#i finished the public school arc the other day so that's what's with the first one

[cyrilvows]

some wizard dad au doodles from a few days ago

[akisunlovesnalu]

Take a bite of my Heart Tonight

A fairy tail AU that's been rotting in my notes for the last 4 years. I was thinking of posting it on AO3 seeing as the first arc is 95% done and I'm interested in finishing this story.... But I'm also an expert at dropping fics whenever I lose inspiration... So should i really post it?

Anyway, enjoy and tell me what you think! (I might just post in on AO3 anyways ;))

Summary: Natsu learns just how rude a Violinist can get when you barge into her practice room. And after Lucy Heartfillia unintentionally transfers into his school, she learns that, much like an elephant, Natsu Dragneel never forgets. Because of him, they both are forced to spend the rest of their day in detention. Accompanied by a temperamental Erza and an innocent Gray. But when they stumble upon mysterious artifacts sought by a vengeful ghost, they're thrust into a supernatural battle that binds their fates together. TLDR; Lucy, Natsu, Gray, and Erza start a food fight, become ghost hunters, get thrown into detention, and discuss the complexities of Romeo and Juliet. I’ll let you decide what order it all happens in.  A Ghost Busters Au (of sorts)

Intro:

The sun was high in the sky, encouraging what seemed like every single individual in town to wander the warm streets of Magnolia. Children ran around the town square, most playing with the fountain conveniently placed in the middle of it while teens conversed with each other, seated on benches or in chairs right outside of the only decent ice cream place in town. Parents gloated to each other, barely keeping an eye on their dogs which yipped and hopped around loudly. Old folks sat on tables, some lightly conversing with their partners while others sat stiff, glaring at each other between an intense game of chess. Everyone seemed to be in high spirits, happy to be outside doing something that they enjoy.

And then there was Natsu.

The young 16 year old boy groaned loudly, attempting and failing at running away from a scarlet haired woman who had been carelessly dragging him around by his shirt collar for the last 5 minutes.

“Erza~” The boy whined, waving his arms around him in childish frustration. His sharp canine like teeth stood out as he refused to quiet down his disruptive cries. Erza let go of his collar, turning to face him with a glare that was sure to scare even Satan off of his throne down in hell. She raised a fist, bopping him on his head decorated with soft pink hair.

“Shut your whining!” She demanded but eventually softened her glare as he pouted, rubbing the now sore spot on his head. “I know this sort of thing isn’t something you’d usually enjoy…” She sighed, gazing up at the building in front of them.

It was huge, large enough to be considered a school but much too extravagant to be considered ‘public’. The first floor seemed to have replaced all of its walls with glass windows, each one providing the view of an expensive walkway littered with obviously rich students. The brick of the exterior had been displayed as a bland gray color in order to put more contrast on the ginormous pink sign stuck to the top of the building which read: “Love and Lucky performing arts studio”

The red-head looked away from the studio and gave Natsu another pitying look. “I just wanted someone to explore new horizons with. Please bear with me, just this once.” The boy gave a disinterested grunt knowing that if he said anything else, his throbbing head would be the last thing he had to worry about. Erza smiled, satisfied with his answer and dragged him through the automatic glass doors.

The interior wasn’t much different from the outside if your mind were as simple as Natsu's. The only two words that came to mind while looking around the building were ‘Snobby’ and ‘Rich.’ The pink haired man was quick to hate the place, having already dealt with his fair share of financially superior boys. Not to say that he hadn't made sure to give each kid more bruises to count then all of their money combined. 

Erza led them to an elevator after having a boring conversation with the desk lady about the beauty of art. From there they found their way to the second floor where the two were scheduled to watch the showing of Romeo and Juliet. 

Natsu already felt tears well up in his eyes as he read the start and finishing times on the play bill. His friend had already promised to treat him to a meal after the show was over if he behaved. But it seemed she had forgotten to specify exactly how long he would be waiting. The play would last almost a full 3 hours.

This was going to take forever.

Thinking that he might as well enjoy his freedom while it lasts, the boy gave Erza the good ol’ bathroom excuse and rushed out of the large stuffy auditorium before any more questions could be asked. He decided to wander around, peeking his head into rooms that he believed were empty and living up to the title of school prankster.

After putting water on everyone’s seats in a room called ‘Improv theater’ Nastu decided that it was probably time to head back. He had seen at least three students wander past the otherwise empty hallway and decided that he’d rather not take his chances at the school for snobby art kids.

He had only turned a corner before he heard it. The soft sound of music wafting past his ears like a haunting melody. And peeking his head into that room met him with a sight that he was sure would stay embedded into his mind for years.

A girl no younger than him stood on a platform with a violin cradled under her chin and snuggly in her arms. She expertly stroked each string up and down, tapping her feet to an even pace. Her beautiful blond hair had been put up into a neat ponytail, not one strand hung out of place. Her eyes were closed so she was completely unaware of the boy creeping further into the room, following the sound of her music in a daze. Neither was the boy himself apparently because as his limbs moved on their own, his eyes stayed fixed on her face, more specifically her eye where a small tear slipped past her eyelids and onto the floor. 

Before any more tears had the chance to fall, Natsu had oh so gracefully hit his leg against the arm of a chair, letting out a silent curse as it throbbed in pain. Great. Now he had two bruises to worry about. 

The violin stopped, and the girl opened her eyes, darting them around in a panic. They settled on his very stiff figure and he saw her relax slightly, setting the violin down on the chair beside her. Neither of them spoke for a tense few seconds, him silently studying her, and her searching for any source of recognition.

“Who the heck are you?” He blurted out, cursing himself for his lack of filter. It wasn’t often he’d think this but Natsu seriously wished he had taken his rivals advice more seriously. The dark brown pupils of her eyes narrowed as he coughed, awkwardly shuffling his feet from side to side.

“I could ask you the same thing.” She snapped back, throwing her hands on her hips and walking down the small set of stairs to the right of her. 

The boy narrowed his eyes, taking in the practiced movement of her walk. He had forgotten for a moment but this performing arts studio was full of snobby upper class kids. Why the hell would she be any different?

“I got lost.” He growled out meeting her glare with his own.

“Mind getting lost somewhere else?”

“Gladly.” He hissed, turning heel and marching towards the exit. He was almost out of the door before he stopped, angling his head to her slightly and muttering just loud enough for her to hear. “It’s too bad you’re a snob… ya didn't sound half bad.”

The blond blushed and stuttered out a small thanks as the strange pink haired boy finally left the auditorium. As Natsu begrudgingly walked back to the showing of Romeo and Juliet, and the girl packed up her violin and walked to the limousine waiting out front, a barely noticeable star twinkled up in the sky, hidden by the sun's bright inferno of glittering rays.

That night the star stayed lit, attracting the attention of curious onlookers. Some people stared long and hard, pointing up in the sky and dancing around with exclamations of how pretty it was while others only glanced at it, nodding their heads before continuing on with their night. But one man had neither reaction.

One man with burly gray hair and a fair share of wrinkles scattered around his face gawked at the star through binoculars. Sitting on top of the town's very own Kardia Cathedral, this man observed the star with nothing but shock mirrored in his expression. There was so much he wanted to say, so many thoughts running around his head, but only one had the pleasure of leaving his dry lips. 

“...Oh shit.”

_____________

Update post:

I’ve posted the story on ao3 and the first arc is already finished!

[tropes-and-tales-archives]

More Precious Than Rubies: Part 3a

This is an alternate timeline story that has a Rafael Barba track and a Sonny Carisi track. The two paths split off in part 3.

WC: 2662

TW: SVU-typical talk of rape and sexual assault cases.

AN: The prompt was "I saw you staring at each other, I just wasn’t sure if it was sexual tension or murderous rage."

When the jury read their verdict of “not guilty” on all counts, you breathed a sigh of relief and then tended to your client, who collapsed against you in broken sobs.  You got him collected, then you both went out and made a brief statement to the assembled press.  You shook Jeremy’s hand and wished him well, and then you stood a moment in the weak April sunlight.

You descended the steps of the courthouse slowly, one at a time, and thought about what you should do. 

It was late in the day – you could go back to your airless little utility closet of an office and wrap up you paperwork on the case.  Or you could start making your way towards home.  Most of the cops and ADAs went to celebrate or commiserate at Forlini’s, but two blocks up was a charming little Spanish wine bar that most tourists walked right past.  It was right near your subway stop – you could go finish your paperwork there.

You had been a good student in high school and undergraduate, and you’d been top of the class in law school.  The sole subject you struggled in had been math and calculus, so it was fortunate that law didn’t require much higher math beyond calculating what consecutive sentences would add up to.

If you had been good at higher math, you’d know what an inflection point was – a moment when a curve changes from being concave to convex, or vice versa.  Life was full of inflection points – when the path a person could take is changed or decided on.  Most times, the person in question had no idea how their little choices affected the larger arc of their life. 

Take the subway or walk.  Eat the street meat or the leftovers you packed from home.  Go to Fordham law or Columbia law.

Turn right, towards your office.  Or turn left towards home.

Today, you turned left.

********

Barba was livid.  The problem was, he didn’t know who to be madder at:  himself, or Liv, or the rest of the SVU squad. 

He should have known better.  He should have known.  How many times had SVU handed him flimsy cases with circumstantial evidence?  How many times had he sent them away, refusing to even consider a case until it was more solid?

Too many times, and yet here he was – dodging Jack McCoy, sneaking out of the office, creeping past Forlini’s without looking through the plate glass windows, ducking into a tiny wine bar.  Steadying his nerves with a glass of ruby-red Garnacha and just letting the alcohol inflame his temper even more.

Because he should have known better.

And once he worked through his uncharitable feelings about his detectives, he moved on to the irritating new public defender.  If he had been intrigued by you initially, it quickly wore off once he saw you shred his admittedly feeble case.  You caught the social media posts that NYPD didn’t, but that didn’t make you a brilliant lawyer – it just meant you were thorough.  And lucky.  The next time he faced off with you in court, he’d settle the score.  And he’d do it with the same, tiny, infuriating smile you had sported during closing arguments. 

He finished off his first glass of wine and then ordered another, along with a charcuterie tray for one, as if he didn’t already feel like a loser.  He sipped his wine slower and tried to enjoy the notes of plum and juniper.  After his last overdue annual physical (and his doctor clucking over his blood pressure), Barba had downloaded some meditation app that basically charged him $2.99 a month to tell him to close his eyes and take deep breaths.  While he waited for the world’s smallest, saddest charcuterie tray, he closed his eyes and did just that.

He could feel the tension loosen a little bit.  His pulse slowed.  He took another sip of wine and tried to savor it.  Everything would be fine.  He’d take his lumps from McCoy, then he’d march over to the 16th precinct and give Liv a stern speech about sloppy police work.  Then he’d do better, be more vigilant, work harder.

When he opened his eyes finally, his newfound serenity evaporated immediately.  Across the bar, settling into a stool and pulling a stack of papers out of a battered satchel, was the irritating new public defender.  He ducked down and watched you furtively.  You shed your grey jacket.  You ordered a glass of white wine but no food, and you bent over your papers.  Your face was drawn and serious, as if you hadn’t just scored an impressive victory against the district attorney’s office. 

The waiter bringing Barba’s food created a flurry of activity that drew your eye, and Barba saw you see him.  You nodded at him in greeting and gave him a smile, and he wasn’t sure if it was meant to be friendly or to gloat.  He embraced his foul mood as it returned and settled for the latter instead of the former.

He scowled back at you and pointedly ignored you to focus on his food, but not before he saw you carefully gather up your stuff and walk around the bar to join him.  He was unable to be explicitly rude and ignore you, so he sighed and turned to face you.

“You here to gloat?” he asked, and he watched your face turn from casually friendly to guarded.

“I’m not gloating,” you replied.  “I wanted to say it was a good case, and that you did your best.”

Barba scoffed and took a deep swig of wine, polishing it off in one gulp.  “Liar.  It was a weak case, and now you’re gloating.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and watched him as he ordered another glass of wine.  “I’d think that you’d be happy that you weren’t responsible for getting an innocent man locked up,” you said, and your voice was clipped and almost borderline angry. 

He swiveled in his seat so that he could face you directly.  You weren’t wrong, but Barba was still smarting from such a humiliating defeat – especially on a case he shouldn’t have even taken to trial.  He had no one to blame but himself, but the heady red wine was hitting him harder than his usual scotch did, so he snapped back at you.

“Enjoy your victory,” he said, and you narrowed your eyes further until they were mere slits in your face, glaring out at him.  “You won’t get another.”  And then he turned back in his seat to make sure you knew you were dismissed.

He’d feel bad about it in the morning.  You were just some green public defender, some bleeding heart, probably, and likely someone who just eked out a law degree and a license from passing the bar.  And you had kept an innocent man out of prison.  But law was a zero-sum game:  every case you won was a case he lost.

And more than anything else, Barba loved to win. 

-----

It was another month before Barba faced off against you again, and it ended in a draw – guilty on a lesser count, not guilty on the more serious charge.  You’d be able to make a plea for leniency during sentencing.  When court was dismissed, he turned to nod at you, but you deliberately tilted your head in that sometimes-cute, mostly-irritating way you had and ignored him.

The next match up was just two weeks later, and you lost it handily.  Guilty on all counts, and your client was a repeat rapist, but Barba begrudgingly admitted that you gave him a good defense.  The defendant would not be able to appeal based on incompetent counsel.  Again, you refused to look at Barba, but he couldn’t miss the tension that melted from your frame when your client was led out in cuffs.  He realized that you had to defend monsters, and he wondered if you just now realized it yourself.

He got to talk to you a little during those cases, when you both did the mandatory tap dance around possible plea deals.  Even if you were young, you were a fierce competitor, snapping back at his own witty one-liners with sarcastic rejoinders of your own.  Unlike the other lawyers he squared off with, though, you never made it personal.  You never snarked on his suits (like Calhoun), and you never called him a peacock (like Buchanan).  You just threw out obscure case law and legal precedents that he sometimes wasn’t aware of.

Meetings with you left him both invigorated and exhausted.  Like a sudden burst of adrenaline that, when it was spent, made him weary.

He conceded that you knew what you were doing.  You seemed to know the law inside and out, and you seemed to have a supernatural instinct for when SVU was floating a weak case.  Barba wondered what your relationship with Carisi had been like – maybe your ability to see through the squad’s posturing came from whatever had happened between you and the lanky detective. 

Barba asked Liv about it once.  Liv had just shrugged and said that you and Carisi had already been a couple when he came to Manhattan’s SVU, and then a few months later, Carisi had turned up to work with red eyes and rumpled clothes for a long stretch before pulling himself together.

“She was sweet,” Liv said.  “She used to bring in lunch and dinner when we were working overtime.  But she was still in school then, I think.  Fordham.”

Barba pictured you in college student garb, maybe a pair of faded jeans and a Fordham sweatshirt, your face sans makeup and your hair pulled into a sloppy ponytail.  He pictured you bringing in boxes of food for the squad, maybe sitting and chatting with them a bit while Carisi played footsie with you under the table.  He pictured the tall detective walking you out, kissing you and promising to see you at home soon. 

Barba felt a measure of melancholic jealousy for that imagined domestic scene.  He’d love to have a girlfriend who brought him food when he was working late.  More to the point, he’d love to have a reason to even go home instead of pulling late nights in his office.  His mind started to wander to an imagined scene where you brought him food in his office, where he kissed you and promised to see you at home….he shoved that daydream aside violently.  Not you.  Anyone but the irritating public defender who stung and maddened him like a deep papercut that kept breaking back open after he thought it had healed.

He wondered again idly what had broken the two of you up.  Likely being on opposite sides of the law, Barba figured.  Carisi, the cocker spaniel of special victims advocate, and you, an avenging angel of the poorest criminals Manhattan had to offer.

-----

SVU had a new case:  a sixteen year-old, Anthony Forni, was being tried as an adult for sexual assault of a neighbor in his apartment building.    

And a familiar face caught it for the defense.

Barba and Liv were in his office, chatting about the case when Carmen knocked on the door and announced you.  As per your usual routine, you nodded curtly at Liv before zeroing in on Barba like a heat-seeking missile.  You marched over to stand on the other side of his desk, and Barba knew by now not to bother with polite small talk about the weather.  He seemed to have lost that privilege when he rebuffed you all those months ago at the wine bar.

“Counselor,” he said in greeting, and his mentally girded himself for a fight.  Increasingly, your meetings with him were getting tenser.  It was his fault, probably, when he made it personal by calling you “girl wonder” sarcastically once, and you had glared at him so hard that he almost withered under the force of your stare.  Almost.

“The Forni case,” you replied.  “Let’s talk plea deal.”

He scoffed at this and saw Liv start to open her mouth to add her two cents, so he held a silencing hand out to her.  “I’ll take my chances at court.”

The corner of your mouth twitched as you fought a smile.  “You sure about that, Barba?”

“I’d consider rape in the second degree.  Five years, and he goes on the registry.”

“I’d consider forcible touching,” you retorted.  “Probation, mandatory therapy.”

Barba laughed outright.  “A misdemeanor?  Don’t waste my time.”

You held up your hand and ticked off your points.  “One, you can’t prove that my client even had sex with the victim…”

“The rape kit tested positive for lubricant,” Live cut in, and you just rolled her interruption into your list of points without even looking at her.

“Two, the victim is married and is rumored to have a piece on the side, so lubricant is a non-issue.”  You paused for a split second, waiting for another interruption.  Your eyes never left Barba’s; he wondered if you were this intense with other ADAs.  He couldn’t imagine you staring down Callier or O’Dwyer with such passion. 

“Three,” you continued, “Forni’s mother has been fighting with the victim over noise complaints for months.”

“Which gives me a motive for the defendant attacking her,” Barba cut in.

“Which gives me a motive for the victim lying,” you snapped.  “And four, I have reason to believe that my client is himself a victim of sexual abuse.  He needs therapy and support, not hard time with grown men.”

“How noble of you,” Barba murmured, and he saw you clench your jaw.  “But what about support for the victim?  Moreover, what about justice?”

“What’s just about sending an underaged kid to an adult prison?  That’s vengeance.”

Barba shrugged.  “That’s the law.”

“An eye for the eye makes the whole world blind,” you replied, and Barba laughed outright again.  He was thinking, more and more, that you were some sort of bleeding-heart do-gooder after all. 

“Embroider it on a pillow,” he snarked.  “Don’t use it for a basis of legal argument.”

“At least I keep it pithy,” you sassed back at him.  “Your closing arguments are so wordy and long-winded, you couldn’t embroider it on a blanket.”

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, and Barba refused to look away first.  Instead, he studied your face, smirking a bit at the way your nostrils flared almost imperceptibly as you raged quietly.  Finally, you blinked and stepped away from his desk.

“I’ll see you in court then,” you declared, and you flounced out without another word.  Barba could practically feel the energy in the room shift as you left, like you were a storm front passing by.

He leaned back in his chair and then glanced over at Liv.  He’d nearly forgotten that she was even there.  That was the problem with you:  in court and in these little encounters, the rest of the world seemed to fall away.  Liv, for her part, was giving him that infuriating soft smile she had when she felt like she had some new insight into Barba’s character or inner thoughts.

“What?” he barked, sounding meaner than he intended.

“What was that all about?” she asked.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Her smile widened.  “I saw you staring at each other.  I just wasn’t sure if it was sexual tension or murderous rage.”

“Neither,” he said.  “And stop smiling like that.  It’s just business.”

Liv held up her hands in mock surrender and stood up to leave too.  But the smile never left her face, and she even chuckled softly to herself as she made her way to the door.

“For my money, that looked a lot like sexual tension to me,” she said, and she ducked out of his office before he had a chance to come up with a snarky response.

[0verc00ked-simp]

So I just finished the third season for the first time last night (I know, I know, I have no excuse for holding off this long) and I have. Some thoughts. Spoilers, obviously.

First of all, it really wasn’t as bad as I was expecting from the way people talk about it, but I have my issues I wanna talk about.

Allison. They took all the parts of Victor I hated in season one and shoved them onto her in this season. Now don’t get me wrong, at first I was excited to see her get her much-deserved snap after all the trauma she’s endured but… They did it so wrong. I see no point mentioning the Luther scene as I’m sure we all share the same opinion on how that was a terrible mishandling of her but the thing that gets me is the fact that she made a deal with Reggie, and when that deal led to the death of Luther and Klaus, she still didn’t back out until she herself was injured. What??? Like, no, as soon as Luther died, that should have been the point that the Allison I know would have been like “ok, nvm, losing more people isn’t worth this”. But whatever,,,

Also, the romance with Luther and Sloane was so rushed and forced, Don’t get me wrong, I honestly thought they were cute together and Luther deserves to move on from the incest… even though this isn’t much better… but jesus. Also, did it have to be another alternate sibling of his? Really??? They couldn’t have given him a love interest that didn’t share a father with him? Its better than Allison who he literally grew up with and refers to as his sister, but this woman is also basically his sister. And they got married after like five-ish days of knowing each other, chill.

I haven’t decided how I feel about Lila and Diego’s kid yet. I don’t like pregnancy arcs but I wouldn’t mind seeing those two happy and settled for once in their damn lives. I dunno. I am neutral so far.

Five was deffo chiller in this season, people are right about that one. He had his moments of course, but I was sort of surprised by how much of a back burner they put him on this season. He’s typically they’re main blorbo. I didn’t really have any issues with him or anything, just wished he had more to do.

Well…

There is one issue.

The last episode ended with them all losing their powers, which included Luther no longer being part ape. This is fine and I think it will lead to some interesting plot next season, but why is Five still a child? I think they could justify it in some senses, but if you ask me, he should have either reverted back to being in his fifties, or he should have finally been in his thirties with the rest of his siblings. I’m sure they just didn’t want anyone but Aidan to play him (rightfully so) but Aidan is 20 now, they could have pulled something off. It’s not like they’re trying to make an actual 13 year old appear to be in his 30 or something.

If they’re keeping him as a kid, though, I want to see that have an effect. I want to see him regress and slowly start becoming more and more of an actual teenager. (In all honesty, could just be me, but it kinda feels like that’s been happening a little bit anyhow.) Also I saw another post talking about him being in school dealing with people who are actually teenagers and I really think that would be so funny, please make the state force him to attend public high school.

This has been my random thoughts after finishing the season, if you disagree with me, that’s totally fine, they’re more just the thoughts I had late at night after being sick kept me up. Looking forward to the new season. It got confirmed to come out next year, although we still have no idea when.

Hang in there people, it will be here soon.

[notmaplemable]

I’d love to hear about your fics and your process as a writer.

How long have you been writing, did you do any fics before RWBY, and do you feel like your writing has evolved over time?

Well, I first started doing creative writing outside of English assignments during my Junior year of HS (11th grade), which would have been 2017/18. But I didn't start with fan fiction. I've written a full 92kish fantasy novel.

Which I wrote on and off from 2017 to very early 2020. And it's terrible. Which, it was my first attempt at long form writing, so it was going to be terrible no matter what. But it was the best I could do at the time and I certainly wouldn't be as skilled as I am now, which still isn't very skilled, if I didn't write it. So you gotta take the good with the bad.

And no, I will never ever ever ever release that document to the public. You people deserve better than that.

Then I didn't really write anything at all from March of 2020 to around this time last year. Why? To make a long story short, medical problems. I had to be rushed to the ER in March of that year, I've spend several days in the hospital since then, I almost had to drop out of college at one point, and I had my last surgery towards the end of August last year.

I actually wrote my first post here, It Worked For Mom, while I was recovering from surgery. So there's a bit of a fun fact for this blog.

I started maybe 5 or 6 Fallout and Dragonball fics while I was in HS that never made it past the first chapter. That I also never published.

I wrote my first RWBY fic around the end of May last year. Rosa Aurum which means Rose Gold in Latin, and yes it was Lancaster. I've been on that train since day 1. Which was sort of my spiritual successor to Beacon Beckons if you've ever read that fic.

I didn't even finish the first chapter for that one.

My second attempt at a fic was actually Lancatster (Jaune x Ruby x Blake) but I can't find the file anymore. And I don't remember the name, but I do remember making it to chapter 2 with the one. So, progress.

------

Now, with everything I wrote from High School to the fic before Ghosts of Summer I had a pretty thorough outline. I fact, it'd say the I probably over planned. The outline document for my novel is about 37k words itself. Which considering the finished novel is a little over 90k, having your outline be 1/3 the size of the finished project is just absurd.

And I tried to use that same method for those first 2 fics that never went anywhere. Safe to say, didn't really work out.

With Ghosts of Summer, which is the first fic I've published and the first that's really made it very far, I've kind of just used the Tumblr version as a rough outline. Which is also what I've done with Ginger Whisper and Arc-Noire and will do with my other series most likely.

So, I've gone from a hardcore planner to a kind of a middle ground between planning and pantsing.

So I guess you can say my planning method now is to throw ideas at you people, see the reaction and if there's any feedback, and see if I like the idea in practice as much as I like it in theory. Which helps me decide if I want to pursue that idea in the novelization or not.

I've recently started giving myself a minimum amount of words to write in a day. 1k words a day. So, actively tracking the amount I write a day has helped me quite a bit in writing consistently. Instead of kind of just waiting for inspiration and hoping that carries me along.

Which is how I've managed to write four 5k+ chapters of three different fics over the past month and change. And I do plan on being much more consistent on the front in the future.

------

As for how my writing has evolved over time. Well, I think my dialogue has gotten a lot better. As well as my prose and writing in general has gotten a lot easier over time.

I'm still terrible with plots. And I'm absolutely terrible with writing body language. So, I think I tend to rely a little bit too much on showing over telling on that front.

I do think I've gotten better overall in the last few months. I think most of that just comes from consistently writing and practice does make perfect. And the fact that I've had the opportunity to work with other wonderful writers on here really had helped too.

But, there's still a lot for me to improve on and I'm going to work hard to continue improving my writing. I do eventually want to be published, so I have a long way to go.

One interesting thing though is that I don't really have any more anxiety when it comes to writing or posting my writing. Not really sure why though.

------

I'm happy to answer any more questions you might have.

[underscore-jude]

I loved what you said about kourtney and how you’ll change her plot in s3! do you know what you would like to see for her in s4 + her relationship with jet?

sure, but only if you guys start telling T*m he needs to hire me or that he owes me royalties! I mean, I’ve been saying as much for *quite* some time now. Note those timestamps there 🥰

I fully endorse the harrassment of T*m Federle for whatever reason. Until he can come forward and address and disprove the allegations that have been sitting against him since 2020 (!!!!), I have no problem sending my tiny ass legion of tumblr followers against him. Now, on with the show.

So I'd like to preface this by saying that I do enjoy Kowie. Like, so much that sometime last year I earned myself a special "CEO of Kowie" role in the Wildcats discord. but i think with how much i also love jetney it's just that i love Kourtney Greene and i love when people give her love.

I think a lot of people don't like Roman for whatever reason, I didn't have twitter until far after s2 had finished airing so if there was drama I wasn't present for it. But his IICLH is magical and I do think that Howie genuinely wanted to be with Kourtney- he made mistakes, as a sixteen-year-old boy is wont to do, and he was caught up in the fiery hell of Zacky Roy and Lily Whatsername's Brigade of Evil, and his shadiness in the s2 finale could lend itself to some suspicion on his part.

However, I also really enjoy Jetney. The thing is I also enjoy Jetwen. There is room for all of these things in my perfect HSMTMTS. I just think that brooding, emo Jet is so full of love that he has not let himself share for so long, that when he finally opens up to himself he realizes oopsie, he kinda likes both Ricky and Kourtney! even better, it's right around the time when Ricky and Kourtney have reconciled and become besties again! that's a whole thing with jet. but it bleeds into kourtney's s4 arc, so i thought i'd mention it.

So when we left Kourtney at the end of MY s3, she was full of confusion upon seeing Howie for the first time since she left for camp. I haven't decided yet whether or not the documentary would've been released to the general public yet, but the trailer certainly had, so no matter what she knows that Howie has watched another man profess their love for his girlfriend on national television.

And Howie is... weirdly not bothered by it. He says it scared him a little at first, but he trusts her- and reality TV is all too keen to force things and feed actors lines, so he's not really worried. Kourtney, however, is, because as much as she'd like to agree that it was all for the cameras, there's a very real part of her that does like Jet, and as much as she wants to get rid of it she can't.

So another thing- Nini doesn't move to California. I know this was done in the show because Olivia's schedule didn't work for her to keep being main cast, but this is my perfect fantasy world and I get to keep my ninikins, okay? She left camp early due to her growing lesbianism to record some demos with Jamie in LA, and as s4 starts she's back in Salt Lake waiting for something to come of them.

Sometime in the first episode, Nini and Kourtney are hanging out and Nini reveals that she's written a song inspired by the whole documentary situation, mainly about how she knows her friends hearts despite the editing making them look like entirely different people. They sing it as a duet. Kourtney talks about her Boy ProblemsTM. There's a funny comment about how this time last year the roles were completely reversed. Nini insists that there's lots of other things to worry about and at least Howie is at North and Jet is all the way in Texas, so she won't have to worry about them during their Best Senior Year Ever.

Cut to the first day of school, and Kourtney, Nini, Ricky, and Big Red are all united as a front, and guess who's sitting in Miss Jenn's sixth period Drama II class? Our good buddy, Jet Lastname (i gave them the last name Grey). Kourtney and Ricky are both red in the face all throughout class. Nini and Big Red find this hilarious.

So in my world, HSMTMTS lasts five seasons, ending with the older four graduating. And with that, I want to save HSM3 for the last season. So, s4 will be The Little Mermaid! I really wanted them to be building up to Kourtney and Carlos as Ariel and Eric with Kourtney having her TLM playbill and Carlos wanting to play a human character and if this is my hsmtmts, that means i get what i want, and what i want is Carlos and Kourtney front and center like they deserve. i also want to include songs that didn’t get used from the other shows they’ve done. I feel like I deserve that.

I think that Jet would meet Howie randomly when he and Maddox go to Slices or something, and eventually realizes that he's Kourtney's boyfriend and has a moment.

the Kowie breakup would hurt me unless it was completely amicable. a few episodes into the season, they realize that they're just not working as a romantic couple and would prefer to just be friends. I can't handle a angsty kowie breakup that would devastate Kourtney or destroy Howie's character, I'm sorry. Maybe Howie can get with Big Red idk if i want to keep redlyn or go with madlyn or not!!!

So there's not really a Jet-Kourtney-Ricky love triangle because there's not anger or people being really aware of it- in fact, Jet's a little bit clueless, but Ricky and Kourtney both think that the other likes Jet so they're like "ok i'll keep quiet cause I don't want to make the other person angry" and then eventually they're acting so weird around each other that the four seniors are all in big red's basement late at night and they're super high loopy from lack of sleep and they admit to each other what they've been doing and they all laugh about it and Nini and Big Red are like "wow you guys are not very smart".

The east high friend group is very fruity

But over the course of the season I think Ricky would get over Jet or decide to be single for a considerable amount of time or whatever and actively encourage Kourtney to go after Jet as a contrast to like. Pained helping others to ignore his own problems like he's done before, y'know? Carlos is like "ricky is this another in a heartbeat" but it's not, it's genuine growth and finding happiness in himself before trying to get it from a partner. Ricky and Kourtney also become therapy buddies btw

And if Jetney gets together in s4 it would be closer to the end. I envision Gina (who is Sebastian) leading the kids in a dream sequence-esque performance of "Kiss the Girl" and everyone is like, goading them together, but they decide to take things on their own terms without any meddling from their friends.

So beyond the Jetney of it all, Kourtney tells her mom that she wants a proper therapist and we see her actually getting that in s4, talking about her anxieties and why she always situates herself behind her friends rather than letting herself come into her own. Someone asks her if she's seen all of the support she's been getting online since the doc came out, and she hasn't because she's forced herself to not go on Twitter. Her Youtube channel has blown up and people are wanting to see more and more stuff, but she's too afraid of hate that she doesn't want to risk it at all. She eventually starts uploading more casual makeup videos, and building more confidence in herself.

Eventually, Nini asks if Kourtney wants to do a duet with her on her EP, and Kourtney nearly dies. On one hand, yes she does, but it's after the initial viral boom of the doc has worn off and things are returning more to normal and she doesn't know if she wants to be quite as nerve-wracked as she was before. I think later, sometime in s5, Nini makes a second record and Kourtney happily agrees to do a song with her.

Nini, Big Red, and Ricky are super supportive, and she also allows herself to get closer to Carlos, Gina, Seb, and Ashlyn, and eventually the drama club is on it's way to being a big loving support system.

Plus, not to mention, I cast Kourtney as Ariel in the musical. I wonder if there's a version of If Only that's just an Ariel and Eric duet, cause that would fit Carlos and Kourtney much better than the quartet. Looking dramatically offstage at Seb and Jet during rehearsal and whatnot. She'd be nervous about playing Ariel, sure, but it's about more than that. There's something more innocent, with more ingenuity about Ariel than there is about Elsa, and that's what scares her the most. Performance-wise, she definitely does Beyond My Wildest Dreams as part of the performance and impresses the hell out of everyone. If Only, like I said, would be in rehearsal, and I think Part of Your World too, I think it could parallel the Monster scene I envisioned for s3, where it shows that she's having issues cause the performance is just Too Real, so her friends support her after the fact, just that this time Big Red and Nini are there as well as Ricky and all of the other kids are making it very clear that they're there to support her through it all.

As for her college-related anxieties, well... i suppose i'll just have to write up my ideal season 5 :shrug:

[ultraericthered]

Anime Update V3 20

From Me To You - Watched the three episodes that wrapped up the Kurumi arc. To this day I wonder what exactly it was about Kurumi that made her the series' most hated character beyond the dumb Die For Our Ship stuff - yes, she started those rumors that gave Sawako, Ayane and Chizu such a hard time several episodes ago, but not only did nothing she did or said to Sawako directly manage to stack up in hurtfulness, but even that rumor scheme got all the holes in it pointed out here, with Ayane and Chizu rightly skewering Kurumi's competence at thinking these things through and pulling them off. Aside from that, her backstory gives her adequate reason for why she'd be so clingy about her love for Kazehaya but not bold enough to take initative and open up to him about her feelings for him, and her and Sawako have the most blatantly foe-to-friend romantic-coded "rival" relationship where they both care about each other despite knowing it's probably a risk to themselves and their romantic pursuits to do so and have some of the cutest, funniest, and heartfelt interactions, how can you not find it precious? You shouldn't even need to wait for the manga to catch Kurumi up with her character growth, this section of the story gives you plenty of reasons to love her already! I like the resolve Kurumi came to here. Good for her.

Hunter x Hunter - At long, long, long, long last, I've finished the Chimera Ants arc. All surviving Ants are moving on with their lives, including Welfin joining Hina, Bizeff, and the others to search for the never-to-be-found Gyro. Bloster, meanwhile, delivers that unnamed servant Ant to a familiar village and it turns out that all along, this Ant was not only not really mute, she's Kurt's little sister Reina who rettained her human memories, and oh God did I get choked up watching her and her mother having their big tearful reunion and seeing her bring Bloster back with her to live in that village too.: it was beautiful. And then Colt calls up Morel to reveal the startling realization that the Queen's last child that he's been taking care of is in fact the reincarnated Kite, compounding the tragedy of Gon's story since he's at death's door and hospitalized, all for pretty much nothing. Killua seeks a way to ensure the surgery goes succesfully and Gon's life can be saved, while elsewhere, just as in real life, an election season is in order, as Netero's final message to the Hunters Association beckons they select his successor the democratic way!

SHUFFLE! - Ended the series with the last two episodes. Asa's mom being a demon, making Asa a human-demon hybrid whose blood allows her to access magic powers, was absolutely not a turn I'd seen coming, but in hindsight it makes sense. Not sure how I felt about the climax of the whole thing revolving around Rin threatening suicide in order to force Asa to use her magic to save both of their lives, but the result of it was effective and ensured everything got wrapped up in a satisfying way. An alright end to an alright show.

KonoSuba - The second OVA, in which Kazuma leads his party on different high risk quests all so he can have new stories to tell to a random fangirl who keeps meeting with him at the pub, to the point where they have to fight another giant robot created by the same crazy asshole who was behind the events of the first season's finale, all just for Kazuma to learn that his fangirl could barely stomach him the whole time and was just getting paid to motivate him in quests!

K-On! - The second year of school has begun and the Light Music Club is out to get some new membership by any means necessary. And I mean any means, as they even do a publicity stunt in stupid plush animal costumes in hopes of it grabbing attention. After another successful on-stage performance, a girl named Azusa comes to their clubroom asking if she can join. You're going to end up making Season 2 all about you, aren't you? Well, at least Yui's happy!

Eureka Seven - Pulled a "Sozin's Comet" with all four final episodes of the show, which provided so many revelations, exhilerating action, powerful crescendos to all the character arcs and relationships (I'm never emotionally prepared for Dominic and Anemone in Episode 48, it is so epic and gets me every time!), and an ending that...honestly didn't make a whole lot of sense. I mean, I got the basic idea of it: the Scub Coral keep their ties to the Earth, but all of the Coralians and the new central cluster leave for the parallel universe where they'll wait until when both worlds are ready to co-exist. But the way it got executed was pretty confusing, especially since Eureka and the now Corallian Renton choose to stay on their planet, yet can't really live on the planet like people anymore, leaving everyone who knew them wondering if they'll ever see them again? The only other nitpick is what directly preceded that, where even before the existence of the putrid Astral Ocean series, the entire "humanity and Scub Coral can co-exist and help each other grow" theme is a bit undercut by Renton fucking slaughtering his way through several Coralians in order to reach Eureka. But those problematic areas were far outshone by how beautifully this whole thing came together here. Much like Nadja of Tomorrow, this is a show where the long game was well played and well worth it, and even with all the later sequels, spinoffs and imitators, it's one of a kind. Dai Sato, you will always be famous.

Air - Two episodes that set us back 1000 years prior to the story we've been watching and unveils the origin of the fabled winged girl in the sky, shown here to be named Kanna. We see her and her two companions Lady Uraha and Sir Ryūya set out on a journey to find Kanna's missing mother and avoid forces from their palace who are conspiring to lock her away in another temple. Tragically, they find her only to lose her, as she passes her ancient prayer on to Kanna before dying. When Kanna takes flight, she's caught by a curse that strikes her down, leading to her having to experience death over and over again while her mind is trapped in an endless, lonely dream. Ryūya and Uraha learn about the curse and vow to end it by having a child who will break the curse, with them implied to be Yukito's ancestors. But now that Yukito is out of the picture and Misuzu, the current incarnation of Kanna, is all alone, how will it ever work out?

AND

Sailor Moon Crystal/Infinity/Eternal/Cosmos - Yes, I watched all of this over the latter half of Summer in anticipation for when Cosmos dropped on Netflix. And I saw a subpar adaptation of a classic Shoujo action/romance manga turn into a dramatic time travel epic with far more competent adaptational choices, which then became a science ficiton/gothic horror work with more powerful storytelling and character depth and even some darker moral gray areas, and that gave way to a twisted fairy tale adventure that championed the power of love, friendship, and dreams...and then what I ended on was a straight up mythic tale with deeply personal stakes and some heavy spiritual themes! That last one is especially not what many would think of when thinking "Sailor Moon", but that's seriously where Naoko Takeuchi led her original story to! And I have mad respect for that and enjoyed the overall ride through a true Japanese legend!

Huh? Wha...what's that? Who's there? Is that..... Dewey Novak???

"August 6. That date marked officially five years that you've been putting out these Anime Update posts. And you let it slip you by. Terrible mistake, my friend! I've connected my very essence to the data collective of all of these posts! If I go, so does this post series, cut down only 20 entries into the V3 version! My life shall be the foundation upon which Anime Update ends its five year run!"

"So cry! All you like! This is the beginning of a brand new era!"

DEWEY, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-----

Oh dear. What's to become of Anime Update now? Stay tuned!

[nanowrimo]

Internal Conflict: Connecting With Your Characters

Every book has a character or two, but how much do they matter to your story? NaNo guest Avery Nicole explains that characters who have inner conflict make the story memorable.

What makes a book addictive? What makes it so hard to put down?

The answer is the characters.

You may be thinking, no, it’s the plot. The exciting, adventure-packed stories are the best... But what would the plot be without your characters? They are the ones driving your story, the ones pushing against the plot and making the story stretch to its end.

There are always characters. There isn’t just a plot, it isn’t just a documentation of what happened, it's a story of whom it happened to.

Why is it that in some stories, we find ourselves connecting with the characters, but in others, we are unable to relate? Maybe because so many books do not contain the secret ingredient: internal conflict. Your character’s lie-driven motive pushes against the reality of the situation.

Let me explain.

People are broken and imperfect. We all believe lies about the world, and every day these false beliefs control our actions and words. Someday, though, we might come to the conclusion that what we always believed was false. This is what makes a good story because any person on the face of this planet can relate to it. We all get things wrong, we all have false beliefs that someday we might come to the other side of.

A story isn’t simply a plot, but a character arc, a revelation. A journey from Point A (the lie) to Point B (the truth). Examples of lies? I have to be famous and popular. I have to be perfect. I have to prove myself. By the end of the story, the character has come to see the opposite of this. I don’t need money or fame, I need to love and be loved. I don’t need to be perfect, everyone is flawed and that’s okay. I don’t need to prove myself, I need to be myself.

The opposite of this lie is your story’s truth. Your story’s theme. It’s that motivational quote or idea that you want to tell the world, it’s why the story matters so much to you. It’s what will bring you to 50,000 words in thirty days.

See, this is where so many authors have gotten confused. So many writers don’t connect with their characters. 

You could walk away from this blog post shaking your head, and that’s okay. This isn’t the only way to write, it’s just my advice. But you could also walk away from this blog post smiling, finally realizing what your story might have been missing all along.

Violence and plot and war and grief aren’t what captivate readers. It’s why that violence and plot and war and grief matter specifically to your character.

So it isn’t the plot. It’s the characters. Their lies, their truths, their internal conflict. The characters are what make you want to read past your bedtime. They are what make the book so meaningful. They are what will bring you to your goal of finishing your novel.

Avery Nicole is currently a sophomore in high school, on the road to college. When she was seven she wrote her first short story and writing has rarely left her mind since. In her free time, she enjoys writing contemporary novels and poetry. She continuously works to achieve her goal and dream of publication.

Top Photo by MI PHAM on Unsplash  

[bearpillowmonster]

So...Max...Goofy's son.

His arc is pretty brilliant when you break it down because we have this tv show, right? It's called Goof Troop where it builds up Max and his dad just being goofy together and Goofy trying to be a good parent, while Max is just vibing.

Goofy Movie comes out and oh boy! Our boy is a little older, a teenager and he's growing up. This is so far, one of the only main Disney characters that we actually get to see grow up, that's his gimmick. He's suddenly mega embarrassed of his dad and wants to be cool but doesn't want to be a goof. The movie is about finding the balance between doing what you want to do while also making room for others, in this case, your family. Not just a lesson for Max, but for Goofy as well. This is portrayed through Roxanne, who many people already know he has a crush on. She is basically like what all kids had a crush on at that age and Max acts the part. He's awkward around her but he's inexperienced, she is the perfect first girlfriend for him and that's why I don't ship them, she was developmental for him.

Extreme comes around and ok, it's a movie to try and find Goofy a love interest but it manages to do so much more. Some people may be quick to say "Hey, he learned from the first film, why is he embarrassed now?" because Goofy is coming into his realm. He's going to the same college and doing what Max should potentially be doing, it's weird and it's public enough to reflect on Max, now everybody knows who he is. So Max tries to overwrite that by doing something big and grand so that people will talk about that over his own father. TO STAND OUT!

Roxanne is no longer in this movie, partially because Goofy's love life is the main focus here, he's not out here trying to do a double date with his son. But also because Max went through drifting apart from his high school friends (except PJ and Bobby of course) we just don't see that much of it. Roxanne lives away so he only sees her every so often, they still try to make it work. So now Max is exploring different options, we see him gawking at other women throughout, he isn't sure yet what he wants.

Next is House of Mouse, where Max is a valet/waiter. This is his part-time job while he's going to college but how did he get it? His dad knows the owner, Mickey Mouse. There's an episode where he brings Roxanne of all people to the House and he's scared Goofy will try and do something but it's actually NOT Goofy, it's everybody else, it's Goofy who comes in and saves the day. But that's beside the point, that's just to say he's still dating her at this point. He learns how to drive by being the valet and wants his dad to get him his own car, no more driving dad's jalopy! This is the next part of his life after all.

Skip forward to Mickey's Twice Upon A Christmas, we see Max coming home for Christmas. Judging from the previous films, his life seemed to step in line with real time so Goofy Movie came out in 95 and Extreme was 2000, technically giving him 5 years to finish high school and get into college. Twice Upon came out in 2004, giving him another 4 years to graduate college so he's probably living on his own at this point. But he's bringing a girl home, Roxanne and him are done, this time he brings Mona. He doesn't know how Goofy will act but begs him not to embarrass him or himself but Mona sees it and she's fine with it, this allows Max to embrace it and be goofy as well. A nice turn around. But I feel Mona is a bit too mature for him, I doubt he ended up with her.

And we haven't seen him properly since. My guess is a few things, they don't want to outplay their hand with him. They don't want to overage him especially when they have characters like Huey Dewey and Louie who don't age nearly as fast but are from the same era. And they were willing to take those risks back then, now it's just whatever. Actually the last recorded reference just had to do with Goof Troop in Chip N Dale but before that was in Ducktales-

We obviously see up to Prom, where he takes Roxanne. I think Disney is fine with referencing everything up to a Goofy Movie but past that is going to be slim. I kind of just want to see him whether it continues his storyline or not but I also know that I don't want another Goof Troop or really much of any of the Disney Afternoon squad because while I like Ducktales, the most recent one is very modernized, I see the 90s as more of a style now than modern. Each part of his arc reflected the last while also progressing the one major theme which was his dad.

He learned to accept Goofy's World.

He learned to let Goofy into his world.

He learned to let other people into Goofy's world AND to embrace it.

[snafu-maniac1]

Zuko deserved better

So I rewatched Avatar the Last Airbender recently and let me tell you......

I wanna murder several people.

Looking back on this entire series I’ve come to notice something. I watched the show just like any other audience member and only saw the good and the bad characters. One of these prime examples is Zuko. Zuko’s redemption arc has been praised as one of the greatest in history, succeeding where others have failed. But watching it all again......it wasn’t redemption. Not to me personally.

Before everyone gets angry and defensive at me, please finish reading my post and hear what I have to say. I do not wish to start any fandom wars or discredit or disrespect anyone’s opinion, this is just my personal psychological analysis of Zuko’s character....Sigh and let me give you a warning.

It’s gonna be LONG. 

So if you’re not interested or don’t want to hear it or don’t feel like reading something this long that’s fine, you can go ahead and just click away and ignore this post.

Starting from book 2. 

Now you may be wondering why I’m starting here and not from the start of Zuko’s childhood but I first want to address the one question everyone had been wondering since the series 2 finale. What would have happened if Zuko hadn’t sided with Azula?

My answer is.....that wouldn’t have happened.

Everyone’s been focusing on the entire arc where Zuko was struggling to accept that the war was wrong and how Iroh was trying to get through to him when he tried to capture Appa and afterwards, but here’s something everyone tends to ignore.

Why didn’t Iroh try sooner?

Why didn’t he try to stop Zuko before Aang came, before he’d gotten so deep and desperate to the point that he continuously committed heinous acts to capture the Avatar? People would justify it by saying Iroh wanted Zuko to realize the wrongs of his father and Nation by himself to shape him into his own person. But that is in no way the appropriate way to approach a physically, psychologically and mentally unstable and abused child. Zuko was a thirteen year old boy when he was burned and banished. This is where we go into his childhood. Zuko was raised like any other Fire Nation citizen. As we’ve seen in book 3 and in the Pirate comic book, The Fire Nation citizens were led to believe that the other Nations were ‘savages’ and ‘barbarians’. It villainizes the Fire Nation even more. The very fact that they would spread heinous lies against other people when they themselves were responsible for the war that ruined so many lives. But when you realize, what Sozin and the other Fire Lords did was a solid battle tactic. Making the opposing side out to be these horrendous monsters. Making lies or accentuating every one of their worst traits to dehumanize their enemies so that the people would not have any qualms about fighting them. All of the Fire Nation schools were taught these lies. And Zuko was no exception.

Zuko was a member of the Royal family. And from what was shown in the Avatar series, the Royal family was isolated from the rest of Fire Nation society. Zuko had no way of knowing what the other Nations were really like, no way of knowing the truth about the war and no one had bothered to explain it to him. The one person that could have, did NOT. And yet people had expected him to just automatically know that he was being lied to and that his people were the villains. Zuko’s only social exposure was with Fire Lord Azulon, Fire Lord Ozai, Dragon Of The West General and Crown Prince Iroh, his cousin Prince Lu Ten, his mother Princess Ursa and his younger sister Princess Azula and her friends Mai and Ty Lee. All of whom believed in the Fire Nation propaganda and all of whom had no problem in participating in the war and making jokes about burning Ba Sing Se to the ground. Zuko was under scrutiny and aggression from Ozai. Ozai was Zuko’s ‘handler’, his ‘groomer’. He groomed Zuko into a certain type of submissive and obedient behavior. Zuko was not allowed to show any type of emotion otherwise he would suffer severe repercussions. Ozai and Azula taunted Zuko for having a sense of compassion and with how he was ostracized in a war loving family, he began to believe his behavior and way of thinking was unusual. It was like Azula said to Mai, “Your mother had certain expectations of you and when you strayed from them you were shot down.” In Zuko’s case, the expectations he strayed from resulted in severe punishment. Ozai was willing to permanently disfigure and traumatize Zuko when he was a thirteen year old boy. It’s not unusual to think that his punishments towards Zuko would sometimes very likely be physical and many people even write alternate universes of the Avatar series where Ozai was even more abusive than he already was. He was a manipulative man who brainwashed his daughter into being his perfect, obedient little slave and manipulated his son into questioning his own sense of reality. He would tell him that Azula was born lucky and he was lucky to be born, cementing Azula’s view of herself of receiving everything she wanted and turning her personality toxic while he made Zuko feel inferior and faulty. If there was something wrong with him, his father would tell him and he needed to fix it. But he never could. He strayed towards his mother, who like Iroh, abandoned Azula because of Ozai’s manipulation and did nothing to help her like they ‘helped’ Zuko.

When Zuko was thirteen he wanted to ‘prove’ himself to his father by attending one of his war meetings. Zuko very likely only wished to do what his father wanted because by then, Iroh had abandoned him when he left after the Siege of Ba Sing Se, his mother disappeared and his grandfather and cousin were both dead. The only ones he had left of his family were his father and sister who both abused him and he only wished for their approval and their affection. Humans need mutual affection. Children who do not receive affection from their parents, tend to not take that type of neglect well. Because people need affection to properly function. Our parents love us from when we are young and that emotional connection is something very important to every human being’s mental state. However, Zuko’s only source of affection, his mother, was taken away from him. Azula herself, had no source of affection. Not from her mother, who thought she was demented from her father’s brainwashing, nor from her brother who feared her, nor from her father who used her as a tool. Returning to the day of the Agni Kai, Zuko wished to be of use to his father, he craved his affection because that is what the abuser does. They make you believe they are the only ones who can validate you and if you do not abide by their rules or follow their orders then you mean nothing. Zuko for the most part from what I could see in the flashback, held his promise and did not speak. But when he refused to back down when his people were in danger, Ozai was not pleased. This is because he is an abuser. He is Zuko’s ‘handler’ and when someone who is abusing another person witnesses this type of behavior, they have a feeling of loss of control. They desire control, they crave it, over the abusee especially. So when Zuko showed empathy towards the Fire Nation citizens and did not do as Ozai wished, he decided to ‘rectify’ that. In the most BRUTAL way possible. An Agni Kai. A public spectacle where he would establish dominance over his son, over his pawn and he would make a show of it. He would show everyone that HE was the one in control and NO ONE could defy him. When Zuko refused to fight Ozai, because of his love for his father, Ozai only saw that as a weakness. Ozai is a psychotic man. The fact that he did not have any problem in burning his son so cruelly shows that he does not have any sense of morals. Going back to Zuko, a thirteen year old child at the time, he had just been punished for disobedience, for straying from his father’s expectations, in the worst way possible.

Zuko did what many people would say is the right thing to do. He tried to defend his people from a cruel man intent on sending them to their deaths. But in doing so, he had defied his father and was punished for it. He was punished....for trying to HELP people. His life was essentially DESTROYED and he was thrown out of his home...for trying to help people. For showing empathy towards others. He was punished in the worst way possible for defying his father. His entire perception of right and wrong was thrown out of balance. He was taught that the war was right and that the Fire Lord, his father, was all knowing. And his mother tried to teach him kindness and her lessons of kindness got him punished. The amount of physical and mental damage he had sustained from such a punishment would in some cases be irreversible. Iroh was right there with Zuko and he did nothing. I CAN understand why he did not step in during the Agni Kai. He had been gone from the Fire Nation, his brother had taken the throne and he could have very well himself been punished severely for intervening. However, why did he allow Zuko to continue to believe he was the one at fault? Everyone of us has seen Zhao, has seen the way he treated Zuko during his banishment. Zuko very likely spent those entire two years before Aang’s arrival, being subjected to that type of behavior from everyone around him. All of them blamed him, all of them very likely said that he’d deserved what had happened to him. No one was on his side. He ended up turning aggressive and cruel towards others, because that was the way his father behaved and it was his empathy towards others that got him punished in the first place. He said in The Storm ‘the safety of the crew doesn’t matter’, just like the general that called the 41st division ‘fresh meat’. It was easier for Zuko to lash out at others and be aggressive than to let them see his vulnerabilities and hurt him for them again. It was the same with Song and her mother. Ozai tried to force him to be cruel, he tried to groom him the same way he did Azula. They dehumanized the other Nations and Zuko behaved the exact same way he was expected to. ‘Their compassion would cost them’. It was exactly the way his father wanted him to be. It was what Iroh did not wish for him, and yet despite claiming he thought of Zuko as a son, he did not in any way try to convince Zuko to give up his quest during the two years he had been searching for something that at the time was believed did not exist. The only instance we were shown of Iroh saying anything against his search, and even that is a stretch, was in the Western Air Temple episode where Zuko has a flashback of Iroh telling him that ‘destiny was a funny thing’ when Zuko said it was his destiny to capture the Avatar. Iroh had time to run the White Lotus, an antiwar organization for two YEARS maybe even longer and he did not think of taking two MINUTES to talk to Zuko, to ease him into realizing the wrongs of the war. Okay, yes he could have passed it off as character growth. But how do you expect a person, surrounded by people telling him he was at fault, he had no choice, either obey or never come back, to realize something like that? How do you expect an abuse victim to accept help all by themselves when their abuser forces them to depend on them? Did Iroh take him to some Earth Kingdom villages to see that they aren’t the vicious savages the Fire Nation portrays them to be? Did he take Zuko to the Southern Water Tribe to see the damage done to them at the hands of his own country? No. Instead he acted like an oblivious old man who had no interest other than Pai Sho and speaking proverbs that Zuko could not hope to understand.

Two years Zuko spent looking and looking and he turned desperate to the point that he was willing to do anything to go home. And then The Avatar finally returned. And then the people that Zuko was raised to perceive as brutal savages continued to stand in his way. And did Iroh intervene? No. He still did nothing. He allowed Zuko to continue his pursuit and turn into the worst possible version of himself. People say that Zuko should own up to the consequences of his actions. And he should. But would he have done those actions had Iroh stopped him earlier? Would he have done any of the things he did when the only remaining adult figure in his life had told him otherwise? Would he have listened to Iroh? The answer is yes. He was willing to do what Ozai had expected of him so why would he not listen to Iroh with time and patience instead of waiting till the last possible moment to do so? Children don’t automatically know right from wrong from the moment of their birth. They are taught by their parents, by the adults in their lives and Zuko had Ozai as his parental influence. And Iroh knew that. He knew the type of man his brother was and he did not try to overwrite his brother’s abuse to help his nephew until Zuko was already on the path of no return. When they became refugees Iroh still did nothing until they got to Ba Sing Se and until Zuko, again in an act of desperation, tried to capture Appa. That was when he FINALLY decided to step in. Three years since Zuko’s banishment, sixteen years of his father’s influence and abuse and he decides the very moment his nephew is close to the brink of insanity is the perfect opportunity to DESTROY his entire world view. He had worked day in and day out for two years before Aang appeared, only for his uncle, someone he TRUSTED, to tell him it was all for NOTHING. Two years of TORTURING himself. A year of fighting against his Nation’s enemies and SUDDENLY he’s being told it was all for nothing. When Iroh and Zuko reunited, Iroh told him he found his way again ‘on his own’ like how Zuko told Ozai he had to learn everything ‘on his own’. And they were both right. Zuko had no one to help him. He had to suffer through so much on his own, without anyone’s help and they’re SURPRISED he acted the way he did. When everything came to ahead in Ba Sing Se with Katara, people thought ‘Oh Zuko has changed he’s going to help Katara.’ And when he did not they HATED him for it. 

The reason for this is because Katara was the ‘good guy’ and Zuko was the ‘bad guy’. Black and white. Katara and Zuko shared a moment of understanding from both losing their mothers and Katara offered to heal his scar and he chose to side with Azula and both Katara and the viewers saw this as a betrayal on Zuko’s part. This assumption however is completely unjustified and unfounded. Everyone sees Zuko and the Fire Nation as the bad guys. The villains of the story. But Katara and the Water Tribes and Earth Kingdom were the bad guys in the Fire Nation’s eyes. Katara was the ‘savage’ standing in the way of Zuko going home. The Avatar was his home’s greatest ENEMY and THREAT. Had the situation been reversed and Katara had to choose between Zuko and the Water Tribe and her brother and father, people would have supported her choice because they were the good guys. Zuko’s people were the bad guys so it had to be the wrong decision and a betrayal to Katara and Iroh. But Zuko was an unstable, traumatized child who did not wish to believe his people were bad, who did not want to fight his home after he spent so long trying to capture Aang, his home’s greatest THREAT and ENEMY. Katara hated Zuko because he represented everything that the Fire Nation did to her family. And Zuko hated her because she was the ‘savage’ keeping him from his one way home. To Zuko, Katara was the bad guy. And looking back at their moment of sympathy where Katara said he betrayed her trust I can only ask one thing....how could Zuko have known that Katara wasn’t trying to trick him? Now, the viewers would automatically respond ‘Katara’s not like that! She wouldn’t do that!’ but the fact is, we the viewers KNOW Katara. We know she’s not that type of person because we got to know her through out the series. Zuko does NOT know her. To Zuko, she’s just another faceless enemy out to KILL his father. He chose Azula’s side because he could not accept what Iroh was saying to him because why hadn’t Iroh said so sooner? He did not want to join Aang’s side cause this was the AVATAR. The one out to KILL his FATHER and take down his HOME. When Zuko returned, he was conflicted about what he had done because he had begun to see how wrong his father and sister’s behavior and The Fire Nation’s war truly was. And Iroh cemented that further by proclaiming Zuko’s struggle was because of Roku and Sozin’s conflict when that was clearly not the case. Zuko was groomed and brainwashed by the Fire Nation propaganda like every other citizen but he was not dispelled from that belief by anyone. No one tried to make him question that belief. Iroh did not try to ‘help Zuko’ until the very last moment in Ba Sing Se. People believe Zuko betrayed Iroh because that’s how it’s supposed to be when Zuko was the ‘bad guy’ and Iroh was the ‘caring’ Uncle and ‘voice of reason’. And yet he did not think to ‘reason’ with Zuko before this entire mess even started. He did not in any way try to disrupt Zuko’s view of the other Nations or his father. In my opinion, IROH was the one who betrayed ZUKO. Iroh KNEW the entire time that what Zuko was doing was wrong. Zuko was a child who was not allowed to think for himself and Iroh KNEW Zuko was brainwashed by the exact same propaganda he himself had believed before he lost his son. If Iroh, who had believed in the Fire Nation for so many years, was unable to realize the wrongs of the war until his ADULTHOOD when he lost his son, how in the world did he expect a 13 year old child to do so? And Zuko became even more unstable and then he chose the Fire Nation.

When he realized it was wrong and went to join team Avatar, they were reasonably mistrusting.

Zuko’s redemption arc from a simple perspective, from team Avatar’s perspective was very well done. Team Avatar did not know what Zuko had been through. To them he was just another Fire Nation monster who had hurt them. To the audience, he was just another Fire Nation monster who had hurt the good guys. No one would think that deep into a fictional character’s perspective or psychological and mental state. No one would think past the ‘good guy’ and the ‘bad guy’. But one thing I cannot justify is Katara’s accusation of betrayal towards Zuko. As we have mentioned, Zuko and Katara were enemies who had a mutual hatred towards each other before his ‘redemption’. They had one single moment of shared empathy and understanding and that is NOT the basis for earned trust. What would Katara have done had she been in Zuko’s shoes? Fighting her enemies, fighting people she sees as nothing more than monsters and she has to choose between her long time enemy and her sibling and her home and her family. If she was in that position, she would choose Sokka and Hakoda and Aang and the Water Tribe over Zuko in a heartbeat because those are her FAMILY members and her FRIENDS and people would justify her because she’s the ‘good guy’. The hero. But Zuko is the villain so his actions automatically AREN’T justifiable. I understand Katara’s mistrust towards Zuko because of their history and because again, she doesn’t know anything about him or what he went through. But she cannot expect him to just automatically leave behind everything he’s ever known and ever believed in because of one single moment of understanding. Zuko should have done everything he could to make it up to the group because he owed it to them and they again, did not know any of his reasons for hunting them. But Zuko does not deserve to be labeled simply as ‘a bad guy turned good’ when he was NEVER a bad guy to begin with. When he was never even mentally stable enough to make that type of decision for himself. In today’s day and age Zuko and Azula would have BOTH ended up in a mental institution. And after all of the things he went through, Zuko was the one who ended up going back to Iroh and apologizing when Iroh was the one who abandoned him and then Zuko at 16 years old ended up as the leader of a nearly fallen apart country. He had to suffer through insomnia, assassination attempts and mental instability and abandonment. Iroh left to Ba Sing Se and only made two appearances in a total of SIX comic books after the end of the War and one of those was entirely brief. So while Iroh gets to enjoy the rest of his life selling tea, Zuko has to suffer the consequences for what his family did. He was also abandoned by Mai which brings me to another point.

Zuko’s toxic relationships.

Some people say they dislike Mai because she is emotionally abusive towards Zuko. It never occurred to me before but looking at it now, I have to say that I agree. In the comics after book 2 had ended it was shown that Azula used Mai’s childhood crush on Zuko to manipulate him into going back to the Fire Nation with her. And Mai.....I don’t even know how to get started on the entire mess that is their relationship. Mai is a person who does not like emotion. She doesn’t like to express herself and immediately shuts down anything even close to emotion. The same applies to Zuko. Zuko is a very emotionally unstable and insecure person. And instead of reassuring and calming him, Mai immediately cuts him off whenever he loses a handle of his emotions and just flat out ends their relationship on the spot. She gives Zuko no explanation, just gets angry at him and then all of a sudden when Zuko can’t take anymore and explodes she suddenly says she cares about him. Their relationship is toxic. Mai demeans his problems and things that trouble him. Quote “I just asked if you were cold, I didn’t ask for your whole life story.” when Zuko was nervous about going back home. She demeans his guilt towards Iroh and tries to make him feel better by ordering servants around. And then in the Boiling Rock episode she attacks him for his letter which is reasonable on her part, but there is the problem that despite being Zuko’s girlfriend, up until that point she was Azula’s subordinate first and foremost and she could have tried to let Azula know. Still was a shitty way of ending their relationship, I’m not gonna act like it wasn’t but I still wanted to put that perspective out there just for thought. Not to mention how she ended things in the comic books. The trust issue I understand. But I don’t understand how ONE single mistake would lead to her just immediately ending things instead of at least TRYING to work it out. She could have listened to him and seen why he was so upset and scared of messing up that he went to Ozai of all people for help. She did not stick by him when he needed her and that was what forever ruined their relationship for me. 

In simple terms, Zuko was a bad guy who became a good guy and redeemed himself.

In psychological terms, Zuko was an abuse victim who was brainwashed since his childhood, blamed for it and made into a scapegoat while his sister ended up in a mental institution because of her father’s influence and because the same people who ‘helped’ Zuko didn’t think she deserved it too.

So from what I’ve seen while rewatching the series....

Zuko never needed redeeming. Zuko needed help.

And he didn’t get it. 

[k-s-morgan]

I know there's very little that could help the situation that you're in right now, but I remember that, when I was going through a particularly tough time, I would always distract myself with one of your fics.

To give a little preface: I often do writing exercises (usually headcannons or short stories etc.) that just sit on my computer and never see the light of day, but around a year ago, I did a small piece that was heavily inspired by TGSTLTH that I never published. When I say inspired, I really do want to emphasise that I didn't just rewrite one of your stories or plagiarise it or anything of the like (I absolutely hate the thought of it), but it was just an exercise I did because I felt inspired by your style, the types of case-based plots you did, and the intensity of your characters.

The plot was inspired by Game No.6, with the dark theatricality of Sebastian and Ciel playing a game on their own terms (it was my favourite arc when I read it - I couldn't stop thinking about it for days, so this was essentially an artistic output for me). To summarise what it was about: Ciel receives a letter from the queen requesting him to investigate a surge of drug activity at a prestigious boarding school in London, and both he and Sebastian attempt to go undercover as a student and a teacher to bring it down from the inside. But, being Ciel and Sebastian, a simple case like this is not entertaining enough for them, so they decide to make a bet on whether or not Sebastian can keep his job as a teacher for the full month they'd be undercover (with Ciel trying to get him fired). Having Ciel attempting to play the part of a high-school student was a greatly entertaining concept to me, and seeing how they'd act in a classroom setting was just as amusing. The title I had in mind for the fic was 'Of Demons and Prodigies'.

I only wrote one chapter that was about 7,000 words (unfinished, so it'll probably end up at much longer than that), and wrote an extensive plan of the plot/characters, but I dropped it the same month I started it when times got busy. I've always had it in my mind to finish it, but since I never intended for anyone to see it, it was pretty low priority so I haven't touched it since then.

Going back to what I was saying at the start, I know there's very little I can do to help your situation, but I can at least try and offer what you gave me at some of the hardest times in my life – a distraction. I wasn't ever planning to publish it, but I've been wanting to finish the fic this summer, regardless. So I'd be more than happy to publish it for people to read if you'd enjoy it.

If you want a better idea of what it's like, I can share a small extract (or 'snippet', as you've so appropriately coined) from the first chapter that I wrote in a seperate Ask, but you don't have to share it publicly if you don't want to (I'm not trying to leech off your audience or anything – that's the last thing I want!)

I hope my intentions aren't misread with this - I really do just want to give something back to an author I like. But it you're not interested in such a thing, then please just say. I won't take offense since it was never intended for publication from the beginning (it was just a thought I had).

Stay safe!

Hi! Wow, I was so amazed to read your ask! Of course I'd absolutely love to read what you wrote. This is such an honor and it inspires me to write, write and write.

The idea is brilliant, I always wanted to explore Ciel and Sebastian in a school setting, but I wasn't certain if I'd ever get to it. To hear that you started a story with such a plot is very exciting, there can never be enough of these two and their endless plotting. And of course it's extremely flattering if my interpretation of these characters inspired you. Ciel and Sebastian playing game with and against each other + against others gives me life, it's truly one of the best ways of distracting myself. Years pass but my love for them remains just as strong, just as my fascination.

[razorblade180-heated]

Too much

[It’s a smut]

It was a normal day at Beacon. Same old classes. Same old delicious lunches. Same old Blake. Well, not entirely. The girl had a problem, a snag if you will. She was currently on her bed in her school uniform, sulking more than she usually does. She patiently waited for the door to open. As she did, The words of Weiss Schnee replayed through her brain…

xxxxx

“YOU ARE DATING J-” The heiress’s mouth was covered quickly by Blake, who looked panicked.

“Ssssshhhh! What part of secret did you not understand!?” Blake said through her teeth, “we don’t want attention.”

Weiss swatted the hand away and whispered, “Sorry, but you should know better than to reveal truths out of the blue like that by now. This is crazier than the last one to be frank.”

Blake wasn’t too thrilled in Weiss’s choice of words in regards to White Fang secret, but now wasn’t the time to bicker. Blake needed her help. “Weiss, I’d like…advice. Also a bit of help.”

“Okay? On what exactly?” The concern in her voice was palpable.

Blake’s face grew a little red. She couldn’t believe she was doing this. “Any...any ideas to get a guy to sleep with you?”

Now it was Weiss’s turn to blush. “Just who do you-” she lowered her voice in consideration, “just who do you think I am!? Why are you coming to me for this!?”

“Yang gets too involved in people’s business and Ruby is...she’s Ruby! I love the girl but this is not the topic she can handle.”

Weiss looked Blake up and down. Why the girl needed help was beyond Weiss’s comprehension. It was shocking Blake wasn’t beating admires back with a stick! “How long have you been dating Jaune?” She asked.

“About...five months now? That sounds right.”

Weiss could not believe her ears. Five months, how has no one noticed!? How didn’t she notice? Then again, she did find it a bit out of character of Jaune when he stopped all of romantic efforts. Looks like this was the reason why. It might’ve been her ego talking but it stung a little to know a guy moved to the next letter in her team’s name. Would Yang have been next if Blake, hold on. A thought just occurred.

“Did you ask him out, or did he ask you?” Weiss was very curious about this

Blake blinked. That was an unexpected question. “Me, why”

“No reason.” Well that actually made Weiss feel a bit better. Not that she cared or anything! “Why do you need help with...that? I would think he’d be all over you. Can’t you, ya know? Drop hints?” A terrible expression hit Weiss. “Please tell me that dunce is ignoring basic signs?” She groaned. It would only make sense.

Blake must’ve agreed because she laughed a little. “Hehe, No Weiss, he isn’t.” Blake rubbed her head in embarrassment, “He’s well aware I’m down for sex. With all the neck kisses and body touches, the message is clear.” Blake saw Weiss’s face scrunch up. “What?” She said defensively.

“It’s unpleasant thinking about Jaune in anything less than his armor. You know that hoodie apparently has a rabbit on it, right?”

“Grow up, and that hoodie is fine. You walk around pretending to be taller than 4’11”

“I just like these shoes, and I’m five feet even when they’re off!” She proclaimed, “What is the matter then? Does he not find you physically- actually, don’t answer that.” Weiss didn’t need to know any physical reactions from Jaune. “Just tell me what typically happens as safely as possible.”

Blake took a deep sigh before speaking. “It’s usually the same song and dance. We go on dates, have a good time, find a place to get cozy, I start making moves, he starts building a little momentum, but then he stops.” Even with the bow on, Blake’s ears were clearly drooping. “He just apologies and says he can’t!”

Weiss raised a brow, “That’s it?”

“Yeah.” Blake nodded, “that’s the long and short of it.”

The problem sounded simple, and normal. Like… too normal. Weiss knew besides herself, Blake was the smartest on their team. Although not sociable, Blake could read a room better than Yang or Ruby. “Blake…” Weiss said, befuddled, “How is Jaune on these dates? Attitude wise, like is he nervous?”

“No, not really. We just talk and have fun. In the beginning we were both a little awkward but now we talk and act like we’ve known each other for a long time.”

Now Weiss was a little jealous at Jaune this time! Five months was all it took to get Blake chatting like an old friend!? The amount of groundwork Weiss and the terror sisters had to put in for Blake to even go out into town casually with them was at least two months' work! Now she’s over here trying to sleep with the guy, a thing nobody saw coming.

“I gotta say, this whole thing feels a little wild. To think five months of secrecy lead to this conversation? If he’s as calm you say then I can’t think of many reasons to panic. I mean I get someone having a little anxiety when giving up your first time, but I hear that’s mainly on the girl’s part. You’re all calm though.” Weiss said. She wasn’t expecting Blake’s eyes to shift away slightly, as if the girl was hiding something. “You are calm, right?”

“Huh? Yeah I’m totally calm” Blake clucked her tongue, “because...it’s not my first time.” Her body swayed back and forth out, trying to finish her sentence. “I’ve been in a couple relationships before this. Some good, some abysmal.”

Yet another surprise to add to the list. “Wait, you’re not a virgin?” Weiss couldn’t believe this. Who knew Blake surpassed her in many social and mature experiences. The way she usually was, Weiss couldn’t imagine Blake being that way. The girl once spent an entire weekend reading in the dorm room. This new information though made Weiss come to realize that she previously assumed. She just had to ask one more question. “Does Jaune know that?”

“Of course.” Blake said, feeling a little insulted. “I wouldn’t lie to him or not be open enough to talk about my past.

Weiss sighed in disbelief at her faunus friend. Perhaps her assessment of Blake reading a room well was a little off. As much as Jaune had been annoying to Weiss, she felt bad for his clearly anxious soul. “Blake, I expect this kind of cluelessness from our leader.”

Blake looked rough left and to the right as if anyone else was there to explain. “Uhhh what?” She said, actually a little stumped.

Weiss put her hands together like she was dealing with an interviewer with zero experience. “Let’s put it this way. You have asked me why your boyfriend, who is most definitely a virgin, shys away from sleeping with you? A beautiful girl who’s already had experience. Ya don’t think he’s you know, incredibly nervous of not meeting pre-established expectations? You know you’re boyfriend, Jaune Arc, the same Jaune Arc that worries about everything else in his life going well?”

Blake just...sat quietly for a moment. Her brain wasn’t even having a gears turning moment. She was upset with herself that those gears weren’t spinning from the beginning. There was nothing to figure out at all! She had simply glanced over that possibility! Her hands held her head as she let out a long groan. “Uuuuugggg What is wrong with me? Of course he fucking is. I’ve been so caught up thinking I was doing something physically wrong, or I was wrong.”

A part of that sounded like baggage. Baggage Weiss wasn’t about to unpack. “Well, question solved. Unfortunately, he’s right to worry. I can’t imagine anybody giving a good first performance. Has he even seen you fully naked?”

“We’ve sent pictures, and did a bit of touching. That second one though was always in...un-private areas, so clothes stayed on.

“Did you just tell me you two are doing things in public?” Weiss criticized. At this point, the girl known as Blake Belladonna might as well be a stranger. Weiss didn’t know this person! Her Blake was not this forward. When did they have time for any of this!? Was she not actually reading in the dorm room!!? “Also, I may not have ever slept with a woman, but I’m sure seeing their assets over a screen is less stressful than in my face.

Blake uncovered her face. “Explain Yang walking out the shower naked then?”

“That’s not stress you see, that’s envy. Next time she does it I’m turning the droplets on her into ice, and stop changing the subject!”

Blake threw her arms up, ���Having a secret relationship means not having access to our dorms. That actually brings us to the favor I mentioned…”

“No, I will not give you money for a hotel.” Weiss deadpanned.

Blake’s jaw fell open. “Why not!? It doesn’t have to be a suite.”

Weiss rubbed the bridge of her knows as she thinks about her bank account. “No one carries enough cash to pay for a hotel room. Theoretically I could swipe my credit card, but then the bill is now in my purchase history. I do not need to explain in any capacity why I’m staying in a hotel. A person is bound to assume what I’m doing is exactly what you want to do. Nah uh, can’t do it.” Blake put her head down. Weiss couldn’t help but feel a little bad for her. She’s clearly been putting in the effort to sleep with Jaune, for some reason. Well he was...no no, that’s a rabbit hole that could stay closed. “How long do you need with him?” Weiss asked, committed to solving this problem for the sake of already being included.

Blake’s head popped up quickly . “Two, no, three hours. Give or take an extra half hour.”

Weiss blushes, “wh..why so long?”

“Just in case…” Blake mumbled, “Anything could happen.”

“For three hours? What are you, an animal in heat?” It didn’t even take a second for Weiss to realize how fucked up that question was. She placed her hand over Blake’s mouth as her friend's eyes were getting hostile. “Sorry! That was unrelated to anything, honest!”

Blake was kind enough to believe Weiss at her word, but still petty enough to lick the girl’s hand, making her shriek.

“Eeeiiik!!! Blake!”

“Three hours please.”

Weiss sighed, “Fine. Getting Ruby and Yang to stay out of there that long is doable. They always wanna drag me around to do things that will give me ‘culture’ as they put it. How are you gonna handle Jaune?”

“I….good question.”

Yep, definitely doesn’t read the room well. “Blake, just be easy with him. Reassuring words, all that stuff. It’s his first after all.”

Blake was surprised by the advice. “Wow, that’s really sweet of you to care about him like that.”

Weiss crosses her arms and turns away. “I’m doing this for you, not him. And for me. Jaune moping is way worse than when he’s confident. Hmph!”

xxxxx

“Come on Jaune! What’s taking so long?” Blake thought, fidgeting on her bed. A click of the door lock made her jump to her feet as it opened slowly. Jaune’s head peaked into the room, confused.

“Umm hello?”He looked to the right and saw Blake. “Oh, hey. I got your text and Weiss told me to swing by the moment I could. Everything okay?” Jaune walked in completely and shut the door. Something about this felt uncharacteristically serious. Even for Blake.

She took Jaune’s hand and guided him towards her bed to sit. “Okay, how to start this?” She sighed.

“I hope it starts with you telling me this isn’t a break up?” He said, worrying that he was in trouble. “That would be nice.”

Blake rubbed his back and smiled. “Relax, this isn’t that kind of talk. It’s actually...kinda the opposite.”

“The opposite? Like...marriage?” Jaune’s eyes widened. He wasn’t expecting that kind of conversation. “Don’t you think we’re too young for all that?”

Blake’s face turned red. The fact that’s where his mind went was actually pretty sweet. “Sex Jaune. I see how you got there, but I was referring to sex.” Blake mumbled. “Can we talk about it? We keep building up to it, but then you stop.”

His face got red. “I...it’s just…ummm” he couldn’t find the words. If Yang was here then he was sure a cat having his tongue pun would’ve been said. Jaune rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed about wimping out. Speaking only got worse when Blake took it upon herself to straddle his lap. Gods, she was too beautiful. Her eyes left him defenseless. The way her hands slowly ran up his chest and over his shoulders as the smell of lavender wafted over him. “Bl-Blake?”

“I like you.” She suddenly confessed, “I like you for who you are. The things you can do, can’t do, and never have done; I’m okay with all of it. If you’re thinking I’m ranking you to any previous experience, you’re wrong. The only experience I think about with you, is us. Our experiences.” Her right hand pulls his collar away from his neck. The urge to bite her lip is overwhelming as an urge in her core starts to burn. “Let me experience you.” She whispers. Blake leans in and begins kissing his neck. Honestly, she wanted to take things slower for his sake, but all but yearned for Jaune to touch her. So much so that it was a bit dizzying.

Jaune’s body flinched as Blake’s lips grazed his neck, nipping and licking it. “Blake…” Jaune moaned. His mind was still playing catch up, but his body was right on pace. His hands traveled up the feline’s toned legs and squeezed the round ass that rested on his lap, earning him a moan. Blake moved from his neck and captured his lips. Her hands went to his jawline to keep his face close. As if he thought about escaping.

Blake openly moaned as she felt his fingers kneed her ass like dough. She caught him by surprise when she slipped her tongue into his mouth, luring his into her own. Slowly, Blake locked her body back and forth to stir him up. The low groan he let out was a good sign she had done her job. Still, they have gotten this far before. Blake was determined to get further.

Her lips finally freed Jaune. The boy was flushed completely, catching his breath in rhythm with hers. Blake took the opportunity to remove only her blazer, then brought Jaune’s left hand away from her ass and onto her breast. Her fingers overlapped his and pressed down, making him squeeze it gently. “Touch me…” the lust in her voice flowed like a river. The way she felt Jaune’s hand quiver told her that he was still pretty anxious.

Jaune found it within himself to bring both of his hands to the top button of her shirt. A small smile on Blake’s face appeared as she closed her eyes and puffed her chest out a bit more as a sign to go ahead. “Take your time.” She said. Being patient wasn’t Blake’s strongest quality, but with Weiss’s advice in mind, she did her best to contain herself. It was funny. Jaune being nervous was actually making her heart beat faster.

Cool air hit her chest as her shirt was undone, revealing a purple lace bra. Firm hands went around her back. “I can handle the bra if you’re having tr-” a little pop noise was made as her bra strap was undone faster than her shirt. “Trouble…” she finished.

Jaune let out a sheepish chuckle. “Hehe, seven sisters, remember. I’m no stranger to how bras work. They left them everywhere.

“Jaune, you’re like a bag of tricks.” Blake smiled, “I just never know what comes next with you. That being said, I have a good idea that I'll be leading from here.” Blake let her bra fall, making Jaune gasp under his breath. Blake found his reaction to her D sized chest. His face got redder by the second as Blake brought his hands to them.

Jaune refused to speak. He’d hate to ruin the mood right now. He couldn’t believe how soft Blake felt. The way his fingers pressed against her as he massaged each boob. His pointer fingers grazed over her pale, pink nipples made the girl settle more into his lap.

“Mmmm~” Blake moaned, biting her lip from the touch. Jaune took it as a sign to keep going. A wise choice. Blake once again started to buck her hips against what had to be Jaune’s rock hard erection. Even with clothes on, it’s heat reached Blake’s equally hot core. Blake’s hands got busy. She scooted back a bit for them to have enough room to unbuckle Jaune’s pants. Her fingers traced along his lower stomach before dipping below the waistband and wrapping the throbbing erection. Blake leaned forward to capture his tongue yet again as he groaned from the feeling of her nimble fingers stroking his down.

Blake managed to pull his length up and out of his pants completely. She scooted forward again and rubbed his exposed cock against her wet panties. Her clit ground against the shaft. Blake mewled lustfully from Jaune squeezing her breast harder than before. Blake felt her tongue get drawn in and sucked on lightly. Someone was getting excited. The hot precum that ran down her hands only made it easier for Blake to pump faster.

Jaune couldn’t contain his groans and grunts. His hands gripped Blake’s ass again to hold her close. His kiss with her was broken by her going to kiss and bite his neck. “Blake…”

“Sshhh” Blake whispered, “cum for me.” If it wasn’t for her underwear, Jaune’s cock would be sliding up and down her soaked folds right now. The tip pressed against her clit and sent a shiver through Blake’s body that made her grind harder against it. She could tell Jaune was at the end of his rope. His hands gripped her even tighter as Jaune’s throbbing length finally let out a thick white seed that painted Blake’s moist thighs and panties. Blake smiled seductively as she slowed down the roll of her hips, letting him ride out his pleasure and wring out whatever remained inside.

“Blake!” Jaune hissed from the pleasure. Her hands pressed against his rising chest, making him lean back until his forearms had to support his body. Blake dismounted him to stand up for a moment then raised the sides of her soiled skirt, giving Jaune a clear view of the mess he made on the girl.

“Someone’s healthy.” Blake teased, “I wasn’t expecting so much.” Blake’s face became a deep red. Imagining the thought of this load inside her made her weak in all the right ways.

The sight of his and Blake’s arousal slowly trailing down her well toned legs was enough to leave anyone speechless. It didn’t help that her black panties were damp enough to outline the entrance to what Jaune would know to be a very intense experience. And as bad as he wanted it, Jaune couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed by his performance. “Not to kill the mood or sound ungrateful, but cumming alone is a bit… ehhh” was the best way he could describe himself.

Blake playfully rolled her eyes. Boys will be boys. “Well it’s not like we’re finished yet. Besides I literally told you cum. Rest assured I’ll get my moment a bliss before the end of this. Just have a bit of confidence. We’re still foreplaying.”

“I’m not an expert on this but is foreplay always this intense? I don’t think I’ve ever came that hard.” He admitted.

“It varies. Honestly...” Blake looked down at Jaune’s semi-flaccid dick. She slowly walked closer to the bed. Her hand tugged on Jaune’s slacks, prompting him to scoot down a bit more until Blake felt he was close enough. The young woman pulled a bit harder to pull his pants down and of the way of getting ruined. All why never taking her eyes off of him or is cum covered length. “....I like watching how good I make you feel.” She purred, getting excited again.

Jaune has no response to such a confession. Nor could he say anything as she bent over to grab his dick. Just her touching it was enough to make him grow. To get points even further across, Blake’s golden eyes looked right into his eyes as she made him tremble from placing her tongue at the base and lick up; agonizingly slow and deliberate too.

Blake took her time swirling around Jaune to collect the remnants of his load before taking him into her mouth for real. Jaune’s body tensed immediately and hand instinctively went to her head to brace himself as she bobbed up and down. His fingers wrapped around strains of hair, tugging them. Blake purred again with him down her throat and began watching him squirm.

“Blake!” He gasped. The girl only sped. Each time she went lower and lower while her tongue stroked the underside of his shaft. Before Jaune knew it, he was fully erect again and felt like he could cum again if she continued. “Blake! T-Timeout!” He yelled.

Blake gladly stopped. She had proved her point, gotten him hard again, and was pleasantly surprised to learn Jaune wasn’t that bitter in the slightest. Maybe it was his natural scent or something but Blake could see herself getting a bit too into sucking him off. That taste lingered on her and made her body burn up. “Need a break?”

“Not really.” He fibbed, knowing full well a girl who just went down him could probably tell just how into that experience he was. “I just… If I’m coming twice, I’d rather you get some action too.”

“Oh, okay.” Blake’s heart fluttered a bit. He really wanted her to feel good with him. “Then, let’s skip to the fun part.” Blake removed her panties that really should’ve removed earlier, along with the skirt.

Jaune marveled at his beautiful girlfriend who stood before him. Yeah they had sent pictures and sure she’s been topless for several minutes now, but it felt different once everything came off. Her long, beautiful legs went on each side of him, letting him have a full view of a wanting velvet core that hovered above his cock. A thin line of Blake’s arousal made both of teens blush as it dripped onto him. Jaune took his right thumb and pressed against her entrance, rubbing it slowly and watching how it coated his thumb.

“Mmmm~” Blake let out a breath that shook with excitement. Her chest began to rise and fall more distinctly and her back arched ever so slightly as she closed her eyes. “Please don’t fucking team me too long.” She moaned, nudging her hips to gain more friction.

Jaune was mesmerized by the way she acted. He sunk his thumb into her just to watch her crane her neck up and moan again. If he wasn’t excited before, he was now. “You’re so fucking wet…” pushing further in to feel her walls tighten. He kept a slow rhythm when pulling out, just to push right back in.

Blake bit her lip. Her hands ran up his shirt to expose his chest. She had to remember to thank

Pyrrha for putting Jaune through such rigorous training. He was well on his way to being the huntsman he so dearly dreamed of. It was funny but the more Blake thought it about, the more she realized what made her so drawn to him. Even when Jaune lacked experience, he set his sights high. Sure they could be a little too high at times, but you know what? There was something great about that. “I thought I told you not to tease me? I want you to give it to me.” Blake purred. She mustered the resolve to pry Jaune’s hand from her body and took hold of something much bigger and lively. “Ready for a ride? Just relax and let me lead okay?”

Jaune nodded. He watched Blake lower herself without a second thought. His hips instinctively bucked up as he felt the indescribable pleasure of wet, heated walls pulled him in tightly, refusing to let go. Jaune closed his eyes and gripped her waist.

“Feeling good?” Blake shuddered. The feeling of Jaune rubbing her insides so deep made her want to move immediately. Blake put her hands against Jaune’s chest and began rocking her hips. The grip Jaune had on her tightened. A low groan strained from his throat. Blake leaned forward until her breast pressed against him. “It gets better.” Her knees started feeling weak as raised her hips, having Jaune’s dick slid out until the tip remained. Blake then dropped her hips down, slamming his cock back inside of her. Again and again she did that, picking up the speed each time until the sound of her ass smacking against his lap filled the room and rocked the bed. Blake’s body was on autopilot. The feeling of her womb being invaded and walls being grazed, shocked Blake each time Jaune’s dick spearheaded inside of her wanting pussy. “Oh fuck yes…” Blake gasped, licking and biting Jaune’s neck.

The boy was going through it right now. Never had Jaune felt this kind of heat. No amount of foreplay could prepare anybody for this. Each slight movement felt like a jolt of lightning. His mind and body were conflicted. On one hand, Jaune wanted to hold out as long as possible. Yet his hips had other plans. Jaune couldn’t stop himself from timing his movements with Blake’s, thrusting deep into her for even greater pleasure

Blake had no problem with this whatsoever. “Ahhh~ just like that!” Blake encouraged, “You’re so deep...mmmm” the heat between them only grew. Their bodies worked up a sweat and Blake found herself panting more than moaning. Letting Jaune cum once was a good idea. Not only for him to last longer for this moment, but even Blake wasn’t confident her experience would give her an edge against his stamina. High sex drive or not, Blake knew herself well. Satisfying her needs wasn’t as trying as Jaune might think. Especially when she’s topping.

Blake sat up and leaned back a bit. She braced her hands behind her back and began rocking back and forth with Jaune completely inside of her.

Jaune couldn’t take his eyes off of Blake’s body as it grinded on him. The woman’s eyes were shut tight as she focused on the pleasure, while her boobs bounced from each rock. “You’re so beautiful.” He said without thinking. The compliment was heard though, since Blake immediately started going even faster. Jaune let out another groan. He wanted her so bad. Sitting still just wasn’t his style.

Blake’s concentration was broken when she felt strong arms around her lower back. She opened her eyes to see the blonde knight sit up as well. “Jaune?” She said confused. Instead of answering her. Jaune gave her a chaste but strong kiss before his mouth went suck on one of her tits. “Jaune!” She moaned, gripped his hair. Blake arched her back as she felt him lick and suck it, while groping the other one. The assault on her body only intensified when his remaining free hand fell to her ass to squeeze it while she continued to fuck herself on his dick until her mind felt foggy. “This is...too much!” Her hand clung to him. “And you were worried!?” She asked knowing he couldn’t speak right now.

Jaune might’ve been happy by the question if he wasn’t too busy fighting off his fast approaching orgasm. It was crazy Blake was the one saying he was doing too much. Her scent, the way her body pressed against his, the sounds that escaped her beautiful lips, and the way she moved her hips. As if she was trying to milk everything out of him all at once. Every part of her wax too much yet Jaune could only want more, surrendering to the embrace of her soaked walls. Jaune gasped for air. “Blake, I….I can’t...”

Words were beyond him. All he could do was buck in between Blake’s legs.

A seductive smile grew on her face as she went faster. “That’s right, fuck me just like this….and cum. Blake leaned into his, “Hard…”

A slave to her voice, Jaune obeyed Blake’s words without fail. He could only manage several more intoxicating moments before the urge to cum was too strong to deny. Jaune held her close and kept her there; shooting ropes white inside her.

Blake felt Jaune bite down on her shoulder as he filled her deep. All the rough touches and spasms was more than enough to push her over the edge. “Shit…” she said with a shrill voice. Her arms and legs wrapped tightly around his body and Blake buried her face in the crook of neck. Blake tried resisting but her nails dug into his back as her orgasm finally hit. Every muscle in her body tensed up. Her toes curled and she could feel Jaune throbbing inside her as her body tried taking everything the boy had to give.

Neither could speak. They could only cling to each other for what felt like forever before the waves of pleasures finally subsided. Blake was the first to loosen her grip. The girl's limbs released tension and she had zero desire to move an inch. It was only when Jaune went to tilt her head up by her chin that the two looked at each other with a mix of gratification and exhaustion. Blake positioned his hand for her head to rest in, purring at the feel of his touch.

Jaune let out at chuckle. He fell backwards onto the bed with Blake following him down. The girl laid on top of him and continued purring.

“Yeah I don’t see what you were worried about.” She said, teasingly.

“Hey, when Blake Belladonna says she wants to have her way with you, panic sets in. So, good time?”

Blake flicked his forward. “You have me laying on top of you naked and purring.”

“Yeah, fair point. Phew, well that’s good. I like making you happy.”

Blake blushed as she felt his arms hold her gently. “Hmm well looks like you’ve given me a new experience after all.”

“What, cuddling after sex?”

“Mmmhmmm.” Blake hummed, “No time to cuddle when you’re you know, working in a cult. Luxuries like that don’t exist.”

Jaune smirked, “Gee, I never would’ve guessed.” Blake pinched him for that sarcastic remark. Not that it actually did anything. “Well I’m happy to be your first post sex cuddle experience. Though it’s a little risky isn’t it?”

“We have like three hours before anyone shows up. It’s fine.”

“Not exactly the issue I had in mind but good to know.”

Blake’s eyelids felt heavy. That was until the feeling of Jaune’s hands on her butt shocked her away. The feeling of him swelling inside her again made her shudder. Stamina was dangerous. “Please, fifteen minutes. We have like three hours.” She groaned. “Then I’ll have you screaming all over again.”

“Fine by me, but this time I’m getting you off at least twice. Two to one just isn’t fair. I want you just as pleased as me.”

Looking back on things, Blake mentally retracted her statement about boys and their pride. Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all. “I’ll hold you to that.” Blake closed her eyes and got some rest.

xxxx

“We’re back!” Yang shouted as she walked in with her two teammates. She looked over to see Blake chillin on her bed reading in her sleeping clothes. “Gee if it wasn't for your clothes then I would’ve believed you actually sat there and read the entire time. I’m surprised you haven’t finished all of your books.”

“I’m a slow reader.” Blake blatantly lied. “I did finish a couple of times, books I mean.” Her eyes looked up from the pages to see Weiss staring at her in voiceless disbelief. She wiggled her eyebrows, making Weiss turn red.

The heiress turned around and walked out the room.

“Weiss, where are you going?” Ruby asked.

The Schnee sighed and kept walking. “A place that makes sense.”

Ruby didn’t know what that meant she looked at Yang who shrugged, then to Blake who masterfully controlled her laughter. “Huh, I guess Blake reading slowly through her for a loop?”

It was impossible for Blake not to place her book over her face and smile behind it. “Never change Ruby.” She muttered, “Never change.”

[hms-tardimpala]

I love Cobra Kai, it's my Cringey Bad Show With Moments Of Brillance™.

(long-ass gushing/rant and spoilers ahead)

Cobra Kai requires constant suspension of disbelief, it doesn't have the best pacing, half the humor is horrendous, the character writing is often stupid as shit, it's such a dumb show!

It also has insanely satisfying setup-payoffs, good dramatic irony, it's at its funniest when it's self-aware and laughing of itself, which it does gladly, and it goes to the trouble of giving you gray characters who go through multi-seasons arcs to better themselves (or the opposite). It's such a fun show!

And very importantly in today's media landscape, it pulls off being the necromantic resurrection of a beloved 80s franchise. It could easily have kept the black-and-white naive, squeaky-clean tone of the Karate Kid movies, but it said "Fuck it" from the first episode. It respects its KK roots but expands on them, adds depth and layers it didn't have to. Does it always do it well? Hell no. But seriously, this show didn't need to make that effort. With its premise, it had no right to be that good.

Obviously the show leans heavily on nostalgia, but it manages not to be a total nostalgia fest and brings some interesting things to the table.

Now, having just finished S5 (a lame season, but which had moments that made me cheer and curse out loud), I want to say how much I love how dark CK can get.

Like, it starts easy. A bullied kid, some teenagers slugging it karate-style at a school dance, a tournament to tell who's the winner. Then the brawls get less and less funny. There's slut-shaming. More kids get involved, more get hurt. A teenager gets his spine broken in his high school staircase. This is more the real world than KK, so you've got kids going to juvie for their actions, others who are scarred and traumatized for life.

Then the show goes further. Adults are involved in this now. They beat each other up directly and by proxy through children. There's breaking and entering, destruction of homes, arson. An adult sexually harasses a teenage girl in a precarious living situation. Vietnam veterans' trauma and domestic violence get discussed. There's physical and psychological abuse and manipulation left and right, between adults, between teens, from adults to kids. A grown man destroys another's hard-earned mental health because he feels lonely. There's assault and attempted murder. Kids breaking each other's bones in public settings.

And season 5! The violence keeps escalating. It's the only language some of these kids know by now. And the adults who taught them are just as traumatized and wrapped up in it and they can't stop either. There's arson again, people's lives are getting ruined by what started as a petty rivalry. A teenager is forced to injure herself to prove her loyalty by a group of adults who won't let her leave. A man teaches a child a karate strike that can break a ribcage and suffocate an oponent, and the only reason it doesn't happen is the child in question isn't strong enough yet, but he tries. You've got a sword fight and a man left to bleed out in a pool. A group of four men trying to beat one to death because they've been ordered to. A guy gets his finger cut off. Constant child endangerement and serious injuries that are ignored, and the psychological toll of all that isn't even acknowledged by the characters most of the time.

And of course all ends well, wounds heal and nobody dies, and it's not even gory, but still, it gave me the chills. As someone who enjoys on-screen violence immensely, it's very rare that I wish said violence would stop. That show is unbelievable, ridiculously over-dramatic, cheesy, and also too fucking real sometimes. Like a guy who's always laughing and making jokes, and one day he has too many drinks and lets slip something that reveals how much trauma he's suppressing.

I love this show and these characters. Out of this huge ensemble cast, there's only one character I haven't changed my mind on from the beginning and gone from hating or loving them to the opposite. (and it has great ships for all tastes!!)

Anyway, season 5 was awfully bad. And I enjoyed it. I'm done talking about the karate soap opera on this tumblr for a while, I think.

[winterscaptain]

figure it out.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: this has been in my wips for literal months as i’ve done my best to get it just right for yall. i hope you enjoy it, and tell me what you think! There’s an addendum to this one, and i’m already working on it, but we’ll see a few more things before that’s ready :)

words: 3.5k warnings: sex mention, sex implication, language

summary: “love is like a backache. it doesn’t show up on an x-ray, but you know it’s there.” - george burns. au!january 2012. 

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

You roll over in bed when your alarm goes off, but you don’t get very far. Aaron throws an arm over you and pulls you back to him with a grumble. 

You huff a laugh and wiggle up against him. It’s all a tease and you both know it - there isn’t any time to get up to anything fun before work, but it’s far too entertaining to rile him up.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish.” His voice escapes his lips between your shoulder blades and you can feel his smile. 

“Oh, trust me, babe. I can finish.” 

He hums, his smile breaking out into something real. “I noticed.” 

+++

When the two of you finally make it out of bed (surprisingly still on time), you grab one of Aaron’s scarves and a hat on your way out. It’s your turn to drop Jack at school today on your way into the office, and the task serves two purposes. 

The first? It’s nice to spend time with Jack, just the two of you, when it’s your turn and you’re not on a case. It’s the same for Aaron, who always leaves a little earlier so he and Jack can sit down somewhere and have breakfast together.

The second is pure logistics. You two can’t show up to work in the same car at the same time, so a convenient excuse to separate and stagger your arrivals is welcome. 

“Really?” 

Aaron’s question stops you at the threshold and you look over your shoulder “What?” 

“My hat? My scarf?” 

It’s almost too tempting to cave when he’s looking at you like that - his tie hanging around his neck, shirt untucked, arms crossed, and playful frown hiding a smile. 

“Yeah. It’s warm and it’s here and we’re late.” 

Jack squints up at you and says, “We’re not late.”

“You’re not late.”

The observations come within split seconds of each other and you laugh. 

“Fine. Not late, but warm. And you have more hats.” You scamper back into the house to plant a kiss on his lips, smoothing the hair at his temples. 

Jack’s laughter is the underscore to your next quip. “You’re very handsome and I’m sure you’re very smart so you can figure it out.” 

“Yeah, Dad,” Jack chirps. “Figure it out.”

He has nothing to say to your retreating forms as he catches a glimpse of your smile through the crack in the closing door.

+++

Emily and Spencer are away at a conference-book-signing thing, so it’s just the five of you and Penelope this morning. You’d normally figure that would be Rossi’s purview, but apparently - 

“My book-signing days have been put on hold indefinitely in favor of -”

“ - He’s back.” Garcia interrupts, tossing case files at all of you. The conversation is cut short and you suppress a smile. “The Marin headlands last night.” 

You can see Aaron’s lips pull as well. 

It’s the little things. 

Penelope gestures with the notes and crime scene photos appear on the screen. “David Atley and Nicole Puli, both 24, both grad students at Berkeley, shot multiple times in their vehicle-- wait for it--” She clicks again and a familiar sigil appears. 

“The Zodiac?” Morgan’s shock is almost sardonic in its delivery. 

Rossi snorts. “No way.”

“Come on,” Derek says, amused, while JJ chimes in as well. 

 “It's gotta be the 2.0 version.”

While neither of you speak, you share a glance with Aaron. You’re kidding. 

He only raises his eyebrows for a split second and shrugs. 

There’s some part of you a little paranoid that you’re the most obvious couple to exist in the history of the universe. Sure, the team has been teasing you about your friendship for years, the will-the-won’t-they of it all, but now that it’s real you’re almost terrified that they know everything. 

Thus, the overcompensation has been wretched. You and Aaron barely look at each other in the field if you can help it (which you usually can’t) and he tends to put you with Derek more often than not. 

In truth, the others have noticed, but are far too interested in the spectacle to say anything. Emily’s almost certain the two of you have slept together, and Dave may or may not have suggested the possibility of a secret marriage during your period of suspension. 

However far-fetched and ridiculous their theories, they know you two well enough to know that something happened. The tension is gone. 

Derek almost finds himself missing the tension. There hasn’t been much to tease you about lately in its absence. 

“Yeah, you would think so, except for the crazy similarities in the MO.” Penelope clicks through the photos as she talks. 

“I'm talking same victimology, same geography. And,” she adds. “Two souvenirs were left at the crime scene.” She clicks once more and stands back for the full effect. 

“He left a photo?” Rossi asks.

She hums in the affirmative. “Local police say that is Marcia Miller. She was found near Napa in 1971. Strongly suspected that she was a victim of the Zodiac, but police never confirmed it and they didn't publicize the case.” 

Morgan’s still squinting at the screen. “So the Zodiac took this photo at the killing and then saved it all these years?”

“The Zodiac's last confirmed victim was the cabdriver Paul Stine,” Dave notes devolving into a conversation about The Zodiac, his timeline, his signature. 

It’s nothing new - The Zodiac Killer’s case details are common knowledge in your line of work, nevermind the sheer number of copycats that try their hand at the highly-ritualistic murders before inevitably getting arrested. 

There’s a reason this guy hasn’t been caught in forty years. 

After a few minutes of bouncing between you all, Hotch pushes back from the table and stands. “Have Reid and Prentiss meet us in San Francisco. Wheels up in 30.”

He heads straight to his office to collect his things and you swing in by the tips of your fingers for just a second. “You wanna call Jess or do you want me to?” 

In the middle of throwing files in his briefcase, he doesn’t look up when he answers. “Can you, please? I was supposed to meet with Strauss this afternoon and need to stop by her office before wheels up.” 

You smile at him, tapping the door frame twice. “You got it.” 

+++

It’s boots on the ground right away when you land in San Francisco. You drive to the crime scene with Aaron in the passenger seat beside you and JJ in the back. The radio’s on, and you sing under your breath, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel as you make your way up to the crime scene. 

Before you get to the local FBI agents, JJ catches you by the sleeve. “It’s nice to have music in the car again.” 

You just smile at her. Aaron looks a little puzzled. 

The three of you wipe the looks off your faces by the time you get to Agent Lynn. 

+++

“What did JJ mean?” Aaron asks you. 

The two of you are alone for the time being, posted up in the conference room with the old Zodiac case files. You look up. “Hmm?” 

“What did she mean when she mentioned the music earlier?” 

“Oh.” A little flush of embarrassment shoots down your gut. “Derek pointed out to me last summer that I didn’t play any music in the car.” 

...while you were gone is the thing you don’t say, but he knows that’s what you mean. 

“I didn’t really notice.” You shrug to cover your fib. “I guess I’ve reacquainted myself with the radio in the last couple of weeks.” 

Aaron hums, returning to his work. Something’s off, but you’re sure it’ll come up later. 

+++

“You don’t think it’s really him, do you?” You ask, unbuttoning your shirt and throwing your pajamas on. 

Surprisingly, this case seems to be one of those that allows for sleep at regular hours. For that, you’re grateful. It’s much harder to find time to wind down with Aaron at the end of the day when you’re all forced to sleep in shifts. 

Aaron shakes his head, “No, I think Reid’s right. We’re looking at a particularly sophisticated copycat.” 

“Isn’t that kind of worse?” Hopping up on your bed, you curl up and look at him over your nose - a clear invitation to join you. 

With a huff down his nose and a little smile, he flops down beside you and props his chin on his arms over your belly. “Could be. Luckily, we have Reid.” 

You almost think he’s going to say something else, but he gets that pensive look on his face again. 

“What?” 

With a sigh, he says, “I’m just thinking about what JJ said.” 

“Oh, Aaron -” 

He doesn’t let you finish. It’s probably a good thing. You didn’t know what you wanted to say anyway. 

“I knew how hard it was on me, but I’m realizing more and more how hard it was on you, too.” He shakes his head. “I feel ...I don’t know. I feel like I should have known better… or something.” 

Winding your fingers in his hair, you sit in silence for a moment. He doesn’t have anything more to say and eventually he crawls up your body and settles in under your arm, his head on your chest and legs wound between yours.

Sometimes, you’ve found, he likes to feel small.  

“You’re safe and you’re home. That’s what matters.” You kiss the top of his head. “And I love you.” 

He hums, arcing into your touch and wrapping an arm around your waist. “I love you.” 

+++

You spend much of the next day chasing Spencer around the city, keeping notes handy (for yourself, not for him - he doesn't need them) and reporting back on his discoveries to the team like some kind of overwrought and hyper-trained secretary. 

Stepping off to the side, you answer a call from Aaron. 

“Hit your limit yet?” 

You look over at Spencer, who’s flipping through a newspaper like a man on a mission. “It’s actually kind of entertaining.” 

And that’s actually true. Watching Spencer push the limits of his intelligence is always a treat - it happens so rarely you almost forget how much you enjoy it every time. 

He huffs into the phone. “Hang in there. We’ll all meet back at the precinct once Reid’s done -”

“Doing magic?” 

“Exactly. Keep me posted.” There’s a pause. It’s an odd little habit you two developed in the field to leave space for the words you can’t say in front of the others. 

I love you.

“Me too.” 

+++

You’re almost asleep when a sliver of yellow light shoots across your room, promptly disappearing as the door to the hallway closes. 

He pads across the room and slips under the covers. “Hi.” 

A little smile crosses your face as you roll over to face him. “Hi.”

Before you can say anything else, his hands are on you and he’s half on top of you as he captures your lips. 

Needless to say, the lack of sleep is worth it. 

+++

Emily, long after she and Aaron are the only ones left in the precinct conference room, squints as she notices something right under his collar. 

He’s already loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his dress shirt, no longer standing on ceremony now that all the local police have retired and the rest of the team gone up to their hotel rooms. There’s not much to do, but the compulsion to get ahead for tomorrow is one neither one of them can shake. 

What Aaron failed to remember when executing his wardrobe adjustment was the rather...spirited romp in your room the night prior. The little purple swatches painted on his skin just under the line of his collar stood out stark against the crisp lines of his dress shirt. 

Fortunately for you, there was no way in hell the rest of the team would find anything he left on you last night. 

Emily reaches into her purse and pulls out a tube of concealer and a powder compact. Though he’s more olive-toned than she is, it’ll be good enough in a pinch. “Hey, Hotch.” 

He looks at her over his nose, his eyes tired. 

“You might want this for tomorrow morning.” She pushes the crisis control kit across the table to him, but he only frowns and deepens his squint. 

By way of explanation, she reaches across the table and presses the tip of her finger into one of the visible bruises in the hollow of his throat. He flinches, freezes, and then immediately drops his head into his hands. 

It’s easy to say Emily is amused in the extreme. “Those look...really fresh.” 

He shakes his head, insisting as he picks up a file at random, “They’re from before we left.” 

It’s only because it’s Emily that he’s even humoring this conversation. 

“No they’re not.” She sticks her tongue firmly in her cheek. “These ones are though.” She points at yellowing marks on his collarbone and he smacks her hands away. 

“And I know what fresh hickies look like, Hotch. Those are fresh fresh. Like, last night fresh. And we’ve been here for four days.” She frowns, tracking back through the day. “When on earth would you have time to -” 

A series of images flash through her head, random wayward connections flashing together in an alarmingly clear picture.

You, avoiding her at the office back in September with quickly-covered marks painted across your neck.

You, flirting with Sean and having way too much fun doing it, looking over his shoulder at ...someone else.

Hotch, in a perpetually good mood (for him, anyway, and despite looking ill-slept) for the last five months. 

The way the mistletoe kiss at Dave’s Christmas party looked way too easy, too familiar. 

And now, the obvious indicators that Hotch is not only getting it, he’s getting it good. 

If he got those last night…

Wait. 

Their hotel rooms are right next to …

Oh my God. 

Hotch watches the realization flash across Emily’s face, and he knows you’re both busted. Instead of losing her shit like he expected, Emily just leans back in her chair - smug. 

“So. Are you still Not the Boyfriend, or has there been an update?”

He sighs. 

The corner of her mouth tips up. “How long?”

“For which part? The not-boyfriend part, the boyfriend part, or this part?” He gestures vaguely to the space behind his tie, and Emily snorts. 

“Just spill it.” 

Holding up a finger, he pulls his phone out of his pocket, dialing the first number on his speed dial. 

You’re hardly asleep, sitting up in bed waiting for him with a case file in your lap, when you get the call. You’re not sure who’s listening, so a “Hey, Hotch. What’s up?” will have to do. 

“Emily knows.” 

You straighten. “How?”

“Doesn’t matter. She knows.” 

There’s a scramble, and suddenly Emily’s on the other end of the phone. “He’s got very questionable and very fresh bruises just under his collar. Care to explain?”

There’s another shuffle. 

“Ignore her,” Aaron says. With a hand pressed to your forehead, you understand the question implicit in his phone call. 

“Just tell her. It’s basically her fault, anyways. If she hadn’t ditched it then we’d have our heads up our asses for another five years.”

“Alright,” then, after a second of realizing you don’t sound sleepy at all, “Go to bed.”

“I’m in bed.” 

He rolls his eyes. Emily can only look on with amusement, gleeful in the extreme. “You know that’s not what I mean. Go to sleep.”

“Alright, alright. Fine.” You reluctantly close the casefile and put him on speaker so he can hear the light click off. “I’m going to sleep.” Then, “I love you. Come up soon.”

“Okay.” He shoots a glance at Emily. Because he’ll never hear the end of it anyway, more ammo won’t hurt at this point. “I love you too. Now, really. Go to slee -”

You hang up on him. He double-takes at his phone for a moment before shoving it back in his pocket. 

He’s met with Emily’s surprisingly moved eyes. “You’re...okay.”

What she means is, You’re happy. 

He knows. 

He nods. “I’m okay.”

She puts her files down and leans forward, resting her elbows on the table and lacing her fingers. “Tell me.” 

So, he does. 

He tells her about the way you stuck to him like glue through the divorce, the way you wiggled your way into Haley’s heart, captured the love of his son, and earned the trust of his entire family. 

He tells her what Haley said in the hospital, the tenacious care you showed his unyielding and unwilling ass when he was healing, the way your grief soothed his in the wake of Haley’s loss. 

He tells her about the moments of euphoria in the years of want and doubt and fear. 

He tells Emily about the day she died, how there was nothing more painful than that necessary lie. He tells her how easy it was to lie to the others, how it ripped him in half to lie to you. 

He tells her about the day he left for Pakistan, about the fight the night before, the kiss he pressed to your cheek on the tarmac, the endless, wretched nights missing you in the desert. 

He tells her about the fight when he finally came home, skims over the following days, jumps and meanders around to Christmas, to moving in, to the bliss that now seems to follow him wherever he goes. 

Emily watches the smile that plays at his mouth when he talks about you, the softness in his eyes as recalls the look on your face and the words you said and the way you are with Jack. There’s a kind of peace in him that she’s never really seen before. 

Maybe, she imagines, it was there before she met him (the second time). Maybe this peace existed with Haley. Maybe this is the most she’s ever heard him speak at once. Maybe it makes her smile. 

Maybe this peace is what his love looks like. 

If that’s the case, she thinks, you are very lucky indeed. 

It could have been hours, it could have been minutes, but at some point he stops talking. 

“Hotch?” 

He looks over at her, the softness lingering in his eyes. 

“I’m really happy for you.” 

His lips twitch. “Thanks.” 

“And you know it’s my God-given right to tell everyone else once this case is over, right?”

+++

You actually are asleep by the time Aaron gets back to the hotel. He leans against the wall in the dark with his hands in his pockets, enjoying the peace before the inevitable shitshow. 

He crosses the room and crouches at your side, running the back of his fingers over your cheek. You stir, sleepy noises leaving your throat as your eyes crack open. 

“Aaron?”

“Yeah. Just me.” 

You smile a little and close your eyes again. “How’d she take it?”

“Remarkably well.” He kisses your forehead. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“No,” you whine, drawn-out and slurred. “Don’t leave. Stay. I set an alarm.”

With a resigned sigh, he strips and slides into bed behind you, wrapping you in his arms and holding you close. 

+++

You and Aaron sit on proverbial pins and needles for the rest of the case, but Emily keeps her word. The only indication of her knowledge came the morning after her chat with Aaron, when she pulled you to her and hugged you so tight you could hardly breathe. 

She seizes her moment on the plane, about halfway home. 

“Derek, you owe me fifty bucks.” 

She hardly looks up from her book as she speaks. 

He takes off his headphones and wrinkles his brow. “What?”

She repeats herself, slower, as if she was speaking to a child. “You. Owe. Me. Fifty. Bucks.”

“...Why?” 

Emily finally looks up from her book to pointedly stare at you and Aaron, seated next to each other and sharing a bag of Goldfish you stole from Jack’s snack drawer. You’re both reading from the same file, absently reaching for crackers as you go along. 

Derek’s confusion continues to smother his face until it finally clicks in. 

He steals a page from Reid’s notebook and balls it up, tossing it across the plane and breaking your concentration. You look up, only a little startled, to find a face-splitting grin blinding you across the cabin.

Derek’s small ruckus has drawn the attention of the rest of the team - well, all except JJ, who’s fast asleep on the couch. 

There seems to be a collective sigh of relief as money exchanges hands. You’re not quite sure what the bet was, but Emily seems to have won handily. 

Aaron takes your hand under the table, waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

It doesn’t. 

Everyone simply returns to their tasks, little smiles on their faces. 

+++

tagging: @quillvine @agenthotchner @hurricanejjareau @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @genevievedarcygrangerwriting @ssaic-jareau @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @hotchsflower @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @dwellingsofrosie @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses @lcvischmitt @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @mandylove1000 @cevanswhre @qvid-pro-qvo @jeor @spencers-hoodrat @infinity1321 @zizzlekwum @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @this-broken-band-girl @reidtomestyles @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @winqhster @arthurmorrgans @the-falling-in-the-danger @softbibxtch @iconicc @mangoberry43 @andreasworlsboring101 @kerrswriting @mac99martin @itsalwaysb33nyou @baumarvel @kerrswriting @messyhairday-me @ssworldofsw @deagibs @crazyshannonigans @moonshinerbynight @jhiddles03 @teamhappyme @mendesmelodies @starsandasteroids @unicorn-bitch @ambicaos

[snlhostharry]

romeo and juliet thing

harry styles x reader

“rivals” to lovers au 

~3k words

warnings: cursing, mentions of sex 

my piece for @meetmeinfleetwood ‘s to lovers challenge, congrats on your milestone! 

a/n: amazing thing I realized while writing this: if you don’t put it off you can actually get it done in a reasonable amount of time... I will not be applying this to any other aspects of my life 

You’ve come to enjoy album release parties. The first one you’d ever been to was the one for your first album, something someone from your publicity team has put together, which they did a decent job on but you did not have a good time. You were so nervous about the album coming out at all that you tried to use alcohol to calm your nerves, so you can’t really remember anything about it besides briefly throwing up in the bathroom. After that incident, you resolved not to drink before the party ever again and the next few you’d been too for other artists were actually fun in their own special ways. 

By the time your second album is on the cusp on release, you’ve decided that you deserved it after the mess of writer's block you’d gotten in the middle of trying to write the thing, which had gotten so bad that you’d been called into a “special meeting” by management where they talked for what felt like hours about deadlines and marketing and basically tried to intimidate you into finishing faster. Something happened that allowed you to finish, it was an odd timing but it did help. 

But that was ages ago, and you’re trying to focus on the party. 

Which is easy enough, winding through the room talking to friends and investors, small talk is easy when you're trying to avoid something else. You’re talking to someone who’s name you are definitely not going to remember when this is over, when out of the corner of your eye you think you see someone who should definitely not be here. When you're finally released from said conversation you walk around the room, trying to find the intruder. You make your way all the way back to the bathroom, when suddenly the person you’ve been looking for slams right into you. 

You’re far enough in a corner that you think no one can see you, which is good because if anyone got photos of the two of you together you would never hear the end of it. Harry Styles looks at you like he’s been caught in the act, the guilty expression not leaving his face even as he says, “Funny seeing you here.” 

“At my own party?” You ask. 

He licks his lips, trying to buy time to think of something to say. “Before you say anything,” He says, treading cautiously, “I was told to come here.” 

You narrow your eyes, “By who?” 

“Someone who works for me,” He replies, “Which means that someone who works for you gave them the information.” 

You groan, “Of course they did, well at least make sure they get your good side when someone comes around to take photos.” 

He smiles at that, “That’s every side, love.” 

You shake your head, typing a message on your phone and quickly sending it, “It’s not but it’s cute that you think so.” 

“Ignoring that little comment,” He says, seeing that your attention is divided between him and the person you seem to be very angrily texting. “It’s a good song you wrote, I’m excited to hear the rest of the album.”

“Oh,” You say, eyes widening, “Thank you..?” He tilts his head to the side gently, clearly his way of asking a question without actually asking a question. “Sorry, I just didn’t realize we were doing the thing where we pretend this is normal, and you are normally at my party.”

He laughs, “Didn’t know there was pretending involved.” 

“I’m just so used to pretending to loathe you all day everyday that it's just so natural,” You say, and wait to see if he’ll get the joke. 

He shrugs, “Really? I don’t think of you all that much.” 

Your phone buzzes in your hand before you can respond, one message sits unread underneath the ten you’d sent a few minutes earlier in rapid succession. Honestly? I invited him because I thought it would be fun. Of course that would be her rationale for not telling you about this very obvious stunt. Inviting your “rival” to your album release party is the perfect way to get your name in some headlines conveniently before the whole thing goes live, not like you need them but then again you do pay people to manage this kind of thing so they figure they should be doing something. 

Oh yeah, Harry is supposed to be your “rival.” Think of some of the most infamous musical feuds of all time, and then knock it down a few pegs, and that’s where you would put yours and harrys. No one knows how it really started, something between a couple of twitter stans you’ve been told, but it suddenly gave each of your respective “people” the genius idea to milk that kind of exposure for all that it’s worth. The two of you have been pit against each other ever since the release of your debut albums, both self titled and both released within two weeks of each other. It hasn’t harmed either of you, being compared to the other, since you’re both pretty evenly matched in terms of talent. 

It seems to only exist to make the occasional headline when the media remember that it “exists.” There have been headlines wondering if you’ve mentioned him in tik toks (you didn’t) in instagram posts (you were shading someone but not him) and if this whole thing started due to a one night stand that went the wrong way (definitely not). 

You pull yourself back into the conversation, realizing you're being rude trying to think of something to respond to the text message. “I’m sorry, you were saying?”

“Who are you rage tweeting over there?”

“Rage texting actually,” You say as another one comes through, “Fucking Melanie.” 

“Unfortunate that her parents gave her that as a first name.”

You look up at him right away, “Not funny.” He laughs at his own joke anyway, “Melanie-” You say, holding up your phone for dramatic effect, “Is the head of the PR team, which is three people but anyway she is the one who seems to have coordinated this whole thing as a prank on me apparently.” 

“It’s kind of funny,” He says. 

You narrow your eyes at him, “I’m sure from your point of view it is.” Suddenly, someone comes rounding the corner near where the two of you are standing, and you freeze on instinct until they pass right in front of you without even looking in your direction. You realize that in a panic, you’d grabbed onto Harry’s hand and you decide that the two of you are going to have to finish this conversation somewhere else. “Come with me,” You sigh, leading him through the back of the room all the way to a small door that leads to an outside area at the back of the venue. You look at him again, his eyes glinting in the lights hanging above your heads. “What were we talking about?”

“Are you ever listening to me?” He asks, half joking. 

“Don’t take it personally I’m only half listening to everyone,” You answer, “It’s called multitasking.” 

“Seems tiring.” 

“Better than being bored,” You say.

He looks at you for a second without saying and then shoves his hands in his pockets, “Why are we out here again?” 

“I’m trying to figure out what’s the game plan here, if you’re supposed to be seen here alone, seen with me, if I’m supposed to throw some kind of tantrum about it.” 

“Besides the one your already throwing?” 

You stop looking at your phone, “Ouch.” 

“Punishment for continuing to ignore me.”

You turn off your phone and hold it in your hand gently, giving him your full attention. “I’m listening, but only if you’re going to say something that it’s some kind of thinly veiled insult,” You click your tongue, “You’re one of those guys who flirts by making fun of girls aren’t you?” 

He thinks about it, “That’s a type?” 

“Yeah, for people who are still mentally in high school.” 

“So you wouldn't be interested then?” 

You smile, thinking about it. Here’s the thing, despite the fact you very much have been pretending to loathe Harry Styles for two years just so you don’t slip it if someone asks, you recognise now that he is objectively attractive. The curls, and the eyes and the borderline too busy suit jacket he’s wearing (that both of you know costs an exorbitant amount) is all contributing to a look that is working for you at the moment. Also working in his favor? The semi enemies to lovers arc that you have going on in your head. “Despite the fact that I think that kind of flirting is beneath you, at this moment, it’s currently working for me.” 

You take a step forward, closer to him, and suddenly your phone starts going off again. You check it briefly, trying very much not to ruin the moment but very cognizant of the fact that this is your party and people are going to start noticing if you're gone. You look down, see it’s not a life or death emergency and look right back at Harry. “Let me guess,” He says, “She wants you to kiss me for the cameras?”

You laugh, “No, but I’m going to do it anyway.” You kiss him, he leans in and you think that you might just seal the deal with harry styles out on this very nice patio when your phone rings again. You pull away when it’s clear that whoever it is needs you desperately, you look at the message, and groan, “Fucking Melaine.” You look towards the door and back at Harry, “Okay this is not over, but I have to go take care of stuff, so just meet me here after the whole thing is over and we will finish this thing.” 

“Really?”

“Oh yeah,” You smile, “We could be an epic novel of forbidden lovers, like Romeo and Juliet without the ending.” You pause, “Well maybe with the end if Melanie kills me with her bare hands for not talking to this producer she wants me to meet.” 

“Later, then.” 

You take him back to your apartment that night. And you invite him back the next day, and then the week and then a few more times after that. As much as you had meant it a joke at the time, the kind of forbidden lovers aspect of trying to keep this whole thing under wraps is sexy in a way that you would never admit outloud. 

You’ve both become shockingly adept at sneaking in and out of apartments, neighborhoods (Harry has multiple priorities; why that is you're not exactly sure) and sometimes clubs if you're in a group and it’s dark enough that you think no one will see you. 

“Should I climb up through the window?” You ask Harry as you stand in the backyard of his house in London,  swimsuit clad even though you’ve gone nowhere near the pool. 

Harry looks at you from his place on the ground next to you. He’d refused to get a chirhair to sit on, so he just sits on the ground, looking out over the pool and the fence. “Why would you do that?” 

“Romeo and Juliet thing, didn’t he climb through the window to see her?”

He shrugs, wrapping his arms around your bare legs in some attempt to keep your attention on him, “I don’t know, never read it.” He laughs a little, “But I think if you did that some pap would catch you with your ass hanging out of my window.” 

You laugh too, “And you would never fucking stop laughing at that.” 

“No, I would not.” 

You kick your leg out so that you almost hit him right in the face, “Fucker, I thought you were over being mean to me as a tactic. You have successfully romanced me.” 

“Really? Because you’re staring at the house like you’re going to kill me for my money.” 

“You’d put me in your will? That’s sweet,” You turn to him, pulling your sunglasses onto the top of your head. 

“You are so hot right now.”

“It is hot,” You say, looking out at the clear sky, “What an observation.” 

“You’re screwing with me.” 

“Because I’m too tired to screw you at the moment,” You say, “Can’t we just enjoy one day in one of your two properties out in the sun before you start making me exercise?” 

“I wouldn’t call it that.” 

“It is work,” You say, rolling your eyes. “I’ve been thinking about that song you played yesterday, I think it needs to be less.. Ethereal.” 

“What does that mean?” 

You sit down next to him, laying your head in the grass. “Harry Styles is a rockstar, if you’re going to do a sad song, which seems to be your specialty, it needs to at least have a beat.” 

“People don’t want to dance to sad songs.” 

“Dude,” You say matter of factly, “Of course they do, I do and I think I speak for a very large section of the United States population.You need a sad song you can at the very least scream too, if not full out dance.” 

“So what’s your suggestion?” He asks. 

“Add more guitar,” You tell him, “Like a lot more. Take all the lyrics you have and put them on a track that sounds like it should be about your new puppy or something.” 

“Who writes songs about puppies?” 

“It was an example, H.” You sigh, “but you get the point.” 

“I’ll think about it.” 

“Don’t be like that.” He doesn’t say anything for a while, and you let it go as one of his moods for a while. But it goes on for longer than you thought it would be, and eventually you sit up. He’s staring down at his phone, frozen, and then he starts typing without saying anything to you. “What are you looking at?” You ask him, and he doesn’t say anything. “What is it H?” You ask again. 

“Fuck it all,” He says, dropping his phone to the ground, and covering his face with his hands as he laid down with his head in the grass. 

You pick his phone up off the ground and see that he’s opened twitter. Staring right back at you is a picture of the two of you kissing outside a small restaurant from the night before, you rack your brain trying to think if you saw anywhere when you were there and you swore you didn’t. Like it or not, everyone is going to know about the two of you now, including Melanie who had told you not to interact with Harry after the party expressly. “Shit,” You say, and your phone begins to ring the sound of Temporary Fix filling the small backyard. 

“Fucking Melanie,” Harry says, still lying on the ground, “She’s going to ream me.” 

“Well at least she’ll do it to both of us,” You groan, not even bothering to go and get your phone. You stand up, as a tension headache begins to form in your temples, “Well I’m going to get into the pool.” 

“Now?” He asks you. “Seems like the perfect way to avoid this problem, doesn’t it?” 

He also gets to his feet, and takes your hand, “Yeah it does.” 

And together the two of you jump into the pool. 

It’s an hour before you finally call Melanie back, even though you meant to avoid it for at least another hour. You sit at the kitchen counter while Harry takes a call in another room, dreading this call because you do not want to hear her yell at you for nothing, mostly because you're a grown woman and are above being lectured. 

“Were you just not going to tell me about this?” 

“Yes, that was the plan.” 

“I told you not to-”

“Yeah but I had already made plans by then that I couldn’t cancel.” 

“There was one man in the entire world, who you couldn’t fuck-”

“I know, what are the odds?” 

“Could you please stop fucking with me for one second?” She says, “This is serious.” 

“It’s not that bad, for you I mean.” You shrug, “I mean for me my personal business is all out on the internet now and I’ll be permanently known as one of Harry Styles’ girlfriends but for you what’s better press wise than a good ol enemies to lovers arc? I won’t tell anyone the enemies part wasn’t real if you won’t.” 

You hear her sigh from the other end of the phone, and then tap her nails against the desk. “You might be onto something there.” 

“I’m always onto something Melanie, I’m the artist here aren’t I?” And you hang up, before you say something that you’ll regret. You’d meant what you said, you were mostly just uncomfortable with everyone knowing who you're dating, especially the harry twitter stans who are known for being very excitable to say the least, you could see why they liked him so much but you would be lying if you said they didn’t scare you. You think of all the interviews you’ll do in the future where people will ask about him, about your relationship and maybe about how it ended. 

Harry comes back into the kitchen and grabs two beers from the fridge. He opens both and sets one out in front of you. “How did it go?” 

“Fine,” You say. You look at him, “Is this the part where we break up because you can’t be seen with me?” You put your face into the counter and let out another groan. 

“Never,” He says, taking a drink, “No one else I would rather weather this shit-storm with.” 

You smile, “Same here.” 

[secondhand-trash]

Heart Knot

A/N: this is in honor of the whole 30 minutes in which I knew how to knit because I was bored at a school function and forced my friend who brought an unfinished scarf with her to teach me lmao

Description: You did not have much happy memories regarding both knitting and your past crushes, but the boy that had your heart now just so happened to be a great knitter. 

Pairing: Kita Shinsuke x reader

Word count: 7827

Playlist:

Permanence//Bears In Trees

The Way You Look Tonight//Frank Sinatra

Hiding Tonight//Alex Turner

-

Kita Shinsuke’s first exposure to the art of knitting was through his grandmother, who taught her grandson the ways you could weave anything into something from doing each repetitive action properly and with care.

Something beautiful, something soft, something that could bring warmth to someone else on a harsh winter morning.

Winter in Hyogo could be rough, with inches and inches of snow blocking the road from down the mountains and into the towns. Kita Shinsuke spent his winter days away from school still waking up at the first ray of sunshine beaming through the paper window, his body glued down on the sweet comfort of his futon but still, he never overslept even as other kids his age would protest just for a few extra seconds in the warmth. 

By the time he was done with the daily chores, it would already be way into the afternoon and his tiny hands, soaked in water to wet the towels, would be shaking under the cold. Grandma Yumie always brought out the kotatsu in times like this. “It is a luxury,” she said with a chuckle as her grandson watched in awe at how the tiny round table in the living room had now been transformed into a warm cave, shielding the winter cold out with the blanket draping down the sides, “a reward for those who worked hard in the cold.”

The days he spent with his grandmother was some of his fondest memories, to the point where years later, even as he was old enough to have his own house with paper windows and a round table perfect for being turned into a kotatsu, he still insisted that there weren’t any feeling better than laying under the warm blankets after a hard day at work with the tv playing and a cup of warm tea in his hand.

When he was small, very small, with his fingers still a bit clumsy and not quite able to aim at the little loops held together by the yarn, Kita would sit there and watched as grandma Yumie brought out the baskets and baskets of colourful yarn, all sorts of sizes and patterns, and let him pick which one she should use that day. The afternoon news was playing in the background, and baby Kita had his palms holding on the warm mug of tea that was far more diluted and with way more honey drizzled into it than the one sitting in front of the older woman. His golden eyes all round and focused on the needles going in and out of the woolen piece that grew longer and longer with each flick of her wrist.

He could not figure out what had happened in the quiet hours where he just stared, not yet worked out the way each loop and thread came together in holding everything together, but all he knew was that the scarfs grandma gave him were always the softest and warmest, and comes in all the colours that lighted up the roads of Hyogo that were covered in white.

Kita learnt how to knit when he was old enough to remember the sequence at which the needle thread through the yarn. One hook under the open loop, the other holding it still, before pulling it out and putting the neat knot in place. He started with the thickest needle and the yarn that showed every knot and pattern clearly, before slowly moving to thinner threads and fancier ways of knitting. Now, winter afternoon at the Kita household consisted of grandmother and grandson sitting side by side around the kotatsu, the afternoon programs playing softly at the background as the sounds of yarns brushing against each thread filled the air.

There had never been a single cast out of place in whatever he made, whether it be a scarf or a pair of socks or a little hat for the puppy next doors. Because knitting was about patience, the knowing that you just had to keep repeating and repeating to make sure everything holds together, until you eventually had something good in your hands. It was feeling the tiny bumps under your finger once you had the finished product laid out in front of you, knowing that you put time and care into every single one of them.

Grandma Yumie complimented her grandson on everything he had ever made, smiling until her eyes were just two thin curves as she watched the boy who wasn’t so tiny anymore with his golden eyes fixed on the needle going in and out of each loop, the knitted fabric growing longer with each flick of his wrist.

-

You could not knit to save a life.

But you had tried, you really did. 

Once, when you were 12 and sitting in art class, your eyes beaming at the many balls of yarn your teacher had brought in.

“Today, we’re going to learn how to knit!” The teacher, with pins all over her apron and a book of stickers for the kids who did well poking out of its pocket, said as she placed the plastic box on the table, “By the end of class, you can all bring home something you made to give to your parents!”

You liked art class. It was fun being able to play around with crafts supplies under the disguise of early creativity development, and the things you brought home were always somewhere around the house.

You liked the way you could walk past something you had made and know that it was good enough to be put up, and liked the feeling of showing people the things you were proud of.

You picked out your colours carefully, imaging the way your father would have fitted a dark brown scarf into his work clothes or how mom could have used something in that lovely cream coloured yarn that was ignored by the other kids who went straight for the blues and yellows. You ended up with balls of grey in your arms as you made way back to your seat, thinking that it would go well with, well, everything.

You did not quite remember how you felt about the knitting process itself, all you knew was the excitement budding up in your chest as you just kept repeating and repeating, until the grey bundle of yarn got smaller and smaller.

You knew you could make something they would like, you just knew it.

The outcome of the hour and a half where you did nothing but fidget with yarn and needle was a subtly misformed scarf, a bit crooked at the edges because you forgot how to tie up the piece by the time it was long enough to be thrown around your shoulders and back. It wasn’t exactly the most intricate piece of knitwear, with small ends of the thick thread clumsily tugged back within the grids and some places missing a loop or two. 

But still, it held together nicely with the softest texture, and you were proud of yourself.

Your parents took the gift graciously when you presented it to them like you were handing them something of the uttermost value, complimenting you on your hard work and thought as they felt the piece in their hand. You made your father promised to wear it out the next day and he complied with a grin as he threw the scarf around his neck.

Now that you looked back on it, it was definitely not something a proper adult would prefer to be seen in in the public since it was rather... wonky, to put it lightly.

But you were small, and you did not have any idea that even though you tried what you thought was your best, sometimes your best was just not enough.

Oh, the way you froze when your father handed the pile of loose yarn to you that was all bundled up with a worried stare, your throat tight while you used all the might in you to suppress the urge to let the tears just fall.

You soon learned that loose ends and hasty stitches meant that even the slightest tug would make the whole thing crumble, and hours of your dedication was not a match to even the most accidental pull at the widened hole where you tried to hide all the mistakes you made.

You told yourself you were never knitting ever again at age 11, with your face buried in your pillow at the late nights when you didn’t have to fear letting anyone know that you were crying over a few balls of yarn.

At age 15, you had your first real, serious crush, the kind that made the pitch of your voice go higher unconsciously and the corner of your lips tug up just at a passing thought. Your crush was popular, the type of boys that spoke each word loud and clear like they had endless energy. You thought he was dazzlingly good-looking, even though he still had a bit of the awkwardness of being mid-puberty left in the soft arc of his brows and loop-sided grin. He was the captain of the football team, always the first to dash out the classroom with a dusty ball in his arms during break. You spent a good amount of your recesses just looking out of the window with your elbows propping you up against the frame, pretending to listen to whatever your friends were saying when you were looking at him instead.

Occasionally, he would look up from the field as he jogged backwards, and your heart always skipped a bit at the possibility that maybe his gaze had stopped at you for even just a second.

Holiday season rolled around the corner as you looked out one morning to see dots of white landing on the glass, each speckle of the snowflake clearly visible as it plastered on the window, the one you always pretend to not be looking too longingly out of while doing exactly just that. The nearer your last day of school before winter break was, the more you felt the knot twisting and turning in your stomach at the thought of whether you should try and disguise all that feeling into what could be as simple as a normal holiday greeting, between normal classmates.

It was at a passing that you overheard your crush telling the group of people who were crowding around his table during one lunch break that he thought it was attractive when people hand out handmade gifts, earning a round of high-pitched responses from those who were smiling a bit too widely for it to be natural around him, each one of them claiming that then they would try to make something for him.

You shifted in your seat, pretending that you were just napping on your desk casually instead of pitifully eavesdropping on a conversation you both wished you were part of and was absolutely detested by.

You had long decided that you could not even pretend that you were crafty by any means, but sadly, you were also young and very much so head-over-heels in love with a boy who just announced to everyone who was, like you, trying hard to impress him that he basically preferred people who make their own presents.

So that was how you found your way back to the knitting needle that you had not touched since 4 years ago, after how every single trashy article in every single teen magazine that you, at age 15, read an unhealthy amount of, told you that there was no better present to give that would portray the amount of thought and care you were willing to put into something like a garment that was hand knitted with only the receiver in thought.

It should be quite clear that the editors of those articles were just too lazy to come up with something new and picked the safest, most conventional option to put in there, but you were too desperate to find something you too could do that you didn’t care.

You left school each day in complete darkness now that the sun was long gone in the middle of the day as the end of the year approached, and spent the little free time you had to yourself at home struggling to knit. Your hands were a lot more in control compared to the last time you knitted, but the lack of guidance in every step of the way as you relearnt how to knit all from the very beginning.

It was cold, and your fingers were already hurting from the chill, but it did not stop you from staying up each night trying to get the piece done before it was finally the holidays.

You had spent hours looking for tutorials only, always battling between the knowledge that your skill was not enough to replicate a good half of the videos you had bookmarked and thinking that the easy ones were too basic for you to gift to someone. You settled on a neck warmer, something you could imagine the boy you so pined after wearing while running on the court. And as you held the finished piece up under the light, you were proud of yourself for actually carrying through.

There were no messy threads in the scarf this time, and you were sure this was something that could at least be of use to whoever got it.

The day when you were supposed to gather the courage to hand out the present came sooner than you were ready for. You came back to school early that day, knowing that your crush was usually having morning practice at the hour and no one else would be around. 

To your surprise, there was already another neatly wrapped box inside of his desk drawer by the time you got back. Its tag was hanging out of the tray rather deliberately, like a sly wink and a wave. Your chest tightened that someone was already one step ahead of you, but quickly fed yourself the narrative that it was actually better this way. This way, your gift would not stand out and seemed like it did not belong there. 

It was just a scarf, but the little paper bag that you spent an embarrassingly long amount of time decorating the night before felt so heavy in your hands as you stared blankly at it, the nerves settling in your stomach as your throat tightened at the last minute conflict.

The loud footsteps that neared broke you out of your trance, and you threw the gift bag into your drawer before pretending like you were doing something else. You cursed inwardly when you saw that it was the last person you wished to see at this moment, a rare sentiment given how your eyes usually search for him in a crowd.

The group of boys didn’t seem to pay you much mind as they huffed, laughing at something you did not catch on to as they threw their bags down. You masked the pounding of your chest with a violent stroke of your highlighter against the notebook that opened up hastily in front of you when you heard them going near the table you had been eyeing all morning.

“Huh? What is this?” 

You buried your nose in your book, but glanced at the few boys gathering around the desk from the corner of your eyes. 

Your heart wrenched when you heard one of the boys snorted, before shoving the box into your crush’s chest. “It’s for you.”

The sharp tear made your scalp tingle, but you fought back the urge to sit up straighter in reflex.

Couldn’t let them know you were listening, couldn’t let them know you cared.

“Ah... it’s a scarf,” even in your most delusional mind, there was no way you could ignore the slight hint of annoyance at his voice. 

“Hm, they said they made it themselves.”

The density of the air around you was a stark comparison to the boys’ howling and laughing that followed. The recipient of the gift only shoved the garment into the box roughly before plopping the lid back on.

“So?” one of his friends asked, snickering, “what are you going to do about it?”

The click of his tongue that followed twisted around your throat until all the blood rushed up to your face, burning and suffocating you. “Do you want it?”

“Hell no, why would I want a re-gift?” The other boy yelled with a holler, “why don’t you just keep it yourself  

“Well, I can’t wear it, can I? It’s gonna give them the wrong idea.” The nonchalant way he so easily brushed off the undoubted hours and hours of effort whoever made the gift must have dedicated to the present that was now pushed to the very back of his drawer felt foreign to you. A pang of bitterness welled up in your mouth, running your tongue dry as your mind go blank. 

“Besides, don’t you think getting something handknitted from someone you aren’t with is a bit too suffocating?”

The gift bag in your drawer remained to stay right where it was when other people started rushing into the room, when the class bell rang, when the same boy who you now realised wasn’t as nice as you thought he might be rushed out with the same smile he had on when he came in that morning. 

You shoved it into your bag first thing when you were getting ready to leave, hoping that no one would catch on.

You were surprisingly serene when you tore into hours and hours of effort until it was just a bundle of yarn on the floor.

You were age 15, swearing that you were never doing crushes ever again and finally decided with determination that knitting was just not for you

-

But life has its ways of making you think twice about every promise you had made to yourself.

First in the form of a snowfall you had not expected, and then with a boy who was always prepared for the cold.

Waking up early in the mornings just to tread yourself through the chilly streets sucked, but having to rush out because the initial “5 minutes more” you told yourself as you pulled the futon over your head once more turned into you having to rush out the door with your coat barely even worn properly in the matter of a flutter of your eyes. 

Your mouth was dry and your stomach empty from skipping past the breakfast that had already gone cold on the table by the time you passed it by. It wasn’t until you felt the pain tearing at your skin from the few bits of your body exposed to the specks of snow flowing down onto the back of your hand, so cold that it felt almost like a burn when the feeling settled, that you remembered the mittens you had also left at the side of your dresser. 

Great, just wonderful.

Winter in Hyogo was forgiving on some days, brutal and mocking on the others. The grey clouds were thick and gloomy as you dashed down the road, pulling the collar of your jacket up desperately to shield your face from the wind that you were up against face first, slicing down like blades before you finally made the last turn into the comforting walls of your school building. Your face felt numb of any senses even as you brought your palm up to try and give it some warmth, only to hiss into your hand when the frosted tips of your fingers brushed against your skin.

The bell rang almost right on cue as you stepped into the classroom, letting out a sigh and salvaging in the temporary supply of warmth from your own breath. Your lips were so dry and so chapped from the cold, even just darting your tongue out to swipe over the rough edges had it almost tearing at the thin skin. You winced at the pain, which did not serve you anything other than making the ache worse.

You sighed as you sunk down on your chair, finally able to let your limbs go slack at your sides after being so tense all the way through your walk. The sudden release of the tension you had been holding on you resulted in a broken inhale as you tried to calm the beating dee under the many layers you were wearing, feeling as if you were suffocated in your core with the heat trapped in and only within the center of your body.

“Are you alright?”

Turning to your side was a struggle as you shrugged off the stiff coat you were wearing. You were sure you looked nothing short of ridiculous as the puffer jacket hung loosely around your arms, your arms extended awkwardly to hold it from sliding off the ground. Your state of being was a stark contrast to the boy who was sitting next to you, his back all straight and proper. 

You did not really think much about Kita Shinsuke, even though he had been sitting next to you for almost half a year now. There was something distant about him, like he was in a whole world of his own while everyone else just circulated around. He was always polite, never slipped up, getting back earlier than most and arrived at each function punctually. Your image of him was that he was always paying attention in class while everyone else was drooling off, his voice loud but calm when he was suddenly called to read out whatever passage you were supposed to have read at home but obviously didn’t.

It was strange, you were almost distancing yourself from him despite physically being next to him at all times.

He just didn’t seem so real, didn’t feel very human to you.

“Are you alright?” Kita asked again, this time tilting his head a little seeing that you were looking ahead blankly instead of responding.

You snapped out of your trance, quickly yanking off your jacket to place it on your lap in what you hoped was a swift motion to save the embarrassment of acting like a socially numb idiot.

“Oh, I’m fine,” you smiled, shoving your hands under your coat to try and warm up the fingers you still couldn’t feel under the fleece, “thank you for asking.” You added, almost like a second thought as you grew more and more uneased by his seemingly doubtful gaze.

Kita’s eyes went to your hair that was still not yet tidied up from being tangled up by the wind, the dots of water on your coat that was no doubt left from the snow, and your hands that were now rubbing together again and again under the coat according to his guess.

His brows furrowed at the way you were folding yourself smaller and smaller, pulling the heavy jacket that was about to slip off your lap up against your body desperately.

There was a rush of shiver to your spine at the way he pursed his lips together, and you gulped as subtly as you could while trying to maintain the smile on your face. 

There was a speckle, a tiny bud of warmth setting off in your stomach when he turned around and slipped his hands into his jacket, hung neatly at the back of his chair unlike yours, and took out a small packet. It was a white fabric pocket but you could see the black powder inside from the thin fabric. 

You did not react when he held his hand out, slender fingers holding on the hand warmer mid-air as he waited for you to take it from him. You blinked at the boy who you had never really looked at properly until now, and felt a strange twist in your stomach at the notice that there was a slight flush on his face from the cold, dusting over his cheeks and leading your gaze to his eyes that were looking at you patiently.

He must have thought that you were so strange, you grimaced to yourself when the pang of guilt rushed to your face and burning to the tip of your ears at the remembrance that you had assumed him to be the strange one when you were being so disrespectful right now.

You held out both hands in front of him, looking like a child when he dropped the little bag in your hand. Nothing could stop the sigh from slipping out of your lips when you felt the heat it was emitting, landing on your fingertips like coal in the snow and seeping into your skin.

The warmth travelled from your skin down to your veins, running slowly and slowly until it settled down as a fuzzy tingle in your chest at the thought that it was so warm because he had been the one keeping it in his pocket, likely trapping the heat within his palms when he was holding the warmer himself.

“Thank you Kita kun...” you said appreciatively, swallowing the whine that was threatening to come out with the last note of your voice when you felt your senses slowly returning to you.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, and your heart skipped a beat when he leaned his chin on his palm and gave you a tiny smile, “you should keep it, my hands don’t get cold that easily and I brought mittens.”

You did not speak to him again that day as class started and he, like the good student you never were, put his attention back to things that were more worthwhile. But you could not help but listen carefully for the first time ever when he was once again called to read out the lengthy piece of literature you didn’t study, and feeling a burst of exciting, nerve-wracking warmth budding in your chest.

-

At age 15, you promised yourself you were not doing crushes over dumb teenage boys again. At age 17, you realised that the pang in your chest when Kita Shinsuke replied to your greeting each morning (one that you tried hard to make it sound as casual as one could get, if you may add) with a smile was the same as that when you imagined your old crushed looking up from the ball court to lock gazes with you. 

But Kita was not a dumb teenage boy, he was nice and well-mannered and asked you if you were alright on a winter day. So you told yourself you did not exactly break your promise, even though there was a lingering fear at the knowing that there too was a time when you thought the boy who sneered at the carefully wrapped box on his desk was nice and beaming like the sun.

(You had, however, screamed into your pillow in frustration the day he told you they made him the captain of the volleyball team for the next year when you carefully suggested that he seemed happier than usual. “Captains,” you groaned into your make-shift punching bag, “why are they always captains?”)

Winter passed, and then it was spring. Spring was the time for a new start, but you were not excited about changes. You had been content with a simple “good morning” every day made possible by the convenience of your adjacent tables, but how were you supposed to conceal your yearning for a smile and a nonchalant word of care as nothing out of place if you had to go out your way just to even catch a glimpse at him?　

You had to force yourself, clamp your lips tight together to stop the pitiful squeal that was close to bursting out from the back of your throat when you saw the familiar kanji, the same one as the direction always pointing people forward and the brightest star hanging on the sky, at the “ki” column of the class list. 

Your third and last year and still in the same class, this was a sign, this had got to be a sign.

The anticipation was hard to conceal as you paced down the hallway until stopping at the sign of “3-7″ above the door. The embarrassment immediately followed the initial rush of glee at the boy who was, as expected already there. He was sitting at the first seat at the row leaning by the wall and even though your heart died a little at the conflict that you could not slack in class with the whoever it was standing in front of the blackboard so close to you, you still walked closer to the table right behind his with carefully controlled steps.

“Good morning Kita kun,” you said, still fumbling to find a balanced tone between letting him know you were happy to see him but not too much, glad that you were in the same class but not in a creepy way, hoping that he also searched for your name the way you looked for his but not holding out too much for it.

your throat tightened when he smiled back at you, “Good morning, (y/l/n) san.”

“You are early,” you blurted out, praying that it wasn’t too sudden.

“Yes, I had to stop by the club room to prepare for the upcoming tryouts before coming back.” He had turned around to face you completely, and you searched for everything your brain could come up with to keep the conversation going.

“Oh right, you are the captain now,” you cursed yourself for stating something so obvious in your brain, absolutely loathing air-headed your own voice sounded in your head. You breathed in, mastering your courage to appear confident and charming, “I hope it’s alright if I sit here behind you?”

You were smiling, but your knuckles were hurting from how hard you had to grip at the handle of your bag just to hold yourself back from fidgeting. The chair was already half pulled-out, and you crouched down just slightly as you waited for a response.

You knew you were the one who asked, but what if he said no?

But he didn’t, and not even the fear of appearing like a fool in front of the boy you so wanted to impress could stop you from grinning ear to ear when he laughed. You didn’t think you had heard Kita laugh before. It was an addicting sound, crisp like bells and like the pink petals that were falling off the trees all around campus. 

You knew at that moment you didn’t care if this crush was just as dumb as the last one, or that you might end up looking like a fool for going against what you had so sternly told yourself when you were 15.

Screw 15 year old you, they knew nothing.

“Of course.”

-

Then winter rolled by the corner, as an angry current sweeping the dried leaves off the road and the temperature dropping and dropping until you were taking out your heavy coat from the back of your closet again.

It was with great regret and exasperation that you found out, one year after starting to learn more about Kita Shinsuke, that he was brilliant and absolutely so passionate about knitting.

The way you had a whole storm brewing in your head over something as simple as getting back to your classroom after lunch break to see a very calm, serene Kita at his table, with a ball of yarn on his lap and two needles threading with each other in his hand, was an absolute joke. You had tried to form an interest in volleyball just to have more chances to talk to him, going as far as to sit through the hour long practices matches that Inarizaki always had with other schools at the far back corner of the gym just to have something to bring up in a passing the next day. But of all the things, of all the things this person who seemed to be good at everything liked, it has got to be the one thing that you associated with nothing but bad memories.

“What are you making?” you asked, holding back the screaming thoughts in your head as you slid down into your own seat and leaned forward.

The little glimmer of joy in his eyes was hard to miss, and you were not sure if you want to feel triumphant for finding a new excuse to talk to him or cry because you had not looked at a knitting needle in years.

“I’m knitting socks,” he said and held up the tunnel of knitted fabric dangling off his needles, “it’s almost Christmas, and I wanted to make something practical for my teammates.” 

“Hm?” You nodded, urging him to go on as if your own scalp was not frying from the recoil of what happened the last few times you wanted to make something practical for someone.

“This is for Akagi from class 6,” he immediately added, thinking about how you might not know who Akagi from class 6 was, “he had been complaining about having cold feet at morning practices lately.”

(You did, in fact, know who Akagi from class 6 was, but decided to let him give you the information instead of exposing how much attention you paid to the Inarizaki Volleyball Club.)

Man, you had never wished you knew how to knit as much you do now.

“Can you teach me how to knit?”

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck-

You froze at the words that went straight through your brain to your mouth and vocalised in the quiet classroom. 

“There’s something I want to make,” you gulped, stumbling to force a smile onto your face, “for someone.”

Someone as in, well, him.

You had already braced yourself to chuckle it off when he said that he was busy, or just some sort of well-intended reasoning that would all point to the immediate  conclusion in your head that you were just overstepping boundaries as no one but another classmate who just happened to sit near him for the past year.

But the screaming in your head stopped, leaving your world in absolute silence when he placed the ball of yarn onto his table and pulled another ball out from his bag.

“Sure.”

-

You did not notice, which was strange because you were usually the first to overthink on each of his miniatures, that Kita Shinsuke nearly dropped the needles in his hand when you quickly, in the middle of your inner panicking, suggested that there was someone you wanted to knit for.

He wavered for a brief moment, wondering if he really wanted to teach you how to knit for someone else, before feeling a sour guilt that he was being a bad friend by hesitating to help you when you asked.

He wondered who it was that you wanted to make something for, he thought to himself as he handed you the spare pair of needles he had.

Must be someone important to you.

-

So every day until you eventually go on break for Christmas and the new years, you would go back to your classroom early during lunch period to learn how to knit from Kita Shinsuke, who was coincidentally who the eventually finished piece that you hope you would finish was meant for.

You went into this with no thought other than to suck up on your own impulsiveness and just milked what had become of it as much as you could, trying to fish the opportunity of spending extra time with him. You were not even sure if you would actually give him the finished piece if there would be any, you were not sure if you were prepared to go down the progress of determination turned hesitation turned eventual heartbreak that last time you had to muster up any courage just to gift something to another person.

Even though this was all an excuse for you to talk to Kita, there was no denying that the 3 years in which you avoided knitting only made your hands even clumsier than before. He was always patient, always stopping his hands with whatever sock or hat or glove he was making to take a look at what would hopefully become an intact piece of knitwork dangling off of your needles.

“Let me see.”

The soft hum from his nasal every time you called for his assistant was enough to have you weak, and you were so glad that he put all his focus on helping you because then he wouldn’t notice you staring at him rather shamelessly.

On days when the weather was good, it was as if his eyes were the winter sun, the same one that was spilling in through the windows and casting a soft halo around him, all while his brows contorted in concentration over your work.

It turned out that Kita Shinsuke was great at teaching, and while much slower than him, you eventually managed to sit in comfort silent with him in the tender winter afternoons of Hyogo and let the sounds of thread pulling filled the air. You were trying but he was a natural, even though he claimed that it was just a direct result from years, a decade of practicing.

In the time you had struggled to focus on one piece, you had seen Kita worked on a multitude of things you were sure you should not even attempt to make. There was a nice thick pair of gloves for Ojiro, the trusty spiker who was feeling bothered by his dry hands from cold water. Another pair of gloves but this time fingerless because, to quote Kita, Suna Rintarou probably wouldn’t wear anything that kept him away from his lovely touch screen. You saw woollen hats twice but in different colours, and he had explained that he thought of making something different for the ruckus twin boys but figured they would just get into yet another fight over who gets what.

Crush aside, you wished you had a slither of his skills.

“I think anyone can be good at knitting,” he said, handing you back the row of maroon casts you had asked him to check up on with an approving nod. His fingertips just barely brushed against yours as he let go of the needles, sending shivers up your forearm that you were so glad was covered by your cardigan.

You laughed, brushing your finger at the few spots that you struggled to get right on the pattern, “I doubt.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?” he said, pointing towards the casts that got neater and neater as you progressed visibly, “you are already getting better.”

You pursed your lips, toying with the unfinished hem.

You had learnt a long time ago that sometimes you tried your best, but the best was not always enough. Sometimes, the best would get you a huff and a complaint that your heart and soul was too heavy, too suffocating. Sometimes the more and more you put into something meant that you did not know where to put it anymore once you tore it apart after no longer having someone to give it too, but it was too much to shove back into the hole in your heart.

You wondered if your best or your “better” was enough this time.

“Kita kun.”

“Hm?” he hummed, like how he always did when you look up at him from your hands. But you did not look at him this time, twirling the loose end of the yarn in your index finger instead.

“Do you think getting something handknitted from someone you aren’t with is suffocating?”

Kita frowned at the sad smile that was on your lips. You were looking at what he assumed would be a scarf from the casting and the patterns, rubbing at the slightly crooked cable. Were you thinking of the person you want to give it to? Were you worried that they wouldn’t like it? He had made himself stop speculating who it was that made you get back early each day and struggle so clearly with something you didn’t seem to exactly enjoy just to make something thoughtful for them, but he couldn’t stop the bitterness from welling up that it was someone who made you worry over them finding you suffocating.

He wanted to tell you that anyone who thought so was not someone who deserved your time, but swallowed it down anyways.

“No,” he said, and you finally looked up at him, “I think it is rude to think that of someone who put effort into doing anything with me in mind.”

And there it was again, the same warmth that tingled until it was all you could feel. Like a hand warmer, like a simple hello in the mornings, like the winter sun that was shining on you.

Right.

You smiled, a genuine one this time.

Because Kita Shinsuke was not just some dumb crush, because he wasn’t like the boy who never really did look up to see you, because you were ok with breaking every single promise you had made to shield yourself off just for a chance with him.

He seemed confused at your sudden change of mood, but you only shook your head and picked up the knitting needles again.

“You’re right.”

-

To say that everyone was hyped for winter break was an understatement.

But you, you were just really nervous.

You greeted Kita when you came back in the morning as usual, feeling the nerve bundling up in your stomach already just from knowing that if this went badly, you could not bear it to pretend to still be his friend from then on. Classes did not pique your interest in the slightest, and the only time you even diverted your gaze upwards from the book you were staring at blankly was when Kita’s voice rang in the classroom, blocking the blackboard from your view as he stood up to answer some question you did not know the answer to.

He looked warm, you remarked to yourself as your eyes scanned through the grey vest he was wearing.

Did he make it himself? Maybe you should ask him for a tutorial later.

And then you remembered that it was the last day before break, and your knitting sessions with him was already over. Your scarf was finished, he even complimented you on it. (“I’m sure whoever got this will be very pleased,” he had said, and you were just praying to whatever entity you could think of that he would still think so when you give it to him) It wouldn’t make sense for you to go to him anymore, and it would be awkward for both of you if he knew that you were only learning how to knit to be around him.

Your hands were so cold, nearly in pain as you grip on the box that you had been hiding in your bag all day long. You backed out of giving it to him during lunch when no one else was around, deciding that you would rather not stare at his back for another few hours after basically exposing yourself. But the day was about to come to an end. The winter sun was always gone early, and the sky was lit up in shades of orange and red as students rushed home for the start of their break.

You sucked in a deep breath when you saw him packing up his things after the end-of-class bell rang.

“Kita kun?”

“Yes?”

All you could hear was the beating in your ears and the hilt of what was a steady rhythm when he turned to look at you. His voice still made you melt, and heat spread on your face like the fiery cloud hanging on the sky from the setting sun.

Warm, bright, beautiful.

“This is for you,” you tried to stop your voice from shaking as you looked into his eyes, the same ones that widened when he saw the box on your extended hands, “thank you for helping me all through last year.”

You had to remind yourself to breath as Kita took the wrapped present. “Can I open it?” he asked, his hand hovering above the ribbon.

You tried to maintain the smile on your face.

“Of course.”

Kita knew the scarf that was sitting inside the box, he could point out which cast was his doing and which ones you had asked him for help even with his eyes closed. He had wondered about what you had done with it, whether the person who got it was worth your heart and soul.

He had wished, with sincerity, that it would go well for you but there was also a selfish part of him that pondered, contemplated how it might go if he told you he would love to have that scarf.

You grimaced when he didn’t say a word, before slowly closing up the box. You had prepared yourself for this outcome, but part of you still felt a familiar sting in your chest.

Until you saw him digging into his own bag and pulling out a tiny bag. You were still dazed as he handed it to you, his fingers holding onto the handle and a smile on his face as he waited for you to take it. You reached out with both palms, before the weight of it settled in your hand.

It was a pair of gloves, soft and sturdy in your hands without a single stitch out of place. Your finger brushed against the intricate patterns at the center before stopping at the elastic hem. You could not help but slid it on, gasping in awe at how it fit perfectly.

Kita was smiling at you, and he was throwing the end of the scarf to his back when you looked up at him. The one he had worn that morning when he made way back to school under the cold was shoved into his bag and replaced by the less well-made one you had given him.

But he didn’t care, he loved it.

“Should we go?” He asked, holding his own gloved-hand out, “They are closing the school soon.”

You finally got to be mesmerised by him without having to shy away, and the way his eyes were full of you could only be matched to the sun that was setting outside, rays of what would be the last of its shine until tomorrow reflecting off the snow.

Beautiful, soft, and had your heart all warm and gooey.

“Let’s go.” You replied, grinning ear to ear, before taking his hand.

And it was so, so warm.