#i just played with it until it looked nice. the blue dots are ... some sort of effect layer i don't remember which

[sanctus-ingenium]

I was wondering how achieve such a wonderful textured finish on your pieces? They are wonderful and I love their resemblance to aged photographs and the speckles of colors in the backgrounds. Your art is mesmerizing :)

you can see some of the texture brush sets i use in my #info_asks tag but i have some more (procreate) tips aside from just brushes

also hi i made this whole thing and then stupidly hit ctrl z to erase ONE word and i lost the entire bottom half of the post and all my image descriptions so fuck you tumblr i had to make this twice

to get a faded photo or old digital screen look, consider duplicating the canvas (once all the layers are merged) and using a gaussian blur tool on the new duplicated layer. then set that to low opacity to add a misty sort of look. looks nice in combination with some chromatic abberation and a small bloom effect. then a subtle noise filter on top:

for faded print effects, it's really worthwhile to learn how to use layer masks. you can use a layer mask to non-destructively 'weather' blocks of colour or lineart, without erasing the layer itself. the weathered ink/block print effect here was made using layer masks which means that if i just hide the mask, the lineart becomes solid black again and easy to alter or colour in:

for old paper effects you can just set a paper texture on multiply over the art sure, but you can also combine it with the blur & bloom thing, a really subtle drop shadow and canvas tilt, and highlights to make it look like an aged photograph of a card. this originally had a transparent bg but i'll post it here with a white bg so that the drop shadow is more obvious. the scuffed edges of the card (left) were hand drawn, simple white stucco brush. the bigger patch of scuffed ink (top right) was a texture stamp.

for block print looks you can move the colour layer out of alignment by a few pixels - but only after you're absolutely sure you're done with it, otherwise you'll get something like this -

i forgot to erase out her eye before i moved the red layer so now her eye defeats the 'look' of a misaligned print. the black lineart and red layer were also given the same layer mask treatment as described above to make them look faded or like the ink didn't stick down right to the paper

you can do this with multiple colour layers too. if the colour layers are separated and set to multiply (as in this cmyk example), it'll leave halos and edges around each shape which mimic old comic book print

just to show what you can do WITHOUT any special brushes, here's a piece of one of my mez tarot cards from before i got any extra brushsets at all. for this one, i added a green tint over everything to mimic a sun-bleached or faded print (my actual goal wasn't 'medieval illustration' but actually 'trading card from the 60s that got left on someone's windowsill for decades'). the background texture is the procreate noise brush. the texture under the green lion drawing is the procreate concrete brush (to make it look painted onto a wall). the lettering and lineart is procreate's 6B pencil. but to properly aim for The Look of it being a printed physical object, i also used a perspective blur so that the edges are out of focus, and metallic gold highlights which don't match the lighting of the actual illustration and appear to be catching some other external light. that texture was made from the procreate noise brush

it's pretty simple compared to my later stuff but i still really like the effect

in terms of colours, you need to keep them unified so that they all appear to be acting under the same external light source, like if someone is holding up a torch to a painting then the painting colours will be glazed with firelight even if there's no painted fire. a really easy way to do this is to slap a multiply layer over everything in one shade - grey-yellow for a weathered paper look, or greenish blue for sunbleached photos. this unifies all the colours of the drawing. or you can apply a gradient map at a low opacity so that there's only a subtle change. or just do it by hand - if you want everything to be slightly tinted yellow, just pick the colours you normally would, but move the colour wheel towards yellow to get a yellowfied version of the base colour. easy

it's really important to consider how fading and weathering can affect printed colour. white paper yellows, black fades. you will rarely see pure black or pure white. which means you can use pure black or pure white to add external effects like the white scuff marks on the hierophant card. if the whole drawing is yellowed from age but there's some white somewhere, it's an easy shorthand to show that the scuff mark or whatever was not originally part of the drawing (great way to add some nasty stains lol)

[nadianova]

how i do my visual novel filtered photo backgrouds

ive had some questions about this so i figured i'd put together a quick post on my process and what goes into it.

this isnt really a tutorial and instead is just a ramble of how i do stuff with a ton of examples and pictures lol

read more below. this is a long post and you probably want to be looking at these images on your computer instead of your phone

step one is that i find CC0 photos or otherwise easy licenses to use because I'm lazy and don't want to have a list of credits of random photographers caue i used one of their images but also i don't want to use stuff without crediting

because they have a general lincese that just wants you to mention the site i prefer unsplash or pixabay but there's other public domain type photo sites too obviously

so like okay heres a random picture

i have a photoshop CS5 from 10 years ago. but these can be done with gimp or krita and whatever. theres even photopea that has photoshop in the browser

basic stuff is that i start by cropping my bg into my renpy resolution (i use 1920x1080) this is also the part where sometimes i might rotate a bg. it is a good way to add some chaos vibes to a scene

i tend to add some mild blur effect since i find that having too sharp photos as backgrounds clashes with the artstyle of my sprites. like just a couple pixels worth of blur tends to do it

the next part is called fuck around and find out

i like to play with the values to just get random results. hue/saturation for tinting the picture, messing with the curves to get some really sharp effects, or channel mixer to add more of a color

this part is just purely vibes based but i personally think reducing the colors of the background is the simplest way to create something that feels coherent. especially if you make backgrounds based on moods. like having a blue tinted bedroom vs a red tinted one really changes the atmosphere

you can get some pretty intense effects but its always important to remember that its meant to be a background and there's a risk it distracts from the sprites

in this case im not including the effect for the curves. after the colours look fine the final step i tend to have is apply some sort of effect.

i really like changing the colour mode to indexed colour since i like crunchy pixels. (had to zoom in to 100% to show the actual effect) downside of indexed is that it doesn't look ideal unless its displayed in the exact resolution it was made in but i like it

here is the images before indexed mode:

after indexed mode(i think you have to click the image and open it in full to see the actual effect):

another thing ive been playing with recently has been grain+chromatic aberration combo. it makes things feel surprisingly lively with just this simple thing so you'll probably see me overusing this effect in the future

you have to mess with the numbers to get the effect you want but for me these were the parameters I've been using

ignore the preview missing idk why it does that.

heres the image (the non indexed version) after these krita effects

one random special mention i have is that playing with layer blend modes is great

in this example i just copied the same background, mirrored it horizontally and set the layer blend mode to color and it lowered the layer opacity slightly. it just adds some.... idk what to call it visual noise? itj just fucks it up a bit. i used overlapping images and screen modes in some of the hopeless junction images i did for some pretty nice effects

i dont really know waht the blend modes do i just scroll until something looks good lmao

theres a ton you can do with these. like for example just adding a single air brush dot of a bright color on a separate layer and setting it to some blend mode to add a tint to a background

i used these both in malmaid and in the second one i just brushed on some color on a separate layer to give it a moodier vibe

i think having variations of the same background is an extremely easy way to add some life to the bgs without having to do new stuff. like here was the hotel lobby when entering, and here is the hotel lobby when they ran away from the place. i added a radial blur with photoshop

i think theres some beaty in artifacts that come from low resolution images too. sometimes i intentionally use images that have clear compression artifacts cause i think it looks neat. i don't really worry about the details too much as the vibe is the most important thing

its honestly just a matter of knowing these tools exist and just fidgeting around with combinations to find what you want. it also helps to look at other backgrounds or images in general that you come across and just be curious. how was this done? how could i recreate it? that's the type of experimenting that has led me to these.

idk thats all i have to say. ty for reading and play malmaid on steam like and subscribe for more gay puppies

[fluffyzoey]

"Family Dinner"

Zoey agrees to take Estelle to meet her parents for supper. Trouble ensues, and Zoey realizes a few things too <3

Reblogs n feedback. encouraged.

“This is it.”

Estelle had walked by it hundreds of times, probably. It was an old, gray house with white trim, a perfect green lawn dotted with flowers, quite a feat considering how late into November it was. Its windows seemed to watch her, big and clean with heavy curtains hanging from the rods above them. It was a normal house, but part of it seemed almost unfriendly to people like Estelle.

“So…this is where you grew up, huh?” She clutched Zoey’s hand as they approached the home. Zoey seemed nervous. She let go of Estelle’s hand about halfway through the yard.

“Yes. Estelle, listen to me. As far as my folks are concerned, you’re just a friend from theatre who didn’t have anywhere to go for Thanksgiving, understood? No funny business, no hand holding, and if you refer to me as babe, it’s on sight.” Zoey patted her partner’s back gently, turning her body around to face her. “You got all that? If all goes well we can be in and out in a few hours.”

Estelle nodded, just for proof she understood the assignment. “Got it. But, hypothetically, if we snuck off to the bathroom…?”

Zoey rolled her eyes and risked a kiss, just a quick little peck on the lips. “Shut the fuck up. You’re trying to out me at this point.”

The foyer was decorated exactly the way Estelle had expected it to be. The walls were a sort of sandy beige, each one lined with framed photos of what appeared to be a young Zoey and Zach. Estelle was a little bit unsettled by the unfamiliarity of it all, but was overjoyed to have access to her girlfriend’s childhood photos: there was Zoey in some play as an elementary schooler, there she was as a toddler in a tiny princess costume, and there she was as prom queen, which Estelle remembered very well.

The sign above the door into the kitchen read “Bless This Nest”, and blessed it seemed to be. Estelle, having not been raised religious, wondered if it was some sort of requirement to have a crucified Jesus statue in every room. She shoved this thought out of her head as a pair of hazel eyes met hers.

“Zach!” She beamed. Zoey’s brother, while not getting along with his sister a good chunk of the time (which, frankly, was quite fair, considering Zoey was a bitch to pretty much everyone), had always been nice to Estelle. Today, though, he looked nervous, somber. Estelle reminded herself that Zach was in a similar situation to herself. Zoey had nearly outed him numerous times; if anyone found out, both twins were screwed.

“Hey, Estelle.” He shot her a knowing glance. “Zo, uh, mom and dad are in the dining room. They’re excited to meet your friend.” 

Zoey looked so much like her mother. That was the thought at the forefront of Estelle’s mind as she followed the twins into the dining room. She was greeted by the smiling face of a brunette woman in a pullover cardigan and a pair of yoga pants.

“Zoey!” She chirped. She wrapped her daughter in an embrace. “You’re late! I was so scared you’d been taken from me on your way here, and-” Finally, the attention landed on Estelle.

“You must be that friend of hers!” Mrs. Chambers laughed heartily. “Oh, Zoey was telling me all about you! My name is Michelle, this is my husband, Carl…” She gestured behind her. 

Carl Chambers was a tall, yet rather rotund man. He didn’t share many similarities with his children, save for the eyes, which were unmistakably Zoey’s: greenish-brown, yet just as cold as ice blue ones would be (until you got used to them, at least). He gave a grumble in Estelle’s general direction then went back to watching Joe Rogan videos on the phone held awkwardly out in front of him. 

“And you’ve met my son, Zachary.” Mrs. Chambers added. “I was blessed with two lovely children, that’s right! I’m always telling Zoey, having kids early was the best decision I ever made!”

Zoey looked about ready to A) bolt up the stairs, and B) throw herself out a window. 

“Ah, but she’s all wrapped up in her silly little theater and…auditions and…rehearsals…all of those things.” She clicked her tongue impatiently. “Grandkids can wait, I guess.” Suddenly, an idea seemed to come upon her.

“Speaking of grandkids, ah, your Mima should be here any moment! Her…her nurse is driving her in, you know, the live-in one she hired…shame she wouldn’t let us move her into the retirement home, but to each their own! Turkey’s in the oven, stuffing’s on the stove, and, Zoey, dear, fix your shirt, you look like a…like a…like an improper lady.”

From across the room, Zach mouthed “whore”. Zoey waited for their mother to turn her back and then stuck up her middle finger. Maybe this wouldn’t be too terrible?

After a minor fuss over Zoey’s…slut shirt…Mrs Chambers locked eyes with Estelle. “And what about you, dear? No boyfriend to stay with? No husband?”

Estelle resisted the urge to roll her eyes and instead stayed calm enough to respond with: “No…I’m not looking for anything at the moment.”

Nice save. 

Mrs. Chambers gave a little tsk tsk noise. “Well, when you do, my Zach is always single, he’s-”

“Mom, we’ve been through this.” Zach groaned. 

“Poor dear’s never had a date in his life!”

“Fuckin’ pussy…” Mr. Chambers added helpfully from his armchair. “Coulda done what I did and just taken, a real man wouldn’t-”

Estelle looked over at Zoey, a surefire way to drown out any unwanted noise. Her girlfriend cast her a gentle smile, and Estelle felt like she was going to melt. No matter who was around, somehow Zoey still had eyes for her. It inflated her ego quite a bit, actually. 

“Well, why don’t you kids take your seats?” Mrs. Chambers suggested. “Estelle, dear, I’m sure you’ve had a dinner like this before, of course?”

“She’s not a hobo, mom.” Zoey plopped down on a chair and gestured for Estelle to sit beside her. 

“I’m only asking if she knows how we say grace, and pray before we eat, my wonderful daughter. Come help me dish everything up before your Mima arrives.”

And thus began 20 minutes of awkwardly following Zoey and her mother around. Estelle trailed behind, actively afraid of getting too close. She was well aware that she was a clingy bastard, but if she let that side show, it may have equaled…well, nothing positive.

“Now, tell me a bit about yourself, dear.” Mrs. Chambers handed Estelle a dish of some sort of foul-smelling casserole. “I haven’t seen you around, you must be quite the homebody!”

“Yeah, uh, I guess so. I own a thrift shop.” She wished with all her might that someone would come relieve her of her casserole-holding burden. No one came.

“Really!” Zoey’s mum looked pleased. “That’s…very interesting! Now that you mention that, I think Zoey may have said that when she told us you were coming for dinner. Now, dear, you two met at…theatre?”

“Yeah!” That was a total lie. Estelle’s face went red as she scrambled to think of a way to make it more believable. “I do tech stuff. Makeup and costumes.”

“Oh…You don’t know the Woodwards’ girl, do you?” Mrs Chambers’ voice became soft. “Zoey mentioned she ran makeup.”

“I’m right here, mom.” Zoey emerged from beside the kitchen island. “And yeah, of course she knows Alice. She’s doing a damn great job.”

“I know, I know, but…oh, Zoey, you know what I tell you about the, ah, choices…that Alice has made…I don’t want that for you. It’s disobeying God’s word!” She pursed her lips, pausing for a moment before gently touching her daughter’s shoulder. “I’m just glad you’re not one of them. You know…L…L…”

“Lesbian?” Estelle put in, only trying to be helpful. Zoey made a slicing motion over her neck. 

Shit. 

“Is that what she’s calling herself? When I was young they just said gay, none of this fancy…fancy stuff. You know, the other day, I met someone who called herself pansexual! People are attracted to frying pans, Zoey!”

They ambled back to the dining room, placing dishes upon dishes onto the flat mahogany tabletop. Mr Chambers and Zach were standing at opposite sides of the room, eying each other; Zach with anxiety, and his father with disdain. 

“I was just telling our guest about Bill Woodward’s poor daughter.” Mrs Chambers sat down solemnly. “What a shame she ended up the way she did.”

“A miracle the Woodwards’re even botherin’ to show their mugs at church.” Her husband replied gruffly. Estelle wanted nothing more, in that moment, than to throw herself at Zoey and kiss her right on the lips in front of the whole Chambers clan, but nevertheless, she remained in her seat.

Within minutes, the door opened again, and in walked a withered, almost emaciated old woman. She was dressed in a long yellow dress and a bonnet, looking straight out of church on Easter Sunday. Estelle wondered if she’d maybe gotten the holiday wrong. Behind her, a young man with a dark complexion and very short, buzz-cut hair and a faceful of carefully groomed stubble, carried what appeared to be her purse. Zach’s face went bright red when he saw him.

“Ah! Miranda!” Mrs. Chambers flew to her feet, taking the bag from the young man. “And Josh, so good to see you. This is Zoey’s new little friend, Estelle. Estelle, well…I’ll let Zoey do the introducing, hm?”

Zoey jerked a finger toward the old woman. “This is my grandmother, we call her Mima. That’s Josh, her assistant and Zach’s roommate.”

“Nice to meet you both.” Estelle smiled at the young man, and he returned it. When she looked at Mima, she merely got a disgusted grimace.

As the family took their seats, hands came together and eyes began to shut. Estelle had been raised pretty much agnostic, and was more confused than anything, but she politely followed the instruction Zach gave from her left side. Zoey looked bored out of her mind, but everyone else seemed rather peaceful. It was quite nice, if not for the immediate threat of her girlfriend being disowned.

“We thank the Lord for this meal.” Mima’s weak old voice seemed to scratch the air when she talked. “And for our family.”

“And that none o’ my children are fuckin- homos!” Mr Chambers interrupted. “And for, uh, Heaven above, o’course.”

“Amen.”

After the initial meal was over (and it was surprisingly good, especially to Estelle, a notoriously horrible cook), the younger members of the family managed to excuse themselves from the table and go back into the kitchen for drinks and snacks. Almost as soon as Mima, Mr and Mrs Chambers were out of sight, Zoey’s arm snaked around her girlfriend’s waist.

“Thanks for putting up with them.” She tilted Estelle’s head up toward her own, eyes narrowing the same way they did in the bedroom. “You look so fucking hot like this by the way. You should dress up more often, babe.” She let her hands dance over Estelle’s body, feeling every fiber of her dress shirt and long skirt. “So hot.”

Meanwhile, Zach had reunited with his boyfriend, and that’s definitely what Josh was to him, Estelle knew it immediately, and the two were concocting some sort of suicide juice, like what you made when you mixed all the soft drinks together at a fountain. 

Well, this one was alcoholic and far more likely to kill you, anyway.

“Only way to deal with the old hag is to get a little tipsy.” Josh leaned against the counter and downed a shot of the stuff, handing a glass to Zach as well. 

“I’m in.” Zoey shrugged. She glanced over at Estelle. “I assume you’re not, miss shirley-temple-at-the-bar?” 

Estelle puffed out her chest. “I drink on Holidays only, don’t want a repeat of my 21st.” She examined the selection of liquor before pouring a glass of brandy.

“Of course it’s brandy.” Zoey remarked slyly. “You’re an old soul, aren’t you?”

Estelle took a sip. Then another, then another. It was probably a bad sign that she was tipsy without even half of the glass down the hatch, but she took another swig. In her mind if she passed out drunk she could go home earlier.

“Jesus fucking Christ baby,” Zoey put a hand on her shoulder. “Any more of that and you’ll be throwing up in my car on the ride home. So, uh, don’t fucking drink more.”

Zoey recognized that this was a bad idea, but part of her (perhaps the part that hadn’t had sex in two whole weeks) really liked the idea of Drunk Estelle. That version of her lover tended to be clingy, affectionate, and above all, really fucking hot. Was this the time or place, though? No. 

Before long, her parents and grandmother had emerged from the dining room. “I see you’re all hitting it off in here! Oh, goodness, are you drinking? Zoey! A proper woman doesn’t-“

“Relax, mom, it’s ginger ale.” Zoey lied. This satisfied her mother on that front, before her eyes reached the redhead. 

“What’s she having?” Her mother replied hastily. “After living with your father for so long I can tell when someone’s drunk.”

“Let her have fun, mom. It’s Thanksgiving. Give. Thanks.” Zach’s normal, not-pretending-to-be-straight-for-parents voice was shining through now. 

“Hey, so, it’s…probably a good idea for us to get going.” Zoey turned to Estelle, filled with a new sense of urgency and not just because she wanted to get home and make out. Estelle put on her pouty face.

“Noooo~” She whined. “Wanted…pie.”

“She knows what’s good for her!” Mr Chambers hollered. “Get the girl some pie, Michelle! It’s about damn time we had dessert!”

Estelle clapped gleefully like a child on Christmas morning. “Babe! Pie!”

Zoey felt her heart leap into her chest. “I told you not to call me that! Friends, uh, don’t call friends that!”

It was like Estelle had forgotten everything they’d talked about. Her eyes were watering. “Are…are you breakin’ up with me?” 

There was really only one way to save this. Mima and her parents were staring at her, appalled. “We were never dating! Liquor’s getting to your head, uh, Estelle-”

Zoey glanced back at her mother, who looked about ready to faint. “Dear…is she one of those…is she a…”

“No! No, mom!” Zoey backed away from Estelle, who was reaching for her. “Don’t worry, she’s, uh, pure and…of God or whatever. I’m gonna drive her home now, okay? Yeah, come on Estelle, we’re-”

“Out.” Her father said sternly. “I want her outta my house, Zoey! Go!”

Zoey grabbed Estelle by the wrist. “I’ll…I’ll call you later, mom! Happy Thanksgiving!”

There was no response.

“Did I ruin it all?” Estelle whispered. She was laying on her side, across from Zoey in bed. Zoey had been pretty quiet all night, almost nervous. Now, as she curled up in an old t-shirt and sweatpants, she shook her head no with a smile.

“Just go to sleep, baby. You’re gonna have one hell of a hangover tomorrow.” She pulled Estelle into her chest, letting her press her face against the tender flesh. Estelle’s legs wrapped around her hips, arms around her shoulders. Zoey sighed wistfully. Six months ago, she never would have even considered dating a girl. She actually wouldn’t have really wanted to date anyway: no date she’d ever been on felt fulfilling. Now, here she was, pressed so tightly against Estelle it was hard to tell where one girl ended and another began.

And to be honest? Zoey liked that. For once in her life, she liked someone else a hell of a lot.

[tropicpdf]

press any button / art trade with @thread-theocracy

3k / rated t / toyhou.se version

They squinted their eyes as light enveloped them. It was uncharacteristically bright for the Devildom, especially when Tora remembered they had just stepped into the kitchen in the dead of night. They looked up, only to find a bright blue sky and puffy white clouds. It seemed a lot like home.

Tora finally took on their surroundings after a moment of staring up. With a few blinks, they came to realize they stood in a tudor-styled town. Children ran around the fountain in the center of the marketplace, dogs barked in hopes of getting scraps from naive people eating at wooden tables. It was lively, it was bright–and it was not the House of Lamentation.

"What the hell!?" a voice shouted, though none of the people in town even seemed to notice.

Tora turned around, only to find Mammon standing dumbfounded. His brows were furrowed, and his hands scratched at his scalp in confusion. His outfit was rather unbefitting of Mammon; his designer jeans and boots traded for skin tight leggings and rough leather. The dagger on his hip, though, was the most concerning part of his getup.

"Tora!" he practically cried when they met eyes. He clambered closer, and grabbed the human by the shoulders. "Where are we!?"

"I don't know," they said, brushing the man's hands away. "Looks like Europe."

"I was just about to get my hands on that new bracelet Asmo–nevermind! What I'm saying is, were you in the House of Lamentation too?"

Tora nodded dumbly.

Mammon stepped back, and his shoulders slumped. He stomped his foot, and seemed as if he wanted to curse the sky. "It's Levi again, dammit!"

"Levi? Oh, one of his games?" 

"Why are we the ones brought into it this time? Oh, when I find him, I'm gonna…"

"I'm a way higher level than you, so don't even try it," Mammon was interrupted by another voice, and Tora immediately knew who it was without even moving.

Mammon would have rushed him if Levi didn't move behind Tora. "I'm not talkin' about this stupid game! I'm gonna beat your ass in real life!" the white-haired man called between clenched teeth.

"You won't get out of this game if you don't follow the story!" Levi yelped, ducking behind Tora, no matter if they were shorter than him. "So play nice!"

Tora put up their hands when Mammon seemed ready to lunge forward. "We've done this a hundred times. Just play the game."

"See?" Levi pointed from behind the human, antagonizing the other demon. "Tora gets it!"

Mammon howled out a few curses in response.

The game was a simple RPG, one that followed the basic formula and style of a popular game from the human world. The only difference, as far as Tora could tell, was the choice of classes rather than characters. Surely Mammon was a rogue of some sort, and Levi was a magic user, but as Tora looked down at their own garb, they couldn't determine what they were supposed to be.

That was, of course, until a creature poked its head out of their coat pocket.

"Is that a rat?" Mammon asked, pointing at the human. He said it with a grimace, and then when he realized it truly was a rat, he stepped back.

"Oh, cool," Tora said nonchalantly as they pulled the rodent from their pocket. They held it in their hand like it was a meal rather than an animal. "I must be a druid."

"Ah, Circle of the Moon!" Levi exclaimed, holding his head high. "That means you have the power to–"

"Yeah, yeah," Tora mumbled, putting the rat back in their pocket delicately. It poked its head out so only its ears and dot black eyes could be seen. "I've played my fair share of D&D games."

"So, what are we even supposed to be doing?" Mammon asked, changing the subject. He lifted his arms high in the sky and stretched as they walked through the town.

Levi jumped at the chance to explain. "So, our first quest is to help a blacksmith in this town. The whole draw of this game is that other players set quests! It's a huge co-op experience!"

Mammon's head lulled to the side and he looked at Tora with an unamused face. 

"This is it: the blacksmith we need to find!"

Tora looked where Levi motioned, and had to blink a couple of times to ensure what they were seeing was reality. That blacksmith… why was he so short? So round? Why did he look so much like Luke?

Mammon's words rang loudly in the air before Tora could even open their mouth. "You zapped Luke into this game too!?"

Levi shushed him as they approached the shop. "I didn't do anything. It should have only affected the House of Lamentation anyway."

Luke, when he realized who had approached him, gasped. He was clad in the clothes befitting of a blacksmith, albeit not so fitting on a child like him. He clapped and looked up at Tora with wide eyes. "You play this game too, Tora?" he asked, and Tora wasn't sure if they really were seeing sparkles in his big blue eyes.

Tora's lips contorted into a mix of a smile and a grimace, earning a nervous laugh from Levi. They just nodded their head, which made the boy even more excited.

"Simeon said I can play this game so long as I don't spend real money on it!" Luke said triumphantly.

"That's so lame, you can't get good when you–" Before Levi could finish his statement, Tora slapped a hand on his shoulder and stared up at him with dead eyes. The purple-haired demon immediately shut his mouth.

"Oh, that reminds me!" Luke said, pulling something out from behind the worktable. It was a map, with a certain location circled. "I bet you guys are here for my quest, right?"

"Hold on," Mammon quickly interrupted, "Is there a reward for this quest?"

"Of course! That's how you play this game!"

"What's your quest?" Tora asked.

Luke pointed to the map, "There's a beast in this part of the forest. It has something I need to make some armor, but I'm not a high enough level to beat it."

Levi stuck out his chest and placed his hands on his hips. "Leave it to us! I'll take it down single handedly."

"We'll do it together," Tora replied, rolling up the map and slipping it into their satchel. Without so much as a glance to the brothers, Tora started walking. It wasn't until Mammon and Levi realized they were gone that they started following the human.

"This sucks. This is a game, we should be able to teleport places, or something," Mammon whined, throwing his arms up as they wandered through the dense words. Tora and Levi walked ahead of him, opting to ignore most of his complaints.

"Well, if you both had been to this area before we all could have teleported here, but you haven't unlocked the waypoint, so even I can't use it," Levi huffed.

The eldest was going to say something in response, until Tora stopped in their tracks. They pointed, and the brothers followed their gaze. "Is that… the beast?" Tora questioned, eyebrows furrowing.

Mammon sounded unamused, "You brought Beel into this game too?"

"I don't pick and choose who the system brings in!" Levi yelled, but Tora rushed to cover his mouth with their hand. In the distance, the beast rumbled. It was Beel, but he seemed to be an Orc, or something similar. He laid on his back, and at the commotion, shifted and wobbled onto his side. Around him, half-eaten food and packaging littered the forest floor. 

"What's the thing Luke needed us to get?" Mammon asked, having moved behind Tora.

"An Orc nail. I guess it's for a potion," the human answered, staring at Beel. Well, if Beel was the beast, then it wouldn't be a very difficult feat. They slowly approached the large man, and the closer they got, the louder Beel’s snores grew. When Tora was just a step away from him, Beel shot up. He stretched his arms high above his head, and turned to Tora with a sleepy smile. “Found you.”

Tora only smiled at him. “Do you know where you are, Beel?”

“Yeah. It’s that game Levi likes. Belphie and I play it sometimes. He made my character.”

That would explain why the Avatar of Gluttony was found sleeping rather than munching away, Tora decided. They looked up at Beel with big eyes. “Can you help us with a quest? You’re an Orc in this game, right?”

Beel nodded his head.

“Can we have one of your nails?”

The orange-haired man looked past Tora then, staring his older brothers down for a moment. Then, it seemed as if he realized something. “Oh,” he said slowly. “My nail is a metal nail. Not my fingernails.”

“This game is stupid,” Mammon murmured, loud enough for Tora to hear. They simply ignored his complaints, and held out their hands to the large demon.

With that, Beel searched his pockets for the item in question. When he finally found it, he dropped it into the human’s hands. Tora nearly dropped it, huffing at the surprising weight of the spike. The moment they thanked him, Beel was back on the ground and snoozing away.

"Great!" Levi exclaimed, clapping his hands together. He earned a hush from Tora, as Beel made a noise in his sleep. The purple-haired demon continued sheepishly, "Now, we'll get this back to Luke. I'll just teleport all of us…"

In seconds, the group of three was back in the marketplace. Mammon seemed ready to have a heart attack. Without letting him catch a break, Tora forced the nail into Mammon's hands and pushed him forward. "Go turn in the quest," they said.

"Why me!? I don't want to play this game!" Mammon yelled, gripping the nail as if it was a sledgehammer. Tora slinked away before he could try anything.

Without much more fanfare, but with a lot of Mammon's little gripes, he waddled his way back to the blacksmith. Tora turned their attention to Levi, who was seemingly paying attention to his HUD. Tora couldn't see such a thing, but considering Levi was actually logged in and active on a computer, it made sense that he could address the tasks as normal. "What the hell did Mammon do?" he murmured, and then a moment later, he let out a loud gasp.

Tora crossed their arms and waited for an explanation.

"He… he started the final quest!? How did he manage to do that?"

"Hacks?"

"No way! A normie like Mammon, hacking a game as advanced as this one?" Levi grimaced at the thought.

Mammon came running back, holding something black high above his head. He waved it at Levi with a worried look on his face. When he reached the two, he slapped what looked like a gothic key into Levi's hands. "Luke gave me that! I don't know what it is! It's freaky as hell!"

Levi's mouth fell. "The final boss key!?"

"Why does a game like this have boss keys," Tora muttered, more to themself than to anyone else.

"We are not prepared for this. I mean, I've been playing for a week and I'm only level seventy-six. How am I expected to defeat the final boss with two people who haven't even hit level one!?"

"Just wait 'til we get outta here, Levi, I'm gonna beat your pasty ass," Mammon grumbled.

"Can we just try?" Tora asked, plucking the key from Levi's hands. They didn’t wait for a reply, instead heading towards the big, dark castle that sat on the horizon. It took a moment for the brothers to follow behind the human.

The pathway to the castle was dark and decrepit. Wiry tree branches covered the walkway, and crows caws from the tree tops. Mammon clung to the back of Tora’s tunic, while Tora nearly tripped over their own two feet behind Levi’s slow steps. It seemed as if the day immediately turned to night as they entered the forest, as no sun shined through the dead leaves of the trees. It was cold, quiet and terribly lonely. Tora’s rat squeaked in their pocket. “So, what kind of boss does this game have?” the human asked.

“A terrifying demon lord! It’s a terrible peacock monster. Surprised you haven’t seen it before. People have done some crazy fanart,” Levi answered. He stopped walking when something cracked in the woods, but continued on when nothing else happened. Mammon, on the other hand, yelped. 

"Do you guys really need me? I mean, I'm useless, right?" Mammon laughed nervously, "I'd bring ya down by stayin' around."

"You have to have a party of three or more to fight battles in this game," Levi explained.

"How convenient," Tora murmured.

Mammon simply groaned the rest of the way to the castle.

There was a strange aura emanating from the castle. Tora has seen plenty like it in their time playing video games, but this time around, the human felt a sense of unease. The entrance hall was decorated in red and black, and soft music spilled through the room. Tora wouldn't be surprised if a gigantic vampiric woman came through one of the doors.

"The boss battle is in the music room," Levi pointed out. He gestured to a large hallway, candlelit and lined by old portraits. Tora stuck out their chest and began walking first.

"This place is freaky," Mammon commented.

"Is it really any different from where we live?" Tora raised an eyebrow. They had gotten more than used to the gothic architecture and design of the Devildom, and living in a home like the House of Lamentation made Tora uncaring of things lurking in the dark.

"Blah blah, it's all Lucifer's shitty interior decoratin'. Why would I like it? Ain't my style at all."

Tora wondered for a moment. This game's final boss seemed… A little too familiar.

The piano music became louder the closer they got to the French doors at the end of the hall, the slow notes speeding up and becoming deeper and manic.

Levi pushed open the door, and low and behold…

Mammon screamed.

In the center of the darkened music room sat a grand piano. The light of the moon poured through the big windows and created an ocean against the wooden floor. The man sitting at the instrument was covered in black, the moon's rays lighting up his pale skin and making him seem to glow in an ethereal way.

The piano keys slammed, and the trio jumped at the sound. When the figure stood, his long coat wooshed around his thin legs. He turned to them, and his red eyes held an undeniable anger. "You three don't know how angry I am," Lucifer boomed, crossing his arms over his chest. Somehow, his horns seemed sharper like this.

"I knew it!" Tora exclaimed, ready to turn on their heel and book it out of the room.

"I can explain!" Levi cried out, shaking his head and putting up his hands in defense.

"I have heard your explanation a plethora of times. Has it ever made a difference? No," Lucifer droned on, taking a few steps forward.

"Whatever!" Mammon forced himself forward, suddenly finding vigour in the idea of fighting Lucifer. "Let's get this over with, huh!?"

Lucifer's wings perked up, stretching to their full span. He was ready to attack, and Tora had to admit they had seen this stance more often than they liked. They braced themself, a hand going into their pocket, when they finally remembered their little creature companion.

Tora threw their rat at Lucifer, and the fat creature landed square on his face. It grabbed at his fringe to stay put. Levi and Mammon gasped. The rat (Tora really should have named it; it felt rude to just refer to it as "the rat" now that they had used it for such a thing) lost its grip, and slowly began to slide down Lucifer's face. Had they been closer, they were sure it would have sounded like a hand squeaking down a glass window.

The rat flopped down to the ground, but was otherwise unphased. It sat up, wandered back up Tora's leg, and plopped down into their pocket once again. Immediately, all eyes were back on Lucifer.

Levi almost keeled over in laughter, which made Lucifer fume even further. "No one else has a HUD!" he exclaimed, wiping away tears. "But Lucifer's health bar just went all the way down!"

"A rat killed Lucifer?" Mammon's eyes seemed ready to bulge out of his face. Soon, he began cackling too.

Tora would have laughed as well, but they couldn't shake the death stare Lucifer was nailing his brothers with. In a moment, the dark castle vanished around them. The empty music room was replaced with Levi's cluttered mess of anime figures and manga, and Tora let out a sigh as the weight in their pocket disappeared. Lucifer, now back to his normal clothing and human form, grabbed Levi and Mammon by their ears. For Mammon, he yanked his golden earring as if to prove a point. The younger brothers cried out in pain, their laughs morphing into whimpers. Lucifer stared at the human as he pulled the two out of the room. "I only have two hands. You better be waiting patiently for me to come back for you. I have a wonderful punishment in mind for you three."

Tora nodded quickly.

Asmo threw wadded pieces of paper up at the three as they dangled from the ceiling beam of the foyer. Levi's head hung like he was dead, while Mammon tried to swing forward to bite Asmo's hand. Tora, though, looked blissful. It wasn't any sort of masochism; instead, Tora was content with the outcome of Levi's stupid little game. They had to admit, Lucifer looked pretty good as a video game boss. Asmo's paper ball hit them in the eye. So much for that thought.

[guqin-and-flute]

[ Teaser excerpt from the new ‘And A-Fu Makes 4′ chapter! ]

Gleefully, A-Fu crunched on a handful of the candied peanuts and dumped the rest out on the table to sort them into piles. He had separate ones for small ones, lumpy ones, darker ones, 2 stuck together--and then he would eat the pile, one by one, and lick his finger to pick up the leftover bits of sugar left over on the table. After about 3 piles, though, his tummy started to hurt and Blue-Father swept the rest back into the bag, ruining all his piles and declaring; “That’s enough sugar for today,” even though A-Fu and Yellow-Father both argued back.

“It’s just a treat, Er-ge!”

“Yeah, I’m still hungry!”

“Ohhh, well, then I’ll call for some soup for you,” Blue-Father replied as he tucked the bag into his own sleeve, running his other hand through Yellow-Father’s hair down his back. 

“Nooo, my dessert tummy is hungry, not my soup tummy!” 

“Mm, I’ve heard of dessert tummies. Dangerous things to expand,” Blue-Father teased and A-Fu stuck out his lip.

“Aren’t.”

“Er-ge, It’s a special occasion because I’m visiting! Look at his little face! How can you say no to that?”

“Somehow, I have; many a time. Painful though it is.”

His yellow father heaved a huge sigh and tilted A-Fu’s chin up, petting his cheeks and forehead. “So sad. So cruel. Er-ge only knows the asceticism of the Lan. He won’t let me dote on my only son.”

Mournfully, A-Fu shook his head. “No, he won’t. So sad. So cool.”

Blue-Father laughed. “It’s ‘cruel’ and you two are worse as a team.” Then, he leaned down and kissed Yellow-Father on the forehead, right above his red dot. “You’re very kind,” he murmured against his skin, and Yellow-Father closed his eyes and snuggled his face into him.

All afternoon, they stayed in, letting the people pass by outside and the dinner gong ring and the birds get ready for bed. Yellow-Father held him and held him and fed him each bite of dinner with his chopsticks while Blue-Father shook his head fondly and let him. They talked and laughed together, sharing bites of food and putting things on each other's plates, because that’s what you did to show people you loved them; Aunt Yanli had taught him that. After dinner, Blue-Father let him eat the rest of the peanuts as long as he drank so much water and played ‘What If’ together, with Yellow-Father asking the questions, like; ‘If you were a tree, what sort would you be?’ Or; ‘If you could teleport anywhere in the world right this second, where would you go?’ 

After that, Yellow-Father let him wear his hat and Blue-Father let him (carefully) practice swords in the house, so he could show Yellow-Father what he had been learning. It was the best night ever. The crickets chirped outside and the owls hoo-hoo-hoohoo’ed deep in the forest and A-Fu didn’t mention that they were probably staying up later than the Lan bedtime because maybe the grown ups forgot, and that was just fine by him. He bounced around until he was caught again by Yellow-Father and pulled into his lap for more kisses and snuggles while he chatted with Blue-Father over his head. 

It was so nice to have him home again. He thought that Yellow-Father should just quit Koi Tower and come live with them all the time, so he didn’t have to miss him ever.

[AO3 link to the series] [3zun Raise Jingyi Tag]

[silverflame2724]

A cute prompt for you to make up for the angst: Merman Au. In a world where humans and mer are acquainted communities (trade and navigation partners), Mer-WWX sees human prince Lan Zhan and tried to get his attention! Splashing to draw eyes, making acrobatic jumps to impress, wearing his best jiaro silks, leaving cute trinkets on his windowsill in the hopes that he will like them, and singing enchanting songs for his Prince, all hoping that Lan Zhan will sing back and court him (mermaids court with music and gifts so write a completely smitten WWX and go nuts!)

Oh thank you!! I absolutely adore merman/jiaoren!WWX!! And this prompt is so nice! I really appreciate you giving me such a happy prompt since my grandaunt died two days ago from Covid.

_______________________________

It was a complete coincidence that brought them together. Wei Wuxian swam to the surface, intent on exchanging the jiaoren goods for coin and food, when he noticed the bright decorations around town.

As he handed the stuff over, red tail swishing every now and then, he asked the vendor, “What’s going on? Is there a festival I don’t know about?”

“Ah, Young Master Wei! You’re just in time! The second prince is coming here!”

“Second Prince? Why is he coming here?” 

“It’s just a yearly inspection.”

What? Wei Wuxian hadn’t heard about this in all the years he’d been here!

“Why haven’t I heard about this before?”

“Ah....the Second Prince doesn’t like crowded places or making a big deal about his arrival, so he takes some sort of alternate route to come here. Though, this year, that route was flooded.”

“I see.....”

“Do you want to see him?” The vendor asked upon noticing Wei Wuxian’s thoughtful look. “He’s rumored to be a beautiful person, second only to his brother, the Emperor. We can get a few of my friends to carry a tub over so you can see him!”

“Oh! I couldn’t bother you all that way.” Wei Wuxian politely refused. “I have other errands to do, unfortunately.”

“Oh....”

The real reason he was thoughtful was because of his and his people’s prior horrible experience with royals. They had fled Lanling, where the king had captured many of his people for the pearls they cried in place of tears. Gusu had been reportedly better, its Emperor laying down a law that bans the harm of mythical creatures such as the jiaoren. But Wei Wuxian didn’t want to risk any sort of attention to his people after they had just escaped. 

Wei Wuxian waved goodbye and dove back under the water. When he arrived at his home after going through a series of underwater caves, he found out his parents knew of these yearly visits from the prince and that it was fine to wander around since the prince doesn’t usually stay for long.

Wei Wuxian nodded along and decided to do make sure to distribute the food and coin around his community. 

Before he knew it, the sun had set. Wei Wuxian returned to the surface, considering he wanted to have some spicy human food for dinner. After eating on the edge of the dock, tail partially in to keep himself from drying, he heard music from afar.

Curious as to the owner of such a beautiful sound, he submerges and follows the sound towards a more secluded area of the dock. There, dressed in shades of blue, was a young boy, seemingly around Wei Wuxian’s age, playing the guqin with nary an expression on his face.

Something itched within Wei Wuxian and he had the urge to tease the boy into making a new sort of expression. As quiet as a mouse, he snuck close to the boy and burst out of the water, shouting, “Boo!”

As he expected, the white-clothed human became startled and nearly jumped in shock. Wei Wuxian cackled until he came face with a sword. He held his hands up in surrender even as his heart beat fast.

“Who are you?” The boy demanded.

Wei Wuxian lifted his head from the sword to come face to face with the most beautiful boy he had ever seen. The boy in front of him had the most entrancing pair of golden eyes. The boy narrowed his eyes and repeated his question, though the sword at his neck faltered a little.

Wei Wuxian took the opportunity to swim a little farther from the boy and pouted. “Gege, I just wanted to surprise you! You looked so serious sitting by yourself! You should look happier on such a beautiful night such as this!” The boy didn’t change his expression. “Also! Isn’t it rude to point your sword at a stranger?” 

“You do not know who I am?”

He’s probably some noble considering not many people own swords, but him specifically? “Nope! Should I know who you are?” He’s probably new or something. I haven’t seen him around before and nobles don’t usually come around these parts. ....Hmm, perhaps he’s here to see the prince?

The boy seemed to relax a little and put away his sword. “.....I apologize for pointing my sword at you. I was....unsure if you meant ill.”

“Why would I voluntarily bring harm to a stranger?”

“...” The human turned away and turned to his guqin, checking for damage.

“Hey, hey! Beautiful human with gold eyes! Don’t ignore meeee! Look at me, look at me!!”

The human merely sighed in exasperation.

Wei Wuxian’s pout became more pronounced and his tail splashed in irritation. The human’s eyes went wide with curiosity and shock and Wei Wuxian realized his mistake. “..Uhh....”

“A jiaoren?”

“Yeah! Do you have a problem with that?” Wei Wuxian said, guarded.

“No. I have never seen one before.”

“I see.” 

The atmosphere became awkward with the ensuing silence but Wei Wuxian could never stay quiet for long.

“So what brings you around these parts? I’ve never seen you before!”

“......I came with the prince’s entourage.” There was something odd in his tone.

“I see. You know, I’ve never seen the prince before. Is he as beautiful as the rumors suggest?”

“Vanity is against the rules.”

“Whose rules?”

“The palace’s.”

“Hmph. Well, this isn’t the palace. it’s fine to say something, hm?”

“....Gossiping is against the rules. Talking behind someone’s back is forbidden.”

Wei Wuxian threw his hands up. “Well, if I can’t talk about the prince, then tell me about you! That’s not against the rules, isn’t it?”

“........”

“A name! At least tell me your name! Mine’s Wei Wuxian, but Gege can call me Wei Ying since we’re already so close!”

“Shameless!” The boy hissed, ears red. 

“Oh come on!! I told you my name, it’s only fair that you tell me yours! Don’t be rude, Gege!”

“.....Zhan.”

“Hm?”

“Lan Zhan.” He repeated.

“Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian murmured and Lan Zhan nodded. Hmm. It’s a birth name, not a courtesy name. Is he trying to hide his identity? He’s not doing a very good job though, considering ‘Lan’ is the name of the royal family. Perhaps he’s a relative of the prince’s? I wouldn’t expect a prince to be out here by himself without guards so he must be a guard or something. Hmm. It’s something to think about later. It doesn’t seem like he means harm even after knowing what I am. Regardless, it’s not like he could follow me back to my home even if he did mean ill. Humans can’t hold their breath for that long. “Well, Lan Zhan, now that we know each other’s names, you’re now my friend!”

“........We do not know each other.”

“That’s what we’re talking for, silly! We’re getting to know each other, right?”

“Hm.” Lan Zhan packed his guqin away. “I must go. It is late.”

“Late? We’ve hardly talked though! Don’t leave me here, Lan-gege!” Wei Wuxian whined.

“Not.....Not.....gege.”

“Hm?”

“I have an older brother.”

“Hm? Oh.....oh! Okay, I understand! Lan-er-gege!”

Lan Zhan looked away, gripping his sword. “I will come back tomorrow night.”

“Huh?” Then he connected the dots. “Oh! Okay! See you later, Er-gege!”

Lan Zhan nodded and left. It was only when he couldn’t see him anymore did Wei Wuxian realize he could have just asked where Lan Zhan lived. If it was close to the water, he could just swim to him. That might put him close to the prince and other people from the palace which wasn’t a very comforting thought. He still didn’t know whether to trust the Gusu royals, despite possibly conversing with one.

.......................

The next few nights passed by in a similar fashion, with Wei Wuxian trying to get Lan Zhan’s attention and Lan Zhan hardly giving the jiaoren an inch.

Wei Wuxian, however, saw this as a challenge and began to do many things to get Lan Zhan’s attention. The most effective one was splashing him, though it earned him a glare as well as Lan Zhan predicting it and being able to dodge more often than not.

He moved onto trying to impress Lan Zhan by performing difficult acrobatic tricks. Lan Zhan looked amazed at this and Wei Wuxian was extremely smug, quickly turning an embarrassed red when Lan Zhan praised him, with a, “Beautiful.”

Wei Wuxian wailed, hiding his face in his hands, “Lan-er-gege, you can’t just say that!”

“Why?”

“It’s too embarrassing!!”

“Wei Ying calls me beautiful all the time.” Lan Zhan deadpanned.

Wei Wuxian peeked at him from in between his fingers, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” He demanded. “You can’t just tease me like this! Where did the Lan Zhan who got so easily flustered go?” 

Lan Zhan said nothing, but Wei Wuxian could see the faint upturn of his lips that made his overall expression smug.

And Wei Wuxian didn’t know why, but it made his heart beat faster/

.......

It escalated. Because of course it did. Wei Wuxian wanted to hear Lan Zhan praise him again and see that faint smile again - no matter if it was smug or not.

He wore his best jiaoxiao silks - ones he personally weaved -, danced, and....and even sang to him. Lan Zhan even joined him sometimes, playing on the guqin.

He returned every night, sighing into his parents’ embrace about his Lan Zhan and his parents shot him increasingly knowing looks until they laid down the truth. 

“You’re courting him, aren’t you, A’ Ying?” His father asked.

“C-Court?”

“Yes, A’ Ying.” His mother patiently said. “You wore the most beautiful jiaoxiao silks you weaved, danced a well-known courting dance, and even sang for him. If you aren’t courting him, if you aren’t in love with him, then I call bullshit.”

Wei Wuxian clutched his burning cheeks. “Courting?” Am I really courting Lan Zhan? I mean.....I like it when he praises me and calls me beautiful and plays his guqin for me and even plays an accompaniment when I sing!

......Oh god. Oh heavens! I really am courting him!!! How could I not notice???!!!! Ahhhh!!!!

.......................

The nature of Wei Ying’s gifts and music changed, Lan Wangji noted absently. 

When Lan Wangji first met Wei Ying, he was unsure of what to think but was quickly captivated by his smile and intelligence. It made Lan Wangji reluctant to return to the palace. Or maybe even bring Wei Ying with him.

He shook that thought away quickly. He couldn’t just take Wei Ying away from his family!

Back to the point, Lan Wangji noticed the shy looks Wei Ying shot him from time to time and how his songs gained a sort of.....longing��tone. The gifts too......they were pearl bracelets and hairpins that had to be made from Wei Ying’s tears. Lan Wangji may be shy but he was not oblivious to what it meant to receive a jiaoren’s personally made songs and pearls. 

Perhaps.....Wei Ying might share his feelings after all?

That thought made his heart beat faster. If he remembered correctly, jiaoren court through songs. And Lan Wangji had the perfect one in mind.

.....................

Lan Zhan had to leave today. He had to leave!!

Wei Wuxian wanted to cry, somehow. He hadn’t finished courting Lan Zhan! 

Fortunately, Lan Zhan seemed reluctant to leave too. “I can ask my brother to send me here soon.”

“Really? Really, Lan Zhan?”

“Mn.”

Wei Wuxian’s tail propelled him out of the water and forward so that he could wrap Lan Zhan into a hug. “I knew you liked me! Oh! Uh-- I mean--!”

Lan Zhan’s arms came around him. “Mn. Like Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian squealed happily. Lan Zhan liked him back!! He pulled back to give Lan Zhan a bright smile which, surprisingly, was returned!!

Wei Wuxian’s tail swished happily, “Keep smiling, Lan-er-gege! It’s really pretty!!”

Lan Zhan huffed out a laugh and Wei Wuxian grinned. 

.

.

“Wei Ying, there is something I must tell you.”

“Hm? What is it?”

Lan Zhan hesitated and Wei Wuxian sat up, sensing it was serious. 

“What is it?”

“Wei Ying, I have not been entirely honest with you. My name is Lan Zhan....... courtesy name: Wangji.”

Wei Wuxian took a moment to let that sink in. Where had he heard that courtesy name before?

“Hey, Mom.” Wei Wuxian asked as they crossed the border between Lanling and Gusu. “The Gusu royals. Are they good people?”

His mother nodded. “I was acquainted with the current king’s uncle until we had a.....” She winces. “A fight. They are good people, regardless of our past differences. The current king, Lan Xichen, and his little brother, Lan Wangji, have implemented a law that ensures the safety of creatures like us.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” 

“You’re the second prince?!” Wei Wuxian gasped, dramatically flopping into the water. The prince?! He was courting the actual prince of Gusu???!!!

“Mn.” Lan Zhan confirmed as soon as he surfaced, shoulders tense.

“Well, shit. I didn’t know, but it’s not like you’re going to punish me for my rather shameless behavior, right? I know humans have different customs for courting.”

“Mn.”

“Okay! Now that that’s out of the way, Lan Zhan - I can still call you Lan Zhan, right?” Lan Zhan nodded. “Then, Lan Zhan, now that I know you’re the prince, I know you must have a lot of business and I can’t push you to come here often. But do try to visit, okay? I’ll miss you a lot!”

“Mn. Will miss Wei Ying too.”

__________________________

Then, a few years down the line, the two of them get together because this is a happy universe and they know how to communicate!

[villainousshakespeare]

Bobby’s Playdate Part 2

Part 1

The pandemic is keeping Tom idling in London by himself. One positive is that wearing the mask helps him avoid recognition, allowing him to wander in the park with his dog, Bobby. On one of their walks, Bobby becomes smitten with a dog named Lulu and Tom is equally enchanted by her human. Can the Hiddleston men manage to find a way to see the lovely ladies again?

Tom Hiddleston/OFC

Chapter 2 of4

Rated M - Pandemic, Fluff, Quarantine, Masks, Adorable Puppies, Meet Cute, Second Part May (will) Contain Smut

@yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @hopelessromanticspoonie @wine-and-whines @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen @devilish–doll @enchantedbyhiddles @hiddlesholic @i-do-not-fangirl-i-fanwoman @kellatron55 @ladyoftheteaandblood @latent-thoughts @gorgeous1974 @maryxglz @myoxisbroken @nuggsmum @nildespirandum @pedeka @redfoxwritesstuff @sinfully-lustful-darling @vodka-and-some-sass @wrathkitty @kingtwhiddleston @wolfsmom1 @poetic-fiasco @shiningloki @dangertoozmanykids101 @bookworm-christina @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy @amwolowicz @delightfulheartdream @frostbitten-written @what-a-flammable-heart @tom-hlover @nonsensicalobsessions @myraiswack @loki-yoursaviourishere, from-hel-i-with-love, @sweetsigyn, @fictiondoesitbetter, @ms-cellanies @evieplease @viviennes-tears @turniptitaness @cynic-spirit @spooky1980 @ghostypau @viviennes-tears @lady-loki-ren

I am so sorry I took so long to update this! First I was distracted by a super busy week, and then I decided to rework what I had in store for it. It took a while to redo, but I have decided to make it a 4 part story. Hope you enjoy, and that the wait was worth it!

The day had started out like every other since the lock down began. Leia had slept late, having no where to go. A cold, wet kiss on her nose from Lulu woke her up when the pup could no longer wait to be let out and grumbling she had taken her out for a quick walk up and down the block. After two cups of coffee and some melon, Leia had realized that after three months of enforced solitude, both she and her dog had gotten decidedly surly. It was time to get out, even if it was only to the local park.

Lulu’s excitement when she took out the little pink and white checked dress had been enough to put a smile on Leia’s face. Really, the small dog was a ridiculous creature, but she could be such a bundle of sunshine. After they were both outfitted – Lulu in her dress and Leia in a comfy outfit and mask, they made their way to the nearby park, enjoying a leisurely stroll around the newly green paths. She wished that Lulu was not too timid to play in the dog run, but after spending a year in the shelter the poor thing was terrified of other dogs.

That was why she was so surprised when Lulu’s tale began to wag excitedly. Normally she would have been cowering and whimpering in fear at the sound of another dog approaching, but for once her reaction was completely different. She jumped up from where she had been snuggling on Leia’s lap and perked up her ears, tongue lolling out happily. When the chocolate spaniel came trotting around the bend, she even jumped of Leia and strained at the leash to meet him.

Keeping a tight hold on Lulu’s leash, Leia let her eyes travel up the lead attached to the strange dog. It was quite a long trip, as it happened, past a pair of long legs in torn jogging pants, a faded shirt that would once have been bright blue, and a plain black mask until she got to a set of smiling blue eyes that made her heart stop.

“I’m sorry,” the man said, “I promise he is completely friendly.”

She had known who he was instantly, of course. No face mask could disguise those cheek bones, the copper curls that brushed his collar, or the baby blues that had sent a million fan girls swooning. If she had had any doubts, one word from that sinful voice, a verbal caress of polite friendliness, would have stamped it out. She had seen almost all of his movies, after all, and quite a number of his promotional appearances as well.

“It’s okay, so is she,” she replied struggling to keep her voice normal and grateful for the mask that hid her stunned initial gape. “You know, she’s usually quite shy, but she seems to like him! May I pet him?”

And then Tom Hiddleston –  The Tom Hiddleston! – had sat down on the bench next to her while she petted Bobby and struck up a casual conversation! She had kept her eyes on the pups at first, afraid that if she looked at him, he would see the excitement and intimidation in her eyes. He introduced himself, needlessly, of course, and she gave him her name in a kind of daze. She realized that he had only provided his first name and had the quick flash of insight that he might be enjoying the idea of anonymity. If that were the case, she would not want to spoil it for him by gushing. Uncertain of what to do, she let the obvious joke about her name lead her to mentioning Marvel characters. That way, she decided, he would have a segue to talking about his career should he want to. When he let it slide and quickly changed the subject, she decided that her assumption must have been correct.

Which was absolutely fine with her! She was sitting and talking to Tom Hiddleston! While she would, of course, love to pick his brain about Loki, or Shakespeare, or any of a dozen projects, she was more than happy to listen to him discuss his dog in that proud pappa voice. By the time she had told him the story behind Lulu’s dress excitement she was reasonably settled and could actually manage to look him in the eye without blushing.

She had met a few famous people in her time as a London tour guide, and many of them had been a colossal let down. Tom was not one of them. He was everything she had ever imagined or hoped he would be. Kind, funny, clever, a little prone to talk on about any subject he happened on, but in all a delightful conversation partner. She was disappointed but not surprised when he had to leave, but she didn’t want to be too greedy; it was already one of the most magical afternoons of his life. When he mentioned running into them again, she almost squealed with excitement, just barely managing to keep her face impassive.

Thus began a fairy tale of month for Leia and Lulu. After two days of rain, during which she was certain he would forget all about her, they had found the boys again at the same spot. Leia half wondered if she were simply dreaming, but if so, she had no desire to wake up. They met up with Tom and Bobby most days, walking for hours sometimes as they discussed London, their childhoods, school. She learned quickly that he changed the subject instinctively whenever anything came up that might lead to his career. She could respect that. It must be hard, she thought, being always in the public eye. For her own part, Leia tacitly decided to keep the subject of her book a secret. After all, a fantasy story based on Norse Mythology, with Loki playing a leading role, was bound to bring up the sort of conversation he obviously wished to avoid.

As time went on, she began to forget he was a movie star and just think of him as her friend, insane as that struck her when she stopped to look at it. Oh, she was still absurdly attracted to him, but it was no longer for his stunning character portrayals or teasing banter with interviewers. No, the teasing banter she was interested in now was much more personal for her. He was delightful company, unfailingly polite, quick with a wickedly funny comment or a profound musing on life. In short, Leia was well and truly smitten. Hopelessly, she thought with a sigh.

When he invited her to his home, she could barely believe it. A casual acquaintance in the park was one thing, a dinner chez Hiddleston was completely different. She knew it was in large part for the sake of the puppies, and that was fine. Lulu was as besotted with Bobby as Leia was with Tom, only in this case it was obviously mutual. Leia would just have to be careful to guard her heart. She was not a part of his real life, and she needed to remember that, even if they never discussed it.

***

Bobby started barking seconds before the buzzer rang, his tail wagging back and forth at a frantic pace. Tom, scarcely less excited, gave a quick glance in the mirror before slipping on his mask and opening the door.

Leia stood on his doorstep looking even more lovely than usual. Her simple leggings and long tee had been replaced by a pretty, floral sundress in shades of red and yellow and her hair, usually tied up or back, was long and curling about her shoulders. Tom swallowed and tried to keep his eyes from doing too obvious an up and down of her body. It was difficult, considering the shape of her legs and amount of them showing. Lulu’s yip drew his eyes down to her, and he saw that she was dressed in a purple polka dotted number for the evening, her hair sporting several sparkly clips to keep her braids from coming undone.

“Hi, welcome!” he greeted them, straining to keep Bobby from leaping out the door. “Won’t you come in?”

“Thanks,” she smiled with her eyes as he ushered her inside.

“You found the place alright?”

“Your directions were perfect,” she assured him, glancing around at his newly bare entryway. “It’s quite the posh street you live on! I don’t think I’ve ever been into one of these houses.”

“Oh, it’s just like any other home,” he said modestly, feeling stupid as he did. His house had an electronic gate (that he had left unlocked for her) and a private surveillance system. He knew it was not the usual home. “I can give you a tour later if you like.”

“I’d love that. Whatever you have cooking smells delicious!”

“Thanks. I’ll have to check on it in a bit. For now, though, why don’t we go out back? I have some drinks chilling.”

He gestured for her to proceed him and subtly steered her past the kitchen and living room and out the sliding glass doors into the back. The yard was pretty, a nice square plot with flowers growing along the fence on three sides and one large tree giving shade. A table with four chairs and a grill stood on a little stone area, and Tom had set it up with a selection of glasses for beer, wine, and mixed drinks. A pitcher of iced water stood next to a bottle of dry rose in an ice bucket, and another small bucket contained iced beers.

“Here you go, Bobby,” he unleashed the spaniel who instantly tore off around the yard, looking for his favorite toy. “Why don’t you two have a nice frolic.”

“Oh Lulu, this will be fun!” Leia cooed to her pup, also removing her dog’s leash.

As the little dog scampered off after Bobby, Tom took a deep breath and turned to her owner. Now was the moment he had been waiting for.

“I suppose since we are alone and outside and all… as long as we stay six feet apart… would you mind?” he gestured towards his mask.

“Not at all. Oh, and I got my negative test results back. I have a copy on my phone if you want to see them!” she offered.

“No need, I trust you,” he was quick to assure her. “I got mine as well.”

It was strange – until a few months ago he would have felt tremendously awkward wearing a mask around another person. Even when he had needed to wear one for a few scenes in Only Lovers Left Alive it had seemed tremendously cumbersome and rather silly. Now though, Tom realized that he could not remember the last time he had been around another person without one. There was something shockingly intimate in the act of taking it off in front of Leia, and he found himself feeling almost shy. Blushing a bit, he unhooked the straps from around his ears and took the fabric from in front of his mouth, setting it on one of the chairs.

His eyes fastened on her as she reached up to do the same, the red mask peeling away to reveal a small bow of a mouth, pink lips curved in a slight smile. Her chin was slightly pointed and had a cute little half dimple to one side. Smile lines were just barely visible and added to the appeal of her face. It was a very kissable mouth, he decided.

“Hi,” he said, rather fatuously, face breaking into a sheepish grin. “I’m Tom.”

“Hi Tom,” she smiled back, and his heart skipped a beat. “I’m Leia.”

They stood there for a moment, staring at each other, until he cleared his throat and pointed to a chair.

“Please, have a seat,” he managed to say. “As you see, I have wine, beer, water, or I could make you a cocktail if you’d rather. Or lemonade if you prefer a soft drink…” he realized he was babbling and cut himself off.

“Wine would be nice,” she said, sitting down and crossing one long leg over the other, giving him a lovely glimpse of her thigh.

“Right, wine it is,” he said, uncorking the bottle and grabbing a glass. “I hope it’s alright. My sister loves this brand, she brought it when she was here last, and it is better than anything I would have known to get.”

“Not a wine guy?” she asked, accepting the glass from him.

“Oh, I like a good hearty red with a steak now and then, and I will definitely have some with dinner tonight – I hope you like Italian, by the way – but for casual drinking, I’m more of a beer or scotch fan myself.”

While he prattled on Tom opened up one of the beers and poured it into a pint glass. When the foam had gone down a bit, he raised the glass and tilted it towards her.

“To deepening new friendships,” he dared to say, eyes finding hers.

They clinked their glasses, and he took a long sip of the hoppy beverage, hoping he hadn’t over stepped.

“To embracing human interaction!” she added. “Selectively, of course.”

Well, she obviously didn’t recognize him. That was a relief. He had been half worried that she would shriek, or become tongue tied, or worse. It was remarkable to him how many women seemed to have extreme reactions to meeting him. He was so ordinary! Just an overgrown ginger kid from Wimbledon. It wasn’t like they were meet Daniel Day Lewis for god’s sake. On the other hand, he couldn’t help feeling the tiniest twinge of disappointment. He worked hard at his job, after all, and was proud of the reputation he had developed and of the work he had done. It was strange, with how up on everything Leia always seemed, that she didn’t have any knowledge of Marvel at least, or The Night Manager. Still, some people didn’t watch a lot of movies and TV, or if they did it was more intellectual fare.

They both leaned back in their chairs and watched the dogs play chase back and forth. Tom found his eyes drifting back to her, staring at her mouth. He had never realized just how much a person’s mouth said about them. Leia’s smiled as a default, giving her a more youthful look than she had when it was covered. There was something fresh and approachable about her that he was drawn to.

The conversation was light and easy. Neither of them had been doing much of anything lately, so they resorted to telling older stories from their childhoods. Tom was amused to think of Leia playing with her friends, insisting that no, she wanted to be Han Solo despite what her thoughtless parents had named her. Tom, of course, had wanted to play all of the characters, and delighted her with his spot-on Darth Vadar and Grand Moff Tarkin impressions.

“You were a terror, weren’t you?” she laughed as he described bossing his sister about the correct way to make the light saber noises.

“A bit, yeah,” he admitted. “Emma and Sarah would probably say more than a bit. They had it coming though.”

“I’m sure they would agree with that, too,” she said sarcastically.

“It’s not my fault they couldn’t take direction,” he grinned. “I’m sure you would have made an excellent Han Solo. With the proper lessons.”

“Perhaps you can make me your student after dinner, if we have enough wine,” she suggested.

He knew she meant it innocently enough, but he felt a blush creep up his cheeks at the image her words planted in his mind. Leia in a schoolgirl outfit, bent over his desk flashing through his brain was enough to make him reach for his beer and gulp down more than was advisable. She seemed to realize after a moment, as she too reached for her glass and took a long swallow.

Lulu chose that moment to break away from where they had been digging around the tree and came running over to them, something grimy hanging from her mouth.

“What have you got there, peanut?” Leia sked, sounding a bit relieved.

“She seems to have unearthed one of Bobby’s treasures,” Tom smiled, glad of the distraction himself.

“Here, princess, you want me to throw it for you?”

Leia held out her hand and she happily dropped the toy into it. Tom looked at the toy and felt his jaw go slack and his eyes frantic. It was Loki. Of course it was. One of Bobby’s favorite toys, naturally, given to him during the lead up to one of the movies, the thick ropes of green and gold formed a long God of Mischief chew toy/tug of war combo, complete with horns. Tom licked his lips, glancing quickly at Leia, only to see that she was smiling down at her fluffy pup.

“Oh, Lulu, Look! It’s just like yours, only a bit more loved,” she said with a laugh. “Good girl, saving the handsome prince from a shallow grave. Loki never stays dead for long!”

With another laugh she took the toy and threw it across the yard, Lulu and Bobby both quickly scampering off after it. Tom gaped at her, uncertain what to say.

“You must have a lot of those,” she commented off handedly.

“You… you know?” he stammered.

“Know what?”

“Who I am?” it sounded stupid and conceited to his own ears.

“Well, I hope so since I’m in your home.”

“No, I mean you know what I do for a living,” he ground out, feeling like an utter ass.

“Of course,” she told him, quirking her lips.

“Since when?” he choked out.

“Since the first day. You’re not exactly easy to mistake, Tom.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You didn’t seem to want to talk about it. I figured it must get old, people falling all over themselves around you, treating you like you’re not even human.”

“Yeah. Yeah it does.”

“So I took my cue from you.”

“I see,” he was completely flummoxed. “And you have a Loki toy? For Lulu, I mean?”

“Of course, he’s our favorite! Poor, misunderstood boy. You know, I am glad I have the opportunity to tell you now how good you are. And not just as Loki. You were breath taking in Betrayal.”

“You saw Betrayal?”

“Twice. Stunning work.”

He knew his mouth was opening and closing stupidly, but he couldn’t seem to stop it. She had known, all this time. She had been humoring him by not talking about it. He was not entirely sure how to feel about that.

“Tom is everything alright?” she asked, sounding concerned.

“Was that why you talked to me?” he heard himself asking. “Why you agreed to come over? Because I am famous?”

“No,” she said slowly. “I came over because you asked, and because I like you. Yes, I was a bit star struck at first, but I got past it. Are you angry? I just assumed you realized.”

“No. No, I didn’t. I… I should go check on dinner.”

“Tom, really, are you okay?”

“Yeah, absolutely. Be right back.”

Turning tail, he fled into the house, mind in complete turmoil at the new turn of events.

[honeypirate]

In Madness lies Sanity

Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader - College AU

Based off the bit by Allan Watts. I read the transcript and I thought— Ushijima in love with his best friend listening to this talk about love in one of his classes and realizing that he needs to tell them the truth. Allan watts bit is in blue, the fic is in white.

Ushijima wasn’t one to dwell too long on trivial matters. He works through them and then forgets them. He focuses on what is important and what will bring him closer to his desired future. He isn’t one who is sucked into madness and drama, he has a strong level head and it’s something he takes pride in. So he’s trying to apply his ideas to how he handles his feelings for you, is it trivial? Is it important to tell you? He was struggling before he walked into class Monday morning and had his eyes opened by the video played during lecture.

- I’m going to talk to you about a particularly virulent and dangerous form of divine madness which is called falling in love. Which is, from a practical point of view, one of the most insane things you can do, or that can happen to you. Because in the eyes of a given woman or a given man, an opposite who go to the eyes of everybody else a perfectly plain and ordinary person can appear to be God or Goddess incarnate .... And this is an extraordinary disruptive experience a subversive experience in the conduct of human affairs

You were never a plain and ordinary person to him and he believes that’s where it got confused. He always has and always will see you as an extraordinary individual, regardless of things that may be seen as flaws or imperfections, regardless of your mistakes. You didn’t transform from one thing to the next, you were the same angel he knew, so when his heart flipped from friendship to love, he wasn’t paying attention.

- Because you never know when it will strike off for what reason. It’s something like contracting a very chronic disease once you get into it

If anyone asked Ushijima who his best friend is his first thought is you. His first thought thought is always you. His constant. His true best friend who is there for him through anything. He’ll open his mouth and say “y/n is my best friend” and when people would point out just how close they are he just shrugged, weren’t friends supposed to be close?

When he thinks back now, now that his feelings are obvious, he realizes that it was just a matter of time until he fell in love with you. He can pinpoint every moment along his life where love was obvious, every joke and hug that at the time he thought was just nice, when he loaned you his sweatshirt and then didn’t wash it because it smelled like you. When he would spend all his valuable and limited free time with you just because he liked the way you would smile as he walked you home. He thinks back to all of his dates in high school and college, of the dating app conversations he’s had or blind dates his friends had set up, and they all failed because of one simple reason- none of them were you.

- I would like to make some reflections on this particular form of madness, and to raise again a very disturbing question. And this disturbing question is as follows: Is it only when you are in love with another person that you see them as they really are? And in the ordinary way, when you are not in love with people you see only a fragmented version of that being.

He’s spent hours turned to days to weeks as he keeps thinking about whether or not he loves you or if he just thinks he could because of how close you already are. He’s lost track of time connecting different dots and making different lists and theories, replaying you’re entire friendship back in his head. He’s thought about the times he saw you drunk in college and puking on his shoes as he helps you home, when you decided you wanted to try and longboard and turfed it so bad your arm was gashed from wrist to elbow and he had carried you to the urgent care. all your reckless and crazy ideas you dragged him along with, you were almost as bad as tendou but he just wanted to take care of you as best as he could. He can feel the desire in his bones to make sure you were always taken care of, a feeling he knows he’ll have until he dies.

He thinks about when you had dated Oikawa and for the entire three months he had an ulcer but didn’t know why. He thought it was because of his pain relievers and quit them the week you broke up with him, not realizing the connection. When he’d get acid in his throat when you talked about dating someone else, he thought he just needed some milk. How blind he had been.

-Because when you are in love with someone you do indeed see them as a divine being. And suppose that’s what they are truly. And your eyes have by your beloved been opened in which case your beloved is serving to you as a kind of guru. An initiator. And that is why there is a form of sexual yoga, based on the idea that man and woman are to each other as mutual guru and student. And through a tremendous outpouring of psychic energy in total devotion and worship to this other person who is respectively the goddess of the god.

Being someone’s best and closest friend consisted of seeing their entirety and choosing to stay and love them anyway. To care for them. He can’t say for certain where he crossed over into love, into wanting to hug you and kiss you, wanting to be the only one you think about, but there’s not much he can do about it now and he doesn’t want to.

Ushijima sees you. He sees your good and your bad and everything in between, he sees you for you. Your ordinary mundane ways of life that he can’t help but want to share with you. Grocery shopping, library trips, post office runs, he wants them all to be done with you. He truly cannot imagine anyone else taking that spot in his heart.

Wanting to show you what he sees. What he knows to be true about you. he wants to scream from the rooftops how amazing you are and he’s not a very loud person. He sees the way you care for your friends selflessly and give and give all you have just so that others can be happy and you never complain. You do what you can when you can and still have time to take care of yourself he never knew how you did it so effortlessly, even when you’d vent to him you never regretted helping others.

He sees the way you lift up those around you. How you leave everyone a little more positive than before you talked to them. He doesn’t know how you do it. He’s convinced you’re an angel and he’s dying to show you just how amazing he knows you are. But he doesn’t want to ruin your friendship. He sees your entirety, your full book instead of just the cover, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He wanted to give you this energy and receive it in turn and he’s never been so absolutely terrified.

-You realize by total fusion and contact with the other organism. You go down to the divine center in them and it bounces back and you discover your own or you could put it in this way which is another aspect of it that by falling in love and regarding falling in love not just as a sort of sexual infatuation, because it’s always more than that, isn’t it. I mean you can have a great sexual enjoyment with a pleasant friend, you know. But you may do so simply because he or she appeals to your aesthetic senses. But when you fall in love, it’s a much more serious involvement, you just cannot forget this person. You feel miserable when not in their presence, you’re always yearning, that’s get to see more of each other let’s get together that’s we’re completely entangled and then you see you’ve actually kind of out what I would call spiritual element has been introduced. And the Hindus were sensible enough to realize that this was a means of awakening, enlightenment, and therefore it was. Surrounded. With a sort of rigid religious ritual meditative art, with a form of sexual yoga that is designed to allow the feeling of mutual love to the extent of grand passion to have an extremely fitting fulfillment and expression.

Ushijima has always thought you were beautiful. Any human with eyes would think that. But your beauty and attraction went far deeper than that. Sure he’s had fleeting thoughts about how good you looked in a dress but he never let them linger. It felt wrong to think of you like that. But now that he’s an adult, a grown man and not a teenager anymore, he wants to kiss you, to hold your hand, maybe more but it wasn’t about that. It was about the intimacy, the closeness, the vulnerability.

Awakening. Enlightenment. Two words that before he didn’t really think about. But now he feels changed. Now that he’s realized how much he loves you has lifted his spirits, made him dream of the passion and happiness you could have together. He feels himself slipping into the joy of being in love with his best friend and imagining all the ways that love could grow. He feels only half of himself when he’s without you, always needing to see you or be around you, but you never made him feel clingy or bad. You met him in kind, telling him how much you wanted to be around him too.

At first he thought that this love was a trivial thing, something he could push from his mind, but after his weeks of thought he knows this is a lot more serious than he’s experienced before.

-Falling in love is a thing that strikes like lightning and is therefore extremely analogous to the mystical vision. We don’t know. No how really people attain the mystical vision. There is not as yet a very clear rationale as to how it happens because we do know that it is opened to many people who never did anything to look for it. And many people especially in adolescence have had the mystical vision all of a sudden without the slightest warning and with no previous interest in that kind of thing

He remembers what he was doing when it dawned on him that he was in love, when he felt the air leave his lungs and his eyes widen softly when he realized how nice it would be to kiss your temple and he couldn’t even finish the thought as the feeling ran from his head to his toes.

He was standing in your kitchen as you finished making your lunch for the following day and you made a joke that made yourself laugh, he didn’t think it was a very funny joke but you didn’t care. You giggled to yourself and he couldn’t help but wish he could witness that forever. It hit him like a brick that he would, in almost an instant, give his entirety to you. It terrified him when he imagines you and him ending like his parents. But behind the terror, the fear of divorce, was a softer and quieter emotion that he tried to focus on harder than the insanity of his anxiety. A softer, lovelier, hopeful feeling that he usually gets every time you smile at him. That was the feeling he was searching for, everything else was irrelevant for a few glorious moments.

-But as yet we are not clear as to why it comes about and if there is any method of attaining it the best one is probably to give up the whole idea of getting it…. you see it is completely unpredictable and so it is in that way like falling in love, capricious and therefore crazy. But if you should be so fortunate as to encounter either of these experiences. It seems to me to be a total denial of life to refuse it. And what we therefore have to. Admit in our society is so that we can contain this kind of madness.

He called Tendou that evening, telling him that he thinks he loves you, and Tendou about had a conniption. He was in Paris as his best friend fell in love for the first time. He talked him through it, told him how good it can be. That yes it was going to be work but the reward would be worth it. To not sell himself short out of his own fears. He deserves much more than that. Tendou’s last phrase is what sunk in deep “I know it was unpredictable, that it feels so fickle, but that’s what love is like buddy! You can’t deny it Ushi, you can’t run from it or hide from it, it will only hurt you in the long run”

- You see, in this way we can think about and structure the necessary stable social institution of family sometime without it being constantly threatened of foundering on the rocks of love. Now you see this then means that when when people marry they take any vows at all to each other instead of saying that they will always be true to each other in the sense of meaning I Will Always Love YoU, It means I will be true to you in the sense of I will always be truthful to. I will not pretend that my feelings towards you ARE other than what they are. Because I marry you, because I think that you are a reasonable person to live with and therefore I want you to be you I want you to be someone else I want to be a rubber stamp of me–how boring that would be?! an arrangement in which people set each other free and make an alliance to cooperate with each other in certain ways. Now if it should so occur that they are of immense sexual attraction to each other, so much the better? That this should not be a primary factor in entering into marriage. Admittedly, you must be to a certain extent attractive to each other otherwise there will be no progeny. But this is this is seems to me to be a sensible and reasonable view and just because it is sensible and reasonable it can accommodate what is not sensible and reasonable which is falling in love.

Ushijima is terrified. He’s terrified because the instant immediate joy he felt when he realized he loved you was almost overtaken by worries and stress. He loves you! Now what? He loves structure in his life and he values stability but he knows how rocky relationships can be and how they can ultimately end. He knows he won’t deny it, he won’t back away because of his fear but he needs a plan. A plan to take to you and talk about it, he knows you’ll have the right thing to say but he doesn’t even know what he’ll even say to you yet. He loves that you are so carefree and goofy, a breath of fresh air to his stoicism. You’ve even gently worked your way so deep into his soul that you feel like his other half, his complete other in every way, someone who wasn’t like him at all and how wonderful that is.

Once in his life he thought that arranged marriages were smarter, you did it out of logic and bloodline and family, nothing messy to deal with. But that structure, that boring empty rocky foundation that an arrangement might bring made his mouth taste bad, although at the time he convinced himself it was because it would be more like another job that takes up his time (away from you)

Sensible and reasonable was right up his alley, he thought how nice it would be to have a mini him but he couldn’t think about having that with anyone. He couldn’t think of another half of dna that baby would share that would make it worth it. Not until he saw a picture of you holding your nephew, now whenever he thinks of his babies they share your genes. He thinks of a chunky baby with your eyes and his hair color, a mix of your personality and he’d share volleyball with them. He’s never wanted kids as much as he does when he thinks about sharing them with you. And that’s the part that feels senseless, the love part, the part where you give your entirety to someone and trust that they will care and keep you, no matter what happens, save its not infidelity or other deal breakers of yours he already knows.

Ushijima’s theorizing and thoughts about you over the course of time went from being about understanding why he feels like this to imagining fake scenarios where he wants to take you abroad to travel together, to be together every day and share the hard times and good times, babies or not, marriage or not. He just wants to make you happy for the rest of his life no matter what and he can’t go on much longer without knowing he has a chance to do so

- Well now really when we go back then to falling in love. And say it’s crazy falling. You see we don’t say rising into love. There is in it the idea of the fall. And it is goes back as a matter of fact two extremely fundamental things that there is always a curious tie at some point between the fall and the creation. Taking this ghastly risk, is the condition of there being life. You see, for all life is an act of faith and an act of gamble

And so here he was. Sitting on a bench outside of your dorm, feet bouncing as he stared at the small patch of grass growing in between the sidewalk crack. It’s been a while since that class and he’s been thinking about this constantly.

He knows the risk, feels it in his heart every time he meets up separately with his parents since their divorce. He sees it every time he remembers his childhood and the messy separation. That mess he never wants to repeat. The fall that comes with this love is like that class video had told him, ghastly. He doesn’t know if this could ruin it all, if he takes the leap of faith and it all comes crumbling down years later he’ll be just another divorce. He doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want to end up like his parents and have a child who feels the same. But when he imagines his life he doesn’t think he could be haply without you by his side.

- the moment you take a step, you do so on an act of faith, because you don’t really know that the floors not going to give in to your feet. The moment you take a journey what an act of faith. The moment you enter into any kind of human undertaking in relationship what an act of faith you see you’ve given yourself up. But this is the most powerful thing that can be done surrender see and love is an act of surrender to another person. Total abandonment. I give myself to you. Take me, do anything you like with me. So, that’s quite mad because you see it’s letting things get out of control all sensible people keep things in control.

You know something is up the moment you open the doors and see his back on the bench. You were going to his place since he wasn’t answering his phone, you freeze at the doors at watch him for a moment as your anxiety spikes in your stomach. His shoulders are tense as he leans forward, elbows on his thighs and hands clasped together as he looks down between his bouncing feet. Before you really think about it, you follow the urge to comfort him, to talk to him and make sure it’s all okay. Your feet carry you quickly to his side and you sit down, pulling him into a side hug and wrapping your arms around him.

He gasps when you sit and as you’re wrapping your arms around him he furrows his brows and hugs you back. His heart racing As his fears take the back burner. He didn’t expect you to find him but he also didn’t know how long he’s been sitting here. He buries his face into your neck as he you hold each other in the cool spring evening.

“What’s wrong?” You ask as you hold him and feels his walls break down, his arms tighten around you

“I’m scared” he says quietly and his voice cracks

“Of what Toshi? You can always talk to me” Your fingers run through his hair softly and it soothes his nerves.

He pulls back and cups your cheeks, his eyebrows were still furrowed and his stoic expression was broken by his eyes that were swimming with worry and insecurity.

You saw everything in his eyes and you met him with your determination and steady unwavering love he finds in your eyes. God he feels so mad. So incredibly and undeniably mad and insane and like he isn’t in control. He needs to tell you. Needs the words to come out of his throat so he can calm his heart and soothe his ulcer. The anxiety felt like it was immeasurable and his breathing was starting to get faster until you placed your hands on his cheeks, smothering the bad feelings completely “it’s okay Wakatoshi, I’m right here”

Ushijima feels the exact moment his heart relaxes into the faith, the surrender into love trusting that the floor isn’t going to collapse under his feet, the moment he gives his whole self, body and soul, to the fall, and that moment was when your lips touched his for the first time. Then he let go, the madness left his body and was replaced with a calm assurance that yes, yes this was it, what he’s been waiting for, what he’s been yearning for.

- for all the cost and wisdom what is really sensible is to let go that is to commit oneself to give oneself up and that’s quite mad,

-so we come to the strange conclusion that in madness lies sanity.

[star-lemonade]

School reunion (1/3)

A.C.E Junhee x Reader

Cw: bulling, kinda angsty, Junhee is a sweet heart though

Rating: T (Series R)

Word count: 3.6 k

Summary: You hire someone to accompany you to your school reunion.

I can’t believe I’m actually doing this. The laptop sat on the kitchen table and the page in the browser was taunting you. You stared at the screen from your spot against the kitchen counter. The empty boxes waited for you to fill in your information. Should I really do this?

You sighed and filled some water into the kettle just to delay having to make a decision. The other thing on the kitchen table was not better. It was an invitation to your school reunion. The reunion was scheduled for the Saturday of the following week at your old school. School. Even the address on the paper brought a bad taste to your mouth.

“You’re so ugly, who would ever date you?”

“I dare you to kiss her.”

“Yak not even for money”

You shuddered. No, no, there is no way I will go there alone. You sat down at the table and began to fill in the form. Name, address, phone and age. On the next page they asked about the occasion or event and you typed: school reunion.

Time? about 3 hours. I won’t stay there for too long.

Gender preference? Hmm I don’t actually care. ‘Don’t care’ was not an option, so you chose ‘man preferred’ over the ‘man only’, ‘woman preferred’ and ‘woman only’ options.

Age preferences? 25-35. I can’t show up there with an 18 year old.

Your finger hovered over the enter button. The shadow of your school days was still haunting you and made your hand heavier until you finally clicked check out.

You had officially rented a plus one for your school reunion.

A day after you had filled out the form you received a message from an unknown number.

“Hello, this is Junhee. I will accompany you to your school reunion next week. Would it be okay if I asked some questions so I can prepare?”

“Hi, Junhee. What do you want to know?”

“How should I introduce myself?”

You chewed on your lip. As you typed the next message your face felt warm.

“As my boyfriend.”

It felt so sad to ask this of a total stranger and you prayed he would not judge you for it. Please don’t question this, please don’t question this.

“How long have we been together?”

I guess that is a valid question someone could ask. You thought about it for a moment. It should not be too short but also not too long. The fact that you did know much about each other would make it not believable that you are together for years.

“A few months maybe?”

He asked a few more questions like “where and how did we meet?” (“at work while getting coffee”) and you answered them with whatever struck your mind.

“Okay. I think this is enough for me. Thank you!”

You sighed. This was actually more complicated than you had anticipated. At least now it felt real as opposed to just a scam to get money from people. Three dots appeared on your screen again.

“One last thing. This is also in the terms of service, but we all must remind our customers about this: I am not a hooker and you did not book sexual favours.”

Your face burned when you read that. Surely no one had asked for that before, had they?

“Of cause not, I just don’t want to go alo-”

Before you really thought about it, you had accidently pressed ‘send’ instead of backspace. Oh no. OH NO.

“Shit.”

My escort knows how pathetic I am. ‘As if he did not know before’ another part of you interjected. Your phone vibrated again.

“It’s okay, I will do my best to keep you company :)”

You did not know what to answer and just send:

“Thank you.”

As the reunion neared you found yourself thinking about it more. A sort of dread had settled in your chest. After all these years you would finally face your bullies. The people who had belittled you for not been pretty enough and made you believe that you could never find anyone who loved you. The worst thing was it seemed that they were right. You were single and you even had to hire someone… no. No, you would not let them get to you. The past years had been the happiest you had ever been. You had friends, even if they were not many, and you did well at your job. There was nothing not to be proud of. Even if you were single now, that did not mean you were unlovable. It just meant that you had not met a person that fit. You would walk in there, head held high and show those petty bitches you were not afraid of them anymore.

Your mood oscillated between confident and anxious for the whole week. You did not want to give them the satisfaction of knowing you were still so affected by them, that their mere presence could make you stay away. No, you had to go. Like this you killed the time to the day of the reunion.

You had rented a dress from a rental service. It was not too fancy but you simply did not own that many dresses and the ones you had did not seem appropriate. Someone on the organizing committee had decided that nice dresses and suits were what they wanted to see. You had messaged Junhee to wear something appropriate for that dress code.

“In a few hours it’s over.”

Your mirror image was not convinced by this but it was all you could do now. Backing out last minute would make you look bad, even if you really wanted to. All of this seemed like a bad idea. What if they found out that you had hired someone to play your boyfriend? You would be the laughing stock of the whole school and this after you had not been in school for years. For a moment you considered just taking off the dress, putting on some sweaters and sitting down on the couch. Your phone made a noise. A new message had arrived.

“At 5 pm at the station, right?”

Junhee.

“Yes. See you there.”

As if it was mocking you, the sun shone from a bright blue sky. The people on the street smiled more than you had seen in some time. On the other hand it was maybe your imagination. Now that you were walking to what could be the worst night of your recent history, everyone seemed in a better state than you.

You arrived at the station.

“I’m wearing a red dress.”

Maybe the dress was a bit much. It had seemed like a good idea. Wearing red would make you stand out. Now, however, that was the opposite of what you wanted to do. Fading into the background, turning invisible and just straight up going back home was what you really wanted right now. The only thing that was that held you back was the thought of the money you had spent upfront for your plus one.

Two young women stopped next to you. One of them sat her backpack down and tried to stuff a paper bag into it.

“Should I help?”

Her friend watched her struggle with amusement. Despite her offer she did not help backpack girl but looked around instead.

You shifted your attention to your phone. Junhee had seen your message. Good. I hope he will be here soon. So we can get this over with.

“Jeez, I wish my boyfriend looked like that,” the girl said as her friend proclaimed: “I’m done. Let’s go.”

Backpack girl dragged her friend away. At least she had a boyfriend. It was not like you needed a man in your life but it would be nice sometimes. Next week I will try tinder. From past experience that was not likely but the thought alone seemed to pacify your mind for now. Getting a boyfriend was future-you’s problem. Present-you had to worry about that goddamn school reunion.

Someone said your name.

“Hmm?”

You were not sure which part shocked you the most: the crisp black suit that hugged the man’s body perfectly, the curly dark hair that looked straight out of a romcom, the beautiful lips and handsome face, the million dollar smile or the soft voice that said your name. It was hard to choose.

“Ehm?”

“Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Junhee.”

“ID please.”

You showed it to the sour faced student behind the supermarket counter. He nodded and you paid. Buying hard alcohol in broad daylight was highly suspicious but this situation called for it. You definitely could not do this sober. Junhee had sat down on a bench not too far from the supermarket. The black suit and white dress shirt fit him perfectly. It was as if watching a photo shoot for the next wedding catalog. Oh, this is a catastrophe. You unscrewed the bottle and took a good mouthful. The cheap alcohol burned in your mouth and all the way down. No one in their right mind would believe he is my boyfriend. It could not be more obvious that you had hired him. Junhee watched the cars go by. The sun made his hair seem more brown than black and the light breeze moved the soft locks. You took another gulp and stuffed the bottle in your handbag. Did I accidentally book a model? There had not been an option for that of course. I should have asked for a photo. You left the store and walked over to Junhee. Maybe I should just send him home and go drink at a bar.

When he saw you, Junhee stood up. His charming smile filled you with dread. This is a car crash waiting to happen.

“Did you get everything?”

You nodded. Soon the alcohol would hit your brain. Maybe then you would care less about everything. You could not bring yourself to send Junhee away. He had come here, looking sharp and you had paid money for him to be here. Your stinginess won against better judgment, so your only option was the original one: go to your old school.

It felt like there was a black cloud of doom that thickened as you got nearer. The bad experiences from the past made every step you took towards that hell hole more difficult. You wanted to run away.

“Can I take your hand?”

Junhee. You had almost forgotten about him. He had not said anything for the past ten minutes or so. Maybe he felt that now was not a good time to talk. You offered your hand. He interlaced his fingers with yours. It had been some time since you held someone’s hand and it made your heart beat faster. Or maybe it was the liquor.

You turned the corner and there it was. The building looked the same as in your memory. Whoever had the idea of starting the evening here before instead of going to a restaurant directly, did not have your gratitude. Walking through the front door stiffly, you clenched your hands. Your whole body was tense. You were ready to fight or flee at any second.

Voices were coming from the gym. Next to the open door stood a table. On it were pens and stickers. As you approached a woman came through the door and smiled at you. It was the most fake smile you had seen in some time.

“Welcome! Please make a name tag for yourself.”

She made a swiping gesture to the table. You let go of Junhee’s hand and wrote your name on a sticker. The woman watched Junhee as he made a tag for himself. You had never been the jealous type but right then wanted to claw her eyes out.

“Have fun.”

You almost felt her looking as you entered the gym. The hall was filled with bar tables groups had formed and all eyes were on you. At one of the empty tables you stopped.

“I will get something to drink. What do you want?”

You barely heard your own answer over the ringing in your ears. The ceiling had been decorated but it made the hall seem more shabby. As if the paper garlands were only there to hide the cracks in the grey concrete. You looked around.

They looked back at you from the other table, pointed and smirked at each other. Your bullies. They looked old. The ten years since graduation had carved lines into their faces but they tried to hide it by applying too much makeup.

You felt sick.

“Hey.”

A hand landed on your shoulder and you jerked. Junhee pulled back his hand. He studied your face.

“Do you want to leave?”

You looked up. Leave? Leaving meant giving up. They won if you left. No, no you were strong. Your hand strangled your purse. You would not run away from them. Junhee‘s brown eyes watched the tremor in your hand.

“Let’s go,” he whispered and took your hand. Your skin was cold and sweaty against his as Junhee dragged you out. You were so shocked, you did not even say anything until you had left through the front door.

“Stop!”

You ripped your hand free from his grasp.

“You should not stay there any longer.”

“That is not your call to make,” you snapped at him.

His face flushed.

“No, but it is the right one.”

Before you could talk back he continued in a calm tone: “You don’t care about any of those people and they don’t care about you.”

He waved his hands.

“I don't know what happened in the past but you are not here to meet some old friends.”

Your eyes burned. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. It’s humiliating. You tried to blink the tears away but your vision blurred.

“Not here.”

Junhee grabbed your shoulder and led you away. The tears fogged your vision, so you just followed wherever he was going. Your feet moved on their own accord and you were thankful for it. Holding back an undignified sob took up all your mental capacity.

“Sit.”

You collapsed on the bench. There was nothing holding the tears back now. You looked like an idiot in front of everyone. Your bullies had seen you turn up with an escort only to run away the second they looked at you. And now you cried on a bench in front of said escort. How pathetic had your life become? You had not felt this bad since leaving school.

Get a grip. There was nothing to be done here. You did not feel better by telling yourself this, but at least one of these could be fixed. Try to stop crying.

You concentrated on a point on the ground. The concrete was cracked there and something green had started to push its way to the surface. Plants are amazing. They can even exist in these places.

Your eyes still burned and your nose was all clogged up, but you had stopped crying.

“I’m sorry, Junhee.”

You looked up. There was no one around. When did he leave? You sighed and your eyes burnt again. I guess it is just that kind of day. Going home sounded like a good idea but you could not bring yourself to get up. The weight of your sorrows kept you on the bench. You could not even blame Junhee for leaving either. Usually you were very composed and rarely had outbursts of any kind, but today was just not your day.

“Here.”

A bottle of water entered your field of view. Your gaze followed the arm that was holding it up until you met Junhee’s eyes. You took the bottle and almost cried again because he was still here. For better or worse he had not abandoned you on a bench.

The water was cold. It had clearly been in a fridge not too long ago.

“Thank you.”

Junhee sat down next to you and waited while you drank the water. This day, although it was not over, was already a train wreck. Very carefully Junhee asked: “Can we get something to eat?”

You nodded slowly. Food was not a bad idea. You had skipped lunch because you had not been hungry at the time.

“Sure.”

Junhee stood up and looked around, hands on his hips. He turned to you and asked in a hushed tone:

“Where do we have to go?”

There was nothing funny about it but you laughed anyway. Junhee looked like a lost puppy and when he saw you laughing, he pouted. Now this really was funny.

“The station is that way.”

Junhee looked at his phone. He took off his tie and pocketed it.

“Technically I’m free to go now.”

You raised an eyebrow. “We just got here and ordered food and you want to go?” was what you wanted to say but swallowed it. You were still embarrassed and grateful that Junhee was there with you. He had made dumb jokes all the way to your favorite restaurant. It was almost on the other end of town but it was the only place you wanted to be right now.

“So, you wanna leave?”

“Leave? No, no!”

He waved his hands frantically.

“I … meant I’m not here because of work now.”

The soju had painted Junhee’s cheeks a rosy red. It looked good on him.

“What do you do when you don’t do this?”

You gestured vaguely at you and him sitting together in your favorite restaurant. Surely it had to be model or something like that just based on what you had seen so far. Technically you were not supposed to ask personal questions but your contract was done. Technically.

“I’m a student. I study computer science, but I will graduate soon.”

He took a sip from his drink. That rang a bell in the back of your mind. Computer science? Someone was talking to me about that not long ago. Who was it?

The waiter came and set your food on the table. He opened the lid of the barbecue that was mounted in the table.

“Have a good meal.”

“Thank you.”

When you left the restaurant, the sun had set. You felt a little awkward. It had been nice spending time with Junhee even if you had been very distressed earlier. Before you could really think about it, the words fell from your mouth.

“Thank you for spending the day with me. It was nice.”

You did not look at him. It felt unnatural but you meant it and had to say it.

“It was nice for me too.”

Junhee’s hair was not as neat as earlier. The waves had flattened and the way he always combed it left it looking disheveled. His cheeks were flushed from the food and the drinks.

You were not sure what to say. “Goodbye for ever” seemed a bit odd.

“Good luck with your studies. See you around.”

“Goodbye.”

You left Junhee at the restaurant and walked home. It was not too far so you could walk. The night air was refreshing after the stuffy restaurant. It also cleared the dryness of your eyes and nose.

Your apartment was dark and empty. You took a quick shower, put on your pyjamas and went to bed. The day had been emotionally exhausting and you were drifting into the fuzzy precursor to sleep. Your mind drifted through some memories and thoughts but nothing was clear. It hit you. You were wide awake because your brain had found the answer to the question. You grabbed your phone from the nightstand. The light from the screen nearly blinded you.

John, a name he had chosen because none of his overseas clients could pronounce ‘Seungmin’, was the CTO of a company that had their offices in the same building as your company. Without thinking much about it you sent Junhee John’s number.

“He is looking for some computer science people. Maybe that’s something for you. Anyways good luck and best wishes.”

You tried not to think too much about that day. It still felt like a defeat even months later. You had run away from your bullies. They had looked at you and you had folded. It was a bitter memory. The logical part of you noted that it was not worth your time, that you should focus on the tasks at hand and live your life.

You spent time with your friends and on your hobbies. Indeed your spirits lifted slowly. The less time you spent ruminating about the past the more time you could spend on other things.

“Let’s get lunch. I’m starving.”

You agree with your colleague. You grabbed your phone and keys. Your colleague was already at the elevator and held open the door.

Two floors down the elevator stopped and the door opened.

“Hey!”

John and some of his staff entered. You waved and smiled. John was a man in late 40 or early 50s, you had never asked, but he gave off the youthful energy of someone who loved his job. A ‘ding!’ announced the closing of the doors but John jammed his leg and arm between it.

“Hurry up, newbie! We can’t have you starve on the first day!”

Steps echoed in the hallway and the newbie flew into the tight space. The young man had dark hair and wore round glasses. With the dark blue sweater and the jeans he gave off the youthful vibe of a university student. He was very handsome and your face burnt.

Junhee.

[kwonhoshi0]

𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬 | fic

navigation | bonus : the dress

pairing : todoroki x fem! reader

genre : fluffiest fluff it’s disgusting and sMIdge of angst

word count : 3.5k+

warnings : season s3/4 spoilers, mentions of anxiety and worry

themes : mutual pining, suppressed feelings

summary : you’ve liked todoroki since the first class, you often caught him looking at you but neither of you really knew how to handle this stuff so when you had the chance to be more you decided not to ruin the friendship already there, but being great friends meant you can never confess to him because of the fear of ruining a friendship on top of the that the school festival is just around the corner and you’re doing a duet with jirou, so why isn’t it jirou up on the stage with you.

| 1 month until the festival |

‘okay so, we still have time for one more song after the group song’, iida looked around the room before jirou spoke up, ‘actually iida i was wondering if i could do a duet with.. y/n’, you paused before looking up in disbelief  ‘me? but..’ you love singing but it’s been so long since you’ve been up on a stage ‘before you say no, ive heard you sing y/n you are.. incredible and ive always wanted to do a duet with you and this is the perfect opportunity’ she shuffled her feet a little, you stared at her shocked, ‘y/n she’s right you’re amazing’ todoroki spoke up making your stomach flip ‘fine but i have to practice a lot’ you sigh defeated, ‘you wont regret this!’ she grinned.

after sorting out all your parts for the show you all got to work, you sent todoroki a little smile which he returned, ‘hey y/n, lets get started on which song to do’ you nod sitting at the kitchen table. ‘i think the song should be moving, not necessarily slow but not too fast?’ she nodded, ‘exactly what i was thinking, i have a couple ideas’ she scrolled through her laptop for songs, you looked up for a second watching todoroki figure out how they’re going to break his ice for the performance, he was pouting a little making small gestures with his hands which made you smile you locked eyes for a moment, instead of looking away like you would’ve when you first met him you shot him a grin which he returned his cheeks dusting pink, ‘okay so this is one of the songs i was thinking’ your attention snapped back to the laptop in front of you, you went through a couple songs before deciding on one final song, ‘rewrite the stars’ you had both watched the movie that it’s from and decided on doing the dance as well with the help of tsu for the lifting part, you practised the dance first since singing was a lot easier than dancing for the both of you.

you used one of the training facility’s to learn the dance wanting to keep the song and dance a surprise from your friends, walking back to the dorms exhausted, jirou smirked at you, ‘i saw you staring at todoroki back when we were looking for songs’ you held back a smile ‘i- uh yeah we’re friends’ you said cursing at yourself for the stutter, ‘friends don’t look at each other the way you two do’ smiling sadly you look at her, ‘i don’t want to ruin the friendship we have’ handing you her water bottle she gave you an encouraging look ‘y/n i see the way he looks at you, but i understand where you’re coming from, i just hope you both realise’ nodding you walked into the dorms together looking up to see everyone sweating from dancing, ‘HEY GUYS!!’ denki waved, you waved back at the blonde ‘y/n, jirou!! we decided on having a movie night tonight for our hard works!’ mina panted.

you grabbed a towel from your wardrobe heading to your bathroom to wash yourself of the sweat, while showering you were reminded of the time you and todoroki got soaked from the rain while walking back to the dorms, he saw you shivering and you weren’t really friends yet so you were surprised when he walked next to you warming you up with his quirk, ‘todoroki you don’t have to i’m o-okay’ you smile up into his grey and blue eyes ‘you’re shivering, you’ll catch a cold if you stay out like this’ he replied while you both walked a little faster, you hurried inside, sitting on the sofa he moved his hands up and down your arms warming you up ‘thank you todoroki’ he smiled, ‘call me shoto’. you smiled at the memory walking back into your room after getting changed to see todoroki sat on your bed, ‘i have movie options for tonight it’s our turn to pic-’ he froze a little, his eyes stuck on your clothes, you decided to wear an oversized shirt with shorts which you couldn’t really see with the t-shirt and your hair still wet, ‘what, what happened’ you said concern laced your voice, blushing his gaze returned to the video game he was playing ‘its our turn to pick, any movie you want to watch?’ you shook your head sitting next to him, it was quite common for todoroki to come into your room uninvited, you didn’t have anything to hide from him, well other than being in love with him.. but nothing in your room can prove that, you had gotten a lot closer after each villain attack, you are a lot stronger than you look but that doesn’t mean you weren’t upset you could’ve done better which means you’re a lot harder on yourself then you should be, somehow he’s always there to help you, he caught you training late at night but you were pushing yourself way too hard and he’s made you train with him since then so you don’t overexert yourself. ‘hmm, actually how about the greatest showman’ you looked to the boy beside you, ‘i have no clue what that is’.

you turned the movie on despite the protests from a certain ashe blonde, you told jirou you wanted them to watch the movie so when they see you both perform they’ll connect the dots to which she agreed was a great idea. finding your space between todoroki and denki you snuggled into the blanket over the two of you. you didn’t see this but he watched the way you sang along to all the songs everyone, he watched your eyes twinkle from the light of the tv, the way your hair frames your face perfectly, he quickly snapped out of these thoughts when you leaned back against the sofa getting tired. ‘are you tired’ he whispered into your ear, nodding you asked ‘are you?’ shaking his head he accepted the hot chocolate mina made everyone, taking your hot chocolate you blew on it a little before taking a sip, sighing from the warm liquid warming your throat you slumped back your knees slightly brushing against todoroki’s in the process. he smiled at your relaxed form. you set the hot chocolate down before slipping back into the position you were in and falling asleep.

you woke up and groaned, looking at the time it’s 3am and you’re back in your bed? a little confused you head downstairs to grab some water, everyone had gone back to bed since the movie probably ended a while ago, ‘hey’ you jumped at the sudden noise turning around to see todoroki laughing at your scared figure ‘jesus’ you laughed as well, it was always nice laughing with him, he doesn’t laugh often so when he does you cherish it, ‘what are you doing down here’ he spoke up as you sipped on your water, ‘i got a little confused because i woke up in my room and then got thirsty’ you smiled shaking the water bottle in your hand, ‘i uh carried you’ he said softly, blush dusting his cheeks, you also turned a little red at his words ‘thank you’ you handed him a water bottle grinning.

the last couple weeks went by pretty fast, you opened up the jirou about todoroki and she seemed pretty set on getting you both together but for the last 3 weeks of you both practising she either cancelled last minute so you practised by yourself or she barely practised with you at all only making sure you perfected the moves, you were a little worried about the performance since when you went over the whole song she kept forgetting the dance, she told you she practises at night but that didn’t reassure you much.

the last week rolled around and you were worried as hell, the performance is right around the corner and jirou is barely trying also todoroki wasn’t hanging out with you as much as usual, you game together on weekends but he was no where to be seen, you shrugged it off since everyone’s busy with the festival and school.

the last day rolled around faster than you hoped it would, the duet you and jirou had been working on wasn’t going great, you had practised hard and got all the little steps right along with the song but it’s like jirou didn’t care about your duet since she was doing great when practising the group song, which had you riddled with nerves, you had practised the levitating move with tsu, jirou didn’t even bother to show up for that day and you needed to talk to her about it but everytime you tried she said everything will be okay scared you just went along with it. since it’s the day before the performance you decided to head to the closed training facility just to make sure you got everything right, just as you were about to head in you saw the lights on, peering around the corner your heart dropped, you saw todoroki with jirou he was on the ground and she held out her hand pulling him up as they laughed, was she just trying to get closer to him this whole time?... you ran back to the dorms tears silently dropping down your face as you did. ‘oh god, y/n what happened?’ momo ran over as you walked into the dorms, ‘nothing it’s fine, i’m fine’ you said wiping away your tears before shutting yourself off in your room leaving your friends to share looks of concern, it took a lot for you to break down like that in front of everyone. how can you do the performance now. you were angry, not at todoroki but jirou for manipulating you like that, you had to go through with the performance though you thought as memories of you and todoroki flooded your head, you knew he didn’t like you but seeing him with someone else hurt a lot more than you thought i would, you sat there as tears slid down your face in silence. you heard a knock on your door, you stayed silent just so they would leave, ‘y/n it’s me.. please open the door’ it was todoroki, your heart hurt at his voice which was laced with concern and worry. you opened the door, ‘what happened’ he looked at you sadly, ‘nothing it’s fine’ you lied looking anywhere but his eyes, he lifted your chin up so your eyes met ‘you’re not fine’ you shook your head away from his grip, ‘i’ll be fine don’t worry’ you put on a fake smile before closing the door and locking it. ‘y/n fuck please talk to me’ you wanted to, you wanted to talk to him so bad but you couldn’t, you couldn’t just ruin your friendship, especially if she makes him happy.

crawling out of bed you washed your face and got dressed as usual. afterwards you headed downstairs as you remembered the events of last night, pushing them to the back of your head you made tea for you and a couple others, ‘morning y/n’ denki smiled his hair a little disheveled from waking up early, well it’s 7am on a monday so not so early. ‘morning denki’ you smiled a small smile at him, ‘are you okay, after last night’ he nudged your shoulder, ‘i’m fine dont worry’ you said handing him his tea.

you were anxious, your performance was in an hour and jirou was no where to be seen, your group performance went amazing, you couldn’t help but glance at todoroki as he performed, he tried to talk to you before but you only said a couple words to him before saying you needed to get ready, ‘sorry shoto, i’ll talk to you after’ you smiled heading off to get ready, your dress is beautiful, it’s a pale rosie colour with a sheer black mesh over it, it looks a little vintage as it has a corset and it’s off the shoulder. you put it on and momo gasped at you ‘y/n, you look beautiful’ she had a big smile on her face, denki and kiri walked in and as a soon as they saw you they had the same expression on their face as momo did ‘WOAHH Y/N’ denki yelled ‘y/n you look amazing’ kirishima added, you smiled at them all before momo dragged you into a chair to do your makeup, she added a black wing to compliment your eyes matching with the dress, and some pink blush as well as tinted red lipstick. you were ready, ‘hey guys wheres jirou, she’s meant to be getting ready with me’ you frowned at the girls unusual lack of cooperation, ‘oh, uhh she’s getting ready in the other changing rooms’ denki said stuttering making you furrow your brows a little, is she avoiding me? you thought, does she feel guilty, pushing these thoughts to the side you stood beside the stage watching as class 1b walked off stage.

you felt hands on your eyes, ‘what the fuck’ you said as denki quickly said ‘trust me just let me walk you to the middle of the stage and then i’ll let go��� you agreed quickly knowing the performance is due to start, walking to the centre of the stage you turned around so you are facing where you were stood moments ago, denki stood there smiling sending you a thumbs up, smiling as you’re back to back with jirou not actually seeing her yet since denki made sure to keep your eyes closed, the backing track started, this part was you and jirou singing as she took the lead. ‘you know i want you, it’s not a secret i try to hide’ your eyes widened as you turned around instead of jirou it was todoroki singing with you, he somehow knew the dance and the song, [ blue : todoroki | red : you | purple : both ]. ‘i know you want me, so don’t keep saying our hands are tied’ your hand pressed against his as you walked in a circle your dress trailing behind you, your eyes still wide from the shock of him singing with you, he looked at you like he’s been waiting all his life to see you, as if you weren’t on a stage in front of the whole school, the feeling between your hands felt electric ‘you claim it’s not in the cards but fate is pulling you miles away and out of reach from me, but you’re here in my heart so who can stop me if i decide that you’re my destiny’ his eyes didn’t leave yours a smile plastered on his face, he pulled you in so you’re only an inch away from his face exactly like the choreography you learnt ‘what if we rewrite the stars, say you were made to be mine, nothing could keep us apart you’d be the one i was meant to find’ you fought the urge to kiss him right there as you both pulled away and he twirled you around ‘it’s up to you and it’s up to me, no one can say what we get to be, so why don’t we rewrite the stars, maybe the world could be ours, tonight’ you broke apart again then grabbed his hand as he pulled you back into his hold his hands on your waist looking into your twinkling eyes, you pushed yourself away backing away as tsu pulled you up so you’re now levitating up earning gasps from the crowd, ‘you think it’s easy, you think i don’t want to run to you, but there are mountains there are doors that we can’t walk through, i know you’re wondering why because we’re able to be just you and me within these walls but when we go outside you’re gonna wake up and see that it was hopeless after all’ he watched you, as if you were the only person for him, he knew in that moment that he could never see someone the way he sees you, ‘no one can rewrite the stars, how can you say you’ll be mine, everything keeps us apart and i’m not the one you were meant to find, it’s not up to you it’s not up to me when everyone tells us what we can be, how can we rewrite the stars say that the world can be ours tonight’ he watched you with stars in his eyes as tsu lifted you back down, you grabbed his hands feeling as if you were flying as you sang together ‘all i want is to flyy with you all i want is to fall with you, so just give me all of you, if feels impossible, it’s not impossible, is it impossible, say that it’s possible.. how do we rewrite the stars say you were made to be mine, nothing could keep us apart, cause you are the one i was meant to find, it’s up to you and it’s up to me no one can say what we get to be, why don’t we rewrite the stars, changing the world to be ours’ you caught your breath as todoroki held you closest he’s ever held you before, you could feel his breath on you, you looked up at him, eyes locked as you got ready to sing the last verse, ‘you know i want you, it’s not a secret i try to hide, but i can’t have you, we’re bound to break and my hands.. are tied’. you breathed as the audience broke out in cheers, ‘y/n’ you looked up at him again, flicking between his lips and eyes, ‘shoto’ you smiled, before you could say another word he held your waist before putting a hand on your jaw.

‘y/n i’m so fucking in love with you’ he breathed closing his eyes as if he was waiting for rejection, your eyes widened and then it hit you, jirou was teaching todoroki the dance and the song, that’s why she barely showed up, that’s why they were together that night, your smile wider than it’s ever been, you put your arms around his neck and kissed him his lips gentle on yours, the cheers around you grew louder and you could hear a couple people sobbing as you both pulled away, ‘i love you too shoto’ he beamed at you, his smile melting your heart.

as you both got off stage your class surrounded you screaming ‘THAT WAS FUCKING INCREDIBLE’ kirishima and denki screamed, momo was sobbing as well as hagakure and uraraka. ‘y/n i’m so sorry for making you think any different about the performance and probably causing you a lot of worry’ jirou said sympathetically, ‘are you kidding, jirou i couldn’t thank you enough’ you smile hugging the girl, ‘guys seriously that was incredible, even kaachan had his mouth open’ midoriya rambled making you both laugh, ‘I DID NOT DEKU’ he yelled at the green haired boy, todoroki pulled you into his arms again ‘shoto, are you okay’ you pouted returning the hug ‘it’s taken me so long to say something, i’m just so glad we’re finally here’ he beamed kissing your forehead, ‘that was AMAZING young todoroki, young y/n, to see a young couple with such chemistry perform!!’ all might yelled making you laugh and thank the elder. you both walked back to the makeup room to find makeup remover, ‘i can’t believe it took us this long’ you pout as he laughed pulling you into his chest ‘i’m glad i have you now’ he grinned placing small kisses on forehead making you giggle, you grabbed the makeup remover, ‘l/n, todoroki that was a great show’ aizawa peeked his head through the door, you both thanked him as he walked back to the staff office, momo had to do your makeup again since you had to have photos taken in the outifts you performed in so you quickly took the photos and got changed into normal clothes before mirio asked you both to look after eri while he got aizawa sensei. you had met eri before when she came over to the dorms and she surprisingly liked you a lot, and todoroki for that matter, she laughed with you as you got her some chocolate, ‘thank you y/n-san’ she beamed at you. mirio came back with aizawa as it’s time for them to leave, you said your goodbyes. you all trudged back to your dorms exhausted, you took a shower and changed into an oversized jumper with sleeping shorts, walking back into your room to see todoroki on your bed with wet hair, he was picking through movies, you sat next to him placing a towel on his lap and laying your head there, ‘what are you doing’ he smirked, ‘i don’t want to get your legs wet’ he laughed a little at you as he picked a movie, he ran his hands through your hair tracing your nose and lips making you giggle, ‘we rewrote the stars’.

A/N :

ive hit peak sadness, What THE FUCK THIS IS TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF. i’m so sorry

taglist : @blazedbakugou @todoroki-shoto-is-life also @shotos-noodles i think you’ll like this <3

[secondhand-trash]

Heart Knot

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

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

Pairing: Kita Shinsuke x reader

Word count: 7827

Playlist:

Permanence//Bears In Trees

The Way You Look Tonight//Frank Sinatra

Hiding Tonight//Alex Turner

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

You could not knit to save a life.

But you had tried, you really did. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh? What is this?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm, they said they made it themselves.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

Great, just wonderful.

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

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

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

“Are you alright?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Screw 15 year old you, they knew nothing.

“Of course.”

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you teach me how to knit?”

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck-

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

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

Someone as in, well, him.

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

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

“Sure.”

-

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

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

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

Must be someone important to you.

-

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

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

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

“Let me see.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You pursed your lips, toying with the unfinished hem.

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

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

“Kita kun.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right.

You smiled, a genuine one this time.

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

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

“You’re right.”

-

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

But you, you were just really nervous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kita kun?”

“Yes?”

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

Warm, bright, beautiful.

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

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

You tried to maintain the smile on your face.

“Of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he didn’t care, he loved it.

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

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

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

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

And it was so, so warm.

[meesa-hoe]

An Angel In Beskar

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader x Paz Vizsla

Summary: Two Mandalorians find you near death in the middle of a desert on Tatooine and while you’re quick to warm up to the one in the mismatched blue armor, his silver companion is much colder towards you.

Rating: M but later chapters will probably be rated E for sexual content.

Word Count: 4,500

Warnings: Descriptions of hopelessness, violence, trauma, and minor injuries.

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! I’ve been working on this for a while and finally decided to post it here since I noticed there’s not a whole lot of Paz x Reader x Din stories and I absolutely love the ones that I have read. I’m hoping to have the next chapter up in the next week!

There is an established relationship between Paz and Din prior to them finding the reader.

‘May the Maker have mercy on my soul.’

There’s no point in you praying when you’re certain death is about to wrap it’s cold arms around your weak body. After traveling through the unforgiving Tatooine desert for days without water, your body is beginning to shut down and you fear that this will be your last night spent alive on such a cruel planet. Your thin dress and the scarf you had used to cover your face in an attempt to protect yourself from the scorching hot suns is your only source of warmth as you lifelessly lay on the sand and you wonder how long it will take for you to be buried deep underneath the soft granules.

You will soon end up like the ones who had perished in your village after it had been brutally attacked by bandits and raiders just days ago. Though you had barely escaped in one piece, you suddenly wished you had stayed so you could have at least had a quicker death, rather than slowly dying in the middle of nowhere. You had been foolish to think there would be another village nearby and tears finally trickle down your cheeks as you peer up at the moon, an intense feeling of despair seeping all the way down to your heart.

You miss your family.

The silence that surrounds you only makes you sob harder, loneliness eating away at you as you simply long for your family. Despite not living a luxurious life in the tiny village, it never diminished the love you had for the ones close to you. The images play on a loop in your mind--bodies covered in blood and lifeless eyes staring into your soul as you hid from the bandits--and you finally allow the physical and emotional pain to consume you.

In a way, it’s cathartic to let it all out without others being around to judge you, though it also has you longing for a comforting touch, whether that be a firm hug or someone just holding your hand. You’re reminded of the way your parents would comfort you and your siblings when you were younger, their voices always like soothing, cold water during the hottest days of summer and it only has you crying harder.

Once it feels like you can’t cry anymore and you’ve accepted your fate, you rest for the final time.

Hours pass--at least you think that as you barely cling onto life.

You don’t even realize you’re not dead until a quiet, filtered rasp manages to break through the darkness and silence that surrounds you, though your eyelids feel like they weigh a thousand pounds and are nearly impossible to crack open. It’s morning now, or maybe even the afternoon, judging by the way the suns ruthlessly beat down on you.

“How did she manage to get all of the way out here?” That hushed, soothing voice sounds a little further away and you wonder who he’s talking to until two leather digits press against the pulse on your neck. “The nearest village is days away on foot,” The person taking your pulse simply grunts in response and you finally manage to pry your eyes open when your curiosity threatens to overwhelm you. 

Who would be insane enough to trek through a desert on Tatooine?

Your vision is blurred, black dots floating around as you blink several times before it finally clears.

Instantly, you’re face to face with a t-shaped visor and--

A Mandalorian! 

Not just one, but two.

You think the lack of water and the intense heat has you hallucinating.

You had grown up hearing stories of the warriors, your oldest brother telling you how they were the strongest beings in the galaxy and typically not cruel to strangers who were innocent. There had been rumors of one living on Tatooine and as a little girl, you remember praying to the Maker that they would show up and rid your village of all the bandits that would terrorize your family and neighbors.

Even the Gods don’t want anything to do with Tatooine.

If you weren’t so exhausted and weak, you could have cried from relief and begged the two Mandalorians in front of you to save you, though your throat is far too dry and your mouth feels like cotton.

“What are you doing all the way out here, little one?” The blue Mando closest to you questions when he realizes you’re awake and you find that his voice is far more rough and brusque than his companion’s, though it’s not unpleasant in the slightest. After going days with nothing but your own thoughts to keep you company, you’re just happy and relieved to not be be alone

“P-Please... Help,” You manage to speak in a hoarse plea, tears spilling from your eyes as you clutch at the material covering the warrior’s ribs as tightly as you can, afraid that he’s simply going to stand up and leave you there to die. The way he leans in a little closer instantly fills you with hope and even though your face is mostly covered, you pray that he can see the desperation in your eyes and that he’s able to sympathize with you.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now.”

He’s massive and wears scuffed up, dull blue and yellow armor that you think has seen several battles since it was forged; he’s all mismatched and terrifying, but in that moment, you see him as some sort of Beskar angel.

His armor looks far more worn than his companion’s as you lift your gaze to peer at him, though it only has you squinting your eyes in pain as the impossibly bright suns reflect off of the silver Beskar and you simply let your eyelids slip shut once again. You feel a hand touch the thick cloth that covers your cheekbone, your Beskar angel letting out a low hum as he assesses your injuries as much as he can with all of the fabric in the way.

“What are you doing?” The silver warrior questions, his tone now cold and your heart instantly shatters when he continues, “We don’t even know who she is and you want to bring her with us?”

“We can’t just leave her out here to die,” The Mandalorian crouched down next to you doesn’t hesitate to admonish him, his voice filled with sympathy and conviction, “The ship isn’t too far from here and I don’t mind carrying her. Who knows how long she’s been walking through this desert on foot.”

“We can’t just take in every stray you stumble upon. Besides, we don’t know her--what if she’s just another criminal? Tatooine is filled with scum.”

“Look at her!” The blue warrior instantly snaps, his voice tinged with anger towards his companion and you nearly cry upon realizing he’s willing to fight for your survival, “She’s so weak that she can’t even keep her eyes open and she looks injured. Who’s to say she wasn’t running away from a bad situation? Besides, if she does try anything, do you think she could really get the upper hand on two Mandalorians in her condition? She doesn’t even have a single weapon on her!”

You hear an exasperated sigh and before the shiny Mando can put up anymore of a fight, you feel clunky Beskar sliding under your knees while his other arm winds around your shoulders, bringing you off of the hot sand with ease. If your mind wasn’t so hazy, you would have marveled at his sheer strength, but you feel your body relax against his Beskar that has been warmed from the suns.

“If she tries anything, I’m putting her in carbonite.”

Instead of praying to the Maker for mercy like you had hours ago, you find yourself praying that the stories your brother had told you of Mandalorian are true and that these two strangers don’t have cruel intentions with you. The blue one carrying you seems nice enough, but the silver Mando with the quiet voice still has you on edge and you immediately tense up at the thought of essentially being frozen.

“You don’t have any slabs left available because you’re an impatient di’kut,” The blue warrior reminds him, sounding more amused than agitated and you hear a hint of fondness in his gruff voice, “Let’s just get her back to the ship and we’ll find out what happened to her.”

“Fine, but I’m putting the cuffs on her.”

The one carrying you is quick to shoot down that idea, “Unless you want me to give you a concussion, you’re not putting cuffs on her.”

Using all of your strength, you manage to curl your arms around your savior’s neck, your fingers pressing into the soft fabric covering his nape as you whisper out a meek ‘thank you’. It hurts your dry throat but you hope he can detect the genuine gratitude in your hoarse voice, tears filling your eyes as they crack open to peer at the silver Mando who’s trailing behind your savior.

His tilted visor is trained solely on your face, despite the fact that most of your features are covered by your white scarf and you can tell he’s still wary about your presence. For a moment, he fiddles with his cuffs before giving up with a tired sigh and you let your eyelids slip shut when you realize he’s no going to restrain you.

“Shh, little one,” The Mando carrying you intones, his rough voice soothing the ache in your heart as you sniffle, tears soaking your scarf, “It is safe to rest your eyes now. Once we get back to the ship, we’ll get some water and food in your belly again.”

That’s all he has to say for you to slump against his cuirass before you’re being tugged back into unconsciousness once again. You’re in and out of it for most of the journey and every single time you manage to pry your eyes open, the silver Mandalorian’s visor is fixated on you, putting you even more on edge until you fall back asleep again. Even with his gauntlets digging into your knees and shoulders, you find comfort in knowing that you have the protection of at least one Mandalorian and it’s the only thing that lets you rest as peacefully as your hectic mind will allow.

The next time you regain consciousness, it’s to the sounds of the warriors conversing with one another in hushed tones, perhaps in an attempt to not wake you up.

“Do you think it’s okay to take off her face coverings?” Your savior sounds hesitant as fingers graze along the material covering your jaw and something about it is endearing, “What if she has it on for a reason?”

He thinks your culture is similar to his--that you have to keep your identity concealed just like a Mandalorian--and if you weren’t so exhausted and in so much pain, you would have found this amusing. “Not everyone who covers their face does it because they’re sworn to a creed,” The silver Mando sounds just as entertained as you are, the terseness from earlier no longer lingering in his filtered rasp and when you finally open your eyes, you’re surprised to find how relaxed he appears as he sits on a crate adjacent from the cot you are laying on.

Your savior has his back to you as he stares at his companion, “I just don’t want to invade her privacy.”

“She’s probably wearing it to protect her skin from the suns.”

“You think so?”

“Ask her yourself.”

The blue warrior instantly turns to you, his visor tilted to the side as you stare back up at him with wide eyes, suddenly feeling sheepish and shy. Slowly, you manage to sit up on the cot with a pained whimper and reach up to remove your white scarf that is stained with splotches of blood. As soon as the cold air cycling through the ship kisses your warm cheeks, you let your eyelids slip shut with a relieved sigh, the stained fabric that had protected you from the unforgiving suns falling to the metal floor next to your feet.

“You must be thirsty,” The blue Mandalorian’s rough voice has you opening your eyes and you nearly let out with a loud gasp when he offers you his canteen, “Here.”

The water could have been tainted with poison and you wouldn’t have even noticed as you chugged the cold liquid, a few tears escaping your eyes at the immense relief that instantly floods you after going days without a drop of liquid. “What is your name?” He inquires once you’ve sadly finished off all the water, though the one in silver approaches the two of you and retrieves the leather canteen, wandering off to perhaps refill it.

You hesitate to give the stranger an answer, especially after all you’ve been through these past few rotations, but you think if he wanted to hurt you, he would have done it by now and you eventually whisper your name after a pregnant pause. His visor tilts further to the side as you stare at his scuffed up cuirass rather than his helmet, tears filling your eyes when he asks how you ended up in the desert.

“It is okay, little one,” He soothes your pain with that gruff voice as he towers over you, “You’re safe now.”

“M-My village, it--” The blue warrior places a heavy hand on your shoulder as the terrifying memories of your home being burned to the ground play on repeat in your head and something about his firm touch is incredibly comforting, “The raiders they… They killed everyone and burned down all the buildings. My whole f-family--”

You don’t realize the shiny Mandalorian is within earshot until he says something in a foreign language that you don’t recognize, though you think he must have asked about you when your savior repeats your name in a terse voice, along with a few other words. 

“Dank farrik,” The smaller of the two sighs before angrily shoving the canteen into your hands and they continue to speak in their mother tongue, sounding as though they’re arguing.

“D-Did I do something wrong?” You meekly question them after you take several swigs of the cold water, tears still drying on your cheeks as they both gaze at you long enough to cause your nerves to spike even more. Anxiously, you pluck at the loose threads on the hem of your skirts, feeling anxious underneath the intense stares of such strong warriors when you feel the weakest you ever have in your life. The blue warrior angrily shakes his scuffed up helmet before hastily stomping off of the small ship, leaving you alone with the silver, brooding Mandalorian that seems far more awkward around you than his companion.

The ruddy, orange tips of his leather gloves curl against his sides as he silently regards you for a few more moments. 

“Come with me,” He eventually orders with a slight tilt of his helmet, urging you to follow him as you scramble to your bare feet to obey his gentle command. He leads you to the hull of the ship and you nearly cower away from him as he leads you through a small walkway that’s lined with several slabs of carbonite, afraid that you’ve done something wrong. With the blue Mandalorian gone, your mind runs rampant of all the horrible things this stranger can do to you and your gaze lifts to the huge rifle strapped to his back.

You freeze as you wonder how many people he’s killed with it, or if he prefers to use the smaller blaster holstered against his hip.

Upon noticing that you’re not following him, he turns to face you.

“I’m... I’m not going to hurt you,” He quietly promises when he notices your hesitation, his visor lingering on you as you eventually trail right behind him again, still clutching the leather canteen between your clammy palms, “I just want to see if you recognize someone.”

The stranger comes to a stop in front of one of the slabs of carbonite and confusion floods you as he gestures to it like one would offer a prize, though fear and horror immediately has your heart in a frenzy when you recognize the Zabrak frozen in time.

He had been among the many that had terrorized your village for so long.

“W-What is he doing here?!”

“He’s the leader of the group of bandits that burned down your village and he is also a quarry of ours,” He quietly explains in an oddly gentle voice, watching as the canteen slips from your palms and onto the floor of the ship, “We managed to track him down the day after the attack. I am... sorry we were too late.” 

The shiny Mandalorian holds a hand up in an attempt to calm you as panic tugs at your heart to the point where it’s difficult to breathe properly and you quickly back away from the hunter, fleeing further into the ship until you manage to find the refresher. You’re grateful there’s a lock on the door as you sink to the floor, the hunter’s voice calling out to you on the other side of the door, though there’s a sharp ringing noise blaring in your ears that makes it damn near impossible to hear even your own thoughts.

The Mandalorian eventually gives up on trying to get you to exit the refresher and leaves with a defeated sigh. You’re shaking with fear as you keep reminding yourself that the you’re on the same ship with the cruel monster that orchestrated the attack on your little village.

That Zabrak is the reason why your entire family was slaughtered.

And he’s on the same ship with you.

You sit there in solitude for quite some time, listening to the two Mandalorians as they quietly talk to one another in the hull of the ship. The larger of the two must have a naturally loud voice and you can’t stop yourself from smiling when his silver companion occasionally shushes him when he speaks your name. It sounds like they might be arguing about something and you hope it’s not about you, but judging by the irritation in both of their voices, you’re certain they’re trying to figure out what to do with you.

Especially now that you have no home to go back to.

A deep sigh pushes past your lips you as you finally stand, the warriors’ argument ceasing when you move to the sink and turn the water on to splash some of the cool liquid on your face. The stark contrast between the cold water compared to the sonic shower in your home is lovely and cathartic after having gone so long with only ever really having warm water.

There’s a firm knock on the door, the blue warrior calmly reciting your name in an effort to get you to come out, “It’s okay, I just want to talk with you.” 

Dread floods your frantic heart as you dry your face off with the sleeve of your dress before hesitantly cracking the door open to stare at his scuffed up cuirass, too afraid that if you look at his helmet, you’ll only breakdown again.

“I am sorry for your losses, little one,” The Mandalorian sighs, holding his hand out for you to take in a friendly gesture that has you opening the door all the way. “I know all too well the grief of losing loved ones,” You take hold of his hand and he immediately strokes a firm thumb along your knuckles, the foreign touch comforting as he guides you out of the refresher and to one of the crates so you can sit down.

“Are...” You hesitate as you finally peer up at his tilted visor, fear wrapping around you like a vice, “Are you two going to leave me here?”

A sigh escapes him and your eyes widen when he rests a leather palm on the side of your neck, his thumb grazing along your jaw as he takes in your appearance for several moments. Though you’ve only been in the presence of the two warriors for a couple hours, you realize just how different their personalities are. Your Beskar-clad angel is massive, loud, and rough around the edges, yet somehow so gentle around you, while the silver warrior is placid, quiet, and constantly brooding, wanting nothing to do with you. 

You can’t help but to wonder what their relationship to one another is, if they’re simply close friends or something more, given how they’re simultaneously comfortable and dysfunctional around each other.

“No, we’re not just going to leave you in the middle of nowhere,” He sounds oddly sad as he pulls you from your thoughts, his voice the quietest you’ve heard from him so far, “We can either drop you off somewhere safer or you can stay with us for a little while and help out with certain things on the ship.”

You don’t hear the silver Mandalorian descending from the cockpit, his visor on the two of you as shock courses through you. “Y-You would let me stay?” His fingers twitch against your neck upon hearing the way your voice shakes, your eyes burning at the kindness he’s displaying, “But... I don’t think the other Mandalorian really wants me here. He doesn’t trust me.”

His blue pauldrons slump and you resist the urge to reach out and trace a silver indentation on the worn armor, “It’s not that he doesn’t trust you, we’re just not used to being around people who don’t want to kill us.”

You contemplate his words thoroughly as his thumb continues to stroke your jawline and after going several days without anyone to talk to or share your fear with, the touch is a warm welcome. “Well, after everything that happened to my village, I don’t think I have it in me to hurt anyone, let alone kill,” Your own shoulders slump, eyelids slipping shut as you remember how scared you had been as you hid yourself from the bandits underneath a pile of bloody, lifeless bodies.

You don’t realize you’re shaking until the silver Mandalorian makes his presence known by softly saying a word in what you think is their mother tongue, instantly earning his companion’s unwavering attention.

“Vizsla.”

You quickly pull away and wipe the tears from your flushed cheeks, a heavy hand lingering on your shoulder as the quiet Mandalorian speaks in that gentle rasp that sounds softer than usual and you feel bashful when his visor lowers to regard you. 

“I set the coordinates for the next stop,” He appears awkward as his fingers flex against his thighs, his visor still fixated on you as he offers you a sharp nod. The blue warrior chuckles, though you’re not sure why as his companion approaches the two of you, seeming to tense up a little more and you’re certain that the silver Mando hates you already.

“This is your last chance for us to drop you off at the nearest village,” He warns you as the heavy-infantry warrior gives your shoulder a firm squeeze, as if trying to give you some of his strength even though you feel devastatingly weak, “Otherwise you’re stuck with us until further notice. We can’t guarantee your safety.”

You try your hardest to appear tough in front of the hunter, though his helmet tilts to the side with what feels like amusement as you awkwardly shift on your feet, “I… I have no family left and nowhere else to go. I would rather be with you two than have to suffer alone in an unfamiliar village that may or may not be attacked by cruel people again.”

He hesitates, visor shifting between you and the Mandalorian at your side, before nodding and making his way back to the cockpit without another word, pulling a sigh from the blue warrior as he turns back to you, tilting his helmet in the direction of the ladder. “Come on, little one,” He helps you off the crate before guiding you to the cockpit, following close behind as you push yourself up the ladder. Before you can say anything else, you’re interrupted by an intense rumble coming from your empty stomach and you pray that he didn’t hear it, though judging by his snort of laughter, your prayers were unanswered.

“Once we make the jump into hyperspace we’ll get you some food. Flying can be a lot if you’re not used to it and I don’t want you throwing up all over the cockpit.”

A warmth blossoms across your cheeks as the metal doors slide open, his palm still covering the small of your back as he urges you to sit in one of the unoccupied co-pilot chairs. You quickly buckle in as the brooding hunter flicks some switches on the console, seeming completely at ease as his blue companion lazily plops down in the chair next to you, the two of them not bothering with their seatbelts. Briefly, you wonder how long they’ve been doing this--traveling with one another--and with how sure of himself the silver Mando appears as he easily guides the ship off the sandy ground, you think it’s been quite a while.

“Have you ever been off Tatooine before?” The blue warrior asks you when he notices how tightly you’re clutching your seatbelt the further the ship ascends and you force yourself to relax your stiff fingers. “N-No,” You quietly inform him, tearing your gaze away from the windows to peer at him instead, “I lived in that village for all my life. When... When everything happened with the bandits, I wasn’t sure where to go, so I just ran.”

His visor tilts to the side and as he continues to speak, you can’t stop yourself from wondering if he’s doing it to distract you as the ship breaks the atmosphere of the sandy planet. “Well, it’s a good thing we happened to be close by since the nearest city was at least four more cycles away on foot,” This information makes you shudder and instantly, you grow quiet, knowing that there was no way you would have ever made it if they hadn’t shown up when they did.

He seems to notice your melancholic disposition and is quick to change the subject, his filtered voice melting into something more lighthearted that has you weakly smiling at his visor. “Maybe it’s a good thing you’re here,” He tilts his helmet to where his silver companion is piloting the ship into space, “He doesn’t exactly make for the best company sometimes, always brooding and complaining. Besides, you’re far prettier to look at.”

Your cheeks immediately grow warm at his sudden coyness, though it only seems to exasperate the other Mandalorian as he sighs, his silver helmet shaking as starlight reflects off of the pretty Beskar.

As the old, rickety ship makes the jump to hyperspace, causing a queasy sensation in the pit of your belly, you think that maybe the two of them don’t make for bad company at all.

Perhaps there is some force in the galaxy that took mercy on your soul after all.

[florrickandassociates]

TGF Thoughts: 5x06- And the two partners had a fight...

I’ve been waiting for this episode for nearly a decade, and I didn’t even realize it. More under the cut. 

(This is very long! Please fight me on stuff and disagree because I just wrote all these words about this episode and I STILL want to talk about it more, it was that interesting!) 

This is the second episode in a row to start off with a TikTok video. 5x02 and 5x03 both ended with elevators. Is there some sort of pattern they’re going for here?  

This case—which is, it’s important to note, in Wackner’s court—is about TikTok content creators and copyright laws. Probably not enough material for a full case, but definitely an interesting theme to explore.

Marissa doesn’t have her laptop volume off (which I suppose makes sense; she was just playing the TikTok videos) and a notification sounds. She shuts the laptop.

Wackner rules that the profits made from the TikTok dance must be split evenly between the guy who stole the dance for his video game and the creator. The thief does not like this, removes his moose costume (oh, yeah, did I mention they’re in costumes again?), and starts shouting that he’s going to sue and then moons the whole court. Okay!

He follows through on his threat, and next thing we know, Liz, Cord, Wackner, and Marissa are meeting to discuss strategy.

Liz’s computer makes the same noise Marissa’s did; she punches some keys.

Liz points out that Wackner’s biggest problem is that real judges are not going to like Wackner playacting as a judge. “I’m not playing a judge. I am a judge,” Wackner says. Liz notes that Wackner’s court lacks any way of forcing people to comply with his rulings, but real court can shut him down.

I guess whatever keys Liz punched did not silence the annoying notification sound.

She asks Wackner to try not to become the focus of the court case, since that’s how they’ll lose. “This is why I started a court,” Wackner says after Liz instructs him to only answer yes or no and to wear a suit.  

Liz asks Marissa to keep Wackner in line. She says she’ll try.

Now we are at the Black Lawyers Association, where there’s a panel with leaders from Chicago’s four top black law firms. For reasons passing understanding, DIANE is on this panel. This makes absolutely no sense (I mean, unless only white people were involved in this decision, and even then!) and I’ll only excuse it because they mention later that it makes no sense for Diane to have been on this panel.  

I wonder why everyone else’s firm gets named but not Diane’s.  

Diane also gets the first question, which is, pointedly, about opportunities for black lawyers. Her phone starts making the annoying notification sound. Ever heard of silent mode??  

The annoying sound happens every five seconds at the RL offices. According to David Lee, it happens twenty times an hour, but it seems like more than that! He, for some reason, goes to Carmen to ask how to stop the sound. He also wants to know what it is. Carmen explains that it is “Dawnk” which is a new messaging system within the company.  

On Dawnk, you can talk about anything you want and be anonymous. Who approved this?! In one frame, I can see there’s someone complaining about someone being promoted too fast because of “the future is female bs.” In another, someone is upset that they are anonymous and wants to use their real name (only Jay, who is otherwise absent from this episode, seems to have figured out how to turn this anon mode off).

Sorry, before I can get on board with this plot, I just need to note for the record how phenomenally stupid the idea of using anonymous messaging software within a company is. This was obviously not going to end well! It’s like workplace YikYak... (remember YikYak?!)  

David Lee hates the idea of a messaging software; Carmen says the associates prefer this.  

Jay is being very nice in the chat and defends the person who was promoted “too fast”.

“Who’s ‘Anonymous Crab’?” David Lee asks. Well, I think the fact they are “anonymous” should be a bit of a hint there, David.  

Anonymous Crab asks, “How the hell did this happen??! How did Diane end up at a Black Conference speaking for our firm?” Good question, Anonymous Crab.

Anon Crab also shares a video and David Lee doesn’t understand how to press play. Carmen plays it for him. Diane looks really awful on the panel. No shit! David Lee seems to enjoy Diane looking bad, even though he should be able to connect the dots between Diane looking bad and potential for bad things to come for the firm...  

Not only does Diane get quizzed about why she’s running a firm that is still insisting on calling itself a black firm, she also gets questions about her insurrectionist husband. “He was completely cleared of those charges,” Diane notes. Oh, hey!!!!! Remember how last week I said I’d be more surprised if that was the end of the FBI nonsense than if it continued? I am surprised!! And relieved. Mostly relieved. Dealing with the consequences of that high profile, relationship-straining ordeal is so much more interesting to me than any FBI machinations.  

Next Diane is asked if Kurt just took a job to revitalize the NRA. She hasn’t heard of this yet. I’m glad she’s getting grilled on this stuff... it is about time.  

There’s a hint that Carmen will be representing Mr. Rapey next week. I assume that’s why there’s a line where David checks in with Carmen on Mr. Rapey’s case?  

Anon Platypus says, “I heard she didn’t even have seniority. She just jumped past other black partners to become our name partner. It’s crazy!!!” Anon Platypus is correct—technically. Diane was a name partner at one of Chicago’s top firms before joining RL, so while she skipped the line... that doesn’t seem to me like the PRIMARY issue in bringing her on. The primary issue is that bringing on someone that senior from outside the company is more similar to a merger than a promotion, and Diane’s partnership meant changes for the firm.  

Other anonymous animals also don’t like Diane. One calls her clueless; another says that “Liz needs to do something about this.” Someone responds to that, “Liz will never do it on her own,” which is an interesting sentiment I want to come back to in a little bit.  

“What is Black Twitter?” David Lee asks Liz out of the blue. “People on Twitter who are black and talk to each other,” Liz responds. David Lee asks how he can find it. “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,” Liz jokes. And to think Jay said Liz wasn’t funny!  

The Dawnk conversation shifts and now everyone’s ragging on Julius for representing Kurt and just generally being a Trump voter. There’s a lot of heated and racial language I’m not going to type here, enough to make Julius spit out his coffee and storm down to the associate floor.

He goes to Devin, who I’m not sure if we’ve seen before but is high ranking enough to have Lucca’s old office, to get information on the anonymous posts.

Anonymous Bison says, “Unpopular opinion: I blame Adrian.” Hey, Anon Bison, let’s be friends! I am with you. Adrian is the one who brought Diane on, who encouraged them to lean into Julius’s Trump connections, and who pushed the firm to pursue profit over everything else. Diane and Julius aren’t blameless (though I don’t actually think defending Kurt is a bad thing) but if there’s someone who actively strategized to make RL what it is today? Adrian all the way.  

In what world does noting that Julius is pissed in an anonymous message do ANYTHING to stop people who are pissed at him? If they were that concerned about him being pissed they wouldn’t have said anything in the first place.  

Liz and opposing counsel talk over each other in court until the judge makes them stop. I think we’ve seen both the judge and opposing counsel this season, making me wonder if there’s a bit of a COVID bubble situation going on here with the guest stars.  

Judge Farley jokes about “contempt cards” that go up in value and Wackner, of course, is all, “Wow, I really love that.”  

Liz, whose entire strategy was to not let on that anyone calls Wackner a judge, refers to Wackner as “Judge Wackner.” Come on, Liz! (I buy that she’d slip up—there's no one in the world I wouldn’t believe slipping up—but ugh!)  

How did the opposition not realize that they could make this about Wackner’s “crazy court” by referring to him as Judge Wackner? You’d think they’d be all over that.  

Judge Farley looks SO unhappy that Wackner would refer to himself as a judge; it’s phenomenal.  

Now Marissa stumbles over stuff because she’s, for some reason, speaking in court. I bought Liz’s dumb moment more.  

The plaintiff’s strategy is to make it look like Wackner is of unsound mind, and they’ve got video evidence. Remember how Del, Cord, and Wackner all chatted in the RL elevator? Well, turns out that lead to a reality show about Wackner for Del’s streaming service. Sounds about right.  

I don’t really think Wackner cares about attention or anyone else’s motivations... I think he just likes the idea of budget and an audience and a platform.  

Liz meets Del for a romantic dinner and asks him when he was going to tell her about Wackner’s show. Del doesn’t understand why she’s upset. He doesn’t get why he would’ve needed her permission to go into business with Wackner. (I don’t think he’s wrong from a business POV, but from a relationship POV, he totally should’ve let her know!)  

Liz says he should’ve asked because they’re using it against her in court. “That is unfortunate, baby, but this streaming show could be really good for Wackner. It’ll draw attention to his court. And... as I say that...that sounds... okay, look I’m sorry,” Del realizes. I like that he sees that Liz has a point. He goes on to note that he would be totally open to Liz trying to go into business with any of his acquaintances, and I think he genuinely means it.  

Del notes that this is what “power couples” do. Oh? So they’re an official couple? Don’t power couples also associate in public and not hide their relationship from their colleagues?  

This is the place where I note, yet again, that it is always going to be more interesting to see a relationship that feels realistic than to see a relationship that feels like it takes place in a vacuum.  

Liz doesn’t want Wackner becoming popular. Del argues someone else would’ve made the show if he didn’t, and that “disrupters gotta disrupt.” Oh God.  

Are we going to remember that Liz has a child at any point this season?  

Diane is reading the Dawnk discussion at home. It’s still lively even after work hours. The associates appear to be discussing the vaccine before someone changes the topic to “the Diane situation.”

One associate notes that the partners probably aren’t happy about Diane either and just have to vote her out. Kurt arrives home as Diane reads this, reacts to the loud music Diane has playing, the open alcohol, and her general demeanor and asks if they’re getting drunk. “Are we getting a job with the NRA?” she counters.  

Turns out it’s not entirely untrue about Kurt and the NRA. They want him for a new role. It would pay $167,000. I can’t decide if I think that’s a lot (objectively that’s a high salary) or not very much at all (isn’t Kurt the top of his field?)  

Kurt notes he doesn’t have a job so he’s considering it. “Diane, our politics are very different,” he starts. “I know,” Diane says. “I’m, lately, struck by just how different they are.”

“I would just like one week when I don’t have to defend you,” Diane says in frustration. Kurt doesn’t even know what that means at the current moment.  

“You’ll tell me when they offer you the job?” Diane asks. “They may not offer it,” Kurt says. “No, they will,” Diane says, because she knows that it’s basically a done deal already.  

In the middle of the night, Diane turns to Kurt and tries to ask him a question. That wakes him up. She asks who he voted for in 2020 and he doesn’t answer. Uh oh.  

Dreaming now, Diane sits up and asks, “Hello? What do I do?” More on that later...

The HR nightmare known as Dawnk is still going wild the next day at the office. (Seriously, with HR that strict, the anon feature would’ve been disabled the second the first semi-controversial comment was posted.) Everyone’s obsessed.  

The partners, minus Diane, all gather in Liz’s office to discuss Dawnk (and the topics of conversation on Dawnk). Madeline says they should ignore it. I say they should make STR Laurie shut it down and be the bad guy. It is nonsensical that this workplace would continue to allow Dawnk to continue! In addition to being an HR nightmare, it’s also a drain on productivity if everyone’s constantly glued to it, and I imagine STR Laurie cares about profit more than anything else.  

But like I really don’t get why Madeline says they can’t censor their associates. Of course they can shut down the app if they want to! Someone put the app there in the first place, no? I do understand not wanting to look like you’re violating free speech (even though taking away anonymous commenting in the workplace would not be a violation of free speech) but I highly doubt it would be only the partners complaining. Tina, whose promotion was called into question, would be complaining too. Anyone trying to get work done, or anyone who didn’t like the toxic culture, or anyone who was uncomfortable with a joke made, would be complaining. There are more than enough reasons it would be perfectly acceptable to take the anon commenting away.

Now the partners are fighting about Kurt’s case too. “Diane is not responsible for her husband,” Liz says when Madeline says that Diane should’ve known better than to get involved. Um, Liz, Madeline is right. Diane isn’t responsible for Kurt’s actions but she’s sure as hell responsible for volunteering to represent him.  

“In the real world of this firm, Diane’s billable hours speak for themselves,” Liz notes when a partner tries to call Diane’s unsavory associations into question.  

“The rest of us put in the hours too, for the record,” notes another partner. I’m sure... but do you put in DIANE’S hours and have DIANE’S client list? My guess is no. If Diane weren’t the biggest earner at the firm we wouldn’t be having this debate. She’d just be gone. She’d never have been at the firm to begin with.  

“Liz, when I joined this firm, it was because of your father’s legacy. It was about Black civil rights, activism, justice. That’s what people talked about in meetings. Now, people talk about billable hours, million-dollar clients, corporate payouts. Now, I know it’s not your fault. That was Boseman’s vision and we were trying to survive the Trump years by bringing in white lawyers, but those days are gone. They’re done with. And I miss being a strong black firm,” Madeline says. Everyone but Liz (and probably Julius) seems to agree with that.

This is one of many interesting facets of this issue. When Madeline argues against Diane, she’s not just arguing that she wants a black person running the firm for optics. She’s not saying that Diane-but-black would be an acceptable choice. She is saying she wants RL to be the firm it was at the very very start of the show—a firm committed to social justice, not maximizing revenue. A firm that didn’t just accept every client that came their way because they love profit. A firm that stood for something. So my question is: Does Liz want that firm?  

Liz is hard to read throughout this whole plot, and I think that may be intentional. Liz isn’t a manager by training—she was an AUSA who suddenly became a name partner at a firm (if you want to talk about seniority and skipping the line, Liz is a way better example than Diane—you can even through some nepotism, twice over, in there). She doesn’t seem to have a clear goal for her firm other than maintaining the status quo and keeping power. Liz not taking a stronger stance from the start (either accepting that they are no longer going to be a social justice-oriented firm or pushing to get them back to that place) allows these kinds of questions to fester. It’s my hope that this becomes text instead of subtext pretty soon, ‘cause this is the kind of thing that if it’s subtext for too long will start to feel like bad writing/Liz being conveniently clueless. It’s way more interesting if Liz is just not yet good at being a manager... because she is learning on the job.  

Anyway. I think the ideal solution here is probably that Diane and Liz continue to run RL: A STR Laurie Company (the fact they’re owned by corporate overlords kind of makes any decision about RL’s mission moot) since Diane wants to do that and Liz seems to be content where she is. Madeline and the other partners, instead of trying to force STRL to let them pursue the cases they want, can accept pay cuts and go start their own firm. Maybe they can even team up with Barbara Kolstad!  

None of that’s to say that the dilemma here is easily solvable, nor is it to say that Diane shouldn’t consider stepping down. I’ll say more on that later. My point here is just that this issue is much deeper than just if Diane is on the letterhead or not. As long as they’re owned by STR Laurie and have clients like Rivi, Diane stepping aside would just be a band-aid.  

(And that, I think, is intentional... they’ve been building the “why are we even representing x?” tension pretty consistently this season, so I imagine it’s on the writers’ minds.)  

Diane stumbles across the secret partner’s meeting and knows something’s up.  

“You gotta handle this, Liz. You cannot have a white partner leading a black firm. We’ll lose clients with that kind of hypocrisy” Madeline insists after Diane heads back to her office. I’ve already said it, but just to say it in a less rambly way: Madeline is right, but she’s right IF AND ONLY IF the goal is to be a black firm. So, Liz, is it?  

(They’ll lose clients, sure, but which ones? They’ll lose the clients Madeline wants while Diane continues to keep bringing in business and Rivi and Cord and Wolfe-Colman and their elk* stay put.)  

*I know this is not the correct word; see 6x17 of TGW

David Lee has also noticed the meeting in Liz’s office and thinks this may be the “beginning of the end.” Diane glares at him and he says he was just joking.

Diane schedules a meeting with Liz. Liz’s assistant doesn’t know Diane by voice, adding to her frustration.

Credits! We are 22 minutes in! This might be a record if 5x01 hadn’t saved the credits til the very end!  

I’ve already written more than I did last week by a couple hundred words.  

Two interesting things about the credits. First, this episode was written by Aurin Squire. Forgive me if I’ve mentioned this in a prior recap (I know I thought about it but can’t remember if I deleted), but I think Aurin Squire and Davita Scarlett are key to why TGF and Evil are both always so good. They’re the two writers other than the Kings who are in both the TGF and Evil rooms, and they both REALLY seem to be on the same wavelength as the Kings. I imagine that having four people who are in both rooms helps with managing both at basically the same time.  

(This isn’t where I wanted to go with this bullet point, but I may as well shout out how great Evil is this season, too! It also just aired an episode by Aurin Squire about the lead white female character realizing her privilege!)  

Second, this episode was directed by Brooke Kennedy. I didn’t know that going in, but seconds before the director credit popped up, I was thinking to myself, “this episode feels like it’s going to be a very important one. I bet Brooke directed it.” I was very pleased to see her name appear.  

(For anyone who doesn’t know, Brooke is an EP who’s been involved in nearly every episode of both Wife and Fight and she tends to direct important episodes that require a lot of familiarity with the characters. She directed 5x15 of The Good Wife and she’s done a bunch of the premieres and finales that Robert King hasn’t claimed for himself.)  

Diane and Liz meet in a bar to catch up. Diane’s still staring at Dawnk. Liz takes her phone and silences the notifications. “Who thought that sound was pleasing?” Diane complains. “All day in court today,” Liz commiserates. Carmen had to teach her how to silence the notifications. Liz, you’re using an iPhone, there is a very easy to use switch that silences your phone, like you would need to for court. I know you know this.  

(I think Diane, despite her complaining about the sound, is captivated by Dawnk.)  

Liz orders soda water instead of a drink. I assume that’s intentional, perhaps because she knows this isn’t going to be an easy conversation or a long night of drinking? She has wine in an earlier scene.  

I love that Liz and Diane chat about Dawnk even though there’s no real plot reason for them to spend this much time discussing it. Little moments like this make me believe Liz and Diane are actually colleagues who get along well and make management decisions together.  

Diane asks if Liz thinks Dawnk actually increases productivity. Liz laughs—she does not. But she knows the associates would “riot” if they got rid of it. She’s right. I still think they can get rid of it without too much blowback. But at least they’re acknowledging this.  

“What do the partners think?” Diane asks, very intentionally shifting the subject. You can hear it in Christine’s voice and see it in her body language—Diane is looking for an opportunity to talk about what she wants to talk about.

“God, Madeline can’t even open it. She’s lost her password three times. She finally just gave up,” Liz says. This is concerning! Madeline should know how to open an app! Probably not unrealistic, though. When you’re that senior, you probably don’t need to know how to use a messaging app. And messaging apps can be confusing sometimes. Like, I still don’t understand how to use Discord.  

The captions have a line I can’t hear in this scene—Liz (I presume?) saying “You know, ‘cause it’s Madeline.” This makes it sound like Madeline is a little less than competent, no?  

“Thanks for sitting down with me, Liz,” Diane says in a quite serious tone. “Of course. So, you’re wondering about the meeting today?” Liz immediately understands. “I am.” “Yeah. Uh, it was about Julius. He’s being harassed on Dawnk,” Liz explains.

“Okay, and I couldn’t be a part of that?” Diane wants to know. “He’s being harassed because he’s defending your husband,” Liz explains. Diane doesn’t seem surprised (perhaps because she, too, would have read these messages?). “Well, that’s unfortunate. We’ve represented people far worse than Kurt, who, by the way, was found innocent,” Diane argues like they’re having a very different conversation. It’s one thing to represent rapists and murderers and drug lords—and I’d argue that the same people pissed about Kurt are also pissed about them!-- and another for your leadership to be married to/close friends with someone who you believe participated in the events of 1/6.  

“I’m not saying it wasn’t. But, January 6th. I mean, we watched the Confederate flag make its way into the Capitol building. You know, those people that Kurt didn’t want to turn over to the FBI, those people. They don’t even want us alive,” Liz says better than I ever could. I think it’s important that Liz mentions a POV that likely wouldn’t have ever crossed Diane’s mind here. This is a small glimpse of why it could be so important to have black leadership at a black firm. Would Diane be thinking about the implications of having the Confederate flag in the Capitol? Probably not in the same way that Liz instantly does.  

“Well, not all of them,” Diane Lockhart, who is suddenly an idiot, says. Liz looks at her drink and grimaces, and Diane realizes she’s said something wrong. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I’m certainly not defending those people. They’re all despicable traitors.”

“And now, that’s what people are saying about Julius,” Liz explains. “And me?” Diane asks, though she already knows the answer. Liz doesn’t want to answer that. Before she can say anything, Diane asks if she’s being pushed out.  

“No. Not pushed out. You’re a name partner. You can’t be pushed out,” Liz clarifies. Diane knows there’s a but. “The partners just think you should do the right thing,” Liz adds.

“And step aside?” Diane asks. “No. Stay in the firm. Stay as an equity partner, just step back from your managerial role,” Liz says. Diane pauses. “Liz, I... I pull in the big clients. I... I get the billable hours. But still, ‘maybe you should step aside.’ Weren’t we going to form a firm led by women?” Diane argues. Oh, wow, I have so much to say.

First, I completely understand why Diane doesn’t want to give up her title or her power. She's Diane Lockhart! She’s been one of the best in her field for decades. She’s not wrong about the clients and billable hours. It’s just that every time Diane decides to be at this firm, making arguments about how she should retain her role in power, she’s saying that she values her own career/appearance more than the values she claims to care about. And every time she refuses to take a back seat or threatens to walk rather than sacrifice, she’s saying she’ll only through her weight behind her colleagues and their mission if she gets credit for it. To be clear, I don’t think it would be the shittiest decision in the world if Diane decided to walk, to take her clients to a new firm and to let RL become the firm Madeline and the rest envision. It’s asking a lot of her to give up that power and prestige. The interesting part of this dilemma is, to me, that Diane claims to value working for RL and to be active in the fight against racism... but the second she’s forced to choose between that fight and her own power, we all know what Diane is going to choose. There was never really any doubt. Diane doesn’t have to be on the forefront of this fight if she doesn’t want to... but she can’t claim to be invested in the fight if she isn’t willing to sacrifice, at all.

Second, LMAO at this firm led by women idea. Every time Diane talks about her firm led by women idea it sounds sillier! Not because a firm led by women is silly, but because Diane has a habit of saying this like it is a shared goal and each time she references it, it sounds less and less intersectional. For example, when she says it here, she’s essentially saying a firm led by women only has meaning if one of those women is a white woman (specifically a white woman named Diane Lockhart). Who’s to say that Madeline wouldn’t be made partner in Diane’s absence? Or Barbara (haha) or someone else we haven’t met? There is a very real possibility that Liz and another woman could run the firm and Diane would still be unhappy about it. Diane doesn’t ask Liz for a commitment that if she does step aside, her replacement would be female (idk if it’s legal to make this commitment but you get my point). Diane acts like asking her to step aside is already a betrayal of the female led firm.  

“And I hope that it will be,” Liz says, basically hinting to Diane that there are women in the world besides her.  

“But black women?” Diane says, agitatedly. “Diane, I... am not voting against you. I promised you that I wouldn’t. But there is growing anger here. They want to address it at the next partners' meeting. So just think about it,” Liz responds.

I think Liz is totally fair and forthcoming in this scene and strikes pretty much the right tone for this initial conversation. She gives Diane a choice and is honest with her.  

“You’re a good person,” Liz adds. Diane does a double-take, understanding that Liz is actually telling her “You are a good person, so you know that you absolutely need to step aside.”  

“No, I’m not!” Diane responds. As I said: Diane already knows what she is going to do. She needs to do mental gymnastics to excuse her actions, but her mind was made up before the question was even raised. (She did warn Liz in 5x01 she was going to fight any attempt to push her out.)

“Yes, you are,” Liz says again. She may as well be saying, “No, don’t try this. Everyone will think you’re in the wrong if you push this.”

Later, at home, Diane is doing some stretches on the floor and groaning. I don’t know if this scene is meant to show her age, but it does remind me that Diane is nearly 70 and started off this show by planning to retire. Retirement doesn’t seem to be an option for her here. (That’s fine by me; she is a workaholic whose career is her life.)

Kurt asks Diane what she wants to do. She says she wants to keep her name on the letterhead and “keep what I fought for.” Heh, I was just re-reading something I wrote about Cary a while ago and I’d pointed out that when Alicia and Cary discuss merging with what’s left of LG, Cary is also concerned about his name on the letterhead because even though he wants to change the world, he also cares about having power. It’s almost like Diane and Cary are really similar characters! (They are! That’s why the Diane/Cary moment in Hitting the Fan is so good!)  

Diane calls her position as name partner a fight against “gender and then age discrimination.” She isn’t wrong, especially when you consider how meaningful it likely was when she and Stern went into business together. It’s very easy for me to forget that when Diane has such an attachment to fighting for white women’s rights, it’s not just because she’s out of touch and selfish: it’s because that was something she personally had to fight for. That doesn’t make it okay that she seems to forget the concept of intersectionality (which she’s definitely aware of) the second anything challenges her own power, but it does explain why a firm run by women is so important to her.

Diane is not wrong that she deserves name partnership and she’s not wrong to not want to step aside. Yet, starting a war to retain her position as name partner is a CHOICE. The best thing for Diane to do here (morally, I mean) would be for her to step aside and throw her resources behind the firm’s new leadership, using her experiences and stature to benefit the firm (this would also be a way for her to cement her legacy and mentor a new generation of leaders). The best compromise, I think, would be for someone to leave the current firm—either Diane or the dissenting partners, probably Diane since Liz seems to agree with Madeline—without any hard feelings. The worst possible choice is for Diane to insist that this firm is hers and force every single tension at the firm to come to a head, screwing over Liz in the process and potentially permanently ruining the firm’s status as a black firm. Sooo... yeah.  

(I say it could ruin the firm’s status as a black firm because if Diane’s a white partner who happens to be there and the firm is mostly black, that’s one thing. If Diane is a white partner who fought all of the black partners to assert her own dominance over their firm... that’s hard to come back from. She can’t really call herself an ally, can she?)  

“Diane, this is the first time I’ve ever heard you sound defeated,” Kurt says. “Because I can’t win this,” she says. She insists she can’t even after Kurt tries to cheer her on (of course he does, he probably thinks having an all black firm is just identity politics and therefore worthless).

“You just don’t want to,” Kurt says. He is not wrong. This is a winnable fight for Diane. Liz is smart but Diane has the experience, the clients, the power, and her own reputation to use in this fight. Liz has her dad’s name (and I don’t think it would come to this, but Diane knows how she can pretty easily destroy Liz’s dad’s reputation). (Liz is great, don’t get me wrong. Liz is also someone who happened into a name partnership because her dad was important.)  

“It’s bigger than that. To fight this would go against every fiber of my being,” Diane says. “Every fiber in your being is about winning,” Kurt counters. Oh, damn. That’s a succinct way of putting it. He is completely right. Diane would love to think that every fiber of her being is about her commitment to social justice and women’s rights. It is not. If that were the case, would she really be a lawyer with clients like ChumHum, Bishop, Sweeney, Rivi, and Wolfe-Colman? We all know the answer to this. We all know Diane likes social justice a lot but winning, wealth, and power far more.

When I first watched TGW, now nearly a decade ago, I was a high schooler and my media diet mostly consisted of Desperate Housewives and a bunch of procedurals like Bones and Castle. The thing that hooked me about TGW—more than Alicia’s journey, more than anything—was that TGW never had easy answers to anything. Will tells Diane in 1x07 that “nothing here is pure and nothing here is simple” and that basically blew my mind. TGW always made it obvious that Will was morally gray, which fascinated me. But I struggled with Diane. Here was this woman who looked like she should be someone so impressive and inspirational I could write a college admissions essay about her (I did not, but that was my frame of reference at the time)… but the decisions she made... never seemed all that great?? I couldn’t comprehend it.  

When Blue Ribbon Panel aired in March 2012, I wrote to a friend, “Diane confused me a little bit tonight. She didn’t approve of Alicia standing up to the panel, and yet, she’s supposed to care about people, the truth, morality, etc etc. I never understand Diane’s motivations– is her philosophy to help others whenever it wouldn’t hurt her, personally, to do so?”  

At that point, Diane compromising her values struck me as something confusing because I wanted to think of her as a powerful role model and icon, and I didn’t know what to do with someone who looked like and often was role model material who also sometimes betrayed her values for her own self-interest. I had my analysis of Diane down: she her motivations ARE to help others whenever it wouldn’t hurt her, personally, to do so. All I needed to do was remove my question mark from the end of that thought.  

I promise I’ll move on from quoting myself, but I also want to share a paragraph I wrote about Diane in March 2014 (during season five of Wife) because it says what I want to say now as well as anything I could write today:

Diane is driven and ambitious. Her initial actions can come as the result of intense emotions, but given enough time and space, Diane will always be strategic and pragmatic when it comes to business. She’s spent her entire life putting her career first, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. That she found love is just icing.  Kurt aside, the two most important things to Diane are advancing her own self-interest and doing good in the world. These objectives appear to be a contradiction, and often, they are. Nine times out of ten, when it comes down to it, she’ll choose herself. I mean no judgment here: another central aspect of Diane’s character is that she’s upfront about her choices and stands by them, and this sort of moral ambiguity makes for a great character.  

The reason I quote myself here is not to be like, ha ha, I was right. It's because I think this episode is even more powerful because I can copy/paste in stuff I wrote nine years ago or seven years ago (oh god, 2014 was seven years ago?) verbatim and it can hold up as analysis. Both Fight and Wife have always implied Diane’s selfish side and given more than enough evidence to make a convincing argument about it, but they’ve never really engaged with it directly (and if you ask the social media teams for either show, Diane is a #queen who can never do wrong). This episode interrogates something that’s always been an unpleasant part of Diane’s character, and I’m so fucking glad about it.  

(I don’t think anyone’s accusing Diane of not growing as a person but it crossed my mind that this could be seen as lack of growth. I don’t think it is. I wouldn’t expect Diane to change. Her life and career are so set that growth on this without a LOT of struggle on her part would feel like a cop out.)  

Another reason I quote myself is to highlight how friggin’ character driven this episode is. I’ve seen a lot of people saying this episode felt like old-school TGW—and it absolutely does; that’s also how I felt—and I think that’s because it’s so character focused and meaty.  

But back to this scene. Kurt tells Diane that if she doesn’t try to win she should just give up entirely. Seems like bad advice.  

“Kurt, I appreciate the pep talk, but I don’t think the way you think. I cannot put my interests above a whole group of people—black people—just so I can keep my position.” Sure you can, Diane. You just don’t like to believe that about yourself. You know how Diane says to Kurt earlier that she knows the NRA will offer him the job? That is how I feel about this scene. The writers go to great lengths to explain where Diane’s head is at when she decides to fight for her partnership, but they’d have needed to do ten times more to get me to believe Diane would step aside voluntarily.  

Kurt basically thinks that Diane should fight because if her competition is actually talented enough to deserve name partnership, they should fight her for it. He’s missing the point here.  

“But a black person’s talent has always been valued less than mine,” Diane counters. The fact she knows and understands this makes her decision even less forgivable.  

Kurt knows he’s going to lose this argument and tries the same strategy he did on 5x01: telling Diane she’s right and should just give up and leave the firm. Diane doesn’t like that answer either.  

Given how much I loathed Jay’s hallucinations, I was expecting that when Diane asks Kurt in the middle of the night if he believes the election was stolen and then sits down at her fireplace to have a chat with Ruth Bader Ginsburg, I’d loathe what happened next. I did not! I actually really liked it!  

I think this is more effective than Jay’s hallucinations, at least for me, because it's less gimmicky. It isn’t played for humor or quirk, and it gets to the character-driven point a LOT faster. This feels more similar to Alicia imagining Gloria Steinem is telling her she’s good enough to be on the Supreme Court in 6x03 than it does to Jay’s hallucinations.  

I LOVE that Diane would dream that RBG would advise her on her work dilemma. Dream!RBG tells Diane that “any law firm would be insane to let you go.” (I don’t wanna spend too much time fighting dream logic, but I feel like the operative phrase here is ‘let you go’. Are the RL partners seeing this as letting Diane go? Or are they just trying to get at a different goal and Diane is in the way, and they don’t really care if Diane has top connections or billable hours? It’s almost like the other RL partners want a firm that stands for something and all Diane has stood for thus far at the firm is profit...)  

Diane pushes back on RBG and RBG shares her “real” thoughts. This is where this sequence clicks into place for me, because it’s working on a LOT of levels. Obviously, Diane is going to imagine that her hero tells her to do exactly what she wants to do (the aforementioned mental gymnastics). But without losing the level on which this is dream!RBG and filtered through Diane’s POV, the writers are also... criticizing RBG for not stepping down herself!? It’s fascinating and pointed and makes her the exact right choice to play Diane’s conscience.  

Dream!RBG shares her life story and notes how she was always asked to step aside, but she didn’t and that’s how she got to be RBG. “Don’t step aside because someone wants you to. Don’t step aside for politics. Men are always asking women to step aside so a man can go first,” RBG advises Diane. Even Diane knows that this isn’t exactly equal to her current situation-- “Even though I’m being asked to step aside so that a black person can take my place?” she counters.  

So RBG asks if Diane can still do something “for women” if she says. Diane says yes, and RBG says Diane should do that instead of stepping aside—she should do whatever it takes. That’s the wrong takeaway, Diane! If you want to do something for women then a) you could do something for the black women at your firm lol or b) you could politely remove yourself from the firm, encourage your most profitable clients to stay on if they are wanted by the other partners or and/or c) you could choose to bring your talent and your stature to a non-profit. But, of course, these options aren’t on the table. There’s a reason the options are leave and lose everything or stay and fight for name partnership, and it’s that Diane cares about maintaining control of what she sees as hers and winning more than she cares about anything else, including or even especially her desire to help women.

And also what women is she even helping at RL? Herself? She’s certainly not helping Wolfe-Coleman's rape victim. The closest she’s recently come to helping women is when she told off Weinstein’s lawyer and tried to start #MeToo... in a DREAM.  

The score for the next sequence sounds so familiar and I can’t place it. At first, I thought it was Hitting the Fan, but I’m not sure if that’s the right reference (also, damn, the Hitting the Fan score is REALLY GOOD!). I think it might be similar to 5x14 when Alicia’s pacing back and forth in the hotel room.  

Anyway, Diane starts meeting with her (white, male) clients to tell them about how she’s stepping aside. She hasn’t run this past any of the other partners, of course. She’s doing exactly what they want, in the most malicious and calculated way possible.

One of her clients is a fracking client who wants to win over democrats by being a RL client.  

Diane is so sneaky here! No one said that if Diane steps aside as partner she can’t handle the day to day on her cases... yet that’s what Diane tells this client since she knows it’ll make him mad!  

Diane makes a point of showing her fracking client that his new representation will be Madeline. He doesn’t know anything about Madeline, and, as Diane was likely counting on, he isn’t confident in having a black woman he’s less “comfortable” with on his cases. I don’t know if Diane was going for the racial element here, but... if you’re really concerned about continuity, you don’t have this meeting without having Madeline ready to jump in and show she’s read up on the client. I’m sure it’s possible that Diane meant nothing in giving this client only Madeline’s name, title, gender, and race to go off of, but is that likely?  

She hands another (white, male) client off to Julius, whom she describes as a “very competent lawyer.” What an introduction. She says she’s not retiring and the firm “just wants to let some other people step forward into a name partner position.” Diane knows how to sell clients on changes they won’t like. She knows this isn’t how you do it.  

That phrase, “comfortable with you” is doing a lot of work, no? Both clients so far have said it, and while it might not be racially coded... it’s racially coded.  

“Who should we call about it?” the clients ask. Diane can barely keep herself from smiling.

They call David Lee, immediately. He takes the call in the middle of a meeting, while someone else is talking—he is David Lee, after all.

The information on the screen in David’s meeting is quite interesting. It’s about STRL’s plans for RL. Here’s how the firm is described: “RL is a high-end mid-sized Chicago law firm that can consolidate its specialized brand within the American POC community and expand its national and global brand with STR Laure.” Soooo... yeah. For the corporate overloards, RL needs it to be just black enough that it appears like a black firm, but they care more about appearances and branding than anything of substance. (Notice how it says “POC” and not black? Notice how there’s this mention of national and global presence that doesn’t seem to be on the RL partners’ mind?)  

There’s an area called room for growth, listing top clients—entertainment law, fracking, the DNC, and civil cases against CPD. Interestingly, two of these are Liz’s clients (entertainment and DNC), one is Adrian’s (civil cases against CPD), and only fracking is Diane’s... so maybe I didn’t give Liz enough credit earlier.  

There’s also a plan of action that includes partners working with STRL and the 15-20% layoffs we already know about. I don’t think this text is meant to include any new info, but I assume one of the writers had a hand in writing it and it’s a good way of confirming things that had been subtext.

Wackner’s reality show looks... well, like his court, because his court always looked like a reality show. Cutting together the most out-there moments (audience reaction cards, Wackner singing “Come on defense!”, Wackner renaming himself Judge Shmuley for a day) makes Wackner look pretty bad.

Hey Liz, I thought you figured out how to silence your notifications for Dawnk permanently. (It’s not all high-stakes controversy over on the “R&L General” channel—the anon animals are now discussing a broken coffee maker.) (Though even this discussion is a bit political! Anon Owl says they bet STR’s coffee machine works, and Anon Dolphin wants to know why they don’t have more coffee maters at RL.)  

There’s also a dance party—which Marissa participates in—in the footage of Wackner.  

Hey, wouldn’t Marissa have reported the cameras to Diane and Liz? I feel like she’d know they’d want to know.  

Wackner ends up on the stand to offer context for the strange-looking clips. In a smart move, Liz offers to just let Judge Farley ask questions—she knows that’s what Farley is really after.

Unsurprisingly, Wackner’s context makes his outrageous practices seem much more reasonable. There’s a scoreboard to keep lawyers aware of where they’re standing so they can gauge instead of guess at Wackner’s thought process. Shmuley is to honor a recently deceased relative. The costumes are to prevent bias and cut down entitlement.  

Plaintiff’s counsel argues that Wackner is biased and the case continues even though Wackner’s (mostly) won over Farley.  

The case next turns to something about copyright law that sounds downright silly—the point is to underline that Wackner’s court makes more sense than real court on some things. It makes more common sense and it’s less racist.  

Del gets called into court. It’s interesting how these scenes are blocked together rather than spread out. The same is true of Diane’s scenes—after credits, we have Diane and Liz at the bar, Diane at home, Diane talking to RBG, Diane making moves, and then David Lee becoming aware of the situation. Then we have several consecutive court scenes (all of which feel like they have natural break points) of Wackner stuff. If I had to guess, I would guess that it’s to keep the momentum going. The Diane stuff plays better when it feels like a continuous chain rather than a subplot.  

(The only thing that suffers is that I have no idea why there’s a court scene about copyright law right after the plaintiff argues they have evidence about Wackner’s bias? I probably wouldn’t have even noticed if the scenes had been spread out more.)  

Now Cord’s involvement with Wackner’s court becomes an issue. It’s funny they need a witness to bring up Cord when Cord is SITTING IN THE COURT ROOM.  

Apparently Cord is financing a company that would compete with the plaintiff’s company and this means Wackner is biased. As the next scene will explain, Cord wasn’t even aware of his investment in the rival company, and Wackner certainly wasn’t. But, regardless, it’s going to be challenging to prove that neither Wackner nor Cord knew about the investment, and the opposition is going to go after Cord’s financial records, which no one wants. Liz suggests a continuance, which would give Wackner about a year to keep working on his court before they have to come back to this issue.  

Wackner HATES the idea of delays and is all, THIS IS WHY I HAVE MY OWN COURT and again, he isn’t wrong.  

David Lee needs to see Liz, now. Liz and Diane meet in David Lee’s office and stare at their phones. Diane says she has no idea what the meeting is about, even though she basically set up the meeting herself.  

“What the fuck is going on?” David Lee says. Diane feigns surprise and asks for more specifics. David Lee reveals that four top clients have called with issues about their representation shifting.  

Liz knows what’s going on and aggressively says, “Diane, thoughts?” “Nothing from me. I met with my clients. I just told them of a restructuring that I was being told about,” Diane says like it’s no big deal. Liz and Diane both know that Diane forced this meeting.

“Is this a power play on your part?” Liz asks Diane. “No, it’s just updating my clients,” Diane says for David Lee’s benefit or commitment to the bit or something. It is definitely a power play, and a nearly unforgivable one done to an ally.  

“David, Diane was told about frustration at the partner level about a white woman being a name partner in a black firm. And apparently, this is her response,” Liz explains. “I just told our clients what was going on,” Diane defends. David Lee doesn’t really care about what happened: he cares about one thing, and that thing is money.  

“Diane’s a fucking name partner until STR Laurie says she’s not. No one decides until I decide. Now stick your race war back in its bottle,” David Lee says. I mean, basically, yeah, that’s what happens when you merge with a huge firm that only cares about profit.  

I like that this ends up coming back to STRL. You can’t really have a conversation about RL’s identity without also acknowledging that RL is not independently owned. Sure, STRL will care at some point if RL loses its clout with the black community—but like most companies, they care about guaranteed loss of profit and the short term more than long-term what-ifs. It may sound cynical, but if Madeline and all of the other partners quit, STRL would simply put all their effort into keeping Liz or even just the Reddick name and would then hire black lawyers who think more like Julius than Madeline to keep the reputation. STRL does not give a shit about helping anyone, and that’s what Diane counts on.  

I do not believe the version of RL that Madeline wants can exist when they’re under STRL’s control. I believe the version Diane wants (not really a black firm) can, and I believe the version Liz seems to want (one that’s mostly black and occasionally social justice focused) can, but this issue won’t go away until STRL does.  

Sure, Diane, keep telling yourself you’re fighting the good fight out here.  

(Perhaps “The Good Fight” is a more ironic and fraught title than it originally seemed.)  

“That was a mistake. I am on your side, and you don’t even realize it,” Liz tells Diane afterwards. Interesting that Liz says “I am” and not “I was.” I would love to know what Liz really thinks about this situation and hope we get more from her POV next week. I think Liz wants to run a black firm, but I also think she wants to run a successful firm and likes working with Diane. Liz is on Diane’s side about as much as she can be while still advocating for Diane to step down.  

Pissing off Liz is a very interesting move for Diane here, too. Diane wants to fight the one person who is on her side for control of a firm that doesn’t want her there, and she’s convinced herself this is the smart move! Kind of wild. What does Diane think the day to day will look like? I think I said this above, but in forcing this war, Diane is all but guaranteeing that if she wins, RL will only be a black firm in that STRL will say it’s one to make more money.

Julius and Diane chat next. Julius says he wants to start his own firm—with Diane. Her only reaction is laughter, but, like, this is probably happening. I’m not sure why she laughs. It’s not quite a case of unfortunate timing (Diane could’ve done this before she blew things up, and it’s not quite too late for Diane to commit to leaving and smooth things over with Liz), so maybe it’s just a “well, this sounds familiar!” laugh.  

(If you think of Previously On as 5x00 instead of 5x01, that would make this episode 5x05, which would make this a Hitting the Fan callback. I can also do mental gymnastics!)  

The episode could end there, but it doesn’t. We’ve still got a Wackner plot to resolve. Cord has some people beat up the plaintiff as a way of enforcing Wackner’s verdict and getting the real court case to go away. Marissa picks up on what’s happened faster than Wackner does, unless Wackner just doesn’t care.  

It’s subtle, but throughout this episode, there’s a little bit of a trend towards Marissa becoming more skeptical of Wackner. She tries to keep him under control in court, tries to reason with him about the continuance, and in this scene, she just looks entirely displeased and alarmed every time she’s on camera.  

We get another scene with RBG. “It’s different for me than it was for you,” Diane says. She notes that unlike RBG, she herself is up against another “dominated culture.” This other dominated culture is “black lawyers.” (I’m sorry, I just find the way she says “black lawyers” funny, partially because she says “lawyers” instead of people and partially because Diane seems insistent on only occasionally remembering that Liz is both black and female.)  

I can’t tell if this scene was originally intended to close the episode or not. The blocks of scenes, the way the episode seems like it should’ve ended with Julius’s laugh but instead has three more scenes (guy getting beat up, Wackner’s court, this one), and the fact the Kings said this episode had to be almost totally rethought because both Christine and Audra had concerns about the original script all suggest to me that maybe some of the scenes in this episode got shuffled around to keep momentum and hit the right notes at the right time.  

Diane acknowledges that RBG could’ve stepped down and we wouldn’t have a conservative majority on the court now if she had. RBG insists that she wouldn’t have stepped aside even if Obama had guaranteed that her replacement would be black. She says it’s because she only knows what she can do—not what others would do. And “what you know is always better than what might happen.”  

Even if this was originally supposed to happen earlier (Diane saying she doesn’t know what to do makes me feel like it way), I like that we get to see it’s still weighing on Diane after the fact.  

(Also, I have seen some comments about, for lack of a better phrase, the girl power energy of these Diane and RBG scenes. No! These scenes aren’t a tribute to RBG! She’s in these scenes because she didn’t step down and can thus help Diane excuse her own actions! These scenes aren’t exactly anti-RBG, but they are certainly critical of some of her choices!)  

The topic shifts to Diane and Kurt’s relationship (another reason to put this somewhere other than the main part of the episode; this would slow down the momentum of the middle part of the episode) and its similarity to RBG’s friendship with Scalia.  

Tbh, I don’t think a friendship and a marriage are all that similar on this front and I’d be curious to see Diane think about RBG/Scalia in the context of her potential partnership with Julius rather than her marriage.

RBG basically tells Diane to stay with Kurt. Diane thanks her, and then, back in reality, tells Kurt to take the NRA job so he’ll be happy—and then she’ll just sue him. Okay, that feels like an episode ending, so I am REALLY curious about all the re-writing and re-structuring that happened in this episode and what did/didn’t get touched. I can’t make up my mind about what feels out of place.

So we start out with Diane feeling like it might be the right thing to explore whether or not it still makes sense for her to be with Kurt, a suspected insurrectionist and future NRA employee, and Diane feeling like she wants to help her friends and partners at her mostly black firm do good in the world. And we end with Diane doubling down on her relationship with Kurt, giving her blessing for the NRA job, and fucking over her colleagues because she wants to keep her own power. Dark! I love it.  

This episode does this all without making Diane entirely unsympathetic, which is astounding. While I think Diane knowingly makes choices that further her self-interest over the values she (claims to?) hold and I am definitely NOT Team Diane on her decisions in this episode, this episode could easily have been less interesting and complex. It’s understandable that Diane would not want to step aside from a firm she’s helped build—who would? It’s understandable that Diane might not feel the passion for a black firm the way she does for a female firm. It’s understandable that Diane might not want to blow up her marriage, despite her political differences from Kurt. This episode allows Diane to be just sympathetic enough she never becomes a flat villain, but never sympathetic enough that someone could mistake this episode for one that shows Diane as a morally pure hero. Personally, I love that in a TV show. That’s the exact kind of writing that made me love Alicia Florrick enough that I still spend a considerable amount of time thinking about her character arc even though TGW ended half a decade ago. It’s what’s been missing from a lot of TGF episodes for me, and why I’ve said that TGF seems like a show more about theme than character. It’s why I’ve written—oh god, TEN THOUSAND words—about this episode.  

I have no clue what’s going to happen next, but I hope it includes more character-driven drama (ideally with a lot of good material for Liz) and not a lot of firm-jumping shenanigans.  

[chaoticneutralwriter]

The Calm

And it’s this quiet moment that you cherish the most.

guardian demon!jimin x reader

genre: supernatural, romance, angst, slow-burn, comedy, fluff

word count: 7.5k

related works: see Masterlist under guardian demon!jimin au

Continuation of: First Bite and A Small Death (M)

Warning: pillow talk so some suggestive content, but other wise fluffy and domestic af

A/N: AAAAAAAAAAAAAA HAPPY HOLIDAYS!🎄🎁☃️ AM I TOO LATE FOR AN UPDATE?? LOLL It’s not necessarily Christmas themed but I had anticipated I could get this done at least by then to post so...does this count as a present? dkshg I’m so sorry it took so long 😩 the last few weeks got me feeling in some type of funk where sometimes i wanna do something and other times it’s just ‘i know i gotta do this thing but...i don’t wanna’ so please excuse if there’s any typos i might’ve not caught and if the chapter seems very stop and go sdfkjshg Once again, thank you guys so so SO much for your endless love and support for this fic and for your endless patience! Stay safe, take care and have a restful week!

Tag list: @cherryjiminiee @kokobaekkie @breathebangtan @itsadoozie @thatshylatina @chiminieboi @azulamakesmeblank @sectumsemptae @awkwardwookie @aduky @poisonseashell @shortannoyingginger @caramelmac-chiato @sana-b @jiminstinct @beautifulparisiangirl @taelieninvader @ggukjitaejin @xakemi-chiix @vantaenims @atulipandarose​ @moments-of-melancholy @xclo02 @cherub-kookie @gottadreamitallaway​ @indiesy​ @disn3yfreak @oerangdoongi

You feel yourself stirring back into consciousness, becoming more aware of the soft duvet covers that cocoon you. On an inhale, you pick up the smell of fresh linen with an undertone of warm peppermint and cedar. It's nice, soothing and you bury your nose further in it. But it's definitely not what your bed sheets smell like.

Slowly, your eyes flutter open, vision blurred from the deep slumber you were in and the dimness of the room until you blink to adjust yourself. Through the sliver of thin curtains, you see the still darkened night sky – an endless sea of midnight blue with only the faint golden glow of the city building lights dotting along its surface like makeshift stars. The moon is full tonight, shining brightly and casting its pale rays onto the floor and walls though occasionally, it shies away behind wispy clouds that drift by.

Growing more awake, you begin to notice other things besides the time of day, like how these microfibre sheets were especially soft against your body, caressing your skin as if you're wearing nothing at all.

....Oh, you really were wearing nothing at all.

You pause to think, trying to get the gears working in your head before the memories start to jog again.

You remember meeting Jungkook at that fancy lounge, he had given you the address to where your guardian demon was staying (more like hiding). You had marched up, banging on his door and demanding him to explain why the fuck he would hide something as important as attempting to transition to a guardian angel –

Your eyes widen, a sick surge of panic rushing from your gut and you might've given yourself whiplash in your haste to see the other side of the bed, only to sigh out quietly, your palpitating heart settling back to a calm, steady beat. Carefully, you roll yourself over, shuffling closer and finally letting yourself take him in, like Psyche laying eyes on Eros for the first time.

He sleeps so soundly, almost angelically and you resist the urge to snort at the irony of that thought, but with the way his dark raven locks are tousled, strands falling over his forehead, delicate lashes brushing the tops of his cheeks and his full pink lips that are parted slightly as the moonlight kisses every inch of smooth skin the sheets aren't covering, you swear he could fool anyone into believing it, even heaven themselves.

You can't help but to bring a hand up to sweep away the stray hairs, allowing you a better glimpse of him. It's the first time you've seen him this relaxed, any sort of tension no longer marring his elegant face, like for once he doesn't have to put on a strong front and the sight has you bewitched, wanting to take in as much as you can. When your fingers gently glide down his profile, you're surprised they come away a little warmer. In fact, the more you look, you think his complexion has improved, a healthier glow compared to when you first saw him. Is it your imagination? Or the trick of the light? You lift your head to try and get a better look.

You feel him stir before you can be sure of it and you're met with obsidian irises that seem to bore into your soul. There's a slightly dazed look in his eyes that has a fond smile tug at the corner of your lips as you settle back down again.

“Hi.” You whisper, as if afraid you'll break the peace of the night.

Recognition flits through his gaze at the sound of your voice and he mirrors your smile, breathing a soft sigh. He lifts the hand that was resting on his stomach to take hold of yours resting on his cheek.

“Hey.” It comes out deep and husky; still heavily laden with sleep and raspy from disuse. He turns so that he's facing you properly, thumb stroking the back of your hand before he places a kiss on your inner wrist. “Thought I was dreaming for a second...”

You let out what can only be described as a mix between a throaty laugh and a garble, a rather unattractive noise that has you pulling your hand back to cover your face in embarrassment, cheeks heating up further when your muffled voice comes out extremely hoarse and cracks if you so much as raise it.

“You can't say that when you were literally sleeping like a French girl waiting to be painted.”

He chuckles, not hesitating to pull you into his chest and sneaking another kiss to your forehead. You snuggle against him happily, throwing your arm across his stomach and pressing your own lips to his collarbone in return as he slips an arm under your head to use as a pillow.

“You're one to talk.” You hear him say above you before adding teasingly, “When you're not stealing all the blanket.”

You lightly push your knuckles at his jaw but there was no real force or seriousness behind the reprimand; just a case of your usual banters acting up. He retaliates by playfully snapping his teeth at your hand, as if to bite the fingers and you pull back, squealing and giggling.

“No biting!”

“So no biting I see...Duly noted then.”

Your mouth drops open, scandalized as your gaze whips up, only to find him barely containing a suggestive smirk at you.

“...I don't like what you're implying...” You say, eyes narrowing even though you find yourself subtly sinking lower in an attempt to hide the blush you feel rushing up your neck. He catches you all the same, tilting his head as the lazy smirk grows.

“Oh darling I only say to better please you. Although,” He pauses, slowly, purposefully leaning down closer to you, a gleam in his eyes that you swear made his dark eyes deepen into a devilish crimson for a split second.

“We'll probably have to work on that stamina – can't have you tapping out just after three orgasms.”

You choke, completely flustered at such brazen and lascivious words that sound far too honeyed than they should be, making the memories seem all the more vivid in your mind. Your entire body feels incredibly hot suddenly and not knowing what to do, you whine helplessly and attempt to roll away from him but he holds onto you, the sounds of his laughter tinkling in your ears.

“You're not getting any of this blanket for that now.” You pout, bunching and tugging the sheets to your chest more.

“I'm just teasing love, I couldn't help myself!” He giggles, nuzzling into your shoulder. “Forgive me?”

You let the silence drag out for a few seconds longer before you sneak a peek over, letting out a snort when you see him blinking big puppy dog eyes at you. You're biting back a smile as you turn to face him again.

“You're lucky you're cute.”

His eyes crease up as he brings a hand up to cup your cheek, stroking the soft skin. You lean into his touch, watching him affectionately until you see his expression dim to something more sombre.

“I really am sorry Y/N.” He confesses quietly, voice tinged with a heavy guilt as his fingers move to play distractedly with your hair, gently tucking the loose strands behind your ear or brushing them off your shoulder. “I'm sorry I kept this from you for as long as I did....”

You open your mouth to speak, but stop midway. You'd be lying if you said that you're not completely over being mad at him for what he did, however, the initial anger had more or less simmered to a heartache you can't quite shake. You feel him beginning to withdraw his touch, perhaps misreading your silence as reopening a tender wound but you bring a hand up to entangle your fingers with his, keeping them in place.

“I know you said you did it to protect me but,” The sigh you let out holds a lingering sadness, “I still wished you had told me...” You chastised, stern yet gentle as you lock a steady gaze on him. “You really had me worried and scared. I thought something happened to you...like...” You swallow and he squeezes your hand lightly in comfort. “Like the night I found you...in my room.”

He nods, solemnly conceding and his eyes drift away, reflecting in his thoughts.

“I'm sure you figured by now; that night was when I had came back from starting the transitioning process.” He rolls until he's lying on his back, staring aimlessly at the ceiling and you shuffle closer in his loosened hold, not wanting to be apart from his warmth, listening. “Usually not a big deal....but for a demon, it was dangerous.” A rueful chuckle. “To be honest, I still don't know how I even survived...”

Your heart clenches at the thought and you bite your lip, pushing down the lump that's growing.

“But ever since then, my body's been...off, and it only grew worse each day – to the point where using my powers for even the simplest things put a huge strain on me.” He inhales deeply, as if he's trying to breathe past the weight that's been sitting on his chest. “I felt so exhausted all the time; I thought at this rate, I wouldn't be able to do anything. I wouldn't be able to protect you from the misfortunes that follow me and if I couldn't do that much, it would be better for me to stay away, keep you from the dangers and...” You see his jaw stiffen before he directs his gaze to the side, face turned away from you. “Keep you from seeing me this way; helpless, weak.”

The last few words come out as if he loathes to admit them aloud, voice tight. You hear how frustrated he is with himself and you're quick to assuage those tumultuous thoughts, rising so that you hover above his form to cup his face in your hands until your eyes meet, pulling him from the abyss.

“I would rather be in danger than have you risk your life.” You say, softening when you continue, “I don't want to lose you....You mean so much to me. Please don't ever forget that.”

Dark eyes, much like the starless night sky outside the window, widen fractionally. You fight the blush threatening to bloom across your cheeks, realizing how ardent you might've sound but you speak honestly, even if your heart feels like it's about to beat out of your ribcage at any moment. You think it speeds up when you see his mouth tug into a small smile and he leans up to brush his nose against yours tenderly, winding one arm around your waist to press you even closer to his body, half lying on top of him.

“I never would've thought in my lifetime I would find someone like you cherub.” He says in disbelief, free hand coming up to bury into the locks of your hair, palm resting on the back of your neck. “I've done nothing to deserve you.”

“Well, you're just gonna have to accept it.” You answer, planting a light kiss on the tip of his nose. “Because I'm not going anywhere.” You punctuate each word with a kiss to the apple's of his cheeks, forehead, over the lids of his eyes, and finally on pillowy soft lips. You can't help but linger there a little longer. When you pull away, it's to take in his visage, eyes travelling over his form before something catches your attention.

At first, you didn't recognize it; the blemish appearing more or less like a birthmark, however, you see the size it takes up on the left side of his chest and it's then you realize that it was the tattoo you had seen, only this time it appeared to be so much more faded, and in some places, the inky lines have disappeared altogether. You frown, troubled at having not noticed until now...or perhaps from the fact that you had entirely missed it because it was barely there anymore, you're not sure.

“I'm guessing this is because of the process too?” You ask, thoughtlessly tracing the pads of your fingers over what's left of the mark. He hums, the sound rumbling beneath your palm as his larger hand encompasses yours, holding it in place and you feel the steady beating of his heart.

“I'm not surprised, it's the mark of a demon after all.” He explains, none too bothered and lightly shrugging at that. When the hard line of your lips doesn't let up, he chuckles, reaching up to poke your cheek. “It's just a mark cherub, nothing serious. It's meant to distinguish our kind because of our ability to take on any human appearances.”

Still, you don't like how it's another glaringly obvious sign that your guardian demon's health is deteriorating, an unwanted byproduct to add to the pile that does nothing but taunt you. It has your thoughts straying back to the idea that you had your mind set on. You're very tempted to bring it up; wanting to desperately tell him that you might've found another way, that he doesn't need to endure any more pain or sacrifices for your sake, that for once, maybe you can do something for him after all he's done for you.

“Cherub?”

The soft call brings you back, eyes refocusing on the demon who blinks up at you curiously with the faintest hints of concern etched across his deceivingly delicate features. At the sight, you feel yourself melting, endeared and suddenly you can't bear to ruin this sweet moment with another heavy topic – you both had just came to terms and settled the whole guardian angel thing after all.

You'll tell him later, right now you'd rather be making up the lost time you could've had kissing and snuggling him.

So in the end, it gets pushed to the very back of your mind and you redirect to something else, “Sorry, I was just thinking about what you said; how demons can take on any human appearances. I'll admit, your Jimin look is impressive.”

You see him take pause, no doubt trying to process the flitting thought that has just passed before ultimately, he chooses to let it slide and allows you to pull him into your playful antics. The smug smirk that makes its way onto his lips has a coquettish one sneaking onto your own. “But,” you almost laugh at how fast he falters at the single word and your smile grows more and more teasing. “I'm afraid you got sloppy, with or without your mark I could easily tell you weren't actually Jimin.”

He scoffs, looking thoroughly affronted by your claims. “How? I think my look is pretty spot on.”

You hum, propping up a little more so that you can brush the dark strands of hair on his forehead with the tips of your finger. “True....But you could say almost too perfect. See, Jimin has a beauty mark here.” You gently tap on a spot just above his left brow and you giggle when the skin wrinkles up in his effort to follow your movement attentively. “And here...” Your finger lowers to the edge of his collarbone. “And one on the back of his neck. You only managed to get the one on his cheek right.”

The indignant grunt he makes lets you know he's pouting without you even having to look.

“His teeth aren't perfectly straight like yours either – one of his front tooth is slightly crooked.”

“...I do hope your interest in teeth won't go beyond that...”

You smack his chest lightly, kissing your teeth but otherwise make no further comment. “I think the last thing that gave you away is your choice in piercings...” You point out, brushing your thumb against the sensitive shell of his ear where the helix stud sits. “Jimin doesn't have this one anymore.”

“A shame really...” You hear the demon murmur and your eyebrows quirk, barely catching the way he swallows thickly, eyes darting off to the side.

You blink, wondering if you've made him self-conscious or uncomfortable in any way but little do you know, the demon is only relieved you hadn't noticed the goosebumps that have erupted over his arm at your innocent touch.

“You're right, and that's why I like it – the helix piercing.” You continue, smiling gently. “And everything else you missed. It's like your own kind of imperfections and preferences...it just proves that you're you, and not Jimin.”

You can't help letting your voice tether off into something much softer for the quiet confession hidden in those last few words.

You're the one I love.

Your stomach flutters with butterflies at the foreign feeling, shrinking in on yourself out of shyness and you know you really shouldn't be, but you're also nervous; for what you're not even entirely sure. Mentally, you scold yourself – you must seem like such a weird, emotional mess of a human being to him.

The rumbling vibrations of his chuckle catches your attention, as does the palm of his hand coming up to cup your cheek.

“Well, I'm glad that you're the one to differentiate the two of us.”

He doesn't need to say anything else because from the fond look in his eyes and the tender dulcet tone of his voice, you see and hear his unspoken response, how much it means to him.

Thank you for loving me, for me.

Your heart swells unbelievably in size that you're actually left a little breathless. The butterflies are going crazy now and so overwhelmed by your emotions but not knowing how to express them adequately, you bury your face into his neck and squeeze a tight hug into him. You get a breathy laugh in response and feel his strong arms squeezing you right back, his mouth pressing into the crown of your head. You stay like that for a while, simply taking in the scent that is so uniquely his. It never fails to relax every nerve in your body, and coupled with the rhythmic stroking of his hand through your hair, you find yourself struggling to blink away the heaviness that's starting to fall over your lids.

Your lips move in a drowsy mumble, sluggishly forming the beginnings of his name but then stopping abruptly. Lifting your head so that you can look at him, you're suddenly wide eyed with the realization.

“I should probably stop calling you 'Jimin' then huh?”

Obsidian eyes blink down at you, amusement shining in their depths for the way you seem so pressed about the issue, like you had offended him to the highest degree. Your chest moves in sync with the deep inhale he takes, watching as he languidly lifts his arm to tuck it behind his head, his expression shifting to something a little more pensive before he seems to reach a conclusion.

“As much as I appreciate the sentiment cherub, I think it's safer if you still continue to. When I said there is power to a name, I didn't mean so lightly. A demon can be overpowered or even banished should their true name be known; be it by a medium, an exorcist or –“

“An angel.”

The words slips out unconsciously in a small whisper, like you're afraid to speak it into existence.

“...Yes, especially angels.” He answers you like he was the bearer of bad news, only you knew that much already. You might not be an expert, but you think it's pretty basic knowledge that demons (and by proxy, other kinds of dark entities) can be expelled in some form or another – your past jokes and gibes at your own guardian demon were proof of that matter alone.

However, now you've been hit in the face with just how volatile that reality is; and all it would take is uttering his name to the wrong person.

“I won't let that happen.”

It's a promise, a vow; one you'll be damned if you broke. He smiles, endeared at your unwavering display of determination.

“I know you won't love, but regardless, if you ever find yourself in danger don't hesitate to call my name.”

Your brows furrow in protest. “But that's too –”

“No buts Y/N.” He gently reprimands you, curling a finger under your chin so that your eyes lock onto the firm gaze he fixes you with. “As your guardian; your safety is still and will always remain my priority.”

There's a finality with the statement that lets you know that no amount of arguing will change his mind on that and your mouth reluctantly falls shut. At your conflicted and crestfallen look, he softens.

“Hey.”

You perk up slightly and feel the featherlight brushes of his finger against the roundness of your cheek, a small placating gesture.

“Don't worry too much on it cherub, just something I want you to keep in mind yeah?”

You want to weakly retort that it's too late for that, mind already running amok with worse case scenarios. You don't get too far into it however, as fatigue rolls over you like a powerful wave, overtaking you in the form of a giant yawn that you struggle to stifle; the force of it has your whole body shuddering.

“We should really stop meeting like this, I'm afraid it's finally taking a toll on you.”

The disgruntled noise you let out gets muffled in with the last remnants of the tired exhale. You don't truly understand what he means until you blink away the tears, catching sight of a sleek digital clock sitting on the night stand, and squinting, you see the numbers illuminating in green reads 4:45AM.

You groan and feel as if whatever remaining energy you had is drained after knowing the time. Shutting your eyes, your body sags completely, half-draped unceremoniously over the firm body of your demon.

“Now, now princess, you'll regret falling asleep like this when you wake up.” You hear him tut before you feel yourself be moved, rolled to your side so that you lie properly on the mattress. You whine, was perfectly contented where you were but settle once you feel arms wrap itself around your waist, pulling you close and your face is once again buried perfectly into the crook of his neck, head resting on the pillow.

The calming scent of him along with his warmth and the plush covers cocooning you easily allows for sleep to pull at your lids once more, your own arms instinctively curling around him.

���Good?”

You hum, sighing out as your worries slowly muddle together into nothing more than a heavy fog and when he starts to run his fingers through your hair again, you're practically mush.

“...You never answered my question...” You murmur thoughtlessly, like a subconscious, knee jerk reaction born from a last minute need for some peace of mind before you finally succumb to the rapidly growing fatigue. His hand stills momentarily, and you're not sure if it's because he had barely made out your slurred words or if it's to recall the memory. There's a lapse in silence, how long you're not even sure at this point as you feel yourself drifting in and out of being awake, but then you hear it – sweet and wistful.

“...For as long as I'm yours, I'll stay.”

-

The next time you wake, it is to a warmth that you quickly find wasn't the kind you expected nor want. The soft rays of the sun easily pierces through the chiffon curtains that drape over the floor to ceiling windows in the bedroom, bathing the space in a golden haze and while often times, it leaves for an impressive view of the vast cityscape below, you're not entirely appreciative of the exposure it gives you now. Not only did it disrupt you from your peaceful slumber, it does little to hide the coolness you feel from the empty space beside you.

You sit up with a start, still dazed and stay there for a good minute, squinting through the light that's way too bright the same time trying to kickstart your mind into gear – you never were the best person to wake up, it took you forever to get yourself together. Eventually, your eyes begin to take in what's around you, the dark grey sheets that pool around your waist and finally getting a good look at the interior of the room.

It's ridiculously spacious, as is the bed you're sitting in, even from what little you had seen initially amidst the dim lighting along with the flurry of heightened emotions and passion. In fact, it looks a lot like a snapshot right out of a luxury home interior decorating magazine if you're going to be honest.

Off the bat, you can tell the colour scheme was mainly dark greys, creams, and blacks, accented by the same deep mahogany wood of the front door. It was also decorated simply with minimalistic styled furnishing. Aside from the low laying king sized bed, with its taupe coloured upholstered frame, a dresser sits across from you and in the far corner facing the large windows was a singular lounge chair with a small coffee table situated in front.

Turning your head, you see matching night tables, both with identical geometric lamps but one had the clock you spotted earlier, the time now reading 2:16PM. To your left, you notice a doorway situated perpendicular to the large windows in one corner of the room while to the right of you, there was another door and just ahead to the right was another. Immediately, you guess that these lead off to one of three places; a bathroom, a closet or the main hall leading out to the rest of the penthouse.

A shiver passes through you, causing you to momentarily shrink in on yourself and reminding you that you're still very much nude. Self-consciously, you tug the blankets around you back up once more, wearing it as a makeshift cape as you continue to glance around the room, now with more awake eyes. It's then that you finally notice your neatly folded clothes laying on the black cushioned bench at the end of the bed, and sitting just beside that pile was a plain black robe and towels. The rush of air through your nose barely concealed the quiet giggle seeping through – so sweet of him.

You should probably shower, you think. Though surprisingly, you don't feel as grimy as you would have thought but still, it'd be refreshing. You lean over until your hand reaches the robe, already loving the extremely plush softness you feel under your fingertips. It feels even better once you shrug it on, securing the sash around your waist and you honestly think you can fall right back asleep in it. A tempting idea, but you have more pressing matters. Niggling at the back of your mind, a part of you wanted to find your guardian demon first, to check up on him in the same manner he'd so carefully demonstrated upon your waking and confirm your comfort wasn't at the expense of his health. Plus – and even as you admit this, your heart traitorously flutters – you miss him.

You shuffle to the edge of the bed until you're able to swing your legs over, letting the soles of your feet touch the cream carpeting before you haul yourself up. You sharply inhale, halting in your steps at the popping of joints and a dull ache, the latter catching you off guard (and causing a mad rush of heat to your face) that you had to take a moment before tentatively continuing to the door farthest from you.

Just as your hand brushes the handle, your hair falls over your face and without thinking, you sweep it away but the motion makes you pause abruptly. Slowly, your mind jogs back up to speed, your fingers combing through the messy locks in an attempt to smooth it out and suddenly you need a mirror. Actually, never mind a mirror, you probably should at least brush your teeth before heading out so recklessly!

Shamefaced, you change course, heading straight to the door you guessed was the en suite bathroom. The moment you opened the door, you're immediately taken aback. Much like the bedroom, the bathroom was quite big and so cleanly decorated with wide windows that take up one wall, offering whoever that was soaking in the Jacuzzi bathtub the same expansive view as the bedroom. Aside from the tub, there was also a glass shower stall big enough to fit at least four people at once despite having a bench inside, the stone marble matching in colour with the twin sink counter and cool grey tiles.

It takes you a moment to compose yourself again from being awestruck with the excessive bathroom and after much careful rifling in the medicine cabinet, you find a spare toothbrush and a travel sized toothpaste pack.

Teeth brushed and a little bit more refreshed from a splash of water to your face, you finally poke your head out of the door your had initially set your sights on. You find your previous suspicions correct as laid out before you was a hallway, the walls a warm cream beige colour that matched the carpet that continued outside the bedroom and any doors were of the same mahogany wood. It wasn't fairly long as you see just not far ahead, the carpeting stops at a threshold of sorts and leads off to another open space with dark granite flooring. Immediately, you're drawn out without hesitation because from the small glimpse alone, your eyes were already bugging out of your head.

So by the time you actually reached the end, you swear your jaw just about dropped off its hinges. The space you stumbled into was a living room, the size alone you think equalled to your kitchen, living room and bedroom, with its high ceilings, so tall that there's room to hang an equally large linear chandelier without appearing claustrophobic (in fact, the lighting fixture itself looked as if it could pass off as an expensive art installation) and if you had thought the view in the bedroom was extreme, you've been proven sorely wrong.

One side of the room is entirely made up of floor to ceiling windows, making the view even more vast with nothing obstructing it that if you had peered over, you would believed you were simply floating on a cloud in the sky, truly suspended in mid-air. Mounted on the wall adjacent to the panel of large glass was a sleek, electric fireplace, the flames dancing over small, white pebbled stones rather than wood and at the centre were long velvet couches surrounding a simple wood coffee table, all encircled by a lush white fur rug.

What's more, the other thing that had caught your attention was the set of floating stairs that lead up to another level of the penthouse – leading to what you're not sure. With your eyes so busily roaming about the entire area, you had failed to notice the person you've initially set out to look for until the very last moment, finally spotting his figure ahead in the kitchen situated under the large landing of the stairs. His back was turned towards you so all you saw was his tousled raven locks, the faint twinkling of his silver chained earrings and a loose fitting white tunic. Automatically, you smile, your heart easing and suddenly the splendour of this luxurious penthouse means nothing to you.

Despite your approach being fairly quiet, you knew it was no match for the heightened senses of a demon and without surprise, you see him turn his head slightly to acknowledge your presence just as you reach the island counter separating you from him.

“Slept well cherub?” He asks with a charming quirk of his lips.

You seat yourself on the breakfast stool, propping your arm on top of the marble counter top and hum, pretending to think.

“For Egyptian cotton, it wasn't too bad I guess.”

You get a chuckle from him before he turns his attention back to what's in front of him, and it's then that you smell the cooking of eggs and bacon. Instantly, your stomach gurgles, demanding to be fed and your cheeks colour at the loud sound it made. There's no way the demon in front of you could've missed it, even if he didn't have supernatural hearing. So as if prompted, he lifted the sizzling pan and dispensed its contents onto a pristine white plate sitting beside the stove, just as the toaster pinged.

You watch him take the single slice between his fingers before he faces you once more, presenting you a plate of creamy scrambled eggs, strips of crispy bacon and perfectly golden toast on the side.

“Sorry if it's a little lacking. I've found that throughout the years, I don't have a good grasp of flavours humans enjoy.” He apologizes. “Eggs and bacon are the few dishes you can't really go wrong with.”

You suppress the snort, accepting the plate gratefully nonetheless and not minding his forewarning – it made sense after all so you assured, “Hey, at least it looks edible and cooked well; already better than my own scrambled eggs and bacon.”

The smile he gives you makes his eyes crease into crescent moons, his cheeks rounding with a glimmer of mirth that makes him appear very boyish. He hands you a silver fork pulled from one of the drawers.

“Very sweet of you cherub.”

Your eyes squint and your cheeks puff up from the force of the exaggerated, syrupy sweet smile you give him, wiggling in your seat like a cheeky five year old as you lift your hand to take the utensil. You miss the crooked stretch of his lips so before you could close around the fork, he pulls it out of reach and lightly bonks the back of your hand with it. The shock of the metal hitting your knuckle jolts you and your eyes snap open in an instant, mouth open.

“Jimin!” You say, aghast but the sound is more or less void of any real offence as you act out cradling your 'injured' hand.

All he does is bark a single laugh and gesture to the fork for you to take again. “Eat up, food's getting cold.”

Not like you needed to be told twice, if not by Jimin then the sounds of your growling stomach. You gratefully begin to chew on the eggs and bacon (albeit they were on the bland side, but food is food and you ate happily). Meanwhile, Jimin busies himself making a cup of tea for you after he had asked your preferences and as he does, you both chatted, mainly about this apartment you didn't know he had.

“I rarely have any use for these places because I never really stay for long.” Jimin explains casually, sliding you a steaming mug as you finish your last bit of toast. “I use them if I have time or if I just want some place quiet to relax and not be disturbed.”

“Then what's the point of having a place so big?” You ask, exchanging your empty plate for the mug, wrapping it up in your hands to warm your palms.

He props up an elbow, leaning on the counter with a cheek resting in one palm and shrugs. “I can't deny I like nice things but in the end, it doesn't have any real value to me.” Here, a sly smile makes his way onto those pillowy soft lips. “You can have it if you want.”

The sentence nearly makes you spit out the tea you had so meticulously been blowing on and you cough, stammering, “I-It's fine! Don't joke like that!”

“I wasn't joking, I was being serious.”

The way Jimin said it was so matter of fact that you could only blink in disbelief. After much floundering, you clear your throat, bringing up the mug closer to your face in hopes of shielding the heat that's spreading over your cheeks. “Still, there's no need. I can't possibly take your house.”

The demon in front of you puffs a chortle, still looking as carefree on the matter as ever, “If you ever change your mind, let me know.”

You grunt bemusedly, mumbling about how you wouldn't even know what to do with a place so big, before taking a slow sip of your tea, humming lightly at the warming feeling and the pleasant taste. Jimin watches you quietly, a content smile on his face. You try to seem unbothered but evidently, the effects of your newly blossomed relationship with him has yet to calm down and so, your heart fluttered in your chest incessantly the moment you locked gazes with those irises, dark as night that seem to only shine on you.

Suddenly, you find yourself in a paradox – while you feel like you're struggling to maintain eye contact with Jimin, no matter how much your eyes flit and wander aimlessly, in the end you're drawn back to him anyways. Rather shameless you think, but confidently, you could at least say that you can't be blamed.

You're not sure if it's the sun's rays, so freely beaming into the room from those large windows, or it's just Jimin, but he seems to emit an unexplained ethereal glow. Gone was the ashen paleness that had made his skin appear almost translucent, his complexion radiates a warm honeyed suppleness that you've missed seeing on him because with it, he looked so much livelier.

Wait.

Now that nothing is hindering your sights, you see clearly that any ailments on his features have been significantly reduced. The purplish dark circles that had clung under his eyes are gone, his cheeks don't seem to be so sunken in and even his raven black hair, tousled effortlessly, had a wonderful sheen as it fell in thick waves over his forehead.

It's with without a doubt, this Jimin in front of you right now really was indeed healthier.

Unconsciously you find your hand reaching out to his face as if wanting to confirm physically that this was no illusion or dream, making Jimin blink in surprise before he gently catches your hand mid-way.

“Something wrong cherub?”

“It's just,” You start, fingers automatically clasping in his hold and you absentmindedly think how soft and warm his hands were. “How are you feeling?”

The sudden question must've caught Jimin a little off guard so after a second of serious considerations, he replies, “I feel...pretty good?”

“You look pretty good too.” The words slip right out before you realized it but once you do, you pull your hand back hastily, flustered as you rambled. “Not that you don't always look good! Because you do! Because you know, you're a demon, master of disguises and all that, and you've even got on arguably one of the best looking faces on the planet so what I meant was you don't look like a ghost that's been dead for centuries anymore instead of a demon like you're supposed to be!”

Jimin, of course, didn't really bother to hide the toothy grin that's forming yet very graciously still moved the subject along in fear that you would pass out. “You do have a point – as you've seen and have been told, the effects of the transition were obvious on me. But,” He lifts up a hand to eye level, spreading his fingers and flipping it this way and that. “I...really do feel fine. Much better than I have for days.” The last admittance has his shapely brows furrowing, as if he couldn't believe it himself once he's said it aloud.

“Is there any sort of explanation for this?” You ask.

Then, after some pondering, he slowly let his hand fall to his side and hummed, “There are...a few number of possibilities I can think of. The most likely one is that unconsciously, I might've taken some energy from you.”

“Taken from me? When did – oh...” It clicked just as the sentence was coming out and instantly your face flushes, eyes wide. Jimin's brow rose, his lips twitching imperceptibly at the corner and you rush, clearing your throat to cover up. “I thought that was like....a specific ability you needed to have, unless you mean to tell me you're an incubus...”

Jimin snorts, bringing a fist up to cover his mouth before he said, “No cherub, I'm not. All demons possess this ability to a certain degree but most usually lean towards certain affinities. Unless you're specifically an incubus, there are other way demons can gain sustenance or a source for their power other than taking energy directly from humans.”

At such news, your own brows raise in curiousity and you can't help but to ask. “Then what do you usually use?”

“Oh the usual; fear, invoking murderous intent, enticing those into depravity.” Jimin lightly lists off, as if he's talking about hobbies he likes to do on a lazy Sunday.

“Hah....” You shouldn't be so surprised. “Well, either way, as long as you're feeling better.”

Jimin hums noncommittally, distractedly reaching out to tuck a strand of fallen hair behind your ear and though his face is mostly impassive, you get the feeling that he was still deeply mulling over this. But the pensive look soon disappears, his eyes going slightly hooded as something else had caught his attention, his focus going to a place on your neck. You felt the hand brushing your hair come to a slow too and shivered when the pads lightly graze the skin there, trailing a path downwards before stopping.

“What a mess I've made.” The low rumbling murmur has your breath involuntarily hitching and your chin automatically tilts down to see what he was referring to. With his prodding, the collar of your robe had been pushed open to reveal the purplish colouring that mottled the surface of the skin along your collarbone and already without needing to see the full extent of the bruising, you know your neck is covered with them.

It was honestly something you hadn't thought about until it's been pointed out so the moment actually caught you off guard and in your stupor, you can only half coherently say, “Not like it hurts or anything...”

When his fingers draw the robe back a little further to get a clearer look, he unwittingly stumbles into another rather troubling thing.

“You're not dressed.”

“...Well, I was gonna shower....” You mumble, letting your eyes drift off from embarrassment. You hear Jimin breathe out a snicker.

“Dirty girl.”

You narrow your gaze back at him, pouting your lips. “Why don't you show me how to work your fancy expensive shower then.”

He laughs. “It's just a bunch of knobs cherub, how hard can it be?”

“Do you even shower?” You ask back accusingly, hands coming up to rest on your hips.

At that, he cocks his head, stepping back with arms crossed and almost haughtily, “I do, in fact, I already did shower this morning. I'm a little offended you would accuse me of having poor hygiene.”

You copy his pose and sniff, “Sure could've fooled me.”

It's obvious what a lie that was because out of the two of you, anyone could tell with one glance which one is likely to smell more like vanilla and peaches (not you), but you can't help making it a habit to poke the tiger when it's asleep.

Sure enough, Jimin's mouth drops open, looking at you incredulously and an actual hint of mild offence. Then he puffs out a scoff, lips quirking up at the corner and suddenly you don't like that glint in his eyes. In a frighteningly calm manner, Jimin lowers his arms and then smiled serenely, only it came off more creepy than reassuring.

“Y/N ~ ....” He singsongs and as if the impending danger has heightened your senses, you see him subtly shift his weight and it's all you need to whip around and take off running, squealing as you go. Probably not the greatest idea since how the hell do you expect to outrun a demon but when you heard the sounds of his jovial laughing right behind you, you think at least some good came out of it.

[whump-me-all-night-long]

The Jewelry Box: Amber’s Beginning pt. 2

Well, here’s part two to the intro of the series. There’s probably going to be a part three, although when that will get written is anyone’s guess.

Taglist: @newbornwhumperfly @unicornscotty @itsleighlove @whump-scribbles @getyourwhumphere @skunkandgrenade @penny-for-your-whump @lektric-whump @just-a-whump-lover @thelazywitchphotographer @restrainthenmaime @angstyachesplus @lilbitwhumpy @leaderofthebeanarmy @aquard-skaii let me know if you want to be added/removed!

CW: intimate whumper, creepy whumper, collared, multiple whumpees, lady whump/whumpees, referenced death(s), Jess (and Sapphire) continue to have dirty mouths, let me know if I need to tag anything else!

Masterlist here

---

To Jess’ eternal disappointment,  the key was not, in fact, for their collar. Instead the Jeweler - Jess’ lip curled at the name - used it to unhook the chain from the headboard. Once that was off, Jess leapt up, intending to sprint to the door and figure out the rest of their plan from there.

The Jeweler had other plans. As soon as Jess was on their feet, he swept a leg under them, sending them toppling to the ground with a grunt. 

Disoriented, Jess pulled themself onto their hands and knees, a hand holding their head. They were about to try to get back up when a foot pressed down on their back, between their shoulder blades. Their unsteady arms and legs gave out beneath them and they tumbled back down, flat on their stomach. They glared somewhere above them, snapping, “Jeez, dude, can you just not?!”

The Jeweler laughed above them, adding a bit more weight onto their back. “Before we leave this room, I want to make sure we have an understanding. There will be no funny business from you, okay? You will behave and then I won’t have to punish you. Everyone wins.”

Jess scowled into the wooden floor. Dream on, fucker, they thought, but they said, “Okay, fine. I understand.”

“Wonderful.” The Jeweler hauled them back to their feet, making sure to keep the chain wrapped tightly around his hand. When he tugged on it, Jess was forced to follow them or risk suffocation. The Jeweler gestured back to the tray he had set down on the nightstand. “Now, do you want to take it or not? It’ll help you recover quicker, last night was not nice to you, but I won’t force you. Not this time at least.”

Jess glanced back at the tray, noticing that there were a couple inconspicuous white pills and a glass of water sitting on it. Hell no, they thought, shaking their head. “No- no way, dude.” They glanced at the Jeweler, wondering if he was about to get angry and blow his lid off.

But he just smiled, opening the door. “Very well.” He lead them out into a surprisingly normal hallway, with several doors and branching hallways on either side. A few picture frames were hung on the wall.

As the Jeweler lead them, Jess let their eyes wander over the pictures, not realizing what they were seeing until one in particular caught their eye.

It was a figure dressed in bright, rich shades of reds and oranges. Their skin was warm brown and their hair, which fell in waves down their back, looked as if it was almost on fire. Orange-gold flakes decorated their skin and hair, and they looked to be posing on their toes, arms arching out above them. They were quite beautiful.

Jess shook their head and began to move on, wondering why they were thinking that, when they noticed that the Jeweler had stopped too. He was gazing at the photo, with a wistful sort of longing. “That was my Garnet,” he said. “He was such a shining soul. Shame…” He trailed off before looking up at Jess. “He was one of my first Jewels,” the man explained. “But an accident-” his lips pursed at that- “caused him to leave too soon. It was a mercy to put him down.”

Jess felt disgust and horror mingle inside them. This man had killed someone? Jess looked back at the picture, noticing what they hadn’t the first time. Nearly invisible wires pulled at Garnet’s wrists, forcing him to balance precariously on his toes. Bruises, almost perfectly concealed, dotted the man’s body. And his eyes were wide not in excitement, but fear, with tears welled up in them. 

Jess shuddered, not resisting as the Jeweler led them on further. A wave of nauseous dizziness swept through them, most likely remnants from whatever the Jeweler had slipped them. They turned down several more hallways, Jess quickly becoming hopelessly lost. There were no windows or doors that lead outside. Finally, after several tense minutes of silence, the Jeweler stopped in front of a door that looked like all the other doors in the halls. 

Using another key, he unlocked the door, revealing an illuminated set of stairs. The Jeweler cheerfully set off down them, pulling Jess along too. The door clanged shut above them, locking, and Jess swallowed, unable to help the feeling that they were being swallowed up by the earth. 

When they reached the bottom, there was another door waiting for them, this one made of solid steel. The Jeweler unlocked it using a very long pin number and a fingerprint ID. Jess watched on, amazed and terrified at the how well organized this man was. The door swung open after a short beep, and Jess frowned, peering closer to look inside. 

The Jeweler gave a quick tug on the chain, causing them to stumble forward into the room. The floor, ceiling, and walls were all the same plain white tile, and there were several racks filled with a huge variety of objects behind glass cabinets along the back wall. Jess saw everything from workout equipment to swathes of cloth to a number of items they chose not to take a closer look at. But that wasn’t the weirdest part.

No, the weirdest part were the six small cells set into the walls, three on either of the side walls, with large panes of glass acting as the fourth wall and keeping them sealed. Well, that and the humans trapped inside them.

Jess jumped back and stared, wide-eyed and unbelieving, at the five people trapped, one to a cell, with the one empty one glaring out at them.

“What- what the hell is this place?” Jess croaked, turning to the Jeweler.

Before the Jeweler could answer, though, one of the people - a young man, maybe a few years older than Jess, with vibrant blue hair and a scowl Jess could see from a mile away - banged on the glass of his cell, glaring at the Jeweler.

“You asshole!” he yelled. Jess blinked, surprised. How long had he been stuck in this place? “Carn- Carnelian’s only been gone a couple of days! And you’ve already replaced him?!”

Jess took a step back, curling in on themself. Whatever they had stumbled into must’ve been a hell of a lot bigger than they first thought.

The Jeweler just smiled, glancing at Jess. “Ah, yes, this is my new Jewel, Amber. Amber, meet everyone. Everyone, meet Amber.”

A wave of anger swept over Jess and they snapped before they could help it. “I told you, fucker, my name is not Amber, it’s fuckin’ J-” 

They was cut off by a sudden cracking noise and pain exploding in their face. It took them a moment to realize what had happened: the Jeweler had slapped them. They blinked, a burst of dizziness exploding through them. They were one of the most skilled fighters they knew, and they hadn’t even seen the blow coming.

The Jeweler watched them, an expression of interest on his face. Jess felt their lip curling, and forced themself to back off. The Jeweler smiled, as if he could tell what was playing through Jess’ mind. 

He turned, gesturing to each of the people. “This is Sapphire-” the blue boy let out what sounded too much like a growl for comfort- “Ruby-” a short, slight slip of a girl with the most vibrant red hair Jess had ever seen glanced up at them, fear in her eyes- “Amethyst-” a much taller, curvier, paler woman with pastel purple hair watched them with calculating eyes- “Emerald-” a man build like an ox with dark skin and kind green eyes watched without expressing much interest- “and my darling Diamond-” a person with the palest skin Jess had ever seen, white hair tumbling over their shoulders, smiled up at the Jeweler. With how pale and faded they looked, Jess could swear they might be a ghost. They also seemed like the only person who was actually happy to see the Jeweler. Everyone else seemed angry or fearful.

The Jeweler smiled, clearly pleased with himself. “Now that introductions are done, I’ll show you to your new home, let you get acquainted with the other Jewels, and then I’ll be back later to continue your initiation.” 

The Jeweler lead them to the empty cell, which was, of course, right next to the angry one - Sapphire. Jess had never been good with names, so it was a good thing that each of the other people were so obviously color-coded to go with the gemstone they were named after. The Jeweler unlocked the door to the cell, and shoved Jess inside, unhooking the chain and slamming the door back closed, all in a few smooth motions. 

Jess stumbled in, glancing around at their surroundings - a small bed attached to the far wall, an empty nightstand next to it, and a metal toilet across from it (Jess had seen prison cells more luxurious than this) - before turning back to face the Jeweler. They took up their fighting stance, legs planted slightly apart, arms crossed in front of them, and a look on their face that was a mix between a scowl and a smirk - a smirl, they called it - that Jules said could make anyone throw the first punch. 

“So what?” they drawled. “This some psycho dream of yours, kidnapping innocent people and dressing them up as, what are these? Gemstones?”

The Jeweler’s smile twitched, which was one of the first signs of his emotions, but when he replied, his tone was light. “Jewels, actually.” He took a step back, surveying Jess. “I’ll be back later,” he said with a wave of his hand, and before Jess knew it, he was gone.

[penguinwithitsarseonfire]

Everyone Secretly Wants You

Pairing: 13th Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 3,528

Warnings: None

Summary: The Doctor takes her fam to an art gallery, showcasing the work of Ava Centuria, her favourite artist of the 42nd century. However, she gets more than she bargained for when said artist takes a keen liking to you.

A/N: I know today has been... a lot. So here's something short and fluffy I wrote to take my mind off of things. Keep yourselves safe and surrounded by love my friends. All the best everyone and lots of love ❤️

“Well then,” Graham said. “Art galleries have certainly changed.”

You had to agree. It didn’t really look like any sort of art gallery you had ever seen before. There were people performing on stages, gallery goers were dressed in multi coloured neon robes, and food that changed shape on on the trays the waiters carried around. It looked like some sort of fancy festival, and you felt like any second you would see Billie Eilish casually stroll around beside you.

You loved it.

“It’s the 42nd century Graham!” The Doctor cried. She was hard to miss, she had replaced her coat with one that was a bright neon blue. “No one cares about stuffy rich people etiquette at these sort of things, it’s why Ava Centuria is so amazing! She completely reshaped societal norms, she made kooky mainstream.”

“Sounds like fun,” Yaz said encouragingly, and she was giving the Doctor a pair of thumbs up. It looked comical, her finger nails were each a different neon colour, and she wore a black suit with neon coloured stripes, reminding you of the kind of thing a school principal would wear to a carnival, except, well, neon.

As the five of you entered, you passed a towering banner that had a woman’s face plastered across and the word ‘Welcome’ written beside her. She was quite beautiful, with sharp cheekbones, long curly black hair, and painted red lips.

“Woah,” Ryan said, as the whole lot of you craned your heads so you could see it more clearly. Ryan had gone all out for the gallery, and had neon green wings painted under his eyes, which matched the neon green blazer he was wearing over a white shirt. “Is that her? This Ava chick.”

“Yup,” The Doctor said proudly. “Oh I can’t wait to meet her, I bet she’s a riot.”

Then a pair of bells rang and you jumped, clutching onto the Doctor with a yelp. Your heart sat in your throat and the Doctor placed her hand onto yours. You soon found your gaze met with hers, and your heart continued beating rapidly, but this time, for an entirely different reason. In this light her eyes almost looked like they were bright green. They sparkled under the light, and for a moment, you were mesmerised.

“Are you okay?” She asked.

“Yeah,” you breathed out, tearing yourself off of her. “Just startled.”

A small marching band began walking past, wearing bright red uniforms. One of them blew something that looked like a kazoo, and it let out the shrilling bell sound that had just startled you. The Doctor gasped, her eyes shining in delight. “Oh I am following that,” and without another word, she had zoomed off.

The rest of you looked at each other, exasperated. After one moment, then another Yaz rolled her eyes. “Alright, okay, I’ll follow her. If we get into trouble I’ll ring.”

“Not too loud I hope,” Ryan said with a smirk. “Wouldn’t want to startle Y/N.”

You gave him a glare, that was only half fake.

“Oh nah,” Yaz said, and met Ryan’s smirk. “Without the Doc around, there’s no one for Y/N to cling on to!”

You began to splutter out a protest but the other’s laughed, and before you knew it, Yaz jogged off with a wave.

You sighed dejectedly. “I really was freaked out.”

“We know,” Graham said. “Just teasin’ is all.”

You, Ryan, and Graham began exploring the art gallery. Ryan nudged you on the shoulder. “When’re you gonna tell her anyway?”

“Tell who what?”

“You can play confused around her,” Graham said, by your other side. “But we know better.”

You rolled your eyes, and a waitress appeared in front of you, offering you a platter. You watched for a moment as the collection of little cakes changed from neon orange to neon cyan, and they looked almost as if they were glowing. It was so cool. You plucked one off the tray and shoved it into your mouth, nodded your thanks and then grinned ruefully at your friends as you sidestepped away from them.

The cake was nice. it wasn’t a flavour you could identify, but it was sweet and fluffy, like a cloud.

Graham took three.

“C’mon Y/N,” Ryan said, skirting around the waitress so he could catch up to you. “You know she likes you back.”

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” you lied. “I just want to eat some cake and look at some funky art.”

Also a lie.

Graham held out one of the cakes to Ryan, and, in doing so, essentially barred you in between them. Ryan took off a chunk and popped it into his mouth. “What’s got you so worked up about it anyway, it’s not as if you’re as emotionally awkward as she is,” he sounded like he was speaking from experience.”

“You too,” you said. “Are the worst wingmen in the history of wingmen ever. Now I’m going to go over…” You glanced around the room, trying to find an area that was relatively crowded. “There,” you said, pointing at a crowd of people gathered around a stage where a man was eating… was that fire? Wow. “So,” you continued. “If you’re going to butt your noses into my love life, I suggest you keep up.”

You dove under Graham’s arm and ran. Look, it wasn’t as though you didn’t like them – of course you did, they were some of your best friends. But it was awkward talking about the Doctor. It was so confusing, she, was so confusing, and you didn’t have the energy to think about it right now.

You slipped into the crowd and scurried to the front, dogding and weaving through neon coloured bodies. When you made it you ducked, turning around so you could try and find Graham and Ryan through the gaps in the people.

There, in the back, towards the right. They were standing around like lost puppies. Good, you had definitely lost them.

Slowly, you navigated your way through the crowd until you were by the other side. This area was far quieter, and you ducked into a narrow hallway.

You’d lost them, and with it, you had lost those annoying questions.

You’d find them soon enough, you just needed ten minutes where a ‘will they, won’t they’ conversation wasn’t the focal point of anything and everything your friends wanted to talk about. Ten minutes without knowing smiles and staring at each other like they were in on some secret, or like they were characters on The Office.  

You found yourself in a relatively empty room, save a few individuals. There was clothing propped up everywhere, and you quickly realised it was on display like a stagnate fashion show. Slowly, you began walking around the room, taking it all in.

And then you saw it.

Completely and utterly confused, you stood in front of a dress. You caught snatches of conversation from the people next to you, who were praising the piece for its creativity and out-of-the-box presentation, but to you... well, it was ugly.

It held a clattering of different patterns; the skirt was made with stripes of cheetah print, rainbow polka dots, red gingham, and acid washed denim. The top clashed even more, and was made of a sequinned fabric, one that, when you moved it, you assumed would change colour.

You weren't sure if it was supposed to be an open smock or a cape, but a sheer, neon orange fabric was drapped around behind the dress and over the arms of the mannequin. It ended in huge black ruffled lace, lining the mannequins wrists and the kissing the floor.

Now, this wouldn't be too bad if there were any structure to the dress, but it was cut into a t-shirt shape, so there wasn't any reason, practically or otherwise, to separate the skirt from the top.

Not to mention the Edwardian style ruff collar that sat around the neck, was made out of, of all things, CD’s – which apparently still existed. You wondered if it was a commentary on something, though you couldn't think of what.

You screwed your face up, concentrating, trying to find something, just a single element about the dress that you liked. It was just... awful, you were sure you could even argue that as an objective fact. Surely the thing broke some sort of laws about fashion and style.

"It's a social experiment," a warm voice said beside you, and you jumped. You hadn't heard anyone coming.

You turned to face the person who owned the voice, and assessed her thoughtfully. You recognised her, but you weren't sure from where.

"I thought I would explain it to you," she continued. "Since you were quite obvious on your distaste for the piece."

The realisation dawned on you like a wave of ice water, running through your mind and down into your bones. Her high cheekbones, her wry cherry red smirk,  her unruly, uncontrolled black curls dancing under the light as she cocked her head to the side, it couldn't be.

But it was. Standing beside you was Ava Centuria, the artist whose work was on display.

The artist who had designed this dress.

The artist who had just called you out on not liking her dress.

Your realisation must have shown on your face, because she broke out in a pearly laugh. "I do appreciate constructive criticism though. So, tell me, what don't you like about it?"

You gauged her thoughtful. Part of you was about to splutter out an apology, tell her that you actually really did like her work. But that would be a lie, and somehow, under Ava Centuria's warm gaze, lying to her just didn’t feel right.

You looked back to the dress, then to her. “Honestly. I… I just think it’s ugly.”

She let out a delighted laugh again, and you realised it was actually quite a lovely sound. “You’re the first to say that.

”“Is that a bad thing?” You asked, because really, you had just insulted her work, and she seemed happy about it.

“It’s refreshing,” she said, and she regarded the dress. “And you’re right. It is ugly. I made it so on purpose.”

This just made you more confused. “I’m sorry? Why would you do that?”

She gave you a kind smile, and you felt yourself warm in response. Ava Centuria really was striking, it looked like she had been moulded by the gods. She was the kind of beautiful that poets wrote about. “Like I said, it’s a social experiment.”

You smiled at that, thinking of the Doctor. You would have to show her this, she loves a good experiment. “What are you experimenting?”

“People,” she said, and she brushed her arm over your elbow, guiding you with her to look around the room. Her touch was warm, and you found that you didn’t mind her touching you at all.

“I find it terribly interesting,” she said, her voice low and soft in your ear. She was so completely close – you could smell her perfume, which was sweet, like a warm Spring breeze. “That something could be completely mundane, or even downright awful, but, if you give it prestige, suddenly everyone completely and utterly adores it,” when she turned to look at you again, her eyes sparkled. “It is why I appreciate you, you are honest. It is not something I am accustomed to.”

It was a sobering statement. “That seems like a lonely way to live.”

Her expression faltered, her wry grin falling into a small, sad, smile. “It can be” she gave you a knowing look. “Sometimes, though, I am lucky enough to find someone who can make the days just a little bit brighter.”

You thought about the Doctor, who lied so often, and kept so many secrets. Was she lonely too? Even with the fam, even with you with her? Did you help make her days brighter?

“I’m terribly sorry,” she said after a moment, recatching your attention.  “But I didn’t seem to catch your name.”

You noticed she had still not let go of your arm, and was caressing you slightly with her thumb.

You chuckled. “I never gave it.”

“Surely then you must share it.”

You told her your name and she smiled. “Ah. Y/N. It is fitting. It is a beautiful name for an equally beautiful person.”

You felt your eyes widen and your ears tense. Had she just-

“I am an artist,” she continued. “I know these things.”

You felt your cheeks grow hot. It wasn’t often people as gorgeous as Ava Centuria just casually flirted with you.

She stuck out her other hand. “I am Ava, by the way.”

It was such a bizarre turn of events that it startled a laugh out of you. You took her hand. “I know who you are, Ms Centuria.”

“Ava,” she repeated. “And, I know. But I felt it was important for a formal introduction, especially when one considers what I am about to ask you.”

You paused at that. Ask what?

“I would like to give you a tour,” she said. “A personal one, just for you. I would very much like to hear your thoughts on my collection and…” her movement on your arm faltered. “I would very much like to get to know you better, if you would let me.”

Under the lighting, Ava’s hair seemed to glow, like a halo of light was wrapped around it. She looked ethereal, and you couldn’t believ that she had just –

Oh gosh, Ava Centuria had just asked you on a date. Now. As in, immediately.

“Oh Y/N,” a familiar voice called out. “There you are, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

You turned to see the Doctor strolling up, her neon blue coat billowing behind her. She… there was no other word for it, she looked awkward. Her hands were balled into fists, and she was giving you a strained smile. Behind her, across the other side of the room, stood Yaz and Ryan. Yaz was giving you an incredulous look, as if you had just taken the last cake from a tray, and Ryan, Ryan looked like he was about to whoop into the air, or shake you.

You had no idea how to interpret either of those looks.

“Doctor,’ you said and her smile softened as she met your gaze.

You turned back to Ava, sure that you had flushed, and untangled yourself from her grasp. The Doctor was beside you - and when had she appeared? She wrapped her arm around your frame, pulling you in to your side. "You must be Ava Centuri?" She said, but her smile seemed too wide, too forced. "Oh I'm a big fan!"

Ava stiffened. “Well,” she said, and her voice was distant. “It appears I am at  a disadvantage, Y/N has not told me about you.”

“Oh! Well that’s surprising, I’m Y/N’s number one. We’re very, very close, Y/N and I,” her other hand fell across your arm, the spot where Ava had just been holding you. “We’re two peas in a pod, birds of a feather, made from the same cloth, you could say. Oh, a match made in heaven! Like Bonnie and Clyde,” she scrunched up her face. “No wait, not them, They died.”

“They also killed a lot of people,” you added. “Which wasn’t great.”

“That to,” The Doctor said, nodding to you like it was the most serious conversation you had ever had. She turned back towards Ava. “I’m the Doctor.”

“Well met Doctor,” Ava said, and she seemed to genuinely mean it. “I’m quite sorry though, you see, Y/N and I were-”

“Oh yeah!” The Doctor said. “I’m terribly sorry,” She squeezed your shoulder again, and it looked like the Doctor wasn’t sorry at all. “But we have to be off. We’ve got loads of things to meet, people to see, and places to do,” she scrunched up her face again. “No, wait, that’s the wrong order.”

“Things to do, people to meet, and places to see,” you supplied.

The Doctor grinned at you, utterly delighted. You felt a swell of pride in your stomach, you loved that you were the cause of that smile.

“Ah,” something seemed to dawn on Ava, and she looked in between you and The Doctor. Her eyes lingered on the Doctor’s arm, which was still securely wrapped around your waist. That small, sad smile from earlier returned. “I, I do believe I understand,” she turned to the Doctor. “You have found an angel among mortals, be sure you remember that.”

The Doctor audibly swallowed, and her grip on you faltered, for a moment. “I – uh, yeah. You’re right. Completely right, actually. Always knew you were clever.”

She nodded. “Good,” she turned to you. “And dear Y/N, if you ever find yourself wanting to entertain the whims of a lonely artist, I really would consider myself so very lucky.”

You didn’t know what to say.

She took your hand, and placed a delicate kiss on your knuckles, a part of you felt your arm tingle at the contact. “I best not keep you then. It was a pleasure meeting you, Y/N. Doctor.” She gave the Doctor a consolatory nod, and left.

“Huh,” The Doctor said. “She was… I’m not sure I liked her as much as I thought I would.”

You hummed, not necessarily agreeing, but not really knowing what to say. You watched Ava walk away with a small frown. You hoped she was okay, she had been kind. She deserved kindness.

She wasn’t someone who your heart could belong to.

You turned to the Doctor. “So, what’s up? Is everything okay?”

The Doctor paused, her face falling. It was almost as if you could see the cogs turning in her brain, but you couldn’t work out why she was thinking so hard. “I think Graham’s gotten lost,” The Doctor said suddenly. “So I think it’s high time we find him and get out of here, what’d you say?”

You nodded, and, still holding you, The Doctor and you began walking out the room. You found your friends gathered outside the TARDIS, in fact, neither you or the Doctor had even paused to find Graham. You assumed Yaz and Ryan had done so, when you and the Doctor were talking to Ava.

On the way in, you noticed how the neon everyone was wearing glowed under the crystals. The Doctor was gorgeous in a way you couldn’t describe. She was here, present, by your side. It was so tangible, suddenly.

You had never noticed before, the way her hair softly fell around her face. She had bright neon stripes of green in it, and you wondered, absentmindedly, when she had had them done. The chain from her earring glinted in the soft light, the stars along the chain glittering.

In a soft voice, you asked. “Why the neon, do you think?”

“I dunno,” she said, and she shut the door behind Ryan, the last to enter the TARDIS. He was giving you a funny look, and you chose to ignore him. You chose to ignore Graham and Yaz too, for good measure. You would get embarrassed and fluder, you could already feel it.

“Sometimes,” the Doctor said, after a moment, and she looked around the room. “When you can’t find any brightness, you wonderful humans chose to create it instead. Even in the darkest of times.”

“Us humans?” You smiled, and you took a chance, maybe this time, just once, the Doctor could be honest. “What do you do then, Doc?”

“I don’t need to create it,” she said, her gaze wholly focused on you. “I’ve found it.”

You swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry. That… The Doctor couldn’t possibly mean what you thought she meant. But she looked at you so intently, as if you were her entire universe. Her gaze flickered across your face, across the neon yellow flowers Yaz had painted on your cheeks, across your nose, and on your lips.

She leaned in, or maybe it was you, and she as so close now.

The sound of a loud cheer shattered the spell. You jumped back in shock.

“Finally!” Ryan cried, all the way from across the console.

You looked up to see Ryan, Graham, and Yaz standing off to the side, watching you like a collection of hawks. Graham and Yaz turned to Ryan in astonishment. Yaz elbowed Ryan and he doubled over. She tugged on his ear and whispered harshly.

The Doctor grinned when she spoke. “I can hear you, y’know.”

You, however, could not.

“Is it true?” She asked them, and you desperately wished you could have heard.

Graham gave you both a look, one which said ‘sort it out yourselves’.

The Doctor turned back to you. “I think you and I need to have a talk, later, when there’s no one else around?”

She looked vulnerable, her eyes wide and pleading, as if you hadn’t been just about to kiss her.

You nodded, giving her a small, warm smile. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”