#however one of my objections was that having your ‘subtle’ lord of the rings touch be ‘one dessert to rule them all’

[unopenablebox]

anyway i spent too much time reading offbe/at wedding and now i’m involuntarily scripting out my online cancellation in a universe where i for some reason send in our wedding to them to profile but get called out for asking them not to refer to it or us as “queer” anywhere in the article

[nikibogwater]

Bogwater’s Guide to Writing Platonic Relationships

Have a seat, dears, pour yourself a mug of cocoa, and let’s talk about writing for a bit. Specifically, writing emotionally intense, compelling relationships that are completely devoid of any romantic tension.

“Niki, those don’t exist! The only relationships that are truly intense and compelling are the romantic ones! Everybody knows that!”

*gently bonks you on the head with my magic scepter* NO. This is a common misconception that is perpetuated by media and especially fandom culture. And it stems from this bizarre idea that emotional intimacy must always equate with romantic intimacy. I have no idea where this idea got its start, but if you ask literally anybody who has experienced real, genuine friendship in their life, they will tell you it’s absolute nonsense. Just because you’re not doing the kissy-kiss with someone, that doesn’t mean you’re not emotionally intimate with them.

“But I don’t want any emotional intimacy without the kissy-kiss! It’s boring!” 

Yeah, so, there’s a reason platonic relationships in modern media often feel less interesting than romantic ones, and it’s precisely because of what I said above. Media producers and many fic authors are skittish about showing platonic love with the same level of depth and emotional intensity as romantic, so it often ends up being somewhat watered down and simplified, to the point that it becomes a less interesting relationship. The only thing this does is perpetuate the idea that any and all emotional intimacy immediately implies romantic attraction (it does not) while also devaluing the very real importance of genuine friendship/familial bonds. 

“Okay, but what if I just like romance better?”

That’s your personal preference, and that’s okay! Everybody has their favorite genres and tropes that resonate with them more than others. My personal favorite is Family, Found or otherwise (with a healthy dose of Hurt/Comfort on the side), but I can totally understand if romance speaks to you more. HOWEVER. This does not excuse writers and other content producers from low-key asserting that romantic relationships are objectively “better” than platonic ones. Hard fact of life: Nobody needs to experience romance, and even those who do experience it do so in different ways. But everybody does need to have emotional connections with other people through the bonds of friendship and family. Believe it or not, romantic love is not a universal experience. Platonic though? Everybody knows that one, and everybody needs it to be happy. To devalue it as a whole is to impose a toxic mindset that forces people to experience relationships in a very narrow and restrictive way.

Okay--*steps off my soap box and kicks it to the side*--now that we’ve established that friendship is important and should be given the same value that society gives to romance, let’s talk about a few ways to write intense and compelling platonic relationships!

Emotional Intimacy:

I’ve talked about this a lot already, but just in case some of you are confused, emotional intimacy is just when two people have a very deep familiarity and understanding of each other. They understand how the other’s mind works, and feel comfortable opening up to each other about their own stuff. Obviously, this is very important for any relationship, platonic or romantic, but writers will often limit such familiarity between characters to the romantic relationships. The first step to writing an interesting friendship is to not do that. Show that your platonic soulmates understand each other and are vulnerable with each other. Here are some easy ways to do that:

Character A knows all of Character B’s personal preferences--likes and dislikes, including small things like food, flowers, music, etc. 

A can finish B’s sentences for them. 

A is willing to talk about their feelings when B asks if they’re okay.

A and B trust each other and know the other always has their back

A and B will occasionally reference events in their shared history and even have inside jokes

A will seek B out for comfort when they are upset.

A and B almost never miscommunicate--they know what the other means when they say something, and will immediately notice if the other is acting strange.

A and B can communicate with each other silently, via subtle looks, eye movements, or gestures.

Selflessness:

To quote a grossly over-marketed Disney franchise, “Love is putting someone else’s needs before yours.” This is the simplest and also most accurate definition of love I’ve come across, and it is universal to all kinds of relationships. So in order to make your platonic relationship compelling, you need to show that the characters are willing to make sacrifices for each other--even big ones. Make sure this is a mutual exchange between both characters, because otherwise you risk making the relationship look a bit toxic. Here are a few of my favorite examples of selflessness between friends/family:

Character A willingly puts themselves in harm’s way in order to protect Character B.

A is always ready to drop what they’re doing and come to B’s assistance. 

A and B regularly do small favors for each other without being asked. 

A is always mindful of B’s needs and makes sure they’re taken care of.

A and B always do their best not to hurt each other, either physically or emotionally. 

A is openly very worried whenever B is in danger and stops at nothing to help them.

Affection:

This is the part where most writers balk when writing platonic relationships. “They can’t touch each other!!! That’s sexy and weird!!!” No, it’s not. This idea that any and all signs of affection are exclusive to romantic relationships is toxic, and we need to wipe it from existence. Obviously there are different levels of physical intimacy, and some absolutely are exclusive to romantic relationships. Here’s a list of No-Gos if you want to keep a relationship completely platonic:

Kissing on the lips/mouth/neck.

Gazing deeply and silently into each other’s eyes for long periods of time for no other reason than to simply Gaze.

Doing the Do or otherwise touching each other in an explicitly sexual way (I feel like this one should be pretty obvious. Also wth guys, that stuff is grooooosssssssss 🤢)

Honestly those are the only ones that I can think of that are always exclusively romantic. Everything else requires pre-established context in order to be taken as such. So here’s a list of affectionate gestures that are totally safe for established platonic relationships!

Little forehead/cheek kisses.

Hugs--yes, even prolonged ones. Sometimes friends/family just want to hold each other for a while, and not in a sexy way. 

Holding hands.

Leaning on each other.

Playing with each other’s hair or gently petting it in order to offer comfort.

Sleeping next to each other when circumstances require it (and neither of them makes any fuss over it)

Saying “I love you.” STOP MAKING THIS AN EXCLUSIVELY ROMANTIC THING, PLEASE, FOR THE SAKE OF ALL THAT IS PURE IN THIS WORLD!

Touching foreheads (my personal favorite of the lot!)

Maintaining prolonged eye-contact during moments of sincerity and communication, especially if Character A is trying to tell B something important.

Sweet little smiles, or other such soft looks of fondness

And many other gestures that I don’t have time to go over in this list.

Tip the First: When writing platonic affection, be sure to bear in mind your characters’ personalities and physical differences. For example, if Character A is significantly bigger and heavier than Character B, they probably wouldn’t be tackle-hugging B, because that would risk seriously injuring B. Different personalities also have different levels of comfort when it comes to physical affection. If you’re writing fanfic, it helps to revisit the source material and observe how the two characters interact with each other. And remember: just because two characters aren’t physically affectionate with each other, it does NOT mean they don’t have a deep and meaningful friendship. Also bear in mind that many people have different dynamics with different friends simply due to the way their personalities fit together. Not all of my friendships look the same, and it’s not because of insincerity on my part--I just have different interactions with different people.

Tip the Second: If you want the gestures of affection to really pack a punch, use them sparingly. Save your long, warm embraces for when the two characters finally reunite after a long separation. Have Character A take B’s hand only when they can sense that B is frightened and in need of reassurance. A “First Platonic Hug” scene can be just as sweet and feelsy as a “First Kiss” scene if you do it right! Also, don’t be afraid to talk at length about how a gesture of affection makes a character feel. Describe the warm fuzzies that bubble up in their chest when their friend/family member gives them a hug, wax poetic about how grateful they are to have said friend/family member in their life. Taking time to explore and dwell on a certain feeling should never be strictly reserved for the ones associated with romance. 

And when in doubt:

Observe the professionals. Here are some fantastic platonic relationships from various pieces of media that I take tons of inspiration from:

Frodo and Sam from Lord of the Rings (especially in the books)

Jim and Toby from Dreamworks’ Tales of Arcadia series

Din and Cara from Star Wars: The Mandalorian

Lilo and Nani from Disney’s Lilo and Stitch

So in conclusion:

Listen, I get it. Romance is exciting and cute and sexy and very important in its own right, and society likes to beat us over the head with it these days. But I cannot impress on you enough just how vital platonic relationships are to living a good and fulfilling life. I am who I am today because of the family and friends who have helped me grow. Please don’t disregard it, whether in your writing or in your own life. Cherish friendship. Acknowledge the depth of your platonic feelings for someone. And writers, please don’t be afraid to express those feelings in your work. If we let friendship and family die, I can assure you, any potential for healthy romantic relationships will quickly follow suit. 

[a-damson-in-distress]

The Protégé 2

Pairing: MadaSaku

Plot: In search of a new cellist for his prestigious orchestra, an infamously feared maestro stumbles upon a young rising star.

Note: Some of my favourite composers are mentioned in this chapter, if you’re into modern classics, you should definitely check them out. Hint: Maybe take a closer look at Bergersen’s pieces, he may or may not pop up again sometime down the road, as a pretty central plot device, if I might add. Also, I am a MASSIVE Lord of the Rings fan, and I would literally kiss the ground Howard Shore’s feet walk upon, so naturally, I had to mention him as well. The White Tree is a piece he composed for Return of the King, and you can hear it while Pippin was trying to light the beacons of Minas Tirith. If you want to check it out, here’s a video. The really good part begins at 1:25. Enjoy.

Madara usually closed his eyes during auditions – not that this was one, at least not one she was aware of. He felt he could concentrate on the music better this way, listening to every subtle sound and picking up even the tiniest tremble. But he couldn’t help but watch her perform. The way she swayed with the music, as if almost allowing herself to be lifted out of her seat by the melody and carried away into that fantastic world she seemed to conjure up in her head whenever she played. The way her brows furrowed in thorough concentration, intense agony, and passionate ecstasy. The way her head would sway and bob and jerk, freeing tendrils of her striking pink hair from the confines of her strict, tight, and predictable chignon.

That’s what this entire concert was so far – predictable. Classic. Safe. Tsunade Senju was one of Japan’s most renowned conductors and her tour so far has been met with nothing but praise, and even though Madara had to admit that there were a handful of her orchestra’s musicians who seemed to possess something akin to talent, or at least satisfactory control over their instrument, he was bored. The only person worthy of his attention was her principal cellist.

Sakura Haruno was a child prodigy. Madara had been following her unprecedented, albeit short career for a while now, even toying with the idea of signing her on. Yet his orchestra had been in no need of a new cellist for a very long time, primarily because his principal cellist was a damn good musician himself, and Madara knew kicking him out simply because he wanted Ms Haruno, without him ever having done anything wrong, would not go well with his Music Director. Until he found out the tutoring sessions of Mr Nara had nothing to do with him improving his fellow cellist’s sforzando, but everything to do with him sticking his hands down her pants.

Which resulted in a vacant cellist spot in his orchestra and Madara flying to Sapporo to see Sakura play. Despite her outstanding performance, Tsunade’s safe and predictable pieces were smothering her true talent, and – having already suspected a boring programme – he had asked the conductor in advance to give her principal cellist an experimental solo piece.

Madara expected many things, one of Zoltán Kodály’s works perhaps, or a Gaspar Cassadó, maybe something with a hint of Jazz. What he absolutely did not expect, however, was Sakura Haruno plucking, bowing, and playing her instrument, the audience, and herself into a state of musical ecstasy with a cello rendition of AC/DC’s Thunderstruck.

He had watched countless breathtaking performances in his nearly twenty-year long career, conducted even more – but Madara honestly had to admit he had never once gotten goose bumps before. And yet four minutes of this delicate pink-haired fairy nearly massacring her cello was more than enough to regret every single second of not having her in his orchestra.

So he did the only logical thing and stole her.

“You know, my Music Director considers this stealing.”

Madara raised an eyebrow. Of course, he does.

“So do many others here at Kyoto Concert Hall. They all think you’re stealing from us.”

He couldn’t supress a smirk. Of course, they do, because of course he was. Though he would never call it stealing. Strategic relocation sounded much more like his modus operandi.

His widening grin only made Tsunade’s nostrils flare even more.

“You should consider yourself lucky that I have nothing left to teach her, otherwise I would fight you tooth and nail for that young lady.”

Madara lowered his amused gaze to the index finger threateningly pointed at his chest, before meeting Tsunade’s eyes. “My my, I think I should consider myself lucky to have witnessed the moment Tsunade Senju admits that I’m a better conductor than her.”

“That is not what I said, you daft bastard!”

If looks could kill, Madara would have probably died of spontaneous combustion right this second.

The raven-haired conductor resisted the urge to roll his eyes and levelled Tsunade with a deadpan expression. “There’s no need to go over this again. We’ve discussed all the details and necessary arrangements. She will be part of my orchestra, and there is nothing you can do about it. You said it yourself, she’s learned everything she can from you and now it’s time to move on to bigger and better things. I will be good for her.”

He watched her narrow her eyes in suspicion. Tsunade took another step to bridge the distance between them until she was so close her chest was almost touching his torso. Madara forced himself to supress the groan of annoyance threatening to escape his throat. He had always hated, and at the same time respected Tsunade’s in-your-face attitude.

The blonde conductor scrutinised him for another moment, before hissing, “But will you also be good to her?”

A careful knock on the door suddenly dissipated the tension in Tsunade’s office, and she turned towards the sound. She grabbed the handle of the door and opened it wider to allow the person in.

“Ms Haruno, come in.”

Madara watched the object of his musical desire hesitantly step into the office before Tsunade grabbed a hold of her shoulders and practically forced her inside. She leaned her cello case against the wall and nervously played with her hair. She seemed so skittish that, for a moment, Madara feared Tsunade had already told her that he was here today because of her.

“Ms Haruno, there’s somebody I would like you to meet.”

The raven-haired conductor could no longer keep still and raised his voice, “It is a pleasure to meet you, Ms Haruno.”

And then she turned around and fixed her wide doe-like eyes on him and a tiny, barely audible gasp escaped her lips. Her jade orbs widened in admiration, and Madara knew in that instant he had her.

“I’m Madara Uchiha.”

Hook, line, and sinker.

He allowed himself another moment to bask in her reverence so clearly mirrored in her expressive eyes, before offering his hand.

She blinked a few times, as if to shake herself out of her trance and her gaze jumped back and forth between his hand and his face. When she finally seemed to realise who was standing in front of her, she gingerly shook his hand and whispered, “It’s such an honour to meet you, Mr Uchiha. I’m – “

“Sakura Haruno, I know,” he interrupted while enjoying the feel of her warm tiny hand in his.

She abruptly let go and looked at him in wonder before stammering, “You – wait, how do… You know me?”

How adorable, Madara thought. She was a world-famous musician herself, rubbing elbows with international A-listers of the classical music scene, and yet she couldn’t wrap her pretty little head around the thought of a fellow countryman knowing her name.

He was just about to open his mouth to speak when he heard Tsunade sigh behind her.

“There’s no point in beating about the bush, Ms Haruno, so I’m just going to come out and say it. Mr Uchiha is looking for a new principal cellist in his orchestra and he has approached me with the idea of signing you on.”

Sakura’s gaze swept back and forth between her current maestro and the raven-haired man next to her, her lips opening and forming a bewildered little o. Both conductors looked at her expectantly and gave her a few seconds to process the information. After a few moments of silence, where Sakura vacantly looked at her cello case, deep in thought and seemingly boring holes into it, Madara fixed his questioning gaze on Tsunade. Sensing her hesitance, he took it upon himself to break the silence.

“Ms Haruno, this is the point where you say something,” he gently coaxed her.

Her head whipped to the right, surprised eyes meeting his expectant ones, like a deer caught in the headlights. Sakura closed her mouth, licked her lips, and shook her head as if to force herself to concentrate. Tugging a strand of hair behind her ear, she cleared her throat before turning to Tsunade and raising her voice.

“Is that why you gave me the solo in Sapporo? You’ve never given me one before, I thought it was strange.” Sakura’s head slowly turned to face him again, and she shyly peeked up at him through her eyelashes. “It was an audition. You were there, weren’t you?” she murmured.

Madara immediately recognised the look on her face. She wanted to know how she did.

“I wouldn’t call it an audition, really. Not when I decided to sign you on weeks ago. It was more of a formality.” The way her blush spread across her cheeks and her lips spread into a tiny, proud grin and her eyes sparkled with gratification told him that was exactly what she wanted to hear.

Their moment was interrupted when Madara heard Tsunade pointedly clear her throat.

“I know this might be sudden for you, Ms Haruno. But rest assured, you have a month to think about the offer. After all, we still have two concerts to play in the upcoming weeks and by the end of March, we will be done with our tour, which will also be the same time your contract with our orchestra will run out. If, by then, you choose to extend your contract with us, you’ll stay here, no questions asked.” Tsunade fixed her principal cellist with a determined gaze, no doubt silently imploring her to remain in Kyoto, Madara mused. She then let her annoyed eyes rest on him, staring daggers in his direction while hissing, “Should you chose to accept Mr Uchiha’s offer instead, we will do everything in our power to help you transition to Tokyo as smoothly as possible.”

The two conductors waged a silent war with their challenging and determined gazes, each trying to stare down the other, when they were suddenly interrupted by Sakura’s hesitant whisper.

“I don’t know what to say.”

Madara’s eyes landed on the young cellist in front of him and his expression immediately softened when he found her nervously chewing on her bottom lip, brows deeply furrowed in confusion. Her uncertain gaze swept back and forth between the two conductors as she spoke, “This such a huge offer, and thank you, by the way, Mr Uchiha, really. This is just… You have – I can’t even begin to describe how much this means to me. But at the same time,” her eyes landed on Tsunade, “my roots are in Kyoto, this is where I started my career and learned so much, and I really feel tied to this place, as well.” Sakura lowered her gaze and started pulling on the ends of her west, before letting out a long sigh. “This is a really life-changing opportunity for me. So I hope neither of you expected an immediate answer. I think I’m really going to need that month to think things through, if you don’t mind.”

Both conductors let their shoulders slump, releasing some of the tension they were feeling waiting for the cellist’s reaction. They both exchanged a knowing look before Tsunade stepped closer to the pinkette and gave her shoulders are reassuring squeeze. “Of course, Ms Haruno. Neither of us want to pressure you with this, so take your time. We both want you to be absolutely certain with this decision and we both want you to feel comfortable in whatever orchestra you choose.”

Sakura gave her current maestro a thankful smile. Tsunade released her shoulders and stepped in front of her, crossing her arms in front of her chest and pointed out, “Just keep in mind that I still expect you to bring your A-game for the last two concerts, so don’t allow your daydreaming about Mr Uchiha’s offer to tarnish your performance.” Another blush tainted Sakura’s cheeks. “Of course, Maestro.”

“I’ll send a copy of your contract to Mrs Senju, and she’ll forward it to you. You can take your time to read through it and get a feel for the things that I will require from you, rehearsal schedules, planned tour dates, a list of my rules, that sort of thing. I’m sure it’s not much different to the contract you signed with Kyoto Concert Hall, but I am known to be somewhat stricter than other conductors, so I want you to know exactly what you should expect before you make your decision.” Madara stared into her jade green eyes and expected to see uncertainty, maybe even a touch of apprehension. But he was again met with awe and reverence, as if she couldn’t believe he deemed her worthy enough to even cast a glance in her general direction. His entire orchestra and virtually every musician he had ever met stared at him the same way, so Madara was long since used to the awe-inspired looks and couldn’t care less about them. 

But something about the way this young cellist peeked up at him, as if he were something out of every musician’s dream, a god among conductors, and the walking talking embodiment of musical perfection all wrapped in one with a ribbon on it gave Madara a massive, albeit unnecessary, ego boost. He realised then that Ms Haruno was the only person whose obvious adoration did not annoy him. He found himself enjoying it. Which was why the need to have her grew even stronger.

The raven-haired maestro swallowed the lump of unexpected excitement in his throat and gave Sakura a subtle, encouraging smile. “Give it your best for the last two concerts. And I promise I won’t be secretly attending anymore, so you don’t have to be nervous or anything. Take your time to think about everything, and once you’ve made up your mind, Mrs Senju will give you my email address and you can let me know directly. But you must be absolutely certain about this. I tend to be very possessive of my musicians, and I would have a hard time letting you go,” he drawled vaguely.

Madara didn’t think it was possible, but her blush deepened even more. Before allowing himself to keep teasing the cellist and to fall further down the rabbit hole, he forced himself to end the conversation and extend his hand, which she hesitantly took.

“Ms Haruno,” he murmured, his gaze lowering to her lips for the briefest moment before meeting her wide eyes again. He gave her one last long tempting look before letting go of her hand, nodding goodbye to Tsunade, and sauntering out of the office.

Sakura was on edge. They were currently in Osaka for the last concert of their tour, and even though Mr Uchiha promised not to attend and she believed him, she still felt incredibly nervous. Not so much because of the performance per se, she knew how well-prepared they all were and that the concert was going to be a success. She was nervous, because the one-month waiting time was almost over, and both Mr Uchiha and her maestro were going to expect an answer soon.

While the two violas she shared a hotel room with were busy in the bathroom putting on their makeup, Sakura was lying on her bed with her laptop in front of her, staring at the contract she got from her conductor for what felt like the millionth time.

Mr Uchiha had been right, it wasn’t all that different to her current contract. Though the rehearsal schedules were a bit more tightly packed than she was used to and the planned upcoming tour would take them to farther away places, her employment with the Tokyo New National Theatre essentially included the same responsibilities and requirements as her current work for Kyoto Concert Hall.

One aspect of Mr Uchiha’s offer that was incredibly appealing to her was the repertoire. The pieces he performed with his orchestra were completely different to what she had been playing so far under Maestro Senju’s lead. Though his programme did include the most important classical composers and his orchestra did occasionally play some of the most well-known and most popular pieces, he was more famous for his penchant for conducting modern classics. She had almost spat out her tea when she first read the names Brian Tyler, Thomas Bergersen, and Howard Shore. The thought of being on the same stage as Madara Uchiha and performing Howard Shore’s The White Tree made her insides tingle with excitement.

And the repertoire was almost enough to maker her agree. Were it not for his incredibly precise and incredibly strict list of incredibly precise and incredibly strict rules. While Sakura was used to high expectations and rigorous leadership form her time with Maestro Senju’s orchestra, nothing came even remotely close to Mr Uchiha’s demands.

As stated under section 1. Rights Granted and Territory and section 3. Delivery, the Musician is obliged to abide by the following set of rules set out below.

The Musician:

1.     Acknowledges his/her role and responsibility as a person of public interest and shall henceforth be mindful of his/her public image and the way it reflects on the Tokyo Metropolitan Symphony Orchestra. A respectable demeanour is expected at all times and measures shall be taken to avoid embodying unwanted characteristics, including but not limited to:

o   Tardiness

o   Discourteousness

o   Vulgarity

o   Promiscuity

o   Intoxication

o   Arrogance

2.     Agrees to take meticulous care of his/her appearance, especially during concerts and other public engagements when representing the orchestra. The Musician shall wear whatever concert outfit the Conductor deems appropriate during concerts as well as appropriate formal clothing for other public appearances in accordance with either the Conductor or the orchestra’s publicist. In private, the Musician is free to dress however he/she chooses, with the following restrictions and requirements:

o   No cleavage

o   No skirts and dresses shorter than three (3) centimetres above the knee

o   No shorts shorter than five (5) centimetres above the knee

o   No torn clothing, pants or otherwise

o   No visible underwear and/or bras

o   No transparent clothing

o   No clothing with provocative and/or controversial statements, logos, or pictures

o   No exaggerated make-up, including but not limited to bright lipstick, bright eyeshadow, and bright blush

o   No facial piercings

o   No greasy and/or unkempt hair

3.     Shall limit displays of affection when out in public with his/her significant other and keep them to a respectable minimum. Short kisses and pecks on the cheek as well as short hugs and holding hands are within the scope of acceptability. Prolonged physical contact as well inappropriate and/or intimate touching and gestures are not allowed.

4.     Retains the right to keep his/her own social media profiles active if desired but transfers the management of said profiles to the orchestra’s publicist. The Musician shall refrain from posting any content online without the explicit approval of the publicist.

5.     Shall refrain from pursuing any sort of intimate relationship, sexual or otherwise, with any active member of the Tokyo Metropolitan Symphony Orchestra, including but not limited to the musicians, the tutors, the PR team, and the Conductor.

And that was only the first page. The list went on for another two pages, full of uncompromising rules dedicated to upholding the good name of the Tokyo Metropolitan Symphony Orchestra while at the same time restricting its musicians freedom in many aspects. Sakura knew that especially in Japan’s classical music scene, image, reputation, and appearance were the non plus ultra, probably even more important than for other orchestras from different countries. And she was even used to a certain level of stuck-up and pernickety snootiness. Yet, Mr Uchiha’s supercilious demands blew all of that out of the water. Sakura wasn’t sure if she was ready to agree to some contract that would stipulate what sort of skirt she was allowed to wear (not that she wore promiscuous clothing, but this was a matter of principle) or for some publicist to tell her what she was and wasn’t allowed to say on the internet.

But every time she thought about whether or not she would be able to tolerate these restrictions, her mind went back to her first meeting with Mr Uchiha and the way he looked at her so intently, and all her inhibitions flew right out of the window. He admitted that he had decided to sign her on weeks before that, he said Sakura didn’t even need an audition. When the conductor had praised her and subtly told her how well she performed in Sapporo, the young cellist felt a rush of euphoria surge through her body the force of which she had never felt before when Maestro Senju would compliment her on her performance.

After weeks of poring over the contract and weighing the pros and cons of submitting herself to Mr Uchiha’s strict rules, it seemed to Sakura that in the end, her excitement over the possibility of working under the ingenious conductor always outweighed any inhibitions or hesitance.

Hearing a loud noise from the bathroom, Sakura was torn from her thoughts and lifted her gaze from her laptop to the two violas emerging from behind the door. “Sakura, come on, we’re supposed to be at the concert hall in half an hour. You need to get ready.”

She gave the contract one last thoughtful look before closing her laptop and climbing down from her bed. Stepping in front of the bathroom mirror, the cellist gave her appearance a scrutinising look, before grabbing her make-up pouch. This was the last concert of Tsunade Senju’s tour, and the conductor always liked to go out with a bang. So Sakura was going to look extra made-up tonight.

The girls grabbed their cases and left for the concert hall.

When Sakura entered the stage amidst roaring applause, she could feel the familiar rush of excitement run through her veins. The cellist took a seat, prepared herself, and played her heart out.

After Madara returned to his office from his meeting with his Music Director to discuss details for his orchestra’s upcoming tour, he wanted nothing more than to pour himself two fingers of his favourite Scotch, lay a bag of frozen peas on his neck, and proceed to throw the damn bastard of a Director out of his window. He did the first two but refrained from doing the latter. The supercilious oaf was the one signing his paycheck, after all. His Music Director was giving him hell on the best of days, but ever since they were short one principal cellist, Madara swore his ability to annoy him grew to exorbitant heights.

One glance at his watch had the conductor groan in defeat. 1:14 am. Even though he still had a mountain of work to do, he decided he wasn’t going to stay in his office any longer, not for all the tea in China.

Just as he was about to grab his coat, his laptop pinged with the notification of a new email.

“What the everloving fuck now?” he growled, stalking back to his desk and staring daggers at the too-bright screen.

His eyes widened a fraction when he read the name of the sender. Throwing his coat over his chair, the raven-haired conductor took a seat and opened the email.

 Dear Mr Uchiha,

I would like to once again express my sincerest gratitude to you for considering me for the position of principal cellist in your orchestra. Again, I cannot put into words what an honour your offer is and how deeply I appreciate it. Therefore, after careful consideration, I have decided to accept your offer of joining the Tokyo Metropolitan Symphony Orchestra.

I look forward to working under you.

 Yours sincerely,

Sakura Haruno

 PS: What do I do next?

 All the tension and anger suddenly dissipated from Madara’s body, and he could even feel his lips spread into a victorious grin. Sighing contentedly, he leaned back in his chair and crossed his hands behind his head. As he skimmed through Ms Haruno’s email again, he couldn’t help but chuckle at her post scriptum. For some inexplicable reason, Madara found himself enjoying the way she was already looking to him for guidance, asking him what to do.

He was going to have way too much fun with her, the maestro thought with a wicked grin dangling from his lips.

Cracking his knuckles, Madara leaned forward again and started typing.

[bethbayless-blog]

Chapter 1: New Earth 

    Prince Acarad Allison of Glade slipped through the curtains acting as a door into his public sitting room. A simple silver comb held his hair away from his face and declared his position as Second Prince of Glade, thus second heir. He threw himself onto a lounge chair and waited for his next visitor. As though on cue, a noble woman slightly older than Acarad entered, greeting him with a curtsy. 

    “Lady Amiri, please sit,” Acarad said, gesturing to the available furniture. “There is no need to be formal here.” 

    “Prince Acarad, you are too kind,” Lady Amiri said, sitting down in a red velvet chair. “I have heard of your charity drives for the floor and that you often participate in these charity events.” 

    “Tat is true,” Acarad nodded. “I know many here see my actions as currying favor but I assure you, I do not play the Great Game of subtlety.” 

    “I am glad for that your Highness,” Lady Amiri said. “If I may be so bold, I wonder if other rumors are true.” 

    “What rumors my lady,” Acarad asked. 

    “I have been told you enjoy the company of people and animals,” Lady Amiri answered. 

    “I enjoy being around people and animals,” Acarad explained. “I feel more comfortable with people than without.” 

    “I have also heard rumors that you practice magic and mind reading.” 

    “I am a Wizard specifically. I learn and use spells. Mages learn and create spells.. However, I do not read minds. I take note of little things.” 

    “How so?” 

    “For example, I have seen you gravitate more toward a specific woman at court. I see you two have matching polished rings. You touch yours for reassurance. She is likely your lover, sister or wife.” 

    “You are correct highness,” Lady Amiri blushed. “Lady Comery is my wife. We were wed last month.” 

    “Congratulations. 

    “Thank you my prince. I do hope you understand that we want to keep this secret.” 

    “I understand your fear, knowing you came from Toloc. I know it is difficult to be yourself at court here. But, I assure you that my people are far more welcoming than they seem.” 

    “I do not understand.” 

    “We welcome all, regardless of homeland, romantic and sexual preferences, and religion. I can attest to those facts. I prefer male partners, worship the Four Makers, and have family in all human lands. Noone here judges me for it.”  

    “Is that so?” 

   

    “Yes, and I hope you become comfortable enough to be yourself.” 

    “If you ever want to talk to someone about it, I am always able to make time. I promise.” 

    “Thank you, I will keep that in mind.” 

    “I am glad.” 

    “Your highness, would you show me some of your magic?” 

    “Of course.” 

    Acarad closed his eyes, cupped his hands, right over left, and focused on what he wanted to bring to his hands. In this case, a small crystal. He murmured a few words in a dead language, and opened his hands. A small grey crystal lay in the palm of his dominant hand. Lady Amiri’s eyes lit up like a child’s. 

    “That was amazing,” she said. 

    “Summoning an inanimate object is easy, especially when it is lightweight. The heavier the object, the more difficult it is to summon,” Acarad answered. 

    “Could you summon people,” she asked. 

    “Only if they are dead,” Acarad answered. “If they are alive when I summon them, they come to me dead. The same goes for animals and plants.” 

    “Peculiar...Stories tell of Wizards bringing people to them in battle,” Amiri said. 

    “It is possible the stories you have heard are about Wizards using portals. To make a portal is a lost ability now that the wars of old are gone.” 

    “What do you mean?” 

    “This world was, as one point,five worlds. One had dragons and sprites, ruling over their mountains, prairies, and rivers. Humans had a world of stone, water, and woods. Goblins lived in a world of forests and babbling brooks. The kyrill had oceans and islands we could never dream of. Fits had a world of fertile land made from their volcanoes. But each people destroyed their world somehow. The first Drifters helped make a new world for all six. Most technologies and forms of magic were lost to all, and now we need to find them again and hope we don’t repeat history.” 

    “How do you know this? What proof is there,” Lady Amiri asked. 

    “The Drifters came to Glade when I was about eight years old. The Earth Drifter took me aside and told me the histories and about magic. She introduced me to my mentor before she left,” Acarad answered. 

    “Thank you for your time, your highness,” Lady Amiri answered. She stood and brushed the wrinkles out of her dress. “I think that I have been here long enough. I do not wish to take away from your time with others.” 

    “Please come to me any time you wish,” Acarad answered. “I am always going to make time for others.” 

    “Thank you again highness,” Lady Amiri said. “I think I will join my wife in walking the gardens.” 

    “Then join her,” Acarad said. 

    Lady Amiri curtsied and slipped out the door with a small smile playing on her lips.Acarad turned to the windows, watching a page dart through the flower beds. The page disappeared around a corner and Acarad heard a light knock on the garden door. 

    “Enter,” the young prince called. The page stepped in and closed the door. “What do you bring me, little one?” Acarad turned and knelt down to meet the boy’s height. 

    “I bring you news of the ball tonight PRince Acarad,” The boy said. He held out an envelope with a light blue seal. “Lord Kiler wishes to see you beforehand.” 

    “Thank you little one,” Acarad said. He took the envelope. “There is a toy chest under the desk. You may choose one toy to keep.” 

    “Really your highness? Aren’t they yours,” the boy asked. 

    “I am twenty-two little one. I do not need them. Go ahead and take one,” Acarad chuckled. The boy’s eyes lit up and he walked to the desk. As the boy rummaged through the barely used toys, Acarad stood and opened the envelope. There was a paper inside, which Acarad pulled out and read. 

    ‘My dear prince, 

        I know we have been courting for some time now, and I wish to be able to sing it to the world. Would you like to tell the court at the ball? Please meet me in my private rooms to talk it over. 

    Your lover, 

    Lord Elija Kiler.’ 

    Acarad smiled and turned to the desk. The boy had settled on a little blue doll. 

    “Little one, would you please carry a message to Lord Kiler for me,” The prince asked. 

    “Yes Prince Acarad,” The boy replied. 

    “Just tell him I will talk to him at the noon meal,” Acarad said. 

    “I will tell him Prince Acarad,” the boy grinned. “Thank you for the toy.” 

    “You are welcome,” Acarad said “And thank you.” 

    The boy skipped out of the room and down the paths in the gardens. Acarad stood and walked over to his study. Books lay open on every surface, and where there weren’t books there were potion powders and old tea cups. It looked disorganized and very un-princely, but that was the genius behind Acarad’s eyes. Yes, most maic users were senile, insane, or dead, but Acarad was none of those things. He looked at people and felt what ailed them, he never knew why. Most would take his gestures, magic, and words to be a part of the Courtly Dance, but it rarely was. His chaos was his system, and his gestures generous and real. Most of his books were about magic that could help people. He had books on combat, as any prince should. He had spell books for shields, minor curses, and weapon summoning. He had books full of spells, illusions, and Spirit speaking. Acarad opened a book in a particular subject of growing spells and combed through the rough pages until he found the one in particular he was searching for. He mumbled under his breath, naming different herbs and conditions for the spell. Acarad summoned the ingredients he needed with a flick of his wrist and a simple word. 

    Someone knocked on the door to his study. “Enter, but beware of floating herbs,” Acarad said. A man with wrinkles on his black skin entered the room, ducking under a cup of ginger root shavings. “Just a moment and I will be done.” Acarad summoned a large bowl and a pitcher of water. He mixed the ingredients carefully whispering in a long forgotten language to complete the spell. He set the pitcher down and summoned a ladle and several jars. “Would you like a spell to grow peach trees sir? I have plenty here.” 

“No thank you my Prince,” the old man replied. “I came hoping for a rain spell, or one that would bring water to my village’s well. The summer has been dry this year.” 

    “You are from Heat Clinch then,” Acarad asked. He summoned a pouch of powder to his hands. 

    “Yes Prince,” the old man answered. “Take this pouch, sprinkle the contents on the river beds at night. Only use half a cup at a time until it is gone. The water around the bed will join the main river gradually. Come back a week after you run out and I will have a different spell for you,” Acarad said. He took a step and handed the old man the pouch. “You must be tired and hungry. You could join me for breaking our fast this morning. Then I will have a page give you a room to sleep in.” 

    “Thank you Prince Acarad,” the old man said. “What do I owe you?” 

    “A conversation is all I will accept,” Acarad answered. He smiled and shook the man’s hand. 

    “Are you certain,” the man asked. 

    “Yes, I am absolutely certain,” Acarad answered. 

    “Then may I take up your offer of a meal,” the man asked. 

    “Of course,” Acarad answered. He led the man out of his labyrinth of rooms and down the halls of the palace. 

    “Your highness, may I ask you a question, the man asked. 

    “As many as you would like sir,” Acarad chuckled. 

    “Why do you not charge anything for your services?” 

    “I make my potions, spells, and trinkets to see what I can do. I might as well have an excuse to do those things.” 

    “But you are a prince.” 

    “I like to think a ruler ought to be known by their deeds. Light and Star know how many rulers and nobles use their ancestors’ work and wealth to do most things. I would rather connect to the people than my fellow nobles. Those with less not only give more, but need more. I want to give and be known for that rather than for playing of subtle scheming.” 

“Do you see people taking advantage of that so often?” 

    “Unfortunately, yes, I do see more abuse of power than use of it.” 

    “Then you are ready. “

    “I do not understand.” 

        Acarad turned to the man, but he was nowhere to be seen. Before Acarad could question anything, the ground swallowed him, leaving only his silver comb behind.