#if you understood all these references without me having to explain then congratulations! you are chronically online in Tumblr TSP

[blackkatdraws]

goober art by @indigo-art

featuring: Black (my Narrator), Arthur (Indigo-art's Narrator), and Mantra (@deviousnarrator 's Narrator)

References:

- The Narrator Glue Trap Aftermath

- my Narrator being a yippee creature

- little bing kitten

CONTEXT: Indigo was drawing a comic about the glue trap aftermath. The following happened and Indigo drew out our silly antics.

[fueledbysano]

𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐋 kazutora hanemiya

"I can be a better man. I can be a better man for you. I hope, you know, if you'll let me. I can be a better man with you."

♱ pairing: kazutora x afab!reader

♱ content/warning: MATURE. MDNI. unprotected sex

♱ a/n: everyone say thank you to @mztoman for commissioning this fic! 🤍 if you are interested for commissioning a fic, full details are in my navigation^

mdni banner by benkeibear 🤍

♱ 2.9K

Kazutora was at a loss. He had been released from prison after several years, but his friends were nowhere to be found, and he had no place to stay. With Chifuyu gone, and Takemichi in jail, he had no choice but to start from scratch, and that meant finding a job and a place to live. He wandered around the city, which once knew in the back of his mind but now seemed like a different place altogether. 

Without a family, his gang, and his best friends, he was a new man.

It was the third day Kazutora had spent the entire day searching for a job, finally landing success. He was tired, but as he stepped on the train to head home, he couldn't shake off the feeling of relief instead of the hopelessness that had been gnawing at him for the past few days. Just as he was about to take his seat, he accidentally bumped into a young woman standing nearby, and they both stumbled forward.

Instantly, they both started to apologize to each other, their voices meshing together in a jumbled mess of apologies. Kazutora couldn't help but notice the woman's bright smile, her gentle voice, and pleasant face. Even though it had been a long day, she exuded a certain energy that was infectious.

As they sat down, she let out a sigh of relief and apologized for the inconvenience once again. “Are you okay?” Kazutora asks, “Yes, thank you.” She kindly replied before shortly noticing the stack of resumes on Kazutora’s lap. “Any luck?” Kazutora was surprised by her empathy, and found himself making conversation with her.

“Yeah, a record store.” He softly chuckled. “Record store? How cool… to be honest I thought you were some sort of pro musician, but, near enough.” She chuckled, and Kazutora was intrigued. 

“Oh yeah? What made you think that?” He asks. “Well, you have a very unique hairstyle and clothes. And that cool tattoo too! At least, it’s the vibe you give off.” She answered, feeling a strange sense of recognition.

He chuckled at her enthusiasm softly with a smile, “That would be really cool…” He nodded, “But yeah, I do love bands. That’s why I also considered working at the record store.” He explained. Kazutora had always been a solitary person, spending most of his time alone and not really paying attention to the people around him, but something about her felt familiar.

“Congratulations again for getting the job, …” She paused for a moment, realizing that she hadn’t gotten his name yet. “Kazutora.” He smiled and shook her hand. “Kazutora…Hanemiya?.” He chuckled softly, not used to being referred to with his last name, the one that he shared with a terrible human being he unfortunately once called “father”.

and that was the moment when it all suddenly connected for her— this was the delinquent Kazutora she once knew in middle school. The one who pulls his friend out of class, and goes out to gang fights. She couldn't help but think about the incident that had happened in the past. She remembered the day when he was caught stealing from a motorcycle shop, and how he accidentally killed the owner. It was a horrible incident that had left a lasting impact on the whole school and town.

But despite that, she knew that she understood that there was a whole story and context behind that. She had always seen the best in people, and she believed that everyone deserves a chance to redeem themselves. And now, as they had reconnected, she felt as though they were put in each other’s paths..

“It’s me, [ Y / N ] —” “[ L / N ]...” Kazutora finished for her.

Life is funny. They weren’t so close in high school, they’ve had a couple of interactions, all of which were pure, pleasant memories. She was kind, understanding, and she truly saw the good in people, even when they didn't see it themselves.

“You remember.” She was quite surprised, not expecting him to remember her at all.

“Yeah, I have a pretty good memory.” He smiled. “What are you up to these days?” He asks.

“Well, that story is going to take longer than my stop.” [ Y / N ] simply said. “I’ll just say that… it’s nice to have a fresh start.” She added.

“I know what you mean.” Kazutora agreed, and she smiled back, understanding where he was coming from.

Finally, when the train reached its destination, he mustered up the courage to ask for her number. And to his surprise, she gave it to him, with a small smile and a soft "good luck" as the train doors opened.

As he stepped off the train and into the night, he knew that she had given him more than just her number— she had given him hope.

As Kazutora walked through the bustling city to his new job, he couldn't help but think about her. The girl with the sweet and bubbly personality who had shown him so much kindness all those years, and when they met each other again on the train. He wanted to have a connection with her, but he also knew that he first needed to get his life together. He wanted to be the best version of himself for her, to be someone she could be proud of.

He reached the job site and got to work, feeling nervous but also excited at the prospect of starting a new chapter in his life. The work was tough, but he threw himself into it, learning as much as he could throughout the day and impressing his boss with his work ethic.

As the day wore on, while closing up the shop, Kazutora found himself thinking more and more about [ Y / N ]. He wondered if she was thinking about him, too.

"Good job today, Kazutora," she said, a warm smile on her face. He turned around to see her, looking just as beautiful as he remembered. She was holding a cup of boba and had a bright, energetic attitude that made him feel light and confident just looking at her.

“[ Y / N ]? Hey, I wasn’t expecting you.” He gave her a soft, welcoming smile. “I know, I’m sorry…” She chuckled. “It’s just that… you said you work in a record store around here, and… funny, because I work at a dental clinic a couple blocks away.” She says.

“Really? Well, that’s perfect… because then… I can take you home~?” He offered his hands for the bundle of shopping bags in her other hand.”

“I’d like that.” She smiled and handed him her bags.

As the day ended and they made their way back to the train station, they found themselves opening up to each other and getting to know more about their lives. As they talked, Kazutora couldn't help but be struck by how much she understood him. Even though they'd just met, he felt safe and comfortable in her presence. 

And as they continued to talk, as the train rumbled on towards its destination, he knew that there was a reason why they were brought into each other’s lives. He was determined to make something more of himself, to be the kind of person he could be proud of, the kind of person she deserved.

“I never really planned on staying here, basically. When I landed my first job out of the city, I got into a relationship with my superior and… well… the jerk turned out to be married. The wife showed up at work and started rambling about how I was a homewrecker.” He couldn't help but feel a sense of anger and frustration on her behalf, angry how someone could take advantage and betray her like that.

“Since then, no one would hire me in town. And I thought fuck it and returned here.”

He asked her what he could do to help, and she told him that she just needed someone to listen. He was happy to do that for her, to be there for her and to offer her a listening ear. And as they talked, she felt a sense of peace and calm wash over her.

They have reached their stop and headed to [ Y / N ]’s apartment complex. “I’d invite you inside, but my roommate is currently moving out so it’s really cluttered.” [ Y / N ] explained. “Ah, I understand, I’ve lived in worse circumstances.” Kazutora jokes. “I practically live in a can of sardines. Plus it’s under a train track so I get three hours of sleep max. But I guess that’s an upgrade from prison.” He chuckled.

“Come live with me.”

"What!?" he asked, unable to hide the shock in his voice

“Yeah… it’s hard to look for a new roommate anyway. I don't have the time for doing all that.” She explained. 

Kazutora couldn't believe his luck. He had just met her again after all these years, and now he had the chance to live with her, to spend more time with her, to get to know her even better. He didn't want to mess things up, so he did his best to act calm and collected.

“Are pets allowed?”

“Sure.”

She smiled at him, clearly pleased with his response. "I'm sure you'll be a great roommate," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "And besides, it's not like we're strangers. We're old friends, remember?"

He was determined to not make her regret meeting him again, to make himself into the person he always knew he could be, and to show her that he was worth the chance she had given him. He knew that he had a lot of work to do, but with her by his side, it’s like he took a big step forward. After all, maybe he didn’t really lose everything…

Christmas is a time of year for joy, for spending time with loved ones and creating memories that will last a lifetime. And for [ Y / N ], Christmas was supposed to be a time to escape the cold and spend some time with her ex-boyfriend. That's when she remembered the vacation house she had booked, but with no one to go with, she wasn't sure what to do. But then she thought of Kazutora, and how he had been there for her through everything. She decided to invite him to join her on the trip, hoping that he would say yes.

At first, Kazutora was hesitant. He wasn't sure if it was a good idea to go on a trip with someone he had such strong feelings for. But after thinking it over, he decided that he couldn't pass up the opportunity to spend some time with her outside of their daily routine.

As they made their way to the vacation home, they couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation. They couldn't help but notice the romantic atmosphere. Each corner of the house was decorated with lights and Christmas ornaments, and the scent of fresh cookies lingered in the air. They could feel the tension between them growing, and they both knew that this trip was going to be different from anything either of them had experienced before.

As the fire crackled in the fireplace, Kazutora and the[ Y / N ] sat close together, lost in their own thoughts. The comfort of each other's presence was palpable, and they both knew that they had been dancing around their feelings for each other for far too long.

Kazutora finally broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know that you were supposed to go to this place with someone else, but I'm glad that it ended up being me." His eyes were locked on hers, and there was a warmth in them that made her heart flutter.

She smiled, taking his hand in hers. "I'm glad it was you, too." She paused, searching for the words to express what she was feeling. As she looked into his eyes, she knew that he felt it  too.

They sat in silence for a moment, taking in the weight of their confession.

Kazutora leaned in, his face just inches from hers. "I love you," he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've loved you for so long, but I was too afraid to say it."

[ Y / N ]'s eyes filled with tears at his words, and she pulled him close, kissing him passionately. "I love you too, Kazutora," she said, her voice shaking with emotion. "I've always loved you." [ Y / N ] soon found herself  sitting on Kazutora’s lap, leaning in for another steamy kiss.

His fingers slowly rested on her hips, his heart rate picking up when he felt a surge of emotions wash over him. For the first time in his life, he was experiencing something so pure and beautiful, and it was with someone he cared about deeply. He was nervous, but excited, and as their lips met, he felt like he was on top of the world. He had never done so intimate before, and he didn't know what to expect, but he knew that this was special.

As they pulled apart, he looked into her eyes, and he could see the love and the kindness that he had always seen in her. He knew that this moment was the start of something beautiful, and he was ready to give his all to make it last.

“You look even prettier straddling me like this, sweetheart~” He admired her face, stroking her cheek. As [ Y / N ]’s lips begin to descend onto him, Kazutora could feel his heart pounding furiously in his chest. He can tell that her body is just as passionately waiting for his touch and kisses. So his hands go over her hips, pulling her closer to his body.

Kazutora’s hands slowly start to move upward, brushing up against her panties. He starts to pull on the fabric, looking at her with intensity. Her heart is beating rapidly right now as she breathes heavily above him. He feels the heat coming from her body, feeling her touch against his. He slowly brings his lips back up to her lips and kisses her deeply, his lust and desire overcoming him now.

He pulls her dress up, leaving her in her bra on top of him.

“Mr. Hanemiya…” She whispered sensuously, slowly working her hands down his pants. “It’s cold, isn’t it? May I warm you up~?” [ Y / N ] bats her eyes, enough for Kazutora not to notice her fingers beginning to undo his jeans. The way his last name rolled out of her tongue perfectly, the only time he’ll ever feel loved hearing it.

He pulls her closer to him and lets out another soft moan, feeling her bare body mold and conform against his. 

Kazutora’s eyes go wide as he realizes that she is making this quite intense. At the feeling of her hands going into his underwear, his breathing begins to quicken and his body tenses up as he feels his desires go out of control.

He slowly pulls her up just a bit, just enough to touch his aching tip to her entrance.

“Only if I get to do it first…” He whispered, finally feeling all of her in one swift movement. [ Y / N ]’s hands rushed to his long hair to tug on them, discerning Kazutora’s body as they connected for the first time. 

Kazutora feels [ Y / N ]’s lips on his, as gently pressing into his again and again, in sync with her rocking hips. Her kisses and thrusts send a wave of pleasure through his body, making him moan softly and unable to control his desires.

Kazutora wanted to cum right then and there, but he knew he wanted to make this last for her. “Ugh, I love this.” He shuddered, body jolting slightly as she pulsed around his cock. She rocked down on him, purposely letting her hear his desperate whines. Kazutora clutched her ass tightly, her pussy touching his base and breathing heavily as he hit deeper.

[ Y / N ] rocked her hips back and forth, enjoying the sensation of the stretch by his thick cock. Within seconds, his pace starts to grow wild, drilling into her pussy, their hips now clashing together. He was finally getting some action after using his sole imagination in so long.

Gripping both of his shoulders tightly, she began to bounce harder on his cock, the ginger radiance of the fireplace shining on her face which made it heightened the experience for Kazutora. “You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted so badly…” He whispered right next to her ear.

“I love getting to know you like this…” Her cheeks flushed warm. “I wanna cum…” He sighed and planted his hands back on her hips, his thrusts growing more desperate. “I wanna help you with that.” She moaned softly before speeding up her own pace. “What a good girl, showing me those cute tits bounce while you fuck yourself on my dick.” He grunted, bleached hair sticking to his forehead as they continued to fuck each other.

“Ah, Hanemiya-sama~” The explosive sensation ricochets through her body, making him feel her warm cum gushing down his balls just as he spilled into her pussy. He pulls out and you breathlessly collapse on his chest, feeling the light afterglow from the intense moment.

His eyes softened as he watched you snuggle up to him breathlessly. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and he knew that he was going to remember this moment forever. He closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of her body against his, and he knew that he was exactly where he was meant to be.

[extraordinarilyextreme]

my full author's notes for 岁月不待人 | the moon and the tides, you and i because (for the first time) i ran out of space on ao3 😭

Zhuge Qing, as a Qimen sorcerer (奇门术士), is interested in both his own bagua (八卦; the Eight Trigrams) and others’ (slang for “gossip”)

unless i simply missed it, the live-action doesn’t really explain why Zhang Chulan’s nickname is a-Lian (阿莲; “lotus”). it’s because he was so shameless during the tournament that people cussed him out for “not having any fucking face” (不要逼脸), which then became a pun/homophone:  不摇碧莲 (lit. “the unshakeable jade lotus”)

the meme that Zhuge Qing sends Feng Baobao is the 不要靠近---，会变得不幸 joke

i really wanted to explore Zhuge Qing and Zhang Lingyu’s friendship more lol. they’re the first to size each other up, yet they don’t really seem to interact after the tournament??? 

“That I like him is not false” (“我喜欢他不假。”) is a line Zhuge Qing says in manhua chapter 309 about Wang Ye. it was cut from the donghua

A heart that cradles everything beneath the heavens (心怀天下)

a very famous scene (名场面) during the end of the Biyou Village arc is when Wang Ye beats up Zhuge Qing (王也踏青图 LOL)

Zhuge Qing is the star fated to oppose Wang Ye (克星; lit. “star that restrains,” “star that subdues”). my use of “oppose” is meant to callback to all the times they stand facing each other within their Qimen arrays

“It’s been many days since we last saw each other; you’ve lost weight.” (“多日未见，你瘦了。”）

“Happy end-of-filming.” (“杀青快乐。”; lit. can be understood as “Happy killing/murder of Qing”) which is why Zhuge Qing jokes that it’s inauspicious

the Tying-a-Red-String Squad (牵红线小分队) is a rather literal translation, but i liked the imagery. it’s really more like the Matchmaking Squad or the Wingmen Squad

in the source material, Wang Ye (26 yo) is 182cm, whereas Zhuge Qing (25 yo) is 180cm. this is a live-action set-up though, so i’m pleased to inform everyone that Hou Minghao is 178cm and Wanyan Luorong is 188cm. 你看着身高差，很难不嗑

the black coat, blue scarf, gloves, and boots outfit that Wang Ye wears is a reference to this douyin of Hou Minghao’s, which is in turn a reference to a sequence in the donghua’s season 3 opening

Hou Minghao has almond-shaped eyes (杏眼) <3

“Like the perfect blooming flowers and the round full moon, may the ones you care about be at peace for ages to come” (花好月圆人长久) is fairly common Mid-Autumn Festival phrase. 花好月圆 in particular is also related with conjugal bliss and can be used as congratulations for someone’s marriage

similarly, “The most beautiful landscape that can be described with words: the wind and moon that are without boundary; I wish you a joyful festival” (风月无边，佳节愉快) is often used for the Mid-Autumn Festival. 风月无边 comes from this poem and can also allude to the romantic affairs between people～

drifting clouds and wild storks (闲云野鹤) is an idiom: free and unrestrained, aloof from worldly concerns. i think it suits Wang Ye very well, as someone who is always searching for peace but will never be able to attain it

“it is for me that your mortal heart beats” (你是为我动的凡心). another translation that i ended up scrapping was “it is for me that you developed mortal desires.”

“actor” (艺人) and “Outsider” (异人) sound the same; hence, Wang Ye was making a really shitty pun. rui offered a better translation: “I may not be in a film cast, but I am an Outcast.” 

a dragonfly kissing the surface of a pond (蜻蜓点水)

Hou Minghao and Wanyan Luorong do both have freckles on their eyelids!!

i owe rui my LIFE for helping me come up with Xiao Hao’s (肖豪) name. 豪 can refer to “a person of extraordinary powers,” so i thought it fitting for the setting. his name is also supposed to be a pun for 消耗 (“to consume,” “to use up”), because he was wasting Wang Ye’s time

QingYe’s conversation about platinum-colored hair is reference to Hou Minghao’s birthday photoshoot. platinum (白金) can be broken down into “white” and “gold,” which is why Wang Ye asks if Zhuge Qing is saying “you’ll be with me till our hair turns white” (白头偕老; to remain happily married till a ripe old age)

Zhuge Qing teases Wang Ye by using 嫁 (“to be taken as someone’s wife”; “to marry” [women-only]) rather than 娶 (“to take someone as wife”; “to marry” [men-only]). of course, Wang Ye points out he’s a whole-ass man (老爷们儿)

“Face this world with sincerity, and so shall you obtain a sincere character. When you can face this world with calmness always, then so shall you achieve peace and tranquility forever.” (真常应物，真常得性；常应常静，常清静矣。) is the Sutra of Everlasting Peace (清静经) that Wang Ye recites in episode 15 of the live-action

“Cultivation doesn’t happen in the past. It happens now.” (修行不在过去，在现在) comes from Zhang Chulan’s closing monologue in episode 27 of the live-action. Cultivation, of course, is another word for life

“The amount of good cabbage you’ve ruined makes you no less than a pig” references 好白菜都让猪给拱了, which can mean that “a pure/good[-looking] person has been spoiled by someone scummy.” 拱 has sexual undertones lol

peach blossoms represent [romantic] love～

[lgcmanager]

TEAM UNKNOWN 002

SCHEDULE TYPE: TRIMESTER ( PART 1 OUT OF 2 ) SCHEDULE RESTRICTIONS: cannot be paired with another trimester schedule, unless stated otherwise. for reference as to whether your muse is eligible for this event, please click over HERE.

early morning on JULY 3, KIM HYUNCHEOL is already waiting for the girls in the meeting room as they come in. unlike last time, the man seems a little tense as the girls take place. "good morning. first and foremost, let me formally introduce the newest and FIRST confirmed member of this iteration of LGC GIRLS JAPAN; PARK TAEHA." he waits for them all to greet the girl before continuing on.

"due to recent development in our debuted groups, TEAM UNKNOWN and LGC GIRLS JAPAN have been impacted and some changes have been made; as such, KIM YUJIN and  LIU YUXI, you have both been selected to join CRYSTALLIS. congratulations to you both on your continued hard worK. you may join SEO YEWON who is waiting outside." once again, he pauses as the two girls leave, wishing them good luck as they leave.

he turns towards YANG AERA: "AERA, your own debut has unfortunately been pushed back. do not see this as a defeat, but a chance to get experience and exposure before your upcoming debut. you will be replacing KIM YUJIN as the main vocalist in LGC GIRLS JAPAN, thus making you the SECOND confirmed member." the man waits for the trainee to acknowledge that she has understood before continuing on.

"lastly, SORI, AREUM and JAEKYUNG, you will also be part of LGC GIRLS JAPAN. the five of you should make up the final lineup, but who knows what the future holds."

LESSONS

"if you thought you were done with japanese lessons, unfortunately for you, you are not out of the woods just yet. during the months of JULY and AUGUST, on days without other schedules, in the MORNING, MONDAY to FRIDAY, you will ALL be receiving japanese lessons.

on SATURDAYS, you will all be receiving lessons solo or in groups of two. TAEHA, you will be given RAP lessons; JAEKYUNG and AERA, DANCE lessons; SORI and AREUM, SINGING lessons.

next, SORI, AREUM, JAEKYUNG and AERA,in the AFTERNOON, from MONDAY to FRIDAY, on days without other schedules, you'll be joining the other trainees in their lesson (see the regular trainee mission for more information on what they will be doing).

finally, TAEHA, during these afternoons, you will be receiving further private lessons to learn choreographies from legacy's japanese songs repertoire. since the others have already learned these, you may ask for their assistance."

WEEK 1 [ JULY 3 ]: GIRLS GOTTA LIVE (lgc girls japan)

WEEK 2 [ JULY 10 ]: CRIMSON DRESS (lgc girls japan)

WEEK 3 [ JULY 17 ]: CANDY (blazing)

WEEK 4 [ JULY 24 ]: WILDSIDE (blazing)

WEEK 5 [ JULY 31 ]: BREAKTHROUGH (lgc girls japan)

WEEK 6 [ AUGUST 7 ]: DANCE WITH ME NOW (blazing)

LGC CHARMS JAPAN

"back when the first lineup of LGC GIRLS JAPAN was active, they had an 8 episode variety show called ‘LGC GIRLS CHARMS JAPAN’ on tv. this is quite the norm for japanese idol groups to have a permanent show on tv. we've managed to secure a new season of the show. but, there's a twist; since the show has been inactive for a while, the company has decided to capitalize on this. the show has been renamed LGC CHARMS JAPAN, and this season will have AGITO challenging to become the PERMANENT group on the show. the five of you will have to compete against your seniors to keep the show in the hands of LGC GIRLS JAPAN!"

each episode will be 20 minutes long and the comedian duo, NON STYLE, will act as hosts of the show, being in charge of deciding the winning team for most games. while the filming date are specified, airing dates are to be announced:

EPISODES 1 & 2 [ JULY 17 ]: show introduction, competition explained to the participants. mini-profile of all 9 participants and personal talent display contest  (winning team: lgc girls)

EPISODES 3 & 4 [ JULY 24 ]: iconic japanese idol songs battle. the contestants hear short snippets of each song and must guess the title and artist of the song and then sing it. song examples; love machine by morning musume, heavy rotation by akb48, ponponpon by kyari pamyu pamyu, mayonaka no door by miki mutsubura, sakura by ikimonogakari, choo choo train by exile, love rainbow by arashi (winning team: lgc girls)

EPISODES 5-6 [ JULY 31 ]: spicy eating competition. each group is presented with SUKIYAKI; enough for four for agito, and five for lgc girls japan. however, the broth has been spiced up to level 7. one by one, each member will have to eat as much as they can from the hot pot to be the team with the least food left after they've all eaten once. each person is only allowed one glass of milk. (winning team: agito)

EPISODES 6-7 [ AUGUST 7 ]: team spirit battle. on a real life game board, the teams throw giant dice to be the first to reach the end. however, on each square is a team challenge to accomplish. Challenge examples; eat lemons, do a positon challenge (like a pyramid), say corny phrases at the camera (winning team: agito)

EPISODE 8 [ AUGUST 14 ]: best moments recap and last chance to sway the vote of the hosts one way or another by shamelessly and brazenly appealing to them and explaining why their group deserves the show the most. season winner is announced to be LGC GIRLS JAPAN.

REQUIREMENTS

CHARMS JAPAN: write a 4 replies (minimum 8 lines) with another participant about anything happening while the cameras are rolling or behind the scenes on the set. completing this will earn you +2 FREE SKILL POINTS, +2 VARIETY, +2 JAPANESE and +5 NOTORIETY TO DISTRIBUTE ANYWHERE ! ** can be done twice **

SATURDAY LESSONS: write a 300+ word solo or a 4 replies (minimum 8 lines) with the other person taking lessons with you, about these lessons and the skill worked on. completing this will earn you +10 POINTS IN THE SKILL WORKED ON !

make sure to use the hashtag lgc:tumission for all of the tasks. you have until AUGUST 12, 2023 at 11:59PM EDT to complete the requirements and validate your points. please submit the following form ONCE on the points blog:

MUSE NAME ∙ TEAM UNKNOWN MISSION 002 - TRAINING SESSIONS: +2 ( skill points distribution ), +2 variety, +2 japanese, +5 notoriety  [ LINK ] ** can be done twice ** - SATURDAY LESSONS: +10 ( skill worked on ) [ LINK ]

[readwing]

It has occurred to me that aside from off-handed tags, vague references, and the occasional poll result that I don’t really share-share stuff about me online.

So allow me to break that streak for a moment to gush about my job:

I am, without being too specific, a Fancy Data Accountant. Let me explain.

I am not a CPA and I did not go to school for this, but I did take a variety of loosely related classes when I was in college. These classes + the slow grind of being An Employee During the Recession + a general thirst for knowledge + good organizational skills = a solid understanding of business fundamentals and a willingness to learn Accounts Receivable (A/R) and Accounts Payable (A/P) without fucking it up.

If any of you younguns don’t know - A/R and A/P are positions that are always in desperate need of smart people willing to learn. If you add to this even a basic knowledge of General Ledger accounting then congratulations you are 95% more competent than most of the people currently doing that job. The reason for this being that for small businesses, it’s usually a filler job. It’s usually passed on to like, whoever seems to have the most time leftover to do it.

Receptionists and owner’s wives. Lots of times it’s those people. And lots of times, they do not want to being doing that job either.

And since accountants tend to want to actually make good money and pay off their degrees, they also do not want those jobs! They’re mostly decently paying jobs, higher than entry level for sure, but they’re not CPA-paying jobs.

So there ends up being a knowledge gap between the people who are inputting all the financial data and the actual accountants who really really would prefer it if the data was better organized. Accountant and Tax Prep people, in fact, tend to need this so much that they sometimes hire people to work for them internally who can help business owners pretty things up so the data is fucking usable.

Enter me.

So I bounce around for a bit doing my thing - which is Easy, it’s so Easy that the only challenge I get is coming into a Messed Up set of books and fixing it. But then at a certain point…they are fixed. So what now?

Well my what now was ‘you know, this business (that I was working for at the time) has a stupid amount of manual input data. Not only that, but the data that’s being input is only a fraction of what we could be using to analyze and make decisions, and that’s because the industry relies on third party software for its A/R but a completely different software for its A/P. Since the two don’t talk to each other, we’re stuck relying on truncated reports out of our A/R that are somehow both watered down and crowded with unnecessary noise. No bueno!’

So bored little me signed up for a free library class on coding. I’m kind of shit at it, but that’s okay because that was the first time in my life I actually understood what syntax was in programming.

By the end of the class what I realized was that while I was too lazy to ever properly code something, it didn’t matter. What I really needed to know was:

1) what raw data I had available from System A

2) what the simplest, bare minimum amount of functions / formulas I needed to manipulate that data-

3) -so that I could then package it and download it into System B, preferably with minimal typing!

So that’s what I did. That was my new challenge. When I had a free moment at work - and boy did I find lots of those - I would play around with my little spreadsheets and these clunky programs. There needed to be checks and balances, you see. Whatever the output numbers said had to equal the new input numbers, or the accounting would be off. If Karen down the hall accidentally fat-thumbed in a new product or department, I needed it to 1) not break the formulas, and 2) be easily identified as an anomaly. Whatever happened between export/import needed to be cleaned, checked, and verified for the integrity of both systems.

So that’s what I built. Between doing my job and browsing Reddit at work. I built this whole system that would take this very boring part of my job and make it easy.

And yeah the place I worked for sucked, and I had plenty of issues happening personally, but this I was good at!

And the results kind of made me look like a god, which is always nice. And it got me a raise.

The pay bump was almost worth the mind-numbing boredom of the variety of other tasks I usually had to do to get to the fun bit. Almost.

Then last year in a moment of fed-up-ness I applied for a slew of jobs. Just slinging rezzies into the void on Indeed like a pizza maker flinging ‘za. Mostly for the same positions, just with better perks and pay. I wasn’t hoping for much. One of them called me back. Scheduled an interview. Did the interview. The next morning I had a job offer.

Y’all. I lucked in so fucking hard.

Not only were their books a mess, not only were they running a separate A/R and A/P system PLUS ANOTHER TWO INDUSTRY-SPECIFIC SOFTWARES, but they were actually excited to hear my ideas on how to fix it.

(And they were fucking soluble as all get out, which was a first for me.)

They were so excited, in fact, that it’s gone from being maybe 15% of my job to being about 80-90% of my job to just slowly fix and maintain everything they’ve got going on. Why the investment on their side? Because they’re looking to enter a potential partnership with X-number of other companies, all of whom have messy books that I could potentially end up fixing. Also the company has just started to open up a new location. Also the main owners are looking to start X-number of ancillary companies spinning out of the current one. All of these companies, of course, will have slews of data that need analyzed, with multiple Point-of-Sales systems that need to talk to each other, and good gosh golly, they know just the kind of person who likes to do that kind of shit now don’t they?

Then there’s little old me, sitting at my computer with my chunky spreadsheets and my limited amount of Visual Basic, somehow producing goddamn magic. Because programmers don’t understand generally accepted accounting practices, and accountants care even less about best data practices and management.

I have somehow waded through mires of bad decisions and late stage capitalism to find myself an oasis. I feel like I have somehow tricked the people around me into paying me good money to let me have fun at work. This in spite of the fact that I know that no one can do or even wants my job. Even AI can’t touch me, because that would require the robot be capable of standing up and asking a room full of otherwise intelligent people ‘what the fuck is this? Why did you enter it this way. Yes, I know it was easier for you and yes it’s technically accurate but you are going to accidentally break the law if we leave it like this Kenneth’

I am a cog, yes; but I am a well-paid cog, who gets to learn and feel challenged and buy ridiculous toys for my cats and fund Patreons now. And books. And sushi. And paints. I even splurged on a gym membership.

And y’all - it’s nice. It’s really really nice. And I really hope it keeps going like this, ‘cause I’m really happy with how things are going.

[tobi-momo]

Your Cupid

a/n: hihihihihidihgl;df im finally posting again!! so sorry to take so long! also- im so so so sorry if this is bad i really wanted to post so i kninda rushed the end, and ik its long im so sorry😭 also i hope you find out soon in the fic and interpret yourself but just to let you know the title is referring to Oikawa, not Iwa.

Pairing(s): Iwaizumi Hajime x reader | Oikawa x reader (PLATONIC)

Genre: Slowburn!!! Romance, Fluff, Angst, Comfort

Warnings: Cursing, i think that's it?

Word Count: 4k

Synopsis: Being childhood best friends with Oikawa meant you weren't going to hear the end of it when it came to volleyball, when you finally agreed to become the Seijoh manager, he suddenly started to regret introducing you to his other best friend, Iwaizumi.

It wasn’t your choice, being here. You were forced to come, Tooru practically dragging you to the gym while you whine and complain, his cocky smile and fake charm trying it’s best to convince you to stop resisting. You barely know a thing about volleyball, even though always going to Tooru’s games and helping him practice when you were little, you never really caught the whole jist of the sport. He vowed to help you, to always be there when you have questions about it.

So with an elongated sigh, and a pinch to the bridge of your nose, you agree. You would become the manager of the Seijoh Volleyball Club.

~.~.~.~

The first practice you had attended consisted of balls flying, smacking aggressively on the ground; your eyes not being able to keep up with them, instead finding entertainment in the players instead. Tooru had introduced you to them, each of them holding their hand out for you to grab and shake gently before letting go and subtly wiping your hands on your uniform. He had mentioned another best friend, one that he had been trying so hard to get you to meet, wanting to complete his holy trinity. When you refused to go anywhere he would moan in defeat, collapsing on your bed while fake pouting and turning around to pretend that “y/n doesn’t love me anymore”. You would always just hit him with a pillow after that, resulting in an all out war. You had assumed the other guy refused as well, as Tooru never mentioned if his poor friend desired to meet you.

You guessed even after the ace met you for the first time the desire still never came up, his nonchalant nod and monotone greeting of his name showing proof of that, even before he turned around to walk away without a care in the world. He never took your hand, he never even looked at you; must have been too busy, throwing the ball in the air before running and leaping upwards, smacking the ball on the other side of the court, a loud grunt bleeding through his throat when he misses his target, running to and under the net to receive the ball. You watched him, pupils stuck on the way his body moved so flawlessly through the air, the way his rough, calloused hand hits the ball, making it mold around his palm and forcing it through the air without resistance, the loud slap that echoed throughout the gym when the ball made contact with the polished floors, the annoyed glare he made when the ball didn’t go where it was supposed to.

Snap. Snap. Snap.

“Y/nnnnnnn,” Tooru mewled, his fingers waving in front of your face, his fingers snapping together to grab your attention. His head turns, eyes widening dramatically when he finds what you were so distracted by.

Only regret ran through his mind at that moment.

~.~.~.~

You had attended most of Tooru’s games, but you had never really paid attention, as your eyes kept drifting towards the scoreboard and the clock, impatiently waiting for the final whistle to be blown. This game however, was different. Your attention was nailed to this game, your hair pulled back and your hands gripping the rotation sheet ever so tightly, your breath coming in hitches when the score rises, the atmosphere becoming so much more intense than you remember.

Awe was painted all over your face as you gaze at your best friend setting the ball so beautifully among the court, it flying towards the wing spiker just in time for him to strike it down on the other side of the net, gusts of wind following after- the hair of the libero on the other team fluffing up as they stare at the number four player. You watch him smirk in victory and his hands balling up in congratulating fists. The rest of his teammates whooped and cheered, patting him harshly on the back, a shared smile between him and Tooru before their knuckles joined in a tiny bump before returning to their sides.

Then, his eyes went to yours. The sweat dripping down his heated face and his heaving chest disappeared after you caught a glimpse of his green iris’. They were piercing; cutting into your brain and engraving themselves in your memory. How were you ever going to get them out of your mind?

You didn’t notice him walking towards you, his arms slightly swaying back and forth as he walked, his quiet footsteps picking up speed only a tad towards you. Then, as your mouth opens in an attempt to speak, the light of his green eyes floods your pupils when the words catch in your throat. “I- you were-”

“Y/n-chan! How’d you think of the game? Being so up close and personal like that has to make a difference from the stands, right?” Tooru’s voice bleeds straight into your hearing, interrupting your stutter. This was one thing you’d have to thank him for later.

~.~.~.~

“Wait, I’m confused, what’s that for?” You point to an arrow on your clipboard, looking up in confusion towards anyone who would listen. The captain was busy announcing whatever he wanted to the team, making them groan in annoyance and roll their eyes, Tooru only continuing with his story.

“What’s what for?” You heard from beside you, the low grumble of his voice seeping into your ears, making you jump backwards. The palms of his hands move to grip your arms firmly so as to not let you lose balance, his rough fingers wrapping around the flesh of your arm to pull you back up. He only stares, more of a glare, if you were being honest. He looked madly confused, or it may have been his resting bitch face, you don’t know. It wasn’t until you were back on your feet when you decided to speak up again, subtly avoiding eye contact by letting your eyes zip from random item to item, finding purchase on the metal clip of the plastic board you were holding.

“Uhm, I’m just confused about what play this is,” you say, your finger pointing towards the specific circle and arrow you were questioning. His head tilts downward, his eyebrows furrowing as he narrows in towards your problem, a hand on his chin.

“That’s a back row attack.”

“A what?” You question, looking up towards him for an explanation, only finding his eyes still stuck on the paper.

“A back row attack. It’s when a hitter from the back row jumps up towards the ten-foot line and hits the ball on the other side,” he abbreviates, a little hand gesture making its way through the air.

“Oh, really? How would that work? Why wouldn’t the setter just toss the ball to a front row player?” Volleyball gets more confusing everytime you think about it. He glimpsed up at you, took a short breath, then shifted his feet, like he was getting ready for a long conversation; you just stood there, waiting for him to explain a little bit more before taking a quick look around the gym, the cart of balls standing out to your line of vision. You hold a smirk, his head following your movements as you turn around to set the clipboard on the bench and walk towards the cart full of balls, picking one up and bouncing it on the floor.

A single eyebrow raises, but he still follows you to the court. “So, if I were to toss...to,” you put a finger on your chin, pondering, “back there,” you point to middle-back, taking a step towards the spot, “where would I be over here?”

He understood immediately, nodding his head as his legs made their way to you, scaling the court with narrow eyes once he halts beside you. “Well, depending on the play and the rotation, you could be anywhere on the court, so you could toss to them from pretty much any position.” His explanation sounded brief, vague. It was just enough for you to get the idea, though.

“Uh, go stand over there,” he urges, pointing to the middle back position. “Do you know how to hit a ball?” You look at him incredulously, feeling a little embarrassed to say you barely know how to do your approach.

“Not...really?” You compromise, shrugging as you backpedal to the back row position.

“Here,” he jogs up to you, handing you the ball, “take this and go to where I was just now.” You comply, heading over to that position, shifting the ball between your hands. “Give me one.”

“What?” You question him as he pulls his ankle back up towards his back, stretching his quad.

“Toss me one and watch me.” Oh.

You do as told, under-handingly tossing the ball up towards the ten foot line, studying his footwork. His form was perfect, you thought, his right foot leading his approach until he jumps into the air, practically flying flawlessly as his arm comes up behind him at a perfect angle to shoot the ball straight down one of the back corners.

The setter on the other side of the court could see the sparkle in your eyes, the glistening of awe in your face as you admire his best friend. He had a feeling you would like him once you met him, but not like this. The idea of you two suddenly being fond of each other ate away at him, like he was about to lose someone. Maybe two.

~.~.~.~

Away games were the worst. You hated sharing a small bus with smelly boys who don’t know a thing called “boundaries”. They hover over you, their arms flailing and their mouths running. You were annoyed, to say the least, trying to refrain from rolling your eyes at the boy's antics, crossing your arms to separate yourself from them. You didn’t even get the chance to sit next to Tooru, who got stuck on the inside of Kindaichi, messing around with Matsukawa and Makki.

You were uncoincidentally stuck with the captain’s best friend, Iwaizumi. You didn’t mind him of course, as he would put Tooru’s ego in place and tell everyone to shut up before you explode on them. You didn’t know if he noticed your irritation, your bugged eyes staring out the window, your head leaning against the glass. His head was also turned your way, you guessed to doze off to the moving trees outside, but you didn’t notice the way his eyes focused on your hair, subconsciously trying to count the strands while you look away, your eyelids drooping downwards ever so often.

Your dreary state was interrupted by a plastic water bottle being caught in the air, your nose coming face to face with a hand- the hand of the man sitting next to you, you infer.

“Guys, what the hell did I just say? Stop throwing shit around!” He yells towards his teammates, their playful demeanor turning pensive, their heads rotating away guiltily.

“Thanks,” you mutter, the words barely leaving your throat when he pulls away.

“No problem,” he dismisses, forcing himself to not glance up at you when he shoves the bottle in Makki’s hands.

“Hey- what the hell?” Makki whines.

“It’s yours, dumbass, take it.”

~.~.~.~

The red marker covering the white page gawked at you, showing you how you weren’t good enough for anything better. You couldn’t look at it any longer, the bottom lip of your frown quivering before you bring the inside of your elbow up to your mouth, muffling your sniffles and absorbing the steamy tears that scurry down your raw cheeks. You were better than this, what the hell is wrong with you?

Hiding in the storage closet wasn’t a good idea, The initial plan was clever, sneaking in there to calm yourself down before practice, needing to keep an optimistic mindset. That plan was ruined as soon as you broke down though, slow, and quiet but clear footsteps closing in on the door, like they were leaning their ear in to listen. Your mind hadn’t kept up with the time, as you hiccupped and sobbed even after the door was opened and light shined through the dark.

“Y/n?” You whipped your head away, refusing to look at them as you deal with your mortification. They scoot in, shutting the door until only a little line of light cracked through. “Y/n, what happened?” They sat next to you, closely you may add, dipping their head down to try and see your face. You avoid them, trying your hardest not to cry in front of them. “Don’t turn away from me, look at me,” they hush, placing their fingertips on your forearms, gently pulling them towards their direction, your head hanging down as your arms are removed from your mouth. “Look at me.”

You sniffle with exhaustion as you drag your head up, finally letting them inspect your glassy eyes, tears continuing to run down without fail. They had felt the hot liquid stream down their thumb as they wiped it away from your face, caressing your cheek as you fret.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You shake your head.

“Do you want my help?”

You nod. And you don’t move away when you find the vice captain’s hand reaching behind your head to cradle it as you whimper in his shoulder.

~.~.~.~

Study sessions with Iwaizumi became a regular thing. Whether it was him coming to your house and staying for dinner, or it was you falling asleep on his desk, you two never stopped doing it. Even after your grades went back up, the red marker leaving your memory almost completely when you get your new tests back. He gave you a look of approval, nodding his head a single time to show his acknowledgement. He wasn’t surprised when you came up to him and tugged him into a tight embrace, his large hands coming to hold your figure like second nature. He was used to this, your excited hugs and your bursts of energy and your lack of an attention span and your bright and sunny nature. It was funny to him how much other people burn you out, like a dying fire that needs more gasoline.

The second your body hit his, a breath slipped out, creating a little chuckle that filled your ears, the cozy warmth of his chest slightly leaning into you.

“Finally! I finally did it. Proud ‘a me?” You smirk at him, feeling a little full of yourself at the moment.

“Sure, sure, yeah,” he replies, slowly shoving your body off his, your feet stumbling as you let go of him, struggling to find balance. The hands wrapped around your arms keep you firmly planted on the ground, gently letting go the moment you stop moving around. They dive straight into his pockets, his head lifting to see your cheery expression. “You did good.”

You only smile in response, opening your mouth before a hand was planted on your shoulder.

“Y/n-chan! How’d you do? I heard trusty Iwa-chan helped you study!”

“Shut up, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi grumbles.

“I did really well, thanks to trusty Iwa-chan,” you emphasize, a glare shooting your way once the sound of your voice finds Iwaizumi’s ears. He didn’t like that. Tooru giggled, his hand half-covering his mouth to ‘try’ and stifle his laugh.

“Well, I did amazing too, in case you guys wanted to know.” A cocky grin made its way through Tooru’s face.

“We didn’t.”

“That’s awesome, Tooru!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m amazing.”

“Shut up, Crappykawa,” you and Iwa both chant in unison.

“Aw, c’mon, you guys!”

~.~.~.~

“I have to admit something, Y/n,” Tooru blurts in your room while he sits on your bed, his head hanging low while his fingers trace the thread patterns of your blanket. You spin your chair to face him, the atmosphere brought down when you see his quiet expression. Oikawa Tooru was never quiet.

“I thought letting you two meet was a good idea, I wanted us to be the power trio,” he strained a chuckle. “I just didn’t know that you two would become more than friends.” Your eyes expand, your breath immediately slowed and your movements coming to a full stop.

‘What do you mean by that, Tooru?”

“You know what I mean,” he waves you off dismissively. “I see the way you look at him, Y/n. I see the way he looks at you. I’m like the biggest third wheel in the world.”

You were confused, shocked. Was what was coming out of his mouth true? Did you really have different feelings about him than anyone else? Did he have them for you?

“I was mad, at first.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Like, really mad. I didn’t want you guys to have all that lovey-dovey stuff together when I’m right here, you know,” he gestures to himself; your head tilts in understanding, nodding. “I guess you could say I was jealous. It just irked me that you two never wanted to meet and then when you do you immediately fall head over heels for each other, completely ignoring the fact that I was the one to bring you two together.” He didn’t feel left out, like he did before, though. He had watched you two for a while, realizing that you two need him just as much as he needs you and you two need each other. He felt as if this was really who he belonged with. You guys.

You just stared at him, the cogs in your brain trying their best to process his words, your fingers coming together into a fidget. Your wide eyes landed on his, and although his pupils were nailed to the bed, you could see the sadness that didn’t belong. His eyebrows were furrowed in a way that made him look like he was worried, regretful, yet his lips stayed thinned together as his hair dangled in front of him. You could tell he was trying really hard to say this. Even if it was The Oikawa Tooru, he wasn’t invincible.

You try to recall all the times you’ve met with Iwaizumi, all the conversations you had, all the tiny contact you made when your fingers had mistaken each other’s arm or fingers for the textbook, all the times he caught your lingering gaze, but refused to let it go, the times he caught up with you after practice, slightly jogging towards you and stopping once he reaches the same spot as you- you naturally having to speed up every once in a while as his legs were much longer than yours.

“You’re right,” you mumble, your words coming out slow and smooth, your eyes focusing back on him from the blurry space you just dropped yourself in. His eyes have a double-take on your face, moving back and forth from the blanket to your face of realization. “I do like him more than a friend. And it’s because of you.” His back stretches upwards, sitting up straight. “So, thank you, Tooru.” It was now his turn to be utterly stunned- thank...you? “I’m glad you convinced me to join the volleyball club, to meet Iwaizumi, to allow us to have these experiences together, thank you.”

What could he say? “Your welcome”? It seemed unfit for the situation, he figured. So instead of plastering on a confident smirk and showing his “Great King”, he exhales deeply, looking straight into the holes in your eyes. “Just don’t break his heart, yeah?”

You nod in assurance, returning a determined eye. “I can do that.”

~.~.~.~

The next few weeks passed slowly, like the clock gave an extra two minutes with every second that went by. You had barely seen him, as he walked away from you every time he noticed your presence. He refused to look at you, the back of his head being the only thing to face you during practice. Why was he avoiding you?

“Iwa.” He doesn’t look up at you from putting a ball back in the cart, shutting his eyes before turning around. He stops when your hand grasps his arm, pulling him into a stop. He tugs his arm back, your grip hardening on his flesh, your sharp glare not letting him leave. “Iwaizumi.”

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose while screwing his eyes shut. “What.”

“Why have you been avoiding me?” You bring your hand up in the air with question.

“Why have I been what?”

“You heard me. Now answer me.” Your tone was strict, firm. It annoyed the hell out of him that it made him want to confess.

“I haven’t been doing shit. Stop following me like a lost puppy,” he growls, side eyeing you.

“Excuse me?” Your head bucks back, surprised. With one last tug, his arm is out of your reach as he walks away with his dark demeanor.

Then, he was gone.

~.~.~.~

You had spent a couple days thinking about it. How the conversations were so short, how he just completely dismissed you. Tooru watched you two go back and forth between bickering, you usually being the one to start the conversation before he tells you to fuck off. He was curious as well. You mean, that’s what you assumed from the conversation they were having in the gym before practice, ceasing your stroll when you hear their voices echo throughout the room, your body hiding behind the door so they wouldn’t notice.

“Iwa-chan, we talked about this, she just wants to be your friend, stop being so mean to her!”

“Whatever.”

“Iwaizumi, I’m serious. Stop being so cold to her,” the captain’s voice changes, his playful attitude gone in a swift motion, replaced with a scowl when Iwaizumi’s wide eyes find him. “What did she do to make you like this, huh? Such a meanie, Iwa-chan.”

“I’m not,” the number four defends, looking Oikawa up and down before taking a step back.

“Oh, I think you are,” he taunts, “you too were getting along so beautifully, it looked like. What happened? Scared?” He smirks.

“Of what?” Iwa’s eyes twitched, his face flushed.

“Of her not liking you back.”

The ace stammers, his mouth not knowing what words to spit out as he looks his best friend in the face.

He was serious, wasn’t he.

Iwa stood there, gaping at Oikawa’s satisfied expression while stumbling on his words, trying to find the best one to respond with. But he couldn’t. There was nothing he could say at this moment that would change the way Oikawa thinks, because Iwa knows he’s right. He knows.

~.~.~.~

You were frozen in place, your heart seemed to stop working, you couldn’t tell. Your nerves had stuttered a couple times- you weren’t sure you were even alive at this point. The hand that placed itself on your mouth had fallen to your side, leaving your silent gasps less silent now. Thankfully, they hadn’t heard you, but once you rushed inside with purpose and resolution, the gym door slamming shut, their heads had whipped your way.

“You’re telling me you liked me this whole time?!” You shout to him, walking closer and closer until you arrive right in front of him. His eyes stayed glued to you, confusion stirring back and forth throughout his whole system. He was scared. “Is that why you’ve been a dick to me?”

“I didn’t-”

“Now, now, Iwa-chan, let her talk.”

“Tooru,” you lour, “stop talking.”

“I’ve liked you since I saw that jump serve you did at my first practice, and you’re telling me that you like me too? Even though you’ve been avoiding me and pushing me away and telling me to leave you alone and-”

“You what?”

“What? I like you? Yes! I do! Now can you finally stop acting like an asshole?”

Silence.

“Uh…”

“He means yes, Y/n,” Tooru cuts in while patting the vice captain on the shoulder, laughing it off.

You take a deep breath, running a hand through your hair as you sigh. “Okay,” you exhale, “well, then...are we? Do you-”

“Mhm! He would love to,” Oikawa answers again.

You look at Tooru once more, biting your lip to hide your smile before nodding once towards him.

Thank you, Tooru.

im so sorry for this mess oh my god

general taglist: @combat-wombatus @toosharkinternet @alpha3113 @flattykawadoorusmilkbread @solar3lunar @hitosushi @zerohawks @katsuhera @awmahleebkg @thisnoodlewritesao3 @realcube @f0leysgurl

haikyuu taglist: @pies-writes-and-more @luvrboykento

REQUESTS: OPEN

[robininthelabyrinth]

extra 3 for Tedious Joys

A/N: For all the anons who begged for the AU in which Lao Nie's stupid idea from extra 2 about a happy WRH/Lao Nie/LQR ever after actually works out, with specific shout outs to the ones who suggested (1) WRH as a bastard cat, (2) possessiveness, (3) erotic reading, and (4) that I couldn’t write WRH being anything but thoroughly awful, because so there.

A/N: warning for adult content

-

“Congratulations to you both,” Lan Qiren said, looking between Lao Nie and Wen Ruohan with what he was certain was an expression of utmost bemusement. “I don’t see why your decision to enter into a formal relationship merits a private announcement to me personally.”

“Formal relationship?” Wen Ruohan echoed.

“He means that we’re actually calling it a relationship instead of just skulking around in each other’s beds,” Lao Nie explained briefly, then turned back to Lan Qiren. “We’re telling you because you’re a critical part of it.”

Lan Qiren blinked.

“If I am to enter into a – formal relationship with Lao Nie,” Wen Ruohan said, his sneer expressing his thoughts on the matter of Lan Qiren’s wording choices, “he has made it clear that engaging with you is necessary.”

“Engaging with me,” Lan Qiren said.

“As an equal partner,” Lao Nie said, nodding.

“With…me.”

“Yes.”

Lan Qiren rubbed his eyes. “Lao Nie,” he said. “If I didn’t know better, this would sound a great deal like a husband introducing his first wife to his second.”

“Equal partner,” Lao Nie said, as if that was the problem. “It isn’t a marriage, so there’s no need to rank –”

“Lao Nie, we’re not married.”

“Aren’t you?” Wen Ruohan said, and Lan Qiren gaped at him. “Once you put aside the question of sex, which I’m given to understand you’re squeamish about.”

“I’m given to understand that that is a rather critical aspect in a marriage,” Lan Qiren said archly, ignoring Lao Nie’s mutter of it’s not squeamishness, he just doesn’t like it. “At any rate, I do not live with him, I do not bear him children –”

“You support him, you understand him, you are irrevocably associated,” Wen Ruohan said impatiently. “Of all other people, he would pick you first, and you him. You can use the term ‘sworn brothers’ if you prefer, but you must admit that your – formalized relationship with Lao Nie goes well beyond the usual intimacy of mere friendship.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Lan Qiren said, although on second thought he thought that perhaps it might be true. He had loved Cangse Sanren dearly, but it was very, very different from how he felt for Lao Nie.

Wen Ruohan snorted. “This is your problem,” he told Lao Nie.

“Our problem now,” Lao Nie said peaceably. “Qiren, I have no expectation of the two of us entering into a sexual relationship –”

Lan Qiren nodded, having not expected anything like that.

“Nor do I expect you to enter into a sexual relationship with Hanhan –”

Good.

“But I would appreciate it if you made an effort to get along a little better, at least for my sake. I care very deeply for both of you and would like to have you both in my life. At once. Without murder.”

Lan Qiren eyed Wen Ruohan, who eyed him right back.

“Well,” Lan Qiren said after a while. “I suppose?”

After all, it wasn’t as if he wasn’t already sharing Lao Nie’s time with him. This would simply be a further extension of that.

Nothing more.

-

“If it makes you uncomfortable –”

“I’ve already made clear that I don’t mind you two having sex while I’m in the room,” Lan Qiren said impatiently. “As long as I am not personally involved, it doesn’t bother me in the slightest.”

“See,” Wen Ruohan said. “It doesn’t bother him in the slightest.”

Lan Qiren ignored him. He’d found that that was the easiest way to deal with Wen Ruohan when he was in a mood – not entirely unlike the way he dealt with some of his more troublesome students, in fact.

“What if you’re the subject of conversation?” Lao Nie persisted.

“Conversation?” Lan Qiren said, frowning. “Do you often converse while – uh –”

Wen Ruohan sniggered. “Yes,” he said. “Quite a great deal. We can be quite noisy, even.”

“I can assure you I’m already aware of that,” Lan Qiren informed him, long-suffering. Wooden walls, even with insulation, were simply insufficient.

“We’re getting away from the main point here,” Lao Nie said.

“The main point being that you wish to involve me in your sexual antics, but from a distance?”

“…basically.”

“Antics,” Wen Ruohan said, looking pained. “We’re not twelve. Sect Leader Lan, can we not agree to simply say that we wish to objectify and sexualize you as part of our relationship, but that your personal participation is not required?”

“If we wish to be pretentious about it, we can,” Lan Qiren said, and Wen Ruohan blinked as if surprised that Lan Qiren had the capacity for even such a mild rebuke. “Yes, go ahead. It’s fine, I’m used to it.”

Now they were both blinking at him.

“Being objectified,” he clarified. “Even with being lusted over, fantasized about within my hearing, that sort of thing. It’s quite common, you know.”

“It…is?” Wen Ruohan said. He had now started blinking rather rapidly. “You often allow people to have sexual thoughts and conversations about you, then?”

“Oh, every day.”

“Every…day?”

“My students,” Lan Qiren explained with a faint sigh. “The majority of them prefer to imagine me as far away from being sexualized as possible, which I appreciate, but quite a few of them go so far as to end up on the other end – and of course they’re at that age when their thoughts tend to dwell on all matters connected with sex.”

“Oh,” Lao Nie said. “Your students.”

“That makes a great deal more sense,” Wen Ruohan said, nodding.

“What did you think I meant?” Lan Qiren asked, frowning at them both. “I’ll have you know that they are exceedingly indiscreet about it – in terms of conversation, or the notes they include in their books, or even in offers –”

“You’ve gotten offers?”

“Too many. I’ve refused, of course.”

“Poor children, I can’t blame them for trying,” Lao Nie mused. “You’re very commanding when you take charge of a classroom.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Wen Ruohan remarked. “Listening to Sect Leader Lan ramble on does not strike me as the most inspiring set of circumstances.”

“That’s what I’ve always thought!” Lan Qiren said. “It was always a surprise. I’m well aware that I tend towards toneless monotony – yet apparently there are people who find that attractive.”

“I would,” Lao Nie said at once, because of course he would. He’d find just about anything attractive, as long as it had the capacity to end his life…though what that said about his views of Lan Qiren’s lectures, Lan Qiren wasn’t sure. “I’d be very happy to get off to you reading out one of your lectures.”

“You are not tainting my lectures with your deviance,” Lan Qiren informed him. “I’m happy to read any spring book you like, but leave my lectures out of it.”

They were both staring at him again.

“What?” he said, suspicious.

“Would you really?” Wen Ruohan asked, leaning forward. His gaze was suddenly very intent, in a way that resembled the way he usually looked at Lao Nie. “Read us a spring book?”

Lan Qiren blinked. “If you like? I warn you, it’ll be in the same tone I do all my other readings.”

“That’s fine,” Lao Nie said. He, too, looked oddly intent. “Very good, even.”

“Very good,” Wen Ruohan agreed effusively.

“…very well then,” Lan Qiren said, now completely lost. “Go fetch one, then.”

He’d never understood what people saw in sex, and he was starting to think he never would.

Especially if they were all this ridiculous.

-

“You don’t actually need to keep me company just because Lao Nie told you to,” Lan Qiren said to Wen Ruohan, who was sitting across from him and refusing to leave.

“No, he won the bet fair and square,” Wen Ruohan said, looking sulky. “While this is not exactly the promise I had hoped he would extract, I will comply with his wishes to the letter.”

Wen Ruohan had probably been hoping for a kinky sex game, Lan Qiren reflected. It was a pity that the threat against Lan Qiren had come in so soon before their bet had been resolved – and that they had not yet identified who it was that had sent the threat, nor how serious it was – and Lao Nie was for some reason convinced that there were internal threats within the Cloud Recesses that needed to be guarded against.

Thus the request.

“Then I suggest you find a way to entertain yourself,” Lan Qiren finally said, looking down at the papers at his desk. He really did need to finish reviewing them all, and he had wasted enough time attempting to play host to a recalcitrant guest who didn’t want to be appeased. “I can order more tea, if you’d like…”

“No, no,” Wen Ruohan said. “I can entertain myself just fine.”

Lan Qiren was unfortunately familiar with that tone of voice, and was therefore unsurprised when Wen Ruohan began to undo his robes, albeit just enough to pull out his cock.

Personally, Lan Qiren would not find public masturbation with gratuitous leering to be entertaining, but then again, he wasn’t Wen Ruohan.

He peacefully did his work for a while, ignoring the sound of self-pleasure from a few feet away, but after a while – and it was taking a while, presumably because Wen Ruohan kept getting distracted by his irritation with Lao Nie – he couldn’t help but glance over.

He frowned.

“You’re doing it wrong,” he said.

Wen Ruohan’s hand stopped. “Excuse me,” he said. “What did you say?”

“You’re doing it wrong,” Lan Qiren repeated.

Wen Ruohan gaped at him. “Are you – you – attempting to instruct me in how to – this?”

Lan Qiren rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, and Wen Ruohan’s shoulders relaxed – sanity and order returning to the world, no doubt. “I’m referring to your cultivation. You don’t have to share details, but you do use a yang-oriented cultivation method, do you not?”

“I do.”

“You have a small blockage in the meridian next to your neck,” Lan Qiren said. “It’s slowing it down. You should release it.”

Wen Ruohan concentrated, then frowned. “I sense no such blockage.”

“It’s only apparent when you’re flushing your meridians with yang energy,” Lan Qiren said. “Do both at the same time.”

Wen Ruohan scowled at him. “That’s easier said than done.”

Lan Qiren shrugged and put his papers down, standing up. “In that case, I will assist.”

Wen Ruohan’s eyes bulged slightly.

Lan Qiren walked over and settled down behind him. “Carry on, then,” he said.

“Assist with releasing the blockage,” Wen Ruohan said. “Right. Yes. That makes – more sense.”

And then he did carry on, because he was shameless like that.

Lan Qiren waited until he could see the blockage again, and then put his hands on Wen Ruohan’s shoulders.

Wen Ruohan flinched, and the energy dissipated.

Lan Qiren heaved a sigh. “Really?” he said, disapproving. “Is this the best you can do? Sect Leader Wen, please. You are a famous cultivator, far more powerful than me – I would expect your concentration to be better than this.”

“Right,” Wen Ruohan said. His voice was strangely hoarse. He started moving his hand again. “Well, I wouldn’t want to disappoint you, Sect Leader Lan.”

Lan Qiren huffed, and noted that Wen Ruohan shivered. Perhaps he was sitting too close, and his breath had hit the back of Wen Ruohan’s neck, exposed as he curled forward over himself. “My request from you isn’t exactly difficult,” he said, a touch of asperity in his voice. “I’m certain you’ve done it many times before, and will many times again. If you can’t even perform such a straightforward task –”

Ah, there it was.

He put two fingers against the blocked meridian and firmly pressed, wielding his not inconsiderable arm strength against the tough skin Wen Ruohan had cultivated over the years.

Wen Ruohan made a choked noise.

The blockage released, the latent tension in the muscles releasing with it, and Wen Ruohan shuddered all over – presumably the yang energy that had been knotted up in there had also released, flooding through his meridians.

“Well done,” Lan Qiren said, inspecting his work. “The flow of energy is much smoother now. You should notice an immediate improvement in both temperament and swordplay.”

Wen Ruohan huffed and sat up straight again, starting to straighten his clothing. Apparently he’d finished the self-pleasure portion of the evening as well.

“I’m much obliged to you for your guidance, Teacher Lan,” he said, and it was Lan Qiren’s turn to blink, surprised – Wen Ruohan had never used that term of address for him before. “I look forward to attending your classes with you tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to,” Lan Qiren told him, although he used the opportunity to rise to his feet and return to his desk, intent on finishing his review. “There’s hardly any danger from my students.”

“No, no,” Wen Ruohan said. “I’m interested to see you – in your element, so to speak. I was perhaps too hasty in disregarding Lao Nie’s exhortations regarding the quality of your pedagogical skills.”

“Very well,” Lan Qiren said, a little suspicious. “You understand, of course, that you would not be permitted to…?”

“Around children? I assure you that that is not one of my proclivities.”

“Good,” Lan Qiren said, even though he was well aware that Wen Ruohan’s particular character was such that the fact that something was not within his so-called proclivities would in no way stop him if he thought he could get some benefit out of it. “Very well, then. If you insist –”

“I do,” Wen Ruohan said firmly. “I promised Lao Nie, did I not? I intend to keep my promise in the spirit in which it was requested.”

Lan Qiren sighed. This would probably end up only distracting his students more…hmm. Unless he used it to his advantage.

“Would you be willing to demonstrate some array techniques?” he asked. “I know they’re your area of expertise, and there are certain philosophical points I wish to convey to my students that may be more easily expressed with a visual demonstration.”

Wen Ruohan rolled his eyes, but it seemed to lack the usual sense of malice.

“You may use me as you wish, Teacher,” he said with a smirk. “I am at your service.”

-

“Is there anything you actually like?” Lan Qiren asked Wen Ruohan, aware that his tone was coming across as tetchy and irritable and wholly unable to stop it.

Wen Ruohan arched his eyebrows at him.

“Other than myself and Lao Nie, and definitely not sex,” Lan Qiren qualified. “Your birthday is coming up, and I’m having difficulty thinking of an appropriate present.”

“My – birthday?” Wen Ruohan asked, and then started smiling in amusement. “You can just get me whatever gift your sect has picked out for the event. I’m certain someone has already selected something –”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lan Qiren said. “You’re my – lover by proxy, I suppose, or at least something resembling a friend.”

To the extent one could befriend an especially large, especially poisonous serpent, anyway. Despite this, Lan Qiren liked to think he wasn’t doing too bad a job at it.

“The least I can do is get you something you actually enjoy,” he added, scowling. “Unfortunately, despite all of our years of acquaintance, I honestly have no idea what that might be. I’m aware of your general penchant for torture, so I had initially considered a text on anatomy, but in all honesty supporting torture even by proxy makes me queasy so I had to discard that idea –”

“A text on anatomy,” Wen Ruohan interrupted, blinking in that strange way he had when he was surprised by something. Usually Lan Qiren, actually, although Lao Nie sometimes managed it, too. “You were thinking of getting me something on anatomy so that I could – torture people better?”

“It does seem to be one of the few things you like to do,” Lan Qiren pointed out. “And it’s not as if I have any treatises on clever machines one can use to extract entrails or something.”

“I’m delighted you even considered it,” Wen Ruohan said. He seemed to be fighting a laugh.

“Perhaps some medicine?” Lqn Qiren mused.

“I’m fairly sure my sect’s pharmacists are better than yours. I get all sorts of herbs to aid in cultivation from sects all over –”

“Not in aid of cultivation; I’m hardly going to gift you with your hundredth strand of ancient ginseng, am I? I meant for your anemia.”

“My – what?”

“You have a strange fixation on blood in all forms, whether the shedding in battle or merely at dinner. It occurred to me that you might be minorly anemic.”

Wen Ruohan covered his mouth with his sleeve. His shoulders were shaking.

“Listen, your only hobbies are sadism, blood, and power, and there’s nothing I can do for you on any of those scores,” Lan Qiren said, scowling. “You have to have some sort of thing that you can do –”

“I paint.”

Lan Qiren blinked. “You paint? Recreationally? Really?”

Wen Ruohan shrugged. “I used to, at any rate. It’s been – rather a while.”

For someone like Wen Ruohan, that ‘while’ might very well be as long as Lan Qiren’s life.

“I used to be rather good at it,” Wen Ruohan said thoughtfully. “Or at least I thought I was.”

“Have I seen any of your work?” Lan Qiren asked, and Wen Ruohan blinked at him. “You have art all over the Nightless City. Is any of it yours?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” Privately, Lan Qiren thought that it was because personal paintings did not demonstrate the extent of Wen Ruohan’s power over others, and were thereby less satisfying, but Wen Ruohan had shifted over to looking contemplative and even nostalgic.

“You know,” Wen Ruohan murmured. “I’m really not sure.”

“Well, I can certainly get you paints,” Lan Qiren said. “And Lao Nie and I can drag you to some secluded location with a good view to allow you some time to indulge in it; I think that sounds like an excellent gift. Thank you for the idea.”

“…think nothing of it.”

-

“I will rip him limb from limb,” Wen Ruohan hissed. “I will tear out his stomach and feed it to him.”

“You’re overreacting,” Lan Qiren said.

“I am not,” Wen Ruohan said, like a liar. “He nearly killed you!”

Lan Qiren turned his gaze to Lao Nie, who was usually fairly good at keeping Wen Ruohan back, but his old friend had his arms crossed over his chest and a thunderous scowl fixed firmly on his face.

Apparently, he agreed with Wen Ruohan.

“It wasn’t an attack meant to kill,” Lan Qiren tried to explain. “It was only meant to paralyze –”

“Oh, so severing your spine is no big deal then?”

“You have at least a dozen tools that are designed to do just that in your basement,” Lan Qiren reminded Wen Ruohan.

“I don’t use them anymore,” Wen Ruohan growled. “You’ve taken all the fun out of it, the two of you. If I want to hurt someone, Lao Nie is more fun; if I want a challenge, Teacher Lan is always available to be at my throat; if I want to exert power, I need only remind any sect leader in the cultivation world of our relationship and they will have no choice but to submit unhappily to reality. It’s hardly worth wasting my time on some random prisoners. Now don’t try to distract me – you can’t honestly say that you want to live the rest of your life without your legs!”

“Obviously not, though one might argue that my mobility is already limited enough that adding a wheelchair would not make that much of a difference. I’m just pointing out –”

“When he’s fully healed, we’re taking him on vacation,” Lao Nie said to Wen Ruohan, who nodded furiously. “A long one. The Lan sect can cope.”

“How did we get on the subject of vacation?” Lan Qiren asked, starting to wonder if it was him or them that had lost the thread of their conversation. “I merely wished to say that your reaction is overblown. The threat has passed, and I remain alive and intact –”

“Except for the gaping hole in your back.”

“It’s been bandaged and stitched up. I’ll be fine.”

“Oh, yes, you will be,” Wen Ruohan said, and finally sat down again, putting his hand on Lan Qiren’s hip to start transferring spiritual energy over. He had a truly obscene amount of qi – something Lan Qiren supposed he had to be grateful for, as it had been that, in conjunction with Lao Nie’s extraordinary fighting skills, that had saved his life. “I will make sure you’re fine. By force if necessary.”

“He was just upset –”

“Stop making excuses for him,” Lao Nie said. His voice was low and tight and angry and tired. “You’ve been apologizing for your brother since the first day I met you, Qiren. He doesn’t deserve it.”

“You were his friend once, too,” Lan Qiren reminded him.

“I was,” Lao Nie said. “There was something worth being friends with there, once. You’ve paid dearly for every mistake he’s ever made – but not this. Not this.”

“There is a boundary to filial piety,” Wen Ruohan agreed. “And in the end, he is only your elder brother. He is not entitled to your life.”

“He didn’t want my life,” Lan Qiren said. “He wanted me to suffer as he suffers. He’s not well.”

Insane, in fact. That would be the word for it.

Mad, raging, ravening – if Lan Qiren could blame a qi deviation, of the sort that tended to end Lao Nie’s family line when their meridians weren’t being constantly tended to by the most powerful cultivator alive with an obsession for keeping his lover alive, he would. That might yet be found to be the cause; he didn’t know, he wasn’t involved in the investigation.

It wouldn’t be appropriate for him to be involved, whether as the direct victim or the closest living family of the perpetrator.

Lan Qiren…didn’t know what to do with any of that.

He didn’t recognize his brother in the madman that tried to kill him simply for being happy, for being reputed to have taken on lovers. He didn’t recognize even the faintest shell of him.

“Maybe we should take him on that vacation now,” Lao Nie said to Wen Ruohan, who looked thoughtful. “Hanhan, do you still have that – that ridiculous carriage, the big wide one, the one designed to avoid any bumps…?”

“You’re not taking me away from the Cloud Recesses before the trial,” Lan Qiren said, though he wasn’t actually sure if there would even be a trial. It seemed like the sort of thing that his sect would prefer to cover up, though it might be difficult to do so with two other sect leaders aware of what had happened and angry about it. “I’m sect leader, remember?”

“Acting sect leader,” Wen Ruohan said, and for once the reminder wasn’t meant to be poisonous. “Leave the matter to your sect elders.” He paused. “Or to me, I could handle it.”

“You could commit a murder, you mean.”

“A justified murder.”

“No, Ruohan-xiong.”

“How do you put up with this?” Wen Ruohan complained to Lao Nie, who unbent just long enough to look amused. “This stubbornness.”

“Oh, come off it,” Lao Nie said. “You love it.”

“I admit to nothing.”

“You stopped trying to conquer the world for us, I don’t need you to say that you love us,” Lao Nie said. “You can give up on this murder for us, too. Now shift over, I’m taking the inside of the bed.”

“What? No! We’re not sharing a bed,” Lan Qiren said. “You’re both far too elbow-y.”

“That’s too bad for you,” Wen Ruohan said, curling up behind him, even as Lao Nie firmly planted himself in front of him, both of them careful to avoid the wound on Lan Qiren’s side and back. “This is an excellent position for dual cultivation –”

“Ruohan-xiong!”

“Non-sexual dual cultivation, Qiren, stop whining. You’re going to live a good long life whether you like it or not.”

“That’s not how that works,” Lan Qiren complained, but he knew he was already yielding.

“Yes, it is,” Wen Ruohan said in his ear. “I’ll make it be the way it works. You’ll see…”

[riversofmars]

Well, well, well, here we are, forth and final part to this story! Thank you everyone for reading, I hope you enjoyed it as much as i did writing it! I'm happy to say, I'll probably be posting another fic for them next week, plus, I'm working on some bits for them for Whumptober! Until then, hope you enjoy this last part <3

Home Is Not A Place - Part 4: The Way Forward

When Caroline stepped out of her SUV, she narrowly avoided a puddle and congratulated herself on the small achievement. She walked around the side of the car to get Flora out of her seat. The week had gone by in a haze and by the time the weekend came round again, Caroline hadn’t been able to face being cooped up at the farm. So she had invited herself and Flora to her mother’s and Alan’s for the day, a course of action she had started to regret the moment her mother turned her visit into an interrogation.

“What’s the matter with you?“ Celia’s sharp observational skills had picked up on Caroline’s discomfort within moments of her entering the house.

“It’s been an exhausting week.“ Despite Caroline’s best attempts at making her drop the issue, Celia was like a dog with a bone:

“Did something happen? I told you it would be a bad idea, this. You and Gillian, you’re like fire and water, cats and dogs, it was never going to go well, I’m surprised it lasted as long as it did,“ Celia had huffed with no small measure of self-righteousness.

“Nothing happened! Everything is fine with our living arrangements.“ In hindsight, Caroline wasn’t sure how convincing her assurances had been but her mother wouldn’t have dropped the issue either way.

“That’s not what Alan said,“ her mother had countered, which came as a surprise to Caroline. Alan had been nothing but supportive of her move to the farm.

“What?“

“I didn’t say anything of the sort…“ Alan had intervened, but Celina had a habit of twisting his words the way they suited her.

“You said Gillian sounded strange on the phone, like something had happened.“

“Yes, but that could be any number of things…“ Alan had tried to appease, but the damage had been done.

Now, Caroline was back at the farm contemplating how they could move forward from here. She didn’t want her mother to have been right but the more she thought about it, the harder the current situation appeared to maintain. Watching Flora skip up the stairs to the farm house, calling for Calamity, was a particularly painful reminder of what she had ruined.

“Hiya Caz!“ A voice called to her as she hung up her coat in the front room and she tried to ignore her disappointment with the fact that it was Raff, not Gillian.

“Hello everyone,“ Caroline smiled as she came into the lounge. Flora had pounced onto Calamity on the sofa, next to Ellie, who was feeding the baby and gave her a quick wave of greeting. Caroline turned her attention to the kitchen where Raff was setting the table. Gillian was nowhere in sight which was both a relief and a disappointment. “Date night, is it?“ Caroline asked with a smirk as she noticed Raff had only set the table for two. There were wine glasses too, which the headteacher thought odd, as Raff didn’t drink wine really, but maybe he was making an effort for Ellie.

“This? Oh no, that’s not for us,“ Raff was quick to explain. “We’re gonna take kids to Harvesters if that’s alright with you.“

“Oh…“ Caroline didn’t know how else to respond.

“You and me Mum really need to sort out whatever it is you’ve got going on,“ Raff explained and opened the oven, checking on what looked like steak and ale pie. “I know she’s a lot to handle but…she’s better with you around so, whatever she’s done, just… try and move on from it?“ He retrieved the pie and put it on the table.

“It wasn’t her…“ Caroline said softly. “She didn’t do anything…“

“Oh well, then…you just sort it out, yeah?“ Raff reached out and put his hand to her arm, a gesture of understanding and support that Caroline didn’t feel she deserved, but was grateful for anyway.

“Right.“ She managed a thin smile and Ellie announced from the sofa:

“We’ll get the kids out of your hair.“

“What’s all this?“ As if on cue, Gillian appeared in the doorway of the lounge.

“Dinner.“ Raff smiled, setting the oven gloves down and following his wife who was shepherding the kids out.

“You not stopping?“ Gillian frowned, confused.

“Promised Calamity and Flora we’d go to Harvesters this weekend so you guys enjoy,“ Raff explained, gesturing towards the table.

“Raff!“ Gillian exclaimed, panic evident in her voice at the prospect of being left alone with Caroline. The headteacher just stood by the kitchen table, grabbing on to the back of a chair far more tightly then necessary.

“See you in a bit… come on little monsters, off we go!“ Raff paid no attention to his mother’s protest and silence fell upon their departure.

“Dunno why he did this…“ Gillian was first to break the awkward standoff, pushing her hands in her pockets self-consciously.

“Cause he wants us to sort things out,“ Caroline replied without looking at her. She decided it was best to sit down. Raff had gone to a lot of trouble for them and so it would be ungrateful of them to not at least try.

“Did you tell him?“ Gillian’s voice was shaky and accusatory in equal measures.

“No. Of course not…“ Caroline huffed. “Did you?“ She looked up to Gillian who sat down across from her, even if it was reluctantly.

“Course not!“ The sheep farmer shot back as if it was a ridiculous notion.

“Right…“ Caroline hummed. “Well, it’d be a shame to…let this go to waste…“

“I guess…“ Gillian had to agree and took the initiative of dishing out the food. “How’s me Dad?“ she asked without looking at Caroline.

“Fine, yeah, it was a nice day,“ the headteacher replied in a non-committal sort of way.

“Was it?“ Gillian’s voice let on how much she doubted that and Caroline couldn’t help a small smile, at how well Gillian was able to interpret the situation.

“Well, apart from my mother giving me an earful as usual,“ she admitted as she took a bite of the pie.

“What about?“ Gillian asked as she started eating as well.

“Oh just her usual high and mighty nonsense, how she’d been right, us living together would never work,“ Caroline answered thoughtfully. She wanted to be outraged by the very suggestion but she couldn’t be. Not when she had to entertain the possibility that maybe she had a point.

“Hm,“ Gillian huffed a response. “Hate it when your mum’s right.“

“She’s not right,“ Caroline shot back quickly, refusing to believe that, and Gillian held her hands up in defence.

“If you say so…“

Conversation stalled and they focused on their food instead. Where before, silence had been comfortable and peaceful between them, it was now laden with unspoken accusations and bitter disappointment. So much so, that eventually, they couldn’t take it anymore and Gillian was the first to break. She downed the rest of her wine and got to her feet though she was nowhere near done.

“Gillian…“ Caroline felt obliged to try and stop her from walking away.

“Just got to go check on sheep…“ Gillian said and Caroline shook her head:

“No, you don’t.“

“How would you know, you don’t know first thing about farming,“ Gillian snapped as she made her way into the lounge.

“I’ve lived here long enough to pick up a thing or two,“ Caroline countered and got up herself. “You’ve just been to feed them before we sat down.“ She followed her into the living area.

“Maybe I’m just looking for an excuse to go for a walk then. Fucking hell, Caroline, just give me some space, would you?“ Gillian yelled, and the expression of shock and hurt on Caroline’s face must have been all too obvious. “Sorry…“ The sheep farmer mumbled quickly. Her reaction had been over the top and it was impossible to deny how bad things had gotten. They couldn’t ignore it any longer, they needed to sort it out. Gillian perched against the sofa and crossed her arms in front of her chest, a gesture both defensive and protective. She didn’t look at Caroline, who lingered a few meters from her, she just stared at her own feet.

“Maybe this was a bad idea, us moving in here,“ Caroline said at last, admitting to something she neither believed nor wanted to be true, but it seemed the easiest way to alleviate the pain they were clearly both in.

“Don’t say that,“ Gillian mumbled, kicking her feet on the thick rug.

“It was, it was a bad idea. On paper it was perfect but in reality…“ Caroline gave a bitter laugh.

“It was too. It was…perfect, in reality, I mean…it was so…good…“ Gillian admitted, her voice soft and full of regret. It hurt Caroline more than another angry outburst would have. That disappointment that everything had gone up in flames after it had been so good, for all of them.

“But only until…it’s made me… I don’t know… the other day, that shouldn’t have happened.“ Caroline couldn’t get her words out, not properly, but Gillian understood anyway. There was, after all, only one thing she could be referring to.

“Caroline-,“ Gillian started but Caroline interrupted her:

“No, it was wrong, I read too much into what you were saying, it won’t happen again, I promise. But if you want me to go, if you feel like that’s going to hang over us from now on, I understand, I…“ It was the last thing she wanted but if that was what it took to make things go back to normal, she was prepared to make that sacrifice. She would sooner have Gillian as a friend with a healthy distance between them, than push their relationship beyond repair by forcing closeness that wasn’t good for either one of them.

“It’s not that, Caz,“ Gillian actually started laughing, in a desperate, disbelieving sort of way that stunned Caroline.

“It’s not?“ The headteacher echoed incredulously and Gillian shook her head.

“No…“

“Then what?“ Caroline asked, desperate for an alternative explanation. “Give me a clue.“

“Given you lots of clues, haven’t I, and you picked up on ‘em too and then… I just… don’t know, I freaked out, didn’t I. Like the utter pillock I am…“ Gillian mumbled, shifting uncomfortably.

“What do you mean?“ Caroline frowned, she wasn’t sure whether she had heard her right or if she was getting the wrong end of the stick again.

“You know when you…“ Gillian cleared her throat awkwardly, but managed to meet her eyes at last. Caroline was surprised at the depth of emotion she found there. Negative ones, yes, like Gillian’s constant self-doubt and anxiety, but positive ones too, like admiration and something akin to longing. “Been wondering what it’d be like to… have someone like you, you know… and then, you’re here and like I was saying, it’s everything but the sex, isn’t it, and I meant what I said, I’d never been… happier…“ She paused and took a deep breath, she looked back to the floor as if she didn’t want to face Caroline’s reaction as she carried on: “I like you Caz, like really like you, for God’s sake, I’m sharing my f-bloody life with you, aren’t I, for what that’s w-worth and I… I thought maybe…“ The sheep farmer broke off her stuttering explanation as her courage left her.

“Gillian, I…“ Caroline took a step towards her, she reached out, intent on taking her hands but Gillian flinched back, clasping her arms around herself again as a means of protection.

“You’re too good for me, Caroline. In like, every way, and for some s-stupid reason… you seem to want to be here and I can’t figure out why! Sure, makes childcare easier, dunnit but… you always have to put up with me and Raff, Ellie, little ones… you could just pay for f-bloody wrap-around care, couldn’t you, it’s not like you can’t afford it…“ The sheep farmer burst out, shaking her head vehemently.

“Gillian,“ Caroline tried to appease her but there was no talking to her when she got like this, into a self-destructive, self-deprecating spiral because she believed nothing good would ever happen to her and if it did, she surely didn’t deserve it.

“So yeah, guess I… can’t blame you for wanting to leave, like, what were you doing here in the first place…“ Gillian took a deep breath, coming to the inevitable conclusion.

“Has it, at any point in that convoluted reasoning of yours, occurred to you that maybe, I like sharing my life with you too?“ Caroline asked, slowly, testing the waters as her heartbeat started to thunder in her ears upon the realisation that she had looked at things all wrong. The reason Gillian had rebuffed her advances was not that she wasn’t interested, that she had overstepped, it was because she had got scared and pulled back at the last moment because still, after all this time, she still didn’t believe she deserved to be happy.

“Oh…“ Gillian’s response was barely audible, she still stared at the floor, and Caroline decided this was her moment to put everything right. Things couldn’t get much worse, could they, so with a sort of dead man’s courage, she decided to put all her cards on the table. She retreated to a safe distance over by the fire before turning back, arms crossed in front of her chest.

“Yes, maybe it was a stupid idea to move in together, God knows I usually have better judgement than that - but then, looking at John, maybe I don’t,“ Caroline announced and was relieved to see a little smile cross the sheep farmer’s features, even if it was just for a moment. It encouraged her to keep going. “Maybe, I was tempted! Maybe I liked the idea of this, of us! And I always knew that there was a good chance I would only be making things worse for myself. Bad enough that I fancy my step sister, I put myself in the same house. With you right there, in arm’s reach! Cooking for me, looking after my daughter. You were changing in front of the fucking fire for God’s sake! Do you have any idea what that did to me?“ Caroline sigh, exasperated and Gillian huffed:

“No…“

“Well, I can tell you, it made things quite a lot worse, otherwise I would never… because I knew you wouldn’t be interested. I knew! You’re straight as an arrow. Except for when you’re not, which you just happened to drop into the conversation! Honestly, Gillian, what are you trying to do to me?“ Caroline laughed in a desperate sort of way at the irony of it all.

“Well, I don’t know, Caroline, maybe I was trying to say that yeah, maybe I’m like, I don’t know, interested! In you! As f-bloody mad as that sounds. You drive me crazy!“ Gillian exclaimed, breaking out of her stupor at last.

“We drive each other crazy, that’s not just on me,“ Caroline shot back, but not unkindly.

“You’re impossible!“ Gillian groaned, shaking her head at her.

“I’m impossible? You’re the one that pushed me away! I would have been quite happy to make all your sapphic fantasies come true, which, for the record, would have put you off men for good, I promise you that! You pushed me away,“ Caroline insisted sternly and this time, Gillian held her gaze defiantly.

“Yeah, well, maybe I was scared!“ Gillian declared and Caroline laughed at how ridiculous that sounded.

“When has sex ever scared Gillian Greenwood?“

“Not the sex, fuck’s sake, the commitment! Everything else! Our parents finding out! Ellie and Raff, they live in the same house as us. And the kids! And what will your colleagues say?“ Gillian gestured wildly, her emotions getting the better of her. “Did you hear, Dr. McKenzie-Dawson is dating again, yes, a sheep farmer, would you believe it?“ She faked a posh accent that she couldn’t maintain. “Caroline, I have nothing to give you, that’s what put us in this position, my f-bloody ineptitude at life.“ Gillian ran her hands through her hair, desperately trying to make her understand, but all Caroline did was take a step closer to her.

“I don’t want anything from you, I don’t have any expectations,“ she answered softly in response to her emotional outburst.

“You say that now but I bet when…“ Gillian averted her eyes again, looking at anything, everything, apart from the attractive headteacher who stepped into her personal space and simply took her hands, forcing her out of her defensive posture. The sheep farmer didn’t struggle, she couldn’t.

“Gillian. I am already sharing my life with you. We live in the same house. You look after my daughter. We share the burdens and we share the rewards, we are already, for all intents and purposes, partners. Do you really think I care what people say?“ Caroline asked softly and a strangled sob escaped Gillian’s trembling lips.

“I care,“ she declared and cleared her throat, struggling for composure. “Not ‘bout… what they say about me, like, I know what they say, don’t bother me anymore, but you…“

“Gillian, shut up,“ Caroline said and Gillian gave a bitter laugh:

“Don’t just tell me to shut up, you’re not headmistress here, are ya, you…“

“Gillian, you really need to learn when to shut up. I don’t care about other people. Yes, maybe, seven years ago when we first met, I would have, but not now, not after everything with John, and Kate, Flora, the new job, you… I don’t care anymore. I just want to be happy… don’t we deserve nice things, after all that?“ She let go of her hands and instead cupped Gillian’s cheeks. She tilted her head up, made her look at her.

“You deserve everything, Caroline, and I can’t…give that to you,“ Gillian mumbled but Caroline gently shook her head.

“I don’t want everything. I’d be quite content just having you, if it’s all the same to you,“ she hummed and leaned down to kiss her. This time, Gillian didn’t pull back. If anything, she allowed herself a moment of weakness too. She kissed her back, wet and sloppy, as tears fell from her eyes that Caroline was quick to brush away.

“Well, you can… have me… if that’s what… you want…“ Gillian rested her forehead against Caroline’s as they broke apart.

“Yes please…“ Caroline pulled her close, wrapping her arms around her. Gillian was shaking still, insecure, a bundle of nerves, and Caroline was determined to make it all better for her. She knew she could. “Do you remember how hung up I used to be on that house in Harrogate?” The sheep farmer gave a little nod but frowned, confused as to what her point might be. Caroline gave her a warm smile, pulling her close. “I’ve come to realise something since then.“ She gave a little chuckle and pressed a kiss to the top of her sheep farmer’s head. “Home is not a place, it’s not four walls and a roof… it’s the people you live with. I feel at home with you, Gillian.“

“Alright then…“ Gillian mumbled into her shoulder, obviously fighting back tears as she rested her head there. They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, taking comfort in the other’s closeness that they had missed so dearly over the course of last week.

“So you were dropping hints, were you?“ Caroline chuckled, as she straightened herself up again at last and ran her hands along the collar of Gillian’s plaid shirt.

“Maybe…“ Gillian admitted sheepishly, wiping a few stray tears away. She took a deep breath, focusing on Caroline, who regarded her with a warm smile.

“Getting naked in the lounge?“ The headteacher raised her eyebrows at her.

“I had to get out of those clothes, you said so yourself…“ The sheep farmer countered and Caroline laughed:

“It was a cheap ploy.“

“Worked though?“ Gillian smirked, seemingly feeling more confident with every moment.

“Worked very well… I was lying awake all night thinking about it…“ Caroline admitted with a hum and she looked down at Gillian’s body.

“You were?“ Gillian grinned and Caroline leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on her neck, just below her ear.

“You have no idea…“ She hummed and delighted at how Gillian seemed to stiffen a little.

“Well, maybe you can tell me about it…“ The sheep farmer suggested, her voice a little more breathless than before.

“Show, don’t tell…“ Caroline grinned and captured her lips in another kiss.

“Fine by me…“ Gillian whispered into the kiss and started tugging at Caroline’s blouse.

[iturbide]

Crest Control Edelgard in Heroes

(CheeseAndCake here) You asked for Crest Control Edelgard in Askr, so here she is! My brain does not like being quiet, apparently. I want you to know that this is your responsibility now, Enjoy! (I also have no idea if this will work, so heres to hoping for the best.)  

Note: The things Edelgard says/thinks are things she thinks are true, that doesn’t mean she 100% perfectly understands her past self. 

 ______________________________________________________________

The former Emperor blinked as her surroundings disappeared and reshaped in a flash of light. What was- 

Just a second ago, she was entering Queen Ivanna’s office to deliver news, and now she was standing at an altar, with a hooded figure in front of her, and no idea what was going on. She was still wearing her black dress with pink highlights, with her armour over said dress, hair still done up in a bun, and still holding her dagger, so if this was an ambush, it was poorly planned. She was pretty sure the Texts guarded by the church never mentioned this, and-

“Greetings, hero, welcome to the world of Ask.” The figure began, nodding their hood, “I am Kiran, the summoner who called you forth. This world is under attack, and in desperate need of aid, will you fight with us?”

“I am no hero,” She responded,  knowing that anyone that referred to her as hero must not know about her earlier life, before she fought Those Who Slither, or have a gross misunderstanding of what heroes are, “But if you need my aid, I shall give it. I am Edelgard.” 

That didn’t mean she trusted them, but if they were being honest, she would give her aid.

Kiran nodded, “Very well, welcome to the Order of Heroes. Here, different people are summoned across space and time, so you may run into people you know, or… other versions of yourself.”

 That was… the last thing she needed, but she nodded anyway, and Kiran led her to what would be her chambers. This was a war. She knew war.  

She nearly tried to sit Kiran’s throat when she thought heard a nearby child scream, but after a moment she realised the child- who she could see had green hair and wings now that she was closer- was laughing, as an older woman who looked similar to her smiled in response.

“You recruit children to your order?” She asked. She didn’t how dragon children aged, truely- there weren’t any dragon’s left when she escaped, after what she did- but she knew only children laughed like that. She made a mental note to talk to them later and ask about their beliefs and traditions, since there weren’t any dragons in Ivanna’s army, and it would be important to know.  

Kiran sighed, “I cannot control who I summon, or from what time I do. Sometimes, they are children. I don’t let them fight, but they can stay if they want.” 

She didn’t ask why they would want to stay in a country at war. If she had the opportunity as a child, she would have grabbed it with both hands. 

“When it’s over, will they be sent back to where they were taken from?” If enough time passed…

“Yes, they’re sent back to the same place, without any time passing, but they keep their memories.” Ah, that’s… not the best, for the children in a bad position, but at the very least, no one will panic about her disappearance. 

It was only when she turned a corner and saw a version of herself, not wearing any black, but an Emperor’s red and a horned crown, that she realised how bad this would be. A nightmare. This was a nightmare. But she’s lived longer than most, and she knows how to push down the familiar feeling of dizziness, and focus on following the white cloaked figure up the stairs.

She makes it to the second floor before she empties the contents of her stomach. 

Kiran was yelling something, but she didn’t completely hear it. Something about a bad reaction to seeing counterparts? 

Before she knew it, someone was leaning over her speaking in a deep voice.. It was only after a few breaths that she understood the words, and looked at the face of the person who came to comfort her, “-completely fine that you had a bad reaction, lots of worlds branch off, and- Edelgard?” 

“Dimitri?” For a moment, she wondered if the stress finally broke her before she dismissed it. If it did, Dimitri would look like he did on the Tailtean Plains. He wouldn’t be so calm, wearing royal armour, or missing an eye. 

“Which timeline are you from?” Kiran asked, voice breaking through her thought process and they helped her sit away from her vomit.

 “‘Timeline?’” 

“Ah, right. Each hero comes from their own individual world. In some worlds, different people won the war of Fodlan.” Kiran explained with a shrug, as apparently this was a common occurrence. 

She turned to Dimitri, “I’m assuming that in your world, you won the war?” He nodded, wincing.

“Then I guess congratulations are in order.” Edelgard continued, giving a short bow before a thought struck her. “Tell me, what was the fate of- Professor Byleth in your world?”

“They became Archbishop of the church of Serios.” Dimitri responded, starting to look concerned, but she didn’t care. That Byleth didn’t follow her, and Those Who Slither would have destroyed the church if they had a pawn in such a high position, which meant…

There was a world where Byleth lived their own life. Free.

She pushed aside any bitterness that it wasn’t her world that had that Byleth. She played her own part in what happened, and now all she could do was move forward. 

“Did I join you, or die?” Now Dimitri was openly staring at her, and she quickly schooled her expression into something more neutral. 

Dimitri glanced down, and in that moment, he looked exhausted. “You… died, El.”

She winced at the old name, “Please don’t call me that.” Her death really wasn’t a surprise. She knew how stubborn she was in the past, and how stubborn she can still be.

“I would apologise for all the heartache I put you through,” she began, standing up straight, “but we both know an apology won’t fix anything. I can only try to make it right with my actions.”

“It won’t fix anything,” Dimitri agreed, his single eye almost looking into her soul, “It’s start, though.” 

“…I’m… sorry, for everything.” The words felt like lead in her mouth, but once they’re out, she didn’t feel any lighter.  

“Thank you.” He sounded sincere, and that just make it worse. 

“Don’t thank me. Not for this.” 

————————————

It’s later, when she was directed towards a woman named Kagero after a few questions, that she thought about what she was about to do. 

She knew herself well enough to understand she only had one chance at it, and if she ruins it, would take much more time and effort to reach the same goal.

Her past self did have a very narrow mind view, so presentation would be half the battle. 

She looked at the small drink offered with a bone deep wariness, and asked “Is the drink alcoholic?”

“Yes,” The ninja- who was currently dressed as a maid- nodded as she cleaned one of the glasses, “I can get a different one if you want.”

“No, thank you, I’m going to need this.” She drank the entire thing in a few gulps, willing for the contents of the glass to give her confidence and numb any pain that would come. 

“Don’t let me have any more,” Edelgard said as she passed the glass back to the server. “I’m going to need a clear head for this.”

“Working together with an enemy for your world?” The ninja asked, as if it was something that happened every week.

“Something like that.”

—————————————

“In my world, Those Who Slither won.” That was all she needed to say to quiet her student self enough to listen. Despite all the time that passed, and everything that happened, Edelgard still knew how to stand and speak like a ruler, and she used every lesson she learned into what she had planned to say here.

“They won, because my war created instability instead of destroying it. Afterwards, they took me back to that godforsaken dungeon and continued their experiments. You know, when we were younger, they needed to keep us alive.” She didn’t bother trying to hide her bitter smile, “They didn’t need to keep us alive this time, so they didn’t restrain themselves.”

It wasn’t a kind thing to say, but Edelgard wasn’t kind. Kindness didn’t win battles, but violence didn’t win hearts. 

“Do you know, why, in the end, they failed?” She continued before her student self could interject, ignoring any memories or emotions that surfaced, “Because Dimitri’s cousin and Claude came back to Fodlan- after years of hiding- to help the people. If we killed them that night in the forest, I never would have escaped. I would have died just another nameless experiment.”  

 The ‘like our siblings’ goes unsaid, and Edelgard wondered if her younger self even heard it.

“You still think it’s a fairy-tale where the fight will be the hardest part, but war… War will be the easiest thing you’ll ever do. The most natural thing you’ll ever do. We grew up on the stories of freedom through violence, of Nemesis and Serios. We have enough resources to sit upon a throne without thinking about who died for it. We’ve been exposed to bloodshed since we were a child, so killing will be easy. Being remembered will be easy.” 

Because at the end of the day, that was all her past self was: a child who wanted to be strong and free like Nemesis. The church was the most visible cage, so it was the first one she tried to destroy.

Edelgard looked her past self in the eye, making sure that if nothing, she heard these words. “Building something after you destroy everything will be impossible for you, because you don’t even know what will come after. You haven’t even thought of it.” 

It didn’t take a mind reader to know she’s shaken the girl, but it only took a moment for her past self to deny it.

“You’ve clearly been corrupted by them, if you believe that humanity won’t be able to build themselves up once the church is gone!” Her past self had a fierce look in her eyes, and she knew at this moment the conversation wouldn’t get anywhere.

“Maybe I have,” Edelgard agreed easily, because she never did find out what it was like to have her free will taken from her. Maybe it felt like you were in control, maybe you were aware the entire time, unable to call for help, maybe it felt like you were half asleep.

She hoped that it was the last option, because if it wasn’t she didn’t know what she would do, but she knew better than to hope.

“But I’ll ask you this:” She continued, because her past self might not bother looking for anything that will change her view, but Edelgard knew her past self’s fears and hopes, and she knows just how stubborn she can be. “Do you honestly think that every act in history was created or twisted by dragons? You claim that humanity is strong, but then claim that they have no agency.

“I’m not foolish enough to try and convince you otherwise.” Edelgard turned to leave, “Nothing but your own consequences will do that. I’m just telling you to prepare for the worst.”

She took a few steps down the hallway before stopping. “Of course, if you want to learn how to limit casualties in the upcoming war, come to me. It’s a useful thing to know.”

Because she can’t force anyone to do anything. She doesn’t have the right, but if her past self is curious enough to listen, she will tell the truth, without hesitation.

Fodlan had already paid enough for her ignorance.

 ______________________________________________

I’m not gonna lie I’ve read through this at least three times now in my inbox and I just love all of it???  Holding strong even after seeing another version of herself until she’s safely away and then completely losing it?  Coming face to face with Dimitri, saying she won’t apologize for the heartache she caused because it doesn’t fix anything, but when Dimitri says that it’s a shart she does it (and it doesn’t feel any better but she did it and I’m proud of her)?  Steamrolling her way through the start of her conversation with her younger self because she knows that it’s the only way to get a word in edgewise?  It’s all fantastic and I love it and I want to see more of it

Also I felt compelled to try sketching out a conceptual CC!Edelgard take this as either thanks for sending this or a bribe for more or both your choice

[dclevinson]

August 21: my kaddish month

I’ve sent this to a number of people, but I’m putting it here too in case some readers who might be interested will stumble across it:

A little more than a month has passed since Cindy died, and I get asked a lot how I’m doing. My standard answer starts with a couple ways of framing:

 --- the earthquake is over, but there are lots of unpredictable emotional aftershocks

 --- I’m past the Shock & Numbness phase, but normal life doesn’t seem normal. Lots of How Can This Be Real moments that can be disorienting and distressing

 --- many times emotions collide: how much to lean into or away from grief, how to feel it’s OK to feel OK when I do, how keep her with me and move forward too, etc

 I suppose at some point a fascination with grief can start to make others uncomfortable, but grieving has a logic of its own. One key part of “after” life was the 30 days of daily religious services I attended to honor her memory.  I found the routine and --- surprisingly, the ritual --- spiritually nourishing. Cindy’s eyebrows always shot up at the word “spiritual.” Usually mine too. I hope those of you I send these four pages to don’t find it too tedious Perhaps it’s a way of keeping Cindy in your thoughts and hearts too…

       I am a most unlikely daily mourning ritual observer. I didn’t do it for my father, and he asked us not to. But the ritual mourning prayers and the place where I’d be doing it meant a lot to Cindy, so I just committed without much deliberation. One problem in writing about a fairly traditional type of observance is that the spectrum of Jewish religious practice can be mystifying, even to many Jews. So how explain it to outsiders? I’ve tried to do it without being either too reverent or irreverent.

 One basic mourning commitment is to say “kaddish”, the mourner’s prayer, for a set amount of time. Jewish practice and custom is intellectually intricate and often arcane; there are rules and exceptions to rules and different interpretations of rules, etc. There are other customs/demands for remembrance too. Many think of saying kaddish as a year long commitment. Plus yearly anniversaries, set to a moving Hebrew calendar --- just to add to the degree of difficulty. But even the year thing has permutations: actual practice for some groups is 11 months, not 12.

 Why?. Different interpreters and communities make their own choices on duration. Our ritual director says “eleven.” Basically, some 13th century source says that “the wicked in Gehinom took 12 months for their souls to reach the highest levels of heaven.” But most Jews don’t even believe in a physical heaven!? Never mind. So, the reasoning goes, if the wicked took 12 months, we’ll mourn for 11: because our beloved Was Not Wicked. Welcome to Talmudic reasoning. But, traditionally, the year(ish) is for parents and children. For spouses the allotted time is 30 days. Though many people today may just do a year for anyone in the family. Thirty struck me as the perfect amount for the act to stay meaningful, helpful and not something I would treat as an increasingly resented chore.

 It’s not a prayer that religious custom allows you to say by yourself. You need a minyan (quorum) of 10. It used to be men, but now men or women, at least at our conservative temple (shul, synagogue, whatever --- more insider confusing terminology). But some do say it by themselves for the comfort it brings if finding a group is too arduous. And I cheated a couple days by joining the group virtually. But I found being with a gathering of supporters did matter to me. I could have gone to a shorter evening service to do this, but preferred the morning time. And came to think a 40ish minute observance time a good block to have meaningful daily impact.

 And then there’s the prayer itself. I realized right away that the weekday morning prayer service had many different kaddishs, similar prayers of thanks for and praise to a divine entity. But there’s one specific mourner’s version, said 3 times in oour short 40ish minute service. Twice, almost in succession at the end --- overkill or emphasis, depending on your point of view. Why the repeats? Haven’t pursued that yet. And, as some of you know, the prayer for the dead doesn’t mention dying or losing loved ones or honoring their memory, etc. It just profusely praises God (and lots of different words or phrases to refer to such entity since he/she/it is too holy and all powerful to mention the Real Name). Some phrases: “May god’s name be exalted and hallowed, his sovereignty soon accepted… glorified, celebrated, lauded, worshiped, exalted, honored, extolled and acclaimed… Lots of current Jewish religious practice incorporates the Middle Ages wholesale. Or earlier. Read the English on the facing page of the prayer book and much of the service sounds like the practice of a small, threatened tribe huddling in the desert thousands of years ago.

 There’s a lot about Jewish practice that seems natural and essential to practitioners but might alienate the uninitiated.  Or reluctant observers like me. The head coverings. The shoulder covering prayer shawls. The standing for this (many do: why not all??!), turning right for that, covering eyes for this line, fingering prayer shawl strings (tzitzit) for that. Whew. So many prayers and practices for so many different occasions. Designed, I’ve thought, to cement the devotion of believers. But it repel skeptics, too, I surmise.

 One such example: in these early services most men put on tefillin. Leather straps with little black boxes attached (a prayer inside) that have very specific wrapping/unwrapping  procedures for arms and head. It’s deeply moving to believers, but I’ve always thought it look repellent or ridiculous. Way too much like the garb of the ultra orthodox “crazies.” There are lots of I’ll do this/not that decisions in religious practice. I understand there’s a tenuous dynamic that exists between any minority and majority community, and clinging to tradition and being true to oneself can seem preferable to “selling out” to fit in. But sometimes it strikes us skeptics as more a clinging to “guns and religion” type intransigence.

 So, if you walked in on these services cold (I was lukewarm), there’s lots that would be pretty mystifying and potentially off-putting. How could you possibly fit in? In fact, I believe I was the only new guy or gal over my month. And there had to be a decent number of temple members who have lost family members during the time I attended. Seemingly no person younger than I was doing the morning kaddish thing. And usually I was the only or 1 of 2 who didn’t put on tefillin. Men. Women usually don’t. Though one of our female rabbis did. Good for her, though I wasn’t tempted to follow.

 I could fit in and feel comfortable at these services because a) I knew people there b) I was committed to being there and c) people took care of me. I no longer bristled at the imputation (real or just in my head?) that I’m a Bad Jew and I need instruction to be a Good One. This time I felt many there had cherished Cindy, understood why I was there, and quietly welcomed me. I was willing to look/be ignorant and accept guidance.

 It was reassuring to see many of Cindy’s compatriots from the temple sisterhood there day after day too. The whole group (20 to 40 most days) was interesting to observe: lots more joking and side conversations during the service than I’d imagined. And there was the guy older than I who usually wore cycling shorts and shirt, the much older guy who sat to my right who usually shuffled in 15 minutes late, etc etc.  Lots of accomplished people and interesting stories for another writer’s version. And --- most days --- someone called out the pages so I had some sense where we were.

 I can read Hebrew if I already know the prayer or chant. So I can’t really read Hebrew anymore. Much of the service is praising God’s amazing powers, thanking him for singling out and helping Jews (don’t let anti-Semites see this!), an intricate mix of different intricate sections that over days start to fit a pattern. There are a always some bits in any prayer book that I find edifying and worth recalling; often I’m reading in one place when the service is in another. My favorite in this one:

Rabbi Schuel ben Nahmani said: We find that the Holy One created  everything  in the world; only falsehood and exaggeration were not God’s doing. People devised those on their own.

 There’s no sermon on any days, just the chanting. And different melodies for different sections. And torah reading ritual (I could spend pages on this alone) Monday and Thursday. I still have to learn why those days. I preferred the shorter days without.

 I was most fortunate to have a long time neighbor and, like Cindy, long time temple leader who I was delighted to learn (only some 30 some years later) is a regular attendee of daily morning services. Like Cindy, he has the ability I don’t to take what’s worthwhile in religious practice and ignore the rest. He credits Cindy with his reading the new alternate section of one prayer praising the Patriarchs (Abraham, Isaac, Jacob) by adding Matriarchs too.

 It’s not supposed to be used at this particular service, but a couple women who led services on a rotating schedule snuck it in. Much to my friend Rick’s and my glee. He joked about wanting to write: Minyan, the Musical. Have to decide how reverent or irreverent to be I replied. Yes he said, and some would love it, some hate it. Like so much else in life, I thought.

 There’s way more I could describe: the various “honors” during torah reading for one. Early on I got congratulated for pulling the strings to open the torah ark/cabinet. Basically, the only task our ritual director could be sure at that point I wouldn’t flub. One more key detail: I was wearing Cindy remarkable hand knit prayer shawl. Which, of course, many of her friends recognized. Once I made the mistake when taking it off at the service end of holding it to my face: way too emotional to repeat daily. Much more detail I could include, but there’s likely already too much. Ask me if you want more.

 I was asked to say a few words on the last day, right before the concluding prayers. I told people I was a most unlikely minyan attendee, etc. Grateful for this and that person’s help and Rebbe Rick’s (joke) guidance and company. Uplifted seeing Cindy’s sisterhood comrades, etc. Hoped in coming months to find an enduring way to honor her memory, etc.

 My one specific observation: I had been hearing people recite kaddish at Saturday services off and on for over 60 years.  But I’d never given a thought to the brief parts where the congregation joins in on a quick line. Just part of the practice I’d heard without really hearing. Until I was the mourner. Then, on many days when the congregation joined in…

       Y’he sh’meh rabbvo m’orach l’olam ulolmey olmayo…

 …on many days I felt my heart lifting and a wave of emotional support wash over me. This is why you should say kaddish in a minyan if at all possible. Or I hope in your tradition or life there’s some equivalent thing to bring you comfort when/if you need it. Em and I have been lighting candles at a set time each week also. That works for us too.

 The morning group skews old. But I hope that such a group is always there for anyone who needs it. I don’t want to attend any religious services daily. Or weekly. But this is my favorite service. I’ll be back. But on a day they don’t read torah. Forty minutes is plenty.

 I decided, too, that on day 30, I would take off my wedding ring. I sensed that if I didn’t tie that act to a ritual I might have a hard time doing it.

[anghraine]

I rambled about this a few years ago (and more briefly, also a few days ago), but another P&P thing that I find ultimately very charming is the quiet development of a connection between Jane and Darcy. This is partially very subjective, but also partially ... less so. 

Anyway:

Jane and Elizabeth’s appearances:

Elizabeth, equally next to Jane in birth and beauty, succeeded her

Darcy and Georgiana’s appearances:

“She is a handsome girl, about fifteen or sixteen ...” 

She was less handsome than her brother

Jane’s early response to Darcy:

"Are you quite sure, ma'am? is not there a little mistake?” said Jane. "I certainly saw Mr Darcy speaking to her."

... "Miss Bingley told me," said Jane, "that he never speaks much, unless among his intimate acquaintance. With them he is remarkably agreeable."

Darcy’s early impression of Jane:

Miss Bennet he acknowledged to be pretty, but she smiled too much.

Also Darcy:

Darcy only smiled   

“And your defect is a propensity to hate everybody.”

“And yours,” he replied, with a smile, “is wilfully to misunderstand them.”

He smiled, and assured her that whatever she wished him to say should be said.

“What think you of books?” said he, smiling.

As he spoke there was a sort of smile which Elizabeth fancied she understood

“I am not afraid of you,” said he smilingly.

Darcy smiled and said, “You are perfectly right.”

she beheld a striking resemblance of Mr Darcy, with such a smile over the face as she remembered to have sometimes seen when he looked at her. 

she sat in misery till Mr Darcy appeared again, when, looking at him, she was a little relieved by his smile.

Darcy’s response to Jane’s recovery:

Miss Bingley's eyes were instantly turned towards Darcy, and she had something to say to him before he had advanced many steps. He addressed himself directly to Miss Bennet, with a polite congratulation 

Darcy’s observation of Jane:

“I shall not scruple to assert that the serenity of your sister's countenance and air was such as might have given the most acute observer a conviction that, however amiable her temper, her heart was not likely to be easily touched” 

Charlotte’s observation of Darcy:

She watched him whenever they were at Rosings, and whenever he came to Hunsford; but without much success. He certainly looked at her friend a great deal, but the expression of that look was disputable. 

Jane, in response to Elizabeth’s negative interpretation of Bingley’s departure:

“Let me take it in the best light” 

Darcy, explaining why he accepted Wickham's request for a bunch of money:

“I rather wished than believed him to be sincere”

Jane, after Wickham spreads his stories about Darcy:

Miss Bennet was the only creature who could suppose there might be any extenuating circumstances in the case.

Jane’s response to the revelation about Darcy’s proposal/Wickham’s true character:

Nor was Darcy's vindication, though grateful to her feelings, capable of consoling her for such discovery.

“And poor Mr Darcy! Dear Lizzy, only consider what he must have suffered.” 

Darcy, after explaining his Issues with the Bennets:

“consider that, to have conducted yourselves so as to avoid any share of the like censure, is praise no less generally bestowed on you and your eldest sister, than it is honourable to the sense and disposition of both.”

Elizabeth, stressing about her engagement to Darcy:

no one liked him but Jane

Jane with the Gardiner children:

[her] steady sense and sweetness of temper exactly adapted her for attending to them in every way

Darcy according to his housekeeper of 24 years:

“I have always observed, that they who are good-natured when children, are good-natured when they grow up; and he was always the sweetest-tempered, most generous-hearted boy in the world.”

Jane’s general demeanour:

Jane united, with great strength of feeling, a composure of temper and a uniform cheerfulness of manner 

Darcy at Pemberley:

when he spoke, his accent had none of its usual sedateness

Jane, when Lydia reveals that Darcy was at her wedding:

Jane's delicate sense of honour would not allow her to speak to Elizabeth privately of what Lydia had let fall

Austen’s description of Darcy in her letters:

I can imagine he wd have that sort [of] feeling.—That mixture of Love, Pride & Delicacy.

On Jane’s character:

Jane was firm where she felt herself to be right.

Mrs Gardiner on Darcy’s character:

“I fancy, Lizzy, that obstinacy is the real defect of his character after all. He has been accused of many faults at different times, but this is the true one.”

Mrs Reynolds describing Darcy’s relationship with Georgiana:

“Whatever can give his sister any pleasure is sure to be done in a moment. There is nothing he would not do for her.”

Jane to Elizabeth:

“If I could but see you as happy!”

The three characters that Darcy refers to by their given names alone:

“he so far recommended himself to Georgiana, whose affectionate heart retained a strong impression of his kindness to her as a child”

“I am more likely to want time than courage, Elizabeth.”

“Was there no good in your affectionate behaviour to Jane?”

Aaaaand—

Jane’s ultimate position on Darcy, while speaking to Elizabeth:

“there can be only Bingley and yourself more dear to me.” 

[c-estmabiologie]

this wilting world you’ve wed

Friends and strangers, I’m shaking off the moss to say that Jamie the Gardener absolutely wrecked me and so I had to emotionally decompress with a character study because I love to cry.

circa 1984 & 1998 (-ish)

Also on AO3

Then

Every person has got a story, whether that story gets told or not.

This is a story about a gardener.

As one would expect (or at least hope), plants were easy for the gardener. Plants would tell her when they were in need and it was never all that difficult for her to suss out what they were asking of her. Leaves would wilt and brown and she would know that they wanted watering. Spots would appear and she’d know to search out some source of rot. She could tell when to replant, when to find a sunnier spot, and when to take cuttings. She could coax vigor into the saddest houseplants left to curl into husks next to greeting cards and tabloid mags at the grocers’; she encouraged lilies leaning on shiny plastic picks that read “Congratulations” to hold themselves up by their own strength; she freed African violets from the crackle of cellophane and they would bloom in endless gratitude.

The au pair would bring them home, too, and treat them like puzzles for the gardener to solve. Their apartment became a garden over weeks and months and years. It was never as elegant and manicured as the lawns and hedges of the gardens where they’d first met, but it was a garden nonetheless, tended and tender. Ferns and pothos crowded sills and shelves and countertops.

More than once a day the gardener found herself sweeping potting soil off of surfaces and into her palm like so many crumbs.

“I don’t know about that one,” said the gardener one day, when the au pair came home with a particularly wild-looking ivy tucked into a plastic bag. It had been collected from who-knows-where (a ditch, as it would turn out).

“That one looks invasive.”

But the au pair was insistent.

“So we won’t let it outside,” she said. “I think it deserves as much of a chance as any other plant.”

The gardener relented, as she always would when the au pair asked for something (and she so seldom asked for anything).

The ivy, of course, flourished under the gardener’s care and, as she’d suspected, it was dissatisfied with keeping to itself. It would send tendrils to visit its neighbours. It would bury itself into their dirt and threaten to strangle other, much more polite plants, by their roots. The gardener almost didn’t catch it before it claimed its first, but she did manage to, if not tame it, at least keep it away from her personal favourites. If she sighed and grumbled over the ivy, then she made sure to do it when the au pair wasn’t in the room. Mostly.

Before

“You seem young.”

“Yeah, well, I guess I decided my youth was worth wasting.”

And with that there was a hitch in the conversation. Neither of them seemed to have a problem with each other, as far as the gardener could tell, but they both seemed to have a problem with interviews. The housekeeper seemed the meticulous sort with so many priorities constantly rising up and falling down a ranked list in her mind (to her credit, that last remark hadn’t seemed to put her off the gardener as a job candidate). For the gardener, this format recalled every time she’s had to sit in a chair before authority. The gardener hooked the toe of her boot around a chair leg and watched the housekeeper smooth her skirt out (unnecessarily, the skirt was perfectly kept) with her hands.

It struck the gardener then that the housekeeper was a striking woman. She wasn’t sure why this should surprise her. After all, the gardener wasn’t a tottering old bloke in galoshes like gardeners in storybooks, so why shouldn’t a housekeeper be beautiful?

When she was asked to explain why she was suited for the job, there was so much that the gardener couldn’t say, no matter how honestly she felt it. She knew better than to answer that she’d already decided that the job was as good as hers. She’d already paid a deposit on a little flat above a pub in the village. She’d even bought a plant for the windowsill. A calathea for new beginnings. For the gardener, this was where her story could start. No prologue necessary.

She couldn’t say that she could see the ritual of returning every morning, the house like a touchstone, to tend to things that were hers alone to tend to. The house would be asleep except for her. Just her and the mist that would curl up off the pond and around her ankles.

The gardener had gone so much of her life so far nomadic and unrooted by her choice, and just as often uprooted against her will. Here she felt she might be able to settle into herself a little.

There was a time not so long ago when the very idea of standing still would set the gardener’s feet in motion. In a way it was that same fear that had sent her here, to a village far enough away from, well, far enough from every place that had left her with scars and brick-bruised knuckles and the notion that she was a problem. Since coming to Bly she’d told herself that she was better now at understanding what she could handle until it had felt like truth. By the time she'd found her feet crunching up the path to the manor, she’d begun telling herself that she was sure that she could handle anything.

“Well, for one, you need a gardener. I can tell you’ve been without one for more than a few seasons,” was what she said instead.

“I took a little walk around before it was time to meet. Lots of ferns and old roses. Lovely stuff. But the roses haven’t been pruned in a long time and you could be getting far more blooms with a little tending. I might have to cut a few right to the ground to wake them up. Some of the other plants have gone leggy.

”It’ll take a lot of work to bring these grounds back, and I’ve got a lot of work in me.”

The housekeeper didn’t ask why the gardener’s previous work was odd jobs scattered across so many counties that it looked like she’d hung up a map in a pub and thrown a fistful of darts at it to build her resume. The housekeeper didn’t ask why the only reference the gardener could cough up was a coordinator from a youth rehabilitation programme (the gardener hadn’t spoken to the coordinator for a few years by then. She hoped that she was still at the same place and that she had good things to say, if she remembered the gardener at all).

Instead, the housekeeper looked at the gardener, really looked at her, and said:

“Yes. I believe you.”

Then

The gardener could spend hours removing dead leaves from plants, pulling them gently away with her fingers or pruning them when they weren’t quite ready to let go. For her, it was more than the simple satisfaction of clearing death away to make room for blooms. The gardener understood that dead leaves still draw energy. The plant will work just as hard to sustain what’s dead as new buds and leaflings. Pulling away the dead parts frees the plant to focus on living. That’s all customers cared about when they entered the shop: plants that seemed to be effortlessly brimming with life. They didn’t realize the work that went into it.

Under it all the gardener suspected that people weren’t so different from plants in that way. The trouble with people was that they tended to shield their hurt. They cupped their hands around it and held it close, as if something worse might happen if another person saw. Time and experience had granted her a practiced eye for the subtler signs of human pain. Heartbeat-quick hesitations. Disconnected gazes. Tensed fingers and unspoken words. People weren’t so different from plants, but plants were undoubtedly easier.

The gardener envied plants for their simple existence. She tried to be pragmatic, but she was no different from any other person. She carefully guarded her own anger and hurt (she was so fucking angry and there was nothing to fight) and set them aside, with the briefest nods of acknowledgement, to make room for another’s burden (it was never a burden, not really. She had never met hurt that she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to carry alongside her own). A heart was only four chambers after all, and the gardener would pack them full of everything that the au pair was afraid to feel if she could.

Sometimes the gardener caught herself wishing for the past, a different past, a version of their story where everything was exactly the same except that there was no darkness crouched inside the au pair. On days off she  took herself to the library and pored over microfiche. She made calls to strangers, recommended to her by the cook, trying to piece together a history that had gotten itself tangled up with theirs. She wished to understand, as if understanding might yield a different future. A future that wasn’t a slow and inevitable erosion of days.

But these wishes weren’t practical. They were snatching away minutes and hours. Her only option was to move forward. Each day felt won, perhaps unfairly, a watched pot and all that (the gardener never cared for the expression, but she did regard it nonetheless with a spirit of helpless hopefulness). If she was watchful, nothing might come to pass.

Before

Time passed in that inexorable way that was time’s habit. The gardener pulled her boots on before dawn, and she had hair tangled with sweat and dew, clothes and skin streaked with dirt by the time she found herself in the kitchen sharing tea with the cook and the housekeeper and the family if they were about. It wasn’t happiness, exactly, but it was comfortable. Whatever the gardener was caught in, it didn’t feel like forever, but it had a strange gravity that held her in place.

No, that wasn’t quite right. The manor had a strange push and pull, like a magnet flipping over, or the moon fickly pushing the tide and pulling it back on a tether.

That wasn’t it either.

It was like cigarettes. Like perhaps Bly might not be all that great for her health. And it didn’t exactly leave a pleasant taste. But if she was gone too long, she felt an itch to go back and dig her hands into it and if she didn’t pay attention she’d be into her second pack by noon. At this point in her life, the gardener felt few stakes in being tied to something that might be slowly burning days off of her time on Earth, but she admitted to herself that she did breathe more easily when she dropped off in her own bed each night. The housekeeper had sold her home to live on the grounds. The gardener understood the choice, but she couldn’t imagine it for herself. She didn’t have any reason powerful enough to keep her beyond the sun’s setting. It was too dark then for her to do her work.

She couldn’t place why she felt this way. After all, the family was darling and they fully lived at the manor. They treated her like an old friend and left her alone to do what she wished with the grounds. The children were good in that they were children who demanded nothing of her. She was an audience to their games and storytelling, and they gave her space without her having to ask.

Even so, she managed to carve out secret spaces, something assuredly hers and hers alone (she knew it couldn’t ever really be hers. Besides nature having no owner, the grounds were hers to nurture and nothing more). She found a spot near the edge of the property that was left wild and forested. It was a spot where she allowed herself to just exist. It was a spot where she could be lonely except for the tender night-blooming vines she exhaustively grew from seed every spring.

Then

Were the gardener to rewrite her story, it would go something like this:

There was once a gardener. She’d felt many things before she was lucky enough to feel love. She’d had more than a few regrets in her life, and she’d lost so much, but she never did lose that feeling of love once she’d found it.

Her story, stripped of details and evaporated to its essence, would be a love story.

But the truth was that the gardener would never want to rewrite her story. She knew that one day when she would do the washing up, the memory of shattered ceramic would be a monument. Every reflection would someday recall those first nervous touches and kisses so many years ago. Until then, she would comfort herself with the weight and warmth of the au pair asleep next to her, the reassurance that she was still there. Forgetting any moment felt like a betrayal. If anything, she felt like she should remember everything doubly, a copy to keep, and one to telegraph through her fingertips as they brushed along the au pair’s skin (memorizing this, too). Reminders for them both.

[knylinphd]

Their child had a nightmare | Headcanons

gender neutral

-> You are the mom/dad.

-> Muichiro Tokito, Sanemi Shinazugawa, Obanai Iguro, Giyuu Tomioka.

-> The child is gender neutral, and Muichiro is obviously older.

(C/N) is child’s name and they’re around 4.

Muichiro Tokito

You were gone for a mission, which wasn’t unusual. However, whenever you or Muichiro had to go on a mission and wasn’t back for the night, (C/N) was terrified. All the time.

And this night, they even had a nightmare about you not coming back. That’s why they ran to their dad’s room, jumping on the bed to hug him -waking him up in the process.

Seeing his child crying like that, Muichiro immediately straightened up, hugging them tightly. ‘’Hey, hey ! Why are you crying, what happened ?’’ He asked, rubbing their back to calm them down.

(C/N) finally managed to tell their dad what was going on, in-between loud sobs. Once he understood, Muichiro sighed, wiping his kid’s tears away. He kissed their forehead, playing with their hair.

‘’It’s okay, (C/N). It was just a nightmare. Mommy/daddy will come back, okay ?’’ Seeing his child not answering, Muichiro had an idea. ‘’Do you know what I used to do when I had nightmares and I was a little kid like you ?’’ He asked.

(C/N) shook their head no, and Muichiro picked them up, wrapping them around his blanket. ‘’I’ll show you. It’s outside, so I’m keeping you warm in this, okay ?’’ He asked, chuckling when he saw his child wasn’t able to move.

He walked outside, and hugged (C/N) to his side, showing them the sky. ‘’I used to look at the sky. I loved to look at the stars, and to find the constellations. It’s also because when people die, they’re in the sky. So I’m waving at all the dead people I know.’’ He said.

‘’Hi grandma and grandpa !’’ (C/N) shouted smiling, referring to Muichiro’s parents. ‘’I hope I’ll never have to wave at you or mommy/daddy.’’ Muichiro smiled. ‘’Me neither. But I hope that if one day, this happens, you’ll tell your own child to wave at us with you.’’

Sanemi Shinazugawa

You were on a mission, and Sanemi himself was worried, because he knew it wasn’t only a tiny mission about a random demon terrorizing a town. So he couldn’t really sleep.

That’s why, when he heard some footsteps, he opened his bedroom door, without even letting the chance for his child to knock first. ‘’You can’t sleep neither, hm ?’’ He asked, his child nodding.

‘’I had a nightmare, I wanted to sleep with you.’’ (C/N) replied, making Sanemi bit his lip. He took their hand, and started to walk to the kitchen. ‘’I have some tip for you.’’

Once they were in the kitchen, (C/N) sat, Sanemi getting some soup. ‘’Whenever I have a nightmare, mommy/daddy is making me something to eat. It tires me, and I end up falling asleep.’’ He explained.

He prepared a tiny mug of soup for his child, and one for himself. ‘’You still have nightmares ?’’ They asked, a bit intrigued. Their dad was a grown up and fought demons, how could he be scared of things ?

‘’Of course ! Even adults have nightmares sometimes.’’ He replied, starting to eat. ‘’But you’re a strong pillar !’’ (C/N) said, making Sanemi chuckle. ‘’Well, I’m still afraid sometimes. It’s normal. You just have to fight your own demons.’’ He said.

(C/N) giggled at the ‘demons’ expression, since their dad was fighting demons. Once they were done eating, Sanemi called his crow. ‘’What if we write a letter to mommy/daddy, hm ? So they’ll reply.’’ The pillar asked, his child agreeing.

After the letter got sent, (C/N) fell asleep, their head against the table. Sanemi chuckled and carried them to his bedroom. ‘’It’s okay. Tonight, we’re sleeping together.’’ He said, kissing their temple.

Obanai Iguro

Actually, Obanai awoken because of Kaburamaru. His snake was hissing in his ear, wrapping himself around him. He groaned, but Kaburamaru guided him out of his room.

Seeing that he was being led out of his room, Obanai decided to put on some bandages so if he had to see his child, they won’t see what was underneath. He they were still too young to see.

And he was right, since Kaburamaru showed him (C/N), sobbing in their bed. Obanai turned on the lights, and walked to them. ‘’Hey, why are you crying ?’’ He asked, sitting next to them in their bed.

‘’I had a nightmare !’’ They said, immediately hugging him. The snake pillar hugged them back, patting their back. ‘’Then why didn’t you come to tell us ? We wouldn’t have gotten mad, you know.’’ He said, calmly.

‘’Because you’re always called for missions, so I wanted to let you sleep.’’ The little kid said, making their dad’s heart ache. ‘’Awn, but you don’t have to, (C/N) ! Mommy/daddy and I will help you if you’re scared, mission or not !’’ Obanai said.

His child started to calm down, feeling their dad’s warmth against them. ‘’You’re talking like a big person already, (C/N) ! It’s really nice to think of mommy/daddy and I that way.’’ He said, congratulating them.

Their child nodded, and they agreed that they would tell either you or Obanai whenever they had a nightmare, instead of hiding it. After that, they finally told what was their nightmare about.

‘’You know that mommy/daddy won’t leave us for another family, baby...’’ The brunette started, as his child was really scared of you leaving them. ‘’Hey, do you want to sleep with them so you’ll see ?’’ Obanai asked. (C/N) was more than happy to sleep with you.

Giyuu Tomioka

Let’s be clear ; Giyuu never fully sleeps peacefully. He’s always aware. And that’s why when he heard a faint knock on the bedroom’s door, he walked to open it, being careful not to wake you up.

‘’(C/N) ? What’s going on ?’’ He said, immediately picking his child up to comfort them. ‘’I had a nightmare.’’ They replied, hugging their dad tightly.

‘’Do you want to tell me what it was about ?’’ Giyuu asked. His child nodded. ‘’Then, you’ll have to whisper, cause mom/dad is still sleeping.’’ He said, closing the door and tucking his child in his bed.

Indeed, whenever (C/N) had a nightmare, you were making them fall asleep in your room before putting them back in their own. And they were still young enough for you to keep doing this.

After Giyuu wiped his child’s tears away and started to caress their hair, (C/N) told him about their nightmare. Giyuu listened, kissing them here and there.

‘’You know that couldn’t happen, right ?’’ He asked, after they were done. ‘’Yes, but it was scary.’’ Seeing his child frown, Giyuu chuckled. ‘’I believe you.’’ He said, ruffling (C/N)’s hair.

You awoken after that movement, even if they were keeping their voices low. ‘’Did you have a nightmare, (C/N) ?’’ You asked, whispering. They nodded. ‘’Okay.’’ You said.

You caressed their hair before finding a comfortable position to fall back asleep, Giyuu rubbing your back to help you relax. Your child fell asleep in the process, hugging both you and their dad.

[holyhousehold786]

Know The Mahdi (a.s.)

Has Ghaybat been discussed in Quran?

Ghaybat has been discussed extensively in the Quran and in traditions of the Holy Prophet (sawa) and Aimmah (as).

According to traditions, Ghaybat was not for Imam Mahdi (as) alone. Allah has kept sufficient examples in previous prophets which include Hazrat Yunus (as), Hazrat Saleh (as), Hazrat Yusuf (as) who were hidden from the eyes of their nation for a long period of time.

In the Quran we find several verses which Aimmah explained that refer to Ghaybat. These verses have to be understood in the light of the traditions of Ahle Bayt (as).

This practice is as per the advice of the Holy Prophet of Islam (sawa) who said, “I leave behind two valuable things after me – the Quran and the Ahle Bayt (as). They will never be separated from each other till they reach me at the Pond of Kawthar.”

The Prophet (sawa) advised people to remain attached to both Quran and Ahle Bayt (as) to prevent deviation from religion.

Therefore it is imperative that we always refer to the words of the Ahle Bayt (as) while analysing any verse of the Quran.

The Ahle Bayt (as) are the ones blessed with the correct knowledge and interpretation of the Quran. Any analysis of the Quran without their input is worthless.

The discussion of Ghaybat is initiated right at the beginning of the Holy Quran.

Yahya bin (Abi) Qasem said,

“I asked Imam Sadiq (as) about the verse – “Alif Lam Mim. This Book, there is no doubt in it, is a guide to those who guard (against evil). Those who believe in the unseen and keep up prayer and spend out of what We have given them.”

(Surah Baqarah, verses 1-3).

The Imam (as) replied,

“Those who are pious” are the Shiahs of Ali. ‘The unseen’ is the Decisive Proof (Imam Mahdi) who will be in Ghaybat. The supporting evidence for this is the following verse, “And they say: Why is not a sign sent down to him from his Lord’ Say: ‘Verily, the unseen is only for Allah (to know) therefore wait; verily I am with you, among those who wait”

(Surah Yunus, verse 20)

The book “al-Muhajjah Fee Maa Nazala Ala Qaem al-Hujjah” by Sayyed Hashim Bahrani brings more than 120 verses from Quran which are regarding Imam Mahdi (as). The topic of Ghaybat has been discussed in Quran through different aspects:

Ghaybat is a period of examinations –

Surah Baqarah, verse 155

Companions of Imam (as) will also be tried –

Surah Baqarah, verse 249

Ghaybat was prophesied by Holy Prophet (sawa) –

Surah Nisa, verse 59

Ghaybat requires waiting and patience –

Surah Yunus, verse 20

Ghaybat will end suddenly –

Surah Mohammed, verse 18

Length of Ghaybat will harden the hearts of disbelievers –

Surah Hadid, verse 16

Ghaybat is by Allah and nobody can advance or postpone reappearance except Allah –

Surah Mulk, verse 30

Ghaybat is like the hiding of stars – Surah Takweer, verses 15-16

Ghaybat was found in other prophets too –

Surah Inshiqaq, verse 19

Time of Ghaybat requires enjoining patience –

Surah Asr, verse 1-3

Some of these verses and their explanation are given below

Surah Baqarah, verse 155 – Ghaybat is a Test for the Believers

Mohammed Ibne Muslim says that regarding the verse,

“And We will most certainly try you with somewhat of fear and hunger and loss of property and lives and fruits; and give good news to the patient”

(Surah Baqarah, verse 155),

Imam Sadiq said,

“Allah will test the believers with different trial before the rising of the Qaem.”

“What are the trials?” I asked. Imam replied: “We shall surely try you with something of fear, and hunger, and loss of wealth, and lives, and fruits; and give glad tidings to the patient ones”

“We shall surely try you” refers to the believers;

“with something of fear” refers to fear of the oppressive rulers – who will be the children of someone – in the last days of their reign;

“and hunger” refers to the inflation of prices;

“and loss of wealth” refers to the lack of profits business will earn;

“and lives” refers to sudden death;

“and fruits” refers to earning little from farming and reduction in the blessings of the harvest.

“And give glad tidings to the patient ones” means (that when you see these signs), “give glad tidings” about the rising of the Qaem.

Then Imam said, “O Mohammed! This is the Taweel (hidden interpretation) of these verse and as Allah says, None knows its hidden interpretation except Allah and those who are firmly rooted in knowledge”

(Surah Ale Imran, verse 7) (al-Ghaybah by Nomani, page 132)

Abu Baseer said Imam Sadiq (as) said,

“The year before the Qaem rises, the following will surely occur – people wil experience hunger, people will face extreme fear of being killed, and people will suffer loss of wealth, life and livelihood. Allah clearly explains this in His book,

“We shall surely try you with something of fear, and hunger, and loss of wealth, and lives, and fruits; and give glad tidings to the patient ones”

(Surah Baqarah, verse 155) (al-Ghaybah by Nomani, page 132)

Surah Nisa, verse 59 – Ghaybat was Prophesied by Holy Prophet (sawa)

Jabir Ibne Abdullah Ansari said, when the verse, “O you who believe! Obey Allah, and obey the Messenger and those vested with authority (by Allah) from among you” (Surah Nisa, verse 59) was revealed, I asked the Messenger of Allah (sawa) – O Messenger of Allah! We understood Allah and His Messenger but who are “those vested with authority (by Allah)” whose obedience Allah has paired with your obedience?

The Prophet (sawa) replied, O Jabir! They are my caliphs and they are the Imams of the Muslims after me. The first one is Ali Ibne Abi Talib, after him Hasan is the Imam, after him Husain, then Ali Ibne Husain, then Mohammed Ibne Ali, who is known in the Torah as Baqir. And you O Jabir, will meet him. So when you do, convey my salam to him.

After Mohammed Ibne Ali it is the truthful, Jafar Ibne Mohammed, then Musa Ibne Jafar, then Ali Ibne Musa, then Mohammed Ibne Ali, then Ali Ibne Mohammed, and then Hasan Ibne Ali.

After him, it will be the one who bears the same name and title as mine. He is Allah’s Decisive Proof (Hujjat) on His land and he is the Remainder of Allah (Baqiyatullah) on His creation. He is the son of Hasan Ibne Ali. Allah will achieve victory throughout His land through him. He is the one who will disappear from his Shiah and his lovers for (a period of time) during which only whose hearts Allah has tested, will stay steady in believing in his Imamate.

Jabir asked, “O Messenger of Allah! Will the Shiah benefit from him when he is in occultation?”

The Prophet (sawa) replied, Yes! I swear to He who sent me as a prophet, that they will. They will see with his light and benefit from his Mastership (wilayah) just like people benefit from the sun when it is behind the clouds. O Jabir! This is one of the secrets of Allah which is contained in His knowledge. Do not share it except with the right people.

Surah Takweer, verses 15-16 – Ghaybat is Like the Hiding of Stars

When Umm Haani asked Imam Baqir (as) regarding verse 16 from Surah Takweer, “But nay! I swear by the stars that run their course (and) hide themselves”, Imam (as) replied, “Yes, you have indeed asked a question, O Umm Haani. This verse is about the boy who will be born in the last era. He is the Mahdi from this progeny. There will be confusion pertaining to him and an occultation in which some groups will be deviated and others will be guided. Congratulations to you, if you find him and congratulations to anyone who finds him.’”

(Muntakhabul Asar chapter 38, footnote of tradition 614)

Surah Mohammed, verse 18 – Ghaybat Will End Suddenly

Mufazzal Ibne Omar said, I asked my master Imam Sadiq (as), “Is there a fixed time of which people are aware for the awaited Mahdi?” Imam (as) replied, “Allah forbids to a fix a time for him.”

I asked, “O my master! Why is that?”

Imam (as) replied, “Because it is the hour that Allah mentions in the verse, “They ask you about the hour: When is its fixed time? Say: Only my Lord has the knowledge. None shall manifest it at its time but He. Heavy shall it be in the heavens and the earth. It ill not come to you but suddenly. They ask you as if you are familiar with it. Say: Knowledge thereof is with Allah only. But most people do not know”

(Surah Aaraf, verse 187).

Allah says in this verse that He alone knows the time of “the hour.”

Allah says in (another) verse, “Do they wait for anything but the hour, that it may come on them all of a sudden? Its signs have (already) appeared. How can the reminder be of any use to them when it (the hour) has come to them?”

(Surah Mohammed verse 18).

Allah says in (another) verse, “The hour has come near and the moon is rent asunder”

( Surah Qamar, verse 1).

Allah says in (another) verse, “What shall make you know? It may be that the hour is near. Those who do not believe in it seek to hasten it, while those who believe are alert of it, and know that it is the truth. Beware! Verily those who dispute about the hour are (wandering) far astray”

(Surah Shurah, verses 17-18)

I asked, “O my master! What does “disputing about the hour” mean?”

Imam replied, They ask, “When was he (the Qaem) born? Who has seen him? Where is he? And when will he reappear?” They ask all of these questions because they seek to challenge it, wondering if it is the truth, for they doubt the Will and the Power of Allah. They are those who have lost their souls in this life and in the Hereafter. And verily for the disbelievers there is an evil place of final return.

I asked, “O my master! Then will you not appoint a time for him?” Imam replied, “O Mufazzal! Do not (seek to) appoint a time for him, because those who appoint a time for him (claim) to be partners with Allah in His knowledge and claim that Allah has revealed His knowledge and His secrets to them.” (al-Hidaya al-Kubra page 392)

Ghaybat is Established in Quran

The above verses are some amongst many verses in the Quran which talk about Ghaybat, that it will be a period of test for the believers, that many will be deviated due to their lack of faith and patience in its regard.

Shaykh Kulaini (ra) reports a tradition from Muffazal (ra), who narrates from Imam Sadiq (as),

“By Allah, your Imam will be hidden from you for a long time till it will be said – where has he gone? Has he been killed? Or has he died? Or has he been destroyed? .. and you will be tested in such a manner that tears will flow from the eyes of believers who are grieved with his separation. Troubles and difficulties will afflict you in such a manner as a ship is trapped in a storm. Then except for those who are firm in their pledge with Allah and whose faith has been established and engraved in their hearts, nobody else will be saved.”

(al-Kafi, Book of Divine Proof, chapter of Ghaybat)

May Allah guide us in this difficult period and allow our hearts to remain firm on the path of Ahle Bayt (as) during Ghaybat and also at the time of reappearance of Imam Mahdi (as). Ameen!

[artificialqueens]

Blue Neighborhood Series: LOST BOY + for him. (Jaida-centric) - Mac

AN: Thanks to Alex for betaing and thanks to you all for sticking with me as this update took a while. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Summary: Jaida is still reeling from the events of Widow’s birthday party, but she doesn’t have time to process as Homecoming is on the horizon.

The week leading up to Homecoming, Jaida did her best to act as if nothing had changed.

She attended class, ate lunch with her teammates, went to practice, drove home, did her work, and went to bed.

She was structured. Followed her routine.

Nothing had changed.

Except her secret was out.

Granted, only out to a handful of people, most of whom didn’t care enough to spread gossip like that. But there was no guarantee that they wouldn’t go flaunting her business to the entire school.

And that’s what ultimately worried her.

Every whisper in the hallway had her straining her ear to listen. Each snicker made her wince. It was like her body was on high alert and she had to do everything in her power to pretend it wasn’t.  

She hardly even noticed when last period rolled around, reflexively sighing as the familiar screech of the intercom sounded.

Jan’s voice rang out, chipper and bright as ever.

It was a small comfort.

“Good afternoon!”  Jaida could hear her smile through the static. “I know everyone is anxious for the Homecoming court nominees, so we’ll start with that. But first-”

Jaida poorly concealed an eye roll. In the midst of all her personal drama, she had almost forgotten entirely about the dance.

“Like previous years, Eastview recognizes the student body as a whole is diverse and not everyone fits into gendered roles, so we will, as we have in the past, refer to the winners as Homecoming Royalty rather than King or Queen!”  

There was some shuffling as the intercom was passed around, Bryce’s voice suddenly ringing in the small classroom.

“Without further ado,” he boomed. “The nominees for our 2020 Homecoming court are…” He paused dramatically, causing a few people to groan. “Nicky Doll, Jan Sport, Jaida Essence Hall, Gigi Goode, Bryce Eilenberg, Wilson Lai,  Jason Carter, and Mark Manio.”

Jaida felt herself exhale.

“Congrats to all our nominees! Reminder to everyone that you can go in and vote through the student portal for Homecoming royalty now. We look forward to seeing everyone at the dance this Friday!”

Jaida tuned out the rest of the announcements. Though she smiled politely whenever her peers stopped to congratulate her, she had ultimately zoned out, instead focusing on outlining a new defensive play to run during practice.

Her teammates didn’t comment on her subdued nature, probably out of fear. They simply nodded when she gave instructions, hustled around the court, jumped when she said jump. The usual.

The gym was a welcome relief from the rest of the school. It was a comfort thing, sure, but mostly it acted as a representation for everything she was good at.

Here, in the 94 by 50 foot court, she was somebody.

She didn’t have to think. Everything was reflexes and power and speed. No mistake she made couldn’t be fixed by practicing a hundred hours.

No mistake was permanent.

Her body was mendable. She could make it do whatever she wanted.

She wrapped up practice as she always did, with the order of ten laps around the court and a high five to each of her girls. They filed off into the locker room one by one, but Jaida lingered a bit, her mind still mulling over the events of the past few days.

She found her eyes trailing down to the area of skin above the bend in her elbow. The black ink of the fresh tattoo still took her off guard. It hadn’t fully healed yet, and there were traces of irritation around the black dots that made up the letters. She sighed as she ran her fingers over the raised skin, memories of Widow’s birthday party flashing behind her eyes.

One such image stuck out among all the others though, and she felt bile rise in her throat at the thought.

Before the churning in her stomach could get worse, she started running.

She felt her body take over as she threw herself around the court at lighting speed. Lap after lap after lap. Her brain only passively aware that she was moving because of the beads of sweat making their way from her hairline to the small of her back.

Jaida only slowed when she noticed a figure at the edge of the court.

Gigi stood calmly under the net, hair styled, posture set, unabashedly staring as Jaida rounded a corner.

It was strange.

After hiding for so long, Gigi simply looking at her felt dangerous.

Jaida slowed to a walk several feet in front of the cheerleader, taking cautious steps closer.

The corner of Gigi’s mouth quirked up playfully. “So, you gonna ask me to Homecoming, Allstar?” She batted her eyes in a manner that would have, under normal circumstances, had Jaida chomping at the bit to press her against the nearest flat surface.

As it was, with the memory of Gigi’s frazzled appearance and Jackie’s smug smile burned into her retinas, Jaida couldn’t help but bite back a scoff at the notion.

“Thought you had a date,” she muttered, venom in her words.

Gigi’s smile vanished; her eyes fell to the floor. “Not anymore.”

“Oh? You’re too good for her too?” Jaida couldn’t help the bitterness from seeping out, her arms coming to cross in front of her chest defensively.

Gigi’s eyes flashed darkly, but the glint of anger passed just as suddenly as it appeared. “I’ll take that as a no, then.”

Jaida set her mouth in a line, unwilling to give Gigi any more of an inkling into how she felt.

Gigi hesitated a moment, her previously icy posture melting a bit as her eyes searched Jaida’s face for… something.

“Is it Jan?” She finally asked.

“Is what Jan?”

“Why you can’t look at me?”

Jaida nearly choked on her own spit.

Gigi nodded once. Firmly. With finality.

And turned on her heel.

…

Friday came faster than Jaida would have liked.

Luckily for her, Widow had reached out the day after the nominations, almost as if she knew what Jaida was going through, and had offered a spot in their Homecoming group.

Jaida had accepted gratefully, thankful, because her only other option had been to go alone, seeing as her teammates all had made plans weeks ago.

She still wasn’t thrilled about the whole prospect of Homecoming, knowing that it was mostly an excuse for people to get drunk and party after a school-sanctioned event. Seeing as the most recent party she attended had ended so poorly, she wasn’t eager for a repeat.

Still, she was glad to be involved, even if she loathed herself for it.

It was something she had tried and failed to explain in the past. She was grateful, absolutely. The opportunities she had been offered, the friends she had made, her damn college tuition had all been made possible through basketball and her quasi-stardom. She wasn’t ignorant to the power she held. She just didn’t see it the same way other people did. That’s what Widow still couldn’t understand. It wasn’t fun to have the reputation of the school on your shoulders at all times. It was exhausting.

Jan understood.

Jaida figured that’s why it was so easy with her. They both held the weight of everyone’s expectations on their shoulders so constantly that it became a part of who they were. They prided themselves on never breaking a sweat, even when the unyielding pressure was too much to bear.

They saw it as strength, even if deep down they knew better.

The stress and pressure had taken over Jaida’s life so completely that she was scared of who she’d become without it.

So she set her shoulders and forced a smile when she arrived at Widow’s doorstep right at 8:30, dress bag thrown over a muscular forearm.

Widow had swung the door open wide, hair tied up in a towel, practically naked. But she acted like this was totally normal as she let Jaida in, leading her down the familiar hallway to the kitchen.

There were two other figures lounging about in various states of undress.

The guy, Joey, or Joe, Jaida remembered Widow calling him, was leaned against the counter, hip cocked out to the side, toothy grin set in the lines on his face.

He was handsome.

In that classically charming way that most men with two brain cells and a non-threatening demeanor were.

And then there was Dahlia.

She was perched atop the kitchen counter smiling widely at something Widow’s boyfriend had said when she made eye contact with Jaida.

Her expression changed instantly, face falling along with her gaze.

Jaida tried not to let it outwardly phase her. She still hadn’t figured out how she felt about Dahlia. The instance at the party being one of the only experiences she’d had with the younger girl. Granted, during said experience, Dahlia had gone out of her way to attack Jan and ended up being one of the driving forces that exposed her and Gigi.

But there was something else that Jaida couldn’t quite place. A motive.

Which made the whole thing ridiculously more complicated, and Jaida really didn’t want to get into all of it right then.

So she brushed it off to the best of her abilities and gave a small nod in Dahlia’s direction.

An understanding passed between them as the younger girl shot her an appreciative look before letting the tension in her shoulders dissipate.

The four of them lounged about the house for a solid half-hour before even attempting to begin the arduous process of getting ready. In all honesty, Jaida hadn’t been prepared for the event that her counterparts made dressing up, and she was taken completely off guard when they both insisted on doing her hair and makeup.

Jaida relented after a bit of teasing and let the two take over, grumbling just enough as they poked and prodded every inch of her face.

That, coupled with the fact that Widow and Dahlia had to get ready themselves, was just one of the many reasons they pulled into the parking lot of the school nearly two hours after the dance started.

Jaida’s group didn’t seem to mind though, Widow and Joe leading the way into the school, giggling into each other’s space all the while. Jaida found herself smiling at their antics, something about the uncomplicated nature of their relationship was refreshing to be around.

When they entered the school, Jaida managed to avoid having her picture taken, smoothly slipping away from the rest of her group in an attempt to orient herself.

It was just as well seeing as Widow began berating the school’s hired photographer about angles and lighting and a million other things Jaida couldn’t comprehend.

The basketball star couldn’t help but smile slightly at the decorations that covered every inch of the gym. The theme had been Underwater Ball, which Jan had despised since the moment it was chosen.

Jaida couldn’t count the number of times she had to listen to the student body president complain about how blue washed her out and how unethical the whole fishing industry was.

But for however much Jan hated the theme, she had done a damn good job with the decorations. Floor to ceiling cardboard waves acted as a background to the literal hundreds of hand-drawn fish cutouts. Not to mention the life-size mermaid statues that lined the dance floor. Projectors on either side made the waves look realistic as they moved with the non-existent tide. Seaweed pillars lined the stage in the center of the gym.

And Jaida’s personal favorite touch, the seafood puns.

Claw and Order Crab Cakes

Kriller Punch

As Jaida’s eyes roamed the impressive setup, she caught sight of some familiar faces.

Nicky and Jackie were smack dab in the middle of the dance floor, throwing their heads back, eyes shut, dancing like lunatics. They commanded attention. Nicky, with her natural grace, and Jackie with her unending magnetism.

Heidi and Crystal swayed nearby, giggling at their pair of friends and chatting with… Brita, who looked to be having the time of her life.

Jadia wasn’t really up to date with all the cliques, but the grouping seemed unusual.

She shrugged it off and continued scouting out the rest of the space, catching Aiden and Rock out of the corner of her eye. The two girls had managed to get to the very top of the collapsed bleachers and were looking out at the mass of bodies.

Then there was Jan, surrounded by a crowd of smiling faces, and Bryce at her side. A casual onlooker wouldn’t question the scene in the slightest, but Jaida could see Jan’s hand tensing around her cup at the proximity.

And then there was Gigi, standing alone against the far wall, covered head to toe in dazzling silver, her dress reflecting the pulsing lights.

She looked like a sexy disco ball. And also like she’d been crying.

Jaida hated that her stomach twisted at the thought.

No matter how hard she tried, and Lord knows how hard she tried, Jaida couldn’t let Gigi go. It wasn’t even fondness anymore, it was all of it. The whole stupid fucking lot of it. The sex and the feelings and the closeness that shook Jaida to her very core.

She craved Gigi with every ounce of her being.

Her heart beat in time with Gigi’s careful steps; the click-clack of heels against linoleum floors.

But before Jaida could fall into another endless spiral of feelings and self-loathing, there was a voice ringing out over the speakers calling for all the Homecoming Royalty nominees to come to the stage.

Jaida felt herself follow the lead of the other nominees onto the stage. She squinted at the harsh spotlights, feeling the familiar itch on her skin that meant people were looking at her. It wasn’t wholly unpleasant, just… noticeable.

She took a moment to breathe in and out and survey her competition.

Nicky up first in a gorgeous black and white pantsuit, looking like the epitome of French fashion. Jan to her left, sunshine yellow dress complimenting the brilliant smile she wore. Jaida’s own form fitting red dress pooling around her ankles like water. And Gigi in her silver shining dress that hugged her sides the way Jaida’s hands itched to.

The nominees stood hand in hand, some holding their breath, others rolling their eyes internally as the room went dead silent. The seconds ticked by like hours, but Jaida felt Jan squeeze her hand a split second before the announcement came.

“Jaida Essence Hall and Jan Sport!”

Jaida smiled reflexively as her heart sank in her chest.

She turned to pull a beaming Jan into her arms. The first physical contact they’d had since the party. And that knowledge alone lit something up inside of Jaida, but before either of them could say anything more than a simple congrats, there were sashes and crowns and the booming voice calling for students to clear the floor.

Jaida rolled her eyes at the extra-ness of it all, but Jan elbowed her in the side and she couldn’t help but break out into a giggle.

She offered a hand out to Jan, who smiled adorably as she took it, leading them down the stairs of the stage and into the center of the gym.

Jaida let her hands find Jan’s hips, while Jan’s arms wrapped around the back of Jaida’s neck.

Jaida couldn’t help a grin as a corny love song began to play from the speakers. Jan blushed prettily and teased her about it, but Jaida didn’t care.

She and Jan swayed for what felt like ages. Hands and bodies wrapped around each other.

They fit.

Body and soul they fit.

“You’ve got an admirer,” Jan whispered, nodding her head over Jaida’s shoulder.

The Allstar player turned her head and caught sight of Gigi staring daggers at the pair of them. She quickly looked away when she was caught, then pushed herself off the wall where she had been leaning, storming over to Nicky and pulling the other girl out the gym doors.

“How are you?” Jan’s tone was serious, but her eyes were soft.

Jaida chuckled and shook her head.

“What?”

“Nothing I just-” Jaida smiled. “You never say what I expect you to.”

“Thanks?”

“It’s a compliment.” Jaida insisted, inching that much closer to Jan. “Most people would be tryin’ to get information about all that.” She nodded in Gigi’s direction.

Jan shrugged. “I’m not gonna lie and say I’m not curious, but you’d tell me if you needed to.”

Jaida nodded. “Thank you, Jan.”

Jan smiled sadly as Jaida’s movements began to slow.

“For everything.”

Their careful swaying came to a stop and Jaida reached up to hold Jan’s hands in her own. “But I can’t-”

“It’s okay.” Jan stopped her, cupping Jaida’s face gently with one hand. “I won’t take it personally.”

Jaida smiled sadly at her own words echoing back at her. She couldn’t fight the rush of emotion that filled her chest the longer she stayed fixed in place, breathing in Jan’s presence.

So she didn’t.

She let it wash over her in one ceaseless crash after another.

And then Jan let her go.

…

Jaida found Gigi and Nicky leaning up against the side of the school, cigarettes held loosely between red lips. Gigi coughed on every inhale, but the fire in her eyes kept her cigarette from going out.

Jaida approached the pair cautiously, careful to not trip over her dress.

The cheerleader tensed as she came closer, while Nicky looked between them warily.

“Gigi, can we talk?” Jaida asked, letting a bit of her frustration out in her tone.

Gigi swallowed around a cough and glared. “What? Still don’t wanna be seen with me?”

Jaida rolled her eyes, the past month’s worth of frustration and hurt spilling over. She didn’t think twice before pulling Gigi into a forceful kiss that they both felt in their toes. Gigi melted into the contact, fiery exterior melting away the longer Jaida’s lips pressed to hers.

They hadn’t ever properly kissed before, but it didn’t seem to matter, their mouths meeting in time, breath synching up almost subconsciously.

When they finally parted, resting their foreheads together, Nicky was nowhere to be found.

They didn’t speak as Jaida interlaced their fingers and led Gigi silently away from the school.

They climbed into Jaida’s truck, neither mentioning how this was the first time Gigi had sat in the passenger seat. They drove and drove and drove, Jaida’s eyes fixed on the road ahead of them, rather than the pit growing in her stomach. But Gigi’s warm hand on her thigh grounded her, kept her head from flying too far away from her shoulders.

Jaida’s mind was empty as the jet black road narrowed, leading up and up and up into the mountains just outside of town.

The Allstar chanced a look over at her passenger seat. She couldn’t read Gigi’s expression as the wind whipped her previously pristine hair into a tangle of blonde strands. The shimmer of her dress still reflected the sparse streetlights as they raced around countless switchbacks.

She looked beautiful.

Jaida pulled over at the next lookout point. Only when she turned the key did she notice she had been holding her breath.

They sat in the silence for a beat before Jaida felt herself stir, exiting the vehicle and hopping down onto thinly milled gravel.

Body on autopilot, she lowered the back hatch and crawled into the bed of her truck, ignoring the way her dress pulled at the seams from the movement. She offered a hand out to Gigi and the two sat against the back window.

Gigi curled to her side as if knowing this would be the last time she could, head fitted neatly on Jaida’s shoulder, the easy intimacy making the older girl’s stomach churn.

They didn’t say anything for a long while, Gigi running her fingers over the exposed skin of Jaida’s arms, Jaida staring at the stars like they would provide some answer to their predicament.

“This is it, huh?” Gigi finally whispered into the darkness, all anger and malice gone from her words.

Jaida felt her chest tighten.

“We’ve hurt too many people already.”

“So hurting us is gonna change that?”

Jaida shook her head and was surprised to find herself blinking back tears all of a sudden. “No,” she conceded, “but you know we can’t keep doing this.”

Gigi chuckled bitterly. “If I had a nickel for every time you said that.”

“It’s different now,” Jadia insisted.

“Because you can’t stand to be seen with me?” Gigi bit out. “You could do a lot worse, you know.”

Jaida sighed. “Gigi-”

The cheerleader cut her off with a gentle touch to Jaida’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.” She looked down to her hands, fingers flexing against the fabric of Jaida’s dress anxiously.

Jaida shook her head. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have started this in the first place.”

“I didn’t stop you.”

No, she hadn’t.

She didn’t know Gigi was in a relationship when they started their… arrangement. She assumed. Hell, Gigi looked like that, she must have had people lining up left and right for a chance with her. Jaida assumed there was someone in the picture, but she hadn’t cared. She was frustrated and burned out and it was only their sophomore year. She wanted to be reckless, screw the consequences. And that had worked out fine for a while. They fucked and pretended to be perfect strangers if anyone asked.

But one night, Jaida was shooting the ball around outside her house, attempting to perfect her three-point shot, when she caught sight of Gigi through the window. She had her head in her hands, brow knit in frustration over an open textbook on her desk. It was a completely ordinary scene. Nothing magical in the least.

And yet something took root in Jaida’s chest then, something she was never able to voice aloud.

Suddenly their hurried sessions between respective practices felt different.

Jaida had done her best to push it aside. Gigi was supposed to be her reprieve from thinking. She was supposed to be like basketball, muscle memory.

She didn’t know what to say. She could still barely process her own thoughts, let alone verbalize them.

“I’m-” She started, but Gigi pressed a delicate finger to her lips, face scrunched up in a wince, like Jaida’s words caused her pain.

“Me too.”

The air between them stilled. The only noises audible were the crickets in the distance and Jaida’s pounding heart.

Eventually, Gigi shifted up on her hands, draping herself over Jaida’s body slowly. She began trailing kisses up the length of Jaida’s exposed neck.

Jaida tensed at the contact.

“Let me,” Gigi whispered, breathing shaky. “Please.”

They hadn’t done this a lot. Their rendezvous usually focused on Gigi’s pleasure, seeing as she was the one that could go home after, but she had persuaded Jaida a few times in the past to let her explore.

Jaida always felt exposed afterward, laid bare. Raw.

Jaida met her gaze warily, but the sheer panic in Gigi’s eyes was what finally did it.

After a beat, she nodded.

Gigi’s lips curved up at the sides. It wasn’t a smile. Not by the half. Because it didn’t warm Jaida’s chest from the inside out the way Gigi’s smiles usually did.

She traced lines of muscle with her tongue, breathed words Jaida couldn’t hear against her skin, marking it as her own.

Jaida felt her skin itch like it didn’t belong to her anymore. If she were being honest she knew in her heart it never had been hers.

It had always been Gigi’s.

Before long, Jaida was panting open-mouthed into the thrumming night air as Gigi’s fingers made sharp circles over her clit, pulling the older girl closer and closer to the edge with every gasping breath.

Gigi pressed herself closer, her mouth to Jaida’s neck, her chest to her stomach. Jaida felt like she was on fire and her mind was blank and full at the same time and it was all too much and then Gigi spoke.

“Tell me you loved me.”

She sounded far too coherent for Jaida’s current mental state to process.

But she couldn’t think about that, couldn’t think much of anything because she was so close and so torn up inside.

“Gigi-”

The cheerleader cut her off, pulling her head back so Jaida could see her teary eyes.

“Lie to me.”

Jaida shut her eyes tightly, unable to look at Gigi directly anymore. She let out a shaky exhale as Gigi resumed her ministrations.

“I still do,” Jaida whispered into the night air.

[paceywittergayboatman]

Pacey and Dawson  Gay Subtext at end of Dawson creek season 6

The last two episodes of Dawson's Creek don't make sense if you view without queer subtext. Meaning from a subtextual point of view it isn't what happened in Dawson's creek rather Dawson's tv show. And while that something worth explaining it's not what this meta is about. However, I am not here to talk about that rather the two episodes before that and two scenes of pacey and Dawson that directly address the gay subtext.

In the first scene I am gong to talk about which is in episode 6 21. Pacey has revealed that he lost Dawson’s money and gay chaos occurs.

Pacey: Actually, Jo, um... why don't you hang out for a second, 'cause you're gonna have to hear this sooner or later anyway. 

Dawson: What's goin' on? Are you ok?

 Pacey: Man, and we were just gettin' back to be friends, too. It's such a shame to ruin that. Dawson: What are you talking about? What would ruin it? 

Pacey: Money. Money would ruin it. 

Dawson: W-what happened?

 Pacey: It's gone. Your money's gone, my money's gone, some guy on long island's money is gone—

 Dawson: What--what do you mean gone? That was all the money that I had. 

Pacey: I know it was, Dawson, and I honestly thought Stepatech was gonna take off, I swear to you. 

Dawson: Right. Yeah, o-of course. Otherwise why would you blatantly ignore my request to sell the stock?

 Pacey: Man, I was just tryin' to do the right thing.

 Dawson: Ah, damn it, Pacey, this— [Joey is standing awkwardly in the middle of this looking back from one to the other with tears beginning to well up in her eyes] 

Dawson: [Dawson sighs] You're always tryin' to do the right thing. You're always so eager to be the hero, you never quite see all the pieces of the puzzle.

One of Pacey's character flaws is that he wants to save everyone because he never felt safe at home as a child and Dawson who has known him since he was ten knows this very well. Also, he referring to when Pacey dated Joey and broke his heart.

 Pacey: Dawson... you came to me with your dream because you thought I could help make something of it, and somehow this comes back yet again to the fact that I screwed you over? 

Joey: Ok, you know what, you two? Let's just stick to the topic at hand. Ok, so we can just solve this problem by going inside and trying to get calm... and we'll talk about it.

 Dawson: Joey, talking about this is not gonna solve anything. 

Joey hasn't quite figured out Dawson and Pacey are having a lovers quarrel and just wants them to get along.

Joey: What are you talking about? 

Pacey: He means it's not about money. So fine then, let's just talk about what's really goin' on here. 

Joey: You know what? I see no reason to drudge up baggage from the past just to fill in the moment, Pacey. I mean, let's remember something. This exchange between you and Dawson is purely a business exchange, and I think we need to remember to keep it at that. 

Dawson: She's right. It is business between us, 'cause god knows we haven't been best friends in a long time, have we? 

Pacey: No, we certainly have not. 

Dawson: You wanna know why we're not friends, pace? It's not because of what happened with Joey, even though that turned my world upside down. It's because from that day forward, I realized that you hadn't been my friend for... maybe quite some time, 'cause the second you made us competitors— 

The first, really important thing here is that Pacey dating Joey turned Dawson's world upside down. Dawson is kinda saying here that compulsory heterosexuality made them competitors. But also that they lived their lives trying to reach higher achievements than the other. Although I don't think this is true. I think Pacey thinks of Dawson as the man he's eternally trying to be better than so he doesn't have to admit he's in love with Dawson.

Pacey: That I made us competitors? No. No. Now--now you're rewriting history, Dawson. 

Dawson: I remember when my best friend had a choice and chose to turn his back on me. If you'd ever stopped settin' us up against each other, you woulda realized that you and I are not that far apart.

Pacey really broke his heart he betrayed Dawson in Dawson’s eyes. He just reiterating what I said early about being competitors.

 Pacey: Ah, spare me the speech. You are not gonna convince me that our world's... are anything alike. You're just upset because I broke outta mine. 

Dawson: Broke out of yours? How? By putting on a suit and slavin' away at something that doesn't even interest you? You made money. Congratulations. You impressed us all. 

The putting on a suit line is reference to the way Pacey’s job is referred to a costume as in performance of Heterosexuality specifically under a capitalist environment.

Pacey: How dare you. You know nothing about me, man. I was good at my job. 

Dawson: Then why am I broke?

 Pacey: Because that's life! I didn't make that choice! I have lost, literally, everything! What do you want from me, man? Does this make you happy, that you're back on top now? I mean, you always liked it better when you were in charge, so is this what you wanted? Does this make it all right? 

Dawson can be controling and self centered and Pacey knows that very well. Also you always liked it better when you were in charge has homoerotic undertones.

Dawson: You don't wanna know me, pace. You wrote me off a long time ago. 

Pacey: Really? Really? Back when we were the best of friends? When we were brothers? Was I just outta the house every time you tried to call me over the last 3 years? 

Again Pacey broke Dawson heart by dating joey

Joey: Ok, can you guys just stop it? I can't stand here and listen to you guys do this anymore

. Pacey: I didn't mean to lose your money. I didn't know that that would happen. I'm sorry. 

Dawson: Yeah, so am I. This-- this was just a big mistake from the beginning, I guess.

 Pacey: Heh. Ok.

One more very importamt scene from this episode. Joeys goes to talk to Pacey after the fight.

Joey: You ok, Pace? 

Pacey: You don't have to do this.

 Joey: Do what? 

Pacey: Sit out here with me. I know you'd rather be in the house with Dawson, so why do you just go and help him lick his wounds? 

Joey: Things never change here, do they?

 Pacey: No... because these are the roles we were destined to play. 

The roles he refering to our heterosexuality.

Joey: No, Pace, these are the roles we chose to play. I mean, look at us, sitting out here on this dock in front of the same house we've been haunting for years. We're practically ghosts of our former selves, and honestly, I don't think anyone really remembers what they're mad about anymore. 

Joey saying some very important things in here. One that the theses roles(heterosexuality) are things that they are choosing because then they don’t have to admit there gay. However I don’t quite she understood that Pacey broke Dawson’s heart.

Pacey: Mm, I wouldn't be so sure about that.

Pacey is still thinking like a straight man.

 Joey: Pacey, if I wanted to go back into that house, I would've gone a long time ago. Don't you know me at all by now?

 Pacey: Well, I don't want you sitting here feeling sorry for me. Joey: I don't feel sorry for you. I feel for you, Pacey. 

Pacey: [Sighs] Joey: God, can't you ever tell the difference? 

Pacey: I don't know. [Sighs] I don't know, because you and I have had a very confusing run of things. Especially lately. 

Joey: [Scoffs] Ok. You know, and no matter how much I love you or how long I stay with you, you're only gonna remember the moments when I leave.

 Pacey: Well, you gotta give me that much, because those are pretty much the most painful moments in my life. 

Joey: That's because you ask for them, Pacey. I'm sorry. You do. Your whole life, you spend so much time expecting the worst that you don't even notice the moments when people are loving you, and, Pacey, people spend a lot of time loving you. 

Pacey: Well... with all due respect, Jo, my best friend just walked away from me, but that's not even the worst of it. The worst thing is he hasn't even really known me for the last 3 years, so please, clarify that for me. How does that qualify me as a man with a support network? 

 Thing haven’t been the same since Dawson broke Paceys heart. Joey doesn’t even matter if he cant have Dawson.

Joey: Well, you have a person sitting right here, don't you? But of course, that's not enough. Not until you let it. 

She never be enough because he’s in love with Dawson

Pacey: In what world do I have you? Joey: Look, just because I don't fit into that... place you want me to doesn't mean there's not a place for me, Pacey. 

Pacey: [Sighs]

 Joey: Does it? 

Pacey: Joey, this isn't your fight, anyway. Joey: You're right. You're right. It's not my fight because it's been over for a really long time, Pacey, [Sighs] And it is up to you to make it right. 

She telling him to go fight for Dawson. He needs to repair his relatonship with Dawson.

Pacey: I don't know how to make it right. 

Joey: Well, you're gonna have to figure it out. You know, that's the thing about ghosts. They say that... they don't leave until they're at peace with what they left undone.

So now were on to the last scene of 621 in which Pacey and Dawson talk. Pacey has collected money for Dawson’s movie.

Scene: The ruins. Dawson is there waiting, when Pacey comes walking up and notices Dawson and knows that he has been duped. And goes to walk over to join Dawson.] 

Pacey: Hey. Dawson: Hey. What are you doin' here?

 Pacey: Uh, the same thing you are, I'd suppose.

 Dawson: Actually, I came here to meet— Pacey: Meet with Joey? Yeah, so did I. 

Dawson: I get it. [Sighs] Joey potter: Amateur peace broker. 

Pacey: [Sighs] Dawson: So where is she?

 Pacey: I don't know, but I'd say that she is probably not coming. I think she has this kooky notion that you and I are gonna work this out between ourselves. 

Dawson: Well, that's... not gonna happen. 

Pacey: Yeah, I know. That's what I told her, but we're talkin' about a girl who's never really listened to a single word that either you or I has ever told her, and I did, I said it to her, I said, "look, Jo, things will never be the same between Dawson and I." She doesn't listen to me. You know her, she's stubborn, that girl.

 Dawson: [Sighs] Well, if she's not comin', I'm gonna take off. I've got somewhere to be. 

Pacey: Hold on for one second. [Sighs] Look, you said some pretty crappy things the other day. 

Dawson: Yeah. So did you. 

Pacey: Yes, I did. And I meant them 100%.

 Dawson: I know, so did I, pace, and that's the thing, I don't know how we get past that. 

Pacey: Well, maybe we don't. Maybe that's the point that we just don't get past it, we realize that... we can't go back to the way things used to be, and there's nothing we can do about that 'cause the guys that we are now are worlds apart from the guys that we were back then. The only tie that really binds us together is the fact that we still love the same woman.

So the bottom line of what Pacey saying is that they aren’t the same kids who broke each other hearts. Also the line about the same woman is the compulsory heterosexaltiy talking.

 Dawson: [Sighs] It always comes back to that, doesn't it?

 Pacey: Yes, it does. Yes, it does, and you know what? I don't really regret a single second that I spent with her, and I'm guessing you don't either. In fact, I really consider us pretty lucky... that a--a woman like that would give either one of us the time of day.

They love her she there bestfriend. And there honored to love her and have her in there lives.

 Dawson: You know, it makes sense.

 Pacey: What does? 

Dawson: Why it never worked out for either one of us. All we wanted was her. So much so that we destroyed our friendship... and in the end, all she ever wanted was for us to be friends again. 

Joey is a lesbian and was never interested  in either of them romantically. They  were suffering do to comphet and convinced themselves they wanted her.  They were in love and Pacey broke Dawson’s heart by dating Joey.

Pacey: Ok, I'm gonna ask you this once, and then I promise you I'll never ask it again. Is it possible?

 Dawson: For us to be friends again? [he thinks then smiles] Anything's possible.

Everytime Dawson and Pacey get in a gay fight they do the interaction above. It’s cute but its also flirty and it reads as can we get back to together more than can we be friends. They love each other and even though they fight they never really give up on there love. Anything’s possible is kind of like there cute little make up thing they do when they fight.  The use of anything implys never ending and by extension an eternal love. It’s romantic and also in the actually scene they have eye sex and its very gay. This like them admiting that there in love, they removed Joey from the context of there own relationship and basically said there love is eternal its a great ending to there relationship.

 Pacey: Fair enough. Look, uh, this is for you. [Pacey hands Dawson the envelope with the money.] 

Dawson: What's this? Pacey: Well, I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of going to several local businessmen and asking them if they'd like to invest in a very promising young filmmaker, and, by and large, they were all very receptive, though there was this one dentist, and I don't know how she got this in her head, but she seems to think she's an actress, so you might have to give her a little role, like a cameo at most. Just warnin' ya. 

Dawson: Thank you. Pacey: Don't mention it.

So we end the story of Pacey and Dawson on three important points :Joey is a lesbian, Pacey and Dawson are forever in love and they don’t need have the relationship they had when they were kids they can just be boyfriends.