#i still remember the last time i was on stage... several years ago now

[starway7]

Ways ISaT Changed Me: Part 7

Theater references (like, theater as an art, not specific shows) are really tasty. We need more of that.

Characters that think of themselves as the hero/villain of a book are out. Let's bring in more characters that think of themselves as the lead role. We need characters who believe they're only in the ensemble. Characters that don't think they're performing, that they're the audience of the rest of the world's play. Characters that orchestrate events and conclude they must be the director of the show.

Theater roles in non-theatrical fiction >>>

[magics-neptunes-things]

Mockingjay

Hi guys!

Sorry for the wait but here is finally the first chapter for the Luna's Hunger Games :)

I don't know for now exactly how I will ends this, but if you have any suggestion please feels free to send them to me, I might take them for the next chapters.

Also a big THANK YOU to @w-owwomen for your help, you are lovely ♥

Please enjoy ♥

TW : Nothing much for now I think, please let me know if you're not ok with it.

Ona was nervous. Fidgeting with her fingers, she looks at the people on the stage as trying to switch the microphone on. She hates this moment every year, the one where they are selected : the next young people to go to the Capitol. And then, they need to fight for their life in the arena. 

As she's in the oldest of the selectable population, she's in the front now. Her gaze left the people in front of her to look for her family in the crowd. Their parents aren’t far from her, standing next to her brother. Joan’s name never was raffled, their parents only needing to save one more child to be happy. And now he’s too old to be a part of the Games.

At least, that’s what people in the city say.

They also say that they won’t select a child of one of the best craftsmen of the district. But Ona isn’t stupid and she knows that it has nothing to do with that. Sighing softly, she averts her gaze again when she realizes that her mother is almost crying. 

Ona distracts herself as they give their speech and video reminding them why the children must die for the Capitol. Ona hates them. It’s only when they call the name of the male tribute that she listens again. 

“Tony Sanchez”

Ona knows him. He's exactly between her and Joan in age and clearly terrified as he manages to walk to the stage and face the crowd. He's more Joan's friend then hers but they'll still talk when he came to their house.

“Alright, thank you, thank you” the presenter says, stopping fake clapping. “Now, the girl!”

Ona looks at the man carrying the pot and at the presenter as she puts her hand in. She takes several seconds to mix the papers, before taking one out. Ona knows before she opens her mouth.

“Ona Batlle”

She can feel the weight of everyone’s gaze on her and it’s possibly weighs heavier on her than the fact that it’s her turn to go face her death. She remembers the first times she was standing here, holding her brother’s arm. He always managed to reassure her, whispering to her that he will take her place if it was needed. But today, he can’t. And Ona probably wouldn’t let him do it. 

Ona looks at her family again when she’s up the stairs. Her ears are buzzing, making her unable to hear anything around her. Her mother’s crying, her brother placed an arm around her shoulders. And her dad might pass for impassive, but Ona can see the terror and sadness in his eyes. 

After the presentations, Ona and Tony are taken to go to a room to say their goodbye to their family. Ona already knows that room for being here two years ago, saying goodbye to someone she loved. A simple look only informs her that nothing has changed since the last time she came here. 

She doesn’t have time to look at it for very long though, the door opens suddenly, letting her family enter the room. She’s almost crushed in her mother’s arms, deeply sobbing. Just a shared look with her father makes her understand that they think the same things. The tributes from district 8, where she comes from, never stay alive for long in the Games. They aren’t prepared for what is happening during the fight, they don’t know how to survive. 

Joan seems to think the same, too. 

“Take all your classes about survival. Maybe learn to make a fire but don’t do it at night, it will attract your opponents” he says.

Ona nods. She doesn’t need to hear that, she already knows. They had watched the Hunger Games together since they are allowed by their parents.

“Don’t eat something you don’t know and if you have to eat something raw, eat fish not meat yeah?”

“Okay” she says softly, still in her mother’s arms.

She knows that too, but she has the feeling that it helps Joan to say all of this to her. Ona doesn’t want them to cry at her departure. She wants them to stick together. Her family is the thing that helps her survive and be at least a little happy these last few years. 

“Are you going to watch me?” she asks anyway.

“Of course we are” her father talks for the first time. “And no matter what Ona, we are proud of you and love you more than anything.”

Her mother cries harder and despite everything, Ona can’t help but smile softly and rolls her eyes. She’s happy to mean so much for her family, but she doesn’t want them to cry.

“I love you too, all of you.” she answers, trying to have a look at her mother’s face.

Someone is suddenly knocking on the door and Ona feels her heartbeat getting faster. Is it already time to say goodbye? But no, it’s only her best friend who came to say goodbye too. She just wanted to give the Batlles’ some time alone.

Aitana takes Ona’s mother place in her arms and hug her so hard that she might break her several ribs.

“She’ll needs all of her body intact” Joan says, with a hint of amusement in his voice. 

“Promise you’ll fight to come back” Aitana whispers in her ears.

Their eyes cross when she releases Ona and Ona only nods for an answer. Aitana doesn’t seems to need much, stepping back to let someone else have her place. Her best friend knows what Ona is thinking, their connection never having failed since they met when they were maybe six months old. 

Ona loses track of time and soon her parents are talking at Aitana about something. Ona takes advantage, grabbing her brother’s arm. 

“If I don’t come back, promise me you’ll take care of them. And of you.”

Her brother frowns and open his mouth to answer something, but Ona cuts him off. She knows that he probably will say not to talk like that, that she has her chances to come back and everything, but that’s not what she needs right now.

“Please.”

They look at each other, Ona’s brown eyes deep in her brother’s blue ones. He finally sighs, putting a hand on her arm. 

“I swear. But you have to swear back that you will fight for your life, Ona. You are clever enough to survive. You might not have the strength of a bulldozer, but you are smart, quick and tricky”

“I swear too” Ona answers calmly. 

They look at each other for several seconds before Joan nods and takes his little sister in his arms. He wants to say that he’s sorry not to be able to protect her anymore, but he knows that she doesn’t need to hear it to know it. 

********

One and a half hours later, she’s in the train taking her to the Capitol. The journey is long, two days and two nights. It will be the first time that Ona will cross another district. It won’t be too long though, because of the length of the district 8. When she enters the train, someone takes her to her room and asks her about her clothes size. She will need to get rid of the ones she’s wearing now and have to wear what they are giving her instead. 

Thanks god it wasn’t awful, even if it looks like they are keeping the nice clothes for the TV shows. 

She’s sitting in the main room when Tony comes to sit next with her. It’s weird to be face to face with someone who will be your opponent in a few days. He seems unsure too, looking at her from the corner of his eyes. 

“You’re little Joan sister, right?” he says finally after many minutes. 

He knows who she is, Ona thought. But she takes pity on him, he always been friendly with her when he came to see Joan. 

“Yeah” she mumbles. “And you’re Tony.”

“Yeah.”

Awkward.

“So, uh. What were you up to before coming here?” Ona asks. 

The possibilities aren’t multiple in the district, but it’s always nice to ask, Ona thinks. Her parents' finances were pretty good. Ona was living with them in a pretty nice apartment in a pretty nice building. She knows it’s not the same for everyone. 

“I was working in the Armory with my father” he shrugs. 

Ona nods only. What can she answer? The good thing for Tony is that he probably knows about weapons now, unlike her. He doesn’t have time to ask her the question back, before the automatic doors of the wagon opens again. 

Ona raises her eyes to look at the woman coming inside. Her long, blond hair looks like they are the softest she has ever seen, and she has to fight the urge to touch it. Her almond eyes are scanning both of them, before she smiles at them. 

“Hi. I’m Alexia, I’ll be your advisor during the Games.”

Ona recognizes her. She won the Games five years ago, in an arena with the theme of an island. She was strong and never failed anyone. 

“You’re not from district 8” Tony frowns. 

Alexia doesn’t have time to answer before Ona speaks for her. 

“We don’t have a winner who is still alive” she mumbles, rolling her eyes.

She doesn’t look away when Alexia looks at her, shrugging. Like said before, their district isn’t really lucky in the games. A small smile appears on Alexia’s face and it’s still here when she talks again. 

“Ona’s right. That’s why I nominated myself to help you to change that.”

She’s still looking at Ona when she sits down, and the young woman can’t help but look away. She feels like Alexia is scanning her soul with her eyes and it’s quite disturbing. Alexia seems genuinely intrigued by her. 

“First, I’ll answer your questions if you have some and then I’ll explain to you what will happen now. You’ll have several classes with options during your training, we can talk and choose which ones are the best for you. I think it’s more important to value your strengths and not try too hard to work on your weaknesses, we don’t have time for that. It’s important to know them, though.”

Ona likes the way Alexia seems to be thinking. She was scared she’d have to face someone who will tell her that she has her chances to win. She knows it’s wrong. She wants someone to help her, and Alexia seems the right person for her. 

The three of them spend almost a full hour speaking together. Tony seems a little reluctant to open up to Alexia, which Ona thinks is stupid. She’s here to help. As a result, Alexia decides to talk to Tony one on one first. 

“Don’t be shy to use the facilities of the train” Alexia advises her when she leaves the room. “I’ll meet you in your room in around one hour”

Ona decides to explore the train a little more before going back to her bedroom. There aren't a lot of windows on this train, probably to hide the road to the Capitol. Like she would be going back one day.

She passes a room where Peacekeepers are looking at some screens. Ona realizes that some are of places in her district as well as many she doesn’t know. She doesn’t have time to look at it for any longer though, because one of them suddenly sees her and harshly closes the door.

When she comes back in her room, she realizes that a bunch of other clothes are on her bed, neatly folded and ironed. They look nice and Ona carefully puts them in the drawer facing her bed. She then takes a look at the stupidly big bathroom with a bathtub that could probably comfortably fit three people. She decides to refresh herself anyway and when she comes back, changed and showered, Alexia is waiting for her on her bed. 

“Oh, sorry” Ona mumbles.

“No problem.”

They look at each other before Alexia nods towards the bed, asking her to take a seat next to her. Ona obliges, sitting cross-legged and grabbing a pillow to hug it without really thinking about it. 

“So. You are Ona Batlle, 17, both your parents are alive, same as your big brother.”

She waits for Ona to nod before continuing. Alexia seems to have memorized everything as she is not reading off anything.

“What would you say are your strengths?”

Ona shrugs softly, before remembering what her brother told her. He’s probably right, but she hates talking about herself. 

“I can be tricky when I need to, I guess.” she finally answers.

Alexia looks at her with the same scanning-disturbing look that earlier. Ona bites her lip and searches for something else to say, but it’s Alexia that talks first. 

“I hated that too, talking about myself. But you have to realize that it will be talking about yourself that will make Capitol and Sponsors love you. They need to see themselves in you. Sure, there will be shy people watching, but shy people won’t get you any bonus.”

Ona nods. Of course, Alexia’s right. The brunette doesn’t usually like when people try to scold her, but Alexia has the ability to make her understand her point without seeming condescending. She likes it. The blonde grabs a pile of paper behind her and gives it to Ona. 

“Those are the questions that will help me to understand you better. Please fill them in so I can see how to help you.”

Ona takes them, frowning slightly. Her eyes roam them before she looks at Alexia again. The blonde smiles at her before making herself comfortable against the headboard of the bed. Grabbing the pen hanging on the sheets, Ona starts to answer the questions.

********

The next day, Alexia joins them at breakfast with a plan about the obligatory classes and the optional ones she is advising each of them to attend. A quick look at Tony’s sheets makes Ona realize that they aren’t sharing a lot of them.

“Isn’t it better to stick together at the beginning?” she asks their Mentor. 

“It can, but I really think that if you want to work together, it’s better to separate your strengths. And we never know, you can be separated at any point during the Games. It’s important that you can survive alone.”

It’s a polite way to say that they could betray the other at any time, Ona thinks. She looks closer at her sheets, seeing that Alexia added some survival classes like Ona had asked her yesterday. 

“I’ll protect Ona at any coast” Tony says, frowning deeply. 

Ona raises her eyes on him, surprised and a little uneasy at this statement. She feels Alexia’s quick gaze on her before the blonde talks. 

“Great. But she can handle herself and all of the classes will help you both be stronger as individuals.”

She doesn’t add anything while grabbing a plate to put some waffles on it. Ona looks at her sheets again without really seeing them. She’s grateful for Tony’s protection, but doesn’t like being seen as a poor little girl. Sure, she’s may be small and not very muscular, but like Joan said she’s fast. Alexia putted some physical trainings on her timetable, but she doesn’t know what it means exactly. 

********

The train ride is a little boring until they pass District 2. The landscapes are way more beautiful than District 8 which is not surprising. Ona feels impressed by the mountains and the small villages with beautiful small houses. It is nothing like the endless buildings in District 8.

“Oh sorry” Ona says as she enters the TV room.

She wasn’t expecting Alexia to be here, looking at the black screen. The blonde turns her head to look at her but smiles, gesturing for Ona to come to sit next to her. 

“The train is for everyone” she shrugs. “Do you want to watch TV?”

“I never managed to turn it on…” Ona blushes. 

Alexia smiles but doesn’t say anything, grabbing the remotes to turn it on. Ona frowns when she sees a seaside landscape in front of her eyes. 

“It’s District 4” Alexia comments.

Ona nods softly, looking at Alexia from the corner of her eyes. She likes her, in a friendly way. She loves her brother with all her heart, but if she had to choose a big sister, she would have picked one like Alexia. 

“You are from District 10, right?” Ona asks softly, scared to cross a line. 

But Alexia just nods, switching the channel to find a beautiful forest. Once again, very differently of her district where you have to fight to be able to see something green.

“What does it looks like?”

“Like this”

Alexia switches the channel again. It now shows a landscape with a lot of mountains and canyons, beige and red rocks. And in the distance, you can see the sea. The kind of thing Ona only saw in books when she was younger. 

“It looks beautiful” Ona finally says.

“It is. It’s very warm though, I miss the sun when I’m in the Capitol. I live near the sea, with my Mom and my sister.”

“What about your father?” Ona asks.

“He’s dead.”

“Oh, I’m sorry”

She’s a little surprised by Alexia’s blunt answer. She looks carefully at her mentor, but she doesn’t seem mad. She’s not smiling of course, but her gaze is still inviting discussion. 

“Don’t be. It was several years ago. He was sick. It was awful of course, but I try to do things for him now. I just hope he’s proud of me.”

“I’m sure he is.”

It’s maybe top direct, but Ona can’t imagine a parent who will not be proud of Alexia. Her answer makes Alexia smile though.

“Thanks.”

“So you are living with your mother and sister?”

“No, I’m living with my girlfriend actually.”

Her answer makes Ona almost jump. Homosexuality isn’t a thing that is appreciated in Panem. People usually hide it or get married to save appearances. Alexia’s smile gets wider this time, unable to hide her amusement. 

“What? Don’t tell me you’re homophobic?”

There’s a mix of teasing and sincerity in Alexia’s voice. Ona blushes, but probably not for the reasons Alexia thinks. 

“No, I… Quite the contrary actually.”

“Oh, so you have a girlfriend too?”

Ona bites her lip and shakes her head. No, she doesn’t have a girlfriend, but she doesn’t know how to explain things to Alexia. She doesn’t know if she wants to, to be honest. But she feels like she can trust Alexia, which is strange. Because except for her family and Aitana, she doesn’t trust anyone.

“I had one” Ona whispers. 

“What happened?”

Alexia’s tone is the same as Ona’s, like she understands that it’s a sensitive subject for the younger girl. Ona takes a big breath before starting to talk again. 

“Do you remember Jana Fernández? She was a tribute two years ago for my District. She was 15 at the time.”

“I do” Alexia only says.

“It was her. My girlfriend.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

Ona shrugs but doesn’t add anything. She doesn’t talk about Jana to anyone, even if her family knew at the time the nature of the relationship between her and Jana. Her parents and her brother have always been supportive about her sexuality and her choice. Her father said that he will love her no matter what and will crush anyone who will try to put a finger on her. She always felt safe with her family. 

“I knew she only had a small chance, but it’s still hurt” Ona mumbles after a silence. 

She’s not looking at Alexia, so she doesn’t see the sad smile on the blonde’s face. She’s surprised when she feels the other girl place an arm around her shoulders to hug her but she relaxes quickly, after the surprise has passed. 

“It’s hard to live after the loss of someone you loved” Alexia says, waiting for Ona to hums before talking again. “I really think you never heal from it. You just learn to live with that part of you.”

“That’s right. I know she would have wanted for me to continue and maybe move on, but I can’t.”

“Maybe you haven’t found the right girl for now”

Ona shrugs once again, she doesn’t really know. And even if Alexia is right, it’s too late for her now. Her life is almost over.

They don’t say anything else, just looking silently at the different landscapes on TV. Alexia needs to answer a call at some point, so Ona goes back to her room to take a big, long, hot bath. Something she hasn't had a lot in her life. After that, she went to eat something with Tony and the team but left early to go to bed. The talk she had with Alexia exhausted her. 

********

“Ona, come look at it!”

Ona groans when Tony calls her. She was all comfy, reading on the couch but stands anyway, joining him at the window. Ona realizes here that they are arriving at the Capitol and the view is like nothing she has ever seen in person before. Of course, she’s seen it on TV during previous Games, but it has nothing to do with being here in real life.  

“It’s massive” she finally says. 

Alexia hums, bored, from the couch where she was still sitting, leafing through a magazine. But Ona doesn’t look at her, captivated by the city in front of her eyes. Everything is shiny and bright. 

They finally arrive at the train station and Ona wasn’t expecting people to come to see them but the crowd is massive and she lets Tony guides her with an hand on her back. They follow the Peacekeepers taking them to a white vehicle with no drivers. The tinted windows offer them the possibility to look without being gawked at. 

“What’s now?” Ona asks Alexia.

“We will go to our rooms, then I’ll show you the other contestants. The training starts tomorrow.”

Ona nods, swallowing with difficulty. She still can’t believe that everything is really happening, that she’s slowly but surely preparing for her death. Breathing suddenly becomes shallow, so she tries to distract herself by looking by the windows. There is now way that she is having a panic attack right now. 

Alexia’s comforting hand on her arm makes her jump, but she soon relaxes herself into her. Ona looks at the blonde from the corner of her eyes, but Alexia isn’t looking at her. She’s looking outside, but it’s better for Ona like this. 

When they arrive at the place where they will stay, Ona’s mind almost explodes once again. Everything is so big and stupidly fancy. It makes her angry when she remembers that people almost die from hunger outside the Capitol. But she says nothing, she doesn’t know if the other members of the team are thinking like Alexia. 

Ona’s room is big, with a double big bed. She has a TV, a drawer full of clothes and a proper bathroom that’s even bigger than the ones she had on the train. There are a lot of bottles of shampoo, shower gel and all different kinds of products for her skin and her hair.

“At least I’ll die pretty” Ona grumbles.  

“The point is to stay alive, actually”

Ona jumps, hitting her knee on the furniture next to her. She wasn’t expecting someone to be here with her. She turns around to face another girl, brunette with a cocky smile.

“Hi. I’m Leila. I’m your fashion designer.”

“Oh. Hi.”

Leila doesn’t seem surprised by Ona’s lack of dynamic, she might be used. Fashion is never a thing usually in the District and for Ona too. Even if her parents works on that area, they work for the Capitol, not the Districts. They only are authorized to wear what the Capitol lets them.

“Alexia needs you in the living room. You will see your contestants and after that I’ll show you what I designed for you to wear for the different events before the Games.”

They were going to the living room while talking and Ona frowns when she hears that.

“What different moments?”

“Well the interviews on TV and the parade especially.”

Ona answers with a soft groan, not really fond of that kind of thing. She hates being in front of everyone. Leila seems to find this reaction funny based on her smile, but Ona doesn’t comment on it and lets herself fall onto the couch next to Tony. Alexia was standing next to the TV with a remote in her hand.

“Right, so as you already know, we have twelve Districts fighting during the Games. The districts 1, 2 and 4 are the career districts and of course they are the most talented and prepared for the Games. They will be tough opponents.”

“So it's probably best to have an alliance with one of them, right?” Tony asks. 

Ona rolls her eyes and Alexia sees her gesture, making her smile softly. Tony doesn’t though and he keeps looking at Alexia with intensity.

“Maybe” Alexia finally answers. “But they don’t need you, unless you have a special something. They usually make an alliance between them.” 

Tony nods and Alexia puts her attention back on the screen. She presses the buttons to present each tribute from each Districts. First the boy, then the girl. Ona looks at Alexia presenting the twins of 1, the psychopaths of 2 and the Nerds of 3. 

“Now from District 4. Declan Smith. He seems pretty fast, and his father is one of the best fishermen from the District. He probably knows how to craft some interesting things, and of course fishing.”

Ona looks at him, he might be 18 or maybe 17, but clearly not younger. He could easily pass for someone older than 18 though. Alexia clicks on the remote again and a picture of a girl appears on the screen. 

“Lucy Bronze. She’s Jorge Bronze’s little sister, the winner of the Games two years ago. If she’s like him, she’s a great fighter. Very strategic, isn’t afraid of a phsyical fight but clever enough to know when to hide.”

There is a moment of silence while they all look at her picture. 

“She seems… impressive” Tony finally says.

It caught Ona by surprise, because she almost adds “beautiful” to Tony’s sentence. Her face card has probably never declined. She has beautiful green eyes; brown hair and her face is pretty even if she’s not smiling in this picture. Her muscles seem pretty impressive too. 

Ona is so surprised at attraction to the girl in the picture that she isn’t really following what Alexia says after that. She just pouts a little bit at her picture, thinking they could have chosen another one. This one isn’t really pretty.

When she goes to bed several hours after that, she is still thinking about Lucy and it was really annoying her. She doesn’t even know the girl, why is she having such an impact on her? She’s almost eager for the training from tomorrow, where she will probably meet her and see how unbearable she is to help her to get over it.

Chapter After

[bloodibambiidoll]

See you again

(Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader x Fem!OC)

Summary: Your girlfriend surprises you with tickets to see your favorite band, Corroded Coffin for your birthday. You and her spent one magical night with the lead singer over a year ago before they made it big. Will he remember you? (He definitely will.)

Warnings: 18+MDNI M/F/F threesome, OC and reader are in an established queer relationship, spit kink, choking, Dom!OC, Switch!Eddie, Sub!reader, nipple play, unprotected sex, G/G, reader is described to be a bit more shy and has a few moments of self doubt, Oral (F & M receiving) and I think that’s it? If I missed any please let me know! WK: 6.2k

A/N: Okay this was based on a request by @melodymunson for a rockstar!eddie threesome, I know you said you wanted them to be besties but I kind of took some liberties and then it just got away from me and I made lore lol. Potentially might write a prequel about their first night together if anyone is interested in that! Also the top right photo is supposed to depict my OC. Reader has no descriptions besides the outfit she is wearing. Feedback is greatly appreciated!🖤 Read the prequel here.

You eagerly waited in the line to the venue to see your favorite band. You have been a fan since they were still pretty underground, only playing in small bars for a few 100 people and haven’t gotten the chance to see them…see him since they got a record deal and made it big. The first time you saw them the lead singer and guitarist had you transfixed. You felt like a creep because you only knew his name since he said it on stage and yet you couldn’t stop thinking about him when you had your hand between your thighs at night. You went to several shows after that, never having the nerve to talk to him but always making lingering eye contact that you couldn’t tell if you were imaging or not.

Eventually you met your girlfriend Chloe at one of their shows and you and her immediately bonded over your mutual crush on the frontman. It didn’t take you long to realize you also had massive crushes on each other and the rest was history. You weren’t like Chloe, you never would have talked to her if she hadn’t approached you first. She was bold and confident and you were more shy and reserved despite the way you dressed insinuating otherwise. So when she told you at the last show you guys had gone to that she was going to just walk up to Eddie and ask him if he wanted to fool around with you guys you felt like you were going to pass out.

“Come on baby, we have talked about and fantasized about this so much. You might not want to believe it but I see the way he looks at us, I don’t think he would turn us down and even if he did that’s the worst that could happen.”

But he didn’t turn you down, his voice squeaked when he answered her and it made you feel a little better knowing he was nervous too. The three of you spent what was one of the best nights of your life together in the back of his van right outside the bar. Afterwards he told you over breakfast at a local diner that they had gotten signed very recently and would be moving out to California in the next week. You congratulated him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek before you parted ways and you haven’t seen him since.

So when Chloe surprised you with the tickets for your birthday, making a whole big thing of it, driving to the city and going shopping for new outfits. You were both equally nervous as you were excited. It’s not like there was even a guarantee he would see you or even recognize you but the possibility had you clenching your thighs thinking back to that night.

You made sure to get there early so when the doors opened you were able to rush to be directly up front against the bar. As people flooded in, you really looked around and realized how big the place truly was.

“This is crazy, I can’t believe how popular they are now. It was only a year ago when we saw them in that tiny bar in town.”

Chloe looked over at you and smiled “I know, it’s like they blew up over night! I’m excited to hear them play some of their new shit live!” She put her hands on your hips and got close to whisper in your ear.

“Plus… I don’t hate the idea of seeing Eddie again…”

You put your arms around her neck and bit your lip, looking into her pretty crystal blue eyes “I know, I don’t either”

You giggled, twisting some strands of her dyed cherry red hair at the back of her neck around your fingers before your face fell. “He probably won’t even see us though, even if he did, who knows if he would even recognize us at this point? I’ve heard his songs on the radio and seen his pictures in magazines. He's probably been with tons of girls since then.”

•

Little did you know Eddie had already noticed you. He was standing off to the side of the stage absentmindedly watching the local band that was opening for them tonight when saw you standing right in front with your girlfriend's arms wrapped around your shoulders. He felt his pants getting tighter just knowing he was in the same room as you. With the venues and crowds getting bigger and bigger he wasn’t sure he would ever see you again. But there you were looking pretty as ever in a tiny little leopard print top and a tight leather skirt with studded belts layered on it and he suddenly felt extremely nervous to go on stage for the first time in a while.

He thought about you as much as you thought about him. He thought about Chloe too, but he thought about you just a tiny bit more. He had seen you at his shows several times, way before he ever saw her. But he was always too nervous to talk to you. You truly intimidated him with your sexy little outfits, the way the black make-up was always perfectly smoked around your eyes making them pop, those glossy lips he wanted so badly to feel on his skin. You always came alone until one day you didn’t, you showed up with this gorgeous girl that was almost as tall as him, with cherry red hair and beautiful blue eyes that sparkled as she looked down at you. When he saw her wrap his arms around you and kiss you he was so disappointed he felt like his heart was going to fall out of his ass.

But then your girlfriend started making eye contact with him when he was on stage, looking him dead in the eyes as you swayed your hips against hers and she placed innocent seeming kisses on your neck when the look in her eyes was anything but. She would wink at him over your shoulder while she grabbed your ass and at that point he knew she was definitely teasing him. Even though he was pretty much positive that was the case, the small chance that it wasn’t was enough to deter him from approaching you in fear of coming off as a creep.

That night when you both walked up to him and pretty much straight up asked him if he wanted to fuck even with all of the crazy new experiences he’s had in the last year that was still the best night of his life. It played on a loop in his mind more often than he’d like to admit so the fact that you were standing there front and center at his show felt like the universe was blessing him and there was no way he was going to pass that up.

•

After the opening band finished there were people all over the stage, switching out instruments and equipment to get ready for CC to come on. The lights lowered and you felt butterflies in your tummy at the prospect of seeing Eddie again. When he came out you felt like you would’ve dropped to the ground if Chloe didn’t have her arms around you. He was always beautiful but now? He was otherworldly. If the fact that he wasn’t wearing a shirt and had added several tattoos to his chest since you saw him last wasn’t enough already he was wearing fucking leather pants that looked like they were painted on his body, a bit of eyeliner smudged around his eyes and his hair was styled to perfection.

As soon as he stood center stage, directly in front of you he made eye contact with you and smiled a big goofy smile at you. You felt like the butterflies in your stomach were going to explode. You looked back at Chloe with a flustered look on your face.

“You saw that.. right?” You gulped.

“Oh yeah, I saw that. I knew he would remember us, how could he forget? Especially you baby, you’re just so pretty.”

She smoothed some of your hair that was out of place and cupped your jaw. You leaned into her hand, she had this way of making you feel all fuzzy and warm with just her words and a simple touch and you felt your nerves calm slightly. It was short lived though, Eddie’s voice came through the speakers and flooded your senses.

“Hey everyone! You ready to fucking rock this bitch?!” As he played the first few chords of the first song everyone cheered, including you. As he played through the first songs of the set you were in absolute awe of him. You felt so proud of him, of all of them, seeing them in this environment. The way he worked the crowd, looking so natural up there, dominating the room with his presence. You couldn’t keep your eyes off him, bouncing between the way his fingers were working the guitar to the way his lips looked when he sang, wet with a mixture of spit and sweat. It made you think about how his hands and mouth felt in other places.

It didn’t help that he couldn’t keep his eyes off you either. He kept making eye contact with you and winking, standing directly in front of you with those fucking leather pants that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. His cock looked so big you literally wanted to pull his pants down right there and suck him off in front of everyone.

“He looks so fucking hot” Chloe whispered in your ear while leaving a few warm wet kisses along your pulse point causing you to subconsciously lean your head back on her shoulder grinding back against her and letting out a little whimper.

“Yeah…” you sighed “He fucking does” you looked back up at him and he was looking directly at you with a lust filled gaze as he sang. Chloe was still kissing your neck and knowing her she was staring back at him with the same intensity.

She was whispering dirty things in your ear while her hands roamed your body, leaving small wet kisses on your cheek and jaw. Eddie was up there, unable to take his eyes off the two of you, thrusting into his guitar and practically making out with the microphone. All through the show they continued their back and forth teasing, with you caught in the middle of it, just trying to stay standing upright at this point.

After the current song ended he bent down to whisper to one of the security guards, you watched him tilt his head towards you, and he sent you a wink before standing back at the center of the stage.

“Alright guys, this is gonna be our last song of the night!! You guys have been so awesome, thank you for coming out!!”

Halfway through the song the security guard Eddie whispered to approached you. “He wants to see you backstage.”

He opened the gate just enough for you both to slip through it. You heard a few girls making jealous comments and throwing insults your way but you genuinely couldn't care less at this moment.

You followed the guard backstage, with Chloe behind you as they finished up their final song. You stood off to the side as he thanked everyone and wished them a good night when he noticed you. He immediately started walking towards you, time felt like it was going in slow motion and your head was spinning the closer he got.

He walked right up to you, placing his hands on your shoulders and beaming at you.

“Hi princess” He pulled you into his arms and enveloped you in everything Eddie. His sweaty bare chest was pressed up against your cheek and he smelled so fucking good. Like sweat, cigarettes, a hint of weed, and a cologne that smells more expensive than the one he wore last time you saw him.

“Hi Eddie” you wrapped your arms around his waist and sighed, slightly muffled by the way your face was shoved into him. Wrapping his arms around your shoulders and locking you close to him, he rests his chin on your head so he can look past you at Chloe.

“Hey pretty boy” you heard her say as you felt her come up behind you and reach past you to run a finger along Eddie’s jaw before cupping it in her hand. “Did you miss us?”

He bit his lip and nodded, but Chloe wasn’t having any of that. She shoved her hand into his hair and pulled hard, causing him to let out a sexy groan that made you have to hold back a whimper of your own.

“Words babe, I wanna hear you say it” The way she was talking to him had you already feeling fuzzy and you knew it wasn’t going to take much for you to be in that fucked out headspace she always puts you in.

“Y-yeah I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see you after last time… we didn’t exchange numbers or anything so when I saw you two standing out there I thought I was dreaming again.”

“Again?” She cocked her eyebrow at him “Have you been dreaming of us honey?” She was fully pressed up against your backside now, with Eddie still caging you in from the front.

“Fuck yes I have” He groaned “How could I not?” He tilted his head so he was looking down at you “You’re the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen…”

You looked up at him through your lashes and brought your bottom lip between your teeth, feeling a lot less nervous now that you know he’s been thinking of you.

You got up on your tiptoes so you could whisper directly in his ear.

“We want you Eddie… take us to your dressing room, please?” You flicked your tongue out and licked behind his ear, sucking a little while you rubbed your hands down his chest.

“Fuck. You guys are going to kill me. I’ll do you one better though, take you to my way too fancy for me to comprehend hotel room and fuck you on the big king sized bed… All. Night. Long.” His hand came up to the nape of your neck and squeezed, this time you couldn’t hold it back, you let out a little whimper.

“Oh yeah? All night pretty boy? You think you can keep up with us?” She grabbed his chin, squishing his cheeks together and shaking his head from side to side a little. Seeing the way Eddie submitted to her was driving you insane, thinking back to how dominant he was with YOU it was so sexy how easily she could turn him into putty in her hands.

She brought her lips back to your neck, kissing and licking while she looked over you into Eddie’s eyes in that way that drove him absolutely crazy.

“Fuck. Alright. Let’s fucking go before I lose my mind start fucking you right here.” He let go of you and you immediately missed his embrace, but he grabbed your hand, dragging toward the back exit and to the car he had waiting, pulling Chloe along behind you. 

The short drive to his hotel was a blur, you were sandwiched between them in the backseat, two sets of hands and lips roaming your body. They were grabbing at your chest, your thighs, kissing and licking on your neck leaving marks and love bites, you were completely at their mercy. When the car started coming to a stop you all practically jumped out, giggling and smiling at each other as you started running hand in hand towards his room.

•

As soon as the door was shut Eddie was on you, he grabbed your face in his big hands and ran his thumbs over your cheeks, his rings were cool and it felt nice on your heated skin “You are so beautiful.” He smiled down at you and then kissed you way more gently than he had in the car, he kissed you like you meant something to him and it was confusing and a little scary but it made your insides feel like they were on fire.

“Okay I get it, you guys are obsessed with each other and that’s very cute and all but I want you both on your fucking knees. Now.” Chloe was standing a few feet away from you, with her hands on her hips and a fire in her eyes that went straight to your core. You kicked off your boots and slid down to your knees without hesitation. It took Eddie’s brain a second to compute not only that this was actually happening right now but how hot your dynamic was. The way you immediately submitted to your girlfriend made his cock even harder than it already was and he wasn’t even sure how that was possible at this point.

He stood there dumbfounded for a second before she walked over to him and grabbed his jaw in her hand, pulling his face close to hers. “I told you to Get. On. Your. Fucking. Knees.”

He stared at her with wide brown eyes before kneeling down next to you.

“Good. You gonna be a good boy for me? I’ll only let you touch my girl if you’re good.” She was bent down to look him directly in the eyes, seeming even taller than she already was and he kind of felt like he was going to bust in his pants right now.

“Yes, I’ll be good. Promise.” He was looking up at her with those pretty doe eyes, driving her crazy.

“Good boy.” She ran her thumb over his bottom lip and he lapped his tongue over it before taking it into his mouth. “Very good boy.”

You squirmed in place, shoving your hands between your legs and squeezing as you watched them. You were honestly so horny at this point you needed one of them to touch you before you exploded. The way Chloe was talking to him was so fucking hot.

“Mmm and we have my good girl too” she said as she looked over at you. “Are you gonna be a good girl for me and Eddie tonight honey?”

“Yes I wanna be good” you bit your lip and nodded eagerly.

“Good. You can start by getting those hands from between your thighs, I didn’t give you permission to do that.” You stuttered out an apology and rested your hands on your lap.

“I’ll let it slide just this once, because my baby is just so eager huh? Want us both to fuck you so bad don’t you?”

“Yes, I want it so bad, been wanting it so bad. I need it.”

“Look how pretty you both look on your knees for me.” She brought a hand to each of your throats and applied just the right amount of pressure. “Take each other's clothes off.”

She didn’t have to tell Eddie twice he practically ripped off the leather jacket he put on in the car and then turned to you and undid the tie at the front of your top.

“Fuck, no bra sweetheart? Are you trying to kill me?”

You bit your lip and nodded “I was hoping that maaaaybe we might see you, I didn’t see any point in wearing it if you were just going to take it off.”

He groaned as he pushed your shirt off your shoulders before leaning in to kiss your neck, making his way down to your chest. But before he can get very far he’s yanked back abruptly by hair.

Chloe towered over him, blue eyes boring down into his.

“I said to undress her, I didn’t give you permission to kiss her, did I?” She gave his hair another tug, causing him to let out a pornographic sounding moan.

“Naughty boy. Open.” He obeyed immediately, sticking out his tongue and looking up at her through his lashes. She let some drool slide off her tongue and onto his and he swallowed without hesitation.

“Now stop being a brat and take her clothes off like I fucking told you to. You can play with her when I say you can.”

“Shit, fuck, yeah okay.” Eddie felt like he died and went to heaven and even more so when his eyes wandered back to you. Your bare chest rising up and down with every breath you take, leaning back on your hands and stretching your legs out in front of you, you bend your knees slightly so he could see up your skirt. There was a little wet patch on your red lace thong and he wanted nothing more than to just bury his face there. You could see the look in his eyes shift then, the entire night he’s looked at you in awe but now he’s looking at you like he wants to destroy you and you want nothing more.

He leans forward, not taking his eyes off yours and starts unbuckling the belts layered on top of your skirt. He’s doing it slowly, like he’s playing with you already despite Chloe’s protests. When the final belt comes off he pulls down the zipper on your skirt before taking it off entirely, leaving you in just your thong.

“God damn baby, look at you.” He smirked at you, running his hands down your calves, the touch sending electric shockwaves up your legs and straight to your pussy. He brought his hands all the way up your legs before looping his fingers in the band of your underwear and pulling them down your ankles.

“Fuck. Look at that pretty pussy, I can see how wet you are from here.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. “Your turn, lean back.”

He assumes your previous position, legs outstretched, weight supported on the palms of his hands as he leans back. You don’t waste any time leaning forward and undoing his belt before hastily undoing his pants and pulling them down his legs. You could see the outline of his cock in his boxers, leaving nothing to the imagination. Long and thick and so fucking hard, a little wet patch forming on the gray fabric. Your mouth watered at the sight. You ran your hands down his chest to his hips before pulling his boxers off. His dick bouncing out and landing on his stomach.

“Fuck. God.” You groaned. “I want you in my mouth so bad.” You looked over to Chloe with pleading eyes, who was now sitting on the edge of the bed completely naked, legs spread.

“You wanna suck him off baby? How about this, since you’ve been such a good obedient little girl for me tonight you can suck his dick while I eat your pussy. How’s that sound?”

“Yes. Please.” You whimpered, she knew exactly how that sounded to you, fucking amazing.

“Okay baby girl, get on the bed, hands and knees.”

You stood immediately, walking over to the bed and getting into the position she asked. You faced them with your back arched so your ass was in the air and stuck your tongue out. A little bit of drool dripping onto the bed. Like a toy, waiting and ready to be played with. Eddie was the first to approach you, cupping your face in his hand gently before grabbing your chin roughly between his pointer finger and thumb and squishing your lips together.

“Look at you, such a good girl, you just want us to treat you like a little fuck doll, huh?” Your eyes rolled back and you moaned, this is what you fucking wanted.

“Yes, please please.” You weren’t above begging at this point. The tension has been building since you saw him on stage and you can’t take much more of them not touching you in some capacity.

“No need to beg doll, I’m gonna give you exactly what you want.” He let go of your chin and held his palm out in front of your mouth. “Spit.”

You grab his hand in both of yours, looking him straight in the eyes as you lick across his palm before spitting on it. He groans, bringing his hand to his cock and stroking it a few times. You felt the bed dip behind you, familiar hands running along your ass before placing a rough smack there causing you to yelp. You looked over your shoulder to see your girlfriend sucking her fingers into her mouth. Her tits on full display, big and full with the prettiest pink nipples you loved to suck.

She brought the fingers in her mouth to your dripping folds, running them up and down your slit. You sighed in relief at the feeling of finally being touched. She inserted two fingers deep into you while making eye contact with you in that way she did that made you feel like you were going to melt. You felt a large hand grab onto your hair, pulling it to turn your head. Eddie was looking down at you with equal intensity, still lazily stroking his cock.

“Eyes on me baby. Stick your tongue out.”

You stuck your tongue out and he slapped his cock against it a few times, but it wasn’t enough, you were tired of the teasing so you took matters into your own hands and wrapped your lips around his head. You swirl your tongue around it a few times before taking as much as him as you could down your throat.

“Holy fuck! O-oh my god, your mouth is so fucking good.” He grabbed onto your hair and tugged, looking down at you with hungry eyes as you began to bob your head up and down on his cock. Chloe continued to move her fingers in and out of you, bringing her thumb to your clit causing you to moan around Eddie.

She suddenly removed her fingers and you whined in protest but you didn’t have to feel the loss of her touch for long because suddenly her tongue was licking a stripe from your hole to your clit before circling it with her tongue and sucking it into her mouth. You pulled off Eddie’s cock to moan loudly at the feeling.

You looked back at her for a moment, she was on her back, one arm wrapped around your thigh, her other arm is out of sight but you can tell by the way it’s moving that she’s touching herself. Fucking god, they’re going to be the death of you.

You turned back to the naked metal head standing over you and looked up at him through your lashes. “Fuck my mouth Eddie, use me.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He mumbled before grabbing back onto your hair, shoving his cock all the way down your throat. He pulled back almost all the way then repeated the action before he started thrusting in and out of your mouth, using your throat just like you asked.

Chloe was still devouring you from behind, circling two fingers around your hole before inserting them, curling them and hitting that perfect spongy spot inside you. Between that and the way Eddie was looking at you while he abused your throat you felt yourself getting close already.

“You gonna cum already baby?” She mumbled against your pussy. “I can feel you tightening around my fingers.”

“You’re already gonna cum? You like us using you like this huh? Getting your pussy eaten while I abuse this little throat of yours.” Eddie started thrusting faster and Chloe sucked harder on your clit and that’s all it took. His words and the feeling of them all over you sent you over the edge. Rubbing back against Chloe’s mouth and moaning loudly around Eddie’s cock you felt white hot pleasure run through your entire body.

He releases his grip on your hair, letting his cock slip out of your mouth while Chloe kisses up your spine before flipping you over onto your back, straddling you and kissing you roughly. She tasted like you, the cinnamon gum she always chews, and you could slightly taste the strawberry chapstick she put on earlier that night. It was intoxicating. She lifted one of your legs and sat between them so she could rub her pussy against yours. She started slowly grinding on you but quickly picked up the pace, humping against you hard and fast. Both of your tits bounced with each thrust and you reached up to grab onto hers, squeezing her nipples between your fingers. The room was filled with the sound of your moans and the slick noises of you rubbing against each other.

“God damn, you guys are so fucking sexy.” You tilt your head to look over at Eddie, he’s standing there naked and tattooed, his dick hard and throbbing while he strokes it.

“Get over here pretty boy, come fuck our girl while I sit on her face” our girl, you liked the sound of that.

She rolled off of you and pulled your head into her naked lap, reaching down to take both your tits in her hands before roughly pinching your nipples.

Eddie came over and got on the bed between your legs, looking down at you like prey. “I’m going to fucking destroy this pussy princess.”

He leaned down and kissed you rough and hard before sitting up and grabbing his cock to position it at your entrance. The stretch of him pushing inside you was delicious, he thrust in and out a few times before pushing himself all the way in, his hips against yours and his balls touching your ass.

“God damn you are so fucking tight.” He started fucking into you hard and fast, unable to pace himself. “You feel s-so fucking good, being such a good girl for us.”

Chloe positions herself so her legs are on either side of your head and her pussy is directly above your mouth and you take the hint right away. Grabbing onto her thighs to pull her to your mouth and licking a stripe up her pussy before shoving your tongue inside her, fucking her with it.

“Mmm fuck baby, your mouth always feels so good.” She moaned as you wrapped your lips around her clit. Leaning forward she resumed playing with your boobs, tweaking and pinching your nipples, landing a slap on them here in there causing you to yelp and moan into her each time. She started riding your face, and you let her decide the pace, just holding onto her thighs while you let her use your tongue.

Eddie brought his thumb to your clit and started rubbing circles on it while he continued to pound into you, letting out moans that you wanted to record and listen to over and over again like your favorite song. You felt him lean forward and you couldn’t see but you could hear them making out above you. Chloe’s pace picked up and so did Eddie’s. The circles on your clit got faster and you could hear them moaning against each other's mouths. You were close. So so close.

“Oh god baby, I’m gonna need you to come soon because I’m not going to last much longer between how tight you’re squeezing me and the view I’m looking at I’m going to fucking explode any second.” He grabbed your legs and held onto them by your thighs so he could change his rhythm and hit the exact right spot that had you seeing stars. You writhed underneath them both, moaning and meeting Eddie’s thrusts best you could with your limited movement. Seconds later you felt him spilling inside of you just as Chloe’s movements in your tongue increased in speed. You leaned up slightly to wrap your lips around her clit, sending her over the edge. She moaned loudly, throwing her head back, as she continued to rub against your mouth while she rode out her high.

Eddie was completely fucked out, he pulled out of you and watched his cum drip out of your pussy down your ass and when he looked up he felt like he was about to get hard again already. Chloe was riding your face, her head thrown back, hand in her hair, skin flushed. She looked absolutely mesmerizing.

Once she came down scooted off your face to come lay down beside you. “Fuck. That was so hot.” She was panting as she wrapped her arm around your shoulders and placed a kiss on your cheek. “You are such a good girl.”

Eddie came and laid on the opposite side of you and wrapped his arm around your waist nuzzling his face into your neck. “The best girl.” He said.

You sighed in content and giggled at the praise.

“Happy Birthday, sweet girl.” Chloe leaned over and kissed you softly.

Eddie sat up abruptly next to you. “WHAT!? It’s your birthday!? Why didn’t you tell me!? We could’ve done something to celebrate!”

You looked over at the clock, it read 2:37AM “I mean it’s not my birthday anymore, and I’m pretty sure we just celebrated, several times.” You laughed.

“Okay technically we kinda celebrated. But you know that’s not what I meant, I meant actual birthday stuff. Like cake and singing happy birthday and all that. You deserve that.” He pouted.

“Eddie! It’s fine, this is all I wanted. Chloe surprised me with this trip and this is more than I could’ve ever asked for on my birthday.” You smiled at him and ran a reassuring hand down his arm. “Plus you didn’t even know it was my birthday, how could you? Don’t feel bad silly.”

“Okay well still!! I want to do something for you. This is the last stop on tour and we are playing two more shows here in town. Let me take you to dinner tomorrow.” He put his hand over yours, smiling hopefully at you.

“Eddie… I- We-“ you struggled to find what to say.

“Eddie, baby, we would love that. But, we spent all of our cash on this trip and we only have money for gas and food on the way home. We weren’t even going to stay tonight since we couldn’t afford a hotel and you so graciously let us stay here. But we really can’t afford to stay here another night. I’m sorry.” Chloe spoke up for you, not in a controlling way, she just knows sometimes you have a hard time telling people no. Especially when you don’t want to.

“No, I mean stay here with me in my hotel. We can do whatever you want tomorrow, and then I’ll take you out to a nice fancy dinner.” Fuck, did he really want that? It honestly sounded amazing, but you didn’t even have extra clothes. There was no way you were going to go to a nice dinner with a newly famous rockstar in the clothes you wore all night.

“Eddie I’d really love that, and it’s so sweet that you want to do that for me but we don’t have extra clothes, and I’d feel bad just imposing on your space and having you spend your money on us.” It hurts you to say no to him, you can see his face fall a bit before it lights back up in a smile.

“Sweetheart, listen… I have so much money now I don’t know what to do with it. I’ll take you guys shopping, you can get clothes for the next few days and something pretty to wear to dinner. Pleeeeease??” He sticks his lip out and puts his hands together like a kid on Halloween begging for one more piece of candy.

“That sounds fucking amazing honestly, I’m in. Let him do this for you baby, he wants to and you deserve it.” Chloe looked over at you both with a Cheshire Cat smile before placing a kiss on your forehead. “I know it’s hard for you to let people do things for you, but if you can’t do it for you, do it for me? Because I really fucking want the rockstar Eddie treatment for a day.”

She wasn’t wrong, he’s practically begging to spoil you, it wouldn’t hurt to let him, would it?

“Fuck it. Okay. You can take us shopping and to dinner but I’m going to suck your dick so good and fuck your brains out after. As a thank you.”

His dick twitched at the thought. “Fuck princess, you can’t talk like that you’re going fo get me going again.”

“Who said I wasn’t trying to do exactly that?” You bit your lip and moved your hand to palm his now semi hard cock.

“Yeah? You wanna go again?” He looked like he just won the lottery.

“Hell yeah we do pretty boy, I specifically remember you saying something about ‘fucking us all night long’” Chloe was climbing over you, straddling your lap as she reached out to grab Eddie’s throat. “Did you not?”

“Fuck yeah I did.” He grabbed her face and pulled her into a rough kiss.

Yeah, this was definitely the best birthday of your life, the best day of your life in general honestly and tomorrow was probably going to be even better.

Tagging the bbs who seemed like they wanted to read this: @eddiemunson95 @rip-quizilla @the-unforgivenn 🤭🖤

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 784: The first day's mountain

Pag 1

3: We're passing through the riverside road

4: I see it

6: Kaka

7: Ah!!

8: Teh!

9: It's the first day's

Pag 2

1: “mountain”!!

Pag 3

2: As we “promised”!!

Pag 4

3: It's the “first day's mountain stage”!!

4: A year ago

6: Manami-kun said it after the finish line, on the third and last day of the Inter High, when both of us were all worn out and barely still on our bikes

Pag 5

1: But having our race at the end on the final stage is too much pressure

2: Next year, if we both have the chance to run in the Inter High....

3: …. yeah

4: Let's race for the mountain stage on the first day

Yeah

5: Like Toudou-san and Makishima-san last year

Onoda!!

Manami-san!!

Pag 6

1: Manami!!

Manami-san!!

2: Onoda!!

3: He collapsed!!

Manami!! Take off his helmet

It's okay, I caught him

Onodaa!!

Onoda-san

Do we have a towel?

Danchiku, water!!

4: Next year... the mountain stage on the first day.... yeah

5: Got it....!!

Pag 7

3: When you run along a river....

4: the water only flows if there's a difference in elevation, either uphill or downhill!!

5: Here it's definitely uphill!!

Even if it looks like a flat at first glance, it's gradually climbing!!

Pag 8

1: Toward that mountain!!

Reading the map, it says that it's 5km until the base of the mountain!!

2: 5km!!

3: Don't lose sight of it like last year!!

Yes!! Sorry!!

4: Hold on tight!!

5: 'Cause I'll carry you all the way to the foot of the mountain!!

Pag 9

1: Thank you!!

2: “Positioning”....!!

3: When going from a flat to a climb you need to “position” yourself

Each team accelerates from the flats in order to bring their climbers to a good position

4: It's the so called “mountain's launching pad”!!

5: There will be a difference of several hundred meters in the first stage between a climber who was launched near the front of the group and a climber who was made to run up from the back of the group

Pag 10

1: Bring Onoda to the best possible position, Naruko!!

Oh-

Sohoku is moving up!!

Pag 11

1: -ruaaaagh

Ugh!! Sohoku's Naruko is so fast!!

2: I get what you're tryin to say, Hotshot!!

I'll take him!! Definitely!!

3: That's why I left the first result to Kabu!!

4: On that winter day, with an apologetic face

5: Ah....

6: Ah- uhm, I have something to tell you, but

Onoda-kun, who told us like it was difficult to say....

Pag 12

1: Ah the stove? You can just turn it off, we're the last ones

Yeah, please. Woah, look outside, it's snowing

Seriously? It must be cold

2: That's not it!!

3: Th-th- this morning... I got a text

4: What was that, an acceptance letter?

The proficiency exam?

5: It's a reply to the text I sent....

6: Three months ago!!

7: Uhm... really, I was worried that back when we made that promise it was right after the race and we were tired, so I thought maybe he had forgotten

Three months?

It was a long wait

So I sent him a text to ask him if he remembers?

Pag 13

1: And I received it this morning

Must be the proficiency test

Shut up!!

What are you whispering idiot

“Back when”, when was it?

No idea

2:He said only one word, “of course”

4: So, uhm... this time

5: Is it okay if I run for the first day's mountain stage during this summer's Inter High?

7: Is that so? Kakaka

Onoda-kun's eyes, like he couldn't contain his excitement...

Pag 14

1: I haven't forgotten it!!

2: I can't forget it!!

3: Onoda!!

Onoda-kun!!

Pag 15

1: 2km left until the foot of the mountain!!

2: Do your beeest....!!

Aren't they climbing at an amazing speed!? Each team is getting in line!!

Yeah, you're right!!

3: Every team is trying to “position” themselves for their climbers!!

“Position”!?

4: Also, look closely

Right now, the cyclist in the second position in the ranks

Pag 16

1: is the one who will race in the mountain stage!!

Pag 18

1: Oi, are you kidding me? Hakogaku is sending Manami?

From the first day!?

Manami is in second place

2: He's the “final boss”....!!

3: My dream of getting the red bib has been destroyed even before reaching the foot of the mountain....!!

4: Oi, look over there, that's not all!!

For Sohoku....

5: Naruko is pulling the “King of the mountain”!!

Wa- we're done for!! Completely!! My mountain prize!!

Pag 19

3: Manami-kun!!

4: Sakamichi-kun!!

Pag 20

1: It's time for our promise!!

We're almost at the foot of the mountain!!

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"The Carter Academy for Omega Excellence" Pt 10

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: age gap, boarding school au, a/b/o, dub-con/non-con, spanking, feminization, dumbification, sexism, misogyny, prostate milking, discipline, D/s elements, hurt/comfort, mentions of past self-harm, predatory behavior, teacher/student, bathroom use control, humiliation, omorashi

Summary: Bucky Barnes is young, confused, and conflicted—a real "rebel without a cause" type. His parents ship him off to Steve's reform school to help him get straightened out into a "proper young omega."

Wait! I haven't read an earlier part of this fic! Story Masterlist

Part 10 Expedient Action

Steve watches as the kid’s lower lip trembles, his stubborn little cleft chin moving along with it, and he hums sadly. “Do you remember the last time you were happy, Bucky?”

The boy shrugs, won’t meet his eyes. “Dunno,” he eventually says.

Steve nods, having expected as much. Slowly, he curls his fingers over the top of the towel at Bucky’s waist. Bucky’s stomach sucks in with tension when he realizes that Steve intends to pull the towel off him, but he makes no move to try and stop it. Steve lets it fall to the floor, then looks at Bucky’s lap, eyes briefly considering the state of the omega’s rigid little prick, before sliding to the side to look at his leg. Sadness fills him again at seeing them, even though he’d known they were there.

Right along the top of Bucky’s left thigh are a series of pale lines. Scars, lined up in a tidy little row that begins at his hipbone and ends several inches before the knee. Most are white, but some are pink, still in various stages of healing from the recent past. Months old, but not years. Steve grabs Bucky’s hands when he tries to cover himself. “It’s okay, Buck. You’re not in trouble.”

Bucky whines and tugs his hands away. “Leave me alone,” he groans, sounding miserable. Steve has no doubt that he is, though that doesn’t mean that he’s not aroused, as well. Steve could smell his slick as soon as he’d gotten out of the shower, and it’s only intensified since then. Understandable, after what they’d witnessed from the doorway of Parker’s room. (Steve really needs to give Natasha a good bonus this semester. That woman knows how to get a task done.)

With the towel discarded, Bucky’s scent is rich and unimpeded, that pleasant mix of loamy earth and spiced verbena combining to arouse Steve’s senses. Virtually all omegas smell nice at bare minimum. Even ones pregnant by other alphas still smell good, if not particularly arousing. But again, he’s reminded that the notes of Bucky’s scent stand out to him more than what he’s accustomed to, pulling at all the baser instincts that live in the back of his brain.

He tries his best not to let his enjoyment of it show, but there’s only so much a man can do. He’s wearing his own special brand of compression underwear at the moment. Made for alphas, thank god, or else there’d be a very different situation at the front of his slacks right now. The bloody things are tight as fuck, but they do a good job at concealing all but the most aggressive of boners. And for an alpha who spends his days surrounded by hundreds of teenaged omegas reaching the peak of their sexual maturity, they are a godsend.

Steve rests his hand on Bucky’s leg, right over the scars. Oh Sweetheart, he thinks mournfully. Who did this to you? He lets his thumb trace one silvery-thin line, probably one of the oldest, and hushes Bucky’s whimper when it comes. “When did you start doing this, Honey?” he asks, being careful to keep his voice as gentle and as coaxing as he can. “Shh. It’s okay.”  Poor thing’s just embarrassed as all get-out, and Steve isn’t trying to scold him. “When, Bucky?”

“I dunno.” He shrugs and won’t meet Steve’s eyes. “Couple’a years ago, I guess. I don’t do it anymore. Not … not much.”

“That makes sense,” Steve observes. He’s baiting Bucky, and it works.

The kid peeks up at him. “It does?”

“Sure. Your heats mature at about fifteen, sixteen. That’s when it gets harder. Without a safe and consistent partner with you each cycle, you’re not going to be very fulfilled.” He watches as Bucky frowns down at his lap and thinks about that. “Has that been your experience?” he prods gently. “Feeling unfulfilled?”

“I … no.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Want to try saying that like you mean it?”

Bucky grimaces. “I mean, I didn’t use to think so. It just was what it was, y’know? Most kids don’t have a heat partner, so I figured I was just bein’ oversensitive. I at least had Brock. … Once in a while, anyways.”

“Hm.” 

“I thought that was good,” he says, looking to Steve for confirmation in a way that is pitifully naïve. “Nobody else pairs. Unless they’re dating. And even then, people have lives. They can’t just stop everything for a week every single month. That’d be ridiculous.”

“Right,” Steve says, hating this. He wants to growl and bundle Bucky up and make him see how neglected he’s been, how he deserves so much more. “You felt like you had to make due on your own.”

“Yeah. Sometimes I could get a hookup, at least for the second day of my heat. Those are usually the worst.” Bucky looks away, evasive. “And … I tried some things.”

“Suppressants?”

“Yeah. But before I figured out how to get a doctor to prescribe ‘em, I used to steal Ransom’s credit card to buy some of those supplements you see in the infomercials. You know: with the testimonials and everything? People saying how good they work?”

“How well they work,” Steve corrects under his breath. “Those are expensive.”

“Hundred and fifty bucks plus shipping, every month,” Bucky confirms. “Well, at least until Ransom noticed it on his credit card statement.” He colors a little and admits, “I also tried those things they sell over the counter at the pharmacy. Those, erm, those things that you can take. That you stick up your—”

“I’m familiar,” Steve drawls. “So, you put multiple things in your body without knowing what was in them.”

“Well I figured they couldn’t sell ‘em on tv if it wasn’t safe,” Bucky defends. “And besides, everybody does it.”

“Not exactly winning me over, here, kid.”

“Look, you don’t understand!” he snaps. “You’re alpha. You don’t get it. Heats are stupid, they're not fun. They just get in everybody’s way, and these products help. They help quality of life. They help make it less of a problem.”

Steve holds back the actual growl that wants to come at hearing such a tragic pile of tripe. “Did you ever stop to wonder why it’s always your natural biology that gets labeled as the ‘problem’, hm? Always something to be fixed, rather than something you’re entitled to? Something you deserve to have accommodated?”

Bucky blinks a few times in a row, mouth working. “Well … no. That’s just how it is.”

“Oh is it?”

“It is if you want to make it anywhere in life. Get into a good school, get a good job, work your way up at some company.” He blithely rattles off the examples, speaking like this is all pre-determined truth, and Steve is the only idiot who hasn’t been clued in. “People won’t hire you if you need all that time off of work and stuff. You’ve got to make yourself as good as a beta employee, at least. Otherwise nobody’ll hire you.”

Steve nods solemnly. “Yeah, well that’s where I take issue. I think omega rights—true omega rights—demand that society value omegas for what they naturally are. And that means allowing them the space and time they need for their cycles, not treating it as something inconvenient, not expecting people to use a bunch of drugs to try and force themselves into some, some …” He makes a frustrated gesture. “Some employable box.”

“Well yeah, I guess. But—”

“Omegas deserve to have their contributions as mothers and homemakers valued, too,” Steve asserts, then narrows his eyes at Bucky when the kid rolls his eyes. “You scoff, but the omegas who consistently rank highest in self-reported life satisfaction are those who choose to take on domestic roles. The only thing career omegas consistently rank highest on is level of  antidepressant usage. It’s a trend we’ve seen increasing ever since the seventies.”

“Right,” Bucky snaps. “Back in the good old days when we didn’t have any rights.”

“That’s not true,” Steve says sternly. “Omegas had all the same rights as other designations, it was culture that was different. There was a place carved out in society for them. Omegas’ natural affinities were valued. Those who did work were able to find jobs that fit their lifestyles and needs. Now, employers expect you to change yourself for the job, just like you said.” He shakes his head sadly. “One could make the argument that that’s equality, but it sure as hell ain’t fair. Betas and alphas have society shaped to fit their needs, and omegas simply have to try and force themselves into difficult spaces just to get by. I don’t think it’s right that the way we do things is geared towards what alphas and betas naturally need, and nothing that’s naturally omega is accommodated for anymore. Do you?”

Bucky doesn’t answer, but his posture slumps with uncertainty the more he considers what's being said.

Steve softens his tone to something more gentle. “That’s why I think the erasure of gender roles is unhealthy, Buck. Not because I’m a sexist who hates omegas and doesn’t want them to be able to do anything, but because I think you guys deserve so much better. So much more.” He watches Bucky’s face, the growing doubt in his features, and figures it’s time to stop with the proselytizing. He's given the kid something to think on. That's good enough for now. It is bedtime, after all. “Just think on it a bit,” he advises kindly. “You’ve had a lot of experiences, but there’s still a lot for you to learn. Try and do it with an open mind, okay? You might come to see one or two things a little differently.”

Bucky grumbles unhappily, but Steve can tell when his point is getting through. Most students start to come around to considering the school's curricular viewpoint by the one week mark. After a week of constant offers to have his needs fulfilled—and constant refusal of those offers—it’s pretty obvious that Bucky is nearing the turning point. Steve decides to end this little talk on a positive note. He gives him one final pat on his legs. “Okay, Hon. Time for bed.” He stands up and observes the way that Bucky seems to physically stall, unable to quickly process Steve’s sudden departure. 

“You’re leaving?” he blurts.

Steve offers him a gentle smile. “Would you like for me to scent anything? Maybe a blanket or a pillow?” Right now there’s only a sheet and a single, thin blanket on the bed. He thumbs backward at the room’s cabinet of nesting supplies. “The nurse said you’re mid-cycle. The urge to nest must be waxing rather than waning at this point, yeah?”

Bucky seems surprised by the offer, but after a moment he nods shyly. “Maybe an extra blanket wouldn’t be so bad.”

Steve turns and goes to grab a blanket out of the cabinet and scent it, taking Bucky’s compliance as a significant win. “Good girl,” he murmurs, and is doubly pleased when Bucky makes no snippy remark at the gendered praise. He doesn’t face Bucky as he scents the top edge of the blanket with his wrist and then his neck. He doesn’t want to push his luck and make the boy so embarrassed that he’ll revert back to his pattern of disrespectful misbehavior. It’s always a balancing act, with new students, but once you get the right combination of domination, kindness, and familiarity? That's when things begin to smooth out.

Bucky takes the blanket with a bashful, “Thank you,” when Steve hands it over, and Steve gives him a quiet rumble of praise for being polite.

“You’re welcome, Honey.” Bucky moves like he’ll get under the blankets, but Steve stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “Hang on a sec. You forgetting something?” Bucky blinks vacantly up at him, and Steve can’t help but chuckle. “We don’t sleep naked, do we?” 

Bucky looks back down at himself, like he’d forgotten he was naked in the first place. “Oh.”

Steve fetches him a pair of underwear from the room’s dresser. The students’ nighttime briefs aren’t dissimilar to what they wear under their uniforms during the day, but they consist of one piece rather than two, and the padding’s a bit more … thorough, meant to help deter wandering hands at night. Steve finds himself unable to look away as Bucky puts them on, sliding them up his legs with shaky fingers and whimpering near subvocally when his leaking prick gets covered up by the padding. His hands fist the bedsheets at either side of his hips, and for a second his face gets red and his eyes go unfocused.

Oh Jesus. Steve grinds his teeth at the display, unhappy to feel his own cock pulsing insistently against the seam of his slacks. Bucky’s tortured, straining efforts to not touch himself are near-pornographic to watch, making that warm, sexual urge swirl up harder in Steve’s belly than before. He shifts in place and flexes his hands as he tries to think of something to counter the pulsing in his dick—picturing his grandparents fucking is his usual failsafe, in times like this. He doesn’t want his scent to grow so strong that it affects Bucky right now. Not when they’re ending the night on such a positive note. 

The thought of Nana and Pawpaw doing the nasty does the trick, and Steve retreats to the doorway. He hums in approval as he watches Bucky climb into bed and get settled. He nests only the barest bit, almost tentatively, tucking the scented end of the blanket up alongside his pillow and draping the rest of it over his body. He curls up on his side and nuzzles his cheek against the pillow. Steve waits with his hand poised to flip the light switch. “You have everything you need?” he checks, giving Bucky one final chance to be honest about his needs.

But he simply tucks his face into the scented blanket and closes his eyes. “Uh huh.” His still-damp hair is stark against the white pillowcase, and Steve’s heart gives a fond twinge at the sight.

It does dry curly.

“Okay,” he says quietly. He flicks the lights off, knowing that by tomorrow morning, he’ll have a punishable offense to address with the boy. “Goodnight, Bucky.”

“… Night, Steve.”

Despite the excellent performance of composure that he’s managed to maintain with Bucky for the past few hours, all that time with the omega really has taken its toll. Steve is relieved to get back and shut himself away in the confines of his office. It feels like a sanctuary right now. It’s a deep mental and physical relaxation that hits him as soon as he sinks into his desk chair and inhales the professionally filtered, pheromone-free air of the room. 

“Ahh," he sighs, rubbing at his temples. "God save the queen. Fuck."

Compared to other alphas, he’s got excellent control of his reactions and is able to mask a great deal (an invaluable skill when one works with hordes of hormonally-peaking teenagers), but the end of the school day always provides a bit of relief—today more than most.

He opens his laptop and leaves it to boot up while he goes over over to pour himself a drink. He pulls out one of the cork-coated lowballs that he keeps in the freezer (because he prefers his drinks on the rocks, but whether he likes it or not Peggy’s had an influence on him these past twenty years, and he knows it’s blasphemy to add ice to a 30 year old Scotch). He eyeballs a finger of the liquor—okay, maybe closer to two fingers—and brings it back to his desk to sniff it and swirl it around. 

It’s a vintage that one of Peggy’s relatives gifted them years ago, worth quite a bit of money apparently, and it’s been Steve’s one petty protest amongst the many bigger ones of his soon-to-be ex-wife. He’s only begun making use of it since their divorce proceedings intensified over the summer, with Peggy’s obstinance against fair division of assets reaching damningly selfish levels. Steve never thought of her as someone who’d go for the nerves in a divorce just for the hell of it, and it’s upsetting to see that nastier side exposed. It feels like all his good memories are slowly being tainted by it, made ugly and ruined, like paint thrown over a fine portrait of the woman he’d once admired. Steve’s not a heavy drinker, but he’s nearly made his way through the entire bottle these past few weeks.

At his desk, he peruses current events on his newsfeed and a few academic articles of interest, being sure to sip steadily despite his leanings as a teetotaler. He wants to feel a bit of a buzz by the time he dares to brave his inbox. The little icon tells him that he’s got dozens of unread emails waiting in there. Not unusual for a weekday, but there’s one from Peggy that he purposefully puts off for last. And surprisingly, there’s one email each from the personal accounts of both Tony Stark and Harlan Thrombey.

He clicks on Stark’s first, expecting the email to contain more demands for the accommodations he wants for the upcoming parents’ weekend. Sure enough, Stark doesn’t disappoint, asking Steve to please arrange for a 2-minute slot for one Ms. Pepper Potts to speak during that coming Sunday’s evening ball. It’s during said ball when the school has its traditional slew of scheduled, “spontaneous” rounds of toasts over betrothal announcements. Steve’s happy to agree to a slot for Ms. Potts, just grateful that it won’t be Stark himself making the speech. Thank god for small favors. 

Stark also has a footnote jotted in, as though it’s a nothing, requesting a black Rolls Royce Phantom to pick them up afterwards to take them to their hotel in Newcastle-upon-Tyne. In the distinct manner that Steve’s learned only multi-millionaires ever really have, Tony blithely throws out his specifications for the car’s interior temperature (73 degrees Fahrenheit, precisely), a fully-stocked bar, and a selection of snacks and juice boxes that sounds suspiciously catered to a certain omega's tastes.

Smirking and shaking his head, Steve spends a moment researching the costs of this additional, last-minute amenity. He tacks an extra two grand onto the price and shoots the email back with an inflated invoice that brings him no guilt. Academia is little better than a break-even industry, after all. And besides, Stark can afford it.

Normally, Steve would save any email of Peggy’s for last, but given his growing obsession with interest in Bucky’s case, he decides to save Thrombey’s email for last.

Peggy’s email is also very typical of what Steve’s come to expect from her: curt, concise, and infuriatingly presumptive.

📨Peggy: Asset Divisions Update

Steven, it reads, My solicitor will be in touch after this next weekend with an updated proposal for division of assets. I did not find your last offer acceptable. Mr. Jorgensen is out of the country on account of an emergency this week, which is the reason for the delay. I do apologize and hope you will understand. In the meantime, I look forward to enjoying a pleasant and uncompromised parents’ weekend with our two schools. I’ll be in touch soon, in regards to those preparations. Cordially, Peggy.

Steve sneers at the ‘cordially’. “More like cold as ice,” he grumbles, grabbing the glass of scotch to toss back the last few sips. Parents’ weekend is going to be hell, having to be in such constant proximity with her. 

Thrombey’s email is long and flowery, in the distinct manner that only novelists ever really have. He rambles on, bemoaning the state of his grandson for several long paragraphs before getting to the point. Finally, he lays out the issue, and it is a doozy:

📨Thrombey: Expedient Action Required

—has come to my attention that the boy has been engaging in a form of online prostitution. Something called only fans.”

Steve’s jaw drops as he feels the blood drain from his face. Oh no. Bucky wouldn’t … would he? Shit. He totally would. Steve’s eyes flick back to the email.

—can imagine my horror to find that for a monthly fee, subscribers have access to his nude photos. I hadn’t the stomach to look myself, but Ransom assures me it’s all him on the webpage. There are even videos, and Ransom says that James’ face is visible in some of the footage. His face! This is outrageous! 

“You’re telling me,” Steve mutters. 

Thankfully, the Academy’s structure seems to have put an end to his production. There’s been no new footage uploaded since the week before his enrollment. My lawyers are working on having the account erased, and I can only pray that nothing comes to light publicly before then.  Now more than ever, an intervention is required for my grandson. His eligibility for a good marriage will be out the window if word of this pornography spreads, his prospects ruined. I want you to put your full efforts into seeing him matched up with a suitable Alpha as soon as possible. I don’t care who it is, what nationality they are, if it’s a triad, if there’s no notable family name—nothing. All that matters is that you find him a decent mate with no record of mistreatment. Do be thorough in your searching, but do not drag your feet! I’m sure I needn’t explain how damaging this will be to my family, if word gets out.  I am counting on you to take expedient action, H. Thrombey

At the bottom of the email is a link. It’s to an OnlyFans page. Steve’s heart rate picks up and he hesitates for a long moment, knowing that he shouldn’t look. Harlan’s lawyers are handling it. 

But his morbid curiosity wins out, and he clicks on the link. It leads directly to Bucky’s personal page, and Steve experiences a very unpleasant combination of sensations: his dick filling with blood at the same time that his stomach turns from seeing the images that are on the page’s banners. It’s Bucky’s body, that’s for sure, with his face cleverly turned away or artfully clipped from the shots. Below the title page and summary are links to “Exclusive new hot videos!” with 3 second thumbnails of Bucky’s ass moving, his back arching, his hand moving over his—

Steve looks away from the computer screen, furious and aroused and mortified. “Goddammit, Bucky,” he hisses, angry that the kid has done something so inherently damaging—not just to his reputation like Harlan is thinking, but to himself, to his soul. Steve’s stomach churns something awful at knowing that this stuff is available for any creep with a credit card to purchase … and at his own reaction to even the barest glimpses of it. He peeks up again, this time reading the titles of the videos: 

“Hot O-on-O action!”

“Omega dominates Alpha Slut”

“Horny Teen Twink in Heat”

His jaw ticks angrily. What fucking awful, typical titles. He looks down at his cock, which is visibly pressing against the seam of his slacks. “Fuck,” he groans. He can’t jerk off to porn of Bucky. He can’t. It’d be beyond unethical. Even if the kid was his mate, Steve would still feel the moral obligation to—

Oh. Well there’s an idea. 

His brain stalls on the thought of him as Bucky’s mate, his Alpha, in charge of him and giving him what he needs … and taking what he wants. Mortifyingly, a growl builds up in his chest as he glances once more at the thumbnails of Bucky doing lurid things. The kid’s got such tight, smooth skin; such a perfect, pretty shape. Steve’s mind slips into editorial mode, imagining what it would be like if Bucky was his, the omega’s ass moving under his hips, his back arching in his bed, his quivering hands smacked away from his cocklet while Steve rails him from behi—

Jesus fucking Christ. Stop!

His hand is halfway to his pocket when he realizes that he’s reaching for his wallet, contemplating buying a subscription just so that he can see. Disgust floods his chest, extinguishing the growl, and he snaps out of it. He pushes away from the desk and stomps over to grab the bottle of Scotch and bring it back, dumping himself back in his desk chair and heedlessly pouring another fill. 

And so what? he thinks. Who cares if he finishes the whole fucking bottle? He might as fucking well. His wife, the woman who agreed to be his life partner, who placated him with endless promises of “one day” and then went ice cold and bitter and reneged on everything she’d ever claimed to want with him, is putting him through the wringer just for shits and giggles. And now come to find out, his newest pupil, a boy for whom he’s got way too much personal interest, is selling himself on the internet—For $9.99 a month?!!! The videos seem to cost extra on a pay-per-view basis, but even still, what the ever-loving fuck?!

Steve’s whole body stiffens as something else occurs to him: Harlan’s email said that Bucky’s face is visible in the videos. Bucky’s stepfather reported that to Harlan. Which means he's seen the videos. Which means … 

Steve’s jaw ticks as he glances back to the computer screen, to Bucky’s homepage and the free lurid teaser photos that don’t show his face. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he hisses, angry. That Drysdale guy had been a prick during the tour of the campus, and now Steve knows what a fucking pervert he is, too. Because the only way he could know that Bucky’s face is shown is if he bought the subscription and paid extra for the videos.

Steve closes out the browser window, not wanting to see any more of it. The warring disgust and temptation to be one of those creeps who pays money to view omegas degrade themselves is just too much. He yanks his wallet out of his back pocket and chucks it angrily at the couch, missing by a country mile. He takes a gulp of the Scotch, exhaling harshly at the burn as it goes down. “Fuck.”

Pornography for omegas carries a heavy social stigma—far beyond what any beta or alpha porn star would ever face, and deeper in the nature of its contempt and consequence. Omegas who do porn make big bucks, because they’re making an even bigger trade-off. Engaging in any sort of sex work virtually erases an omega's chance of mating. It hadn’t merely been upper crust snobbery in Harlan’s email, but common sense as well. People from all walks of life treat omega sex workers as an untouchable caste, damaged goods, not worthy of real relationships. 

It’s one of the few holdovers from the old days, even though porn isn’t what it once was. It’s easier to make than ever. Amateur is in. Omegas who would’ve once been exploited by large production companies now work from home, in control of their own content creation. More and more of them are choosing get rich quick schemes over mating, turning to platforms like OnlyFans and giving away their most sacred gifts to any scum bucket with a credit card. Ruining their lives. 

Steve loosens his tie and takes another gulp of liquor before setting the glass down heavily. His hands go resolutely back to his laptop with what he knows he has to do. It sickens him that he even has to do it in the first place. He considers himself a man of morals, a man who lives by his word. But in this one thing, he’s let himself become a hypocrite. He navigates to his internet bookmarks and opens the subfolder marked “Meditations.” It’s his porn stash. Favorite videos he’s saved for lonely nights. Nothing too wild, but virtually all of it involves omegas. Watching A/o porn has been his guilty pleasure for … a while.

He used to avoid it on principle, but these past few years have been different, his desires harder to ignore, the urge to bond, mate, and breed pooling in the back of his brain and the pit of his belly, winding him tight with a tension that he doesn’t like. At first, he’d just chalked it up to being a horny bastard, but that wasn’t it. The unrelenting tension came with a hollow, forlorn ache that refused to go away. Even after a good jerk off session imagining himself in one of those videos, it never went away for long. It’d taken Steve a long time to figure out what that ache really was. For the first time in his life, he felt unfulfilled. 

He only hesitates a second before right clicking on the folder and pressing delete, a grim sense of rightness settling over him at the action. He should’ve done it long ago. He shouldn’t have compromised his values in the first place. Of course he’d made all sorts of excuses for it: the porn was amateur, it was self-made, the omegas were getting off and enjoying themselves, he wasn’t paying for it, maybe the Alphas in the videos were actually their mates.

And then of course, the lamest excuse of all: that he deserved to watch it, because his erstwhile wife was ruining everything. 

He closes out the browser window and frowns at his reflection on the screen. “Lame,” he mutters. He opens Harlan’s email back up and begins drafting a response, assuring the man that he has nothing to worry about, that Steve will find Bucky a suitable match in no time.

He uses one of the school’s proprietary databases that tracks eligible bachelors, typing in search parameters for sex and nationality (any), net worth (≥ €2,000,000) and age (25-45). Alphas live longer than other designations, so he isn’t worried about being too picky on the age range. Just so long as it isn’t some young sap who doesn’t know what the hell they’re doing. Bucky needs a firm hand and lots of attention. He needs an Alpha who can handle him with gentle dominance, who’ll know when to be indulgent and when to put their foot down.

Steve can’t say why he picks €2m to be the cutoff point for a prospective Alpha’s net worth. Maybe he likes the idea of Bucky being given an easy, comfortable life. And if he sets the search results to list from lowest to highest net worth, well … maybe it’s because he doesn’t like the idea of Bucky being smothered by ludicrous levels of wealth (like Parker’s undoubtedly about to be). 

The list of possibilities starts with a landowner in rural Scotland, and ends with an Israeli shipping magnate based out of Cairo. Steve scrolls through the profiles, dismissing anyone he deems unworthy of being Bucky’s mate. Too ugly, too ugly, too fat, too old, too many divorces, too ugly, too ugly. Nobody seems good enough. Steve finds flaws in every profile he sees. And underneath it all, the thought remains: he could be Bucky’s mate.

He shakes his head like he can rattle the idea loose, thinking: don’t be stupid, Rogers. He’s the headmaster here. Taking a student as a mate would be a violation of his professional duties. Not illegal, hell, not even technically against the rules, but certainly embarrassing, perhaps bordering on … unseemly. Parents entrust him with their omega sons to train them up and secure good matches for them, not to mate them himself. 

… But Harlan’s email had specifically said that nothing else mattered. Not race, nor gender, nor pedigree. ‘All that matters is that you find him a decent mate with no record of mistreatment’.

All Steve can think about is how that could be him. He could be Bucky’s Alpha. He could take care of him, provide for him, have a family with him. Pieces of an imaginary life layer up in his mind like paper mâché, one on top of the other, slowly congealing into a picture that makes the yearning in his gut that much worse. He imagines Bucky as his omega, living in the Pendergast Street cottage together, a scar on Bucky’s neck; holing up in the house’s nesting closet with him each month, fucking him through his heats, getting him pregnant, watching him give birth and nurse their baby inside a bundle of blankets that have Steve’s scent on them.

He’s always wanted kids. Peggy had, too, or so she said. They’d talked about it infrequently, but they had talked about it. How one day they’d mate an omega and live a blissful family life, have a traditional triad marriage. But that was the problem: they’d only ever talked about it. And on the rare occasion when they had, Steve was always the one to bring the topic up. He hadn’t realized that, hadn’t realized how often Peggy’s only input wound up being an obfuscating ‘one day’. 

The day when she finally nutted up and said that she’d changed her mind, that she didn’t want an omega mate in their marriage, didn’t want babies, was the day Steve finally uttered the word that’d been sitting on the back of his tongue for months: “Divorce.”

He still wants to have that intimacy with an omega: bonding them, sharing their heats, getting them pregnant and watching them grow, seeing his child in their arms. He thinks of Bucky in that role, imagines how the boy would take to it, what their first time would be like, if he’d instinctually know to go ass up in the bed or if he’d need to fight it a little, have his alpha toss him around and hold him down before he could accept a knot. If he’d get quiet right before coming, or shriek and thrash and dissolve into agonized tears.

“Fuck,” Steve groans, letting his hand slide over the top of his thigh and into the crease of his groin. He palms himself there, gripping his dick and giving a few short tugs from over the material of his slacks. He looks down and stares at the hard line his boner makes, imagining Bucky being here and seeing it, putting his hand there, how much smaller it’d be than Steve’s, how much less experienced. God, Steve wants to guide him through that, teach him how to touch a man, watch the nervousness and arousal play out on his face as he learns how to please an alpha for the first time. 

“Fuck, Honey,” he breathes, thinking about the little noises Bucky would make, the little protests and growls, and the slick that would drip down his thighs and betray him. Steve wonders how the kid touches himself, thinks back to that first day in his office, when he’d asked him how he liked to make himself come. Bucky hadn’t gotten around to answering before he’d lost control of his body, wetting up his underwear in submissive release and going a fascinated shade of red once Steve cooed at him over it. 

He’s never had a student release like that before. Not that easily. And he’s just so fucking pretty, even his anger is pretty. Steve grits his teeth at how he can feel his self restraint slipping. He thinks of Harlen’s email: find him a mate, anyone will do. Well if anyone will do, then why the fuck shouldn’t he put himself in the running?

Bucky is low hanging fruit, so fucking ripe for the picking, and Steve just knows he could get him to bend so beautifully with only a little bit of tender care. He could have him happy and content in no time, releasing at the barest show of dominance, just like before. He can still hear that warbling, humiliated whimper that came right after Bucky wet for him, the way his big, confused eyes had looked to Steve for help … 

“Goddammit.” He hastily undoes his belt and fly. He shoves his pants and underwear down to free his dick, wrapping a hand around himself and squeezing tightly at the base. His knot is already dark and aching, halfway to being erect after less than a minute of touching himself. He wrings his fist up under the head, forcing the skin over the tip and jacking off with it, guts coiling tighter at the tiny, wet sounds it makes. “Shit, shit, shit.”

He takes his hand off, not wanting to come too fast. He slumps back in the desk chair for a moment, panting, and remembers two things at almost the exact same second: He needs to check the surveillance in Bucky’s room, and he’s got a pocket masturbator in his desk drawer. Well, fuck.

He all but lunges for the drawer, yanking it open and cursing when he sees it. He grabs the toy and holds it to the tip of his cock, moving his hips to push the head through in tiny, teasing little pulses. Oh god, it feels amazing. He pulls it off and reaches for his laptop, opening the school’s surveillance mainframe and navigating to the dormitory views. He clicks on the camera for Bucky’s bedroom and toggles the night vision to on. At first it doesn’t look like much is happening, but then he catches the slight movement of Bucky’s body beneath the blanket … and he moans all over again.

“You little fuck,” he breathes, grabbing the masturbator to slide it all the way over his dick. “Ughn.”

Bucky’s touching himself from underneath the blankets. He’s lying in the same position that Steve left him in, only now his eyes are clenched shut tight and he’s panting open-mouthed into the pillow, his one shoulder angled in such a way as to suggest that he’s got his hand reached behind him. His arm moves in tiny, barely-there pulses. Steve realizes that, unless Bucky’s got the longest fingers known to mankind, he’s using a toy on himself back there. 

“Nnh.” He squeezes the silicon sleeve over his cock, dragging it up and down in time with the motions of Bucky’s shoulder, imagining that it’s Bucky he’s feeling around his cock, imagining that Bucky’s feeling him.  “Naughty boy,” he grunts through a grin. He knew Bucky would be jerking off once left alone, but this is even better. Steve regrets not watching the feed from the moment he left, as he’d love to know just what the toy looks like, and where Bucky was hiding it. Somewhere in his luggage, obviously. New students are always searched when they arrive, but clearly the boy managed to get something past bag check. Steve almost feels admiration for the sneaky little shit. 

He pushes the unmute button and listens to the audio. At first it’s just the quiet rustling of fabric on fabric, the stirring of Bucky’s body against the sheets as he pleasures himself, but then a tiny, breathy moan breaks through, and then another. Steve’s hips flex into his stroking hand. “Oh, Honey.”

Bucky’s face is pinched and he’s biting his lip—probably trying to keep quiet. The notion makes Steve smirk. Omegas are very vocal in their sexual pleasure, prone to keening and squealing and making all sorts of warbling, debased noises when they’re feeling good. It must be the most exquisite torture for Bucky to try and stay silent like this as he fucks himself on whatever toy he’s managed to sneak in. Steve watches it with a tightening belly and aching balls, twisting the rubber sleeve over himself again and again, bumping down hard against his knot on every stroke. “Fffuck.”

In the frame, Bucky’s voice catches on a single, high pitched noise as he comes, his body going rigid under the sheets and his hips pulsing harder than before. He whimpers and turns his face further into the pillow to muffle it, but Steve is already right there too, jerking himself hard and fast with the sleeve until he shouts and starts to shoot. His knot blows inside of the rubber, which isn’t as good as the real thing, but still feels fucking amazing. He keeps his dick fully buried and squeezes the toy hard over his knot, milking himself until his hand cramps and he lets go. The toy pops off his cock and falls to the floor, and Steve goes boneless in his chair as he shivers through the long wave of his orgasm. 

When it’s finally over and he looks back at the computer screen, it’s to see Bucky carefully rearranging himself under the blankets. Whatever it was that he’d used to fuck himself, he seems to be keeping it hidden between the mattress and the room’s wall. Steve plays idly with his knot while he waits for it to go down, deciding that the kid gloves need to come off now. It’s time Bucky learned just what it means to be taken in hand by an Alpha. And with the development of the online porn and Harlan’s request, there’s no longer need or time to play things slow and easy.

Tomorrow, Steve’ll finally do what he should’ve done from the get-go, what he’s been wanting to do ever since Bucky trounced into his office with a bad attitude and false bravado. From here on out, he’s going to take proper care of that boy. Starting tomorrow, he’s going to handle Bucky’s education himself. And if things progress from there? Well, Harlan said anyone will do.

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[hongssimi]

dance class // osaki shotaro

ᝰ synopsis .ᐟ getting into a dance class again wasn’t something on your bingo card of the year. neither did you expect the random dance class you signed up for in a japanese dance academy, while on your trip to japan, to be a couple dance class. but it wasn’t as bad as you thought, you got to know osaki shotaro. (plus lots of denial.)

ᝰ pairing .ᐟ dancer!shotaro x fem!reader

ᝰ genre .ᐟ suggestive // written

ᝰ word count .ᐟ 2.6k+

ᝰ warning .ᐟ mentions of boners, grinding, praise kink, kissing, and sex

ᝰ author's note .ᐟ happy birthday to my sho-kun!! liked him since he turned 20 and my man is now 24😭😭 i watched an old shotaro-focused fancam i had in my gallery and missed seeing him dancing so idea got churned out from the brain factory T^T totally not inspired by the fact that he was once a student under expg studio and that one pre-debut couple dance stage,,,

the last time you went to a dance class was in middle school, during your school break. ever since you quit from the school dance club, you just never went back to dancing. it wasn’t that you fell out of love with dance, you just had other things you were more interested in learning, like playing musical instruments, and art in the form of drawings and paintings.

you still took up dance opportunities in school, like when your middle school teacher asked you and your schoolmates to come up with a k-pop dance cover piece for your school exchange trip to a korean middle school – though that never happened due to rising politics that prevented the whole trip from proceeding. but here you were, in japan, signing up for a dance class at the top japanese dance academy recommended by your friend.

the academy was a well-known dance academy that produced a lot of japanese idols – or so you were told by your friend. you didn’t know much about japanese idols, as you only remembered the past where you were introduced to some of them by a classmate who loved j-pop. the introduction left a distasteful feeling for you as it seemed like they had mediocre dances and relied severely on looks to sell, which you didn’t appreciate as a dance lover. at least k-pop had impactful and fresh choreographies, along with the looks. you preferred k-pop dances, remembering your days taking dance classes at 1MILLION years ago, even attending some classes with k-pop idols like A.C.E and The Boyz before they became famous.

impulsively going to a dance class in japan was an opportunity to learn more about the japanese dance scene but you didn't realise the problem you had until you were signing the registration form. you couldn’t read japanese. understanding conversational japanese was one thing, but trying to figure out hiragana, katakana and kanji all at once was a brain overload for you. you even forgot the existence of translation apps. that’s how you ended up in a couple’s dance class. you couldn’t read japanese well, and accidentally signed up for the wrong class. you just saw ‘プ’, read as ‘pu’ in japanese, and assumed it was ‘hip-hop’. you didn’t even fathom for it to mean couple instead of hip-hop.

it’s just a dance class anyways, not a big deal.

entering the dance class 30 minutes before it started, you had concerns whether you were going to have someone to partner with after belatedly realising your class was one to be danced in pairs. everyone seemed to be stretching in pairs while you were the only one alone. you couldn’t find anyone that you could pair up with, even as the dance class started.

“anyone doesn’t have a pair?” your dance instructors, who introduced themselves as nakamura and nana, asked in japanese.

good thing i took conversational japanese classes in high school and watched anime.

you were halfway raising your hand, when a guy with really cool fashion, carrying a huge bag strutted into the dance room like he was on a runway. what does he even have in his bag that it’s so huge?

“oh, shotaro-kun! everyone else is already paired up, so you’re pairing up with miss black shorts over there,” nana sensei told shotaro, the cool-fashioned guy, as he nodded and headed towards you after chucking his bag to one of the bag areas.

“osaki shotaro,” he introduced himself, holding out a hand for a handshake.

“i’m y/n,” you took his hand in yours, which felt warm against your cold hands.

“y/n. pretty name for a pretty girl. cold hands though.”

of course your hands were cold, you’d been sitting in an air-conditioned building for forty five minutes. shotaro sat down next to you, with your hands still held together, before he let go completely to sit comfortably. nakamura sensei and nana sensei were asking the front of the class to make some space, as they were about to give a demonstration of the class' choreography.

“i’ve never seen you before, new here?” shotaro initiated small talk while the dance instructors were preparing the music.

“yeah. i’m actually here in japan on holiday so i’m just here for this class. haven’t gone to a dance class in seven years, though.”

“nice, i’m a regular at this academy,” you nodded, not really interested to know despite oversharing yourself, because you came to dance, not to flirt.

yeah, right.. joining a couple’s dance class, alone? paired up with a stranger? with that dance choreography?

you were gobsmacked. flabbergasted, even. the dance routine that nakamura sensei and nana sensei just showed to the class was very sensual, sexual and touchy. and i’m about to do that with a complete stranger? you knew that dance was an art form, which meant that sometimes, being intimate was unavoidable. but that didn’t mean you were comfortable with it. simply put, you were someone described as more ‘conservative’. even in relationships, you were one to prefer getting to know the other party better for a few months before proceeding to other steps like kissing and having sex. maybe that was why you had few relationships – and most of them, a fail.

“relax, y/n, i won’t eat you up,” shotaro smiled sweetly, snapping you out of your trance.

“come on! get up, let’s learn the dance.”

the first part of learning the dance routine went smoothly without any mishaps. you knew it was because there wasn't any crazily intimate dance steps unlike the second part of the routine, where the skinship started. the first move of the next dance step required you to go behind shotaro and slide your hands from his chest to right around his belly button.

“go ahead, it’s fine.”

shotaro assured you that you could touch him, showing the sweet smile he gave you before the both of you started dancing. he could tell you weren’t exactly comfortable with touching complete strangers. he was an experienced dancer who could tell the intimacy levels his dance partners were comfortable with, and you were especially obvious with how much you didn’t like touching strangers. since the handshake with you earlier, he felt the way you very obviously wanted to let go while he was holding your hands tight as he sat down, without thinking much of the interaction. you had to admit however, that shotaro had a good body. he was lean but bulked, and his hard rock abs were reminiscent of the olden day washboard.

the next dance step required you to stand in front of him, facing away from the mirror and dropping down to the floor with your hands sliding down to his hipline before getting up. he had a sexy smile on his face, and you were unable to tell if he was flirting or doing facial expressions to match the dance. somehow, you ended up face-to-face with a bulge in shotaro’s grey sweatpants. he had a boner.

“sorry about nature’s work. you know, sexual dances and hormones,” he apologised as you got up to do the next dance move, following nana sensei.

the both of you were doomed. the third part of the dance involved grinding. how were you, a ‘conservative’ girl who didn't like skinship, supposed to do that, with a guy who was currently having a boner in his pants?

“this grinding means nothing. i know you have a boner but we’re being professional here,” shotaro nodded, completely understanding.

shotaro had no idea why he was acting the way he was. normally, he’d be perfectly fine dancing with the opposite gender. he’d even dance a sexier couple’s choreography than nakamura sensei and nana sensei’s current routine. so why was he acting like a complete teenager, at his big age of twenty four years old? he knew he was asking a dumb question. you were his type. you were pretty, had long hair that went below your shoulders, and his favourite of all, you were significantly shorter than him. he had a thing for his significant other being shorter, and you were 160cm, the perfect height for a man like him.

“baby, you’re so good for seven years, no class.”

baby?! what is this guy on about? can’t blame him though, i am kinda hot.

you just rolled your eyes as you brushed off his comment and continued learning the dance from the dance instructors. if shotaro could read your thoughts, he’d probably have completely fallen for you. he loved when a girl was confident about herself. but he’d never say that with his own mouth for your confident ass to hear. except maybe, if he was in bed with you.

“alright, that’s the whole routine, let’s go through the last part once more, and then we’ll do it from the start,” nakamura sensei voiced to the whole class.

“we’ll pick the top five couples to film a dance video, alright? do your best,” nana sensei added on.

although you hadn’t taken dance classes in years, you were an achiever. whether it was your school grades, a game in an arcade, or even a stupid dare, you wanted to be the best. you liked being the best, and loved when people praised or congratulated you for your hard work to get where you wanted to be. or maybe i just have a praise kink.

“take this seriously, osaki,” you called out to your dance partner who was wearing a tight fitting black shirt and grey sweatpants.

“oh? no honorifics from you, y/n? sexy,” he teased you knowing you were going to be annoyed, just like how you rolled your eyes earlier when he called you baby.

the both of you met around two and a half hours ago, but shotaro had you all figured out.

the music played from the top, “one, and two, and three, and four, and,” nakamura sensei signalled the counts for the class to start dancing the whole choreography.

shotaro was dancing well, having the perfect expressions and hitting all the right angles. you, on the other hand, flexibly matched well to his energy, dancing as if it wasn’t the first time you met. you took quick glances at the instructors, seeing an impressed face on nana sensei’s face. nakamura sensei was throwing out compliments to all the pairs in the class, but he went silent at your pair, with only a “woah” coming out his mouth. you knew you were going to be one of the chosen five. you were great, and so was osaki shotaro, the man you were dancing with.

“... and the last pair is shotaro and his girl!” nakamura sensei announced to the class.

you jumped in joy and unknowingly hugged shotaro tightly. you loved winning. so much as you didn’t realise nakamura sensei had called you shotaro’s girl. you didn’t even realise he did that on purpose, because he saw how much differently shotaro acted than usual. nakamura sensei knew shotaro well, being his regular student – and his wife, nana sensei’s cousin. originally osaki nana, now nakamura nana. but you didn’t have to know that.

“so, you agree with nakamura sensei that you’re my girl?” he was truly an annoyance, but a cute, sexy one.

you realised what you were doing with him and let go, apologising with the excuse that you were just caught up in the moment. you didn’t realise how much more comfortable you got with him, within the span of two and a half hours. the intimate choreography helped shotaro get closer to you.

after the fourth pair finished recording their dance, you and shotaro both got up. it was your pair performing next. you had to do well. the video was going to be on the dance academy’s youtube channel, according to what shotaro told you. it had to be good. shotaro took your hand in his, pulling you along to the center of the practice room. with the same hand, he somewhat patted the back of your hand that he was holding, as if to reassure you that all would be fine and to just trust him when dancing. the whole time, you had unknowingly not even pulled away or rejected his hand.

unlike the other pairs, the room was completely silent when the two of you performed. everyone in the room felt the sexual tension between you and shotaro. they felt the true sexiness of the choreography, and that it was somewhat similar with nakamura sensei and nana sensei’s demonstration hours earlier.

it was like you two were actual lovers, hungry and lusting for each other. it didn’t help that your pair was wearing matching outfits — your fitting grey crop top and black shorts, contrasting shotaro’s fitting black shirt and grey sweatpants — that made the both of you look more like an actual couple. the looks shotaro was giving you as the both of you performed — sexy with his clicking of the tongue, lustful with his tongue teasing, eyes not leaving your ass every time you were in front of him — was making you ever more confident with your moves.

the last move was resemblant of a couple kissing, as the male – in this case, shotaro, looks to the audience like a predator who caught his prey. but you, being too into the choreography, had kissed him on the lips. this was not like you at all. shotaro, on the contrary, remained professional even as you kissed him, giving a fierce stare towards the camera as what k-pop idols would call ‘ending fairy’. everyone erupted in applause while having their mouth agape. the performance you and shotaro did left everyone breathless.

“and.. cut!” nakamura sensei called out when their cameraman who came in before the recording signalled him.

“oh shit,” you pulled back, realising you kissed shotaro.

what did i just do?! who is this?! this isn’t the y/n that i know?

“it’s okay baby, you did well.”

his compliment made you smile. shotaro was getting too comfortable calling you baby for someone he just met three hours ago. you didn’t do anything about it either, seemingly as if you were fine with the pet name. maybe you did fall in love with him within a three hour class. he dragged you along with him by your waist, his arm sitting comfortably on your behind, to sit back down for the class debrief.

nakamura sensei and nana sensei gave a speech of thanks to everyone for attending the lesson and giving it their all for a successful session, before dismissing the class. he was about to talk to you, when nakamura sensei called him to discuss about something that you couldn’t understand the meaning of. (he was trying to get shotaro's opinions on a surprise date planned for nana sensei. rightfully so, since shotaro grew up with nana sensei – the one who got him into dancing.)

finishing the talk with nakamura sensei, he ignored his big bag and walked directly towards you instead. you were taking your own sweet time to pack your bags before leaving the dance room. not because you were secretly waiting for him, or curious about what he was going to ask before being interrupted, you convinced yourself. you were exhausted after the intense dance class.

“baby, can i have your instagram?”

he knew not to cross boundaries too fast (even though you crossed it first by kissing him earlier), and just asked for your instagram username. thank god, because it would have been dumb of him to ask for your LINE account, knowing you weren’t even living in japan, which means you likely didn’t even use LINE.

“i’ll send you a message, baby”

little did you know, you were soon going to gain a long-distance boyfriend – one that you were going to meet every night after his dance classes for the rest of your japan trip. you didn't know what was it about shotaro, that made you do things you would have never done otherwise. but what the both of you planned to do after your japan trip, was a problem for the future you and the man called osaki shotaro.

i mean, i already kissed him! whether i brought him back to the hotel for something more or not.. wouldn’t be such an issue, would it?

✶⋆.˚꩜ AFTERTHOUGHTS .ᐟ˙⋆✶ writing this for like three hours in and out while listening to a whole bunch of local songs (i think? i don’t even know most local artists) with the simp and longing theme was crazy… i did not know i had it in me to do this?? took me forever to proofread though, hope you enjoyed! likes and reblogs are appreciated :)

✶⋆.˚꩜ PERMANENT RII7E TAGLIST .ᐟ˙⋆✶ @seokiebin @lcvehee @taroddori

do not repost works © hongssimi

[vampkaashis-wife]

Osamu’s latest fidgety habit is twisting his wedding band around his finger - an expensive piece of jewelry he bought for himself alongside a matching piece for you. He still can’t believe it. The simple band of metal is a testament to a life he spent years building. While he would never call it perfect, he’s fairly certain that he would do it the same if he ever had the chance.

Even with the Olympics several years behind him, he sometimes thinks about what it would be like, playing on the global stage with Atsumu. He thinks about what it would be like if he had joined MSBY too, or if he’d joined the Adlers. He wonders if he’d choose to play with Sunarin or Aran instead. 

Today, though, he’s thinking about a different possibility. 

The possibility of you saying no to his marriage proposal and walking away entirely. 

It was a very near thing, he remembers. He remembers staring at the wall, day after day, the reflections of the ring scattered along the walls. Disappearing when he closed the box again. 

“Babe?” he calls into the kitchen where you’re doing dishes. The TV is on in the living room, and you glance up every now and then to keep up with the plot, yelling What happened? every time a commotion occurs and you missed it. He never knows why you do this. He said he could wait until all chores were done to start the movie, but you insist. 

“What? Did I miss something?” you call, both soapy hands busy with a pot. Your sleeves are slipping down your arms again, and Osamu pauses the movie. “Samu, no! Don’t pause it.”

He laughs. “Your sleeves,” he says simply, coming up behind you to pull them back up your arms. The motion is punctuated with a kiss to your cheek. “Are you happy?”

“You know I hate doing dishes.”

“And yet, you do them anyway.”

“Would you rather I create a beacon for the roaches? That’s unsanitary. I need to call whoever does the inspections at the shop; clearly, we’re all missing something here.”

The shop. You say it so simply, as if Onigiri Miya isn’t one of the biggest parts of your lives now and for the last few years. “You’re the roach,” he says. “Can’t get rid of you if I tried.”

“Don’t lie, Samu. You wouldn’t ever try to get rid of me, therefore, I cannot possibly be a roach.” After a pause, you add, “And Akaashi-san likes me, so I also can’t be a roach. He hates those. Now get off me, you’re in the way.”

He knows you’ve missed the question, but he’s sure he knows the answer all the same. A year ago, you shared a kitchen in tense silence, a fundamental unhappiness permeating the air. A year ago, you tried to throw all this away - through no fault of your own. It had been an awful time for you both as you transitioned out of student life and into the next thing, and yet…

“Babe?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

In quick motions, you put up the final bowl you washed, rinsing around the sink before dangling your wet hands in it to keep the floor dry. You twist a little to look at the man next to you. “I know. I love you too.”

Before he can say anything even more pathetic and lovestruck, your phone rings. Shaking your hands off, you locate your phone. Samu watches you frown before drying your hands and picking it up. He knows who it is before you even say it. “Hey, Dad.” 

There it is, another one of the winds you always summon. They’re less of a hurricane than they used to be, though. More of a strong beach wind. He finishes cleaning up the kitchen while you’re on the phone, although there’s not much left to clean. 

He’s proud of you, he thinks. Proud of himself, too, but mostly of you. The first year of marriage isn’t easy, but after planning and executing such a large scale event with and emotionally drained you and your tense family, he thinks you’ll be alright. You smile more now, he realizes. You have more to say about, well, everything. 

Then his phone rings. Atsumu. “What do you want?” he calmly asks his phone. 

Atsumu immediately starts chattering into his phone. It’s hard to hear him over the crowd in the background. “Oi! Pick me up.”

“Where? Why?”

“Afterparty after we beat EJP. Sunarin forgot about me and went home first.”

“Shitty of him.”

“Yeah, well. He’s a shithead.” 

“Couldn’t you ask someone else?”

“Samu!” he whines in a truly atrocious voice. Osamu pinches the bridge of his nose as his twin keeps talking. “You hate me!”

“I don’t hate you.” Osamu sighs. “I’m not anywhere near Osaka, idiot. I wouldn’t be able to make it there for a few hours. I don’t want you to wait that long, not if you’re drunk enough to be calling for a ride home.”

A pause.

“Oh yeah. I meant to call Omi. I’m not drunk, by the way.”

“How do you make that mistake and not notice? You literally said my name.”

“I never claimed to be smart.”

“No one would believe you if you did.”

Another pause. 

“Fuck you!” 

“That’s the best thing you could come up with?” Osamu knows his brother can hear the raised eyebrows, even at this distance. “Call literally anyone else; I’m off duty.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means that after dinner is Wife Time, and you’ve lost priority.”

“Piece of shit,” Atsumu mutters. Soon after though, he says in a voice too soft to be anything but loving, “Samu? I’m proud of you. You’re not making it easy for me to be the happier of us.”

For a moment, Osamu feels tears prickling behind his eyes. He blinks them away, instead watching you scribble something down, phone pressed between your shoulder and ear. Such a simple thing, but everything he’s ever wanted. “Thanks, Atsumu.”

[sparkypantaloons]

School Gates

Sooo Bruce may have forgotten four year old Tim was starting school today. But that's okay, five year old Jason has many, many solutions to that problem...

(Part of my baby-Bat AU here on AO3)

Bruce is stressed. Next level stressed. And it’s all his own stupid fault.

“I did leave a reminder with Alex at the office,” Alfred says dryly, “And on your desk in the study, and on your phone and told you to your face last week.” The older man looks deeply unimpressed. “Several times, in fact. And before you say anything,” He adds, as Bruce opens his mouth to respond. “The agreement was boys first, bats second.”

Bruce tries his utmost not to scowl. He ends up grimacing instead. “I just feel like you could be a little more helpful with the school uniform situation.”

As if on cue, Jason barges into Tim’s room, shoving past Alfred with an enormous pair of scissors clutched in his hands. “Oh my god.” Bruce breathes, stomach swooping in alarm. Where did Jason even get these from?

“Let’s just cut the sleeves off?” Jason suggests unhelpfully, not quite dodging quickly enough, as Bruce lunges for the scissors. He grunts as he tries to escape Bruce’s desperate grab for the offending blades. “Otherwise—unh—Bruce! No— we’ll be—ugh!— late.”

Tim flaps his arms, the sleeves of Jason’s knitted school sweater flapping with them. “Too big.” He says, and he drops his arms to his side with a small sigh. The sweater reaches his knees, the sleeves almost the floor.

“I did my time sorting school uniform out, if you recall, Master Bruce,” Alfred says smugly, (and Bruce is sure he can see a smirk beneath his moustache). “And given that I wash and iron all of the uniforms in the house,” he gives Bruce a pointed look. “I think I’m being more than helpful.”

He wanders out of Tim’s bedroom, leaving Bruce holding the scissors in one hand, and Jason by the ankle in the other.

Jason looks up at Bruce’s face from where he dangles. “What about the sweater you shrinked when Alfred was in the spa?” He asks, as though upside-down conversations are completely the norm. “That might fit?”

“Why don’t we just leave him behind?” Dick scowls from the doorway. “It’s not like he was in school last week, who cares if he’s there this week.”

“Be nice, Dickie.” Bruce warns, setting Jason back down on his feet. “School is important, remember? And besides, Tim wants to go, don’t you Timmy?”

Tim, who is trying to pick his nose through the sweater sleeve, doesn’t answer.

It’s not that Bruce forgot that Tim was starting school this week, clearly, or that he forgot Tim would need a school uniform to start school this week, it’s just that… look, he’s been busy, okay? And it’s not like he planned on an extra kid, it just kind of… happened? Obviously, he knew Tim was starting school, he’d paid the tuition fees himself! And it’s not that he’d forgotten Tim would need a uniform either. He’s not a moron. He just… didn’t realise all of that would be happening today.

It didn’t help that it was the middle of the semester and there were no helpful uniform reminders being sent every other week (given Tim had only come to Bruce a few weeks ago), nor did it help that none of the uniforms Dick and Jason had fit Tim (given Tim was so small for his age), and it especially didn’t help that Bruce had been up until 4am fighting some Killer-Croc wannabe calling himself ‘Danger Gator’.

All in all, Bruce wasn’t proud of himself, but frankly, at this stage of the morning, he didn’t see what other option he had.

“Boys.” He says seriously. “I need you to stay here for five minutes. You are not to leave this room, understand?”

Jason shrugs in agreement, and Tim is still too busy trying to get a finger up his nose when his hands have disappeared down such long sleeves, but Dick is furious.

“Where are you going now?" He hisses. "We’re going to be late as it is?”

“Dickie—“

“I told you we should just leave him here!”

Bruce doesn’t have time for this argument again. “Just stay here.” He says, hoping it comes off firm and authorative, but fairly certain it just sounds like he’s begging the seven year old. Then he scurries from Tim’s room, closing the door behind him.

“Superman?” He half whispers, not trying to hide the desperation in his voice. “Kal, if you can hear me, I’ve got an emergency at the Manor, the door is—” There’s a great whoosh of air and Superman appears before him, “—open.”

“What is it, Bruce? Are you okay? Lord, you look awful, what happened?” Clark says all in one rush, warm hand on Bruce’s shoulder, face full of concern.

Bruce is too tired to feel offended by the suggestion he looks awful, he’s pretty sure he’s still got drain-juice in his hair anyway. “I forgot to get Tim a school uniform.” He says, without pretence.

“You— huh?” Superman blinks politely.

“Tim. My son. Uniform. He starts school today. I need you to fly to Europe and grab me one. Probably the UK is the best bet, the stores will be open there.”

Superman blinks again. “Excuse me?”

“Clark!” Bruce snaps. “This is an emergency! I can’t send him to school without a uniform!”

Realisation slowly dawns on Superman’s face, a smug, knowing look begins to form. “Are you telling me,” He asks lightly, smirk growing with every second “Mr. I-have-a-contingency-for-every-possible-eventuality-including-sharks, wasn’t organised enough to do his back to school shopping?”

“Kal.” Bruce begins dangerously.

“Diana is going to love this.” The Kryptonian says gleefully.

“Kal!” Bruce says again, more loudly this time. “Please. I am not above begging. We have to be out the door in—” he checks his watch, “— five minutes ago! Please! Go! I will owe you one.”

Clark literally rubs his hands together with glee. “Yes, you will!” And he disappears with another whoosh. 90 seconds later, Bruce has a brand new uniform in his hands and an appointment slip for an interview with the Daily Planet’s new ‘Lifestyle’ section.

“Thanks Clark, you’re the worst.” He mumbles to himself, and heads back into Tim’s room.

“Ta-da!!” Jason says loudly as Bruce opens the door. He’s holding his hands out at Tim who is in the same ridiculously over-large sweater, but is now sporting an insane new haircut. “Remember you said Tim was meant to get haircut before school?” Jason asks, waving the safety scissors from Tim’s arts and crafts box around. “Now he’s all sorted!”

“Oh my god.” Bruce says. And he wonders if it’d be okay to lie down and cry and in front of his children.

“You don’t like?” Tim asks, him, running a hand over the side of his head, where the hair is cut so short it sticks up on end in tufts.

“No, it— it looks great, Timmy. You look very good.” Bruce tries to smile, can only manage a Chrissy Tiegen style grimace instead. “I got you a uniform, okay, let’s put this on. Jason, Dickie, out.”

The entire time Bruce is helping Tim change into his new school uniform his brain is whirring. He can’t let the kid go to school looking like a malting dog, but he also can’t let Tim miss his first day of school either. Down in the pit of his stomach, Bruce is coming to a terrible realisation. By the time Tim’s tie is tied (there’s not time for teaching this morning), he realises there is literally no other option.

He rushes the boys out the door, taking the car to school instead of their usual morning walk, so they’re not even later than they already are.

“Bye boys,” He calls, variously ruffling hair, and pressing kisses to cheeks. “Learn something good today!” Then he speeds off into the city.

A good few hours later, he’s back at the Manor. Flops face down onto one of the couches in the library.

“Is that you, Master Bruce?” Alfred calls from the kitchen. Bruce can hear him making up a tray of tea and cookies. “Did I really hear you call Superman, of all people, for help with uniforms this morning?” He asks disapprovingly, making his way to the library.

“I don’t want to hear it, Alfred.” Bruce mumbles into the cushion his face is squashed in.

“Well, as long as you’re not planning on abusing Clark’s good nature every mor—” Alfred suddenly stands very still. “What on earth have you done to your hair?” He asks.

Bruce sits up grumpily. “This cost me $300.” He says sourly.

“You did that on purpose!?” Alfred asks alarmed.

“Jason cut Tim’s hair this morning. I didn’t want Tim to feel stupid.” He mutters, then, “I didn’t know what else to do!”

“Oh my dear boy.” Alfred says with an affectionate laugh. He puts the tea tray down, ruffles Bruce’s ridiculous tufts of hair. “You really are a soft touch.”

Clearly Bruce’s hair is even worse than it originally looked in the barbers, because Alfred takes pity on him and goes to collect the boys from school. The second they return, Dick absolutely falls to pieces laughing at Bruce’s hair.

“You look like a squirrel!” He cackles, clutching his sides.

Tim looks up at Bruce, highly concerned. “Oh no.” He says, eyes wide. “Oh no, no, no.”

“Don’t worry.” Jason pats Bruce’s arm sagely. “It will grow back soon,” And Bruce has to remind himself that five year olds have no concept of time. “In like five years.”

[fluentmoviequoter]

Heart Set on Amulets

Summary: Dalton meets shy, introverted reader and they become friends. Eventually, he finds out that she's a witch and tells her about his astral projecting. She creates an amulet to help him sleep, and Dalton discovers how nice dreams can be.

Requested Here!

Update (October 2023): Heart Set on Amulets Universe Masterlist

Warnings: canon-typical discussion of the Further, several vague references to Insidious: The Last Key (2018), in-depth discussions of magic and witchcraft (I did my homework for this one lol), Google Translate Latin, fluff. 3.4k+ words.

A/N: All of the witchcraft-related content is from my Supernatural knowledge and the Supernatural wiki page. This was a great request and super fun to write! Let me know what you think and I hope you like it! :)

 

If you could get away with wearing a glamour amulet to look like someone else for your whole life, you would. Or better yet, an invisibility shield. For as long as you can remember, you’ve preferred to fade into the background and avoid everyone. Most people thought you were simply shy, but as you got older, you knew something else was happening inside you.

On your thirteenth birthday, you discovered you were a witch. Vowing never to tell anyone, you embraced what you believe to be your destiny. Wearing black, “witchy” clothes, keeping to yourself, and practicing the mystic arts in the dark allowed you to grow in ways you never imagined. The people closest to you thought you were in a goth or witch phase. When you walked across the stage at your high school graduation, casting spells under your breath, they accepted that it is who you are. Now it’s your turn.

Arriving at college, you continue to keep to yourself. Learning that you are a witch did nothing for your social skills, still preferring to be quiet and as invisible as possible. Managing to secure an on-campus apartment, you have space to practice and develop your powers in your free time and have a quiet place to think and get away from the busy, people-filled life you live beyond your door.

 “Cloaking flame,” you read, flipping through the spell book you have been building on for years. You run your finger along the page, reading the ingredients and effects of the spell. “Black candle, blood, a lit match… conceals caster and causes spontaneous combustion.”

Looking toward your pantry, you consider trying the spell until you hear people talking in the hall outside. You shake your head, thinking that spontaneous combustion probably isn’t the best idea in an apartment. Turning the page, you look at the first of many pages of research you’ve conducted on dreams over the years. Flicking your wrist, you conjure a cup of your favorite drink and take a sip before tapping the sigil and sending your spell book into a pocket dimension for safekeeping. The hallway is silent as you carry your drink to your bedroom, distantly wondering what it feels like to have company in your apartment.

“Dolphin, that’s stupid!” someone yells ahead of you on the sidewalk.

 “Why don’t you yell a little louder, Chris?” the boy you assume is ‘Dolphin’ responds.

“Hey!” The girl turns toward you and beckons someone closer. As you look over your shoulder, she adds, “Yeah, you. Please help me!”

Shaking your head and sending a small smile, you whisper, “Praesidium ab extraneis custodi me a periculo” (Protection from strangers keep me from danger).

You continue walking, fiddling with the amulet around your neck. Years ago, when you became a witch, you visited a psychic who gifted you the charm necklace, encouraging you to put whatever spell or enchantment you desired upon it. The amulet has remained unenchanted since then, waiting for the right moment. Your fingers grip the amulet tighter when someone falls into step beside you.

“Hey, I just wanted to apologize for Chris – my friend that harassed you on the sidewalk earlier… I’m Dalton.” He extends his hand for you to shake, then drops it quickly. “You don’t have to talk to me, I’m usually super introverted but Chris tends to rub people the wrong way at first, so I thought I should apologize. And now I’m rambling.”

“It’s fine,” you whisper, stopping at a split in the sidewalk. “I appreciate the apology, and not trying making me talk.”

“Anytime.” Dalton smiles, and you can’t stop the small smile you send him in return. “I’ll see you around.”

 “Maybe.”

 “Definitely,” Dalton concludes with a wink.

As you watch Dalton walk away, the idea of pathokinesis pops into your head. You shake your head to rid the thought. The last thing someone like you needs is a love spell. It’s not like you could talk to him even if you did manipulate him into thinking he loves you. And, most importantly, you would never mess with someone’s emotions, not with how much trouble you have with your own.

You try to push Dalton out of your mind in class, your mind eventually drifting to a dimensional manipulation spell you were working on the night before. The person beside you asks for a pencil, and you briefly wish you had learned the cloaking flame spell as you silently pass a pencil, letting your eyes watch the pencil to avoid any awkward eye contact.

The last thing you expect is to see Dalton waiting by the door when you exit class, yet here he is.

 “So, I was thinking,” he begins.

 “Scary thought,” you mumble.

Dalton laughs before continuing as he walks beside you, but not close enough to make you uncomfortable. “You’re super easy to talk to, like, I’ve never met someone that I could start a conversation with, but here you are. Granted, you don’t really say anything, so it’s more that I have a conversation with the idea of you? I don’t know. Does that make sense?”

 “Yeah.” You shrug as you look at his shoes. “I don’t talk to anyone though, really, so don’t feel too bad.”

 “You’re talking to me now. After a very long lecture from Chris, which means she yelled at me, I realized that maybe we could try to be friends. If it doesn’t work, we walk away, no harm done. What do you think?”

“Why? I’m the definition of introverted and I’m super weird.”

“Chris likes to say that everyone’s weird.”

Remaining silent, Dalton stops talking and looks straight ahead, allowing you to think for several minutes.

“Hey, where are we going?”

“I’m going to my apartment.”

“You got an apartment? Lucky.”

“Look.” You hold an arm up to stop Dalton, looking in his general direction but failing to make eye contact. “We can try. This is my building, apartment 7. If you need a quiet place to think or work, or just away from your eccentric friend, come over. I’ll try to talk, but I can’t guarantee anything. You’re nice, Dalton, and you deserve friends, but I’m too shy to ever talk this much again.” You rush past him and wait until you are in your apartment before taking a deep breath, sagging against the door. “I just talked to him,” you realize aloud.

After your last class on Friday, just two days after talking to Dalton, you hear a knock on your door. Clutching a black obsidian stone, you raise it behind the door as you open it. Your hand falls to your side as you make unintentional eye contact with Dalton.

“You scared me,” you accuse.

“You said I could come over?”

You nod and open the door, allowing him to come inside. As you close the door, you look around and thank the morning version of you for straightening up before you left.

“Nice place. Do you want me to leave?”

“No, Dalton, you’re good. I’m just jumpy, sorry.”

Dalton loosens his hold on his backpack strap, setting his bag in the corner before looking around. He steps closer to your bookshelf, looking at the books and shelf of black candles. Most of your witch-related belongings are in the cabinets in the kitchen, hidden from sight.

“What’s the stone for?” Dalton points to the obsidian in your hand.

“Oh, it was a gift,” you lie. “Just picked it up when you knocked. No one ever really visits.” The last part was the truth, at least.

“Well, they’re missing out.” Dalton smiles before turning back to the bookshelf.

“You can sit wherever. I assume you came for a reason?”

“I can’t just come to say hi?”

“You can. I don’t know why you would,” you admit with furrowed brows.

Dalton helps himself to your couch, spreading his arms across the back as he smiles at you. You finally realize how long you’ve maintained eye contact and look down, tapping your feet together.

“You’re better company than you think. Let’s break open each other’s shells.”

Dalton is serious, and for the first time in your life, you think that maybe having a friend wouldn’t be so bad. As you and Dalton take turns asking questions about each other, you nearly forget about the pocket dimension holding your spell book and the pantry. For a few minutes, you feel normal. But you have never been normal, and one friend won’t change that.

Hours after the sun has gone down, Dalton gathers his things and heads for your door. You whisper a warding spell as you open the door for him, protecting him from harm as he enters the world. After he leaves and the door is closed, your hand lifts to your amulet while your mind drifts to the cloaking flame and where you could possibly test it.

Saturday morning, you get a text from Dalton – whose name and number he must have put into your phone sometime last night. Warily, you accept his invitation to breakfast. When he knocks on the door, you see Chris at his side, and you realize where your apprehension came from. You’re learning to talk to Dalton, but when you see Chris, you shut down.

 “I’m going to meet you two there,” Chris says suddenly, looking between you and Dalton. She grabs Dalton by the shirt and whispers in his ear, unheard by you, “Don’t mess this up, Dolphin.”

Dalton offers his hand, and you take it slowly, interlacing your fingers with his as you walk. He looks tired, and while you’re not used to caring for the people around you, he makes it seem very easy.

“We don’t have to go to breakfast, Dalton,” you offer.

“I want to.”

“Did you get any sleep last night?”

“Why do you ask?” Dalton smiles and pulls your hand closer. “Because you kept me out so late last night?”

“No, I just...” you take a breath to stop stuttering and decide to shoot straight. “You look tired.”

“I am, but I’ll get over it. Now, what’s your favorite breakfast food?”

Dalton fills the rest of the walk with conversation, offering easy questions you can answer quickly. He never makes you feel forced to talk; more like he is inviting you to and hanging onto your every word. At the restaurant, Dalton is a buffer between you and Chris. However, you quickly realize that while Chris can be loud and comes across as abrasive, she is actually sweet, and you can see yourself becoming friends with her. Slowly, maybe, but eventually.

Over the next few weeks, you learn the appeal of having friends. Dalton is at your apartment more than his own dorm. Chris has come over several times, and you can talk to her without Dalton around now. While they haven’t said anything, you wonder if they’re curious about the ever-shifting candles or the arrangement of wax on your table. You want to tell them who you really are, but your fear that they’ll leave feels crippling. Losing the only friends you’ve ever had is frightening enough that you’d be willing to stop practicing witchcraft. If that were possible, that is.

Just before fall break, when the leaves are falling, every student is carrying a hot drink, and tickets to go home for Thanksgiving are being purchased, your relationship with Dalton changes forever. It’s nearly midnight when knocking on your door almost breaks your concentration during a spell. Ignoring it, you focus on the scrying spell arranged on your table. With your arms out over the arrangement and your eyes focused on the prism in the center, you repeat the name of the man you are looking for, alternating between the English and Latin versions of his name. The knocking comes again, and you can’t risk losing the progress you’ve made.

“Come in and shut up!” You yell quickly, keeping your eyes on the prism and the name in your mind.

You hear the door open, then very slowly close. As your chanting picks up speed, the prism lights up, drawing you in before everything goes dark. Dropping your arms to the chair in front of you, you lean your weight on it as you catch your breath.

From across the room, Dalton whispers your name. You look up at him, pulling the black shawl from your head to meet his eyes.

“What is going on?” he asks, wide-eyed.

You take a deep breath before standing to your full height. The lights flicker on, the energy you channeled into the prism returning to the wires. Dalton looks between you and the table.

“I can explain.”

Dalton remains silent, pressing his lips together and gesturing for you to continue.

 “Short answer is I’m a witch. The longer answer is that my entire life I’ve felt like I didn’t belong; I could never make friends or talk to people, and I just- something was missing. When I turned thirteen, I found out I was a witch.”

“How?” Dalton interrupts.

“An energy blast,” you admit, pulling on your fingers and hoping Dalton won’t leave. “Shot it straight through my bedroom wall. Covered it up with a story that something fell and hit the wall at a weird angle and that’s why it went all the way through.”

“People believed that?”

“I guess.” You shrug and try to look away from Dalton. “Never said anything else about it.”

“Okay. So, you’ve been a witch since you were thirteen, basically?”

“Yeah.”

Dalton nods, saying something to himself before asking, “What did I just walk in on?”

“A scrying spell. It’s a locator spell, used to find people.”

“And you told me to shut up because?”

“Distraction is one of the biggest weaknesses for witches. Losing one bit of concentration could be the difference between life and death, or it could alter a spell and cause something unexpected to happen. Sorry, though.”

“No, it’s fine.” Dalton walks to the table and stands beside you. “Which part is the most important?’

“All of it, but the prism is vital. It’s what shows me the location of the person I’m looking for.”

“And where are they?”

“Five Keys, New Mexico.”

You look over at Dalton as he examines each piece of your spell, waving in front of the mirrors and looking at the reflections of the crystals. He looks tired, even more so than usual.

“What’s going on, Dalton? You look like you haven’t slept at all.”

“I haven’t,” he admits with a humorless laugh. He looks over to you and clenches his jaw. “I guess you told your secret, I can tell mine.”

You nod and place your hand on his forearm, encouraging him.

“I can astral project. I’m pretty sure it started when I was younger and that the coma my parents told me about wasn’t a coma. It’s gotten really bad recently. The dimension where I go, the Further, is full of souls and demons that are trying to get out. Every time I try to sleep, I end up there and I- I don’t know what to do.”

“I can help.”

Dalton shakes his head. “How?”

“Promise not to freak out?”

Dalton’s eyes widen in anticipation rather than fear this time, and he smiles as he nods. You wave your hand in a circle, flourishing at the bottom to open the pocket dimension in which your spell book resides. Pulling the heavy book onto your table, Dalton watches in awe as you close the dimensional rift behind it. Finding a worn tab near the back, you open the book and begin reading.

“Feel free to share with the class, Professor,” Dalton teases, looking over your shoulder. “Is that Latin?”

“Some of it. Basically, this spell works as a sort of immobilization and a warding spell combination. It doesn’t actually immobilize you, but it keeps your astral body, soul, whichever you prefer, in this dimension. The warding aspect ensures that any portal opened by your gift isn’t usable from the other side.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning nothing in the Further can come through to this dimension.”

“So, it would close the door?” Dalton asks excitedly.

“Not exactly. My understanding of the Further is that there is a door within it, in addition to any route that can be opened to enter or exit it. Basically, the door you’re talking about is to a room within a house. This won’t keep things from using that door, but it stops them before they make it to this world.”

“And the spell helps me sleep?”

“The spell itself, no. I’ll have to enchant something with the spell, then you keep that object with you when you sleep, and it will provide a broader coverage of the spell. Imagine the object having the spell locked within it, on a never-ending loop. Enchanting an object repeats the spell over and over because the spell lives within it.”

“Okay. What kind of object?”

Your hands raise to the amulet on your neck. It has been awaiting its purpose for over half a decade, and it has finally come. You unhook the clasp, pulling the chain from your neck.

“Whoa, what are you doing?” Dalton asks, his hands grabbing yours.

“Enchanting this amulet. Then you can just wear it to sleep.”

“I’ve never seen you without this thing.”

“I haven’t taken it off since I was thirteen. I’ve been waiting for the right time to enchant it, its sole purpose.”

“But it’s yours.”

“And I want to give it to you. Dalton, you’re worth this. Let me do this for you. You are the only reason I feel like I belong here, you’re my only friend, and this is the least I can do for you.”

“Only if you’re sure.”

You nod, and Dalton slowly removes his hands, watching you open your ingredient cabinet and pull a few new candles and a letter opener.

“What’s everything for? Can you talk me through it until you have to concentrate?”

“So, I’ll light the candles as part of the spell, then – this part’s kind of gross – I have to add some blood to the melted wax, then heat the amulet over the flame while I project the spell into it.”

Dalton nods with your explanation, cringing slightly at the mention of blood. You tell him the names and general purposes of the items as you set everything up, then ask him to step back as you begin.

“Corpus, caro et anima, malum annulos, animus nolo depreadandum, maneo. Body, flesh and soul, evil tolls, the soul will not pray, stay,” you begin, chanting as the candle melts. When the black wax begins to pour over the edge, you lift the letter opener and prick your forefinger, ignoring Dalton’s gasp as a drop of blood mixes into the hot liquid. You continue the chant as you hold the amulet over the flame, gaining volume until the amulet is too hot to hold. When you drop the necklace on the table, the candle goes out, and the flame dances in the amulet briefly before everything returns to normal.

“That’s going to take a while to get used to,” Dalton mutters.

“You said that like you’re sticking around.” It’s not a question, but you say it as if it were.

“Where would I go? Find a better friend than the one who pricked her finger to keep me from having what are essentially bad dreams?”

“You and I both know they’re not bad dreams,” you point out as you motion for Dalton to sit down. You put the amulet on, stepping around him to see how it looks. “She told me I’d know when it was time.”

“Who?”

“The psychic who gave me the amulet. I went to see her after I found out I was a witch.”

Dalton nods. “Have you seen her again?”

“No, but I’m planning to visit someone who knew her well.”

“I just have more questions now.”

“I’m going to Five Keys, New Mexico, to talk to a guy called Specs.”

Dalton stands and takes your hands. “Thank you for the amulet, I’m going to go sleep for a very long time. Then I want to hear more about this trip because there is no way you are going by yourself.”

“Did you just invite yourself?” you ask as he picks up his bag and heads for the door.

“What was it you said? That I’m worth it? Well, so are you,” he calls as the door closes.

If Dalton's going to keep looking at you like that, you're going to have to learn the cloaking flame move.

That night, Dalton sleeps peacefully for the first time in years, dreaming of you while you wonder what kind of magic brought Dalton Lambert into your life.

[liskantope]

Three weeks ago I attended the NYC rationalist Secular Solstice and, as I said back at the time, I've been intending to record something about my experience there like I did the last two times. I'm not sure I have as much to say this time around (or not as much interesting to say), and also some of my memories already aren't as fresh since three weekends ago, but here are some comments about the evening.

First of all, my strong feeling about the whole thing is that, while the solstice event itself is great and well done and worthwhile, just showing up for the solstice event is just not the way to do things: it's only one part of a much larger rationalist "megameetup" which -- I now get the feeling more strongly than ever -- would be really fun and interesting. I was convinced enough of this the previous time to make some effort (limited by the sheer hecticness of my November this past year) to figure out a way to be in NYC for the whole weekend, preferably without paying tons of money for lodging. But I just couldn't figure out any feasible way to do this, in particular because of the timing right around my students' final exams. I wish I had managed somehow, though: the people who attend the solstice event are just so visibly interesting and engaging and overall seem fun to spend a whole weekend with; and I imagine I could learn a ton on rationality- and EA-related topics if I did the Megameetup.

Anyway, I managed to arrive late again to the start of the event (for at least the second year in a row), just because I had too many things to take care of at my home before setting off for NYC, and Hofstadter's Law always applies to my journey to any particular part of NYC. What's funnier is that I also missed the beginning of the "second act" as I got caught up in conversation with several people during the intermission who weren't actually doing the solstice and didn't realize I was, and I didn't realize for a while that Part 2 had begun. I followed the semi-tradition (at least from two years ago) of arriving at and doing the event on no dinner, but some free snacks provided by one of the organizers outside the room helped a lot here.

I found the songs as meaningful as always and recognized many of them -- the main one that's stayed with me since is "Bitter Wind Blown", but there were some others that I remembered distinctly. There was a song I didn't recall from previous programs where part of the chorus was about not being able to "find my tribe, find my tribe, find my tribe", and I found that one spoke to me quite a lot. Altogether I'm ready to forcefully repeat what I've said after previous rationalist solstice events: the content of this music and the vibe of the whole event touches me more deeply than any type of religious service I've been to.

At the same time, I feel that my mind was elsewhere this time perhaps even more than the last time. I was tired (partly just from having rushed for hours to get there mostly on my own steam) and had generally been stressed out for weeks, and somehow the continuity of doing this for the third consecutive year brought up feelings that weren't entirely positive: I feel like my life is in a holding pattern over the past three years, with being at the same non-permanent job and not knowing what the next step is (along with, of course, being perpetually single and having no idea still in my late 30's where to expect my personal life to go). At no moment is this brought to my attention more forcefully than the part where members of the audience are asked to stand up in stages based on their involvement in EA, and there's still not much I can say for myself on that front -- I can't bring myself to do much until I know better what my financial and professional future looks like, and I hope this will change in the near future. Moreover, I began thinking of how this was the first rationalist event I'd been to where I could say that a solid decade ago I already knew and was very enthusiastic about the rationalist movement and had (a decade earlier) dreamed of becoming heavily involved, and ten years later almost none of that has happened -- it's not something I long for in most of my day-to-day life, but there's something inspiring about seeing some of the people at the forefront of the main Northeastern US branch of it in their element organizing stuff. Regardless of all this, for me there's something wonderfully moderately relaxing about singing along with a bunch of mostly-strangers that I still managed to enjoy quite a lot.

A major, major plus to the arrangements this year was that the solstice event was at the same convention center as the entire Megameetup, and in particular this meant that the after party was directly within and outside of the room the solstice ceremonies had taken place in. It's hard to overstate how much easier this made the evening as a whole (especially when compared to my experience two years earlier when I had made the mistake of attending by car!). My time at the after party was still limited, as I had to think about making the journey home without being up most of the night, but I was there long enough to have a bunch of conversations and appreciate how delightfully visibly autistic and rationalist-y and distinctly young-to-early-middle-age the whole crowd was. Again, the after party made me wish I could have spent the whole weekend and actually gotten to know more of the people there.

In terms of meeting familiar faces/handles, I saw a lot of @drethelin, whom I'd gotten to know in person at the previous NYC Secular Solstice (after being acquainted with him from Tumblr and SSC comments sections for most of the past decade). My impression of him as an unfailingly pleasant and affable person has been further cemented. He had to listen to way too much of me grousing over the academic job market and having no idea how things will be for me geographically in a year's time (primarily this was in the context of being able to attend further NYC rationalist events). In addition, I saw a bit of @taymonbeal but didn't speak to him beyond literally just saying hello and almost certainly not giving him enough time to have any idea of who I was. I'm pretty sure that during the event I was sitting directly behind Zvi and his family, but I remembered less about Zvi than I used to back when I was seeing his blog posts regularly (I don't know why I don't anymore) and remember only that I used to follow his Wordpress(?) blog and that I think he gave a speech at the solstice event two years ago. Again, I was at the cusp of cementing a number of new acquaintances, but time didn't allow me to pursue this much. Conversation was always fun and interesting. An unexpected theme was dating prospects for a single guy seeking women in different part of the country (in which several people emphasized the usual wisdom that NYC is the best place for this), which I don't recall actually bringing up myself, which at one point led to advice about how to increase my own dating prospects: I was told to... I think the phrase was "make myself bigger", which was clearly a euphemism for building up the muscles in my upper body (a goal I've already had for a while but am currently barely any closer to figuring out how to do). The gender ratio was not great, and there was definitely (as one may guess from the subject matter just mentioned) a "young-ish nerdy male" vibe in the after party, but most everyone appeared to be enjoying themselves and not to be hiding in their shells, whether a guy or not.

I had quite a journey just to get to the secret free/available parking spot where I had left my car (in a different part of the city altogether), and just around midnight I was buying a gyro for a very late supper from an outdoor seller and thinking over how one day not long from now I may lead a more responsible and tied-down life and feel nostalgia for the time when I could be alone on a public street at midnight in freezing cold getting food. Then I had a very spooky but not-unpleasant-to-look-back-on experience wandering the completely vacant streets of a park near one in the morning looking for my car before I had to make the long drive home (during which, strangely, I managed to stay wide awake much more easily than on the drive there).

I'm tempted to resolve never to attend the NYC Secular Solstice again without attending at least part of the Megameetup or without living closer to NYC, but we'll see. (There actually is a small but not insignificant chance, which I didn't have evidence of three weeks ago, that I may get a job closer to the city than I am now.)

(I kept my name tag somewhere in my home -- it shows my handle on one side and my IRL name on the other, so I guess if I die an IRL people look through my stuff one day they'll figure out I'm Liskantope, although probably there was some way or other to figure out such a thing anyway by looking at what came from my IP addresses or whatever.)

[zukadiary]

Kazuki Sora taidan diary 〜 2024.2.11

(also kind of a Boiled Doyle on the Toil Trail / Frozen Holiday write up)

I've now woken up eight times in a world where Kazuka Sora is an OG (changing that number daily, as I've been trying to write this for six days), and the sense of having somehow slipped into a severely incorrect timeline is getting progressively stronger. Coupled bizarrely with that is deep, deep gratitude that, despite everything that's happened in the last four years, and especially in the last five months, she got a gut-wrenchingly, absolutely devastatingly beautiful taidan. I can't say perfect, because perfect would have been after a well deserved top star run. But barring that, I never dreamed it would get this close.

Long post incoming.

I have to set the stage...

Once upon a time in 2013, Asaka Manato, then nibante in Ouki Kaname's Soragumi, got her turn starring in Brilliant Dreams +NEXT, a multi-part Sky Stage series where you got to like, do some stuff of your choice with other people in your troupe. She decided to recreate some of her favorite revue choreography, and a friend alerted me that one episode was dedicated to the infamous Rosso scene from Takarazuka's Dream Kingdom (which, as you can see in the linked post, completely short circuited noob me from a decade ago). Maasama was still a good 2+ years from winning me over at the time, and I think I reluctantly watched it with some level of offense that she touched a Komu thing. As I'm sitting in front of my computer rolling my eyes, out comes this tiny thing in capri pants, mismatched socks, suspenders, and thick glasses: ken-4 Kazuki Sora, here to report on the situation in the rehearsal room.

She spent her airtime cracking jokes, tripping on her tongue, riding on Susshi's shoulders, and generally acting like Soragumi's annoying kid brother. I thought she was funny.

Another friend told me she thought she was tracked. I absolutely did not believe her.

Then, against a fair amount of adversity, she got the 100th anniversary Rose of Versailles shinko lead, and my eyes widened a bit. The next time I found myself in Japan, I was gifted a 9th row seat to what coincidentally happened to be her first ginkyou crossing in PHOENIX Takarazuka! I'd been spending the show curiously scanning the stage for her, and when I witnessed the gap between reporter and performer, my jaw hit the floor.

Afterwards, my kangeki companion asked if I was interested in anyone in the troupe. I said Kazuki Sora. She recoiled and said "but she's so short."

***

Something that I noticed during this taidan trip is that covid-era fans met a wildly different Sora than I know. Growing up in 2010s Soragumi was uniquely rough. I'm not even talking about ::hand waves:: the present circumstances and what may or may not have lead up to them; I mean they persisted with a level of star saturation through the dawn of the pandemic that had kinda crazy consequences for the otokoyaku track. Not only was the track itself overcrowded, but the troupe also held onto a number of non-tracked upperclassmen to whom they seemed unwaveringly committed to casting in juicy roles. I remember when things seemed so untenable that Soragumi fans were universally on pins and needles waiting for what felt like an inevitable big transfer out, and I remember freezing in shock on the side of the road when instead they transferred Serika Toa in.

Here's some analysis for perspective:

Kiki is the third oldest top of all time, and spent more time as nibante alone than Tamaki Ryou took to get from debut to top.

Lord knows how long Soragumi will be in this state of flux, but if they come out of it and Kiki gets a normal number of shows, AND Sakuragi Minato is next, Zun could immediately overtake Kiki for third place

Speaking of Zun, her first two-city lead was in 2020. Looking at her top star douki, Rei Makoto's and Yuzuka Rei's were in 2017, and Tsukishiro Kanato's was in 2018.

Rukaze Hikaru's first bow lead was in 2019, two years later than her other tracked douki, Akatsuki Chisei (four if you count A-EN).

Slightly more invisible but just as devastating, the lessened exposure on stage between leads has likely resulted in lower fan club numbers and less overall popularity.

...and back to Sora. Hundreds of us filled Hibiya Park this past weekend, but Sora spent her early Takarazuka career so buried that, despite being a triple threat on stage and an utter delight off, her fan base was small enough that at ken-7 they let me, not yet even a club member, accompany my friend to demachi where I became the third attendee. For years, Sora was, frustratingly, an in-person only watch. I'd go to Japan, memorize her positions, miss the rest of the show for following her with my opera glasses, and pop in the DVD at home only to find her always just off screen. A Motion was one of the most fun times I've had in a Takarazuka theater, and on the DVD during my favorite Sora SOLO, the camera is on Sorahane Riku wordlessly dancing.

I was floored when she got Anita. I was livid that she could give THAT PERFORMANCE and immediately afterwards be cast as an ensemble soldier in Red River (although she was so good in Citrus Breeze that after 5 years of deluding myself that I "couldn't betray my beloved Yukigumi like that" ((ironic, right?)) I finally caved and joined club). I stress dreamed multiple times about the impending bow announcement before she got Hustle Mates. I cried when she finally came down the stairs between two musumeyaku in Ocean's Eleven at ken-10, in which she played Linus, a role that felt like a big break even though it had previously always gone to ken-6s. FINALLY, the massive Ocean's taidan relieved a little pressure, and I felt a tangible thrill when suddenly she was all over the Aqua Vitae shonichi digest, something that had never happened before.

That's where we left off in February 2020, when the Diamond Princess docked in Yokohama, and my therapist didn't know what I was talking about when I said I was giving myself a stomachache watching live case numbers ahead of my scheduled trip, and I canceled my flight, and I put my freshly printed pack of homemade Suleiman postcards under my bed, and I didn't see her for 4 years 4 months and 3 days.

***

It's hard to talk about Sora's taidan announcement and not come off as biased and overly dramatic, given that she's my girl. But in 11 years of countless taidan announcements, I've never come close to being as blindsided by one as I was with hers. The vibe I've gotten is that fans, siennes, and patrons alike were all properly shocked.

I'd spent the better part of a decade internally screaming for Takarazuka to act like they recognize her undeniable talent. Frustratingly, it finally started happening during covid. While I was living under the impression that Hustle Mates was a genuine miracle, she got an unimaginable second lead... then, thanks to the breathing room in her new Yukigumi home, a third... and then a fourth. Having been burned for so long, I've always firmly been team I-don't-think-Sora-is-going-to-make-top, but despite that, I was actually starting to believe it could—dare I say would—happen. I wasn't even certain the people murmuring on twitter that she might leapfrog Aasa were completely delusional. I went into Hyperbolic Chart, my looooong awaited reunion, excited to assess Kasumi Sana as her potential future partner. I enthusiastically bought all her postcards for future writing, because the last time I'd seen her, she, at ken-10, didn't have postcards.

Two days after that I found myself again frozen in shock on the side of the road.

Two days after that.... yeah.

***

Somehow, despite 11 years of knowing how this works, of weathering various taidans with friends, of crying in bathrooms until they started cleaning the theater at taidans that weren't even technically mine, I was also completely blindsided by the taidan experience itself.

Part of it was definitely the time skip, from years of intimate Sora fandom to nothing to a couple of A-seki (she's the it girl now!) for a lead I wouldn't have chosen with a troupe I barely recognize anymore to bye, she's gone. Part of it was being thrown back into this after 4+ years of pandemic-dulled emotions, followed by the exhaustion of Takarazuka's crisis era. Part of it was lowered expectations from the largely uninspired and under funded lineup of forgettable shows churned out by tired directors of dubious morality. Part of it was the disaster-shortened Mura run, the self-preserving dissociation fueled by the pain and disbelief that there was a dinner show and I wasn't at it, followed by a month and a half stretch of work so busy it was still going while I sat at the ANA gate for my 1am flight.

But I got here and squeezed into one of those red seats and then all at once I was an unsealed vacuum, cracked wide open, and Doyle and Frozen Holiday rushed in and filled the airless void till it burst.

Boiled Doyle on the Toil Trail

I've been down on Yukigumi.

Yukigumi has been my home troupe for the vast majority of my fandom. I had the fancy Swarovski crystal Yukigumi bag charms, the whole Yukigumi getup from Sports Day '14, Yukigumi albums, Yukigumi chopsticks, etc etc etc. I literally didn't join Sora club for years because I couldn't imagine being pulled out of Yukigumi. But while I was locked out of the country, the march of time took my favorite top star and the vast majority of my emotional support upperclassmen. The pandemic spit Yukigumi out in a state that just made me reeeeeeeeally sad. So I stopped watching them. That's the exact moment they picked to put Sora there.

I hate to admit it, but I still haven't totally caught up on her Yukigumi time.

Which is probably the main reason this show caught me SO off guard... even having watched AND enjoyed the Mura livestream. Sora is best watched in person, after all.

Doyle—a silly take on Arthur Conan Doyle's life, and how he used a magic pen to write Sherlock Holmes by accident, thus setting into motion a runaway series of events—is not only a fun and joyful show, it's a masterpiece of casting. The top 4 were at their absolute peak, and it was a thrill to watch.

I've been watching Ayakaze Sakina since her shinjin kouen days, and my write-ups over the years probably betray my rollercoaster hot and cold journey through her career. I really liked Doyle as a lead for her though. She essentially plays a big idiot wifeguy with a dream, an imaginary best friend, and little conviction; she was very funny and charming. If you were one of the lucky few who managed to see On the 20th Century, think that guy but earnestly the main character vs. dude with main character syndrome. The older I get, the more I have a soft spot for shows where the top combi has "ecstatically celebrating at least their tenth wedding anniversary" energy, and this was one of those.

...Thanks in large part to Yumeshiro Aya, who is absolutely everything. She may be boosted by consistently reminding me of Shirahane Yuri since her partial lead in the 103s Bunkasai, but she also has a very particular type of girlboss energy that I don't feel like I've seen in quite a while. It isn't wearing the proverbial pants energy (a la early TamaChapi), but it is overwhelming I got this energy. I find her to be the absolute embodiment of a top musumeyaku, in that she understands the assignment (making the top star better), while perching on the edge of the backseat just enough that she doesn't overpower Saki, but she's still a knockout in her own right. She probably exudes an extra dose of this energy as Louisa Doyle, who plays a very similar role in her husband's life and writing career. I could not be more thrilled that Aya isn't retiring yet.

Asami Jun plays the aforementioned imaginary friend/magic pen-generated apparition, who happens to be Sherlock Holmes. Some people I've talked to seem a little disappointed in her stage time, but I really felt like this was also peak Aasa. She seems to have broken through a layer of ceiling and gotten really comfortable leaning into her c***y unique energy, which, though I can picture it being polarizing, really does it for me. I sure as hell have never seen an interpretation of Sherlock Holmes REMOTELY like Aasa's, but I was enjoying the Aasa of it all so much that I really didn't care.

When I saw that Sora was playing the editor of Strand Magazine, I was somewhat disappointedly imagining a role like Lestrade (not to invoke another Sherlock), the sort of there-but-not character that has dominated her Takarazuka career since she started getting named roles. My first surprise was how good of a role this was in general, and then how well suited it was to her. She gets to be aloof and handsome, but also incredibly upbeat and funny at times. Her little coworkers at her utterly failing magazine are obsessed with her (which is the mood of the century), and there is a cute little meta moment where Doyle threatens to stop writing Sherlock and Sora tries to quit her job, only to be restrained physically by said coworkers (which is the mood of the moment). Everything from the set of her off-gray permed wig to her 4 or so different plaid suits to her opening solo number was absolutely perfect (not as perfect as it was gonna be later!!!!!).

FROZEN HOLIDAY

It's weird watching a Christmas show in February

I rapidly stopped caring

Speaking of rollercoasters of hot and cold, Noguchi used to be my most hated revue director, hands down. Circa 2017-18, after being deeply personally burned by Super Voyager (and deeply personally confused by Beautiful Garden), the tension I felt while awaiting show announcements hoping I wouldn't have to watch another Noguchi was intense. Noguchi revues being something people covet nowadays still feels unfamiliar, but I count myself among people.

He turned it around for me with the Takarazuka equivalent of winning the grocery store ingredients episode of Project Runway: Delicieux, a covid-budget masterpiece of public domain music and foam macarons (incidentally, also a goodbye to Sora of sorts, as it was her last Soragumi revue). I officially owe him my life after what he did for her in Frozen Holiday.

Firstly, going into my 11th year of watching live Yukigumi, I've never seen Saki shine brighter. While ostensibly a Christmas spectacular, Frozen Holiday was also meant to celebrate Yukigumi's 100th anniversary. Despite the aforementioned rollercoaster, I'm so glad that the top star for the anniversary was someone who has not spent a day outside of Yukigumi in her sienne life, who I've been watching since before my first trip to Japan. And I think the joy of it really showed on her. Aya was an angel, so visually perfect in her snow queen dress that I believed she was destined to be top musumeyaku of Yukigumi from birth. Aasa continued to out-Aasa herself; the wave of feral energy she set off during the first livestream was well earned.

But... remember the disembodied arm just off the TV screen? The utter SHOCK I experienced when they treated her like a friggin' nibante...

Nanami Hiroki, who pulled top star numbers and probably had double our last day crowd at her average Hoshigumi ochakai, and Miya Rurika, who needed a simulcast for her last ochakai, didn't even get the final revue treatment that Sora did.

The disbelief that they did so good by her, the disbelief that I missed the transition, the disbelief that she was really leaving, shattered me.

In addition to general prominence throughout the revue, she gets a whole white-clad taidan number, complete with lyrics designed to blind her fans with saltwater, and one of the best bits of dancing I've seen out of her. After a seemingly impossible quick change, she rejoins the troupe for a very chuuzume-esque anniversary number (assuming the Christmas kyakusekiori is the real chuuzume), and that might actually be my favorite bit of dancing in the whole show. She co-leads the Noguchi-signature boyband number with Aasa, which I forgive because it's them and it's also T.M. REVOLUTION. She even gets a spotlight moment alone with Saki during the kuroenbi. And through all of it, she was so, so good. Good does not even begin to describe Kazuki Sora.

I felt like I cried for 48 hours straight.

***

I didn't manage to get myself actually into the theater for senshuuraku, but I did end up with two Hibiya cinema tickets. When I tried to pass one off onto one of the fellow jilted Sora Club members trying her luck outside of Chanter, I got pounced on by an old lady while those in their white wear were moaning about the cinema not being good enough. I was too tired and nervous to tell her I'd prefer to sit next to someone in club, so she got it. She and I ended up crying the hardest of everyone in the cinema by far. Thanks, old lady <3.

***

One thing that struck me was how desperately, frightfully grateful I was that Sora retired from Yukigumi. Sure, if she hadn't, her taidan would have probably just been canceled... but I don't even mean that. The anniversary aspect of Frozen Holiday was beautiful, and filled me with a joy and nostalgia I wasn't prepared for. It was my first kyakusekiori since 2019, and after Sora ran by me, I was blessed to find myself next to Kujou Asu, someone I adore enough to be in her club in an alternate universe. It was my first iride since 2019, and I had the privilege of seeing off one of my favorite musumeyaku, Sara Anna, as well. The way the troupe members talked about Sora, and what she gave them, and how thrilled they were that she joined them, made my heart swell. As genuinely mad as I was when they broke up KikiSora, I could see that Yukigumi gave her the space to blossom.

The farewell dinner was even entirely gluten free by complete accident, down to the fancy manju omiyage with mountain yam flour dough.

***

Five onsen dips, a massive weeb shopping spree a lifetime in the making, and one extremely bizarre Komu show later, I'm on the plane home, finally not crying on command.

But not having a runaway fave for the first time in ten years feels really desolate. I miss her so much.

[eisforeidolon]

Question: I wanted to bring this up, you've done it before, but it was years ago. You kind of flailed at the beginning 'cause now we're kind of at the better half of two decades but I wanted to see what you remember best from each season now that it's been a long time. See if you remember season one, two, three - so for each season, go for it.

[Unsurprisingly, this gets super long, so answers under a cut.]

Jared: Action!

Jensen: Well, if we flailed then, this is gonna -

Jared: Yeah, exactly!

Jensen: This is gonna be a train wreck.

Jared: [repeating from audience] A six hour panel.

Jensen: That's right. What we remember the most?

Question: Yeah, like the most memorable thing. I know last time you did it you mixed up, like, season four and five, you couldn't remember two at all -

Jared: We had a season two? Uhhh, I'll give an attempt. Season one was just literally the city of Vancouver. I remember just getting there, it was beautiful, it was July, I'd never been, we were shooting Wendigo, we had a -

Jensen: Do you mean like a life moment or a moment in the show?

Question: I was gonna say the show, but you know what, just gimme what you got.

Jensen: Yeah yeah yeah. Alright. Season one -

Jared: You want odds or evens?

Jensen: I'll do odds - unless I can't think of one. I remember having divers hold my feet and hold me under water with a young child in Dead in the Water and that was a very, very freaky feeling, being held under water. Especially when you're responsible for some other person's child.

Jared: [taps Jensen] I remember the hot tub - same day, I remember the hot tub they had set up off-camera because Buntzen Lake is super cold. And so we had to be in there so long they were afraid - it's possible you could get hypothermic or whatever? And so they had a hot tub set up, like if you were, like Jensen probably could see it from when he was under water so we'd have to go after we'd jumped in, we'd go in between takes, go to the hot tub area. Hot tub, that sounds - alright. You did number one so I'll do number two. Number two I remember getting - cutting my scalp off.

Jensen: Was that number, was that?

Jared: I dunno.

Jensen: You're just making stuff up now. No no no, that was the episode where Bobby backs his Chevelle into the house and we jump in and -

Jared: Was that number two, that's season two? Ah, that was season three!

Jensen: Ah, see! I think I got a two.

Jared: Okay. My favorite part of two, was season three, apparently! So.

Jensen: I got a two. When Dad came back and shot Yellow Eyes, that was the end of two, right?

Jared: Yes, yes.

Jensen: Boom. Okay, so I just told this story to my daughter actually the other day. When Dean gets thrown - when I get thrown against the tombstone and I pull the Colt out and then Dad grabs Yellow Eyes and I shoot him? So it was Fred Lehne's coverage and I dove into this tombstone that it was - we were shooting on stage, but the tombstone had been foamed so that I could really dive into it. So they had kind of a foam pad on the front of it? But it only covered the arching [?] portion of the tombstone, the base of it was still stone. And so I, you know [gets up to demonstrate], this was the tombstone [points at front of stage], I was here [takes several steps back], the cameras were here, so I was like they're gonna cut to this, I know they're gonna cut to me kind of flying into it [imitates leaping position], and then once I land [moves to lay against designated tombstone spot], then Fred walks up and the camera's right here [points over his shoulder from behind]. So I gained a little extra, because I was still young back then, and I dove, and I turned at the last second, and my ulnary nerve, which is also referred to as the funny bone, hit the corner of the stone.

Jared: Did you laugh? [Looks at Norton]

Jensen: From - and I mean, it was like a running jump, so it was - it was so much force. And I hit it, and my whole arm went numb and then felt like it was on fire. Like it was very traumatic, but I didn't yell cut because it was Fred's coverage. So I just very slowly rolled over and I was just like - my arm was just like vibrating [shakes arm]. And it was one of the most grueling pains I've ever experienced and to this date, this that this elbow is much more sensitive - like if I bump it, barely, it's like [pained inhale] OW - it's like hitting my funny bone all the time. And it was because of that. That was season two. [turns to Jared, pointing] Season three, he ripped his scalp off!

Jared: Scalp piece off! Season two I also broke my wrist.

Jensen: That's right.

Jared: Season three was the scalping.

Jensen: Season four? Do we have a season four?

Jared: I do!

Jensen: What happened? Oh, yeah he met his wife.

Jared: No no no no, not that at all! I'm just kidding, of course that's it.

Jensen: Ok! Yeah. Ruby was played by Genevieve Cortese, so boom, that's changed his life.

Jared: Season five is Swan Song.

Jensen: Season five Swan Song, I got beat up [puts hand over eye] and I had a thing on my eye -

Jared: Oh, yeah!

Jensen: and then the glue started to melt, just like yours did in -

Jared: Season two!

Jensen: season two. Oh, we're throwin' em down now!

Jared: Yeah, dropping em like it's hot.

Jensen: That was also assbutt -

Jared: Assbutt, yeah, that was five.

Jensen: and the bottle did not break.

Jared: That was amazing. Amazing. And remember [demonstrates throwing]

Jensen: You guys heard that story?

Jared: It's on the gag reel! Yeah, it's on the gag reel, they kept on throwing it -

Jensen: So, they didn't watch the gag reel!

Jared: Watch the gag reels!

Jensen: Anyway. Okay, that was season five, season six?

Jared: Soulless.

Jensen: Soulless Sam. Was that the pushup/pullup scene? [Jared fake preens] I mean, you gotta give it to your stunt double for that scene, that was pretty amazing.

Norton: [rimshot]

Jared: [flails comically]

Jensen: Thank you.

Jared: Season seven, uh, Dick. [Jensen deadpans] Roman! Dick Roman!

Jensen: Roman.

Jared: Turducken. That was the thing?

Jensen: Was that turducken? That was turducken, right? [fake horking sound]

Jared: Bobby died. [sounds of dismay from audience] See funny bone not so funny. [turns to Norton]

Jensen: Season eight?

Jared: Was great!

Jensen: Season nine -

Jared: Season eight was -

Jensen: was fine.

Norton: [rimshot]

Jensen: What was season eight?

Jared: The trials.

Audience: Sam's hair!

Jared: Season eight was, yeah, I had [gestures indicating long hair] -

Jensen: Oh, was that the shampoo commercial? Like the whole season was just a shampoo commercial. [rolls eyes] Wait, was that Samhain -

Jared: Maybe he's born with it, maybe it's season eight.

Jensen: Was that Samhain?

Jared: Samhain? No, that was season four.

Jensen: Right. [looks pointedly away] Um.

Jared: Right? [confirming with audience] Samhain was four. But [gestures to hair again, says ???] -

Jensen: We've established eight -

Jared: Yes, nine -

Jensen: Nine - oh, this is where it gets fuzzy. Like nine, ten, eleven, twelve [makes wavy hand motion] -

[Audience is shouting various things from here that they repeat and/or respond to]

Jared: Gadreel?

Jensen: What, was that Purgatory? Oh, Purgatory yeah. She's like - that was eight? [pointing] Oh, she says that was eight. Purgatory? Yeah, it was eight! [makes comically unsure face]

Jared: What happened in season nine?

Jensen: Somebody help us, what happened in season nine? This is embarrassing!

Jared: Tortilla?

Jensen: What's this? [slaps arm repeatedly] Oh! The Mark of Cain!

Jared: Gadreel! Gadreel! Mark of Cain and Tahmoh -

Jensen: Was that the fight with Cain in the barn?

Jared: That was the knife wound [points to knee].

Jensen: That was nine? I thought that was thirteen! [Jared laughs] Shit.

Jared: Okay, moving on -

Jensen: This is a disaster. [exaggeratedly angry] I told you this was gonna be a train wreck!

Jared: Ten. So here's something from ten I remember, it didn't happen on set -

Jensen: Wait! It was the the - the high school musical.

Jared: Yes...?

Jensen: That was the two hundredth episode.

Jared: Yes, which is what I - my biggest memory from ten, not on set, but in Vancouver -

Audience: Eye of the Tiger!!

Jared: [incredulous] Was that ten?

Jensen: [even more incredulous] That was, like, season ... two!?

Jared: Get with the program, that was like -

Jensen: When was that, what was that?

Audience: Four!

Jensen: That's what I said.

Jared: The two hundredth episode party.

Jensen: What?

Jared: The two hundredth episode party! At the Marriott or whatever -

Jensen: Yeah? What happened?

Jared: I dunno, that was season ten.

Jensen: It was the two hundredth episode party, Jared and I were probably drunk before it started. Eleven?

Jared: Killing Death. That was ten?

Audience: Amara!

Jensen: Tomorrow, what? Laura? Oh, Amara.

Jared: [imitates garbling of audience] Yeah, yeah, Amara.

Jensen: Amara, right, Big E Swalls.

Jared: Season twelve?

Audience: Mary!

Jared: Mary was in season one also!

Jensen: Twelve we got mom back, yeah, we got mom back. Oh, that was - was that the scene where I, was that the season where Dean has that confrontation with mom and basically says, says, 'You suck. I blame you.'?

Jared: Yeah, that was rough. Okay, we got - thirteen!

Jensen: That was a hard scene. Alright, great, that was, what was that -

Jared: Twelve.

Jensen: That was twelve. Thirteen! This is - we're just smashing this right now.

Jared: Jaaaaaaack. Al Cal.

Jensen: Jack? Oh, little nekkid boy, yeah.

Jared: Wasn't he in the last scene of the season, though? He was in his undies. Awww? He's a grown adult! I didn't say he was like, naked! He was wearing clothing.

Jensen: Poor Alex. Season fourteen?

Jared: Second to last one. [Jensen laughs] Penultimate, next! Fifteen, I don't remember it again. Um -

Jensen: Wait, fourteen, what happened in fourteen?

Audience: Michael!

Jensen: Michael.

Jared: Is that the air fight?

Jensen: Oh, right, that was the marionette fight. [exaggeratedly imitates a marionette on strings] This is me and Pellegrino's worst moment in our careers. Like just [imitates holding onto another person] holding each other, swinging, going, 'This is it. We'll never work again.' Bob Singer behind the monitor going, 'This is it, I'll never work again - they'll never work again!' [both crack up]

Jared: [gruff voice] 'This is it, they'll never work again.'

Jensen: Season fifteen, rusty rebar. There you go.

Jared: Oh, I love him! Guest star of the year!

Jensen: What? Of all the what? Just a little rusty rebar! That never hurt anybody. Well [holds up one finger] somebody.

Jared: Pie, I think pie in the face, I remember. The wig! [taps Jensen's arm] Yes, that was my I'll never work again! [both laughing]

Jensen: I remember I watched that episode and I was like, 'Ooof. What animal died that they put on his head?'

Jared: It was a Canadian raccoon. It's [???]. Um, yeah, alright, I guess that all wraps it up! Thank you.

Jensen: I need a nap.

Jared: Amen.

[michael-the-rouge]

Thinking about Steddie au 1985 by Bowling for Soup. I can't decide if it's in Steve's POV or Eddie's. Some of the references in the song does fit Steve, but the song as a whole fits Eddie. Let's do from Eddie because it fits a little more in my opinion.

Eddie, who did make some attempt at being a Rockstar but loved Steve. Eddie, who couldn't imagine a life without Steve, decided to stay to be with Steve because Eddie values him more than any other dream. Several years down the road, Steddie has several children. The younger ones still obviously adore Eddie's wild antics, but the older ones going through puberty are pulling away. Eddie, who had a horrible moment when one of the older kids was listening to Ozzy Osborne, told him that "he wouldn't get it since he is a dad." What do they mean, I wouldn't get it? Steve, I should be the first in like who gets it. Steve, I'm still Rockstar cool, right? Steve tries his best to comfort his partner. (They have been together for so long. Gay marriage is freshly legal but they haven't talked about an official wedding yet.) Unfortunately, Steve attempting to comfort Eddie actually turned into an argument where some how Eddie let's slip that he wished he did leave back then and become the Rockstar he always had wanted to be. How Eddie feels he missed out on the rush of being on stage, meeting other artists, maybe by now he could have been on tv if he did leave after high school! Steve knows that Eddie doesn't actually regret staying with him, going to school, becoming a literary and drama teacher, and them having kids. Steve knows that, but it still hurts, and Steve decides to go hang out with Robin for the evening, canceling their date night.

At first, Eddie doesn't get why. Steve knew Eddie always had this dream. He had accepted that it wouldn't happen, but he could still want it, right? Just because he wished he went to Chicago to try and become a famous musician doesn't mean that he doesn't love his life now. Eddie, who starts to think about what would be different. Steve and him would have officially settled much later in life. Even when they officially settle, Eddie would still be going on the road, Steve, at home with the kids. But, if they went that route, who knows if they would even still have their kids. Eddie remembered something Steve said long ago how much it pained him for his parents to leave him behind and would never want that for their kids. That must be why Steve is upset. The fear of their kids feeling abandoned and Eddie wanted to kick himself. Eddie did actually get up and kicked himself before going to each of the kids rooms to check that they were going to bed. The very last one, the child who said he doesn't understand and is uncool, is laying in bed with their head phones on. Eddie gets their attention and let's them know that they should take the headphones off soon so they don't damage it in their sleep and that he loves them. As he is leaving their room, his kid tells him that they're sorry and that they do still think Eddie is cool and if he knew any of the songs on the album they're listening to. Eddie was elated and for the next half hour, they sat on their bed talking about music and artists.

It wasn't until almost an hour later that they heard a cough and knock that the two realized how late it was. Steve was standing at the door smiling and reminded them that it was time for bed. Eddie and their kid groaned but agreed, wishing each other a good night and would pick the conversation back up on the weekend.

When back in the bedroom, Eddie apologized, telling Steve that he didn't mean to imply that he would prefer to be a parent that is hardly around. Eddie loves their kids and does want to be here for every moment. Sure, he would love to tour, but IF that life was possible, it would have been scheduled around the kids. Steve gave him a confused look, then smiled and laughed a little. Steve confesses that when Eddie had said he wished he had gone to Chicago, Steve had taken it that he wished he hadn't stayed to be with him. "You could be out meeting so many amazing people who would have dreams similar to yours. Instead, you stayed and became a dad and a partner."

"Wait, so you thought I would have just left you? "

"Eddie, at the time, Dustin and the others were still in high school. I couldn't just leave."

"Yeah, I know why we stayed. But I think we are miscommunication. I would never ever leave you behind. I didn't leave because I love you more than being famous and playing music across the country. I would never love anything more than I love you. That dream would have only existed if you came with me. Instead, we stayed here to be closer to Dustin and the others. While staying here, we both found enjoyment in careers. By the time they had graduated, we were halfway to being able to afford a home. You wanted to be married and have kids, and all I truly wanted was to be with you."

Steve started to cry, which made Eddie cry. They laid in bed that night going over their own personal wants and desires that didn't include the other or their kids and started to make a plan on how to fulfill their own small selfish dreams.

That might have led to the fact that Eddie got corroded coffin back together for a night so that they could perform at Steve and Eddie's wedding party.

[akookminsupporter]

Hope this isn't taken negatively because I don't mean it as such.. But lately I've come to a conclusion that while I love all 7 of them (with a slightly more particular fondness for the two this blog is on) I'm kind of heavily interested in the artistic directions (career choices) of only 4 of them - jhope jimin rm suga (even though I'm not really a huge rap enthusiast) . Jungkook also used to be on that list but I've been feeling kind of jaded by some of the music choices he's been trying out recently.

Regarding 3d, I think it's an okay song but my main problem lies with Jack Harlow's rap verses.. They're very adjacent to being overtly misogynistic and objectifying. And it's just not something I thought I would hear in a bts member song. Anyway would like to hear your thoughts on the lyrics if you want to share!

If I may I would like to make a few comments on your two points.

On the first point or paragraph: This is totally understandable and something that has been said a lot in this second chapter and definitely has been said several times on this blog. It has been interesting to see the direction their solo projects have taken and how they have handled/planned them. I don't want to say too much yet because although Jungkook has released a few songs, he still hasn't released an album or EP yet and I want to wait and see if anything changes but for some time now I've been thinking that although I share the same taste in music/songs as Jungkook, i.e. the kind of songs he always listens to on Wlives or recommends, his musical direction in this solo stage doesn't exactly go with my musical tastes. I was expecting songs like Still With You or Delcalcomania and that doesn't seem to be the direction he wants to take and that's fine, it's completely my fault for having expectations about something I have no control over.

As for the second point or paragraph: The song is very much to the taste of today's young consumers, especially in markets such as the US. The lyrics of the song are… they don't offer much depth and that's what's in vogue, I think. I think the intention is just to have fun and come up with songs that are catchy, fun and easy to remember, I guess. Jack Harlow's part is… no. I remember a couple of years ago or was it last year? he was quite popular on social media and I never understood the hype, I think a lot of people loved him for his looks and I didn't understand why, I'd never heard a song from him I think and I was surprised that he's a rapper. For a long time, I thought he sang country music. His two verses, and I'm surprised it was 2, are too clichéd and cringy.

[aashiquidreams]

It has been so many months since November when I last gazed into his beautiful big green eyes. I still remember every detail of his handsome face, his beautiful messy hair, and his disarming smile that could melt the coldest heart. His intelligence, his kindness toward others, the way he spoke about the people and things he loved—all these qualities made a lasting impression on me.

Until I met him a few years ago, I didn’t think I’d ever have a huge crush again. There was an undeniable attraction. He could hold my gaze with such intensity, his face so captivating at times. He made me feel seen and good about myself, noticing things about me and expressing them without hesitation. He occasionally made me blush. Even in my most discouraged and bad moods, he managed to make me smile. I always looked forward to seeing him again, even on my worst days.

We first met in 2022, and exactly a year later, I found myself back in the same place where our paths initially crossed. Our connection deepened over time as we spent more time together, and he became an important part of my life for several months.

There were also things about him that occasionally bothered me. He could be moody and somewhat distant or even aloof at times (typical of his Aquarius moon). He noticeably got irritated when other men flirted with me, but I have to admit that it somehow made him more attractive. I appreciate a hint of jealousy and possessiveness in a man, but of course, not in a harmful way. On another note, he shared my tendency to be very energetic and somewhat restless at times—traits typical of a fire sign (him with Aries Sun and me with Leo Sun). Despite these occasional issues, I could easily overlook them because of how charming and handsome he is.

Parting ways in November was, in hindsight, a good thing because I could see myself falling in love with him. The timing wasn’t right, and certain boundaries made it impossible for us to be together. Perhaps this was all it was supposed to be. Maybe he played his part in my journey, but I am glad and thankful he was part of it and helped me reach the next stage. I think of him from time to time—of what he would say, how he used to look at me and sometimes stare at me as if he was studying my face, how we used to joke and laugh, and how he encouraged me and showed me that I was capable of things I never imagined.

He made me enjoy and love something I never thought possible. He was the right person at the right place at the right time in my life. Sometimes, like tonight, I long to see him again, to lose myself in his eyes, and to feel the warmth of his smile once more. Who knows, maybe one day we will meet again. For now, I will cherish his memory and the profound impact he had on my journey.

[autumnslance]

I have a question about carrying out an idea. I think this writing issue I've been having has been plaguing me longer than my time on Mateus; I’ve always struggled to get past chapter one or even stick to an idea, even when I started writing years ago. Are there any pointers on carrying an idea or story through?

That's a hard one, as I know I have plenty of plans and WIPs I haven't gotten past those stages myself.

So I ask myself what's the core of the idea, the heart of it? What is it I really want to say? I don't tend to write chronologically myself; I write lines, descriptions, bits of dialogue, scenes, and chapters entirely out of order. I know where they "go" in the overall arc. And sometimes, like with the Avengret storyline, I can then string them together, shuffling the order, writing new bridging scenes, removing or combining others as needed.

If I am trying to write in order, even then if a section is hard, or boring, or not working--skip it. Put in some brackets with [AND THEN X AND Y HAPPENS AND IT'S NOW THE NEXT DAY]. Move on to the next part that excites you, or that you at least know what happens. You can always double back later and add in that connecting scene...or even decide it isn't needed now, you've covered everything it would have elsewhere, and can just be summarized and moved on from.

I've recently been reading a "How To Write" series of books by James Scott Bell; there are several, but they're all pretty short. One of the pieces of advice he gives is to start in the middle (go to the midpoint of just about any novel or film, and it's somewhere very near that 50% mark in one direction or another). Find the "mirror moment" a point--sometimes a page or paragraph, sometimes just a single line--that is a frank look at the situation, self, etc on the part of the main character. What do they see? It's a moment of reflective truth. Who is the character in this midpoint? How did they get here? Who do they need to be/what must they do to get to the end? How do they realize they may fail? What forces are against them? Do they realize/acknowledge any of this?

These are recommendations more for novels than short stories, but heavens know how long some of our fics go, and short stories do still have similar, if truncated, structures and beats.

Anyway, you're not beholden to write from beginning to end. You may not know everything about your story yet--because you haven't written it yet, and these things change form, even for plotters with outlines. Write scenes. Write chapters. Write microfics that are just a couple lines of dialogue. Use prompt lists and challenges, if you gotta. Start small and build, as one of the old philosophers said.

(and eventually one day you look and realize you've written a few hundred thousand words, many of them about your OC and a Damn Rogue wending through their world...)

Writing works like exercise; you have to practice it, figure out what works for you, at what times of day, and it can be a struggle to keep up momentum. In the meanwhile, you also have to take other care of yourself.

Like actual exercise (whatever you're able to do; at least stretches, which is where I'm at some days). Remembering to eat and stay hydrated, get plenty of sleep (don't @ me, I sleep, just on a later schedule), and also do remember to intake other creative works; I got a rush of inspiration last year and spent months feverishly writing scenes and plotting and writing dialogues and making timeline outlines and writing more pages I'll never use after reading a popular novel, cuz the visceral language and a vaguely similar character dynamic in certain specific ways clicked something on in my brain. We gotta feed that persnickety little muse.

And on the days the muse is being recalcitrant...we write anyway. It's hard, it feels like it sucks, but if we want to get something done? Write something. Anything. Stream of consciousness if you gotta; complain, talk out your ideas, maybe write a little from that. And the next day look at it and realize it's not so bad as you thought and a little polish will fix it.

So don't try to be perfect first round; writing is messy. Revision and editing is where we make it look pretty (you usually don't have to rewrite entirely front to back, either; some folks like to, but for many others that's only if there's serious structure issues; mileage varies per project, too, as they're all different).

So write the scenes out of order, as they come. See what ideas stick and what are just idle thoughts. Maybe they're all true and there's multiverses and AUs there. See what starts t string together into coherence. Don't be afraid to revise, rewrite, even retcon if something better comes along months later after you already posted something.

The only way to know the story is to write it, figuring out how it wants to be written, and sometimes that means writing it from other angles and around the back way until it tells us how it got to that point (and whether what we thought was the start actually was or not).

Anyway. This got long, hopefully there's some tiny tidbit that helps!