#i could keep adding more and more paragraphs to this i can never emphasize enough how much i love this episode

[uniformbravo]

melts into the floor.......................... that episode was so good................... it was SO good...................

like fuck dude i dont even know what to say i love nishimura & kitamoto so MUCH bro i can’t handle this im gonna PASS OUT i want 30 more episodes about just the two of them and natsume i need it....... o hmy god......... fUC im a mess

when natsume told kitamoto he wants to stay in this town forever because he loves it here 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 that line fuckin DECKED ME i CANNOT handle when he says shit like that i CANT DO IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HES SO HAPPY HERE it’s the ONLY place he’s ever really like really been happy, how could he ever want to leave, or move on? the sad way he says “i know it’s probably impossible, but i’d like to stay here” is so............. that feeling of being in such a good place, a time of so much happiness, and knowing it can’t last forever, existing in this way indefinitely.... GOD that hits hard 

also i love LOVE how both stories were about not only their individual experiences befriending natsume but ALSO both involved youkai in some way like god fuck oh my god i die for any scrap of that shit w/ these two??? i kno its literally the last thing natsume wants but PLS i love the idea of them getting involved in youkai stuff so much i NEED it ghggngh

Natsume Is Their Weird Friend And They Love Him Very Much god nishimura finds him passed out in the woods and IMMEDIATELY runs over to help him and all but DRAGS him to his house to get him to rest like PLEASE that is the aggressive nishimura love we like to SEE, that “if ur not gonna take care of urself then i guess I’M just gonna have to do it HUH” attitude he has ghgufhghg nishimura’s like “take care of yourself Or Else 🔫”

ALSO when kitamoto hears natsume talking to the youkai and assumes he’s getting bullied and FLIES into the room BOTH TIMES ready to defend him hello???? HELLO?????? that is some A PLUS SHIT MY DUdES, MY BOYS OUT HERE READY TO DEFEND MY BOY WE LOVE TO SEE IT,

when natsume mentions that he also lives on the second floor of his house and nishimura’s like woah that’s the first time i’ve ever heard him talk about himself hhu huuoOUH UUOHGOUHUOOU UHUOUOHUHUGHHGHhhH natsume slowly opening up to them......... letting himself be a little more honest w them...... WAIT THAT THOUGHT MAKES THAT ONE EPISODE SO MUCH SADDER the one w the culture festival and the theme of the ep was being honest w/ his friends and how much he can trust them with etc

they can get him to come out of his shell and smile more and spend time with them but no matter what they do he can never open up to them fully, there always has to be secrets between them, he has to keep a whole side of himself hidden from them oh noooooooo aaaaAAAAAA

AND THEY NOTICE when he’s being guarded too, they can tell when he closes himself off like that AAAAAAAAAAA nishimura talking about natsume’s fake smiles and kitamoto talking about his eyes like glass oughgoughuhfuofhghh no matter what they do there will always be moments where natsume hides himself from them again and they can’t really fully understand why so then you get scenes like that one in the culture festival ep where they urge natsume to be more genuine and honest with them and natsume instantly clams up again and they just have to accept that and i just. they just :(((((((((((((((

(but the fact that they’re able to get him to open up even as much as he has is....... i hope they realize what a huge fucking deal that is)

other things from this ep tho, nishimura yells at natsume about the paper cranes and then later after everything’s resolved he helps teach him how to make them......... he’d said it’s something every kid learns to do but the fact is that natsume didn’t learn so he helps him learn now and GOD it’s just like the bike thing all over again i SCREAM natsume getting to experience things now that he never could as a kid is just an instant fucking KO every goddamn time and nishimura and kitamoto are so often the ones making it happen and i just DIE ok i die fuckin hell gOD,

(sidenote back in the library when nishimura’s like “why don’t you just ask touko to help you learn why do you have to come to the library and learn from some book” and natsume’s like “i wanted to make sure i could actually do it before offering to help with the cranes” hoo OOOUHHHHH

wants to make sure he’ll actually be useful.... doesn’t want to embarrass himself by failing to be helpful and wasting her time AS IF she would see it even REMOTELY like that god she’d be so touched whether he could make 500 or 0 of them bc the fact that he offered to help at all means a lot more than he could ever imagine PLEASE i fall to the floor)

and the fact that nishimura’s issue is wanting natsume to rely on him more... when he blows up at him that’s his main deal, like. holy shit. this youkai has attached itself to him and is amplifying his stress and frustration to the point that he takes it out on natsume and even then it’s not “you’re weird, you’re a freak, leave me alone, stop talking to me,” it’s “why won’t you rely on me? why are you so distant? i’m trying so hard and you won’t even look at me” and that’s so monumental, especially in natsume’s case like. i think in a weird way that meant a lot to natsume??? like fuck, nishimura runs off and natsume goes after him to save him from the youkai, and afterward, when he’s talking to nyanko sensei, he says that nishimura is a good guy and that he’s important to him like..... LIKE........ FUC NISHIMURAS SO GOOD FUCk

and then there’s when natsume speaks so openly and genuinely about certain things that kitamoto’s surprised because social norms categorize those kinds of things as too embarrassing to just outright say to someone, and he’s like “hmm he really must not have learned those things when he was younger huh” (which, A) but then later, “i’m glad he’s able to be open like this” 🥺

i also LOVE how much this ep focused on each of their individual lives, like with nishimura’s brother and kitamoto’s sister & father...... Things That Make You Love Characters Even More ghfhgh like my love for them has always been mostly within the context of their friendship with natsume, but this was the first time they actually stood out as individuals and HEY it turns out i love them both on their own merit too WOWIE i love them theyre so good hey nishimura and kitamoto???? ARE GOOD

in conclusion i just....... they both meet this boy and think that he’s strange and quiet but they both give him a chance and accept him for who he is and it’s so good they are so so good this ep fuckin annihilated me thank FUCKING god it exists im gonna bask in it forever now holy shit thank u aaaaaaaAAAA

[chaos-caffeinated]

Emotions can help you remember Part 3 (Sebastian Michaelis x reader)

 Okay this is it, those words say everything you need to know, enjoy!

update: Oct/06/2020: To compensate for the part, I completed the story. 

Like I said -did I even say it?- I am an overachiever...and a sucker for plot

Not requested (Tagging @naniky​)

NSFW/T - 18+

Smut, lemon

One more thing: Do not forget I am not the only author, my brother and I share this blog for the sole reason of creating content together as well as maintaining an easy access to our stories. Just look under #caffeine for more stories from him, the media he does, previous works, requests/commissions/, and what he is willing to write and not write. 

Okay, NOW onto the story: Enjoy!

I wrote this part incredibly long that I just had to make another part, which will be uploaded in the next hour (October 31, 1pm). If you would like to be reminded, just click on the button on the top right corner (if mobile) and select “get notified”.

“Though it’s good, it’s not fluent enough. Again.” Sebastian ordered, his facial expression was laced with the strictness of his voice. His eyebrows were knitted behind his delicate oval glasses that were chained for easy access. He held a short whip that caught your attention each time he smack it onto his hand, sometimes wondering to ask him if it hurt to whip himself. 

Flinching from the sound, you involuntarily let out a whimper before gazing at the text before you, “Ce soir, je serai donné à l’obscurité, je n’ai que moi-même au prince des ténèbres. Oh Crow permettent à mon corps d’aider dans votre plaisir que votre vie s’est propagée avec la douleur que l’humanité comme elle l’a-a...a...^1” You felt burned out, your voice no longer being able to read off the text that Sebastian had you reading, emphasizing the importance of pronunciations. 

Sebastian, on the other hand, was enjoying the moment you were casting yourself off to him, simply smiling behind his façade of strict teacher. Once you finished your speech you would his for the night, but he flinched when you stuttered towards the end, his attention towards you made him realized you looked tired, “Sebastian...I’m sorry, but I...I am so tired...French is not my strength, I am so sorry.” You gazed downwards, too ashamed to even look at him in the eye. You felt the constraining corset shift underneath as you crossed your arms, disappointed at yourself.

Before he could sigh subtly, his brain had racked up the idea to try something. He smirked widely, his eyes glinting the mischief with the intertwined lust. 

“It is unfortunate, Miss. (L/N), but you have four days before the ball, and I’m sure you want Miss. Hopkins to be delighted upon your return without a language barrier, right?...”

“...Y-yes.” You confirmed, saddening at the fact that you may potentially be upsetting her. 

“Well then, I hope you realize I have a couple tricks under my sleeve, however, some may deem it as unorthodox because of its-” he used the thin stick in his hand to whip the desk, his free hand placed on the mahogany desk leaning over slightly, hovering over your body. Your head whipped upwards where you immediately came face to face with the handsome butler/tutor, to which your cheeks were tinted with a slight pink hue from the closeness between you. 

“Physicality.” He finished with a smirk, “Of course I need your permission, but time waits for no one my lady.” He adds as he rose the tip of baton from in-between your collarbones up to your chin with a light tap. You subconsciously tipped your head back lightly in response to the baton to which he responded with a subtle smirk. When you heard his sultry voice, you almost swore to hearing a purr at the end. 

Entranced by his proximity, you gulped subtly and let out your respond:

“Yes....Sebastian.”

“Then we shall start immediately.” And he closed in by pressing his lips against your lips, one second secure and passion, the next dominant and rough. You let out a soft meek as you were trying to push against him, but he was strong. You sensed he wanted more, hence why he was rough enough to lean you back. 

He removed himself, smirking and revealing the fang as he lick his lips lightly, “I hope you are ready, Miss. (L/N), for I am not lenient.” And he stood up, “Stand.” He commanded, raising the baton to visually represent his command as you obeyed. 

You watched as he made his way behind the desk, but you looked ahead as you were afraid of anything sudden.

He made his way to where you sat and the chair scraped along the floor. 

“Sit.” He ordered, and you sat down to an unfamiliar seat when you realized the firmness and slight shift underneath. You blushed as you realized you sat on his lap.

You trembled softly as you felt as he placed his hands on your hips as he adjusted both of you, “You will read and translate the words I point, if you fail, I will punish you accordingly. Ready?”

You nodded, “Yes, S-Sebastian.”

With a smug look, he pointed at a word of ease to get you comfortable. This went on for a couple dozens of words before he began to challenge you: adding feathery touches to your back, causing you to flinch. 

“And this one?...” He leant by your ear, his voice having a slight rasp as he ushered.

While his gloved finger lightly traced your back, your body shivering from the touch, your voice faltered from it, “Uhm...eh...p-plaisir^2...”

“A stutter, Miss. (L/N)? When the ball is in session, I’m sure you’ll have someone like this as well. You can’t be distracted with this simple touch.” He took his forefinger and traced down your spine, making your cheeks blush again from the vulnerability. 

“...S-so what’s my punishment, then?...” 

“You want to be punished? Hm~...I’ll speak two paragraphs in French and you’ll translate them.”

Groaning as you had trouble listening and understanding, you took a deep breath and sighed, “Fine...”

“Good. Now...Dès que je t’ai posé les yeux, j’ai étré enchanté par ta beauté. J’avais espéré que vous travaillions pour Mlle Hopkins, et vous avez fait votre preuves devant elle ainsi que le jeune maître; talentueux et belle, je te voulais. Je vous ai dans mes mains, votre cœur bat vite, votre corps est à la chasse d’eau- Je sais que vous me voulez tout aussi bien, et à tout moment vous vacillez dans vos leçons Français, je vais m’assurer que vous souvenez de mes mains, mon corps, ma voix. Vous ne m’oublierez jamais aussi bien que la belle langue de Français.^3“

You couldn’t concentrate while he was caressing your back. Images flashed in your mind and you were shy to even have them possessed into your brain. You were fantasizing about being fondled, his hands caressing in other places, to have your own hands running through his raven locks. You wanted it all. However, when he spoke you understood some wording, his distinct pronunciation brought the sense of familiarity which gave you the confidence to translate his message, making you blush in the process as you processed the message. 

The more you spoke, the more Sebastian grew with anticipation. As you finished, he had held your hip, without moving his digits and whispered into his ears, “Good, now for a reward. (Y/N). Tell me, are you in any way against of my teachings?”

“...N-no...” you shyly confessed, “Please...keep it going...I do believe it’s helping me.”

His smirk widen, enough to reveal the fangs, “Good.” He whispered, “Then from now on...nous parlons dans Français ^4.”

(From this point on, it will all be english, I promise. I just thought this was fun)

~

You let out a gasp when he rose his hands, groping your breasts as his lips grazed on the back of your shoulders; he let out whispers you were able to catch, only to respond with the same whispered voice. Each word he spoke out you would be given a kiss from his soft, yet rough lips onto your warm flesh. His hands lingered over your breasts, his fingers rubbing your clothed-areolas triggering them to harden. 

“Tell me how are you feeling, (Y/N). Describe it.” He pulled back his hands as he teasingly, irritatingly, slowly removed your dress to expose your soft skin to his greedy mouth and hands. He removed his gloves to expose his black nails and the Faustian contract that linked his current master and him as property as he was currently ready to devour a mortal body in front of him, “Tell me, (Y/N)...what do you want me to do to you?”

“I...I feel like...my skin is on fire, like I want more just to get rid of it, but...but I like it...I like the feeling of your hands on me...I never want it to stop... I know I want more, I want to feel you everywhere...” You let out shaky breaths as you tried to muffled your moans in, your chest heaving as you gazed down to see his right hand placed on your abdomen area and you gently grabbed it, leading it back to your breast. His touch alone was driving you wild, craving for more as you tried so hard to hold back; believing that you were strong only to fall back.  

Sebastian hummed in response, "Then so be it." Where his hands were located, he easily held you down while bucking his hips, earning a few mewls from you, and your head lulling back as your chest arched forward. You hated how your body betrayed your logical side, falling into the temptation that you thought you had handled, but it was only destroyed from his presence, from his words, from his eyes. 

He bunched up the skirt so your clothed womanhood would be pressed against his clothed bulge, your moaning raised slightly to place your hands on the top of the desk, immediately interrupting the craze. You were panting, you were blushing, you were craving for more of his hot touches that got your body to get tingles, “...It is overwhelming...how is it that your so good to get me so desperate like this?...You are like the devil everyone warns to stay away from...” You attempted to take control of your body again, but you felt something pressed against you as you not only felt a hand on your hip, but another placed in front by your hand. 

Sebastian was even more entranced, while you felt he was responsible for your craze, he blamed you for his craze towards you. Other people would feel guilt while in the bliss of pleasure, others feel a sense of betrayal for their partners, others feel used when the Head Butler of Phantomhive seemed to be intriguing enough to have his attention, but when there isn’t a direct order from Ciel to gather information, to get them to cooperate, he feels a sense of ferality since his interest is purely internal. His plans were to make you his; you can be feisty, you can be yourself, he was most amazed that a simple being such as yourself can manage to stir a demon with their core motivations. He just wanted you, but there were instances where he believed he was doing this because he was to be yours, and that did not sit well with him, which is why he would do everything to get you to submit to him first.

When Sebastian stood up, the chair sliding back, he pressed against you, "Are you scared of me?" He whispered into your ear, "Because I can assure you that even the devil can open your eyes to reality...” He taunts as he raised his hand to caress your exposed arm with his fingertips then grazing them with his black nails before placing on top of yours, interlacing with your fingers.

You whined desperately, turning your head slightly to glance at Sebastian who was smirking. Once again your flesh burned with passion as you feel him start discard your undergarments, the idea that you two were getting closer and closer to bond was filling you up with anticipation, with more shivers down your back. What surprised you was to see each piece of your dress in front of you as he asked you what they were called: he wanted you to continue to learn despite the situation you two were in.  

"What is this?" He asks as he takes off each material. You grunted as he was testing your French by having you name every single material. Each time he removed something he would ask you and it was getting annoying. It was torture, hell, trying so hard not rip anything apart to get closer to become one.

After what felt like an eternity of hell of torture, you were naked in front of him. You realized how vulnerable you were in the position, offering yourself to the Head Butler of the Phantomhives and that made you cower slightly. Trembling, you tried to close up when you felt two soft hands placed on your back.

"Such a magnificent body you have, it's no wonder why everybody else wants you. Beauty like this deserves to be shown off...,but at this moment, and moments like these...you are mine alone." He whispered to you only, his ushered tone had a growl towards the end, like a predator growling in victory towards its prey. His fingers trailed up your back to the nape of your neck and held it in place as the other groped your breast.

You wondered when he had the opportunity to unbuckle his pants, but you shivered once you felt the head of his cock rubbing against your clit, a wanton moan releasing as your body pressed against him almost out of instinct.

"Mmm, desperate for more?~" Sebastian teased as he smirked devilishly, holding you in place as he rejected to further your pleasure.

"Please....please, Sebastian." You begged, tearing up, "Please..." you panted as you swayed your hips in an attempt to tempt him further.

Sebastian smirked and remained like that only to hear and see you move less and less. You tried waiting patiently, tried, but you simply closed your eyes and imagined the scenarios that made you blush. As you imagine him, your thoughts were quickly interrupted as he guided you to bend over the desk as he held your hips, "Distracted yet again, Miss. (L/N), my my. You are one persistent student, aren't you?" He snapped his hips towards, his cock rubbing against your entrance which startled you, "Patience 'will get you anywhere and everywhere', my dear." He reminds you before he proceeded to enter.

As you stiffened from the pressure of his member stretching you, you let out a strained moan as your hands gripped the edge of the table. Even Sebastian groaned subtly as you tightened around him and he calmly rubbed your back in a soft manner, "...W-was...Was this your first time?" He caught his breath as he eased the thrusting by removing himself until the hilt.

You involuntarily let out a breathy moan as he returned, thrusting in a steady pace. Each thrust felt more good and pleasurable than the last before you your hips pressed back against him. You even arched your back as you press back to feel his hips slap against you. The pace was increasing ever slightly, his breaths were audible as he let out breathy moans with your vocal ones. He had an immense grip on your hips that bruises were going to appear, but you didn’t mind. You would have to deal with that in the near future, at the moment you getting taken care of very good by the butler. 

Sebastian let out a soft chuckle as he removed himself and proceeded to sit on the chair. You gasped and whined from frustration when you looked over your shoulder to see him sitting, his erection was resting against abdomen; the image alone was an unholy sight, for he had achieved his core motivation. 

The way his hand rolled over to curl his finger into a “come hither” motion made you and your body responded by flowing with his hand. You turned around and watched as he accommodated his sitting position for you to sit on him once again. Facing forward, you rested your knees beside his thighs and remained uplifted as you stared into his enchanting crimson red eyes. His smirk widen -his bloody smirk- as he leaned forward to nip at your flesh. His arms entangled you in an embrace, but he held you down; he had successfully trapped you fully, he had you, not the other way around he thought you intended. 

You took a deep breath as you felt him once more, but this time it felt different. The way he held you, the way he gazed into your eyes as your back arched and your head leaned back, mindlessly staring at the ceiling. He leaned forward once again only to lick at your mounds and made suckling motions over  your harden nipples. His right arm wrapped around your waist and held you down as he thrusted into you unexpectedly with a steady speed. 

Moaning and instinctively placing your hands through his raven locks, you tilted your head down only to look straight into his devilish eyes. He pulled away from your nipples as you tugged at his locks; his eyebrows twitched subtly as they furrowed slightly; lips were agape as he panted softly. There were sweat beads decorating his pale face as he let out soft moans, your blush darkening from the mysterious man himself, 

“Are you e-enjoying the view, Miss. (L/N)?” He asked in his best attempt of a flustered tone, “You’ve gone back to your head once again, and just how would you feel good if trapped in there?” He bucked his hips which made you buck your hips in response. He pulled your body at an angle which trigger a hyper vocal activity, even your hand left his hair to cover your own mouth, closing your eyes to sense him intensely than before.  There was an intense tingling sensation as your body took over control to reach their goal too. 

As the speed and pressure built up, you had the courage to not only sit back up, but wrap your arms around his neck, curving forward so your mouth latched onto his neck, biting into it as he stiffened from the sudden move. 

You had reached a point that you desperately wanted to increase the speed from how close you were, grinding against him; knowing him already, you were the one that had to obtain it instead of asking. 

Sebastian was completely thrown off guard from the bite, his nails puncturing your skin as he stood up with you in his arms and laid you on the top of the desk, his hands gripping on your thighs, bruises would be appearing in a while, but he didn’t care as he aid in your goal, “A naughty girl indeed..” He panted, his eyes darkening, “Marking me in such a way is unforgivable...now I have no choice to reciprocate your feelings-”

Before you can even comprehend his intentions, you felt a sharp pain on your shoulders, your back arched forward as you cried out in pain, “S-sebastia-”

A hand covered your mouth, your voice muffled as he moaned as well into your shoulder. 

As you came onto his girth member, he remained still as he tried to hold off, even his body shivered from the denial- the torture he put himself into when he purposely holds himself from pouring his pleasure into you. As your body shivered and bucked into the pleasure, you simply held onto him as you rode out your orgasm, the sensation of the building pressure continue to overwhelm, the feeling of pushing him off whilst holding him close was a dilemma. 

As your eyes closed, you can feel him shift, you hear the rustling of clothes in a quick, yet slow manner. Instead of the clothes, you focused on yourself: your legs slightly shaking, your chest heaving as you breathed heavily, your cheeks burning, your body freezing from the sweat that had gone out to refresh you from the hot man in front of you. 

Slowly, you opened your eyes to see him dressed up already. His deep red eyes maintained fixed on you as he fixed his tie, his smirk plastered on his facial features, “Miss. (L/N), I do believe the lesson over for now, I think it’s best for you to rest.” He offered his hand towards you while you just had come down from the high. You felt queasy, but it wasn’t it. No, you felt lighter, you felt fresh for some reason. Could the taboo act made you much bolder, could it have made you more experienced?

“...My dress.” You managed to croak out in English, your voice sounded hoarse and you blushed from embarrassment as your hand hovered over your mouth.

“Oh my...I think overstepped my boundaries a bit, my apologies my lady, I will prepare some tea to soothe your voice...We don’t want our lesson to go to waste.” He spoke in a matter-of-fact. You blushed as you averted your eyes from his as you nodded, “Y-yes...”

“Yes?” Sebastian’s eyebrow quirked slightly which you quickly corrected, “I mean, ‘Oui, monsieur’.” 

When you saw him smile in a satisfied manner, you nearly sighed in relief, but you were now flustered and quiet from the ‘lesson’ that he performed to help you learn French. Without a doubt it left an impression you, an act of intimacy and vulnerabilities in a lovemaking surely stirred things up to help you remember words -events- more effectively. 

While you were thinking, Sebastian helped you back in your dress, “I have to say, I didn’t know of such a strong bite from you, my lady. It was certainly an eye-opener.” He explained as he helped with a few items. When he got to the corset, he lifted you onto your  feet and turned you around, “Hopefully you don’t forget about our time like...this” he whispered as he guided his hands across your abdomen which you instinctively let out a breathy moan, “Y-yes...I’m sure I’ll never forget about the event...” you stabled yourself as he pulled on the corset only to make you gasp from how tight he was pulling. 

After a couple minutes, you both cleaned up the area and headed to your room to rest. Your voice felt raspy, nearly gone. When a surprise visit from Ciel caught your attention to ask about your lessons, Sebastian intervened for you, “I apologize young master, but realizing that Miss. (L/N) is tight on schedule for the ball, I had a trick under my sleeve to ensure she would capture the lesson, but...I believe I was too harsh on her.” He smirked lightly which you forced yourself to nod.

“...L-lost my voice a bit...” you confirmed, “But it’s not like a cup of tea won’t help.”

Ciel nodded slightly, glaring at Sebastian, “I’m sorry as well, I know Sebastian can be too rash with his studies, but if he does it again you can tell me. I’ll be in my office if needed- Sebastian, I want cake when you’re finished.” and he proceeded to walk to his study room. 

“Yes, my lord.” Sebastian responded before guiding you to his bedroom.

“Couldn’t have been more obvious?”, You bit as you rested your hand on your neck.

Sebastian chuckled behind his fist as he arrived to the room, opening the door for you, “If you wanted me to, I could have.”

“You really have no shame, Mr. Michaelis, but please...I ask that you keep this our secret...I don’t want you to get in trouble as well as I...” You asked of him as you entered the room to sit on the bed. 

Sebastian placed a hand over his chest as he leaned forward wit his eyes closed, “As you wish, I will keep it between us.” He stood up once again with his eyes open halfway. 

You smiled small as you leaned against your hands behind you, “You’re so...intriguing Sebastian. One moment you are a shadow, the next...uhm, you are almost a beast, and right after that you are....back to a shadow- how?...” You sat up, “I’m...beyond tired- very tired- and you are still up and going to complete your duties.”

Unnecessary to withhold his smirk, his half-lid eyes glanced on your way, “Your observational skills never cease to overwhelm me, Miss. (L/N), however..” his voice got more stern as he got closer, “ I have mentioned before that if you look into someone, you might regret it later, so I advise you my lady to keep at bay..”

The closer he got, the more you look up to stare into his eyes, challenging him, “Temptation rises when provoked, so I suggest you stop provoking me, Mr. Michaelis. Because we...intertwined in a forbidden act, you opened the doors to temptation, my... I even have to take care of myself in order to walk through those doors again...”

The corners of his lips curved slightly, Sebastian took your statement into consideration, but as entertained as he was to continue this conversation, his duties in the manor made him realize he had to cut it short, “I do have a few ways to cure that, my lady.” he suggested, his tone completely changed from the previous ominous tone to the mischievous one he possessed earlier. 

“Keep your tricks in your sleeve, please. I’m already exhausted from...your lesson there.” You huffed with a flustered face as you avoided eye contact once again. However, you failed to realize just how close he gotten. He reached out to your chin and pulled you close to him, “My lady, I have many tricks under my sleeve that I am not afraid to show you...four days is all I need.” He smirked darkly as he pulled away with a cheerful smile as he closed his eyes for the moment one again, “I will be right back with the tea as promised. In the meantime, please do relax and rest your voice...madam.” he added and proceeded to close the door behind him.

He left you speechless, knowing full well that his tricks were just promises ready to occur.

~

When Sebastian reached to the kitchen, he couldn’t help but rest against the door for a moment. After taking a deep breath, he chuckled darkly as he placed a hand over his face, “Sweet, sweet (Y/N), you drive me into a deep craze.” The hand hovered the side of the neck you bit him at. He was serious when he said you had a strong bite, and it wasn’t just that of muffling your moans. He strolled over to the counter and took out a knife to use as a mirror. He lowered his collar and managed to see a bruised bite-mark on his neck. His smirk widen and he clicked his tongue as he placed down the knife, “You’re a feisty one; I admire that.” He smiled darkly as he removed his coat to prepare the young lord his dessert. 

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~4 Days later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The music was soft and inviting, a subtle siren in your head to set the atmosphere of the ball. It was a slow drag from the violins which gave you strength to take a deep breath and walk forward to the crowd whom were laughing. 

Ciel was conversing with a man -the truth being the other way around-, commenting and opinionating of events that bore the young master to a tremendous level, but he remained to act as if he was in interest to the best of his ability to focus on capturing a special guest. When the nobleman excused himself after recognizing an acquaintance, Ciel called forward Sebastian who stood behind him, “Sebastian, keep an eye on Miss. (L/N) and anyone she is speaking with, there may be a chance that she’s talking with him at this moment-” as he gave him his order, Ciel spotted you with someone casually talking in French. He stood there slightly impressed at your proficiency and commented instead, “Miss. (L/N) has a lot of confidence with her French, she even looks different from before.” 

Sebastian smiled with his eyes closed as he respond, “Thank you my lord, it took a little more effort due to the time restraint, but additional teachings were added to ensure proficiency.”

Ciel eyed him for a moment, “Additional teachings? It didn’t involve something like close proximity did it?” He asked with a near disgust that his demon butler would go that far, but not surprised if he revealed the information. 

Placing a finger over his lips, Sebastian responded, “Miss. (L/N) has asked me not to disclose any information regarding our situation young lord, but that should already tell you.”

Ciel’s eyebrow twitched before releasing a sigh, “...Unfortunately, it did.” 

When he turned back to look at you, he audibly gasped when he didn’t see you there anymore, “Sebastian, track her.” He ordered  with a slight urgency in his voice, 

Bowing his head, Sebastian replied, “yes, my lord.” and he walked from his master to find you.

~

While the dynamic duo were talking, you were having a conversation with someone that was visiting a friend. It became so casual and so friendly that the two of you had walked over to the table to take a few pieces of snacks. 

His name was Jacque Arias, born into a family that dealt with the fabric industry in South France, you thought having a good friendship with him would help Miss. Hopkins with future business after you explained to him that you worked as a tailor for her. 

As you took a drink from your glass, he spoke: “I am so relieved to finally have something to go to, if I had to stay in the office one more night I would have gone insane.”

“So you like parties to distract yourself from work?”

He nods, “Yes, and to meet lovely ladies that could potentially be my future wife, like yourself.” He smiled small with a slight tilt of his head.

You blushed from hearing this, stiffening slightly, “Searching for a wife? Me? Surely you gist, sir. I am merely just a tailor intern.” You explain to him, ‘At least for the time being, I like having those small arguments with Sebastian,’ you admitted in thought. 

He reached forward to your hand only to caress, "A beautiful intern no less-...it maybe my imagination, but perhaps the party has tire me out. Shall we go somewhere more...silent? Somewhere we can be more intimate?"

You were ready to say no, already losing the interest of a business partner potential. If he wanted to marry you, for some reason you felt it was your choice to choose, and you wanted to choose someone that perhaps wasn't necessarily available to be taken, and you responded, "I don't want to offend you, but-"

He took your hand in his and lightly started guiding you out, "Then let's enjoy nature together." He suggested, "I...I don't-" You glanced around to see the mysterious man himself offering glasses to the guests, but he also glanced at your way. You noticed the faint smirk before he tilted his head forward, 'Go.' You felt him say before he went back to attend with the rest of the guests.

Almost feeling your body going light, you then followed the man ahead of you with a light smile.

It was chilly, your skin shivered to make some warmth, "Are you cold? I'll call up my carriage." He offered as he took off her coat, "In the meantime, here." He placed the coat over your shoulders, "I'll be right back." And he walked with a rushed speed.

You were surprised to see his nice side as he was going to get the carriage. You were suddenly curious about taking his offer, but you wanted to reject by the interaction at the table. Giving him the second chance to see him truly, you decided to wait outside than inside where it was warm.

~

Waiting patiently for a couple minutes, you felt your body shiver once again, but you subconsciously glanced around. You felt like someone was staring at you- stalking you. It felt uneasy for you, your hands tightening the coat around your body while you made your way back to the manor so you would at least be with someone before you spotted someone in pitch black. You almost called out his name until your eyes widen at the revelation.

While the ball was still in place and everyone was blissful at the moment, with the earl holding in his disinterest in people and balls overall, Sebastian kept a close connection with you. He immediately recognized the man you were with and knowing how humans seemed to be believe they were mated with one intense session, he just had to play the role of the silent lover, granting the permission for you to be with the next chaperone, 

The atmosphere was filled with a wave of chattering, the laughter whether genuine or filled with arrogance, Sebastian could listen to all with depth. He listened to the piece played by the string quartet and multi-task with his butler duties. Suddenly, he heard a change in the quartet, a new piece was to be played and he listened.

The violins and violoncello were stroked rapidly in the next piece that it threw people off guard. They were not expected such an allegro tempo from the players: notes raised, dropped, the moments of silence, the notes raising a subtle anxiety from the audience even Sebastian felt it. He felt the anxiety, he felt -for a moment- his heart beating faster and faster and he turned to glance at the young master only for him to just watch the quartet as well. In that instant, he heard your panting with his demonic ears, it was the only thing that stand out from the silent crowd and the musicians ahead of him. 

He strolled to the head of the family and bent over at his height only to whisper by his ear to prohibit eavesdropping. While Ciel watched ahead, his full attention was for the demon. 

“Sebastian, I order you to find him and bring both of them back here after the ball.” He ordered with the ushered tone as the butler replied: “Yes, my lord.” before smirking at the slight liberation in his current state.   

Previous Part/ Final Part 

~Translations~

1: Tonight I will be given to the darkness, I have but myself to the prince of darkness. Oh Crow allow my body to help in your pleasure as your life has been done with the pain that humanity as it (cut out: brought/ apporté.)

2:Pleasure

3: “Good Now...”The moment I laid my eyes on you, I was enchanted by your beauty. I had hoped you worked for Miss. Hopkins, and you proved yourself in front of her as well as the young master; talented and beautiful, I wanted you.

I have you in my hands, your heart is beating fast, your body is flushing- I know you want me just as well, and at any moment you falter in your French lessons, I will make sure  you remember my hands, my body, my voice. You will never forget me as well as the beautiful language of French is in your possession.”

4. we will speak in French

A/N: Tell me why I spent over 45 minutes searching the music sheet for the Diabolic Waltz and Danse Macabre (Can you blame me? It’s amazing work.) only to confirm or learn from parts where in the music because I am an overachiever and I go all out when I attempt to describe the music without being “the music played louder” come on, I didn’t spend two years in the marching band and be discriminated for being a woman and a semester in Music Appreciation in college for NOTHING- TEMPO, FORTE (Brother save me, this is my call for you to save me, this has gone way too far even for my own sake).

P.S. I am saying it again: Do not forget about my brother, Caffeine, he makes exclusive and waaaaay better stories than I. Just look under #caffeine for more of his content as well as a list of the media he covers for any requests/commissions.

[nose-bandaid]

a hug per dollar

hello! it's me, the platonic anon from before... may i request a non-romantic, changgu & gender-neutral reader, coffee/study date? and maybe you could work in a reassuring hug 🥺 thank you so much 💛

Yeo One (Changgu) x (gender neutral) Reader | Platonic fluff + comfort?! | 1.8k words

synopsis: overworking can sometimes be an easy, but terrible habit to fall into, but luckily, changgu is there to drag you out when you do.

a/n: lol i think i projected this to have 1.2k but it ended up with 1.8 but i am not complaining !!!! to my dear platonic anon, sorry this took so long ksdhfkdsj i hope you enjoy it !! i may or may not have done an uno reverse on stud.hui.o fanatic because now it is the reader who's overworking BAM 💛

=====

"Don't you think we've been here for long enough?"

Your hand stopped writing the flurry of notes and you looked at your friend, who peered back at you over his laptop. "Changgu, it's literally only been..."

You flipped your phone over to look at the time on its display and faltered when you realized just how late into the day it was. "I guess we have been here for a while."

"Which is exactly why I think we should—"

"But I'm not ready to leave yet!" You snapped back, immediately backing off when you realized how harsh your voice was.

"You didn't get much sleep last night, did you?" He pressed on and you buried your face back into the piles of work laid in front of you.

"We don't talk about that either."

He let you be and the two of you went back to working in silence for the next while until Changgu eventually got up from his seat. Your eyes followed him as he stretched and let out a sigh. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom."

"Okay." You replied, and returned to your work.

=====

Not long after, a juice box slid into your view and you looked up at Changgu who returned after his bathroom break that took much longer than a usual bathroom break would've taken. You quirked an eyebrow in his direction.

"You got juice from the bathroom?"

He laughed and you took note of the other juice box in his hand — the exact same flavour as yours. "Of course I did. They added vending machines in the bathroom recently, didn't you know that?"

You decided to play along. "Is that so? No, I didn't know that. But do enlighten me as to why you would ever trust a vending machine located in the bathroom."

He laughed at your small jest. "Nah, I just went on an adventure to grab us some fuel." He dropped back into his seat and let out a relieved hum as he stared at his laptop. "After finishing that stupid essay I think I deserved the treat."

"You know, if you're done working you can always head back first. I'm fine on my own."

He shook his head adamantly at your offer. "This is our study session, you know? It's a we thing," he emphasized that with a point to the table. "So I'm not leaving until you're also done."

You sent him a small smile in appreciation and returned to your textbook, taking a small sip from the juice box as you did. It was refreshing and in the back of your mind, you wondered how he knew this was your favourite flavour. You didn't recall ever telling him.

"Though I think you've done more than enough work for today."

You didn't miss the next thing he muttered quietly.

"Look, Changgu, I'll just finish this chapter and we can call it today, okay?" You desperately held up a finger to assist in your pleading.

"One chapter and one chapter only." He reluctantly gave in, deciding to get a head start on another assignment in the meanwhile. Once again, you settled back into a comfortable silence, listening to the distant voices of others in the library.

You ended up finishing that chapter quicker than you initially thought you would and it flared up a new flame of determination within you. You could cram in a few more chapters then, right? You'll get them done in no time, especially with the flow you had now.

Agreeing with yourself, you got started right away.

You're pretty sure Changgu noticed when you flipped the page again.

And again.

And again.

Surely he's noticed the way you're slouched over a bit more now, the way your eyes were drooping and your gaze became unfocused. The way you've hardly touched the bag of snacks since he opened it. But you kept on going. Your determination knew no limits and you kept on going despite all the rational part of you that screamed at you to stop.

...Now, where did you leave off before you started daydreaming?

Right, at the end of this paragraph. You returned to staring at the mundane words in the textbook. You swore you were almost finished with this page but you also told yourself that what felt like hours ago. No matter how many times you read the same sentence over and over again, the words never seemed to stick in your mind. Your hand couldn't figure out what to write and what to leave out. All of it seemed important and you cursed the way your next exam weighed so much and yet gave you such vague preparation instructions. If only you had started studying earlier... but wasn't one week enough? Maybe you just weren't fit for this? Probably, because —

Changgu placed his hand onto yours. He gently pulled the pen out of your grasp and gestured for you to look at him.

"Let's take a break, you have no say in it. Seeing you like this makes me exhausted, I can't take this anymore."

No matter how many times you've drilled into your mind that it was absolutely not okay to take a break, the moment you heard the words from someone else, your composure crumbled.

You let out a deep sigh and let your weight rest on the table. "Yeah let's."

Changgu helped you pack your work away after cleaning up his own and waited until you were fully ready. When you slid the chair back to its former home, he held out a hand for you to take and you happily took a place by his side.

"Are you going to take me on another adventure?" You playfully asked, already feeling a little better now that your work was tucked away.

He shrugged. "Honestly, I had no clue where I was going to take you 'cause I didn't think you'd actually stop studying. But sure! Let's make this an adventure."

Stepping outside, you realized how much nicer it was to have a change of scenery. It was already late afternoon, the sun shining brightly above, engulfing you in a pleasant kind of warmth.

You sighed inwardly, this would've been more relaxing if your mind would just stop drifting back to all the work you still to be done. Hadn't you done enough? You worked so hard for the past who-knows-how-many-hours and yet it only left you unsatisfied and even more stressed.

Maybe it just wasn't enough.

A gentle bop on your head brought you out of your thoughts and you stared at Changgu, his hand still raised from bonking your bad thoughts away.

"Stop thinking so much." He crossed his arms and looked at you pointedly.

"Huh?"

Squinting his eyes, his face leaned into yours, getting closer and closer, and you found yourself edging away from the intrusion. Just as quickly as it started, he suddenly disappeared, straightening his back again and letting out a huff.

"Just as I thought."

"What?" You asked again, still lost.

"You're thinking bad things about yourself again! Stop that."

"How did you know?"

He playfully punched your shoulder at that. "I'm your best friend, you think I wouldn't notice these things? You always have this expression on your face when you're beating yourself up. Looks kinda stupid."

Your mouth gaped at his remark. "Hey!'

"I'm kidding, you never look stupid," he smiled and continued. "But what is stupid is you thinking that you're not good enough because you can't keep up with everything that's going on. Can you really blame yourself if some uncontrollable force decided to dump an unreasonable amount of work on you all at once? You're doing your best, which is one, really paying off because I swear you've covered like a billion chapters today. And two, is extremely cool — I heard the group studying behind us gush about how hard you were working and guess what?"

"...What?" You asked hesitantly, still trying to recover from your friend's spiel.

Changgu grabbed your shoulders to keep your attention. "I also think you're really really cool!!" He announced loudly, capturing the attention of a mother and her daughter nearby. They walked away after the initial surprise.

Your lip trembled, not even having it within you to be embarrassed by his public confession. Instead, you were overwhelmed by his kindness. "Changgu..."

He pulled you into a hug and you basked in his presence. The faint smell of fresh laundry lingered on his hoodie and you melted into his comfort. "You're doing great, and you'd be doing even better if you let yourself breathe for a moment. As overwhelming as it may feel, the only thing that's going to bring you down is yourself if you keep on going at this rate — not your work." He gently scolded before he pulled away and cupped your face, eyes boring into yours.

"Got that?"

You nodded hesitantly. "Yes."

"I don't know... that wasn't really convincing..."

You laughed lightly and pushed his hands away from you. "I got it, I got it, Changu. Thank you so much." You found yourself much more relaxed after your talk. "From studying with me to buying me snacks and comforting me... aargh, I appreciate it."

Changgu simply gave you a bright smile. "Anything for you."

That was all he said, but those 3 words were enough to express just how much you meant to each other.

"Besides, I don't think of it as a chore, any time spent with you is great."

You pouted. "You're too good for me, seriously. How can I make it up to you?"

In all honesty, you expected him to dismiss the question, but instead, Changgu's eyes wandered off as he placed a finger on his chin. "Well, I did notice that my favourite drink is on sale when I passed by that cafe on the way here..."

You sent him an amused look. "The juice wasn't enough?"

"Are you telling me to pass on a sale that takes a whole dollar off?"

Once again, you found yourself playing along with his act and your eyes widened. "Oh geez, you're right, we can't miss out on that." Pushing Changgu from behind, you ushered him forward. "Let's get moving! We spent so much time in the library the shop's going to close by the time we get there."

Changgu chuckled as you caught up and fell into step with his movements. "I'm glad to see that you're back to normal."

"And I'm glad we get to save a buck on overpriced drinks. Thanks for everything, Changgu." You swiftly replied and he sent a smile your way.

"Anytime."

[drarry-we-meet]

Valentine’s Day Sucks

Part 1

Draco grit his teeth as another wave of ooohs and ahhhs sounded across the small collection of cubicles. He tried to ignore the outbreak of distinctly feminine chatter and focus on the report he was currently writing. After reading the same paragraph three times, he was finally able to get back into the flow of things. He was halfway through drafting his next sentence when a loud bang followed by assorted squeals and giggles broke out, and he couldn’t help but sneak a peek.

Longbottom was currently surrounded by a cloud of glittering pink smoke that smelled strongly of roses, and there on his desk was a humongous box of chocolates. Draco sighed, he was more than ready for this Valentine’s Day nonsense to be over with. It was bad enough hearing all the witches in his department cooing like a pack of wild doves each time one of them received a flower delivery, which of course was every few minutes. But to make matters worse, this year the wizards seemed to be getting just as many gifts thanks the Wheezes new ad campaign which insisted that witches must also get soppy romantic trinkets for their gents.

Draco would have admired such a brilliant marketing strategy, that had surely doubled their profits this year, if it didn’t cause him to have double the annoyance at the same time. While the witches gifts were more traditional and quiet; flowers, chocolate, jewelry. The men’s gifts were far sillier; singing heat shaped telegrams that burst into miniature fireworks at the end of their song, stuffed bears that did cartwheels across desks before exploding into a shower of confetti, and large boxes like Longbottom’s that went off like a bomb, leaving behind chocolates once the smoke had cleared.

Of course it didn’t help matters that Draco knew he wouldn’t be receiving anything this year. It wasn’t that he was alone, at least not technically. He had been seeing, or at least sleeping with, Harry-savior-of-the-whole-fucking-wizarding-world Potter, for just over 4 months. Not that it counted though, probably. They had never discussed whether or not what they were doing was exclusive. For Draco it was, and he was fairly certain it was for Harry as well, seeing how he barely had any free-time as Deputy Head Auror and all. But a lack of time to see other people, and actually wanting to date someone were two very different things.

Case in point was the Mountain of gifts that Draco could see steadily growing in the office across the room filled with their cubicles. Witches and wizards from all over the world sent Harry gifts each holiday, but this one always seemed to be the worst. Two curse breakers were currently stationed in the room sorting, screening, and vanishing questionable gifts, while Harry himself was still out meeting with the muggle liaison of Interpol for some reason or another. He wasn’t due to return until Monday, and by then his office would be clear once again.

The safe candy was set aside to be distributed to various departments in the ministry, particularly those inconvenienced the most by this whole fiasco; the mailroom, the janitors union, the curse breakers, and of course the aurors. All of the mail was piled neatly for his secretary to review. The majority of it would be vanished of course, but a few of the most polite ones would be answered eventually.

In fact, now that Draco thought about it, his willingness to always be available to Harry no matter how last minute or weird the hour was, in order to be able to see Harry in between his many meetings and trips abroad might be the only reason Harry even bothered with him at all. It was that thought, paired with the reminder that so far whatever ‘this’ was between them had remained a carefully guarded secret from even their closest friends, that caused a sharp clenching pain inside his gut. Draco determinedly pushed all thoughts of the idiot-who-lived far from his mind and tried once again to focus on work.

By lunchtime, the continuous loud bangs and rose scented smoke that accompanied them, had the beginnings of a migraine forming behind Draco’s eyes. He decided to escape the ministry for a bit and get some fresh air at the cafe across the street. He had just finished, and stood up to don his coat when a shadow appeared across his desk. He looked up into the sneering faces of Zacharias Smith, his well-endowed girlfriend, and a couple of brand new trainees whose names he didn’t care to remember.

"I was just about to head to lunch Smith so whatever it is you need will have to wait till after I return,” Draco kept his most impassive face in place, but his voice was firm. He knew the only thing Smith wanted was to start trouble and he wasn’t in the mood for any of it.

Smith smirked, “I just wanted to ask you where your Valentine’s Day gift was," he asked with a faux sweet voice.

That threw Draco for a loop for a minute, “What are you talking about?"

Smith and his group immediately started laughing, Draco wasn’t sure what the hell they found so funny or why on earth they were asking him about Valentine’s gifts of all things.

Smith’s smile had only gotten wider, “Well Malfoy, he emphasized, maybe it has escaped your notice, but you’re the only person in the entire department, possibly even the entire ministry who hasn’t received even one measly card.”

Draco could feel his heart rate picking up, but he hadn’t lived with old-moldyfarts for nothing, and was able to keep his face blank and posture relaxed. Smith was just getting warmed up though, pointing out how ‘of course’ they shouldn’t be so surprised that he hadn’t received anything, since he was death eater scum and all. By this point they were attracting the attention of the rest of the office.

Draco could see out of the corner of his eye that Granger was heading their direction, but Draco would rather die than have someone he once allowed to be tortured in his house defend him from a spineless git like Smith.

Draco carefully rolled his eyes and shook his head at Smith, “is that really the best you could come up with today Zachary?” Because he knew how much Smith hated people using the shorter form of his name, "you must be having just such a fulfilling Valentine’s Day yourself if you would rather spend all your time talking to me than your girlfriend, what are you 12?” He then swept out of the office before Smith could reply or Granger could reach them.

He was waiting down the hall for the lift when a fierce grip grabbed his arm and spun him around. It was Smith’s girlfriend, and Draco was fairly shocked to be manhandled by her. She, unlike her slimy boyfriend, had always seemed like a genuinely nice person. However her face right now was twisted in fury.

"No one will ever love you," she spat. "You can look down on us all you want, but in the end you will be a bitter old man and die alone. You don’t even have any friends!” She spun on her heel and left then.

Draco was left reeling in the hallway, his vision swimming a bit and his breathing a bit too fast and shallow. As the room came back into focus he locked eyes with Granger. Of course she had followed him out into the hall, of course she’d probably seen the whole thing. Fuck. The lift chimed and Draco stumbled back into in, jamming the door close button to stop her from pursuing him any further. He knew that look, that look of pity, and it made him sick to his stomach.

Draco ended up skipping lunch, he walked aimlessly around the nearest park until his face and fingers were numb with cold despite his gloves and warming charms. The words, “no one will ever love you,” played on endless repeat in his head as he fought to direct his thoughts toward anything else. He didn’t know why he let their words get to him like that, he didn’t give a shit what Smith or his girlfriend thought.

But the words had cut him to the bone, mainly because it was a very real fear he had held onto since the end of the war. His friends had all fled the country after the trials, some even before, and his dating life had been pretty nonexistent for the last 6 years. Nothing they had said was technically wrong. The men Draco had been with were ok with fucking him as long as no one ever found out. He just wasn’t the type of person anyone could ever take home to meet their parents.

And Draco had been ok with that, or so he thought. Relationships were just messy, unnecessary. Until Harry. Harry was the first man Draco had ever been with who took him to dinner, (at muggle restaurants), who always spent the night, who held him after sex, who made breakfast for him the morning after. Harry made him watch muggle films on his couch while giving him neck rubs or foot rubs and always made sure he had Draco’s favorite tea on hand. By the second month Draco had begun to think that maybe, just maybe they were something more than just sex.

But then one day they had been interrupted mid-foreplay by one of Harry’s friends visiting unannounced, and Harry had quickly shoved Draco into the closet and told him to be quiet. Draco had died a little inside that day. It was an unspoken agreement after that. Draco was a secret, a dirty little secret, just like always.

Draco returned to the office a few minutes late, half frozen and despondent, but as always he didn’t let any of it show on his face. He had considered skiving off the rest of the day, but wouldn’t give Smith the satisfaction of knowing he’d gotten under his skin.

He buried himself in his work and carefully ignored any whispers or glances he felt come his way, but he was still attuned enough to the atmosphere of the room to notice as everyone was wrapping up their tasks at the end of the day and loudly discussing their romantic plans for the evening, when a ripple of silence suddenly overtook the room. It was so quiet and still that Draco looked up, wondering if everyone had somehow been stupefied simultaneously.

His jaw dropped as his eyes met green. Harry was standing just in front of his desk looking so very fit in his deputy head uniform. His brass buttons shining, his hair tousled just right, his brilliant eyes unobstructed since he’d finally ditched his horrid specs long ago. He was holding a garment bag in one hand and the biggest bouquet of long stemmed roses in the other. They were wrapped in white silk with a dark red bow, each petal had gold filigree on the edges.

"Are you ready to go darling?” He asked with a warm and inviting face, a fair bit of mischief in his eyes.

Draco, who had no idea what was going on, but was pretty sure he must have passed out from all the fumes and was dreaming just nodded.

Harry smiled brightly and laid the garment bag over Draco’s desk. "Well that’s good," Harry said, handing the roses to Draco, who took them dazedly, "Hermione told me you were too busy to pick up your suit today, so I went ahead and got it for you. We don’t have much time until the Portkey to Paris leaves so we’ll need to hurry home and change. I don’t think Le Cinq will let us in without the formal wear.

Draco who had decided he was definitely dreaming, simply nodded again and stood. Harry wasted no time walking around the desk to meet him. He placed a chaste, but lingering kiss on his lips, grabbed the bag and steered Draco toward the door with a warm hand on the small of his back.

The entire trek to the doors no one moved, Draco wasn’t sure any of them were even breathing. He wasn’t sure he was even breathing. Harry had just publicly outed them. Every face in the room was stricken with shock, except for Hermione who smiled at them both and Ron who gave him a curt nod. Draco realized neither of them were surprised. They know, he thought, oh gods they already know. He looked at Harry again and Harry gave him another dazzling smile and kiss on the cheek.

As soon as they were outside the doors a cacophony of noise sounded behind them and Harry turned to wink at Draco, but instead of heading toward the lifts, he simply wrapped his arm more firmly around Draco’s waist and apparated them on the spot.

-gift for @mothermalfoy

Link to Part 2:  https://drarry-we-meet.tumblr.com/post/190868463275/valentines-day-sucks-warning-this-2nd-half

[rissynicole]

Any suggestions for writing dialogues? I mean, when it comes to punctuations and actions the characters perform.

Okay, this ask has been in my inbox for months at this point, and I've been saving it because 1) I wanted to write something meaningful and 2) I didn't know what I could write that hasn't already been said ad nauseam by other writers. I still don't know if anything I say will be particularly groundbreaking, but I'll try to be helpful. Keep in mind, I'm a young writer, myself. I'm still learning new things every day, and I'm far from a guru in the field.

This got long, so I’m going to put it under the cut:

The first thing I did was ask my mother this question, because I was interested in hearing her answer. She doesn't write fiction, herself, but she has been in the editing game for 30 some-odd years. She edits fiction for Harper Collins Publishing and has an eye for these things. However, her answer to this was very plain and simple. 

She said, "All editing and punctuation exists to serve one key purpose: to not confuse the reader."

As far as grammar goes, that's the main goal. I was looking for something a little more hard and fast--some sort of rule in a style guide--and y'know, I'm sure there is a rule out there. But in a fairly fluid world of fiction writing and "rules are meant to be broken" mentalities, the most important thing to heed is the comprehension of your reader. As soon as you’ve confused your reader, you’ve made a mistake. Not a failure--but a mistake that needs to be fixed. I’ve made them; I’ve fixed them. Dialogue can be a particularly tricky area, because it’s like a minefield for these mistakes. 

I’ll add an example of my dialogue and break it down a little bit:

‘“Soldier?’ Red said, interrupting the beginning of another gushing tirade.

Larb's grin faded a bit around the edges as he glanced up. ‘…Yes?’

‘Just remember: you're walking a very thin line.’

His eyes dropped back down to the controls. ‘Yes, my Tallest… It won't happen again.’”

First and foremost, it should be clear who is speaking. I help this along by making sure the characters’ actions are in the same paragraph as their speech. It keeps it more comprehensive. Otherwise, it would read like this: 

‘“Soldier?’ Red said, interrupting the beginning of another gushing tirade.

Larb's grin faded a bit around the edges as he glanced up. 

‘…Yes?’

‘Just remember: you're walking a very thin line.’

His eyes dropped back down to the controls. 

‘Yes, my Tallest… It won't happen again.’”

Not completely indecipherable, but distracting enough to make the reader re-read it a few times. As far as formatting goes, it’s also not very pretty. Now, I’m not perfect with this. In fact, I still need to go through Parade and reformat some sections that might read like the above. However, it is a readability rule that I’m trying to follow more closely. 

Another difficulty with ensuring you’re making it clear who’s speaking can be the use of pronouns. I’ll be the first to admit, writing with multiple characters who all use the same pronouns can be incredibly difficult. You can’t always just use “he said” as a tag. It’s too easy to hit a snag where the reader gets confused and doesn’t know who “he” is. 

‘“Soldier?’ he said, interrupting the beginning of another gushing tirade.

His grin faded a bit around the edges as he glanced up. ‘…Yes?’

‘Just remember: you're walking a very thin line.’

His eyes dropped back down to the controls. ‘Yes, my Tallest… It won't happen again.’”

Sure, maybe this short passage isn’t so bad; It’s still fairly clear who’s speaking. But imagine if the entire book was that way: three, maybe four characters in the same room who all use he/his pronouns speaking without any further identification. It would get confusing and distracting. Lots of reading passages over again to try to decipher who is saying what and lots of frustration on the reader’s part. At the same time, always using the characters’ names can be tedious and unnecessary. Finding a good balance isn’t always easy, but it is worth it. 

The golden rule, for me, is exactly as my mother said: “Do not confuse the reader.”

Below, I’ll add some additional dialogue tips I have picked up:

Constantly adding a tag can get tedious. 

‘“Soldier?’ Red interrupted, cutting off the beginning of another gushing tirade.

Larb's grin faded a bit around the edges as he glanced up. ‘…Yes?’ he inquired.

‘Just remember: you're walking a very thin line,” Red replied.

His eyes dropped back down to the controls. ‘Yes, my Tallest… It won't happen again,’” he muttered. 

Sure, this makes sense. It’s clear who’s speaking. But it also doesn’t read as smoothly. Not to mention, the overabundance of different transitive verbs (interrupted, inquired, muttered), is stilted and almost mechanical in how the dialogue reads. Oftentimes, “said” is perfectly fine. Fun words like “muttered” and “interrupted” are great, too, but in moderation. Finding a happy medium can make all the difference. 

Sometimes, a tag isn’t necessary at all. 

This segues into my next piece of advice: it’s important to write dialogue in a way that still allows the reader to use their imagination. This is where I’ll go off on a bit of a rabbit trail, because this is something I’ve had to learn for myself recently. 

Put trust in your reader to make up their own mind on how dialogue is spoken

I recently finished reading On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft by Stephen King (which, regardless of your opinions on King, was a very helpful book. I enjoyed it a lot). In one passage, he tells the reader to imagine an orange sitting on a table. Just that. He doesn’t give any further details. There is a 100% chance that we are all going to see something different in our minds. We are going to imagine a different table, a different room, and maybe even a different orange.

Sometime, description helps. Sometimes, a carefully placed lack of description lets the reader make up their own mind and encourages imagination. This advice has served me well in writing dialogue. I know it’s a tired old saying in any writer’s workshop: “never use adverbs in dialogue!” And to be honest, I still believe there can be a time and a place. But relying heavily on adverbs doesn’t do anything for the reader, except maybe shoehorn them into a state where they have to re-read dialogue with the new inflection. 

‘“Soldier?’ Red said solemnly, interrupting the beginning of another gushing tirade.

Larb's grin faded a bit around the edges as he glanced up. ‘…Yes?’ he asked weakly. 

‘Just remember: you're walking a very thin line,” he replied sternly, in a flat monotone. 

His eyes dropped back down to the controls. ‘Yes, my Tallest… It won't happen again,’ he said lowly, almost inaudibly. 

Again, this feels stilted, and doesn’t really leave anything to the imagination. 

To better emphasize what I mean by this, I want to use a real example of it in action. (I hope you don’t mind, @sunnymelonpan!) Shortly after I read this advice and starting cutting down on over-describing dialogue and using adverbs, I wrote some IZ sickfic prompts. A friend of mine decided to draw up a comic based on one of them. This was not only incredibly flattering, but unexpectedly enlightening. I was able to see firsthand how other readers interpreted my dialogue. And lemme tell you, it wasn’t always exactly how I had envisioned it. 

Here’s some dialogue I wrote for the prompt in question:

“Dib swiped the thermometer from him and pushed his glasses up his nose while he read it. ‘That’s because it isn’t going down. Huh.’

‘S-some help y-y-you are,’ Zim sneered.

‘Hey, give me a break. I’m doing my best. This isn’t exactly how I wanted to spend my weekend.’

Dib’s outline rose to its full height in Zim’s dimmed living room. He disappeared into the kitchen with the thermometer, then returned with something else in his hands. Without any warning, he placed it onto Zim’s forehead, scowling at the death glare he received in return.”

When I wrote this, I personally imagined Dib acting and speaking in a sort of annoyed, deflated way. Like he wasn’t really taking Zim’s harsh words seriously. Just a sort of eye-roll “yeah, whatever, Zim,” demeanor.  That’s how I saw it. 

This is how Sunny saw it: 

In Sunny’s comic, Dib is genuinely angry. He gets annoyed, stands up, and actually berates Zim with these words. 

I never made it clear how Dib spoke this line. Some people might look at this and say I failed as a writer because I didn’t explicitly say that Dib’s line was more casual than angry. I disagree. I left it up to the reader to interpret it as they chose. And Sunny surprised me by interpreting it in a way that was different. Not wrong! Just different. I positively loved seeing Sunny’s interpretation of my prompt. It let me see my writing in the eyes of others; it showed me that I was able to describe scenes while still allowing my readers to use their imaginations. 

As a fiction writer, it is not my job to be a stagehand and tell the reader every minute detail of the scene I’m writing. Instead, it is my job to guide them through the story and allow them to envision parts of the story as they see fit. This is especially true with dialogue. 

So let’s go back to the original excerpt from Parade that I was using as an example: 

‘“Soldier?’ Red said, interrupting the beginning of another gushing tirade.

Larb's grin faded a bit around the edges as he glanced up. ‘…Yes?’

‘Just remember: you're walking a very thin line.’

His eyes dropped back down to the controls. ‘Yes, my Tallest… It won't happen again.’”

In this passage, I tried to apply all these rules: 

Make it clear who’s speaking.

Use tags sparingly. Sometimes, “said” works just fine.

Use adverbs sparingly and don’t fall over yourself trying to describe everything. 

The dialogue flows smoothly, it is clear who is speaking, and the reader can decide how it’s being spoken. Is Red angry? Impatient? Completely void of emotion in his words? Is Larb scared out of his wits? Trying to keep up a facade of bravery? Who knows! I sure don’t! I’m just the writer! It’s up to YOU to decide.

So... yeah! I know my advice wasn’t particularly groundbreaking, but I hope it was an interesting read, nonetheless. 

[ashintheairlikesnow]

The Night Oliver Branch Died

CW: Drowning, threats with a gun, discussed/referenced noncon of a minor, discussed pet whump/dehumanization, oliver branch is gross but hey he dies in this one so, related note: character death

Tagging Chris’s crew just because I feel like you’ll all appreciate this:  @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @stxckfxck , @slaintetowhump

READERS: Tell me if you guessed it before reading this!

TIMELINE: Takes place in the future of Chris’s timeline, when he has been free for years and has enrolled in college.

The night Oliver Branch died was absolutely ordinary.

He spent some time going over the notes for the trial, sitting in his nicely appointed but perfectly modest three-bedroom home, scanning his handwritten planned remarks for the press while he ate a light dinner of soup and salad. The cook left for the night, and Oliver was the only one in the house.

Well, or so he thought.

It used to bother him, but honestly he didn’t mind the solitude any longer. Years spent with a full staff, worries he had to constantly consider at all hours of the day and night, natural disasters and economic downturns and everything else. It was nice just to take a deep breath, smell the candle burning in the center of the table, a soft sweet magnolia smell that reminded him of his childhood home.

After the trial, perhaps he would move back home. He’d lived in this state for twenty-four years, was its governor for eight of them, but he felt… a bit tired of it all. He wanted to go back to a place where people moved more slowly, wandered the streets after church in pale linen suits in the summer with the ocean air a constant truth of everyday life.

They would know, of course, about his disgrace. But they would be polite about it, keep it to themselves. He had the sense that while the scandal would follow him, it would be easier to ignore in a place where people keep their secrets safely behind closed, locked doors.

Oliver had done the same, once upon a time, only to have the secret simply walk away when someone else opened the door. 

He sighed, sitting back, looking at his half-finished soup with a wistful sort of sadness. 

Honestly, he couldn’t complain. He was just grateful to be out of prison, living in his own house with his own cook and the cleaning woman who comes by twice per week. Almost back to normal. Once this trial was over, of course, he’d sell the house and move back home, and it would all be just fine.

He took a deep breath and picked up his notes, handwritten in a series of different ink colors to differentiate which part of the speech he was in. It helped him to memorize if he thought of the colors. The only one he didn’t like, but used, anyway, was a deep teal ink in the paragraph where he admitted to what he did to his beautiful boy.

His beautiful boy, who had ruined himself with freedom, just as Oliver had always known he would. Some people were meant to be kept, they could not be trusted to keep themselves. His Baldur had been one of those, he had known the moment he’d been shown the intake photo, of the pretty boy curled up in a corner of a plain white room, hands up over his face in some attempt to protect himself.

We believe this will suit your specifications, the email from Ms. Renfod had stated in flat, clean prose that could never have encompassed the perfect leap in Oliver’s heart at the sight, the excitement that ran through him from scalp to toes at the fear and tears in big green eyes. We have recently acquired this individual as a result of a deal involving a family member. No inconvenient missing persons report, Mr. Branch. Perfect confidentiality, no complications. We believe he will require three and one-half months of training, plus two weeks extra for final preparations. I have attached a price list for added fees.

God, what a sight, the pretty thing before they’d taken him from himself, before he’d been delivered smiling and silent and still in the dead of night to Oliver’s door.

Honestly, what a loss that he was roaming around like some wild animal now.

Some people needed a keeper, and every time he had seen his beautiful boy since his liberation it had only emphasized to Oliver how badly Baldur needed the right sort of keeper. This new one, the tall young man with his threats and curses, clearly wasn’t doing a very good job.

Well. That was fine. Not his problem any longer, and soon enough Oliver would stand up at a podium before the press, looking at all their little recorders, and he would tell everyone exactly who Christopher Stanton was and what he had been. Oliver’s disgrace would be total, but if he played this right, Baldur would never go anywhere again without no longer being able to hide behind his earrings and awful hair and the patch of scarred skin where his barcode once had been.

Baldur might have gotten away from him, all those years ago, but Oliver intended to ensure he could not get away from what he had been made to do, to be. One did not stop being a pet, once they were made into a thing to be used for pleasure, there was nothing else for them to be.

Baldur might have delusions otherwise, but Oliver could ruin those, for him, just like his boy had ruined himself.

Kicked out of his fancy little college for his fake identity, maybe even charged with it. All his new little friends would know who he was. It was the last bit of pettiness Oliver intended to allow himself to indulge in before he returned back to his hometown and let Baldur’s fragile new life come down around his ears.

Oliver smiled, trailing fingertips over the teal ink, the exact shade of Baldur’s hideous dye job. He still had a PI on retainer, taking pictures of his pretty boy out living his life. Oliver liked to keep tabs on his old flames, just to ensure they were keeping quiet, keeping to themselves, living nice respectable lives. 

Lately, with his reduced income, he’d had to cut that down to tracking Baldur alone.

Christopher Stanton. Oliver snorted. Awful name. Hardly did any justice to the perfect line of his cheekbones, the still-gentle curve of his jaw, the nicely full lips that would no doubt still part just so with a press of the right fingertips-

“Daydreamin’, are we?” A strange male voice asked, and Oliver looked up to stare down the barrel of a gun. 

His heart stopped, eyes caught by that circle of infinite black surrounded by unfeeling metal, and then he raised his eyes to see a man he had never seen before. He wasn’t very tall, draped in heavy clothing that disguised his body type, though he seemed a bit on the muscular side. Perfectly average face, difficult to describe to any law enforcement, blondish-red hair cut in a flattop, narrowed eyes, smattering of freckles. Too far to see the eye color.

Robbers, really? Tonight, of all nights?

Oliver put both palms carefully down on the table as his heart began to pound. “Can I help you?”

His voice was admirably steady, and he was more than a bit proud of himself for that. He did not visibly tremble or shake, but he was deeply, deeply aware of that gun. He could see the safety was off, the man’s finger resting lightly around the trigger.

“You can,” The man said, with a hint of amusement in the blocky lines of his face. It came out more like ye can, an accent Oliver couldn’t quite place. Irish, maybe? “Hearing some rumors, about someone planning to testify next week. I was hoping’ you’d be able to disabuse me of such a disturbin’ notion.”

Oliver blinked, caught off-guard by the man’s friendly, personable tone even as the gun never faltered but it’s position held pointed directly at him. “If you work for WRU-”

“Oh, I don’t. No, as heartbreaking as it is, lad, Rossi’s group got the WRU rejects pipeline all sewn up, don’t he? Clever fuck. And I am a good many things, but I’m not a man stupid enough to cross Giovanni Rossi. You don’t put that man in a bad mood and walk out alive, do you?” Once again, the word slipped into ye, and Oliver was sure now that the accent was Irish. Faded, with the local accent flattening the vowels and roughing up the consonants, but the Irish was there nonetheless.

It occurred to him that it didn’t really matter if he identified his accent, because he almost certainly wasn’t going to walk out of this alive if the man was so easily dropping names.

“I wouldn’t know. If you’re not with WRU, I don’t see why there’s-... there needs to be a problem,” Oliver said, without moving, barely even letting his lips form the wounds. His heart still pounded in his chest. His dreams of moving back home by the coast, to Charleston’s beauty and grandeur and age, were rapidly feeling like scraps of tissue paper dissolving in water.

“You’re not just testifyin’ about the company, now, are you?” The man sighed, pulling a chair out on the other end of the table, sitting down without lowering the gun, keeping it trained on Oliver, just shifting it slightly to aim directly into his chest.

Oliver had taken a few courses in self-defense, back in the day. Aim for the center mass, the easiest thing to hit. People in movies can nail an arm or a leg with accuracy but in real life it’s rarely so easy. Aim for something lethal.

“The trial is about the company,” Oliver said, voice shaking, his own genteel accent thickening the more the fear settled in.

“It is, at that,” The man said, nodding. “But it’s not only about that, either, is it?” He snapped the fingers on his other hand, and Oliver jumped nearly a foot in the air as he realized there were two other men standing behind him he hadn’t even noticed. They appeared on either side of him, one of them picking up the papers on the table and moving them over to the man, who gave a soft, polite thanks and looked them over.

Suddenly, Oliver’s different ink colors for different aspects of his speech seemed… superfluous. He was never going to give that speech.

“What else is it about?” Oliver asked, breathy. He was going to die, and he’d always hoped for one more chance to visit his parents’ graves. Spit on them once or twice, leave flowers, and go. He’d always hoped…

Something occurred to him.

“Is this about my Baldur?”

The man’s face twisted in an expression of utter, absolute disgust.

“Is that it? Did his new keeper send you to-”

“No. Oh no, fucknuts, no.” The man laughed, looking over the papers, flipping through them idly with one hand as his associate stepped back, one of them lurking on either side of Oliver, hands pressing steadily into his shoulders to keep him right where he was. “No, no. I’ve nothin’ to do with that young lib boy. Know of ‘im, though. We keep an eye out, on our own. It’s been a long, long time, but… I owe a debt.”

“A… A debt?” Oliver’s voice caught in his throat. 

“Indeed.” The man set the papers down, and for a moment, Oliver could have sworn there were tears in his eyes, emotions that played openly across the man’s utterly nondescript face. Grief, anger, sadness all warred there. 

The hands on his shoulders tightened. 

“Long time ago now, but I don’t forget, do I? Ah, look, here ‘tis.” The man tapped his finger in the teal paragraph so carefully written on the third page of the speech. “Here’s our lad. Tristan.”

“Tristan-... are you talking about Baldur?”

The man snarled, and Oliver flinched back against the back of his chair, waiting for the burst of sound and the bullet and his own death. Nothing came, and after a moment he opened his eyes. The man had settled his expression, but it was with effort - the anger was still clearly visible. “I’m not talkin’ about your bullshite pet name in the slightest, you sack of shit. No, I’m talkin’ about my friend’s boy Tristan.”

Oliver swallowed, and offered, “I believe… I believe he goes by Christopher now. I could give you his address-”

“We know where he lives, gobshite.”

“Then why are you here-”

“I told you, my debt. You’re an awful thick, aren’t you? We’re not the type to abduct a wean, although that never gave your like a pause, did it?” The man tapped his gun on the table, the first time it had truly lowered since Oliver had first realized he was here. Oliver let out a breath of relief.

“What is your debt, exactly?” His voice was still airy, but he tried to sound calm, in control. Never moved his hands. “I still have some funds the courts are not aware of, perhaps we could work out a deal-.. I have a safe upstairs-”

“Not that kind of debt. I had to stand by when my mucker and his wife got his face shot in by our own boss, no less, but I’m the boss, now. Took a while, took too long. I’ve had to wait and wait and wait, but me and my lads here, we’ve all owed Paul Higgs a debt since, Lord, has it been nearly a decade now? And I intend to pay it tonight.”

The man smiled, briefly, at Oliver.

“Couldn’t stop Paul’s boy from the sufferin’ already inflicted, but I can ensure you don’t say a word about him ever again, can’t I? Ah, no, we can’t have that. He’s got a good life now. Nice boy, all grown up. Hair’s a bit bollocked but who are we to judge, hm? He’s got himself a nice life goin’ and I intend to ensure he does his da proud, just like he would’ve if he weren’t forced to fuck you, you depraved bit of dogshit on my shoe. Fucking a child. A boy. What’ve you got to say for yourself?”

Oliver didn’t even bother to open his mouth. He understood that any attempt at self-defense wasn’t needed or even wanted. He understood that probably there was absolutely nothing he needed to say, ever again. He closed his eyes, lips moving in some dim form of prayer.

“Ah. A man of God, then?” Oliver looked to see the man pull a rosary from underneath his shirt. “That’s a fuckin’ laugh, considering what you’ve done. But, hey, He’s forgiven worse, I imagine. Tristan might even forgive you, too, he was always too good a boy for it all. Too bad for you that I don’t forgive shite.”

“If you’re going to shoot me,” Oliver said, barely able to get his voice above a whisper, “then do it.”

“We’re not going to shoot you, idjit.” The man rolled his eyes, giving his companions an exasperated can you believe this? look. One of the men, the one on Oliver’s right, laughed. “They’d trace it, we’d have to deal with the law, and honestly I am just not in the mood to pay any cops off this week. I’ve already paid Rossi off to keep him from gettin’ pissed at me, although he’s a man who understands the value of family, I think he’d have let us anyway. Still, never hurts to grease a palm, does it? What we’re going to do, Mr. Branch, is drown you. Your bathtub’s chock full of river water.”

“What?” Oliver swallowed, jerking forward as if to push himself up, but the hands on his shoulders pushed him back down. “H-how-... why-”

“When we dump you in the Trelawney,” The man said, calm and easy, “your lungs’ll already be chock full of its water. Nothing unusual about that, hm? Just another child molester dumped in that chemical swamp where he belongs. My mucker’s boy-... I couldn’t help him. I’ve owed Paul for that, we all have. This is my organization, now, and I will ensure Paul’s boy’s name never leaves your lips again.” The man snapped his fingers and Oliver shouted as he was dragged to his feet by the other two, kicking out, knocking his chair over with a clatter.

Just beyond the window were a hundred other houses, lights on in some, families laughing in front of their televisions. Utterly unknowing as their neighbor was dragged upstairs to his own master bathroom, to a custom-made clawfoot tub absolutely full of disgusting, muddy river water dredged up and brought here and Oliver had never even known they were in the house. 

They held his head over the water as he screamed for help.

The leader leaned back against the sink, lit a cigarette, took a long drag and let the smoke float over his face. His eyes were green, Oliver realized with a kind of hysterical panicked giggle. His eyes were green. 

Like Baldur’s.

“W-wait-, wait-... one question, just one, one question-”

The leader held up his hand. They kept Oliver’s head a few inches above the brackish water in the tub. 

“Paul Higgs-... Baldur’s-... the boy’s father.” Oliver could barely breathe, barely get out the words. He was going to die, why was this question so important? Still, he couldn’t stop himself from asking it. “The boy’s-... just a friend?”

The leader snorted, flicked his cigarette onto the bedroom carpet through the bathroom door. A trail of thin smoke began to rise. “Paul was my best friend, yes,” He said flatly. “His da and mine were cousins. The looks run in the family, don’t they?”

“Why… why now? Why not before? When he was-... why only now?”

The man’s lip pulled to the side in a sneer. “Had to wait ‘til the company couldn’t protect you, didn’t I? You’re not a client now, Mr. Branch. Just a bit of blood on Karen Renford’s shoes. Loose thread. You’re not the only one keeps tabs on runaways, you know.”

“What?” Oliver’s eyes widened, the muddy water giving him a strange, distorted, half-transparent view of his own reflection. “What, what are y-you-”

“Ah, it’s not worth explaining this shite to him, is it?” The man rolled his eyes. “Renford knew where he was. She knows where all the runners are. She’s not going to let you fuck the company just to get your fifteen minutes, gobshite. I hate that insufferable bitch and she’s the one who made Paul’s boy into a pet, but I know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth even if the one given’ it should probably be shot herself.”

“Wh-why-”

“Shut your feckin’ hole. We may not have the pleasure of a regular contract, but I was happy to accept this little job free of charge. Everyone gets what they want, don’t they? Paul’s boy gets his nice little life for keeping, Renford gets the blood out, and I get to make up to Paul what I couldn’t do back then. Ah, Tristan was a sweet boy. Bit of a wild thing, but…” The man sighed mournfully. “Well. We all lose people, in this business, Mr. Branch. I’m sorry to’ve lost him but I’d never think to take him from what he’s got. I’m no monster.”

Laughter bubbled in Oliver’s throat, and he barely held it back. No monster, but you’ll kill me, will you?

“Tonight, everyone gets what they want.”

“I wanted Charleston,” Oliver said, staring into the brownish silt-soaked water, thinking of the blue of the ocean, the waves battering the shore, white-capped on rougher days, the salt-smell of the sea. His mother’s hands holding him, sitting on his father’s shoulders, before it had all changed. “I, I wanted Charleston.”

The words were more plaintive than he intended them to be.

“Sad for you,” The leader said without sympathy. “The heart bleeds. Perhaps you should’ve kept your wee dick in your pants and not touched our friend’s boy, then, hm? Bit late for that, though. Hope the Good Lord’s feelin’ His mercy today, pervy fuck, ‘cause you’ll see none from us.”

He snapped his calloused fingers, and Oliver’s head went under the water. He’d jerked in a final breath just before, and as he held it - lungs burning, time running out - Oliver had only a single remaining defiance. His last thought, before he had to pull water into his lungs, before the thrashing and the choking and the final blackness that pulled him under, wasn’t of Baldur at all.

He was found in the Trelawney River, the water in his lungs a perfect match for the water around him. His bathtub had been recently cleaned, but that wasn’t suspicious, as his cleaner had been there only the day before and Oliver rarely took baths. His dinner table was clean of any sign of his final meal. 

There were no papers on the table, or anywhere in the house, detailing his intended speech to the press. Those papers were burned and the ashes spread on the graves of Paul and Veronica Higgs, along with a fresh spray of daisies, Ronnie’s favorite flower. 

Oliver Branch’s testimony could no longer be given, due to his untimely death.

The suggestion that he had killed himself because of the shame of his own actions made the rounds in the press, followed by certainty in certain spaces that he had been murdered to protect WRU on Karen’s orders. 

Perhaps a handler had done it, the rumors went, sent by the strange emotionless Karen Renford, who sat on the stand and spoke with perfect diction and a total lack of feeling on the particulars of her job, and who had never once set off a lie detector in her life. Perhaps a pet liberation member had finally snapped - there had been an incident years ago with someone who had beaten Oliver nearly to unconsciousness, maybe that person had hunted him down again.

Maybe Karen had killed him herself.

The rumors went in circles, but no one ever guessed the truth. 

Oliver’s final defiance was known only to him, and went with him to the grave he was eventually buried in. His final thought was simply of the crash of a white-capped wave against the shore. 

Oliver Branch died thinking not of his crimes, but with the ocean behind his eyes. 

[letapollojusticesayfuck]

💎⛰️🎢☀️📜✏️⭐📣🔦 for currents & 💡 for the scurvy fic. i need to know.

sparrow that’s. so many. (but you’re asking me to talk about currents and I am always looking for a reason to talk about currents so. Thank You)

(also, obvious spoilers under the cut for undeniable you (the currents pulling me onward so. if you care about that you might want to read the fic first)

💎- What was your favorite part?

I’d probably say...the beginning of chapter 7? Where it’s immediately post-trial and Klavier and Apollo are just so tired and at loose ends and they go and sit on the courthouse steps and talk. I basically wrote the entire fic in order to write the last 4 chapters--the emotional aftermath of the trial, but I had to write the trial first so it would have context. 

⛰️-  What was the hardest part?

Figuring out the whole Gramarye Siblings situation, for sure. Because--the thing is that canon isn’t entirely cohesive on who did what when. I did a ton of research by perusing the wiki and taking notes on Jove, Thalassa, Magnifi, etc--and then I kind of just decided that if there was no coherent canon timeline, then I didn’t need to stick to it--and made as much of it up as I felt was necessary.

🎢- Were there any scenes you were nervous about? For audience reception or otherwise?

With every single courtroom scene, I was worried that it would be super boring or wouldn’t live up to the games or that all of the arguments I used would be Wrong and Bad? also this isn’t unique to currents but every single time I write a kissing scene I worry that it’s going to be bad

☀️- Was there symbolism/motifs you worked in?

A little? If anything, I was trying to emphasize the symbolism and Themes that I felt the canon games after AA4 didn’t utilize at all--like, I deliberately used Apollo flying across the ocean after hearing about Klavier as a parallel with Edgeworth flying across the ocean when he heard something happened with Phoenix, and obviously the “POV defense attorney defends rival prosecutor” is a deliberate parallel with 1-4. I guess Klavier’s hair might be a bit of a motif but that’s mostly because I think it’s pretty and less of a deliberate choice lmao

📜-Do you want to write something like this again in the future?

Depends! I would maybe write another casefic if I had a really good concept for one, sometime In The Future (because they are So Annoying to plan)--but as for multichaptered fics, I definitely want to write another one sometime. I just need to have a Good Idea and the motivation to stick with it--currents was written mainly out of spite at the dropped plot threads from AA4 and my determination to resolve a bunch of them and also further my Klapollo Agenda.

✏️-Would you go back and change anything if you could?

At the moment, I don’t think I would--but if you asked me again in a year or so, I probably would change things. I still want to write a series of oneshots in the currents universe--stuff focusing on characters we didn’t see enough of, like Trucy and Phoenix; and Kristoph pre-fic; and Phoenix and Miles; and Klavier and Apollo after everything

⭐- What’s a scene/paragraph you’re proud of?

“We can’t dwell too much on that part. But one more thing—if they planted the nail polish back then, and the powder in the mortar and pestle—how could they be sure you wouldn’t...accidentally…”

Apollo trails off, but they both know how that sentence ends. Klavier shudders.

“I almost never use that thing, anyway—it was a housewarming gift, and I’ve only ever been ambitious enough to grind my own spices about twice. Otherwise, it’s just easier to use the stuff in jars. I guess they must have known that, somehow? Either that, or...it didn’t matter if…”

“So, they’re someone who either wanted you to be found guilty for a murder you didn’t commit, or didn’t mind if you were poisoned by accident—and who probably works for that dogsitting company,” Apollo murmurs, pulling out his planner and jotting down a few notes. On the other side of the glass, Klavier sighs, tilting his head so that his fringe obscures his eyes.

“I wonder...if they’d gotten me, accidentally...would they still have killed Kris? Or would they have been satisfied with just me?”

The question is nearly inaudible, but Apollo looks up sharply, staring at Klavier.

“You think they killed him just because...it would hurt you?”

Klavier shifts, meeting Apollo’s eyes. “What would be the point, otherwise? Vengeance? Apollo, who’s left alive that would need to enact revenge on him? He was already on death row—what does this accomplish, besides hurting me?”

As much as Apollo tries, he can’t come up with an answer.

I don’t know if I can think of too many specific scenes I’m proud of--but I really do like this one, because I think it shows Apollo’s pragmatic side--trying to solve the murder mystery, pushing his emotions aside when he can--while illustrating Klavier’s attitude of “usually I would brush this off but we both know this premise is a little wonky and this isn’t adding up.” 

...that might not have made sense, I’m not always the best at analyzing my own writing. I just throw words at the page and what happens, happens.

📣-What was the best piece of encouragement you got?

It’s cheesy, but everyone who commented on each chapter was an invaluable source of encouragement? like, the absolute best feeling in the world was posting a new chapter and then seeing all the comment notifications come in, and spending the rest of the day replying. I’d written 6 chapters before I posted the prologue, but having people give me their reactions to each chapter really was the most important thing that made me keep going <3

🔦-Did you learn anything while writing it? About yourself? Writing?

I learned a lot about How To Write A Murder-Mystery--first and foremost, that it involves so much planning. And I maybe had to spoil the ending of AA6 entirely for myself--fun fact, I still haven’t finished the game, I’m stuck on Trial Day 1 of the Maya case (because I’m Tired, okay?). About writing and myself--I learned that I definitely need a deadline, and that using external “word count goal” tools is pretty essential for me if I want to write anything longer than a oneshot.

For The Scurvy Fic:

💡-What was the motivation behind the story?

okay SO. There was a conversation going on in a Klapollo discord server. Somehow we ended up talking about Klavier and/or Apollo being cheapskates. I think I mentioned something about Klavier surviving entirely on ramen noodles because they’re cheap? and then it devolved into a conversation about how they’d totally get scurvy if they did that. And I started thinking about how Klavier and Apollo are inherently pretty competitive, and how they’d totally just get into a stupid bet and be so stubborn that they wouldn’t back down, because they have to Prove A Point, even if they get scurvy from their awful diet of Whatever’s The Cheapest. And then...Scurvy Fic Happened. (along with the Other scurvy fics, because there’s Three of them!! I was just the only person who went with the obvious title).

Thank you for the ask!! Hope this was...enlightening??

[fuzzbuns]

👀 Please tell us your thoughts on an Ichimatsu and Atsushi friendship when they're adults

Ok so originally I was gonna draw something out because I had a lot I wanted to joke about but haven’t gotten around to it... so!

My ramble (I can not emphasize the ramble part of this sentence enough. this is post is so long I'm so sorry) about Atsushi and Ichimatsu:

So I actually already thought the idea was funny way before the episode with them in it came out. We see in the movie that Atsushi and Ichimatsu are pretty familiar with each other in high school. Atsushi isn’t like directly in Ichimatsu’s friend group but they are seen hanging out in some of the photos/ the obvious karaoke scene. So like off the bat I think it would be funny if Atsushi got to know Todomatsu through Ichimatsu. I have a friend who is an ichi stan so we went back and forth about like different scenarios in which Atsushi is basically stuck babysitting Todomatsu for Ichimatsu and being unsure what to do with him because totty use to be like That. Also, the status of being known as “so-and-sos little sibling” is something I think would really mess with Todomatsu’s sense of self (speaking from experience) which we know he already struggles with and I love to make him suffer <3.

So the thought of them meeting up again after the mixer (to Ichimatsus dismay) and talking things out was already on my mind. But then I really started thinking about it again recently because MY OWN TWIN AND BESTIE decided to gang up on me on my own birthday..... literally sooo evil.  It was really funny even if it was at my expense and I was like “I could see Atsushi and Ichimatsu doing this to totty”. Atsushi seems like the kind of guy who would just go along with whatever evil scheme Ichimatsu is planning either because he has no idea what is going on or because he does and just wants to poke fun at Todomatsu. So I thought about drawing it out but never got around to it.

Then the episode with Atsushi came out and after the original shock of Atsushi Osomatsu san actually being in a skit wore off I was like.... did I manifest Atsushi and Ichimatsu interaction??? wow..... my influence... <3 and then after that I was like.... I really want them to be friends so bad.... it would be so funny....SO

THREE PARAGRAPHS OF BACKSTORY LATER LOL??? let's actually get into it and like disclaimer: I’m gonna be taking a gag anime way too srsly (also gonna touch on the suicide and depression stuff so tw for that)

So as adults I think it's fair to say that Atsushi and Ichimatsu have drifted apart pretty hard. Their only real connection at this point is Todomatsu and Totty doesn’t let his personal life with his family and his public life with his......... “friends” mix. Even at the reunion, we don’t see Ichimatsu wanting to interact with anyone there. When Atsushi shows up, Totty is the only one who really has a reaction. However, I think that the fact Atsushi is still in touch with Totty even after high school (which I can not emphasize enough how hard it must have been for Atsushi... so brave....) shows that he would be more than willing to reconnect with Ichimatsu.

I’m not gonna whip out my Atsushi Osomatsu San conspiracy board (its actually a PowerPoint......... this isn't a joke btw its a real PowerPoint) rn but I feel like it's safe to assume that Atsushi does genuinely like Todomatsu and he does put a lot of effort into being his friend. Todomatsu on the other hand............................ is..... you know..... not a great person LOL. So I think Atsushi approaching Ichimatsu after all these years to talk about Todomatsu is like pretty reasonable. Ichimatsu would probably be really annoyed and uncomfortable because he doesn’t like being reminded of high school or talking to people, especially someone like Atsushi. But I think their personalities would actually go really well together and they would be able to get along and have normal conversations after Ichimatsu gets used to him being around. Plus I think they would really connect over their mutual care for totty (tho I would argue unlike Ichimatsu’s platonic love for his sibling, Atsushi borders on romantic but I can not get into that rn that's what my crazed powerpoint is for... I'm just saying a heterosexual explanation for Atsushi is pushing it). 

So having Todomatsu like be the stepping stone for them to get back in touch I feel like it would also give Atsushi someone to be emotionally vulnerable with. ik the skit with him and ichi as an officer is like..... technically not “canon” but I'm gonna take the liberty of assuming Atsushi is still acting in character (even if exaggerated) because any characterization of Atsushi I can get I will run with. Atsushi probably wouldn't feel comfortable (or like couldn't even if he tried) opening up to Todomatsu about feeling depressed let alone suicidal and I think those are both topics Ichimatsu can deeply relate to and I think it would be sweet if they both had someone to talk about it (maybe with less of Ichimatsus enabling but Atsushi seems to appreciate the dark humor).

With this, we have a pretty good basis for like a friendly relationship (tho they probably don’t meet often because of Atsushi’s busy life and Ichimatsu’s introverted tendencies) but I think the friendship gets funny when Todomatsu is dragged into it because I'm biased Ichimatsu is evil and Atsushi probably thinks its funny. Off the bat, it is gonna annoy Todomatsu to see ichi and Atsushi getting close and Ichimatsu is gonna play it up literally just to piss Todomatsu off. Totty is gonna mention thinking about hanging out with Atsushi and Ichimatsu would be like “oh we are already hanging out that day” which is a lie but it annoys totty and he knows that if he calls Atsushi up and asks him to hang out with him instead of Todomatsu, Atsushi will play along just so he can hear Totty yell at him over the phone. 

I also think it's just funny to picture Atsushi peeking into alleys when he is walking around to see if he can spot Ichimatsu talking to cats. Atsushi just starts casually chatting Ichimatsu up about whatever but Ichimatsu is like “just cut to ‘the chase.... Totty is ghosting you again right?” and Atsushi is just like “.................... yea”. Like the idea of Ichimatsu awkwardly being the middle man between Atsushi and Totty is so funny to me because I feel like he would act annoyed but like secretly he likes knowing what’s going on/ keeping an eye on their relationship. like Ichi tries to understand why Atsushi is so set on being Totty's friend when Totty is the way he is and the more he learns the more he is just like “....... these bitches ga-

at this point, I feel like I have nothing else to really add... just like the mix of genuine friendship for Ichimatsu and Todomatsu outside of the family.... Atsushi having someone to talk to about the things he can’t talk to Todomatsu with....... Todomatsu bullying....... Plus like I do genuinely think that just like how Ichi and Atsushi care about him, Totty in turn does care a lot about his brother and (debatably) Atsushi too so while it would annoy him a little to see Ichimatsu and Atsushi gang up on him I think he would secretly really feel comfort knowing that Ichimatsu made friends and that he thinks Atsushi is a good guy. Totty already knows Atsushi knows him from highschool so there is no point in being overly fake with Atsushi but I feel like that added layer of having Atsushi and Ichi be friends would let him open up a bit more and at the end of the day I'm a Todomatsu stan first, human second so that's all I care about. like at the end of the day I just like atsutodo and I like 110 because atsutodo is objectively funny (and like character development for totty or something ig) and 110 is the best sibling duo so any excuse to have both interact I will take it! 

[recurring-polynya]

9, 13, 19, 23 for RenRuki OTP meme!

9. Have they made each other cry?

Neither Rukia nor Renji are criers by nature, but absolutely yes.

I looked it up, and weirdly enough, Rukia does *not* cry in the manga version, but she does cry in the anime when Renji tells her to go to the Kuchiki. Regardless, I think they both had some wet face syndrome in the days following that.

Rukia was having a pretty tough time in the Academy, and Renji was in a constant state of unconsciously rubbing it in. I bet he made her cry at least once, although she is way too stubborn to actually do it in front of him, I think she did it in private, later.

I’m not sure crying over someone is the same as them making you cry, but I believe with 100% of my being that the “fear she was trying to avoid” in the As Nodt fight was Renji-related, and even though she held it together pretty well at the time, I hope homegirl went home and had a good cathartic sob after the fact.

In the same vein, it’s very believable that Renji had at least one tearful breakdown at some point in the Soul Society Arc. I imagine he came home and puked his guts out after he had to arrest her and throw her in a holding cell and there could have been some tears that went along with that, and possibly also after he found out that Byakuya had no intention of lifting a finger to stay her execution. (I just realized this is not the first time I have headcanoned Renji puking out of grief and it’s true, I think he does, it’s great, I love my brain, thanks)

I would bet money that Renji (possibly both of them) teared up a little when Ichika was born, and/or when they found out about the pregnancy.

Also, not to ruin the vibe, but it seems highly likely that at some point in their acquaintance, probably in their Inuzuri days, Rukia kicked Renji in the nards hard enough to make tears come out of his face.

13. Name something they would never do for the other person.

Like the dealbreaker question, this one is really hard because they are both really intense people who are absolutely ride-or-die for each other (as well as everyone else they know). I am still sticking to my guns that Rukia became a shinigami in the first place for Renji’s sake, and Renji’s entire first character arc involved him binning 40 years of hard work and career ladder climbing to be with her.

That being said, though, they do maintain a fair amount of personal autonomy that I think they would stick to. Renji would never get his brow tatts removed, for example, no matter how much Rukia hates them (or conversely, I think he didn’t tell her before he got them because he knew she’d tell him not to, and he was determined to get them and wouldn’t have listened to her anyway). Likewise, if she asks, he will refrain from wearing a particular pair of extra-terrible sunglasses to a Kuchiki family picnic, but he’s not going to get rid of the sunglasses collection for her. I honestly can’t imagine her seriously asking him to do either of these things-- she’d rather just drag him for them.

I think the part in WDKALY where Rukia decides to keep “Kuchiki” as her professional name was written in a kinda stilted and dumb way, but I do not disagree with it. I am reasonably sure that this was decided at an editorial level, because if they have a Bleach continuation, they would want the character to keep her more familiar name, but then they added the fact that she took his name more generally because people are weird about women who don’t take their husbands name (and then people argue that her keeping her name is “evidence” that she doesn’t love him... so, honestly, there’s no winning either way). Personally, I didn’t like that they waited until they were actually in line at the Soul Society DMV to have this discussion (with Byakuya standing around, no less), but but otherwise, I think it’s a nice compromise, and that Rukia would want to use the names of both the men she considers her family. Renji seemed vaguely disappointed that she wasn’t taking his name entirely, and I can see that, but also, it’s her choice and he doesn’t make a stink about it, which rings true to me.

In all of these examples, the principle is that, all else being equal, each of them will take input from the other, but they would stick to their guns when it comes to decisions about themselves. That doesn’t mean they are going to die on these hills out of sheer stubbornness. I wrote a fanfic once where Byakuya died and Renji married Rukia in order to help her consolidate power in the family, and he took her name and very vehemently made everyone call him by it. 

Also, I am sure there are some household chores that Renji would like done to some particular specifications, and Rukia just will not. Like, she refuses to rinse the dishes before she puts them in the dishwasher and she won’t squeegee the glass after she showers, or whatever the Soul Society equivalents of these things are.

19. If they could each write a single line in their marriage vows, what would they be?

I cannot emphasize enough that Byakuya paid for their entire fancy Kuchiki-ass wedding and even though they are constantly on their best behavior around him, he knows how they are and he would never, ever let them write their own vows.

So, here is a dispatch from some secondary drunken, backyard wedding that they had for close-friends only (Byakuya was also there, but Isshin slipped him a pot brownie and he was feeling very at one with the universe at the time)

Who the heck writes a single line of their wedding vows?? I gave them each a paragraph.

Rukia:

People have been joking a lot, every since we started dating, how lucky you are, but the fact is, I am the lucky one. I’ve been so fortunate, in my life, to have such good friends and family, but I feel luckiest of all to have you-- you’ve always been there to cheer me on, to pick me up, to make me pickles. You’re brave and you’re handsome and you have really, really great hair, and I feel like the luckiest person in Soul Society that I get to marry you. I love you so, so much, you big dummy.

Renji:

I used to think that I would be content if I could just love you from afar. That just being able to see you and hear your voice and know that you were happy was enough for me. But I was wrong, as it turns out, because being able to touch you and kiss you and tell you I love you a hundred times a day has made me happier than I ever thought I could be. I expect that being married to you is going to make me more powerful and obnoxious than anyone here could possibly imagine and I am absolutely not sorry. I love you so, so much, you little dummy.

See, Byakuya, that wasn’t so bad! (maybe it was)

Bonus! In the dead Byakuya fanfic I mentioned above, I had them get married under Gotei authority and I wrote some (partial) shinigami wedding vows that are basically perfect for them and also I was really proud of them:

How will you meet your enemies? As one, we shall meet them, as one, we shall fight.

And how do you swear this? We swear on sword and soul.

Let it be so. With this, you are forged together, a single blade. May your battle be long, and when you fall, may you fall together.

23. Write a ~300 scene between them with no dialogue, only body language.

Wow. Dang. This felt like a personal attack. Anyway, it was really hard, and I did it, but I didn’t like it.

Here’s the scene right where Renji hauls Ichigo off to go fight Ywhach, because I am always thinking about this scene and willing it to make sense (Rukia should have gone with Ichigo, I will die on this hill!!!!), and I think it only works if there’s a bunch of unsaid subtext. It’s depressing, but it’s only 511 words, which is very much like 300 words, almost exactly the same, honestly.

~

The others don’t see it, because they are busy watching Orihime restore Ichigo’s sword, his swords, for maybe the last time, but Rukia does, because she needs an explanation.

Renji’s shoulders slump, his chin tips down, his hands are open at his sides.

He is sorry.

He better be sorry! Rukia clenches her jaw, her eyes burn at him. She is the one who should have yanked Ichigo to his feet, she is the one who should go with him to his death.

Renji’s eyes slide upward and meet hers. His jaw is set.

He is right, and she knows it.

Orihime is hurt. Her lungs are making ominous bubbling noises as Zangetsu pieces itself back together under her care. Rukia is exhausted, but she can manage the kaidou that will save her friend’s life. Renji cannot.

It is more than that, though. Rukia’s bankai is perilous. Ichibei warned her that she should use it sparingly-- that it will take many hours of practice before her body can handle the wrenching temperature shocks. She has used it too many times already in the last 48 hours. She still can’t feel all her fingers and toes since she came back from killing As Nodt. Another go at it so soon may kill her before she even has a chance to be useful. It could kill her and everyone in her blast radius, which might be helpful, but probably...not. Her hand rubs nervously at the hilt of her sword. She tries to flex the dead pinkies, but they deny her.

Renji sees the motion, and he grips Zabimaru confidently. His bankai is new to him, too, but Hihiou Zabimaru was like a weighted practice blade-- So-oh Zabimaru is familiar enough and easy in comparison. Sode no Shirayuki and Zabimaru are both temperamental blades, but Zabimaru has always been at their most dependable when the odds are stacked against them.  

Rukia reaches out and gives Orihime’s hair a gentle pat. She will stay, but she will not like it. 

The side of Renji’s mouth ticks up in a rueful half-smile, and his eyes glitter with the last bit of humor he can muster. She can beat him up all she likes when he gets back.

Rukia flings an arm around Orihime, and stuffs her face into her friend’s shoulder. None of this is fair. 

Renji’s eyes soften briefly, and his eyes are filled with so much love for her. He knows he has the easy job. There aren’t any words to thank her enough for letting him go on a suicide mission with Ichigo while she stays back to give them something worth fighting for.

Then he stiffens, and squares his shoulders once again. He jabs Ichigo impatiently with one foot and screws up his face into the same scowl he always uses to armor his heart. 

It won’t work, Rukia thinks, as Orihime finishes her task and slumps backward. She will keep Renji’s heart here with her, and Orihime will keep Ichigo’s, and no matter what, none of them will die alone.

[mss4msu]

Call Me Doctor. Chapter 17

Summary: Fresh out of graduate school, you had somehow landed a spot in the faculty of a prestigious university. The small anthropology department has too many faculty and too few offices; sharing an office does not go as you expected.

Pairing: Professor!Steve x Professor!Reader 

Words: 2004

Warnings: Language, steamy flirtations

A/N: I’m horny so (Y/N) is horny. Big wheels keep on turnin’, slow burn keep on burnin’. 

Catch Up On The Story Here

Your stomach was fluttering with giddy anxiety as you rode the bus to campus Monday morning. Last night you had stayed up later then you should have texting with Steve, despite the fact that you both knew you would see each other just a few hours later. Things had started lighthearted as you discussed how he and James did in their race, and moved into more romantic topics as the night went on. You hadn’t pegged Steve as the kind of guy to use emojis, but it seemed every other message you had either a kiss face emoji or heart eye guy coming your way. 

Your heart was pounding as you walked up the stairs and gently turned the handle of your office door. You pushed open the door and couldn’t help the huge grin that spread over your face as you walked in and saw Steve smiling back at you over the screen of his computer. 

“Good morning!” you chimed as you went over to your desk and set your bag down, taking off your jacket. 

“It is now,” Steve replied, getting up, closing the office door, walking over to you, and pulling you in for a long kiss. 

“Should we be doing this in the office?” you asked hesitantly, but not wanting him to stop. 

“I can think of a lot worse things we could be doing in this office,” Steve replied with a devilish grin. 

Your eyes widened and the tingling of lust grew in your latter half at the idea of Steve pushing the books off of your desk and pushing you onto it. You pulled him back in for a deeper kiss. You were soon interrupted by a knock at the door. Steve hastened back to his desk so as not to raise suspicion while you said, “Come in.”

“Hope I’m not intruding on anything,” James winked at you as he saw how red both your and Steve’s faces were. 

“What could you possibly be interrupting?” Steve asked.

You rolled your eyes in response to both of them.  

James smirked as he pulled up a chair at the table, “So, mom and dad, since you two have been busy at work on the actual content of the museum thing, Tony has delegated that Nat and I have to plan the opening party for it. Do you know when we should be planning it for? Can’t be that hard to open a museum, right? You’ve been working on it for long enough now it must be about ready.”

“Fuck,” Steve muttered and looked at you with apologetic eyes.

“Yes, due to all of my hard work,” you emphasized this, as Steve had done hardly anything to help aside from make rude comments about the text you had written for the displays, “it is almost done.”

“Great, so when is the opening?” 

“Erm…” you looked at Steve with a mix of panic and confusion on your face.

“Seriously, Steve did you not fucking help (Y/N) at all with this? Y’all got time to fuck around in here but not do your damn work?” James’s serious tone was quickly replaced with a chuckle.

“First of all, we have not been ‘fucking around’.” Steve said sternly.

“And second?” James asked, putting his hands under his chin in mock anticipation. 

“And second,” Steve continued, “I recognize that I am an asshole and will be helping (Y/N) get everything in order, even if it means having to stay late.”

“Yeah, I bet you’d like to stay late with her,” James raised his eyebrows at Steve.

You couldn’t help but let out a little giggle as your stomach fluttered, “James, I’m sure we can get everything up and ready in 2 weeks. I’ve already gotten most of the text finished and found images we can use. The objects have been selected already and I’ve worked with the security company to get everything installed in time.”

“Alright, we’ll Tony says the opening is next Friday anyway, so that’s great that you can agree with him,” James became much more sheepish after this reveal. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Steve began to fume, “Of course Tony already had a date in mind. You could have fucking led with that Buck.”

“Woah, woah, woah, I am being used by Tony to plan an event and tell you, keep that anger to yourself buddy.”

“James, we’ll get it done. If you need any help with the opening planning, let me know. I’m sure I could help brainstorm themes or whatever you need.”

“Thanks, (Y/N)! I’ll try not to stress you out with the party planning too much, but could use the creative help I’m sure. Well, I’ll leave you two lovebirds to the museum planning,” James said as he got up, “Or whatever else it is that you do in here while the door is shut,” he winked and closed the door just in time to miss being hit by the book Steve had thrown at him.

“He is obnoxious,” Steve sighed, shaking his head in exasperation.

“It’s fine, all his teasing must just mean that you really like me. I don’t think he’d try to get on your bad side if you didn’t,” you smiled at him. 

He turned red in response and cleared his throat, “What can I help with for the museum thing? I really am sorry that I haven’t contributed as much as I should have.”

You grabbed your notebook full of the final to-do’s for the museum and walked over to Steve’s desk, “Here’s what needs to be done still. I have to run off to my class, I’ll hurry back so we can tackle what’s left on the list together.”

As you began to turn away, Steve grabbed your arm and pulled you back to him, kissing you deeply before letting you go, the way his eyes hungrily watched as you grabbed your things and left the room gave you shivers of pleasure as you left.

You weren’t even sure if you had lectured about everything you had intended to and felt like you were on autopilot when you reminded everyone that their midterm papers were due to you by the end of the week. Steve had consumed your mind before, but never like this. Students came up to you after class to ask questions, but you could hardly stay focused on what they said before your brain wandered to the thought of Steve pulling you back to him before you had left for your class. You eventually just told the students wanting to talk to you to send you an email with their questions as you “had to get going”. As you half-jogged back to your office, you mind drifted to all the immodest things you wanted Steve to spend the day doing to you. You took a deep breath outside of your office, willing yourself to keep it together as you walked in. Steve was hard at work in the corner with headphones in, eyes lost to his computer screen. You put your things down at your desk and snuck up next to him, planting a kiss on his cheek which finally broke his concentration. 

“How was class?” he asked you, taking his reading glasses off and leaning back in his chair. 

“It was alright, I had more important things on my mind though,” you couldn’t help your eyes from drifting down his body. 

“Oh?” 

Your eyes snapped up from their traveling to see Steve licking his lips. 

“Yeah,” you gulped, “like this damn museum project,” you gestured to his computer. 

“I worked on it while you were gone. I would just like to reiterate how sorry I am for not helping and for being so difficult on the parts you did reach out to me for. All of the content you have here is really great, I’m just going through and making some edits to grammar and skimming down bits so they aren’t so long. I know you’re passionate about Egypt, but that section is way too much for anyone going through a museum to want to read.”

You rolled your eyes, “Says the guy who added two paragraphs to each portion of text on World War II I wrote.”

“Hey, I fully intended to go back through that and edit some out there too.”

“Mhm, I’ll believe it when I see it.”

The rest of the week proceeded in a similar way. You and Steve would sneak kisses with each other and took work breaks to flirt heavily with each other. You had to start leaving the door open, as your breaks became longer than your periods of working and you needed some accountability to keep yourself from jumping on top of him. Thursday night, you had dinner delivered to the office, as you knew staying late was the only way you would finish the last round of cutting objects from the exhibit so you would know what to present to X-Con the next day. It started out professional, as you really did need to finish your work. But as the work got finished, it turned into a makeshift date with you and Steve sitting at the table in your office, laughing over the remnants of your dinner. When the food was gone, Steve pulled you in for a kiss, which turned into multiple kisses. Tired of being at an awkward angle due to the table between you. You got up and motioned for Steve to move his chair away from the table. He obliged and you straddled his lap, taking his head in your hands and kissing him passionately. You began to lightly grind yourself on his lap, and felt something making his pants tighter.

The sound of the door creaking open made you both stop instantly. 

“Damn, (Y/N), get it,” you heard Natasha say from behind you.

Heart racing, you quickly slid off of Steve’s lap and turned around to see Nat and James standing in the doorway, both with their arms overflowing with streamers and balloons. 

You cleared your throat, “Ahem, what are you both doing here?” 

“Going through party decorations that we already have so that we know what we have to go out and buy this weekend for the opening,” James snickered.

“And why did that search bring you in here?” Steve asked, his face growing redder by the second.

“We thought custodial was in here and we need to be let into that storage area under the staircase,” Nat was attempting to keep her face professional, but let out a small giggle at the end.

“Custodial is definitely not in here,” you replied, smoothing down your hair.

“They are not, but they probably need to be after you two are done for the night,” James wheezed. 

That broke Natasha and she also started laughing, “Alright, see you two later,” she chimed, pulling James out of the room.

“Maybe we should call it a night?” you asked tentatively. 

“I think that’s for the best,” Steve replied, adjusting his pants before standing up. 

You and Steve spent Friday much less touchy and flirty, afraid that any contact between you would raise suspicion or provide James and Natasha more fuel to make fun of you both. You and Steve were just about to leave for your meeting with X-Con when you got an email from Scott Lang:

“Hey (Y/N) and Steve,

Sorry about the super late notice, but we’ve had something else come up (huge infestation of ants into this bank vault we were working on) and so we’ll have to reschedule today’s meeting. The only other time we have available before your opening is Sunday. Does that work?

~Scott”

“Shit,” you sighed, “Steve, the security team had to cancel. They said Sunday is the only time that will work for them.”

“Well, we don’t really have a choice then, do we?”

“Not really,” you sat back down at your desk and speedily typed out a response to Scott, agreeing on Sunday. 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

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[standsreview]

The best Stands ever

The resume: there are so many conflicting recommendations out there. Should you keep it to one page? Do you put a summary up top? Do you include personal interests and volunteer gigs? This may be your best chance to make a good first impression, so you’ve got to get it right.

What the Experts Say

“There’s nothing quick or easy about crafting an effective resume,” says Jane Heifetz, a resume expert and founder of Right Resumes. Don’t think you’re going to sit down and hammer it out in an hour. “You have to think carefully about what to say and how to say it so the hiring manager thinks, ‘This person can do what I need done,’” she says. After all, it’s more than a resume; “it’s a marketing document,” says John Lees, a UK-based career strategist and author of Knockout CV. Heifetz agrees: “The hiring manager is the buyer, you’re the product, and you need to give him a reason to buy.” Here’s how to write a resume that will be sure to win attention.

Open strong The first 15-20 words of your resume are critically important “because that’s how long you usually have a hiring manager’s attention,” says Lees. Start with a brief summary of your expertise. You’ll have the opportunity to expand on your experience further down in your resume and in your cover letter. For now, keep it short. “It’s a very rich, very brief elevator pitch,” says Heifetz. “You need to make it exquisitely clear in the summary that you have what it takes to get the job done.” It should consist of a descriptor or job title like, “Information security specialist who…” “It doesn’t matter if this is a job title you have or ever did,” says Lees. It should match what they’re looking for. Here are two examples:

Healthcare executive with over 25 years of experience leading providers of superior patient care.

Strategy and business development executive with substantial experience designing, leading, and implementing a broad range of corporate growth and realignment initiatives.

And be sure to avoid clichés. Using platitudes in your summary or anywhere else in the document is “basically like saying, ‘I’m not more valuable than anyone else,’” explains Lees. They are meaningless, obvious, and boring to read.

Get the order right If you’re switching industries, don’t launch into job experience that the hiring manager may not think is relevant. Heifetz suggests adding an accomplishments section right after your opener that makes the bridge between your experience and the job requirements. “These are main points you want to get across, the powerful stories you want to tell,” she says. “It makes the reader sit up straight and say ‘Holy cow, I want to talk to her. Not because of who she is but because of what’s she’s done.’” Here’s  that does this well (source: John Lees, Knockout CV).

After the accomplishments section (if you add it), list your employment history and related experience. See below for exactly what to include. Then add any relevant education. Some people want to put their education up top. That might be appropriate in academia but for a business resume, you should highlight your work experience first and save your degrees and certifications for the end.

And that ever-popular “skills” section? Heifetz recommends skipping it all together. “If you haven’t convinced me that you have those skills by the end of the resume, I’m not going to believe it now,” she explains. If you have expertise with a specific type of software, for example, include it in the experience section. And if it’s a drop-dead requirement for the job, also include it in the summary at the very top.

Be selective It’s tempting to list every job, accomplishment, volunteer assignment, skill, and degree you’ve ever had. But don’t. “A resume is a very selective body of content. It’s not meant to be comprehensive. If it doesn’t contribute to convincing the hiring manager to talk to you, then take it out,” says Heifetz. This applies to volunteer work as well. Only include it as part of your experience — right along with your paid jobs — if it’s relevant.

So what about the fact that you raise angora rabbits and are an avid Civil War re-enactor? “Readers are quite tolerant of non-job related stuff but you have to watch your tone,” says Lees. If you’re applying for a job at a more informal company that emphasizes the importance of work-life balance, you might include a line about your hobbies and interests. For a more formal, buttoned-up place, you’ll probably want to take out anything personal.

Make it readable Stop fiddling with the margins. Lees says the days of a one-page resume are over: “It used to be that you used a tiny font size and crammed in the information to make it fit.” Nowadays, two or three pages is fine, but that’s the limit: “Any more than three and it shows that you can’t edit.” Heifetz agrees: “I’ve never met a resume that fit on one page, even for a recent graduate. If you’re going to tell a compelling story, you need more space.” You can supplement what’s on the page with links to your work but you have to “motivate the hiring manager to take the extra step required. Don’t just include the URL. Tell them in a brief, one-line phrase what’s so important about the work you’re providing,” says Heifetz.

And stick to the most common fonts. “It’s not how fancy it is. It’s how clear, clean, and elegant it is in its simplicity,” says Heifetz. Vary the line length and avoid crammed text or paragraphs that look identical. The goal is to include enough white space so that a hiring manager wants to keep reading. For example, the opening summary could be three or four lines of text or two or three bullet points. “It doesn’t matter as long as it’s easy to read,” says Heifetz.

Get help It can be hard to be objective about your own experience and accomplishments. Many people overstate — or understate — their achievements or struggle to find the right words. Consider working with a resume writer, mentor, or a friend who can help you steer away from questions like, “Am I good enough for this position?” and focus on “Am I the right person for the job?” At a minimum, have someone else check your resume for logic, grammar, spelling, and punctuation.

Tweak it for each opportunity Don’t think you can get away with having just one resume. “You can have a foundational resume that compellingly articulates the most important information,” says Heifetz, but you have to alter it for each opportunity. Of course, you may need to write the first version in a vacuum but for each subsequent one, you need context. “Research the organization. Talk to someone — or ideally two or three people — who’ve worked there before, work there now, or otherwise know the organization. Then tweak it for the position, the industry, etc.,” says Lees. Heifetz says to ask yourself: What words or experiences do I need to highlight? What can I get rid of because it’s not relevant? “They don’t have to be radically different but they need to do the job for each situation,” she says.

[powered-by-paranoia]

Of Mutual Trust and Other Myths | Chapter 5

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

genre: angst, fluff, slow burn, (eventual) smut

pairing: Loki x OC // Loki x Reader

summary: A long time ago, when the telephone had barely been invented on Midgard, a secret organization made a pact with a powerful Asgardian figure. After twenty years of training, the organization’s best agent was smuggled into Asgard, as one of the terms of the pact. The woman ends up working undercover as a librarian, and patiently waits for opportunities to dig her claws into the inner politics and circles of Asgard. But despite all the magic tricks, how trustworthy can a human weapon really be, when the humanity starts to show?

words: 4101

taglist: @what-a-fantasy

WARNING: explicit description of a panic attack. ( to avoid but still read, skip reading from 'But dams could break' to 'Rangvald was probably asleep' - about 8 paragraphs)

Chapter Five: Baby, Don't Tell On Me

I was there.

Out of all the lies Ingrid had ever told, this had to be the most stupid one. People usually lie in order to get out of trouble, but one could argue she seemed determined to get as deep into it as possible. And she had thought so herself, before carefully weighing the consequences of such a lie.

The heavy silence that followed could have made her regret her own words. Odin had given her his full attention now, and Loki had probably done the same. She wasn’t looking at him though — her gaze had met Odin’s for a split second before she lowered it. It wasn’t a sign of shame or guilt, but a way for her to show respect. She had seen enough in that fraction of a second to figure out Odin was rather perplexed than angry.

“And who might you be?” he asked, showing no sign of annoyance at her intervention as she had expected. His tone was quite plain and bore no subtleties to it.

“Ingrid, daughter of Ingvarr. Head librarian and apprentice to Rangvald, your Majesty,” she replied and stood up, like a student forced to answer a teacher's question. The heavy chair screeched as it made room for her legs.

Odin lifted his chin a little to look at her, as if trying to recall if he had seen her before, or if he had heard of her father. But then came the real inquiry he had, “You knew about all this?”

“Father—” Loki tried to intervene but was immediately cut off by her speaking again. It was almost funny how often he had gotten interrupted in those last few minutes.

“I knew, yes. He came to me and explained everything in detail. I agreed to help. If I may add, my father died in a battle on Vanaheim in rather suspicious circumstances many years ago. I led myself to believe that a different perspective could finally bring him justice.” Ingrid glanced at Odin once again, only to lay her eyes on a completely different person. He had let her finish talking, which she hadn’t expected. Not only that, but his expression now told her that he had calmed down a little, and that he was genuinely interested in what she had to say. “I did not know we were disobeying direct orders. I assumed we were hiding him from other trusted confidantes of the palace, so that they would not worry about being interrogated as well. I fear words cannot convey how much I regret it now, but I want to apologize nonetheless.”

“Look at me,” he ordered, and she obeyed. Now was the time to employ every little trick she had learned, Ingrid thought. She made sure her expression would convey that was sorry about what had happened, and not only that. She looked scared for whatever punishment would come. Her eyebrows twitched, her breathing was heavy and even her eyes were on the verge of being watery. But she looked the Allfather in the eye and tried to find the right words to continue.

“He did confess, though,” she said, her voice a little shakier this time. “Despite all the broken rules, I want you to know that your son did the right thing. There was no mental or physical torture involved, besides being held in chains. I watched him switch from being in denial to being indeed sorry for what he had done. Regretting it. Wanting to make things right again.”

She was improvising, but with vague details. It was the perfect combination of trying to get Loki out of trouble and shifting her part of the blame over to him as well, she thought. Speaking of which, Loki had apparently decided to stay completely silent. He didn’t even care to contradict her when she implied that he had tricked her into doing it. After all, they did have some sort of a deal that she could lie her way out of it and claim she had no idea. The least he could do for her now was to take as much of the blame as he could. But was he really a man of his word? Every other action had led her to believe that he was not. This was the time and place to prove it, she thought.

“Then why is he unconscious?” Odin asked, in a way that might have sent shivers down her spine, had she not have an answer prepared for that, too.

Ingrid swallowed. “When we first brought him here, we thought he would cause at least some disturbance. I could not risk it, with people visiting the library during the day. To avoid that, I asked Loki to make sure he is asleep for most of the time. He might have… overdone it.” She looked over at Loki now, who only nodded, but then decided to play along after Odin switched his gaze toward him as well. 

“I never got to practice that spell much - that is on me,” he concluded while looking away with an absent gaze. Then, he turned to face Odin and with all seriousness, added “Father, please. Just wait until he wakes up and you will find out the only one that has been lying to you is him.” 

There was a brief moment in which Ingrid didn’t know whether to intervene or not. She couldn’t tell if Odin had calmed down enough in order to even consider giving them both a chance, or if he was simply tired of the situation. Like a child waiting for their parent’s decision, Ingrid chased away the urge to keep nagging him. She refused to exchange worried glances with Loki, as well, even though she could see him look at her from the corner of her eye.

“I will listen to him,” Odin finally concluded. Ingrid’s body tensed up, but she stayed silent. She could see Loki rapidly turn his attention to his father. “But I cannot ignore the fact that both of you have gone behind my back, even if you were aware of it or not.” He emphasized the latter and shot Ingrid a stern look, to which she lowered her head and nodded. The Allfather went on, “If I find out any of you has lied to me, your punishment will be far worse. If any of you try to escape Asgard while that man is still unconscious, no matter the outcome of his confession, you will pay for it by being forever imprisoned within its dungeons.”

Again, the scene resembled a parent scolding his two children. The way Odin analyzed one and then the other. The way they both avoided looking at him directly when his attention turned to either of them. A moment of silence followed, which was supposedly meant to give them a moment to reconsider what they had said. She spent it processing everything instead, and almost flinched when Odin broke her little trance by speaking again.

“You come with me,” he said and looked at Loki, who was now almost grinning. Ingrid couldn’t help but frown a little when she saw him like that, thinking that his gesture would tick the scale to their disadvantage again. Odin didn’t seem to mind, though, and turned around to walk away. Before she could wonder what was going to happen to her, the Allfather stopped halfway out of the library. Loki, who was now following him, did the same. Ingrid took a step to the side to have a better vision over the two of them as they were leaving. Seeing that the both of them had stopped, she decided to remain where she was.

“Ingvarr, you said…,” Odin’s voice trailed off. He turned around and looked at her. The distance between them made Ingrid more comfortable, but she let him finish. “Did he get a proper funeral?” 

The sudden change of subject took her by surprise. Ingrid had never really thought about that part of her story. Supposedly, her father had died when she was still very young, and that was all there was to it. Nobody would bother to ask about such details when faced with someone left without a father at a young age. But Odin did. “He did,” came her reply.

“May he find his peace in the halls of Valhalla, then.”

The Allfather swiftly turned around after uttering those words, his long white robe swirling as he did so. She felt relieved he hadn’t waited for a response on her part, but then she looked at Loki. The man had not joined his father yet, but stayed behind and looked at her, his grin now gone. When the doors to the library opened, Loki nodded at her and quickly walked away to return to his place next to his father.

All the chaos was now gone. There was nothing but silence and darkness, and Ingrid dwelled in it. Averting a hurricane such as Odin’s anger was a task she never thought she would be up to. But only in the calmness of the now empty library did she realize what she had actually done. It was funny how, if she had known beforehand that she would need to go through this, she would probably have chickened out. Put in the face of the problem so abruptly, the adrenaline rush had made her completely immune to fear and insecurity, blocking those kinds of feelings like a dam. 

But dams could break. And since the danger was now far away, her adrenaline levels went back to normal. The dam broke, and everything she had involuntarily repressed hit her like a deluge would hit a small and unprepared village. 

A sudden uncontrollable tremor made her fall to her knees. It affected her breathing and made her feel like she no longer could draw in enough air to fill her lungs. As if something was stopping the passageway, and her mind could not figure out what it was, where it was exactly, or what to do to get rid of it. It seemed her only option was to sit there and wait to die. Even if there had been something she could do, she found herself unable to move anyway. Her blood had started to pound in her ears. She had enough air to stay conscious, only to feel nothing but fear that it could be gone any second. Fear. Every rational part of her had withered away, and there was nothing but fear left to cling to. 

She wanted to scream for help, but nothing came out. And she knew that it would have been useless anyway. There was no one around that could help. She was alone. There was nothing she could do about it. There was nothing she could do about anything anymore. If this unexplainable way was how she had to go, Ingrid could do nothing but feel angry about it.

This went on, she couldn’t tell for how long, but long enough to make death seem like a relief either way. 

Her breathing slowly became normal again after a while, but she wasn’t sure whether to trust it or not. She had never experienced anything like that, where it felt like her body had just decided it would fail for no reason at all. Her arms were still twitching every now and then, as if they hadn’t completely forgotten what had happened.

Ingrid started to draw in slow and deep breaths, while her senses slowly returned to her. For all she knew, she could have aged three years in those moments. She felt weak, and she wanted to throw herself on the floor and just sleep. Forget everything that happened. Maybe even wake up and find out everything had been a dream. That she was still waiting for Loki to arrive with the prisoner, and that she had dozed off in the library in the meantime.  

Nothing of the sort happened. Ingrid rose to her full length, despite her body protesting by cracking at random places and feeling ten times heavier. She instinctively brought her hand to her cheek and wiped off a tear. When had she even started crying? How many other things had she done that she could already not fully recall?

After locking the library and arriving home, Ingrid still felt as if she wasn’t inhabiting her body completely. For whatever reason, she feared it would move uncontrollably and that she would wake up trying to strangle Rangvald in his sleep or performing some other irrational behavior. She lingered in the kitchen for a while before searching for some small snack to eat. A couple of plain biscuits would do since her stomach would probably reject anything else more flavored anyway.

Rangvald was probably asleep, seeing there was no light coming from underneath his door. Sometimes, he would stay up and she would hear him stumble in the middle of the night searching for gods knew what. Other times, he would knock himself out early in the evening and wake up at noon the next day. There were times when he would nap for a couple of minutes and then head out completely refreshed. He was a strange man when it came to sleep schedules, but as every other peculiar behavior of his, Ingrid pinned it on his old age.

Ingrid was still sitting at the kitchen table minutes after having finished her biscuits. Her mind was too tired to think of anything in particular. All she wanted to do was go up and throw herself into her bed, but there was something she had to do first. Something she kept postponing until she realized it was almost the crack of dawn.

Groaning, she lifted herself up and made her way towards the door to Rangvald’s bedroom and softly knocked on it. She decided to do it like that first because she was unsure if he was a light sleeper or not. After understanding that no answer would come, she knocked again, a little harder this time. She heard something rumble within the room, and shortly after heard Rangvald’s footsteps coming towards the door. 

“It’s me,” she said before he got to open the door. When he did open it, he only left enough space to fit his head through it. She instantly regretted waking him upon seeing his confused expression, and almost decided against telling him why she had to wake him up.

“Did something happen, child?” he asked, his voice hoarse and weak, but concerned. Ingrid smiled at him wearily. 

“I’m sorry I woke you up. Can you… perhaps...” her voice trailed off. She mentally scolded herself for not having prepared the request in her head beforehand. “Can I take the day off tomorrow?”

Rangvald looked at her, scanning her from top to toe. “Of course you can. I can take over. Why, what happened?” 

This was no time to start explaining everything to him. While he still looked concerned, she could tell he was still half-asleep as well. “Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow,” she replied, trying to reassure him, and then followed with a classic change of subject. “Will you be alright? Did you have something else planned?” 

“Nothing that can’t wait until the day after tomorrow, or whenever you want to return. I’ve been wanting to check out things at the library, anyway.”

Her smile widened and turned into an amused one. “It’s only for tomorrow. Thank you, Rangvald. Sleep well.” 

He wished her the same, and then closed the door. Ingrid walked up the stairs thinking of what he had said — I’ve been wanting to check out things at the library. Well, he would find out the registry room was a mess, and that Odin was extremely pissed at the head librarian. Rangvald didn’t deserve to take in the aftermath of what she had caused. They had a deal, though, which she often found herself forgetting about — that even though they were supposed to work in shifts, she could take over his whenever she wanted to. It was convenient for both of them, and she had asked to cover his shift so many times she didn’t even need to ask anymore. 

The library wouldn’t burn down if one of them wasn’t there though. But she had felt the need to tell Rangvald she wanted to take the day off, and he had instantly seen it as a cue for him to go in her place. If he had wanted to check things out, he could have done so when she was there as well. It made her feel bad, sending him there after she had done what she had done. Maybe she should have insisted on him staying home as well. 

Those thoughts were gone as soon as her head hit her pillow. In all that haze and weakness, Ingrid hadn’t even bothered to change into nightclothes, or shut the door to her bedroom. Everything that concerned her faded into nothingness as the coldness of her sheets embraced her body.

---

When she woke up, the door to her bedroom was closed. The light was shining shyly through the curtains, which she couldn’t remember closing either. Everything that had happened was still a blur, but there, in the comfort of her bed, she felt safe for the time being. Which is why she lingered way longer than usual, trying to fall back asleep but failing miserably. She couldn’t tell what time it was, what had happened while she was asleep, or for how long she had been asleep. 

Ingrid slid off her bed and went on to wash herself and do her usual morning routine, even though the light outside told her it wasn’t exactly morning. When she went down the stairs, she saw Rangvald, and he greeted her with a suspiciously cheerful smile. 

“Beauty sleep, indeed,” he said. Instead of thinking of an answer, Ingrid’s mind took her for a short trip down memory lane.  

---

A few weeks earlier...

“I thought it was called beauty sleep, not beauty coma,” Rangvald joked. Ingrid had just woken up in the strangeness of what was to become her new bedroom for the next years. She had been instructed on how to behave when arriving on Asgard. No weird questions, no weird acting. The curtains had been raised, and the price for fucking up a line could be her head.

Moreover, the reasons for which Rangvald had accepted her as an apprentice were never to be questioned. For all she knew, she could have been randomly selected from a pool of students. She didn’t know if Ingrid, daughter of Ingvarr really existed and had been replaced by her, or if it was a made-up persona. Rangvald acted as if he had known her for years, however, which led her to believe that there had been some history between the real Ingrid and the old librarian. 

You will take on the name of Ingrid, her father had said while giving her a file. It contained all the information she needed to know about her character, from its backstory to its traits. While every single detail of the backstory was extremely important, the traits acted more as a guideline. A suggestion for what kind of character is best viewed among Asgardians.

Upon arriving at Rangvald’s home the day before, she hadn’t been completely unconscious. Her motor functions still worked, but her mind would not register anything but simple commands, such as that of a hand tugging her to move in either direction. It was a strange kind of feeling, and to say she hadn’t experienced second thoughts before being put under the spell would have been a lie. She had feared it would make her act bizarrely. Her father had given her countless guarantees that she should not worry about that part. 

And she ended up not giving it much thought at all after realizing she could not remember anything about how she had gotten to Asgard. So as for waking up in the bed, Ingrid only assumed that whoever had brought her there had guided her to the bedroom and told her to go to sleep. And her body had happily obliged.

“Good morning,” she shyly replied, ignoring his joke.

The old man had prepared breakfast, and was now brewing what she thought could only be tea. Ingrid slowly descended the stairs, her legs a little shaky and weak. “Come and eat. You look like you need it. You were so tired yesterday evening you barely spoke.”

Ingrid let out an embarrassed laugh. “It’s all so new and strange to me. I’m sorry if I came out as rude.”

Rangvald poured tea equally into two mugs. “You were not, child. Make yourself at home. I will show you around today, and tomorrow we can start working together.”

Ingrid sighed. She had hoped the man would give something away, without her having to ask. Something along the lines of, I’m glad you finally accepted my offer, or perhaps, I’m happy I haven’t trained you this long for nothing. Anything, really, that could give her an insight into who Ingrid really was, if she existed already, and why everything had come so perfectly together. To her, it seemed to be the hand of a mastermind, something that she could only aspire towards. 

Her father couldn’t have done all this by himself. She knew he had help, but how many people in Asgard knew of her real origin? Did Rangvald know? If he was an ally, why had her father forbidden her from getting too close to Rangvald as well? Did it mean he had been somehow tricked as well? By who? 

Soon enough, she would find Rangvald didn’t really care about getting too close to her. He made sure to meet her basic needs, but not because he had to, but because he wanted to. He had never had a family, she would find out. He couldn’t really focus anymore, and he suffered from short term memory loss sometimes. He had a short attention span as well, and never asked too many questions, mainly because he didn’t care.

All of these could make him the perfect confidante, but Ingrid knew better than to overshare. No matter how comfortable she was with someome, she knew better than to fall into that kind of trap. So she curled her fingers around the cup of tea that Rangvald had pushed towards her and flashed him the kindest smile she could give.

---

“How long was I out?” she asked, a guilty smile plastered on her face. Her fingers lazily trailed down the railing as she slowly stepped down the stairs. 

“For the rest of the night, and for most of the day. I came home a little earlier, I figured the assistants could handle it,” he explained. Ingrid was now standing across the dining table, watching him as he prepared something to eat. She wasn’t sure what problem to address first. “That prisoner of yours, he woke up,” Rangvald added out of the blue, dissolving her little dilemma.  

Ingrid’s eyes widened, and she immediately attempted to justify herself, “About that—”

“Shush. He confessed, apparently. The prince, Loki, came around and searched for you. When I told him you were at home, asleep, he seemed to hold back a laugh and asked if I could deliver a message. ‘Tell her the prisoner woke up and confessed,’ he said. Strange one, he is,” Rangvald said the last part more to himself, but Ingrid caught it. He turned around and placed a plateau of snacks on the table. 

“Why would you say that?” she asked, but did not put any kind of emphasis on it. For him, it would sound like a matter-of-fact type of question, but Ingrid’s heart skipped a beat after hearing him say it. Maybe it had something to do with how Loki had found out about how she had lied about her punishment for the book. 

“Well, what is so amusing about you sleeping?” 

Ingrid stared at him blankly and shrugged. There was no point in trying to dig deeper, as it was more than obvious Rangvald was already starting to divert. It was a surprise he had even remembered Loki’s message, word for word apparently. She watched him take a bite of the food he had prepared from the table, but she couldn’t bring herself to do the same. Her stomach was the least of her problems — Ingrid was still attempting to digest the news, and figure out how she should feel about it.

[kashimos-hajime]

May I have some director’s commentary on Honeyed Tea and Walk Me Home?

yes of course!!

send me a fic/scene you want a “director’s cut” of

Honeyed Tea: so this was written maybe in the week after I saw FFH, and let me just say, i’m a huge fan of hurt/comfort, so when I remembered Quen got fired from Stark Industries (SI), I thought, what if his best friend (occasional hook up) learned about it? I also never write fluff so this was a good chance to get all my soft feels out about Quentin.

The dynamic between them was so fun to write, because Reader definitely knows how to push his buttons, and she’s definitely not afraid of him, straight out telling that she quit for him, as well as unfraid of yelling at him. That kind of Reader is fun to write. I love writing strong characters and this Reader is definitely one of them.

(maybe one day i should write a weak reader, but who knows?)

“Oh, so this is a hookup now?” you whisper, gaze flickering from his eyes to his plush lips. Your hand on his cheek slides to curl around his neck, fingers playing with tiny hairs along the nape as you swallow what’s left of your inhibitions. If you have to sit here another moment with your hot best friend’s hands on your hips without any action, you might go crazy.

“Well, I wouldn’t say hookup. Too crass.”

“Oh, you’re so classy.”

The teasing! The wittiness! I love them so much. It was important to me that Reader’s internal dialogue - describing Quentin as hot in this paragraph for exmaple - reflected her actions. And the tea. Let me just say, I wanted to end this on humour and I thought of this on a car ride to school. Throughout the whole fic, you can tell they know each other pretty well/they’ve done this before, and obviously they’re going to be loose and fun with it, so the tea was just a fun little thing to add going back. I added all the tea bits, about how much reader loved tea after I finished the fic!

Walk Me Home: This fic!! It kinda has an unexpected place in my heart because of how much Reader flip flops between feeling like kissing Quen and slapping him, because human emotions are messy. The idea for a Stark-Parker!Reader came to me at night, when I was trying to think why she was with Peter. Being a SHIELD agent didn’t work, because then she’d have no previous interaction with Quentin. I wanted her to know him intimately well, so in a way, this is kind of like a scorned!reader fic.

I really wanted to emphasize on how much Reader cares for Peter in the few lines I could spare without making it a big thing because otherwise I would’ve gone on and on. Her being protective with Peter, her dad, and the protocols he made, her volunteering in his place, are just some hints. The one conversation Peter and YN have - it’s also clear that they have a very open relationship since she openly accepts Peter calling her bitchy. I also wanted to establish that YN was close to her father and Quentin, despite them being ‘enemies’, and that Quentin’s feelings for reader are 100% genuine. It was hard to find the balance, because Quentin lying and Reader knowing about it made it hard to sway her to keep his secret.

The ring. Ah, the ring. That’s how I fixed it. First off, it established that Quentin was completely serious about her since he is held at basically knifepoint by his ex. 

You want him to dig up his memories, rip him apart, thrash him with his guilt. You want him to hurt, you want him to care enough to say them.

God, you want him to love you, still and you hate yourself for it.

Reader still loves him, which sucks, unfortunately, Quentin is an asshole.

“You suck.” Your voice twists as a flat smile works its way onto your face. “You’re awful, you know that?” Your fingers run over your eyes, trying to plug the tears as you paste on that fake smile of yours. “You might be the worst person I’ve ever met, and I’ve met aliens and killer robots, and people who have bombed the U.N., so it’s actually quite an achievement.”

Once I factored the ring, it became easy to give Reader the fuel to shoot at Quentin. It became easy to show how Quentin thought Reader got him fired, how much he loved her and her, him. Everything just clicked. The ring was the answer! 

(PS, if you want more on specific scenes, go ahead and send me another ask!! im trying to keep these short so they arent too long to read)

[kaette-kita-slayers]

Slayers V.1 Translation Comparison (Part 1, ~p.24)

This is the first installment of a comparison of the Tokyopop translation of the Slayers novels against the original Japanese. There are a ton of changes, so it's not going to be possible for me to catalogue every single one---I'd have to retranslate almost everything in order to do that! I'm focusing on things that make some kind of difference to the narrative, or that strike me as being of interest.

I apologize if the formatting is kind of confusing; I haven’t been able to come up with a better way to present it. ^^;

If you don't have a copy of the Tokyopop edition handy, this post from The Slayers Blog has the first chapter.

To start off, the first book is just titled Slayers!, with no subtitle. "The Ruby Eye" was added by Tokyopop.

The opening paragraphs are a good example of the kind of minor changes that I may not cover, since practically the entire book is like this:

English:

So there I was, tearing through the woods at top speed, a gang of murderous bandits hot on my tail.

Why were they chasing me, you ask? Well, it’s a long, boring story and besides, where I come from, it’s not all that odd to find yourself being chased through the woods at top speed by a gang of murderous bandits. Especially if you’re me.

If you really want to know why I can tell you, but you don’t need to know why. Actually, it’s probably safer if you don’t know. Look, it might ruin the story for you, okay? And you wouldn’t want to ruin the story, would you? Of course, you wouldn’t.

So anyway, where were we before I was so rudely interrupted? Ah, yes: I was tearing through the woods at top speed, a gang of murderous bandits hot on my tail.

Japanese:

They were after me.

... Okay, if you say, "So what?", I have to admit you've got me there... It's true that this isn't all that unusual, generally speaking, and it's practically an everyday occurrence for me in particular.

Still, stories have a certain structure, and you have to build up to the good stuff, so I'd appreciate it if you could just put up with it for now.

Anyway, they'd almost caught up to me.

It’s pretty heavily embellished, but everything in the English version has some basis in the Japanese text.

Missing from the English version: Lina mentions that she's in need of money because she hasn't had any work lately.

The "speck of pixie dust" line is sort of in the Japanese text, though she actually says "dirt from under a pixie's nail".

English:

Not being big on precautionary measures, I screeched to a halt and peeked out from beneath my hood to evaluate my options. The trees on either side of the road were too dense for me to cut through. Even at midday, I wouldn’t be able to see two feet in front of me.

Japanese:

I had been letting my mind wander, but then I came to a sudden halt.

Both sides of the road had a dense overgrowth of trees, stretching like a canopy overhead. The highway, devoid of travelers, stretched on ahead, cutting through them. The midday sun blazed down.

There’s nothing about Lina trying to cut through the trees or having trouble seeing. Or wearing a hood, for that matter.

English:

Now, when I say road, bear in mind that the road we were running on was more like a path. It was as though some guy had hacked his way through the woods with a machete, figuring that hiking single file was a fine method of travel. Weeds grew high on either side, and starting a scuffle in them was not exactly appealing.

Japanese:

Although it was a path stretching straight through the forest, it was fairly wide, with plenty of space for a violent confrontation. If I were foolish enough to stop in a spot where the road was narrow, they'd be able to slash at me from the thickets on either side.

Overall, the English version seems to be trying to make her sound surprised and worried, while in Japanese it's more like she noticed the bandits’ trap ahead of time and successfully avoided getting caught in a bad situation.

English:

Still, I had to say something to flush them out. “I know you’re there,” I shouted...

Japanese:

I thought about saying something to them, but I couldn't come up with anything witty, so I kept silent for the time being.

I stood there waiting, as a way of declaring, "I know you're following me."

Exactly the opposite.

English:

“Well, hello there, toots.”

Who’s it gonna be this time? I wondered. A talking skeleton, maybe? A zombie? Nope.

Japanese:

Lina actually says that not even a skeleton or zombie would say such a crappy cliched line nowadays.

They cut a sentence where Lina says that the bandit looks like the type of character that would be easily defeated before the halfway point of a story.

English:

No duh, genius.

“And now, here ya are, all by yer lonesome and at our mercy.” He licked his lips.

Japanese:

I couldn't take it anymore. I mean, I've always thought that creeps like this guy probably can't manage to cram even a hundred words into their brains, but still, couldn't he manage to find something a little less stereotypical to say?

English:

“Ya look like a biter, ya do, and I don’t fancy tussling with a gal who’d leave me marked.”

Japanese:

“If I fought you for real, I'd probably end up in a world of hurt.”

I get that they’re trying to emphasize that the bandit is a creep, but this still made me raise an eyebrow.

English:

“Speaking strictly as a professional, I gotta say I was impressed.”

Japanese:

“Even we wouldn't go that far.”

English:

No rest for the wicked, I always say.

Japanese:

My motto is, "The bad guys have no rights".

I can see how that would turn into "No rest for the wicked" except it's used incorrectly here, making it sound like Lina is talking about herself in Tokyopop's version. She's justifying her attack on the bandits in the original.

English:

“At first we figured we’d chase ya down and exact our revenge, in a fashion befitting our scurrilous reputation...”

Japanese:

“Now, normally we'd have to kill you or pursue you until every last one of us is dead in order to get revenge for the boss...”

It’s not an important difference, I guess, but I’m not sure why they dropped those details.

English:

Join up with you? I feel like I need to take a shower just for talking to you, cretin.

Japanese:

Lina adds a little aside in the narration:

I hate getting involved in anything crooked. ...I swear, really.

English:

I acted like I was thinking it over.

Not there in Japanese.

English:

"It’s what ya might call nonviolent conflict resolution, makin’ the best out of a had situation. Give and take: We make use of yer talents, and ya got yerself a gang. Ya give us back our stolen treasure, and we let ya keep breathing."

Japanese:

“You just do what I tell you, that's all. I'll make it worth your while, you won't want for anything. So how about it, doesn't sound so bad, does it?”

The English version sounds oddly threatening, considering that he’s trying to win her over.

Missing in English: Lina mentions that her attack on the bandits was several days prior to this.

English:

"Never know what kind of scum’s roaming around this neck of the woods. Ain’t no place to be a-napping."

Japanese:

“We're not gonna get anywhere if we keep hanging around here. We've gotta find a new home base.”

The word used for "home (base)" has the kanji for "sleep" in it, so I guess that's why the English version reads the way it does?

English:

Bear in mind, I hadn’t said a word since he’d started yammering. I stood there silently while he went on and on and on. And on. And on, some more. What is it with men loving to hear the sound of their own voice?

Right about the time he started winding down with, “So, toots, how’s about it?” I sensed another presence entering our sphere. Hmmm…

Japanese:

He was feeling pressured because of me. I had been entirely silent the whole time.

I have a naturally chirpy, girlish voice, so he'd probably feel relieved if I started talking. Of course, I felt no obligation to do so.

He just kept talking at me, while I simply stood there silently. He was clearly getting more and more irritated as I let him talk until he was blue in the face.

"So? What do you think, huh?"

There’s nothing about Lina sensing a presence in Japanese.

English:

I dug my heels in the ground to emphasize my point.

Not there in Japanese.

English:

Oh, bravo. I can see why it took you so long to come up with that one.

Not there in Japanese.

English:

Oh sure, the ten guys puffed up their chests and made a show of how tough they were, which I suppose I appreciated, but really. Ten guys? It was as if they had no faith in me. Sad.

Japanese:

The man was clearly shaken, to a hilarious degree. It must have unsettled him that I wasn't upset by the number of men out there.

English:

Those peabrains were way beneath my talents, and I was starting to get bored, when…

Japanese:

In that case, I'll have to settle this through force...

English:

“Shall I wait for you to call some friends, so we can have a fair fight?”

The presence I’d sensed earlier!

Japanese:

"Hold it right there."

Again, there’s nothing about a presence.

English:

Somebody cue the chorus of angels, would you?

Japanese:

The scene deserved a fanfare.

I just wanted to point this one out because I like the English translation here.

English:

“Piece of advice, fellas: If you all take off at a dead sprint now, a few of you might actually make it back to the rock you’ve crawled from under before I catch up and exterminate you like the vermin you are. One or two of you might even escape with your lives. That is, if you start right now.”

Japanese:

“You'd better turn tail and run back where you came from, you thieves. If you do, I'll at least spare your lives.”

It’s not that different, but the English version makes it sound like he wants to chase them down and kill them regardless, which isn't like Gourry.

English:

Not a bad threat, I thought.

Not there in Japanese.

English:

So what if she could’ve handled the whole thing on her own and the handsome rescuer in question didn’t have the verbal acuity she was hoping for? A gal can’t afford to be too picky these days, can she?

I can't find anything like this in the Japanese text. This and the preceding paragraph are both just Lina complaining about how unbelievably cliched the situation is, up to and including the handsome guy showing up out of nowhere.

English:

“Ya little… !”

Oh no. You think he’ll do any better this time?

“Ya impertinent cad!”

Guess not.

“We’re gonna feed ya both yer livers now! Have at ‘em, boys!”

Japanese:

This is all one line of dialogue with no comments from Lina.

English:

Anyway, there I was, shrieking like my life depended on it and pretending I had no idea what was going on around me. Sadly, the whole thing wrapped up quickly.

Japanese:

I got completely caught up in the whole shrieking thing, so I'm not sure exactly what happened, but at any rate, it wrapped up quickly.

English:

... had I not been a gifted sorceress with the enhanced hearing that accompanies that role...

What? That's not in the original at all.

English:

Just a kid? Okay. That stung a little.

Not there in Japanese.

English:

I mean, I like kids. I want to be a standup guy, but c’mon! Ten guys, I fought! Ten guys!

Not there in Japanese.

English:

What's the big deal, huh? At least I can run fast and my clothes hang right. Boobs are overrated, if you ask me.

Japanese:

It's true that sometimes I look younger than I really am...

English:

I guessed maybe all that blond hair was making it hard for him to see. I mean, if it had been me, I’d like to think I’d have figured out pretty quickly that the lovely creature before me was no helpless little kid.

Japanese:

The man couldn't see, since it was hidden by my hair, but I could tell that my eyebrow was twitching like crazy.

(It literally says the area around her temple was twitching, but that sounds weird in English, at least to me?)

English:

"I don’t live anywhere, exactly… I was just heading to Atlas City—”

Japanese:

"I don't have any particular destination in mind... I thought I'd go see Atlas City, for the time being..."

English:

... he said in a maddeningly condescending tone.

This isn’t there in Japanese, at least not at this point. There is an almost identical line a little later in the scene, attached to a different bit of dialogue.

The English version has a weird habit of rearranging the text slightly, which I mostly haven’t noted, but moving this line seems like an awfully pointless choice.

English:

What?! I don’t even think I understand what it is you think that I think that you don’t understand!

In retrospect, I think he thought he’d rescued a helpless little girl who’d been forced to live on her own as a result of some sort of tragedy At the time, I suspected he was going to keep spewing the same reassurances until he died of suffocation or I died of embarrassment. One of us had to put an end to it.

Japanese:

Ugh.

I had been desperately trying to keep from exploding with anger, as I tend to do, so I had kept my head down while I spoke, holding back my emotions. Apparently this guy had mistaken that to mean that he'd asked me about something I couldn't bring myself to talk about. He must have assumed that I'm some unfortunate little girl who had been forced to leave her hometown due to some kind of circumstances.

English:

“I’m an adventuress, off to see the world.” I was telling him the truth—which, incidentally, was no small feat for me!

The word "adventuress" seems like a weird choice to me. That and the "no small feat" part aren't in the original.

English:

Okay, now, this just sucks. For once in my life, I’m not making excuses!

I didn’t know what else to say.

Japanese:

... he said, as though he were patiently explaining something to a small child.

... I'm getting nowhere.

English:

... without succumbing to the temptation to commit the premeditated murder of a blond.

Japanese:

... my stomach might dissolve from the stress.

I like this paragraph in the English translation!

English:

He was obviously committed to the idea.

Japanese:

Who are you to decide that for me?!

English:

We hadn’t been on the road twenty minutes before he felt the need to speak again.

Japanese:

It just says "a little while", not "twenty minutes".

English:

I considered giving him a fake name, but honestly, I was too tired to see the point.

Japanese:

For an instant, out of sheer irritation, I considered giving him a fake name, but I decided not to since it would be pointless.

I wonder why the English version keeps de-emphasizing Lina’s anger in this scene?

English:

And I am a traveler. So maybe I left out a few important details. So what? Gourry had already proven he wasn’t the type to ask penetrating questions. I figured that he’d buy pretty much anything I wanted to sell him about my circumstances, which, as far as I was concerned, was a point in his favor.

Japanese:

It was utterly obvious that the part about being an ordinary traveler was a lie, yet Gourry deliberately didn't ask any questions to try to get to the bottom of things. He probably thought that I was lying because of some kind of circumstances.

The English version implies that Gourry isn’t asking questions out of stupidity or complacency, while in Japanese Lina assumes that he’s doing so out of (mistaken) consideration for her feelings.

English:

And he really wasn’t getting under my skin like I’d figured he would. Still, the prospect of being treated like a kid all the way to Atlas City did not bode well for either of us. Not that I wanted him to flirt with me, that’s not what I’m saying. I just… I’m digging a hole here, aren’t I? Okay, whatever. Let’s just leave it at: He seemed like a nice guy.

Japanese:

"Man..." he muttered under his breath, thinking that I wouldn't be able to hear him. "I've gotta look after a little kid till we get to Atlas City, huh? Not the sexiest thing in the world, but I guess it's not so bad."

Yeah, he still pisses me off.

I'm not sure how they managed it, but it looks like someone confused Gourry’s dialogue with Lina’s narration here.

[jdramione]

I'm not sure where to start either. Oh my goodness. Firstly, I cannot emphasize enough how much your comment means to me. I absolutely may print it out and frame it in my small office in my bedroom closet, for me and only me to read and remind myself, when I'm having a day where I feel no one sees me, or understands me - that someone out there looked in between the lines and understood the emotion I was attempting to portray, even if the verbiage was messy and clunky, and the story full of newbie errors and plot holes. Your comment captured so much about what I've tried to say, without always being able to say it as succinctly nor as lyrically as you have been able to capture. I have sat on this review for a week now, delighting in it at first, and then letting it sink it, and then, letting it just be with me. Someone out there got something out of what I was trying to put out there, and that is just... well, everything to me. Inspiration and validation and weirdly, making me feel much less alone, as any author understands, can often be very isolating. Thank goodness for our friends, the characters.

This is my first writing effort, and it has been hard. Both just figuring out writing itself, structuring a sentence together, and then puzzling out a paragraph that contains feels and less words. Things for me, in real life this past year, have been very hard. A large chunk of me broke, and without going into why, because it's never one big thing and harder to explain why little things that add up mean so much to someone else when it's just the cherry on top that knocks you down. But, despite this year and a half of what felt like desperation, grief, and loneliness - I have put so many months of work into this story behind the scenes. I have the involvement of the greatest human being ever known, a beta who just stepped into my life and has held my hand for a year now, as we've gone back and fixed so many missing pieces in order for me to go forward. Nothing has changed in content, but it's better.

I am caught up and I'm working on finalizing the next chapter currently. The story grew. A LOT. So I'm in a weird predicate in that I will be uploading the new/updated chapters very soon - and these chapters that are currently here will be no more. I will probably piece them together in one story, for those who want to keep the old - I know there are stories out there that I find some specific sentence or paragraph, and it just moves me in a way I couldn't imagine, that I go back to, time and time again.

But the new chapters will be the same - just better, more thorough, more thought-out. I've laid a bit more foundation in order to grow upon, and a lot more characterization. The story got darker. It had to. I realized I was holding back because I was protecting others, but the story is what needs to be told, and I won't hide from all of it once re-posted. The trigger warnings will be very important to acknowledge, but I am not a fan of pre-warning specific plot point triggers, because I don't like chapters spoiled for me when authors do it, and I refuse to do it on my own chapters. But there are more flashbacks in more details, and they are very hard to read, and were even harder to write. I find my own heart racing and feel my body in panic writing certain scenes, so I think that's when you know it's right.

There is also a lot of fluff that I've written that felt very new and fresh, and on second read, or third, I realized I got nothing from it, and that's a new experience as an author - trying to decide what needs to be deleted for the benefit of the story. My beta has been the most helpful about telling me - this scene is good but should be later, or you've repeated the same thought process here 15 times - lets take it down to one. She gets me, and supports my enthusiasm for the art that is storytelling, and it's been really lovely to have a hand to hold during this first endeavor, especially considering the content. There's nothing light or easy about this story, and while I totally 100% realize this is just fiction, it's all pretend, it's all made-up... my priority was making the subject topic and recovery as normalized and relatable and real as someone of my newbie standing could possibly endeavor to attempt.

So much fiction has helped me in my own personal trauma recoveries. I want to do this justice for someone else in the same way.

I got stuck in a place yet to come. A tree, planted in my path with no way around. My mind reads certain scenes and detours and before I know it I've gone left when I should have stayed straight. I think the largest problem I've discovered as an author is how much storytelling can be possible, and that I have so many stories I want to tell. Staying within the boundaries of this story has been a struggle. I can take it here, or I could do this with this character, or the plot could do this - and lets make it sci-fi... the decisions are difficult and when I say I have worked hard on this story, that does include spending days writing a tangent that ultimately didn't belong in the story I needed to tell.

I sincerely hope the future chapters do the previous justice, and I really hope you will all stick with me as the story is updated. Because the story had so much added to it, I think there are like... I don't know, 12 or 13 chapters now instead of the original 8 that lead to the same current place. So I've seriously debated about the best way to go about this. If anyone has recommendations, do let me hear them, as I've struggled whether to update to where I am, or wait until the next chapter is ready. But I will want everyone to go back to the beginning once the new are posted and re-read because there is MORE. And I don't want anyone to get unfairly excited about a new chapter as I'm posting the additional, without them being "new." I don't want to be misleading or take anyone off guard.

Anyway - I've gone on too long. But I wanted you to know that you reading this story and writing what you wrote - you just have no idea what it meant to - what it means to me. Thank you. I hope you will read the new bits as I update the current chapters. I realize that this was my first huge newbie mistake - posting before the story was complete - and while I will be continuing it one chapter at a time, this will be the one time the past chapters will be updated.

I hope you are well, thank you for reading, and for taking the time to leave such a lovely comment. Feedback is such an incredible motivator, and I have been particularly blessed in the positive encouragement I have received in this first attempt at storytelling on a very difficult subject.

[shitkkwrites]

Closeted Feelings; Ch.1: Red Day Shenanigans

Hello @paladinquen, I’m your NedCan secret Valentine! Due to the rather wide scope of genre you gave me (honestly when I found out you were my Valentine I kind of freaked out, rip me), I decided to go focus on the Red / White Day shenanigans featuring these two fabulous dorks. This is actually split in two chapters, due to following the trend of February 14 being Red Day, and March 14 being White Day. Yes there’s a rejection scene in this, but the (happy) resolution will present itself in the second chapter, so enjoy!

Also on: ao3

Léa - Belgium, Lars - Netherlands, Henri - Luxembourg (only mentioned in passing)

2018.02.11; 3 days to D-Day

Why did he like putting everything off until the last-minute?! What was it with him and rushing things, anyway? He didn’t know why, but he was lucky to have scored the last packets of baking chocolate in the shop he’d dropped by, albeit the shop clerk had grumbled in his direction that he was cutting it way too close to the ‘rush’ that was Valentines’ Day; also known as ‘Red Day’ among the student body.

He’d even gotten a rather cheeky leer from the shopkeeper about last-minute presents and had given him a couple of molds half-price for him to make use of once he’d gotten home. Once his purchases had been wrapped up—and he’d been all but shooed out of the store—he then made his way back out on the streets and began skirting his way through the crowd. He could see a lot of people as giddy as he was, running around and making last-minute purchases for the special occasion coming in a few days, and he couldn’t blame them at all—everyone wanted the fourteenth to go off without a hitch.

To be honest, so did he.

After brushing some stray bangs that were falling into his line of vision, he looked up and continued to make his way back to his apartment—he’d agonize over all the details in private later.

2018.02.11; Brotherly Conversations

“Why are you so uptight about the fourteenth, anyway?”

That was the question that Matthew had asked his younger brother, Alfred, as the other was busy running around the kitchen in a panic. While he’d already purchased all of the obligatory chocolates that he was going to hand out in a couple of days, Alfred had insisted on making his own chocolates.

“Alfie, brother, you’re doing it wrong. Most of the obligatory chocolates, you buy. Why’re you making all of yours?” he continued, watching as his brother continued to rush around the place, trying not to melt down and cause a disaster. “I’m all set to go on that day, but you’re losing your head over something so small and trivial.”

“Mattie, bro, you don’t understand, I really want to leave an impact! Which is why I’m making it all from scratch!” the younger blonde exclaimed as he ran over to the boiling pot on the stove so he could stir the melting chocolate without risking it burning for staying on the fire too long.

“Alfie, how many times do I have to tell you, you’ve got it reversed? You only make the chocolate for the one you want to confess to! Don’t tell me you have someone in mind already?!” he exclaimed, watching as his younger brother turned around to glower at him with an embarrassed blush on his face.

“Sh-shut up, Mattie! I’m not like you, you’re oh-so-completely oblivious when it comes to acknowledging your own feelings for other people! Admit it, you’re just scared because of what happened to you before…” Alfred retorted, not realizing he’d overstepped a line in the process. He then grew silent the moment he remembered what he said, before muttering a hasty apology and returning his attention to the chocolate he was melting.

Maybe he does have a point… but… I would rather think not… the older of the two pondered to himself after listening to his brother’s tirade (yet again). It was a very sore topic for Matthew, at the very least when romance or anything similar to it was mentioned; which was why he tended to avoid it altogether. But he couldn’t help himself, though—how come this guy from another class kept on, well, trying to talk with him? He’d already made it very clear he wasn’t interested in him…

“…Alfie, do you think…” Matthew began, staring at the table while gathering his thoughts. “…do you think that exchange student…” he continued to mutter, biting his lip as he tried to find the right words to say.

“Bro, I already told you once, I’ll tell you again: quit being dense. Honestly, it’ll get you into more trouble than you’re asking for…” Alfred trailed off, holding the wooden spoon up before sighing and attacking the mound of melting chocolate in the pot. “I find it weird that I’m the younger between us, but you’re the one having problems like this. ‘s kinda weird, you know…”

“…I know, I know I’m weird, shut up,” Matthew retorted as he then stood up from the table. “I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

2018.02.13; Tension in the Air

“Hey, Keeks! I… I have a question for you,” Alfred called out, once he’d spotted his friend through the crowd of students. They didn’t share as many classes together as they could’ve, so talking to him in the hallways was the next best thing.

“Hai, Alfred-san, what is it?” the Japanese exchange student asked, stopping in his tracks to allow the other to catch up with him. Once the loud blonde had come in view, Alfred then blurted out the question without even thinking, “Keeks, did I get it wrong? Mattie told me that the handmade chocolates are the ones you’re supposed to give to your friends… or is it? Or did I remember this all wrong again?”

That earned a bit of a smile from the other, before he replied, “You got it wrong, you know. Your older brother is correct—the handmade chocolates are supposed to be for the person you want to… well, confess your feelings to. Everything else is the obligatory chocolates that everyone gets handed. Don’t tell me you did—” he trailed off, watching the coloration on Alfred’s face drain.

“I—what?! Seriously?!” was all he could exclaim, before the other student nodded and looked over his shoulder. “Oh, speaking of which, your brother’s here, I must go,” he muttered before giving a small bow and leaving Alfred to turn around right in time to avoid crashing into Matthew.

“See, Alfie? I told you so. You got it all wrong,” he began with a teasing grin on his face, to which Alfred responded with a very pointed eyeroll. “Yeah, yeah, no need to rub it in, geez… at least I have a lot of chocolates to eat later… wait, why’re you here? Aren’t you supposed to be in--?”

“I know, Alfie, but that’s not the point, I just wanted to talk to you about… well, remember what we talked about a few days ago? Guess what… he dropped by my class again! And this time he even talked with Carlos, so I definitely think he’s trying to stalk me!”

“What? No way, bro? He talked with Carlos? What for?!” Alfred asked, wiggling his eyebrows in Matthew’s direction.

“I don’t know! Hell, when I asked him about it, Carlos only gave me a look that said ‘it’s for me to know and for you to find out’ without even telling me what it was about! I don’t know, Alfie… things are getting weird around here…” he groaned, running his hands through his hair. He honestly had no idea why the freakishly-tall guy frequently came by to talk with his classmates before hurriedly leaving the scene whenever Matthew would catch him around the area.

Seriously, what was with him?!

2018.02.13; 2 hours before ‘Dawn of the Final Day’

“Sister, do you think I’m doing it wrong?”

The video call was on, and he was busy typing up an assignment that he had to turn in the following day. Never mind if his visits to Matthew Williams’ classroom were becoming more and more frequent, he was trying to get the courage he needed so that he could do what he was planning to accomplish tomorrow! While he’d heard from most of the students that ‘Red Day’ was when people swapped chocolates with each other, he knew that there was at least a significant difference when it came to store-bought chocolate and handmade treats.

“Well, this isn’t the first time you’ve tried doing this, right? What’s stopping you now?” came the reply from his sister over the video call. While it was pretty late for Lars, it was early morning over in Belgium—he was lucky to catch his sister Léa before she’d left for her university classes. “I know you’re nervous. I mean, it’s pretty damn obvious…”

“You think?” he continued, typing away as he added onto the essay he was trying to cram for the next day. “I don’t know if he’ll actually take the chocolate, you know. It was hell looking for the cheapest block I could find!”

“Seriously… seriously, Lars? You’re going to make chocolates, and then you use the cheapest kind?! If you’re really hell-bent on ‘confessing’ to him,” she continued, using ‘quotation marks’ as she emphasized the word ‘confessing’ before smacking her palms to her face out of sheer annoyance, “…you should’ve gone all-out and used something much better! Don’t tell me you nabbed the discount chocolate?!”

“What?! Is it so bad for me to try and save money?” he countered, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the camera as he continued to type away, before realizing that half the paragraph he was working on was wrong. Huffing to himself as he highlighted and erased what he’d written, he then sighed before continuing, “You know I’m living on a budget here! It’s hard enough as it is, and I have to try and keep my scholarship! That leaves me with little to no time to look for a part-time job,” he grumbled as he snorted and began rewriting the paragraph he’d crossed out.

“Yeah, I know you are. It’s just that… do you really have to take your frugality that far? Seriously, brother… seriously…” she tsked, shaking her head and chuckling for a few moments. “Anyway, I have to go now, do you have anything you want me to tell Henri?”

“Well, just tell him I said hi, and to keep his nose out of other people’s business. You know how incredibly nosy he can get…” he grumbled as he then waved with one hand before eventually disconnecting the call. Sighing, as he knew that he might’ve messed up, he then turned his attention to the small box that contained the chocolate he was going to give Matthew the next day.

I hope nothing too bad happens… he thought to himself as he rubbed the sides of his head as he returned his attention to the essay he needed to finish.

2018.02.14, ‘D-Day’

Both Matthew and Alfred, along with the rest of the student body, had turned up to school carrying large paper bags full of the obligatory chocolates they needed to give out. While Alfred had gone to join his classmates (and was seeking out his friends in other courses), Matthew had mostly distributed his chocolates to his classmates as well as teachers he’d met throughout the day.

He’d even managed to give some to Kiku as well, and had a laugh with the Japanese exchange student as he told Matthew what Alfred had been up to, having eaten most of the chocolates he’d made the night before (and was now literally distributing handfuls of Kisses chocolates to his friends instead as some kind of weird compensation). After they’d exchanged the obligatory friendship chocolates, Matthew then made his way back to his homeroom—only to be stopped in the hallways by the person he was secretly hoping to avoid.

It was Lars van Meijer, the tall Dutch weirdo who’d stalked his classroom every single chance he could get for the past two years now. Hell, he didn’t even know why the guy had spoken with Carlos and Paolo (as well as everyone else he could approach without scaring them off in the process). Was he asking about information on him?! Who knows.

“W-well, fancy seeing you here. What do y-you want… are you…” Matthew began, stammering for a few moments before managing to pull together his best impression of a glare, looking the taller one down as a pair of light-green eyes stared at the light purple that were now boring a hole right into him. “What, i-is there something on my face?” he stammered out, suddenly running a hand over his own features to check for whatever blemishes were there—which were of course, nonexistent.

Now that Lars had finally managed to corner Matthew Williams, he’d lost the ability to articulate properly, and had settled instead for staring at the slightly shorter one, clearing his throat several times before eventually reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a small, giftwrapped box.

“Cat got your tongue?” Matthew continued, now looking at him and observing the other’s actions with a curious light in his eyes. Just as he was about to skirt around the other and return to his classroom, he then felt something being pushed into his hands. Blinking at the sudden action, he then looked at the other, before staring at what was being shoved into his hands—and felt a wave pf panic rising up inside him.

No. Oh, no. No, no, no, no! What the hell is this?! He thought in a panic, before looking at the other—who was now avoiding having to look at Matthew directly. Lars was waiting for the other to accept the gift he’d made for him, his ears turning red as he waited for something—anything—to come from his intended recipient.

“…I’m sorry, I—I… I can’t accept this,” Matthew finally managed to say, once he recognized the package in his hands. “I—I would really want to, but… I c-can’t. I—I hope you understand…” he said, before dropping the box in the process and making a mad sprint down the hall towards his classroom; the better to put as much distance between himself and the strange one as fast as humanly possible.

It had taken a few moments for Lars to comprehend what had happened—a few seconds ago, Matthew Williams was right in front of him; and then when he’d thought to blink, the blonde had vanished. He thought all had gone right until he looked down and saw that the giftwrapped box he’d tried to give the other had fallen there…

What had he done wrong?!