#i guess part of it is also that i don't have a solid team to fall back on when content gets too annoying for dps chong

[aro-aizawa]

I think Mirabel & Izuku would be besties tbh. This is prompted by anything but I thought you might agree

mirabel from encanto? oh ye i can get behind that ahah

[helen-with-an-a]

The Object that stood in the way of a World Cup epilogue

Hi. So here is the epilogue to the story. These are 10 snippets of R and Ona's relationship. They do go in order, but they don't really have a set timeline (beyond the first 2 taking place in the 24/25 season); the idea is that they just happen over a few years. Also shout out the anon who guessed that yes, R does eventually know some Catalan

Ona Batlle x Reader

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Epilogue

TW: Suggestiveness, Smut (that isn't really smut but it's slightly more than suggestive if you get what I mean), mentions of previous mental health issues, Injury

Description: 10 moments throughout R and Ona's relationship

Word Count: 6.8k (I'm sorry it's so long but I hope you enjoy it)

First Match of the New Season

“Hola. Bon dia. Hey. Good morning. Bon dia.” Greetings were called as you walked into the building. You passed the media people, waving as you saw the camera pointed in your direction.

“Morning, kid,” Lucy said as you sat your stuff beside her. It was the first game of the season, and you were excited. You were told to be used as a sub around the 60th minute for the first few games, gradually building your strength and stamina. At first, you were a little annoyed. Still, after talking to the coaches, you knew they had your best interests at heart – come back from an injury that had you sitting in the stands for more than a year, not to mention the mental health issues that you had experienced – they wanted to ease you back in, see how you’d cope.

“Morning, Luce.” From the corner of your eye, you spotted Ona walking through the door, chatting away with Ingrid and Mapi. Even in a simple hoodie and cargos, she looked fantastic, with hair in that messy bun that drove you insane and a soft smile as she made her way to her cubby, greeting people as she went. Your match day fit wasn’t too dissimilar to hers; it was hers. You had swiped a faded sweatshirt from her cupboard this morning, kissing the corner of her mouth gently with a cheeky grin.

“I want that one back, you know,” she said teasingly, pushing a finger into your chest as she came to rest by your side.

“And you will … once it stops smelling like you,” you answered cheekily, grabbing her hand and laying a kiss on her palm.

“Ew,” Lucy commented, straight-faced.

“Excuse you, the number of times I’ve been subjected to your nastiness with Keira,” you scoffed. Whilst Lucy wasn’t a big fan of PDA in public, as soon as she knew there were no cameras, she was the biggest cuddler known to man.

“Yeh, yeh. Doesn’t mean I need to see … that,” she shuddered.

“Well, then look away.” You stuck your tongue out at her as you pulled Ona closer, kissing her softly.

“Aye, aye, aye!” Patri whistled across the room, “There are children present here, people.” You laughed as she covered Vicky’s eyes.

Everything was like old times as you went through your pre-match routine. You did a pitch walk with Ona, pinkies intertwined as you wandered around, and a warmup with Lucy, laughing excitedly as you reminisced over the summer. As you walked down the tunnel, you felt familiar arms pull you back.

“Can I do your hair?” She asked. It had been routine for you back in Manchester for her to help you pull your hair back into a bun. She had watched you do it twice before taking pity on you … and your scalp.

“Absolutely you can.” You beamed at her as you gathered your stuff, sitting down in between her legs. She was so much gentler than you as she brushed your hair up and out of your face. She kissed the back of your neck as she finished. You smiled, loving that your little ritual was back. You thanked her and quickly sprayed some perfume before slipping your bib on and heading to the sub's bench.

Unsurprisingly, Barcelona started the season off with a bang, making it obvious that this team meant business once again. It was a solid 6 – 0 win, with the fans going crazy for each goal.

“Vamos!” Patri shouted as she stuck a phone in your face. You cheered with her – your happiness was visible to everyone.

“Mi amor,” Ona called as she motioned for you to come over to her. You started to make your way, stopping and shaking hands with players as you went. You were intercepted by the media team asking for a video about your return.

“Hola culers. Gracias por apoyarme en todo. It’s been a long year, but we’re starting it how we want to continue. Vam-,” you were cut off by a body jumping on you from behind. The warm, sweet scent that engulfed you told you exactly who it was. Ona squealed in your ear as you spun around, her clinging to you, both laughing loudly. You caught a lot of people’s attention as you ran around, dodging through the team and being tracked by a camera.

-------------------

The International Call Up

It was the last international break of the year. You had been doing well, starting games regularly and, more often than not, staying on for the full 90 minutes. Sarina was due to be making phone calls to the squad tomorrow. She had asked for your weekly schedule a few days ago so she could avoid calling you during training … if she was going to call.

You hadn’t received a phone call for the last break. It had stung that you hadn’t even received an email from Sarina or the England team, but having spoken to Leah privately and set up a call with Sarina, they had both reassured you that it was nothing sinister. You had barely returned to the starting XI at Barca, so they thought it best for you to sit this break out. But the seed of doubt had been planted. You saw what happened to Steph when she got injured, and she was the captain, could they be doing the same thing with you? You successfully kept the voices in your head at bay for about an hour before Ona caught on.

“Mi amor, estás bien?” She had asked you when you were lying in bed. It was usual for her to lie on you, her ear pressed to your chest, the methodical beat soothing her before bed. It was strange, therefore, when you denied her from cuddling up to you. She was about to protest when you pushed her to lie back on the pillows somewhat forcefully before diving on top of her. She recognised this behaviour; you wanted comfort and security before speaking your mind. She allowed you to rest your total weight on her, her nails scratching at your scalp and a hand rubbing soft circles on your back.

“What if she doesn’t call?” Your voice was quiet and full of uncertainty. It was muffled; her neck was your hiding place for the moment.

“I know you're anxious about this, mi amor, but she will call. She asked for your schedule, didn't she? She didn’t do that last time.” That was true. Ona knew you needed cold, hard facts—something you couldn’t dispute. “You’re in the starting XI at Barca pretty much every game. And if you aren’t, then you’re a sub instead. You’ve been named in every escuadrón del día del juego across all competitions.”

“But … what if she doesn’t call? It’s been so long since I last wore an England shirt. What happens if she thinks I’m not good enough for it? What if I –” You were panicking more now, sitting up to look in her eyes.

“I’m going to stop you right there, mi amor. I know you are worried about tomorrow, but you need to calm down. Getting histérica won’t help anyone. Deep breaths.” She went through the routine your therapist had set out for you. You had asked her to come to your next appointment after the lack of a phone call. You had scheduled one for the next day, recognising the signs of needing help to process the rejection. She had sat in on the final 20 minutes, taking in all the recommended ways to help you should you ever feel like the world was becoming too much for you. Eventually, you calmed down enough to discuss what was in your head. With each negative thought, she had asked you to either change it into a positive or think of something that challenged it.

“I love you,” she had whispered as you snuggled down for sleep. “So, so much. Whatever happens, that will never change,” she vowed.

“Yo también te amo mucho,” you whispered back.

The next morning, Lucy came into the gym beaming; she didn’t need to tell you that she had been selected. Keira was also softly smiling after lunch, so you gathered she had also received the phone call. So that just left you.

“She does it randomly, recordar?” Ona had rubbed soothing circles into your back when she noticed Keira’s smile.

You were in the changing room waiting for Ona to finish when your phone buzzed.

Sarina: Hi. Are you free for a phone call?

This was it.

Y/N: Hi. Yes, absolutely. Please call whenever.

You barely pressed send before your phone started ringing. The conversation was short and sweet, just like always. She asked if you wanted to join the team, and you accepted instantly.

“So?” Lucy was the first one over to you. The slight smile told you everything she needed to know. She cheered and launched herself at you, knocking the wind out of you.

“Careful, Luce. We do need her for the games.” Keira laughed, joining in on the hug.

“Qué está pasando?” Alexia questioned, frowning slightly at the noise you three were making.

“Sarina phone.” You explained. She knew how much it meant to receive the first phone call after an injury. She surprised you, however, by joining in on the hug. You were still in the middle of the group hug when Ona walked over from the showers. Her hair was wet, and she wore a sports bra and joggers with a small United logo and your number.

“You got the phone call!” She smiled. She wasn’t asking. She knew you’d get it. She had absolute and complete faith in your abilities.

“I got the phone call!”

-------------------

Ona Gets Injured

It was a nice day in late spring when it happened. It was the final game before the international break. You were leaving for England the day after next, being expected at St. George’s Park the following morning. You had 5 minutes left of normal game time; you and Ona had played the full match, legs burning with lactic acid and faces red from the effort. You were winning, but it had been an effort. The first half had ended goalless for both teams. It had been excellent goalkeeping and general defence from them; none of Barca’s shots had been put in the back of the net. Thanks to Patri and Salma, you were now 2 – 0, but it had been a struggle to get there.

You watched, waiting to see if you were needed, as Ona tackled the defender. It was a fair fight; neither was willing to give up the ball easily. As Ona finally freed herself with the ball, a second pair of boots joined the mix. You didn’t see which one did it, but suddenly, Ona was on the floor clutching her ankle.

“Merda. Merda. Merda. Tu gossa. Ai, ai, ai.” Ona rolled around, the swearing sounding wrong coming from her usually innocent mouth.

“Oni… Oni, mi vida.” You scratched along the letters on her back, hoping to comfort her. “Necesitas una fisio?” You asked her. She nodded, her eyes still tightly shut. From behind you, you could see Alexia, Marta, and Patri surrounding the Ref. You stuck your arm in the air, waving the medics over. “What is it?”

“Tobillo. Sus tachuelas atraparon mi tobillo.” You nodded as you rolled her onto her back.

“Let me see those pretty eyes, Oni,” you kissed her forehead as the medical staff appeared.

The game continued after Ona was carried off the pitch. She had adamantly refused a stretcher, but she couldn’t put weight on her foot. You prayed it wasn’t serious, but the grim faces of the medical team told you otherwise. You had sped through the post-match handshakes, catching Alexia’s eyes as you slipped away.

Ona was on one of the beds in the medical room, her ankle wrapped in ice.

“Qué decía? Esta roto? Necesitas ir al hospital? Qué ocurre? Qué tan malo es?” You bombarded her with questions. You had never seen her injured like that before. In Manchester, when she had a concussion, you were an absolute mess – this time was no different. She didn’t answer you, just shook her head, reaching out for you. You ran to her side as you watched the tears fall. With every passing cry, your thoughts started to spiral into worse and worse scenarios.

“Hey, hey. It’s ok. Whatever the doctors said, you’ve got this. Nosotras tenemos esto. You aren’t going to be alone, prometo.” You cradled her head as she cried.

“It’s … I’ve … She …” Ona was trying to tell you what happened but couldn’t catch her breath. She had never been injured like this before.

“Oni, deep breaths for me. In … and out.” You did the same thing she did when you felt overwhelmed, hoping the familiar routine would soothe her more. Buena niña,” you said when she was calm. Now, what did the doctors say?”

“I’ve maybe got a … I don’t know the word in English.” She started to panic again.

“That’s ok, say it in Spanish, mi vida,” you kissed her knuckles gently.

“fractura capilar. I’ve got to go in for scans in the morning. Either way, I won’t be playing in the international window … or for the next month or so, tal vez más si realmente está roto.” Potentially broken. A month or so out, minimum. You know from personal experience how much this is going to hurt Ona.

“That’s okay, mi vida. It will be hard, sí. But I believe in you one hundred percent. We can set up appointments with the therapist again?” It was a strange role reversal. Usually, you were the one panicking and crying, and Ona was the calm, unmoving force in the raging storm.

“And maybe missing the international break isn’t as bad as you think?” Ona started to protest. You once thought like she did, football was your world. It still was in so many ways. But since your injury … and her re-entering your life … things had shifted slightly. You recognised the importance of taking breaks a little bit more seriously now. “No, hey. Listen to me.” You moved to press your forehead against hers. “You’ve been going non-stop for so long. You have also achieved so much under the conditions you were in. I know it’s not ideal, but take the next however many weeks as a chance to properly rest.” You leaned forward a little more and kissed her gently, both of you melting into each other. “Plus, I want a WAG cheering me on,” you added, making her laugh wetly.

-------------------

Going to Ona’s Home

It was a warm day in early spring as you drove down to Vilassar De Mar, the wind whipping gently at your hair. It was Ona’s Abuela’s birthday, and you were spending the weekend with them as it coincided with a rare free weekend. You had slipped away from training, driving to Ona’s family home.

You loved it here; you could happily roam around the streets for hours with the ever-present smell of the sea and saltiness in the air. The first time you had come here was on a similar weekend – her brother’s birthday, you think. You had spent time relishing in the happiness of a regular family, one that made the good kind of loud, full of laughter and love. It made Ona happy to see how easily you fit into her family, playing football in the garden with her cousin’s children, joking around with her brother, helping her mother prepare the food, and chatting animatedly with her father.

“Hola, Àvia,” Ona said as she entered the living room.

“Hola, Néta,” Her grandmother said as they kissed each other’s cheeks. “On és la meva neta encantadora?”

“Todavía no puedo hablar catalán.” You laughed as you hugged the woman tightly. You didn’t know what she had asked Ona, but judging by the blush, it had something to do with you. “Hola, Abuela. Te he extrañado.” Ona loved when you came to her home. Her parents had taken her aside after the second time she’d brought you, asking when she would make you their daughter-in-law. At the time, she blushed profusely, telling her parents she wanted to take it slow but promising that she would make you officially at Batlle one day. But she was beginning to think that day was growing closer and closer with each visit.

“Mi amor, let’s go for a walk, sí? We could go to the cafetería and pick up some Crema Catalana?” Ona said a little while later, already leading you to the door. You loved the little coffee shop with its patterned flooring and twisting vines. The pair of you walked, hand in hand, the short distance to the shop, stopping to take pictures and videos on the way. The fans and the team were going insane at the little snippets of your relationship that you showed online. Everyone loved your love so much that they couldn’t help it.

In this particular video you shared on your Instagram, you had propped your phone up on a bench. As you were busy pressing play and ensuring the phone stayed where you wanted it, you missed the adoring look Ona gave you. Whilst you may not have seen it, the camera most definitely picked it up. You rushed back to Ona’s side, taking her hand and using it to spin her around. You cupped her face as you let your eyes travel across her face. She was so beautiful, God’s gift on earth, you think … no, you know.

“Te amo,” you whispered to her, pecking her lips two, three times. The camera didn’t capture your voice, especially since you muted it and added a song instead, but no one could deny the rosy hue that spread across both your faces. She had pushed her arms around your waist and buried her head in your neck as you rocked gently side-to-side.

You had cut the video for social media there, but on your camera roll, the heavy make out session that followed had been videoed for your eyes only. You had been glad that it was an empty street on a quiet Sunday afternoon. You had pulled away and was greeted to the sight of a dazed Ona, lips kiss-swollen and slightly out of breath.

-------------------

You’re a WAG

For once, your schedules meant you could see Ona play for Spain in person. Usually, you were forced to watch each other’s matches at the hotel, sending each other a steady stream of texts for the other to catch up on after the game. But finally, your matches had aligned in a way that meant you could go to Ona’s match in person. You had just played against the Netherlands, and Spain was playing France. The day after your match, you bid the Lionesses goodbye and headed to the airport. You were so excited when you got the confirmation from Sarina that you could leave camp a day earlier than you were supposed to. You had lied to Ona – it hurt your heart just a little bit when you saw the sadness in her eyes despite the brave smile she put on. You knew it would be worth it, though. You had asked her brother to help secure your tickets, explaining what you wanted to do. He had jumped at the chance, knowing how sad his sister was when you couldn’t make her games in person.

Lyon was loud and busy, with both Spanish and French fans swarming the walk to the stadium. You eventually met Ona’s family, successfully surprising her parents as well. It had been a while since you had seen them.

“Hola,” you said as you sidled up to the small group. Ona’s mother turned, letting out a short, shocked scream before engulfing you in a warm hug. Was the ability to give great hugs genetic?

“Qué estás haciendo aquí? Ona lo sabe?”

“No, es una sorpresa.”

The match was a good one. France put up a fight, but this Spanish team was something else. The way they moved with the ball, the seamless connections, the complete trust – it was something to be admired. You hadn’t really watched the ball, but rather Ona. It had been a while since you could actively watch her in a match. She looked so sexy. What you wouldn’t give to run your hands over those ripping muscles, make her whine and whimper. No, stop! You’re with her parents, you reminded yourself. Later, you promised.

It ended with a respectable 3 – 1 to Spain, with the girls on the pitch cheering and celebrating as they clapped for the fans. You slipped away as the game came to an end. You had spoken to Lucía the night before, asking her for a way to get you onto the pitch. The security guard looked unimpressed, but you pointed your name out on the list of people allowed into the back of the stadium and showed him your ID.

“Será mejor que te apresures y propongas matrimonio. Te ves demasiado bien en rojo para mantenerte como una Lioness.” Lucía called as you hugged her tightly.

“No chance. Putting this thing on was a struggle.” Slipping the red jersey over your head felt wrong, but you couldn’t deny that you liked having Batlle printed across your back.

“Let’s get you to your girl, sí,” She smiled, nodding your head in the direction of the pitch.

You hung back by the tunnel's entrance, some of the Barca girls smiling and waving at you. “Ona, tengo una entrega especial para ti. Ha recorrido un largo camino, así que ten cuidado, sí.” Lucía shouted. You could see the moment Ona spotted you. Her tired eyes lit up, and a smile instantly came to her face. She barrelled into you, arms going around your neck as you lifted her from the floor.

“Déu meu, què fas aquí? Déu meu.”

“Stop speaking Catalan; you know I can’t understand you.” You laughed as you supported her thighs, the other hand running up and down the length of her back.

“You said you couldn’t leave camp early. Me mentiste? If you did, that was very mean of you.” She was still clinging to you, and you made no effort to put her down.

“Technically, sí. I did lie to you. But it was for a good reason, no? Congratulations, by the way. You looked so sexy out there, mi sexy defensora. And that yellow card …” You could feel the heat in her cheeks.

The next day, you woke up to the Lionesses and Spanish football Instagram pages tagging you both in a photo; the moment she ran up to you was captured on video. You looked down at the sleeping woman beside you, her hair a mess, hickeys bitten into her neck, still kiss swollen lips, gentle puffs leaving her mouth. You knew you would marry her.

-------------------

Sant Jordi

Sant Jordi. St. George’s Day. A chance for you to show even more love to Ona. Whilst this wasn’t your first Sant Jordi together, you still wanted to make a big deal of it. In the week leading up to it, you made no effort to remind her of it; yesterday, you had lied when she asked where you were going. You said you were meeting up with Lucy and Keira, knowing they’d easily cover for you. You were actually buying a bouquet of red roses, a single red rose and a handful of books. You knew it was customary for guys to get books and girls to get roses, so you thought it would be best to get both. You didn’t know whether to only get one rose or a bouquet, so you got both instead.

Thankfully, the day also fell on an off day, meaning you had the whole day to shower Ona with your affection. You were taking this day more seriously than Valentine's, determined to exhibit your love to her. You knew she would tell you; you didn’t need to. She knew how much you loved. You showed her every day with the way you gently woke her up to kisses because you knew how much she hated the harshness of an alarm. You showed her every day with your touches; for her, touch was a natural, normal part of the day. Being Spanish, she’d grown up in a touchy environment. To you, it was much more of a conscious decision. You didn’t like physical touch … until she arrived. Once she had very quickly taken hold of your heart, touch had become essential to you. You would gently push her hair back off her face, you would interlink your fingers as you walked, you would stand with your pinkies laced together, you would sit with an arm around her waist at the lunch table as she stood between your legs, you would trace lines up the backs of her thighs if you stood between hers, you would fiddle with her hair. You showed her your love every day by doing the dirty washing, a task she knew you both hated.

You tried to slip out of bed without waking Ona as you woke up. But that girl had a built-in Y/N proximity detector.

“No, d'hora. Tornar a dormir,” She said in Catalan.

“Still don’t know what you’re saying. But I just need to loo; I’ll be back soon, ok.” You laughed as you kissed the back of her head, pulling the duvet around her once more. You raced around the flat, placing the roses in vases and resting them on the table, you stacked the books neatly next to them and your little card on top. Cute and respectable, but not over the top.

“Took too long,” Ona grumbled as you slipped back into bed. Although you had only been gone five minutes, it felt like a lifetime to both of you.

“Lo siento, Oni. Pero ya estoy de vuelta.”

-------------------

Winning Champions League

3 minutes. 2 minutes. 1 minute. 30 seconds. 10 seconds. The final whistle blew. The cheers were so loud as you all bundled on top of each other. Shouts of ‘Campeones de Europa’ echoed in your ears. Barcelona were Champions League winners once again. This feeling would never get old.

“What the fuck!” Keira shouted in your ears, laughing as you hugged each other tightly.

“Holy shit!” Lucy screamed as she landed on top of you both.

“What numbers this one, Luce?” You asked as she squeezed you so tight it almost hurt.

The hugs were sweaty, the screams were loud, and the energy was electric. And you wouldn’t have had it any other way. “Lo hicimos. De nuevo. Juntos,” Ona said as you finally walked into her embrace.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, Oni.” You said as you pressed a string of kisses against her forehead.

The party was one for the history books. Music boomed, drinks flowed, and laughter was shared.

“Oni, let me take you home,” you mumbled against her lips. With every drink, your inhibitions were lowered; with every kiss shared, you wanted needed her more desperately.

As you walked back to the hotel room, you couldn’t help but let your eyes and hands explore. The top she wore hugged all the right places; the jeans made her arse look even better. It would be wrong not to push your hands along her waist. It would be criminal not to let your thumb brush her ribs, just under her bra. It would be illegal not to let your fingers drift under the waistband of her trousers. She wasn’t much better. As soon as you entered the lift, she was sucking a dark hickey into your skin, her hand coming up to palm at your breast. You couldn’t tell what mood she was in. When you were at the club, she had seemed so innocent, wide doe eyes that told you she wanted you to absolutely ruin her. But now, with the way she pinned you against the wall, you think she might want to have you underneath her. You didn’t mind either way, knowing you would both be more than satisfied by the night's end.

You got your answer as she laid down on the bed, her jeans in a puddle to the side, her shirt following quickly after it.

“Si us plau.” She only used Catalan when she wanted you to have her in any and every way you wanted.

“Oni, how can I know what you want when you speak a language I don’t understand?” You said, watching her writhe with want as you traced lightly along her body – up her arm, cross her collarbone, skirting around her chest, smoothing across her waist as you came to a stop at her hip, opting to rub maddening circles into her skin.

“Por favour,” she whimpered again.

“Much better, my good girl.” You chuckled lowly as you finally touched her where she wanted.

-------------------

Ona surprises you at Camp.

It was your birthday, and you were on International duty. You had wanted to be woken up to a lovely birthday kiss from Ona, greeted with a wonderful sight of her in an old T-shirt of yours and nothing else, and able to have your way with her in every way she allowed. Instead, you were woken up by a grumpy Leah who had used all the hot water.

It wasn’t all bad; you were greeted at breakfast to a chorus of happy birthday before being given a single muffin with a candle in it.

“No cake?” Tooney moaned as you all tucked into you breakfasts.

“Not allowed. According to Leah, anyway,” you grumbled.

“Bitch,” Tooney muttered under her breath.

“What was that, Ella?” Leah asked as she came to sit beside you. Ella shook her head, flustering at her skipper. “That’s what I thought.”

The day was fairly normal. Sarina let you call out teams and make the groups as a ‘birthday present’. It was a bit of a shite one, but the sentiment was there. One person still hadn’t called you … or texted you. You knew Ona was busy. She was also on camp. But you had hoped she could at least have messaged you quickly. You tried not to let it get to you.

“Hey, Y/N, can you go grab me some more cones?” a trainer asked. I thought I had picked up enough. They should be in the storeroom right by the door.” You nodded, shuffling away to do what was asked.

“Feliç aniversari,” a very familiar voice called out to you. Now, before you say anything that means ‘happy birthday’ in Catalan,” you were frozen. How was she here? She should be in Spain, not in England, not standing in front of you. She could see your shock and took pity on you. “I took a flight this morning, lo siento, I couldn’t text or call you earlier.” As she touched your cheek, you jolted back into reality.

“How? What? But? What?” She laughed that wonderful laugh, finding you short-circuiting at her presence amusing. You were quick to snap her up into a hug. Her comforting smell washed over you. Apples, cocoa butter, and Ona. Home.

“Oni, you’re really here?” You whispered, still in shock

“Sí, amor, I’m really here."

-------------------

The Proposals

You both knew the other one wanted to propose. You had discussed as much over a shared bowl of ice cream.

“Do you … I mean … would you ever … could you ever … maybe … one day ... I don’t know … get … married?” You had stuttered and stumbled through the sentence, blushing profusely as she took your face in her hands. She had waited until you had met her gaze before saying earnestly.

“I have never wanted anything more than to be able to say that you are my wife.” Your heart swelled. How was this fantastic, incredible, stunning, beautiful, funny, kind, wholesome woman letting you love her?

“Would you … who would … do you … ask?” She wasn’t confused by your incomplete sentence; she had known you for long enough that you got like this sometimes, especially when things were important to you, but you didn’t know how to say it.

“Who would propose to who?” she asked for clarification, shifting over to sit in your lap. Her hands fiddled with your fingers as your other hand automatically came to draw shapes on her back.

“I mean … Ale told me that she and Olga agreed they would propose to each other. We could do something similar. That way, we both have rings, if that’s something you want, and we both get surprised, and neither of us feels like it’s all on the other or them.” God, she was so smart. This had been on her mind for a while now, but she didn’t know if you wanted to ask or be asked. She didn’t know if she wanted to ask or be asked.

“I like that idea.” You said quietly, smiling shyly at the thought of marrying Ona.

“Then that’s what we’ll do, sí. We both get rings, we both ask, and we both get asked. It’s a win, win, win.”

You didn’t tell her that you already had a ring tucked away in your locker at the training centre, and she didn’t tell you she already had a ring buried in the bottom of one of her drawers.

You didn’t have a big plan for asking Ona to marry you. You had fallen in love with her all those years ago in the comfort of your own home, so that’s where you wanted to do it. You had fallen in love with her in the mornings when you both had bedheads, big T-shirts on, and sleep in your eyes. Of course, you had fallen in love with her in many other ways at many other times, but this was an Ona only you got to see.

It was a rare weekend off. You had stayed up most of the night laughing it away, tracing shapes onto Ona’s back as she pressed kisses on your neck and jaw. The morning light woke you up, Ona still tightly in your arms, and you knew you would propose today. You had already been told by her Abuela to hurry up and marry Ona before she died. You could feel when Ona woke up; her breathing shifted as she snuggled further into your neck, always desperate for more sleep. You stayed like that until 10, no longer able to put off the allure of food.

“Oni …” you handed her a plate of pancakes and turned back for her mug of coffee. The ring in your other hand. Everyone had said they were nervous about proposing, yet you only felt love, happiness, and excitement for the next chapter in your lives. “Et casaràs amb mi?” You asked as you opened the box. She blinked – a slight flicker of doubt crossed your mind. Maybe she didn’t want this after all? She tackled you, instantly snapping you out of your worry. The force sent you both to the ground. “You just asked me to marry you.” She called out happily. “In Catalan.” She added, making you both laugh. She kissed every part of your face she could reach.

“I’ll take that as a yes then?” You asked.

“Sí, sí, sí. A thousand times, sí.” You pulled her down to you, pouring your emotions into a kiss.

After your proposal, Ona was really thinking hard about what to do. She knew you didn’t want something big or public; she didn’t want that either. But she wanted to do something special, something meaningful and heartfelt. Your proposal had been the most perfect thing: unexpected but brilliantly capturing the essence of your relationship. She decided to wait a little while, allowing the suspense and surprise to build.

It was a cold day in Manchester when she decided to pop the question. The pair of you were visiting for the Derby Day match, flying out immediately after your game yesterday. Where better to do it than where you fell in love? She had told Leah her plan ahead of time, knowing she was the most likely to keep her mouth shut. She asked her to call you both onto the pitch and keep everyone out of the changing rooms while she asked.

After watching a rough match, Manchester could be officially named Red again. As you cheered with your United friends and laughed at those from City (kindly, as you kept reminding them), Ona knew she was making the right decision to ask you now. So much had transpired between you two, most of it here in Manchester. At Old Trafford, you had become in-synch on the pitch. At Old Trafford, you had taken those first tentative steps towards something more than a friendship. At Old Trafford, you had witnessed your love grow together.

“Hey, amor. Let’s go wait for the others in el vestuario, si? I want to see if anything’s changed.” She smiled as you nodded, fingers interlinked and arms swinging between you. You had wanted to keep the engagement quiet, at least until she had asked you back, but that didn’t stop her from wearing her ring on a necklace (except when she was at training – she left it, pride of place on her bedside cabinet), carefully tucking it under clothes, letting it dangle close to her heart.

“It’s strange how familiar this all feels. We haven’t played here in years, and yet you and I are walking down the tunnel at Old Trafford with a Manchester painted red. It’s strange but in a good way,” you said as you pushed open the door, guiding her through with a gentle hand on her back like you always used to do.

“Entiendo. But this is where it all started. Where we started.” It was the perfect segue to her asking you. “Mi amor, turn around.” She said as she sank onto one knee. You did, frowning slightly as you weren’t met with those gorgeous eyes.

“Oni,” you gasped as you took in the sight in front of you.

“Mi amor. I have loved you every day for years. I will love you every day for the rest of my life. Et casaràs amb mi?” Her speech wasn’t long or complicated. You knew how much she loved you, and she knew that.

“Oni, I don’t speak Catalan, remember?” You teased, eyes fogging over with unshed tears.

“Oh, no, you don’t. You don’t get to use that excuse with me anymore.” She laughed, standing up and holding onto one of your hips. “Will you marry me, amor?” Her voice was so soft and gentle.

“Yes,” you laughed as she slipped the ring onto your finger. “A thousand times, yes.”

-------------------

Telling Lucy

You kept the engagement to yourself for a week. Neither of you wanted to hide it anymore; you wanted to proudly wear your ring. It was a random Tuesday morning as you walked in, hand-in-hand. You pressed a kiss to her temple as you drifted over to Lucy.

“Morning, Luce,” you said, acting as if you weren’t going to get married to the love of your life.

“Morning, kid. You alright?” She asked, clearly distracted by something Keira was showing her.

“Yeh, not bad. I got my nails done after training yesterday. Do you like them?” You stuck your hand under her nose. Keira was the first to spot it. The dainty ruby winking at here even in the fluorescent changing room lighting. Her eyes shot to yours before she looked at Ona, who was standing with Aitana. Ona had chosen a ruby for the stone (she had told you it was because Manchester was red, but she knew it was your favourite), and you had done a similar thing, picking an emerald that stood out against her pale skin.

“You haven’t even looked at them, Luce” Keira helped. God, Lucy could be so thick sometimes.

“What, oh, yeh they’re really …” She trailed off as you wiggled your fingers. “Holy shit.” She shouted. “You’re getting married?”

-------------------

I'm sorry it's long, but I just couldn't figure out which bits to cut and whatnot. Anyways, that's the end of the story. I hope you guys enjoyed it. And thank you for supporting me - it means a lot &lt;;3<3<3

[arthenaa]

ikaw at ikaw (only you) — mizu x f!reader

synopsis: 4 times your team lead chose you and 1 time you chose her.

content: modern!au, office romance, you and mizu are creatives, specifically in the character and concept design department in a very very famous gaming company (take a guess), she is your creative director and lead designer and you are the concept artist, 4+1 format, FLUFF, work relations, dynamic, and position might not be accurate, forgive me, this is basically just me projecting yet again.

a/n: this is requested by @andieperrie18 ! the answer shit isn't letting me edit my answer so ill be @-ing you here. TYSM FOR ENJOYING MY WORKS !! means a lot ... u also chose pasilyo 🥹🥹🥹🥹 sunkissed lola is the best

1.

Being part of the creatives team was a nightmare.

To tell you the truth, the position for a Concept Artist with a specialty in 2D design wasn't actually all that bad. The monthly benefits and wage were something you're quite lucky to receive considering the constant side eye other departments have with the admin's treatment of the artist employees. This was also your dream job—having had to play their games, specifically, VALORANT, left you in awe and gearing to apply once you were ready for an Internship. After your OJT course, you were accepted for a position in Character and Concept Design and are considered one of the team's most beloved artists (Your followers on Twitter reckon so).

In short, the work environment was great. A solid 15/10 experience—I mean how can you beat a company that caters not only to you as an artist but also as a player? Nothing can beat that feeling of satisfaction once you see your work displayed on various monitors all around the world.

It was more of ... the relationships and interactions with that work space environment that left you grasping at a chance to breathe.

People think you're overreacting but you think it's completely reasonable.

"Yes, you are overreacting."

Your face falls at Taigen's words—watching as he plays a round of unrated in the company's leisure space decked with state of the art PC builds that could definitely beat your poor touchscreen fridge with just a move of its mouse. You could hear the familiar voicelines of Jett from VALORANT as he uses the character's abilities to swiftly enter the site and take a hold of the defenders' positions.

Taigen is part of the Gaming Development Department in the VALORANT Team. He often does routine user gameplay checks and one of its perks is that you literally just have to play the game and get paid for it. You think its unfair but then again, its Taigen. He's always unfair.

"I think you're just saying that to be mean," You frowned, eyes trained on his face—the lights reflecting back on his stupid, stupid, clear-skinned face. Taigen rolls his eyes but not an ounce of his focus leaves the game.

"Being honest equals to being mean, got it." Taigen's voice comes out in a sarcastic tone. You kick a speck of dust on the cement floor, twirling in the gaming chair you're seated on.

"I just think its a reasonable thing to complain about!" You throw your hands in the air in an attempt to get him to look at your side of things. "You're completely unfazed because your team lead has the patience of a mother with 7 kids."

You hear the familiar cue of an ACE kill as Taigen hits a headshot on the last player. The game's interface shifts to the winner screen and finally, he turns to you, pulling his headphones off and giving his best deadpan stare.

"You're freaking out over Mizu sighing over your concept design proposal for Neon and overanalyzed even the way she drank her coffee because you're obsessed with her like that." Taigen arches his eyebrow to make the situation all the more ridiculous. Your mouth closes and opens like a fish out of water. "Am I right? Wait no, don't answer that. I know I am."

"What the fuck?" Your voice comes out in a desperate attempt of self-defence but it ultimately just sounds defeated. Taigen chuckles as he turns back to his monitor to take a look at the game stats.

"Look," Taigen tries to be empathetic but you're pretty sure this is just to get you off his back. The queue for competitive is already up and running. "As your friend, I say this with the love that I have for you and your works but please, Mizu is just one woman. If my mind process went like yours, I would've assumed Akemi hated my very existence and this is coming from someone who IS dating Akemi."

You purse your lips in thought as he raises his eyebrows in exaggeration. You're not exactly sure why you approached Taigen with this problem but he was the only familiar face that you saw after walking out of the meeting room in a hurry.

But then the question in this situation is who exactly is Mizu?

Well, there were a lot of things you could associate with the familiar blue-eyed director. Mizu is your boss—the creative director for Concept and Character design for the VALORANT team. She oversees character ideas, map visuals, detailing, and the final approval for character and asset ideation before it's sent for building in the 3D and VFX departments. She is your employer but you can also consider her your friend, albeit a highly respected one (she did the character design for Jett and Yoru).

It's not that you were obsessed—Taigen is wrong, he's always wrong—it was definitely because you respected her very much. Being a Riot Design Lead is basically fucking God. You create and give life to ideas. She's part of the original team that worked on the pre-release of VALORANT during its early stages and got to see the whole thing unfold. Something you wished to see back then but glad that you were able to become part of the journey despite being a few patches late.

You respected her enough to always want to be on her good side. I mean, who wouldn't? She's talented and very... youthful-looking and one of Riot's youngest leads, you honestly think that being worried over her approval like this is just a matter of respect and definitely NOT obsession.

"You're doing that thing where you space out and I have to assume that it's probably because of Mizu, yeah?" Taigen's voice intercepts your reprieve and suddenly, a curl of your eyebrows creates a look of annoyance on your face.

"I am not obssesed with Mizu," You reiterate, but this time with your mouth. "I just... respect her."

Taigen leans back on his gaming chair, nodding as if you just told him that he didn't need to double double-click everything.

"That's the most unbelievable shit I've heard today," Taigen finally replies with a scrunch of his nose. Your jaw falls open.

"I do not!"

"Do too."

"Do not."

"Do too!"

"Do fucking not—Stop it."

Taigen purses his lips, and makes a motion of zipping his mouth and shaking his head. You huff in anger. Taigen was never going to believe you.

Just as you were about to chastise him again for being mistaken, a knock on the glass doors notifies you of a new presence. You turn by instinct and your eyes widen in shock and probably, dread—who knows.

"There you are," Mizu's voice filters through your ears like classical music on a good Friday evening. You stammer slightly as she enters the area, eyes trained on you through those tinted orange specs. Mizu momentarily greets Taigen who only raises his hand in greeting before turning towards the screen (only you can see through your peripheral vision that this motherfucker is laughing). "I've been looking for you."

"You did?" Your voice comes off quiet. Mizu furrows her eyebrows.

"Uh, yeah?" She replies with a confused tone. "I had your concept design for Neon approved, it was more direct compared to Matt's. I wanted to tell you in person since you just bolted from the meeting room."

You fall silent at her words. She looks a bit concerned as you try to make sense of the information.

"You seem in shock—Are you okay?" Mizu asks, eyes glancing towards Taigen who looks at her before shrugging.

You feel your heart speed up. You momentarily calm yourself before finally responding. "Y-Yeah, sorry. Just didn't think that you'd approve it."

Mizu tilts her head like a fucking cat and you're quite sure you would drop dead then and there. "Why not? It's your work."

You're not sure what she means by that but a sudden shiver runs through your veins at her praise and suddenly your cheeks are flushing.

"Ah," You're voice fills in the silence, awkward and quiet. "Thank you?"

There's a pause of silence before Mizu chuckles. She heaves a breath before pulling the glass door open.

"I'll see you at my office, Y/N." She smiles. "Great work."

The silence further pushes you into the void as you and Taigen watch her exit and disappear into another hallway through the glass windows. Just as you were a few minutes ago, you lean forward to slouch over your knees, hands on your face as you meltdown from what just happened. You hear Taigen chuckle beside you.

"Give it a few more months and she'll give you a ring on your finger with a bent knee on the ground."

You sob into your hands as Taigen erupts in heaps of laughter.

Oh my fucking God.

2.

The release for Neon was a hit. An all-time new duelist originating from the Philippines, your concept design took off without a hitch. It's safe to say that your hard work paid off as you stood over the central common room—leisure areas decked with your coworkers trying out and celebrating the release. A sense of satisfaction fills you.

"I hear you spearheaded the design concept for Neon," A voice infiltrates your sense like a lure. You can't help but smile at its familiarity. Akemi wraps her arms around your waist, chin on your shoulder as she continues. "Marketing was thrilled with the positive response. Good job."

You turn around, her arms loosely accommodating you. "Akemi," you coo.

The girl grins wide and pulls you into a hug. You return the affection in a grander gesture of squeezing her tight against you.

Akemi's part of the Marketing Department for Riot. While she often creates publication material for VALORANT, she also has cross work with League of Legends for its various strategic releases (ie. KDA).

"I just want to say that I already predicted Neon would be a sure hit, it's your work after all," Akemi pulls away from the hug with a smug smile. She grabs your hands in hers, swinging them slowly. "Marketing it was like a breeze in the park."

You laugh softly at her enthusiasm. "You give me way too much credit."

Akemi rolls her eyes affectionately. "Humility is a disease—live a little."

You shake your head at her quips, opting to smile in response. A member of your team passes by, eyes widening in recognition of you before giving you a thumbs up. Akemi watches the interaction—eyes trained on that person's figure as they walked towards Mizu who was busy talking to other creative team leads. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion at her prolonged silence.

"Who are you—?" Your words trail off as you turn to look at what she's so focused on before turning back at the sight of Mizu. "Nevermind."

Akemi raises her eyebrow with an amused look on her face. "Taigen always has a penchant for exaggerating but I didn't think it was this bad?"

Your face falls at the information. "Taigen told you?"

Akemi gives you a 'duh' look—eyebrows raised and eyes half-lidded. "Taigen's a loose lock if you pry hard enough. He basically can never keep a secret."

You give her a deadpan stare before shifting in your position. Akemi crosses her arms over her chest as she eyes you up and down—filled to the brim with amusement. "I'm fine, stop making a big deal out of it."

"Uh huh," Akemi squints her eyes playfully. You could only glare back in response.

The loud cheering at the front catches your attention as resident workers, interns, and newbies alike begin to tune in at the commotion. Akemi and you move to the sidelines, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you tried to find out what's happening.

"What's happening?" You ask the person to your front. He turns, eyes beaming with excitement.

"The creative director for C&C got pulled in a 1v1. They're playing against Beckham."

Your breath hitches at the information. Akemi nudges you with her elbow, overhearing the conversation. The two of you move to the side, finally getting a glimpse of the two team leads focused on a custom game of VALORANT. Your eyes zone in on familiar raven locks seated on the right monitor.

A live stream of their game is projected on the monitor up front and suddenly you feel sick from the amount of butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

She's playing Neon. The character you designed.

Oh God. You watched her take kill after kill, headshot after headshot as she sprinted across the map—zapping characters with Neon's electric abilities. You've never seen someone look so fucking hot playing an FPS game before. It's doing things to your brain.

Just as you expected, the winning banner appears on Mizu's screen and the C&C Team erupts in cheers. You become entranced at the sight—a few of your co-workers patting her on the back before she erupts in smiles and laughs. This is not healthy for your heart.

And just as you think the night couldn't get any better, one of the people from the Marketing departments begins stirring up an interview.

"What made you choose Neon on the character pick? You usually go for Sentinels, no?"

Your eyes meet and suddenly you could feel your heart skip a few beats. Mizu chuckles.

"Wanted to do a duelist around for a spin," Mizu replies. "The design and character visuals for Neon was amazing and I ought to pay the artist who did it a homage."

Suddenly all eyes are on you—some of them even "ooh-ing" for being praised by Mizu. You pale at the attention before doing a hesitant bow in gratitude.

Mizu pulls the headphones off her head and smiles. "Congrats, Y/N. Hope you liked the win."

You feel Akemi stir up beside you, chuckling at the interaction.

You're going to die. You can feel it and its all because of your boss.

3.

Okay, maybe admitting that you were a little bit obsessed and crushing over your employer was a bit overdue. You weren't exactly the type to parade your feelings around the office but if people were to zone in on you acting sheepish and awkward around Mizu, there was a 55% chance that you could tell based on that alone.

It wasn't like your admiration for Mizu started on a whim. As said countless and countless times, it had a foundation of respect until Mizu started trying to get to know and interact with you and those same feelings of admiration started to change. What else were you supposed to do? Mizu is a fucking all-in-one holiday basket—you didn't have it in you to resist the charms.

It also didn't help that over the past few days, Mizu seems to have her undivided attention on you. Showering you with praises, asking if you wanna spearhead a certain project, revel in your work—all that shit. It's messing with your productivity and mindset and that's not a good idea.

The Head Director for the VALORANT Team had decided to call a night out for drinking to reward the team for the positive feedback for the latest patch. You were quite thankful for the opportunity as this was a way for you to get a moment of rest from Mizu's constant attention. Not that you were complaining, it's just a little... too much.

You were seated at the far right booth of the restaurant, keeping to yourself as you watched Ringo and Taigen begin to have a debate about team composition. Akemi grumbles beside you, clearly not enjoying whatever the fuck these two were talking about.

"Look," Taigen holds his hands out in front of him, trying to make a point. "All I'm saying is if you keep putting DPS builds on your team comp, how in the hell will you be able to maximize their kit? Supports are there for a reason."

Ringo rolls his eyes. "It's called enjoying the game, Taigen. So what if I want to put dick 1, dick 2, and dick 3, together?"

Taigen's jaw drops. "Do you know how much skill point dependent they are? I'm even surprised you could bust a skill out." The raven haired man pauses before continuing with a face contorted in disgust. "And stop calling them dick 1,2,3? It's Dan Heng, Blade, and Jing Yuan."

"Of course you'd police that as well. You look like that fucking emoji." Ringo raises his prosthetic hand, imitating pushing up a pair of glasses. "Um, actually—"

"You are as annoying as my grandmother, do you know that?" Taigen snarls, eyes pulled into a glare. Your tall huggable co-worker only grins and bats his eyelashes.

You begin to tune out the two as Akemi excuses herself to take a cigarette break—already having enough of their banter. You eye the glass of beer in front of you, watching as the liquid sloshes around with each twirl of your wrist.

You had hoped to end the night with silence but alas, you can never get everything that you wanted. You feel a pair of eyes on you—direct and unashamed. Already having a feeling on who this was, you looked up and met the reflection of the ocean.

'You okay?' She mouths, concern overflowing her features. It's subtle enough for people to not notice her sudden shift of attention but enough for you to understand her. Your cheeks flush as you nod back with the same softness that she had thrown your way.

She nods in understanding, sending a soft smile your way before turning back towards her conversation with the Head. You hang your head down, wishing that the night would end faster so that you can finally have the moment of peace you have been wanting ever since this morning.

It was as if the world decided to cast hell upon you and revoked you of your rights to peace at the arrival of yet another problem.

"L/N!" The Head Director's voice encompassed the whole area—eyes turning towards him then at you in amusement. "You're one of the star employees and yet you haven't touched a single speck on that glass of yours!"

His hearty laughter follows—giggles and cheering from you co-workers following suite. You sweat drop, eyes darting to Taigen and Ringo who both looked away at your glare before turning towards the window where Akemi sends you a gracious thumbs up, a cigarette hanging from her lips. You groan.

"I-I'm fine," You wave your hand, laughing it off. Your eyes connect with Mizu, an unreadable look on her face as she takes a sip of her chosen beverage.

God decides to punish you more as the team lead beside Mizu chimes in. "Oh c'mon! You're a great asset to the company! I suggest drink up!"

One of your team members passes a full pint of beer as the others begin to urge you to drink up. You hadn't felt the intensity of peer pressure ever since your dance recital on 10th grade and that wasn't even as half bad as this. You weren't feeling on drinking yourself to death as well so trying to down a full pint of beer was a ticket for you to the afterlife (ie. you on your bed with puke all over the floors). The previous pint you had was enough.

You tried to decline as humbly as you could, afraid that this might be the instance that you could finally be fired off from Riot. You knew that if they kept pushing a 3rd more of their attempts that you'd probably give in for the sake of never doing this again but while the need hasn't yet arisen, you'll try fighting off the urge to be a people-pleaser.

Just as you finally begin to decline for the nth time, a hand emerges to your right—pushing the pint of beer in your co-worker's hands. The table falls silent. Your breath falters as the familiar scent of lavender and probably a hint of sunlight begins to seep in from behind you.

"Stop pressuring her like that," Mizu's voice sounds so close —your heart hammering off your chest. Your co-worker gives Mizu a sheepish smile.

"C'mon Mizu, let your team live a little!" The Head laughs once more before leaning forward with a smug smirk. "Unless you'll save this one yet again?"

There's a pause of silence as your co-workers darted between them—back and forth. You feel Mizu sigh behind you before her arms encase you against the table, one arm placed on the beside you each. Your breath hitches.

"Sorry," She mutters as she reaches for the pint. You stammer, turning towards her as you reach out to her wrist by instinct. Mizu blinks with her eyes wide open, suddenly surprised by your actions.

"Y-you don't have to!" You murmured, trying to keep your voice low. Mizu's eyes are unreadable. "You don't drink—!"

The woman chuckles before patting your hand and gently pulling herself off your grasp. "It's okay." She says.

You watch with stammering breath as she gulps the pint in one go, others cheering as she did. The Head claps.

"Didn't expect to see Mizu downing a beer today but here we are," The man bellows in laughter. Mizu chuckles, wiping the residue off her lips. You could only stare at her in shock.

Mizu glances down at you with a smile before patting your head then walking off. Your gaze trails on her and somehow the hammering within you becomes all the more intense.

Oh, Lord.

4.

It was supposed to just be a little game—a past time that the others decided to force you along. You really had no qualms joining games like this but if it concerns the people around you, especially in your work place, somehow you feel the risk of being outed for liking someone in you work space.

"If you guys wanted to date someone in the office, who'd you pick?" Ise leans forward, eyes squinted as she gives you and Akemi a smirk. The three of you were currently lounging in the cafeteria during you lunch break. There weren't many people present due an event going on in one of the building's sectors, so having a conversation like this somehow was less anxiety inducing.

"Taigen, unfortunately," Akemi deadpans. Ise rolls her eyes.

"I mean! Besides him," Ise whispers excitedly. "There's a newbie from marketing that looks cute but kinda quiet, maybe he's nice."

"You mean Takayoshi?" Akemi raises an eyebrow as she takes a sip of her tea. You glance back and forth between them.

"Is that his name?" Ise watches Akemi nod in response. "Well, I'll just have to go get his number then."

Akemi shakes her head at Ise's musings and you had hoped that the conversation would end there, but Ise suddenly turns to you with that mischievous look in her eye.

"What?" You whisper out, eyebrows furrowed in innocence. Akemi side glances you, the corners of her lips upturned in a smile. God, she was enjoying this too.

"What about you, Y/N?" Ise props her arm on the table, placing her cheek on her palm. "Got someone you're interested in?"

You avoid eye contact. "No."

Ise leans forward with a gasp. "You do!"

"I don't!" You reiterate with urgency. You turn to Akemi with a frantic stare. "Tell her I don't."

Ise turns to Akemi who smiles. "She doesn't."

"Bullshit." Ise deadpans. "The moment I'd believe Akemi with a smile on her face is the moment I'd die," Akemi flashes her middle finger at her to which Ise returns generously. Finally, the girl turns to you—chair scooted over to your right as she flashes you her doe eyes. "So? Who is it?"

You Akemi chuckle against her cup as you stammer in front of Ise. "I don't really like someone though?"

"Lies," Ise declares. "We might not be that close but you got that twitch in your eye that already tells me something. Who is it?"

"Ise," You plead, eyes darting around the space. Somehow, saying it out loud meant that you're solidifying the fact that you liked Mizu—an occurrence you'd like to keep to yourself as much as possible. You loved Ise, you really do. You worked with her hand in hand in bringing Neon to life (You worked on her design while she worked on the 3D build) and have become tremendously grateful for her critique and contributions to your work. But this, this was something else. You could feel your heart speed up as she started listing some names.

"Is it Beckham? That piece of shit always too full himself." Ise places a hand on her chin in thought. "Or Ringo? Nah, he's way too focused on content map-building."

There's a pause of silence before an 'aha!' look spreads through her face. You prayed that she would get it wrong but this is Ise we're talking about.

"Is it perhaps," Ise pauses, eyes darting all over your face. "Mizu—"

"What about me?"

The three of you tense, eyes darting behind you as you turn to find the familiar stance of your boss. She leans forward, a hand on the back of your chair as she gives the three of you a curious glance. You hadn't heard her at all, and something about Ise's frantic glance towards you says she didn't expect the same thing as well.

"W-we we're just listing people we found attractive," Ise laughs uncomfortably under Mizu's stare. The creative director glances at Akemi who raises an eyebrow at her. Somehow there was a silent conversation going on between the two that left you confused.

"Really?" Mizu asks, the ends of her words trailing off as she glances back at Ise. "Who said I was attractive?"

"It was Y/—"

"NO ONE!" You exclaimed, cutting Ise off with a jump. You flush under Mizu's wide gazed, surprised at your interference. Somehow, the way you said it implied that no one found her attractive at all, and that was way too wrong so you caught yourself before you delved into a pit of despair. "I mean, w-we haven't started and was just listing people off."

Mizu nods slowly in understanding, eyes examining your face for any slip-ups. You looked away from the intensity.

Ise finally saves your ass. "Yeah. What she said."

"What about you, Director?" Akemi chimes in from your left and both you and Ise turn to her with wide gazes. She simply smiles over her cup, face contorted in a mischievous look. You couldn't read Mizu at all. You had expected Akemi to drop it—after all, she wasn't even joining in on Ise's incessant need to know everything about everyone. "Who do you find the most attractive in this office, hm?"

You can feel Mizu shifting behind you before a chuckle pulls out from her lips. You turn towards her in curiosity as she flashes a smile towards you.

"I'd pick Y/N, of course,"

Huh?

Akemi rolls her eyes, somehow already expecting the answer. Your jaw drops at her response as Mizu turns to Ise who already has a knowing look on her face.

"She's just that reliable," Mizu looks back down towards you, those shades of blue peeking from her tinted glasses. She pinches your cheek in a flash before pulling away. "Cute too."

You turn away, afraid that the flush on your cheeks might've given you away.

"Anyways, I just dropped by to see what's happening outside the event," Mizu sighs, pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. "I'll see you girls around."

Your interactions always end up one sided somehow. She gives and then leaves—resulting in you malfunctioning from whatever she's left for you to deal with.

Ise turns to you with a mischievous grin when Mizu finally turns the corner. "You and the Director huh?"

"Shut up, oh my God."

+1

"Why do you always do stuff like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you're not leaving me any room to process the shit you do?"

Mizu lets out quiet laughs from beside you. 10:47 pm. Normally, work hours in the office end at about 9 but you've learned that staying late is where the good things happen.

"I literally just told you 'good job' the other day and you malfunctioned in front of me," Mizu giggles, leaning forward as she tapped you on the nose with the pen to her digital tablet. "And I heard everything by the way. Quite adorable of you to deny everything."

You flush under her affectionate gaze. "Everyone's so gossipy. You can't blame me."

Mizu turns her chair towards you, arms reach out to take a hold of your own before pulling them close to her side. You lean back at her sudden proximity.

"Well you can't blame me either when you're this adorable," Mizu grins. You furrow your eyebrows, finally leaning close as you cupped her cheeks within your palms.

"You even drank beer," You whisper, tone apologetic. "You don't even like alcohol."

Mizu leans into your touch. "And you don't like being pressured into something you don't want to do. I can sacrifice a little bit of something I don't like just for you."

You melt at her words, eyes darting over her softened features. "Thank you," You whisper, grateful.

"Anything for my girlfriend," Mizu teases. You roll your eyes before pulling her into a soft kiss. She kisses back instantly, hands gripping the arm chair as you take lead of the kiss. After a few pecks and chaste kisses here and there, you finally pull back—reveling in the soft flush across Mizu's cheeks.

"Also," You chime in. Mizu raises an eyebrow. "I was the one who pursued, not you. Correct that when they catch on."

Mizu chuckles at your words. "Right on. Akemi threatened me the other day, saying something like, 'I forbid you from dating Y/N Y/L/N, Mizu Tagawa!' Funniest shit, I've heard. If only she knew."

You pinch her cheeks, giggling at her words. "Of course, she's say that."

There's a pause of silence before Mizu turns to her work, a sketch of VALORANT's newest agent displayed on screen.

"Want to help me with the new guy?" She nudges towards the screen. "Heard he's French."

You turn to her monitor, dozens of details sketched on the edges with a version of her idea of the new agent. You grin, placing a kiss on her cheek.

"You could've just asked me to marry you." You tease. "Also, sure."

You turn towards the table and pulled her tablet towards you. Mizu scoffs as you take over her work.

"And if I actually did?"

"Sure, Mizu, sure."

"I'm serious!"

a/n: hey guys!!! this was so fun to write and honestly i was just inspired to do this request bc ive been drafting an office romance for mizu after the roommate thing. hope yall enjoyed ! if yall arent familiar with valorant, here are the agents mentioned or referenced (neon & chamber (french guy)). also mizu's last name is derived from master eiji's va! cary-hiroyuki tagawa!

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

What do you think about Sabrina? Are you like her, dislike her or neutral?

I don't have strong feelings about Sabrina beyond a general distaste for her "redemption." Sabrina was played as way too much of a willing bully for me to absolve her of her past actions without some serious apologizing on her part. Just look at these matching smirks from the Derision flashback!

[Image Description: Chloe and Sabrina smirking evilly while plotting to hurt Marinette]

That was the episode that blamed Chloe for all of Marinette's problems while showing Sabrina doing all the actual dirty work, which is very much a running theme in this show. Most of the things that Chloe gets blamed for should see at least part of the blame going to Sabrina, too, but that's not what we get in canon. Sabrina spends multiple seasons helping Chloe torment people only to be welcomed on to team Miraculous before she even reaches her "redemption" moment (see: Penalteam). Now that Sabrina has done her one good dead, she's redeemed and is a permanent holder as a reward for that single good act, I guess?

The whole thing makes me deeply uncomfortable when I compare it to the way that the show handled Chloe. I only bring that up because, when it comes to Sabrina, I can't avoid thinking or talking about the Chloe thing because you never see Sabrina without Chloe! They're a matching set! They even have similar base stories with Chloe's parents influencing her behavior via their abuse and encouragement just like Chloe influenced Sabrina (which could have been a great discussion about abuse leading to abuse if this element of their writing had been even remotely intentional). Redeeming one and not the other invites you to make the comparison and it's unfortunately a comparison that's deeply lacking on multiple fronts.

If Chloè didn't earn a redemption - and I really don't think that she did, her redemption never truly stated - then neither did Sabrina. A sob story doesn't undo the harm that you've caused. A redemption doesn't even undo the harm! You can fully "redeem" yourself and still be rejected by those you hurt because your victims don't owe you a relationship. (Side note, this is where Chloe and Sabrina fall for me. In the early seasons, you could redeem them onto the team. Now? The writers took these two way too far to the point where they feel like totally different characters and even break early canon episodes because Marinette's treatment of them doesn't match who they supposedly always were.)

If they really wanted to redeem Sabrina, then they needed to highlight what makes her story different from Chloe's. As is, it feels massively hypocritical to welcome Sabrina onto the team after all that she's done to cause harm and after how little she's done to right that harm. At best, canon Sabrina should have just gone off to a new school to get a fresh start without Chloe. At worst, she should have become someone else's minion. Either way, she should not be treated as one of the "good guys."

Outside of that mess, Sabrina is just your standard minion character who gets minimal development, so it's hard for me to have a strong opinion on her. I think she's used well in the first few seasons, but she's still one of the characters that I'd cut or at least cut back on if I had my way with canon simply because she's not really necessary for the show to work and the cast needs to be cut down significantly. It's not that I hate her or anything like that. I just don't see why Chloe needed a minion or what Sabrina adds that another character can't.

For example, you could give Sabrina a solid character arc around developing healthy friendships and letting go of Chloe's influence, but why give that to her when you could give it to Mr. I've-never-really-had-friends-before-and-I-really-should-have-a-character-arc-around-that who also happens to have grown up with Chloe as his only friend? (That's Adrien by the way. Why go with Sabrina when you've got him unless you're using Sabrina to contrast Adrien in some way?)

[we-stan-cale]

Another key moment that I was too caught up in to blog about was when Cale and Choi Han met after Choi Han received the records from Choi Jung Soo.

We did kind of suspect it was coming, given Cale heard that Choi Han had collapsed after saying something about Choi Jung Soo - and at the time he seemed fairly calm about the prospect? His attitude seemed to be 'Choi Han might figure things out and be upset with me, but at least he's alive. We can deal with it so long as he's alive.'

And then there he is, burning up a lake of dead mana during a major fight, when Raon reports that Choi Han woke up...

Woke up crying, shouting about 'Kim Rok Soo', and immediately headed for Cale.

I guess first of all - what an amazing way to get one of Cale's closest compatriots to understand some of Cale's secrets. And history.

We all know Cale wasn't going to say shit, and his friends have seen enough to trust him even though they can tell Cale keeps a lot to himself, but we now have a solid reason (Choi Jung Soo passing along his ability, which required the records/memories) for at least one of them to know more. (With Alberu learning more later, and I suspect others eventually learning too).

This signifies yet another major shift in their relationship. One where Choi Han is much more of a friend than the subordinate he acted as initially. Not that he stops acting as Cale's knight, but there's a closeness that wasn't really there before. (All of which becomes even more obvious with Cale, Choi Han, and Alberu during the sealed god's test - and they are an amazing trio there! It was so fun starting my reread and remembering where they began, because they grow so close over the course of the story).

We also see some of what Choi Han saw, and I think this is the first time we really got an outside perspective of who Kim Rok Soo was before the transmigration.

Not just that, but hints of what Kim Rok Soo, Choi Jung Soo, and Lee Soo Hyuk were like before their tragic fight against the unranked monster.

We see how Kim Rok Soo supported the team with information, how he grabbed a metal board to block an attack on Choi Jung Soo, and even broke an arm in the process. Something Cale skipped over in his own flashback to the same event.

For the first time, we can truly see how Cale only tells part of the story...

We can tell Kim Rok Soo was devastated, not that it wasn't obvious before, but Choi Jung Soo was worried about him.

We also learn that, as Choi Jung Soo put it:

He would also take this Kim Rok Soo who claimed he was going to be a slacker and put him to work. If he left this punk to be a slacker, he was bound to go cause trouble somewhere. He and the team leader discussed making him farm with them, so that they won’t have to go save his ass.

Choi Han himself indicates that he figured out that Cale was Kim Rok Soo partly because they acted exactly the same.

And really, what sorts of things did Kim Rok Soo get up to, that they think he's a loose canon like that?

So team leader Kim Rok Soo probably was also constantly making trouble... Ah, the stories Team 1 could probably tell.

We have all that history, have Choi Han rushing to meet Cale on the battlefield...

And then we have one of the most ridiculous encounters imaginable.

Cale seems awkward and unsure on a way I don't think we've ever seen before. He's stuttering and worrying about things that seem kind of more a distraction than real concerns, and is avoiding his gaze (though he did make an opening for Choi Han in the wall of fire he set up while burning the dead mana, so he wasn't exactly avoiding Choi Han).

We also see how Cale is closely observing Choi Han for signs of anger, how he focuses on Choi Han's unthinking and instinctual touching of his sword which - is probably because of his traumatic childhood? We can see some of what Choi Han was thinking and knew he wasn't even considering hurting Cale, but Cale was obviously concerned about that).

And in the midst of all this. In the midst of this big dramatic moment, we have Raon commenting on how weird their being and - perhaps the most amusing part - the cheapskate ancient power still purifying the dead mana.

Yes, cheapskate. Good job. Keep on purifying that dead mana while Cale and Choi Han have their big moment.

Oh, whoops. I guess a major battle isn't really the time or place for that. Enter Dorph the Lion King, who won't even let them finish their conversation.

This whole encounter is equally moving and hilarious, really. And it's so nice that Cale finally has someone who really knows him.

[drawnfamiliarfaces]

Heyo! Quick question: Do the HoMies have a common place to meet up/chill/sleep between missions, or they just bust into any of the members' canon houses?

That's a question which kept invading my brain since I discovered your stuff. I'm especially curious on how you'll tackle June being unable to leave Orchid Bay because of her role of protecting her town.

Not really? 😅 They indeed most likely will crash in each other's towns/bases/homes, after a mission/team-up or just to hang out!

Jun is indeed a complicated situation, with her canonically being unable to leave Orchid Bay, but actually in HoM, there is a ... 'development' that allows her to temporarily leave it for a brief time! ;) It's going to be partially covered in Act 2, and more in depth in flashbacks, which I'm actually very excited about, because its one of the more important parts of this AU!

But honestly, besides Jun, others are also very location bound (even if they are not restricted by a magical barrier lol), so each of them would prefer to stay on their own territory for various reasons.

Danny is in or always close by to Amity, because it has a stable portal to the Ghost Zone. Jake is more or less required to stay on East Coast/New York because he is a guardian of one of the most central magical communities on the American Continent (the other major being Orchid Bay aka West Coast).

Kim, Zak, Jenny and Ben all have their solid homebases in their respective towns (or his parents/Saturday's mansion/lab house?? in Zak's case), but they travel a lot for work. Kim and Zak are more Earth bound, while Jenny and Ben also take trips to outer space. But each of them have a place where they can recuperate.

The only vagabond out of the lot is Rex (he is like a total opposite of home bound Jun lol), by circumstances and choice, so he often crashes in one of the other HoMies places, when he doesnt travel.

While I enjoy the AUs where heroes all live/work/chill out together in one complex (remember all those times of 2012 Avengers-live-in-Avenger-tower-domestic-shennanigans?? good times lol), I don't really want HoM AU to be like that, I guess. <;D

[cineflections]

You know, if there was one manga that would be adapted to live action and succeed, I never would have guessed it to be this one.

I'm ofc talking about the One Piece Live Action on Netflix

A whole day binge right after release, I was READY, and thankfully, I was not disappointed. There are cuts and streamlining of the story, characters coming in earlier than in the manga/anime, and some of the emotional bits don't hit as hard as in the original. Still, I can feel the love the production team has of One Piece. The characters are goofy and lovable, but they are also serious and straight-faced.

One thing that I noticed throughout was the constant close up to faces and sometimes straight on, as if almost breaking the 4th wall. The very first scene with Luffy is like this, but there he DOES look into the camera directly, but the pov of the camera is revealed to be a newsbird. It's like a statement that they know this is a silly pirate romp, they know that some people will not take this seriously, but they will not do 4th wall breaks silly, but in-universe silly. Does that make sense?

I laughed at several points in the show, big and wide smile on my face and pointing at the screen several times...

But I do wonder how much of my laugh was on the show's on merit or if I was only calling back on the the source material. At times I did feel the straw hat crew not being as iconic as in the manga/anime. The extreme reactions, the over the top noises and actions, at the same time I realize that real people generally don't act like that.

I appreciate the show runners attention to details. Putting stuff in to tease future arcs, adapting some cover stories, some of the complete unhinged behaviors of characters (Garp I'm looking at you!).

This show adapted Romance Dawn, orange town, syrup village, baratie, and arlong park.

There are so many moments that are almost scene by scene taken from the manga. Luffy in the barrel and meeting Koby. Alvida with her giant spike club. We got to see some pre-captured Zoro moments (particularly him killing a baroque works agent!), Nami being a sneak.

Then we meet the one and only clown Buggy! They hammed him up, they made him a showman and a real clown (with a real bulgy nose as well, props!). I loved Buggy. Goddamn what a show stealer. Excellent casting, his devil fruit was show cased so well and it looked good!

Usopp's introduction is the most changed. The kids are gone and the Black Cat pirates never call in the entire crew or Jango. Instead of the fight on the slope by the beach it's instead in Kaya's house from which they cannot escape. The actor for Kuro nailing the mannerism and hand movements, altho his "teleporting" looks a bit wonky.

With Baratie we are finally introduced to Sanji! Who's British now 😆. And Mihawk's introduction tho! Badass and just so over the top and goofy. I love him so much! This is where we got the biggest change where we instead get Arlong and crew coming in smashing the place up (a tiny bit). Arlong may not be as tall as he should be but I love the practical approach instead of CGI, which means he actually feels present! All the fishmen we see are guys in costume and prosthetics!

Arlong Park felt a bit more rushed than the earlier parts, but I do think they nailed *that* scene tho.

If the bar for live action adaptation was below the ground, I would say now there's a new bar, which is on the ground 😅. I think it's a solid show but it might be my bias talking. I do have some gripes tho.

One thing that was constant in East Blue Saga was how much village people hate or are scared of pirates. I think they got the marines right, and the pirates, but they failed to really have the village people be a character in their own right. In the manga and anime the villagers are mostly a monolith who will think and act alike in situations and be part of the happenings either by watching or fighting. We got just about none of it here, except a mention in Arlong Park. They did some really good and cool world building with lots of people populating the sets in the background - but that's it, they're just extras to fill out the screen. There are ofc a few exceptions but I felt it was not enough.

I wish they had Luffy be more agile when using his gum-gum powers. Whenever he springs a pistol or a whip is stands in place, which I found boring (and they did so well with Zoro's fights!). I do think the explanation is that they decided for Luffy to be coming into his powers as we go. That we will learn with him all the things he can do (him not knowing he can blow himself up like a balloon proves this). I hope that in season 2 (please netflix!) they show the growth in his fighting!

But to end this long post. I just wanna say how much I fucking love the dude playing Mihawk. Goddamn he's so fun. MVP.

For the straw hats, I would say that Usopp feels the closest to manga version, and Luffy feels the most distant from it. But I don't dislike this, and I think the actor for Luffy has so much potential to really make the role his own.

It will never be "just like" the manga and anime, but that's ok! It's a new adaptation (in live action) made by people you can tell loves the source material and really really tried to make it work! I respect that, and I respect this show. Please watch it on Netflix! It's a fun and silly time, just like it should be!

[erumai-maadu]

YOU KNOW WHAT I just read your post about the Kohona 12 hc and one thing I gotta mention: TEAM 10 AND TEAM 8 BEING BUDDIES YES PLZ THIS IS SO IMPORTANTE!!! Not just bc of their senses dating (which is also a factor) but-- Team 10 is an intel-gathering team, Team 8 is tracking and capturing, CAN YOU IMAGINE THE POSSIBILITIES????

These two teams would have been the BEASTS of the spy network. Ibiki is desperately trying to convince everyone to join the Anbu squad. The biggest hurdle is Hinata being a Hyuga (her eyes can get stolen) and Shikamaru (he's just lazy).

Ino makes sure everyone looks polished. They're gonna learn what you had for breakfast 12 years ago, hunt you down and drag you back (dead or alive), looking like models whilst doing it ✨

(i'm so normal about this, I totally don't think about them all the time)

YOUR BRAIN >>>>>>>>>

every day Ibiki goes to Asuma and Kurenai and is like “please make ur kids join ANBU in the future pls i’m begging u” and their kids r all like haha no thanks. hinata is like “maybe” for one second and her uncle is immediately like NOT THE BYAKUGAN. ibiki is so sad. he just wants some good spies. he’s trying his best.

anyway some random side thoughts i have about them.

In the part 1 anime filler Shikamaru does call on Shino and Neji for tracking a lot. I guess because Hinata’s a girl and they can’t let her do anything ever :/ truly bizarre. there’s literally a filler episode where Hinata goes “I can see paper bombs all over the village!” and everyone immediately turns to Neji and doesn’t do anything until Neji confirms it. i hate this show.

doyalist sexism aside, Shikamaru heavily relies on Shino and the Byakugan’s sensory abilities to formulate his plans and so I think he very quickly grows used to having team 8 with him when Tsunade lets him form a squad. It helps that they spend a lot of time together (thank you senseis dating) and I’m sure that aside from his own squad, they’re the ones he relies on most.

Choji and Kiba are probably the front line fighters, with Shino and Ino backing them up and Shikamaru at mid-range advising/strategizing. Hinata probably pulls double duty as their long-range sensor and a close range fighter/flanker when things get hairy.

everyone on both teams gets along well but it’s a struggle to get Kiba and Choji to get along at first. Kiba is a bit of an asshole (understatement) and Choji isn’t a huge fan of how aggressive Kiba is. Kiba, for some fucking reason, just canonically doesn’t like Choji when they’re younger. I’m sure there were a lot of fights and a lot of insults thrown around before Shikamaru and Ino got them to sit down and shut up.

Ino tries her best to keep the squad polished but it doesn’t work so well when they’re younger lmao. When they’re older tho…. most fabulous and on point squad out there. your other faves could never.

kiba the leather jacket wearing hottie, ino ‘every outfit i wear has been on point since age 12’ yamanaka, choji who is canonically referred to as the most handsome chubby guy in the leaf (insane statement but still), shikamaru who somehow serves while wearing the standard chunin uniform, shino’s mysteriousness inherently makes him hot, and hinata with her silky hyuuga hair and flawless skin

their formations are tight, their teamwork is seamless, their communication is solid, and they look good while doing it all. ibiki is in a corner crying. he wants them to come work for him so bad.

[italeteller]

Thoughts on Undead Unluck 208

I love horny women

ngl tho I'm kinda sad Rip's got abs this loop, I'd hoped he'd have a more regular-guy kinda body now that he's more doctor than fighter. Also I'm gonna be annoying and wonder if Tella could actually play the guitar or not with Untell. But also also... damn, look at all that beefcake buffet. Tozuka really knows how to keep the fanbase well fed

Sean's mom's likely dead like his dad, so he knows what Fuuko feels like wanting to see her mom again

Eyy they gave Julia a Union uniform, that's nice

Neat little detail, Sean has the mind to keep one eye open even when being splashed with water so as to not trigger Unseen with civilians around, you know he's been training his reactions

I guess this is implying Fuuko gets her looks from her dad? Seeing them side by side her eyes are rounder than her mom's, and her hairstyle looks similar to her dad's, though with her mom's color

Also it's really damn funny that Fuuko's dad is completely used to the disaster of a human being that is his future wife. The man loves his cringefail girl. Though also, it's weird that Fuuko doesn't seem to have realized that the guy is indeed her dad. Maybe she had more of a relationship with her mom?

I love that the Union can just call Fuuko's ass out and she remains eternally oblivious to her shonen MC behaviors

The fact that Unluck gets explicitly mentioned twice makes me think there's some negation fuckery afoot. I know everything we've seen so far makes it look like no two people can have the same negation at the same time, but still. Maybe it'll be a red herring, but I have to wonder

Ok, the big thing of the chapter. I have no idea what is going on, by all means it doesn't make sense, but Tozuka specifically brought up how this shouldn't be happening only to make it happen, so I believe he's got a plan, and the man plans good, so I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. I also wanna point out that this is the very first loop someone other than Juiz is the looper, so this is literally the first time this scenario is happening in this world

Baby Fuuko in her panpanda onesie is the cutest fucking thing I've seen all week

Ok so Billy and Tella are indeed part of the Tatiana rescue mission (no Nico in sight tho, which is weird). I was so fixated on Gina being part of the idol mission I didn't even think she'd be a big asset as the only other russian on the team. And Chikara also makes sense, a quick activation of Unmove might be able to freeze Tatiana's Untouchable before it can blow her parents to dust. I hope that's the only reason he's there, and Tozuka isn't planning to resume the nonsense ship this loop too

Rip and Latla are on Bunny duty, no surprises there (though again, no Ichico, which is weird) and Shen and Mui are training literally under Feng. Sad day for Mei fans though, she seems to have been demoted to tea girl and isn't even training anymore. Guess my hopes of her being the Mui of this loop are dashed

Hoo boy. I have mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, I desperately wanna see the whole Union play musical band. On the other hand, Tozuka has done a big group arc three times: on the 11 minutes fight, the Unmove arc and the Sick, and he only pulled it off on the 11 minutes fight. I'd much rather have only Gina, Mui, Latla (and Leila! Twin idols shtick!), Yusai and Haruka get solid focus than have a big group where a few people get most of the screentime and everybody else gets three panels like the Unmove and Sick arcs

Idk what Tozuka has in store for Kururu, but I don't see how she's gonna outshine all of this

[therobotmonster]

Gah, I love Turtles of Grayskull!

I'm on record for rambling about how much I love MOTU origins, an action figure line that provides solid value, craftsmanship, and a sense of fun in an era where everything is increasingly none of those things.

And Turtles of Grayskull understands both its contributors spirits intimately in a way many nostalgia projects don't.

Because nostalgia remembers the cool very easily. But it rarely remembers the silly and the stupid-fun.

You buy a bus ticket to "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles" or "He-Man and the Masters of the Universe" and you have to know that route will be winding almost exclusively through Historical Crazytowne.

And the Turtles of Grayskull/MOTU Origins team gets this. This isn't some Batman/TMNT crossover where they give you a bunch of cool mutant Arkham Villains and deny you toys of them (but a Michaelangelo wearing the bat-cowl is worth a sculpt, eye-roll).

Recent-ish stuff to ramble about:

Okay, not only is this just an awesome Hordak variant, he's conceptually blended with Lord Draxum. You've got the mutant bat-wings, to go with Hordak's vampire thing, but his shapeshifting weapon arm from the toon is very clearly a mutagen-blaster evoking the mutagen-mosquitos. You've got the shoulder pads evoking Draxum's little gargoyle boys. Fantastique!

I had wondered who Casey was taking inspiration from for awhile, but apparently the lore got revealed from his packaging, he's combined... with the WEAPON RACK/Pack.

Well, technically he raided it, but it's a clever option when it would have been easy to just put him in Man-at-Arms gear or give him a Man-E-Faces gimmick. Deep cuts are appreciated, as is that delightful amount of accessory swag.

Stealth Leo is just a cool Leonardo figure. He's the reason for my hypothesis that Mattel is low-key pitching to be the main TMNT figure company. April gets a sweet power up by being Combined with Zo-ar and the Sorceress, and the amount of new sculpting is impressive there. Nobody would have blinked if she'd been 90% Sorceress parts, so I appreciate it.

He-Man goes stealth ninja after he's de-mutated. that's cool I guess, but He's probably going to wind up with a different head when I get him. Skeletor, however, is everything you want in a repaint guy. 90s neon? Check, kusari-gama with goat skulls? Check. Tube of mutagen? Check. He's obviously a premold for the 2005 Samurai Skeletor but who cares? He's green!

Splinter-Skull is mostly OG Playmates Splinter, down to the face design, but he's got just enough King Grayskull in him to keep him a fun hybrid. In fiction, this is is the spirit of Grayskull taking on a form to match both sets of heroes asking for his help. Fun!

Leatherhead, on the other hand, is just Mattel auditioning to make normal TMNT toys again. Toss some WWEternia legs with some pants on that guy and he's basically the best and most in-scale Leatherhead to not come out of NECA. I look forward to the use of that tail on many, many snakemen related characters to come.

And yet there's more!

I thought this was going to be a four-wave limited thing. But apparently they're just keeping the train rolling until the wheels fall off, to which I say...

Wave 5 has been semi-revealed (no pics yet) and it's:

Variant Donatello, Variant Raphael, Mekaneck, and Rattlor!

Donnie and Raph are going to be costume variants like Stealth Leo, though I'm hoping they're not also stealth versions, because there's tons of other options to pull from.

My druthers would be them with accessory pak themes (cliff climber Raph, Scuba-Attack Donnie (to nod at the wind-up swimming donnie toy), etc). The Dontatello #1 gauntlet could be a fun accessory, and I wouldn't say no to a "slime pit zombie" Raph, but we'll have to wait and see.

The real thing that has me hyped is Mekaneck and Rattlor. I love reptile-people, and the Snake-Men give me a lot of them, so I'm always glad to get more options.

Mekaneck is one of the dorkiest MOTU characters and is thus one of my favorites. He's immensely goofy, and his origin implies that Man-at-Arms decided to fix the guy's broken neck by chopping off his head and giving him an extendable robotic spine. He also has the advantage of just being somebody's dad.

His son is named Philip, by the way.

I can't imagine them not making Mekaneck a wildly mutated weirdo. They had to pack his origins figure in with the road ripper to make him appealing, so I'm pretty sure he's gonna be a mutant. Fingers crossed for a giraffe head. Bonus points if its some kinda blue eternian giraffe or something.

And Rattlor, man, I want him to be a full on character hybrid so bad. Options: Tokka (snappers do have long necks), Snakeweed, Rat King (King Ratsnake?), Hothead & Scaletail.

[thewebcomicsreview]

Woah, it's a hamsteak! Bit early this month, maybe they're splitting it into two parts (Edit: Apparently yes, per a newspost). They've been teasing a big [S] page for a while, probably where the game starts in Meat and The Point is revealed in Candy, and these updates seem like they're getting everyone in position for that. We're now done with the Ship and with DIrk, and we won't see either until the [S] comes, but we still need to pick up the kids and see what Karkat is up to, so I'm expecting this is a setup-heavy update for an [S] page...next month, on 6/12? Let's see.

KARKAT: KEPT YOU WAITING, HUH?

Candy Karkat is blatantly Solid Snake and I'm a bit surprised the old team never had him riff a Snake catchphrase. New team popping that cherry right off. Also, wow, Karkles got swole.

MEENAH: took you long enough bossman KARKAT: I THOUGHT I ASKED YOU TO STOP CALLING ME THAT WHEN WE'RE ALONE. MEENAH: big bossman KARKAT: NOT BETTER. MEENAH: sweetie-pirate KARKAT: BOSSMAN IT IS.

We're just going all-in on the Metal Gear references, but Meenah loses fishpoints for not calling him Big Bass. It's right there, Meenah.

KARKAT: AS YOU MAY OR MAY NOT HAVE NOTICED THERE'S AN ESCALATING, LARGE-SCALE MILITARY CONFLICT UNDERWAY;

Is there? I hadn't noticed, because the war is entirely fucking offscreen in HS2, to the point where I'm really unclear on if it's huge open battles (as in the epilogues) or a terrorist insurgency (as implied by Jane's focus on PR, the lack of any on-screen fighting, and even here Karket saying he was blowing up "Crockercorp" supply depots instead of "human" supply depots). "Escalating" is an interesting word, though. I have a theory that Jane and Rose both don't consider any of Earth C's population "Real", and in Jane's mind she's basically just been larping as a bad guy up until her dad died and she got serious, and this is why Jane was seemingly cool with helping Jade raise Yiffy, even though Jade is a commander in the anti-Jane rebel army. Jane's going to just stop being evil on a dime and everyone but Rose and Jane are going to be baffled.

There was a writer commentary where they kept making jokes about doing this, but I guess it's real. Why is the Carapacian naked?

These guys, who are not guaranteed to survive to the end of the update, are already fucking great.

KARKAT: ALRIGHT, COMPANIES 1 THROUGH 3 ARE IN PLACE. KARKAT: 4 THROUGH 6 ARE EN ROUTE.

Is this the first 413 in HS2? I'm surprised they're not using 612, the troll number.

KARKAT: ALSO THIS COVERT-OPS SUIT IS TIGHT AS ALL FUCK. MEENAH: well if its any consolation that may be rough for you but its a pretty great time to be your rear admire-all 38) KARKAT: MUCH OBLIGED.

The ship no one expected!

KARKAT: NOT LIKE DAVE. MEENAH: how you feelin about that

I know Karkat hasn't had a lot of screen time in HS2, and I know they've justified why this is coming up now, but as far as Karkat knows Candy Dave A. Married Jade, and then B. Died fifteen years ago. Has this really not come up in fifteen years?

SOLLUX: there's like a bazillion m0oks swarming ar0und my crib and none 0f the grubereats dudes are accepting orders right n0w. SOLLUX: probably 0n account 0f your inc0nvenient ass war. SOLLUX: could y0u pick me something up? SOLLUX: i'm assuming you're 0n your way.

Is this...the first on-screen interaction between Karkat and Sollux since Cascade in 2011? It was worth the wait.

KARKAT: MAYBE YOU'D GIVE MORE OF A FUCK ABOUT THE REPRODUCTIVE FUTURE OF OUR SPECIES IF ARADIA WAS EVER ACTUALLY THERE LONG ENOUGH FOR YOU TO GET SOME. MEENAH: ohhh snapper KARKAT: ANYWAY YEAH I CAN PROBABLY SWING THAT.

This is maybe the most Karkat interaction ever. He's furious for extremely good reasons, he's constantly insulting his friends, of course he'll swing his A-team war truck by McDonalds on the way to the war zone to get Sollux something. Doesn't even occur to him not to.

KARKAT: AND WE NEVER LET IT GO. LOB 4: Well said, sir! KARKAT: WHAT THE FUCK. KARKAT: HOW LONG HAVE YOU ALL BEEN LISTENING? TER 2: Pretty much since the beginning, sir!

It's cool and thematic that these guys talk in Dave's colors but I'm unbelievably sad they don't have names.

KARKAT: COMMANDERS HARLEY, MARYAM, AND LALONDE ARE INBOUND, AND NOT LONG AFTER THEY GET HERE THINGS ARE GOING TO GET BATSHIT STUPID!

Last time we saw Vrissy, she was seeing Yiffy for the first time. I was expecting an update following up on that before the big everything coming together, but maybe they won't get a chance to talk yet

Because this sure feels like the last page before an [S]

Edit: But it isn't, the news post said another update this month.

[howlingday]

Jaune's Shampoo

Mawraider

"DAMMIT, NORA!" Jaune opened his shower door. As he exited, he noticed his body had drastically changed. Using a mixture of his shampoo and experimental goo found at the fiendish Dr. Merlot's laboratory, Nora had unwittingly created a mutagen just to prank her team leader.

Jaune pushed his way through the shower door, a loud crash echoing through the steamy room. He fell to the floor, catching himself on the slick tiles for a moment before his body scraped underneath him, and his chin smashed into the hard ceramic beneath. He gave a groan as he felt the aching and stinging in his mouth. He ran his tongue across to find where his teeth may be missing from, if there were at all.

"Huh." None were missing. "Guess I got lucky."

This luck was short-lived as he pushed himself to his arms, but his legs felt stuck. Actually, stuck wasn't the right word. Stuck implies individual movement hindered by another. This felt like he was moving both legs as one.. if that made sense, which it didn't for him.

"What the heck?" Jaune looked down, eyes nearly bulging as he saw large protrusions from his forearms. Were those... fins?! Not only that, but these fins had scales, too! He looked further down his torso and discovered his, er, other body parts were gone! Everything below his belly button was replaced by a long, solid white tail with fringes of yellow at his sides! "What the hell is going on?!"

"Would you keep it down in there?!" Jaune snapped his head to the door, where a melodious screeching voice muffled through. "Whatever 'teenage boy' problems you have can be resolved yourself! Quietly!"

Oh, this was not good. In fact, it was well beyond not good. He'd completely forgotten the study session Nora set up with him and Weiss! Wait, did Nora plan this whole thing together? Oh, she was the absolute worst!

"Uh, Weiss?" Jaune called. "Is there anyone out there with you?"

"No, it's just you and me." Even through the door, he could still hear her say 'Unfortunately' under her breath. "Everyone else is busy with some other study session." Another 'Unfortunately' could be heard, a bit louder this time. "Why? You didn't hurt yourself in there, did you?"

"Uh..." Jaune looked down at his body. "Maybe?"

"Unbelievable." Weiss sneered. "Not only are you late to our study session, but you're also injured." There was a drawn-out sigh for extra drama, as Weiss is wont to do. "Are you at least decent?"

Again, Jaune looked at himself. "Kind of?"

"Can you open the door?"

Dragging himself to said door, he looked up to the knob, realizing how close and yet so far away it was. "I'm here, but I can't reach the lock."

"Do you have your scroll in there, or do I need to get Ruby to emergency unlock it?"

"Uh, no and no! My scroll should be by my bed at the end of the room." Quiet thumps of footsteps grew softer, before returning to their normal timbre. "Um, before you open the door, I need you to promise me something!"

"And that would be?"

"Don't freak out?" He couldn't see, but she was rolling her eyes.

"I assure you," the door came open, "I have seen far worAAAAAIE!" Weiss ran to the dorm room door, slamming it shut behind her as Jaune tried crawling after her. Sadly, her bipedal and still very much human form beat out whatever abomination Jaune had going on.

"Yeah, I'd freak out, too." He said with a sigh.

Jaune crawled his way out of the bathroom, his body dragging across the carpeted floor. He didn't want rug-burn, so he tried his best to keep whatever human skin he still had stayed off the floor. Once he reached the desk, he struggled his way into the chair. Nora and Pyrrha shared a mirror up here for personal use. Looking in, he finally got a good look at himself.

His hair remained it's moppy, blond self, though the skin underneath had become coarser than it used to. Following the trail of yellow scales down, he passed his mouth full of serrated teeth, and caught a glimpse of a dorsal fin jutting from his back. Looking down from the mirror to his body, his pale belly shifted to pearl white down his new tail, which ended in a strange near crescent shape. If Jaune didn't think he was a monster, then this was one heck of a costume.

"What the hell happened?" Jaune asked. "No wonder Weiss ran away."

Weiss freaked out earlier, but how was everyone else going to react? Would Ruby still want to be his friend, or Yang, or Pyrrha, or Ren- Well, Ren was a pretty cool guy, so he'd still be his friend. Nora, too, though he'd be angry with her at first. Blake... Well, him and Blake were more friends of friends already.

Still, his mind raced to all the ridicule and disgust his change would bring upon him. He'd be kicked out of Beacon, ruining his dream. His family would disown him, leaving him out on the streets. He'd have to get a job as a traveling circus freak, or worse, be abducted for science experiments and-

"Here." Jaune looked to his side where a tissue limply hung from the delicate fingers of one Weiss Schnee. "Don't get any shark snot on me."

"Th-Thanks, Weiss." Jaune took the tissue into his clawed fingers, accidentally shredding them, and blew into the clumps of rags. "Ugh."

"My thoughts exactly." Weiss said, setting the box next to him. Taking the box, he grabbed more clumps of tissues. After a long silence without blowing, Weiss spoke. "How did this happen?"

"My best guess..." Jaune gave a sniffle. "Nora."

"I hardly think she's capable of genetically altering a human's body to this degree." Weiss said with a scoff.

"You don't know how bad her pranks can get."

"And when would she have time to change you into... this?"

"She must have put something in my shampoo."

"Hmph. I would have used honey."

"She did, last time." Jaune said, remembering his training session ending with him being attacked by Rapier Wasps that snuck into Beacon, mysteriously by a jar borrowed from Cardin. The former bully swore he had no idea why she needed his jar, but she did threaten to break his legs. "This time, she put it in my shampoo."

"...At least it doesn't smell bad."

"Did you just sniff me?" Jaune asked, looking to his crush. She turned away with a blush.

"I thought it might be a clue of how you changed into this!" She nearly screamed. "It's not my fault coconut and lemon would turn you into this!"

"Coconut and lemon?" Jaune asked. "I think that was my shampoo."

"Maybe." She said. "Do you remember the ingredients?"

"Uh... no?" He sheepishly chuckled. Sharkishly? Whatever. "All the ad said was that it was 'spicy fruit' that would 'make me smell like a big fish in a big pond'."

"Of course it did. It's Advertising 101: The Truth Doesn't Sell."

"Do you... Do you think there's a cure?"

Weiss was quiet for a long time. She walked over to the window and tapped into her scroll. She gave a huff and continued to do so. Having enough of looking at himself, Jaune fell from his chair as he attempted to climb down. He crawled over to his bed, his claws digging into the blankets and sheets he made that morning. He tried to lay on his back, only to feel uncomfortable as his dorsal fin almost bent, and chose to lay on his stomach instead. He watched her work tirelessly.

In the afternoon light, she looked like an angel. He fell asleep with those thoughts.

An hour passed when the rest of Team JNPR returned to their dorm. Weiss was asleep next to Jaune, her hand in his hair as they quietly dozed. Nora beamed at her partner. He simply sighed.

"I told you it would work~."

A special thank you to @rwby-encrusted-blog for the inspiration of this work. I hope it's up to your standards.

[possibilistfanfiction]

conservationist au already!? you write so fast dang (what are your secrets) (also it's okay if you want to keep them secret) (mostly i am excite for frog)

here she is! frog au! lol [ao3]

//

to see us blossom (while the green spreads like wings)

//

only our feet have been here, that i'm aware of. it's wild and remote and beautiful as can be. i just want to be quiet and love it. let it sink in. i'll be leaving the planet, sometime. and i'll miss it.

— dr. bruce means

//

'dr. silva,' diego bursts into your office, his hair fluffed and messy, 'i found someone for the expedition!'

'did you... run here?'

'yeah, from the lab.' he gulps a breath. 'i got excited.'

it's fucking awesome that diego, your favorite grad student, is coming on this expedition, but it's becoming a huge pain in the ass to plan — you try your hardest not to feel guilty about why, but it is mostly because of you — and is starting to feel more and more impossible by the day. you don't want to get your hopes up: you don't have that much funding, and it's starting to seem a little bit impossible logistically, even with dr. superion's help. but you'll humor him: 'so who are we taking with us?'

he waits a breath, practically bursting at the seams. 'beatrice zhang.'

'the photographer?'

'she's an experienced climber! you follow her on instagram, right?'

you have gratuitously followed beatrice zhang on instagram for the last four years — for her photography, because it is some of the most beautiful and thoughtful you've ever seen, regardless of the subject matter, but also for the occasional photo of herself, surfing or climbing or behind the camera, particularly delightful if it features her arms in a tank — but diego doesn't need to know that part. 'yes, her work is wonderful for lots of conservationist efforts.' diplomatic, you think, mentally patting yourself on the back.

'and she's hot.'

'i didn't say that.'

diego rolls his eyes.

'anyway, how would we even get her to come with us?'

diego grins. 'i emailed her.'

'what?'

he takes out his phone and shows you her instagram, which, indeed, does have an ‘email’ button, which, obviously, you've never paid attention to before. 'she hasn't responded yet, or her team or whatever, i guess, but i only sent it ten minutes ago. and it went to a legit address and hasn't bounced back, so, i just figured, why not?'

even though, last year, you had had a successful time in guyana, finding and recording a few new species, there are a lot of why not's, really: your GA probably shouldn’t be making these choices without consulting you first, but you don’t really care about that so much as your mobility is more limited than ever lately. the weather probably won't hold so who the fuck knows if it'll even be possible to reach to spot at all. and, plus, it's for a frog. one tiny frog, that may or may not exist — (you're sure it does) — in the middle of a jungle on the top of a tepui that's never been climbed. it's... a little crazy, when you think through it now, way crazier than it had seemed when you wrote the grant for funding last year. most people, even world renowned war-turned-wildlife photographers with insane biceps — especially them, probably — aren't interested in a project like this.

'well, the least that will happen is she doesn't respond,' you figure; you don't believe in any religion and life had dealt you quite the shitty hand for a long time, so if there's any balancing it out, maybe this will be a strike in the good column for you. so, 'yeah, you're right. why not?'

/

it's two days later when your phone vibrates about seven times; you roll over in... some girl's bed? okay, solid night, then, and when you look over at her, she's beautiful and fast asleep. you remember your fifth shot of tequila and vaguely how great riding her dick had been; you find your phone graciously plugged into a charger on the nightstand on your side of the bed, and when you go to the bathroom you see condoms in the small trash can — so, all in all, a success. your back is sore but not terrible and you groan when you see it's only six am, but there's texts from diego and you have a policy not to ignore those, no matter how stupid they occasionally can be.

these are unequivocally not stupid, though, because they start with dr. silva! and then ava!!!!! ava! and devolve into some emojis and then omg oh my god and finally check your email, which is really the only helpful part of that — but they're not stupid because when you do check your email, you see a forwarded message from diego first. it's a cordial reply to the email he had sent to beatrice zhang, from her, it seems, asking politely to be put in touch with the lead biologist on the expedition if possible. which, you remember with the tiniest bit of a happy jolt, is you. you open the newest email, which is, in fact, connecting you and beatrice. she’s already responded, and it’s kind of wild because, from the three short sentences asking if you could set up a video chat to talk more about the expedition or, if she happened to be close to where you were in the world, even meet near your office or lab for coffee, she sounds, well, at least interested. you don't think someone like her — someone who has photographed war, and famine, and wildfires, and, miraculously last year, a snow leopard and her cub — would even respond to something she didn't care at all about.

holy shit, you text diego. you need a cup of coffee, or, like, maybe three cups of coffee, and a breakfast sandwich before you can respond to that email, so you decide to get a move on. plus, it feels unhinged to respond to it from your phone, so you need to go home anyway. you should also maybe definitely shower, you think, as you look at yourself in the mirror: your makeup is a little smudged and your hair is an unrepentant mess. still hot though, you think when you quietly find your clothes and put your bra on, a deep teal that makes your boobs look awesome. thankfully, you were just in high-waisted, loose jeans and a cropped sweater last night, so after you wash your face and get dressed, it's not really giving walk of shame — walk of pride, thank you very much.

you google maps where you are and, thankfully, it's a nice enough morning and a short enough distance that you can walk to your favorite cafe and then to your apartment without having to call an uber. you grab your cane from where you'd left it propped up by the wall near the bed, and then, because you're definitely not an asshole, gently shake your, well, one night stand's shoulder. her eyes are green, and you do remember that much.

'i gotta go do some work, sorry.'

she nods. 'right. doctor.'

well, maybe you're a little bit of an asshole, but it's not your fault that people think you're a very important neurosurgeon or something. you are very important in cataloguing biodiversity, so you just roll with it. 'thanks for a great time.'

she nods with a soft smile, and it's nice to kiss her, gently, goodbye.

/

'wait, you're meeting with her? here?'

'yes,' you say, mostly annoyed at camila's vaguely unhinged energy. 'she's close by train, so it's better to meet in person.'

'oh my god,' camila says. she's one of your best friends and probably the smartest, most tech-savvy person you know. when you figured out how helpful it would be to have someone operate drones for you on this expedition, you hadn't even bothered to ask anyone else.

'don't you know her?'

'well, sure,' camila confirms. 'i did some drone work for her a few months ago in the bahamas when she was photographing sharks. but, like, she's amazing, ava.'

'well, hopefully she'll say yes.'

'you'll have to charm her.'

'i'm very good at charming hot women.'

camila rolls her eyes.

'i'm also very good at charming people to go find frogs with me.'

she waits for a beat and then relents. 'well, i suppose that's true.'

'come on,' you say, 'help me make a slide deck. i feel like she'd think that's sexy or something.'

'you're ridiculous.'

'it'll work, i'm telling you.'

/

beatrice zhang in soft wool pants and closed-toed birkenstocks and a crewneck sweater sitting ramrod straight at the decent cafe just off campus near your office is, quite honestly, not a sight you'd ever expected to see, but it is kind of a miracle. or, at least that's what it had felt like, when she had emailed that she was, actually, a few hours away by train and wouldn't mind a day trip to meet in person. you're glad that you wore your best professor outfit today, flared navy slacks that make your ass look divine, and a crisp white button up that you tucked in tight and rolled up at the sleeves, a camel peacoat and expensive loafers that dr. salvius had gotten you when you passed your dissertation two years ago. you usually wear... well, not this — you reserve this for conferences and presentations — but, if looking professional helps beatrice sign onto this project, so be it.

and, well, maybe it's not strictly professional to undo another button as you had walked to the cafe, and, like, you don't actually know if beatrice is gay or not, but you spot her and smile and wave and her eyes get big for a moment, and you’re afraid you’ve got it all wrong: you’re small and young and pretty and, sometimes, people think that disqualifies you from being smart. but then her eyes rake over you and linger, for just a moment, on your chest, so you're probably right. if this helps too, so be it.

you wave and she stands very formally; she clearly recognizes you, which makes you feel a small thrill of satisfaction. 'hey, glad you found it okay.'

'i've had much more difficult locations to navigate before, although the freshman can be a bit scary.'

it's deadpan, so it takes you a split second, but then you laugh and offer your hand. 'i'm dr. silva.' you want to roll your eyes at your title, which you normally feel quite proud of, all of a sudden. 'ava, any pronouns.'

'dr. silva,' she says anyway, and shakes your hand firmly. 'it's a pleasure. i'm beatrice, she/her.'

only after do you sit, a little sprawled, and prop your cane up on the table, does she sit too, and then looks down at the menu. 'do you recommend anything? i haven't had lunch yet.'

'well, if you're like, uh... —' falling prey to diet culture, you think, but you don't know beatrice at all, so — 'wanting a vegetable forward option, their salads and quinoa bowls are okay.'

she wrinkles her nose. you hide a smile in the collar of your coat.

'but their kimchi fried chicken sandwich is my favorite.'

'and the slaw?'

'well, i'm a fries girl.'

she smiles over the top of her menu, just slightly.

'but my friend likes the slaw, and i trust her.'

she nods and sets her menu down, her wrists resting on the edge of the table, her hands clasped. a practical smart watch, no wedding band. her full attention is on you and it makes you feel a little breathless.

you're saved from saying something incredibly dumb — you're very, very smart, and you're actually very good at flirting, but beatrice zhang is hot as hell and a certified badass and you also really want her to be, like, your colleague — when your server comes to your table. you both order, and you get the fried chicken sandwich too, even though you already ate lunch an hour ago — diego's always happy to eat your leftovers out of the fridge in the lab anyway.

you're not saved from saying something marginally dumb, though, because beatrice kindly thanks your server and hands over her menu and then looks at you again, fully focused.

'i like your hair,’ you say, instead of, well, anything else. you want to groan and slam your head down into the table, or something, because beatrice's brows knit together and she brings one hand to run through her floppy middle part, short in the back and on the sides, pushing it out of her eyes.

'oh,' she says, softly and definitely confused. 'thank you.'

you're sure you're blushing. 'sorry, i just, like, the last time you posted — you had long hair.'

it's mortifying, the moment you say it, because you can mentally calculate the last time beatrice posted a picture of herself on her instagram, and it was definitely over a year ago.

she also seems to realize this, because her confusion turns to a smug little smile that could probably eat you alive. you'd definitely let it.

'i read about the last species of frog you discovered, when the article came out.'

that was also over a year ago, and you laugh, tension releasing from your shoulders. 'so that’s how you knew what i looked like.’

‘sure.’

to be fair, the article did include a picture of you, muddy and sweaty and overjoyed, holding a tiny frog in the palm of your hand, but, ‘did you google me?’

‘i only take on projects, at this point, that i find interesting.’

‘so you think i’m interesting.’

she raises a brow, a scar that also wasn’t there over a year ago running an inch above it and then straight through, cleanly healed but not faded yet, stopping right on the top of her cheek — thankfully your brain didn't comment on that, even though it's kind of hot too. ‘i think that fact that you've already identified six new species of frog two years into an assistant professorship is interesting.’

'so that's a yes.' you grin. ‘want me to tell you about the project, then?'

she thanks your server when he brings her water and your lemonade of the day, and a coffee, and then leans forward in her seat. ‘yes,' she says. 'i do.’

you tell her about it as coherently as you can: you're sure there's a brand new species of frog — maybe more than one, if you're lucky — on the top of a land mass deep in the forest in guyana. you've secured enough funding to make it happen; bare bones, but still. you have diego and yasmine, your grad students, and michael, another assistant professor in your apartment who's helped you on expeditions before, mostly by carrying a bunch of shit. you've gotten camila — who beatrice is also very excited to work with again — to sign on to do tech work for you. dr. superion and dr. salvius are helping from here.

'so, anyway, i need you to climb the tepui.'

beatrice sits back when you're done, flicks through a few slides on your laptop that you'd handed to her with pictures of the jungle, the cliff face, the budget outlines and logistics and equipment you anticipate you'll need.

'do you know a lot about climbing?'

it's kind — to not assume that you don't; to not expect you to either. you shake your head no.

'i'm an alpinist, for the most part,' she says, 'which means that i climb, well —' she pauses.

'no need to be modest for me.'

she offers a small smile. 'i've climbed eight of the ten tallest mountains in the world.'

hot, you think, but you take a deep breath instead and say, 'that's impressive.' nailed it.

'yes, well.' she blushes. 'thank you. but this kind of climbing is traditional climbing — big wall climbing.'

'oh.' you frown. 'so, you can't do it?'

'i can,' she says, 'and i'd like to. i think i know enough of biology to be marginally helpful, and i can certainly photograph the expedition.'

your heart soars, warming your whole body, and you take a bite of your lukewarm sandwich to hide your smile.

'but i'll need a team. i'm confident that i'll be able to get up the wall, but i'm not experienced enough at this kind of climbing to lead on all of these passes.'

'we might not have the funds to pay much, if you bring on more people.'

she shakes her head. 'i have access to plenty of discretionary funds, so that shouldn't be a problem.'

'that's hot.' well, you tried.

she laughs, thank god. 'i just wanted to make sure that you and your team are okay with me bringing other people on.'

'as long as they aren't, like, shitty, you know. racist, homophobic, ableist. all that stuff.'

she nods, very seriously. 'i can assure you that, while one of my climbing partners is inclined to be an asshole, it's always done with respect toward important identities. she's more annoying than anything. and my other partner is the best person i know.'

'well, other than me, now.'

you can tell beatrice is torn between smiling and rolling her eyes; she does a bit of both. 'and, as far as logistics go, i could easily provide a helicopter to get us in as far as possible. less of a hike.'

it's impossible that beatrice didn't see your cane. 'i have adaptive equipment for myself. i can do the hike.'

but her brows knit together. 'yes, i assumed so: you're leading the expedition. i just meant, for my team at least, the fewer miles we have to bring photography and climbing gear in a jungle, the better. it's heavy, and then we have to do a major climb.'

'oh.' you bite your bottom lip. 'that makes sense. sorry, people suck sometimes.'

'i imagine so.' she looks at you very sincerely. 'i'm sorry.'

you wave her off. 'thanks. it is what it is, though.'

beatrice doesn't try to argue, although you can tell that maybe she wants to. 'anyway, whatever you think will help your team, and whatever will help mine, that falls outside of your grant funds, i can cover.'

'that's — are you sure?'

she nods. 'quite.'

'where did you get these discretionary funds?' you can't help asking.

'a bad man,' she says, leaning forward and whispering dramatically. it makes you laugh.

'ooh, did you kill him? warlord?'

'alas, no. my father, and he's already dead.'

'ah.' you snap your fingers. 'well, if another opportunity comes up, you just let me know. i have tons of lethal neurotoxins in my lab. i'm always down to... you know — murder —' you whisper — 'a billionaire. long haul ethics, you know?'

she nods very solemnly, fighting a smile. 'i'll keep that under advisement.'

you fight the urge to ask her for a drink, and you definitely stare at her mouth a little too long, but then you get it together and offer your hand. 'well, partners?'

she shakes it, hers strong and rough with callouses. the thought sends a little shiver up your spine, but you valiantly ignore it. 'partners.'

/

beatrice invites you, after a few days of emailing back and forth to create an updated budget and logistics plan, to meet at a climbing gym. it's to meet her other two team members first. before you all get together with your main crew for dinner afterward. she'd given you their names, headshots, and very formal bios, which you had kind of loved: lilith, who, according to beatrice's bio, will be the lead climber. when you google her, you find out that she's, like, a world champion big wall climber, so that bodes well. and then mary, another photographer and world class marksman — I know this isn't particularly relevant, beatrice had included as a footnote, but it is quite impressive — and avid climber too.

you're hopeful about it all, and you're hopeful that tonight maybe she just wants to see you alone, and to have you watch her climb. there's, like, a two percent chance you'll physically be able to climb, really, but that's fine. she'd texted you about it, far less formal than her perfectly punctuated emails, so that's a good sign. and she'd posted a recent picture someone took of her — a candid, petting the trunk of an elephant peacefully — on her instagram too. maybe that was scheduled — beatrice seems like the kind of person who would schedule instagram posts — but a girl can hope, you know? you liked it one hour and fourteen minutes after she posted, from the lab's social media account and not your personal one, so you figure you've handled this all perfectly. you're great, beatrice is a colleague, and you've got this.

you're stressed about what to wear to a climbing gym and then to get dinner afterward, although there's probably a locker room or something, but it's fine. you're hot in anything. (or nothing. not that the night is going to go there.) you settle on tight leggings you wear to the gym and a sports bra, a cropped jacket on over. it's, like, cute and femme, but also practical. you brush on some mascara and put part of your hair into a little bun so it won't fall into your eyes, and you pack a spare change of clothes in a canvas tote — slacks and a nice bra and a t-shirt that hugs your body perfectly along with a pair of platform converse and an army-green overshirt — in case everyone else changes before going to dinner.

you grab your cane and head out the door.

/

if you fall to your death, it's definitely not going to be because of your back or legs. it's going to be because beatrice is in loose pants that seem comfortable for climbing and a tight racerback tank, and when you walk in, she's hanging by one arm on a short wall, just chilling out there, before she seems to decide what she wants to do. she brings her legs up to find footholds and then she's almost upside down, holding onto the wall with both hands calmly and moving so fluidly — a leg stretching out, her chalked fingers grasping onto a tiny hold. there's a delicate tattoo along her right forearm, all linework, and there are scars all over her left shoulder, running down to her elbow from what you can see: some are jagged and some are clean, neat, like surgical incisions. they don't seem to be limiting her progress at all, because she moves over the outhanging ledge easily and then to the top before just letting go and calmly rolling to her feet after she lands without a sound.

the — very hot — woman, lilith, you know from the headshot, sitting on the floor next to the wall, legs outstretched, leaning back on her palms set flat on the ground behind, and looking impossibly graceful while doing it, groans.

'getting stuck that long on a soft V8? come on, beatrice.'

beatrice, to her credit, just shrugs.

'shoulder?' the other woman asks.

'it's fine,' beatrice says. 'just getting back into the groove of your tiny walls.'

'oh, ha ha.'

'8091 meters will really change your perspective. you should try it sometime.'

'no thanks, i'll stick to my world records, thank you very much.'

they seem like they might physically fight, but then they both start laughing. weird, but you fuck with it.

beatrice turns, her hands on her hips, and, like, whew, god fucking bless, and then waves with a smile when she sees you. she walks over. 'hello ava.'

'hey,' you say, suddenly feeling a little awkward: you have not a single idea what you're doing. 'that was pretty impressive.'

'it was not,' the lilith says.

beatrice heads toward her anyway, and you follow. 'you can ignore her most of the time,' she says. 'dr. silva, this is lilith. lilith, dr. silva.'

'just ava.' you look at beatrice with a raised brow. 'please.'

lilith lazily salutes. 'ava, then. our illustrious leader, i hear. beatrice is making me lead a 1000 foot first ascent for a frog?'

'i'm not making you do anything,' beatrice says, and lilith grumbles like a teenager. it's funny, and you decide that you like her then and there, even if she scares you a little. she scares you a little more when she gracefully gets to her feet. she's tall and imposing, with a sharp face and long hair braided back, more wiry than beatrice's bigger muscles, but — you're sure — just as strong.

she offers her hand, which you shake. 'in my defense,' you say, 'it is a very cool frog. we can even name it after you, if you want.'

this seems to amuse her, because there's a hint of a smile on her face.  'i do like first ascents anyway.'

'see,' you say, 'that's the spirit.'

'ava,' beatrice says, 'no pressure, but i thought you might find it fun to try climbing. only if you'd like.'

'i'm, uh —' you gesture a little clumsily with your cane, the tips of your ears turning red. 'not sure that i can?'

'mary is an adaptive climbing instructor,' beatrice says, gesturing over to the taller wall with ropes connected through pulleys at the top, where a strong Black woman with perfectly neat braids and a dark outfit on is sorting through a few harnesses on the ground. 'but if you'd rather not climb, lilith and i are just finishing up. we can show you a few things we've been practicing in anticipation for the route, and then change and go to dinner.'

beatrice doesn't say either choice with any more or less merit, or worth, or importance: they're choices, and they're yours, and they won't affect how much she trusts you or believes in the expedition. lilith is checking her phone, uninterested at this point, and you decide, as you always have, to try.

'yeah, sure. i have no idea what adaptive climbing is, though.'

beatrice smiles and lilith stays on her phone, texting. 'that's fine. i have no idea about ninety percent of what you study.'

'i find that hard to believe. you're a wildlife photographer.'

she hums, softly touching your elbow and then walking toward mary. 'conservationist photography, sure. but i'm not a biologist.'

you make a note that beatrice doesn't really like wildlife photographer as a job title, although she was polite enough to not outright tell you so. 'well, i'm not a climber, so, quid pro quo?'

'ah, but you will be after tonight,' mary says, standing with a smile and offering her hand. 'dr. silva, right?'

'just ava,' you tell her, endeared by the fact that beatrice had probably been very formally saying dr. silva to her team this entire time. you shake mary's hand as firmly as you can and feel immediately a little more relaxed with the confident, easy way she holds her shoulders, her kind smile, her bright eyes.

'beatrice and i go way back,' she says. 'this project of yours sounds amazing. i was excited when she asked if i wanted in.'

'of course i'd ask,' beatrice says, bumping mary in the shoulder, who rolls her eyes fondly.

'well, beatrice said you were promised an adaptive climbing lesson.'

'if you're still in,' beatrice says, 'mary can show you the ropes.' she laughs at herself. 'literally.'

mary groans, but you're delighted. 'well, don't leave me hanging.'

'no. not another bad pun aficionado. please.'

beatrice grins and you sling an arm over her slightly sweaty and delightfully strong shoulders. she stiffens a little, and mary looks to her for a moment, and you're worried you've overstepped, and fast. but then beatrice relaxes.

you step back and gesture between the two of you happily. 'is this our thing now?'

'if trading terrible puns is wrong, then i don't want to be right.'

mary groans. 'not sure why i agreed to this trip after all.'

'we can name a frog after you, if you want,' you offer.

mary perks up. 'really?'

'yeah,' you say, 'sure. i've already named one after myself and given five others the dumbest, gayest names i could think of.'

'i'm back in, then.'

you laugh. 'well, let's rock and try not to roll.'

mary sighs, but beatrice's muffled laugh into your shoulder is way worth it.

/

Hi Ava, I'll be in town today to get some equipment squared away. I was wondering if maybe you'd like to have dinner if you're free. No shop talk, unless you want

you read and reread the text. you'd gone over shitty — expected, but still shitty — test results from an mri at your neurologist's earlier today, and, even though your team seemed to gel the other night, and all of your logistics are much less daunting now that beatrice has covered some of them financially, you had planned to stay home in your favorite boxers and most comfortable hoodie and wallow with a mediocre bottle of wine and good pizza and great reality tv.

but — hey, that sounds sweet. any places in mind?

beatrice texts back almost immediately. I don't know the area too well. You can pick, if you'd like

like, you're colleagues. you're about to be in one of the most remote parts of the world together in five days, with just a handful of other people, for weeks, maybe longer. you're the leader of the expedition but beatrice is, in important ways, a leader too. she's smart and beautiful and handsome and focused. if it's a date, incredible; if it's not, you still want to know her, you still want to spend time in her gentle warmth.

any food allergies/hatred?

she responds, No, I'm pretty adventurous

still, no clarity, but you set a place and time — one of your favorite tapas restaurants with a great little bar and, if it gets late enough, a good dance floor — and then set about getting ready. you eat a banana and take ibuprofen, which hopefully will help you be able to dance without much pain, and then get as pretty as you deem not desperate for a normal dinner with a colleague to be. which, it's you, so you're still very, very pretty, including one of your very best cleavage tanks. you finish your eyeliner perfectly and blow yourself a little kiss in the mirror. for good luck, or whatever. it's science.

/

'i got tired of it,' beatrice says. 'war photography is...' she pauses, and shakes her head, like she doesn't quite know what to tell you. you're totally sure she's not telling the truth, not really, but you know not to push, to spook her away. 'i could leave,' she settles on. 'as much as i hate the west, as much as i hate american and european, especially british, foreign policy, and its destruction of the world — i got to take pictures, and leave. at first, i thought it was something important i could do, to record the truth. political inherently, anti-imperialist, without being in politics. but, i was in occupied palestine, and, then, after —' she clears her throat, brings her fingers up to ghost over the scar through her brow — 'after. i couldn't do it. they're wars because of my history — our collective history — but they weren't my wars. they aren’t my wars. i can’t photograph them, at least right now. because i got to leave.'

you're horrified that she might start to cry — which isn't horrifying, not at all, you cry all the time, but you're supposed to be having a nice meal with your colleague and you had asked what you thought was an innocuous question about how she got into her more recent conservationist work, but clearly, not innocuous. you're starting to think, with a kind of clarity you very rarely have about anyone, that nothing about beatrice herself is innocuous. even her collarless button down and loose pants cuffed at the ankles — and the way all of her clothes, ever practical, drape with a tailored casualness on her small, strong frame — her easy hair that’s always actually perfectly trimmed and styled, the pattern of callouses on her hands: everything about her is intentioned. she means what she says. she means what she does. she means who she is.

'i started studying frogs with my mom,' you offer. it's true, and you mean who you are too.

she takes a sip of her water and nods in what you can tell is a quiet relief.

'my family is from manaus. my mom wasn't a scientist or anything, she was a bank teller, but when i was little, we'd go out often. she loved the rainforest, so, you know, i loved the rainforest.'

beatrice smiles gently. 'that sounds beautiful.'

you stare down at a croqueta and tear a small piece of it off, let the old ache fill your chest. 'she died, when i was seven.'

'oh,' beatrice says, 'i —'

'— it was a long time ago,' you say.

'sometimes that doesn't make it hurt any less.'

it's permission, to feel how you need to. most people accept when you tell them that and move on in relief, unwilling or unable to give you the space. but beatrice sits steadily. 'i broke my back, during the car accident we were in; we were visiting spain and, well. i had to relearn to walk. it took a really long time, and the orphanage i grew up in wasn't big on good physical therapy or really any care, so i taught myself what i could outside of school, got into university, got good medical care for the first time, like, ever. and i started studying biology. i went back to the rainforest as soon as i could, as a research assistant, and guyana was ... it's mind-blowing, bea.'

she weighs it all in contemplative silence for a moment, trying to decide what you need; what relief she can give. ‘i can't wait to see. i've always wanted to go.'

it is relief, what you feel, to be so immediately seen and understood. 'well, it's not just anyone i'd want to bring to the rainforest. my mom's favorites were always frogs, so —' you shrug, suddenly a little at a loss.

'so here we are, about to go find another.'

you pop the croqueta into your mouth, feel the dull pain in your chest dissipate when you realize you're close enough to beatrice's face to see her freckles. 'i have spinal stenosis, from the accident. it's progressing pretty fast, even with the best medical team, tech, surgeries, all that.'

she nods, like she understands what you mean without making you have to say it. it's a gift, bigger than she probably knows.

'i really want to find that fucking frog.'

'well,' she says, and lifts her glass, 'to finding our frog.'

'you know, it's bad luck to toast with water.'

she frowns. 'i don't usually drink.'

'you're very... controlled.'

she waits a beat and then grins. 'okay, one beer.'

'fuck yeah!'

'one, ava.'

'mhm. whatever you say, bea.'

/

'i have to take the train back,' beatrice argues — or, at least, tries to argue, because her eyes drift down to your boobs when you take your sweater off. success.

'you can just stay at my place. i have a mediocre ikea couch.'

'i can't let you sleep on your own couch.'

you laugh. 'oh, you definitely get the couch. i need all the good mattress support i can get before i sleep in a tent for a month.'

she smiles, gently and a little sad, but then the moment passes, a kind of grace. 'fine.'

'really?'

the set of her shoulders is looser but still sure, still so, so certain. 'yes.'

'hell yeah!' she laughs. 'shots?'

beatrice pulls a face but you order lemon drops anyway, mostly because vodka seems neutral and they're a good shot for people who don't drink often, sweet and tangy and fun. beatrice sniffs hers first — bold move, big mistake most of the time — but then nods in approval.

'to our frog,' you say, and she clinks her glass with yours. you touch it to the bartop and she follows suit, and then take it as smoothly as you can. it's an easy drink, so you don't have any problems, and she swallows without too much of a grimace. 'okay?'

'it's not bad,' she says, and your whole body hums, probably because of the two margaritas you had with dinner and this shot now, but also because there are freckles stretching across her cheeks and gold flecks in her brown eyes and if you let yourself look closely a tiny split on her lip, probably from the dry, cool air recently.

you shake yourself out of... whatever that was, and you order two more shots; she takes hers without hesitation this time, laughing when you spill a little down your cheek. she reaches a hand and wipes with her strong hand, tender, over the corner of your mouth, down to your jaw, and then clears her throat, takes her hand back quickly, although you want to ask for her to stay. but instead, 'come on, bea,' you say, 'let's dance!'

she only groans in a show of protest for posterity, you're sure, because she's very strong and you're very small and when you tug on her wrists she follows you easily.

you love to dance; you have always loved to dance: what little you remember of your mom is full of green, the rainforest and the wall of your living room. she would push back all the furniture to the edges, just the two of you in a small apartment, where you slept in the same bed and ate fruit from the trees outside. she would put on britney spears and jump around with you; she would put on stevie nicks and hold you in her arms, swaying around. she was full of light, from what you remember, always ready to read to you, in portugese and in english; to help you with your math and your handwriting. she cut your food for you and bought you new shoes when yours wore through the soles. she had been a good mom in the way good moms are: happy to hold your hand, to rub her nose against yours, to let you eat the batter off the spoon. you don't remember much, not before the accident, but it had been easy, and beautiful — the mist and orchids and green, all around.

beatrice is a little stiff until you start jumping around, fully out of time with the music, just to make her laugh. and she does, a smile lighting up her whole face. her body is graceful like this too, like it's always somehow known exactly how to move. you wonder, fleetingly between songs, what she was like as a child, if she was as sure and smart and kind as she is now. someone crowds into her space from behind and then you're not thinking of anything other than the tickle of her hair against your cheek as she presses into you, the lilt of her laugh into your ear, the hard muscles of her shoulders and the soft, small swell of her hips when you bring your palms to rest there. you're drunk and she's beautiful, and you've kissed lots of beautiful people when you've been drunk. but she closes her eyes and sways to the beat and it's like the rest of the world falls away. it's like there's only you and beatrice and the cloud forest, above anything else that has harmed and will harm again. there's her gold skin and scars and tattoos hidden under her shirt, the healed slices down your spine, the air between your bodies: sweaty, sticky with spilled drinks, thumping bass, everyone else in this bar. there's only the two of you, and it's a little like you've been punched in the gut: you're falling in love with her. it's easy, right now, to put a name to it all, when you can look at her jaw without reproach.

she opens her eyes and looks at you, a smile on her face, and leans in your direction. it's easy, to bring your hand to touch where you had been staring, to say, 'bea,' as she laughs into your neck, says, 'this is so fun, thank you.' it's hard to not kiss her, but she's ... extraordinary, and you don't want your first kiss to be in the middle of a mid-at-best dance floor after a few shots. you want it to be somewhere beautiful. somewhere you already know; somewhere you're certain she'll love.

'let's go home,' you say, because you had done another round somewhere between songs and she's slightly unsteady on her feet. she nods into your neck and you take her hand.

/

you walk back to your apartment with her, one arm looped through hers — 'very gallant,' you'd said when she'd offered, and even in the dim light from the moon and streetlamps you had seen her blush — and your other hand using your cane. she had found it for you, tucked behind where you had been sitting at the bar; she hadn't asked anything about why you didn't use it when you were dancing, or why you need it now. you know so many good people and you organize a lot with some of your other friends who work with the disability center at the university, but there is some kind of a revelation about being seen so wholly.

but maybe you're also just a little drunk, because she sways a bit as you walk and her accent is lilting, tender, her hair messy in her eyes. it's probably as soft as it looks; you had lost your hair tie somewhere between shots two and three and you tuck yours behind your ear. you have so many questions you want to ask her but you hold them in because she looks up at the moon and the stars and it's enough, to be here with her. to know her laugh, now, and the way she has hurt too.

it's enough to just walk.

/

it hadn't actually taken too much convincing — after you unlocked the door and gave her some choices in pajamas, soft sleep shorts and a big cotton crew her eventual choices, and gotten her a glass of water and a few cheddar crackers — to get her to agree to sleep in your bed with you. perhaps it had been because your couch is ... an unknown number of years old — 'listen, bea, phd students make, like, no money, and it was twenty bucks on craigslist three years go' — or maybe, maybe, it's because she just wants to.

you settle in first, listen to her brush her teeth with a spare toothbrush you'd given her, and wash her face with your facewash — that she had frowned at, accidentally rude but pretty funny and, like, fair, you got it from the drug store on the corner and you're sure she has a whole understated fancy little routine when she's not out in the field — and then wash her hands after going to the bathroom. you love sex, so you sleep with people often. you've had a boyfriend before, that you cared about deeply, so there's some parts of intimacy that are familiar to you, of course. but this, beatrice carefully climbing into bed next to you, with her freckles and her eyelashes and the pink of her lips, is different: you're not going to kiss her, not right now. you're not going to reach out and put your palm on her jaw like you want to, or feel the warm skin of her ribs, the goosebumps that would inevitably rise there if you raked your nails across the ridges. you're not going to because, you know, somewhere elemental in you, that you want to know her, and love her, for a long time. you want to take her to the rainforest.

'where's your favorite place in the world?' you ask instead, whisper it into the dark, the soft outline of her face.

she's turned toward you, her hands tucked carefully under her chin; it makes her look younger. 'tibet. the himalayas.'

'makes sense. you and your big mountains.'

'what's the last mountain you... summited?'

'annapurna. it's the tenth tallest in the world.' she pauses, considering. 'are we playing twenty questions?'

her eyelids are drooping. 'i don't think you're going to be awake for twenty questions.'

she laughs softly. 'i want to ask you one, though.'

'hmm. sure. two to four questions, then.'

'do you... uh, well, okay. do you like women?'

it's so awkward, so out of place for someone so sure, that you have to fight the urge to burst out in laughter. but it's also soft, and nervous, her eyes wide. it makes you feel sixteen again, full of possibility. 'yeah, bea. i'm bi. i love women.'

she nods, tucks her hands even tighter under her chin, lets a big relieved breath out. 'cool.'

'yeah?'

'mhm. i'm a lesbian, if you didn't know.'

you want to say you're the gayest looking person i've ever met but you refrain. for the romance of it all. 'good to know.'

she tries hard to wink and fails miserably. you let yourself, just once, just for a moment, reach out and run your hand through her hair. she leans into your touch, relaxes under it, before you fold yourself back onto your side of the bed. 'you have one more question.'

'so do you.'

'okay. hmm. favorite ice cream flavor?'

she laughs. 'that's what you want to know.'

you nod. 'it's very important information.'

'okay.' she thinks hard about it, genuinely. 'mint chocolate chip?'

'that's so boring, jeez.'

'oh, i'm sorry. simple combinations of dynamic tastes is probably too sophisticated for you to understand.'

'okay, ratatouille.'

she tries, a valiant effort, to not crack a smile, but she eventually does. 'okay, my turn. favorite color?'

you let your eyes fall closed and imagine it all, the sharp thorns and the torrential rain and the chirp of the neon blue frog you'd found last time. you think about taking her there. 'green, of course,' you tell her, a promise, a future in the clouds. 'green.'

[callsign-bunnie]

so we talked about this and I always make true on my threats

Please give us the funny coming out story they all have!! We’re they called out??? Did someone walk in on a heavy make out session???

I'm gonna answer these in character

Soap: "So, I actually came out to Price, once, and he just kind of stood there and for a moment I was solidly worried that he may have been homophobic. So I was sweating, right? This man looks me dead in my eyes and goes 'Goddamnit, Mactavish, I fucking know already. You're a whore! I've heard so many damn stories of you hooking up with half the fucking barracks. If you didn't have the damn tags, I'd call you a tag chaser.' So, yeah. Wasn't homophobic, but did slut shame me. I'm sure it was meant affectionately"

Ghost: "I've never came out. I just mention past male partners and no one is shocked. Wondering if I should be offended or not."

Rodolfo: "I have also never came out. Do I have to? I joined the military for one man, stayed for one man, got well known for being entirely loyal to one man... I sound pathetic. Anyway- Oh, wait, I did have to come out to said man. He told me I should flirt with this woman at a bar and I will admit to just staring at him in shock for a solid minute and just... kind of quietly going, 'but I'm gay' and he looked so confused. I have to admit, it made me feel a lot better because I genuinely thought he was ignoring my feelings towards him until this point. He looked embarrassed, too."

Alejandro: "I came out to the Vaqueros about five years ago. I was incredibly drunk, which is never good for me, and I walked right up to Rodolfo, I threw my arm around him, and said, very loudly, in front of all my men, that I was 'gay as fuck' and that he was the prettiest boy I'd ever seen in my entire life. I'm loud when I'm sober, I was... LOUD this time. I thought Rodolfo was about to strangle me from how embarrassed he looked. It worked out for me, though, because we got together shortly after and hey, look at us. We're married, now. I guess the lesson here is to always go for it?"

Price: "I come out every damn day, kid. I have to consistently reassert that I'm gay. My entire team should fucking know at this rate but I repeatedly will mention partners and it goes kind of like this: Me: So, I went to a bar last night and I met this guy- Gaz: Guy?! Me: ...yes. I met this guy and we went home Gaz: To do what?! Me: ...To eat cereal, Garrick! The fuck do you think?! We went back to my place to fuck! So, anyway."

Gaz: "I got outed to the entire school. It wasn't particularly funny, but hey, saved me a lot of trouble. My school was fairly supportive, save for some assholes, so I never had to worry about homophobia. My foster parents did find out, though, and yeah that was not fun."

Graves: "We're supposed to come out? Damn, I just... mention it in casual conversation. If they have a problem with it, they can take it up with my gun."

Valeria: "Apparently it was obvious. I went and told Rodolfo, because I was really upset and worried about it and he laughed at me. Worst part was, I didn't even know he could laugh. He said 'you make it fairly obvious' and then mentioned that I talk about women way too much to even have had a thought about hiding it."

Farah: "Haha, I still haven't came out. You either pick it up or you don't. I think it's funny to watch people guess what I mean when I say 'girlfriend'."

Alex: "I also frequently come out. The most notable time being when I came out to the 141, we're all gay I don't understand why I had to do that, and Gaz immediately went 'I have a chance?!' and then covered his face and turned a deep deep shade of red. He didn't talk to me for a week, afterwards, I hope because he was embarrassed, not because he changed his mind."

Laswell: "I came out in college. I was kind of crazy, so I went to a party and at this point, I was trying to get by without anyone knowing and I just- this girl sat in front of me and she was gorgeous. Gorgeous body, her hair sort of bubbled around her head and it would shake when she moved, and she would laugh super loud and big and it was so gorgeous. And I remember I was so drunk that I blurted out of nowhere 'fuck, I'm so gay' and she just started laughing. Anyway, a two for one deal because that's how I met my wife, guys."

Roach: I more got told. When I was 12 this guy came up to me and was like 'you're gay by the way' and then just... walked away. Fucker was right, but goddamn.

[karahalloway]

(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 15 - Not Without Obligation

Fandom: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series Summary: The social season may be over, but Harper Gale’s problems are just beginning. With everyone at court a potential suspect, can she and Drake survive the engagement tour and get to the bottom of the plot against her and clear her name? An AU take of TRR2 featuring my OTP - Harper & Drake.

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

Chapter Summary: Harper gets a surprise visit from Christian... but are his intentions sincere?

Word Count: 2,800 (short for me, I know enjoy it while you can 😆)

Rating/Warnings: M (swearing, angst, possible ulterior motives)

Chapter theme song:

A/N: I know it's been more than a hot minute since I've updated this series! 😅 This is in part because I got sidetracked by Sleepless in New York also on my list to finish, I know, and then I took most of the summer off from writing. But also in part because I kinda got stuck on how to actually continue with this series... but, I now have a plan! *rubs hands together gleefully* and you ain't gonna like it, sorry, not sorry. So, with this long-awaited installment, I hope to be back in my usual groove and will be posting with some semblance of regularity again. Thanks so much for bearing with me!

A/N2: This is also my submission for @choicesseptemberchallenge2023 Day 25 Prompt - Secret, Surprise I’m only 2 days late

Chapter 15 - Not Without Obligation

Making my way back to my room, I try to push down the conflicting emotions that are roiling inside of me.

On one hand, I get where Drake is coming from, and why he shut the door in my face. We are no longer alone in Applewood and even the faintest whiff of impropriety could implode the carefully strategised work that the royal PR team has put in to try and resuscitate my public image.

And me getting caught outside of the room of a guy who not only is not Christian, but who I have no justifiable reason for seeking out at the butt-crack of dawn in the first place, would definitely scupper the assertion that I'm not a two-timing hussy. Especially since I rushed out of my room earlier wearing nothing more than a t-shirt and panties.

Mitigating factors, they are not.

But while the rational part of my brain knows that Drake is only trying to look out for me, I can't help but feel a pang of dejection at the abruptness with which he — very literally — shut me out, even though he promised yesterday that he wouldn't do something like that to me again.

Because God knows that it had been hard enough to get him to open up the first time!

And even though I'm not expecting him to have completely reversed his habitudes overnight, I guess I'd been hoping that our conversation in the barn would've prompted some kind of step in the desired direction.

Because it's clear that the bruises on my neck unnerved him. The turmoil on his face had made that clear. As the marks are not just some haphazard side-effect of our frantic love-making. They are a very real and visible reminder of the tangible strength of his feelings — and the fact that he lost control of them.

And as much as I understand the knee-jerk cause of his reaction, the last thing I want — or need — right now is for Drake to distance himself from me because he's scared of hurting me again.

That, I could not cope with.

"Demoiselle," nods Allard as I arrive back at my room.

I flash him a distracted smile on auto-pilot. He saw and heard what happened. There is no point rehashing anything. Especially since this isn't something he or Schweitzer can help with.

The weight of my Guard's concerned gaze flick over me as I shuffle past, but they both remain silent, no doubt sensing that I'm not in the mood for conversation.

Shutting the door behind me, I close my eyes as I lean back against the solidness of the wood.

Why are things never simple 'round here?

I really wish Drake and I could've taken a moment to talk things through. Because today's Apple Harvest Festival is expected to see hundreds of people descend onto Applewood to not only celebrate this year's bountiful crop of Cordonian Rubies, but to also catch a glimpse of the new King and his future Queen.

And if I thought that cornering Drake at the apple pick had been hard, the chances of being able to do so today are going to be slim to none.

But the rest of the week doesn't offer any better options because tomorrow we're off to Italy, where we'll likely have even less opportunity for privacy given the high-profile and international nature of the coming engagements.

My eyes snap open. I have to talk to him now.

As much as Drake may be concerned about protecting what's left of my image, I'm not going to let him use the inconvenience of our circumstances as an excuse to hide behind his insecurities or erect walls between us. Because the hard truth is that there's never going to be a good time to talk unless we make time.

Which is exactly what I am going to do, possible scandal be damned. I cannot let a tenuous fear borne out of a possible public backlash hold me back. My relationship with Drake is worth infinitely more to me than whatever garbage the paps may decide to print because some aristo decided to tattle on me if I get caught sneaking back into his room.

Because, let's face it. Even if I do end up on the front pages tomorrow (for all the wrong reasons), the fact of the matter is that any photo, any situation — no matter how sordid or innocent — can be spun any which way.

I've learnt that the hard way. So, I may as well use it to my own advantage for once.

Pushing myself away from the door, I march into my walk-in closet with renewed determination. Pulling the t-shirt that I'd slept in over my head, I quickly throw on a bra, some jean shorts and a black tank top.

Slotting my bare feet into my well-worn Sketchers, I make my way over to the French doors that lead out onto balcony so I can try to figure out the best way to scamper over to Drake's room without killing myself, given that I stand a better chance of slipping under the aristo's nosy radar via the balcony than going back through the corridor.

Hopefully, I can—

Tap, tap tap.

I stop mid-stride at the sound of knocking coming from the other side of my door.

Turning around, I contemplate whether I should respond, or pretend that I hadn't heard.

I have precious little time if I want to catch Drake before he disappears on me to do... whatever it is that he does in the mornings before the start of a royal event.

So, if I want to make it to his room, I need to go now before he finishes getting dressed.

But, then again, there is only a very small number of people at court who'd come directly to my room to talk to me. Especially at this time in the morning.

So, it could be important. It could be about Tariq...

...it could be Drake.

The latch clicks open.

I glance anxiously back towards the balcony, trying to decide if I should—

"May I come in?"

I whirl around in surprise at the sound of the unexpected voice. "Christian!"

He pokes his head 'round the door. "I... I didn't catch you in a state of undress, did I?"

"No! No... I was already dressed," I admit, trying to be as casual as possible as I quickly brush my hair over my shoulders in a haphazard attempt to try and cover up the bruises, given that I hadn't thought to slather any cover-up over myself yet.

Christian definitely doesn’t need to be asking questions about those!

"Ah, good!" he responds, stepping fully into the room and closing the door behind him. "You're an early riser, like myself."

"You can thank the Beaumonts," I mutter under my breath, glancing guiltily back toward the balcony.

So much for stealing a much-needed moment with Drake...

"I apologise for the intrusion," Christian continues, crossing the space between us, "especially at such an early hour. But I was hoping to catch you alone before the start of the Apple Harvest Festival."

One word catches my attention. "A-Alone...?"

He comes to a stop in front of me. "Very much so."

Anxiety flares in the pit of my stomach as Drake's words from yesterday swirl through my mind.

...he's trying to win you back.

And it suddenly hits me that I haven't been alone — truly alone — with Christian since the day of the Jamboree. When he took me into the hedge maze and offered me a duchy.

My mind starts to whirl.

Had that been the start of this... crusade? The fact that I turned him down? Does he still think he can change my mind? Is he simply incapable of accepting 'no' as an answer?

I force my gaze up to meet his.

His emerald green eyes behold me calmly, with maybe a hint of excitement. But I cannot read his intention.

"Wh-why?" I finally blurt out.

A smile spreads across his face. "To bestow upon you your letters patent, of course!"

I gape at him. "My letters of what?"

He chuckles good-naturedly at my evident confusion. "Letters patent. Itis a type of royal decree that formally confers some manner of privilege onto the names designee — an office of state, a coat of arms, a commercial monopoly... or, in this case, your new title as Duchess of Valtoria."

With a flourish, he pulls out a small, leather-bound box that he's been hiding behind his back.

I stare at it mutely.

"It won't bite, I promise," he assures me wryly.

Reaching up with a tepid smile, I accept the box, which is a lot heavier than it looks.

Opening it up, I find a medieval-looking document nestled in the lid, complete with densely-packed Chancery script and and a historiated initial C embossed with the stylised image of the Cordonian royal crest.

Peering at the text — which I can only assume is an archaic form of French — I can just about make out the odd word, like my name, Christian's name, and Valtoria. But the rest remains completely incomprehensible.

Presumably some grand declarations about the bestowal...

In the bottom part of the box rests a cream-coloured envelope also bearing the Cordonian royal crest, along with my name, though this time written in delicate cursive lettering.

"What's this?" I ask Christian, lifting the letter up.

"Your papers of naturalisation," he informs me. "Along with your new passport and ID card."

I glance up at him in surprise. "I am now a Cordonian citizen?"

"It would not have been possible to issue the letters patent otherwise," he says. "Even a king must abide by the diktats of the law."

"I... don't need to sign anything?"

"The US Consulate was very accommodating, given the unique nature of the circumstances."

My stomach twists unexpectedly. "Oh..."

Dual citizenship is a good thing, right?

Returning my attention to the box, I see that the envelope has been concealing a large, intricate-looking seal bearing what appears to be the stylised outline of a rampant phoenix, next to which sits a signet ring with the same image.

"Does it meet expectations?" asks Christian.

"I'm not sure I know what I'd been expecting..." I admit, running a finger over the lines of the mythical bird, marvelling at the level of detail that's been put into creating such a realistic rendering, complete with individual licks of flame spouting from the tail feathers.

"Any egregious spelling errors?"

"Not that I can see," I admit, glancing up at him. "But—"

"Excellent!" he declares, reaching over the lid of the box to deftly pluck the signet ring out from its nest of blue silk.

Before I have a chance to react, he's clasped my hand in his to poise the heavy circlet of gold at the tip of my ring finger.

"Wait!" I gasp in the face of the unexpectedly intimate turn of events. "What are you—?"

"It would be remiss of me if I did not verify the correctness of the sizing," he advises, meeting my panicked gaze calmly.

"You don't need t—"

"It would be my pleasure," he insists, slipping the ring onto the digit before I can protest further.

As he withdraws his hand, my eyes fall onto the spot where the cool metal's unfamiliar weight now encircles the base of my finger.

"Perfect," Christian declares with a satisfied smile, brushing his thumb over the phoenix insignia.

I stare at the band with an uneasily mix of feelings swirling in my chest. "Christian, I—"

"Let's celebrate, shall we?" he announces, pulling back to click his fingers with a decisive snap.

On cue, the door behind Christian swings open to admit a veritable procession of servants bearing ice buckets, champagne, crystal flutes and tiny servings of finger food.

"Wait..." I stammer in the face of organised onslaught. "They were waiting outside this whole time?"

"I may have take a page out of your party planning book," he admits with a grin while the industrious staff set about transforming my bedroom into a first-class tea room. "Seeing the success you had with Drake on his birthday, I thought I would try my hand at surprising you on this important day."

"And that's great, but I never agreed—"

"Didn't you?" Christian asks with a level look as he nabs a miniature scone from the tray of a passing server.

I shake my head. "No, I—"

"Because I specifically recall you giving your unambiguous consent at yesterday's apple pick to proceed with finalising your new status," he states, taking a bite out of the pastry.

I open my mouth, but promptly shut it as the conversation from the orchard floats back into my consciousness.

"...having the paperwork squared away before our departure would grant significant boon for your image."

"Oh. Okay..."

"Oh, fuck..." I mutter as the cold hand of hindsight clamps down on the nape of my neck.

Christian had obviously mischaracterised my somewhat dazed reaction as some kind of explicit affirmation.

And since Drake's appearance yesterday had interrupted the conversation at that key moment, I never had a chance to correct the misunderstanding.

But I need to. Because once again, Christian has taken matters into his own hands and acted without my my prior agreement or approval t. Just like he had done when he decided to send me away during the Coronation Ball, only to then bring me back to court as his mistress, not to mention spring an actual duchy on me without any warning.

And while his heart's probably been in the right place each and every time, I'm not sure that I can cope with any more bolts from the blue.

Especially when they so drastically upend my life.

Heaving a breath, I look back up at the King of Cordonia again. "Look, Christian, I really appreciate all of this, but I think there's been a major—"

The loud bang! of the champagne bottle shooting its cork across the room makes me jump.

Turning around, I can see that the gold-coloured liquid is already in the process of being dispensed into a pair of waiting crystal flutes.

"I hope you like this Moët & Chandon Imperial Vintage 1946 that I had picked out," Christian murmurs, brushing a hand over the small of my back. "It is an exceptional cuvée with notes of citrus, apple and pear — an apt combination, I thought, given the occasion."

"Because of the pear trees in Valtoria..." I surmise heavily, watching a footman bring over a pair of freshly-filled champagne flutes with a foreboding note of finality.

"Exactly," confirms Christian, grabbing a glass from the tray. "A beautifully complimentary pairing. One that hope we can both enjoy for many years to come."

"Yes, but—"

"Let's toast, shall we?" prompts Christian, cutting me off yet again as the footman proffers me the other serving of expensive bubbly.

I stare at it like a poison pill.

This is what Drake had warned me about, isn't it? That Christian would seek to manoeuvre me into a corner like a chess piece... By giving with one hand, only to take with the other when the time came for the chips to fall due. Because what better way to create an unimpeachable sense of obligation than by making me into a duchess? A literal vassal to the Crown? Required to do the King's bidding, no matter the cost?

And if that really is his aim, then he has certainly been succeeding.

But at the same time, I am not sure I can trust my assessment. Christian has given no indication, one way or another, as to where his goals lay. And even if the misunderstanding had been genuine, to turn him down now would not only be inexplicably rude, but maybe also dangerous?

Would I be jeopardising Christian's support in the hunt for Tariq and my quest to set the record straight if I offend him by throwing all his heartfelt effort back in his face? Especially when I don't know for certain what Christian's motives are?

Because what if Drake is wrong? What if there is no hidden agenda and I'm just massively overthinking this entire thing because I've been burned once already and now everyone looks suspect... Even — and especially — when I'm being offered help?

"Harper?" queries Christian. "Everything alright?"

I shake myself out of my stupor and grab the crystal flute. "I'm fine. Just... Trying to come to grips with it all."

"There will be plenty of time for that," he assures me with a grin, raising his glass. "To the new Duchess of Valtoria!"

I clink the delicate crystal in my hand against his with a leaden feeling in my stomach.

There's no going back now...

For better or for worse, I have just become an aristo.

The story continues in Chapter 16 - Snakes in the Garden

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(Less Than) Noble Intentions only (let me know if you want to be added!)

@thetruthisthatiloveyou @anakjaybon-blog

[mouldymp3rotations]

0824-011

Part IV of my 20th anniversary series !

Part I Part II Part III

This post was brought to you by Node of Scherzo before Versailles even was a thing :D I was really, really excited when Versailles happened, and even more when they teamed up with Kaya and Juka to make Node of Scherzo. Here's why lol (ok there are no Juka songs here but eeeeeh)

As usual : Song titles link to individual mp3 file download

All 5 songs can also be downloaded together, in a zip file, from the link at the bottom

藍華柳~aikaryu - すすめ!パイレーツ (susume! pirates)

Aikaryu being Teru's band before Versailles :)

Another iconic piece from Aikaryu, probably their best, imo, that still makes me wish their van never crashed (but then again, if that didn't happen, maybe Teru and Hizaki wouldn't have started working together, and they do riff well together aaah...)

Susume! Pirates was on the mini-album 海賊盤~Aye.藍.sir~ (kaizokuban~aye. ai. sir~ more puns from our buddy aikaryu uhuhuh), released in 2004.

aaah, indie goodness ♥

HIZAKI - Ritual (featuring fu-ki from BLOOD)

... Well Hizaki was also Hizaki before versailles, I suppose. His solo career is pretty solid, though ! I was already vaguely aware of BLOOD at the time, and this song convinced me to look further into it :)

This version of Ritual was on Maiden†Ritual, released in 2004 (it was somewhat self-covered under HIZAKI grace project and sung by Juka a few years later, but Juka's falsetto is so bad you might as well stick to the fuki version ahahhaah)

LAREINE - Scarlet Majesty

Lareine being one of Kamijo's bands before versailles, if I even needed to introduce him...

Now this was one of the first Lareine song I heard, I don't remember what was the very first, but this one was the one that made me love Lareine :3 And it's another one of these songs I didn't realized was so new, at the time... (but also, in my head, somehow, lareine disbanded in 2001 LOL)

Scarlet Majesty was a single released in 2003.

Malice Mizer - au revoir

The thing is, I thought that malice would suit the mood better than m10m (but then again here's Schwarz Stein at the end lmao), especially right after Lareine, AND once you've heard one m10m song, you've pretty much heard it all (there's one in the 1st post of the series ;) ), BUT that statement isn't true about Malice. I've done Klaha era, now here's Gackt lolz. (also Juka wouldn't be Juka without a good Gackt base, so eh...) (also, also : i'm pretty sure that at least Közi showed up to a node of scherzo event, back then, iirc)

Also, ngl, I chose between this, Le Ciel, and Bel Air, and I'm not sure how I elected au revoir... It might just be that Mana's flower costume is my fave of all time ♥

Au revoir was a single released in 1997.

(enjoy this non-crunchy clip omfgoth im always emotional when I actually see it and I dont have to guess what the pixels mean T^T)

Schwarz Stein - Rise to Heaven

Schwarz Stein being Kaya's band bef... WELL. They were active from 2001 to 2004, and have been semi active since 2011. Kaya started his solo career in the meantime, partaking in several side projects, including Node of Scherzo. (And Hora spent his time buying shoes and living (?) in Hawaii, I guess...)

IT'S THE FIRST SCHWARZ STEIN SONG I EVER HEARD !!! At the time, this, queen of decadence and fester love was all I could find on lime wire lol. And it stayed like that until a parental unit gifted me a legit copy of New Vogue Children (there were a lot of "miya records" copies circling on ebay, back then). So anyway, I heard that and I fell in love and it's been 20 years and counting :D

Rise to Heaven was on the album New Vogue Children, released in 2003

Bonus because it was already uploaded in mega :

Node of Scherzo, featuring Teru, Hizaki, Juka, Kamijo, and Kaya here, and among others

Node of Scherzo was a series of concert put up together by versailles, Kaya, and Juka, in 2007. They basically created a musical based on beauty (lol) involving a love triangle and songs from Versailles, Hizaki grace project, and Kaya's solo career. After the released of Carmilla, it became a vampire story as well.

NoS also paved the way for the monstrosity that is JVM Roses Blood Symphony lol

.zip file downloadable HERE~