#hell maybe even leaping dancer

[danelloevee-sky]

This week's TS sounds like an old man

[miniimapp]

Aaron Z - Actually, Cassidy, I Am Busy

Gen ;; Fluff - Headcanons

Warnings ;; Noooo ??

Proofread + Edited ;; only when adding the seasoning (bold,, italics,, purple,, etc.)

Auth. Note ;; I love highschool!Aaron Z too much,, he's so precious TT^TT

This turned out much longer than anticipated (💀), so I do hope you enjoy !!

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Ah,, the school production

How you've missed the last minute rehearsals, the after show parties, mouthing conversations across the stage and that one girl who got the lead and won't shut the hell up about it

What's not to love ??

Okay,, maybe you're being unnecessarily pessimistic

Because you'll still come back

Every

Single

Time

Honestly,, it's a problem at this point

Like masochism but without the physical pain

Though it is sometimes physical

Like,,

Whoever the fuck is responsible for some of these dance moves needs to chopped into little pieces and fed to some hungry piranhas

You've rolled your ankle and nearly shattered it into smithereens about a hundred times

Rehearsals have just started and you're on your first fucking dance number

Clumsy is looking like a bit of an understatement at this point

You're not normally like this, you swear !!

You're just not much of a dancer

At least not these dance moves anyway

Who decided a high kick followed by step-turn followed by another high kick and then a roll and then a fucking leap into yet another bloody high kick was a good and necessary part of the routine

You'd do just fine with a few arm waves.. maybe a YMCA if we're feeling particularly adventurous

You have a few choice words for them

Or maybe a whole ass speech

We'll see how articulate you are when you find them

As you huff and puff through your anger you don't notice the sound of footsteps behind you

"What are you doing?"

An ungodly shriek flies from your lips as you jump nearly three fucking feet in the air

You curl into a nearby wall, grasping at your chest as if that would slow your racing heart

"What the hell, man?"

You groan at the cackling boy behind you

Aaron Z

Fucking prick

Since being forced together as what essentially boiled down to patient and nurse,, the two of you had grown close

Bit hard not to when you can't catch a single break from one another

"Couldn't resist, sorry."

You held up your fist, shaking it mockingly

"One of these days I'll get a bell on you and then we'll see what's funnier."

"I could be wearing a foghorn that goes off whenever I come within 6 feet of you and you still wouldn't notice. You'd be too stuck inside that head of yours."

You roll your eyes but concede with a smile

"Whatever, man."

"Anyway, wanna let me in on what has you so.. "

"Excited? Thrilled? Jumping for joy? Sure thing, Z, let me fill you in on what I so dearly love about these shows!"

Z furrows his brow and looks almost.. scared ??

Dramatic fucker

"I've truly missed practically breaking my ankle every other second oh so much, haven't you?"

"..I just got off crutches.."

...

Fuck

"Right, that was ill-timed, huh.. but you get my point!"

Z kinda just stares at your blankly as you fight the urge to sigh

"..Okay, so maybe you don't get my point.."

"You know, I don't know if I even know my point.. oh well, just know that my feet hurt and I'm ready to throw hands!"

Z blinked at you slowly before nodding

"Sure, you do that.."

You,, lost in your righteous fury,, don't register the sarcasm and nod firmly

"I absolutely will do that, just you watch me. I swear, when I get my hands on that-"

"Z! We need some help with the choreo over here, could you spare us a second?"

Your eyes narrow at the interruption before widening in slow realisation

"Be right over!" Z yells back before turning to you. "See ya."

You glare at his shrinking figure..

So he's the bitch that's decided to cast ruin upon your ankles..

Very well,, two can play that game !!

You'll give him just as good as you get

Over the following weeks you pulled some..uh,, harmless (??) pranks on Z

All necessary reparations for the damages to your body,, mind and soul,, of course !!

Really,, you didn't ever do anything bad to him.. just caused some mild inconvenience

Like,, when he changed shoes for dancing you'd spray the insides of his trainers with water

Or putting his playlist on shuffle when he's across the room

Or "accidentally" breaking his bluetooth connection by turning off his speaker and then turning it back on again.. multiple times throughout rehearsals

You would never do anything actually harmful !!

All tricks are mildly inconvenient and annoying at worst and funny at best !!

You swear !!

Please no arrest..

A month or so before the show you notice Z getting actually frustrated at one of your little.. pranks

So you decide to quit them,, they were pretty petty after all

Unfortunately,, in the process of putting a stop to your trickster ways Z notices you in your trickster ways

Needless to say,, he's not all that.. impressed

(It's not your fault the guy's been attempting to break your bones every rehearsal,, whether intentionally or not..)

So an apology it is..

SIKE

As if !!

Just because he's perpetually in crutches doesn't mean you want be

Haha loser..

...

Okay,, okay

So maybe you do apologise after all

That last thought made you feel kinda bad.. it's not Z's fault his limbs are too long and don't listen to him

(It's prolly because they're so far away from his brain..)

Although,, and you hate to admit it,, he somehow overcomes the limits of his lankiness and becomes quite.. graceful when he dances

It's pretty cool to watch..

He looks very at home,, not just in the space but also in his body

It's enchanting to watch

(IN A COMPLETELY PLATONIC WAY AHAHAHAHA)

Haha..

.. anyway

Z, to your surprise, takes the situation really well

Like,, bursts out laughing kinda well

Which, let's be clear, you were so relieved by, you'd been expecting him to be pretty upset about it

But no,, Z's spent enough time around his friends and their pranks to be able to find the humour in your "revenge"

If anything you accidentally incite a prank wars type situation

Which really solidifies your crush ahem,, sorry friendship

You know what they say,, friends that prank together stay together

(Though I guess it's less pranking together and more each other.. oh well)

The war spans the rest of the rehearsal period,, each one a (probably sloppy) attempt to one-up the last

It's fun

And better yet it's mostly harmless

Mostly...

There was that one time a bucket barely missed your head when Z was attempting to douse you in glitter

At least you would've had a concussion in style ??

Anyway,, the prank war was pretty much harmless

No fatal wounds were received which has to count as a win,, right ??

You both made it to opening night unharmed !!

And someone seemed to pick up on your disgruntled attitude during dance rehearsals because suddenly there were a lot more breaks and in depth dance breakdowns

And wouldn't you know it,, the ensemble began picking everything up 12x faster

A greater miracle you've never seen

And if by opening night the prank wars are somehow still going..

Well,, the glint in Z's eyes whenever they catch yours tells you more than enough

You're in for a treat

[eddieandbird]

Needs

Summary: Things become tense between you and Joseph since moving into his London flat. tw/tags: fluff|f!reader|joe’s pov|cursing|hurt/comfort|possesive!joe|drinking ment| A/N: it’s been a long while since i wrote a joe quinn blurb, hope i still got it - bird

I really can not believe you. You were out the entire night and didn’t even give a word about where you were going. I could feel my stomach bubbling with anxiety when I called your cell and you didn’t answer right away. When you finally texted me your location, I leaped up from the couch and got there as soon as I could. Anger was buzzing around my head, flushing my cheeks. I couldn’t even be bothered to play the radio. My breathing was erratic, I don’t think I was able to exhale properly until I saw you there.

I rolled down my window to see you on the curb, your lipstick smudged across your cheek and you held your strappy heels in your lap. My disappointed look met your sorrowful one before I demanded 

“That’s enough, yeah? Get in the car,” Your sigh developed a cloud in the cold London air, but not another word came from you when you got into the passenger seat. Not a “Thank you for picking me up, Joe,” or an “I’m sorry Love, I missed you,”. Just a car ride filled with thick silence and hardly audible breaths. 

Upon arriving back at the flat, you rushed to throw your shoes carelessly at the front door and stomped to the kitchen.

 “Oh that’s lovely isn’t it?” I said sarcastically, my back pressed up against the side of the refrigerator. “Not only did I wait up on you all night and find you on the street, I have to pick up your mess too. Thanks for that, Darling,” You opened the fridge, obstructing my view of you. 

“What do you want from me Joe?” you groaned, rummaging through our foods. 

“Right now? Absolutely nothing. The whole night? I was pacing the floors wanting to know where you were, then finally when I heard from you, I came to find you absolutely pissed in a gutter!” I raised my voice, something I’ve rarely done in front of you. I could see you flinched, your hand shot away from the door handle.

You slammed the fridge door closed and insisted on being inches away from my face. “You smell alcohol on me, Babe? I haven’t been drinking,” you blurted before pushing your palms into my chest. 

“Then what’s with your makeup running down your face? And why are you dressed like a go-go dancer?” I wrapped my hands around your wrists and pulled your attention back to me. “I wanted to go out… but I got lost. Didn’t even make it to the pub. Cried my fucking eyes out in the alleyway,” You couldn’t keep eye contact as you admitted it to me. 

“Now what the hell are you doing wandering around London without me? It’s not safe. You don’t know your way round here yet,” I said firmly.

“What am I supposed to do, Joe? I’m bored! I’ve been waiting all week to go out with you and you haven’t had any time for me!” You spat with tears welling up in your eyes. I broke my gaze in an attempt to prevent myself from crying.

“I thought we went over this, yeah? It’s not like I’m out at parties, I am working. Working for you, right? Cuz I love you. I wanted you to have this comfortable flat because I know how hard it was to move out here,” I strained to say. 

“Sure this place is nice but it’s lonely without you here. And I know you have to work, I get it, I just… think maybe we made a mistake,” It was painful hearing you say that. 

“S-so what are you saying? Do you want to move back to America?” My voice shook. “Because I’m telling you right now, it will not happen. I will not force you to stay… but know that I will do anything to make you want to stay,” I sheepishly held my arms out. Every fiber of me begged for you to come embrace me. “Please I-“

My pathetic monologue was graciously interrupted by you holding me. I wrapped my arms around you tightly and kissed you harder than I ever had.

“I’m sorry… I promise I’ll let you know where I’m going next time. That was really stupid of me,” You sobbed into my chest and I pressed my lips to your forehead.

“I’m sorry too. I’ll be sure to schedule dates like I used to. I’ve been busy, but I will never be too busy for you,” I picked your chin up off my chest and looked down at you. My heart melted at the sight of you looking up at me with love in your eyes. They then fluttered closed and I brought you in for another tender kiss.

[darlingsomeone]

Re-listening to Danse Macabre, an old fashioned waltz — bits and pieces from a good omens fan.

Et vive la mort et l’égalité!

My take: something has been lost when looking at this lovely tone poem if all we get is awfulness or despair. This dance is the embodiment of seizing the day (or night in this case) even past death.

First though, if you’re into this kind of thing, is some analysis of how it is constructed.

Everything is meant. “The piece begins with twelve repeated notes from the harp, signifying a clock striking midnight. The violin scratches out a series of imperfect fifths that do not resolve as they should in well-mannered tonal music. The devil is warming up to play a diabolical dance in a fast waltz time. The waltz had only lately become respectable.”

The original song-poem lyrics with English translation can be found here. More thoughts under the cut:

It’s hard to hope that links speak for themselves if someone is skimming a goofy post like this. The lyrics, then, French and English:

“Danse macabre

Zig et zig et zig, la mort cri en cadence

Frappant une tombe avec son talon,

La mort à minuit joue un air de danse,

Zig et zig et zag, sur son violon.

Le vent d’hiver souffle, et la nuit est sombre,

Des gémissements sortent des tilleuls;

Les squelettes blancs vont à travers l’ombre

Courant et sautant sous leurs grands linceuls,

Zig et zig et zig, chacun se trémousse,

On entend claquer les os des danseurs,

Un couple lascif s’asseoit sur la mousse

Comme pour goûter d’anciennes douceurs.

Zig et zig et zag, la mort continue

De racler sans fin son aigre instrument.

Un voile est tombé! La danseuse est nue!

Son danseur la serre amoureusement.

La dame est, dit-on, marquise ou baronne.

Et le vert galant un pauvre charron—

Horreur! Et voilà qu’elle s’abandonne

Comme si le rustre était un baron!

Zig et zig et zig, quelle sarabande!

Quels cercles de morts se donnant la main!

Zig et zig et zag, on voit dans la bande

Le roi gambader auprès du vilain!

Mais psit! tout à coup on quitte la ronde,

On se pousse, on fuit, le coq a chanté…

Oh! La belle nuit pour le pauvre monde!

Et vive la mort et l’égalité!

*

Tap, tap, tap—Death rhythmically (1997) English translation © Richard Stokes

Tap, tap, tap—Death rhythmically,

Taps a tomb with his heel,

Death at midnight plays a gigue,

Tap, tap, tap, on his violin.

The Winter wind blows, the night is dark,

The lime-trees groan aloud;

White skeletons flit across the gloom,

Running and leaping beneath their huge shrouds

Tap, tap, tap, everyone’s astir,

You hear the bones of the dancers knock,

A lustful couple sits down on the moss,

As if to savour past delights.

Tap, tap, tap, Death continues,

Endlessly scraping his shrill violin

A veil has slipped! The dancer’s naked!

Her partner clasps her amorously.

They say she’s a baroness or marchioness,

And the callow gallant a poor cartwright.

Good God! And now she’s giving herself,

As though the bumpkin were a baron!

Tap, tap, tap, what a saraband!

Circles of corpses all holding hands!

Tap, tap, tap, in the throng you can see

King and peasant dancing together!

But shh! Suddenly the dance is ended,

They jostle and take flight—the cock has crowed…

Ah! Nocturnal beauty shines on the poor!

And long live death and equality!”

Look, these words and the instrument choices speak of equality in the state of death. Possibly a bit the way Crowley would.

Death wasn’t and couldn’t be hidden politely during those days. The arts featured the dance of the dead, just as we still see Memento Mori in media today. The balance of return from oblivion to celebrate outside of hierarchies was not new. Even the dead could still seize the night. Joy does not die.

Remember Crowley saying that people will be equally dead whether they are killed by Heaven or Hell up in that graphic? If anything, this little note from the domesticated Bentley might be a little rebellion, if not overkill. Maybe it’s A Clue to Aziraphale that they might celebrate a little late if he insists on this trip while ignoring Crowley, just as the Bentley’s musical gift to Crowley of the Nightingale reprise in season two.

Look at what the lyrics said.

The dance was already a part of folk custom or lore, and the xylophone was a country instrument. Saint Saëns was well aware of this, and used both the barely acceptable waltz as the dance and coarse instrument of country-folk. This was done deliberately.

This conservative, restrained composer made choices throughout the work. A dance which had been scandalous not so long ago and an instrument ‘of the people’ so to speak. Composed to fit the exacting pattern of “the devil’s interval”which you can read about here, too (yes it can matter). I’m a geek for this kind of thing so here’s that link again.

The idea of the dance already existed, what he did was to elevate it to something so moving and strong that it endures today, despite its original reception by his contemporaries.

The message of the lyrics is lost in the final product, which is a pity for Good Omens fans, but the delight in the dance remains. There is a freedom, celebration and again, an equality among the freed dancers. (Crepes, anyone?) They take their joy where they can, even if the devil plays the tune.

Like Orff’s Carmina Burana, another work celebrating earthly delights and perils, (Ox rib anyone?) O Fortuna being the most recognizable of this work, Danse Macabre is often used to enhance or promote something only in fragments, very specifically omitting the resolved and therefore to me, ‘peaceful’ end to both works.

I seldom hear the resolution of the frantic dance in the promotion of a scary movie or even as used in Hush, an episode of Buffy (yes, the one with The Gentlemen, on one of the links). This does Danse Macabre a great disservice. The point and the peace are cut off abruptly, leaving the listener waiting for the music to knit itself up at dawn. For this listener, the omission is a constant irritant, but I am perhaps an odd duck. I do have ears though, and they know the difference between resolved and not.

It’s oddly like a cliffhanger, really, when only part of the work is played.

While some people say that this piece is “suffocating” or “overwhelming” I can only wonder at the variety of human experience. There is so much unencumbered joy in Danse Macabre, so much literal freedom of the souls to have this time to celebrate.

Young children are routinely introduced to classical music with this piece. If it were so utterly fearsome, it would be a poor choice indeed for such a task.

What it is, without a doubt, is a composition in old fashioned waltz time that goes far from the norm while following a form.

What else could the Bentley give Aziraphale but that truly intimate dance, a waltz, to the tune of equals and a taste of brimstone?

After all, he has standards.

[sabiekay]

Projected 2023 Stories:

AMOK: Of Rambling Thoughts And Too Many Choices (Potential Namjoon x Reader, Seokjin x Reader, or Taehyung x Reader) - 75% written. A 2nd drabble continuing from AMOK: Of Maps, Forms, And Other Crazy Ideas, which itself is an AU of sorts based on and inspired by the wonderful and immersive series A Map of Mrs. Kims by @bonvoyagenoona . Will this be a drabble series as well? WHO KNOWS 🤣🤣 April 2023 note: done and posted here!

After It All (TENTATIVE TITLE) (Post Apocalypse!Taehyung x Reader story) - 10% written but is tabled for the foreseeable future. Post apocalyptic stories are really hard to get in the right mindset for when writing, and while I have a wonderfully haunting prologue written out, I still need to plan out the initial plot and story beats. I hope to return to this one someday. April 2023 note: Still tabled, but have an idea to intermix the written prologue into the rest of the story

Untitled Dancer!Jimin x Neighbor!Reader drabble - Unwritten, but planned. Basically a meet cute involving dance. April 2023 note: AWWW HELL I FORGOT ABOUT THIS ONE 😅😅😅 Will write as soon as my derailed thought train comes back

Untitled Dream A Little Dream (Event Planner!Taehyung x Costuming Assistant!Reader Soulmate story) - Maybe 5% written, in very early stages of writing/planning. A soulmate/coworker romance story set in a former jazz club turned event and performance space April 2023 note: finally have a title! Sadly that’s about as far as I got before I realized I didn’t have a full plot storyboarded. So it’s on the back burner until I figure out the dang plot 🤣

Another Life (Royal Mage!Jimin x Non-Magical Human!Reader, alternate dimension fantasy story) - April 2023 note: why yes, I am that person who thought of a whole entire damn fic while trying to rework other ones LOLOLOLOL But this is the main story I’m currently working on! Storyboarded and starting my first draft. It’s also my first full leap in to the fantasy genre…expect magical powers, alternate universes, and even some royal court intrigue!

There are no release dates at this time, other than I hope to have them completed and posted before December 31, 2023 🤣🤣

[ptergwen]

sensation

w/c: 4.6k

warnings: some swearing, suggestive tings, and a pretty bad ending

summary: it’s the last night of your world tour, and tom has the perfect way to celebrate

a/n: i know y’all have been waiting for this one! everyone really loved when worlds collide but i ran out of ideas for it lol sorry... anyways my solution was to turn it into a oneshot :D based off the au!! i’m honestly nervous about posting this cuz a lot of you asked for it and i don’t wanna disappoint but i tried my absolute hardest to make it special <3 please enjoy

-

“thank you so much! we love you!” you shout to the audience, laughing breathlessly when they shout back. one of your dancers pulls you into a side hug, you throwing your arm around his neck. “we’re so fucking lucky you chose us, that you came all the way here. i’ve seen some of you back at night one. wow.” your voice gets wobbly, thinking about how loyal your fans are.

the tour started in new york, and they’ve followed you here to london.

tonight is an emotional night for everyone. you’re about to wrap your last show before you continue again in the summer. touring the u.k. has been a dream, and you’re just as thrilled to travel the rest of the world after your break. it’s bittersweet because you’re going to miss the hell out of your crew and the millions of lovely faces you’ve sang to each week. but, you do get to spend your time off with a special someone.

he’s watching you from the sound booth, sending fond smiles and loud cheers your way. thanks to you, tom has been at every show you’ve played in england. he brought harry along this time because he’s also a fan and wanted to see you. well, tom is more than a fan at this point. you’d say he’s more of a boyfriend. you haven’t discussed labels just yet.

your dates have mainly been over facetime, since you live on opposite sides of the world with insane schedules. a heartthrob actor and international popstar is quite the combination. you’ve only seen each other in person a couple of times, the first being pretty recently.

zendaya brought tom along to hang out with you in los angeles. he happened to be there recording some lines for a movie. she saw your concert earlier that night and invited him to crash the dinner plans you’d made, resulting in the best surprise and most fun you’ve ever had. the other time you enjoyed each other’s company was one weekend in paris. that was... something.

besides those two miracles, everything between you and tom happens through a screen. you’ll down bottles of champagne or keep warm under blankets while talking about your days. it’s nice, having someone on the other end who listens and actually hears you. tom gets it. you both do.

finishing your tour in london is convenient because not only will you have tom to comfort you, but you get to stick around for a while. he’s invited you to stay at his place. you can’t wait to meet the other holland’s, his friends, and obviously tessa.

“fuck, i’m gonna cry. i’m already crying,” you announce to the crowd, though they can tell from the tears streaming down your face. more dancers huddle around you and turn your single hug into a group one. you’re laughing and sobbing and holding on tight to everyone. fans bawl their own eyes out, the fact that this is it starting to settle in. the onstage crew even gets choked up, seeing you like this.

tom pouts from where he’s watching. he wishes he could run up there and squeeze you tight, but he’ll have to save that for when you’re done.

“i love you all so much, literally every single one of you in this room,” you tell everyone for the nth time tonight, swiping a perfectly manicured finger under your eyes. “my lighting crew, sound crew, my band, my fearless fucking dancers-“ a hiccup cuts you off. people burst into fits of giggles, which is a much needed tension breaker. you adjust your headset so the mic doesn’t pick up any other bodily noises.

grinning, you rest your arm on a shorter dancer’s shoulder, then go on. “sorry, sorry. i just wanna say, like, three more thank you’s before i get out of here.” there’s a chorus of no’s and encouraging whistles at the mention of you leaving. you blink back more tears to delay the breakdown you’re going to have. “thank you to my friends who always show up for me.”

with a knowing smile, you glance over at tom. “and, thank you to my more than a friend.” he smiles back, both hands held over his heart. harry elbows him in congratulations. more screaming erupts from the crowd as they realize where you’re looking and who you’re looking at. this will be sure to spark some headlines. whatever, you’re used to trending on every possible social media platform by now.

“this is the big one,” you preface, taking in a breath while everyone quiets down again. “thank you to you guys. for trusting me, for caring about what i have to say in any way. i feel your love. i really do, and i hope you feel mine.” your fans yell that they love you back, dancers gently swaying you side to side, emotions on high. there’s one last song, and it’s over.

“this has been the sensation tour, and i’ve been your host. was i good?” you try to lighten the mood, earning a bunch of what sound like positive shrieks. the earpiece you have in makes it hard to tell. “y’all were even better.” exchanging looks with your dancers, you pull out of the hug so you can get to your mark for the finale. they follow your lead. music comes through the speakers.

“i’ll see you again soon, okay? i promise. here’s sensation,” you introduce the song, immediately bursting into more tears. it’s torture to say goodbye. thankfully, you have the most incredible fans on earth, so they sing along with you at the top of their lungs. that includes tom and harry, your ultimate stans.

when the show is over, you run right off stage and over to tom. he’s waiting on the side with actual heart eyes for you. you practically leap into his arms, a hand cradling the back of his head, both his arms draped low and tight around your body.

“you were so amazing up there! absolutely smashed it, darling,” tom breathes out. his face is smushed between your neck and mostly bare chest. “thanks, tom. seriously, thanks for being here tonight and every other.” you smile a tired smile and wind your other arm around his neck. he presses some light you’re welcome kisses to your skin. “mm, thanks for having me. how’s it feel to be done?”

you sigh, fingers running through his curls. “like the biggest relief, and also really sad.” you’re such a mess that you could cry again on the spot. tom senses it and lifts his head up to see if you’re alright. “super depressing,” you surprisingly reiterate without the waterworks. “i know the feeling. you’ll be back soon, though. you said it,” he murmurs, a grin on his lips as they brush against the corner of yours.

you’re about to kiss him properly, then one of your dancers comes up to you. you’d forgotten that there are still stage managers and security everywhere, too. you get completely lost in tom whenever you’re together.

“you killed, babe,” coco greets you, linking your arm in hers. tom takes the hint and lets go of you. he watches on with a smirk. “nah, you murdered,” you send the compliment back and bite your lower lip. “i dunno, i feel like someone murdered me!” there’s coco with her dramatics. she’s genuinely hilarious, your shared sense of humor playing a huge part in your friendship.

she brings your free hand to her heart. you gasp at how fast it’s going. “that shit is really beating, coco. are you, like, okay?” “probably not. it was the freestyle that got me.” coco went a lot harder than usual tonight, since it was her last big dance break for a while. she puffs air from her cheeks and nods to tom. “this your man?”

“yeah, you could say that. i’m tom,” he answers, holding out a hand for her. “coco.” she pulls it like you would in a handshake. you beam at them, one of your best friends and unofficial boyfriend finally meeting. “sounds promising. i approve,” coco mutters to you. bumping your hip into hers playfully, you take one of tom’s hands in both of yours.

“aw, we have your blessing or something? your permission?” you coo and get a push at your shoulder from coco in return. tom chuckles, his thumb running over the back of your hand. “no! i was gonna say you should bring him out back,” coco clarifies, like it was obvious. you’re not sure what she’s on about. “uh, what’s out back?” you question. “an axe?” tom teases.

coco gestures to the nearest exit. “we’re having a little goodbye party in the parking lot. fire pit, snacks. remember?” nope, you’d completely forgotten. the idea first sounded like the perfect way to end your night, so you agreed to go. that was before you were dripping sweat and mentally exhausted. now, all you want to do is unwind with tom and tom only.

the superstar life is one you’re happy to lead, just not at this exact moment.

“i do now.” you muster up your most apologetic smile for coco, tugging on tom’s hand. “i’m sorry, co. i think we’re gonna pass.” her jaw drops. you’re never one to skip these things. “aw, for real? it’s our last night!” tom threads his fingers through yours while you talk. “bro, we’ve been together for almost a whole year,” you laugh out, nuzzling your cheek into tom’s chest. “get sick of me.”

“never,” coco deadpans. she catches you gazing up at tom, relaxing as his arms hug your middle. she’s known you long enough to tell what’s a fling and what’s real love for you. this is something special, and she can’t get in the way of it. she’ll let you navigate this yourself. “ok, just for tonight. you’ll text me?” coco gives you a real smile, raising an eyebrow at tom. he gathers that’s a good thing. he’s in.

“mhm. maybe we can hang out tomorrow,” you agree and let your eyes flutter shut. all that’s keeping you up are tom’s strong arms. “tell everyone i love them.” “i think they know.” coco shakes her head lightheartedly. tom laughs at her. “be good,” she tells him and means it, rubbing your back on her way to the lot. that leaves you and tom alone at last.

custodians are cleaning up the arena, fans are piling out, and you’re clinging to tom while his steady heartbeat grounds you. this is the only after party you need.

“harry’s got the car when you’re ready,” tom mumbles, tucking a piece of damp hair behind your ear. you loop your arms around his torso with a hum. “i was kinda wondering where he went.” “yeah?” he gives you a small smile. “gotta ask what he thought... of the show.” yawns are creeping past your lips, tonight’s events catching up to you.

“i like feedback from the fans, or stans,” you elaborate in your sleepy state. tom uses his fingertips to tap your temple. “what about me? i’m your biggest.” “i’ll, um, follow up with you later.” your words are slurring. “right now, home.” warmth spreads throughout tom’s entire body, his house becoming yours for a bit. “your chariot awaits,” he affirms before helping you to your dressing room.

after collecting your things, you follow tom out to the car. harry is in the driver’s seat, and you two slip into the back. he exchanges a look with his brother through the mirror while you settle on his shoulder. you’re hugging his bicep, his lips pressing to the side of your head.

“thank you for driving,” you speak softly to harry. he starts to pull out of the spot with a nod. “no problem. get to say i was y/n y/l/n’s chauffeur.” tom clicks his tongue even though harry is joking. you snicker at his remark, joking back. “you want the job? better be a five star ride, then.” your banter brings yet another smile to tom’s face. his family is everything to him, so seeing you get along so well means the most.

“right, right. did you have a good time?” harry wonders, twisting to see behind him while he turns around. he also peeks at you snuggled up to tom before facing forward. “great, actually. did you?” you check, the grin clear in your voice. harry goes into full stan mode. “no shit! you were brilliant, y/n. god, every note was just like how you did it the studio.” he’s raving, which is much appreciated by you.

“good answer.” tom shoots his brother a wink. “‘s that what you wanted to hear?” he asks in reference to your conversation earlier. your response is a kiss to his shoulder. “yay. i’m happy you liked it, harry.” he buzzes with excitement, having his favorite artist care what he thinks.

not much is said for the rest of the drive. tom and harry make some hushed conversation about golfing this weekend while you struggle to stay awake. they’re obsessed with that damn sport. it’s honestly nice to see, that tom has something he likes to do when he isn’t shooting hollywood’s biggest movies. your free time will finally give you the chance to discover other hobbies.

you stumble out of the car upon arriving to the boys’ place, a backpack on your shoulders and tom’s hand held tight in yours. you’ve got only a few essentials with you for tonight. the rest is on the tour bus, so you’ll gather it after your hangout with coco. besides, everything you need at the moment is right here.

“home sweet home,” tom announces as harry unlocks the front door. his words bring a tired smile to your face. “finally,” you exhale, keeping your fingers laced with tom’s and following the two of them inside. “i could show you around a bit, give you the grand tour. or-“ tom stops talking, feeling your weight on him. harry huffs at how oblivious his brother is.

“mate, she’s falling over. save it,” he suggests and kicks the door shut lazily. you’re done in. you’ve been having to lean on tom since the show ended. “another time, then,” tom mumbles, securing his arm around your waist. “there is one thing i wanna see.” your voice is low, body curled into tom’s side. he raises an eyebrow. “and that is?” “your room.”

tom takes that in a suggestive way, like he does most things. “we’re getting right to it, are we?” he questions, harry gagging and you nudging his arm with your head. “not like that, dummy. ‘cuz i’m sleepy.” there’s a beat of silence. “ask me again in-“ “wow, look at the time!” harry interrupts so he doesn’t have to hear the details. he’s sure he’ll witness enough after it happens. “off to bed i go! goodnight.”

he rushes to get to his room, yelling out, “great show, y/n!” on the way. “thank you! night!” you call back, tom letting out a sigh. “div of the century,” he says under his breath. “must run in the family,” you playfully retort. that gets you a firm poke at your side. “where’s everyone else?” you glance up at him. there should be two other idiots and a lovely, furry lady running around.

“tuwaine’s gone to the pub, harrison’s filming late, and tess is at mum and dad’s,” tom fills you in, grabbing your arm and draping it around his middle. doing him one better, you hug him with both. you squint in confusion about the last part. “they watch her when i’m out,” tom answers your unspoken question. “ah,” you nod, then deflate ever so slightly. “i wanted to meet her, though. the other boys, too.”

tom smooths the pad of his thumb over your cheek. “you will, darling. it’s only for tonight.” he kisses the same spot reassuringly. “we’ve got loads of time.” “yeah, we do,” you agree, instantly cheering up and letting your head fall onto his chest. “now, where’s your room?” “just upstairs. you need some help getting in?” he’s only playing around, but you accept, tightening your arms around his neck.

“show me the way,” you beam at him. “happy to.” tom wiggles his eyebrows, you jumping up. your legs wrap around his waist, his arms holding you against him. with a satisfied hum, you squish your face into his insanely soft shirt. “what a diva,” tom sarcastically complains while taking you to the staircase. “doesn’t even say please. no manners from this one.”

“you try dancing in six inch heels for two hours,” you shoot back, patting the side of his neck. he moves one hand down to your thigh for a better grip. you’re nearing the top of the stairs. “think i’ll leave that to you,” he decides and squeezes your thigh. “look at me, carrying the whole music industry.” your face easily gets hot and your words turn to murmurs. “shut up. you should listen to other songs.”

you’re on the second floor now, tom going for the first door. he frowns at his rejected compliment. “no, i like yours. they’re my favorite.” “really?” your muffled laugh sounds from his chest. “what was the first thing i ever said to you?” he asks, a toothy grin on him even though you can’t see it. you recall the faithful night he slid into your dms while he carries you into his room.

he’d tripped over his words somehow, the fangirling fool. before that, he tweeted to the whole world that he wanted to see you in concert. it was a huge thing, and people were freaking out about it, even more so when your online interactions became routine. that’s nothing compared to where you are now.

you’re currently living with him and basically dating. possibly, in love. the base of it all really is your music.

“that you love me.” you pause for the ellipses. the corners of your lips turn up. “but, you really meant to say my work.” “both apply.” tom passes that off like it’s a side comment, carefully laying you down on his bed. you look up at him with a curious glint in your eyes. “what does that mean?” his cheeks flush, and he bites back the smile that’s growing. this was supposed to go... differently.

you sit up, breathing out a laugh at tom’s boyish behavior. he’s precious, truly. “you do love me?” those three words will change everything if he says yes. he takes both your hands in his and holds them between you two. you meet his doe eyes. “yeah, y/n/n. i do.” so, you were right. “i love you... and, that wasn’t how i planned on saying it.” signaling for him to elaborate, you tilt your head to the side.

tom sits down next to and faces you before continuing. “it was supposed to be romantic, right?” he rolls his eyes up to the ceiling, annoyed he ruined this. “candlelit dinner, flowers, that sort of thing. seems more fitting for the occasion.” you shift closer to him until your knees are touching. your face is lit up, voice dropped to almost a whisper.

“since when do we do things the way we’re supposed to?” you point out and set your hands on his shoulders. “we’ve gone straight from online dating to me moving in. that’s usually not how it works.” tom chuckles lowly. his own hands find their place on your hips. you’re so good with words. then again, you are a singer. “guess you could say we’re, um, spontaneous,” he agrees, fingers drawing circles on you.

you and tom have explored some of each other’s most intimate places, yet you’ve never shared a moment quite like this. it’s like meeting him for the first time again. he’s too tongue tied to spit out what he wants. you somehow know, anyway. what you cherish most about your relationship is that you two completely and totally understand one another, on every level.

“tom?” you speak quietly, butterflies filling up your body. “hm?” he hums back. this is one of those moments where it all just clicks. “i love you. i really, really love you.” you giggle out of the pure happiness that consumes you, tom joining in your laughter. “i love you, too.” he sounds like he’s said it a million times and he’ll say it a million more. he leans over so his forehead rests on yours. “really, really love you.”

your warm breath hits his face, eyes darting from his own to his lips. “i want you to be more than...” you trail off, unsure of how to phrase it. “more than... more than a friend?” tom pokes fun at what you said during the show. there’s less and less space between you with every second. “you mean, like, a boyfriend?”

“exactly. be my boyfriend,” you all but demand. you’re half asleep and desperate to be able to call him yours already. “bossy, bossy, bossy,” tom chastises, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip. how he goes from being shy and giddy to the cockiest person alive in minutes, you’ll never know. “please?” you throw in to sway him. your hand locks with his, slowly moving it off your face.

you run your tongue over your teeth. “at least kiss me.” “you don’t have to ask,” tom breathes, lips now ghosting over yours. “i was going to.” true to his words, he closes the microscopic gap between you, you pushing forward against him as you kiss back. your first kiss in love. his lips taste like the chapstick he always uses, and he moves them softly.

he places a hand on your knee, you opening your mouth so he can have access to it. instead, a yawn exits. tom pulls back with a breathy laugh. “you must be exhausted, yeah? let’s get you to bed.” he pecks your lips once more. “my girl needs her beauty rest.” that confirms your relationship. you scrunch your nose and grin wide. “and, she’s gonna get some with her boy.”

you’re reminded of how sweaty you are when you catch a whiff. “oof, wait. do you think i can take a shower first?” you grimace, fanning at the air for emphasis. tom uses the tip of his nose to nudge yours. “absolutely. need help in there, too?” he’s not asking in that way, only so nothing happens. the hospital wouldn’t be the most pleasant place to spend your break. plus, he doesn’t want to be without you too long.

“you know what? yeah.”

that’s how you end up intertwined under the hot water, letting it cascade down your back as tom hugs you close to him. you sigh in content and tangle your fingers in his fluffed over curls. you’ve learned that he’s super into having his hair played with. it’s endearing, how he instinctively leans into your touch, eyes closing as you tug on the roots.

he drops his head down to kiss your shoulder, dragging his lips to your collarbone in a way that tickles. they land on one of your breasts next. there isn’t anything sexual about it, only loving. just in case he gets too excited because it’s not uncommon he does, you gently put a finger to his lips. tom takes the hint and lets up. you continue combing through his wet hair while you step out of the water.

“do you ever sing in the shower?” he questions, drawing your naked body in closer to his. “sometimes, yeah. i honestly feel like i sound better there,” you admit and slide your hand down to the nape of his neck. tom’s tongue darts out to lick his lips. “not true. you sound beautiful everywhere, and don’t fight me on this one.” he smirks in satisfaction, you groaning at your loss.

“i really enjoy hearing your voice when it blares through an arena, though,” tom keeps buttering you up. you shake your head and settle both arms around his neck. “man, i just love you so much.” “i love you, sweetheart,” he murmurs back, you switching places so he can give his hair a final rinse. you watch him and his glowing body, admiring the sight.

“what a sensation you are,” you say mostly to yourself, which doesn’t stop him from hearing. “i see what you did there.” he eyes you while you do the same to him. your arms still around his neck pull him back to you. “tommy? do you sing in the shower?” you meant to ask him before, then he started throwing all those compliments at you.

tom scoffs, walking you back so you’re against the wall. “i don’t sing anywhere.” “what?” you gasp and put a hand on his chest. “you’re lying, you have to be. wasn’t billy elliot a musical?” he narrows his eyes at you as he tries to gage where you’re going with this. “that i did a decade ago, and way before puberty. couldn’t sing a word without cracking after that.”

your mouth is left hanging open in shock and disappointment. you bet he has a nice voice, and he’s downplaying it. “y/n,” tom begins, cupping your jaw with his palm. “since we’re living together now, there’s a lot you’re going the learn about me. good things, weird things.” he shrugs casually. “this is one of the weird things.”

“only because you make it weird! come on, let me hear you,” you request and wrap a leg around his waist. you’re giving him a hopeful smile. “god, no. you’ll hate it,” he almost laughs, a hand on your thigh. “i’m literally a singer. how could i hate something i love?” you refute, batting your lashes at him. “especially when someone i love is doing it.” “i love you, too. but, i’m not.” he’s quick to shut you down.

“drop a bar!” you try to coax him, which he already has a comeback for. “you first.” “i can’t. my throat is all scratchy from earlier,” you lie. tom presses his lips into a line, feigning pity. “aw, you know what’ll make you feel better? tea. i’ll go get you some.” he turns to shut the water off, so you grab his shoulders. “no, the steam is working. you can stay.”

“love,” tom addresses you in a warning tone that you can’t take seriously. he can’t either, a giggle escaping him. “my voice is shit. ask anyone, and they’ll tell you.” “i won’t believe them,” you hum, pushing back curls sticking to his forehead. “sounds like you just have stage fright. we can work on that, though.” “how?” he tightens his arm around your middle.

“i’ll bring you on for my next show. we’ll do a little duet.” you’re joking, though that would definitely be interesting to see unfold. “uh, never. what happened to you being tired?” tom cleverly deflects and digs his fingers into your side. you look down in defeat. “i forgot about that.” “yeah, yeah. no, seriously. we should really get to sleep, y/n/n.” he’s back to his sweet, attentive self. “‘s been a long night.”

giving in with a nod, you capture his lips in yet another kiss. tom never gets tired of them, and neither do you. you break it after a few seconds, lips lingering on his as they detach. “carry me?” you ask again, not caring how whiny you sound. tom presses a quick kiss to your forehead. “oh, you’re adorable. of course.”

well, you’ve found something to keep you occupied until the next leg of tour. you’re going to discover the many layers your intriguingly unusual boyfriend has.

[whirlybirbs]

✶    —   of gift-giving  ;    d.d.

summary: set post-s2 finale. din deals with the loss of the child. it’s life day. 

pairing: din djarin x mechanic!reader

a/n: happy holidays, babes, enjoy a little emotional blurb on christmas eve. i hope this serves as a happy little distraction from the world tonight. i love you all. stay happy and stay healthy. 

what do you get a man who has just lost his whole world?

before, it seemed like the possibilities for a life day gift were endless.

new modded-out wing thrusters for the razor crest were now out of the question (because the razor crest itself is out of the question), and that set of little, woolen jumpers you’d set aside after a trip to yavin’s third moon have no use. 

and, you seriously doubt din would find little joy in a new blaster. after all, he had enough anxiety resting in the palm of his hand alongside the darksaber — new weaponry would, no doubt, send him into an (increasingly more common) silent spiral.

everything was different now.

you’d seen his face that day, with the horrible moff gideon at your feet as a jedi knight’s robes kissed the polished floor. in the absence of his son — his kin as close as blood — there was something sad that settled into the lines beneath his eyes. if he cried, you did not see. no, you hid your intrigue; when he turned, helmet at his feet, your eyes hit the floor. habit.

but, that is different now.

now, on the eve of life day, you’ve grown accustomed to din’s face and the hot stir the sight of it brings. the feelings you bore for din are common place — they’ve burrowed a home in your heart for cycles, even before the child, back when you were simply an on-hand mechanic from mos eisley. din had taken you into his crew, and... well, you hadn’t looked back.

the kid — grogu — cemented the fact that maybe this was where you really did belong: among the stars, beside a man in glimmering beskar armor. 

at times, it was like he held the world in his hands. eagerly, he showed you what he could. it was one of din’s gifts — silent kindness that seeped deep into his every act. he had a good heart, despite his attempts at seeming more like a stand-offish rogue. 

this place, once home to jabba desilijic tiure, remains unnamed. boba fett has yet to find a fitting name for the sprawling castle in the dunes — but, for now, it is a haven for both din and yourself. fett, in age old warrior wisdom, can see that din is not himself. this period of mourning must be spent in a place of safety. 

every evening, over dinner, you thank fett. every night, those warm, brown eyes — as deep as warm amber — crinkle just a bit at the edges from your words. he can tell you mean it. if not for your sake, then for din’s. 

tonight, dinner is meager, but you happily inhale the ration aside fennec in the main hall. where dancers once leapt over the rancor pit like stars leaping across the night sky, the lot of you eat. 

din is silent. his jaw tenses when fett spares him a wondering look. between the two mandalorians, nothing is said, yet there are a thousand words. din is quick to finish. you watch has he rises, fetches his helmet, and wipes at his chin.

his footsteps lead far from the hall. 

boba speaks curtly. 

“go to him.”

your mouth is full of quickened bread, throat dry as you swallow down the oats that had been scooped up on the piece. you feel like a prey, pinned in place by fennec and fett. yet, no one is going for your throat. it is, in fact, kindness that’s seeped into their gazes. 

boba’s warm voice is cadenced with a gentle tone. 

“... and happy life day, sweet one.”

you find din alone, out the front gate and staring up at the stars. he’s perched on the edge of the long stone slab that once marked the entrance to the palace — but time and the changing tides of the sand have eroded the mound away, leaving a sharp drop off into the dunes below. there is another dune, to the left, that leads up to the palace now. fennec’s footprints remain from the earlier to trek into town. 

you watch as the wind, gentle and slow, begins to brush them away.

the twin suns are hot, still, despite having retired below the horizon nearly half an hour ago now. the sky is pink and hot red and it paints din all sorts of hues.

the little gift in your back pocket feels heavier than ever now.

“din?”

your voice is met with a grunt.

his head turns, slowly and ever-so owlishly, at the call. you near.

“i have something for you.”

when you settle on the edge, hip touching his, you’re comforted by his silence. it’s the usual sort, not the kind tipped with sorrow. you wonder — hopefully — if that’s your doing. or, maybe, you’ve caught him in a good mood.

“a gift?” he asks. his voice rattles through the vocalizer in his helmet and suddenly you miss the warm sound it carries when dancing off his lips, unburdened by the beskar. 

“it’s... it’s life day,” you say slowly, “or, well. tomorrow is, i suppose.”

“i...” a pause, then his helmet tilts, “i didn’t get you anything.”

you wave his words off, leaning to reach into your back pocket. you smooth your tunic and swing your boots. the little parcel, wrapped childishly in some tawny colored fabric you found laying around, sits in the palm of your hand neatly. 

the bundle, in din’s eyes, says a lot about you — about your feelings towards him. suddenly, with the force of a thousand thrusters, din realizes he hasn’t been very kind to you these last few weeks. he’s been frustrated and upset and angry and sad, so terribly sad, but...

he can see, in the lines below your eyes, that you have been too. 

“here.”

he takes it. and with one hand, reaches up to pull his helmet from his head.

the mop of brown hair is always a surprise. it makes you smile. a dash of happiness that comes as quick as it goes. din barely catches it. he wishes, earnestly, it would stay for longer.

“should i...?”

“go ahead, open it.”

he pulls back the delicately tied fabric, and all at once feels his heartstring snap.

it’s the gear knob. 

that stupid, small, scratched to hell gear knob that the kid was so obsessed with. he’d managed to scrap it from the wreck but... 

you’d gotten a hold of it. and you’d fashioned it into....

well, he isn’t quite sure.

you lean. 

“boba and i were speaking a week or so ago about armor,” you say slowly, “he used to have trophies on his pauldron, but he mentioned that some embellishments can be highly sentimental. so...”

din pulls the knob, and realizes it’s welded to a chain and at the end of the chain lays a clasp. 

“might make some noise, clang around a bit but...”

“thank you.”

his eyes are brown. you hadn’t forgot, but still, the sight makes your heart hammer. his nose is sharp and strong, and his lips are upturned in a delicate sort of smile. you wonder how often that look graces his face. how often does it hide beneath his beskar, like the rest of him?

“it’s not much.”

“it’s everything.”

you make a sad sound then. you lean back on your palms. the sand digs into the pads of your fingers. din’s eyes follow you, and he frowns.

“i haven’t been... i haven’t been there for you,” he says suddenly, already moving to clasp the totem to his armor, “and i’m sorry.”

the knob sways. it glimmers in the setting sun and tinkers against the beskar like a bell. 

“we both lost him, din,” you say tenderly, “i haven’t exactly been ready to accept the fact.”

“i know, but,” he lets out a ragged sigh. his gloved hand reaches up to rub his jaw. to din, the action seems foreign despite being a recent addition to his body language, “we still have one another.”

a beat. a slip of silence.

“and i don’t want to lose you as well.”

the admission is soft.

it’s all you really needed for life day. 

you turn your head, eyes pulled from the setting suns, and find din’s. his face is calm. the sorrow there has retired for now. you touch his cheek gently. the feeling of stubble beneath your fingertips feels different — so different from when you’d touch it with your eyes screwed shut in the belly of the razor crest.

you kiss him. and he kisses you. 

everything is different now, but some things are still the same.

[yostresswritinggirl]

Antinomy

Part 2; things are brewing. VIBE

“Do you know the spiritual meaning of 11? What about in numerology? You’ll find it quite intriguing, funny even… until it starts making sense.” You’ve witnessed and harnessed the way and days he had grown to be; this fic enumerates the trials of the 11th before he became a Harbinger under your care. From strangers to mentor to friends to love- Childe made a grave mistake, now you’re once again strangers.

Pairing -> Childe x Harbinger!Fem!Reader

Word Count -> 5217

Themes -> Friends to admirers, mentor, fluffy, suddenly ANGST

Series -> #Sojourner Specials (600 Followers Event) Part 1

Warning -> Blood and injury

Maybe it was stubbornness, his unhinged desire for the thrill of a fight, or you mistaken misguidance. Many possibilities, really, but Childe knows it had nothing to do with all of those. You're not to blame for his mistakes, but he sure as hell would have to pay for the mess he just created.

vi. fontaine

The show felt like a dance made to lure and trance such audience, and despite his resolve and difference in agendas, the strong Harbinger had been victim to the beauty of the show. Of swaying thin clothes and alluring flicks of the hips.

“We’re not co-workers, we don’t know each other, remember that.”

Tambourines and lyres synced through the performance as men and women alike cheered and stumbled to the songs. The Snezhnayan dancers set the bar high in terms of beauty as the Fatui disguised as performers indulged the crowd in symphony and dance, as if the whole nation was under a mania, no one saw and no one heard. They just followed lead as the agents lulled their own targets into a sense of security and joy.

In the middle of the crowd you lead the choreography as the main dancer, distinguished by the colors of your garb and its grandiosity, yet still respectably covered compared to the other performers. Your main objective was to catch the havoc of a man that left the headquarters of your organization in flames at his wake; and yet, it was instead Childe that was allured to your spell.

An intoxicated man had been eyeing your behind with drooling eyes for a while now, and with the assistance of liquid courage, he reached his hand out to get a feel- when it landed on gray pants of firmness. “Oh my, I didn’t know you swing that way, citizen,” you whipped around to see Childe directly behind you, who was also has his head angled to look behind him where a Fontaine man stumbled back in disgust. His hand clutched to his chest as if it were burned. “Sad news tho, I’m off the table, try someone else maybe.”

Before you can register the edge in his voice, he was already guiding you by the hand back to your dancing stride. You were momentarily stunned but devolved into a glare at his current recklessness, “Come now, Lady Viscaria.” He addressed you by your dancer name. “The whole world is high in the clouds around us, this would be a moment no one will remember.” You didn’t even need to look to know he was right, and you succumbed with a sigh.

Childe didn’t realize just how small your hands are compare to his, the softness of it in contrast to the rough texture of his gloves. If he knew, if only he knew, he would have removed them before you had entertained the idea. Your steps were lithe and your turns were grace manifested, eyes closed yet a gentle smile equipped on your face, the ones you had been wearing ever since you started the performance. “So this is how you fight.” He mumbled with his own grin when he had spun you back against his form, your feet glides against the pavement yet barely touching it as you seemingly floated to place. If he hadn’t known better he would have thought you were an Anemo Vision wielder.

Soon enough the square dissipated to give way to the ferocious dance you two had eased into. Steps became more pointed, arms tensed and strong, and the turns was almost reminiscent of martial arts as you seemingly evade each other’s swings. Suddenly a kick aimed to hit his chest forced him to jump back, and at the other side you dropped your foot, a taunting smirk and a condescending gaze set upon him. His blue eyes widened.

And the elegance of the tango from earlier turned into a vicious round of capoeira, powerful kicks and jumps yet not made to touch each other. Your figure leaped into a crescent kick when he had made a sweep to hit your ankles, him immediately rolling to the side to evade the blow. Dropping to the ground with your ankles and knees bent, a leg outstretched you gasped, and went into a running start towards him, “Lift!” A single command yet he knew what he needed to do.

Gripping your hips upon your leap his strong arms easily eased you high up, your legs were kicked high up and one bent farther back and you steadied yourself by gripping on to his shoulders. The atmosphere turned tense and the only sound you can hear were the ragged breaths you heave up close. And the crowd around then explodes into a round of applause.

Childe seemed to have snapped out of a trance from the foreign noise, breaking the eye contact you both held as he slowly placed you down. There was a sudden bashfulness to him then. But was once again pulled away from his reverie when you quite literally pulled him out of the square into a dark alley, eyes glinting dangerously as a toothy smirk donned your lips, “I saw him, the redhead.”

...

The chains felt sentient. As it flies forward to try and capture him, Childe conjured a wave to sweep it away only for it to change angles to strike at him again. It pierced through the pavement he was once on before it moved to retract back to the owner. At the other side, Childe had a glimpse of your more successful fight with the fugitive as your polearm easily deflected the advances of the chains, even if it gets caught sometimes. Your Cryo Vision would always make quick work of freezing and breaking the chains.

None of you expected a non-elemental fight, and this seemed more complicated of a battle than you would have thought. The man carried with him the aura you feel when you use your delusion, you grimly thought as you ducked out of another barrage, sensing the frustration and desperation of the enemy. You were barely breaking a sweat, you’d see his red eyes take notice, and you weren’t even using both of your hands to fight. With another smirk, your Vision then glowed by your side as you raised your arm. The hooded man braced for impact, but instead he felt a force hit his lower half- water current from Childe, and suddenly it solidified to ice upon your avalanche. His hand where the strange device were also covered to render him useless.

An arrow and a spear’s tip was now aimed to his heart. “Well, well, that was a nice fight, Ragnvindr,” you leaned down close enough to see the finer details of his hawk mask, you saw his eyes squint into a glare. He knows he lost. By your side Childe relaxed his arms and dematerialized his bow, the next part should be yours to work on. “Thank you for your dedication, but this atrocity ends now.” You straightened your back and took a step back, angling your spear to his throat. As his eyes close to succumb to death, your head would angle itself slightly to see Childe’s reaction

when a golden flicker appeared past his shoulder.

“CHILDE!” The devil himself felt the air leave his lungs at the force that punched at his chest, enough to immobilize him as he was punted to the ground. Before he could even recover, the pavement around shifted and crumbled to create a wall between him and the frozen Diluc. He heard the ice breaking and two pairs of feet scrambling away. “Fuck, he had an accomplice,” he breathed as he took his stand, about to give chase to the escapees. That is until he registered his mentor-

barely standing with a stalagmite pierced through her stomach.

“Chi...lde.” You gripped the pointed tip of the structure to keep yourself up as your legs started to lose feeling. He was there hovering over you, unsure where to touch or how to assist. Fuck. Fuck. This was his fault. “Go... chase, I’ll be- I’ll be fine...”

And then you blacked out.

vii. seven correspondence

There were multiple parchment of the same color littering his office desk filled with different lengths of paragraphs. Childe's quarters in the palace was cozy and wide, and nothing could be heard but the sound of his fountain pen scratching the surface of the paper with ease.

"Letters are important in Snezhnaya," you perked up from your unfocused gaze from his window, where you silently watched the brewing blizzard manifesting outside. Your eyes made contact with his genuinely gentle ones that still lingered at the task at hand, "why not write one?"

"Letters are commonplace in Snezhnaya," you corrected as you made your way to his side to snoop in his letters. He did not seem to mind. After all you'd pretty much already the whole of his family that one awkward encounter. He was working on the seventh letter and your eyes lingered around the six finished ones: there was one for each younger siblings, one meant for the two older brothers, another for the older sister, and one for his parents. "It's not necessary for me to write, I don't have an address in mind to begin with."

Is that so, he mumbled under his breath before the conversation died down once again to little scratches. A lot of his words had tales to tell about his stay in Fontaine, you realized the most details were poured into the contents for his parents. At the mention of this nation, your hand ghosts over your stomach.

The bandages from long ago had already been dispatched. And yet the stiffness of it has still affected your composure as well as the weird pull of the skin from the stitches. Only a nasty scar was left in its wake to remind you of the failed encounter and it forced you to make drastic wardrobe changes to your performing attire.

You saw Childe's shoulders slightly tense at your action.

"Childe," his grip on the pen tightened yet he kept his head down. You didn't mind. His mind was going overdrive again, probably. "Who are you writing that last letter for?"

He felt like he'd dodged an arrow over the way he had relaxed, slumped down even when he met eyes with better resolution within it. "It's for a special someone," his signature smile was back, "I've met her long ago and I've always made sure to send her a letter yearly as thanks."

Thanks? "Thanks?" The letter (it was short, you realized) was already folded before you could peek at the words within. You knew Childe was good-looking, but for him to have a girlfriend waiting for years as he drowns in his work, quite irrational and yet painful. Painful... to you?

"I've met a girl back when I was 14," he was suddenly up and bustling as he bundled up his letters. Urgent you followed to listen to his tale as best as you can with his long legs. "I never knew her name or her face, but she saved me from the wolves back in Morepesok. I never properly gave her my thanks, so yearly I would leave letters at the woods where she'd gone, and hope that she'll be able to read them and know that I lived because of her." You already halted your advances to chase after him as you stood before the doors of the Palace. He didn't seem to mind, he kept going until he was gone.

...Morepesok was a seaside fishing village with a vast white forest by the edges in which ferocious wolves and bears usually haunt. After your promotion to the Palace, you had never once set foot in the village, much less the woodland. Where you are right now.

You held a steady hand against your stomach as you retraced the familiar route you'd gone, something so far away you would have expected to forget it by now. That was six years ago, you counted as you reached the clearing in horror of its emptiness, there should be six letters here by now.

A snapping twig had you whirling to look behind you. "So, it really was you." His gentle blue orbs had met your widened ones, breathless you both were, but for different reasons.

"So you lied about the letters," the mocking pout on your lips had made him laugh. A sprinkle of red dusts his cheeks, and he was quick to hide it with the familiar letter on his hand.

"I didn't lie about this one," your upturned palms received the crispy envelope, carefully opening the seal and unfolding its contents, "I wanted to make sure I was right."

'Your sacrifice had given me a new chance, a new life, a new beginning. I wish I was there to thank you for protecting me, but this time, I will get stronger and make sure-'

"I'll be the one protecting you from now on." He finished, and the red dust over your own cheeks felt like torches made to melt the mightiest icicles.

viii. fleeting glances

Signora had always been the type of person to only make appearances when necessary, but most of her dirty work were done by her subordinates, her own little army. She's the coordinator and observer at the back as things were weaved into place for her. Like a flower on the wall, the Fair Lady knows and notices details.

The first one was by the entrance, the second was by the veranda. The third, fourth and fifth were by the hallways. The sixth was by the throne room. The seventh was outside. And the eight was that in front of her—

Childe disliked being in the same area or even breathing space as her, this much Signora knew. He was a kid still under training over the ways of the Fatui, but there was nothing more he hated than the way the Fair Lady handles her work, her soldiers. But it came with the aesthetic, and he had no other means to pry until he had finally grasped the way the cogs turn in this organization known as the Fatui.

The youngest Harbinger never looked her directly in the eye or even dare spare her the glance when it was not needed. And in all honesty, it was quite bothersome the first few times. After all, Tartaglia carried with him a certain charm.

His eyes would either narrow or be guarded for any other Harbinger that comes his way, respectful or dismissive, the options fleet through those whenever. But there was one humane and warm look he gives at special occasions, for a special someone, and Signora finally witnessed it in full view and detail—

The crease between his eyebrows would immediately ease as his eyes break free from its squinted, slanted form. The dark depths at the middle would dilate as his expression quirks up, teeth usually visible through parted lips as he dons an easy smile. And Signora would be taken aback by the immediate change as she follows the trail of his stare.

The gold was the first to strike with the way the trinkets hang by the waist, and the warm and mellow colors so contrary to the Fatui colors draws away the unease of onlookers. It was to make sure that no association with the Fatui would be made, that was your calculated explanation was upon your choice of 'uniform.' You've just came from a short trip to Natlan to gather all data to be reported to the Tsaritsa, and during that time the 11th had been under no one's particular care.

You passed by their forms (pass is a strong word, they were off to the far side, honestly) with your report in hand, humming to yourself as you continued your way to the throne room. That demeanor only means that you had good news to tell, good news for everyone.

The glance was gone fast as the moment ended, and his hard look came albeit much lighter this time. But the way Signora smirked signified she'd noticed, and his look only grew stiffer.

"Come now, pretty boy, show that look often."

The Fair Lady's laugh echoed inside the Palace walls as Tartaglia stomps off to where you had gone, to wait after the dusk convention respectfully.

ix. years of employment

Of the many milestones that could have been celebrated, it was done in an odd number at the most peculiar time. Yes, it is no surprise for everyone to know that you had been working for the Fatui for nine whole years now. And honestly, you shouldn't have been surprised that your younger colleague with the weird ways of his Abyss-induced brains, decided that it was time your anniversary be celebrated instead of waiting another year for the double digits mark.

"Please tell me we're not going to your house again," you softly pleaded as Childe continued to guide you through the paths in the main city of Snezhnaya. "As much as I appreciate their caring atmosphere, I'm not too keen on the idea of pretending to be the head honcho of the toy-selling company of Snezhnaya."

To this, Childe guffawed to a boisterous laugh, pulling his hand away from your back to clutch at his convulsing stomach. You pursed your lips in distaste of his reaction, but then it would loosen up to a smile as you watched him still try to catch his breathe.

After that, the trip had continued with only small chatter in between as you descended further to the edges of the city. You haven't been to this area, simply because of the fact that there were no patrols needed around the cityless wasteland where you are headed, and the glint of surprise had fixed a knot at Childe's back. Relief painted his face.

And you found yourself in front of a frozen lake, with hanging lights decorating the leafless trees by it, and a small table filled to the brim with food. "Lady toyseller!" You shot a glare at your student who averted his gaze away easily to focus on his other siblings. This heretic lied—

"Big brother said it's a special occasion! To commemorate your anniversaries for being in the toyselling business!" Your glare died down to a look of confusion, and the family gathered back into a homely atmosphere. So it seems that Childe coincidentally joined the Fatui the same day as you, two years apart. And he said nothing about it.

"We've been celebrating since the last three years, if we had known, you could have been with us!" And with that you were pulled in by Tonia to the table where her mother was, congratulating you for your hardwork and patience as she offers you to taste some of the food they had brought for the picnic.

"I know you've been helping my son ever since he became a Harbinger," you looked up to Childe's mother in wonder as your mouth was currently stuffed with her delicious homemade Pelmeni. She gave a light laugh at the sight of your wide, curious eyes paired with stuffed cheeks. "Childe mentioned how you saved him when he ran away from him..." and the mother continued to spill the details you were never given the chance to hear from the man himself.

You suppose this was the cause of your perfectly crafted aura of trust, to lure in your targets and make them spill to their heart's contents as you indulge them. In the end, Childe's mother's true intention was to thank you for all that you had done for her son, and to help him cultivate into the best person he could be among the ranks of the Harbinger. You gulped the last bits of the dumpling, a shy smile placated on your cheek, "It is my honor to take him under my wing."

"Hey, master, I sure hope mum didn't say anything embarrassing about me while I was gone!" A hand holding a tissue softly wiped the cream at the edge of your lips as Childe- Ajax finally made his way over to your table.

"It's okay, really, it's normal for children to pee their bed." You mused as Childe's mother laughed at the way her son choked over his own spit. Ah, you were right.

The rest of the day was filled with ice-skating, something you have forgotten, clumsily held up by the three younger siblings as they expertly excelled in the field. And right after was a session of ice fishing with their father, who was greatly impressed by your strength upon reeling the 50-centimeter long tuna. Flopping on to the ice platform as if to chase the children on land.

"Don't want to stay? There's a spare room here, you can borrow my big sister's clothes for the night. It's a long way back to the Palace," he stood next to you outside the entrance of his home while you face the other direction.

You sighed. "Tartaglia, I'm your mentor. And as the 10th Harbinger, your ascension should be my priority." You didn't see the way his jaw clenched at the intonations of your words. "If it were a different circumstance-"

"Next week," the snow caught on to your lashes as you closed your eyes, basking at the cold that bites at your cheeks. "Will be my last try. And after that, please see me as your equal."

"Alright." Your hands trembled.

x. final spar

Fatuus lined the veranda surrounding the quadrangle in quiet anticipation, skirmishers and agents alike that had yet to be assigned under Harbinger supervision and even those who just had nothing better to do.

Childe had anticipated the spotlight, but it was a greater scale he was not comfortable on. He was lucky a Harbinger had yet to watch the spar, the last spar as he had promised, and it seemed the gossip had spread enough to alert the whole organization. The Delusion mask sat by the side of his hair as he watched you at the other end of the field.

Your eyes held no emotion as they stared through his soul. A different kind of emotion he'd have wanted to see. He thinks to himself at the thought of you once being in the same predicament as him, did you feel the same fear and worry as he did? Did it take you ten tries? Maybe more, maybe less?

Tartaglia said this will be the last spar, and the final chance for both sides to make it a fair fight (to give it their all). But when you suddenly disappeared and materialized above him with your spear ready to strike, he thought, maybe not this time either.

The spear collided with the dirt floor as blades of winds seem to have exploded from it, a series of gasps resounding through the crowd as they stepped away from the edge. Tartaglia softly landed back on his feet after the successful somersault, materializing his water polearm to strike his elemental slash from the distance. But you stood still, unscathed as the wave that was meant to slice you turned into ice before it could come any closer. Fuck, Tartaglia knew his Vision was weak to yours.

You charged at him once again with the boost of your Anemo delusion, your polearms clashing painfully as you both tried to get hits on each other. There was a nick at this cheek to draw the first blood, your dominant hand twirling the spear easily Tartaglia retreats back to avoid the wildly spinning blade.

Soon enough he dons his own mask and the real fight begins. Electric currents ran through the field as an icy fog starts to envelop the floor, superconduct reaction running the parameter of the field as the Fatuus back away further. The next time your blades meet, a crackle of lightning resounded through the whole palace. Smacking his blades upward, your spear quickly sweeps down to swipe at this ankles, forcing him to leap as the fog obscures the reach of your polearm. Mid-air, he was kicked on the chest as your acrobatic arms held you up and over.

Soon enough his hunger for victory begins to manifest, and his biggest advantage comes into play: overwhelming strength.

Tartaglia felt huge triumph when you finally used both of your hands to parry his blows, your feet sometimes sinking into the dirt floor under the pressure of his attack. For the first time in the fight, your facade cracked with a grimace as you held your polearm up against his dual blades. Quickly leaning away, you brought your foot up and pushed at the spear's shaft, enough to force him back as you leaped out of his range. There was sweat trickling at the back of your neck now, feeling the sizzle of the current on the slight moisture. You swiped your spear in a crescent motion as a snow avalanche bombarded Tartaglia's side when he tried to approach, giving you just enough time to breathe as he tries to free himself under the snow.

By the time he's set himself free, you were already running forwards with your hands gripping your spear at your right for a swiping motion. He fashions his dual blades as he too sprinted in the middle to clash, weapons encased with frost and electricity. In a split second, his arms raised to your left, knowing this was your non-dominant side would make it easy to send you flying at the angle of approach. A powerful blow against another was about to shake the whole Palace—

"Columbina!" The vagrant's voice pierced through the crackle of elements, and Tartaglia's eyes widened when he had noticed your foot slip at the distraction. The inertia of his arms unable to stop the course of action; superconduct and electro-charged reactions creating a powerful explosion as the iced fog seem to have imploded from the force.

Childe's moist hands trembled as his vision tries to refocus. There's a ringing in his ears as he tries to grip at his hands, the electricity coursing through his nerves to make it numb. He desperately closed and opened his fists, and when he finally settled his sights straight, the dripping red liquid had splattered all the way to his mask and arms. With hesitation his sights followed the trail of blood and frost splayed across the field barely visible as the mist still covered the floor with a thin veil, his steps halted at the sound of glass crunching underneath his shoes, and he didn't need to look to know what it was.

"GET THE MEDIC NOW, PREPARE THE INTENSIVE CARE UNIT!" Pedrelino's voice reverbed through the field as the few agents that finally recovered from the shock went into emergency actions, some running off and some running to the direction of where the blood trail ends.

There was an obvious pool of blood forming under you, as your whole torso was littered with the same redness. Your left ribcage was angled inwards in an anomalous way as the dual blades had logged itself in between the ribs. You were already unconscious as blood dripped from the side of your lips;

how unfortunate, Childe collapsed to his knees in front of you. You didn't get to congratulate him.

xi. eleventh of the fatui harbinger

His mission had been explained to him concisely and accurately alongside Signora's assignment right after he had been acknowledged as officially part of the Fatui. The throne room had itself full of the Harbingers (with a glaring absence of one) as the Tsaritsa empowered him with her will and concise plan, the gravity of the law and order of the universe and its incoming divine war finally weighing on his shoulders. It was, after all, his wish to end the ministrations of being under someone's supervision and finally walk his path of conquering.

A month after the fight had him standing by the piers of the Snezhnayan ocean. Here he will finally depart to Liyue where his true mission lays, as well as the franchise of the Northland Bank he'd have to oversee. The influx of information for both his and the other's works had his head reeling, pleading silently at the hope that you'd be there to reassure and clarify what exactly he needs to do.

But you're not. In fact, Childe hasn't seen you in the whole month after that fight. He was prohibited from approaching your ward as you were still unstable and fragile to risk; no, everyone was not allowed to enter, he assured himself. He had not seen nor heard you throughout the grieving process of a moment he should have been proud to boast.

During that time, Childe had also adamantly avoided Scaramouche.

He heaved a tired sigh as the consequences weighed his resolve once again, were you still unconscious? Are you still in critical condition or are you recovering? If things ended ever so differently, would you be there next to him to wave him off to his first major assignment? "Liyue, huh, that's a pretty nice nation."

Childe produced a strangled noise when he turned to his right, where you stood, watching the ocean horizon. Your hair was slightly disheveled yet framed your face naturally. There were bandages wrapped all over your torso, peeking out from the sleeves of your unusually covered attire, and your left arm settled on a sling meant to lessen the constraints of your side instead of sporting an actual broken limb. When Childe's calculating gaze settled on your face, you had a calm expression.

"Congratulations, you're finally on your way to your first mission."

"Thank you, although I heard it's quite different from what I'm used to. Besides seafood, too many new customs."

You produced a soft gasp as your eyes widened slightly. Childe stood guard, waiting for you to tell him what was wrong. "I'm a failure of a mentor," what. His eyes watched as you turned to face him (as he did) with an amused glint in your eyes paired by a light smirk. "I didn't get to teach you how to use chopsticks."

His face dropped into a deadpan, before you two harmonized into bouts of varying laughter. Your other hand placed itself on your chest to minimize the vibrations of your giggles, not wanting to put pain into yourself. A flash of hurt recognition passed through his eyes.

"Master, I'm so-"

"(Y/N)." You immediately interjected as you gazed at him past your eyelashes. His breath hitches.

"Ah, (Y/N)," you nodded at his experimental taste of your name and urged him to continue. He opens his mouth before closing it again, a silent debate within the depths of his brain, before his lips parted with a different thought. "Teach me when I come back, please?"

Your eyes widen in surprise and amusement, "I'm sure you'd pick it up easily."

You're not wrong, but he's adamant. "Nah, I'm sure I wouldn't, I heard they're really a handful. I'd rather wait for you."

Giggling again, you raised your mobile hand as he did own, exchanging the most genuine smile. "Okay, pinky promise?"

"Pinky promise."

I wrote this for two hours straight to the point that my left arm doesn't work anymore....

@moaa @kookieyachi @zelos-simp @legionqueensav @dandelion-dreams @snackgod @rxsalinee

[dont-touch-my-soup]

Mercy never comes for free

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A few days after Kell arrived at the Crystal Theatre. His facade may or may not slowly crumble.

CW: slavery, captivity, forced to perform

The girls were dancing in perfect synchrony and Kell couldn’t help but staring at them. They moved gracefully, their technic flawless and their synchrony on point. It was breath-taking and beautiful.

For a second Kell forgot why he was here. He nearly even forgot about his hand still hurting like hell despite the pain killers and the sling in which his arm rested.

The dancers leaped into the air as one and spun a complete circuit. Kell had never seen such dance moves before.

But despite all its beauty it lacked something, Kell couldn’t pin down.

“They are good, right”, Oryn commented proudly grinning. Possessively. As if the credit belonged to him.

“I have never seen someone dance like this”, Kell said quietly.

He couldn’t take his eyes from them.

“I only get the best”, Oryn said spreading his arms. “Dancers, singers and actors from all around Tharlia. I even have some aerial acrobats and figure skaters for a special winter show. But that is still a secret.” He put a finger on his lips, as if Kell knew anyone to tell.  

Suddenly one of the girls tripped.

A women rushed over and for a second Kell thought she would help the girl up but then he saw her lifting her arm and slapping her with a force that knocked the girl over.

Kell intuitively made a step into their direction but a hand on his arm stopped him short.

“Don’t”, a low voice said.

Kell looked back at Oryn.

“You will keep in line and do as I say. Your hero complex is endearing but I don’t want to see it in my theatre ever again. If you help someone, I will punish them twice. Do you understand?”

Kell wiggled in his grip. “You promised not to hurt me”, Kell said. He glared at him and Oryn gave his arm a warning squish.

“I want you to keep one thing in mind, darling: mercy never comes for free.” He shoved Kell in the opposite direction. “Just because I promised you no harm, doesn’t mean I won’t hurt anyone else.”

Anger flooded Kell’s veins. Oryn had found his weak spot pretty fast. It had taken the General weeks until he found out he could make Kell do anything if he hurt another Tharlian.

“Does this conversely mean if I do everything you want, you will do something nice for them?”

Oryn starred down on him, his face didn’t change, and his voice stayed neutral. “We will see.”

Behind Kell he could still hear sharp voices and stifled whimpers.

“Now, sing, little bird.” Oryn sat down and looked at him expectingly. Everything in the theatre belonged to him. Even the performers. Even Kell.

He enjoyed his power. It radiated from him. It was disgusting.

He looked like a king on his throne when all he was was a thief and his throne built on crimes.

Kell wanted to tell him exactly what he thought, but he knew he couldn’t. Words had always been his only weapon when they took everything else from him. Now Oryn had taken even those.

A snap of his fingers interrupted Kell’s thoughts.

“I don’t want to repeat myself”, Oryn said impatiently.

Kell swallowed. He could still see the dancers at the other side of the hall. He wondered if they would hear him from that far away.

He closed his eyes. He exhaled and inhaled. He tried not to think about them. He tried not to think about the Varsennan. He took another deep breath. Then he started to sing. In the beginning his voice was small and still a little hoarse. It has been a while since he had sung last. But he soon got lost in the song. It was a Tharlian ballad and Kell had always thought it to be comforting. He hoped it could maybe bring the dancer comfort too. It had been one of his mother’s favourite songs. It had never failed to make her smile. Even in the dark days, when they had to leave everything behind and move to her sister. Kell wished he could sing loud enough, that she could hear it wherever she was. He just hoped she was still alive.

Slow clapping yanked him out of his thoughts. His eyes snapped open. He was almost glad Oryn had yanked him out of his thought. He couldn’t think of the past. It was a dangerous spiral into pain, and he did not have the luxury to appear vulnerable.

Oryn stood up. “That was beautiful”, he said. “I think you will do a brilliant job on the stage.”

“Well, I’m done. Can I go now?”, Kell said.

Oryn came closer and grabbed Kell’s arm so hard it hurt. “But if you sing another Tharlian word ever again, you will regret it.”

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Tag List: @whumpzone @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @whump-cravings @ @tears-and-lilies

[byulsgrease]

Duly Noted (2)

(moonbyul x gender neutral reader, trainee/idol!au, soulmate!au, ~1.2k words)

[previous]

Another day, you think, staring up at the front of the company building before heading in. There's a small crowd of trainees clogging the hall the second you step in. What are they staring at? A collective bunch of hands point fingers at papers on the wall. Spotting Hyejin in the crowd, she waves you over.

"They're piloting groups again." That explains the crowd. "You lucked out with yours. Try not to lose it," playfully jabbing an elbow in your side before strutting away to the practice room she's been assigned.

"Ow, what are you tal—" you start to call after her until finding your name. Moon Byulyi and Kang Seulgi's names sit just above yours. Oh. Your heart instantly leaps to your throat, the hell? How'd you get placed with the best vocalist and dancer in your cohort? Byulyi's sweet, always waving hi when seeing you around or sneaking you the occasional forbidden snack. She does this with everyone though, and of course has unintentionally managed to get every other trainee to pine after her and her charisma— yourself included. Seulgi's one of Byulyi's close friends, and while you've never spoken, she has that duality and professionalism when performing that most trainees absolutely idolize. It'd be a dream to debut with either of them and it's a good sign that you're getting tested together, but nothing guaranteed. Everything that happens here is a constant reminder that nothing is, at least in this stage of your career, if you can even call it that.

But it sucks you're not with Hyejin, who's been in this with you since the beginning. But you've tested together before, maybe the company didn't care for it. Scanning the lists to find her group, the only name you vaguely recognize besides hers is Jung Wheein. Wheein's pretty shy and keeps to herself from your limited interactions with her. She's been here training a bit longer than you, but not by much. Attempts at recalling her ability to dance and sing come up blank, probably from your concerted effort over the years to stop caring so much about how other people are performing. The comparison game is really just that, a game. The only person's actions you can control are your own, solely responsible for your own skills and their development. You take one last look at the sheets before turning on your heel and heading to your assigned practice room.

~~~~

Practice actually goes off without a hitch. Granted you're grouped with some of the best, but it's obvious that you're the weakest link. Byulyi and Seulgi are nice enough about it though, giving you pointers and being patient when it takes you a little longer to figure out choreo. You also might be half a beat behind in part because it's hard not to stare at Byulyi. In what other instance will you get to witness her singing and dancing up close? Well... if we debut... No, no. There's no room for wishful thinking here. Keep expectations low and be pleasantly surprised if they're ever surpassed. It's less soul-crushing that way.

How do crushes work with soulmates? Supposedly some people choose to date before, get around before they find "the one". Some people just wait it out. You've even heard of stories of people who disregarded their notebooks altogether, claiming it was possible to find love without the whole soulmate thing. Supposedly there's also people who have blank left pages for whatever reason. Notebooks are generally a pretty private affair, since randomly showing someone always brings the chance of finding each other, but it's difficult not to wonder sometimes...

Her voice pulls you out of the rare existential soulmate spiral.

"Hey, you good?" Good thing she's not telepathic. It's just the two of you left in the studio packing up, Seulgi had to dash off somewhere right after practice ended.

"Yeah... yeah," you say, realizing it sounds like you're trying to self-assure. "I think I'm just nervous about this eval, don't wanna mess with group synergy by falling behind," you tack on hurriedly, teeth unconsciously gnawing on your lip. You're not usually this nervous and definitely don't normally openly admit your lack of confidence— it's literally just because of Byulyi. Get it together.

"Ahh, don't worry. It's not like you're at risk of getting booted. You've been here too long for the company to do that," she assures while putting a hand on your shoulder, making eye contact with in the studio mirror. Your face burns from the implicit praise.

"Speak for yourself!"

"Exactly, it's why I just try to have fun. I mean, I get that it's a lot of pressure and stuff, but by now it's all the same. Sometimes I feel like this is kind of as good as it's gonna get, ya know?" she asks, removing her hand to lace both of them behind her neck in a stretch, leaving you wishing she'd keep a hand on you. Rather surprising, hearing her talk like this. Maybe it's a sign that training for longer doesn't necessarily mean more confidence. Train for too long and it's becomes a question of whether you've plateaued, or worse, peaked before you even reach a debut-worthy level.

"Yeah, I get what you mean," returning the sentiment. "But you've been here for longer, so I can't really say anything."

"We're all in this together, aren't we? Or well... kinda," she chuckles half-heartedly.

"It's good to see that they're piloting us again, maybe they're making a new group?" She nods pensively with an affirmative hum.

"I'm just not the biggest fan of the mind games. But I guess that's what we signed up for, huh?" she huffs with a shrug, walking over to her bag to pack up.

"Yeah. It is what it is," you reply, unsure of what else to say while walking to the stereo to loop the song one more time. Byulyi heads for the door, but stops in the doorway and turns.

"Hey, don't stay up too late. And remember to have fun while you're at it— makes the grind seem less terrible," she says with care. "Oh, forgot I have these, here's some fuel," suddenly tossing you a tiny bag of chips that your hands fumble with but luckily don't drop. Her goodbye rings out as she walks out the door and down the hall.

Taking the time to look down at the bag in your hands, they're your favorites. How did she know? You've never told her they were, unless she was just really observant that one time a few months ago when she happened to give you the same ones?

Pressing play on your phone to run through the choreo once more, you make a mental note to check your notebook later, vaguely remembering writing about the chips the very first time you had them because they were truly that good.

It’s surely pure coincidence. Hoping that it’s anything more intentional than that is unfounded wishful thinking, right?

[next]

[storiesofsvu]

Kathy Stabler Couple’s HC’s

*not my image* i don’t remember who asked for this and it’s not in my inbox anymore…. @enduringalexblake was it you?

Gives nose/forehead kisses

It’s normally you, especially the nose ones. You always want to reassure Kathy that she’s loved, appreciated and beautiful. She finds the nose kisses absolutely adorable and loves when you do it. She’s more of a forehead kisser when it comes to the little soft moments for you.

Gets jealous the most

It’s not really jealousy, but Kathy worries more. You’re younger, she’s been through hell and back with Elliot, she’s seen her kids get hurt in various relationships and while she knows you love her, she does worry about things like that happening between you. You can sense this most of the time, promptly returning to her side and peppering her with kisses while you shower her with love.

Picks the other up from the bar when they’re too drunk

Usually Kathy. There are definitely days when you’re out drinking and indulging at little bit too much, occasionally you’re out with Maureen downing too many cocktails bonding with her and drunk texting Kathy the entire time. She can usually tell when you’re about to hit your limit and shows up at the bar at the perfect time to take you home, laughing at the way you leap into her arms shrieking about how much you love her.

Takes care of on sick days

Whenever either of you are sick you take care of each other. But Kathy being a mom of five knows everything there is to know about taking care of sick people. She can sense it before you even realize it’s coming. When it’s just a cold, you’ll try to push through, but she’ll sneak in extra fluids, soup, pedialyte and the like without you noticing. When it’s actually the flu she’s the one feeling your forehead, handing you saltines and glasses of tea between spouts of puking, softly rubbing your back and telling you it’s going to be okay.

Drags the other person into the water on a beach day

You. Kathy’s happy to sit in the sand and enjoy the sun, watching the other beach goers, but once you pout to her, asking her please, she can’t say no to you, and ends up in the water on a floaty, having the time of her life with her love by her side.

Gives unprompted massages

Kathy. She knows how stressful days can get, it’s usually while she’s waiting for dinner to finish, her hands gently breaking the knots deep into you’re neck and shoulders while she presses gentle kisses into your skin. You’ll usually repay her later while you’re watching t.v, massaging out her hands/wrists/calves from long days at work.

Who drives? Who rides shotgun?

Usually you drive. But it’s more that she’s sick of driving, five kids and countless parent teacher interviews, soccer games, dance recitals and the works, she’s thankful to have someone else to take them wheel when the two of you get to go out together.

Brings the other lunch at work

It’s usually Kathy. She knows how busy things can get and she wants to make sure that you know you’re loved and appreciated. Though (don’t at me if I’m wrong, I believe she’s a nurse?) you have been known to stop in at the hospital and drop off something home cooked and delicious to let her have a few moments of peace during her hectic day.

Has the better parental relationship I’ve gotta say you. I’m going with the hc that you’re younger than she is. Kathy also has to deal with the fact that her parents are probably still not over the whole divorcing Elliot thing, and maybe not as supportive of a same sex relationship, but she loves you and won’t let any outside pressure dismantle your relationship.

Tries to start roleplaying in the bedroom

I don’t think either of you do. It’s not about role playing, it’s about love, affection, being soft and gentle, exploring each other’s bodies and making the other person feel the absolute best you can.

Embarrassingly drunk dancer

It’s a combination of both, but it’s usually you. Though it’s always in the confines of your home and honestly, what starts out as embarrassing dancing turns into soft slow dancing, arms wrapped around each other, loving smiles on your cheeks as you pepper each other with kisses and love.

Still cries watching titanic

Kathy. The movie has never really gotten to you, but she loves it and you’re not about to deny her her guilty pleasures. You’ll laugh it off, snuggling her into your arms as she cries it out.

Firmly believes in couples costumes

It’s a combination, but the grown up kids are the ones who put a complete stop to it, not wanting to be embarrassed by it.

Breaks the expensive gift rule during Christmas

You. You want Kathy to feel the love and appreciation that she truly deserves. She’s always baffled by the things you manage to get her, each and every one of them something incredibly intimate to her that she loves so much.

Makes the other eat breakfast

Kathy. She’s used to cooking breakfast for a large family, it’s simply her instinct (and tbh Eli’s still probably around) so she’s always up earlier than you, cooking an array of pancakes/waffles, bacon, eggs, fruit and the like, she’s always got everything you could ever want as you sleepily stumble down the stairs, wrapping yourself around her frame, nuzzling into her neck as you pepper her with kisses in thanks for the food.

Remembers anniversary

Both of you. You never forget., always eager to spend a day showering the other one with love

Brings up having kids

Kathy does first, it’s a hesitant question, her insecurities wondering if you’ll be happy and satisfied without having your own kids, but she’s more than done having her own. You smile softly, pressing a tender kiss to her lips as you remind her that you love her, and that’s all you need to be happy in life. You only need her, and your found family of her kids to be loved.

[make-me-imagine]

Red Roses: “I Love You” - Clint Barton Ending

Valentines Special: Day Nine

Day One: Morning Glories  //  Day Two: Blue Salvias Day Three: Sunflowers  //  Day Four: Pink Camellias Day Five: Yellow Tulips   // Day Six: Violets Day Seven: Lisianthus  //  Day Eight: Daffodils (Post with rest of the character endings)

Plot: It’s finally Valentines Day, the day the reader will finally learn who it is that had been leaving them flowers and notes expressing their secret feelings.

Pairing: Gen!Neutral Reader x Clint Barton

Triggers: Mention of gunfire/violence (very brief)       

Words: 1,678 

Requested Taglist: @aquariuslavenderhoney​​, @thebookbakery​​, @fablesrose​​, @kitkatd7​​, @thefallenbibliophilequote​​, @beksib​​, @destynelseclipsa​​, @criminaly-supernatural​​, @tammythompson-singslikea-muppet, @belloangelus​​, @snarky--starky​​, @saintbootlegloras​​, @wecallhimbrowneyess​​, @empath-bunny​​, @okkulta​​, @katinthemoon,  @ravennight41​​, @youcancallme-rae , @radhumandragonclam, @unfortunateidiotinadilemma, @past3l-w1ngs​​ ,  @goinggoinggonzo​​, @mxxnmocha​​, @theofficialzivadavid​​, @fred-deeks-ben​​

February 14th

You ducked down behind the car as one of the assailants fired his gun at you, peaking out after hearing a grunt followed by a thud, you see him lying on the ground, stun-arrow stuck to his back. Your eyes dart to where the arrow came from as Clint and Natasha came out of the building. 

“Took you guys long enough!” you yelled as you threw a stun grenade into the building where you heard men coming from to chase after you “What happened you get lost?” you quipped as you all began running back to the car.

“Whats your hurry, got somewhere to go?” Clint asked eyeing you with a smile as you all jumped into the cars. 

“Maybe I do, what’s it matter to you?” you asked as you caught the hard drive Natasha tossed you. Unseen by you, Natasha and Clint shared an amused look as you all caught your breath.

You had suddenly been sent on this mission this morning when you found out that two home-terror groups were sharing dangerous information and SHIELD secrets. Finding out about a drop of the hard drive you were sent to retrieve it. 

“I never knew you to be interested in any of Tony’s parties.” Natasha said.

“I’m not” you replied simply as you plugged the hard drive into a computer. 

“Why not? Should be fun.” Clint said.

You remained silent as you began hacking the hard drive, ignoring Clint’s comment, but unable to ignore the heavy beating of your heart. 

After getting back to the SHIELD office you were heading back to the tower, Natasha fell into step beside you “So, are you excited about tonight?”

You glanced at her quickly “I don’t know.” you said truthfully. You had told her about what tonight would bring, the truth about your admirer. You hadn’t told Clint, because, well, you wanted it to be him more than any of the others, and you were afraid that talking to him about it, would make it too obvious, or maybe he would be to obvious about it not being him. 

“I’m sure it’ll be fine” she said, as if to console you.

Entering into the tower, you see various Valentines decorations littering the front entrance all the way to the elevator. You and Natasha stopped as you looked around, none of it had been there when you left. Feeling a presence behind you, you realized Clint had entered.

“Wow. Looks like Cupid threw up in here.” he joked before brushing past you.

You and Natasha smiled as you followed behind him, all three of you had to rush to get ready, the party was starting in about an hour and you were sure you all looked like hell after having a firefight. 

- - -

After quickly taking a shower, and getting ready, you sat on the edge of your bed as you slipped on your shoes. Taking the silent moment to really think about what might happen in the coming evening. 

You tried your best to be accepting of the fact that it could be any of the others who might confess to you tonight, and you tried convincing yourself that you would be alright with it being any of them. And in a way you were. 

But, thinking more about it being Clint, made you feel more excited and hopeful that it being any of the others. And thinking about it, not, being Clint, made you the most disappointed. You had known each other for years, he is the reason you became an Avenger in the first place. He knows almost everything about you, and you about him. He makes you comfortable, he makes you smile, laugh, and he makes you feel safe. 

Looking over at your desk, your eyes land on a series of photo booth photos of you and Clint you had pinned up. You went undercover as a couple once a few years back and took them. It ended up being one of the funnest nights of your life, even through the spying and fighting. He had a matching set of photos tucked away also, his favorite of them all, torn off and placed safely in his wallet. But this, you didn’t know.

Checking the clock, you take a breath as you stood and left your room, the party had begun. Once you got to the party you were a bit intimidated with how many people had already shown up. ‘How many people did Tony invite?’ you thought to yourself as you scanned the room.

You jumped slightly when an arm slipped through your own. Looking over you see Natasha by your side as she looked around the room too “I don’t even know who have of these people are. And that’s impressive for being a spy.” You smiled at her comment, feeling comforted by her presence as you both walked further into the room.  

The first hour of the party seemed to go by quickly as you spent most of it greeting and chatting with some of the guests, per Tony’s request. Walking away from a particularly perverse man, you rolled your eyes as you walked into the other room, someone falling into step beside you. 

“Someone certainly pissed you off.”

You turned to look at Clint with a look of disdain “If I had to hear one more suggestion about what would make my superhero costume look “better” I was going to deck him.”

Clint snorted as he took a sip of his drink before setting it on an empty tray in a waiters hand. Reaching out his hand he looked at you “Dance?”

You looked from him and into the crowded room of slow-dancers, you hesitated “Ehh, I don’t know, you know I’m not much of a-”

“Oh come on” he smiled as he took your hand in his and all but dragged you further into the room. As he brought your intertwined hands up, and set his other on your waist he smiled at you as you began to move with the music “You’re a great dancer. And I say that as the guy who taught you in the first place.” 

You smiled at the reference back to an undercover mission you had been on, that involved going to very rich man’s party. “Now you’re just trying to boost your own ego. As if I didn’t crush your toes more than a few times.” 

“Hey, I got over it, and you got better.” 

“We’ll see, it has been a while.” 

“You’re doing fine.” He said honestly with a small smile that made your heart pound. 

You chatted through the rest of the song, and as the next started Clint paused as he looked around “I have something for you.”

Queue the rapid beating heart again “What?” you asked. 

Reaching into his suit pocket, carefully, he pulled out a single, delicate, half-bloomed rose. You froze as you stared down at it as he handed it to you. You stared at in in surprise before you glimpsed up at him, your eyes briefly scanning the people behind him, noting that they were all preoccupied with their partners. 

“Clint, this is...”

“A confession.” he finished.

You met his eyes “So it was you the whole time?”

He smiled while gesturing his head “Yeah well, I guess I just couldn’t stop myself from falling in love with my best friend.”

If your heart could beat so hard out of your chest, this was the moment. “What?” you almost whispered out. 

He took a small step closer so that your faces were mere inches apart as he brought up his hand to gentle brush the side of your face “I’m saying I love you Y/n. Have for quite a while actually.” 

Unable to stop yourself you all but leaped forward and you wrapped your arms around his neck in a tight embrace making him chuckle as he wrapped his arms around you. He spoke into your ear “I’m hoping this is a good reaction.”

You pulled away with a laugh “Yes it is Clint. I- “ you hesitated, out of fear and excitement before whispering out “I love you too.”

Clint grinned at your words before he cupped your face in his hands and pulled you into a kiss. Both of you smiled into the kiss before pulling away. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a hell of a long time.” 

Your smile continued to beam at him as he said this, before he reached out and pulled you closer, his hand intertwined in your again. Leaning in, you kissed again before pulling away as he began to sway your bodies again in time with the music “Natasha knew didn’t she?” you asked, thinking back on all the times you and her had talked about it. 

“How could she not? Besides, she helped me deliver them on a few occasions.” he smirked making you smile and shake your head as you thought back to that day in the gym.  

“So why the flowers and the notes? I knew you were a romantic, but even for you this is a bit...dramatic, not to mention patient.” 

He chuckled “Oh trust me, there were times I almost gave in and just told you. But, I heard you talking to some of the others about Valentines a while back, you know when you guys were laughing about how they put all that Valentines stuff in stores two months before? And I heard you mention that you’ve never really had a Valentine before, so I thought, hey what the hell, I’ll be your Valentine.” he finished with a cheesy smile that made you giggle.

“Well.” you paused “I couldn’t have asked for a better Valentine that you.”

He smiled fondly at you before pressing a kiss to your forehead. Moving to rest your head against his shoulder he pressed a kiss to the side of your temple as you continued to dance. Both of you unaware of the grinning and giggling Natasha and Wanda watching from the corner of the room.

xx xx xx xx xx

If you liked it, please consider reblogging and checking out the rest of the endings!~ :)

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Pasaana Festival

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Inspiration: This scene from Star Wars – The Rise of Skywalker

Warnings: None – only mischief and love.

Summary: You all arrived at Pasaana together. Poe laid out the plan to find the Wayfinder but you stray with an idea of your own – much to his annoyance.

You knew that it was a serious mission and that the fate of the entire galaxy depended on their little team, but you were sure as hell glad that they landed on Pasaana that day.

The air was arid and sandy which brought out a bothered growl by Chewbacca and yet, his complaints did nothing to drown out the music of the Festival of the Ancestors or the smile that grew on your face. Poe groaned at their misfortune of a large crowd and glanced back at the group only to see your expression of excitement – looking like you were going to bolt at any given chance.

“What have I done to deserve this?” Poe sighed to himself. Shaking his head briefly, he placed a hand on his hip and laid down the plan once more. “Stick together and look for clues that will lead us to the Wayfinder. Got it?”

There were nods from all, even BB-8 whirred with agreement. You stepped forward and latched onto his arm, your eyes fixed on the colourful clothes and smoke across the plain. 

“I can’t believe we’re going to see it. We’re actually going to be part of the festival.” You said with complete awe.

The rest of the team began their descent to the dancing people while Poe was momentarily held back. He tapped your hand lightly and squinted.

“Can you please remember that we’re here for a mission?” His request finally snapped you back to reality and you cleared your throat, pushing down the excitement while releasing him from your hold.

You both joined up with Finn, Rey, Chewbacca and the droids at the base of the sand hill before walking a few feet forward into the crowd. Ray absorbed the culture with her grin and wide eyes, remarking that it wasn’t something that she’d ever seen before. Poe commented dryly on the lack of obtaining their target, clearly exhausted from the heat which made you smile with a taunt sitting at the tip of your tongue. 

“You know we’re witnessing history right, Poe?” You called above the noise from where you trailed at the back of the group. 

“Well, history is in flux at the moment. If we don’t achieve our goal then this festival might not happen in the next 42 years. What do you think about that?”

Poe glanced back at you to see your reaction and felt his heart leap into his throat. 

“Oh, great!” He groaned loudly, looking around frantically – you weren’t with them anymore. “This is just like the Gungan’s Casino on Canto Bight.”

Finn frowned at his friend as Poe rushed past him. 

“What happened on...?”

“I’ll tell you later. I need you guys to keep going while I fetch (Y/n).” He bolted through the crowd, trying to be discreet as he looked for where you were bound to be lightsaber deep in festivities.

The drums beat heavy and sent vibrations through the sand as the locals performed their traditional dance. Poe grew frustrated unable to locate you until your hair stuck out from the dancing crowd. He wasn’t too far away and as he made his way over, he was able to see glimpses of the way you mirrored their dance style effortlessly swaying from left to right.

Unfortunately, before he could reach you, his path was blocked by a handful of Aki-Aki hauling baskets of kites and fireworks. The colourful smoke blocking his sight and filling his nostrils with the smell of sand and chalk. Poe mistakenly took in a deep breath of frustration and launched into a coughing fit when he inhaled the dry powder.

The pilot frowned and quickly sought to go around the locals and when he succeeded in claiming clear air, he found that you were no longer dancing in his sights. It was almost as if you enjoyed doing this to him. Cursing his luck once again, Poe waded through the dancers until he reached a clearing of stalls that were, as he expected, bustling with Aki-Aki.

Looking for his needle in the local haystack, Poe stayed away from smaller Stormtrooper patrols while he scanned across the market and paused on a figure wearing a yellow festival robe who was suspiciously taller than the rest. Feeling the heaviness in his chest lift, Poe followed his instinct and approached. He was going to reprimand you but quickly realised that you weren’t alone.

You were in deep conversation with an Elder of the Aki-Aki and pleasantly surprised Poe with your knowledge of communicating with them. Forcing a smile, Poe slid himself into the conversation leaning on the stall bench with his elbow, body facing you.

“I thought you said you’d focus?” He wondered. You smiled at the Elder as the small Aki-Aki stooped down to retrieve something.

“I’m focused. I’m just pursuing a different angle.”

“Why?” Poe pressed. “We have a plan. Is it really so difficult for you to stick to it?”

You turned to him and Poe felt his heart hammer in his chest, mind going foggy. Your lips were moving with an explanation but the Resistance pilot struggled to hear anything. He was captivated by the way the sun had illuminated your face, the fabric of the yellow hood moving with the warm breeze.

“... so after that nightmare why would I logically go with your plan?” You asked not realising that he had only caught the end of the question.

“If you follow my lead, I’ll marry you.”

You arched a brow with an unamused expression. “Try again.”

Poe stammered nervously when his brain caught up with what flew out of his mouth, trying to think of something else to persuade you but found himself distracted again and watched as the elderly Aki-Aki placed a bracelet of earth-toned beads around your wrist. The elder then focused on Poe and scowled while speaking in her native tongue.

“What’s-?” 

Your mood lifted at the series of curses that were being presented to the captain and you bumped against his shoulder lightly. 

“Give her your hand.” The gentle nudge prompted Poe to follow the request with bated breath as you smiled by his side. 

“No matter what mission that we’re on, it’s crucial that we make connections with the planets inhabitants. We can only make allies if we multitask and open ourselves up.”

“But right now?” Poe asked, holding up his wrist and shaking the identical bracelet. “With this?”

Sighing at his inability to cooperate or understand your methods, you thanked the Elder and walked in the direction of Chewbacca’s head poking out atop the Aki-Aki heads paying so heed to Poe chasing after you in the sand.

“That’s a traditional Aki-Aki engagement bracelet by the way.” You informed.

Poe’s eyes went wide, lifting his wrist to look at the beads – then he smiled. Maybe it was for the best since his intended engagement ring for you was rolling around in BB-8’s circuits.

Masterlist here

[michaelmyersmalewife]

the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat 1/?

- sephiroth/reader

- sfw

“The hell, man?”

With a sharp jerk of your wrists, you flipped the headset above your eyes, roughly shoving your hair up at the crown that gave you the vague appearance of a hastily arranged bird’s nest. Seconds ago, you were cutting down Shinra grunts on the Midgar highway like they were nothing but flowers. And now you were standing in a dome, adrenaline still buzzing through your veins. As the sim around you dissolved in a shower of 1’s and 0’s, the source of the interruption blotted out the light from the training room’s exit. Standing across from you - draped in black and wearing a grave face that would’ve made a skeleton shiver - was your mentor.

Sephiroth was an obelisk of a man, tall and lean and not unlike one of the statues you’d see guarding the churches in Sector 5’s slums.

“Least you could do is give me a warning before you pull me out like that.” you whined as you rolled your shoulders with a satisfying pop. “I was doing just fine before you rudely interrupted.”

“‘Just fine’ won’t cut it when you’re face-to-face with Wutai soldiers.” he said, crossing his arms. “You can do better. I’ve seen you do better.”

Sephiroth always spoke in a calm manner (as if he wasn’t already a pain in the ass to read), but since taking you under his wing you had come to recognize the many different flavors in which that calm manifested itself. And this was specially reserved for when he was very, very tired.

Feeling your palms prickle, you shoved your pair of shortswords back in their scabbards.

“Right.” you nodded curtly, setting the headset back in its charging port and already meaning to leave before he could cite some vaguely-worded and slightly cryptic advice. “There’s always tomorrow, right?”

Sidestepping in front of you in one fluid motion, Sephiroth peered down at you with an icy gaze. Craning your neck upward at an uncomfortable angle so that you weren’t eye-to-chest, you ground your foot into the floor.

“So we’re good tomorrow?”

He was as rigid as a glacier, and just as vocal. You sighed.

“Permission to return to quarters, sir?” you grumbled.

“Denied.”

You wheezed out a bitter laugh. Sometimes you wondered if he got off on bossing you around, but the notion of Sephiroth getting off to anything was enough to send you reeling.

“I thought you wanted to make 1st.”

A pithy breeze flashed in front of you, and it took you a second too long to realize there was a sword directed at your sternum. You stumbled backward, only barely finding your balance.

“What-“

“Don’t worry, this won’t be a fight.” he said, slowly inching Masamune forward until you had no choice but to walk backwards. “Think of it as a dialogue.”

You steadied the heavy thump of your heart as you straightened yourself, lifting your chin maybe just a little too high in a feeble attempt at hiding your nerves. The only time you had ever faced your mentor in a fight was the day he chose to train you out of a flock of other SOLDIERs. It was a punishing session, and in the end he had disarmed you in three moves. You had heard later from the other recruits that that was the longest anyone had lasted.

“Isn’t that the opposite of what you should be teaching me?”

“A SOLDIER isn’t just their kill count.”

Unsheathing your swords, you let slip a snort. “Easy for you to say.”

“I mean it.” he said, fortifying his stance as the room melted back into the sim.

“You’re getting sloppy. Good form, but no tact. When you accept those as parts of you,” he said, nodding toward your swords. “And not just a tool, everything else becomes an afterthought.”

He was awfully serious today - and he had practically cornered the market on being serious - but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you just a little nervous. You were used to aloof Sephiroth - succinct nods of approval and pointed glares of disapproval, both marked by a signature silence that could fill a room. Talking someone’s ear off wasn’t something Sephiroth was known for (or particularly good at, if you were being honest), but when he did, man was it weird.

In that time, you were back in the sim, now finding yourself standing outside a Shinra facility - a mako refinery, if the acrid odor drifting beneath the thick, briny scent of seawater gave you any indication. The two of you were standing on just one of the massive metal-plated pipes that fed into the factory. Jutting out the side of a cliff like a blossoming giant, a mess of pipes and valves, it faced a sea.

The environment around the facility was in a perpetual state of dusk, the sun sitting just above the water’s horizon, with clouds in shades of pink and gold that hovered wistfully in the sky. The last of the day’s blue disappearing into a day that would never come. The sea itself was dark, lazily churning against the face of the cliff, the sun’s light refracting into thousands of tiny gems on its surface.

Sephiroth took no time to admire the sim’s flawlessly randomized recreation - raising the hilt of his sword up to his eye level while keeping his right hand close to his body, shifting his weight on one foot while the other stayed back, ready to spring him forward at a moment’s notice. Taking his cue, you balanced yourself, holding your swords out in front of you in an x-shape.

The corner of his mouth quirked up in a tiny, self assured smirk (though, to the untrained eye, resembled more an involuntary twitch of muscle than anything), blinking long and slow. Your teeth worried at the inside of your cheek. Had he made you wait any longer and you think you would’ve broken skin.

But before you could worry a hole through your cheek, 7 feet of sinewy muscle charged at you like a bullet shot from a gun. His sword clashed against yours with an ear-splitting clang, the ringing of metal running down the tips of your fingers. Grunting at the force pushing back at you, you slid one sword out from under Masamune, slashing the air between you and effectively getting him to step the fuck off.

He bounced back, landing gracefully on the tips of his toes like a dancer coming down from a leap. His eyes narrowed, but there was a twinkling in his pupils. Normally, a beaming Sephiroth would’ve been a sight to commemorate, preferably behind a neat little frame set on a desk somewhere. But it only gave you one thought: Shit.

In a very short space of time, you were standing face to face with your superior once again, his sword slamming into the broad, flat side of your right hand’s blade. You had barely raised it in time, and he had only given you a moment to prepare yourself against a barrage of attacks, somehow managing to parry each one.

“You block too much. You’re a sword, not a shield.” he said, almost sounding bored.

You would’ve responded with any number of pieces of crude backchat that you’d accumulated since training under him, but the man hardly gave you time to breathe let alone think.

Each twitch of his sword was a masterpiece of technique. He fought like a well-oiled machine, inevitable, bloodless, with absolute awareness of the power he held. It was beautiful, or, it would be if you weren’t on the receiving end of his advances. He was fast, inhumanly, unfairly fast. And with his equally unfair reach, it was a miracle if you ever came close to landing a hit on him. The man had some cruel agreement with gravity.

After your nth parry and a last minute pass back, you held Masamune in place, running your left blade down its length. His eyebrows briefly twitched upward before flicking his sword up, sending your blades down and away. But in a flash, you lunged forward, cutting just beneath his chin and hacking away thin slivers of his bangs. You were about to allow yourself a smirk, maybe even a ‘hmph’ born from pride and amusement.

What happened instead was something so irritating it didn’t register with you until you were slammed to the floor. Pivoting away from an overhead slash, he - very gently - tucked his blade underneath yours, sending another bone-ringing clang through you like a bell. And (incredibly obnoxiously) he used your weight against you, forcing you backward. But, in a last-ditch effort to not look like a fool, you stuck one leg out - effectively killing any chance of recovery but by Gaia were you gonna take him down with you.

You staggered backward like a flimsy piece of rubber, hitting the ground with a thump as your swords clattered on either side of you. Of course, Sephiroth landed with grace - hardly falling at all so much as shifting himself in tune with your otherwise graceless tumble. And yet - despite being perfectly fine, actually - he wore an uncharacteristically poleaxed expression, his lips hanging slightly open like a man caught mid-practical joke.

The sim had already disappeared, the panel next to your head flickering off and on before completely shuttering off a few seconds behind the rest.

That was when the sound of cracks splitting across the floor met your ears. His sword had pierced the tile mere centimeters away from where your forehead was, drowning out the sound of blood rushing to your ears. Sephiroth stood hunched over you like a gargoyle, one knee drawn up to his abdomen while the other pressed hard into the floor, effectively caging you in black leather and silver hair. Tucked between cold tile and an even colder man, you couldn’t get back up if you wanted to.

“Was that good enough for you?” you wheezed, feeling like a pair of bricks had been shoved in your rib cage.

He studied you with close scrutiny and a blank expression, hardly winded but breathing quietly, evenly. You could never tell what he was thinking, even this close. You had resigned yourself with the thought that you never will.

“Dismissed.” he ordered, finally.

Pulling himself up, he tugged Masamune out from where it had wedged itself, stepping over you without so much as a look back.

You tried to sit up, only managing to lift your head before a singular phlegm-raddled cough sent you thudding back to the floor, dazed and hot - uncomfortably so, like you had been tossed in a furnace. Feeling the muscles in your arms and legs cry for mercy, you decided to lay there. Just for a few minutes more.

[clemkesh]

A ranking of friends at the table players’ character squads based on how likely it is that at least one of them will be murdered if they are all stuck in an elevator together for 24 hours, from least to most. This is based on nothing and I will be accepting no complaints.

Least Likely For There to Be a Murder: Dre’s Squad (Throndir, Sige, Even, Valence)- Throndir comes with Kodiak and all tense situations can be diffused via big, fluffy, dog. Yes, I know Sige is very pro violence (though if this is epilogue Sige, maybe less so) and he would almost certainly not vibe with Valence, but you just can’t do a murder with Kodiak as a witness. Also, Throndir and Even would def be good bros. Murder Odds: 0/10, Get yourself an anti-murder floof

Probably No Murder?: Janine’s Squad (Adaire, Signet, Thisbe)- You KNOW Signet and Thisbe would get along great. Signet knows how to befriend big robots and those ladies would be hittin it UP. The biggest concern here is that Adaire would maybe strip Thisbe for parts and sell her, but I think Signet would be able to talk her out of it. Murder Odds: 2/10, Give me the Signet & Thisbe dynamic duo asap 

Murder Still Kinda Unlikely: Sylvia’s Squad (Ephrim, Aubrey, Echo, Millie)- This is the elevator I would most wanna be stuck in, just cause this seems like a great crew and I think their convos would slap. Get some drinks up in here and everyone will get lit as hell and do each others’ hair. They are however, a rather chaotic unit. Like, Ephrim is a literal firecracker and Aubrey makes explosives and there’s just A Lot of variables that could lead to things blowing up literally or figuratively. Murder Odds: 3/10, Whatever happens it will be exciting

Who Knows With These Guys?: Keith’s Squad (Fero, Mako, Gig, Leap)- There are two possibilities here: 1. We already know Mako is great at corralling chaotic bois into a powerful force and they would all find each other hilarious. Fero and Gig could talk about horses while Leap and Mako discuss spacecrime, all in all a wonderful time. They become BFFLs. Or, 2. Have you ever met someone who was similar to you and felt a primal drive to prove yourself the alpha? Something happens and everyone snaps. Maybe Mako tries to fog Leap. Maybe Gig takes out his eye and Leap steals it. Maybe Fero turns into a wholetaur and no one can deal with it. Whatever it is, it turns into the Hunger Games. Only one can survive. Murder Odds: 5/10 I’ve literally never been able to predict Keith’s characters and I’m not about to start now

Slightly Murder-Leaning: Ali’s Squad (Hella, Aria, Castille, Tender, Broun)- Hella “What here is evil?” Varal’s presence elevates (ha) the likelihood of murder in this elevator by at least four points. Yes, she has grown past that, but ya gotta honor her “destroy what you don’t understand” roots somewhat and there’s a lot in this elevator she wouldn’t understand. Also, at least two people in this elevator would end up making out (Aria and Tender would 100% be into each other I’m right and I should say it) and that would probably cause a decent amount of discomfort or tension which could escalate into murderous feelings. Murder Odds: 6/10, orgy odds 1/10 Ali’s pcs all have horny energy and I respect that

Murder Seems Probable: Jack’s Squad (Lem, AuDy, Hitchcock, Fourteen, Clementine)- It’s not so much that I can point to any one person in this group who will do the murder, it’s just that as an entire unit this is probably the team that is most down with murder as a concept, and Lem and Clem are both pretty murderable people. Like, AuDy could shoot Clem and I think the Hitchcocks would politely applaud. Murder Odds: 8/10 A softboy, a robogod, a dancer, a duelist, an assassin, and a princess walk into an elevator...

Murder 100% Guaranteed: Art’s Squad (Hadrian, Cass, Grand, SI)- Grand Magnificent is the most murderable PC in f@tt history. Anyone who is stuck in an elevator with Grand Mag for 24 hrs and does not murder him is a saint. I have never done a murder but if I saw a man wearing the “ephemeral idea of a leather duster” it would be on SIGHT.  Murder Odds: 10/10 I feel this is self explanatory

[svnraez]

MHA headcanons

- Part of Bakugou’s room is dedicated to a shed kind of workspace so that when something of his breaks (eg. his hand grenades that store his nitroglycerine sweat), he can fix it himself since he doesn’t trust anyone else to do it. After doing this for a while it becomes a stress reliever for him after rough nights and when days are filled with anxiety and the feeling of always being watched. The only person who knows about it is Kirishima, who constantly checked up on Bakugou after the Kamino incident until he was finally let in. He occasionally comes into Bakugou’s room to watch him work, and often gets his earbuds fixed by him.

- Aoyama has a fridge underneath his bed that is filled with different exotic cheeses. Some of his classmates avoid his room because of the stench of it, not being able to pinpoint what the smell is.

- Deku’s notebook is actually a Death Note, but the rules are different- you can’t even tell me I’m wrong like that book is capable of killing everyone who’s written in it, so it’s basically just records for it’s future use.

- Denki and Sero sell clothes and accessories to their classmates with the brand name of “Coucci” (Like Gucci but ripoff). Satou is their biggest buyer, because he likes to get giant t-shirts and put them over the top of his clothes while he bakes.

- Mina has attempted to teach the Bakusquad how to dance 3.14159 this is pi followed by- times and they still have no damn clue what they’re doing. Kirishima, Denki and Sero still hold performances for her every fortnight on a Friday night which Bakugou refuses to participate in because he’s a little bitch and he’s the only one of them that’s half decent. She gave up on pretending to like their performances after a couple months, but the guys find her disappointment funny. They are admittedly improving though, so maybe one day they can be Mina’s backup dancers.

- Kirishima is the first person to learn sign language for when Bakugou goes deaf. Not because Bakugou told him that he’s going deaf, but because Kiri got the suspicion that he might and started learning before it could even happen. When Bakugou tells the squad, Kirishima is able to just leap into conversation with him. The Bakusquad is shook but not exactly surprised and Bakugou cries.

- Koda and Tamaki become really good friends. After Koda gets over his fear of insects, he talks to the butterflies for Tamaki and they both bond over their conversations about animals. Also since they’re both kind of quiet and soft characters I just think that they’d mesh well together.

- Momo plays the piano. I don’t know if she actually does but the piano seems kind of professional and proper if you get my vibe-

- Momo asks Jiro to teach her how to play electric guitar because she’s bored of the piano and wants to step outside of her comfort zone. Jiro finds this hot as hell and agrees to teach her how to play. These sessions end up as little dates.