#he doesn’t usually have a mouth I just gave him one for comedic effect

[adventure-of-a-lifetime-official]

this thing ^

Tag the OC that is very loud and wrong

[crescentsteel]

Keeping a Secret - Part 6

pairing: Tsukishima x f!manager of Sendai Frogs genre: sexual tension/crack/fluff/slow burn wc: 7.1k

Part 5 || Part 7 || masterlist

[a/n]

I’m sorry for the slow update (As you know, I finished my other mini series last week and I was just a ball of exhaustion, until now tbh)

I think we’re halfway along the story now. I think. Lmao. 

AO3 link is on the masterlist’s page.

Let me know if you want to be part of the taglist uwu

No one budges - not Tsukishima, not the team, not even you. You scram the insides of your brain, trying your absolute hardest to come up with a panic-stricken solution on how to remedy the carelessness brought by your surge of pride from winning.

You can feel your heart pounding on your chest. Or maybe it's Tsukishima’s against yours. You can’t tell at this point and you don’t bother trying to. You push your cognitive skills to its maximum as you strive to think for a fix for your current predicament.

Luckily, you’re not a university scholar for nothing.

You release Tsukishima and open your arms wide to the next person you lay your eyes on.

“Kyou-kun! Good job,” you manifest the joy on your face as you come up to Kyoutani for the similar hug you just gave Tsukishima.

Like Tsukishima, Kyoutani also stills when you embrace his perspiring body. Kyoutani is not a touchy person, but unlike Tsukishima, you know he’s fond of you. So he doesn’t push you away. Rather, he awkwardly pats you at the back.

“T-thanks,” he says with his low, raspy voice. You beam at him and move on to the next player until you’ve hugged all six on the court.

When you come back to the benches, there’s an organized line of the rest of the Sendai Frogs.

You blink quizzically for a few seconds, wondering why, until you realize that they’re waiting for their turn as well.

“Aww, you guys!” you gush dotingly at how adorable they are. Yet, you can’t indulge them.

“Maybe next time? You need to line up already,” you remind them. They all groan downcastedly, but Coach Mira castigates them immediately.

“What the hell are you all sighing for? You won. Stop dawdling around and fall in line over there, not here!”

The guys snap out of it and do as they’re told. Before Coach Mira joins them, she shoots up an eyebrow at you, probably looking for an explanation for your behavior.

“Sorry, Coach.” You chuckle as you apologize for getting the team a bit sidetracked, but provide no reason why you did so. “Won’t do it again,” you supplement the apology.

She lets it go casually and lines up with the team as well.

Once the match is officially done, you head over to the restroom. You enter one of the cubicles quickly and lock its door, you knock your head on it.

‘What is wrong with you, you dumb bitch!’ you lambaste yourself while staring at tiles with petrified eyes as you replay the scene again.

When you made the deal with Tsukishima, you were confident that there wouldn’t be problems with hiding what you two have. He is one of your athletes first and foremost; that hasn’t slipped out of your mind. Yet for one moment there, you blurred the line that you and Tsukishima had established.

You got cozy with him when you’re not in private--when you’re not supposed to. It was just a hug, but still, it was something when you’ve made the whole Sendai gymnasium your audience.

You’re the one who even assured Tsukishima that no one will know about your set-up. Tough luck, you’re also the first one to mess up.

You bang your head on the cubicle door again. The sound of your frustrated groan echoes through the whole bathroom. After a while, you take a deep breath and unlock the cubicle. You go back out to the halls.

When you turn left to head for the bus, you’re startled at the presence of the blonde that was just in your mind. Tsukishima is there, leaning against the wall next to the door you emerged from.

“Fuck! You scared me,” you exclaim.

“Tell me about it,” he replies with a straight face. Despite the nonchalance, you know there’s meaning behind his short retort.

You scan the area, looking for any other member of the team who might be present. When you see none, you drag Tsukishima outside to a secluded area at the side of the gym. Once there, you check around again just to be sure no one will pass by.

Tsukishima just watches you acting in distress, waiting for whatever it is you’re going to say. Obviously it’s important enough to you that you tugged him all the way here. Once you’re done confirming that the coast is clear, panic sets in your face.

You clutch his jacket and start lamenting. “I’m so stupid, Tsukki! Oh God. They’re gonna find us out. We’re screwed!”

He thought that you were just going to explain and apologize for your slip-up earlier. He was stupefied when you did it. He’d probably be giving you an earful right now had you not resolved your mishap before it became an object of inquiry to the others. Admittedly, he was still planning to scold you a bit. However, seeing you this freaked out about it makes him change his mind..

“I’m so sorry!” you go on as you drive yourself deeper to hysteria.

He can’t understand why you’re having this kind of reaction. You solved the problem. You hugged five huge, sweaty men to make up for it. That was a convincing distraction for testosterone-filled players who just won a match.

“Can you calm down? I do-”

“Maybe we should stop it already,” you suggest strongly, cutting him off as perturbation clearly clouds your judgement.

This throws him off. The idea didn’t cross his mind at all. He was just going to reprehend you to be mindful, not call off the agreement you two made.

He doesn’t mind it anymore - kissing you. Sometimes, they’re more enjoyable than he initially anticipated them to be. Most importantly, they’re harmless. They’re just meaningless kisses born out of what little attraction you two have for each other. No one is getting out of line. You don’t go beyond kissing. You both act like the deal doesn’t exist unless it’s just the two of you in your room.

That’s why he is willing to let your mistake go, apart from the fact that you were successful in covering it up.

But instead of contesting your suggestion, he says, “If you say so.”

Even though he’s accepted that kisses from you are allowable, if you want to back out from it, why the hell should he stop you?

“Right??” you persistently convince him even though he basically said yes already.

“Right,” he presses on as well to satisfy your apparent need for him to agree with you.

His answer effectively calms you down as you let go of his jacket and sigh a breath of relief. You swiftly regain composure and face him with your trademark sassiness. “Awesome,” you say with a reassured smile.

“You go ahead first so Coach won’t ask me to chew your ass for taking too long to get on the bus.”

“And you?”

“I’m the manager. I’m always the last to get on the freaking bus.”

He turns around and walks back to the bus. That’s strange. He thought you love taking advantage of every opportunity there is for you to pick on him. He might be wrong.

He can be sure about one thing though: you really are the manager who looks out for everyone, including him.

Maybe that’s why it bothers you so much. Above all else, you are their manager. So when you acted upon something other than such in the court, you lost your cool.

Oh well.

It’s not as if scrapping the deal off is a loss of any kind. He’s gained some sort of fun from it. That’s that. Nothing more. Nothing less.

--

Tsukishima knocks for the second time. He wouldn’t have bothered knocking since it’s your scheduled time to meet today, but he also doesn’t want to barge in without your permission. So he knocks again.

Sure enough, it opens this time. Yet, no one’s there to meet him.

“Tsukishima...”

His eyes drop further down to where your voice came from. You’re on your knees, your head faced down on the floor, and your arm reaching on the doorknob where your hand is latched onto.

What is it this time? What kind of antic will you throw his way? He waits for you to do something unearthly again, readying himself for anything you might surprise him with.

But nothing. You just stay where you are while he stands still.

You groan weakly and ask, “Did you not get my text?”

He slouches down and gets on your level, still not discarding the thought that you have a trick up your sleeve, and you’re waiting to spring it on him.

“What text?” He didn’t check his phone on the way here so he doesn’t know.

You lift your chin to face him while he anticipates your big reveal -- your comedic idea of the day -- but it doesn’t come. What greets him are your squinted eyes, almost beet red cheeks, and pale lips.

“Not today,” you struggle to say which comes out raspy and frail.

He instantly reaches for your forehead to confirm his speculation. His eyes widen with worry when his palm touches your skin. Even without a thermometer, he can confidently conclude that you’re sick. Not just sick, you’re burning with fever.

He looks behind you and sees your laptop open with a mug filled with brown streaks of fried liquid he can only assume to be coffee.

“Jesus Christ,” he hisses. You really won’t fucking stop at nothing even if you’re literally sick already.

He peels your hand off from the doorknob. He scoops your legs and waist with ease and stands up.

“H-Hey,” you protest. You’re gravely debilitated so you do not move at all aside from a hand feebly clutching his shirt for support. He kicks the door close and walks over to your bed.

“Do you have a fucking death wish, y/n?”

Even with his harsh tone, he’s extra careful to duck down from your top bunk because he’s too big for the damn thing. If he’s not mindful, he’ll surely bump his bed on the metal frame.

He delicately lies you down on your bed as he manages to sit beside you without hurting himself.

Your eyes are closed and your whole face screams of discomfort. Your mouth opens as you scuffle the words to come out.

“Go home. You’ll get...sick too. Game soon,” you whisper hoarsely.

As usual, you’re still thinking about the team. Is it always everything else before yourself? Don’t you really know how to take a fucking break? It’s an eyesore. Watching you slowly but surely deteriorate yourself is more taxing than handling your childish nonsense.

He’d love to give you an earful of his thoughts about your pressing behavior, but it’s not what you need to hear at the moment. “Who should I call to be here?” he asks instead.

You force your eyelids to open and look at him. “No one. I can take care of…,” you trail off as your eyes begin to flutter close again.

He can’t decide if it’s funny or foolish that you think you can take care of yourself when you can’t even finish your sentence. “Right,” he says, unable to help himself from sounding sarcastic despite your situation. It’s just so stupid how this easily could be avoided if you didn’t push yourself too hard.

He’s in no way responsible for you. He should just walk out like you said. You did this to yourself. There’s no reason for him to stay there.

Yet, he puts down his bag and takes off his jacket.

“Do you have a medicine kit?”

His question is no longer heard. You’re already passed out. He stands up and starts looking around your room for anything that resembles a first aid kit. If you do have one, you didn’t place it where someone can easily see it.

He sighs as he’s left with no choice but to go out and buy the stuff you need. He can’t possibly go through your things. It feels like an invasion of your privacy.

When he comes back from the pharmacy, he’s expecting that you’d ease up even a bit since you finally stopped working. But when he sits beside you again, he can see the same worrisome distraught wrinkling your pretty face.

Alt hough he doesn’t want to disturb you, he has to. He needs to feed you, get you to take medicine, wipe you with cool compress, chang e your clothes, then tuck you back in bed. After that, he still needs to stay to make sure your stubborn ass won’t get back to working once you feel a tiny bit better.

He feels all his facial muscles droop down at the amount of chores he needs to do for you. He really shouldn’t bother. He can just turn a blind eye and go home, leave you alone since you brought this upon yourself.

But there he is, tending to your needs for no substantive reason other than him being a decent person. Well, he’s already taken the first step, so screw it.

He can still work on his own uni requirements while he watches over you anyways.

Although you resisted a bit at first, your own lack of strength makes you give in to his attempt to cater to your sickly needs. The feeding and the medicine was an easy task. You were practically a lifeless doll and just went with whatever he tells you to do.

Now that he’s in your bathroom with a small basin of cool water and a small towel hanging on his shoulder, he contemplates on how to proceed with the next step: a sponge bath. He should just hand you the towel along with a new set of clothes, leave the room, then come back after a few minutes.

Because he is not doing it.

He won’t be undressing you and wiping your naked body. Just no. You should gather whatever energy you have left because you’ll be doing that all on your own.

He dips the towel in the basin and squeezes the excess water out of it. He puts the moist towel in a container and goes back to your bed.

“Hey, sit up for a bit.”

You groan softly, but does as you’re told. He puts the small plastic case with the towel on your bed and helps you get up. “I’ll get you a new set of clothes, then wipe yourself down,” he instructs you.

You let out one short hum of approval, so he goes to your drawers. He pulls the first shirt and bottoms he sees. As long as you have your blanket, it should be fine if you’re not wearing thick clothing.

When he turns around, he finds you holding the wet towel to your shoulder, completely still as you rest against the wall by your bed. You fell asleep with the towel soaking up your shirt.

“Crap,” he curses as he rushes back to you.

He places your fresh clothes to the side and hurriedly removes the towel off of you. He’s about to shake you back to consciousness but aborts his plan as soon as he touches your other shoulder.

You look like you really want to do it yourself as well. Even now, he can see minute movements from your fingers as if you’re still trying to follow his directions earlier.

Goddamn it. It’s really up to him now, isn’t it?

He glances at you one last time, thinking of another way out. If you hadn’t gotten your shirt wet, he would have ditched the sponge bath idea already. Now he’s left with no choice but to proceed with it.

Whatever. It’s just a human body for Christ’s sake. He shouldn’t be as alarmed as he currently is. He’s seen a female human body before. Yours should be no different.

He takes a deep breath and gently tugs up the shirt you’re wearing.

‘They’re just mammary glands,’ he repeats in his head but makes sure his eyes never land anywhere near the blob lump of fat on your chest.

He gets to work, brushing the cool towel starting on the sides of your face, then down to your neck. You must only be half-asleep because you lift your chin up a bit to allow him access to the column of your neck. He keeps his eyes on it as his hand travels down a bit further.

He spreads the coolness of the towel on your chest, but as soon as he feels a particular softness, drags his hands back up. With his hand still on your chest, he feels the pace of your breathing quicken a bit. When shoots his eyes up to your face, you’re already looking at him with dazed eyes and slightly agape mouth.

Beautiful. Too fucking beautiful for his liking.

It’s ridiculous. People are supposed to look like shit when they’re sick, not inviting.

A certain delicate temptation kicks in, urging him to back away a bit to reward himself with a quick sweep of your semi naked figure.

‘No,’ he grounds himself.

He’s not that barbaric. He’s not doing this so he has an excuse to ogle at you.

So why is he doing this?

With the turbulent thoughts reigning in his mind, he unknowingly squeezes the moist towel he’s holding against your skin.

The cool water drenching from his palm distracts him from his pondering. Reflex makes him look at his hand and involuntarily follows the slow trickle of water down the supple mount of flesh he’s been meaning to avoid looking at this whole time.

He realizes he’s been staring, but he’s too enthralled to stop. He lets his eyes wander further down, still watching how the droplet glides to your stomach. It gets absorbed by the fabric as it reaches down the waistband of your shorts.

The absence of the water he’s been trailing with his eyes snaps him out of his trance.

What the fuck is he doing?

He quickly moves on to your arms, patting your skin aggressively and haphazardly so he can finally get this cumbersome chore over with.

When you recover from this, he’s going to barrage you with a litany of fulmination on your self-destructive habits.

He’s supposed to wipe your thighs and legs too, but the idea is already tossed away as his train of thought is antagonizingly twisted today.

As fast as he can, he puts on the shirt he got for you. He was being gentle previously, but his priority at present is to cover up your exposed body away from his sight.

When he successfully clothes you, he gently lays you down again. He pulls the blanket to your shoulders and looks at your overall state.

You look a bit better now so he goes to your study table. He tidies up your stuff and puts them aside for him to set down his own.

Finally, he can get his shit done while he waits for your fever to go down.

He’s halfway through his elective course when he hears you whimper. He ignores it the first two times, but he hears it again louder the third time, he concludes something is wrong.

When he gets to your bed, you’re shivering frantically even with your blanket covering your whole body. He quickly searches for another one and piles it over the one you already have.

It only lessens your trembling but it’s still there. Your pretty face is still ruffled with unease. He touches your arm and finds out that you’re shaking way worse than you look.

In just seconds, he slips inside the blankets and draws you in to provide you the body heat you might need. You desperately cling onto him, pressing your body to share what he silently offered. Your fingers that are clutching the back of his shirt are quivering. You sink your face on his chest with agitation, badly in need for an additional source of warmth.

His displeasure towards your self-negligence dwindles when he feels your trembling body against his. Yes, this might be your fault, but he’s certain you hate this more than he does. Not only are you in pain, but you probably see this as a waste of your valuable time. You brought this upon yourself, but you don’t deserve it.

He encases his arm on your waist and tugs you even closer. He lowers his body a bit and gently nestles your face on his neck so you can feel the direct warmth of his skin on your cheeks.

Within a few minutes, you begin to relax within his embrace. The tremors become less and less until your fingers on his shirt loosen up.

You faintly pull back to look at him. “Sorry, Tsukki,” you mumble groggily with forlorn eyes.

“Shut up,” he utters without any trace of hostility as he cups the back of your head and buries your face on his neck again.

Your grip on him slackens but you don’t let go. You ease into him with your breathing getting even and your heart beating softly against his chest. When your chills completely fade away, he’s left with nothing but the softness of your body within the confines of his touch.

He becomes more aware of your bodies tangled against each other now that you’re completely still. The plumpness of your breasts are pinned on him. Your ample lips are grazing his neck. His pinky and ring fingers are hovering just below your spine, almost touching the curve of your behind.

To make things worse, you begin letting out small moans of succor which he can hear only because you’re too close.

He should be immune to this. He’s already had his fair share of kisses with you and sometimes, it involves a lot of touching. However, it is never as intimate as this. The furthest you two have gone was when he slipped a hand underneath your shirt before your friend barged in.

Before today, he had never seen your bare body. He had never held you to the point that almost your every curve melds with his. He has never thought about what it’d be like to do more than just making out. Only now when you’re not even doing so.

He considers himself a level-headed person driven by logic and rationality, but for crying out loud, your thigh is nudging on his crotch as if challenging his self-control.

As much as he wants to keep himself in check, his own body betrays him when his dick starts to nudge back at your right thigh.

‘Breathe in, breathe out,’ he reminds himself repeatedly to calm himself down.

“Hmmm,” you snuggle even more on his neck, your moist lips tracing his skin before you press it on him as you relax even further.

Fuck.

The shameful tent in his pants is becoming painful on his jeans as his imagination runs wild. How will you sound if it's the other way around, if it's his lips that’s traveling on your neck? How will you react if it’s his palms kneading the supple flesh pressed against his chest right now? Would you blush a deeper shade of red than the one you’re wearing if he slams his…

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He can’t decide who is more sick: you or him, who’s lusting over you despite your situation. His plan to chastise you for your own inattentiveness for your own health is back in action. He’ll make sure it's ingrained into that irresponsible, beautiful head of yours.

To distract himself from his inane fantasies, he forces himself to recall the scientific names of all the reptile species he’s aware of.  And when he’s exhausted his mental list, he moves on to whatever animal species he can think of until he dozes off with you.

--

You haven’t opened your eyes yet, but as you regain consciousness, you can tell that you had an amazing nap. For the first time, you reap the benefits of a power nap. It feels like you slept for a complete eight hours or even more. You no longer feel sick. You celebrate the after effects of the nap, stretching your legs before you get up.

You look out your window and see that the light is still a dark shade of blue so you still have the whole evening to finish what you need to do.

When you turn your glance to your table, Tsukishima’s seated on the floor with his laptop in front of him.

Why is Tsukishima here? You texted him and called off your meeting today.

Something’s off.

You don’t really remember going to bed. You just remember doing one of your subjects when you heard someone knock.

“Tsukishima,” you call his attention urgently.

He turns to you, but you can’t see his eyes from the light reflecting on his glasses from his screen. “What time is it?”

He looks back to his laptop. “It’s 5 am.”

What?!

You didn’t take a nap. You fucking slept. A more horrid realization comes to you when you remember what happened before you did. You passed out and Tsukishima fixed you up.

Shit! He’s been telling you all the time to stop overworking yourself and he had to be there and clean up the mess you did to yourself.

You panic when he sits beside you. You sit properly, hands on your lap, pressed lips, eyes on the floor as you prepare yourself for a long, tedious arduous lecture from the blonde.

“Hey.”

You slowly turn towards him, anticipating the slew of curses about to unroll from him.

“Y-yes?”

You keep your eyes leveled on his chest, embarrassed of yourself for burdening him with your unwell ass.

Instead of speaking, he inserts a thermometer in your mouth, causing you to shoot your gaze up to him. Neither of you say anything and just hold each other’s stare until the thermometer beeps.

He takes it out of your mouth and checks your temperature.

“You’re okay now,” he announces, then starts getting ready to leave. “Don’t bother coming to training later or else I’ll tell Coach that I caught you extremely sick,” he threatens nonchalantly.

Your mind is running laps on how to process everything all at once, but you decide to deal with the most pressing one.

“Uhhhh..”

He glances at you, silently waiting for what you’re going to say, but you only gape at him as well.

What were you going to say again? Shit, you actually can’t remember what it is.

He disregards your quietness and proceeds to your door. “You should just stay in. One day of missing classes won’t cost you your scholarship,” he says before he closes the door behind him.

“Wait.”

He’s gone. It’s only then you remember you wanted to say thanks.

--

When you come back to the gym two days after, everyone expresses their worry about you. You assure them that you’re completely fine now. Even with the love and concern you are showered with, your eyes scan for someone who isn’t among the players in front of you.

There he is, dribbling the ball and is about to do a jump serve. Just before he tosses the ball in the air, he looks at your direction.

“Y/n?” Kogane’s voice pulls you back to them.

“What was that?” you ask because you didn’t hear whatever they were saying.

“He was asking if you’re really okay now,” Eiji says.

You nod enthusiastically. “So stop wasting your training time on me and practice instead,” you say with cheerful authority that they’re very pleased to hear again.

Once the crowd disperses, you spring your way to the middle blocker who didn’t welcome you back.

“Hello!” you greet him sprightly.

“What?” he asks with a bored tone.

You step closer to him for the next thing you’re going to say is for his ears only. “I really appreciate what you did the other day.”

Tsukishima sees the earnest, grateful expression on your face, but what grips his attention is how refreshed you look. You look brighter than you usually do.

He was almost sure that you were going to ignore what he said about going absent on both in classes and in here, but you seem to have taken his advice with how well-rested you are.

But most of all, he didn’t expect you’d bring it up during your working hours. Neither of you talks about what happens in private when you’re the ‘Sendai Frogs’ manager,’ not his classmate, or occasional kiss-buddy .

“I don’t,” he responds vacuously to your thankful sentiment. It was a very tough night for him. When he woke up, his erection was still raging through his pants. As undignified as it was, he got himself off in your comfort room just to ease the unbearable sexual tension that was still there in the morning.

As usual, you don’t take offense from his sour remark. You chuckle whole-heartedly and pat him hard on his shoulders. “Of course you don’t,” you say mirthfully before you walk over to Coach Mira.

It was a very tough night you made him endure, but he’s relieved to see you back on your feet.

--

The team is going to the fourth match of the regular rounds. Three more after this and you get the chance to have a game from the bottom two teams from Division 1.

As you and the team march towards the court, you hear someone call Tsukishima.

“Tsukki!”

You look at whoever it is and stop when you see Kotarou Bokuto, the wing spiker of MSBY Jackals, crazy energy on court, super clean line shot.

He’s waving energetically at Tsukishima while the latter just nods at him. You grab Tsukki by his shirt and stop him from advancing any further.

“You guys go ahead. We’ll be there in a sec,” you tell Kogane who’s the person in front of you. He nods at you then walks off with the rest of the team.

“Why did we stop?” Tsukishima asks with a frown.

“How do you know Bokuto?” you ask.

“I used to train with him during high school,” he says like it’s nothing because to him it really is not a big deal. Bokuto and Kuroo practically coerced him to join their free practices when he already wanted to call it a day. Training with them was a drag - a drag that pushed him to become a better blocker.

Among the four of them who regularly practiced in the third gym, it was him and Bokuto who went professional. Even if the wing spiker is in a higher division, he still sees Bokuto as the same person who told him it only takes one hit to be hooked on the sport. Bokuto just got better at it.

Other than that, he still seems like the silly guy Tsukishima knows him to be.

“Can you introduce me?” you say as you try to hide the zeal in your eyes, but horribly failing to do so.

“Shouldn’t I go warm up?” he counters instead of responding to your question.

“I promise to be very nice to you in the three succeeding training days. Introduce me, please, ” you beseech graciously at him, insistent on meeting the athlete.

“Make it five days,” he tests to see your conviction.

But you easily agree, “Deal!”

Seeing that you won’t let this go easily, he thinks it would be better to just give you what you want.

You both walk over to where Bokuto is. Beside him is another part of the third gym, Kuroo, who’s now the official promoter of the Volleyball Association.

“Hey hey hey, Tsukki!”

“Hey,” the lack of enthusiasm in his response totally contrasts Bokuto’s. “This is-“

“Hi!! I’m Y/n, Tsukishima’s manager,” you cut him off which makes him jolt. Why even bother asking him to introduce when you’re more than capable of doing it yourself?

You grab Bokuto’s hand and shake it vigorously. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you,” you dramatically state, your eyes twinkling with idolatry.

Bokuto, as expected, is exceedingly glad from the adoration. He uses his two hands to shake yours and reciprocate the same energy you gave him.

“I’m such a huge fan. Personally, you’re my favorite player from Division 1. I don’t care what others say. That chest bump. Flawless save!” you drag on, endlessly showering the spiker with compliments which Bokuto is totally eating up.

He’s egging you up even more by constantly nodding, laughing, and agreeing in everything you’re saying.

Meanwhile, Kuroo and Tsukishima are just standing there watching the whole exchange.

“I’m sorry if this is a stretch, but can I hug you?” you ask almost like a tame puppy.

He’s been disregarding the entire conversation, but really? A hug? Have you no shame? Not that he cares but should you be ogling at another athlete when you’re wearing the uniform of Sendai Frogs?

Great. Go worship a big brawny dude from Division 1 minutes before your own team’s game. How thoughtless.

He imagined it would be a civil hug but then you open your arms to Bokuto and envelop him in the warmest hug he’s ever seen you give. His eyes drop to Bokuto’s limbs which are ensnared around your waist as the spiker hauls you closer to his body.

How imprudent. It was a mistake bringing you to Bokuto. You should have known it’s unwise to mix up your personal agenda with your work. You should have known that it was better if you just ignored Bokuto and made him warm up, than make him introduce you to your favorite player.

What is wrong with you?

Kuroo’s attention slips from you to Tsukishima’s change of demeanor. Tsukishima is usually unbothered, but as soon as you embraced Bokuto, Tsukishima’s mood became sour. It is an amusing sight to watch.

He never thought Tsukishima would associate himself with an individual as lively as you. But who could blame him?

He, himself, has just been watching since you fanned the ego of his old buddy. You have not graced him even a glance since you approached them. Your eyes were all set on Bokuto. You’re probably not aware that another presence is also there.

So he’ll make you be aware.

“Ehem,” he clears his throat to grab your attention, which works as you shift your gaze from Bokuto to him. “Hello,” he flashes you the best smile he has, but has no effect whatsoever at you.

The difference in treatment is drastic. While you revere Bokuto with adoration, you regard him like a nuisance. It’s not that palpable, but it’s there. You look at him like he’s an obligation to deal with.

Your smile is rehearsed and so is the cheerful “Hi” that you give him.

“Kuroo Tetsurou,” he introduces as he offers his hand. You take without hesitation, firmly gripping his extended hand for a brisk, professional handshake.

“Y/n, manager of the Sendai Frogs,” you respond in an amicable, yet refined manner. He gets his business card from his pocket and hands it to you.

“So, Miss Manager, how are the Frogs doing?” he asks to strike up a conversation.

You scrutinize his business card for a quick while then pockets it. “I believe as their manager, I, myself, represent the team more than my words can. So what do you say, Mr. Promoter?” The professionalism chips off and reveals a real slice of you - sly and mischievous, as you compose your stature and put a hand on your hip, accentuating your curves.

He crosses his arms as he eyes you from head to toe without any reservation, then back up again.

“I say the Sendai Frogs are looking hot this season,” he says with his own grin that’s just as devious as yours.

“There’s your answer then,” you give him a wink that almost makes his heart flutter.

‘Geez, lady. Take it easy on unsuspecting men,’ he thinks to himself but easily recovers as his grin spreads out.

“Oy, we should be getting back,” Tsukishima says, breaking Kuroo’s trance towards you. You snap out of it as well, agreeing with Tsukishima as you give the blonde a nod.

“It’s so nice to really meet you, Bokuto,” you tell Bokuto before turning around. Even though you’re treating Kuroo as if he doesn’t exist, he can’t help but be intrigued even more by you.

“Bye, y/n,” he says a bit loudly for you to hear since you’re already a few steps away from them.

You’re about to look back but Tsukishima puts a hand on your shoulders and starts talking to you. Kuroo would have disregarded it, but he doesn’t miss the quick glare Tsukishima throws at Kuroo and Bokuto. What’s even more eye-catching is how Tsukishima’s hand travels down a bit on your back.

You don’t take notice of it though. It might because you’re preoccupied or because you genuinely don’t mind. But for Tsukishima to do so, it’s a different story altogether.

“Hey Bokuto, did you see that?” he turns to his friend.

“Uh huh. She’s so pretty!” Bokuto squawks out, obviously not catching what Kuroo did. Kuroo just lets it go since it wouldn’t really do much even if he tries to explain. He looks back at you and agrees with Bokuto instead.

“Yeah, very pretty.”

--

Even though you’re the one who broke off the deal, you still feel the urge to kiss Tsukishima at times. He does too. You notice the way he glances at you briefly then returns to his work as soon you catch him.

It’s not awkward. There’s none of the tension-filled air, probably because you’re both aware that the impulse is there. You just silently agreed to dismiss it.

It’s all good though. It’s for the best. You don’t want another slip-up like the one from the Jaguars’ match. What’s weird is that even though you’re no longer making out, it feels like nothing has changed.

You still sit beside him. He still lets you lean on him. He still lets out nasty side comments but he’s not as rancorous as they used to be.

“You’re spacing out again,” he points out.

“That’s cause I’m done, Tsukishima,” you counter immediately while still gazing at your window across you. “Anyways, I’m gonna nap,” you announce.

He stops typing and looks at you. That’s weird. He’s always the one strenuously suggesting that you take a break when you’re feeling tired. What gives?

“Are you sick?” A bubble of unwarranted concern rises within him from your sudden inclination to take a nap.

“Oh, no. But I’m going to a party later so I need to recharge a bit.” You head to your bed and start straightening out the crumpled bedsheets.

Party? Are you out of your fucking mind? You could rest instead, make the most out of the night by catching up on sleep. But you’d rather attend a pointless party? Here he thought you were being thoughtful of your own health.

Not to mention, there might be perverts getting their hands all over you again. Obviously you can protect yourself, but wouldn’t you prefer not having one ogling and harassing you?

“Mind enlightening me how a vomit-smelling gathering is of any benefit to you?”

“Mind enlightening why it’s any of your business?” you retort instantly.

“It’s not,” he responds just as swiftly. “I’m just curious because I honestly don’t get it,” he says calmly. If you want to go to the damned party, then by all means. He really doesn’t care what you do with your free time.

“If you’re so worried, Tsukishima, you’re very welcome to come,” you tell him, mockery dripping from your invitation.

“I’d rather not,” he says dryly.

You shrug as you slip under your blanket. “Lock the door when you leave.”

“Unbelievable,” he mutters.

--

‘Truly unbelievable,’ he tells himself again as the smell of cigarette and alcohol tickles his nostrils while he sits at the bar, mulling over whatever the hell possessed him to come there.

It definitely isn’t because of you.

He’s not looking for you either nor is he worried about you.

It’s worse than he remembers. There are more people than last time and the music is banging on his eardrums.

“Are you getting anything?” the bartender asks him.

Although he absolutely detests alcohol, he feels like punishing himself tonight for lack of better judgment in coming there.

“Your worst drink.”

--

Even though you slept that afternoon, you still don’t plan on staying out too long for the party. You just wanted to catch up with some uni friends and instead of meeting them all one by one, it would be efficient if you attend this party and meet them all at once.

Although you would prefer if you just slept or watched a documentary, you think it’s necessary for you to be here. You almost don’t have any time to spend with friends. This might be your last chance to do so since it’s almost graduation.

As usual, you avoid drinking since you hate dealing with hangovers. You learned that the hard way when you had to keep up with who’s scoring points in an official match while an invisible hammer pounds your head.

So, despite the endless free shots given to you, you persistently decline. You also did not pay much attention to the dance floor to save your energy.

After a while of talking to everyone you know, you look around to check if you missed anyone. That’s when you catch a glimpse of a familiar blonde slouching by the bar.

‘ No. It’s not possible ,’ you say to yourself but you’re already smiling hard as you saunter to where he is. It’s very unlikely that it’s him but on the rare chance that he is, you’re not going to let it slip by.  

He’s facing down his glass which is joined by two empty shot glasses. You lean back with both your elbows on the counter.

“You new here?” you playfully ask. If it’s not who you think it is, you’ll just dance awkwardly to throw him off.

“I actually am,” he says as he encircles the rim of his glass with his index finger. Then he raises his face to turn to you.

When he reveals his face, you confirm that it is indeed Tsukishima, but at the same time, he looks nothing like his usual self.

The tips of his ears up to his neck are burning red while his eyes are dazed like you’ve never seen them before. But that’s not the weirdest thing.

He’s smiling. He’s fucking smiling like a happy idiot.

“Tsukishima?” you ask him for confirmation in any case that it’s just someone who looks extremely like him.

“Hmmm?” he asks with a little bit of a slur that throws you off.

As if you’re not astounded enough by the scene unfolding before you, he grabs you by the waist and lugs you until you’re situated between his thighs.

“Who did you think it was, manager?”

Part 5 || Part 7 || masterlist

taglist (those crossed out can’t be tagged)

@ameliaxo @suikrem @akaashisslave @tsumurai  @loving-unicorns106 @flairlust @geektastic84 @anaiss97 @berna-dette @just4readingfics @suteorra @xxekitten69xx @simp4tsukkii @music-is-all-i-need @keshinslittlegirl @raspberrysunshinebby @iminlovewhaikyuu @pdiddy11 @lightyagamami @sailorscout1902 @lovershaikyuu  @expectonothinfromme @finnydraws @namelessidentity @hqbeesun @yatoatyourservice @mrkozume @suzuyamitsuki @celestialarchiveshq @yongboxerrr @gomenpudding @kutiekoge @fizzfrick @flamingosis @korean-bbq @ihaterainbowsprinkles @red-lint @backtonormalthings @borpcorp @lonelyheartxn​

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

Communication Issues (AT:TTSIMBCMEOAYSFIL)- Chapter Three

Ao3,   MasterPost,   Chap.1,   Chap.2

Relationships: Eventual Romantic Analogince, Romantic Prinxiety, implied background Moceit

Warnings: Misunderstandings, Miscommunication, Self-isolation, Arguments, Unintentional Emotional Repression, Body Horror (in the form of Remus being Remus!), swearing, some small descriptions of pain, self-deprecations. There’s some fluff in the middle cuz I’m not pure evil, but this is pretty angsty :3 (I promise it’ll have a happy ending u just gotta wait ok). Remus uses it/its here, and is also aromantic.

Word Count: 8,167

Now, dramatism isn’t one of your functions, so you like to think that you’re being entirely  reasonable when you say that you’d rather die than inform your closest friends that you’ve grown to love them a bit more than platonically. 

And yet, here they are. Sitting on your couch, in your cluttered room, staring up at you with expectation in their eyes. They’re waiting, Logan. You didn’t actually expect to avoid this forever, did you?

Maybe you did, but it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve been wrong.

But you digress: you owe them the explanation they came here for. And as you open your mouth to speak, your voice is not nearly as measured as you’d like it to be. 

“As I said before, It was never my intention for you to think I did not want to see you- that is to say, it simply wasn’t feasible, given- well- there were certain complications, you see…”

Virgil narrows his eyes, bemusedly, from his contorted position across the arm and top cushion of your couch. 

“What kind of complications?”

You look at the carpet, but it doesn’t offer much visual stimuli. You look up at the ceiling, but the angle makes your neck ache. You settle your eyes on your bookshelf instead, studying the multi-colored covers of novels that span the length of the entire opposite wall. 

“...Complicated ones.”

Virgil snorts, a sound that usually has you thinking about just how adorable he can be, but the sound is devoid of humor in its current form. 

“Care to elaborate, Teach?” Roman inquires, his legs folded comfortably under himself as he watches you. He’s managed to keep himself pretty still and quiet, though you aren’t sure if that’s attributed to his current restraint or the effects of your room.

  You push your glasses up on your nose. They fall back to their original position. You repeat this action almost compulsively. 

“It’s foolish- Very foolish. I know this is somewhat hypocritical of me, but I believe it is for the best that I do not burden you with it.”

“You aren’t a burden!” Roman squawks indignantly, in conjunction with Virgil snipping: “We’re well past that, buddy.”

You feel your face heat, embarrassingly enough. You aren’t sure why, but their instant and vehement defensiveness for you is a bit motivating. They… they won’t hate you for it. They might even understand, if you’re willing to be optimistic about this. 

“You could call it. Jealousy, I suppose.”

“Jealousy?” Roman scrunches his nose, uncomprehending.

“Yes- I know it isn’t exactly fair of me to feel this way, but it’s the unfortunate truth. I have noticed that the two of you have become much… closer, than you once were,” you see the two of them flush in embarrassment, which only serves to prove your point. “Rest assured, I’m very happy for the both of you and your bond. It’s just that I’ve realized that I have become essentially irrelevant, which I find to be… upsetting. And I know you both are far too kind and non-communicative to outright tell me this, thus I decided that I would take matters into my own hands by giving the two of you your much-needed space willingly.” 

You do not add that you’re also avoiding them because you can barely stomach being around their PDA. It seems unnecessary, and maybe a tad pathetic.

Virgil recovers from his embarrassment at your calling him out quickly enough, his abashment being engulfed by indignation. Oh, wonderful. They really can’t let up without a fight.

“What the hell are you talking about?” His anger is clear, but all three of you know that he’s only upset at the situation. 

“I would love to remain as your friends, of course, I only meant that it would be best if I didn’t interrupt you two-”

“Interrupt us?!” He’s very near shouting, leaping up from his seat and stalking towards you. He stops less than a foot away, and you try desperately not to recoil from him. 

“Yes,” you sound meek, don’t you? “It only made sense-”

He stares at you as though you’re an idiot. It’s a despicable look, but when you turn your attention to Roman for a reprieve, his expression is no different.

And then they- oh, what they do next brings you more pain than any expression ever could. It starts quiet, like they’re trying to hold it at bay, but their resolves crack and crumble. 

They laugh. They’re laughing at you. 

You shouldn’t have let them in- not into your room, not into your head, not into your life at all. You should have known that when your genuine emotions came to light, they’d only find it humorous in the end. Because you, Logan- Logic, your ‘feelings’- they’re hilarious. They are nonsensical and hardly befitting a being such as yourself, yet you have them! And you actually began to speak about them! What a comedic situation. You’re a fool in every sense of the word- both a jester and an idiot. 

They aren’t even laughing that hard, but to you each small sound reads as a raucous, villainous cackle that tears apart your skin and leaves you raw. Roman’s head is tipped back and he appears to be shaking with amusement; Virgil is trying to press his lips together and stifle his chuckling, but he’s doing a poor job of it.

Something writhes in you, much uglier than your shame or guilt. It squirms beneath the layers of your skin and runs up and down your spine, tensing your muscles with its electricity. It’s fury, burning nearly as bright as your face surely must be with this humiliation. 

How could they, tricking you into caring for them, convincing you to help them and support them, only to then heckle you when you hand them your trust. It was such a fragile thing already- which you know is preposterous, trust isn’t tangible, but in this moment it feels quite like a cracked window finally shattering to useless shards.

“Out.”

Virgil is startled into silence immediately; Roman makes a strangled sort of sound as he stops laughing.

“What?” They chorus, both looking ready to contradict you with drawn out and over-emotional arguments. 

You won’t give them that satisfaction.

“Get. Out. Of my. Room,” your shaking speech is blanketed in monotone; it’s like a towel thrown over a forest fire; it won’t last long.

Their eyes widen comically. They speak all over each other, clamoring to explain or excuse their actions, but to you the pleading is naught but white noise. 

You gave them a chance to leave of their own volition, but if they’re so keen on remaining a nuisance, then fine. You huff a sigh, turning your back to Roman and Virgil. With a snap, their chatter cuts off unceremoniously, and you are left cold and lonely. 

When you turn around, they’re gone.

<<<???>>><<<???>>><<<???>>>

You don’t get a chance to react before you’re thrown upwards through the floor of your bedroom. You land in an unceremonious heap, half-on and half-off of your bed, losing your balance almost immediately and toppling to the floor. Rising up makes you dizzy enough as it is, but being forced away from somewhere makes you want to vomit. 

You pull yourself up from the ground, holding your head in your hands until the world stops spinning. As soon as your brain gets working again, you can hear thunderous footfalls out in the hall. They stomp right past your door and down the hall. There’s a series of loud thumps, rattles, and shouts, before whoever it is retraces their steps.

You walk to your door as if on autopilot, opening it just as Roman was about to knock. He’s panting, distressed. 

“We fucked up,” he says.

“Yeah,” you pull him inside, slamming the door behind him, “We did.”

“I didn’t mean to, you know that right? I wasn’t laughing at him, I wouldn’t, alright?” Roman spirals, “He thinks I did! It was just ridiculous, was all! To think that we don’t want him around- to think-”

He curls into himself. You catch his hand before he can press it against his chest, unfolding him. You hold his wrist and rub little patterns into the back of his hand.

“Ro, hey.”

He glances up at you, wild-eyed. Eyeshadow is already creeping its way down his face.

“Why don’t we talk about this in your room instead, hm?” 

He nods, shaking, with a small mutter of ‘right, right’. You nod back, holding onto him just tight enough that your claws don’t quite dig in. 

You materialize in Roman’s room, dragging him along with you. Almost immediately a fierce pulse of energy overwhelms you. You stagger in shock, but Roman doesn’t even blink at the force. He pulls away from you and falls upon his massive, plush, circular canopy bed with a despairing whine. You can’t really blame him. 

The Creative power of this room takes its effects on you faster than any other side’s abilities could- you really wonder how Roman is so used to it. You sit on the bed beside him, intending to comfort him as he buries himself further into his hoard of pillows. But then, you can’t. You can’t sit down. Far too much troubled excitement is pooling in your stomach; far too many ideas and thoughts are running through your head, and the loudest of them are desperate appeals to start fixing this mess.

Anxiety and Creativity wouldn’t theoretically mix well, but that’s just the thing about theories. They’re often wrong, so very wrong or crackpot or conspiratorial. The truth of it is Creativity and Anxiety work together wonderfully, both as concepts and as actual, metaphysical creatures. You’ve known this, even if you won’t admit it, since you were all teenagers. But only now does it hit you just how much Roman’s abilities can do for you. It takes all of your energy, all that pent-up fear and frustration from what’s just happened, and it gives you the tools to actually use it for something.

It also makes you, ya know. Just a little recklessly confident.

“Alright, Princey, get up.”

He whines again, shifting his head just enough to glare at you.

“I’m wallowing in self-pity! For the reason that one of my dearest friends thinks me a- a bully! How are you not freaking out about this?”

“Honestly?” You wrap your hands around his wrist again, pulling him into a ragdoll-ish sitting position, “I’ve got no idea. Mentally I think I’m in the fifth dimension or some shit, so we gotta work this out quick before I come back down and really lose my mind.”

He grumbles, but you see him biting back an amused smile. Flopping his legs over the edge of the bed and making no movement to stand, Roman narrows his eyes up at you. 

“Alright, alright. We need to give that conversation another go, I know that, but we should give Logan some space first. He’s unlikely to hear us out now. You know how headstrong he is when he gets… like this.”

You nod, vacantly, because you're already three steps ahead of where he is in the conversation. 

“Yeah, good point. More time.”

“Right,” Roman draws the word out, looking at you strangely, “So why aren’t you moping with me?”

You pull the reins of your practically palpable energy enough to sit down, right next to him.

“We obviously have to work out this-” you gesture between yourself and Roman, “-before we can really talk to Logan,” once the sentence is out of your mouth you wish you could swallow back the ‘obviously’, because Roman is usually slow on the uptake and you’d never intentionally make fun of that. But he does nothing more than scrunch his face up in exaggerated confusion, the pink tint to his face giving away that he must have at least some idea what you’re implying. 

“What- what do you mean by that? The two of us already get along famously!”

“I think you know that’s not what I meant. You’re using your stage voice. You always do that when you lie.”

“Who are you- Janus?” He cough-laughs awkwardly, breaking eye-contact with you. You’re surprised that you’re holding up any better than him, but your strongest reaction at the moment is a mild blush and some prickling at your skin. 

It is for these reasons that you both love and hate Creative-Mode Virgil. He is a very productive and efficient version of you, but his propensity for acting bold and impulsive makes you want to strangle him. Him being you, of course.

“Look, Logan was wrong to think that he was a third wheel, or whatever, but I’m pretty sure he was right about the… closeness with us, I guess.”

Roman’s staring at you with wide eyes, a deep red flushing him from his ears right across his nose and cheeks. He’s clearly trying to smile, but it’s coming out awkwardly strained, almost twisted sideways. There’s a second when the anxiety rushes back to you in a wave of oh no you misread this so fucking bad of course he doesn’t feel that way about you you’re his best friend whatthehellwereyouthinkingVirgil- and it almost wins you over, but you’re in Roman’s Room. And that doesn’t just mean motivation and creativity. 

Your paranoid thoughts could never beat what’s ingrained into you as a fact. You can feel the romantic tension, almost like it’s a physical presence in the room. Maybe it is. A part of you- most of you, in fact- still wants to convince you that you’re doing something wrong. But it’s getting harder and harder to believe the longer you sit here, knowing that these emotions you feel aren't entirely your own. 

“Virgil,” he breathes, and you can feel it on your skin- when did you get so close?

“We don’t have to do anything about this,” you start to backpedal, but you don’t move away from him, “Not if you don’t want to, yet. I just… we had to talk about it, I think.”

“So you…?”

The hesitance in his voice destroys your resolve. You reach out, tucking up both of his hands in your own. 

They’re warm. 

“Yeah, I- yeah.”

He surveys you for far too long; it’s hard not to squirm. You let him watch you, though, just so he can find whatever it is he’s looking for in your expression. When he does, it only draws him in nearer.

“You and Logan are right. I love you, V.” 

You try not to smile. It doesn’t work. 

“I figured.”

He huffs at you, shoving you, but he’s grinning widely. You roll your eyes at him. You don’t speak for a while, holding your tongue for as long as you can- but you really need to say it. Just so he knows.

“I love you back, though. Or- something like that, I don’t know…”

Roman laughs outright at that, tossing his head back. You can already feel the energy you were given twisting into an entirely contradictory exhaustion. Because of that, you don’t even try to pretend to be annoyed; you just watch, fondly. 

When he’s settled, that amused look turns sharply to worry. 

“So now what?”

You pause, running your thumb over his knuckles as you think the question over. 

“Logan?” 

“Yeah, that.”

“Well, like you said, we give him some space.”

“And then?”

You glance up at Roman for confirmation, but you don’t need to. Like you said, you can feel it; his room is a pretty big snitch. 

“We tell him we love him.” 

 You let yourself forget about what happened, just for the afternoon. It’s hard, but what choice do you have? It’s out of your hands for now. And, while usually that makes you even more nervous, you manage to force yourself into the shape of something vaguely undaunted. After all, if you can’t tell Logan just how much you care about him, you can still remind Roman. 

In your own way, of course. 

“Hey,” you mutter, for what must be the millionth time that evening. Roman turns his attention away from the vent-art he’s working on, glancing at you.

“Yes, Knightmare?” He asks, but the tired and affectionate smile on his face says that he already knows your game. Damn, and here you were thinking you were subtle. (not.)

“Mmh,” you press your face into the side of his neck, leaving a few miniscule kisses to the skin there. Your arms are twined around his waist, a position that bordered on- oh, who are you kidding, it’s exceptionally clingy.

The embarrassment that you feel from so openly displaying such sappy, disgusting affection is overturned, however slightly, by the quiet laugh and kiss to the top of your head that Roman returns to you for your efforts. You hide your smile in the crook of his neck.

You continue to shower Roman with attention for a minute or so, covering his face with little pecks and pressing yourself against him, before leaning back a few inches. You sigh. He resumes his work, resting his back against your chest as he does so. 

You will let him continue to draw for ten or so minutes. You will ask for his attention again, and he’ll give it to you with a slightly wider smile than the last time you did it- that smile grows exponentially, but only by tiny increments.

You’ll kiss him all up his neck and the side of his face, hug him even tighter, listening to him laugh in a much too relieved voice before you let up once more.

And he’ll be a little more sure of you each time. A little more sure that you two can do this together. 

<<<???>>><<<???>>><<<???>>>

You are not a patient entity when it comes to the things you want. You are, in the best of cases, the exact opposite. This gets about One Million Billion times worse when the one thing that you want is to declare your love for someone, and said someone hasn’t left his room even once in six days.

Virgil, Patton, and Janus (once you’d relayed the situation to the latter two) have essentially been keeping you on a leash at all times of the day- or night- to make absolutely sure that you don’t break Logan’s door down. Which- to be fair- you wouldn’t put it past yourself to do that, but still. 

But even with the distraction of a new boyfriend (boyfriend!!!!) and those two overbearingly caring friends of yours, you are still Physically Unable to Not Do Anything currently. And, you suppose if you can’t break Logan’s door down, you might as well try that idea out on someone who wouldn’t bat an eye at such an, ah, intrusion seems to be the fitting word. 

“Uurghhhhh!”

You drop yourself face first onto Remus’ bed in your usual melodramatic fashion, immediately regretting it because fuck that smells horrid. When was the last time it washed its sheets?

Probably never, actually. You sit up.

Your sibling is sitting cross-legged on its desk, working on something that’s got a good deal of goop and limbs. It looks up at you blankly. 

“Ro? What the hell are you doing in here?” It doesn’t sound angry, just very, very surprised. 

“My life is ending.”

“Fun! Does that mean I get full creative control?”

“No! And it’s not fun, you animal!” 

It scrutinizes you, setting its strange arthropodic creation down on the desk. You lean back when it leans forwards.

“Wow, shit must be really bad if you’ve decided to come here!”

You nod, miserably. 

“Okay,” it claps its hands together, standing up only to fall against the bed beside you. It’s half-sitting, half-laying; the way it twists all its limbs up can not be comfortable. “What��s going on?”

You glare at it, but you aren’t sure why. Probably just because it is there and you need something to glare at while you talk. 

“It’s Logan…” You trail off, waiting for Remus to catch on. It takes its time thinking, even more expressionless than before. 

“You know why he hasn’t left his room in days? I tried to check on him but he barely told me anything. Just said he was tired, and ‘thanks for the concern’,” it says at last, catching you off-guard.

“You mean you haven’t heard? I would’ve thought Patton or Janus might have told you.”

It taps its claw to its chin a couple of times, thoughtful. The implication clicks just a second later, apparently, because it lets out a whining groan and drags its hands down its face.

“Oh, not that. I can’t do anything if it’s that!” It exclaims, “Yeah, they did mention it, but I guess I just tune that kind of thing out,” it pauses, “...It’s because you and Vee are fucking now, right?”

You flush, embarrassment and indignation welling up at the back of your throat. You bat Remus’ shoulder, bristly as a thornbush.

“No, we aren’t- I mean, not yet- I mean, that’s none of your business!”

“You did kinda come to me for help, though, so it actually is.”

You glower, refusing to justify that with a response. It rolls its eyes at you, turning over so that it’s flat on its back with its upper half hanging off the bed.

“It’s your bad to come to me for romance advice. You couldn’t have asked literally anyone else- yourself, for example?” It fusses with its talons as it rants, snapping off a couple of nails absentmindedly, “It’s not even the fun kind of gross.”

You can’t believe you’re considering saying it. You won’t! You shouldn’t! You refuse!

“...Please?” Oh fuck, you’ve done it now.

Remus pulls its head up slightly, a very smug grin across its face. Its teeth are horrendously crooked and yellow-stained, looking much too big and sharp to fit into its mouth. 

“Awww, you’re begging? God, you’re so desperate.”

It’s very difficult to resist the urge to push it off the bed. But you are a pillar of restraint today, because it’s not entirely wrong about that, and you still need it to help you.

“Look, it’s too personal to my own life for my abilities to do me any good. And Virgil can’t talk about it- he’s way too frazzled to even think about it, the poor thing. Plus, Patton and Janus aren’t… great… at things,” that’s a very soft way of putting: the former gets much too emotionally invested and the latter is entirely snarky and unhelpful. “So I came here. I think a more, erm, detached point of view could help.”

Remus hums at that. 

“I guess there’s nothing more detached from romantic issues than someone who’s never had any- you’ve come to the right place in that case.”

“So you’ll help?” 

Remus slides slowly forward until it’s landing in a heap on the ground, various crunching noises resulting from the impact. It huffs, lifts itself up to rest its chin on the edge of the bed, and stares at you unblinkingly.

“You’re not allowed to tangent about how pretty his eyes are or how much you love his voice, or anything like that, got it? Otherwise, I will puke, and probably into your mouth just to shut you up.”

You gag, perhaps a bit exaggeratedly.

“That’s vile!”

“Thank you! Now, bitch to me about your problems before I get bored.”

You look down to your lap, winding and unwinding your fingers repetitiously. You think about the past couple of days; in many aspects, it’s been wonderful. Virgil actually wants to be your boyfriend! And that’s what he is now! Of course, you both are just as cuddly as ever, but now you don’t have to worry about holding back. That’s been an amazing relief.

But there’s always that little thing missing, holding you back from being content completely. You want to give Logan his space, truly you do, but every day you feel a little more distant from him. A little further from being able to fix things. It’s familiar in all the worst ways.

You blink rapidly, remembering where you are before the emotions overcome you. With a shaky breath, you begin to speak. It’s just a summary at first, but then you can’t help but give Remus your most detailed accounts of, well, everything. 

You gauge its reaction intensely, but it’s as inscrutable as ever. You finish the tale hurriedly, expectant for some sort of response from the creature across from you.

There is an intolerable silence as you practically see the gears turning in Remus’ brain, which is funny because you thought Octopuses were supposed to have nine of them. You have no idea what it’s using all the other ones for, if that’s the case.

“You laughed at him,” it smirks when it speaks, sounding out the words slowly. You scoff.

“We were laughing at the situation! We didn’t mean it to seem that way. It was just bad timing! ”

It cackles at you, sitting back on its legs and tossing its head back. It sounds like a shrieking kettle.

“No wonder he’s so pissed! He thinks you think his feelings are a joke! His whole deal is not wanting to be that. That’s, like, his big thing.”

You’d… sort of figured that’s what happened, but hearing it out loud still stings. To think you’d done that to him. He was getting so much better with his feelings, but you had to go and ruin it. 

“I already know that I- we-” mental filtering, Roman, “We caused the issue. I wanted to know how to fix it.”

Remus stops laughing as suddenly as it’d started, looking at you with all the sincerity of, perhaps, someone capable of being serious. 

“Corner him,” it answers simply.

“Excuse me?”

“Corner him. Your first mistake was that you went to him in his room, which meant he could just throw you out of there. He’s stubborn, right? Plus, he thinks you were making fun of him. He’s not gonna come out to have a civilized conversation on his own, cuz he’s a dumbass, so I don’t think more space is gonna help you out here. Lure him out! Tie him up, if it’ll make him listen!” Remus pauses thoughtfully, “Orrrrr you could try amputating his legs entirely, but he’ll probably grow them back. He’s annoying like that.”

You choose to ignore the last suggestion, focusing instead on its main point. 

“Are you sure that won’t make things worse?”

“Define ‘worse’ for me, in terms of right now, currently, in here on this day.”

“Good point.”

Remus nods to itself, standing up from the floor and stretching its arms above its head. Its shoulders dislocate, but it pops them back into their sockets once its done. This almost feels like the conclusion of the conversation, but you get the impression that it’s taking its time to piece together a sentence with a little more finality.

“He was obviously crazy about you two before, which means he probably still is. He’s also a sad little shit, though.”

You move to stand as well, curling your fingers against themselves again.

“You really think so?”

“Oh, I have no idea. That’s your department, remember? Now, get out of my room; no alloromantics allowed after-” it checks the time, clearly making the rule up on the spot, “Five twenty-six P.M.” 

“Fine, fine, I can take a hint,” you place your hands on your hips, feeling just a little more confident in the wake of this talk.

“‘Hint’? I explicitly told you to leave.”

You grumble at Remus, but make your way to the door nonetheless. It turns back to its desk, grabbing for a jar that seems to be filled with insect legs. It’s immediately refocused into whatever strange creatures it was working on, pulling them apart and shoving them back together. You let the affronted look fall from your face, replaced by a small, fond smile.

“Thanks, Re.”

It glances back at you, briefly.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s nothing…” it pauses, its hands stilling. “Good luck.”

“Thank you,” you say, earnestly.

You leave, letting it get back to its work. 

 The hallway smells like a fucking Macy’s compared to Remus’ room. Jesus Christ, it’s a relief. 

You shut the door behind you with a soft click, leaning back against it with a deep, shuddering sigh. It’s been a long week. 

Ah, and just on time, as if to prove your point, there’s a gravelly shout and a thump from downstairs. You draw yourself to attention, shaking the slump from your shoulders. You flit through the narrow hall to the top of the stairs, listening carefully for an issue to resolve or an unseemly beast to slay. A prince must protect his subjects, after all.

For a few seconds, all you can hear below is frantic whispering. You set a foot on the top step, but you don’t get the chance to descend.

Virgil is there like a flash of lightning, speeding up the stairs and heading right for you. 

You startle, spiraling back to escape his path, but it’s futile. He catches you at the top, sending you both crashing into the opposite wall. Pain shoots up your back at the impact, as well as sparking in your shoulders where his claws are gripping you. You hiss, the sound dying when you meet his eyes. 

They’re bright. No, glowing. No, seeping- their color is seeping into the world around them, curling in little streaks of murky green and violet around Virgil’s face. 

He speaks, but it’s without distortion. It’s clear and crisp. It isn’t quite anxiety that’s consuming him this way, no, it’s something much more powerful.

“Roman,” he takes your hand in a fervent grip, “Ro, it’s Logan.”

You blink, and before you really know what you’re doing, you're already halfway downstairs.

<<<???>>><<<???>>><<<???>>

Light, sparse taps are turned out against the solid wood door. The sounds, however small, echo throughout this packed little room.

Your fingers stall above the laptop’s keyboard, and for a fraction of a second frustration overcomes you. It’s gone as soon as it comes, replaced unceremoniously by numbness. This is a minor inconvenience to your work, but not much else. Thankfully, you are not one to dwell on it; after all this time, you are finally in complete control of your faculties and your emotions. 

The knock returns, more sure of itself as it hits against the surface. Bemusedly, you wonder why on earth they’re still bothering- but, that isn’t them, it belatedly occurs to you. The rhythm isn’t that of some showtune or another, nor is it harsh and pounding.

You aren’t sure how many days it’s been since you’ve heard that particular sound. You aren’t sure… What day is it?

Well, regardless, you’ve been jarred from your work. You could ignore it and continue on- you’d likely forget it soon enough- but the fact that you recognize the presence specifically as Patton stops that idea in its tracks. He’s sensitive, an overthinker to an extreme degree. He could entirely misconstrue it as a dislike of his company if you were to not respond, unlike a flippant Remus or a collected Janus. And, well…

You’re over it. You’ve been over what Roman and Virgil did to you. But even though you very much are, it’s still perfectly reasonable to not want to be near them. There would be nothing to gain from talking to them, and you’d like to spare yourself the headache. But, you digress; Patton was not a part of what transpired. He would not do that to you, and therefore he is not an impediment to your work. Looking at it rationally, he is in fact a great source of comfo- help, for you. 

With this in mind you stand, making your way across the room. You stagger when you walk, like something’s pulling you in different directions. Odd. The feeling is somewhere in your head, sinking down your vertebrae, insisting that you need to remain in the sanctity of your room. If you leave, the pull suggests, then all your carefully built clarity of mind should become disrupted. How strange for such a convincing conviction to be so seemingly baseless, you reflect.

The knock returns, and that is of course a much more pressing issue. There’s a pull coming from there as well, only one much fiercer and easier to place. It’s the strongest thing you’ve experienced in some time, like someone’s arm around your waist, guiding you forwards (even if there isn’t anyone there, really). 

“Good afternoon,” you intone, drawing the door open with excessive force. Strange, again; maybe you had just forgotten how heavy it was. 

Patton stands across from you, shock written across his features with his fist still poised in the air, as though to knock again. He drops the hand quickly, reaching out instead with both arms while a grin consumes his face. But the limbs spasm concerningly, and stop. He sweeps his arms back and presses his balled hands tightly against his chest, still smiling at you, only a little more strained. His eyes are big, murky pools of color and emotion, raging and contradictory and impossible to make sense of. Even looking into them is overwhelming. 

“Hi, buddy,” he says it so quietly, but the actual words don’t matter. He says it with force, like perhaps he’s localized every emotion he’s ever felt entirely into his tone of voice.

You blink at him, an undefined question on your lips before that pull behind you turns into a sharp push, and before you know it you’re slumping forward into the hallway and out of your room. As you’re forced out, you narrowly avoid hitting the carpet. That’s thanks to Patton, who rushes forwards with a yelp, hauling you up into his sturdy arms with very little effort. 

The confusion you’d felt leaves you in a great big rush, replaced by fire. Your skin is consumed by burns at your friend’s touch- or at least it feels that way, but logically it cannot possibly be actual flame- but fuck logic because you’re on fucking fire.

It’s an all-consuming heat, but that’s hardly all it is. It’s breathing. Like you’d been holding your breath to the point of mad deliria and only now are you gasping in great, relieved breaths of clear air as some great and stifling weight is lifted from your lungs. It also feels like moving from an ice bath to a sauna all too quickly, giving you the greatest relief in conjunction with horrific pain. 

Oh. You’re crying. 

“Shh,” Patton whispers, as though this isn’t anything out of the ordinary, “It’s okay, it’s alright.”

You hold onto him hesitantly. Are you sitting? You think you must be, judging from this position.

“Do you need me to let go? Is it too much?”

You open your mouth to speak, and your voice is in perfect, frightening monotone.

“Yes, please.”

Patton draws back gently, just far enough so that you’re not touching. Big, crocodile tears crawl down your face still, but they begin to die down after a moment. You get your breathing under control, even if just barely.

“I didn’t want you to fall and get hurt,” Patton explains, “But I realize that making you touch a living vessel for emotion might’ve hurt, too, after- well, after that,” he gestures vaguely to your room, and then to yourself. You tilt your head in confusion.

“What-?” You look down at your arms, and the question dies on your lips.

It’s lifeless; corpse-like. The cold, slate-gray painted up your arms and probably across your whole body. The color looks sucked out of you, leaving only emptiness in its wake. The only sign that you’re a living being and not a husk, a shell, a piece of shed skin- other than the tremble of your frame- is the shocks of electric blue running up your body. They could be veins, if not for the fact that the lines were perfectly straight and geometrically cornered.

Patton reaches out, pensively, and presses a cautious finger against the back of your hand. At his touch, the spot bursts into life like watercolor on wet paper. Lively, peachy skin with cool undertones appears, before fading back to gray as Patton removes his finger. And it stings. 

You jump to your feet with a struggle, hardly registering when Patton follows your lead. You spin on your heel, staring through the open door and into your room. You can’t imagine entering it- just the feeling of being near it shortens your breath. It’s frigid, it’s hard and unshakeable and dark. It is completely and entirely devoid of emotion or life, and you hadn’t left that frozen hellscape in days.

It’s a wonder you can feel anything at all, after what you’ve done to yourself.

A shaking gasp rips out of your throat, and before you can think another panicked thought you jolt forward and wrench the door shut. You back away from it until your back hits the opposite wall.

“I- I didn’t realize I was doing it,” your words sound like pleas, falling from your mouth without your consent.

“I know,” Patton stands beside you, close enough to feel but not to burn.

“I didn’t mean to, I just-”

“I know.”

“I was doing better. I was doing so well, I was happy.”

He nods solemnly. 

You’ve been aware of the existence of your emotions, and relatively accepting of it, for a good deal of time. Hypocrisy is unsustainable. You can’t very well preach the negatives of repression on a weekly basis and then go on to practice it indefinitely. 

But what you are… everything that you encompass, everything that encompasses you, it makes it much too easy to slip up. To force out every pesky feeling in favor of more ‘important’ things. What it really is is a pitiful defense mechanism, unfortunately built deep into you by the purpose of your being. And it seems that your room can even do it without your knowledge.

“Logan?”

You look up, unsure if he can even see how miserable you are. Can you emote anymore? You try to frown, but your muscles are stuck like plastic.

“Why don’t we get you somewhere else and see if we can get some of the feeling back into ya, okay?”

You adjust your glasses once, then twice.

“Not your room, I would hope?”

“Oh, goodness,” he lets out a startled laugh, “Of course not, that would be way too much! I was thinking somewhere a little more, uhm, neutral?”

You perk up at that implication. You could just go to the common room, of course, but that’s hardly the only unaffected area in the Mindpalace. Your world isn’t quite real- and even if it is it’s extremely fluid and easy to influence- meaning you can make about just as many locations as any of you would like. Which includes structures ‘outside’ of your ‘house’.

An ill-defined existence like that might irk you, if you were in a philosophical mood. Thankfully, the only mood you’re in right now is sad. 

“Yes, I think a change of setting could be beneficial.”

Patton chirps happily, much like a tree frog, and makes to lead you downstairs. You follow close behind him, chasing that emotional high but still nervous of the pain that it could cause you. 

You’re on edge for reasons enough already. The idea that you could run into them is a prominent one that you’d rather not focus on. 

For a split second you think you might have to, though, because there’s someone sitting on the couch when you step down from the landing. Your breath catches in your throat, but then he looks up at you, heterochromic eyes wide with surprise, and you exhale steadily. 

“Hello, Janus.”

His eyebrows arch up at your greeting, perplexion in his smile. Appraisingly, he observes you, offering only a small wave. He addresses Patton when he speaks. 

“Well, Dear, it seems you were right to be concerned about him.”

Patton mutters something that you can’t quite make out, looking disconcerted. 

You’d be flushing indignantly, if you had the ability to. Your shoulders hunch up as you glance between your friends.

“You’ve been talking about me?” 

They both look acutely uncomfortable, exchanging looks. That’s answer enough for you, though. 

Oh, just look at yourself. You’re a spectacle now, aren’t you? Poor Logan, getting his metaphorical metaphysical heart broken, only for it to become the talk of the MindPalace for days on end as he relapses into repression. Isn’t it such a lovely thing for you to be? A piece of gossip. Entertainment.

Janus’ worry grows on his face, and soon he’s up from his spot and hastening towards you. You step back from him, trying to remember what glaring is meant to look like. He doesn’t invade your space again, but he just… stares at you. 

“Would you like to talk about it?” He asks. You can almost laugh at the question. 

“I’m sure you already know all about it, though, don’t you?”

Both of them are taken aback by your snapping. You regret it immediately; they haven’t done anything wrong, not really. They’re trying to help you, it isn’t their fault that they got caught up in your ‘tragic tale’. But your frustration is difficult to push down. You get the feeling that you can’t push anything down, without worrying that something will snap; it’s almost like an overworked muscle. 

“Whatever you think has been happening out here,” Janus speaks, even and slow, “It’s not that bad, alright?”

Patton nods along with him, and reaches towards you. He falters, eventually opting to hook a finger through the band of your watch instead. Your skin prickles, but there’s no pain. 

“C’mon, I was thinking we could try heading to the Clubhouse.”

That settles your anger, microscopically. You think Janus is being truthful, and Patton is nothing but consoling. And, of course, there’s the clubhouse…

You might not ever admit how much you like it. It’s been around since before you were around, back in the days of just Anxiety (the oldest), Creativities (tied for second), and a very newly formed Morality. Back when it was first made, it really was just a little child’s clubhouse, made primarily by Roman, with some disruptions by Remus, and small additions by a tiny Patton. It was probably the first neutral structure made up by the sides, as they had just begun to figure out their powers and the ‘world’ that they inhabited. Of course no one had the heart to get rid of it after that.

You give Patton a nod, angling your face so that it maybe looks like you’re smiling. He lets go of you, smiling back as he turns on his heel and heads for the door. You trail behind him, knowing that it must look very silly that you’re basically tailgating him. Janus follows you in turn, a few feet behind. He watches over the both of you protectively. 

You step out onto the lawn, hearing grass crunch beneath your shoes. The wind is particularly biting, and the sky above threatens a storm. You’re sure that the weather in the real world isn’t this chaotic, so someone in the mindscape must be sulking. You don’t mind; it’ll only make the warmth of the Clubhouse all the more pleasant. 

The Clubhouse has changed so much over the years that it’s unrecognizable as its original iteration. What once was a little stick-and-stone glorified fairy house is now a cottage-like building, one story high with a thickly thatched roof. Beside the door on either side are big bay windows, each made into little reading nooks. It’s essentially one big room, the outside painted with such vibrant pastels that it easily stands out against its surroundings.

The doors creak when Patton opens them, but not in a way that denotes damage or wear. It’s an old and comforting sound, one that comes from familiarity and consistent use. You step through the threshold, and affection floods your chest.

It isn’t large, but it’s well-equipped. There are ancient oaken tables stacked up with crafts materials, squashy bean bag chairs, and a bright rug or two thrown over the rustic hardwood floors. The nooks have pillows and blankets piled in them, looking like nests. There are bookshelves, art supplies, vinyl records (complete with a record player)- even some new-looking wall displays of preserved bugs and butterflies for decoration. To top it all off, fairy lights were strung across all the walls, making it all seem quite mystic. 

You find yourself taking another step inwards; the amenities are incredibly inviting. Everything here is inviting, and homey, and lived-in. The house itself almost feels alive, nonsensical as that is.

It’s no wonder this is everyone’s favorite.

Patton watches you patiently, his hand resting on the door handle. You take a deep breath, but you aren’t sure why you need it. You make your way to the perfume-y, floral print sofa against the wall to your right, treating everything around you rather reverently. When you sit, you sink down into the couch.

Patton sits a respectful distance from you. Janus strolls right after him, knocking the door shut with the back of his boot before settling in an armchair on the left of the couch.

There’s a comfortable silence, and you start to feel your numbness abate. With a contented sigh, your head falls back against the cushion and your eyes fall shut. Not in an effort to sleep. You’re just… resting. You breathe deeply, letting the atmosphere envelop you.

The corners of your mouth twitch up.

“Logan!” Patton squeaks, “Look!”

Your eyes blink open, mildly startled at the outburst. Patton’s gaze on you is intense, first focused on your face and then moving down your arms. You follow the look, to see your...

Your perfectly normal, flesh-colored arms. Your human-ish, mildly tan, average arms. You feel what you can now recognize as a smile grow wider on your face. 

“Well,” Janus chimes, “It seems you just needed a little break.”

“Maybe so,” your voice creaks from lack of use. You hadn’t even realized you’d been nonverbal since you’d last snapped at them. Neither had drawn attention to it, which you silently thank them for (they, after all, were all too familiar with the experience). 

“Do you feel good enough to talk about what’s been upsetting you?” Patton gently asks you. And you… don’t have an answer.

“What is there to talk about?” You tilt your head bemusedly. 

“I think he means, are you ready to talk to who’s been upsetting you?” Janus explains. Patton hesitates before nodding his agreement.

“I- what?” Your serenity leaves in a rush, replaced by astonishment and outrage, “You expect me to- to talk to them?”

You give them approximately three seconds to respond before plowing forwards with your rant.

“I’m talking to you both, isn’t that enough? You’ve done nothing to wrong me, of course. What does it matter if I don’t speak to those- those- those-”

Janus’ eyes expand to circles, the pupils shrinking to anxious slits.

“Those?” He prompts.

“Tricksters, betrayers, playactors, wolves- whatever you want to call them!” Where were vocab cards when you needed them? All your synonyms can’t carry the punch that you need them to. Insults aren’t much good if you have to explain them after. 

“No!” Patton practically screams, out of absolutely nowhere. You glance at him, stunned, to see him looking like a kicked puppy- er, froggy. He’s on the verge of tears, leaning towards you precariously, with devastation swirling in his big eyes. “This is why you need to talk to them, please, Logan.”

You are so very bewildered, you barely notice that Janus is standing from his chair until he’s already across the room. 

“As I said earlier: whatever you think happened, didn't. I can prove it, too,” he mutters, standing by the door.

“You weren't there, Janus,” you snap, "I tried to tell them how I felt and they- they laughed at me.”

“They didn't!” Patton squeaks. You shake your head frantically, still reeling.

“It was- it was awful, you can’t-”

“No,” Patton interrupts, “I meant that literally. They didn’t do that.”

This interaction is making your head spin with indignation. You are capable of immense patience when it comes to Patton- and Janus, for that matter- but this has become ridiculous. 

“I’m so tired of being made a mockery of, Patton. I won’t stand for it any longer, even if you’re just trying to help.”

He breathes in sharply, about to argue, but then his gaze catches on something behind you. His mouth stays open, but he’s soundless. You jump to your feet, spinning around to see just what he’s looking at.

The door is open. Janus is gone.

There's a shout from the main house.

Taglist: @shrimp-crockpot @glitter-skeleton-uwu @intruxiety @thefivecalls 

(Lemme know if you wanna be added or removed :3)

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #15: Fussing

Prompt: ache | Master Post | On AO3

Pure indulgent projecting. It was a really shitty day.

--

The house was eerily quiet when Aymeric arrived home. Synnove had the day off, and normally on such a day the windows would be thrown open to let in the breeze, an orchestrion merrily playing away while she did chores or prepped dinner and the carbuncles clattered throughout the house and yard.

He opened the door and stepped inside carefully, eyebrows rising a bit at the late afternoon shadows that filled the interior. Faintly, he could hear the orchestrion, but the volume was too low to make it out. He hung his coat on the rack and toed off his boots, then shoved his feet into his house slippers and padded further into the house, in the direction of the den.

The door to the den was cracked, just a hair, and he rapped his knuckles against the wood. “Synnove?” he called quietly.

An absolutely miserable groan was his answer.

Aymeric pushed the door further open and peered inside. Almost immediately, he felt his heart give a pang.

Synnove was stretched out on the couch, chest flat against the seat but her hips twisted so her legs, twisted around a blanket, were sideways in the way that meant she was trying to relieve pressure or pain in her lower back. Her face was wan and her skin pale, and she cracked an eye open to stare at him, bleary and pained. Most telling about her current state, however, was Ivar pressed up against her pelvis and purring furiously, with little Amandina plopped on her head, right on her temple, and doing the same.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said fondly, padding over to her. Once he reached the couch he bent over, reaching behind Synnove to press his knuckles into her lower back while he kissed her forehead. She groaned in relief as he roughly massaged the tense muscles, ruthlessly loosening them.

“Fuck monthlies,” his lady growled.

“Hit you like a rampaging behemoth this time, hmm?” he said, massaging harder. Amandina headbutted his cheek, and he tilted his head to kiss the little carbunclet on the patch of red between her ears.

“Behemoths can be reasoned with,” Synnove muttered. “Was going to make a chocolate-hazelnut cheesecake after lunch to have for dessert tonight, but…”

Aymeric stroked her hair. “Another time,” he said. As much as he adored her cheesecake, he would much rather she rest when her internal organs decided this was the month to wage war. “Where are the other three mischief makers?”

“Down to the market to fetch some things for dinner.”

“I’ll handle that, then. Would you like to keep this orchestrion on, or would you rather I switch it out for you?”

“Could you put one of the comedies on? Doesn’t matter which.”

“Of course, love.” Aymeric kissed her forehead once more, and gave both Amandina and Ivar scritches behind the ear (Amandina peeped happily, Ivar grudgingly mrowled), before he pulled away.

Once the orchestrion roll was changed to one of the comedic performances put on by one of the local theater troupes, he tiptoed out of the den and headed for the kitchen. Once there, he rolled up his sleeves, washed his hands, and set to dinner prep. No doubt what Tyr, Galette, and Roksana returned with would be easy to cook, but that gave him time to set the table and get the side dishes ready. And perhaps dessert.

By the time Tyr trotted through the kitchen door from the garden, Galette on his heels and Roksana in one of the panniers slung over his back, he had rice cooked and strawberries for dessert washed and halved, and was beginning to wilt and sauté spinach.

Hi, Papa! all three carbuncles chorused.

“Hello, children,” Aymeric said, glancing up from the spinach. “What did you find down at the market?”

Tuna steaks! Roksana cheered as she hopped out of the pannier, a package containing fresh sachets of peppermint tea in her mouth. Tyr held while Galette opened the pannier on the opposite side and carefully pulled out a large package of waxed paper.

Aymeric came over to help Tyr step out of the panniers and while Tyr put them away, he accepted the package from Galette, who headbutted him before trotting off to the den. “Well done,” he said warmly. “These can marinate for a few minutes while the spinach finishes cooking.”

Roksana clambered onto his shoulder, loafing happily as she watched him fetch a large bowl and fill it with a mix of soy sauce, sesame oil, and fresh grated ginger. Her nose twitched curiously as he unwrapped the steaks and set them in the bowl. How long will they take to cook? she asked as he moved back to the spinach.

“Not long at all,” Aymeric said, reaching up to rub the top of her head. Roksana purred. “Just a quick sear on either side.”

Once everything was finally ready, and a pot of peppermint tea brewed, he sent Roksana off to fetch her mama while Tyr assisted him with plating everything. Dinner was a quiet affair, with everyone focused on simply eating and keeping Synnove’s tea mug full; Aymeric took the chair next to Synnove tonight, instead of their usual cornerwise position, so he could wrap an arm around her and let her lean against him in between bites of food. Ivar was on Synnove’s other side, his tails draped across her lap and against her stomach.

Dessert was strawberries with clotted cream. Aymeric ate his serving quickly and then stood, kissing Synnove’s kiss cheek as he did. “I’m going to draw you a bath,” he murmured.

His lady huffed tiredly, drooping over her bowl. “You cooked, I’m supposed to clean,” she grumbled.

“And today is the type of day where you are allowed to be a useless lump,” he said fondly.

Aymeric ended up needing to carry Synnove to the washroom, though it meant Ivar could curl up on her and knead her belly during the walk; barely past sunset and she was exhausted from pain, but unfortunately the only pain potions effective on her cramps also left her nauseous. As much as he hated to see her simply grit her teeth and bare it, keeping her hydrated and fed was important. And Ivar, thankfully, didn’t require refilling like a hot water bottle did.

The constant pain was also beginning to make his lady crabby, and so he didn’t linger in the washroom; there was an art to judging when his fussing was too much, and based on her wordless grumbling while he set her down, any further offers of assistance would be taken poorly. Instead, he double checked that she had fresh towels and a change of ratty-but-comfortable clothes for bed, and left Ivar to keep an eye on her while he went to clean up in the kitchen.

Bedtime was thus a little earlier than usual, but not even the twins complained, though they requested an extra chapter from the book he was currently reading to them. Galette tucked in with the girls for the night, ears flicking softly while she chimed a lullaby for her sisters, and Ivar crawled into the banked coals in their room, passing out almost as soon as he curled into a ball.

When Aymeric slipped in his and Synnove’s room, Synnove was face down on the bed, groaning with relief as Tyr kneaded her back. Her spine made the occasional disconcerting crunching sound of popping cartilage—Tyr was clearly taking the opportunity to deal with her absolutely atrocious case of scholar’s back in addition to the lower back pain that struck during her exceptionally bad monthly courses—but the massage and hot bath had finally resulted in the loosening of the tension she had been carrying throughout the day. Aymeric flicked the lights off and joined her on the bed; the trio eventually settled with all three on their sides, Synnove in the middle spooning Tyr and being spooned in turn by Aymeric. Tyr snuggled back against his mama and began that deep, engine-like purr of his that had Synnove going limp in relief.

“Mmmph,” she said, flopping her head down on her pillow. “Thank you both. Love you.”

Love you, Mama. Go sleep.

“I love you, too, Synnove,” said Aymeric, kissing her temple. “I hope you feel better tomorrow.”

“Me, too.”

[hamiltalian-creates]

Wine Mom Dadceit, Pt 6

Summary: Virgil tries to settle in for the weekend without being an absolute gay disaster. He tries. 

Pairings: Mentioned Virgil x Remy, Queerplatonic Patton x Logan, Past Janus x Patton

Words: 1,775

Warnings: None

Logan was a merciful being, he wasn’t going to mess with Virgil about his secret. Besides, he already had a feeling that Janus was doing enough of that. Instead, he changed Virgil’s focus by letting him pick the music they listened to during the drive, before and after their trip to the store. It was a trick that Janus had taught him when Logan took him and Remus out to bond with them while Janus and Roman stayed home and had their own spa day. Virgil relaxed pretty quickly when he was listening to his music and it had the added bonus of Remus liking it and being a mostly calm kid.

Of course, he still got nervous as they pulled up to the house and found Patton waiting at the door.

“He doesn't know, does he?..” Virgil asked, sinking into his seat.

“He doesn’t know a thing. I promised I would keep your secret and I will.”

“Right.. I mean, there’s no secret to keep, but if you and my dad are just going to sit and gossip, there’s no reason to-”

“Ugh, your cover’s been blown! You’re gay, deal with it!” Remus groaned before getting out of the car.

“... Please don’t tell him.”

“I won’t. There’s no need to worry.” Logan gave him a reassuring smile before getting out of the car and greeting Patton with a kiss on the cheek. “Sorry we’re late.. I decided to let them get some snacks at the gas station.”

Virgil silently nodded as he passed both of them with a slushie. He didn’t want to accidentally spill his secret again. He went straight up to his room and put down his bag, sighing as Roman ran into the room. “What do you want?”

Roman pouted and showed him a container of purple slime, glancing between the two, as if Virgil should understand it.

Alright, that was a new one. He didn't understand it, but he knew Roman. “You’re getting creative with your insults, I will say that.”

“No,” Roman whined, grabbing Virgil’s hand. He grabbed the slime and plopped it into Virgil’s hand. “Try it!”

Virgil decided to humor him, messing with the slime in his hands. “Okay... This is actually pretty cool. Why are you giving it to me?”

“It’ll help you be less scared of everything so Remus doesn’t have to fight me because of you! And it’s purple!”

Virgil was surprised by how almost sincere that sounded. “Uh... Thank you. So, it’s a gift?”

Roman sighed dramatically. “Obviously! Do you like it?”

Virgil hummed in pretend thought as he messed with the slime a little more. “I think I do.”

Roman smiled brightly and left the room.

Virgil waited until he was gone before letting himself smile as he played with the slime. It really was surprisingly calming and when mixed with the loud music in his headphones, he definitely would’ve lost track of time had his popstar not walked in a few minutes later. Virgil pulled down his headphones as he saw him and smiled a bit. “Hey... Roman gave me a present, apparently.”

Patton nodded. “Yeah, I was taking him to get some art supplies and he saw it and thought of you.”

“That’s cool..”

“Yeah... Well, I just wanted to say hi and maybe see if you wanted to hang out and maybe talk for a bit.” Patton said, trying not to sound too awkward. He got along well with Virgil, but the angstier he got, the less he felt like he could relate with him. They were so different, Patton couldn’t help but to be awkward sometimes.

When it came to awkwardness, however, Virgil had him beat. “Talk? What’s there to talk about? Nothing's going on,” he said, trying not to sound too defensive.

Patton smiled. “I know, you’re not going to make friends and all that.. We don’t even have to talk, but I thought maybe we could paint our nails?..” He held up a few nail polish bottles.

“Oh... Yeah.. That actually sounds nice.” Virgil smiled and put away his slime, looking down at his chipped nail polish. “I have been putting this off for a while..” Did his nails look like that all week? Did he really let Remy see his jacked up nail polish?

Virgil was pulled out of his mind as Patton sat down with him.

“Something on your mind, kiddo?”

Virgil shook his head, realizing that opening his mouth to answer that question probably wasn't a good idea.

“Okay.. Well, you know, no pressure. I’m just here to do you nails for you, just some father son bonding time.” He looked down at Virgil’s nails. “Oh, how could I forget nail polish remover?” he asked with a laugh. “I’ll be right back.” He got up and went to get the nail polish remover and some cotton balls, quickly getting back to Virgil. “Sorry, I forget how often you have your nails painted..” He sat down and held his hand out for Virgil’s.

Virgil smiled and gave him his hand. “It’s fine. I’m just glad I’m not biting my nails anymore.” That was why Virgil had decided to start painting his nails and he’d stopped since, but he still liked the look.

Patton nodded and began cleaning the chipped polish off of his nails. “You seemed like you were freaking out a bit earlier, is everything okay in school?”

“Yeah... Yeah, everything is totally fine, I’m not hiding anything, just...” He glanced around for a split second. “Caffeine. Yeah, from the slushie, it’s really messing with me, I guess.”

“I thought caffeine was bad for your anxiety.”

How Virgil forgot that caffeine usually induced panic attacks, even he would never understand. “I mean.. I guess it only applies to coffee. I just feel kind of hyper at most right now.”

“Okay... Well, let me know if you start feeling bad, okay?” Patton hummed, focusing on cleaning the black polish from Virgil’s nails.

“Yeah, don’t worry.” Virgil tried to calm himself down and focus on this time with his dad. “So... How are things between you and Logan?”

Patton immediately began smiling brightly. “It’s great... I was kind of scared that I’d start feeling something romantic for him, since what we have is a lot like a typical relationship, but-”

Virgil threw in a dramatic groan for comedic effect. He actually thought that Logan and his dad were a really cute platonic couple.

Patton got the joke and laughed. “I’m serious. I’m surprised that I don’t feel anything romantic, but it’s not like this feels any lesser. It’s just different..”

“What about Roman?” Virgil asked, though it was pretty clear what he thought of the kid.

“Roman’s not that bad and you know it. He’s dramatic, but he’s a really good kid. He’s a sweetheart when he wants to be.”

Virgil nodded and glanced towards his new slime. He’d be lying if he said that he thought Roman was exclusively a brat. “Am I the only person he bullies?”

Patton shrugged. “I think it’s how he shows affection. He’s like that with everyone sometimes and he seems upset when people get offended by it. Logan’s started responding with his own small insults, just poking fun at his Disney obsession and Roman seems to adore it.”

“That... Actually makes a lot of sense.” Virgil thought about all of the times that Roman picked on him and it made sense that he was just trying to be his brother. Remus still liked to bring dead things inside and got upset when it freaked Virgil out, why wouldn’t Roman’s choice of affection be a few mean words?

“Yeah, but I can’t blame Remus for being so protective. It’s kind of sweet, actually, when it doesn’t involve taping Roman to walls.” Patton finished cleaning up the black nail polish from Virgil’s hands and showed him the colors he had. “Okay, choose.”

Virgil picked out purple and black. “Maybe, like, alternating or something?..”

“Oh, yeah, that would look so nice together!” Patton smiled and began painting his nails.

Virgil crossed his legs and simply watched, enjoying the quiet. It was relaxing, even with the scent of nail polish in the air.

Patton stayed silent as he focused on getting his son’s nails neatly painted. He didn’t care about how neatly it was done on his own hands, but he knew Virgil would care about his own. “Maybe you can do mine afterwards,” he commented as he began on Virgil’s second hand.

“Eh.. I’m still going to be drying out, but I can try,” Virgil responded before blowing on his nails to help dry the polish.

“Oh, you don’t have to. I just thought it might be fun.”

Virgil smiled. “I think it’ll be fun, too. It’s nice spending quiet time with you.”

Patton smiled at that. He had a bad habit of speaking through movies, so those were something he tended to enjoy more with Remus. It was weird at times trying to find something to enjoy with Virgil for that reason, but this seemed to be perfect. “I’m enjoying this too.” He made careful work of finishing his other hand before letting them both take a break.

“So, I’m guessing pastel blue for you?” Virgil asked.

“Yep!”

Virgil smiled. “If I'm being totally honest, I’ll never understand why you’re so into pastels.”

Patton laughed at that. “You’ve been in your emo phase for twelve years, I wouldn't expect you to be a fan of pastels.”

Virgil looked down at his drying black and purple nails and nodded. “Yeah, that’s fair.” He instinctively began smiling as he heard his phone vibrate. Trying to be as subtle as he could, he picked up his phone and attempted to seem uninterested as he saw a few more texts from Remy flying in.

“Is that a friend?..” Patton asked.

Virgil did his best to think straight. Or at least to not think gay panic. Popstar didn’t know anything about Remy, he knew that for sure. Remus and Logan both swore not to tell and his father would never rat him out like that, so he was obviously just asking a question. “Not really, we’re just working together on this stupid school project. Yeah, we’re doing a think about... Triangles.” Nailed it.

For obvious reasons, Patton doubted that. “Triangles?..”

“Uh.. Yeah. Like, isosceles or something. Our teacher wanted to give us an easy A project or something.”

Patton gave him a doubtful look. “You know, you don’t have to lie, Virgil. If you don’t want to tell me about your new friend, you don’t have to.”

Yeah, he didn’t expect that to work.

[calenheniel]

Disappearing Act, a frozen fanfic | iv. (finale)

Frozen | Hans, Elsa | Alternate Universe, Drama | G+

She wanted to disappear. He wanted a purpose. Together, they would pull off an impossible feat before the final curtain call.

Part i | Part ii | Part iii | Updates: #DisappearingActFrozen

»»————-　❈　————-««

iv.

It was a packed house on the evening of the performance with audiences clamoring for the Snow Queen and the Illusionist, their chatter and shouting echoing beneath the big top.

Children clambered over each other to get into the front rows, their little hands grasping at the air as the stage hands set up the props for Elsa’s performance. Those who had seen it before shrieked and babbled with excitement at the familiar items – a lit candelabra, a large bowl of water, a plain blue cloak – and those who were about to watch it for the first time peered at the same objects with mildly curious looks, and then at their pocket watches.

Hans and Elsa stood together behind the curtain, both outfitted in their best attire for the evening, their eyes locked.

“You remember the plan?” he asked. “I’ll come and get you towards the end of my act, and then—"

“Yes, I remember,” she said. “You’ll lead from there. And I’m not to ask any further about it.”

“Good. Now get out there, and make this last one count,” he said, looking at her still-gloved hands. “Show them your gift.”

She swallowed, and folded them against her chest.

“Hans…”

“What is it?”

“I—” she trailed off, and closed her eyes. “I’m sorry for making you do this,” she said at length. “I know you don’t want to, and… there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to go, even though I know I must.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder to calm her; when her exhalations softened, he brought it back in front of her, unfurling his fingers to reveal her snowflake pin.

She blinked. “Hans, when did you…?”

He grinned. “Just now. From behind your ear.” At her frown, he continued in a more serious way: “You’re not ‘making’ me do anything, Elsa. I agreed to this – to help you – and so I will.” He placed the pin in her palm and curled her fingers around it, giving her a small smile. “Of course I wish that I could have your company for a little while longer, but I know I can’t keep you here. None of us can.”

Her eyes welled with tears, but she swallowed them back, and pinned the snowflake to the side of her long braid. When she looked at him again, she was smiling. “Thank you,” she said as she removed her gloves, wiping away any trace of weeping from her cheeks. “I should go, now.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “You should.”

When she opened her mouth to speak again, he placed one hand in front of her lips. “I won’t wish you luck,” he said. “You don’t need it.”

Her eyebrow rose, and she took his hand, lowering it to the side. She glanced down for a moment, and then back up at him.

“No. But you do.”

»» —— ««

He paced backstage, ignoring the looks of suspicion and resentment from the other performers preparing close by, his hands knitted together behind his back.

His heartbeat quickened with each exclamation of the crowd on the other side of the curtain, and as her act drew closer to its end, beads of sweat started to form on his forehead. He wiped them off in the next moment, exhaling; when he heard the last, full cheers from the audience, he finally paused in place at the side of the stage.

She took her last bow with a wide smile, her arms full of bouquets, and slipped behind the curtains as they were pulled to a close, her torso still bowed. When she looked to the side, their eyes met, and they stayed that way for a while as the stagehands moved around them to remove her props from the stage, and replace them with his.

At length, she glanced down at her long gloves in her dress pocket, and took them out, intending to put them back on—but with one shake of Hans’s head, she nodded, and placed them on a small table backstage instead.

“Andersen! You’re up.”

Leif’s bark brought them to attention, and they drew closer.

»» —— ««

“Well, I… I guess this is it.”

“Yes, it is.”

“I—this is crazy. I don’t even know if it’s going to work.”

“It will.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t. But I believe it will.”

“I guess that’ll have to do. But…”

“What?”

“I wish I knew what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. Except goodbye.”

“Then goodbye, Elsa.”

“Goodbye, Hans.”

»» —— ««

His act proceeded in the usual way, or at least it seemed to, from what she could discern backstage. It sounded as if a few people had left after her performance, having gotten their fill of entertainment for the evening, but not nearly as many as in weeks past.

She did not move from her spot to the side of the curtain, awaiting his further instruction. Not being sure of his plans, her eyes darted from the curtain to the stagehands’ glowers, and she swallowed.

As the act entered the middle part, she caught sight of a large, brown wardrobe being wheeled over from the back towards the curtain, with the stagehand wheeling it giving her a long, dark look.

She returned it only for a moment before bringing her attention to the prop, and examined every detail that she could make out in the low lighting: the two great bare doors bereft of any ornamental carvings, the four knobby-looking feet holding it up, and the top jutting out in a harsh rectangle.

And in the same moment as she realized its purpose, the curtains pulled back, and both she and the wardrobe were pulled onstage.

»» —— ««

“Ladies and gentlemen—for those of you who were wise enough to stick around for this second act, I have a special surprise for you.”

He paused for effect, watching the audience’s eyes grow wide. As the curtains pulled apart, he continued: “Please welcome back to the stage, one last time: Elsa, the Snow Queen!”

He took her hand and brought her to the front with him to wild applause and cheers from the crowd, and though she initially wore an expression of surprise, she quickly readopted her stage persona, curtsying with grace. She matched his broad, generous smile for the audience, and looked back at him once she finished her reintroduction with warm cheeks, not a single hair out of place.

At the look, he brought her hand to his lips, and gave it a quick kiss; from the corner of his eye, he watched as the wardrobe was set down in place mid-stage.

Turning back to the audience, he announced: “And now, my friends, I am excited to say that I will be performing a trick never seen here before, in this circus: a disappearing act. And before any of you say anything,” he continued at some skeptical looks from the crowd, “this is not the kind you’re used to from me, with vanishing doves and hats and other simple objects. No—today, I present to you a most extraordinary feat of magic: one in which I will make our beloved Queen herself disappear before your very eyes!”

Murmurs of disbelief circulated in the audience, and Hans could feel a tremor run through Elsa’s hand to his. He squeezed it to reassure her.

“Yes, indeed, my friends: it can be done, and I will show you exactly how it will happen.”

He let go of her hand to jump backwards towards the wardrobe, making large, expressive gestures at it and its surroundings as he continued his speech. “Here you will observe a large wardrobe, with two doors and four legs, and – when opened – one that can fit a whole man inside of it. Allow me to demonstrate.” He opened the doors, and hopped inside to nods and more murmurs from the crowd.

“Yeah, but what about the back of it?” one audience member shouted.

“Or below! There’s probably a trick door underneath,” another added.

“Very good,” Hans replied, stepping out again. “As you can see,” he said, knocking against the wooden backing, “there is no way one could escape through the back, nor through the bottom or the floor beneath.” He crouched down and snaked his arm in the small space below the wardrobe, patting it down and pulling dramatically at the floorboards to no avail for comedic effect. “I can guarantee that this wardrobe is of the sturdiest make, with no trickery built in at all.” He motioned at Elsa, who stood to the side. “In fact, I am so confident in the strength of this device, that I will have our dearest Queen Elsa test it herself before she assists me with this impossible feat of magic.”

Elsa took his hand again with only the slightest millisecond of hesitation, and then proceeded to demonstrate the soundness of the prop as instructed, plastering on a smile for the crowd. “Yes,” she said after making all of the expected knocks and pulls, “I can confirm that the Illusionist’s claims are true.”

“You’re just saying that because you two planned the act together,” an older man in the crowd heckled them. “You know exactly how this trick works.”

Before Hans could make a reply, Elsa interrupted, still smiling as she stepped closer to the crowd. “Actually, sir, I’ve not the slightest idea of what will happen – just the same as all of you. The Illusionist never shares his secrets, not even with his fellow performers.” Her appearance was so vulnerable and genuine in that moment, that even the most skeptical members of the audience softened at her speech.

She turned back to look at Hans as she concluded: “So I, too, am very much looking forward to seeing how this turns out.”

Hans’s ever-present grin twitched at the remark, but he carried on. “Yes, indeed—I’ve not told the Snow Queen anything in advance, nor anyone else. And now that she’s verified the sturdiness of this simple wardrobe, I shall proceed with pulling off my most daring trick to date. It is so important that you all know I am being truthful with you, in fact,” he continued, pulling off his gloves, “that I must remove these gloves as well, to prove that I have nothing to hide.” Once pulled off, he tossed them into the crowd to the titters of some of his fawning young female admirers, and he placed one hand behind his back, offering the other to Elsa.

She stared at it for a moment – a long, quiet moment – before placing her ungloved hand in his, her cheeks red as she followed him towards the wardrobe. Once in front of it and facing its already open doors, she allowed Hans to help her inside.

As his figure covered the doorway, he concealed the crowd from her sight, and his face remained the only clear thing to her in the darkness.

She looked at him one last time, and then the doors closed.

»» —— ««

Hans secured the doors and knocked against each side of the wardrobe for good measure, concluding with a final peek at the floor beneath it. He motioned for the crowd to quiet down as he stepped away from it, pulling out a short baton from inside of his waistcoat.

With a flick of his wrist, the baton extended to its full length, garnering some excited whispers from the loyal audience members already acquainted with his mannerisms and flourishes. He threw a knowing smirk and a wink at these individuals, who giggled and chuckled in reply.

“On the count of three and a snap of my fingers,” he said, “I will reopen these doors, and our beloved Snow Queen will have vanished. Now, ladies and gentlemen—will you assist me with the count?”

The crowd noisily agreed, and he nodded. “Alright, then. Let us begin—one!”

Two!” he shouted in unison with the audience.  

A few people preemptively shouted “three!” before him – at which he waggled his finger, tutting, earning some laughter from the audience – and then he made a wide gesture towards the wardrobe, and pointed his baton directly at it.

He took a pause, filling the room with tension, waiting for the hush to fall over the crowd; and at last, he thrust his whole body towards the wardrobe, pressing his bare hands and the baton at the air with great force as he snapped his fingers.

“Three!”

The doors of the wardrobe burst open, and a cold wind swept out from inside of it over the crowd, causing it to shriek and duck down in surprise.

Hans staggered back as well, barely holding onto his baton, and stared with wide eyes as the doors to the wardrobe rattled against their hinges, then slammed back shut again. After a moment, he managed to regain his balance and sweep his hair back into place, patting down his coat and clearing his throat as the crowd continued to shout and shove each other in confusion.

“Good people!” Hans exclaimed, trying to calm them, “fear not! It is all just a part of the act. Look for yourselves.” He put his baton back inside of his jacket and walked in slow strides towards the wardrobe, and once in front of it, he sucked in a deep breath.

In one swift pull, he swung the doors open, exhaling as if he had just come up for air after a long spell underwater. As he examined its contents, he stood stock-still; all he could hear was the sound of his beating heart.

At length, he leaped to the side with a broad smile, and the crowd gasped.

Sitting at the bottom of the wardrobe was a small pile of snow, glistening white, with the snowflake Elsa pinned to her hair on top of it. He knelt down until his eyes were level with the pile, and then took some of it out to the audience, letting them touch the snow with their own hands.

“It’s real!” one child screamed with delight.

“It’s cold,” a woman exclaimed, and quickly brushed it off her glove.

“But… where is the Snow Queen?” another child asked, her voice soft and sad.

“She’s not really gone, darling,” the child’s mother shushed her. “It’s just a trick.”

Hans came to kneel down by the side of the stage in front of which the child stood. She looked down at the snow in her small hands, her eyes welling with tears.

“What is your name, child?” he asked.

“Gerda,” she replied through sniffles.

“Do not be sad, dear Gerda, for she has gone back to her country,” he said, “back to her great palace of ice, where she skates with angels and bears and reindeer, and holds banquets where they serve nothing but chocolate.”

The adults in the crowd around them chuckled at the description, but the child only looked at him with the utmost earnestness. “I would like to go there,” she said, and smelled the snow in her hand. “It sounds like great fun.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” he replied, patting the girl’s head. “I think we all would. Perhaps we will, some day.”

At her hopeful look, he rose to stand again; as he did, the remaining snow in the wardrobe flew out of it on a gentle wind, scattering over the audience like a snowfall from the sky. The children squealed with joy at the effect, and even the older members of the crowd looked on in wonder as the flakes speckled their heads and shoulders, cheering for Hans’s great trick.

“Thank you, thank you, one and all! Enjoy the snowflakes while they fall,” he said as he closed his act with a bow. For one last laugh, he craned his head back to catch a snowflake on his tongue, and then waved again as he went offstage, taking the longest exhale he had all day.

When he finally looked up again, he noticed Elsa’s gloves where she had left them behind the curtains, and stuffed them in his pockets.

“Nice trick, Andersen,” remarked the stagehand who wheeled the wardrobe backstage.

“Hope you can pull it off again,” said another. “So wherever you sent her highness, make sure you get her back in time for tomorrow night’s encore performance, alright?”

Hans ignored their comments and praise as he stalked back to his dressing room, slipping off his boots, tails, and waistcoat when he got inside. His neck rolled back as he sighed, and with his eyes closed, he pulled out her gloves from his pockets, and laid them atop the table, sitting down in front of his mirror.

He stared at the gloves up close after a moment, and then shook his head and brought them to his lips, burying his face in their creases. Leaning forward to rest his elbows on the edge of the table, he shuddered.

When he looked up again, he saw the edge of something white behind his ear in the mirror.

He reached a hand back, and pulled forth the same snowflake pin that had been in her hair, and then inside of the wardrobe. He stared at it, bemused, for a long while; then, he looked up into the mirror, and laughed.

“You’ve done it, Elsa!” he roared. “You’ve vanished, disappeared, just like you wanted! And I’m…”

His laughter subsided, and he looked down at the pin again, curling his fingers around it until his knuckles turned white. His shoulders shook as he trembled, and when he looked back into the mirror, he saw that he was crying.

“I’m still here.”

[casually-inlove]

aah i agree im vry disappointed in this chapter ! like its good like usual, but its kind of a let down after the last 5 chapters... ht rly exposed himself minutes before, and comedy aside, MGS answered him by ignoring him, and then saying "were not friends, were not as close as you think we are". it must have been hurtful for HT, its basically a rejection of recognizing HT vulnerabilities. and its totally In character for MGS to say this, so im not disappointed by it 1/?

i mean HT lay his heart down for Mo to see and theyve known each other for 15 DAYS, its too soon for anybody and especially for Mo who have mistrust problems to respond in the same way ? so running away and deflecting the declaration is cool, i wasnt excepting a "ill never abandon u!!" lol. but then HT being cool with this rejection and having a slapstick comedy just after doesnt feel right. mb show HT swallowing and being disheartened, and then put his usual facade and only then have comedy 2/?

would have been good, bc we would have known "oh ht is actually hurt by MGS reaction but doesnt know how to say it, so he plays it cool and change the subject bc hes still not at ease with being vulnerable". a realistic situation would have been "ht tried to be vulnerable but it was too soon, too much for mo who rejected him, so it confirmed ht biased thinking that showing vulnerabilities is bad and it will prevent ht to be vulnerable in front of someone in the near future". 3/?

i mean it could have been a nice although sad conclusion for this mini-arc, especially since ht have been grieving (?) his mother just this morning. a little step back, and then smth else happen and cause ht to crack completely but then mo is able to respond present and its a step forward. ok im daydreaming but that would have been climatic lol. instead this..ah i dont know i feel cheated, i know its ox' work but still haha ! like when they do an abrupt change of scene after an emotional page 4/

its a trick ox use often and after 300 chapters it feels old n cheap. when u engage in a emotional scene, u cant just do "oops i change my mind!!" and put slapstick comedy or ignore totally what just happened and dont have a progression. u have to stay on this road : u cant put traumatizing backgrounds and mafia affairs and mature problems (kidnapping, mother being threatening into prostitution,etc) n just.. not stick with it and making ur characters not traumatized by it and just 'lol comedy'.

sry im kind of monopolizing ur askbox lol, i guess im kind of frustrated ! it just the last chapters were so good and it was a while since ox use this cheap trick of not going through an emotional scene that i kind of forgot how terrible they were at handling transition between drama and comedy. theyre a good artist all in all (or i wouldnt be this disappointed!!), but they have this failing in their writing an it drives me nuts each time lmao. haa i hope next chapter will be better...5/5

Hell yeah, DEFINITELY, that sums up my thoughts. Also, you don't have to apologize, it was an interesting read and I can tell that you feel strongly about it. While I can’t say that I’m flat-out disappointed, as I wrote in my original post, I’m definitely feeling lukewarm and indifferent about the recent ch.

OX touched upon a few serious matters a couple of chapters before: namely She Li’s fucked up goading and the way it unsettled He Tian -- unsettled in no joking manner as follows from his reaction. Then we get He Tian swearing to beat up anyone who dares bully Mo, and the whole profound monologue from the previous chapter. Just as you say, He Tian truly laid himself bare there. One could argue that He Tian listed the reasons he was enamoured with Mo, or one could argue that he subtly commented on the milieu he grew up in, or one can even read it as He Tian admitting/reflecting on his flaws out loud. There are many ways to construe this scene, each of them is extremely meaningful. Not to mention it took HT visible effort to say these things out loud.

The problem which both you and I noticed is that OX left this mini-arc/mini-subplot unresolved. Instead, they abruptly switched to comedic relief. Much like you, I wasn’t expecting a big reaction from Mo -- no grand verbal declarations at very least. What I expected was a panel (maybe a close up of Mo’s face as I mentioned in my original post) that indicated he actually HEARD what HT told him, that it gave Mo some food for thought. 

As you mention, Mo getting disconcerted and doing the tsun-tsun escape is fairly in character for him. Still, a panel like this would have been very welcome to emphasize his confusion and to justify him not gracing the other boy with an answer, ignoring HT showing his underbelly (which is something that doesn't come easy for him, as we readers know). Okay, sure, OX handled it differently this chapter -- we get Mo silently running away and blurting out the first comeback he could think of. No problem. It works to show that HT’s words had an effect on him, albeit it’s much less pronounced, than, say, the Aquarium scene -- again one would have to wonder why: HT’s “don’t abandon me” is just as strong, if not stronger, than “I’m afraid you’ll forget me”, so it follows that Mo should have been just as affected.

The problem is the way an emotionally charged moment quickly fizzled out into comedy. As you said, Mo blurting out “we are not friends, we are not familiar enough, so I don’t care what you think (of me)!” SHOULD have hit HT harder. Just minutes before we had HT being genuinely disturbed by the idea of someone looking to intentionally hurt Mo, seeking physical comfort, being disquieted by the idea of getting abandoned and losing someone he likes, confessing that he admires the other boy -- yet when Mo utters yet another curt rejection of sorts, we are not shown HT’s reaction, which, logically, should have been there. 

And all of that emotional build-up is cheapened by an accidental dick slap comedy. 

Indeed, showing HT being hurt (disquieted? deflated?) and then putting on a cool guy mask, and ONLY then switching to a slapstick humour would have been more appropriate. It wouldn’t have taken a big or an overly dramatic scene either -- just, IDK, show HT’s eyes widening, or his throat clicking, or his posture slumping, anything to indicate that Mo’s words affected him -- that the whole thing mattered to him. Otherwise, it leaves a bad taste in one’s mouth: “so Imma confess to the person I like and swear to protect them and beg them to put up with me -- oh! forget anything serious that I said, Imma touch some dick now”. While I don't have an issue with comedy coming into focus again, I do wish it hadn't been this abrupt. Had there been a better transition between these scenes, there wouldn't be this "lol jk" vibe that I’m getting.

So yeah, I, too, feel a little cheated. OX certainly has an issue with drama-comedy transitions, which are sort of hit-and-miss for me. Sometimes they work well to alleviate the grave mood, other times they appear to be out of place. The recent chapter is the latter case. Dangling a possibility of climatic resolution for the subplot and then intentionally subverting it just doesn’t work in favour of the plot here. It cheapened the emotional part and made the comedy feel much less fun for me. Of course, no one says that writing is an easy task. Plenty of mangakas, for instance, work with writers to strengthen their script and plots, so it’s challenging when a single person is responsible for both drawing and planning the story. OX is undoubtedly doing a tremendous job. Still, I wish they wouldn’t stick to using the old trick this monastically because it's becoming a trite writing device and works against them on occasion. It’s totally fine to keep the comic light-hearted yet it’s not good to ignore the needed dramatic development.

[artificialqueens]

Got To Have You All the Time (katlaska) - kamylove

Katya’s hurt. Alaska’s far away. Anxiety, adorableness, and soul-searching ensue.

AN - Somebody asked for sick katlaska. This is not quite that. But it’s close! 

Takes place in the same fictional universe as my story They Don’t Love You Like I Love You, a few years later. The title is from a song by Faye Richmonde. There’s some icky medical stuff, but I don’t think it would qualify as graphic.

Alaska’s backstage, at an early show not far from her house, when she gets a call from an unexpected number.

“Trixie?” she says. “Or did my boyfriend lose his phone?”

“No, it’s really me,” Trixie says. “I mean, he doesn’t have his phone, but he didn’t lose it, we–never mind. How are you?”

“You sound tense,” Alaska says. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. And so is Katya, I swear. She’s damaged. But she’s fine!”

Alaska’s brain fills up with images of Katya ODing in a filthy alley and drowning in vomit, because that’s always the first thing that pops into her head. She knows it’s not true, but her lizard brain is convinced.

She’d bet that Trixie has the same problem. 

“What happened?” she asks, forcing her voice to be steady.

“She’ll be fine! But she kind of walked off the stage. Because we both know she’s an idiot.”

Alaska can’t help it. She barks out a laugh and says, “Oh, no, poor thing!” It’s very Katya to get too wrapped up in whatever she’s doing to notice the edge of a cliff.

“I know, right?” Trixie says. “She was laughing at herself in the ambulance. But she broke some bones.”

“Oh, God, which ones?” Alaska asks, hoping they’re not bones that will keep her from working, or worse, force her to sit still and do nothing while they heal.

“Nothing she needs for sex.”

Alaska shakes her head at how differently she and Trixie thought the same thought. 

“You might have to do a little extra work for a while, but-”

“I think we’ll be okay,” Alaska interrupts.

“Right. Sorry.”

Across the dressing room, an old friend of Alaska’s, a WeHo queen who should have been on Drag Race years ago, laughs loudly. Another slips out the door, letting in the sound of a Shea Coulee song.

“Are you at a show?” Trixie asks.

“I’m at ——-. It’s not a big deal. What did she break?”

Trixie hesitates, probably expecting Alaska to throw a fit. God knows Katya would if it was Alaska who was hurt, though with Katya at least 40% would be for comedic effect. Katya’s actually very calm in a crisis. Alaska’s not.

“Her arm, definitely,” Trixie says. “Probably her knee, and maybe a finger or two.”

Alaska gasps. “That’s awful.”

“Don’t panic!” Trixie says. “I’m at the hospital with her, and they already took care of the arm, and now they’re x-raying everything else. She wanted me to call you right away, but I didn’t want to leave her until she had a distraction, sorry. You know how she is.”

Alaska feels a twinge of irrational anger–it’s been at least four hours. But she knows it’s irrational. “No, it’s fine,” she says. “It’s not like I can do anything to help from here.”

“You’re not freaking out?” Trixie asks tentatively.

“No, you gave it a great intro, thank you.”

“No sympathy pains?”

“Not yet,” Alaska says. “But there’s still time.”

Trixie chuckles. “I’ll have her call you as soon as she can, okay? There’s no signal on the first floor.”

“Give her a kiss for me? With tongue?” Alaska asks, because that’s what Katya always tells each of them, whenever they’re going to cross paths without her.

“Consider it done,” Trixie says.

“Alaska, five minutes,” the club manager calls from the door as he sticks his head into the dressing room.

She’s very glad she has work to do. 

<><><>

Trixie goes back inside and waits impatiently. There’s no signal here, either, and she really needs to upload more books, or games, or something.

She’d lied a little bit to Alaska, and she tries not to feel bad about it. At least one out of the three of them needs to stay calm, and Alaska wins out simply by being a few thousand miles away.

She does feel bad about leaving the show, though. She never cancels shows. 

Also it will fuel rumors about her and Katya, which will be a pain in her ass, but will actually be better for Katya and Alaska, Queens of the Big Secret. 

There are pluses and minuses to everything.

She yawns. The adrenaline from the stage had been pumped up even more by seeing Katya fall off it and worrying about Alaska’s reaction, and now it’s wearing off. She wonders if there’s a cafeteria that sells coffee in the middle of the night.

Before she can investigate, a tech wheels Katya and her IV cart out through the metal doors. She’s groggy and miserable, but when she sees Trixie, she calls up a smile and tries to wipe the pain off her face. So Trixie calls up a smile, too.

“How’d it go?” Trixie asks as she stands up to join them.

“It hurt, but I made a new friend! This is Steve!”

Trixie holds out her hand to shake. “Hi, Steve!”

He grins and says hello.

“Did you call her?” Katya asks. “Did you? Did you?”

“She says I should give you a kiss with tongue.”

“Oooh!“ 

“Not happening,” Trixie says.

“Some support system you are,” Katya says. “Is she okay?”

“Of course she’s okay. You’re the one in the fucking hospital.”

Katya pouts. Trixie can’t tell if it’s fake. “She’s not worried about me?”

“Of course she’s worried about you. But she’s fine. She’s at-”

“I know where she is,” Katya cuts her off.

Right. Trixie knows better than to drop any potentially identifying information. Or she usually knows better. “Sorry,” she says. “Does your shared calendar list when you’re going to take a shit?”

“Of course it does,” Katya says. “We’re not animals.”

The orderly–Steve–snorts and turns it into a cough. “Sorry,” he says.

“Steve?” Katya asks. “Are we making you uncomfortable, Steve?”

This kid has no idea what he’s gotten himself into, Trixie thinks.

“I’m gay, honey. I know who you are.”

Or, he knows exactly what he’s getting himself into, and how to use it to distract his patient. 

“Wow, I did not clock you at all,” Trixie says, looking him up and down.

“It’s the scrubs. You can’t be fabulous in this shit.” He gives them a triple snap.

“And you didn’t even let on that you knew me?” Katya says. “I love you, Steve.”

“So you have a boyfriend? Girlfriend? They-friend?” Steve asks Katya.

“I do,” Katya says coyly, biting her lip. Trixie rolls her eyes. 

“And it’s not this one?” He jerks a thumb at Trixie and winks, making sure Trixie knows they’re on the same side.

“Hell no,” Trixie says. “And if this ends up on Reddit, I will come find you, Steve.”

“Steve would never do that to us,” Katya says. “Would you, Steve?”

“I go there for spoilers, not drama.”

Katya’s mouth opens in a delighted O. “Do you know who makes it to the finale this season?”

“Do you?” Steve asks.

“Oh, no,” Katya says. “I don’t know a single spoiler ever.” She crosses her heart and holds up her free hand. “I swear to god.”

It’s not true, of course. Katya always knows more than she wants to, because Alaska knows more than she wants to, from getting called back to appear in every damn season lately. 

“I don’t believe you,” Steve says. “Don’t you all talk?”

“I only talk to the non-snaky ones,” Katya says.

“Oh, my God,” Trixie says with a startled laugh. Katya’s replaced all of her old addictions with whatever high she gets from skirting the edge of outing herself, and it always catches Trixie by surprise.

“Steve?” Katya says. “My boy-slash-girl-slash-they friend is really pretty.” Even through the pain she’s glowing, like she always does when she talks about Alaska.

“You want to tell me who it is?” Steve asks.

“Never,” Katya says. “Sorry, Steve.”

They’re back in the emergency room now, and Steve wheels Katya into a curtained-off cubicle. A nurse follows them in and helps him get Katya onto the bed.

“Gotta leave you ladies here,” Steve says.

Katya waves goodbye and says, “Thanks, Steve! It was nice to meet you!”

“Thank you,” Trixie says.

“He was nice,” Katya says. “Wasn’t he nice?” she asks the nurse. 

“Very nice,” the nurse says. Her name tag says Mariela, and she looks like she’s at the end of an 18-hour shift but would otherwise be a friendly person. “How’s your pain level?”

“Excruciating,” Katya says brightly.

“You sure you don’t want codeine?”

“Unfortunately, yes, I’m sure,” Katya says. 

“We’ll get you another nerve block, then,” Nurse Mariela says. “Back in a few.” And she walks away crisply.

“Steve was a sweetie,” Katya says. “Boyfriend material?”

“He had a ring on. Are you sure they didn’t give you the good stuff?”

“What? I don’t check anymore. I am a spoken-for woman.”

“You never checked,” Trixie says.

“I did! Most of the time.” Katya holds out her good hand in a grabby motion. “Give me your phone.”

Trixie hands it over. There’s no use objecting.

Katya looks at it, unlocks it. (Trixie’s password is another thing Katya somehow always knows.) She checks the settings, shakes it, holds it up in every direction. “No signal,” she says finally. “Fucking hospital.”

“Katya, she’s fine.”

“I know. I just want to talk to her. I like her.”

Trixie knows they always talk after shows. And before, and often during. Before going to bed, after waking up, during breakfast … It’s cute and Trixie’s over the moon for them, but it does sometimes make her own love life feel like child’s play. A preschool romance, how cute, let’s push each other off the swingset.

She’s not jealous of Alaska. She’s jealous of both of them for this ethereal freaking connection they have, and she can’t even be mad about it. She likes them too much.

“God forbid you should go an hour without making googly eyes at each other,” Trixie says.

“I could make googly eyes at you instead.”

“Please don’t. Please don’t.”

Katya laughs maniacally, wheezes, and slaps her thigh. Trixie knows it’s a mistake as it’s happening, but there’s no time to stop her.

“Ow! Fuck!” Katya says. “That fucking hurt! OW! Oh, my God!”

“I’m sorry,” Trixie says, wincing.

After a few breaths to calm herself down, Katya says, “You should be." 

"I’d really like to hear you explain how any of this is my fault.”

“Give me a minute, I’ll come up with something.”

Mariela returns with a tray of needles and vials. Katya distracts herself by playing with Trixie’s phone in her free hand. She hates shots. She never even did intravenous meth, Trixie’s been reliably informed more than once.

“Hey, you have a voicemail!” Katya says. “Oh, that’s better already, thank you,” she tells the nurse.

“I do?” Trixie says. She takes the phone back as Mariela finishes up and leaves. “But it didn’t ring." 

It won’t transcribe or play, either. She can just see that it’s from Alaska.

"Is it her?” Katya asks excitedly.

“Yes, but-”

A young doctor interrupts by walking through the curtain, introducing herself, and asking Katya to confirm her name and birthdate.

Katya rattles it off, and turns immediately to Trixie. “Go call her?”

“I don’t have anything to tell her yet,” Trixie says.

“Caaalllll heeerrrrrrrr,” Katya says.

“You may need to leave for privacy reasons,” the doctor says.

“No, you can tell him anything,” Katya says quickly. 

“Significant other?" 

"Chosen family,” Katya says, and points at the phone. “That’s my extremely significant other. Caalllll herrrrrr!”

“Okay, I’m going!” Trixie says. 

As she leaves, she hears the doctor saying, “Let me just pull this over so we can take a look at your films.”

She goes outside to call, walking away from the entrance to escape the smokers, and she doesn’t bother listening to voicemail first.

Alaska answers before the first ring ends. “Trixie?”

“I told you not to panic,” Trixie says.

“I’m not!” Alaska says, but her chuckle is rueful. “I was just walking home and I thought it was worth a try.”

“Believe me, she’s dying to talk to you, too.”

“Aww,” Alaska says, just the way Katya says it.

“There’s a doctor with her now. She was about to give her the x-ray results.”

“Oh! Go back in, go back in!”

Trixie has to laugh. “That sounded exactly like her. I’ll let you know what they say, okay?" 

They say goodbye, and Trixie hurries back inside.

<><><>

Alaska’s not panicking. She’s not. But she is worried, and not used to being cut off from Katya; their relationship is founded constant, instantaneous, and frequently sarcastic contact, and has been since before they even knew they were a couple.

It’s not the codependent, drug-fueled separation anxiety she had with Sharon, no matter what Trixie might joke about. It’s more that she wants to tell Katya everything, and having to keep it all in is making both her brain and her fingers itch. 

And lurking at the edge of her consciousness are things they should have discussed by now–in all the thousands of words they exchange every day–but haven’t.

She only has one number to perform, and when she gets home, she has nothing to distract herself with but packing. Which is a lot less fun without Katya’s commentary, in person or on facetime or even in texts.

She makes herself a sandwich and only eats a quarter of it, then stands in the middle of her drag room, lost and staring at the racks. Maybe she can just grab half a dozen dresses and stuff them in her luggage and hope for the best.

She pulls out her phone, knowing it’s pointless.

She puts it away, then takes it out again. Then she goes to the bedroom and leaves the phone there, but goes back and gets it a few minutes later.

She hates the thought of Katya in pain. It’s bad enough when Alaska’s with her. (Katya had twisted her ankle in a fucking Target a few months ago and fully enjoyed Alaska’s coddling.) It’s torture to hear about it through an intermediary, even if the intermediary is Katya’s best friend.

Damn. She shouldn’t have come home. She should have stayed to cheer on the others, or dragged someone back here to talk it out. She’s still in half drag, for fuck’s sake.

She can’t call her mom, or Katya’s mom. It’s too late. All her local friends will be either drunk, in bed, or on stage. She tries her brother, who would make her laugh if nothing else, but his phone is off, and she doesn’t leave a voicemail.

"Dammit, Katya,” she says to the room. “You could have at least waited until we were on the same damn stage.”

That’s a dumb thought to think. Sighing, she lays out her suitcases, and after staring at them for a while, she grabs a random armful of clothes, half a drawer of Capezios, and her three favorite wigs, and tosses it all on a chair. And then she stands there staring at the chair.

Maybe she can fix this mess once she hears from Katya. But she has no way of knowing when that will be, and her flight is in five hours.

“Stop it,” she tells herself. She sits heavily on the floor and starts rolling up clothes and bagging shoes. She packs them, and unpacks some of them because she didn’t do it right the first time, and unpacks some more because she can’t make a single damn decision.

Finally, her phone beeps with a tone that isn’t Katya’s.

“Three broken fingers,” the text says. “Dislocated kneecap.”

Alaska recoils in sympathetic pain. Knee stuff is bad. Knee stuff could fuck up her splits permanently.

“And don’t be mad,” the next text says. There’s no time to reply before the next one appears. “She had a compound fracture in her forearm but they took care of that and sewed it up before I even called you. She’s fine!”

Horrified, Alaska starts typing before she finishes reading. “You didn’t tell me it was a compound fracture!" 

"Sorry. I knew it would freak you out. She’s FINE. They’re keeping her overnight and I think there’s a signal upstairs.”

“She had a bone sticking out of her fucking skin!”

“But she doesn’t anymore! Look, I don’t get to lose it and you don’t either. I can only handle one of us right now and that’s KATYA.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Alaska replies quickly. “You’ve been great tonight and we’re both lucky you’re there.”

There’s no response, and Alaska can’t blame her. Katya on a good day is A Lot, and while Alaska doesn’t feel overwhelmed by her anymore, she understands why Trixie does. And Trixie doesn’t need Alaska also being A Lot, on the other end of the phone line. 

She stands up, paces, glares at the suitcases, and makes an iffy life decision: she’ll go to sleep now, calm the fuck down, and get up when Katya calls or when her alarm goes off, whichever comes first.

<><><>

Alaska’s subconscious knows Katya’s ringtone, and she grabs her phone before she’s really awake. “Kati?”

“Aaaaaaal, I am a pitiful, broken shell of a biological woman.”

The humor in Katya’s voice improves Alaska’s mood immediately. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”

“Me too. God, I’m a dumbass.”

“I’d like to disagree with that, but-”

“But you can’t!” Katya says, laughing a much less energetic laugh than usual. “You can’t! It’s demonstrably true!”

“Well, you’re my dumbass, for what it’s worth.”

“Stop it. I’m emotionally fragile today. You’re going to make me cry.”

“I would never. How much does it hurt? Is Trixie still there?”

“Not too bad, and no. They have an early flight. Latrice brought me my phone and some clothes, and then they both had to go.”

Alaska’s heart drops, along with her momentarily heightened mood. “Fuck. I don’t like you being alone in the hospital. When can you leave?”

“Later today, but I can’t fly for at least three days, so I-”

“Three days?!”

“They said a week is better. Something about swelling, or an aneurysm, or-.”

“An aneurysm?”

“No, no aneurysm! That’s just what can happen if you fly too soon, and I’m not flying!”

Calm the fuck down, Alaska tells herself. “No. Okay. You’re fine. Trixie kept telling me you were fine." 

"Stop,” Katya says. “Breathe.”

Alaska sighs. “I’m breathing. I’m just–can you even take a piss by yourself?”

“I’ll figure it out. And I have no shame about pissing myself if necessary, as you well know. And there’s room service!”

Alaska looks at the clock and tries to figure out the math of her flight–when’s the latest she can leave, how long can she continue to put off packing, when does she have to be out the shower–but her brain won’t cooperate.

“I can hear you thinking,” Katya says, “and no, you can’t cancel South America. You have never cancelled a show in your life. I’ll be fine!”

“You’re not fine,” Alaska snaps. “You’re alone in a hospital room on the other side of the country with I don’t even know how many broken bones, I lost count.”

“I’ll keep count. You don’t have to. Al. Are you packed?”

“Half. What do they have you on? Is it working?”

“It’s a Tylenol drip or something, and they keep giving me these shots that I swear are a fucking miracle. I made them write ‘no opioids’ on my chart.”

“See?” Alaska says. “That’s why you need someone with you! Doctors fuck that shit up all the time!”

“Al. Is your flight still at 7:55?”

“I–yes.”

“Then you need to finish packing right now. Oh, no,” she says to somebody else. “No eggs, please. Could you take them away? Thanks.”

“They’re feeding you food you don’t even like!”

“No, they’re not. I have toast and cornflakes and orange juice and I’m fine. Pack.”

Sniffling, Alaska squeezes her eyes shut. They’re burning. “Kataya.”

“Pack.” Katya crunches on something, and then yawns loudly.

“I’m keeping you awake,” Alaska says.

“Fuck you, no you’re not. The lack of research into non-opioid pain relief is keeping me awake.” She stops for a second. “Are you crying?”

Alaska sniffles again. “It’s so dumb. I’m tired and pathetic, and you’re the one who’s hurt.”

“Yeah, but I’ve been entertaining everyone else to keep myself sane for hours, and I know you’ve been ruminating instead.”

Ruefully, Alaska says, “I ruminated so hard I had to go to sleep.”

“I knew it! I have got you pegged, gurl.” There’s a brief pause. “Don’t make a bottom joke. If you make a bottom joke, I’m breaking up with you.”

“I won’t make–oh, my God, you’re still doing it!”

“Huh? Breaking up with you?”

“Entertaining me. You shouldn’t have to worry about that!”

“Of course I should. It’s in the job description. Now pack.”

<><><>

They hang up when a gaggle of doctors and med students swarms into Katya’s room, which frankly does nothing for Alaska’s anxiety level. She goes to splash cold water on her face and finds she never even took off her makeup. So she showers as quickly as she can, throws on some clothes for her flight, and goes back to sigh over the open suitcases on the floor.

Nothing fits the way it usually does; her favorite lashes disappeared somewhere between the club and now; the sunscreen isn’t where it’s supposed to be; she has to check her phone to see how many shows she’s doing, because she can’t keep even basic information in her head anymore.

Frustrated, she throws a Louboutin at the wall and refuses to cry again.

If sleeping earlier was an iffy life decision, the one she’s about to make is unquestionably awful.

No, she corrects herself. It’s a bad decision professionally. But she’s reached a point in her life, and in her career, where she’s allowed to put her personal life first, once in a while. 

Anyone who hates her for it can just send her a million snake emojis again.

<><><>

Katya wakes with no concept of time. There’s sunlight in the room, but she doesn’t know which direction the room is facing. There are loud voices in the corridor, but that means nothing. Her stomach is empty. Her broken fingers are throbbing, but strangely, not her knee or her arm. And she smells…

“Al?” She looks around, and finds her boyfriend curled up in a stylish, upholstered chair that suggests she’s going to pay through the nose for this room.

Alaska’s got one foot under her, and the other leg thrown over the arm of the chair. She’s hugging her old backpack to her chest, with her glasses practically off her face and her neck curled at what can’t be a comfortable angle. There’s no product in her hair–she doesn’t leave the house without product in her hair–so a wisp of frizz is flopping down over her eyes.

Katya’s never been so simultaneously overjoyed and enraged to see someone in her life.

A nurse bustles in, knocking perfunctorily on the door. “Mr. McCook, you’re awake! Let’s change out that drip and get you ready for dinner.” She notices the sleeping form in the corner. “I heard your husband was here. He’s as cute as you are!”

Katya doesn’t react to the word husband–you do whatever you have to do to get into a hospital room–but it seems to wake Alaska up.

“Your wh–Kati?” She jerks up straight and looks right at Katya. She might still have a little purple shadow in the corner of one eye, but Katya can’t be sure.

“Yes, darling,” Katya says. “I’m here, and you’re an idiot, and you have no idea how happy I am to see you.”

Alaska startles when she sees the third person in the room. ���Oh, hi,” she says.

“Hi there. Are you Mr. McCook also?”

Katya laughs. Alaska, barely awake, takes it seriously. “No, I–I mean, we don’t have–professionally it’s just-”

“Honey, stop,” Katya says. The nurse changes out the bag on Katya’s drip in a few practiced movements, and Katya squints to see her name tag. “Tina here isn’t going to kick you out. Hi, Tina. I’m Brian, and that’s Justin, and he’s an idiot who shouldn’t be here.”

“Fuck work,” Alaska says. She already looks less anxious than she sounded on the phone, and she starts stretching her long neck, to wake up. Katya knows which muscles Alaska will work through first, second, third, knows exactly where Alaska will be sore from sleeping like that, and she smiles.

“He’s also a workaholic suffering from temporary insanity,” Katya adds.

“Oh, no, I agree with him,” Tina says as she checks Katya’s pulse. “Family comes first, right? There are no meds in that bag. The doctor wants to switch you over to oral administration before we let you go. How’s the pain?”

“It’s actually okay. Did you give me another injection while I was asleep?”

“An injection of what?” Alaska asks.

“I told you about the miracle shots,” Katya calmly reminds her.

“Yes, we did,” Tina says, and explains what they use to numb the nerves, which Katya hadn’t known was possible until they gave her the first one. “Are you hungry, Brian?”

“I could eat a horse,” Katya says. Tina leaves with a smile, and Alaska bursts out in a laugh at the secret innuendo.

“You slut,” Alaska says lightly. “You won her over fast.”

“Hearts and minds, one fracture at a time. Remind me to tell you about Gay Steve. And Luis. And Marie Adeline. Her son’s a nurse here, too! And Kang, she’s my doctor.”

“Everybody loves you.” Alaska finally stands up and approaches the bed.

“God knows why, but I’m used to it. Hi.”

“Hi.” She leans down to kiss Katya on the forehead.

“That is not the kiss I was expecting.”

Alaska winces, and runs her tongue over her front teeth. “I don’t think I’ve seen a toothbrush in like a day, I forgot to bring it. You don’t want-”

“I do,” Katya says, and puckers up. Alaska gives her a little peck. “Ew, that was disgusting,” Katya complains.

“I warned you. The pain’s really okay? You looked like you were sound asleep.”

“I think I was. They gave me an SSRI I used to take a long time ago. Knocked me right out,” Katya says. “Now, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m an idiot, like you said.”

“Also demonstrably true.”

“And what your new friend said. Family comes first.”

Katya’s heart feels like it could jump out of her chest. She reaches for Alaska’s hand. “That is the corniest thing I have ever heard you say, and I’m never going to let you forget it.”

Alaska gives her that soft, crooked smile Katya loves, and squeezes her fingers twice, like a heartbeat.

Then she deflects with a smirk. “You know,” she says, “between Trixie leaving the show with you, and me cancelling six shows-”

“Six? That’s the whole tour!”

“-Reddit’s going to have plenty of things to talk about. I’ll reschedule, it’ll be okay. I’ll make it okay.”

She’s telling herself that, too, not just Katya. Katya rubs the back of Alaska’s hand with her thumb, and lets the subject go.

“Let’s make up a long, complex love triangle narrative,” Katya says, “where you’re the sad but sublimely gorgeous third wheel, and I’m married to a prick who can’t get it up, and I’m the quirky, unnaturally pretty girl you come to blows over.” She sighs happily. “It’ll be beautiful. It’ll be heart wrenching. I’ll cry. And then I’ll dump both of you for Willam.”

Alaska cracks up, and Katya joins her, gratefully. 

“Are you sure they didn’t give you the good stuff?” Alaska asks.

“That’s what Trixie said.”

“Because at your highest level of functioning-”

“-I come off high as a kite. The bird, not the toy.”

“There’s a bird called a kite?”

“I told you you were an idiot. Or maybe it’s like a stingray? I’m an idiot, too.”

“I couldn’t leave you here by yourself,” Alaska says, scrunching up her nose. “Somebody has to keep you alive and entertained.” She thinks about that, and adds, “Maybe the next time you do a faceplant off a stage I can be cold and detached.”

“Maybe next time you’ll be with me.”

“One can only hope,” Alaska says. Then she winces again. “Oh, fuck, I need to send flowers to Trixie. Don’t let me forget.”

“Why? She said you were an absolute gentleman. A credit to our relationship. A credit to the species homo." 

"She did not say that, and you are a lying liar.”

“She almost did!” What Trixie actually said was that Alaska was a grown-up and could handle herself, but Katya could read between the lines.

“I was a credit to the species homo,” Alaska says, “right up until I turned into a scared little goblin. I’ll tell you about it later. Did they say when you can leave?”

“They said they’d check on me before dinner and decide for sure.”

Alaska ostentatiously checks her phone. “It’s 4:30.”

“Be nice,” Katya says. “My mom’s a nurse. We like nurses.”

“I know your mom’s a nurse, shut up. Do you need me to do anything? Does the hotel know you’re extending?”

“Yes, they know.” Katya thinks for a minute. “I’m sure there’s something practical you could be taking care of, but I don’t care. Just squeeze in here, we can watch Golden Girls and you can tell me how much you love me.”

She tries to inch away to make room on the bed, but pain stabs her in at least five different places. “Ow, fuck!”

“Let me help you, for fuck’s sake!”

Alaska was right. Katya would have starved or died of filth alone in a hotel room. She grumbles about moving anyway.

Eventually they get Katya settled and the pain back down, and Alaska sits up against the headboard next to her. “Tina’s going to kill me,” Alaska says, but Katya can feel her starting to relax.

“Oh, the irony. Now shhh, I’ve never seen this one,” Katya says. Alaska’s on her intact side, her hips by Katya’s head and her legs stretched out along Katya’s body. Katya lets the warmth seep under her skin.

Alaska quotes along happily with the first episode, but then goes quiet for the second. Halfway through, she asks, “Do we know a good gay lawyer?”

“Mmm,” Katya says. “Hospital visitations.”

“Power of attorney.”

“Healthcare proxy. All that stuff.” She tilts her head back to see Alaska’s face. “Did they give you a hard time?”

“No, but I wouldn’t have been surprised.”

“Not the most queer-friendly state.”

“No. And the amount we travel…”

Katya nods. “Somebody will, eventually. You up for this?”

Alaska scritches Katya’s scalp, and Katya sighs in appreciation. “I’m in for good. You?”

Katya nods. “Till death. And then I’ll be haunting you, and we’ll have all the kinky ghost sex.”

“Well, if you’re going to haunt me anyway,” Alaska says, slow and deadpan, “it’s only fair that I get to decide when to pull the damn plug.”

Katya laughs until she wheezes, and Alaska resists for a bit before joining in.

“Luckily,” Alaska says once they’ve calmed down, “I’ve got nothing to do for the next week but help you pee, and search for lawyers on the internet.”

“Not nothing. You’ll also be giving me a lot of head.”

“That goes without saying.”

They share a suggestive smile and go back to watching TV. Alaska starts quoting the dialogue again as the last bit of tension leaches out of her body, and Katya virtually melts into her side. One scene later, she gets bored and throws a possessive arm over Alaska’s leg, tapping out a restless beat on the inside of her knee. 

They’ve talked about marriage, and decided it’s too heteronormative for them. But this, the legal shit. The legal shit matters. It’s only luck, and the privilege of having supportive families unlike so many couples they’ve known, that’s allowed them to ignore the odds for so long. 

Nurse Tina returns to find Alaska happily voice acting all the roles in one of her favorite episodes, and Katya happily tapping out a song that will make Alaska laugh when she recognizes it.

“I should make you move,” Tina says. She’s got a cup of pills in one hand and a cup of water in the other. “But you two are just too cute. I guess gay marriage isn’t so bad, after all!”

Katya tilts her head back to look at Alaska’s face. “Your point.” But she smiles at Tina anyway. 

Alaska smiles, too. “Exactly,” she says, squirming to get her phone out of her pocket. “Never mind tomorrow, I’m going to start that search right now.”

[rwbyremnants]

WARNINGS: kink club, body painting, threesome, french kissing, nipple play, fingering, cunnilingus, anal play, anal sex.

Holidays coming up! I'll try to post the next chapter of PatD on Christmas Eve so you guys get something fun for a present haha. Hope you all have a good one!

=Chapter 8

A month after their strangely romantic encounter, there had been no further lapses. No kisses, no “love making”, no intimate words. Qrow and Winter had seemed to return to normal play again, with the occasional session now of Winter dominating. Even if they were rarer, they were something Qrow was beginning to let himself tolerate more and more. There was something relaxing about letting someone else take charge instead. But for the time being, it seemed another romantic aftercare was off the cards.

Now with enough confidence to go without the lanyard, Qrow and Winter had returned to The Clamp for yet another outing. A few drinks in, and both of them were loose enough for what the evening had in store: conversation or play. Slowly walking up the stairs to the first floor, Qrow held the door open for his partner, lightly bowing his head. "After you, Princess."

"Thank you," she chuckled as she followed, taking off the simple coat that had covered her leather-and-lace gear. She had shown it to him and he had approved, so it was what she would be wearing that eve until their play had ended, and she was thrilled. "And you've been remarkably quiet about what we're getting up to, Master. Anything I should be warned about?"

"Oh, I have a little something waiting in one of the rooms… Something I'm sure is gonna float your boat." He'd indeed been very quiet about such matters. There was the odd text message he'd send every now and again, and a lot of checking for new ones. Something that Winter had perhaps picked up on, but knew not why.

Either way, they weren't on the upper floor just yet. And Qrow saw little point in rushing. Not when there were interesting things to see. Such as a pair of dark-haired twins, very nearly nude, who were chained to a wall with a sign above them that said "Paint Us." So far, they'd only had a few daubs placed on various points of their bodies, and they looked like they were bored with everything due to the inattentiveness of the other patrons.

"Let's give them a break, shall we?" Winter whispered to Qrow as she approached them.

"I am not artsy whatsoever, but what the hell?" He nodded, approaching next to her, just about ready to grab the brush when he scanned the room again - and stopped. Suddenly, grabbing a brush was the last thing on his mind.

Toward the back of the room was the same ginger-haired man with his smaller three-tone-haired companion. The one for whom Winter had once obtained a card, and probably sought out activities with. And, he was reasonably sure, the one who ignored her safety words and shamed her for using them. What was giddy excitement for the evening had turned to anger instead, that was continuing to grow as he talked to a younger looking sub, one whom was clearly only there to watch.

"There… we… are," Winter muttered as she slathered the rest of the word "Princess" across one of their bellies. The girl writhed and giggled at the sensation, casting an appreciative glance back at her. "Now then, I think it's your… Qrow, what's the matter?"

"Him, over there." He gestured toward the fellow, who was just tipping his hat to said sub after he handed her a card, before moving on to look at more of the club activities himself. Yet again, he had a lead attached to his young accomplice, guiding her the whole way. "Is that the guy who ignored your safety word?"

Grimacing, Winter laid a hand on his bicep. "Even if it is, I'd appreciate it if you dropped the matter. I don't want to cause a scene and get kicked out of my safe space."

Despite gritting his teeth in sheer anger, Winter had a point. As much as he wanted to run up and sock the man in the jaw, he had more to think about than his own anger. It was Winter's reputation here that was on the line. "Right," he finally agreed, sighing deeply to calm himself down. "You're right. Can't do that in here."

"Thank you." Then she leaned up and gave him a brief peck on the cheek. "Both for respecting my wishes, and for being 'macho' for my sake. Maybe it makes me a little old-fashioned, but that kind of turned me on."

Mostly, it came as a surprise that such a thing happened; but the peck was enough to calm Qrow right down. His grateful smile eventually turned into a small smirk. "Dunno why that would turn you on, but I guess I'm doing something right."

"Oh, every girl wants a big, strong man who's willing to protect her, doesn't she?" Passing the brush across to him, she paused to think that over. "Well… every straight girl, that is. I can't speak for all lesbians, but even my sister wanted a big, strong woman."

"You ain't exactly straight, though…" Qrow couldn't help but correct her, taking the brush gratefully to make his own mark on the other twin, instead. Seeing as previous encounters went with that theme, it seemed pointless to change his nickname from 'Rooster' now. The other girl giggled almost just like her sister had.

"Well… I'm not what you would call a 'cis-het', no. But by and large, I consider myself to be a straight woman with a wild side. Even just playing around here, I prefer men, even if having a woman to push around once in awhile is… satisfying. So despite being open to ‘lesbian experimentation’, what's the use in changing my label?"

"Well, I have a wild side myself, I'd say, but I'm not about to bend a guy over. But hey, each to their own."

As they waltzed away from the twins, she reached out and gave a light swat to the behind of a man who was on the ground, barking like a dog, and made for the stairs. Qrow's hintings that she would find something very interesting up there had slowly become irresistible to her. Already, he was grinning with glee as they headed further up. He couldn't wait. This time, the tables would turn on who'd get the big shock of the night, so he thought. It would be her who'd get a show. And more.

Speaking of shows… "Wonder if anyone's in and letting us watch?"

"Could be." Her smirk was mischievous, and she stood on tiptoe to look through the nearest window, exaggerating her pose very slightly - both for comedic effect, and so Qrow would get a nice view of the backs of her legs, which she knew he appreciated. "Hmm, nothing in this one…"

As usual, he took in the good view of his partner's form. Winter had a fantastic one, that couldn't be denied. It was the main thing that always had him questioning how he got lucky enough to have any chance with her in the first place. After a while, he nodded, pacing over to one of the other rooms that had the window clear for view.

"Oh, hello…"

"What, what is it?" she asked, bemused as her eyes slid to the side to watch his expression.

"I really didn't think guys would enjoy being screwed in the ass, but that girl's certainly showing him a good time." He continued to look at the display inside. Even though before he had insisted that was where he'd draw the line in Winter's dominance, the more he heard about it, the more he began to reconsider. Maybe.

And now he was looking through the glass and seeing just that. A much taller man, one more than capable of asserting himself and taking control of the situation, willingly on his knees to allow himself to be taken by his female partner, whom was wearing a strap-on. While he saw Blake and Sun about to do such things in their last venture to the club, seeing it actually happening was an experience.

"Is she, now?" Winter purred directly into his ear as her hand slid over his backside, coming to a stop beside him and looking through the window herself. "Ohhh, yes, I see. Looks like they've been doing this for a while; that's a pretty big cock she's wearing."

His muscles instinctively clenched when her hand was upon his rear, and he found himself flinching away. Even if seeing it was interesting, he wasn't about to suddenly tell Winter he was thinking about it. "Hey hey hey, remember that condition we had. My butt's a one-way street."

Chuckling, she let the hand fall away. "I was only teasing. You're so touchy sometimes." After casting another brief glance at the couple in the room, raising an eyebrow in silent approval, she turned to him fully. "Now then… what's this big surprise you have in store?"

"Looks like you're about to find out." Leading her to one of the middle rooms, he gave a brief knock to inform who was inside before holding the door open. "Ladies first."

"Thank you, kind sir." Then she walked inside with a little chuckle to herself… and her mouth opened for a brief moment before she laughed, "Well, this seems a little familiar!"

"It certainly is, Princess." Glynda Goodwitch was waiting for them the other side. This really was a repeat of their first time at the club - only this venture, it was Qrow who'd organised the whole thing with her help. That proved to be the bigger surprise here. "I know I said I wouldn't ever work with him under any circumstances, but… well, he's provided quite the plan."

"You know it." Closing the door behind them and switching the various lights, and shutting the visor, he turned back with a smirk. "I think the scene we got in mind will be… pretty satisfying to your wild side."

"Oh, it's already shaping up to be so far…" Turning back to Qrow, she allowed a slow, mischievous smirk to blossom across her face. "How long have you two been cooking this up together?"

"Since bowling last week." Once sure the room was secure, Qrow took a seat next to Glynda and patted her shoulder. "It was actually Snowmane who suggested it first, and I came up with what we’re gonna do."

Offering a small, sarcastic smile, Glynda slowly peeled the hand off her shoulder again, before looking back up to Winter. Seemed she wasn't entirely comfortable with Qrow just yet. "Yes thank you, Rooster. But I remember how you said it had been a long time since you two engaged in any ‘group activities’. And after your brief scare, I thought it would be in your interests to keep that to people you trust."

The mention of that session did lessen the smile on Winter's face, but she nodded at them. "It… would be appreciated, yes." She shifted from foot to foot, like someone appearing before a panel of judges about to be assessed for some reason or another. "So why- I mean, what did you two have in mind for tonight? Or don't I get to know?"

row was the one to chuckle at that, rising to his feet as he already started to unbutton his shirt. "What was it you said to me? ‘Ain’t very good with surprises’? Alright, here’s a hint: you're in the middle."

"In… the middle…" Her eyes slid back and forth between Glynda and Qrow, and then widened as she seemed to grasp the general idea. "Oh."

Rolling her eyes while Qrow put his shirt to one side, Glynda folded her arms. "If you choose, that is. He mainly said it for my benefit, so I don't have to be in contact with Qrow. However…" She already seemed to be cringing at the thought, hunching her shoulders as she saw him unzipping his pants. "I have allowed him to give me commands for the night."

Laughing, Qrow stopped his actions once he'd pulled them down, sitting in just his boxers. "Geez, you make me out to be some kinda Big Bad Wolf. I'm really not that bad, y'know."

"Yes, you are," Winter teased, smiling at their exchange. Now that they were graduating from bitter hatred to simple irritation, she couldn't be happier that things were moving along. "Now then, shall I assume a position? What's the safeword, the usual?"

"The safe word is Stables," Glynda informed her, standing instead as she reached to untie her robe. Once again, she was wearing her leather corset and nothing else. The same attire as she wore last time. But as she allowed her gown to drop to the ground, she smiled reassuringly. "And if you don't want to do a specific task but want to continue activities, that's fine, too. I know Qrow did plan on requesting something… more intimate than normal."

Nodding in agreement, Qrow sat back on the bench still, crossing his arms. "So whenever you wanna start play, go right ahead."

That made her blink, since she had been momentarily distracted by the near-nudity. "O-oh, I'm to begin? Well, I suppose I could…" Taking a very neutral stance, she turned so that she was facing both of them, setting them up into a triangle arrangement. Then she said clearly, "Begin play."

Smirking confidently, Qrow looked his pet up and down. This was going to be an interesting challenge, especially since one of the two subs wasn't to have contact with him. Rising to it, he gave his first command. "I think Snowmane deserves a little kiss or two, don't you?"

"Yes, Master." There wasn't even any nervousness; she'd done far worse than that. Stepping forward, she placed her hands on Glynda's shoulders and began to lean in.

And Glynda did the same. Wrapping her arms around Winter's waist, she allowed their lips to meet in the middle. Of course she was very aware a Dom like Qrow would want a show, something to entertain him rather than each other. So she wasted no time before letting her mouth open wider, and letting her tongue slip up against Winter's.

That caused the taller woman to shiver with mild surprise, but she did not draw away or cry foul. Her head tilted slightly as they began to enjoy each other's mouths mildly, giving their master the display he had been craving. She even allowed her hands to trail up to rest lightly on either side of Glynda's neck, knowing it would be that much more possessive-looking, and therefore more convincing.

It certainly worked. Qrow growled with delight as watched their display, which was clearly having an effect on him shown by the way he closed his legs together. Of course, kissing wasn't the only thing he was going to tell them to do. He allowed such movements to continue for a fair while, before speaking up again.

"Good… Now, how about giving her body a little love, too?"

Drawing away from the moistened lips of her companion-for-the-day, Winter said, "Yes, Master." Then she began to kiss along her shoulder, down her collarbone. Sighing contently, Glynda leant her head to one side to allow Winter more access, eyes fluttering closed as she watched each action. Winter's lips were certainly talented. She got to learn that exceptionally well in their last venture together. Maybe Qrow would allow that kindness again.

So far, he seemed more interested in watching her toy with her, and giving other commands. "A little lower."

Without even speaking, Winter kissed lower, gliding over the cleavage of her temporary playmate. It felt a bit too forward for her to tease her peaks without being instructed specifically. Still, she had a feeling more of that would be forthcoming.

There were more soft sighs as the kisses traced over her breasts. They didn't hit home, not just yet. But the sensation was still pleasant. She allowed her hand to fall into Winter's hair, softly petting as she fussed over her. This really was a change of pace! Not to be a sub, or a Dom, but a middle ground. It was both a relief and empowering to be given the privilege.

As Winter began to drift lower, her hands slid back to grip Glynda's firm cheeks, giving them a healthy squeeze as her lips grazed over her fabric-covered stomach. This wasn't all that low, but she most certainly wasn't going any lower if she was not commanded. This was Qrow’s scene, after all.

"Oooh…" Glynda couldn't help but purr out happily, leaning her head right back as she enjoyed the sensations. Her fingers continued to scratch at Winter’s scalp to encourage for more. It was instinctive, even if she wasn't commanded yet.

But that was about to change. "Very good," Qrow encouraged. "You're putting on quite the show. But it'd be a shame if poor Snowmane didn't have a finish by the time you're in the middle, wouldn't it?"

At those words, she turned slightly to gaze over her shoulder at him, hands still kneading into the firm cheeks. "What… do you suggest, Master?"

"I think those lips and tongue could play their part in that." It was the words Glynda wanted to hear. The words that would mean release from such toying – or so she thought. The next demand proved her wrong. "Give the ladies a li’l fun."

Winter's face was so low that Glynda couldn't see, but she smirked to herself. It's what she would have commanded; Qrow was really coming along. Still smiling, but with less wicked glee, she leaned up and wrapped her lips around the left peak, suckling gently.

"Oh!" Glynda found herself gasping. Finally, something more than just needless teasing! The hand in her hair gripped a small handful, anything to contain herself from getting too unruly. She didn't quite trust Qrow with seeing her utterly unhinged yet. But it was becoming more and more difficult to hold herself back, especially when the tongue was flicking over her sensitive peak. Its accompanying lips began to knead against her even more earnestly, pushing the skin inward and rolling it around on the semi-rough surfaces. One of Winter's hands also came around to Glynda's side, tracing its way up and down her hip. If Qrow wanted her to have the full treatment, then that's what she would have.

"I can see you want to," Qrow encouraged, watching each movement closely. Whilst he reached for his pants again to retrieve the few things he'd stored in his pockets, he nodded again. "Go ahead, make her moan."

Glynda knew what he was doing. Preparing for when Winter would be in the middle instead. But the lips on her were so enjoyable she didn't want them to stop! Already she was moaning quietly, not knowing if Winter had more to give.

But her chest would not be the only thing receiving attention. Winter took her master's command to mean the most obvious way, and drifted her hand in between her thighs, tracing up and down. If this wasn't what he meant, she would find out soon enough. Meanwhile, she was going to tease those thighs and that erect little nipple as hard as she might.

"Someone's eager," Qrow stated. It was visible what he'd taken from his pockets at last; a condom packet, and a small sample pack of lubricant. Whatever was planned for the evening, it seemed to require it. But to make sure she wasn't looking too long, he shrugged his shoulders. "I think Snowmane is, too. Perhaps you should stop teasing her and give her what she really wants."

"You mean…" 'Snowmane' didn't want to question it outright, but gestured for such a thing by moving her legs further apart, standing so Winter could get access.

"Exactly." Qrow encouraged, before clapping his hands. "Chop chop, ladies."

"Yes, Master," Winter said with a slightly throaty sound as she drew her mouth away so she could more properly look up at her charge. That the garment was crotchless was certainly a boon; it meant she could slide her fingers upward to home much, much sooner than if there was anything in the way.

Which she demonstrated. Immediately. And such an action was punctuated with a louder moan. Finally, Snowmane allowed herself to cut loose, freely moaning as the fingers graced her folds. Both of her hands fell to Winter's hair instead, gripping tightly to beg her to continue. Those fingers and that tongue would be the death of her.

A very satisfied grin spread across Winter's face as she quickened her strokes, parting the folds slightly with each pass. Qrow and Glynda had something in store for her afterward, and though she wasn't about to be careless or rush her fingering, neither would she dawdle. There wasn't much else Glynda could do other than bear the treatment. Each stroke was making her moan louder and louder, and the occasional brushing of her clit only made the waves of pleasure more intense.

And it was all so much for Qrow to see. Even if he'd not prepared himself yet, there was an obvious protrusion against his shorts that showed he could. But for now, the Dom would bide his time until they had finished.

As obvious as her fellow sub's enjoyment was, Winter decided to give her more. After all, she knew how much she had wanted to be dominated by Princess, to enjoy these things in the first place. Knew that it had bordered on "hero worship". She wasn't a big fan of what she was about to do, even though she didn't mind, but this time, she was going to give it her all.

"Master, shall I use my mouth?" There was no use in jumping ahead of herself, and it might not even be what Qrow wanted to see. Then again, it might.

As it turned out, it certainly was. "Absolutely."

Given the green light, Winter poured her heart and soul into the task. The hand that had been teasing Glynda slid back to cup one buttock again as she devoured her, drawing the fragile lips between her own, moaning and sounding grateful. It was a slight exaggeration, a show of theatrics, but in truth, she didn't mind the taste or sensation. Every time she went down on a woman, it seemed to get easier.

"Oooohhh…. Oh, Princess!" Glynda didn't think her moans could get any more unhinged! Yet the tongue lavishing her sex was bringing out a more primal side of her. She couldn't help herself, and started to pull Winter more firmly against her for more contact.

Hearing Glynda so completely given over to the moment - ecstatic, even - was all the "job satisfaction" that Winter required. And she knew she herself was getting turned on. It wasn't so much that it was Glynda as that she was pleasuring another person… but it being a woman, and someone she did see outside of the club, helped to heighten the taboo. Which also made her wetter, and hungrier for more.

Unable to help herself, Glynda pushed her hips more firmly against Winter's mouth, continuing to growl and purr while the actions brought her to her end. Already she could feel her legs starting to quiver as she was so close, so very close!

Qrow could tell both those things. He could see that Glynda was about to finish, and that Winter was growing more and more needy. Knowing she would want to be taken care of as soon as they were done, he unbuttoned his boxers to start to get ready. But before he untucked the length from them, he gave the command.

"Go on, Princess, finish Snowmane off."

All Winter did was nod to show her understanding before she began lapping at Glynda harder than ever, making sure to attack her clit more than she had been up until that point. She could feel how ready she was, scent it on the air. Wouldn't take much more doing before she was sent crashing through into a blinding finish.

"AAAAHH!" A much louder yell from Glynda later, and she was done for. She could feel her body quivering all over, toes curling as she leant forward, feeling her stomach tightening as the electric waves of pleasure flowed through her. Twice now that tongue had brought her to an end. And twice, it was excellent.

By the time she had released Winter's hair to let her go, Qrow was finished with “set up”. He sat back on the bench with his now sheathed member poking out of his boxers. The hope was that it would put Glynda at ease if he only exposed the needed part, but he knew the sight of it would entice Winter, as well. But there was still an unused packet, one that he held up.

"Good job, Princess. But now you need to get yourself ready."

There were a few seconds before Winter could respond. These were spent leaving a few final licks, which then turned to kisses. Glynda might not have been her lover or romantic partner, but she was a person who she had just shared an intimate moment with; her affection and consideration were genuine. Privately, she knew that there would be more sessions with her in the future, even if she still counted Qrow as her "main playmate."

Then at last, she left a final, brief kiss on her clit and turned around to breathe, "Ready for what, Master?"

"For the main event." It was quite obvious that what he was holding was a lubricant sample pack. But they hadn't taken any toys with them. Nor had Glynda. That could only leave one possible alternative for what it was for.

Finally, her eyes focused on the lube and her lips formed a tiny "oh". Her heart beat faster as she realized what he intended to do, and she smiled bashfully at him. "Whatever Master desires… is what he gets."

"Good." However, he then handed the packet outward not in Winter's direction, but in Glynda's instead. "Snowmane, you can take care of this, right?"

"M-me?!" This seemed to have not been discussed. But from the smirk on his face, she could tell he was serious. It may not have been spoken of, but it wasn't an offer she was about to pass up, especially not after the fantastic orgasm Winter had granted her. Nodding, she took the small packet from him, bowing her head. "Of course, Rooster."

"Good girl." Looking back to Winter, he half closed his eyes. "And maybe you can fuss over me while she prepares you for the big finish."

But Winter was also recovering from the surprise. She wasn't necessarily opposed, but she wasn't used to someone she normally Dommed being allowed to take such liberties with that particular area. Already, she could feel it tingling with anticipation - and no one had even touched her there yet!

"Alright," she said as she turned around and began to kneel in front of Qrow. "If… I get on all fours like this…" She demonstrated. "Will you have enough access that way, Snowmane?"

Kneeling behind her, she placed a hand on one of her buttocks, giving a rather firm squeeze a moment just to make a demonstration of her own. "More than enough, Princess."

Glancing at Qrow, she saw he was looking very smug and in charge - as a good Dom should. Over her shoulder, Glynda looked very business-like. She wanted to ask if she was really okay touching that, but there had been no safeword, and therefore she must have been. Mustn't she?

Considering Glynda had let her go to rip the top of the small sachet open, she had to be. Holding it right above the area, she squeezed a small amount between the cheeks. As if the cold sensation of lube hadn't been enough to make Winter shiver, she did so even more with an accompanying moan when she felt a fingertip helping to spread the substance where it needed to go. If there wasn't the promise of a fat cock to work its way in there, she might have simply asked Glynda to keep going as she was. It felt quite nice.

Squeezing the rest right against the small ring of muscles, and her fingers, she began to circle it gradually. Over time, she began to head inward, pushing against the skin rather firmly. All of this in her best efforts to prepare her.

Talking of which, Qrow was more than happy to give a slow pump every so often to keep his cock to its full length. But the moans coming from his sub were doing plenty, as well. Once at least somewhat used to the finger, even though she was loving every second, Winter leaned forward and began to nuzzle the inside of Qrow's thigh, up toward the top of his trousers. If they weren't in the way, she would have gone to work on his weighted sack immediately. For some reason, she liked the idea of him stroking himself while she merely toyed with what hung below.

The finger began pressing in more firmly, until at last, Glynda felt the muscle starting to allow her inside. Winter was so tight! No wonder this process always took a while, when she was to play with various toys in that area. But it was her duty to get it ready for something bigger – something that Qrow was continuing to stroke, even through the sheath. He tried not to grasp too hard so as to keep the lubricant on there, but enough so he could enjoy Winter's temporary fussing, and be ready for when she took her seat.

By that point, Winter was gasping at the intrusion as she had reached his shaft, and gave it a brief kiss before she had to stop and recover. Glynda's finger was inside her ass. It was incredible that it was happening, but it was also quite satisfying. Once she had adjusted enough to keep going, her hand drifted up to grip the length standing at attention in front of her face.

"Let Princess do that for you, Master."

"Oh, you don't have to." He placed his hand atop hers, stopping it from moving more. Instead, he looked between her and Glynda, giving a small nod. "I think you're ready now, aren't you?"

"Yes," she breathed eagerly against him. "Ready for this… or for more of Glynda." The last was mostly for the other woman's benefit, to tease her slightly. She knew what they intended to do.

"I suppose I should take my position, then." Pulling her finger back out again, she backed away from Winter's rear end to give her the space to move. Once she did so, Qrow immediately patted his legs, offering up his lap as a seat for Winter.

"Have a seat. And don't worry, you'll get more from Glynda."

"I can't wait, Master," she told him honestly. She really couldn't; her curiosity nearly burned her insides!

Standing, she turned to face Glynda, and as she began to back up, she mouthed, "Thank you" and gave her a private thumbs up. There had been no direct order not to praise the woman for a job well done. Glynda smiled back at her, remaining in place as she watched Winter stand herself in front of Qrow. Her job was to wait until commanded, but she was going to enjoy the view up until then.

A pair of hands placed themselves onto Winter's hips, guiding her back toward her seat. "Then show me."

So Winter did show him. She sat a little further back, gliding her wetness up and down along the length, mingling the lube with her own juices. Even though that wasn't its end destination this time, she didn't want him to forget that she ached for him to take her the usual way, as well.

"Yeah that's it,” he encouraged, softly stroking up and down her sides as she worked him more and more. “A little extra lube never hurts.” Winter really was putting her all into this. Whether or not it was because they had an audience or not, he couldn’t be sure, but it didn't matter.

Speaking of which… "Snowmane, what do you think? Still wanna share?"

"Oh, definitely." Glynda smiled. She didn't know if she could just sit back while Qrow had all the fun, even if he hadn’t asked. Winter was just too tempting.

"What are we sharing, Master?" Winter felt almost ready to glide forward and position herself to be entered, but not quite yet. Besides, Qrow hadn't commanded it.

"You, of course." Allowing one of his hands to leave her hip, he reached in front to hold his member upright. He could sense her readiness, that she wanted to be finished after all this torment and these demands. And soon that would come.

"So, what are you waiting for? Whenever you’re ready, Princess."

That was the signal. Sliding forward, she gestured for Glynda to bend a little closer, which she did. Then she placed her hands on the other woman's shoulders, shifted forward, and positioned herself directly above the rod on which she was about to impale herself.

"Oh, you look excellent, Highness," Glynda whispered, so near where the action was going to be. She was about to have the best view in the house, even if it did involve Qrow. She could get past that, considering Winter was right there.

And slowly, Qrow eased her down onto him with one hand, holding his member upright with the other. Aligning the entrance with his member, he felt the head pushing up against the muscle, where he continued to push her down onto him.

"Ohhhhh," Winter groaned as she sank down onto it, a millimeter at a time. It wasn't going in, not quite yet; he'd have to work before that was possible without any tearing. But he was working, and she was definitely doing her best to assist. Pressing kiss after kiss against Winter's thighs, Glynda leant in so she was closer to the action. Closer to her main goal. She wasn't commanded to go in just yet, but anything she could do to help was welcomed by Qrow – who was gently moving his member around to loosen her more, continuing as she headed further down. And eventually, he felt her give, head slipping inside.

"A-AHHH! Oh, God!" How big was he? Had he always been that big when they were engaged in other activities, or was this the product of some pills or other?!

Nothing special. It was purely down to the first time using this entrance in quite some time – and with a new partner. He continued to ease her downward, moving the hand to her other hip to keep a decent amount of control of her speed. He wasn't about to rush, not when Winter was begging for it. He couldn't let his pet win that easily.

And Glynda was helping all the way, continuing to leave kisses closer and closer to her goal. She couldn't help but look upward toward her, checking for her reaction. But Winter seemed to be way too focused on what was going on at the back door to worry about the front. It was so huge, and sliding deeper inside of her with every passing moment! But too slow - far too slow. Now that she had been stretched to the proper width to admit him, there was no sense in delaying the inevitable…

Except to torture her. Qrow was in control, and he wanted to wind her up a little longer. Well, perhaps she could repay the favour. Making sure it wouldn't shock Glynda too much, she waited until the head between her thighs was still for a moment, then began to shift herself from side to side. Such an action did make one of her kisses land further inward than anticipated, onto the lips of her sex itself.

"So that's how you wanna play, huh?" That wasn't what Qrow asked for, and she knew for a fact he wouldn't let her get away with it. Grasping her hips even tighter than before, Qrow made sure she was in the best position, before lifting himself upward to push himself inside with a much faster pace. If she was so desperate she needed him to speed up, he would make it much rougher to torment her another way.

"N-no, Master, I didn't intend f-for- OHHHHHH, oh shit! NNHH!" That was it. Now he was all the way inside of her, widening her resistant little opening as far as it would go. It felt incredible! He was about as big as any of her toys - and she had some very sizable examples, indeed.

"Maybe you didn't." The words were punctuated as he started to ease himself back out, grasping a handful of her hair to pull her head back a moment. Leaning up toward her ear, he growled, "But it's what you're getting now."

A thrill of hot, prickling shame shot through her at the rough treatment. That was what she had been after. Sick and twisted as it was, being treated like a lesser being was exquisite to her. And she wanted more. So she only responded with a docile, "Y-yes, Master!"

This time, he didn't stop. Over and over, he glided back and forth inside her ass, punishing her tight little hole with everything he had in him. She was to be used until he was satisfied. Until they both were. Which brought him to think about his other pet.

"I think you can start chowing down now."

"O-oh…" Still blushing from the sight of her previous Dom being taken, Glynda did as she was told. Now that she was given the command, she headed on, letting her tongue trail between Winter's lips.

The thighs around Glynda's head twitched immediately upon the tongue coming into contact, and her squeals of delight only increased in pitch. They really were aiming to drive her mad, weren't they? It wouldn't take much more, all in all; she was already dripping wet, as Glynda could definitely see for herself. And if she cared to look a little lower… there was quite a show going on. It only depended on it if was a show Glynda wanted to see.

It was a show that she would miss out on. But the effect of it was music to her ears. She could hear that their combined efforts were driving her to her limit, that both of them were tormenting her body from either side. With that knowledge in mind, Glynda traced a circle around her clit with her tongue, before returning to lapping the wetness while Qrow persevered with the hard pumping, continuing to hold her by the hip and the hair. He couldn't suppress his own moans anymore either, and grunted in unison with each thrust.

Little by little, her thighs began to ease apart to allow both of her current lovers to do their best… or worst, as the case may have been. The delightful attention to her clit was almost overpowering, even without what was going on between her cheeks! They both seemed to have ample practice at what they were doing, and she was thrilled to death with that being the case.

"How is it, Princess?" Qrow demanded further, intending to prompt further little sounds from his sub as the two of them continued to punish her body. "Tell us how it feels."

"It f-feels… like my ass is being drilled b-by a baseball b-bat!" she groaned out, thighs as far apart as they could go now. "And like my cunt is… being worshiped by a goddess!"

Oh. Snowmane liked hearing that. As much as she was used to the chastising words and insults, hearing the praise, though surprising, was an unexpected but very welcome pleasure. One that spurred her on to work harder. Once more, she circled the woman's clit, drawing a hand inward to split her lips open. Anything for her partner now.

"You're goddamn right," the Rooster managed to pant as he tugged Winter’s hair harder. "And we're just gonna keep on going."

By God, how good it all was! Where was this treatment all her life? No one other than Qrow had managed to make her feel both dominated and worshiped at the same time. It should not have been possible! Nevertheless, she was determined to enjoy every last second of this precious gift gracing her two entrances.

Already he could feel himself getting close. And why not? Winter was so tight around his thick length that it made it impossible to hold out for longer than needed. But he was determined to take her with him. Pulling her hair again, he growled into her ear, "Then show me, little cumslut; show me how much you love me inside your ass!"

Winter could think of no better way to show him than to shift her hips up and down slightly as he pounded up into her. It was a delicate balancing act; if she moved too much, Glynda wouldn't be able to handle her duties with all the movement. But she persevered. Everything felt far too good to give up, or even give a lackluster performance.

Sadly, his goal to get her finished whilst he did couldn't be done. He found her added efforts to force more of herself against him had finished him off. He quivered against her backside, and could feel himself throbbing inside her rear – spilling all his precious seed. Therefore, it was up to Glynda to finish the job. Grabbing Winter's thighs to pull herself more firmly against her, she circled her clit over and over again relentlessly, pressing her lips firmly against Winter's sex as her fingers fluttered inside. It was all she could do in that attempt to make her feel the greatest she had in a long time.

And it worked. Eventually, between the knowledge that Qrow had just filled his latex covering with the evidence of how good her ass felt, and Glynda genuflecting at the altar of her throbbing sex, Winter Schnee erupted into a mind-warping orgasm the likes of which she had never felt before. It was glorious, and she found herself wishing that the aftershocks causing her to twitch and writhe would never end.

Still coming down from his own climax, Qrow flopped back onto the bench. Finally he let go of her hair; simply panting for breath a moment whilst they all recovered. He never moved himself out of her rear, only kept himself in place for a moment while she too regained her breath. Success. They had done exactly what they set out to do and he had zero complaints whatsoever.

[iamconstantine]

RWBY CHAPTER 12: BLACK & WHITE (I SUCK AT COMMITMENT)

* Okay so we are leaping RIGHT into Sun and Blake talking together * Sun actually kinda-sorta sounds like Jaune with a deeper voice tbh but I’m sure it’s not the same VA * I was going to make a joke about Blake suspiciously sipping her cup while Sun smack talks the White Fang but then she actually did it * And there it is * I just noticed that Sun’s hair is yellow and his eyes are dark while Blake’s eyes are yellow and her hair is dark. Interesting contrast. * (Insert LOST flashback woosh) * YEEEESSS Different animation style! * The White Fang originally being a sort of “peace group” is actually way more compelling than just an all-out terrorist group. It’s a repeating cycle of hate of one side against the other. The things they do are way, way overkill, of course, but it’s also a reminder that things aren’t always b-- * I just realized why this episode is called “Black and White.” * ._. * Lil kitten Blake. Baby. * “And the New Leader’s first decree was that the old symbol wasn’t edgy enough, so we gave the animal fangs and claw marks and we made it red and people took us more seriously” * The image of the signs becoming weapons was very nice * The portrayal of prejudice and response and related topics are presented pretty realistically in the show, and honestly, credit to them for not doing some weird sugary stuff with it. Usually I see this kind of stuff as like “The other group had their fewings hurt so they hurt peopwe too but that’s not okay uwu” but here it’s just like “Yeah man we started being violent instead of peaceful and people started listening which was good but they were also afraid of us which is bad” * Blake’s explanation of why she left gives newer context to her fight with Weiss. It isn’t just that she has to once again experienced hatred just because she’s a Faunus, and it isn’t just that she has to keep her mouth shut about who she is out of fear. Blake left the White Fang because she hated how violent they were becoming, but after doing the right thing, she once again has to deal with discrimination just for being...Blake * No Sun she hasn’t told anyone but I think they know * Also HOW did Sun know she was a Faunus? Did I miss something? * The way Ruby hisses “Ugh...Weiss” was so acidic like she is 110% done with Weiss’ crap * Yang is trying to hard to be peacekeeper poor thing * Penny returns and everyone is scared * I’m assuming that either A) Penny actually SAW Blake’s ears, or B) Penny saw the bow and just said “yeah there some ears under there” which would kind of explain how Sun knew but not really * I didn’t hear what Ruby said at first but then I put on subtitles and “She does like tuna a lot” almost made me WHEEZE. Ruby’s VA has a really good grasp on comedic delivery * Ruby was like “fam?” but Yang and Weiss were like “peace” * Penny noting on how windy it is is funny but honestly is no one going to comment on the tumbleweeds? * Sun and Blake immediately teaming up is kind of heartwarming; I imagine Blake hasn’t met another Faunus who she could be open with in a while * That said isn’t Sun supposed to be hiding from police? Aren’t they just wandering around? * I still don’t side with Weiss but her line about how the innocent don’t run does remind me that she believes Blake is some kind of criminal. Yes, Weiss has a definite prejudice against Faunus people, but again, I think she’s been ingrained with the lie that all of them are dangerous terrorits * “Is she a MAN?” girl what * Ruby’s outlook on the situation makes a lot of sense. She’s not mad at Blake, not at all, and she’s definitely against Weiss in the argument. That said, she doesn’t know what to make of Blake just running off. I’m sure as the team leader she expects everyone to trust each other on top of being friends, so learning that Blake doesn’t trust her enough to talk to her must her. Of course, Blake has every reason in the world to keep her secret, but I get where Ruby is coming from * I admire Blake and Sun deciding to investigate but what is there plan there’s only two of them * I was fully expecting Sun to respond to Blake with some kind of cheesy pick-up line but him just clapping back with “Weren’t you in a cult or something?” honestly surprised and pleased me * Also Blake’s pout * Oh that animation isn’t...good...not bad, just...not good... * Speaking of animation I’m noticing a kind of recurring thing where characters are technically “walking” but they’re also sliding at the same time. I really, REALLY am not trying to nitpick but it is noticeable. * Speaking off the detail of Sun’s hair, his necklace, and his abs are all pretty good. Definitely a great character design * “See I told you our new logo was cool and edgy” “man u right” * I know I just commented on the whole slide-walk think but at least a few seconds ago it was kind of hidden by the ramp just now it was all up in my face * He’s baaaaaack * So is Blake implying that Torchwick might actually be a Faunus, or is something else amiss? * On the one hand I know Blake can take on countless robots and a giant bird monster but on the other hand I’m with Sun. What is she doing? * Was Torchwick about to drop the f bomb? * Blake talking to the WF as one of them is pretty clever * Torchwick’s VA is doing a good job but he still has that teeth-talk problem * I’m sorry did this guy just blast an actual star at her? * This once again brings me to my upcoming study: “RWBY: Everything is Gun” * Sun’s attack on Torchwick was animated very well, a definite step up from last episode where he seemed too restrained * Torchwick just spoke my thoughts. I do admire everyone’s bravery but come on. The bad guys WILL have backup. * Holy CRAAAAP Sun beating all the WFs with his bo staff is AWESOME and it is animated AMAZINGLY * On top of that Blake’s...I don’t know, “teleport” effect is really cool to look at * What I appreciate mostly about the fights in this show is that even though it’s all very energetic and fast-paced you can keep up with what’s happening. It’s not just trying to look “fight-ish”, it’s real and you can follow every movement * Sun’s bo staff splitting into nunchuks are really cool I wonder if it’s also a--

* There it is. * I also like that the fights make use of the environments * I felt like Torchwick laughing was a little too on the nose but the subtitles saying (evil laugh) just confirms it * Penny is not mad muffin * Let me guess Penny’s about to do a murder * Excuse me

* OH YEEEEAAAAH PENNY’S OFF THE CHAIN * SHE MOWING THESE GUYS DOWN LIKE GRASS * OH * MY GOSH * How is Ruby just mildly pleased and not losing her mind right now * Is Penny about to do a Captain America? * Ruby your question is legitimate but how is that your first one? * Bout time the police showed up * Okay. Moment of truth. How is Weiss going to handle this? * Gooooood. Good girl. * At the same time I appreciate (?) that Weiss almost slipped up on calling Sun something there. She’s going to turn over a leaf to accept Blake as a teammate but that doesn’t mean she’s cured, and she’s still super suspicious of Sun because, well, he is technically a criminal * Is Penny?? A criminal too? * “Hey Ozpin what cha doing” “Oh you know stalking students again; not getting involved or helping in any way” * Oh!! Qrow!! Ruby’s uncle!! * And so the season concludes! * Overall? Not bad. Did it blow my mind? Well, not necessarily. Am I impressed? Absolutely! * I still stand by what I said before about the pacing being a bit off for this first volume. * I do like Jaune. I like his arc and his relationship with Pyrrha and his struggle to be a leader. At the same time, the fact that he gets an arc before Yang or Blake, despite both of them being two of the titular characters, doesn’t feel right. If Weiss and Blake’s storyline had been running alongside it, I think that would have paced things better. Giving Jaune focus without stealing the spotlight from the leads. * Jaune’s arc also has the side effect of bringing things to a halt. It was an enjoyable arc, but following Ruby and Weiss dealing with their feelings on their new team, it more or less feels like a sudden roadblock than anything else. The fact that it really only includes Jaune, Pyrrha, and Cardin (who I wonder will show up again, creepy little sh*t) and not Ren or Nora is something I’ll get to in a second. * Yang herself didn’t get much attention at all, which is very disappointing to me. I don’t know very much about her other than that she’s a thrillseeker, a peacekeeper, and is just nice in general (as long as she’s not angry). I feel like she kind of got robbed here. * I also still believe that the lack of background characters, though explainable and really not that big a deal, is not a “good” thing. To me, it makes Beacon feel really, really empty, not the giant of a school it really is. Cardin’s team were shown, thankfully, but even then their designs are pretty bland and suffer from “Guess Who’s the Main Character?” syndrome * The animation has some highs and some lows, and I’m going to take a guess that most focus was given to the fights, which I will say again look absolutely fantastic. I completely admire the animation team’s work and direction, while at the same time I think other animations feel a bit rough and incomplete. It’s nothing that absolutely breaks my immersion, but there are times when it seems something is supposed to have a lot of energy and instead is too rigid or even too “smooth”, i.e. no sense of gravity or weight. * The designs of every character are always very nice to see--and I would like to once again reaffirm my opinion that character designs don’t always have to be realistically practical and “grounded”. I’d much rather Ruby be wearing see Yang wearing kerchiefs and short shorts than have her be in a completely unnotable outfit with muted colors. Each design also serves the character well. Even Jaune’s very simplistic design highlights how he doesn’t quite fit in at Beacon, and is just “average” compared to everyone else. * The VAs all did very well, even if I did feel at times that they were holding back. * Ren and Nora also did not get very much attention and more or less just feel like filler on Jaune’s team for now. Not absolutely boring, but they don’t nearly play as much of a part as everyone else. I haven’t even seen Jaune interact with either of them that much, which lessens the impact of his struggle to be their leader. * The backgrounds are a bit hit-and-miss at times. Beacon itself looks amazing and grandious, a fairytale castle mixed with a bit of a futuristic edge. Other times, the backgrounds are flat and textureless and don’t feel very real. * I really do wish the first season was able to do episodes of “average episode length” (18~ minutes), as opposed to snippets that could range from 3 to 15 minutes. Even though I felt that “The Stray” ended in a very nice place and set up the next episode well, the season finale doesn’t really feel like a season finale. It just feels like the ending of a typical episode. The only thing that tipped me off that it was a finale was the longer credits. * This is on top of the fact that a few of the episodes were very short and really only progressed one or two things. * I still don’t quite get Auras or what the point of them is. This is the first season, of course, but thus far I really can’t tell how Auras change anything about fighting. I guess it does kind of explain why everyone isn’t bleeding and bruised by the end of every fight, but still. Right now, it feels that if Pyrrha’s explanation of what an Aura is was snipped out, I wouldn’t notice a difference. * Just speaking broadly, even though I think RWBY has a lot of things going for it--design, fight animations, character writing, etc--they’re kind of like a bunch of different candies all jumbled into the same bowl. On their own, they’re good and I can appreciate them. Together, stuffed into the same season in uneven episode lengths, they don’t really work all that well together. * Anyhoodle I’ll be starting season 2 soon and I look forward to it.

[lizardrosen]

Hamlet at the Chicago Shakespeare Theater

This was a really good production, that I’ve been looking forward to for six months, and it really lived up to the wait! I took two and a half pages of notes of things I remembered or loved, which I’ll try to condense, but regardless, some of this is ending up under a cut.

Characters

Maurice Jones was an incredible Hamlet, really broken up about his father, but so overcome with grief that he had to push that aside for rage at his mother’s infidelity because it was an easier emotion to handle. He was very physically aggressive to other characters, and this performance really illustrated that Hamlet isn’t indecisive because he can’t decide to do anything; he’s indecisive because he acts on each decision right away but doesn’t commit to any of them.

Horatio was a pillar of stability that everyone turned to for a sense of normalcy. Soft-spoken but with his trademark wry humor, he seemed to position himself as a quiet observer from the very beginning, almost like he’d come right from Hamlet’s directive at the end and had to see how things fell out. But he and Hamlet really didn’t seem to be dating, it’s more that Horatio is there for everyone.

Ophelia and Laertes had a really good sibling dynamic, and made fun of their father wonderfully! They physically deflated when he started giving advice, and then imitated his motions exactly when he got to “This above all...” because they’d heard it so often.

Ophelia was a lot of fun, and felt like someone growing out of girlhood into adulthood -- in her first scene she’s playing with a toy boat, and by the end she’s sharp and jaded, (almost the opposite of Hamlet, in that she’s incredibly angry at her circumstances, but that keeps being overwhelmed by grief)

Laertes was really good! In the first act he really played up the “puffed and reckless libertine” aspect, doing anything that was fun for him. But when he got back he was furious of course, but also more thoughtful and willing to listen to reasoned arguments (even if they were given by a gross snake like Claudius, UGH). A very neat way to handle his sense of honor!

Polonius was sincere and a real character trying to help, not a cardboard cutout who says things that don’t make sense so we can laugh at him. And I mean, other characters were making fun of him, but because he felt so real you had to feel bad for him. Sometimes he was almost self aware but then shrugged it off and kept talking

Rosencrantz & Guildenstern had almost an opposite relationship dynamic from how it is in the Stoppard play, which made me laugh, but they were both very good. But Guildenstern seemed shy and unsure, and tried to fit in with the court customs, while Rosencrantz took charge like “don’t worry, baby chick, I’ll take you under my wing”  and then strode forward in the wrong direction. Someone help them, they’re Trying Their Best.

Gertrude and Claudius were really handsy with each other, always sneaking off to kiss, and it’s like they wanted Hamlet to get pissed and vengeful. Claudius stepped very easily into his new position and just acted like it wasn’t a big deal, which possibly dazzled his courtiers into agreeing. I don’t think Gertrude knew he’d murdered Papa Hamlet at first, but became suspicious and watchful after the closet scene. By the time she drank the poisoned goblet she absolutely knew it would kill her

The Players were a queer punk Scandinavian acting troupe, but I love and value all of them, especially the petite tumblr who shyly handed Hamlet a rose just before the Murder of Gonzago started

The Player King came back as the second gravedigger, so he didn’t get to banter with Hamlet. But the comedic timing was perfect in that scene!

Stage and Set

The lighting and music both worked very well, subtly tying into each scene.

The ghost was a black and white video projected onto the back wall, with a lot of smoke in between, so it was even more unsettling and disorienting, and the ghosts voice moved around the house to come from different speakers so you never knew where he was going to be next.

The thrust stage could have been used more effectively, but I’ve seen that kind of stage used really badly and it wasn’t that.

Cool wall hangings with fancy patterning - they were just white with embroidery or something, but with different colored lights shining on them from the top they’d change colors all the way down, and that worked with each scene. So Claudius’s pomp and circumstance was usually orange, Ophelia’s scenes usually got blue, and I didn’t pick up on all the color choices but I felt them

When Polonius dies he pulls one of the curtains down on top of him, and when Claudius dies all the rest fall at once, and the lighting changes from loud and dramatic to something plainer and free of artifice, until it condenses to a white (and very slightly blue) light centered on Hamlet and Horatio

Plot Etc.

Started with Hamlet at his father’s grave, singing until he was too overcome with weeping, and then Claudius and Gertrude ran onstage giggling and kissing, and Hamlet glared at them until he stormed off the stage.

Scene two was a coronation gala and Hamlet, in a black hoodie shouldered between Claudius and Gertrude’s linked hands and headed straight for the snacks table

The Ophelia + Laertes + Polonius scene opens with Ophelia running onstage holding a long blue cloth that trailed behind her like a river, which divided the stage diagonally through the whole scene - a visual marker of how far characters actually are from each other, and where they come together

After the nunnery scene Claudius and Polonius just ignore Ophelia when she’s sobbing on the ground! She was just a tool for them to use and then they stopped paying attention, no wonder she “went mad”! Polonius says “How now, Ophelia” and then doesn’t wait for an answer, just immediately says “You need not tell us what Hamlet said” and is already turning back to Claudius. That said, I think he really does care about his daughter, but tends to reflect the worst of the people around him.

Act One ended at “Bring me some light!” which I was not at all prepared for, but it worked really well because the play’s answer was a sudden blackout and then a slow return to house lights. And then Claudius repeats the line at the top of Act Two and the tableau jumps into startled action

Hamlet was very rough with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, and it was just awful (but in a good way). He forces the recorder into Guildenstern’s mouth and sort of pushes him down so he has to bend his knees. It was a clear power play and made everyone Very Uncomfortable. Horatio and Rosencrantz finally pull them apart and Ros helps Guil collect himself, while Horatio sort of tries to comfort Hamlet while also clearly thinking that he’s gone Too Far.

Later when he calls Rosencrantz a sponge he squeezes him around the midsection from behind to hold him still before he suckerpunches him in the gut and it just looks very painful and bad. Besides the fact that he just killed a man, I think that’s what gets Rosencrantz running the fuck away.

The way Hamlet drags Gertrude around in the closet scene mirrors the way he drags Ophelia in the nunnery scene, owwww

The interview with the director in the playbill says that Polonius’s death is the moment the play becomes a tragedy, and you can feel everything draw in and get darker at that point, so good job from all the designers to make that happen!

Buuuut, she also said that “When the men in her life leave her, she implodes in on herself. There’s no other way for that story to end, not for someone as fragile as Ophelia, which I DON’T like. It really showed in how she was played, but the actress did a really good job in that Way Ophelia Is Usually Played. I just want to see a different kind of Ophelia once in a while!

They kept the scene where Hamlet talks with the Norwegian Captain about the territory in Poland!

When Hamlet is putting on an antic disposition he wears his mother’s dressing gown, and in Ophelia’s scenes she wears the shirt her dead father was stabbed in (who gave it to her tho?)

I found it VERY interesting who got which flowers, because it wasn’t at all what I usually see! Gertrude got rosemary, fennel and columbine; Laertes got pansies; Claudius got rue; and Horatio got a daisy.

When Ophelia breaks down about the withered violets she and Laertes end up full on SOBBING together for their father, which was heartrending and probably very good for both of them

Claudius and Laertes make their sinister plans in a sauna in the same trapdoor hole where Ophelia’s grave is in the next scene, and they’re still there when they hear of her death

The priest refused to sprinkle the holy water over the grave at the end of the service, and he just threw the container on the ground and strode away, so the gravediggers did that part instead, which was such a good moment!

Horatio was appropriately horrified at Hamlet switching the letters, and Hamlet was cavalier about it, but he showed enough emotional maturity in that scene overall that you could tell he wasn’t entirely unaffected either.

Definitely not my favorite Osric - for one thing, they left out the Hat bit. I usually read him as a very young man trying really hard to fit into the politicking of Elsinore and agreeing with Hamlet because he feels he has to, and to have him older and well established makes it harder for Hamlet and Horatio to mock, and you feel less bad for him in general. So I guess in that sense it's good that they left out the Hat scene.

When Hamlet is distracted by Gertrude collapsing, Laertes gets in a nasty little cut on the back of the leg, just a frustrated flick of his sword, and then Hamlet retaliates with the same kind of thing — surprising but effective!

Laertes got his full and proper death! YAY! It is so, so, important to me that his life doesn’t end on “The king, the king’s to blame” because he has never been about revenge as much as reparation. They have to forgive each other or the play doesn’t work right!

Horatio wasn’t so much mourning a boyfriend as he was mourning A Life because all lives are precious to him, and he was always there for everyone.

There was gorgeous almost choral music as he holds Hamlet, and a white (blue-ish) light centers on the two of them as Hamlet shakes from the poison.

And yet, even though the beats were clearly spelling out that they were setting up the final image of the play I was shocked that it ended with “flights of angels” and not the clamor of Fortinbras and court intrigue starting up all over again. I think the reason I was so surprised by what is actually a pretty typical ending point is that they did include the bit with the Norwegian captain, and the gravedigger talking about the day Papa Hamlet defeated Papa Fortinbras, so it seemed obvious to me that there would be a continuation of that.

Overall, I really loved this production, even if there were some things I would have done differently!

[pingou7]

A car, two cops and a stardust — a RebelCaptain road trip fic

by @pingou7 pingou  for @thestarbirdfromtheashesStarbird

(aka the Road trip fic Diego Luna’s filmography made me write)

Read and enjoy, and please consider leaving me a few words.

Summary:

As the dusty roads criss under Kes Dameron’s old car, Cassian Andor lets the wind mess with his hair through the open window. Dust, sunshine, laughter, its easy to recapture the taste of days long gone.

(…)

At a gas station near Corpus Chirsti, when they climb back after taking a piss, both jump out of their skins as a random brunette, eyes thunderous, hisses dangerously from the backseat:

“Just pretend I’m not here.”

Update: Part 8 is published !

This part is dedicated to the ever kind @imsfire2 because she provided inspiration and support.

Read more on AO3 (or under the cut)

Part 8: Fresnillo, Zacatecas, Day 6.

Walking back, they both try to keep their eyes focused on the path, trying their best to ignore the shift occurring between them. Against her own volition however, several times Jyn catches his eyes slipping to the right, quickly taking a look at her.

She feels like a teenager and she’s sure that somewhere Saw is frowning at her, like that one time when he realized she had a hickey on her neck. She’d been what, fourteen? So far, her interactions with Cassian have been much more tame, but the fact that Kes chose to retreat back early left them unbalanced, in uncharted territory.

She knows Gerrera would be disappointed in her if he knew that she let herself have fun while on the run. Not only she has let herself enjoy the beat and Cassian’s hold, but his chuckle too and his arm still nesting under hers as he guides her back in the busy streets of Fresnillo. She should pry his arm away but she doesn’t want to.

At Saba's house, Kes has been waiting for them, or at least they still find him nursing his drink under the arbor. Their host is already snoring in his hammock and doesn’t stir at all. What an odd duck their friend is, not at all the kind of acquaintance she would picture the two cops to have!

She envies other people’s easiness, it’s been five days since she’d last seen Bodhi, since she has run out of her flat, and while she has slept, she had not rested since. She called Baze before dinner, but as it went straight to voicemail, she didn’t leave a message. No trace back to Mexico just in case.

Kes seems surprised to see them, his gaze plainly showing he had somehow expected Cassian and her to make a beeline for the closest bed. Truthfully, Jyn’s blood is quite heated still, but it’s a gentle warmth, not the scorching blaze his friend had lit earlier this evening. However tempting it would be to discover if Cassian’s prowess included more intimate activities than dancing, she could not permit it.

Come morning they would be back to a runaway and two cops traveling together due to unlikely circumstances. Nothing more. And okay they’re amazingly friendly but while she is willing to risk her safety, she will not yield to the supposed attraction she feels for Captain Andor. Nothing good will come of it, she can let it become enjoyable, perhaps, but never distracting.

“Jyn, won’t you take a seat?” Cassian asks right on point, likely realizing she has zoned out.

“Enjoy yourself, did you kids?” Kes taunts instead, wiggling his eyebrows before stretching in his own chair.

“At least we weren’t drinking alone, cabrón,” Cassian deflects by eyeing the clear content in his friend’s glass.

“Let me drown my loneliness in peace, I did you a favor. Plus, I miss my wife and son and puppy and Sab’s not a great distraction.”

“How much did you have already, you’re turning whiny Dameron.”

“Not much, I would not want to steal your thunder, Mr. I’m brooding unless I can demonstrate my sick moves,” he replies, smirking.

“And what poison exactly is into this glass?”

Despite her current curiosity, Jyn cannot prevent a smile from blooming on her lips at their usual banter — leave it to her to snatch a comedic duo... — but it does make her curious and she doesn’t wish for the night to end yet. She doesn’t doubt that tomorrow they will be back on their insane road trip so she focuses on mundane things and sweet summer nights while they last.

“Mezcal, you didn’t learn about it, through your wanderlust? It’s a liquor made from agave.”

“I don’t think I do, but I’ve heard the name before. It’s something like tequila?”

The Charolastras share a long glance across from her, clearly having a silent conversation or a private joke, then Kes cracks his knuckles, adopting ostensibly a teaching stance. For a second she’s amused by his antics again, as Cassian solemnly pours the clear liquid into two tiny bowls set on the table. Jyn guesses they’re not fooling around like she assumed when Kes states calmly:

“While more known — and thus exported — Tequila is actually only made from blue agave, it’s mostly for tourists.”

“Don’t be snotty Dameron, tequila is still good. One properly made, that is. But I find Mezcal more varied,” Cassian offers.

“Why, there’s different sorts?”

“Of course, around forty to fifty sorts, I think,” Kes frowns, clearly looking at his best mate for confirmation. “You know, it’s actually a refined process, not easy to make and to find. I don’t have the exact ratio but —“

“After a hard acquired harvest, it takes cutting, burning, pressing by feet and several distilling,” Cassian cuts in, “so it takes days — sometimes more than a week — before a single drop ends up in a bottle. Actually the ratio is around ten kg for a single liter of liquor. It’s like... the sweat of Mexico, more precisely it’s the tears of fire of this country.”

“You’re really passionate about it, guys, it’s weird to hear Cass waxing poetry, Kes-adillas I’d understand, but...”

All to their admiration for this Mexican drinkable piece of culture, they don’t pick up the nicknames, despite the little smile that lifts a corner of her mouth. She’s even more intrigued, Cassian can tell, because he pushes his tiny bowl in her direction:

“Have a taste, Jyn.”

“Hey, this is no girlie stuff, let’s get her cheap tequila instead.”

“Excuse me, Sergeant Dameron, but I can probably drink you both under the table and besides, I’m not one for girlie stuff, I told you before.”

Both nod and the clear liquid burns in her mouth, its aroma surprisingly rich and smoky. She sips slowly like Kes does in front of her and she understands how their patriotism can shine through this particular alcohol. It’s great.

“How do you know so much about it anyway? Has it always been your preferred drink?”

“That too,” Cassian answers after a few seconds, “but actually, my father was a producer. Nothing professional, but he made a few bottles for family and friends.”

“So you helped him? I guess that’s why you’re so precise then...”

She’s fishing for information with less discretion than she usually observes, because alcohol effects aside, anything that entails learning facts about Cassian is worth the shot — pun intended. For all their constant nagging about her being closed off, he for one isn’t as forward as Kes. Yet her remark strains his smile further and Dameron stares stubbornly at the table when his friend replies:

“I didn’t get to help him, just saw him about. I was too young then.”

Not missing a beat, Cassian murmurs, as if speaking to himself:

“And I’m too old now.”

She’s startled and even Kes is left agape when he gets up suddenly and bids them a hasty goodnight without even pausing to hear their answer. Not that they could have uttered a single word, that is. Once Cassian disappears, Jyn turns to Kes hoping to make sense of this unexpected behavior, but he just shrugs.

“What the heck happened? What did I do?”

“Don’t worry Jyn, it’s just Cassian being... rudo. It will be better in the morning. It’s not easy for him to go back to Mexico, I think it’s worse for him than for me. I focus on good memories, he gets assaulted by bad ones. It’s not your fault.”

Yet, guilt is marring his handsome features, his flat tone indicating that it is far from the first time Cassian pulled something like this and he couldn’t stop it. She too feels sheepish, though even without Dameron’s reassurance, she realizes she had done nothing wrong. Be as it may, trying to understand things better, she asks:

“I got my past laid bare already, can’t you explain what has gotten into him?”

“It’s not my story to tell. But you might know that we’ve been raised by Gina’s sister before getting to the US?” At her nod he adds: “I’ve been orphaned young too and it’s harsh, but Cassian, he was devastated. He’s still beating himself up over it twenty years later.”

If Jyn Erso understands anything about life, it’s that you’re always carrying your ghosts wherever you go. Some days, it’s a light comforting presence, but more often than not it’s an unavoidable burden.

“I didn’t show it before,” Jyn starts awkwardly, changing the subject, “but as far as cops go, you’ve both been great with me. I’m not easy to be around, but you took in everything like troopers and I gave very little in return.”

“Don’t sweat it, having you around is an unexpected happenstance, designed by our Lord above or destiny if you prefer to put it like that, yet I value your presence. You reach Cassian so you deserve everything we can lend you, because, even including tonight, you’re making him smile Jyn, up to his crinkling eyes.”

“You do too, Kes. Watching you is like witnessing a comedic duo, when you’re not bickering.”

“That’s because I’ve got a lifetime of getting under his skin, I mean, he’s my brother, has been since first grade.”

“So?”

“If you asked around about Captain Andor, people who work with him every day would say he’s dedicated, loyal to a fault, a perfect soldier. But not the kind of guy easy to please, nor overly friendly.”

“He told me he’s circumspect but I understand that, I’m not exactly a Disney princess ether.”

“Can’t fault you here,” Kes snorts good-naturally before adding in a quiet voice she almost doesn’t catch, “but maybe that’s why with you, he lets his guard down, he reaches out, and I see you meeting him halfway.”

An angel passes, Jyn’s heart hammering stupidly in her chest and it takes everything not to raise the bait. Instead, she manages to ask flippantly:

“Cop, singer, romantic poet, therapist, you’re a man of many talents, aren’t you Kes-adillas?”

“I must be, with you two. But still, consider what I said, and now I close this delightful chat, I feel my balls shriveling up already.”

“Can’t have that.”

“My wife would never overcome the loss,” he deadpans while she lets out a giggle.

His sense of humor is clearly devastating but his eyes remain kind and serious. He stands up, has a gesture as if to kiss her on the cheek, but she instinctively squares her shoulders and he opts for squeezing her arm instead.

“Sleep well, Stardust,” he whispers gently, retreating back to the house.

“You too, Kes, and... thanks.”

He smiles and goes in what she had surmised to be Sandro’s room. Nobody had dared waking him up though, so she supposes it’s free for Kes to take. Honestly this particular stop is really weird... she hopes the morning, ridiculously close now, will clear the air because she might need all her might for the rest of the trip.

She debates with herself before entering the other free room — their host had prepared his couch for one of them, after all. But Gina’s bag is in that room so she must disturb Cassian if only to use necessary stuff. A shower before going to sleep sounds heavenly indeed.

She knocks and he bids her to enter instantly. He doesn’t acknowledge her presence beyond that though. His tight expression hardens his whole face and she doesn’t need Kes to tell her that he’s unnecessarily brooding.

But she had this kind of outburst before, she’s no stranger to family issues and she owes Cassian more than anybody. So, copying how Bodhi acts whenever she’s in a funk, she lays down next to him, hands pillowing her head. He ignores her presence and this is just as well because she already has the retort ready even though he won’t like to hear it. When she wanted to be left alone a few days ago, he didn’t let her either. Payback is a bitch.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers finally, after twenty breaths — because yes, she keeps count, it gives her something to focus on.

“Don’t mention it Cassian, it happens to everyone.”

Well, not quite everyone, she amends when his lips strain into a bitter smile, but it happens to her on a regular basis. The unpredictable lashing out becomes encompassing and when it cools off, the unease it leaves in its wake is just as painful. No sense in beating a dead horse anyway, right?

“I just got frustrated, you know? And it boiled over. You got in the middle of this and it’s not fair to you.”

The use of the word frustrated irks her for some reason and as Cassian refuses to meet her gaze, it does nothing to abates her awkwardness. Contrary to what Kes had said, maybe she had her part in his outburst earlier. Dancing with him, having fun, flirting a bit... she shouldn’t have done that, music or not. But this side of Cassian was so magnetic she couldn’t resist the pull. She hadn’t wanted to, if she’s honest.

“I enjoyed the night, Jyn,” he says, echoing her thoughts. “I hope we can do it again sometime.”

“It felt great to leave the car, if anything.”

His eyes tighten and his lips expands a bit but he is not quite smiling. She’s somehow said the wrong thing, it sounded like a rebuke she didn’t mean, but further mumblings flee from her mind when his warm hand covers hers.

“I liked to dance with you, you’re not as bad as you seem to think. I’d want to try again,” he repeats, “if you’d let me.”

His tone is too earnest just to be speaking about dance, and she hopes the dimly lit room hides the blush blooming on her fair skin.

“You think you got me figured out then, Cassian?”

“Not quite yet. But I don’t mind so much, I can be patient.”

That she knows, somebody less tenacious would have given up by now. She doesn’t know what to make of his dedication, especially tonight.

“I should go shower and then to sleep,” she replies, “the couch is waiting for me and we’re still far from your destination, right?”

She’s never been to Mexico before and truly their map appeared quite nonsensical to her. Then again, she had quite a lot in mind when she had the opportunity to ponder on it. She hadn’t quite made up her mind to follow them all the way through then.

She wonders every morning if staying with them is the right course of action, but better the devil she knows... and, well, the Charolastras are really easy to be around, their presence are the perfect distraction. She’s even grown to like Dameron’s old mustang, she’s almost disappointed to know it won’t hit the road for much longer.

“We should reach Bernal tomorrow, but... I don’t mind if after preparing for sleep you come back here. I don’t want to chase you away.”

“I know, and you don’t, Cassian. But there’s a perfectly nice sleeping accommodation up for my taking, and... we should use this opportunity to gather our thoughts in private.”

She tried to be reassuring, to be tactful and nice, but he still nods dejectedly. Jyn should probably justify that he seems emotionally raw and she knows how mentally exhausted she is, not a good combo when sharing space, in sharing a bed all the more. But she doesn’t know how to word it without adding gasoline to the fire. Their easiness with bed sharing — not actually sleeping together except in the strictest sense of the word! — feels less and less platonic as days go on. She already can’t even explain how they’ve developed the habit, let alone how to halt it.

At a loss for words, she grabs her bag of things and breathes back a goodnight when Cassian whispers one, eyes even sadder.

It should not taste this bitter to Jyn. Surely it’s just the remnants of Mezcal on her tongue.

Yet, in the shower, curled up on the couch, she still feels his feather-light digits on her hips, and when she closes her eyes, it’s the earlier sight of his carefree smile that accompanies her to sleep.

[dlamp-dictator]

Allen’s Anime Update

And so January ends, along with the drive to care about our New Year’s Resolutions, and we begin to the month of Love and Cupid. 

And... honestly, not a lot of anime that gets my interest so far for this Update. 

Yeah folks, anything I’m mildly interested in so far just doesn’t have enough episodes right now to give a decent opinion on outside of a first impression, and I don’t like giving First Impressions unless it’s something I really plan on keeping up with. And outside of that Fate spin off with Waver nothing’s getting my attention in sense of me wanting to watch it from start to finish from the word “Go” yet, so... I’ve got very little to talk about this month in terms of anime.

For those new to... me in general since I’m tagging some new fandoms this time around, I’m Allen X. Every month I write up a few short paragraphs about the anime I watch and the video games I play that I call Updates. They’re usually just overviews of whatever I’m into that month, and if it really gets my attention, then I make opinion pieces on them call Ramblings. Now with that introduction out of the way, I’ll get to the Update. There aren’t a lot of shows I can give a decent opinion on,but I have seen some shows I can talk about real quick before the month ends.

Starting things up we’ve got RWBY finishing off it’s sixth volume with a bang. After the dragged out plot of Volume 4 and the dragged out world-building of Volume 5 it’s nice to see RWBY returning to it’s strengths. Fun characters, fun action, ludicrous partial effects, and cool character designs. Seriously, if you lost faith in RWBY after Volume 4 then I recommend reading some plot synopsis of Volume 5 and jump straight into 6. This volume fixed a lot of the issues of the world-building dumps in Volume 5, gave us some great action scenes, and answered a lot of questions we’ve had since Volume 3. 

And man... the fight scenes. God, I can just watch the Cinder vs. Neo fight twenty times over and still want more.

But yes, this season did a lot of good. Fix up the world-building, gave us two good character arcs for Ruby and Blake, an abundance of good fight scenes, and showed enough hints of the b-plot that might be taking place in Volume 7 without making it a key point of Volume 6 and drag the plot down. It’s still got some flaws here and there, some critiques that people far more into the show than me could give, but for now I’m just going to revel in the good.

Next up we’ve got The Rising of the Shield Hero, a new show with just enough content out that I can discuss it. It’s yet another Isekai show with your typical Isekai protagonist. This flavor of John Smith is called Iwatani Naofumi, a reclusive otaku that gets transported to fantasy world to become one of Four Heroes meant to save it.

However, there’s a few snags to that.

He’s the Shield Hero, which is the Support Class of the 4 and seen as useless among the heroes due to his lack of offensive ability. Along with that disadvantage, he gets tricked early on in his ignorance of the politics and unsavory characters of the new fantasy world and is caught in scheme that ruins his reputation within the world that leaves him to fend for himself with little help or advice. As a result he becomes more cold and calculative in order to save a world that no longer cares about him to get him, with a few cute girls helping him along the way. 

Overall, I like the premise of this show, even if I think how Naofumi lost said reputation was too cheap. The way he thinks as a tactician is pretty cool, using his current party member as their main attack while he supports her with auxiliary skills and verbal commands. The relationship between the two is sweet as well, at least as of episode 3. Naofumi is tactical and a bit abrasive, Raphtalia is naive but diligent, and the two have an almost sibling-like relationship. So far, I’m enjoying every new episode.

And last, we have Konosuba, specifically the dub of Konosuba. To my surprise, Crunchyroll actually made a dub of something that wasn’t originally on Funimation first. I’m on episode 9 right now, and... it’s okay. 

I mean, the acting and direction are great, and I still find myself laughing at some of the jokes, but... something’s just bugging my about Aqua’s character. Less her voice actor and more of the writing surrounding her. She’s... annoying, and not in a cute or comedic way either. This might be a product of me actually paying attention to the words coming out of her mouth now that I can understand them, but she comes across as arrogant, ungrateful, and ignorant to how much Kazuma works to keep her out of harm’s way. Not to say Kazuma’s a saint, but I can’t help but pity him a little with how... grating Aqua’s personality can be to both him and the party at times. 

Honorable Mentions

Like I said, January doesn’t have much for me to talk about in terms of new anime, so I’ll be going over some of the anime I’m interested in talking about once more of it comes out:

Love is War: I heard this anime was basically Death Note if it became a Rom-Com. With that comparison I’m assume someone’s going to handcuff someone else in a bid to get them to confess their love for each other.

Lord El-Melloi II Case Files: This one might get its own Rambling, but for now I’m going to wait until at least one more episode comes out before watching it. I’m interested to see how they’re going to play this story now that it’s not tied to the Holy Grail and 20 wikiapedia articles that is the Fate/Type-Moon world-building anymore.

Mysteria Friends: All I know about this anime is that it’s got princesses, dragons, and dragon princesses. That alone has gained my interest.

That’s it for this update. Hopefully I’ll have something worth talking about in February. Originally I was going to work on the Video Game Update right after this, but... those are RPGs that just passed the 30-hour mark for an official Rambling, so I might do that instead. 

Anyway, see you next time, folks.

[ladygayfeels]

Cuddles and Cough Medicine

This fic is essentially just Nicole being the natural caregiver that she is, looking after Waverly when she’s sick.

Nicole chastised herself for yawning for what seemed to be the millionth time, and it was only 11am. She finished pouring a mug of steaming coffee for herself and briefly registered Wynonna wandering into the break room.

The brunette swiped the cup of coffee and pat the Officer on the back. “Thanks for the coffee. I really needed it.” Wynonna groaned, before slumping into a chair. Nicole rolled her eyes and poured herself — another— cup of coffee, before turning to face the brunette and leant back against the counter. She noticed the dark circles under the eldest Earp’s eyes and wondered if she’d been suffering from nightmares again. “You alright?” she asked, brow raised as she peered over the mug in her hands. Wynonna narrowed her gaze at the Officer. “If that’s your way of telling me that I look like shit… I already know. Waverly kept me up with her constant coughing last night. I love the girl, would do anything for her… but if she coughs one more goddamned time… so help me peacemaker…” the brunette’s ramble drifted into silence, as she pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled a deep breath.

As the brunette’s words sank in, a frown formed on the redhead’s face, giving her a striking resemblance to a puppy, Wynonna thought. “Waverly’s sick?” Nicole’s voice was quiet and the brunette rolled her eyes at the Officer’s pout. “She probably didn’t tell you because she doesn’t want you to worry. It’s nothing. Just a cough.” the eldest Earp shrugged, her intention to soothe whatever worries the redhead had, but somehow the nonchalant attitude only seemed anger the Officer.

Upon seeing the scowl on Nicole’s face, Wynonna motioned with her hand for the Officer to speak what was on her mind. “It’s not nothing, Wynonna.” Nicole sighed, “Waverly dated… Champ… for years. Do you think he paid any attention when she was sick?” she asked with an edge to her tone at the mere thought of the boy-man. “She’s probably used to being left to get well again, all by herself…” the redhead raked a hand through her hair, the very thought of her girlfriend not being taken care of properly, causing her heart to ache. A moment of silence passed and Wynonna could practically hear the Officer thinking from halfway across the room.

Next thing the brunette knew, Nicole was pouring the rest of her coffee down the sink, and returning to her desk. Usually she’d tease the redhead about being smitten, but she couldn’t bring herself to. Chump hadn’t deserved Waverly, Wynonna knew that for sure. But seeing the effort the Nicole puts into her relationship with Waverly, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d finally found someone worthy of her baby girl.

With a fond eye roll, she thanked the Officer again as she crossed the bullpen, before disappearing into the BBD office. Unlike earlier that morning when she’d arrived, Wynonna had a rare genuine smile on her face from knowing that —despite herself being back, for awhile now — Waverly wasn’t alone anymore.

—————————————————

Nicole lasted another 20 minutes, before she rushed into Nedley’s office. The Sheriff wasn’t as oblivious as everyone thought, and he knew from not seeing Waverly around the station, and the slightly frazzled look on his deputy’s face, that she’d be about to ask if she could leave early.

He gave her the afternoon off and when she requested the next two days off — unpaid — he was helpless to resist the redhead’s puppy eyes. Randy Nedley prided himself on being a strong man, but it was quickly becoming clear that his favourite Officer had him wrapped around her little finger, just like his daughter. He was unable to keep up his steely resolve when Nicole smiled slightly and those damned dimples showed. He immediately dismissed her and shook his head fondly as she left his office hurriedly. He really needed to grow a backbone when it came to Chrissy and Nicole, but somehow he knew that’d never happen.

—————————————————

After speaking with Nedley, Nicole finished up her paper work and tidied her desk, before leaving the station and going straight to the store. She knew what ingredients she needed in order to cook once she got to the homestead, what she didn’t know however was which medicine Waverly would need.

Not wanting to wake her girlfriend in case she was sleeping, and also wanting to surprise her, she got five different flavours of cough sweets, two different cough syrups and six different types of cold/flu tablets. In hindsight — as she made her way to the homestead — she realised she may have gone slightly overboard on the whole medicine front… but she couldn’t bring herself to care all that much. Her girlfriend was sick and Nicole was going to be there to see her through the worst of it.

She parked the cruiser next to Waverly’s Jeep, collected the bags of medicine and ingredients in one hand, as she locked the car and made her way to the front door. She fished around in her jacket pocket for the spare key Wynonna and Waverly had given her, for emergencies only, the eldest Earp had said pointedly, before highlighting that jumping her baby sister’s bones, did in fact not count as an emergency, which had left both Nicole and Waverly blushing furiously.

Entering the homestead she heard the faint sounds of coughing, a blowing of a nose and some exaggerated and frustrated groaning coming from upstairs. Placing the bag of groceries on the kitchen counter, Nicole was familiar enough with the homestead now enough to know where everything in the kitchen was. She opened the cupboard and reached for a glass, filling it three quarters of the way up with water.

With the bag of various cough medicines in one hand, and the glass of water in the other, the redhead made her way up the stairs, frowning as she heard her girlfriend coughing violently. With a small knock on the door, Nicole heard a muffled, “Come in.” and opened the door, smiling sadly at the sight before her.

The trash can beside Waverly’s bed was overfilled with used tissues. There were some more scattered over the duvet and the brunette was laying face down in the pillow, completely exhausted. “Wynonna, I’m sorry I kept you up all night…” the youngest Earp’s apology was muffled by the pillow. “Not, Wynonna… but she knows, don’t worry.” Nicole replied, a grin spreading on her face as Waverly’s head lifted at the sound of the redhead’s voice. “Nicole!” she sighed, a dreamy expression on her face. “Hey baby.” the Officer made her way over to the bed. Waverly’s face dropped instantly as Nicole got two feet away, which caused the redhead to stand still, her hands held up in surrender, showing her offerings of medicine and water to wash it down with. “Don’t come any closer… you’ll get sick.” Waverly said before coughing again. She groaned and fell face first back into the pillow.

Nicole ignored her girlfriend’s worries and crossed the short distance. She placed the glass of water of Waverly’s bedside table and sat on the edge of the bed, beside her incredibly sick yet still breathtakingly beautiful girlfriend. Nicole gently massaged Waverly’s head, a small smile curving her lips as the brunette turned her head on the pillow so she could see her girlfriend properly. A content sigh escaped her lips from the feel of Nicole’s fingers against her scalp, effectively distracting her from the pounding headache she’d been suffering from all day, and her eyes fluttered closed.

With her free hand, the redhead started to unpack the contents of the bag in her lap. “I didn’t know which type of cough medicine you usually take when you get sick, so I kind of got one of everything I could find.” Nicole rambled, not noticing that Waverly had opened her eyes and was gazing up at her in awe. Once she did notice, a blast coloured her cheeks and the hand in Waverly’s hair stilled. “Y-you bought all that? For me?” the genuine shock in the brunette’s tone, caused Officer to lean down a little closer. “I’ll let you in on a little secret…” Nicole stage-whispered, briefly looking behind her for comedic effect, which caused Waverly to cover her mouth to stifle a cough-giggle. The grin lighting up the Officer’s face softened, as did the sparkle in her eyes, and Waverly found herself completely captivated by her. “I’d do anything for you, Waverly Earp.” the admission was quiet, and felt like a promise. The way Nicole said the brunette’s name, like it was the answer to all of her prayers, instead of a curse — like the rest of the people in town did — never failed to leave her speechless. Waverly found herself wondering yet again, just how she had gotten so lucky to call this beautiful soul hers .

Seeing the tears well up in the brunette’s eyes, Nicole leant down pressing a lingering kiss to Waverly’s forehead. “I brought up some water for you to take with whichever medicine you decide to take. I’m going to go downstairs, make some tea and something for you to eat because you can’t take medicine on an empty stomach…” her rambling was silenced from a hand reaching out and clasping her own. She looked over and found Waverly smiling gratefully up at her, “Thank you.” “Like I said… anything for you.” Nicole pressed a kiss to her girlfriend’s knuckles, before continuing. “I’ll bring everything up here so you don’t need to worry about making it down those stairs. Just rest up and I’ll be back.” she stroked her thumb comfortingly over the brunette’s hand, receiving a sleepy yawn and nod in response. A small chuckle escaped her as she watched Waverly’s eyes widen comically, at the array of medicine laid out on the bed before her. Before leaving to return to the kitchen, Nicole pressed a chaste kiss to the crown of her Waverly’s head, and received a “You’re the best ever!” in response, causing a permanent smile to spread on her face, as she exited the room and set about making her girlfriend’s favourite comfort food.

—————————————————

An hour and a half later, Nicole entered Waverly’s room with a tray. Her heart soaring as she took a moment to memorise this moment. Waverly was snuggling a pillow, the way she usually would Nicole. Her breathing coming out in short puffs, blowing a strand of hair from her face. She placed the tray on the chair in the corner of the room, before making her way to Waverly’s side.

Nicole didn’t want to wake her girlfriend, not after her looking so peaceful, but she knew that the woman in question hadn’t eaten all day. She awoke the sleeping beauty with a kiss to her forehead, and was rewarded with a sleepy Waverly. An involuntary grin spreading on her face, as the brunette reached up and traced the dimple in Nicole’s cheek. “I made your favourite.” Nicole whispered, dropping a quick kiss to the tip of the brunette’s nose. “You’re my favourite.” Waverly mumbled deliriously, the hand on Nicole’s cheek, sliding to the back of the redhead’s neck to pull her down into a cuddle. Sleepy Waverly was — arguably — Nicole’s favourite. The brunette was cuddly and all types of adorable. Nicole hummed and pressed multiple kisses to any patch of Waverly’s skin her lips touched. The brunette’s warm collarbone, neck, jaw, cheek, and a slight shiver ran through the brunette, causing the Officer’s heart to stutter. Sometimes she forgot that she had the same affect on Waverly, as Waverly did on her, and in those moments where she’s reminded of such a thing, she finds herself wondering how she got so lucky to call this smart, strong and brave woman, hers .

Nicole helped Waverly sit up, making sure there were enough pillows behind her, and that she was comfortable enough, before bringing the tray of food over. The Officer had recreated Waverly’s favourite dish, a bowl of sweet and sour soup and beside it, a tub of peanut butter and a spoon. Also on the tray was another glass of water and a cup of tea. The redhead had made chamomile tea, to help Waverly sleep and added some honey to it, to help soothe her sore throat. “The tea is for after you’ve eaten. It’ll help you sleep a bit better.” Nicole said, anticipating the brunette’s reaction.

What she didn’t expect was for Waverly to burst into tears. “Did I do something wrong?” Nicole immediately asked, panic shooting through her. The brunette shook her head, sniffling and reached over the tray towards Nicole. The redhead was instinctively pulled into her orbit and rest her forehead against the brunette’s. She wiped Waverly’s tears away gently with the pads of her thumbs. “I’m sorry, I just… I’ve not had someone take care of me like this for… well, years.” the sadness in her tone, caused a lump to grow in Nicole’s throat. They sat in companionable silence for a moment, just revelling in each other’s presence, before Nicole spoke up. “Thank you.” she said, smiling bashfully at the look of confusion on Waverly’s face. “I think I should be the one saying that.” Waverly looked pointedly down at the tray before her gaze returned to Nicole’s. “No, I just mean… I know you can look after yourself, but… thank you for letting me take care of you.” the redhead’s face flushed crimson and she looked down, avoiding the brunette’s gaze.

Waverly was left speechless, she like she was short-circuiting as she tried to process what had just happened. Her girlfriend had left work early, gone to the store to pick up a million different types of medicine, made Waverly her favourite food… and then thanked her. The brunette hooked her finger under and lifted the Officer’s chin, so she could look into her eyes properly. “Thank you. For everything. For all of this…” Waverly pointed to the tray of food and the many boxes of medicine on the bedside table, beside them. “You don’t have to thank me, Waves.” Nicole’s lips twitched with a small smile, “I wanted to do all this.” Waverly closed her eyes, rest her forehead against Nicole’s once more, and gave herself a moment to just bask in the feeling of being loved and taken care of. Just the overwhelming feeling of being safe with Nicole by her side. The brunette’s stomach rumbling loudly, ruined the moment, leaving both women laughing.

Nicole headed downstairs to clean up, whilst Waverly ate. She washed the dishes she’d used to cook the food, and finished tidying up the kitchen before making her way back upstairs. Waverly had finished eating and was currently sipping the tea. A warm smile spreading on the brunette’s face as she saw her girlfriend enter the room once more. The Officer moved the tray off of the bed and placed it back on the chair in the corner of the room, just as Waverly placed the now-empty tea cup on her bedside table, knocking some of the boxes of medicine onto the floor. Nicole moved everything out of the way, before sitting on the edge of Waverly’s bed.

The brunette looked like she wanted to say something. “What is it?” Nicole asked, tucking a strand of hair behind Waverly’s ear absentmindedly. “Earlier… you said the tea should help me sleep better.” Waverly began saying. “Yeah, it was chamomile to help you sleep… and I added a little honey to it too, to help soothe your throat from the cough.” the redhead tilted her head slightly. The thoughtfulness of her girlfriend caused another waves of tears to spring to her eyes. Nicole read the situation completely wrong, and hung her head, pinching the bridge of her nose as she mentally berated herself. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked… I don’t even know if you like-” she began to say but was silenced once again by a light grip on the hand covering her face. “Everything was perfect. You’re perfect. Thank you.” Waverly’s voice shook as a happy tear fell down her face. Nicole exhaled in relief and leant closer to place a lingering kiss to the brunette’s forehead. “Can you stay?” Waverly asked quietly, almost worried that Nicole might say no. The redhead pulled back and gazed into her favourite pair of hazel eyes. “It’s just, you said the the tea would help me sleep better… but sleeping with you makes me sleep better.” she said, searching Nicole’s eyes, before realising what she said. “I mean sleeping as in you beside me, but… well I guess the other way too but-” Waverly’s rambling was silenced by a pair of familiar soft lips moving against hers. “I know what you meant.” Nicole rolled her eyes fondly, caressing the brunette’s cheek softly. “Of course, I’ll stay.” she added, walking over to Waverly’s closet. “Don’t you have work tomorrow?” Waverly suddenly asked, the thought only popping into her head as she watched her girlfriend unbutton, and then hang, her work shirt up in the closet. “No, I took two days off so I could take care of you.” Nicole replied, her tone as casual as it could get. The domesticity of the situation causing Waverly’s heart to race.

Nicole shook her head as she shimmied out of her work pants. She then reached into the drawer Waverly had given her — completely unaware of how her current state of undress had captured her girlfriend’s complete attention — and returned to the bed with an old University shirt and shorts. She slipped the shorts and baggy shirt on, before climbing into the bed. It was only when she turned her head, did Nicole notice Waverly’s jaw slacked. Recognising the look in the brunette’s eyes, Nicole shuffled, pressing herself into Waverly’s back. “Nuh uh. You’re sick.” she mumbled into the brunette’s shoulder. “That’s not fair. You can’t just…” Waverly pouted. “Just…?” Nicole bit her lip to stifle a grin. “Just… look like that and then not…” the brunette got all flustered, and hid her face in the pillow, her head lay on.

Unable to resist Waverly, the redhead kissed her way up her girlfriend’s neck and draped her arm around the brunette’s waist, cuddling into her. “When you’re feeling better… I promise.” she whispered in Waverly’s ear, smiling against warm skin as another involuntary shiver ran through Waverly. An adorable yawn escaped the brunette and she hugged Nicole’s arm around her tighter. “Okay.” Waverly hummed, “Thank you again for today. You’re the best.” she added, her voice heavy with sleep. “Anytime, Waves.” Nicole promised with a final kiss to the brunette’s shoulder. Waverly hummed again in response. “Go to sleep now, Baby.” Nicole whispered, burrowing her face in the space between Waverly’s neck and shoulder. Both drifting off to sleep within seconds and both thankful for having the other in their life.

[askredrage]

Open up your EYE (Thoughts on MLP Movie)

Has the show gotten one of those characters that doesn't know what a sense of humor is and fights back with combat?  Or am I thinking of a lot of reformed characters from other media? Spoilers down below.  Haven't seen the movie?  Well the DVD/Blu-Ray aren't far behind.

Um...so that was the movie I had almost missed out on, huh?  Well it was.........something... Ok, so I'm afraid this "review" is going to be EXTREMELY difficult to judge because the night before I actually watched Disney/Pixar's Coco first (by the way, 10/10, would DVD/Blu-Ray again).  And sitting down to watch this movie second was probably a huge mistake as this movie left me with a rather sour taste in my mouth.  Perhaps if I waited to see Coco later, then I wouldn't feel this...negative.  I'm the kind of person that goes to the movies a ton so I'm pretty much judging this movie along with all the other movies I've gone to see in the past several years. So let's get an obvious good thing out of the way first; the movie's return to 2-D or 2.5-D animation.  Never in a long time since Princess and the Frog in 2009 have I been glad to see the return of hand-drawn styled animation.  It's actually quite interesting when you learn that the movie characters were actually made 3-D FIRST before becoming 2-D characters in a 3-D world.  Speaking of which, a major chunk of the pony characters don't feel like repeatedly used poses like in the TV show.  They've been given a similar design to the show but more expressive and created with greater, fluid movement in a few areas.  So of course Pinkie Pie would be the one to mostly get the spotlight in this area.  I think people were worried about the 3-D landscaping dampening the style, but I'll let it slide as they did create the landscapes beautifully.  Plus 3-D environments have worked for 2-D movies in the past.  Talk to a good chunk of Disney Renaissance movies like Beauty and the Beast's Ballroom. An interesting way to segue into this next part.  Whereas the Disney Movies were mostly the movie first and merchandise later, Hasbro's the company that will make a product first then get their animators to make an episode or movie around it.  Also I am aware that Hasbro has one hell of a leash on these animators.  They've probably had a ton of amazing ideas for a My Little Pony movie to appeal to all audiences instead of the targeted one.  But what I was given to view not fell into my low expectations...it went even LOWER!  Perhaps being exposed to Coco first had ruined my enjoyment for this as there was much needed room for improvement. See if I can sequence this a bit.  Let's start with the story.  Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Friendship has created a massive party in an unusually-styled Canterlot that's looking a bit spacious than the busting city I'm usually seeing in the show.  Through some comedic introductions, a song and a series of show-related cameos we are given the things that the outside audience needs to know.  Things get shaken up when Tempest Shadow, an broken-horned unicorn visitor representing for the Storm King, arrives with an army to take over the entire kingdom in order to siphon the magic out of the four princesses.  Now it's up to Twilight and her five friends (not six, Starlight Glimmer got shoved out of the spotlight) to find aid outside Equestria and take back their home capital. Interestingly enough, the one hour and forty-four run time actually felt kind of long when normally I'm sitting for two to three hour-long movies...but then it quickly sped through the story in a poor pace to show off their new toys/playsets and have money left in their budgets.  I'm probably not the first to say this movie was poorly paced, am I?  From memory, I think the longest we've stuck with a setting outside Canterlot was probably the desert city of Klugetown.  You could probably argue that perhaps it was Hippogriffia/Seaquestria but events there kinda made me WANT to make it go faster.  Get to that part in a second. Songs?  As a 90's kid, you know that most of the songs are either set aside or forgotten (like the ones in this film) for the most important one:  The Villain Song.  And Tempest Shadow's Open Up Your Eyes (currently having its instrumental being spammed repeatedly during this typing) is indeed worthy of the title "Villain Song".  The setting, the lighting, the flashback made by a different team (according to the credits), I loved it all.  I'd say it reminds me of Unleash the Magic from Friendship Games but I rank this song much higher. Honorary note for Sia's Rainbow.  I'm being told by some reviews that the song felt a bit too somber for a finale but I don't know, this felt like a calm, perfect way to wrap up the movie with.  I haven't a clue what the problem with it was. Finally, how about the characters.  We've got your familiar TV show cast along with a ton of celebrity voices, including Sia as Songbird Serenade at the beginning and end of the movie who is literally modeled after one of her actual outfits.  I chuckled when I dug up her photo, I don't know how she manages to see through that hair.  Other noteworthy celebrities that got a good chunk of screen time were Kristin Chenoweth as Princess Skystar, Liev Schriber as the Storm King, Zoe Saldana as Captain Celaeno, Michael Peña as Grubber the Hedgehog and Taye Diggs as Capper the anthropomorphic cat.  Most have been given the appropriate amount of screen time while others (STORM KING, MAIN ANTAGONIST OF THE FREAKING MOVIE), were held off until the end.  Oh yeah, that one Parrot Pirate with the squawking and demolitions.  Loved that guy. Sadly, the weakest of the group was the Storm King himself and not just because he was saved for the climax.  Previous TV show antagonists have ranged from either self-motivated tyrants to strategic conquerors for their own kind.  This knucklehead is literally announced as "evil" from Grubber and there just wasn't much from him to label him as an awesome villain.  Even his own funny moments couldn't save him.  And this is coming from a guy who isn't very fond of Starlight Glimmer yet she's still WAY more interesting than this cloud yeti.  Oh well, maybe next time don't model your villain to be a lazy, wacky monkey. On the other side of the spectrum, however, is Emily Blunt as Tempest Shadow, the true antagonist of the movie, picking up all the work for the Storm King to restore her cracked horn.  Compared to "her boss" this character has her own goals and motivations, sort of like a bounty hunter or mercenary. Kudos there as those areas would reach up into the top three MLP:FIM villains on my list.  Sadly, as the movie is indeed called "Friendship is Magic", she's (OMG) reformed much like many of the other unicorns in this show (Anyone seeing a trend here?).  Regardless, when she was a villain, this was a skilled and probably self-trained fighter trying to regain her happiness through any means necessary, even serving a clown.  Even gave me a chuckle when she lost her cool in Canterlot in front of Grubber before realizing and calming down. The Mane Six and Spike are mixed in their performances and what they're given to do.  I'll have to rate them all from best to worst...you're not gonna love who's on the bottom. Pinkie Pie stuck out the most with previously mentioned animations and tons of interactions with the girls and the strangers they came across.  Side-note:  She is mean with a barge of cupcakes; had they been red-frosting, that fight scene might have been banned.  We even get a serious moment with her and Twilight where--getting ahead of myself.  Getting there soon, promise. Rainbow Dash, despite causing some extra trouble, gives the "awesome" the movie needs including getting the Parrot Pirates off their rears to face off against their former employers...that doesn't last long. Rarity's charm and generosity got Capper the cat to not only change Tempest's army's course but gather the other characters for a full on pledged climax fight. Fluttershy has hardly anything except the funniest moment in the entire film regarding opening up with a Storm King soldier.  Honestly want to know what became of those guys now. Spike, you trustworthy pal and weapon.  The TV show might have given you terrible episodes but who would have thought you'd become a necessary Pyro tool?  TF2 Workshop!  Make a mod!  NOW! Applejack...sold apple juice and roped a few people and rocks.  That's uh....that's about it. ....you all hate me now for this:  Twilight Sparkle ends up on the bottom heavily and deserves it all from actions, character writing and poor pace.  Our beloved Princess of Friendship is still the nerdy and orderly princess aimed at saving her home kingdom enough to act grumpy, annoyed and careless in her actions.  Said carelessness led to attempted robbery and created the biggest and most painful moment of the movie:  When Twilight angrily lashes out at Pinkie by saying she'd be better off without friends like them.  Not only was this stupidly painful, but it was the necessary tool for the whole "We're not friends anymore but then we get back together later" bit.  And said apology was being shoved in a climax to be ignored for comedic effect.  Now if perhaps both Twilight and Tempest were together during the end of the battle for apologies, that would not only be forgivable but an excellent moment for the movie.  But no...more like the Princess of Pace-dumping. Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhh....I know, I know, this is a movie targeted towards children, but so was Coco.  It would really help if some of that Disney magic could save the MLP Movie from its Hasbro chains.  I know if the team wasn't being held back, they could have gotten away with much, much more to save the film from me giving it a 4/10. Well, this is the West Coast Psycho, and in the words of Max G, "I hope ya hated it."

[awindowintothisworld]

May 4th, 2019 - Saturday

I’ve never been very good with introductions, but here we go. This is going to be the start of my personal blog, where I’ll be documenting my life as kind of like a digital journal. I do have a physical one that I keep, but I’ve been having a hard time hand-writing stuff down, so I figured a digital one will be better since I can type better than I can write. As far as names and places go, I will censor for just in case something were to happen with the privacy settings. I’ll write them down somewhere so that I can remember what names I gave everyone, since I have the memory of a sad goldfish. (I’ll go back and make double-check to make sure everything is secure. This blog is not for anyone but myself.)

So where to begin? Maybe a little bit more about myself or should I just go right into what’s been going on? I suppose for the sake of posterity, I’ll go ahead and give a little bit of background about myself. My name is Alissa Mead, born to Carl and Penny Mead. I was born on February 3rd, 1993 in Utah and grew up most of my life in Kaysville, a once very small suburban town in Utah that’s grown exponentially over the years I’ve lived there. It wasn’t until about two or three years ago that we started to experience heavy traffic on main street. Though there is a lot I tend to complain about my little hometown, I have to admit that it’s a pretty neat little place to live, mostly because the architecture still has that “old-timey” vibe. I’ll post a couple of really cool old black-and-white photos I found off of google. It’s weird to see how much it’s changed since 1913, what was dated on one of the photos I’ve found. I actually only just found out too that Kaysville was settled back in 1868. That’s cool.

Anyway, I come from a fairly large family. We have 8 in total, including me and my parents. I have three sisters and two brothers, the oldest being Amber, and the rest, in order being Ryan, Ashley, Me, Quetin, and Alaina. I grew up in a little home, about 1,000 square feet, just a couple blocks away from main street. It’s a little brick home with three bedrooms and one bathroom. It sounds crazy that we managed to cram 8 people into that little box, but we did it and I feel like we all turned out okay. Most of my siblings are moved out and have families, minus me and my little brother, Quetin. Amber has married a funny and large man by the name of Jason and have five kids, four of them being twins. You have Abby and Own, (twins,) Oliver, and then Ira and Elis, (who are also twins.) They’re all very social and very hilarious kids. They’re not afraid to speak their minds and ask you endless amounts of questions. They’re quite the handful, so I commend Amber and her husband for being able to handle them on the daily. I do love them though.

Ryan is married to a cute Latina girl names Candice. We don’t see them much, and as much as I hate to say it, I don’t mind that. Ryan has always left a foul taste in everyone’s mouth, since he doesn’t exactly have the best track record with anyone in my family. He’s managed to fuck everyone over in some way or another. From maxing out every credit card my mom had ever owned, to stealing Amber’s social security and ruining her credit score badly enough that it took her years to bounce back from it, and stealing nearly $2,000 from me because I stupidly let him have access to my bank account when I willing helped him out with buying a birthday present for his little girl, Maylee, who was born from another marriage before he and his first were divorced, due to Ryan’s bad habits and compulsive lying. However, that didn’t mean his first wife wasn’t just as scummy. Actually, no. Whitney wasn’t a bad person, her mother was. But that will perhaps be another tale for another day, since it’s a rather long one. Anyway, how Ryan managed to keep from being thrown into jail will always be a mystery to me, but because of all the shit he has pulled, everyone has been very careful as to what they say and bring to family events we know he is going to. It may be surprising to a lot of people, but we’ve never excommunicated him from our family. Why? Because he’s family, regardless of what he’s done. I still call him my brother, but that doesn’t mean I trust him. At all.

Ashley is married a man named Walter, who I would say is my favorite in-law just because I get along with him the best. He’s quiet, and comes off very grumpy and a bit stuck-up since he doesn’t talk to anyone much, but that’s just because he’s shy and is still a little uncomfortable around our family. Ashley and I had a conversation about this, and we think it might be because of the strict religious values my family holds. (That I do not anymore. I’ll explain this later.) Walter grew up in a very non-LDS home, so I guess he just feels a little out-of-place with us since we behave in a way that he’s not, I guess, familiar with? Even though he’s LDS himself. It’s kind of a weird and complicated situation to explain, but I can completely understand where he’s coming from. He and I bonded over video-games and other nerdy things, which is why I think we got along so well the first time we met. He’s even invited me to some of his works games nights, where they sit around and play video games. And no, before anyone assumes anything, (you fucking nasty,) nothing fishy is going on. He loves Ashley with all his heart, and treats her like a queen. I’m just the cool in-law he likes to hang with. Plus, Ashley has always been present whenever we’d meet up. She and Walter don’t have kids, even though Ashley really wants them. Maybe we’ll see some little Steeds running around here within a few years, but who knows.

Quentin is still living at home with my dad. He’s newly “returned” as an LDS missionary and I would consider to be my very best friend out of all of my siblings. He served a service mission here at home because of his Addison’s Disease (also known as primary adrenal insufficiency and hypocortisolism, is a long-term endocrine disorder in which the adrenal glands do not produce enough steroid hormones. Symptoms generally come on slowly and may include abdominal pain, weakness, and weight loss. According to Google.)  It’s also an auto-immune disorder that assaults the adrenal gland and, basically, renders your fight-or-flight reflex obsolete. We actually didn’t know he had this until just a few years ago, when he quite literally almost died because of it. It’s an extremely rare disease that his doctors were comically were so excited to diagnose, just because of how uncommon it was.

Quentin is an awkward nerdy kid who has an obsession with cars and Pokemon. He also has an ungodly talent for comedic timing. I don’t know how that kid does it, but he can make the most mundane sentence into pure comedy gold. I’m extremely jealous of it. As I said, he’s living at home with my sweet papa and working 9 to 5 job at the DI, or Deseret Industry.

Last of my siblings is Alaina, who is married to a complete sweetheart who is named Braden. They have a cute little daughter named Della who has been diagnosed with Cystic Fibrosis. (Which is a respiratory disease.) Alaina is a very sweet and head-strong little lady whom I haven’t been able to get along with very well. We don’t exactly fight very often, and she has never done anything that would warrant any bad blood between us, we just don’t exactly get each other. She’s very much one way, and I’m just the exact opposite. Ashley and I have talked about this, and she feels the same way. Alaina is just very much her own person and has a very set way of how she does things, and we just can’t quite get on the same wave-length. I think Amber and Quentin have managed to get passed the barrier, but Ashley and I haven’t. Neither has Ryan.

As for me, I’m about as much of a bachelorette as they come. I’m currently living in my hometown with a roommate in her grandmother’s basement. It’s a strange situation, I know, but I’m totally for it since the rent is free and her grandma doesn’t bother us much. For the year we’ve lived there, I think I can only think of maybe one time that she did something that really upset me. (She walked in on me while I was bare-naked and trying to get ready to go out. In my bedroom. I wasn’t happy.) So I can’t complain too much!

I’ve been working for the same retirement facility for about four years now, who of them being a server when I first started out. My third and fourth being with the department I’m in now, which the official title is “night security,” but I’m more of a night time receptionist and housekeeper, so it isn’t as cool as it sounds. I quite honestly hate my job. The hours are long (12 hours each shift, and I usually work three in a row, 8 to 8,) I don’t get to see the sun much, and I get to miss out on a lot of day-time activities because I’m either too tired or I have to work that night. It’s also started to really effect my physical and mental health. I’ve noticed that my depression and anxiety has been getting worse, my body is constantly aching and in pain because I sleep too much, and I’ve started to hallucinate a little bit. It’s nothing too intense, I just see weird shapes and people out of the corner of my eye for a couple seconds and then they’re gone, but it happens pretty often. I’m hoping that something that I really want to do will come up and I can apply to that, but after working this job and knowing how miserable I am doing it, I really want to find a job that I’ll like. The problem is that I don’t really know where that would be, and if the pay will be the same. I’m currently making about $11.75 an hour where I am, and I don’t think I’d be willing to go any lower. I know for some places, that isn’t a lot, but here in Utah, we don’t have the new “standard minimum wage” which is like $12 or something . . . Personally, I think that’s outrageous because you’re not suppose to live off of minimum wage. The minimum wage is suppose to be a starting point for people who are just starting out in the work force, and work their way up to a higher pay grade, but America is America and they made a big stink about that quite a few years back. (I can’t remember exactly when, but I know that California has implemented it. What a little bitch.)

I’m mostly just living life, trying to experience new things, and making an effort to try and meet new people. Since I work nights and most of my friends are either married or are complete hermits, (like my dear roommate,) it’s been pretty hard for me to get out there and see people, as well as find someone to date. So, to combat that, I’ve sucked up my pride and lowered my standards to sign up for an online dating site called Tinder. I’ve gone on a couple of dates, and for the most part they have been pretty good. (Minus maybe the first one, because it ended up crashing and burning after the second date, but more on that later because it still upsets me when I think about it. Listen to your gut kids. You’ll thank yourself later.) I’ve been talking with a couple of people and I might go on a date with some of them, but it’s been hard because since I work nights, I’m really bad at responding to them in a more consistent way, which is a huge flaw I need to work on.

I’m sorry to cut this off in a really weird spot, but I’m just now checking the clock and I need to get to work. I’ll be sure to continue this again tomorrow! Until then, cheers!