#learning to get over his feelings for his lifelong straight best friend while falling for the actual man of his dreams fite me

[thepastneverforgets]

no but seriously, it's tommy's karaoke bar trivia night. it's tommy that apparently has enough interest in it to go to trivia night regularly, and he obviously happens to invite eddie along because they're bonding and becoming friends. and then eddie only informs buck of this because buck takes the initiative to ask when he's seeing tommy next. just for eddie to ask buck to babysit l o l. and like.... what do you mean buck's best friend is getting in between him and the badass firefighter pilot that makes terrible, brazen fake mouth static and enjoys competitive trivia??

his soulmate was literally blocking him from his ideal husband.

[lettrespromises]

#LettresPromises informs you : You have one notification. ──➤ 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐋!

─➤ @theastroooooworld​ 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 : ❝oi oi oi nikki ♡! i hope you are well as always. can i have hc's for Tanaka, Ushijima and Bokuto (separately) ? how would they behave with their childhood best friend who supports them since their beginning in volleyball but with whom they gradually fall in love ? thanks !!je t'aime tant, prends soin de toi et des tiens 🧡🌅❞ ─➤ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 : ❝my dearest cam,  forgive me for the terrible, terrible sense of never being on time but i’ve heard this letter comes at the right time (hopefully this letter will help a tiny bit while you’re healing.) je t’aime fort fort, prends soin de toi (et de ton tibia et de tes cervicales) et des tiens! sealed with a magic kiss to blow your pain away,  nikki.❞

──➤ 𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐎𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 : Tanaka, Bokuto and Ushijima gradually fall in love with their childhood best friend. ─➤ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : mentions of a nose bleeding.

──➤ Tanaka Ryuunosuke sent you a letter, would you like to read it?

Despite his flamboyant sense of worship for Kiyoko, Tanaka does not know how to handle emotions, romantic ones, that is. Sure, he (alongside with Nishinoya) are willing to kiss each centimeter of concrete blessed by Kiyoko’s footsteps, but despite his burning passion, Tanaka is rendered into a stuttering mess when the attention is focused on him.

He has hidden and sometimes projected his blooming crushes for other people onto proves of love for Kiyoko, and in that sense, knowing he could solely focus his attention on her brought him a sense of security because he is so scared of the unknown, especially romantically-wise.

Hence why, whenever he would find himself appreciating someone who wasn’t Kiyoko a bit too much to his own liking, he would bury that feeling deep down and instead transform these hushed sentiments into demonstrations of love for his one and only goddess. 

However.

Sometimes, feelings tend to be a bit stronger when they are mixed with nostalgia, that is, childhood nostalgia. Truth be told, you, Tanaka and Noya were always found together... And often in the worst scenarios (just like that one time you and Ryuu were waiting for Nishinoya and you had to help Tanaka contain all the blood leaking from his nose at the sight of the bombshell accompanying Nishinoya’s grandfather.) 

Surely enough, Tanaka had always seen you like the equivalent of Nishinoya, meaning that he would confess every little secret locked in the back of his mind, even those including Kiyoko. 

Your presence was comforting, and he always considered you extra fuel to animate his fire whenever you would watch him during practice (and you were the first to throw an empty bottle straight to his head whenever he would throw his shirt off after scoring an impressive bottle.)

But in a very, very dramatic way, Kiyoko found herself become gradually set free of Tanaka’s romantic antics and devotion which led her to question the cause of all of this— despite her dislike for any kind of grandiose display of devotion, the fact Tanaka had started to stop giving her attention was a huge red flag regarding his state.

She hesitated to go talk to Nishinoya, but she was expecting to be met with no serious answer, and instead, just watch him drool during several minutes. 

She, thus, went to the next best person who would be able to comprehend this sudden switch in attitude: you, and your lifelong experience regarding Tanaka.

You were undoubtedly quizzical, but things took another turn when Tanaka himself showed up around the corner of the gym, and an uncharacteristic blush crept on his cheeks, Kiyoko took it as a clue to leave you alone.

“Is there anything you wanted to tell me, Ryuu? Are you sick or anything? You haven’t been, you know, following Ki—“

“I like you a whole lot. A lot. Like, a lot.” He confessed, his body was rigid but his eyes testified of all the love he had for you.

You couldn’t help but allow a soft giggle to break free from your lips, “does that mean you’re going to be worshipping me now?”

And as soon as the words died on your lips, his dropped on one knee, and delicately reached for your hand which he enveloped with his palms and soon smothered with love-infused pecks. “Anything for you, my beautiful divinity. I’ve been waiting for this day since we were kids, now I got to worship you everyday, the sunshine of my life.”

──➤ Bokuto Koutarou sent you a letter, would you like to read it?

Before Akaashi came in the picture, you’ve always been his pilar, his rock, his pivot, his safe person. Bokuto soon learned to identify you as the person he could go to if anything were to happen.

You knew firsthand how to handle his emo mode since you were kids, and as a child, Bokuto would make himself appear look sad on purpose just so you could focus your attention on him and smoother him with love and kind touches.

Years later, this side of his personality never faded away, but never did your calming antics, nor did you stop always keeping an eye out on him during practice.

Bokuto expressively asked you to be the manager of the team, he said it was to “give you the best seats in the house to admire the way of the ace”, but truthfully, you were the fuel to the fire burning like an inexorable inferno within him.

You and Akaashi completed one another perfectly to find a balance for Bokuto, but at times, when Bokuto would find himself being overwhelmed by sad thoughts on the court, Akaashi would always suggest him to look at you, sitting on the benches.

It had become a ritual, each time Bokuto felt nervous or tortured by his own emotions, his shining golden orbs would find your frame, and a smile on your end was enough to make him feel at peace again. And that, ever since Bokuto started playing volleyball.

One day, during training, Bokuto had ententered a severe streak of shots, and each time the ball slammed the ground loudly in victory, his eyes darted on your form to study your reaction. He started doing anything to impress you since that day, even the silliest things like carry all the water bottles for you until (inevitably) tripping on the ground.

But striking for your attention and validation over and over again also meant that his emo modes were going to be even more intense too.

As his palm slapped the surface of the ball into a diagonal strike, his body shifted in a straight position, thus transforming the shot into a straight line.

The whines of protest were already leaving his lips, and soon enough his entire body language testified of how his emotions got the best of him: his shoulders were slumped, the tips of his hair faced down, his brows were weakly furrowed. It was a crisis situation.

“Agaaaashehhh! Can you get me Y/N, pleaaaase? I feel like I’m gonna melt and freeze at the same time.” Bokuto pleaded, his golden orbs were glossy under the gathering of the salty pearls in the corner of his eyes.

Without wasting more time, Akaashi jogged to you, and quickly explained the situation with a hint of worry in his tone which was unsual for him.

Your palm brushed Bokuto’s back in a soothing manner, only to find yourself prisoner of his embrace as his forelimbs found shelter on the small of your back, the tip of his nose nestled in the crook of your neck.

“Y/NNNN, I can’t even do diagonal shots anymore... It’s, like, my body goes for diagonal but I keep on hitting straight lines, I feel so dumb and useless...” His words were accompanied by whines of discontent, clearly indicating that this emo situation was more alarming than the others.

Your palm rubbed invisible shapes on his back in a soothing manner, humming at his confessions, “I can’t do anything right, can’t hit diagonal shots, can’t be a good captain, can’t even confess to you that I’ve loved you since day one.”

An angel passed.

“Kou, did— were you serious?”

“Does that mean you don’t like me? ‘S fine, I swear.” He now had his state focused on you, eyes as glossy as ever, and it took you all the strength in the world not to soothe his pain away by smothering him with kisses.

“I like you too, Kou, as big as the sky.” You offered him a genuine smile, your palms having moved to cup his palms while your thumbs were brushing the skin of his cheeks.

The tips of his hair immediately quirked up, and his signature grin throned once more amongst his facial features : “Wooooah! As big as the sky? That’s so big, sunshine! Guess what? I love you as big as the court!”

Another giggle found its way past your lips, soon quieted by the way your planted a peck on his cheek, “That’s a lot, Kou, more than I could’ve ever hoped for.”

And as Bokuto cradles you in his embraces, he excitedly stares at Akaashi who has a hint of a smile on his face, jumping a bit over the excitement.

“Kou, I know you’re happy and all but it’s hard to keep up with your hug if you’re jumping all over the place.”

“My bad, sunshine, you just make me so happy, ya know?”

──➤ Ushijima Wakatoshi sent you a letter, would you like to read it?

Now, I have already stated that Ushijima is not emotionless, rather he decides whether or not something or someone is worthy of the reveal of his emotions. And only three things fit on this list: Tendou, volleyball and yourself.

You actually met Ushijima as a child at an art discovery class for children. Ushijima had isolated himself from the rest of the children because the remarks of his mother were still ringing loud and clear in his head, but when you approached him and complimented how unique of an approach his left hand offered, he was over the moon (not that he showed it though.)

Much like Bokuto, Toshi is the kind of person to associate someone as his safe person, someone he can go to if needed, or at least feel their presence for reassurance. Needless to say, you are this person to Wakatoshi, always have been since the first doodles you’ve shared together.

In his case, Tendou actually pushed you to be the manager of the team, remarking that your presence would probably motivate Ushijima even more and make him more grounded if he had someone to hold on to during games.

To this day, you’ve always stayed late after practice and watched over Wakatoshi, spike after spike, serve after serve, until his fingers were bleeding and the moonshine outshone the neons of the gym.

You always carried medical tape with you, because you knew he was always bound to push behind his limits, only because he knew that you’d always be there for him, which happened to be true.

Now, now. Wakatoshi does know what feelings are, he knows how to recognize them kinesthetisically and tends to do mental notes of how people manifest their own emotions. Thus, he starts to notice the way his stomach creates knots whenever you’re in the same vicinity.

After training, Tendou finds him reading ads in the latest Jump edition, but Ushijima is quick to interrogate him : “Ah, an ad for plant medicine. Do you reckon this would help my stomach ache, Tendou?”

Tendou blinks once, then twice “Mhm, ‘depends on what kind of stomach ache we’re talking about here, Wakatoshi-kun.”

“It‘s odd. It’s not so much painful but it always happens when Y/N is near me.”

Tendou wipes an inexistent tear away in a dramatic manner, “Toshi-kun, you’re not sick at all, you’re in love.”

Since this sudden realization, Wakatoshi tends to avoid you because he believes that despite the sweet nature of this feeling, this stomach ache is taking a bit too much space to his liking.

He realizes soon, however, that the longer he waits, the worse it becomes.

After practice, and in an ever so natural manner, Ushijima grabs your wrist, and sends a glare to the rest of the team in order to silently tell them to leave the gym now that practice is over.

“Y/N, I’m sorry for taking some of your time so suddenly, I hope I did not startle you.” His grip on your wrist fades away slowly, and you offer him a hint of a smile.

“Don’t worry, Toshi, you’re all good.”

“I requested your presence because it seems I have developed feelings for you.”

A vivid blush colors the apples of your cheeks, your mouth is set agape for a few agonizing seconds: “You think or you know?”

“I don’t know.” He replies, and there’s a hint of disappointment in himself at the lack of retrospection on his end.

“Well, let me help you then.” Your palm is now enveloping his cheek in a loving hold, whilst your lips plant a lingering kiss on his opposite cheek, leaving Wakatoshi at loss for words.

“I, um, I’m positive now. I truly have feelings for you.”

[kerie-prince]

scent of theirs

Draco Malfoy x Non-Binary!reader (fluff)

requested: (anon) Hello! Could I request Draco x Non-binary Y/n they were childhood friends but Draco stopped talking to them because they were sorted into Hufflepuff and then in their 6th year Slughorn makes the Amortentia and they smell each other and Draco is scared because he doesn’t think y/n would want him?

summary: Your lifelong best friend didn't take your sorting too well in your first year of Hogwarts. It saddened you, but you learned to move on. Only thing is, you actually haven't. And neither did he.

a/n: i hope this turned out well! i did lot's of research on what it means to identify as non-binary so if it's wrong, let me know so i can re-write it!

(gif not mine; creds to owner)

You’ve been through many things growing up; at age 5, your father passed away due to a blood curse. At age 9, you broke your right arm from a fight with a boy twice your size and surprisingly won. And at age 11, a few months before your first day at Hogwarts, you realized that you didn't identify with the societal norm of just one gender. During all these events, there's been one person by your side: Draco Malfoy.

Draco’s been your best friend since birth. Your families are some of the oldest pureblood wizards and companionship had joined the families for generations. At one point, you actually believed that the Malfoy’s were your own blood relatives, but unfortunately they’re not. Didn’t matter, you still called his parents ‘Auntie and Uncle’.

Your best friend was running down to your house, Dobby straight on his tail yelling, “Young Master, wait for me!” The young boy ran up to the door and knocked with high energy, not stopping until someone opened the door. “Hello Master Draco-” your housemaid was cut short as he ran past her and ran straight to your room. Looking inside, you weren't there. His next best guess was in the greenhouse. He ran in and saw you watering the mandrakes. “Y/N! I got my letter!” Draco waved the parchment around excitedly. “Where’s yours?”

You had a disappointed look on your face. He mirrored the same look until you started laughing. You pulled out your letter from the pocket of your jeans with a smile. ‘Don’t joke like that again,” Draco scolded. Later that week, his parents took you two to Diagon Alley shopping for supplies. The entire time, Draco talked about how excited he was for the both of you to start your educations and most importantly, be sorted into Slytherin together.

When the hat placed on your head announced ‘Hufflepuff’, he felt strange. But in his mind, the one who was strange was you. From then on, he stopped talking to you while you were at school. During breaks, he’d put on his best act in front of your families but behind closed doors, he reminded you of how he thought of your house; weak and pathetic.

Now, in sixth year, you two had completely cut ties. Your families still enjoyed each other's companies, though. You walked the hallways with your best friends Justin, Ernie and Hannah. “How do you suppose this new professor is?” Ernie asked. From what you saw at the first feast of the year, Slughorn looked somewhat quirky. Of course, no one could beat Trelawney. “Hopefully, he’s nice,” you said.

An arm bumped against yours in the hallways. Even though they bumped into you, you were the one to say ‘sorry’. A familiar voice, now deeper, scoffed at you. “Watch where you’re going, idiot.” Draco looked at you with hateful eyes. He kept walking with his crew of followers.

It hurt you that the person you grew up with became a stranger through the years. And what hurt the most was that even though he stopped being your friend, your love for him never ceased. He never bullied you nor misgendered you. It was a small indication that he still cared for you.

As you and your friends took your seats, you waited for Professor Slughorn to start his lesson. Everyone stared as Harry and Ron came into class late and you stifled a laugh when they were seen fighting for a book. “Now, class, can anyone tell me these concoctions I have on this table?” Half of the class had their hands raised. “Ah, Miss/Mr. Y/L/N-”

“It’s just Y/L/N,” you and Draco stated at the same time. You looked into his light blue eyes. He didn’t meet yours. Slughorn looked at the papers in his hand that had the list of students and surely enough was a mark next to your name to just call you by your last name per your request. “Yes, terribly sorry. Can you tell me what this potion is called?”

The pink mist in the air was recognizable. “That would be Amortentia.”

“Very good. Would you explain to the classroom what it does?” Slughorn asked.

You stepped closer to the table, “This is one of the most powerful potions to date. Specifically, it’s a love potion. It takes the scent of the person you desire. When given to a person, they fall in love with the first person they see.”

“That is correct, thank you Y/L/N.” You went back to your friends as he dismissed you, “Today, we will be making Amortentia and you will record what, or in better words who you smell. Once I’ve seen that you’ve properly brewed the potion, you will start a paper on the dangers of using this potion incorrectly which will be turned in at the end of this week in my office. You may begin now.”

At your table, your friends decided to turn it into a group effort; one will gather all the ingredients and one will read the instructions out loud as you all worked with your own cauldrons. You volunteered to gather the ingredients. In the back of the class, you reached for a glass jar. A pale hand also reached for the same jar and brushed his hands with yours.

Draco looked at you with the signature scowl, “Get your own, Y/L/N.” He grabbed the one you had your eyes on and turned away.

“Thank you,” you whispered. Draco stopped in his tracks at your words. “For what?” he asked as he looked over his shoulder. “For… that. Earlier in class,” you reminded him.

He looked forward, straightened his back and replied, “It’s nothing.” When he left, you felt something within you. Sadness, yes. But a little flutter in your chest. You were able to find another jar and headed back to your table with your housemates. It was quite surprising how easy it was to make Amortentia. “You’d think that for something that’s so powerful, it would be difficult to make,” Hannah pondered once she finished her potion.

“Alright, what do you guys smell?” Justin asked.

“I smell,” Hannah started, “gardening pots, flowers, and shampoo.” Justin, Ernie and you all looked at each other and smirked as you looked at Neville across the room. “Wonder who that could be,” Ernie teased. “Shut it. Who’s next?” Justin nor Ernie wanted to go. Ernie insisted that he didn’t smell anything from his. “Maybe I made it wrong,” he used as an excuse. “No, because we all made it the same way so it should be right,” Hannah pressed on.

“Fine, I’ll go,” you declared. You nervously took in the scent from your cauldron, not knowing who you would smell. Or maybe you did but didn't want to admit it to yourself. “I smell men's cologne, apples, and fresh toothpaste.” You knew instantly who it was. Without knowing, Draco had heard you from his table. His eyes bore into yours and you couldn't tell what he was thinking.

From behind you, Slughorn surprised you as he looked into your cauldron. “These are brewed beautifully, good work. You may be excused or if you’d like, you can start your papers in class.” With that, you grabbed your things and walked out the class ignoring the questions from your friends.

You made a straight line into Myrtle’s bathroom knowing no one comes in here. Her cries were drowned out as you stood over the sink. You potentially confessed out loud about your feelings for Draco for everyone. All you could do was hope that no one picked up on it. But the look on his face was confirmation enough that he knew.

The bathroom door was heard opening and you panicked. You could've sworn no one comes here. Here you thought you could just bask in embarrassment alone.

A silhouette came closer to you in the poorly lit bathroom until it became clear who it was. “Draco, what are you doing here?”

“Can we talk?” He asked gently. “Why? So you can make fun of me? Just get it over with and go back to your friends so you can laugh at me all you'd like.”

“Will you just shut up and listen to me?” Draco didn't try to hide his annoyance. “In class, who did you smell in the potion?”

“What, now you want me to say it? Was me saying out loud for the whole class to hear not enough for you?” You kept jabbing at him as you tried to hold your tears. “I’m not really in the mood for this, Draco. I’d like to be left alone.” He sighed deeply and rubbed his forehead. You didn't understand why he was annoyed. You half expected him to have laughed at you even though he’s never actually done that in the past few years.

Draco cleared his throat and walked closer to you. “Do you want to know what I smelled?” His gaze was soft and voice low. You stood frozen before him before you scoffed with your arms crossed, “You gonna describe Parkinson to me?”

“I smelled roses, cinnamon, and chocolate,” Draco’s gaze never faltered from you. Without noticing, he stood inches from you. The words clicked in your head when you heard he named three of your favorite things.

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” You uttered. He took one of your hands in his and rubbed it gently. “Before I heard you, that’s what I smelled. You were who I smelled in that Amortentia. Not Pansy, not anyone else. And when I did, I never thought that you would feel the same. I thought that after the way I’ve treated you, you had forgotten all about me. I’m sorry for acting the way I did when you got sorted into Hufflepuff.” His confession shocked you to say the least.

A tear fell down on your cheek. What do I say to this? you thought to yourself. Before thinking, your mouth spoke for you, “I forgive you.” Deep down, you meant it. Your reply made Draco smile before he pulled you in for a hug. “And one more thing,” he said. He pulled away just enough to look at you without letting go, “Would you be my… my partner?”

Your heart skipped a beat from his proposal. Everything was happening quickly and your mind was going on overdrive as your stomach had been filled with butterflies. Just an hour ago, you two were strangers who didn't look eye-to-eye anymore. But now, Draco was asking you to be his partner. Inside, you knew the answer. It was clear.

“Yes,” you accepted. Not even seconds later, he kissed you with passion. His lips were just as soft as you imagined. And he thought the same of yours. Years of being estranged to each other all ended that day as your newfound partner walked outside into the hallways with you beside him.

His partner. It has a nice ring to it.

—

requests are open!

[missmentelle]

Hi MM/Bee! I'm a recent college graduate. I always worked hard in school and I matured a lot at college, but I'm realizing how low my self-esteem is. I'm obsessing over the things I haven't done/accomplished, scholarships I never applied for, my body image, my high school days, "not being as successful as my high school class", an old crush who I never talked to (who is already super successful), and some days I feel like I messed up my life beyond repair. How do I work on self-love? Thank you!

For starters, I think it’s important for you to know that you aren’t the only person feeling this way. I get similar questions all the time, often from people who aren’t even out of their 20s yet. It isn’t even remotely true that you need to achieve wild success by age 25 or you’ve wasted your life, but I can understand why so many people feel that way. 

Our culture is dangerously obsessed with productivity, youth and achievement, to the point that it is actively making all of our lives miserable. It’s not hard to understand where people get this idea that they’re failing in life if they aren’t a 20-something well-travelled millionaire - that is the message our culture throws in our faces all the time - and it’s so unbelievably untrue. We compile “top 30 under 30″ lists, celebrate incredibly young performers and entertainers, and hold up extremely high-achieving lifestyles as something that every one of us needs to be striving for, but we don’t - there is no timeline for “success”, there is no one true definition of success, and people will take wildly different paths in life to arrive at the same set of goals. What you think of as your failure is not actually your failure - it’s a cultural failure that so many of us fall victim to. 

I think it’s also important to remember that you haven’t messed up your life beyond repair: you’ve barely started your life yet. Your college years are supposed to be a time of growing and maturing, and that maturation doesn’t end the moment you cross the stage - you’re going to continue to learn and change and grow throughout your lifespan. And growth means you are always going to mess some stuff up - that’s how we grow. All of us have to make mistakes in this life, and all of us have to prioritize rest sometimes; there are always going to be tests we don’t do so great on, social situations we flub, scholarships we don’t apply for, crushes we don’t confess to, deadlines we miss, relationships we let fall apart and goals we don’t achieve. Nobody speedruns life with 100% completion. And that’s okay. Those missteps and mistakes are what teach us to do better next time, or they give us the time to rest and gather energy for the next goal we want to work toward. 

Of course, learning to accept yourself and let go of cultural conditioning is easier said than done. For many of us, it’s a lifelong journey, if not the overarching theme of our lives. I wish there was a simple way to achieve it. I do, however, have some tips that can help you get there:

Unplug from productivity and self-improvement culture. Going online and seeing “Shakespeare wrote King Lear in quarantine, here’s how to maximize your quarantine time” and “here’s how I became a millionaire by age 22″ is not actually that motivating - in all likelihood, it’ll just make you feel bad about yourself. The internet is an absolute firehose of content about how you can do more, achieve more, squeeze more out of your day, and it’s completely overwhelming; honestly, most of us feel better when we stop pointing that firehose straight at our own face. It’s easier to believe that you are enough when you stop consuming content that tells you that you aren’t. Self-improvement culture looks positive on the surface, but we aren’t actually making ourselves better people by obsessing over our work and productivity - we’re just making ourselves miserable. 

Ask yourself “who benefits from making me feel bad about myself?” It’s not a coincidence that we’ve built a culture obsessed with youth and productivity - that culture is making a lot of people very, very rich. Whenever you can be convinced that you aren’t thin enough, not pretty enough, not good enough, you can be convinced to run out and buy things that might fix the problem. That’s how we ended up with a $10 billion dollar self-improvement industry and a $532 billion dollar beauty industry. Content people are harder to sell to. Of course, knowing that people are profiting off your insecurities doesn’t magically make the insecurities go away - but it’s important to start thinking critically and asking yourself “where do my insecurities come from? Is there really something wrong with me, or is someone profiting from making people like me feel this way?”

Do things that make you happy, just for the sake of doing them. Paint a picture. Plant a garden. Learn to play the mandolin. Read cheesy romance novels. Find some things that you enjoy doing just for you - things that you don’t need to maximize, monetize or optimize. You don’t even need to be good at them. If you enjoy doing it, have at it. So many of us are encouraged to suck the joy out of our hobbies by turning them into a “side hustle” or another regimented form of self-improvement. Find some activities that just make your life better and do them, just for the sake of doing them. 

Examine the role of social media in your life. Most of us don’t post a complete, unedited view of our lives on social media - we just post the highlights and keep the tough stuff - the rejections, the times we got ghosted, the bad hair days - to ourselves. And even if you know that cognitively, it still sucks to log onto social media when you’re having a “blah” week and find yourself bombarded with other people’s engagement announcements, med school acceptances, wedding pictures and photos of the new homes people just bought. Social media forces you to compare your “average” to everyone else’s “best”, all the time. And the numbers don’t help - social media lets you do an exact comparison of how many followers and likes you have compared to someone else, and seeing someone get more positive feedback than you can sting. Working on self-love means taking a hard look at the impact social media is having on your self-esteem. How much of your time do you spend on social media? How do you feel after you use social media? Are you following accounts that make you feel better about yourself, or worse? Do you ever feel bad about the number of likes or followers you have? Do you feel like your time on social media is wasted? Do you follow accounts that make you feel better about yourself, or worse? Stepping away from social media for your mental health is an important move for some people - you can still be happy for your friends and loved ones while acknowledging that it’s not good for you to have their achievements broadcast to you 24/7. 

Surround yourself with good, supportive people. If you find that your circle of friends tends to diminish each other’s achievements, be overly critical of each other or go out of their way to one-up each other, that’s probably not a circle of friends that’s going to be good for you in the long run. Find people who are genuinely happy for you, and make you feel supported and loved for who you are. If that means you need to branch out of your current social circles, that’s okay - you can find great friends in surprising places, and it’s worth the initial awkwardness of getting to know a new person. 

Challenge your definition of “success”. Success does not have to look like a high-paying job and a giant house and expensive cars and 2.5 honour roll children. It certainly can look that way, if you feel that those are meaningful goals for you, but it doesn’t have to look that way. A doctor is not necessarily “more successful” than a poet, and a lawyer is not necessarily “more successful” than a stay-at-home parent. The only person who gets to define what a “successful” life looks like is you. It takes time to unlearn the social conditioning that “money and prestige = success”, but it can be done. Success looks different for all of us. 

Set goals that are personally meaningful to you. It’s important for all of us to think critically about what we want, and it’s even more important to think critically about why we want it. Do we want that degree program or that accomplishment or that job because it aligns with our interests? To impress others? To prove someone wrong? Or because we feel like we’re supposed to want it? Try to focus your energy on the goals that you want, that are personally meaningful to you. If that’s law school, great. If that’s selling homemade jam at the farmer’s market, that is equally great. 

Remember that success does not have a deadline. I know this is very hard to believe in your early twenties, but your dreams do not shrivel up and blow away the day you turn 30. Life doesn’t end when your 20s are over. You haven’t missed your shot, and you don’t have to figure everything out right now. Growth and achievement are lifelong journeys - people find their dream jobs, accomplish their goals, finish degrees and meet the love of their life in their 40s, 50s, 60s and beyond. The best book I read this year was “Where the Crawdads Sing” a novel that spent 32 weeks on the New York Times bestseller list. It also happened to be the author’s first novel, and it came out when she was sixty-nine years old. Your dreams do not have an expiration date. 

Capture the joy and positivity in your life. I think one of the most important ways to feel better about your life is to spend more time focusing on all the good things in your life, rather than focusing on all the ways you could be better. Rather than fixating on whether you could have applied for more scholarships or turned that B+ into an A-, spend more time reflecting on the happy memories you have of your time in college. Again, this isn’t something that will happen overnight - it’s a learned skill that you need to consciously work on. Interrupt yourself when you are starting to fixate on things you could have done better, and make yourself list out three things you enjoyed about college. Connect with old college friends you haven’t heard from in a while. Try to take more notice of good things in your life as they happen to you - take more pictures, keep a journal, make collages, start a scrapbook, keep a box of momentos. You don’t need to have a perfect life to be happy; it’s okay to work on being happy with the life you have. 

Best of luck to you! MM

[aitarose]

SKINNY LOVE | ZUKO

PAIRING: Zuko x Reader [fem]

PLOT: Years and years of build up, only to lead to absolutely nothing. Y/N’s constant emotion was confusion, and there was no changing that when it came to Zuko’s feelings.

WARNINGS: angst

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

A/N: my best friend says he might have feelings for me, and i’m so stressed right now i’m going crazy. so here’s a little fic that literally explains our entire relationship and these are all my raw emotions ew. also this is almost word for word our conversation tonight

MY MASTERLIST

Their cycle seemed to be infinite, running in circles on the same track over and over again throughout the course of their lifelong friendship. The friendship that had been more confusing than the most trivial question in the entire world.

Y/N had always considered feelings to be straightforward. Something that could be determined with a simple yes or no answer, rather than continuous strife and struggles, arguments and silence.

She knew what she felt, and she wanted other’s to know that. Communication was no fare for her when it came to anger, sadness, and love—especially when it came to love.

Zuko on the other hand had what some would call troubles in the aspect of emotions. He’d bottle up all of his stress and worries, bursting like a volcano when they’d release. 

After years, decades of friendship and unspoken feelings, Y/N still didn’t know where she stood with the newly crowned Fire Lord. They’d danced around their relationship for what seemed like forever, him never truly speaking the words she’d always wanted to hear.

And after so many rounds of psychoanalyzing his words and phrases, the responses he’d give her after she’d try her best to pour her heart out to him, Y/N was beginning to grow sick of their routine.

It wasn’t that she didn’t love him anymore, she was just so unbelievably tired of it all. Peace was the thing she needed most. Inner peace with herself, her appearance, her confidence.

All the things that she’d never fully realized due to her constant focus on Zuko and only Zuko. The things that made someone unique, what made them them. She was lacking them, and the only way to grow was to distance herself.

So, distance was what she gave him. Y/N moved around the world, never settling in one nation, finding new cultures and traditions to enjoy and bringing them back with her to the Fire Nation every now and then.

During her little conquest, Zuko had found his place beside Mai. Comfortable in his own little bubble, never taking any risks outside of the familiarity of his daily life. He hadn’t grown up—that was the first thing Y/N had come to notice as her feelings were reborn.

It’d taken her two years to move on from him, two years to find love for herself and take interest in people other than her best friend—but the minute she heard that he ended his relationship with Mai, they’d come flying back.

All of her former insecurities pounded in her mind, screaming in her inner monologue, refusing to give her a single second of silence. Y/N was out of breath, completely lost in the sea of her own thoughts.

She and Zuko had stayed in contact over the years of her adventure. Constantly writing letters back and forth, telling each other about their day, their new friends, and whatever was remotely interesting in their lives. 

Although she hadn’t physically seen him in so long, Y/N still felt a connection to him. A connection that pulled her like a magnet the minute he stood before her, smiling his dopey, crooked grin.

When he’d wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into the tightest hug she’d ever been a part of—Y/N’s heart quite literally dropped, falling out of her body, and rolling out into the ocean. 

Her chest was tight, it was almost as if she felt like she was choking on a food that was stuck in her throat. Something that was refusing to come out, no matter how hard she tried to say those three little words—I love you.

And Zuko, himself, hadn’t settled her storm by any means. If anything, he’d encouraged it to rage on, encouraged it to continue to torment and demolish all the self respect she’d grown.

Whilst Y/N had jokingly spoken out the idea of them being together, he’d practically driven her to insanity. “What if I wasn’t joking, Zuko?” She wondered, freezing in disbelief at what she was saying. “What if I did feel that way?”

In response, Zuko simply laughed. His eyes pinched shut, a wide smile overtaking his mouth in amusement at her curiosity. “I don’t believe you, Y/N.” He rolled his eyes, playing with their intertwined hands. “You don’t actually feel that way.”

At that, a light scoff escaped Y/N’s lips, her face becoming contorted and annoyed. “Okay.” She started, shaking her head at the conversation she was about to trigger. “Well, what would your response be if I did?”

Zuko’s looked in her direction, his amber eyes meeting her steely ones. “You’re really baiting me, aren’t you?” His face went a little pale at her slight nod, a large gulp running down his neck. 

“It wouldn’t be a no.” 

Y/N’s smile dropped, her expression growing blank as her heartbeat began to jump out of her chest. What he’d just hinted at was her getting what she’d always wanted, the thing that she’d dreamed of since she was only five years old.

Both of them seemed to be frozen in the moment, neither knowing exactly what was going on as they weren’t aware of what their feelings for each other were. Their lives had become so different, they’d become so different.

Zuko was a leader now, a person that needed to have stability and assurance in his life. He was a traditionalist, he needed rules and regulations to live in harmony with himself and his people.

Y/N, however, was a free spirit. She knew what she wanted in life and she’d be sure to make it happen. Commitment and social standards weren’t on her agenda, as she didn’t have one.

But when it came to Zuko, Y/N would do anything. She’d drop her goals and dreams if it’d amount to one minute of true happiness in his arms. Her love for him had grown toxic, it was poison in her brain.

Poison that could also be considered pure. A feeling of actual and real love for the prince that she’d known for her entire life. Everything about him contradicted itself, the stress he made her feel was practically indescribable.

“Are you being serious?” Y/N was on the verge of hysterically laughing, she was so appalled by Zuko’s response. Her face was bright red, dancing on the line of embarrassment and anger. 

Zuko let go of her hands, his palm running over the back of his neck. He shrugged, sheepishly smiling as he looked everywhere but at her. “Yeah.” He sighed, pursing his lips. “That seemed like the wrong answer.”

“No.” Y/N’s neck snapped to turn to him, her eyes searching for his own. Her voice became breathless, her lungs nearly gasping for air. “Go back. Are you being serious, right now, that your answer wouldn’t be a no?”

As Zuko shook his head to signify that he wouldn’t reject her question, Y/N almost toppled over in shock. “So, figuratively speaking, if I had feelings for you—you wouldn’t reject me straight on?”

Thirty seconds was what it took for Zuko to answer her. Half a minute of earth shattering patience that Y/N had to endure before she heard his simple words. “No, of course not.”

“But what does that mean?” Y/N was now itching for closure. She had to find out what this all meant. What it meant for their past, their present, and the future of their relationship.

“I would have no reason to reject you, that’s what it means.” He simply shrugged, expecting the conversation to be over by now. The talk of feelings was wearing Zuko out, causing a large yawn to form on his features.

He was tired, exhausted at the discussion of romance and secret pining. Communication simply wasn’t his strong suit, and while Y/N fully knew that, she continued to press further.

“You don’t get it, Zuko. You’re confusing me.” She explained, waving her hands out in front of her face. “So, you wouldn’t reject me, but you also wouldn’t say yes to a confession?”

Y/N was pushing him to his emotional limit. The mental blockade that always formed in his brain, beginning to cancel out his words. Zuko’s headspace was starting to empty, sleep being the only goal in mind.

“Those do really contradict, don’t they?” His eyes had begun to drop, opening and closing. Zuko’s body was now resting on Y/N’s, most of his weight being supported by her stature.

Y/N led her best friend towards his living quarters, still having a million questions at the tip of her tongue—whilst only one made its way out. “What does it all mean? You never said what it means.”

As she opened the door to his bedroom, Zuko let go of his hold on her. He gave her a toothless smile, weary from his low energy, and closed the door, giving her a final glance through the crack of light.

“It means that I’m tired, Y/N.” His eyes held her gaze, sending her waves of confessions in a single glance. “I’m tired and I can’t give you all that you need right now. Perhaps we can continue this in the morning.”

But with morning, came no confessions. No discussion of what had gone down the night before. It was as if they’d never been together at all, as if it was just another night between two platonic friends.

In reality, Y/N didn’t believe that she’d ever be worthy enough for someone like Zuko. Someone who seemed to be so unbelievably perfect for her in every way, shape, and form.

Maybe the best way to end this constant cycle would be to disappear. To leave him be, in his own happy little life, away from herself. She’d learned to live without him once, there was no way she wouldn’t be able to do it again.

The only problem was did she really want to live a life without him?

TAGS: @practicallylivesonline​ @cherryskyies​ @shell-bells-ringding​  @xapham​ @mochminnie​ @bombardia​ @xxspqcebunsxx​ @missmorosis​ @mysticpeacecrusade @akiris​ @simpinforsukka​ @protect-remus​ @kaylove12​@lammello​ @user12345321 @duh-dobrik​

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Yamata-No-Orochi: (Part 4) Erii

ITT: The Mic Drop Heard Round the World.

The sun woke you. Bright light shone through the windows, forming a halo around the curtains and projecting the shape of raindrops from the window onto the carpet. Mingfei had left shortly before you fell asleep of exhaustion and grief. 

You’d fought hard and rebelled against the world, but this last rebellion had taken you too far. Z raised, saved, and safeguarded you. But you refused to play his love game, and that was all it took to discard you. Caesar had been at your side, encouraging you to live all this time. But now that the clouds had gathered, and the darkness of the world surrounded you, he realized that, like Chance, life was not in the cards for you. And Chu Zihang? Well, he always was a sword at your throat.

Once again the world was laughing, mocking you with its silent game of keep away. Love? Syke! Happiness? Syke! Companionship? Syke!

You hated this world. Mingfei went to Erii’s room with the Desert Eagle. What was stopping you from planting your mind in the ground and tilting Tokyo into a rift in the Earth, like it was the undersea Takamagahara? To watch its towers topple, and its buildings burn would be a fitting end to a Godzilla movie.

The hotel phone rang, insanely loud. You reached over and picked it up. “Pizza Hut,” you mumble.

Lu Mingfei stammered for a moment. Then he laughed. “Hey. You, me, Erii road trip. Right now. I left some clothes for you.”

His voice over the phone, it sounded like Z’s. You are silent, mind completely inert, spirit aching. “Sure whatever.” You hang up.

You shower and pull a comb through your hair three times, leaving it to fall over your shoulders. You don't bother with jewelry or make up. He left you a pair of skin tight jeans and a shirt that said Wild Thing across the front. White ankle socks and blue low rise canvas sneakers go over your feet.

The phone rings again. Mingfei sounded breathless. “Come now! We have to go!”

You hang up the phone and dash outside. Mingfei is waiting for you in a cherry red porsche. Erii waves with bright enthusiasm from the passenger side as he gets out and folds the seat down so you can get in the back. “Erii this is my friend, MC, She’s sick like you.”

You startle. Mingfei just went out and said it. You hold out your hand and she takes it, examining your fingers with her dark red eyes. You were lighter skinned, but this girl was near transparent. She scribbled on a notepad. “Nice to meet you. You are very pretty.”

“Guys buckle up!”

Your seatbelt had just clicked when Mingfei down shifted and floored it. The engine let out a mighty growl and the car took off like a rocket down the street. But Mingfei was relaxed, with an impish, ‘catch me if you can’ sort of look. Something in your chest stirred awake.

Erii held up her notebook. “Sakura is the best, right?”

Her smile was so sly, not something you expected to see. “Oh yeah, he's awesome!”

Her nod was sassy, like, Damn Straight.

You look at him again. He was smiling like he was angry. He was acting recklessly. The buildings were a blur outside the windows. The car rumbled like a beast underneath you as the accelerator didn't let up. You weave through traffic like lightning and soon the police are tailing you with flashing lights.

If you thought you were going fast before you were mistaken. The car dug deeper, and it felt like you floated over the road. The police car faded into the distance, unable to keep up.

He pulls into a service station and pays the attendant way too much cash. “Where are we going?” You ask.

“It's a surprise!”

“Does MC like gum?” Erii held out a piece and you helped yourself. 

You lean forward. Erii was covered head to toe in clothing, despite the good weather. 

“MC said that Erii is not stupid, that Erii is smart. MC was right, you knew a lot about yourself. But MC was sad so I wanted to take her too.” Lu Mingfei was saying. “Because she cares for Erii and understands her.”

Erii looks at you for a moment. Then she wrote in her notepad, “Cheer up. Sakura is very lucky. Thank you for caring about me.”

Her expression was so earnest and happy. Did she really understand herself? You hold out your hands for the notebook and pen. You write, “I'm too sick so my friends are scared of me.”

She takes one look at the notepad and her eyes widen. She snatches it back and writes, “Erii is not scared, Erii will be your friend.”

“Please be my friend.” You say softly.

Erii reaches out and seizes your arm. Her face is serious and she nods. When you stop at the supermarket, she drags you along, purchasing snacks and a gigantic stuffed teddy bear. Erii was not interested in herself. She wanted to cheer you up! She understood beyond words the lifelong loneliness, the constant rejection, and growing up in a world that feared you. She forcefully shoves the teddy bear into your hands. And pulls you along. It's so big you can't see around it.

Her image blurs with that of Renata. If Renata had a chance to grow up, she would be this bold.

The bear is so tall it folds against the low ceiling of the porsche. You squeeze in next to it.

“MC is from Siberia. Where she is from, the sun doesn't set in Summer. And in Winter, it doesn't rise and lights dance in the sky.” Mingfei says as you take off again.

Erii swivels in a full body, “What?!” expression and you laugh. “It is true. It's exactly like that.”

“That is AWESOME!” She turns the notepad to you and then writes, “I want to visit your home!”

You recall your promise to Caesar to go dog sledding and feel a pang of regret. But your mind has already replaced Caesar on the dogsled and put Erii there. “Let’s go dogsledding!”

She looks confused.

“Here give me your notebook.” You draw a sketch of a dog sled pulled by a team of panting dogs.

If Erii’s eyes got any bigger they would fill her face. She wrote, “IS THERE SANTA IS HE THERE”

“I… no Santas not there, but we can pretend to be Santa.”

“MC is awesome!”

Before dusk, Lu Mingfei and you two ladies arrived in the town at the southwest end of Shikoku, which is more than four hundred kilometers from Tokyo. The Porsche sports car ran for a full four hours. The whole time Erii peppered you with questions about life in Siberia while Mingfei drove. She had the impression of a magical frostland full of sky and sea. Her sparkling impression was free of brutal reality. For four hours you spoke only of the beauty and wonder of the north. Erii’s notebook is filled with sketches of white quail, snow geese, cute arctic foxes, bears, seals, and whales.

    The open-air parking lot was empty. Lu Mingfei found a parking space to park the car, and opened the door to hear the tide. You could not see the sea. A large hill stood between you and the ocean. The waves sounded like reverberating between the sky and the earth.

    "The sea?" Erii wrote to Lu Mingfei, with excitement in her eyes.

Lu Mingfei nodded his head as an answer. 

Ah the ocean… maybe four hours ago you might have been upset to meet up with the water. Now you just laugh.

Erii looks at you curiously.

“Did you know I got to ride dolphins?”

Erii practically staggers. 

“If you're lost in the ocean, sometimes dolphins will rescue you.” You hook her arm in yours. “They're big and strong and won't let you drown.”

“MC knows so much.”

“Erii knows a lot about Erii’s world. I know a lot about mine.”

Erii nods and smiles.

Lu Mingfei pulled out the compass, opened the long-prepared map, and took you to the town not far away. The sign in front of the town reads Umezuji-cho. At this time of the year, the streets of Tokyo must be bustling with people, but in this small seaside town, there are no people on the streets, only a group of elementary school students in school uniforms passing by.

Mingfei seemed to be in a rush, but Erii dallied with you, asking questions and marveling at the tofu shop, or the batik store. More than once, Mingfei had to come back and usher you forward. He clearly had some sort of plan in mind.

You find out that he hurried was so you could catch the last mountain tram, which was built next to the town's shrine and had a 45-degree angle track that made a staccato sound as you climbed.

    On both sides of the track there are dense trees. These trees cover the track like thick clouds, and it is as if you are walking through a tunnel of ever-changing colors, a tunnel made purely of foliage and flowers.

Both you and Erii are stunned with wonder. You did not have such dense forests like this growing up. The air is full of birdsong and frogs and early season cicadas. You feel someone take your hand. Erii points to your face. A bright tear shone there like a pearl. You didn't know you had shed it.

  "Sakura is not Japanese, right? How do you know such a beautiful place?" Erii wrote in her little notebook.

    "I saw a drama made in Japan. This is a very famous scene from that drama. I saw that drama a long time ago."

    "What was the name of that TV series?"

    "Tokyo Love Story." Lu Mingfei wrote one stroke at a time.

 "I liked that Japanese drama so much that I searched the Internet for all kinds of information about Ehime Prefecture, and finally learned that the ending scene was filmed in Umezuji Town, and that the school and the separate stations in the drama were real. I had always dreamed of traveling to Umetsuji-cho and had done a lot of homework.”

You and Mingfei did not really know each other. You did not think he was this level of a romantic so you didn’t understand why Caesar would want to pair you two. Now it made a lot more sense.

Lu Mingfei took out a handkerchief and blindfolded Erii: "You will see a beautiful view when you untie the handkerchief later."

When he handed one to you, your jaw drops. “I can’t believe you.”

He doesn’t say anything, just ties your eyes. You feel his hand close around yours. You can’t see Erii’s expression. “Erii, I’m so excited. This is fantastic!”

You’re smiling, you can’t stop. The memories of the events of the days before roared like angry hordes of monsters in your mind, but Mingfei and Erii have shut the gates on them. His warm hand in yours, the rhythm of the sun's rays between the trees, the crunch of your footfalls on the trail, the constant sound of birds. It was all so soothing.

 You walk the decades old mountain mining path, a road with uneven stone patchwork. At the end of the road is a long closed mine. In order to commemorate the mine that raised the town, the residents of Umezuji Town donated money to build a wooden temple-style building over the entrance and exit of the mine. Each rafter is hung with carp flags for prayers, and various porcelain dolls are placed under the eaves. This is a local custom. If the town's family gave birth to a boy, they would come here to hang a carp flag, and if it is a girl will put a porcelain doll.

 “It's exactly the same as the Internet says." Lu Mingfei said.

The tracks of the mine car had long been rusted, and weeds grew among the sleepers. You followed the track to the edge of the cliff, and Lu Mingfei helped you to climb a rock that protruded from the cliff.

He pressed his hands on you and Erii’s shoulders and said, "Now you can take off the blindfold."

You untied your handkerchief. 

The sunset blooms full in your vision. The huge sun disc had touched the sea. Ten of millions of tons of seawater slowly swirled beneath your feet. The tide broke into white splashes under the black cliffs. The wind blew endless hectares of forest. The evening woods also look like the sea from a distance, a pale red sea, with thousands of treetops swaying with the wind, forming cascading waves. 

Small towns are distributed along the winding coastline, Lu Mingfei names of them one by one -- below the cliff is the town of Umezuji, a little farther away is the town of Yamamae, Tsukishita Castle Town and Matsuron Town, and further is beyond his knowledge.

    The town's small school was already empty, and the silent playground was empty.

    The Ferris wheel spins slowly but does not carry passengers. The Ferris wheel in Umezuji Town is only a miniature version, but it is magnified in the sunset, its huge shadow cast on the undulating sea of trees.

    On the track facing the sea, the yellow slow train rumbled through the small unoccupied station, which was enclosed by white railings with the signs "Umetsuji X" and "Tokyo X”. You wonder how long it had to wait for a nostalgic and romantic fan like Lu Mingfei. Music starts playing and you can't help but laugh in disbelief.

    Lu Mingfei had pressed play on the theme song of Tokyo Love Story. His phone was the latest and the speaker was good. You couldn't believe it. This nerdy little parrot boy and scared raccoon had somehow managed to comfort you completely. Outside the shadows of Caesar and Chu Zihang, he shined bright. Maybe being on a boat with him would be fun.

Erii held up her notebook. “The world is gentle.”

You look at her, expressionless. She was right. The world in its natural state was quiet and peaceful. You’d fallen asleep in violence and awakened in violence and pain. You didn't get to experience the romantic world like this very much. In your mind, you imagine Renata in her patchwork coat, sitting next to you. In your ears, she whispers. 

You open your mouth, “Make a wish!”

Mingfei turns to you in surprise but Erii follows along, pressing her palms together. You pray.

Renata. I am coming soon. Sorry it took so long.

You sat under the roof of the mine. Erii kept writing questions. Lu Mingfei answered one by one. This girl seems to have saved up a belly of questions, and now they all came out. Mostly they referenced Anime and Manga you have never heard of. That was Erii’s world, a world of cartoon fantasy. He confirmed or denied that reality, shaping and creating the world anew as you watched her listen intently. Lu Mingfei had taken to heart your words and was upfront and simple, not lying or trying to say things she wanted to hear. You nod in approval, your eyes serious. 

The sun gradually sank below the surface of the sea, the last afterglow scattered on the water. Half of the sun and its reflection form a complete circle.

   "So this is what the outside world looks like." Erii wrote to Lu Mingfei to see.

    "Yeah, that's what it's like, no Britannia Kingdom and no Celestial Organization… disappointed?" Lu Mingfei asked.

    "No, not disappointed, like this kind of world, this kind of world is very gentle." Erii used the word gentle once again. You repeated the word in your mind. Gentle. It echoes there. As if without the constant threat of death and adrenaline, there was just empty space.

   "I really like this world." As the sun is about to disappear, Erii wrote to Lu Mingfei. "But the world doesn't like me." Erii went on to write.

You stand up and move to the other side of her. You scoot as close as you can and rest your head on her shoulder. She hugged the huge bear and lowered her eyes like a cat that had done something wrong.

 "I'll be a problem for everyone and I've been a problem for Sakura." Erii wrote again.

  "I was too willful. So I ran away from home."

  "I should have gone back a long time ago but it's still a pleasure."

   "It's beautiful here, I should have known I should have come here on the first day. Thank you Sakura, MC, thank you.”

You lower your hand over hers as she’s writing.

"No."

Erii froze for a moment.

 "No." Lu Mingfei repeated.

Lu Mingfei cocked his head to look at her with a rare serious look: "Don't think you can know what the world is like by coming out to see it. I'm still confused after living in this world for more than twenty years. You've only run out for a few days and you think you understand?"

His eyes look at you too and you’re just as shaken as Erii. But he is right! You never set foot outside the Port of Black Swan and that was 20 years ago. You saw the whole world through that tiny lens and haughtily walked around like you owned the place. You judged others through that same view as well.

  "How big the world is depends on how many people you know, and for every person you know, the world gets a little bigger for you. There are many cities in this world. There are Tokyo, Paris, Cairo, London, Istanbul... but many of them are just names to you, you haven't been there and there are no people there you want to visit, so they don't really belong to your world. There are many, many more people in this world, but you don't know them, and they don't belong in your world. There are also lots of good food and fun and nice things in this world, but the world that really belongs to you is actually very small, just the places you've been and eaten and seen the sunset and the friends who will care if you live or die."

 "Whether the world likes you or not only depends on whether your friends like you or not. Everyone has a few really good friends. They like you, therefore, the world likes you."

The world… was not Tokyo, or Cassell or Hydra… The world was Renata, Caesar, Chu Zihang, Lu Mingfei, and now Erii. You turn your head back to Tokyo, unseen in the distance. How could you leave…?

“What is a good friend?" Erii wrote in her little notebook.

    "It's the kind of friend that's so crazy about that he'll believe in you no matter what, and he'll be with you no matter what.” Lu Mingfei growled low. "If the world really doesn't like you, then the world is my enemy."

    The moment these cold and arrogant words came out of his mouth, you seemed to hear a familiar cold laugh coming from behind you. The demon of the sad world sneering with all its mockery.

Together, you and Mingfei both jerked back, but behind you were only cherry blossoms mixed with fallen leaves swirling in a breeze, and there was no sign of Z. Lu Mingfei stared at you with wide eyes and you stared right back. His mouth opened. “MC. You… heard…?”

    "Wanted: a good friend." 

He turned back to Erii waiting for him with a small book up. 

    "I am your good friend, and you will have more good friends in the future." You say.

    "But as long as we are your good friends, how can we not like you?" He said softly.

She slowly crawled towards Lu Mingfei like a kitten, vigilantly figuring out his look. Lu Mingfei looks petrified and you cover your mouth with one hand while silently cheering, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

What did he expect? Even your heart was moving and you don’t even like him! Lu Mingfei is sitting here putting Kazama level moves on this girl and now that her arms are around him and her head is on his chest, he looks two seconds away from shitting himself. You ball your fist against your lips and swallow your laughter.

Clouds gathered in the distance and the sun had set, It was time to go. You would have to get up bright and early tomorrow to get on the boat to China. Your heart was relaxed again about Caesar’s decision. After all, he was just doing his best. If you died, you would go to rest. Caesar would be tormented for the rest of his days. He wasn't sending you on the boat to die. He wanted you to live. You still believed the omniscient Z. Leaving Tokyo was a death sentence. But you also believed Caesar had his own parallel script.

It was raining by the time the train came. You stand shoulder to shoulder on the platform. “Call me to wake me up tomorrow.” You say.

 Mingfei lowers his head and laughs.

“Oh you’re planning to oversleep? Once again I have to be the mature one.” You roll your eyes. 

The train splashes up to the platform and you make sure Erii has her ticket. She sits next to the window and stares outside. Much to your surprise, Mingfei sits you next to her. He gives you a fond smile and passes you a note.

  "Dear passengers, this train terminates in Matsuyama City. We are now about to leave Umezuji-cho station. The train is about to close......" A sweet female voice echoed in the carriage. 

The doors of the train close.

You open the note in your hand. The words make you squint.

You have to live.

You and Erii gasp at the same time. Mingfei is not on the train. The doors have closed. And he is not on the train!

You leap from your seat and pound on the glass door in front of the smiling Mingfei. “Where am I supposed to go?” You will miss the boat. You won’t go to China.

Your hands slowly slide from the glass. Erii is pressing her notebook urgently against it.

Lu Mingfei tapped on the window, "Someone will pick Erii up when you get to Matsuyama City. MC, find Ruri Kazama.”

    "Won't Sakura take me back to Tokyo?" Eriki took the small book and showed it to Lu Mingfei.

    "Your family won't like me." Lu Mingfei said.

    Erii hugged the furry teddy bear and lowered her head, her long hair like a colored cloak that enveloped both her and the bear.

    "Sayonara"  said Lu Mingfei.

    Erii nodded, finally realizing that this was their parting. The train ride to Tokyo will take several hours, but Lu Mingfei will not accompany her.

    Lu Mingfei's face was stern and he didn't say anything more. There was nothing more to say. This was the parting, his carefully designed parting. He NEVER agreed to the boat. He NEVER agreed to kill you. He had carefully pulled the wool over Caesar’s eyes and convinced you that he was going to dump you on the boat. You grinned and shook your head. But the train began to move before you could even think of a comeback.

[getinthering]

Taang Week Day 2: Modern AU

“Thursday, never looking back,”

[ @taangweek​ Day 2: Modern AU

After only two weeks of spring semester, Aang is fed up and ready to drop his geology class.]

A/N: i wanna redo this and make it better and i really struggled with the world-building here ngl so I couldn’t really come up with good names for the buildings or profs.  what can you do¯\_(ツ)_/¯  Inspired by tumblr user @rllyjohnrlly’s modern au, specifically this post.

Read on AO3

***

Science, as Aang was learning, was absolutely not what he had thought it would be.  When he was still in high school, he excitedly declared a zoology major on all of his college applications, thinking he would turn his love for animals into a lifelong career.

All it took was his first college-level biology class to quickly bury that idea.  Between that and chemistry for non-majors, he felt resigned to the idea that all science classes were a bad idea for him, and that he’d better just pick the easiest one in the catalog to round out his general requirements.  Which is how he found himself enrolled in the Introduction to Geology class his freshman spring semester.  He’d learned the three types of rocks and the basics in high school, how hard could it be?

(the answer was very hard)

(but slightly less hard than biology)

After the second week of class, he sat on the floor of Katara’s dorm, textbook draped across his lap as she sat at her desk, diligently working on her homework.  She really excelled at the very classes that almost killed him and he admired that about her.

“Ugh!” Aang groaned, slamming his textbook shut and throwing his head back onto her bed.   “Katara, this is awful.” 

She set her pen down and shifted in her chair to face him, the look on her face one of confusion and concern.  “What’s the matter?” 

“I can’t do this!  I hate this class,” he replied, pressing his palms into his eyes.

“Aang, what are you talking about?  You can’t hate a class already, we’re only two weeks into the semester!  What could possibly be so bad about it now?” Katara asked, getting up from her chair and walking over to sit across from him.

He sighed and let his hands fall back into his lap.   He rolled his head to look at her.  “Because it’s awful!  I knew it probably wouldn’t be much fun, but I thought at least it would be pretty easy.  And it’s not!  It’s so hard and so boring and the professor is the most lame professor I have ever met.” 

(she couldn’t help but smirk at that)

“Okay, well, you’re not going to find a class that’s easy, especially in your weakest subject.  It’s just not going to happen.  Maybe it’ll get more interesting after the first few chapters.  Those are always just introductory anyway, they’re way more boring than the rest of the class.” She could see he wasn’t convinced and added, “The drop period was over Friday, anyway, so if you’re going to take a withdrawal, you might as well wait until after the first test.  Maybe it won’t be as hard as you’re expecting.” 

Aang sighed.  She was right.  He hated when she was right.  “Fine.  I’ll stick it out through the first test, but can we please take a study break now?”

***

Thursday morning, Aang walked into the lecture hall, trying his best not to drag his feet.  It took all of his determination that morning to make his way to class instead of staying holed up in his dorm, playing video games until he got hungry.  But he’d promised Katara and he knew he would get an earful if he broke his promise.  Maybe if he just pretended he was Katara for a period, he’d have more ease with the class.  Katara wouldn’t sit in the back, as was his first impulse, she would sit in the very first row.

He compromised and sat about four rows back.  Earbud in one ear, he set his notebook on the table and pulled out his phone, scrolling through the texts from his friends that he’d missed on his walk.  He didn’t notice when a dark-haired girl sat in the seat next to him until she tapped on his notebook.  Startled, he yanked out the earbud and looked at her.  “Um, hello?”

The girl looked at him 

(he couldn’t help but notice how pale her eyes were and the weird quality to her gaze that he couldn’t pinpoint)

and said, “You normally sit all the way in the back.  What are you doing up here now?  We haven’t even had a test.  Did you get in trouble or something?” 

His cheeks felt warm and he knew he was blushing.  “No, I just felt like maybe I’d learn better closer to the front.  This stuff has been kind of hard for me so far, I guess.” 

The look on her face was a little unsettling, like she was staring straight through him.  She finally shrugged, turning away from him.  “What’s so hard about geology?”

“I don’t know.   I guess science classes just don’t come very easily to me.”

“Well lucky for you, geology is, like, as easy as they get,” she said.  He didn’t feel especially reassured, but smiled a little anyway.

“So what you’re saying is you’ll help me study?”  Aang asked sheepishly.

She snorted, but replied, “Maybe I will.  What’s your major, anyway?”  

“Oh, um,” he stuttered, feeling the redness in his face deepening and rubbing his neck in embarrassment.  “I was a zoology major, but right now I’m undeclared.” He wanted to ask her the same question, wanted suddenly to know everything about this brazen, somewhat guarded girl who had sat next to him (and had noticed that it was not his normal seat), but was cut off by the professor calling the class’s attention to the lectern.

***

Seventy-five painstaking minutes of trying

(and failing) 

to pay attention to the powerpoint in front of him instead of the dark-haired girl leaned back in the seat next to him later, the class was dismissed.  The girl had stood, grabbing her bag, and Aang panicked for a moment, trying to think of something to say.  He finally settled on asking if he could walk her to her next class.

She paused, turning her head towards him.  “Well, it’s all the way over in the Humanities building.”

“That’s okay, that’s on the way to my dorm, and I don’t have another class for an hour, anyway.” He swore he saw her smile as she rolled her eyes and said, “Fine.  You can walk with me.” 

They talked the whole way there, never seeming to run out of topics.  He was disappointed at how short the walk felt, having so much more to ask her.  He’d found out she was an architecture major with a lifelong special interest in geology, lived in the freshman dorms by the Physical Sciences lecture hall, and that despite being blind, she was as in-tune with her surroundings as anyone.  It was only after they said their goodbyes that he realized he’d never learned her name.

***

Her name, as it turned out, was Toph.

Every Tuesday and Thursday over the next three weeks, they sat next to each other and Aang walked her to her next class.  He actually found motivation to study his notes for the first time, if only for the fact that the recordings she shared with him featured their conversations in the background of the lecture.  

Once, he had been running late after sleeping through his alarms, and while his first impulse had been to go back to sleep and skip his first class of the day, he bolted out of bed and rushed to get dressed, worrying that someone would take his seat next to Toph.

(or worse, she wouldn’t even notice)

He nearly ran all the way across campus.  Heart pounding, he snuck through the doorway as the professor lectured on and slipped into his usual seat next to Toph.  She lifted her head; something he couldn’t quite place flashed over her face.

(relief?)

“Finally decided to show up, huh?” she whispered.

He started to explain himself, but stopped short, deciding on a better way to embarrass himself.  “Yeah.  I got caught up trying to figure out why you’re so good at this class.” 

“Did you figure it out?” 

“It’s because you don’t take anything for granite.”  He looked over to catch the way the corner of her lips tugged upwards through the taken-aback look on her face.

“That was awful.  Don’t do that again,” she hissed at him.

“Okay, okay,” he conceded, chuckling to himself.  “You know what I would’ve been if I hadn’t shown up today?” 

“What’s that?”

“A skipping stone.” 

The irritated expression she wore intensified, fending off the smile he so desperately wanted to see.  “Seriously, you have got to stop doing that.  I don’t like puns, especially when they’re that bad.” 

“My sediments exactly.”  He almost expected her to hit him, but was delighted to hear a giggle escape.  A warm feeling spread through his chest and he knew then that he would spend every last moment he had for the rest of her life trying to make her laugh again.

***

“You guys!” Aang exclaimed, slamming the door to Sokka’s apartment closed a little harder than he had meant to.  He continued into the living room, all but throwing himself onto the couch next to Katara without so much as a “hello” to her, Sokka, or Suki.  “I had the most amazing date today.” 

Sokka looked up from where he sat, getting his hair braided, between Suki’s legs.  “You had a date?  With who?” 

“Was it that girl from your geology class?” Katara asked. 

“Yes!  Her name is Toph and I finally got her number and we’ve been talking, like, non-stop,” he blurted all at once.

“Slow down!” Katara giggled.  “Are you going to tell us about the date?” 

“Right, so I’ve sat next to her in geology since I’ve been wanting to do better in that class.  That’s been a bad idea as far as paying more attention, but spirits, it’s been the best.  I was almost late this morning because I slept through my alarms.”  Seeing the admonishing look on Katara’s face, he added, “I actually got up as soon as I realized and went to class, don’t worry, Momtara.  Anyway, I got to class just as the prof was starting the powerpoint, and when I first walked in, I was worried someone else might have taken the seat next to her that I’ve been sitting in, but no one had.  And she actually seemed like she was looking for me.  I mean, she can’t see, but still, when I finally got there and sat down, I swear it looked like she was happy to see me.” 

Not leaving room for Sokka to make a disparaging joke, Aang recounted the jokes he’d told her,

(which he definitely stayed up several nights in a row to come up with) 

how she’d acted like she’d hated them, but he’d caught her snickering a few times.  

“So you asked her out after class?” Suki asked.

Aang blushed and ran a hand through his short hair.  “Not exactly.”  He held up his hands in protest of his friends’ exclamations.  “I always walk her to her next class because it’s on the way to my dorm and I always want to keep talking to her.  Well, we get all the way to the Humanities building and she looks at me and says, ‘I don’t really feel like going to this class today.’” 

“She skipped class?” Suki asked with a mock-scandalous tone.  “Maybe you two are meant for each other.” 

“I know!” Aang said, ignoring the jab entirely.  “And, Katara, don’t give me that look.  I would have convinced her to go to class, but the opportunity was there and I couldn’t pass up taking her to lunch.” Grinning, he told them about how Toph had loosened up while they ate, even agreeing to try his favorite vegan restaurant in the main commons, how cute she was when she smiled at him.  She had even agreed to a study date the following night.

He couldn’t wipe the smile from his face when he asked, “So would you guys be okay if she came to hang out with us this weekend?” 

[steppedoffaflight]

Summer’s a Knife - Chapter 4

Catch up on Chapter 3 here

You are all too aware of the hidden dangers of overdoing a pregame session. You’ve made many rookie mistakes in your college days, eager to save a buck at the bar you and your friends were headed to.

With this in mind, you drink slowly. Just enough to help your brain cope with the fact you were socializing with Van’s closest friends before heading to a party where you’d socialize with Bondy’s closest friends. 

or

You follow through on your promise to Van.

Word count: ~9.5k

Chapter Four

April 2019

Thursday and Friday slip by as you go through your usual routine.

You and Van continue to send the occasional text, and when there’s no mention of the party anywhere in your conversations on Friday you allow yourself to feel a shred of hope that maybe Van has decided not to go. Or it’s been cancelled. Or he stopped wanting you to attend. Regardless of the reasoning, it’s wishful thinking.

You’re coming over tomorrow right? Van sends that night when you’re texting him while nestled into bed.

Lou’s house is around here so we’re all gonna meet here and head over there together, he follows up with another message.

This party, as you’d learned, was apparently a birthday party for Bondy’s lifelong best friend, Lou. Hence the requirement that the whole band come to celebrate. According to Van, even Bob- who was ‘the exact opposite of a partier’- was being required to drop by.

Maybe that should be comforting, but the added pressure of the importance of the party only made you more nervous. You’d almost choked on your toast the next morning at Van’s when he’d confessed what this ‘house party’ really was.

Sure, you send back, physically grimacing in the privacy of your own bedroom. What time? 

\\

And the next day you find yourself punching in Van’s gate code, struggling to breathe around the pit in your stomach.

Any semblance of calm you had managed to scrap up on the drive over immediately slips away when you’re greeted by the sight of three other cars all crowded around Van’s in the driveway. Bondy’s vintage mustang is the only other familiar sight, cautiously parked a good distance from the others. 

It takes you a ridiculous amount of time to squeeze your car into an empty piece of driveway, and you’re silently cursing Van the entire time. Why did he not have his garage open? What was he keeping in there? More cars? 

Getting out of the car is a different hassle, trying to avoid being whacked in the head by the bamboo while you teeter on your heels. Then you fuss with your dress, trying to get it to lay right as it clings to your skin. It’s been way too long since you’ve been out on the town with Mary. You’re so out of practice.

You sigh in defeat. The one solid choice you’d managed to make tonight was layering your favorite distressed denim jacket over your dress. You’d done it in fear you’ll look too formal in your dress and heels, but as a breeze floats by it brings some chill with it, breaking your legs out in goosebumps. You pull the denim tighter around you.

You can hear conversation inside before you’ve even knocked, but you’re not able to isolate what they’re talking about. At your first cautious knock, you hear the room fall silent.

“Y/N!”

Bondy’s the one to answer the door, looking happy to see you. He immediately gets one arm around you, pulling you into a polite half hug. The warm welcome eases your nerves.

“Thank God you’re here,” He tells you, while also speaking to the other boys. “Dunno how we were gonna get McCann out the door if you didn’t show up!”

“Fuck you,” Van sneers, raising his middle finger from where he’s seated on the couch in his typical dark button up, dark jeans, and boots. “I’m fucking ready, aren’t I?”

“Down, boy,” Bondy lets his arm drop from where it’d been loosely draped over your shoulders. “Worry not! The lovely Y/N is here now!”

Once you’re released from Bondy’s hold you immediately make your way to the couch, where you realize too late there’s no space next to Van. 

“Budge over, Benj,” Van seems to notice at the same time, poking Benji on the bicep. “You stink.”

Benji smiles politely at you as he obeys, playfully rolling his eyes at Van. You sit down.

“Y/N, Bob, Bob, Y/N,” Van immediately starts introductions. Bob, who’s seated on Van’s other side, gets up from the couch halfway in order to shake your hand. You return the gesture, stunned at the constant manners all of the boys seem to have.

“And Benji, our bassist who stinks,” Van teases, gesturing to where Benji’s come to sit at the short end of the sectional. Benji snorts and offers you a small wave in greeting. 

Van doesn’t offer an introduction to Bondy, and Benji and Bob don’t seem to question it. You wonder how much Van’s told them about your… friendship.

Bondy makes his way back over to everyone, opting not to sit down in the empty space by Benji. He leans his elbow against the mantle of the electric fireplace under the T.V., sipping from a bottle of beer.

Although you find the way Bondy’s watching everyone on the couch a bit uncomfortable, none of the other boys seem phased. Van relaxes into the couch, intertwining his fingers against the back of his neck.

“Enjoying the view?” He teases. 

Bondy shrugs. “Not much to see. Just your ugly mug.”

Van scoffs. “The nerves are getting to you, John,” He admonishes playfully. “Get it together.”

Bondy rolls his eyes, swishes his bottle around.

“He’s planned the whole thing, you see,” Van turns to you. He untucks his hands from behind his head, a warm palm coming to rest on your bare knee as he sits up straighter. “It’s a surprise party. Quite the best mate, he is.”

Bondy doesn’t seem like he’s listening, fixated on his phone. Van starts to stand up.

“Let’s head up to the patio, lads,” He announces, starting to head for the kitchen. He gestures for you to follow with a cock of his head.

“Is the patio out here?” You ask awkwardly once you’re in the kitchen. There’s a set of french doors leading down to the pool, and you open them hesitantly.

“Not that one,” Van says, rifling through some cabinets.

You close the doors, embarrassed. “Oh.”

Before you know what’s happening, Van’s handed you a stack of red plastic cups and a bottle of vodka to nestle into the crook of your arm. His own arms are full with different liquor bottles, and he leads you back to the living room.

“C’mon, boys,” He tells the others, making a beeline for the staircase. It’s a precarious journey in heels and with your hands full, but you eventually make it up to the second floor and out onto the patio you recognize as the one Van joked about sunbathing on. 

It’s got a wonderful view of the city sprawling out below, and considering Van’s home is built on the highest part of the hill his neighborhood rests on there’s no other homes that are eye-level. There’s some outdoor chairs sprinkled around an extinguished fire pit, and two sofas off to the side.

Van uses one of the chairs to prop up the alcohol he’d been carrying, before reaching for the bottle you were holding. The chair isn’t ideal, the bottles sinking into the cushions and clinking together. You hold your breath, prepared for one to roll to the ground and shatter. Van doesn’t seem to worry.

“What do you want?” He asks over his shoulder as the other boys start to meander outside.

He makes you a rum and coke at your request, before concocting something with whiskey for himself. 

“Gotta pregame,” Van says after you two are seated on the sofas. He keeps his voice low, like it’s a secret. “We’ve got over an hour before it’s time for Bondy to get over there. Gotta loosen everyone up or they’ll go mad.”

“Speak for yourself,” You scoff, glancing to make sure everyone else is still distracted making drinks.

Van grins. “I am.” 

And with that he tips his cup back, downing his drink in one go.

\\

You are all too aware of the hidden dangers of overdoing a pregame session. You’ve made many rookie mistakes in your college days, eager to save a buck at the bar you and your friends were headed to.

With this in mind, you drink slowly. Just enough to help your brain cope with the fact you were socializing with Van’s closest friends before heading to a party where you’d socialize with Bondy’s closest friends. 

None of the other boys seem to proceed with the same caution. You’re not sure what Van’s mixing up, but it seems like he’s refilling his cup way too often. Or maybe he’s peeing on the potted plant tucked into the corner, like the other boys had joked. You’d been too nervous to look and see if they were serious, staring into your cup instead.

Bondy keeps his drink full as well, noticeably drunker than he was when you’d first arrived. His nerves seem to have calmed, though, as he shares stories about him and Lou’s childhood adventures. Bob and Benji seem in better spirits, too.

When it’s time to leave, Van orders an Uber, and everyone flocks downstairs. Van holds your hand on the way down to steady you, and it’s the first time tonight that he treats you differently from one of the boys. When you two get to the bottom of the stairs he lets go, and you miss his warm palm against yours instantly.

The Uber ride consists of you being seated between Van and Bob, your body sandwiched awkwardly between them. Bondy sits in front, helping the driver navigate, and after some debate Benji ended up in the third bench, leaving you to take the small middle seat while Van and Bob took either side of you. You’re cursing how short your dress is, your thigh partially uncovered where it’s pressed against Bob’s jeans. Van opted to gaze out the window, his left hand resting just above your knee. It’s a small gesture, but it feels intimate nonetheless. You try to stare straight ahead, unsure if the other boys have noticed.

Thankfully, Van wasn’t lying when he said that Lou’s house was close by. You’re there in no time.

There’s only a few people there when you arrive. Lou is gone, the result of Bondy’s elaborate plot to keep him out of the house all day with the help of some other friends, and the guys that are milling about in the kitchen were apparently the ones in charge of setting up.

“How ya feelin’?” Van asks quietly when you two are alone in the kitchen. The guests are starting to arrive but the party hasn’t started, leaving everyone to lounge around making awkward small talk. You’d been grateful when Van asked you to come make a drink with him.

“Good,” You lie, dispensing a frozen margarita into your cup from a rented machine. “I just can’t understand what anyone’s saying.”

It’s the truth. You hadn’t realized the implications of the fact that Lou and Bondy were British, and therefore their entire friend group was also British. You didn’t understand the slang, or half of what anyone was saying. The best you could do was laugh politely when Van laughed at a joke. In the same way, everyone seemed equally surprised to hear your American accent, even though everyone greeted you warmly and nobody asked how you knew the boys. It was like some weird memo had gone around about you and Van, and it was making you increasingly uneasy. 

Van throws his head back laughing. “I suppose you can’t. I didn’t think about that.”

As he says it, you can hear the front door opening in the other room, more people coming in. 

“Sammy!” Bondy booms. You look to Van, a silent question.

“Sam Fender,” Van explains. “You’ve never heard of him?”

You shake your head.

“Aw, he’s class. Real funny lad. Amazing voice.”

As he’s speaking, someone enters the kitchen, sneakers squeaking on the floor.

“Van!” Another variation of a British accent calls, and when Van spins around he breaks out into a grin.

“Ah, Sam! How’ve you been?”

Sam sidles up to the empty counter space next to Van. He drums his palms on the marble, beaming at him.

“I’m excellent, mate. Did you hear about Polydor?” As he speaks he reaches for a cup, starting to make himself a drink.

Van nods. “From Bond, yeah.”

“They want me to do a fall release. Finally gonna get this fucking debut out.”

Van seems genuinely enthused at this news that you don’t understand. “That’s fucking amazing! Hypersonic Missiles, that’s a proper tune. Great single.”

“Ah, shut the hell up,” Sam jokes. He’s all ruffled sandy brown hair, blue eyes, and a sharp face, not unlike Van. He’s dressed down in a crewneck, tattered blue jeans and sneakers, but he doesn’t look out of place. Somehow it works for him.

You let out a laugh at how deadpan he tells Van to shut up. 

“I’m so sorry love, I got so caught up. Johnny said Van was in the kitchen and everyone knows I properly fancy this one.” He cocks his thumb at Van as he strays from the counter, making his way over to you. “I’m Sam.”

“Y/N,” You greet him. He immediately wraps you up in a warm hug, kissing your cheek quickly.

“You Van’s mate?” He asks. He doesn’t look to Van for an introduction, only focused on you. It’s immediately refreshing that someone even cares how you ended up being invited.

“Yeah,” You tell him. 

“Ah, you’re lucky. Been trying to be Van’s mate for years, I have. He fucking hates me. I annoy the shit out of him.” He delivers this information matter-of-fact, paying no attention to Van’s snort of amusement next to you.

“I don’t see how,” You say, relieved to finally be around someone where conversation comes easily. “You’re hilarious.”

“No way,” Sam scoffs. “Stop lyin’, love.” 

He claps a hand on your shoulder. “I gotta go do the rounds, say hi. If you see me around don’t be shy. I’ve got loads of stories about this one.”

“Okay,” You nod, “I’ll see you around.”

“Also, dunno how you’re balancing on those things,” Sam gestures to your heels, “But you look incredible. Cheers.”

“Thank you,” You say, looking down at your heels. “They’re starting to hurt, though. Rather be wearing those.” You nod to his scuffed shoes.

“Say the word and I’ll trade,” Sam laughs. 

You grin. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

With a quick promise to catch up with Van later Sam grabs his drink and shuffles out of the kitchen, his happy-go-lucky energy still lingering.

\\

The actual surprise goes off without a hitch. Lou is thrilled at the reveal, pulling Bondy and the other friends responsible into a giant, happy hug. Once he’s arrived the party really gets started, music booming from the sound system installed throughout his home. And in typical L.A. fashion, once people start posting about the party the guests never stop arriving. Soon the house is packed with more friends-of-friends trying to flaunt on their social media that they’re at a ‘celebrity birthday party’ than actual friends of Lou. You feel like you vaguely recognize every single girl that arrives from your instagram feed. 

For most of the party you successfully stick with Van. He brushes random people off with a practiced and charming ease, socializing almost exclusively with other members of indie bands. In a very eloquent routine you’re introduced to the friends, you laugh along with their jokes even if you still can’t decipher them, and then at the perfect moment Van excuses you both to get new drinks.

He’s just excused you two when the guy he’d been talking to leans forward. It looks like he’s going in for a hug, the way he presses a palm to Van’s back and brings his face in close to his ear. There’s a sudden change in tone to the conversation that has you on edge, but he’s speaking too quietly to Van for you to hear.

When the guy pulls back, he procures a plastic bag from the pocket of his jeans. There’s an amount of cocaine in it that makes your eyes widen. He flashes it to Van.

“Oh, I appreciate that,” Van says with his usual charm. “But I’m good, thanks.”

“You sure?” The friend asks. “Not even a bump?”

“Nah, that’s alright,” Van claps a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “But thank you, thank you.”

You marvel at how he manages to turn down cocaine with the charisma and gratitude of a grandchild who has to politely turn down their grandmother’s offer of cash.

Suddenly the bag is flashed at you.

“Oh, none for me, thanks,” You say awkwardly, and with that Van uses an arm slung across your shoulder to guide you to the kitchen.

 In the kitchen you two refill your cups, and cheers over a shot of tequila for good measure.

You’ve just downed your shot, viciously sinking your teeth into the flesh of your lime in the futile hope it’ll neutralize the burn, when you see Van’s attention being caught by someone in the front room. 

“I’ll be right back,” He tells you hurriedly, abandoning his bitten lime wedge on the counter before rushing off. Desperate for the flavor you grab it, sucking whatever juice is left.

You toss the rinds in the overflowing trash can, and refill your cup with the margarita flavor you’ve been obsessed with, and Van still hasn’t returned. 

Standing alone at a party looking lost is instantly a magnet for creeps, so you get your phone out of the pocket of your jacket, checking for any notifications. There are none, considering you’ve been checking your phone quite often, but that doesn’t stop you from opening up social media and taking a quick scroll to look busy. Unfortunately, that’s still not enough.

You sense the guy before he actually speaks to you. He’s busy preparing himself a drink and grabbing an appetizer, but you can feel him hovering. It’s only a matter of minutes before he materializes in front of you.

“Hey,” he greets.

You don’t bother to look at him until you’ve locked your phone and slipped it into your pocket, hoping he’d sense your disinterest. But he’s still smiling when you meet his gaze. 

“Hi,” You smile politely. 

He’s got blonde hair, although it’s obviously not his natural color by the black roots growing in. His eyes flit around, and you try to decipher if that’s from drugs.

“Haven’t seen you around before,” The guy says. He introduces himself, but you forget his name the instant you’ve heard it. He awkwardly pops the appetizer he’s holding into his mouth, offering to shake your hand with the fingers that had just been holding some sort of greasy, bacon-wrapped thing. You unhappily oblige, volunteering your name.

“So,” You start, forcing a smile. “You’re a friend of Lou’s?”

You’re almost positive this isn’t the case, judging by the American accent. It gives you a sick twist of satisfaction to catch him in his lie when you see the confusion on his face.

“Who?” He asks.

“Lou,” You clarify, your smile stretching into a grin. “The birthday boy?”

To his credit, the guy recovers quickly. “Oh, Louis,” he laughs, pronouncing the s. “We go way back. Yeah, I’ve just never called him that. All his close friends call him Louis.”

You raise your eyebrows, nodding along as if you’re impressed. “Oh, cool.”

“Yeah,” He murmurs.

At this point you’re done socializing, confused whether this was an attempt to flirt with you or some sort of practice run to see how well he could compulsively lie. 

“Always nice to meet Lou’s friends.” You shift your weight off of where you’re leaning against the counter, side-stepping him politely. “Anyway, I’m gonna head to the bathroom.”

“Oh, the one down here is clogged,” The stranger says hurriedly, taking a step to follow you. 

You didn’t know where the bathroom actually was. You were hoping you’d find Van or Bondy and they’d be able to provide directions. But the margaritas are catching up with your bladder, and you falter.

“But there’s one upstairs,” He says. “I can show you, if you like?”

You wouldn’t like, but the more you think about bathrooms the more you really have to pee. And this guy was probably telling another lie, but if you risked calling his bluff you also risked looking stupid.

“Sure!” You try to sound cheerful and appreciative even though you’re practically gritting your teeth.

You let him step in front of you, following his lead. You walk significantly slower than him, almost losing him in the clusters of guests as you scan the house for Van.

“Hey!” 

You almost bump into him as you crane your neck to peer down one of the halls you’re walking past.

“Sorry, I’m so slow in these heels,” You lie, still glancing around.

“Oh, no problem,” The guy laughs and offers you his arm. “We’re about to head up these steps, so you better hold on tight!”

There’s a perfectly good railing for the staircase, but there’s no point resisting. You grab his arm, using the extra height from the stairs to try and look around. Still no luck.

Somehow, this obviously-not-a-friend-of-Lou’s knows where the bathroom is. But to your dismay, he waits outside in the hall while you use it.

You snatch your phone from your pocket as soon as you’re seated on the toilet. Where did you go? You send to Van. Even after you’re done peeing you stall, praying desperately for a response.

Nothing.

There’s a soft knock at the bathroom door.

“Everything okay in there?” The guy asks.

You rest your elbows on your knees, burying your face in your hands and savoring your last moment of privacy.

“Yeah,” You say, before you’ve got to stand up, shimmy your underwear back up, wash your hands, and head back out. 

He looks relieved to see you, which is the exact opposite of how you feel.

Conversation has run out, you two awkwardly standing together in the hallway. You’re forced even closer to each other when a group of people need space to pass by.

Unnecessarily, he puts a hand on your waist, as if you needed direction to take one step closer to the wall. Even after the people have passed he doesn’t move it away.

He opens his mouth to speak, and the feeling of dread you’ve been warding off hits you full force. Here he goes, inevitably amping up his flirting. There’s nobody to save you. You two are alone in your own personal hell of a hallway.

He closes his mouth, as if he’s looking for the right words to say. You peer over his shoulder at the smaller living area the group had been headed to. 

“You know-” He starts, voice suddenly serious as if you two were in some sort of rom-com.

But you never get to hear the rest of his sentence, because by some twist of fate you hear a booming laugh, and see a wavy mop of sandy hair flash past the entrance of the living room in the exact same moment.

“Sam!” You shout, startling both yourself and the stranger with your boldness. In his shock he drops the hand from your waist, and you practically run down the hall to the entrance of the living room.

The narrow hallway opens into a room about the same size as the front room downstairs. It’s as impeccably furnished as the rest of the house, but less tightly packed, people no doubt heading up here for some breathing room.

Sam is standing right inside of the doorway, head cocked. When he sees you he bursts into laughter.

“I thought I was going crazy!” He laughs. “I turned to them like, did someone call me?”

The friends he’s referring to are packed on a loveseat with no space left for anyone else. 

“I’m so glad you found me,” Sam says, and it feels genuine. “This is Van’s mate, Y/N,” He explains to the friends on the couch. You step into the room fully, aware of the presence of the stranger behind you. 

“We’ve got Dean, Drew, Joe…” Sam prattles their names off, and you exchange hellos with everyone. 

“Have you seen Van anywhere?” You ask them, scanning the room for him. There’s a soft chorus of ‘no’s from Sam and his friends.

“He’ll be around,” Sam assures you, sipping his drink. “Are you with Y/N?” He asks the guy behind you. You’d been intent on keeping him awkwardly trapped in the hallway until he got the hint you weren’t interested, but you’ve got to move aside and let him into the room as Sam greets him.

“Just helping her out,” The guy laughs. “I’m Jason,” He tells Sam.

Sam sits down on the coffee table in front of the loveseat, and you do the same. This leaves Jason with no place to sit, awkwardly standing next to you.

You squint at a large oil painting hanging above the loveseat. “That looks just like Bondy!”

Sam cackles. Dean, Drew, and Joe contort their bodies to see what you’re talking about. It’s some sort of medieval renaissance scene, the two subjects of the painting holding up drinks as if they’re about to have a toast. The one that looks like Bondy has some sort of fiddle in his other hand, and is dressed in some sort of extravagant, puffy-sleeved shirt. The other subject, which looks uncannily like Lou now that you look, is dressed in some sort of dark cloak and also holding what could be another instrument, but you don’t recognize it. The resemblance is so strange that you actually stand up, leaning over to examine it more closely.

“Johnny had it commissioned,” Sam explains. “It was a Christmas gift.”

You and the other boys continue to admire it, shocked at the details. 

“That’s insane,” You murmur, sitting back down.

“That does look just like Johnny!” Jason pipes up. You notice Dean trying to make questioning eye contact with you, and roll your eyes in hopes someone understands you’re near him involuntarily. Nobody responds to him.

Sam takes your separation from Van as an opportunity to launch into his promised stories, all of the boys pitching in as he talks all things Newcastle, Bondy and Lou, and Catfish dressing room shenanigans. For the first time that night time flies as you laugh along with them. Eventually Jason murmurs some half-hearted excuse to leave, obviously disappointed he didn’t get you alone again. You feel mildly guilty for the way you’d shaken him off, but the relief is worth it. Once he’s gone you even tell the guys how you’d ended up stuck with him.

“Aw, I wish you would’ve said something,” Sam groans. “I could’ve pretended to be your boyfriend.”

“I wish you would’ve,” You sigh. “Anything to get him off my back.”

“He would’ve known it was fake,” Sam declares. “You? With this mug?” He points to himself. “He’d have taken one look and known.”

You roll your eyes as the boys laugh along with Sam. “Oh quit,” You scold him.

“You’re absolutely right,” Drew indulges in Sam’s joke.

You roll your eyes again. Apparently arguing against his self-deprecating jokes were futile. You suddenly remember the text you’d sent to Van, and tug your phone out of your pocket for the first time since your bathroom break. Still no response.

You fall silent, letting the conversation flow around you. Looking at the time on your phone made you realize how long it’d been since you’d had a moment to yourself. The longer you thought about it, the more you were itching for some fresh air.

“Does anyone have a cigarette?” You interject when there’s a quick beat of silence.

Sam doesn’t even search his pockets. Joe procures a box and a lighter, offering them to you.

“Oh, thank you,” You say, reaching to pluck one out of the box. You pocket it with the lighter. “I’m gonna go get some air.”

As you go to stand up you’re even more aware of the throbbing in your feet. You’d been in these heels for hours. 

“I’m fucking tired of these,” You mutter, sitting down again to undo the ankle strap on them. “I’m taking these off.”

“You ready to trade?” Sam quips, immediately starting to undo his laces.

“You don’t have to, really. I’ll go barefoot.”

“No way,” Sam scoffs. “Take ‘em.”

He’s insistent, determined to have you wear them no matter how politely you decline. Eventually you give in, sliding your feet into them and sighing in relief at the more comfortable fit.

Sam’s feet are significantly bigger than yours, so you lace them tight in an attempt to keep them from slipping off. You stand up, trying them out. There’s too much space around your toes, but as long as you’re careful you don’t think it’ll be an issue. It feels nice to be able to distribute weight evenly across the soles of your feet again. 

“I’ll be right back,” You promise Sam, who suddenly stands up.

“I’ll go with ya,” He volunteers. “Need some air, too.”

You point at his feet. “You’re only in socks!”

He shrugs you off. “Ah, I don’t care. My feet are warm enough. Been sweating in those all night.” He cackles when you scrunch your nose in disgust.

Sam leads the way down to the back deck, veering off to a small set of steps on the side so you aren’t in anyone’s way. You sit down on the cold wood, Sam joining you as you immediately light your borrowed cigarette. 

“You don’t smoke?” You ask.

“Nah. Bad for the lungs. Need all the help I can get for my shit voice.”

“Van says you have an amazing voice,” You tell him. You wish you’d ever heard one of his songs so you could speak from your own experience. 

“Aw, did he? That’s real nice of him to lie,” Sam chuckles.

You shake your head and say nothing.

“How’d you meet him?” Sam asks.

You chew over the story in your mind, trying to edit out the bits you were afraid of being judged for.

“My friend’s boyfriend ran into him on a smoke break. None of us knew who Catfish was, but they had just played the House of Blues that night and we were staying at the same hotel as them. So he just became part of our group for the night and got drinks with us.” It sounds strange saying it out loud, realizing how many coincidences united into one encounter.

“And, I dunno,” You shrug. “He texted me when he was back in L.A.” That part sounds openly like a booty call. You hope Sam doesn’t see the truth of it. 

He falls silent for a moment. “And you’re mates?” He asks tentatively.

You give another shrug. “Yeah.”

“They’re good guys,” Sam adds quietly. “They’ve all got their head screwed on right.”

“I know,” You widen your eyes in disbelief. “I’ve never met a group of such polite guys! You too!” You exhale your cigarette smoke, shaking your head. “No offense, but I fucking hate men.”

“They’re the worst,” Sam chimes in good-naturedly. “Like that Jason character.”

“He was such a creep!” You groan, and with that you and Sam and rehashing the entire encounter again until you’re laughing so hard the last half of your cigarette burns away, forgotten.

By the time you catch your breath your vision is blurry with tears from the laughter. As you wipe them away, you hear the grass crunch in front of you.

“Hey,” a familiar voice says, and you look up in surprise.

“Where did you go?” Is the first thing you say to Van, who’s towering over where you’re sitting on the steps. 

It’s dark outside, but the light color of his eyes makes it easy to see how bloodshot they are. He reeks of weed. 

“I went back to the kitchen and you weren’t there!”

“I waited for you!” You insist, standing up. “Then this creep came along and the toilet was broken downstairs and I dunno, it’s a whole thing.” Mentioning Jason again has you stifling a giggle. Sam snorts.

“This creep?” Van gestures to the steps. “Sam?”

At his confusion you and Sam lose it again.

“No!” You try to explain through your laughter. “No, not Sam. Someone totally different.”

Van only stares at you, clearly confused. 

“Help me up,” Sam says suddenly from the stairs. You reach over, offering him your hands. Once he’s standing you see Van notice his socks.

“Lost your shoes?” He asks Sam. 

“Nah, lent them to this one.” Sam claps a hand on your back. You watch Van realize you’re no longer in your heels. 

“Christ, where are your shoes? How much have you had to drink?” He sighs.

“Um, like, nothing,” You retort. It’s not the truth, but Van’s tone leaves you defensive. “They were just getting uncomfortable.”

“I’m gonna head back upstairs,” Sam tells you, looking uneasy. That only makes you more irritated with Van. 

“Here, take these back,” You say, untying his sneakers. “I’ll come get mine in a minute.”

“Nah, keep ‘em,” Sam waves you off. “Well don’t like, keep them, they’re my favorite. Just give me them when you come get yours.”

“We’ll be up,” Van says, repeating exactly what you just told Sam. It ignites your irritation again. “I wanna say hi to the lads.”

“Alright. You better.” Sam’s tone is low in a mock-warning, and he heads back inside. 

Van sits down on the steps in Sam’s spot, lighting a cigarette. You sit next to him, leaving as much space as you can between your bodies.

As soon as you hear Sam slide the patio door shut you turn to Van. “What’s your fucking problem?”

Van exhales his smoke. “Problem? Don’t have a problem.”

“Yes you fucking do,” You spit. “You’re in a bad mood.”

“Sounds like you’re in a bad mood,” Van replies.

You bury your head in your hands and grind your teeth.

“Asking me how much I drank, like you didn’t just leave me alone for over an hour. Wasn’t the whole point of me coming so that we stuck together?”

“I had to say hi to one of my mates. He’s almost never in L.A. I said I went back to the kitchen and you weren’t there!”

“I waited! Some weirdo started hitting on me!” A breeze blows the scent of weed right into your nose. “And what do you mean you only said hi? You’re stoned!”

“Yeah, I said hi and he wanted to smoke a blunt real quick!”

You scoff. “And you didn’t think to invite me? You’re rude. Had you even considered maybe I would also like to get high?”

Van falls silent. 

Honestly, you didn’t really care that he had smoked without you. But your frustration with him had you searching for any soft spots in his words that you could sink an argument into, and you took the first opening. His silence gives you the all-consuming satisfaction of having the upper hand. 

“Right. I should’ve come and got you. Sorry.” He says quietly.

His apology eases your agitation. You don’t really know why you’re arguing in the first place, but now you’re ready to let it go.

“Thank God Sam was there to save the day,” Van huffs, obviously not receiving your telepathy that the argument was over. 

At the mention of Sam the realization clicks into place.

“Oh my God,” You practically laugh, “Is this about Sam?”

“What d’ya mean? I don’t have a bone to pick with Sam. We’re mates.”

Even his deflection sounds sour. You roll your eyes.

“Wow,” You muse to the night sky. “This is a side of you I’ve yet to see in our brief friendship.”

Van snorts. “Would love to know what you’re on about.”

“Oh nothing,” You sing-song, “Just the jealousy oozing off of you.”

“As if.”

“Are you always like this?” You press on, turning to face him. “Because I’m not gonna hang out with some possessive weirdo.”

At your ultimatum Van sighs, rolling his eyes. “No, but… Why are you in his shoes? And you sure looked like you were looking for me, laughing your arse off with him.”

“I knew it, I knew it,” You chant happily, poking at Van’s side. “Van McCann’s got a jealous streak, I knew it!”

“Aw, quit.” He blows smoke in your face in retaliation. “I’m not jealous. You’re just easy to fancy. You said so yourself you had a lad all over you.”

“Nobody fancies me,” You scoff, trying out Van’s slang. The conversation reminds you too much of any time you’re in public with Mary. “If they do they haven’t been saying anything, I’ve been single for way too long.”

Van nods in agreement as he’s hitting his cigarette. “Same.”

“Plus, didn’t you tell everyone about us?”

Van startles at that. “What? That we...” He gestures between you two.

“Um, yeah,” You reply. “Nobody’s even asked who I was!”

“Because what’s it to them? If I say we’re mates, we’re mates. No I didn’t like, send out a big mass text telling everyone your business. Fuck no.”

“What about the boys? They didn’t even question you having some random girl around?”

“Well, I told Bond how we met because you hung out with us. They know if something’s important I’ll tell them so they don’t really ask.”

“Oh.” You process this information. “Alright.”

“You ready to head back to mine?” Van asks suddenly. “I’m ready to call it a fucking night.”

You look around the backyard. The crowd was visibly starting to thin, but with the social media buzz you knew people would continue to show up until sunrise. You felt bad for Bondy and the friend group that were in charge of playing host.

“Me too,” You tell Van.

The waiting time for the Uber gives you two just enough time to have one more shot, prepare one more drink, and challenge each other to finish it while Van talked with Sam and company and you got your shoes back. 

You don’t even bother to put them on, lacing your fingers through the straps and letting them dangle from your hand. When Van gets the notification for the Uber you two practically bolt for the door, none of the other boys anywhere to be found for goodbyes. Once you’re in the car, doors shut, you two breathe a collective sigh of relief.

The peace and quiet of the car makes it apparent you two are definitely drunker than you’d thought. Van struggles to direct the driver, who seems instantly annoyed with you guys. Once he understands the destination he cuts Van off, silencing him. He curses under his breath at stoplights, traffic- any minor inconvenience, really. You and Van stifle giggles in the backseat. You’re in your own bubbly world, and feel sorry for everyone else. 

“There’s a gate!” The driver barks when he suddenly pulls up to Van’s place.

“Yeah,” Van says slowly. He recites the code with practiced ease. But when the driver tries, it doesn’t work. You try to sort through the numbers in your mind, wondering if maybe Van had given the wrong code.

Van’s eyebrows unfurrow suddenly in realization. “It sticks,” he tells the driver, his words slurring only slightly. He sits up straighter, tugging at his shirt where it’d bunched up. “It sticks,” He repeats, quietly, as if he’s talking to you. 

“The eight,” He clarifies a moment later, but the driver’s already gotten the code in, muttering to himself in frustration in the front seat. You look over at Van as the driver mutters on about you two. Van widens his eyes at you in amused disbelief, a silent what’s wrong with this guy? that has you biting your cheek to stifle another giggle. 

The car lurches up to Van’s front door, too fast for your liking considering everyone’s cars are peppered in front of the garage. The front bumper of the Uber is only feet away from scuffing Van’s Range Rover. You two clamor out, you barely making it behind the rear of the car and over to Van before the SUV reverses in a tight turnaround that almost takes out a chunk of the privacy bamboo before zooming back towards the gate. You two stand in silent disbelief as the driver has to remain awkwardly stopped as the gate reopens, slow as can be.

Once he’s accelerated away, you and Van look at each other. You two immediately burst out laughing.

“I didn’t think we were that bad!” You exclaim. You grab Van’s arm for some extra stability, but he’s wobbly too, grabbing you in return. You two lean against each other, heaving for air, your laughter echoing around the silent homes.

“Why was he so fucking pissed?” Van spits out, keeling over. “Because the eight on my keypad is fucked?”

“I guess so!” You wipe the tears from your eyes. “God, he hated us!”

“Wanted us dead,” Van agrees.

You two support each other on your way up the front steps to the door, where Van fiddles with the key for way too long.

“C’mon,” You groan, leaning against the siding.

“Ah, shit,” Van says after a long moment of concentration. “That was my car key.”

The laughter between you two bubbles up again. You’re both light on your feet as you finally make it through the door, leaving your shoes in a lumpy heap on the mat and shedding your jackets.

“I need some water,” You blurt out as Van heads for the stairs. “I don’t wanna be hungover.”

“Too late for that,” Van beams, his hair falling into his face. He tucks it behind his ear. “We’re properly fucked. Might as well not even bother, it’ll just make you piss.”

He’s right. You follow him up the stairs instead.

In typical fashion, you wait for him to light a cigarette as soon as he gets into the bedroom. You shed your clothes, relieved to peel the skin-tight fabric away, and immediately grope for the t-shirt you’d packed. It’s your favorite shirt to wear to bed, especially after nights out. You’d thrifted it years ago, and wore it so religiously even Mary teased you about it.

Van’s disappeared to the bathroom, but as soon as he reenters the room he notices your wardrobe change. He nods to the shirt.

“Have you ever been?”

“To Las Vegas?” You’re surprised he could even read the name of the city. The front of the shirt was covered in a huge cluster of landmarks and portraits of neon signs. The colors had probably been vivid at one point, but were extremely faded by now. “No way. Have you?”

“I have,” Van tells you, patting his bed, most likely looking for his phone. “It’s a grand fucking time. Especially when you’ve got some cash to blow.”

“No shit,” You snort. “That’s why I’ve never been!”

Van snorts in response.

“Have you seen my cigs?” He asks finally.

“Not since you had one at the party.”

“Ah, fuck,” Van huffs. “I probably left them in the Uber. My last pack.” He buries his face in his hands, a moment of mournful silence. 

“Do you think anyone left some on the patio?” You suggest. Van perks up at that.

“Maybe I left my other box,” He stands up. “Come with me to check.”

“No,” You whine, hugging your arms around yourself. You can already feel a phantom shiver working its way down your spine. “It’s cold outside!”

“I’ll make us another drink. That’ll keep us warm.”

He gestures to the closet door behind you. “Grab a jumper.”

You fish through the clothes hanging up before finding a sweatshirt that you consider suitable. It’s a plain gray one, thicker than the others, soft fleece on the inside. You pull it over your shirt. Considering your shirt is about two sizes too big and falls mid-thigh, it sticks out awkwardly underneath the gray hem. You’re too drunk to worry about how you look. You follow him back up to the patio.

To Van’s relief, there’s an almost-full pack of his cigarettes wedged between the cushions where he was sitting. He mixes up two vodka cranberries with a cigarette already dangling from his lips. 

“Ew,” You scrunch your nose up when he hands you your cup. 

“Sorry,” He shrugs, pulling the cigarette away from his lips to exhale a cloud of smoke into the dark sky. “S’all we’ve got.”

You really don’t need another drink. Objectively, you know this. You know Van was right, and you’re already looking at a nasty hangover tomorrow. But knowing what’s coming next doesn’t stop you. It just makes you more eager to draw tonight out. 

You let the vodka light your throat on fire and simmer in your stomach.

There’s silence while Van puffs through his first cigarette quickly, eager to take the edge off of his craving. You should probably sit down on one of the sofas, but something draws you to the cement. You sit down so you can lean your neck back, your head cradled by the seat of the sofa while you stare up at the sky.

There’s no stars out, the light pollution too heavy. You lift your head off of the cushions, opting to peer out into the distance. You can barely see the lights of the city glimmering over the brick wall from your angle.

Van doesn’t question your seating choice. Instead, he plops down next to you. You listen to his even breathing, watch his smoke waft past your face. 

You hear the plastic of his cigarette box crinkle as he goes for another. 

“Want one?” He offers, and you nod, offer him your first two fingers. He props a cigarette between them good-naturedly. You bring it to your lips, and he lights it for you. 

Your legs are cold against the cement. You tuck them under your borrowed sweatshirt into a cocoon of warmth and take another long sip of your drink for good measure.

“Have you ever done cocaine?” You ask suddenly. You’re not even looking at Van, still drunkenly transfixed at the skyline.

There’s the click of his lighter before he answers. “Yeah. couple’a times.”

“Did you like it?”

“I did,” He nods somberly. “But I’m fucking unbearble on it. Ask Bond.”

“You did it with Bondy?”

“Yeah.” He punctuates his word with a drag of his cigarette. “I’m already hyper, don’t sleep much, ya know. But on coke I’m proper wired. Bouncing off the walls. I’ll sit there with my guitar and write like twenty songs. The worst part is I think they’re fucking amazing, I’m just blasting my guitar playing them for everyone and I’d wake up the next morning and they were absolute shit.”

You chuckle, looking over at him. He’s grinning back at you.

“And I think I’m hot shit.” He laughs. “I forget I’m fucking ugly.”

“You’re not ugly,” You bump against his shoulder with your own, swaying your bodies slightly. 

“Aw, stop,” Van huffs. “I didn’t get signed on the label for being a looker, that’s for sure.”

You bump his shoulder again. He takes a sip of his drink.

“It was back when we got signed, finally started making some money. I steer away from it, though. I didn’t sleep for two days one time and then immediately had to do a gig. It was awful. Sounded awful, I looked awful. Bondy had done it too so he sounded shit, it was a mess. I don’t wanna fuck up like that. I love gigs.”

You hum in understanding. 

“What about you, huh? Ever snort a nice line?” Van teases.

“Yeah. My ex-girlfriend roped me into it.”

“Right,” Van nods. “The cocaine addict.”

“Yup.” You pop the p sound. “I mean, it’s fun?” You shrug like it’s a question. “But the comedown…”

“The comedown,” Van nods along, a shared moment of silence for the awful experience. 

“And it’s so expensive. The comedown mixed with the, oh shit, I don’t have enough for rent now. That’s a real crash.”

The rim of Van’s plastic cup hovers in your peripheral vision.

“Here’s to no-fucking-thanks,” He proclaims, and you two cheers your drinks together. 

“Like you did tonight,” You mention.

“Ah, yeah. It’s not hard. Especially with you. Try not to make an absolute joke of myself in front of you.”

“Aw,” You tease, poking him on the shoulder. “Why’s that?”

“You’d never get into bed with me again,” Van snorts. “Dunno why you even do as it is.”

“Oh, stop,” You shush him. You feel like you’ve got more to say, but the thoughts in your head are too blurry to put a finger on one, let alone speak it. Silence passes over you two instead. You listen to the distant sound of cars honking in early morning traffic.

“Glad he didn’t offer me molly, though,” Van says quietly. “Probably would’ve taken him up on it.”

Your cigarette is burnt down. You throw it down on the cement.

“Molly, huh?” You squint at him. “Is that the same as ecstacy?”

“Yeah. Think so.” He nods to your cigarette butt. “Want another?”

You shake your head. You’d been social smoking a lot more often now that you’d been hanging around Van. If you didn’t watch yourself you’d be hooked in no time.

Van ashes out his cigarette on the cement and immediately reaches for another. He ends up sitting closer to you, his body warm where it’s pressed against your side.

You yawn. “Why molly?”

“You’ve never done it, have you?”

You look over at him, his silhouette lit from the outdoor lantern glowing by the patio door. “How’d you know?”

“Because it’s fucking class,” Van explains. “It’s the best high ever. It’s like, you couldn’t get any happier than that moment. You feel like you’re fucking glowing. And in love with everything. I could serenade a blade of fucking grass.”

You laugh at that.

His confession slips out easily with the help of the alcohol: “I’ve always wanted to have sex on it.” 

You immediately perk up, listening more intently. But he doesn’t follow up with any explanation.

You try to gently nudge the fantasy out of him. “Why?” 

Van rolls his neck. “Feels like you’re on the verge anyway. Someone brushes your arm and you break out in chills, that kinda thing. Even taking a piss is like, holy shit.”

“Ooh,” You singsong. You turn towards him while you tease him, lightly digging your fingers into his side. “You’re kinky!”

Van lurches, laughing. “How is that kinky? Something feeling good is kinky?”

“I think getting high solely for the purpose of having sex is kinky.” You stop tickling him, laughing along with him while he catches his breath.

“I don’t think so,” Van shakes his head.

“Nothing wrong with it,” You tease. Van shakes his head in exasperation again. “Everyone’s got one, right?”

His eyebrows raise. “Everyone does not have one.”

“Are you saying you don’t?”

Van sips his drink. “No, m’not. I’m saying there’s definitely some couples out there that turn all the lights out once a week and get under the covers and do it doggy style.”

“Doggy style is kinda kinky,” You shrug.

Van screws his face up in obvious disagreement. “It’s not. It’s lame.”

You reflect on your limited experience with the position and sigh. “It is.”

The silence that follows your agreement is a touch stifling. You swish what’s left of your vodka cranberry around your cup and try not to think of Van fucking someone from behind. You wonder if he’s doing the same for you.

“So what’s yours, then?” You ask suddenly, eager to break the silence.

Van snorts. “Shut up.”

“Oh, come on,” You groan. “I’m so drunk and exhausted I might not even remember this. Might as well confess.”

“It is late…” Van trails off, clicking his phone on. “We should get to bed.”

“You’re lame,” You pout. “I have sex with you, don’t I? Who deserves to know more than me?”

It’s a bold proclamation, and one you’d never make sober. And considering the way the vodka was making you pout like a child, Van was right about needing to call it a night. But your curiosity was too strong to be censored.

Van eyes you wearily. Then he sighs. He’d been on the verge of standing up, his body tense against yours, but you feel him melt back into his sitting position, looking up at the sky. After a quiet moment of contemplation he downs his drink and tosses the cup away from him. The plastic echoes as it skitters across the pavement.

“It’s nothing crazy,” He shrugs. It’s like he hits a lightswitch inside of himself, from nerves to the easy-going confidence you’re used to. “I just like to be… pushed around a bit, ya know? Not, like, whipped or anything mad. It’s just nice when someone gives it right back to me.”

You’re speechless for a brief moment, stunned that he actually confessed. The cup skitters and jolts you out of your haze.

“Uh…” You start. “How so?”

Van looks confused.

You clear your throat. “How should one go about… pushing you around?”

“Christ,” Van rolls his eyes. “M’not asking you to do it. Don’t worry.”

You can see the way he prickles, gets defensive. 

“But if I wanted to,” You press, rotating your body towards him, trying to convey your interest. “If I wanted to, how would I?”

Van licks his lips. “You’d get your hands on me. Guide me if I’m not getting it right. I dunno.”

You can see the doubt flicker across his face. The shadow of regret he’ll probably experience tomorrow morning when he remembers this conversation. You wrack your brain for something to say to reassure him. 

“Okay.” You untuck your legs from their warm shelter under Van’s sweatshirt and sit upright. 

“I can do that,” You tell Van, who’s watching you with brows furrowed in confusion. You clamor onto your knees, the rough cement digging into your skin. “I can do that.”

You sling your leg over Van’s lap, seating yourself on top of him. He looks startled, his hands immediately going for your waist to hold you steady.

You get a hand on either side of his face. It’s of utmost importance that he looks at you. But once you’ve got his full attention you get lost in the view; his eyes bloodshot from the alcohol and weed and late night, his hair disheveled from the breeze and running his hands through it so much, his lips that are so chapped they look close to cracking. You get focused again, meeting his gaze.

“I can do that,” You repeat, before leaning in to kiss him. 

Van doesn’t miss a beat, pressing his lips against yours. You try to convey a message of urgency, desperate to make him understand that he can trust you. Van returns your message with one of equal passion. 

You can feel his urgency in the line of his jaw, tense while he leads the kiss, deepening it. You love feeling him this way, needy and forever bold enough to do something about it. You can taste the vodka on your tongues and smell it on his breath when he pulls away. You reconnect your lips with his, not ready to let him go. He only lets you keep things going for a moment before he pulls away, truly out of breath.

You shift your weight back, expanding the space between you. He blinks back at you with tired, hooded eyes, his chest heaving. Before you fully realize what he’s doing he’s got a hand cradling the back of your head, hauling you in for another messy kiss. 

The spark fizzles out eventually, alcohol and the early hour making you two sluggish. The kisses get sloppier and slower until things finally come to a standstill, the two of you catching your breath as you notice the sun breaking over the horizon.

Van’s the first to yawn, stretching his arms up above him. You get off of his lap, your knees scraped and aching. There’s no words between you two as Van hauls himself up from the ground, then you, and you two head back inside. 

Van doesn’t even bother locking the door behind him, and you’re too tired to take your contacts out.

\\

Read Chapter 5 here

[thezodiaczone]

Capricorn Compatibility

CAPRICORN + ARIES (MARCH 21 - APRIL 19) Aries is the Alpha in most relationships, but here the Ram meets his match. In the Goat, Aries finds a more seasoned pack leader, and backs into a rare state of obedience. This weighty respect comes from Capricorn's ruler, wise old Saturn, the planet of maturity, authority and command. Capricorn is the zodiac's father sign; Aries is its firstborn child. It's the difference between a king and a knight, a queen and a duchess. Both are noble, but one is clearly the elder. This can be a dealbreaker for Aries in some cases, as too much paternalism makes this independent sign run for freedom. However, it usually works. Although Aries can be a hellish brat, Capricorn is unruffled and even amused by the tantrums, giving Aries space to act out. If you accept your cosmic roles, you can make excellent partners in both love and business. Aries is ruled by warrior Mars, and Capricorn is a four-star general by nature. You both see life as a battlefield to conquer, and with Aries' grit and Cap's determination, there's no goal you can't achieve. Earthy Capricorn excels at structure and planning, and is the terra firm beneath the Ram's restless hooves. Fiery Aries is a daring playmate who amuses, excites and entertains the sober Goat, especially in the bedroom (where Capricorn has a lesser-known lusty side). Aries is a flirt, and this can spark jealousy in traditional Capricorn. Over time, trust and mutual respect abolish the Goat's fears, and you make supportive lifelong partners.

CAPRICORN + TAURUS (APRIL 20 - MAY 20) ♥♥♥♥ You're fellow Earth signs who really vibe well together. By day, you're both hard-driving workaholics. Taurus is the plodding Bull, Capricorn the sure-footed Mountain Goat. Any business venture you launch together will thrive, and you share a deep respect for tradition, family and long-term security. You're both shrewd financial planners, though your love of earthly pleasures can break the bank, too. Once you punch out and uncork the Sancerre, you morph into a pair of hedonists. Sleeping and lounging are favorite pastimes, and on weekends, a forklift couldn't pry you off the sofa. However, Capricorn is far more self-disciplined than the indulgent Bull. Taurus is ruled by Venus, the goddess of beauty and pleasure; Capricorn by strict Saturn, the cosmic taskmaster. Where Taurus is a megalomaniac forever humming his own praise song, poor Cappy flogs himself for even the slightest misstep. Saturn's repression also gives Cap an eccentric side; he can fall into melancholy or fatalistic spells that confound Taurus. The Goat is always planning for rainy days—and as karma goes, plan for a downpour, and you'll surely get one. Taurus refuses to pack an umbrella, for he can't fathom worrying about something that hasn't even happened yet, nor shown up on the radar. You both have something to teach each other. The Bull is gifted at savoring the present, while nostalgic Capricorn obsesses over the past and the future. Strive to get your timing right.

CAPRICORN + GEMINI (MAY 21 - JUNE 20) A metaphor for this match: a music producer combines a soulful 1970s classic (Capricorn) with funky electronic hooks (Gemini) and delivers a mashup that's either a mess or a chart-topping hit. You couldn't be any more different if you tried, yet you can really benefit from each other's natural resources. Gemini is ruled by speedy Mercury, the lightning-fast trickster who speaks in silver-tongued half truths. Capricorn's overlord is Saturn, the cautious, conservative planetary patriarch, who only trusts that which stands the test of time. Gemini is versatile and restless, like a fusebox with a million criss-crossed wires. Capricorn is the dutiful ox who carries the yoke and plows the field, rarely diverging from routine. While Capricorn's dogged consistency and family loyalty can frustrate Gemini ("How can you let these people walk all over you?" Gemini asks, referring to Cap's elderly parents), it also grounds the scattered Twins.Gemini is Capricorn's one-man circus, keeping the Goat amused and entertained, adding color to his monochromatic world. You both have a lusty, experimental side, too. The magic really appears when you get physical, which happens fast, since your sexual attraction is intense. In fact, Capricorn is one of the few signs that can spike Gemini's jealousy. There are so many people who rely on sturdy, supportive Cap, and Gemini doesn't like to compete for the spotlight. To make this work, Gemini will have to accept that Capricorn's loyalty extends to family and lifelong friends. Stoic Cap will need to show a little more emotion, since impish Gemini needs to know he can get under Capricorn's skin. It will take time to work out the kinks, but the erotic tet-a-tets will be worth the trouble.

CAPRICORN + CANCER (JUNE 21 - JULY 22) ♥♥♥♥ Paging June and Ward Cleaver! Cancer is astrology's mother and Capricorn is its patriarch. You're opposite signs that might very well polarize into these retro roles. On the zodiac wheel, Cancer rules the fourth house of home, family and femininity. Capricorn governs its tenth house of fatherhood, authority, masculinity and ambition. In many ways, it's nice to have a mate who happily redresses your shortcomings. Yet, it can also be off-putting. Cancer longs for touch and affection, misty-eyed Hallmark moments and emotionally naked conversations. Stoic Capricorn can be stiff and formal, a closet neurotic who pooh-poohs Cancer's feelings as overblown melodramas. In truth, Capricorn just internalizes his feelings, then falls into depressions or flogs himself mercilessly. You must learn the other's "love language" to succeed as a couple.Cancer shows caring through sentimental gestures, food, togetherness and well-intended nagging. Capricorn's expression is through duty—bringing home a steady paycheck, showing up on time, holding it together when everyone else falls apart. Capricorn must learn to honor Cancer's feelings and intuition; the Crab must develop gratitude for Capricorn's loyalty and quiet wisdom. Parenting is where you really shine as a team. Raising children is the ultimate honor for your signs, as well as a creative challenge. You're both loyal to your families, no matter how much they drive you crazy. This is a quality you respect in each other. At the end of the day, you share enough common values to make a solid, lifelong match.

CAPRICORN + LEO (JULY 23 - AUGUST 22) You're insatiably attracted, but you often end up hurting each other through a series of misunderstandings and ego battles. Leo is ruled by the confident Sun, Capricorn by self-doubting Saturn. That's just the start of your differences. Leo is a starry-eyed Fire sign who believes that anything can be achieved by sheer willpower and the refusal to take "no" for an answer. Capricorn is a traditional Earth sign, equally ambitious, but rarely willing to color outside the lines. He approaches life like a steady Mountain Goat, taking tentative steps toward his ten-year goals. Your different pacing could drive you both mad. Although loyal Capricorn is usually the stalwart partner in relationships, Leo is far more devoted in this match. Lusty Capricorn is mostly interested in sex. While you'll have plenty of hot romps, Leo can mistake Capricorn's physical attraction for love. Oops! The Lion must perform due diligence, and assume nothing. Unlike Leo, Capricorn's love is hard-won, not something he hands out like candy to Trick-or-Treaters. Then, there's the cheerleading that grates on the Goat. Leo urges Cap to believe in himself, which the Goat laughs off as fluff ripped straight from a cheesy self-help tome. Yet, lo!—Leo follows Covey's seven steps and becomes a highly successful person. Instead of congratulating Leo, war is declared: Capricorn scoffs at Leo's dreams, and Leo sets out to prove Capricorn wrong ("I'll show you!"). Before long, you stay together just to spite each other. What's the point?

CAPRICORN + VIRGO (AUGUST 23 - SEPTEMBER 22) ♥♥♥♥ You're pragmatic Earth signs who strike a perfect balance between sensible and sensual. You bring out the best in one another. Virgo is ruled by Mercury, the communication planet. A natural psychologist and articulate speaker, this sign likes to talk everything out. Stoic Capricorn is ruled by stern, repressed Saturn, and struggles to voice his feelings. Capricorn benefits from Virgo's ability to draw him out of dark thoughts. When Virgo's anxieties take hold, practical Capricorn brings a helpful dose of perspective. Dutiful souls, you take care of parents, friends and family members, and your cozy home is everyone's favorite crash pad. Holidays and parties are warm, congenial affairs, and nobody wants to leave. Marriage is a sure success, and you laugh often, excellent medicine for your serious signs. The lovely thing about this combination is how natural you can be—a refreshing break from your formal public demeanors. A favorite example: One Virgo friend, a singer-songwriter, was stricken with a creative block. Her Capricorn husband poked his head into her studio, and found her obsessing. She launched into complaining, and he deftly interrupted: "Wanna f---?" A satisfied hour later, she finished the song. Offensive to prim Virgo from any other sign, but Capricorn can go there. You relax into your carnal natures around each other, loosening up in ways that few other signs can elicit.

CAPRICORN + LIBRA (SEPTEMBER 23 - OCTOBER 22) Capricorn is the provider sign, forever seeking a mate in need of financial backing. Libra is a vain dilettante who's happy to play muse to an Earthy benefactor. You have your oft-irreconcilable differences, yet you stay together all the same. In many ways, you have what the other needs. Libra is a master of social graces with a billion air-kissed "friends." Capricorn can be an antisocial grumble-puss who cleaves to childhood cronies and family. Libra spends on impulsive pleasures; Capricorn plans for tomorrow. Battles can be brutal. You're both convinced of your natural superiority; your haughty contretemps and ego showdowns merit a Bravo series. Of course, antisocial Capricorn would never allow cameras into the estate, while Libra would whip together a stylist, understudy and five-star craft services. Therein lies the difference: your values. Not an easy hurdle to scale, even for a determined Goat or a patient Judge. A successful relationship will require much compromise. The fawning affection romantic Libra craves will be in short order. Capricorn shows love through acts of service and loyalty, not pandering. Libra must learn to accept love in a less-adorned package, and trade a few parties for cozy nights in. Capricorn must exit the cave to meet new people, play host and smile once a season. You can do it—but will you be happy? That's the question.

CAPRICORN + SCORPIO (OCTOBER 23 - NOVEMBER 21) ♥♥♥♥ If you were to sign a pre-nup, Schedule A must clearly designate who will play the "Top" and who will be the "Bottom." After your attorneys haggle over the prone position, you may just call off the engagement. An inability to reach settlement is likely for two uncompromising Alphas such as yourselves. Although your business-savvy signs can make quite the contemporary Napoleon and Josephine, LLC, there are terms that must be negotiated in advance. For one, you'll need to swear off secrecy—and that will be the true test of your relationship. Scorpio and Capricorn are masters of underhanded power plays that could topple this merger fast. Your first job: learn and practice direct communication ("whip me like THIS" or "no, darling, the leather corset, not the PVC"). Master it, and the rest is a cakewalk. You can lash each other to bedposts, tryst on the conference table in your glass-paned office tower, or earn your mile-high wings with nary a flight attendant knowing. The 2.5 kids you produce will have some interesting conception stories, that's for sure. Not that you'll ever tell. A little secrecy with the rest of the world is fine. Just make sure to erase those sex tapes before the housekeeper finds them.

CAPRICORN + SAGITTARIUS (NOVEMBER 22 - DECEMBER 21) The fate of this match rests in your ability to merge your strengths. Sagittarius is the visionary and the starry-eyed optimist; Capricorn is the master architect and builder, the ultimate realist. You each excel where the other is weak, and you make excellent business partners. However, your values and lifestyles can be vastly different, complicating romance. It's like the class clown dating the class president—an odd couple indeed. To Sagittarius, it's fascinating that anyone could possess such restraint. Stoic Capricorn cracks hard-won smiles at Sagittarius' antics and amusing insights. Yet, Sag optimism soon clashes with Cap pessimism, and here's where you reach your impasse. Restless Sagittarius needs a playmate to dream and scheme, but cautious Cappy shoots holes in the Archer's impetuous ideas, pointing out the foundational flaws. Yet, it's that grim, unvarnished realism that saves the day in a crisis. While Sagittarius freaks out and lapses into denial, Earthy Capricorn holds a powerful, Zenlike acceptance of "what is." Love truly blooms when you make it through a dire breakdown and realize your incredible teamwork turned the ship around. For the long haul, independent Sag must allow Capricorn to be the rock, and the Goat must learn to take a few more bold personal risks.

CAPRICORN + CAPRICORN (DECEMBER 22 - JANUARY 19) Two ambitious Capricorns are on a lifelong mission to get ahead. If you can reach the brass ring faster by teaming up, then why not? You certainly admire each other's unflagging determination and crafty tactics—and you apply your business savvy to courtship, much like a game of chess. Name-dropping is akin to sexual banter for your sign, and "getting into the VIP section" sounds like a kinky metaphor. In a way, it is. You're titillated by power and yearn to be part of the elite. Sure, it may sound cold and calculating, but by nature you're a goal-oriented sign who lives by a long-term plan. Thus, your mate must fit neatly into the picture. You're a pair of workaholics with a closet kinky streak, and if you can leave the office before midnight, you'll enjoy a lusty connection behind closed doors. At the same time, you cleave strongly to time-honored tradition and remain loyal to your childhood friends for life. Parental approval and proper stock is a must. No matter how much you love someone, if he/she doesn't fit into the family dynasty, it's a deal breaker.

CAPRICORN + AQUARIUS (JANUARY 20 - FEBRUARY 18) This is the match of the traditionalist and the rebel, the rule-maker and the rule-breaker. Capricorn is the guardian of history, and Aquarius is an innovator who has little regard for the past. If you can meet somewhere in the present, it's sure to be interesting. Disciplined Capricorn can teach Aquarius the value of structure, and Aquarius can help Cap think outside the box. You're both competitive and controlling in your own ways, and few signs can rival your work shared work ethic. The wheeler-dealer light never switches off in either of you—you'll hand out business cards at a funeral. Still, you might be better off as professional partners, since your bedside manner is so different. Lusty Capricorn may be aloof in public, but this sensual Earth sign is a bona fide freak in the sheets. Although Aquarius may love to shock people in public, behind closed doors your interest in sex can be tepid at best. (As the ruler of electricity, gadgets may be preferable.) Socially, Capricorn can be cold or snobbish, choosing friends based on status. Popular Aquarius befriends everyone—don't be surprised if the Chinese food delivery guy ends up at the dinner table sharing your Hunan chicken. Still, Capricorn can be an important grounding force for Air-sign Aquarius, preventing you from floating off into the ether. Life is never dull with an unpredictable Aquarian.

CAPRICORN + PISCES (FEBRUARY 19 - MARCH 20) On the surface, you might seem like an odd match—imagine a Harvard MBA in Armani dating a paint-splattered artist in Oshkosh. Yet, your signs pair well, even if you don't want to admit it. With classic good looks and a dutiful nature, Capricorn fits neatly into the system. Pisces is a flowy Fish who excels at playing the the artsy rebel, the indie darling, the adorable mess. By comparison, Capricorn seems structured and regimented—but appearances deceive. While Pisces may delight in coloring outside the neat lines Capricorn draws, the real surprise is that Capricorn is the bigger freak behind closed doors. Capricorn has a dominant, even cruel streak that can play out in the bedroom (not that submissive Pisces doth protest). Leather, whips and kinky fun—it's all fair game. You both love to find lesser-known wine, music, and art, a pride yourself on having cultivated tastes. Together, you can traverse the tony uptown spaces to the lowbrow dives, discovering cultural jewels wherever you go. Your diverse strengths could make you great business partners, too. Open a gallery, with Pisces as curator and Capricorn as financial backer.

[loverdrew]

Promise, You Won’t Fall In Love With Me

He never knew love. He never understood relationships. He never imagined his life after high school or outside of his fame. She was the opposite. She deeply loved her family, she had ambition, intelligence and drive. They were the complete opposite, but together, they wouldn’t know what to do without each other.

Inspired by the movie A Walk To Remember.

Senior year. The year all the students turn 18, throw the wildest parties, the lifelong dreams of getting acceptance letters from their dream college. However, the Ethan Dolan didn’t have to worry about that one bit. He already had a future. He would continue making video comedy content online for his millions of girl fans that adored his soft eyes and bright smile. After this year he would move to California to pursue even bigger dreams, leaving his heart in New Jersey. 

The hallways and outside the school yard filled with laughter, hugs, girls wearing close to nothing, and the guys drooling over them. Ethan walked in holding his football, jersey on full display, taking in the last first day of any schooling he’d ever get. 

“My boys!” One of his friends, Jason, exclaimed. He hugged both Grayson and Ethan and put both arms around them walking into school. “This going to be the best year yet?”

“Oh you know it! The parties, the easy classes, the girls!” Grayson rubbed his hands together and laughed.

Ethan’s laughed along with his friends walking into the building, when the most unexpected girl caught his eye at her locker. It was Y/N. He had known her since kindergarten, she always wore the same type of outfit: a pastel skirt to her knees and a blouse with the same beige knitted sweater. Her hair always out of her face either in a ponytail or behind her ears, and she wore a brown shoulder bag to carry her books. They never particularly talked or even hung out together, but he somehow knew everything superficial about her. She never paid him any attention, except in class when he tried to be disruptive on purpose. He weirdly wished she would pay attention then. But he’s hooked up with prettier girls than her, so she wasn’t one to be upset over, right?

“Ethan Dolan, to the principals office. Ethan Grant Dolan, please come to the principals office.” They all heard, even Y/N. Their eyes met for a split second, before she closed her locker and headed to home period. 

“Damn dude, trouble on the first day?” Jason joked.

“Shut up man. You know I’m the model student.” He smirked, shaking hands with his friends before headed to the office, which happened to be right across from Y/N’s home period, not like he noticed. He swiftly walked into the office and sat in the chair in front of principle Henderson, who closed the door with a stern look on his face.

“Ethan, what did I tell you about getting into trouble again.” He crossed his arms.

“Principle Henderson, I don’t know what you mean but I have been an angel since last semester, haven’t I?” He flashed that boyish smile of his that got him out of every situation, just not this one. 

The principle proceeds to pull out 5 beer bottles and 2 bitter nubs of used joints. Ethan stiffened, his mouth running dry.

“I have no idea what those are.” He said quietly.

“Cut the act Dolan. Along with drinking and smoking on school property, you’re on the verge of not graduating. You have a combined GPA of 2.3. You need at least a 2.9 to graduate. Now I could expel you and kick you off the football team now...” Ethan begins to worry sit up straight, trying not to believe this could be true. “But I won’t.” Ethan looked up at him with a big sigh, eyes falling shut.

“Thank you, thank you so much Mr.Henderson I promise I’ll be even better-”

“You didn’t let me finish. Instead of doing all that, you’re going to be doing something for me. You will get a tutor which I will assign to you, and you’ll be spending time after school participating in our schools fall play.”

“Oh cmon Mr. Henderson you can’t be serious. I can’t act, at all.”

“You acted like you didn’t know where that bottle came from. And now you’ll act as the prince in our schools production of Beauty and the Beast.” Ethan struggled with the principles decisions, but if he didn’t do it he would’ve been destroyed having to give up his friends and football. 

“When do rehearsals start.” He said plainly.

______

At lunch, instead of being in the lunchroom with his group of friends laughing and being dorks together, he was stuck in the library for the next 45 minutes, waiting for whoever his new tutor is. He tapped his pencil impatiently. All he had to do was pass English and Government/Economics with at least a 75% and he’d be golden, but even he didn’t know how he could manage that. He looked around, and heard the library door open in front of him, revealing the golden eyed girl walking in with such ease. Her eyes found his and slightly pulled at her bag strings nervously. He sighed in disbelief, of course the girl with straight A’s, captain of the science club and the church singer was his tutor. 

“Hi Ethan. I’m Y/N, your tutor for this semester.” She said in a soft voice just above a whisper. “Today we’re just going over basics explained in the syllabus but it won’t take long, maybe 25 minutes so you’ll be able to run off with your friends.” She took a seat in front of him, opening up the Government textbook and her notebook with the classes syllabus laid out.

“I don’t need you to do me any favors okay, I just need to pass. I would think you’d want me here considering Ms. I’m-so-holy doesn’t have many friends.” He spat at her. Partially because he felt embarrassed, partially because he didn’t want to give her any impression that he in any way cared about her. It didn’t even phase her, being that her whole life was filled with constant ridicule and bullying. She stayed calm amidst his venomous words.

“The teachers are my friends, my church choir are my friends, my father is my friend. Please don’t pretend like you know me, Ethan. You haven’t even spoken to me ever.”

“But I’ve been going to school with you and living in the same neighborhood as you since we were 5. Your father is a prodigious doctor that always goes to church to watch you sing. You’ve lived in the same white house with the pink flowers surrounding the white painted porch. You always wear pastel colors because you like to be girly but don’t want attention. You started putting your hand back in middle school because it always got in your face when you were studying. I know you Y/N. Don’t act like you don’t know me either.”

“I know you Ethan. Which means I know you’re capable of doing greater things than being the stereotypical jock. You’re successful and talented and smart, learn to use it. Now let’s get started.” She said without even looking at him, and staring daggers into her book. 

_____

After school, Ethan trudged his way to the schools theatre, where everyone would be meeting up for the parts and the production of the play. No surprise that Y/N was there, script in hand near the piano, while someone playing ‘Beauty and the Beast’, and she hummed along. The stage lights somehow made her skin shine brighter, and her hair glisten. He scoffed, and sat in the 3rd row, seeing all of the theatre nerds gather with smiling faces ready to start production.

“Alright everyone settle down. We are going to cast roles right now so listen up!” Ms. Davida clapped her hands and stood in front of the stage. 

“For the role of Lumiere and Cogsworth, Louis and Jeremy! Mrs. Potts goes to Claira, Gaston goes to Derrick, Belle goes to of course, Y/N, and The Beast is played by the newest member to theatre Mr. Ethan Dolan.” Ethan knew he would get the lead, but Y/N did not. Her eyes spread wide, whites fully visible as her grip on her script tightened just slightly, the realization that she’d have to play his princess. She could barely handle his demeanor during tutoring, but in something that she loves to do she would only hope he wouldn’t ruin it for her. 

“Opening night is in exactly 3 months just before Christmas break, so that means you’ll all need to work hard and together to make this production amazing but I believe in you all. So let’s get right to it! Ethan, Y/N on the stage please we will be starting with the scene when Belle and the Beast argue, right after he saves her from the wolves. Feel the anger, feel the frustration.” She had that typical musical theatre teacher ‘passion voice’, really trying to emphasize the feelings within the scene. Ethan couldn’t take her seriously, laughing as he jumped onto stage and grabbing ahold of a script. 

“Y/N, you start and pretend that you’re cleaning up his wound.”

Y/N slightly rolled her eyes and put her hand out signaling Ethan to give her his arm. He sighed and slammed his arm into her palm, she then yanked it closer to her not caring if it hurt him, and pretended with her other hand to be patting it.

“If you’d hold still it wouldn’t hurt it as much!” She yelled her first line. Ethan could tell some of that frustration was real. So he decided to do the same.

“Well if you wouldn’t have run away, this wouldn’t have happened!”

“If you wouldn’t have frightened me I wouldn’t have run away!”

“Well you shouldn’t have been in the West Wing!”

“Well you should learn to control your temper.” She said plainly, as if it was an actual piece of advice.

“Now hold still. This might sting a little.” In the script it says for Ethan to wince in pain, so he did, just not well at all. It was forced, and painfully bad to watch his face squint uncomfortably. Y/N sighed, turning to the teacher.

“Ms. Davida he needs to take this seriously, some of us really want this play to go well.”

“I don’t even want to be here, I was forced to join the play, I could’ve gone my entire life without acting in a play.”

“Then leave.” She stepped forward in his face, quickly walking away towards backstage to get some air. He made her so angry. His cocky attitude, his rude tone of voice, the way he could get under her skin over and over again yet she still wanted to see good in him because she truly believed he had some left. Ethan looked off with a surprised face to see all the cast looking at him, and the principle standing at the edge of the theatre, arms crossed. He got nervous, making his way backstage to catch Y/N drinking some water.

“Y/N, hey Y/N, please listen to me.” He grabbed her hand but she angrily pulled it back.

“What.”

“Help me okay. I’m sorry, I really need to do great in this play or else I get expelled. I’m sorry for being so mean and always in your face. I just-this is all new to me.”

“Being nice to someone trying to genuinely help you is ‘new to you’?” she used air quotes, rolling her eyes taking another sip of water. 

“No, trying new things. Trying to be good. I’ve always acted tough on purpose because I thought that’s how it should be. People give you more respect.”

“Your act only works on an audience.” Y/N saw through it since first day of kindergarten when he stole her crayons and snored next to her ear during nap time to annoy her. But she paid no mind, there were more important things to worry about than a little boy. 

“Ethan, if you promise me you try, like really try, in all aspects, I won’t be opposed to helping you.” She said calmly, with her normal soft voice.

“I won’t say I’ll be perfect, but I’ll do the best I can.”

“That’s all I ask.” She started walking back onto the stage where they were already rehearsing another scene, but she quickly turned back around to say one last minor detail.

“Oh yea and Ethan, one more thing. You have to promise not to fall in love with me.” 

A chuckle came from his mouth as he looked her up and down. 

“Without a doubt, that is a promise I can keep.”

[ourbrokeninsanity]

Watchdog Man Relationship/Boyfriend Headcanons

I’ve noticed Watchdog Man doesn’t get a lot of attention in these things so I thought I’d give him some. I think he’d be a pretty great partner, so long as you don’t mind his quirks. We don’t know much about him so I’ll try to keep it pretty open.

Considering Watchdog Man is based on Hachiko he likely has quite a tragic backstory. Which is why he is the way he is (stoic, bland face, doesn’t interact with people much). So the fact that he’s in a relationship already says a lot about how much he cares about that person. It takes a lot for Watchdog Man to get involved with someone - because of the fear of losing them.

However, once he’s in a relationship he is all in. His feelings are intense though not obviously so - he remains stoic and casual. He’s loyal and dedicated (just like Hachiko). Will never look at someone else when he’s in a relationship - the whole concept just doesn’t make sense to him. Why would he look elsewhere when he has you? Also doesn’t talk about you behind your back. Your relationship stays between the two of you (unless he’s teasing you).

He mixes boyfriend, friend and pet behaviours. Is pretty much all of these in one. As such he is loyal, caring and playful. Yeah, you didn’t really expect the last one but he does enjoy teasing you in a playful way. Often makes you smile and laugh this way. For example, he’ll pretend to be a lapdog and just plonk himself in your lap. If you tell him he’s too big he’ll act all wounded (but with the same blank expression which just makes it funnier) and say “but [Y/N]-chan I fit perfectly and you’re comfy.”

He will often use/exaggerate his doggy behaviour to make you smile. Like if you’re upset he’ll nuzzle at you and cuddle up with you. Or if you’ve been studying for 4 hours straight he’ll take your collar in his mouth and literally pull you away from your books telling you “it’s time for walkies. Outside. Where the sun is. You need to look after yourself.”    

You’re his person the way Q-City is his town. He’s protective of you and will actively make sure the areas you frequent are safe (from both monsters and humans). His partner is his family (likely his only family due to said tragic backstory). 

A very casual boyfriend. Generally prefers to spend time with you at home rather than going out. He tends to attract a lot of attention from the public when he’d rather focus on you. Not that he won’t go out or make grand gestures but even these tend to come across as quite casual - probably because his expression stays the same. You’ll come home after a long day to a candlelit dinner and Watchdog Man sitting with a single rose in his mouth, blank-faced as always.

Is not at all jealous and it’s pretty much impossible to make him jealous. Very secure in your relationship. Doesn’t really care who you hang out with as long as you’re safe and happy. If someone starts hitting on you he generally leaves you to handle it, unless they refuse to take no for an answer or you start smelling really stressed or are otherwise sending him ‘help me’ signals. Then he’ll pad on over and generally weird the person away. Like he’ll just sit and stare at them until they move away. If this proves ineffective he’ll straight up tell them to leave you alone. “[Y/N] is mine. Leave.” He can be very blunt. He only gets violent with humans if they act violently first.

The most jealous he gets if you have/get a pet. Especially if it’s a pet that you cuddle a lot. He’ll be giving them the side-eye as they sit on your lap. If you stuck your head in the room when the two are alone you’d see Watchdog Man sat opposite your pet with a serious expression on his face. He leans down to their level and says something like “we both love [Y/N]-chan so we have to share. It’s not fair for you to hog all the lap time.” Honestly it’s rather humorous.    

Loves domesticity. He likely initiates living together (if he has his way you’ll be living together within 6 months of the relationship starting). He won’t pressure you into it, but all he wants is to build a home with you. Wake up with your scent around him. Come home to you. To Watchdog Man your sleepy bedheaded self is >>>>> than you polished and dressed up. Plus living together maximises the time he gets to spend with you around both your busy schedules. He loves seeing you being casual and open with your interests/habits - adores the intimacy and freedom of it. 

Watchdog Man doesn’t put on an act (except for the purposes of being playful and teasing) and doesn’t expect you to either (do you mumble to yourself, sit in ‘odd’ ways, ect? He doesn’t care, go for it). Watchdog Man acts the same on the first date as he will on your tenth anniversary. That casual tenderness and generosity is lifelong. As such there’s no real urge to try and impress him or anything like that. He just wants you to be you.   

He’s not particularly verbally affectionate. He rarely says I love you but prefers to show you with his actions. Makes time for you and is super emotionally supportive. If you’re having a stressful time and need to vent/cry/cuddle he’s right there and will let you get it all out without interrupting. You can be free with your emotions with him (the way you can be with a pet - no judgement, just support). He won’t say anything about it unless he’s concerned that there’s something going on. He might just casually check in with how you are doing an hour later. You can talk about anything with Watchdog Man and know that he’ll listen - even if it doesn’t look like he’s listening.  

Very physically affectionate. The best cuddle partner (except in summer; you have no idea how he doesn’t overheat in the fur). Lie all over him, let him lie all over you, rest his head in your lap while he naps, lean on him, stroke his fur, play wrestle, ride on his back - he loves all of it. In winter he often joins you on the futon to sleep together (so warm and cosy). But he doesn’t mind giving you space. If you don’t want to share a bed (or it’s too warm) but still want him close he’ll move his dog bed next to your futon and let you hold his paw or stroke him as you fall asleep. 

Also he gives great belly rubs (and is happy for you to reciprocate) and will let you play with his paws/toe beans. He thinks it’s adorable to watch you fuss over them. Also likes to nuzzle and lick your cheek. He wasn’t super familiar with kissing when you first got together but he learns to really enjoy them. You could be married for fifty years and he’ll still want kisses and enjoy make-out sessions (that don’t lead to anything).

Speaking of marriage, he can take or leave it. He’s not religious and marriage doesn’t really mean anything to Watchdog Man - he’s as dedicated to you 3 weeks into the relationship (unmarried) as he is 10 years later (married). However, if you got him a dog collar he pretty much considers that a marriage proposal and wedding ceremony in one. It’s a symbol of your regard for him and he wears it always. So it really depends on his partner if they actually get legally married or not.

He doesn’t use a lot of pet names. Unless there’s one you really like to be called he probably just adds -chan to your name (whether you’re male or female because he thinks you’re super cute). He, however, will respond to literally anything as long as he recognises that you mean it as a term of endearment. You could call him Fluffy Hunbun in the middle of an S-class meeting and he would be completely unfazed (nothing you do or say ever embarrasses him). Sometimes you use really bizarre pet names just to see how he’ll react. He knows what you’re doing. He admires your creativity. However, his favourite of all of them (and the one you probably use most often) is puppy. 

He’s quite generous. If you off-handidly mention how you’re struggling to get hold a rare textbook or something, you’ll come home the next day to see one sat on the table. Again he’s very casual about it - you needed something and he could get it (fat paycheck and connections due to being an S-class hero) so he did - that’s what a good boy(friend) does. He didn’t expect to ever have a family again, so he considers this kind of thing to be paying you back for giving him that.

So we know he has super doggy senses (mostly smell but I imagine he has the others too). Probably the first gift he gave you was a special doggy whistle that only he can hear. “If you’re in danger than blow the whistle. I’ll come protect you.” He’s not losing his family again.

Also uses his senses to understand you. He can smell what mood you’re in (stressed, upset, scared, happy, aroused) and other hormonal changes and uses this to base how he should respond. Like if he finds you just sitting quietly in the dark, he’ll have a sniff - are you just thinking/daydreaming? Upset? Angry? It’s one of the reasons he’s so physically affectionate, he wants your happy scent all over him. Best scent ever. 

If his partner has a menstrual cycle he always knows what point their at - he doesn’t consciously mean to track it, it just happens. He’ll ask (seemingly randomly) if you need any menstrual products picking up and, lo and behold, your period starts in the next couple of days. It takes you an embarrassingly long time to figure out how he always knows. Plus he can usually sniff out if you’re ill/coming down with something. If you’re feeling bleh you can ask for a sniff check to see if you’re actually coming down with something or if it’s just a momentary thing.         

[raevenlywrites]

The Ties That Bind 2 of ???

“What were you thinking?”

Rei exploded, frayed ends of his nerves finally snapping. It was enough to snap me out of my shocked horror, the dread that had taken me in the hallway. Seeing both sides, so ready to fight--

“Rei, this has to stop!”

We stood in the violence charged aura of the room, muscles still singing with unused adrenaline. The tension trembled through me, a humming string just waiting to be released. I couldn’t help but see Zane’s coiled readiness in Rei’s tensed hands, as he clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to burn off some of that fighting edge.

“He tries to kill you,” Rei said with a forced calm I knew he didn’t yet feel, “and you jump to defend him?”

“If he’d wanted to kill me,” I bit back, “he could have done so over an hour ago when he’d first arrived.”

Rei stared at me, scanning me from head to foot for some hidden injury. Then he looked me over again, taking in my interrupted attempts to dress for bed, and it was only when color rose to his cheeks and his gaze darted quickly to the side that I realized what he must think.

“You too?” I cried. “What is it about my unbuttoned blouse that makes every man that sees me think I have no virtue left?”

I clutched my arms tight about myself, partly to comfort myself, and partly to keep from slapping my guard and lifelong friend. I didn’t know what infuriated me more: that Zane thought he’d interrupted me and Andreios, or that Andreios somehow thought he’d interrupted me and Zane.

“Dani, I didn’t--“

“Didn’t sweep the room for her safety, or didn’t do you duty and slay the villain while you had the chance?”

We both whirled to see my mother, standing in imperial fury, flanked by all our people, and half the Mistari guards.

Rei dropped to one knee, fist to his chest in the deepest salute our people had to offer. The guards didn’t usually bother--it left them utterly defenseless--but my mother had already murdered Rei on the spot with her words, so what did it matter, the safety of his body?

“My lady--“

“Oh get up, Andreios. You won’t do anyone any good down there.”

Rei snapped to his feet, tall and still and perfect as any carved soldier. Only the furious crimson of his face gave any indication that his heart still beat.

“Mother--“

“Button your blouse, Danica, and put on your boots. We’re leaving.”

“Mother!”

The Mistari guards all flinched at my raised voice, anticipating further violence. I thought again of the scene in the hall, our little armies ready to clash, our insatiable war threatening to spread.

This had to stop.

“We just got here; we’re tired. In the morning--“

“In the morning we will be half-way home--flying over the remains of a failed ambush.”

“I-- what?”

I stared at mother, uncomprehending.

“The messenger came just now. General Cadmia found spies in the woods, waiting to shoot us down on our return. We must leave now, before they discover their plot has failed and regroup.”

“There’s no way. Irene assured us their soldiers had pulled back--“

“They lied, Shardae. It’s what they do.”

Apparently, so had we. Or else how would we have known their soldiers hadn’t retreated as promised?

I wanted to stay, to see if the Disa might offer some less outrageous suggestion, or if I had simply misunderstood her intention in my exhaustion from the long flight. But I also wanted to speak with my generals, and discover why they had ignored a direct order from their Tuuli Thea.

Assuming she had given it.

I let my flight lead me back home, fleeing the problem of Zane Cobriana, and fearing I was returning to a much bigger one. - “Routine maneuvers,” General Rinnman said. The raven was three score my senior, and one of the oldest among us. Our people could be quite long lived, if not cut down prematurely in battle. Rinnman and the other generals all had varying degrees of grey at their temples, but their bodies remained sculpted and sharp. While the generals did not engage directly in most battles, they still trained daily with their soldiers, each knowing every member of their flights and their exact capabilities. The Royal Flight was the best of the best, and most that survived to step back from active duty became our army’s generals.

My army’s generals.

“You had been ordered to stand down,” I repeated, not satisfied with the dismissive nature of his answer. This wasn’t my first time attending a meeting of the generals’ council. It was, however, the first time I had called one.

The flight home had done nothing to calm my doubts; the constant vigilance of Rei and the rest of the flight had only heightened my unease. I summoned my generals to me almost the instant we’d landed. The agitated guard had hastened to obey; the restless soldiers in the yard buzzed with the potential for action. I hated the sense of approval from them, that they were glad their soon to be queen was ready to act so swiftly. On the one hand it was true; I was primed and anxious for action. But it wasn’t for any battle or fray they would be taking part in.

“We have to keep up our conditioning,” General Viridian said. He was closer to my mother’s age than Rinnman. He had the grace to look somewhat apologetic in his explanation.

“The soldiers were restless, on edge. Sending them on scouting maneuvers made them feel less like sitting ducks.”

“We were sitting ducks,” Rinnman insisted. “Or would have been, if the scouting parties hadn’t found them out--“

“How do you know they weren’t scouting parties?” I demanded. The half dozen men just stared at me.

“How do you know the serpiente soldiers weren’t just doing exactly as you were, burning off nervous energy on routine maneuvers?” I pinned Rinnman with my molten gold eyes as I said it.

Rinnman bloviated, but in the end, didn’t have a good answer. None of them did. I called an end to the meeting with a pounding headache, insisting once again that we stand down. I told my generals that if they needed to fly scouting parties that was all well and good, but that their scouts were to report back before any actual engagement. I also gave them permission to put teams on additional fortifications, if they had that much energy to burn, around the outlying farms and settlements that lay between the serpiente and the Keep. Too long, those parts of our lands had been left more or less on their own, with the large focus of our forces spent on defending the keep itself, or engaged on the bloody fields that stood in the empty stretches between us and the serpiente. Like a scar on the land, those stretches of forest and field lay empty of any habitation for generations. I wondered nonsensically as I prepared for bed if all those years of blood would yield richer crops, or anything could be grown there at all. -- I dreamed of Zane, of Rei, of Vasili. The only thing that allowed me to sleep at all I think was exhaustion. I had been up for nearly two days straight by the time I’d finally retired. It mirrored my emotional weariness perfectly, and made for unshakable slumber.

My dreams walked a familiar path, adding little detours here and there but remaining mostly unchanged. I would dream of my most recent walk through the fields of blood--this time seeing the red of Gregory’s eyes leaking out in crimson tears to stain the world and leave his eyes grey and hollow and lifeless--and inevitably I would find myself a small child again, chasing after Rei, who had gone out to find his missing father...

“Rei...”

I called out for my friend, finding the man who would be my guard, and in the way of dreams he was somehow both Rei and Vasili, my fallen alastair. I had been too young when I’d lost him to remember much, so my mind often substituted the relationship I’d built with Rei for the man who should have had his place. I let myself fall into his arms, taking care and comfort in dreams in a way I wished I knew how to do in my waking life.

I turned my face up to him, but somehow it was a garnet gaze that looked back at me.

It's not a dealbreaker for me, he’d said. We both have heirs to produce.

“Give me back my alastair,” I muttered to the dream, burying my face in his chest. It was a nice chest, broader and more muscled than his avian counterpart. Counterpart. Goddess, what a thought. What my mother and the other scandalized hoverhawks would think if they could hear me now.

“Not your alastair yet,” the dream Zane mused lightly. “I believe that was the point of all this?”

He gestured around us to the Mistari hall, grown up around us in the way of dreams. Though the ground was still the blood-stained grass and undergrowth of our own lands. But now tigers had been added to the fallen dead, my sick premonition of our war spreading come to life in my awful, unshakable dreams. Why couldn’t I believe in peace with as much certainty as I dreamed of war?

I turned away from the carnage, waking just enough to feel myself rolling over in my bed. Almost enough to wake, almost, but never quite enough. Zane’s voice was soft behind me.

“I wish we’d had a real chance to talk,” it said. I did my best to ignore it, willing my dreams to shift.

“I can’t say,” he continued, and his voice sounded closer now. I hugged my pillow closer to me, whimpering softly in my desperation to wake, or change dreams, or something. Anything but this fitting torment of my guilty subconscious. I should have tried harder to stay. I shouldn’t have let my mother bully me out of the peace talks. She could have flown back to deal with the generals--

“I think I could learn to love you, Danica, impossible as it seems.”

The dream’s voice sounded directly in my ear, the breath of my guilty apparition brushing across my cheek. I thought I felt the barest caress of lips on my temple, as if this facsimile of my enemy could somehow absolve me and release me from my nightmares. He leaned over me and pressed something into my hand, a talisman against further bloodshed.

“Come chase better dreams with me,” he whispered, closing my clutching fingers around something smooth and hard. I gripped it the way I wanted to grip him, to hold any hand in this unending morass of memory and horror. It was said the first hawks could sing beautiful visions into their dreams, the first songs of my people being more spell than sound. Apparently all that remained of those gifts was a penchant for lucid mocking nightmares.

“It was meant to be my eldest sister’s.” The dream of Zane was starting to fade, retreating into the dark as the next dream prepared to take his place. Would I dream now of brutalized infants, or crushed eggs in a nest of hawks and serpents alike?

“I hope you will consider wearing it.” He laughed, a dark sound. “Grim as it may be. I’m afraid everything I have to offer you will be somewhat bloodstained.”

“Your majesty, we have to leave.”

That new voice almost startled me to wakefulness. But even the familiar unfamiliar voice was not enough to break me from my wretched nightmares.

The Ties That Bind Tag list: @thehellinsideyourhead @therecouldbecolorsandlove

Raev’s Gen Tag List (should I tag you guys in this? It IS a thing I wrote. I’m gonna say yes unless you guys are like “no of course not we’re sick of hearing about your stupid fic for a twenty year old book XD)

List is currently: @lordkingsmith  @writinglyra @drbibliophile @mperialscribe @adie-dee @lexiklecksi @writinginslowmotion

[nad-zeta]

Match up 🌈

Hi Zeta! Could I get a matchup for Ikesen, please? :3c Basic info: Sagittarius sun (I relate mostly to the truth-seeking, philosophical side of Sag), Gemini moon (addicted to gathering information), Libra rising (just coming off as a nice person on first meeting). INFP, Hufflepuff.

I’m very concerned with ethics and can have a quick temper about perceived injustices; I often feel upset about human and animal suffering, and I’m willing to throw down over someone being hurtful to others. On the downside, I probably have too much pride about my intelligence and also get angry if I feel like someone is talking down to me or dismissing my concerns.

Self-evaluation and change are very important to me. I can never be perfect about how I respond to people, but with experience and loss comes wisdom, and I’ve worked to have more restraint in the way I talk to people even when I’m angry. Even if I’ll never be 100% fair and still make mistakes, I keep thinking about how to do better and trying.

I often spend time listening to people with no outward judgment, so friends, acquaintances, and co-workers are able to feel that I accept and respect them, and I can set people at ease. It’s important to me to be a good listener and to respond in a way that is helpful and supportive for a person’s specific struggles.

My career is in education, currently tutoring college writing & study skills and supervising a peer-turoring program. I love reading about how the brain works and will soon be applying to a graduate program for Learning Sciences. I’m also fascinated with the science of human behavior and relationships.

My undergraduate degree was in English with a focus in creative writing, though with my interest in education now, writing is more of a hobby (that I often avoid). I enjoy sketching as well.

Other than the temper, weak points are a lifelong struggle with depression/anxiety/self-esteem and a tendency to get paralyzed and demotivated by how much I’m already falling short of my standards. I procrastinate a lot and feel like I should be doing more to help people.

I love cats (especially my cat, of course) and pandas. Like a panda, I’m vegetarian and often feel like I have no energy fjsjdnfnwnncjf.

Although I don’t have any firm belief in a higher power or the supernatural, I’m not willing to rule out the idea that spiritual beings / phenomena exist. They haven’t been scientifically proven, but they haven’t been disproven, either!

And uh, I’m bi/pan (grew up identifying as bi so it’s hard to let go of the label even though pan probably fits better) and polyamorous, although outside of an established relationship, I have very little interest in sex. I am also biracial (white/Asian). With all of that, it can be hard to feel like I’m really “at home” anywhere. But I think it helps with having a flexible perspective about diversity.

Oof! That was a lot! Thank you for reading all of it and thank you for being so generous with your time in writing match-ups!

Hi dear! Thank you so much for the request and sorry for making ya wait sooooo long hehe🙈😅! Awww girl I love writing these matchups, so its no problem! I hope you enjoy it and I hope you have the best day!  (⋈◍＞◡＜◍)。✧♡

So I match you with……Hideyoshi

So the first time the two of you really interacted all hell broke loose. You were brought back to the castle by Masamune and was presented before Nobunaga. He had declared that you were to be the new Oda princess. You honestly had a problem with that as you didn’t want to feel like you were a burden or well that you owed them anything, so you insisted Nobunaga give you a real job to earn your keep. The man found you most amusing, not only had you fearlessly saved his life, but here you were, now before him unpleased with being a princess, a title most people in the country would kill for. He gave you his classic smirk “Very well then lucky charm, I shall name you as our new castle chatelaine.” You nodded in satisfaction at that, and just before you could start to relax, you felt someone’s gaze burning a hole through you. 

You turned over to see Nobu’s right-hand man glaring at you, if looks could kill you would be dead, and TBH you were starting to lose your temper with these men. It wasn’t until Hideyoshi said something that made you go off the handle “My lord, I don’t trust this woman, who is to say she won’t kill you in your sleep, or that she was the one  responsible for the fire in the first place.” At that, you scoffed and rolled your eyes “Why would I set a building on fire just to save the dude I am supposedly trying to kill.” Before anyone knew it, you and Hideyoshi were at each other throats. Both of you were being pulled apart by the fellow warlords before things escalated too quickly. Finally, Nobunaga set Hideyoshi straight and dismissed you from the council room to acquaint yourself with the castle

You kept your head down and worked hard, and you were most definitely loved by all the castle staff. You seemed to look past their titles and statuses and got to know them as people, they loved that you never judged them and that you would always be there for them, a friendly ear to listen to their problems and concerns, while giving good constructive advice. This trait of you had also earned you a lot of respect among the warlords, and soon you became quite good friends with most of them. Mitsunari and Ramnaru in particular.

TBH you loved the little angel Mitsunari, as the two of you would often bond over your love for books, reading and knowledge. He loved studying the art of war while you loved learning about people, their brains, behaviours and their relationships. Everyone absolutely adored you, well, all but Hideyoshi. 

But that all ended one day when Mitsunari asked if you would like to help him. Mitsunari needed someone who could assist him during the soldiers training drills, and you were all too happy to assist. You sat beside him and helped him with the paperwork. You had noticed that the chain of command would break and that certain people would be better suited for other units. During your lunch break, Hideyoshi walked up to you and Mitsunari, and you voiced your concerns. He looked at you dumbfounded, how did a woman know so much about human relationships and behaviour. Mitsunari chimed in and very excitedly stated that, he had seen you study the human brain and the science of their behaviours and relationships. Hideyoshi thought for a moment then nodded, “Okay then, show me in which unit you think these men would be best suited”. They continued their training drills, and by the end of it, Hideyoshi was Hella impressed with you!

He wanted to trust you, he really did, but he was caught between duty and his own emotions. That was until one day. On a whim, Nobunaga decided to bring his lucky charm with him to battle. You were hesitant at first but going to war with the Oda’s meant that you wouldn’t have time to procrastinate and that you would have a golden opportunity to help people. You had been studying medicine for a while now, as Ieyasu had joined your and Mitsunari’s book club. 

The two of you work together patching up injured soldiers all afternoon and judging by the influx of wounded men things weren’t looking too good. That night you had helped Masamune with making supper for everyone. You had stood in front of the big pot, scooping the rice dish into everyone’s bowls when you noticed something peculiar. Hideyoshi was holding out his bowl with his left hand. This was strange as he was right-handed and would usually hold it out with his dominant hand. You made a mental note of his behaviours and watched him as everyone ate. That’s when you noticed that he wasn’t using his dominant arm at all. 

Once everyone had retired for the night, you pulled the warlord aside and confronted him. He led you to his tent and unwrapped his arm showing you his wound. You were shook, it was a deep cut across the length of his arm. You lost your temper at the sight “How stupid could you be hiding a severe wound like that, what if I got infected, what if you bled out.” As you ranted about all the possible what-ifs of him not seeking medical treatment sooner, you had him sit down and started gently cleaning and bandaging the wound. 

He had realized at that moment that you were a genuinely kind woman and that he most definitely could trust you. And at that moment you saw something that melted away all your anger, worry and frustration. Hideyoshi’s genuine smile. It was absolutely radiant. Like the sun coming up from the horizon in the morning.

Since that day Hideyoshi was a completely different person towards you. He would often invite you to his manor to help him clean and care for the deep gash on his arm. Once his arm was healed, he would invite you to ask your opinion about different soldiers behaviour and relationships, and where you thought them best suited. Honestly, any excuse just to see you and chat with you. Soon your tea date moved to the local tea houses, and you found yourself enjoying Hideyoshi’s company more and more. He loved the way your eyes would light up when you talk about your interests in science and the human brain. He loves how you cared so much for people and animals and couldn’t stand injustice

In fact, one day as the two of you were walking around the market together, you spotted a group of men bullying a poor defenceless cat. Your blood was boiling, and in an instant, you were there to rescue the cat from the men. Luckily for you, Hideyoshi was hot on your trail, as it had slipped your mind that people in this era carried around weapons. After Hideyoshi fought off the men, he looked over at you to see you cradling the cat in your arms. His heart melted, even more so when you gave him the puppy dog eyes asking if you could keep the poor little thing. Honestly, he could never say no to you. Both you and Hideyoshi had long ago fallen in love with each other, but both of you were just low key to shy to admit it

He decided one day that he just had to tell you how he felt, so he planned out a romantic dinner for the two of you. He made sure to prepare all your favourite vegetarian dishes. As the two of you ate, you could tell something had been bothering him. After dinner, the two of you went outside to sit and enjoy the warm summer breeze. This was the moment Hideyoshi decided to blurt out all his feeling for you. You simply smiled at the silly man and kissed him, returning the feelings.

The two of you made the cutest couple, like you, Hideyoshi love, love loved to help people. He is known as the doting mother hen after all. One of the qualities he loved most about you is your kind heart. Often he would go with you and assist you in teaching the street children how to read and write. He would often steal glances at you and smile at you. He loved how sweet, gentle and patient you were towards the children. You never lost your temper with them, and they loved you so much, they loved that they could come to you with their problems, you would always provide them with helpful and supportive advice which they really appropriated

You loved to spend time with Hideyoshi. Even if that meant being in the same room and doing your own thing. You would often sit in his room and sketch while he worked on admin. You loved the way his eyes lit up, and the bright smiles he would give you, whenever you showed him your finished work. He loved your sketches, and he would often low key steal them and hang them up in his room on full display for all to see your beautiful talent

Anxiety and depression is no problem for this doting mother. Whenever you are having an anxiety attack or going through s depression spell, he will be sure to be, right by your side to support you throughout it. He will pull you into his arms and just hold you, whispering reassuring words in your ears. He knows you have a tendency to be too harsh on yourself and hold yourself at a ridiculously high standards. He will spend hours just rubbing soothing circles on your back and whisper sweet nothings in your ears. This man will dote on you so hard that your anxiety and depression would be soothed as quick as they manifested.

Hideyoshi’s all-time favourite is just holding you in his arms for hours and hours as you read to him, the newest piece of your creative writing or tell him the newest fun fact you had learned from your studies. He loves nothing more than to spend a quiet evening with you cradled in his arms sharing sweet kisses as the two of you exchange stories of each others day

Other Potential matches……………. Ieyasu 

I hope you enjoyed it, love! (◠‿◠✿)❤🌼

[unofficialkfamtranscripts]

King Falls AM - Episode Thirteen: Crop Circle Jerk

View on Google Docs Summary: November 1, 2015 - An emergency at Libbydale Farms has Deputy Troy and King Falls AM on high alert. Mysterious lights? Check. Crop Circles? Check. Intergalactic Gang War? Stay tuned to 660 on the AM Dial to find out.

[podcast intro music]

[S&B show intro]

Ben Good evening! You’re listening to King Falls AM ��� that’s 660 on the radio dial.

Sammy Folks, we are jumping right into it tonight. We got Deputy Troy on the line, live from Libbydale Farms. Hey, Troy, can you hear us alright?

Troy Loud and clear, Sammy. Heard you real fine, too, Ben.

Ben [muttered] Suck an egg.

Sammy Okay. So, Troy. Tell the listeners what you just told us right before we went on air.

Troy Ladies and gents, in all my years— and I mean all of ‘em— I ain’t never seen anything like this! Not even comparatively close to what I’m lookin’ at right this instant. [faint sounds of police radio in bg]

Ben POINT. GET TO IT.

Troy Gosh darnit, Ben. I’m trying to sell the magnitude of what I’m feastin’ my eyes on!

Ben Who even knew you could see Libbydale Farms from so far out in the Kiss Ass Sea aboard the SS Backstabber.

Troy You know G-D well I’m not on a ship nor would it be called the SS Backstabber if I were. Don’t be so damn sore, Ben! Everybody knows I’m sorry! Plus- [kinda shyly] I reckon my ship be called the- USS Super Badass.

Sammy *pointedly clears throat* Troy. Ben. Let’s put our differences aside and let’s get to the matter at hand. So, Troy, you’re live at—?

Ben & Troy Libbydale Farms…

Troy & Ben I’m trying to talk!

Sammy GUYS!

Troy A-a-as I was sayin. I’m out here at the farm and out past the barns just hours ago, Old Man Libbydale called us in, and acres upon acres, boys, have been De.Stroyed out here.

Ben [accusingly] Where were yoouu, earlier this evening, Troy?

Troy Using my keen detective skills and ninja-like mental agility, I can see you’re trying to place me at the scene of the crime, little buddy. However Ol’ Troy was sawin’ logs next to the Mrs. before. my. shift.

Ben While crimes are being committed? *scoffs* Typical.

Troy Now that’s a low blow just be—

[shouting over each other] Ben NO! NO! Troy —low my pistol belt— Ben YOUU— N— TROOYY!— Troy — Ben come on— Ben — T— OHH Troy — this ain’t about the farm— Ben [mocking] OHH YEAHHH- OHHH YOU’RE SOOO— Troy — and you know— Ben —GOOD AT FIGHTING—

Sammy GUYS! GUYS! [“break it up kids”/dad-voice] I understand there’s renewed intensity between you two, but Ben, as co-host of this show and a respected journalist— put it away. Troy, you’re the first friend of the Sammy & Ben Show and a deputy sheriff. You guys don’t have to be best buddies, but let’s please report- on the news story- at hand.

Troy Couldn’t have said it better myself, Sammy.

Ben [hissed] Jesus.

Sammy So, Troy. Old Man Libbydale called you out— Acres of his lands destroyed. How so?

Troy Y’all ain’t gonna believe it, but you know I always shoot you straight… Two words: Crop. Circles.

Sammy [incredulous] Crop circles?

Troy It’s like a live action Led Zeppelin album cover as far as the eye can see! Big ones, little ones. The craziest damn designs you ever could imagine.

Ben Troy, I assume you and the rest of Gunderson’s thugs— I-mean-”deputies”— inspected the circles, and the surrounding areas, for man-made tools? There have been stories that men with boards tied to ropes can replicate what people believe crop circles to look like. Bending the crops at the right angles, etcetera… did you find—

Troy Didn’t find anything, Ben. Not a board… not a footprint… nothin’ but hunched over crops.

Ben So you think—?

Troy Oh, there isn’t a doubt in my mind it’s from the UFOs or those lights. I mean, whichever you wanna call it. No man made these! And in just a few hours to boot!

Sammy Okay. So, has this ever happened here before, Ben?

Ben No! Nor abductions! Not even lights being so close to town. The past few months- have been a hotbed for extraterrestrial activity— it would seem.

Sammy “It would seem”? So you aren’t certain?

Ben *scoff/laugh* I only said “it would seem” so you wouldn’t get all defensive about it.

Sammy Okay, alright. Well, as much as I hate to say it, I definitely feel there’s a lot more than meets the eye here in Kings Falls.

Ben I’m not one to say “I told you so”… But I DID tell you so!

Troy Just so everybody out there knows: Libbydale Farms is private property. So, unless you’re doing the dairy farm tour in mornin’, this is not an attraction for looky-loos. There is an official investigation still ongoin’ here. Plus, don’t nobody need another person gettin’ snatched up by the Martians either.

Ben *smug snort* Martians are from Mars, Troy. They aren’t representative of all extraterrestrials?.

Troy [defensive] Whatever— Ben Nye the Science Guy. I’m headin’ out to the field again. I might not be smart as Ben about the aliens and such, but I can definitely sniff out a spot where the Williams boys will come lookin’ for Mischief and Mayhem. [click]

[dial tone]

Sammy Deputy Troy, folks. Now, I didn’t realize you and Troy were still so angry at one another, Ben. You can’t let that hostility clou—

Ben THANKS, DAD! — We’re just gonna take a break to hear from one of our fine sponsors. Maybe Sammy here can talk to me about the birds and the bees after we get back.

Sammy [quietly] Maybe…

[disquieting, melancholic piano music]

Soft, disquieting voice What if what you thought wasn’t really what you thought you thought? … Ever think of that? … Here at the Institute of Science, we can help you become what you’ve always wanted to become… A better you, for a better mankind! Call us today for a free brochure and a C-meter reading. That’s “C” as in “cat.” … We’re coming King Falls… Be well! … And be ready.

[piano fades out]

[S&B theme]

Sammy You’re listening to King Falls AM and we are opening up the phone lines to you. 424-279-3858.

Ben We’ll be talking about the apparent crop circle- situation at Libbydale Farms. As well as if any of you out there have had any experience with this phenomenon.

Sammy So give us a call or tweet us @kingfallsam. So, you’ve heard our story, now let’s hear yours.

Ben Line 3.

Sammy Good evening, you’re live with Sammy and Ben.

Cynthia Good evening? For who? Certainly not King Falls!

Sammy Hi, Cynthia. How ‘bout you tell us how you really feel tonight.

Cynthia Weellll, to be honessst, I’m a little rattled over these gang signs the aliens are leaving on our turf. Literally.

Ben Cynthia— there is no way to tell if those circles are- angry orrr happy! even. They’re *huff/laugh* just symbols.

Cynthia So’s a swastika, Ben Arnold. Get your head out of your tuchus!

Sammy Okay, obviously, we aren’t trying to raise alarms here, Cynthia. It’s just, uh— it’s an interesting story. Especially here in our backyard. Would you not agree? Uh, you know, it’s not every day you can see this kind of handiwork – man-made or otherwise.

Cynthia You two sound sooo happy. We’re getting tagged in an intergalactic war and all of us in the Falls are sitting around at ground zero.

Ben I- don’t think that’s fair t—

Cynthia That’s the problem! You just. don’t. think! It’s all Tim Jenson’s fault, I just know it. We didn’t have any flying saucer, land-tattooing bedlam before he chased those lights.

Ben He didn’t “chase” anything! He was driving from work and called to report on a breaking news story.

Cynthia Watch your tone, Ben. I’ll buy one of those rabid, disease-ridden sugar flyers and toss it in Lake Hatchenhaw. just to spite you!

Sammy Goodnight, Cynthia.

Ben Sugar glider. And- they are. illegal.

Cynthia So are illegal aliens, but you’re just getting ready to throw ‘em a parade! I can’t! I just can’t! [click]

[dial tone]

Sammy Heh, alright, uh… Line 12, you��re live on King Falls AM.

Emily Hi, Sammy! Hi, Ben!

Ben Emily! I–I didn’t realize you were back in town!

Emily I just got back. I was listening on the way in! My mom and I actually drove by the farm and saw all the commotion over there. Police; reporters— big lawn-mower thingies…

Ben Lawn mowers?

Sammy Uh, y’ know, if you don’t mind me asking, Emily, why were you out of town?

Emily Oh, I flew out to Buford, Wyoming,[1] for the annual small town librarian expo! And I had my mom pick me up from the airport since— Ben was on the air.

Sammy Wow. So you guys are in the taking and picking up from the airport stage of yourrr—

Ben Friendship. Is that the- word- you’re- searching for, Sammy?

Sammy [kinda smug] Thaaat was exactly the one, Ben.

Emily *soft laugh* You guys are so silly. But I just wanted to say “hi” and tell Ben I’m back home now!— Oh! And starting next week, I’ve got a whole bunch of fun activities I learned from the expo to start doing at the library! Hopefully we can get some of the scared kids back now.

Ben I’ll call you later, Emily.

Emily Goodnight, Ben! Night, Sammy!

[click, dial tone]

Sammy Emily Potter, ladies and gents. King Falls Librarian and Ben’s… Friend.

Ben [shyly] Yeah-yeah… Lucky Line 1, you’re on King Falls AM.

Greg Hey, guys! It’s Greg Frickard!

Sammy Hi, Greg! You know, we appreciate you running the ads on the show, sir. It’s so nice to meet youuu… uh, over the phone, of course.

Greg Thanks, Sammy! I— think— we’ve- talked before, and uh, glad to run the spot! Me and Granny Frickard love the show! You should hop on down to the Froggery and we’ll hook ya up!

Sammy I might have to take you up on that offer, Greg!

Greg We’d love to have you! You too, Ben…

Ben Greg, you’re a lifelong King Falls resident… w-we’ve been talking about the crop circles out at –

Greg Oh I know. I’ve been listening, but— I was actually calling about- sssomething else— if that’s okay.

Sammy Uh, yyyeah. Sure thing, Greg. What’s on your mind?

Greg Well, I heard Ben and Miss Potter a second ago and they made a— declaration of friendship? Is that correct?

Sammy Oh! U-uh. Is- this about Emily?

Ben [suspicious] Did you- call before, when Emily was in the studio, Greg?

Greg Uh, noo… *nervous laugh* that must have beeeen… somebody else. But is that true, Ben? Are you and Miss Potter just friends?

Ben [terse] Good friends. *tsk* Close. Friends… Real close.

Greg Huhhh! … Well th- okay! That’s all I needed to know! Thanks a million, buddy.

Sammy Hey— Greg. You didn’t have a comment orr—

Greg Oh, no, no! I j— *chuckles* I don’t know the first thing about crop circles and— what-have-you. Uhh, it’s real interesting and all! but- Miss Potter’s lovely voice just… [sighing dreamily] speaks to me. I always just assumed that Ben and Emily were… “bf” and “gf” respectively, *laughs* but… if that’s not the case, thennn…

Sammy Ben? You okay?

Ben I don’t like putting our— personal lives out there in the public eye…

Greg Well, gee, Ben, I’m— only asking because ifff you’re into friendship with the lovely Miss Potter, and— I’m afraid, uhhh, I might just have to be into courtship. *chuckle* Granny wants to see me married before going into the great By-and-By—

Ben Bye-bye to you too! Greg. Looks like we lost line—

Greg I’m still here, pals! Now about that thing—

Ben [click, dial tone] Line 7, you’re on King Falls AM?

Sammy Did you just hang up onnn—

Ben I would never. LINE 7.

Herschel I’d like to place a complaint, rrright this instant.

Sammy Herschel?

Ben Is everything okay, Mr. Baumgartner?

Herschel Would I call into you nincompoops if everything was hunky-dory?

Ben I guess not… No.

Sammy So, what seems to be the issue, Herschel?

Herschel All this yackin’ about G-D UFOs and crop circles, for starters. Makes my damn d[bleep]k itch.

Sammy Sir! This is—

Herschel Did you call me to tell me what to think, comrade? Or did I call you to talk about an issue?

Sammy Please continue, Mr. Baumgartner…

Herschel Thank you. So, I’m out on the lake tonight— got up brright and early, so I could make sure I got my special spot.

Ben “Got up early”? It’s— just now a little past 2…

Herschel You the sleep police?! Ya little bastard… I thought not.

Ben Sorry, Herschel.

Herschel So I’m trollin, out on the… well. That parts Top Secret, boys. But I’m trollin, so I don’t scare the bigguns away, and those g[bleep]ddamn sons of b[bleep]chin’ rainbow lights start blowin’ through the sky. Looked like Joseph’s Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat[2] was fightin’ that big Jap lizard!

Sammy Godzilla? Please don’t use derogatory wor—

Herschel McCarthy[3] would’a skinned your ass alive, you Red[4] sack ‘a sh[bleep]t! Can I tell my story?!

Sammy Of course, I’m just asking you not to—

Ben [quickly] I’m on the button. Sammy. Heh. Herschel’s gonna Herschel!

Sammy Okay. So, you saw the lights tonight…

Herschel Saw ‘em? Hell. They scared the literal piss out of me. Got a trickle down my Carhartts[5] look like the state of Florida. I’m out here naked as a jaybird! Not a fish in sight.

Ben I’m sorry, did you just reference a musical, Mr. Baumgartner?

Herschel Oh, just ‘cause I like some colorful metaphors, means I can’t be refined, Ben?!

Ben I wasn’t— I didn’t– im-imply— I’m-I’m just saying—

Herschel [softly, for Herschel] Ol’ Mrs. Baumgartner, (god rest your sexy soul, Edna), used to love those hippy-dippy singing plays. And I’d do anything to keep in those pants, fellas.

Sammy Oh, god.

Ben Awww. [pleading] Can we get back to the lights?

Herschel That Edna. Oh, lemme tell ya… Oh! Uh, yeah– the damn lights! Yeah, so, I saw ‘em. What the hell else am I supposed to tell ya about it?!

Sammy Well, you were calling to complain about them, I’m sure.

Herschel That’s right! I’d like to report that no-good drunkard! Cecil Sheffield! Called that cumbersome ass-wart damn near 15 times to come bring me a pair of skivvies to no avail! Avoiding my calls and his duties as the co-winner of this damn boat!

Ben It’s— so late, Mr. Baumgartner. I’m-I’m sure he’s sleeping now.

Herschel You would take up with him!

Sammy W-well, Ben’s just sayin’ that he isn’t avoiding you so much as he’s, you know— probably asleep.

Herschel Sleeping one off! Soggy son of a b[bleep]h. He knows if I ring the special line, it’s a damn emergency.

Ben So, you guys have made up?

Herschel Made up my ass! If he’s gonna be “co”-anything with Herschel F. Baumgartner, that tally-whacker’s gonna have to keep up his end of the bargain.

Sammy To be at your beck and call in case you… soil yourself…

Herschel Don’t be crass!

Ben So, you guys are actually sharing the boat? That’s awesome! I figured you only—

Herschel I ain’t sharin a damn thing with that son of a b[bleep]h! Stop stirrin’ the pot or I’ll make what Charlie did to John McCain look like foreplay, Ben Arnold!

Sammy So, to the point. You’re calling to complain about Cecil because he’s sleeping through your time of need?

Ben But! He is corroborating seeing the lights, Sammy! That’s a big deal.

Herschel Just have an intern or something bring me some britches and stop fiddle fu[bleep]ing fuss! 32 long! I’ll be at Begley’s. He’s probably peering out his window lookin for a damn show… I don’t like beige! [click]

[dial tone]

Sammy You’re on King Falls AM with Sammy and Ben.

Riley Please hold the line for Mayor Grisham.

Sammy This again?

Ben *groans*

Sammy You know, I wonder, do you wake him when we say special keywords, or…?

Riley Mayor? You’re on with Sammy and Ben.

Grisham Sammy. Ben. I hate to rain on your little topic of discussion tonight, but let’s shut it down. It’d be much appreciated.

Ben What??

Sammy The always-fair, Mayor Grisham, folks. Remember this come election time next year.

Grisham Do you think that a public servant should have to call the local “Tom & Joe Chucklehut Show” to ask them not to jeopardize a police investigation?

Sammy Do you ever call Channel 13 and tell them what to report and how? We are a topical late night talk show, Grisham.

Grisham Mayor.

Sammy I didn’t vote for you.

Grisham Fair enough. I don’t expect you to respect anything but your own pathetic grab for ratings. Now, regarding Channel 13—

Ben Sorry, Mayor. Obviously, Sammy is flustered. He wouldn’t have used such a bad example if he was thinking straight—

Grisham The answer to your question, Sammy, is no. I wouldn’t call in and tell a reputable news agency how to do their job. BUT, amazingly enough, I continue to have to ask you to stop your rhetoric— seemingly once a month or so. Interesting, don’t you think?

Ben You do realize the only people that watch Channel 13 are drunks that can’t find the remote and animals left alone with the TV on, right?

Grisham Whatever helps you sleep better, Ben. I can tell you for a fact that, right now, Storm Sanders is probably not working a “local yokel” interview and digging up the muck. He’s reporting on city ordinance 29.44371.

Ben Storm is knee deep in a barrel of backyard bathtub hooch during commercial breaks.

Sammy So, Mayor. What is this ordinance? Ya know, since we aren’t reporting the news to your liking, give us a glimpse into what works for you.

Grisham The add-on to the local YMCA? The new menu over at Rose’s! I’m not paid a handsome salary to do your job.

Sammy Oh, right! I forget you think you can dictate what we report on, for free.

Ben Sammy… they’re destroying the crop circles! That’s the ordinance!

Grisham There’s hope for you yet, Ben. Don’t go down with this ship. I’ll put a good word in for you elsewhere.

Sammy You son of a b[bleep]h! You’re destroying the crop circles?! That could be the only thing that brings Tim Jenson home!

Grisham Don’t bring Tim Jenson into this! The city is paying Libbydale Farms a fair share for their remaining crops! But it is in the public’s best interest to mow down this batch of mischief accordingly! Especially after this broadcast.

Sammy *derisive scoff/laugh* You are despicable.

Grisham These affairs aren’t your business to ramble on about… Do the weather! Talk about traffic! I mean, I filled those potholes! Stop making trouble!

Sammy Freedom of the Press. When your assistant isn’t typing out our every word, maybe have her look it up and tell you all about it.

Grisham I can’t wait to hear about it! And here’s a little phrase for you to look up too! OBSTRUCTION OF JUSTICE.

Sammy Uh-huh.

Grisham Do you think using your connections to officers of the law to report on “breaking news” is fine and dandy, Stevens?? *sniffs* You are perverting the course of this case. Things— especially ongoing issues— aren’t meant to be talked about until all the facts are out there! And you— *sniffs* IDIOTS are playing on the scene, reporting with your bagel-eating buddy! who happens to be a cop.

Ben *scoffs* ‘s not my buddy.

Sammy BEN.

Ben I’m not throwing you under the bus, Sammy. I just hate Troy.

Grisham So, the moral of the story would be, gents… some things require couth. Some things require kid gloves when handling. And most things don’t need to be aired in the public for ratings and entertainment. A perfect example being how, I’m sure Sheriff Gunderson will handle Deputy Krieghauser on his own, for calling into this joke of a show with police business constantly. Doubt you’ll see that done during a press conference.

Ben Uh… is that… really necessary, sir?

Grisham This show is a breeding ground for incompetence, and you’re now dragging your pals down with you. Straighten Up and Fly Right.

Sammy Troy doesn’t need to be punished for you to make your point, Grisham.

Grisham Out Of My Hands… I’ve already had Riley send my opinions on it over to the good sheriff! Now again, I ask you: pick a different topic of discussion. Maybe one that won’t lead to the continued pain and misery for all those around you. Night night, fellas! [click]

[dial tone]

Sammy [quickly] I’m gonna call Troy.

Ben Umm, uh *nervous stuttering* W-we’ll be back after this— King Falls. We’ll- we’ll take some- calls about uhh… *helpless scoff* I guess we’ll- see…

[KFAM outro]

[CREDITS]

References

[1] Buford, Wyoming - “America’s Smallest Town”, Buford is mostly just a convenience store/gas station. The population was 1-2 from ~1995 until it was completely abandoned in 2017.

[2] Joseph’s Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat - Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat is a musical comedy with lyrics by Tim Rice and music by Andrew Lloyd Webber. The story is based on the "coat of many colors" story of Joseph from the Bible's Book of Genesis.

[3] McCarthy - Joseph Raymond McCarthy was a Republican U.S. Senator from 1947 until his death in 1957. Beginning in 1950, McCarthy became the most visible public face of the “Red Scare”, a period in the United States in which Cold War tensions fueled fears of widespread Communist subversion. He is known for alleging that numerous Communists and Soviet spies and sympathizers had infiltrated the United States federal government, universities, film industry, and elsewhere.

[4] Red - Communist

[5] Carhartts - Carhartt, Inc., is a U.S.-based apparel company founded in 1889. Carhartt is known for its work clothes, such as jackets, coats, overalls, coveralls, vests, shirts, jeans, dungarees, fire-resistant clothing and hunting clothing.

[rt8815]

OC Ask Game

I was tagged by the amazing @illegalcerebral

I put a Keep Reading link because this is looong.

1) Name (and why you chose it if you like) McKinley Campbell Durand. I named her after McKinley Morganfield, better known as Muddy Waters. However, the “in universe?” reason that will be given - which I haven’t written yet - is that McKinley and Campbell are family names from a few generations back.

Campbell comes from the Gaelic words for ‘crooked’ and ‘mouth.’ I just like the name. Here’s a post (that I had to rewrite because Tumblr’s a dick and wouldn’t let me edit the typos in the original. The rewrite had typos too! Blargh!) that discusses her first and last names. I thought it would be funny for her full name to consist solely of last names.

2) Fandom and how they fit into the story Criminal Minds. She works at a D.C. museum practically around the corner from the J. Edgar Hoover building (as indicated in “Let It Bleed”). That’s a tiny hint that it’s the National Museum of African American History & Culture, but I don’t think I’ll mention it very often, if for no other reason than I’ve never been to the NMAAHC and don’t want to describe it inaccurately.

The official story is that Spencer and McKinley met at the museum (again, in “Let It Bleed,” which is probably the least favorite thing of mine that I’ve written). However, they’d met once before, and texted a few times after that. Because my brain is all over the place, and because I’m telling the story in non-chronological order, I haven’t written their first meeting yet. The only details I’ve revealed thus far are that it was nighttime in a park, McKinley caught Spencer off guard and made him fall to the ground, and whatever they talked about set Spencer straight and lifted his spirits. Also, a swingset was involved. Beyond that, I’ve inserted McKinley into the plotlines and events of the show, with necessary alterations, and there’s a ton of domestic Spencer and off-duty team stuffs.

3) Do they have any family? Biological family: daughter Sophie and son Jason; her Mom (no name yet); maternal grandparents, uncles, aunts, and cousins; and her estranged father (no name yet). Chosen/found family: husband Spencer; the BAU.

4) As a child, what did they want to be when they grew up? When she was a toddler, McKinley wanted to be a pediatrician (a doctor just for kids?! Cool!) or an ophthalmologist (she’s worn glasses practically her whole life). As an older child she aspired to be an entomologist or herpetologist. In her teenage years she considered a career in forensic pathology or criminal psychology. While earning her BA in English, she discovered that Public History was her true calling.

5) Their greatest dream To be a good Mom. To inspire learning in others.

6) Their worst nightmare Losing her family; having to see her father again.

7) Strengths Empathy, insight/self awareness, forgiving nature but knowing when to cut her losses

8) Weaknesses McKinley struggles with imposter syndrome.

She can be very mean. I mean, downright nasty cruel, verbally. This is rare though because, and I’m paraphrasing a future bit of dialogue here, anyone whose behavior could arguably warrant such a response is beneath her notice and not worth the effort. She’s more likely to close the door on someone. When she’s removed a person from her life, she is done. They become literally nothing to her. McKinley will rightly claim that this is about self-preservation and boundaries, but she really takes it to the next level.

9) What would they chose between: morning and night, sweet and savoury, beaches or meadows, cities or countryside, winter or summer, Christmas or Halloween (sorry, Spencer!), movies or TV shows, action or rom-com, clowns or vampires, stars or the moon (both!), cocktails or pints [Neither. McKinley doesn’t care for cocktails or beer. Scotch, brandy, rum, and dry wines are her poisons. She’s been known to add Kahlúah to vanilla ice cream, Baileys Irish Cream to coffee (she wants to try Drambuie next), or make hot toddies when she has a cold (obviously not mixing any alcohol with any medicine)]

10) How do they relax? Reading, or having Spencer read to her; knitting; listening to her records or playing her guitar; exercising with Boogie so she’s exhausted enough to sleep that night; baking and cooking

11) What makes them angry? Injustice, apathy/indifference, ableism, willful ignorance

12) What makes them afraid? The awful things she’d possibly do under duress; her family getting hurt or worse; spiders and other bugs that bite and/or sting

13) What is a moment from their childhood that has shaped who they are? It’s not a single event, but growing up with an abusive parent has certainly had a lifelong impact on McKinley. You’ve heard the expression “once bitten, twice shy?” She’s “once bitten, there’s no twice because you no longer exist.” She’s working on that. It’s also cultivated empathy, though, and is part of the reason she volunteers in the hospital’s rehab wing.

14) Do they have a sense of humour? Intellectual humor, pop culture references, puns/Dad jokes, science jokes. Sometimes morbid.

15) What do they value in their friends/loved ones? Honesty and empathy

16) Do they have any pets? An Aussie Collie/Border Aussie named Boogie-Woogie. He’s her first child.

17) Worst memory? Probably the day Meadows shot her and she thought she’d never see Spencer and Penny again.

18) Best memory? The days Sophie and Jason were born. Minus, y’know, the agonizing pain of labor and delivery.

19) Do they have any tattoos? (If no would they get one?) Nope and nope

20) If you could write them into another fandom, which one would you choose? If I knew the MCU better, I’d love to write her in as a Stark Tower employee! She’d be an anthropologist and would study alien societies the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D. have encountered. She’d naturally be drawn to Loki, initially in a professional capacity (they quickly discover they relate to each other on a personal level as well).

He’d first find her annoying: “Why are you pestering me, Mortal? Surely you’d rather interview my oaf of a brother?”

“No, not even remotely. He only ever wants to discuss battles he’s won. There’s so much more to Asgard and the other realms than that. I want - I need - to learn your literature, your science, your culture and history. You’re well versed in all of these subjects and you’re an excellent teacher.”

He stares at her impassively over his mug of tea, but his heart - that Judas of an organ - flutters slightly at the compliment. And how can he say no to a fellow scholar?

“I prefer your company to Thor’s too. You have this calming presence. Thor’s sweet but he’s also obnoxiously loud and brash and he always hugs me even though I keep telling him I don’t like it. And he’s constantly swinging his hammer around, which makes me think he’s overcompensating for something.”

Loki nearly chokes on his tea. Yes, this mortal is considerably more tolerable than others.

“Very well. Friday evenings at 6:00, my chambers. Arrive late and suffer my wrath.”

From that day forward, whenever Thor tries to hug her, he gets mildly electrocuted.

Did I accidentally sorta kinda write a drabble? Would anyone be interested in making this a collab? That’s what they’re called, right? (Can you tell I’ve given this some thought? Haha! I have even more details in my head.)

21) Do they like their job? (What else would they do if they could?) She loves it! Hmmm, what else…? A librarian maybe. Or animate and produce an educational cartoon series.

22) What is their sexuality? Demisexual

23) Do they believe in love at first sight? Soulmates? One true love? McKinley believes in “seeing the potential for a good relationship at first conversation.”

Yes, although she feels that term has become overused and poorly redefined.

People can find love again after it’s been lost.

24) What music do they listen to? Has that changed over time? I actually recently answered an ask about this. Yes, she grew up on what passed for country in the ‘90s. God help her, she had a boyband phase in junior high.

25) Can they cook? What food do they love? McKinley does pretty well in the kitchen. She loves a wide variety of food. She grew up in the south, so tons of carbs/comfort foods. She loves Thai, Japanese, and Indian food. She cooks up Middle Earth-inspired dishes (ha! nerd). She’s especially proud of a seed cake she bakes.

26) What are their hopes for the future? For her family to be healthy, safe and happy. To be debt free.

27) How do they react to being threatened? It’s a coin flip. McKinley might curl up like an armadillo and hope the predator gets bored and leaves, or she might kick the stool out from under them and cause their chin to slam into the bar and crack several teeth.

28) What is their love language? McKinley and Spencer both exhibit the Acts of Service love language, because just saying “I love you” isn’t enough. You ought to show it. She’ll randomly bake doughnuts for Spencer or play guitar for him in bed, and he’ll take care of laundry, dishes, and any other chores he sees need doing.

Quality Time is important for them too. Once a month, Luke and Penny babysit so Spencer and McKinley have a day alone together. It doesn’t really matter what they do. The point is it’s just them.

It caught McKinley by surprise how much she enjoys physical affection, given that she can be touch averse but holy moly she was more touch starved than she realized. She lives for snuggles and makeout sessions and playing with each others’ hair. When one of them doesn’t want to be touched, they hook their pinkies together.

29) What do they find most challenging in relationships? At work? In general? At work she struggles to gain her colleagues’ respect (think “Boy Genius” treatment except she has lady bits). In general, she struggles with trusting people.

30) What do you as a creator love best about writing this character? Giving her everything I wish I had but don’t.

Bonus: Include a link to your favourite work with this OC or write a small drabble.

October 12, 2021

Warm sunlight filtered through the curtains, gently rousing Spencer from a pleasant sleep. Just when he’d decided to get up, he felt the mattress dip behind him and his wife’s breath fanning over his ear.

“Who’s the birthday boy?” whispered McKinley.

Spencer smiled softly but feigned being asleep.

“Who’s the birthdaaay boooy?” she repeated, bouncing slightly.

“The good-looking guy to your left?”

“Happy Birthday!” she laughed, pressing kisses along his neck, suddenly shifting the mood from playful to sexy.

“Would the birthday boy like his birthday present?” she asked as she lifted the covers.

“Well, look at that - it’s already unwrapped!”

[multsicorn]

multsicorn’s infinite fic playlist

some friends in a chat were talking about comfort fic!  so I have Made A List.  Ten of my very favorite fics to reread when I need a boost, in ten different fandoms.  In no order.  And with no particular theme, that I can tell.  They’re probably all more-or-less mostly self-contained enough to work even if you don’t know the canon?  Certainly the Hockey RPF fic is (cause I don’t know anything about the canon there!), and who doesn’t know HP, etc....

.... four are about fucked-up families, (cause I find that cathartic, and people dealing with it comforting), two are polyfic, (because more relationships interacting to me means ~more love~), three are really mostly about the ~feel~ of the universe, (the fun mundanity of a not-quite-mundane canon universe! or of a perfectly balanced space au), and then the last one is... about how to know if you’re in love on one side of it, and about how to get over it on the other (because how does one romance).

the ones about fucked-up families:

When The Lights Go Out, Will You Take Me With You? by narceus (Glee, Kurt/Blaine, m, ~11k).  I love the way that it punches out my heart and then puts it back together?  Lmao, that’s very personal.  But I love the way that - what can I say.  This isn’t a fic about romance, it’s a fic about family - well.  How sometimes your family is your boyfriend, and your mutual friends, how sometimes ‘family’ is something you have to leave, and real family is something you build.  ‘This is exactly what it’s like,’ and it’s wish-fulfillment, and, yes, somehow it’s both of those things.

You can run away with me any time you want.

Come Marching Home by ossapher (American Revolution RPF/Hamilton, Hamilton/Laurens, t, ~9k).  Fraught relationships with family members who think they love you but they really really don’t are my jam, and the way that this fic deals with a younger still-dependent sibling who’s caught in the middle between John and his horrible father is especially my jam.  Also, fics that transform a complicated set of characters/relationships/etc. from canon to a completely other setting thoughtfully, which this fic ‘verse has a lot of fun with.

John Laurens attempts to reconcile with his U.S. Senator dad after years of minimal contact. It's family, though, so nothing goes as planned.

Theft of Assets, Destruction of Property by Helenish (Harry Potter, Draco/Neville, e, ~23k).  I love the way that Draco here builds a life up out of nothing.  It’s very cozy from one angle, full of cooking and baking and making a house a home, but it also goes hard on the way that abused children will internalize their situation as the expected baseline of life, which I appreciate very much.

Surely it is a mistake to allow a single youthful indiscretion to cloud an already promising career.

A Month of Sundays by Kelfin (Hockey RPF, Erik Johnson/Gabriel Landeskog, m, ~69k).  I love the push-pull of a relationship that naturally slides very quickly into something very close and intimate, that keeps being pulled back from that by Erik’s internalized homophobia.  I love the way the story negotiates the very real knock-on effects of that on Gabe, his maybe-maybe-not partner, and the way the Erik negotiates ‘I love my family... but they don’t love me.’

Unlike some guys, who freak out when things get even a little bit gay, Erik is fine with this stuff. Erik's not even fazed when Gabe's attempts at flirting with him start to get semi-public, a fact that, by his own judgment, makes him at least five to seven times more tolerant than your average forward-thinking American.

the polyfics:

Everything That You Can Keep by Dira Sudis (dsudis) (Vorkosigan Saga, Aral/Jole, backgroundy Aral/Cordelia, e, ~30k).  I love this story’s negotiation of not just polyamory (and I love negotiation of polyamory stories - how two people in one relationship share feelings about yet another person, and figure things out? yes, please), but specifically of all the added complications that come out in the highly hierarchical, secretive, and loyalty-based Vor society.  When even asking about asking is a matter of trust, requested and given?  That goes straight to my id.

The impossible takes a little more time, a lot of negotiation.

Love: The Package Deal by jjtaylor (Bandom, Frank/Gerard/Lindsey/Jamia, m, ~30k).  I love the way that the different relationships are layered over and relate to each other - that’s one of the big things I like about polyfic - and the way that the amnesia smashes them together by bringing a past relationship to the present, while making the present one abstract and back to square one.  I love how the amnesia in fact smashes together all the highs and lows of eventful years’ worth of Gerard’s life: artistic success, problems with drugs and addiction... they’re all right there waiting for you.

Gerard gets a special kind of amnesia. Frank gets to reexamine his idea of acceptable relationship structures. Lots of people fail to communicate effectively, but they all sure remember how to kiss.

the cozy weirdness of the universe:

it's a new craze by attheborder (Good Omens, Aziraphale/Crowley, t, ~6k).  The development of the relationship strikes a nice balance between angst and sweetness, but what I really come back to this fic for is the fictional advice podcast!  That Aziraphale and Crowley start together, which it’s about, and the way that they sprinkle their up-close experience of history into their discussion on it - and then the way that the fandom latches onto and tries to make sense of that.  It is just, purely, A DELIGHT.

CROWLEY: I try not to make a habit of gratitude, but I must give our appreciation to everyone out there who’s been listening and subscribing to The Ineffable Plan. AZIRAPHALE: Ooh, yes, we’ve become quite popular, haven’t we? CROWLEY: Yeah, just hit number eight on the advice charts … No advertising at all. AZIRAPHALE: Mm. How … miraculous. CROWLEY: … Aziraphale. You did not.

***

Crowley and Aziraphale are very possibly the people least qualified, on the entire planet, to start up an advice podcast.

But what else is there to do when the world isn’t ending anytime soon, you’re technically on indefinite sabbatical from your lifelong careers, and you need a plausible excuse to spend more time with your best friend who you’re definitely not, absolutely not, maybe just a little, actually maybe overwhelmingly in love with?

A Resolution of Territory by arboretum (Hikaru no Go, Hikaru/Akira, e, ~10k).  I just love imagining spending my life playing Go, okay!  This fic is wonderfully immersive in a weird-but-good everyday reality, of spending your whole life immersed in a game that just fascinates you, alongside your friends - and your boyfriend, too, which is to say, the one person who shares your fascination in the most direct and deepest and mutually obsessive way.  Eventually he’s your boyfriend, of course.

The point is, life is hectic, but it's good.

The Vastness of Space by shysweetthing (Yuri on Ice, Victor/Yuuri, e, ~17k).  I love the way that the space setting here gives scope for best-friends-and-partners, for cute and amusing low-stakes shenanigans and then cleverly solved higher-stakes adventure.  I love how sweet Victor and Yuuri are in caring for each other in dire circumstances, and why they both see each other as beyond their reach in the context of this imagined world.

As chief communications officer on board the Interstellar Alliance Fleet’s Star Ship Victory, Yuuri doesn’t have to think about who he actually is on his home planet. He just has to listen to his captain, do his job, and…not fall in love with his best friend, the ship’s science officer, Victor Nikiforov.

Well. Two out of three’s not bad.

Then his mother calls with the worst possible news: She, the Empress of New Nihon, has arranged Yuuri’s marriage. There’s only one thing Yuuri can do: Fake a boyfriend, and fake one fast. Who better/worse to play that role than the friend he wishes was more? What can go wrong? It’s not like Yuuri can fall more in love...

the how does romance (with my beloved controversial otp):

if you change your mind by leetlebird (Check, Please!, Jack/Parse, e, ~35k).  I love the way this story shows Jack trying to work out what love means for him, anyway, and Kent learning to deal with and work around feelings that he thinks for most of the story are unrequited.  And the cozy jury-rigged domesticity of especially the final chapters/scenes.

Beneath the table, Jack’s hand squeezes around Kent’s knee. And -- Kent forgets. For just a few seconds, he forgets that they can’t be together, that Jack doesn’t want him in that way, that he’s trying to move on.

“We’re friends, right?” Jack says.

“Yeah, Zimms,” he says. “We’re friends.”

Or: Kent and Jack are friends, then friends-with-benefits, then maybe something more. Kent isn’t sure.