#i guess looking at it another way though...... i should be glad if they deliver me some fucking hope a few weeks early

[dazais-guardian-angel]

this torture we're going through with the anime must be divine karma for slandering Bones all this time...... they said "oh, you don't like how we adapt things? you say the manga does it better?? okay then, well now there is no more manga. it's Bones or bust, bitches."

[marlynnofmany]

One Peril of Package Delivery

“Do you think this floats?” Paint asked, hefting the plasticky white box that was our delivery for the day. It had a label on top but no visible seams; I wasn’t even 100% sure that it opened, much less what was inside it. We weren’t paid to know.

“It kind of looks like it should,” I said. “Let’s not drop it in the river and find out. Sure you don’t want me to carry it?” I stretched out my long human arms as we walked.

“Nope,” Paint said cheerily. “My turn.” She rested her lizardy snout on top of it, clutching the thing like an orange-scaled toddler with a toolbox made for adults. It was a cute sight. I kept that observation to myself.

A stiff breeze made me glad for my coat. This was a solid walk between the spaceship and the client’s home, and while the scenery was nice, it was a bit cool in the shadows. Properly dressed, I could appreciate the alien trees that twisted into improbable spirals of blue bark, alongside this tributary of the river full of sparkling crustaceans. The rest of the crew had split up to follow different tributaries, with different deliveries, but those were surely not as pretty as this one.

Paint didn’t shiver at the breeze, because cold-blooded lizard aliens don’t shiver. She had a small heat shawl that looked like a red bandana tied around her neck. She’d assured me that it would keep her plenty warm, since it had little heat pockets of something-or-other that would generate warmth. And with the red on top of her mottled orange scales, it made her match the kind of Painted Sunset she was named for.

We’d been walking long enough to make me regret not asking to use the hoverbike when the tributary widened out into a lake, with the client’s house smack dab in the middle. It was an artful weaving of curved wooden beams, decorated with clay mortar and narrow stripes of wildflowers planted between the beams. Not a window or door in sight.

I’d noticed before that a lot of alien species could be compared to one Earth animal or another, sometimes subtly and sometimes in very obvious ways. The clients we were delivering to today were basically civilized beavers. I found this very funny in a way I couldn’t have articulated, so I kept that to myself too.

“So, do we just yell from the shore?” Paint asked, slowing as we approached.

“I think I see stepping stones,” I told her. “Let’s get a closer look.”

As we followed the shoreline, the stepping stones came into view. They turned out to be stepping logs, planted in the mud of the lake bottom, with a platform waiting in front of the house made of the same woven beams. No garden on this one, though. Just slippery-looking moss.

Oh, and a lantern on a post that glowed like a miniature sun. If I didn’t miss my guess, the little box near the top of the pole looked like a doorbell.

“I think our drop point is over there,” I said, coming to a stop near the first stepping log.

Paint held the box more tightly. “Really? Surely they’ll hear us if we yell loudly enough.” She looked around in that jerky lizardlike way, clearly hoping for any better options.

I wasn’t happy about it either, but at least the steps were close together. The only other sign of civilization around was the sharp drop-off of water at the end of the lake — this really was a beaver lodge; they’d even made a dam.

“Are these safe?” Paint asked, poking one clawed foot at the nearest log.

“I should hope so,” I said. “I don’t know how they expect to get their deliveries otherwise.”

Paint pulled her foot back. “Can we try yelling first?”

I shrugged. “Worth a shot.”

So we both stood there and shouted like the politest of absolute maniacs, and it did no good whatsoever. Either the sound didn’t carry through walls and/or water, or the client wasn’t home. Or they didn’t care about the package. But probably they just couldn’t hear us.

“Do you want to stay on the shore?” I suggested. “My legs are longer; I can handle the steps.”

“No, I can do it.” Paint stood tall like a confident toddler with a toolbox, and stepped carefully onto the log, tail waving for balance.

“At least let me carry the box,” I said. “Pretty sure I can hold it with one arm if it’s not that heavy.”

Paint’s eyes were wide and her mouth open for nervous breathing as she looked down at the water. “Yeah, okay.”

I put a foot on the log next to her, noticing that it wobbled slightly (which was just spectacular for morale), and I cautiously took the box. When I had it, Paint turned and leapt to the next log.

It really wasn’t that heavy. It probably floated. I was not going to find out. I tucked it under one arm and followed Paint.

We made it to the platform without any major disasters. There was indeed a doorbell on the lamp post, which Paint pressed triumphantly. Then we stood on the platform and waited, with Paint holding onto the pole for support and me wondering what the inside of the house looked like. Was the client in the bathroom? What was that even like here?

I saw motion in the water first, and pointed it out moments before something the size of a Saint Bernard surfaced with a splash in front of us.

Paint yelped and stepped back, her grip on the pole the only thing keeping her from scampering off the platform entirely. I jumped too, but held my position and got one shoe wet for my troubles. I was immediately 15% colder.

“Give it already,” demanded the client, perched on the underwater structure that held the platform up. He may have been an alien beaver, but his fur was all blue stripes like a fashionable tiger, and he was definitely glaring at us.

I stood up straight. “Payment first, if you please,” I said in my best customer service voice. I really hoped that this client wasn’t going to argue about it. This was a terrible place for that kind of debate.

But the client just grumbled and rummaged in a belt pouch that I hadn’t realized he was wearing, then slapped a handful of sparkly coins onto the platform. They looked like the local currency we’d been told to expect: something made from the shells of crustaceans like the ones filling the river upstream. I had no idea if it was enough. I’d just have to hope it was.

“Thank you,” I said, handing over the package.

The client grabbed it, grunted, and disappeared with a smaller splash this time. I shot Paint a relieved glance while I pried the coins off the muddy wood. Washing them at the edge of the platform was a tempting idea, but I didn’t want to drop any, so I just rubbed the mud off as best I could and shoved them into an empty pocket. Hooray for pants with lots of those.

I rinsed my fingers in the chilly water, rubbed them dry on my pants, then turned to Paint. “Ready to go?” At her eager nod, I started across the logs, with every other step squishy and cold.

The logs were mostly stable. Mostly. All but that last one, which gave in an alarming way when I hopped across.

“Watch out for th—”

Splash.

“Paint!”

The water was deep for the shoreline, and she sank nearly to her nosetip, arms flailing in a useless way that was more instinct than thought. I reached out for one and caught it, leaning and praying to anything that would listen that I wasn’t about to fall in too. I managed to haul her out, splashing icy water everywhere.

She wasn’t moving much, stiff with cold-shock, the shawl sodden and useless. I scrambled to grab handfuls of leafy weeds to dry her scales.

Hopefully these aren’t something toxic that wasn’t in the briefing, I thought grimly. Nothing to do about it if they are.

“Turn over; I’ll dry your other side,” I directed, unfastening the shawl.

Paint moved one arm, slow as a sloth. I rolled her over onto dry ground, then did my speedy best to get most of the water off. It didn’t help. She was hunched over and staring like a cold-blooded creature in dire straits indeed.

“Okay,” I said, thinking quickly. “Let’s get you off this cold ground and give me a hug.” It took some doing, but soon I had my crewmate on my lap with my coat wrapped around her. Wow, that was cold. Like hugging an ice pack.

She moved a little, nestling close.

“Does that help?”

A tiny nod.

“Can you stand?”

Headshake.

“Okay.” I thought some more. “New plan. Do you know what a piggyback ride is?”

Of course she didn’t, but it gave me something to talk about as a distraction while I pried her away just long enough to flip my coat around with the opening in the back, and urge her to climb on.

“No one’s been able to tell me why it’s named after pigs, and not an animal we actually ride, but my guess is that there were farm kids involved,” I said as she got settled. “They’re small enough to ride a pig. Not a terribly safe choice though, depending on the pig.” I freed a hand to grab the shawl and squeeze out the water before shoving it into a different pocket. Then, before I stood, I got out my phone and called the ship.

Kavlae answered. “Hey Robin, what’s up?”

“Medical emergency,” I said. “Paint got cold.”

“Got it. How cold?”

“Fell in the river, which is frigid. Can someone grab the hovercycle and meet us with a heat blanket?”

“Already on it. Eggskin!” she yelled for the medic and ended the call.

“Hhope … fast,” Paint hissed.

“Even if they’re not,” I said as I pocketed my phone and got to my feet, “I’m about to be. Nothing raises body heat for my species like a little exercise. Let’s see if we can make that heat blanket redundant!”

I took off across the grassy shoreline, pretending I was carrying one of my baby cousins who happened to be incredibly, dangerously cold, but was warming steadily.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come!

[arcanechariot]

If you’re in the market for nsfw Oscar character ideas, you should write a head canon on how each character would eat you out. Like Steven would be tentative at first but so willing to give and anselm would be so good at it. Idk, just a thought. Love your writing!!

you're so right (this is gonna be a long one)! also i'm glad you like my stuff! 💛💛

oral/eating out hcs (afab!reader)

nsfw under the cut (duh)

i will be judging them based on the following factors:

🔥 - confidence level

😏 - enthusiasm

✋ - hand usage

👀 - eye contact

🌀 - style & technique

💬 - dirty talk

anselm vogelweide

🔥 - very confident (and rightly so). he knows how to play the part and he enjoys being the centre of attention so he uses that energy to deliver with assurance

😏 - loves it. he enjoys the power dynamics that come with giving oral, knowing he can command attention in such an intimate way. he sees it as a form of performance, a way of proving his desirability and skill despite his age. it's a way for him to prove he's in control and capable of satisfying you (even if he can't get it up)

✋ - yes, definitely. his hands are actively engaged; either gently holding your hips, holding your hands or fingering if that's what you need

👀 - enjoys making intense eye contact as it reinforces his dominance and control. he wants to see how you react, gauging your pleasure while making you feel intensely observed. it makes the moment feel more like a show, where he's both the artist and the admirer of your reactions

🌀 - methodical and sensual. his technique is precise. he builds up anticipation; teasing you with slow, drawn-out strokes before finally giving you what you want. his pace varies; starting slow and controlled, then picking up speed as the heat builds

💬 - definitely indulges in dirty talk. a mix of taunting and praising; 'you taste so sweet, little one…', 'your legs are shaking already, darling'

final judgement: one of the best

basil stitt

🔥 - insecure but earnest. he's often insecure in intimate situations and unsure about how you feel or if he's doing things 'right'. but he always gives it his all

😏 - enjoys it. earnestly passionate but anxious. he's enthusiastic but his nervous energy can sometimes make him second-guess his moves

✋ - yes, occasionally. he uses his hands to guide and hold you in place but not too forcefully

👀 - he doesn't usually maintain eye contact for long though he might glance up every so often, seeking validation. his gaze, when it happens, is soft, almost shy

🌀 - gentle and thoughtful. his approach is slow and deliberate. he enjoys the moment and wants to make it last, ensuring each motion is carefully thought out and executed with consideration for how it feels

💬 - very minimal. usually soft praise, reassurance or check-ins; 'is this okay?', 'uhh… what now?'

final judgement: he's trying okay??

blue jones

🔥 - highly confident, bordering on cocky. he enjoys having control and sees giving oral as another way to dominate and establish his power. he knows he's good and uses that to his advantage

😏 - he's willing. he likes to feel that he's wanted and in charge but honestly he prefers receiving (this is particularly true for fantasy!blue)

✋ - yes, definitely. he uses his hands to tease and control. he likes to hold your body in place, pressing you down when he wants to dominate or gently guiding you to a rhythm that suits him

👀 - he keeps eye contact to maintain control. he wants to see the effect he's having on you, using it to gauge your reactions. he's usually smirking like a bastard too. you can't see it but he is

🌀 - methodical and calculated but with a rough edge. he goes slow at first, savouring the moment and building anticipation, before picking up the pace

💬 - yes, very much so. he comments on how he owns you and how you should feel grateful for his attention; 'look at me while i do this', 'let me hear you beg for it'

final judgement: he's good but don't feed his ego too much

bud cooper

🔥 - confident (despite the fact that you had to show him where your clit was). he's one of these types who is sure he knows how to please despite knowing jackshit about female anatomy

😏 - he's willing. he's still inexperienced in this department. he doesn't fully understand what to do or how to please but he's driven by the need to keep up his tough exterior and impress. this leads to an awkward mix of enthusiasm and clumsy experimentation. (it will get better as he learns dw)

✋ - sometimes. he uses his hands clumsily, not fully understanding how to incorporate them into the act. he'll use them to hold or steady your hips but his touch isn't always as skilled or gentle as it could be. his hands often feel like an afterthought while his focus stays on using his mouth. baby steps yk?

👀 - eye contact during oral makes him feel a little unsure of himself. he'll be more focused on his own anxiety or the act itself so he avoids it most of the time

🌀 - clumsy and unsure but trying. he alternates between moments of trying to go slow and others where he's a bit too fast or rough because he's not completely sure what feels good to you

💬 - he tries but it usually comes off as awkward or clunky; 'you're lookin'…uhh…real sexy today, baby', 'fuck. umm… hang on. lemme start over'

final judgement: he wants to be good at it but you'll need to give him a biology lesson first

duke leto atreides

🔥 - highly confident. when it comes to intimacy, he treats it with the same discipline and care that he would any other part of his life

😏 - enjoys it. for him, giving oral is a way to demonstrate affection and devotion. he enjoys the intimacy and the act of satisfying you. it's an emotional connection for him

✋ - yes, sometimes. his hands are often used to caress or hold you gently (massaging your thighs or hips), guiding you into comfort and pleasure

👀 - yes. he maintains eye contact in a calm, reassuring way, showing respect and affection. he uses eye contact to establish trust and intimacy. he's a leader and he communicates without words, creating a space where you feel safe and desired

🌀 - slow, sensual and methodical. he takes his time, savouring every moment. he's precise and calculated in his movements, enjoying the intimacy of the act. he's not in a rush; he knows how to take his time and make it last

💬 - occasional, soft praise; 'you're doing so well for me', 'just relax. i'll take care of you'

final judgement: he's so good

jake lockley

🔥 - very confident. he's a man who thrives on control, dominance and power. he's used to getting what he wants and he's secure in his abilities, which extends into the bedroom. he's assertive, unapologetic and takes pride in his skills

😏 - loves it. he enjoys both the control he has during the act and the way it makes you submit to him. he's not shy about getting pleasure from it and he likes the act of taking charge

✋ - yes. he uses his hands not only to hold your body in place when you squirm but also to tease, explore and further heighten the experience. he's skilled with his hands, knowing just when and where to press, rub or stroke for maximum effect

👀 - he's not shy about locking eyes with you, especially when he wants to dominate you and assert his control. there's an underlying challenge in his gaze, almost daring you to look away

🌀 - teasing and rough. his technique is firm and confident. he's not the slow and soft type; he prefers a faster, more demanding rhythm, though he's not averse to slowing down to make the experience more intense

💬 - yes, constantly. taunting, dirty talk and praise (sometimes in spanish); 'i'm gonna make you see stars, bebé', 'spread those legs nice and wide, pequeño'

final judgement: he v good and he loves doing it. what's not to love?

jonathan levy

🔥 - insecure but trying to be confident. he wants to please but there's a vulnerability to his approach, often second-guessing himself

😏 - he's willing. his enthusiasm is driven more by the need for validation or a way to connect emotionally, rather than pure passion

✋ - sometimes. his hands are usually used when he's unsure about himself and needs a little extra control. he's not aggressive or dominant but gentle, offering soft support, guiding or stroking to complement the act

👀 - occasional but hesitant. he might look up briefly but his gaze might dart away, especially if he's feeling vulnerable or unsure

🌀 - slow and sensual. he's deliberate and careful, unsure at first, but then picking up the pace once he starts to feel more comfortable

💬 - rare but soft encouragement and/or looking for guidance; 'you're doing so good, baby', 'let me know what feels good, yeah?'

final judgement: he just needs reassurance

king john (oh no)

🔥 - reluctant. he feels uncomfortable in this position, seeing it as something he has to do rather than something he enjoys

😏 - it's a chore. he doesn't really get any satisfaction from giving oral. he might do it out of duty but he doesn't have the enthusiasm or desire that some might. he much prefers receiving and doesn't find the act exciting for himself, viewing it as something he has to do for control or to fulfil a role rather than for enjoyment

✋ - no, he tends to rely on his mouth

👀 - he usually keeps his eyes either down or closed

🌀 - methodical and clinical. he's more focused on getting it over with so his technique is more detached, almost clinical. he'll perform the task quickly and with little care for sensuality, just following through with the motions

💬 - he usually complains and whines if you don't sit directly on his face; 'do i have to?', 'is it my turn yet?'

final judgement: literally such an awful brat 😤👎 booo 🍅 🍅

laurent leclaire

🔥 - confident. he's fully aware of his power and charm, especially when it comes to your needs. he's not shy about asserting his power, knowing that his skill and the intimacy he offers is unmatched

😏 - loves it. he finds pleasure in both the act itself and the effect it has on you. it's a way for him to express his affection and dominance, all while indulging his senses

✋ - yes, often. his hands are involved, either holding your hips, guiding them to his rhythm, or teasing with his fingers alongside his mouth. he loves fingering you while eating you out and being able to feel how wet you get

👀 - yes and it's intense and intentional. he uses eye contact as a tool to both assert dominance and create intimacy. it's a way of drawing you deeper into the experience, ensuring you know you're both mentally and physically connected

🌀 - slow and sensual. he mixes slow, languid movements with bursts of intensity, adjusting to your reactions. he never rushes; he enjoys the buildup

💬 - mostly praise, occasionally taunting; 'that's it. oh, you're gorgeous…', 'so sensitive… does it really feel that good?'

final judgement: he's a slut so ofc he gives stellar head

marc spector

🔥 - confident but with a bit of a dominant edge. when he's in control, he knows what he's doing and embraces the dominance. (layla had no issues teaching him what does and doesn't feel good)

😏 - enjoys it. he enjoys it as a way to assert control in a way that's still intimate. it's also a way for him to connect with you and show his care; though he might not always admit it

✋ - yes, definitely. he's all about control so his hands are actively involved, whether it's holding your hips down, guiding you or fingering you

👀 - yes, dominant and intense. he likes to make sure you feel the power dynamic at play

🌀 - rough, hungry and assertive. he's more focused on getting the job done with intensity. he can be methodical when he's in control but there's also an urgency behind it. he doesn't waste time though there's passion in every move

💬 - yes, plenty of praising and taunting; 'you taste so fucking good…', 'i wanna hear you beg for it'

final judgement: mhm layla taught him well

nathan bateman

🔥 - highly confident, bordering on cocky. his need for control extends into his sexual life. he views oral as an art form that he's perfected

😏 - loves it but it's more about power and dominance than affection

✋ - yes, often. he uses his fingers expertly, teasing and applying pressure in a way that enhances his control over the situation. his method would be precise and purposeful, never sloppy (aside from when he's been drinking or if he's like exhausted. that's a whole other story)

👀 - yes but it's intense and purposeful. he uses eye contact to maintain dominance and gauge your reactions, almost as if he's studying you

🌀 - methodical and clinical but not in a bad way. he approaches oral like an experiment, where precision and technique matter above all else. he knows all your weak spots and he might even know your body better than you do…

💬 - yes, usually teasing and taunting; 'you're so predictable', 'hmm. that's new' (when he's drunk and/or tired it tends to be dirtier; 'such a greedy, fucking pussy…', 'just keep riding my face like that and i'll shut up')

final judgement: he has no right being this good (he probably trained himself using sexbots tbf)

orestes

🔥 - pretty confident. his confidence varies depending on his emotional connection with you. if he feels vulnerable or insecure in the relationship, his confidence in giving oral can fluctuate

😏 - loves it, sees it as an intimate act of devotion. it's not just about the act; it's about the closeness it brings

✋ - yes, often. usually to hold your thighs or position your hips or just generally worship your body

👀 - yes but in a vulnerable, intimate way. though he can take control and be dominant, he prefers to use eye contact as a sweet, appreciative thing. if he's not making eye contact, he's dragging his gaze all over your body and he loves it

🌀 - soft, slow and deeply affectionate. he focuses on your comfort and emotional well-being. his pace is deliberate, slow and measured. he doesn't rush, taking his time to enjoy every moment

💬 - occasionally but it's more about praise and soft words of affection; 'i love being close to you like this…', 'i've got you, sweet one. i've got you'

final judgement: he's honestly so lovely and he loves to show affection through words and touch

peter malkin

🔥 - reserved but competent. he doesn't rush and his self-assurance in these moments comes from his ability to control the situation, even if he doesn't show it outwardly

😏 - enjoys it. he's a deeply passionate and intense individual but he doesn't show that part of himself easily. he views giving oral as an intimate act, an expression of affection, care and trust. for him, it's not about excitement but a deeper emotional connection

✋ - yes, firm but tender. he might need a little direction but he's more than happy to adapt to what you need

👀 - yes, soft but intense. it's not forceful or commanding, more subtle and intimate. he also just likes to watch you to make sure he's doing a good job and to gauge your reactions

🌀 - methodical and precise. he focuses on being deliberate and careful, ensuring you feel comfortable and cared for. his approach is steady and thoughtful, ensuring that each movement serves the purpose of making the experience meaningful rather than rushed

💬 - no, very little. occasional praise and check-ins; 'how's that feeling?', 'you're doing great, neshama'

final judgement: he's not the best or the most flashy but there's a lot of heart behind it

poe dameron

🔥 - very confident (and for good reason). he exudes confidence in nearly everything he does, including eating pussy

😏 - loves it. he thrives on intimacy and the connection that comes with it. he sees giving oral as a deeply pleasurable and intimate act, where he can show you how much he cares for you. he enjoys the moment of closeness and the power dynamics at play, knowing how much it excites you

✋ - yes, he's very hands-on. he uses his fingers to tease or guide your movements. if you need to guide him, he'll commit it to memory so it won't take long until he knows you inside and out

👀 - yes, playful but intimate eye contact. he likes to make sure you're being taken care of and watching you get off only makes the experience better for him

🌀 - slow and sensual. he likes to take his time, focusing on every inch of your body. he enjoys building up the tension slowly, switching between soft, teasing touches and more intense, focused attention. his technique is precise but fluid, moving with a rhythm that encourages you to surrender to the moment

💬 - yes, praise with cheeky, playful teasing; 'what's that? you want more? yeah, i know. i can hear it, baby', 'yeah, yeah, i know. i'm amazing. you can thank me later'

final judgement: he's so good it's unfair and he can switch it up depending on what you need. he's adaptable

steven grant

🔥 - insecure / nervous but trying his best. he tends to be a little self-conscious, especially in intimate situations. he worries about doing something wrong or not meeting expectations so his confidence is lower at first. but, as he becomes more comfortable with you and learns what you like, his confidence will improve, even though he still gets a little awkward at times

😏 - loves it but shy about expressing it. he enjoys making you feel good but he might not always be comfortable showing just how much he enjoys it

✋ - sometimes but it's usually to hold your hand or some other grounding/comforting touch (at least until he gets more comfortable and learns what you like)

👀 - occasionally but it's shy and full of uncertainty. he's hesitant and awkward with eye contact during intimate moments but he does look up occasionally, especially when he feels he's doing something well or wants to gauge your reaction

🌀 - soft and sweet with a hint of curiosity. he's slow and methodical at first, paying attention to what you enjoy, learning and adapting as he goes. his movements are careful and considerate, though he may occasionally pause or stumble, especially if he gets self-conscious. his goal is always to be gentle and loving, rather than rough

💬 - yes but it's mainly praise or reassurances; 'i'm still getting the hang of this, love, so just…be patient with me, yeah?', 'i can't believe i get to do this with you… you're perfect'

final judgement: he's trying his very best and his enthusiasm and sincerity more than make up for his inexperience

william tell

🔥 - very confident (once he gets back into practice. isolation in prison has a weird way of making you a little more inept at eating pussy). he's a man of control, precision and discipline. his confidence comes from his deep understanding of the power dynamic in any given situation. when he gives oral, it's no different, he's in charge, fully aware of his ability to control the pace and intensity of the moment

😏 - loves it but more for the power dynamic and watching you squirm. giving oral isn't just about pleasure for him; it's about the psychological aspect. he enjoys the control over your body and mind, the sense of dominance it gives him. it's a way to assert power and connect with you in an intimate yet assertive way

✋ - yes, always. he uses his hands to hold you still, ensuring you can't pull away or squirm

👀 - yes, deliberate and intense. he maintains steady, almost unflinching eye contact to exert control. he wants to see your reaction, gauge your submission and ensure you understand who's in charge

🌀 - methodical and precise. he takes his time, methodically ensuring every movement is precise. his style is firm but controlled, taking measured, deliberate actions that create an intense, sometimes teasing rhythm

💬 - yes, usually commanding and firm; 'hands where i can see them. you don't touch unless i say so', 'you're gonna think about this every time you're alone'

final judgement: a little out of practice but he's got some tricks up his sleeve

oomph that was a lot! thank you for the ask tho, nonny 💛💛

[yansimstorythatiwillnotworkon]

#17

Tuesday

__

“Thank you for the help, Sho.” Ayano says, deciding to look pleasant and showing him a small smile.

Yesterday, Ayano had taken it upon herself to ask Uekiya what brand of fertilizer she usually used. After receiving the answer, decided that this time, she could use a bunch of her allowance in order to buy the fertilizer in order to help with both clubs. That would certainly help with her reputation, although it could also give her the reputation of a rich student… She’d have to see later if that affected her negatively at all.

Anyway, Ayano had placed all of the fertilizer in a wagon and left it just outside her home for her to bring it to school today. After rolling it all the way to the entrance of the Akademi grounds, she realized how exhausting it would be to roll it up the hill that led to the school entrance itself. Sho happened to be entering the school grounds as well, so she ended up asking him for help.

Sho allowed himself to smile a bit, seeming to appreciate the thanks that Ayano had offered him. “Don’t worry about it. I’m glad you asked me.” He says, before chuckling slightly, “Or, I guess I should say I’m glad I popped up before Budo?”

Ayano shrugs a bit, “Perhaps.”

“What’s all this fertilizer for anyway? It looks like a lot- and one of those expensive brands, too. I didn’t think you were in the Gardening Club.” Sho commented curiously, looking at the several bags of heavy fertilizer.

“I’m not. I’m just doing a favor for them, I hope.” Ayano responds, folding her hands together in front of her. “It didn’t cost much. They had a deal where if you buy five then the whole purchase was half-off. So the cost was… in all a bit over $70.” She shrugs briefly. “Better than $120. It’d probably be best to leave that to the school budget for the clubs, after all. I only bought this so that it was more convenient for the gardening club to work with the drama club for this week’s show.”

Sho raises his eyebrows in slight surprise. “That’s awfully generous of you, isn’t it?” He says, although internally he seemed to be contemplating if it was more generous or unnecessary. Ayano was contemplating that, too, frankly.

Ayano simply shrugs again at his comment as they reach the school gates, which is when she stops and takes the handle herself. “I’ll take this the rest of the way.” She says, bowing slightly. “Thank you again.”

“You’re welcome, Ayano.” Sho smiles with a wave before heading inside to get to his club. Once he leaves, Ayano heads to the gardening club. After she delivered this, she planned on looking into those lights that Riku was working so hard on.

When Ayano walked inside of the Gardening Club, she saw that Scilla was the only one inside. In Uekiya’s place, he seemed to be pruning some plants inside of the greenhouse. He turned to tend to another plant, but noticed Ayano walk in with the large wagon behind her. He looked at her curiously, fixing his glasses before placing his scissors in his pocket and walking out of the greenhouse. “Hi.. Hi, Ayano. What brings you here? With..” Scilla looks down to the wagon, leaning over a bit to take a peek of what’s inside. “...that’s a lot of fertilizer.”

Ayano nods. “Yeah. I heard that the gardening club was lacking in a lot of the fertilizer they were supposed to get, so I went ahead and bought it for them. You can set this aside somewhere if you want and tell Uekiya whenever she comes back if you want.” She offered, rolling the wagon up to him.

Scilla raises his eyebrows in surprise. “That must’ve cost a lot. You’ll have to speak to Kizana about paying you back.”

“I didn’t plan on being paid back.” Ayano claims, crossing her arms. “I did it as a favor. There’s no need to worry about me being paid.” She assured him, raising her hands nonchalantly. “I do have some more errands to run, though, so I’ll see you around.”

Scilla either didn’t know what to say or didn’t bother to say anything as he watched her leave. He waved a little, before looking down at the fertilizer. “...that’s a lot of pounds, too.” He sighs, not looking forward to pulling the wagon out of the way.

__

“Now, Taro.” Kizana strides over to him, reaching her hands up to his neck with a fabric ribbon, hanging it around his neck. “An important thing about acting is how you as the actor feel. And the only thing you should be feeling, frankly, is how the character feels.” She pats the fabric ribbon. “Tie that.” And then turns around to grab a separate accessory.

“A great way to feel how the character feels is to look like the character.” Kizana pauses, puckering her lips in thought as she looks at a different colored fabric ribbon. “Well. Sometimes. I tell you, I had bought an original version of Juliet’s dress for reference, but when I tried it on it was a drea–” She turns back around to face Taro and holds up the ribbon in her hand to the ribbon around his neck.

Kizana then pauses as she looks at what Taro’s done with the ribbon. A simple shoelace-tie! No, simpler than that… all he’d done is tie it into a knot! “I…Taro, what is that?”

Taro opened his mouth, but closed it again as his face went red. His face looked like it was mixed with guilt and embarrassment. “...I.. tied it..?”

With a judgemental look, Kizana folds her arms. This further made Taro feel ashamed of his mistake. “...sorry. I.. don’t know how to tie a bowtie like this.”

“Hmph.” Kizana huffs, reaching her hands up to tie it herself. “Well, you should have asked. I say, sometimes you remind me of Shozo with how stubbornly he insists on working alone. How am I meant to correct you lot if you don’t come to me with your doubts?” She sighs, shaking her head and pulling away from the finished bowtie. “And there you are. I suppose we’ll move onto… bow tying etiquette sometime later.”

Taro shows an embarrassed expression and simply looks down as Kizana continues walking around the back of the club room.

“Anyway.” Kizana tosses her ponytail over her shoulder- as she somehow found a way to do with any hairstyle she had. This current hairstyle was a single high ponytail tossed and curled to rest on the left side of her head. Still, of course, she had roses keeping her ponytail in place.

Kizana turns around to pick up a piece of paper from the desk in the back corner. “Here, let’s say you’re… hm… one of these soldiers. Ah, let’s see…” She hums in thought, twirling her finger around the end of her ponytail as she reads the paper a few times over. “Alright.” She sets the sheet of paper down and faces Taro.

“I will give you a situation. You are a knight- not anything spectacular, but anyone to be stepped on either. Your job, generally speaking, is to protect the kingdom- and most importantly- the royalty that rules over the kingdom.” Kizana starts, raising a hand to her chest in a dramatic, animated manner. “The night is the same as any other, outside of rumors of the princess having constant meetings, perhaps even an affair with some… mysterious man outside of her fiance. Of course, it’s not your job to gossip, so what does it matter in this situation?” Taro nods slowly, unsure of where Kizana is going exactly. Suddenly, he’s shocked by Kizana letting out a sharp, ghastly gasp and pointing up to the ceiling. “But, oh goodness! What is that, over there?!”

Bewildered, Taro looks over to where Kizana is pointing, but not seeing anything significant. “Is that some… shadowy figure sneaking into the princess’ room via her large, unlocked and open window with the aesthetically placed vines crawling up to it? Whatever shall you do, Sir Taro?!” The purple-haired girl asked in a very convincing horrified tone, although her sarcasm helps Taro understand that this was all hypothetical.

After a moment of silence, Kizana glares at Taro. This actually helped Taro realize that he was meant to respond outside of watching her dramatic acting. “O-Oh, um. I’ll.. climb after him?”

Kizana nods, thinking for just a moment before continuing. “Alright, you climb after him! But thanks to your loud, clanky, and frankly very unfashionable suit of armor, he anticipates your eventual arrival! Oh no! You’re thrown off instantly, and the unfashionable armor does very little to break your fall. Consider yourself a dead man, Sir Taro!”

“Oh, okay…” Taro holds a hand up to his chin in thought, “That’s a bit underwhelming. Um, okay, so instead of climbing up with my armor, do I take it off? I- I have clothes underneath, right..?” He asks, his face going red a bit as he hoped that Kizana wasn’t too literal about this whole hypothetical situation.

Kizana laughs. “Great idea! Thanks to American 14th century logic, you have armor padding underneath! Congratulations, Sir Taro!” Kizana looks up again, as if actually seeing the tower as she points up. “You scale the tower without your clanky, unfashionable armor on! But stripping the metals off took so long, the princess and whomever snuck into her room had already fled through her open bedroom door! What do you do?!”

“Um, I… chase after them! A-Are there no guards outside her bedroom?” Taro asks, glad at least to not have been dead yet.

“When you walk out of the room, you see your fellow- armored- guards strewn across the floor! The only hint for where they could’ve gone is the trail of bodies leading you down the right side of the hallway. What do you do?!” Kizana asks, putting her hands on her hips with a smile. “Think quick!”

“I-I head to the right- as quickly as possible! Do I catch up to them?” Taro tries his best to copy Kizana’s dramatic speech, but can’t help but shrink back whenever she does due to the sheer force behind her voice.

Kizana nods, “That you do, Sir Taro! Thanks to your quick thinking and lighter feet due to the lack of armor, you catch up to them!”

Taro smiles, glad that this was taking a more positive turn, but his optimism is immediately shot down by Kizana’s next statement. “But, alas! The mysterious man is not only armored, but has the strength and skill to take down several armored and armed knights! And he’s probably better looking, too! Who knew?!” Kizana exclaims, tossing her hand to her forehead dramatically.

Before Taro can comment on Kizana’s last comment, she continues with an expression of faux dread. “The foolish knight that is Sir Taro falls in .5 seconds due to his foolish decision, too-” Kizana raises a hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh and quickly continues, “-to chase after an evident murdering maniac with the strength of a dozen men with nothing but armor padding!”

Kizana lets out a laugh, which proves to be contagious as Taro fails to be upset at the unfortunate turn of events and laughs as well.

“Oh, my, what made you think that that was a good idea?” Kizana asks, her voice still light with laughter.

Taro shrugs a bit, looking embarrassed, but still enjoying the whole scenario. “Um.. plot armor?” He says unsurely.

“Ha! Regular armor would have made that a better idea, Sir Taro. Or alerting guards outside, or turning to go alert the king and queen.” Kizana waves her hand dismissively. “Oh, well. You can always learn from the mistake of death in fiction.”

Their dying laughter was interrupted by Kokona entering the room. “Um, Kizana..?” She calls, peeking around to find her. “..there’s a slight.. Problem.”

Kizana’s hands immediately fly to her hips as she sees Kokona’s hairstyle. “I’ll say! What is that?!” She points an accusatory finger to Kokona.

Kokona decided to try to take Kizana’s advice and came to school with a single drilled ponytail rather than twins. “...um…” Kokona nervously twirls the end of her hair around her finger. “...it’s… a ponytail… like you said.”

“Kokona, I said that yesterday! That’s obviously old news!” Kizana huffs, although Kokona seemed more nervous about whatever problem she was talking about previously rather than Kizana’s outburst.

“...one of the lights fell through the stage.” Kokona blurts out, causing Kizana to shut up for a moment.

“The- one of-” Kizana struggles to find her words before just screeching, “What?!”

__

Riku had allowed Ayano to help with the stage lights, and with just a bit of tweaking from her screwdriver, she’d effectively made it looser when hanging it back up. Unfortunately, it was too loose, because once she’d left to see what Kizana and Taro were up to, she heard Kokona say that one of the stage lights had already fallen. Not just fallen, but through the stage thanks to Riku reinforcing it to not dent the next time it did fall.

She followed the three back to the Auditorium, where there was, in fact, a pretty big hole in the stage. “My- my stage!!” Kizana exclaimed, heading up to look at the damage. “I- who- what happened?!”

Ayano walked onto the stage as well, peering into the hole silently. The light had fallen through the stage completely and into the hollow space beneath it.

“I think since I used tougher material for the stage light, rather than the light breaking… well…” Riku held a hand to the very clear hole in the stage.

Since it would come up eventually, Ayano spoke up. “I- I’m the one who set up the light. It must not have been secure enough, hence why it fell.” She explained, folding her hands together.

Kizana turned to glare at Ayano, gritting her teeth. “Ayano…” She grumbled, looking as if she was going to strangle her if she had the strength to do so.

Tsuruzo walked up behind Ayano and put his hand on her shoulder. “It’s alright, Kizana. We can still practice, and this hole shouldn’t be too hard to fix up. The light fell in the same place twice, so it’s no wonder this particular area collapsed.”

This time, despite Tsuruzo being the one trying to calm her down, Kizana didn’t seem to for some reason. Before she could yell anything else, her phone suddenly rang, and she audibly groaned this time after checking the caller ID. Rather than actually excusing herself, she simply stormed off and out of the Auditorium.

The room was silent after she left, and Ayano quietly mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

Tsuruzo still looked a bit on edge, but smiled at Ayano. “Oh, come now, that could have happened to anyone. You’ve been helping us even before the show week came up, it’s not your fault that one of your many attempts to help just happened to be a failure.” He assures her, rubbing her back comfortingly.

“If you say so.” Ayano mutters, really just not wanting to look up to see Taro looking at her from below the stage.

“If you want to distract yourself, I have a separate favor for you if you want.” Tsuruzo offers, leaning down to smile at her. “I can assure you it doesn’t have anything to do with hardware, if you’re up for it?”

__

“H-Huh?” Hazu flinched, seeming shocked that Ayano entered the room without him noticing. Then again, his nose was in a corner, so there wasn’t much that he could notice by sight anyway. “Hi- Um- Do you, uh… need this area? I can… I can totally leave. I spend most of my time here anyway. I-I could go for a walk, actually..” He rambled quietly, standing up as if to leave as quickly as possible.

Ayano steps in front of him, “No, actually, I don’t need you to leave. Rather…” She holds a hand up to her chin in thought. “Is there anything you need me to do for you?” She asks, but is only met with a skeptical look- or at least that’s what she assumed from his silence considering she can’t see above his nose.

“Wh-Why?” Hazu asked, but something in Ayano’s expression seemed to scare him into rewording. “I mean, I’m- I just- I’m not sure why you would want to… do that. Is all. Ahem. I can totally ask for something, but I don’t actually have, like… anything in mind. It’s… is this so that I owe you something..?”

Ayano debates briefly on how to answer that. She didn’t know if Hazu would react a certain way if she was honest with him, but she did know that Tsuruzo wanted this task done quickly. “...call it my way of having common courtesy. The drama club wants you to do a favor for them, but I figured that it would be more polite to do something for you first, or in return.” She explains, folding her arms.

Tapping his fingers together a bit, Hazu’s voice comes out quiet, maybe even a bit disappointed as he murmurs, “Oh. That makes sense, I guess..” He becomes just a bit louder for the sake of speaking clearer as he says, “But- I mean- I just don’t… have much I… need. Um… well, I mean, I don’t have much to eat right now. N-Not that I need to eat. Um, I guess water would be more important..? I haven’t drinken anything since this morning at home… is a, uh… like a drink or something okay..?”

A drink probably wouldn’t suffice for the favor that Hazu was supposed to do for the drama club. The entire task was, he was supposed to put together outfits for a few of the extras that would come on stage. Apparently, Kizana was reluctant about spending money on outfits that weren’t meant to look that good anyway. Peasants, knights and such.

Ayano explained just that, and Hazu mumbled something and thought again about what he’d like. “Well… um… i-if you can, I guess I’d… I’d just prefer it if you stayed here with me and helped..? …if that’s possible..”

Technically, Ayano didn’t have much else to do outside of this task at the moment. And maybe she could learn a thing or two by helping him out with these. Maybe like the base to making her own uniform if disaster ever struck? “I can do that.” She replies, nodding to the quieter boy.

After about half an hour of Ayano handing Hazu the necessary tools and fabric, Hazu decides to speak up. He clears his throat a bit. “I, uh, I’ve seen you around.” He starts, but seems to grow more embarrassed at that awkward starting quote. “I mean, um… I’ve heard you do a lot of tasks and stuff. For no reason, I mean, and that’s… that’s kinda cool.”

Ayano pauses, wondering how exactly she should respond to that. All of the shyer students seem to prefer a certain type of company- but Hazu was Amise’s friend from what Ayano knows- maybe Ayano could try acting like her?

In her best attempt, Ayano smiles a bit, looking a bit bashful. “I… guess. I just like staying busy. And helping others is a… generally good thing to do… right? Why not stay busy doing that?” She shrugs a bit, hoping to play a mix of awkward and unnecessarily sweet like Amise.

That way maybe that would explain why she was so “emotionless” when she first approached him. Really, she just assumed that this task would be done quickly, so it didn’t matter how she appeared to him for just a few moments. Now that she was here that clearly wasn’t the case.

For some reason, Hazu only seems to hesitate further when Ayano tries to appear more friendly. “Yeah.. Yeah, I get it.” Hazu pauses for a minute, before slowly speaking up again. “So, um… are you interested in sewing at all? I can… I-I can teach you if you’re interested.”

“Well… I guess it’d be beneficial for me to try. Are you thinking of making a club out of this?” Ayano asks, crossing one leg over the other as she watches Hazu work nervously.

“Um..” Hazu exhales, as if frustrated at himself for not speaking properly. “...w-well, no… I mean, I’ve thought of it… but I’ve never… I don’t think I’d make a good leader… or a member at all.” He shakes his head as he slowly sews together a brown cloth to his desired shape.

Hazu’s gaze remains stuck on the skirt he was making as he mutters, “I-I can’t even look anyone in the eye..” He admits quietly, seeming to sulk a bit at that reminder.

Ayano didn’t exactly know what to say in response to that. Hazu seemed to catch onto this and quickly changed the subject. “A-Anyway, um, there’s actually a little booklet here somewhere that can give you the basics on sewing. And.. and I’ll be here to help if you need anything, so, uh… feel free to ask questions..” Hazu stood up from his seat and motioned for her to take his place.

Although he proved to be a good teacher, Ayano realized that working with him further would mean that she’d have to brace herself for several bad habits that he had. Such as randomly trailing off and sulking about something, going into detail about one thing but not going into enough about another… all things that Ayano was willing to deal with, but also things that she noticed about Hazu.

Eventually, it was time for the first period. “We won’t be able to get all of these done by today, but by tomorrow we should. I-If you want to stick around.” Hazu explained briefly, slowly shuffling to the door as Ayano finished putting a few fabrics up.

“I’ll tell Kizana and Tsuruzo that.” Ayano says, wiping her hands together with an exhale. She turned to Hazu with a small smile. “Thank you for your hard work.”

This time, Hazu smiled a bit and whatever parts of his cheeks that Ayano could see turned a bit pink at the praise. “I-It’s no problem. It feels nice to be acknowledged..” He mumbled, clearly very shy, but not in any sort of bad mood currently. As the two leave the room, Hazu stutters out, “Th-Thanks for letting me talk, Yan-ch– I mean, Ayan– I mean… Yano-Chan. Thanks..”

“Don’t worry about it.” Ayano nods to him, patting him on the back, which seems to surprise him as he flinches. “You… have a nice voice.” She says, deciding to throw a compliment out before they actually parted ways.

“I-I–” Hazu’s face goes red and he’s unable to say anything as Ayano leaves. “Dang it..” He mumbles, disappointed at himself for fumbling at the last second. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to feel too disappointed in himself as Ayano’s compliments circle through his head.

__

The school day seemed to end earlier than usual, and Ayano couldn’t quite place why. Her plan to crush Kizana had failed and really only caused more trouble, she had only just started the process with the dresses, but at the very least she did deliver that fertilizer to the gardening club.

“Oh, Ayano! Hi!” Uekiya suddenly called to Ayano as she was walking past school gates. She had a potted plant in her hands- one that held what looked like a very light purple bunch of small flowers.

The club leader immediately rushed over to Ayano and held out the plant to her. “Hi, I’m so glad I caught you before you left!” She exhaled in relief, seeming a bit flushed, as if she’d been running. Maybe she’d been searching for Ayano for a while?

Ayano slowly took the potted flower, looking down to it before looking up to Uekiya with a slightly confused look. “What’s this for? Do you want me to bring it to someone?” She guessed, holding the pot against her hip as she tilted her head at Uekiya.

“Ha, no! I thought you’d say that, hehe.. Actually, I–” Uekiya exhales once more, seeming incredibly exhausted. She must have been running for a while. “Phew! Sorry.” She lets her voice lower to her usual sweet and soft tone, although it was still quite out of breath. “Okay, Scilla told me that you bought all that fertilizer for us, which is just so sweet of you! I wanted to give you a special gift today, but I was running around doing errands all day, and this was the only plant that was potted by the time I was finished..” Uekiya explained quickly, huffing just a little bit. Her long explanation likely didn’t help her catch her breath.

Before Ayano could continue, Uekiya put her gloved hands together with an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t put anything nicer together, but I hope you know that I still intend to!” She wiped the dirt off of her gloves briefly and smiled at Ayano. “I’ve obviously been busy with Kizana’s tasks, and all I can really offer are plants, so if you need some sort of plant-related favor or something, then please come to me first! Like… maybe a certain flower you want, or… I-I make a lovely salad if that sounds appetizing? I know not everyone finds use in a plant that could die in a week, but, um…”

Whenever Uekiya got flustered, she had a habit to ramble apologetically, something that Ayano learned about her a week or two before. Ayano listens, but her gaze lowers a bit in disinterest, and she realizes that Taro could have left on his own somewhere. Not to mention, she had somewhere to be at the moment.

“Uekiya.” Ayano smiles, although this particular time it’s quite difficult to do so. “I appreciate the flowers. And I’ll ask if I need some specific one- I’m sure I will eventually.” She puts the pot back into both of her hands. “Which kind is this one?”

“Ah! Well, the scientific name is ‘Valeriana Officinalis’, but commonly it’s known as a ‘valerian’.” Uekiya explains with a smile, casually flexing her knowledge on the plant. “Actually, if used correctly, I heard it has some pretty splendid sedative effects! You’d probably need more, but… if you’re ever grasping at straws during a particular sleep-robbed night then I suggest trying your luck with it!” She suggests, folding her hands together happily, seeming happy just to talk about the plant.

Ayano’s eyes lit up a bit at that information. “A free sedative sounds perfect.” She says, making Uekiya giggle. “I’ll make sure to take good care of this, and I’ll ask you for tips as well. For now, though..” Ayano nods her head to the exit. “I have to head to work.”

“Ooh! Having a job is admirable, Ayano! Good luck!” Uekiya waves happily, rushing back to her club rather than towards the exit as well. She did always like spending as much time with her plants as possible, so that wasn’t surprising.

But, yes, when Info-Chan had suggested Ayano get a job, she did. In a short amount of time, she was accepted and was meant to go in for her first day. Apparently, the reason she was accepted so quickly was because they were dangerously understaffed and their waiting list grew too long.

As for where she was working…

__

“Good afternoon, sir!” Ayano beams, dressed in a particularly frilly brown and pink maid outfit. Hearts and bows littered the dress, shoes, socks, frill cap, everything. Ayano didn’t have a particular taste when it came to outfits, but this truly was just uncomfortable to wear. It was a miracle that they had a longer skirt option- that way, hopefully her awkward walking in these heels she was wearing wasn’t too noticeable.

Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear (as she was instructed to for an effect of “extra charm”), she lifted up the pink notepad in her gloved hands, a separate pink pen in her other. “Ah, sirs, I mean.” She nods to the man behind the first. “I take it this is a party for two?”

“Ah, you’re cute. You must be one of the new ladies, right?” The first, older-looking man, maybe in his 40s, smiled as charming as he could considering he looked barely kept together. He motioned to Ayano and turned to the man behind him. “I told you they’d take my advice. The simpler ones look better in the outfits.”

The man behind him simply rolled his eyes, looking much younger and ironically better kept. “If this food isn’t as good as you promise, I’m telling your wife.” He threatens, obviously seeming unhappy to be here. Ayano didn’t blame him, frankly. Being a grown man surrounded by childish-looking girls was not the best image for someone as professional-looking as him.

Despite the older man’s nervous expression, the younger man turns to Ayano with a straight face. “Yes, a table for two.”

Ayano nodded, just barely catching her smile before it fell completely. “I see! We have a perfect table just for you two just this way!” She points just around the corner, and the older man walks forward, as if knowing exactly where he was supposed to be sat. Before Ayano could follow him to lead the way, the younger man grabbed her wrist.

Ayano turned back with a questioning gaze, but her questions were immediately answered when the man whispered. “How much do you make here?”

Lowering her voice as well, Ayano responded, “30 An hour.”

“Damn.” The man lets go of his wrist, frankly no longer looking like he wanted to judge her.

“35 Hours a week.” She continued.

“Damn.” He shook his head, “If I got paid that much I’d wear that get-up, too, god dammit.”

That was all the man seemed to want to know, as he walked past her in order to catch up with his… friend? Co-worker? Regardless, Ayano followed after him exactly to the table where his acquaintance seemed to be already aware of.

Ayano stood in front of them as the two looked at the menu available to them. “Do either of you have an idea of what you want to eat or should I give you both a minute?” She asked politely, lightly tapping the pink notepad as daintily as she could.

“Oh, I already know what I’m getting.” The older man said, pointing to one of the items on the menu. “Get me that Stunningly Sweet Strawberry Shortcake Supreme, sweetheart.” He said confidently, winking at Ayano at the end. Frankly, she was impressed that he could say such a tongue twister- although alternatively that just showed how often he came here, which was… less impressive.

His acquaintance seemed to think the same based on his disgusted and… frankly disappointed expression to which he pointed at his partner. “...right, well. What is the most expensive thing I can purchase here?” He asks.

“The most expensive thing you can purchase would be a massage from one of our experienced employees.” Ayano explained briefly. “With the optional additional fee that you request a specific maid to do so.”

The younger man grimaces, looking as if he was quite ready to leave. “My presence here is a derogatory experience, I hope you know that.” He says to his acquaintance. “I mean the menu, maid. What is the most expensive thing that I can eat?”

“Ah, that would be our special-made fruit-based ice cream right here in our cafe. It’s called the Illuminating Ice-Cold Ice Cream, made with Nakazawa Milk, Yubari King Melon, Ruby Roman Grapes, and Densuke Black Watermelon- amongst other… expensive ingredients.” Ayano explains, reading off of the menu she had in her hand, which explained all of that in further detail. By no means would she be able to speak all of that via memory. “...for $1,000.”

The younger man raises an eyebrow. “That’s awfully cheap for something that includes items that range from $800 to $26,000 at the cheapest.” He points out, looking suspicious of the whole thing. “I’ll take it.” He says.

“As you wish, sirs.” Ayano bows deeply, before turning to head into the kitchen.

“Must you analyze everything, Stephen?” The older man hisses, only receiving an eye roll from the younger man, who’s name was apparently Stephen. It didn’t sound quite Japanese if Ayano cared to analyze.

Ayano didn’t catch Stephen’s response, but she didn’t care to listen too much. She told the order to the girl in the kitchen, who seemed to be in a particularly bad mood. Not that her mood seemed any better when Ayano first met her. The cook rolled her eyes, mumbling something about how ‘at least it was easy’, although Ayano didn’t bother to linger on that either.

Instead, she went to the front door, where the bell attached to the door had rung, signaling that someone had walked in. She looked down to her notepad as she approached the door, flipping the page to an empty one. “Hello, sir…” She looked up, and then paused in surprise. “..Gema?” She tilted her head to the side, shocked but not entirely surprised to see him here. In fact, she wasn’t surprised at all.

“Oh, shit. Ayano?” Gema blinked in shock, looking far more bewildered to see her here. “Wow, I didn’t think any of the girls at school would bother working here.” He says, rummaging through his bag, likely for his wallet. “Mainly because girls like Musume make posts about how it’s derogatory to the feminist movement and… stuff.” He shrugs, not seeming to really care either way. “But it does pay a lot, doesn’t it? If they took guys in skirts I’d work here, too.” He claims.

Ayano nods, “Not the first time I’ve heard that.” She shrugs, peeking behind him to see that no one else was with him.“I’ll take you to your table.” She says, leading him to a single-person booth in the back.

“So, what brings you here?” Ayano asks, figuring that making conversation would make her appear a bit more friendly than she usually was. Not that Gema would ever notice while at school.

“Mm…” Gema lets out a reluctant groan, but looks down to the menu and mumbles, “...well, I mean, girls are paid to be nice to me here.” He shrugs, burying his nose deeper into the menu. “It’s just… I mean, it’s just a breath of fresh air from the honesty I get from the girls at school, is all. At least the girls here are good at acting. Whichever ones are left, I mean.”

Ayano hums in understanding, pulling her notepad to rest on her hip. “To the customers they certainly are. The staff is…” She frowns, trailing off to leave that to Gema’s interpretation. “Anyway, do you have anything in mind? Appetizers or drinks? Uh, sir?”

Admittedly, it felt strange to call her schoolmate anything other than his name, but policy was policy. Frankly, she was lucky that this maid cafe had an 18-and-under rule for leniency on requirements here.

Gema seemed to feel the strangeness as well as he grimaced lightly. “Don’t… just… just stick to Gema. It’s… weird to hear a classmate call me that. In fact, I’d rather you just act how you do at school. You’re nicer than most of the girls there anyway.” He admits, seeming a bit embarrassed to do so as he looks down at the menu.

Ayano nods. “Got it.”

Seeming to already have his order in mind, Gema places the menu down. “Can you get me the chocolate breakfast meal thingy? I don’t know how these people say those long-ass names..” He mumbled.

The meal he was talking about was the “Charmingly Cute Chicky Chocolate Breakfast Bundle’. Complete with a stack of chocolate pancakes with dollops of moose holding it up like a tower. The top was decorated in a fancy, cake-like manner with more moose and plenty of whipped cream, with the middle having a cute baby chicken drawn in the middle in some sort of frosting. It also had a cup of hot cocoa littered with whipped cream, marshmallows, and chocolate sauce towering up, with yet another cute baby chicken drawn atop the whipped cream with the same chocolate sauce.

Humming in response, Ayano swiftly writes down the order onto the notepad with a nod. “Anything else? A glass of water might help balance all of that… sugar.” She recommends.

Gema digs into his bag and pulls out a water bottle. “I come here monthly to treat myself. The desserts are good, but water for five dollars is crazy, Ayano.”

“Agreed.” Ayano sighs, turning to walk to the kitchen. “I’ll put in your order. One sec.”

“Thanks, Ayano.” Gema nods, pulling out a portable gaming device as Ayano walks away.

Once again, Ayano informed the chef about the order, but this time she seemed genuinely irritated. Likely because this meal, despite it being cheaper than the ice cream the other man ordered, required much more effort. Ayano didn’t watch the chef make the ice cream, but she was just doing something on her phone, so she assumed it didn’t take that much effort. She didn’t even know where the man’s order was.

The chef points to a waiting plate- one that she hadn’t bothered notifying Ayano about until she got back. It was the something-something shortcake that the older man ordered. She was surprised that this was ready first, considering how much more complex it seemed than the ice cream.

Regardless, Ayano grabbed the plate and headed back towards the table with the two men. Thanks to these specific hours, Ayano gets a slow shift. So, her being the only waitress on the job wasn’t too much work.

“Here you are, sir.” Ayano puts the plate on the table in front of the older man and nods to the younger, “Your meal should be ready soon, sir.”

The older man pulls out his wallet and fingers through the dollar bills. “How much does it cost to get you to feed it to me, again?” He asks shamelessly. Another reason for Ayano to be thankful for the minor rule.

“$100, sir.” Ayano replies before quickly adding, “Ah, but, I’m 17. Spoon-feeding you isn’t a requirement until I’m a legal adult.” She reminded him, causing the man to groan and pocket his wallet.

“Damn rules. That didn’t used to be a rule, you know.” The older man huffed to his companion, who really only seemed more offended the more he spoke.

“You’re a disappointment.” The younger man simply said.

Ayano bowed to the two men with a quiet farewell and walked over to the kitchen window to check if anyone else’s order was ready, but didn’t see anything. Ayano assumed that she could go over and talk to Gema for another moment, but halted when she heard the front door bell ring once more.

Rather than waiting, the woman who had entered simply walked in and took a seat. “You, girl. Come.” She ordered, motioning to Ayano.

Doing as she commanded, Ayano walked over to the woman. “Hello, my lady. Might I get your name?” She asks, flipping to another vacant page of her notepad.

The lady lets out an almost familiar offended scoff. “Are you joking with me, girl? Right my name down.” She orders, pointing to the notepad.

When Ayano gave a confused glance, the woman looked up and gave an also familiar glare. Where had Ayano seen her face before.

“God, kids these days have no damn taste. Maybe if you all got off them damn ipads and… whatever the hell that thing is..” The woman pointed to Gema, who slowly lowered his portable device out of her vision when she pointed it out.

The woman brushes off her frustration and holds her hand to her chest with an offended expression. “My name is Ayame Sunobu. I’ve been an actor across Asia for years. You’d do well to remember that, girl.” She hissed, pulling up the menu.

Ayano looked shocked for a moment, but quickly pulled her pen up to her clipboard to write down whatever lengthy-named order the woman told her. It was some sort of simple pancake meal, one of the oldest options on the menu, it seemed. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be back soon with your order.” She assures her, bowing deeply before heading off to the kitchen once more.

From Ayano’s assumption- and the fact that Kizana has no older sister as far as she’s concerned- this woman, Ayame, was Kizana’s mother. Outside of being surprised of meeting her, she was surprised that she would be at some degenerate-filled maid cafe of all places. It was interesting… Ayano wished that Ayame were in a calmer mood. Maybe then she could actually take some of her time to ask some questions and learn about Kizana..? But not tonight, it seemed.

Ayano told the chef the simple order, but she still complained. At some point she’ll end up running out of things to complain about and just start repeating herself, Ayano thought. Gema’s order was ready, so she brought his order to him. “Here you are.”

Ayano bowed briefly, but before she could leave, Gema grabbed her arm. “Are you serious?” He hissed, coaxing Ayano to raise her eyebrows at him.

“I’ll need more context than that, Gema.” She mutters, lowering her eyebrows in disinterest.

“You just brushed off Kizana’s mom like it was nothing! Do you know how rich they are?” Gema whisper-yelled, hopefully not catching the attention of Ayame.

Ayano frowned. “Does that really matter? I treated her politely, didn’t I?” She asked, giving Gema a confused look.

“Well, yeah, but rich people don’t care about politeness. You’ve seen how Kizana acts around Kokona. She obviously got it from somewhere.” Gema pointed out.

If Ayano didn’t have some sort of interest in Kizana, she truly wouldn’t care, but in her current situation, she had to admit that Gema had a point. Perhaps a way to get on Kizana’s good side was getting on her mother’s good side. Considering that she could possibly be a regular customer, she might have multiple chances to do so. Ayano has seen how Kizana reacts to her mother, after all. She obviously holds the woman in high regard. It’s no wonder she’d mock her idol.

“You have a point..” Ayano mumbles.

Gema seems glad that Ayano admitted that and smiles a little. “Right? Try to be super overly nice. But not too nice! Then you’ll just be annoying. Just don’t be dismissive!” He added indecisively, causing Ayano to frown.

“I enjoy your company, Gema, but you’re really exhausting sometimes.” Ayano sighs.

“You enjoy my company?” Gema repeats, looking bashful at the admission. Ayano was glad that he paid attention to the nicer-sounding part. It’s likely good to stay in his good graces as well, if just for convenience-sake.

Ayano glances back, seeing that the ice cream was ready. “I have to get back to work. When I come back I’ll tell you how many calories that is.” She says in an attempt at a joke as she walks away.

Gema’s smile is immediately wiped off his face. “..please don’t.”

Ayano brings the ice cream over to the younger man and bows her head briefly to him. “Here you are, sir.” She says. Once again, before he could turn to walk away, the man speaks up.

“One moment, maid. I have a few questions.” He says. After taking a few pictures of his ice cream, he sets his phone down and raises his spoon to take a bite of just the ice cream.

The young man pauses, before frowning. “It’s a bit hard on the outside, but soft in the middle. Is it supposed to be like that?” He asks.

Ayano nods. “That’s right. We let it get just a bit soft before adding the toppings and putting it in a blast freezer in order to harden the outside quickly. It adds to the creamy taste and I heard it enriches the flavor of the nakazawa milk.”

The man frowns, looking doubtful. “Is that right… and no freezer burn? Hm..” He doesn’t seem to be looking for an answer as he takes a bite with one of the many fruits littered around the swirl of ice cream.

“I suppose I shouldn’t have expected this to taste any different from cantaloupe and watermelon. I admit, it has no taste at all, so I can’t even say for sure that this tastes enough like any sort of special, thousand dollar fruit.” The young man grumbles, looking at Ayano again. “So, what’s the point of adding the fruit if it makes the fruit too cold to taste?” He asks.

Ayano raises her eyebrows. “I wish I could answer your question, sir. I’ve never had any of the dishes myself, but our chef is in the kitchen if you’d like to ask her.” She offers, receiving a brief nod from the young man.

He takes a few more bites, but ultimately stops half-way, takes out his spoon, and slides it over to his older companion. “Hm. It doesn’t taste any different from basic vanilla ice cream. Even the nakazawa milk doesn’t do much to change the flavor. I could just be in denial, but I’m certainly not relaxed due to it.” He shakes his head with a sigh. “Hifumi, this visit has proven to me that you’re old, delusional, and a pervert.” He says simply.

His older companion, Hifumi, apparently, simply rolls his eyes, as if giving up on trying to impress the younger man. Instead, Hifumi focuses on eating the ice cream he was offered.

“Thank you for your service and questions, young lady.” The young man said, standing up from his seat. “Hifumi will take care of the bill.” He claims, before simply walking out of the cafe.

“Have a nice night, sir!” Ayano calls, waving briefly before turning to the older man. “Is there anything else you need, sir?”

“Eh, don’t worry about it.” Hifumi sighs, putting down the glass his ice cream was in. “That chef is older than you, ain’t she?” He forks out a few extra bills and hands it to Ayano with a wink. “Tell her that her meals are heavenly- even if it’s just regular vanilla ice cream.” He says, trying his best to sound charming. “A-Actually, leave out that last part. On second thought, let me rephrase..”

“Girl!”

Ayano wasn’t sure if she was relieved or exhausted at the fact that Ayame had called for her. The light purple-haired woman pointed to the kitchen window, where her meal was sitting, no doubt getting cold thanks to the incompetence of Ayano’s lovely co-worker.

Quickly grabbing the plate of food, Ayano sped-walked over to Ayame. “Apologies for the wait, my lady. Your food.” She bows her head deeply after giving Ayame the food. Thankfully, Ayame was either too tired to or was genuinely content with the food despite its almost lukewarm nature.

“Hmph. At least you’re quick on your feet.” Ayame huffed, taking a picture of her food before eating it. While she did so Ayano continued working, cleaning after the Hifumi fella, bidding Gema farewell, and eventually doing the same to Ayame.

Unfortunately, she never got the chance to say anything to her, and before Ayano knew it, her shift was over. No updates came from Info-Chan that night, and Ayano enjoyed the next few hours of sleep she got. She had no reason to use Uekiya’s flowers for anything, but did water it before she went off to bed.

Hopefully tomorrow she'll get an actual chance to speak to Ayame. Hopefully that will give her an upper hand over Kizana as well.

[spamtoon]

DCRC week 3 time! ...In week 4.

you see. every time i wanted to open this comic. i wanted to do something else actually sosososososo bad. however now's the time

my history with the comics is ZILCH. i've had my friend show me a few duck comics they had in their first language and i've read some of the darkwing stuff but i haven't dived head first into scrooge's origins the way that many other duckblr members have

please note i might be off because i am very tired as of writing this. i will pass out directly after i finish this and so my judgements might be a bit. Strange

First comment I'd like to make her is how professional the comic seems, though that may just be because i'm viewing this though the don rosa archive on the definitely legal website. i'm glad at the very least that all of these like. little comics that are hard to keep track of are in one place

second off i just want to shoutout how tiny louie is here. ity bity. the 87 triplets are so small. sorry this is how it is with me i'm like wow... i appreciate these comics and all of the work people put into them and then im like oh louie little

Oh my aching eyebulbs! I did in fact misread that as lightbulbs

great panel we've got going on here. og glomgold acting quite fruity while donald needs to catch the thing... Glomgold you do understand you are also claiming other people's fortunes given the work for you in the south african diamond mines... a detail that i've only ever heard in trivia until now.

donald is so just continuously done with their garbage and he deserves to be i think. for all he's been through

sorry i just like the exaggerated poses here and the sillouettes and line effects. showcasing the them

Oh deliver us!

sorry i just love the expressions (and posing in the third) here. i know i'm mainly admiring comic panels so far but dang it. they...

aaaaand this is where the stuff that. didnt quite age starts. i've heard from chatter on discord that Things Happen in this comic and that scrooge should be wanted in Peru because of it. they way that some of the descendants are just casually helping him gnngnsn. i understand it was the 80s...

glomgold ate in this outfit and i'm sure you all agree. assuming this is glomgold i havent read that yet but look at him. that's glomgold. his goofy ahh smirk

FOEIJFIOUSGJEIAFEAFOJIUEAAEJOFEADAEFJIEA well. i did forget that glomgold held scrooge at gunpoint. and he does! i'm so . the way he's just. being held at gunpoint and scrooge's reaction is like THIS IS LITERALLY IMPOSSIBLE i'm so. not even a gun can stop scrooge mcduck. or the triplets for that mater they also are kinda unphased at this point

another case where i just want to note these panels for the pose and expression contrast between the two of them... they

FEAHUIAOEJFEA the cogging way that the sound effects STREEEEETCH across the winds. priceless i think

i also want to note the action panels in the plane crash section i'm so. this one in particular but all of them really

Okay so i guess they were just. stuck with glomgold for multiple days. and scrooge is like where the barp is everyone ohhhh curse me cog darn kilts sorry

also omg calisota mention. calisota girls we're unforgesorry

glomgold's little happy handstand... you deserve to dark.wing cartwheel actually i think. also caro thinking about quack.erjack

parrot mention (context. im normal about that phone guy)

also please know before it registered that was a shine effect i thought the zebra's tail was a Bomb for a second and that the twist was going to be it all explodes in glomgold's face. but alas

HUIDAEJIOJFAEIJF THE WAY SCROOGE IS JUST. CASUAL ABOUT IT like dammmm you guys were slow. the fact scrooge has just had a little setup out here i'm so. yeah let's prank glomgold

im so mad... its beautiful. ive heard comics scrooge vs dt.17 scrooge described as business scrooge vs family scrooge and if this isn't way to differentiate between the two of them. the adventure's over because Business glomgold.

sorry every serious comic person that may or may not be reading this because i am. not very serious especially right now but please know i have so much respect for these and cant wait to read more. except i have to do an assignment first. two assignments. four. school is kicking my behind right now thats part of why i'm late but i will catch up eventually. now time to go to sleep

OH WAIT THERES MORE COMIC hold on wait what if you see this while i'm editing no you don't. i can't believe i actually got juked by the fake ending. i will admit i have been coasting along for a bit now but Now i am invested

the way he spends multiple panels gloating about the gems specifically... both of them are so petty here and its beautiful

rooooolling giiiiirl sorry my legitimate first thoughts. i am having an era right now. yes glomgold chase your big gem frisbee

the way that they're dragging both of them out and away from each other. like alright folks. time to break it up here. you're gonna destroy the temple. and they do!

GLEEP!

okay now its the end. this comic has made me a fan of comic glomgold and thats what i'm going to say here. good night everyone i hope this is a great start to my beautiful comic journey

[obsessivelollipoplalala]

Thoughts on Merrily We Roll Along

In short: it's so fucking funny that it's advertised as this wholesome show about friendship when it's actually an incredibly bleak show about the erosion of friend groups lmaooo

Longer thoughts:

Lindsay Mendez wasn't playing Mary Flynn when I saw it--instead it was Jamila Sabares-Klemm. She was absolutely fantastic. I'm really glad she got time to shine on stage, because I thought she had a wonderful voice and was a top-notch actress. She was believable with the intense emotions, and she was incredibly funny. She should get a leading role on Broadway

Jonathon Groff and Daniel Radcliffe were also incredible. Once again, able to deliver the comedy and tragedy in the show with equal measure. Radcliffe was great as a sort of nervous Charley (he really nailed it with "Franklin Shephard, Inc."), and Frank is a really unlikable character in the beginning, so I think it speaks to Groff's performance that you want to stick with him and see how he got to that point

I love the storytelling device of telling the plot in reverse, because it makes the entire show sad without a constant barrage of explicitly sad songs; because we already know this story has an unhappy ending, the songs that are happy on a literal level are actually really bittersweet. It's a great way to tell a sad story without the whole show being a bummer, in one sense, but in another sense, I think seeing the super happy, hopeful scene at the end made the finale of the show much sadder than if the musical had ended with the scene that's actually at the end of the timeline, with Frank's life completely down the toilet, Mary as a dysfunctional alcoholic, and Charley having been cut off and out of the picture. I don't even consider this to be a spoiler, since this is literally the first scene of the musical lol

Relatedly, I liked how the musical reprises were in reverse. Sondheim talked about taking the same music and having it mean different things to characters at different points in their lives, and that's done really well in this show

Spoiler, I guess? But I love that Mary never told Frank how she felt. You're expecting some kind of emotional confession, and it never happens. That feels realistic. I also love that Mary never resented Beth, who was Frank's first love, and tried to look out for her when Gussie started to go after Frank.

The set was great, as was the book/dialogue written by George Furth that connected the songs. I think that this show could be hard to follow with weaker dialogue and songwriting, and I can kiiind of see why a rougher version of the show would fail (though I don't think the original version deserved to close so soon in '81). But as the show exists now, I was able to follow everything fine without having known much about it before walking into the theater

So yeah, I really enjoyed it. I thought these were well-written characters whose story was told in an interesting, unconventional way, and I think the execution was successful. Everyone in the cast was great, and I had a great time

[xxrainshadowsxx]

New Elite Chapter 8

So... there's angst here, and it's big here.

TW:  Abuse from a parent to their child. Starts at "Your mother holds herself in until the front door opens and closes" and goes until "Mr. Onceler doesn't let either one of you get another word out."

The next few days, you found yourself constantly on pins and needles. You had no idea if he was going to show up unannounced, or try and get a note to you somehow. You knew what was coming, and each day that nothing happened made you more and more nervous.

Finally, less than a week after the ball, Nellie came to deliver the morning post to your mother. As your mother fretted over something or another, Nellie gave you a meaningful look that you were able to decipher immediately. There was a note for you, and no prizes for guessing who it was from. It was time.

“Mother, I’m beginning to feel a bit of a headache coming on. I’m going to lie down for a while,” you murmur, though you’re unable to meet your mother’s eyes. You can’t afford to have her call you out on your bluff. 

Luckily, in your mother’s experience, headaches were very serious indeed, and you were forever glad you didn’t suffer them as often as she did. She gives you quick permission to lay down, and insists Nellie escort you to your room. Unwittingly, she’s giving you exactly what you want.

You and Nellie hasten to your room, and as soon as the door closes, she grabs a letter she’s hidden in the pockets of her dress. “It’s from him,” she whispers as she hands you the envelope.

You take it greedily and swiftly open it. You shake the letter open and are greeted by his now familiar elegant script.

Today, 2 o’clock in the afternoon, by the Queensboro Bridge. I’ll see you shortly.

Queensboro Bridge… that was going to be a bit of a walk. You lived on fifth avenue, just like the rest of your circle, and that was squarely in the center of the city. Queensboro Bridge might be the closest bridge to you, but it was still a fair bit out of the way.

But meet him there you would. You didn’t want him thinking you’d second guessed everything and were backing out last minute. Slowly, you look up at Nellie.

“I…” you trail off, almost unable to say what you know you need to do. You take a couple deep breaths to steady yourself. “I need you to help me leave the house without my mother noticing.”

Just saying the words left a bitter taste in your mouth. You’d always been a proper daughter, never getting into trouble. All of the famous “rebellious stage” had suddenly come to surface, culminating in you leaving the house under your mother’s nose to enter into an engagement she had not agreed to. The guilt of it all had yet to pass.

To her credit, Nellie doesn’t waste time offering advice or bringing down judgment. “Right,” she nods, a determined look on her face. “Give me about an hour, I’ll distract her with a question about how she wants to approach Christmas this year. With any luck, I’ll be able to steer her into the kitchen, which should give you an opportunity to leave.” You swallow heavily, then nod in assent.

The next hour is spent frantically getting you ready. What did one wear the day one became engaged? You were vain enough that you wanted him to like the way you looked. You settled on your favorite day dress, while Nellie gathered your hair in a simple but pretty hairstyle that she could easily fit a hat over. Before you knew it, it was time.

“Give me five minutes. That should give me enough of a chance to distract her. Good luck,” Nellie whispers before sliding into the hall. You wait the five minutes out, your only company, your rapid heartbeat, before leaving yourself into the blessedly deserted hallway.

Whatever Nellie had done to distract your mother seems to have worked; you meet no one on your way to the front door. Without giving yourself a chance to second guess everything, you slip out onto the streets of New York.

Even though you’ve lived in the city your whole life, you’re not as familiar as you’d like to be with navigating the city on foot. You get turned around several times, to the point where you start to fear you’ll miss your two o’clock deadline. It’s only by asking for directions a few times that you eventually make your way to your destination.

He’s already there when you arrive. He’s leaning over the railing, looking out over the river, a pensive look on his face. He’s so engrossed in his thoughts that he doesn’t even notice you until you clear your throat a few feet away from him.

He whips his head towards you, and a wave of visible relief washes over him. “For a moment, I was afraid you weren’t going to make it,” he murmurs as you come up to him and mimic his posture overlooking the water. “I was worried that maybe you got cold feet, or that your mother would get that note before you did.”

“No. Thankfully, our mail is sorted by our maid before my mother gets it,” you explain. “She knows everything that’s been going on, and I confess I could not have done this without her. Nellie’s a dear friend, the best I have.”

He responds with a wordless hum, then there’s silence. You both knew what was coming, but it was up to him to initiate it. You would wait this silence out until he broke it, no matter how uncomfortable you grew.

After a minute, he takes the plunge. He clears his throat a few times, and when you look over at him, you’re shocked to see his cheeks are dusted with a light shade of pink. You’d never seen him flustered but any measure before. It was quite endearing.

“I… I don’t know how you want me to do this,” he mutters lowly, his voice trembling ever so slightly. “Do you want a speech? I confess I haven’t prepared one, but I could come up with something–”

“No,” you cut him off. “I don’t need some big speech or dramatic gesture. I just… I want it to happen. I want to stop living a lie. I want to stop having to be passed around at events like I’m some kind of trophy. I want to start this with you. I’m ready.” For once, you actually believe what you’re saying. Surprisingly, this is the calmest you’ve felt since you first met him. You didn’t know what would come next, but you were as ready as you’d ever be to face it, and you knew he’d stand through any trial or tribulation with you.

“Alright,” he says, his voice getting a bit stronger. He draws himself up to his full height as he swallows heavily before pulling a case out of his pocket. He flicks it open, and there sits a lovely golden ring set with a single diamond. “Marry me,” he whispers.

The moment wasn’t like it was described in your favorite Austen and Brontë novels. There was no big declaration of love, which you were glad for; it would have felt disingenuous. And yet, you can’t stop the fluttering feeling in your stomach, nor the shot of glee that courses through you as he makes the offer to you.

“Yes,” you breathe out, unable to make your voice any louder. Though you knew it was coming, the moment was still overwhelming. Still, you felt more confident than ever that this was indeed the correct choice.

He smiles briefly as he gently takes your left hand and delicately pulls your glove off, one finger at a time. When your bare hand is free, he fits the ring over your fourth finger, where you stare at it in awe. It’s incredibly surreal, to the point where you fear it will disappear if you look away for even a single second.

He gives you back your glove, but you choose to keep it off, leaving your ring shown and obvious. Your mother would notice it immediately when you returned home, but you wanted her to. She would have to be told today, by you and him together, before she heard through the gossip grapevine.

As if reading your thoughts, as he eerily often did, Mr. Onceler offers his arm out to you. “Shall we go tell your mother?” he asks. “Or will she be inclined to murder me if I’m present for that conversation?”

You roll your eyes at him even as you start the long trek back home. “You do not get to get out of that,” you warn. “You knew my mother was going to be an obstacle the moment you decided to court me. You can’t avoid being with me to tell her now. You promised me that we would tell her together, and I’m afraid I’m going to hold you to your word, sir.”

He lets loose a light chuckle. “Don’t worry, if you want me there, I will be. I just don’t want our engagement cut short by my future mother-in-law’s wrath. I’d actually like to live through the fruits of my efforts.” The two of you walk in comfortable silence for a few minutes, and you find the walk much shorter now that you aren’t constantly stopping for directions. He seems to know exactly where he’s going.

“She’ll be livid, but she’ll do nothing more than throw angry words at us,” you murmur after a while. “Words are nothing I cannot handle. She initially won’t be pleased, you know that, but she’ll come around, especially once she has the reassurance that you will not be squandering your new-found wealth.”

“Good,” he sighs. “Despite my actions thus far, I have never wanted her as an adversary. I would have attempted to speak with her myself, but Matilda warned me that I would get nowhere with her. I was more than willing to eschew tradition if it meant getting what I wanted.”

You can’t help but notice the slight possessiveness in his tone. Despite his assurances that you were more than an object to him, he still very much thought of you as ‘his,’ that much was obvious. He had clearly been jealous that he had to share you with others, though you could not fathom why. He had said himself that there were no feelings of affection in your arrangement.

Your reminder to yourself that he had not courted you due to any burning passion hit you with something that felt like disappointment. But that was absurd. You’d known and agreed to his terms from the very beginning. And despite what Alice might think, you most certainly were not in love with him.

A small but vicious thought shoots through your mind, nagging at you until you acknowledge it. You may not be in love with him, but could you be in like with him?

The fact that you can’t answer that question with an immediate, resounding ‘no’ worries you.

You stay in your mind, lost wrestling with difficult questions, until he stops you abruptly. You’d reached your home without even realizing it. You take in a breath, shaky as it is. There was no stalling anymore. The storm had come, and you had no choice but to meet it head-on.

Keeping your hand firmly in his arm, you march up to your front door and open it quietly, stepping through the threshold with him in tow.

Nellie darts around the corner, and you’re startled to see her face is white as a sheet. “Miss,” she whispers desperately. “There’s a problem–”

“Nellie? Who’s at the door?” you hear your mother calling from the sitting room. For the first time in your life, Nellie fails to answer right away. Sensing that something was very wrong, but unwilling to let her get in trouble for your sake, you answer for her.

“It’s me, Mother,” you call as quietly as you can as you move towards the sitting room, holding up a finger to signal to Mr. Onceler to let you enter first.

You turn the corner and freeze. “Did you step out for a moment to get some air for your head?” your mother’s asking, but you barely hear her, because she’s not alone in the room. Sitting in front of her is none other than Thomas Hunte, whose head has swiveled to look towards you.

Never, not even in your worst nightmares, did you imagine you’d have to deal with this. This was what Nellie had been trying to warn you about. Not only were you going to have to break to your mother that you were already engaged to a man she loathes, but you’d also have to deny a courtship that she’d probably already agreed to with the son of one of New York’s most influential families. There was no chance the news of your scandal would go unnoticed for a while. You would be the subject of intense gossip for weeks.

“Dear? You know young Mr. Hunte. He’s expressed interest in courting you,” your mother beams, and you’re utterly speechless, unable to refute her.

But just as Thomas Hunte rises, presumably to speak to you, you feel a warm hand on the small of your back. “Unfortunately, that’s not going to be acceptable,” Mr. Onceler says with a pleasant enough tone, but there’s just a hint of a threat underneath it. “The young lady and I are engaged; you understand, of course, that a courtship would be utterly inappropriate.”

You couldn’t decide whose face was more absurd; Thomas Hunte, who had gone red from embarrassment and was standing there with a slack jaw, or your mother, who was also red, but that was from a mixture of anger and abject horror. Her mouth was making motions like she wanted to shout, but no sounds were coming out. Her line of sight darts to your hand, taking note of the ring on your finger.

Her eyes bulge, going up to your face. You knew from past experience that her temper had been ignited, and was on a short fuse that was moments away from blowing. To avoid collateral damage, you turn to Thomas Hunte. “I’m sorry you travelled all the way here, only to be met with disappointment, but my engagement is final. I wish you every happiness.” Despite his clear dismissal, he still seemed too dazed to act right away. It’s only when silence lingers for over a minute that he blinks several times, reaches for his hat, and just barely manages a hasty bow to your mother before ducking out. 

Your mother holds herself in until the front door opens and closes, then she turns her full attention to you. You tremble slightly under the weight of her stare, but hold your ground for the most part. “What have you done?” she hisses. Before you can answer, she rounds on Mr. Onceler.

“You!” she screeches. “You’ve taken my daughter in, hoodwinked her… you… you… you ruined her!”

Her implications dawn on you, and you jump to his defense. “Mother, no! He did not… I’m not with child. He has only ever acted honorably towards me.”

She looks at you like she almost doesn’t believe you. You let her slowly take in the reality that you had chosen this with no coercion or threat of being an unwed mother factored in. Her lower lip trembles before she speaks again. “What have you done?” she repeats in a whisper. “I did not raise you to be deceitful. This… this will destroy us. You know the importance of making a good marriage, and yet you still bandied about with… with him! How could you do this to me?”

And there it was. As much as you did believe she cared for you, her primary concern was for her own well-being, and you knew it always would be. You’re not angry at her for it, you simply pity her. She was raised as a product of her times, and she did not allow herself to be open-minded enough to change her views. “Mother, I did the best thing for us,” you say, trying your best to stay calm since she was in near hysterics. “He has more than enough to sustain not only me, but you as well. Our financial troubles will be solved.”

Her face blanches; the flippant way you spoke of your money woes has shocked her more than anything else so far. “He knows… you told him… oh, you stupid girl, how could you do this?!” She lunges for you like she wants to throttle you, but Mr. Onceler steps in between you, making it clear that he will be a firm protector should you require it.

“Madam, with all due respect, I will not allow you to lay a hand on my fiancée,” he snarls, eyes flashing dangerously. “Your vitriol is with me, not her. If you want a target for your anger, turn to me. Leave her out of this.”

“Do not speak to me,” she spits out venomously. “How dare you make an offer to my daughter? How dare you even look at my daughter? We are practically American royalty and you… you’re nothing. And you,” she turns back to you. “You will answer me why you threw yourself at him as though you were nothing more than a common whore.”

Her words stung more than you wanted to admit. You knew she’d be angry, but you never imagined she would launch such vulgar accusations at you. “Mother, just listen,” you plead. “I’m only thinking of us. He already has enough money stored away to support a family for life. We are not royalty. He is no different from us, no matter his upbringing. There is no guarantee that he will throw everything away. My father was from an old family, and he left us with nothing. Your father left you with nothing. I’m not ruining us, Mother. I’m saving us.”

Her stone eyes remain unchanged, even during your impassioned speech. “I would never have expected this of you,” she says, her tone the same as her eyes. “Sneaky, deceitful, disobedient… this is not the girl I raised. We had a plan. You were going to marry Mr. Hunte, and your life would be set.”

“No, it wouldn’t!” you shriek, finally losing your composure. “That would have been your life, lived vicariously through me. I am no fool, and I refuse to be controlled by you any longer. Your choices would have left us with nothing, and I shall not stay silent about it. This is my life, and I will not be your puppet.”

She staggers into a chair at your words, and for a fleeting moment, you think you might have managed to convince her. But then she looks up at you, and her expression is as icy as ever. “If you intend to continue this infantile fraternization, you’re no longer welcome in my house. Get out, and never darken my doorstep again, either of you.”

Tears prick at your eyes as your greatest fear begins to unfold before you. “Mother… please,” you whimper. “I don’t want to be estranged from you. You’re my mother. I love you.”

Her expression remains unchanged, and yet you still hold on to the faintest glimmer of hope that she might soften. “I have no daughter,” she lashes out instead, breaking both your hope and your spirits.

You can’t hold back your tears any longer as you throw yourself down on your knees at her feet. “Mother, can we please talk? I did this for us, we will be safe–”

You’re cut off abruptly as she turns and strikes you across the face, causing you to fall to the ground. Before you can even process what just occurred, Mr. Onceler’s arms are around you, helping you to your feet and forming a protective cage around you. “I told you not to touch her,” he growls.

“I care not!” your mother wails. “You are beneath me, I shan’t listen to a word you say. Take her, if you still want her, disgraced as she is. I’ll have nothing to do with either of you for the rest of my days, I swear it.”

Mr. Onceler doesn't let either one of you get another word out. With an air of finality, he takes you and leads you out of the house, while still somehow remaining gentle with you. Tears still stream steadily down your face, and yet at the same time, you're almost numb. Even now, you're not quite sure what just happened. 

It's not until you're outside and feel the soft touch of snowflakes hitting your face that you're able to move on your own. The snow confuses you; it hadn't been doing that before. But you look up, and sure enough a light flurry is falling down, far too beautiful a thing for the wound that had just been wrenched through your heart.

“She… she doesn't want me anymore,” you whisper, and by hearing it out loud, that gravity of what she'd done fell on you all at once, almost sending you to your knees. Hysteria overtakes you, and you cling to Mr. Onceler, the only lifeline that's available to you right now. He stumbles backwards a bit, no doubt a bit surprised by you throwing yourself into him, but he recovers quickly enough. He holds you and says nothing; he just lets you weep into the lapel of his jacket.

You can't tell how long you linger on the doorstep. You don't care that you're causing a scene, likely making your scandal worse. All you care about it getting a shred of comfort in the midst of your insurmountable grief, and his hand, which moves methodically up and down your back, is doing the job. You don't think you could survive if he stopped.

Eventually, you exhaust yourself to the point where you pull away from him, face stinging from the tears that continue to leak at irregular intervals. Your throat burns, and you're desperate for something to drink, but it doesn't look like that's an option at the moment: unbeknownst to you, you've somehow ended up in the backseat of a taxicab.

“W-where are we going?” you rasp. Even this simple sentence made your throat sting even worse. You decide to say as little as possible for the time being.

“Somewhere safe,” he murmurs while glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, probably to see if you're going to lose your composure again. “I'm not taking you to my home, however. That'll just further rumors that you're pregnant. We still want to take as much of the moral high ground as we can.”

Almost against your will, you can't help but notice that he sounds either angry or annoyed. You didn't know him well enough to differentiate those two moods of his yet. Either one was hardly a good sign for you, though. “I'm sor–” you begin before he cuts you off.

“Good Lord, what are you saying sorry for?” he asks incredulously. “You did nothing wrong, and I'll not have you thinking you did.” As he speaks, the vehicle comes to a halt. “We've arrived. Let's go.”

He steps out first before offering you his hand. You take it and stumble out, still a little unsteady on your feet. He puts his arm around you without a word, as you duck your head in an effort to avoid being recognized. He leads you to the front door of a lovely house, and the door opens almost the second he knocks.

“Heavens, child, what did you do to her?” The voice is familiar to you, but you can't quite place it through the fog of your barely held back torment. But as you're led through the entrance, you're able to force your eyes to look up and see Mrs. Ryan, who's examing you with great concern. You sigh in relief. He could have brought you to no better place.

“I did nothing. Dorothy was… less than understanding,” he evades. “Do you have ice? I want to get something for her face.”

Your face? Oh, right. Your mother had hit you. You bring your hand up to where your mother had struck, but you almost immediately withdraw, wincing. Your face stung more than you initially realized.

“I'll get her cleaned up,” Mrs. Ryan promises. “As for you, make yourself scarce. The poor girl just lost everything for you. You'll just confuse her right now. I'll take it from here.” Her tone left no room for argument. 

And yet, even as she leads you away, you can't help but look back at your fiancé, wishing he and the inexplicable comfort he brought would be remaining with you.

[kagayakuseiza]

So I finished the Netflix live action AtLA last night... it wasn't terrible. The original is still better, of course. Cue string of disorganized thoughts on it...

Is it just me, or does the actor playing Sokka in live action look more like the Ember Island Players version of Sokka than the actual Sokka? Did anyone else get that impression?

One of the first things I noticed was when we got a herd of CGI flying bison, they were blurred into the background and/or obstructed by light beams, so I immediately wondered if they were going to be trying to cover up bad CGI throughout the series. Buuuuut when we see Appa up close as Aang is talking to him, he actually looks decent. CGI Momo on the other hand... he looks very similar to how he did in the cartoon, and that's the problem with him. He looks out of place in the live action series.

The bending effects actually look pretty good. This, coupled with actors that have actually trained in martial arts, makes for decent fight scenes... though I'm probably not the best judge of that.

Not as many fun moments as the original... I guess they were going for a more serious tone, but it did still manage to make me laugh at times. I was glad that they kept in Cabbage Man, and the minstrels that sing the secret tunnel song.

I didn't like how they changed Bumi... Rather than messing with Aang for fun while delivering his message, he just... forces him into a duel to the death to try to teach him about making impossible decisions. Granted, it ends well, but still... eh, just didn't like how that was done, and the points that were made (war requiring impossible choices and Aang knowing that he can rely on his friends) were points that were made at other points in the series, so it just didn't feel necessary to change that part.

Another thing that kind of bugged me was that although Katara still wears her iconic necklace, its significance is not at all mentioned, which is disappointing. So Pakkun changing his mind about women water bending doesn't come from the realization that Katara's Gran Gran was the woman he loved, who left the northern water tribe. Noooo, instead, they have this series go out of its way to say "look how amazingly feminist we are!" Like... the anti-sexism message was clear in the original, and it came across more naturally. This version feels like they're trying too hard to drive home the point.

There were some changes that I actually liked though. Zuko's outburst during the war meeting where he protests the plan to sacrifice the 41st division is there with different dialogue but the same point. But having Ozai then send them with Zuko in his exile saying he can have the 41st division if he's so concerned about them was a nice touch. As Iroh notes, they are alive because of Zuko's sacrifice.

Sooo... as far as live action remakes go, it's ok. On a scale of 1 to 10, with 1 being Dragon Ball Evolution, and 10 being the Netflix live action One Piece, I would give this maybe a 6 or 7. The original is better, but this version still has the same core story so far, and it doesn't suck.

As a side note, I know that one of the reasons for live action remakes is to reach the segment of the audience who simply won't watch something if it's animated. And just... can we please kill the ridiculous stigma that says "cartoons are for kids"??? Animation is simply the best medium for some stories, and it is absolute ludicrous that the medium of a story's portrayal would be what determines what demographic should be watching it. Japan seems to get this; if only the west did, too.

[thegeminisage]

i don't know how i'm supposed to simply do a tng update when there was SPOCK but obviously last night (tonight as i type this, but it's late, so this post is going up while i'm at work) we watched unification part i & part ii

tng update:

🌈SPOCK🌈

okay, i'm normal again

part i: BITTERLY disappointed that all we got out of this episode spockwise was one blurry photo and him coming in right at the end. i had a feeling they'd do that. i guess now i have to talk about the nonimportant nonspock parts of this episode 🥱

ive decided i hate sarek's new wife. what business is it of hers if spock objects to sarek in public? if sarek didn't have a problem with it why make one? evil stepmother fr. why did sarek marry another human anyway does he have a fucking fetish or something...at least she was too old to get knocked up. i was reading about ages on the wiki today and amanda was only TWENTY YEARS OLD when she had spock. sarek would have been 65. i know vulcans age way different so it's not as creepy but STILL. girl, wait until you are old enough to drink

speaking of sarek...i went back and forth feeling terrible for him and wanting to attack him with my bare hands. under one hand he is on his deathbed and obviously very ill and miserable and suffering deep regrets over past mistakes and it's hard not to have sympathy...on the other, maybe if you wanted less deathbed regrets about your relationship with spock YOU SHOULD HAVE TREATED HIM BETTER! bitch.

also, whatever he and picard had going on was homoerotic. "we're part of each other" why do they talk about the mind meld that way in tng and not in tos. why did picard feel up sarek's hand on his deathbed the second his wife looked away. hes got a history of homewrecking since he (i know) had his affair baby wesley with beverly. so Whats Going On

picard forcefully obtaining the klingon ship. i LOVE when he gets to be a bitch

ROMULAN RACEFAKING??? a proud star trek tradition at this point i guess but it was truly awful to behold. DEEPLY disappointed sela did not later lick the paint off his ears as the klingons implied she would. smh

i like also how riker blew up that whole ship and nobody batted an eyelash. he really can just do whatever

part ii: SPOCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

the first time i cried was when spock himself came onscreen at the end of part i. then just as soon as i collected myself he mentioned jim kirk twice in the space of 30 seconds and i lost it again. we are literally bridging the gap between tos spock and spock prime from aos rn and i Dont like it.

Very Sad his dad kicked it before they could reconcile. but i saw his microexpressions when picard delivered the news. i missed them more than you can possibly imagine

i did love though that he started viewing picard as like a proxy sarek. imagine having daddy issues with a guy who is 75 years younger than you. lowkey they also had a little homoeroticism happening. "cowboy diplomacy" sure whatever

riker and the four-armed pianist 10/10 i hope they fucked. i'm so glad we wont he riker roulette and it wasn't creepy. also only riker could successfully flirt with a women after killing her husband in a spaceship battle <3

i'm a little iffy on spock's uhhh whole deal in this episode. he's lik yeah i chose the vulcan way of life these romulans are gonna have way better lives after their vulcan enlightenment but meanwhile he's criticizing sarek for his obsession with logic to the exclusion of all emotion (which is what he decided in tmp, that you need both) and also the vulcan way of life has done huge damage to his relationship with his father as well. so which is it?? idk, maybe he's not doing well because of sarek dying and all but he seemed like he was in a very "im not willing to acknowledge that i have emotions because rn theyre causing me pain" sort of mood. buddy :(

then again, it IS a tng script. we can only expect so much. it wasn't so inconsistent that it took me out of the episode but it did bother me a little because i just don't understand why he's willing to devote the rest of his life to this cause...he seemed to imply he had emotional reasons but what were they?? we will quite literally never know.

what's wack to me also is that in nineteen years romulus is gonna be GONE. like it's just going to be gone. eaten up by the sun or whatever. if someone had a baby right now on romulus that baby would not be old enough to drink before the sun swallowed them. so everything spock is doing is for nothing.

sela in this episode was really funny. "i hate vulcans." so true queen. i mean i don't care about her at all but that was hilarious

data doing the vulcan nerve pinch!!!!!!! that was so fun. i don't think it requires telepathy to do, just super strength, but i guess if you do then that makes no sense. it made me happy though.

the end when spock melded with picard to quasi-meld with his father and almost wept was me crying for the third time...i couldn't stand seeing him cry!!!!!! i can't believe sarek really just died without ever reconciling with him but i kind of like it better this way bc what sarek did was his own fault not spock's. so spock got closure and sarek. didn't. rip dude

okay. this concludes. the SPOCK UPDATE. tonight: a matter of time. and TOMORROW........the undiscovered country. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[vitis-verse]

Doman Refugees and Ul'dah

Today was not supposed to be particularly special or unusual. Accompanying Alphinaud to speak with refugees seeking asylum was not anything that'd be out of the norm – and it lasted that way up until the moment that Lauriam approached Yugiri in Ul'dah.

Her back was to Lauriam as she spoke to the guards, and that gave him plenty enough time to get a good look. Her tail. It wasn't a miqo'te tail, no, it was pale and ridged with scales just like his own.

Lauriam's heart beat faster as he cast his mind back. Had he seen anyone like him since the day his parents left? He could not recall coming face to face with a single other Au Ra in his journeys across Eorzea. There was a strange excitement to it.

When she turned around, Lauriam expected to see more sights familiar to him from glimpses in a mirror – horns, scales spread over cheekbones and along the neck, eyes with a ring that caught the light a little too brightly.

He saw precisely none of these things. Her hood showed only the loose shape of horns, her cowl hid her scales, and a thin veil over her eyes obscured those too. Only her tail remained as a clear sign.

It stung like some sort of rejection, and he fought to stifle that reaction – it wasn't as though he knew her reasons, they could be cultural or religious.

(Lauriam, unfortunately, felt another theory was far more likely.)

—------- [PoV pivot] ---------

It did not take a genius to at least guess why Lauriam had taken a backseat during their introduction to Yugiri. Brain noticed her tail immediately – and as familiar as he was with Lauriam's, he need not glance to compare.

When he next turned towards Lauriam, his partner's face was guarded, eyeing Yugiri with something less than fully pleasant in his expression. Brain had hoped that meeting another Au Ra would be nice for Lauriam, but he was clearly bothered by the experience. 

Brain did not need to wait overly long to understand why. 

It was Alphinaud that brought it up first, as delicately as a blunt question could be delivered. Yes – why should Yugiri plead her case while covering nearly every ilm of her body? Lauriam had also worried that hiding much of his face would seem suspicious in Coerthas and had asked Brain to take the lead in social interactions, but that was very specifically because –

Oh.

Yugiri neatly folded her hands in her lap. “Men are wont to fear the unfamiliar. We know this from experience.” She lowered her head. “We seek only to spare the people of Ul’dah unnecessary disquiet.”

The moment that followed was distinctly uncomfortable. Brain didn't need Lauriam's variant of the Echo to feel the negative emotions bubbling up in his partner – and for one moment, he thought that Lauriam may just stand and leave the table.

He would not blame him if he had. 

Brain suspected that Yugiri hadn't had reason to speak with very many other Au Ra in her day to day life, that the words that just left her mouth were crafted with the intent to calm those unlike her. 

Yugiri snapped her head up to look in Lauriam's direction. “Forgive me, I did not –.”

“It's fine.”

Brain's Echo labeled that as a lie, but the rest of the table could surely tell as well – yet it was also a clear request to drop that mess and move on. 

Brain couldn't help but continue to wince internally – and feel the faint burning of an anger born of love and protectiveness. Lauriam needn't “spare” anyone from seeing his face, any discomfort caused by it was solely that person's problem. (He rather thought it was a privilege to look at his partner, but that was his own bias.)

Coerthas was… a bit different, so specific, but Brain still hated Lauriam feeling like being directly looked at was a danger. He could only be glad that they had a friend in Haurchefant – that someone in Coerthas knew what Lauriam looked like outside of the heavy winter gear and had no qualms or accusations.

Brain hated to see his partner so out of sorts. Lauriam clearly didn't want to talk about his younger years, had only recently disclosed the mere existence of his past living on the fringes of Ul'dah, but it was obvious that he felt very… personally about the whole matter. Despite the awkwardness with Yugiri, Lauriam was prompt and earnest about helping the refugees in any way he could – looking bitterly frustrated at the Syndicate’s unwillingness to assist, even if he didn't look surprised.

Brain took his hand as they walked through the streets, tracing the shape of scales on the back of Lauriam's hand. They spoke to merchants to have food delivered at Momodi’s behest – one of the few Ul'dahns Lauriam truly seemed warm to – and while they consented, their responses were less than kind. They parroted remarks that were not new or unique in Ul'dah. That children were one thing, but adults that couldn't afford food didn't deserve it, or that the refugees shouldn't be helped lest they get entitled.

The pleasant smile remained on Lauriam's face and he spoke no words of disagreement, but his hand went painfully tight on Brain's for a moment every time.

[kjwald]

Banana Fish (ep. 2, 9, 11, 24)

HUH?! I thought this was a BL anime but apparently it isn't? Everyone on every social media platform said this was BL but it seems that it just has implications of these boys liking each other romantically, but not actually. I feel like a lot of animes do this - a guy admires another guy, seemingly romantically but not. I think this is due to the more conservative side of Japan, but I do not want to generalize. I guess a lot of people kind of forced this idea about these characters, or it just seems like the way they talk about each other seems like a love story.

One thing I do not like about this anime is the amount of perversion. It is good that the perverts were portrayed in a disgusting light, and I think that it raises awareness towards how people pervert and eroticize homosexuality and how wrong it is. However, there was also a lot of sexualization of the characters by the artists/animators when it was not necessary. For example, they way they were dressed, the skin exposed at times, their positions, etc. I think that while the anime was trying to convey how immoral perversion is, the characters were still sexualized. This is another thing that I often see in anime: the creators trying to take a stance against something but then indirectly doing what they were against. Actually, I should not just direct this to anime because a lot of different kinds of media does this. I wrote about this in my essay for Zom 100, because the animators, I believe, took a stance against sexualization of women; however, the camera angles and clothing choices made by the animators/artists/creators say otherwise. I think that there needs to be more care and consideration put into delivering messages and the way that they are done so.

Also, I am pretty confused as to what Ash's and Eiji's relationship was though. Like how did they meet and why did they hit it off? I think that the first episode probably established that but I do not want to have to look it up. Anyway, it was interesting how Ash saved Eiji and not his best friend - like how valuable is Eiji to Ash? I also do not really understand the relationship between Ash and that old man that owned him but then saved him in the end? Perhaps I got the characters confused? If someone reblogs this, please explain!

Anyway, I knew that Banana Fish was sad, because people often talk about how they cry because of this anime, but wow, that was quite a depressing ending. I had already cried from watching Grey's and One Tree Hill today, so this was just the cherry on top. The intro to the last episode almost foreshadowed what was going to happen. It seemed like a lot of memories that Ash had flashes across the screen, specifically his relationships, just like how your memories replay in your mind when you die, so I could tell just from the intro that Ash would pass away. In episode 9 or 11 (I cannot remember which), someone also called Eiji Ash's achilles heel, conveying how Ash (or someone) would die. I cannot believe Eiji does not even know about his death, expecting to see him again. As sad as it is that Eiji and Ash could not be together, I am glad that Ash died in that library (I mean, it is traumatizing for whoever finds his dead body), because that was where he was away from all the violence and the killing (the aspect of himself that he disliked). He got to be the person he wanted to be when he died - peaceful and loved.

In the end, I like the message about how people can be so different, yet when you really think about it, we are all the same. No matter what race, gender, career, etc., although we may have different experiences of cultures, we are all human beings that want to be loved, to love, and to be happy.

[skayafair]

S3 Ep 62 Thou Winter Wind

Ned didn't want Sam to go with ISPHA in the first place. He tried to warn Sam about them but was frozen mid-word. And now he's digging into them. I wonder what both parties do NOT say. And I do not envy the Searchers team. Both Ned and ISPHA either lie or didn't tell thewhole truth, so the team gets caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. And they still aren't any closer to finding Anna. I have a feeling the team is going to either fall apart soon or leave the Institute. I'm glad the feeling of distrust wasn't just me though. Again, like with Maria's story, it isn't shoved into your face but delivered rather subtly at first and gets said directly a few times, but mostly I think one COULD believe the illusion everyone was on board with ISPHA. A good writing.

That aside, Sam keeps staying silent about the accident with the park service worker. Her disappearance came up on radio months later and he still didn't say anything. He did look off because Maria asked what's wrong, but just waved her off with "a lot on my mind". I like Sam and don't understand why the other team members feel uneasy around him despite their will. He's their friend or at least a good acquaintance and they care about him - Kate noticed he hasn't been sleeping much or at all lately, so she was worried for him, - and yet even Bill describes being around Sam like sitting next to a ticking bomb. This podcast is VERY good with delivering just the right emotions, making the audience dance to its tune, so I wonder what my disconnect here means. That I'm more in line with Sam than with "normal" people? As if that needed a confirmation… or it's a conscious writing choice. I guess I'll see.

But that being said, I hope the fact that he hid that woman's disappearance will come and bite him in the ass. One just DOESN'T conceal such important things. He had a talk about it with Jerry for fuck's sake. I can understand this behavior. "They'll leave me if I tell them". Sam is probably sure the team will consider him too unstable, unreliable, too much of a threat, and leave. And he needs their help - hell, he needs them, period, no matter how much he complains about not being able to get some alone time. Plus there's already his guilt for the whole Agate Shore mess and Allen's death in particular. And, prior to that, his parents'. Now this woman just disappeared because he freaked out and his powers acted out of control. Sure, later he learnt to control them better, got some field experience with Amanita and so on, so it should be not that easy to make him freak out like that again, but… There's always a possibility. He already tries to use every minute he has to either hone his skills or to work on tapes, and that reads to me as an attempt to atone for all those deaths he didn't want to happen but couldn't help becoming their cause, or to hide from the guilt. One way or another, the guilt is there and I think it's eating him up. So… I can understand why he keeps that accident a secret. Understand, but not excuse, and I'm not going to. I think when it happens, it's going to hit him HARD. Oh boy. I with it didn't have to be this way.

[sinnerclair]

guys!! im planning on rewriting this story from 2021 and i need some tips on what yall think i should change (oh and PLS help me decide when I'm supposed to do paragraph breaks, 2021 me had no idea how to so thanks <333) (oh and different word choice, grammar correction, and other edits are very much appreciated thx!!)

A few days had passed since the Dreamcatcher had gone missing from its tracks. Newspapers went wild with the news; some described it as the "oddest case in all of industrialism".

No traces of the train were discovered, and odd enough, neither was the 'tunnel' the locomotive had entered moments before its fate. No bodies have been discovered, so it's not yet plausible that anybody is dead. There could've been a possibility the train was derailed; considering the large explosion heard miles away.

Slamming papers on a desk, Detective Burns glared into the eyes of a cowering young man, Madison Smith, who had been a suspect for quite some time in the wild-goose chase. He was one of the four mere people who witnessed the train before it took off to go north.

"Where was the train heading?" Her tone slithered, still staring directly into his eyes.

Madison did not respond. He was trembling; highly intimidated by the way he was being interrogated. Finally, in a warbly voice, he responded.

"W-Well," He swallowed his fear, "the train was headed towards Ellsworth, Ma'am…" The tremble still laced his voice.

"Ellsworth, hm?" She stopped leaning on the desk with her arms and went to a map which promptly was illuminated by a weak but decently lit lamp.

She grabbed a red pin and placed it directly on what was labelled ELLSWORTH, grabbing a string of the same colour, attaching it to the pin and roping it around another pin that was put on top of the train's starting point; Norfolk.

Madison stared nervously at Detective Burns, who had returned her stare.

"How many people were on the train including the conductor?"

"…Thirty," Madison replied.

The detective wrote quite quickly in her small journal, occasionally glancing up at Madison to glare at him.

Edward hacked up dust out of his throat, squinting at what was in front of him. There was barely anything visible due to the excessive fog; but by what he could make out, he was in some sort of western town.

He coughed up more of the dust that had entered his mouth, as he looked around for the group he had been with before the train mysteriously dropped him off here.

Due to the fog, there was barely anybody visible. Edward stood up and dusted off his overcoat and stared out into the prolonged, deserted path. He couldn't find the Dreamcatcher anywhere. Where had it gone, and how did he end up here? Where was everyone?

Eventually, violent coughing was heard behind him. He immediately jerked his head back and glared in the direction. There was a familiar figure standing up. Charlie Taylor.

He was surprised but also relieved. The most relaxed of the current group, Charlie was found to be a helpful source of information; whether it be directions to a certain town or city, or what was the nearest post office to drop off a letter.

Even though those skills weren't necessarily useful around here, he still proved a good sign that everything was going to be okay. Charlie noticed Edward and rushed over.

"Oh thank the heavens- I thought I was abandoned into this desert wasteland." He said, relief coated in his gentle tone.

"I thought I was too. But, I'm glad you're here." Edward's tone was more grave, but he didn't seem as cold or harsh as he presented to be on the train.

Nobody else seemed in view. Charlie slung his bag off his shoulder and stared mournfully at the papers. Edward seemed unamused.

"Don't worry. I'm sure you'll have an excuse for delivering them late. We're both deserted here." He put a hand on Charlie's shoulder.

Shame still lingered in Charlie's eyes as he stared silently at Edward. He sighed and looked away, "…I guess."

"Do you think we should look for the others? I mean, there were 5 of us. The other 3 must be around here somewhere." Edward responded.

"Yeah. If you're here and I'm here, then the others shouldn't be too far. Where should we look first?"

"Down this road. Perhaps they were dropped off along the roadside here."

Charlie nodded and began walking. Edward followed shortly behind.

As they traversed the long trail, mosquitos nipped at their necks. The hot sun blinded them and made their journey quite difficult to continue.

20 minutes passed and they still couldn't find anyone along the line where the road met sand. They were beginning to lose hope.

Charlie's facial expression began to droop as he felt as if their efforts to find the others were proving useless.

Edward, on the other hand, didn't express much emotion. He kept squinting as the sun bashed their vision harshly.

Edward and Charlie had been walking for a while, their legs beginning to ache. Charlie had decided to cease his movement.

"How long have we been walking?" Charlie asked. He was exhausted by his strained tone of voice. Edward only responded with a slight turn of his head.

Eventually, fast footsteps were heard as a figure began to slightly reveal itself in the distance. Edward and Charlie immediately looked over.

Once the person got close enough, they were identifiable. It was a young man with pale, sun-deprived skin and neck-length black hair that was covered somewhat by a large fedora overshadowing most of his face.

"Claude?" Edward inquired.

"You're Edward, I assume?"

"Yes."

Charlie did not speak. He was quite intimidated by the presence of Claude. He proved to be a good man, but something about him rattled an uneasy feeling throughout Charlie's body.

Claude noticed this uncomfortable feeling located in Charlie's expression.

"Is something wrong, perhaps?" He shifted his eyes to meet Charlie's.

This only worsened the feeling as Charlie cowered to the safety behind Edward. He seemed as confused as Claude was.

"There's no reason to be afraid, Charlie. I'm not one of those Northerners."

Charlie was from the South--Louisiana to be exact. He had met many people from the North, and all of them nearly caused his fate.

He still stood there, clutched onto Edward's overcoat as he stared upon Charlie with a concerned expression.

Claude sighed and gave up.

[loiswolf]

Day 36 July 4 Raymore - Melville 144kms

Unfortunately today was not quite the joyride I anticipated. I guess it wasn’t too bad. Leaving at eight I had to turn left after a couple of kms to head east for about 40kms. The wind had turned slightly and was now blowing from the northwest. It wasn’t really hindering me but it wasn’t helping either.

The clouds ahead looked a little ominous.

It had been raining during the night and the morning was quite cool. I already had Pinky on when I was hit by the odd light shower. Pinky hasn’t been out of her sac for a long time. My main concern has been protecting myself from the sun for the past few weeks. On Saturday it was 30°.

So the first 40kms were probably the usual pace. Dishearteningly slow when you know there are another 100kms to cover.

Not on the map below is a First Nations town called Muskowekwan. There was a service station there with a convenience store. I was ready for my break after 40kms so I stopped. They had coffee and a picnic table outside so I took about 15 minutes out before getting back on the road.

The next 40kms were easier as the wind was behind me on and off. This incredibly long goods train had stopped so I was able to take a photo then measure it.

It was 2.2kms long! It was blocking 3 level crossings and the last 200m it was overlapped by the Via Rail passenger train. This was the train I was possibly going to take from Saskatoon to Winnipeg. A couple of my more wealthy friends had recommended the train as a luxurious experience. Anna ( who I met at Saskatoon) had taken it from Toronto to Saskatoon in the economy section. She spent four days on the train, sleeping with a carriage full of snorers who were unable to shower as there were no facilities to wash. They only had access to limited food options as they were not permitted in the dining carriage. It ran 7 hours late as is has to give way to the good trains. I too would have been travelling economy so I’m kind of glad I dodged that bullet. Incidentally I received an email back from Via Rail today informing me that Shirley would have had to be either boxed or bagged. ( I’m not sure if she would have been eligible for the bag.). Last night I was also treated to the regular passing of the goods trains which didn’t bother me….the very loud train whistle/horn did. They have to sound the horn every time because they are approaching a level crossing.

Anyway, I was able to bypass the cars waiting to cross the railway because I was continuing straight ahead to Ituna. It definitely seemed quicker to my lunch stop at Ituna but I was really looking forward to the last leg.

Ituna was another dead old town with a very ordinary cafe. I didn’t want any of the lunch options ( too heavy) but was keen for the French toast or pancakes from the breakfast menu. Nope! It was too late for breakfast ( even though I saw him deliver omelettes to another table) so I just had coffee again. The motel last night had kindly left 3 muesli bars with the coffee maker so I was able to sneak a couple of these out of my bag and have them for lunch.

Still 55kms to go I was keen to get going. If you look at the map you’ll see it was virtually a straight line from Ituna to Melville and it was exactly going the same way as the wind. Yay!. Didn’t I work that out well?

The road today hadn’t been totally boring. There were even some hills in the first leg. The last 55kms had little towns to look at about every 10kms. They were the usual rundown ghost towns but some of them had a couple of well kept homes.

I’ve noticed all the churches here seem to have these minaret type structures on top.

Another thing to look at were the dams, the tumbledown sheds and the different colours of the crops again.

In no time I was at Melville. I should have checked where the shops were before riding ahead through the town which had nothing much at all. I had to loop around to the highway to find the supermarket and get something for afternoon tea, dinner and dessert.

Then I returned to my motel which is pretty much the cheapest place I’ve stayed in so far. It’s actually pretty good. It has all the essentials….except maybe good enough wifi to post this.

[msookyspooky]

Sequels Suck

Part 13

word count: 3,507

"...Yeah….No way, the call yesterday was definitely not a prank...Yes, I'm positive!" 

You had called Dewey to hand the phone over to Chief Hartley yesterday to run an ANI on the location. You listened on the phone as they delivered the news. You deflated. You knew it wasn't going to be a cellphone or private address but you still had to try.

"Okay, thank you...Yeah, okay I appreciate it...Bye." 

Hallie glanced over at you as she got ready for the day. "What did they say?" 

You rubbed your face with a heavy sigh. "Payphone on Campus. The one near the old art building in the back."

"Well, that solves everything. It's just one of the 2000 students or faculty here." She sarcastically gave while adjusting her necklace. 

"Yeah, tell me about it...At least I'm getting two Detectives to guard me. They should be here soon." 

"Damn, bodyguards? Feeling special yet?" 

"Oh yeah, like Royalty." You smirked at the snort of laughter she gave as you put on your jacket. A twinkle out of the corner of your eye directed your attention to your bed. Glancing down to see a necklace lying on your unmade sheet 

You picked it up. "Hey, where did this come from?" 

Hallie looked guilty as she clutched her crochet shrug on her shoulders. "Sorry, I was looking for my butterfly necklace I let you borrow the other night. You forgot to give it back and I really needed it for an outfit... I didn't intend on invading your privacy." She cringed. "I hope you're not mad! I wanted to just ask you but I barely saw you last night." 

You didn't like her rummaging through your suitcase but you knew she meant nothing by it. You didn't have anything to hide and even in a 2 week period she had become the closest thing to a friend you had. Other than Randy, of course. 

 "It's okay...Why is this necklace out though?" 

"I guess I wanted to...Be a nosy ass bitch and ask." She gave a sheepish smile as you eyed it.  "I didn't open it! I just...It's a locket. That's so old school. I was wondering if it was a boyfriend or?-" 

You huffed at that. "Hardly. James wasn't sentimental enough for something like this." You smiled at her as it dangled in your hand. "It's a gift. Sidney gave it to me...She was an old soul, that's for sure." 

It was simple and dainty with a round locket. Daisies were engraved on the outside. It was something she found at a yardsale with Tatum and she instantly wanted you to have it considering you gave her a book the week prior. 

You clicked it open, slowly revealing a picture of you and her the first month or so of your friendship. Two young innocent girls smiling and leaning against one another on the bleachers for a basketball game Tatum was cheering at. Stu insisted on taking the photo with an expensive '96 model Canon camera his parent's got him as a way to show it off…Little did you know, he was conspiring murder the entire time.

 None of you had any idea of what was to come. Between James in July of that year to Billy and Stu roughly three months later. You smiled sadly; running your thumb over it as memories came back to you. You would give anything to go back. Back to the beginning of that Summer when everything was simple and your friendships felt like forever. To a time where you were still an innocent teen, not a young woman that couldn't see a knife without the images of Sidney's lifeless eyes staring at you as blood pooled around her body. 

Hallie had a hand over her chest and her brows turned up. "Oh sweetie, I'm sorry...I shouldn't have asked-" 

You shook your head, realizing how quiet you were as you gently shut the locket. "No…" You sadly smiled at her. "No, I'm glad you did. I forgot I even packed this...I'll wear it. For good luck." 

Hallie nodded, softly smiling. "She'd probably like that." 

You put it on, holding it in your fingertips. It felt like her. You were forever grateful she gave it to you and that Stu took the photo; no matter what his true intentions were. Who would have thought it would be one of the last things you'd have of her in your life?...

You thought to yourself. 'Sidney, help me kick their asses and end this shit for the last time.' The image of her fighting Billy as you fought Stu. You, Sidney and Tatum were fighters in your own way...You were just sadly more caught up in your heart for those two then they were...

You jumped out of your skin as the phone rang. It was starting to become a trigger all over again. 2 years of therapy going down the drain with what was happening in your life.

Hallie glared at it. Grumbling to herself as she marched over. "I swear to God I'm getting this number changed-" 

She yanked it up to her face before you could even respond. "Who is this? It's 7 in the damn morning so this better be important." 

You watched her face fall and prepared yourself. Subconsciously clutching Sidney's locket in your hand as Hallie looked at you before talking. Her mouth open and eyes wide. 

"Oh...Mr. Fitch! I'm so sorry I uh-" 

You quickly went to answer as she pointed to the phone in her hand with a cringe.

"...Hello?" You took the phone as Hallie walked away to let you talk to your therapist.

"YN?" 

"Yes? Hi, Henry. Sorry I haven't been very active lately. I had to call my family today from the hospital to let them know I was okay. They were worried sick...I'm not much into phone calls right now." 

"Are you alright?" 

"Yeah, it wasn't for me. But...I had a close call. I really am sorry for not touching base with you. Kind of preoccupied...I'm sure you've heard of the murders." 

"I have...It's worrisome to me when it comes to your mental health as well as your safety, YN, can you tell me how you're doing? Are you okay?" 

You forced a smile. Forcing your voice to be as pleasant as you could. "I'm fine. Really. Aside from the murder, of course." 

He hesitated a moment. "And...No hallucinations or fear for your safety?" 

"...Henry, I'm being targeted by a killer." You gave a disbelieving face to Hallie in the other room as she raised a brow from the doorway. 

"So, you haven't seen anyone there that your friends claim isn't?" 

You frowned. "Henry, what do you mean?" 

 "...YN, I'm going to be frank with you. It's my legal duty to alert authorities over any dangerous activity. Such as you threatening to kill yourself or someone else." 

You blinked repeatedly with an odd expression on your face. "Um..What uh...What are you saying, Henry?" 

"YN, I had an anonymous tip that you have been having hallucinations and lashing out at others." 

Your mouth dropped. "...WHAT?" 

"Now, I know you are going through a lot; more than I can even help you with until these killers are caught...But the person that called me said you were acting dangerously. Possibly even a threat to yourself or others because of your hallucinations of...Billy Loomis and Stu Macher. That you said you would kill yourself before letting them kill you." 

You shot up from the seat. "Who told you this!? Was it Gale Weathers?! Was it...Was it some random person on campus trying to ruin my life even more because of that stupid movie?! How do you know it wasn't the killer themselves?!" 

"YN, easy. I understand how upsetting this is but I just need a yes or no." 

You knew Hallie was eavesdropping; you couldn't blame her. You sucked in a deep breath to calm down. 

"...No." 

"Okay. That's all I needed. Normally, I would book a session with you just to make sure but I suppose that's not necessary right now."

Your jaw tightened. "Henry, you've been a good therapist to me but I'm a little offended you'd even ask this." 

"Well I apologize, YN. But this anonymous caller was very determined and urgent. They called me multiple times. They said they were a close friend to you and you were worrying them." 

You knew Randy wouldn't. Not after the talk you both had. Dewey wouldn't. Gale might. Hallie, Derek and Mickey...What would be their motive? 

Only two people stuck out in your mind and it had you biting your inner cheek...How did they even get his number?

"YN?" 

You came back to the conversation right when you heard a knock at the door.

 "Sorry, Henry. I have someone here-" 

Hallie held up a hand as she went to the door for you. You shot her a grateful smile as you continued. "I swear I'll try to call you but I can't make any promises. I don't know who told you this but it's not true. And frankly, as rude as it is, I have bigger things to worry about with a killer making me a target...Have you heard the news?" 

"Only pieces." 

Hallie greeted the Detectives and invited them inside. 

"Well, I had to go to the hospital all night last night because a friend had their arm slashed by the killer after they chased me through the house." 

"I'm so sorry, YN. I had no idea! I'm not accusing you, it was just my job to check in on you especially with the concerned call." 

"I understand. I gotta go." 

"Be safe, YN. Call me anytime you need to." 

You said goodbye and hung up. Sucking in a breath, not happy with how rude you were but even more angry at how far they were willing to go to make you look crazy.

'...Why would they want me arrested or taken away though? Don't they want me dead?' The thought didn't make sense to you. You refused to believe one of your friends did such a thing… So, what was the reasoning here? 

You turned around to see two middle aged men. Hallie smiled as they introduced themselves, showing you their badges. 

"Officer Richards and Officer Andrews. YN and?-" 

"Hallie McDaniel." She greeted as you walked up and forced a smile. Officer Richards eyed you. "You girls should have asked for our badges right away. No telling how many yahoos would impersonate an officer." 

Hallie looked at you from the corner of her eye with a surprised face. "O-Oh… Well, YN said you were coming so we assumed the killer wouldn't be that bold." She gave with a smile.

Andrews nodded. "Yes well, you can't be too careful right now. It could be anybody." 

It ate away at you that you couldn't prove that you knew exactly who it was. You could only go along with it all and act like you were clueless. Unless you wanted to not be taken seriously.

Hallie nodded awkwardly before waving at you. "Well, I hate to be rude but I have a class at 8. See you, YN! You look like you're in good hands." She winked at you and you had to suppress the smirk at her checking out Andrews as she walked out. 

You shrugged at them. "So, um...You both follow me wherever?" 

"Yes, Ma'am. Wherever you go, we follow until the killers are caught." Richards gave.

"And believe me, we will catch them. " Andrews added. 

You bounced on the balls of your feet, trying to fill in the silence. "So...I'm not taking as many classes for the time being. First is drama club. Is that okay?" 

They nodded. 

You gave an awkward smile and walked ahead of them, locking the door behind you as they stepped out. 

"Okay, this is going to be interesting...Mind if I fill in the silence?" 

"We're on the clock, YN." 

"Okay, but it's a long walk…What's your zodiac sign?...Kidding." You joked. 

"We have to be alert, the silence is just a way to focus on our surroundings...But I am a Capricorn." 

——————————————–––––––––———

You sat in a seat with Gus as you talked to him privately. Your two guards were sitting a few aisles away in the back.

"YN, you have talent. You said yourself that acting made you feel empowered." 

You frowned, softly replying. "I know...It's just, with these murders...I don't know how I can focus! And safety reasons...I-I...I don't think I can do it." You fidgeted with your hands, hunched forwards with your elbows on your thighs. 

He gave you a serious look. "The battle for the soul is fought in the form of art. You're a fighter, YN. That's why you took this class on a whim because it was calling you."

You blinked and sighed while looking up at the stage as students prepared props and costumes. "Mr. Gold...This is real life, not art-" 

"Art imitates real life. You know that much." 

You tensed your shoulders. "Well...Art doesn't make me a fighter." 

He leaned forward and raised a brow at you. "YN. You challenged your trauma by getting up on stage and acting out drama and tragedy. You fought your social anxiety by acting in front of people...The news articles and your survival on every tabloid is evidence of that. That's why your major is Criminology; to be the one to outsmart the criminals. Because you...Are a fighter."

You rolled your lips in thought, voice heavy. "Yeah...I'm a fighter." 

He scrunched his brows. "I didn't hear that." 

You looked back at him. "...I'm a fighter." 

"No. I don't believe you." You felt your expression harden as you stared at him long and hard. He shook his head. "I don't." 

You replied in an even tone. "I'm a fighter." 

He stared a moment before nodding with a small smirk. "Okay." He took in a breath before continuing. "So, at the risk of sounding like a college drama teacher. If you've got pain around this material; use it...This is your role, YN." 

You looked at him. "It's been my role for less than a week." 

"Yes but Cassandra is a role made for you. Cassandra was one of the greatest tragedies in literature...She knew her fate as her own curse and used it." 

"...Cursed huh? Sounds about right. You're good." 

"I have no understudy and I'm desperate." 

You smiled at that before taking a deep sigh. "...Okay. One rehearsal and we'll see." 

—————————————————————

The ominous music filled the air as you crouched down. It was your first time acting in full costume. The red cloak covered your hair tied up in braids reminiscent of Ancient Greek muses. A red satin toga draped down to your ankles with a gold sash at the waist. The fates in masks and cloaks voiced the chorus around you as smoke rolled over the stage and thunder clapped. Lightning illuminating the floor you stared down at until it was your que.

"...ALL BEHOLD! THE DREADED FATE OF TROY!...THAT ONCE STOOD PROUD AND LIT THE HILLS OF SPARTA!-" 

You heard the fake but moderately heavy plaster boulders rock off the sets fake cliffs. 

"NOW; SHROUDED IN THE DEATHLY SMOKE OF RUIN! HER ROYAL CHILDREN PITCHED FROM HER WALLS!...HER PEOPLE DRIVEN THROUGH HER RUINS...AND NOW ALONE IN FATE'S CRUEL ISOLATION-" 

You swallowed, the words driving a nail in you. You were Cassandra. You were made for this role. 

"-STANDS CASSANDRA!" 

You slowly stood, elevating the blood red veil over your head to below from the fan / wind on stage. Your eyes gazing out across the stage to the audience. 

"HER KINGDOM, FAMILY AND FRIENDS...DRIVEN TO THE WIND." 

You walked forward, veil still over your head with your arms raised. Voice rising as the words escaped your red lips. You felt your voice quiver the words. Speaking them as your own for the world to hear. 

"No crime against Gods or Man have I committed…" You lowered the veil to drape over your hair as a shroud. "Saith to speak the truth." 

The chorus joined you as you spoke. "And each hideous vision born from my mind…Has come to pass." 

You brought the veil back up with your arms, eyes scanning the audience to see the detectives and what you swore was a figure at the top row...Too far away to make out in the dark.

You walked forward, tracing your steps along the edge of the stage as you spoke. Speaking silently out to Billy or Stu or the media or anyone else that would listen. 

"Troy has fallen! Not by my hand nor my wish…" You glanced at the dark figure now gone. Not even the outline in the row of seats. "...But as I foresaw…" 

 You swallowed, hearing the thunder and seeing the actor being lowered upon the star as a symbolism for fate itself. 

Your eyes looked around. Trying to see the figure again. "So now...Fate's vengeful eye…Is fixed." 

You looked up, seeing the masked figure point down at you. "...On me." 

The lightning clapped and the chorus sang as you stared back up at fate. The words, the noise and the plot suddenly feel too close for home. Closer than it did last week when you joined. Now, you felt as if Fate really was judging you.

"TELL US O CASSANDRA! WHERE HAS THE SWEETNESS OF LIFE GONE?" You shielded your face, your acting giving way to genuine panic as the masked figures grabbed you. Spinning you around as they chanted. The lightning flashing and thunder rumbling the stage as your veil kept obscuring your vision. 

You were spun too hard, landing on the ground as the act continued. You saw it...You saw the Ghost mask among the actors before they vanished. Your breath caught as you were limply dragged across stage, eyes darting around to see the figure once more as fake knives were brought out. 

"WHAT STAYS FATE'S HAND FROM THEE?!" Was chanted over and over as stabbing motions were made. You felt fear rise in you as your chest grew tight. You jumped repeatedly as you saw the Ghost mask again and again through the crowd just to vanish as you were spun. 

You felt cornered as you tried to get off stage. Rushing past masks and prop knives until you came face to face with the mask from your nightmares. Actual knife raised high to stab you.

You screamed to the top of your lungs and fell backwards.

"Alright, hold it!...Hold it!!" Gus exclaimed as he quickly stood up. 

You frantically clutched at the stage floor, backpedaling as the other actors stopped….No ghostface mask in sight. All of the familiar faces looked at you in concern as they peeled their masks off. 

They stared at you as Gus and the Detectives came near the stage. "Everyone take 5!" 

 You shakily stood up, all eyes on you as you realized you had your first hallucination...What your therapist said bringing terror to you. There was no way the killer was on stage without everyone seeing them...You really did just imagine that...What if you really were losing touch with reality?

Tears sprung to your eyes as both fear and shame ran through you. All the eyes staring at you as you wiped your face with the back of your hand and ran backstage. Rushing past everything and any special effects people to go to the dressing room.

You charged in, collapsing against the vanity and letting your knees give out onto the floor. Heavy sobs racking your body as you buried your face in your arms on the table. At your wits end. No one to truly turn to. The play was just a narration of your life...People were going to die, you predicted it. Not by your hand but by Fate. By a killer you couldn't stop or control...And no one believed it was who you knew it was. Now? You were having flashbacks and hallucinations...No one would believe you now.

An ugly sob caught in your throat as your shoulder shook violently. Salty tears fell down your face as you felt the golden leaf fall from your braided bun. 

"...O Cassandra, Cassandra...Where has the sweetness of life gone?" 

You froze mid sob. Shoulders tense as a voice drew out the words sarcastically from in the room. You slowly raised your head, too scared to look as you saw Billy leisurely sitting in a chair next to the outfits, a Cheshire cat grin on his face...It was the first time you saw him this close in two years.

You instantly jumped up, knocking over a vase to back pedal to the door when you heard it slam shut. Turning to see Stu had been hidden behind the door with sadistic glee on his face. He strode over towards you as Billy stood up.

You went to run when Stu grabbed you roughly. Jerking you in place by your shoulders to face Billy as your back was pressed against him.

Billy's dark eyes bore into you with a smirk on his lips. "Did you really think you could say that to me without consequences?...YN." He drew out your name under his breath as he walked up to you in Stu's hold and you were trapped. 

[likeitloveitblogit]

Just Hold Me

I had a dream that got stuck in my brain, so I decided to turn it into a Loki x fem!reader fanfic. Here it is. Please be gentle this is the first but of my writing I've shared.

Pairing: Loki x fem!reader

Summary: After a rough battle fighting with the Avengers you skip the party to recover in your room at the Avengers tower. There you're visited by a drunk Thor and a comforting Loki.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warning: non consensual kissing, mention of assault, pain, mention of death, they all need therapy

What to expect: Me turning a dream into a Loki fluff therapy session.

From your room in the Avengers tower you could still hear the sounds of the party. Another victory for the team meant another raging party to celebrate. You loved a good party, but you had taken a few too many hits during the mission and had chosen to head back to your room.

A knock sounded at your door, "Y/N, are you there?" You heard the gruff voice of Thor.

The god of thunder and his brother Loki had become members of the team after defeating the Dark Elves in London. There had been a drunken night when Loki confessed to you he had considered faking his own death and stealing the throne of Asgard. But Loki had chosen to help fight, winning the battle and the approval of the Avengers. Not everyone had accepted them completely, but you understand that people were capable of change and had become friends with the pair.

"Y/N?!?" Thor called again, pounding a little harder on the door.

You rise from your bed and walk to the door, opening it you find a very clearly drunk Thor. It took a great deal of drinking to get the god drunk. You chuckle thinking about how much he must have consumed, but then notice that his eyes are full of tears.

"Thor, what's wrong?"

"Can I come in?"

Normally you didn't let anyone into your room. You were a fairly open person, happy to share, but your room was your safe place to get away and recharge. Standing there, leaning slightly against your door frame Thor looked completely broken, so you open the door and gesture for him to enter. Leaving the door open you follow Thor into the room.

You weren't sure how to handle having a guest in your room. But Thor walked over and sat on your bed, like he owned the place. "I'm sorry to bother you, I just, I was at that party and everything was good. You know we had that Asgardian wine brought in, so much better than anything here on Midgard. But then I saw a woman in the crowd that looked just like her. And I thought, I don't know, I thought maybe she had only faked it, maybe she'd just been lost and now she'd come to find me. I ran over to her, but the woman was just some stranger."

From your spot learning against the wall you asked, "Who do you mean? Jane?"

"Ha, I've lost her too. I seem to lose everyone I care about. But no. I thought I saw my mother"

That broke your heart. That same drunken night when Loki had confessed thinking of faking his own death, you two had also talked about Frigga's death. Unsure how to comfort the god then you had sat with Loki, holding his hand while he cried. Loki had been so close with Frigga, a part of Loki had changed when the guard had delivered the news of her death. Being in prison unable to even attend the funeral had stirred a desire to be a better person in Loki.

Even though you had seen Loki's grief, somehow Thor had seemed stronger, less affected, but Frigga was his mother, too. The loss of a parent is a terrible thing to deal with no matter how strong of a person you might appear to be. And clearly alcohol made the Asgardians emotional wrecks, because here now was the god of thunder sitting on your bed, body racking with sobs.

You sat down next to Thor, reaching to take his hand. Instead Thor pulled you into a crushing hug. Your first instinct was to pull away from the pain, you had really taken a beating in that fight. But Thor was your friend and he was hurting inside, so you relaxed. Rubbing circles on his back, you whispered "it's ok, you're ok" while you let him cry on your shoulder. The two of you sat like that for a long while before Thor released his hold on you.

You were about to ask Thor if he was feeling better, when he looked down at you and leaned in to kiss you. A million thoughts ran through your brain all at once. Fear struck you the strongest, and you scrambled away, backing up until your back was against the headboard. "What are you doing?"

"Um, kissing you," Thor said as he crawled toward you, hovering over you he leaned to try and kiss you.

"Well, stop it" you put your arms in front of your face trying to push him away. "Stop it, stop it, stop it"

Thor's strong arms easily push your own hands out of the way. But just as Thor leaned in towards you, he was ripped from on top of you.

Frightened, you look up to see Loki shoving Thor away, placing himself between you and Thor. "The lady told you to stop. What has gotten into you brother?"

"You don't know anything stupid brother, just leave us alone" Thor lunges for Loki, but Thor is still far too intoxicated to stand a chance in a fight. Loki easily pushes back and Thor nearly crashes into the wall.

Before Thor can lunge again Loki summons a pair of daggers and points then at Thor. "Brother you're drunk. You need to calm down. I don't want to hurt you, but if you try to hurt Y/N, I'll have no choice."

"Brother you wouldn't dare."

Loki points the daggers more directly at Thor "I don't know what is happening here but you know that I will do anything to defend a lady's honor."

"Oh, so you're just such a hero now? A perfect little prince charming? You're not defending anything. You're just jealous because Y/N invited me into her room and not you."

You stand up, careful to stay behind Loki. "Thor, nothing was going to happen between us. You came to me, crying and I offered you a hand to hold because I knew you missed your mother. You hugged me and I let you because you are my friend. But that's it. You are my friend and I don't want any more than that. You should thank Loki for keeping you from doing something you'd have regretted."

"You think I'd regret kissing you?"

"No, I think you'd regret kissing someone who didn't want to be kissed. You'd regret taking advantage of someone you cared about."

"I, I thought you'd want to kiss me"

"You buffoon, not everyone wants to have their face crushed in by your giant head."

"Hush Loki," you walk toward Thor, Loki tries to pull you back behind him but you touch his arm gently, and step forward. "Thor you know I do care about you, but I don't feel that way about you. Look, I know you have had a lot to drink tonight. And you have a lot of emotions running through you. I mean you thought you saw your mother, that has to be really hard to deal with. But you made a mistake."

"I thought, I just. Uh, I'm sorry"

"I know. Right now I think it is best if you go back to your room, get some sleep, and we can talk more in the morning, once you're sober."

"But,"

"You heard her brother. She is giving you a very generous offer. If you don't accept and leave now, I will make you. And I won't be nice about it."

With a final look at you, Thor leaves your room.

Once Loki is sure that Thor is gone, he sets his daggers down and turns to you. You register that he chose to set them down rather than magic then away, but chart it away as a question for later.

Approaching you, hands raised like you are an animal he is afraid to spook Loki asks, "Y/N, are you ok?"

"Yes, yes. I'm fine." Which is a lie, you're anything but ok. Unsteady on your feet, you nearly collapse.

Loki reaches to catch you and leads you to sit on the bed, "oh Y/N, what did he do to you? I'll kill him if he has hurt you."

"Thank you, but I'm actually just a little worse off than I thought from that fight today. All this has just made me extra aware of how tired I am."

"I'll go get Banner or Strange, or one of the others."

"No," you reach and grab onto his arm.

He looks down at the way your hands tremble as they hold onto his arm. "But, Y/N, you are unwell."

"I'm not sick. I'm not injured, well not more than normal after a fight. I'm just tired. Honest."

"Well then I'll leave you to rest"

But you only hold more tightly, "please don't"

"Don't what?" His breath catches as he looks down into your eyes.

"Please don't leave me. I don't, I don't want to be alone right now."

"Ok, I'll stay." Loki sits next to you, shifting his arm to take your hand. You rest your head on his shoulder and look at the interlocking of your fingers with his.

"Thank you."

"Thor is a buffoon, but I don't think he meant to harm you. He's not used to anyone not wanting him. Not that what he did was ok. I'm not trying to say it was ok."

"Loki, I know. I understand that he was hurting. And I guess I'm a beacon of comfort and he mistook that for romantic attraction. Honestly I think he would have stopped once he realized what he was doing. But I'm still so glad you were there."

Despite Loki's comforting hold, and the circles he was tracing with his long thumb, your hands still shook. "Y/N is there something more bothering you?"

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes. "When I saw your brother crawling towards me, I got so scared. I didn't see Thor, my friend. I saw that crazy guy from the factory today."

You could feel the moment the switch clicked and rage burned in Loki, "Wait did something happen? I don't remember a guy. Did this guy…, did he …, do something to you? I will end him."

"Oh Loki, my sweet murderous Loki. You actually already did."

"What?"

"You probably don't even remember, it was the heat of the battle. I'd gone in to clear the next room when I got knocked down and bumped my head. When I woke up, one of the baddies was dragging me by my ankle into the office, muttering about a sweet reward. How much fun he was going to have with me. He was reaching for me when you stormed in. I don't think you even saw me behind the desk, but you grabbed the guy before he could touch me. I didn't see what you did to him, but I heard it and it sounded very bloody."

"Oh gods, Y/N, I had no idea you were there in the back office. That guy looked deranged, even if we hadn't all been given orders to kill on sight I would have killed that man. If I'd known you were there I'd have made sure you were ok."

"I hid under the desk until you'd left and then I ran straight back to the jet. I felt so bad for not helping more with the fight, but…"

"Y/N, no one would ever blame you for running. That's not something anyone should have to face. Oh gods, and then my stupid brother had to come in and loom over you."

"He didn't know."

"No but that doesn't mean it wasn't terrifying, just the same."

You can't find the right words, and simply give a small nod. After a second of silence the question pops back into your brain. "Why did you leave your daggers on my nightstand? Why didn't you magic then away like you normally do?"

"Oh, uh, I was going to offer to let you borrow them. Just in case Thor tried to come back and visit."

"That's really sweet, but I've never been good with knives. I don't know if I'd even know what to do with them."

"Hmm well is there anything I can do to make you feel safer?"

There was a moment when you thought about saying, no. Telling Loki you'd be safe with his daggers, and sending him back to his room. But you couldn't do it. You could not send Loki away. Not when he felt like the only safe thing in the world. A breath of air after you'd been drowning all night. So you asked what you really wanted, not caring that it made you feel vulnerable.

"Can you hold me?"

"Are you sure you want that?"

"Yes I'm sure. I mean if you don't want to, I won't make you."

Loki gingerly wraps his arms around you, until you squeeze him half to death and he returns with a proper hug. Still holding you he says "I just didn't know if you'd want to be touched after… today and then my brother"

"You are not a brutish villain and you are not your brother. Do not take this as anything but a compliment, but right now the fact that you're not a big oversized muscle man is really comforting. And well neither men got the chance to do anything because of you."

"Y/N, I am so sorry you had to go through all of this. But I'm really happy that you find me comforting. I have done some terrible things that I deeply regret. And I've been afraid for so long that I'd never be able to find someone who felt safe around me."

"Everyone in this tower has done things that they can't take back. Things they regret. Including myself." You breathe in the scent of Loki, winter frost mixed with leather and metal, wondering when that scent had become so comforting to you. "But for right now, your arms feel like home and I don't want to ever leave."

"I will be here to hold you as long as you need."

"I'm going to take you up on that offer, because I might have a concussion, so you're going to have to watch me to make sure I don't die while I sleep."

"Humans are far too fragile."

"That we are. But that's an issue to deal with another day. Right now I just need you to hold me." You whisper as you lie yourself down, pulling Loki down with you. Carefully he wraps his arms around you pulling your little spoon body against his own big spoon body. Listening intently to your breathing as you drift asleep, Loki decides that he never wants to stop holding you.