#i'm not black myself so i can't speak on this with too much authority

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

it's really weird that the main villain of spop is black-coded when he's a fucking colonizer.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hey, so you seem to be the the All Knowing in terms of twst. With Glorious Masquerade getting a rerun soon, I was looking at the cards.

So what the heck is up with Jamil's freaking hat? I'm sorry but I can't look at it without laughing. It looks so stupid. The closest thing I can think of that matches it is the combined crowns of upper and lower Egypt, but this is the equivalent of France so that can't be it.

While I’m flattered that people come to me with their questions, I want to take a moment to remind everyone that I’m just another TWST fan like you are! ^^ It’s stressful to be considered “all knowing” or a fandom authority 💦 That puts a lot of pressure on me to speak on certain subjects or to interact in a certain way (since people might put too much stock into what I say), and then that ends up detracting from my enjoyment. I’d rather not be put on such a high pedestal, please and thank you.

Now, onto the question!

According to Rollo in 1-13 of Glorious Masquerade, the costumes the NRC students were gifted are “patterned after designs that are over 500 years old.”

If we extrapolate this to real life, the implication is that these costumes have roots in Renaissance era (14th century to 17th century) French fashion. Interestingly, Rollo’s own hat is similar to a tricorne, which was primarily worn in the 18th century… so technically, his hat is more “modern” than what the NRC students wear 😂

So I browsed through records of hats from the indicated period and guess what? I couldn’t find an exact match—though I did find a lot of hat designs that I found way sillier than what the NRC boys have. Like… sorry, what is THAT 😭

Some headwear which bears a vague similarity to Jamil’s hat are the Egyptian combined/double crown (the pschent), which Anon has already mentioned, and the French hood, which was worn by women in the 15th century.

The actual closest match I came across was the mitre, a liturgical headdresses worn by Roman Catholic officials. If you look at it from the front, it doesn’t look like much, but it definitely has the height of Jamil’s hat. But then look closer and you’ll realize the mitre does not have one single flap of fabric, but rather two.

If you take the front flap of a mitre and fold it back, you would probably get something very similar to what Jamil wears. (Note that the black part of the hat is NOT his hair, but is fabric that is part of the hat.)

Considering that Noble Bell College is styled like a cathedral and that the Renaissance era from which the Masquerade Dress clothing derives is characterized by the rediscovery of classical literature, art, and philosophy… perhaps it’s not so strange to see a hat borne of religious associations.

… Why did Jamil specifically get this hat? Not sure, I’m not religious myself so don’t ask me to psychoanalyze him from that angle 😂

The golden part securing the front is unusual and does not appear in French fashion of the time (at least not from what I could tell?). It’s styled like pschent but more likely is meant to be turban-like due to Jamil’s inspiration, Jafar, having the same feather sticking up in the middle of a bulbous hat. You’ll notice Jamil had a “feather” too, albeit metal:

To summarize, I think the design of Masquerade Dress Jamil’s hat borrows from multiple inspirations and not just one/old French fashion. Yana has stated before in a March 2023 interview with the Apple App Store that the cultures of Twisted Wonderland are unique and that the clothing that appears in the game are not “reinterpretations of existing costumes”. She seems to incorporate elements from both high fashion and from a variety of cultures to arrive at the final designs. For example, there are elements of many Nordic cultures in the Apple Pom outfits, and the Pomefiore uniform has a Japanese kimono-like silhouette despite the dorm being based on the the Evil Queen (originating from a German tale). I assume something similar happened when designing the Masquerade Dresses; Yana and co. wanted to combine elements and make something of their own.

Final comment I'll make, the shape of Jamil's hat looks like a kind of dumpling... It makes me hungry.

[kusagrasskusa]

MK Villains meeting/hearing about their (and your) child - PART 2

Erron Black, Shang Tsung, Baraka, Kano, Quan Chi, Shao Kahn edition! (Part 1)

This time, we’ll be featuring…

Shinnok, Dark Raiden, Noob / Bi Han (he wasn’t very good), Scorpion, Reptile!

Enjoy ;) @kryptofancientdreams

Shinnok

Shinnok: My child, where had you gone?

Child: My brothers and I have a plan to defeat you.

Shinnok: Then, I suppose they will have to go through with it without you.

—

Raiden: You fall from the light, sister.

Child: We are the children of Shinnok- you are just as horrible as I.

Raiden: You’re speaking just like him.

—

You: You promised our child the Netherrealm, then go missing.

Shinnok: A couple of inconveniences got in the way.

You: That human actor? Are you the same husband as before?

—

Child: I’ll kill Quan Chi myself if you can’t.

Shinnok: He is much stronger than yourself. Just wait until I win it over for you.

Child: *Pout* why! I can defeat you, so why let do it?

—

You: You need to talk to your son.

Kronika: Why so?

You: He fails to give [child] the gift of the Netherrealm.

—

Shinnok: Have you met your [sister/brother]?

Raiden: She is no sister of mine.

Shinnok: You may ignore the truth, but you know your place.

—

Child: You can't hide from fate.

Shinnok: My fate is not to die at the end of a worthless human's blade.

Child: A demi-god. And Cage proves humans aren't so wortthless.

—

Child: Brother! He escaped!

Raiden: Do you think yourself powerful enough to defeat him?

Child: Perhaps... If you can prove it.

—

Johnny Cage: Your daddy ever tell you about me?

Child: I tell him about you, actually, Ninja Mime.

Johnny Cage: Then be ready to tell him about this, got it?

—

Raiden: How does a human betray her realm?

You: If my child can have a father, that's how.

Raiden: A kind sentiment, with horrible reasoning.

—

Fujin: I had no idea we had a sister.

Raiden: If the reader has a thing for Shang Tsung and would like to see our sister...

Fujin: The author has a story for that? Can I check it out here?

—

Fujin: I won't call you mother.

You: I don't expect you to. You're a grown ma- God.

Fujin: Just making sure you're fine with that.

—

You: Give [child] back!

Raiden: I will not let you or Shinnok destroy my [sister/brother].

You: You fool! This is why Shinnok hates you!

Dark Raiden

You: Are you even going to be there for [child]?

Raiden: [She/he] can live without me. But [she/he] cannot live without Earthrealm.

You: I won't let you leave so easily this time!

—

Fujin: Where is your father?

You: I won't let you find him.

Fujin: The darkness grows over you too. I'm sorry, niece.

—

Revenant Lui Kang: I can never kill Raiden, but I make him live his life in misery.

You: He is finished with your whines, champion.

Revenant Lui Kang: And soon, I'll be finished with you.

—

Raiden: Where is [she/he]

Revenant Lui Kang: You took away my life, Raiden. Now I took away yours.

Raiden: And I will finish with this life of yours!

—

Child: Not. Another. Step.

Raiden: You dare cross me?

Child: You killed them, father. You are not deserving of the name, "Protector."

—

You: Your father's angry at you.

Child: You two have lost yourself in darkness. I trust you mi longer.

You: You forget: I'm not as merciful as him.

—

Cassie: so, you're dad's a god? Must be nice.

You: 'Til he becomes a dark God. Then it kinda sucks.

Cassie: Eh, my dad sees you as a daughter anyways. That's a plus.

—

Raiden: I never could have imagined it end this way.

Child: Father, you misunderstand!

Raiden: You helped a Reventant. You betray your realm!

Noob Saibot / Bi Han (seperate)

Noob: I am not your father.

Child: You may be dead, but you are still my father!

Noob: Bi Han is dead. You are just another orphan.

—

Child: Saibot is not as fun to play with. He's just a shadow.

Noob: I cannot always be with you, child.

Child: Then why did you ever hsve me?

—

Kuai Liang: My [niece/nephew]. You have my mother's eyes.

Child: I am not your niece. I was born to Noob, not Bi Han.

Kuai Liang: He is my brother and life, and in death.

—

You: You left me to raise a child on my lonesome.

Noob: I did what I must to protect [her/him].

You: You'd protect [child] better dead then alive.

—

Hanzo: It was a mistake. I was blinded by my rage.

Child: I actually came to thank you. I want to learn what you did.

Hanzo: How I killed your father? It went something like this...

—

Bi Han: I love you.

You: You have yet to prove it. Spend time with [child] if so.

Bi Han: That will have to wait until later, unless you can bring me home yourself.

—

Frost: I thought your dad said women weren't allowed to be heirs.

Child: No, no. He said bitches aren't allowed to be heirs.

Frost: Your family blood are all assholes.

—

Kuai Liang: I told you, we cannot waste anymore time.

You: If I can beat you, then I can take down my father!

Kuai Liang: Yes, but you can never bring him back.

—

Kuai Liang: So you finally settled down.

Bi Han: Correct, brother.

Kuai Liang: Let us see how prepared you are to raise a child, then.

—

Bi Han: Our daughter does not enjoy watching us fight.

You: You seem to forget; You are the leader, but I am the First Lady.

Bi Han: ...She will have the might of her mother.

Scorpion

Child: I understand. I will never mean enough to you.

Scorpion: I love you the same as my son. Never doubt that.

Child: Then why do you care for them more than me?

—

Quan Chi: It would be a shame for it to happen again, yes?

Scorpion: [Child] and Y/N are under my permanently protection.

Quan Chi: Protection... only worked so much, didn't it?

—

Raiden: You look just like your father.

Son: I am more hellbent than him.

Raiden: Then you can never be saved.

—

You: Who will it be, your dead family or your new one?

Scorpion: My dear wife, I am sorry. But I cannot let go.

You: I see. Then I suppose you won't be needing us anymore.

—

Johnny: I saw this chick on my way here. Literally, smokin' hot.

Scorpion: *angrly grips chain* It was you who harassed my daughter?

Johnny: *clicks tongue* Yup. Not good on my part.

—

Child: I wish I could've killed Hemuri and my brother myself.

Scorpion: He is no brother of yours any longer!

Child: Good. Then if I could kill him, it would be far less meaningless.

—

Scorpion: You took my child away!

You: Why would you care! We're meaningless compared to your dead family!

Scorpion: Bring [him/her] back!

—

Quan Chi: I thought I killed you a long time ago.

Child: That was my brother. I had come to avenge my father's clan.

Quan Chi: Then suffer the same fate.

—

Kuai Liang: Scorpion found love once more.

You: *smiles* He did. Although, he cannot look past what you had done.

Kaui Liang: That was neither I or my brother. Send the message.

Reptile/Syzoth

Cassie: So, what's your favorite bug to eat?

Child: Ew, bugs are my father's thing. I prefer the flesh of chickens.

Cassie: Huh. Gotta say, not what I expected.

—

Erron Black: *Whistles* Ain't you one fine specimen.

Daughter: Half Saurian, half [human/edenian/whatever]. *wink*

Erron Black: That so? Wanna come "put venom in my veins" girlie?

—

Takeda: I think I've seen this somewhere.

Child: Avatar? I get that a lot.

Takeda: Maybe... or furry conventions.

— (Enter Alice Cooper)

Johnny: I wanna kiss you but your lips are-

You: -venomous poisonnnn.

Johnny: Yeah, how do you kiss that guy anyways and not melt?

—(Exit)

Syzoth: *"My child" in Saurian*

Child: *"Father" in Saurian*

Syzoth: *:)*

—

Shang Tsung: I thought Reptile to be the last of his species.

Child: That was before he had me to a [human/edenian/whatever].

Shang Tsung: I must expirement with such a cross breed.

—

Jaque: I know Tiana had to kiss the frog to turn him human, but to have a child with the frog?

You: There's more than meets the eye, my dearest.

Jaque: Don't talk that close to me. Don't know where that mouth has been.

—

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Five

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way? 

Authors Note: IT'S FINALLY HERE. THEY MEET. AH IDK WHAT ELSE TO SAY. But I have just finished writing part 6! So I figured why not post 5? SO here it is, hope you enjoy? X

>Just a note! So there's no confusion, this first section of 5 coincides at the same time as the last part of 4, as in where heading into the studio it was seen from Matty's POV, this starts with Mouse's and then goes onto them actually meeting one another! Okay? ta:)

Warnings: um, moody matty, lil bit of self-consciousness, mentions of scarring

Masterlist

I was running a bit behind schedule. Which wasn't too unusual for me, what with being the single parent to a rambunctious four year old, but this time around I’d somehow managed to allow myself to be waylaid by Adi's antics.

Apparently upon entering the studio this morning, everything had just felt a little 'off'.

And after having announced that, I’d had to sit back and watch on whilst Adi had trudged out of the room in her heavy black boots, only to come back a few moments later with a stub of sage in one hand and a lighter in the other.

Honestly, I was pretty sure that I could still taste the thick plume of smoke that I’d been forced to inhale each time I breathed in, even after having quickly made my escape. But yet it clung to the back of my throat uncomfortably and I couldn't avoid the grimace that wrinkled my face as I tried to rid myself of the sooty tang which coated my tongue.

But that was just Adi, I supposed. And it was one of the many things I loved most about her, how she was so unapologetically herself- even if it meant that I was forced to cough up a lung-full of herbs every once in a while.

See, it was actually Adi’s grandmother that had gotten her into performing all of the rites and cleanses she did so often. The woman was a real spiritualist and had taken Ads in at a very young age, so Adi had practically grown up around it all. She often spoke about how her grandmother had wanted her to follow down the same path and show a deeper interest, but Adi had always been much more fascinated by music, fashion and all things that revolved around tech. 

She was a proper whiz with a computer, but that didn't mean she didn't have an appreciation for her grandmother’s beliefs, nor a knack.

"Are you still coughing up a storm, you drama queen?"

Speak of the devil, and he doth appear, I thought dryly, as Adi reemerged from out of the hazy recording booth. The sage now nowhere to be seen.

I rolled my eyes at her and continued to fiddle with the wires I had wound in my hand.

"I can't fucking stand the stuff, Ads."

Adi merely smirked at me as she bypassed, practically skipping.

"I know, but it's always good to be prepared! Who knows what we'll have to deal with when the infamous diva finally arrives!"

I snorted at Adi's mocking tone and couldn't quite hide the quirk of my lip.

"Fair enough. Just leave that door wide open, will you? And grab the fan while you're at it, as well. Don't need him, and whoever's tagging along, catching on."

I watched Adi laugh in amusement as she wandered over towards the sofa, the sweet sound echoing around the open space.

"On it, Captain!"

The two of us worked quickly after that, whirling around the loft, and one another, in an attempt to get things sorted before our guest's imminent arrival.

It wasn't long before we both recognised the telltale sign of a car pulling up outside though, and upon hearing the engines rumble die out I immediately caught Adi's eye from across the room.

It was a silent challenge and with it there was a frenzied rush to see who could get to the nearest window first. Adi had promptly tossed her notes towards my desk and taken to skidding across the hardwood floors, whilst I had all but thrown myself over the back of the settee.

Adi made it there first, even in her heavy docs, and claimed the windowsill with an unnecessary amount of arrogance. She grinned primly at me as I reluctantly slowed my approach, leaving me to lean in close so that we could both try and get a good look in. 

But from this angle, there was practically no use. I craned my neck as far as my torso would willingly allow me and could only just make out the tail-end of a sleek car parked up on the curb. I assumed that meant Healy had arrived. 

"Can you see anything?" Came Adi's impatient voice, a hushed whisper even though we were three flights up.

"No." I grunted back, "Your fat head's in the way."

Ads scoffed at me and I didn't have to look at her to know that she was now glaring up at me. I grinned.

"My head is perfectly sized, thank you! But seeing as we’re on the topic of abnormalities, you're practically half giraf-”

Adi immediately cut her snide comment short when a loud voice suddenly trumped the usual roaring noise that went hand in hand with the large city that was London.

"Right my!" We heard.

The voice was sharp and irritated, fuelled by an obvious anger, and soon trailed off into a muffled grit. 

Adi's head snapped back to the window at the very sound of it, whilst I couldn't help but question just how exactly she’d managed to contort her body in the way she had, long legs tucked up beside her as she pressed her torso against the glass to listen closer.

The voice rang out again, sharper this time, and my eyes shot down to meet Adi’s own. 

In return, she gifted me a catty side eye- obviously enraptured by the sudden drama that had seemingly been handed to us- and I could do nothing but shrug at her in response, somewhat baffled.

I pulled away slowly when the voices didn't seem ready to rise again, and silently wished that I could've been a fly on the wall during a conversation like that.

Clasping Adi's wrist, I gently tugged her away. "Come on, you best get down there before things go sideways and we end up on the backend of it all."

"Me?!" Adi crowed back, her eyes wide in alarm as she let me drag her back from the windowsill. "Why not you?"

My face scrunched up at the very thought. 

"Ah go on, Ads. Please! You're so good with shit like this, can charm your way out of practically anything."

She narrowed her eyes in response. "I know what you're doing."

I pursed my lips together in an attempt to keep up the innocent act, already feeling a grin cropping up. “Is it working? ‘Cause we both know you’re the sweetest talker around, Wells. Could talk your way out of police custody, you like.”

Adi clucked her tongue but moved to cross the loft. “Yeah, yeah. But we both know you’re just being a coward! What, you really aren't ready to face him yet?”

I was swift to spin around on my heel to hide the truth my expression conveyed, and ignored the question altogether as I headed back towards the booth. I also pretended not to hear the cow’s delighted cackles as she began to descend the staircase.

"Just make sure the camera's are rolling before I get back! And wish me luck!"

"Luck!" I called out loudly over my shoulder before unplugging the fan and then storing it away. She was definitely going to need it. 

I busied myself with the last of my tasks afterwards, an odd feeling of anxiety welling in my chest as I went through the usual motions.

It was strange for me to linger too long on thoughts of nervousness, because I usually had too much going on in other aspects of my life. Making things a little too difficult to concentrate on the many things that could possibly go wrong.

This time around though, we weren’t dealing with the usual up and coming artist, new to the industry and overwhelmingly pleased to be invited on. No, this time we’d practically been fed to the sharks.

Because, of all the possible people, we’d just had to have landed Matty Healy.

I started to question it all again. How exactly I'd gotten myself wrapped up in a mess this big in the first place and only hoped that Adi fared alright with dealing with Healy on her own for a while.

Maybe it had been cowardly of me to send her in first but I really didn’t think I could face him just yet, seeing as it had been me that had set off the pyramid of fireworks that had seemingly burned a hole in his life.

A dull vibration pulsed in my back pocket, breaking me from my train of thought, and I found that I was very much thankful for the sudden distraction it offered.

Messages now Finnleyyy Just got back to the gallery, Teds was fine when I dropped him off! If the show goes on any later feel free to message me and I'll pick him up x

I smiled down at the message. 

At least that was one less thing I had to worry about, Teddy was safe and well, already settled in at the local nursery and in all honesty, I truly didn't know where I'd be without Finn, especially on days like these. 

I was quick to fire back a text full of appreciation before I slipped the phone back into my pocket.

It was just as I had finished clearing up the rest of the studio that I heard a sudden rush of voices trail up the stairwell, and stilled at the very sound.

It was Adi’s voice which carried the furthest and so I ran my teeth along my bottom lip before ultimately deciding that running and hiding was my best bet. So I shot across the loft floor and into the recording booth to stow myself away.

Adi didn’t give me the chance to worry excessively over every little detail that could go wrong as the group of visitors grew marginally closer. So to keep myself busy for a minute or two, or to rather calm my erratic heart, I chose to fiddle with the last of the cameras that had been set up.

I felt, more than heard, the moment they passed the top of the stairwell as the wooden floorboards of the studio tended to creak beneath added weight.

It was pretty much impossible to hear what was being said on the other side of the recording booth though, due to its soundproof walls, but that tiny fact didn’t stop me from practically sealing myself against the door in an attempt to decipher the perfect moment for me to intervene on the situation outside.

For days I’d been practically driving myself stir crazy over all of this, I knew that I just needed to get it over and done with, save myself the stress before I brought another headache on. Because I could do this, he was just some guy. Famous or not.

So with a final albeit shaky breath, I braced myself and opened up the door.

Thankfully, I was almost instantly met by the comforting sound of Adi's voice.

“Ah, there she is! Was wondering when you’d show your mug. Fancy a cuppa, babe? Fixing up a few.”

“Please.” I breathed out a sigh and dragged a hand through my hair as I wandered towards the kitchenette, catching sight of the two bodies currently commandeering our tiny seating area. 

I focused on the man sitting closest and the first thing I noticed about him was the sleek haircut he’d styled, it was clipped closely at the sides but left long on top to keep the thinning hairs going in one direction. He was different from what I’d expected, but not just because he was older, he also wore this brilliant smile when he moved to peer up at me, sincere enough that I felt my doubts ebb as I smiled back, taking in the rest of him and his fine fitting clothes which seemed to suit him well.

I dipped my head in a silent hello before my gaze flickered over towards our remaining guest.

It shouldn’t have felt as shocking as it did to finally set eyes on Matty Healy in person, not after all of the thorough planning I’d put into his very visit. But it was strangely surprising to bare witness to the way his lithe body was currently perched on the edge of our shabby armchair, the very same Adi, Finn and I had dragged back from the secondhand shop further up the main road. It felt wrong almost, having someone so obviously used to a certain luxury sat in the tatty thing.

I pulled my mind away from that last thought and focused on how I couldn't quite seem to tear my eyes away from the way Healy’s frame folded in on itself slightly, legs jutted out wide, elbows pressed against knees, and his chin cocked high. The guy’s overall stance was oddly domineering for someone so wraithlike, with hollowed cheeks and an aristocratic smile. It made him that much harder to read.

Healy’s own eyes were also hidden, so I couldn't make out the line of his gaze. Disguised behind a dark pair of glasses that I could only supposed cost more than what I’d make in two, maybe three months.

The question of what Healy might've first thought upon seeing me and the way I’d drowned myself in the oversized band tee I’d chosen that morning crossed my mind. But I was simply just thankful for the fact that I’d forgotten my knitted cardi somewhere behind me in the recording booth. Silently wishing that I had the balls, as well as the body, to pull off the outfits Adi liked to wear.

"Hiya." I finally greeted them, forcing myself to smile as I extended a polite hand outwards. "It's great to meet you both."

Even with the dark shades on, I easily spotted the way Healy's brows lifted in reply before he- rather reluctantly- clasped his own hand in mine.

I swallowed back the strained smile I wanted to give him in return and focused instead on the shake. Healy’s hands were apt, fingers long and slender, skin much softer than it should’ve been for any musician, and his knuckles prominent but wrist almost dainty. He was a juxtaposition if I’d ever seen one.

He was the first to pull away.

“Likewise.”

My jaw ticked at Healy’s sarky tone but I didn’t let it deter me. Staying professional, I turned to offer the same sentiment to his accomplice. 

“I’m Mouse, by the way. It’s lovely to have you both. Hope you got here okay.”

The other man was much merrier than Healy, practically a total contrast actually, and he showed it in the joyful way he shook my hand, still smiling away.

“You know London traffic.” He replied around a low chuckle and let our hands fall, “Lovely to be here though. I’m Matty’s manager, Jamie.”

I smiled as I nodded in remembrance.

“Got to say, I really love what you two have done with this place. Skylight’s incredible.” Jamie added and I grinned before settling into the adjacent sofa, leaving plenty of space for Adi to take.

“You saw that? But yeah, I honestly think it’s the only reason we were so sold on this particular building- ‘cause the stairs are killer.”

“I can see why! I’m dying to have something like that back at mine, but the conservatory will have to do for now.” Jamie enthused and stood up when Adi strode on over.

Skillfully, the man helped guide the wooden tray Ads had been carrying towards the coffee table and smiled when she thanked him for his efforts, the image of a perfect gentleman.

“Thanks, Ads.” I breathed out in appreciation when the girl handed me my usual milky brew, then took a quick sip.

Someone snorted as I did and my eyes instantly flew over to discover that the sound had been made by Healy, because of course.

He seemed all too amused by something and, from the way his body was still angled towards me, I could only assume that it was down to something I'd done.

I blinked in confusion before I moved to raise my mug high above my head, reading the large, industrialised font that covered the bottom of the cup. Cunt.

The studio was probably the furthest thing from a professional setting, we’d always wanted the entire space to feel comfortable, safe even. But this was supposed to be our big break and so we had been trying to convey it as though it was. But here Adi was dishing out the gag gifts Finn had bestowed upon the loft last Christmas like it was a regular Tuesday.

Still, with a shake of my head, I couldn’t quite bring myself to dim my grudging grin as I shot a narrow eyed glare Adi’s way.

"Ta for that." I voiced with a light chortle and tipped the mug at her in false cheers, before my eyes then flittered over towards Jamie, who had since stifled his own amusement in favour of taking a slow sip of his own brew. And ah, yeah, there was the matching mug.

Healy laughed to himself in the little corner he’d created and I caught the way he subtly surveyed his own cup, out of the corner of my eye, just in case Adi had got him too.

Somehow he’d managed to avoid that particular jest and I knew that the only thing Healy really had to worry about now was if there was a secret dirty message waiting for him once he’d finally polished off his drink.

"What can I say? The mugs, they do not lie." Adi jeered, a mischievous glint in her eye before she turned her head back towards the two visitors. "See you've met our wonderful Mouse then! Ain't she a looker?"

I grimaced away from the hand that reached out to grab at my chin and silently questioned what I'd done to suddenly be on the deserving end of all her taunts.

Jamie laughed at the pair of us, but even with it, I didn't miss Healy's quiet hum or the way he was now seemingly more interested in the contents of his cup than the current conversation.

"Quite. We were actually just talking about you on the way up here, mate." Jamie divulged and I dragged my attention back towards the man, eyebrows lifting.

"Only good things, I hope." I replied, somewhat uncomfortably, but smiling lightly at Jamie before I managed to catch Adi's eye.

Ads simply waved me off. "Of course! They were interested in the show- how it started and what not." She told me and I nodded, mostly to myself as I relaxed further into the settee.

"Oh, well yeah, we've been around a while now."

"Adi mentioned that you were just a kid when you started out, sounds mad putting it like that." Jamie pondered, appearing quite intrigued by the topic. "How did this all come about then?"

Usually, I liked to skirt around this particular subject, wanting to dive straight into the work and forgo most of the small talk, but I caught the way Jamie’s eyes darted around our quaint little studio. He wasn’t just asking for the sake of it.

"If I'm being truly honest, a lot of stuff happened all at once." I revealed with a soft chuckle, but it lacked any of the mirth I was aiming for as I thought back to my second year of university, the year everything had quite literally turned on its head.

"I was in between jobs and my best mate suggested that I take the Twitter account I already had and turn it into something with a bigger presence. At the time, I had nothing left to lose so I just went for it."

At least, that was the shortened version of it. I’d skipped the mental breakdown, the almost losing my flat, and the birth of my child for the sake of not looking like a total psycho.

Jamie looked impressed or, at the very least, understanding as he nodded along to my words.

"Can't say I regret it now though." I had to tack on and smiled before attempting to trail my way onto a more formal topic. "I got your list by the way- what not to ask and all that. Think one of your lot emailed it to me earlier in the week. But I just wanted to let you both know-”

I let my eyes flit over towards Healy for a brief moment before they settled back on Jamie. 

"That you don't have to worry about any of that whilst you're here. We want things to be relaxed, comfortable. I know your team was adamant on everything being a bit more structured, following the lines of an actual interview, but we don't do much of that around here. So I hope you're happy with just having a simple sit down."

"Like this?" Came a reply and I had to pause for a second before realising where the question had come from. Or who, rather.

I settled my mug down on my thigh, loosely supporting it with my hand, and looked over in the direction of Healy.

"A bit, yeah." I confirmed with an incline of my head, "That alright with you?"

The singer was silent for a long second and I couldn't help but take the opportune moment he gave to simply admire the way his fingers had wrapped themselves around his mug, mindlessly tapping away to a hollow tune.

Just when it appeared as though the silence had stretched on a beat too long, and Jamie had begun to shuffle forward ever so slightly in his seat, did Healy finally reply.

"If it's just you, then yes."

I tried not to let the reaction of how I really felt flash across my face then as I stared back at the man opposite. 

From the corner of my eye, I could see the way Adi's lips had pursed unhappily in retort and how Jamie’s expression had hardened into a somewhat steely glare, desperate for Matty to spare a glance his way. Probably to scold him for being so painfully rude. But Healy, to my utter disbelief, kept his head firmly fixed towards me, even as he pushed the dark sunglasses he wore up into his curly hair. 

It almost felt like we were in a stare off with the way I watched him for any tell that would surely give him away, slowly considering the proposition and not caring to cover up the way I could now stare into the other man’s dark brown eyes unabashedly.

From where I was sat, I could only just make out the darkened circles that rested beneath Healy’s pupils, as well as the red line that rimmed them. Their colour was far from unusual, brown, but his were not something you saw very often, they drew you in, kept you trapped. They harboured a multitude of other colours that blended ruthlessly into an array of raw umber.

As magnetising as they may have felt though, I found that I was mostly grateful to see that Healy’s pupils were of a normal size. The only thing I wanted to question were the walls that were so obviously barricaded behind them, giving me absolutely nothing in return.

"Just me?"

Healy simply stared back. 

I couldn’t look Adi’s way when I finally answered the request, simply hoping that she would somehow understand. This felt too much like a test to say anything other than, “Alright. If that’s what you’d prefer.”

I moved to push my mug onto the corner of the coffee table, allowing myself a seconds release from his stare.

“But Adi often controls what goes on behind the scenes when we record, so it’ll be harder without her there, especially with all the cameras.” I explained carefully.

"Look, just hang on a second-" Jamie tried, obviously wanting to defuse the situation, but was ultimately cut off by Healy. It honestly felt as though the man believed neither Jamie nor Adi were a part of the conversation any longer.

"Can you do it?"

His tone was almost challenging, the four words fell from his wicked tongue like a dare.

"Not the type to back down." Was all I could think to retort, my hardened gaze once again zeroed in on Healy's own.

***

The recording booth was smaller than he’d expected. A table sat in the very centre, surrounded by a swarm of cameras and microphones, all of which seemed to be connected to a variety of wires Matty could hardly even bring himself to be cautious of as he stepped past.

The table hosted an array of tech though, from computers and mixing boards to monitors and speakers. None of which Matty was the least bit interested in either.

Three of the four walls were lined with acoustic foam panels, one’s you’d typically find in booths, while the last had been turned into a mural of sorts. 

The mural was dark and edgy, a string of trees sprouted up from the ground and swept across the expanse of it, its branches winding upwards only to entangle in one another. A common field mouse sat crouched in between the trunks of the trees, its big eyes shining as it met Matty’s stare head-on. The walls centre held the name of the radio show and at first glance it looked as though it had been printed on one of those acrylic neon signs, but it was actually just extremely detailed.

Matty had to blink once or twice before he was finally able to look away.

"Who's work?" He found himself asking, filling the silence that had settled upon the closing of the booth's door. He jutted his chin out towards the far wall, sparing the art one last glance before he gave the girl his full focus.

Her eyes flitted up to meet his own before they sailed across to the mural.

"A friend." Was all she replied, but her voice had softened a touch now that it was just the two of them, Matty noted.

She offered nothing more than that and so Matty took it for what it was, nodding his quiet assent.

"Do you have anything in particular you'd like to talk about whilst you're here?" Mouse asked him as she clicked away at the computer, he felt strange using the name, even if it was just in his own head. "We've got a good hour or so before Adi comes snooping."

"I've got a million things I'd like to say," Matty let slip as he trailed on closer to the table, then forced a sardonic smile. "But I'm not particularly in the mood for a good tongue lashing today."

She looked slightly startled by his dry joke and Matty found himself having to hold back a smirk as he rounded the desk, fingertips gliding across the table's smooth surface.

"What about you, then?" He posed, not wanting to stunt their talk just as it had begun. Somewhat intrigued now. "Got anything you'd like to get off your chest for millions of people to hear?"

It was sarky, but when was he not? Though if he was being honest, Matty just found that he wanted to hear the girl talk, because for some reason he enjoyed listening to her. Her gentle accent had obviously been weakened during the time she'd spent in London but Matty enjoyed its easy lilt. It was almost soothing. He wondered where she was from, but didn't ask.

Mouse snorted, shaking her head. "Wouldn't quite say millions, a couple thousand at best."

Matty felt his eyebrows raise as he spared another glance over at her, thinking back to those eyes that had held his so solemnly. "What, even with me here?"

He was teasing, but her eyes widened briefly as though she feared she had offended him, but as mentioned, it was only a brief flicker before a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

"Well, I guess we'll just have to wait and see how loyal your fans truly are, Healy."

"Guess so." Matty mocked.

***

The show had gotten off to a rocky start. I had been all too aware of the surrounding cameras and the way the menacing rockstar, sat centimetres away from me, liked to keep his stare fixed firmly on me at all times, following my each and every movement.

I couldn't quite help the way I shifted uncomfortably every time I looked up and caught Healy's eye either, or the way I’d chosen to angle my face away from the cameras to avoid looking directly into any lenses.

I was dead crap when it came down to things like this. It all became too much, the pressure to entertain, to pretend that I was fine, that I was comfortable in my own skin, to chat away like there weren't already a thousand eyes studying my every flaw.

Look, give me a microphone and any sodding topic that either pissed me off or positively enthralled me and I'd be happy to rant the ears off of any nutter willing to listen. But in scenarios such as these, I always felt slightly on edge. Teetering on the verge of falling right on over it.

‘Cause I knew what people saw when they looked at me. I was all too familiar with the pitying glance I often got spared, as well as the grimaces people couldn’t seem to hide when they walked by. 

I’d had to deal with it for years. Ever since I was a kid.

And upon hearing that, anyone would probably figure that I might’ve gotten used to all the gawking by now, especially with a toddler constantly keeping me on my toes. But ultimately my son’s presence often appeared to exaggerate the mixed reactions I received.

In truth, I’d never really been given the time to come to terms with the scars that marred my body, my face. The white lines that spoiled the features underneath.

So claiming it to be a rocky start, would only put a dent about the size of a pea into the way I was currently feeling! 

Healy was rather unhelpful too, just as I’d predicted. He seemed to almost get off on watching me writhe under his leer and his answers to the questions or topics brought up were half-hearted at best.

Really, I was beginning to doubt the way in which I’d figured this entire mess would end.

It was only supposed to be a quick and easy chat, the two of us sat there gossiping like old mates, proving to the rest of the world that there really was no animosity or underlying conspiracies to this whole setup. When in actuality, that really wasn't the case.

Time and time again I found myself questioning why exactly Healy had even bothered to come, why he had even agreed to the whole ordeal in the first place. Especially when he was so apathetic with his replies.

"So," I trailed off, somewhat desperate to save what was left of the segment- for my sake at the very least. I didn't even want to think of what sort of issues this would cause for the show. "Music! I mean, from an outsider's point of view, we never really got the whole backstory on how you and the rest of the band really met. I mean, you’ve said you started it in secondary school, but you yourself were kind of pushed into the limelight at a really young age, so how did you and the guys connect?”

Healy tensed at that particular question, his shoulders forming a more rigid line as his gaze flickered away from me for only the briefest of seconds before it returned, but it was enough to alert me to the fact that I was treading into murky waters. I tried to backtrack.

"But in all honesty, what I really want to know about are all the sordid details, life after all that crap, the answers to the things people never think to ask. Like, I've seen pictures of your clearly extensive guitar collection all over your Instagram feed, you must have a favourite!"

Matty's lips curled into something which almost resembled a smile then and it honest to God threw me through a loop. A metaphorical loop, of course, I wasn't quite sure if we could fit any sort of loop-like shape into a space this small.

But I was letting myself get sidetracked and couldn't help but question whether that was the sort of thing Healy typically thrived off of. He’d smiled, and nothing wicked or sarky had tinged it, it’d been a genuine smile. And I had to blink just to make sure my eyes hadn't been playing tricks on me as Healy edged forward in his seat, a coy grin now dancing at the corners of his muted pink lips.

"A favourite? Now that's the question to ask! Honestly? It'll have to be the '63 Jazzmaster I've got. It’s wicked, used by the Ramones on their debut album and then by David Byrne on early Syre demos. So it’s seen quite a bit."

After that, I just sat there. Stunned as Healy continued to rant about this poxy guitar he was so obviously smitten with and couldn't help but be utterly captivated by each and every word that slipped from his mouth.

Apparently all I had ever needed to get past the games and ginormous walls Healy had defensively built around himself was to simply be myself. Ask the questions that maybe only I wanted to know the answers to. 

See, I wasn't the biggest people person but I figured myself to be somewhat of a skilful conversationalist. What with my past, I’d kind of had to force myself to be. But I was glad to have finally been given an in with Healy, no matter how small. It helped the interview pass by a lot easier. 

Although the new spirit Healy adopted after that only seemed to last until nearing the very end of the show. 

In truth, I had all but forgotten about the cameras and microphones set up, the fact that people were still listening in, were watching us converse, whilst I simply lost myself in listening to Healy prattle away. Positively enraptured by the way the musician's mind worked as he explained the complexity of a certain riff he adored, or the time he'd pretended to get off in Madison Square Garden- much to the dismay of his PR Team.

"They went absolutely mental when I first proposed it. I'm telling you! Yapping about time and effort, and it being too much for the younger viewers, then the plans that would have to be put into place- all that merry shite. And I’d just been sitting there in these, these skimpy leather trousers, quietly debating over when, or if I'd ever, get the feeling back in my legs. And don't even get me started on my knob. I mean, it must've shrivelled up and die- hang on, I can say knob, right? On air?"

Looking at him in that moment, forgetting everything I already knew, it was like I was seeing this whole other person. Someone who wasn't so confrontational, so quick to defend, or easy to recoil. 

It was clear, to me at least, that Healy wasn't the image the media painted of him, he was simply human. A troubled man who truly loved music, in every sort of variety, and wanted to vocalise and share that love with everyone else. He was eccentric for sure, but sincere.

I could see that, even if it only felt like I'd only been given the tiniest bit of insight into the person Healy so obviously tried to keep concealed.

It wasn't long later when I startled somewhat upon seeing the flashing red light of one of our cameras go off to my left and immediately, I jolted upright in my seat.

"God- crap!" I blurted out stupidly as I grabbed at the headset that had threatened to fall off my head in my sudden haste. "Hold on. Sorry, got really sidetracked there- one of the camera's is telling me it's on its last legs, so we'd best start wrapping this up."

Healy deflated ever so visibly, shrinking back in his seat as he huffed a soundless chuckle.

"Can't seem to stop me once I get going." Healy widened his eyes to emphasise his point and I observed how he had hastily retreated back into himself to haul his guard up again.

I was quick to shake my head. "No, truthfully I can't remember the last time I just got to sit here and listen. It was nice not having to do all the work for once."

Matty licked at his top lip upon hearing that and rewarded me with another mirthful smirk. I realised I'd properly put my foot in it there, stressing over why I’d even worded it like that. 

Whilst he chuckled to himself at the picture I must’ve made, I decided my best bet was to hurry on and end the show, reciting what needed to be said before I finally signed off, clicking a button.

It was just as the 'ON AIR' sign above the door went off that Adi barged straight through the entrance, gracing us with her wonderful presence. Jamie was just behind her, peeking his head around the doorframe.

"Well I think I can say that that went as well as it could’ve!" He announced, coming to a standstill by Matty as he clapped his client heartily on the back. "Well done, Matt. You as well, Mouse."

"Appreciate it." I smiled up at him before tugging off my headphones and pushing away the mic.

With all four of us now crowded into the makeshift room, the booth suddenly felt a lot smaller than it usually did, and so I tried my best to disguise the way my body immediately reacted to the realisation.

"I'm in dire need of a fag though. Will you be alright tidying up in here, Ads?" I announced as I pulled myself up onto my feet, already beginning to shuffle towards the exit. I picked up the cardigan I'd left on the back of one of the chairs as I went, using it as a shield almost. 

"Yeah, of course. Glasses here wanted to discuss one more thing before they made a move anyway."

I shot an arched brow at the man in question but Jamie waved my curiosity off. "Nothing too detailed. Just some forms that need signing."

I didn't much like the part of the arrangement that came after recording, but with an understanding ‘Ah’, I forced myself to ask, "Erm, don't suppose you need me to stick around for any of that do you?"

"Nah," Jamie laughed lightly, "Go on, you're all good."

I smiled, silently praising the stars above as I nodded once and resumed my exit, tugging the cardi on as I hastily made my way over to the fire escape.

Praying that our luck hadn’t run out just yet, I hoped that no one else was up on the roof waiting for me when I pulled my feet up the rickety metal staircase. It was just about the last thing I needed at that moment.

I already had my lighter in hand by the time I'd made it over to our little makeshift patio we’d created, which consisted of a few wooden pallets and a couple of large cushions that overlooked the neighbouring buildings.

It wasn't much, Islington. It was inner London sure, and had its fair few classier joints to show off, but I much preferred what else it had to offer. Like how the hustle and bustle of the city quietened just as you lost yourself down the backroads. And all the parks that had been scattered in and around the main developments and the dozens and dozens of buildings that were constantly cropping up. How there was a pub on almost every street corner and a Sainsbury's never too far away. I even enjoyed the gentle rattle of the overground, it was all too familiar now. Felt more like home than the Isles ever had.

Looking out across the surrounding rooftops, I wondered again just why my mum had yet to leave our tiny town as I lit a cigarette and lifted the filter to my lips.

The first chance my father ever got he’d gone running for the hills and then me, myself, had upped and left the confines of our small cottage as soon as the offer had presented itself.

It wasn't that the harbour town I'd grown up in had nothing to offer. It had a sense of community, a beautiful shoreline (even in the colder months), and of course, the local rugby team.

But speaking in a manner of careers, well, unless you were breaking out on your own and had the cash to open up a shop on the high-street, then you were probably destined to either work in the local greengrocers, serve behind the village bar, or get a shift down by the docks.

You were lucky if you had a bit more meat on your bones though, because then you also had the added opportunity of getting an offer to start laying bricks for one of the few building companies. Most of which were family based.

We had the main school too which housed both primary and secondary  kids, and the local college was available if you wanted to further your education. But the closest University campus was a good hundred miles away. 

I had applied, but only to lessen the guilt I'd felt towards my mother when I'd started looking for courses available in just about any place apart from home whilst filling out uni apps.

I could still recall the day I’d finally told her I'd be leaving for London. Felt like a lifetime ago now really.

I'd definitely have to call her up again soon, to make sure that she was doing okay, even if it meant that I'd be forced to listen to her rattle on about coming home for Christmas. Again.

I sighed contently to myself and it was just as I flicked away a stump of ash that I heard someone approach.

[missamyrisa2]

Story Archive: Megan's New Student

I found something very interesting~! This is an RP I did a long time ago, which I've converted into a tease story by removing the other person's reactions. This was me playing my character Megan, the aloof inventor with a penchant for running sensory overload experiments on cuties, as she leads a class at the local university. I felt like this was too good to only have ever existed as a closed door conversation. I remember doing this session in particular was one of the reasons why I started writing teases and fiction over always being tied up in private sessions ~<3

You feel the weight of eyes on your body, and catch an amused analytic gaze from me. Suppressing a grin, I take a seat next to you and begin speaking as though the conversation had already started when I first spotted you. "Are you usually nervous when you are starting your first day in a new environment? Your body language suggests you are highly bashful. And that is both cute and perfect for the machinations of which I'm currently authoring."

"Oh yes, you are particularly bashful. I haven't even started working on you yet and you're already so red and adorable." I clap my hands together and grin widely at you, pausing for a moment to observe you quiver in your seat. "But, I'm so sorry. I've gotten ahead of myself. The dean has tapped me to help get undergrads such as yourself acclimated to the school. My name is Megan. I'm currently working towards my masters." I put my hand out to shake yours, and then add as I look into your eyes- "...and I'm going to tickle you. "

I give you a wry smile and nod. "Yes I know. That is precisely why I am going to be tickling you. I was given a wide selection of students to choose from. I perceived your ticklishness almost immediately. This, coupled with the bashfulness I've just observed clinched you as a primary candidate for this experiment. Our studies of the subject are somewhat limited, but my thesis involves a bevy of exploratory wings, such as the effects of ticklishness on cute boys in campus settings. Oh, but I'm getting ahead of myself once more. I apologize. We will commence immediately." I grin and pull back my hand.

My hand then slips down and you hear a mechanical beeping as I touch one of the petals on my flower-shaped belt buckle, which glows faintly purple. An instant later, you see a copy of my hand, with perfect matching purple fingernails, slide out from within my black duster sweater. The hand is attached to a long white tendril, and its fingers are wiggling slowly in your direction. As it floats toward you, several more hands with wiggling fingers appear from within my sweater.

"Why, thank you. Your compliment is most appreciated. Especially considering how much this is going to tickle. Now, try to relax.." I can't help but giggle as the hands spring to work as you try to curl up, with one landing on your side to gently begin grasping at your tender spot with a long set of nails. Another hand tries to wiggle the fingers under your arm. The last of the first wave of hands teases you by drawing a fingernail along your ear, affectionately reminding you of your predicament. I grin delightfully at you, watching as my machine goes to work. "...of course, that's merely a joke of the scientific community. You're likely to laugh and squirm and blush in the most adorable of manners as I tickle you."

"Oh, removing your footwear saves me the trouble. And it means you are of a high calber submissive personality type. In that case, I'm recommending that the tickling frequency be doubled. Which is funny because I'm the sole executor of this experiment, so...tickle, tickle, tickle!" I smile warmly, directing the hands to skitter their nails over your feet, scribbling in wavy patterns over your soles with purple fingernails. I let you hide your red face for a moment because it amuses me, and point the hands to tickle the back of your neck with loving caresses, and briskly draw two index fingers up and down your sides. While the hands keep busy, I make gestures on my tablet computer, taking and documenting various statistics about your body and reactions. "Hm. There's a high probability that you are simply ticklish in all locales. Your reactions indicate a hot spot in your midsection, which indirectly suggests t-zones above and below the tummy in varying degrees. I'm recommending a full exploration of all ticklish territory."

"Ah, quite the positive reaction. I would surmise tickling excites you, doesn't it? Now, let's see that tummy that you're making such a fuss about." I dial a sequence into the machine and two hands spring forward, snatching you by your wrists and gently lifting you out of the chair. The tickling hands follow, still tracing the curves of your feet and probing your toes with their nails. By this time, our little experiment has caused quite a ruckus in the classroom, and people are now gathered to watch.

"I neglected to mention. You are the demonstration for this class today." I say with a grin, standing and walking towards the center of the room, my mechanical minions carrying you along with me as they continue to tickle your feet and underarms. "So, about that tummy." I wink as a new hand emerges and daintily grasps the end of your shirt...

"Okay class. I'm Megan, and I'm the teaching assistant in this reflexology lab. Today, we're studying ticklishness. Specifically, his ticklishness." I gesture to you, and send the hands in as one lifts your shirt. A hand spiders over your extra tender tummy, its nails trailing all around and grasping at your skin. "As you can see, this subject is highly ticklish. What's more interesting is that he is highly embarrassed by not only the tickling, but your presence as I make him laugh into submission. Today we will push his ticklishness to the maximum threshold as well as his factor of embarrassment, as the two go hand-in-hand in a subject this cute."

"That level of laughter indicates he has much more tickly giggles to give us. And yes, he's quite adorable" I continue, speaking to the class. I then gesture to the hands to have them lift you and place you on a padded exam table. I adjust the spot lighting above to focus on you, and activate cameras that display zoomed in feeds of your feet, tummy, and face.

"Next, we'll introduce raspberries into the experiment environment." I press a different petal on my belt and a new tool emerges: a pair of luscious lips attached to a mechanical tendril. A hand keeps your shirt lifted while the others hold you down. "Also known as zerberts and belly blows, this technique is super effective in administering tickles to a cute tummy such as this." The purple lips press their pillowy surfaces together with a smack and descend towards your exposed midsection.

Some of the students get out their phones and you hear clicking as they take photos and videos of your predicament. "Yes, yes, good note taking class. Now...for the tickles!" The lips descend on your belly, forming a seal and buzzing loudly. "I've coated these lips with a special gloss to make them extra slippery and tickly." The soft lips kiss and buzz all along your tummy, and the purply tongue licks inside of your bellybutton, leaving purple lip prints all over your midsection.

"And now, we'll start the complimentary tickling. Ah, I forgot." I wiggle my fingers at your feet and the hands comply, trailing over your instep with long raking motions. "I need a volunteer." A buxom young woman with bright blonde hair in a high ponytail immediately steps up. "Do you know what this is?" I pull out a magic wand vibrator. The girl takes it enthusiastically. I wave to your helpless body and the hands lift your shirt completely off. "Let's see how stimulating his buttons affects his ticklishness and embarrassment" I point to your nipples and the girl eagerly turns the magic wand on with a big smile.

"aww!" The girl pinches your cheek lightly and kisses you on the nose as she brings the vibrating wand to your nipple, lightly caressing it in tight circles. "Goochie goooo baby..." She says, holding the tool tightly with two hands as she tickles your buttons.

"Now, we are administering tickles to two highly sensitive places. Given the test results so far, we can conclude these are also erogenous zones for our cute subject. As the tickling continues..." I gesture to the hands and have them grasp your hips, both holding your pants tightly against your body and lightly tickling your hipbones with their thumbs in slow rolling motions. "We should see a *growing* effect in this region" I wave my hand in a circle between your legs.

The class watches intently both at the table and on the monitors, which are showing your tummy being raspberried, your nipple being buzzed, and your hips being tickled.

I smile with satisfaction as a swelling becomes apparent between your legs. "There we go. Our adorable boy toy has become aroused. Now, let's help him along, shall we?" The girl with the magic wand continues to tease your nipple and rapidly flicks the other with her nail.

The lips continue to raspberry your belly, their purple surface brushing your lower abdomen and nibbling your belly. I direct the hands at your feet to drift upwards and begin squeezing your knees lightly. "With a slightly altered tickling routine, we can then introduce something...softer. I'll need another volunteer, someone with very nice lips." I glance around and zero in on a goth girl with crimson full lips. "Perfect. Come here please." I direct her to you. "Have you ever kissed someone who is being tickled? It's quite a challenge, but I can see you are up to it." The girl smirks and nods.

She tosses aside her long shiny black hair steadies your face by holding one jewelry-laden hand to your cheek and brushes her lips against yours. "A tickle makeout is just the thing to take him to the next phase!"

"Oh, this is precisely what I had expected. As you can see from this impressive tent, our subject is now quite aroused. But, this lovely volunteer is also receiving a residual effect, as our actions cause him to vibrate which in turn is transmitted through the kisses she's giving him." I have one of the hands stroke the girl's hair, as she continues to make out with your squirming lips. She moans softly through the kiss, pressing harder and sliding her tongue along yours.

The students are crowded tightly around the table, egging the girl with the vibrator on, who is now testing the wand on your sides as she continues to work your nipples with her fingers. The purple lips drift up to the free nipple and begin kissing, allowing the more bold students to sneak pokes and strokes of your belly.

For the moment, I stand with a hand on my hip, satisfied as I watch your reaction to all the tickling and analyzing you on a deeper level for the next stage of the experiment.

"Why yes, he does sound like a teen girl with those laughs. Let's work with that, shall we?" I direct the machine to lift you from the table and the hands begin to slowly remove your clothing for all to see. As the machine hands tug down your garments, the class can't help but reach up and tease your exposed skin, tickling gently.

You are naked for a moment, on full display before tickly fingers, before one of the hands begins sliding up a pair of purple panties onto your legs. The robo hands work the silky material over your swollen member, taking extra care to position it. As you are brought back to the table, you can see the goth girl is getting a new application of lip coating from another machine of mine.

Barely clothed and laid back down on the exam table, my hands retract for the moment. "There we go" I say with a big smile "isn't he so cute? Okay class, I'm going to let you take this round." The hands of the classroom begin reaching for your body - their hands immediately tickling up your underarms, sides, belly, and thighs, while the goth girl flashes a big grin to you with her newly glowing purple lips as she descends to start the kissing anew.

"Okay class. I believe we have demonstrated how machines and hands can be used to effectively tickle our subject. Additionally, tickling can be supplemented with additional fetishes. Today I've injected kissing and a sprinkle of crossdressing" I press a petal on my flower belt and the machine hands distribute feathers, vibrators, and makeup brushes amongst themselves.

"Lastly, we shall study the fine art of the ticklegasm." I turn towards you and grin, directing the class to step back. Your goth kisser reluctantly breaks contact before reading your nipples with her nails.

"Now, this may tickle a little bit." I raise you by your arms in full view of the class, my robohands wiggling their fingers and waving their tickle tools.

"Aww. Isn't our subject just the cutest? Let's have a big round of applause." I make the robo hands pinch your cheeks and caress your hair as the class applauds and take pictures of your helpless form, suspended in front of them. "I suppose we can give him a little break before the finale..." I muse, thumbing through your vitals and scans on my tablet. "So what shall we supplement his treatment with? Hmm? Some spanking?" I have a hand playfully and lightly tap your behind, then gently pinch it. "Forced feeding?" A hand inexplicably pulls a huge cake from nowhere and the class laughs. "Hmm...he's awfully blushy, isn't he?" I grin wide, and turn to my robotic hands holding makeup brushes.

"Let's doll up our little toy before the big show." I direct the girls over and we crowd around the tablet, picking out various clothing and accessories. After a little deliberation, we approach you and I dial in a new sequence. "...unless you'd rather just get right to the tickles?" I wink, as portals open in the floor bringing in clothing, and my robot hands with makeup brushes wave back and forth in anticipation of either tickling or applying their tools to you.

"You heard him, ladies!" I laugh and press a button to start. "One makeover coming up!"

The robotic hands set you down and start rubbing together in pairs, spreading a sweet smelling perfumed lotion. They approach you with their slippery digits, massaging the lotion onto your skin. They caress your legs, knead your knees, squeeze your sides gently, draw up your arms, and palm over your chest and back.

As the fruity fragrance fills the air and your skin softens, the hands position you to slide a purple sheath dress over your body. The material glides over your skin and settled into place. At the same time, the machine pulls black stockings up your legs, drawing a finger or two over the surface to make you wiggle and writhe compliantly.

As you are lifted and deposited into shiny black wedge shoes, the hands accessorize you by slipping a silver necklace with a heart shaped charm over your neck, snapping matching chunky black bracelets over your wrists, and cinching your waist with a thick black belt.

The class oohs and ahhs at your transformation, taking more snaps with their phones. I grin and gesture to the eager makeup brush hands, who descend quickly...

"Why, look at that ladies!" I giggle as the hands adjust your new clothes and accessories. "He doesn't even need any blush he's so red! Even the lotion tickles him!" I dial in a makeup sequence and the brushes spring to you. "But, it never hurts to put a little on." The hands apply a light layer of foundation to your face, massaging it in gently. Next the blusher brush hands dust your cheeks merrily. Two spinning mascara brushes slowly approach your eyes as the hands hold your face still, the dark liquid spreading over your eyelashes. A light bit of black eyeliner is applied, and the hands wrap up by rolling purple lipstick on your lips.

As you are put on display, the crowd closes in again. They admire and take photos of you. Their hands poke and caress you, sneaking in gentle tickles. One bold girl holds you by the belt and starts tickling your side. Through the crowd, you see your goth admirer puckering her lips, seemingly even more attracted to you.

I grin, as this was all part of my intended experiment. She looks to me, and says "May I?" I nod at her and smile at you.

"This, ladies" I gesture to you "is a lovely test subject". I look at my tablet and purse my lips, looking back at you a few times. "Okay. Now it's the trifecta. Dr. Megan prescribes a heavy makeout session, a nice dose of tickling..." In an instant, the hands snap into action, backing you against the wall with your arms in the air. Two hands with makeup brushes begin dusting your underarms as more hands creep up and down your legs, gently squeezing your knees and skittering their nails over your thighs.

Then the goth girl appears in front of you and drives her lips into yours once more, as she squeezes your sides with her hands, running her thumbs up and down briskly.

Eyeing your vitals between your legs I grin and wave over a curvy girl in an adorable pinafore who has been eager to join the action. "And for the naughty boy, plenty of spanking to follow. This will ensure maximum inspiration of arousal for the ticklegasm experiment."

The hands proceed to deposit you into the waiting lap of the buxom young lady, whose ample curves are accentuated by her dark pinafore dress with buttons over a striped top. She grins and runs her long-nailed hand over your back. Taking advantage of both her larger size and your submissive nature, she easily spins you around for all to see, and invites the girls to take a closer look at your cute new outfit and..."look at this tent! Poor baby, he just can't help himself!" "awwww" the girls echo, their hands reaching out to glide their finger tips all over you.

"are you an excited wiiidle boy?" "tiiiickle tiiiickle!" "such a naughty girly boy"

The woman whose lap you sit upon agrees with the naughty sentiments as I look on and take notes, my mechanical minions floating at the ready. You are flipped onto your back and feel a soft hand slide over your bottom through the dress and panties. With a deafening *smack* her hand comes down onto your soft posterior. She then lovingly gropes your tush, probing for sensitive spots with her nails before repeating the spank.

"This is quite exciting. Our adorable subject is completely submissive to anything we desire. Why, we could draw lewd characters on his face right now with honey and he'd take it! But I like to think I give something back to my subjects. He is quite aroused as you can see. We're going to force him to orgasm shortly, and this spanking will help as it drives his erect penis into the panties, dress, and our lovely volunteer's ample thighs. I'm going to bring tickling back into the mix because 1) he is soooo ticklish! 2) tickling very much tuns him on. While I start the sequence, I'll be taking a poll among you ladies as to whether we should make him orgasm while wearing his cute new outfit or make him naked as the day he was born"

As the girls watch and giggle, you hear my machine beep to life, as two hands close their nails around your sides just as your spanker rears back for another round...

"Do you like being tickled?" I ask, clipboard in hand as I direct the mechanical hands to briskly run their thumbnails up and down your sides alternately. The spanking woman brings her hand down for a playful smack, then gently massages your rear occasionally bringing up her nails to dig them into your sensitized cheeks as my machine merrily tickles you.

The ladies cast their votes on a tally board, and call over my attention while I study your giggles with a big smile. "ah, it looks like you are staying in that cute dress, my tickle doll. The ladies have spoken!"

With a grin, I dial a new sequence into my belt and a new set of mechanical hands appear at the ready. Equipped with magic wand vibrators, feathers, and a large bottle of massage oil, they are specialized in ticklegasms, and begin slowly descending to your helpless form!

With a flip you are brought about to rest on her lap face-up, seeing my mechanical minions descend. Oiling up eagerly between their fingers as the wands buzz around your waist and chest, my machine works quickly to start this process much to the amusement of the girl who holds you supportively. And just as the hands slide under the dress and over the panties to start making you feel good, the feathers start in teasing at your ears and feet and legs with those distracting tickles. Lastly with a little needy squeak, the goth girl reappears, pulls your upper body back and proceeds to make out with you upside down, catching your quivering lips with hers as her fingers skitter and wiggle over your neck. Not to be left out, the spanker girl reaches around to pinch your booty while enjoying how the dress shuffles and dances with all the activity happening below.

And as all of the session's teasing and taunting and tickling overloads you with this grand finale of a climax, I tap a new sequence into my machine so the hands can lift your shuddering form right at the moment of the ticklegasm. All around the class is able to enjoy your clenched toes and quivering legs as you are made to climax in front of them in your teasing little outfit. The feathers follow, tracing your ears and cheeks and toes to make you dance through all your gasping moans.

"Ah, class. It looks like I was too eager today. We have ten minutes remaining. Feel free to run out the clock." I grin as I have the machine toss you onto the exam table, the class eagerly rushing forward especially those who haven't gotten to play yet. I start taking my notes and make sure the camera catches the ending melee as my mechanical hands retract, ready to start a session with the cutie candidate in my next lecture.

[queen-dahlia]

𝐆𝐢𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐯𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧

𝗠𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗥𝗼𝘂𝘁𝗲 𝗥𝗼𝗺𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗰 𝗘𝗽𝗶𝗹𝗼𝗴𝘂𝗲 + 𝗟𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿

🔞🔞🔞

Note: Translation is not 100% accurate. Expect grammatical errors.

// : alternate translation | ⫘⫘ : flashback

It has been a while since I started living in Obsidian, but there is still a lot I don't know about Gilbert.

For example—

Gilbert: "… And then, what did you just say?"

Obsidian nobleman: "I'm... sorry... sir."

Gilbert: "Forget the apology, just say it again… okay?"

(... I didn't know...)

A bullet pierces the wall of the castle.

It passed by a nobleman who had been summoned by Gilbert to make a report,

It was emitted from the pitch-black cane that he usually carried around.

(I knew it wasn't a normal cane because it was strangely heavy, but I didn't realize it was a gun.)

The end of the cane was a cap, and when the cap was removed, the barrel of the gun was revealed.

The handle has been replaced by a trigger, and you can put your finger on it.

Gilbert: "You've got to tell me something soon, I'm not that patient myself."

Obsidian nobleman: "… We have been… illegally exploiting… the collection of… taxes."

Gilbert: "I agree. That's what the report says."

Gilbert: "It looks like you were collecting three times the normal tax and putting a lot of money in your pocket."

Gilbert: "Did you think I couldn't see you just because you're in a rural area? Ahaha, you're so naïve."

Gilbert: "The spies I raised are scattered everywhere. We are constantly doing spot checks."

Gilbert: "You let your guard down, didn't you?"

Obsidian nobleman: "I'm sorry... I'm sorry."

(Obsidian is a land of deceit and corruption... The center seems to be mitigating that, but not the provinces.)

Not all of the vast Obsidian territory is healthy, according to Gilbert,

The further away from the center, the deeper the corruption remains.

(… Gilbert had arranged for weapons to reach all exploited people in anticipation of his death.)

(But now that the Emperor is alive, there is no need for that yet.)

(… This is how Gilbert had to become a "Trampling Beast".)

Gilbert: "That's just it, little rabbit. What's the one thing I hate the most?"

Suddenly, I am asked to speak, and I straighten my back.

Emma: "… Lies."   //   "… A liar."

Gilbert: "Yes, I hate liars. I'll tell you how much I hate it—"

Gilbert changed his bloodlust into a smile, putting strength at his fingertips…

Emma: "Please wait!"

Without hesitation, I grabbed his hand tightly.

Gilbert: "What's wrong?"

Emma: "… The Earl seems to be very sorry for what he did."

Emma: "Isn't it an act of excessive authority to even take a life?"

Gilbert: "You're so naïve. This kind of person who can only think of himself will do the same thing over and over again."

Emma: "Then why not punish him in a way that he won't repeat it?"

Emma: "It's too short-sighted to take life for anything."

Gilbert: "Hmmm...?"

Gilbert's red eye does not smile, and I gasp.

The Emperor has no mercy on me, even though I am his lover.

(I feel like I'm being tested every time.)

Gilbert: "Then will you take responsibility for his rectification?"

Emma: "Rectification…?"

Gilbert: "I'll throw him in jail for a while, and if you reform him during that time, I'll consider letting him live."

Emma: "Please do so!"

(… Maybe he was planning to do this all along.)

Otherwise, he would not have dared to have me, who hates killing people, in his presence.

Lately, Gilbert has been trying to trust me to do things my way.

It may be a convenient interpretation, though,

As a matter of fact, I was glad to see that people were listening to me more than before.

Gilbert: "… I don't like it."

For some reason, however, his neat face is distorted into a grim expression.

Emma: "Gilbert, you suggested..."

Gilbert: "Yes, but I can't believe you would willingly take the opportunity to talk to a man other than me."

Emma: "… I can't talk to anyone when you say that."

Gilbert: "That's a good idea."   //   "That would be nice."

(Not good, not good...)

Emma: "Gilbert, you are different from the rest of them."

Gilbert: "I can say as many words as I want."

(... It's getting troublesome again.)

Gilbert approaches me while ignoring the frightened and trembling nobleman.

He was no longer interested in the Earl, and his target was narrowed down to me.

He lifts his chin and gives me a big smile.

Now that we have been together longer, I know what he wants from me.

(... I don't have a choice. People's lives are at stake.)

I close my eyes in the shame of being in front of others and kiss his cold lips.

Emma: "… I only do this to you, Gilbert."

Gilbert: "Hehe… Well done."

(Ah... the bloodlust has disappeared.)

Gilbert, smiling with satisfaction, kisses me back as well.

He then put his gun away in his cane in front of the nobleman who had been left behind.

Gilbert: "Good for you. She saved your life."

Obsidian nobleman: "… Thank you very much. Thank you."

Gilbert: "Yeah, yeah. Don't ever forget that gratitude, okay? Your life is in the palm of her hand."

(Sometimes… I wonder if Gilbert is threatening me to win over my allies.)

(… You may not like me, but you don't let me be…)

The kind of malice had changed from when I was at Rhodolite, and that was somewhat sad.

Gilbert: "Take him away."

Roderich: "… Yes sir."

Roderich, who had been waiting by the wall, drags the staggering man, gasping for breath, out of the room.

The tension that had dominated the room finally dissipated into a mist.

Emma: "… You can't be that mean."

Gilbert: "It's love, love."

(I feel like I should protest...)

Whenever I see Gilbert looking so happy with just one kiss, I can't say anything.

(... I'm pretty much the same way.)

I cleared my throat and blew away the embarrassment that was clearly out of place.

Emma: "And by the way, that cane... it was a gun."

Gilbert: "Do you want me to make one for you?"

Emma: "No, I don't need it."

Gilbert: "Eh, you're cold..."

Emma: "I don't need a gun, but... like that cane, there's still a lot I don't know about you."

(… And the best example of that is, of course—)

I stare at Gilbert's face.

Although I have lived at Obsidian for a fair amount of time now, I have yet to see beneath Gilbert's eye patch even once.

I wonder if there is a scar under the black eye patch or if there is another reason.

I had avoided asking until now, thinking it might be a topic I shouldn't touch, but Gilbert seemed to see right through my thoughts.

Gilbert: "… Are you curious?"

Emma: "Very..."

Gilbert: "I can tell you."

Emma: "Are you sure?"

(That’s surprisingly easy—)

Gilbert: "However..."

Gilbert hugs my waist and puts a bewitching smile on his lips.

Gilbert: "At night, on the bed...?"

══════════════════

After Walter diagnosed that Gilbert was doing well after the surgery, he began to bring me into his bed more often.

At first it was just light kissing and sleeping, but then the clouds began to lift...

Gilbert: "Well, what do you do when you get in bed?"

Now there are more days when a kiss is not enough to get him to forgive me.

Emma: "… I'm embarrassed every time."   //   "… It's embarrassing every time."

Gilbert: "I just want to see you embarrassed."

(Really, I've never seen anyone as bad as Gilbert.)

Smiling, Gilbert sits on the bed and looks at me.

I wanted to cry at the look that was not going to be turned away at all, but I emptied my mind and dropped my negligee on the floor.

Gilbert shakes his head as I am reduced to a thin piece of cloth.

Apparently, I have to take it all off to get under the eye patch.

Gilbert: "Take it off, or I will take it off anyway, right?"

Emma: "… It might be less embarrassing if you took off your clothes."

Gilbert: "I doubt that."

(…?)

I was beckoned to come closer, and Gilbert stood up and mercilessly stripped me down to my underwear.

(Uwaaa!)

I quickly crouch down on the ground to cover my body.

My whole body was burning because I was not prepared for it.

Gilbert: "You're embarrassed when I undress you."

Emma: "… It was so sudden…"

Emma: "Anyway… Why am I always the only one naked—"

Gilbert: "What, you want to see me naked? No, Little Bunny, you're shameless."

Emma: "Which one of us is the shameless one!?"

Gilbert: "Ahaha, I'm only going to make love to you, okay?"   //   "Ahaha, I'm only naughty for you, okay?"

(… I am not pleased. This is exactly what Gilbert wants.)

Laughing, Gilbert picks me up and rolls me onto the bed.

When I got down on my back and hid my body, his tongue crawled on my back.

Gilbert: "Turn around, Emma."   //   "Look at me, Emma."

Emma: "… I don't want to."

Gilbert: "Then I won't take off my eye patch either."

Emma: ". . . . . ."

Gilbert: "In the first place, if you look that way, you won't be able to see me, right?"

(It's all about the end result…)

I was kissed repeatedly on the back and occasionally bitten sweetly.

The frustration gradually outweighs the embarrassment of being naked.

(… I want to see what's under his eye patch…)

(I want to know the Gilbert I don't know.)

When the rain of kisses stopped, I made up my mind and turned my body up...

Gilbert: "Ah, finally our eyes met."

Emma: ". . . . . ."

He has a beautiful ultramarine eye that I cannot help but admire.

Emma: "… It’s blue…"

Gilbert: "I was born with it. It's my complex."

Emma: "Why? It's so beautiful."

(Red and blue... I've never seen one with such a distinctly different eye color.)

Unlike red, the color of blood that seems to destroy everything, blue is gentle and full of affection.

My impression of Gilbert changed drastically from the right side to the left side.

Emma: "I love it."

Gilbert: "You may love it, but I will never love it."

(If you're going to go that far, there's something traumatic—)

Gilbert: "I mean, don't I look like a baby?"   //   "I mean, don't I look like a child?"   //   "I mean, don't I have a baby face?"

Emma: "…… Huh?"

I just couldn't keep my voice straight.

Emma: "It kind of… makes you look younger when you have both eyes showing…"

Gilbert: "I feel like it's more appropriate for my age if I hide it with an eye patch. I don't know."

(Oh, the reason is more than I thought.)

(… It’s sincere...)

I instantly turned my face away, but it was too late.

Gilbert: "… You smiled just now."

Emma: "N-No… I'm not smiling."

Gilbert: "I hate lies."

Emma: "Ah... nnh—"

Gilbert puts his fingers in between my legs with a look that makes me wonder if he's disapproving or amused.

Emma: "Don't…"

The cold fingers caressed my sensitive spot, and gradually, an obscene sound of whimpering and moaning assaulted my eardrums.

Gilbert: "Oh, I haven't even touched you that much yet—"

Emma: "… I-Is that really the only reason… for the eye patch?"

I forcibly interrupt the words that incite shame and then go further.   //   I forcibly interrupt the words that incite shame, and he goes more deeply. **

Gilbert: "No? There are other reasons, but you don't need to know them."

Gilbert: "Because it's no longer necessary."

(What does that mean—…)

Emma: "Ahh… mmm…"

Fingers penetrate deep into my body, and my hips lift.

I didn't have the time to ask the questions that came to mind.

Gilbert: "Hehe… Since I told you a secret, I deserve something in return."

Emma: "… W-wait—"

Gilbert: "Hey, you're not going to try to run away from me, are you...?"

I tried to escape, but Gilbert was expertly holding me down,

Without a moment to catch my breath, I had no choice but to take the stimulation given to me in stride.

(… I feel like… I'm being trampled…)

Eventually, his cold fingers and the heat in my body assimilate and become one.

No matter how many times I shuddered, he wouldn't let go, and the feeling of wetness was uncomfortable.

(A heat... in my belly...)

When I grabbed the black shirt, saying I couldn't do it anymore, the eyes of different colors responded in different ways.

It is really strange because the red one looks mean and the blue one looks like it is smiling gently.

Gilbert: "By the way, there's a lot more I haven't told you."

Gilbert: "I'm actually writing a book…"

(… Huh.)

Gilbert: "I've been drawing designs for the dress I gave you…"

(Eh…)

Gilbert: "Oh, and then..."

Gilbert suddenly remembers and pulls something shiny out of his pants pocket.

It was an insignia of King Chevalier with a white tiger emblem.

(When did you...!)

Gilbert: "This is terrible."

Gilbert: "I can't believe you have a man like me and yet you have something that belongs to another man."

Emma: "It doesn't mean anything strange!?"

Gilbert: "For you, maybe."

Gilbert: "But it's Chevalier's way of harassing me."

Emma: "I don't think—"

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Chevalier: "There will come a day when you can use it if you want to establish a friendly relationship with Rhodolite."

Chevalier: "… Besides, I want to get revenge for being pushed around by Eyepatch, too."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

(… It might have, it might happen.)

Gilbert: "I'm jealous."

The moment the villain turned up the corner of his mouth with a smirk, my body was penetrated all of a sudden.

Emma: "Ahh—ahhhh…"

Without a shred of gentleness, he roughly gouges the heat out of my stomach.   //   Without a shred of gentleness, he roughly and violently hollows out the heat in my stomach.

My vision flashed, and my breathing became violently erratic.

Gilbert: "All you need to worry about is me…"

Gilbert: "The mere sight of another man makes me want to kill him, okay?"

(… It's more of… a threat than jealousy…)

Gilbert's "like" is dominance.   //   Gilbert's "love" is dominance.

Domination was an expression of his affection, and perhaps that has not changed.

(But... he doesn't take away my freedom, and he respects my heart.)

The occasional contradiction between what he says and what he does is evidence that he is wavering between beast and man.

My nails dig into Gilbert's perilously unstable back.   //   I dig my nails dangerously into Gilbert's back. **

My body heaved more, and I felt a tingle in the pit of my stomach.

(Gilbert now has… a human side as well…)

(So, I—...)

I let go of the violent pleasure with my breath, so much so that it almost took away my sense of consciousness.

Emma: "Just a little bit more... Please trust me."

Emma: "… I will never, ever betray you."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Emma: "… What is this "betrayal" you speak of, Prince Gilbert?"

Gilbert: "Well…"

Gilbert: "That you are no longer you."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

(I'm… staying me.)

No matter how many more secrets about Gilbert I learn in the future,

I know that his underlying wounded heart is filled with love for others.

Gilbert: "I see..."

A pair of flickering eyes covered my vision, and my lips were sealed.

His lips, which are usually cold, are now so hot that they almost burn.

Gilbert: "I'm troublesome, difficult, and tough, but do your best...?"

The reply was charmingly lost.

(—I wonder if he's aware of that.)

Just as there are things I don't know about Gilbert, there are things he seems unaware of as well.

(Someday, I'd love to teach you.)   //   (Someday, I want to tell you.)

(Why I love you, even if you're mean, even if you threaten me…)

Gilbert, who does evil things to me without seeming to take offense...

He always had sincere love in his eyes——

𝗟𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿:

To my beloved Little Bunny   //   To my darling little rabbit

I thought it was a good idea to lock up the little rabbit, but I guess not. I need to think of other ways to love you… If you have any good ideas, could you write me a letter? I will seek a compromise with your input as well.

Come to think of it, there's been a lot of talk about letters since I came to Obsidian. Before, I couldn't write anything without a question from you, but now it seems that's not the case. I have so much I want to tell you and share with you. I wonder... I haven't wanted to write a letter to someone like this since I was a child.

I used to love to write letters. Since I am frail and have spent most of my life in bed, letters are the only thing that connect me to the outside world. There were also a few friends who I never met face-to-face, only through our exchange of letters… My brothers, mother, and friends all taught me so much, and it was something I looked forward to every day.

I stopped doing any of those things when I became a beast… Hey, Emma. Write to me when you have time again. I'll keep writing to you too.

Oh, and by the way, you have no right to refuse this. Write a letter, or be forced to write one. You have a choice between those two options...?

Gilbert von Obsidian

[the-three-last-brain-cells]

Oh boy, you made a mistake in asking for character design headcanons. I will go insane if you don't stop me. I'm gonna make this be small text so the ask doesn't get too long.

First of all: Hair. Because not even the authors seem to be able to agree on that. I might send more asks on other topics, so beware.

Peter has the messiest hair. Partially because it's messy by nature (it's that sort of hair that just does not cooperate), partially because he's out surfing so much and the salt in the air at the ocean does things to your hair. Speaking from experience. I don’t really know how to describe it but it gets slightly wet from the air droplets and also firmer and more textured so it kinda stays wherever you brush it to? Kinda like hairspray or gel put kinda not? Anyway. I would love to say Peter has soft hair, but no. Not with how much saltwater it gets into contact with. Saltwater is not kind to your hair. Also, his hair is reddish-brown and moderately straight but probably gets a little wavier when met with ocean spray air (once again, speaking from experience). Probably outgrown haircuts from time to time.

Justus has somewhat floofy hair, but it's definitely not as floofy as Bob's. Our beloved Erster probably puts a bit of effort into how he looks but not too much. Definitely doesn't miss hairdresser appointments because he needs his hair to look organized because everything else just icks him. Black hair, maybe slightly to not-so-slightly wavy.

Bob, my beloved! Curly blonde hair and lots of floof. I imagine it's a moderately light blonde, in any case lighter than Jelena's. Takes to styling his hair from time to time but his hair doesn't listen, so he just starts wearing it naturally and absolutely rocking it. I can’t decide whether his or Justus's hair is softer but both are definitely soft. Also, not entirely hair-related headcanon BUT: Bob has tiny scars at the back of his head from his various concussions and if you run your fingers through his hair and look for them, you can feel them.

Skinny, in my head, is blonde, but his hair is bleached blonde and not naturally blonde. I imagine he probably plays around with hair dyes and so you can find leftover traces of those in his hair from time to time. Pretty messy hair but that's because he doesn't brush it. He thinks it's cool. The general vibe is: Tries so hard to look rebellious™ and cool that it ends up being not cool.

And finally (because I'm me and I can't help myself): Jelena. Jelena has straight, dirty blonde hair that goes until about her chest/just below her shoulder blades. She experimented with bangs/curtain bangs for a bit and they're growing out now, which looks a bit messy from time to time if she doesn't feel like pinning those stray hairs back. But otherwise, she takes good care of her hair. Very soft but not very shiny.

There we go, long ask over! Hope this is what you wanted...

EXACTLY WHAT I WANTED YES YES L, danke! Vor allem Peter's Salz-haar situation und Bob's Narben.... very very good

[gcantread]

July 2024 reads

[loved liked ok nope dnf bookclub*]

^borrowing this format from @ofliterarynature—hope that's ok!

The Blue Castle • The Metamorphosis • A Reaper at the Gates • And Then There Were None • I'm Afraid You've Got Dragons • To Be Taught, If Fortunate • The Mysterious Affair at Styles • Till We Have Faces • This Ravenous Fate • Here Lies a Vengeful Bitch • Dragonhaven • [title withheld; SMP] • The Name of the Wind • Better Left Buried • The Body in the Library • Rose Daughter

My biggest reading month so far in terms of quantity, though only third-biggest in terms of "pages" (which I think is a bad metric anyhow—you can typeset them so differently! I wish every book told me its word count.) I read a lot of books in order to see if they're worth reading in @bellasbookclub for the 2024-2025 season, plus I was doing the BBC summer reading challenge! I also devoured my way through several ARCs coming out in August.

The Blue Castle ★★★★★ - I reread this once or twice per year at this point. This time around I read it to @flowerslut and we had a blast! Still the ultimate comfort read.

The Metamorphosis ★★★☆☆ - Also with Shannon (we listened to the audiobook on the way to and from San Diego!) Figured it was high time I actually read this if I was gonna go around calling things "kafkaesque." Somehow exactly what I expected.

And Then There Were None ★★★★☆ - Pre-screened for book club! So I don't wanna say too much other than "I liked it."

I'm Afraid You've Got Dragons ★★★☆☆ - Disappointing. Plot was a bit all over the place and it was difficult to sympathize with the main characters. A shame, because I like the premise!

To Be Taught, If Fortunate ★★★★☆ - Read for the BBC 2024 Summer Reading Challenge. Fun and reflective! This was my first time reading Becky Chambers, and I liked the writing style and themes.

The Mysterious Affair at Styles ★★★1/2☆ - Another book club pre-screen. A solid mystery.

Till We Have Faces ★★★★☆ - Yet another book club pre-screen. My best friend's favorite book and now I can totally see why.

This Ravenous Fate ★★★☆☆ - An ARC I got signed by the author after seeing her speak on a panel about YA and romance. Unfortunately a huge letdown, possibly because I had such high hopes for the premise of "queer Black 1920s vampire x human." Alas, it had some cool vampire lore but was overall a convoluted mess and not nearly 1920s-enough!

Here Lies a Vengeful Bitch ★★★★☆ - Another ARC I got from the same event and liked much better. Cool Jennifer's Body-esque premise, snappy voice, and a fun protagonist in the murdered and vengeful Annie. Perfect Halloween vibes!

Dragonhaven ★★★★☆ - Also pre-screened for book club so I shouldn't talk too much about it but I can't help myself (@ book club LOOK AWAY) I wasn't expecting much from this book because I've heard Robin McKinley fans voice their disappointment in it, but it turns out I'm the exact niche target audience for this. National Park politics and conservation science struggles and zookeeping?? I'm seated. I can see why others didn't like the pacing, but I was nodding along like "Yes, the difficulty of procuring grad students to come study dragons, of course. Do go on"

[title withheld; SMP] - I didn't realize this was an SMP book until I was halfway through it. Oops. A shame they still don't have their act together, because I'd love to talk about this one.

The Name of the Wind ★★★★★ - A title I've heard raved about a million times by a zillion people, so naturally I picked it as one of my BBC 2024 summer reading challenge books to see if it lived up to the hype. IMO it does! Fun, poetic writing style, cool framing device, and interesting worldbuilding and magic system. Curious to read the sequel.

Better Left Buried ★★★☆☆ - Another ARC. Cute queer YA murder mystery that I honestly don't have much to say about other than "it was cute."

The Body in the Library ★★★1/2☆ - And another book club pre-screen book. My first Miss Marple! Mostly elevated by having an interesting ending twist and class themes.

Rose Daughter ★★★☆☆ - And to no one's surprise, my final book of the month was also pre-screening for Bella's Book Club. Very pretty writing and it was fun to read while wearing a bit of rose oil (smell-o-vision!) but I didn't loooove the pacing and overall prefer Robin McKinley's other Beauty and the Beast retelling, Beauty.

DNF

A Reaper at the Gates (50%) - I sprinted through book 1 and walked sedately through book 2 of the Ember in the Ashes series, but this one (book 3) was taking me forever to read (and is almost 700 pages), and I was impatient to move on and read other stuff. Reaper at the Gates was decently interesting and I still care about the characters, but the timing just wasn't right. Will probably pick this series back up later.

July superlatives

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: Hi, sorry to write again I truly do not know how to solve this. I'll be as clear and direct as much as I can this time. I'm carrying a burden and I don't know how to get rid of it. I feel like I don't have permission to be happy, enjoy my life and have experiences with other people because as I said, I feel this invisible pressure from my mother not allowing it and being disappointed by me. I don't think she'll be able to do much if I break free, but:

Being in a hostile home and environment with her around would put me in an even worse mood

Everytime I get the urge to enjoy myself and try new things an impulse inside me prohibits me from doing it anyway, telling me: “You are not allowed”. It's an automatic reflex, I struggle to break free from it because it's so overwhelming and oppressive. I do not know what it is. I know that after this I end up judging and berating people who enjoy and live their lives as a means to “defend” myself. I feel bad because others are allowed to live a normal and fulfilling life (especially on an emotional level) and I'm not.

What is going on with me? How do I solve this? How do I deal with my mother? How can I get rid of this weight I'm carrying? I think I put too much on your plate before, so I'm fine with getting an answer only to these these questions if possible, as it's the matter I care about the most and I'm having the most trouble sorting out. Thanks.

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

It is a fact that your upbringing was not supportive of your ego development. If you truly want to resolve this issue, the first thing you have to do is stop wasting your time and energy on unproductive things like blame, projection, self-pity, or self-dramatization. Unproductive psychological activities keep you trapped in negativity. The more time you spend doing them, the more they drain your energy away, like a black hole.

In short, what this means is, you have a choice to make in every second of your life: Do you choose to devote your mental energy to the positive or the negative? You can't have it both ways. Your mental energy is finite. You can't indulge the negative and then expect to have tons of energy available for doing positive things.

Yes, you are indeed "childish" but not in the way you mentioned before. Your childishness is found in two important elements of your psychology:

1) Lagging Ego Development: Like a child, you are still motivated by the approval and disapproval of authority figures. Since you see yourself as being so small, everyone around you becomes a threatening authority figure.

It is a natural part of human socialization for children to learn the customs, norms, and values of their surrounding society in order to become a productive member. This often means deferring to authority figures in order to facilitate fitting in. However, when a person is still overly preoccupied with fitting in as an adult, they are no longer learning how to socialize in a healthy way but veering into unhealthy conformity, i.e., repressing or sacrificing the true self.

How to resolve this? At some point, it is necessary to grow up into an adult. To be an adult is to exercise your intellect, your will, your needs, your preferences, your beliefs and values, and your prerogative, in order to strike the right balance between honoring yourself and your social obligations. Adults don't need to ask for permission to live; they simply exercise their innate power.

The invisible weight you feel is not really your mother. You have internalized her values to the point where your own voice got silenced, which is usually an indication of Fe overindulgence in INFJs. You were not encouraged and even discouraged from growing as a person. This isn't your fault. However, you are no longer a helpless child. It is now your responsibility as a self-aware adult with the capacity to learn and grow to rejoin the path of growth, through speaking up, standing up, and asserting your adult independence. If you choose not to, you don't get to blame anyone but yourself for staying stuck in childishness.

2) Lagging Moral Development: Young children have a very superficial understanding of morality and are primarily driven by simple pain and pleasure, reward and punishment. They don't stop their bad behavior because they truly understand why it's morally wrong, rather, they only stop because they want to avoid the pain and shame of parental disapproval. They rely on those in power to dictate what is right or wrong because they don't yet have the intellectual capacity to evaluate complex moral issues on their own.

When an adult still holds the moral perspective of a child, they are easily manipulated and exploited by anyone because they simply believe everything they're told. How to resolve this problem? I already stated it: Improve your reasoning skills so that you are able to think for yourself and make good moral judgments on your own.

An important aspect of becoming an adult is learning the knowledge and skills you need to get through life with faith in yourself and confidence in your abilities. Since you have chosen to isolate yourself from the world, you have basically given up every opportunity to develop your potential, and this leads to low self-esteem and low self-worth. You must reverse the process of making yourself small and finally do what it takes to build yourself up, out in the real world.

.

I don't tell people how to make decisions in life, so I can't tell you what to do about your mom. The point is that, being an independent adult, you have to be the one to set the direction and find the best path forward. I can only tell you that the best path forward is always based on care and love. It should not be driven by negative things such as pettiness, blame, resentment, anger, or hate.

The issues you raise aren't uncommon for INFJs or even the general population. The topics of ego development, moral development, auxiliary Fe development, independence, critical thinking, boundaries, self-esteem, the negative effects of abuse, etc, have already been covered in previous articles.

[ladythornofrivia]

Endless Reds and Blues

Here's the link for the synopsis and the chapter list--read chapter 1 first before the next chapters.)

Pair: Kakucho x Reader (Warning: Bullying, Gossip)(If you're under 18, I'm sorry but you can't read this)

Author’s Note: I hope you don't mind a long chapter. I'm still doing my best on writing the story. So I decided to make this as a series, so I don't know how many chapters are going to be. Enjoy this chapter. (Note: Report if someone decides to steal the synopsis and my story. And notify me. Thank you) ❤️

Chapter One: Beg for Forgiveness

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

It was useless.

No matter how much you try, it won't work.

In the classroom, it was nearly empty. Everyone headed out for lunch. Only five people stayed in the classroom, automatically eating the lunches they made, prepping their chopsticks and dug it into the cooked portions inside their bentos.

At last, you have found peace. You hated the ruptured noise earlier before lunch time. In this instant, you wasted no time on getting your headphones and your IPhone, turning up the tunes to set a good mood for you to read the book.

Sometimes, you carry a large book, reading chapters like time never ended. Sometimes carrying two books is a must, in case one book you read is finished. Books are the only thing that kept you from company. Moving into Japan from a different country was all but hard work. A dream of travelling and staying in a certain country was an ideal dream.

You want to get away from familiar people who constantly annoy you, and those who are born with blissful ignorance and a glowering judgment beneath their kind smiles. Sometimes, accompanied your loneliness by drawing is another way to waste time instead of talking to people. After all, you weren't good at socializing; you're not a party person. Therefore, you aren't good at anything that involves with talking to people. Not a single hello won't slip past your sealed lips.

As cliché as it was, this is the very best for you to enjoy and simmer down the anxiety has been built up in your consciousness. Transferring from a different country is one thing, but mingling with people as an outsider is another. It was a hell of a challenge. Not that you're bad at speaking in Japanese, but it says a lot due to the circumstances you had. You've been transferred here in the school since about a week ago. Culture and mannerisms are far more different from where you originally came from.

The first time you came into the classroom, the teacher scribbled down your name in Japanese language whilst he talked and informed to your new classmates in a total of 30 people regarding you as a transfer student. Nervous as hell, you kept yourself calm, hoping no one would see your inner conflict, provoking a fret all over your stiff body.

Once the teacher is finished on a long blabber, he made a gesture for you to make an introduction about yourself.

With a slight bow, you said, "Nice to meet you."

Your classmates murmured, in the most obvious way possible. Out of everyone's looks, yours is different. While theirs was a black hair and dark eyes, yours have a long and voluminous dark crimson hair with greyish eyes.

"Is she cosplaying?" one girl said to her close friend. "She can't dye her hair."

"She's wearing contact lenses, too," the close friend said. "I don't think the principal would approve of that."

"Not everyone approves of that. If she's trying to be funny, I don't think I could find myself laughing."

*(this is what the reader's hair color looks like)*

*(and this is the hairstyle reader has during school hours.)*

"I don't like the way her grey eyes are looking at our direction," the friend whispered.

"I agree," the first girl said. "Let's just avoid her."

Though you didn't take it by the heart. It's all going to be the same, just as what you usually do when you're at your old home and school. It will be mundane. Everything will be quiet. Different faces, different environment, same routine. Nothing special or promising will come to you.

"Go take a last seat over there by the window on the right," the teacher instructed.

"Yes, sir," you obliged in Japanese, and sat at the last row by the right side of the window. You can see the clear view of grey skies and a greenish field.

"Alright, let's get on with our lecture," the teacher said.

Despite a good and clean environment, you've stepped into a world where no knows you but you. The teacher's important lecture didn't register into your ears. You're too busy on what you're going to do next with your time at your new home. And more so, your new life.

A voice snapped out of your deep thoughts from thinking about your past. Her voice was so loud you removed your earphones and tone down the music you're listening to.

"Hey, (y/n), there so much food by the cafeteria!" your friend, Himiko, said to you with a marveled smile on her face. "Come on, we have to get the food before they're gone."

Himiko has always been a lively girl during lunch breaks.

Flicking through the page, you said, "Not now, Himiko, I'm trying to finish something here," without looking up. "You go on ahead."

"You always stick your nose into books," Himiko blurted. "What are you reading?"

"A book," you said, concentrating deeply.

"Yeah, but what kind of book?" Himiko insisted.

You showed Himiko the book you're currently reading.

"From what I can tell, that's not written in Japanese," Himiko said.

"You're right it's not," you replied with a little smile. "I'm reading the first book of A Song of Ice and Fire series—'A Game of Thrones'."

"It's a huge book," Himiko said with wide eyes.

You smiled back as an answer and continued on reading, flipping onto the next page.

Himiko stood up to your side and pushed your posture back and forth. "Come on, I wanted to eat something. I can't go at the cafeteria without you."

"Sorry, I have to finish this before going to the next book."

Frustrated, Himiko sighed. "Fine, I'll go by myself. But--"

"Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh--they're here! They're here!" the girl lightly patted Himiko's back shoulder with a hyperventilating breath.

"Who's here?" Himiko's brows shot upward.

"Those gorgeous looking guys who just pass by. Aww, they're so cute and gorgeous up close. I want a microscopic shot of their faces and their god-like body. I can't get enough of them!"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"You're too busy with that girl reading that ridiculous large book," Himiko's friend responded coldly.

"Whatever," then Himiko faced you. "We're going to see the boys up close!"

"I thought you're getting food," you said.

"I am, I am!" Himiko shouted back as her friend drew her away from the classroom's door.

"Whatever you say," you said, resuming on reading the novel.

*~~*~~*

"Why couldn't Izana get the food and drinks himself? He has his own hands and feet to move and reach?" Kakucho complained to himself.

Though Sanzu heard it all.

"Because he's your king," Sanzu replied.

"He's our king," Kakucho shot back, rather firmly, not a sense of hostility hinted from his tone.

"Got his favorite drinks?"

"Strawberry and banana milk," Kakucho confirmed. "And some candy."

"Isn't this great? We can get the food and drinks without paying those stupid fuckers you call responsible adults."

Kakucho said nothing; his eyes averted, not at Sanzu's pinkish locks. Beyond that, he saw a girl. A beautiful girl with shining black locks and a black-shaded eyes gleaming with hope and innocence, something that other peers lacked.

"I'll be right back," Kakucho said, running past Sanzu as he shoved the drinks and candy onto Sanzu's chest.

"Dude! You're supposed to carry all this shit, not me!" Sanzu whined.

Ignoring Sanzu, Kakucho marched his way towards the girl with glimmering black hair swaying underneath a mingled wind and pink cherry blossoms, who was laughing with her group of friends.

Kakucho cleared his throat. "Hello, Mariko," he said with a tinted blush onto his cheeks.

Mariko turned; their conversations died down.

"Oh, Kakucho," Mariko gave a wide innocent smile at him.

His heart raced harder.

"If it's okay with you, mind if we talk somewhere quiet?" Kakucho asked.

Mariko looked at her friends for a second, then back to him. "Sure, why not?"

By the empty courtyard on the other side of the school building, they stopped at the middle of the path with cherry blossoms clearing the air as Kakucho find his way to confess his love to a dimpled-smiling Mariko.

"Um," Kakucho cleared his throat. "I was wondering...what kind of music and movie do you like?"

Mariko was taken aback. "Is that all you're going to say to me, Kakucho?" her lips left a whole-hearted giggle.

Eventually, Kakucho's pinkish cheeks turned into a deeper shade of red, looking away to the empty baseball field. "No, that's not what I meant..."

Mariko studied him carefully, in awe of his newly persona compare to his usual composed self.

His hand reached behind the back of his hand, scrubbing downwards with his sweaty palm, then snaked it upwards onto his long hair.

"Is everything okay?" Mariko asked, leaning her head forward in concern.

"I'm....I'm..."

Mariko waited.

"I'm not okay!"

Mariko slightly gasp at his outburst. "Why? Is there someone who was bothering you?"

"No."

"Harassing you?"

"No."

"Do you want me to get the wet towel? Your face is red."

"It's not anyone awful, okay? It's someone who was bothering me in a good way."

She blinked. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I---I like you, Mariko," Kakucho said. "I like you ever since middle school. You're so sweet and kind and patient. No girls would ever be nice to me the way you did. You're always there when I needed help with something. You're the reason why I kept myself awake at night. You're the reason why you gave me nothing but hope and goodness in life. You're the hope and goodness of my life, Mariko. Please...be my girlfriend!"

Mariko is stunned to give a proper answer; her friends followed her all the way from the cafeteria. They heard everything he confessed, the secret diary in his heart has been exposed.

Biting her lip, Mariko looked around, and reclaimed back to her usual calm and kind self, just as Kakucho professed.

"Why won't you answer me?" he asked, his bow dwindled as he faced back up.

"Because..." Mariko shook her head. "Because I'm in love with someone else. He already asked me to be his girlfriend. I'm sorry."

Kakucho held back his despairing moment.

"Who's this guy? Is it someone I know?"

"It's none of your concern," she said sharply.

Kakucho has never heard Mariko speak in a cold tone, as if someone impersonate Mariko.

"You're not lying, right?"

"I never lie. You should know that by now."

"Why?"

"You know why," Mariko said with bitterness. "You're a 3rd popular member of Bonten. If anyone sees us dating, let alone touching you or laughing with you or talking with you, I'd be in trouble. I'm sorry, Kakucho. I won't be friends with you, either. Please forget about me. I'm not the hope and the goodness of your life." Then she bowed and left with her friends.

And Kakucho left stranded in the open field with shame.

*~~*~~*

"And done!" you shut the book and went over to the next book, but not the sequel of a fantasy novel, rather a dystopian novel 'The Hunger Games'. You haven't watched the movie version, so reading the books first is the better option.

A pair of lunch food slammed onto your desk as Himiko said, "I got you lunch!"

"Oh, you don't have to do that," you said to Himiko.

"Nonsense. I'm your friend," Himiko said, sitting at her desk beside you, noticing you’re holding a different book. "You're done with the thick book!? The one from earlier!?"

"Yeah," you said with a triumphant smile.

"How the heck did you read so fast?"

"I have commitment skills. It takes practice, but, I got the hang of it," you said, laughing.

Himiko stared at you for a second.

"What?" you said.

"You have a pretty smile," your friend pointed out.

You hid your face behind the dystopian book. Himiko pushed it downward.

"I'm serious. I never seen you smile like that."

Then you smiled to yourself. Sometimes a good smile can't be wasted.

"Have I ever told you that you look like a princess from a story? I wish I have red hair like yours."

Your face is heated with blush. "No, no one ever told me that."

"Oh shoot!" Himiko slammed her hand against her desk.

Your shoulders flinched as your fingers gripped tight onto the open page. "What is it?"

"I forgot my favorite drink!" Himiko stood up and ran as she said. "Without my favorite drink, I'll be a goner!"

"Okay, good luck," you said with a little wave, but she's gone.

Turning the page open to chapter one, you're already immersed with the impressive prose that the author wrote. As you plugged your earphones back in, you heard a noise nearby.

"Watch it, you stupid fuck! You ruined mine and Kakucho's suit!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," you heard Himiko said to a guy.

'What the hell is going on', you thought to yourself.

People bursting into the scene, you make way into a dreaded scenery of Himiko, kneeling down in front of a young man with long pinkish hair. And behind him, a group of tall men, who are trying to proceed their way at the hall but halted by the uproar.

"I'll pay you guys back, I swear," Himiko told the guy with pinkish hair.

"Not going to happen," the pink-haired boy, a hint of smile behind his words.

"Let her pay back with exact amount of cash we bought for Izana. There's no point in scaring her, Sanzu," the taller guy with purple hair and clean-cut style said to Sanzu.

"He's right," the young man with raven hair and a large scar etched across his face. "You're scaring the girls."

"This clumsy bitch ruined my suit. If she wants to pay back, she's going to have to start working at a high-paying job," Sanzu seethed. "Or find other ways to pay back the debt she owed us."

Sanzu lifted Himiko by the hair and lifted her body off the ground. People around them gasped with horror.

"What do you say? Are you going to pay it back or what?"

Himiko cried as Sanzu gripped the hair tighter, snapped it with a harsh pull.

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry..." Himiko muttered.

You couldn't stand it any longer. You went up and grabbed Sanzu's wrist and shoved it back towards him. The push was so hard Sanzu nearly knocked down on the ground with the Haitani brothers while you retrieved and pulled crying Himiko back, shushing her with comfort.

Somewhere in the hall, someone gasped. "The red-headed girl touched Sanzu!"

"And she went near them closer than 3 inches!" Another voice chimed in.

Sanzu drew a long hiss.

"Who the fuck are you?" he asked, his back slouching with a his left arm shielded over his mouth.

"Don't fucking touch Himiko, you pink twig," you shot back.

Shortly, Sanzu released a maniacal laughter. Everyone else watched and stayed silent at his antics. Kakucho however is still sad because of the rejection, but his eyes hardened, and controlled his down casted heart and drawn his focus at the red-headed girl with a glare of her grey eyes.

"I don't care who you are or what you're trying to pull," Sanzu's footsteps went faster, and his face went near towards yours, glowing eyes sparked with rage. "She's going to pay back either way. So stay out of my business and stay in your fucking place, are we clear?"

"Let's just go, Sanzu," the young man with a scar across his face--Kakucho reminded. "Mikey's going to be mad if we're late."

At this instant, your heart is set on fire. You let go of Himiko and rushed back into the classroom to grab your hardcover of a thousand page fantasy book and sprinted outside, catching up to Sanzu.

“(Y/n), no!” Himiko screamed.

"YOU MOTHERFUCKER!" you yelled in English, as your hands swung high with the thick book in the air, prepare to give a good shot at his face.

Tag: @colored-tr-panels & @galactict3a

[bookworm-center]

Dirtyhands and the Bloodbender: Chapter V- Creeps At The Club

Author's Note: This is the last one of my published chapters, so I won't update right after each other, I just wanted to get them all here. This is also the last chapter before the SoC storyline (even though this technically takes place during chapter two) so buckle up!

Previous part below:

Dirtyhands and the Bloodbender

Y/n L/n: Creeps At The Club

Kaz has closed himself off from me, more than usual at least. He barely talks to me, and when he does it's always about a job or information I should know. I don't know what happened with Rollins', but it was evidently something major enough for him to build up the walls I had worked to climb over.

I know that Kaz is going to meet with Geels and expose Big Bolliger as a traitor. I'd never liked the guy, he was always a bit too lazy, a bit too dumb, and far too risky, but I still felt only a little sorry that he would be caught on the receiving end of Kaz Brekker's fury. At least Kaz trusted me with this information, even though I was left behind yet again.

I am stuck at the Crow Club, watching the dealers and pigeons. I almost had easy work, chatting with the bartenders as the sun steals away the last moments of day. A woman rushes over to me. She can't be much older than me, maybe early twenties at most. Her dress is plain and pressed and it takes a second for me to recognize her as one of Kaz's Dregs. One of her hands clench my wrist, a muttered "miss" under her breath. Her shaky fingers close over her thumb as our eyes meet in a moment of realization.

"Who?" My voice barely surpasses a whisper. She points at a group of five men, all dressed in mercher black, in the corner of the Club. I walk over, making a good show of loudly talking to the dealers and all the Dregs scattered amongst the tables. It's a form of warning, as I make eye contact with them every few seconds, yet they still don't leave. I plant myself right in front of them. I'm shorter by at least a head's height, but by the look in their eyes, they're scared of me, and rightfully so. "Leave our customers alone or leave the Club. This is your only warning."

"I would never take orders from a girl like you." says a man standing in the back of the group. The way he says girl is nearly a snarl.

"I said you would only have one warning, but you're evidently daft in the head, so I'll say it once more: leave. Now." I'm glaring at the group of them, and four of them are smart enough to slink out back into the streets, but the other one who spoke back to me still stands firm.

He leans down, like it's supposed to make me feel lesser. "No."

The whole Club seems to go silent. It's funny how everyone, even the pigeons, know I should be feared, except for this foolish ass. I punch him across the face and grab his arm before he reacts. His shoulder pops out of its socket as the man howls, falling to the ground. My foot lands on his chest. "If you don't fear me, you at least should fear my boss. You've likely heard of him. Kaz Brekker?" I speak conversationally, all though the man can't answer. "If you show you're face here again, or anywhere in the Dregs territory, you will have both Dirtyhands and the Bloodbender hunting you down. We will pick you limb from limb before tossing you into Fifth Harbor and leaving you to drown. You don't want that, do you?" The man shakes his head rapidly and that's when I finally lift my foot up. "Then leave now."

The man runs out and that's when I am faced with the gazes of all the people in the Club, so I say the first thing that comes to mind. "Drinks on the boss!" I raise the cup that I still had in my hand, cheering ringing through the Club.

That's when Jesper and Inej walk through the door, followed by Anika and Rotty. Kaz's isn't there and I want to ask but if he wants to ignore me, I'll let him. There's no point seeking out someone who is avoiding me. Jesper sees me through the crowd first, raising his hand in a wave, before sweeping me into a hug. "Hey Y/n/n."

"Hi Jes." I grin, following Inej's gaze as she looks around the Club.

"Have you seen Kaz?" She asked. I shake my head, brows creasing.

"He wasn't with you?"

"He wanted to walk alone." I nod, wondering where he is, but at this point I am too tired of Kaz cutting me out of the inner circle to care. I drag myself to the Slat, to sleep, to a night of nightmares that await me.

[justmybookthots]

Legendborn

Um??????????

I put this book off for so long because a) I heard the next book in the series only comes out in 2025 and I didn't want to be left hanging, and b) I wasn't the biggest fan when I heard there was a (sigh) love triangle in there. And yet here I am, having finished it at long last.

Confession: I was/am in the middle of something like a reading slump. February has not been kind to me with my reads. When the Ann Liang book I was anticipating for months let me down horrifically, ALL the books that followed either fell flat too or were just… middling. I went through book after book feeling empty, and then I told myself: you know what. Legendborn has been on EVERYONE and their mother's radar, and their responses are the same—near unanimous acclaim. It's honestly quite insane.

So I took a gamble. I got the book and started reading it. 

You can TELL. You can just TELL when a book hits right for you, unlike the ones I read before it. I was hooked. Engaged. Totally captivated. I'd read and DNFed another fantasy book just weeks ago, which also utilised King Arthur lore (titled Silver in the Bone), but somehow Legendborn succeeded where that story failed (for me). Maybe I'm just a basic bitch who's a sucker for the typical storyline of a normal girl finding herself entangled with a group of monster slayers and doing tournaments to become one of them. (Is this why… I was instantly enthralled with the Infernal Devices??? Or why I love Demon Slayer—the anime—so much????? I am finding out new things about myself.)

But sure… the beginning isn't anything too different from traditional YA structures. But as you get going, and you continue down the road, you start to see new grounds being tread, and it deviates from anything I've personally read as a teen.

As usual, even though I loved this book, I'm going to do what I almost always do and explore the dichotomy of what I liked and didn't.

Spoilers abound. 

Didn't like:

It was predictable… up to a point (and then I was GOBSMACKED but we'll get to that later). Like, I knew pretty quickly which characters were going to make it to Squires and which weren't. You could just tell from how the author treated certain Pages (the folks trying to be Squires) in a more favourable light. The nice ones win, the not-nice ones don't. I'd have liked more nuance in their characterisation, TBH.

Speaking of which, however, Bree's characterisation at the start was rough. Like, she'd do stupid shit and get in trouble and continue being irresponsible. I wasn't surprised Alice was mad at her, and I don't think that the trouble she faced stemmed solely from her race but rather her irresponsible behaviour (going off-campus when she already knows that's grounds for expulsion and she STILL gets mad when the dean, who decides to let her off, is churlish with her. Seriously?). That said, I am NOT Black, and I can't speak for the quotidian prejudices they face, so take my perception of it with a grain of salt. In any case, Bree changed and this was no longer an issue for me later on.

Nick. And his whole romance with Bree. Like, I really did NOT care. And Nick was pretty much a white boy-damsel in distress the entire story. Every time screen time was devoted to their romance, my eyes would glaze over and I'd start skimming all the kissing and stuff. 

There were a lot of characters. Like, a lot. Too many. My brain was scrambling trying to remember and place everyone in their different roles. And aside from a few (bless William), they didn't have very distinct voices. Greer had, like, ZERO distinctive voice other than being non-binary, which should not be the only thing to define a character. Whitty was… nice, is all? Everyone kinda just melded in my brain, which is probably why none of the character deaths really hit me. 

I'm not a huge fan of Chosen One tropes. But this does play on the trope in a VERY interesting way. 

WHAT I LIKED (!!!!!!!!!!!):

The whole concept of Root and Bloodcraft. I LOVED how the author used magic to convey the colonisation of white men. The idea that Legendborns forcefully TAKE their power, while non-Bloodcraft users only borrow their power, speaks volumes to me. It was such a good way to portray real life.

Also??? The ending twist about Bree????? All along, I was convinced she was secretly the Scion of Lancelot, but I wasn't sure HOW, because all the knights are obviously white. And then the author pulls a fast one on me and she's actually fucking Arthur. The reasoning is so good. I loved how the White Man's own cruelty and their disgusting ownership of Black people led them to this predicament. I think THIS was the part that truly sold me on how terrific and unique this book was.

Characters-wise… William. Like, I adore the fuck out of him. In another world, in an even less conventional book, William would have been the hero for me. He's exactly my type with how calm and confident he was without needing to be overbearing about it. In fact, he was so gentle. (Makes me think of Jem Carstairs, but obviously Jem is THE published blueprint for types like this.)

Sel. Yes, I know I just talked about how I didn't like overbearing characters, and I initially went into this book expecting to hate him, but… :) I thought he was quite justified in his hatred / distrust towards Bree at first, knowing what he knew about how the mesmer and Oaths didn't take. I'll see if my opinion of him changes in the sequel. 

I  really, really liked how for once, King Arthur wasn't depicted as just some hero. He actually seemed almost villainous in this book, especially in the moments when Bree was possessed by him. What happened to her supposedly getting wisdom when she Awakened, though? This man does not sound wise at all. I am intrigued.

I am so glad I read this book. SO GLAD. I was down in the dumps for a bit and finally reading a good fantasy made me feel a thousand times better. I'm a bit nervous reading the sequel because some things often don't live up to their predecessor, so I shall see.

- 28 Feb 2024

[tojiscumdumpster]

𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝙗𝙮 𝙇𝙖𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙣 𝘼𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙧

𝗕𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝗼𝗳 2023

𝗠𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝘃𝗲𝗻𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲. 𝗙𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗗𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴.

𝗚𝗿𝘂𝗺𝗽𝘆 𝘅 𝗦𝘂𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗲. 𝗔𝗴𝗲 𝗚𝗮𝗽 (𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗹𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘀)

I devoured this book in a day. BookTok has been raving about Terms and Conditions for ages, and I never gave in until now. I've been reading nothing but billionaire romances lately, so I wanted to try this one out. This was my first time reading from Lauren Asher, and honestly, I think I'm going to check out her other work. I really like how she writes.

The author isn't black, but I do appreciate her for writing a Black FMC. She did it well. No stereotypes. No microaggression. You know, things I worry about when a nonblack author writes black characters. She added important things like Iris getting braids, making it know that she's a black woman by making her skin color known, wearing a bonnet, etc.

Speaking of Iris...

I absolutely love her. I think she's super fun and adorable. Like her personality is addicting. No one Declan fell for her hard. I do feel she was a little too hard on herself at times due to her learning differences, which is normal since so many talked bad about her because of it--including her own father. But she didn't allow that to hinder her career. I love how she's her own person outside of Declan. That's important to me in a romance story. It's like yeah the MMC and FMC are supposed to fall in love, but I wanna see who they without each other around. Iris's friendship with Cal was sweet, too. Very enjoyable and clearly they are two peas in pod if they get a kick out of getting on Declan's nerves, LOL. I giggled at times.

Now for Declan Kane...

Yeah, he's added to my book boyfriend list. I see of the bad reviews saying they didn't love Declan, and that's he's insufferable. See, me? I LOVE Declan. He's such a grump. A billionaire asshole who softens up for his girl. I really like how Lauren wrote Declan. He has daddy issues, struggled at times, but overall, he didn't allow that to cost him the future he desperately wanted with Iris. Great development from his character. When he's an ass. He's an ass. But when he softens up for Iris? Gosh, he was so damn sweet to her. I was definitely swinging my feet while reading. His family is... complicating, to say the least. Declan's father is horrible. My bad. Seth is horrible. Declan's relationship with his problems are oddly heartwarming, despite how much they argue. I mean, that's inevitable for siblings. But I still love seeing them interact.

I really love Iris and Declan's chemistry. It didn't feel forced or robotic regardless of their arrangement. It was built very well. The spice scenes were written nicely, too. I didn't really care for the lack of obscenity because it was replaced with intimacy, which I loved. Especially from Declan's POV. You knew from the beginning he always had a soft spot for Iris. Third act break up was good too. Thank goodness it didn't stem from miscommunication. I would've cursed myself if that happened. But Declan I wanted to hit you with car for what you did. Still love you tho. And honestly, I think he didn’t grovel more is because the author probably didn’t want to make the book longer than what it was. Lauren was probably trying to wrap it up, LOL. Still, maybe she couldn’t written in a time frame within those three chapters. The two epilogues were very sweet, too. I love how they blossomed, and enjoy seeing Declan that way and Iris so happy. They deserved that happily ever after.

I highly recommend this book and I would definitely reread this book. I honestly can't find one thing I dislike about this book. Maybe the only I thing I can say I wished happened was flashback chapters for both Declan and Iris's past. I think that would've made the story a bit more angsty. Other than that, an easy five star.

[proxyedgy]

So, a few months ago I remembered Houseki no Kuni was a cool thing I watched once upon a time and decided to look up the manga. And then I read it. Past where the anime adapted. Up to chapter 75, then I stopped because I am not in the state of mind to periodically wait for unfinished stories like I did in high school, so I'd rather stop at a pleasant point and wait a good while to pick it back up.

And, all's well and good. I had a good time and am still extremely invested in whatever new way this author decides to break my heart with. Catharsis and stuff. Yep.

But then comes November, I go to an anime event. With the intention of buying myself something. With my own money. Which I am stingy about because I mostly use to buy food since I hate cooking-- Bottom line, I am walking around. There is hardly any merch I would like to have. Still, I am having a good time being on my own and going at my own pace. There is a manga stand.

There is Houseki no Kuni. First two volumes. Translated in Portuguese. They have holographic covers. I buy before even asking the price. This is a historical event. I can count on one hand the number of manga I adore that get translated, and that number is now three.

I come home. I look up the publishing house website. There are more. I buy then in the beginning of december like a happy joyful idiot and they take far too long to get to my hands because of a silly little detail called xmas. Never heard of it, to be honest.

And now, now, finally, after all hope was lost, I received my package. Brought it home in quite the mood. Forgot to have dinner and am now suffering a headache because it was just oh so important to read the same story I read before, only with far higher quality than the scans I found online. And in portuguese. Have I mentioned that?

There is, a certain quirk, let's say, with portuguese. A detail that almost clashes with this particular story. Because this is, after all, a story about gorgeous gemstone people who are very much agender lesbians. And portuguese, a very unromantic language, absolutely loathes the idea of not gendering every word and concept. Therefore, when translated, all of the gemstones use he/him pronouns. I can't explain how that makes me feel, but it is a happy feeling, or at least so I'm inclined to believe. Male pronouns, female androgyny. Interesting choice.

Quite a lot of choices are make when adapting this kind of material and they were a joy to notice, I'll say. The way the word "sensei" has been translated, but his name remained as "Kongou", unlike every other gemstone. A peculiar detail, a good hint, shows the care put into this. The gems themselves, many pleasant words to see in my own tongue, some of which I had never read before and made me wish I had a class on gemstone geology. The more delicate moments, like turning the original "fu-an" syllables of the lunarian speak into something else while retaining the wind sound.

My, the work of an adaptation, it's such a creative endeavour. Translators have it hard, but to see something go a step beyond to be accessible in another language, in my language, like this, I have nothing but respect for every choice made.

And not to mention, how different it is, to have the book in your hands. Manga does not retain the scent I find familiar and comforting from my childhood and teenage years, but their rough pages offer quite a nice experience too. And, most of all, I find myself scanning them for details more easily, being far more absorbed into the lines when I can hold them close to my face like this.

This manga is quite a beauty. The lines are so simple, and that makes it so much easier to follow. The best part, however, is the sheer number of wide panels. Blacked out panels, with white lines. I've never seen a story that plays with panels like that. I love every single one. There is such a sense of shock, and scale, and emptiness, and feelings which I can't name. It's great, really.

Now, pacing, that is the despicable evil that makes me ramble so much. Because it's one of those stories, that ends every chapter with a cliffhanger, and it's such a tall cliff, I am indeed holding the thread from which these characters hang over this tremendous fall. I know the story, I know what happens, I read it recently, it's fresh in memory. Yet, yet, I am shaking right now, because the last volume translated ends, like every other before, in a scene so utterly tense that I cannot reach catharsis through any means other than complaining.

Yes, this was all a huge complaint, yet still I cannot bring myself to dislike even a single thing. The first time I saw this story, it felt mean-spirited, in some way I couldn't articulate at the time. It is, truly, stained in hopelessness, however that is not the same as despair. As I read it now, perhaps I understand it better, even if the sting still hurts the same every time. It brings up frustrations, and annoyance, and impatience. It's a story that begs for what-ifs, but couldn't proceed any other way. I find that true for all my favorite tales, so I suppose it's just fair that this one gets my number three spot.

I love, love, love you, Houseki no Kuni, Land of the Lustrous, Terra das Gemas.

[primewritessmut]

YOU DID IT 1, 3, 4, 12, 14, 15, 24, 25,

I FUCKING DID IT

favorite fic you wrote this year

Oof. I think I've said this before but my favorite fic is always the one I'm currently writing. Like, once a fic is done, I hope it loses my number because it is dead to me.

That being said, I'm really fucking proud of Songs for the Zombie Apocalypse (for a lot of reasons) so I'm going to say that one. And also... Normal Frenemy Shit because it has maybe my favorite Spideypool scene I've ever written in it. And the wound fucking, of course.

3. favorite line/scene that you wrote this year

Man. Okay. Well, I already mentioned the Normal Frenemy Shit scene (the eating on the obligatory rooftop "date" one). The ninth chapter of Hang Me Up to Dry (SFTZA). Annnnd, let's say the closet scene from every star for you because the world needs more wlw smut.

4. total number of words you wrote this year

Just wrote? Not published? I mean, I'm not done but I'm definitely over 400k. (Also, I can't believe you always make me share my shame inducing numbers with you.)

12. favorite character to write about this year

Mobius. If you had asked me before I watched Loki, I'm not sure what my answer would have been, but now it's Mobius. I love him as just Some Guy™️ with the dad jokes and swag to capture a god's attention. He's such a compelling character, and so, so different than a lot of the representations of "men who work for authority" we get. He's just the guy that said, "I can fix him" and then actually did. The order to Loki's chaos.

14. a fic you didn't expect to write

A Particular Set of Skills. I really, really didn't want to start a whole other fucking fic for those two, but Black Ace captivated me and it couldn't be helped.

15. something you learned this year

I AM CAPABLE OF WRITING THINGS THAT DON'T END IN ROMANCE. Don't get me wrong, I love romance and am glad to be back in fluff city, but for so long it felt like every fucking thing I wrote ended not just with a happy ending, but with a romantic one. I like happy endings, and I'm not going to cull them from my stories forever, but it's nice to know that I have the skill (now? always?) to write something that isn't (strictly) romance.

Sapphic gothic horror here I come.

24. favorite fic you read this year

I'm going to pick something that so far away from a fandom I would typically participate in. Not because I don't like it, but I just wouldn't come in contact with the source material.

Poison Apple by surveycorpsjean which is a SoapGhost (COD) fic that scratches some of my worst itches. (You recommended it to me so thanks!)

25. a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read

Here I was, so proud of myself that I could come up with an answer to the last question, and you hit me again. Is this where I admit that I don't read a lot of fics? 😬 Okay. Okay. No. I have one. I think everyone should read it because it's entertaining as hell (and a super quick read, too!), but I definitely think that writers should read it so they can see just what kind of shit you can do with limited words and only dialogue.

we're never speaking of this again by @periodically-puzzled

As I was going through my bookmarks, it hit me just how much this single fic probably impacted A Particular Set of Skills. So, as usual, you and Puzzle inspire everything I write.

[immoralimmortals]

A Song With Ten Names

Chapter 29: Falling Behind

Chapter 1 ☆ Next chapter ☆ AO3 ☆ Featured song playlist

Summary of chapter: Is it the sun and the moon, or is it the moon and the stars? What if it's all three Kisame's looking for?

Author's Note:

Hey, so like...see the Itachi x Kisame tag? You see it, amidst all the reader x akatsuki ones? Yeah I meant it. You're getting that this chapter. I'm bi and queer and polyamorous and I'm making it everyone else's problem.

*Clap* It's polyamory time, baby!!! I'm still exploring this aspect of myself, personally, so I hope I wrote it okay and yall enjoy. The song for this chapter is Falling Behind by Laufey.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Moved out to a new city

June is dawning down on me

And all that I can find

A sickly romance in the air

Lovers stroll without a care in sight

Ooh, this can't be right

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

He had another dream last night.

Ethereal, pearly white. Soft sheets wrapped around her body, protecting her modesty. Bright eyes both innocent and knowing, looking up at him as he sits across the bed. He reaches forward to hold her thigh and she allows, letting cloth slip off to reveal a bare shoulder. Her chin tilts down both seductively and with shyness, watching a hand with a red ring that appears behind her to help. There are soft coal eyes looking through thick lashes.

The swordsman of the mist isn't entirely sure where the line crossed between sleep and daydreams. At some point he realizes he is sleeping on his stomach, arm stretched as if wanting to hold someone beside, but alas, that space will never be filled. Kisame watches his own knuckles curl around the linens, a sigh of acceptance escaping his throat.

Knock knock.

Itachi is there, speak of the devil. Kisame swears he looks at him with the same eyes as in his sleep...but he knows better. How selfish of him to want the exemplary of two genders when neither are fit for the likes of he. All the same, he tries to smile for his best friend once he drags himself out of bed and opens the door. "Morning, Itachi-san."

The Uchiha blinks, murmuring a "hn" as he does sometimes; sickeningly enamoring of him. "We should spend time with her this morning."

Kisame blinks. There is no other “her” to spend time with, so the assumption is clear. And yet... "Sure. But...is there a reason for today in particular...?" He receives a shake of the head. Black locks of hair always look so soft, almost like the harshest of conditions could never weather its beauty away. Maybe blood makes a great conditioner, the shark jokes to himself.

"No reason." The Uchiha whims are so much more flighty than you'd expect, merely under a veneer of grim attitude; Kisame knows well the whimsy Itachi holds back. He knows, too, that all the same there is most definitely a reason. Ah well. Not his place to question.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Touched the ocean, fell right in

Stepped outside and burned my skin

My life won't go my way

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The fishtank is set on a counter somewhere in the depths of this mansion, a regal setup of dark colored wood with flourishes of carvings about it. A mighty fine place for a little fish meant to be eaten. She feels like that sometimes; might be why she’s spent her first moments awake holding her chin on top of folded arms and staring inside. The woman has no idea what kind of fish it is, but perhaps it doesn’t matter. It’s enough to help keep her mind off of things, hoping and wondering if such an animal can feel happiness and safety. This is the state Kisame finds her in, outside looking in seeming to be still sleepwalking, as she’s been the past week-so. But her mind is more awake, thanks to the escapades of someone with purple eyes and someone else in an orange mask.

The tallest Akatsuki cocks his head once done dipping it underneath the diminutive entryway, taking in the traveler’s presence before it’s interrupted by his large, disruptive self. She’s so sweet, sweet as...what did she call it? Cotton candy? Whatever it was that was merely sugar spun so fast it's thin like gossamer. It’s almost a shame to interrupt her. “How is it doing, Takara-hime? Think I did good enough for it...?”

The moment she sees him, hands reach out, asking for him where a voice struggles. What a blessing. He leans down to his ward and abides. The woman certainly has a real knack for asking for him after these wonderful, terrible dreams. Her hands tenderly take his, thumbs stroking the knuckles with what he remarks as anxious energy. He smiles at her, as he always does.

“Ah, good." Her actions are returned by Kisame in much the same way Itachi's are; you need not speak to communicate, sometimes. "So...how are you, Takara-hime?”

A twitch of a smile herself before it falls, a silent equivalent of promising she’ll be okay even if she’s not quite yet. A shadow falls in the entrance of this nook, Itachi haloed by morning sunlight from a hallway window.

“You should eat, Takara-san.” Dutiful as always, Kisame notes of the Uchiha. Usually it’s him that’s more sickly, but the one occasion Kisame so much as caught a cold had his partner practically crawling on him to make sure he got rest and food. Somehow a man has such a bleeding-heart that sometimes he’s heartless; the enigma of Itachi is endless. Though the kindness isn’t lost on her, the traveler shakes her head; she is not hungry. “Tea then,” Itachi decides. The two shinobi lock eyes for a second. They often talk without literal words, knowing each other’s body language so well, but to the swordsman there’s a tinge of...something. Something he can’t entirely pin down.

Regardless, the instruction unspoken is to stay with her while he goes. A pleasure and a temptation, the kiri-nin finds, as the soft hands tug his a bit more. Oh, this is horrible; the man grits his teeth to concentrate on the real world versus fantasy. He wants to kiss her so bad, lay her on his mattress and hear her beautiful voice moan his name—

"K-K-Kisame...?"

—And he's awake, purple tinging his cheeks. She's trying to mime for something, arms and hands gesturing, surely, but make no sense. He raises a brow and gives an amused, confused, lopsided grin. "What? What's up, princess?" Is it bad to call her that if that's what he dreams of saying on top of her? Frustrated with herself, she asks for his hold once more. Tentatively, it moves towards her, gradually guided to slip under the strap on her shoulder. What is she doing...?! Breath hitching, the shark sees a vision of himself pulling it off and pressing her onto that daybed just behind her—

...Wait. This is...familiar.

...

...

Oh.

"You remember that..?" To this the woman nods, smile back on her face. Kisame smirks harder. "Yeah, I still have the stuff."

A moment later, the gift of the florist reenters the traveler's life, first time since the day knight and ruler met. Something about how they already had the awkwardness, in one way or another he admitted to thinking of her that way— sensually— and she shrugged it off...it makes it easier for her to interact with him right now. Tobi and Hidan especially...love them, of course, but there's a toll on her spirit, especially after discovering the throws of battle. She needs peace, and there are two who give it to her in abundance. A happy accident that Kisame and Itachi are the ones who spend most time with her today.

Honestly...Kisame especially. His eyes don't put you to sleep.

Point is, she trusts him with this, with one request. The lotion she hasn’t felt since the day it was opened releases the same scent with a crack of the lid. Kisame has no idea what the hell is in it...but it is nice. But it reminds him of her, so of course it does; perhaps the pleasure is inevitable. There’s been a couple of times he opened it up again just for that reason. A part of him wants to offer the jar to her, but he can tell from the look in her eyes: it’s him that she wants, just as before. Fingers dip into the milky salve, other hand brushing back her hair off her shoulder. So trusting, so trusting. She shouldn’t trust him, but she does. What is he to do but try? Her eyes soften the second skin is on skin, a slight bob of her head as serenity finally finds a place for her once more. She hums and her eyes close shut, trusting him to do whatever he shall like as she sits on the edge of the silky daybed.

Dutifully, the knight massages. One hand becomes two, encasing either shoulder so small in his palms. She hums again. Her voice even so small now is still so pleasant to the ear. He isn’t prepared when he gets more:

“Daffodil.”

He grunts questioningly. There’s the most sincere smile on her face, much more sincere than his will ever be. The woman repeats what it is, the perfume of magic her friend from the flowers sent her way:

“Daffodil.”

He grunts again, almost hoping it’ll make her speak once more. Her voice is beautiful. She takes his hand, interrupting the massage, and she urges it back into his own space. Disbelieving, it isn't until the traveler places his own fingers on his own neck that he gets it; she wants him to try it, too. “Yeah? That’s what this is, huh...?” If she talks back, he can’t hear. The world seems whiter, more like the bedsheets he wants, and a devil on his shoulder tells him something, as she beams so perfectly up at him with the scent of narcissus surrounding in the air:

Tell her.

It would be the perfect moment to.

Look at her: Radiant and soft and arms forward to touch you. Your princess, without a single doubt, is happy with you. Say it. Make her yours.

...

...

...But he can’t. It wouldn’t be fair, not when she’s like this, only just reconnecting with reality and clinging to him meanwhile. And besides, when she’s fully “awake” again, if she ever will be...then she’d never want him like that. Kisame must hide not only his lust but his love. That’s only what is right. He couldn’t protect her, after all, from the outside world. Who is he against what’s within the tailless beast? Who would want a monster like him but someone equally disturbed, wrong in this world?

He isn’t as good at hiding his feelings as he thinks he is. The upturn at the corner of his lips fades and weary eyes don’t blink as the woman looks back at him. Her lips part, trying to find what she very much wants to say—

And then Itachi walks in, three cups of tea on a tray. Kisame sees her seem to forget him entirely, approaching the Uchiha with delight and gratitude upon her face. The woman hands him a cup and he knows where his place is in the food chain.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Bossa nova in my room

Hope that I'll find someone too to love

Because...

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Maybe the saucer and the teacup are made for each other.

This is the sort of phrase that repeats in Kisame’s mind, watching from the back porch as the lady sits outside on the swing, his partner behind. Even from this angle, he catches glimpses of her smile, seemingly even brighter with Itachi around. How strange it is, a human manifestation of darkness and crows and a blood red moon bringing sunshine when he walks in. Always has had a knack for it, really… But it’s the first time he’s seen it happen to someone besides himself. Girls chase Itachi, yes, something about Uchiha genes or pheromones, who the hell knows. But it’s not the same. It’s not the same way he spellbounds Kisame, he’s always told himself. And the longer he looks at Takara, the more he sees the same in her. Joy, actual joy, not merely a chase nor a fling nor candy for the eyes. She loves him. Kisame has a hunch Itachi may love her too. That might be the something hiding in his eyes...

He sinks more into the hold he has against his knees, pressed to his chest as he watches them under golden autumn leaves, a grumble under his breath. Oh, what a failure... He couldn't protect her. He's not good enough. What can he do to make the longing stop? But he doesn't want it to; he wants this suffering, even if nothing else. How selfish. Does she know it hurts him to ask for him like this, insist he join as a third wheel under sunshine, that all these days in domestic bliss are but a blur? No. Surely not. Too sweet. Too sweet...

And Itachi...the swordsman sees the barest smile on his lips a prize. Itachi...after everything...we are always parallel, aren't we? Never going to cross. Beauty, indeed, is to be put on the highest shelf outside of his grasp, as best deemed by fate itself. His hands are not gentle, after all. They will fumble, Takara the teacup and Itachi the saucer. Ironic, given how tall he is. But...Itachi at least can fend for himself; the crow will survive on his own, however unhappily. Takara...

She needs someone.

So maybe the saucer and the teacup are made for each other.

...One piece of porcelain gently tugs the sleeve of the other. A careful palm goes behind her back, stilling the swing. A hum in the back of her throat, the traveler points behind. She points to Kisame. Other arm slung in his cloak, Itachi turns his head to follow, evaluating. No, Kisame tries to promise with his eyes alone, he’s no rival for you. If it’s you she wants, it’s you she’ll have. But the something in his black eyes persists, sharper than before. Maybe it isn't love after all...? The stare is interrupted as the woman gets up from the swing, walks over, and she takes a blue hand once again.

“Eh?” It’s obvious what she wants— for him to get up— but she still doesn’t get it. “What’s up, princess?” Stop calling her that, his own mind says. But he can’t help it. Words still fail her, so she insists with a tug for him to rise to his feet. Standing up becomes walking, and walking becomes following. He follows her all the way up to Itachi, whom he gives an awkward quirk of the corner of his mouth. She persists even still—

“What? On…?” Oh. Well. Uh… Well. What choice does he have? The grown ass man does as told; he sits on the swing.

“Okay...like this?” Imagine him months ago, being told he’d be more than happy to humor the childish whimsies of a girl from space. He’d laugh in his own face. Even more so when he’d mention she wants to push him on a swing. Who is he to deny it, though?

It’s a bit pathetic, to be honest. He feels her hands but he hardly moves, but she keeps trying. Oh, sweetheart, he thinks, you needn't try to do such a thing for me; you were having such fun yourself. I don't need a turn. These thoughts stay inside, lest his denial hurt her more. A grunt of frustration, rare before but unheard nowadays from her—

“Takara-san.”

The hands leave his back. Another pair come up, holding his shoulders; Itachi’s touch sends electricity down his back, and the voice behind his ear does not help. “Care for a push, Kisame?”

Purple stings his cheeks and Kisame’s head dips in embarrassment and seething bittersweet irony. A chuckle. Then a laugh. “If that’s what the lady wants!” How ridiculous...but he’ll do it. It must mean a lot that Itachi will for her, too, just because it's asked for. Certainly that is proof that he loves her...

Kisame imagines himself young, younger than days of bloodshed and regret and so many lies. He feels a grip strong and a tug soft alike upon his back and wonders if there was any way things could have turned out different.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The sun's engaged to the sky

And my best friend's found a new guy

I'm only getting older

I've never had a shoulder to cry on

Someone to call mine

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Cicadas: some say they sing, some call it screaming. Either way, they fill Kisame’s mind from the cracked open window in his bedroom. Maybe it’ll keep him up; he wants to stay up. He wants to either never sleep again or sleep forever, and he cannot have both and make it out of this with heart intact. Another pale dream and he’s a goner, most assuredly and could never look Itachi or Takara in the eye, the only people still alive that give him the time of day. He rubs his temple—

Knock knock.

An exhale. Who the hell could that be…?

The door cracks open and it’s the woman’s turn at his door, garbed in her nightgown and a nervous hand to her chest. Worry wells up immediately in his own. “Princess…?” She somehow looks even smaller.

“I…” she quivers, and her head tucks deeper down into her shoulder. “I...I…” There’s no choice but for the man to wait, see if she can find her words. What could be bothering her…? What did he do wrong today? Kisame tried so very hard to leave her alone whenever possible.

“I’m sorry.”

His heart stops.

“W-…”

And she walks right into him; before big blue arms can hold her, it becomes abundantly clear that smaller ones are climbing around Kisame instead. He is being held, at least as well as one so small can try. “I’m sorry.”

The repeated phrase makes him frown. “What’s there to be sorry about, princess? You didn’t do anything wrong.” But she did, most certainly she must have:

“You’re scared,” she says into his ribcage, reverberations cutting straight in. “I don’t want you to be scared.”

“Takara..." Oh, good gods above...what has he done? What has he done to do this to her?! "You have nothing to be sorry about...!” Stinging, stinging. Kisame thought he already got all his crying out of the way, back in the early days of her safe return where she hadn’t enough wits about her to notice his red eyes. They prickle the edges of his gills now, forcing the top of his cheeks to press up lest tears fall down and make things worse. “It’s me. It’s me that should apologize. Don’t be sorry.”

“Why?”

Why?

“I failed," he answers easily, and his palm cups the back of her head much the same way. "My mission is to protect you. I had the gall to promise you you’re worth protecting. And...and you are. You are." The swallow in his throat tastes like oversteeped tea. "But in the end...I…I...” Maybe he is scared after all.

There isn't really a way to excuse this in a way that'll make him happy. She has to try another route. Desperate fingers try to massage his shoulders, best as they can blind and without daffodils. "Y-...you get to try again."

And his heart flips and races thousands of miles per hour. A moment, and finally his smile is real again. "You're very kind."

"No..." He needs to know; how does she get him to know...? One response, and it is desperate:

"I love you."

A simple answer that should tell him everything he'd ever need to know. Breathless. Disbelief. Maybe— no. No. She wouldn't understand, comprehend the way his heart works like no one else he's met before, and therefore he picks the safest meaning for himself out of these words. He scruffs her hair, trying to mix away the teardrops that managed to escape him before she notices. "Much too sweet, Takara-hime..." He swallows again more of his shame and denial of fate, and though he wants to blame this on a loose tongue, the next phrase is calculated. "I suppose I love you too."

But she understands his love better than he thinks.

“You...make me...feel safe. I want...to make you feel safe...too… Can I stay...tonight?”

And how can he say no to that?

It makes him nervous, and it doesn't help that she has no worry of it, of a grip that can kill around her delicate little waist and teeth that can rip so close to her skin as the princess in white moves her fingers down to curl around his own. Each touch...it is, indeed, clear that she's more worried about him than herself, even after all that's happened. She guides him to the bed, lays down first, and reaches out to him. He more so watches himself wrap around her than feels it being done. She smells like daffodils, hard to ignore with his face right in her neck as he climbs in, space so small he's nearly on top. Even so close, all he can wonder is if the lady with the perfume craved her, too. Maybe she did, bestowing a gift so intimate, so perfect to know only when you're nearly melting into the same skin.

"I love you," she says again. The hair on the nape of his neck is stroked, and almost like a switch, he immediately feels his eyelids weigh down. "I'm sorry."

And for once, he can't tell her not to be, not when it hurts so much to be with her like this when it isn't what she wants, surely not in the same way he does. Warmth swathes her again and she falls asleep, head in his bare chest and a scared man's arms around her sides. His own eyes are closed...but...but...

The last thing she thinks of is how she's sorry that she can't explain better what it means when she loves someone, unable to ask if he's like that too. They'd have more in common than he thinks.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Everybody's falling in love and I'm falling behind

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

There’s no way he can be allowed to fall asleep in the same bed as someone else. The fight must be won. These cursed fish eyes need to stay open. No dreams, not with her so vulnerable like this, he so much an animal of carnal desire. 

He starts slow, as soon as her breathing slows and stays that way, hips backward first and then oh so carefully arms slip away. She shivers like he was keeping her warm and his heart aches. The smell of rain is outside, from the crack in the window and he follows his instincts to the ocean in the sky.

Bare feet step on wet, musky earth, the decay of leaves speeding with the rainfall. Kisame’s chin tilts up, sharp teeth peeking out from slightly parted lips as he lets the precipitation hit him, blend in with whatever saltwater may or may not be left upon his face. What does he feel? More importantly, what should he feel…?

“Kisame.”

The named man gasps. Only a few people get to see Itachi without his Akatsuki cloak; it’s almost like it’s a part of him. But here they are, the hypnotist no longer covered up by the bulky black and red, dressed instead in grays much like that his irises carry much of the time. Well trained, Kisame waits, but unlike usual, Itachi...doesn’t command. Not even with his gaze. There is no clear instruction, and so he hums in growing confusion.

The dark-haired man barely, oh so minutely purses his lips...and he steps forward, joining the shark in nighttime rain. “You’re not well.”

Kisame’s not, but he can’t admit that. “Not any worse than usual,” he shrugs. He avoids Itachi’s stare, the something is still there, still unreadable and therefore bothering him. “You’ll get sick if you stay out here, you know, Itachi-san.”

“I could say the same of you.”

…

“You know that’s different,” the swordsman rebukes, quietly under the hiss of falling drops of rain.

“Kisame.” Itachi could say his name and ask for anything, and Kisame would do it no questions asked. Murder, theft, arson...—

He asks not for these things right now. In disbelief, the man feels a weight press into his side.

“She’s worried about you.”

Ah. Of course. Of course he’s just thinking about her. It’s as Itachi should be; no one else is so well suited to protect a princess as a prince is. But still...that doesn’t make sense. “I gathered as much.”

“Did you?” Itachi challenges, voice soft, gaze still asking for his. “Then why not do something about it?” The beast frowns in disdain.

“...You know very well I can’t indulge what I want.” Three layers to this— three layers at least, two people and one the creeping desire of chaos and death with a sword in his hand. He can’t have his cake and eat it too; he can only pick one. ...And two of them would have to pick him back. That leaves only one sure choice.

Kisame doesn’t notice he’s gritting his teeth until Itachi tells him to stop doing that.

“Relax, Kisame.” And a word, one he’s not used to: “...Please.”

…

The Uchiha is unwavering even as the rain hits his skin, no twitch, no shrug, still as a statue. He's being serious; no mere pretense of it this time. “Promise to take care of yourself, Kisame. Lighten the burden on your shoulders.” In surprise, the named man finally looks back—

His black eyes are so handsome, glittering in the dark like this. It's like stars and the night sky. They’re the same eyes in his dreams, and Kisame’s heart flutters as it knows not what else it can do.

“No person is property,” the Uchiha assures, unbelievably. “I know we spoke before...about how no one could love the likes of us.” He said it. He said the word. Love. He’s never said “love” before—! “...But if you feel it, perhaps you should try. Whatever you feel...it is fine. It’s fine so long as it is wanted.”

Kisame’s own eyes are shaking in his sockets. “Itachi...but...you...—?” Who is he talking about? Him and her? Him and her? Him and...him…?

Itachi won’t answer that. As Kisame responds in silence, the crow realizes the shark still needs time to think, and perhaps he too does as well. It’s a lot, to realize one has affection left in their husk of a body after all. Hope hurts if you let it in all at once, instead of trickling in, sort of like the difference between drowning a flower and watering it every day, same amount given in the end with another result. As such, the touch leaves the knight. Kisame feels so warm that he swears there’s steam coming off of his face.

The rest of moon's hours, he waits for the princess to wake up, hands to himself and a heavy heart confused if it’s guilty or not. The next morning, the clouds are tinged pink and purple as the storm fades to the distance, and she tells him that's what cotton candy looks like. Itachi shows up in time to agree as if he knows, too.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Everybody's falling in love

Everybody's falling in love, oh

Everybody's falling in love but me

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───