#he has plenty of other hats--including two I made for him--and it's way too hot for knitted beanies right now anyway

[theoktiste]

I signed up today for that 5k AU thing that's going on, and I've already written about 1500 words. It seems like beating my head against the wall over Perfect Boyfriend knocked loose some ideas for other projects haha.

The FicWIP story is a Garashir Witcher AU that I've been struggling to pin down for a while, and it's exciting to finally have words on the page for it. I'll still be working on Perfect Boyfriend--having a couple of projects going at a time lets me procrastinate on one by working on another, a strategy I also employ with my knitting and crochet endeavors (currently consisting of an afghan, a hat, and a fingerless glove, the last of which only needs to be seamed to finish the pair).

[chatonne-rousse]

Turtle-y Awesome

@sketchy-panda sent me the following ask last week:

...and this is the story that sprang from that ask. You never know what you're going to get when you share a headcanon with me! 😉

Read it on Ao3 here.

"...et puit, quand il fut bien certain que personne ne pouvait le voir, Benjamin alluma sa veilleuse."

Adrien turns the last worn page and sets the book beside his knee on Hugo's bed.

"What do you think, kitten? Benjamin was turtle-y being a scaredy-cat, wasn't he?"

Hugo giggles, eyes bright. "He's not a cat, Papa, he's a turtle!"

Adrien nods sagely at his son. "Right you are," he says, patting the book's cover. "If this book tortoise anything, it's that Benjamin is definitely a turtle."

The number of turtle puns in the world is finite, and Hugo has heard his dad tell them all repeatedly, but he still laughs every time. The sound is music to Adrien's ears. He grins as he leans down to tuck the duvet around Hugo's shoulders and lifts his son's dark fringe to place a kiss on his forehead.

"Can we read another story, Papa? I'm not even tired."

Hugo's big green eyes scrunch shut as he yawns widely.

"Mmhmm. I can tell. You know what?" Adrien grabs another stuffed turtle from the bookcase and tucks it in beside the Carapace plushie already cradled in Hugo's arms. "Monsieur Vert looks very tired. He was almost sleeping over there! Maybe if you hold him really, really gently, that will help him fall asleep. I'm sure Carapace is tuckered out after a long day of superheroing, too."

"He is," Hugo says, nodding. He strokes his little hand up and over Monsieur Vert's soft shell. "I'll help them, Papa."

Adrien smiles even as his chest squeezes with emotion. "I know you will, my kind-hearted kitten." He can't resist pressing another kiss to Hugo's forehead and delights in receiving a loud, smacking kiss to his own cheek in return.

The turtle lamp on the nightstand is switched off and the Carapace nightlight beside the bookshelf activates, dim light glowing green through the plastic.

"Bonne nuit, ma petite tortue."

He watches his son cuddle his turtle and Carapace close as the closing door slowly eclipses the bed in shadow from the hallway light. Leaving the door open a crack, Adrien listens for a moment as Hugo gets comfortable in his bed.

He smiles as he pads down the hall toward Emma's room to join his wife for another round of goodnight kisses for their precious kittens.

*****

"Kitty, this is getting ridiculous. How is that the only thing he wants for his birthday?" Marinette shakes her head, but her grin betrays her lack of any real annoyance.

Adrien rubs his face and groans. "I know. Believe me, I know. Can you imagine if Nino knew?"

That surprises her. "You haven't told him? I told Alya ages ago when he said Carapace was his favorite." She thinks for a moment. "I don't think I've shared the, um...depth of the obsession, though."

He stares at her, deadpan, before they both laugh.

"Turtles I could handle, Mari. They're cute. They're green." He bats his eyes at her and she swats his arm playfully. "But Carapace? Carapace? When Chat Noir is right there? I don't get it."

"Awww, Chaton. Is my kitty jealous?"

"Of course not," he says, pouting, though he can't keep up the ruse and his smile breaks through. "Okay, maybe a little."

"Nino made a wonderful hero, and is the perfect holder for Wayzz, and you know it."

She scooches closer to him on the sofa and rubs his back gently. His eyes close for just a moment before opening them to find his wife gazing at him with what might just be his favorite look in her eyes - a teasing glint, a touch of heat, and an endless well of love. Everything goes fuzzy momentarily, but he catches her next words clearly.

"Besides, my favorite hero will always be Chat Noir. Always."

"Yeah?" he breathes.

She nods.

Her eyes go wide when he hauls her petite frame from the sofa beside him and settles her across his lap. She laughs as she wraps her arms around his neck and presses a kiss to his lips.

"What a coincidence, My Lady," he murmurs into the whisper of space between them, "because my favorite hero--" He pauses, kissing her again, "is also Chat Noir."

There's a beat of silence and then she's laughing, pressing her face into the crook of his neck to muffle her giggles. His arms tighten around her shaking shoulders as he laughs along with her, swept away by the sweet sound he will always love. There's no joy in the world quite like making his wife laugh.

"You know I'm kidding, Bug," he finally whispers into her hair when their laughter subsides. "Emma and I share a favorite hero. The greatest of all. Prettiest, too. Oh, wow, is she ever beautiful. And strong. And smart."

"Rena Rouge?" Marinette asks cheekily, her nose still pressed to his neck.

"Nooooo," he croons, tickling her sides until she laughs again. "It's Ladybug, jumping above, Lady magique et lady chance!"

"Kitty, no!" she begs through her giggles, "Don't get that in my head!"

"Too late!"

He silences the last of her laughter when he captures her lips with his, twin sighs mingling in the late-night quiet of the living room.

With forever in his arms and their shared future asleep down the hall, Adrien simply loses himself in this blissful moment, forgetting that their baby will turn five next weekend, that the passage of time is as inevitable as the dichotomy of creation and destruction. Wrapped up in his wife, time seems to stop altogether. Marinette - her love, her care, their unshakeable bond - is eternal.

But of course, the clock still ticks. And when they part a few minutes later, after one last kiss and a nuzzle of her nose against his, he still has to ask.

"So we're really throwing Hugo a Carapace-themed birthday party?"

She nods. "Yep."

"And we're buying him the new Shell-ter Secret Hideout Super Bunker, complete with Carapace action figure, power-ups, costume changes, a Turtle-mobile sports car that Nino never had, and four different colored shields that he also never had?"

"There's a jet, too, for some reason. But...yep."

Adrien nods slowly, a smile spreading across his face. "He's going to love it."

"Oh, he is," she affirms, her grin matching her husband's. "And so is Uncle Nino."

He snorts a laugh and pulls her close once more, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo.

"This'll be hilarious."

Marinette smiles against his shoulder.

"Yep."

*****

Everything is green.

Their normally colorful apartment seems to have transformed into an emerald dreamscape that doubles as a turtle sanctuary.

Everything is green, and there are turtles everywhere.

Sea turtles, tortoises, turtles of all kinds - including a certain turtle-themed superhero - adorn every surface. Adrien had been surprised by the amount of Carapace party merchandise he was able to find online. He's used to the numerous Carapace items in Hugo's bedroom, pieces he's added to his collection one by one over the past year or so. But this, his best friend's face dangling from streamers, emblazoned on little party hats, is just a little weird.

He's proud, though. A little jealous, a lot amused, and very, very proud. No desperately sad, pitifully lonely teenage boy has ever found a better friend than Nino Lahiffe. He's the brother of his heart, the mellow to his anxious, the staunch protector of their little group of best friends and hero teammates. Adrien has to admit that Hugo has great taste in favorite superheroes.

Someday he'll discover that his idol is also his Uncle Nino, but today is not that day. Today, the magic and wonder still shines in his son's eyes, and it's a beautiful thing.

Adrien putters around the kitchen making last-minute preparations to the food and drink selection, making sure there are plenty of cups and plates (all printed with a Carapace action scene, of course) stacked on the island. Oddly, he couldn't find Carapace napkins to go along with the other paper goods, but Marinette had saved the day by snagging a pack of sea turtle patterned napkins that coordinated perfectly in a pinch.

He smiles at the thought of his resourceful bug, his grin widening as he hears her welcome guests at the door. This is followed by a squeal of glee when Hugo and two of his classmates run off to his bedroom to play. Adrien shakes his head, still smiling. He'll have to lure them out in a bit with snacks and the promise of gifts and cake.

It's not like he doesn't already know from several years of experience that children's birthday parties are mostly adults mingling and intermittently making sure the kids don't get into too much mischief as they play together.

He takes the spinach quiche from the oven where it was warming up and sets it on the table with the other food, rebelliously placing a black potholder with a neon green pawprint pattern under the hot ceramic dish.

A towering, tiered tray of green macarons has pride of place on the dining room table, the top half of each cookie painted to look like a turtle's shell in edible glittering gold. They look almost too pretty to eat, and the same goes for the expertly-decorated turtle cake nearby, made by Hugo's grandparents and brought straight from the bakery for his big day.

The vegetable plate is an array of green, from broccoli to peppers to celery. The party has barely begun, but the celery is already running low, thanks to Emma's clandestine snacking in the hours beforehand.

Everything is green, and Hugo loves it. And that's what it's all about, really.

*****

Adrien is on his way back from checking in on the now half dozen kids playing in Hugo's room when he hears Alya's laughter from the entryway. Clearly she's spotted the party decor. He rounds the corner to find Marinette hugging her best friend, Alya's pregnant belly only getting in the way a bit and not stopping her from throwing her arms around Marinette's shoulders.

"Sorry we're late, Mari," she says, then pitches her voice to a stage whisper. "I had to pee. Twice." She leans back from the hug and cradles her bump. "Actually, I'm just going to..." She points down the hall, and Marinette laughs.

"Go for it, Als. We've all been there."

Nino is still crouched by the door, helping his daughter out of her jacket and shoes. He just shakes his head and laughs. She races off to find her "cousins" and Nino stands, kissing Marinette on each cheek and wrapping Adrien in a hug.

Surveying the apartment over Adrien's shoulder, he claps him on the back and says, "I love what you've done with the place. Very inspired design choice."

Adrien rolls his eyes and all three of them laugh.

"Hugo is obsessed with turtles. You have no idea."

"Oh, I think he has some idea, Minou." Marinette smiles at her husband over her shoulder, linking arms with Alya when she joins them again and ushering her into the green-bedecked living room.

He glances sidelong at Nino with a sheepish grin. "This isn't too weird for you, is it? It was all Hugo's idea. He hasn't stopped talking about his 'Carapace Turtle Party' for weeks," Adrien says, air quotes included.

"Nah, mec, it's cool. Kind of flattering." Nino raises an eyebrow and laughs. "What do you think he'll say when you tell him someday?"

Adrien just shakes his head. "Probably ask if you can adopt him and be his dad instead." His smile is teasing but just a touch rueful.

Nino laughs again. "No way, man. Number one, I've already got enough kids. Number two, you're the best dad. They love you like crazy, bro. Seriously."

His chest fills with warmth. Nino is such an incredible friend. And he's right (about the last bit, at least).

"They're incredible, Nino. Being a dad is..." He trails off, unable to find the words.

"I know, dude." He claps Adrien on the shoulder. "They're a pain in the ass, but they make up for it by being totally awesome."

Nino glances around, finally spotting the table full of green food and turtle-themed treats.

"Wait. Bro. Is that a turtle cake?"

*****

"You know," Nino says a few minutes later, washing down a matcha macaron with a swig of turtle punch, "I could get used to this. It would mess with my head, but after a while--" he looks at the cup with his face on it and shrugs, "it's not so strange. Better than having my face plastered on a billboard outside the Galeries Lafayette."

Adrien groans. "Et tu, Brute? Why would you remind me of that?"

"Because I can." Nino takes another bite of macaron and nudges his best friend's shoulder, laughing.

*****

As the kids snack and carry on, Adrien finally decides it's time to let his best friend see the Carapace shrine that is his son's bedroom.

Nino takes in Hugo's completely green, turtle-filled bedroom as Adrien waits with bated breath beside him for his reaction.

It is, as usual, relatively chill.

"Little dude has good taste!"

"Indeed." Wayzz peeks from Nino's collar with a pleased smile on his face. "The turtle has always symbolized wisdom, strength, and longevity." His tiny smile widens. "I'm also partial to the color green."

Nino steps farther into Hugo's room to examine the bookcase. "I...did not know they made this much Carapace merch."

"Believe me, there's more. We have to draw the line somewhere." Adrien closes his eyes and sighs. "Although he does brush his teeth with a Carapace toothbrush."

Nino's laugh starts as a snort and builds when he spots the Carapace wastebasket beside Hugo's bed and the Carapace plushie propped against his pillow. It turns positively raucous when he sees his best friend's face.

"Holy crap, dude," he wheezes. "This is hilarious. You must be so jealous."

"I am not!"

"You totally are."

"Well--" Adrien sputters, "Marinette is, too!"

"Not as much as you are, Kitty!" she calls from the living room.

Adrien throws his hands in the air. Nino doubles over.

"Chat Noir is cool, too," he mutters, petulant.

A still-laughing Nino pats his arm consolingly. "If it makes you feel any better, Chat Noir is my favorite hero...after Rena Rouge."

That actually does make him feel better, but he's not telling Nino that. Instead, he just grins a sly half-smile at his best friend. "Good save, man."

"Hey, I know which side my bread is buttered on, mec. Don't act like you don't."

Adrien is helpless to the smile that spreads across his face.

Nino groans. "You've been married for seven years, dude. Are you ever not going to go all gooey just thinking about Marinette?"

Adrien quirks an eyebrow and glances sidelong at him. Nino nods once and pats Adrien's shoulder.

"That was a dumb question, wasn't it?"

"Yep," Marinette says from the hallway behind them.

Adrien's heart beats faster at the twinkle in her eye. He wonders how much she heard. Probably all of it - she always did have sonic hearing, but motherhood seemed to ramp it up to eleven. Not much escapes his wife.

"Time for cake and presents," she announces. "Nino, you can revel in Hugo's Carapace shrine later."

"And I will, don't you worry," Nino says with a laugh as he turns to head back to the party.

Adrien throws an arm over his best friend's shoulder and smiles brightly at Marinette.

Hugo has merch, but Adrien has a real, live Ladybug who promised eternity to her Chat Noir. He holds his own favorite superhero in his arms every night, and nothing, nothing compares to that.

*****

Surrounded by wrapping paper and bows, the birthday boy sits on the floor with one last gift in front of him. The box is taller than he is when seated, and he has to stand up on his knees to tear the paper off the top. As soon as he can see what's inside, he shouts with glee and jumps to his feet. Overjoyed, he scampers around the coffee table to his parents, first thanking Marinette with a hug and kiss, then getting swept up in Adrien's arms for a bear hug.

The fact that Hugo doesn't push away from him to return to his barely-unwrapped gift is not lost on him, nor is the fact that he abandoned it and thought to thank them first in his excitement.

Sometimes Adrien feels like he's been given so much more than he deserves. Marinette alone is a blessing beyond his imagination, but Emma and Hugo, too? It's too much and he knows it, so he holds them close and relishes every single moment like this one with his little boy hugging him tight and murmuring thanks into his neck.

A few minutes later finds Hugo examining every detail of his new treasure (after Adrien wrangled all the parts out of their plastic-encased prison).

He claps his hands when he sees that this set comes with a bonus Chat Noir action figure in addition to Carapace and his shields of many colors.

"Maman!" he cries, jubilant, holding Chat Noir above his head so she can see. "Look! It has Chat Noir! You love Chat Noir!"

Blushing, Marinette pointedly avoids looking in the direction of the two moms of Hugo's school friends who've stayed for the party but smiles widely at her son. "I do. He's my favorite superhero of all time."

Hugo nods, turning to his dad where he sits beside him on the floor, struggling to snip the tiny plastic anchors holding each piece to the cardboard backing.

"See, Papa? He's Carapace's sidekick."

"Hey!" Adrien says indignantly. He looks up from the mess of cardboard and plastic in his lap as Marinette, Alya, and Nino laugh.

Nino, best bro that he is, chimes in. "Nah, little man, Chat Noir is no one's sidekick. He's way too brave and cool for that." He grins at Hugo and points first to the Carapace action figure on the coffee table and then to Chat Noir in his hand. "They're a team. Best friends and superheroes at the same time. That's why they're so awesome."

Hugo looks at the Chat Noir figure for a long moment. "Wow," he breathes. "Chat Noir is as cool as Carapace." He says it like a revelation that's rocked his entire worldview.

Alya sniffles and Marinette hands her a tissue.

"Okay, but Ladybug is still the coolest," Emma pipes up from Hugo's other side.

All the adults besides Marinette nod. Adrien reaches around Hugo to pat Emma's back.

"You're absolutely correct, kitten."

Marinette blushes again and Alya blows her nose.

Hugo tucks Carapace into the driver's seat of the Turtle-mobile with Chat Noir beside him as his passenger, racing the sports car across the rug toward his friends so they can play with his new toys, too.

Adrien looks from his son to his own best friend, and Nino gives him a thumbs up and a grin.

*****

Later, when the dishes are washed and their living room looks slightly less like a turtle habitat, Adrien sits on the sofa with a cup of tea and watches Hugo play with his new, treasured birthday gifts. The Shell-ter Secret Hideout Super Bunker is open, its many accessories strewn around Hugo where he sits cross-legged, Carapace in his left hand and Chat Noir in his right.

"I'll protect you!" "Carapace" cries, Hugo's voice pitched to sound brave and true but still carrying his sweet child's tone.

"Thank you for keeping My Lady safe, Carapace!"

Adrien snorts a surprised laugh into his tea. "Chat Noir" speaks in a husky growl, though Hugo gives him a note of cheery confidence, as though he truly appreciates Carapace's brave deeds, as though Chat Noir can take the decisive cataclysmic swing knowing his beloved partner is safe from harm.

And honestly, Hugo has the right of it. Adrien wonders how his son could possibly know that this exact scene - with slightly different dialogue, of course - played out many times over, years before he was born.

Hugo mimics the sound of an explosion, then an "oof!" as Chat Noir falls to his back but springs up again quickly. Just as Carapace returns to Chat's side with a confident, "What can I do to help save the day, Chat Noir?", Marinette's hands snake around Adrien's shoulders from behind, surprising him.

He sets his mug on a coaster on the end table and wraps his hands around her forearms, pulling her in closer. Leaned over the back of the sofa, she nuzzles his cheek with hers before pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"I think we pulled off the dream turtle party pretty well, don't you, Chaton?"

"Oh, we turtle-y did."

Adrien delights in the huff of laughter she exhales against his cheek. That might be the most overused pun in the house, but sometimes it still lands just right. They watch Hugo play, matching grins making their cheeks press closer together.

"Looks like that was one shell of a gift, eh?"

He swoons dramatically, his head falling to the back cushion of the sofa so he looks at Marinette upside-down. "My Lady, you know what it does to me when you pun."

"Oh, I do," she says, completely unapologetic, and boops his nose.

He just has to lean up to kiss her because, well, she's so beautiful and he loves her so much and she's right there.

They break apart a moment later when they hear Emma call for Marinette from her bedroom. She plants one last upside-down kiss on his forehead and lets her hands drift slowly across his chest and shoulders as she stands.

She gives him a wry smile. "Duty calls."

"Hmmm," he hums thoughtfully, picking up his tea and taking another sip. "And here I thought her name was Emma."

Marinette groans at him as she walks away, and the sound catches Hugo's attention.

"Papa? Will you play superheroes with me?"

Of course. Always. I will never, ever be too busy for my kittens, he thinks.

"Sure, buddy," he says instead.

Finishing his tea in one big gulp, he slides from the sofa and scampers on hands and knees like a giant cat to where his son is playing. Hugo giggles at his dad's ridiculousness.

Adrien takes stock of the many accessories scattered around the play set and asks, "What are Chat Noir and Carapace up to today?"

Hugo explains the situation, the bad guy's motives, and what the heroes need to do to save Paris from disaster. Adrien listens carefully. Looking up at him with green eyes that match his own, big and wide and crinkled at the corners with his happy smile, Hugo offers the Chat Noir action figure to his dad.

"Will you be Chat Noir, Papa? He's Carapace's best friend in the world and they need to work together to save the day."

Adrien cradles the action figure in one hand and gently pats the pocket where Plagg hides with the other. His kwami presses a paw against his chest in return. Overwhelmed, all he can do is grin at Hugo and try not to cry.

"It would be my greatest honor," he vows grandly, holding up a hand in oath. "I purr-omise to be the best hero I can be. Cat's honor."

Hugo laughs. "You said honor twice."

"So I did. That's because it's very important."

His son nods solemnly, then reaches for Carapace's super jet. He places the hero in the cockpit and flies the jet around his head, making zooming noises.

"Are you ready, Chat Noir? I'm coming to pick you up!"

The jet has only one seat, but that doesn't seem to bother Hugo. Adrien readies the tiny plastic baton in Chat Noir's hand and uses it to vault from his own knee into the imaginary sky over Paris.

"Meow-velous!" he crows, delighted. "This cat is ready to be whiskered away in your very realistic jet! Allons-y, my turtle friend!"

Hugo giggles, Adrien's heart melts, and they set off on a grand adventure together.

[stardusttkachuk]

Santa’s Workshop

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: fluff, swearing,

Summary: JJ picks up a holiday job, working as one of Santa’s elves. He doesn’t expect to meet another elf there, but isn’t disappointed in who he’ll be working with all season.

A/N: This is day 1 of starduststarkey’s 12 days of Christmas. Find other fics in my masterlist

Wanna be tagged? click here!

“You look fucking ridiculous,” John B says as JJ stands in front of the broken full length mirror that JB picked up from a junkyard.

“At least I have a job, asshat.” He fixes his hat on his head, grimacing at the way the tights hug his body. He’s uncomfortable in every place imaginable and is already dreading the 5 hour shift.

“Maybe if you’re a good elf, Santa will bring you a girlfriend this year!” Pope teases.

“You better shut the fuck up before this elf beats you to a pulp,” JJ threatens, fists raised.

Pope laughs. “I don’t think elves are supposed to be getting in fist fights.”

JJ huffs and rolls his eyes. Pope is right. He can’t show up to this job covered in bruises, that would scare the kids even more than he probably already will.

“Will you please drive me?” He asks John B. 

“Maybe you should ask Santa for a car,” John B says, grabbing the keys to the Twinkie.

“Why do you think I even took this job in the first place? Please. I don’t want to be seen in public like this.”

You set your bag in the provided cubby, checking your phone one last time before your scheduled session. When you had signed up to be one of Santa’s elves at the local mall, you were ecstatic. You and your best friend had been doing this for the last two years. But this year, your best friend ditched you for the hot chocolate stand. Really she ditched you for the cute girl who worked at the hot chocolate stand, and now you were stuck working with some kid named JJ Maybank. You crossed your fingers in hopes that he wasn’t some loser like the guy they hired last season.

“Santa arrives in 10 minutes! You better be out there in 5!” Natasha, the showrunner of Santa’s Workshop yells through the improvised locker and changing room. “Where’s your other elf?”

You shrug. “I don’t know. He hasn’t shown up yet.”

“Well when he gets here tell him he’s a dead man if he isn’t here 15 minutes prior to his shift.” She storms out, clipboard in hand. 

The first day is always one of the craziest. Things don’t settle down until a few weeks in. And by the time they do settle down, it’s already the week before Christmas and they get crazy again. 

“Hi. I’m JJ Maybank. I think this is where I’m supposed to be?” You hear someone say, likely talking to the nutcracker that’s posted outside the green room.

“In there. Find Y/N. You’ll know it’s her because she’ll be dressed just like you.”

You roll your eyes. At least he showed up. Ten minutes late but he did make it.

He passes through the curtains, blonde hair a mess under his elf hat. You’ll have to remind him to brush it before he arrives. You have an extra brush in your bag, but you know you won’t have time to make it look perfect.

He spies you easily, strutting towards you. “I’m JJ. Are you Y/N?” 

“That’s me. You’re late, by the way.”

JJ looks at his watch, eyes wide and mouth agape. “I’m five minutes early! That’s the earliest I’ve been for any job!”

“Natasha’s rules state all workshop employees must be present 15 minutes prior to their shift.”

JJ rolls his eyes. “It’s only ten minutes.”

“And if it happens again, you’re a dead man. So you better be here 15 minutes early next time.”

“Okay but why 15? Aren’t we just sitting around those 15 minutes until our shift starts?”

“It’s for costume malfunctions. Like your hair. It needs to be brushed. If you had been here 10 minutes earlier, maybe we would’ve had time to brush it and make it look better.”

“My hair looks fine,” JJ grumbles, though he does attempt to smooth down the ends with his hands. 

You lead him over to the cubby next to yours, gesturing to it. “Put your stuff in here. And that includes your phone.”

JJ places both his phone and wallet into the cubby. He then takes his jacket off and puts it on top of the two valuable items.

“No one is going to steal your stuff, if you’re worried about that. This place is heavily monitored,” you say. “And no one but Santa’s crew is allowed back here anyway.”

JJ is about to speak when an elderly woman with white hair tucked under her hat enters the room. “Looks like Mrs. Claus has arrived,” he jokes.

“That’s Natasha.” You grab JJ’s hand, pulling him out to Santa’s corner before Natasha has a chance to yell at him for his tardiness.

“So what exactly do we do?” JJ whispers, eyeing the line of children and their parents that seems to wrap around the entire display.

“We help the kids from their parents to Santa’s lap and then back out to their parents again. And don’t forget the candy cane before they leave.”

JJ grimaces. “You mean we have to interact with the kids?”

“Yes. Now smile and act like an elf,” you say.

“How do- ohf!” JJ grunts as you elbow him and immediately reach forward for the hand of a little girl.

“Hi! I’m elf Y/N! And this is my friend elf JJ! What’s your name?” You ask in a high pitched voice. 

“I’m Sophie,” she beams. She grasps onto JJ’s hand and you have to bite your lip to keep from laughing at the face he makes. It’s clear he isn’t a fan of kids and you can’t wait to watch him interact with them for the next 30 days.

JJ pulls his booties on over the tights, chuckling to himself as the bells jingle. They jingle every time he walks. He’s grown so used to the sound now though. He’s grown used to looking absolutely ridiculous in his costume. He’s even grown used to the kids, which he thought was impossible.

But the way Y/N smiles when he coos at a baby or holds onto a preschoolers hand has helped him get over his dislike of the kids. He’d do just about anything to see her smile.

“Ready?” John B asks from the doorway, keys looped around his finger.

“Actually a friend is picking me up,” JJ says, grabbing his phone and wallet.

“What friend? You don’t have any friends besides us.”

“Well that’s very rude of you to think. I have plenty of friends. And her name is Y/N. We work together.”

“Work together or sleep together? Or both. Do you guys like, get it on in the costumes?”

“Ew, no,” JJ scoffs.

“Okay, you know elves is somebody's kink,” John B adds, shuddering as he does.

“I didn’t want to know that. I don’t want to think about that.”

“Okay but Y/N… you like her.”

“No. We’re just friends. We’re coworkers. We work the same shift and she offered to give me a ride, okay? Now can you make yourself disappear before she gets here? I don’t want her seeing your face.”

John B pouts. “Why not? I have a very likable face.”

“Just… please?” JJ asks, but it’s too late. 

The beat up Ford truck pulls up in front of the house. JJ knows it’s hers. On days when they work late and it’s dark outside by the time they leave, he walks her to her car. They once spent two extra hours after work sitting in her car and talking. She even gave him a ride home once, but he made her drop him off down the street. It was too risky for her to pull up to his actual house, especially if his dad was home. 

JJ knows John B is in the doorway when he exits the house. He watches as Y/N waves, a courteous smile on her face. JJ walks to the passenger side, hearing the familiar squeak of the old door.

“Who’s that?”

“John B. He’s my best friend.”

“He’s dating Sarah Cameron right?” she asks.

“Yeah. You know Sarah?”

“Everyone on this island knows Sarah,” Y/N laughs. JJ knows she’s not wrong. Everyone did know the Cameron's, especially after the huge scandal that went down last summer. People don’t typically forget about a murder and stealing of millions of dollars worth in gold.

“Right,” JJ laughs nervously. 

You tear your elf hat off as soon as you reach your truck. Today was a hard shift. Multiple crying kids, lines that wrapped all around the mall, parents who didn’t understand the concept of patience and waiting, and then there was the kid that peed on Santa Claus and made everyone wait even longer while Santa went to change. It was a nightmare. 

If it wasn’t for JJ, today would’ve been the day you quit.

But he insisted on stopping for dinner before you dropped him off, so here you were, sitting at a booth across from him, the both of you still clad in your elf costumes.

You probably looked ridiculous but you didn’t care. JJ was your sole focus tonight. He let you vent to him about the craziness of the day and when you weren’t talking he was telling you about the funniest wishes he had overheard while on candy cane duty. 

“All their missing socks?” You laugh, hand covering your mouth.

JJ nods, laughing harder. “He-He couldn’t understand why the dryer monster needed his socks more than him. He even asked if-if monsters were on the naughty list!” JJ bursts out laughing, as do you. If there was one thing that could cheer you up, it was this.

“Kids got a point,” you giggle. “Why does the dryer monster only take one sock and not both? Do you think he only has one leg?”

JJ nods, his smile wide. “Yeah, instead of one eye he’s got one leg.”

Your laughs die down slowly, but you can’t wipe the smile off your face. The smile that was forced all throughout the day was now a real one.

“I’ve missed that smile,” JJ says, reaching his hand across the table.

You blush but take his hand without hesitation, lacing your fingers through his.

JJ nervously clears his throat. “Do you think when this is all over, I can take you on an actual date?”

You’re not sure your smile could get any wider. “I’d like that.”

You both stare at each other for a while longer, before JJ can’t wait anymore. “I’m going to kiss you now,” he says, leaning over the table.

“I’d like that too,” you respond, meeting him halfway.

Tags: @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @serpentbaby @etoilesnoor @k-k0129 @maybanksbaby @talksoprettyjjx @canibeoneofthepogues @multifixx  @theonetheonlyalexbrown @glux64 @shy-1234 @sleepyhollands @cognacdelights @ilovejjmaybank @blueeyedbesson @cheshirecat107 @myrandom-fandomlife @makebank @ifilwtmfc @obxmxybxnk  @kookkyra @rafej-cambanks @blindedbypeaky @ahiae @repostcentral @midnightzonzz @blxndeprincess @dracosbbygorl @itsagurl @Poguesinablanket @amandaburris @tovvaa @sunnsettee

[likesomekindofcheese]

Promised Part Five (The Great Mini-series, Arranged Marriage AU)

A/N: Here it finally is!!!! Sorry it took forever, life happens.

Word Count: 4K

Summary: When the Emperor’s behavior gets your families alliance with Russia in danger, you agree to marry his best friend Grigor in order to make sure the alliance does not fall apart. You’re tossed into the Russian court and into the arms and bed of a Russian count, dodging his jealous ex lover, trying to survive the unpredictability.... but...what about yuou two? Are you and Grigor finally...feeling something for each other?

Warnings: Swearing, drunkeness, mentions of sex and nudity, marriage, and an in universe reference I couldn’t resist.

“Come here Sonya! Come here!” Lady Svenska cooed, wiggling her fingers.

The puppy trotted to her and she squealed in delight.

Tatiana bent her knees, her lime green dress bunching below her like icing on a cake as she did.

“Sonya! Sonya come!” she gestured.

With a happy trot, Sonya waddled over. She reached up, her tiny tail wagging.

“Oooo, good girl! Good girl!”

You had been invited to a tea party with the other ladies. Although you had gotten closer to the empress, you feared if they would see you as an enemy. Especially hearing of Catherine’s last tea party with them. So walking in, you brought your secret weapon. And it worked.

The only woman it seemed who was not having the time of her life with what was happening was Georgiana. Dressed in her purple gown and largest wig, she sat a little slumped on the couch. She was sipping her tea every now and then but crossing her arms. She stared daggers at the dog and how it trotted. She preferred any small circle that came over to obsess over the latest scandalous affair, but even then she kept one eye on Sonya as if the dog was a wolf ready to attack. She didn’t dare say a word to you. And you didn’t say a word to her. But if there was nothing said, then nothing bad could happen.

Smiling, you helped yourself to a red macaroon, delighting in the crunch and cream of it’s taste. Lady Svenska walked over to you and asked.

“Can she do tricks?” she questioned.

“Almost. She’s getting better at walking. She used to pull and run a lot, but she’s better at being obedient.”

“And she doesn’t tear things up?” she asked.

“Only sometimes. I have to watch where my dresses are stored,” you answered.

“Ah! She’s such a good dog! How lovely of you to bring her here, Madame Dymov!”

Georgiana’s eyes went dark.

“Will you come to our ball throwing this evening! It is most fun! Mine might go another inch!”

“I’d be delighted to! And be sure to tell me more about that maid with the baron old enough to be her grandfather too! And with copous details!” you added on.

“Oh! I do like you! And what of the Empress?”

“Well, we read. And we chat…”

“But all that reading!? Isn’t it time consuming!”

“A little. Her books can take time. I reread pages over and over…but in the best way. I suppose. It keeps her happy.”

“If you have any gossip about her, please share!”

“I..I, uh, will!” you promise.

“First of all, have you any plans or gifts to give her on her birthday, it’s coming up in about a month!”

“Hmm, I don’t know…” you mumbled.

At that moment your husband entered the room. He seemed a little uncomfortable with all of the flowers and pastel dresses, eyeing birds singing ditties in shiny cages and macaroons piled to his chest on platters.

“Oh, Y/N…where is Y/N?” he asked to one lady in a pink dress and grey wig.

She pointed in your direction and he smiled.

As he walked by, he passed the couch where Georgiana was sitting. Her shoe tapped his calf and he turned.

“Hello, Grigor…” she said with a faded grin.

“Hello, George,” he replied politely. Somehow, your blood felt hot. But yet, the marriage was over, so what if they even talked? He probably just enjoyed you talking with him and occasionally sleeping with him. But no, they had to be soulmates. And it was better not to disturb them. After all, despite the suddenness of the marriage, it would work. He would be happy.

“How is the party?” he asked, hands placed behind the back.

“Going perfect. We’re being introduced to the loud, hairy creature that lifts her leg when she pisses. Her dog is there too.” She quipped with a surprisingly relieved smile.

You froze. Little Sonya recognized Grigor and ran up to him, oblivious to how white his face was turning. A few fans were spread, and you barely heard feminine whispers of “…quite bitchy…” It got a little quiet. Even with the string quartet in the back was playing at a piano as if they wanted to hear what would happen next to.

Getting up, you turned around to leave them alone. Let them take it out. Let him laugh, Let her smile. Maybe even fuck against the wall like you noticed the odd couple doing on a night of reveling in the palace, no matter who might see or hear.

“George. I can’t control what you do on your own. But when you are with me, you will not speak about my wife in that matter.”

Pausing, you turned around. A couple quiet tears fell down your cheeks.

“You’re an esteemed lady of the court with the world at your fingertips. She’s a poor creature thrown into an arranged marriage, stolen from another country, and little to never to see any of her family or friends again while you just lay down and let Peter put fruit in your pussy and drink champagne.”

Wiping away tears with your hands, you stood still, not sure what to say. Grigor continued, truly angered and passionate.

“I didn’t marry her because of you. And she didn’t marry me so she could have my cock when you couldn’t. I did this so that we all- we all-“ he gestured to the people in the room “won’t be fucking ripped apart by Swede’s in a fortnight thanks to her families army. You will show her what little compassion you have in your tiny heart. You could even show her an ounce of gratitude for the sacrifice she and I made for the safety of everyone here, including yours. Or else I could have said no and let the swedes stab you in your tits when you’re asleep in the emperor’s bed. And I wouldn’t lose a wink of sleep over it too. But I did.”

She froze. There was even a couple of gasps.

Scooping the tiny dog in his arms, he turned ot you promptly.

“I hope you’re enjoying yourself.”

“I…I am…” you answered. “But I’m tired, let’s go home and play cards.”

“I agree.”

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

 A week later, Grigor had partied so much with the Emperor last night, wrestling and playing with some man named Leon or whoever. You peaked in the door, and yawning, retired to your own apartments to sleep even if alone.

Waking up briefly in the grey air, you felt him crawling into bed at four in the morning. So you let him sleep in as you took Sonya on her morning walk. Besides, she would pout and whine if you didn’t walk at her certain time.

“Here you go, I know, Papa can’t be there-but I will,” you assured the dog.

You made your way through the halls into the gardens. Sonya was already getting bigger. The collar and leash made for her a while ago was getting snug on her fluffy body.

Enjoying the forest, you heard the rhythmic crunch of the leaves and sticks beneath Sonya’s prancing paws. The cold air stung your lungs in the best way. The sky looked clear and crisp.

Sonya pointed her snout in one direction. She began pulling and barking.

“What is it? Some sort of creature!” you thought, walking forward.

It wasn’t a mouse of squirrel, there was a person slumped against a tree, sitting on the dirt. Walking closer, you made out a dark green skirt and a hat, but a head of dark, curly hair made loose. She reeked of vodka and beer. Her face was pale to where she seemed ill, rather than the lovely cream color of her skin. And beneath her eyes there were several bags.

“G..Georgiana…”

She turned her head to you, squinting.

“Yes…” she grunted.

“What are you doing here?”

She began to laugh a little, bitterly.

“I could ask the same…what are you doing here?”

“I’m walking Sonya…she needs to be exercised so she won’t get into trouble from being bored,” you explained, gripping the leash.

“Huh, I know sometimes…sometimes Grigor goes with you…” her voice was deep and throaty, far from her usual speaking tone. As if every word was choked up.

She seemed so pitiful you didn’t have the heart to chafe her.

“Yes, yes he does…”

Her exhausted eyes wandered forward into the grove of trees. She kept speaking to you.

“Sometimes we’d walk together. Only if it was nice. We did everything together. Walking. Eating. Dancing. Bathing together. Did you know…I even got my portrait painted and he kept it in his room! Right next to his bed…he…he cared for me so much to where I was right there with him every morning even when I wasn’t next to him and now…now he hates me…”

She began to sniffle, and a few tears worked up.

“No. No, I don’t think he hates you at all…”

“Why did he speak to me that way?”

“He just…he got emotional. And he has been emotional because he loves you. He’s every bit as sad as you are for not marrying…”

Sonya walked over to the crying woman. Alerted by the sounds, she walked over and sniffed at her wet face. She broke out  a smile.

“But the truth is…in this court, there’s plenty of women who’ve fucked Peter. More than half. That’s just a fact of life. But I… I love it. I love having men want me, being worshipped, loved, is that wrong?”

“It’s normal,” you admitted. “it’s normal to want to be loved.”

“And the things it gives you. It’s not the least bad. I have all sorts of things. Dresses. Hats. A high position in court. Security. Comfort. Occasionally I can change laws and save lives with just a word-imagine that! And jewels. Jewels I used to dream of having. And I get to enjoy making love to a man who’s skilled at it. It might be the only way for a woman here to move up. That’s the way it is, is that wrong? Is it wrong to enjoy fucking and love a man too? For them to be separate men? They do it all the time and no one bats an eye bit when I do…”

She finally fell down into sobs.

“And he just...he couldn’t accept it. He claimed he loved me, and I… I love him, I still do, he just couldn’t accept me as I am and this world as it is…I thought he knew me…and that I knew him…”

She began to cry more; Sonya reached over and began to lick her face. She laughed at the ridiculous feeling of a dog’s tongue right on your nose and you began to laugh too.

“Georgiana…I’m so sorry I yelled at you that first day…I saw you as a threat and didn’t stop to think what you would feel. How I would feel if I was in your shoes…”

“Ugh, you’re…you’re as saccharine as…as…I don’t even know, Y/N. I’d put you in my…my mouth and my blood would rush, and they’d have to let it out with slugs.”

Taking out a handkerchief, you began to wipe her tears from her face.

“I’m not the one in tears…but…he used to keep a portrait of you…” you questioned.

“He did…is it there? Maybe….”

“Not anymore…” you explained flatly.

So that explained the circular area on the wall next to the bed.

“I know you really do love Grigor. And you care for him…but loving someone is hard. I love my family and friends back home, or unless I wanted to make all of them suffer or even get killed, I had to let them go to come here…sometimes, there are things you have to let go and move on from…” you assured her. You aren’t a bad person for wanting those things. You’re a smart person for figuring out how to get them. I admire you for it.”

“I just keep wondering…I keep wondering what would happen if he said yes…if he agreed to the terms…we’d be so happy…”

And he would see you with Peter and be miserable. Then god knows what would happen you thought.

You took her arm and helped her to her shaky legs.

“But there’s no use in that. Here, let’s get you back to the palace. I think after you get some water and some sleep, you might feel better…”

“But Y/N, Grigor I think…he’s in denial how Peter works here. If a woman needs anything in court, and if Peter picks you…he picks you. And, well, there’s nothing you can do about it…”

Your stomach lurched.

    “Grigor might want a faithful wife. He might’ve thought he got that with you but…defying the Emperor is a risk. Too huge. Why say no? After all, he’s a genius at fucking so it could be worse…”

“You need water, Georgiana. And you need to clean up. Then you’ll feel better…” you interrupted, trying to mother her away and ignoring the fear in your gut.

 But as you were strolling later in the week, returning from another one of the Empresses’s private discussions, you saw a few ladies eye down at the book. Perhaps they judged you. Perhaps they were jealous. But one bespecaled face saw you, smiled, and then hurried up.

“Orlo! How are you?”

“Y/N-er-Madame Dymov! Enough about me already- I heard the Empress gave you a copy of the Rousseau! What do you think!?” he asked excitedly.

His dark eyes glittered at the book in your hands. Holding it up to him you let him inspect it.

“I was…I was shocked at first. His ideas felt like…like a blast of cold wind. But I…he made good points. And I found myself agreeing after some time…” you explained with a shrug.

“He’s one of my favorites, and tehre’s so much…so much inside there. But I…I wish I could explain it all…”

“Let’s go to my place, I’ll call for a plate...” you offered with a shrug and a smile.

Introducing him to the drawing room, he settled down shyly on the seat in front of the fire. You brought in some tea with a strawberry cake and wound up talking for a straight hour. He got his own turn to pet on little Sonya as she licked his fingers from the cake crumbs. You discussed Rousseau, then he went on to talk about Voltaire, Plato, Paine. Ideas stretched you and you found yourself talking about things you could never imagine debating about with anyone. About people. Power. Faith. Life. Death. Purpose, if there was one at all. Your cup became cold and you had to reheat it by pouring some liquid into it.

Orlo glowed as he explained it all. He was not condescending. In fact, it felt like being in school with  a good teacher. You understood and appreciated it even more. You were amazed with the depth of knowledge he had. Beneath his mousy exterior, there was a brilliant mind. Perhaps even genius. You were amazed in him. Strands of his hair loosened out and he smiled more, seeming relaxed and confident. Far more confident than you ever knew him to be in public.

“But out of all of them, I think my favorite is…”

The door creaked as it opened.

His head turned and you saw Grigor walking in. His face was pink, and his eyebrows crossed.

“Hello Orlo, what are you doing with my wife?” he asked, his lips tight and his voice firm.

“I, uh…” he found himself blubbering. His posture slouched and his hands retreated.

Standing at once, you walked up to Grigor with as much poise as you could.

“The empress gifted me with a book and Orlo was asking me about it over tea, nothing more…” you explained plainly.

“It’s fascinating. Isn’t it!” you added, throwing back a look.

Orlo nodded shyly, getting out of the seat like it had spikes.

“Very.”

“Oh, alright…” Grigor replied quietly.

Once Orlo thanked you for hosting him and shuffled out, Grigor’s eyes never left his steps.

 He was quiet over dinner. You had to ask questions about his day and have Sonya’s begging fill the silence. Later, you changed into your nightgown to see Grigor was already in bed.

You saw him curl up to the other side. Not turning around, holding the blanket over his shoulders and leaving your side disproportionally cold.

With a huff, you placed your hands on your hips.

“What is it?” You had a guess, but you wanted to hear it from him.

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong” he said in a tone that said something was definitely wrong.

“What is it…tell me…” you wheedled, sitting on the bed and leaning closer to him.

He turned around.

“I understand we agreed to follow orders to marry. Not for us. Our countries, the safety of your family and for their workers and tenets to not go hungry, for protection, the alliance, and for Russia to succeed against the Swedes… but I know you didn’t choose to marry me…if you…if you…are in love… then I guess it would make it easier…but you will at least be honest with me and not play around when you fall in love with some man!”

“In love? With Orlo?!” you added.

His head snapped back at the sound of his name.

“If you love the prick, then that’s fine! It will make you bear being here better- it’s all fine!” He if it will make you bear this, bear being married to me…”

“I’m not in love with Orlo!” you laughed, placing a hand on his shoulder. He flinched a little, but didn’t turn away.

“What…you aren’t? Both of you always talk together.”

 “I always talk with the empress, and Tatyana and everyone else too. They’re my friends. He’s my friend as well… and…I…I promised you I won’t hurt you. That I will do my best not to hurt you…and you’re obviously hurt…” you reasoned.

The clock chimed the hour in the back.

“I…yes, I was…I had memories of when…you know…” he muttered out, looking down.

You folded your arms and turned away from him.

“Well, have you ever kissed Georgiana since our marriage? I guess you can run back to her, like I’m apparently running to Orlo. Should I be worried about her?”

“Uh-no! Not at all! We’ve barely talked since the betrothal! I talk more to Sonya than I do to her in a fortnight!” he said, pointing to the dog curled asleep on her pillow.

You crossed your arms and started to laugh a little. A smile cracked on his thin face as well.

“If I have no reason to suspect you of anything with George, you have no reason to suspect anything of me and Orlo!” you reasoned with a shrug.

Leaning forward, you pulled more of the cover to your side. He relented.

 Both of you were tense. Words left your voice.

“Just dinner and drinks with your friend, nothing more. Perfectly normal.” You assured.

Even if it meant eating in his chambers with large portraits all over the wall and a big green bed on the other side. Peter stood up and greeted you both. His arms were wide, pearls dangling from his neck.

“Ah, hello! Join me!” Peter cheered. “Grigor-make yourself at home! There’s already some food.

You carefully walked in, placing yourself on the couch and folded your hands in front of your lap. Unsure of what to do or say. A finger nudged you.

“Here, Y/N…here’s the seat for you!” your husband said, taking his large hands around your waist and picking you up as you let out a smile.

Grigor placed you on his lap, like he did on your wedding. Smiling, you accepted the feeling of him nearby and settled your weight. The closeness far more natural than ever. Grigor’s arms were warm as they passed dishes around from one man to the Emperor. A serf poured a Kiev vdoka and you enjoyed yourselves.

“I tell you- fucked a horse! It’s just a rumor-but can you believe it!” he said.

Laughing in spite of yourself, you shook your head insisting “no, I don’t!”

Smiling. Laughing. Everything felt normal. You laughed so hard you almost snorted your drinkand covered your mouth, laughing more at the dirtier humor. Years ago, your mother would have become so uncomfortable at such words she would excuse herself and complain about it later. Laughs held back were finally released, you jaw uhrt and your cheeks felt hot.

“And that’s what hapoens when you use the duck whistle on the balcony-“Oh, Grigor! Have I fucked your wife yet?”

The drink you were sipping almost spat out of your mouth and you coughed it out. Both of you froze again. You felt Grigor tense up. His breath quickened. His face turned white and then red and then white again. His jaw clenched and his nostrils flared.

Turning your head back, you began to give a charming smile at the emperor, even giving the little half smile you noticed to do. You decided if the subject came up, you would be prepared.

“Your highness, of yes, of course we’ve fucked. Several times!” you said.

Where he couldn’t see, you kicked Grigor’s leg to alert him.

“Oh, really!” he said.

“Ah! What a Casanova you are, Emperor! Losing track! But…”

You circled the rim of your glass, and then added on.

“I have an eternally dry pussy, can’t suck cock to save my life, and an ass so tight that deflects any object near the hole so it’s been rather disappointing. It’s a miracle my husband tolerates me. He’s hardly been able to finish the job!”

He tilted his head, pondering it with a hmmmm. Glancing at Grigor, you quickly mouthed “play along.” His eyes bright, he nodded at you, and then to the Emperor in agreement.

“Yes! Fucking Y/N is a total disappointment. Remember her place? They’re boring, plain people even when fucking.”

Peter nodded in agreement, his eyes up to the sky as if thinking about the fake experience. Not that it was to think.

“Humph. I…I think you’re right. It was disappointing. Grigor, if you need me to order you a whore, let me know.”

You kept your hand on his and you saw his eyes dart in confusion and realization, his brain thinking a hundred thoughts.

“Please pour me another drink…” you said, holding your cup to a serf.

“Besdies, Catherine…she’s been having all these ideas about art. And I saw a portrait and I…I cried! I fucking cried-can you believe it? I never knew she could..could even make me feel like that!”

 As you left the chambers, you squeezed his hand. Both of you let out a breath and continued some nervous laughter until you were both home.

“That was brilliant!” He praised, sinking in relief in the chair. There was already a fire crackling, drawing warmth into the chilly room.

“I knew he would bring it up, soon. So, I might as well. Now you don’t have to worry about anything…at least for now…” you said with a shrug.

“Oh, but the party tomorrow…you’ll be careful. I think people will be very merry and he might…get carried away…”

“Just give him a galloon a vodka then, he’ll won’t be able to stand.”

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

As the party the next night raged on, it struck you that it was Grigor who was well on his way to drinking a gallon of vodka. The rooms glowed yellow orange with all of the candles. Stringed guitars played out dancing tunes with throaty Russian lyrics where although the words were hard to understand, you had to tap your toes. Women walked by with snakes draped over their necks and you stared in frightened awe at the creature, as if in Eden. Your own gown was a pale pink with bows on the stomacher, a ruffled skirt beneath the first one, and you hair done up in flowers and feathers. You even agreed to wear a beauty mark of a small dog on your cheek. Girgor himself had a grey wig and his finest, deep green suit. He eyed plates of vodka, reaching for two small glasses and downing them…and supper would be served in an hour.

You noticed and Empress and Emperor dancing. She swished her pale pink skirt and he twirled in a black skirt, carefree. It was almost like watching a fight, how they were both powerful yet matched each other.”

“Come on, you sad bastards!? Why aren’t you dancing!? Dance! I command you!” Peter cried out in joy.

“Y/N! Y/N- we haven’t danced too much-let’s dance! Dance with me!” Grigor insisted, pulling you further down.

“Grigor, that’s the vodka talking!”

The musicians were warming up for the next piece in the corner.

“I…I don’t know the…” you mumbled in a panic as other couples filled the floor.

“Oh no-just follow me!” He said with a big smile and his face flushed.

  Still you ran out with him, mimicking hand movements and your feet trying to keep up with the steps. If you felt him leading you somewhere, you followed. If you sepearted in lines, you kept an eye on him.

“Girgor…do the trick! The trick!” Peter insisted, running up in the middle.

Eyes wide, you saw your husband grab hold of your body.

“Here. Y/N! I can do it- hold on! Jump up.

He lifted you up in his arms and twirled you up, his arms adjusting to hold you up so that he held you up by your legs, your stomach to his face. You could hear him muffling beneath your clothes.

“We need smof practif…”

But Peter laughed and you heard loud applauding as faces turned to look at you. Even George’s own face had a smile, albeit a sad one.

He set you down.

“Let’s try it again, put your leg on my shoulder…now your other leg..ooof! Now, this one is better!”

He lifted you up so high, you realized you were on his shoulders, and emabarrasingly his head was near your crotch. The court applauhded and laughed and huzzahed. It was so fun you almost forgot your fear of being dropped. you laughed as you held onto his shoulders for deaer life, thrilled to see everyone smaller before you. As if they dhrunk or you became a giant. The chandeliers dripping with diamonds were easy to your touch, your fingertips grazed one as Grigor walked in a circle.

“Ha! I knew you could do it good chap!” Peter applauded before asking.

Grigor placed you down with a smile, he placed his hands on your cheeks and for a moment you thought he was going to kiss you, then his eyes wandered to some vodka and he took another shot.

 He was singing as the party ended late in the night. You struggled to support him over your shoulders.

“Grigor…be careful…”

Once you got into the room, Sonya woke up from her nap and barked, jumping at your feet. Staggering, you brought him to your bedchambers.

“Let’s get your clothes off…” you said, pulling his coat off and placing it on the floor.

“You wish to see me naked, you could’ve asked, darling…”

Sighing, you poured the hot water into the golden tub.

“If you don’t bathe, then you’re sleeping with Sonya…”

He leaned down in his shift and breeches to the wagging tail beneath him.

“Oh….hello doggie, cute doggie…good doggie…”

“To bath, Grigor!”

Eventually, you got him to bathe enough to where he didn’t reek of alcohol. Once he dried off, you pushed his breeches onto him.

“None of that tonight with you drunk off your head!”

“Can’t I at least kiss you?” he complained childishly.

“Fine, but it stops at kissing!”

Once you finally settled within your own sheets, legs and feet sore from dancing, you barely put the blankets over you when  you felt two large arms wrap themselves around you and hug you tight, pulling you close. He laughed a bit before kissing you on top of your head. You smirked and let him obloge. Then you felt him relax.

“Y/N, I love you….”

You froze solid, your stomach dropping.

“What?”

He took a hand and placed it on your cheek again, before it sloppily fell down.

“Y/N, my sweet angel…I love you…”

Shaking your head, you pulled the covers above you both.

“That’s the vodka talking, now go to sleep….”

He went back to holding you, turning you so that your back was turned to him, you felt and smelt his breath as he kept speaking.

“I love you, Y/N. I’m falling in love with you this minute and…I’m fucking terrified…”

You let his arms settle.

“Don’t wanna…get hurt, get shat on…but every day I’m….falling more in love with you…and it makes me both so happy and scared I could fucking scream…that was why Orlo fucking scared me, and Peter, that wonderful, bastard. I love him, but if he lays a hand on you, I swear to god…”

“Grigor…you need to sleep. You’re drunk. Only time will wear it off.”

Besides, it was better to not get your hopes up.

‘I can’t believe I’m fucking falling in fucking love all over again…never thought after George that I would….never would let myself…thought ”

“But Grigor…you….”

“I’d like to see you…see you happy. See your smiling face before I sleep.”

You gave him a small smile and his eyes fluttered shut.

“Grigor…do you…do you love me….do you really love me…”

You gave him a small smile. He then rolled on his belly, spread like a starfish. He was snoring deeply in minutes.

“Because I think I’m falling in love with you too…” you wanted to say.

taglist:  @retropetalss @queenlover05 @joesleee   @grigorlee@itsametaphorgwil @always-a-fairycat @foxinaforestofstars @simonedk @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @queenlover05 @xviiarez @kiainspace @gwilymleeisbae @writeroutoftime @staradorned @iwritefanficnotprophecies @panagiasikelia @marshmxllowfluf @rhapsodyrecs @sebastiistan​ @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @gwiilymslee @isitstraightvodka​ @cherry--coke​

[pyraffin-drgo]

All Heavy interactions in Poker Night at the Inventory.

For you to interpret however you wish.

Video Version

(They have [bootleg movies] in your country?) "I like movies, yes." (Yeah, like what? [Lists movies]?) "No. My favorite are The Dirty Dozen and the first twenty minutes of Rocky four."

(We can talk Tetris?) "Hmmph. Tetris is baby game." (Tetris Attack keeps it hood!) "Why does everybody think I love this Tetris? It is just stacking!"

"[To Strongbad] Tiny Heavy." (What is it?) "Do you get the nightmares?" (I get the jibblie nightmares. [Describes silly nightmare, shivers].) "I am talking about the visions of endless suffering. Dead doctors everywhere. Spy can not be found. (No, but that sounds like the Jibblies.) "I do not like these 'jibblies.'"

"Strong and bad. How is boxing career?" (These. Are. My. HANDS!) "I was boxer, once. In school. We have to either box or learn to herd goats." Silence, looking concerned. "I am not good with goats..." (Too much information, man.) "At first, I do not like punching other boys... But then I learn to love it." Punches his palm menacingly.

(Find any rare drops lately?) "I do not understand." (When you get a kill, you get a present?) "When I get kill, I get honor of team." Smile drops. "Sometimes... I also get nightmares. A man does not go home to his wife and children." (So, no loot?) "Oh! You mean hat! Yes, I love hats! Sometimes, I get these. They are the best."

(Hey, Heavy. You know any hot Russian spies?) "I hate spies." (But you gotta have the inside line on some deadly minxes.) "You want hot spy?" (Am I not wrestle man?) "I have friend who gets you a hot spy. (Get em on the two-way, man!) "His name is Pyro." (Tycho, to Strongbad: The spy is hot because it is on fire.) (Oh...)

"[To Tycho] What do you do with life?" (Me?) "Yes. What is possible with tiny, frail body?" (I occupy myself with simulations... of various kinds.) "What is these?" (Struggles to explain.) (Strongbad: He lives in his parent's basement.)

(So, is there a Mrs. Weapons Guy?) "No. Sasha is my only love." (Sasha kills people, I presume?) "No." (Oh?) "WE kill people."

"[To Strongbad] Maybe you and I box?" (I can't risk my beautiful face, it's the franchise.) "We spar. For fun." (I don't think so.)

"Strong and bad. You wrestle? With mask?" (No, I'm a wrestle man, not those hack wrestle-LERS.) "Not like Iron Sheik?" (No, Iron Stake is a LER.) Heavy nods. "Hmm. This is too bad."

(So how long you been with those Team Fortress fellas?) "I do not understand." (The game's been on Steam for like 3 years. I imagine there was some audition process?) "Ohhh! Yes, I understand! I kill many men VERY quickly." (Excuse me?) "I kill record number of soldiers, and I am commissioned to join RED team."

(Mr. Weapons. I am in the market for a new firearm. [Specifications].) "Hmm, for you I do not recommend minigun then. You know, there is this fast baby man that annoys me greatly with shotgun." (Oh! Oh! What are the available options? I'll spring for leather!) "Da, this is good for you. I suggest Force-A-Nature." (I'll tell them [shop owner] Heavy Weapons Guy sent me.) "It is no need. I know guy."

"I will make hat from you, little bunny." No reply from anyone. A reference for the player to the Max hat in TF2.

"You look familiar, bunny." (How closely do you follow the Manhattan Crime Blotter?) Also a reference to the hat, Tycho then takes over conversation.

(If I need someone snuffed out, what's your going rate?) "Five hundred thousand U.S. dollars." (Steep.) "Cash." (You can do it discreetly?) "Sasha... not so discreet." (That's fine.)

(How did you guys hear of the inventory?) "My engineering friend brought me one night."

(This reminds me of the time Artie Flopshark rigged an entire poker tournament to pay off his loan shark.) "I know of this. This is respectable profession in motherland." Conversation is stolen by Tycho.

(This reminds me of [story]!) "I am reminded of time Engineer kill my entire team." (Damn Heavy, that's... heavy. Sorry to hear that.) "I search entire base for him. He tries to kill me with turret and mini turret, but I crush his toys like they are made of paper." (Sounds like crappy toys.) "Then I find him. Hiding by teleporter. I take his gun away from him. He tries to hit me with wrench! Hahohoh! So I take wrench away from him. I take his wrench and shove it down his throat, all the way down to the handle." (Christ!) Heavy laughs. "Then I rip off all his fingers one by one!" He talks while laughing. "Lets see you build toys now!" He breaks out in laughter. "There's blood- everywhere! And- he's crying!" More laughter. "I think he cries out for mother, but- but-" Crumples over laughing. "The wrench is stuck in his throat! And it sounds like-" Makes choking motions and noises then laughs. "Is this not the funniest thing??" (Horrified looks) (Head shakes slowly.) (That's some bleeped up bleep, man!)

(How about you, Heavy weapons? I'm guessing you're a vodka guy?) "Peach Bellini. But bubbles can give me headache."

(Mr. Weapons, how do you like your line of work?) "It is good. There are many benefits." (Oh! Like a free pass to snuff out bad guys or a waffle bar?) "Both. And full dental."

(I wonder if this dump is haunted.) (I hope so! Roughing up who can't die is fun!) "...I do not like ghosts..." (It's okay, Mr. Weapons. I have [extensive experience]. I can handle a few ghosts.) "...You will take care of ghosts for me?" (You bet cha!) Heavy nods at him. "I like you, tiny rabbit."

[Story including a union] "I am union. RED local six fifteen." (You guys unionized?) "Eh. It was necessity for group medical."

"Tycho. This sweater, is special equipment?" (No, standard issue.) "You have no class specific head gear?" (Got a motorcycle helmet that protects from 100% of UV rays.) "This sounds beneficial."

(Why do you keep calling me 'Tiny Heavy'?) "You are Heavy. Tiny. No? You are RED team. You have killing gloves of boxing. You earn these for being great killer! You should try out for RED team." (Hmm. Guess I could join your team of ruthless killers and lame hat wearers and watch you get grenaded by 8 year olds.) "You will take many bullets before dying I think."

(Hey, Heavy. I just finished [Russian fantasy book]. Ever read it?) "No." (Oh. What's your favorite book?) "I prefer war." (Ah, War and Peace. Tasteful.) "No. Just war." (Art of War?) "Nyet." Silence. "I like 'Tsar Hunger' by Leonid Andreyev. You know this?" (...No.) "Is classic."

"You have hands like young girl." (I keep them shits moist.) "...So you are more of sneaky, stabbing type?" (In an extreme circumstance, I guess.) Heavy looks at him suspiciously. "I keep my eyes on you." (No, no no- I wasn't implying that-) Heavy looking at him angierly. (Shit.)

(Ever listen to music while you work?) "Yes! I just buy new walkman." (What gets you in the killing mood? Icelandic death metal?) "I just get Huey Lewis tape. Keeps spirits up on battle field."

"[To Tycho] You have woman?" (Not with me) "She is pretty?" (Yeah, cute, glasses, red hair.) "She has the red hair??" (No, Heavy! She is not on the other team! Don't have to kill her!) "No. But I love the red hair!" (Well, you can't have her, either.) Re-used image of Heavy looking at him angrily. (Well, maybe we can work something out.)

(Hey, Heavyman. You think you can 'take care' of the King of Town for me?) "I can assassinate king, yes. It is expensive, though." (By take care of I meant sneak in and shave off half his mustache.) "I am not best at sneaking." (Confront him in a dark alley then?) "This is better. That way blood wash away in rain."

(You have any interest in moonlighting?) "WHAT? I am not moonlighter!" (Just a little work on the side with Sam and me beating up goons!) "Oh. I can not do this." (C'mon it's fun and free!) "No, I am sure it is." (Then what's the problem?) "I have non compete." (Ah, yeah. Lawyers.)

(All these aces reminds me of [weird dream]. You have any weird dreams, Mr. Weapons?) "I sometimes dream that I am killed. There is blood everywhere. (Tycho gives him a weird look) But then I wake up and I realize this is ridiculous! Nobody can kill Heavy weapons guy! (Riiiight...)

"[To his chips] This is good Solider. This one is good Doktor. You are demolition man."

"Saaaandvich, sandvich, I love you sandvich!" (Would you like someone to order you some food?)

"Blue man." (Tycho.) "Tycho. What college do you go to? You are educated, no?" (Actually, no.) "No?" (I studied at Gygax Polyhedral if you catch my drift.) "I do not. This is good school?" (Uh. The best.) "I went to Soviet College of Mines, Farms, and Science. I have PhD in Russian literature." (Do you.. use that in your work?) "More than you think."

"Tiny Heavy, who is your favorite to kill in war?" (Those discount three-pack green helmets.) "To kill spy is glorious thing! How about you, Max? You are killing type." (My favorite enemy? Like asking me to choose between my children!) Heavy laughs. "You crack me up, little bunny!"

(Hey, Hefty Bag, you ever play video games?) "Just one." (Oh yeah?) "It is called-" (Tycho: WoW?) "Nyet. That is not popular. It is called 'Where's an Egg'." (Strongbad: I love Where's an Egg!) "Where's an Egg is as big as Tetris in homeland."

(Concerning your firearm, whay caliber we talking?) "Big." (What, we talking 300 Weatherby Mag here?) "Bigger." (50 cal, whereabouts?) "Bigger than 50 caliber. They are hand made custom tool cartridges with classified diameter." (Why's that?) "So enemy canmot use ammunition. But Sasha can chew through theirs." (Diabolical!) "I think so." Nods.

(Alright, big pretend killer man. Tell me the most awesome story you have with plenty of senseless violence!) Heavy thinks. "When I was boy, I was at camp, being trained in many ways of combat." (Assassination camp for kids! This is gonna be good!) "There was sparrow sitting on fence. Snow falls quietly around me. Without notice, another boy jumps from behind tree and kills sparrow with throwing knife. The boy runs away." (And then??) "I pick up sparrow, and hear his last breath before digging him tiny grave..." (Tycho crying) (Max silent) (That's not even a little bit funny, man.) Heavy shakes his head solemnly. "No..." Sits back. "It's not."

(So, what do you do for fun?) "Clean Sasha. Use Sasha... Clean Sasha again." (Proper maintience is crucial.) "I also collect old coins." (A fellow numismatist!) "Which I melt down to make custom bullets." (Of course.)

"I am hungry for sandvich." (Then order a sandvich, man.) "Oh, I can not have sandvich! I become unstoppable killing machine!" (Yeah, maybe order a water.) "Is best."

"You wear blue sweater." (All the time.) "What are you?" (Haven't we went over this?) "You are not Scout. Maybe very tricky blue Spy? Maybe... new class?" (I can use a keyboard to sabotage your entire team, steal your intelligence, and have your sister delivered to my doorstep in one afternoon. Yes, I'm a new class.) Heavy, shocked, "This is true??"

(Hey, Heavyman, what's your living situ-aysh?) "I live in RED barraks. Is nice. There is foos table." (How about taking a room in the house of Strong?) "There is vacancy?" (First you'll have to dump the current person in your room.) "This is enemy?" (He won't put up much of a fight.)

Hope you enjoyed, spent most of the day copying all these down. The non-Heavy lines are paraphrased for shortness. Heavy's are full, how they are in game.

[heyitssmiller]

Chop It Like It’s Hot

Chapter 3: Sun’s Out Buns Out

Chop It Like It’s Hot Masterlist

Let the pining begin.

@lumosinlove

“Oh my god, there’s ducks!” Finn said excitedly, pointing to the ducks swimming in the pond nearby. Their next challenge was taking place in a small park on the outskirts of the city, which made Logan a little nervous. He was just getting used to the setup of the kitchens, and now he had to deal with this. Finn let out an aww as a group of ducklings followed their mom. “Look at ‘em, they’re so cute.”

Logan looked warily at the setup of grills a few feet away. “I don’t think we’re here to look at ducks.”

“Good morning, recruits!” Dorcas called, waving them over. Leo stood beside her, hair turned golden in the sunlight. Logan blamed the reason he was suddenly too hot on the weather.

Ah, yes. That new development Logan refused to think about too hard.

He was happy with Finn. They’d been happy together for years now.

So why was he crushing on Leo like he did with Finn back in college?

Logan wasn’t blind – he knew the signs well enough after pining for Finn for five years. He just didn’t know what to do with these feelings. And they’d learned from all the miscommunication and wasted time in college – he and Finn told each other everything now.

He just wasn’t sure he could tell Finn this.

How would that conversation go? Hey I know we’ve been happily together for three years now but I also kind of want to kiss that tall blond guy who’s been teaching us how to cook. 

Yeah. That would go over well.

“Today we’re going to be testing your creativity by having you make your own burgers! We’ll both give you examples, but you’ll need to come up with your own original ideas for this challenge.” Leo stated, dumping ground beef into a bowl. “I’m going to make a jaeger schnitzel burger. So for the meat I’m using a mixture of different meats. Schnitzel is traditionally pork or veal, but you need the right ratio of lean meat to fatty meat to make a good burger, so I’m adding some additional fatty beef.” He formed patties out of the meat and placed them on the grill. “What really sets jaeger schnitzel from regular schnitzel is the mushroom gravy on top.”

He smiled, which Logan was quickly realizing was completely unfair. “Creating a gravy is a little hard on a grill, but I’ll do my best. Basically we’re going to melt butter in a pan and fry these onions until they begin to brown. Then add the garlic and cook it for another minute. Add the mushrooms and cook until they’re golden and some of the liquid from the mushrooms has evaporated.”

Leo switched back to his burgers and flipped them before returning to his sauce. “To thicken this into a gravy. We’re going to add flour and stir. Then it’s just beef broth, vinegar, thyme, sugar, salt, and pepper.  Now the burgers are done, so we’re going to take all of this off the grill and plate it, making sure there’s plenty of gravy on this burger.” 

“And I’m going to make a burrito burger.” Dorcas took over. “First we’re going to take our meat and add some seasoning to it: chili powder, garlic powder, onion powder, crushed red pepper flakes, dried oregano, paprika, ground cumin, sea salt, and black pepper. Make sure to get the seasoning mixed in there thoroughly. Then we just throw these patties on the grill and let them cook. What really sets this burger apart are the toppings.”

She reached into a bag on her table and pulled out refried beans, salsa, pepper jack cheese, and lettuce. “I made the refried beans and salsa from scratch last night since we definitely don’t have time for that today. So once these burgers are cooked, we just add the toppings and we’re done. Easy enough, right?”

“This challenge is a blind taste test so that we can’t pick favorites.” Leo added. “Which means you guys are going to be on your own for this challenge – we can’t help you in this round.”

Everyone groaned.

“Just don’t burn yourselves and you’ll be fine. You have forty-five minutes and your time starts now!”

***

Mid-Episode Interview:

*Logan takes his hat off to run a hand through his hair with a sigh*

Logan: I… I might be going home today. *laughs* You know, I hate cooking. The only reason I went on this show was because of Finn. He seemed so excited about it, you know? So for the past seven weeks, I figured if I got eliminated I’d just stay in the city and spend time with him when they weren’t shooting the show. I haven’t really cared if I got eliminated or not. Now, though?

*His gaze loses focus for a few seconds, then he looks back at the camera*

Logan: I don’t think I’m ready to leave just yet.

***

Finn quickly glanced over at Logan as he dropped lamb chops into a hot pan. The brunet had come in second to last place in the earlier competition today and clearly wasn’t happy about it. There wasn’t much he could do right now, but he’d find something to cheer him up with after they were done filming for the day. Alex was in the city visiting their family – maybe the two of them could stop by the house and say hi, if it wasn’t too late.

“Non-stick pan, Lo!” He hissed as Logan grabbed a regular pan to put his potato cake in.

“What?”

“Use a non-stick pan. That way it won’t stick when you flip the cake over.”

“Got it. Thanks.”

“How’s it going over here?”

Finn glanced up to see Leo at their shared station. “Good! I think. The lamb chops were a little hard to cut and my tapenade is kind of a mess, but I’m hoping it tastes ok.”

“And the potato cake?”

“The fact that I’m going to be flipping a potato cake is hilarious because I am not graceful at all.”

Leo laughed. “It’s not too bad, you’ll see. Logan, how about you?”

“Well, I’ve learned that I hate the taste of fennel.” Logan groused, sprinkling red pepper flakes on top of his fennel salad. “So I’m hoping to mask that flavor as much as I can.”

“It’s definitely not for everyone. Your chopping skills have really improved over the past couple of weeks, though – look at those potatoes!”

Logan looked up and smiled.

A smile Finn definitely recognized from college.

He glanced back and forth between the two, speculating. Maybe it wasn’t just Finn dealing with new feelings he wasn’t sure how to process yet.

After time ran out Finn glanced down at his two identical dishes – one for him, one for Leo – with a sigh of relief. It was still a little messy, but overall he felt pretty good about it. No matter what he was miles ahead of where he started, so he was happy with himself. He was still a little worried to be tasting his own dish, though. At the end of the day he was still a bad cook, after all.

When it was finally his turn to be judged, he grabbed both plates and placed them on the table before taking a seat opposite Leo.

“This feels like a really weird first date.” Finn teased, watching the faintest hint of a blush spread across Leo’s cheeks.

Oh my god, he’s adorable.

“I can definitely see some inconsistency in the cooking of your lamb chops.” He hurried to say, flipping one of the pieces of meat over for Finn to look at. “See, this one’s nice and brown while this one is undercooked. This boils down to variation of size in your meat. When you’ve got all kinds of different sizes, it’s hard to consistently cook them.” He cut up a piece of lamb and put it in his mouth. Finn probably stared at said mouth a bit too long before following suit.

“Well? What do you think?”

Finn shrugged, swallowing his bite. “I like it.”

Leo smiled. “You know what? Me too.”

 ***

Logan was up next. He sat down hesitantly across from Leo, looking down at his plate and hoping it was enough to save him from elimination.

“Your presentation is really good, Logan. The potatoes are nice and golden, the lamb looks perfect.” Leo said, and something about his words and calm demeanor soothed Logan instantly. He smiled. “Thanks, chef.”

“Ready to try this?”

“Let’s do it.” Logan stabbed his food with his fork, took a bite –

And instantly coughed.

It was so spicy. The kind of spicy that makes your throat close up and tears come to your eyes.

“Oh my god.” He gasped, making a mad dive towards his glass of water and downing it as fast as he could. “Jesus Christ, that’s so hot.”

Leo hummed, setting his fork down. He seemed completely unfazed. “Too much red pepper. You said earlier you were trying to mask fennel flavor, but I think you did too good a job at that.” He watched Logan with a small smile and pushed his own full glass of water towards him. “You ok?”

Logan gaped at him, but gladly accepted the water. “How are you not dying right now?”

“I literally have a show about cajun cooking; I’m used to spice. You should try ghost peppers sometime.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Don’t knock it until you try it.” Leo looked back down at his plate. “Overall, your dish was pretty good. Could’ve used a little less red pepper, but the rest of it was spot on.”

Logan felt his shoulders relax a little. “Thanks, chef.”

***

Logan was in the bottom two.

Fuck.

Finn’s heart had continued to drop as name after name of the safe contestants got announced, including his own, and Logan’s didn’t. He knew Logan didn’t really care if he got eliminated or not, but this had been so much fun to do with him. Finn didn’t want to see him go yet.

“And the recruit who will be leaving us today is…”

Finn honestly couldn’t name the person who got eliminated – all he knew was that Logan was staying. He let his tense shoulders relax and stepped forward to give him a hug. “That was close, Lo.”

“Yeah,” Logan’s voice was muffled in Finn’s shirt. “Guess I’ll have to try harder next week.”

Finn leaned back with a big smile on his face. “You wanna stay?”

“I mean, I’m a really bad cook,” Logan shrugged. “But I’ll stay as long as I can.”

“Logan?” Both boys turned at the voice. Leo stood off to the side, looking slightly awkward.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to talk to you about today’s challenges and ways to improve. I’ve got a few tips I can share, if you want.” He glanced at Finn. “Can I steal him for a second?”

“Go right ahead.”

Leo flashed him a smile before motioning for Logan to follow him.

Finn couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he could read Logan’s body language like a book. When he fiddled with his hat, Finn knew he was nervous. When he met Leo’s eyes and didn’t look away as he spoke, he was serious about whatever he was saying. When his gaze flicked down to Leo’s lips, he wanted to kiss him. When he subconsciously leaned forwards and tilted his head up slightly, he was going to kiss him.

The strangest thing was… Finn wasn’t jealous. He should be, shouldn’t he?

But Logan didn’t kiss Leo.

He seemed to catch himself at the last second and he drew back sharply, refusing to look at Leo again. He muttered something and turned to walk away, catching Finn’s gaze as he did so. His eyes widened guiltily, steps slowing as he crossed the room to where Finn was waiting.

Finn gave him a small smile and grabbed his hand reassuringly.

“I think we need to talk.”

[gildedmuse]

Law is still Shichibukai (for some reason) and meets with the others including Mihawk for government business or something. He learns he had a relationship with Zoro during the 2 years. Even though Law is in a relationship with him now Mihawk & Zoro never really ended theirs officially so Law gets jealous and competative

Right, I have to pass out. But here is part one of three of this magical tale.

Oh thank God someone else has thought of this because I think about this SO MUCH. Like, "what are you even doing with your life?" / "Oh, you know, mostly trying to set up a Mihawk/Zoro/Law love triangle." / "..... Just WHY?"

Because it'd be super hot that's why.

One dude whose super possessive, one who hates losing and one who's totally obvious to all that shit. are you kidding me? That was made for fanfic glory.

I don't know if I can do such a delicious thing justice in a "let's see if I remember how words work" post, but damn right I'll try it.

It's 2020. The world needs this you guys. And hopefully it inspires others to look deep within themselves and realize the Mihawk/Zoro/Law triangle was inside them all along.

To War Over You

"Why do I have to be here again? No offense, Torao, this whole thing sounds boring as hell."

Law closes his eyes and draws a deep breath; the best way to deal with any of the Strawhat crew if you didn't want it to end in bloodshed and a broken alliance. "Did you not understand the first three times I went over the situation, Zoro-ya? I don't know if I can explain it in any simpler terms without resorting to coloring books and grade school lessons."

It may have been a little snippy, but for as confidently as he struts down the hallways of the naval base just those side of Marie Joice, Law could never get use to having marines on either side, standing at every doorway, eyeing him suspiciously as they walk past him in the halls. He'd seen what these men would do given the orders or the chance, so despite how well he could hide behind a haughty mask and arrogant demeanor, Law can't help feeling once more like a frightened child on the run from these very same men.

He had fully expected to have to lead Zoro through the whole parade, tell him not to jump at the sight of every uniform (as is still, deep down, Law's immediately response) but the other swordsman comes off as almost entirely unaffected. He makes eye contact with passing marines as if daring them to question his presence or better yet try something. He doesn't even have a hand on his sword, a sure sign of the boy's nervousness. He walks next to Law, appearing utterly calm and unafraid and, well, bored.

It's giving Law a headache to be honest. Could one if the Strawhats even pretend to behave like normal pirates?

When Zoro's shoulder bumps against Law's he wonders, fleetingly, if this this is the part where Zoro finally admits how paranoid this whole scene leaves him.

They walk past a pair of marines like that, Zoro leaning into his shoulder practically hanging off Law, and neither men blinks an eye. In fact, they make a point of not even glancing up at the passing pirates, their conversation going quiet and their eyes locked to the floor until they've past. That's been the case more and more this visit; a complete change from the first time Law had been invited where even privates and ensigns felt confident enough to give him bad looks, expressions that clearly asked what one of his kind was doing there.

Zoro also waits until the heavy steps of the two marines are mostly out of earshot before he leans, somehow, even closer. Until Law can feel the boy's hot mouth up against his skin, heating the metal hoops in his ear. "I'm so sorry oh powerful warlord," Zoro teases because, since it really occured to him that Law is a Shichibukai - and apparently one the government is desperate to keep on their side - he couldn't seem to stop himself from mocking the title. If it were any other pirate, Law could have chopped them into parts and been done with it, but for whatever reason he allows the vice captain of the straw hats to get away with such insults. "I must have been distracted at the time."

Ah, yes. That's why.

Law ducks his head, as if attempting to hide a smirk as they go by another three marines - ensigns based on their uniforms and the way their eyes go wide before they scurry past. Ah, well, at worst they'll think he's planning something big, something illegal (which he is, though not for a while) though more than likely they'll just think that's how pirates are. Cocky and unafraid.

Law doesn't mind the reputation.

Of course, if they knew the real reason Trafalgar Law, pirate captain, worst generation, and Shichibukai looked so damn smug they probably would have hurried by all the faster.

Is it his fault that there is something so pleasing about taking a man with the reputation of Roronoa Zoro and having him on his knees and begging? Law can't help the spark of pride knowing that while most others couldn't even halt Zoro's steps were he determined to get by, Law could leave him sprawled out, exhausted, panting on the bed after being made to come a fourth time and yet in two hours he'd crawl into Law's lap, needy and impatient and wanting anything the older pirate would give him.

It's enough to make any man a little conceited. After all, how many can say they've reduced the pirate hunter to such a desperate state?

Law has every right to feel proud.

Still nearly climbing on top of Law even as they walked, Zoro takes the other man's ear in his mouth, tongue first warming the metal and then teeth pulling at the earrings. Law really should make him stop; they must have all sorts of surveillance inside the base. But he just can't find it in him to do more than find the most obvious of the recording snails stuck to the walls, offering it and whoever is lucky enough to be watching a cocky smile.

And because Zoro, like the most crew, doesn't seem to understand the idea of subtle, he follows the bite up with, "I guess having you fuck my mouth interests me more than some political bullshit. Hard paying attention to all this useless junk when your buried that deep in my throat."

It's not romantic. It's hardly even sexy. And yet even as Zoro slides back into his own space, Law can feel something in his gut start to tighten, to want. It had been such a mistake to bring the swordsman along, he should have known better.

Only he'd received a hint from a certain high ranking, unnamed inspector general that the navy knew he was harbouring at least some of the Straw hats on his ship (However did they find that out, Zoro-ya? Maybe if you didn't insist on fighting every battle ship you saw). He would still be expected to attend the meeting, of course, but if he did show up they would certainly search his ship for the pirates and, failing that, likely charge him all the same. Especially after they couldn't use the Doflamigo incident against him, in part thanks to Issho's very live, very unscripted broadcast.

It seemed obviously to Law that their best option is to claim these straw hats had made the decision to work under him (some more literally than others) which only left the matter of which one to bring, to show Law isn't afraid of their suspicious.

Robin could lie very well and would have easily been the best choice, except she was just as likely to stand in front of some of the top ranked marines and inform them that, in fact, she is still and will always be a Strawhat. And she'd say it with a smile. Franky... Well, no. Franky wouldn't last two minutes into an interrogation. Usopp could lie, but there's a chance he'd over do it, or simple break down at the sight of so many marines.

No, Zoro had been his best choice, which is a condemnation of his chooses really. He's just hoping the vice captain will be able to clentch his teeth and get through it.

As added incentive, Law made plenty of promises.... And threats. Depending, of course, on Zoro's ability to behave.

"What's the point of even calling you out here?" Zoro asks in an entirely casual tone, as if he hadn't just described sucking Law off. "Not like the government acts wants your opinion on anything."

Law has to admit Zoro's right, but after the near catastrophe at Dressrosa, Law is trying to play ball. If they haven't expelled him yet it's because they need something from him, and Law is determined to find out what. "Just do as I tell you and don't make a scene," Law says, knowing those two instructions are impossible for any strawhat to follow, perhaps especially this one. "So long as you don't-"

Suddenly, Law is no longer looking at Zoro but at the plain walls of the military base. Confused, he looks back to see Zoro has come to a stop in the middle of the hall. There is a dangerous grin pulling at his lips, one that Law would definitely be afraid of of he hadn't seen it so many times right before Zoro swallowed him whole. Now it just makes him lose his breath a little too fast, the heat in his gut pours through the rest of him, becoming something he can't control.

Expect Zoro isn't looking his way at all.

"Hawkeye," Zoro says simply, and while his voice is harsh his expression certainly isn't. "I forgot they still recognize you as a Shichibukai. When I defeat you then, do I get that title as well?"

Law jerks to look back so abruptly he feels a little sick, but sure enough there he is; fellow Shichibukai and world's greatest swordsman. A title that Law knows Zoro coverts, perhaps explaining the gleam in his eyes as he stares down the other swordsman. Though Law would have expected it to hold more.... Hostility. Instead, despite the seriousness of his tone and the challenge in his eyes, Zoro's lips keep twitching, unable to completely hide the a smile.

He's probably just happy to get this chance at a rematch. Not that Law is about to let that happen in the middle of a marine base. Zoro may be less than cautious and driven by his heart rather than solid reason, but he isn't that crazy.

.... Is he?

"Roronoa," Mihawk greets him formally and, again, his voice even and devoid of humour, and yet the older Shichibukai does nothing to hide his smile. "How strange to see the rabbit has wandered so far from its burrow."

Zoro wrinkles his nose before deciding to go for something slight more intimidating. "I told you not to call me that." He might try and pass it off as a growl, but honestly he sounds like a pouting child. It's cute, in a way.

In the way that it would have been cute, if it had been for Law.

Mihawk's smirk grows more amused, more cocky at Zoro's reply. "I seem to recall you didn't mind at times." Mihawk's long strides eat up the room between him and Zoro in a matter of seconds, and before Law even thought to be on guard the older man is leaning down, whispering something for only Zoro to hear.

Law may not know what exactly is said, but he recognizes the flush in the other boy's cheeks, the way his eyes go wide before falling half closed as he rocks, almost consciously, up onto his toes and closer to the one teasing him.

It's a state he's enjoyed putting the swordsman in in the past, one he's never had to witness as a third party.

When Mihawk has finished, Zoro is just a touch too pink and too breathless for Law's comfort. But it's the smirk on the older swordsman's lips when he pulls away that makes Law clench his fist and bite doesn't hard. If they weren't at this base, he's fairly certain nothing, not even his intelligence or will to survive, could stop him from casting a room and cutting Mihawk's heart out. At the least.

It's only after Mihawk has had his fun with Zoro that he looks up, his sharp golden eyes falling on Law. Law can only remember one other time the master swordsman has graced him with so much as a vague consideration; when he'd first arrived here, a newly appointed warlord. Mihawk had merely regarded him with nothing more than a passing glance before declaring he had more important things to attend to and making a swift, unapologetic exit.

Now, though, his eyes seem to study Law like he's preforming a dissection, seeing parts of him that Law would have thought impossible to see.

"Trafalgar," Mihawk uses the same even tone as he had with Zoro, only lacking in any signs of warmth as he had with Zoro. "I see you decided to join us after all." Before Law can point out that he could hardly deny the summon he had been sent, Mihawk's eyes are back on Zoro. "Am I to believe the rumours of you abandoning your captain are true then, Roronoa?"

Before Zoro can ruin their cover (Law can see it in his face and feel the aura around him, this refusal to deny his captain) Law is quick to leap in. "Zoro-ya is under me now, if that is what you're asking," Law snaps, perhaps with more bite than is necessary. And if his words can be taken more than one way, well, that's really up to the listener to decide. "Otherwise, why would I entrust him to accompany me to this summit?"

[zinzinina]

Hello my dear! Congratulations on 500 followers, that's so fucking amazing 💕, I was wondering if I could use that dating service of yours?

If I was an animal, I'd probably be an otter, they just seem so sweet

Ideal night out is going to somewhere like target with a friend super late, then getting a coffee and talking shit in the car while we drive around. Ideal night in is with a hot drink, and I'm probably in bed switching between reading, writing and drawing

Venus Fly Trap by Marina is a song that fits my vibe really well

My personal idea of hell is somewhere with painfully slow wi-fi surrounded by people who play 'devils advocate' (just writing that made me feel gross)

Hi Bee! Great news, we have a match!

Don’t be discouraged by the Jedi robes; Kit is one of the most laid-back and open-minded men you’ll find this side of the Hydian Way. Kind, calm and patient, Kit soothes with his presence alone: literally, Nautolans run a little cooler than humans. Peaceful isn’t the same thing as boring, though -- Kit has the kind of infectious smile and wicked sense of humour that’ll have you laughing until you cry, clutching onto him for support. He’s incredibly physically and interpersonally confident, which translates to plenty of charisma. Kit has no trouble getting along with whoever he’s with, and he loves to make others feel good. All in all, the perfect partner for someone as sweet as you are!

I’m sending you guys off on a tropical getaway to Castilon, where you’ve got a little private cabana looking out over the ocean. The water is crystal-clear, perfect for snorkelling (for you, that is, Kit doesn’t need the same, uh, kit that you do). He’ll be able to show you all the most beautiful features of the reef, holding onto you in the warm water when your legs are too tired to keep you afloat. Night on Castilon is its own spectacle. If you’ve never seen two full moons reflected back at you, it’ll take your breath away. The cabanas are simple; not connected to the planet’s magna-grid, so you’ve got a supply of candles and blankets instead. Very romantic. Only thing better would be a midnight swim together... no swimsuits required.

Thank you for using Sam’s Star Wars Matchmaking Service™️! Sunscreen, towels and hats not included. May the Spires Keep You! x

[jackidy]

To Star Lake - Chapter 2

Rating: T Pairings: Todoroki Shouto/Sero Hanta Characters: Various Universe: Howls Moving Castle Au

Summary: A day of impossibilities starts with a mystery man, with mismatched eyes and cold hands, rescuing him in a dark alleyway as he attempted to go about his business and the pet name sweetheart being said a little too tenderly. It ends with another stranger cursing him in his own store after telling them to leave.

Things like this don’t happen to people like Sero Hanta.

AO3  Previous Chapter Next Chapter 

---

He’s all too aware of his body when he wakes up, the dull thrum of pain in his joints and back that was not too different from every time he’d fallen asleep at his desk whilst working. Only he’s not at his desk, he’s in his bed, staring at the off-white ceiling as Sero willed himself to get up, mind combing through the events of yesterday in a bid to find the source of why he ached so much.

Went to see Kaminari. Was literally swept off his feet by a wizard. Came home and met another one who –

The attempt to sit up quickly is beaten by the stiffness, Sero grumbling to himself as he stumbled over to the mirror and wash basin in his room, blinking at his appearance before sighing in resignation. “So, I didn’t dream that after all.” He mumbles, voice deeper and croakier than it had been before, eyeing his now older features warily. How was he going to explain this to Urakaka and the workers or to Mina when she turned up later?

Wait, Mina. Moving with speed that leaves him winded, Sero locks the door, knowing the other would barely hesitate before slamming the door open to announce her presence the moment she realised he wasn’t downstairs. But how could he go downstairs?! He’d aged fifty years over night due to some guy whose life mission last night seemed to solely be tormenting Sero.

Had he been the person following them through the alleyway? He wasn’t caught up enough on magic practises to know if blue fire was a common thing, he just now knew that curses burnt through you like fire. Presuming that his current state was reversible at all, gods he hoped it was.

“Pass that on to little Shouto, would you.”

Why did everything keep coming back to Shouto? He’d never met the man. Surely, he’d remember meeting a supposed heart stealing wizard, even if Sero was far from his usual target. He’d entertained the idea of his rescuer being him, of the renowned heart eater saving him, kissing the back of his hand before he was stating he was his Hanta. But things like that don’t happen to him, regardless of what yesterday have proved, it was simply a case of mistaken identity that had resulted in all this.

At least, that was the truth he believed until a better idea came up.

The jostling of the door handle startles him, an all too familiar annoyed noise before loud, impatient knocking sounded against the door. “Sero Hanta! Open this door so I can see your lovely face.” There she was, tehre was Mina, Sero tempted to open the door and greet her only to stop himself. How does he explain this? It had been a struggle in and of itself trying to play down the events of yesterday to keep Kaminari from stressing out and that was before the additional ones that left him twenty-three going on seventy.

“Maybe next time, I’m not feeling too great.” Not an entire lie, he didn’t feel great. He felt confused and anxious more than anything. Please buy it, he mentally pleads, hoping it would be good enough cover as to why he sounded so old now. “I must have caught something at the parade yesterday.” I caught a series of impossible events, he adds silently, waiting with bated breath to see if she buys it and leaves.

“Do you need me to get you anything? We can bring you some soup at lunch time?” We? Oh, Urakaka. No doubt as soon as Mina returned downstairs with news he was ill she’d be in the same concerned boat as Mina, the pair a force to be reckoned with when it came to any worker feeling a little off colour or, more often than not, whenever Sero over worked himself.

It happened more often than he cared to admit.

“Sure, you know my favourite.” What time was it now? How long until the lunch break and how long did he have to leave? It was ten, lunch began at one. 3 Hours was plenty of time to dress, pack some food and money and leave before they all came back. As much as he would love to stay, he doesn’t know how to explain any of this, the idea of disappearing for a while and coming back himself a more attractive idea.

Kaminari is probably going to laugh at the fact the thing that got him to stop following his self-imposed expectations of himself was being turned into an old man. This all after, of course, the blonde would shout about how he’d been right about Sero’s day only getting stranger.

His clothes still fit, though what they gained in length they lost in looseness, fitting now more snugly against him. Perhaps that’s a perk in and of itself, if this is what he was going to look like when he was older, at least his metabolism had slowed down enough to let him gain weight. “At least your clothes fit you better now.” Sero whispers to himself, shrugging on a jacket and jamming his signature hat on like always.

First stop is the kitchen, taking his bag and cautiously unlocking the door, heading downstairs, breathing a small sigh of relief to find the kitchen empty, grabbing bread, cheese and some cured meat before pausing at the sight of the tart on the table and the small note beside it of ‘Hanta’s, don’t touch!’. Oh, the temptation to take it, arguing with himself for a little too long before sighing and walking over, grabbing the nearest pen to scribble a quick ‘thank you! – Hanta’ on the note before taking it.

No use adding to the panic they were going to feel when they realised that he was gone, Sero hesitating, unsure of if he should go through with his plan before shaking his head, shoving the entire bite sized pastry in his mouth. He was leaving. He was going to the wastes to find someone, anyone, willing to tell him how to break this curse placed on him and, with any luck, hopefully break it.

Shoving the plundered food into his bag, he makes a quick escape as the dawning realisation of how much tea the shop went through during the day set in. Leaving through the gate in the courtyard behind the store, Sero slips into the alleyway, thankful as the stiffness of his joints seems to ease up but noting with some annoyance how it still remained, as if a lingering reminder of the mess he’d gotten himself in.

Maybe he should get himself a walking stick? If anything, it would add to the look, Sero politely turning down the off of help down some stairs before going back to his thoughts, did he have enough to buy a walking stick? Did he have enough money at all? He hadn’t really checked his wallet before leaving, he’d just assumed he’d have enough to get by on. Did recklessness come with being older or was this just another side of the curse that he was only just now becoming aware of because, sure, he wasn’t always the most careful of people but he’d always been careful when it came to his finances.

He’ll find a stick to use when he gets to the wastes, nothing was so sore he needed one right now anyway but it would be a safe bet he may need something to assist walking when he made it to the moorland wastes. But he was getting ahead of himself, it was all fair and well planning what he’d do once he reached the outskirts of civilisation but he first had to get there.

---

He should have bought a walking stick.

Sero makes it to the wastes, hitching a ride with a farmer whose farmland backed onto them, who felt the need to remind Sero he was crazy for going up into the wastes alone, how nobody who went there ever came back and that he hoped whoever Sero was looking for was worth it. He doesn’t have the heart to tell the man that he’s aware of the first two, just smiling a little sadly and informing him that, yes, the person he was looking for was important. Even if Sero didn’t know who that was just yet, silently hoping it was the man from the alleyway just so he could point out with annoyance at just what he’d inadvertently caused by not letting him be mugged.  

That’s what he tells himself anyway, knowing it in part to be a lie.

He still wants to know how the man knew his name, how he treated him like they not only knew each other but were close. Sero has met many people through his work but he knows full well that whilst he remembers people, they rarely remember him and yet, Mr Mystery was not only unknown to him but also knew enough about Sero to not only call him his given name but kiss his hand. How could he not be intrigued enough to seek him out and demand answers to every question the wizard had been the source of?

Sero shivers as another breeze goes through him, noting bitterly he should have picked up a thicker jacket than the one he wore as well as a stick, huddling down into a small outcropping of trees, pulling the flimsy jacket tighter around him before blowing into his hands. “Biggest I’ve ever been and I still can’t keep fucking warm.” He mutters to himself bitterly, digging into his bag for a bite to eat before setting himself to thinking of warm things.

The hearth in the work room that made the winters so much more bearable. The hot cocoa Koda made for everyone during his breaks at the bakery, including Sero if he happened to be visiting Kaminari. Urakaka and Mina’s attempts at making soups or stews and failing miserably, Sero always eating them despite the way his stomach protested each time, thinking fondly on how they’d improved over the years to the point what they made was now truly edible. How hot the alleyway had been even with the ice cold hand on his waist, how warm the wizards hand had been in comparison when it-

No.

He wasn’t supposed to be thinking about that right now, Sero’s stomach churning. It was his fault he was an old man, his fault he was currently sat in cold moorland and not in his workshop, his fault that everyone he was friends with were probably panicking over his sudden disappearance. No, that one wasn’t his fault, it was Sero’s decision to leave, no matter how much he wanted to blame someone else.

“I should have left a note for them.” He wonders idly, staring at the town in the distance, mouth pressed into a thin line as opposed to one of his usual smiles. They’ll be fine without him, he won’t be gone forever and then he’s return so they can all, rightfully, express their annoyance at him for just absconding into the wilderness without so much as a word never mind a goodbye.

The sound of something rustling makes him jump, Sero scrambling to his feet in a way that wouldn’t have affected his younger body but he’d definitely be feeling later on at this age, turning a little too sharply only to find not a beast but a stick, or should that be a branch, sticking out of the bushes. Had that been there when he’d stopped here earlier or was this just the world granting him a boon to make up for his own personal hell he was experiencing?

Putting his bag back on, Sero moves round to the other side of the outcrop, preferring the idea of not tumbling down the side of the hill should he fall, knowing full well there would be no way he’d manage to get back up the hill with any new pains he’d gain from it. The cold breeze is still present as he grabs the stick in both hands, muttering small curses as he pulled the stick, going as far as to put his foot against a tree for leverage.

“This branch better be damn worth it.” He hisses through clenched teeth, toppling backwards as the branch comes free, revealing not a walking stick like he had hoped but something entirely different. Sero isn’t too proud to admit he screams, a scarecrow that looks more akin to a crucified bird balancing perfectly at his feet, a tattered dark suit covering the frame embellished with red and black feathers that stretched from arms to a flour sack head in a way that made it look like a crown. It’s almost laughable how it looks like a mocking rendition of the missing Prince from the neighbouring kingdom.

Pushing himself to his feet, grunting in pain from his sore back and knees, Sero offers the scarecrow a withering glance before sighing. “Well, there goes my hopes for a walking stick. At least you’re not upside down now.” He grumbles, rolling his shoulders to ease the stiffness settling into them, sighing before setting off again, hands gripping the bag strap as a sense of unease filled him.

He needs to find a place to stay, eyeing the clouds above wearily as they rolled in slowly, thick and dark, the smell of lightning and rain in the air. Kaminari would be happy, he was practically lightning made flesh, but Sero was not his short friend, Sero was not too fond of being caught out in a storm, more so now he knew how cold the wastes were. If only he had actually found a stick in that bush, maybe then he’d move faster than a snail’s pace and have at least a diminishing hope of finding a place to stay tonight as opposed to the none existent one he held onto now.

Sero jumps as something is dropped in front of him, looking down at the offending object, a walking stick, before turning his attention upwards to the looming figure oh the bird turned scarecrow. If this had occurred any other week, Sero knows full well his response to a moving scarecrow would have been one of abject horror, more so down to the thing’s effigy like appearance. “Umm…thanks.”

His back cracks as he bends to pick up the cane, noting with mild amusement the bird head like handle, looking up at the scarecrow again and letting out a breathy laugh. “You must be so proud of yourself, huh?” His response comes in the form of a couple of bounces, Sero not entirely sure why he thought he’d get a verbal one beyond it feeling like a natural conclusion to come to after the day or so. “If you want to find a place for me to stay in tonight too, that would also be helpful.”

The scarecrow bounces away, a lot faster than Sero expected it to move, the cursed man silently wondering just how the scarecrow had come to be and just how it seemed to understand what he was saying to it. Was it also cursed like him or was it simply the product of unspent magic that found its home in an inanimate object? Though, what did he know, his only experiences with magic in life had resulted in the situation he was stuck in.

Hobbling forward, Sero heads in the direction the scarecrow had gone, his legs all too thankful when the ground evened out into something less steep, the lessening ache in his joints feeling heavenly even if he was still in some discomfort, preferring the mild discomfort over the sharper pains that had seemingly haunted his ankles knees and hips on inclines.

He’s not too sure how longer he’s walked for when he smells it, the all too familiar woodsmoke, Sero relaxing and moving forward with as much vigour only for the excitement to come to a crushing end when he hears it. Metal clanks and creaks against itself, the smell of smoke almost suffocating as the sight of both the scarecrow and the house it had found come into view.

Only it wasn’t a house.

That was Shouto’s castle.

“When I said find me a house, I didn’t mean that!” Sero yells, watching as the castle seems to slow its pace, passing the cursed man and scarecrow slowly but never stopping. This had to be a sick coincidence, right? Surely this bird headed scarecrow hadn’t intentionally led a magical walking castle to him, right? He might have come to the wastes looking for a witch or wizard willing to help him out but this was something else entirely, he was hoping for one that didn’t walk hand in hand with a reputation for heart eating.

Any further protests to using the castle are interrupted when the sky rumbles to life, a loud roar of thunder and the crack of lightning somewhere behind him but all too close for comfort. Breaking and entering into a castle owned by a wizard of known incredible power or staying out in a storm? It was an easy enough answer for him to find, stumbling after the castle as the sound of raindrops began to make the metal sing. Why does the castle seem to be speeding up again, had Sero missed his opportunity to enter? Rain biting into the back of his calves as he attempted to catch up, not sure if the sound in his ears was the rumbling thunder or his frantic heartbeat from the sheer effort of trying to at least keep up with the castle.

“Could you decide if you’re letting me in or not already?!” He wheezes out, the burn in his legs almost unbearable, each step feeling like he’s walking on glass as opposed to the rain-soaked grass. It’s unexpected, the way the castle seems to come to a near halt, swinging back on its legs to meet Sero’s next frantic step, the old man stumbling and falling against the stone stairs due to the momentum, hissing from the impact and the pain blooming in his shins and forearms.

He was going to be sore in the morning, shakily pulling himself up with help from both the ramshackle railing and his cane, eyeing the blue door before him before turning to regard the scarecrow, still bouncing after the castle, Sero wondering vaguely if it wanted more praise or if it was simply concerned for his wellbeing. “Thanks,” he says softly, half convinced the scarecrow hadn’t heard him only to witness the scarecrow perform the same bounce it had upon bringing him the stick.

The warmth that hits him upon opening the door is a welcome embrace, Sero walking in without a second glance to the scarecrow, closing the door softly as to avoid alerting anyone to his presence. He may be cursed, worn, far beyond the point of caring anymore but he by no means wished for more misfortunate upon himself, not today at least. Wooden stairs almost feel like a mountain as he climbs them, twelve steps feeling like twelve thousand, yet his lungs feel free, the squeeze of exhaustion having slowly eased out of them.

Sero spots the stool in the dim light of the fire, choosing to ignore the unkempt state of the room he’d entered for now, his sole focus being to sit down and just bask in the heat of the fire. His stick tapping against the floorboards and his grunts whenever he miss stepped where the only thing breaking the silence, Sero using what seemed to be the last of his energy to pull another couple of logs onto the fire before sinking onto the stool, full weight against the stick so he didn’t ultimately fall off.

“You’re not supposed to be in here.” The voice is as groggy as he feels, Sero staring at the slowly awakening fire, vaguely registering the grumpy face staring back at him from it. A fire with a face, off putting but not at all surprising, Sero too relaxed under the heat that seemed to melt his muscles and bones in peaceful welcome. It would take an act of god to move him at this point, that much he was sure of.

“I’m not supposed to be a lot of things.” He’s not supposed to be old. He’s not supposed to focus on work too much. He’s not supposed to attract the attention of witches and wizards. He’s not supposed to doubt his friend’s compliments. He’s not supposed to be sat in the castle of Ice Prince Shouto, having a conversation with the fire place about where or not he should have walked in from the wastes.

The fire regards him, a strange expression on its flames akin to impressed and humoured by Sero’s current state and, in all honesty, he isn’t sure which is worse. “Who the fuck did you piss off to have that happen?” The fire’s voice is gravely, like the crackle of burning wood, Sero finding himself slowly falling asleep only to jolt awake when there’s an annoyed shout of ‘wake up’ followed by an insult.

“I don’t know, didn’t think to ask for a name during the entire exchange.” He jokes, ignoring the unimpressed look on the fire’s flames, feeling the exhaustion begin to creep in once more. Would he still have been this fatigued if he were still his true age? He’s not sure, knowing he’s had stressful enough day to exhaust anyone. “If I can stay the night then I’ll be on my way before-”

“Do you want to break it?”

“Break what?”

“The curse.”  

The silence stretches on, the fire returning Sero’s dumbfounded look with one of mild annoyance. How does he answer that? Of course he wants to break the curse but what could a fire, sentient or not, do to help him? Sure, he had had his doubts about the scarecrow but this was different, the scarecrow could at least move but the fire was well and truly trapped in the hearth. “How do I know you actually want to help me and this isn’t another trick?”

It smirks at him, a little too on the feral side for Sero to feel fully comfortable with it, flames burning a little brighter with what he could only guess to be excitement. “Because you’re not the only one with a curse to break.” That made sense, he supposes, a fair trade of one broken curse for another, Sero wondering just how someone managed to curse a fire before it occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, the fire was in the same position as he was. “Do we have a deal?”

“Sero. My name is Sero.” He replies sleepily, all too ready to fall into the embrace of sleep as he yawned widely, slumping further onto his cane.

“Bakugou.”

“You’ve got a deal.” He mumbles more than says, finally giving himself over to the exhaustion.

[atlafan]

Take it Slow - Part Fifty-Eight

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

Warnings: Smut and Fluff.

Masterpost (all previous parts can be found in the masterpost)

You were laying there, stunned, mouth still hanging open. He wasn’t trying to pick a fight with you, he was simply trying to assert his dominance.

“Harry…I didn’t flirt with-“

“Ah-ah, don’t need to talk about it, yeh told me enough last night.” He nestles further onto your chest, and wraps his arm around your belly. “Actually your friends ratted you out.”

“They’re your friends too.”

“True…was that the most you’ve ever come in one in go?” You smirk.

“With you? Yeah.” He props his head up and furrows his brows at you.

“And just who else has made you come more than that?”

“Myself.” You giggle. His face relaxes and he rests on your chest again.

“How many times in a row have you gotten yourself off before?”

“Think my record’s ten.”

“Ten?!” He sits up fully to look at you. You’re getting annoyed, you just want to cuddle. “Ten times in a row? Weren’t you tired???”

“Exhausted, and sore.”

“When did you do that?”

“Um, a few years ago. I never really…knew how to touch myself when I was younger, and then one night I just sort of figured it out, so I started doing it more. And one night I just kept going. The friction from my hand just felt really good. It was incredible, I could barely talk the next day because my voice was so hoarse from making myself scream.” You were one hundred percent serious, but you knew it was also torture for him to know this. “Guess I got a little greedy with myself.”

“Hm.” He swallows hard. “Challenge accepted then.”

“Not right now!”

“No, not now. At some point though. I’ll beat your best.” He smirks. “All from your hand, you didn’t even use the vibrator?”

“Nope.”

“You’re a little wild, aren’t ya?” He kisses your smiling face.

“Maybe just a little. Now, can we just lay and hold each other, please?”

Harry chuckles and pulls you onto his chest, wrapping his arms around you. Your eyes flutter closed feeling exhausted and relaxed all at the same time.

//

“What’s this?” Harry asks, looking up at Isaac who just handed him a piece of paper.

“An invitation.”

“To what exactly?”

“St. Patrick’s Day party I’m having.” Harry looks him up and down.

“Isaac, you’re not Irish.”

“No, but that doesn’t mean I can’t party does it?” Harry looks down at the date on the paper.

“Listen, my best mate is actually Irish, like from Ireland, and he usually has a party. I could, um, try to stop by for a bit though since he does an all day thing.”

“Sure.” He tries to act cool. “Whatever works, just wanted you to feel included.” He smiles brightly.

“Thanks, means a lot.” Harry genuinely liked Isaac, he could see himself swinging by the party at some point. Maybe before things got too wild at Niall’s. “Wait.”

“Yeah?”

“Who else from here’s invited?” Isaac smirks at him.

“Everyone.”

“You’re a little too nice, you could be a little selective.”

“Bring Y/N with you, okay?” He shakes his head and leaves the office.

St. Patrick’s Day was a couple weeks away, he had plenty of time to decide what he wanted to do. Harry realizes that you weren’t at Niall’s party last year, or maybe you were, he honestly couldn’t remember. When he gets home from work that night he thinks to bring it up.

“Babe?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you do for St. Patrick’s Day?”

“Oh, the girls and I go to the parade in southie. My grandparent’s old apartment is on one of the sidestreets of the parade route, so I know the best place to stand. And then I think we spent the rest of the day at a pub last year.”

“You didn’t go to Niall’s last year?”

“I was supposed to, but I got too drunk.” You laugh. “We’ll go this year, yeah?”

“Definitely.” He smiles.

“Wanna come to the parade too? It’s a lot of fun.”

“Sure!” He pauses. “Isaac is havin’ a party too. Thought maybe we could swing by when there’s a lull at Niall’s.” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“You want to spend time with people from work? I’m shocked.”

“I like Isaac, and it would be rude to not at least swing by.”

“You don’t have to convince me, I’m game.”

“He invited everyone.”

“So?”

“So Mykenzie might be there…”

“And?”

“You wouldn’t care?”

“Harry.” You chuckle. “I’m the one fucking you, not her. I’m really unbothered.” You get up from the island and clean your plate from dinner.

He found your confidence and trust to be so sexy. He gets up to clean his plate as well. You kiss him on the cheek, and go out to the living room, plopping down on the sofa and grabbing your laptop. You had some homework to do. Harry sits next to you and turns the TV on. You think of something funny you saw on tik tok. You position yourself so your back is resting against the arm of the sofa. You position your phone, and start filming him. You sigh heavily. Harry whips his head to look at you.

“What’s wrong baby?”

“Nothing, just don’t feel doing my homework.”

“Aww.”

He closes your laptop, and moves it away. He crawls on top of you, making you giggle. You stop recording. You scratch the top of his head and give it a kiss.

“That was cute.”

“What?”

“Watch.” He turns his head to your phone.

“You were filmin’ me?”

“Mhm, watch, you’re so cute. Can I post this?” He sighs.

“I suppose. Did the other one get any likes?”

“You know, I haven’t checked. I’ve not been on the app.” You open it up and gasp. “Ten thousand! Popular trend.” You furrow your brows. “Look at all the comments!”

“He’s so hot, hot bf, looks like he was expecting you, those hands omfg.” He starts laughing.

“Definitely posting this one.” You upload the video and all the hashtags.

You both get cozy and watch the short videos together. Some making the both of you laugh and some that had you both rolling your eyes.

“Did you ever have vine?” You ask him.

“For a short bit, didn’t use it much though. Did you?”

“Oh yeah, I used it all the time. I’d stay up super late in school by accident watching videos. I’d laugh so hard I’d cry most nights.” You giggle. “Sometimes I’ll watch compilations on YouTube. I was genuinely crushed when they announced the app was cancelled.”

“Did you make a lot of videos?”

“Sure! Nothing ever this popular though. It’s a really fun and creative outlet.”

“Glad I could help yeh get some followers.” He grins.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Bet this’ll get thousands too. After all, I’m pretty hot.” You shake your head at him.

“Okay, I actually need to get my homework done now, get off.”

“I see, just use me for gains on the internet.” He fakes pouts.

“Now you’re getting it.” You both laugh.

//

On the morning of St. Patrick’s Day, you dig out your green crop top sweater, and a pair of dark blue skinny jeans. You put curls in your hair, and find your green Celtics hat. You knew it would be chilly. Harry throws on black jeans and the Celtics sweatshirt you had bought him specifically for today because you didn’t want someone murdering him while he wore his Packers sweatshirt. Your midriff was showing just enough that you could see your naval piercing.

“You look cute, baby.” He says, kissing you on the cheek.

“Thank you.” You look at your watch. “We gotta head to the T to meet everyone soon.”

“Alright.”

You head to the T and go the few stops you need to meet the girls, and then you uber the rest of the way to where your grandparents used to live. You point out the apartment to Harry. You get teary eyed, but shake it away as you walk down the street to stand on the sidewalk. You were happy you thought to wear a coat over your sweater because it was a tad windy. You stand in front of Harry, and he wraps both arms around your shoulders, resting his chin on the top of your head. Sarah takes a picture of the two of you.

“Harry, Mariah’s coming to Niall’s party later.” Rachel tells him.

“That’s great! We’re gonna see her at another friend’s party in a bit.”

“She mentioned you were going to swing by where she was. Isaac’s right?”

“Mhm. So you two have hung out a couple times then?”

“Yeah, we’ve gone to a movie here and there, dinner.” She smiles. “I like her.”

“She likes you too.”

The parade starts, and it’s as much fun as it always is. You all clap as the floats go by. You catch a ton of green beads that are flung at you, and you put one around Harry’s neck. After the parade you all head to Niall’s. He didn’t like parades. He was also busy getting his apartment ready for the day and night ahead.

“Hey everyone!” He kisses Sarah. “Thanks for lettin’ everyone up.” He kisses her again.

“Course.” She says with a smile.

“Right, well, I got the boiled dinner goin’, fridge is stocked with beer, got the bar set up too. And there’s lots of other snacks around.”

“It looks great in here, Niall.” You put your hand on his shoulder. You take your jacket off and hang it up.

“When are you guys goin’ t’Isaac’s?”

“Later this afternoon, just swingin’ by quick.” Harry explains. “Let’s have a pint, yeah?”

Harry and Niall both crack open a cold Guinness, and pour them into glasses. As you had gotten older you realized day drinking was way more fun than staying out for hours on end. You and the girls stick with vodka tonics for the time being. The three of you take cute pictures together.

“Oh! Let’s all kiss Niall on the cheek!” Sarah says. “Get it, cause he’s Irish?” She giggles.

“Good idea!” Rachel says. “It’ll be like Charlie’s Angels. Harry, come take our picture.”

“What are we doin’?” Niall asks. Everyone was starting to get slightly buzzed.

“We’re all going to kiss you on the cheek.” Sarah explains. “Hm, how can we get all three of us in here?”

“We should get all of us.” You say. “Harry can kiss the top of his head.”

“No way, Harry gets a cheek.”

“Let’s just each take a turn, and then we’ll get a couple of us on either side, I think that would look cute, but I’m the only when that gets those lips.” Sarah looks at Harry.

“What are yeh lookin’ at me for?”

“I’ve seen the Polaroids.”

“Jesus, fuck Niall.”

“What Polaroids?” You ask.

“Don’t worry about it.” Niall says. “Just take your pictures.”

You take a picture of Niall and Sarah kissing, and everyone awws. Next you and Rachel go on either side of him. You squeeze his cheeks between your thumb and forefinger, and you and Rachel kiss each of his cheeks, leaving lipstick behind. Harry’s jaw tenses when he watches you and Niall giggle. Had you kissed him before? It was only the cheek, but still.

“Alright, my turn.” Harry says grinning. “Gonna be a nice wet one too, c’mere.”

“Please, no, ahhhh gross!” Harry presses his tongue to Niall’s cheek just as you take the picture and everyone laughs. “You’re disgustin’.” Niall wipes his cheek off with the back of his palm.

“Harry we should go before we get too drunk.” You say grabbing your coat.

“Good thinkin’. Be back in a bit.”

You both wave to the group and leave. You knew the apartment would be filled with people when you got back, so you were happy to have the time to pregame together. You uber to Isaac’s apartment. It’s a quaint neighborhood. You and Harry had brought a case of beer with you to give to him. He holds your hand tight, he was a little nervous seeing so many people outside of work for the first time. He rings the buzzer and you’re both let up.

“Harry, you made it!” Isaac gives him a hug. “Hi Y/N.” He smiles.

“Hi Isaac! Here we brought this for you.” You hand him the case of beer.

“Thanks! Definitely going to need a lot of this today. C’mon in. I can take your coats.”

“Thanks.” You smile back. You and Harry hand him your coats.

There were plenty of people here already. Harry keeps his arm hooked around your waist. It was clear you were not to leave his side the entire time you were here. Which was perfectly fine with you. These are the moments you didn’t mind he was clingy. You both still had a good buzz going.

“There’s a keg in the living room, help yourselves.” You both walk further into the living area.

Julia and Dana are standing together near the keg. Ah yes, underage drinking, how fun for them. Their jaws drop when they see Harry, and they drop further when they see you, his pretty girlfriend. They weren’t expecting to see you almost sort of dressed like them. You pulled off the crop top look quite well.

“Hi girls.” You say to them smiling, grabbing two solo cups. You had hoped Julia crapped herself when she saw you, and by the way her cheeks flushed, maybe she had.

“I got it.” Harry says, tapping the keg and filling the cups. Julia bites the top of her cup. “Don’t worry, I won’t tattle on yeh.” She blushes. “I was in college once too.” He winks at them.

“We’re surprised to see you here.” Dana says.

“Why? Awfully rude to decline an invitation.”

Harry hands you your cup and puts his arm back around your waist. Julia has her eyes glued to you. Did you know about what happened? Of course you did, why wouldn’t Harry tell you?

“Well, we’re happy to see you, right Jules?”

“Yeah, super happy.”

“Surprised you two are at such an adult party.” He says.

“We have somewhere else to be later. Just here to pregame.” Dana explains.

“Myk’s here too.” Julia blurts out.

“Figured.”

“And Paige, and Mariah.” Harry nods.

“Myk brought her boyfriend too, H.” Dana says, nodding over to where they were standing and talking.

“Oh, good for her. Babe, let’s go find Mariah, yeah?”

“Alright. Nice to see you two again.” You smile at them as you walk away with Harry, his grip tightening on you.

“Babe, ugh, gag me.” Julia says quietly.

“How could you not be over him after everything that happened?”

“Because…look at him! He’s so fucking gorgeous, it’s not fair.” She sighs.

You and Harry find Mariah and say hello.

“Hey guys! Think I’ll leave when you do, Rachel invited me to your friend’s party.”

“Sounds good, yeah, she told us.” Harry smiles.

“You got your nose pierced! When can you put the hoop in?”

“Just a few more weeks, I’m itching to change it out.”

“I promise, you’ll be happy you did it this way. Makes it a lot easier to change them in and out.” You nod and take a sip of your beer. Isaac comes over to your little group.

“Everyone good?”

“Isaac, you are the perfect host.” Mariah says putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I do what I can.”

“Do you have a roommate, or do you live here alone?” Harry asks.

“With a roomie, he’s over there.” He points. “Some of his friends are here too.” You look around and see a few flamboyant looking people and smile. A couple of them walk over.

“Oo, girl, I don’t know you, but I have to tell you, this look, you are serving mama.” You giggle.

“Thanks! This sweater used to be longer, but I cut it up myself.” You get into conversation with the boys.

Harry feels more comfortable now, so he lets you go. He knew you were social and outgoing, he didn’t want to hinder you. Mykenzie and her boyfriend come over.

“Never thought I’d see you at one of these things.” She huffs.

“You can thank yourself for that.” She rolls her eyes at him and his jaw tenses. He’d slap her if he could, but she’d probably like it so what’s the use?

“Anyways, this is Brian, my boyfriend. Brian, this is Harry. He takes pictures for our studio.”

“Nice to meet you.” He smiles at Harry and shakes his hand. You catch the awkward exchange out of the corner of your eye.

“Likewise.”

Brian didn’t look anything like Harry. He had blonde hair and brown eyes, an odd combination. No apparent tattoos. You wondered how long they had been dating.

“So, where’s your girl?” She asks.

“Right there, making pleasant conversation.” He points to you. You smile at him and excuse yourself from your conversation, and go over to him. He kisses the top of your head through your hat. He snakes his arm back around your waist. “This is Y/N.”

“Hi, I’m Brian.”

“Hi.” You smile and shake his hand. “Nice to see you again.” You say to Mykenzie.”

“Yeah.” She says with a fake smile.

“Need another drink, Myk?” Brian asks her.

“Yeah, actually.” She smiles as he walks away.

“Need to use the loo, Mariah, know where it is?” Harry asks her.

“Yeah, follow me.” Mykenzie crosses her arms when she’s left with you.

“So…you two still doing well, then?”

“Mhm, really well.” She looks you up and down. “Cute outfit, very festive.”

“Thanks.” You smile.

“You’re younger than him, right?”

“Um, only by a year and a half.”

“Interesting.”

“Why?”

“Well…I just always thought he liked be the younger one.” You furrow your brows.

“Why, how old are you?”

“Just turned thirty this year.”

“That’s only a four year age difference.”

“Wow, you are smart.” Her voice littered with sarcasm. You roll your eyes at her. “Careful, he doesn’t like that very much.” Your mouth forms into a straight line. She was trying to make you mad, but this bitch really didn’t know who she was fucking with. You cross your arms and smirk.

“He likes it a lot, actually. Begs me to do it.” Her eyebrows raise. She’s never known Harry to beg for anything.

“That so?”

“Oh yeah. In fact, he begs me for a lot of things. You should see the look on his face when I tell him to wait, it’s priceless.” You take a coy sip of your drink. “But I don’t need to tell you, I’m sure you remember lots of things like that about him. Things I’m sure you’d love to throw in my face. But I’m sure that nice man over there getting you a drink wouldn’t appreciate hearing any of it, would he?”

“You think you’re a tough bitch, don’t you?”

“Oh, you poor, sweet, idiot. I don’t just think it, I know it. You think I have any reason to be afraid of you? Intimidated by you? You’re the last person I would ever be threatened by.”

Harry and Mariah return at the same as Brian does. He hands Mykenzie her drink.

“Thanks.” She says to him, her cheeks hot. Harry snakes his arm back around you.

“Alright?” He asks you, not having realized just who he left you alone with.

“Oh sure, we had a nice chat.” She rolls her eyes at you as she takes a sip of her drink. You feel Harry’s hand squeeze your hip.

So this is where it came from. No wonder he hated when you did it. It must remind him of her every single time you roll your eyes, whether it’s playful or not. The thing you weren’t sure of though was if he really truly hated it, or if the defiance of it turned him on so much it sent him into another state.

“Bought ready to go? I’d like to head back to Niall’s soon…”

“Sure! Yeah, lemme just find Isaac, gotta make the rounds and all that.” You nod.

“Nice seeing you again, and it was so nice to meet you Brian, you have a really great girl here.”

Your sarcasm isn’t lost on Harry. He knew whatever you two talked about wasn’t good. You and Mariah follow Harry around. He gives Isaac a hug goodbye. He waves to Dana and Julia, and then turns to the two of you.

“Ready ladies?” You both nod, and head out to your uber.

You get up inside Niall’s, and there were a ton of people there just like you knew there would be. Once you get settled, Harry pulls you down the hall where there were less people.

“What’s up?”

“Did Myk say anything weird to you?”

“Weird? No.” You smirk. “She wanted to start something with me, but I put her in her place.”

“Okay, but what did she-“

“Don’t worry about it. S’not important. C’mon, there’s a party, let’s drink.”

You go out to find Sarah and Rachel. Rachel was talking with Mariah. They both looked excited to see each other. You decide to leave them alone. You find Sarah by the makeshift bar Niall had put together.

“Shots?” She asks.

“Shots.”

She slices up a lime and hands you the salt as she gets two shot glasses. Harry watched the entire thing. How you slowly lick the back of your hand to get the salt on there, and how you lick at it again before you tip your head back. He watches you sink your teeth into the juicy lime and suck everything out of it, juice rolling down your chin. You use the back of your hand to wipe yourself off. You and Sarah giggle as she makes you both a margarita. Your third type of alcohol for today.

“You’re back!” Niall slaps Harry’s back.

“I wish Lou was here…” Harry pouts.

“I know, he just couldn’t make it to this one. Think he had Freddie this weekend.”

“Can’t blame him for that.” He sighs.

“C’mon, let’s have a drink.”

Harry and Niall go into the fridge and they each crack open a beer. You sip your margarita happily as you chat with Sarah. You knew you were going to get hammered, but you needed to nurse your drinks so you wouldn't throw up. You looked over at Harry, who looked absolutely delicious in your now hazy eyes. You wanted his cock in your mouth, and you wanted it now. He looks over at you and does a double take. He instantly recognized the look on your face as he met your gaze.

“Shit.” He says under his breath.

“What?” Niall asks innocently.

“Hm, oh, nothin’.” Harry smiles awkwardly. Niall looks over at you, and he can see the look on your face too as Sarah absentmindedly talks your ear off.

“Look, if you’re gonna do that again here, could ya clean up? Yeh left the guest bath a mess, and Eleanor thought I was a slob.”

“What? How? How do you know-?”

“Was painfully obvious. You both disappeared.”

“You don’t care?”

“Why the fuck would I?” He shrugs and then grins. “When yeh finally have that house warmin’ don’t be surprised if I fuck Sarah in some random room as payback.” They both laugh and walk over to you and Sarah.

Niall distracts Sarah with a kiss while Harry yanks you down the hall, and into the guest bath, locking both doors like you had done on New Year’s.

“How’d you know?” You breathe against his neck.

“I’d know that look anywhere.” You get on your knees and start undoing his belt and pants.

“Just want it in my mouth, you can fuck me when we get home later, yeah?” He nods.

You tug his jeans down just enough, and take his cock out of his boxers. You don’t even pump him first, you just wrap your mouth right around him, and moan. He grips the counter behind him, watching your eyes flutter closed as you swirl your tongue around him.

“Fuck.” He groans.

Your hands were secure on his hips while you bobbed your head up and down him slowly, trying to take as much of his as you could. He pushes his hips forward slightly and you gag on him as he hits the back of your throat. You come off him for a second just catch your breath.

“Sorry, angel. Got excited.” He breathes.

“S’okay.”

You’re back on him instantly, and you moan at the salty tastes as your tongue slides over his leaking slit. You hear him let out a breathless moan. You take him deep, and suck on him hard until you have him panting.

“Gonna come.” He moans, and it’s music to your ears. “Y/N, gonna fill that pretty mouth up.”

You groan against him. You had to be soaked through, but you’d deal with that later. You feel his come shoot into your mouth and you take it all. You slide off him and swallow every last drop. You stand up and rinse your mouth out quick while he pulls his pants back up. He rubs your back for a moment while you catch your breath.

“Sure I can’t do anythin’ for yeh, love?” You smile and kiss his cheek.

“You just did. S’all I wanted. Just wanted to, hic, taste you.” You were drunk, this you were sure of. You hear some Nicki Minaj song come on. Damn the music was loud. “Shit, I love this song.”

You practically race out of the bathroom, and guest room with Harry not too far behind. You find Rachel and Sarah and the three of you start dancing. Harry’s face was absolutely flushed. Mariah comes over to him.

“Dontcha wanna dance with ‘em?”

“Nah, I’m fine watching the show.” She looks at him. “You okay? Your cheeks are really red.”

“Just the alcohol, love.” She smirks at him.

“Sure it is.”

“Oh shut up.” He nudges her. “How are things with Rach?”

“Good! Think we’re going to hang out later in the week.”

“Can I ask a personal question?”

“Sure.”

“Have yeh kissed or anythin’?”

“Yes.” She giggles. “The other day, but that’s all we’ve done. She said she moved too fast with the last person she was with and just wanted to take things slow for a while. Which I’m perfectly fine with. No need to rush.”

“Right.” He nods, and looks back at you dance with your friends.

“They really know how to move, huh?”

“Oh, you have no idea. You should see them at a club. They’re crazy.”

“Especially Y/N.”

“Keep your eyes on your own girl.” She nudges him. “Kidding.”

“No you’re not.” She snorts. “You’re a possessive guy Harry. You’re possessive with your equipment, your shoots, and the people in your life. You barely let her go at Isaac’s.”

“That was due to nerves. Bad enough I left her alone with Myk.”

“Why did you sleep with her anyways?”

“I was younger and stupid. Thought she’d be a quick and easy fuck, and she was, until it continued…for far too long. Least she has a boyfriend now, she bothers me way less.”

“I swear she’d pounce at the chance to fuck you with the way she looks at you sometimes in our staff meetings.” She laughs.

“Any one of them would, I’m afraid.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Am I that good looking? Honestly?”

“Harry, I’m a very gay woman…but honestly…I’d take a ride.” She smirks and they both burst out laughing.

You eventually get Harry to come dance against you when Niall joins Sarah. Mariah eventually joins Rachel, but the two opt to sit on the couch together to chat. You grind your butt up against Harry’s pelvis in time with the music. Niall had put a great playlist together.  

“Hey, we’re gonna go.” Rachel says putting her coat on. “Mariah said she’d help me get home.”

“Oh!” You practically lunge at her with hug. “Let me know when you get back!”

“Okay! Thanks for everything Niall.”

“Glad yeh could make it.” He slurs.

“See you Monday, H.” Mariah gives Harry and you a hug. “Good to see you Y/N.”

“Same to you, bye!” You watch them leave. “They are so cute!” You kiss Harry on the cheek. “Good job.”

Harry had you up over his shoulder when it was time to go. You had drank so much with Sarah that you could barely walk. You were still singing along to whatever music was playing while Harry carried you around to say his goodnights. Sarah was about to pass out when she gave Harry a loose hug.

“Night mate, thanks again.”

“Night! Safe travels.” He chuckles.

“Niall!” You yell from behind Harry. He walks around and bends down to meet your face. “Lemme smoosh that little face.” You grab his cheeks. “I had so much fun today, you throw the bessssst parties, I love you.”

“I love you too.” He giggles and you let go of him. He kisses your forehead making you giggle.

“Alright, I’m takin’ her home before you two start makin’ out behind me.” Harry huffs.

“Chill, not where my lips wanna be.” He nods towards Sarah.

Harry walks out with you still over his shoulder. You didn’t mind being carried by him until you realize Michael would be at the desk when you got back.

“Harry put me down! I don’t want anyone in the lobby to see me like this.”

“You can barely walk.”

“Gimme a piggyback ride then.” You smack his butt as he crosses the street.

“Oi!”

“I’ll do it again!” You smack his butt again.

“Jesus!” He sets you down and crouches in front of you so you can get on his back. “Alright?”

“Mhm, much better.” You rest your chin on his shoulder as he hooks his arms under legs, and stands effortlessly. “You’re so strong, baby.”

“I know.” He sighs as he enters the building. Luckily there were other drunk people stumbling in.

Michael looks up and smiles at the two of you, you wave to him.

“Can we say hi to Michael, pleasseeeee, poor thing didn’t get to enjoy the holiday.” Harry sighs again but does as you ask. He knew you’d keep whining if he didn’t. “Hi Michael.”

“Hi Miss Y/L/N, Mr. Styles.” He smiles. “Have a nice St. Patrick’s Day?”

“The best! Did you get to enjoy it at all?”

“I did! Just came in a couple hours ago actually. Opted for the night shift so I could hang out with friends earlier.”

“That’s nice. We were with friends all day. Our best friend lives across the street.”

“That’s nice.” You smile big at him.

“Right, well, we’re gonna head up now.”

“Goodnight.” He smiles as you wave.

Harry gets you two into the elevator, you still secure on his back.

“Michael is so nice, Harry.”

“I know.”

“How come you’re not drunk?”

“I am.”

“You’re not acting like it.”

“I started drinking water over an hour ago, unlike some people.” The elevator door opens and he makes his way with you down the hall and into your apartment.

“Didn’t want any.”

“Well, you’re going to drink some now.” He brings you right into the kitchen and sets you down on top of the island. He unzips your jacket for you and you shimmy it off while he fills a glass of water for you. “Let’s go, slow sips.” You shake your head no. “I’m not kiddin’, c’mon.”

“I wanna dance some more.”

“I dare you to try and stand on your own two feet right now.”

“Fine.” You hop off the counter and immediately lose your balance, landing on your butt. You start laughing. Harry sits down next to you, leaning against the island.

“Please, drink the water. You’re gonna have a massive headache tomorrow if you don’t.”

“It’s already tomorrow.” You take your temple knowingly.

“Y/N, for the love of god, drink the fuckin’ water.”

“Why are you getting mad at me?” You pout.

“M’not.” He sighs.

“You swore at me, you’re mad. And I was so nice to you earlier, I let you come in my mouth.”

“Yes, you did.”

“So be nice to me.”

“I’m tryin’.”

“Ask me nicely, Harry.”

“Y/N, would you please drink this water?”

“Fine.” You snatch it from him and take slow sips. Your eyes feel droopy, and you lean your head back against the island.

“Can’t fall asleep, love.”

“M’not.” You take more sips of the water.

You eventually hand him the glass of water, and you climb your way up to your feet. You close your eyes and then open them again. The room felt like it was spinning.

“Shit.”

“What?”

“I have the spins, fuck.” You clutch at the counter.

“Are you gonna throw?”

“I…I don’t know, help me get to the bedroom, please, I’ll lay on the rug.” Harry picks you up and carries you to the bedroom. You start giggling.

“What’s so funny?”

“You’re like my prince, no, you’re better than a prince. You’re like a knight in shining armor.” You nuzzle into his chest as he sits you on the bed.

“Let’s getcha outa these clothes, hm?” You nod.

You lift your arms up so he can take your sweater off. He reaches around you to unhook your bra, effortless as usual.

“You’re too good at that.” You say as it drops to the floor.

“Lots of practice, I’m afraid. Stand up.” You use use shoulders to steady you as he takes your pants and underwear off.

“Can I wear that t-shirt to bed? You know that one I really like?”

“My uni T?”

“Mhm, please, I really wanna wear it.”

Harry rummages through his dresser for the shirt, and helps you put it on. It hugs around your thighs.

“Makes me feel like I’m one of your college hookups.” You giggle.

“And you like that?”

“S’fun to play pretend sometimes.”

“You’re killin’ me.” He shakes his head. “C’mon, you’ll be pissed if you don’t wash your face.”

He gets you into the bathroom, and grabs one of your scrunchies to put your hair up with. He runs the water and grabs a washcloth. He gets your makeup off. Your eyes flutter closes as he does so. He washes his hands before lathering them up with your face wash. It was like you were getting a facial. After thirty seconds he wipes it all off with the cloth. Next you each manage to brush your teeth.

“I need t’pee.”

“Alright, let me help you to the toilet.”

“I don’t want you to watch me pee!”

“You could easily pass out on that toilet. I’ve been in the bathroom with you plenty of times while you’ve wee’d, I’ll turn around.” You nod.

You sit down to pee, wipe yourself, and flush. He turns back around and helps you up. You wash your hands quick.

“Stay right there, now I need t’wee.” He does so quickly. You look up and away. You hear him zip up his pants and then suddenly you’re being lifted. “Still have the spins?”

“No, but I’m sure the second I lay down I will.” You chuckle against his neck. “Thank you for taking such good care of me.”

“Course. You’d do the same.” He lays you down on your stomach.

“I really would.” He strips himself of his clothes and climbs in next to you. You turn your head slightly to face him.

“Hey, um…” He rolls over onto his side to face you. “How come you wanted to squish Niall’s face before we left?”

“I wanted to do what? Ugh, fuck. Yeah, I need to sleep on the floor, I feel like I’m swimming.”

You grab your pillow and throw it to the floor. You drag half the blankets with you as you make it to the floor. Harry crawls to the edge of the bed to look at you. You curl up and sigh.

“Better?” He asks.

“Mhm.”

“Alright make room.”

“No, stay on the bed. What if your back hurts?”

“I won’t be able to sleep with you…” It’s a shameless admission, but he’s still sort of embarrassed.

Harry grabs his pillows, and the comforter, and joins you on the floor. He wraps his arms around you and you back up into him. You prayed you wouldn’t need to throw up. You felt less spinney being on the floor, so that was a good sign. You feel yourself drift off to sleep slowly, and thankful that tomorrow was not a work day.

[another-bloody-multimuse]

CRUELLA DE VIL - What is your muse’s fashion style? for everyone because I love clothes headcanons

Disney villain asks!

Penelope: A combination of fancy/expensive jewellery and casual clothing. Usually with some level of cleavage on display. Think gold, precious stones (fake diamonds, though), ridiculously tall high heels, painted nails. Usually in different shades of pink. Darker pinks accompanied with black, lighter pinks accompanied with complimentary colours or white. Clothes are often figure hugging, albeit not ridiculously skin tight.

The extravagance/expense is toned down a lot for main verse/Team Skull Pen, though is still in full force for her Team Magma and Flare incarnations. Flare Pen specifically is also often seen in oranges and blacks, as fitting of someone often seen hanging off Lysandre Delannoy's arm. A hint of alternative fashion in Skull Pen's look, or "goth lite" basically, thanks to Guzma's influence.

Examples: [x] [x] [x]

Alder: Comfort is king, so his clothes are easy to move in. And sometimes a little on the shabby side, as well. Doesn't really bother if things are a touch of the threadbare side, and likes the aesthetic a poncho gives him. Often chooses quite neutral colours, shades of whites, blacks, beige. Maybe with a bit of pale orange thrown in to compliment his hair colour, too.

Knit sweatshirts, maybe a long-ish cardigan over a t-shirt.

Examples: [x] [x] [x]

Guzma: Baggy, black and white, with maybe a bit of gold or purple thrown in for good measure. Tries to go for a typical "hard man"/"gangster" type look. Sometimes with big, chunky gold chains, drop crotch joggers, trainers, akin to his canon look. Sometimes a more punk aesthetic, in a Sex Pistols vibe. Albeit accidentally, since they were before his time.

Piercings, partially shaved hairstyles, tattoos, spikes all appeal, too. Doesn't have any real tattoos yet, but will probably get some in the future. Doesn't have any immediately visible piercings. I'll, uh, let you come to your own conclusions there.

Oh, and rude shirts. Can be rude because it's just the word "FUCK" in giant letters, can be rude because it's offensive and/or sexually crude. If it's a t-shirt you wouldn't want someone to wear around your kids, it'll suit Guzma perfectly.

Examples: [x] [x] [x] [x]

Océane: A toned down version of Pen. She'll occasionally rock some expensive jewellery, but her tastes are generally less ridiculously priced and more down to earth. Lavenders and lilacs are popular with her, as are form fitting t-shirts and jeans. Often seen with short nails and a natural makeup look.

Jewellery tastes are usually kept to something black and gold. Not opposed to wearing heels, though as no stranger to working hard gardening, the nail polish and heels are much less of a guarantee with her than, say, Pen or Oleana.

Formalwear depends on the type of event. She has been seen dressed up to the nines as expected of someone from a royal bloodline, in a red and black theme, but sometimes if appropriate will wear a white trouser suit, with some gold jewellery on the more understated side of things.

Examples: [x] [x] [x] [x] [x]

Sinclair: Sinclair basically has two modes when it comes to his dress sense. Suave, sophisticated, formal. Or a Pokeverse Joe Lycett.

Sinclair is quite typical of a Rich Person, with no qualms about spending obscene amounts of money on ridiculously expensive clothing. Out of his siblings (Océane and Lysandre @nats-rp-world), he's the least down to earth by far. Signet rings, ridiculous amounts of gold and precious gems (though was probably talked out of real diamond jewellery). Waistcoats, cufflinks, shiny shoes, ties, you get the idea. In cool greys and blues.

And then Pokeverse Joe Lycett Mode is. Well. Anything goes. Fluffy, hot pink, leopard or zebra print, leather, sunglasses

Examples: [x] [x] [x] [x] [x]

Ghetsis: Oh. Oh God. Where do I even begin?

Pre-Plasma, he probably favoured expensive suits and jewellery similar to Sinclair when dressed as a human being and not a Muppet. With the addition of sunglasses regardless of the weather/location to hide his scarred eye. During and post-Plasma, however, when he stopped giving a fuck, he leant hard into his occult aesthetic and basically started dressing like the evil cult leader that he became.

While he has an interest in occult/supernatural/paranormal symbolism in general, his personal aesthetic has always been toward eyes, including Turkish nazars and the Egyptian Eye of Horus.

Plasma-era Ghetsis favoured long, elaborately made flowing robes, especially ones that allowed his scarred arm to be concealed completely, and/or ones with a very high collar to hide his lopsided mouth. And yet still had the audacity to pretend not to be completely evil. My man is not subtle.

Post-Plasma Dennis is just as up his own butthole with fancy, elaborate clothing. Just more with a royal theme, because hey, now everyone knows that he was the team's true king, why not lean into that particular aesthetic? Other than all the reasons of being a decent human being that we can immediately think of. Some kind of half cape or a way to hide his injured arm, gloves included, are still very much welcomed.

Examples: [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x]

Lance: Capes, capes, capes, capes, capes, capes. My boy loves a good cape.

Often seen in his dragon master outfit, or a variation of it, which there are several. Normally in dark blues, a bit of orange, and a black and red cape. Though he does have an outfit that's more red than blue, as well, ala LGPE. Though in the summers, he's more likely to be seen wearing traditional garb instead, to try and keep cool.

He favours a red, white and gold version of the outfit, due to his own Gyarados being shiny. But he does also have a black and blue version.

For shits and giggles, he also got a version of his dragon master outfit in the colours of Dragonite, though it hasn't seen much use yet. Not after Cynthia found out about it and mercilessly took the piss.

Has probably leant into his black and red (ish) cape's aesthetic to dress up as a vampire on Hallowe'en. A more casual outfit tends to be simple, jeans, jacket, t-shirt and boots. Something that can be easily thrown on.

Examples: [x] [x] [x] [x] [x]

Giovanni: Suits all the way. Giovanni likes to look good, and he's damn well aware of when he does. Suits range from form to business casual, maybe sometimes with a turtleneck in lieu of a shirt. His outfits scream class and sophistication.

The mob boss look of a fedora and long coat has been retired, but he still appreciates the aesthetic.

And then sometimes he just dads out in Hawaiian shirts, shorts and sandals. No socks, though, he's not a complete heathen.

Silver must be so proud.

Examples: [x] [x] [x] [x] [x]

Marnie: Black teamed with pastel pink, leather, spikes. Basically punk aesthetic. Marnie joins Guzma in an appreciation for tattoos, shaved hairstyles and piercings, and like Ghetsis (no, I didn't expect this comparison, either), has an interest in occult symbolism. Though Marnie's interests more lie in witchcraft than general occultism.

Examples: [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x]

Mustard: Sports jackets and jaunty hats. Like Alder, Mustard prefers clothes that are easy to move in. Which is understandable, given the fact that this is a ripped old man who is still in sufficient shape to perform fuckin' flips and shit.

He's often seen exercising in a karate gi. Barefoot if he's in the dojo, and in trainers if he's outside. Which granted, don't really go together, but it's Mustard. Eccentric old man gives zero fucks.

As well as the hat he's seen in game, he also takes a shine to pork pie and bowler hats. Usually in darker colours, but brightened up with a nice teal, or yellow. Sometimes he'll sport a t-shirt with something silly/funny on it. Though unlike Guzma, his can actually be appropriately worn in public.

Examples: [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x]

Rose: Professional Farhad favours fancy suits, usually in a sleek grey, accented with red. A suit in general will do the job for him when he has to look formal, but that's definitely his preferred signature look. No matter what, however, his tie will be sporting a rose knot. The rose knot is non-negotiable. Partly for the obvious reason of relating to his name, but also because it just looks damn impressive.

He often keeps an earring in one ear and a lot of the time it's an impressive looking stud, but unlike the more pretentious (or wanky) muses like Ghetsis or Sinclair, Farhad doesn't care about getting the real deal, the most expensive thing. A simple stud or hoop is plenty sufficient.

Professional mode or not, he's also not even slightly afraid to rock some eyeliner. It makes him look amazing and he doesn't give a shit about how "socially acceptable" it is for a man, and doesn't try and make it sound more masculine by referring to it as "guyliner".

When partaking in religious holidays, he opts for a simple black yarmulke.

Casual Rose isn't quite as eye-bleedingly horrible as in the past. He might still try and disguise himself with a pair of sunglasses and a change of wardrobe, but no more eye-watering polka dot shorts. His non-professional wear leans more toward business casual nowadays, seeing how "incognito mode" never really worked. So on a day to day basis, he's seen in polo shirts and jeans, often in varying shades of purple or red.

Examples: [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x]

Leon: Who wears short shorts? Leon wears short shorts! Leon is often seen in clothes that can be easily exercised in. Partly because he does a lot of it, and partly because he likes that they tend to draw attention to his figure. Little shirts, tight tops and one of the many, many hats from his collection.

He is also a fan of neon 80s patterns. Particularly the neon ones that look like the carpet in an arcade. He also genuinely enjoys a nice regal, fur lined cape. It's just a shame that he decided to plaster sponsorships all over the back of it...

Examples: [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x]

Peony: In contrast to the bright orange expedition outfit that he debuted in, Peony's fashion sense is quite toned down and dark. Greys and black mainly. During his teens, however, he was another one for punk fashion.

Like Rose, he also unashamedly wears makeup, and is occasionally seen with a yarmulke during holidays (Hashem verse only).

Examples: [x] [x] [x] [x]

Oleana: Minus the odd choker that Oleana enjoys wearing, her fashion sense is more often than not kept looking professional, in shades of red and black. Rose themed jewellery is a lot of the time considered too "on the nose", but every now and then she'll indulge.

She keeps her nails professionally manicured, painted red, and short. And similarly to Pen, has a penchant for high heels.

Examples: [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x]

Maxie: A lot of the times, Maxie keeps it simple in the Hoenn heat, in just shirts and shorts. Accompanied by socks and sandals, unfortunately. But still. He finds the whole disgust of socks/sandals to be overdone, and therefore won't let it stop him from wearing them if he wants to.

And then sometimes he'll find something really truly, spectacularly hideous and be unable to resist buying it just for shits and giggles.

Examples: [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x]

Bede:

This probably goes without saying.

Any and all shades of pink are fair game for Bede, usually with blue jeans and white trainers, for everyday wear. He likes to accessorise with the gold watch from Rose, and a choker, either plain black, or in subtle bi pride colours depending on how confident he's feeling about his sexuality. He also has his ears pierced, and an industrial bar through one.

Also, being a teenage edgelord, it's not unexpected to see him in tops that have slogans like "I don't care", "I hate everyone", or something else equally delightful printed on the front.

A few things with a rose on them are in his wardrobe as well, because... well, Father.

And the toe shoes have long since been binned.

Examples: [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] 

[idontgiveaflyinggrayson69]

Is Six Okay?

Author: Nat / @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69​

Requested: Yes – Anonymous

Fandom: NHL  

Relationship: Pre-Established; Travis Dermott x Reader

Summary: Travis has a crush on you and he finally gets the courage to ask you out.

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: None.

Travis had a crush on you for a while. Ever since you started working for the Leafs, you had his eye. You worked an office job for the Leafs, working on gathering stats for the coaching staff. You gathered stats about the teams and players they were facing, but you also gathered stats for the Leafs players.

You were at every Leafs’ practice with your computer, writing down all the information you needed for Keefe and company.

And since you were at every practice, Travis saw you a lot. He saw you basically every day and he thought you were beautiful and he loved your smile and how you were bundled up in a sweater holding a mug in the stands.

His teammates caught on pretty quickly that he had a crush on you and they continuously teased him about it.

And they made sure to talk to you, too.

You talked to a lot of the guys. They were all good guys and they made you feel welcome. You didn’t hang out with them or really know any of them, but they never ignored you, and they made sure to include you in debates and conversations during and after practice, which was something you really liked.

Travis loved your answers and laugh. And the guys loved to tease him about how fond he looked whenever you said something that agreed with him.

After a few weeks of knowing about his crush on you and him not doing anything about it, the guys decided to take things into their own hands. They were just too tired of having to listen to Travis talk aboutyou and then not talk toyou.

They started talking to you during and after practice more. And they started to ask you ‘subtle’ questions about things you liked and if you liked anyone and how you felt about certain things followed by “Travis thinks the same,” and things like that.

It didn’t take long for Travis to catch on to what they were doing and he completely flipped out. He didn’t want his feelings to come out and you not feel the same and then he looks like a fool and still has to see you every day. People aren’t supposed to mix pleasure and business together for a reason.

But, after a couple stern conversations with the team *cough cough, Mo and Tyson*, Travis decided to finally ask you out.

He came up to you after practice. He showered and he was dressed in sweat pants and a Leafs hoodie.

“Hey,” he said as he walked up to you.

You were packing up your bag. You finished zipping the bag up and stood up, giving Travis a smile. “Hi.”

“How are you doing?” He asked, giving you the signature Dermott smile. You had to admit that he had a great smile. He had a lot of great things… You had a crush on Travis since you started working for the Leafs.

You thought that Travis was hot before you started working for the Leafs, but seeing him in person, him goofing around at practice, his laugh, how much he cares for all of his teammates and he’s willing to stand up for them, your crush on him grew.

“I’m good, how are you? You looked good out there.”

“I’m good, too, and thanks. We’re all trying out best.” He answered. God, he had such a nice voice.

“I know. All of you guys work so hard.” You replied with a soft smile.

Travis took a deep breath, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. It was a stereotypical guy move, but he certainly looked hot doing it. It helped that his action pulled the bottom of his hoodie up to expose the lower skin of his stomach. Hot.

“Do you have any plans tonight?” He asked and your heart picked up a bit. Then it dropped as you figured that he was not about to ask you out, but probably just to hang out with the guys or something. No way he feels the same.

You shook your head. “Nope, why?” You answered, trying to keep your cool.

“Did you maybe want to go out with me?” Travis asked, a smile playing on his lips making his dimples pop. Your heartbeat picked up. You didn’t think that Travis felt the same as you did.

“Yeah,” you smiled back, and his smile widened. “Yeah, I would really like that.”

“Great. There’s this outdoor skating rink by my place. How does that sound?” He asked, his voice soft as he spoke to you. His voice was always so even. You loved that about him.

“A Toronto Maple Leaf is going to take me skating?” You asked jokingly, leaning towards him a little bit. He was already close to you, but you wanted to lessen the distance as much as you could.

“Yeah, if you’ll let me.” He answered softly, taking half a step closer to you after you leaned towards him.

“I would, I think it would be fun. As long as you don’t let me fall that is.” You kept smiling, joking with Travis.

“I would never let that happen.” Travis said, nothing joking about it. It was sweet and you let your smile soften before reaching out to touch his arm.

“I know.”

His eyes drifted down to your hand on his arm. “Is six okay?”

You nodded. “I’m looking forwards to it.”

You gave him your number and address and he walked back towards the locker room with a smile, leaving you to finish packing up.

--

Six o’clock could not come fast enough. Since you left the Leafs’ practice that morning, you were thinking about your date with Travis. You were so happy.

Once you got home, you started getting ready even though you knew that the date wasn’t until six. You showered, picked out your outfit, and got your gloves and hat all together. After a small dinner around four, you got dressed and started doing your hair and make up.

It was 5:55 when there was a knock on your door. You sprayed yourself with perfume and went to answer the door. As expected, Travis was on the other side of the door dressed in jeans, a jacket and a toque.

“Hey,” he said and a moment later, “you look beautiful.”

You smiled and you willed yourself not to blush as you opened the door up more for him to come in. “You look really good, too. Just give me a minute, I’ll go grab my stuff.”

“No rush.” Travis smiled and took a seat on your couch as you went and grabbed your skates, and put on your coat, hat and gloves.

“All set.” You said with a smile, coming out of your room all bundled up, your skates over your shoulder.

“Perfect,” he said with a smile. He never stopped smiling when he was around you.

--

You guys sat side by side on a bench tying your skates. “Listen, I know how to skate, but I don’t do it for a living like you, so don’t judge me.”

He laughed. “I would never. And I’ll be here to catch you if you blow a tire.”

“Thanks,” you smiled. “But I’m not going to fall.”

It was nice skating on the outdoor rink with Travis. It was cold, but it wasn’t that bad. It was dark out and the rink was lit up with lights.  

As you skated together, you guys were able to talk and you guys realized you had plenty in common and Travis was able to make you laugh time and time again. It was perfect and you had a blast.

After about half an hour of skating, your skate caught a divot in the ice and you slip. You would have fallen, but Travis caught you and pulled you to his chest before you could fall. Your breath caught in your throat as you gripped the front of Travis’ coat, his arms wrapped around your waist. Your faces were just inches apart. If you leaned in just a little, you could kiss him.

“I think you just fell for me.” Travis whispered, pulling you out of your trance.

“I think I did a long time ago.” You whispered back. At your reply, Travis’ eyes moved down to your lips. He leaned forwards just a smidge before he brought his eyes back up to yours, looking to see if you were okay with it. You closed the distance between the two of you as an answer.

The kiss was soft and wonderful. You pulled back after a few moments, a smile playing on your lips. Travis was smiling too, but his smile had a bit of mischief in it. Before you could ask about it, he said, “I believe you said that you were going to fall.”

[justlightlysedated]

i’ll keep you like an oath

five times michael says he's married and no one believes him, and one time they do 

one.

Maria slides over the tray full of beers to one of the servers, and grabs the rag to wipe down the counters glancing at the clock.

Her shift is over in a few minutes and her mom did promise that she could have the night off.

Maria wanted to go dancing, and maybe pick up someone hot who wouldn't mind being used to blow off a little steam.

Her gaze passes over Michael Guerin sitting in the corner of the bar, nursing the same beer he's had for the last hour or so.

Maria had asked if he wanted a fresh one or even a refill for one of his drinks, but he'd just told her that he was taking it easy.

There was something about him tonight that Maria couldn't quite put her finger on, but it was something that made her want to try and see if he was as good as some of the rumors about him said that he was.

Tonight would be the night to try, he wasn't drunk and spoiling for a fight or trying to seduce half the bar, and he had actually put in an effort into his appearance. His shirt actually looked new, without any holes or oil stains anywhere. His jeans were too faded to be new, but they weren't torn anywhere. Even his hair was tamed when he'd taken the cowboy hat off, and while he wasn't clean shaven, it was obvious that he'd made an attempt to shave as well.

He looked good, and Maria knew it might be a bad idea, but given his reputation, he wasn't going to follow her around like a love sick fool after a roll around in the sack.

Decision made, she drops the rag back down in its spot and casts a look over to the mirror to make sure that she still looks as good as she did when she got down to the bar.

She makes her way over to him, and he's already leaning back in his chair and giving her a sweet smile.

"You've passed by my table more times tonight than any other night, is there something that I can do for you?"

Maria smiles back at him, and tries not to bristle at the fact that she wasn't being subtle at all.

"Actually," she says and leans over the table slightly, knowing exactly how the move exposes her cleavage even more. "There is."

Michael raises an eyebrow, but his gaze doesn't stray away from her face.

"A few of us are going to the new place that just opened up on the corner of Sixth and Main, and I was wondering if you wanted to tag along. Maybe dance a little. Buy me a drink that I don't have to make myself.

"Sorry," he says, and while his tone sounds apologetic there is something in his eyes that tells her he's not sorry at all. "Wish that I could, but I'm busy tonight."

"Yeah?" She asks just a little put out, but mostly wanting to know what exactly is so important that he would say no when he's constantly flirting and she's always telling him no.

"Yeah," he says, and gives her a little shrug. "My husband is back in town."

Maria feels the rush of embarrassment at the rejection hit her full force and she leans back away from Michael, giving him a look.

"You know if you're not interested that's all you had to say. There's no reason for you to lie."

Michael's face falls, and he opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, Maria turns and heads back over to the bar.

She ducks into the supply room and spends the last few minutes of her shift, pretending to look for a bottle and hoping the mortification goes away before she has to go back out there and face him again.

By the time Maria makes it back out to the bar, her shift has been over for fifteen minutes and Michael is nowhere to be seen.

She exhales in relief and waves goodbye to Drew as he takes his spot behind the bar.

Looks like another story that she's not going to tell Alex when they meet up tomorrow for breakfast before his flight back to Washington, but she still has plenty of other ones to keep him entertained.

two.

Isobel is happy, seriously very happy, but if she has to sign one more paper, she's going to tell Noah that they're never getting married.

She makes a noise, and Michael passes over the bottle of acetone he'd been sipping from, but she just pushes his hand away.

"No wonder no one is getting married these days," she says with a sigh, and turns to look at him tired of seeing black and white. "If I had known there was this much paperwork involved, I would've told Noah, no."

Michael just rolls his eyes. "You're marrying a lawyer, of course there is paperwork, but also, you should've just gone straight to the court, the church has way too many papers and restrictions, because they want you to be one hundred percent sure."

Michael tips the bottle to his mouth, taking a swallow, and Isobel just watches him with a raised eyebrow.

Michael just looks back at her with a furrowed brow.

"How do you even know that?" She asks. "Was one of your one night stands a court clerk?"

Michael just shrugs and looks away, shoulders hunching a little. "I know because that's how I did it."

"Did what?" She asks narrowing her eyes.

Michael sighs, "Got married. I'm married."

Isobel can't help the stutter of laughter, and when Michael turns indignant eyes on her, like he would actually get married without her, she bursts into laughter. A peel of giggles that turn slightly hysterical, and makes her eyes wet with tears.

By the time Isobel manages to get control of herself, Michael is hunched down in his seat, arms crossed over his chest, a pout on his face.

"I really needed that laugh," she says, giving him a wide smile that dims a little when his pout gets even more pronounced.

She rolls her eyes at him. "Oh come on, like you expected me to actually believe that you're married. First of all, who on earth would want to get married to you? No offence, but you're not exactly prime husband material. And second, even if you did find someone to make an honest man out of you, you would never take that step without letting me know."

Michael doesn't respond, only pushes himself out of his seat. "I'm going to get a beer, you want one?"

"A glass of wine," she answers, and stares as he heads into the kitchen, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

He waves a hand at her, and she looks back down at the paperwork in front of her and sighs, picking up her pen back up again.

three.

Max is finishing his reports when Michael starts showing signs of life inside of the drunk tank.

Max senses that there is a pattern to Michael's behaviour, a reason why, he can go weeks, even months without seeing the inside of the drunk tank, and then spend months where one day doesn't go by without him ending up there.

But he can't quite make it out. It's too random for him to make sense of it.

A vibrating sound comes from the inside of Max's desk drawer, and he slides it open and takes a look at Michael's phone curious to see who would be calling him so early in the morning.

AG, flashes across the screen. Max frowns not recognizing the initials as anyone that he knows, and looks back to Michael who is sitting up, leaning back against the wall, head tipped towards the ceiling, eyes shut tight like he has a headache.

Max thinks about offering him some acetone to take the edge off his hangover, but decides against it.

He doesn't want Michael to think that he supports his choice of coping mechanisms.

The phone starts vibrating again and Max looks back down and his frown deepens when he sees that it's AG again.

He looks up to find Michael watching him through narrowed eyes.

"This is getting old," Max starts and Michael just scoffs and rolls his eyes, leaning back against the wall with his eyes closed, like he's already over the conversation.

Max feels the spark of anger inside of him that he pushes down, and then it's replaced by annoyance as Michael's phone beeps with incoming messages.

He looks down as the last message disappears saying, Guerin, please call me back. It's important.

"Who is AG?" He asks, looking up at Michael and catching the startled expression expression his face before he seems to realize that Max has his phone and he goes through several expressions, including fear and panic before settling on resigned.

The phone vibrates again and Max sees, And you're late, so hurry up.

He looks back up to Michael who just exhales roughly.

"It's my husband," he drawls. "Who's probably really worried right now, so if you can-"

He makes a motion like he expects Max to hand him the phone and Max just shuts the drawer again and stands up to round his desk so he can lean on it.

"Keep your secrets," Max says. "And while getting you out of the drunk tank without you needing to pay bail is something that Sheriff Valenti is willing to overlook, I didn't become a cop to help you avoid the repercussions of breaking the law."

Michael's brow furrows and Max just looks at him expectantly.

Silence falls between them broken only by the sound of Michael's phone vibrating in the desk.

"Looks like someone really wants to get a hold of you," Max says, and Michael just exhales roughly. "Hope you don't owe them too much money."

Michael just ignores him, and to Max's surprise stays quiet until Max lets him out.

four.

"Fuck," is the only thing Liz hears when she feels the spray of something hit her.

She looks up at Michael and sees that instead of working on his stuff, he'd been tinkering around with one of the vials she had in the fridge.

"Shower," she says immediately, pushing him towards the corner where the decontamination shower is. "Now," she says, when he tries to protest.

Liz pulls her coat off and starts to unbutton her shirt, and looks to see that Michael is frozen watching her like he has no idea what she's doing.

"Take your clothes off, Mikey," she says and pushes him into the actual shower when he just makes a face at the nickname but makes no move to undress himself. 

"I'm gonna finish and then I'm turning on the shower, if you're not undressed by then, I'm going to make sure that Kyle brings you scrubs that are a size too small."

Liz goes back to unbuttoning her shirt and she hears the rustle of fabric as Michael starts to do what she says.

Liz leaves her underwear on, and stops Michael from pulling off his boxers.

"We're gonna go commando because there is no way that you're going to see me naked right now, or ever."

Michael just rolls his eyes but doesn't protest, until Liz turns the shower on and it pummels them both with icy cold water.

Michael lets her scrub down first and then while she texts Kyle and pushes their tainted clothes towards the sanitary bin, he scrubs himself down.

Kyle appears as soon as Michael shuts off the shower, but he doesn't say much as he hands over the scrubs and towels, giving Liz a look before he turns back to finish his rounds.

Liz throws a towel at Michael who catches it and starts drying his hair immediately.

Liz dries herself off and pulls the scrubs on while Michael turns away from her to give her a little bit of privacy.

Liz wraps her hair up in the towel, and then turns to see that Michael is struggling to pull the scrub over his head.

She shakes her head and walks over to their clothes, putting on a pair of gloves and she grabs everything and puts it in the bin, which is a bummer because she really liked that shirt.

She shakes Michael's jeans to make sure there isn't anything in his pockets and necklace falls out.

She puts the jeans in the bin and picks the necklace up. There is a metal shard, that kind of looks like it was part of a bigger pendant, and there are some numbers stamped on it, along with a silver ring that looks suspiciously like a wedding band.

She turns to see Michael watching her with an unsure expression.

"This yours?" She asks, holding it out. "I didn't know you were the necklace wearing type."

"I'm not," Michael says and very carefully takes the necklace back from her. "It belongs to my husband."

"You're married?" Liz asks, incredulous and highly skeptical.

Michael just stuffs the necklace into his pocket and shrugs. "Technically separated, and filing for divorce, but yeah."

He turns around heading towards the mess he made, and Liz watches him wondering what could be so bad that he finds telling someone about a divorce easier than telling the truth.

five.

Kyle isn't the trauma surgeon on duty, but that doesn't stop him from waiting at the OR doors, and looking through the window.

Alex looks pale and bloody, but he's strong, Kyle knows that he's going to make it.

A car accident isn't what's going to kill Alex. Not after everything they've been through.

Kyle is trying not to fall into old habits, like biting his nails, when one of the nurses on duty walks down the hall, and sighs in relief when he spots him.

"There's an angry cowboy out there demanding information about your trauma victim, and he's refusing to leave unless-"

Kyle doesn't hear the rest because he's already moving towards the doors.

Alex hadn't exactly told him what had happened between him and Michael, but Kyle wasn't an idiot, and he could put two and two together and come up with the right answer, like the fact that Michael had sex with Maria and that Alex had been avoiding going to the Wild Pony since Max died, meant that Alex didn't want to see Michael, and Kyle was more than ready to keep it that way.

He spots Michael right away, arguing with someone at the front desk.

The nurse sitting there gives Kyle a grateful look, and tilts her head towards the button that calls security.

Kyle nods his head and then looks at Michael, who's turned to look at him.

Kyle takes in the wild desperate eyes and the flushed cheeks and the way that he seems to be trembling slightly, and he feels a pang in his chest.

But Alex comes first, and until he's awake enough to tell him what to do, he's going to make sure that everything remains the same.

"How is he?" He asks, taking a few steps closer to Kyle.

Kyle inhales deeply. "He's in surgery. You can't really be out here harassing the staff for information. I'll-"

Michael bristles immediately. "I can harass whoever I want when they won't tell me how he's doing."

Kyle shakes his head, "There are rules that we have to follow. We can't just give out patient information to anyone. It can only be family or next of kin."

Michael shakes his head, slightly. "Alex is my family."

Kyle inhales deeply again, "And I get that. But unless you have a paper that says you're next of kin, there is nothing that I can do."

"He's my fucking husband," Michael snaps, moving to get into Kyle's space, and being detained by two burly security guards immediately. 

"No," he says, pulling away from them. "What are you doing?"

The security officer says something, but Michael is fighting too hard for him to actually be heard.

"I am his husband!" Michael yells, as they start to drag him out. "You can't just drag me out of here! I have a reason to be here! Tell them!"

He looks at Kyle wild eyed, and Kyle thinks that maybe Michael has really gone off the deep end.

"I'll let you know once he gets out of surgery, but you can't be here," Kyle answers, and nods his head at the security guards.

Michael stops fighting them, and Kyle exhale in relief when the elevator door closes.

The nurse at the desk gives him a smile, and Kyle gives her one back before he goes back to Alex.

He wonders if Alex knows that Michael is going around telling people that they're married.

and one.

Michael is drunk enough that when Alex sits down next to him he whistles long and low and appreciatively.

"I must be in heaven," Michael says, and Alex furrows his brow in confusion. "Because you my darling are most definitely an angel."

"Oh my god," Alex says, and takes the beer before Michael can drink the rest of it. "How drunk are you?"

Michael just sighs, "You are without a doubt the most beautiful person I have ever seen."

Alex bites down on his lip and then drinks down the rest of Michael's beer.

When he sets the bottle down and turns to Michael, who is staring at him with wide eyes. Well, staring at his mouth.

"You have a real pretty mouth," he drawls, and Alex, just smirks and licks his bottom lip.

Michael groans and sways into him.

"You shouldn't tease like that unless you're willing to put your mouth where your money is."

Alex bites down on the small burst of laughter that wants to come out, and leans into Michael's space.

"Who says I'm not willing?" Alex asks, looking into Michael's eyes and then dropping his gaze deliberately to Michael's mouth.

Michael groans low and like he's in pain.

"You have no idea how much I wish I could, darling, but I'm a married man."

Alex can't help the laughter that escapes him at that.

"I know," he says when Michael starts to pout. "I'm your husband."

Michael's eyes go wide and bright. "Really?"

Alex nods his head.

"How did I manage that?" Michael asks, sounding impressed with himself. 

Alex just shakes his head.

"You asked and I said yes, and then a whole bunch of stuff happened, but last week you asked me to renew our vows, and I said yes, and it was a wonderful ceremony that we let your sister plan."

Michael blinks at him, and Alex finds the confused and awed look on his face really endearing.

"I got you to marry me twice?" He asks sounding stupidly shocked.

Alex just laughs again and leans in close enough that he feels Michael inhale sharply.

"I love you," he says, and Michael's eyes go even wider. "I'll marry you as many times as you want."

He takes advantage of Michael's shock to press a kiss across his mouth, light and sweet.

Michael looks dazed when Alex pulls back.

"Lucky me," Michael whispers, and then leans in to kiss Alex and misses, pressing the kiss to his cheek.

Alex smiles and fits his hands around Michael's jaw and moves him into the right position to drag his drunk husband into a proper kiss.

[takerfoxx]

Notes on Restless

A day overdue, but here it is! My thoughts on writing Restless.

Restless is, in many ways, the most important arc in the story, not because it is the most plot or character significant (though it definitely is very important to both), but because it was one of the first, if not the first story arc I planned out, and have been cooking up in the back of my mind and working toward ever since this story started. And, as indicated by the title, it is one big reference to the Buffy the Vampire Slayer episode Restless, which is my favorite episode and also featured all of the main characters trapped in their little dream worlds.

What can I say; I like dream sequences!

In fact, and I know I have mentioned this a few times already, but it bears repeating the first chapter of this arc was literally the very first scene I thought up for this story, back when I was still in post-episode 9 depression and wanted nothing more for Kyoko and Oktavia to reunite somewhere and be happy together (well, the story definitely gives us the former, but, um, not really the latter, because I am still a sadist). If memory serves, my original vision had the two of them and Mami relaxing in a fantasy-world hot spring that had a bunch of big crystals everywhere (because I like crystals), only for them to be interrupted by the sound of something moving nearby, and, upon inspection, they would find the doll version of Charlotte watching them.

Obviously that scenario’s gone through a lot of fine-tuning, especially when it comes to Charlotte. And the crystals got moved to the end of the story after the hot spring had been removed, but hey, they still made the final cut. Regardless, I did settle on a finalized version some years ago, and the final cut came out more-or-less exactly as I envisioned, down to Mami and Charlotte going off alone for some, ah, quality time.

The only new addition was Jerky’s little scene and the Sayaka/Oktavia flirting sequence, and, well, that happened. I honestly don’t know if I’m even allowed to say much about it without getting into trouble with someone, even though I wrote it, but let’s just say the time has come to finally kick things into high gear on that end.

Okay, so onto the dreams!

Kyoko’s dream was of course the one I came up with first, and yet ended up being the shortest. I guess it’s because while she’s white-hot mess of issues, she’s at least a straightforward white-hot mess of issues, and honestly, it came out more-or-less how I initially planned years ago, with very little addition.

Now, Mephisto gave us a pretty clear breakdown of what the individual girls’ dreams meant thematically when she started torturing them directly, but it bears repeating that Kyoko’s dream was mainly dealing with her poor reaction to loss (the concept, not the meme), specifically the loss of Sayaka to Oktavia, and her stubborn and yet misguided quest to bring Sayaka back at any cost.

We start with a perfect repeat of her dream from waaaaaaaay back from chapter five, when she was first waking up from being drugged. I was originally just going to begin with the continuation, but it had been so long since that chapter that I just copied and pasted the original dream so we can have it in its entirety, which included the all-important image of Sayaka dissolving into silver fishes.

From there it’s mainly Kyoko’s singleminded quest to find Sayaka at any cost. And from there, we see her think that she’s found her time after time, only to be disappointed, from thinking that Madoka was Sayaka (and it’s a shame that they never interacted more beyond that single episode, as they had a good dynamic), to nearly catching the silver-fish Sayaka only to have her torn away, to finally finding the fake fish-faced conductor Sayaka, further establishing her inability to accept Oktavia as not being Sayaka. The hole that her father left in her heart and how deeply she misses him even with what he did does come up, but she abandons catching him once Kyubey makes it clear that doing so is impossible, as well as showing that while she still loves her father, part of her still does not forgive him and she truly believes that he went to Hell.

Also, was that the first time I’ve had Kyubey show up and have original dialogue? Because it might be!

Mephisto’s first appearance has her occupying the same role that she would in everyone’s dreams, that of a surly gatekeeper. She’s a bouncer in Kyoko’s dream, a ticket-taker/ride operator in Sayaka’s, a hostess in Mami’s, and a receptionist in Charlotte’s. And in each one, she lets the dreamer pass while making it clear that doing so is probably a bad idea. Her design was a lot of fun, though there truly is no significance to her rainbow dreadlocks, punk-rock aesthetic, or denim outfit, other than I liked the way they looked. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.

Annabelle Lee and the dockengauts have very short appearances in the nightclub, as despite all the pain they’ve put Kyoko through, she is still so singleminded in her pursuit that she considers them nothing more than obstacles to be overcome, which Annabelle Lee would probably be annoyed to hear.

As for Mami’s weird striptease, well, Kyoko is just now having to grapple with her own budding sexuality, and it stands to reason that Mami would have been an early crush for her. The “ending” though shows that while she’s more-or-less okay with Charlotte, she is still very aware of how Mami died.

Like Annabelle Lee, Elsa Maria would have the same role in everyone’s dream, the same role she had in Annabelle Lee’s feverish dream during the Help arc, that of the person who points the way to what the dreamer is seeking while still advising against it, which is always ignored. Though don’t read too much into her working with Mephisto in the end, as it’s not the real Elsa Maria and Mephisto is still the one in control.

And what better place for Kyoko, now Ophelia, to start her quest to find Sayaka for real than the same train station that she originally lost Sayaka in?

Anyway, while this chapter came out basically as originally envisioned, there are a couple things that I wish I had included, firstly a scene where Kyoko loses her necklace while being swept along by the current for Sayaka to find it later, and to have the sound of the crying child from the beginning to continue throughout the whole chapter, showing that she still hadn’t forgotten her quest to find her sister, as impossible as it might seem now.

Sayaka’s dream had largely to do with her and Oktavia’s issues with personal identity, and the dichotomy that Oktavia feels at all times, but translated through Sayaka’s eyes. In fact, bits and pieces of both their personalities are present through the circus (and given that Rumia’s dream took place in a circus in Imperfect Metamorphosis, it does just seem to be a recurring theme with me). The whole knight in shining armor for Sayaka is obvious, as is her sense of righteous justice as what Lily did. But her dynamics with the various characters that she comes across, her memories in general, her growing attraction to Kyoko, and her annoyance at being addressed incorrectly is all Oktavia.

It’s the two Kyoko encounters I want the highlight. The first at the shooting gallery shows that while Oktavia does love Kyoko, she is getting quite fed up with the constant nicknames in place of her actual name, while the second in the dunking tank shows her growing concern that Kyoko’s dogheaded persistence is only going to keep getting her hurt until there’s nothing left, as well as show her growing sexual attraction to Kyoko as she is progressively more stripped.

Mami and Charlotte’s brief appearance was in part to get them on the dream, and so show that that while Oktavia cares for them deeply, she’s not nearly as worried about them as she is Kyoko, hence why they’re here so briefly. Also, them pushing Ticky Nikki around in a stroller, aside from being Nikki’s only appearance this whole arc, was also a tip of the hat to the original Restless episode from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, as Giles’s dream had him and his girlfriend pushing a stroller around through a carnival in the middle of a graveyard.

The Freakshow was a mixture of the traumatic monsters both Sayaka and Oktavia had to encounter, from the various witch familiars and to Gertrud, the first witch Sayaka ever saw, to the witch form of Charlotte, who traumatized Sayaka deeply, to Brooklyn, who briefly showed up earlier and was sort of Oktavia’s nemesis in The Heist and targeted her specifically, which left a mark.

And that whole business with Annabelle Lee “pouring” Kyoko into the tank was to lean more into dream logic, where deeply personal fears tend to be translated through nonsensical imagery. I’ve had plenty of dreams where I’d “lose” a close friend or family member because they got turned into a jar of dried corn or something and I’d just be so devastated and obsessed with turning said corn back into my loved one, and it’d be very serious and emotional, and it wouldn’t be until I had woken up that I’d realize, “Dude, dried corn?” Plus, her guilt about stabbing Annabelle Lee was a reference to Sayaka’s own increasing guilt when she realized that she wasn’t the shining hero she had wanted to be.

The clown dance is pretty self-explanatory, in that Sayaka spent so much time killing witches and treating them like monsters only to become a witch herself. Plus, given how quick her downfall was, it serves to reason that she would think of herself as a clown. Plus, I just like Lily as a character, and wanted any excuse to use her as much as possible.

The whole bit with the train station acting as the loading gate for the roller-coaster is also fairly obvious. That’s where Sayaka became Oktavia, hence the cart turning into the wheelchair, or the coaster track leading into Oktavia’s barrier. I’m honestly not too thrilled about the coaster going through Genocide City, because while having it make an appearance makes sense, since it’s literally Oktavia’s first memory, but if I recall, I had the hardest time settling on a location for the rollercoaster to ride through before heading into the castle. I tried Freehaven, the outside of the high school, and returning to the circus itself before just settling with Genocide City, which honestly was chosen mainly because the deadline was coming up and I had to go with something. I guess it works though.

There really isn’t much to say about the reversed Kyoko/Oktavia fight, as it’s literally just a perspective flip of their final battle. Incredibly important and significant as it embodies the entirety of Sayaka’s aspect as the “Monster” of her dream and hammered in her connection to Kyoko? Absolutely. Has much that I can explain that isn’t literally sitting right on the surface? Nope.

We do get Mephisto basically spelling out Sayaka’s contradictory identity in her final days though, in which she was the valiant knight she always wanted to be, she was the damsel in distress that Madoka and Kyoko tried and failed to rescue, and she was the monster holding that damsel captive. No doubt that part was inspired by the meme of the Dragonborn princess paladin who was hired to rescue herself from herself.

From there, the “Monster” is slain, and the cute mermaid Oktavia von Seckendorff is born, the only time during her own dream that she makes a full appearance. She then is treated to a montage of Sayaka’s memories, but of course, they mean nothing to her.

However, I would like to point out what amounted to the payoff of a joke I had set up literally years ago. Readers of all my stuff might remember that way back in Rhapsody of Subconscious Desire, another story that took place in a dream world, Kaguya Houraisan was split into two identical copies of herself, called Head and Body, who encountered Oktavia swimming around in a large aquarium, who in turn shot them a rude gesture and swam off. Here, we finally see the inverse of that scene, which is why a couple of previously unseen twin girls showed up with no explanation.

Next is where the dreams start to converge. Oktavia finds Kyoko’s necklace (which, again, I wish I had included in Kyoko’s dream. Maybe in time I’ll go back and edit it in) and meets the silver fish’s from Kyoko’s dream, absorbing them and turning fully into the princess and, as a result, Sayaka Miki finally returns in full.

Funny thing about that.

At this point, I didn’t know how much the whole Sayaka thing would play out, and originally she would just be Oktavia in a dress. But after having Sayaka’s memories intrude again and again, I thought, “Huh, wouldn’t it be fun if she just became Sayaka again for a short time? Have a weird inverse of the Oktavia situation?” and went ahead and did it.

This choice led to…major consequences.

Mami’s dream is next, and despite being the one that I literally had planned out the least ahead of time, ended up being the most fun to write. Naturally, her dream dreams with her immense guilt over having been Kyubey’s poster girl for so long, helping him ensnare several innocent girls into his scheme as well as kill them off herself when they became witches. Also, it served as a little nod to Candeloro’s job as a baker in WN. Anyway, the whole thing was heavily influenced by Sweeney Todd, in that victims are misled into doing something they think is innocent, only for them to be gruesomely murdered and sent off to be turned into food.

The world of candles is just something I thought would be neat imagery, so infer from it what you wish. However, it is interesting to note that Mami is the only one to have a dream that features Annabelle Lee as the persistent antagonist that she is, showing up over and over to antagonize her. There wasn’t an intended reason for this, but come to think of it, with Kyoko focused on her endgame, Oktavia just wanting her friends to be safe, and Charlotte obsessed with what was lost, Mami would be the one most living in the nowness of their situation, convinced that she is finally in Hell for her sins.

In the restaurant, Mami is indirectly guilt-tripped by Shizuku for essentially abandoning all of her responsibilities to help Kyoko, and is then given a choice: abandon her quest and stay with her loved ones, or continue on with her “duty” despite all warning signs, thereby sealing her own destruction. Charlotte even goes so far as to beg her directly to not go on, but Mami refuses, saying over and over again that she is, “On the clock,” signifying how being a magical girl essentially took over her entire life after her parents’ death, and how full she threw herself into it to shield herself from her own loneliness.

And from then on, her fate is sealed.

While descending the long staircase, the father of Mami’s occasionally mentioned former crush Ryu Hagane shows up to chastise her for throwing her life way in making her contract, and then Mami’s actual love Charlotte shows up on the big TV to remind Mami of what she was now throwing away, and curiously, when she brings out the doll version of herself, it’s not to remind her of how Charlotte kill Mami (though the worms coming out of the doll’s mouth shows that Mami still hasn’t forgotten), but to remind her of how Mami had tried to kill Charlotte upon their first meeting, as her own guilt is more powerful than even the trauma from having her own head bitten off. Annabelle Lee emerges again, and in the process, the staircase is destroyed. Mami’s choice was made. There is going back.

Sure enough, when she enters the classroom, the marionette corpse of Kazuko Saotome (a reference to how she was killed and eaten in the Oriko timeline, in addition to just being very creepy) spells out to Mami’s face what an idiot she was for trusting Kyubey, how many lives she had ruined by doing so, finishing with Homura showing up to basically say, “I told you so.”

Annabelle Lee attacks again, and Mami is sent into a montage of battles she has fought since their disastrous adventure begun, but with each of her assailants being replaced at the last second by one of her friends, showing that even after forgiveness, she still feels like she’s their murderer, as well as driving home the point that in all of her battles to defend herself over the course of this story, she was still just fighting and hurting other magical girls, and regardless of which side they were on, they were all still victims of the same scam.

Annabelle Lee is finally defeated and put down, but there is no victory, only horror at what Mami had done. She flees, but finally finds herself in the Hell she always felt that she deserved, pursued by the zombified corpses of all the monsters that had defeated her, from Lily, who had stolen her mind and made her commit atrocities, to the wild girls, whom she had slaughtered, to the Worm, whom had killed her in her arrogance.

She escapes, but that just leads her back to the bakery, signifying that no matter what, the second she had made that contract she had been doomed. It didn’t matter if she was leaping through the sky in an extravagant outfit, effortlessly defeating monsters with her magic, or if she was sinking into her own despair with a darkening soul gem, it was all the same. She was just food for the Incubators, to be chewed up and discarded, thrown into the mouth of the Worm and run down by the same vehicle that had killed her parents.

She then wakes up in the hospital, reliving a twisted version of when she had been recovered from the car wreck that had taken her parents, taking her back to her first sin that still haunted her: only saving her own life with her wish and letting her parents die. And thus, she is turned into the same monster she had spent the last few years fighting: the witch, Candeloro.

The whole bit in the hospital was a twisted version of what it must have been like for the original Mami to wake up in the hospital and learn that her parents had died. No doubt Mephisto’s dream doctors would have continued to further twist the knife had Ophelia and Sayaka not violently intervened (which gives us a rare case of blood instead of mist). And Candeloro is brought into the party, and with a Cyberpunk reference no less!

Charlotte’s dream comes last, and in my opinion, is the most multi-layered. The bulk is focused on how bitter she is at having her perfect life with her wife stolen away and how many people she resents for it, her own feelings of helplessness at being unable to prevent it, and also it addresses her own guilt at having killed Mami to begin with and how much she fears the return of the Worm that did it, but also she seems to be the only person that has some subconscious awareness of how Homura is timelooping them over and over again, forcing them to relive the same torturous sequence of events (probably has something to do with Homura being the one who killed her after she ate Mami).

In the first loop, Mami is taken by Annabelle Lee, and Charlotte is totally helpless to stop her. This is pretty obvious: Annabelle Lee has been a thorn in her side since day one. It was because of her that they were ambushed in Cloudbreak and forced into their horrible adventure. And more directly, it was because of Annabelle Lee that they fell into the Etherdale to begin with, leading to them all being enslaved by Lily and Charlotte and Mami being forced to commit atrocities.

Also, it’s hinted that the city that Charlotte is forced to march through is the same one Kyoko had been following her father through in her dream, indicating that their minds are already crossing over.

The second is a little more complicated. Yes, Charlotte and Kyoko are on better terms. Yes, they’re getting along. Yes, Kyoko apologized and they bonded. But if it weren’t for Kyoko, then none of this would have ever happened. If it weren’t for Kyoko, Charlotte wouldn’t have lost her home, wouldn’t have been targeted by Reibey, and wouldn’t have to suffer being pursued by dockengauts and valks, two creatures that she has an acute phobia of. So there is still some hard feelings there.

The third is when Charlotte is forced to confront something about herself, that no matter how many people she blames, her own actions still played a part as well. Now she is the one riding the Worm. She is the one who cost Mami her life. And in the hospital, it was her misguided wish that cost her her mother, whether she knows it or not, as well as why she became a witch in the first place.

Couple notes about the hospital: first, the cheese slices do signify how Charlotte threw her wish away for something as stupid as cheesecake, but are also another reference to the original Restless, in which a man carrying cheese slices shows up in each of the characters dreams, just to be weird.

Also, Charlotte’s magical girl outfit was in part inspired by a 4koma MamiLotte doujin from before The Rebellion Story, in which Charlotte becomes human again and crushes on Mami big time. And her outfit consists of a double-breasted coat and skirt. Also there were parts taken from the character notes from Walpurgisnacht, in which one of her familiars is an early draft of Human!Charlotte, before Nagisa had been designed, and she’s depicted holding a staff topped with the wrapped candy charm.

The final loop is where Charlotte fully becomes Nozomi (a name I think I just took from another fanfic that gave her that name) and finally defeats the Worm, this time ridden by Homura Akemi. After all, Homura Akemi is the one resetting things over and over again, forcing Charlotte to relive the same terrible events over and over. And as for that rooftop meeting…well, explaining that would be telling, so infer what you will.

The next chapter is mainly spent playing catch-up, gathering all the characters together and pushing toward the final battle with Mephisto. Here, things get less symbolic and more character based, so there’s a lot less to explain. Ophelia’s path of destruction through Sayaka’s carnival and Mami’s school are basically in line with lucid dreaming, in that once you know that you’re in a dream, everything just feels so much less solid, leading Ophelia to take down the ravaged versions of Brooklyn and Annabelle Lee with ease. Also, that scene with her talking to the dying Lily was an American Gods reference, which featured a similar scene.

So let’s talk about the big thing with this chapter. Let’s talk about Sayaka.

Originally the plan was to go straight from Charlotte’s dream to the fight with Mephisto, but then I realized what a bad idea that is. I mean, Sayaka was back! It’s something that’s been hinted and talked about all through the story’s run, but now it’s actually a thing. The original Sayaka Miki, the one that fell into despair and became a witch, is now back, and without having merged with Oktavia and gaining her memories. She’s thrown literally into the middle of things, during the gang’s weirdest adventure yet. And, it should be noted, her most recent memory is literally sitting with Kyoko in the train station, right before she became Oktavia. That is one hell of a bad day.

Obviously she reacts poorly, and who can blame her? And give her credit, she pulled herself together pretty quickly. However, she did pick up very quickly on Kyoko’s feelings for her. And why shouldn’t we just start saying it? It’s obvious to everyone! But obviously, as short as it was, Sayaka’s brief return will have major consequences that will play out over time.

Anyway, obviously everyone else has their own identity crisis. Mami turns fully into Candeloro, which provides a measure of relief from her own shame, while Kyoko as Ophelia is the rare witch that remembers everything while still sticking fully to her witch identity.

As for Charlotte, her case as Charzomi is easily the weirdest, with her constantly shifting back and forth between Charlotte and Nozomi, and her own memories fading in and out, forcing her to work extra hard to stay focused. It’s been suggested that this might serve as a metaphor for gender fluidity, and while this wasn’t the intention and thus I can’t speak to its accuracy, I can see and support the applicability. Still haven’t worked out what the long-term consequences of that will be, but I do want this to play into her future character development.

The walk up the tongue was mainly me realizing that the fighting was going to start soon, and Sayaka was going away right after, so I had one last opportunity to make the most out of her presence and I was determined not to waste it.

So we ticked off the boxes on everything we ought to address with her. She cleared the air with Charlotte over having to watch Mami get eaten. She finally got to hug Mami (well, Candeloro anyway) and got everything she wanted to say off her chest. And with Ophelia, she naturally wants to know more about exactly what Kyoko has been getting up to with Sayaka’s other self.

Sayaka again confronts Ophelia about how she feels about her (or, well, Oktavia, or maybe Sayaka? It’s weird), and naturally she is kind of freaked out by it. Remember, from her point of view, her relationship with Kyoko had been nothing but antagonistic. Whether Kyoko had been attacking her or trying to help her, Sayaka always resented her presence, so now suddenly being dropped into the middle of things and learning that her one-time rival now has a thing for her? Well, can you blame her for getting a little freaked out?

Also, it’s worth pointing out how the script had been flipped with everyone’s new identities. Now it’s Ophelia and Candeloro with the witch names, while Sayaka still thinks of them using their old names, causing them discomfort, but she has no problem calling Charzomi whatever because they had just met and she didn’t care.

And then we get to the fight, and of course it has to be a pro wrestling match. I’d also like to point out that there were a lot of songs I wanted to use for this chapter but was unsure of where to put each one. Originally the climb up the tongue was just going to have generic thrash metal playing the background, while Mephisto’s entrance theme was going to start with Mr. Sandman, only to transition into Bad Reputation (which is Ronda Rousey’s RL entrance theme), but then I was like, I should put Welcome to My Nightmare in there somewhere. And then I remembered that Cult of Personality is a thing, which is also CM Punk’s entrance theme, so I finally decided to move the first three songs to the tongue scene and have CoP as Mephisto’s entrance music.

And finally, we come to the last chapter. The magical girl fight scene was another one of those checklist things I wanted to have so long as I had Sayaka around. That way, I could actually build some real KyoSaya moments to make the KyoTavi angst all the more potent, as Sayaka realizes that she is developing an attraction to Kyoko as they fight side-by-side, letting me recreate that magical little moment from The Rebellion Story in which Sayaka basically confesses in the middle of the battle, complete with Charlotte ruining the mood.

I’ll admit, I kind of skimped out on Mephisto’s witch design and didn’t give it as much thought as I could have, but that part was never important. The important part was to recreate a classic witch fight and let the girls interact during it. I am proud of the Charlotte’s Web joke though.

What happens next is to establish that it doesn’t matter how hard they fight or how smart they are, they simply cannot beat Mephisto now. She’s taken complete control, enough to flick them through their various personas on a whim turning them into Puella Magi, then to human!witches (basically the Walpurgis Nights girls), then to full witches, then to the classic squad from the bulk of the story (bringing Oktavia back briefly), then to vanilla humans. It doesn’t matter. Mephisto has them, and can do whatever she wants.

From there, she separates them again and subjects them to a condensed version of their previous dreams, with the same themes but different imagery. Kyoko is subjected to a sermon about her poor responses to loss from her dead father, as he really lays into her over how much damage she had done. And I gotta admit, even I felt pretty bad just for writing that scene. Because I know torturing Kyoko is kind of this story’s MO, but damn.

Sayaka is a little more nuanced. Yes, the identity issues from her own dream are brought up, but it’s more focused on a new issues: mainly, now that Sayaka is back, she not only has to grapple with all the weirdness that she’s been thrust into, but also with essentially having been replaced. We see the vision of her friends getting along happily without her, the friends she had pushed away and alienated having moved on without her, Madoka basically having replaced her entirely with Homura. Of course this is not reflected in reality, as by this point in the world of the living they probably haven’t even found Sayaka’s body yet due to the time difference, but it is definitely that Sayaka would easily believe.

The next part is basically the whole reason for bringing Sayaka back in this manner. Mephisto then shows Sayaka a real memory that of Oktavia spending time with Kyoko, Mami, and Charlotte and being loved and accepted by them.

Sayaka’s character arc in the original series was driven by her letting her insecurities cause her to overcompensate and destroy herself, and Oktavia has largely been characterized as what Sayaka would be like if she didn’t have those insecurities. Sure, she’s had the shadow of the original Sayaka hanging over her, but for the most part this hasn’t seemed to bother her much, aside from getting annoyed at being called the wrong name, but it’s been taken for granted that sooner or later being thought of as Sayaka instead of herself by Kyoko was going to come to a head.

But here we have one of those happy unplanned gold veins, something I hadn’t planned on doing but am thrilled gets to happen now: we have Sayaka being forced to come to terms with living in Oktavia’s shadow.

Yes, they’re the same person. Yes, Oktavia is just Sayaka with her memory wiped and many of her self-destructive issues cleared away. But as WN demonstrated, it’s not as clear cut as that, and there is still some degree of separation between the two. And the infamously self-loathing Sayaka would most certainly be messed up by being confronted by a version of herself that people like and enjoy being around, that doesn’t feel the need to prove anything. And this is coming right off the heels of her realizing that she might have feelings for Kyoko after all (even if that is in part because of her empathetic connection to Oktavia), only to have it thrown in her face that it was Oktavia that Kyoko really loved, when she herself never did anything other than push Kyoko away. Granted, she had good reason for doing so, given that the first thing Kyoko did was try to kill her, but the point stands.

The Kyoko/Oktavia dynamic has always been messy due to Sayaka’s constant presence, but I kind of feel that that was unfair to Sayaka herself, as she deserves better than just being a memory, and I wanted her to have an actual voice in the whole deal, to be able to express her own feelings about it, even if it does complicate an already incredibly complicated situation.

Anyway, the next bit is pretty self-explanatory, with Mephisto further twisting the knife by replaying Sayaka’s last conversation with Madoka and really driving home what a wreck Sayaka had been at the time. Remember, from Sayaka’s point of view, that whole moment was only a few hours ago, at most!

Mami’s was very interesting, because the whole trial bit is self-explanatory, but it’s actually a reference to the bizarre trial that made up the final episode of the classic mindscrew TV show The Prisoner, which featured a jury wearing masks, the plaintiff sitting on an ornate chair on a raised platform, witnesses being pulled out of steam-filled holes, and an extended singalong of Dry Bones. Granted, I mainly knew about it because Reboot, one of my favorite shows, also referenced it in a dream episode of their own, but I liked that episode, and wanted to rip it off.

For the witnesses, we first get the expected faces from the show itself, but we also get a few new ones. Brooke Alexander was already named once before when Mami was reflecting on the various girls she had trained, Janice Goldberg was made up specifically for this scene, but we also get Michiru Kazusa, from the really weird spin-off manga Kazumi Magica, who was established as having a past with Mami. Kazumi Magica had its problems, but I did like a lot of the characters (i.e. The Twins), so this seemed like a good time to bring in another one.

Charlotte’s dream is the most straightforward, as it’s basically just her first dream condensed into a claw machine. What I wanted to put focus on was that Charlotte is the one character that knows who Mephisto is, as her role as the team scholar who does the most reading, she would actually have heard of the Ideal Witches, and thus would really understand just how much trouble they were all in.

And at the end of each segment, Mephisto gives each of them the same offer: submit willingly and be given a pleasant fantasy while Mephisto digests their souls, or continue to resist and get digested anyway, only in eternal torment. And her offer would give them each what they wanted the most. Kyoko wants her loved ones back, Sayaka wants to be loved and appreciated, Mami wants forgiveness, and Charlotte just wants to go home. And in light of what they were facing, can any of them be blamed for wanting to take Mephisto up on her offer?

Enter Jerky.

Jerky was a ton of fun to write for, and judging by the overwhelming positive response to his segments, bringing in the baby space raptor was a good idea. Like I’ve said before, his bits were one big love letter to Raptor Red, a novel by paleontologist Robert Bakker which tells of the life and times of a female Utahraptor from the Utahraptor’s point of view. And the nice thing about Jerky is that he’s smart enough to know the does and don’ts, but simple enough to be uncomplicated. He’s an animal. An exceptionally smart animal, but still an animal. He knows that he loves Kyoko and is loyal to her, he’s been made to understand that he can’t let Charlotte, Mami, and Oktavia see him, and he knows that Kyoko’s skin is softer than his and he needs to be careful, but beyond that he couldn’t care less of their various issues. It’s refreshingly simple.

As such, when confronted with a complete inexplicable threat such as Mephisto, something well beyond his ability to comprehend, he’s worried, he’s scared, he doesn’t know what to do, so he defaults to his predatory instincts.

When in doubt, start biting.

And it does the trick, because something that needs to be said is that while the Ideal Witches are powerful, they’re not omnipotent. Mephisto needed to lure the girls in and submerge them fully in her dream in order to control them the way that she did, but in the real world, she was vulnerable once she had manifested fully, allowing Kyoko to break free long enough to fire the final shot.

In the end, everyone escapes, but not unscathed. Kyoko especially had been scarred even further, in part from the dream of her father, but also from having to watch Sayaka basically die again, leading to her reaching what very well might be her breaking point. Mami’s slipping deeper into depression, having been forced to once again confront all the damage she unwittingly did as a magical girl, Charlotte is fully fed up with everything that had happened to them. And Oktavia? Well, now that it’s been shown that Sayaka Miki can and has come back, suddenly her own identity issues are going to become worse. She’s really going to have to grapple with Sayaka being an actual person with a legitimate claim to her body, especially since when Sayaka came back, she effectively traded places with Oktavia instead of merging with her. That’s gotta be scary.

At the very least, Kyoko did not reject Oktavia. In some way, she does understand that Oktavia is her own person, and she’s coming to respect that. But there are some deep wounds having to do with Oktavia’s creation, and they’re both going to have to come to terms with a great many things in the days to come.

And at the very end, it’s shown that Mephisto is weakened but still alive, and she’s pissed! We also learn that one of the girls did accept Mephisto’s offer before she was defeated, so that’s definitely going to come up later. And we meet the rest of the Ideal Witches. Obviously there is more to come with them, so I will say nothing further.

Anyway, I guess that’s it. Feel free to message me if you want anything explained further, or just make your own interpretations. Either is fine.

[aboveallarescuer]

Dany is (relatively) frugal and modest

As I was rereading ASOIAF, I made it my goal to compile all* the book passages demonstrating either certain key attributes of Daenerys Targaryen (e.g. that she's compassionate and smart) or aspects of hers that are usually overstated (e.g. that she's ambitious and prophecy-driven).  Doing such a task may seem exaggerated, but I'd argue it's not, for many, many misconceptions about Dany have become widespread in light of the show's final season's events (and even before).

It must be acknowledged that it can be tricky to reference, say, ADWD passages to counter-argument how she was depicted in season eight (which allegedly follows ADOS events). Dany will have had plenty of character development in the span of two books. However, whatever happens to Dany in the next two books, I would argue that there is more than enough material to conclude that her show counterpart was made to fall for flaws that she (for the most part) never had and actions that she (for the most part) would never take. (and that's not even considering the double standards and the contradictions with what had been shown from show!Dany up until then, but that's obviously out of the scope of these lists)

Another objection to the purpose of these lists is that Game of Thrones is different from A Song of Ice and Fire and should be analyzed on its own, which is a fair point. However, the show is also an adaptation of these books, which begs the questions: why did they change Dany's character? Why did they overfocus on negative traits of hers or depicted them as negative when they weren't supposed to be or gave her negative traits that were never hers to begin with? Another fact that undermines the show=/=books argument is that most people think that the show's ending will be the books', albeit only in broad strokes and in different circumstances. As a result, people's perception of Dany is inevitably influenced by the show, which is a shame.

I hope these lists can be useful for whoever wants to find book passages to defend (or even simply explore different facets of) Dany's character in metas or conversations.

 *Well, at least all the passages that I could find in her chapters, which is no guarantee that the effort was perfectly executed, but I did my best.

Also, people could interpret certain passages differently and then come up with a different collection of passages if they ever attempted to make one, so I'm not saying that this list is completely objective (nor that there could ever be one).

Also, some passages have been cut short according to whether they were, IMO, relevant to the specific topic of the list they're in, so the context surrounding them may not always be clear (always read the books and use asearchoficeandfire). Many of them appear in different lists, sometimes fully referenced, sometimes not.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To justify the existence of this list, let's see examples of widespread opinions that I feel misrepresent Daenerys Targaryen:

Even when Daenerys was kidnapped by a then-hostile Dothraki in season 6, she didn’t look this disheveled. In fact, her hair and outfit were impeccable in the face of relentless desert grit and threatened imprisonment in the Dosh Khaleen. Dany, a woman who has believed she was fated for greatness since birth, has never let herself look anything but perfect. That is, until now. (x)

Dany has not believed she was fated for greatness neither since birth nor as of ADWD. This meta and these lists make it clear enough. But this list is about something else: has Dany "never let herself look anything but perfect"? I would argue that the books tell a very different story.

NOTE: There are few moments in AGOT because Dany is among the Dothraki, so several behaviors that could be considered "frugal" and "modest" are normalized. In other books, she's among other nobles, which highlights these particular traits of her.

A Dance with Dragons

ADWD Daenerys X

The sun was hot this morning, the sky blue and cloudless. That was good. Dany’s clothes were hardly more than rags, and offered little in the way of warmth. One of her sandals had slipped off during her wild flight from Meereen and she had left the other up by Drogon’s cave, preferring to go barefoot rather than half-shod. Her tokar and veils she had abandoned in the pit, and her linen undertunic had never been made to withstand the hot days and cold nights of the Dothraki sea. Sweat and grass and dirt had stained it, and Dany had torn a strip off the hem to make a bandage for her shin. I must look a ragged thing, and starved, she thought, but if the days stay warm, I will not freeze.

~

Hers had been a lonely sojourn, and for most of it she had been hurt and hungry ... yet despite it all she had been strangely happy here. A few aches, an empty belly, chills by night ... what does it matter when you can fly? I would do it all again.

~

The sun grew hotter as it rose, and before long her head was pounding. Dany’s hair was growing out again, but slowly. “I need a hat,” she said aloud. Up on Dragonstone she had tried to make one for herself, weaving stalks of grass together as she had seen Dothraki women do during her time with Drogo, but either she was using the wrong sort of grass or she simply lacked the necessary skill. Her hats all fell to pieces in her hands. Try again, she told herself. You will do better the next time. You are the blood of the dragon, you can make a hat. She tried and tried, but her last attempt had been no more successful than her first.

~

Once I dreamed of flying, she thought, and now I’ve flown, and dream of stealing eggs. That made her laugh. “Men are mad and gods are madder,” she told the grass, and the grass murmured its agreement.

~

Dany wedged herself into that corner, making a nest of sorts by tearing up handfuls of the grass that grew around the ruins. She was very tired, and fresh blisters had appeared on both her feet, including a matched set upon her pinky toes. It must be from the way I walk, she thought, giggling.

~

She wondered how the ants had managed to climb over it and find her. To them these tumbledown stones must loom as huge as the Wall of Westeros. The biggest wall in all the world, her brother Viserys used to say, as proud as if he’d built it himself.

Viserys told her tales of knights so poor that they had to sleep beneath the ancient hedges that grew along the byways of the Seven Kingdoms. Dany would have given much and more for a nice thick hedge. Preferably one without an anthill.

~

Dany, starved, slid off his back and ate with him, ripping chunks of smoking meat from the dead horse with bare, burned hands. In Meereen I was a queen in silk, nibbling on stuffed dates and honeyed lamb, she remembered. What would my noble husband think if he could see me now? Hizdahr would be horrified, no doubt. But Daario ...

Daario would laugh, carve off a hunk of horsemeat with his arakh, and squat down to eat beside her.

 ADWD Daenerys IX

Behind her, Reznak leaned in to whisper in her ear, “Magnificence, hear how they love you!”

No, she knew, they love their mortal art.

 ADWD Daenerys VII

Reznak mo Reznak bowed and beamed. “Magnificence, every day you grow more beautiful. I think the prospect of your wedding has given you a glow. Oh, my shining queen!”

Dany sighed.

~

She sat upon her cushions, listening, one foot jiggling with impatience.

~

Dany envied the Dothraki maids their loose sandsilk trousers and painted vests. They would be much cooler than her in her tokar, with its heavy fringe of baby pearls. “Help me wind this round myself, please. I cannot manage all these pearls by myself.”

~

“The day is too hot to be shut up in a palanquin,” said Dany. “Have my silver saddled. I would not go to my lord husband upon the backs of bearers.”

“Your Grace,” said Missandei, “this one is so sorry, but you cannot ride in a tokar.”

The little scribe was right, as she so often was. The tokar was not a garment meant for horseback. Dany made a face. “As you say. Not the palanquin, though. I would suffocate behind those drapes. Have them ready a sedan chair.” If she must wear her floppy ears, let all the rabbits see her.

 ADWD Daenerys VI

The bride is dressed in dark red veils above a tokar of white silk, fringed with baby pearls.”

The queen of the rabbits must not be wed without her floppy ears. “All those pearls will make me rattle when I walk.”

~

“Daenerys, my queen, I will gladly wash you from head to heel if that is what I must do to be your king and consort.”

“To be my king and consort, you need only bring me peace.[”]

~

Dany hurried off, calling for her handmaids. She would not welcome her captain home in a tokar. In the end she tried a dozen gowns before she found one she liked, but she refused the crown that Jhiqui offered her.

 ADWD Daenerys IV

Oft have I heard that yours is the blood of Aegon the Conqueror, Jaehaerys the Wise, and Daeron the Dragon. The noble Hizdahr is of the blood of Mazdhan the Magnificent, Hazrak the Handsome, and Zharaq the Liberator.”

“His forebears are as dead as mine. Will Hizdahr raise their shades to defend Meereen against its enemies? I need a man with ships and swords. You offer me ancestors.”

~

“Bright queen,” he said, “you have grown more beautiful in my absence. How is this thing possible?”

The queen was accustomed to such praise, yet somehow the compliment meant more coming from Daario than from the likes of Reznak, Xaro, or Hizdahr.

 ADWD Daenerys III

“Let us speak instead of love, of dreams and desire and Daenerys, the fairest woman in this world. I am drunk with the sight of you.”

She was no stranger to the overblown courtesies of Qarth. “If you are drunk, blame the wine.”

 ADWD Daenerys II

Dany seated herself on a cushion, crossed her legs, and gazed up at him.

 ADWD Daenerys I

The tokar was a master’s garment, a sign of wealth and power.

Dany had wanted to ban the tokar when she took Meereen, but her advisors had convinced her otherwise. “The Mother of Dragons must don the tokar or be forever hated,” warned the Green Grace, Galazza Galare. “In the wools of Westeros or a gown of Myrish lace, Your Radiance shall forever remain a stranger amongst us, a grotesque outlander, a barbarian conqueror. Meereen’s queen must be a lady of Old Ghis.” Brown Ben Plumm, the captain of the Second Sons, had put it more succinctly. “Man wants to be the king o’ the rabbits, he best wear a pair o’ floppy ears.”

~

The slippers the Butcher King had sent her had grown too uncomfortable. Dany kicked them off and sat with one foot tucked beneath her and the other swinging back and forth. It was not a very regal pose, but she was tired of being regal. The crown had given her a headache, and her buttocks had gone to sleep.

~

In the afternoon a sculptor came, proposing to replace the head of the great bronze harpy in the Plaza of Purification with one cast in Dany’s image. She denied him with as much courtesy as she could muster.

~

As Dany stood, her tokar began to slip. She caught it and tugged it back in place.

  A Storm of Swords

ASOS Daenerys VI

Her audience chamber was on the level below, an echoing high-ceilinged room with walls of purple marble. It was a chilly place for all its grandeur. There had been a throne there, a fantastic thing of carved and gilded wood in the shape of a savage harpy. She had taken one long look and commanded it be broken up for firewood. “I will not sit in the harpy’s lap,” she told them. Instead she sat upon a simple ebony bench. It served, though she had heard the Meereenese muttering that it did not befit a queen.

Her bloodriders were waiting for her. Silver bells tinkled in their oiled braids, and they wore the gold and jewels of dead men. Meereen had been rich beyond imagining. Even her sellswords seemed sated, at least for now.

 ASOS Daenerys V

“I must have this city,” she told them, sitting crosslegged on a pile of cushions, her dragons all about her.

 ASOS Daenerys IV

Dany sat crosslegged on a cushion, and Viserion spread his white-and-gold wings and flapped to her side.

~

“Do all the Yunkai’i whine so over a singed tokar? I shall buy you a new one ... if you deliver up your slaves within three days. Elsewise, Drogon shall give you a warmer kiss.”

~

When the old man came, she was curled up inside her hrakkar pelt, whose musty smell still reminded her of Drogo.

 ASOS Daenerys I

The narrow sea was often stormy, and Dany had crossed it half a hundred times as a girl, running from one Free City to the next half a step ahead of the Usurper’s hired knives. She loved the sea. She liked the sharp salty smell of the air, and the vastness of horizons bounded only by a vault of azure sky above. It made her feel small, but free as well. She liked the dolphins that sometimes swam along beside Balerion, slicing through the waves like silvery spears, and the flying fish they glimpsed now and again. She even liked the sailors, with all their songs and stories. Once on a voyage to Braavos, as she’d watched the crew wrestle down a great green sail in a rising gale, she had even thought how fine it would be to be a sailor.

~

But later that night, as Balerion plunged onward through the dark and Dany sat crosslegged on her bunk in the captain’s cabin, feeding her dragons—“Even upon the sea,” Groleo had said, so graciously, “queens take precedence over captains”—a sharp knock came upon the door.

[...] Dany pulled up a coverlet and tucked it in under her arms. She was naked, and had not expected a caller at this hour.

 A Clash of Kings

ACOK Daenerys V

She was breaking her fast on a bowl of cold shrimp-and-persimmon soup when Irri brought her a Qartheen gown, an airy confection of ivory samite patterned with seed pearls. “Take it away,” Dany said. “The docks are no place for lady’s finery.”

~

"I have won no victories," she tried telling her handmaid when the bell tinkled softly.

Jhiqui disagreed. "You burned the maegi in their house of dust and sent their souls to hell."

That was Drogon's victory, not mine, Dany wanted to say, but she held her tongue. The Dothraki would esteem her all the more for a few bells in her hair.

~

“I regret if we caused you alarm. If truth be told, we were not certain, we expected someone more ... more ...”

“Regal?” Dany laughed. She had no dragon with her, and her raiment was hardly queenly.

 ACOK Daenerys III

Rhaegal hissed and dug sharp black claws into her bare shoulder as Dany stretched out a hand for the wine. Wincing, she shifted him to her other shoulder, where he could claw her gown instead of her skin.

~

“Weep, weep, for the treachery of men.”

Dany would sooner have wept for her gold. The bribes she’d tendered to Mathos Mallarawan, Wendello Qar Deeth, and Egon Emeros the Exquisite might have bought her a ship, or hired a score of sellswords.

~

The crown was the only offering she’d kept. The rest she sold, to gather the wealth she had wasted on the Pureborn.

~

“Did I not give you an army, sweetest of women? A thousand knights, each in shining armor.”

The armor had been made of silver and gold, the knights of jade and beryl and onyx and tourmaline, of amber and opal and amethyst, each as tall as her little finger. “A thousand lovely knights,” she said, “but not the sort my enemies need fear. And my bullocks cannot carry me across the water[”]

~

“The Milk Men shun him. Khaleesi, do you see the girl in the felt hat? There, behind the fat priest. She is a—”

“—cutpurse,” finished Dany. She was no pampered lady, blind to such things. She had seen cutpurses aplenty in the streets of the Free Cities, during the years she’d spent with her brother, running from the Usurper’s hired knives.

~

“No trick,” a woman said in the Common Tongue.

Dany had not noticed Quaithe in the crowd, yet there she stood, eyes wet and shiny behind the implacable red lacquer mask. “What mean you, my lady?”

“Half a year gone, that man could scarcely wake fire from dragonglass. He had some small skill with powders and wildfire, sufficient to entrance a crowd while his cutpurses did their work. He could walk across hot coals and make burning roses bloom in the air, but he could no more aspire to climb the fiery ladder than a common fisherman could hope to catch a kraken in his nets.”

[...] “And now?”

“And now his powers grow, Khaleesi. And you are the cause of it.”

“Me?” She laughed. “How could that be?”

The woman stepped closer and lay two fingers on Dany’s wrist. “You are the Mother of Dragons, are you not?”

 ACOK Daenerys I

“I fear no ghosts. Dragons are more powerful than ghosts.” And figs are more important.

 A Game of Thrones

AGOT Daenerys III

“You dare!” he screamed at her. “You give commands to me? To me?” He vaulted off the horse, stumbling as he landed. His face was flushed as he struggled back to his feet. He grabbed her, shook her. “Have you forgotten who you are? Look at you. Look at you!”

Dany did not need to look. She was barefoot, with oiled hair, wearing Dothraki riding leathers and a painted vest given her as a bride gift. She looked as though she belonged here.

AGOT Daenerys II

Other gifts she was given in plenty by other Dothraki: slippers and jewels and silver rings for her hair, medallion belts and painted vests and soft furs, sandsilks and jars of scent, needles and feathers and tiny bottles of purple glass, and a gown made from the skin of a thousand mice. "A handsome gift, Khaleesi," Magister Illyrio said of the last, after he had told her what it was. "Most lucky." The gifts mounted up around her in great piles, more gifts than she could possibly imagine, more gifts than she could want or use.

AGOT Daenerys I

“We will have it all back someday, sweet sister,” he would promise her. Sometimes his hands shook when he talked about it. “The jewels and the silks, Dragonstone and King’s Landing, the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms, all they have taken from us, we will have it back.” Viserys lived for that day. All that Daenerys wanted back was the big house with the red door, the lemon tree outside her window, the childhood she had never known.

~

When he was gone, Dany went to her window and looked out wistfully on the waters of the bay. The square brick towers of Pentos were black silhouettes outlined against the setting sun. Dany could hear the singing of the red priests as they lit their night fires and the shouts of ragged children playing games beyond the walls of the estate. For a moment she wished she could be out there with them, barefoot and breathless and dressed in tatters, with no past and no future and no feast to attend at Khal Drogo's manse.

[ducktracy]

156. i only have eyes for you (1937)

release date: march 6th, 1937

series: merrie melodies

director: tex avery

starring: joe twerp (iceman), elvia allman (old maid, katie canary)

tex’s merrie melody input would grow stronger and stronger. by the end of the year, he’d be directing merrie melodies exclusively all the way until 1941. his next cartoon, a looney tune, would change the face of looney tunes for generations to come—porky’s duck hunt introduces us to the enigma that is daffy duck. but for now, the local ice delivery man attempts to win over katie canary by crooning. however, his methods for achieving such golden pipes are seldom legitimate.

right away, the story launches into a catchy little jive in minor key, exposing the plot. the ice delivery man, a bird with an overbite doing an eddie cantor eye roll as he rolls along in his jalopy, is on his way to deliver ice to his least favorite house. an old hag is absolutely smitten with him, to the point of sexual harassment as she flaunts the ever scandalous YOO HOO! sign in her window. the lyrics are highly amusing: “she orders 50 pounds of ice 10 times a week, he hates delivering ice to her!” the old maid’s line of attack is to lure the iceman in with her baked delicacies (”how our hero hates the stuff the old maid makes!”)

elsewhere, we stumble upon katie canary, who has our hero “nutty as a loon” (foreshadowing to porky’s duck hunt?) while iceman is out begrudgingly delivering unforeseen amounts of ice to a creep, his true love is obsessed with the crooners, perched in front of the radio, her house adorned with photos of crooners like bing crosby, eddie cantor, al jolson, and rudy vallee. why cantor and jolson are considered crooners beats me, but it’s certainly funny nonetheless.

it wasn’t long after this cartoon that joe dougherty was fired from the studio on account of his stutter being too out of control. in fact, the next porky cartoon, porky’s romance, would be his last. the directors made their frustration working with dougherty known, so much so that tex avery decided to lampoon it in this cartoon here. as iceman prepares to drop off his delivery to the old maid, he stumbles on his words and switches them up (joe twerp providing the vocals instead of joe dougherty): “ gy mosh—er, uh—my gosh. this old maid pure is a shest... er, boy, she sure is a pest.” i feel bad for dougherty, as he was talented in my eyes, but i can sympathize with tex’s frustration. dougherty’s stutter caused a lot of retakes, which, in turn, cost a lot of money. it’s easy to be fed up. while this isn’t the most friendly of characters in terms of background, i admit that it amuses me a lot, knowing the backstory.

sure enough, the old maid IS a pest. iceman creeps into the house, shifty-eyed as he gingerly drops a block of ice in the icebox. the coast is eerily clear, and for good reason. great setup on tex’s part: she’s baking pies, putting up creepy signs, she makes her presence known. so why isn’t she breathing down iceman’s neck? the tension is very strong and very believable. with that, iceman tiptoes out, his speed gaining as he grows more and more relieved... until the door slams shut as the old maid pins him inside, waiting behind the door the entire time. 

right away, the old maid attempts to corner the iceman, shoving food in his face she had been storing behind her back. the iceman struggles to refuse, stumbling “oh, tho nanks. er, na thonks. er, not me!” the gag picks up in momentum as poor, meek iceman almost breaks out into a backwards run, the old maid pulling out donuts and watermelons and turkeys behind her back with the utmost of ease and nonchalance. 

terrified, the iceman pins himself against a wall, which turns out to be a murphy bed. the bed flops onto the ground, concealing the iceman, while the old maid sighs in perverted satisfaction. “at last, a MAN!”

i can only wonder if bob clampett animated this next scene, seeing as it would be reused in the daffy doc. while a hysterical surgeon-to-be daffy crawls in and around a bed with a handsaw, pursuing a terrified porky, the old maid dives under the bed and crawls on top of it, pursuing the iceman in a VERY similar fashon. nevertheless, iceman outsmarts the old maid, jumping out of the bed and allowing the murphy bed to spring back into the wall, old maid inside it and all. a famous, amusing tex avery-ism as iceman hops into his truck and screeches away. suddenly, he reverses, giving an exhausted “whew!” to the audience before speeding out of sight once more.

finally, a more pleasant delivery as iceman arrives to the abode of his crush, katie canary. but this is a different delivery—our hero comes bearing flowers. he bumbles his way inside, katie still perched in front of her own love, the radio, fiddling with the dial. “fere’s some howers—er—how’s some fleers—“ while iceman stumbles his way through, katie rudely hushes him as she finds her desired radio station. the warm warbles of bing crosby’s “let it be me” fill the air, and katie listens, enraptured, while iceman leans against the radio in a huff. borrowed from another tex entry, i love to singa, bing interrupts his singing. “don’t lean on the radio, son, you bother me.”

when the song ends, iceman perks up, offering his flowers to katie. however, katie still refuses. this is the first of MANY, MANY, MANY katharine hepburn impressions, primarily in tex avery cartoons. tex just LOVED kat’s voice, finding it as the perfect lampoon. katie speaks in the hepburn inflection, shooing him away. “please go away. cahn’t you see i’m saving my haaht and my lahv for radio croonahs? someday, somewhere, sometime i shall marry one, and i know we should be all so tehhribly happy, rahlly i do.” poor iceman wilts, along with his flowers, a telltale sign of Lost Romance. iceman sulks out the door, nearly dragging along across the floor.

in his jalopy, iceman hilariously struggles to sing a rendition of “let it be me”, eventually giving up and growling “aw, let it go, let it go...” carl stalling’s musical accompaniment is excellent, the chorus repeating like a broken record as the iceman tries his damnest to get the words right. this start/stop approach of music would accompany porky plenty of times when he himself tries to sing (like when he struggles to sing “singin’ in the bathtub” in polar pals.) 

suddenly, iceman perks up as he stumbles across a sign: 

PROF. MOCKINGBIRD

VENTRILOQUIST

AND

IMITATOR

but of course! an impressionist! tex fills up some time by including closeups of signs, such as the aforementioned one and the sign outside of the prof’s door that advertises PROF. MOCKINGBIRD -- PRIVATE. prof. mockingbird greets him with a “hullo, strenza!” (a yiddishism reused from i love to singa) and iceman tries to get to the point. after struggling, he cuts to the chase. “look, do something!”

mockingbird more than obliges. because this is a tex avery cartoon, not only does the bird perfectly imitate ducks, dogs, roosters, even car horns, he contorts his body to accompany his display of talent, even twisting and bending himself around as he imitates an airplane. iceman is certainly impressed. “that’s swell. er, that’s crell, but can ya swoon? er, can ya swim? i mean, can you croon?” a few lines of the title song (the actual song, not the exposition!) confirms iceman’s suspicions. floored, iceman yanks mockingbird out of the office and stows him away in the back of his ice truck.

back to iceman’s pursuit as katie canary elegantly swipes her hand through her “hair” (bob clampett animation), peering out the window, when warm warbles catch her ear. delighted, she rushes to the window, spotting none other than iceman singing “i only have ice for you” from his truck. a lovely layout and angle. and, as expected, we see mockingbird inside the truck, supplying the vocals instead of iceman, both pantomiming one another. the scene is humorous as it is with the fake vocals, but iceman pantomiming the unseen mockingbird is even better.

katharine katie has been won over. “i knew he’d come, my lover, my sweet one!” she provides a mini soliloquy as she theatrically poses on her staircase, dreaming of how “sadly happy” she will be. “oh, at lahst, to be held in the arms of a crooner, it will make me so sadly happy... rahlly, it will.” tex would have a field day with katharine hepburn soliloquies, as he displays in his epic hamateur night. katie eagerly hops in iceman’s jalopy, and together they ride.

inside, however, is a bleaker scene: mockingbird is positively freezing. another fun tex(t) gag as iceman shiftily rings a buzzer on the side of the truck. inside, a sign blazes SWING IT! the poor mockingbird gives a nasally, shuddering, poor rendition of the eponymous song, trying not to freeze to death. katie grows slightly suspicious as sounds of an oncoming sneeze loom, but shrugs it off as the vocals revert to semi-normal. 

“boy, it’s bloody cold in here!” interjects the mockingbird. katie grows increasingly curious and suspicious as iceman recognizes his folly. the vocals grow worse and worse (yet funnier for the audience.) hilarious animation by who i presume to be is bob clampett, with katie’s suspicious grimaces and winks, iceman batting his eyelashes and shrinking into himself, it has clampett written all over it (and those expressions would be reused in similar nature to some of his cartoons. porky’s badtime story and baby bottleneck come to mind for the grimaces and the eyelash batting.)

finally, mockingbird gives a behemoth of a sneeze, blowing iceman’s cover as the entire back half of the truck is ripped off, a freezing iceman quivering on a block of ice. katie stares down iceman as he wrings his hat, his tail between his legs.

and so-- (signaled with a highly amusing offscreen ed wynn warbling “SO--” ), we find katie canary pouring boiling hot water in a wash tub, where the recovering mockingbird is soaking his feet in an attempt to warm up. two movers come in and haul away katie’s fated radio, replacing it with a refrigerator. katie and the mockingbird happily embrace.

AND OUR HERO—he sits in the old maid’s kitchen, feeding him all the delicacies he could dream of. he devours a pie, and while he prepares to dig in for another, he finds himself holding the old maid instead, prepping for a kiss. iceman recoils, pausing to put on sunglasses and hesitantly accepting the kiss. he addresses the audience, stumbling on his words, until he gets to the point—“well anyhow, she can cook!” iris out on the unlikely couple as they kiss once more.

this is an intriguing cartoon that i grew to appreciate the more i watched. the opening number was catchy as can be, and implementing the title song as a rendition sung questionably and sickly is certainly an interesting choice. it’s obvious tex wanted to do more than just advertise a song—it’s almost as if he was like “i’ll give you your damn song, alright.” while tex is hardly sentimental or endearing, this is definitely an endearing cartoon. you can easily sympathize with the iceman and his search for love. you can feel the apprehension as he treks through the dangerous territory that is the old maid’s kitchen, you can feel his heartache when katie canary dismisses him away in favor of her crooners, you can feel his red hot embarrassment as his fake crooner plans turn awry. he has much more personality than he lets on... or perhaps he just resonates more than usual. the whole stuttering thing was highly amusing, too. you can tell tex really wanted to go the roy atwell approach with dougherty, mixing up sentences and words and cutting to the chase, but couldn’t because of dougherty’s stutter. joe twerp does an excellent job and is one step closer to tex’s dreams being realized. tex’s next cartoon, porky’s duck hunt, his dream would be fully realized as mel blanc takes the stage as porky for the first time.

in all, this is a good short! i enjoyed it quite a lot. it has a lot of personality to it, and it’s certainly a different approach to the merrie melodies as we’ve been seeing. give it a go!

link!