#is it just the Spectacle of making something that Could be eaten but won’t. I don’t get the appeal of that !

[the-meme-monarch]

it's silly but i was honestly kinda heartbroken when I found out that The Chocolate Guy amaury guichon 's stuff he makes in his videos doesn't get eaten and I haven't been able to watch his videos since then. he's got like a chocolate museum and they just get put there. you made a sculpture and yeah that rules but the appeal is that It's All Chocolate the appeal is that It's Edible but nobody gets to eat it. willy wonka would never willy wonka Get this man

[delicioussshame]

Too long for tumblr, too bad to be posted by itself on AO3, have this ABO future AU where LBH and SY never got together.

There is always something bittersweet about Shizun visiting.

Luo Binghe loves having him here. He loves that Shizun obviously feels comfortable enough around him that he doesn’t mind being in the demon realm, away from allies and friends.

He hates knowing that no matter how pleasant their time together was, Shen Qingqiu will eventually leave to return to his bamboo house.

He tries to put that last thought out of his mind and just enjoy his shizun’s company.

It’s just that there is something else going on today. Something that is incommoding Shizun. He keeps twitching as if he can’t sit still. His skin has a pinker shade than usual. His gaze sometimes lingers on Luo Binghe in a way that is very hard to ignore.

Luo Binghe does all he can to do so anyway. Why raise his hopes up at this point?

When his usually graceful shizun manages to send a cup rolling, spilling tea over the table, Luo Binghe cannot blind himself anymore. “Shizun isn’t feeling well today. Is there anything this disciple can do to help?” He can’t help the eager tilt in his voice. He wants to help Shen Qingqiu so badly. He still wants Shen Qingqiu to smile at him kindly and pet his head gently, praising him for being good, the way he used to do when Luo Binghe was still a child.

Shen Qingqiu stumbles. He flushes, embarrassed. “This isn’t something Binghe should bother himself with. It will pass. It’s just unexpected. I should have remained home today.”

That’s strange? What condition could he be talking about? “What is Shizun suffering from?”

Shen Qingqiu sighs. “Well, Binghe is more than old enough to know. He probably figured it out already, didn’t he? He must have experience dealing with this with others.”

Luo Binghe stays silent. He has no idea what his shizun is talking about, but he’s not going to tell him that. He doesn’t want to appear stupid in front of Shen Qingqiu.

“Your master is an omega. I am currently feeling the first symptoms of an unprompted heat. I was already here when I first felt it, so I thought it would be rude of me to leave without seeing you, but it’s been more distracting than I would have expected.”

Luo Binghe tries not to white out at this unexpected knowledge. “Shizun doesn’t smell like it.”

Shen Qingqiu waves it away. “I’ve always hidden my natural scent. Easier to live without attracting attention that way.”

“I see.”

Shen Qingqiu rises. “Since Binghe understands, I will take my leave.”

“Where is Shizun going!? He should be careful! His condition makes him vulnerable!” If someone were to cross paths with his shizun so impaired and decided to take advantage… He couldn’t stand it.

“Back to my peak. As I said, this is unexpected, so I have no other arrangements. It will just pass. I’ll be fine.”

“Qing Jing Peak is much too far! Shizun should remain here. I can make sure he’ll be comfortable and undisturbed, if that’s what he prefers.” It will be a trial like no other, having Shen Qingqiu so close, knowing his body is begging for an alpha’s touch, but it will be better than having him on the road, pretending to be unaffected and failing miserably.

Shen Qingqiu shakes his head. “I couldn’t inconvenience Binghe so.”

“It would be no bother! The palace has personnel used to providing adequate care for omega guests.”

“Binghe, it’s not a good idea.”

“Why not? Shizun would be safe and taken care of.” Luo Binghe isn’t letting him go, and that’s final.

He can’t make himself do so.

“Binghe, are you really going to make me say this?”

Now, Luo Binghe is confused. His master had just admitted he was going into heat? What could he find more embarrassing than this? “Shizun can tell me anything. I wouldn’t tell a soul.” He would also make sure anyone witness to his shizun’s secrets wouldn’t be able to betray them.

Shen Qingqiu rubs his temples. “You’re not the child I raised anymore. You must have more self-awareness than this.”

Self-awareness? “I don’t know what Shizun is talking about.”

Luo Binghe recognises that the gruffness in Shen Qingqiu’s voice is a mask to hide deep embarrassment. “I can’t be around an alpha of Binghe’s calibre when I’m like this. I’ll shame myself.”

It takes all of his energy to keep himself in control. Too much enthusiasm and he’ll scare Shizun away. “Is Shizun implying he thinks he would proposition me?”

Shen Qingqiu’s lack of composure gives him away. “Binghe!”

Keep yourself in check. Don’t scare him. Don’t act like this is a favorite fantasy of yours you’ve been entertaining since you were thirteen and found out you were an alpha. “If Shizun prefers not to be alone, I would be honored to be his companion.”

Luo Binghe knows that Shen Qingqiu isn’t quite in his right mind. That the way he’s responding to his overture doesn’t mean anything in the long term.

But here, in this moment, Shen Qingqiu cannot deny he wants Luo Binghe. It’s written all over him, from the heat on his face to the tightening of his fingers on his robes.

Luo Binghe charges on. “If Shizun would allow me to, I would love nothing more than making sure that everything goes perfectly for him, in all aspects.” Luo Binghe reaches for his shizun, holding his delicate, warm, trembling hand in his. “I will take him to his room, where he can safely wait for the right time to come. Meanwhile, I will discreetly arrange for all he might need, and only when this is done will I join him.” His fingers tighten their hold on him. “As an alpha, I promise I will fulfill all his needs and desires.”

Luo Binghe cannot tell if his teacher’s scent is fluctuating under the influence of his words, but he’s almost certain Shen Qingqiu can smell his own attraction. He will know Luo Binghe is honest.

“Binghe… I cannot compare to the ladies you usually spend time with.”

Luo Binghe has no idea what ladies he’s referring to. “Shizun has nothing to be ashamed of.” Luo Binghe could easily sing Shen Qingqiu’s praises for hours, but he knows he would scare him away.

“Are you certain? Binghe shouldn’t feel obligated. I can wait it out.”

Shizun, in what world would bedding you be an obligation? No one on this earth would think so. “I’m certain.”

“Then, I will be in your care.” There is a hint of hesitation still in his voice.

Luo Binghe will make sure none remains by the end. “I won’t disappoint.”

____________

Luo Binghe visits Lin Lian himself.

She isn’t startled by his sudden, unannounced appearance. She is known for taking everything in stride, which is one of the reasons why she is so good at her job. “Junshang.”

“Shizun is going into heat. Everything needs to be perfect.”

She doesn’t even flinch, never mind asking why beta Shen Qingqiu was going into heat.

Then again, Luo Binghe now suspects he probably employs a few hidden omegas himself.

“Alone?”

“No. I’ll mind him.” Luo Binghe might have banned any mention of Resentment of Chunshan from his palace, but he doesn’t expect his servants not to be aware of it. She won’t need more than this.

While Lin Lian is officially just another senior servant, she is the one in charge of omega affairs. Be it making sure schedules allow for planned heats, providing supplies for inconvenienced guests, or keeping alphas at bay where they’re unwanted, Lin Lian was the one handling it all. She, more than anyone in the palace, would know what to do.

She nods. “A sudden heat?”

Luo Binghe acquiesces.

“It won’t last long then. They show up fast and pass just as quickly. When did he start feeling it?”

“A few hours ago.”

“He’s almost there, then. No time for ample preparation. I suppose you won’t let my people in the room?”

Luo Binghe answers that question with a growl that menaces to turn into a roar at any second. No one will be allowed near Shizun in this state. Not even another omega.

“If it lasts only a few hours, you won’t have to do much. If it’s longer, please make sure he eats and drinks a bit. His heat will be hard on him. Even a cultivator should feed to replenish themselves. We keep food that is both easily eaten and kept for this kind of occasion.”

Luo Binghe hates that he won’t be able to cook for Shizun himself. The feast he’d planned isn’t appropriate for the current situation.

Later, then.

“You might also wish to bathe him, and change the sheets as he soaks. Omegas expect alphas to tend to their physical needs. Anything more can come at a pleasant surprise.”

Luo Binghe bets Shen Qingqiu won’t be surprised. He had taken care of such tasks for his shizun for years, when they were still sharing a roof.

Unless his “other arrangements” weren’t as attentive. Luo Binghe hadn’t missed that sentence. Who did Shen Qingqiu turn to in his time of need, if not Luo Binghe himself? Liu Qingge? Yue Qingyuan? Someone else, unknown to Luo Binghe?

Whoever they were, they won’t have him now.

If he treats Shen Qingqiu as lovingly as he should be treated, maybe he’ll never turn to them again. While it isn’t what he wanted, calling Shen Qingqiu his omega every time his nature overwhelms him is much better than what he has now.

He gathers everything Lin Lian prepares for him, carrying food and sheets carefully via hidden passageways. The less people knew of the situation, the better. If Shen Qingqiu’s long-kept secret was exposed because of Luo Binghe’s carelessness, Shizun might not forgive him.

As soon as he opens the door to his shizun’s room, he is hit by what he assumes must be his teacher’s natural scent, so strong Luo Binghe finds himself following its call mindlessly until he reaches Shen Qingqiu, lying on his bed only in thin white inner robes glued to his skin.

Luo Binghe unceremoniously dumps everything on a nearby table, too distracted by the spectacle of his shizun flushed and panting to care about anything else. “Shizun?”

Shen Qingqiu lifts foggy eyes toward him. “Binghe…”

Shizun is calling for him. What could he do but answer? Luo Binghe climbs on the bed, throwing off jewelry and pieces of clothing as he approaches.

He freezes just as he’s about to touch. Will he really do this? Can he really, finally press his lips to Shen Qingqiu, discover the taste of his skin and the sound of his moans? Worse, will he become intimately familiar with his scent as it crescendos? Shen Qingqiu said the heat was unplanned; is there a chance their union will bear fruits?

He has to ask. “Shizun, is this really all right? Will you permit your Binghe to cherish you as you should always be cherished?”

Even through the fog of heat, Luo Binghe can tell the blush is born out of embarrassment, not desire. “Binghe! Don’t talk! Just… do what you have to do.”

It’s as much permission as his beloved will ever give. “As Shizun wishes, then.”

At least Shen Qingqiu is too out of it to notice Luo Binghe’s own nerves as he finally kisses him for the first time.

But not the last.

____________

Luo Binghe wants this to never end.

Shen Qingqiu is nestled on his chest, still exhausted from their activities. He smells different now that the heavy pull of his heat has lifted. Bamboo and orchids on a rainy day, perhaps.

Luo Binghe had been a bit reluctant to bathe him, once the heat had broken and Shen Qingqiu was close to sleep, but he was familiar enough with his shizun’s temperament to know that he would much prefer to wake up clean than still covered in sweat and semen. And what Shen Qingqiu wanted, Shen Qingqiu got.

He doesn’t quite regret it. Fresh sheets and clean skin meant that Shen Qingqiu had no incentive to wake up, instead curling up against Luo Binghe to keep awareness at bay.

It is paradise on earth, holding Shen Qingqiu such. Petting his soft hair as he wishes. Feeling his slow, steady breath on his chest. Hearing the contented beat of his heart.

Of course, all good things must come to an end. Shen Qingqiu starts to move, obviously fighting off sleep.

Finally, he blinks cloudy eyes at Luo Binghe. “Binghe…?”

Luo Binghe refuses to flinch. Instead, he tightens the arm thrown oh so carelessly across his shizun’s side. “Shizun. Did you sleep well?” Because if he didn’t, Luo Binghe will happily hold him to sleep again.

Instead of flustering, as Luo Binghe expected, Shen Qingqiu snuggles a bit closer. “Yes, but I’m not ready to rise yet.”

Ah. As far as Luo Binghe knows, it is not unheard of for omegas just over their heat to still feel bonded to their alpha, demanding closeness and comfort when they would usually demure. “We can remain here as long as Shizun wants.” His heat was too short for him to need food right now. He’ll be hungry, but that can wait.

(This has nothing to do with Luo Binghe’s desire to feed Shen Qingqiu proper food instead of aging snacks made without love or care.)

Shen Qingqiu lets out a sigh that is almost a giggle. “Binghe doesn’t have better things to do?”

Nothing could be more important than this. “They can wait.”

Shen Qingqiu… tuts? “Aren’t you the ruler of this realm? Do you push your responsibilities aside anytime you help an omega in need?”

“Why does Shizun think I do this regularly? I would only favor someone worthy so.”

At this, Shen Qingqiu does fluster. “Surely I am not ‘someone worthy’?”

Luo Binghe scuffs. “Who could be worthier than my shizun?”

Shen Qingqiu does laugh then, a light, airy thing that rings into Luo Binghe’s ears. “What a diligent disciple Binghe is, willing to take care of his shizun even in this.”

There are no circumstances where Luo Binghe wouldn’t be willing to take care of Shen Qingqiu.

But if he tells him this, he will run. Luo Binghe knows. He remembers too many of his attempts failing as Shen Qingqiu remembered something urgent he had to do, or a person he had to meet, whenever his disciple tried to express his less-than-platonic interest.

It has finally been long enough that Shen Qingqiu has managed to make himself forget. Luo Binghe cannot risk his teacher avoiding him again by being too forward.

He can, however, offer exactly this. “This disciple is indeed diligent enough that he would gladly care for his shizun again, when his proper heat arrives.”

Shen Qingqiu looks up at him from where he’s still resting against his heart. “Really? This master is grateful for his disciple’s help, but he doesn’t have to force himself by sleeping with an old man.”

This is painful. “Shizun can believe me when I say nothing about last night was me forcing himself. Or are his memories so hazy that he does not remember my enjoyment?” Because Luo Binghe would certainly not mind reminding him of it with actions instead of words.

He gets a light slap on his side. “An alpha enjoys any omega in heat. I know it’s not personal.”

Luo Binghe has to bite his lips not to cry in dismay. If anything, any alpha would enjoy Shizun no matter what the circumstance were. “It was personal for me.”

He sees it instantly. A tightening of Shen Qingqiu’s expression; his body sliding off Luo Binghe’s as Shen Qingqiu apparently decides he has had enough of lazing around. “Binghe is being ridiculous. This master is nothing special.”

He can’t let this stand. “I apologise if I offended Shizun, but he has to know I care for him deeply. He cannot consider himself as just another stranger I take to bed. His well-being is important to me.”

As he expected, his emphasis on Shen Qingqiu’s well-being, an expression of platonic concern instead of romantic interest, soothes some of Shen Qingqiu’s nerves. “Binghe is really too good a pupil. I don’t deserve him.”

Luo Binghe suddenly wonders if those words might be more than a rote phrase. “Shizun deserves the world. I’m nothing compared to it.”

Another light slap. “Really, ridiculous.” He finally lifts off the bed, looking for his robes, almost unmindful of his easy, effortlessly seductive nudity. “I’m hungry. Does Binghe know if it’s time for dinner?” He finds the abandoned snacks. “He brought food! Binghe really did a good job.”

“Shizun, no! I will go make Shizun a proper dinner. He shouldn’t spoil his appetite with these. Who knows who made them. They might be bad for him!”

Shen Qingqiu puts the bun down. “Binghe didn’t make these? I’ll wait then.”

Luo Binghe trained his teacher so well. “Does Shizun have preferences? I’ll cook whatever he wishes.”

Shen Qingqiu shakes his head. “Anything Binghe makes is delicious.”

If Shen Qingqiu decided to stay, Luo Binghe would prepare his every meal and relish doing so, as he used to do so long ago.  

Alas, Shen Qingqiu won’t. Instead, he will return to Qing Jing Peak and teach Luo Binghe’s shidi.

Luo Binghe can’t even blame him. Others deserve to have the same chance he got.

In the meantime, Luo Binghe will make his stay as sweet as possible.

Maybe if he does well, Shen Qingqiu will tell him when his regular heat is expected.

If he does really well, he will return here for it.

It’s a start.

[cheri-translates]

Headcanon - Fairy Identity Card

This work, 仙女证, was originally written by  君兮耶君兮 on Weibo, and she has given me permission to translate it 🌸

Brief context: Girls in China sometimes tell their boyfriends that they’ve left their fairy identity card in heaven. Depending on how smooth their boyfriends are, they could give answers such as “Does this mean you can stay on earth with me forever?”

[ VICTOR ]

“Ah! Victor!”

Already accustomed to how you often make a big fuss out of nothing, Victor doesn’t even turn around. “What is it now? Is Pudding ignoring you, or did you come across another recipe?”

You plop yourself onto the sofa, stealing the notebook laptop away from his hands. With a stern expression, you speak. “There’s something very serious I need to talk to you about.”

Seeing this rare solemnness, Victor subconsciously straightens up. “Did something happen?”

“I left my fairy identity card in heaven!” Pretending to be troubled, you lower your head, secretly observing his reaction. 

“...”

After a moment of silence, he finally speaks. “You didn’t finish eating everything in heaven?”

“How could you say that?! Am I still the darling who rests at the tip of your heart?” You immediately climb onto him, sitting in his arms as you point a finger gun at his chest. “In that case, why haven’t I eaten you up yet?”

Ignoring the finger gun, he encases you in a tight hug. “I’m different from heaven. I have enough to take care of you.”

“Yes, Mr Investor. Remember to approve of my proposal~”

“...”

[ GAVIN ]

“Gavin, my memory is getting worse.” You sigh, lifting a pen and writing the day’s itinerary on a post-it note.

“What makes you say that?” Placing one hand on the back of your chair, he leans down to take a look at what you’re writing.

Your neat handwriting appears on the paper. Gavin reads the words aloud slowly. “Fairy identity card.”

Capping the pen, you rip the post-it note and paste it on Gavin’s chest. “Because I left my fairy identity card in heaven.”

The warmth from your fingertips seeps through the thin fabric of his shirt, spreading onto his skin. Gavin’s face turns red, and he grips your hand while offering a suggestion. “In that case, want me to bring you out flying tonight?”

You can’t help but chuckle, wrapping your arms around his back. “Gavin, you’re really very adorable~”

“Cough...” His cheeks flare, and it’s as though he’s about to combust. “Then, I’ll take you to see the stars, and retrieve your fairy identity card along the way?”

“Sounds good~” You nuzzle him. “I’ll have to trouble the Little Fairy Boy then~”

Little Fairy Boy Gavin: ???

[ LUCIEN ]

“Hey! Siri Lucien, what should I do if I lose an identity card?” You poke Professor Lucien as he reads a student’s research report on the bed.

“Hm? Did you lose your identity card in the office? If you need it urgently, shall I get it for you?” Lucien sets down the wad of paper in his hands, propping his spectacles upwards.

“Nope.” You roll to the side, leaning on him. “I left my fairy identity card in heaven.”

“I see.” Lucien pushes the reading lamp towards the balcony, preventing the harsh light from hurting your eyes. “I was wondering why my Little Lady was so  cute. It turns out that she’s a Little Fairy~”

What a flirt!

He follows through with your words, and you hide your face and embarrassment under the blanket.

He tugs the blanket downwards. “Don’t cover yourself - it’s stuffy.”

“Fairies don’t eat mortal food. Since you’re officially a fairy, does this mean I won’t have to make breakfast tomorrow?”

You shake your head. “This fairy doesn’t feel full simply from dew. I prefer to be a fairy who eats mortal food~” You look into his eyes, brimming with tenderness. “This little fairy belongs only to you.”

[ KIRO ]

“Kiro, what should I do? I left my fairy identity card in heaven!” You frantically search through the pockets of his pyjamas.

“Miss Chips, that’s ticklish!” While evading your attacks, he wraps you up with a blanket. Pretending to be serious, he gives you a poke on the forehead. “Why are you so forgetful? I’m the same too!”

The same?

You freeze for a few seconds, blurting out the first thing that comes to your mind. “Hm? You also left your fairy identity card in heaven?”

“I’m a guy - how could I be a fairy!?” Kiro shoots you an incredulous glance. “I’m referring to my hero identity card~ I left it at the deity’s office.

“What should we do? I can’t return to heaven without my fairy identity card!” You splay yourself onto the bed in dejection.

“No idea.” Kiro follows suit, plopping down beside you. “Miss Chips, would we get caught if we forged identity cards?”

You look at him in shock. Although you’re aware that Key has no issues breaking through firewalls and accessing certain websites, you didn’t expect that he’d be so bold! 

“Kiro, are you about to violate the law? In that case, I'll definitely report you, and use the monetary rewards to have hotpot and barbecue~”

“No I’m not!”

[ SHAW ]

“Shaw, let me ask you something. I’ve left my fairy identity card in heaven. What should I do?” You kick Shaw, who is lying next to you.

“What joke is this? A fairy? You? Want me to find your ghost identity card instead?” A string of questions successfully causes your hands to curl into fists.

“Hey, could you be a little more serious!?” You threaten, twisting his ears. “Otherwise, I’ll break your eggplant head!!”

Locking his phone, he tosses it onto the bedside table. Then, he picks up your cup and drinks the Cola in it. “What else do you want me to do? Send you to heaven to retrieve it?”

Rolling your eyes, you lay yourself flat on the bed. “Isn’t your side occupation forging identity cards? Make one for me.”

“...who told you that I do forging of identity cards?” He scoots over, attempting to push you off the bed.

You purposely provoke him.

“Isn’t your main occupation grave-digging and your side occupation forging identity cards?”

As expected, Shaw’s face darkens. “You should sleep early, and maybe you’ll become more clear-headed.”

-

More translated and original writings: here

-

[ Permission to translate ]

君兮耶君兮: You can - just note the source of the author

[kedreeva]

Could you write something with Selkie!Crowley and Swan Person!Aziraphale please

A very long time ago I asked for askbox prompts and I still have a bunch of them and I am in the mood for a few, so I’m going to be filling them! New prompts are, however, still closed.

--------

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Aziraphale said, paddling a little closer to the strange, blobby creature basking itself on the muddy shore. It had already made a mess of the weeds and it didn’t appear to be interested in leaving anytime soon. He had seen similar creatures once or twice, when he got too close to the edge of the world.

As he got close, it cracked one watery eye to look at him, and then heaved itself onto its side and stared at him even closer, the big, dark rings around its eyes making it look almost as if it wore human spectacles. For a second, Aziraphale really thought it had understood him, and then it said: “What are you going to do about it?”

Aziraphale bristled. She wasn’t a feral animal, then. She was like him, some kind of shifter. “Chase you out, for one,” he said, opening his impressive wingspan. Swans were, all things considered, quite large for birds, and Aziraphale was bigger than a real swan. “Back where you belong.”

“I’ve never eaten swan before,” the creature said, little tongue poking out as she bared actual teeth, ones which beat the serrations along Aziraphale’s bill.

“And you won’t today,” he told her tightly, folding his wings. “What are you doing so far away from the sea, anyway?”

Some of her swagger deflated and she looked away. “Just... felt like a change, is all.”

Aziraphale circled himself once, gaze never leaving the strange little creature. “That’s like a fish getting up and having a go on land,” Aziraphale said. “Your people don’t live in this kind of water.”

“It won’t hurt me,” she said. “Tastes funny, but it’s safe enough.” She gave him a hard once over and then raised herself up on flat flippers in the front. “And anyway, not everything that lives in the sea has to stay there you know.”

“I do know,” Aziraphale said, daring to paddle a little closer. “Is that where you’re going? To land?”

She looked away. “I thought about it. Do you know what I am?”

“You’re not a seal,” Aziraphale said. “A shifter?”

“Close enough,” she said, wiggling a little closer. The water seeped around her auburn fur, turning it darker, almost a normal color for a seal. Aziraphale backed off, still not certain of those teeth. Her teeth had had serrations the way his bill did, and that seemed much less pleasant. “I’m a selkie.”

Aziraphale didn’t miss a lot about being in a human form, but he did miss frowning and smiling. He knew what a selkie was by name, if not form. “The land is dangerous for a selkie,” he cautioned. “Men will try to steal your pelt. They’ll call you theirs, and they’ll be right, and you’ll have to stay. You really should go back to the shore.”

“I can’t,” she blurted, and then gave the final heave to send herself into the water. Aziraphale paddled nervously around, unable to see her in the mud she had stirred up, until it swirled near to him. There was no time to paddle away before she surfaced beside him, just enough to speak. “They kicked me out. My family.”

Aziraphale softened, just a little. “Mine too,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” she said after a quiet moment. This close, he could see the golden ring around her huge, dark pupils. “Do you want to talk about it? We could go get dinner in a human port. If you wore my pelt, no one would try to take it.”

“You don’t even know me,” Aziraphale said. For all she knew, he could make off with her pelt just as easily.

“My name’s Crowley,” she said, before he’d even finished talking.

He drifted beside her, bobbing gently in the flowing water, before finally sighing. It had been a while since he’d had human food, and she’d wrecked his normal feeding grounds. It couldn’t hurt. “Aziraphale.”

“That’s a mouthful,” she told him. “Would you like to come to dinner with me, Aziraphale?”

“I’m not on the menu, am I?” he asked, drawing a high, sweet laugh from her.

“You’re not,” she assured him. “In fact, I think we could be quite good friends.”

Aziraphale wasn’t entirely sure about that, but he paddled around her and began to swim upriver slowly, leading the way. A moment later he felt a surge of water, and then he was upon her back, swimming upstream much faster than he’d been able to go without flying, and he thought maybe this little arrangement wouldn’t be so bad after all.

[faulty-writes]

Headcanons for Fat Gum, Kirishima and Tamaki with a female SO that doesn't eat much, usually just one meal a day and it's not a big meal. It's not that their SO has a disorder or is trying to lose weight, though she does think that they might find her more attractive at a smaller size, but it really is just because it slips her mind that she hasn't eaten or that she doesn't feel hungry.

Taishiro Toyomitsu

A big fella like Taishiro aka Fat Gum enjoyed eating. Heck, it was a functioning part of his quirk. The first time you happened to run into the fat absorption hero was in Hosu City, apparently, some low life thug had tried to steal your purse. Fat Gum came to your rescue, though it was some spectacle to witness him absorb a whole human being into his well, fat. After this, he politely invited you to one of his favorite restaurants. You accepted, believing it was the least you could do. But, you’d never forget the strange look on Fat Gum’s face when you told him you simply weren’t hungry despite the table of food in front of you.

The first time Taishiro asked you out on a date, he took you to a buffet, something you should have expected. “Come on! Open up, promise it won’t bite you! Haha, though I might!” he cheerfully spoke as he held a piece of sushi to your lips. However, you were hesitant to eat it, “Something wrong?” he questioned and it almost killed you to see that concerned expression on his face. You shook your head, playing everything off as if you were fine and surrendered to eating the sushi. Despite the fact, you weren’t even hungry.

Even in his skinny form, which was a shock to see, Taishiro tended to eat...well whatever he could get his hands on. As your relationship grew, Taishiro made it a point to frequently visit your home, of course, he’d always make sure he had permission to drop by. You began to expect his arrival and usually greeted him with homemade food. Which, he always offered to share with you even though you made it for him. This is when he began to notice you didn’t eat much and taking into consideration you didn’t have much food in your home, to begin with, he began growing concerned with your eating habits. Were you eating enough, if at all?

Taishiro was as sweet as they came and if one saw past his looks, they’d be able to tell he was a loving and considerate boyfriend. On occasion when you came home from work, you’d see a bouquet of flowers that were often laid on top of a box of chocolate or some form of take-out food, which you appreciated. But, you knew it was Taishiro’s way of trying to get you to eat more and it was a little annoying that you had to somewhat lie to him about how much you enjoyed the food.

Eventually, a conversation had to take place. Though Taishiro’s concern about your eating was sweet. You had to make him understand that your eating habits were normal, you had little to no self-image issues, and that if you ate too much it would result in a stomach ache. This seemed to disappoint Taishiro, but he seemed to understand. Despite the fact, he continued to give you small hints to eat. You appreciated it, though part of you wished he’d leave you and your eating habits be.

Eijiro Kirishima 

He first noticed your eating habits during a Class A and B get together, something that occasionally took place between dormitories and was more or less a way to maintain a civil relationship between the hero students. “Hm?!” he caught your attention as you sat on the couch next to him. “Is that all you’re going to eat?!” he exclaimed, and while you appreciated his concern. You claimed you didn’t eat much and pretended not to notice when Eijiro added extra food to your plate.

The first date Eijiro took you on was to the hero festival, complete with fun games of chance and rides. Plus plenty of junk food, which he continued to gobble down, of course, he offered you some. A bite of cotton candy or even half of his ice cream cone. “Come on, babe! It’s super good, yummy yum!” he urged with his pointy-toothed smile. But, you continued to decline his offers. Which finally caused some concern, “Babe...why don’t you want any? You hardly eat as is, come on. One bite?” you finally gave the excuse you weren’t hungry.

You thought his concern would be over with, but one day during lunch. Eijiro made yet another comment, “How come you eat so little, babe? You know I’ll love you no matter how big or small you are, right? Otherwise, well I wouldn’t have any right to call myself your man!” he said, and you only responded with a shrug. Though you were worried about your weight on occasion, it was nice to know that Eijiro would still be with you regardless.

Though Eijiro tried to make sense of your eating habits, he ended up going to Fat Gum about it. Asking for advice and such, this is what led to him giving you pounds of your favorite snacks and you noticed his odd change in behavior when he continuously suggested take out food for date nights. You wanted to confront him about it. But, you decided it wasn’t worth the fight and though you didn’t eat much of the takeout or snacks, you appreciated his efforts.

He still tried to get you to eat more, going to such silly lengths as to place your favorite snack between his lips and urge you to eat it. “Mm mmon!” he’d encourage, and though you found it strange. Honestly, quite weird. You leaned forward and took the snack, slowly chewing it. Eijiro noticed your concerned glace directed at him, but he assumed you had to know how worried he was about your eating by now. Was it a bad thing he was trying to help?

Maybe a nice homecooked meal would be more to your liking? Eijiro wasn’t a cook by any means and though he tried his hardest to make something for you. It ended up going to waste because he wound up burning it. “I...I was only trying to make something for you! I thought...you’d eat a homecooked meal or something babe...” the explanation melted your heart though you were beginning to get tired of his constant concern, so you grabbed him by the shoulders and reassured him for the final time that your eating habits were nothing to worry about.

Tamaki Amajiki 

Tamaki remembers the first time he met you, in fact, he saw you in the crowd after he had stopped a villain and Fat Gum urged him to talk to you. Somehow, that ended up with Suneater, inviting you to a restaurant as some type of celebration. Though you declined his offer, which disappointed him. Disappointed was an understatement, the way he clenched his chest almost like he was having a heart attack made you worry and slightly scared you. “I g-guess t-that’s um, f-fair...I mean you d-don’t know me b-but...G-God...e-expectations...” he groaned and you almost felt like apologizing, though you weren’t hungry and it would have been rude to be invited to a restaurant only to not eat.

However, as things progressed with Tamaki. Fat Gum inviting you and his future sidekick to restaurants became somewhat of a daily occurrence. But, each and every time you happened to order. It was always something small, a cup of soup with bread. A small appetizer, nothing overly heavy. Which at times was a challenge since Fat Gum tended to order everything on the menu. Of course, Fat also grew to be concerned over your eating habits which effected Tamaki as well since his mentor would always make comments about it. “B-Bunny, you don’t...want to e-eat more? Is y-your stomach u-upset or s-something, um, I c-can rub it f-for you if t-that’s the case.” he offered and though you couldn’t help but chuckle at his antics, you claimed you were fine and finished your small meal.

Unlike Fat Gum, Tamaki was a little hesitant to continue to bring up the issue. But, he also began to notice a pattern that seemed to concern him all the more. On occasion, he would hear someone else ask if you ate and your response was almost always that you had forgotten. That sounded like an impossible thing to do, then again your quirk wasn’t one that required you to eat like his. But, he debated about setting a reminder of some kind so he could make sure you truly ate. It seemed silly, but it honestly worried him someone he treasured wasn’t eating or taking care of themselves.

Tamaki though he wasn’t known to be extreme, began to bring you food. Something you didn’t expect and whenever you were at school, he always seemed to want to pay for whatever food you were getting and he’d always buy extra. It was a little humiliating having your boyfriend try to feed you spoonful after spoonful of curry. Eventually, you asked him to stop and while you expected him to be hurt, you never expected to see his lip quiver and his eyes water over. “B-Bunny! Please e-eat more! I-It worries me you d-don’t e-eat enough and um, w-well I...” he never got to finish his sentence as tears began to stream down his face. You felt some guilt as Tamaki buried his face in the crook of your neck, were your eating habits that bad they were borderline concerning?

The more you thought about it, the more sense it made. Of course, others would think it was a concern that a person your age didn’t eat enough. You didn’t know why it was such a big deal, some people only ate once a day and that was more than enough for them. But, you decided to ease some of Tamaki’s worries and made somewhat of an effort to eat more. Which seemed to work for the most part, and it made you happy to know Tamaki was at ease. Still, sometimes you wished one’s eating habits weren’t such a concern.

[shiny-procrastinates]

(re)Watching Magia Record S1 - part 13

part 12 here

Hello and welcome everyone to the last post in this series. Most people probably would watch this ep right after the other one and there's much to be written, so let's skip the recap and get right to it.

Puella Magi Madoka Magica Side Story: Magia Record S1 episode 13

This show in a nutshell.

Really though, poor Iroha. She only came to this town to look for her sister and now she's learnt a cruel secret and is being urged to join a cult. Talk about someone who must have no idea what's going on anymore.

Back in reality, Yachiyo has finally caught up. She tries to stop Mifuyu from showing them the truth, but I'd say it's too late now. Also, Mifuyu's sure being a jerk today. You don't get to blame Yachiyo for letting them come when you're the one who made sure this would happen!

Yachiyo gets upset, and Mifuyu disappears. Iroha wakes up with Yachiyo cleaning her Soul Gem and Yachiyo says this but, nah Yachiyo, they'd have to learn this sooner or later and you don't seem like you'd ever tell them.

Iroha and Yachiyo start making their way out of Memory Museum. Tsuruno and the others were with Iroha when they went down but now they're nowhere to be found. Wait, does that mean we don't get to see their reactions to learning the truth? What a let down.

On this topic, Iroha's also pretty calm despite everything, which is probably part because realization hasn't settled in yet, part because she's occupied worrying about her team... but maybe also in part because Iroha has a wish she can’t regret, so she just doesn't care about the price as much as others. Doesn't she look like this kind of character? "I don't care what price I have to pay if that means I'll save them"-like.

Oh.

Hey Yachiyo 1: that was really outta nowhere; 2: that's not very nice of you, jumping ship just as things have hit rock-bottom. What the hell

Iroha, of course, is as shocked as we are (we are?). Sure Yachiyo had been acting strange since yesterday but this is a bit much. You can't just decide this on your own when 3/5 of the team is MiA

Iroha follows after Yachiyo, pressing her for an explanation, but Yachiyo refuses to give one.

Iroha's understandably upset at Yachiyo's attitude and asserts she refuses to leave Yachiyo's side if she won't give her a convincing reason to. And really, she has all the reasons to lose her cool here: one of her best friends is leading a cult, she's destined to a fate worse than death, half her team is missing and now the last one wants out for absolutely no discernible reason besides because she wants to. Even a saint has their limits.

Also, like, Mikazuki Team is like family to her, Yachiyo can't just decide to destroy her home with no explanation like this

Hearing what Iroha said, maybe Yachiyo realized she wouldn't get Iroha off her tail without saying anything, so she reveals her reason for wanting to disband the team. Yachiyo says that her wish was to survive. However, the way it worked was that she sacrificed others for her own survival. So she thinks Iroha and co. will die if they stay with her.

Even hearing this, Iroha's not convinced. Could such a wish really exist?

So yeah, Yachiyo was having a little crisis there and ended up being eaten by the Rumor(?). Thankfully, Iroha could still see her signal on the Soul Gem GPS, so the girl firms her determination to save her.

While Iroha's doing that, Yachiyo's having a lecture by herself to herself inside the Rumor. Quite the novel way to do introspection, if I do say so myself.

Here, we learn that Yachiyo originally wished to survive in the modelling world (we're never directly told that she's a model but there's lots of visual cues to it throughout the series). She did it because she thought she had to be a strong leader to protect her companions. She didn't want to survive at their expanse; so, uhhh...

She isn't then. Wishes in this series come true in the exact way the Magical Girl wants it to, so Yachiyo's wish can't be killing anyone if that's not what she wanted. She's misunderstanding.

...I wish they'd have put Kanae and Mel's last words in the actual scene they belong to rather than just a still, since they're literally one of the main reasons Yachiyo even reached the conclusion that their deaths were caused by her.

Iroha has learned "hold B to charge".

So, yeah, Iroha must've had a training arc off-screen because even though she's only been shown sucking at battles the whole series, she's now suddenly strong enough to defeat a Rumor on her own. Or maybe she just wanted to save her wife Yachiyo that much.

Iroha defeats the Rumor of Memory Museum (the place's an actual building, if a weird one, so that stays), hugs Yachiyo and is about to literally drag her by the hand to go search for the others, but Yachiyo's still reluctant. Iroha then tells her that Yachiyo and the others are the one who made her this strong, so she'll prove to her that her wish isn't what she thinks it is.

Don't jinx yourself, idiot! Thank god you've got protagonist plot armor.

Now, if only years of survivor's guilt could be cured this easily in real life too.

Yachiyo finally calls Iroha by her first name, accepting Iroha's promise.

The museum starts falling apart, probably thanks to the damage it received when Iroha was fighting the Rumor, so Iroha and Yachiyo have no choice but to leave the place now, even though they haven't found the others yet.

Iroha barely dodges some debris, stumbling, so Yachiyo carries her instead. Iroha's Soul Gem has been drained from fighting the Rumor, so she's having a hard time moving already. Doppels may be a thing, but there's no guarantee that they're safe, so Yachiyo's call of going to the Coordinator's to get a Grief Seed is probably correct.

As Iroha's situation worsens, Yachiyo follows Chibi Kyuubei until almost the entrance. Then, she meets with someone we know very well.

Mami says something about a gospel, and Yachiyo asserts that she and Iroha have no intention of joining the cult.

Which makes Mami snap. This girl is clearly not on her right mind. In fact, one could say she lost her head (ba-dum-tss).

Mami and Yachiyo start fighting, and I guess as expected of a veteran of 7 years, we have to commend Yachiyo here on meeting Mami's blows while carrying Iroha on her back. Yachiyo pleads with Mami to hear them out but Touka, the brat who was just watching the battle, tells Mami she doesn't have to, and Mami just keeps on her offensive.

Of course, there's only so much Yachiyo could do handicapped. But today is not the day Yachiyo's getting a bullet to her head, because

A certain someone who really likes impromptu hydrant smoke bombs is here.

Sayaka! Nice save, shining cape hero of justice! You have no idea who exactly you're calling weak tho

Seeing Sayaka, it looked like Mami had went back to normal for a moment, but nope, she's still borked. Like in all timelines where she learns it, seems like Mami didn't take the truth well here either. The difference is that she can't witch out in Kamihama so something happened instead.

Mami keeps monologuing, with Sayaka of course not understanding a single thing she's saying. Then, Mami starts to doppel out. The girl has seriously lost her mind and is now obsessed with salvation. (and man 10/10 on the VA’s voice acting here)

And here comes the bullet hell! This is so overkill Mami

Sayaka and Yachiyo do their best to deflect the rain of bullets, with Yachiyo turning back and trying to compete in number of spears. Jesus, just how big exactly is the amount of magic a veteran magical girl has? This is insane!

Yachiyo tries to send a stream of spears, who are deflected with one Tiro Finale, with another one headed their way right after

Sayaka blocks the Tiro Finale with her sword. The shot is so powerful one of her arms is torn off AND SHE ATTACHES IT BACK MID-AIR

holy-moly!

Hope this museum has insurance.

Sayaka just barely manages to reflect that bomb, which saves them from being blown to smithereens. Touka was having a nice tea time watching the spectacle, but then realizes she had something else to attend to so she exits, leaving the stage to Mami, who resumes her bullet hell.

Sayaka uses Yachiyo's spears as a platform to get closer and attempts to grab Mami, to no avail. She falls down and tries to take cover, but Mami's bullets are now homing bullets apparently, because they just change direction and start raining in her direction again.

Down below where Yachiyo's hiding, Iroha manages to wake back up, but she looks, like, on the verge of dying or something. Iroha tells Yachiyo they have to help Sayaka and Yachiyo rebukes there's no way they could win, to which Iroha subtly implies she wants to use her doppel, assuring Yachiyo it'll be okay and raising yet another flag.

Mami finally corners Sayaka, but before Sayaka can become blue Swiss cheese, Iroha comes in with her doppel to cover her. Very convenient that she suddenly knows how to control it.

Aaand Yachiyo can do that too, because of course she does, why wouldn't she. (/sarcasm)

But, uhhh, hers is considerably more creepy, what with the extra arms and stuff. Yikes.

Yachiyo says that doppels are dangerous, but one has to wonder when and how did she even learn about them. After all, she did seem surprised when Iroha did not turn into a witch in Seance Shrine.

While that's going on Touka's just out here deciding by herself that Mami would want to die for the sake of salvation. Just, uh, I don't think you can judge that when she's gone nuts, and you're a jerk if you put her in that scenario expecting her to die. Not that anyone had any doubts you're a jerk, mind you.

Also, what does she mean with Mami helping with developing Rumors?

"hey Kyuubei, I don't want to be meguka anymore, can I retire?"

Even using their doppels, Iroha and Yachiyo are not managing to make even a dent in Holy Mami. Iroha ends up getting bashed into a wall, the doppel taking over for real and her becoming a sitting duck for Mami, but Yachiyo yeets Mami before she can shoot. I'm sure this wasn't supposed to be funny but there's just something hilarious to me about Yachiyo just yeeting Holy Mami and her bouncing away.

Yachiyo transforms and shakes Iroha back to reality.

Again, why the heck do you know this, Yachiyo.

Iroha raises yet another flag for herself. What next? Are you going to say you want to marry her when you two go back?

Somewhere else, Touka arrives on her appointment: a speech for the cult. And oh my hell just look at how many magical girls there is! The amount of Black Feathers always blows me away, since the impression I got from og and even the spin offs is that, sure, there are some groups of magical girls around like the Holy Quintet and the Pleiades, but I still though it was more of a rare thing. It's shocking to see THIS many in the same place. (...I suppose the game needed the cannon fodder :x)

HEY what are these two doing here?!

Touka continues her speech over Iroha and Yachiyo's battle.

This cult leader here continues her discourse, preaching about how the power to wish for something is what advanced civilization, so magical girls, who have the power to make a wish reality, are better than normal humans, and so are deserving of being released from their fate.

OH NO, TSURUNO HAS GONE WEIRD TOO

*bonk*

There goes Holy Mami down the collapsing museum.

It's not like Touka's completely wrong (except for saying that magical girls are superior), but if it wasn't clear enough already, their actual actions makes her speech be full of hypocrisy.

Back at the crumbling Memory Museum, Iroha has managed to jinx herself so hard throughout this episode she pierced her own protagonist plot armor. Great job!

Try as she might, Yachiyo just cannot pull her back up, which also makes no sense when you consider how strong magical girls are, but alas.

And to make things worse, Mami is also pulling a literal "you're going down with me", so Iroha, making a split second decision, pulls her hand away from Yachiyo's grasp, lest both of them fall and get buried... breaking the one promise she made probably not even a hour ago.

I think that last thing she said was "sorry", but don't quote me on that.

What a loyal Mokyu. Never mind that if they can turn into water they probably can't die from this.

Yachiyo's about to follow her fate too, but thankfully Sayaka comes in for the save, only giving a brief glance to where Mami disappeared before getting the heck out of there.

Well, people promise lots of things, Yachiyo.

OH I KNOW YOU, what was your name again? It's been so long I forgot.

Back at the The Wings of the Magius' HQ, Touka's done with her speech. The way the anime cuts from Yachiyo falling to the depths of despair to the cult clapping is just *chef's kiss*

Oh no Felicia and Sana also joined the cult :(

EXCUSE ME, WHAT

oh frick we'll have to deal with that too!? Aren't things already effed up enough as is!?

...being meguka is suffering.

Also the song playing over this last sequence, Nigredo, is a real banger. Momentarily filling in that hole Kalafina left in our hearts.

After the end credits there's the teaser for season 2, with lots of overlapping lines and blink-and-you-miss-it frames hinting at the things that'll happen. I'd have to screenshot basically the whole sequence to get everything and season 2 is coming out like, today, so I'm not even gonna bother.

- x -

Aaand that's it folks! Puella Magia Madoka Magica Side Story: Magia Record Season 1! (still a mouthful)

I cannot express just how hyped I was by the end of this episode back when it aired. Did you get fired up watching it too? I was so into it back then I just couldn't stop theorizing for like, over a month, so eventually the curiosity was just too much and I caved in and watched the game.

On that matter, ironically, despite me loving the game story to bits, this is the ONE episode that makes me wish I didn't go and watch the game. Why? Because I liked this episode well enough before, but now I just can't get over how stupidly better the resolution to Yachiyo's arc was done in the game. I get runtime constraints and all, but it's almost an offense to her character having her believe in Iroha right away just because Iroha said she wouldn't die. Aaaaghh what the heck, I don't know how they could have done this better with the time on the episode but this wasn't it. I'll be eternally salty we got robbed of the full extent of alpha Iroha, too.

So yeah, I do apologize if this post sounded more salty and sarcastic than usual.

One thing I realized re-watching this though is that the reason this episode is so awkward with that character part is exactly because they halfheartedly tried to stick to the game. Yachiyo bringing back her "it's none of your account" and Iroha defeating the Rumor on her own were part of the game, but because they hadn't kept those character traits throughout the anime it falls flat here, because anime Yachiyo didn't use that almost as a catchphrase, and anime Iroha is never shown to be competent enough to take on a Rumor on her own (the opposite, in fact), so those come out of nowhere. Even last episode, Yachiyo 180ing because of what Mifuyu said comes out of the blue in the anime, because we're missing the context that she actually went back to behaving like she used to when she first disbanded her team, and anime Yachiyo didn't have the hold-up with the word "friends", at least not as clearly. On the other hand, Yachiyo being willing to accept Iroha's words right away does fit in with anime Yachiyo, who was always more soft than game version, but here it becomes awkward because they had had her acting like her game counterpart since last episode and then suddenly she snaps back to the anime self again.

What I'm trying to say here is that they should've changed this scene even more to fit the actual characters anime Iroha and Yachiyo are, rather than halfheartedly trying to force it to go the same way as in the game. That's what I think.

Besides that, Tsuruno and co.'s reaction to the truth was cut out, but I'm sure we'll get around to seeing that next season. Holy Mami's fight is cool but... I dunno. Except Sayaka reflecting that Tiro Finale, it felt really uninspired. It could've been shorter if that meant giving more time to the story, imo

Now for things I REALLY like in this episode, there's the whole sequence with Touka's speech. You might've even guessed this considering I said the dream sequence way back in episode 1 is my favorite ever. IT'S JUST SO GOOD. The constrast between Touka delivering this super charismatic discourse about magical girls, the saint of her cause being lunatic and their actions being just the opposite of the noble cause she says they're preaching is marvelous. They even manage to use this time to reveal that KaMoRe and Tsuruno and co. are on the cult. Really, really well done.

This ending tho. Iroha disappearing is the biggest anime original thing to happen besides Kuroe, so that's got me curious to see what they'll do with this. I love the game, so I have complicated feelings about the anime diverging from it, but I can't deny it's exciting to think about what they'll change up. Ultimately, it's more likely that they're just rearranging some stuff to make the progress more straightforward, but it'd be really cool if it went full anime original too. Just I'm not sure on the odds for that.

I'm sure they'll keep us on the suspense until the very last moment possible but I'm sure Iroha's not actually dead. Looking at a meta sense, there's no way they'd kill a main character off-screen. Storywise, it'd be hard to move Ui's mystery forward without the one person who remembers her and they're not just going to drop this plot, and also for Iroha to be dead Holy Mami would also need to be dead and we can't have that because they haven't even went into what's wrong with her yet. So yeah. I'll believe it when I see it. Would it be absolutely crazy if they did? Yeah, but it ain't gonna happen. (please don't make me have to bite my tongue show)

Whew, this post is long af. I didn't plan for this. I don't feel like writing a season impression because all of s1 was mostly set up for what's to come, so I can't say if it was good or bad until the series is over. Originally, I'd planned to put up another post with my theories for s2, but considering that comes out today I'm not sure there's even a point to doing it anymore lol

In any case, I hope I could provide you some fun with these posts! Being honest, the reason I decided to write this was because I've always liked to hear people's opinions on the shows I like, but I don't really have people to watch things with me, so I just read reddit and stuff. Doing that, when I was watching Symphogear s1 some years back, I stumbled across these posts of someone watching it for the first time and had a blast reading those as I watched. So I wanted to provide someone with that experience too. I'll never reach the comedic genius that person had, but I can at least keep you company while you watch :)

...these are also super useful to check back on the order of events too :v

So yeah, writing these was fun, though there were lots of parts where I really went out of ideas of what to say; it forced me to actually sit down and rewatch (or else I'd procrastinate) and made me pick up on a lot of things. That's a plus in my book.

Now that we are done with this, I hope you are as excited for season 2 as I am! I'm not sure if I'll keep writing about it here, so yeah. Whether we ever meet again or not, remember:

Don't ever make a contract with a white weasel.

[noladyme]

The Frog Princess. Chapter 15

She had no wish to be bound down to anyone, but Y/N none the less found herself being dragged across the continent; to marry King Foltest of Temeria.  Instead of pomp and spectacle; she was accompanied by the witcher, Geralt of Rivia. Their travels would bring both monsters, lust, love; and heartache. All sound tracked by an endearing buffoon of a bard, named Jaskier.

TW: Violence, language, sexual themes. Rated M.

15

It was just dark. And grey. And so cold. Crach had insisted that he should get me a room for the night – being a little vexed by the fact that the witcher had dropped me at his feet; and then, as he’d called it, just buggered off.

But he hadn’t just buggered of. He had left me. He had torn my heart from my chest, and then walked out the door – dropping it in the snow. I was empty. My missing heart was making it so that no blood was pumped though my veins. Only ice water. It was physical pain.

I was laying in the cold bed that had been acquired for me – the barmans own sleeping place when not rented out. Crach and Thorstein had more or less carried me to bed – thinking that it was the mug of mead, from home, lassie!; that had tuckered me out.

I lay looking at the ceiling; hardly even blinking.

I want you to be happy, safe, and content… I couldn’t give you what you want… Sometimes it’s just two creatures meeting, and reacting… I didn’t mean to hurt you…

I hadn’t slept, when dawn broke. Crach tumbled into the room. “Get your ladythings in order, cousin. You’re about to go see your husband”, he smiled.

I inhaled, and was about to speak; but no words came out. I just sat up; as if someone had taken control of my limbs for me, and was carrying me forward.

Stepping out of the tavern, I looked down – surprised not to see the blood-spatter in the snow, from where the witcher had left my heart. I realized it must have been eaten by wild animals; as there was no way it was still inside my body.

Crach put me on his horse behind him; and had to help me wrap my arms around his waist. “Something is wrong with you cousin. Are you unwell?”, he said over his shoulder. “No”, I answered. “I’m… not anything”, I said. “You’re just nervous, lass”, he said. “Marriage is nothing to worry about. Look at me! I’m still the same as before. I know a miller’s daughter you could ask…”. “No”, I simply said. Crach chuckled softly, and led his horse forward.

I put my hand to my neck; searching for my frog – looking for any kind of relief. It was gone. Everything was just… gone.

---

We rode for three days; taking breaks for mead and axe throwing contests. On one of these breaks, the men had had enough of my gloomy demeanor. “Come on, my lady!”, Thorstein said. “You always used to love these!”. I grabbed the axe he handed me; and looked at it in my hand. It was heavy. I should throw this at something, I thought. I looked up and turned around, searching for a target. “We put the mark over there, cousin”, Crach laughed, and turned me by the shoulders; pointing at the piece of cloth they’d fastened to a tree. “Come on, now. Just imagine it’s your future husbands’ cock. I hear he’s a right bastard; and the thought of it might make it easier for you to see him tomorrow”.

Tomorrow. I looked at my cousin, narrowing my eyes; and shook my head. “No”, I said; dropped the axe in the snow, and walked away. “Where are you going?”, he called after me. “Anywhere but here”, I called back, not turning around “Leave her”, I heard Thorstein mutter. “She needs some fresh air it seems”. “There’s nothing but fresh air here”, Crach said. “Leave it, Crach”. The men went back to their doings, and I walked on.

I don’t know how far I walked. I could no longer hear my cousin or his men. All I heard was my feet breaching the surface of the snow. We hadn’t been each other’s. We’d both made that clear. I didn’t want to belong to anyone, and neither did he. But then why did it feel like a part of me was gone? That he had taken it with him; and left this shell? The witcher.

I sat down, leaning against a tree; and then took a deep breath. “Fuck!”, I screamed as loudly as I had ever screamed before. A doe ran through the snow a few yards away; fleeing from the sound. I stood up, turned around, and put my hands on the tree; digging my fingertips into the bark. I scrunched my eyes together.

“Not mine”, I whispered. “Never mine”. I have to take it. “If I want something of my own; I have to take it”. Mine… Mine… My life… “Minn fjor…”.

My fingers began tingling. I heard the bark of the tree crack where my hands were placed; and a warmth spread through my arms – from my fingertips; all the way to my chest – where it built up. The tree – already having shed it’s leaves long ago – became even more bare; it’s bark shedding and turning into dust upon the snow. I felt air fill my lungs – it tasted like fresh dirt; leaves and wood.

Realizing what was happening; I quickly removed my hands from the tree; looking at it with horror. “Út!”, I yelled, and with the word came such force from my chest; that the tree cracked in the middle.

I fell to my bottom; shock at what had just occurred.

I heard horses. “It came from over here!”, someone called. I thought I recognized the voice. “Move, men!”.

I got behind the now dead tree.

“What about the Skelliger party?”, another voice called. “What’s left of Flaxons men will have to take care of them. Now move!”.

Crach! Fuck. What did I get you in to?

I began running in the direction I’d come; trying to stay out of the way of the men who were searching for me. My tracks in the snow would give me away, I knew – but I had to warn my cousin.

I heard horses neighing, and a man screaming. Metal was hitting metal – sword fighting.

Finding the clearing where Crach had been, it was empty. I panicked; scanning my surroundings desperately for any sign of my cousin and his men. “Crach!”, I called out. “Where are you?”.

“Lady Y/N!”, someone called behind me. “I’ve come a long way to see you”.

I turned around. O’Dimm was standing only a few yards from me; a broad smile across his haughty face. “I must say, my lady; you are looking… rough”, he smirked. “Nothing like the lovely lady I met in Kaer Trolde”. “I am not coming with you!”, I shouted “My dear, yes you are”, he smiled. “It’s your destiny. Queen…”. I shook my head. “Not of Nilfgaard”, I said.

O’Dimm walked slowly towards me. “Your cousin, king Eist, he almost had me fooled, with that decoy carriage”, he said. “I sent my men after it, only to have them return with information that in stead of a lady; they’d found an elven whore”. He snarled the word; making me jump at him; and claw at his face. He grabbed my arms; and pushed me to the ground. “There we are, my lady. Just relax now, as we wait for my men to take us back to Nilfgaard”, he said; his warm breath hitting my face. “Don’t worry; I won’t harm you. I’m keeping you pure for your husband; the emperor”. He sniffed at me. “Well, somewhat pure. I can smell the witcher on you”.

I pushed at him; trying to let my knee hit his groin; but he held me down. “I found out you were travelling with him; when one of my men caught up to me in Brugge; letting me know about, how the mutant had attacked them”. “Was that before or after you asked Filivandrel for help?”, I snarled at his smirking face. “It seems you are constantly having to have others do your dirty business!”. He exhaled deeply, letting me smell the sour wine on his breath. “Well, I am handling business now, aren’t I?”, he sneered.

I heart fighting nearby. “O’Dimm!”, someone called. “There’s too many of them!”.

O’Dimm got up; dragging me with him. “Too many?”, he growled. “It’s one bloody witcher. Just take him down!”.

Geralt!

My heart lept. I wrestled against O’Dimms hold; biting his hand – which made him yelp, and let go of me, so that I could stand.

A man in black armor leapt into the clearing. “He’s got friends!”, the voice called back. “They’re…”. His voice disappeared in a rattle; as a sword slid through his chest; making him fall to the ground.

Behind him stood Geralt; face locked in rage.

He sprang into the clearing; and ran towards O’Dimm. The man grabbed my arm, and dragged me in front of him; holding a knife to my throat. “Stop, witcher!”, he yelled. “I will slit her throat!”. “What happened to loyalty to the Usurper?”, I growled. “I treasure my life more”, O’Dimm sneered. Geralt walked forwards slowly. “Let her go”, he growled. O’Dimm’s knife pressed against my neck. “That’s not going to happen”.

Geralts eyes met mine. “The tree”, he said. I frowned, not understanding. “Like the tree, little frog. You can do it”.

My jaw dropped, as I caught his meaning. I lifted my hand to touch the one O’Dimm was holding the knife with. “Minn fjor”, I whispered. “What was that?”, O’Dimm snarled into my ear. “Minn fjor!”, I screamed; and I felt my hand tingling from where I was touching his. It began shaking; and O’Dimm yelped; lowering it, and letting me go.

Geralt sprang forward; and threw O’Dimm to the ground. He raised his sword into the air.

“Geralt, stop!”.

Triss stepped into the clearing. “Leave him!”, she said. “He has to die!”, Geralt growled. “He will never leave her alone!”. Triss shock her head. “Destiny has other plans for him”, she said softly. “Fuck destiny”, Geralt snarled.

I looked at Triss; her eyes were serious. “You cannot do this, Geralt”, she said. “The future has use for him. You cannot change things from what they must be!”.

I understood, then. The war. This one. The next. They were unavoidable; but they needed all their players. I was a player, making decisions that changed the future for many people. But so was O’Dimm. And he needed to make his mark as well. Destiny couldn’t be changed; but it was fleeting. Our choices – my choices – impacted its direction.

I walked over to Geralt, and put a hand on his shoulder. “Geralt?”, I said. “Please…”. He turned his face to look at me; his eyes confused. “Let’s leave this place”, I whispered.

Geralt got off O’Dimm; and stood up, looking into my eyes with such… love. “You… I have to take care of you. Protect you”, he said. I wrapped my arms around him. “Then take me away from here”. Geralt put his arms around me; and kissed the top of my head. “Come”, he said; and stepped away from me, whistling for Roach. O’Dimm was standing behind him, with a furious expression on his face. In his hand was his knife; raised, to strike at Geralts back.

No! You can’t take him from me! I raised my hand towards O’Dimm, and screamed. “Út!”. A force – the force I had just taken from the man himself – came from my chest, and out through my hand; knocking O’Dimm to the ground.

Geralt turned, and stared at O’Dimm, and then turned his face to me – eyes wide. “You should probably leave this place, O’Dimm”, Triss said coldly. “Before someone decides to take destiny in to their hands”. She turned to Geralt and me. “Get away from here. Go where I showed you, Geralt”.

Roach had trotted into the clearing, and we got on her; me behind Geralts back. We took off into the forest.

---

We rode for a short while; the sun setting over the trees.

Arriving at a mound; Geralt helped me off Roach, and walked up to the mossy and snow-covered rock-wall. He lifted some roots hanging down it; revealing the entrance of a cave. “In here”, the witcher mumbled. I followed him inside.

It was dimly lit by a few candles, and a small fire in the middle. A chest set against the wall; and a collection of blankets and pillows made out the rest of this makeshift, temporary home.

I fell to my knees in front of the fire; warming my hands. Geralt stood with his back to the wall. “Y/N…”, he began.

A gush of wind came from the entrance of the cave; and Triss stepped in, walking up to the fire to sit next to me. “Your highness… You weren’t careful”, she chided with a kind voice “I didn’t know”, I whispered. “No”, she said. “You didn’t”. “I think; I can only do it when my heart is in true pain”, I said. I heard Geralts breath hitch. “No, you can always do it”, Triss said. “But you haven’t learnt how to use it”. She took my hand. “I would like to train with you – once you’re in Vizima”.

I shook my head. “I don’t want to be a sorceress…”. “No, and you won’t be”, she said. “But… you have to learn to control it. What happened today is exactly what Nilfgaard wants”. Geralt groaned. “But she’s not going to Nilfgaard”, he said. “Still”, Triss continued. “This power… would we want it in the hands of Foltest? Or Calanthe for that matter?”. Geralt frowned and grunted. Triss turned to me again. “I want to help you, if you’ll let me”, she said. I nodded and half-smiled at my new friend.

Triss looked from Geralt to me. “I’ve let your cousin know, that the witcher will take you the rest of the way”, she said. I suddenly remembered. “Crach!”, I said. “He’s fine”, Geralt muttered. “Flaxon and O’Dimms men were still hurt from their fight with the wolves”. “And they had a witchers help”, Triss smirked. I gazed up at Geralt, who wouldn’t meet my eyes.

Triss squeezed my hand. “Finish this journey”, she whispered. She walked out of the cave, letting moss and roots cover the entrance.

We were silent for a long time.

“I was there. I was always there, just out of sight”, the witcher suddenly said. “I wanted you safe… and I couldn’t let you go”. “But you did”, I whispered. “To me, you did. I couldn’t feel you near. I was alone”. Geralt looked at the ground in front of him. “I saw the pain. I could see it was worse than that night in Maribor”. “And did you feel it too?”, I whispered. “I did”, he said. “And I wanted it. Deserved it”.

I sighed; too drained to cry. “It wasn’t supposed to end like that”, I said. “We agreed…”. “It was always going to end in pain”, Geralt said. “If we ever thought differently, we were lying to ourselves”. I looked down. “I know”, I said. “But… together. We were supposed to end it together. You decided without me, that it was time”.

He sat down next to me; not coming too close, to give me room. “I’m sorry…”, he said. “I thought it would be easier…”. “For who?”, I said, clenching my jaw. “Me? Or you?”. He grimaced. “I was selfish…”, he said. “I thought breaking your heart like that would make it better – more simple. That I wouldn’t have to face a real goodbye. In Vizima”. “You didn’t just break it”, I whispered. “You took it with you. I just thought you’d thrown it in the snow as you walked away”.

He fiddled with something around his neck; and pulled out a silver chain – with a frog pendant. My frog. “I would never do that. It was next to my own heart the whole time”.

I sighed; and turned my body to face him full on. “Then give it back”. He frowned and exhaled deeply. Carefully he slid the chain around my neck, and closed the clutch under my hair.

He put his forehead to mine. “If you hate me…”. “I don’t”, I said. “Please, just kiss me”. He put both his hands on either side of my face; leant in; and gently let his lips meet mine.

Some time later, I was naked; covered in blankets; and resting against the chest of the bearer of my heart.

“You never told me… what did Eist pay you to travel with me?”, I said. “Protection”, he muttered. “Of my… child”. I smiled. “You will see it someday”, I said. He grumbled. “And you get nothing else?”, I asked. “I’ve gotten plenty”, he said; and looked down at me. “It wasn’t part of the contract… but no less valuable”.

I fell asleep – my ear pressed against his chest; listening to the slow beating of his heart.

---

The next day, we rode for Vizima. There should have been a solemn quiet between us; but we spoke – desperately clinging on to the sounds of each other’s voices. I sat with my back to his chest; for comfort and warmth – and so he could smell my hair whenever he wanted.

“Little frog”, he’d say, as he drew in the scent of my locks. “Wolf”, I’d answer, as the tingling of his warm breath made me giggle.

We didn’t speak about anything from before we’d met, or what would happen after. We focused on our own journey; what we’d seen, who we’d come to know - how many times we’d kissed; which Geralt found wasn’t enough; so I almost fell of Roach, when he suddenly tipped me to the side to meet my lips. “I won’t let you fall”, he’d said; and stroked my cheek as he kissed me.

I spoke about my mushroom stew, trying to teach him the recipe. He distracted me by talking about how beautiful my face was when I’d come undone with him inside me. That had led to a stirring neither of us could ignore - and luckily there were trees around.

“Little frog”, he’d groaned; as he gently thrust in to me, while holding me to his chest against the treetrunk. “Wolf”, I’d cry out; as I held on to him for dear life, while exploding in extasy.

It was our last hours together that day - and we made everything of them that we could.

Once we made it to the drawbridge of the city gates; Geralt got of Roach’s back; and lifted me down to join him on the ground.

“I’m going to walk you through those gates now”, he said, looking deep into my eyes. “The journey will be over”. I smiled at him. “You have others to begin”, I said. “So do you, your majesty”, he smiled.

He took my hand; and led me into the city.

I was greeted by a murmur of voices. “It’s her!”, I kept hearing over and over. “The queen!”. Geralt never let go of my hand; holding it up as a knight would a dancing partner. “This is weird”, I whispered. “You’re telling me!”, he murmured back.

There was a blaring of horns, as we walked down the street towards the castle gates. They were opened, and on the other side stood a large following of guards in their best armor; and him. Foltest.

Geralt and I walked forward – my breath catching. “Last chance, little frog”, he murmured. “I can put you on Roach, and get you out of this city, right now”. I took a deep breath. “Is that any way to end this journey?”, I said. “Hand me over, witcher. You have a contract”. I saw him smile sadly out of the corner of my eye.

We reached the gates; walked through – and Geralt placed my hand in Foltests outstretched one. As his hand left mine; I heard him exhale – as if he was letting go of life itself.

“My lady”, Foltest said. “Welcome to Vizima”. “Your majesty”, I whispered. “I see your escort has brought you to me unscathed”, the king said. “You should say your goodbyes. We have a wedding feast to attend”. I let out a breath and nodded.

Geralt was standing with Roach a few paces back. I walked up to him; desperately wanting to touch him – but I knew it wasn’t a possibility.

He looked at me with a somber smile, and began to walk away. “Witcher!”, I called after him; my voice breaking. He stopped; and turned to face me. “Foltest told me once; that he envied me; to live – and never have to fall in love”. He exhaled and looked deep into my eyes. “He was wrong”.

He saddled on to Roach; turned her around; and rode away – not looking back.

---

 Stay tuned! There will be an epilogue.

Thanks for reading.

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

- no lady

 Tag list:

@ayamenimthiriel

[mimiplaysgames]

Terra Week Day 1 (Heart/Vacation)

Summary: Aqua needs to find her Keyblade, and Terra realizes he’s the only locked door left. He’s going to have to do something crazy to reunite them. After all, what’s the point of becoming a Master when all these loose ends need their closure? | Word Count: 1,909

Read on AO3

A/N: For Terra Week 2021! You can find that account on Twitter!

~*~*~*~*~

The Tenets of a Master, Ch. 1

For the Bearer to wield the Key, his mind shall not ache His will shall not yield, his Heart shall not break

Terra doesn’t understand why he’s re-reading this book. He knows why (a Yen-Sid-tasked-him-with-it type of why), but he’s already done his time. He’s already written essays and debated about it in classes long ago. He already spent a night in the Master’s office asking for something more useful. Aqua does not recommend it. Ven hates it.

And of course, Yen Sid is the one who assigned it for Terra’s second Mark of Mastery. A most vital book, he had said to Terra. How full of it.

Affairs of the Heart by the Master of Masters in its peeling leather glory, the dumbest book Terra has ever read (though Eraqus would have found offense to that). It’s muddled with archaic language, vague descriptions, and random limericks. It answers questions with questions, and couples answers with contradictions.The tiny nuggets of gold Terra could mine from it are hidden in four-hundred pages of grime. 

A complete waste of time, but if Yen Sid tasked Terra with it, then he has reservations about the strength of Terra’s heart. And Terra isn’t sure if he disagrees.

Terra can’t help but think about The Adventures of Robin Hood when he’s supposed to be studying. The story of a fox and his bear sidekick out to humiliate a maneless lion. Their goal: return stolen money, bring light into homes that have been dark, and destroy the shackles that unjustly imprisoned the common folk. Robin Hood is always smart enough to avoid getting caught. 

That, right there, is a hero. But when Terra suggested it as a book to study for Keyblade Master many years ago, the Master refused.

Perhaps Yen Sid will be more open-minded.

If he recalls correctly, Robin Hood sits on the same shelf, on the top floor. He enters the library on the third level, the foyer opening up to a U-shaped, five-story gala with forest green carpeting and windows that stretch to the ceiling. Aqua wanders through the bottom floor, carrying a conversation with herself.

She has her hand to her face—oh, she’s using her Gummiphone. Terra always forgets. He keeps his off, only carrying it in his pocket because she nags him to. That anyone can reach him in the blink of a thought sounds invasive. 

Scuffling downstairs, he overhears her saying, “I appreciate it. Thank you,” before hanging up.

“Who was that?”

“Ienzo.” She double checks her phone to make sure she’s back at the menu and has, in fact, hung up. Gummiphones are not the easiest to use and Aqua has kept someone on the other line before only because she didn’t understand the use of the red button. Terra shrugs. She continues, “One of the scientists at Radiant Garden.”

Terra still can’t put a face to the name but the mention of scientist and Radiant Garden turns his stomach. It all means the same: people who’ve studied, worked under, and followed Xehanort. It’s not their fault, just like Aqua keeps telling him that it’s not his fault either, but how is Terra supposed to look at anyone who’s known his face for years without ever hearing his voice? 

“What’s going on?”

Aqua is the kind of person who doesn’t mind looking anyone in the eye. When she is warm, it comes naturally. When she’s threatened, she wills it. She glances at the carpet for a moment. This is going to be another string of conversations he and Aqua will dance around. “I’m trying to find my Keyblade.” 

“Oh.” Terra stares at his shoes. Affairs of the Heart sits under his arm, useless. “Are they any help?”

“They’ll try.” She smirks through her frustration. “No one knows where it is, if they remember it at all.” Hugging herself, Aqua shakes her head, her attempt at keeping her eyes dry. “I just want to lay the Master to rest. I want Rainfell back.”

“I know,” he says softly. Every time they spar, it becomes a spectacle when she summons the Defender, a Keyblade twice as long as Rainfell. She’s honestly more intimidating with it, but it’s like looking at a doctored image. The Master’s Keyblade, still alive. They’ve spoken about what to do with it: take it up the mountain so he can watch over them, or leave it outside the castle so he’s always near, or display it in the entrance hall above the thrones so he can be proud. Terra would like it on the terrace. There’s always a beautiful sunset there, even when it storms. 

But without the Defender, Aqua is left weaponless. Terra’s been requested not to ask about it, and he wants to honor that. He wants to, but he doesn’t want to dance anymore. “Where did you last see it?”

She sighs. “If I don’t answer that, would you feel I was punishing you?”

“Most definitely.” Smile.

It unnerves her. Aqua says a lot more with facial expressions alone. This one tells him, I wish you weren’t so difficult. “I last saw it with you.” Realizing what she said, she jerks. “Well, not you.”

“Is that how we’re going to call it?” Terra pulls his lips to his ears. “You, but not you.”

“You don’t have to put on a brave face for me, Terra.”

“I’m not. Laughing about it just feels better.”

She grimaces. “I don’t think it’s funny.”

“I don’t either, but what else am I going to do?” Terra drops the book on a nearby table. “What’s the plan?”

“Well...” She wraps herself tighter. “I don’t know what I can do other than trace Xehanort’s steps. Ienzo mentioned several journals that he left behind.” 

Terra swallows a lump in his throat, his fist balling into itself like a feral in defense.

“Aqua—”

“Don’t worry, it won’t be so bad.”

“Stars,” he curses.

“It will be fine.” Her arms are still crossed, and she lilts ‘fine’ to be an endnote, closing the conversation. Stepping by his side, she eyes the book and frowns. “I’ll talk to Yen Sid. I hardly think it’s necessary for you to reread that.” 

While Terra appreciates her vote of confidence, she’s dodging. “Isn’t there anything else we can do?”

“I already think you’ve proven yourself—”

“Not that. With Rainfell.” And no, he hasn’t proven anything. Yen Sid clearly doesn’t think so, either. “I can help.”

“I’ll have to be brave, that’s all.” She offers a weak smile. “And if it gets bad… I like to think that the Master is with me. It’s nice.”

Sure, it’s nice, relative to other things. Relative to being imprisoned in Darkness and fighting not to fade away, it is nice. While your body is doing things without you, it is nice. When you’re trapped in hell all alone, it is nice. But it’s still a foreign Keyblade—not exactly comparable to a hug they’ll never feel again, nor does it speak for their own hearts. A part of Aqua is missing, out there, alone. She’d feel that, too.

“Anyway,” Aqua says (another endnote), hands cupping her elbows, “I think there are better ways to host your Mark of Mastery. Let me talk to Yen Sid. You deserve better.”

There’s something sick and twisted about Aqua following Xehanort’s history, a guttural laugh at your most humiliating memory. Worse if she’s going to read all the horrifying details of how he conducted his experiments. She’s the one who deserves better. She (always) deserves better.

Aqua is being Aqua when she prefers to look at a future when she has her Keyblade and he passes his Mark. Simply. A much-needed distraction for her but as Terra looks down at the cover of Affairs of the Heart, the title worn down so that the leather imprint bleeds out the letters, Terra realizes he simply doesn’t care right now. 

May your heart be your guiding key is a phrase they all grew up with, but the heart is fickle. A growing part of his knows one thing: he has to do something about this. 

His heart wouldn’t rest if he doesn’t try—it already barely takes a breath, what with remembering everything that’s happened twelve years ago. Aqua never pins it on him. Never, even when he asks if she blames him. What’s the point of accepting the title of Master if the honor of having it is empty? 

Terra enters the kitchen to no one else but Ven, who has his feet propped up on the dining table next to a half-eaten piece of strawberry cake with a Gummiphone in his hands. 

“Have you gotten Kairi’s message?” Ven asks. 

“What message?”

Ven sighs exasperatedly. “What is it with you and Aqua never reading texts? You guys act like old people.” He waves his phone. “Kairi. She invited us to hang out at Destiny Islands with everyone else. It’d be cool to have fun. Like a vacation. Ever heard of that?”

“Everyone else?”

“Yeah.���

“That’s nice of her.”

Ven slaps his forehead and drags it down his face. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I’m thinking,” Terra says while he pulls a pitcher of water out of the fridge, “of helping Aqua find her Keyblade.”

It’s an obvious statement—Ven of course would want to help, too—but there’s something Ven hears that Terra isn’t saying. He’s smarter than people give him credit for. “What are you talking about?”

“Rainfell was last with me.” Terra chuckles something hoarse. “Well, not me.”

“And?”

“I think I can find it.”

“Are you nuts?” Ven leans forward on his chair with both hands on the armrests and whispers (as though Aqua is next door and not on the other side of the castle). “She’ll kill you.”

Terra sits at the marble countertop that separates the kitchen from the dining room. The Master used to say an open layout like this made it a more wholesome environment. “I have to. I’m the missing link in finding it, and she won’t recognize that.”

Ven meets Terra on the counter. “But what would happen to you?”

“Nothing. It’d be like reading memories.”

“Do you hear yourself? What if you see something disgusting?”

Disgusting as in what Xehanort has done to other people. Experiments. Torture. People Terra’s face has lied to and comforted and ridiculed, maybe secrets that no one knows. Would Terra relive them or would he watch them from afar like he’s spying? Will it hurt? Will he have control or is he going to be forced to watch whatever comes to mind and deal with the collateral damage later? Someone has to pay for these crimes. Xehanort never did and Robin Hood doesn’t exist. 

Somewhere, deep in the gutters of his heart lives a thought he’d never voice to anyone: maybe a walk down someone else’s memory lane would let him relive memories of Master Eraqus. That sounds like a good exchange for everything else.

His heart can’t lead him astray, anyway. It can’t take him down a path to Darkness if he cares this much, if he’s this ready to throw himself into the fire and deal with the burns, so long as he keeps good company.

“I don’t think it’s fair that Aqua has to do anything regarding Xehanort. She deserves peace.” 

Ven groans. There’s an unspoken pact of keeping this a secret between them. “You owe me a second vacation just for stressing me out.”

“Done deal.” Terra takes a swish. “Apparently the stars are really pretty at the beach.” 

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers Zero vol. 2 Kou Mukami [Track 4]

Original title: 囚われたこの手で自由を選ぶ

Source: Diabolik Lovers Zero Vol. 2 Kou Mukami [CD not owned by me]

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Ryouhei Kimura

Translator’s note: The way the story unfolds and ties in with Kou’s personal history and trauma is really well done and reminded me a lot of the feels Laito’s Zero CD gave me. The latter was the first Zero CD I ever translated so it had that ‘surprise’ factor for me which is probably why it remains my favorite until this day. Kou’s CD would definitely be in my top 5 as well though because his dialogue is really powerful in this track.

This track was requested by @keithvalentinex​!  If you would like to request a translation, please contact me through IMs or drop an ask!

Track 1 ll Track 2 ll Track 3 ll Track 4 ll Track 5

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Track 4: Grasping Freedom With These Restrained Hands

T/N: Fake Kou’s dialogue has been put between ( ) and with the font changed to bolded italics.

( Hellooo~ Our little game of hide and seek has come to an end~ Your sweet scent is just so strong, I found you right away. ) 

You look over at the fake Kou. 

( Exactly...Because you’re spreading this sweet fragrance which SHOULD have faded away all over the place... )

You flinch. 

( So, care explain this to me!? )

“Good question.”

( Ah...Could you be the one behind it? I guess I’ll just have to get rid of you first so this girl can get eaten? In that case, should I hurt you even more? )

You protest. 

( I’m sick of this ‘stop!’ or ‘don’t do that!’, you know!? You have no value beyond being a prey so SHUT IT. )

You go silent again. 

( I know! It’d be a shame to waste it on guys like you but I guess I have no other choice. Take a look around you. There’s looots of glass pictures, right? Once broken, the shards make for a letal weapon. Like this...!! )

The painting demon activates his magic to shatter one of the paintings. 

*SHATTER*

“...!! Fall back...!!”

Kou quickly pushes you out of the way and gets stabbed instead.

“...Arghーー!!”

*Cling cling*

“Ah...”

( Ahahaha! You look like an old, worn-down rag! (1) )

“Ugh...Ah...I’m fine so...You just stay there!”

( Hahaha. You still want to protect her when you’re all beaten up yourself? I wonder why you’re so persistent? I don’t get it. 

...If you were to be devoured by this museum, you get to be displayed as a beautiful painting, you know? Drawings remain beautiful forever, so why are you being so reluctant? )

“Beautiful...forever...?”

( Exactly~ Locked within the canvas, you get to please people’s eyes for eternity! Isn’t that true bliss? You should feel happy! I’ll turn you into an artwork this museum can be proud of. )

“Inside the painting...Forever...That’s no different from prison.”

( Haah? Did you say something? )

“We aren’t art pieces! Me nor her! Is there truly happiness to be found in being locked away into a painting and turned into a spectacle for others to enjoy...? You’ve got to be kidding me!”

Kou gets up.

“No way I’d let her suffer such a fate!”

( ...What’s with that cocky expression? You sure have the nerve to talk all high and mighty to me in this situation. )

“I can! I will! Because I know! ...In the past, I was locked in a place much dirtier and worn-down than this one. Because I was pretty, they treated me like a plaything. There wasn’t any happiness to be found there.”

He raises his head.

“But things have changed! I was able to set foot in the outside world, and I met her. ...I fell in love, and was finally able to find my own way of living. Even if I’m loathed, or covered in dirt, I’d much rather be free, than stay beautiful forever but remain locked up!”

You nod. 

“Heh...It’s just like you said. I can’t give up. We’ll return to that house together, and go back to our old lifestyle, smiling side-by-side. ...I definitely won’t give up. Let’s leave this place together!”

( Haah...? Are you dumb? You two don’t have a choice! Being devoured and becoming part of this museum’s collection is your only fate! )

Kou suddenly turns around, facing his doppelganger.

“Even if it were to get on its knees and BEGS, I still wouldn’t want to live in this dirty, moldy museum!”

( Tsk...Know your place, you lowly prey!! Whatever! I won’t even turn you into food. Instead I’ll lock you up inside the glass picture like earlier and shatter you to pieces...!! )

The doppelganger runs up to Kou, attacking him.

*Thud*

“...Ah!”

*Cling*

“Ugh...”

( Hehe, does it hurt~? You were talking all big earlier, but you can’t even release your hands from my grip! )

“Ugh...Ackーー!! Fuck...!!”

The fake starts dragging Kou towards one of the glass pictures.

( You can watch this guy shatter into a million pieces from over there. Afterwards I’ll suck your blood plenty and feed your shriveled self to the museum. You tried so hard to fight back but TOO BAD! )

“Ugh...You’re the unfortunate one...You fake!!”

Kou fights back, getting the upper hand. 

*Rustle*

( ...Whaーー!? )

“You’re the one who will get locked up in the glass pictures!”

( ...!! ))

*THUD*

The fake Kou is sent flying backwards.

*THUD*

( Ah...Shoot...!! )

He starts melting into the picture.

“Just sink into the painting like that...Cough, cough...”

You stumble over to Kou. 

“You don’t need to force yourself to move! I’m fine! ...Honestly, it wasn’t all that painful at all. If anything, I was able to turn the tables because he let his guard down. 

*Thud thud*

( Fuck...!! That was an act...!? How dare you deceive me like that!? I’ll make both of you SUFFER until you lose your minds! You’ll regret what you did!! )

“Regret, huh? ...You look very pretty in the reflection of the candle lights. So, feeling happy over there, locked up in your ‘most beautiful state’?”

( Shut up!!  I’ll get out of here in no time!! )

“Just as I thought...You realized as well. That there is no happiness to be found in there...Say! You mentioned that if the glass picture is broken, whatever’s inside perished alongside, right?”

Kou slowly approaches the glass picture. 

( N-No way you could do that...I’d be like killing yourself, you know!? You definitely can’t pull that off! )

“I can. Right now, you are like my younger self. Enprisoned, suffering, struggling...Being kept alive behind bars for someone else’s pleasure. I’ve repeated those hell-like days time and time again in my dreams...”

You frown. 

“But that’s part of the past now. She put an end to it. ...So, farewell.”

( S-Stop...!! I can’t let things end here!! )

“Ugh...!!

*SHATTER*

( Waaaaah...!!!!! )

“...I can’t let this be the end either.”

Kou walks over to you.

“Sorry for the wait. Can you walk? Give me your hand.”

You grab hold of his hand.

“Mmh! Seems like you’re okay. ...Thank god.”

You embrace him.

*Rustle*

“...No way I’d let you be enprisoned. The wide, blue sky fits you much better than this grim, dark place after all~”

You tell him the same thing. 

“Mm~ Exaclty! You’re right. This place definitely doesn’t fit me either.”

Kou turns towards the broken glass picture.

“...He really got shattered to pieces. Even when broken, he still shimmers in the light...Guess pretty things regain their beauty even when destroyed. However...He is far from happy...”

You ask if he is okay.

“...Well then! Let’s head home! Ruki-kun is ーー No, Everyone’s waiting for us.”

They leave the museum as the door closes behind them. 

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translations notes

(1) The fake Kou refers to him as ボロ雑巾 or ‘borozoukin’, which means a dust cloth which is all worn down, most likely referring to the fact he was stabbed by multiple glass shards and therefore full of holes and such. 

[nimsajlove]

Moments (III/VI)

I think I will do some more, maybe the darker sides of the story? All of this is clearly at the beginning of the war, so I will move on to the end of it.

Brothers-AU  Ao3

Part II , Part IV

*~*

"Can you do me a favor?", Rex asked without looking up from his work. Droidbait waited, as if he could turn down an order. To his surprise, however, the captain gave him no work, but a packaged ration and cutlery. “Make sure she eats. I can't always run after her.", he grumbled and Droidbait grinned, then nodded. "Consider it done."

His search began in the hangar, sometimes she was still there, repairing minor damage to the small ships herself. But he only found the usual cleanup work here, so he went on. She wasn't in the canteen either, and the opposite would have surprised him a little. Rex wouldn’t send him off, if he found her here. But when her bunk and quarters were empty too, he was puzzled. His last stop was the medical bay, he let his gaze slide over the beds. Most of them were occupied, the medics wandered among the injured and only looked up briefly when he entered. He took a few steps and looked around. Before he could turn around to leave, as she wasn't wandering between the beds, he saw her. She crouched between two beds, Jesse and Fives. She was slumped against the wall, her face on her knees and wrapped in a dark coat. General Skywalker must had surrendered his robes to her... Kix hurried past him and glanced at the ration in his hands. "Finally! I thought Rex hadn't thought about it.", the medic huffed and stopped briefly to look at the togruta on the floor. "Should I maybe take her out of here?", asked Droidbait and Kix shook his head. “Then she'll be back sooner than you can imagine. Just make sure, that she finally eats something." 

It was easy for Kix to say that, he had a few months more experience with the young girl than he did! He wasn't known for necessarily being the best at comforting either, but he would try. She was one of them after all! His vod’ika. So he crouched carefully next to her and shook her shoulder, she was instantly wide awake and pulled the hood off her face. "Not my fault!", she exclaimed before looking around and blinking in confusion. Then her gaze fell on Droidbait and she relaxed. "Sorry.", she mumbled and rubbed her face, Droidbait sat down next to her on the floor and offered her the meal. "I'm not hungry.", she said immediately, but he still stuffed his cargo into her hands. “We know full well, that you haven't eaten since moving out. Do Rex this favor, okay?”, he muttered, watching her pout. "I'm not a youngling.", she grumbled, but still unpacked the cold ration and began to eat slowly.

There was silence for a few minutes and her eyes kept going up to the beds. "They won't go away.", Droidbait tried to calm her down, instead her look became even more gloomy. Damn it! Somewhere he must have taken a wrong turn... He hastily brought out a set of playing cards from a small pocket on his belt and offered them to Ahsoka. They had played many times before, she wasn't bad. "How about one game, we can stay here too.", he offered and to his relief she gave in, her eyes softened and lighted up a bit. "But only the simple variant, please.", she mumbled and picked up her cards, Droidbait watching her. 

For the first time she realized how attentive the gaze of the clone in front of her really was. And how easily he got her to play a game. Losing to Droidbait wasn't a bad thing for her, he played for calm and not for profit, even if they sometimes lost their dessert. Like most clones, he would do almost anything for something sweet. "Headache?", he asked quietly and took his own cards, unlike the deck of Cutup, his was much simpler and made it possible to play several variants of sabacc. Cutups were also marked and that often made it frustrating to play against him. "Yes…“, she nodded and rubbed her temple briefly, then her fingers ran up her Montreal with light pressure. "Don't worry, just a single game."

One game turned into two, three, even four games. By the end of the fifth her headache was gone and she was leaning against Droidbait, full and warm, it was not often that they were so near to each other. She was already napping again, when the door to the medbay opened and someone came in looking. "Down here, general.", the clone stated in amusement and the jedi peered around the bed, his gaze softened when he saw the two figures on the floor. "How nice to know, that she listened to someone.", he muttered and rubbed hia hands lightly together, Droidbait was always impressed by how well he could read the jedi's body language. Maybe because Ahsoka resembled him in so many ways? "Thank Rex for it." "Okay... But thank you anyway, Droidbait." 

*~* 

The loud growl echoed through the training hall and froze all clones for a moment. The laughter that followed moved most of them to return to their own business. A few shinys, however, moved to the spectacle that one of the clones and the young girl were offering.

"Come on! Or was that it?”, Hevy grinned and wiped his hands once on his pants before turning back to Ahsoka. She was cursing on the floor and rubbing her ribs, unlike her combat partner, she was covered with bruises. Her arms shimmered in green and blue under the reddish skin tone, her hands were bandaged for protection and she had also wrapped up her bare feet in a similar way. Puffing, she picked herself up again and looked for a firmer stand. "Attack from above commander, remember?", Hevy scoffed and the togruta immediately rushed at him again, her otherwise carefully hidden fangs bared. With a jerk she landed on his shoulders and clutched at them, she only stayed there for a few seconds. When Hevy threw her off again, however, it left red marks on his bare shoulders, it was proof of her strength. Because actually, she should have been stronger than him! Damn she was a jedi, for forces sake!

When her back hit the mat this time she stopped and covered her eyes with one arm, somehow the world turned a little. Steps retreated before coming back. With a puff, Hevy sat down next to her and pressed a bottle into her hand, that raised without a word. Like every time she let Hevy beat her up, the refreshment tasted better than ever! And like every time he got up after a few sips and pulled her back to her feet. "Let's go through that again slowly, the idea wasn't bad.", he encouraged her and she slipped into the defense stand next to him. “Without weapons, your hands have to end up somewhere else. More like here.", he explained and pointed once to his neck and throat, she resisted with all her strength to attack one of her brothers there. "Are you sure?", she asked and he nodded. "Of course, when it comes to survival, I'm not joking.", he explained to her seriously and then added: "And you have teeth, use them against opponents. Just maybe not against the droids, it'll just break your jaw.” Against her will, she had to laugh and tensed again before she was back on Hevy with one jump. Her hands immediately landed on his neck, but when he tried to shake her off again, she clawed his shoulders instead. She stayed there for a full three seconds before landing back on the ground. "How did you kill an akul with such thin arms.", the clone grinned after leaning over her a little. Her growl was as loud as the last one and the few spectators backed away, the shinys had never seen the little laughing girl so dangerous. "I have teeth, remember?", she mumbled and got up again. Every bone hurt her. "Maybe it's enough for today?", suggested Hevy and she nodded. 

It was frustrating to know, that Hevy was actually right. She was average in strength and size for a togruta, but compared to the war she was tiny! Puffing, she hung from the climbing unit and stared at her hands, which were clutching the shiny pole tightly. She was one of the few who used this scaffolding under the ceiling. After training, she usually joined the others on the way to the canteen, but today she was the last one to stay. "Dinner?", someone called up to her and she looked down, Hevy was standing under her and holding up a plate. The rations never looked particularly tasty, but they were warm and richer than the temple food. Her stomach growled loudly and she hastily swung herself down to her brother, instantly practically ripping the food out of his hand.

While she ate, Hevy sat down next to her. "You really need a shower.", he commented as he tugged at her tight top. It was soaking wet. The short shorts didn't looked any better either, they stuck to her in the same way and from the knees down they revealed the padawan's green and blue calves. She quickly swallowed the last bite, and Hevy immediately gave her something else. "Kix will kill me, if you don't use that.", he protested and with a quiet laugh she began to rub the balm into all the aching limbs. There was silence for a brief moment. "I didn't meant that… with the tiny and weak.", the clone suddenly mumbled softly and she looked up, so surprised that she forgot the cream that was still stuck on her fingers. She looked at his embarrassed expression and fought for a few seconds, before she snorted and kicked his thigh with her foot. "I know that, thank you." 

*~* 

Ahsoka stood a few meters away from the group and tried one last time to memorize the map on her datapad. She was infinitely grateful that her memory was better than her strategic skill, otherwise she would probably never have been able to remember this tunnel system! As steps approached, Rex or Master Skywalker probably, she turned the pad off and stuffed it into her backpack. "Don't worry, I remembered it.", she muttered without looking up. "I hope so, because the captain might be a little distracted.", the person next to her muttered and she looked up, Fives. Now she looked around, Echo looked in her direction and grinned broadly. “What are you doing? I want to take part!“, laughed the girl, if Fives and Echo planned a prank it could only be good! Besides, this mission was a bit of a boring routine, so any variety was welcome. "Do you want to get in trouble?", the clone teased and she stuck out her tongue before she swung the backpack onto her back and draped her lekku, so that not one of them rubbed anywhere. "Oh well, if we get caught I'll blame you two anyway."

Fives snorted in amusement at her side, before holding out a hand and opening it. Googly eyes, lots of googly eyes. She paused for a moment, then enthusiasm overcame her. Helmets with googly eyes, weapons with googly eyes, medkits with... "What have you already done?", she asked, taking a handful of the small plastic parts. Fives shrugged. “Not much, a couple of guns and two helmets. But we haven't gotten to him yet.", he grumbled and gave her a challenging grin. Of course, that's what he needed her for! "Oh, I know how to solve this." 

The tunnel was dark, that was good! Carefully she stuffed her googly eyes into a side pocket of her rucksack, she kept two in her hand. She then threw a look over her shoulder, Fives was just patting a shiny‘s helmet and, with the movement, left two little googly eyes on the side. Then he turned his face to her, despite the helmet she could guess the grin from the tilt of his head. All right, her turn.

"Rexter!", she shouted, took a run and landed on his shoulders. Fortunately, the ceiling was high enough. "Hey, get down kid. You can walk yourself.", he grumbled under her and pouting she leaned forward, propped herself up on his helmet and pressed her googly eyes onto it. "Spoiler.", she sighed and swung down again, Rex shook his head and walked on. She waited for Fives to catch up. "Done?", he muttered and she grinned broadly at him. "Right on the mark." 

"Fives!" Fives, Ahsoka and Echo sat up in their bunks. "Damn it.", Echo sighed, Fives just looked disgruntled. "I'm impressed, it took more than 12 hours.", laughed the togruta and pulled her legs into a cross-legged position, she did not intend to leave her seat. Fives gave her a sharp look, she just grinned wider. "That was the deal!", she reminded him and watched him and Echo leave the quarters.

She had her rest for 10 minutes, then the door opened and someone grabbed her arm. It took her exactly one second to identify the attacker as Rex. "Get up.", he growled and shooed her into the corridor. "What did I do this time?", she asked as innocently as possible, he didn't took it. "You didn't really believe, that you would be spared. Right?", replied the captain and showed her the way to one of the storage rooms. There, Echo and Fives were already dismantling and cleaning weapons. "Besides, he told me.", Rex smiled and left the small group alone during the detention. 

"Traitor.", Ahsoka muttered as she sat down next to Fives and began to take apart a blaster herself. That was the first thing the clones taught her. The reason was simple, everyone should be able to use a blaster correctly. "He figured it out by himself anyway.", he growled and then nudged her lightly in the side. "That belongs there.", he muttered, she started to assemble the blaster again. "Your way of taping up the eyes wasn't exactly subtle.", Echo added and there was silence for a while, then Fives offered her his forearm. Grinning, she bumped hers against it. "But in the middle of his jaig eyes, that was worth it!"

[sami-at-ciela]

Prompt 5, Bonus: Bounce

Or: “I had no idea what to write, so it became Puffski Sunday.”

A brief Puffski 101: puffskis are world-hopping puff people with stubby limbs. They travel from world to world, seeking adventure and nice places to live. They are my mascots. Meet them nice!

Shadowbringers spoilers? Maybe?

Also contains a few sentences at the end from an as-yet-unwritten meeting with Lord Vauthry. Spooky!

The round body of a puffski is quite rubbery, so they can shrug off impacts with ease.

One puffski named Billy had made his way to the First after exploring Eorzea for a time, as traveling between worlds was a simple task for the world-hopping puff people, bonus points for two worlds being connected. He wasn’t entirely sure where he would land, as none of his people that he knew of had ever been to the First, but he was sure he could find a nice adventurer to travel with.

Such a thought indicated his lack of understanding of the First.

The world transfer magic deposited him on the ceiling of the main plaza in Eulmore. Of course, he couldn’t stick there, so he promptly fell, bounced off the aetheryte, and landed on the floor, rolling to a stop a few paces away. Harrumphing and dusting himself off, he stood up. No one noticed the 6-inch-tall puffball falling from the ceiling somehow, which was equal parts a relief and a matter to grouse over for him.

Now that he was settled, he took in his surroundings. Opulent red and green and filigree trim surrounded him, and chandeliers dripping with jewels lit the area… not that they were necessary, given that it was the middle of the day (others would point out that it was not the middle of the day, but everlasting light). These people must be really rich! Billy mused. I’d have brought more widgets and artifacts if I’d known it was a buyer’s market.

Well, he couldn’t stay in one spot forever, so he stretched his stubby limbs and sauntered off. At this point, he could feel the stares on him, but no one was raising a fuss, which was ultimately better than the shocked reactions he’d received in some places. He stopped by what appeared to be an eatery of some sort and attempted to jump on a stool, but he couldn’t quite make it. So he pulled on the pant leg of a nearby patron. “Excuse me, sir, could you please help me onto the stool? I would like to see the counter!”

Chai-Nuzz looked down, saw Billy, and then jolted so hard his spectacles fell down his nose.

Billy just smiled and waved.

The man behind the counter was quick to react. “What’s the matter, Mr. Chai? We don’t have pests, do we?”

“I have no idea what this is,” Chai-Nuzz murmured. “I would have suspected an unusually small Sin Eater from Lord Vauthry, but it’s not the right color and has no business around regular food to begin with.”

“You can call me Billy, and I’m a puffski,” Billy said, as though that explained everything.

“Who said that?”

Chai-Nuzz squinted, lowered himself, and scooped Billy up before depositing him on the counter. “This ‘Billy’ did.”

Billy got the feeling that maybe this deal was going to go a bit sour for him. “Yes, hi,” he said, sheepishly scratching the back of his nubby head.

“Huh. He’s a cute little critter, and he has passable manners to boot,” the server said. “Why don’t you take the breakfast home to your wife and I’ll figure out what to do with him?”

“Breakfast?” Billy perked up. “Excuse me, Mr. Chai, right? If I buy my own breakfast, would you mind taking me with you? I would like to learn more about this place and the people who live in it!”

Chai-Nuzz arched an eyebrow. “Did you come in behind a new register?” A beat passed. “You won’t need to buy your own breakfast. There’s plenty in here, and I feel my wife will be willing to share.”

“That sounds like a fantastic deal! I’m sure a Discerning Man like you has a beautiful wife,” Billy said. “Is there a bag you would like to store me in, or should I just sit on your shoulder?”

“She’s certainly something,” Chai-Nuzz murmured before pulling out a pouch. “This should suffice.”

Billy hopped into the pouch, thanked Chai-Nuzz for the ride, and waited for a while. Soon, he became aware of being set down and the pouch opening. “Dulia, my dear, we have a guest,” Chai-Nuzz said from elsewhere, and with that, Billy hopped out of the bag.

He looked up at Dulia-Chai, in her fashionable glory, and waved. “Hi, pretty lady! You’re Mrs. Chai, right?” If it registered that Mrs. Chai was plus size for a Miqo’te, he paid it no heed, for puffskis in general and Billy in particular were not ones to judge based on size. Indeed, Billy took it as a sign that she may very well have some of the puffski spirit in her heart.

Dulia-Chai stared at Billy for five solid seconds before emitting a prolonged and borderline piercing squeal of utter delight. “Oh, my dear Nuzz! Wherever did you find such a delightful creature? And one so charming, too!”

“I found him at a restaurant,” Chai-Nuzz said, thoroughly understating the matter. “He calls himself Billy.”

“It is wonderful to meet you, Billy!” Dulia-Chai scooped Billy up and stroked his head lightly with one finger, demonstrating an awareness of scale. “Have you eaten this morning? I am certain we can spare you some morsels if not.”

“Not yet, but I appreciate your generosity!” Billy smiled and leaned into the finger petting. Such a gesture confirmed for him that Dulia-Chai had an innate understanding of the puffski spirit; one did not need to live with a puffski to display puffskish values and be a candidate for being an Honorary Puffski.

Breakfast itself was oddly silent, occupied mostly with the sounds of eating and clinking silverware. This was fine; Billy understood the need to focus on one’s food. Eventually, Dulia-Chai turned to Billy and studied him for a moment before declaring, “Billy looks a bit like Lord Vauthry, doesn’t he? A round body, stubby limbs, even the shape of his head… perhaps we can introduce them?”

“Oh? Is this Lord Vauthry the man who runs things around here?” Billy asked.

“You could say that,” Chai-Nuzz said. “He controls the Sin Eaters and grants us safety here in Eulmore.”

“Then I would very much like to meet him!” Billy bounced to standing, still holding a piece of chocolate-smothered pancake (and only now realizing how hard it was going to be to wash out of his fur).

“We ought to see what we can do!” Dulia chirped, and immediately began chattering about the people she would contact.

Billy simply grinned and enjoyed his pancake. What good fortune to be granted an audience with an important leader so quickly!

[On our next (?) episode...????]

Billy stood up, put his hands on his not-really hips, and began to speak. “Mr. Vauthry-”

“That’s Lord Vauthry to you.”

“Mr. Lord Vauthry, when a puffski has better table manners than you do, you ought to take a very careful look at how you’re doing things.”

[lixis-sin-cauldron]

Oh Raven (Sing Me A Happy Song) [Present Mic | Hizashi Yamada]

Rating: Explicit  18+ content MINORS DNI. Pairing: Hizashi Yamada (Present Mic) X fem!original character Word Count: 5k Kinks and Warnings : semi-public sex, exhibitionism, light choking, fingering, oral sex, vaginal sex, orgasm denial, dirty talk

Inspired to create this by the Citrus Dome Server Masquerade Collab!  Can also be read on Ao3 here: Oh Raven (Sing Me A Happy Song) Big thank you to the Goddess that is @thisisthehardestthing​ for beta reading!!!

Tori was no Pro-Hero, but she did all she could to inspire the people with her voice, her quirk amplifying the effect of joy to many. To her audience, she was as true a hero as any Pro. Perhaps that was why Midnight deemed her worthy of not only entertaining at the masquerade but also to attend.

Her manager was apprehensive about the invite, having heard some of the rumors of what could occur at this particular event, and just how private it was. Tori noted the claims but decided the chance not just to mingle with those she admired, but to also show them her adoration for their work–even if she would be unable to tell who was who–was too good to pass up. She promised to behave and went, ignoring further protests.

The event itself was the spectacle, so her performance was small. It took place in the main area of the large mansion; where the musical ensemble was seated during the duration of the gathering to play before and after she finished.

She took heavy breaths as she entered a side room after her show, set up for performers to use, and felt as if she would collapse from the nervousness that overwhelmed her body. From the moment she had stepped out and Midnight announced her, to the end when she finished the final line and walked away, she had felt tense and on edge. It was as if she was re-experiencing her first-ever live performance back when she was just an unknown hopeful.

Every song she had ever sung was about the concept of being a hero. To stand before her very inspirations and sing to them was dizzying. She had even recognized a few, despite their mask, thanks to their more apparent quirks. Yet she cast no judgment on them, even Heroes were human and what they did at the party was well within their rights to privacy.

After calming her nerves, she slid the colorful wig from her scalp and shook out the raven black hair that was tied beneath. Even artists enjoyed a sense of anonymity, and her colored hair had become an iconic look that allowed her to blend into the crowds when she wished to live a normal day.  Now that her performance was finished, she could do that very thing and meld into the Hero-filled crowd just as a masquerade demanded.

She slipped from her costume and into the prepared gown: open shouldered and black with golden trills, a giving split along her right side–allowing ease of movement– and exposing the black laced stockings that enthralled her legs into simple black heels. A simple ensemble compared to the more extravagant ones the other guests wore but she had little time to prepare if she wanted to enjoy the event herself.

Golden drop earrings and a simple matching chain necklace adorned her skin, a touch of red lip gloss along with dark eyeliner was all that she added after removing the show makeup, the rest of her face hidden by the raven inspired mask that now covered it. With these final touches, she stepped out of the room through a different door and slipped into the crowd, another unknown who came to partake in the delights of the night.

She moved from room to room, conversing with strangers one after another. She recognized some but held her awe at their meeting. The most breathtaking parts of her night were when she ventured into some of the more private performances, where unknowns and heroes alike showed their skills in various techniques - Techniques that made her heart pound, throat dry and insides tighten with need.

She was approached more than a few times by masked suitors, handsome and beautiful, even hidden beneath their masks. Some to dance, others to partake in the night’s more stimulating acts. There were times she almost gave in to their sensual words, but she politely refused, dazed at the idea. Not the judgments of it, but that she herself would be eaten up into this world of physical delights and would not come out the same.

“Enjoying yourself?” a voluptuous female voice whispered into her ear, causing her to spin. Midnight straightened, her mischievous smile on her lips as she twirled a wine glass in one hand.

Tori swallowed, “Midnight. Hello.” She had to wonder if Midnight knew who she was.

“Oh, my little songbird. You look so lost.”

Songbird, the nickname Midnight had given Tori when she arrived. Tori gave a lyrical laugh, her quirk slipping through with the task, “I won’t deny feeling overwhelmed, but yes I am enjoying myself.”

“Hm, I noticed you had a few dance partners, but none remain? Did their movements not entice my little bird?”

“Ah. No, I think not. I think I am more of an onlooker for tonight.”

“The night is still young and there are plenty of birdwatchers waiting for their sighting,” she held out a hand, and Tori took it gingerly, apprehensive at her words. The Heroine spun her, twirling her and making her dress spin. The action took her by surprise and made her laugh with enjoyment, her laugh causing a few heads to turn at the musicality of it.

Midnight removed her grasp and allowed her to spin alone before leaving to continue her hosting duties.

Tori slowed, more at ease after the moment. Sighing with a smile, she ventured further and found herself again in the main room where the musical ensemble played beautiful music. She listened, allowing herself to fall into the sounds.

“Excuse me,” a breezy male voice intruded, interrupting her thoughts. As she took in the speaker, she was taken aback by their mask. A regal lion, covering most of his face aside from the mouth. While startling, it was also fitting as long blonde locks flowed around the mask and his neck to create the dazzling mane. The length undeterminable as some of it was held up in a loose bun. A black suit and vest with a golden tie accented his frame, matching to her own attire. He gave her a wide grin, his red eyes analyzing intensely and somewhat hungrily through the mask.

“I’m sorry?” she peeped, unsettled by the gaze.

“No, I am the one who is sorry. I seem to have startled you. I just had to say something before I lost you again,” he held out a hand, beckoning hers. Not a demanding gesture, just one that was done in greeting.

Not wanting to be rude, since there was nothing to fear at the gathering despite its atmosphere, she placed her hand in his in reply, “you’ve been searching for me?” she asked as she did so.

He bent and placed a kiss on the back of her hand, gazing up at her, “All night, my beautiful Raven.”

She slipped her hand from his grasp easily, holding it to her chest, feeling her heart race. They were honeyed words, easily spoken to any person here but they still made her blood rush, “and now you’ve finally found me.”

“Only because I was lucky enough to hear your exquisite laughter while you danced with our host. A moment later and I would have missed you and my search would continue.”

“And what do you hope to gain from that search?”

“Very little… or the world. We shall see. For now, I only ask…” He held out his hand yet again, but not in greeting but in offering, “a dance?”

As if he predicted the change, the ensemble began a new song. The pounding in her chest became louder, the beat resonating in her ears. She swallowed, surprised at the fear she felt–as though she would be eaten alive by the lion before her. It was just a dance, not even her first that night. She could say no to any other requests just as she had to the others.

She gave a guarded nod and took his hand. He took lead quickly, sweeping her into his embrace and on to the dance floor. He controlled their movement effortlessly, one hand holding hers with the other on her waist. While she was trained to dance due to her career, she still felt some unease when doing ballroom dances. There was no unease with him though, where she felt unsure, he was not and led her even when she faltered.

“You’re very skilled,” she remarked.

“You would be surprised at the skills they expect a hero to have,” they spun and she felt as if she was flying, a laugh of excitement escaped her lips, “the things I would do to hear more of that laughter,” he purred into her ear as they came together.

She felt her throat dry, a tingling rushing through her at the words. “Just my laughter?” she asked, her voice breathy.

“Oh no, I would love to hear all your ranges; I do admit an addiction to your laughter though.” He gave a knowing grin, as if he knew all her secrets and would give her anything she wished for.

The song finished and the dance ended. Releasing his hold, he took her hand once again and placed another kiss upon it, “A delight. Thank you.” He did not release the hold though and she did not remove it, not wanting to lose the warmth it gave. Their eyes locked upon one another.

Although a new song began and with it a new dance, they did not move. The dancers simply moved around them. He ran his thumb gently along her knuckles, “May I show you something?” he asked softly, breaking the silence.

The mystique of the moment was broken along with that silence and she remembered where she was, the things that took place. She knew his wants and the truth behind his honeyed words and hungry eyes. “I-“

“I promise, I will do nothing you do not want and will not touch you unless you give permission. I mean it, I only want to show you something.”

Her denial was trapped in her throat; her curiosity now piqued.  Biting her lip, she gave her permission with a slight nod, unsure of her voice. His eyes drifted to her lips as she bit them and she saw him swallow, his Adam’s Apple bobbing with the hunger in his eyes increasing. What had she just gotten herself into? she wondered.

He led her through the twirling bodies, his hand never letting go of hers. Through hallways and up flights of stairs, he led her to an unassuming door with no one around. He paused at it, staring at the doorknob and she heard him sigh with relief. He released his grasp of her hand and reached into his pocket, pulling out a key which he slipped into the keyhole. She heard it click and he opened the door, holding it open for her to enter.

Fighting her nerves, she stepped inside. A few steps in the room reacted and dim lights fluttered on, giving light to a regal bedroom with a large bed. As the locked door hinted at, no one else was inside. Fear pounded through her as she spun to look at the lion who had led her right into his den. As she had entered the room, he had removed his gold tie and wrapped it around the outer doorknob; the door clicked shut behind him.

“You said-“

“I keep my promises,” he affirmed, holding his hands up in a sign to remain calm, “This room is more than it seems.”

“And the tie?”

“While the room is private, Nemuri did give a key to a handful of people. It is just a sign, to ensure no sudden visitors.”

“You say Midnight’s name so casually,” Tori remarked, surprised but cautious.

He gave a side smirk, “We’re kind of close. May I?” he motioned towards the direction of one of the walls, where a full wall-sized TV sat turned off.

He walked towards it and her. She stepped back, giving him room as he strode past. “I’m not interested in viewing any… films.” She quipped, eyeing him.

The statement seemed to have surprised him, he paused and let out a bellowing laugh. The sound stunned her, not having expected such a loud sound from the breezy voice. It also sounded familiar.

He calmed himself from his fit.      

“I did not expect that,” he stated, giving a Cheshire grin, “you can trust me. This is no video, nothing recorded can compare,” he finished walking to the wall beside the TV and flipped a switch. The large panel came to life, but it was no TV; the darkness faded and became a window. She stepped forward and stared, amazed at the sight.

Below them was the main hall where they had just been dancing, the guests still dancing to music she could no longer hear. The gowns swirled in hypnotic patterns while hair flowed with the created drafts.   Along the walls and the edges of her sight, she saw guests conversing as well as being enticed with their partner. She could see the movements of the musicians as their fingers swayed along their instruments. The view was amazing, and every glance gave a new scene to see or miss.

“Beautiful,” he commented, taking place beside her.

“It is,” she agreed, breaking her gaze and looking at him, relaxed now that he was proving himself trustworthy…ish. As she watched at him, she flushed when she caught him staring at her instead of the view. Realizing what his comment had really meant, she turned her gaze back to the ballroom below.

“I…” he swallowed, “was ecstatic when Nemuri told me you would be at this event, not only attending but to sing as well…”

She felt cold at the words, her eyes once again turning to him. He knew who she was, he really had been looking for her at the party and not just been flirting.

He gave her a tender smile, seeing her unease. “I’ve been trying to find a way to approach you for a while, but our schedules are so conflicting, and being discreet is difficult. Just to speak to you again is all I wanted.”

She contemplated his words, studying him, “We’ve… met?” was he a crazed fan or a hero she had met in passing?

With another smirk, he reached up and placed a hand on his mask, his other reaching and unclipping whatever held it in place.  As the disguise moved, she felt her unease fade and be placed with astonishment.

“Present Mic,” she whispered. He wasn’t just a hero she admired; he had been one of her biggest inspirations for her work as well as the reason she had gained so much notice in the past few months. She had been on one of his radio shows, he had found her work and demanded an interview and blasted her songs non-stop for the whole day.

“Hizashi, please.”

“I… I couldn’t. I knew you were a fan but…” her words stumbled as she spoke, recalling his gazes and touches.

“I was a fan, but once I had that interview… I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I had to know you, but that interview made it impossible to… I had to find you tonight, or I may never have another chance.”

He started to raise his hand, but she stepped back. “They’ll see.” she exhaled, suddenly very aware of the window.

He smiled, looking hurt at her movement, “They won’t. It’s one way. To them, it is just a painting.”

“Oh…”

“Tori.” Her name caused her to jump, he raised his hand again, holding it out to her, “you can trust me.”

She stared at the hand and swallowed. She had wanted to see him again too but had buried it, expecting to never satisfy the desire. Was this real? Or just a way for him to entertain himself at a party? Trembling she took his hand, the feeling so different now that she knew who he was. The mystery from the masquerade now gone.

Pulling slowly, he turned her hand and he raised her palm to his lips, placing a gentle kiss upon her inner wrist, sending shivers through her body. Her insides tightened at his gaze: ravenous, needy, hopeful, “I looked all over, not even realizing I had passed you so many times. Until I heard that magical laugh, I was sure my prey had been caught by another.”

Another kiss; his fingers laced through hers. He pulled her closer, her forearm pressed against his chest and she was only a few inches from being in his embrace. With his free hand he hovered over her mask, “May I?” he asked, not touching her. Keeping his promise.

It felt like the last line of defense she had, with it gone she would be overcome by the night’s atmosphere and she would lose herself… to him.

“Yes.”

The raven mask lifted, her hair flowing around the strap and back down her shoulders, hiding some of her face. It was discarded to the floor, along with the lion mask that had hunted her. He brushed the locks side, running his fingertips along her cheek; barely touching and leaving a trace of longing for more on her skin. He leaned towards her, lips floating just above hers, but he paused, holding back.

“I almost forgot to-“ his words, his request, were cut off as she closed the gap and pressed her lips against his, finally succumbing to the need that had been building all night. He released the entwined fingers and placed both hands on the back of her neck, pulling her deeper into the kiss. Their lips parted and tongues traced each other, wanting to be as close together as possible.

They parted, breathing deeply; his hands remained where they were as they breathed, their eyes studying each other. She noted her red lip gloss now on his lips, she smiled at the sight. He smiled in return.

“I’ll… make this easier,” he started, swallowing, “just… tell me when you want me to stop.” There was so much meaning in the statement, all the permission she could give. She nodded in agreement. “I need to hear you say it.” He demanded softly.

“I’ll tell you.” It was all he wanted; all the resistance left in her gone.

He pulled her into another kiss. When that broke, he pressed her back against the window, another kiss that then led to her chin, down her neck, following the flow of her throat to her collarbone where he bit gently, feeling her pulse racing against his lips.

Each kiss, every touch, sent shivers of excitement through her, heavy breaths laced with moans escaped her lips as he worked.  His hand found the opening along her leg of the dress and slid inside, tracing her thigh. He groped, kneading the soft flesh, hand trailing upwards until he found the strap of her thong. His fingers slid underneath, moving under the fabric until he encompassed her buttocks, squeezing and lifting her, pressing himself into her.

She squeaked, both in surprise at the action and the feel of him, his growing need already apparent. Her moans increased as his mouth continued to explore her flesh. She slid her fingers into locks of his hair, gently running through the golden mane. His gaze returned to hers at the touch, pressing his lips to hers once again.

“Such beautiful sounds,” he growled, breathing heavily, “I’ve done so little yet…” he grinned, “makes me wonder just what songs my Raven will sing for me if I do more…” he trailed the fingers still in the strap of her throng along her hip bone, finding the soft fuzz hidden beneath the fabric between her legs. She was panting at the caress, the feel of his fingertips teasing to explore further.

“Oh… my little bird, you make me want to eat you right up.”

Hooking a finger, he started sliding the thong down, taking a knee, and carefully lifting her leg. His eyes never left hers as he worked. He slid the garment over her heel and let it fall to the ground, still clinging to her other ankle.

His hold remained on her leg and began kissing the stocking slowly upwards, once at a certain point, he braced her against the wall and lifted her, placing the bend of her knee on his shoulder.

“Hi-Hizashi… what are you…” her words cut off in a gasp as he nipped at the flesh of her inner thigh.

“Careful, keep saying my name like that, and I may not be able to control myself,” he growled, smirking against her skin. “I just want to see just how sweet you taste.” His free hand ran up her opposite leg, brushing aside the skirt of the dress so he had full view of his meal.

Gently, he reached up and grazed her, pushing between her folds with a finger and feeling the wetness that had been building over the course of the party. A rumbling moan rolled in his throat, “already so eager. Lucky me.” As he spoke, he explored and found his goal, a whimper of excitement escaping her as he slowly rotated his thumb over the eager bump. He held her steady as she twitched at the motion.

“Shall I stop?” he teased.

“Don’t stop.” She begged, her insides twisting with need.

As his thumb worked, his other fingers slid down and found her entrance–wet and ready. “One or two…?” he asked, as he slid one finger inside, the other pressing patiently waiting to join. She squirmed in pleasure as he moved inside her, her moans taking on musical tones. “Two,” he decided, sliding the other inside.

His fingers worked inside, curving and pressing into her g-spot. He grinned as he moved, “if I write my name out, will that make you mine forever?” A sharp breath from her makes him chuckle, “Already? Your insides are squeezing me so tightly, were you that pent up? Hm?”

“Yes,” she sang in reply, his rhythm increasing. “I’m… don’t stop. Ah!” She let out a gasp of frustration as he did exactly that, stopping his movements as she was reaching her edge. “Why?” she whined.

He stuck his tongue out at her, giving a teasing wiggle “because I want to savor it. If I make it too easy, you’ll get bored.”

“I… don’t think that’s possible,” she huffed.

“Good to know,” he stated with a chuckle. He moved his thumb, causing her to shiver in anticipation for him to start again, however, he instead pushed her lips aside showing a clearer view of her eager nub. He ran the tip of his tongue over it slowly, circling it as he began to slowly move his fingers inside her again. As she shuddered, he braced her tightly against the wall, his other hand still locking her leg over his shoulder.

He continued to tease her, not fully taking her in, running his tongue along her slit, wetting his throat with her juices. He finally relented when she grasped his hair again, clutching forcefully but not pulling, giving him a push, begging him to do more. He followed her urging, enveloping her into his mouth fully and sucking. He could feel her spasms in mini orgasms around his fingers as he worked her.

He pulled his hand from her and wrapped it around her thigh for further support as he buried his face deeper, sliding his tongue inside.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” she repeated the word over and over in her sing-song voice, her mind engulfed in the pleasure. That small ability to speak left her as well when he continued to devour her. All she could emit were musical squeaks as she reached her threshold once again. He didn’t stop this time. He felt her reaching it, letting her tip over the edge.

As she did so, he felt her body relax and he slid her leg from his shoulder and secured her in his arms, cradling her as she came down from the climax. She let out an intoxicated giggle as she regained some awareness, turning to face him with a smile. “Wow.”

He gave his signature grin in return, “I take it you enjoyed yourself?” he hummed as she straightened herself, not leaving his embrace.

“A little,” she admitted in a breathless timbre while reaching up and wiping his mouth with her thumb before pressing her lips to his. He took the action happily, enjoying her exploring him with her tongue. They broke for air, a giddy smile still on her face. He could feel all the tension from her nervousness had evaporated, her eyes staring at him just as hungrily as he had been all night.

He growled, “ah, fuck. Turn around,” he demanded, loosening his hold enough for her to do so.

As she did she came to remember the window of the hall below and was surprised to see that the dancing had stopped, Midnight now speaking to the guests.

“Don’t worry,” Hizashi whispered in her ear, “it’s nothing worth hearing.” She was going to reply but her words caught her throat as she heard the crinkle and tear of plastic.

“Already?”

The sound of his belt and zipper followed, “Tori, I’ve been dreaming of this moment since I met you. I am way past ready for you… Is that a problem?” His voice hinted at worry in that final bit.

“Not at all.”

“Splendid,” he slid the fabric of her dress out of the way, her bottom now in full view. “Fuck, you have an incredible ass,” he growled as she gave a small wiggle in reply. He gripped her hips, using his foot to spread her legs further. “Brace against the window… and let me know if the heels become a problem.”

“Yes, si-Ah.” He pressed at her entrance, finding his way.

He slid in gradually, relishing the feeling of her encompassing him. He stopped pressing into her half-way, rocking back and forth as she shuddered at the feel of him inside, stretching her walls to take him in. Her unfocused gaze settled on the party below, her heart pounding at the idea that they could see her. She wasn’t the only one with this thought.

“Quite a show it would be, don’t you think?” Hizashi hummed as he moved, “if they could see the marvelous Tori like this?”

“But – ah – they can’t so – ah.”

“Oh, but – mhm – I could make it so they could. Wouldn’t you love that?”

“No, th- Ah!” her words cut off, as he thrust into her. Her hand slammed against the window at the force, giving her better purchase.

“Oh no, my beautiful raven, I know you’d love it,”  he reached over, entwining her fingers in hers on the window while the other gripped her hip tightly, making her move in time with his thrusts. “Letting them see how gorgeous you are with me buried deep inside you.” he whispered against her ear, breath tickling the shell of her skin.

Another growl rumbled in his throat as she tightened around him, his words clearly arousing her, though she would deny that. “Oh, yes, yes. You would love that. Your devoted fans hearing the happy sonata you’re singing for me right now, sounds only I get to hear.” His pace intensified; her cries growing to a crescendo.

“Hi…zashi- Ah-,” his name barely escaped between her moans.

“Mm, yes?”

She turned to look at him, eyes half-lidded from the sensations overwhelming her mind. “You…you’re amazing.”

His pace slowed, his hand slipping from her hip to encircle her chin and throat, pull her back against his chest as he tilted her mouth to his.

“Only the best for my favorite listener,” he breathed, he thrust roughly into her at his slowed pace, causing her to cry out and clench tightly around him. He continued the harsh movement. As he did, he released his grip on her hand and gripped her shoulder so that his face rested over. He bit into his finger slightly, using the pain to keep his mind clear and from his own edge as he performed.

His motion went unnoticed as she succumbed to the pleasure of him pressing deep inside of her, allowing herself to fall into his hold. If anyone walked into the private room now, they would hear a concert like no other as her quirk created a symphony from her moans. Her pitch increased as she once again came closer to the crest of her aria.

He placed a gentle pressure on her throat, her moans quieting as he pressed.    

“Cum for me, baby, I want to feel you,” he hissed as her grip strangled his cock, his deep thrusts increasing in speed. Her mind clouded over, enveloped completely, and totally in the bliss that filled her body. She reached her pinnacle, her back arching as shockwaves rushed through her, a soundless whimper escaping her lips as she shook.

He held her still as she shuddered, resting inside her as he fought off his own torrent of pleasure as she convulsed around him. As she calmed, he slid from her.

“Did… you…?” she panted.

He hummed in delight, “Not yet, Songbird.”

Struggling with his slacks for a moment to ensure they didn’t leave him yet, he scooped her into his arms, one arm bracing her back and the other under her knees. Her thong, still loosely clinging to Tori’s ankle, finally fell freely to the ground, forgotten.

Hizashi brought her to the edge of the bed where he began to caress her once more, running his hands along her legs. Tenderly, he slid her heels off and tossed them aside, then leaned in and kissed her before reluctantly parting so he could remove his jacket and start working at the vest.

“The night is still young and I haven’t even started with you. Not to mention…” he paused, eyeing her with a sinful smirk, “I still need to see everything that dress is hiding from me.”   

@lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten @cheeriecherry

[skinks]

mr wentworth yes i help my son with his goofy voices yes i am a dilf tozier has the salt n pepper hair of god (oscar isaac) and the sexy librarian glasses to match

god I had never even considered that... the range of this...

Went starts going gray at 32 when Richie is 5 and it’s all the church women’s group can talk about... indirectly, of course. Oh, but he’s so young. Oh, he’ll be balding next. Oh I don’t know, doesn’t he look... distinguished? Mrs Nash from just down their street sees him doing rock-paper-scissors with his son Richard in the grocery store to determine whether or not Richard is allowed ice cream, and Dr Tozier is laughing because he’s winning, and he’s winning because Richard doesn’t know his father can see his little hidden hand reflected in the freezer cabinet, tucked behind his back. Richard’s laughing too, even though he’s losing, and bleats, “Again! Dad again,” eyes shining big as planets with coke-bottle rings.

“Don’t you know what best two out of three means? That was four draws ago.”

“No! No, I’ll win!” The boy shakes his head so hard his whole body rocks from side to side, then clings up at Dr Tozier’s middle with sticky hands. His very... trim middle. Helen’s own Rory, God love him, he enjoys a sudsy six-pack too much these days to keep a middle like that. “Two outta three! Three ice creams please Dad please please Dad please watch I can count to a hundred—”

“Well, we’re not playing hide-and-go-seek right now, Rich. And I beat you, didnt I?”

“Yeah!”

“Right. So why don’t you go get Dad six apples instead, alright? If you can do a hundred, six’ll be pie.” Dr Tozier claps his big hands gentle to the boy’s round cheeks, until they goldfish.

“Easy as,” they chant together. Helen props herself up with the handles of her own cart, the can of little hotdogs going slack in her hand.

“Six apples, then come right back. You got that, doc? You pick the color.”

Richard nods like he’s trying to detach his own head. Dr Tozier puts one hand just briefly on Richard’s dark mophead hair, like he’s giving the boy a blessing for his apple adventure. His hand is really quite broad, thinks Helen, popped out square at the thumb-joint. Matches that jawline of his, something whispers darkly in her stomach. Then the boy’s off, tearing down the aisle on a squeaking chariot of scuffed-gray sneakers and babbling what sounds like a Bugs Bunny impression, repeated on a loop. What’s up doc what’s up doc what’s up doc, fading around the corner to the fruit. Peculiar. Helen once saw the Tozier boy eat a worm at the park while pushing her youngest on the swings, after another solemn-eyed little boy with a faceful of freckles had carefully presented it to him in the sand box. Most peculiar.

Dr Tozier watches him go, then turns back to the freezer cabinet, and sticks two cartons of ice cream into his shopping cart—the very sugary kind. And the man is a dentist!

Helen puts her hand on her chest to calm the trilling schoolgirl rush of her heart, and then stops herself at the sight of her own wedding ring. Get a hold of yourself, Mrs Nash! For Pete’s sake! She trundles her cart over for some chit-chat. Afternoon, Doctor, she says, lovely weather. A perfect neighbourly opener. It is lovely; bright and warm and clear and golden, like honey outside. She’s quietly smug about her new blowout. Dr Tozier is wearing a crisp shirt with buttons like neat soldiers and short sleeves, exposing lean forearms. Yes, a lovely day. Helen swallows.

“Yes, good for the lawn,” replies Dr Tozier.

“We missed Margaret at book club this week,” Helen hedges.

“Oh, that’s right,” says Dr Tozier, and the fine lines at the corners of his eyes when he grins are even more distracting without the facemask he’s usually wearing, when Helen drops in for her check-ups. He pushes his spectacles up the strong slope of his nose. They’re wiry like him, steely gray to match his eyes. “She meant for me to tell you, or Diana. Maggie’s been in Skowhegan for the week at her mother’s. My mother-in-law is a woman of... nervous disposition, shall we say. Maggie didn’t think she’d cope with two Tozier men at once, now that Richie’s started losing his teeth.”

“Ohhh,” Helen coos. That must explain the ice cream. She puts her hand near to Dr Tozier’s arm, then away, then near, then away again for good. A neighbourly distance. Margaret is a lovely, lucky woman, even if she does wear flared pants. Hippie to yuppie pipeline’s alive ‘n’ flowin’, Rory always grunts whenever the Toziers come up in conversation. Helen imagines a picket fence between their bodies, and calms. “My Wendy was the same, I’m sure you remember.”

“Yes,” says Dr Tozier mildly. “You brought her in six times as I recall it, Mrs Nash.”

Mrs Nash. Honestly, like she’s his schoolteacher. It’s a little rude. Admittedly he does look quite, quite young with his faintly curling weekend-hair, if not for the new gray blazing a trail back from his temples like virgin snow. Helen is undeterred, even if something quivers inside at the thought of the word virgin in conversation with Dr Tozier. Music tinkles tinny through the ceiling speakers, and it puts Helen in mind of potted plants, or elevators. This is a lovely chat. “Well, you hate to see them suffer, don’t you? I’m sure Richard’s the same, lots of tears—”

“No, actually, Richie keeps on finding things to hit himself in the face with and knock out more teeth,” Dr Tozier interjects. He raises his eyebrows and speaks hushed, as if this is a secret for Helen’s ears alone. The thought makes her dizzy. “It’s my fault, I made the mistake of giving him a quarter for the first one. That’s why he’s not invited to Grandma’s. Lot of antiques.”

“Oh,” says Helen, taken aback. She has three girls; little boy behavior is as yet mystifying. “Well.”

“I’m joking, Helen,” Dr Tozier says cheerfully.

“Oh. I—I see. What a relief.”

He opens a freezer chest to examine a bag of frozen peas. “Maggie’s mom is deaf as white cat, she’d never notice.”

Helen tries to wipe her clammy hands on her dress without being obvious. Her face is hot, but she hopes her cardigan conceals the effect that the chill of the freezer aisle is having under her bra. She also hopes that it doesn’t.

He really does have such a slender, pleasant face, always with an air of casual, amused expectancy hanging around him. Haloing him, like that bright yellow light above the chair in his practice, blocked out when he leans over and slips his fingers inside. Helen supposes that’s what graduating medical school must do to a man, what marrying and fathering young and having one’s own practice by the end of such a turbulent decade as the nineteen-seventies must elicit. The ability to put people at ease, to—to say open wide and know the people of Derry trust him enough to comply. To open themselves. Helen’s breathing catches. Dr Tozier idly checks his sensible watch, still smiling the unhurried smile of a man who very rarely does his own grocery shopping anymore. Everyone knows you pick up the ice-cream last.

Helen gathers herself. This is the longest conversation she has entertained with Dr Tozier without children or the squeaking of latex gloves between them, and she’s gripped by the terribly silly need to be interesting. “Speaking of white cats, I couldn’t help noticing your hair, Wentworth—”

“DADDY!”

Dr Tozier blanches, whipping around to scan the end of the aisle. He is a long line of tense instinct tuned to thrum into action at one specific frequency, knuckles white on the cart handle. His cart bumps into Helen’s. It is thrilling.

“Fuck,” Dr Tozier mutters, and that’s thrilling too, he swore, oh, the boy’s probably fine Wentworth, don’t go, why don’t we just stay right here with the frozen goods and—

Then Richard comes barrelling back down the aisle like a colt on new legs covered in old Band-aids, with his arms full. The fluorescent strip-lights gleam white on Dr Tozier’s broad shoulders and he sags, like snow dropping from a branch, with relief.

“Hey, lunkhead,” he says, sounding shaky, but Richard is only five and would never know it. He’s babbling again. Seems to Helen like the boy’s as a hydrant overflowing on a hot day; entertaining and welcomed at first, until it becomes a nuisance when you begin to understand it won’t shut off, and have to call the firemen.

“Nyyeeeeeah,” Richard greets his father, tousled and bug-eyed with clear adoration, breathing hard from his Supermarket Sweep. Then he makes the carrot-noise. Looks like Bugs, Helen thinks of the boy’s new adult front teeth, the beaverish jut of them exacerbated by his missing canines on either side. Then she feels abruptly un-neighbourlike for being jealous of a child for his father’s attention, good grief.

Dr Tozier regards his son for a long moment. Then says, “What’s up, doc?” in a spot-on Mel Blanc whine. Richard giggles so hard his too-big glasses start slipping. “How many apples is that?”

“Gotta apples and I was gonna put ‘em in a bag but I forgot and Dad, Daddy look, s’a dinosaur on the box for my dinner when Mommy’s at Grandma’s—”

Dr Tozier sighs, putting one hand on his hip and dragging the other over his clean-shaven mouth, watching Richard drop his armfuls everywhere, scattering the linoleum. He has two apples, four boxes of brightly colored cereal, a handful of pencils topped with cartoon-character erasers, and a kiwi fruit. For a moment, Helen sees the shining enamel of Dr Tozier’s everything-will-work-out-with-another-cup-of-coffee amusement slip, wear away to worry underneath.

“Rich,” he says, interrupting Richard’s blabbermouth, firm and patient. Helen’s thighs burn suddenly under her skirts at the tone of his voice, and she looks down, rearranging her own groceries. She should leave them to get on. She could offer to help. Margaret’s out of town, poor things, they probably haven’t eaten a cooked meal all week!

“Richie,” Dr Tozier says again. “Listen and pay attention when Mom or me ask you to do something, remember? How many apples did I ask you to get?”

Richard has to crane his neck to meet his father’s eyes. Dr Tozier is one of the tallest fathers in the Derry Elementary catchment zone, Helen has checked. “Six!”

“And how many’ve you got, Elmer Fudd?”

“Um.” Richard’s pale little face creases in thought, then brightens. When he speaks again his voice is strange, accented. “Twooo.”

“Some apple hunter you are, huh.”

“Sorry, Daddy.”

“That’s fine.” Dr Tozier stoops to gather Richard’s detritus, and Helen knows she has something to contribute, watching the boy stick one of the pencils up his nose.

“You know, apples are very good for you,” she says. Richard turns to her, slack-jawed, as if seeing her for the first time. “You should listen to your Daddy, Richard, an apple a day keeps the doctor away.”

Richard stares for another few seconds. Then he bites down on his boogery pencil so that it threads through the gaps in his teeth, and hollers, “MY FRIEND BILL SAID THAT’S A PILE OF BULLSHIT.”

“No shouting indoors, Rich,” says Dr Tozier, still gathering. Helen rocks a step backwards, clinging to her cart like a life-preserver.

“Bill and my’s friend Eddie eats a thousand apples and sees the doctor all the time though Dad, and Miss Spiegel said if we eat apples we don’t have to see the doctors but Eddie eats them and—Bill said—”

“Pile of bullshit, yeah, I liked it. Bill’s an eloquent guy,” says Dr Tozier. This is the second time Helen has ever heard him curse in as many minutes. It comes out easy and amused as everything else does in his pleasant tenor. His legs and his jaw are so lean and angular that Helen can see the suggestion, the shadow of the shape of his perfect, swearing teeth through his cheek as he grins helplessly at his son, the fruit of his loins and someone else’s loins who isn’t Helen, and all of a sudden she feels a slick pulse of wet heat, up between her thighs.

She squeaks. Flutters her hand to her face without knowing why, perhaps to catch the noise before Dr Tozier notices, just another quivering Derry leaf tossed along by his breezy manner. He looks up anyway, with a frown.

“Everything alright, Helen?”

“Just—fine, yes,” she manages. Dr Tozier is still down on one knee, kindly face level with her skirts. She can see right down under his starched collar from this angle, a slivering glimpse of smooth, dark hair. No undershirt. Helen has lain naked against Rory’s nakedness before without feeling this alive, in every part of her body. She feels like a heart, beating.

“Oh, hang on.” Dr Tozier says, eyes widening, and turns Richard by the shoulders to face her. One pencil for each nostril, now. “Apologize to Mrs Nash for cussing, Richie.”

“Sorry!” Richard shouts, sounding less like he’s apologizing and more like he’s just deemed Helen it during a game of tag.

Helen is still floating in a dazed state of mild panic. Like a prey-mouse, bewitched into slack compliance by her own body’s snaking desires. “That’s alright, dear.”

F-word, Dr Tozier had said. Maybe cussing could be quite neighbourly when applied in the right context, thinks Helen.

“You mentioned my hair, earlier,” says Dr Tozier, straightening back up with a knowing sort of arch to his eyebrow as he smiles genially at Helen. He tilts his head down at Richard. “There’s the reason. Every last one, sprinkled onto my head at the tender age of thirty-two by the great salt-and-pepper shaker of fatherhood. Especially this week, with Maggie on sabbatical. Had to bring you to work with me, didn’t I, buckaroo?”

Richard bites and swings and tugs on his father’s long arm, a tearaway kitten with a much obliging scratching post. Dr Tozier hardly seems to notice. “Yeah! Daddy’s got fishes at work!”

Dr Tozier grimaces slightly at Helen, but also as if he’s seeing right through her to some past unnamable horror. “I liked those fish. Calmed down the nervy patients.” He sighs again.

Helen wonders briefly whether or not the residents of Dr Tozier’s waiting-room fish tank suffered the same fate as that worm in the park, and decides she’d rather not know.

“Well, you needn’t worry about it,” she says, gamely. She watches her hand reach towards Dr Tozier’s silver-black brindle, then snatches it back from his bland expression to brush the tips of her own feathered-out hair. “The gray, I mean.”

Dr Tozier blinks.

“It’s very—that is to say, you look, it makes you look, I mean, I think it’s—”

Dr Tozier’s left eyebrow joins his right, raised up high.

A tidy little jet of hysteria shoots up from Helen’s knotting stomach to spin like a top in her chest. She hears herself stutter out the word, “Dashing,” and immediately wishes to flee the store, leaving her cart abandoned like so much collateral damage.

But Dr Tozier only barks a laugh, a short, smooth hah like everything else he says. Entirely unperturbed. “Well, thank you.”

Too unperturbed. Helen is struck by a sudden bolt of terror, at the thought of the things Dr Tozier must surely hear every day, when people are lulled by the hypnotically intimate environment of a dentist’s chair and a touch of the laughing gas. Oh, this is terrible. Her face is on fire.

“But they—they make products for men now,” she says, and why, oh why can’t she stop talking? “Hair dyes, I mean, if it really does bother you? I’ve seen them in Keene’s.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” says Dr Tozier, looking down at Richard then with a soft edge, at his bouncing noise and scabbed knees and gently curling hair like a black spaniel’s. Like his father’s. “I find I’m rather grateful for it, truth be told.”

“Plus,” he continues, as if Helen wasn’t already melting harder than the Tozier’s ice-cream, as if Johnny Kitchener the shop-boy isn’t going to have to come along with a mop and bucket to clean up on aisle seven, “Maggie’d kill me if I got rid of it.”

Then Dr Tozier winks.

Oh Lord, oh Lord, Helen’s whole ribcage is so tight she can’t squeeze out a reply, because who could blame dear, pretty, annoyingly friendly, lucky, lucky, lucky Margaret for that when Dr Wentworth Tozier DMD is so—

So f—

So fffffff—

So fiddlesticksing handsome!

“Well, we’d best not keep you, Helen. This one is in dire need of a bath before his mother sees him, and hands me a divorce on the spot,” Dr Tozier says, when another few moments have passed and all Helen can do is try to desperately smooth the creases from her breathing. He’s humming mild interest at something Richard is saying, knelt back down to the linoleum to tie the boy’s loose-worm laces presumably before he gives himself any more skinned knees, and they’re leaving. Dr Tozier is leaving, and Helen hasn’t done anything but act like a ninny this entire time. She doesn’t want him to think her a ninny, a simpleton. She wants him to leave this bright, liminal church of bold colors and jazzy waiting-room music and return to his lemon-yellow two-storey house thinking my, what a lovely chat I had with Helen Nash.

She wants to linger, as he lingers. Like an amiable spirit hanging over the women’s group at church, waiting to be summoned at a moment’s eager notice. I bumped into Dr Tozier at Palmer’s on Saturday, she’ll say to the other jealous ladies, with triumph, and we had such a nice talk. He called me Helen.

“And when—when does Margaret get home?” she blurts. A very secret part of Helen wants Dr Tozier to leave this conversation with Helen and his wife both, entwined by association in his mind. She tries very hard not to think about the Toziers divorcing, because that is un-neighbourly, and feels least neighbourly of all when a dopey, dreamy look crosses Dr Tozier’s face like a brief sunbeam at her question.

“Ah. Tonight. Not too late, hopefully.” He jerks one of his knuckley thumbs at his shopping cart, licking the other to wipe something unidentifiable from Richard’s grubby face. “That’s why we’re here, stocking up for her miraculous return. Like a couple of noble emperor penguins in Antarctica, eh Rich?”

“Penguins like from Batman! Ka-pow.”

Helen takes a peek into their cart, curiosity getting the better of her now that permission is granted. Dr Tozier might not know it, but looking into another person’s cart is bad grocery etiquette, especially in a town like Derry, where gossip grows like a fungus in every sweaty and close little huddle of people. Not that Helen would know about that. Anyway, there isn’t much to gossip about besides the unfortunately liquefied ice-cream, the severe lack of crunchy vegetables characteristic of a young man in 1981 trying to provide for a tooth-shedding son, and—

A little cardboard box. Tossed unashamedly between the Wonderbread and a magazine about sports. Prophylactics. Rubbers.

36-pack. XL

Helen knows her jaw is hanging open and strains to close it, the back of her neck and her shoulders feeling hot and tight and shuddery. She kneads a fist into her skirts. Crosses her legs at the ankles as demurely as she knows how, because the very last thing she needs is for frank, sensible Dr Tozier to see right through her with that easy doctor-patient-confidentiality smile, and know she’s soaking through her underwear at the sight of his Saturday grocery run, and all it implies.

Dr Tozier is laughing, nudging Richard in the direction of the register, or perhaps the apples. “Ka-pow is right. I’ll make sure to use that on Mom, thanks. Say hello to Rory for us, Helen. Have a nice day,” he says from over his shoulder, startling her. Holds up one long hand in a wave with a grin, and is gone, shadowing the boy’s haphazard attempts to push the cart despite not being able to see where he’s going.

Helen stands amongst the humming freezers, trembling. “You too,” she rasps, but Dr Tozier has rounded the corner, and is evidently going to have a nice day and a much nicer night, regardless of whether Helen wishes it for him or not.

All the bright little branded characters are watching her from their shelves, a silent jury. Helen Nash opens a freezer cabinet with a weak arm, and stands there for a while, staring at a leg of ham and thinking cooling, neighbourly thoughts.

[mst3kproject]

The River of the Giant Alligator

A bunch of Italians pretending they’re not Italian in a movie about a guy who chose the wrong place to build a hotel… it’s like Avalanche by way of Devil Fish, with an alligator.  And racism.  You can’t have a 70’s Italian jungle movie without the racism, and this one layers it on real thick.  I think The River of the Giant Alligator has its MST3K bases covered.

Rich Asshole Joshua has opened Paradise House, a resort in the middle of the ‘virgin jungle’.  He proudly tells visitors that not only has he left the surrounding ecosystem undamaged, but he’s helping the local people by giving them jobs and improving their standard of living.  Naturally it’s not as simple as that.  Trouble begins when Sheena, the model they brought for their advertising photographs (just for a dash of Killer Fish), vanishes overnight.  Photographer Daniel and hotel manager Ally go to the locals looking for her, and are told that the River God has awakened and intends to drive the white people away by assuming the form of a giant crocodile and eating them all.  Considering how mind-bogglingly stupid the tourists in this movie are, that should take all of twenty minutes.

The locals, who call themselves the Kuma, have a name for their River God but it’s pronounced five different ways and I won’t guess how to spell it.  Because of the deep breathing sounds that presage its first appearance, I shall call the creature Darth Gator.

Let’s get the basics out of the way first.  The whole movie is dubbed and the voice actors are bad. The Darth Gator prop is completely immobile but they mostly keep it in the dark or in really tight shots so we don’t notice… it’s only the occasional ill-advised wide shot where it’s obviously fake enough to be funny.  There’s a spiky fence that exists mostly so that people can get impaled on it and a cloying little kid for no reason whatsoever.  The ‘wildlife’ is a stock footage smorgasbord that includes orangutans and hippos on the same river.  The worst effect in the film is a terrible miniature shot of the hotel on fire, which would have looked just fine if the people involved hadn’t forgotten that flames don’t scale.

So all that sucks, but is fairly harmless.  Now let’s talk about the racism.

We’ll start with the movie’s treatment of its two ‘love stories’, and I use the floating commas because neither of them quite qualifies. Daniel and Ally are the main ‘couple’ of the movie.  The camera lingers on each of them to show that he thinks she’s beautiful and she thinks he’s rugged, and they spend the whole movie hanging out on balconies and boats together and discussing whether the resort is good or bad for the local people… but they never get so much as a kiss.  This is kind of nice, actually, because there’s very little time to stop and make out when you’re being chased by a large carnivorous reptile.  It does, however, make for a hell of a contrast between them and the other ‘couple’ we see.

This is the model, Sheena, and her Kuma boyfriend. I am unclear on where this movie is set (the closest we get to a clue is Ally referring to the area as ‘the Orient’, which could honestly mean anything) but it’s perfectly clear that the reason they hired a black woman for their publicity photos is to make the place look ‘exotic’.  There’s a weird moment when Joshua attempts to flirt with Sheena by telling her, “it occurs to me that Eve herself may have been black”, which… yes, that is how human evolution worked, what about it?  All that aside, at the end of the day, Sheena runs off for a romantic evening with one of the tribesmen.  We never see her talk to this guy or have any clue what made her pick him over any of the others.  They just go fuck on a beach and then get eaten by an alligator.

So… we have blonde, blue-eyed white people having a perfectly chaste, wait-for-marriage love affair in which they actually get to know each other… and black people who run off with a stranger and screw out in the open like animals.  Holy shit.  I want to say I hope this wasn’t something the film-makers actively thought about, but it might be worse if they didn’t.  Naturally, this is also a version of the ‘people who have premarital sex must die’ trope from slasher movies, and the movie makes doubly sure we know this is Bad Behaviour by having Ally remark that the Kuma are forbidden from visiting��‘the Island of Love’ on the full moon.

The deaths of Sheena and Nameless Kuma Guy also begin a pattern that lasts almost the entire movie.  Even though we’re told, repeatedly, that Darth Gator wants to drive the white people out of his jungle, for the vast majority of the running time it’s the brown people who are getting chomped.  We’re told that twelve white missionaries came here years ago and Darth Gator ate all but one of them, who then became a crazy jungle man (not gonna lie, Father Jonathan was my favourite character and I wish we’d seen more of him).  We see Sheena, her boyfriend, and the boyfriend’s brother get eaten alive.  Furthermore, most of the white deaths in the movie are at the hands of the Kuma, who run in and kill the tourists with spears and fire arrows in the belief that they’re doing their god’s bidding, and much of this happens offscreen. Those hit by the arrows quickly fall into the water and vanish from sight.  The only time the camera lingers on a white person dying is Joshua, who I guess they think deserved it.  The impression one gets is that white death is a horror better implied than shown, while brown death is a spectacle.  Again… holy shit.

The River of the Giant Alligator can’t seem to decide what we’re supposed to think about the Kuma people.  Early in the film they’re portrayed as victims.  These foreigners have invaded their land and built this giant hotel, and claimed to be helping them by giving them ‘work’. Ally notes that they’ll be able to live longer, healthier lives, but Daniel wonders if it’s worth it when they’ve basically become Joshua’s slaves.  The movie leaves this question hanging there without exploring it any further. When Daniel and Ally come looking for information about the alligator attacks, the Kuma direct them to Father Jonathan, knowing they’re more likely to believe a white man, even one who’s obviously not quite all there.  The movie really wants to be about the exploitation of indigenous peoples, treated as decorations and curiosities by white tourists.

The problem is, it wants to eat that cake, too.  By the end of the story, the Kuma have devolved into stock savages.  They attack the hotel and kill everybody, and kidnap Ally so they can tie her to a horizontal King Kong contraption as a sacrifice. The ending just makes it all the more confusing, as they turn up to discover that their god has been blown to bloody chunks after biting into a van full of explosives, and they cheer and they just leave.  Is it really that easy to kill a god?  Won’t a dead god demand vengeance anyway?  Does this mean they actually like the white people after all, and were only angry because Darth Gator was eating them?

The ending also muddles the movie’s other point, about the nature of eco-tourism.  One of the selling points of Paradise House is that it’s in the middle of virgin jungle.  Joshua brags about how he’s left the surrounding ecosystem untouched – but then we cut straight to trees being cleared using dynamite, and later we see live piglets being thrown into the river to keep the crocodiles hanging around so people can gawk at them.  You can’t build a hotel in the middle of a place and then call it ‘virgin jungle’.  You’re the one who violated it!

The script is a little unclear on whether Darth Gator is a natural or supernatural threat.  Ally and Daniel insist that it’s no mere alligator (I don’t think this movie knows the difference between crocodiles and alligators any better than I do) and Father Jonathan seems to believe it’s the Devil Himself, but it certainly dies like a flesh-and-blood creature.  Whatever its nature, it’s clear enough that Darth Gator represents the jungle striking back at these intruders to drive them out.  The Kuma literally say as much.  So what are we to take from the fact that it dies at the end?  Have we won the right to destroy the forest by killing its guardian?  I don’t believe the people who make these movies think this stuff through.

I can tell that we’re supposed to hate the tourists, and we do, although not always for the reasons the movie wants us to. Minnow, the red-haired little girl who ‘only likes to play with boys’, tries so hard to be Adorable that you want to punt her across the room.  Her mother leaves her to wander around the hotel alone, because Mummy’s got a smarmy mustached boyfriend to bang (even this relationship gets more attention than Sheena and Unnamed Kuma Guy, by the way… we are told that Mummy and Mustache have met before, and are here mostly to see each other rather than the jungle).  Other notable annoyances include a lady who seems perfectly sane until she starts talking about the aliens, and a guy who loves to complain about Youth These Days and will seize any opportunity to do so.

I kinda wanna gripe about these obnoxious characters, but I don’t feel like I can.  You may recall that I spent a month stuck on a cruise ship earlier this year.  I can tell you definitively that these people do exist, and I hate them even more in real life.

Man, this could have been a fun monster movie.  I’ve seen movies about man-eating crocodiles (or alligators… does it honestly matter that much?) that I really enjoyed.  Primeval wasn’t even that bad – it was about how humans are more monstrous than anything nature can produce.  Lake Placid had that immortal bit where Betty White says if I had a dick, this is where I’d tell you to suck it.  The River of the Great Alligator is just boring bullshit and things that seem kinda racist on the surface but then you think about them a little longer and realize they’re incredibly racist.  I went into this one hoping to like it, but it absolutely pissed on the last shreds of my optimism... like a lot of other things in 2020.

[nyctolovian]

Summary: What if Jon was a Witch and Martin was a Runaway Royalty? Funnily enough, it doesn't make their first meeting any less unfortunate and terrible.

Warning: Since this might be something people are sensitive about, Martin is described as "fat" and "plump" in this fic. But not in a derogatory way? (Please tell me if it comes off as such oh dear.)

"Who the hell gave you the right to eat all my cookies?" Jon hissed, brandishing his broom at the intruder. 

The man gulped visibly as his round chocolate eyes wobbled. The crumbs still dusted between the freckles of his pale cheeks irked Jon to no end.

He had been saving those butter cookies, savoring only a couple every few days. So you can imagine the shock and fury that coursed through Jon's veins when he returned to his cottage after a frankly needless travel, and found a large man sitting in his living room with an empty tin on his lap. Before the man could even react, Jon had shoved him to the floor and whipped his broom forward threateningly, demanding an explanation for the cookie thievery. If Jon had given the situation more thought, he might have realised his priorities were slightly out of order, but it was the only tin he had procured from when he last set foot amongst human civilization. And he abhorred the thought of going into a town after just three months for a mere tin of cookies.

"I-I-I'm really sorry… I…" the intruder stammered out. "I, um, stumbled upon this cottage… and no one came back for the past two days so… I thought it was abandoned and, well, stayed…" 

"Abandoned?!" Jon shouted. "What part of this–" he gestured towards his numerous possessions with his broom "–looks abandoned to you?"

Sure, the cottage didn't have much furniture, but there was plenty of belongings that served to prove its occupancy. Most obvious was how it was filled wall-to-wall with towering mahogany shelves of well-kept books. No one in their right mind would simply desert such an extensive collection of ancient knowledge. This house was admittedly more library than home, but Jon's point still stood. 

"Well," muttered the man, "it is quite messy and dirty to be honest."

Jon narrowed his eyes at the intruder, who hastily  muttered an apology. It wasn't as though he was wrong though. If one were to believe Sasha James (whom, in Jon's experience, had never been categorically wrong), his living conditions were dreadful. It was as though a hurricane had swept through the house, throwing his belongings about, but deliberately left the dust and dirt alone. Books were scattered across all surfaces, couch and floor included, as several layers of dirt settled on the floor, shelves and table. Even some articles of clothing strewn on the floor and chairs have gotten jealous, and begun their own collection of dust as well. And maybe the air in this house was… a fair bit mustier than it should be.

Jon had never been much of a cleaner.

"I'm sorry. I really am," the man began again. "You're… not going to kill me, are you?"

"What? No!" Jon scrunched his nose in horror. "Of course not."

"Oh, uh, good." He let out a nervous chuckle. "To be honest, when I first came in and saw all the books and crockery, I thought the owner of the house might be some kind of witch. I'm glad you aren't one. They can be quite creepy, and I frankly don't like the idea of being cursed by one."

Thunk! Jon hit the butt of his broom against the wooden floor, eyes narrowed. Drily, he corrected, "I am a witch."

"Oh." The fat man pursed his lips as he shrunk into himself. "That would explain some stuff."

With a huff, Jon rolled his eyes. It was tiring to constantly have people doubt or assume he wasn't a witch just because of the way he looked. Admittedly, most people in the witchery profession were women. He had only known three men who were witches, only one of whom he had actually met, and maybe one other non-binary witch. At least this time he hadn't been accused of lying. "Don't worry. I won't put a curse on you or anything absurd," he told the now deathly pale intruder.

The man let out a sigh. "Right. Thank you. Sorry," he said nervously as he stood up, hunching into himself apologetically. “ I'll… let myself out now.”

Jon wielded his broom once more and the man yelped pathetically. "Now, hold on. I'm not letting you go after you've treated my house like a hostel for two days and eaten all my cookies."

"I'm really sorry," he muttered. "I don't have a single coin on me…" He pointed at an unfamiliar bag beside the table. "I… I do have some parchment and quill though."

"Parchment and quill?"

"It… has a certain vintage feel to it."

"No need. I can subsist on pen and paper just fine." He jerked his head towards the overflowing mess of a study table.

The man winced. "I'm sorry… I really don't have much else with me."

"Right," Jon said, narrowing his eyes. He couldn't help but doubt those words. The fabric of the man's clothes looked rather expensive, and the garment was skilfully crafted to fit his stocky build. It was unusual to see a man this well-dressed without a single coin in his possession. But an actually well-to-do man wouldn't be stumbling into cottages in a forest and polishing opened cookie tins off, Jon would presume. "What's your name?" he asked.

The man's already big eyes widened further. "Uh, what?"

Impatiently, Jon groaned. "Your name. Do you have one?" he asked, acid practically dripping from his voice.

"Ah, um, yes," the man stammered out. "I'm Martin K- Blackwood."

"Martin K. Blackwood?"

"Uh, yeah?" 

"Are you answering or asking a question?" Jon snapped.

"Answering! Answering."

He huffed in annoyance, his eyes sliding across his kitchen. When he had left, unwashed crockery and cutlery were piled up into haphazard towers in the sink and on his tables. However, they were now properly washed, dried, and placed into his cabinets. So this home intrusion hadn't been an entirely unprofitable one.

With a glint in his eyes, Jon said, "I have a proposition." 

***

Stupid Martin, he cursed himself. Why are you constantly making things worse for yourself?

First, it was the whole running away from home thing. He didn't regret that in particular, but he probably should have brought along more than 10 silver pieces. It was no wonder how after a mere week, all his money was spent or given to a group of famished scrawny children. Then, he had decided to cut through the woods in hopes that he could sustain himself on wild berries, none of which, he later found, looked convincingly edible. Then, he had stumbled upon a curious cottage in the middle of a dense forest and, upon finding it abandoned, let himself settle in. As was typical of his luck, it wasn't actually abandoned, and its owner was none other than a witch. Thinking back, he should have taken note of the tinge of change in the air when he first stepped foot, evidence of its steady pool of magic, and its otherworldly still-resident.

Most mortifyingly, however, Martin had flushed to a ridiculous shade of pink when the witch smirked and said he had a "proposition" because, holy crap, did Martin have an imagination. The puzzlement on the witch's face at his reaction before clarifying what aforementioned proposition actually was might have been the finishing blow to his dignity. 

"You're not in some romantic comedy," he muttered angrily to himself as he scrubbed the study table with all his might.

"Did you say something?"

Martin looked up at the witch, who had retreated to the floor while Martin cleaned his study table. He had built a fortress of books around himself and had to straighten himself to look over its walls. There was genuine confusion on his features as he asked the question. 

"Uh, no," Martin said, shooting him a smile and adjusting his spectacles nervously. "Just a rather nasty stain here."

The witch–"Jon, Jonathan Sims," he had been told–shrugged and returned to burying his nose in some spell book, his tousled hair cascading gently with the movement to frame his handsome face with a wavy shoulder-length curtain. His slender fingers flipped the page gently before curling thoughtfully over his stubbly chin.

With a sigh of resignation, Martin got back to removing the stubborn stain on the dining table.

It always were the prickly men that had the prettiest faces, weren't they? So Martin really couldn't be faulted for consistently developing unwise infatuations for them. 

The image was still imprinted in his mind's eye, like an afterimage of too-bright light. Falling to the floor had kicked up a cloud of dust and the poet in Martin felt the air tremble with ethereality. And the sight before him was nothing short of divine.

Jon's lustrous greying locks tangled gently with the sunset glow from the ajar front door, and his silhouette was outlined with light. It highlighted how well the black pinstripe suit fit his slender figure and gave him a sort of cool sharpness. His thick eyebrows were tightly knitted in a rather adorable frown on confusion. His eyes were beautiful obsidian that reflected every shimmer of emotions upon its surface. Martin found his gaze slowly trickle down from those eyes to his thin parted lips as though guided by the sureness of gravity. Then, Jon brandished his broomstick and–bloody hell–Martin would be lying if he said that didn't spark an embarrassing warmth in his gut.

Being in close proximity with someone this hot was going to be detrimental to his health. Martin was pretty sure if he spent a second longer around this man, he would have fainted like an anaemic lady in a poorly fitted corset. That or lock himself in the washroom, preferably with the shower on, for a suspiciously long period of time.

Thank god, however, Jon had the fashion sense of a grandmother. When he emerged from his bedroom, he had changed out of his suit, into a dark green cardigan, overstretched beige shirt, and grey tartan trousers. (Tartan? Really?) Every single article of clothing was baggy and oversized beyond what was sensible for someone as small and angular as Jon. Martin had never seen anyone more swallowed up by clothing than Jon was. That was saying a lot since Martin had seen more jesters than the average person in their entire lifetime. 

At least, he supposed, the colours of his apparel complemented his dark earthy skin, bringing out the richness in its tone. Martin might go as far as to say that what Jon was wearing now made sense. When Jon first appeared, he was posh and brooding dark colours, oozing with cruelty–a foreboding shadow that obtruded the autumn palette of forest and cottage. However, in his indoor clothes, he was an easy fit in the puzzle that was this house, with its quaint exterior and cosy interior.

There might also be something endearing about seeing such a slight person swaddled in soft fabric. And the smallness of the man as he sat criss-crossed on the floor did no favours for Martin’s sensibilities either.

Martin shook his head, physically objecting to his own train of thought. He couldn't afford to let his imagination run wild like letting loose a golden retriever with cabin fever. After all, if he actually had to clean up the house to compensate for his intrusion, he was going to be staying in this cottage for a long while. Because, despite his unquestionable familiarity with his broom, Jon had clearly not used it (or any cleaning tool for that matter) in the house for at least 4 months, and Martin was now left to deal with the aftermath of such a decision.

With a soft sigh, he went to change the water in the pail before moving on to cleaning the kitchen table, which was honestly worse off than the study table. That was a major understatement given the amounts of stains and bits left on the kitchen table. Martin rolled up his sleeves and began to scrub the stubborn stains.

As he got rid of the last grime on the table, he stood upright and stretched his back, hearing it crack softly. His eyes settled upon the clock above the bookshelves. It was 8.45pm already. Concernedly, he asked Jon, "What time do you usually have dinner?"

The witch looked up from his volume, his dark hooded eyes blinking owlishly. As though just realising what Martin had said, he let out a quiet noise and glanced towards the clock. "Oh," he muttered. "I forgot."

Like a disappointed parent, Martin pursed his lips.

"Now." Jon nodded to himself as he rose from the floor. "Now would be good."

"I could cook."

Jon jerked to a halt, midway to standing upright. "Ah, yes." He plopped to the wooden floor like a stuffed doll before crossing his legs once more. "I should have some potatoes…"

Sheepishly, Martin said, "Actually, um, I ate them. But, uh, I can cook rice."

Jon jutted his chin out. Exasperatedly, he waved his hand and grumbled, "Fine. Do whatever." Grumpily, he returned to reading again. 

After clearing the dining table as best as he could, Martin went to work with cooking. After examining the contents of the fridge, he decided on a simple meal with baked beans and some veggies and sausages since there wasn't enough time to defrost any meat.

While Martin was scooping out the uncooked rice, Jon suddenly spoke, "Do you really know how to cook rice? None of that white-people rice-boiling nonsense. I have a rice cooker." Then, in the most condescending voice, he asked, "You do know how to use a rice cooker, right?"

"If it assures you, I've worked in the kitchen of a Mexican restaurant before."

 Jon, whom Martin was fairly certain by now had quite the dramatic streak, visibly relaxed with a loud sigh of relief. "That's good." Then, he burrowed into his books again.

Turning around, Martin rolled his eyes and flipped on the tap to wash the rice. After filling the rice cooker with rice and water, he plugged the cooker to a socket and hummed with curiosity. "I wonder where the electricity comes from?"

"Magic."

Martin startled.

Jon's head was peeking out from behind his ever-growing book fort, which now reached just below his chin. There was a proud quirk in his eyebrow as he continued, "I decided living this deep in the forest doesn't mean I have to give up the conveniences of technology. So I've imbued this cottage with magic to keep the electricity running."

"Well, that would explain the lone WiFi network my phone detected."

"It's password protected," Jon said, as he wriggled a smartphone out of his pocket. "Do you need it?"

"No thanks," Martin responded immediately. Then, realising how strange he must sound, he added, "Uh. I have unlimited data."

Despite how ridiculous this must have sounded, Jon didn't seem to pay the blatant lie much attention. Instead, his attention had shifted to his own mobile phone. He typed furiously into the device for a few minutes before his phone began to ring. His expression soured and he muttered under his breath, "God damn it, Tim."

"What?" Martin blurted even though he had heard Jon loud and clear. 

"Just a… troublesome friend. It's none of your business." Jon picked up the phone and began the call with the most peeved "Yes, Tim?"

"Right. Yes… Of course." Still, Martin couldn't help but perk his ears.

"Before you begin, the answer is a resounding no," Jon said. "No, I don't. ... It doesn't matter to me what the rewards are. … You can't– Ugh…" He squeezed his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "I really couldn't care less. … I'm not your personal sniffer dog. Or the state's for that matter.” The perpetual small frown on his face deepened with bewilderment. “What do you mean you’re not…?” Then, with a huff, he muttered, “Shocking.” His lips however quirked up by an almost indiscernible centimetre.

Martin felt a pang of curiosity. This might have been the first trace of a smile that he had seen on the crotchety man. Noticing that he was staring, Martin ducked his head and busied himself with cooking the sausages.

Suddenly, Jon shot to his feet. "Don't you dare!" he hissed. "Tim, I'm warning you. … Fine." His tense shoulders relaxed as he folded his arms in front of his chest. "I'll… I'll see what I can do." To Martin's disappointment, Jon stepped over his fort of books and headed into his bedroom, where the conversation continued without eavesdropping ears. Pursing his lips, 

Worry was a hungry hound nestled under Martin’s sternum. Perhaps his ribs were particularly sweet in its canine teeth because it frequently gnawed and chewed at his chest. But this might be the biggest and hungriest hound yet, though this time it spared him and merely nibbled. 

Stop overthinking things, he told himself. Not every Tim in the world is going to be Tim Stoker.

***

Tim Stoker was unrelenting when he wanted something.

Jon had realised this long before when he had helped search for his brother but this was ridiculous. Threatening to reveal a hermit’s address, much more one that practiced the occult, was to strip a hermit crab of its shell. And revealing it to the Royal Guards of all people was to smash the shell with a massive hammer while the crab was still in it—needlessly cruel and most probably going to get him killed.

But Jon supposed simply helping Tim out would be much less inconvenient than moving house and cutting ties with the man. Besides, he wasn’t entirely a nuisance.

With a grunt, he knelt beside his bag, still unpacked from his previous trip, and grabbed his journal and a pen. "Alright," he said, setting the book on his lap and pinning his phone between his head and shoulder. "Tell me about this prince. Age? Birthday? Height? Weight? Something?"

"Um… 28, I believe? Not sure about his birthday… Height is between 180 and 190, I think? Uh… He's on the fat side… He's got curly brown hair, brown eyes, pale skin, wears glasses, dimples handsomely when he smiles…"

A long-suppressed groan finally escaped Jon. After his draining trip to the Witch's Conference, he really didn't have the energy to listen to Tim describe what was clearly a small crush of sorts. "This is going nowhere. Just send me a photo."

There was a brief sheepish silence. "Haven't got one, actually."

"Alright, hold up," Jon cut him off. "How on earth do you have nothing on this man? He's a prince for god's sake. In fact, I've only been hearing about this whole missing prince debacle from you. How is this not on the news yet? It's as if you people don't even want him back."

"Well," Tim mumbled over the phone, "it's… a tad bit complicated. You know, how I said I'm not doing this for the state?"

"Mm." 

"It's 'cause he ran away to avoid getting married off to another kingdom," Tim said. "Specifically the Nebula Kingdom."

Jon raised an eyebrow. The political ties of the Nebula Kingdom and the Kinsley Royal Family would put even the most volatile stock markets to shame. That was to say, they were mercurial at best. Having a marriage between the two nations would likely stabilise their relations, but if the groom scampered off, it wouldn't just look bad. There would have to be either war (fortunately, a non-militaristic one since neither country was physically confrontational), or massive compensations of the monetary sort. And the Kinsley Royal Family was not quite as wealthy as Nebula, so their best bet at the moment would be keep this runaway business on the down-low for now.

From the other end of the phone, Tim sucked in a hiss of breath through his teeth. "Yeah… So, honestly, only the most high ranking officials are aware of his disappearance. To everyone else, he's just caught a bad case of flu."

Curious, Jon pressed, "And how is a mere royal alchemist such as yourself privy to such confidential information?"

"Actually, he's a friend of mine," Tim said. "So you can imagine how worried I am for him right now."

"I take it you're not carting him off to the palace the moment I find him?"

"Of course not," Tim said with an affronted tone. 

Jon let out a hum. "And why the lack of photographs?"

"Well," Tim said. "There's the fact that he's pretty camera-shy. But, also, he's sort of… an illegitimate child of the prince. So things were kept on the very down-low when it came to him."

"Good lord." Jon squeezed his nose bridge with a loud sigh. He could imagine it already: keeping the illegitimate child a secret, ensuring no one could recognise him, and then using him as a marriage pawn when the time was ripe. With how notoriously prolific the prince was, no one could ever tell the difference between an illegitimate child and a regular concubine's offspring. 

How a man could sustain such a virile lifestyle perplexed Jon, to be honest. But there were a great many things of the sexual nature that had that effect on the witch so he'd much rather think about actually decipherable things such as spells and potions. 

Mentally shoving his distaste aside, Jon continued, "So how do you suppose I find this man without any useful information?"

Jon could practically hear the sunshine in Tim's voice. "Not sure to be honest! I was kind of hoping you'd have an idea."

"I'm a witch. Not a… private detective or sniffer dog or whatever you're taking me to be!" Jon grumbled. "Tim, it's not that I don't want to help you, but you have to give me something better than just a general description of the man."

"Right…" Tim sounded genuinely disappointed. "What about his stuff? I'm not sure about witchcraft but you guys use possessions and stuff for curses and such, right? If I manage to find something he left behind… would that work?"

Jon hummed in thought. "Wait a moment."

He scavenged through the books in his bedroom and found a leather-bound journal that was practically falling apart. Gently, he flipped through the pages and finally came across the section he was looking for. 

"Well, if we are to use an object, I'd cast a searching spell on the seeker, which I suppose would likely be yourself," he explained, running his forefinger over the squiggles of the page. "There are then several criteria that the object has to fulfill. First, we need it to be of emotional importance. Then, it has to have a connection between the target and the seeker, meaning you should try to find a gift from this man. Not something you took without his permission or something that is borrowed. And even then, there is a chance of it being a dud."

"That's… not ideal," Tim winced out. "I'll see what I can find." His voice was warm and sincere. "Hey, thanks a bunch, dude. You helped me find Danny, and now Martin as well… I was lying about exposing your house address by the way. I'd never do that. "

"Yes, Tim, I know."

Tim bounced back into his cheeky disposition. "Love you too, Jon! Bye!" 

Jon rolled his eyes and ended the call. 

Martin… The prince had the same name as his unexpected intruder… 

A frown settled upon his brow. What if…

There was a quick rap against his bedroom door. Jon got to his feet and opened it.

"Oh!" Martin–the intruder–gasped. "I thought you were… still on your phone… or something. Um, I was just… Dinner's ready?"

"Ah," Jon said with a nod. The two of them sat at the dining table. The food looked good actually, much to Jon's relief. Still, with some frankly warranted skepticism, he fluffed the rice with a scoop, and when he saw that it was nice and soft. He placed it in his bowl and began to eat. 

Sitting opposite, the cook took a sigh of relief at the silent approval and dug in as well. Then, his phone began to ring and he swiped the screen absently. "I saw some tea in the cabinets so…" he muttered as he got up and carried two mugs from the kitchen counter to the table. 

Jon took a sniff from the cup. Chamomile. Carefully, he took a sip, and his eyebrows yanked upwards with delight. 

Martin's plump cheeks dimpled deeply with pride as he hummed and drank from his own mug as well.

Jon supposed he earned that. When he brought the rim of the mug to his lips again, his eyes fluttered half-closed as the fragrance of the tea surrounded his senses like an old but well-kept blanket, warm and soothing. 

Wouldn't it be great to keep him around? His mind sponsored. Jon had to beat the thought down with a stick. He was a hermit and he planned to stay as such. Besides, Jon had a niggling feeling about this man's identity... 

But this Martin couldn't possibly be a Prince Martin, Jon convinced himself Imagine such excellent tea-brewing skills squandered on royalty.

[all-things-skam]

Jens’ Season: Chapter seven

Saturday, February 15th

Freshly woken up, Jens stared at his ceiling, deep in his thoughts. He had slept for over twelve hours, but somehow still felt exhausted.

Now that the Xanax had worn off, he was left to face his thoughts, the same ones he tried to escape last night - with the addition of guilt.

The bag of pills sat louder than usual in his drawer, a reminder of yesterday’s moment of weakness. Jens wasn’t proud of himself for having taken a Xanax. But, sometimes, when your brain gets too loud and all you want is for it to stop, you make impulsive choices, bad choices. The severity of your choice only hits you the following morning, when you come back to your senses.

It’s not like he could go back in time though. What was done was done. But, he still felt remorse.

Even though it felt good.

Jens closed his eyes, turning over, about to fall back asleep when he saw that Lucas was trying to FaceTime.

He smiled, seeing his boyfriend's pouty face on his phone screen and answered. ‘’Hey, beautiful.’’

Lucas reciprocated the smile, but not fully. ‘’Hey… You never returned my messages last night. Everything okay?’’ he asked, pushing his fringe away from his face, voice a little worried.

Shit.

‘’Erm, yeah...sorry. I fell asleep super early.’’

Although it wasn’t a lie, Jens felt bad for omitting the truth to Lucas about his evening. But he couldn’t tell him about the Xanax, not after he promised he wasn’t taking any, not over Facetime. If the cat were to be out of the bag, it would be in person. It’s too easy to hang up on someone instead of listening to them.

‘’Oh. It’s okay,’’ Lucas said. The screen joistled, becoming a little blurry from the movements as Lucas adjusted his position on the couch, the bright yellow wall of his living room peeking in the background. ‘’I spent all night binge watching your Broerrrs vlogs.’’

Jens raised an eyebrow. ‘’All of them?’’

He had never counted how many vlogs they’ve posted on YouTube, but there was at least a dozen - if not more. They weren’t very long vlogs, but it was a commitment to binge them all. Jens found it cute that Lucas had spent his evening watching the vlogs - regardless how cringe-y some were.

Lucas hummed proudly. ‘’I missed your pretty face. And, you weren’t responding to my messages.’’

Jens scoffed. ‘’My face, uh?’’

‘’Yeah…’’ A light blush spread on Lucas’ cheeks and ears, biting back a grin. ‘’I’ll admit, you looked mighty fine in that wetsuit. Zero points for the wakeboarding skills, though...but it's not really what I was interested in.'' The brunet smirked, holding the camera closer. ''I was in the mood for something else. Too bad you were sleeping, I had to take matters into my own hands - literally. Wasn’t as good as the real thing though.’’

‘’No?’’ Jens said, faking innocence. ‘’You like my hand better?’’

‘’Your mouth, actually,’’ Lucas corrected, blunt. ‘’Those full lips aren’t just good for talking,’’ he added, capturing his bottom lip between his teeth.

Heat rushed to Jens’ cheeks, but he wasn't embarrassed. He was pretty smug about it. Judging by the appreciative noises Lucas made whenever he went down on him, Jens had nothing to be embarrassed about.

Someone called Lucas’ name and he looked behind him, the screen going black as the phone fell on his chest. Jens could hear some voices, but it was hushed by Lucas’ hoodie material.

‘’Gotta go,’’ Lucas announced, returning to Jens.

‘’You’re kidding me?!’’

‘’My mom needs me to go grocery shopping. And then, I’m meeting up with Kes and Jayden.’’

The fucking tease.

Blood had started rushing down, feeling himself growing hard under his boxers. ‘’You can’t say shit like that and then...leave. Luc, come on! Don’t leave me hanging-’’

Lucas shrugged. ‘’Payback’s a bitch.’’ He blew a kiss and winked at the camera before ending the call.

The screen went black as Lucas hung up, disconnecting the call. Jens stared at his phone, mouth open slightly, having been cut off before he could protest any more. He felt his dick twitch and groaned in frustration, a reminder of his growing problem. What was he supposed to do now? Jerk off to the stains on his ceiling? He doubted it would work.

Lucas: Here’s something to help with your...problem. Took it last night with the thought of you 😏🍆✨

[Image attached]

Jens' mouth went dry as he stared at the photo.

Fuck.

A bare stomach, shirt bunched up near the lens and a hand sliding underneath sweatpants, mid-tone trail of hair vanishing into the darkness. The grey sweatpants had a significant tent and Jens knew it wasn't only Lucas' hand that was hidden under.

He clicked on the photo, making it fill his phone screen, gaze lingering on Lucas' smooth stomach, moles scattered here and there in various sizes. He recognized the fading hickey right on his hip bone, a memory from when Jens slept over at Lucas’. The bad lighting of what he assumed was Lucas' bedroom highlighted just enough to make Jens take a breath and reach into his boxers, mimicking Lucas' last night activities.

.

Monday, February 17th

Picking up his sister at school wasn’t Jens’ initial Monday plan. After spending a weekend apart, Lucas and him had planned to go to Lucas’ place after school to...hangout. While jerking off to Lucas’ explicit picture had done the job, it wasn’t as good as the real thing.

But their plan had been cut short when Jens’ mom couldn’t join their dad and his sister had no one to pick her up from school.

‘’Is this okay?’’ Lucas asked as they walked to Lotte’s school. He hadn't met any member of Jens’ family yet, he wanted to check with Jens first - even if Jens was the one who asked to come along.

Jens furrowed his eyebrows, confused. ‘’Why would it not be?’’

Lucas shrugged. ‘’I don’t know. She’s never met me. Won’t it be weird for her?’’

‘’No. She might pester you with tons of questions, but I don’t think she’ll catch on for us.’’

‘’Do you not want to tell her?’’

‘’It’s not that. I don’t even think she knows what bisexual means.’’

Even though Lotte was smart for her age, Jens doubted she had learned those big terms. The vastness of sexuality wasn't something they taught kids at school.

They stopped as they reached the school’ gate and Jens checked the time on his phone. Seven minutes left until class ends.

Jens leaned his back against the fence and listened as Lucas was telling him about his weekend. He told him about Isa getting drunk and singing karaoke, missing all the notes to this super cheesy love song. It was horrible - and hilarious. Lucas’ ears were still bleeding from the screeching and how off key she sounded. Jayden had made a video, but sadly Lucas didn’t have it.

As Jens was listening to Lucas’ other anecdotes from his weekend in Utrecht, both boys started getting dirty looks from other parents from simply holding hands. Lucas noticed first, his smile falling as he became very self-conscious of his surroundings, and let go of Jens’ hand. Jens didn’t comment on it, narrowing his eyes at the close minded, homophobic moms.

The final bell rang and kids poured out the front doors like a giant tidal wave. Lotte saw her brother and ran up to him giving him a hug from behind. “Where’s Mama? She was supposed to pick me up today.”

‘’Mom had to replace someone at work. She sent me instead,’’ he responded, reaching behind himself and putting a hand on her shoulder to hug her back.

‘’Where’s your jacket? Mama said to wear it this morning or you’re gonna get sick,’’ Lotte’ voice asked, standing behind her brother, noticing his absence of outwear.

‘’Someone stole it,’’ Jens defended, turning around to face her.

‘’Liar.’’ Jens made a face at her - very mature - and she glanced at Lucas, not recognizing him. ‘’Who are you?’’ she asked, giving him a look.

Her tone was a bit rude, but Lucas smiled at her. She’s a kid, he reminded himself. ‘’I’m Lucas. You must be Lotte? Jens told me about you.’’

She pulled her eyebrows together. ‘’He did?’’ Lucas hummed. ‘’Well, I never heard of you. How long have you and Jens been friends for? You’ve never come around before with Robbe or the other guys?”

Lucas laughed and gave Jens a look, not knowing what to say. Lucky for him, Jens came to his rescue.

‘’Lucas is coming home with us. We...we have a school project to work on,’’ he lied. ‘’And...he’s not just my friend, Lotte. Lucas is my boyfriend.’’

‘’Your boyfriend?’’ she repeated, a bit confused. ‘’Don’t you mean girlfriend? Where did Jana go?’’

The thing with children was that they have no filters - and always asked tons of questions. Lucky for him, Lotte loved Jana and liked to constantly ask about her absence.

‘’We are not together anymore.’’

‘’Why?’’

‘’Because we're just not.’’ Jens sighed, getting impatient and irritated by his sister’s questions. ‘’Now, let’s go.’’ He took her hand and they were on their way.

Lotte didn’t notice Jens irritation and proceeded to ramble on as they made their way home. Kids had a lot of things to say at this age.

Jens pulled out his keys to unlock the door when Lotte reminded him about her dance recital.

‘’I have a dance spectacle on Thursday, will you be there? Dad said he’ll be there,’’ she said, excitedly. ‘’He said he’ll bring me flowers.’’

‘’I’ll be in the front row.’’

‘’You’ll be coming too, right?’’ she asked Lucas, taking the brunet by surprise.

He hadn't expected Lotte to invite him, given how haughty she acted to him minutes ago, but kids can be surprising.

‘’If that’s alright with Jens,’’ Lucas responded, glancing at his boyfriend for approval.

Jens looked between his sister and his boyfriend. ‘’I should be asking you the same. My parents will be there. You ready to meet them?’’

.

Tuesday, February 18th

Taking a break from his homework, Jens decided to get something to eat. He had eaten dinner less than an hour ago, but was still hungry. This paper was due tomorrow and he wasn't half-way done. Maybe he was stress eating? Who knows.

Jens was almost at the end of the stairs, thinking whether he should take cookies or chips when he saw his father’s laptop and dress shoes in the entrance, next to his sister’s pink rain boots. He furrowed his eyebrows. It was possible that his dad didn’t need his laptop, that they had computers at his job, but why would he leave work without his shoes? And why was he not home yet? It was way past 5pm.

Should he call his mom? What was his dad’s work’s company name? Maybe he can make a call and ask if he’s at his desk or if someone named Mohamed Stoffels works for them? If he wasn’t at work, where was he? His car wasn’t in the driveway, he had to be somewhere.

.

Wednesday, February 19th

Aaron: Is tomorrow alright with everyone?

Robbe: Good for me!

Moyo: Me too!

Aaron: Jens?

Jens’ phone buzzed on his bed, lost under his textbooks. The History test that had been reported was happening tomorrow and Jens had completely forgotten until he heard some girl mention it in class. He and Lucas’ studying attempt hadn’t been a success in terms of real studying so Jens had to power through and learn everything in less than 24h.

Why is he so last minute?

Jens: Can’t

Jens: I’m going to my sister’s dance spectacle. Can’t miss it

Moyo: We need to film a Broerrrs vlog soon though. I know we posted on Valentine’s Day, but we filmed that almost a month ago. We need new content

Robbe: I’m going to lunch with Sander and his mom on Saturday and visiting my mom on Sunday

Jens: Why don’t we just plan something for next week? Like on Wednesday? We can do something at the skatepark?

Aaron: That sounds good to me. I’m free that day

Moyo: So, Amber finally let you off your leash 😂

Aaron: 🖕🏻

Robbe: That works for me as well

Jens: Cool. See everybody on Wednesday after school

.

Thursday, February 20th

Jens waited for Lucas outside the auditorium Lotte’s dance spectacle was held at. He checked his phone, waiting for an update from Lucas about his journey. He said he was close to the venue, but that was ten minutes ago. Where was he?

From here, he could hear the group of hostile parents ranting about their children' talent and how their child was better than everyone else and tearing others down. Jens hated this kind of parents. They were showing toxic behavior to their kids and teaching them the wrong way of being competitive.

A head of curls turned the corner and Jens smiled, seeing Lucas had dressed up a bit for the occasion, having switched his blue jeans for black ones and a less wrinkly tee shirt. It was cute that he put effort and wanted to look good, make a good impression when meeting his boyfriend's parents.

''Am I late?'' he asked, seeing a few parents getting inside and a lot of cars in the parking lot. ''I was on the phone with Kes and didn't see time pass.''

Jens put his phone in his pocket and shook his head. ''No. You're good.'' He stole a kiss from Lucas, lingering as if they hadn't seen each other at school two hours ago. Did he put cologne on? ''Ready to meet my mom?''

Lucas made a quiet noise but smiled, nodding. He hadn’t said anything, but his stomach was knotted with a small stress from meeting Jens’ parents. Jens said his parents would like him, but Lucas couldn’t help but think: ‘what if they don’t?’. After all, he was the first boy Jens would introduce to them.

''Mom.''

Fenna stopped her conversation with the woman next to her and glanced at her son. She smiled, seeing that he wasn't alone. ''You must be Lucas. My daughter told me about you. 'Jens' new ‘girlfriend'.''

Lucas chuckled at Lotte's word mixing and nodded. ''Yeah. That's me.''

“It’s very nice to meet you, Lucas. You must like Jens very much to come to an 8 years old’s dance recital.”

Jens face turned bright red as his mom teased him, fulfilling her motherly duty to embarrass her son.

Lucas grinned, leaning back against Jens. ‘’Actually, Lotte invited me. I hope I'm not intruding.’’

Fenna shook her head. ''Not at all. I’m glad she invited you. Otherwise, I don’t know when nor if Jens would’ve told me about you.’’

Jens rolled his eyes. ‘’Of course I would've. It’s just very recent, Mom.’’

‘’Don’t just stand there. Have a seat.'' She took her purse from the chair beside her and Jens sat down, Lucas doing the same next to him. ''Get ready to be amazed at the amount of glitter and squealing that is about to happen.”

.

‘’Where were you?’’ Jens asked the second his dad came home, turning on the small lamp.

He had been waiting for him in the living room, lights turned off, like parents do in movies when their kids miss curfew. Jens knew his mom wouldn’t confront him about missing Lotte’s dance spectacle, but seeing how upset his sister was, his dad needed to be questioned.

‘’You missed Lotte’s dance spectacle.’’

‘’It was tonight?’’ He removed his jacket, hanging it on the hooks in the entrance. ‘’I got held back at work. I’m sorry-’’

‘’I’m not the one you should apologize to. You promised her you’d be there. Do you know how heartbroken she was when she came on stage and didn’t see you in the front row?’’

‘’I’ll be there next time.’’

Bullshit. Jens scoffed. ‘’Don't make promises you know you can’t keep. Everyone might buy your lies, but I don’t.’’

Mohamed frowned, confused. ‘’What is this about?’’

‘’I’m the one who had to hold her while she cried after her dance performance because you weren’t there. I’m the one who picked her up on Monday because you weren’t answering your phone. I’m the one who took you to bed the night you got so drunk you couldn’t take off your shoes on your own. I’m the one who is helping mom around the house because you’re never there. We’re about to lose the house because of you. Because instead of picking yourself back up, you pile on the lies and assume we’re all blind enough to not notice.’’

‘’I’m tired of always having to cover for you every time you fuck up. You’re the father figure in this family, not me.’’

‘’I’m doing better now, I have a job and-’’

‘’Do you even have a job? Or is it another one of your lies? Because I saw your work shoes and laptop at the bottom of the stairs on Tuesday and I’m 99% certain you left the house with them in the morning.’’

Mohamed’s face tightened and Jens’ eyes grew wide, realizing that he had just confronted his father and was right about him lying.

“Go to your room. It’s late and you have school tomorrow.”

‘’Are you sending me to my room because I’m out of line or because I’m right?’’

Jens didn’t wait for his dad’s response, walking over to the stairs and going to his room, like he was ordered to.

He closed his bedroom door behind him and locked it. His heart was beating fast behind his chest, reeled up from the argument with his dad. He hadn’t meant to get this heated nor to confront him about everything, but once he started talking, he just word-vomited the rest.

Jens wished their conversation hadn’t gone like that, but he couldn’t keep everything in anymore. He had enough.

He wondered if his mom had heard them? They didn’t yell, but it was pretty intense. Jens didn't care though. If anything, it was a good thing that his mom heard. Now, she knew about her husband's lies.

He felt a tightening pain in his chest and his mind was racing. Running his hands over his face, Jens needed to calm down or else he wouldn't be able to sleep. He went to his dresser, pulled it open, and groaned, remembering that he was still out of weed. He needs to see Michiel and ask for more soon.

The bag of Xanax stared at him in the drawer, a couple white pills left in it, right next to his rolling paper. He had told himself he wouldn’t take Xanax again, but it was - again - his only option tonight.

Once the pill swallowed, Jens went to lay on his bed and curled up on himself, waiting for the medication to kick in.

.

Friday, February 21st

‘’Where are we meeting them?’’

‘’The bar in front of the café. You know, the one you met Sander and Robbe at?’’ Jens explained, pulling on his shoes and fishing his keys from his jacket to lock the door on his way out.

Lucas hummed.

The bar that they usually go to was having a half off drink special, so they decided that they should all go out and have a guys night. Robbe had invited Sander and suggested that Jens ask Lucas to come as well. Moyo and Aaron had already met Lucas so him tagging along wouldn’t cause too much suspicion. And, it’s not like they would all stay together inside the bar - at least, not all night.

‘’I was hoping it would be just the two of us tonight,’’ Lucas said with a pout, looking too cute for his own good.

Jens sighed, stepping forward where Lucas was standing. ‘’Me too, but I can’t always blow my friends off. We can always sneak into the bathroom or something? I’m sure we’ll find a place to make out.’’

Lucas smirked. ‘’I like this idea very very much.’’ He leaned his head against Jens’ and brought their lips together, winding his arms around Jens neck, and snaking a hand in his hair.

Their kiss was short as Jens pulled back, suddenly reminded of something.

‘’I forgot something upstairs. I’ll be quick.’’

Sighing, Lucas let go of him and Jens hurried upstairs, climbing the stairs two by two to save time.

He opened his top drawer and reached for the bag of pills, fully aware that Lucas was waiting downstairs and that he was doing this behind his back. Jens contemplated if he should take one, knowing Moyo would have weed on him and would share a blunt with them and he’d feel the same. But, he wanted the high now and knew the effects of Xanax were much faster and more efficient than weed.

Just as he was about to pop it into his mouth, Lucas opened his bedroom door and came up behind him.

‘’Jens, Robbe asked if we were on our way- What are you doing?!’’

Whirling around, Jens saw Lucas standing in his doorway, blue eyes wide and staring right at the Xanax he was about to take. Fuck.

‘’You said you weren’t taking any. You lied to me.’’ Lucas shook his head, stepping back.

Jens tried to reach out and explain what was happening, but Lucas was backing away from him, completely disconcerted. He didn’t know what hurt more; that his boyfriend had lied to him or that he had snuck upstairs to take this shit.

‘’Sorry, I..I have to go home,’’ Lucas said, voice shaky as he turned on his heels and raced down the stairs.

Cursing under his breath, Jens dropped the pill and went after him. ‘’Luc, wait!’’