#oh my pals i did not expect this of my friday but here we are

[landwriter]

13!

Shut Up by Stormzy.

Hob is a literature professor. Dream is an underground electronic music artist who goes by Morpheus. They never would've met. Never would've even known about each other.

Except. Hob is bit addicted to Twitter. Except. Hob has a bit shit taste in music. Except. A student cancels her presentation because she got last-minute tickets to a Morpheus show and Hob looks him up and gets irrationally mad at a stupid skinny little goth that doesn't even play any real instruments or sing and whose photo of a sneaker drop, whatever that is, got a thousand retweets within hours.

This is the story of how Hob sends a petty tweet and then sort-of-accidentally starts iconic Twitter beef with Dream.

Death, acclaimed hip-hop artist and meddling older sister, is delighted by a random man in a sweater-vest rudely insulting her brilliant baby brother, and insists on catching up with Dream so they can collab on a diss track, because it'll be very interesting. Hob finds out about it at a lecture and plays it in front of his whole class. It's clever and funny and absurdly referential. He falls a little bit in love with the wrong person, because he thinks the lyrics are Death's.

He slides into Dream's DMs to tease him about his older sister to protecting him (and maybe ask for her number), and Dream cops to writing it. Hob reacts with so much earnest wonder that he has to swiftly follow it with calling Dream a pretentious cunt, just to balance things out. They continue talking, under the flimsy auspices of being mean to each other.

One day, Dream video calls him while stuck at an airport, wearing stupid glasses and a stupid hat like a some kind of celebrity traveling incognito - because he sort of is, Hob belatedly realizes - and that's when he sees Dream laugh for the first time. It's because of him. He realizes he wants to kiss the stupid skinny little goth. Wants Dream to be his stupid skinny little goth. Has no idea how to do that. He pines. Dream pines.

When there's a show playing near Hob, Dream sends him a VIP ticket, day-of, with no other message or context. Hob goes, of course, feeling tremendously uncool at the venue. But during the show he finally understands, in a way he didn't before, how Dream pulls whole worlds to life with his music, how he weaves something new and incredible from samples alone. How he tells stories without words.

After, awed, he goes backstage, and almost regrets it when he has to face half of Dream's entourage, whose ruthless teasing is absolutely secret screening to see if he's Good Enough For Our Morpheus, but he gives as good as he gets, and, unable to bear it any longer, Dream tells them all to fuck off. Then it's just them, and Dream makes some vulnerable little joke about whether Hob still thinks it's not real music, but Hob is just standing there, bluescreened before the sight of this man, who he wants to be his, who he's spent hours with online, who he's never even touched, so human and real suddenly. Dream is flushed and sweaty and a bit of his hair is plastered to his forehead. The energy of the crowd is still glowing underneath his skin. Hob is hapless. Hob can only think to ask to kiss him. So he asks, and that's how their first time ends up being in a shitty little greenroom in Manchester. And their second. The third, at least, is in Dream's hotel.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

One For The Road [4]

Cecil Dennis x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• ko-fi •

Series Masterlist

Summary: Cecil calls you late at night

A/N: Another huge thank you to @thexsanctuaryx for beta reading again, making some excellent suggestions, and putting up with meeeeee <3

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, mentions of weed, catching feelings, oral sex (afab!receiving), jerking off, p in v sex (with a condom), vibrators, swearing, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 3073

I Thought It Was Dark Outside

Cecil: “Do you want to come over on Friday night?” 

You: “You got new porn recommendations for me?”

Cecil: “You want some?” 

You: “Maybe.” 

Cecil: “I was thinking we could do something a little different?” 

You: “Such as?” 

Cecil sends you a video. The preview image is black. 

Cecil: “This could be inspiration maybe?” 

You pause for a moment before you click the video. The second it starts you’re glad it’s late and you are on your own tucked up in bed. Not on public transport or at work. 

It’s, unsurprisingly, semi-professional porn. 

A woman is bouncing on a guy's cock, her hand squeezing his neck as he whines underneath her. 

You: “Is that what you’re into? Getting choked?” 

Cecil takes a few minutes to reply. 

Cecil: “Yeah.” 

Cecil: “I’m into lots of stuff.”

Cecil: “Is that okay?” 

You: “Yep.” 

Cecil: “Good. You don’t have to choke me or anything if you don’t want to, I was just thinking if you’d like to fuck on a bed?”

Cecil: “My bed?” 

You snort, unable to not find his texts weirdly endearing. 

You: “I like how formal you’re being.” 

Cecil: “Yeah? Or are you joking? Tone is hard over text.” 

He doesn’t give you a chance to reply this time before your phone vibrates with another message. 

Cecil: “And that’s not the only thing that’s hard.” 

Cecil: “Get it?” 

You: “Your dick?” 

Cecil: “You wanna see?” 

You smile. 

You: “Sure.” 

You expect a photo, maybe a little video. But instead, Cecil video calls you. 

After the small beat of surprise, you giggle and accept the call. 

“Hi Cec,” you smile. 

“Hi,” he whines. He’s laying in bed, his face and part of his bare chest taking up the frame. His phone shakes slightly and from the sounds it’s obvious that he’s jerking himself off out of frame. 

“You having fun?” You tease. 

He pouts. “Got horny.” 

“Aw, did you?” 

He pulls a face and you giggle. 

Cecil grins, his facade breaking for a second before he reschools his face into a puppy dog expression. “Your fault.” 

You snort. “How is it my fault?”

“Talking to you, got hard.” 

Heat runs under your skin. “Show me.” 

He bites his lip and there is a manic moment where he scrambles to change the camera from front facing to back one handed, which makes you smile. 

His cock is hard against his stomach, the tip red and swollen. He’s squeezing the base lightly, but not moving. 

You lick your lips. “Aww, Cec…” You say softly and he whimpers. “Having trouble because I’m not there to take care of you?” You try your best to make your voice sound vaguely neutral and fail miserably. 

“Yes.” He whines, and you can hear the over the top sulk in his voice. 

“Want me to come and sit on it?” 

The jab is playful and anything but serious, but his cock twitches before your eyes on the screen and he groans. 

“Pleeeaseee,” he swallows, giving one slow jerk. His stomach muscles quivering under the strain. “Please, god, fuck, Harry isn’t here right now, he’s at Mary-Ann’s tonight. You could, you could stay over and-” He moans as he shallowly thrusts into his hand. “Please, you could, we could-fuck- I mean definitely fuck. I won’t even come until you get here. Please?” 

You pause, conflicted. Part of you really wants to tease him, to mess with him and watch until he spurts all over his tummy and whimpers in that oh so sweet way. 

The other really wants to be in the same room as him right now. 

You glance at the time on your phone. 23:49. This would be a booty call, wouldn’t it? 

Though at this time, it would barely take ten minutes to drive to his house. 

Fuck it. 

“Okay.” 

You barely get the word out before Cecil is uttering a stream of ‘thank yous.’

“But.” 

He stops talking quickly, a little snap echoes as he sharply closes his mouth. 

“I want you to come now. Otherwise, you’ll get too excited when you see me and’ll probably bust a nut on the spot.” 

Cecil giggles, but starts jerking off straight away, his laughter quickly turning into moans. If you hadn’t already heard him several times in previous situations, you would say he was putting it on a little. Purposefully sounding as pornographic as possible. But that was just Cecil, he couldn’t be anything but loud. 

“I would,” he manages to get out through his cries of pleasure. “You’re so smart, I totally, totally would just see you and jizz, fuck, you really gonna come over and see me?” His voice breaks a little at the end and so does a little piece of your heart. 

How many times had people lied to him? 

How many times had others broken promises? 

“I am, the second you finish.”

He whines. His hips slamming up into his fist, the slap, slap, slap of skin echoing around your room. 

“Cecil.” 

“Yes,” the word is strained, breathless.

“I wanna see you when you come, want to see your face.” You haven’t even finished your sentence but already Cecil is rapidly changing the camera. 

He looks so wrecked, his eyes glazed over. He softly whimpers your name, biting his lip. “Gonna come.” 

“Good.” 

He moans loudly, convulsing and nearly dropping the phone with the force of his orgasm. He shudders, breathing hard and pressing the back of his head to his pillow as his muscles tense and relax. 

You’ve never seen anything more beautiful. 

“That was so nice.” He mumbles and then, instead of changing the camera, just twists the phone around to show you the mess of cum on his stomach. 

You grin. “Very good Cecil.” 

“Oh fuck.” He shivers and giggles when he turns the phone back to face him, “Don’t– you’ll make me come again.” 

You snort. “You got a praise kink?” 

He rolls his eyes playfully. “Duh, of course.” 

You laugh and look at him for a moment, really focusing this time. There are faint bags under his eyes and his eyes themselves are red. “You high?” 

He shakes his head.

“Drunk?” 

“Nope, haven’t drunk or smoked or taken any delicious mind altering substances today.” He gives you a sincere smile. 

Maybe he’s just tired. 

Maybe he’d been crying.

You push that thought away quickly. 

“You sure you want me to come over?” 

He nods quickly, “Please– only if you want to, I mean, but, I’d really like to see you. We don’t have to do anything, well, you could just sit on my face for a few hours.” 

You bark out a laugh. “A few hours?” 

“I know,” he nods, all fake seriousness, “Not long enough….” 

“You dork.” 

“You love me for it,” he beams. 

“Yeah, sure.” You smile. “I’ll be over in ten. And no getting dressed.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He mock salutes. But you get the feeling he likes it more than he is letting on. 

.

—-----------------------------------------------

The drive takes 8 minutes. A new personal record, and no speed limits were broken either.

You’ve barely knocked on the door, your knuckles just grazing the wood, before it’s thrown open dramatically. 

Cecil beams at you, ushering you in. He’s wearing a dark blue towel bathrobe that he takes off in a flourish the second the door is closed. “It’s me, Anastasia.” He flounces his arms to the side, mimicking the cartoon character. He’s completely naked, his semi cock bobs comically as he moves.

You giggle at him, kissing his cheek and then his lips. His grin widens, happiness flowing off him in waves as he wraps his arms around you. His skin is warm and he smells like coconut body wash, obviously having taken a quick shower before you got here. 

“I’m so glad you came.” He nuzzles into your neck, littering any skin he can reach with kisses. 

“Me too. Thank you for inviting me.”

He tuts and squeezes a fraction tighter, “You are always welcome. Literally, just come over whenever.”

A spark of warmth settles in your chest. “Yeah, well, you gotta deal with me in my pyjamas now.”

He pulls back a second, still grinning like an overly excited puppy and biting his plump bottom lip. “This is the sexiest outfit I have ever seen.” 

You laugh, but there’s a sincerity in his expression that makes you stand a little straighter. 

“But,” he wiggles his eyebrows, “You know where it would look even better?” 

“On your bedroom floor?” You snort.

“No,” he gives you a look of mock shock, “On me. It would look better on me, but you need to take it off first.” 

You chuckle, “You’re so silly.” 

“You love it… I hope?” 

“I love it.” You reassure him and stroke his cheek. 

He kisses your wrist, nuzzling into your touch and sighing happily. Slowly he inches closer, once again wrapping his arms around you, “Come to bed with me?” He poked out his bottom lip and blinks rapidly. 

“Stop,” you try to groan but can’t stop the fit of giggle the expression causes. You gently push at his cheek. “That face is terrible.”

He blinks harder. 

“Cec!” You shake your head grinning and he leans forward kissing you deeply and slipping his tongue past your lips. 

The way he softly leads you upstairs somehow feels so uncharacteristically characteristic, sweet and caring despite the raging boner he’s sporting. He barely takes his lips off your skin and you're a little surprised he doesn’t fall up the steps in the process. 

His room is suspiciously tidy, and freshly vacuumed, which makes you smile. However, you don’t get very long to admire it before Cecil pulls you towards the bed, his hands sliding greedily under your top and groaning when he realises you're not wearing a bra. 

“Oh, fuck yeah.” He helps you out of it quickly and sits on the edge of the bed. He palms your breasts eagerly, staring like he’d just found the holy grail before he gently kisses them, sucking one nipple into his mouth and then the other. 

Your breathing hitches as you lean into him, lightly arching your back and sinking your fingers into his hair. 

“Shit, Cecil…” You swallow and he groans, whining softly as he sucks. Pleasure twists and sparks down to your core, settling in a deep untenable ache that you crave for him to soothe. 

He laps at your right breast with the flat of his tongue as he hooks his fingers under your waistband and pulls the rest of your clothing down. 

Slowly he pulls back, holding your hands as he helps to steady you as you step out of your pyjamas. His eyes are lidded, glazed with arousal as he takes you in and squeezes his balls to just take the edge off. 

He groans lowly, saliva shining on his lips as he looks up at you with those big doe eyes. “Come and sit on my face?” Cecil shuffles back fully onto the bed, laying down with his head propped with pillows before he gives you a sweet, beseeching look. 

You nod, climbing after him. Despite having been in a similar position before a sense of anxiety drapes along your skin, the times previously were rushed or accidental, things that you could argue were casual. The unplannedness of this should add to that. Should mean nothing. 

He runs his hands up your thighs eagerly as you settle into position, urging you to partially suffocate him with your core. 

He hums, licking his lips eagerly as he looks up at you and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him this happy before. 

Lightly, he tugs at your hips, pulling you closer and darting out his tongue to swipe the tip through your folds and circle your clit. “God, you taste so good.” He groans and repeats the movement with the broad flat of his tongue.

You gasp, grabbing hold of his headboard to steady yourself as he keeps licking, in long steady strokes. 

“Fuck, just use me please.” He mutters, sucking on your clit and pulling you down against him completely. He moans when you do, echoing your sound of pleasure with his. 

For a split second you forget how to move, so overwhelmed with the sensation of his thick, warm tongue. But then he grips your hips and rocks you slightly, encouraging you to find your own rhythm. 

Expletives fall out of your mouth, mixed with his name like a prayer as you grind against him, your thighs shivering and muscles tensing as you chase your peak. 

Cecil moans, slurping at your slick and pulling you closer with every circle of your hips. His balls tighten, the sounds of your cries and heavy breathing settle in the base of his spine. His eyes roll back as the pressure at the root of his cock builds, he squirms his legs, desperately thrusting upwards into nothing as he searches mindlessly for relief. 

He flicks the tip of his tongue, trying to slip deeper inside and curling until you scream, the sensation paralysing you with pleasure. You hang onto the headboard as it washes over you, leaving you weak and shaky as you breathe hard. 

Awkwardly you move back off him, worried that you might have cut off his air supply. 

“Oh fuck,” Cecil whines, breathing as heavily as you were, he looks at you and smiles. “I nearly came too, fuck. God, you sound so fucking sexy when you come, taste so good too.” He climbs over to you, kissing your cheeks and neck and pushing his face in between your breasts and breathing deeply. 

“You wanna fuck? Or you wanna nap?” He gives you a sweet look, and you’re very sure he would be content to wrap you in blankets and snuggle up for the night if you said the latter. 

“Fuck please.” You grin when he beams, excitement plastering his features. 

“I’m warning you,” he jumps out of bed and riffles through his side table drawers. “I’m not gonna just plough you.”

You snort. “Ever the romantic.” 

“No, I mean,” he grins, running a hand through his hair. “No, I mean, I’m probably gonna last less than a second if I just try to do the normal routine, you’re just so pretty and hot and I know you’re gonna feel so nice.” He whines a little at the end and shakes his head, “sorry, I, I’m gonna try not to just,” he mimics an explosion and you giggle. 

“If you gotta you gotta, you know I’ve been with guys who didn’t even try to get me off beforehand, so.” 

He pulls a face, “Where’s the fun in that?” 

You shrug. 

He finds what he was looking for in the drawer and climbs back onto the bed. “Those guys suck.” He unwraps the condom with his teeth and slides it onto himself before he fiddles with something in his hands. It’s small and metal and you don’t realise what it is until he switches it on and it buzzes into life.

“Why do you have a bullet vibrator?” You laugh. 

“For this.” He grins and wiggles his eyebrows at you as he settles between your thighs and notches his cock at your entrance. He pauses, biting his lip, his eyes darting up from your pussy to your face. “Is this okay?”

He waits for you to nod, giving you the most brilliant smile before he slowly pushes in.

“Ohhh shiiiiiiiit,” he groans, inching in and then pausing to gather himself before he continues. He swallows and circles your clit with his thumb, the lube from the condom mixing with your slick, before he presses the vibrator to your bundle of nerves. He moves it lightly, mirroring the pattern he drew with his fingers seconds before.

He gasps when you jump, “Oh, fuck, maybe a bad idea? I can feel the vibrations through you and you're squeezing me so hard.” He whines at the end. 

You swallow, little moans escaping your lips as he finally pushes completely inside. You’d underestimated how thick he’d feel, how he’d stretch you so perfectly. The pleasure is so high it’s almost to the point of pain. 

“Okay, okay, okay,” he breathes hard, shifting a little to get comfortable. “Gonna make you come again, yeah? Please?” 

“Cecil,” you whine, rocking softly against him as the vibrator sends shivers through your nerves. 

“Can I?” 

You nod, “Please, please, please. Need you to, just move.” You buck against him and he hisses. 

“No, no, no, we're just gonna stay like this and,” he shifts, leaning down so he can kiss you, one hand awkwardly pressed between your bodies to keep the vibrator in place. 

He slips his tongue into your mouth greedily, drinking down your moans as he rolls his hips, barely pulling out. 

You grab onto him for dear life, tugging at his shoulders as you move with him, matching his hypnotising pace. 

Sweat beads and slides between your bodies as each of your movements start to grow more frantic and desperate. 

He rolls his hips and the way he drags and presses against you hits a spot inside that sends a jolt of electricity through your limbs. 

Your cry is muffled by his lips, but still powerful. 

Cecil gasps, his spine arching. “Oh, fuck, fuck, that good?” He bites his lip, his brow pinched together in concentration as he focuses on repeating his thrust perfectly. 

You grab at him, unable to form words as he hits it again, suffocating in the sensation. 

“God, that's good, right? You’re, fuck, you’re fucking pulsating around me, oh!” He groans, snapping his hips, unable to hold himself back any longer. 

He whines, low and needy as he thrusts, rapidly, your name falling from his lips with every breath. “I can't, I can't, I can't-”

You tense, your head thrown back in a silent scream as your orgasm rips along your spine leaving only ashes in its wake. 

Cecil groans, high-pitched as you tense and spasm around him. It barely takes him a second to follow you, spilling violently in the condom. 

He collapses on top of you, blinking hard and then struggling to get off you, “Sorry, sorry, sor-”

You grab him by the back of the neck and pull him into a long, sweet kiss. 

He sighs happily, relaxing against you. “That was really nice.” He mumbles. “Can I make you pancakes in the morning?”

Thank you for reading!

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[vivispec]

Happy Friday! I loved the flower prompts! For anyone you want: snapdragons or bird-of-paradise?

i have just been sitting on these for WEEKS because i've been too busy to post, but i did both! the first (snapdragons, deception, "the hell do you mean?") is a bit of my inqy Viera with her mentor as an adolescent, causing mischief, and the second (bird-of-paradise, excitement, "you've got to come see this!") is her and her childhood bestie, Nuarehn, out climbing trees as da'len. thank you so much!

@dadrunkwriting Viera & Lasafel words: 753

Viera & Nuarehn words: 821

“What do you mean, you were the one who stole Tuath’s bow?” 

Viera shuffled her feet where she stood. “I mean just that,” she repeated, avoiding his eyes in favor of the tree at her mentor’s back. “I did it, I stole it. She was right.”

Lasafel dragged a hand down his face, taking a few steps away to steady his nerves. “Oh, Mythal watch over us both.” It wasn’t everyday one’s apprentice drew the ire of the clan’s own Warleader, a bramble thicket of a woman already—though, with Viera, it definitely was beginning to feel that way. “I defended you, when she said you’d done it.”

“I know,” she sniffed, “It’s why I’m telling you.”

“Mind telling me why, then, you stole it in the first place?”

Her arms crossed, and he eyed the adolescent as she seemed to wage war against her tongue, an indignant set to her jaw, and a knot in her brow. “She just…she thinks she’s so much better than everyone. And not just because she’s a Hahren,” she finally loosed, nose wrinkling, “like, just because her family is so good at hunting, nobody else is even worth her time.”

“Yeah,” Lasafel scoffed, “she’s as pleasant as the ass end of a halla—but that isn’t anything new. Why did you do it now, of all times?”

Silence. Her fingers scratched at her upper arm repetitively beneath his scrutiny, nearly drawing him enough to miss the waver to her voice. “I hate her,” she confessed, and turned her face away, blinking just a few too many times for him not to notice. “I hate her. She isn’t my lethallan.”

The words weren’t of any use in answering his question, but her actions more than sufficed as she looked pointedly to the sky, and took measured breaths. Not only was Tuath her lethallan, she was, as of only this week, much more. After discovering that she and Tuath’s son, Iloniyn, were of one soul, Viera had become in effect a daughter of Tuath—at least, by clan standards—but what was expected and what was true were often at odds. Lasafel had no doubt that things had changed, but he also got the sense it wasn’t in the way it was supposed to. 

“Where did you put it?”

“What?”

“Where did you put her bow?”

“Lasafel, if I return it to her now, she’s never going to—”

“I know.” Slowly, he’d drawn closer, tilting his head to try and catch her eye. When still she wouldn’t look at him, he reached to grip her shoulder, gently. “I know you, too, and I’m sure whatever she said warranted it. But the clan’s leaving tonight, through some pretty rough territory. However we feel, we need her, undistracted.” 

He could feel the rise and fall of her breath, slow and metered. She chewed on her lip, resistant, but she did eventually nod. With a squeeze, he continued. 

“Here’s what we’re going to do. You know how Ebrin’s head is stuck in the foliage? Always misplacing his tools, leaving projects half-finished to start something new?” Viera nodded again. “I’ll find a good time to slip it into his things, make it look like he forgot it somewhere.”

“I don’t want him to get in trouble.”

“He’s the Craftmaster, Vie, the Keeper won’t bother to so much as scold him for it. And he knows how to handle his sister. He’ll be fine. You, on the other hand, don’t need any more trouble with Tuath than you already have.” Releasing her he leaned back on his heels, and dug through the pouch at his belt. “In the meantime, you give this to Darageal for me—she’ll know what it means—and do anything she says.”

She studied the broken arrowhead in his palm, as if she’d eaten something that hadn’t sat well on her stomach. With a sigh, however, she did relent, reaching a gloved hand forward for him to drop it into. “It’s to the north,” she mumbled, “in a sack in a big fir tree, the one where the river splits west.”

“Good.” He tightened the cinch of his pouch, before patting her solidly across the back. “We’ll talk after it's all shaken out, alright? Can’t have you distracted on the trail tomorrow, either. Until then, you’re the perfect hunter’s apprentice, hear me? No sneaking out, no bothering the hahren, and, Creators sake, no more—”

“I hear!” she cut in, “I hear,” before adding, softer, “...thank you.”

“Anytime, da’shielan,” he said, and meant. “Just…not too often, alright?”

—

“Rehn, hurry up! You have to see this!”

The boy paused where he hung precariously, white-knuckle gripping the branch he’d been attempting to clamber over, and looked up at the voice calling to him. His heart leapt as he tilted his head back and found her through the foliage, bare toes and heels peeking from her footwraps, but it was better than looking down. 

He shuddered, and swallowed the unpleasant taste rising in his throat. Anything was better than looking down.

She always did this, rushing ahead before he’d any hope of catching up. He didn’t even like climbing trees. Waiting until his balance evened, Nuarehn gingerly lifted one hand over his head to grip tight the next limb, and shakily pulled himself to stand. “I’m trying,” he whined, “but I can’t go faster. I’m going to fall again.”

It wasn’t his fault he wasn’t good at it, she just made it look easy. Above his head Viera swung her legs, the leaves of her perch trembling with laughter as they joined in with her giggles. “You won’t fall. And even if you did, we're not that high up. Now, quick, before it's gone! You’re gonna miss it!”

“Miss what, exactly?” 

“It’s all gold, but just like the ocean, and the clouds are like…they’re…the light, it’s reaching out like this—”

Whatever motion she was making he couldn’t catch through the foliage, but he was close now, enough that her movements sent vibrations up from the bark and through his palms. Just a little more. Again he hoisted himself up, straddling the branch just beneath hers, but her own was just out of his reach. He’d need to stand, and wedge his foot in the fork where the trunk split. 

It’s just…just one more. I can do one more. He dug his fingers into the bark, but it did little to stabilize him. It…it might not even hurt. Vie said it wasn’t high, so maybe…maybe…

His eyes flicked down. Viera had lied.

Nuarehn gasped, spreading his arms to hug the trunk; the shock of fear running up through his legs unsteadied him, however, and he stumbled. He teetered a moment in between falling, lurching forward and backwards as he struggled for balance, before finally it slipped away from him entirely. Arms flailing wildly he fell back, a cry barely escaping his throat as he reached out—

And was caught, just barely, by the grasp of another.

“See?” Viera grunted through her teeth, stretching out on her belly to reach for him with both hands, and gripping the branch tight between her thighs. “I told you…you wouldn’t fall. Now stop wiggling.”

The involuntary kicking of his feet slowed until eventually she could wrestle him up, close enough to grab something solid. Bit by bit she pulled, working up his arm until his hands were beneath him, not above, and he could sit beside her. Heaving heavy breaths, the two looked at each other, blinking away sweat and, in Nuarehn’s case, the prickling tears like little brambles that had jumped to his eyes.

Then, a smile split Viera’s face, and her gasps sounded more and more like laughter, until she had thrown her head back. She kicked her feet, and Nuarehn braced himself as his world shook.

“The look on your face—” she was interrupted by her own snort, electing instead to wait until her giggles had resolved before continuing. “You really thought I was gonna let you fall, didn’t you?”

He felt his cheeks blaze. “How was I supposed to know—” he started, but it was no use. Already her attention had strayed, out across the treetops and towards the horizon. His grip began to loosen, just a touch, and she pointed.

“Isn’t it beautiful?”

The wind pressed from behind as if following her gesture, teasing the loose strands of their hair to tickle at his cheeks, and hers. He followed, too, casting out across the treetops to where fields of wheat were pushed into great, lustrous waves of gold, and the sun below the spread-thin clouds sent forth rays that reached towards them. As if he could reach out for them, and feel their warmth against his fingers. As if the world were bathed in light.

“What is it called?” Viera whispered, breathless through a grin. “There has to be a word for it.”

He scrambled to remember what Elvhen he’d learned, the bits and pieces gifted to him from the Keeper. “Elgara vallas, the sun sets,” he recalled from a lullaby, “lasa vunlea, gifting light.” They weren’t quite right, however, and the word he wanted—beautiful, gorgeous, breath-taking—was much too long to remember. Slowly, he worked together the only other word he could find. 

“Haur’en’an’sal,” he settled on. “Golden blessing.”

“Haur’en’an’sal,” Viera repeated, as if testing the feel of it in her mouth, enunciating slowly. “I like it. I like it a lot.”

Despite the perilous climb, Nuarehn felt much the same.

[jerzwriter]

forgot to include a pairing! so sorry lmfao:

anyway here's the prompt: 'Of course. Because why would I have anything better to do on a Friday night.'' ''Do you have anything better to do?'' ''I didn't say that.''

and here's the pairing: tobias x casey

hope you have fun writing, elsa! can't wait to read it!

Sorry for the delay! This is sort of a follow-up to You're On, which was another fake date request. I hope you enjoy this!

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Tobias Carrick, Casey MacTavish - Platonic (maybe)

Rating: Teen

Warnings: None

Words: 1647

Summary: Tobias & Casey successfully convinced his visiting mother and aunt that they were a couple. They did so well, he's asking for her help again.

A/N: Thanks for the ask! The prompt is highlighted below.

@choicesjuly2022challenge Day 2 Love Confession

(Sort of a follow-up to You're On!)

“I’m sorry! I was in line already! You cut in front of me!”

A short lab tech turned around, seething at the resident who dared to question her.

“I did not! If you were paying attention instead of trying to check out that new doctor, maybe you would have seen that I was in front of you the whole time!”

It was a typical lunchtime in Edenbrook’s main cafeteria. Casey was seated at a table not far from the chaos, but she may as well have been a thousand miles away. Everyone was always astounded at her ability to tune the rest of the world out. Her books were open, and she was laser-focused. No one knew how she did it. But it came in handy right now. She had spent last weekend convincing Tobias’s mother and aunt that she was his girlfriend. It was much more fun than she had anticipated, and against all odds, they pulled it off. But it took her away from her studies, and with the Boards soon approaching, her super skill was coming in handy. Her little table was an oasis. Until…

“I need your help.”

The table shook as Tobias took the seat across from her, his forearms crashing onto its surface as he looked at her with desperation. Casey looked at him over the rim of her reading glasses, a sarcastic smile on her lips.

“You’re helpless, don’t you know that by now, Carrick?”

“And you’re funny. But, seriously. I need your help.”

She closed the book with a sigh and took off her glasses, tucking them into her pocket.

“What now?”

“You’re on fake girlfriend duty Friday.”

“Of course,” she said with a rueful shake of her head. “Because why would I have anything better to do on a Friday night?”

“Well, do you have anything better to do?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I didn’t think so,” he smirked, sparkling eyes and those damn dimples making it impossible for her annoyance to fester.

“Gee, thanks, pal!”

“Anytime.”

“So, what’s going on? Did your mom and Aunt Brenda have such a good time last weekend that they decided to come back to Boston this week?”

“No, but I wouldn’t be surprised. It was an awesome weekend, and they had such a good time, they can’t stop talking about it.”

“It was a great weekend,” she smiled. “They were so nice. I think they liked me, too.”

“Oh, they didn’t like you – they loved you. Oh! That reminds me, you’ll need to clear some time from your calendar over the holidays. They definitely want to see us. Don’t worry, I’ll cover the gifts. It won’t cost you a penny.”

“T!!!” She protested.

“Come on! I’ll get us a nice suite, someplace near my Mom’s. This way, we don’t have to share my old bedroom,” he smiled as Casey rolled her eyes. “You don’t have fake moan and scream my name.”

Casey’s face twisted as she reached across the table to slap him firmly on his arm.

“Tobias Carrick!” she yelled.

“What!” He chuckled as he dodged a second blow. “I’m nearly forty years old! If I’m bringing my girlfriend home for the holidays, my Mom will expect we’re going to… you know,” he winked.

“I can’t stand you.”

“Yes, you can.”

“But look, I’m not worrying about the holidays just yet,” Casey clarified. “you have plenty of time to stage our break up before then. But what’s up this weekend? A conference? You want to show up with your girlfriend, so it looks like you actually matured?”

“Nah,” he grumbled. “I don’t care about that.”

Casey took a long sip of her coffee, deep in thought as she attempted to see who she was being asked to trick this time.

“Mmmm. Meeting up with old friends! Your crazy ex will be there, and you don’t want her to know you are single, so she doesn’t get any ideas.”

“Mmm-mmm.  Not that.”

“Couple’s discount at some place you’ve been dying to try? Fending off a nurse with a mad crush on you?”

“All negative.”

“Well, then what is it?” She surrendered. “I give up.”

“Because I need you to play my girlfriend.”

“I get that. But are you going to tell me why?”

“Nope,” he answered with a ridiculously adorable smirk.

“You’re not going to tell me?”

“Nope,” he repeated.

“Well, then my answer is no. I refuse to agree to this until I know the terms. You’ll need to tell me why.”

“Here?”

“Of course here? Where are we talking?”

“OK,” he smiled. “I want you to play fake girlfriend because I love the way it feels when you do. I love watching you walk down the steps, all dressed up in something that I hope you picked out just for me, and the way your perfume fills my car the second you enter. You know, it takes days for it to go away, and when it does… I miss it. I love how your eyes light up when you listen to me tell a stupid story and how you burst into a fit of giggles when I’m done. I love when you hold my hand and snuggle up close under my arm. I love how you let me pull you closer and kiss the top of your head. The only thing I don’t love is when it’s all over. So… how about it?” he smiled shyly, reaching over the table to take her hand in his. “This Friday… you pretend to be my girlfriend, not for my Mom, or my Aunt Brenda, or some colleagues I don’t give a damn about… just for the two people who matter most… you and me.”

His hope for a quick reply was quashed the second he saw the look of confusion on Casey’s face. Her eyes looked wild, and her mouth hung open. For the first time since he knew her, she didn’t seem to know what to say. 

“I... I just…” she stammered. “I’m just a little confused. Tobias, are you asking me out on a date? Like, for real, for real?”

“No,” he smiled, slowly shaking his head. “There’s no need for me to ask you out on a date. You go on dates to get to know someone, and we already know each other. So I’m hoping that you’re not just an outstanding actress. Maybe the reason you’re such an amazing fake girlfriend is that, deep down, you’d really like it too… and maybe… maybe we can visit Ma over the holidays, but I won’t have to lie to her anymore. What do you think?”

“Tobias,” she gasped. “Are you… are you saying you want me to be your real girlfriend?”

“I am,” he answered without hesitation. “What do you say?”

Casey swallowed and let out a puff of air, her eyes watering as she began to reply.

“On… on Friday… you want me to be your real girlfriend… on Friday? I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Tobias, but I can’t do that.”

“Oh…” he stammered, pulling his hand back as he fell slack in his chair. “OK, well, I guess you are that good of an actress. Which is commendable!” He added, “Impressive ever… I… I just kind of wish I had figured that out sooner. But it’s OK… it’s OK… this  uh… this changes nothing….”

“Actually, it does.”

“It does?”

“Yes, you see… because I am a very good actress because you seem to believe me.”

“What?” Tobias asked, his eyes crinkling.

“I would be so happy to be your real girlfriend, Tobias. But I’m not about to wait until Friday. If you want me to be your real girlfriend, then it starts right now!”

A look of relief washed over him as a smile lit up his face.

“Right now?” he asked.

“Right now,” she nodded.

“Like, right now? This very second.”

“This very second,” she agreed.

“Well,” he said forcefully pushing the gable to the side, “would this make it official?”

Reaching over, he tangled his fingers in the back of her hair and pulled her close to him. Their lips joined together in a kiss that was innocent and passionate all at once. Oblivious to those around them, they lingered until her lips morphed into a smile pressed against his. 

“It does,” she beamed. “It definitely does.”

Tobias turned to his side to see Dr. Kingsley from Radiology staring directly at them. 

“Some privacy?” Tobias barked as Casey laughed softly into his shoulder.

Turning back to Casey, he pushed her hair over her ear and smiled.

“Do you think we could actually moan each other’s names at my Mom’s for Christmas?”

“Oh, for God's sake, Tobias….” she chortled.

“It’s an honest question!”

“Yes,” she said with a toss of her head. “Fine! I’ll actually moan your name at your Mom’s for Christmas.”

“Awesome!” But do you think that maybe….”

“Tonight,” she interrupted, answering the question before it was asked. “I get out at 7:00. We can start practicing tonight.”

“I can’t wait!” he growled into her ear.

“Neither can I,” Casey giggled. “Neither can I.”

Tugging at her hand, Casey stood as Tobias motioned for her to sit on his lap. 

“I love you, Casey,” he whispered, “and I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it, but now that I do, I’m gonna say it again and again. Right here… in front of everybody. I love you.”

“I love you too,” she beamed, looking into his eyes as a small spattering of applause circled them. 

“We’re going to be the talk of the hospital for months,” she laughed.

“Good! I want them all to know you’re off the market, and so am I.”

In a distant corner, Bryce smirked in their direction as he dropped his turkey sandwich to the plate.   “Hand me my twenty!” he snapped at Jackie. “I was right all along.”

[yourmcu]

Emotional Support Mode

Pairings: Tony Stark x daughter!reader

Summary:

in which the reader is the loner, antisocial daughter of Tony Stark and the other Avengers including her father never acknowledge her presence (they thought some sort of interaction made you uncomfortable) so she becomes friends with Friday instead - Tony probs finds out and it’s gonna be all cute n fluffie once he realizes -

Word count: 2,243

a/n: hi just wanted to write fluffy tony :)) also I used they/them for friday’s pronouns

Warnings: angst n fluff, friday’s a bit more advanced (not like they aren’t already but) bc they could almost act like a literal human here.

read it on ao3!

You arrive back at the Avengers facility, shoulders slumped and just tired in general since you have a lot of homework and projects to do from school, most of them due by the end of the week. You also have exams later in the week.

“Hey, Fri,” you huff as you make your way to the elevator.

“Welcome home, Y/N. Where do you want to go?”

Yes, you're very close with the A.I that they started calling you by your first name. “To my room - and uh, will you remind me to read two chapters in my history book after I’m done with all my homework? I also have this project, I just need some measurements later, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure thing.”

“Thank you.”

It’s going to be a long night, you sigh heavily just thinking about it. Now you’re probably wondering, ‘you live with the Avengers! Why don’t you ask Tony and Bruce for help? Maybe Steve and Bucky for your History test?’

Yeah, well... you barely talk to any real person you live with. Maybe it’s you, you always thought you're making the team uncomfortable. You don’t even talk to your own father often which is kind of depressing on your part.

You love them, they’re like your extended family, but it just isn’t working out. Maybe they just don’t like you. Up to this day you still wonder why Tony took you in when you were just a baby (you were a mistake from one of his one night stands) - he had the choice not to.

“I’m assuming you zoned out again. You have arrived to your room five minutes ago.” Friday announces.

“Y-yeah sorry,” you shuffle out of the elevator and swiftly head to your bedroom, closing the door behind you.

“I also asked if I should inform Mr. Stark that you have arrived home.”

“No, no thanks. He’s busy and... probably wouldn’t care anyway,” You mutter the last part as you pile the books you need on your desk. “Can you put my study playlist on, please?”

----

“What time is it, Friday?”

“7PM. I was about to remind you to take a break.”

You get up from your chair and stretch, halfway through the last of your homework which is a two page essay. “You’re too kind, thanks pal,” when you walk out your room to head to the kitchen and grab a snack, the lounge is empty, kitchen empty,

“The team’s on a mission? I thought they had the whole week off,” you say before gulping down a water bottle.

“I checked the security footage: they left about an hour ago. Captain Rogers was talking about getting dinner.”

You put the bottle down. “Oh,” you try to mask your disappointment. This isn’t your first time being alone, they always left you here when they had a mission of course but... well, it’s not like they want you around them. “I’ll - I’ll just make myself something later, then. Not a big deal. I have to study anyway.”

Another hour later, the Avengers are back. They're all conversing happily as they pile in the lounge. Peter's rambling about upgrades for the Spiderman suit while Tony's typing away in his phone, nodding at everything he says. Everyone else is arguing about the TV channels and talking about the new restaurant they ate at.

Rhodey shifts, looking around. “Why do I feel like we forgot something?”

Natasha looks at him, waiting for him to go on.

“I assure you, I brought Mjolnir with me this time.” Thor butts in.

“No not that, what time does Y/N get home from school?” No one answers. It’s not like any of them know. It's natural that Rhodey would be worried about his goddaughter (even if they rarely talk). He turns his head to his best friend who’s now walking away with Peter, an arm around his shoulder. “Tony, where’s Y/N?”

He doesn’t hear since he has his full attention on his protégé.

“I’ll start making this tomorrow, I guess. I still have to buy materials.” You mumble to yourself, but you hope Friday's listening to everything you say just to make you feel less lonely. You swipe the hologram of the blueprint away and place the thick books in front of you.

“I would like to recommend a suitable study plan.” they state.

You rub your eyes, sighing, “I’m already halfway, I would’ve considered it earlier though.”

“This is only a recommendation, feel free to ignore it.”

You push yourself away from the desk and mutter a “go on,”, fiddling with your pen.

“Asking Mr. Rogers and Mr. Barnes would give you more details for your History examination, since the pair were originally from that time period. The same goes for Mr. Banner for your Science examination, I believe he has seven Ph.D’s, you may also approach Vision for the same topic. Mr. Stark has all the necessary materials for your project in his lab. Would you like me to-”

If only it were that easy. It should be easy, the thought alone makes you really nervous. “No, I - I appreciate the recommendation, Friday, but - I think I can do this on my own.”

“But you’re tired and it is almost midnight. I would help you myself but you specifically told me not to.”

They’re not wrong. Your eyes are starting to droop and you barely understand anything you're reading. You're also fighting back tears - why is talking to your family so hard?

“I can sense sadness. Would you like me to activate emotional support mode?”

“Yeah, okay. That sounds great right about now.”

----

“Crap. Guess we lost track of time again, kid,” Tony wipes his hands with a rag while he looks at the time on his computer. “You better get home. I’ll send May a text for keeping you this late.”

“Okay, thank you Mr. Stark. I’m just gonna use my suit-”

“No. Happy will drive you.”

Peter knew better than to argue and insist so he just nods and smiles sheepishly. A minute later Happy came ‘round to take him home.

Tony turns back around. “Friday, make a new project for me please, I’m adding minor upgrades to the Spiderman suit.”

“Not now, boss.”

Oh. He did not expect that. “Excuse me?”

“Y/N is currently opening up. I would like to give her my full, undivided attention. Please come back after fifteen minutes or so.”

Tony doesn’t exactly know how to feel about that. He never sees her outside her room anymore that he kinda forgot she existed tonight - oh fuck, they didn’t bring her to dinner with them.

“Well,” he exhales. “What is she saying?”

“That would be an invasion of privacy.”

“I’m her father-”

“Are you, sir?” Friday’s clever remark makes him stop abruptly.

It’s pretty clear that he’s been a shit father. Not only does he ignore you all the time but he treats Peter way better than his own flesh and blood. The Avengers on the other hand, they were nice people, but just didn’t understand so they try their best to get out of your way.

You were afraid of rejection, afraid to interact, because you had no idea what everyone thought of you. Did they like you? Did you make them uncomfortable? Did they want you around? What about Tony, did he really want a daughter in his life? Because you noticed he’d be better off with a son, yeah, like Peter goddamn Parker.

Tony sighs, walking out of his lab and heads to the mini bar to grab a drink. He needs to think: there's absolutely nothing wrong about you, he just didn’t do his job right, you thought he didn’t care, you thought nobody did. Even Friday is turning against him, doing a better job of comforting and being there for you.

“God, I’m such an asshole,” he mutters to himself, rubbing his forehead. He drinks his last shot and heads to the kitchen. “She still awake?” He calls out.

“She is.” Friday has a bitter tone.

He's hesitant to ask again, feeling really bad for not knowing this simple question - “what’s her favorite beverage?”

----

“How do you feel?”

You sniffle. “Well y’know, better than before. I should probably go to sleep. Thanks, Fri.”

“You’re welcome. Also, Mr. Stark is outside your door.”

“W-what?” You put away your books and straighten up, rubbing your damp eyes. “You’re serious? Okay, uh, let him in?” It's more of a question.

“Alright.”

You turn to face your desk as Tony enters the room, holding two steaming mugs. He sits at the end of your bed, just right next to the chair you're sitting on. “Hi,” he gives you a small smile and hands you a mug.

What’s the occasion?

“What’s this?” You ask quietly before taking the mug from his hands. Tony's being gentle and soft, it's odd but you’re not complaining.

“Green tea with honey. I... I thought I saw you make that stuff once.” He says, not mentioning the fact that Friday told him that.

“Oh, well, yeah,” you take a small sip. He added a bit too much honey but other than that it was good. “I thought you preferred coffee, though,”

Tony shrugs, his eyes glistening when he looks at you. “Wouldn’t hurt to try something new.”

“Did - did you want something, Dad?” You always found yourself awkward, couldn’t even make conversation with someone for long, always wanted to get straight to the point so it could be over with.

He looks like he wants to say something but he just averts his gaze to you, his hands, the floor, then suddenly he leans in and hugs you. Your feel your heart swell and body warm up, it’s a new sensation for you after all, you rarely get hugs from people. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “For everything. I’m such a bad dad, I don’t deserve you. I even forgot you when we went out to dinner.”

“You don’t have to be sorry for anything. I had loads of stuff to do earlier anyway, so, but yeah I was just - I just overreact, I’m sensitive. I don’t blame you and the others for not liking me, I know there’s nothing like-able about me, I’m not like Peter-” You ramble, tears now leaving your eyes again.

“Sweetheart, don’t say that,” Tony says as he pulls you closer to him, head resting against his chest while he rubs your back comfortably. “Y/N Stark, you are smart, brilliant - I was just an ass for not acknowledging that.”

“I know you’re just saying that to-”

“Oh, but I’m not,” he now places his hands on your shoulders, getting you to look at him. “Tell me who built their first engine when they were eight?”

You blush, “Dad-”

“No, come on, I wanna hear it.”

“I did.”

“Yes you did. And who made a completely functioning robot at their middle school science fair that blew all the teacher’s minds?”

You’re trying to hide a smile, recalling the memory,  “I did.”

“And who,” Tony gets up and walks to the bulky looking thing that you covered with a sheet, pulling it off, “is currently building a computer from scratch?”

“Dad! That’s still a work in progress,” he messily places the sheet back and chuckles.

“My point is, you’re a clever and talented girl, Y/N. Don’t bring yourself down. And you don’t have to be shy around your family, those idiots have been dying to get to know you but since you don’t talk much... they don’t want to force it. We love you,” he says. “I hope you forgive me ‘cause I really wanna make it up to you. I’m not calling Peter in for a few weeks.” Tony sits down beside you again.

You couldn’t believe he’d do that for you. “You don’t have to, if you need him for something then-”

“-then you could help me instead, if you’re up for it.”

“I’m really sorry for being such a lonely freak,” you yawn, getting back into Tony’s open arms. “I love you.”

Tony tucks you in and lies down beside you, “I love you tons, kiddo.”

You snuggle into his chest, feeling his steady breathing while he rests his chin above your head.

----

It's morning. The Avengers are gathered at your open bedroom door.

“Are you getting all of this, Friday?”

“Yes, Ms. Romanoff.”

“Steve turn that shuttering sound down!” Natasha hisses at the super soldier who's doing his task, taking pictures.

Steve almost drops the phone and has Bruce fix the volume for him.

They’re all watching you and Tony cuddle together, still fast asleep.

“Do we have to stay here until they wake up?”

“Unless you have a great way of waking them up, yes. Now shut up.”

“If you think about it we definitely look creepy right now.” Sam comments.

“It’s their fault for having the door wide open all night!” Clint says.

Tony's actually awake the whole time, listening to them bickering. “You have three seconds to get the hell out of here before I make all of you polish my suits.” With that, the team races down the hall, pushing each other to get away first like literal children.

[lovecolibri]

SaL anon here bestie wishing you a happy start to the weekend. Sorry I've been scarce, I'm finishing up my 95th illness this year and desperately missing mask mandates, but I really wanted to yell about the gloriousness of Boston (the episode, though the city's pretty great too). I really couldn't tell you about the accuracy of the city's depiction since it was hard to see through all the tears, I was more or less on a constant state of sobbing during the episode. And i've really, really TBC

been wanting to do a song, but I've been so stuck on which one to do. My criteria of "it should be about healing and moving forward" and "should involve water imagery" hasn't been especially helpful in narrowing things down, but I will get there!! Fortunately (not really) I have time since we have over a week till next episode. Aside from that I've been enjoying all the salt throw KR and LD's way while trying not to think too hard about having to put up with that character all season. I think you already said it, but as a fellow RNM veteran you know keeping expectations low doesn't always work, some showrunners have a knack for managing to sink even lower. I do find it interesting all the promo has been focused on the dispatch fire which isn't happening for a few episodes. Wonder why they don't want to show us all the cool fire rescues that are surely happening in the intervening episodes 🙄. At least we have time to prep for Eddie's breakdown.

Hello my friend! I meant to answer this on Friday but my mental state about the show has been Not Great Actually sooooo that's been fun 🙃 I'm so sorry you've been sick again though 🥺 I wish I could help with a song choice, but if I have to think too hard about Madney I want to cry and wrap them both in blankets until they're smiling and happy again 😭😭😭

As for keeping expectations low, yeah it's SO HARD, because we know there is good stuff coming up with Eddie in therapy and Buck being In The Room, and Eddie possibly coming back to work, BUT then there is all the interviews and stuff and knowing what the person in charge (for the most part) thinks about Buck and Eddie, and getting teased with Eddie maybe coming back in 5x16/5x17 but LD still being there filming for the finale and knowing that KR wrote and directed the finale....there's just a lot there to make you lose hope, ya know? I know everyone is on the "vow renewal "oh" moment for Buddie" train, but unless Tim steps in and writes that scene like he did for The Will and The Scene With Chris, then we are likely going to end more on the "massive amounts of tay-kay being shoved into scenes she didn't belong in and trying to pretend that this is a cute couple moment when all anyone sees is a deeply traumatized Buck being taken advantage of" side of things like we did with 4x14. (Unpopular opinion, but 4x13 is a better episode by far because that shooting scene is a cinematic masterpiece, that KR undercut at every turn in 4x14 from having tay-kay being the ONLY one to see Buck in the aftermath, to being there at the "party" instead of ANYONE in the firefam, to Bobby's weird behavior towards Buck when everyone expected him to be more understanding. The three saving grace scenes were the immediate aftermath of the shooting, The Chris Scene, and The Will Scene, two of which we know KR didn't think were important and that Tim put in because he said they needed to be there.)

ANYWAY, I'm hoping after 5x13 we'll have a better idea of how much LD we are going to have to put up with and what her and Buck's dynamic will look like, in comparison to what the interviews touted. Because even the GA are pissed about her and her taking up screen time and NO ONE wants to see her being "flirty" with Buck, especially while he still has a gf. Them using those interviews to prop up this new "best pals with sexual tension" idea instead of "Buck is in a dark place and making bad choices because of it" really, really killed this arc before it ever started. Fandom has made far more excuses for Buck's behavior than those interviews did, playing it off like it's a fun thing that makes Buck feel alive again and brings joy back into his dreary existence because his gf was making him miserable and that....that has left a really sour taste behind for everyone. So here's hoping they will lean more into the idea that Buck is actually spiraling out and cut as much of their interactions as they can. Given the immediate and deeply negative response to her character, I'm doubtful there's anything they can do to salvage her now, the only question is will they be able to adapt enough with this 3 week break to salvage Buck's character, and salvage their ratings and reviews.

Because right now things are....pretty abysmal as seen by the fact that it's nearly impossible to spot LD in any official clips or posts or synopsis so they can keep from getting negative comments on them. But if she's not promoted as being in the episode and then is heavily featured, especially if she's flirting and being buddy-buddy with Buck, the backlash will be even louder afterwards, just like it was with Tay-Kay. And maybe more so, because 5a was when casual viewers really started getting tired of the show not focusing on the main characters, especially with two of them missing, meaning we should have been able to focus better on them since there was more time with less characters to split it between. But KR chose to use that time for a character people already didn't like (and knowing how much stuff got cut to wedge her into episodes I can't fully buy the "oh we needed more filler footage and she was cheap" excuse. They're already paying the mains for every episode, why not use them? Or use Ravi who the GA is actually fond of and wanted to know more about and is also already getting paid instead of having to pay someone new to be in an episode, and cut already filmed and edited scenes to put her in? Sounds like passing the blame to me). And then those interviews came out and made it sound like LD is a new main character who isn't leaving any time soon and just fits in SO well with the team and everyone loves her, and she's SO cool and blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. Now viewers who have just been waiting for our mains to have storylines again are doubly pissed, so I think they will be even harder on her than tay-kay especially with the cheating plot making everything a thousand times more awkward and cringy.

I also enjoy reading the salt and people's reactions and the backlash, but unfortunately, all the salt in the world (though it feels good in the moment) doesn't change the fact that we're still stuck with what we're going to have to see on screen. And we're stuck with it because someone in charge refuses to follow through on the narrative that's been set up by 4 other seasons of this show. By writing, and acting, and directing, and lighting, and consuming, and editing, and music choices. It's deeply frustrating to watch a narrative be betrayed like that, as any RNM veteran knows (or anyone who has watched a show with a "true soulmates" structure that inexplicably went with "lets watch them both happily date and fall in love with at least 3 other people before we let them get together in the final season). It's frustrating that they would rather tank a beloved character's creditability to push him with these awful women he never should be going after just to create some pointless teen-show drama, than allow this love story to finish unfolding in a natural way. We are on the precipice of it going on too long to logically explain why it didn't happen sooner and after that point anything well begin to feel more like a bone being thrown because "it's the last season who cares if we lose viewers now".

And who knows! We might get an "oh" moment for Eddie or a third party confession this season (though at this point I kinda hope not because KR doesn't deserve ANY of the praise or credit for it, and this season doesn't deserve that honor) or beginning of the next, but that doesn't mean that this whole thing with LD was needed, or if she's barely there that it wasn't as "bad" as we thought it would be, it simply means that they had to majorly course correct after bleeding viewers and getting trashed online for this juvenile cheating plot in a show that's usually above such cheap drama. Everyone has been saying since season 4 that things felt different and that season 5 has been messy, inconsistent, and definitely not the show people fell in love with. Here's hoping that's enough to bring about some changes before there's no magic left to save.

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

My dearest bouncey! I have a prompt for you if you like: Witchers as a 90s/2000s boyband 😂🤷‍♀️💖💖💖

Ellie, darling, this started as 500 words and turned into like 3.2k words and also a piece of art so... thank you so much. also shout out to my amazing art pal @mawbwehownets for the little comic!!

this contains lots of 90′s/early 2000′s nostalgia so there is also that

tw: hornyish, smooching, perilous music video situations (corny)

---

“Do I have to?” Geralt groans, letting his forehead thud down against the linoleum surface of their tour bus’s shitty dining table.

“Yes,” Vesemir says. His tone leaves no room for argument or whining. “But what if I let you pick the winner personally?”

“There have to be like fifteen thousand letters to go through! How will I manage that in less than two days?”

“There were a few more than fifteen thousand applications, Geralt. There were probably closer to five hundred thousand.”

Lambert wolf whistles and Aiden claps.

Geralt grimaces and keeps his face hidden against the table, releasing a slightly muffled: “Fuck.”

“Language,” Vesemir frowns. He tugs gently at Geralt’s loose ponytail and the singer lifts his head up from the table again, looking at his manager with beseeching eyes. “Anyway, we’ve narrowed it down to about fifty. You can go through those and choose whichever person you’d like to play your love interest. But you have to give me an answer by Friday. The shoot is in three weeks and whoever wins this stupid competition will need time to make arrangements.”

“I thought we were footing the bill for their food and their hotel room,” Geralt raised an eyebrow. “What would they need to arrange?”

“Not everyone can board their pets at the flick of a wrist, dude,” Lambert scoffs from his seat on the couch. Aiden lies draped across his lap, as usual, and the two of them are halfheartedly watching The Lion King. They can only watch movies when the bus is stationary, otherwise the VHS player might move too much while running and damage the film inside the cassette. Even taking advantage of such a rare opportunity, Lambert and Aiden still seem more interested in each other than Jonathan Taylor Thomas’s voice acting. 

“Lambert has a point,” Vesemir sighs. He scrubs his hand over his lightly whiskered face like a tired grandparent and sighs again, more heavily. “It’ll be good for you boys to have a normal person around for a few days. Maybe they’ll be able to put some things into perspective.”

Geralt can only roll his eyes a little bit and thank his manager regardless of his own feelings; he and the rest of TW5 owe the seasoned musical expert their entire careers. Without Vesemir’s help and mentorship they would never have made it past their first disastrous record deal. They certainly wouldn’t have reached the heights they’re at now, enjoying international fame and recognition. 

The begrudging frontman accepts a heavy plastic bin of file folders from Vesemir and sets them down next to his bunk. “Are these organized in any particular way?”

“Nope.”

“Cool.”

Geralt digs his hand into the pile and pulls out a piece of pale-pink stationary, eager to get started and, by extension, get finished. He can already tell that it’s going to be a long couple of days.

---

“I want this one, please, Ves.”

“Huh?” Vesemir looks up from his palm-pilot. Geralt is standing in front of him and trying to hand him something. 

“I want this guy to be in the music video with me.” Geralt holds out the letter again, fingers trapping the accompanying polaroid headshot with great care. A pair of bright blue eyes stares up from the photo, highlighting the subject’s bright smile and unruly mop of messy brown hair. Vesemir tries to hide his amusement; totally Geralt’s type, if the big oaf could admit to having one.

“Alright. I’ll get everything in order. We start shooting in two and a half weeks so get your asses to the gym, please.”

“Yes, Ves,” all five young men chorus. 

“Tomorrow,” Coen mutters a moment later than everyone else, not glancing up from his composition notebook. Vesemir nods in understanding. Coen is the best lyricist of the lot and it’s easier to let him work when inspiration strikes than beg him to focus when he can’t get a solitary idea to stick.

“So why’d you pick that one, Ger-bear?” Lambert drawls. Aiden nods and leans against Lambert’s side. Geralt can’t help the mild jealousy that overtakes him every time he sees his bandmates touch each other with such casual affection. He wants that intimacy, that softness behind the veneer of famous indifference. He wants someone to hold. 

“Yeah. What drew your attention to that poor unfortunate soul. Was it the floppy hair, the big blue eyes, or the dopey grin?” Aiden smirks.

“Hmm.”

“Fuck you,” Eskel sighs, looking between the two troublemakers with the tired gaze of an eldest sibling, “Fuck you for even asking in the first place and expecting a straight answer.”

“Straight is the furthest thing from his answer,” Lambert chuckles. He is promptly smacked in the head with one of the couch’s hideous throw pillows. The youngest member of the band rubs the side of his face and chuckles, “Alright, I deserved that one.”

---

“Holy shit!” Jaskier practically screams. “Holy motherfucking shit!”

“What!?” Yennefer comes flying around the corner. “What’s wrong!?”

“Nothing is wrong, Yenna! Everything is awesome! Everything absolutely fucking rocks!”

“Did you get hit on the head by a falling branch between here and the mailbox or what? You were whining about your finals work not five min-”

“Look at this!” Jaskier shoves an open envelope into her hands and cuts her off. Yennefer reads the watermarked documents once. Twice. Her eyes almost pop out of her head when the words and their meanings finally sink in. 

“Are you fucking with me right now?”

“No, I am absolutely not!” her giddy roommate cheers, bouncing up and down in place. “I did it! I won!”

“Holy shit.”

“I know! I get to kiss Geralt deRiv!” he practically cackles. Then freezes. “Holy fuck I get to kiss Geralt deRiv.”

“You said that already,” Yen teases. She shoves the paperwork back into his hands and grabs a takeout menu from the junk drawer near her hip. “Since you won the makeout lottery, you get to buy lunch. Lucky bastard.”

---

“So this will be your dressing room,” someone’s underpaid PA says, ushering Jaskier into a small, bright room. “Priscilla will be here shortly to get you into hair and makeup.”

“Oh, uh- thanks!”

“Yup.”

And with that, the young man disappears back down the hallway toward the sound stage. Jaskier jogs his leg anxiously as he waits for Priscilla to arrive, nervous and otherwise totally alone in the huge grey building. As the minutes tick by and his heart rate rises, Jaskier’s intrusive thoughts make an unwanted appearance: What if they forget about me being here? What if there’s been a mistake and they accidentally hired two love interests and I just sit in here for hours all alone while-

“Hi!” a bright, peppy blonde woman flies through the door and startles him back to reality. “Nice to meet you, I’m Priscilla! You can call me Priss; I’ll be doing your hair and makeup for the video this week!”

“Oh… hi. I’m Julian, but I prefer Jaskier.”

“Lovely! Well, Jaskier, is your hair naturally this color?”

“Y-Yes?”

“Perfect! I don’t want to mess with such a lovely shade of natural brown, but do you mind if I give it a bit of a trim? I have a few ideas for styles right here in my book- How do you feel about some feathering back here? I think-” she fluffs a few of the hairs around the nape of Jaskier’s neck “-I could really bring out the curls if I adjusted the length a bit and used some product.”

“Just, uhm, go for it, then! Feel free to make me as pretty as possible!” Jaskier declares. He’s committing to this experience wholeheartedly, determined to allow himself every opportunity for positive change. He wants to really let himself enjoy it, and he needs a haircut anyway. Priscilla spends an hour washing, cutting, drying, and styling his hair into a lovely fringed sweep across his forehead. It ends just above his brows, giving his face a slightly softer shape than usual. He grins over his shoulder, “I love it! I’m going to miss you when I’m back at Oxenfurt. Good stylists are so hard to find.”

Priss blushes and nudges against his shoulder, “Oh, you little charmer.”

“I mean it,” he says, examining himself in the mirror. “I look like I could really be worthy of a heroic rescue! This is going to be such a fantastic memory, and I appreciate it. Thank you so much.”

Priss bites back a genuine tear and smiles, “Now that your natural prettiness has been mildly enhanced, let’s get you over to wardrobe, shall we?”

“Wardrobe? Do I have, like, a costume? What’s the music video even about?”

“They didn’t tell you any of this when you got here?”

“Not… not really.”

“Well, my darling, I think you’re really going to like it; they’ve got you in Versace for the first scene.”

“Versace!?” 

Then Jaskier is being ushered into a bright, colorful room full to bursting with grim-faced, middle-aged women and he loses track of his only braincell for the rest of the morning.

---

“You must be Julian!” Lambert declares, bounding up to him and grinning. It’s a feral, animalistic grin and Jaskier resists the sudden urge to take a step back.

“I prefer Jaskier, if you don’t mind too much,” Jaskier corrects him quietly. Lambert rolls his eyes in a long-suffering kind of way and throws a meaty arm around the shorter man’s shoulders, completely ignoring the wardrobe technician’s wincing as he wrinkles the expensive silk jacket. 

“No need to be quiet and polite around here, my dude. We’re just a bunch of rowdy idiots, aren��t we, guys?” 

“Hell yeah!” Aiden calls back. Eskel sighs like the put-upon nanny in a Victorian Redanian comedy. 

“Speak for yourself,” Coen barely lifts his frosted tips up from his book long enough to speak. Geralt is-

Holy motherfucking Britney Spears on toast.

Geralt is the hottest thing Jaskier has ever seen in his short, unfulfilled-until-right-now life. Forget Ralph Macchio. Forget Leonardo Dicaprio and Kate Winslet and Winona Ryder. This man is… Geralt deRiv is… he’s the picture of perfection. And he’s right there, standing in front of an elaborate party set with his thick, beautiful arms crossed over his chest and his eyes trained on the floor, as if willing it to swallow him whole. Jaskier realizes that he probably didn’t have any choice in the matter; maybe this was just as awkward and uncomfortable for Geralt as it was for Jaskier. 

“Ger-bear!” Lambert whoops, yanking Jaskier closer to the brooding frontman. If only he were brave enough to struggle for escape; alas. “This is your boy-toy for the week. Goes by Jaskier, apparently.”

“Nice to meet you,” Geralt manages to grunt. “How did you like the script?”

“I haven’t uh- I haven’t actually seen it?”

“Shit. Fuck. One second,” Geralt huffs, disappearing into the crowd of technicians and machinery operators and PAs. Jaskier loves him already, for real. Sure, he was pretty in the music videos and promo material, but the way he said fuck like it was the noblest word he could think of… Geralt interrupts his train of thought by coming back with a sheaf of papers clutched in his hand. He shuffle-shoves them into Jaskier’s arms immediately. “There you go.”

“Thank you!” Jaskier smiles. It’s genuine and shy, more tenuous than his usual goofy grin. He flips through the pages, glancing between the script to his expensive suit, “So I’m guessing we’re at a party for this scene? Or something?”

“This is… where we meet. This is where… you and I uh…”

Jaskier’s eyes scan the page as Geralt’s ability to speak slowly leaves him. 

Lover ENTERS LEFT, dressed to the nines. Lover adjusts their tie/boa and takes a look around the room. S/He looks sad and a little hopeful. PULL BACK to Geralt, who approaches slowly. Their eyes meet. HOLD SHOT. PULL BACK as they move towards each other. Geralt pulls Lover into his arms and they begin to dance.

“Oh, wow.”

“I hope it’s okay! If you’re not comfortable with that kind of thing we can-”

“I’ll be alright, thank you. I came here to put my acting chops to the test. Well, that and meet my favorite band, of course. Thank you again, by the way. It’s been wonderful so far and I really appreciate you allowing me to be here.”

“Allowing? Psh. Geralt ha-” Lambert is cut off by Aiden, who elbows him sharply in the side. “Ow! What the fuck, babe?”

“I knew it!” Jaskier crows, distracted. “I knew you two were an item!”

“They’re not exactly subtle.”

“They never confirm anything either,” Jaskier retorts. Geralt shrugs his acknowledgement and moves back towards the set. Jaskier follows after the taller man like a lost puppy, eyes flicking from one thing to the next, hungry for detail even in his anxiety ridden state. This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience and he doesn’t want to waste a solitary second of it. “This is incredible, really just...wow. You guys do this all the time? You get to make tiny little movies for already great songs that you get to perform for millions of adoring fans? And you get paid!?”

Geralt hadn’t ever really thought about it like that. He’d been raised in the industry. He’d signed to Kaer Morhen Records as an early teen because his mother was a member of the Board of Directors and he’d been making music ever since; an outsider’s perspective to things was… new. A little strange. “Yeah, I guess that is pretty much what we do.”

“Wow.”

“It’s not that exciting, I promise.”

“Have you ever written a fifteen page paper about the history of lute-string design and manufacturing?” 

“No.”

“Then kindly shut the fuck up about what I should consider exciting,” Jaskier grins. Geralt is immediately and irrevocably smitten. Fuck. It hasn’t even been fifteen minutes! “So, which door am I entering from?”

“Left,” Geralt points. Jaskier skips over and begins to introduce himself to the sound and lights crew. His smile seems to be as infectious as his cheer and soon the entire set crew is smiling at one another. There’s been a literal shift in the atmosphere; if he didn’t know any better, the TW5 frontman thinks Jaskier might be some kind of magical creature, because he can’t just be human. Geralt is well and truly fucked, and everyone in the band already knows.

---

“What do you think?” Jaskier asks, slipping anxiously from behind the changing screen. The Versace is gone and in its place are a pair of tight, high-waisted blue pleather pants and a billowing white shirt, which has been strategically ripped in several places to reveal slivers of the lightly tanned skin that lies beneath. He looks like he’s in desperate need of rescuing. He looks like every fantasy Geralt has ever had about the perfect guy. He looks like a fucking dream.

“Nice,” he says.

Lambert and Aiden wolf-whistle and cheer as they approach. Aiden claps twice, loudly, and shoots Jaskier a set of finger guns, “Hot damn, baby. You single? You lookin’ to mingle? Because I am bi and spoon like a Pringle.”

“First of all, babe, I love you but that was the most horrific combination of words yet known to man. Second of all, yeah, I’d dump Aiden for you for sure,” Lambert adds. Jaskier is at a total loss for words. His mouth hangs open and his breath comes in uneven little gasps for a moment.

“Uh… I- Thank you?”

“Oh god, Eskel! Eskel, he’s short circuiting, do something.”

“You absolute-” Eskel groans and makes his way over to the gathered group. He tugs Jaskier away and over to the other end of the set, where a comically huge rocket/bomb (Jaskier can’t tell) is standing at the center of a vaguely science-themed room. A laboratory, maybe? Or like, a really weird spacecraft? A hospital run by rocket scientists? It doesn’t matter, it’s the Evil Lair of the Villain and that’s where Jaskier is being held captive. “Here, Cameron and Elise will help you get set up for the next scene. I’m sorry about the boys they’re... gay?”

“I understand,” Jaskier nods sagely and Eskel relaxes. Then for comedy’s sake he adds an equally dramatic, “I too am... gay.”

The set dresser, an electrician, and a few specialists (likely a rope rigger among them) come over and tie Jaskier to the bomb/rocket/villainous mechanism, ending his conversation with Eskel, who is now in a much better mood than he was before. 

Jaskier is told to make sure his hands are crossed behind the small of his back and the director instructs him to wiggle back and forth “as convincingly as possible without actually getting loose or moving the ropes too much”. Which is manageable, he supposes. 

“Then, when the chorus comes up, we’ll get a few shots of the boys dancing in front of you,” the director continues to explain. That’s… kind weird, but okay. I’ve seen weirder. “Then we’ll do the action shots, with Geralt rescuing you. Are you okay to do the kiss, or would you rather not? We have dynamic shots with or without, so it’s totally up to you.”

“I’m fine with that,” Jaskier smiles shyly. “I consent to be smooched.”

“Adorable,” Lambert calls. Jaskier blushes and the director shoots Lambert a glare. 

“He’s already pink enough, don’t make me change my gels you little shithead!”

“Sorry, Pierre!”

“Fucking sorry my ass,” Pierre grumbles beneath his breath. Then he smiles at Jaskier. “Do something nasty to him for me, will you? Not too nasty but… just a little?”

“I’ve got your back,” Jaskier winks. 

“No plotting! Not fair!” Aiden whines.

“You have a team,” Pierre retorts. “Now I have a team.”

“Rules are rules,” Eskel sighs. “Now can we please shoot this damn video?”

“Right,” Pierre claps, getting everyone’s attention. “Places!”

---

Geralt races up the stairs, trying to keep the long sleeves of his black mesh shirt from catching on any of the set pieces. The solid black t-shirt he’s wearing underneath makes his arms and back look bulkier than normal; it’s a visual technique to make him look larger than Jaskier, whose billowing white shirt will hide how wide his shoulders actually are. Fuck, those are some nice shoulders. And the smattering of dark chest hair that peeks from the front of the college student’s shirt? Geralt wants to bury his face in it.

Okay, focus. 

He reaches the top of the set and rushes towards Jaskier, ripping the ropes from around his torso and pulling him close. He cups the back of Jaskier’s head with his upstage hand, framing the slightly smaller man for the camera and making him seem even shorter, another trick of angles and body posturing. Geralt plays Jaskier like an instrument, bending him back by placing his downstage arm around Jaskier’s waist, pressing their mouths together and holding them still for as long as it takes the director to yell, “Cut!” with a satisfied tone of voice. 

Geralt’s suspicions are confirmed when Pierre laughs and claps some more and cries, “Print it, lads! That was a one-take wonder!”

He tries to ignore the way Jaskier’s shoulders slump as if disappointed. “Good job,” he manages to say.

“You, too.” Geralt wishes he could keep a picture of Jaskier smiling in his back pocket forever. No other sight could light up the world so effortlessly. “Thanks for being gentle.”

“I’m trying to sweep you off your feet,” the singer shrugs. Jaskier wiggles his eyebrows and follows Geralt down the narrow set stairs.

“Are you, really?”

“Is it working?” Geralt asks, turning to look up at Jaskier. The student pauses to look at him and his foot catches on an uneven board. He topples forward with a short cry of surprise and seems surprised when Geralt reaches out to catch him. “Jaskier!”

“Oh my god!” Lambert races over, Aiden hot on his heels. “Are you okay, dude?”

“I’m fine,”  Jaskier laughs, a little breathless. “Just a little shocked.”

“You should take him to get a snack or something,” Eskel says, nudging his shoulder against Geralt’s. “He’s been busy all day and hasn’t even been to craft services.”

“You haven’t eaten?” Geralt asks, honestly baffled. Jaskier shakes his head, face heating once again. He wishes he could stop blushing, but Geralt’s presence seems to make it impossible. He wraps one arm around the younger man’s temptingly slender waist and leads him towards the food carts. He shoves a couple of sandwiches and a bottle of punch into Jaskier’s hands, not giving him a chance to argue. “Here, I’ll have something, too.”

“Thanks,” Jaskier smiles, understanding that he is, in turn, being understood. They sit comfortable folding chairs off to the side, food spread across their laps. Jaskier laughs and chats around his mouthfuls, pulling things from Geralt like his favorite color and his least favorite nicknames. Songs he liked and dances he disliked. 

“You made it fun again, today,” the singer smiles. “Thank you for that. I wish you could be here for every video shoot.”

“Looking for another member of the band?” Jaskier jokes, doing some half-hearted jazz hands. Geralt shakes his head and laughs. 

“I wish we were,” he sighs. “But I guess five is the magic number.”

“Makes the dances look cooler,” Jaskier nods. “I agree with whoever made that decision. I wouldn’t dare ruin the aesthetic.”

Geralt laughs again and Vesemir turns to look, honestly shocked at the volume of the sound. 

“Plus, you can’t be the frontman if there’s no front.”

“Shut up,” Geralt chuckles, still grinning broadly. 

Vesemir makes a phone call.

---

2 Weeks Later, Backstage in Kaedwen

---

“He’s been sulking like this ever since Jaskier went back to Oxenfurt,” Lambert whines. “C’mon Vesemir, do something.”

“What do you want me to do, make Geralt’s boyfriend appear out of thin air?”

“Not my boyfriend,” Geralt growls, stomping past his bandmates and manager. He can’t help but feel grumpy. Jaskier had been like the sun, bringing light and wonder to everything he touched, and without that joy around it doesn’t seem worth the extra effort to smile. So he’s been moping. 

“Fucking hell,” Vesemir sighs. “Thank goodness I thought ahead.”

“What do you mean?” Eskel asks, joining the little group in the hallway outside the dressing room. “What did you think of?”

“Three,” Vesemir smiles, glancing at his watch. “Two… One…”

“Boooooys,” echoes a high tenor. “Where’s my welcome wagon, Vesemir?”

“Jaskier!” Aiden practically screams, leaping out of the dressing room and flying down the hall. Lambert follows at a sprint and Vesemir hears the resounding oof oh fuck of both giddy musicians hitting their mark. 

Geralt comes back down the hall at a jog, eyes searching frantically. “I thought I heard-”

“Geralt!”

Vesemir’s heart clenches in his chest at the way Geralt’s face lights up. At the end of the hallway, surrounded by spilled luggage and apologetic boyband members, is Jaskier. Geralt floats to him, it seems, like he’s dreaming the whole thing. Jaskier takes his hands and then releases them and wraps his arms low around Geralt’s hips instead. 

“I missed you the most,” he whispers, just for Geralt to hear. “Couldn’t sleep without listening to your CD. I know it’s silly but I really like you.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt whispers reverently into his shaggy brown hair. “What are you doing here?”

“I was going to do my thesis on pop culture’s relation to music history,” he says. “And then the manager of TW5 called Oxenfurt and offered me the opportunity to do some… first hand research while I worked on finishing the paper.”

“R-Really? You’re going to be here… every day?”

“Do you… do you not want me he-”

Geralt kisses him before he can even finish the question. It’s a stupid question anyway, of course Geralt wants him here. Wants him right here, kissing him silly. The singer presses his lips desperately, crushingly against Jaskier’s; he never wants to part from this man again. He never wants to be without that glorious laughter and contagious liveliness. Who knew that life could be so full of delight and happiness if he only let it? 

He kisses Jaskier for all he’s worth and more, pouring his heart and soul into it. When they pull apart, both gasping for air, Geralt asks, “Stay with me, Jaskier? You don’t have to do anything I just-”

“I’d love to be the big spoon,” Jaskier winks, whispering again. “Thank you, Geralt, for the rescue.”

[wrenhyperfixates]

Ever Since We Met

Prologue

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: After making a bet with Odin, Loki finally has a chance to prove he is worthy of being heir to the throne. Under mysterious circumstances, you find yourself stranded on Asgard, left with no option but to team up with Loki and help him win the crown. Now posing as visiting royalty, you must be careful of rumors in court that say you’re not who you claim, all while battling your growing feelings for the raven haired king. But some things are easier said than done because secrets, you’ll soon learn, can be deadly. Chapter Summary: Before Odin leaves for Alfheim, Loki makes one final bid for the throne. A bet that has the power to alter his future. Chapter Warnings: none :) A/N: Greetings guys, gals, and non-binary pals! I am beyond excited to share this story with you! It takes place pre-Thor 1 and will update every Friday until we reach the end in about six months. Without further ado, I hope you enjoy!

Permanent Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @lowkeyorlokificrecs @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @castiels-majestic-wings​ @kozkaboi @cozy-the-overlord @birdgirl90 @myraiswack​ @mythicalgarlicknot​

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⚜︎ Masterlist | Next >>

Disclaimer: Gif not mine.

Thankfully, the halls outside the throne room were empty, leaving plenty of space for Loki to pace back and forth. He never would have let his anxious energy show in front of others, but right now it was just him. The guards had gone in to announce Loki to his father, gain permission for him to enter. It was ridiculous that he couldn’t just waltz in, the prince thought. Then again, that’s all he was. A prince. Not the king.

See, Loki had been trying his whole life to prove his worth to his father, desperately attempting to show he was deserving of the throne. But nothing had worked, and whispers that Odin was going to announce his heir any day now were common throughout the kingdom. And not a single person was saying it was going to be Loki. Luckily, the younger Odinson didn’t give up so easily.

“Prince Loki,” one of the guards said with a little bow of his head as they re-emerged from the throne room. Loki immediately stopped his nervous movement and looked him in the eye. “The king will see you now.”

“Thank you, gentlemen,” Loki replied, regal as ever. “As you were.”

Taking a final gulp of air, he pushed through the heavy golden doors and walked towards Odin. As a child, Loki had always thought his father looked so imposing sitting on the throne, as if he had in his palm the fate of all people. Well, now Loki was grown, and he knew that the old man sitting in that glorified chair did hold someone’s fate. His. And if Loki wasn’t careful, Odin would crush his dreams, his destiny, without so much as batting an eye.

Loki’s heeled boots clicked on the cold floor, as if counting down the steps left before he could make his request. They were, perhaps, a bit more formal than something one might wear on a regular basis, but he figured why not dress to impress? His semi-formal cloak swooshed behind him, and he had to resist anxiously fiddling with the fabric. With his hair slicked back and combed perfectly in place, he thought he looked very princely, but if all went well, he was going to be far more than that.

“Your majesty,” he greeted Odin in the formal way he’d been taught since birth, bowing at his waist. Oh, how he so despised that part; if he had it his way, he’d never bow to anyone again. At least he didn’t have to kneel as most of the lesser nobles and commoners did.

“Rise my son,” Odin said with a wave of his hand. “Why have you felt the need for this audience so close to my departure?”

“Well, father,” Loki began. He summoned all his strength to keep up his nonchalant facade. “It has come to my attention that you have invited Thor to join you and mother on your diplomatic mission to Alfheim. An invitation, I might add, that he has accepted.”

“Yes, yes,” he yawned. “What of it? I hope you are not looking to come. The convoy is already full.”

“On the contrary, I think it best if I stay here.” Loki studied his father’s expression a moment before continuing. “To rule the kingdom.”

It was painfully silent in the near-empty throne room. And then Odin began laughing. Not chuckling, but full on laughing at his son. This was perhaps the most embarrassed Loki had ever felt, and there wasn’t even anyone else in the room. But all he wanted was to show his father he was capable of ruling. That he would make a far more competent king than his oaf of a brother. This was a critical moment, he knew, and he couldn’t let any cracks in his armor show. He kept his face completely neutral as his father slowly ceased his cackling.

“And why should I allow for that. You see, Loki, I have already chosen my successor, and it is not you,” Odin bluntly explained as Loki’s blood began to boil and hopes began to drop. Maybe this was just a nightmare, and he’d wake up to make his plea for real. No such luck. “The official announcement was going to come upon my return, but it seems cruel to keep it from you now.”

All the times Loki played this out in his head, it never went quite this poorly. Never in his wildest dreams had he been expecting Odin to admit what he already knew deep down; he’d lost. But all his training, his preparing, his effort to show that he was the one deserving of the crown, could it really be for nothing?

“Come now, my son,” Odin said when Loki took too long to reply. He wondered if his father was trying to have a comforting tone. If he was, he was failing miserably. “You always knew I would have to pick one of you. That only one of you could take the mighty throne of Asgard.”

Yes, but I should be the victor, Loki thought, ignoring the tears pricking the back of his eyes. The last thing he would do was cry in front of the Allfather. Especially when he still had a chance to make this work in his favor. All he had to do was keep it together for the next fifteen minutes and alter his argument a little. If Odin was taking drastic measures, maybe that’s what he had to do, too.

“I do not think you should act so rashly, father,” Loki spoke up, voice impressively even. “After all, you have yet to hear my proposition.”

“And what might that be? Speak, son, and tell me.”

“Let me rule Asgard while you are gone. If I do well, you wait to make your decision on who will be your heir, allow me to continue to compete for the crown.”

The old king laughed again, not as loudly as before, but just as unkindly. “Why would I do that? I see no way in which this benefits me.”

“On the contrary, as a prince, I would have the right to plead my case to the Allmother if you took me out of the running. It would be a long, tedious process if you had to go through all the right channels to prove my brother is better suited for the kingship. And then again, they might not even find that he is. Or I could even challenge Thor for the crown, if it comes down to it. Such scandal to mark the end of your reign would be a shame, do you not agree?” He paused for dramatic effect, and to let the words sink in. “However, should I do poorly on the throne, I would have no argument to make, and would back down peacefully.”

The tension was so thick, Loki was tempted to whip out one of his daggers to try to cut it, and give himself room to breathe. But even the subtlest of movements would give way to an accusation of weakness, so he stood where he was, his piercing gaze staring into his father’s one eye, waiting for him to speak. Odin tapped his fingers on the arm of his throne, mulling over the very thinly veiled threat. By the time the king was opening his mouth to speak, Loki felt ready to scream.

“Very well,” he finally conceded. “But your success will be according to my terms. There are three things a good king needs. The first is the respect of those he rules. The second, fear and awe of his enemies and allies alike.”

Loki’s eyes flitted down for the briefest of seconds before looking up with renewed confidence. “And the last?”

“Worthiness,” Odin continued, standing up and walking down the steps, “to have the crown on his head.”

More eagerly than he would have liked, Loki nodded. He was certainly clever enough to figure out a way to prove he had each of those. It seemed that his silver tongue had not failed him today. But before he could say he accepted the terms, Odin had one last stipulation to add.

“You may not set foot out of the kingdom. Everything must run smoothly while you are here. Is this understood?”

“Yes, father, it is. And you will not interfere with my reign,” Loki replied, distrusting something about the look in the old man’s eye. “So then, do we have a deal?”

He considered for a moment more. “Yes, we do. From the moment I leave tomorrow until the second I return, you will be acting king of Asgard.”

“Thank you, father. You will not regret this,” Loki said, bowing again before leaving.

Whether he left before his father could say anything or if he never planned to at all, Loki wasn’t sure. It hardly mattered anymore. Now, his future was nearly set, for certainly he was already admired to some degree, right? Or even if he wasn’t, he’d been preparing for this day his whole life, studying his father. He knew how to be king, and he’d be damned if he let anything ruin this opportunity.

After a fitful night of sleep, Loki saw his family and their entourage off at the Bifröst. True, he was more than eager for them to leave already, but he did his best to mask it. After all, his eagerness may be mistaken for arrogance, and that was no way to start his reign.

“Alright, brother. I bid thee well,” Thor said, clapping him on the back. As far as Loki was aware, neither he nor anyone else knew of the specifics of the bet that had been made, save for his mother and Heimdall, who had been tasked with keeping an eye on him. “Do not get too comfortable on the throne, though.”

“Good luck, my son. I have every confidence in you,” Frigga said, cupping his cheeks.

Loki looked to Odin for him to speak some final words of parting. When he didn’t, Loki said, “Thank you, brother, mother. I wish you all safe travels and shall be awaiting your return.”

He waited until they disappeared into the rainbow lights and, with a nod in Heimdall’s direction, headed back towards the palace. The throne. Almost reverently, he circled it once before sitting down. Feeling perfectly pleased with himself, Loki didn’t even notice the bright flash of light in the distance. Nor what came with it.

[cjsinkythoughts]

A History Lesson

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 4741

Warnings: Vulgar language, I think that’s it (it’s mainly fluff like Bucky’s)

Summary: You never were fond of history...but if history gives you a man like that? Maybe you could deal with it.

A/N: Here it is! A little later than I had hoped, but my brother is visiting, it was his birthday this week, work’s been a bit hectic, and I ended up writing a little something for Bucky’s birthday on Wednesday, which I didn’t mean to. I got it done, though! First Date with our dear Cap’n Spangles! I have all the First Date ideas for the other Avengers lined up, but I think I’m gonna put this on hiatus for now. I’m gonna try focusing on my College!AU at the moment. If you guys want, I’ll share my First Date plans, though. If I find time, I’ll write the next one. If you haven’t noticed, I have a fondness for collages, so I might do what I’m doing for my College!AU Project and make collages for the other First Dates before writing them. Anyways, enough with my ramblings. Enjoy the date!

You keep checking the clock, waiting for this lecture to be done. You typically enjoy school, but history isn’t a strong suit for you. You try in history, you really do, but all the information - the dates, people, places - it’s too much. You constantly mix things up, no matter how hard you study. And you don’t really get the hype. Who cares what these dead guys did? It happened, it’s done, and it’s time to move on.

“That’s all for today! Don’t forget your papers are due on Monday! You’re dismissed!”

You let out a groan at the mention of the cursed research paper. You had stayed up for hours the previous nights working on it, but so far you have squat. The essay is on the Second World War (more specifically the differences of life between Americans and Europeans at the time), and you know you should’ve done it when it was given a week ago, but your shitty memory makes it difficult to write a paper without five million textbooks in front of you and you don’t have time to go to the library every night between work, friends, and other projects. So, you haven’t done it yet.

Exhausted, mentally and physically, you collect your things and head out of the lecture hall. You pull out your phone to text your friends, telling them you have to work on a paper tonight and you can’t meet up for dinner like you all usually do on Fridays. Deciding to take a breather before working, you start out to the bench overlooking the Potomac River, which you always sat at to relax and just…be. The scenic walk through DC and the sight of the steady river flowing besides the busy city always calms you. 

You sit there for a few moments, letting the slight breeze chill the skin that’s warmed by the sun, listening to it ruffle the trees. The blush pink blossoms that appear when Spring sings her song and chases away Winter flutter to the newly grown, bright green grass below. You enjoy all the seasons, unable to help but love the unique beauty each brings, and Spring is no exception, despite the allergies and tests she brings.

And speaking of tests…

A soft sigh passes your lips as you get out your laptop. You might as well start writing, or at least researching, that paper. You never were good at relaxing when there’s work to be done.

You’re so engrossed in getting the stupid essay done and over with that you don’t notice the jogger who pauses in his run by the very bench you are slaving away on. “Savin’ this seat for anyone?”

“Huh? Oh, uh, no. Go ahead.” You answer distractedly, not even looking up from your screen as the owner of the deep voice sits besides you.

A few more minutes pass in comfortable silence, before you ruin it with a grumble and delete half the paragraph you just wrote. “That doesn’t make sense.” You change tabs to look over the information on the page you have pulled up again, only to furrow your eyebrows. You’re pretty sure the information is wrong. You may have a shitty memory, but you’re sure that the information given on this page is in contrast to the information given in the book you were reading a couple days ago.

“What’re you workin’ so hard on there, honey?”

You let out a huff, throwing your hands up in the air in defeat. “Some dumb research paper for school! It’s on World War Two, and I can’t remember what’s right and what’s wrong and it’s a stupid topic anyways that my stupid teacher assigned! Who fucking cares about a hundred years ago? And how the hell am I supposed to know this? I wasn’t alive! You know what I…”

The words die on your tongue as you finally glance over at the stranger keeping you company.

Blonde hair that seems gold with the way the sun is hitting the strands, which are damp and in slight disarray due to his exercise. Bright blue eyes reflecting the sky above, hidden beneath long lashes that you’re immediately envious of. Pretty pink lips, matching the cherry blossoms on the trees surrounding you, pulling up into an amused sort of smile. The makings of a beard lining his jaw and littering his cheeks.

Steve Rogers. Captain America. You just ranted about how stupid history is to Captain fucking America. You just ranted about how you have to write a dumb essay on World War Two to Captain fucking America.

Ignoring the way your body heats up, starting in your toes and climbing up your legs, chest, and neck to reach the tips of your ears, a nervous little chuckle is all you can give. You clear your throat, trying to think of how to apologize. “I guess you wouldn’t know what I mean, huh?”

What in the ever loving fuck was that? That was not an apology!

You clear your throat and try again. “I-I mean…sorry. It’s not - I didn’t mean-”

“No, no. It’s fine, sweetheart.” The grin he shoots you makes you glad you aren’t standing up, knowing full well your knees would’ve buckled if you were. You open your mouth to apologize again, but he shakes his head before you can speak. “Really. It’s okay. I get it. I used to be a student too. And you’re right; it was a long time ago and there’s a lot of things that happened. Even I have a hard time keeping track of everything that went down.”

You merely blink at him, nodding slowly. Say something. For the love of God, please just say something. Anything! “Yeah. I can barely remember what I had for breakfast this morning.” Really? You’re sitting besides the one and only Captain America and that’s what you decide to say?

You feel yourself slump your shoulders slightly, trying to shrink down into absolute nothingness. But even that wouldn’t work because he’s got that friend of his that could shrink and he’d find you. It seems that you were destined to be embarrassed in front of one of the most beautiful human beings on the planet. Screw the universe.

Instead of teasing you or embarrassing you further, he chuckles and nods in agreement, his eyes lighting up. “You’re not the only one. My pal Clint has got the absolute worst memory. We tease him all the time for it. How he became an agent with the memory of a goldfish, I’ll never know.” You laugh at that, your muscles relaxing and your anxiety easing up.

“Yeah, well, I’ve gotta get through college before I’m in the clear.”

“Don’t worry about it, honey. I’m sure you’ll be fine. Uh…so, a World War Two paper, huh? Need some help? I’m kind of an expert on the topic.”

Breath hitching as he scoots closer, you swallow thickly and shrug. “I don’t want to bother you. You look like you’re in the middle of a run.” You gesture to the tight ass t-shirt hugging his torso that you’re sure is sizes too small for him and the joggers hanging off his hips.

Following your gesture, he looks down, before shaking his head. “Nah. I’ve already ran a few more miles than I was going to today.”

“Are-are you sure?”

There’s that grin again. You’re not sure you’ll be able to survive him tutoring you if he keeps  giving you that adorable toothy smile. “Honest. I’ve got the rest of the day. We can go to the library if you want. Or we can stay here. Whatever works best for you. I don’t mind either way.”

You blink again, like an idiot, as you process his words. Whatever works best for you. What a gentleman. “Uhh…I was about to head to the library anyways, but I really don’t want to bother you-”

“Trust me, honey. It’d be my pleasure.”

“If you insist.”

“I do.”

You let out a soft laugh and nod at his insistence, starting to pack up your things. “Okay. I’m Y/N, by the way.” You stand up as he does and offer your hand.

“Steve. But I guess you figured that out.” Taking your hand, you expect him to shake it, but he squeezes it softly and brings it to his lips instead.

Clearing your throat, you tease him a bit to hide your bashfulness at his actions. “You’re a real gentleman, aren’t you?”

He shrugs with a slight smirk, gently dropping your hand and letting it go after another squeeze. “My momma raised nothing less.”

“I’m sure she’d be proud.”

His playful eyes go slightly more somber at that, his smirk morphing into a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

Giving no reply, you smile softly and nod your head to the path. He nods back before quickly falling into step besides you, asking you more about your paper as you walk to the library.

* * * * * * * *

Giggling behind your hand to stay quiet, or at least attempt to since you both had already been berated by the librarians for being too loud, your attention is once again diverted to Steve and his stories.

It started out fine; he helped you find reliable books and told you which things were true. But not even half an hour passed before Steve told you a story about the Howling Commandos after something in a book reminded him of it. Your concentration since then has been split between your paper and Steve’s retelling of his past.

“Sorry. I keep distracting you. What’s next?”

You snicker again and shake your head. “No, no. It’s okay. I’m almost done anyways. I’ve actually written down a few things you said, if you don’t mind me using them. My professor can’t exactly argue with Captain America, now can he?”

His lips pull up and his shoulders shake in silent laughter. “I guess not. Of course I don’t mind. You can quote me anytime. See?” He nudges you with his shoulder playfully. “History isn’t so bad.”

“Not when you’re telling it.” You respond earnestly, grinning up at him.

“Eh, Bucky’s always been a better storyteller than me.” He gives a little shrug and rubs the back of his neck.

You shake your head at his modesty. “Well I think you do just fine. You’re the first person to get me interested in history. Hey, can you read this over for me? I just need to finalize this paragraph and do the conclusion.”

When you receive silence as an answer, you look over at the blonde with an eyebrow raised. The ocean eyes scanning over you make you a bit self conscious, so you shift slightly in your seat, making him come back from whatever thoughts overtook his mind. “Sorry. Of course I can, honey. That’s what I’m here for. Let me see.”

He gives you a few pointers on what to add and what to get rid of, before you finally finish, saving your work and closing your laptop with a huff. 

“What a mind workout. I’m sure my brain’s got abs now.”

Heads swivel towards you two as Steve guffaws, a lady a few tables down shushing him. He apologizes, still snickering. “Abs, huh?”

“I mean, not as good as yours but…” You freeze, inwardly facepalming. And you were doing so well.

He gives you a cheeky grin. “I’ve got good abs?”

“Oh don’t give me that!” You hiss out quietly. “You know you have good abs. I’m just stating facts is all.”

Another soft chuckle leaves those pretty lips and he twists in his seat to crack his back before standing to collect the books you both got out. “When’s the paper due again?”

You stand to help him, but you get a case of the butterfingers just as you go to pick the books up, making the pile tumble to the floor. “Ah shit.” Steve smiles gently at you as you huff and give him an exasperated look. “My bad.”

He snickers, bending down to help you despite having his own books to carry, like the gentleman he is. “So? Due date?”

“Monday.” You answer with a sigh, straightening up. You carefully set the books on the table to pile them better. “We should get the grade back by Friday.”

He hums, taking a few more books in those strong arms of his. “Ah, well, you’ll get a good grade. I believe in you.”

You smirk at him as you shift your bag so you could carry books under your arms. “I’m sure I will with your help, Captain.” He scoffs and rolls his eyes at your teasing manner. “Thank you, by the way.”

“Of course. I had a good time.” He sends that stunning smile your way and this time you are standing. Luckily you have a table to lean on casually instead of falling on your face. “Plus, now you’ve got a free weekend.”

“Ugh. I wish.” You shake your head. “This is my final semester before I graduate. There’s loads to do. But this makes it easier.” Heading through the aisles of the library, you catch sight of the time on a clock on the wall and your eyes widen. You’d been there for a little over three hours! “Damn! I’m sorry I took up your Friday, though. I’m sure there’s things you want to do before you have to go back to New York, huh?”

Shrugging his broad shoulders, he runs a hand through his golden locks and drops the books he had in his arms on the desk for returns. “Not really. I’m here for the next couple weeks, actually. Meetings and stuff. Plus, it doesn’t even take me an hour to get here, so I can really come whenever I want.”

“That’s nice.” You follow his lead and set your books down, readjusting your bag on your shoulder. “I wish I could go to New York whenever I want. I’m way too poor for that.”

He chuckles again. You’ll never get tired of the sound of his laughter. “I’m sure you’ll get there one day.”

You shrug half heartedly, not really believing him. You’re barely making it in DC. There’s no way you could make it in the Big Apple. “Sure. Someday. I’m serious, though. I’m sorry you wasted  your time with some stressed out college student instead of enjoying time with your friends.”

“I’m serious too, honey. It’s no problem; I enjoyed it. And it’s not a waste of my time. Not as long as you get a good grade.”

You laugh as the two of you head out of the building, stopping on the steps and facing each other. “How will you know if I get a good grade?”

He purses his lips in thought. “Meet me at the bench next Friday.” He finally said, his eyes sparkling. “Then we’ll see. Until then, Y/N.”

You grin, taking the large hand he offers you, firmly shaking it before he can kiss your knuckles, making him snicker. “Until then, Steve.”

* * * * * * * *

Feet pounding against the concrete, you practically jump when you spot the man already sitting at the bench. “Steve!” You shout happily, waving your paper in the air. The blonde shoots up, a brow raised in curiosity. “I got a 97!”

You come to a halt in front of him, but it’s too quick, so your clumsy feet trip over each other. Before you can fall, he catches you with ease, smiling down at you in amusement. Small pants leave your lips as sweat trickles down your spine. Where’s that breeze when you need it?

“Uhm…oops?” What the hell was that?! That was embarrassing, that’s what it was!

He chuckles, straightening you up. “You were saying?” 

With pride lifting up the corners of your mouth, you shove the paper at his chest, once again grateful that he ignored your blunderings. “97%!”

“I told you you’d be fine. And I knew it wasn’t a waste of my time.” Steve looks up from the paper to give you a toothy grin.

“Thank you again.” You take the paper he hands back to you and shove it in your bag. “I probably would’ve failed the class without this grade. Is there really nothing I can do to pay you back for your time?”

He taps his chin in faux-thought, before tilting his head innocently. “You can loan me some of your time on Sunday.”

You purse your lips, confusion written over your features. “My time? On Sunday? Oh!” You light up, figuring he just needs help with something. “Yeah, duh. Okay. What do you need help with? I can promise I’ll try my hardest, but I might not-”

“No, no. Honey, that’s not-” he laughs, shaking his head and grabbing your hand to make you stop rambling. “I’m askin’ you out.”

“Out?” You pause, registering what that meant. “Like…on a date?” Is he serious? There’s no way he wants to go on a date with you. You pretty much called his life story boring, to his face, and then made him spend three hours on a Friday evening at the library working on a college paper with you.

He snickers with a nod. “Yes, on a date. So whaddya say, sweetheart?”

“Yes!” You blurt out without thinking, before you shy back, feeling yourself heat up as you tend to do around this God of a man. “Y-yeah. Yeah, I’d love to. Sunday. I can do that.”

He beams adorably, like a child being allowed to buy his favorite candy bar. Or a puppy with his favorite toy. Yeah…he reminds you of a puppy. Which only makes him that much cuter.

“Awesome! Meet me here at noon. Does that work?”

You nod vigorously. “That works perfectly.”

“Perfect.” He repeats, before taking your hand and bringing your knuckles to his lips once more.

* * * * * * * *

You’re sitting on the bench, tapping your toes nervously and checking your phone every minute. He said noon and it’s only eleven thirty. It’s a bit inconvenient, to say the least, when the place you go to relax is the place you’re meeting the person making you anxious. You could barely sleep the previous night, too many doubts lingering in your head. You seem to always be making a fool of yourself in front of him, but he was the one who asked you out, so that had to count for something.

You try not to think too hard about it, instead thinking back to last Friday in the library and how his features lifted when he told stories of his childhood and the Howling Commandos and the grin he got when he told you about the things they used to do that would get them in trouble.

“But I’m Captain America, and who’s gonna say no to this face?”

A little giggle leaves your lips as you remember his words, before you’re startled back to reality as a familiar smooth voice sounds besides you.

“Whatcha giggling at, honey?”

You whip over to see Steve grinning in amusement, leaning on the back of the bench. Your eyes drag down his figure. Another too tight t-shirt showing every ridge and curve on his torso, a jacket over his broad shoulders along with a casual pair of jeans. You had seen a meme about Steve having the proportions of a Dorito and, looking at him now, you can see how true it was. It almost makes you laugh again, but you remember what exactly is happening, and you suddenly can’t find anything funny.

“Sweetheart? You alright?”

“Huh? Oh. Yes. Yeah. I’m fine. I was just…thinking.”

He raised an eyebrow, smirking and leaning his forearms against the back of the bench next to where you’re sat. “And those adorable little giggles?”

There’s that familiar flush that you’ve learned to ignore, praying to God he didn’t notice your heart skipping a beat. “Uh, I just remembered something. That’s all.”

He gives a little hum, before hopping over the back and landing besides you. “Seems like we both had the same idea. Gettin’ here early.”

“If you must know, I was just…” You shrug. “To be honest, I’m a little anxious.”

“I’m not that scary, am I?” He teases, nudging you gently.

You roll your eyes and give him a look. “I don’t think there’s a bone in your body capable of being scary. I’m just…I’m nervous I’m gonna embarrass myself…again.”

Steve shakes his head, looking at you earnestly. “You’re not gonna embarrass yourself.”

Picking at the hem of your shirt, you scoff, shaking your head. “I already have. The amount of times I’ve tripped or said something stupid or rambled, which I’m doing right now, or-”

“Honey, honey. Slow down.” The blonde chuckles. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I find all of those things endearing. Now, the amount of times I’ve seen my teammates slip and fall on their faces while chasing an enemy? That’s embarrassing. Just the other day, Buck tripped on the roof of a car. Sam has it recorded.”

You let out a laugh at that and nod. “Okay, okay. Sorry. I didn’t mean to get all insecure on you-”

“It’s fine, Y/N.” Steve insists. “Now,” he stands and offers his hand. “Let’s go get some lunch, yeah?”

You look at his hand before looking up at him and taking it without hesitation. “Okay.”

* * * * * * * *

After rounds of questions during lunch, Steve took you around the Smithsonian to all the different museums. Just like history, you had never been overly fond of museums. You typically walked around for a little bit, never really reading the information, only enjoying the pictures.

It’s different with Steve. Just like how it was different writing the research paper with him. He makes everything interesting, telling you his own facts and stories. Especially once you get to his exhibit in the Air and Space Museum.

Once you arrive, he puts on a hat and ducks his head, trying not to bring attention to you both while on a date. You tease him a bit, swinging your linked hands as you walk in with a cheeky grin. He nudges you with his elbow, his own smile painted on his lips.

You can’t help but listen and hold onto his every word, as if you’d die if you forget a single sentence. The light in his eyes as he talks about his past, showing you the pictures and plaques excitedly. Like a child during show and tell, he’s practically skipping from exhibit to exhibit, dragging you along behind him.

Giggling at his elation, you eagerly, and with no resistance, let him take you through his story. “They keep updating it.” He explains as you leave the area with World War Two and the Howling Commandos, entering through a corridor with modern pictures of him and the Avengers. “Every couple years or so they call me and tell me they’re adding another thing.”

“Doesn’t that get annoying?” You wonder, reading a wall about the Battle of Manhattan with interest. “Your whole life being put on display for everyone to see?”

Steve shrugs. “I dunno. I’ve never really minded. They don’t put in personal things, so it’s not too bad. You could learn more from the internet about me.”

You nod, knowing how true that really was. “You’ve got a point. Still. It must be a bit weird being a national icon.”

“I’ll admit, people stopping me on the street is getting a little old. I used to wish to be someone who changed the world. Now I have and sometimes I wish I could be normal. But I wouldn’t change what I’ve done. Who I am. Not if people can learn from it. Not if I can keep people safe.”

Turning away from the wall to glance at Steve, who has his hands in his pockets studying the wall, you smile and tilt your head. “You’re a good man, Steve Rogers.”

He turns to you, his lips pulling up. “That’s all I hope for.” His voice is quiet, earnest, before it becomes lighter as he gestures back to the wall. “You know the first thing we did after winning was go out for shawarma? It was Tony’s idea.”

“No way.” You laugh. “All six of you?”

“Yeah! We go there for every Battle of Manhattan Anniversary, now. I’ll take you some time. It’s a nice place.”

“Is that a promise?”

He smirks at your teasing tone. “Absolutely.”

* * * * * * * *

After your museum hopping, he takes you to Arlington Cemetery to show you a few friends and fellow soldiers he met all those years ago. It’s such a personal intimate thing that he shares, and you think you shouldn’t be there to witness it, but he’s quick to reassure you that’s not the case. That he wouldn’t have anyone else by his side, listening to his stories.

By the time you get back to the city, it’s getting dark, so you two head out for dinner before Steve takes you up the Washington Monument to look at the city lights. He makes sure you have the top all to yourselves; there’s perks of being an Avenger - especially one of the leaders.

“Alright, alright.” Leaning on the rail, you turn to him with a smile. “So maybe history isn’t as bad as I originally thought.”

“Yeah? I convinced you, did I?”

You roll your eyes at his smirk, shoving his shoulder lightly. “Maybe a bit. But only when you’re telling it. You think there’s any way you could come to history with me?” You joke with a laugh, feeling yourself flush at the chuckle and grin he gives you.

“I wish I could, honey.” He spoke softly, running a thumb over your knuckles. “Unfortunately, I’ve got work to do. I’m heading back to New York tomorrow. I’ll be back on Friday, though. If you would want to-”

You beam and nod energetically. “I’d love to go out again, Stevie.”

Giving your hand a squeeze, he beams back. “Fantastic.” He looks back out to the window and gives a little sigh. “It’s gettin’ late and you’ve got class tomorrow.”

“Yeah. I should probably get going. Do you, I mean, would you mind walking me home?” You blink up at him through your lashes hopefully.

“Of course!” His eyes - which you found throughout the day weren’t entirely blue, but had some green hues to them - lit up as you two start towards the elevator. He tucks you under his strong arm, pulling you close. “You wanna get ice cream or something on the way?”

“You read my mind, Captain.”

* * * * * * * *

By the time you reach your door, you’ve both finished your ice cream and he’s telling yet another story while you laugh, once again swinging your linked hands. 

When it comes time to say goodbye, you can’t help but wish your hand could stay in his for a while longer. Knowing that you’d be saying farewell, you hold on a bit tighter. “Pick me up on Friday?”

He nods, squeezing your hand before letting it go and brushing his fingertips along your cheek. “I’ll call you later too, alright, sweetheart?”

“Okay.” You agree eagerly. “You gonna kiss me goodnight now, soldier?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He chuckles softly, before gently grabbing your chin. Using his other hand, he pulls you closer by the waist, pressing his lips to yours. It’s soft and sweet and perfect, just like him, but it ends too quickly for your liking. He pulls back, nudging his nose against yours, and murmuring against your lips. “Sleep well.”

You smile, leaning your forehead against his. “Good night, Stevie.”

Stepping away, he lifts your knuckles to his lips. “G’night.”

You stop him before he could turn all the way. “Steve?” He pauses to look over his shoulder at you with an eyebrow raised. You have a question, and you can’t help but ask it, it having been on your mind for days. “Why’d you stop your run just to sit by me?”

“And leave a beautiful dame like yourself before I could get your name? I may be a super soldier, honey, but I’m still a man. Abyssinia Friday, Y/N.”

[thewhitefluffyhat]

Pre-Release Predictions

[This is the first part of a collected liveblog/analysis of Nona the Ninth! See here for the other parts.]

Let’s preface this endeavor with my expectations before I began reading…

Feeling Ambivalent, Bordering On Nervous

For most people, Nona is arriving with sky-high anticipation after an agonizingly long delay. But for me…

Well, the truth is, my pre-ordered copy of Nona actually arrived last Friday (9/16), and I spent the weekend procrastinating on reading it.

The first reason for this is very silly. I feel like I just joined this fandom and am nowhere near catching up on all the analysis! So I’m in a weird place where I wish Nona was delayed longer. As if I could say “wait, no, I’m not ready yet!” (Are any of us ready, really? :P)

But maybe it’s a good thing Nona is coming out now.

After all, my track record for jumping into franchises in-progress has been uh, kind of terrible? I tend to get into fandoms just as the next installment sets the fandom into a tailspin of disappointment, frustration, and ugly discourse between defenders and critics. I’ve been there, I’ve done that, I’ve literally got t-shirts I don’t want to wear anymore because of it.

So it’s entirely unwarranted - I loved GtN and HtN - but I find that I can’t help but brace for disappointment regardless.  

Anyway, the point is, I don’t actually have very high expectations for Nona? I just have my fingers crossed that it clears the low, low bar of not setting this lovely fandom on fire, please. If it does that, I’m out.

The Ten Billion Dollar Soul Question: Who is Nona?

I subscribe to the theory that Nona is Alecto in some form, possibly fused with Gideon in some way. It makes sense with what we last saw of her and Gideon (Alecto reaching for her in the River). And, of course, the book was originally the first act of Alecto the Ninth.

I also subscribe to the theory that Alecto is the Ninth Resurrection Beast, the revenant of Earth and the ten billion souls that died.

Meanwhile, I haven’t actually read the pre-released chapters, but I’ve seen people’s reactions to them. I’ve also read the news about the book, including Muir’s interviews. From these, I’ve gleaned that Nona seems to be a very carefree, loving, and above all, innocent character. She has no sense of shame, no filters on what she should or shouldn’t express.

All of which actually fits very well with the idea of Nona as “Earth.” Of Nona being essentially an anthropomorphization of “Mother Nature” - she’s all-loving, but don’t mess with her when she’s angry!

But these theories might be completely wrong, in which case, I can’t wait to see who she is!

Okay, But ACTUAL Predictions

All in all, my guess is that Nona is unlikely to change many headcanons or theories regarding Gideon or Harrow. Unfortunately this is because I suspect there just won’t be much Gideon and Harrow content in it. At the very least, we last saw Harrow settling in for a long and well-deserved nap in HtN. It would be only fair to give Gideon more time to shine on her own!

[Brief Alecto spoilers: Also, given that the “Alecto excerpt” had Harrow waking up exactly where we saw her last, it’s possible she might not feature in this book at all.]

If that’s the case, I’ll definitely miss Harrow, and Gideon as well if she’s absent. But on the upside, from the pre-released chapters it sounds like we’ll be getting a lot of Cam and Pal. (Cam and Pal as Perfect Lyctors??) And I did quite enjoy “The Mysterious Study of Doctor Sex,” so that should be fun!

And then there’s Pyrrha. We could infer some things about her personality from her brief appearances in HtN, though details were quite scarce. But now, she’ll be playing a larger role, so hopefully we’ll get a much better sense of her character!

I’m also expecting to see at least some of Coronabeth and Judith, though I have no idea what they’ll be up to. (Taking over the Blood of Eden, perhaps?) Oh! And Ianthe, of course. I’ve read some great fics where she has to deal with John being depressed after the end of HtN, so I’m really looking forward to seeing how that goes in canon! Like, of course Ianthe is going to get worse, but in what way? :D

Last of all… this is a series that isn’t shy about killing off its important and beloved characters. So: will all of the aforementioned characters make it out of Nona in one piece? I’m about 50/50 on this.

Nona, of course, has an expiration date from the start. That’s right there in the book’s summary blurb, that Nona is afraid she’ll have to give her body back. By the end of the book, she’ll almost certainly be forced to - which could mean many different things, but all of those ways imply Nona-the-amnesiac will be gone.

If someone else also dies, then my top pick would be Pyrrha. For all their supposed powers, Lyctors have an even worse attrition rate than the House scions!

My second guess would be Cam and Pal. If Muir wants to go for the most painful gut punch, they’ll be the ones to go. Judith just wouldn’t have the same impact, not after she was basically assumed dead at the end of GtN. And the foreshadowing with Corona and Ianthe is that they both have ambitious, far-reaching plots, plots which I doubt will get resolved in Nona.

Really, the only thing that makes me think all these characters might still have a chance is that Nona was originally just the first act of a longer book. Even if these deaths do happen, they might be slated for later on!

And on that ominous note...

Next: Day One >>

[rivalsforlife]

The AAI Cast Takes On Twitter

Hello! For the release of ace attorney investigations 2 ten years ago, on the official AA twitter account, Capcom posted a bunch of tweets that were made to sound like they came from the characters themselves. You can still find them if you dig far enough, but it’s a bit of a pain to find and especially a pain to understand in English, so I decided to compile them all here and attempt to translate them. (They have also been “localized” in true ace attorney fashion.)

First, a disclaimer: I am absolutely NOT a translator and my understanding of Japanese is abysmal. I put the original tweets through google translate and then went through trying to make them legible, including looking up words and phrases when they didn’t make any sense. As a result, I can’t guarantee that this is completely accurate, and I definitely messed with phrasing a bit to get things to flow better or sound more in character. Hopefully the general gist of things should make sense! I’ll put the original Japanese text below the English one, and if you actually know Japanese and would like to properly translate it, please do so! I just wanted to get this out here as fast as possible.

If you want to view the original tweets, I’ve filtered them (mostly!) here in reverse-chronological order. There are tweets from the game staff at the end that I did not “translate”.

With that said, here are the tweets. (It is long, so most of it is under the cut.) The breaks are things I added that I believe were breaks in time on the actual account, and represent new scenes.

-----

<Edgeworth>: I was told to “tweet” what I usually think about to commemorate the release of “Ace Attorney Investigations 2”... What should I do?

<Kay>: Come on, Mr. Edgeworth! First, you need to introduce yourself!

<Edgeworth>: Oh. Sorry for the late introduction. My name is Miles Edgeworth, a prosecutor at the District Attorney's Office. Kay informed me that this is “Tweeter”. 

<Kay>: No! It’s pronounced "Twitter"!

<Edgeworth>: Is it "Tweeter"? I'm not very good at this kind of thing ...

<Kay>: Okay, moving on. Ace Attorney Investigations 2 is about to be released, and Mr. Edgeworth has a lot to say, right?

<Edgeworth>: Mm. Certainly, there are few opportunities like this, so this should be a valuable experience.

<Kay>: Then this Great Thief, Kay Faraday, will teach Mr. Edgeworth the fun of tweeting!

<Edgeworth>: I’m not very interested in that… but alright. More importantly, Kay, do you want to start working soon?

<Kay>: Yes! Then, we can play later!

<Edgeworth>: (Well, if you have any questions, do not hesitate to tweet.)

<Kay>: Mr. Edgeworth ... Your inner voice is in the tweet! Isn't that neat?

<Edgeworth>: Ah! Tweeter… I shouldn’t underestimate it. 

-----

<Edgeworth>: It's already 12 o'clock ... I wanted to take a break for lunch, but it seems that I won’t get the chance. The detective just reported a new case. I'm heading to the scene right now.

<Edgeworth>: Detective Gumshoe seems to have been in a hurry. He said he “lost something important”... It’s probably not something to worry about. I should concentrate on the investigation first. It takes a careful investigation to find out the truth hidden in the scene. There are many things that cannot be understood from desk work alone.

<Edgeworth>: I've arrived at the scene. Mm? It seems that some pencils have fallen near the victim.

<Edgeworth>: Search for the connection between information. That is the pursuit of "Logic". Assembling "Logic" is the key to the investigation even in Ace Attorney Investigations 2. “Something lost by Detective Gumshoe” and the “pencil left on the scene” ... There is one answer that can be derived from the two pieces of information.

<Edgeworth>: Detective Gumshoe! It seems that we found your lost pencil. ‥‥ Don’t leave extra evidence on the scene!

<Edgeworth>: Hmm ... Finally, the truth of the scene has come into view. This case will likely be resolved soon.

-----

<Kay>: Good evening! I came to play as promised!

<Gumshoe>: Welcome, Kay!

<Kay>: Huh? Gummy, are you also on Twitter?

<Gumshoe>: It’s popular among my detective friends. As long as my number of followers keeps increasing, I’m happy!

<Edgeworth>: What is a "follower"?

<Gumshoe>: Well, people who read your tweets. To put it simply, it’s like a friend group.

<Kay>: It seems that there are many people who are watching this tweet! Ehehe. That makes me kind of happy!

<Edgeworth>: Hmm. Friend group...? That sounds a little embarrassing, but thank you, followers.

<Kay>: Hmm. I feel that followers and friends are a little different. Well, as long as he’s happy.

<Edgeworth>: Let’s say that tomorrow we’ll spend more time with our followers on Tweeter.

-----

<Gumshoe>: I've been waiting for you, Prosecutor Edgeworth!

<Edgeworth>: Mm. Good morning Detective Gumshoe. It's rare for you to get to court earlier than me.

<Gumshoe>: That’s because I have to set a good example for my followers! I skipped dinner last night so I wouldn't be late.

<Edgeworth>: What does skipping dinner have to do with getting up early?

<Gumshoe>: Well, it sets a “belly clock”, so you wake up at breakfast time!

<Edgeworth>: (There are too many problems with that, and I don't feel like pointing them all out... I’ll just stay silent.)

<Gumshoe>: Mr. Edgeworth ... We can see the tweets of your inner voice, you know…?

<Edgeworth>: It's about time for the court to open. I'm heading into court without any uncertainty today.

-----

<Kay>: Hello everybody! I'm Kay Faraday, also known as the Great Thief Yatagarasu. Fufufu ... I’m actually in the gallery right now! I wanted to see Mr. Edgeworth and Gummy in court, and keep an eye on the enemy!

<Kay>: Oh! Mr. Edgeworth screamed, “Objection!” This is the 5th time today. The other lawyer is sweating now. The judge’s gavel is getting fierce! Eh -- what? “You can’t tweet in the courtroom…?” Hey!

<Kay>: Uh ... I was kicked out of the courtroom. As expected by the new rival of Ace Attorney Investigations 2, Justine Courtney! She seems like a kind judge, but also very observant.

<Kay>: This is an unexpectedly strong enemy! Mr. Edgeworth, are you okay ...?

<Edgeworth>: Kay. What were you doing in the gallery today?

<Gumshoe>: I was surprised to see Kay being kicked out of court!

<Kay>: I didn't think that tweeting was prohibited. As a Great Thief, this is the ultimate mistake!

<Edgeworth>: If you have time to regret breaking the rules of the court, use it to learn a little more about them.

<Kay>: If I had to leave the court anyways, I wanted to have a cooler exit, befitting of a Great Thief!

<Gumshoe>: … I don’t think she regretted breaking the rules. 

<Kay>: Anyway! You’ve already finished your work today, right?

<Edgeworth>: Yes, I finished my work in the courtroom today. It looks like we can have a nice holiday.

<Kay>: So, why don’t the three of us go play together! Bowling, karaoke, game centers, etc.!

<Edgeworth>: No ... I'm not very good at such things.

<Gumshoe>: Since it’s Friday night, why don’t we play around and recover from working hard! I think watching movies would be fun!

<Kay>: Yeah, you worked so hard this week! Now, let’s go play!

<Edgeworth>: *sigh*. Whatever I say, it’ll be a waste of time… If we must, at least make it a movie.

-----

<Gumshoe>: This Saturday morning is a nice time for a walk! I sometimes take a walk with Missile to build strength and give him training. As the “partner” of Prosecutor Edgeworth, I want to be useful in Ace Attorney Investigations 2!

<Gumshoe>: When investigating with a metal detector or collaborating with Missile, I will be second to none! Hey, Missile! Hmm? Is a scent bothering you? Aaaaa! Mi-Missile has run away! He must’ve smelled food.

<Gumshoe>: When this happens, I have to rely on the odor to chase after it! This is part of the investigation process! Uh… I lost him right away. When this happens, I have to prepare sweets that Missile likes to lure him in! …  I’m so overwhelmed.

<Kay>: It’s a shame to keep Missile as a police dog. He stole away Samurai Dogs from this Great Thief and ate them…! I was trying to eat with Ema.

<Gumshoe>: Sorry about that, pal. By the way, what were you doing together? Collecting fallen leaves…?

<Ema>: We’re grilling Samurai Dogs on this fire we made from scientific chemicals!

<Gumshoe>: Huh. Scientific chemicals, pal…? Mi-Mi-Mi-Mi-Missile! Do you feel alright?

<Kay>: It’s fine! He ate it before we started the fire.

<Gumshoe>: Oh. I wish I got to have some...

<Edgeworth>: It’s not good to use chemicals to play with fire, Ema. Scientific research is important, but please use moderation.

<Ema>: Yes! Moderation! By the way, are you going somewhere?

<Edgeworth>: Yes. I have some business. ... I don't have much time, so excuse me.

<Kay>: ... Mr. Edgeworth, where are you going?

<Ema>: Fufufu. In this case, we can follow his footsteps! Using the power of science… in moderation!

<Kay>: Alright! Let's follow him… in moderation!

<Gumshoe>: They both have a strange definition of “moderation”...

-----

<Kay>: That overwhelming scale! I think I’m going to cry! That’s a first for an orchestra concert!

<Ema>: The powerful sound of brass instruments and the splendid melody of woodwind instruments! Scientifically speaking, changing between different sounds is what makes music good.

<Edgeworth>: Umm. While I was looking forward to today, I didn't expect you two to follow me.

<Kay>: I wanted to bring Gummy as well, but he had to walk Missile, so he couldn’t come with us.

<Edgeworth>: The detective can still hear the “Ace Attorney Investigations 2 Orchestra Arrangement Collection” CD. You can pre-order one at E-Capcom.

<Ema>: I already pre-ordered it, of course! I’ll also get the 1:10 figure of Mr. Edgeworth!

<Edgeworth>: A 1:10 figure of myself? I don't remember measuring my height, but ...

<Kay>: That's because I stole Mr. Edgeworth's height perfectly!

<Edgeworth>: I'm a little hesitant to say it in the orchestra hall, but let me just say one word.

<Kay>: "Objection!"

<Edgeworth>: Wha…? How did you --!

<Ema>: This must be the famous technique of the Great Thief, stealing the words right out of his mouth! How informative!

-----

<Edgeworth>: I have no plans today, so I will spend my time reading at a nearby coffee shop. Naturally, I want to relax on Sundays.

<Edgeworth>: I’m drinking high-quality black tea in a comfortable sunny place. Today is going to be a good day off.

<Edgeworth>: Speaking of which, the other day, a follower named “Wendy” greeted me here on Tweeter. I don’t know how to return messages, so I haven’t done so yet. Let me thank you here. Ms. Wendy, thank you for following me.

<Oldbag>: E… Edgey-pooooooo! I finally found youuuuuuu!

<Edgeworth>: Gah! What are you doing in this coffee shop ...!?

<Oldbag>: No way, Edgey-poo! Just now, didn’t you say this on Twitter? Didn’t you just say “Ms. Wendy, thank you”? You made this old lady so happy! I just ran around all the coffee shops and searched for you everywhere, Edgey-poo. The power of lo

<Edgeworth>: Do you talk too much to fit on Tweeter? So, “Wendy” was you! No matter how many coffee shops you visit, there’s no way you found me so easily… Are you hiding something?

<Oldbag>: If you say that without evidence, you’d tarnish the title of “prosecutor!” I have nothing to hide from my dearest Edgey-poo!

<Edgeworth>: Hmm… Even without evidence, if I read your reactions and feelings, I can expose the truth while only using my words.

<Oldbag>: Oh, I heard about this, Edgey-poo! Isn’t it called “Logic Chess”? I know everything about you, Edgey-poo!

<Edgeworth>: What do you mean by “I know everything?”

<Oldbag>: You see, it’s because I’m a security guard. Recently, because the whippersnapper who was there before me got fired, I was temporarily guarding the prosecutor’s office. At that time, I just so happened to see your address, Edgey-poo.

<Edgeworth>: …………… I didn’t even need to pull out information, and you’re already telling me the answer!

<Oldbag>: Oh. It was a slip of the tongue. I thought I would get to see Logic chess.

<Edgeworth>: Well, could you see it in Ace Attorney Investigations 2? Please excuse me, I have very important business to attend to.

<Oldbag>: You mentioned that you have no business today! Today, I will never let you go!

-----

<Edgeworth>: Ngh… That was quite the disaster today.

<Edgeworth>: I was too careful just because it was a holiday. I was neglecting my remarks and wasn’t vigilant of those around me ...

<Edgeworth>: Mm? Now “Tweeter” is showing something from “Wendy”. … “Sorry. - Wendy.” … I’m not going to respond to that!

-----

<Gumshoe>: Prosecutor Edgeworth, did you hear? Agent Lang is coming from the Republic of Zheng Fa!

<Edgeworth>: Hm. Is he also involved in an international case? I didn’t have the opportunity to talk to him for long the last time. If I have time, I’ll go greet him.

<Gumshoe>: The last incident was a difficult one. I couldn’t talk much with Agent Lang’s subordinates, either.

<Gumshoe>: There are 100 people who know about it.

<Edgeworth>: If you tried to talk to everyone, the sun would set before you did.

<Gumshoe>: To be honest, I gave up trying to remember my own face and name.

<Edgeworth>: That’s just being lazy!

-----

<Lang>: Yo, Mr. Prosecutor. It's strange to see you in a place like this.

<Edgeworth>: It's been a long time, Agent Lang. I never thought we would meet again at a restaurant like this.

<Lang>: I just happened to see this place while I was looking for somewhere I could go alone.

<Edgeworth>: Alone ...? That’s unusual for you. Aren’t you usually with your subordinates?

<Lang>: Well… Lang Zi says: “To know the feelings of a lone wolf, you should leave the pack.” Sometimes I do things on my own.

<Edgeworth>: Is that so? However, I see a contradiction right there on your table.

<Lang>: Hah! Is that the prosecutor’s famous “deduction”?

<Edgeworth>: For someone eating alone, you ordered a lot of “platters”, which seem to serve over twenty people.

<Lang>: Arooooooo! ‥‥Oops. It seems I have a habit of ordering too much. If you don’t mind, Mr. Prosecutor, would you take a little?

<Edgeworth>: It seems that you’re not very good at acting alone.

-----

<Kay>: Eh? Agent Lang’s coming here again?

<Edgeworth>: Ah, yes. Unlike before, though, it seems like he’s acting alone for some reason.

<Kay>: Isn’t that because it’s difficult to sneak around with too many people? It’s an important rule for a Great Thief!

<Edgeworth>: He is an “international investigator”, not a “Great Thief”. … Anyway, he seemed to come to this country for some purpose.

<Kay>: Then, we might meet him again at a crime scene.

<Edgeworth>: Even if we both desire to pursue the truth, our paths often run counter to each other. If I meet him in the field, we may argue.

<Kay>: That’s nice. I also want a rival that will change me as a person! Ahh… I wonder if they’re out there… the rival who wants to hunt down the Great Thief!

<Edgeworth>: If you want to be arrested so badly, ask Detective Gumshoe.

<Kay>: Ugh! You just don’t get it!

-----

<Kay>: It's finally February!

<Edgeworth>: Oh. So it is...

<Gumshoe>: I'm looking forward to February 3rd!

<Gumshoe>: At our police station, we will sow beans for the bean-throwing festival! February 3rd is a precious day when you can eat soybeans for free!

<Kay>: Every year, I challenge myself with how many beans I can throw! “Out with the demons, in with the fortune, and in with the Great Thief’s treasure!”

<Edgeworth>: Did you forget the most important thing?

<Kay>: I was just kidding! Of course I remember what’s happening February 3rd!

<Gumshoe>: There is no reason to forget the release date of Ace Attorney Investigations 2!

<Edgeworth>: Mm ... I hope.

-----

<Edgeworth>: It’s three days before the game goes on sale. I hope the followers look forward to it as well.

<Edgeworth>: Investigating in winter is necessary, even if it’s cold, and you can’t catch a cold before the game goes on sale. Ergo, please take proper measures against the cold.

<Edgeworth>: Speaking of which, Detective Gumshoe wears the same coat all year round. Doesn’t that get cold? Ah… maybe it’s just that his salary is too low to buy anything else.

<Edgeworth>: ……… Should I invite Detective Gumshoe for dinner? What little I know about his eating habits worries me. I don’t think he’d eat instant noodles in winter… 

<Edgeworth>: There is a handmade udon restaurant near the prosecutor's office. The taste is satisfying for a reasonable price. ‥‥‥‥‥‥ Though, when it comes to inviting Detective Gumshoe, I shouldn’t limit myself to just noodles.

<Edgeworth>: Mm. I tweeted that it was only 3 days before the game’s release, but it was 2 days. I worked all night in the office yesterday. It seems my sense of time has gone haywire.

<Edgeworth>: What I tweeted then was contradictory… Pardon me. Thank you, followers who pointed that out.

---

<Gumshoe>: This pork roast is delicious! This is my first one of the year!

<Edgeworth>: Detective Gumshoe. Stop eating while tweeting!

<Gumshoe>: I've been eating only plain pasta this year. I couldn’t help myself!

<Kay>: I could, but I still tweeted!

<Edgeworth>: It may not be instant ramen, but his eating habits are always in crisis.

<Gumshoe>: Ugh... every time I make a mistake while investigating, the cost of living becomes a crisis.

<Kay>: But the one who is in the most danger right now is Mr. Edgeworth, isn't it? I saw it in a commercial! He’s having his “biggest crisis!”

<Gumshoe>: I heard it too ... What kind of mistake did you make, sir?

<Edgeworth>: Don’t compare me to you! I don’t know what it is, but I’m not afraid of any crisis. No matter what happens, I simply do what I think is right.

<Kay>: As expected of Mr. Edgeworth! Well, you can always count on this Great Thief to help you in an emergency!

<Gumshoe>: Of course, I will help too! If you want to manage your living expenses in a crisis, sir, just leave it to me!

<Edgeworth>: First, could you try helping me as a detective?

-----

<Kay>: By the way, Mr. Edgeworth, what kind of person is your father?

<Edgeworth>: … Why would you suddenly ask such a question?

<Kay>: I just asked Mr. Shields. He said your father was a very good person! I also respect my dad, so I was a little curious about yours.

<Edgeworth>: When I was a child, he was someone I highly respected, and… the kind of man I aspired to be.

<Kay>: Huh? Is it different now?

<Edgeworth>: ……… About that… It’s difficult to explain. If you want to know the answer, please wait until tomorrow.

<Kay>: I see! The answer is hidden in Ace Attorney Investigations 2. I’ll be sure to steal the truth about Mr. Edgeworth!

-----

<Kay>: Gummy! Please decorate it from the right side!

<Gumshoe>: Here it is! Oh no, the decoration fell!

<Edgeworth>: What are you doing in my office in the middle of my workday?

<Gumshoe>: I’m off duty, but since today’s the eve of the release date, I’m preparing a party!

<Kay>: It's almost time to tweet! Mr. Edgeworth, please work and just ignore us!

<Edgeworth>: If you truly want that, then please stop climbing on my desk. … I’ll finish work soon, so please wait until then. 

<Kay>: Eh! Are you going to help us?

<Edgeworth>: I would like to celebrate.

<Gumshoe>: That’s helpful, sir! Then, I’ll be sitting on the sofa and waiting until it’s time!

<Edgeworth>: ‥‥‥‥‥‥‥ Just wait in the corridor.

-----

<Gumshoe>: Cheers for the release of Ace Attorney Investigations 2!

<Edgeworth>: Hmm ... This party for the eve of the release is rather nice.

<Kay>: Ehehe. Tomorrow, we’ll give it our all!

<Edgeworth>: Umm. Thank you very much.

<Kay>: This is the last of our tweets ... It's a little regrettable.

<Edgeworth>: But I’m glad I had this opportunity to directly express my gratitude for the week. Those who were watching our tweets… let me thank you again.

<Gumshoe>: I still have something to talk about, but we’re already out of time!

<Kay>: But the eve of the release has only just begun! After this, you can talk to the development staff of “Ace Attorney Investigations 2” directly!

<Gumshoe>: Oh! Is that the plan?

<Kay>: I’m certain, because it’s information I stole from Capcom! It seems like it will start around 18:00!

<Edgeworth>: I do have a lot to ask, but let's leave that to the followers. Well then, excuse us for now.

<Edgeworth>: If you have any questions for the development staff, please quickly send them in!

------

Translation notes first:

The localized foods are as follows: 

dorayaki -> Samurai Dogs (since Missile also has a habit of eating those, though I don’t believe the original was dorayaki?)

somen -> instant ramen

katsudon -> pork roast

shirataki -> plain pasta

The “bean-throwing festival” is Setsubun, a festival where you toss soybeans and eat some in order to toss out bad luck and bring in good luck (to my understanding, please correct me if I’m wrong). What Kay said (minus the Great Thief part) is one translation of  a phrase you shout while throwing the beans. I obviously gave up on trying to localize this.

------

Original Japanese (minus breaks):

〈ミツルギ〉：『逆転検事２　発売直前記念』として、私が日頃思っていることを“つぶやく”ように言われたのだが‥‥どうすればいいのだろうか？

〈ミクモ〉：ダメですよミツルギさん！まずは自己紹介からしないと！

〈ミツルギ〉：ム。紹介が遅れてすまない。私の名前は御剣怜侍、地方検事局で検事をしている。ミクモくんに教えてもらったのだが、これが“ついたー”というものなの���な。

〈ミクモ〉：違いますよ！“ツイッター”ですってば！

〈ミツルギ〉：“ついったー”か。こういったアレは、あまり得意ではないのだが‥‥。

〈ミクモ〉：まあまあ。逆転検事２も発売間近ですし、ミツルギさんも言いたいこといっぱいあるでしょ？

〈ミツルギ〉：ム。確かにこういった機会は少ないから貴重ではあるな。

〈ミクモ〉：それじゃ、この大ドロボウ・一条美雲ちゃんが、つぶやく面白さをミツルギさんに教えちゃいますよー！

〈ミツルギ〉：そちらはあまり興味がないが‥‥まあいいだろう。それよりミクモくん。そろそろ仕事を始めたいのだが？

〈ミクモ〉：はーい！　それじゃ、また後で遊びに来ますね！

〈ミツルギ〉：（まあ、気になったことがあれば気軽につぶやくとするか）

〈ミクモ〉：ミツルギさん‥‥。心の声がつぶやきに出てますよ！興味津々じゃないですか！

〈ミツルギ〉：なッ！ついったー‥‥あなどれんな。

〈ミツルギ〉：もう１２時か‥‥優雅にランチといきたいところだが、そうもいかないようだ。先ほど刑事から新たな事件の報告が入ったのでな。いま、現場に向かっているところだ。

〈ミツルギ〉：イトノコギリ刑事は、“大事な物をなくした”と慌てていたようだが‥‥どうせたいした物ではないだろう。いまは捜査に集中するべきだ。現場に隠された真実を知るには、入念な捜査を必要とする。デスクワークだけでは分からないことも多いのだ。

〈ミツルギ〉：‥‥現場に到着だ。ム？被害者の近くに“えんぴつ”が落ちているようだな。

〈ミツルギ〉：情報同士の共通点を探す。それこそが《ロジック》を追うということだ。逆転検事２でも《ロジック》を組み立てることが捜査の重要なカギを握っている。現場に残された“えんぴつ”と“イトノコギリ刑事がなくした物”‥‥２つの情報から導き出せる答えは１つ。

〈ミツルギ〉：イトノコギリ刑事！キミが無くしたというえんぴつが見つかったようだ。‥‥現場に余計な証拠品を残さないように。

〈ミツルギ〉：ふむ‥‥‥‥ようやく現場の真実が見えてきた。この事件は早急に解決できそうだ。

〈ミクモ〉：こんばんわ！約束通り遊びにきましたよ！

〈イトノコ〉：いらっしゃいッス！ミクモちゃん！ 

〈ミクモ〉：あれ？ノコちゃんもツイッターやってるんだ？

〈イトノコ〉：刑事仲間の間でも流行ってるッスよ。フォロワーもどんどん増えて、うれしい限りッス！

〈ミツルギ〉：‥‥“フォロワー”とは何なのだろうか？ 

〈イトノコ〉：えーと。自分のつぶやきを読んでくれる人たちのことッス。簡単に説明すると“トモダチの輪”って感じッスかねえ。

〈ミクモ〉：このつぶやきを見てくれている人たちも、たくさんいるみたいですよ！えへへ。なんだかうれしいですね！

〈ミツルギ〉：ふむ。トモダチの輪‥‥か。少々恥ずかしくもあるが、ありがたいことだな。

〈ミクモ〉：うーん。フォロワーとトモダチとはちょっと違うような気もしますケド‥‥。ま。喜んでいるみたいなのでいいや！ 

〈ミツルギ〉：明日も“ついったー”で、フォロワーに恥じぬ時間を過ごすとしよう。

〈イトノコ〉：お待ちしてたッスよ！御剣検事！

〈ミツルギ〉：ム。おはようイトノコギリ刑事。私よりはやく裁判所に着くとはめずらしいな。

〈イトノコ〉：フォロワーのみんなに、カッコ悪いとこを見せられないッスからね！遅刻しないように、昨夜は夕飯を抜いておいたッスよ。

〈ミツルギ〉：夕飯を抜くのと早起きをするのに、何の関係があるというのだ。

〈イトノコ〉：すさまじい“腹時計”で、朝ご飯の時間に目覚めることが出来るッス！

〈ミツルギ〉：（問題が多すぎて、指摘する気にもなれん。‥‥ここはあえて黙っているとしよう）

〈イトノコ〉：御剣検事‥‥。心の声のつぶやきが自分にも見えるの、分かってやってるッスよね‥‥？ 

〈ミツルギ〉：そろそろ開廷の時間だ。余計なセンサクをしていないで、法廷に向かうぞ。

〈ミクモ〉：みなさんこんにちは！大ドロボウ・ヤタガラスこと一条美雲です。ふっふっふ‥‥実はいま、傍聴席にいるんですよ！敵情視察も兼ねて、ミツルギさんとノコちゃんの法廷姿を見ておこうと思って！ 

〈ミクモ〉：あ！ミツルギさんがまた『異議あり！』って叫んでる！今日はこれで５回目ですねー。相手の弁護士さんも汗だらだら流してますよ。裁判官の木槌も激しくなってます！えーとなになに？“法廷内でのつぶやきは却下しま‥‥す？”え。ちょ、ちょっと！ 

〈ミクモ〉：ううう‥‥‥‥法廷内から追い出されちゃいました。さすがは逆転検事２の新ライバル“水鏡　秤”さん！優しそうな裁判官だと思ってユダンしていました。

〈ミクモ〉：これは思わぬ強敵ですよ！ミツルギさん、大丈夫かなあ‥‥？ 

〈ミツルギ〉：ミクモくん。今日は一体傍聴席で何をしていたのだ。

〈イトノコ〉：法廷から追い出されるミクモちゃんを見て、ビックリしたッスよ！

〈ミクモ〉：まさかつぶやきが禁止とは思いませんでした‥‥。大ドロボウとして、一生の不覚です！

〈ミツルギ〉：後悔するヒマがあるのなら、法廷のルールについてもう少し学んでおきたまえ。

〈ミクモ〉：どうせ退廷させられるのなら、もっとカッコ良く立ち去りたかったです！大ドロボウとしては！ 

〈イトノコ〉：‥‥そっちで後悔しているとは思わなかったッス。

〈ミクモ〉：それはともかく！　今日はもうお仕事終わりなんですよね？

〈ミツルギ〉：今日の法廷で仕事は一段落ついたからな。気持ちよく休日をむかえられそうだ。

〈ミクモ〉：せっかくだから、いまから３人で遊びに行きましょうよ！ボーリングとかカラオケとか‥‥ゲームセンターとか！

〈ミツルギ〉：いや‥‥私はそういったものはあまり得意ではないのだが。

〈イトノコ〉：まあまあ。金曜日の夜はパーッと遊んで、仕事の疲れを癒すものッスよ！映画とかもいいッスねえ！

〈ミクモ〉：今週もお仕事お疲れ様でした！さあさあ。遊びに行きましょう！

〈ミツルギ〉：まったく。いまのキミたちには何を言ってもムダのようだな。‥‥せめて、映画にしてくれたまえ。

〈イトノコ〉：土曜日の朝は散歩日和ッスねえ！ミサイル。体力作りとミサイルの訓練も兼ねて、たまに一緒に散歩してるッスよ。御剣検事の“パートナー”として、逆転検事２では自分も役に立ちたいッスからね！ 

〈イトノコ〉：金属探知機を使った捜査やミサイルとの連携なら、誰にも負けないッス！ねー。ミサイル！ん？何か気になるニオイでもあるッスか？ああああッ！ミ、ミサイルが走って行っちまったッス！ミサイルは食べ物のニオイがすると突っ走っちゃうッスよ。

〈イトノコ〉：こうなったら自分もニオイを頼りに追いかけるしか！こっちも捜査のプロッスからね！うぅ‥‥‥‥‥‥さっそく見失っちまったッス。こうなったら、ミサイルが好きなお菓子を用意しておびきよせるッス！‥‥本末転倒な気もするッスけど‥‥。

〈ミクモ〉：警察犬にしておくには惜しいですね、ミサイル。まさか大ドロボウから“どら焼き”を盗み食いするなんて‥‥！せっかく、あかねちゃんと２人で食べようとしてたのになあ。

〈イトノコ〉：おどろかせてすまねッス。ところで、さっきは２人で何をしてたッスか？落ち葉をこんなに集めて‥‥。

〈アカネ〉：ヒゾウのカガク薬品でおこした火を利用して、あったか～い “焼きどら焼き”を作ろうかと！

〈イトノコ〉：え。カガク薬品ッスか‥‥？ミミミミミサイル！お腹の調子は悪くないッスか！

〈ミクモ〉：大丈夫だよ！火をおこす前に食べられちゃったから。

〈イトノコ〉：ほっ。だったら良かったッス。

〈ミツルギ〉：ぜんぜん良くないだろう。カガク薬品を使って、公共の場で火遊びなど。あかねさん。カガクの研究は大事ですが、ほどほどにしていただきたい。

〈アカネ〉：はい！ほどほどにします！ところで、どこかにお出かけですか？

〈ミツルギ〉：ええ。少し用事がありまして‥‥。あまり時間がないので、失礼します。

〈ミクモ〉：‥‥ミツルギさん、どこに行くんだろうね？

〈アカネ〉：ふっふっふ。そんなときは足跡を辿ればいいんですよ！ほどほどにカガクの力を使って！

〈ミクモ〉：よーし！ほどほどに尾行しましょう！

〈イトノコ〉：２人とも‥‥ほどほどの使い方がおかしい気がするッス。

〈ミクモ〉：あの圧倒的なスケール！涙なしには語れません！オーケストラコンサートなんて初めてです！

〈アカネ〉：金管楽器の力強い音と、木管楽器の華麗な旋律！音のカガク変化を起こすことで、音楽は作られているんですね‥‥。

〈ミツルギ〉：うム。この日を楽しみにしていたかいがあったというものだ。‥‥まさか、キミたちまでついてくるとは思わなかったがな。

〈ミクモ〉：ノコちゃんにも聞かせてあげたかったな−。ミサイルの散歩があるから、一緒に来られなかったんですよね。

〈ミツルギ〉：刑事には、サウンドトラックＣＤ「オーケストラ・アレンジ楽曲集　〜奏でられし逆転〜」を聞かせるとしよう。いまからでもイーカプコンで予約出来るだろう。

〈アカネ〉：あたしはもちろん予約済みです！御剣検事さんの“1/10フィギュア”もバッチリゲットしますよ！

〈ミツルギ〉：私の1/10フィギュア？身長などを測られた覚えはないが‥‥。

〈ミクモ〉：そりゃもう、わたしがミツルギさんの情報をバッチリ盗んでおきましたからね！ 

〈ミツルギ〉：オーケストラホールで言うのはいささかためらわれるが‥‥一言だけ、言わせていただこう。

〈ミクモ〉：“異議あり！”‥‥ってね！

〈ミツルギ〉：な‥‥なぜキミが言うのだ！ 

〈アカネ〉：これが有名な大ドロボウの技“言葉を盗む”ですね。勉強になります！

〈ミツルギ〉：今日は特に予定が入っていない。近くの喫茶店で読書をして過ごすとしよう。‥‥さすがに、日曜日ぐらいは落ち着いて過ごしたいからな。

〈ミツルギ〉：心地よい日の当たる場所で、上質の紅茶を飲む‥‥。今日は良い休日になりそうだ。

〈ミツルギ〉：そういえば、先日“カオルさん”というフォロワーから、ついったーでアイサツされたのだが‥‥。アイサツを返す方法が分からなかったので、まだ返せていないのだ。ここで改めて礼を言わせていただこう。カオルさん、フォローしていただき感謝する。

〈オバチャン〉：ミ‥‥ミッちゃぁああん！やっと見つけたよぉおおお！

〈ミツルギ〉：ぐッ！ど、どうしてあなたがこの喫茶店に‥‥！

〈オバチャン〉：やだよミッちゃん！こないだこのツイッターとやらでアイサツしたじゃないか。さっきも“カオルさん、感謝する。”って言ってくれただろう？オバチャンうれしくなっちゃってねえ。ついついそこいらの喫茶店を巡ってミッちゃんを探しちまったのさ。愛のチカラっ

〈ミツルギ〉：は、早口すぎて“ついーと”におさまっていないではないか！しかも、“カオルさん”とは‥‥‥‥あなたのことだったのか！いくら喫茶店を巡ったといっても、こんなにカンタンに見つかるワケはない。‥‥何か隠していることがあるのではないか？ 

〈オバチャン〉：ミッちゃんったら、証拠もないのにそんなこと言っちゃ検事の名がすたれちゃうよ！オバチャンがミッちゃんに隠し事なんてするわけないじゃないのサ！

〈ミツルギ〉：フッ‥‥証拠品がなくとも、あなたの反応や感情を読み取り“言葉のみ”で真実を引き出してみせよう。

〈オバチャン〉：ああ。それならオバチャンも聞いたよ、ミッちゃん！《ロジックチェス》っていうヤツだろ？オバチャン、ミッちゃんのことなら何でも知ってるんだからね！

〈��ツルギ〉：“何でも知っている？”‥‥とはどういうことだろうか？

〈オバチャン〉：ほら。オバチャン警備員だからさ。このあいだ、前に勤めてた子がクビになったっていうから臨時で検事局の警備をしてたんだヨ。そのときにミッちゃんの住所がたまたま目に入っちゃってサ。

〈ミツルギ〉：‥‥‥‥こちらから情報を引き出すまでもなく、自分で答えを言っているではないか！ 

〈オバチャン〉：あら。つい口が滑っちまったヨ。せっかくロジックチェスが見られると思ったのに残念だねえ。

〈ミツルギ〉：そ、それは逆転検事２で見ていただけないだろうか。私は用事があるので失礼する！

〈オバチャン〉：今日は用事がないってつぶやいてたじゃないか！今日という今日は、オバチャン絶対に逃がさないヨッ！ 

〈ミツルギ〉：く‥‥今日はさんざんな目にあった。

〈ミツルギ〉：休日だからといって気を抜きすぎていたな。自分の発言や周囲の警戒を怠っていたとは‥‥。

〈ミツルギ〉：ム？また“カオルさん”から私あてに“ついーと”が来ているな。『残念無念　カオル』‥‥と言われても、断じて誘いに乗るつもりはない！

〈イトノコ〉：御剣検事、聞いたッスか？ロウ捜査官が西鳳民国から来ているみたいッスよ！

〈ミツルギ〉：ほう。また国際的な事件に関わっているのだろうか。彼とはあまりゆっくり話す機会が無かったからな。時間があればアイサツぐらいは行くとしよう。

〈イトノコ〉：前回の事件は大変だったッスからねー。自分も、ロウ捜査官の部下の皆さんとはあんまり話せなかったッス。

〈イトノコ〉：なんせ知ってるだけでも１００名はいるッスからねえ。

〈ミツルギ〉：‥‥全員と話そうとすれば、日が暮れてしまうだろうな。

〈イトノコ〉：正直、顔と名前を覚えるのもあきらめたッス。

〈ミツルギ〉：すべてをあきらめているではないか！ 

〈ロウ〉：よう。検事さん。こんなところで会うとはキグウだな。

〈ミツルギ〉：久しぶりだな、ロウ捜査官。まさか、このような飲食店で再会するとは思わなかったが。

〈ロウ〉：どっか１人で落ち着ける店を探してたら、たまたまここが目に入ったんでな。

〈ミツルギ〉：１人‥‥？キミにしてはめずらしいではないか。いつもの部下たちは一緒ではないのだろうか？ 

〈ロウ〉：まあな‥‥。狼子、曰く！“単独犯の気持ちを知るには、群れを離れるべし”ってな。オレだって１人になるときはあるさ。

〈ミツルギ〉：ほう？だが、それにしてはキミのテーブルにはムジュンがあるようだ。

〈ロウ〉：ハッ！検事さんお得意の“推理”ってやつかい？

〈ミツルギ〉：１人で食べるにしては、注文した料理は“大皿”ばかりで、量はどう見ても２０人以上に見えるのだが？

〈ロウ〉：うおおおッ！‥‥しまった。いつものクセでつい頼みすぎちまったようだ。よければ検事さん、少しもらってくれねえか？ 

〈ミツルギ〉：‥‥１人で行動するのは、あまり得意ではないようだな。

〈ミクモ〉：ええ！ロウさん、またこっちに来てるんですか？

〈ミツルギ〉：ああ。以前と違い、なぜか１人で行動していたようだ。

〈ミクモ〉：それは、やっぱり大人数だと忍び込むのが難しくなるからじゃないですか？大ドロボウの鉄則です！ 

〈ミツルギ〉：彼は“国際捜査官”だろう。‥‥なんにせよ、彼には目的があってこの国に来ているようだったな。

〈ミクモ〉：それじゃ、また現場で会うかもしれませんねー。

〈ミツルギ〉：真実を追い求める気持ちは同じでも、時にはぶつかることもある。もし現場で出会うことがあれば、戦うことになるかもしれないな。

〈ミクモ〉：いいなあ。わたしも自分を高めてくれるようなライバルが欲しいです。ハア‥‥どこかにいないかなあ。大ドロボウを追い詰める好敵手！

〈ミツルギ〉：‥‥逮捕されたいのなら、イトノコギリ刑事にでも頼みたまえ。

〈ミクモ〉：もう！そういうことじゃないんです！ 

〈ミクモ〉：ようやく２月になりましたね！ 

〈ミツルギ〉：ああ。いよいよだな‥‥。

〈イトノコ〉：２月３日が楽しみッス！

〈イトノコ〉：ウチの警察署では、節分の豆まきをやるッス！２月３日は、タダで大豆が食べられる貴重な日ッスよ！

〈ミクモ〉：わたしは毎年、投げられる豆をどれだけ受け取れるか挑戦してるんですよ！“鬼は外、福は内、大ドロボウは盗み”って感じで！ 

〈ミツルギ〉：‥‥一番大事なことを、忘れているのではないだろうか？

〈ミクモ〉：冗談ですってば！２月３日といえば、もちろんアレですよね！

〈イトノコ〉：逆転検事２の発売日を忘れるワケないッス！

〈ミツルギ〉：ム‥‥ならばいいのだが。

〈ミツルギ〉：発売まであと３日。フォロワーの方々も楽しみに待っていてくれたまえ。

〈ミツルギ〉：冬場の捜査は、寒くてかなわないな‥‥。発売前に風邪を引くわけにはいかん。しっかり防寒対策をしなければな。

〈ミツルギ〉：そういえば、イトノコギリ刑事は年中同じコートを着ているが、寒くないのだろうか‥‥。ああ‥‥単に、給与が下がりすぎて買えないだけかもしれないな。

〈ミツルギ〉：‥‥‥‥夕食はイトノコギリ刑事でも誘うとするか。彼の食生活は、はた目から見ていても不安になる。まさか冬にそうめんを食べていることはないだろうが‥‥。

〈ミツルギ〉：検事局の近くに手打ちのうどん屋がある。リーズナブルな値段の割に、味も満足のいくものだ。‥‥‥‥いかん。イトノコギリ刑事を誘うとなると、ついつい麺類にばかり考えがいってしまうな。

〈ミツルギ〉:ム。さきほど発売まであと３日とつぶやいたのだが、発売日はあさって‥‥あと２日だったか。昨夜は、執務室で徹夜仕事だったのでな。日付の感覚が狂ってしまったようだ。

〈ミツルギ〉:私としたことが、つぶやきが“ムジュン”していたとは‥‥失礼した。指摘してくれたフォロワーの方、感謝する。

〈イトノコ〉：カツ丼美味いッスぅううう！今年初めてのトンカツッスよ！

〈ミツルギ〉：イトノコギリ刑事。つぶやきながら食べるのはやめたまえ！

〈イトノコ〉：自分、今年は水炊き鍋で“しらたき”ばかり食べてたッスからねー。

思わず叫んじまったッス！

〈ミクモ〉：叫んだんじゃなく、つぶやきですけどね！

〈ミツルギ〉：ソーメンではなかったが、彼の食生活はいつも危機的状況だな。

〈イトノコ〉：うう‥‥捜査で失敗するたびに、生活費がピンチになるッスからね‥‥。

〈ミクモ〉：でも、いま一番危機が迫っているのは、ミツルギさんのほうなんじゃ？

ＣＭで見ましたよ！“最大のピンチ”だって。

〈イトノコ〉：自分も聞いたッスよ‥‥。いったい、どんな失敗をしちゃったッスか！ 

〈ミツルギ〉：キミと一緒にしないでくれたまえ！

身に覚えはないが‥‥ピンチを恐れていても仕方がないだろう。

私は、自分の信じる道を行くだけだ。

〈ミクモ〉：さっすがミツルギさん！いざとなったらわたしも力を貸しますからね。大ドロボウとして！

〈イトノコ〉：もちろん自分もッス！ピンチな時の生活費のやりくりならお任せッス！ 

〈ミツルギ〉：‥‥せめて、刑事として力を貸してもらえないだろうか。

〈ミクモ〉：そういえば。ミツルギさんのお父さんって、どんな人なんですか？

〈ミツルギ〉：‥‥なぜ、いきなりそんな質問を？

〈ミクモ〉：さっき信楽さんに聞いたんですよ。ミツルギさんのお父さんは、すごく立派な人だったって！わたしもお父さんを尊敬してたから、ちょっと気になっちゃって。

〈ミツルギ〉：幼い頃の私にとっては、尊敬すべき相手であり‥‥目標でもあった。

〈ミクモ〉：あれ？いまは違うんですか？ 

〈ミツルギ〉：‥‥‥‥どうだろうな。一言で説明するのは難しい。この答えを知りたいのならば、明日まで待ってくれたまえ。

〈ミクモ〉：なるほど！逆転検事２に真実が隠されている‥‥と。ミツルギさんの真実、私が盗んじゃいますよ！

〈ミクモ〉：ノコちゃん！そっちの飾りは、もっと右よりでお願い！

〈イトノコ〉：こっちッスね！あ、飾りが落ちたッス！ 

〈ミツルギ〉：昼間から、人の執務室で何をしているのだ。

〈イトノコ〉：今日は非番ッスからね！明日の発売日に向けて、前夜祭の準備をしてるッスよ！ 

〈ミクモ〉：そろそろ、つぶやく時間もなくなって来ましたからね！

ミツルギさんは気にせず仕事をしててください！

〈ミツルギ〉：そう思うのなら、机の上にのぼるのはやめていただきたい。

‥‥もう少しで仕事が片付くから、それまで待っていたまえ。

〈ミクモ〉：え！ミツルギさんも手伝ってくれるんですか？

〈ミツルギ〉：私とて祝いたい気持ちはあるのだ。

〈イトノコ〉：助かるッス！

それじゃ時間までソファーに座って待ってるッスよ！

〈ミツルギ〉：‥‥‥‥‥‥廊下で遊んでいてくれないだろうか。

〈イトノコ〉：逆転検事２発売に向けて、乾杯ッス！ 

〈ミツルギ〉：フッ‥‥前夜祭というのも良いものだな。

〈ミクモ〉：えへへ。明日には、わたしたちのカツヤクをお見せできるんですね！ 

〈ミツルギ〉：うム。感慨深いモノがあるな。

〈ミクモ〉：わたしたちのつぶやきも、これで最後になるんですね‥‥ちょっと名残惜しいです。

〈ミツルギ〉：だが一週間のあいだ、このような機会をいただけて良かった。直接、感謝を伝えることが出来るのだからな。私たちのつぶやきを見ていた方々。‥‥あらためて礼を言わせていただこう。

〈イトノコ〉：まだまだ話したいことはあるッスけど、もう時間ッスからね！

〈ミクモ〉：でも、まだ前夜祭は始まったばかりですよ！なんと！このあと「逆転検事２」の開発スタッフに直接質問ができちゃうんです！ 

〈イトノコ〉：へえ！そんな企画があるッスか！

〈ミクモ〉：カプコンから盗んできた情報だから、確実ですよ！１８時ぐらいから始まるそうです！

〈ミツルギ〉：私としても聞きたいことはたくさんあるのだが‥‥そこはフォロワーの方々に任せるとしよう。それでは、私たちはこれで失礼する。

〈ミツルギ〉：開発スタッフに聞きたいことがあれば、どんどん追及してくれたまえ！

[nincompoopydoo]

BABY EMERGENCY

PAIRING: Jack Thompson x reader

WORD COUNT: 1853

SUMMARY: You, the Sousa’s neighbor, mistakenly arrive at their doorstep, thinking it was pie night rather than date night. Yet, the sight of a disheveled, troubled and somewhat handsome Jack Thompson convinced you to help out with baby Nancy.

A/N: Uh, I think I got carried away because this is almost 2k words oops. Also, changed the name because I like this one better. Anyway, enjoy read and Jack Thompson being cute in a house that’s not even theirs.

MASTERLIST

← PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Jack Thompson never expected to be met with a pair of wide eyes when he opened the front door, or to be met with the smell of apple pie, tucked nicely between your arms and under a piece of blue Gingham cloth. He blinked as you began to frown, face blossoming with confusion. “Darn it, was date night tonight? I should have called before-”

“Who are you?” Jack interrupted, confused by your sudden presence. You chuckled sheepishly, eyes lit up. “I’m sorry, how rude of me. I’m Y/N and I live next door. I just got off work from the bakery downtown and I thought we could have some pie,” you paused, eyes darting towards the front lawn. You note the missing car you completely missed when you were walking up to the front door. “But it seems I got the dates wrong.” You let your shoulders slump a little. The thought of spending the Friday night alone was certainly unpleasant. Yet, you flashed him a strained smile.

“Are you here, for the baby emergency?” he asked hesitantly, hands shoved into the pockets of his slacks. You frowned once more. “Baby emergency?” you blinked, shifting the pie in your arms that were beginning to feel sore by every passing moment. “It’s more like a pie emergency.” You laughed. It was a terrible joke if it was even meant to be one yet Jack found himself struggling to resist a smile. You had a contagious laugh. Shifted in your stance, you were ready to turn around, leave with embarrassment and later wallow yourself in self-pity when you heard the sound of a newborn’s cry—Nancy. Nancy Sousa was a fussy one; she mostly cried than laughed according to Peggy’s claim during one pie night with prominent dark circles under her tired eyes. Then, it clicked in your head; this must be Jack Thompson, the babysitter and colleague, that Peggy had told you about last night.

You caught the sight of him wincing, hand rubbing against his temple. Daniel often did that when Nancy had one of her temper tantrums. There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach—Guilt. Guilt, if you didn’t at least ask if everything was alright. Well, you were already here after all. You could either sit alone at your dining table with your apple pie or you could lend a hand to this very sorry and somewhat charming blonde man. You took a step forward, peeking into the house behind him. “Do you need help?” As soon as those words left your mouth, Jack heaved an immediate sigh of relief, looking at you like you’re his savior. “Yes, please.” 

~

You reminded Jack a lot of his mother, the way you moved around the kitchen as you rummaged through the cupboards in search of a knife. Your skirt brushing against his forearm every time you squeezed through the small space with the soft murmur of an apology and the flash of a small smile; he’d only just met you and yet, your presence gave him a sort of comfort. You reminded him of home.

“Aha!” You exclaimed and waved a pie knife in the air. Jack chuckled at your wide grin as he held a spoonful of the beef & ham to Nancy’s gaping mouth while you pried up the crust of your apple pie. Scooping a slice onto two plates, you glanced at Jack, hunched down in his chair as he carefully scraped out the remnants of the baby food while Nancy watched him eagerly. He was in his dress shirt, clearly he had come right after work. His sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tie loosened and his blonde hair slightly disheveled. He was very handsome, to say the least, but you’ve heard of his talent for making bad situations worse; though the past half an hour might be making up for that claim.

As you eyed him, he happened to turn his head and caught your stare with his direct blue gaze. You divert your eyes away in an instant, cheeks burning in embarrassment. You hear him clear his throat Nancy lets out a soft burb, followed by a trail of giggles. “Pie’s ready.“ you said hastily, nearing the dining table with a couple of dessert plates and forks on the table. Jack accepted the plate you handed him with brows raised in amusement at the sight of an inviting slice of sweet and savory. Your eyes perked up at a sudden thought that came into mind. “I know just the drink.” Yanking the refrigerator door opened, you pulled out the bottom drawer and met with the sight of an emerald towel laid by the corner of the drawer. Beneath it, you pulled out a couple of root beer bottles from the six-pack. 

Shuffling to the chair opposite Jack, you popped the bottles excitedly. He gave you bewildered look. “Trust me, it goes well with the pie.” You pushed an already opened bottle to him, taking a swig out of yours. Jack chuckled lightly, shaking his head. “I meant to ask if we are even allowed to drink these because I ain’t risking anything with Peggy.” He gestured to the bottles, giving you a look before reaching over to Nancy to wipe off the smudges of baby food around her mouth. Your heart clenches slightly at the endearing sight. “I’m sure it’s fine. Peggy and I are old pals. Plus, she owes me for stealing my hairpins.” You waved one hand dismissively, already digging into the pie. Jack’s gaze flickered to you. “Old pals?” he questioned and you beamed. “Yeah, I was a nurse for the 107th during the war. That’s how I met Peggy. It was only three years after the war when I happened to move next door and now we’re best friends and their glorified piemaker,“ you explained as Jack laughed at your claim and you decided that you liked it when he laughed. It’s incredible how you were already enticed by a man you’ve only met in the past hour. “You are a glorified piemaker alright because this is really good stuff,” Jack said with amusement, shoving another bite in his mouth. He took a sip of the root beer. “And you’re right. Root beer surprisingly goes really well with apple pie. Who would’ve thought?” You hummed in response, glancing at Nancy who had become quiet for the past couple of minutes. It seems she had fallen asleep while sat in the baby high chair. The two of you shared a knowing look.

With the soft clank of your spoons against the dessert plates, Jack gently reached over to the girl and carefully held her against his chest as the three of you made your way to the nursery. 

~

There’s that feeling of endearment and the occasional ache in your heart whenever you catch sight of Jack and Nancy together and it’s the words of your mother and your aunties that kept ringing in your head throughout the evening. When are you going to settle down? That particular question was bound to be brought up and nearly impossible to escape during the annual Christmas dinner and every year you turn up without a date. If you were to be honest, you always had a deep yearning for at least love—if not marriage. Yet, being the independent woman you were, living alone and working at the bakery downtown six days a week, you have never put much thought into it. Well, until now at least. Except, it’s the daydream of being all domestic with the man right in front of you who’s busy tucking your neighbor’s daughter to bed.

You knew you were damned from then on.

Switching off the lights, as Jack brushed past you as you quietly pulled the door close, leaving it ajar. You turned around to see that he was already seated at the table, spoon in hand as he gazed at his unfinished slice of pie. There’s a part of him that believed that the pie tasted so good partly because of the person who made it.

“What about you?” you blurted out, pausing as you made your way to the table, seated across him once more. “The war. Were you . . .” you trailed off, instantly regretting your initial question. You blamed it on the exhaustion from your shift and frankly, you had a knack for saying things without thinking things through. You noticed how his face changed as soon as you mentioned the war yet before you could apologize, Jack answered. “I was in the navy . . . The 25th.” you nod thoughtfully, sensing the growing tension in the air. You desperately needed to divert the topic somewhere else. “That’s funny, I met someone who used to be in the 25th and for the life of me I can never remember his name. I don’t think he even told me,” you said, recalling the face of a young blonde man you briefly met on VJ Day.

That was an understatement, the man kissed you for heaven’s sake.

It was when you gazed at Jack, it hit you like a ton of bricks as you noticed the familiarity of the blue in his eyes. With wide eyes, you gawked at the man in shock and Jack must have realized it too. 

You were the nurse with the pretty smile he had kissed on VJ Day.

“Oh, Jesus,” he muttered and blinked at you, trying to process the whole situation while you gaped at him. “You-you kissed me on VJ Day,” you exclaimed, almost too excitedly and before you knew it, the two began to crack up, as quietly as you could. 

It is a small world after all.

Just then, the front door swung open, the two of you immediately stood up and were met with the sight of a very red and sweating Edwin Jarvis who came rushing into the kitchen. “Mr. Thompson, I apologize for my lateness but I-” the man halted in his step as soon as he spotted the two of you, watching him with bewildered faces. “Oh, Miss Y/N. You’re here,” he stated between huffs, trying to catch his breath. “Jarvis, what are you doing here?” you asked as the two of you watched him collapse onto an empty chair by the dining table. “Well, it started out as a baby emergency and I tried to ring you up but you weren’t answering. So, I came here as fast as I could but traffic was absolutely atrocious!” He explained as you went to fill a glass of water. “However, I suspect you already settled the issue, Mr. Thompson.” Jack smiled at Jarvis, giving him a pat on the shoulder. “Thank you, Jarvis. I appreciate it.” 

You returned with a glass of water, a spoon and plate. “Pie?” you gestured to the apple pie, sitting idly at the center of the table. His eyes lit up. “Oh, that would be delightful. Thank you.”

You caught Jack’s gaze as you began to sit, the two of you shared a smile. This was certainly not what you expected your Friday night to turn out.

[scripts4dreamers]

When you know

AN: There’s nothing like getting drunk and singing karaoke to bring two people together. 

Characters: Spencer Reid, Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, Penelope Garcia

Pairings: Spencer Reid x reader

Spoilers: None

Warnings: Mentions of crime and violence, alcohol

Prompt: “Hey ! Can you do a spencer imagine about him bringing his crush to the bar with the team and they have a drunk karaoke night and he confesses his feelings for her ? 🥺”

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

By the time the phone finally rang, it was nearly 8pm and you’d drifted off into a restless sleep on the couch in your living room. The sound woke you up and you groaned at your empty apartment, fumbling around until you felt the cool metal against your skin.

“Mmhmm?” You hummed, still half asleep.

“Y/N?” Spencer said.

Your heart jumped at the sound of your friend’s voice. You’d been waiting for him to call all day but, when you glanced at the clock and saw how late it was, you decided that you couldn’t let him know that.

“Go away.”

Even through the phone you could hear Spencer shift his weight from one foot to the other, “Y/N/N I’m sorry-“

“No, stop it, I’m still mad at you,” you interrupted without any real malice, “you promised me dinner, Spencer Reid. It’s 8pm.”

“I had a case,” he laughed, “what did you expect me to do? Rush home before we were done?”

“No, that would be unreasonable,” you answered, rolling onto your back, “I expected you to do your job faster so that I wouldn’t have to spend hours wasting away in my apartment.”

“Wasting away?”

“Wasting away!” You repeated, “you should see me, Spence, I’m positively faint from hunger.”

He chuckled through the phone and you could hear the exhaustion in his voice slipping away. The thought made you smile. If there was anything you prided yourself on, it was your ability to make Spencer Reid smile. He may have been a genius, but you were funny so, if you think about it, who was the real winner?

“I’m serious!” You insisted, “I should take you to court, mister. I’ll have you know it’s illegal to keep a girl waiting like this on a Friday night.”

“I think your definition of illegal could probably use some brushing up,” Spencer teased, “and by the way? It’s doctor.”

“Oooooh I’m sorry,” you smiled, “Doctor.”

Spencer laughed again, and you felt a familiar tingle rush through your stomach. You’d known Spencer for quite some time now but, no matter how often you talked, there was something about his voice that always made you weak at the knees.

You’d met at a coffee shop near your house when he’d tripped over your bag and nearly turned your crisp white work shirt into a soggy, caffeinated mess. As it happened, the coffee had narrowly missed you, and you’d insisted on buying him a new one, forcing him to sit down and relax. You’d ended up talking for nearly an hour and, when you arrived the next day, Spencer was already there, with your coffee order in hand. After that, well, you’d been inseparable.

Spencer hummed, “How about I make it up to you? My friends and I are going out tonight, do you wanna come?”

You sat up, “Friends? What friends? Your crime fighting pals?”

You could practically hear him roll his eyes fondly, “You know we’re not technically crime fighters, we’re closer to detectives in the classic sense.”

“Okay, fine, your detective buddies. Either way I’m so there. Where should I meet you?” You replied.

As Spencer listed off the address you rushed to your room, searching the closet for something suitable to wear. You’d never met Spencer’s friends before and you knew you wanted to make a good impression.

—————————

When Spencer hung up, he was somewhere between nervous and excited. It had been too long since he’d seen you face-to-face and the idea of you being right there in front of him in less than twenty minutes was nearly intoxicating.

“She’s coming?” Morgan asked.

“He looks way too happy for her to have said no,” Prentiss smiled.

“Ooooo we get to meet her?” Garcia asked, clapping her hands with excitement.

“It’s about time,” Morgan agreed.

Spencer blushed, “You guys promised you’d be nice.”

“What? I’m nice!” Prentiss argued.

“Yeah, Reid, you've got nothing to worry about. We’ll all be on our best behavior around Lover Girl, I promise,” Morgan said, crossing his heart.

“Derek,” Garcia chided, slapping his arm softly, “her name is, Y/N and she’s about to become my new best friend.”

Spencer smiled as Morgan and Prentiss jumped in, each arguing as to why you were more likely to be their best friend. It comforted his nerves, knowing how much his friends already cared about you. It made sense, after all they’d been listening to him talk about you for months now. In fact, it was Garcia’s idea for him to go back to that coffee shop in the first place. He’d never been more nervous than he was that day, holding a cup of coffee in one hand and hoping you didn’t think he was an absolute creep for getting the order right.

Luckily, you hadn’t, and that had been the start of the most agonizing few months of his life. They were incredible, of course, because you were incredible, but he’d also never felt more out of his depth. He’d had crushes before but with you things felt different, more urgent somehow, like the clock was ticking his time with you away. Maybe it was because he knew he wasn’t right for you, that he worked too much and kept you waiting and never had enough time, and he was just waiting for you to get fed up with waiting on him. Maybe it was because you were so wonderful that it didn’t make sense for someone to not be crazy about you, someone who could give you everything you deserved, someone who definitely wasn’t Spencer. Either way, every moment he had with you was precious, which is why he’d waited so long to introduce you to the BAU. He may have been an adult but, in his heart, Spencer Reid was still an only child and he’d never been good at sharing.

His phone beeped.

Hey! I’m outside...come say hi?

“Shhh!” Spencer said, his heart jumping into his throat as he waved his arms around to silence his friends, “everyone shut up! She’s here.”

Garcia squealed, “Really?”

“Be cool, babygirl,” Morgan smiled, “what are you waiting for, Lover Boy? Go get her!”

Spencer fought down a smile, “Okay, let’s go over the rules: no talking about work, no making her feel weird, no mentioning me talking about her, no inviting her to join the FBI for no reason and no embarrassing stories. Got it?”

“You’ve got it,” Prentiss promised, “like Morgan said, best behavior.”

Garcia looked like she was about to explode with excitement, but she nodded anyway and Morgan wrapped an arm around her shoulder comfortingly, giving Spencer a wink as he did.

“Deep breaths, kid,” he said softly, “it’s gonna be fine.”

Spencer nodded and pushed himself up out of the booth, shooting his friends a double thumbs up as he half walked, half jogged his way to the front of the bar.

When he saw you he froze for a second, his heart literally stuttering in his chest as he took you in. You were beautiful, the small part of his brain that was still functioning supplied, so beautiful that it actually hurt to look at you. He thought he’d be used to the way you made him feel by now but, whether it was the distance or some other magic unique to you, every single time still hit him like a ton of bricks and he was suddenly twelve years old again.

Just then you spotted him, and your face lit up with happiness, shocking Spencer back into action. You rushed over and pulled him close, letting him bury his face in your hair, breathe in your soft, fruity smell and relish in the sudden rush of comfort he felt being in your arms again.

“Spencer!” You cheered as you broke apart, holding onto his forearms and looking him up and down, “Oh my goodness, look at you! You look so nice.”

“Look at me? Look at you!” He responded, trying not to let on how hard he’d tried putting his outfit together, “Not bad for someone on the very brink of starvation.”

“Ah, you flatter me,” you joked, letting him go and adjusting your purse strap.

Spencer noticed the way you were shifting on your feet and fiddling with the hem of your jacket and he felt his heart pinch.

“Hey,” he said, “are you nervous?”

You laughed breathlessly, “That obvious, huh?” You smiled and shrugged, “I don’t know, I just want to make a good impression. This is your family, I want them to like me.”

Spencer bumped your shoulder with his, a rush of happiness bubbling up in his chest at the way you said family. He’d never told you that about the BAU, you’d just known. Just like you’d known a million little things about him that he’d never thought anyone would ever know. Just like you’d known on that first day that he needed someone to talk to. You just knew, and wasn’t that it’s own sort of genius?

“They’re gonna love you,” he assured, injecting sincerity into every word, “trust me.”

You nodded and took a deep breath in, steeling yourself against your nerves and forcing on a smile, “okay. I’m ready.”

And with that, Spencer walked you in. As soon as you stepped into the bar he felt your muscles tense. It was a small bar, cosy and warm, with a stage and a microphone set up for karaoke.

“It’s a karaoke bar?” You hissed, “You didn’t tell me it was a karaoke bar!”

“I didn’t think it was relevant,” Spencer shrugged, “here we are.”

“Y/N!” Garcia greeted, jumping up, “Hi! I mean, hello! I’m Garci-Penelope! I’m Penelope!”

Spencer smiled as he felt your muscles relax and Garcia pulled you into a hug. You laughed, but responded just as enthusiastically.

“Hi! I-uh-I guess you all know my name then,” you grinned.

“Oh shoot,” Garcia said, “sorry, I broke a rule.”

Spencer shot her a panicked look, flushing bright red as you raised your eyebrows at him.

“Don’t mind Garcia,” Prentiss cut in, rescuing Spencer from having to explain, “we're all just really glad to meet you. I’m Emily.”

She reached out to shake your hand and, with that, you took a seat next to Spencer and normal conversation resumed. Morgan and Garcia launched back into their banter while Emily asked questions about your job and when you’d moved to the city. It was easy and normal and...so, so strange.

Spencer was almost painfully aware of how close you were; your leg brushing his under the table, your shoulder nudging his with every little movement you made. He tried to stay focused on what was going on at the table, tried to follow the conversation and add value, but he couldn’t keep the stories straight. Time didn’t make sense anymore. Spencer was completely lost in the unbelievable happiness of having all the people he cared about in one place.

At some point during the night, an immeasurable amount of time later, Morgan bought drinks. That was a mistake. It was a mistake because now you were tipsy and your head was on his shoulder and Spencer thought his head might actually explode with the effort of not blurting out how much he liked you right then and there. You were laughing at something Emily had said, just chuckling like it was the most natural thing in the world and Spencer felt his heart literally swell.

“We should sing!” Garcia said suddenly.

You gasped, slapping Spencer’s thigh with excitement, your whole face lighting up like it was christmas.

“Yes! Yes yes yes! We should sing!” You agreed, “Don’t you think, Spence?? Don’t you think we should sing?”

Spencer laughed and shook his head, “No! No, I don’t sing. Trust me, you don’t want to hear that.”

“Pleeeeaaaaase?” You whined, turning to face him fully and fluttering your eyelashes, “please, Spence?”

Damn those eyes, he thought to himself, feeling his skin flush under the weight of your stare. Maybe this would be easier if he was drunk. He couldn’t say no to you at the best of times but, when you’re pouting at him like that, with full puppy dog eyes? Oh yeah, he was beyond putty in your hands. Spencer could practically taste Morgan’s smug look.

He rolled his eyes fondly, giving in to the inevitable, “What would we even sing?”

Somehow, your smile grew infinitely bigger and Spencer’s heart did that thing where it jumped into his throat and stuttered at the same time.

“Thank you! You’re the best!” You turned to Garcia, “Well? You coming, ‘Nel?”

“You betcha!” Garcia smiled, pulling you up and towards the stage.

At the last second you reached out and grabbed Spencer’s hand, laughing your head off as you went. His skin felt like it was on fire where you touched him, little shocks of electricity running through every inch of skin that touched yours. It was a little ridiculous really, how quickly Spencer lost his head when you touched him. All that genius, all those years of schooling sharpening his mind into a finely crafted machine and all he could think about was the feeling of skin on skin, and the smell of your hair.

The stage was sticky. The microphone was pitchy and jarring. Everything was way too much, and completely dull at the same time because all he could see was you. You and Garcia were hunched over a screen, laughing and talking as you picked a song. The music started and you grabbed the microphone, smiling over at him like it was nothing. Spencer knew he should be nervous, he should be hating every second of being up on stage in front of a group of strangers but, for some reason, he wasn’t. He was happy and calm and like ten other adjectives that almost never described him in the hours after a case, but that seemed to follow you around like a shadow.

You opened your mouth, too drunk to be properly singing, but still sober enough to be almost on key, “Here’s the thing, We started off friends-”

Garcia joined in, “It was cool but it was all prete-end, yeah yeah,”

“Since you been gone!”

You waved him over and Spencer followed, letting you point out the screen where the words appeared line by line. To be in front of the mic, Spencer had to lean in towards you and woah that’s close. He could count every single eyelash and see individual flakes of glitter against your skin, but he pushed the image down, tucking it away into the back of his mind somewhere for him to take out again when he was alone. All this happened in a split second, just long enough for Spencer to remember where he was and snap back into the present.

“You dedicated, you took the time,” The three of you sang together, trying to stifle laughter when Garcia tried to harmonize, “It wasn’t long before I called you mi-ine, yeah yeah, Since you been gone!”

You closed your eyes, throwing your head back as you sang and drawing Spencer in even closer.

“And all you’d ever hear me say Is how I picture me with you! That’s all you’d ever hear me say!”

You opened your eyes, turning to Garcia as the music swelled.

“But since you been gone! I can breathe for the fiiiiiirst tiiiiiiime, I’m so moving on, YEAH YEAH” you screamed together, even Spencer giving into the music for a moment, “Thanks to you! Now I get! I get what I waaaaaaaant! Since you been gone!”

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation and, when he did, you met his eye and followed suit, doubling over and clutching your stomach as you laughed together, Spencer wrapped an arm around your waist and helped you up so that you could support Garcia as her back up singers. It was silly and goofy and fun, and Spencer didn’t really want it to end because it meant he could be close to you. It meant he had a reason to be close to you that wasn’t just his own selfishness and it felt like you wanted to be close to him too.

As the song came to an end and Garcia warbled out a final, “since you been gone”, Spencer found himself just looking at you, something thrumming just below the surface in his chest. His arm was still around your waist, just a friend supporting another friend, that’s all, totally innocent. Except that it wasn’t because he was looking at you like you were salvation and he could feel it happening, he just didn’t care. Because it was obvious, wasn’t it? It was obvious that he loved you. He’d maybe always loved you, ever since that day at the coffee shop and maybe that was okay. Maybe it was okay that he loved you even though he didn’t deserve you because, well, you knew him. You knew Spencer in a way that only one or two people in his entire life had ever known him and you still seemed to like him, you still looked at him like he was something special and precious.

Garcia pulled you both off the stage, bowing to the smattering of applause from the crowd and the whoops and hollers from the table where his friends were sitting. Instinctively, Spencer tugged you back, shooting Garcia an apologetic look, which she accepted with a nod and a subtle smile. His heart was in his throat but, when you turned and looked back at him, tilting your head in confusion, he felt sure.

“Hey-uh-can we-” he paused, smiling sheepishly as he felt himself flush, “can we talk, quickly?”

You frowned, concerned, but nodded and let him pull you aside, and Spencer loved you so much for it that he wanted to scream. Looking around, he managed to spy a somewhat empty corner of the bar, far enough away from the stage that you’d be able to talk without having to raise your voice. It wasn’t perfect, if he’d known-well-if he’d known how tonight was going to go he would have planned something more romantic, but he didn’t and the idea of knowing how he felt and not telling you about it made him feel sick. Because it all made sense now, the sense of urgency, the way his crush on you had never felt like a crush, the way one conversation with you felt just like three hours of uninterrupted reading. It all made sense and he needed you to know, right now, before he got called away on another case and you were apart for God knows how long. He needed you to know.

“Spence?” You asked as soon as you were in the corner, “What’s going on, did I do something wrong?”

“What? No! No-Y/N-you’re-” he started, forcing himself out of his head and back into the moment, “you’ve been incredible. You are incredible, which is sort of what I wanted us to talk about-or-no not exactly?” he rambled, his thoughts and feelings tripping and stumbling over one another in an attempt to find just the right combination of words for the way he was feeling, “I mean it is-you are-but I realised that you’ve always-ugh, sorry-”

“Hey,” you chuckled gently, taking one of his hands in both of yours, “it’s okay, just slow down. We’re not all super geniuses, you know?”

Spencer paused, taking a deep breath and letting his thoughts catch up with one another. God, you really were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, some part of him noted, and your smile….When you smiled at him like you were right then, like he was the only person in the room, like there was nowhere else you’d rather be than right there in that dingy karaoke bar, all his fears just kind of...went away. He could still feel them, if he really tried, but they were distant, locked up in another room, behind a metal door with a padlock on it. They were so far away and you were so close and wasn’t that more important?

“I’m in love with you,” he heard himself say, “I think I’ve been in love with you for a long time, and I know that-I know that you don’t owe me anything, and I’m not trying to pressure you, or force you to do anything, I just thought you should know because-because it’s the truth, and I think you deserve the truth.” he paused, wishing that he could gauge some sort of reaction besides the slight widening of your eyes, “And the truth is that I’m in love with you, Y/N, and-”

Thankfully, you kissed him before he had to figure out how to finish that sentence. He barely had time to notice you leaning in before your lips were on his, soft and sure, like you were answering a question, or saying a prayer. Everything else faded away, nothing was as important as you and, without even thinking, Spencer kissed you back, wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you closer. Your fingers threaded through his hair and he sighed against your lips, some small part of his brain wondering if kissing was supposed to feel this good. Had it ever felt like this before? Had he ever wanted like this before? No, not until you. Because you were different, you’d always been different and, if the way you whispered his name against his mouth when he nipped at your bottom lip was anything to go by, you’d always been his, and he just hadn’t known it.

He could have stayed like that forever, wrapped up in your arms with the burnt sugar taste of your lips on his tongue, but eventually you had to break apart, even if it was only to breathe. Thankfully, you stayed close, resting your forehead against Spencer’s as you basked in the moment.

“I-love you too,” you chuckled breathlessly, “in case that much wasn’t blatantly obvious.”

“You know, I’d like to say I had a hunch,” he responded, “but I really didn’t.”

You rolled your eyes fondly, leaning forward to press another, much gentler kiss to his lips, “What, you thought I dressed like this for Morgan?”

There was something sinful about being able to let his eyes trace your body like this so openly, something private and intimate that made Spencer want to blush.

“I-uh-I tried very hard not to think about who you dressed like that for, actually,” he admitted, and then quickly continued, “not that you dress a specific way for anybody, or that there’s anything wrong if you do it’s just-you know-women can dress how they like, and there’s nothing intrinsically identifiable in the way a woman dresses that allows a person to truly know what she wants or doesn’t want. Not that you want anything, I just-”

You cut him off with another kiss and Spencer melted into it gratefully. He could feel you smiling into the kiss and, for once, he was grateful for his rambling. For once, Spencer Reid couldn’t think of a single thing he’d change about himself, because you loved him and that was too good a thing for him to want to mess with.

taglist: @ourfavoritesergeantbarnes​

[miraculousmarifan]

Day 15: Catpurrchino

Happy @felinettenovember! I’m going a little out of order, considering how late I am anyway!

750 words of absolute fluff and Felix being embarrassed. Marinette works at a coffee shop

Felix stopped in his tracks outside the small coffee shop that Claude had led him to. He made it to the door before noticing that Felix wasn't following anymore.

"Seriously Felix! Let's just go in and try it!"

Felix tried to stand firm as Claude pulled his arm. "Don't be such a stick in the mud! Besides, Allegra is already inside!"

Felix heaved a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, before reluctantly agreeing. Claude let out a joyous shout and bounded back to the door.

The barista started to say the standard greeting when the two entered, only to see Felix behind Claude and stop. "Felix, you brought a friend this time! Did you want the usual?"

Felix cleared his throat before shaking his head no and responding, "I'm going to have some black tea, please. Small."

"Oh, mixing it up! We're just training a new guy so it would've been nice to have him practice making the design." The brunette's tone was friendly enough, though she looked slightly mischievous to Felix as he only replied with a hum.

Claude had watched this exchange with wide eyes and a slowly returning smile. Turning to the barista, he leaned on the counter and asked "So what is his usual?"

"He gets a large cappuccino and let's the person making the drink choose the design topping it. We each have our favorite to put." She leaned on the counter near him, smiling conspiratorially, "My favorite is a snowflake."

Felix flushed while Claude turned to look at him with a wide grin at the news. He knew this wasn't going to be easy to live down.

"Buddy, pal, my man! How did I not know you enjoyed a good cappuccino?" Turning to the girl at the counter, he declared, "I'll have Felix’s usual then!"

"One small black tea and a large custom design cappuccino. What pattern would you like?"

"Surprise me." Claude handed her some money for both drinks, despite Felix’s protest.

"Perfect! It'll be out shortly!" The girl smiled as the transaction ended, then hurried to the back room.

Felix spotted Allegra watching curiously and quickly walked over to sit next to her. Claude followed with tangible curiosity, before plopping down in the seat across from the girl.

"Allegra, did you know that Felix is a regular here?" Claude was clearly enjoying this too much, in Felix’s opinion. 

"Am I not allowed to go to a coffee shop in my spare time?" He jumped in before the two could continue. Allegra looked suspiciously at the blond.

"You are, but why are the two of you being so weird about it? Claude I'd expect to be strange about learning something new but you usually aren't so uncomfortable with it."

Felix couldn't help but curse that she could read him so well.

"Did you know that his usual order is a cappuccino? The man who proclaims he only drinks tea or black coffee!" Claude leaned over the table towards them like this had been a killing blow on the normalcy of Felix liking a coffee shop.

Allegra turned to watch Felix with raised eyebrows as she took a sip from her cup.

"Preferences change." He shrugged at her nonchalantly. Claude stared like he had two heads and silence fell over the group.

"Here's your coffee Felix! It's nice that you brought friends this time! I wasn't expecting to see you until Friday." A girl with black hair set down a cappuccino in front of Felix, then the black tea in front of Claude.

"Thank you Marinette. It's good to see you too," Felix responded stiffly, a blush rushing into his face.

"What did I get?" Claude asked as he started to switch their cups. The girl jumped at his voice, looking between the boys and blushing.

"Oh! I didn't realize that you hadn't gotten your usual when Grace wrote your name by the order… I'll be sure to ask next time! I've got to go back now. Other orders and all. See you next time!" Marinette smiled reassuringly, walking away from the group with a wave.

"Well she was nice but she didn't answer my question…" Claude broke the silence, eyes redirected towards his cappuccino.

"It's a cat," Felix quietly replied. "She always makes me a catpurrchino…"

Allegra snorted and Claude joined in laughing at the silly pun, while Felix let a smile creep onto his face. Both friends let the blush still in his cheeks slide, knowing he'd tell them more about it when he was ready.

[mythologymondays]

It’s that time again, the time where we all gleefully sit down on the nearest mound and regale ourselves with totally normal Welsh tales of magical women and horses and enchanted bags, because that’s just how the Mabinogion is. Fun sources and FACTS beneath the cut, as always.

Press J on your keyboard if you hate stories about Medieval etiquette, liminality, and magic mounds.

The Prince and the Horse Girl: a temporally disconnected romance for the ages

So, the last we heard of Pwyll, he had successfully cockblocked himself into becoming best friends with Arawn, the Lord of the Underworld, which sounds like a pretty average Friday night in Cardiff, let me tell you. Anyway, Pwyll at this point is just kind of riding high on the fame that being best pals with Arawn brings, and he’s showing his friendship bracelet to everyone he meets and saying stuff like “yeah, it’s great to have the Lord of the Underworld Arawn-ed whenever I need him,” and everyone just sort of rolls their eyes good-naturedly and thinks about death.

One day, Pwyll is at his court at Arbeth, which is one of his most important courts. There’s a huge feast in front of him and all of his courtly pals are there, just chewing the fat. Pwyll tears off the leg of another whole roast pig, probably his eighth of the session, and he’s about to bite into it when he realises that everyone sat around the table is staring at him, so he puts down the pig leg really gingerly and says, “do I have hog spleen around my mouth or something?” and one of his courtly crew, who doesn’t get a name in the original text and so will henceforth be known as Brad, says, “no, my lord, but you do have practically an entire herd of pigs in your stomach, so maybe it’s time for a walk?”

Pwyll blinks at him and he’s like, “I don’t really see why I would want to go for a walk in the yucky outside when I could be sitting here and savouring delicious morsels of tenderly roasted flesh,” and Brad shrugs and says, “well, I read an article about nutrition in this scientific journal last week, and apparently it’s not actually that good for you to just eat constantly and never go outside ever,” and Pwyll is like, “no, but it’s super fun,” and Brad sighs and he’s like, “look, I wasn’t going to tell you this, just in case you got too excited, but there’s actually a mound outside,” and then Pwyll’s eyes go as wide as dinner plates and he cries, “a mound? Seriously? You’re not just fucking with me to get me to go outside?” and Brad is like, “no, there’s seriously a genuine, 100% organic mound outside, and it’s only a short walk away,” and so Pwyll pushes his chair out from under the table and he’s all, “lead the way, pal, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me sooner that there was a fucking rad mound outside, you know how much I love mounds.”

So, they all traipse outside on horseback, and lo and behold, Brad wasn’t lying. There really is an absolutely incredible mound outside, all earthy and hilly, and… look. I’ll level with you. It’s hard to get excited about a mound, but Pwyll manages it. I have no idea how. God knows I’ve tried. But anyway, he leads his merry band of lads up to the top of the mound, and they’re all about to sit down when Brad puts out a hand and stops Pwyll from doing so. Pwyll is like, “dude, stop crushing my vibe, I’m about to become sedentary on this sediment,” and Brad just shakes his head and he’s like, “bro, I need to tell you something about the mound, because I may have undersold it.”

Pwyll is obviously in complete disbelief at this point, just like, “mate, there’s no way you undersold it. It can’t get any cooler than this. It just can’t. Have you seen it?” and Brad is like, “yes, it’s a really interesting geological formation, and the topography also makes it look a bit like a butt, which is obviously super rad, but I didn’t tell you that it’s also a magic mound, because if a nobleman sits on it, one of two things will happen: either he’ll see something absolutely fantastic, like the original The Mummy film starring Brendan Fraser or a cool dog, or he’ll get maimed and mortally wounded. It’s 50/50, to be honest with you.” 

Pwyll just blinks at him, and he’s like, “dude, those are two very different things, but you know, I really can’t pass up the opportunity to see a cool dog,” and Brad says, “I need you to know that the dog was just a random example, I make no canine promises here, I can’t stress that enough,” and Pwyll just shrugs and scoffs, “whatever, dude. Anyway, if I do get totally maimed, I’ve got my posse here, and you’ll do first aid on me, won’t you?” and Brad just sort of nods nervously, because they haven’t even invented antiseptic in Medieval Wales and all their bandages are just, like, old socks drenched in ale, and they don’t have St John Ambulance to teach them all first aid because there isn’t even a J in the Welsh alphabet, and then Pwyll grits his teeth and sits down.

Almost immediately, this brilliant white horse just zooms past them, and Pwyll is like, “oh, that’s fucking sick, my dudes! I thought a dog would be cool, but a horse? Are you kidding me? It doesn’t get much better than this! Equestrian displays are my jam!” and then Brad rolls his eyes and he’s like, “my lord, did you not notice that there was a phenomenally sexy and almost certainly magic lady in gold riding that horse?” and Pwyll is like, “honestly, no, I was kind of distracted by the fetlocks, but now you come to mention it, she’s pretty attractive, I guess. Hey, do you think I could catch up with her and ask her where she got her cool horse?” 

So he gets back on his horse and he tries to catch up with the lady, but even though Pwyll’s horse was sold to him as being the fastest ride on four legs, he can’t even come close to her. He walks back to his lads, his metaphorical tail between his actual legs, and he’s like, “dudes, we’re going to formulate a plan tonight,” and then a random guy in the posse is like, “oh cool, I brought Sharpies,” and they go back to Arbeth Court and spend literally all night just drawing diagrams and equations on a tapestry of England, because that’s probably the best use for it.

The next day, they put their plan in action. Pwyll gets his youngest, fittest lad, plops him on his biggest, muscliest horse, the one that’s like an equine version of that man in Game of Thrones who keeps breaking weightlifting records and is almost definitely earmarked to play Atlas in some big budget Greek myth film, and sends him after the lady. But still, no matter how fast they ride, she’s always one step ahead of them. At one point, they almost catch up with her, but when Pwyll reaches out to stroke her silky blonde hair in a totally normal and cool way, she pulls forward again and he just fucking eats dust. It’s humiliating. 

And this goes on for three days, because princes don’t have, like, hobbies in Medieval Wales, or apparently any princely duties that would make galavanting after a magic horse woman for half a week kind of inconvenient for the general populace, and gradually, Pwyll’s men all bow out one by one, probably because they’ve all developed an absolutely stonking case of piles from being on horseback for three days solid, and then Pwyll is alone in his romantic and also literal pursuit. 

Exhausted, starving and probably desperate for the loo at this point, Pwyll throws his head back and howls, “what the fuck is going on on this day? I’ve tried everything! I’m absolutely stumped. I don’t know what to do about this. I’ve considered it from every possible angle. I chased her, and that didn’t work. I got my wingman to chase her, and that didn’t work. Those are my only two options in the entire world. I just don’t know what else I can do. It’s completely fucking futile, I wish I’d just seen a dog instead,” and then a flash of inspiration comes to him, and he just calls out to the woman, “erm, could you maybe just, like, stop?” and, like a miracle, she does.

When he catches up to her, she glares at him, and says, “I’ve literally been waiting three whole days for you to just ask me to stop, why did it take you so long?” and Pwyll is like, “I sort of thought that it was implied, to be honest with you, what with all the chasing and me crying loudly about my unending solitude and the futility of love,” and she shrugs and says, “well, if we’re to be marred, we really have to work on our communication,” and Pwyll is like, “wait, what, who said anything about marriage?” and she just rolls her eyes, like, “look, I’m a sexy Medieval maiden and you’re a prince with some land and gendered expectations, so of course we’re going to get married,” and he’s like, “well, if we marry, that means I get to ride your horse whenever I want, right?” and she nods, like, “yes, that’s definitely the primary appeal of marriage.” 

But just as he’s about to get down on one knee, she looks at him again, and says, “I should just tell you something super quick, in the name of true love and Medieval marriage etiquette,” and he’s like, “what, your name?” and she says, “no, not that, although it’s Rhiannon, but mostly I’m thinking of the fact that you actually have to wait a whole year to propose to me, because I’m almost engaged to someone else, who I hate, and I need to sort that all out first.” 

Pwyll frowns and says, “hang on, is this going to be another one of those weird magic things where I have to wait a whole year and then conveniently murder someone in a previously determined location?” and she’s like, “what the fuck, no, there’s not going to be any murder at all, just a lavish engagement feast and some nuptials and probably some awkward standing around with the in-laws to-be,” and he’s like, “so why do we have to wait a year?” and she just waves her arms around and says, “temporally disconnected Otherworld shit, my love, I don’t make the rules. Just come to the court of Hyfaidd Hen in exactly a year, and we’ll do the whole ball and chain thing. It’ll be great.” 

So he agrees, because of course he does, and the next thing he knows, it’s a year later, and he goes to Hyfaidd Hen and Rhiannon’s there in this beautiful McQueen wedding dress, looking all Kate Middleton but without the colonial royal associations, and there’s an absolutely exquisite feast laid out, with a whole array of delicious Medieval food, like unseasoned meat pies and room-temperature ale that looks like piss, and Pwyll just thinks to himself how cool it all is, but he also secretly harbours a lingering regret for the previous year, where he was forced after a blunder of etiquette to kill a random man in a duel, and although he feels bad about it, a part of him longs for the decadent adventures of his bachelorhood, when murder was more than just a six letter word. 

They’re all just kind of milling about on the dancefloor, listening to the bards spit some absolute club classics like Y Gododdin by Aneurin, which really gets the toes tapping, when this random dude with a chiseled jawline and a playful glint in his eye comes up to Pwyll and extends his hand for Pwyll to shake. Pwyll, who is completely head over heels for manners and etiquette, shakes the man’s hand, and says, “hello, new friend! What can I do for you?” and Rhiannon elbows him in the side, and hisses, “be careful, fiancé dearest, don’t let him tangle you up in a web of etiquette from which there is no escape,” and Pwyll waves her off, saying, “my sweet darling, I am a prince of Wales; manners are my middle name,” and he turns back to the man. 

The man grins at him, and he says, “I’ve come to ask a favour of you, Pwyll, prince of Wales,” and Pwyll, still enamoured by this man’s manners, is struck by an overwhelming desire to just do whatever this perfectly polite man wants, so he spreads his arms wide in a benevolent gesture, conveniently using it as an excuse to set down his glass of lukewarm piss ale on a nearby shelf, and says, “literally anything you want, my friend, I’ll give you!” and then the stranger’s grin turns into a smirk and he says, “by your word?” and Pwyll is like, “fuck yeah, man, by all of my words, as God and all these noble guests are my witness!” and the stranger is like, “sick bro, I want to marry Rhiannon, and I also want your wedding feast.” 

And Pwyll has no idea what to say to that, because he just promised this man anything he wanted, so he decides that maybe silence is his best bet here, and the man grins at him, and stalks off, knowing that there’s literally nothing that Pwyll can do now except reconsider all of his life choices up to this point.

When the man has left, Rhiannon groans, “you phenomenal dick, that man was Gwawl and he’s the complete bag of dicks that my parents tried to marry me off to, and you just got me affianced to him!” and Pwyll just grits his teeth and hisses, “well, dear, you might have told me that before I told him I’d do whatever he wanted,” and Rhiannon sighs and says, “you’re right, but look, we can work through this. Here’s the plan. Firstly, we’ll tell him that he can’t have the feast, because it’s not yours to give, but mine, and we’ll prepare him an equal feast instead. Then, we’ll tell him that he can marry me a year from today, but here’s the thing - on the day of the wedding, you’ll secretly turn up in disguise with a very tiny magic bag and you’ll ask him, very reasonably, for just enough food to fill the bag. He’ll obviously say yes, because even he can’t turn down something that reasonable, but the bag will be enchanted to never be filled, so you’ll just take all the food, until he asks you how he can help you fill the bag, and you tell him that a fine nobleman has to step on it to seal it, and then he’ll step on it, and then you jump on him and pull the bag over his head and tie him up in the bag and hang it from a rafter, and then you’ll blow your hunting horn to summon your posse of lads and you’ll all beat him to a bloody, pulpy death in the bag.”

Pwyll just blinks at her, and says, “sweetheart, love of my life, light of my existence, did you perchance dream up that oddly specific plan a while ago, because if not, then your imagination terrifies me,” and this small, maniacal grin plays on her lips, and she says, “darling, you know how you asked me last year if you’d have to wait a whole year and then conveniently murder someone in a previously determined location, and I told you no?” and he’s like, “yes, I do remember that,” and she says, “well, ask me again,” and so he says, “babe, do I have to wait a whole year and then conveniently murder someone in a previously determined location?” and she’s like, “yes, sweetheart, but I’ve got it in the bag,” and then they high five each other and do a vengeful murder jig for like ten minutes.

And of course, a year later, they do it all over again, this time with a tiny enchanted bag and a goddamn point to prove, but that’s a story for another time.

My other retellings can be found here, and my Mythology Mondays Facebook page is here. My book is here. Yay.

I’m going to level with you: I typed out a whole bunch of super cool academic stuff and then my turdwallet of a laptop crashed and deleted all of it, and I honestly want to perish very slightly at the prospect of typing it all out again, but in a nutshell:

Some people think that Rhiannon was a horse goddess who was undeified by the Christian dudes who wrote down the pagan Welsh myths all those years later. While the Christian dudes did almost certainly sanitise the source material, we just don’t have any real proof of what they left out. The main argument for Rhiannon being a horse goddess is that she’s a woman and there was, erm, a horse. Not the most compelling argument. Some people also think she may be a cognate to the Gallic horse goddess, Epona, but this is basically extrapolated from the fact that they’re both female and somehow linked to horses, which I don’t think would fly in a court of law.

If you’re wondering why Pwyll didn’t just tell Gwawl to fuck off, it’s because he’s bound, as a nobleman, by a very strict code of honour and morals. By giving Gwawl his word, even before he knew what he was agreeing to, Pwyll made a binding promise. If he goes back on his word, Gwawl is well within his rights to challenge the fuck out of him.

Welsh myth and the Otherworld is super interesting. The Otherworld was generally believed to only be accessible at certain times and via certain places, called ‘liminal spaces’, such as bogs, bodies of water, and caves. Liminal spaces are essentially a sort of sacred space which exists in the in between, where the boundaries between worlds are porous and can be crossed, provided certain ritual conditions are met. The mound in this particular narrative is likely a portal to the Otherworld, which explains why Pwyll was able to access the magical realm of Rhiannon through it. The Otherworld, although not explicitly an Underworld, does have links with death and the afterlife, as do mounds, so that strengthens the connection. Bet you never knew mounds were so fucking cool.

Primary sources:

Davies, Sioned (2007) The Mabinogion, New York: Oxford University Press

Secondary sources:

Goldwasser, Michele (1994) What Drives the Mabinogi? Proceedings of the Harvard Celtic Colloquium, 14, 49-57

Linkletter, Michael (2001) Magical Realism and the “Mabinogi”: an Exercise in Methodology, Proceedings of the Harvard Celtic Colloquium, 21, 51-63

Wachsler, Arthur (1975) The Elaborate Ruse: A Motif of Deception in Early Celtic Historical Variants of the Journey to the Other World, Journal of the Folklore Institute, 12(1) 29-46

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BnHA 6th Popularity Poll Reaction Post - Risky Spoiler-Dodging Edition

hey guys, so seeing as the results from the 6th popularity poll were leaked today, I figured I would do a separate reaction + analysis post this year, rather than piling it in as an extra on top of the chapter reaction post tomorrow. I figure this makes more sense anyway, since they’re really two completely different things. also this way I can write as much as I want lol.

also, just fyi, I am still completely unspoiled for chapter 293. and probably the smart thing to do to keep it that way would be to log off tumblr and hold off posting this until tomorrow, but I apparently have no impulse control today so oh well. anyway, so I’m hoping you guys will keep this spoiler-free if you don’t mind! as always, I would prefer to just jump right in completely unaware tomorrow like Troy returning to the study room with the pizza boxes lol.

okay so this first part is just going to be my predictions. fyi I am writing this part on Wednesday night, and then I’ll add on the results part on Thursday or Friday (ETA: Thursday, apparently, since I am impatient.)

okay so first of all, just as a refresher, this poll was open to Japanese voters from Aug 3 to Sep 30. meaning chapters 279 through 285. meanwhile last year’s poll took place around the tail end of the MVA arc. so between then and now we had Heroes Rising, the Endeavor Agency arc, and the War arc up to the part where the 1-A kids took on Gigantomachia in Gunga, and started battling Tomura in Jakku. so technically only a couple of arcs, but a LOT of stuff going down in them. oh and season 4 of the anime as well

so! firstly, I predict that my truculent africanized honeybee son will hold on to his crown at #1, coming off a year in which he did some internship-boosted soul searching, borrowed OFA in movie canon, and finished out the voting period as the my-body-moved-on-its-own character development MVP. like CALL ME CRAZY lol, but I’m pretty sure his title is safe. and then after him will be Deku and Shouto as usual

Aizawa should hopefully also have a strong showing because the dude had a banner fucking year. reunited with his old dead friend, took on Tomura with his hopelessly inept hero pals, and then chopped his fucking leg off. he had better be in the top 10. his fucking leg died for this, idk what else he has to do

Endeavor also stands a decent chance of doing well given the internship arc and the final episode of season 4. which I’m sure will go down just swimmingly if that does happen lmao. especially if he somehow manages to rank higher than...

Dabi, which I don’t think he will btw, but you never know. anyways though, but I’m thinking Dabi’s going to have a stronger showing than in past years (in the last poll he only got 367 votes and was ranked 19th). mostly because of his fight in the Gunga mansion, and his cheekily censored name reveal to...

Hawks, who is also going to rank pretty high here, I think. might be he loses some points for killing off Twice, but his back was basically to the wall there. and he has always been very popular, and I think season 4 will also give him a boost, along with his heavy involvement in the first half of the War arc

Tomura was already in 6th place last year and I think he cracks the top 5 this year. he’s gotten exponentially more popular since the MVA arc, and got a boost in the last poll even though his flashback had only just barely happened, and he hadn’t finished Awakening yet and all that stuff. anyway, so he’s only gotten cooler and more tragic since then so I think he makes a big play here

Kirishima, Momo, Tokoyami, and Mina should also hopefully do well, since the poll opened right in the middle of all that Gigantomachia action, and Toko had just got done being an absolute badass and protecting his birb dad. I don’t think he’ll quite make it to the top ten, but he should

and last but not least, I’m hoping that Mirko will come out and take the polls by storm, although I have no clue how popular she is in Japan lol. she’s clearly Horikoshi’s favorite though. she SHOULD be everyone’s favorite, but I mean, we’ll see how it goes

anyway that’s it as far as predictions! and so now, through the magic of writing stuff at different times, we will fast-forward to the part where we actually find out the results!

OH MY GOD YES, STEAMPUNK KHLKSLLKL. HERE FOR IT. JOLLY GOOD SHOW. 5 STARS

Kacchan looks SO COCKY and SO HAPPY and SO ADORABLE, YES I SAID IT. he is adorable as FUCK. I don’t quite know what it is about this particular Kacchan that just screams “LOOK HOW FUCKING CUTE MY STUPID, LOUD SON IS WITH HIS BIZARRE WINDOWPANE-LOOKING CONVERTIBLE SUNGLASS GOGGLES and his POORLY TIED CRAVAT”, but I think it’s because he looks like if a Digimon character and a FMA character had a baby

anyway, so it looks like most of the people present here are more or less who we expected to see. except that I can’t tell for sure if that’s Dabi or Shindou, and if it’s Shindou I’m going to punch somebody in the face so you will have to excuse me

Iida wearing a TRENCHCOAT and a TOP HAT with ENGINE EXHAUST GOGGLE ACCENTS is my new favorite Iida of all time. take note how there is no possible way he can wear those goggles with them sitting on top of his hat like that. plus he’s already got glasses on. these are just purely for aesthetic and IF THAT AIN’T JUST THE STEAMPUNK WAY

Deku out here speaking softly and carrying a lead pipe. Kacchan you best look out. seems like he’s done watching you take first place year after year while he languishes in the number two spot. your only hope is that he trips while attacking you because his boots are unbuckled

Shouto’s standing over there with the rest of the non-first-and-second-place characters, but what are the odds his results are actually within spitting distance of Deku’s same as always. anyway he doesn’t mind, though. also his outfit is by far the most sensible one here, but if you look closely he’s got some sort of fire extinguisher/jet pack thing strapped to his back that’s got a control switch on his belt. Shouto are you jetpacking or putting out fires

Kirishima out here all “I’m not sure what steampunk is so I’m just going to take off my shirt and pose”

AIZAWA WITH THE EYEPATCH SKLKSDLKFJLSKJLDFKJSLDFFJLDKSJFL:KS. SIR. SIR. also, lowkey furious that Horikoshi refuses to show us the automail leg that he is clearly sporting here but which we just can’t see, SHOUTO MOVE GODDAMMIT

Endeavor has TWO fire extinguisher-slash-jetpacks. THE BETTER TO... WHATEVER. look at you here in the top ten again. you really live for that controversy

HAWKS OUT HERE WITH HIS STEAMPUNK BEATS BY DRE AND HIS WEARING A RING ON EVERY FINGER. nice to see you’ve still got your wings there, kiddo. then again Deku still has both of his arms too so who even knows what is going on

BUT SERIOUSLY THOUGH, IS THIS DABI OR SHINDOU. as if I don’t know the truth deep down in my heart. y’all I am gonna flip lmao. it’s not that I dislike Shindou, strictly speaking. but just... I can’t explain what it is, but if you put him and AFO next to each other and told me “you can only punch one”, I would be having a serious crisis. just, THIS FUCKING GUY, idek. STOP SMILING

Tomura looks like he just wandered onto the set here by mistake and has no idea where he is or what is going on. it’s because you’re wearing a bigass severed hand that’s blocking your entire view, Tomura. just take the hand off your face my sweet murder dumpling

anyway! so I managed to also find a link to the full poll results while somehow managing to avoid spoilers, and then I wanted to compare the results to last year’s poll, and so I made... this

hopefully you can all see this. if you’re on desktop you might be screwed, but on mobile you should be able to click and enlarge it. I mean, assuming you actually give a fuck about boring poll analysis spreadsheets lmao

anyway, so there were actually 13k fewer votes cast this year which is a bit of a surprise. is the series not still growing in popularity? do people apparently have better things to do during their quarantine lol

anyways but despite this, and despite getting 8k fewer votes overall, Kacchan still managed almost twice as many as his closest competitor. well fought, Deku. please put down that pipe

I somehow always underestimate the power of ship popularity to influence these things. but for example, it looks like Present Mic got that Vigilantes Trio bump. ride that wave for all it’s worth my man! hell, you got me on board

Iida fucking Tenya somehow got some sort of POWER BOOST out of NOWHERE which I can’t explain at all lmao, but I’m here for it. NOT BAD FOR AN OLD MAN

Sero managed to get the exact same number of votes in both 2019 and 2020. clearly the most loyal fans in the business

Mirko being all the way down at #20 is, of course, a travesty, and I hereby nominate her to be the one to punch Shindou in the face

ngl though, the lack of a single female character in the top ten hurts just a bit. it’s not overly surprising, but still. the worst part of it is that even if you kicked Shindou to the curb and moved everyone else up one slot, it would still be all dudes since Mic beat out Momo by a margin of a little more than a hundred votes. hard to stay mad at Mic for too long, though. ah well

Tomura actually lost a bunch of votes which is a genuine surprise to me. I know the villain standom isn’t as dominant in Japan as it is in Western fandom, but still. you can go ahead and punch Shindou too I guess

Tokoyami lowkey doubled his vote count over the past year while hiding down there at #18. he is slowly becoming more powerful. biding his time

anyway so I think that’s it! I mean not really, but I’m getting kind of tired lol. so just, you know, insert the usual gripes at Overhaul’s ranking here, although we can be happy about Magne making her way onto the list (r.i.p.), and Mineta and AFO taking a very satisfying slide down (all the way out, in AFO’s case; good riddance you bum). Hadou also got a huge boost which is awesome. Mustard’s persistent ownership of the #36 spot will forever remain a mystery to me, but oh well

anyways, this was fun. and I really do feel like everyone is looking away on purpose so that when Deku brains Kacchan with that pipe in about two seconds from now, there will be no witnesses, oh my fucking god