#i think the colours might be. um. really bad. but! in every other regard! going great!

[erstwhilesparrow]

i am in a problems-causing mood, a phrase which here probably means i need to do a task and go to bed.

[hansols-yoda-boxers]

Teach Me

Vocal Professor!Solar x Vocal Student!Female Reader

Word Count: 4088

Contents: general unprofessionalism not that you’re complaining, teasing, dom mamamoo, ma’am kink, oral (reader receiving), rough breast play, tribbing, squirting

Terminology: Studio: A thing music students do where you get together with similar instruments and you perform a piece and get feedback on it from you peers and professors. Jury: Final playing test of the year (unless you do a recital), performed fro your music professors and usually a large part of your mark fro your music lessons (it was always at least 50% for me) Aria: A long accompanied song for a solo voice, often from an opera

Notes: This is fun and indulgent for me so I hope at least someone out there likes it too. I expanded the timestamp I did the other day so a lot of what I wrote for that is embedded and expanded here. Also the first fic I’ve done for a girl group which I’m super excited about. I’m so glad I can get back into writing I’ve been missing it so so much thank you all for being patient with me.

Based off these pictures | Expanded from this timestamp | Prologue

You tugged awkwardly at the hem of your sweater, sheet music in hand as you made you way to the end of the hall.

To Dr. Kim’s office.

You could still turn around. How bad could your mark really be? Even if this was your most interesting and technical piece. And you were even more unsure about the other songs. Deep down, you knew this was the best option. Dr. Kim knew what she was talking about and you had heard her sing, she could make you feel so many things with her voice.

And not just because of your silly, schoolgirl crush on her.

You just hoped she didn’t notice it. She could help you with the song and give you some tips for getting into the right mood with it and then send you on your way. Maybe you would even be less nervous and awkward around her after spending some time with her one on one.

“Dr. Kim?” Your voice was steadier than you expected it to be as you stepped into the office.

Dr. Kim looked up at you and smiled. “Come on in, just close the door.”

Something about that made you even more flustered but you did as she said, closing the door and making your way to one of the chairs across from her seat at her desk. You sat awkwardly, too aware of her eyes on you and the heat rising in your skin, praying you didn’t do anything stupid.

“How can I help you?” she asked, setting aside her notes.

“I’m- I’ve been having trouble…” She looked at you curiously. “W-With a song. It’s not- It doesn’t sound right.”

“Do you have it with you?” if she noticed your nervousness she wasn’t letting on. You passed her the sheet music and dropped your gaze. It wasn’t uncommon for operas to cover risque topics so an aria about sex wasn’t a surpirse to you when it landed on your music stand, your very kind and somewhat eccentric vocal professor telling you to sing with the passion only lust can fuel.

And you ultimately failing at that.

You knew what it could sound like but for some reason, when the lyrics left your lips they just sounded so… bland. So vanilla. So sweet and safe and that was not at all what this aria was meant to sound like. You knew what every word meant and where the emphasis should be and yet when you sang it it just sounded a bit hollow.

“You’ve analyzed the lyrics,” she hummed. “I wish all my students did that.”

You shifted awkwardly and mumbled out a “thank you” for the compliment, still not quite daring to look at her face and see her reaction to the silly girl with a silly crush asking her for help with a song about sex.

“What do you need help with?”

“I-I- It’s not, um, passionate enough- w-when I sing it…”

Dr. Kim stood up. “Well let me hear it. I assume you came up here warmed up?”

She wasn’t wrong. You figured she would have you sing and help you work on it but you were still far more flustered than you should have been. She’d heard you sing before but in studio, in front of everyone, not when it was just the two of you in her office. It seemed so much more intimate.

Or maybe you were just reading into it way too much.

She placed your music on the stand and you moved closer, knowing your body had far too much tension. Her hands hovered over your shoulders and a light “May I?” passed her lips to which you nodded in agreement far too quickly. You missed the grin that tugged at her lips at that as she placed her hands on your shoulders, coaxing you to relax and sliding them down your back a bit to fix your posture. 

“Relax,” her voice was too soft, you thought, or maybe you were thinking too much. “Otherwise it’s not going to sound any better.”

You took a few deep breaths, relaxing your body and getting yourself into a position to sing before nodding and focusing on the sheet music as she moved to the piano to give you your first note and chord.

The first few words fell from your lips, feeling as if they were falling limply to the floor. Maybe you were still too tense, or maybe you just didn’t know how to sound lustful and passionate, but the words were right, the notes were correct, your breath was well placed and the phrases were sound.

And it still sounded hollow, still empty and boring.

“Okay,” Dr. Kim’s voice cut you off and you let your notes die away as you looked at her nervously. “You’re not feeling the lyrics at all.” She stated.

“I know what they mean,” you mumbled. “I know how they’re supposed to sound…”

“It’s not about how they're supposed to sound,” she said. You threw her a curious look and she continued. “Listening to other performances is useful yes, but if you base your performance directly off of the ones you’ve seen it’s going to lack feeling and meaning.”

You felt yourself wilting, that was definitely a large part of what you’d been doing. But you weren’t sure how to do this any other way. Nothing worked when you tried to just… be passionate.

“So, I- How do I…?” your voice drifted off as Dr. Kim rested back against her desk.

“Surely something makes you excited.”

You felt heat rush through you as her words sank in. You held your mouth shut, not trusting anything that might come out of it as you toyed with the hem of your shirt and she regarded you, looking over your body.

No, looking over your posture. Surely just your posture.

“Whatever it is,” she hummed, too smoothly. “Harness that. Just knowing what the words mean isn’t enough to move people with your voice. You need to feel them.”

You nodded, hoping you didn’t look too awkward as you turned back to your sheet music. She watched as you took a deep breath and let it out slowly before giving you your starting note and moving closer to you.

It wasn’t amazing, but it was better. Something much more potent was stirring inside you as you sang, something painting the words a certain colour. There was a feeling swirling in the tone as it left your lips and it was a step in the right direction.

Dr. Kim shifted, moving closer to you and you heard your lungs suck in a wayward breath where they weren’t meant to. She moved close to you, looking at the music over your shoulder. Her hand landed gently on your stomach, guiding your breathing, and doing nothing to help the heat that was rushing between your legs.

Your voice shifted more, sounding much more like you had wanted it to sound in the first place. You heard Dr. Kim hum slightly, her other hand landing on your back and coaxing your shoulders to relax from where they had started to tense up. She was so close to you now and your head was nearly spinning as your need began to grow from such simple contact. She didn’t cut you off this time, letting you sing until you came to the end of the section, a small instrumental break now filling the room with silence as you waited for her verdict, feeling dizzy.

“Now that was better,” her voice was smoother and deeper than it had been, you were sure of it.

“I-It’s- uh-” you could barely form words as she moved to stand next to you. You found yourself taking a few steps back and sitting in the chair to calm the beating of your heart and praying she hadn’t noticed how warm you were being so close, that she didn’t put two and two together as to what had made your singing that much better.

Dr. Kim moved in front of you, something in her gaze. Something far less professional, you were sure of it.

Or maybe you were still reeling from the contact.

“That was a step in the right direction,” she hummed. “But I think you can do a little better than that.”

Your eyes flicked up to meet her, heart beating out of your chest at the thought of doing that again, of singing with her hands on your body, so tantalizing close to where you wanted them. That might make you too dizzy. That might make your silly crush far too obvious, particularly when you were already reading too far into her actions, her voice.

“I-I’ll work on it,” you stumbled out as she leaned down slightly.

“What I said must have piqued something, must have brought some image to mind.” You resisted the urge to let your eyes dip to look at her fingers, far more lewd images starting to fill your mind. “But you’re not letting yourself really feel the emotions. You’re holding back.”

“I-I- How sh-should-” you clamped your mouth shut before your shaky voice could betray you further.

Her eyebrow quirked and a smirk tugged at her lips. “You have the technical skill, but you need to learn to marry that with your emotion, and to be more in touch with them.”

“Teach me?”

You didn’t expect the words to sound so flirtatious, nearly edging on desperate, nor for your voice to come out so breathy. Dr. Kim leaned down, her hands resting on the arms of the chair and her smirk growing.

“Teach you to be in touch with your emotions?” she asked. You swallowed thickly, sure she was toying with you now. “Is that what you’re asking?”

“I-I- you do it s-so well w-when you sing,” your voice was a mess as you forced out your thoughts.

Her eyes trailed over your body slowly, more heat rushing through you and your thighs pressing together as subtly as possible.

“Then you need to be aware of them,” she brought a finger to your chin, bringing your gaze to meet her eye and grinning at the way your breath hitched. “So tell me, what are you feeling right now?”

“H-Heat,” you didn’t think about the word before it left your lips. It was a little strangled and it drew a chuckle from her lips.

“I could have guessed it was something like that,” she purred. “But I think you can find a better name for it.”

Your heart skipped a beat and your hips shifted as your hands gripped the arms of the chair. Expectation and anticipation hung in the air as you toyed with the word behind your lips, unsure if you wanted to admit it, but feeling as if she was drawing it out of you.

“Arousal.”

You wanted, at once, to squeeze your eyes shut and to watch her reactions, but you followed through with the latter. There was no surprise on her face, instead her expression growing more smug at your admission.

“I’m glad you could name it,” she teased. “But are you really in tune with it?” Your breath hitched as she leaned in, her hand slipping off the arm of the chair and down to your lap, gently pressing between your legs as her lips brushed against your ear. “Or are you holding back with that as well?”

A whimper passed your lips but you let your legs part for her hand, feeling her smirk against you before her lips began to press kisses to the hollow beneath your ear. Her hand moved under your skirt easily and her skilled fingers began rubbing slow circles, finding your clit within seconds.

“Such a good girl,” she cooed, drawing more whimpers from your lips. “And already so wet for me.”

“Y-Yes ma’am,” you didn’t mean for the words to leave your lips but they had long stopped listening to you, letting your thoughts spill out too easily.

“I like the sound of that,” her voice was like velvet and it made you dizzy as you took in the sensations, the way she touched your body.

You rolled your hips against her hand, sparks of pleasure igniting inside you from her touch. Your head rested back against the chair as she left open mouthed kisses against your neck, finding the most sensitive spots as her lips moved their way lower.

Her free hand found the hem of your shirt and began to tug it up and you let her pull it off you, all too eager to be rid of it and feel her lips on your hot skin. She began to kiss down your body, heavy, panting breaths already leaving your lips as she moved closer to the tops of your breasts, barely taking in how her fingers had slipped up to your hips and where pulling your panties off your body.

You arched towards her as her lips sucked a dark mark into the top of your breast. Her hands slipped up your thighs and to your hips, pushing your legs apart as she pressed closer to you. She teased you, mouthing at you through your bra but not taking it off and smirking at how you whined and pressed towards her before moving her lips lower.

Only as her lips reached the waist of your skirt did your breath start to hitch. You looked down at her, excited and nervous all at once as her hands gently pulled your hips forward to the edge of the chair.

“Remember,” she hummed. “You have to relax and let yourself feel.”

“Yes ma’am,” you replied, nearly breathless.

“Good girl,” she smirked, pushing your skirt up and tucking it into the waistband.

You let out a shaky breath, your moan nearly hiding within, as she dragged her tongue through your folds. The warm, wonderful sensation sent pleasure rushing through you and curling into your core. You let your body relax back against the chair as you started to move your hips slowly, following the ministrations of her tongue.

Dr. Kim drew her tongue through your folds slowly, starting at your entrance, teasing you by dipping inside, before flattening and dragging up over your clit. Each movement drew increasingly louder moans from your lips. Her movements built the feeling inside of you, lust and arousal mixing with pleasure and curling in your core.

You peeked down at her and it only served to make you moan and buck your hips against her face. Her gaze was trained up on you, taking in your reactions and her eyes were brimming with lust. Her tongue moved slowly, taking her time in making you come undone but the fire in her gaze told you she had something in mind beyond just making you cum.

The thoughts swirling in your head only mixed with her gaze and her steady motions and louder moans started to pour from your lips as you ground against her. She held your hips more firmly, moving a little faster but still not too fast, enjoying how you squirmed and whined for her and seeing the desperation rise in you.

“Please,” you moaned, hips bucking up as she sucked your clit harshly between her lips.

Dr. Kim hummed in response, the vibrations rocking through your core and drawing yet another moan from your lips, along with a curse as your thighs started to tremble.

“F-F- please, please,” you panted, moving your hips as much as her grip would allow as she started to drag her tongue over your clit again, much faster than before. The coil in your core curled tighter and tighter as she brought you closer and closer to your edge, finding just the way to move her tongue to have you shaking.

The “pleases” falling from your lips became like a chant or mantra as she brought you closer to your high. Your hands gripped at the arms of the chair and your back arched off as your hips ground against her face. You felt your legs shaking as they started to press in around her head as she sucked your clit between her lips again.

She moaned, drawing her tongue over your sensitive bud. Moans and gasps fell from your lips as your release crashed over you. Your hips bucked against her face as you rode out your orgasm, pleasure coursing through your body and making every inch of you shake.

Her lips dipped lower, catching your release on her tongue and moaning at your taste as she played with your sensitive core. Your moans turned to whimpers as your body shook and ragged breaths left your lips as she stood in front of you, lips glistening with your release.

You reached out to her and gripped the front of her vest, pulling her closer with all your strength. It was the only moment in which you surprised her, catching the mix of surprise and amusement on her face before she crashed against you. Your lips found hers and the slight chuckle she had let out died quickly as you kissed her feverishly, shaky hands tugging at and pulling at her buttons.

She let you undo the buttons, shrugging off her vest and only breaking her kiss with you to pull off her shirt. She rested on her knees on the edge of the chair as your hands gripped at her body, desperately pulling her close to you, the taste of yourself on her lips making your head spin and easily building your need again.

She moaned, much more earnestly, much more heatedly, as she slipped her tongue past your lips. You let her into your mouth easily, moaning and mewling desperately at the feeling as she explored your mouth and her tongue found your own, her kisses deep, keeping your body shaking longer as you finally settled from your high. Your unsteady hands found the zipper on her skirt and undid it, slipping it down her hips.

She slipped back off the chair, pulling you with her and not breaking the kiss. Her hands slid around your back and you moaned into her mouth as she undid your bra and it fell to the floor. Her hands slid down to grab at your ass, grinning into your kiss as you whined at the contact and pressed against her. Her fingers found the zipper and undid it, letting it fall as well. She pulled you towards the desk before reaching back to push off the books on the edge of it.

You gasped as she pushed you down onto the desk. Heat rose to the surface of your skin as you took in her heated gaze, chest rising and falling in heavy breaths and suddenly so aware of how she looked at you, taking in your bare form, legs slightly spread and her eyes landing on your core. You squirmed and whined and she smirked at you, leaning down and smoothing her hands over your thighs.

“You look so pretty like this,” she hummed. “And you’re so good for me. Do you want a little more?”

You nodded, a shy grin tugging at your lips. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good girl,” she smirked.

You kept your eyes on her as she stepped back and hooked her fingers into the waist of her panties. You caught your bottom lip between your teeth as she slid them down her body slowly, teasing you with her gaze as she did so. She took her time stepping out of them and moved towards you before her hands found your thighs again.

You let out a pitiful whine, arousal and anticipation rushing through you as she spread your legs, pushing one down to rest on the desk and setting your other foot on the desk, your leg up in the air. You watched her, utterly desperate and transfixed as she moved onto the desk, letting her hands trail over your thighs before moving to straddle your core.

She threw you a lust filled grin as she lowered herself against you, wrapping her arms around your upright leg to stabilize herself. A content hum left her lips as she ground her core against your subtly but it was nothing to the desperate moan that left your lips as you grabbed at her thigh for purchase.

“Are you sensitive?” she teased, grinding down harder.

“Mhm,” you whimpered as sparks ignited within you again.

“Can you still be a good girl for me?” she cooed.

“Yes ma’am,” it came out as a gasp as she picked up the pace with her hips, grinding down against you hard and fast.

“Perfect,” her voice was breathier as she spoke and beautiful quiet moans followed off her lips as she moved.

The pleasure was unmatched. Your previous sensitivity only heightened everything, her moans hitting your ears, the scent of sex that filled the room, her grip on your thigh and her wet core grinding against yours, creating the most lewd sounds imaginable. It all made your head spin and your eyes started to slip shut as the bliss took over your body.

You felt one of her hands leave your thigh and her fingertips trailed up your stomach, to your chest, the sweet feeling contrasting the roughness of her hips. But the sweetness was short lived as she pinched one of your nipples between her fingers and tugged roughly.

You gasped, eyes flying open and gripping her more strongly, letting out pitiful moans as she played roughly with your sensitive nipple, her hips keeping their quick pace and your growing arousal only making the both of you wetter.

“Keep your eyes open,” her voice was a little rougher, more demanding, and it had you clenching and bucking up against her.

She grinned. “You like it when I’m rough with you, don’t you?”

“Y-Yes ma’am,” the words were a quiet gasp as you struggled to keep your eyes open, the coil in your core tightening more and more every second.

“Good girl,” she dragged her nails over your chest, watching the way you arched up and moaned for her from the sensation. Her fingers kept coming back to your nipples, tugging and rolling them roughly and quickly and grinning at the way your hips buck up as you ground against her as best you could.

Pleasure built higher within you, tightening and bringing you closer and closer to your edge and it had you grabbing at her even more tightly, whimpering and moaning as she moved. You squeezed her thigh in a silent plea to go a little faster, only for her to slow slightly, her lips pulling into a smirk.

“Do you want to cum again?”

“Please,” you moaned.

“You can do better than that,” she said, tugging roughly at one of your nipples again.

“P-Please ma’am, please make me c-cum. I n-need to cum so badly, y-you fuck me so well it feels so good p-please I-I’m so close.”

“Good girl,” she hummed low, her hips picking up and grinding down into your even harder than before, riding the motions of your hips as you bucked and rolled up against her. She pinched and tugged your nipples roughly, the nails of her other hand digging into your thigh, her low moans finally throwing you over your edge.

You cried out, bucking up as your orgasm crashed over you like a wave. Every inch of your body shook as pleasure overtook you and she kept moving against your sensitive clit. She let out a much louder moan as she came, a warm liquid gushing over your core and her thighs shaking slightly.

You panted as you came down from your high. She moved closer, shifting so she could lay on top of you and pressing a kiss to your lips, leaving a thigh between your legs if only to tease you and grind on you subtly in the aftershocks of your orgasms.

“Such a good girl,” she cooed, caressing your face and smiling at you. “You made me squirt.”

You whimpered in response, weakly pulling her closer and kissing her. She chuckled against your lips, kissing you back gently until you broke the kiss to catch your breath. She sat up just enough to gaze down at your body.

“Now I’m excited to hear you sing,” she hummed, bringing her fingertip under your chin. “I hope to hear the song sound a little better. If not though, you’ll be back for more lessons?”

“Yes ma’am.”

[misiwrites]

Beyblade Week Day 3

for the third @beybladeweek2021​ oneshot set in the 4kingdoms-verse, i have a silly little story from the west. takes place at some random point before the beginning of the main fic.

~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~

Fashion / Flowers / Autumn

“Underplates… napkins… saucers… and the cup handles to the right.”

Mathilda places each piece of the set with meticulous care. After the cups and cutlery are in place, she arranges the jam and cream dish on the tray, and then, of course, the centrepiece of the table, the golden cake stand for the treats.

“Handmade by Sir Olivier!”

She giddily sets the macarons and finger sandwiches on the stand. Then a freshly brewed pot of black tea from the kitchen, and everything is ready to go. Her butterfly heart flutters with nervous excitement as she carefully lifts the heavy tray and slowly makes her way out of the servants’ quarters. She has to focus on each and every step to avoid making any silly mistakes that could end up in a tea-stained catastrophe.

It’s a lovely day in early Harvestmoon. Pleasant and still, perfect for having tea outside – not something that could be said about most days in the Country of West, usually so drizzly and grey.

Whatever the weather, Mathilda never grows tired of the beauty of the Tiger Maple Palace, and although acting as a maid isn’t exactly part of the royal page’s routine and the tray is so heavy that it leaves her arms sore, it’s an honour to be asked to serve afternoon tea to her favourite guests at the palace, Lady Chen Mao and her handmaid Julia from the mansion on Kuí.

She finds them under a canopy of branches of blazing orange and yellow, hunched over some papers and magazines on the patio floor. Mao’s holy beast companion, Galux, is having a nap on its designated cushion a few feet away.

“But there are so many different types of zan zi… Oh, look, the tea has arrived!”

Mao is stunning as always. The wide sleeves of her blue-and-orange ruqun dress billow along as she jumps to her feet; she wears her rose colour hair on two long braids today, their shape resembles chains of traditional Western paper lanterns, and Mathilda has no doubt that the style is in accordance with the latest trends of high fashion in this kingdom. The handmaid, Julia, is more composed than Mao and rises to her feet with more dignity, politely nodding at Mathilda who approaches them with the tray.

“Good afternoon, Lady Mao, Miss Fernández,” Mathilda greets them, her cheeks slightly flushed. Relief washes over her as she successfully lands the tray on the garden table. No casualties this time, and the tea is still hot.

“Hi, Matty! Is it okay if I call you Matty? It was Julia’s idea.” Like a robin, Mao soars over to the table, then quickly turns to face her handmaid. “Jules, bring the papers here so we can keep planning while eating.”

When Mao is distracted instructing Julia, Mathilda hurries over to pull a chair out for her. “Um, um, feel free to call me as you wish, milady.”

“Aren’t you one considerate sweetheart, Matty! And how lovely the tea looks! Are these macarons by Olivier again? He’s such a weirdo – I’ve never heard of a knight who’s also a cook before, not to mention a damn pastry chef! Sword in one hand, a rolling pin in the other, how reassuring.”

Mathilda says nothing; hearing Mao talk about her master in such a manner always makes her ears burn, but she can’t not admire her audacious nature all the same. That boyish edge in Mao’s behaviour must have rubbed off on her from her older brother, the Duke of Kuí, whom Mathilda has always found nothing short of intimidating.

As Julia joins Mao, Mathilda can see that the papers she has brought along include several volumes of fashion-related magazines and what look like blueprints for a fashion design project of some sort. She tries not to snoop too much, not wanting to cross her boundaries as an outsider, but she hasn’t even finished pouring the two cups full when Mao is already deliberately pulling her into the conversation.

“So about the zan zi – I was thinking I’d want it to follow the flower theme, but I don’t really want there to be too much gold… you know… and a chai would be a bit meh… Matty, what  kind of hair ornaments do you like?”

“Me? Oh…” Mathilda, who always wears her hair short and simple, racks her brain for an answer of any substance. “Well, um… um... Oh, I went to the Tianguan market square earlier this week, and there was a stall with wonderful flower zan zi from the East… made of fabric… The vendor said that they were created to commemorate the Seiryuu-ou’s late mother… They looked very lovely.”

“From the East? That’s an amazing idea!” Mao darts a triumphant look at Julia across the table. “That’s really unique! You should go check them out with Matty.”

“Of course, milady.”

“But tea comes first, obviously.”

Mathilda ends up spending a long while with the other girls in the garden, leafing through the magazines and following along in curious silence as they (mainly Mao, although she clearly holds Julia’s opinions about fashion in high regard) build their design piece by piece, element by element, carefully considering each detail to complement the big picture. Mao is sketching the design on paper herself as they go, and it’s obvious to Mathilda that she’s quite used to doing this kind of thing.

“Lady Mao,” she asks after a while, “are you perhaps planning to launch your own fashion line? A whole catalogue? You are very good at design.”

“Wow, thank you! You know, that’s actually an amazing idea!” Mao claps her hands together in excitement, her golden eyes positively sparkling at Mathilda. “Let’s make a whole line! This lotus daxiushan can be the first one. Oh, oh, Jules, we need to do the hair next!”

“Glad you brought that up, milady, I actually have several styles bookmarked that I thought you might like.” Julia whips out a HoloPad, and soon the mid-air above the tea set is filled with an array of images of the most intricate braidwork that Mathilda has ever seen, so fantastical that it’s hard to believe that these are photos of real people’s hair. (Perhaps they are not.)

“Oh my cats. Jules, you are the best.”

Mathilda chuckles in content and delight, her hands nested in her lap. These two girls are so entertaining and so eccentric, she never knew the nobles could be this fun. She enjoys their company so much – perhaps a bit too much, even, for someone in her position...

But, for now, she decides to simply go with the flow and worry about it later.

 * * *  * * *

 “Mao, what is this?”

“Shhh! Stop talking, you’re ruining the image! Stay totally still. Be like... what was the word again? Esoteric! You need to look esoteric, Rei-nii.”

Rei has no idea how a person is supposed to look esoteric, especially when he’s forced to stand still while posing in whatever unnatural stances Mao keeps coming up with, currently holding what he thinks is some sort of traditional brass instrument but the name of which he has no idea about.

The only reason he even agreed to a fashion photoshoot was that it’s Mao’s birthday and he wanted to please his childhood friend – but he wasn’t aware that in doing so, he agreed to a day-long session of acting as a doll designed by Mao and her handmaid, in a studio that they have somehow managed to build inside one of the pavilions of Tiger Maple, complete with several landscape backdrops.

It’s not that the clothes Mao is making him wear are bad; in fact, this outfit of a burgundy yichang dress and a dark blue daxiushang robe with a serpent-like lotus pattern adorning the broad yet lightweight sleeves feel rather comfortable in comparison to his usual formal robes that have an unnecessary abundance of coating, thanks to whoever in the past decided that the number of layers was a status symbol and therefore imposing a life sentence of drowning in a sea of layered silk upon the Byakko-ou... but the uncomfortably tight lace braids winding around his skull to form an enormous rosette of hair in the back of his head are a bit too much, as are the flower hairpins that nest above his temples and create a drooping curtain of red and white petals to frame his face; and, after several hours have already gone by, his arms and feet are beginning to hurt from standing still while holding whatever prop items the girls are sticking in his hands, from parasols to flutes and swords and whatever this newest addition is. He’s not used to standing around this much in his monotonous everyday life.

And even worse, Rei has already seen that Mao has an entire catalogue of self-made fashion concepts waiting that she wants to take pictures of him in.

The smallest of sighs escapes Rei’s lips. This doesn’t feel appropriate for his status. Incredible but true, he wishes he was instead having tea with Olivier right now.

“Stay still!” Mao immediately condemns him, “And stop looking so bored! You need to look more dramatic. You’re the king, Rei-nii, act more like it.”

What a long, long day this would end up being.

[hideawayintheimaginationworld]

I adore your fazbear fright house au and would love to hear of lefty fixes bonbon for funtime Freddy but of course take your time that's just my suggestion for the boredom thing

Funtime Freddy knew he had been outside all night, he was sitting with his back against the house, his eyes shifted focus from place to place, like this garden outside, obviously which was not to be disturbed by him, he didn’t know if Lefty was the one who planted things or if this was someone else's place to do things. He knew Millie wasn't the only one living here, he didn’t bother to remember everyone, he remembered that kid Alec because he had the audacity to drop a stack of plates on his head once, he also knew about Sarah because of Eleanor mentioning her in every sentence, like it was an obsession.

Funtime Freddy always thought she was slightly creepy.

He preferred Ballora honestly.

Actually, he hadn’t seen her in years.

He couldn’t hear anything inside the house despite he knew he was outside of the kitchen, he didn’t know what Lefty was doing inside that house generally, he had seen enough of Lefty to know coming in uninvited was a big mistake. He couldn’t tell if Lefty locked him outside, he was slightly wary if he tried to open the door, he'd be met with an angry black bear.

The only thing that bothered him was how lonely BonBon might be. He hadn’t seen BonBon in years and he just gave them to Lefty, with a possible loosely veiled promise of repair. He would have liked to keep him but he wouldn’t argue with Lefty.

Dark had turned to light, he watched the sunrise above, lighting everything, seeing everything in a new light, he could see a tree that was showing flowers, the flowers themselves were coloured bright red, this whole garden appeared well kept, he could see the grass on the ground was cut down to size.

The sun had brought everything into perspective, how much time passed, and where he was exactly in this world.

He had always thought of the sun as a clock, being able to tell roughly the correct time by looking at its position high in the sky, a skill he had with some pride.

He started to wonder how long it would take, and how long he'd be outside for, he wouldn’t leave without BonBon at this point, he felt like an unreachable goal was now within his grasp and he didn’t want it pulled away now.

But the anxiety was killing him in a way.

The door finally opened and Funtime Freddy hurriedly got to his feet and backed away, Lefty came outside, he looked at Funtime Freddy almost inquisitively, “I thought you would run away. You've been outside for over 12 hours.”

“Not without BonBon,” Funtime Freddy answered.

“Well you've been out here for hours, I didn’t even think you'd sit still.”

“I have some self-control.”

“Not a hell of a lot though Funtime,” Lefty sneered, closing the door and standing near the doorway, clearly so he could go back inside quickly just in case, Funtime Freddy always noticed people would like to stand near the door whenever they were around him as a means to get away quickly, which indicated just how well-liked he was.

“Have you looked at BonBon?” Funtime Freddy asked him.

“Not really, it's a normal day for me, I haven’t gotten a spare minute until now, I wanted to see what you were doing.”

“Nothing!”

Funtime Freddy to Lefty sounded like a whiny child, which he had heard plenty of those, Funtime Freddy's voice, in particular, was grating to his ears.

“I need parts.”

“What?”

“I need parts to fix BonBon,” Lefty further explained, “And tools, ideally I'd need new parts, I don’t even know if some of the parts I might need are still being made.”

“That doesn’t really matter.”

“Yes, yes it does. We aren’t from the same generation, your exoskeleton is made of coiled wires that bend and move like snakes under the skin, my body is an advanced exoskeleton that is tough to break, you have a chest cavity, I don’t.”

“Wait you don’t?” Funtime Freddy frowned, he assumed because Lefty was just as big as him that he had some sort of storage tank in his abdomen somewhere.

“No, I don't,” Lefty repeated.

“What have you got then?”

“A lot of complicated mechanisms, that all simultaneously work around the clock, Henry builds the most advanced machines, the only reason why I can’t ever get rid of you for good is that William made you have almost the same strength level as me. Henry made us with the intentions to act as security guards.”

“How do we know Henry didn’t copy anybody?” Funtime Freddy asked.

Lefty turned sour, “You're asking that despite what you are? We aren’t the same. You are a dressed-up cage for children basically,” He jabbed his finger at his chest.

Funtime Freddy looked at his finger poking at him, then he looked at the house and remembered something.

“Speaking of children....”

“At school,” Lefty answered immediately, “They're all out of the house, I told them about what happened.”

“Even... Millie?” Funtime Freddy asked, not knowing if this was a question he shouldn’t be asking.

“Yes, I don’t want her safety threatened by your presence, I have a set of rules regarding her and the other kids that I want you to obey.”

Funtime Freddy should have expected this.

“Don't talk about death, ever, I don’t care if it's hypothetical or you think it's funny, you're not funny, no one wants to hear that,” Lefty said.

“Okay.”

“Do not ever enter the house unless you are invited in, and I only want you downstairs, you can be in the garage, do not go upstairs ever, if I catch you up there, I will throw you downstairs.”

“What if I have to?”

Lefty frowned, “What? Why would you need to?”

“Say Eleanor shows up, for that other girl... um, Sarah right?” Funtime Freddy suggested.

Lefty was silent before responding: “Then come to my room, it's the first room, do not go into anyone else's room, especially Millie's, are you clear now?”

“Yep.”

“This should go without saying but I know because of how much a nuisance you can be if you even make a threat to anyone, this little deal we have, is null and void.”

“Understood!” Funtime Freddy gave him a thumbs up.

“If I can’t fix BonBon, then you need to accept it.”

Funtime Freddy's happy demeanour dropped, “What?? But-”

“You aren’t modern neither is BonBon, there is a chance BonBon will require parts that are now obsolete,” Lefty explained.

Funtime Freddy shook his head, “Then I'll look in the Scrap Yard, I've found all kinds of things there, I could find–”

“I understand you want BonBon fixed, but this isn’t a guarantee, and I'm holding you to our deal, I will be fair, I expect you to be also.”

Funtime Freddy gave a smile, he saw Lefty immediately narrowed his eyes at him, so he stopped smiling.

“You are covered in filth,” Lefty told him, “Would you protest to being cleaned up?”

Funtime Freddy shook his head, he knew he hadn’t been washed in years, he knew Lefty was probably getting cleaned regularly, as he didn’t even have so much as a bad smell on him and he appeared very well groomed from top to bottom, Funtime Freddy knew he was covered in dust, dirt and other stains like paint, grease, and oil.

Lefty turned and opened the door, he then stepped aside, “Come in, but when I say leave, go back outside, no complaining.”

Funtime Freddy didn’t push his luck with a snide remark, he sped walked inside, Lefty closed the door and Funtime Freddy looked around more in the kitchen.

His eyes briefly rested on the knife block, before realising that looked bad so he looked at the dining table instead, seeing a folded newspaper there, along with a black coffee mug, which he presumed was Lefty's.

Funtime Freddy then looked around, he expected to hear something else aside from his exoskeleton loudly creaking and shifting with the movements of his neck— he could honestly do with a slight maintenance check, but it wasn’t urgent.

“Are you the only one home?” Funtime Freddy knew he said the kids were out but he knew some adults were living here too.

“Matt's bedridden, he picked up some sort of virus, he's been throwing up everything he eats, Stanley had the day off and said he'd deal with him, and Delilah been spending time with this new man she met, means I can catch up on some chores, then have some tea.”

“The kids don’t do any chores?” Funtime Freddy questioned the situation.

“They do the simple stuff, like washing dishes, washing clothes, mopping the floor... I mean the more intense chores, like cleaning all the carpets which usually takes a few hours, cleaning the oven...” Lefty explained.

“What can I do?”

“Sit in the kitchen, be silent, I'll clean up stuff.”

“What about BonBon?”

“I'll get around to it later,” Lefty shrugged, “If I have time.”

“BonBon isn’t an it.”

“Whatever, the thing is valuable to you, not me.”

Funtime Freddy felt offended by that, and he countered, “It's the same as you and Millie! You look out for her!”

Lefty stared at him coldly before answering, “You do realise you just compared your relationship to what is your friend to that of me and the girl you traumatised? Do you not realise my point of view now? You are the monster that terrorises her, Millie is still a child, her parents are overseas, her grandfather is elderly and he can't protect her from you, she hides behind me because of fear, oh but you wouldn’t know what real fear feels like? Would you?”

Funtime Freddy went silent, he then walked over the dining table and sat down on one of the chairs, he felt completely uncomfortable.

[plutoismydaddy]

I can read you like a book 4

Jimin x reader Gangster au

In the midst of a gang war Jimin finds himself in his own war. A war between himself and the feelings he was developing for the girl with the fuzzy pink scarf.

CH1 CH2  CH3 CH4 CH5

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

“All of a sudden?” Seokjin furrowed his eyebrows “All of a sudden!” you repeated, “He was all fine, and then he flipped all of a sudden saying something about wasting our time or whatever.”. You leaned back in your seat, trying to not burst with anger. The car stopped in front of a red light and Seokjin turned to you “Believe it or not, but this is not something Jimin does. He might be a bit impulsive, but he never gives up just because it’s boring.”. Seokjin shook his head lightly as he spoke “Are you sure you didn’t say something?” you felt a slight pang in your heart at the accusation “No, nothing. We were laying in silence, but as soon as that girl, I don’t know her fucking name, walked in he decided that he had enough.”. “That girl?” a honk sounded from the car behind you, looking at the light the two of you realised it had turned green. “There is this one girl that visits the den regularly. She seems to be important or something just based on how people react to her and how many attend the meetings when she does.”. “Do you have any info on her?” reaching into your bag you pulled out your camera “No, she was actually the reason I wanted to go today, I got some good pictures. We might finally get something on her.” the last words fell quietly from your lips. Seokjin’s eyes flickered from the road to you scrolling through the pictures”...When did Jimin say he didn’t want to go back?” still concentrated on the photos you answered with a simple “Yesterday”. “But he was there today?” your finger stopped pressing the buttons, you had almost forgotten about that. A sigh fell from both your lips simultaneously “God my head.” the man beside you groaned and buried his face in his hands after parking the car. Sitting in silence, the two of you seemed in a trance as you stared into space. “Can I see the pictures?” you placed the camera in his open hand, “I couldn’t get a shot on her face but the jewellery her body might help”. “Were gonna see if we can find the jeweller and then see all the customers that have bought similar pieces?” you nodded slightly “exactly”.  

You had texted Jimin telling him you couldn’t meet him the coming week because you had to work overtime at the cafe, you physically cringed in pain at the sad response you had gotten, but you had to lie. There was no other way to explain why you would spend the whole week with Seokjin. Taking a deep breath, you returned your attention to the picture on your laptop, staring back at you was the belly chain the hooded person wore. You clicked to the next image, this time their feet appeared, the coal-black boot’s heel was covered with a golden plate. The buckle on the side held the same symbol as the one hanging from the waist chain, a golden tiger head with piercing deep blue eyes. You could probably draw it in your sleep with how many times you had stared at it. Trying to google the small charms that hung from the gold chain, resulted in nothing. But this wasn’t any bad news, the fact that it wasn’t known enough to come up on google meant that it was most likely handmade and maybe even requested. Your phone buzzed from beside you, your heart jumped for a moment at the thought of Jimin, but it was only Seokjin. 

Your eyes traced the jewellery laying under the glass, you had entered the jewellery shop alone, but you knew Seokjin didn’t leave you with his gaze. “You have some beautiful pieces” you spoke still pretending to be intrigued by the glittering metal “Thank you, we get everything by the best of the best” the woman spoke pride lacing her voice. “Is there anything specific you’re looking for?” the woman continued, you looked up at her. “Maybe a gold waist chain” the red-painted lips of the jeweller stretched into a smile “mmm, a waist chain” she walked eyes peering through the glass onto the jewellery. “A great way for a woman to show off her curves” you let out an embarrassed chuckle “But unfortunately we don’t have any” her lips slightly curled down as she spoke. “Oh”, this was going to take forever, you sighed in your head. 

Seokjin chuckled at the huff that fell from your lips as you plopped down in the car closing the car door, “Nothing?” you leaned your head back “Nothing.”. The vehicle hummed as Seokjin started the car “Well, it’s only the first store.”. Despite Seokjin’s optimism, the day ended the same as it had begun, fruitless. “Let’s just give up for today” Seokjin sighed beside you, as you rubbed warmth into your hands, you only nodded in response. 

Watching the street lights pass over the car you pulled out your phone, opening the messaging app, you felt disappointment, flood your stomach. Jimin’s face engulfed your mind, you hadn’t seen or heard from him in so long. A warm burning feeling creepy up your chest and tightened your throat, you swallowed trying to blink away the tears, what was going on? Were you really getting attached to a person you had only known for barely a month? Slowly sinking into your seat you swallowed again, he clearly didn’t care about you, the two of you were only colleagues, more images flashed in your head Jimin smiling and laughing. He didn’t care about you.

You stretched your arms, your fingertips grazing against the warm roof of the car, you watched the storefronts fly by outside your window, It was a new day, and hopefully, you would finally find something.

You bounced to the car, “Ooo.” Seokjin’s eyebrows rose as he turned towards you in interest, closing the car door behind you, you mirrored Seokjin “I found her.” you smirked at Seokjin. The man stared back at you, his face twisted in confusion, “The girl in the picture?”, you shook your head “No...but I found out where she bought her jewellery.”. You handed him a small white paper, the black ink spelling out the address. “The lady might be working for the Balck Doves or is at least close to them so we should be careful” Seokjin nodded pressing down the gas pedal.

“I’m coming with you” Seokjin spoke from beside you, the car parked beside a cafe not far from the jewellery shop, you simply nodded sensing this would be a bit different from the stress you visited before. The two of you stepped out of the car and walked towards the small store, you closed the space between you and the man beside you arms bumping against each other “We don’t know if she works with them or not, so we should probably keep this short” your voice was low as you spoke eyes not leaving the store. “I’ll leave the talking to you,” Seokjin whispered back. The bell let out a cheerful shout as Seokjin pushed the door open, once inside you watched the lady behind the counter turn to you. Her right arm was bent slightly under the counter most likely holding something. Your eyes turned into crescent moons as you smiled at the lady “good evening.” you greeted. The woman seemed to relax, her right arm straightening and her tense shoulder slumping back down, she probably didn’t see you as a threat. “What a lovely shop you have.” you spoke softly, eyes running across the wine red walls before turning back to the lady, her crows feet grew at the compliment. “Thank you”, her voice was rough and nasally “What brings you here? I don’t think I have seen you before” her dark eyes flickered to Seokjin before returning to you. “We were passing by and I couldn’t help but be entranced by this beautiful store” you chuckled. The lady ran her palm along the side of her greying hair “I would love to see what you sell, but…” you furrowed your eyebrows imitating confusion as you looked around the room “I don’t see anything. You are a jewelry shop, right?”. The lady straightened a sparkle taking over her eyes “Yes! But no ordinary jewelry shop, every jewlery is customised for the individual customer. No piece is the same!”. You tried your best to bite back a smirk “No piece is the same, huh?”, the woman nodded, her head held high with pride “I refuse to make duplicates!”.

The lady went on explaining the whole process, you gulped, keeping a smile on your face before turning to the man behind you, he blinked confused at you. So much for keeping it short, you thought as you turned back to the lady. Still, you were sure buttering her up with compliments would make it easier to get info out of her, “You’re truly talented you chuckled through gritted teeth. The woman seemed oblivious to the souring mood instead basking in the affection. “Well why don’t I design something for you? I don’t usually take customers outside my usuals, but you’re such a sweetheart.” the lady walked into the back room as she spoke, your eyebrows rose at the comment “Usual customers? Is this a family business?” you could hear Sekojin straighten up, interested in the answer as well. “Not really, a close… friend pays for the expenses of this store, and in return, I make jewellery for her.” the lady spoke as she picked through some colours stones eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “Hmm, I think yellow would suit you. Yellow is very entrancing and represents happiness, which suits you perfectly.”. An image suddenly popped up in your head, it was one of the charms on the waist chain, a blue stone wrapped in a gold cord. You licked your lips leaning forward “Um, how- how about blue?” you stared at her with big eyes “No, blue is more for a person that is wise and powerful. I don’t get that from you, no offence” she chuckled. “How about animals?” you were basically leaning over the counter “My friend here is a loves tigers” Seokjin jumped at the sudden attention, stepping forward he nodded catching on. The lady froze for a second, her lips pulling slightly up in disgust before she returned to work. “...Tigers are spiteful animals, they only take with no regards of others...They kill and betray.” the wrinkles around her nose dug deeper into her skin as she wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Ungrateful” she hissed but were cut off by the cheerful sound of the bell. The three of you turned to the door, there froze and mirroring your shocked face stood Park Jimin, it had been so long since the last time you couldn’t help but let your eyes linger and drink all of his features. His now sharp eyes broke you out of your trance. He didn’t seem happy to see you, gulping hard you tuned to the lady “Oh my it seems that I have done it again and talked away the time,” you smiled pulling on your pink scarf in nervousness. “It seems like you have another customer too.” you turned to Seokjin who was glaring tough Jimin. Elbowing him slightly you bowed to the old lady “We’ll take our leave then.”, she reached out for the two of you as you walked towards the door. “Wait!” rounding the desk she handed you the jewellery she had worked on in your hand, you opened your mouth to speak. Still, she interrupted you “Thank you for the conversation.” Her eyes held a sadness that tore pain into your heart, giving her a smile and nod, the two of you walked out, you keeping your head low avoiding Jimin’s gaze. 

You stared into the air, not fathoming what had happened, “What is he doing?!” Seokjin slammed his palm against the steering wheel, the car slightly jerking at the movement. You watched him from the corner of your eye, his eyebrows were furrowed, lips pulled in a scowl. Terrifying, you thought. Your eyes fell on the small jewellery shelled by your hands, you brought your hand up letting the keychain hang from your finger, the little yellow star dangling from the glittering chain. “She didn’t seem that alarmed when he walked in.” you spoke voice low and eyes not leaving the keychain “Not like when we walked in”. “He’s been there before.” Seokjin said through gritted teeth. You let out a sigh, your hand falling back onto your lap “Let’s forget that now. We got a good amount of info” you let your head fall back onto the headrest “The girl we’re searching for is most likely this “friend” that bought the store. But the lady didn’t seem happy with her, seeing how she spoke about the tiger thing”. The car fell into silence as the man beside you didn’t answer, you didn’t mind feeling a headache creep through your scalp, a slight buzz caught your attention. You opened your eyes and looked down on your phone, eyes slightly widening—a message from Jimin. You swallowed eyeing Seokjin, but he seemed lost in thought before looking back at your phone, based on the way he had looked earlier this couldn’t be good, you thought as you unlock the device. The message was short and to the point, Tomorrow, the concrete sea 20.00. The concrete sea was an old neighbourhood that was stripped of all buildings leaving only a massive area of flat concrete… isn’t it where people get taken to be killed? You thought a small nervous chuckle fell from your lips.   

[borisbubbles]

32. AUSTRALIA

Montaigne - “Don’t break me”

🤡 KLOUN  🤡 🤡 KLOUN  🤡 🤡 I MOU KLOUN  🤡 

HA HA HA HA -- Afrodyti Fryda -- Jessica Charro 

Normally I wouldn’t be ranking Montaigne this low, actually :o I do feel like there is *some* potential to be had from her entry and it could’ve been reached greatness in Rotterdam, but since ESC has been cancelled, we’re going to see none of it. So, all I have to go by is the live AD version I just posted, which... I lowkey dislike? Let’s dissect this sucker. 

Song Analysis

Every once in a while, we get that sort of avant garde-esque entry where I’m like “Okay, I get what you’re doing and I like the idea but the execution, babe. It just ain’t there.” I think “Don’t break me” might be the new textbook example of that archetype? I know some media love portraying “Don’t break me” as... what was the Wiwi headline again?

The problem is, it don’t add up.

Like, what exactly is alternative about this entry? Not the music, despite the statements claiming otherwise. Montaigne wrote this song together with established “indie” songwriters DNA, hits of other ’indie’ miracles “Don’t come easy”, “Tonight again” and “#WeGotLove”. “Don’t break me” is equally indie, that is to say, not indie at all and blatantly mainstream. Ain’t nothing wrong with that, (DBM is hands down the best song DNA have produced for ESC) but don’t sling LIES at me. 

Secondly, the staging, we need to address the staging, hunties cuz boy it ain’t holdin’ up. (lol I’m merely channelling Wiwi Adams because that’s what the spirits whisper to me - that is to say, pink gin & tonic). There are some *conceptual* strong points to me, clearly spliced in to fabricate some perception of free artistry, but the execution of it is lacking. In lay man’s terms: IT’S SO FUCKING INCOMPETENT OMG I should stan... but don’t because, well.

Et tu quoque, Sennek?

Montaigne herself said she styled her marionette-frock after mr Mime (Mimes aren’t marionettes? Am I missing something?), but it’s Not Very Effective when your style is more inline with Grundel Toad. YES, One Shot Camera Angle, yes super artsy and creative were it not for the fact that Trijnwreck Oosterhuis already pioneered this and it came off similarly feeble. 

I however am not *that* offended by “Don’t break me” or its act as many others appear to be though. Again, the song is decent and it’s mostly brought down by a lack of performing experience on Montaigne’s behalf. While not good, it’s salvageable at the very least. 

However, I’m more annoyed that this (decent) mainstream song is being sold as innovative and mold-breaking, neither of which it actually is. This is the root of the problem imo. The utter denial of "Don’t break me’s” own mainstreamness and the desperation to prove the opposite. 

And honestly, this even applies to Montaigne herself? Her appearance, creative decision making and hell, even her own social media posts read a bit too much “How To Be Different For Dummies.” to really make it believable. ”I AM ALTERNATIVE. HERE’S MY PORTFOLIO OF UNCONVENTIONAL HAIR COLOURS AND UNIBROW STYLES TO PROVE MY POINT SO YOU DON’T HAVE TO TALK TO ME. WANNA SEE MY ARMPIT HAIR? I JHERI-CURLED IT YESTERDAY.” Her brand of off-beatness feels shallow and uninspired because it is. She  being conformist with regards to her own nonconformity and that makes her a bigger slave to societal norm than you and I. 

NF Corner

Lol this was not a great Aus Decides. Sadly the standard wasn’t nearly as high as it had been last year. I cheered *FOR* Montaigne at the time, that’s how bad it was. There were several *atrocious, easily last in this ranking had they won”-entries she needed to slay (DIE JACK! DIE MITCH! DIE CASEY!) and she did. A pity my interest very quickly evaporated, but oh well, such is life. Fortunately there were a few... decent-ish entries that I’d like to share. Don’t hold you breath, though - this selection had no Electric Fieldses.

Vanessa Amorosi - “Lessons of Love”

“Lessons of love” almost completely passed me in studio -  I liked it mostly because “Absolutely everybody” was a BOP and I was edging for a good performance, which... Vanessa delivered honestly. CRAWLING OUT OF A CAR CRASH <3 The one-woman vocal bidding war she engages in once the first chorus hits. The rainy drizzle <3  The song’s merely adequate but Vanessa’s affect and the staging are enough for me. A ballad that in fact isn’t boring and provides a host of tiny little gems I can cling onto for three minutes, what a treat!

Now I’m mentioning ballads, (um, this is about Aus Decides 2020; of course ballads are being mentioned), this one was pretty good too. 

Didirri - “Raw Stuff”

“Raw stuff”, like Vanessa’s song, completely passed me by in studio version (except, I didn’t even bother simulating appreciation here - disheveled, homely men aren’t my thing, cf.: Salvador). “Oh a stripped down power ballad with personal meaning” well am I ever not interested?

And then the live disarmed me, lol. I have NO idea why but it just clicked for me. iDidirri managed to give it certain sincerity, a certain pathos that I could empathize with and the staging (which was highkey good - Non-boring piano ballads! The Concept!) provided me with enough sustenance. I also firmly believe that had “Raw stuff” made it to an actual ESC stage, it could’ve won the whole thing - it has that Salvadorian quality, minus the pretence. Alex Callier quaking in his boots rn. 

But anyway, the ONE song everybody and their dog loved was of course also a fave of mine. It is, of course,

Jaguar Jonze - “Rabbit hole”

CHASE ME IN TO DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE

From pretty much second one Jaguar IMMEDIATELY unleashed her inner psychotic weirdo self, flailed her body around on designer furniture (dislocating her shoulder!!! what a trooper), LITERALLY tore down the walls around her and snagged every wig in the audience. SHE’S A JAGUAR, A MARE, A GAZZELLE

*THIS* how you indie. Not Mundaigne’s safer-than-seclusion puppetfest. You inject genuine personality quirks into your song and performance, don’t give *a single* fuck about what other people think. And like any good indie song, you aren’t rewarded for your nonconformist attitude by “professional” juries. 😁

and now she has coronavirus! STAY STRONG GIRL :( (lol she streamed a jam sessions a few days back, I’m fairly certain she well) WLU!

Australia 2020 & Australia 2021

“Don’t break me” is one of those entries where qualification *entirely* depends on how good or bad the live was. Usually you can tell whether X will (not) qualify UNLESS their live is much worse than expected (or better if they’re a projected NQ). This does not apply to Montaigne; The “Don’t break me” we saw at Aus Decides definitely *would* have NQ’d, but who knows about the modified, improved version. It could’ve Katherine’d itself, it could’ve Sennek’d itself, it could’ve KMH’d itself. Who the f knows and I ain’t gonna spec on it. What I do know is that the subpar singing and dancing would not be present in the final product because, you know, rehearsals. The real hurdle for “Don’t break me” was something different: namely Montaigne herself and her compulsion to break the mold by not breaking it at all. All the decisions w/r/t the staging and styling can be traced down to her and these decisions suck because they are being made for the wrong reasons. Like, you don’t *NEED* tryhard symbolism when your (actually pretty goodish) song already possesses good and transparent lyrics. It’s okay to be MAINSTREAM, Montaigne, it is OKAY to be Mundaigne. Don’t let your ego get in your way. LOVE YOURSELF, sweet Jessica and BE YOU!!! For all our sakes...

  FREAKY! FRIDAY! FACTOR!

Australia deserves a few senheads, I think. Not many because, yep, a whole NF with self-composed songs and they STILL went for the ballad that had a DNA co-writing credit. SIGH. However, I do believe the *funk* of Montaigne’s ordinary uniqueness, and how it bled into mainstream indie song, is kind of a Freaky! thing (it’s similar to how Alanis Morissette’s “Ironic”, a song about irony, contains zero examples of actual irony - which ironically enough makes it one of the most ironic songs ever penned), if a severely diluted one. Oh well, beggars cannot be choosers, I guess. 

Score: 1 Senhits out of 5.

[seraph-novak]

Talk to Me

Summary ~ TJ confides in his mom about Cyrus (based on the recent texts where Cyrus talks about meeting TJ’s mom).

As always, all likes/comments/reblogs are very much appreciated. Thanks for reading! ♥

~~~~~

Coming home is like slipping into his own skin again. As soon as he steps through the front door, he’s greeted by a cloud of chicken-scented steam wafting from the kitchen, where his mom is busy dicing onions and humming to an old jazz song playing on the radio. Just the sight of her is enough to put him at ease; he can already feel his anxiety-riddled thoughts retreating to the back of his mind as he joins her at the kitchen counter, instinctively picking up a clean knife and starting to slice the carrots she’s laid out for him.

“You’re home late,” his mom muses, flicking him a brief, questioning smile. “Hanging out with friends again?”

TJ shrugs. He isn’t exactly sure where Kira falls on the friend spectrum, given the fact that all they really have in common is basketball, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s been hanging out with her a lot lately. That’s what Cyrus seems to think, anyway. Ever since their conversation in the park a few days ago, he hasn’t been able to shake off the feeling that something has changed between him and Cyrus, and just thinking about it is enough to give him a stomachache.   

“Alright,” his mom says, thankfully taking the hint. She tucks a strand of dirty-blonde hair behind her ear and passes him a bowl of potatoes to peel. “There was a boy here to see you, by the way. Didn’t give me his name though.”

All at once, TJ’s brain short-circuits, his fingers almost snagging on the peeler as he slams it down on the counter. His hands are shaking as he turns to his mom, a bright blush staining his cheeks. Just the mere possibility of Cyrus coming to his house to see him is enough to make him giddy with newfound hope for the future of their relationship.

“What did he look like?” he asks, not even trying to mask the eagerness in his voice.

His mom huffs a bemused laugh. “Um… Dark hair, dark eyes? A little on the awkward side, but in a sweet way.” She chuckles. “He accidentally told me to ‘get home safe’. Poor kid turned redder than a tomato.”     

TJ grins, absently rubbing the back of his neck as the scenes plays perfectly in his mind. “That definitely sounds like Cyrus,” he says dreamily.

“Wait a second!” His mom throws her hands in the air. “I didn’t realise I’d been talking to the famous Cyrus Goodman.”

“Mom…”

“How does he know where we live, pray tell?”

She’s got her hands on her hips, a knowing smirk playing on her lips as she waits for him to explain. It’s such a typical, motherly sight, and TJ can feel his chest flooding with warmth, despite the blush creeping up his neck. His mom is such a dork, and he loves her for it.

“He might’ve come over a couple times,” he mumbles.

“Might’ve, or has?”

“Has, okay?”

“And why wasn’t I made aware of this?”

“Because I didn’t want you to attack him with a bunch of weird, overly-personal questions?”

His mom gasps, feigning offense as she slaps a hand over her heart. “I would never!”

“Sure.” TJ rolls his eyes.

“And what is that supposed to mean, young man?”

“It means I know you. And I know that you love to wiggle your way into my friends’ lives and make it your personal mission to not let them get bored of me and ditch me, like everyone else does.”

At that, his mom winces slightly, her features softening with a thin layer of guilt. “Oh, baby… That’s not true.”

“No point pretending otherwise.”

“You have friends.”

“I have Cyrus.”

“Is that who you were hanging out with today?”

TJ grits his teeth, those anxiety-riddled thoughts burrowing their way back to the surface of his mind. If he could have it his way, he’d hang out with Cyrus every day for the rest of his life. But lately, there seems to be an invisible wedge between them, keeping them apart at all times. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think they’d had some kind of argument. But, other than the awkward mishap on costume day, which Cyrus has insisted he’s fine about, TJ can’t recall any recent bumps in their relationship.

“No,” he says, pointedly focussing on the potato in his hand. “That was Kira. She’s just some girl I met a few weeks ago.”

His mom pauses, her interest freshly perked. “A girl, huh?”

“Don’t even go there.”

“What? I was just –”

“It isn’t like that, okay? We’re just friends!” He tosses the peeler back into the bowl, tearing a hand through his hair with a grunt of frustration. “Why does everyone automatically assume we’re a couple or something? Like a guy and a girl can’t be friends without there being some weird, ulterior motive…”

“Woah, there,” his mom says, raising her hands in mock surrender. “Can I have my head back, please?”

TJ deflates. “Sorry.”

“Who else assumed you were a couple, anyway?”

“Cyrus.”

“Ah…”

“He keeps telling me he’s happy for me and stuff, like Kira and I are in a serious relationship or something.” He shudders. “It’s like he’s not hearing me when I tell him we’re just friends.”

His mom nods, her hands neatly folded on the counter. She’s regarding him with narrowed eyes, her lips slightly pursed, and TJ can tell she’s about to say something deep and profound. His mom always gets this strange, faraway look on her face whenever they’re about to have a ‘big talk’.  

“Why do you not want Cyrus to think you’re a couple so badly?” she asks, sounding genuinely intrigued.

TJ shrugs impatiently. “Because we’re not?”

“Is that really the only reason?”

“I dunno…”

“C’mon, baby. Don’t think I can’t read you like a book.”

It’s the look in her eyes that finally breaks him, the gentle, imploring look that’s begging him to open up and be honest with her. No one can chip away at his walls like his mom can. Not even Cyrus, and that’s saying something.

“Everything’s so confusing,” he says, relenting with a sigh. He pushes the bowl of potatoes away and turns to face his mom, letting her know he’s about to dive into some pretty big stuff. “Ever since I started hanging out with Kira, things with Cyrus have been… off. At first I thought it had something to do with the bad blood between Kira and Buffy – that’s Cyrus’ best friend – but now I’m thinking maybe it’s something different.”

“How do you figure?”

“Well, the stuff with Buffy and Kira happened a while ago. And Cyrus isn’t the kind to hold a grudge.” He presses his lips together, recalling the sight of Cyrus walking away from him and Kira without so much as a second glance. “But if there’s something going on, why would he come to my house?”

His mom lifts a shoulder. “Maybe he wanted to hang out, just the two of you?”

“But I text him to meet me in the park the other day, and he completely ignored me! How am I supposed to keep up with all these mixed signals?”

“Were you alone in the park?”

“I –” He freezes, an image of him and Kira laughing on the swings flashing before his eyes. For some reason, it makes him feel dirty, like he’d somehow cheated on Cyrus by going on the swings with anyone but him. “I was with Kira.”

His mom tilts her head forward, shooting him a withering look. “Well, there you go.”

“But… I don’t understand what he has against her?”

“Have you considered the possibility that he might be a little bit jealous?”

TJ wrinkles his nose, practically giving his mom a double take. “Why would Cyrus be jealous of Kira? He’s my best friend. She’s just some girl I hang out with sometimes. They don’t even compare!” He huffs, feeling his frustration quickly rising. “He has absolutely nothing to be jealous of.”

“Maybe he doesn’t know that?”

“What? How could he not know that?” He scoffs, his thoughts turning cloudy with confusion. He’s stuck on the insane idea that Cyrus possibly doesn’t understand how important he is to him, or how he cares about him more than anyone (besides his mom, of course) on the entire planet. “Cyrus is… I mean, he’s… God, mom, he’s the most amazing person I’ve ever met! He’s kind and funny and a total nerd and –” He cuts himself off, a furious blush burning his cheeks as he realises what he’s saying. Out loud. To his mom.

“He’s my best friend,” he concludes quietly, turning away from his mom’s penetrating smile.

A moment of silence passes, the ghost of his words still fluttering in the air. TJ deliberately clears his throat and goes back to peeling potatoes. He can feel his mom’s eyes on the side of his face, quietly studying his profile with that wise, all-knowing expression she wears sometimes, usually when she’s sussing him out. She really was right about the whole ‘reading him like a book’ thing; he’s never been able to keep stuff from her for too long.

“He sounds like a very good friend,” she says eventually, her words incredibly soft.

TJ exhales a long, shaky breath, letting a potato roll out of his hand as he slumps against the counter. “Yeah, he is,” he whispers numbly. It feels like a confession. “He’s the best.”

“Have you ever told him that?”

“Huh?”

“Have you ever told him how you feel?” At his responding flinch, she rewords the question. “Have you ever told him how important he is to you?”

TJ stares down at his hands, absently picking at a loose piece of skin on the pad of his thumb. He must’ve caught it on the peeler after all. He squeezes it until it stings, watching a bead of blood roll down his wrist, then drops his forehead against his arm. When did his life become so messy? He doesn’t feel equipped to deal with all of these perplexing emotions.

“I thought he already knew,” he says, lifting his head to meet his mom’s eyes. “How could he not?”

His mom reaches across the counter and grabs both of his hands in her own. Her messy ponytail is spraying wisps of straw-coloured hair all over her face, clinging to the corners of her mouth and falling across her ocean-green eyes. When it comes to his looks, TJ takes after his mom in every regard. From their soft colours, to their gangly limbs, to their lightly-freckled skin; there isn’t a speck of his absent father to be seen in him, and TJ wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Maybe he needs a little persuasion,” his mom suggests, giving his hands a quick squeeze. “It wouldn’t hurt to put your feelings into words, would it? Let him know how special he is to you.”

TJ swallows roughly. “Mom, I…”

“It’s okay, baby.”

“I’m scared.”

“Of course you are.”

“I feel stupid,” he says, laughing wetly as he wipes an arm across his eyes. “I don’t even know what’s wrong with me.”

“Nothing,” his mom says, not an ounce of reluctance in her words. She sounds exactly like Cyrus, which makes his heart clench with longing. “There is nothing wrong with you, do you hear me?”

He nods. “Yeah, mom. I hear you.”

“Good.”

“There’s stuff I wanna tell you, I just…” He trails off, his stomach doing that weird drop-in-the-elevator thing as he stares down at their joined hands. He knows his mom will love and support him no matter what, but now doesn’t feel like the right time for that particular conversation just yet. Maybe he needs to figure things out for himself first.

“Hey.” His mom taps the bottom of his chin, motioning for him to look back up at her. As soon as their eyes meet, he relaxes. “I know, baby. And when you’re ready, you can tell me all about it.”

TJ smiles. “Thanks, mom.”

“You’re very welcome.”

“But, what about Cyrus? How do I fix things?”

“You want my honest opinion?” she asks, quirking an eyebrow. “Talk to him. It may seem amateur, but that’s what you’ve gotta do. Talk to him, and tell him the truth. As much as you’re willing to give, at least.”

TJ considers this for a moment, mulling the possible outcomes over in his head. On the one hand, Cyrus could turn him down. He’d be undoubtedly nice about it; things would be awkward for a few weeks, then TJ would slowly start to move on, and they could go back to being friends again. Things could certainly be worse. But on the other hand…

“I don’t wanna lose him,” he says, giving his mom’s hands a desperate squeeze as a wave of raw panic washes over him. “I can’t, mom.”

“You won’t,” she tells him, sounding unshakeably sure of the fact.

“How do you know?”

“You care about each other. That much is clear. And as long as you stop running from those feelings, and start being open with each other, that’s never gonna change.” She leans forward and pinches the bridge of his nose, just like she always used to do when he was little. “Now… Go call him.”

TJ hesitates. “But, the cooking –”

“I’m giving you the night off.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” She shakes her head fondly, her hands returned to their usual position on her hips. When she reaches up to kiss his cheek, TJ remembers how much taller he is than her now, and his heart pinches with a sad kind of nostalgia. It’s been just him and her for so long, but now things are slowly starting to change… And here she is, telling him it’s okay. Always putting him first.

“I love you, mom,” he says, not even caring how lame he sounds.

His mom beams up at him with wide, glistening eyes. “I love you too, baby. Now go make that damn call.”

TJ grins. “Okay.”

He’s halfway up the stairs when he hears the radio being turned up again, more of that tinny jazz music drifting down the hallway, carrying the soft hum of his mom’s voice all the way to his bedroom. Even when he’s sitting on his bed, his thumb hovering over Cyrus’ number on his phone, he can hear the staticky sound of Frank Sinatra gushing about the stars. He takes a deep breath, grounded by the sounds of normalcy slipping beneath his bedroom door, and makes the call.  

Cyrus answers on the first ring.  

The End.

[amwritingmeta]

21 Supernatural Questions

I was tagged by @deletingpoint - thanks for the kind words, girl!! Made my day! You rock the block! And yes don’t mind if I do join in, this looks fun. :P

1. When did you start watching Supernatural?

I’d seen stray episodes before - I’ve absolutely no clue which ones - but then I binged S1-6 in 2013 while being ill with the flu and I was hooked before it came up, because I loved S1-3 and the brother dynamic and thought it was a really awesomely well-written piece of television, but when they introduced the will-they-won’t-they-make-this-uber-masculine-guy-be-into-guys-and-specifically-the-guy-with-wings I was pretty much gone for. So I caught up on the show and watched it until a few episodes into S9 (don’t judge me, I was surface watching and couldn’t get with the program at the time because why wasn’t Dean gay already??) and then I quit watching for a few years because I couldn’t stand the grey area and the uncertainty. I also wasn’t invested enough to stand it, tbh, and felt, naw, I’ll get back to this if it ever seems like they’re actually gonna do anything with this thing they’re hinting so strongly at. Picked it back up while S12 was airing and here we now are.

2. Who is your favorite in TFW?

But the other two might get jealous!

(okay, it’s Cas)

3. Who is your least favorite in TFW?

They’re the holy trinity and none of their character progression works without all of them taking up their allotted space in the narrative and how can you not love them all what is wrong with this question why am I hyperventilating why aren’t they beloved equally gaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh

(but Cas is my favourite)

4. Tag your top 5 Supernatural blogs!

I sincerely can’t, but I can tag a few people whom I very much appreciate and whose answers to this questionnaire I would be intrigued to see: @godshipsit​ @charlie-minion​ @mad-as-a-box-of-frogs​ @waywardliliana​ @natmoose​ @purgatory-jar​ @myed89​ @inacatastrophicmind​ @rustling-pages​ @angelneedshunter​ @nerdylittleshit​ @obsessionisaperfume​ @assbuttboyfriends​ @misskittyspuffy​ @starsinursa​ @postmodernmulticoloredcloak​ @casismybestfriend​ @mittensmorgul​ @elizabethrobertajones​  - you’re all like bursts of colour and glitter glue and I’m happy you’re around! :) (btw I always find it awkward to tag specific peeps because there are so many of you lovelies that I would honestly tag so just know that this most likely includes you) (yeah that’s right) (YOU) <3

5. Who is your favorite character (not including TFW)?

Jack

6. Who is your favorite woman in Supernatural?

Rowena

7. John or Mary?

Mary

8. What were your first opinions of Sam, Dean, Cas, and Jack?

Sam: my first impression of him was very coloured by my impression of Jared as Dean on Gilmore Girls, so to hear someone call Jared Sam and then this Sam call someone else Dean was a bit jarring while watching the pilot. My earliest opinion of Sam was that he was kind, good with people, skilled, independent and, yes, haunted by past choices.

Dean: Immediate impression was oh, he’s one of those guys, and then almost straight away that first impression was blown to bits and everyone knows that he’s very, very easy to fall in love with quickly, so my love for him grew strong within a few episodes, for sure. First opinion formed holds until this day: someone who’s lost and who’s searching for a way home. In every sense of that sentence. 

Cas: Holy shitballs, who’s this now?? was pretty much my first reaction to Cas’ entrance. It blew me away. It was an absolute game changer. It made me sit up. It made my brain go... are they... are they going to make Dean Winchester... is Dean Winchester into men?? And because on my first watch I’d not seen the little hints of this that now are so damn glaringly obvious, the chemistry between Dean and Cas literally made a lot of shit click into place for me regarding what I was potentially actually watching, and raised my emotional investment sky high considering the possible social commentary baked into the overall message of family and identity, and yeah, that still holds true to this day.

Jack: I was ready to fight tooth and nail for him after 12x19. That episode is still one of the best 42 or so minutes of television I’ve ever seen. The plant of Jack as a needed push for Cas’ progression hit me in the heart, and once it clicked that Jack represented the holy trinity of Heaven, Hell, Humanity, and how he might narratively prove a knitting point for TFW, something for them all to rally around, well, I was pretty much done for.

9. What’s your favorite season?

This is a really hard question because watching a season from start to finish means taking all of it in, and all of them - when start-to-finished - I feel are rather outstanding, but twist my arm and I’ll say: S1 or S4 or S5 or S8 or S9 or S11 or S13 (I can’t narrow it down to just one season alright?) and S14 and looking at what we have so far with this unfinished season I’d name S15, definitively.

10. What’s your least favorite season?

Oh, man. Make a girl sweat. So, here’s the thing, I genuinely see each season as adding something valuable to the whole, you know? I suppose S6 drags a bit, but I really like the tone and the noir sensibility of it, so I wouldn’t really call it my least favourite, but if I were to choose one season to binge over a weekend, S6 wouldn’t necessarily be first pick.  

11. Opinions on Destiel?

Ah, yes, the obligatory essay question. Please see attachment. *points to blog*

12. Do you believe Supernatural queerbaits?

Look, to my mind, the reason Dean and Cas aren’t together yet is character related. They need to get their fucking ducks in a row. (and then those ducks will hopefully be fucking all over the place) (okay that’s graphic bird sex but you know what I mean) (not literally Dean and Cas dressed up as ducks and fucking) (but like... good stuff for the eyes will be happening that isn’t necessarily fucking feather related) (wait) (oh ffs brain!!) (you HAD to go there didn’t you??) (moving on) (or rather answering the question) --> I don’t believe they queerbait, no. 

13. Seasons 1-7 or 8-14?

8-15x03

14. Favorite villain (plot wise)?

*chills are multiplying* 

I love Chuck as the Big Bad, sincerely, but oh mannnn Michael.

15. Do you think they should end the Lucifer plot line?

Yeah, this questionnaire has been in drafts for a while now so um... I mean, the Lucifer plot line as it pertains to SAM should reach a satisfactory conclusion, but as it pertains to Lucifer’s play for Jack and breaking God’s toys etc. yeah, no, done.

16. Who do you think has gone through more trauma (Sam, Dean, or Cas)?

That’s too relative to their highly linked, and yet wholly individual relationship with their past and lingering sense of trauma. I think @deletingpoints reply was something along the lines of: Can you measure trauma? And I agree. They’ve all been deeply traumatised at different stages of their life and they’ve all dealt with their individual trauma in different ways. 

17. What’s your favorite Supernatural episode?

I’m sorry, what? I thought you just asked me to pick one favourite episode out of 3678916236363487236783 times infinity. This is mathematically impossible and since I’m sadly not fluent in math and have absolutely no access to any type of calculator or abacus or, I don’t know, a neighbour who happens to make amazing fucking latte and dresses in knits and is attractive in a non-conventional way and also happens to be a math genius, I must reject the question outright and plead the 105th. (i.e. I cannot possibly)

18. Do you like case episodes?

Where’s that gif of Dean going Dude Yes?

^^^

19. Who do you relate most to in TFW?

Darling Cas. Socially awkward and lost but growing into his own skin Castiel. My God, I love him so dearly. There are not words for how much I relate to him, or for what he’s done for my personal self-reflection, or how much I’m now re-relating to his need to push himself out of his comfort zone and dare. I owe him. *hugs into oblivion*

20. Why do you like Supernatural?

Ohhhhh, goody, one of those multi-choice questions. Is it:

a) because of the absolutely stunning character journeys 

b) because of the absolutely smashing world and all its mythology 

c) because of the underlying social commentary and the intricate use of subtext to effectively, though subtly, bring ideas linked to the conscious/unconscious sides to us into not only the use of already mentioned mythology, influencing the world building, but also wholly guiding, impacting and giving momentum to the already mentioned stunning character journeys

d) all of the above

e) all of the above, and a little bit more that would take an actual book to relay

E. It’s E. All the way the answer is E. 

21. If you could bring back one character and kill off another who would they be?

I’d bring back Eileen and holy moly Shoshanna is coming our way. And I don’t have a character to kill off tbh. Let them live, I say. :)

I genuinely tag EVERYONE. Go on, everyone, you know you wanna!  :) xx

[endangered-liaison]

Power

An appointment to see her mother.

It's just like old times.

Wyda snorts, leaning back against her chair and crossing her arms over her chest. She's early, but it's better to be prompt than risk being late, especially where Mother is concerned.

She closes her eye and just...tries to ignore the sensations flooding around her. Not that closing her eye really makes much of a difference. She still sees in front of her just as well. Still feels.

Ever since she woke up, it's been like this. Getting stronger and stronger all the time. She thinks, in truth, that is probably started before the coma. She knows her attunement to aether had been sharper in the days leading up to that fateful trip out to Gridania. But this is...far beyond that. It's grown so much stronger.

In Ul'dah, or Limsa Lominsa, feeling the aether all around her is hard enough. It's everywhere, after all, and seeing her own vibrant blue, or Victoria's mellow, flowing orange, or the flow of the water, or the circling of the wind...it's getting hard. Especially since she doesn't know how to block it out. Staring into her lover's face and seeing the aether more than the woman is difficult. But in Gridania? Gridania is the land of the Elementals. It's infested with aether. Suffused with it.

She hisses in a breath and places a hand over her eye, blocking out the flood of different aether with the simple, comforting thrumming of her own bright cyan. Aqua? She doesn't claim to be an expert on colours.

"Hyrtwyda Eyhafrynwyn?" A voice calls out, and she gives up her momentary reprieve, lowering her hand and opening her eye to behold the midlander man standing before her. She thinks she recognises him, but...it's been a long time. "The Third Conjurer will see you now."

She gets to her feet, following the conjurer to the sanctum in the Altar that Wyda used to prefer to think of as Mom's office.

Before she goes in, she manages to place the face of the man who guided her. She remembers him, now. "Renly, right?"

He starts in surprise. "Um...yes."

"Huh. We shared classes here at the guild, didn't we? You were the year above me." Shared classes is an understatement. 'Grew up together' would be more accurate.

"We did, yes."

As bad as the Duskwight.

Flatnose.

Outsider.

Freak.

"Huh." Wyda feels a stab of pain in her forehead as she looks at his pale-purple aether, momentarily overwhelmed by it. She raises a hand to her head, wincing. "That must burn, aye? To work beneath a Roegadyn woman, after all you had to say about us?"

His eyes widen in shock and he takes a step back. "Hyrtwyda, I'm...that isn't..."

"Save it. And my name's Wyda."

She shoves her way through the door and takes some small amount of satisfaction in closing it in his face. A little more forcefully than she should.

Her Mother looks up from her desk and makes a disapproving noise. "Must you slam every door you encounter, Wyda dear?"

"I was just catching up with Renly. Lovely man you chose to be your assistant."

Syggrael places down the quill she was writing with and hums. "Yes, I suppose. His magical talents are a little thinner on the ground than I'd like, and his connection to the elementals is tenuous at best. But he is excellent at fetching things."

Now that sounds exactly like something Xan would say. Wyda flops into the chair opposite her mother's desk and intentionally slouches. "You remind me of a friend of mine." It's not a compliment.

"Yes, well." Syggrael clears her throat. "How can I help you? You know you didn't need to organise an appointment, you could've simply come to visit us."

"I'm seeing Dad later," Wyda replies effortlessly. "I asked if I could stop by his workshop after this meeting, spend some time with him."

"...At least stay for dinner, then."

Wyda's teeth clench until her jaw aches. "We'll see."

Syggrael sighs, but that seems to be the most she's getting out of Wyda. "Very well. May I presume this isn't a social call, in that case?"

"Aye."

The Limsan affectation makes Syggrael wince, and gives Wyda another measure of satisfaction.

"So far, my research on cures has been hitting dead ends. I think that the answer might lie in Amdapor."

Syggrael lets out a deep, slow breath. "I see." Her thumb taps against the edge of her desk - an anxious tic. "So, am I to presume you came here in order to ask for access to the restricted ruins?"

"You've the right of it."

Syggrael sighs. She doesn't respond right away, and instead takes off her reading glasses. She regards Wyda softly, gently. For a brief moment, she looks every bit the concerned mother worried for her daughter. "It's not easy," she says, eventually. "The ruins are often too unstable or too dangerous even for conjurer or wood wailer expeditions, let alone a civilian or however many others you intend to bring. Not to mention, the council and the Padjal are unlikely to be...charitable, regarding you current condition. It takes moons for an archaeologist to be permitted access, and you're..."

"A dangerous, reckless dark mage ostracised from the guild?" Wyda offers with a smile.

"...Not an archaeologist."

Wyda closes her eye. Prepares herself. And... Just for a moment, she allows pretense to drop. Her shoulders level out, she moves to sit properly. She sits up, and meets her mother's gaze. "I know I'm asking a lot. But this is the best lead I have. If you refuse, I can go to less restricted ruins, or to Nym, or, hells, I'll even take a trip out to Mhach. But this is my first, best lead, and I don't know if I have the time to investigate the others."

Syggrael swallows repeatedly. Just for a moment, she looks...upset? On the brink of tears?

Wyda isn't sure, and it disappears after barely a second. But it had been there.

"I'll do it," Syggrael says. "If there's any chance it could save you, any at all...I will not allow it to be squandered. I'll yell at Kan-E-Senna myself if it means you get access."

The tension unrolls from Wyda in waves. She hadn't realised how on-edge she'd been when walking in, but her mother saying that...it floods her with a tangible feeling of relief. She smiles, brightly. "Thank you. But please don't shout at Kan-E, I always thought she was cute."

Of all the myriad reactions Wyda expected from that particular quip, the one she isn't expecting...is for her mother to start laughing.

But that's what happens.

She laughs, loud and uproarious, snorting into her hand and wiping a tear from her eye. "Oh, darling, I know. Half of the Altar knew about your childhood crush on her."

...Well.

...That's mortifying.

"Oh, gods. Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"We all just thought it was so endearing!"

Wyda crosses her arms and grumbles. "I could've died not knowing about how obvious I was, you know. It would've been a mercy!"

Syggrael's gaze softens. She reaches out, across the table. "Come to dinner. I'm sure Eyhafryn would love to see you for more than a couple of hours."

Wyda looks down at Syggrael's hand, and her resolve falters.

"Please?"

Damn it. Wyda groans. "Fiiiine. But I'm going to see Dad without you, first."

Syggrael looks...genuinely delighted. "Of course. I need to work out how I'm going to convince the Council to allow a dangerous, reckless dark mage into Amdapori ruins, regardless." She smiles, eyes sparkling as she makes the joke.

(A joke! From her mother!)

And just for the moment, Wyda can't bring herself to regret visiting.

[the-magnus-archives-archiver]

Boatswain’s Call

Case: 0110201

Name: Carlita Sloane Subject: Her work on a container ship traveling to Southampton from Porto do Itaqui Date: January 2nd, 2011 Recorded by: Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London

[Archivist (John): Look, Tim, I’d love to discuss this further, but as you can see, I have a recording to do.

Tim: Oh, come on. Look, it’s not a big deal. We just need to do a few of them again.

Archivist: Out of the question.

Tim: It’s just confusing if not. Er, like the garbageman’s statement.

Archivist: Mr. Woodward.

Tim: Yeah, so, you said that Alan Parfitt was reported missing... ah, in August 2009, which would actually be six months after the statement had been given.

Archivist: Obviously it should have been 2008. I misspoke an ‘8’ as a ‘9’. What does it matter?.

Tim: Well, someone noticed.

Archivist: Who?

Tim: Er, Josh Cole – great guy – he’s one of the students using our resources for a dissertation. Um... oh, and here, in Miss Montauk’s statement about her father’s killings. You refer to case, um, 9220611 as case, um, 1106922. Oh, and don’t get me started on the other case numbers around the Hill Top hauntings, they’re a mess!

Archivist: Alleged hauntings. And who honestly cares if I misspoke case 9220611 as 1106922? Another student?

Tim: Well, actually, yes. Um, Samantha Emery – she’s lovely – she’s actually doing a PhD in manifestations...

Archivist: I don’t care. It’s not enough that Gertrude left us with such a pointlessly awkward filing system. Half the time she doesn’t even stay consistent in her own records.

Tim: To be honest with you, er, I don’t really understand the system

 Archivist: Last three digits of the year, then the day, then the month. I don’t know why she did it like that, but I can’t change it now.

Tim: Oh... okay... Alright, so what happens if more than one statement is given on the same day?

Archivist: I... don’t know. It never came up. Was there anything else?

Tim: Oh yeah, just one.

Archivist: Good lord.

Tim: So, in case 8163103 it isn’t clear if Albrecht’s wife is called ‘Clara’ or ‘Carla’ ‘cause you keep switching back and forth...

Archivist: Well, I’m sorry if I found it hard to read a 200-year old letter, written in cursive by a native German speaker. Who complained about that one?

Tim: Oh, it’s, it’s not a complaint. I just noticed actually. Um, look I know you’ve been under a lot of pressure... it’s not a big deal, I just think it might be worth re-recording these statements.

Archivist: No. I don’t have time. I still have a mountain of haphazard statements to get through, not to mention that I need to keep this wretched tape recorder on hand just in case I encounter one of the files too stubborn to work on anything else. And when I do, I have to actually read the damn thing, which is...

Tim (BACKGROUND): Oh, woah, woah... woah!

Archivist: Fine. It’s fine. I just haven’t been sleeping much these last few months, what with all this... worm business. Which reminds me, if you do see Elias, tell him thanks for the extra extinguishers.]

Tim: Oh, yeah. Yeah, sure. It’s getting bad. I mean, Martin keeps showing me his tongue and asking if it “looks infested”. Um. So what do you want me to do about these errors?

Archivist: I really don’t care. Put a Post-It on the tapes or something. I’m not re-recording them. Now if you’ll excuse me...

Tim: Oh, yeah, sure, yep, I’ll let you get back to it. [DOOR CLOSES]

Archivist: Right. Oh, still running? Okay.  Statement of Carlita Sloane, regarding her work on a container ship travelling to Southampton from Porto do Itaqui. Original statement given January the 2nd 2011. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

Statement begins.]

I’ve been working the shipping routes for years now, so I know there’s plenty of messed up things can happen out there. You remember the old saying ‘worse things happen at sea’? Well, let me tell you it’s just as true now as it ever was. But I’ve never seen weird like I saw when serving on the Tundra. I didn’t even want the job, really, but I didn’t have a lot of choice. We’d just hit Porto do Itaqui in Brazil in late November of last year when the ship I was on got stopped because of ‘cargo irregularities’. I don’t know what it was. Might have been drugs, human trafficking, might have just been a crooked harbour master looking for a kickback, but it didn’t really matter. Point was I had to jump ship.

This wasn’t an easy thing, though. A sailor’s union should be recognised anywhere in the world, but when it came down to it, my membership of Nautilus, a UK union, meant nothing when I was trying to get a place on a cargo run coming out of Brazil. Didn’t help that I’m a woman. A lot of people don’t think shipping is a job for women. Hell, a lot of people who work on ships don’t think it is. You don’t see a lot of us in the trade, and every ounce of respect I got, some dick-waving asshole probably bled for. But that’s fine, I can hold my own, and it hasn’t been such a problem since I shaved my head. It was enough to keep me on land for a good few days, though, as I tried to find another ship to take me on. Well, that and my bad Spanish.

I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how relieved I was when I heard that a British ship had made port. The Tundra. Now at that point I was starting to get a bit desperate, so I was keen to go to the captain and just about beg passage. Screw my qualifications, if needed I’d sign on as a workaway. I could find a better position once I was somewhere I spoke the language properly.

I eventually found the captain in a small bar in one of the seedier areas of the dockside. I’d been told his name was Peter Lukas, but to be honest I wouldn’t have needed his name – he was the only white guy in the place. Even by those standards he was very pale, weirdly so for someone who apparently lived their life on the sea. He sat there at a small table, completely alone, drinking a cup of black coffee. He was staring into the distance, and didn’t seem to notice anything going on around him. I sat down opposite and coughed.

His eyes only moved a fraction of an inch to focus on me, but it felt as though the movement had the weight of a heavy stone door. Like a tomb. Don’t know why that’s what popped into my head, but there you go. I asked if he was Peter Lukas, and he said, “Yes”. I’d gone blank on what to say next, and it was then that I noticed the silence. I looked around to see that the place was now completely empty. Even the bartender was nowhere to be seen, and the only sound was the whir of the ceiling fans above us. The captain was still staring at me, so I swallowed my unease and began to explain my situation to him. I left out the part about the criminal possibilities of my last ship, but was clear that I was in desperate need of a new post. When I had finished, he was quiet for a few minutes. Then he nodded.

“We have one space. Report tomorrow. At dawn.”

That was all he said. And it was all I needed. The Tundra wasn’t difficult to find when I headed to the docks the next day. It was big, already stacked high with an array of colourful shipping containers. I wondered if they’d loaded it up overnight, as there didn’t seem to be much activity from the crane. It was early, and I was glad I was leaving Brazil before the wet season really got going, as the sky was threatening to break. Making my way through the dock I asked around until I was finally pointed to the mate. He was a short man, heavy set with a thick, black beard. His warm, brown skin was stained darker by a life working in the sun, and he didn’t smile when he looked at me. Around his neck, I saw a chain ending in a small brass ball and stem. It looked like an old boatswain’s call, an antique sailor’s whistle. 

I introduced myself, told him what I’d told the captain and gave my qualifications and experience. The bearded mate listened quietly until I finished. Then he shrugged, and said they were in need of an Ordinary Seaman, and I was welcome to the position if I wanted it. OS was a bit of a step down for me, as I’ve been pulling Able Seaman pay for these last few years, but it was a ticket out of Porto do Itaqui, so I jumped at the chance. The mate still didn’t smile, but he did offer his hand and introduced himself in a gentle Dutch accent as Tadeas Dahl, First Mate of the Tundra. I was surprised, as it seemed a bit abrupt to be leaving, and I hadn’t even had time to stow away the duffel bag that was my only luggage. Still, I wasn’t about to disobey the first order I’d been given on a new ship.

The Tundra was pretty normal. I’ve served on a half dozen ships almost identical to it, and I fell into my duties quickly. We set off almost as soon as I was on board, and it was only later I discovered we were heading across the Atlantic towards Southampton. I was very happy to find that out, as I had assumed we’d be making plenty more stops before crossing back to England. With any luck it wouldn’t be more than a couple of weeks before I was home, and those would be spent in maintenance, repainting and taking watches with ‘Iron Mike’, the autopilot.

So that was fine, but I did start to notice a few things on board which didn’t really seem to add up. The first was the crew. They were quiet. Very quiet. I mean, I’ve been on ships where I was pretty much the only native English speaker, and plenty of people prefer to keep to themselves. Hell, not being too comfortable around people is a damn fine reason to go to sea. This was different, though.

It wasn’t just that they didn’t talk much, they seemed uncomfortable with me. They’d avoid eye contact, and only barely acknowledge me if we were on a shift together. As first I thought it was because I was a woman, but then I saw that it wasn’t just me. They avoided each other just as much as they did me. Meals were always quiet, no matter how many people were eating, and there was no friendly games of cards or chat in living quarters. There was no real conversation in any language. It was like they were doing everything in their power not to think about each other. It took me less than a day of ignored hellos and grunted answers before I fell into line, becoming just as quiet as my crewmates.

The only person who spoke was Tadeas Dahl. The mate would walk among the crew, giving instructions and orders in a dozen different languages, as the crew scrambled to carry out his commands. He was just as composed as he had been when I met him, and it soon became clear that, if he had emotions, he kept a tight wrap on them. He would stride along the ship, his antique whistle swinging from his neck. He never actually blew the boatswain’s call, apparently preferring to summon the crew via the intercom or horn. It just hung there, its polished brass heavy around his neck. I didn’t see Captain Lukas at all that first week. I only knew he was onboard because every meal time the cooks would hand a tray of food to the mate, who’d take it up to the captain’s cabin. We never saw the man himself, though.

There was one crewmember who did catch my eye. He was a young guy, white and, from what I could tell, Scottish. I never really got more than his name out of him: Sean Kelly. He had the bunk opposite me, and we were on different shifts, so I would often see him lying there when I returned from my night watch. He didn’t talk any more than the others, but he also didn’t go around with that blank look on his face. He looked scared. 

There were other odd things about the ship, but hands down the weirdest thing, I didn’t notice until a few days out into the Atlantic. Now one of my duties was to check the deck containers were securely in place, none of the twistlocks or lashing rods had broken or come loose. It was usually just busywork – I’d never been on a ship that lost a container, though it does happen. This shift, though, I noticed something wrong. I saw that one of the lashing rods, towards the stern, had broken. And not at one of the ends, or the twistlock itself, but right in the middle of what should have been solid metal. From a distance it looked fine, new paint shining in the sun, but looking closer I saw that it had rusted all the way through. Not just that, but checking out where the rod connected to the container, it became clear that they had rusted together. Fresh paint covered up most of it, but once I knew what I was looking for I saw it everywhere. The shipping containers, all of them, were rusted in place. How could this have happened, though, if they were being changed over at port? How long had the Tundra been sailing with the same cargo?

I decided I had to look inside. Stupid, maybe. If it was something illegal, they might toss me overboard first and ask questions never, but only if I got caught. And I was just about sick of nasty surprises. 

I did it on my next late shift. I kept an eye on the rest of the crew and waited for my moment. I’d already marked out a ground level container where the padlock had practically rusted off. It wouldn’t be difficult to get it open. It was about 3am when I had my chance. I was alone on deck and the wind was howling loud enough to muffle the groan of the container’s rusted hinges. It took three kicks from my steel toecaps to get it open, but finally I was able to get the door ajar. It was so stiff it took almost all my strength to get enough of a gap to walk through, but finally I could see inside.

It was completely empty. There was no sign of cargo, or any markings or debris on the floor that might have shown there had ever been anything inside. I couldn’t believe it, a transport ship with nothing to transport? It didn’t make any sense. I managed to bust two other containers open, but they were the same. As far as I could tell, every container on the ship was empty. I was still trying to figure out what this could mean when I saw a couple of torches approaching. I almost panicked and ran, but where exactly was I going to escape to? The empty, uncaring ocean stretched out for hundreds of miles in every direction. So instead I swallowed my fear, and pushed the door careful closed, trying my best to hide the broken lock before making my way onto the deck.

I was met by the mate and a half dozen other crewmen behind him. He looked at me for a second, then nodded and told me to follow, then he continued walking. Confused, I headed after them as they made their way around the ship, silently collecting up or waking all the rest of the crew. I started to ask what was going on, but the glares I got shut me right up. Finally, when we had what looked like the whole crew together, we walked over to the lifeboat.

Now we definitely weren’t sinking, so I hadn’t really paid much attention to the lifeboat before, but now I looked at it, I realised it wasn’t what I’d have expected. Most modern container ships have a lifeboat that looks more like a lumpy orange blob than a boat. They’re designed to be quickly and safely dropped into the water and tough out whatever conditions the sea might throw at them. But this was an old fashioned boat, with oars and a winch mechanism for lowering it into the water. It didn’t even look like it had any supplies in it. Standing there in front of it was Captain Lukas, as silent as the rest of his crew. 

The Captain nodded, and one by one the crew of the Tundra got on board the lifeboat. I got on too. I mean, what else was I supposed to do? I didn’t know what was going on and no-one seemed to want to tell me, but I sure as hell wasn’t getting left alone on that big empty ship. So I got in and sat down, as a couple of the crew began to lower the lifeboat into the sea. A few others took up the oars, and as soon as we hit the water, they began to row quietly away from the Tundra, which floated, motionless.

The sky was clear and the wind had died down, so the stars reflected perfectly on the still ocean surface. All the lights on the ship had been turned off, so the world and all the empty horizon was only lit by the moon. As we rowed, I looked around my companions on the lifeboat. Everyone I recognised was there, except for one. I checked each face in turn, but I could see no sign of Sean Kelly, my scared bunkmate. Had we left him behind? Was he still back on the ship, sleeping away ignorant of the fact that he was now utterly and completely alone?

Almost as though he knew I was about to speak, Tadeas gave me a warning glare. The mate reached down and took the old brass whistle from his neck. He pressed it to his lips, and blew.

I have never heard a whistle sound like that. It was shrill, so high and piercing that I felt my hair stand on end, but it also seemed distant. Like I was hearing it from far, far away. I don’t know how long he blew that boatswain’s call for, but by the end, I realised we were surrounded by thick sea smoke. We should have far too far south for it, but it rolled and billowed around the lifeboat, obscuring the Tundra. No-one said a word, but I could have sworn a few of my shipmates were crying.

I don’t know how long we floated there, sat in the dark water, but eventually the fog cleared and the mate sounded the boatswain’s call again, this time a short, sharp whistle. We saw the Tundra, dark and still upon the water, and began to row back towards it. The lifeboat was painstakingly raised and the rest of the crew returned to their positions. Sean Kelly was nowhere to be seen. And I never saw him again.

After that night, the atmosphere on board changed. People talked, and you’d occasionally hear actual laughter on board. Games were played, people drank, and there was this sense of relief to it all. I tried to join in, but got dark looks any time I asked about Sean. At one point the third mate, a man named Kim Duong, told me that I should shut up and be grateful, as it hadn’t been “an easy choice”.

I kept to myself the rest of the way, and left the ship as soon as we landed in Southampton. I didn’t even think about my pay until it came through a couple of days later: twenty-five thousand pounds. For barely two weeks work. I don’t mind telling you, it was almost enough to tempt me back.

Almost.

Archivist Notes:

An interesting statement, though difficult to investigate any potentially paranormal activity, as there does not appear to have been anything explicitly supernatural occurring in this statement. A lot of strange happenings and implicit weirdness, but nothing that can be isolated as a ‘supernatural event’. There’s also the fact that even a casual search of port authority records shows the Tundra is a currently active cargo ship operating for Solus Shipping PLC, a company founded and majority owned by Nathaniel Lukas. In addition to such business ventures, the Lukas family also provides funding to several academic and research organisations, including the Magnus Institute. Much as I want to dig further into this, especially given certain parallels with case 0161301, Elias gets very twitchy when we look into anything that might conceivably have funding repercussions. 

It doesn't look like I’m going to be able to do any further investigations into this. Even though the official crew manifest for the Tundra has remained the same for the last ten years. Even though I can’t find any record of actual cargo being loaded or unloaded into it from any UK port. Even though Sean Kelly disappeared from the port of Felixstowe in October 2010, and his body washed up on the coast of Morocco in April 2011, six months later. According to the coroner, it had only been in the water for five days. Maybe I’ll mention it to Elias. Just in case.

[midnight-mismanagement]

2, 5, 19, 21 ♥️

Aww thank you for the ask! :)))

Alright, let’s do this:

2. talk about a notable time a narrative or character has looked you dead in the eyes and said “fuck your plan, here’s what we’re actually doing.”

Oh my goodness. The number of times a character has done this to me I swear, the audacity. Uhhh mostly it happens when I write short stories (I was writing something that was supposed to end in a rescue and instead ended in….murder and suicide so that was a notable example) but recently regarding fanfic, uh, in the If Anything verse, I didn’t mean for Tony to punch Loki in the face until it…kind of happened? (Sorry Loki,) and for the it doesn’t matter fic, I didn’t mean for Loki to brutally stab at his own ankle so…oops…

5. what is the plot bunny you’ve been carrying for the longest? optional bonus question: do you ever wonder why you haven’t written it yet and experience deep existential dread?

I feel….jesus we’re going here aren’t we ah…in terms of fanfic, there are several things I want to do right now that I haven’t, for some reason, gotten around to yet, like I want to write a fic about Loki’s Jotunn heritage being revealed to Asgard early on during Thor 1 and explore all of that but I haven’t started it yet. I also…uh, when I was thirteen, and I first started writing fanfic (for the Theon fandom), I had plotted out a whole story set after the fifth book involving him going to the Wall, and later going back to Pyke and accidentally summoning krakens from the sea by singing a song he learned from his mother, and eventually riding one and kicking Euron’s ass off the throne. And then I wanted Robb to somehow come back from the dead idk. I ended up just stopping the series before the krakens came into play, and I might not ever write it? I mean, I might, but it probably won’t be in that series, cause my writing has changed since then, so…who knows…

.In terms of original stuff? I’ve been working on a book since I was 12, and it gives me very deep existential dread, as I’ve somehow managed to tie my head in knots over it through the years so…who knows when I’ll ever actually finish that….

19. what’s something neat you’ve learned while doing research for something you were writing? also, how much do you worry about doing research in general?

Oh I’m a really bad procrastinator, so when I research, it just happens…automatically? Like, I won’t be thinking about researching as a thing I’m actually doing until I suddenly find myself scrolling through a wiki page at three in the morning looking up the effects of lyme disease (don’t ask), the Spanish civil war, or which areas of the body can have non-fatal gunshot wounds, so generally if I plan to research, that kind of makes me nervous for some reason, but if I don’t plan, then my brain somehow…gets me there…it is very weird. 

In terms of something interesting I’ve discovered in my midnight burrowing through the internet? Probably that a person or animal with Heterochromia iridium (two different coloured eyes) is also called a chimera. Like the mythological creature consisting of a mash-up of a lion, goat, and a snake. Or any mythical mash-up. I just think that’s neat. (I won’t go into the sciency stuff but it is really cool, and also, Heterochromia can be caused by physical trauma sooooo…..that’s interesting…..)

21. BIG ask: what do you think is the most important component of a good story?

Oh my this is a…this is a biggie huh, okay, um, for me, personally, I think the most important component is probably motive. Now, that’s kind of broad, and I don’t necessarily mean murder, but really, figuring out why characters do certain things opens up so much in helping me with characterization, plot outline, and how to get from point A to point B with all the good character interactions in between by first knowing what primarily drives the characters to do what they end up doing. This is basically how I develop backstory, or weaknesses or strengths and stuff. It’s a powerful thing.

I want to understand them, I want to sympathize with them, and if I don’t know why a character is suddenly trying to kill the other, or why they desperately need some affection, or a hug, then I can’t connect with the story. This doesn’t necessarily mean I’m teaching morals or anything, frankly I’d rather write a story about a bunch of characters learning to understand each other instead of condemning each other in self-righteousness (this doesn’t mean I’m going to gloss over any really bad things they might do, I just…fiction gives me more liberty with this kind of thing I guess.) 

I’m probably just rambling here and not making a lot of sense, but ah, basically, I don’t really necessarily like the “because he’s insane and evil” thing that keeps happening, or the “I’m searching for this fancy magical artifact because a cosmic being in a beard told me to.” I think it’s a way for the audience or reader to constantly be routing for the hero, and feel good when the bad guy bites the dust, but I just…it’s always made me feel uncomfortable, and the hero doesn’t end up evolving that much either. They’re just good, it’s in their nature, and that’s that. Even if my character is a piece of shit, I want to know why, and I want it to mean something. 

I guess I just like having a crap ton of grey characters, hero-coded characters who have to learn about the “villain” and villain-coded characters who have to learn about the hero and stuff like that, and what makes them the way they are and can their roles be interchangeable and are there even any heroes yada yada yada. This doesn’t mean giving redemption arcs to everyone, of course, there are some really bad characters that can’t or won’t or don’t want to stop killing other characters (or doing worse), and you don’t need to give every character a tragic backstory, I dunno I guess I just want explanations, and I want to be able to think more while I’m reading? I’m…terrible at this lmao I’m so sorry.

Anyway, thank you so much for the ask, I was…legit crying for no reason over my computer, so thank you for helping me focus on something through the throws of another mood swing :) I’m sorry if I didn’t make a lot of sense and that this is so long jesus christ oops but ahh…thank you. :)

[fletchlingfletcher]

“Conju”gal Visits

Miahtoux tapped the point of his quill on the desk several times, leaving inky black spots on the pale wood. 

It was taking everything he had not to try and go after Corinne to Gridania. He knew she wasn’t really in any danger, but, in his mind at least, dangerous things lurked in every shadow. So, he stayed, working on his notes, finalising his research, planning the symposium presentation, hoping that it wouldn’t all be for nothing. On the table next to him, Erebus’s tail tapped quietly against the surface in time with the quill. He wasn’t asleep. As always, most of the time that the dragon looked like it was sleeping some part of him was still awake. Absently, Miah glanced back at the clock. 

It was already late into the evening. He guessed that meant she wasn’t returning today, but he didn’t want to sleep… just in case… that and one other reason of course. So, he turned back to his work, candles on the desk flickering, illuminating the dark circular room as well as the window. It was probably the only window where light was visible still- this late at night anyway. He had deliberately chosen his seat so that he wasn’t near the window he could spy the aetheryte out of- in an effort to lose himself in his work of course. It hadn’t really worked. 

Still there was no mistaking that little pulse he felt when she arrived. In fact, he was halfway out of his seat ready to run to meet her when Erebus stopped flicking his tail and sat up to look at him. 

“Don’t. Let her come to you when she is ready.” – “But-” – “No. You were the one so desperate to not make things… awkward between you… I am only looking out for your own interests.” – “And if she doesn’t find us? I’m not exactly in my room, am I?” 

The dragon simply flicked its tail again and laid back down. Miah looked at him, then the door, before sitting back down with a sigh, resuming tapping his quill on the desk.

Corinne turned quickly to hurry away from his empty room, following an increasingly familiar route to the library. He was probably just buried in his books again! In a...very massive library..with very many places for him to sit. Right. 

She sighed as she came to a stop just inside the entrance, trying to think, trying to remember. She'd asked him once where his favorite place was, somewhere..in here..? In a study room? They were here..right? Was she running? She might have started running before reminding herself not to seem quite so anxious and excited.

Alas she wasn’t completely right. The study rooms were not inside the library but within the main tower itself. This was why when he heard steps on the stairs outside the round room, Miah took a moment to register if they were actually there or not. 

A full ten minutes after she had started heading back down again, he pulled open the door, ignoring Erebus and his exasperated sighs, instead trying to follow the footsteps, to catch up to their owner. Until he found himself in the doorway to the library as well panting slightly. She might have reminded herself to stop but he hadn’t. 

“Corinne?”

She nearly fell over herself when she heard her name, tripping while trying to stop her hurried steps and turn around and look normal and casual and..failing miserably. She wobbled and came very close to actually falling over in her attempts to look cool. 

Miahtoux actually ran forward preemptively just as she stumbled, moving as if to catch her even though she managed to regain her footing. He straightened up, embarrassed.

Her face was a bright red when she looked up to him in the doorway, bright red but holding a bright grin as well! "Oh! Heeyyy..!" she still tried so hard to curb her enthusiasm, though she found herself taking steps forward towards him. "I..I um..waaas..I just..got back! A..bit ago. You weren't in your room so I thought you..might have been..um...yeah. But you're here! Good! You..saved me the trouble of trying to find you!!"

“Y-yeah… I was in the round room… I… come on. I’ll show you where it is.”

“This is… one of the study rooms. The largest actually… It's like a library to itself. More for teaching than research. But… well, you asked me what my favourite spot was. I think this is it”

"Ohhh!! I can see why! It's..cozy!" Her voice lowered, "And quiet." 

She slipped in, making her way around the table and admiring the collection of books- what she could see of it anyway! "I..got a little worried when you didn't answer in your room," she admitted, "But I suppose finally getting a definite answer to that question of favorite places was worth it." She turned again to offer him a warm smile.

Miahtoux found his seat again and sat heavily, Erebus flitting down from a top shelf to land on his shoulder. What had the dragon been doing up there anyway? Still Miah sighed, finally able to relax it seemed. 

“It’s… I’m glad you’re back safe…” he sighed again, folding his hands on the table next to a definitely cold pot of tea. He had so many books either piled next to his seat or strewn across the table that one had to ask whether he had been here solidly since she left. Still he avoided meeting her eye though. “I… uh… thank you for going… what… what did you find out?” It seemed he was trying to disguise his thirst for the answers she had retrieved for him...albeit unsuccessfully.

Corinne turned her smile to the little dragon for a moment before returning it to Miahtoux who..seemed very intent on not looking at her again. The smile started slipping against her best efforts. 

"Thank..thank you. It..wasn't so bad though. You..really didn't have anything to worry about, and you..don't have anything to thank me for either. I did offer to do it for you." She rocked back on heels before remembering her quick scrawling before her search. "Oh! Um..right!! Right!" She shoved a hand into a large pouch at her side to pull out a crumpled piece of paper, quickly scanning over it, trying to decipher her own hurried handwriting. 

"You uh...ah...probably..need to have a talk with the..Elementals in regards to your..uh...problem. Aaaaand the raising spell is..complex at best and entirely situational apparently."

"So..you're..confident this will work now then? Does that..make you feel any better in regards to that invitation? Or is there still a lot to be done? I...am probably being a bother in that case, sorry for that."

Miahtoux shook his head. “There isn’t really anything else to add. I have tested this. It works providing the aether is there. It works on a range of things from plants to, hopefully, spoken. Obviously with varying success. But now… now all I can do is collect my notes and prepare a demonstration for the presentation…I have been working on this for so long, Corinne… that I don’t think you could be a bother even if you put all your effort into it.” He afforded her a soft smile. A soft and tired smile, before he withdrew it, apparently unsure if it was appropriate or not. On the table, Erebus just made an amused sound. “Ignore him.” Miah indicated the dragon. “He just doesn’t like being alone with my thoughts.” He gave Erebus a sour look before moving to stand. 

“I… really am glad you are back… not just for what you bought with you… but… well, just because you are back.” His face coloured slightly before he turned for the door. “I should… probably get some sleep…”

Corinne made the slightest sound of relief before it turned into laughter. "You're lucky I like you or I might be tempted to test that theory," she joked, cheeks growing warm with just the simple admittance. Not that they hadn't already been over it. Why was it still so..flustering?? She shook her head at..quite a few things. Herself and those feelings to start with, then the grumpy but sleeping dragon, and finally at Miahtoux trying to sneak out of the room and away from her. She pushed herself up slowly. 

"You know...if you need anything else, any more help, you don't need to be afraid of asking me. I'm more than happy to do it. And.." With a slight step forward, she reached out to lay a light hand on his arm. "I'm happy I'm back too. But..yeah..you go get some sleep, I'll come to be a thorn in your side another day."

He regarded her hand for quite a bit longer than he should have. Placing his own hand on top of it for a few moments, it seemed like he wanted to do more, but uncertainty made him pull away and rest his hand on the doorknob. He gave her a last look, dark circles evident under his eyes, but not quite as weighty as other times. “…thank you……… good… goodnight…” He lingered slightly in the doorway before turning to follow the stairs up to his room. 

On the table Erebus flicked his tail again and yawned, moving to claw his way up Corinne’s arm and sit on her shoulder. “You know… I think I’m going to sleep in your room tonight… I get the feeling there will be more quill scratching before the morning.”

[miraniel]

l85 questions tag game

Tagged by @peppermintfeminist​. Hi mate! You’re the best!

— What was your last…

1. Drink: Alcoholic? You’re kidding right? I recently tried a milliliter of Somerset Apple Brandy and NOPE, never again. Non-alcoholic? Water with lemon. 

2. Phone call: My parents, just before I left for England, where I am now (not over the excitement yet)

3. Text message: “Yes” in response to my grandmother, who asked if I got her text. 

4. Song you listened to: Reflection from Mulan

5. Time you cried: Two days ago, in the middle of a back country road in Somerset, over a goddamn Severus Snape fanfic. I’m still mad that the writer actually managed to make me care about fucking Snape. 

— Have you ever…

6. Dated someone twice: No. Have I dated someone once? Yes, but only by accident. 

7. Kissed someone and regretted it: No.

8. Been cheated on: Look I’m ace as fuck and have never dated really ever. 

9. Lost someone special: Yes, I’ve lost friends in multiple senses. 

10. Been depressed: I don’t think so. 

11. Gotten drunk and thrown up: Any alcohol has this taste for me that the best I’ve been able to describe it is “rancid nickles,” it’s bloody awful, and I’ve never been able to stomach more than a sip of the stuff, so no. 

— Fave colours

12. Olive green. 

13. Purple. 

14. Deep cerulean. 

— in the last year have you…

15. Made new friends: Not really. I made a couple of cordial acquaintences in the drama productions I’ve been in, but no one close.

16. Fallen out of love: No, see above about being ace as fuck. Now, my brief obsession with the show Sherlock...

17. Laughed until you cried: Yes. So many times. 

18. Found out someone was talking about you: Yes, in both good ways and bad ways. 

19. Met someone who changed you: So many people. Just one who springs to mind is my Education professor at college. She was amazing. 

20. Found out who your friends are: I am fully aware that I am a terrible long-distance friend. It’s my worst flaw and I wish I was better about this. I think I’ve betrayed more friendships by just letting them slip away than I ever have had people turn on, or abandon, me. 

21. Kissed someone on your facebook friends list: Unless we’re referring to familial pecks on cheeks... no. 

— General

22. How many of your facebook friends do you know irl: Nearly all of them, apart from one random guy that my cousins met online and who has since befriended the entire family. 

23. Do you have any pets: I no longer live at home, but my family still has one of the two cats we had when I was growing up. 

24. Do you want to change your name: I think about it sometimes. I think about it a lot. I’ve just started using a new name with an eye to it becoming my official pen name. I don’t know if I want to start using it as my everyday name. 

25. What did you do for your last birthday: Oh, crap... I can’t remember. I think my mom was there, and my grandparents. We had cake and a tiny family party. I think. All I remember is I was glad I didn’t have a play rehearsal that day. 

26. What time did you wake up today: 6:50 am

27. What were you doing at midnight last night: Sleeping, for once in my life. 

28. What is something you can’t wait for: Finally achieving my lifelong goal: being employed, being published, and being financially stable enough that I can afford a little house, with a dishwasher and laundry, and a cat, and food, and health insurance, and Netflix. It seems... a long way off. Also the next episode of Supergirl?

29. This question is mysteriously missing, so I will pose a question to the universe/the people I’m going to tag: What was the first piece of media (film, book, world, comic, game, character, etc) that you were ever obsessed with?

30. What are you listening to right now: Silence.

31. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: Several Tims, but no Toms. Excluding possibly some random middle aged guys back when I was growing up because who remembers that sort of thing

32. Something that’s getting on your nerves: People assuming I’m in my early teens and asking me things like how high school is going. Then I’m like, “Nope, I’m like ten years older than that, graduated college a while ago now,” and they’re like “Oh, you look so young,” and I’m like “I know!!” and then (and this is the bit that’s driving me crazy) they all say “You’ll be so grateful when you’re my age!” Like... I just kind of called you out for patronizing me? And your immediate response is to patronize me again? Also there’s no guarantee that I’ll still look ten years younger than I actually am when I’m 50? Also, I may be grateful or not when I’m your age but it sure isn’t doing me any favors now? Please stop. Just stop. 

33. Most visited website: I may or may not be slightly obsessed with Nonasuch’s fantastic Dogfather Harry Potter AU and I might check their tumblr once or twice a day. 

34. Hair colour: Somewhere between dirty blond and light brown now. It was blond when I was a kid. 

35. Long or short hair: Okay, so I really want to be able to braid my hair elaborately again, but I also love the feel of short hair on the back of my neck.  Right now it’s in an inbetween stage and I can have neither of these things. What is a person to do. 

36. Do you have a crush on someone: I had things I called crushes when I was in high school and hadn’t figured out I’m ace as fuck. I get hardcore friend crushes. 

37. What do you like about yourself: I’m proud of my talents, though I play them down more than I should, and I neglect to practice them more than I should. I like how far I’ve come figuring out my identity and who I am these past six years or so. 

38. Want any piercings: Under no circumstances am I voluntarily going to sit still and let someone poke a needle through me or into me for anything other than a medical necessity. This applies to tattoos as well. I respect people who have them, but hell no for me. 

39. Blood type: SOMEONE knows because I’ve had a blood transfusion, I think, but I don’t have a clue. 

40. Nicknames: I have wanted a nickname my entire life and nothing has ever stuck. 

41. Relationship status: Single asexual inactively seeks person willing to share habitation, bookshelves, Netflix, pet, and nerdy conversation for the rest of their life. 

42. Sign: I don’t do the zodiac thing at all, but I’m an INTJ and a Hufflepuff. 

43. Pronouns: Um, this is a weird place and time to do this, but since you asked, I’ve just changed them to “they/them.” 

44. Fave tv show: Ever? Avatar the Last Airbender. Right now? Supergirl, The Flash, Miraculous Ladybug

45. Tattoos: See above regarding NEEDLES

46. Fave city: Albuquerque. Fight me. 

47: Ever had surgery: When I was a kid I had The Case of Pneumonia From Hell and Fun Times in Hospitals and got chest tubes and part of my lung removed. Also a few minor random stuff. 

48. Piercings: See above regarding needles. The needle phobia is directly related to the Fun Times in Hospitals. 

49. Sport: Literally none. I’ll watch gymnastics and skating every four years, but apart from that the highlight of my interest in sports was that time that JKR was live-writing the Quidditch World Cup on Pottermore. 

50. Vacation: I’m in Oxford right now, somewhere I’ve always dreamed of being! And I’m on my way to Scotland and Wales. 

— More general

52. Eating: Sushi, macaroni and cheese, fruit, chocolate, scones

53. Drinking: tea, tea, tea, milk, orange juice, non-alcoholic lemonade or apple cider, water, tea, tea, tea

54. I’m about to watch: Brooklyn 99 (The UK has it on netflix!!)

55. Waiting for: My betas to come back to me on my novel draft. Then it’s agent shopping!

56. Want: A cat, the ability to focus, the ability to read properly without stupid eye problems, a job, writing time

57. Get married: ... growing up I fantasized about getting married because I wanted my paternal cousins to meet my maternal cousins and I couldn’t think of any way that would likely happen apart from my marriage and I think they would get on like a house on fire.. this still seems like one of the only motivating factors for me ever to get married. 

58. Career: Author and poet and crazy cat lady

— Which is better

59. Hugs or kisses: hugs

60. Lips or eyes: Neither. I don’t actually like making eye contact even though I’ve learned to do it, and why would I stare at people’s mouths?

61. Shorter or taller: For a dance partner? Taller, but not significantly so. 

62. Older or younger: If this is meant to be about romantic partners? Because why would anyone ask this question? Significant age gaps are generally not a good thing either way, except possibly between two consenting adults who understand and work to alleviate the uneven power dynamic a significant age gap typically creates?

63. Nice arms or stomach: The heck?

64. Hookup or relationships: Relationships. 

65. Troublemaker or hesitant: Hesitant and trying to overcome it

— Have you ever

66. Kissed a stranger: NOPE

67. Drank hard liquor: See above regarding the horrors created by my taste buds and any alcohol.

68. Turned someone down: Yes. It was awwwkward, but he was a friend. Normally, when I suspect someone likes me, I run away and never speak to them again. Trying to get over that. 

69. Sex on first date: Uh nnnoooo

70: Broken someone’s heart: I hope not

71. Had your heart broken: By friendships, yeah.

72. Been arrested: Nope

73. Cried when someone died: Not really. 

74. Fallen for a friend: A couple times, but in like, a really aggressively platonic way

— Do you believe in

75. Yourself: Yes.

76. Miracles: Yes.

77. Love at first sight: Yes, because it basically happened to my parents. Theirs is a story of being bookstore managers, an immediate attraction, a mutual failure to understand origami, and a shared love of Star Trek. It would make a perfect rom com but there was literally no drama. My parents are adorable. 

78. Santa Claus: I have always had the ability to choose what I believe in. Santa Claus was one of those things, long after I knew the truth. 

79. Angels: Not really of the stereotypical “feathery wings and flawless skin” type. In the possibility or even likelihood of benevolent forces or beings outside human comprehension that are not a divine creator but may be from or of the divine, yes. This likely has a lot to do with how many times I read Narnia, The Dark is Rising, and A Wrinkle in Time as a kid, now I think about it. 

— Misc

80. Eye colour: Green

81. Best friend’s name: I have a few. One starts with a C. 

82. Favourite movie: The Fellowship of the Ring. Or 101 Dalmations. 

83. Favourite actor: Maggie Smith

84. Favourite cartoon: Avatar the Last Airbender. I didn’t discover it until I was about 18, but I love it to death. 

85. Religion: Ex-roman catholic Episcopalian 

Tagging @nerdiekatie, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @dragon-feathers, and @fantasiavii

[artificialqueens]

Beyond the Sea (Jadore) Chapter 1 - Eevee

Hiya! Eevee here with what I swear is a much happier fic. Welcome to the mermaid AU I have spent over a month pouring my heart into, Beyond the Sea! I do hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it. As of this submission, it has over 15k words written, and this is some of those.

A note regarding names: Jinkx is not a name a person would give a child. Thus, our protagonist is actually named Virginia or Ginny Monsoon. She gained the nickname Jinkx through being klutzy and rather unlucky. This is actually constant in all of my lesbian AUs, names being changed to sound more like real names.

I’ve yammered on long enough, welcome to Rapture Beyond the Sea!

Ginny walked the beach lazily. It was a cool fall night, no one else was there. Ginny didn’t mind that, she was happy to be alone with her thoughts. She hummed to herself, happy to walk in the moonlight. It had been another long, long, day of classes, and she was tired of being around people. She was just tired in general. ~*~*~*~*~ Adore was bored. She was lonely and bored. She wasn’t fond of being either. She decided she might as well head to the beach, maybe there would be something of interest there. ~*~*~*~*~ Virginia sat on the sand, looking at the moon and stars reflected in the water. She felt her eyes grow heavy, and she dozed off before she could try and do much about it. ~*~*~*~*~ Adore looked over the beach, her beach really, and sighed. There didn’t seem to be anything here. She turned to leave when she spotted something bright orange, it was a person, their hair fiery and lovely in the moonlight. Adore moved closer cautiously. Were they, were they asleep? “Hello?” Adore called out, almost without thinking. Ginny’s head snapped up. “I’m awake!” She yelped, a reflex. She looked around. Someone had said something, hadn’t they? But she didn’t see anyone on the beach. “Is someone there?” Adore bit her lip. She could leave, she should leave really, but something about this girl was calling her. “Turn around.” She said finally. Virginia blinked in confusion, but turned. There, in the water, was a girl who looked about her age. Her hair was long and a beautiful teal colour, and even from where Ginny was on the beach, she could see stunning green eyes looking at her. The girl in the water grinned at her. “Um, hello. What are you doing in the water this late?” Ginny asked. Adore smirked. “I’m a goddamn mermaid.” She didn’t know if the girl would believe her, but either way it seemed to be the only thing she could say. Ginny laughed. “You must be, I don’t see any clothes anywhere near here, how far away did you get in the water? Do you need help finding your stuff?” The ginger had moved to the edge of the water, looking at the girl in the ocean with concern. Adore shook her head. “Nah.” She swam closer to the shore, still mostly underwater, but she raised an arm. Beautiful blue scales glittered along the back of her arm, a fin extending from her wrist to her elbow. “Like I said. I’m a mermaid.” She ran her fingers through her hair, tugging a bit of seaweed out. Virginia stared at her in awe. “Holy shit.” Was all the human could think to say. The mermaid laughed, and Ginny could swear it sounded like music. “Who- how- what?” The ginger stuttered, not quite coherent. “Adore, I dunno, and mermaid.” Adore answered, smirking. “Who are you? What are you doing here so late?” Ginny took a deep breath. This was happening, whatever this was. “Um, Virginia. Virginia Monsoon. Friends call me Ginny. Was taking a walk to clear my head.” She shook her head. “Adore. That’s such a pretty name.” Virginia blushed, some combination of confused and charmed by this woman in the water. “Ginny? Hmm. Not what I’d choose for you.” Adore said pensively. “It’s not a very mer name.” “But I’m not a mermaid.” Virginia pointed out. Adore waved a hand. “Right, fuck, getting ahead of myself. But you are cute.” The mermaid was in the shallows now, tail visible in the water, glistening in every shade of blue. She had delicate stripes running from her spine to wrap halfway around her tail in the darkest navy and the palest cyan, all against a stunning sapphire background. She wrung her hair out a bit, letting it fall around her.

Ginny was positive her face was redder than her hair now, she was blushing so hard. She looked at Adore more closely, she was stunning. She had what looked like seaweed woven into something like a bra around her chest, and there were pearls strung into her hair. Virginia suddenly realized she had stepped up close enough to reach out and touch the mermaid, and she raised a hand cautiously. “May I?” She asked, searching the green eyes that stared back at her. Adore joined her hand with Ginny’s. “Hell yeah.” The mermaid pulled the human towards her and kissed her, needing to feel the soft pink lips against her own. Virginia’s eyes went wide as Adore pulled her forward, but she relaxed into the kiss as soon as she realized what was happening. Adore’s lips were soft and salty, and Ginny loved it. She opened her mouth and the mermaid took advantage, causing Ginny to moan happily. When Adore pulled back, Ginny could barely remember how to breathe. “Ohmigod. Don’t faint, Jinkx, don’t faint…” she mumbled to herself. Adore quirked an eyebrow. “Jinkx?” She asked, feeling the power of the name. “Now that’s a fucking mer name. Names have power, for us anyway.” Jinkx blushed even brighter red. “Oh, Jinkx is sort of my nickname… I have pretty bad luck. I didn’t want you to think…” she trailed off, staring very intently at her boots. A small wave chose that moment to wash over the beach, just high enough to get into Jinkx’ boots. “Aw fuck.” Adore laughed. “Oh dear. Do you mind if I call you Jinkx? I think it’s cute.” The mermaid gently put her hand under Jinkx’ chin and tilted her face back up to look her in the eyes. Jinkx nodded. “Okay. Now, Jinkx, this might sound crazy, but. You wanna fucking, come with me?” Jinkx’ brow furrowed. “You mean, come swimming?” Adore bit her lip. That wasn’t exactly what she meant, but she had never turned a human before anyway. She might as well start slow. “If you want to, I mean. We could have fun.” Jinkx shook her head. “I can’t swim too well.” Adore lifted her tail to catch the moonlight. “I’ll make sure you’re okay.” Jinkx smiled. “Tomorrow, okay? I’ll come back with a swimsuit and a towel and stuff. We can swim then.” “Tomorrow night, please? People might be here in the day. I don’t want to be discovered. And… I am Adore Delano. My bloodline is of the night, that’s what it means.” Jinkx knew Adore had said names had power, for merfolk anyway, but… “If you don’t want to be found, why did you tell me, you know, that you’re a mermaid?” Adore blushed for the first time that Jinkx was aware. “I’m lonely. This beach is closed off by a reef, my pod was passing it when I got thrown in here by a wave. I was young then, too small to escape the current. I heard my pod, they found a scrap of my tail on the other side of the reef, they thought I had died. They’re long gone now.” Adore waved her tail again, there was a sizable tear in her tail fin, and Jinkx winced. “So you’re all alone? And you can’t get back?” “Maybe I could, but I’m nervous about leaving. There’s fish here, it’s easy to hunt, and the reef is far enough from the shore for me to be safe from humans here in the lagoon.” Adore shrugged. “I don’t really remember them so well. It’s been a long time.” “But your family… we have to get you back.” Jinkx decided. “I’ll help you find them.” Adore raised her eyebrows. “You, a girl who can’t swim, are going to help me, a mermaid, find a pod of mermaids who are very good at evading humans somewhere in the vastness of the ocean?” Adore asked. Jinkx huffed. She had a point. But Jinkx wasn’t one to back away from something she was determined to do. “I can learn to swim.” She answered lamely, and Adore laughed. “You’re cute. I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?” Adore plucked a scale off her arm, and pressed it into Jinkx’ palm. Jinkx curled her fingers around the scale. “What’s this for?” She clutched it tight in her hand, making sure she didn’t drop it. “Just- don’t lose it okay?” Adore couldn’t explain it, not yet. “Good night, Jinkx Monsoon.” She kissed Jinkx briefly and then was gone in the water.

[paganinpurple]

Flirting For The Entitled - Ch 2

I really do have NO CHILL. I couldn’t stop thinking about this silly little Christmas time prompt and what might have happened next. I am not actively working on this, but I’ll write little snippets as ideas come to me. 

I’m thinking less a coherent plot and more slices of life. They may get posted out of chronological order if I think of something but I’ll try to re-label the chapters chronologically if that happens.

Ideas or prompts for this would always be welcome!

Read on other websites

Buy Me A Coffee?

<<Ch 1   Ch 2   Ch3> (who knows when? If ever)

Back To School

Nathaniel abruptly slammed his sketchbook shut with a loud groan, his head falling forward and eyes shutting.

He just couldn't draw.

This had never happened to him. He'd had art blocks before obviously, but usually he would just change the drawing or doodle silly little pieces instead of anything important until it passed. He tended to get over it quickly enough that it was never an issue. But since the party a couple of weeks ago, sketching had gotten harder and harder to concentrate on and now even the most childish scribblings doodled in the margins of his notebook were—at best—abstract nonsense.

He kept his eyes closed, hugging the sketchpad to his lap tightly as the cool January air chilled him and he began to rock back and forth lightly to the music coming from his earbuds in an attempt to warm up.

He'd tried yet again to fit in a quick sketch, this time before the first day of school after New Year and so he'd arrived an extra ten minutes before he normally would have. Finding an empty bench had proved easier this way and he'd decided to just let his hand lead him across the paper in a sort of instinctual trust exercise. He'd thought the generic face he created had been a somewhat positive step away from his art block and had happily continued to draw without thinking, adding a few wisps of hair across the brow before adding a ponytail to make it a girl of some sort. The head had looked too bare so he had added a simple Alice band, detailing it more heavily when it appeared too subtle. Before he'd realised the head piece had turned into a pair of shades and he'd changed the mouth to show off a slight smirk.

That was when he'd slammed the book shut. Because while the picture wasn't yet Chloé, it was definitely on its way to becoming her and he couldn't deny it no matter how hard he tried.

Despite what she seemed to want he didn't like her that way so Nathaniel wasn't worried that her face might keep cropping up in his drawings because of some kind of hidden crush on her. But he had to admit that the shock of what she'd confessed to him at his party had sunken into his bones now and he couldn't avoid the weight of the knowledge on him every day. His mind kept drifting back to thoughts of her regularly as he tried to puzzle out if there was a moment he could pin down when she started liking him.

He'd cast his mind back constantly, first to the days preceding her little confession, then the weeks leading up to it and he'd discovered that she had indeed been really nice to him - in her own way, of course. Though he was seriously struggling to find anything that gave a sharp contrast between the then and now. Her behaviour seemed to have gradually morphed from mean to cheeky to coquettish in such a smooth transition that he was now pressed to find much difference between her insults and her teases other than her tone. For instance, she had regularly given him nicknames, most notably calling him Red but also throwing in any reference to the colour of his hair she could (Solo cup, Tomato, Stop sign, Clifford, the list went on). He had never really liked them but they hadn't been as bad as some of her past behaviour so he had built up a tolerance to them, assuming they were just low-grade insults. But lately they had seemed much more affectionate ways of getting his attention instead.

But what had messed him up the most, he decided, was the realisation that she had been flirting with him the whole time. A smirky smile here, a light brush against his arm there. The compliments he'd mistaken for insults were delivered just a bit too coyly to be anything as simple as praise for his drawing ability or interest in how well he was pulling off his outfit.

He groaned again as hindsight made him realise that one had been a particularly obvious innuendo which he'd completely missed at the time and his face burned in embarrassment at the memory of her little eyebrow raise when he'd failed to react.

He jumped suddenly when he felt a tap on his shoulder and he looked up to see the girl herself, standing in front of him in her warm winter coat and – he gulped – smiling sweetly at him. He quickly removed one of his earbuds to hear her.

“God, just how loud do you have that stuff Netflix?” she asked once she could see he was free to listen, “I must have said your name three times before I gave in and shook you.”

“Uh huh,” he said, an eyebrow raising sceptically, “How did you know I wasn't just tuning out those dumb nicknames and holding out till you used my actual name?”

“Oh please,” she said waving a gloved hand dismissively, “I have to use them all till I find my favourite. Although I think 'Red' is winning to be honest.”

She sat down beside him and before he automatically moved his leg away from her, Nathaniel reminded his self-preservation instincts strongly that he had promised to give her a chance at being his friend. He was not going to shrink away in fear of her saying something hurtful when she seemed to be trying so hard.

“So, what are you listening to anyway?” she asked tapping at the lose earbud which now dangled limply from the other, blaring away into the crisp air.

“Oh,” he said as he picked up the wire to ease the extra weight on his other ear, “It's a prog-rock band. I like a lot of their stuff but it's, uh a bit weird if you're not used to it.” Hesitantly, he offered her the other earbud. “Wanna see what you think?” he asked.

Chloé's eyes and smile widened and he swore the blue of her irises brightened as she looked at him. She gently took the offered wire from him, her clothed fingers brushing his bare ones as she did. She blushed heavily but didn't shy away like some girls might have and Nath suddenly felt his insides squirm uncomfortably.

He forced himself to refocus as he watched her reaction to the music playing in her ear. He couldn't hold back the snicker that escaped as she frowned and turned back towards him with a confused pout.

“What the hell?” she asked, puzzled, “What language is this? It's not French and I grew up around Daddy using English often enough to know it's not that either.”

“It's a language the band made up just for their music,” he told her, “Told you Magma are a bit strange.”

His laughter halted as her face turned suddenly devious and she leaned in towards him till he found himself leaning back in order to keep a comfortable amount of personal space between them.

“Magma?” she asked slyly, relenting in her invasion of his personal bubble and sitting upright again slowly as she watched him right himself as well.

“Uh, yeah?” he asked, brushing his hair out of his face in a nervous gesture to distract himself from how close she had gotten.

“As in red and hot? With a fiery interior hidden under a shy mountain?” she asked almost too innocently, the corner of her mouth tilted up to belay that she knew exactly what she was implying.

“Uh, um...” he said eloquently.

“I think I've found a new niiiiicknaaaame,” she sing-songed, her head bopping left and right.

“So, Lava boy, let me hear your favourite track before class starts already.”

Nathaniel fumbled for the controls on his phone while simultaneously fighting down the flush of pink dusting across his cheeks and darkening with every second. He had just started the song he liked best when Chloé rested her head against his shoulder to listen. He jumped a little and his phone flew out of his hand. He grappled with it comically for a second as he desperately tried to get a good hold of it before it finally hit the courtyard floor, pulling the buds from their ears as it went.

He groaned as Chloé moved to let him pick it up, eyeing the nasty crack in the screen as he did so. He ran his finger across the raised line and wondered if it would affect the functions or just be an eyesore for the next year until his parents let him have a new model.

“That was my fault, wasn't it?” she asked with a tremor to her voice.

“Nah,” he said, “you didn't do anything wrong. Don't worry about it.”

“But, I... surprised you,” she said, sounding guilty, “If you're free after school I'll take you to the person daddy has fix my phone when I drop it. They can usually fix a small crack like that in a couple of hours and I'll pay for it since it was my fault? I'll even buy you a coffee to make up for it?”

“Um, okay. Thanks,” he said blinking back at her genuine look of remorse.

“Great!” she squealed as her face broke out in a victorious smirk. She jumped up from the bench and moved backwards a few steps away from him as he watched with bewilderment. Her sudden movement and squeal had attracted a few onlookers from the courtyard and his eyes flickered around to make brief contact with some of his classmates. Amongst the small crowd he spotted Ivan, Mylène and Juleka who all regarded Chloé with barely hidden suspicion and Adrien and Nino who simply looked confused. He glanced back up at Chloé as her gaze completed the same circuit of people watching them before she narrowed her eyes seductively at him and winked.

“Then it's a date!” she announced loudly before turning on her heel and heading for the stairs to head to class.

There was a moment of complete, utter silence as everyone processed the blonde's words before turning in unison to stare at the red-headed, red-faced boy sitting wide-eyed and stunned on the bench before them.

So... Chloé had just sort-of asked him on a date. And he had unknowingly agreed. Which was sort-of terrifying, but not in the way he expected it to be. Which in of itself was vaguely terrifying too. And on top of that, she'd made sure everyone had known about it. Chloé Bourgeois wasn't trying to hide the fact that she liked him.

“Come on,” a gruff voice said.

Nath felt a hand rest on his shoulder and looked up with dazed eyes at Ivan.

“What?”

“It's time for class,” the larger boy told him, “You can freak out after roll call when no one can see you behind me. But right now, you're going to be late.”

“Right...” he said, still not in full control of his mental facilities but allowing his friend to guide him towards the stairs and the classroom.

Now if he could just make it past Chloé's desk without collapsing he could at least tally up one win for the morning.

Buy Me A Coffee?

Thomas Astruc has pointed out that the emblem on Nath’s t-shirt is based on the band Magma’s symbol so I glanced at their Wikipedia page and discovered they have their own language for their music. I thought it appropriate that Nathaniel like their music.

[jbankai89]

Never Let Me Go [20/37]

A/N: Sorry for the delay! My internet connectivity is ridiculous right now. Next update will be December 12th.

Chapter Nineteen – Emergency Exit

Yuri tapped gently on Minami's bedroom door, and when it opened the young omega's eyes went wide at the sight of what Yuri was holding—a modest but tasteful bouquet of pink lilies wrapped in cellophane, and held together with a rose-coloured ribbon.

“For me?” Minami squeaked as he eyed the flowers with confusion and wonder.

“They're from Phichit,” Yuri explained with a wince, and felt his stomach knot when he saw Minami go pale. “They came with a note—an apology note.”

“Oh, um, c-come in...” Minami stepped back and looked around, a lost look in his eyes, as though he had no idea what to do or how to react. Yuri could see the omega beginning to tremble, and he set aside the bouquet upon the vanity quickly before he rushed to Minami and rested his hands on the omega's shoulders.

“Breathe, Minami,” Yuri said firmly. “He's not Seung-Gil, and he has no plans to hurt you or harass you. He sent the flowers because he felt bad for scaring you. Do you want me to read the note to you?”

Minami's bottom lip quivering a little, he hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

“All right then,” Yuri said with a small, reassuring smile, “come on, let's sit down...”

Yuri led Minami over to the settee and coaxed him down onto it. He went back to the bouquet and plucked off the note before he moved back to join Minami, who was still shivering nervously, and Yuri sat at the omega's side. Yuri opened the envelope and tugged the short letter out; he'd read it before, to make sure that Phichit wouldn't say anything that might make Minami more anxious, and he found it to be surprisingly sweet, which was strange, given that Phichit was an alpha.

 Dear Kenjiro Minami, Yuri read,

I hope this letter and gift find you well, and I hope it doesn't upset you more. I don't want anything from you, and I think that you may have misunderstood my intentions around the stupid comment I made to you the other day. I really didn't know all the details of what happened, and Yuuri won't tell me much, which is okay, really, because it's not my business.

I sent these flowers to you as a way to say how sorry I am for upsetting you. I won't lie, I found you attractive, but it doesn't mean I plan on doing anything about it. I would like to get to know you, but if I'm being too pushy, you can tell Yuuri to tell me to back off, and I will, I promise. I'm guessing you asking me that directly might be asking a little much, given what I know about what happened to you, so I'm okay with hearing it from Yuuri. I can't even imagine how hard this must be for you, going through what you did, and I want to help, if you'll let me. I know I can't make the pain go away, but maybe I can help make it less, if you want, that is.

If you want nothing to do with me, that's all right too, and again, I really am sorry for upsetting you.

Phichit Chulanont

 “He also included a selfie of himself with like three hamsters,” Yuri finished, and held up the picture for Minami to see. The younger omega smiled weakly, his knees drawn up to his chest, and he reached out for the photograph. Yuri let him have it, and watched as Minami looked down at it, childlike, his brow furrowed with concentration, almost like he was trying to memorize every aspect of the picture.

“Do you think I'm being selfish, freaking out like I did at him?” Minami asked softly, his eyes still fixed upon the photo.

“No,” Yuri replied as he tossed down the note on the coffee table. “I'd be more worried if you were totally accepting of his come-ons. You need time to fix yourself before you'll feel ready to be with someone again.”

“And...do you think he means it?” Minami asked in the same soft, uncertain tone of voice, “the backing off part, I mean.”

“It's hard to say with alphas,” Yuri replied, his mouth twitching into a small frown. “A lot of them think they can take what they want, not just ask for it, but...he seems sincere. I'd keep your guard up, though.”

“Before he said...that to me, he seemed nice,” Minami remarked, and moved to drop the photograph next to the letter, though it seemed to be a genuine struggle for Minami to let it go. His expression was conflicted, but he could see the interest glimmering just behind his eyes. Seeing it, Yuri felt a strange sense of familiarity as his mind jumped back to Otabek. Yuri shook his head minutely in an effort to stay focused on the conversation, and not dwell on his own problems when Minami obviously needed him. “Do you...um, I mean...” he flushed a deep red, and smiled faintly. “Do you think he'd wait for me? I like Otabek, and I don't mind being near him, but I don't know Phichit, and I don't...I don't really know what he's like when he's alone. What if he's like...him?”

“Call me an optimist, but somehow I doubt it,” Yuri replied with a weak smile. “I can't really see Yuuri being friends with someone like that.”

A soft tapping upon the door drew the pair from their conversation, and they both looked up at the same time to see Otabek peering into the room with a small, uncertain smile upon his face.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, “but I brought a vase for your flowers; I wasn't sure if you wanted to keep them or not, but if you decide to, you'll need something to put them in.”

He held up a fine crystal vase as evidence, and Minami's smile seemed to brighten. Yuri watched as Minami jumped up and trotted over to Otabek, very much like an excited puppy, and muttered a quick thank-you for the vase before he turned to the bouquet and proceeded to arrange the flowers neatly, before winding the ribbon around the vase itself, then carried the whole thing to the bathroom, presumably to fill with water.

An awkward silence descended between Yuri and Otabek as Minami disappeared, and Yuri bit his lip as his gaze jumped between the ajar bathroom door and Otabek. The alpha seemed to be having a similar struggle, and was eyeing Yuri was a familiar sort of longing, though at the same time he seemed to be trying to hide it behind a neutral mask—with little success.

I am definitely going to regret this, Yuri thought as he made a split-second decision, and jumped off the sofa, rushed over to Otabek, threw his arms over the alpha's shoulders, and kissed him hard.

Otabek staggered back a little, startled by the sudden show of affection, but his hands fell almost at once to Yuri's waist, holding him close as he returned the kiss.

“What was that for?” Otabek asked, his voice low and husky as they parted and he regarded Yuri through lidded eyes. The omega felt his cheeks warm with embarrassment, but that did not stop him from going in for another kiss.

“I've decided,” Yuri whispered, punctuating his words with more gentle kisses. “If you're willing to, I want you to wait for me.”

Otabek's arms tensed around Yuri's waist, and he raised his eyebrows, a mixed look of confusion and astonishment registering on his face.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I want to be free, I want it more than anything else in the world,” Yuri explained softly, but in a strong, confident tone of voice. For the first time in a long time, he *knew what he wanted, and he'd be damned if he let the chance to voice it slip away from him. “But I also want you. I think I understand now, why you want me to go first, but I want to come back to you.”

This time, it was Otabek who reacted first. A hand snaked up Yuri's back, over the nape of his neck, and buried itself in his hair. He fisted the strands, tugging on them, but not painfully so as he pulled Yuri into a fierce kiss that caused the omega to gasp softly before he returned it with equal enthusiasm.

“Yuri...” Otabek whispered against his mouth, and Yuri keened softly in response, but both men had most unfortunately forgotten completely that they were standing in the doorway of someone else's bedroom—until they were interrupted by a soft, pointed cough.

Both Yuri and Otabek turned to see the other omega smiling at them knowingly. Yuri opened and closed his mouth several times, his face flooding with colour as he tried to find the right words to explain himself, but Minami merely shook his head and waved them off.

“We've all known that it was only a matter of time before you two finally worked out your differences,” Minami said cheerfully. “Go and be together, or cuddle, or something. You two deserve it.”

“But what about—” Yuri began, his eyes falling to the vase of flowers that Minami was now arranging carefully upon his vanity. Minami seemed to know what Yuri was about to say however, and cut him off with a small shake of his head.

“—I'm okay, Yuri, really. I've got a lot to think about, but you need time for you, too, not just taking care of me.” He offered the couple a small smile. “I'm not helpless. I'm okay.”

“We'll be nearby if you change your mind,” Otabek said, his hands dropping to Yuri's waist, and Minami smiled at them both warmly.

“Thank you.”

Yuri offered Minami one final small smile before he allowed Otabek to lead him from the room. He could feel his omega instincts positively preen at allowing Otabek take charge, even if it was momentary, which left Yuri feeling strangely conflicted.

How much of this is real?

I like how I feel when I'm with him, and it kills me to leave, but is that really me thinking, or am I finally broken?

Yuri shivered, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Otabek frown at him.

“Yuri? Are you all right?” the alpha asked as he led him into the living room and sat down. Yuri quickly followed suit, and cuddled into Otabek's side.

“Just thinking,” he mumbled as Otabek's arms coiled around him, and he shivered a little with both want and confusion.

“About what?” Otabek asked, then added hastily, “if you don't mind me asking.”

“Just...this,” Yuri replied vaguely with a small shrug. “It's still hard to figure out what parts are me, and what I really feel, and what parts are my mind giving into...well, you.”

“I wish I could say that it's completely how you feel, Yuri, but in all likelihood, a large part of it is your mind breaking down a little,” Otabek said. “And to indulge you like I have lately...I wonder if that was more damaging than any of the other things I did to you. That is why I keep saying that you need to go. Once you are away from me, I think it will be easier for you to decide with a clear head what you really want.”

Yuri frowned as he shifted closer to Otabek. Otabek's arms tightened around him protectively, but other than that, he did nothing.

“If it's so foggy about what I want,” Yuri said after a moment's pause, “why do you indulge me like this at all?”

His question was met with a warm chuckle, and Otabek pressed a gentle kiss to his temple.

“Because I am not a good man, Yuri,” Otabek whispered, his voice a low purr that made Yuri shiver. “I am a bad, bad man. I am taking advantage of you, and I know it, but I am too weak-minded to stop. I keep thinking, what if he decides I am not good enough for him after he leaves, and stays gone? I wish to take advantage of the short time you let me hold you like this. Even if it isn't real for you, even if it's your mind doing what it can to survive, I want it, even if it's only for a little while.”

Yuri turned in the embrace, and kissed Otabek gently. Otabek kissed him back without hesitation as he tugged Yuri into his lap, enabling the omega to straddle him while they kissed, awkwardly and nervously mapping each other's faces with gentle touches.

“It doesn't feel like it,” Yuri remarked suddenly, and Otabek eyed him quizzically.

“What doesn't feel like what?” Otabek asked, his hand trailing up Yuri's back to toy with his hair absentmindedly.

“It doesn't feel wrong, or...or like you're taking advantage,” Yuri explained awkwardly. “It just feels...safe. Confusing, but safe.”

“Such a thing rarely does,” Otabek replied softly and he coaxed Yuri to kiss him again, which he did willingly. “I do believe part of what you are voicing is Stockholm Syndrome. Definitely not as seriously as Yuuri, but that's what worries me. More than wanting you all to myself, I don't want you to be mine because of damage I did to you. That's yet another reason on the long list of reasons why you need to go, and not stay with me—not yet.”

Yuri wrapped his arms around Otabek's neck, and heaved a small sigh. Everything with the alpha was always so confusing. He wished it could be easy, and simple, like it was for the betas. Yuri buried his face in the crook of Otabek's neck and inhaled, and the familiar scent of overpriced cologne and alpha musk made him tremble with delight.

He wanted to remember it after he was gone.

A sudden soft tapping upon the living room door drew Yuri and Otabek's attention away from each other, and when Yuri looked up, he spotted an older man in a suit standing in the doorway—a man that he did not recognize.

“Master Otabek,” he said with a short, respectful bow. “Apologies for interrupting, but this came for you, it appears to be quite urgent.”

The man held up a white manila envelope, and Otabek's brow furrowed with concern and curiosity. Sensing that their moment was over, Yuri reluctantly slid from Otabek's lap as the man approached and handed the envelope to Otabek. He bowed his way out, and when Yuri was certain that he was out of earshot, he turned his attention back to Otabek.

“Who was that?” Yuri hissed softly, “he doesn't look familiar.”

“New butler,” Otabek replied distractedly, “I had to purge the staff recently—a few were complaining about how I handled you, as they put it, and claimed I was letting you run roughshod over the whole estate, like you were a misbehaving child or something...” Otabek slit the envelope open, and pulled out a single slip of paper, and immediately cursed.

“What is it?” Yuri asked, and watched with wide eyes as Otabek jumped up and began to pace, one hand in his hair as he stared at the letter in the opposing limb with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“Go get your grandfather and Minami,” Otabek instructed in a firm tone that implied that he was not to argue the point. “Bring them here, and I'll explain. We need—” Otabek broke off and shook his head. “Just get them, and I'll explain. This concerns all of us.”

Sensing that whatever it was, it was very serious, Yuri did not hesitate, and with a quick nod he jumped to his feet and hastened from the room.

 Yuri was almost too nervous to speak, and barely managed to choke out a, “Otabek wants us all in the living room,” to Minami and his grandfather. They both seemed to understand the urgency of the situation, and did not question Yuri as he led them back downstairs where Otabek was still pacing with the letter in hand. They all sat down without having to be asked, Yuri and Minami next to each other on the sofa, and Nikolai in the leather armchair nearer to the fireplace. Minami curled into Yuri's side like he always did, but Yuri did not protest it. Something told him that whatever Otabek had called them all here for, it wasn't good.

“Otabek?” Yuri prompted in a small voice when the alpha did not immediately speak, and continued to pace. Otabek slowed to a stop and looked up, an expression of surprise upon his face, as though he had no idea how Yuri and the others had gotten there. He glanced down at the letter in his hand, and back up to the others, and heaved a soft sigh of resignation.

“I received a letter just now from the Omega Relocation Office,” Otabek said dully, and everyone gasped at the same time. Had it not been for the tense situation, the response would have been almost funny, but there was no room for humour in the same sentence as Omega Relocation Office. They had but one purpose—to remove omegas from alphas deemed unfit to care for them and keep them in line, and they were sent to a foster alpha for retraining.

“They wish to come here and evaluate how you and Minami are being treated by me, according to a report from an anonymous source,” Otabek said, his voice almost hollow. “I guess Stephenson or Davies tipped them off. Honestly, I feel so stupid for not seeing this coming, but there's nothing I can do about that now.”

“But what are we going to do?” Yuri asked, his voice shaking a little. “Are you going to actually show up to this evaluation thing?”

“No,” Otabek replied at once. “I'm going to rush through your tickets and get you out of the country. Minami, would you feel comfortable going to stay with Viktor and Yuuri for a while? I believe Phichit is still there, but it's only for a few more days, and we need to move now. If I can get everything in order before they realize what I'm doing and they freeze my accounts, I think we can all scatter and lay low until I work out how to get the accusations dropped...hopefully without bloodshed this time.”

Otabek's eye caught Yuri's, and the omega inclined his head once in understanding.

“I think I can...” Minami replied, his voice quivering a little, but he seemed to understand the gravity of the situation as he nodded. “But won't these people look there once they realize we've gone?”

“They will, but when they go to the Nikiforov residence, they won't find you,” Otabek replied calmly, but it did not seem to reassure the young omega at all.

“What do you mean?”

“Have you ever read the book, Diary of Anne Frank?”

“Ah,” Yuri said with a chuckle, “I get it.”

“I don't,” Minami replied as he pouted. “What does some old book have to do with anything?”

“He means to hide you in the walls and keep you there secretly, like people who helped Jews in Nazi Germany and things like that,” Yuri explained, and understanding dawned on Minami's face.

“Oh. Like a sneaky cat in a dormitory!” Minami exclaimed, and Otabek laughed.

“Yes, exactly. It's something Viktor and I discussed in case something like this should ever happen. He has a few hidden compartments built into his house which you will be able to use if the ORO come looking,” Otabek said, and sobered up as he shifted his gaze to Yuri and Nikolai, then back to Minami. “Pack a bag, take only what you absolutely need. We'll leave in the morning.”

Minami was on his feet and out of the room in an instant, closely followed by Yuri's grandfather. Yuri stood up to follow them, but felt, strangely, as though his feet had suddenly been glued to the floor.

“Yuri?” Otabek asked, “are you all right?”

“I'm not going to see you again, am I?” Yuri asked hollowly, and gazed over at the alpha miserably. Otabek frowned, and crossed the room. Immediately, Yuri folded himself into Otabek's arms. He swallowed thickly, and let out a small sniffle, but despite his efforts, he still felt tears sting his eyes. Otabek's hand fell to Yuri's hair, and he carded his fingers through the blond locks gently.

“Honestly? I don't know, Yuri,” Otabek replied softly before he kissed the top of his head. “I don't know what's going to happen.”

“I didn't think this would end so soon,” Yuri mumbled with another soft sniff. “I know we talked about me leaving, but it didn't seem real...” his fingers tensed in the folds of Otabek's shirt as he looked up at the alpha, blinking once, and finally allowed the tears to fall. Otabek's arms tensed around him, and Yuri shifted, trying to get closer to him.

“I know, sweetheart,” Otabek murmured, and Yuri shivered a little at the pet name as he gazed up at the alpha. “But it...it...we need to do it. For you, and for me.”

“I don't want to leave,” Yuri said in a rush as his voice cracked, “I—I don't want to go.”

“You have to—we I will die before I let you get taken to a foster alpha. I'd never put even my worst enemy through something like that.”

Yuri did not know what to say. So many emotions were rushing through him, and he did not know which one to address first. He wanted to beg Otabek to come with him, what was right about this stupid separation he was so set on be damned. The idea that something might happen to Otabek because of all he'd done of late for Yuri and Minami made his heart ache, and never in his life had he felt so scared for someone else—someone who was not his grandfather, that is.

“Will you give me something to remember you by?” Yuri asked as he continued to cling to Otabek, his eyes wide and shining.

“What do you want, Yuri?”

Otabek's voice, low and intense, sounded the same as it always did, albeit with a note of anguish to it for what they were about to do. Yuri knew what he wanted, he knew he probably shouldn't, but at the moment, he didn't care.

Yuri arched up and kissed him.

It was not one of their more simple, tender, and sweet kisses that they had shared up to that point. There was a heat to it, burning under Yuri's skin like fire as he parted his lips in an effort to deepen the kiss. Otabek's arms tensed around him, and he seemed to be shaking a little, though Yuri could not tell whether this was an attempt to curb his own longing, or from anguish at their imminent parting.

“Yuri...” Otabek breathed softly, “I—I don't—”

“Shh,” Yuri hushed him, his lips mere millimetres from Otabek's, “please, just let me have this...”

Otabek's eyes were terribly conflicted, clouded with lust from the omega pressing himself so insistently up against him, but also filled with concern, as though he knew how wrong it was to indulge not just himself, but Yuri as well.

For once, Yuri didn't care. His heat was very close, but as far as Otabek knew, it had not come yet, and despite the alpha's claims that they needed to separate and take some time apart, Yuri simply did not care.

He needed this.

Otabek's reservations seemed to crumble as Yuri kissed him, and with a soft groan he swept the omega into his arms, and with their mouths still latched together, he carried him up to his bedroom.

A/N: If you like my work, please consider throwing a few bucks into my Digital Tip Jar. I am a starving artist, and I like not actually starving to death :P

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