#i need to sand but these parts are honestly casted really well thank god

[tsubasaclones]

Parts fitting test :)

[bamf-jaskier]

So I’ve been having a lot of thoughts about how imbalanced Geralt and Jaskier’s relationship is in the show and while I might make another post about it, I don’t think anything shows that better than by comparing the Djinn scene in The Last Wish vs the show. 

For the set-up to meeting the Djinn in the books, Geralt and Dandelion are fishing together. They are both holding onto a line in and manage to haul in a 12 foot long catfish by working together and on the other line they have in the river  Jaskier pulls out the Djinn’s amphora. In the show, Geralt is hunting the Djinn in an attempt to try and get some peace of mind. Jaskier happens to run into Geralt and watches as Geralt pulls out the Djinn. 

Scene from The Last Wish:

“Ha!” Dandilion exclaimed again, proudly. “Do you know what this is?”

“It's an old pot.”

“You're wrong,” declared the troubadour, scraping away shells and hardened, shiny clay. “This is a charmed jar. There's a djinn inside who'll fulfill my three wishes.”

The witcher snorted.

“You can laugh.” Dandilion finished his scraping, bent over and rinsed the amphora. “But there's a seal on the spigot and a wizard's mark on the seal.”

“What mark? Let's see.”

“Oh, sure.” The poet hid the jar behind his back. “And what more do you want? I’m the one who found it and I need all the wishes.”

“Don't touch that seal! Leave it alone!”

“Let go, I tell you! It's mine!”

“Dandilion, be careful!”

“Sure!”

“Don't touch it! Oh, bloody hell!”

The jar fell to the sand during their scuffle, and luminous red smoke burst forth.

The witcher jumped back and rushed toward the camp for his sword. Dandilion, folding his arms across his chest, didn't move.

The smoke pulsated and collected in an irregular sphere level with Dandilion's eyes. The sphere formed a six-foot-wide distorted head with no nose, enormous eyes and a sort of beak.

Compare that to the scene from the show: 

Jaskier: Wow. Wow. What is- What is that?

Geralt: [inspecting the stopper] It’s a wizard’s seal. The djinn.

Jaskier: Do you mind if I- [He grabs the pot.]

Geralt: Jaskier...

Jaskier: Take back that bit about my fillingless pie. Take it back and then you can have your djinny-djinn-djinn.

Geralt: Let go.

Jaskier: No! No, let go, you horse’s arse! [Geralt accidentally pulls out the stopper. Jaskier upends the pot, nothing happens.] Hm. That’s a bit of an anticlimax. [A sudden breeze ruffles their hair.] Or is it?

Now, it’s important to note that the dialogue is actually quite similar when Geralt and Jaskier are arguing about taking the jar and the seal. However, where it really differs is the context. 

In the show, Geralt finds the Djinn and Jaskier takes it from him without asking and Geralt is clearly annoyed by this. 

In the books, Dandelion finds the amphora and Geralt doesn’t believe it’s a Djinn while Dandelion does and Geralt tries to warn Dandelion of opening it because he considers it dangerous. 

It’s the difference between Geralt being genuinely annoyed at Jaskier vs Geralt being concerned for Dandelion’s safety. There is a weird amount of contention between Geralt and Jaskier in the show that makes their relationship feels honestly unhealthy in many ways. 

Scene from The Last Wish:

“Djinn!” said Dandilion, stamping his foot. “I freed thee and as of this day, I am thy lord. My wishes—”

The head snapped its beak, which wasn't really a beak but something in the shape of drooping, deformed and ever-changing lips.

“Run!” yelled the witcher. “Run, Dandilion!”

“My wishes,” continued the poet, “are as follows. Firstly, may Valdo Marx, the troubadour of Cidaris, die of apoplexy as soon as possible. Secondly, there's a count's daughter in Caelf called Virginia who refuses all advances. May she succumb to mine. Thirdly—”

No one ever found out Dandilion's third wish.

Two monstrous paws emerged from the horrible head and grabbed the bard by the throat. Dandilion screeched.

Again, Compare that to the scene from the show: 

Jaskier: Djinn, I have freed thee, and as of this day, I am thy lord. Firstly, may Valdo Marx, the troubadour of Cidaris, be struck down with apoplexy and die. Secondly, the Countess de Stael must welcome me back with glee, open arms, and very little clothing. Thirdly-

Geralt: Jaskier! [He grabs the back of Jaskier’s top and pulls him backward.]

Jaskier: Wha-

Geralt: Stop! There are only three wishes.

Jaskier: Oh, come on, you always say you want nothing from life. So how was I supposed to know you wanted three wishes all to yourself?

Geralt: I just want some damn peace!

Jaskier: Well, here’s your peace! [He throws the pot to the ground where it breaks. Geralt bares his teeth and growls before he bows down to collect the pieces, missing the fresh cut on his forearm. The wind intensifies and Jaskier raises a hand to his throat.] Geralt… Geralt… it’s the djinn! [Geralt casts a magical sign at the black, transparent smoke rushing by. Jaskier doubles over and clutches his throat.]

Geralt: Jaskier. [Jaskier vomits blood.]

Again, while the dialogue is very similar, especially in the case of Jaskier/Dandelion some of it being word for word in fact, Geralt in the books tries to protect Dandelion while the only thing Geralt focuses on is the wishes themselves. As well, in the books, Dandelion’s injury in the books is due to his own folly and arrogance while in the show, the writers make it indirectly Geralt’s fault. 

It’s another weird choice that seems to suggest a dislike and a hostility between Geralt and Jaskier. It seems that even subconsciously Geralt doesn’t want Jaskier around. 

Scene from The Last Wish:

“A troubadour,” repeated Chireadan, looking at Geralt. “That's bad. Very bad. The muscles of his neck and throat are attacked. Changes in his vocal cords are starting to take place. The spell's action has to be halted as soon as possible otherwise…This might be irreversible.”

“That means…Does that mean he won't be able to talk?”

“Talk, yes. Maybe. Not sing.”

Geralt sat down at the table without saying a word and rested his forehead on his clenched fists.

Again, Compare that to the scene from the show: 

Chireadan: His throat was attacked. If the spell’s action isn’t halted as soon as possible, that damage might be irreversible.

Jaskier: Wha- [vomiting more blood]

Chireadan: And the longer he goes untreated, the more likely it is to spread. He could die.

Jaskier: [gasps] Fuck! Geralt.

Geralt: Uh... Yeah, we won‘t let that happen. [pats Jaskier’s back]

In the books, Geralt shows genuine concern for Dandelion and is heartbroken by the idea that he might not be able to sing again. Remember, in the books, Dandelion’s injury is a result of his own folly and Geralt still feels this obvious and clear sadness. In the show--he just has this awkward grimace and pats him on the back. He almost seems to be there out of a strange sense of duty and doesn’t seem to feel too much guilt about his part in Jaskier’s injury. 

Even when they are reunited after Yennefer heals Jaskier, it is very different in the two mediums (I actually want to do another post about Yennefer in Bottled Appetites vs The Last Wish)

Scene from The Last Wish:

“Dandilion!” Geralt shouted, holding Krepp back, who was clearly getting ready to perform an exorcism or a curse. “Where have you…here…Dandilion!”

“Geralt!” The bard jumped up.

“Dandilion!”

Again, Compare that to the scene from the show: 

Jaskier: Oh, Geralt. Thank the gods. I might live to see another day. We need to go. 

Geralt: Jaskier, you’re okay.

Jaskier: I’m glad to hear that you give a monkey’s about it.

Geralt: Let’s not jump to conclusions. What happened?

Geralt and Jaskier are overjoyed to see each other in the books meanwhile in the show Geralt is just...okay about it. 

And it’s really strange because Netflix!Geralt can show emotion when he wants to, he does with Yennefer in Bottled Appetites and Rare Species, he shows fear when she is with the Djinn and care when they are in the tent together and yet --- this emotion is not extended to Jaskier. This isn’t simply a difference of Geralt’s characterization.

In the show, the writers created an imbalanced relationship between Geralt and Jaskier where Geralt never asked Jaskier to be there. The bard is constantly inserting himself into Geralt’s life when he is not wanted and testing Geralt’s boundaries without permission. He almost seems like an invader in Geralt’s life and it makes it so that I honestly can’t believably see Geralt and Jaskier traveling together for 20 years. 

Dandelion and Geralt protect each other, care for each other and worry about one another. Even from the beginning of the Djinn incident, they were fishing together. Geralt and Jaskier on the other hand have a relationship where Geralt begrudgingly tolerates Jaskier while Jaskier plows along blindly. It’s not healthy on either side. Geralt is putting up with someone he doesn’t seem to have a genuine connection with and Jaskier is pushing boundaries and constantly talking to a man who has no interest in listening. 

There is no reciprocal relationship between Geralt and Jaskier and I think in the end that’s why there is this hostility between the two of them.

[blossom-hwa]

Well in that case: Wooyoung + Yellow

wooyoung yellow supremacy LET'S GO the man is LITERAL SUNSHINE !!!!!!!!!!!! thank you so much for this request!!!!!!

4 year anniversary drabble game: send me a Stray Kids/The Boyz/Golden Child/Ateez member + a prompt (check out the post for ideas) and I’ll write a drabble for you!

This is set in the same universe as the model!Wooyoung I wrote after his studio choom aotm was released, You're the Only One Who Matters - you can read it here!

~

Title: Golden Hour

Pairing: Wooyoung x gender neutral!reader

Word count: 1.1k

Triggers: suggestive towards the end (NOTHING GRAPHIC)

~

The photoshoot finishes in the late afternoon, golden sunshine streaming down Wooyoung's slim figure and bathing him in warm light. With the ocean in the background shimmering in alternating shades of blue green and pinkish orange, he looks like a heaven-sent angel, touched down on earth to grace humanity with a piece of unearthly beauty.

It's perfect, you think as Mingi flips through the pictures on his camera, showing you each outfit, each pose Wooyoung held that day. The fitted suit, the coiffed hair, the light but prominent golden jewelry slung around his neck and arms... You allow yourself a moment of pride as you smile at Mingi. "These are great," you say, patting his shoulder. "Run them over by Hongjoong for a second opinion, but if he likes them, I think we're good to submit."

Mingi beams, flashing you a quick farewell before going off to find Hongjoong. You turn your attention to Wooyoung, who's thanking a group of staff on their way off the beach. "Wooyoung!" you call, stepping carefully over the sand.

At the sound of his name, a wide smile splashes across Wooyoung's face like the small waves breaking on the ocean, throwing bits of golden light into the air. "Y/N!" He bounds over, that smile radiating even more light than the sun. "How did I look?"

You smile at that, a variant of the question he's asked every shoot since that night so many months ago when he leaned in close, all silver jewelry and silk clothes and that alluring face, and asked you, "How do I look?" Unlike that time, though, you no longer have any issue answering the question Wooyoung so loves to ask.

"Gorgeous," you answer honestly. "If the magazine tells us to re-shoot these, I'm going to have to sue them or something. I think the photos we got this time are some of the best you've ever modeled." Reaching up, you rearrange the thin golden necklace around his throat. The metal is warm from the heat of his skin, and it sparkles in the sun. "So tell me, Woo, what's it like being the god of the sun at golden hour?"

He laughs at that, loud and cackling and with such genuine cheer that even though everyone here is used to his antics and giggles, they turn around anyway to watch him laugh with a smile. "It feels amazing," he replies, opening his arms with a dramatic flair. The thin material of his flowing sleeves ripples in the ocean breeze, making him look almost like a butterfly spreading its wings. "All these mortals gazing upon me, staring at me, taking pictures of me..."

"Alright alright, that's enough," you laugh, pushing him lightly. "We get it, you're beautiful."

"You didn't let me finish." Wooyoung pouts, his hands dropping back to his side. "I was about to say there was only one mortal who mattered."

You raise an eyebrow, even as your heart thuds a little faster. "And who might that be?"

"You." Wooyoung leans in and kisses you playfully. "Who else?"

"You sap." You shake your head, not even bothering to hide your smile anymore. "Let's get back to the hotel room. I think everyone's pretty much done here, and you need to get changed. I don't want these clothes ruined."

. . .

Face washed bare of makeup and hair still damp from the shower, Wooyoung walks out of the bathroom as you finish putting the clothes back where they belong. His footsteps pad softly on the floor and before you know it, he's hugging you from behind, chin hooked over your shoulder. "Hi."

"Hi, yourself." You turn your head back as much as you can to catch a glimpse of his face, eyes closed and lips smiling in seeming peace. "Tired?"

"No more than usual." He yawns, slightly, pulling away from your back to sit on the bed. "Are we still going to dinner?"

"As long as you're up for it." You take in his outfit - silk shirt with gold accents done by your hand, black pants, a thin golden pendant hung around his neck. "Judging by what you're wearing, I'm assuming that's a yes?"

"Yeah!" Wooyoung grins, bouncing slightly on the mattress. You break into a smile - looking at him like this, it's so hard to believe he was the same shining Adonis from several hours ago on the beach, basking in the golden sun like a god from the heavens. Wooyoung is no less beautiful in any situation, but as he beams up at you, you can't help but admire the duality he possess on a daily basis. It's fascinating. "You like the outfit? You made it."

You laugh. "I made the shirt," you correct, sitting next to him on the bed to adjust the collar. "Still playing up the sun god angle, aren't you?"

His grin turns slightly devilish. "Do you like it?"

This time you purposely withhold an answer, even though the smile on your face growing wider by the second spells everything out as clear as day. "What do you think?" you ask.

Wooyoung's eyes narrow. He tilts his head to one side, letting the collar you just adjusted slip down again to reveal a smooth expanse of skin. Internally, one part of you snorts at the obvious accidentally-on-purpose display, but the other part of you keeps feeling warmer by the second. He was giggling just minutes ago - how does he change so fast?

"I think..." He pauses, and instinctively you know that the tables have turned. Whatever hold you once had over him disappears as Wooyoung leans in, placing a warm hand on your thigh. "I think you like it very much," he says, breath ghosting over your skin.

Involuntarily, you shiver slightly. The sun outside the window streams over Wooyoung's body, shimmering on the silk with its gold accents, bathing him in the warmth of a god sending a blessing on their chosen ones. "You're right," you whisper, almost afraid that if you speak too loudly, you'll break this blissful golden spell Wooyoung has cast on you, bathing you in his warm light. "I do."

The hand on your thigh presses a little more. "Want to show me how much?"

You raise an eyebrow. "Didn't you say you wanted dinner?"

"Dinner can wait." Wooyoung gently pushes you into the mattress with a grin somewhere between a laugh and a smirk. You really want to kiss it. "We still have a bit of golden hour left, don't we?"

[heartbreakheroics]

sometimes playing the witcher 3 makes me worry for geralt’s (and my own) mental health (seriously, the people you help in the game fucking SUCK???), so i wrote about it: It’s raining when Geralt stumbles away from the campsite, a strange feeling lodged in his throat. This is why he never sits down with strangers, with anyone. He knows this, and yet – he’d been on the road by himself for months, and that’s fine – it is, this is the Path, it’s what he does – but somehow the many wry endings that his latest contracts had found had started to wear on him. Being forced to kill a werewolf to protect the man’s own fiancée, her screaming and crying as she refused to meet his eyes; helping a baron to find his wife and child only to find out he was the reason they had fled; running into wraith upon wraith and finding their letters filled with despair… 

So tonight, when a small group of men had called him over to where they were warming their hands over a campfire, offering him some ale, Geralt had accepted. He would never have normally, but he’d been so frayed, so hollow. Conversation had been fine, after he’d grudgingly told them his name and they had all cast their individual judgement on it, and the atmosphere had almost become pleasant. Until one of the men had known a little too much about politics and Nilfgaardian plans for one of the others’ liking. He’d jumped up, yelling about how the man was a Nilfgaardian spy and ordering Geralt to hold him down. Geralt had tried to calm them down, to keep them apart, to use axii – all in vain. As he’d been focused on the first two, the third man had turned against the supposed spy as well, had stabbed him sloppily, and soaked his hands in blood. 

Not for the first time, Geralt wonders if he should be protecting those humanity calls monsters instead. 

Well past midnight, he walks into Oxenfurt, 

Roach stepping along behind him. The last thing he wants right now is more people, but he is low on supplies, and Roach deserves a roof over her head for a change. At least, that’s what he tells himself as he makes his way over cobblestones and patches of sand towards the university buildings. There’s an odd tug in his chest as he catches the familiar smell of cedarwood and jasmine, and glimpses candlelight coming from the window he’s looking for. Jaskier is home. 

Discomfort creeps up his spine as he realises he can no longer deny what he’s doing. What is he thinking? He stops dead in his tracks, Roach’s nose bumping his shoulder as she comes to a halt behind him. She snorts, ruffling his hair. When he turns to look at her, her ears are pricked forward, her nostrils flared.

‘You smell him too, girl?’ Geralt asks softly, rubbing her cheek. She headbutts him in answer. 

He flicks his gaze back at the row of buildings and makes a decision. ‘Come on, then.’

The stables are quiet, a sole sleepy guard keeping watch in front of them. Geralt vaguely recognises him as a young lad from one of Jaskier’s classes. John? Jord? Geoffrey? 

The boy straightens, his movements stiff. ‘Mr. Geralt, sir!’ he says, squinting in the light of a single torch. ‘Mr. Witcher of Rivia. How are you, sir? Are you visiting Jas- professor de Lettenhove?’

The question – assumption, really – catches Geralt off-guard. He nods curtly. ‘I need a stable for Roach here.’ There’s a beat. ‘Please.’ 

The boy – Yason? – smiles broadly. ‘I can take care of that, sir, you go on and catch professor de Lettenhove before he goes to bed. Not that he seems to go to sleep early, mind, the other day a mate of mine said that she saw his light on hours after midnight –’

‘Thank you, Yann,’ Geralt says, glad to remember the lad’s name at last, and effectively shutting him up. Yann’s face lights up at that, and honestly, what has Jaskier told these kids? The look of awed reverence is unsettling. Fucking bard and his stories.

With a last pat on her neck, he hands Roach over. He usually prefers taking care of her himself, but he knows he can trust the kid to do it well. That, and some part of him is heeding Yann’s words, wanting to catch Jaskier before the man goes to sleep.

He doesn’t let himself think before he knocks on Jaskier’s door. The wood is a clear blue under his knuckles, standing out from the plain doors of the surrounding houses. Of course. He can hear Jaskier get up, stretching and cracking his back – Geralt decidedly doesn’t flinch at that – and make his way over to the door.

Bleary, glazed-over eyes meet his own and widen. ‘Geralt!’ Jaskier says, sounding pleased even when no human should at this hour. He is in a long, white shirt, and his hair is mussed, looking rumpled. A small wrinkle forms between his brows as he looks Geralt over.

The next thing he knows, the bard has thrown his arms around him, holding him tight. And Geralt is disgusting, surely, covered in dust and mud and blood, and he doesn’t normally do this, they don’t – but gods, he doesn’t have the energy to protest. He leans into Jaskier’s solid weight, just a little. Brings his arms up to awkwardly rest on his back, and breathes him in. It settles something deep inside him, makes his breath come out in a shudder and his shoulders drop. 

‘There you go,’ Jaskier says softly, rubbing circles into his back. It’s – new, but it feels good against his tense muscles. Geralt steps back.

‘I -’

‘Come on in,’ Jaskier interrupts him, turning around and walking inside without looking back.

Geralt sighs. Maybe he can stay. Just for a little while.

[p-artsypants]

I’ll Handle This (6)

In Which Plagg is Annoying

So, my beloved Fiancé really likes Magic: The Gathering. He’s taught me how to play it, and talks about it a lot, but I still don’t really understand it. It’s a complicated game. So this chapter has sections of me purposefully badly explaining the game, sorry if that bothers you lol. 

Ao3 | FF.net

—

Adrien awoke curled in a ball. His bed was extremely soft, and he sunk right into it. 

Oh, except it was a pillow. He was still in Plagg’s tiny Kwami body. Great. 

He yawned and stretched, realizing that he was alone in his bed. 

“Plagg?” He asked the room. 

There was no answer, but the bathroom door was closed. 

Plagg was most likely getting him ready, or his human body, ready for school. 

Before Adrien could imagine the worst case scenario, the bathroom door opened, and Plagg emerged. 

Adrien stared, and then declared loudly, “NO.” 

“Yes!” Said Plagg, flouncing into Adrien’s closet. 

“How—why? When?!” 

Plagg brought his pre-chosen outfit into the main room, and started to get dressed, carefully slipping the purple tiger striped shirt over his expertly gelled Mohawk. 

“Did you not see me buy that ultra super strong hair gel yesterday?” 

“I didn’t see anything you bought yesterday,” said Adrien with frustration. “I was in your pocket the whole time, remember?” 

“Oh, then you’re in for a treat!” He slipped on an over shirt, that was black with orange leopard spots. 

“Oh god...”

“You should have been more careful about what you brought home from shoots,” Plagg sang. “Love the leopard spots. Though I’m just a black cat, mixing up my coat on occasion would be fun.” 

“I kept that shirt because I thought it was funny, or it would be good for a costume. You can’t honestly wear it!” 

Plagg blew him a raspberry. “Oh suck it up buttercup! It’ll be fine!” 

Adrien watched with other things on his mind as Plagg finished dressing. Brown pants, rolled up with mismatched argyle socks, and then the same green sunglasses to cover his cat eyes.

“I think I have a photo shoot with Lila after school,” said Adrien. 

“And?” 

“And you should probably attend it. I know you want to piss off my dad and blow off responsibilities that aren’t Miraculous related, but modeling is my job. I’m still under a contract and I get paid for it. That money goes to my college fund, which I intend to use to pick my own career.” 

“What’s one missed shift to the son of the company?”

“A strike against me, and a loss of around a thousand euros.” 

Plagg swiveled his head to look at him. “That much? Is Lila making that too?” 

“No.” Adrien chuckled. “I am in high demand and so I make more. She makes around 15 euros an hour. That’s why she always drags photoshoots on for so long. Me and some of the other models get paid per gig.” 

Plagg scoffed. “That’s stupid.” 

“So will you behave for three hours?” 

“No,” said Plagg, smoothing his shirt and hair. “But I’ll participate in the shoot and play nice with the photographer. Lila, on the other hand, I have plans for.” 

Adrien looked at him warily. “...alright.” 

Doing a once-over, Plagg declared, “just one more accessory, the piece de resistance...” he reached into a plastic bag from his shopping yesterday. 

Adrien gaped in horror. “NO. NO NO NO!” 

—

Gabriel walked from the kitchen back to his office, coffee mug in hand. Dealing with Adrien’s rebellion had been a PR nightmare, but he was able to spin Adrien’s outfit yesterday, as out of character as it was, as merely a phase. A phase which he would grow out of soon, but one that was necessary for Adrien to grow, to explore his own style, to learn fashion in his own mind. The media ate it up, and several articles would be coming out in the next week or so. 

Then the boy in question streaked by him in a kaleidoscope of color. 

Gabriel sputtered on his coffee, staining his suit with the brown liquid, but not caring a bit.

“Adrien?!” He shouted, beyond horrified. He couldn’t tell what was worse, the patterns? The colors? The hair? NO. 

“Where did you get crocs?” Gabriel asked, as Adrien reached the unfortunately unlocked door. 

He turned for just a second, long enough to shout. “Ask my butt, old man!” Before the door shut behind him. 

Gabriel had to call those magazines back. 

—

Plagg arrived at school, drawing the attention of every student mingling there. Some stared in horror, while others held in laughter. 

A student passed Plagg and raised a fist. “Nice duds, dude! Stick it to the man!” 

Plagg responded with a gleeful grin and matching fist bump. 

“Oh my god,” said Nino, as he arrived. “You look amazing.”

“My dad spilled coffee on himself this morning, and the look on his face was totally worth it.”

“God, I wish I could have been there.” Nino sighed. 

“It was pretty amazing, not going to lie.” 

“Oh, while we have a second...I was hoping to have a sleepover this weekend. Marinette and Alya would come over for the evening, and then leave in time for dude’s night. You in?” 

“Just you and me?” 

“Yeah, if that’s cool.” 

“Absolutely! After school tomorrow?” 

“Yeah! Marinette said your schedule was open.” 

“Marinette knew that? I didn’t even know that.” 

“I think she keeps track of that stuff for class activities.” He cleared his throat, not looking at him. “And for no other reason besides that.” 

Plagg chuckled to himself. God, Nino was the worst liar. “I understand. Someone’s got to know my schedule if I don’t.” 

“Marinette is the best, after all.” Nino puffed up his chest, doing his damndest to be a good wingman. 

Plagg didn’t think he needed to try so hard, but props. “She is the best, isn’t she?” 

Nino smiled widely, like he had a secret joke that wouldn’t make sense to anyone. 

A pair of arms wound around his own, squeezing tightly like a boa constrictor. “Good morning Adrien!” Lila chirped. 

“Morning,” Plagg returned, playing casual in front of Nino. 

“I need to talk to you about the photoshoot after school.” She turned to Nino. “Can I borrow your buddy for a minute?” 

“You can have him for five minutes.” Nino winked. 

Lila giggled, sounding pretty realistic to an untrained ear. “Thanks Nino!” Without waiting for Plagg’s permission, she dragged him away to a sequestered corner of the courtyard. 

Before Plagg could even ask what was in her mind, she turned and faced him, expression full of vitriol and rage. It was not a face he’d seen on many mortals. 

“Don’t think I can’t see what you’re trying to do, Adrien.” Her voice was cold, sharp, and harsh. 

Adrien shivered in Plagg’s pocket. 

“And that would be...?”

“Trying to weasel your way out of our little agreement.” 

Plagg blinked, remembering the arrangement they had prepared a while ago. It’s what had gotten Marinette un-expelled. Just schmooze with the brat and she’d leave Marinette alone. But it was very apparent she was ready to take any violation of this agreement as an invitation to jump right back into her conniving ways. 

Plagg would hold out for now, play the long game. He had a plan, and if that failed for some unexplainable reason, then he had another one lined up. It was just a matter of finding out what bait Lila would take. 

He feigned a gasp, as well as she would, and laid a hand on his chest. “Oh Lila, whatever are you talking about? I’m just having a little disagreement with my dear old dad. It’s nothing against you! Honest!” 

She squinted at him. “You’re still on the schedule to model with me later today, so I’m assuming you didn’t actually quit modeling. If you had, this would have turned sour.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Modeling is our ‘fun friendship’ activity, and if you try to get out of it, I’m going to assume you don’t care about Marinette after all.” She shrugged. 

He laughed, a dark sinister laugh that didn’t belong on his handsome, sweet, cherubic face. “You mortals are just so cute when you think you can win against me.”

The look on Lila’s face was perfect. Part confused, part terrified. “What?” 

He spoke with a voice older than time, conjuring magics from the ancient unknowns. “Dos valok th’um krosis!” 

“Did...did you just cast a spell on me?” 

“I don’t know, you tell me. How do your lips feel?” 

She pursed her lips. “I don’t know, a little—“ 

“CHAPPED?” Provided Plagg, with a shit-eating grin. 

“Oh my god.” 

“Do not test me, Lila Rossi. You won’t win.” He gave her a pleasant little smile. 

She stared in bewilderment, before chuckling right back. “Boy, you had me for a second.” She pulled out a tube of chapstick and applied some. “Are you trying to psych me out? Cause it’s not going to work.” 

“Well darn,” said Plagg with a little snap of his fingers. “Thought my necromancy could spook you off. Well, if that didn’t do it, I guess you really do want to be my friend, no matter how quirky I can be.” He gave a happy little sigh. 

Lila was immediately suspicious. “Sure, I want to be your friend...?” It wasn’t supposed to be a question, but Lila wasn’t convinced. 

Unless Adrien really was that naïve. 

“Great!” Plagg clapped. “I have to go talk to Marinette, but we’ll hang out at the shoot! It’s going to be so much fun!” And he hurried off. 

Lila narrowed her eyes back in his direction. There was definitely fishy about that exchange. She couldn’t very well text Gabriel and say, “there’s something suspicious about your son. He actually wants to be my friend. Also he chapped my lips.” That would be too confusing and send all the wrong messages. 

So she resigned to wait until the photoshoot after all. Since, of course, he couldn’t keep up this act for several hours in a row. She could, but she was a professional. 

Her musings came to a halt as she heard the wonderful noise of Marinette’s scream. “MY EYES!!” 

Lila hurried from her nook to find out what had happened. Had someone sprayed her with mace? Pocket sand? 

No. Adrien was merely striking poses in front of her, and she had recoiled in horror. 

“Adrien!” She stated, aghast. “How could you?!” 

He posed again, butt in her direction. “You like?” 

“It’s foul. Are those crocs?!”

“Yep! I contemplated on getting the little ladybug plugs for the holes, but I didn’t really think it was worth it. After all, how often do you look at a man’s feet?” 

“In that outfit, it’s going to be too hard to tell what part is the worst.” Her eyes bounced over the competing patterns and made her dizzy. “Well here,” she handed over a hanger covered with a trash bag. “Your sin against fashion has been committed. I’m willing to do more, but don’t attach my name to it.” 

Adrien just laughed. “Don’t worry, Pooh Bear, your secret is safe with me.” 

Lila’s lips curled in disgust at the nickname. Obviously, she would tell Gabriel that Marinette was enabling his behavior. Maybe she could spin it as her influence all together. Yes, yes, that would work. Two stones and all that. 

—

After school, Lila rode with Adrien to the photoshoot. 

Boy, if she wanted a taste of what the day would be like, she certainly got it. And she should have taken the chance to run. 

“So Nino and I started playing this game with the guys in class,” Adrien had begun, without so much as a greeting. “Have you heard of Magic: The Gathering?” 

“...no?”

“Oh okay, so I’ll tell you all about it.” 

As a master manipulator, Lila understood the masterful art of conversation. There were several strategies she had developed over the years. Her favorite was ‘talk passionately and allow for natural lulls in explanation so they can ask questions’. It made people feel engaged and kept them coming back for more, while she was perceived as interesting and smart, but also humble.

However, it seemed that Adrien was utilizing the beginners mistake of ‘poorly explain a subject you’re not really passionate about without letting the other person talk’. Like an underpaid substitute teacher filling in for a class they don’t know much about.

“So like, there are these cards with different landscapes on them, and they’re all different based on color, right? So there’s water or islands for blue and mountains and stuff for red, right? And each one is worth mana. And you have to use mana to play a card. Except for lands, I think. You can play those whenever, except you have to draw them, you can’t just go searching through your deck. Unless a card tells you you can.” 

Finally, they arrived at the shoot, and Lila nearly fell out of the car in her haste to get away for some peace and quiet, just for a second. 

Who knew that boy could talk so much? 

—

Plagg and his mohawk were led to the makeup trailer. Thankfully for the hairstylist, it came with a salon sink, so Adrien didn’t have to go home and shower. 

“Sorry, Mr. Agreste,” the stylist said as she draped a cape on him. “We have to flatten the mohawk.” 

“That’s alright,” Plagg assured with a polite smile. “It served its purpose.”

“It was very well done, honestly,” she said with a laugh. “For not having the sides of your head shaved, that is.” 

“I had to work with what I had.” 

The stylist just hummed in understanding, as she started to rinse his hair, the gel melting and washing down the drain. 

The stylist sighed, and gave a little huff to herself. 

Plagg normally wouldn’t care, but if his meddling had inconvenienced someone else’s job, that would reflect poorly on Adrien. So, he asked. “Is everything alright?”

“Umm...” she paused, biting her lip. “Look, we’re friends right?” 

Plagg didn’t even know this person’s name. “Of course.” 

“Are you close to Miss Rossi? I know you guys are friends...” 

“I hate her guts.” Plagg declared with a broad smile. 

“Oh good!” She relaxed. “I really really hate working on her. And so does everyone else, and last time she was here, she was just��Ugh, the worst. I got so frustrated because Giuseppe and your father like her, so even if I complained, nothing would happen. Likely, I’m the one that would get in trouble. You remember Alexander, right? The lighting assistant?” 

No. Not one bit. “Yeah?” 

“Well, she yelled at him one time during a shoot, in the back. Apparently, she wanted coffee and he wouldn’t get it for her, even though that’s soooo not his job. So she complained to Giuseppe and got him fired! Honestly, I don’t know how he didn’t get akumatized over that.” 

“I don’t either!” Plagg said, with surprise. “I knew she was a pain, but yikes...” 

“I think you’re a really cool kid, Adrien. But she’s going around and telling everyone you got her this job and—“ she sighed. “People are getting resentful.” 

Now Plagg was mad. It was immediately apparent that Lila had a ‘if I can’t have them, no one can’ attitude, turning the staff on Adrien if she couldn’t win them over with her outlandish lies. Adrien couldn’t afford having that many enemies. He was too soft. 

“Actually...” Plagg began to explain how Lila had wound up with her job, lying to Nathalie and Gorilla to get access to his house, lying to his father to get on his good side, and all the things she did to Marinette, who he took the bullet for to protect. “She means a lot to me,” Plagg said, in regards to Marinette. “So I didn’t mind having to pretend to be Lila’s friend if it meant she could come back to school and not be harassed anymore. It seems that Lila has a loose form of friendship.” 

The stylist wiped her eyes. “Oh Adrien, you’ve got such a heart of gold. I’ll set everything straight with the team. Don’t you worry!” 

“I actually have a plan, that you might let everyone in on. And I apologize in advance.” 

“Lay it on me.” 

—

By time Lila was called in to get ready, Plagg had been groomed into a normal looking boy with normal looking hair and clothes. Though normal protocol usually had Lila in hair and make-up alone with the stylists, Plagg sat in a chair nearby, separated from her by a curtain. 

“Adrien? Shouldn’t you be out there?”

“Oh it’s okay, I wanted to keep telling you about this game.”

“Oh, well, you shouldn’t keep Giuseppe…”

“He won’t mind. So, there’s a bunch of colors, right? Red, Black, Green, Blue, White, and…one more. I think there’s one more.” 

A sigh was heard from the other side of the curtain. 

“No, no I was right, there’s only five. But you can combine them. But not like, mix them? It’s like, Blue-Black, and Red-Black. And Green-Blue. And so different colors have different themes, right? And the themes are different based on the set. Oh yeah, there’s different sets and Wizards of the Coast release like, two or three sets a year. I think. Like they had this one that was all about Dinosaurs and pirates. But they usually aren’t that wacky. Unless it’s a joke set. Which that one wasn’t. I can’t remember the name of it right now, but it started with an ‘I’.” And he was off, explaining all he could remember of the game, from what Adrien had told him, to what he had heard while the boys played at school. If he could find a point to elaborate on, he did. 

Every once in a while, he’d make eye contact with a staff member, who would in turn grin and give a secret thumbs up. 

He started to run out of steam while Lila was in makeup. 

Thankfully, one of the technicians with a grudge noticed, and helped him out. “Would you ever play competitively?” 

Through the mirror, Plagg could see the lightbulb go off over Lila’s head. “You know, my grandfather was one of the chess masters of the world. He won lots of tournaments, and I’m sure he’d love to give you some pointers if you were interested, Adrien.” 

The technician answered for him. “Chess? We’re talking about Magic: The Gathering. Two totally different games. The tournaments are pretty fun too, but I really enjoy playing at pre-releases. They usually only allow you to play with the set you’re buying, so you can’t look at them beforehand…” 

Plagg beamed at the guy, thrilled with how quickly he had shut Lila down. 

Lila, however, was undeterred. She met the eyes of the female stylist and just shrugged. “Boys, right? So, this weekend—“ 

“Shh,” the stylist hushed. “I’ve been trying for weeks to learn this game.” 

Lila crossed her arms and sat silently for the rest of the session.

Once the models were all dolled up, they were escorted out to the set, and Giuseppe got to work with posing. 

Here’s where Lila tried to make up for lost attention. 

“Oh Giuseppe! I had such a wonderful idea for the shoot today! Since the gardens are in full bloom—“

“Which reminds me!” Plagg snapped his fingers. “Green-Black combination cards are really unique because they create a bunch of minions. Like, the cards in them have the ability to spam the battlefield with like a bunch of little guys called tokens that take a lot of extra work to get rid of. Well, like, not a ton of extra work, because they only have like one HP, but like, it's more work then you would have had to do. Wait, white, not black. Actually, I think white is the best at tokens, my mistake.” 

Despite her best efforts, Lila could not suppress a full body eye roll. 

It was exactly what Plagg was waiting for, and he jumped in for the finisher. He turned his sad kitten eyes to her, looking like Puss in Boots from Shrek, and asked, in the most pathetic voice he could muster. “Am I annoying you?” 

Lila stared at him, as the staff and Giuseppe looked right at her, to see her response. 

“I…I…” she stammered. “N-no, not at all, Adrien. I…love hearing about this game.” 

He beamed. “Good! Because I have to tell you about my favorite combination of Blue-black. It’s really high in conditions and making things difficult for the opponents, right?” 

Lila’s nostrils flared, but she held back any other sign of frustration. It was remarkable, really. 

Plagg was quiet while Giuseppe gave directions, and during the actual shooting, but in between takes, when he didn’t have to be ‘professional’ he filled in the silence with whatever jargon he could find. He was wearing her down. 

“Alright,” Giuseppe finally said. “We’re all done with you, Lila. Now it’s just Adrien’s solo shoot. But you can stay if you like.” 

Lila was already halfway to the trailers. “I’m so sorry Giuseppe, I have somewhere I have to be this evening, so I’m going to head out. I’ll see everyone next time!” And she practically sprinted off set. 

Once she left, Giuseppe gave a loud sigh of relief. “Now let’s get some real work done.” 

—

Later that evening, when Adrien and Plagg had returned to the mansion, Adrien sat on the desk as Plagg scrolled online. Homework had been completed with ease, and it was still too early for bed.  

“What are you reading?” Adrien asked. 

“I’m trying to slog my way through the lore of that video game you like, the one with the Dragons. I have to have more ammunition the next time I deal with Lila. I almost ran out today.” 

“Is that what I sound like?”

“What?”

“You today, when you were talking about Magic. Is that what I sound like to you? Do I ramble on?” 

Plagg screwed up his lips in thought. “Mmmm, sometimes.” 

Adrien hunched in on himself. 

“But look. Culture and creative medium has grown astronomically in the last 200 years since I’ve been asleep. I want to know about what’s out there. I like hearing about things that you enjoy. Even if it is annoying sometimes, I still care about you. The reason I pulled this strategy is because Lila likes to talk, and she doesn’t like to listen. Even if I was talking passionately about something I knew a lot about, I doubt she would have cared. I hear how often she interrupts class.” 

Adrien hadn’t thought about it like that. 

“You know who Pavlov is, right?”

“Uh, the guy that did the experiment with the dog, right? He rang a bell and gave his dog a treat, and eventually the dog came to associate the bell with treats.” 

“Precisely. Humans are the same way. Knowing this principle is the easiest way to win people over. You have to make them associate you with good feelings. If you treat people well, be friendly, courteous, and funny, eventually, people will like to be around you. The same works in reverse. If I can associate myself with frustration and annoyance for Lila, she won’t want to be around me. Being straight up mean to her won’t work because she’ll see that as a challenge.”

“So you have to be subtle,” Adrien concluded.  “Thats…that’s genius.” 

“I know.” 

“So you don’t think I’m annoying?” 

Plagg rubbed him between the ears. “I only found you annoying when you would complain about Ladybug, your dad, or Lila. But now, in your shoes, I’ve realized how easy it is to get frustrated about these things. But hopefully soon enough, you won’t even have to worry about it.” 

Adrien smiled brightly. “Thanks Plagg. I hated this at first…but you really are making some progress.” 

“Told you. Now, help me pack. You have your first sleepover tomorrow night.” 

“My first sleepover, and I’m going to spend it crammed in a bag!”

[atiny-ahgase]

The Magic Of Love

Author’s note: Hey everyone it’s Gabby again. I’ve had this idea for a while now, but I just didn’t have time to write it, I hope that you all like it. I’m not really familiar with Witchcraft and honestly, I’m not familiar with anything even remotely mystical but I just got this idea and thought that it was cool. So, this is it, hope you like it.

Summary: Y/n is trying their best to balance being a witch and university student at the same time. While they were out shopping for materials they bump into a rather handsome stranger. Small talk revealed that they actually had some classes together like Medieval History and Literature. They soon became hyper-aware of his presence and began wishing for his company. Not trusting your own charms to impress him you decide to conjure up your charms ‘if you get my drift’. What happens when you turn to magic to solve your problems?

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

Pairing: Hongjoong x Gender Neutral Reader

Word Count: 4.8k

Genre: Fluff, School au

Contains: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Magic but not really, Gender Neutral Reader,

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Releasing a loud sigh as you feel your perspiration dripping from your brow. “Why did I have to go shopping on literally the hottest day of the year?” you thought as you took a left down the alley slightly tripping over a piece of trash. “There is a trash can like 1 centimetre away, what the hell?” you state while looking at the trashcan in question. With your attention focused on the sheer laziness and disregard that individuals had for their surroundings and the environment as a whole you didn’t notice that you were walking while not exactly looking where you were going. The fact only becoming aware to you when you bumped into someone, causing you to drop along with all of your brown paper grocery bags onto the cold street floor.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry,” you begin while looking up at the stranger whom you collided with. Looking up at him the first thing you realized was his bright blue hair. The cold hue contrasting with the warmth of this eyes. His hair reminded you of the crystal clear skies, vast and beautiful, deep and mesmerizing. His eyes like the brown tree trunks that bordered your childhood home; a brilliant brown filled with life and warmth. “No it’s my fault,” you heard the stranger say, the cheerful tone in his voice catching you off-guard. “Are you okay?” he inquired while bending down to help you up from the spot where you had fallen.

“I’m fine, thanks,” you begin, “I’m a lot tougher than I look”, you beamed at him. You had never seen anyone as handsome as he was; surely you would have remembered. Looking up at him you smile brightly as you hear him release a soft chuckle at your comment, his dazzling smile shining like the midday sun, beautiful and blinding. You grasped his hand in yours, face heating up as you feel the warmth of his hand. Rising up from the floor you quickly dust off your jeans and palms before thanking the kind stranger.

“Thank you, and it really wasn’t your fault,” you confessed, “I just zoned out for a minute.” “Well as long as you’re okay then I guess it doesn’t really matter who’s at fault it is,” he replied before shrugging slightly. Stooping down you begin to retrieve all of your fallen items, placing them back into their bags. As you stayed on the floor you heard the steps of the blue-haired boy begin to fade, guess he’s leaving now.

After collecting all of your things you stand up, holding the paper bags in your hands once more. “I think you forget something,” you hear a voice just a few steps ahead of you. “This one must have gotten away from you,” he joked before handing you a silver can. The sun shone off of its ridges, reflecting the light onto the dark, dismal alleyway walls. “Thank you...again,” you say shyly before taking the can and placing it in your bag. “I’m Hongjoong by the way,” he says while extending his hand to you before pulling it back towards him, a look of embarrassment clearly on his face. “Sorry, your hands are full, you couldn’t shake my hand anyway-,” he began blabbering more to himself than to you. “I’m Y/n,” you interrupted. 

He flashes you another smile as you begin to walk forward, you had finally finished shopping for all of the ingredients that you needed. Not wanting to endure the heat of the day anymore you were heading home to study your potion brewing. You had a big exam coming up and you need to pass if you wanted to be promoted to a higher rank, but at the rate, you were going that seemed almost impossible.

 ----

You had been practising witchcraft for about 5 years now; learning about it from your deceased grandmother. Things were incredibly difficult for you at the beginning as you tried to catch up with your peers. Everyone seemed to be better than you, granted you did start later than everyone else but the school board clearly didn’t care. Because of this, you struggled to make friends and eventually just gave up on the idea as a whole realizing that it wasn’t worth it. 

Usual school wasn’t as difficult to make friends but the relationships never seemed to last long, every time you even tried to get close to someone the relationship acted like a castle of sand, crumbling the moment you try to grasp it. So you cut yourself off from that part of life completely, finding the work unnecessary and the pain too detrimental. Choosing to solely focus on your studies in both usual school and magic school, convincing yourself that relationships were unnecessary especially love. Falling in love was like basically signing your own death wish, like falling off a cliff to your rocky demise.

You were now entering university as well as still furthering your studies in the art of witchcraft. You knew that it was going to be difficult but you weren’t willing to part from either aspects of your life just yet. You had a huge exam coming up and needed to study your potions and spell casting, hence the reason for your unusual shopping trip. You were never really the best at potion making always seeming to choose the wrong ingredients or quantities almost always resulting in an explosion.

Hopefully, you’d have better luck in university; you were just starting a new year at a whole new school filled with a bunch of new people. You are really excited to start especially since all of your past peers opted for going to a school outside of your district. So you didn’t have to worry about your old bullies rearing their ugly heads at you.

-----

While walking you noticed that Hongjoong was going in the same direction as you, which wasn’t too odd considering that it was a pretty small town; there weren’t many places to really go. But that was one thing that you really loved about it, you found comfort in its familiarity. “So are you a local here?” you hear Hongjoong ask from beside you, probably tired of the deafening silence which had formed. “Well kinda”, you began “, I moved here when I was really young and I’ve been here ever since.” 

You both seemed to click almost instantly and you welcomed his company, it had been such a long time since you’ve actually had a real conversation with someone. For being a complete stranger he knew more about you in the few minutes that you both walked together than anyone else in your life. It was amazing how he just broke down walls that you hadn’t even realized you had formed, turning them to rubble before your very eyes. You could honestly talk to him for hours and never get bored, he made every topic sound so riveting, you found yourself hanging off of every word that escaped his lips.

To your dismay, you spotted the bright red roses of your apartment garden much sooner than you had wanted. You couldn’t hide the small frown that had spread across your face once you were hit with the realization that you’d both me parting ways soon. “This is my stop,” you state while gesturing to your apartment building. “Well, I guess that I’ll see you around the Y/n,” he chimes in, sending you another one of his stunning smiles which you immediately return.

You both say your goodbyes before you walk up to your brick staircase and enter your apartment. Upon closing your front door you lent against the cold wood, back pressed up against it you released a soft sigh. He was nice, really nice, it had been so long since you had last enjoyed having a conversation with someone. Most of your conversations lately consisted of bickering with the other witches in your class or defending yourself against the bullies in your school. You had forgotten just how much you had missed pleasant conversations like that, the last time you had smiled so brightly was when you had told your grandmother that you had gotten into magic school. She was so happy, her face lit up like the brightest star on a Christmas tree. That was one of the best memories that you had shared with her; she was always a lively spirit, her young soul would often rub off on you, convincing you to look at the world in a more exciting light. You missed her, you truly did but you’d never forgotten everything that she had taught you, all of the time that you had spent together.

-------

The blaring sound of your morning alarm cut through the silence of the early morning like a knife through butter, shattering your pleasant dreams. Sighing loudly you rollover smashing your hand against the screen in a few futile attempts to turn off your alarm. You groan as you rise from your bed rubbing your eyes in an attempt to remove all remaining sleepiness. Today was the first day of school and even though you weren't really planning on trying to impress anyone you still wanted to look good for yourself. Rolling off of bed you readied yourself for the day deciding on is a simple button-up shirt with your favourite pair of blue jeans and converse sneakers. Your jeans were slightly rolled at the ankle allowing your mismatched socks to be seen, they were honestly your favourite parts of the outfit. Flinging your leather bag over your shoulder you grabbed your phone and keys before exiting the door. The journey to university wasn't that long since your house is fairly close to the campus.

Once you had arrived on compass you unzipped your bag in search of your schedule for the day. The edges of the paper blew violently due to the strong winds you were experiencing. Clutching the paper tightly in an attempt to keep it from flying away, you quickly skimmed through the page in search of your first classroom. Reading over your schedule you notice that your 1st class of the day was , Medieval History, the second floor of the history building room 208. Carefully placing the paper back into your bag you zipped it up before briskly walking to your class. Passing numerous students and faculty members you finally made your way to the large brown building. “How long was this building established?” you wondered before pushing open the doors to enter the Hall.  

Walking to the elevator you pressed the button and waited for it to reach your floor. Standing there you rocked on the soles of your feet mind aimlessly wandering before you heard an all too familiar voice. Looking away from the closed elevator door you notice a fluffy head of bright blue hair. “Are you stalking me, mister Joong?” I enquire, a slight playfulness in my voice. He chuckles from beside you before replying “So you’re really walking around here thinking that my first name is Hong and my family name is Joong?” he queries while cocking his eyebrow at you. 

Smiling brightly you turn to him, “I actually have no idea what your last name is but I had already committed to the sentence so there was no turning back”, you reply. “So you go to school here?” he continues while entering the elevator. “Nah, I just like to take pictures in front of the art wall,” you joke while standing beside him. You reach forward to press the elevator button but your hand stops midway when you realize that your floor has already been pressed. “You heading to room 208?” you question, noticing the textbook in his hand, it's the same textbook that you have in your bag. It was seated comfortably between your journal and binder. “Who is stalking who now?” he jokes, smiling brightly while leaning against the shimmering silver of the elevator walls.

Heading into class, you both sat next to each other at the front row closest to the door. Not long after your arrival, your lecturer began well...lecturing. Retrieving your book from your bag you began diligently taking notes, your attention hanging off of every word that he spoke. Glancing over at Hongjoong you see him slightly hunched over his deck, eyebrows slightly furrowed in concentration as he writes in his book. The class was fairly short as it was the first day and before you knew it you were packing up, getting ready to head to your other class. You and Hongjoong walked side by side discussing the lecture as well as all of your other classes. “I have History now what about you?” he inquired as you both reach the ground floor of the building. “I have a free period now but I have to go to the main admin building to sort out some stuff,” you responded. “Ugh I envy those guys at admin, they get to spend more time with you,” he spoke while nudging you gently. You couldn't help the blush that crept up on your face, heating up your body. “I’ll see you next class right,” you continued before exchanging numbers with each other.

----

“Okay, so I add this powder to the base and the liquid should turn from clear to purple right?” you ask yourself while standing over your pot. This was the 5th time you were trying this out with no success. This was not the time to be messing up, your potions exam is in 1 week. At this rate, you'll never be promoted to a higher rank. Looking down at the pot you sigh defeatedly “, Still clear.” You slumped down onto the pillowy cushions of your mint green couch allowing your body to be wrapped in its soft embrace. “This isn’t amateur hour Y/n, it wasn't supposed to happen like this,” you spoke softly and you were right. It wasn't supposed to happen like this, you weren't supposed to spend all your time with him, you needed to study and you knew that but then why? Why were you so drawn to him? This had never happened before so why now? Why him?

You've been in university for 2 months now and you'd hardly studied for anything whether it be magic-related or not. But do you know what you have done? Hang out with Hongjoong a lot, you both went to the movies, campus café and library under the pretense of studying but you both just ended up talking about your favourite authors and guess what? You both liked the same writer. You had never meshed with anyone that well before. You felt like you could talk to him for hours about everything and nothing at all. He made you feel, for lack of better words, like you were floating. You could talk with him for hours and it would only seem like a few minutes to you. If you should spend your entire university life next to him you would.

But you knew that you couldn’t because he's way too popular to want you by his side 24/7. This thought became clear to you when you had agreed to meet up with Hongjoong at your University Café. Walking into the quaint little shop you were greeted by the smell of freshly baked banana bread; your favourite. Scanning the shop you quickly spotted Hongjoong sitting in the corner with 7 other guys, seemingly causing chaos in the once quiet shop. You smiled brightly as you waved at him, gulping down that feeling of social awkwardness you always get around large groups you sat next to him. He had saved a seat for you.

After ordering your coffee the guys all started to have what appeared to be a very lively conversation but you couldn't focus on anything they were saying. It was something about a party that was happening later in the week that was surely gonna have a bunch of really attractive people attending. That was kinda when you zoned out, Hongjoong was out of your league and you knew it. He was smart, sweet, talented, handsome, caring and so much more. Meanwhile, you were struggling to keep up with your workload, your hair was a mess and you have to mentally prepare yourself before even raising your hand in class to ask a question. He seemed to be so put together while you were just falling apart more and more each day.

But still, you wanted to be beside him even if it was only for a little bit longer, you weren't ready to let go of him yet. Releasing a loud sigh over how absolutely stupid you were being you plopped yourself down; rather clumsily I might add, unto your couch causing the book which was hanging on for dear life to fall onto the cold wooden floor. Bending down you realize that it was one of the magic books that you had borrowed from the library. Picking it up you see a piece of paper slip out from between the pages. Grasping it in your hands you carefully unfold it and read the words. “Love Potion”, you read “, Upon consumption, the subject will confess to the first person they see.” You rub your eyes briskly to ensure that what you were seeing was right. A potion that makes you fall in love with the first person you saw? Surely that was too good to be true. If you were to use it on- no you can't even think about using it on Hongjoong. What were you even thinking? Practicing unsanctioned magic was against the rules. But...why was that the only thing stopping you from making this potion? You are pulled from your thoughts by the ringing sound of your cell phone.

“Hello?” you answer, too preoccupied to look at the caller ID. Listening through the phone all you hear is hushed mumbling. Looking at your screen you realized that it was Hongjoong, but why would he be calling at this hour? He was supposed to be at a party with the others. He must have called you by mistake, you deduce. Readying yourself to end the call you stopped when you heard an unfamiliar voice come through the phone. “I like you,” it said. In that instance, you felt as though your entire world was crashing down before you. He was being confessed to? Why did this even shock you? Someone like Hongjoong would surely find someone to date in a matter of time, he's just that wonderful. Of course, people would fall for him, you definitely did. “Sorry,” you hear him say in that oh so sweet voice that you loved so very much “, I have my plate full with school so I don't really think that I should be getting into a relationship”.

That was all that you needed to hear. Sure you felt sorry for the person that had confessed, at least they had the balls to do it, unlike a certain someone. That was when you had finally made your choice, you were making that potion. You didn't care if you got caught by your magic teachers, Hongjoong was worth the risk. Reading over the list of ingredients you ransacked your apartment in search of everything that you needed. Thankfully you had everything since you had gone shopping for more supplies only days before. Looking over your instructions again you noticed a small disclaimer at the bottom of the page. “Disclaimer: Potion will be ineffective if the subject is already in love; there is no force stronger than true love”. Were you really going to do this? Yeah, you were.

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

Everything was finally in place. You had made the potion and mixed it in with cupcake batter in order to mask the taste. You had invited Hongjoong over for a study session which he immediately accepted because even he knew that you needed all the help you could get. Placing your hand over your heart you attempted to calm your breathing before he arrived. Too late. The ringing of your doorbell caused you to jump from your seat. Trying to keep your cool you opened the door and smiled at him. He wore his blue hair slightly wavy which gave it this adorable fluffy look, he looked so cute. He had a bright yellow barrett and matching yellow turtle neck which he wore under his opened coat. Upon seeing you he returned your smile before stepping into your apartment.

“Something smells good”, he states while resting his coat on your coach. “Yeah I baked cupcakes,” you chimed in while trying to sound excited. “Shouldn’t you be studying instead of baking,” he inquired while quirking a playful eyebrow at you. You chuckled at his playfulness before heading to the kitchen to grab 2 muffins. “I just wanted to thank you for coming over to help me. You didn’t have to so I really appreciate it,” you said before handing him the muffin. “What if I want that one?” he asked while pointing to the muffin in your other hand and pouting. “I picked this one out for you because it has the most blueberries and they remind me of your hair,” you whined at him. You could of sworn that you had seen him blush. “Thank you,” he mumbles before taking the muffin from your hand and taking a bite. In those moments you thought that your heart was going to explode. This was what you had been waiting for and it frightened you so much more than you had expected.

“Y/n I love”, he began while wiping the muffin crumbs off of his mouth “, these muffins”. You felt your heart sink and you knew that Hongjoong could tell. If the potion didn't work there was only one reason why; he had liked someone else. You tried your best to play it off but there was honestly no hiding your disappointment. You ate your muffin before you both sat on the couch to go over your notes and begin studying for your upcoming exam but Hongjoong knew that you weren't feeling it. “Let’s take a break okay Y/n,” he said before standing up to stretch his legs. You, however, stayed completely still on the couch, your mind somewhere else completely. 

“When exams are over Mingi is gonna hold a party, well it's more like a little get together. Do you wanna come?” Hongjoong asked from beside your window sill. The silver moonlight illuminating his face so flawlessly. Your mind wandered back to the party that Hongjoong had gone to previously, the bad memories of his confession eating you up inside. “How was the last party?” you asked, catching Hongjoong off guard. “Same old same old I guess. Would have been more fun if you were there,” he smiled at you, an uncertain look in his bright brown eyes. “So nothing interesting happened?” you pushed, you had no idea why you were pestering him. You were just so mad and disappointed in yourself that you had to let it out. Granted absolutely nothing was Hongjoong’s fault you still needed to get out your frustrations and he was the only one here so...

He paused for a moment, attempting to recall the events from that night. “San and Wooyoung threw Sangie into the pool. It was pretty funny,” he smiled at you. That had always been your weakness. He had always been your weakness. Even in your shocked and disappointed state he still managed to make you smile. You were so jealous of the person who had his heart, you hoped that they would cherish it the same way that you did. The rest of the night carried on with no hiccups, Hongjoong thought you, you kinda listened and kinda stole glances at him every chance you could get. Just because he was in love with someone else didn’t mean that you weren’t still in love with him. After about 5 hours of you being almost completely lost, Hongjoong decided that it was time to call it quits for the night. Although you were happy that you could finally be alone with your thoughts you also dreaded this moment because you had to now be alone with your thoughts. There was no Hongjoong to distract you from well...Hongjoong. You both said you goodbyes before he pulled you into a hug, one hand resting on your back as the other one stayed on the back of your head, rubbing it gently. You rested your head on his shoulder and breathed in his scent. You hand never hugged him before, he smelt of cologne and vanilla. You were determined to engrave that scent into your memory because you probably weren’t going to be getting any more hugs from him after what you were about to do.

So what if the potion didn’t work? So what if he loved someone else? Honestly, who cares? The only thing you cared about was him and you needed him to know that. You couldn’t just sit around and mope about it, you needed to let it out, otherwise, how would you heal? You gripped the back of his shirt when you felt him begin to pull away. “Just a moment more,” you thought. You felt him stiffen in your arms but he simply wrapped his arms around you once more and pulled you even closer to him. That was all it took for your heart to burst. All of the emotions that you had harboured for those 2 months, 1 week and 2 days were finally breaking through to the surface and you could do little to stop it. You felt a single run down your face, its warmth paling in comparison to the warmth of Hongjoong’s embrace. You opened your mouth to speak, thinking that it would be easier for you to confess if you didn’t have to see the disappointment in his face. But he beat you to it.

“If you keep doing things like this I’m going to get the wrong idea,” he whispered, arms engulfing your body in his own. “If you keep breaking down my walls I’ll be left defenseless,” he continued as he nuzzled his face into your neck, his warm breath tickling you slightly. Were you hearing correctly? Was he actually saying this to you? You gripped his shirt even tighter, nails slightly grazing the skin on his back, but he didn’t seem to mind. “I-If you’re defenseless,” you began while swallowing the lump in your throat, your voice shivering in anxiety “, then I’ll protect you. That’s the deal; my heart for yours.” You thought that it was impossible for Hongjoong to hold you tighter than he already was but Hongjoong always seems to find a way. “No take-backs okay? Once I give you my heart it’s yours forever,” he spoke pulling away from you, his eyes searching yours for any ounce of uncertainty. Finding none he gently cupped your cheek, his thumb aimlessly drawing circles on your skin as he smiled at you, but the smile never reached to his eyes as his hand slowly shifted down your cheek to allow his thumb to caress your lips. They quivered at the contact as your body froze under his intense gaze. You had never seen him look that way before, and the fact that he was looking at you made this moment even more unbearable.

“Joong,” you squeaked out, eyes silently pleading for him to do something, anything. Once you had broken the silence that was the last straw, it was as though your voice was the last raindrop that broke through a dam of emotion. His hand stayed on your cheek as the other wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. In direct contrast with the hasty movements of his hands his plush lips glided across yours with such gentleness, it felt as though you were kissing a feather, light and airy. You both eventually pulled away from the kiss, in desperate need of air but that didn’t stop Hongjoong from placing small, breathless kisses along your neck and literally, anywhere he could attach his lips to. You chuckled slightly as his hair tickled your sensitive skin. Placing your hand on the nape of his neck, you caressed his head, fingers tangling in the blue ocean of his head. “I love you so much Y/n,” you hear him mumble from against your neck. You couldn’t stop the blush that had crept up your face at his words. You had dreamt about him saying those words to you for so long and now that he had finally said it you feel as though your heart was going to explode. But you couldn’t let that happen, your heart was his now. “I love you to Joongie,” you softly whisper as you wrap your arms around him.

[anika-ann]

The Line between Respectful and Stupid - Pt.4

Sweet Dreams

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader       Word count: 1700

Warnings:  none...? Fluff overdose?

Summary: Steve dreams.  (That’s it, that’s the chapter.)

Story Masterlist

Steve was dreaming a nice dream. It had not started out pretty as he was re-dreaming falling straight into the deep ocean, the sharp icy water eating him alive, cutting into his skin, his muscles, his bones… but then something changed. When he squeezed his eyes shut to keep the scream of pain inside – because opening his mouth would mean letting the cold water in – he felt something shift. The chill was gone.

He opened his eyes to a whole new world. There was a hand patting his shoulder, Bucky’s laugh echoing in his ears, and the warm summer breeze was caressing his hair, the water of the lake they went camping to tickling his feet.

“Hey, punk, you with me?”

The night was falling, but the air proudly carried the summer heat, still warming his skin. Steve focused his gaze, finding himself staring at a woman who was walking in the sand barefoot. The wind was playing a teasing game with her long airy skirt, twirling it around her feet; with her hair lightly fondled by the force of nature, she appeared almost ethereal. She was smiling for herself as the water caressed her feet.

“You should talk to her, ya’ know.”

Steve nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard his friend again. “What? No. It… she wouldn’t want me anyway. Sorry to zone out, you were saying?” He shook his head, forcing himself to look back at Bucky.

“Man, you got it bad. And come on! Who wouldn’t want you?”

“How about every woman I’ve ever encountered?”

“Peggy Carter one of them?” Bucky asked him sarcastically and Steve was surprised to find himself not in a body of a scrawny Steve Rogers from Brooklyn who had been going camping with his best friend’s family, but in Captain America’s. Huh.

It was when he realized he was dreaming a new dream and not reliving a memory. Bucky was still here as if he hadn’t fallen off the train, Peggy was clearly in his past for some reason, and thinking about it, this woman definitely looked familiar, yet didn’t belong to this moment at all.  

The strangest thing was that the dream didn’t sadden him, didn’t fill him with the heavy nostalgia it usually did. He casted a glance at the agent he had only just met and was now casually walking in his consciousness – she quickly escaped his gaze when he caught her staring, a shy smile curling up her lips.

Steve sighed. “It’s not a good idea.”

“’Cause?”

“She’s an agent. We work together,” Steve replied with a shrug, his eyes losing themselves in the warm colours of the horizon. The sun had set a long time ago, but the sky was still shining pink and orange undertones. It was a sight to behold – yet, he felt an urge to look back at you instead, seeking a different kind of beauty, breath-taking all the same.

“And?”

“And it would get in the way. Not to mention that she would only want me for the title if for anything at all.” They all do, don’t they?

A slap on his bicep startled him. “Dumbass. She gave you that impression? She seemed awfully cosy with Steve Rogers if you ask me.”

“Not that you would know. You’re just in my head, jerk.”

“Not the one who’s being a jerk, punk. Or you know, asshat, ‘cause clearly your buttock is so tight that it’s worth a tribute. She’s fun. I like her.”

“Well, you can ask her out. I’m sure she’s smiling at you and not at me anyway,” Steve sighed again, sparing another glance at you.

As if you could hear their conversation, you looked directly into Steve’s eyes and gave him a sweet smile that left no room for doubt that it only belonged to him.

Dammit. Why did it send his heart racing, spreading even more warmth into his body? Why did it move him?

“You just said I’m only in your head, which kinda makes me dating her a bit difficult. ‘sides, she’s into you, not me. Don’t be an ass and ask her out before the chance slips through your fingers again. She’ll say yes.”

Because this was only a dream, Steve felt himself rise to his feet unwittingly, slowly walking to you. A blush crept up to your cheeks when you noticed, your fingers seeking your skirt still gently rocked by the wind to fumble with the fabric.

“Hey.”

“Hi, Steve,” you greeted him, peeking at him from under your eyelashes. God, had he even seen something so beautiful?

To his horror, he felt a wave of vertigo swaying him and he barely kept himself upright. When he overpowered it, his heart was beating frantically, his breathing heavy… his frame definitely smaller, because he was about your height now, smaller even.

He looked up; your brows were furrowed in concern. The sweet smile was gone.

Oh no.

The little confidence he had to begin with disappeared at instant.

“I-I-“

“Steve? You okay?”

Your hands were on his arms – all bone and skin –, steadying him as if he was about to faint and Steve didn’t think he had ever felt so embarrassed in his life.

“Yeah, I’m just gonna- gonna-- I-“

He looked over his shoulder at Bucky, only to see him giving a thumbs-up. Steve’s face felt even hotter then, when he turned back to you.

“You gonna what?” you encouraged him softly, hesitantly letting go of him.

It was as if the cold wrapped him again without the heat of your hands.

“Gonna… go. It was nice to meet you,” he stuttered, gulping against the huge lump in his throat and you pursed your lips at that, your face falling.

“Oh. Alright then. I thought you wanted to ask me something,” the sadness in your voice made his chest ache. You seemed so disappointed. But that was because the captain’s persona disappeared, yes? It couldn’t be anything else.

He hesitated though, your eyes still at him, open and inviting.

“I… would you… would you like to— to go dancing sometimes?” he babbled out, panicking at instant.

Really? Dancing?! Was he insane? Wasn’t it enough that he was a ninety-pound nothing again, he wanted to make a fool of himself in a ballroom as well? He was so small you could step on him! Why had he asked that? More importantly, why on Earth would you say yes? Not to mention he would step on your feet, because he was a terrible dancer!

He was ultimately taken aback by the bright smile that appeared on your lips, lighting up your face.

“Yes, I’d love to.”

He blinked, all the negative thoughts gone as if he snapped his fingers.

Really? Like… yes? “You… really?”

You giggled at his confusion. “Yes.”

“But, I’m…” he licked him lips, fighting the need to check on Bucky, because this was getting more and more surreal with each second passing. “I’m just… this, me.”

You watched him puzzled as he gestured towards his body, before you rolled your eyes – and honestly, that was the most you gesture he had seen the dreamt-you do. You took his hand then, squeezing lightly.

“Yes. Yes, you are you. And? Your point?”

The blatant disbelief in your eyes took him by surprise to put it mildly and made him release a shocked gasp at the pleasant feeling tingling in his fingertips. He shook his head, not understanding, but deciding to go along with this for as long as it lasted.

He smiled at you, touched by your sentiment. “And nothing... I guess.”

“Good,” you whispered gently, kissing his cheek lightly. “Looking forward to it.”

When Steve’s eyelids fluttered open, it took him a while to remember where he was, the aura of the dream fading away unusually slowly. He suspected the warmth he was wrapped in was to blame as well as the dusky room.

And then there was the feeling of a hand in his own, enveloped between his palms he had folded under his cheek. With a rapidly beating heart, his gaze followed the line of the wrist, forearm, the delicate crook of the elbow, bandaged arm and shoulder, only for his sight to land on your face.

That was when the true shock came; finding you by his bed, resting your head on the mattress by his torso with a hand reaching out to him as if in a gesture of comfort. Your features were soft and relaxed, an inconspicuous smile on your lips despite the clearly uncomfortable position and your hand snatched away from you.

Steve felt ashamed when he imagined what could have led to this very moment. You must have caught him in a nightmare. Clearly, you had tugged him in more covers, because when he dreamed of the least pleasant landing in his life, he always woke up shivering, unable to warm up, hence rarely falling asleep again.

But you, you had managed to silence his mind. Thanks to you, he had been sleeping soundly, having sweet dreams even. No matter how embarrassed he was, he couldn’t help but smile tenderly at your care – a care of a complete (and who was he kidding, very beautiful) stranger he had just met.

He resisted the urge to kiss the back of our hand which he had stolen for himself and decided it was time to get up. You would have a terrible cramp in your neck and back from the strange position, not to mention you were sleeping on the cold floor.

Unsure how to wake you up gently, he caressed you hand and forearm.

You woke up with a jolt and a blush in your cheeks, the same blush he had seen in his dream. Thank god you couldn’t read minds, because if you knew what he had been dreaming about, you would run away, screaming. Potentially contacted SHIELD’s HR department.

“Hey. I mean, morning, Capt—Steve,” you corrected yourself quickly, your voice hoarse with sleep.

Despite the obvious unspoken awkwardness, Steve smiled as if he knew you would never mention his nightmares or this peculiar rouse to anyone; and he was simply grateful for that.

“Hey, yourself.”

Part 5 (final)

Tags: @mermaidxatxheart​

I’m giving myself cavities with this thing. Heh, who cares.

[temsikghosts]

Ghost Swap

treat for my dear friend @playghosttrick !!! @fyeahghosttrick

Prompt: Yomiel gets dragged to the beach with Fiansissel and he hates the ocean SO MUCH. Can be funny or depressing or both!

I wrote something based on one of my old ideas and I hope you like it!

Ugh… How did I get into this mess?

“Yomiel! Honey, talk to me!” I could hear Sissel’s worried voice from somewhere. I felt someone shake my body a bit.

“Sissel, don’t shake him like that! Let me check on him. Yomiel, can you hear me?” It was a grave, male voice this time. Was it Jowd? 

I couldn’t remember anything and this somehow made me feel even worse. “Ughn….” Was the only thing I could manage to let out.

“Look, he’s waking up!” It was Sissel’s voice again and as I tried to open my eyes, I could see her hovering over me. Or barely could see her, because my vision was still trying to adapt to the bright light of the environment.

“W-What… what happened?” I blurted out. My head was spinning and as I tried to properly wake up, I could feel I was lying down in some sort of fabric. The light was just too bright to get used to and my already sensitive eyes were having a lot of difficulty to try processing what was going on and I suddenly realized I was without my sunglasses for some reason, so instead of relying on my weak eyes, I searched the ground to feel where in the world I was when I felt sand beneath my fingers.

“You passed out, honey. Oh my gods, I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have—” Sissel was cut short by the male voice again.

“It’s okay, Sissel, it wasn’t your fault.” Then I felt a large hand on my shoulder. I couldn’t properly see in this bright sunlight, but I knew who it was. It was Jowd. “You’re okay there, Yomiel?”

“Yeah, just… I need my sunglasses, please. It’s so hard to see anything in this fucking strong sunlight.” I said tiredly as I finally managed to sit down. Then the memories just came rushing back to me.

----

It’s crazy to think about how time flies. It seemed like it was just yesterday that I was released from prison, but that had been a year ago. Sissel and I got married recently and we were just back from our honeymoon when Jowd and Alma asked us for a family trip to celebrate as a family. A family. That was a weird word to me. My family life was so messed up that for years I’ve been wishing for my ideal definition of family. And now, looking at Jowd, Alma, Kamila, Sissel (and I mean both)... Despite the awkwardness and guilt I still feel towards them about the things I’ve done to them in the past, I can’t help to shake the feeling that I’m in the right place. Is this what it feels like to be in a family?

So yeah, we agreed to it. Sissel had been all excited about it, of course, while I’ve been really nervous. I didn’t know what to expect from this trip and I hoped things would turn out alright. What got me worried though, was actually where we were going to spend this vacation. 

We were going to spend a weekend at Jowd’s beachside home.

I had to admit I wasn’t really fond of the idea of getting too close to the ocean again, but I guess as long as I stayed on firm land, I would be okay. I knew it wasn’t Jowd’s idea either, he didn’t seem too fond of the ocean too after the whole submarine incident. But we couldn’t say no to our women, could we?

So there we were, hosted in Jowd and Alma’s beachside house. There was an entire room for me and Sissel and I still remember Jowd’s rule about using the bedroom.

“Yomiel, Sissel, I know you two just came back from a heated honeymoon, but please, no doing anything improper while Kamila is around. This is a family vacation.”

“Geez, we’re not that vulgar, Jowd!” I rolled my eyes, but Sissel let out an embarrassed giggle. It’s true that Sissel and I got��� a little busy during our honeymoon, but I knew it wouldn’t be polite of us to do this kinda stuff in someone else’s house. 

In the afternoon, we packed our stuff and went to the beach. Kamila was busy building sand castles with cat Sissel (yes, of course she brought the cat with her. And honestly, I was glad to have my best friend with me on this trip too.) Lynne had come too (it was like she was already part of Jowd’s family) and she would play around with Kamila and cat Sissel and Missile. Good thing pets were allowed on this beach. 

I, of course, was standing FAR AWAY from the ocean, under the beach umbrella, safe from the burning sun and working with my laptop. Of course I would bring my laptop for the trip. There were some projects I could work on while everyone else was having fun. Besides, I would stay safe and far away from the sea, as it should be. But of course, sometimes I would lift my eyes from the computer screen to stare at Sissel. Gods, she looked so wonderful in a bikini. At least one good thing came out of being in this hellish place. The way her skin looked so beautiful under the sun, not to mention the tiny drops of sweat that made her skin sparkle under the sunlight, making her look even more desirable… Damn. I found myself licking my lips in lust and, for a moment, I mentally cursed Jowd for his stupid rule about me and Sissel “not doing anything improper while we’re hosted in his house.” So, to take my mind out of my “improper thoughts”, I tried to focus back on my coding. But just as I came back to writing...

“Seriously, Yomiel? You’re working while we’re on vacation? Who even brings a laptop to the beach?” I heard Sissel complaining. Sigh. Just when I was trying to concentrate on the code...

“Sissy, love, you know I’m not fond of beaches.” I protested quietly, but she didn’t seem ready to give up.

“No, no, no. Turn this off, I want you to come swim with me!” She literally took the laptop from my hands and put it on the table.

“SWIM? Babe, you know I can’t swim!” I started to panic as she pulled me from the chair and started dragging me towards the sea.

“We’re not going too far, I swear! We’re only going where the water hits on our knees. Besides, you’ll be with me and I CAN swim, so I can save you if anything goes wrong!” She winked at me, but I couldn’t shake this dreadful feeling out of me. The closer she dragged me to the ocean, the closer I was to panicking.

“Sissel, PLEASE, no! I-I-I don’t like the sea! I-It’s too d-d-dangerous, e-e-even for those who can swim! L-Let’s go back, please!” I tried to convince her one last time.

“Please, Yommy! Just this once! Do it for me, please…” She looked at me with her ‘kitten eyes’ face. The one she always used whenever she wanted to convince me of something. I could never say no to that face. But the ocean….

I looked over at Jowd, who was helping Kamila with the sand castle. I tried to ask him for help, but Sissel managed to push me closer towards the water and I could already feel it under my feet.

The cold sensation of the water under my feet, along with the furious roar of the waves got me thinking back of that dark, sinking submarine and how I was supposed to be left there with the debris, forgotten, like a complete, lost soul. 

The memories of that night came rushing to me all at once and I could feel as if I was trapped in that submarine again, sinking slowly towards the bottom of an endless sea.

Then the world seemed to disappear around me.

---

Back to the present, as I woke up I could still feel myself shaking in fear. Sissel was feeling terrible about it and she was apologizing all the time for trying to force me to get into the water with her. She had brought me my sunglasses and a coconut so I could drink some of its water. It helped me to feel a bit better for a second.

“You sure you’re okay, Yomiel?” Jowd asked again. Even Kamila, Lynne and Alma were standing nearby and everyone seemed worried about me.

“I… guess….” The real answer was ‘no, I’m not’, but I didn’t want to make Sissel feel worse. But I guess Jowd understood the real meaning of my words. He already knew how much I hated the idea of standing close to the ocean when in the other timeline, I was supposed to be left alone in that sinking submarine.

(It’s okay, Yomiel, you’re safe now.) cat Sissel’s voice echoed in my mind. The black kitten was now sitting on my lap, staring at me intently with his big amber eyes. (Though I understand why you freaked out. Water is the worst.)

(Do you want to come back to the house with your wife? I can stay here with Kamila, Alma and Lynne. And.. huh… You two can have a time for yourselves, if this will help you get your mind of what happened.) Jowd’s voice echoed through our Ghost World connection.

(What? But you said…)

(I said ‘no doing anything improper while Kamila’s around’. But we’ll be here on the beach so you two can have the house for yourselves for a while.) He winked playfully. Gods, I couldn’t believe he was really willing to pass over his own rule for my sake.

(And we can talk about the ocean incident later.) The cat said. (That is, if you want to, of course.)

(Thank you, guys.) I sighed in relief, smiling at my two friends. As awkward my friendship with Jowd felt at first, I came to realize he was like a big brother watching over me at times 

“Sissel, he’s doing better now!” I heard Jowd shout to her. She was buying another coconut for me and came back to my side as soon as she heard Jowd’s voice.

“Really? Oh, thank goodness! I’m so, so sorry, Yommy…. I didn’t know your fear of water was that big.” She hugged me and it was a relief to feel her warm body pressed against me.

“Why don’t you two go back to the house and take some rest? I can stay here with the girls, don’t worry.” He winked at us one more time. It seemed like Sissel took the hint as well because she cast a lustful glance towards me, then nodded.

“Of course! This will help us a lot. Thank you so much, Jowd!” She giggled, then winked at me. “It will be a good way to apologize for my mistake.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle back. “You’re already forgiven, my love. And thanks once more, Jowd.”

“You’re welcome.” The detective said while he held the black kitten in his arms and watched as Sissel and I packed our things and headed back home. Sissel’s arms wrapped around mine as we walked back to Jowd and Alma’s beach house.

Ok, so maybe a family vacation wasn’t so bad, after all.

[bronzeflower]

Poultry Man Saves the Day

Note that this is also on ao3

Chickens. Eggs. Yolks. Uh…what other words were chicken related? Wings? White? Like the white of an egg? Was that too much of a stretch? What puns could even be made using the word white?

He slaved over a book and quill, conjuring a list of words that could be peppered into a certain superhero’s speech. A certain...man in a chicken costume.

Eggcellent, Eggciting, Eggtravagant, Eggcruciating, Yolking, Eggsplosion, Chickening out, Eggilouge, Eggscalating…

Honestly, there weren’t that many puns there, which was pretty pitiful. What kind of chicken-themed superhero didn’t have chicken-themed puns? He wasn’t exactly pulling these puns out of his ass! There was actual thought put into them!

“Grian! Grian! Oh, where is that guy? Grian!” A voice floated around his base, and Grian snapped his book and quill shut, hiding it in his inventory to prevent anyone from reading it.

“Mumbo? Is that you?” Grian called out, sneaking out of The Coop and looking for Mumbo who was wandering around the base in a desperate attempt to find Grian.

“Oh! Grian! There you are, bud.” Mumbo placed a hand on Grian’s shoulder, practically using him a support as he leaned over slightly and panted in exhaustion. Egghaustion. There was another pun to add to the list.

But this wasn’t about puns.

“Mumbo, what’s wrong?” Grian questioned. Mumbo looked more exhausted than he would’ve been normally if he only just rushed over here. Something was up.

Mumbo took a moment to gather his breath before responded.

“It’s something I’ve, I’ve never seen before in Minecraft. I don’t think it was in an update-I would have heard about it if that was the case because this is, this is huge-I’ve never even seen anything like it, I don’t even know if I can describe it-none of us can even do anything about it-”

“Mumbo!” Grian interrupted. “What is it? And why didn’t you message me about such an emergency?”

“I needed time to recuperate from fighting, and I needed to make sure that you were actually able to arrive and be properly prepared. A bunch of the other hermits are currently fighting, but we need more firepower.”

“What are we up against? What is so terrible?”

“You’re gonna think I’m crazy for saying this, but I promise I’m being completely serious,” Mumbo paused for a moment. “We’re facing up against a giant worm.”

“We’re facing off against a worm?”

“I know it sounds insane, but it has a tough outer coating, and it’s digging into the ground and destroying so many things in its path. Not only is it causing a bunch of lag, but it’s also not taking any damage from our blows.”

“Nothing is working?” Grian asked desperately.

“We’ve tried swords, bows, crossbows, and we even tried other tools like axes and shovels! I hit it with a hoe! A hoe! An absolutely ludicrous diamond hoe!”

“What about other things? TNT? Sand? Redstone contraptions? Anvils? Fire? Drowning? I don’t know-fall damage? Potions?”

“We’ve done pretty much all of of that, even used both potions of weakness and regeneration to see if that would hurt it, but neither have worked,” Mumbo frantically rambled. “It drills through blocks like a Haste V pickaxe used nearby a beacon, and it absolutely refuses to go into the water. It’s pretty much impossible to get it high enough in the air to get it to take fall damage, and it doesn’t stand still long enough for redstone or anvils, and I swear it has an outer shell made out of obsidian! Nothing is working!”

“Then, what can I do if no one else can do anything?” Grian inquired.

“I, I don’t know. I don’t know. Uh, I guess there wasn’t any particular reason, but I figured the more heads we have to think about how we can beat this thing, the better chance we have of actually doing damage to it. My brain is dead, and most of the hermits are too busy fighting to think of anything.”

“I...I don’t know if I could come up with anything better than what you guys have been coming up with.”

“Grian, at this point, anything would be better than what we have been coming up because what we have been coming up with has been nothing.”

Mumbo looked hopeless. Grian was trying to calculate what would be most effective against a giant, invincible worm.

Grian began pacing.

“Alright, so tools, tools- sword, pickaxe, shovel, axe, hoe, bow, crossbow, trident, I don’t know, a flint and steel? Shears? Come on, brain, what would a worm be weak against? What hasn’t been tried by the other hermits? What hasn’t been considered yet? Snowballs? Blazes take damage against those. What about it, Mumbo, have you guys tried snowballs?”

There was a moment of silence as Mumbo went through all the strategies they had used against the worm.

“I don’t think we have. But, in case that doesn’t work, we should think of another strategy.”

Mumbo messaged the other hermits to tell them to try snowballs. Because if nothing else was working, they might as well.

Grian went to his array of Shulker boxes and chests to see if there was anything in there that could help.

The sounds of frantic opening and closing chests filled the base like the chests were the instruments and the base was the theater, creating a symphony of music that sounded less like a beautiful melody and more like that part of the concert where all the instruments were trying to tune. Except in this case, the melody never comes, and the audience is stuck with the out of tune strings of the violins.

Grian opened and closed yet another chest before freezing. He opened the chest again, staring at its contents before closing again. He opened it up again as if the items that resided inside were simply something that he dreamed up.

“What about fishing rods?”

“What?” Mumbo responded. “Say that again?”

“What about fishing rods? Have you guys used any fishing rods yet?” Grian repeated. “It’s a worm, isn’t it?”

“Oh my god. Oh my god!” Mumbo held his head in his hands. “How could’ve I been so stupid! Oh my god! How did we forget fishing rods!? Fucking fishing rods! Oh my god. I’ve...I’ve got to get a bunch of fishing rods.”

With that, Mumbo flew out of Grian’s base, as gracefully as ever, as Grian thought about ways to help.

There were many questions bouncing around Grian’s head. The most notable one was why nobody opted to notify him of this emergency until now. Did they not want him to help? Was it because he was the new guy? Or was it because they needed a person who wasn’t fighting to get resources? If they needed someone to get resources, why not inform him that they needed them?

Perhaps these questions were better left unanswered. Perhaps helping out wasn’t really a job for Grian.

He looked around the base, making sure no one was around when he went towards the center nearby the beacon and threw a trident at the ground.

He fell down and was face to face with the costume he thought he had retired. But it looked like it was time for the one and only Poultry Man to shine. Afterall, chickens ate worms for breakfast.

He donned the wings, then the leather pants dyed white and the yellow leather boots. Finally, he placed the chicken head over his own head and gathered up enough chicken eggs to fill up practically his entire inventory, saving room for rockets, food, and a fishing rod.

Poultry Man flew out of The Coop and gathered information about the worm was before flying over to the given coordinates as quickly as he could.

Why hide behind the mask? Was it the shame? The embarrassment? A vague attempt to grasp for glory but solely for a persona?

Poultry Man didn’t know. All he knew is that he had a job to do.

The damage was devastating. The lands were ravaged, and Poultry Man was hard pressed to find any area that was untouched.

He eventually got to the point where there was an insane amount of lag. And, there Poultry Man saw the worm.

It wasn’t quite in motion because of the lag. It was more like snapshots of a camera, clicking off randomly and without warning.

There were other hermits around, hooking fishing rods into the worm. It did seem to do some damage, but everyone knew that fishing rods did almost nothing.

So Poultry Man whipped out his eggs and began throwing them.

Even though chickens in Minecraft only ate seeds, real life chickens did eat worms, and to Grian’s surprise, the eggs were actually doing damage to the worm.

Poultry Man, however,  was filled with certainty. There was no doubt in his mind that this would work.

He just kept throwing eggs. Other hermits like Stress joined him in throwing eggs at their shared enemy.

Eventually, Poultry Man ran out of eggs.

He dropped down next to what might have been thousands of chickens, many of which were still baby chicks, but there were some that were adults.

Poultry Man watched in awe as the normally passive chickens began attacking the worm, successfully doing damage to it.

But he wasn’t dumbstruck for long, gathering more eggs from the adult chickens and shooting them out towards the worm.

Poultry Man could see why Mumbo went to Grian in person. There was hardly a moment of time when anyone could message anyone, especially given the amount of lag the worm caused. Not that he was helping much with that.

Poultry Man was probably making the lag worse, but that didn’t really matter too much because the chickens seemed to be doing some pretty substantial damage to the worm, much more than the eggs Poultry Man threw at it, and certainly more than the fishing rods people cast towards it.

Not to mention that the chickens were unaffected by the lag. Truly, they were the most powerful sources on the server.

At long last, the worm perished.

There was a silence. Only the clucking of chickens remained.

And then there was cheering.

“Thank god!” Iskall shouted. “I was so tired of fighting that thing.”

“I still can’t believe that we forgot about fishing rods.” Mumbo mentioned.

“I always knew chickens were great.” Stress said. “Thanks , Grian!”

“It’s Poultry Man!”

“Yeah, sure-Thanks for saving us, Poultry Man!”

“I’m just doing my duty as the hero of Hermitcraft,” Poultry Man emphasized his statement by throwing a few eggs obtained from the many chickens surrounding him.

After celebrating the victory, many of the hermits shouldered the responsibility of killing the chickens that were now lagging the server, who were infinitely easier to defeat than the giant worm.

Poultry Man returned to The Coop to relax. He removed his boots, then his pants, then his wings before finally removing the chicken head he wore. He returned the uniform to its rightful place.

He sat down and returned to thinking up potential chicken puns.

[thepetulantpen]

Pirates/Dancing

(Struggling against some writing block this week, but here’s some fjolly shenanigans for day 3 of @mollymauklivesfest !)

Molly has done a lot of inexplicably stupid things with the Mighty Nein, but this is probably the stupidest.

I mean, seriously, how does one accidentally steal a boat?

Nonetheless, he’s thankful that their stupidity has at least brought him closer to the ocean. It’s fascinating to look out across the horizon and just see water for miles and miles and miles. He’s seen oceans on maps and he obviously knows what they are, in theory, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the scale.

There’s just no end.

Hoping to get an even better view of the infinite water, he scrambles up the ropes on the mast, swinging and grabbing handholds with no regard for the risk of falling. Even when he stumbles, slipping out of footholds and forcing his arms to bear his weight, he easily recovers and it only makes the process more fun, more challenging.

He’s grateful that everyone is too busy dealing with the repercussions of their impulsivity to nag him about being more careful. Without other people fussing, he can just enjoy the thrill and the satisfaction of being able to confidently rely on his own strength and dexterity. It makes him feel alive, acutely aware of every movement he makes.

From this high up, he can see the whole deck full of the panicking Mighty Nein. Nott is drinking, Jester is casting Mending on scorch marks, and Caduceus is recovering from his brush with death while Beau and Yasha are trying and failing to help Fjord control the ship.

Oh, Fjord. He looks so stressed as he dashes from disaster to disaster that Molly feels bad for not trying to help, but he thinks he’d only make it worse with his lack of experience. He’s been in a boat... twice? And neither of them even had sails.

No, it’s best for Molly to just stay up on his perch and watch the sea. The waves are his favorite part, rising and falling in an irregular pattern like a song with a consistent beat but a chorus that wavers in volume and passion. They move as the ocean breathes, a slow heartbeat that never stutters, up and down and up and down. Some rise higher above others but they all fall just the same, crashing back to become one with a larger body.

It’s a beautiful thing to be a part of. Despite being such a small drop in a large ocean, Molly feels bigger here, like one important wave in the movement of something impossibly large.

Everything about the ocean seems impossible, the waves, the animals, the plants, the salt (he had to taste it for himself, even when Yasha told him not to, and discovered it really is as salty as people say it is. He’d always thought Gustav had been messing with him when he told him about the ocean- why is it salty anyway?) and the sea floor.

Walking in the shallows of the beach had been an experience, feeling it change from carpets of seashells to patches of slimy seaweed and being startled by sudden shifts in depth. It really is a whole other world down there, with its own mountains and valleys. They just can’t see it through the darkness and sand and salt.

The underwater world only shows them hints of its landscape, mere shadows of things just below the surface, like the jagged silhouette of a rocky reef just ahead of them—

Oh, shit.

“Captain!”

Molly swings to another rope, positioning himself over Fjord on the deck. At the shout, Fjord looks up, tired and resigned to hear about yet another disaster. He watches, dumbfounded, as Molly secures his right hand and foot in the rope and lets it hold his weight so he can lean over the deck and gesture to the reef they’re rapidly approaching.

“Rough waters ahead of us!”

Fjord turns around in a hurry and does something with the wheel and something with the masts- boat stuff, Molly can’t really keep track- then they’re doing a bit of a dramatic turn, as dramatic as these slow, giant boats get, and they’ve safely made it around their obstacle.

“Thanks!” Fjord turns to give Molly a thumbs up and then, inevitably, frowns, “What’re you doing up there?”

“Amusing myself!”

As if to demonstrate, Molly does a complicated thing that involves shifting his weight and wrapping his foot in the rope- acrobat stuff, Fjord can’t really keep track- then he’s hanging upside down by the one foot and waving his arms as if to say “look- no hands!”

In spite of all efforts to suppress it, Fjord smiles, shaking his head at Molly’s shenanigans. He hopes they live long enough for him to see Molly do even more ridiculous things.

“That’s mighty impressive, but it’ll be even more impressive if you could keep a lookout as you do it.”

Still upside down, Molly straightens and does a stiff salute.

“Aye, Captain!”

Fjord rubs a hand over his face. It’s going to be a long night.

...

Late night turns into early morning and Fjord just about collapses when he hears Molly shout “Land!”

Thank the gods.

It’s the smallest, shittiest island he’s ever seen but it’s a place to anchor the damn boat and a place to sleep, so it’s good enough. He honestly can’t believe he managed to sail the thing by himself all the way here, but he suspects it has something to do with pure luck and merciful waters.

They’ll have to sail back and get a cheap crew (anything is better than the Mighty Nein alone on a boat) but just the thought of sailing back makes him shudder so he opts instead to add it to the long, ever-growing list of bridges he’ll cross when he gets to them.

He stumbles off the boat in a daze, finds a spot next to the island’s single tree, and sleeps through the whole day, not caring if he’ll fuck up his sleep cycle.

When he wakes, it’s to the sensation of Molly poking him in the face and the sound of a fire crackling, which makes him sit up immediately, nearly knocking heads with Molly.

It’s just Caduceus, cooking over a campfire.

“Wake up, Cad is making crab for everybody.”

Given what he knows about Caduceus, particularly that he lived in a landlocked forest and that he doesn’t eat meat, Fjord is prepared to encounter some extremely questionable crab. Molly doesn’t seem to have the same reservations, immediately diving into the meat placed in front of him, ecstatic to taste something so new.

Fjord admires his wonder for the world, a welcome reminder to enjoy the little things he never realized he takes for granted. The crab isn’t that bad, all things considered, and Caduceus promises to heal them if it accidentally ends up poisoning them.

As the campfire dies, and everyone begins settling down in the sand to sleep, Molly and Fjord are the only ones left awake. There’s no watches, since they’re on the only land for miles, and everyone is trying to prepare themselves for the journey ahead.

Molly pokes at the fire absently, pondering something. Fjord shifts a little closer, sitting next to him on the sand.

“What sorts of things do people do at the beach?”

“Uh,” Fjord blinks once, unsure how to answer that, “Lots of things. Swimming, tanning, making sandcastles, collecting shells.”

“And at night?”

“Bonfires, parties, I guess. I was never much for the nightlife.”

Molly hums, then smiles, the mischievous one Fjord knows means trouble.

“Do they dance?”

“Dance?”

“On the beach. Do they dance?”

Molly stands and offers Fjord a hand. He takes it, having learned it’s best to go with the flow, especially when it comes to Molly.

“I suppose they might.”

They step a few paces away from the campfire and Molly takes position as the lead in a traditional dance, leaving Fjord to follow him.

Molly, for the record, does not know how to dance and is making it up as he goes along, which means Fjord has to become very skilled in improvisation or trip over his feet. He does the latter. Many, many times.

It’s fun anyway.

Their feet slide against the sand, cool in the night air. It’s a slightly shifting, dynamic dance floor and Molly is loving it, breaking off from Fjord to do his own thing and dance to the music in his head. He spins, shuffles, shakes- whatever he feels like, unaware of or indifferent to how it looks.

“C’mon Fjord, you’ve got to have some signature moves you can show me.”

Fjord shakes his head. “No, I... I’m not the dancing type, I’m afraid.”

“No need to be afraid, no one’s watching. And besides,” Molly slides over, leans in close, and whispers, “we’re pirates now. We can do whatever we want.”

“We’re not pirates.”

“Aye, Captain. Best to keep our cover. Arrr.”

Molly winks, grin bright and impossible to argue with. Fjord rolls his eyes and shakes his head, knowing he won’t sway Molly.

“What else would you like to do, on the beach?”

“Well,” Molly has gone back to dancing like nobody’s watching, twirling and experimenting with movement in the sand, “since we’re pirates, and totally above the law, we can do anything, hm?”

Fjord nods cautiously, unsure what Molly means to do, and Molly grins wildly back at him, teeth reflecting the moonlight. It’s then that Fjord realizes how late it is, looking up at the pitch black sky, full moon hanging over head, and stars twinkling out of the abyss. The rest of the group is asleep and so is the world.

Fjord should be sleeping too but he’s wide awake, either from his midday nap or sight of Molly stripping off his clothes and running off towards the ocean for a midnight dip.

Maybe it’s the dubious crab that makes Fjord follow him, taking off his armor and shoes.

Molly dips his toes in the water then yanks them back, looking up at Fjord.

“It’s cold!” He laughs, delighted, somehow, just from that, and steps into the water, watching the ripples around his feet.

“Yeah, it... it does that.”

Molly smiles at Fjord and then looks back out at the water with a sigh, wild smile softening into something more... wistful.

“It’s beautiful.”

Molly stares out at the water, wishing he could capture the sight of the moon’s wavering reflection on the dark water and carry it with him in his pocket. Fjord stares at Molly, the moonlight washing over his face and giving him an ethereal shine.

“Sure is.”

Molly snickers, wise to Fjord’s gaze without even looking. Fjord would say he’s glad for the darkness hiding his blush, but he’s sure Molly can sense that too. Not much gets past him, not when it comes to Fjord.

Molly looks back at Fjord, eyes traveling once over his body then landing on his face, eyes serious but mouth twisted in a smirk.

“I wish I could see what it’s like underneath. I’m sure it’s stunning.”

Fjord’s mind stalls for a second, eyes darting downward to Molly’s bare body and Fjord’s clothes, then Molly tilts his head toward the ocean and he realizes he’s been had.

“Ah, well,” Fjord bites his lip, feeling the sting of his growing tusks, and considers whether this is wise, “I think I could help with that.”

“Oh?” Molly bats his eyelashes, exaggeratedly flirtatious in normal circumstances that do not already include his naked body.

Anytime Fjord considers casting a spell, it’s a shot in the dark, based on impulse and hope that it’ll do what he intends it to. He has no idea what he’s doing most of the time, especially when he’s standing in the ocean with Molly in the middle of the night, after they’ve stolen a boat.

So, he’s started following the lead of other people who seem more put together than him and, believe it or not, even amnesiac, ex-cultist Molly has a better grip on this arcane thing than Fjord. He has reason to believe that Molly would absolutely take the risk and waste this spell. So he does.

“This’ll let us breathe underwater. Come on, I’ll swim us out.”

It’s not long until they’re deep enough to submerge themselves, the island has a rather sudden drop off, and it’s a fairly pleasant swim because, although he learned how to swim yesterday, Molly is a fast learner and does everything with confidence, not an ounce of rational fear in his body.

Fjord realizes he should’ve brought something to weigh them down but Molly doesn’t bother commiserating over lack of preparation, just dives under and finds a handhold on the rock holding up the island, a sort of underwater clifface. He anchors himself like he would in an acrobatic act, as if the force of the water is the same as gravity and wind resistance.

Molly is nothing like Fjord, who always feels like a fish out of water in this group. He makes every new environment his home, adapts as if he’s had all the experience in the world instead of a few short years worth.

“I don’t know how all this is so easy for you. We’re on an island in the middle of the ocean, on the run from the crownsguard, and you’re as relaxed as you always are, ready to take a swim as if nothin is wrong.”

Molly laughs and waves a hand through the water, observing and experimenting with movement underwater. “That’s rich, coming from you. You’re nearly as impulsive as me, the perfect partner in crime.”

“But that’s just impulse. You’re,” Fjord shifts, readjusting his awkward hold on the rock, “adaptable. Anything you start, you can finish.”

“And you’re the same. The only thing you’re missing is confidence.”

“Confidence or competence?”

“It’s the same isn’t it? If you act like you know what you’re doing then, for all intents and purposes, you know what you’re doing. Besides,” he smirks at Fjord and moves closer, face inches away and hand cupping Fjord’s cheek, “all this is coming from the man who sailed a boat all by himself yesterday. You were more competent than all the rest of us put together.”

“It was luck, really—“

Molly closes the gap and kisses him. Fjord shuts his eyes and feels the currents of the water gently shift around them, their hair flying in a slow motion halo around their heads. Underwater, it feels like being the center of the universe and completely hidden away all at once. The stars of their own show, with no audience in the stands.

Molly smiles against Fjord’s mouth. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“What, kiss underwater?” He pulls back enough to look Molly in the eyes, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “How long have you wanted that?”

“Well, when I saw the ocean I wanted to get in it, then when I was in it I wanted to go under it, then once I was under it I wanted to kiss you. So ever since the idea popped into my head, which was a few minutes ago.”

“Right. So, ten minutes is your idea of ‘always’?”

“Ten minutes is a long time, dear. That’s a whole Identification spell and you know how agonizing it is to wait for that.”

Fjord laughs and smiles, always happy to just be near Molly and talk, whether it’s ridiculous or serious (though, it’s usually both). In a quiet moment, they both turn to stare up at the surface of the water, seeing the moonlight meet them in weakened, interrupted shafts. Molly was right about it being beautiful, even from down here in what seems like a whole new world.

“Should we head back? The others will be wondering where we are.”

Molly nods slowly, still staring, as Fjord was, up at the moonlight.

“I suppose I can check ‘midnight skinny dip’ off my bucket list,” he holds onto Fjord as they swim back to the surface, and mutters, under his breath, “That one goes out to you, Moonweaver.”

[nancywheelxr]

Could I prompt you with Diego needing stitched up/some kind of shot or needle related treatment and being terrified enough that Luther, Klaus, and Five all team up to try to get him through it? (especially if Luther's surprisingly the most sympathetic of all of them during all of it)

Hey, there! Hope you like it, anon!

They should have gone to California with the girls.

Diego could be laying in the warm sand right now, the calming sound of the ocean lulling him to sleep in a golden beach, a cold drink in his hand.

That could have been his day.

But no, they just had to stop in Chicago first. And then, when they heard of it on the news, they just had to meddle in the bank robbery.

And of course, of course, somehow all of that had lead to Diego being stabbed in the stomach. To be fair, it’s just a flesh wound, more of a nuisance than anything, but still. It hurts like a bitch and it’s soaking his uniform with blood, dripping all down his legs as they make their way back to their hotel room.

Luther and Five immediately disappear inside their room, bickering about bathroom privileges, and Diego has no doubt Five is going to cheat his way into showering first.

In his own room, Diego sits carefully at the edge of his bed, hiding a wince when pain shoots through his body and his vision blurs for a second. The bed across his creaks as Klaus throws himself on the mattress, sighing theatrically.

“Don’t be silly,” Klaus tells the empty air near his bed while Diego catches his breath, so he figures Ben is rooming with them for the night too. “Of course not, I think we would have noticed something like that.”

Whatever nonsense they’re arguing doesn’t matter, because Diego has bigger problems to deal with like the fact his blood is beginning to stain the sheets and the carpet, and that’s going to be hard to explain to the cleaning lady.

“Hey, Diego,” Klaus calls, laughing, “you wanna hear this. Ben thinks you got stabbed.”

Well shit. So death turned Ben into a fucking snitch, huh.

“That’s ridiculous, right?” He pauses when Diego says nothing, and shit, now Klaus is sitting up, eyes going wide as he takes in the bloody sheets and Diego knows he’s probably looking like shit too. “Oh my god, is that blood? Did you really get stabbed? Diego!”

“I may have gotten slightly stabbed,” Diego grits out, pressing a hand to his stomach and grimacing when it comes out red. “But tell Ben snitches get stitches.”

Klaus jumps to his feet, frowning worriedly as Diego peels his shirt up, peering at the gash on his abdomen. Look, he’ll be the first to admit it does look bad, and sure, it might hurt like hell, and sure, he’s a bit dizzy from blood loss by now, but it definitely doesn’t warrant the way Klaus gasps horrified and begins banging on the wall, calling Five and Luther from the next room.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Diego demands, trying to cross his arms but giving up when it jostles his injury. “Stop it, they’re gonna–”

The telltale blue light flashes as Five jumps in the middle of the room without his jacket and his tie askew. “What? What’s the problem now?”

Not a second later, Luther is stumbling through the door, looking around for a threat. “What’s going on?”

Before he could say anything, Klaus announces, “Diego got stabbed!”

“Lightly stabbed,” Diego feels the need to point out, awfully defensive for someone bleeding out in a hotel bed.

“This looks bad,” Luther makes a face, flinching, “we should take him to a hospital, come on.”

“And do you want to be the one telling the staff that sure he was at that bank robbery, but he’s not one of the half dozen robbers with stab wounds?” Five snaps, actually coming closer to examine the wound. He pokes around the cut and Diego bites his lip not to give away the pain. “It’s just a flesh wound, but it needs stitches, he’s lost enough blood as it is.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Diego shoots back, pulling his shirt down and angrily batting the hand away. “I’ll be fine with a bandage, thanks.”

“Do we even have a first aid kit?” Klaus asks, ignoring Diego’s very valid protests and immediately hurrying out of the room once Luther tells him that yes, there’s one in the car. It’s a little heartwarming, up until the point where Diego remembers this is a complete overreaction.

You know, this would never have happened if they all got separated rooms like Diego wanted. In fact, a whole lot of things would not have happened if only they had listened to Diego because Diego is clearly the more sensible one out of them all, but god forbid Luther ever listened to him.

They might have taken a wrong road somewhere and missed the highway to California, but then again, that’s on them for leaving Klaus with the map.

“This is ridiculous,” Diego tells them, shrinking back in the bed when Klaus comes back with the kit and Five starts rummaging through it in search of thread and needle. “No one is getting anywhere near me with that,” he protests, pointing at the needle in Five’s hand, and if his voice rises in the end, embarrassingly high, they don’t mention it.

“No offense,” Klaus says, approaching cautiously, “but that would’ve worked better if you weren’t still bleeding in our carpet.”

Luther follows him, hands raised in front of his chest, “look, it’s this or facing the cops at the hospital, but we can’t let you bleed out with a gaping cut in your gut.” And that’s so unfair because they know Diego is still not in good terms with the police, and Five probably has fingerprints in half a dozen unsolved cold cases, so that’s not a choice, not really. When Luther and Klaus haul him up, Diego is forced to grit his teeth and let them. “Come on, up you go. Let’s get him in the bathtub.”

“Jesus Christ,” Klaus mutters, stepping back once they laid Diego down, and okay, it does look a lot worse in the brighter light of the bathroom, and the dizziness is getting a lot worse, Diego has to admit. Maybe a few stitches would be a good idea, he likes his guts where they are inside his body, thank you very much.

“Well, it looks like I’ll have to be the one doing this,” Five grimaces, sounding clinical and resigned, antiseptic already poised, and rolls his eyes when Luther makes a helpless gesture and Klaus takes yet another step back. “Useless,” he mutters, setting the kit down by the bathtub.

“Do you know how to stitch wounds?” Diego asks, talking through the sting of the antiseptic as he pulls his shirt up while Five cleans the cut.

“What part of hitman do you people don’t understand? Would you stay still?”

Luther shuffles forward, gloves surprisingly gone, and holds Diego down by the shoulders, ignoring the furious glare sent his way.

“Thank you,” Five says, pausing before turning back to Diego. “Now, I know you have a phobia, but–”

The rest of his sentence is lost when Diego catches sight of the needle, gleaming silver in the artificial light, and the panic that rises inside his ribcage is suddenly overwhelming. His mind is already fuzzy and Diego struggles against Luther’s hold, trashing inside the bathtub. “No, fuck this, I changed my mind– let me go, asshole!”

“Diego, hey, Diego– Klaus, get his legs,” he hears Luther order, but it sounds far away, echoing oddly in the tiled bathroom. “Diego, look at me. Hey, hey, you lost a lot of blood and you’re aggravating your injury. You need stitches. Do you understand?” He waits until Diego reluctantly nods. “I know this sucks, and it’s going to hurt, but it’s the only way, okay?”

“Screw you,” Diego spits out, glaring at them all. “But fine.”

Five starts without warning and it’s a good thing both Luther and Klaus are holding Diego down, because he flinches with his whole body, hands grasping uselessly at the porcelain sides of the bathtub.

His breathing speeds up and his chest is beginning to feel like a sinkhole, caving in and crushing his lungs, and his heart is drumming wildly, deafeningly loud in the silence, and Jesus, it hurts like a motherfucking–

“So, I heard it’s raining in California,” says Luther, awkward as only he and Vanya ever manage to be.

“What?” Klaus frowns, huffing breathless in his effort to keep Diego still.

“Yeah. Allison called last night. Big storm there, she says. So no beaches, it seems.”

Another minute of silence goes by before Luther tries again.

“I’ve never been to California.”

“Good for you big guy. I mean,” Klaus quickly amends, and Diego didn’t miss the meaningful glare Luther pinned him. “Me neither! Have you ever been to the West Coast, Diego?”

Five nearly snorts at that, and Diego casts a look that he hopes carries exactly what he thinks of this shitty small talk, but he still answers. “No. Should have gone with them though.”

“I don’t know,” Luther muses, “I don’t think the weather is very good for your black clothes.”

“Are you seriously gonna insult me right now– holy shit, what are you doing? Stabbing me again?”

“If you would stop squirming,” Five grumbles, but his hands are gentler when he resumes sewing, “maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much.”

“You’re doing good, buddy,” Luther pats his shoulder like Diego is some sort of unruly toddler, “we’re almost done.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Diego says with feeling.

“Don’t be rude,” Klaus chides, poking his leg, “we’re being supportive. Keeping your mind off the–”

“I heard Maine is great this time of the year,” Luther talks loudly, so stupidly earnest that Diego has to snort.

“Ben says Florida would fit us better.”

“I would never willingly set foot with either of you in Florida,” Diego tells him honestly because he doesn’t want to imagine the kind of chaos that would ensue.

A sting pierces his stomach, and Five announces, “I’m done, you can look now.”

Diego looks.

The wound is sewed up neatly across his abdomen, the blood cleaned off even if his clothes are a lost cause. It’s a better job than half the times Diego had to go to the ER and he didn’t even faint this time.

“Thanks,” Diego mutters, refusing to look at either of them, and lets his head loll back at the edge of the tub.

Klaus turns away, busying himself at the sink, turning the faucet all the way on as he washes his hands, and Five presses a couple of pills on Diego’s hands. “For the pain,” he says quietly.

Diego quickly swallows them dry.

“This is way more exciting than California,” Luther tries for cheerful, helping him up. “I bet Allison and Vanya are just watching TV and eating ice cream.”

“Yeah, really dodged a bullet there,” Diego snorts, sounding a lot less sarcastic than he had intended, but he blames it on the tiredness and the pain. The mattress feels like heaven after the bathtub.

“We can go get ice cream,” Klaus volunteers as if his shirt isn’t stained with blood too. “Do you want strawberry or chocolate chips? Nevermind, stupid question, cookie dough is the superior flavor.”

“Coffee for me,” Five calls, claiming Klaus bed for himself.

Luther drags a chair between the beds, “strawberry for me.”

“You are all wrong, but we’ll be right back,” Klaus says haughtily, pointing a stern finger towards Diego. “And no dying until I’m back.”

The door closes behind him and the sounds of his bickering with who they hope is Ben drifts into nothing. Diego closes his eyes, taking a deep breath.

Today has certainly been a busy day, and it certainly could have gone better, but at the very least they might make it to California by the end of the week after all and the promise of ice cream is enough to make him feel better about making a fool of himself a few moments ago.

It’s just his brothers, he supposes. They’ve all seen each other in worse shapes before. All in all, he might even be grateful.

[seddm]

So Did Starco Lie from Curse of The Blood Moon- Here to Help. Because it really seemed like Marco was genuinely happy for Star and Tom after it was broken. He wasn’t mopey or desperate to get with somebody .

Pt2 or was it locked under vigorous amounts of denial and repression/ the placebo affect. The more I think about it the more it infuriates me that Tomstar really stopped in LHF, every ep with them as a point was directed at getting Tom to realize maybe this isn’t good: Junkin Janna- Tom’s only life is being Stars Bf and it’s clearly shown to be bad, A boy and his 700- Tom realizes he needs to let things be free and do what he wants, Doop Doop- Tom finally understands, STH- He does what he wantsP3 I take extremely moderate solace knowing the only real shippy episode between the two was in LHF as in swim suit we got that first hint he wasn’t gonna be apart of beach day, and then from the P2 the other eps involving their relationship. So I’d say with the bad scenario the show put itself in back in s3 needing Tom to develop without saying it’s because star cheated on him this was the best scenario but it’s kinda crummy we don’t get much Starco PDA by comparison. I just want a book man.P4 (last one I promise.) The more I think about it the more I understand the only ep with Tomstar that showed them in good light was coronation. No toxic habits to insults, only an agreement to go on a trip and move on. Thank God they spared us a kiss. As we all know among the main cast they seem to be saved for exclusively developmental and powerful moments. So honestly that’s the only ep Of s4 I can give Tomstar shippers about them being in good standing. All other ones tho show some flaw.

Yeah, I agree with what you said. At this point, given Star’s lines in The Monster and the Queen and Marco’s comments about the curse in Here to Help, I think they were mostly lying, but to themselves. The Severing Stone provided them with an excuse to have, once more, a strong disconnection between Heart and Mind, which otherwise started getting closer and closer up to that episode. After Curse Marco still feels an incredibly intense bond for Star, the one he talked about in Here to Help, but consciously speaking he manages to ignore it, to exclusively focus on the non-romance parts of it, and Star does more or less the same, to the point of being able to wistfully comment on how missing someone you love can hurt, while still not questioning her relationship with Tom in the slightest, because she once more managed to completely separate “LOVE” and “Romance, dating, smoochy stuff”.

The show plays around a loooot with the idea of a disconnection between Heart and Mind, sometimes without fully making it clear when feelings end and denial begins, but that’s consistent to the rules of the game, the ones Sleepover set when shipping started actually being a thing in the show. So sometimes it’s hard to make perfect analysis of what happened, to draw clear lines in the sand, because they were never supposed to be clear, probably not even from the writers’ point of view, and certainly not from the characters’ ones. That’s why Star could understand almost immediately what she really wanted AND needed as soon as Tom’s break up speech gave her the right push, that’s why Marco could confess like that to Star as soon as Tom “forced” him to confront the truths he always knew, deep down.

We’re not supposed to be perfectly able to go “Star started feeling physically attracted to Marco again in this episode; Marco stopped consciously wanting to kiss Star from here to here”, because that’s not the point of their relationship, which is supposed to be a linear journey about two people who immediately bonded in a special way as soon as they met, since they both brought something they were sorely missing in the other’s life (support and understanding for Star, excitement and a way to get out from his comfort zone for Marco), and whose feelings became more and more intense with time. Obviously there are some major checkpoints and changes that can easily been pinpointed, since it’s a TV show and not real life, but otherwise there has always been something special in the background, growing over time, sometimes in a more overt way, sometimes remaining “hidden” until the next big development.

And I want a canon book / comic set after the finale with something Starco as well. So, so much... I’d be content with, like, a two pages spread from a scrapbook with some Starco selfies, something like that.

[ineffablegame]

Also published on my Ao3.

Sack

On the day Sodom and Gomorrah are sacked, Aziraphale is doing his good deeds in the nearby village of Zoar.  He has no notion of the imminent fire and brimstone – Above had been rather cagey since the hullabaloo with the flaming sword – until he spots Sandalphon and Michael at the local well, changing cups of water into wine and generally looking very pleased with themselves.

Aziraphale’s first instinct is to slink away, and that impulse catches him by surprise.  These are his colleagues, his—his friends, surely.  His fellow angels.  He should be welcoming them to Zoar with a warm embrace, should offer them a tour around the grand menagerie that is God’s creation.  He is something of an expert, after all.

Instead, Aziraphale hesitates.  Just last night, he and Crowley shared date palm cocktails in a tavern in Gomorrah. He can still remember the zing of lemongrass on his tongue.  If he gets caught up with Michael and Sandalphon, surely there will be questions, questions he will be obligated to answer honestly—

“Ho, there!”  Michael’s sonorous voice is a rumble in the earth, cascading aftershocks of dread.  “Aziraphale!  How goes it, old friend?”

Inwardly cringing, Aziraphale plasters on a smile and walks across the village square, suddenly emptied of all passers-by.  He presses his hands together, keenly aware of the creases of dirt in his palms, the dark crescents beneath his fingernails.  “Michael.  Sandalphon. So good to see you.”

The Prince of the Heavenly Host raises her cup.  “Have a drink with us.”

“Oh,” says Aziraphale, who cannot remember the last time he turned down a cup of wine – though, admittedly, his drinking company has been decidedly less angelic than this.  “I really can’t, I’ve got, ah, very important—”

He pauses as a clay cup appears in his hand, full to the brim with blood-dark wine.  “Oh. How kind.  Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it,” Michael says with a broad grin.  “Sandalphon and I are just getting ready to sort out Sodom and Gomorrah.  Aren’t we, soldier?”

She turns to Sandalphon, who regards her with the blank, open-mouthed expression Aziraphale has secretly grown to detest in the archangel.  In his experience, Sandalphon has always oscillated between supercilious condescension and creepy vacancy.

Also, he has the most irritating tendency to smack his lips when he eats.

“Indeed, yes,” Sandalphon says after several moments, smacking his lips. Aziraphale feels his smile grow brittle. “Herself has decreed that, as punishment for their sins, the cities are to perish in fire and brimstone.”

A cold, vast gulf opens behind Aziraphale’s ribs.  “What?”

“Oh, yes,” says Michael gleefully.  She tosses back the last gulp of her wine and vanishes the clay cup with a flick of her wrist.  “A holy smiting of the greatest order.  I tell you, I’ve been waiting for something like this.  When the Almighty sent the flood, last time, I thought, why not let us have a little fun?  It would be just like the Rebellion.”  A wistful sigh.  “At least we’ll have a role this time.  Although I can’t say I expect the humans will be much sport.”

“I—I see,” Aziraphale says, voice small.  He stares at the cup in his hand, takes a cautious sip.  The taste of bile and bloodshed fills his mouth.  “And… what, pray tell, is their great sin?  Why are they being punished?”

Michael gives him a stern look.  “That is not for us to question, Aziraphale.”

“The Almighty has decreed it,” Sandalphon adds.  He takes a swig of wine and smacks his lips.  “It must be done.”

“Yes—yes,” Aziraphale mumbles.  “Of course. How silly of me.”

“If it’s the righteous humans you’re worried about,” Michael says, “fear not. There aren’t any.  We looked.”

“You did?”

“Oh, yes,” Michael says, with the smile of one sharing an inside joke.  “We were very thorough.  Weren’t we, Sandalphon?”

Sandalphon looks as if he hasn’t registered the question for several seconds. Then he nods.  “We supped with Abraham’s get.  Lot.”

“Oh, yes,” says Michael.  “Thank the Almighty for Lot.  And his two virgin daughters.”

Aziraphale boggles at them.  Surely they haven’t.  “What?”

“All the men of Sodom came to the door, keen to know us.”  Michael wrinkles her nose and shudders.  “Disgusting humans.  Lot offered them his daughters instead.”

“Very hospitable,” Sandalphon smacks.

“How kind,” Aziraphale says, the disgust for what he is hearing a distant echo beside the horror clamoring for dominance of his mind.  Where is Crowley?  He was in Gomorrah last night.  Has he stayed there?  Has he moved to Sodom?  Or has he left the plains entirely?  Please, let him have left.  “Well, it sounds like… like you’ve got everything under control, I suppose.”  He sets the cup down on the lip of the well with a trembling hand.  A sense of obligation halts him – the sense that you should offer to do something you really, really don’t want to do.  “Unless you need…?”

Michael’s eyes widen.  She laughs. “What, you?  Help us?  No, we have it sorted.  Besides, smiting cities isn’t exactly in your job description, is it?  A Principality like you?”

“Some Principality,” Sandalphon deadpans.

Aziraphale bristles, stung, but the terror clawing at his insides bids him hold his tongue.  “Yes. Right.  Jolly good.”  He turns, already hurrying out of the square.  “Happy, er, smiting.”

“Peace be with you!” Michael calls back, laughing, and Aziraphale scarcely has the frame of mind to register the irony of those words before he is sprinting down the street, miracling himself invisible as his wings unfurl in a blue-white nimbus of haste.

The sun has set by the time he reaches Gomorrah, but all is bright across the plains.  By some stroke of luck, Michael and Sandalphon have started their grim work with Sodom.  The blaze of holy fire lights the night, turning the sky a putrid orange and streaking white across the sands.  Aziraphale feels the flames warm his feathers as he lands on the outskirts of Gomorrah, tripping into a run as his wings vanish.  He runs to the tavern, the hammering of his heart deafening him to the screams.

He finds Crowley at the table where he left him, as placid and solidly drunk as he was the night before.  It’s as if time has stilled here, a shard preserved for Aziraphale to slip into his pocket and carry away.  He races to the demon’s side, hands scrabbling at his shoulder.  “Crowley!  Get up, we have to go now!”

Crowley blinks blearily, sunglasses askew.  “Wassit?  Back for another round, angel?”

“Don’t be stupid!” Aziraphale shouts.  “The city is doomed!  We must leave!”

It is only then that Crowley seems to register the screams building around them. “Shit.”  He wobbles to his feet and sways on the spot.  “Thought things were getting loud.  Lemme sober up.”

“No time!”

Aziraphale can feel the fires growing brighter, closer, the cacophony of screams surging as the stench of brimstone and scorched flesh swarms his senses. He drags Crowley into his arms, spreads his wings, and hurtles into the air like a comet.  Crowley gives a strangled screech and throws his arms around Aziraphale’s neck.  The city scythes apart beneath them as they rise into the sky.

Later, on a hillside overlooking the carnage of Sodom, they watch as Lot’s family flees.  The tiny forms streak across the sand, shadows stretching like dark paths before them. At the last, Lot’s wife pauses, chest heaving.  She turns.

“She shouldn’t have done that.”  Crowley’s voice is flat, long since purged of the slur.

Aziraphale shrugs, shoulders stiff.  He hasn’t exerted himself like that in decades.  “She couldn’t have known the rules, surely.”  He studies the pillar of salt that was once a woman.  “It is a terrible pity.”

For a long moment, Crowley says nothing.  Then, in words like the sparks off a struck flint, he snarls, “I wasn’t talking about her.”  He stands, rounding on Aziraphale, hands balled into shaking fists at his sides.  “A ‘terrible pity?’  Really, angel?  Thousands of humans incinerated in the blink of an eye, and you think it’s a terrible pity?”

“I.”  Aziraphale opens and closes his mouth.  He’d expected grumbling, surly thanks disguised as griping.  He didn’t think to expect this.  “Crowley, I—”

“I thought the rainbow was meant to be a promise!”  Crowley is pacing back and forth, all frantic, spring-coiled fury. “What’s the point of promising not to drown the world if you’re just going to burn it instead?”

“I—I don’t know,” Aziraphale flounders.  “I don’t know.”

“Don’t you care enough to ask?  Doesn’t any of your lot care?”

Aziraphale climbs to his feet.  “Now, listen here, Crowley.  It’s not—it’s not that I don’t care.  I just can’t ask.  I can’t question the Almighty’s choices.”

“Why?”

“Because it isn’t done!”

The moment Aziraphale utters the words, he is aware of the lack of them – the emptiness, the impotence.  He drops his gaze to the dirt.  The taste of bile and bloodshed clings in his mouth.

“Crowley,” he begins.

Crowley raises a hand to silence him.  “Don’t bother.  You know what, angel?  Sometimes I think I had the right of it when I Fell.  I never have a choice, not really, but at least I can ask why.”

He’s gone before Aziraphale can respond, wings unfurled and carrying him past the light of the flames, into the gathering dark.  Aziraphale watches him vanish.  A small part of him wants to follow, wants to apologize for the Almighty’s decision, and—no.  It would be wrong to apologize for God’s work because God never errs.  Best not to question Her choices.  The Rebellion was a very long time ago, but it is fresh in his memory still.

Aziraphale stands alone on the hillside, watching Sodom and Gomorrah burn down to ashes. Stock still between the two, a pillar of salt shivers under a stiff wind – then scatters, obliterated and cast into the sands.

[erintoknow]

capable

thank you @frozenabattoir for letting me borrow cerise for a little while

fallen hero: rebirth fanfic, spoiler details, ~2.2k words

[capable]

------

it’s like a wave, bringing jellyfish, they don’t mean to sting, that’s just how they are here in the sea and the salt little poisoned kisses lashing up your arms, chest, face as the foam breaks over you the receding tide pulling you further the sand slipping away –

You shut your eyes tight, suppressing a shudder. You’re not anywhere near the ocean. Try to remember. Where are you? What had you been doing? You are downtown at the corner of 6th and 8th street. It’s a midnight grocery run because you keep forgetting bodies need bothersome things like ‘nutrients.’ You curl your song around your mind tighter as the ebb of the ocean washes against your ankles. You’ve half a mind to take a taxi to the store to pick up the Rat King and suit up. You could use their support to prop you up.

But there’s no guarantee you’ll be to get back here in time and find the source of the water. And you need to. That isn’t a choice, not for you. You’re back there again, trudging up the steps, an acrid smell settling in to your lungs, pushing past Charge and Steel as you swallow down your own bile. What the hell is causing these waves? You shift the handles of the bag to hang from your wrist, dig the nails from your freed hand into your arm.

This is here.

This is now.

It’s just a memory.

It can’t hurt you.

God – You hope that’s true.

You take a deep breath as the wave hits again. You’re ready for it this time. It’s not any easier, but you can feel the current now, move your legs, follow the feeling to the headwater, steal glimpses of what the origin point can see. A cute trick, something you couldn’t have done seven years ago. Maybe things would have been different if you– You dig your nails into your arm again. Don’t get lost in the abyss of hypotheticals.

As you rush a crosswalk you check on the people around you. A few people wince or hold their head. Frowns ebb and flow with the ocean’s beat against the shore. You don’t know what you’re going to find –don’t want to think about it– but there’s still time.

You find it– her in the gullet of an alleyway running between a movie theatre and a night club. She’s curled up with her legs against her chest, backed into the corner made where the dumpster rests against the night club wall. The dull thumping bass more felt then heard, traveling through the ground in a pattern you can’t quite make out. Little waves pulling at the shore.

“Oh… shit, Cerise?” You mind supplies the name to you without bothering to explain were she got it from.

Even so, it seems to work, the woman raises her head in surprise. “Ariadne?” She answers, and then a look of surprise to match your own washes over her face.

“Are you okay?” You ask. An obviously absurd question.

“I’m fine.” She answers. An obviously absurd response.

You grit your teeth, force yourself to step closer even as the water threatens to pull you over. Julia Ortega wouldn’t accept that response from you. You’re not going to accept it from her. “You’ve got a strange definition of okay.”

“I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Too bad.” You sit down next to her. “I’m awful like that.”

Cerise doesn’t have a response to that, doesn’t move to acknowledge your presence.  But she doesn’t move away either, so you’ll take it. Just sit there with her, and let the water seep into your socks, pull at your clothes. You lean back and rest your hands on the dry cement ground, slide your fingers to avoid the wad of gum that’s been ground into the stone.

“Aren’t you supposed to ask what’s wrong?”

“Would you tell me if I did?”

“No.”

You think about reaching for her. Decide against it. It’s about all you can do to stay here in the shallows, keep yourself steeled against the undertow, shoes pressed against the ground. Jellyfish float between the two of you, caught in the current. You’re just beginning to recognize the beat thrumming through the night club wall when it shifts and changes and you’ve lost the pattern again. You hiss air through your teeth, irritated.

“What?” She asks.

“The song changed.”

“That’s what you’re focused on right now?”

You make a face. “I–I like music.”

“Why are you even here?” She still won’t look at you. It’s spooky. Is this what it’s like when Julia had to deal with you? Maybe you should think about getting her a thank-you card. …Or maybe it’s seven years too late for that now. 

“Do- do you want me to leave?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want.”

You dig your hands into the sand, feeling the salt water curve around your fingers. “Bullshit.”

She shifts position. Well. At least that got some kind of response from her, even if it was negative. “How can you honestly say that, after everything that happened?” Her fist pounds into her leg. “There’s no happy ending here. We’re going to die. We don’t have a choice. They’re going to find us and take us back and–” She chokes and you can feel the water wash up over your head.

You flinch, tap you feet against the still dry-cement, try to ground yourself. “I mean, I don’t think you’re wrong exactly. This whole dream was… kind of doomed from the start, wasn’t it? But–” You chew the inside of your cheek, thinking. “That doesn’t mean we don’t, um… i mean– what we want still matters, you know? Maybe the choices we made were… wrong, or stupid. But we still– we still made that jump, yeah?”

“Did we though? Was it really us jumping? Nothing’s been right since that apartment… I can still feel her in here.”

“Yeah.” You swallow, the taste of salt coats your tongue. “I know.”

“Shit, I can still–” Cerise shakes her head. She doesn’t need to finish her sentence. For a brief moment, you can hear it too, the screams in the next room, your own–no Cerise’s as the surgeons get to work.

You feel sick, red water bubbling up and out your mouth. You have to swallow it down, dig your fingers into the sand again. “I don’t know know how to let go of a ghost like that.” You admit.

“She’s still here with me, always. In the back of my mind.” You watch how the jellyfish move through her, carried by the current, rocking back forth from the bass rumbling the cold dry cement under your hands.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t see anyone else here, Cerise, just you.”

“Well,” There’s a pained smile on Cerise face as she stares at the far wall. “They’ve replaced so much, I don’t think that’s true either. There’s not much of ‘me’ left, Ariadne.”

You have to think about that one. “Are you…” You pause to catch your breath, swallow down salt water. “Are you familiar with the ship of Theseus?”

“Who?”

“It’s… an old thought experiment. Theseus is a greek sailor with a wooden sailboat. Every time he comes into port, he replaces one of the boards in his boat. But it’s still Theseus’s boat afterwards, right?”

“I guess.”

“After enough trips, Theseus replaces every part of the boat. Nothing remains from the original ship. So… is it still Theseus’s boat?”

“You haven’t replaced Theseus yet though.”

You try to smile as the water breaks over the two of you. “That’s true. It’s Theseus’s boat so… the parts don’t really matter, don’t you think? You’re still you. No matter what they do to you, you’ll always be you.”

She rolls her eyes, “Like you really believe any of that.”

“I–” You choke, spit out red water. “I want to though. I want to believe it – so badly.”

“That’s cruel, telling someone else lies just because you think they’re pretty ones.” She shoots you a look, only for the briefest of moments but you feel sick to your stomach again. “You’re being just as bad as them.”

You flinch, “I– I think…”  You swallow the water in your throat, try to force your stomach to settle down again. “I think the fact that they were so mad about what we did is all the proof we should need.”

“They’ve got more people and money than we could ever hope for.”

“They wouldn’t be so cruel if they weren’t afraid of us. Afraid of what we could do– could be.”

“They are cruel because they can be. Because of what we can’t do.”

“We can fight back.”

“Even if you… blew up a building, they’re all over the county. They’ll just build new ones.

“So we change the country, give them no where to hide. Make them go on the run.”

Cerise finally turns to look at you, her expression cold as she looks at you through the film of a jellyfish’s bell. “What, you want to run for president? Fat fucking chance.” You can feel the water rock against your chest, soaking into your clothes. Rap your hands on the cement again. Still dry.

“No.” Your voice is quiet. “We’ll do what they always had us do. Work from the shadows, pull favors, manipulate information. Set the stage, let them change the country for us.” The more you talk the more you like the sound of what you’re saying. It’s a way out, a rope in the water.

“I don’t want to kill any more people.”

“Then don’t.

“That’s not how it works.”

“Yes it is,” you insist, stubbornly. “It’s your show. Set the stage, cast the actors, pick out the band.”

“You can’t control everything!”

“No, you’re right, we can’t.” You close your eyes, lean back against the dumpster.

“Then what’s the point?”

“I think…” You move your head and look at her again, wave your hand to push those damn jellyfish aside. The tentacles lash your fingers and you flinch at the touch. “Not being able to control everything is not the same thing as not being able to control anything.” You trace patterns on your leg, frustrated. Can’t tell if anything you’re saying is getting through to her.

You can feel the water ting red around you. What are you doing here? You can’t help her, you can barely hold yourself together.

Breath Ariadne, focus.  “I mean…” your voice is low, “I think you already get it, if you thought about it.”

Cerise doesn’t respond to that, so you keep talking. “We can’t– we can’t help how we were…” you stumble over the word, “born, but– but that didn’t stop us from changing how we lived.” You scratch your jaw, painfully aware of what’s under the concealer.

The water pulls at Cerise’s hair, blonde strands drifting this way, then that way. “We shouldn’t even exist Ariadne. We’re not people. We’re mistakes.” She raises a hand to keep the hair out of her face. “Left behind or forgotten about or–”

“So fucking what?” You grab her wrist before she can pull it way, hold fast. “Who cares what they wanted for us? They’re fucking evil bastards. Just because they get to make the rules doesn’t mean they’re suddenly the good guys. It just means the rules are evil too.”

“Why do you even care what I think? You don’t know me.”

A memory briefly flits across your mind and you have to blink your eyes to clear out the sea water. “Does it help, if I make it selfish? I just…” You use your free hand to shove another jellyfish away. “I just want to be, what I’d want someone to be for me.”

“…that is pretty selfish.” She pulls her hand out of your grip.

“I’m sorry, but… I never pretended to be anything else.”

“I’m not your…” Cerise twists in a hand in the air, searching for the right word. The tentacles of a jellyfish wrap around her fingers. “–your mirror or something. If you’ve got something to say to yourself, you can leave me out of it.”

“It’s not like that, It’s not like this is easy for me,” you say, feeling weak. “It just… seemed like you needed to hear it too.”

“I’m…” Cerise stands up, water wicking off her clothes in sheets. “I’m going home now.”

“You can do this, you know.” You call up to her. “You can get through this.”

“You can’t know that.”

“It’s not about knowing… It’s– it’s about saying it.” You stand up too, shove a jellyfish out of your lap. Ignore the welts it raises on your arm. “Be safe getting home.”

Cerise glances back at you. “You too.”

You don’t remember walking home when you wake up in the morning. The sun’s already high in the sky and you are soaked through in sweat. Fallen asleep in your clothes again? The AC unit is silent, did it break over night? What a piece of garbage. You’re a super villain now, you’re not hurting for money. Maybe you should start investing in your own life.

What exactly happened last night? Almost like a dream but… there’s no telepathy in dreams. The more you try to think about it the more it’s fizzing away like the seafoam after scooping it off the sand.

For some reason, you’re having the strongest compulsion to do something nice for Ortega.

[asterinjapan]

Back in time

One last good evening from Fukuoka before I leave Kyushu!

Wow, time is really flying, I’m already halfway through my trip… but, that’s still two full more weeks to go, so plenty of things to look forward to!

First things first, typhoon aftermath. I’m very fortunate to be able to report that the typhoon was more or less a non-event on Kyushu. The only thing we really noticed here was a strong wind picking up, and apparently waves were high, because a typhoon that big messes up the atmosphere over quite the area. Still, looking at the news from Tokyo and surroundings, Kyushu got out of it really, really well. Luckily everyone I know in the region is alright, so that’s a relief, but it’s still been quite the event.

In better news, I still got to do a day trip today! I went further back in history than I’ve been before; off we go to the Yayoi period, which lasted from 1000 BC until 300 AD. Below my report on visiting Yoshinogari Historical Park!

 Well, first things first: I needed the train to get there. As it turns out, there is one train a day that goes from Hakata station straight to Yoshinogarikoen, and that’s the Midori 5 – which is connected to the Huis ten Bosch train, haha. I had taken that one before back in 2015, but now, I got off several stations earlier.

Yoshinogarikoen station is already called after the park, although it’s still a 15 minute walk from there. Not to worry, though. It’s an all but entirely straight road from the station, and in the unlikely case you get confused, there are boards around every hundred meters telling you where to go. It felt like walking through the countryside before I got there, with farmers going about their business around me.  

I secured a ticket and received a map last-minute, which was just as well, because wow, this park is huge. Granted, parts of it serve as festival grounds and recreational areas, but it’s big enough that there’s a bus driving around to cut some time. I, uh, accidentally still skipped some bits…

Anyway! The Yoshinogari hills were initially destined to become industrial area for the Saga prefecture, until they discovered all kinds of ruins and relics here and put those plans on hold. Starting from the 1980s, studies and excavations here found that it was actually one of the largest moat encircled villages from the Yayoi period. It was during this time that the cultivation of rice and permanent settlement began, so quite the important moment in history. There’s even some controversy whether or not this could have been the capital of ancient Yamatai, a center of power in that time and which was supposedly ruled by shaman Queen Himiko, the first ruler of (part of) Japan acknowledged in Chinese chronicles.

At any rate, much of the historical park is dedicated to reconstructing the settlements to the way they must have once been. I started at the Minami Naikaku, the South Inner Enclosure, which has several watchtowers and the king’s residence. You could enter most of the residences here, although you definitely have to duck, haha, and some featured mannequins while others featured artifacts. It was pretty cool exploring here, hopping in and out and getting a feel for life in that period.

Across the moat, I found the storehouses and market as well as the North Inner Enclosure, Kita Naikaku. The same principles applied, although the North Inner Enclosure is extra special, as it is the most sacred place featuring a huge ceremonial hall. Upon entering, mannequins were seated in a meeting with the king on the first floor. Further up on the second floor, the high priestess was attempting to be possessed with their ancestors or gods in order to convey their message. The attention to detail was pretty amazing, and this area too was great to walk around in. In the distance, I could hear the festival music, and I even caught a Lilo & Stitch song, haha. I thought I was imagining things, but nope, I quick peek from a watchtower taught me they were performing the dance and everything. So that’s ancient and modern history right next to each other.

As I continued, I came to the last part of life in the Yayoi period: burial grounds. On Okinawa, I’d learnt of the bone washing ceremony instead of cremation. Here, however, the bodies were immediately buried in jars, which were of course fairly huge to contain an adult person. There was a field full of jars, but there was also a burial mound nearby. Upon entering, it turned out that these jars were the real thing. They’d reconstructed the excavation site as it had been when first discovered, including the jars and the sword fragments found within. So that was quite the impressive sight.

At this point, I decided to take that bus to the start of the park, although I wasn’t done yet. I got off at the West gate, although I only found recreational areas here and some lovely flowers and a pond. Continuing on to the East gate, through which I’d entered the park, I stumbled across the South village, which had the buildings for the ‘common’ people recreated (the areas I’d visited before were for the elite). I rushed past here, intending to check it out later, as I was getting pretty hungry and was curious to the menu.

I ended up with a dish with Saga prefecture beef croquette – things, haha, and rice native to the region. It was delicious and powered me right up, so I went outside again – and promptly got sidetracked, as there was a giant tent with workshops. I entered it to check it out, and as it turns out, during weekends there are some extra workshops, including one for mirror making. It wasn’t cheap, but the resulting mirror looks lovely, and mirrors are closely associated with the sun goddess Amaterasu (and also aforementioned Himiko), so I was kind of sold already, haha. A volunteer of the park kindly guided me through the process of application, and then I could get to work immediately! I got to do everything from casting molten silver in the mold, to sanding, and sanding, and sanding, and eventually polishing the mirror. Sadly there was a little hole in my mirror from casting, so they offered me a replacement, but I was like no, this is my mistake, my mirror, I’m gonna own up to it, haha. Also, who is gonna believe I made my own mirror if it looks perfect?

It was hard work and it took quite a bit longer than the scheduled hour I think, but the people here were really nice and helpful, and I even got to chat for a bit with the volunteer guide about Japan in all its aspects.

That being said, I was very proud of my mirror, and it was also already past 4 PM with the park closing at 5, oops. I was getting kind of tired too (not to mention my hands from all that polishing), so I made my way back to the station. Oops, I accidentally skipped the commoner settlement and also the entire forest of ancient plants at the other side of the park... Surely I have to go back!

I caught a train to Shin-Tosu, where I got a shinkansen so quickly that I think I ended up back on Hakata station within 20 minutes or so, whoa. I made one more round through Canal City before having dinner here, and then I got back to my hotel room.

I’ve spent the better part of the evening repacking my suitcase, oops. I got it shut, though! Just need to get out my toiletries tomorrow morning for a bit, but it was fairly easy to close my suitcase, so I expect no trouble.

 And so with that, the chapter on Kyushu closes. Fukuoka, thank you for hosting me again and for keeping me safe. I really enjoyed my time here, from the spectacle of Sakurajima to the charms of Karatsu and the hot springs of Beppu, from re-exploring bits of Fukuoka to traveling back in time today. Time has really flown here. It was my second time on Kyushu, and the second time I’m pleasantly surprised. Honestly, my only complaint is how big the spiders are, haha. (Well, bugs in general. As it turns out I had never seen a praying mantis in real life before, because I quite literally tripped over one today and proceeded to freak out over how big it was. It looked straight at me too, help.)

Tomorrow, I have an early train to catch to Okayama. I’m not entirely sure how that region is doing, since the winds and rain have been worse there, although not much compared to Tokyo and surroundings. Shinkansen from Okayama stopped running, but into the other direction. None of the trains I’ll take have been affected, so I’m not expecting a lot of trouble for now. We’ll see.

I’m sad to leave Kyushu behind, but also excited to revisit Okayama (and all of its peaches), so at least there’s something nice to look forward to.

Thank you for reading and see you tomorrow!  

[missmeikakuna]

So, Apparently, I Find Fairies Hot Chapter 2

Rated: T

Fandom: Original Fiction

Relationship type: Male/Male

Description: You know those movies and TV shows in which an effeminate gay character has a crush on the popular jock? Strike that, reverse it.

Daniel is technically popular at school but fades into the crowd. After an injury at footy (Australian football) practice, he is forced to focus on improving his grades, starting with English. Luckily, the new kid in school knows a lot about Shakespeare and is willing to tutor him. Now if only this new guy wasn't so attractive.

CONTENT WARNING: Homophobic slurs are used. Also, there are some sexual references but nothing too graphic.

Chapter 2: Is it gay to read a play?

Daniel sniffled, rubbing his nose. As he walked home he scowled at every flower he passed. He was walking alone, looking at his phone several times a minute in case Eddie cancelled. 

He gasped a little when he felt a weight on his shoulder. He turned around and saw a grinning Eddie with his hand on his shoulder, moving forward from the momentum of running.

‘I may as well walk with you,’ he explained with heaving breaths. ‘That way I can get to your place straight away and we can study a bit earlier.’ He took a closer look at Daniel. ‘Why do you look so grumpy?’

Daniel sighed. ‘Spring. Fucking hay fever.’

‘That’s a shame. I love Spring. It’s like all the plants are rising from the dead. That and Halloween’s in Spring.’ Daniel chuckled. ‘What?’

‘Rising from the dead? The only thing that’s rising is my impatience for all this pollen.’ A sneeze.

Eddie turned to his side but continued walking the same direction. ‘Are you taking any medicine for it?’

Daniel shook his head. ‘I’ll be fine. I’m just being whiny.’

‘You really should take care of yourself. If you don’t, you’ll end up in the doctor’s office or worse, you’ll be miserable all season.’ Eddie leaned in even closer, not noticing how Daniel’s body tensed up. ‘So, what do you do besides footy… and sucking at Shakespeare?’ Daniel glared at Eddie. ‘What? Okay, to be fair I’ve always sucked at sports. Or does surviving a mosh pit without being squished or trampled to death count as a sport?’

‘I, uh… don’t do much outside of that and watching TV. I need more hobbies. Speaking of which, what did you have on last night?’

‘Corpse Windmill was on and it was their last performance before they head back to the Netherlands. They’re this really obscure comedic technical death metal band. They debuted in 2004 as a reaction to postmodern notions of-’

‘I think I get the point.’ Eddie pouted and Daniel’s heart twisted. ‘Uh, well, actually, instead of telling me about the band you can tell me about that technical metal stuff.’

Daniel halted as if a record had just been scratched. ‘You listen to metal?’

Eddie pointed at his face and laughed. ‘Why are you so surprised? It’s obvious by the name I gave myself. Eddie’s the mascot for Iron Maiden, and Ironpoe’s a combo of Iron Maiden and Edgar Allen Poe, who’s the best gothic writer; you cannot change my mind.’

Daniel frowned at his hands. Into his pockets they went. ‘I don’t know much about metal.’

‘What do you listen to?’

‘Pop and Rap mostly.’

‘Well, there is rap metal but it doesn’t have the best reputation. I’ll try and find a really good artist and show it to you.’

‘Thanks. I just thought you’d listen to, I dunno, songs you’d play in a gay bar.’

‘What songs do they play at a gay bar? I’ve never been to one.’

Daniel looked at the ground. He sneezed. ‘Oh. I haven’t either, obviously, but I imagine they’d be the songs that go ‘doof doof doof doof’ or ‘ins ins ins ins’. I dunno.’

Eddie laughed so hard that tears began seeping out if his eyes. ‘Say that again.’

Daniel bit his tongue.

Eddie scoffed. ‘You’re no fun.’

‘Sorry.’

The two took the rest of the trip in silence.

Eddie took a good look at Daniels home, which was a two-story grey concrete monstrosity with big glass windows and a sizeable garage. The garden was covered with ferns, a palm tree casting a shadow over the sand-coloured cobbled driveway.

When they stepped through the front door, the duo saw Daniel’s mother standing by the kitchen counter, a phone up to her ear and a scowl on her face.

‘Why hasn’t he fired her yet? Honestly, if I have to work with her one more time…’ Eddie waved at her. Daniel’s mother failed to notice him. 

Daniel grabbed Eddie by the arm and dragged him to his room before he could do something to grab her attention. 

Eddie struggled not to turn up his nose when he saw how messy Daniel’s room was. Underneath the unmade bed was a pile of dirty dishes that had been shoved there. Posters of half-naked women were placed across the walls without a thought to making their heights match. However, one part was as clean as Mother Theresa’s criminal record. The desk seemed to have never been touched.

The two boys pulled their copy of ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ out of their bags and sat on the bed. 

‘Okay, first I need to properly assess the damage,’ Eddie said. ‘Could you read the bit we read yesterday again? Actually, read it from here.’ He pointed to the start of the first miniature monologue by Robin.

Daniel took a deep breath. ‘The… king… doth…keep…his-’

‘You can stop now.’

‘I didn’t even finish the first senten-’

‘I’ve heard what I need. I think you’re reading it word by word, even though in real life the words in a sentence should flow together. Try reading the whole sentence before speaking.’

‘What if I get a word wrong?’

‘You keep going. In the theatre, you can’t just stop or slow down if you don’t know what to do. You’ve got to improvise. With Shakespeare, it’s tougher since everybody already knows the lines but the show must go on.’

Daniel did as he was told and smiled when he finished a monologue. When he saw that Eddie’s expression didn’t match his, he frowned.

‘You don’t need to put on a posh voice. Shakespeare’s plays were performed in front of commoners, so everyday people were able to enjoy it.’

Daniel gulped before repeating the monologue. ‘Now what the hell did I just say?’ he asked.

‘Okay, so you’re a fairy jester talking to another fairy. According to you, the king of the fairies is having a party and he’s mad at his wife because she kidnapped a child and now pays lots of attention to the child, making the king jealous. Now read it again with that in mind.’

Daniel nodded. After he finished the monologue, Eddie clapped. Daniel grinned. ‘Now let’s talk about themes,’ Eddie declared.

He taught Daniel the same things Dr Daylings said but rephrased them to be more relatable. Daniel nodded in understanding the whole time.

Eddie looked at the time on his phone. ‘Oh my god, sorry for lecturing you for so long. Let’s take a break and just hang out or something.’ Daniel lied down on his back and sighed in relief. ‘Was I that annoying?’

‘No, you were really good. Where did you learn so much about Shakespeare?’

‘I’ve watched his plays live a lot.’

‘Makes sense. So, um, I have a question. Don’t take this the wrong way.’

‘Well, now I’m worried. What is it?’

Daniel bit his tongue for a moment before continuing. ‘Why do you act so… stereotypical? Like, you almost look like a chick. I mean, you’re clearly not because chicks are hot and… I mean, not that you’re not hot, but… I didn’t mean that that way!’

Eddie spat with laughter. ‘Jesus, you’re blushing!’ He breathed slowly to calm his laughter. ‘I’m just being myself.’

‘But how can you be so open to people you’ve just met?’

Eddie was silent for a few moments as he pondered the question. ‘Well, some gay people can’t really hide it. It’s too obvious. So why should I bother? I know some gay guys just act like regular guys, but I’m just not that. I was always kind of girly. When I officially came out to my parents, they had this bored look on their faces. It kind of pissed me off, not gonna lie. I mean, thanks, Mum and Dad! What, was all this fear for nothing?’

‘When did you know you were gay?’

Eddie chuckled. ‘Oh god. I think it was the cashier at the café my parents took me to every week that made me realise it. He was so cute. Of course, nothing was going to happen between us because he was around fifteen and I was seven, plus I’m pretty sure he was straight.’

Daniel put his hands in his pockets, still lying down. ‘Do… all gay guys know they’re gay that early?’

Eddie shrugged his shoulders. ‘I don’t…’ He frowned for a second before smiling again.  ‘I don’t know any other gay guys outside of the ones I see on Drag Race. Oh, I did meet a bi guy once at an Iron Maiden concert. He didn’t look super stereotypical, but when we were waiting for the show to start I saw he had a pink, purple and blue pride bracelet.’

‘Bi?’

‘You know, bisexual. Bisexuals are… wait, you probably already know that. Phew, I guess I can stop a lecture before it starts.’

Daniel was silent as the image of his old friend spiralled into his mind like a tornado before spinning away, leaving a destroyed mood in its wake.

‘Let’s get back to studying,’ he grumbled.

The next day had English class. After asking the class who wanted to read a part, Dr Dayling’s eyebrows jumped up when he saw Daniel’s hand up.

Daniel read a monologue, constantly looking at Eddie for approval. Eddie gave him the thumbs up and a smile.

Dr Dayling nodded. ‘Well done, Daniel. I have no idea what fairy used their magic on you, but you should thank them.’

During lunch, Daniel invited Eddie to sit on the couch with Daniel’s other friends. James glared at Daniel, but he didn’t notice.

‘Shit, we’ve got PE after lunch, don’t we?’ Eddie asked. James nodded. ‘How do I get fitter?’

Daniel smiled. ‘Well, my gym has a free trial for new members.’

James snickered. ‘What, so he can stare at all the guys in the shower?’

Daniel wanted to respond to that, but he kept his mouth shut. Eddie rolled his eyes. ‘Seriously? Jock guys aren’t my thing anyway.’

A quick, sharp pain pricked Daniel’s heart.

Just as quick was a girl’s response. ‘You watch too many American movies. We don’t have ‘jocks’ here.’

Eddie ignored her and continued ranting about homophobia, making everyone near him groan except for Daniel, who could no longer pay attention to anything Eddie said.