#she is NOWHERE NEAR THE PERFECT CANDIDATE

[rantblr]

you are all so excited for a Trump presidency. You will kill each other and shit your own pants in public in every effort to dunk one on Kamala; aka the slightly better equivalent of Trump’s policies. It is so exciting to see how many people are making pro-Trump posts because we will inevitably see 1 million posts post-November 5th of people sobbing and shitting and begging each other for help and support; speaking about how oppressed they’ve become after advocating for his presidency past the point they’re red in the face. Everyone’s itching to stick it to the stupid Dems up until the point where Trump wins and everyone is a fucking victim. Absolutely pathetic dogwater behavior from people believing the white supremacist will save the Middle East. Ugly and stupid.

[jaggedamethyst]

bucky barnes and his physical media

pairing: bucky x reader, use of she and girl once or twice

content: bucky is obsessed with physical media, especially photos…but he hates being in them. you try to change that.

notes: minors dni, slight smut but it’s honestly pretty tame here, some obligatory bucky angst. i don’t believe in proofreading I fear.

word count: 1.8k

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Growing up Bucky quickly gained a fondness for cameras. He loved to capture the images of those he loved--moments in time for which he could always look back on when he missed them.

He considered himself a confident guy and took said pictures at any opportunity he was given. He figured someone would always want to look at a face that perfect, if he could say so himself.

It was different, though, when the reflected images no longer were of the young man so keen on going to war. When the moment in time was one that could only elicit one of fear. He couldn’t recognize himself these days, not after being the Winter Soldier. The man was now adamant about not having memories that preserved him as he was now. Not when he was a shell of the man he’d known years ago.

If he absolutely had to take pictures, he was even more sure it would never be on a fucking phone. Not only are they the most fickle objects imaginable, he also hated the damn cloud. He wasn’t entirely prehistoric; he understood when people said that it was a way to store things…but a cloud. He’d had one too many mishaps with technology that things randomly disappearing from the cloud was not too far fetched in his mind. If he had to preserve something special to him it would absolutely be in an album. An album was tangible, and if it came to it, he could easily grab the stack of them in a hurry.

Physical media was absolutely near and dear to him. Whenever an old show was nowhere to be found, he clung to his DVD sets like a lifeline. The same could be said of his photo albums. They quickly became a way for him to reclaim some of the power he felt was lost with his mind. But taking pictures and storing them, to him, was therapeutic.

That's how he ended up with several albums on his shelf. Some were miscellaneous, ones that had yet to be sorted. Others solely for pictures of nature that he found calming to look at.

Nothing compared to the album he had of you, though.

An inadvertent smile would always creep up on his lips when his eyes met the spine of your album. Just the sight of your name sprawled in his handwriting was enough to make him feel warm inside. Inside were photos of you, some candid, others posed. He hated pictures, but for you he would at least attempt to stomach the feeling .

He flipped through the pages as he always did, feeling sort of proud he’d managed to take such great snapshots in time..and even more that he preserved them without the damn cloud.

Bucky made note to add more to this album; it wasn’t nearly as full as he’d like. With that, he swiftly closed the album—a gust of air causing one photo to fly out of the book. He grabbed the print that lay at his feet, not thinking much of it other than it would be returned to its rightful place among the other portraits of his girl.

As he flipped the picture, a heat quickly spread across the man’s cheeks. Oh. He definitely was not expecting this.

A selfie. Yes, that’s what it’s called. He’d learned that word a while ago. Somewhere in time he also learned that while people could be “in the nude,” they’d also referred to risqué photos similarly. Yes, a nude was how he would describe this one.

The man had seen many works of art in his day. Some of which were dedicated to his friend for his accomplishments in war. Others, of objects, like how Bucky would leisurely snap a photograph of a bird sitting stoic in a tree.

None of that compared to the polaroid he’d laid eyes on right now. His thoughts reeled in his mind, observing every detail. He knew it was hard to capture yourself in frame with these print cameras—no clear indication of what was in focus. But you were skillful.

The sun cascaded over your body, highlighting your skin in a way he’d never seen. He couldn’t see your face above your lips, but they curled in a way that seemed purposeful. How he’d do anything to see your eyes reflect the light of the sun that day. He slowly placed a finger on the photo, tracing the curve of your neck…your shoulder…your fingers.

No. He mentally groaned. The curl in your lips, a smirk, made sense now. You’d covered yourself where he wanted to see most. Hands crossed over your chest but your skin remained bare, teasing him. He felt so disgusted with himself even thinking this way, wanting to see more. It’s not like he hadn’t already, but in this moment the taunting imagery drove him up a wall.

He’s not sure when exactly he’d sat down on the couch or when his pants got to be pooled at his ankles. He’s even less certain of what time it is, but your footsteps approaching his door bought him back to reality. You’re off work.

The now strained fabric of his pants irritated him. Not only did your nude leave him extremely worked up, but he didn’t even finish before you got back.

Your voice resounded from the door, “Buck! I left the key, can you open up?”

“Coming!” He froze, an audible huff leaving his nostrils at the poorly timed reply.

He placed the photo in his back pocket before stalking towards the door.

With a swift swing, the door opened to your smile on the other side. Unlike the mischievous smirk that was printed in the picture in his pocket, this one was borderline affable. He let out what could only be described a a mixture between a scoff and chuckle.

You quirked a brow, “um, what's funny?” You rounded the space left by Bucky’s shoulders, making your way towards the kitchen.

“Nothing,” Bucky replied with a hint of sarcasm, “just had a bit of a weird day.”

“Really?” You turned to start the faucet, washing your hands before looking for something to drink. “You…wanna talk about it?”

The man felt his chest continue to rise and fall at an erratic pace. As the water continued to trickle he became painfully aware of the situation in his jeans at the present. Fuck it.

He reached for his pocket, quickly whipping the film towards your back.

He tried to level his voice in an attempt at asking his next question in the most nonchalant way he could muster. “Baby…what’s this?”

You craned your head away from the faucet a bit, “huh?” Grasping a towel, you slowly turned towards the sound of Bucky’s voice. “What’s wha- oh-”

An obvious shock appeared on your face but had he not looked close enough he would have missed it. The shift to an indifferent facial expression perplexed the man--even more when you replied in a chipper tone.

“Oh! I just got this new camera the other day at the store.” You moved past him, turning the corner and heading down the hall towards the junk closet you guys kept. He followed your movement with his eyes, stuck in place with pure intrigue. The distance and scrambling left your voice low to his ear. “You wanna see it? It's so cool and it wasn't too expensive!”

He moved back towards the couch, slouching a bit. “Sure, baby.”

Bucky twisted his head at the sound of you walking, no skipping, back towards the living room. “This thing is so easy to use, Buck. I feel like a pro like you.”

“I am not a pro,” he mumbled, his hand meeting his forehead.

He felt a hand on him, brushing his hair back. The nudge forcing him to lift his head to meet your eye. You’d knelt on the floor in front of him.

“I,” you planted a kiss on his cheek, “think you are amazing at taking pictures.” A pause loomed in the air, “but I wanted to do something for you…show you can be a great subject too.”

You placed a finger on his shoulder, urging him to lay back. “You should get comfortable, Buck…because this,” you gingerly plucked the photo from his grasp “is just the first installment to an amazing collection I think we will have.”

Bucky absolutely needed to work on his recollection skills—his ability to focus too. He again found himself with his pants down and no idea of how he’d come to be that way. This time, a cool breeze swept against his chest—his shirt somehow flung across the room. He absolutely did not mind, though.

The way in which you seemed to be skilled at everything truly blew his mind. With only a hand pumping him up and down, slowly at that, he’d found himself writhing against you. Whispers fell on deaf ears, as he’d quickly become overstimulated from his lack of release before.

“I- I-,” he stumbled as he usually did with you. There was no time when you were together when he didn’t feel at a loss for words. But here, with himself dripping all over your hands, your eyes looking at him expectantly, and your gentle lips grazing against his skin—he was struggling to even say more than one syllable.

You assured him, “it's okay, I know.” Simple words, but enough to make his insides tingle.

“Fuck…please,” he uttered your name. “I can’t-“

Your soft hands grasped his face again, a silent request for his eye contact.

It was so unfair, he knew that she knew that’d be his weakness. As quickly as it started, Bucky would finally finish. A feeling of euphoria and relief rushed the man, his skin prickly and glossed over with sweat.

“This is perfect,” he lowered his head a bit to see you back on your knees, this time holding your hands up. An arched brow raised on his face once more…you could be so damn elusive sometimes. At a further look, he could see you there, one eye closed. He searched between your hands, they were making L shapes in the air.

“Actually perfection,” you said with a flourish of your fingers. You leaned back, grasping your camera from the coffee table. “Now, be good James and don’t ruin my work.”

“I don’t know what you mean-“

Your finger met his skin, softly mixing in with the wetness now drenching his lower abdomen. He felt you marking a shape into the puddle—a heart?

Before he could even register, a flash. You’d taken a photo.

“Like I said, perfection.”

You left the polaroid beside the other on the coffee table, planting a kiss on the man's lips this time.

Bucky’s smile creeped up on his face, a happiness enveloping him.

“I think we need a new album.”

[sirfrogsworth]

Let's talk about vintage lenses.

Here is your cool samurai show with modern lenses.

Here is your cool samurai show with vintage lenses.

Hollywood is no stranger to fads.

We are currently in the middle of a "make everything too dark" fad. But that fad is starting to overlap with "let's use really old lenses on ridiculously high resolution cameras."

This is Zack Snyder with a Red Monstro 8K camera.

He is using a "rehoused" vintage 50mm f/0.95 Canon "Dream Lens" which was first manufactured in 1961.

This old lens is put inside a fancy new body that can fit onto modern cameras.

Which means Zack is getting nowhere near 8K worth of detail. These lenses are not even close to being sharp. Which is fine. I think the obsession with detail can get a bit silly and sometimes things can be "too sharp."

But it is a funny juxtaposition.

The dream lens is a cool lens. It has character. It has certain aberrations and defects that can actually be beneficial to making a cool photograph. It's a bit like vinyl records for photography.

[ Peter Thoeny ]

It has vignetting and distortion and a very strange swirly background blur.

[ Gabriel Binder ]

Optical engineers have been spending the last 60 years trying to eliminate these defects. And I sometimes wonder if they are confused by this fad.

"I WORKED 70 HOURS PER WEEK TO GET PERFECT CORNER SHARPNESS!"

And whether you prefer to work with a perfect optic or a vintage one... it is a valid aesthetic decision either way. I think vintage glass can really suit candid natural light photography. You can almost get abstract with these lenses.

[ Peter Theony ]

Personally I like to start with as close to perfect as possible and then add the character in later. That way I can dial in the effect and tweak how much of it I want. But even with modern image editing tools, some of these aberrations are difficult to recreate authentically.

That said, it can be very easy for the "character" of these lenses to become distracting. And just like when someone first finds the lens flares in Photoshop, it can be easy for people to overdo things.

Zack Snyder decided to be his own cameraman and used only vintage glass in his recent movies and it has led to some complaints about the imagery.

I mean, Zack Snyder overdoing something? I can't even imagine it.

Non camera people felt Army of the Dead was blurry and a bit weird but they couldn't quite explain why it felt that way.

The dream lens has a very wide aperture and it lets in a lot of light. But it also has a very very shallow depth of field. Which means it is very difficult to nail focus.

[ Peter Thoeny ]

Her near eye is in focus and her far eye is soft. You literally can't get an entire face in focus.

There is no reason you have to use the dream lens at f/0.95 at all times. But just like those irresistible lens flares, Zack couldn't help himself.

Here is a blueprint that you can't really see.

Extreme close ups of faces without autofocus at f/0.95 is nearly impossible to pull critical focus on.

Looks like Zack nailed the area just above the eyebrow here.

Let's try to find the point of focus in this one.

Ummmm... she is just... blurry. Missed focus completely.

But Zack isn't the only one going vintage. I've been seeing this a lot recently.

Shogun is a beautiful show. And for the most part, I really enjoyed the cinematography. But they went the vintage lens route and it kept going from gorgeous to "I can't not see it" distracting. And perhaps because I am familiar with these lens defects I am more prone to noticing. But I do think it hurt the imagery in a few spots.

Vingetting is a darkening of the corners of the frame.

Light rays in the corners are much harder to control. A lot of modern lenses still have this problem, but they create software corrections to eliminate the issue. Some cameras do it automatically as you are recording the image.

Vintage lenses were built before lens corrections where a thing—before software was a thing. So you either have to live with them, try to remove them with VFX, or crop into your image and lose some resolution.

It's possible this is the aesthetic they wanted. They felt the vignetting added something to the image. But I just found my eyes darting to the corners and not focusing on the composition.

And then you have distortion.

In this case, barrel distortion.

This is mostly prominent in wide angle lenses. In order to get that wider field of view the lens has to accept light from some very steep angles. And that can be quite difficult to correct. So you kind have to sacrifice any straight lines.

And sometimes this was a positive contribution to the image.

I thought the curved lines matched the way they were sitting here.

But most of the time I just felt like I was looking at feudal Japan through a fish's eye.

It's a bit more tolerable as a still, but when all of these verticals are bowing in motion, I start to feel like I am developing tunnel vision.

I love that this is a tool that is available. Rehousing lenses is a really neat process and I'm glad this old glass is getting new life.

This documentary shows how lens rehousing is done and is quite fascinating if you are in to that sort of thing.

But I think we are in a "too much of a good thing" phase when it comes to these lenses. I think a balance between old and new can be found.

And I also think maybe Zack should see what f/2.8 looks like. He might like having more than an eyebrow in focus.

[lilystyles]

gingerbread at midnight.

part one of the sweetest thing series by @lilystyles

the sweetest thing masterlist & my main masterlist xxx

authors note did somebody say christmas fic szn??? if there is two things people know about me it is that i love christmas and i love harry styles. so here u go!

brief description during a chilly evening at the bakery, harry learns how to make gingerbread.

warnings! fluffy christmas baking including niall :) (4.3k words)

grumpy!roommate!journalist!H x sunshine!baker!roommate!reader

* * * * *

It was a snowy December evening and Harry finished work early for a change. Being a busy journalist who worked for one of the biggest media companies in the world, he never finished before the sun went down. Even before he’d been promoted to his high position now, and he was just some young fresh-faced Uni graduate assistant who rarely saw the light of day. Waking up early and finishing late. He was always running off much less sleep than your average person, and even when he was at home he was busily typing away on his laptop. But despite his strenuous hours and stressful workload, he loved his job a lot, and openly admitted he was a workaholic.

This was why he needed a roommate. He worried for his sweet girl while he was away during the evenings. 

At first, he couldn’t think of anything worse, he’d had roommates in Uni who literally made him want to pull his (gorgeous) hair out and swore to himself he’d never do anything like that again if he could avoid it. It wasn’t that his job didn’t pay well, in fact, he was very wealthy and he could’ve gotten a sitter for the days but it just didn’t seem practical to have a sitter every day for the rest of his life. And no, his sweet girl was not a partner to crawl into bed with during the evenings, or a child who needed his attention throughout the day. 

His sweet girl was his spotted Dalmatian named Peaches, who got lonely during the long nights he’d stay at the office. 

Y/n had been the perfect candidate for a roommate. Who he had met through a mutual friend Niall, they went to school together apparently and Niall worked with her now. He vouched that she was easy to live with. There had been a period of time when he had nowhere to go and Y/n let him live rent-free in her flat for a month until he could afford to get back on his feet. She was stupidly kind and generous, sometimes to a fault, but if you had the privilege of her friendship you were so lucky. When Niall explained to Harry what a good person she was Harry believed him. Niall had this great ability to see people’s true intentions, and when he looked at Y/n he saw a beacon of light coloured like spun gold.

Y/n worked for most of the week too, sometimes on weekends if they needed extra hands or she felt like going in, but her hours were flexible despite being a baker, which was unusual for her occupation. But she had a good group of workers who all loved their jobs even if it wasn’t exactly high-paying to work for her, which meant Y/n’s day-to-day life was pretty breezy. And during Harry’s hunt for roommates when Niall mentioned that this friend looking for an apartment with roommates happened to be a girl he was happy, because girls were usually clean and smelt good. Y/n very much smelt good and left a warm touch to the once cold large apartment. Quickly after she started living there, suddenly vases of flowers appeared everywhere, paintings were strung up on his grey walls, hand-knitted rugs found their way onto the couch, food was baking in his oven and Y/n’s contagious warmth filled every room. Harry had grown up with just his mum and sister and there was something he liked about having a feminine touch that made it feel homely. He liked how soft, caring, and gentle they were. Y/n was so sweet, whenever he had a bad day she made a tea and let him complain for however long he needed. And she and Peaches got on great, Y/n took her for long walks in the park near their flat and sometimes she even took Peaches into her work and the gorgeous pup would just sit in the front greeting customers.

The tires of Harry’s car rolled against the snow as he steadily drove through the busy middle of the city to the familiar route of Y/n’s bakery. She’d ran it for a couple of years now, having bought it fresh out of culinary school. It used to be a bookshop that was owned by a lady called Miss Green, now it was called ‘Sweets & Things’ and very successful with all the locals. Before they’d became roommates and he’d even known of her existence Harry remembers eating a particularly delicious danish pastry with blueberries in it, funny that a few years later his roommate made him fresh ones when he’d had a particularly rough day at work. 

During the Christmas season the little bakery picked up a lot more. Y/n found herself catering for lots more events starting from October and she didn’t know why but people seemed to need more sweets around this time of year. Halloween needed lots of cookies and sweets, but something about Christmas drove her sales right up. Maybe it was what got them through the bleak winter weather. And since Harry knew she’d been a bit stressed by it all lately, not that she would ever complain that wasn’t her way because she loved her job and was grateful to live out her dreams, he thought it might be nice to drop her some dinner since she’d been neglecting proper meals during the work week.

He picked up some takeaway from this little mexican place near his office, Niall had raved about it a few times now, he got an array of food from the menu and asked what they thought was best. Now he had three big bags of spicy smelling goodness heating up his backseats. He knew that Niall and Y/n would be eternally grateful and Harry wouldn’t mind eating with their company tonight. He forgot not everyone ate takeaway at their desk in the pitch black like he did.

His car pulled up out the front of Sweets & Things and he saw the golden bright lights were still on in the front area of the bakery, but no one was behind the counter manning for costumers. Snow littered the grass and concrete out the front, all the benches people sat at were caked in a thick layer of white and Harry shivered at the sight of outside. His office heaters were broken so he was actually always sweating, no matter the season. 

He parked his car lethargically and the sound of Fleetwood Mac cut off with the engine. He knew that the bakery stayed open until nine during the holiday season since Y/n had been working much later than normal and he’d asked about it, Harry checked his watch, and there was a little bit until they would shut down but it didn’t seem all that busy. And his friends deserved to eat after all.

He locked the car and walked along the path shivering and hugging the food to his body in attempt to warm himself up. He wiped his dress shoes against the welcome mat as he pushed the door with his broad shoulder, his dress shoes clicking on the tiles as he entered the bell above the door rang and he heard Y/n’s soft sweet laugh from behind the counter and footsteps. A warmth wrapped around his body and the smell of sweet baking and pastries filled his nose. 

The shelves with glass casing showed to be practically empty of sweets. This made him smile. Y/n always felt particulary chirpy when people liked her new creations of the week.

He felt his face start to warm up now and he sighed to himself.

“Hello! Welcome to Sweet & Things, what can I get y—” Y/n’s voice began in her usual script to customers stopping when she saw him, “Oh, Harry! What are you doing here?!” 

She rushed around the counter to come give him a cuddle in greeting. That was something about Y/n that took him a while to get used to, she was very physically affectionate. He opened his arms for her and held her happily. 

She looked cute as ever. Dressed in an apron that was covered in all sorts of powder and a little pink blouse that hugged her figure, paired with her favourite well-loved Levi’s, her shoes were these dark pink boots that made little clicks on the tiles. She looked beautiful, despite the fact she was running off less sleep than usual, she’d been here since the early morning and was probably very tired by now. Her hair was up in a messy bun that she’d thrown back with a pen and her face was bare of much makeup today. She was just in some lip balm that he could smell was strawberry-scented.

She pulled back from his warm arms and smiled up at him as if she hadn’t seen him weeks when in reality he’d driven her to work that morning. They carpooled and in the evening she’d either walk or catch the bus but usually Niall offered her a lift home.

“I just thought I’d bring you and Niel dinner, it’s from that Flaming Green Jose’s place he was talking about.” He said showing the bags of food. 

Y/n smiled this really big grin that Harry loved to make appear on her precious face. 

Y/n knew Harry was a bit of a grumpy old bastard sometimes, he tended to complain and not like new ideas, but he really was the sweetest thing underneath his stern face and scary resting stare. He was a sweetheart underneath it all. Even though he was so intimidating and tall Y/n always thought he was quite delicate looking. He looked pretty even under the harsh light of the front room, he was in one of his usual business outfits he wore to the office that made him look especially good. Today’s suit was all black and he had a big beige-brown coat over the top to keep him warm in the cold and this deep dark crimson scarf that Y/n had bought him when she noticed he had no scarfs, he said how much he liked her purple one day it was so soft he said and she decided then he needed one too. His long curls of brown hair were dusted in snow and messier now that it was the end of the day. She was sure it was from running his hands through it, he did that a lot when he was concentrating or thinking.

She rushed forward hugged him again with a big squeeze and kissed his cheek in thanks, he smelt so addicting and her head was the perfect height to smell his clothes that smelt like he always did. Like tobacco, vanilla, and his citrusy and woodsy shampoo. 

“Well aren’t you just a doll?” She said with a smile.

Harry couldn’t help but smile back at her looking down at her as a dimple formed in his normally stoic face. She pulled away from him hand still holding his bicep as she examined all the bags in his hands. Even though he dressed very formal always, he still had his touch on things, like his rings. Harry always wore dozens of amazing large rings, and nail polish too. Y/n had conviced him a few evenings ago to choose this nice lavender colour rather than his normal black. He said he would only if she would match him. So her nails were littered in that same colour and she was reminded of him whenever she looked at the chipping colour while she was kneading dough. And underneath those long shirts and pants were so many inked pieces of skin, that suited him more than you’d think. 

Y/n loved when, usually on Sundays which were his day off, he was sat at home in just some pyjamas that showed all the ink and she could ask him the stories behind each while they did laundry. She liked him in suits of course, there was something very attractive about it, but she liked him all cosy and casual too. He barely ever dressed that way, only at home. She felt lucky to see him that way.

She snapped herself out of her daydreams about his gorgeous hands and that cross tattoo she loved when her tummy rumbled hungrily at the smell of the delicious dinner.

“Niall! Harry brought us dinner!” She called out and Niall stepped out of the kitchen. He looked similar to Y/n, dressed casual too, because she didn’t think uniforms suited her place. The shorter man was in a pair of his own baggy jeans and this brown knitted jumper and a pair of ratty old sneakers. His bleach blonde hair was in messy spikes and he had a pair of glasses on today instead of contacts.

“Haz, is that Flaming Green Jose’s?” Niall asked instantly without even greeting him properly as he walked over to sniff and grab at the bags.

Harry nodded lifting the bags in show, the green plastic was printed in the familiar taco on fire logo that proved it was in fact Flaming Green Jose’s.

Niall practically drooled and looked up at him eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas. 

“I could kiss you, mate!” He said, his Irish accent dancing off his tongue.

Harry grimanced at him and handed over the bags. “Please don’t. Just take the tacos.”

Y/n giggled by his side squeezing his arm in her usual way when he said something that made her laugh. 

Niall and Harry quickly began to set up the containers of different Mexican dishes while Y/n grabbed some cutlery, cups, and cold water for them all to enjoy their late dinner. The bakery had a few tables for people to sit and enjoy snacks at, and only for one portion of the day did they serve hot drinks, Niall was also a trained barista, which was perfect because she thought coffee suited a lot of her sweets. 

The three of them set up their food in one of the booths that was a cherry red leather colour. The snow was falling heavily outside now against the windows and it had started to quiet down out there. Not as many shoppers or people finishing work were wandering around outside as usual. The storm was keeping people, hopefully, rugged up and warm inside.

Y/n dreamily looked outside as she turned the big overhead lights off and switched on just the fairy lights she had strung up for Christmas spirit. They were a nice soft golden orange glow for them to eat. 

The three friends enjoyed their dinner quietly as the radio hummed some old jazz Christmas songs, they were all huddled together really close and Y/n leaned into Harry sleepily which he didn’t mind at all. The bakery was warm but Y/n felt chilly now that she was sweating away in the kitchen. Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulder to help warm her as they lazily chewed down their food. Even though he’d stripped himself of his massive coat and scarf he was still rather warm. 

Niall was right it was quite good food and a family-run business which was always nice to support. Y/n knew how it hard was to be a little business in the busy city of London.

The three chatted about nothing particularly worth noting, just talking about normal Harry, Y/n, and Niall things and enjoying the food. Harry was very hungry so he’d barely spoken a word just chewing lazily beside Y/n. When all the food was gone and they all felt sufficiently full Y/n kissed Harry’s cheek once more. 

“Thanks again for dinner, H.” She said softly eyes drooping, now that’d she been fed she was getting a bit sleepy.

He smiled, a big one for Harry, he was almost showing teeth. 

“I know how hard y’guys have been workin’, just wanted to help in some way.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. And it wasn’t too much of a big deal but the fact he’d thought of them when he’d gotten the night off was sweet, he was so busy and he chose to spend some free time helping friends. That hardly matched his scary persona.

This made Y/n’s heart swell and she spoke softly. “Thanks, Haz.”

“Yeah mate, you’re the best.” Chimed Niall wiping his face with a napkin. Niall had devoured his food contently. 

Their little dinner together was interrupted by the door swinging open, the bell ringing, and a couple of two walked in. 

Y/n stood up, moving from the warmth of Harry. 

“Hi! How can I help you?” She said plastering a smile on her face, walking over and tying the back of her apron back on.

The couple ordered a few Christmas cookies decorated like pieces of art and some cream horns that Y/n had made that morning. Y/n handed them their bags took their change and waved goodbye. 

“Have a good night!” She chirped to them.

They smiled and waved. “You too, Y/n!”

Y/n came back over and sat down again, looking over to Niall tucking her knees up to her chest. “Is it gingerbread time then, Ni?”

Niall nodded throwing his head back with a sigh. 

Gingerbread could be quite tedious. Especially the way Y/n decorated them. She really made them all individual pieces of art just for people to eat them. Which was beautiful, but also very time consuming.

Harry looked over, “I thought gingerbread was quite easy, Y/n makes it so quickly.”

Niall scoffed. “That’s because Y/n’s a machine. But even she can’t do this many cookies alone.”

Harry looked over at the tired pair of bakers and down at his hands. He tried to think of the last time he’d made gingerbread. Must have been with his sister Gemma when they were kids visiting their grandparents. But he thought if he could get an interview with James Hadden (a man who notoriously never answered questions to the media) then he could bake some cookies. How hard could it be? 

“Let me help then. Many hands make light work.”

Y/n blinked. “You hate Christmas,” she stated.

He looked over at her. “But I like your Christmas cookies.”

Y/n decided not to fight him on it. “Alright. Niall find him an apron I’ll start setting up.”

Y/n began getting out all the ingredients they’d be needing this way they could each make a batch to save time. She grabbed flour pouring enough into three bowls for each batch, some unsalted butter, brown sugar from the cupboard, some eggs from the fridge, baking soda, milk, and all the spices. As she looked at the array of ingredients laid out on the steel bench she noticed she was missing the most with most important ingredient; golden syrup.

She walked to the stock cupboard and saw the big bottle of golden syrup sitting on the tallest shelf. Adam, a really tall baker, had been working earlier he must’ve put it there. Y/n tried to reach on her tiptoes though it was no use, her fingernails only just grazed it.

When a hand came out from behind her gripping the big can it startled her and she turned to see Harry standing behind her.

“Oh, you scared me,” She giggled.

“Sorry, Love.”

She followed him back out to the kitchen. He placed the big can down on the bench and she took in his form. His long shoulder-length hair was pulled back in a bun now, and he’d taken off his suit jacket and tie, his black shirt was rolled up to his elbows and the buttons on his collar were undone. He had an apron on now too, one of Y/n’s collection, it was pink and frilly with flowers.

Y/n softly explained to Harry the process of making the batter and he was intently listening to her every word watching her through his lashes. Soon enough the dough was perfect and all three of them rolled out the dough the perfect width which meant Harry had to re-roll it. Once Y/n gave a thumbs up of approval they began using the cookie cutter shapes and cutting the cookies out. 

Harry had the make hearts and stars, Niall made gingerbread men and women, and Y/n made circles and snowflakes. 

Eventually, they put in their first batch, a little after 10. They kept re-rolling the dough and cutting as many as they could until the batches vanished. Harry was very good and gentle with his technique, and some were wonky but Y/n loved that he was helping and it took her years to perfect her cookies so he was doing very well for his first time. She selfishly wanted to keep his batch for them to go home and eat but she didn’t. 

By 11 all the batches were cooked or still cooking. Niall was on oven duty and Y/n was teaching Harry how to decorate. 

The ginger people were decorated all classic. White iced smiley faces and an outline around their body, little chocolate buttons for the outfits and a pinch of icing sugar to look like snow. Harry tried his best to do them and Y/n loved their imperfections it was like real people; all individual.

The others needed to be painted in colourful swirls of festive landscapes and honestly, they looked like individual paintings. Harry was amazed at her steady hand and ability to decorate such creative and individual designs for each cookie.

“Y’like tha’ bloody Andy Wharol of cookies, Y/n.” He said.

And she giggled her concentrated face cracking to a smile. She looked over at him. “It’s just practice.”

“No, it’s not.” Said Niall, from his station. “I’ve been practising for ages, your baking is just pure talent.” 

By midnight the last batch had cooled down and they were all decorating together and Y/n was humming along to the Christmas playlist she had put on. 

Niall twirled Y/n around and they sang along goofily. Niall and Y/n had been friends since culanary school which felt like years ago now. They were only teenagers then. All baby-faced and wide-eyed, now they were older and still just as immature when put together. When Y/n opened her bakery and she needed extra hands he was the first person she called. 

Niall was her best friend, and Harry had easily become her other one. Even though she was so tired and it was late, and her feet ached. The boys made it better. Niall singing into a spatula and Harry refusing to dance or sing was what kept her going the final stretch. She stopped decorating to go over to Harry, she looped her arms through his waist forcing him to step away from the bench and she tried to make him sway with her. 

His body stayed still and she moved closer to the front of him, in hopes of seeing his face. 

“C’mon! Dance, Grinch!”

“I don’t even dance when it isn’t Christmas, Y/n.”

She huffed arms crossing, “Please?” she asked, fluttering her eyes best of her ability in hopes of convincing him. 

Harry melted at the sight. She was so cute, even Harry couldn’t say no to her. He sighed like it was the most horrible task anyone could’ve asked him and she held out her hand with a smile. He grabbed it and she raised her hand for him to twirl under and he obliged spinning even though he was much taller than her. She leaned in close to him hands landing on his hips as his landed on her shoulders in an embrace while they swayed. She sang softly, and very off-key and Harry just shook his head. 

She was like a ray of sunlight, and he was like the moon. She looked up at him, “Thanks for helping,” she said softly.

“Of course….you’ve done way more for me.” He said.

She just shook her head and was about to reply but Niall cut them off. 

“I gotta’ get home to Max soon.” Max was Niall’s recent boyfriend. 

“Sorry, let’s get back too it.” Y/n said pulling away from Harry.

By almost 1 AM they were finished with every cookie. It was perfect. They would probably all sell out tomorrow. Y/n grabbed two handfuls one for Niall and one for Harry. She wrapped them like she would for costumers. She tied two pink ribbons and handed one to Niall. 

“Thank you for all your hard work, Ni, I’ll see you Monday?” He nodded smiling in his easy going way, and pecked her cheek.

“Bye, Pet, see you Monday.” They waved him off and they heard him leave when the bell chimed.

Y/n and Harry turned the lights off and grabbed there things. Y/n put on her layers of clothes. A big red coat, her lavender scarf, and her blue beanie that had a fuzzy ball on top. She grabbed her bags and keys and they locked up the shop. 

At least tomorrow both her and Harry had the day off. 

The walk to the car was brisk but short, the snow had stopped now and but it was still freezing. The pair stayed close by to one another, trying to keep warm as they walked quickly to the car. 

Harry started the car as fast as he could and cranked the heat and while they waited for it warm up they finally tried the few pieces of gingerbread she’d saved for them.

“Y/n this is so fucking good.” He said looking over at her. His hair was back down and he’d put on all his layers too. She smiled. 

“All you, H.”

He just shook his head. “You’re the best.”

She looked over blushing. “And you’re the sweetest.”

[flightfoot]

ML Fanfic Recs for 2023: 10K - 20K Words

So I’ve been going through and adding particularly good fics I’ve read throughout the year. Only Complete fics, of course. Enjoy!

Chat Noir and Marinette decide to fake date in order to get Buttercup jealous enough to confess. Why won’t that boy make a move on such a wonderful girl as Marinette? And why is he beginning to hope that Buttercup stays blind?

Adrien wakes up in Nino’s arms. Neither of them have any explanation for this, considering they were nowhere near each other the night before. 

Marinette and Zoe uncover a ring stashed away in a closet. Why does it have an unusual effect on Chloe?

Felix isn’t careful enough when he goes snooping around the Agreste Mansion. Gabriel decides that he can’t let him roam free.

Kim bets Alix that she won’t be able to attend all of her friends’ weddings in a row. She has never been one to turn down a challenge.

All this and more below the break!

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May I Introduce Myself, Your Highness? by @chocoluckchipz

Whether picking up a stray animal off the streets or saving a dying child at the market, Adrien had always strived to be the best version of himself. Truly, he would've been the perfect candidate to be snatched up by a kwami, were he an orphan, dying somewhere remote after a short life full of nothing but suffering and misery. Yet as it stood, the sole heir to the French throne had little to complain about. Apart from, perhaps, a complete absence of a love life. That is until a mysterious girl, wandering around his gardens at night, catches his attention.

I love Fantasy AUs. It’s a bit unclear what’s happening at first, but it all gets explained in the last chapter. Also don’t worry about the age gap between Marinette and Adrien at the start of the story, I promise it’s not a problem in the end.

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do you think I have forgotten about you? by @roseinaugust

Based on the song 'About You' by The 1975. Memory Loss. Told in alternating time lines, one leading up to and one dealing with the aftermath of Marinette relinquishing the Miracle Box and the guardianship. Marinette struggles with her life after losing her memory, though there is a persistent voice that calls to her that always seems just out of reach in her memory.

Beautiful memory loss fic here, with seeing Ladybug’s and Chat Noir’s relationship before she gave up the Miracle box, juxtaposed with the present day, when Adrien is only a stranger to her. I could really feel how Marinette was struggling with navigating these new circumstances, with her friends seeming to expect her to remember, to be who she was to them, to Adrien especially, before, and her just... not knowing whether she can do that. It’s got a happy ending though, for those who are concerned about that.

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Creative Lies and Destructive Truths by @azuriteartist

Alya and Lila are two sides of a never-ending fight. The fight between truth and lies, between honesty and deception, between justice and personal gain. And now they have the powers to elevate that fight to a city-wide level.

Can Alya stop the deception before it destroys the city? And can Lila stop the truth before it destroys her?

So everyone who’s been around my blog for awhile knows how much I love Alya getting the spotlight (I mean my sideblog alyaappreciation is dedicated to her, because frankly, she needs it), and azurite’s lovely fic here is no exception. Fu ended up giving Tikki to Lila and Plagg to Alya. There actually isn’t tension between them at first, they get along well to start with, but Plagg knows Lila’s lying about things and eventually pushes Alya to take action once they grow alarming, until the two of them are both accusing each other of being liars as superheroes, and the public doesn’t know what to believe. 

I’m betting there’s more of this AU to come. I hope so, I love the consideration and agency it gives to both Alya and Lila.

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How Marinette Learned to Stop Worrying And Love The Ball by @rosie-b

Hidden from the crowds thronging around the busy fairy portal in Paris's town square, a fae gate sits at the edge of the forest, locked, rusty, and full of ancient magic. Marinette thinks that this abandoned gate must not work anymore... but one day, a fairy disguised as a black cat steps through it.

Ah, Fantasy Soulmate AUs, my beloved XD. This ain’t the only one of this fic type I’m gonna be recommending. This is just a cute fluff fic without much strife. I love Marinette and Chat Noir being able to be childhood friends via his visits, even if he has to pretend to be her cat whenever he comes over, and I ESPECIALLY adore Alya being his chaperone and quickly becoming friends with Marinette in her own right. It ain’t a complicated plot, but it is a nice and warm fic.

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Vengeance Noire by @phiellydinyia

After a horrific argument with his father, Adrien escaped from the mansion with his heart in pieces. In hindsight, it made sense why an akuma was sent his way. He shouldn't have let his emotions get the better of him.

But he never expected Plagg to be even more upset than he was. He never expected his own kwami to be akumatized. To become the threat of a city he swore to protect. And what's worse is the fact that Chat Noir can't jump in to save this one.

But Ladybug can. And that's why he has to find her as quickly as possible, suit or no suit.

I love some good Adrien angst, especially with a delicious side order of Plagg and Adrien’s bond with each other. Even as Adrien’s barely functional, though, he’ll do everything in his power to save Plagg, even if Plagg wishes he wouldn’t go quite that far. 

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the best laid plans (of bugs and bakers) by @mexicancat-girl

Paris is buzzing with the appearance of a new ladybug-themed hero, Scarabella.

Alya decides to use her second hero identity to help her best friend Marinette. A bit of her flirting with Marinette is bound to make Marinette's crushes jealous and finally ask her out! Her plan is fool-proof…!

Except when it's not. Not enough people are talking about Scarabella flirting with Marinette. How can Alya properly help her best friend if the news can't be bothered to cover Marinette's budding romance with Scarabella and only posts things about Marinette with Chat Noir?! So Alya puts her all into her plan, upping up her flirting each time she appears as the newbie hero Scarabella.

This totally does not backfire in any way.

I adore fics that center on Alya, I haven’t exactly been shy about that fact. This is a nice one for some Alyanette adorableness! (And some Scarabella and Chat banter, I really enjoyed reading that as well). “Fake” flirting to make crushes jealous tends to turn real very quickly, and this is no exception. It’s hilarious, Alya’s the last one to figure out that her romantic relationship with Marinette is very much real XD.

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Control by @generalluxun

A fun and rebellious gesture by her friend Zoé leaves Marinette accidently in possession of something more precious than she ever expected to hold.

It's a blessing. It's a curse. It's life itself.

She has no idea what to do. There is so much wrapped up not only in WHAT, but also WHO. Her friends and partners can offer advice, consolation, and support, but in the end when you are both Ladybug and the Guardian you are the one in control.

This is a fantastic SentiChloe fic. Marinette ends up with Chloe’s amok and isn’t sure what to do with it, whether to try to give it to Chloe, whether to try and use it to make Chloe a better person, or whether to just hold onto it secretly. Along the way, she ends up getting into Chloe’s head, getting a better idea of Chloe’s mindset, what she thinks and feels when she does the things she does. I loved seeing her struggle with figuring out what to do, it ended up being a great character study for both Marinette and Chloe!

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Within Your Heart by Inkyibis

It's Valentine's Day and Ladybug just wants to her superhero partner to find his love.

And what she wants, the Lucky Charm will create.

If only she could remember what it is she did last night.

Adrino fic here! Marinette’s drunk and feeling awful that her superhero partner is alone on Valentine’s (she’s in a loving and committed relationship with Alya), so she creates a Lucky Charm to help Chat find love! In this universe, Ladybug’s Lucky Charms have the power to create new rules for the universe to follow, such as making one that demands that if you have any magic in you, you have to tell the truth or else you’ll freeze. Or in Adrien’s case, that he has to wake up in the arms of his true love every day XD. It’s very sweet and I love both Adrien’s and Nino’s relationship, and the relationship between the rest of the Miracuteam members as well, even though that’s not the focus.

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This Distance Between Us by @coffeebanana

After defeating Monarch, the search for the Peacock Miraculous brings Ladybug and Chat Noir to a hotel room in London. But it's hard to enjoy the victory when Ladybug can't figure out why Chat's been so quiet, why he seems so sad. How's she supposed to help if she has no idea what's wrong?

This is a great Sentiadrien fic, with Chat freaking out about it and feeling like he’s not worthy of Ladybug’s affections, but not telling her what’s actually wrong because he thinks she won’t want him anymore if she knows. Of course, he’s wrong about that.

Also there’s a pretty intense confrontation with Felix, pissing Chat Noir off is a bad idea.

---

Auspicious by The_Rabbit42

Entry #6 for AU April 2023: Reverse-Crush Kwami-Swap

Adrien is quiet and reserved whenever he's not consumed by stress. And between extracurriculars and modeling and his responsibilities as Mister Bug, he's often stressed. He appreciates his kitten, but he loves his bright and outgoing classmate. Not that she knows that.

Marinette's parents have always allowed her a good deal of independence, but she's felt her confidence skyrocket since getting Plagg. Simply being Lady Noire allows her to be more flirty and free. She likes her friends, but she loves her stoic and heroic partner. Not that he knows that.

This is just a lovely fic that’s exactly what it says on the tin. I like how Rabbit goes into what Lady Noire’s and Mister Bug’s dynamic is like here especially.

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Of Crisp Days and Crispier Cakes by @scribeofrhapsody

Gabriel wants to not be sick. Adrien wants to make a cake. Nathalie wants a chill birthday. Maybe they can help each other. Maybe it'll be a disaster.

So this starts off as just the cute fluff fic of Adrien and Gabriel attempting to make Nathalie a birthday cake that the summary indicates, but soon evolves into a more action-filled drama fic when Gabriel makes the terrible decision to akumatize a cashier while sick... a cashier who happens to be in the same shop as Nathalie and Adrien. Who are willing to put their secret identities at risk in order to save each other.

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After Irritation Do Us Start by @scribeofrhapsody

It was the most difficult decision of his life, but Gabriel did it. He let go of Hawk Moth. He moved on from Emilie. Now, all he wants is to enjoy life with his son and new wife. Unfortunately, a certain nephew of his seems to be determined to unearth what Gabriel needs to remain buried.

I love this look at what could have happened if during the season 3 finale, Gabriel had decided enough was enough and given up on being a supervillain, moving on with Nathalie instead. How much better things could have been if he’d just decided to stop - though Adrien still wouldn’t be happy to discover why Hawk Moth had suddenly stopped attacking.

Oh yeah, there’s an OC here called Gerald who Adrien’s puzzled by, since he’d never heard of this guy before the past year. At the end of the story you find out why he’s included in the story. It’s not a major thing, but it is kind of funny and fits well with the rest of the story.

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Rocking the Cat-Eyes by @buggachat

“I like being a girl.”

“That’s the alcohol talking,” Marinette snorted.

“I’ve always been a li’l jealous,” Adrien admitted.

“... Of what?”

“That you get to be a girl,” Adrien murmured, “and I don’t.”

—

When Marinette and Adrien host Girls' Night at their apartment, Adrien is easily welcomed to attend as "one of the girls"... but has a bit too much to drink. Some drunken confessions are spilt, some assumptions are made, and most of all...

Adrien is confused.

This is a great Genderfluid!Adrien fic. Marinette actually figures out that Adrien’s not entirely cis before he does, and tries to let him know she’s supportive... but unfortunately Adrien comes to some incorrect conclusions...

Anyway it’s a lot of fun, and Adrien rocks a dress and makeup!

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Desperation by OuzoAthena11

Marinette is at the end of her rope. There seems to be no hope for defeating Monarch, not now that he has most of the Miraculous and has figured out how to transfer their abilities to others.

Tikki has an idea: Awaken the memories of who Marinette was in the past to see if any of their knowledge across time and the multiverse could help.

But this means that Marinette might forever be changed, and so will Chat Noir, if he should choose to do this.

Little did they know that they knew each other in their past lives, and how frequently they crossed paths and even were a couple... well, that meant that they are soulmates.

Star Wars crossover fic here, with Marinette as Obi-wan and Adrien as Quinlan. I like how the reincarnation aspect was handled here, with Obi-wan’s and Quinlan’s memories being prominent and them “waking up” in a way at first, but those settling back down after a bit and Marinette and Adrien going back to being mostly themselves, but with a lot more life experience under their belts and some cool new abilities - which comes in handy for taking down Monarch!

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Family by @unecoccinellenoire

“You know,” Nino grins, “if you need advice on being a big brother in a year or two I’m sure I could help.”

The bottom of Adrien’s stomach dropped out.

---

Adrien struggles with the concept of his father and Nathalie having children.

So this is a world where Adrien and Marinette managed to defeat Gabriel, taking his Miraculous, with them giving him an ultimatum: they won’t out him as being Hawk Moth so long as he doesn’t cause any more trouble and does right by Adrien. Gabriel does, in fact, move on finally to Nathalie, giving Adrien a lot of mixed feelings to deal with. He still loves them both despite everything, but he’s also angry at them and he definitely does NOT want them to have children, both because he thinks they’d like any biological child they had more (he’s also harboring guilt from indirectly being the cause of his mom’s death), and because frankly, they screwed up too much with Adrien for him to want them to inflict that on another child.

And then there’s also Adrien dealing with the realization that he’s a Senti on top of that and wondering why he and Felix look the way they do, what Emilie’s reasons were.

It’s mostly just Adrien getting to talk things out, navigating this emotionally fraught situation he finds himself in now that the dust is settled.

---

Galaxy In Your Eyes by @liiinerle

Arriving in Paris, Kagami almost immediately finds herself assaulted by a dark, infectious butterfly. When she wakes up, a ladybug-themed superhero is standing over her, and her eyes are like holes into an empty, vast, and incredibly alluring universe...

An AU where the two main Miraculous function differently from the norm.

Nice Marigami fic here! Or should I say, Ladygami - technically Marinette doesn’t exist, only Ladybug, who’s an immortal creation goddess, or something like that. But she still fights to protect Paris from Hawk Moth alongside Chat Noir, who is still a normal, squishy human underneath the suit.

Anyway, there’s a but of inspiration from Nimona here, with a lot of people being scared of Ladybug because she’s a bit... out there, especially when she shapeshifts to have like, 6 extra arms and a lobster tail. Kagami’s into it though XD

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Stay Weird, Ladybug by @diadraws

Ladybug receives an invitation at the end of a patrol!

Contains some of my own headcanons, most notably: MIRACULOUS HOLDERS ARE CREATURES!!! They get actual animal traits when transformed instead of just a costume. My tumblr is diadraws where I elaborate some more on my headcanons which may add some additional context to this fic if you are interested!

CONTENT WARNINGS: *major* depictions of panic attacks, discussion of child neglect/abuse, and a minor emetophobia (vomiting) warning towards the end.

I’ve loved the comics and fanart I’ve seen dia create for this AU, with Ladybug’s and Chat Noir’s more animalistic designs, so reading a fic set in that AU was a real treat! It’s mostly just a Ladrien sleepover at Adrien’s house, but it’s very nice and cozy, with some good character development of Adrien helping Ladybug with panic attacks she keeps having.

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Trapped by @consistent-chaos-corporation

Felix asks to visit Adrien as soon as his father is gone. Gabriel catches him snooping, looking for Adrien's Amok.

Everything gets worse from there.

Damn, poor Felix. He came to try and help Adrien, but instead Gabriel stole his Amok, forcing him to obey his commands, holding him prisoner in his basement for months. If you want some quality Felix whump, this is the fic for you!

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When Secrets Come Undone by SortaArtsy

Ladybug promised not to tell Adrien... but she never promised not to confide in Cat Noir. What happens when Ladybug unintentionally vents to the one person who wasn't meant to know any of it?

****MAJOR SEASON 5 SPOILERS WARNING! ****

May not be season 6 compliant when it comes out.

This is a “Adrien finds out what everyone’s been keeping from him post-S5″ fic, and I think it’s handled really well! He feels very hurt, betrayed, and disbelieving initially about being a Senti and his father being Monarch (...mostly being a Senti, it ain’t that hard to believe that Gabriel was a supervillain), and is angry at everyone who kept it secret from him, but he still handles it well, going and talking to the people involved, getting their reasoning and perspective. 

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Wanted: Catnap by SortaArtsy

Adrien Agreste has barely been sleeping, trying to be everything expected of him. What happens when he spreads himself too thin? Sick!Adrien/ Cat Noir

Adrien’s just pushing himself so hard, trying to do his regular duties, until his illness forces him to rest. I love how concerned everyone is over him - even GABRIEL eventually relents and wants him to rest. It’s just cute and nice and fluffy.

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Felix is Fine by SortaArtsy

Felix wakes up sick, but is determined to keep it under wraps. Kagami refuses to be fooled. Feligami fluff. Implied past trauma/ abuse, though nothing explicit. Set post S5 so there are SOME SPOILERS!

If you want a Felix sick fic, this story’s the fic for you! I like how Felix and Kagami actually talk about why Felix is so determined to keep the extent of his illness hidden, what caused him to feel like he needs to do that, and Kagami’s understanding about it. Colt sucks.

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Our Tales Are Endless (That’s Why I Tell Them) by @joonapeach

Marinette lives a simple life - one surrounded by pretty dresses, fresh macaroons, and the calming view of Paris. It's a life she thinks she has always fit in.

And yet sometimes, when a certain boy comes by her shop with a flower and a new adventurous story, she can't help but wonder if there's something else she's missing.

This was a truly gorgeous story. It’s the classic “Marinette gives up the Miracle Box and loses her memories” storyline, exploring her life two years later. Even though she’s had time to heal and recover, she still feels like she’s missing something, something big. At least Adrien’s stopping by regularly to tell her stories about Ladybug and Chat Noir, even if she doesn’t understand why they resonate with her so well.

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a winter so warm by @rosekasa

winters were hard for even the best of vampires, but at least adrien had marinette to keep him warm with her cuddles.

december was going to suck without her. so it was only to be expected to get extra cuddles in before she left, right?

(well, not really, considering those heating supplements he was taking, but she didn't need to know about that).

This one’s mostly just cute cuddly adorableness! It’s basically like all those “Marinette gets the Ladybug trait of needing to cuddle up to someone for warmth”, but with Adrien instead. And of course featuring Marinette being a very talented witch who just wants to help Adrien stay warm when she isn’t there XD.

---

The 8 Weddings of Alix Kubdel by The_Rabbit42

The bet is simple: with the Rabbit Miraculous, Alix will be speaking at all of her friends' weddings. No matter what age they tie the knot, she'll be there looking the same. From Alix's perspective, she's going to each ceremony and reception one right after another in a nonstop bender.

This fic’s a lot of fun! I loved seeing all the different weddings, as well as how Alix slowly felt more and more out of place, with going forwards in time. Some of the weddings could get, uh. Exciting as well XD. And while there’s been years in-between Alix’s appearances for her friends at the wedding, for Alix, it’s only been a few hours, if that...

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and I thought I heard you sing by @into-september

When Hawkmoth has been defeated and unmasked, Marinette is left with two problems and no solutions.

First, that Adrien is further out of her reach than ever before, and no-one can tell her how to get to him.

Second, that Cat Noir is far more troubled than she knew, and the only thing she can do is wait for him at the place they agreed to meet.

It’s your classic “Hawkmoth’s defeated and taken into custody but that means Adrien’s in for a rough time” sort of fic. Everyone’s worried about Adrien and wants to give him what comfort and support that they can, but he’s being hidden away from everyone (which I mean, honestly that’s a good move), so that’s not really possible. Plus, Ladybug’s noticed that Chat’s having a tough time in his civilian life, which worries her.

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Time Locked AU by PumpkinPatchworkQuilt

In Time Locked, instead of just fixing the damage it puts everything post akuma back to exactly how it was, people, buildings, memories, time. Since it’s more extreme than in canon it requires both The Cat and The Ladybug to complete the Cure,(and visually contains both as well). Because of this only those with a miraculous can recall the events and only those who cast the Cure will have any lasting effects from the fight and even then it’s limited to scars, phantom aches, getting a tad more muscle definition and of course spatial displacement in extreme cases.

Since technology is slightly resistant or incompatible with the miraculous magic, footage of right after the akuma attack will survive, on a technicality and as such only reappears when the time catches up the the recorded time, that could be minutes, hours, or days depending on how long it took to defeat the akuma.

First story: Alya’s Guide to Surviving a Magical Terrorist Which You Can’t Remember

In a world where the fight against Hawkmoth is kept secret from the public, one Alya Césaire sets out to bring the whole thing to light, (and possibly win a journalism award while she's at it)

This was an interesting AU, I loved the focus on Alya especially and her investigative abilities, figuring out that there was a battle between good and evil taking place in the background of everyone’s lives even though most signs of it are wiped clean after the battle’s over. And Adrien and Marinette pick up on her cleverness and want her to help! I love how much appreciation this fic shows for Alya.

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Stitched Together by @nedjsmlfavs

Stitch Witch Marinette was just supposed to be having a nice, terrifying outing with her best friends. She never expected to find a magically trapped kitten, but here we are! Whatever happened to this poor little guy?

Poor Adrien, being transformed and chained up for ages, having no idea that he was gonna be rescued. But at least he got to have fun at Marinette’s place as a cat! 

Most of this fic is adorable, though with some dark undertones lying in wait. After all, SOMEONE chained up that poor little kitty...

---

Love Remains by @kasienda

Marinette stood in the center of her own room. The pink walls were adorned with sketches and photos, and other unfamiliar souvenirs of her life. Her eyes jumped curiously from a hand made purse to a bowler hat decorated with a feather to a cork board covered in pictures of her friends.

She loved her room. Which made sense, she supposed. She had theoretically been the one to decorate it, but she didn’t remember decorating it. And now, the room was like a cave filled with treasure.

Because each little piece of it held a secret - some part of herself that meant something to her, a clue to what her life had been like before…

Before she had woken up in the arms of a boy wearing a magic black catsuit. His heartbroken sobs had caused something in her chest to twist painfully. She hadn’t understood why then, but from that very first moment she knew she had wanted to make things better for him.

She had no idea how to do that now that she understood what she had lost.

Sixteen years worth of memories.

The echoes of which were papered onto the walls and notebooks of her room just waiting to be rediscovered.

No one else seemed to share her excitement.

Unlike most “Marinette loses her memories” fics, this one isn’t super angst for Marinette - she takes it in stride. Now, everyone else, not so much. It’s really interesting seeing her contrast who she appeared to be before with who she is now, particularly when it comes to her previous self being in love with Adrien and not Chat, while she’s in love with Chat and not Adrien. Of course eventually she finds out certain things that makes that make a lot more sense. She isn’t so different from how she was before after all...

---

Betrayal by @jennagrinsoverml

MAJOR EPHEMERAL SPOILERS!!

Ladybug planned to use Viperion's power of Second Chance to get Chat's identity to Su-han without Chat knowing or agreeing.

Of course, then the world went crazy, and she didn't go through with it.

But when an akuma exposes Ladybug's plan to Chat, he doesn't know that. He just knows that his Lady betrayed him.

He deals with his feelings in the best, most mature way he can think of.

He disappears.

So I, like a lot of others, wanted more follow-up on Ephemeral, and particularly on the betrayal of trust it was for Marinette to try to trick Chat Noir into giving up his identity to a third party without his knowledge or consent (I wrote my own take on that at the time, called Transcient, that I’m proud of). This fic did a good job of exploring that, with Adrien reacting in a manner that made sense to me (repressing his negative feelings about the situation as much as possible and trying to justify it to himself, but still feeling terrible despite his own best efforts), and how Marinette realized that she messed up, since Luka keeping it secret that he knows hers and Chat’s secret identities caused her to be upset as well. It did a great job of exploring those negative feelings and letting everyone talk things out, explain their viewpoints, and rebuild their relationships afterwards, which is something I really value.

---

Swimming in Circles by @generalluxun

Life has moved on for Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She's not where she thought she would be seven years ago, but she's still in a good place. Classes, hobbies, friends, her life is full despite the lingering shades of her faded yet sweet middle-school romance. Then just as quick at the first time, someone drops into her life and turns her into an absolute mess once more.

Love and crushes might be her undoing, but she's got a little more experience this time to weather the storm. This fateful stranger stirs memories as well as emotions inside of her, and with a forthrightness her old self would be jealous of, Marinette takes the plunge.

So this is a Trans fic, with Marinette’s new crush being a trans version of a certain classmate who she doesn’t recognize, who’s changed a lot, for the better. I like how it deals with the baggage she has with that person, has her think that through.

---

Three’s company by @torvalvt

Kagami has been doing her best for years to ignore her feelings for her friends. It doesn't help that Adrien and Marinette insist on spending as much time as possible with her, even going so far as inviting her along on their dates together. If only the affection she felt for them wouldn't get in the way of their relationship. Because it is growing harder and harder to tamp down her feelings with how close they are getting to her.

This is adorable. Adrien and Marinette really want Kagami to join their relationship and she just doesn’t dare hope for it. If you want some adorable Adrigaminette from Kagami’s perspective, I recommend checking this fic out!

[samstree]

(the 'jaskier likes a dilf fic' fic has a sequel, because i'm very nice ;)

following this

The blood is getting into Geralt’s eyes.

“Fuck,” he mutters, blinking it away, the wound on his forehead throbbing with every step he takes.

It must be a bad one if his healing still hasn’t kicked in. The gash runs deep and long near his hairline, bleeding sluggishly along his face. Geralt feels dizzy with the blood loss, the world spinning before his eyes. His senses are dulled—dark spots swimming in his vision, the ringing in his ears, slowed reflexes.

Head wounds are tricky bastards, he curses silently.

Geralt lets his feet drag himself forward, with much resistance from the uneven terrain and the injury, but carrying a fully grown man certainly doesn’t make it easier.

“Oh, thank you, master witcher!” Andrej says, draped over Geralt’s shoulder, head lolling upside down. Between every other word, he hisses from the pain in his broken foot. “If it weren’t for you, that beast would have eaten me whole!”

“Hmm.”

Geralt grunts, head pounding.

“I know you are a humble man, master. Jaskier told me all about it! He said you’d never admit to being a hero, but you are! Whatever shall I do to repay this debt?”

He says Jaskier’s name so casually, so intimately, without titles or honorifics.

The headache suddenly gets worse. Geralt has to suppress a groan. The barkeep’s weight is slipping from his shoulders, so he hikes him up with a jolt.

“Not humble,” he squeezes out the words in the end. “Just doing my job.”

“Still, you have no idea how much this means to me. To think I nearly died today, and my Lucja would have been left without a family. I fear no one would have taken her in this time. When that beast dragged me away, all I could think about was my daughter, master Geralt! My life is of no importance, but my sweet Lucja…”

Geralt grits his teeth as Andrej goes on and on about how he puts his daughter’s life before his, how he values nothing more in this life.

Stupid, kind-hearted Andrej, the best father in the world.

“How noble of you,” Geralt says pettily, out of nowhere. The blood loss lowers his inhibitions, making him more candid than he would like.

More reasons for Geralt to hate head wounds.

Distantly, he remembers he should not make such jabs at an innocent man who deserves no ire from him, but Andrej doesn’t seem to notice.

“I do not see raising my daughter as a noble deed, sir,” he simply goes on. “They say I saved Lucja’s life, but in truth, it was she who saved me! For you see, it is a privilege to love such a perfect daughter, who chose me as her family. I am only grateful for her arrival every single day…”

A growl falls out of Geralt’s throat on its own, the pettiness in his chest boiling hot. He barely notices the tavern appearing before his eyes as the good man rambles on.

Jaskier waits by the door, sitting on the step next to a small Lucja, who’s eyes are red and puffy. His arm is around her and patting gently, eyes brightening as he finds Geralt carrying Andrej back safely.

Geralt sets the barkeep on the ground, relieved both physically and mentally. When the beast came and carried Andrej away right in the middle of town, the heartbreak in Jaskier’s eyes…

He shakes away the memory of Jaskier panicked and pleading when the man of his dreams was in danger.

“Papa!” Lucja runs towards Andrej and jumps into his open arms. The broken foot is not the worst thing for a human, but it must still hurt when he lets her slam into him and picks her up.

Of course, the perfect father would do that.

“I am safe and sound, my sweet girl,” Andrej says between kissing Lucja. “You must thank master witcher. He saved me!”

Jaskier is hovering around the both of them, touching and checking Andrej all over. His face finally relaxes into a smile when he turns to Lucja. “As I said, Geralt is a hero! You see, your papa is back! Everything will be alright now!”

Geralt’s chest twists at the sight of the three of them, something heavy lodged in his throat. They make a lovely picture together, almost too precious for him to intrude.

With that, he turns to leave, but a dizzy spell suddenly takes over.

He stumbles, vision darkening. The ringing in his ears drowns out all the noises in the world, and there’s something warm and sticky on his chin. He touches it, and his hand comes away with fresh blood.

It’s nothing a few hours of meditation can’t fix, but he does need the rest. Now that Jaskier has the perfect man back, he’ll be busy cooing over his brave heart and broken foot, and on top of it, his undying paternal love even in the face of death.

Geralt needs to take care of himself, alone.

It’s fine, nothing he hasn’t done since before Jaskier came along.

Really, It’s fine, he tells himself again.

Geralt winces, and takes another step. His head must be more messed up than he realizes, because he only hears his name called out after a few times.

“…Geralt?” Jaskier appears out of nowhere. “Hey, darling. You are alright. I’m right here.”

Careful hands support Geralt by the arms, taking most of his weight. By instinct, he leans into Jaskier’s embrace. It’s familiar, and it’s a surprise.

Oh, Jaskier is right here.

“Why—” Geralt says, shaking away the fuzzy feeling in his head but only making it worse. The confusion of Jaskier’s presence by his side grows. “Andrej—”

“Hush, now. Here, let me.” Jaskier puts Geralt’s arm over his shoulder, guiding him up the stairs. “You saved Andrej, alright? His foot will be fine, because you carried him all the way here. Stupid witcher with your stupid heart…”

Jaskier complains more about Geralt’s heroics, but he didn’t do it to be a hero. He only didn’t want Jaskier to be sad.

“Oh. I’m not sad, dear. Don’t you worry about me.”

Hmm. Somehow, Geralt has said the last part out loud.

“Yeah, you did. Now—oof, let’s get you into bed.” Jaskier answers another one of Geralt’s train of thoughts, pushing open the door to their bedroom. “You are saying everything you think. It must be the head wound. Those are tricky bastards, I know.”

Geralt feels himself being lowered into the soft bed, the pillows against his back. Jaskier is all over him soon enough.

“Jaskier?”

“Yes?”

Those blue eyes are too close for Geralt to be thinking, he only leans into Jaskier’s touch. A soft, damp rug is pressed on his forehead, cleaning the blood away.

Geralt winces. “Why are you here?”

Jaskier’s hand stops, holding the rag and hovering. He shifts closer on the bed, his thigh pressed against Geralt’s. “Where else should I be?”

“Andrej…” Geralt closes his eyes, waiting for Jaskier to have the same realization. “You should go to him.”

Jaskier only looks more confused. His brows knit together in sympathy.

“Oh, my sweet witcher. It must be the injury messing with your head. Ugh, now I know why you hate head injuries so much. It’s making you ask these nonsensical questions.”

“Not nonsensical. You…” Geralt hesitates, not wanting to admit it to his treacherous heart. “You love him.”

The room is silent for a moment. Geralt focuses his senses on Jaskier’s breathing, the steady rise and fall of his chest, grounding as always. The headache feels less intense when he can listen to Jaskier’s breathing like this.

The gash is still an open wound, and Jaskier resumes his gentle care, cleaning away the blood clots and finding the bandages from the drawer.

“He’s a nice guy. I did, perhaps.” Jaskier says. “And?”

The bandage covers the wound, wrapping behind Geralt’s head. Jaskier gently tilts him forward so he can reach all the way around.

“And…” Geralt finds himself at a loss for words. “And, you love that he’s a good father to Lucja.”

Jaskier only shrugs, tucking in the corner of the bandage near Geralt’s nape. Both of his hands cup Geralt’s chin, helping him tilt forward, nearly tucking his face in Jaskier’s shoulder. A shudder runs down Geralt’s body at the closeness.

“Lucja is a very lucky child.” Jaskier finishes his work and pulls away. “Still, you are hurt. Why should I be anywhere else?”

It comes out as naturally as breathing, like it’s a choice Jaskier has never needed to make. To stay with Geralt.

“Huh.”

“I may have a thing or two for these gentlemen who happen to be lovely parents.” Jaskier meets Geralt’s eyes, blinking. “But as kind-hearted as Andrej is, he’s not the best father I know.”

Geralt blinks. “There are better ones?”

An unnamed annoyance rises again in his chest. There are more men Jaskier is noticing, more of them for the bard to get all hot and bothered over.

Geralt is trying really hard to not pout, but he can’t help the way his mouth tugs into the shape of displeasure. The blood loss must be getting to him.

A tiny smile appears at Jaskier’s lips, proud and wicked. “Why, yes. Of course,” he says. “There’s this one man. He’s better than the rest of them combined.”

A low growl rumbles in Geralt’s chest on its own volition. Before he can hide it, Jaskier lets out a chuckle.

“Should I describe him to you, dear witcher, so you may learn about my most prestigious, and frankly, almost impossible standards?”

“No, Jask—”

Geralt really doesn’t want to hear, yet again, how Jaskier’s attention has passed right over him and landed on another man, but Jaskier simply interrupts him.

“Where shall I begin? You see, he’s the best one in my eyes, not because he’s perfect. It’s the opposite, rather. He’s just as flawed as everyone else when they become a parent for the first time, but he always tries to do better. He knows of his shortcomings, perhaps too much, too intimately.” Jaskier’s eyes soften. “He feels guilty, for falling short in the early days, even after all this time. That’s why I’m here to remind him, of how far he’s come, how much he’s done for his daughter. It’s hard to raise an orphan-princess in the middle of war, you know?”

Jaskier smiles knowingly, and Geralt lets out a surprised oh.

“I—” he splutters. “Jaskier, it’s—I don’t—”

Geralt’s stomach flutters, his cheeks heating up.

“And he’s the reason…” Jaskier pauses, caressing Geralt’s cheek gently, careful with his injuries. “Well, he’s the reason I started to notice the rest of them.”

“The rest of them?” Geralt asks, brain still trying to catch up.

“Mm-hmm.” Jaskier nods. “All the other fathers started to catch my attention. Suddenly, I was swooning left and right at the sight of an older man taking care of his children. Once I added being a good dad to my list of standards, do you know what I realized?”

Geralt is now feeling woozy again, this time not for the blood loss. “What did you realize?”

Jaskier’s hand trails from Geralt’s face, making him chase for a brief moment, longing for the gentle touch. He catches Geralt’s hands, lifting them to his lips for a chaste kiss, and then another.

“None of them can compare,” Jaskier answers, solemnly. “Not Andrej. Not any of them. I have a man in my heart already, taking up all of the space, showing up in all my dreams. When he’s here, he’s the only one I see. Flaws and all.”

Geralt is warm all over when Jaskier’s eyes are on him like this, like he’s the most important thing under the sky.

“He sounds…” It’s hard to say it, but Geralt has always been more candid when his head is all over the place. “He sounds amazing. You should tell him more.”

“Yes.” Jaskier’s smile stretches. “I forget, sometimes, how deeply those doubts lie. Hopefully, he’ll forgive me for being neglectful.”

“I’m sure he will.”

“Or I should just profess my undying love, and never let his insecurities prevail again.”

Geralt’s eyes widen, his heart nearly giddy with hope. “You should.”

Jaskier’s features soften impossibly when he holds Geralt’s chin in his palm, leans in, and presses a gentle kiss on his eyebrow.

“Well, for one, he is you,” he whispers it like a secret, resting their foreheads together. “I love you, at your best and at your worst. I love all your faults and mistakes, and my love only grows when you try to do better. You are my favorite person, Geralt of Rivia. You are my heart, and my songs, and you are everything hopeful about this world. Now—” Jaskier kisses him again on the cheek, a big wet kiss that he wipes away with a thumb, pulling away. “Will you stop being an idiot?”

Warmth spreads from Geralt’s stomach, making him hum with happiness. The way he melts into Jaskier’s embrace, losing all the words, may indicate that he’s still failing at the not-being-an-idiot part.

“You love me,” Geralt mutters the most important thing, not sure how to react, so he traps Jaskier in his arms and buries his face in his chest, refusing to let go.

When Jaskier laughs, it’s carefree and indulgent, the vibration rumbling against Geralt’s cheek. His fingers have returned to Geralt’s hair, playing with it patiently.

“I love you, and I’m in love with you, my brave, concussed, impossible witcher. I might even say I have a crush on you when you are being particularly sweet like this,” Jaskier says. “And you do need some rest if we want that head wound to heal, dear.”

But Geralt is very comfortable, snuggling into Jaskier like this, and he also has a crush in return.

“I need to tell you too.” Geralt’s voice comes out muffled and sleepy, his eyes closing in contentment. “So you won’t have doubts… so you’ll know…”

The fingers in his hair are soothing, petting in a gentle rhythm that is getting slower and slower, lulling Geralt into a meditative state.

“When your head is clear, perhaps,” Jaskier answers. “I’ll still be here when you feel better. I shall confess my love again, lest you forget, and you can tell me all that you feel, all the sweet things you want to say to me. Well—on the other hand, when you feel better, I’ll also have the chance to tease you.”

“Will you?”

Jaskier’s smile sounds wicked, but Geralt cannot find it in himself to care.

“Oh, of course. Relentlessly. This is too good of an opportunity to pass, you getting the idea that I might care for Andrej more than you, simply because he is a good father. Hmm, let’s see, who should hear it first? Ah, yes. Ciri, of course…”

Jaskier’s voice blends into the background noise, chirping in excitement about the prospect of telling Ciri everything, his arms around Geralt, never for a second trying to let go.

Geralt closes his eyes, letting out a long sigh and finally letting himself rest in satisfaction.

A head wound may not be the worst thing in the world, he thinks.

He just needs to get better soon enough. There’s a love confession waiting for him, after all.

[themalhambird]

Just to correct some misinformation I've seen flying around, Diane Abbott has NOT been barred from standing as the Labour Candidate for constituency.

It's not clear who told her that she would be barred. Starmer didnt. Rayner certainly didn't. As far as I can tell, no one official told her. The decision about candidates is not taken directly by leadership, but by the party's National Executive Committee.

I don't think Labour have handled this incident particuarly well. But to say there's a purge going on just isn't accurate.

Like it or not, a Very Left Labour party does not seem to be electable in this country. They lost in 2010, in 2015, in 2017, and they had their worst defeat in over eighty years in 2019. Like him or not, Starmer has got the party to a place where its not only ahead in the polls, its been ahead consistently for two years and its currently still squeaking wider. "Red Tory" is a nonsense label- The Labour Party are planning on widescale investment in green energy; abolishing the tax free status of private schools; closing the tax avoidance/dodging loopholes that the rich get away with; forcing water companies to clean up the sewage they're pumping in to the water; nationalising the railways. Actually supporting, and perhaps increasing, devolution. They're nowhere near perfect. I'm a queer lets-go-with-woman/gremlin and the love of my life is a transwoman who does not pass. The Terfy shit Labour have been spouting terrifies me. Broadly speaking, however, they're still going to be better than another five years of the Conservatives. It's going to be easier to fight any transphobic legislation if we're not also fighting sewage dumps, complete disregard for climate change, and enlisting 18 year olds for National Service because a handful of boomers have hard ons for their parents' glory days.

The Tories are having a dismal campaign. Most of our media bats for the Tories. Suggestions of a purge, of a divided Labour party, being blown up out of proportion takes attention away from how badly the Conservatives have screwed up and their own monumental interparty slapfests. That is not to say that Labour haven't done anything wrong, I think there's a lot to criticise about the way this situation has been handled I general. But purge is an overexaggeration.

[catwings-writes-things]

For the ao3 wrapped: 3, 6, 16, 29

3. What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

Surprising no one, I'm gonna have to say A World of His Own. Before this year I'd never written anything (I do mean anything--no fanfic, original fiction, essays, nothing) longer than around 15,000 words. Now I have an in-progress fic with a single coherent storyline that's over 100,000 words long and nowhere near done. Some of the chapters are longer than 15,000 words. And not only that, but I'm really proud of the writing and the characterization. The Jailbreak Squad have taken over my brain and I have no objections whatsoever.

6. Favorite title you used?

De Humani Corporis Fabrica--Latin for "On the Fabric of the Human Body"--is the title of the best-known anatomy text by Andreas Vesalius, a Rennaissance anatomist and pioneer of human dissection, which at the time was considered taboo. As such, most anatomical knowledge came from dissections of animals, inspection of traumatic injuries, and conventional wisdom from earlier anatomists who had largely been working under the same restrictions. Vesalius was both sufficiently dedicated to his pursuit of accurate anatomical knowledge and sufficiently unbothered by other people's opinions as to cut bodies down from the gallows after public executions (sometimes having to fight stray dogs for them) and take them home to study, even allowing them to decompose in his living space to get at the bones once he'd learned all he could from the soft tissue. (He was also my first historical friend-crush, which probably tells you quite a bit about me, although perhaps not much to which my fic wouldn't tip you off.) De Humani Corporis Fabrica is his masterwork, illustrating what he'd learned with intricate drawings of bodies in various lifelike poses and states of dissection.

Needless to say, Andreas Vesalius was a Flesh avatar if ever there was one, not to mention probably autistic AF, and De Humani Corporis Fabrica seems as good a candidate as any for a Leitner. So when I set out to write a fic featuring late human-era Mike Crew nearly working himself to death in an extended burst of autistic hyperfocus and Angela the Flesh avatar trying to both help him deal with the immediate fallout and convince him that bodies have limits and he needs to treat his with more respect if it's going to last long enough to get him wherever he's going, using "De Humani Corporis Fabrica" as the title seemed pretty damn perfect.

16. What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag?

Families of Choice, which is the canonical tag on AO3 for the concept I've mostly heard referred to as "found family." It's specifically tagged on three of the seven fics I've posted this year (that number is misleading, due to my aforementioned longfic), but it could or should have been tagged on six of them. ("Fix-It," "Temporary Character Death," "Complicated Relationships," and "Twisted and Fluffy Feelings" appear on two fics apiece, which probably also gives some relevant information. Especially that last one.)

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

Honestly, I can't decide. I've been proud of so many things I've written this year that I really can't narrow it down--which is a good problem to have! If it helps, after I post chapter ten, I think I'm going to make a "pick your favorite bit of out-of-context A World of His Own dialog" poll--each option a line spoken by a different character.

Okay, never mind. I found a favorite. From Chapter 2 of A World of His Own:

“I can't... sit and watch television with you,” Helen finally said, almost a snap. “It won’t work.” She gestured at herself, head to feet. “This isn't even a real body. It's more of a... concept.” “Well,” said Harriet mildly. “Sit the concept of your butt down and let us introduce you to The Twilight Zone.”

Thank you so much for the ask, anonymous friend! I hope you have a great day!

[salarta]

Genuinely how can you make a post about Lorna being a survivor of a genocide then in the SAME POST complain about people not voting for a literal genocidaire who **is currently and has been doing so for the past year** aiding, abetting & committing the genocide of over half-a-million Palestinians????

The cognitive dissonance is insane.

I don’t hold not voting for Harris against people. I DO hold voting for Trump against people. Let’s get that out of the way first.

Real life is complicated. With limited and terrible options, a vote is not full-throated support for everything about a candidate. A vote is a strategic move.

We had four options in this election.

1) vote for Harris

2) vote for Trump

3) vote for someone else

4) don’t vote

Options 3 and 4 did nothing because under our current very shitty system, only Harris or Trump could win.

So then we look at those two options. Trump and the people around him are blatantly self-serving racist fucks who actively WANT Israel’s genocide of Palestinians. Not because someone is giving them money or threatening them politically, but because they’re racist and want to hurt and kill people who aren’t white. That they can get something out of it, like “beachfront property” as they’ve said, is just a “bonus” to them.

There is no pressuring Trump or anyone in his circle to stop supporting the genocide.

Harris, on the other hand, has spoken with people and groups lobbying for Palestinians and against the genocide. No, it hasn’t led to what it should which is at minimum not giving Israel material support. But that she even met with them showed they feel at least SOME pressure. There was a chance there to effect change that no other route could bring.

In an idealized fantasy world, these would not have been our options. In such a world, a path to actually stopping the genocide straight away would have appeared. But that’s not the world we live in. We have to deal with the one we actually live in.

Even the ability to protest and demand change is at risk with Trump in power. He’s made very clear that he wants to attack and “punish” citizens for any actions opposing his will. That’s very different from our current situation where we actually still have our freedom to protest and openly speak out against the genocide. Harris still gave a path to public pressure and condemnation meaning something. The cost of protest in America is about to skyrocket, while the actual payoff for that protest is about to plummet.

If you’ve looked at my Tumblr activity, you would see I’ve shared posts condemning the genocide, and posts about how the United States should needs to stop materially supporting these war criminals. I’m nowhere near the sort of attitude you seem to think I have. But I’m also cursed with the knowledge and full awareness of what our options truly were, and couldn’t simply pretend we had some idealized other path where everything goes perfect.

But here’s a final piece for you. Now that the election is over, and Biden is a lame duck, he has absolutely zero excuse not to cut off everything to Israel that he can until he’s out of office. There is no political cost for him or Dems. There’s no potential legal cost for him either, after SCOTUS falsely claimed presidents are immune to everything while president. And if we look at the plans for Trump and Republicans, it’s highly dubious if we’ll ever have another real, fair election again, so this might be the last chance at Dems having and using their power. Meaning this, among so many other things, should be acted on by Biden right now. That he’s not doing it when there is literally no reason anymore not to do it is damning.

There you have it. Now please find other paths that can effect real change to stop the genocide among other things. If you’re an American citizen, then time for that work is of the essence and the clock is ticking. It’s going to be a fuckload harder after January 20.

[understance]

just spent 20 minutes trying to convince my parents to register to vote so i don’t have to worry about my safety as a woman, minor, and queer person in this country. my dad just kept saying if he were to register, he would vote for trump because that’s who i keep begging him not to vote for, and he thinks it’s funny.

so please, if you are able to, register to vote and vote for kamala harris. she’s nowhere near a perfect candidate, but with this country you kinda have to take what you can get.

[reilliane]

✤ — Universe: Vigil ✤ — Concept: Two days apart, at long last, Kazuha has prepared himself to greet a latecomer... in more ways than one | Irodori Festival (Interlude) ✤ — Characters: Kazuha (platonic), Aether, Paimon, Xingqiu, Albedo, Venti — she/her A/N: Vigil!MC is a pretty lady and no one denies it. Also, there's a bit of angst in the first thousand words, but the rest is just a road down awe and fluff ehehe. We need an entrance before the rest of the parts come in full fluffy!.

Sweet, sweet Inazuma.

With its endless bloom of pretty sakura and perpetual descent of crimson maple, it appears that it too has come to welcome someone who's returning to her homeland.

The Irodori Festival is already at the pinnacle of excitement, what with the arrival of numerous authors and the jovial atmosphere lasting day and night.

But along with this festival arises a story cloaked in the smoke of buried history.

Kazuha has decided to hold off divulging the narrative he's held privy only to familial ties until the next afternoon—which is today—in favor of waiting for the arrival of someone.

He has two reasons; the premise being that Ayaka is acquiring more information herself, and him, truthfully a little sullen to go through this alone.

The past is, so to say, a delicate subject to touch upon. There are memories he doesn't wish to visit and mistakes that, up until now, he wishes to change.

But he knows this; he knows that he should no longer allow those blue devils to smite him, for he has redeemed himself.

Well, that is according to someone else's words.

If he is to be more candid with his still guilty conscious, he's nowhere near the remission he seeks... and maybe he'll never truly achieve it.

Ah, wait, what's he doing? He shouldn't have such a pensive front when everyone is at an obvious merry.

Besides, today is supposed to be exciting! Setting aside the serious matter, of course.

“We're all here. Perfect!”

The voice of Paimon brings him out of his reverie.

Time flies by so quickly when one is lost in another world, notes the samurai as he glances over the reformed group. Though one seems to not have arrived yet... to his dismay.

“Apologies,” his eyes proceed to wander around the plaza, “But may I be excused for a moment to head to the port?”

The smallest amount of concern rumbles in his chest, bitter on his tongue. It's a recognized feeling that he doesn't wish to rekindle.

“Sure... but,” Paimon decides to be the group's voice in the middle of their blinking surprise, “Aren't we already complete? Are we still waiting for someone?”

Eyes on his person, he decides to indulge them with eye contact, seeing how there is an assortment of expressions on everyone's faces. Which is understandable, given he's not one for abrupt diversions.

“Well... !” his supposed explanation comes to a pause when he spots a rather familiar person darting from one of the floral shops towards the docks.

His finger twitches. That man...

What he's thinking of may be out of the question, but he has to ascertain things for himself.

He bows his head.

“Excuse me, everyone. I won't be gone long.”

There sounds a collection of bewildered hums and gasps—followed by the Traveler's call of his name, but he does not look back.

Light on his feet as if the wind springs him with each leap off the ground, he moves with adept action. Swift to pass by like a breeze, but careful enough so as to not be a hazard to the people coming in to enjoy the festival.

When he arrives at the port, there is a noticeable ship unloading passengers—and the same man he saw, waiting with a bouquet of pretty dendrobiums.

He wishes his theory is false, but the second he sees the man darting toward a certain lady, he's already pursing his lips with a sigh.

“I have waited long for your return, my muse.”

Sometimes, he wishes his hearing isn't so attuned with the environment, but alas.

“Your beauty has not waned, but refined! Inazuma beams brighter with your return!”

The wharf is oddly swarming with a lot of people, the majority bearing faces he has seen from when he was an adolescent.

Working his way through the crowd, it comes to his prompt attention, the progenitor of such a mob—and he eases.

“Nee-san.”

The calling singlehandedly puts a stop to the blissful chatter, with plentiful eyes turning to look at him in apprehension.

Not like he minds, in fact, their alarm is well-placed.

“Ah, Kazuha! Where- where are you-”

The dulcet-sounding voice of his sister makes him course through the sea of shellshocked people—suitors—until he finally sees her. Or, well, at least her hands.

[Name]'s upper half is completely covered, hidden by a bunch of bouquets with differing flowers in each wrap. A flamboyant sight.

“The Kaedehara..” he hears one mumble as he goes to help carry the flowers, “I honestly didn't think I'd see them here.”

“Right? When I heard someone say that the Kaedehime will be coming back after so long, I just had to check it out. Now that it's true, I wish I brought something!”

Ah, that's right. The departure—escape—of his sister has always been known.

Perhaps it came with her popularity.

It's such a thespian matter to think that they're likening her arrival to a princess' return to a country that once sought to end her life.

Which is actually true, in a way.

Kazuha smiles the second he sees his older sibling's face appear once he has lessened her load of bouquets.

“Shall we get going? There arose some story pertaining to the history of our family, so I ought to wait for you first before proceeding to procure the rest of the account.”

“Oh, yes, let's! I'm quite eager,” the lady beams after bidding adieu to those who greeted her in the harbor, oblivious to the smiles belying their crestfallen expression.

Kazuha allows himself to chuckle. No, no, he's not making fun of them, no, of course not.

It's just a little comical, is all.

“I had to wrap things up in Liyue as quick as I could after receiving your letter. We were only apart for two days but it felt long...”

His sister is oblivious to the fact that the flowers she received aren't done out of friendliness, but with the intent to court.

Oh well. It's better that way.

Small talk arises on their way back to the Five Kasen Plaza, with him filling the other in about the poems and other findings they've gotten in relation to the Kaedehara's downfall.

It's a barely noticeable decline, the jubilance in his sister's gait, when he finished retelling yesterday's events. If he isn't so observant, he would've been led into thinking that this discussion doesn't matter to the lady at all.

“Oh, you're back!”

Ah. Kazuha braces himself.

“We were just about to go after-” Aether stops, blinking, “-You...”

The group reforms once again—and if they weren't that all surprised minutes ago, well they surely are now. Except for Ayaka, whose eyes are lit with silent excitement.

“Lady [Name]!” the Kamisato reaches to clasp the other girl's hands, “You're safe. Seeing you here puts me at great ease. It's been quite a long time since I've seen you... !”

[Name] nods at this, her lips also upturned.

“It has, hasn't it? How's your brother faring?”

“Oh, he's—”

With the two delving off into a small world of their own a minute after reuniting, the rest scoots closer to the onlooking ronin.

Paimon all but tugs at the crimson scarf, little hands clenched into fists as she bursts into a loud whisper, “Who is that!? Paimon feels like burning!”

Burning? Kazuha doesn't question the strange phrasing as he answers, “My older sister. Although I've come to journey with you and the Traveler, you both haven't met her until now...”

“There is an uncanny resemblance,” Calx speaks up with a hum, his turquoise eyes fixated on the older Kaedehara's profile.

It doesn't go unnoticed.

“It's clear why you chose to wait for her arrival before continuing a tale of history, then. Seeing that she's family,” concludes Zhenyu, whose smile appears to be a little larger.

Kazuha tries not to think much of the fluttering stares towards his sibling and he nods, thankful.

“I'm glad you all understood. My older sister may know more of the story than I do, as well, so having her here will be twice as meaningful.”

Well, he honestly didn't expect the festival to turn out this way—a run back down memory lane—because he initially only planned to bask in the merriment that the event has to offer, but tides change.

The green-garbed bard—someone that he felt is close to the wind—whistles shortly, a small chuckle of interest leaving before he glances at him.

“Very meaningful,” Venti winks, “Say, does your sister fancy music?”

Oh, dear. Now that's a question he's heard one too many times in the course of his childhood.

He wonders why such a query was raised. Surely it's not because—

“Pardon my lack of manners! Got quite holed up there,”

The entrance of another voice prompts the group to turn to the [c]-eyed lady. Kazuha notices that his sibling has one less bouquet, with said bouquet having been given to a bashful-looking Ayaka.

“I extend only the warmest of greetings. I take it you all are acquainted with my dear brother,” [Name] steps closer to him, then bows to the rest.

“I'm Kaedehara [Name]. It's a delight to meet you all.”

Facing that radiant smile doesn't last for long until the four, little flying fairy included, are simultaneously averting their squinted eyes.

It's an amusing sight. Was it too bright?

“Traveler, Paimon's going to fail as your guide if she goes blind!” yells the small girl in a panic as she darts to hide behind the aforementioned Outlander.

Aether rustles around with pink cheeks, trying to get the desperate clutch on his cape off without looking like a madman.

“Paimon, quit it... !”

“Ah... it's a delight indeed,” nods Venti, who has a glued smile on his face, his thumb raised in affirmation.

How bizarre, Kazuha almost sighs. All of a sudden, they seem to be acting a little strange.

Truly, the effect of his sister works wondrously. He can't deny that at all, she's the pretty flower of Inazuma for a reason.

But alas, now is not the time for gawking—even the mighty Calx appears to be a loss for words for once—for they've some history to undercover.

They mustn't get off track for too long.

“Alright, everyone. I would like to continue what we're about to-”

Thump!

“Goodness, Kazu, isn't this you? But why were you like that? Who tied you up?!”

Ah.

The bouquets have fallen on the plaza grounds, left forgotten by the lady who is openly gaping as she stares at a particular portrait.

I forgot about that, Kazuha blinks.

Immediately, there is an attempt to explain things. Calx is the first to try and clear up whatever's misunderstood, followed by Ayaka.

“Your brother was used-”

“Used!?”

Calx falters, “Yes—”

“Kazuha!”

In the spur of the moment, [Name] all but races to go to him, [c] eyes ablaze with concern.

She does not heed the others' hysteric explanations any mind, only acting upon a single objective.

“This is normal... I assure you, Kazuha will clear it up,” Ayaka informs the rest with a smile.

That much is true.

Kazuha allows his hands to be snatched and looked over thoroughly with an amused smile. Sometimes, he just forgets how much of a worrywart his sister can be... aside from being oblivious.

“Are you still a wanted criminal?” [Name] fusses, looking at the wrists and brushing her gentle thumbs over them, “You didn't tell me about this at all, what if—”

Oh, a miscalculation. He presents a timid and apologetic smile towards his acquaintances as his sister continues to ramble.

It's going to be a long day ahead.

a/n: FINALLY I- ugh, I've been waiting to write this for so long :v

楓　姫　(Kaede hime) - Princess of Maple (or in another angle, we can also refer to her as 'Kaedehara's Princess')

This the first part! Two more shorts will follow (aka the part where the older sibling embarrasses the other). MC IS THERE TO BRIGHTEN THINGS UP.

Kazuha's not alone in this universe aaaa ♪(´▽｀)

@cherryflushz @e7t3 @scarlet-halos @lordbugs @nebulaera @annoying-and-upset @hanniejji @applepi1415 @tjjjrsj @azirajane @hey-comrade-hold-stil @limelightsuperhero @chloeloe @loptido @windyventi @nejibot @ganyuqrt @justrinnn @uwu-dreams @nebulaera @yvechu @mininji

[jishyucks]

Perfect Harmony ‣ cbg

‣ pairing: palace attendant!beomgyu x princess!reader

‣ genre: implied f2l, royal!au, fluff, some angst, sorta slice-of-life

‣ wc: 5.7k

‣ summary: “A perfect harmony… that’s what they are”; alternatively, you're slipping and stumbling for with anyone but Choi Beomgyu—but maybe it's a good thing…

‣ warnings?: reader keeps worrying about an upcoming event (a ball) and experiences near-humiliation surrounded by a group of people, lots of question asking (overthinking?), ending might be rushed bc I write at like 4 in the morning

‣ an: this was cuter in my head :( and I rly just pulled this outta nowhere because I wanted to write something but thanks to @hoonieji for helping me a bit with this

The ball happening at the end of the week was all for you. Its purpose was to find a gentleman that was to take the place of the king once your mother chooses to step down as the queen. This was why your mother was making a great deal out of everything. So great, that you can almost see the veins popping out of her forehead from stress.

The entire situation was bittersweet. 

Although, you admit that it is more bitter than it was sweet.

It was sweet because you loved big gatherings. You loved spending time with people who have travelled miles just to attend your party, as well as the people who resided in your own kingdom. There was also a small part of you that was rather curious about the gentlemen your mother deemed candidates and the fact that any of them can be your future spouse.

It was bitter because this wasn’t how you wanted to find love (or at least, what people defined as love). You always imagined yourself finding love on your own. Whether it be by accident or having seen it from afar… you just wanted to find it on your own. Not through the judgment of your mother. 

You were afraid that these ‘gentlemen’ would turn out to be roach-like, or put into simple terms, disgusting. But you wanted to give your mother the benefit of the doubt. If she was able to choose a kind-hearted man like your father, then she would also have the ability to do the same for you. 

Or at least you hope.

“Princess!” 

You’re knocked out of your thoughts by the sharp voice of Mr. Geum, who was impatiently standing at the centre of the ballroom. He had his hands on his hips, weight shifted to one leg while he tapped his foot against the cool floor, “I am here to assist you with your ballroom dancing. Not watch you get lost in your daydreams.” 

Moving swiftly, you stand up from the chair placed at the corner of the room and towards Mr. Geum. One last reason that this all falls under bitter. 

You had to dance.

When you were younger, your mother would point out how dancing was often related to elegance and how elegance was a significant trait that every princess must possess. You remember thinking that all of that was nonsense. Only because elegance could be indicated by many other things. Not just dancing. 

And although dancing didn’t always signify the elegance of a princess, you started to realize that it did play a role in the trait. Especially when ballroom dancing was one of the most considerable parts of a ball. It created opportunities to showcase yourself, and you figured that knowing how to ballroom dance was important in finding your future Prince. 

“Today’s lesson is close to finished,” Mr. Geum points out, “We need to use all the time we have to see improvement, Princess.” Smoothing out his shirt, he gestures for you to raise your elbows as he’s taught, and along with your arms, you straighten your back. 

You don’t say a word. Instead, you sigh and follow Mr. Geum’s orders. One of the ladies at the side of the room starts the music, and through muscle memory, you begin moving your feet. They move in a box-like motion, the waltz, while Mr. Geum leads you across the dance floor. 

You follow proper ballroom dancing etiquette, counting by fours in your head. Although you’re certain you’re following the steps right, you begin stumbling over Mr. Geum’s feet, which causes him to trip over yours. He tries his best to correct you, pulling and pushing you in a way to fix your positions. This doesn’t work.

“I apologize, Mr. Geum,” you say at the song's end. If you’re doing this horribly with the waltz, you can’t imagine how terrible you will be with the foxtrot. The corners of your mouth turn down into a frown, brows furrowing in frustration, “That was all my fault.”

Mr. Geum waves off your apology, “No need to apologize, princess. You’re learning, so it’s understandable that you make mistakes. I have noticed that you’re following the steps well.” 

“That’s what I don’t understand, Mr. Geum,” you say, “I’m not uncoordinated. I can comprehend everything you’ve taught me and translate them into dance moves. I don’t understand why I can’t complete the dance.”

Mr. Geum nods in sympathy, bringing a hand up to his chin as he’s sucked into thought, “I have taught many students who have gone through similar situations as you have… it sounds absurd, but partners do affect how the individuals act together within a routine. You can think of it as two different notes creating a perfect harmony.” You watch as he goes back into his thinking pose, spinning on the spot. 

As if on queue, Beomgyu, the palace’s attendant, and one of your best friends, enters the room, layers of cloth napkins in his arms. He’s out of breath and restless. But even so, Mr. Geum calls on him, “You! Boy! What’s your name?” He waves Beomgyu over, to which Beomgyu complies. 

“It’s Beomgyu, sir,” he answers quietly, trying to catch his breath, “Princess.” He bows to you, and although he normally doesn’t do this when it’s only him and you in the room, he still makes sure to show you respect when there are others around. 

“Do you know how to waltz?” Mr. Geum continues, “The princess needs a partner that may help her prove her skill.”

Beomgyu nods, “Yes, sir, I do.” He looks between you and Mr. Geum, still slightly nervous. 

Mr. Geum claps his hands together, “Ah, perfect! Let’s see it!” He makes his way to the music player, motioning for you to set yourselves up. His attention is kept on you and Beomgyu, and you admit that it’s a bit nerve-wracking. 

“You know how to waltz?” You ask Beomgyu, “What other secret talents do you have?” Raising a brow, you take one step forward towards the boy. The space between the two of you is small. You would feel Beomgyu breathing on your forehead if you stood up straight. 

“It never really came up,” he says quietly, “May I?” His left hand hovers above your waist, closer to your shoulder blade, raising the other hand at the level that you would be holding your right hand. 

“Of course,” you grinned. With one hand you take his raised hand in yours while bringing your other up to his shoulder.

Mr. Geum counts down and begins the music. When it was time, the both of you began moving your feet in sync, Beomgyu leading and you following. 

Almost instantly, you feel a difference between the way Mr. Geum leads and how Beomgyu leads. When Mr. Geum leads, you can feel that he was much more commanding. The push and pulls were forceful, though they weren’t forceful in such a way that was considered rough. In the way you danced with Mr. Geum, it was evident that he lives up to his role as your instructor, leading you as if you had no knowledge of what you were doing. You guess it made sense, but you weren’t an amateur. 

You liked the way Beomgyu led. 

Instead of simply leading you, or almost dragging you along like Mr. Geum, Beomgyu made sure to move you along with him. It was almost as if he was waiting for you to follow in his footsteps although you both had to execute moves at the same time. Beomgyu was gentle. He knew how to move as if you both were one piece. 

The way Beomgyu leads lets you show off the knowledge that you have managed to acquire over the lessons you have taken. Your confidence is heightened, and you can’t help but feel relieved because you now know that you have the ability to dance with elegance. It all just simply depends on who you’re dancing with. 

You look up at Beomgyu, who is already looking down at you. His eyes are glistening—you don’t know why. You smile. You wish you could dance with Beomgyu at the ball. 

You’d probably feel the most confident with him.

“Beautiful!” Mr. Geum exclaims from the side. He stops the music and approaches you and Beomgyu quickly. He has a smile on his face, hands clasped together with pride, “That was a perfect example of what it looks like to find someone you, with lack of words, harmonize with.” He pauses and continues, “You two looked wonderful!”

You drop your hand from Beomgyu’s shoulder and turn to your dance instructor. Your eyes light up at the compliment, a smile following it, “Thank you, Mr. Geum. I’m glad I can show you what I learned from you.” Mr. Geum nods and begins to list what he’s prepared for tomorrow’s class, seeing that you’ve finally reached his current expectations. 

As you nod along to the upcoming plans, you don’t realize that you’re still holding onto Beomgyu’s hand. He’s looking down at your joined hands, unsure whether or not he should let go. He tries loosening his grip, but that’s when he realizes that it’s you that is maintaining the hold.

Finally, Mr. Geum concludes the class, “The lesson is over for today! I will see you next time, Princess.” He goes in for a fatherly hug and that’s when you let go of Beomgyu’s hand. 

Even then you don’t realize, and Beomgyu’s left confused.

°•. ✿ .•°

Beomgyu feels like a fool. 

And not because he was sitting on the filthy floor of the stables. 

He feels like a fool because he can’t get the feeling of you holding his hand out of his head. He shouldn’t even be feeling this way towards you but he can’t help it. He blames you, but not in a way where he’s angry at you.

Sighing, he shifts in place and glances out at the setting sun. He can feel his clothes getting filthy by the second, but he also doesn’t mind because he knows the day’s almost over. He can change into his pyjamas and then he can go to sleep. And by then, he hopes he can forget about the things that happened in the morning. 

“There you are!”

Beomgyu jumps slightly and his head turns quickly towards the direction of the voice. He sits up a bit, hands pushing him up so he’s not laying on the unused pile of hay.

Beomgyu’s eyes widen at you making your way into the stable. You shut the stable door behind you and make your way down towards Beomgyu, who’s evidently confused. 

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” You halted in front of him, “And turns out you’re just here.” You plop down to his right, using the back of your dress as a makeshift blanket to sit on. “What are you doing here?” 

Beomgyu stretches his legs out and shrugs, “Thinking.” He has no other way to put it. He’s been sitting here for the past hour just… thinking. His eyes flicker to your crossed hands, then to his toes, “What are you doing here?” 

“I wanted to talk to you,” You say nonchalantly, “I want to get my mind off of the ball.” You almost shiver at the thought of the anticipated event. 

“So I’m just here to distract you?” Beomgyu jokes. He raises an eyebrow, “Am I just that to you?” 

You lean forward and push him lightly, though it’s still strong enough to make him fall back into the hay piled up behind him, “Of course not, Gyu.” Sitting back up into your original position, you continue, “It’s just… every single person in the palace… hell, even anyone I encounter in the town… all they want to talk about is that ridiculous ball. I feel like you’re the only person I can talk to that will talk to me about anything else and understand.” 

Beomgyu hums a response, a sound that lets you know that he’s listening and, just as you said, that he understands. “Well… what do you want to talk about?” 

“Anything but the ball,” you snort, “You suggest something.” The sun has sunken deeper under the horizon, though it’s still peeking over it in the slightest. The blue of the sky is more light than it was navy. There was still plenty of time to talk.

For a moment, Beomgyu’s stuck with no topic to talk about. To be fair, his head has practically been occupied by you, and only you, for the past hour. Then he suddenly remembers, “How about Mr. Geum’s toupee?” Beomgyu looks over at you with a knowing look, trying not to burst out laughing at the image of Mr. Geum’s toupee that had been sliding off of his head. 

“I wasn’t the only one who noticed?” You let out a hearty laugh, “I couldn’t stop looking at it! I swear that that was the reason why I kept losing my footing with him! I wanted to fix it so bad.” This wasn’t just a one-time thing. During the past few classes, you constantly kept getting the urge to push Mr. Geum’s toupee up higher on his head. You were unsure whether it would have been more embarrassing for the man to have you do that for him, or have it flop to the floor without warning.

Beomgyu lets out a laugh, “It was the first thing I noticed when he called on me.” He grabs a handful of hay and crunches them up, “How could I not? It doesn’t look even close to his real hair!” 

You continue to laugh, “I’m telling him that you said that!” Beomgyu doesn’t sense that you’re joking, and at this, he feels the need to poke your rib. 

“Ow!” you whine, using one hand to clutch your side, “I was joking!” You’ve sunken closer to Beomgyu, almost laying down. You fix yourself up, clearing your throat, “That reminds me… where did you learn how to dance? You were good! I think you’re better than me.”

Shrugging, Beomgyu purses his lips. “It’s not really a special story.” He’s actively recollecting the moments related to dancing.

You furrow your brows, “I still want to hear it.” 

Beomgyu looks at you as if he wanted to make sure that you were fine with him taking over the conversation. You gesture for him to begin. He nods, “You know how my mom would always bring me to the balls the queen held when I was younger? When I wasn’t obligated to be there?”

Your face lights up, bringing a hand up to your mouth, “Of course I do.” Beomgyu’s mom was your mother’s lady-in-waiting, so she would often be found at her side, waiting for any orders. Your mother never minded Beomgyu tagging along with his mom, just as long as he didn’t cause any disturbances. She was lucky that Beomgyu was a good kid. 

“Whenever it was time, I would always watch everyone dance, and I memorized it all by observing. It sounds odd, but I stood back and watched the same routine be performed every ball.” Beomgyu looks over at you, “And when you see it happen tens of times a year for many years, I guess it just makes sense for me to memorize it without being taught it.”

Beomgyu finishes his short story, and you're left finding it endearing how Beomgyu had actually managed it memorize the ball dances simply through watching. Many people would see these dances happen would but would not bother watching the entire routine. “That’s amazing.” 

Even though you asked Beomgyu not to direct the conversation towards the ball, you decide to do it. “I want to save you a dance at the ball.” 

It was an impulsive suggestion, although you wouldn’t even consider it a suggestion. It was more of a statement, a sure one at that. It should have been a question, but there was a great part of you that truly wanted Beomgyu to dance at the ball. 

Beomgyu’s slightly dumbfounded at what you just said, not quite certain if he heard you properly, “What?” He didn’t mean to come out as disrespectful. He was genuinely confused. He needed you to repeat yourself.

“I want to save you a dance,” you say, “Dance with me at the ball.” 

Eyes widening, Beomgyu shakes his head, “Y/N, I can’t do that.” 

“And why not?” You raise a brow, sitting up straighter before crossing your arms. He better have a good explanation. Beomgyu tended to lie to get out of situations. You can still recall the times he admitted to lying to his mom to get out of certain duties. It was simply Mrs. Choi’s mistake for believing the boy every single time. 

Beomgyu flicks up some straws of hay towards you, “I’m part of the staff… I have a job to fulfill during the ball.” He shakes his head again and starts fiddling with more hay. He’s somehow grown nervous over nothing. 

“I can tell them to let you—”

“And I don’t want to take the spots of the gentlemen the queen has lined up for you, Y/N,” he interrupts, “Imagine what they’ll say if they see that someone from your staff is taking up time that someone else could be using?” 

If Beomgyu was going to be honest, having the chance to dance with you at the ball would be… nice. Sure, he already his chance to be your partner during your lesson, but the atmosphere at the event will be different. There would be people watching, you both would be dressed in formal attire, and there would be live music. Everything about the idea of dancing with you at an actual ball is perfect, but there undoubtedly were factors standing in the way of it happening. 

You frown, “I don’t care about them, Beomgyu. That just says something bad about them if they’re like that. Besides, I think I’d enjoy it more if you were there with me.” It was true. Despite the fact that your friends will be present at the ball, Beomgyu being there would help ease the stress you already knew you would be feeling that night. 

I think I’d enjoy it more if you were there with me.

How can Beomgyu react to that? 

Beomgyu thinks fast. He mentally rakes through all the luxuries that will be present at the ball, all the people you loved building relationships with, and the music. He feels as if all those things would easily drown him out. Then he scoffs. “There’s no way you would enjoy the ball more with me there.” 

“Of course, I will,” you sighed, “Why would I not?” You look at Beomgyu as if he’s said something remarkably ridiculous. 

Before Beomgyu could think up an excuse, you hear a voice call for you from the palace. Only then do you realize it’s much darker than it was when you first found Beomgyu. You stand up in haste, brushing off the back end of your dress, “I need to go… Please consider it, Gyu.”

Only to please you, Beomgyu nods his head, “I will. Goodnight, Princess.”

You roll your eyes at the title, “Goodnight, Gyu.”

°•. ✿ .•°

The guests will be arriving soon and despite the fact that you should be looking forward to it all, you were sitting in your room lacking the spirit to leave. A list of the gentlemen, the suitors, that your mother invited for you is staring right back at you, and you couldn’t help but grimace at some of the names on it. 

Sure, there were some names that you weren’t as displeased with, but there was still that one name lingering at the back of your head that you wish you could easily substitute for a name on the list. 

Your finger plays with the corner of the list, pursing your lips. 

“Y/N?” Your lady-in-waiting, Chaeryeong, knocks at the door, peeking her head in, “The first guests are arriving. The queen asked me to tell you to get ready for your entrance.” She knows how you feel about the event, hence the hesitant smile on her face. 

Your heart briefly tightens at the mention of the guests, your stomach twisting soon after. You turn to her, presenting an uneasy smile,  “Thanks, Chae. I’ll be in position in a bit.” She nods before slipping back out of the room, leaving you alone.

You take a few moments to relax and catch your breath. You want to admit. Although you’ve attended and hosted many galas and promenades before this one, you have never felt this nervous about a ball. It was the purpose of this ball that snatched away the carelessness you often had when attending these celebrations. 

Sighing, you stand up from your chair and smooth out your ball gown before leaving your room, still feeling your heart pounding against your ribcage. Opening the door, you squeeze your eyes shut as if it’ll help you ease your worries. And even if it doesn’t, you use it to help you focus on your breathing. Then in one motion, you step out and swing the door closed behind you. 

This is just another ball, you convince yourself, There is nothing to worry about.

Expecting there to be an empty hallway, maybe a knight or two standing guard as normal, you’re startled by the presence of Beomgyu, who’s patiently standing, waiting, against the wall across your room. Your eyes habitually scan his attire, which is what all the other male staff were wearing—a white dress shirt, a suit vest, slacks, and black dress shoes. 

“I’m here to escort you,” he smiles, holding out his arm, “You look beautiful.” 

Your heart leaps just for an instant, “Thank you.” Grabbing onto his forearm, he begins leading you down to the top of the staircase, which is the place you were to be for your introduction. Many of the other staff you pass compliment you on your appearance. Their comments bring you temporary solutions to your current predicament. They almost help you forget that you were expected to keep an eye out for a possible future spouse in less than an hour. 

Others comment on how the invited gentlemen are going to swoon, and that’s where you’re taken back to the reality of it all. You turn to Beomgyu, “Are you… sure you don’t want me to save you a dance?” At this point, you don’t care if you appear desperate. 

No. “Yes, I’m sure,” Beomgyu replies, tapping his index finger against the back of your hand, “My reasons are still the same. I don’t want to cause any conflict between you and the gentlemen.” 

“But you saw how well I danced with you the other week,” you reason quietly, “What if I mess up with the suitors and they decide that they—”

“If you mess up and they don’t like it, then they don’t deserve you,” Beomgyu says in a hushed tone. He’s not looking at you but at the staff members waiting for your queue to enter, “Remember that, okay?”

Everything, in the beginning, went by in a blur. You were only aware of the conversations you had with your friends, the delicious food, the lovely music—you wished it was like this the entire ball. But once your mother had announced the commencement of the special portion of the ball, everything was back to its normal pace. Maybe it was just your mind doing you a favour. Only because you did have to choose carefully.

You were instructed to proceed to the centre of the ballroom, and once the music started the gentlemen were allowed to approach you and ask for a moment with you. 

You didn’t think anyone would have the courage to be the first to dance with you. Many pairs of eyes settled on you, awaiting the suitors to come up and ask for a dance. But once the music started, a handful of the suitors approached you swiftly. You decided to go for the one directly in front of you, “May I have this dance, Princess?” 

You nodded, almost reluctantly, offering a gentle smile. 

“My name is Sungchan,” he introduces, “Jung Sungchan.” 

“It’s very nice to meet you, Sungchan,” you reply. You couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was. His smile was eyecatching, and he had this mysterious glint in his eye that enticed you. You now wonder what criteria your mother used when inviting these suitors. 

Was it through appearance? Success and wealth? Personality? 

He holds out his hand, and you accept it, taking this as a sign that he was going to begin dancing. Just as you were taught, you start following the steps that you practiced many times, counting mentally, while simultaneously listening to the things Sungchan was telling you.

“How has your night been?” He drops his hand from your waist and he spins you, “Good, I hope?”

You giggle nervously, “It’s been… busy.” Unexpectedly, you step on Sungchan’s toes, causing the two of you to stumble slightly. “Oh, I’m sorry! It’s–“

“Don’t apologize,” Sungchan interrupts, “Accidents happen.” 

You feel a sense of relief in your chest. Even if there shouldn’t be any excuses for such mistakes, you’re thankful that Sungchan seems to genuinely understand the occurrence. 

He leans forward, “I’m nervous, too.” Sungchan squeezes your hand and continues to make conversation. His movements are quick and sharp, which makes you feel like you’re obligated to move along to his tempo. Unlike Mr. Geum, he makes sure that you’re caught up with him before making the next move, and you believe this is why you aren’t tripping any more over his feet.

After you and Sungchan have danced together, another gentleman approaches, “May I take it from here?” He’s bold enough to bring a shoulder to Sungchan’s shoulder. 

Sungchan nods, “I hope to see you again, Princess.” He brings your hand to his lips and kisses it, backing up to give you space.

You smiled genuinely, nodding him goodbye before moving on to the next suitor. You know who he is. Yoon Jaehyuk. 

You’ve heard of many things about Jaehyuk from your friends. He’s got the reputation of being stubborn especially when it comes to business deals. If he wants it, then he gets it. You think that this was likely why your mother had invited him as a suitor. He was powerful when it came to connections and was rich as well. 

“Let me sweep you off your feet,” he winks, “I’m Yoon Jaehyuk.” 

Immediately, you feel Jaehyuk push and pull you similar to how Mr. Geum often did in your lessons. It felt like he will quite literally sweep you off of your feet, and you’re worried. Your mind flashes back to your lessons with Mr. Geum and how you did poorly with your instructor, and just as you expected, you step on Jaehyuk’s toes. 

You apologize quickly, eyes widening, “I apologize!” Jaehyuk shakes his head and tells you not to worry about the accident, continuing to lead you with the dance. Jaehyuk doesn’t seem to understand, nor regard, that you were struggling to keep up with his movements. But then again, ballroom dancing required two people, and you weren’t fulfilling your half of the sequence.

Jaehyuk brings up the topic of his travels, having travelled from two kingdoms over just to be here, “Your region is the prettiest.” He comments, “The flowers here are beautiful and they are unique compared to those in the others.”

Before you could reply, you stagger in your footsteps and interrupt the tempo that you both were following. The unexpected disruption causes Jaehyuk to pull you towards his own body a bit harder than anticipated, and before you know it, you’re falling into his chest. 

You regain your balance on your own, trying to catch sight of Jaehyuk who made a noise of frustration. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat frantically, “I just–”

Jaehyuk doesn’t say another word, instead, he lets go of you and he walks away, shaking his head. You can’t tell if it was out of irritation, disappointment, or embarrassment, but you felt a huge sense of remorse for what just happened. 

If you mess up and they don’t like it, then they don’t deserve you. Beomgyu’s words echo in your head. 

You squeeze your eyes shut and then open them again, scanning the crowd for the other suitors. All of the room’s attention was on you, and after what just happened, you didn’t like it. 

“Next suitor?” You hear your mother’s voice bound from behind you. The music is still playing, waiting for bodies to dance to its melody. 

Your heart was beginning to beat faster and you felt as though the temperature in the room was rising rapidly. Again, your eyes scan the crowd, and to your left, you see Jaehyuk whispering to the other men words that you cannot hear from where you stood. And although you don’t want to assume the words are about you, his eyes continue to flicker to you, almost signifying that you were the topic.

“Next suitor?” Your mother repeats, voice wavering. No one dares to move forward and you’re not sure why. 

Was it because of your mistake? What was Jaehyuk telling them? Were you simply imagining everything?

Then, your mother’s voice appears in your head. The ability to dance signifies elegance. 

Did that one misstep give them the impression that you didn’t have elegance? Why did this even matter?

Questions are running through your head and you’re unable to stop them. Not when everyone’s staring at you. Not when no other gentleman is willing to take his turn. Not when you think you’ve actually blown your chances of finding someone that will take place as king. 

Your head falls in between your shoulders and you close your eyes, only hoping for all of this to end. Why couldn’t this all go by in a blur? Where was Beomgyu when you needed him?

As the music continues on quietly in the background, you start to hear commotion somewhere in the crowd. You choose not to look, afraid that whatever is happening will only cause you more stress. There’s whispering, though you can hear it gradually increasing in volume. 

Then you feel a hand on your shoulder.

You lift your head, opening your eyes so that you could graciously face whoever it was saving you from your embarrassment.

“Y/N.”

You open your mouth but nothing comes out. And you know he understands the reason for this. Without hesitation, you took a big step towards him, the front of your dress pressed up against his legs, and you let your forehead fall onto his chest. 

You close your eyes. “Beomgyu…” 

You feel like crying. It’s not clear whether you want to do it out of humiliation or built-up stress, but you know for sure that part of the urge is from relief. You’re relieved that someone’s here to join you at your side, despite the numerous people watching, and judging. You’re even more relieved that this someone was Beomgyu—the boy who you want to admit brings you comfort no matter what the situation.

“Still have that dance saved for me?” He whispers. He nudges your forearm with the back of his wrist in attempt to lighten up your mood. Beomgyu can feel all eyes on him as much as they were on you. But he turns a blind eye to them, his priority being you and making sure you are okay. 

Lifting your head, you nodded, “Always.” 

A smile rises upon Beomgyu’s lips at your answer before he steps back to bow, “May I have this dance, Princess?” 

You nod, mirroring Beomgyu’s smile.

In one swift motion, you and Beomgyu bring your hands up to  appropriate positions. Once you both were set and ready, your feet begin to move along to the music, counting to fours mentally. Your eyes travel from Beomgyu’s chest and up to his eyes. He’s already staring back at you, lips permanently propped into a gentle and comforting grin. 

Anyone who’s watching from the surrounding crowd can see how well you and Beomgyu danced together. As if the floor was ice, you both glided across the dance floor with ease, almost as though you practiced the routine for endless hours. 

As the song continued, you feel the worry in your chest begin to diminish, your confidence level slowly increasing as moments go by. The guests soon start to disappear from your peripheral view, almost as though as you and Beomgyu were the only ones in the room. Your mother was gone, your friends were gone, Sungchan was nowhere to be seen, and Jaehyuk? You couldn’t care less about where he went. 

It was just you and Beomgyu. 

As you and Beomgyu waltzed, your mind wanders back to the words that Mr. Geum had described how two people connected when they were dancing. You couldn’t help but ponder over his metaphor because here you were, dancing almost perfectly with Beomgyu, when not even minutes ago, you were stumbling roughly over, not just your own feet, but even another’s. 

If you were a musical note, you simply did not harmonize with Jaehyuk or Sungchan. And although it was a shame that you may not even get a chance to dance with the other gentlemen, dancing with Beomgyu made it evident that your notional musical note is compatible with his. 

Unbeknownst to your knowledge, Mr. Geum stands at the edge of the audience, a sense of pride growing steadily within his chest. His hands are crossed together, palm-to-palm, and brought up to his chin as he watches the two of you in endearment. 

“A perfect harmony.” Mr. Geum says this under his breath—so quiet that he believes that he is the only one who is able to hear his statement. Only, he doesn’t take notice of the queen who quietly positions herself at his side.

“Perfect Harmony?” She has a brow raised as she looks to Mr. Geum for an explanation. She says this out of curiosity, not quite understanding the meaning behind the instructor’s words. 

Mr. Geum nods and repeats himself, “A perfect harmony… that’s what they are.”

°•. ✿ .•°

hope you enjoyed this!

tags: @k-radio @whipped-kpop-creators

[tigerseye46]

Red Sand/Shark AU

So this is an au where Sha Wujing is the one who retired and Red is his successor.

I had a lot of amazing help from my anons and others for this au and I just want to thank them for that! You all made the au 100% more awesome! So here’s the au (re-uploaded cause it wouldn’t appear on my dash):

Sha Wujing: Sha Wujing takes Wukong’s place as the teacher and retired hero of this au and is the mentor of Red Son, albeit a reluctant mentor. Sha Wujing, unlike his canon counterpart, has not calmed down and is still rage-filled due to isolating himself for centuries. He has isolated himself due to Tripitaka’s death at the hands of a demon which he believes he, Bajie and Wukong could have prevented even though the other two were nowhere near at the time. He has a strained relationship with them because of this belief. Due to the monk’s death, he started picking fights in the mortal realm with any demon and sometimes human he could. The other three tried to stop him at multiple points but he wouldn’t listen and they had no choice but to give up. Eventually he came to the conclusion that this isn’t what Tripitaka would want and decided to pick one last fight to seal the Spider Queen before retiring.

He has rarely spoken to anyone else in centuries, he is extremely closed off to people. and has a lot of rage pent up. He lives on a mountain around the city that has a small house on his mountain and it has a river. He has the basics, oven, microwave, fridge, he also has a tv. Although he doesn’t use the television as much and considers it good background noise while he’s cooking or training. He absolutely despises it when any trace of his past adventures come onto the screen due to the events that have happened. He has a bunch of training equipment around that he uses to at least better manage his rage. He also builds inventions similar to his counterpart and it is something he and Red have in common. He does love tea and cats in this au but doesn’t own any cats in the beginning. He keeps a shrine of Tripitaka in his home and talks to it at certain points, he also has Tripitaka’s old staff.

Fun fact, he didn’t even want a successor and the only reason Red became his successor is because Guanyin appeared to him a couple years before the au and told him that trouble was brewing. She knows he gave up fighting so she proposes that he find a successor and she knows the perfect candidate, Red. After watching him for a bit, he agreed with her and waited for something to happen but wasn't exactly happy at the thought of having to train someone since it meant having prolonged social interaction, especially someone that almost killed his brother even if he isn’t Wukong’s biggest fan by that point. He is rather grumpy while training Red and they clash at certain points but they do have a respect for each other. He is more blunt and honest here.

Red: Red Son is the successor of Sha Wujing and formerly the disciple of Guanyin who after noticing how far he had come decided to let him go to the city to meet new people. He arrives at the city 2-5 years before the events of the au start and keeps a human form. While they still have somewhat of a temper, it is nowhere as bad as canon. They were initially confused by the city as due to being under Guanyin’s teaching, they weren’t as exposed to technology. It wasn’t until they met Mei who showed them the ropes that they finally got the hang of things. They build inventions like their counterpart but aren’t as skilled as canon Red since they’ve only been doing this for five years tops.

Mei actually gave her a place in the beginning since they didn’t have anywhere to go since they were still new. Red refused at first but gradually gave into Mei’s persistence. They were roommates for a while while the demon figured out where they could work. They noticed Mei’s struggle with her parents and encouraged her to be open about it, resulting in her becoming happier as a person and embracing her dragon heritage. Mei introduced them to Tang and got taken in by the human. Tang gave Red a place at his shop, although he works more at the cover business since he wants some sense of normalcy but he does do things like stock supplies for the magic side sometimes.

He hasn’t told anyone who his parents are nor has he found them again and prefers to keep a low profile. He also keeps the fact that he’s a demon a secret along with his fire powers. The fire powers only show up when he’s overcome with rage but since they aren’t as rage filled as their canon counterpart, that is rare. He isn’t exactly thrilled to be someone’s successor since it meant giving up his normal life but does it to further atone for his actions.

Mei/Long Xiaojiao: Xiaojiao remains here as the descendant of the Dragon of the West and is Red’s best friend. She found Red Son wandering the city one day and allowed him to stay with them until they found a place to work so Red has actually been inside her house before. Throughout his stay, she accidentally vented about her troubles with her parents which Red helped her with and because of that, she is less insecure about her place as descendant of the Dragon of the West. From that point forth, she was more open about her problems. She also obtained the dragon blade relatively early thanks to Red and her parents’ urging.

She, like Red, works for Tang but at his magic business and spends time being Tang’s assistant. Her job is to sometimes collect ingredients and deliver if the client asks. She is more reckless here due to having the dragon blade for years and because of the amount of demons she faced. She is slightly more protective here because of Red since she thinks he doesn’t know how to expertly fight as he hasn’t revealed who he is to her yet.

MK/Qi Xiaotian: Xiaotian is the biological son of Syntax and the only human of the Spider group. After the incident when he was around 12 that resulted in his dad becoming a spider, his life was completely changed and they were taken in by Huntsman and Goliath. Learning of their plan to free the Spider Queen, Syntax offered to help, knowing from Goliath that she would protect his son. They raised him where he turned into a mix of all of them. Since he is Syntax’s son, his father made sure he got the best education and taught him many things because of this, he knows a lot about tech and sometimes uses technology based insults like his dad, the other insults he uses are the more crass ones because of Huntsman. While he knows a lot about tech, he’s bad at practical applications and ends up setting things on fire.

They know how to hunt because of Huntsman and spar with him regularly in an effort to get strong to protect their family. Since they’re the only human, they feel the need to prove themself to the Spider Queen who doesn’t really give them a thought in the beginning as she’s more concerned with returning the spider demons to their former glory. The issue of him as the only human has caused somewhat of a disconnect between him and his father.

He is rather cocky and reckless here because of Huntsman and Syntax who both have massive egos, something that was passed down to him. Although deep down he is a sweetheart thanks to Goliath. He uses the tech insults to insult his rival, Red Son and makes fun of him on a daily basis which is great because Red only slightly knows what those mean. He is still an artist here and was encouraged by his father to pursue his passion, he is also still a slight Monkey King fan because of stories he heard when he was little. While he makes fun of Huntsman for wanting to date his dad, he does want to be able to call him his stepdad one day. He has a staff given to him by his dad when he was around 15 that contains some cool things.

Sun Wukong: takes Tang’s place kinda. Actor and scholar. Sun Wukong in this au is the owner of a theatre that for the most part does JTTW plays, he is also an actor and scholar. He spent about 300-400 years in retirement before finally deciding to enter the world again and do something. He has a rivalry with Macaque since both are scholars and always have academic arguments. He remains king of Flower Fruit Mountain but mainly lives in the city now. He maintains a human form to not attract attention from demons.

Before owning the theatre, he was a big name actor (well still is) that did mostly Monkey King related stuff to honor his past adventures and family. He even directed, starred and wrote stuff for his own movies and tv shows, something he does for the theatre now. He also produced some video games. He used to bring his monkeys on the set sometimes and does that now for his theatre, people have no idea where the monkeys come from. Some joke that he’s gotten really into his role and there are those that call him the “Monkey Actor.”

He carries a good amount of guilt over Tripitaka’s death especially after what Wujing said to him and believes he doesn’t really deserve to be called a hero. He also feels bad that he couldn’t help Wujing and that the incident resulted in the demon closing off. He hides all of this under a confident attitude. He hardly uses his staff anymore but still has it. He’s had off/on contact with Zhu Bajie over the years and misses him and the rest of his family deeply. When they meet up around the time the series starts, the pig informs him that he’s found Wujing but they don’t go talk to him since they know the other doesn’t want them around. Instead, the two hang out again with Wukong absolutely dreading the idea that they’ll lose contact again. Bajie actually introduces him to the kids he sometimes babysits and they eventually begin calling Wukong “yéyé.” He met Tang when he heard a rumor about his magic business and decided to check it out, he stuck around even after finding out the human was harmless because he met Red again, he hasn’t told Red or Tang who he is.

Tang: Tang is surprise, surprise, Tripitaka’s reincarnation. He does get dreams sometimes but he writes them off as fantasies. Compared to his counterpart, he is a lot tougher than his normal counterpart and actually fights. He runs two shops with one that is a secret magic shop (mostly temporary enhancements and minor spells), he’s proficient in both hand to hand combat and magic.

He is slightly more serious in this due to running a business now but not as serious as Pigsy would be. His nerdiness is toned down here but still present. In fact when Red is working, Tang likes to bring up different stories from the past despite the fact that Red knows them already. He gave Red the apartment above the shop and has no idea that the kid he adopted is actually a demon. He is rather annoyed and angry at the fact that Red was chosen by Sha Wujing to be his successor even though he is partially a fan of the demon and totally doesn’t have a celebrity crush on him. While he isn’t aware of everything Red has gone through, he is aware that the kid has had a rough life and wants to protect him.

Zhu Bajie/Pigsy: Zhu Bajie, after years of loneliness, came out of hiding and wandered the mortal world as he needed something to occupy his time. He’s had off/on contact with Wukong throughout the years. Eventually he settled into the city where he’s known as a beloved and involved member of a small part of it. He is seen as an ‘uncle/grandpa figure’ there and is sometimes asked to watch over the kids. The kids absolutely adore him and he in turn adores them. He takes them out a lot to places and spoils the heck out of them. He actually met Wukong again when he took the kids out to see the plays at Wukong’s theatre and enjoys taking them there because he gets to see the king, he’s become a huge fan. He memorized the surrounding mountain range there and partially chose the city as there is a path that leads to Wujing, he hasn’t told Wujing he’s tracked him down. He’s just kept tabs on him, mildly happy with that since he knows his brother doesn’t want to see him.

While he retains his snarkiness here, his temper isn’t as bad here due to not being business focused since he doesn’t own one. He retains his parental instincts here since he’s a grandpa now. He has grown a lot since the JTTW days and is proud of this fact. He is on the more reasonable side of things between Wujing who is unnecessarily angry and Wukong who believes he doesn’t have the right to be considered a hero.

Macaque: Macaque in this au is retired from fighting and does not have much of a grudge against Wukong as he does in canon. Although they do have a rivalry as fellow scholars and constantly complain about each other’s theses suck. They are usually one debate away from fighting each other in the parking lot of Wukong’s theatre.

Demon Bull King: Demon Bull King takes Macaque’s spot as the one who trains and plans to take Red’s powers. After their son became Guanyin’s disciple, the two were extremely worried about their child and held resentment for Sun Wukong and his gang that continued long after the gang defeated him. Princess Iron Fan and him had a falling out that resulted in them parting ways (although still married) but they still love each other very much. DBK heard rumors floating around about someone that had become Sha Wujing’s successor and that someone matched his son’s description. Angered over the fact that his son was forced to become someone’s successor, he found a spell that would take his powers. He crafted a plan to lure his son out to do so so his son could be relieved of that pressure along with protecting him and so he could use that power to take revenge on those around them.

Princess Iron Fan: Princess Iron Fan is the main villain of the Red Sand/Shark au. Due to the loss of her son and the fall out with her husband, Princess Iron Fan has become rather desperate to get her family back and she’ll do it by any means necessary. She has kept herself hidden for years, plotting ways to bring her family together. Once she found out that Red Son became Sha Wujing’s successor, it caused her to lash out as her son was within reach but forced to be what she considered a weapon, a pawn. She took advantage of the blood oath she made, promising the twins that if they joined her, she would make people cower before them. She used them to attack on New Years in the hopes of grabbing her son and taking over the world. While that might have failed, she has other tricks up her sleeve and will make Red join her, no matter what.

Spider Queen: Spider Queen once led a powerful army that threatened to disrupt the mortal realm. She was feared by mortals and respected and loved by her subjects. This ended when she faced Sha Wujing and was actually the last demon Sha Wujing fought before he retired. He decided to seal her, citing her as a danger. Due to her containment, the various spider clans started declining as their royal line had been deposed of. Things have become desperate and it is believed that the Spider Boys are part of the last generation before they are wiped out entirely, although there may be more out there. They have decided to free the Spider Queen as her era was the last time the spiders were prosperous and believe she is the key to saving their future.

Goliath (Strong Spider): Goliath remains a total sweetheart in this au and is one of the reasons Xiaotian contains sweet qualities. He is completely supportive and encouraging of Syntax and Huntsman’s feelings for each other and wishes they would just admit it. He bakes in his spare time and gets help from Xiaotian. He is also the other’s confidant and manages to keep secrets relatively well. He does suggest that they speak about these issues but doesn’t push them.

Huntsman: Huntsman is the same here but has a more fatherly side to him as he’s helped Syntax raise MK and has actually developed feelings for the nerd spider. He taught Xiaotian to be an excellent hunter and spars with him on a regular basis. He cheers the kid on during fights unless he has to do something like go save him for a reckless endeavor. He doesn’t admit how much the kid and the others mean to him often but will slip up and admit it. He and Syntax have snarky banter with each other and have a trusting relationship that neither acknowledges.

Syntax: Syntax is the biological and single father of Xiaotian. He was a relatively hardworking and great father that taught Xiaotian to make different things, gave him the best education he could and encouraged him in art endeavors. He was turned into a spider by a horrific lab accident when his son was around twelve. Resentment, horror and terror piled up in him because of that incident. He had absolutely no idea what to do, he was a human turned spider all because of what happened, there is a possibility that no one was going to treat him the same after this, people would assume he had malicious intent and might try to separate him from his son. After that, he spent a good portion trying to return himself back to normal but no matter what he did he could not. Afraid for the safety of him and his son, Syntax began to research the spiders, learning they were almost gone but there may be some out there. He took Xiaotian with him where they bumped into Huntsman and Goliath who were trying to find ways to bring the Spider Queen back. He joined them as Goliath had assured the queen would offer them protection. Along the way, he had come to see them less as allies and more as family, not that he would admit it. He began falling in love with Huntsman after getting to know him for years and seeing deeper sides of him. When Xiaotian was around 15, he crafted a sci fi tech staff for his son which contains some tricks and traps, including a GPS that can be used for when his son is in trouble.

Yin and Jin: Yin and Jin take Spider Queen’s place here. They trapped Red in the calabash just like they did with canon MK and after that incident, they continued popping up with a variety of plans, most that have failed. Red eventually stopped taking them seriously and treated them more as nuisances than real threats. In an effort to be taken more seriously they created a partnership between them and PIF. They shook with excitement at New Years when they began to topple people around them, this died down when the plan didn’t work but they continued to listen to PIF’s instructions, little do they know she’s just using them to get her son back.

White Bone Spirit and Mayor: These two are nowhere near as dangerous as they are in canon and actually replace Yin and Jin as the comic relief although the Mayor is still slightly creepy. WBS probably has a much older host or has shapeshifted to give herself a human form. She tries to get revenge for her defeat at the hands of Sun Wukong and since Red is the closest thing she messes with him instead. She believes she is a powerful antagonist but is more of the average shape-shifting demon and the Mayor serves as her minion. They come up with schemes similar to Yin and Jin but unlike Yin and Jin don’t ever come up with a way to be taken more seriously.

[leeus-writing]

Post Nibelheim Sephiroth x reader. He falls in love, courts her, gets her to make love to him, he wants her to be his goddess/queen, then she finds out she is expecting. NSFW is okay. You are a awesome writer! 😊

Hi

Sorry, this is so late!

Goddess now has a full Fan fic here on Ao3

Goddess 

Sephiroth coughed as he pulled himself free from the Mako stream. The cave around him echoed with the sound of his panting. His side burning with pain. That dammed kid had almost sliced him in two! Reaching round into his pockets he pulled free some cure Materia and started to heal his wounds. His mother’s head was gone. Jenova… Had he failed her? No! He would do as his mother wishes. He was, after all, a God!

He grunted as the cure Materia worked through his body, he wouldn’t last long, he knew that. And He couldn’t do this mission alone.

“Hello?”

Sephiroth looked around and saw a woman standing in the entrance of the cave. Wrapped up in warm clothing. He hadn’t realised that outside the cave was snow.

“Where am I?”

“Near the icicle inn… are you alright?” You asked concerned.

The guy looked to have travelled through the Mako stream… somehow! His eyes though, they scared you. His whole being seemed to scare you and how was he alive. He got to his feet, slowly cloths dripping Mako, staggering towards you.

You step away, a little and he frowns, “Sorry… your clothing is covered in Mako. We… We need to get you cleaned up. Please follow me, I have a cabin not to far from here,” you say to him “My name is Y/N.”

“I’m Sephiroth…”

Such an unusual name, it seemed to ring a bell in your mind, but you pushed it aside.

Once you got him home, you grabbed some of your father's old clothes. The cabin had been your family home, but since your father passed away it was yours.

“I hope they fit… Umm put your old clothes in this bag, I’ll burn them if … I can. Have a shower to wash the rest off and out of your hair,” you say to Sephiroth.

Sephiroth nods and takes the clothing you pass to him. An hour later and he returned in the turtleneck jumper and jeans. Passing the bag over. You bung it in the fire hoping it would burn.

“Y/N… have you been here long?” Sephiroth asks stepping closer.

He’d been studying you from afar. Making his mind up, he needed help but from who. And who better than his Goddess. You’d shown kindness to him, seemed to not care that he’d appeared from nowhere. He would test what kind of candidate you were.

“Oh… not long, I moved in after my father died. I’m just cleaning the place up. Might sell it, I don’t know,” you say prodding the bag with a poker, “You hungry? I have a stew on the boil.”

You sit across from the strange silver man watching him as he ate. He seemed so… civilized. Men in the pubs in the village tended to just eat with ferocity. You put your spoon down and lean forward.

“Where are you from?” you ask.

He looks at you in slight surprise “Oh… nowhere really, Nibelheim I guess but, in this cosmos, I don’t tend to say I belong in one particular place.”

“Oh, that sounds lovely, to travel around not really belong to one particular place,” you say leaning on your hand.

Sephiroth looked up from his food and captured your gaze with his, “Join me. A traveller can lose himself when alone.”

“Sephiroth, we hardly know each other…”

“Well, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get to know you better.”

Sephiroth spent the next few weeks around your cabin, helping you reorganise, pack old things away and redecorate. He was the perfect Guest. On occasions he even cooked, however, he wasn’t very good. But not wanting to hurt his feelings you said it was amazing.

Evenings were spent together by the fire, talking about the past. He spoke about his travelling plans and the more you listened, the more you wanted to go with him. Sephiroth kissed you one evening, you kissed him back holding him close.

That kissing eventually lead to more, he was so expert. You lay in front of the fire, Sephiroth in between your legs, making you feel so full. He stroked your hair so softly, eyes watching yours, your every moan and gasp with each thrust into you. You both came together. He was yours and you were his from that night on. You decided to go with him.

“Perfect my queen… my goddess,” he whispered when you told him.

The words sent shivers down your spine.

I

Weeks passed with you and Sephiroth wrapped in each other’s embrace. One evening you told him you needed to go out, just quickly to grab some supplies. You’d missed your monthly and needed to check… During your time in the village, you decided to nip into the Pub as you hadn’t been in there since you found Sephiroth. Everyone was watching the TV. The bottom dropped out of your stomach. Sephiroth’s image was on the screen. 1st Class SOLDIER Dead.

“Such a shame, that freak was hand-engineered by Shinra…” you heard someone say.

Shinra 1st Class SOLDIER! Did you even know the guy living with you! You hurried home and found Sephiroth sitting at the kitchen table Smiling. 

“Is everything alright my queen?” he asked.

He had been saying that a lot recently.

“Yes…” you say hesitantly, you decided to approach him about it that evening, for now, you had to check if you were pregnant.

Pregnant… Positive

Panic, joy, fear rushed through your body. You’d got pregnant with a man you’d found two months ago. How could you have been so stupid! Sephiroth knocked on the door and you let him in. He looked down at your test and a strange grin spread over his face. He pulled you into his arms.

“Perfect, my Goddess… This is perfect, the three of us together Gods of this world… Traveling together…” He kissed your neck and a cold chill spread down your spine.

You had to leave… you had to leave him…

I

In the early hours of the morning, Sephiroth woke to find the bed beside him empty. He got up and walked downstairs looking for you, finding the note on the kitchen table.

Sephiroth… I’ve left… I found out who you were, you lied to me… please don’t come to find me or the Baby

Y/N

Anger spread over Sephiroth’s face. He gript the note and growled, you would not get away that easily….

I

Ao3

[indigosabyss]

Jaded

Izuku didn’t know when it started exactly. He supposed it might have been when he first got his own laptop, when he was twelve years old. In the years before this, his mom usually made sure that he didn’t get sucked into forums for hours on end, but once he got his laptop, he was almost immediately sucked into the rabbit hole of hero forums and discussions. Sure, Bakugo might bully him in school, and all the teachers would turn a blind eye, and every person who knew that he was quirkless treated him like he had been given a death sentence or something, but on the forums, no one knew him, and no one could tell that he was quirkless. His voice mattered.

Well, it mattered just as much as every other faceless voice on the internet, but that was at least more than you could say about his actual life. Until, one day, he found himself looking at a news clipping on one of these forums.

Middle School Mass Murderer Still At Large

Tragedy struck as a middle school in Yokohama that we are not allowed to name because of privacy laws. A dozen students was found locked in a janitor’s office, with stab wounds covering them. At least half of those students succumbed to the wounds, while the remaining students are in critical condition.

According to the statement of one of the victims, they had been led there by a classmate, who had also been found dead in the office, and furthermore, had already decayed more than the other casualties when the kids were found that same day. Of course, the traumatizing circumstances make the statement somewhat untrustworthy, but with this just following an incident a few blocks away, at a school which had a seemingly healthy and bright student allegedly kill a fellow student, is sparking worry that there is a mysterious villain in the shadows, with a Quirk that is manipulating these poor children to butcher each other.

All citizens are firmly advised to stay safe, and all middle school students should be on high alert. If you think anything is off, or have suspicions about the identity of this atrocious criminal, do not hesitate to contact the local heroics agency.

Pictured below are the innocent children who’s lives were taken far too young, just hours before the tragedy.

Izuku stared at the pictures of several students, smiling happily at the camera, and some candid shots too.

There was fervent debate below the post, discussing who exactly could’ve done such a thing, and how it was possible. It all seemed redundant to Izuku.

Couldn’t they see? The killer was right in front of them. Everything lined up so well.

Of course, he could be wrong though, it would be just like a Quirkless Deku like him to be barking up the completely wrong tree, but a quick Google searches later, and he didn’t think that that’s what it was. It just seemed so crystal clear for it to be wrong.

So, he through his hat into the ring, and dove into the comments.

MightyGreenBoy217: It’s pretty obvious that it was the girl who killed her classmate from a couple schools away.

IceQueen: Umm… proof?

MightyGreenBoy217: I looked up her case, and it has slightly more information. Her name is Himiko Toga, and her Quirk has to do with blood, considering the fact that she was seen drinking the blood of the victim. Her Quirk is not public as she is still a minor, but taking into account that both of her parents have somewhat shapeshifting-based Quirks, it would be prudent to assume it’s the same for her. Remember that there is eye witness testimony of a girl who should’ve been dead before the incident took place, leading them to the scene of the crime.

Furthermore, the idea of a Quirk unlocking violent tendencies in the minds of other people, while plausible, doesn’t seem to match anything I can find in the database. It could be a form of brainwashing, but it seems unlikely, since there were no suspicious figures loitering about the school according to reports from other newspapers.

Plus, if you look into the backdrop of the pictures we’re shown, you can actually see Himiko Toga standing there in the corner. Plus, I got super curious, and started thinking about motive, because no one would do anything without a motive, and I found out that one of the children pictured here was also in a picture in another article, about the Himiko Toga incident. I dug into it, because I was super curious, and it turns out that one of the victims was actually a former friend of Himiko Toga’s, who had actually been the one to report her to the authorities, so it’s safe to assume that she did this for revenge.

He released a breath as he tapped the Enter button. He’d gone on for a bit too long, but he needed to cram all his information in it so they might just follow where he was coming from, just in case it turned out that he was wrong.

He bit his lip and waiting for someone or the other to respond.

Meteoric-iron: Holy shit…. You got that from some news articles?!

MightyGreenBoy217: Yeah, I did. Why, you think I'm off the mark??

IceQueen: Wow... That's a lot of evidence. It's nowhere near enough proof though. But you gotta admit the coincidences are a bit too perfect.

Yeah, that was all it was, just a massive coincidence he was looking too deep into.

He ended up putting his laptop away when his mother called him out for dinner, and didn't think about that incident again.

Until that is, a couple days later when the user called Meteoric-iron sent him a DM.

Meteoric-iron: ARE YOU A PSYCHIC OR SOMETHING?!

Along with that, there was a link to an article, that Izuku hesitantly clicked on.

Middle School Murderer Identified

The culprit of the slew of deaths happening in middle schools in one corner of the Yokohama Prefecture has been identified as one Himiko Toga, aged 14.

Police were able to connect the dots when someone brought up the fact that a person with great resemblance to Himiko Toga was found in pictures taken on the same day as the attack. Further investigation revealed her saliva was found on the scene, and usage of her Quirk seemed to be the reason behind the conflicting sequence of events.

The local authorities admit that it might have been solved quicker, and the villain might have been apprehended, if they had had a more competent analyst, since Quirk Records of children are not disclosable to anyone without good reason.

He stared at the article, hardly daring to believe it. He actually got it right? But how?

He typed back to the person.

MightyGreenBoy217: Haha, nothing that cool. It was just a hunch. Glad I was right tho!

Meteoric-iron: That is so crazy. You got to the bottom of it in… what? A couple hours? And it took the police several days. You a hero or something?

MightyGreenBoy217: Oh, nothing like that! I just like quirks and stuff. It just clicked when I saw the pieces laid out.

Meteoric-iron: Huh… you should be a QA. Bet everyone will fall over their feet for someone that good.

Izuku felt like scoffing. Yeah, right, like anyone would want some of his crappy analyses.

But... Well, this person wasn't the first person to say that. It couldn't hurt to try.

That night, he looked over the profile of his new analyst account on the quirk discussion forum he'd been a part of for a while.

Everything was there, from his fees per commission (Nothing; he didn't want to make someone pay for his work when they didn't know how poor quality it was), to any restrictions he had, (nothing about lethal spots, especially for heroes; he'd heard enough horror stories about villains approaching analysts to get them to help kill a hero)

All that remained was a name. What could he do?

He tapped his chin as he tried to think. What was special about him?

Considering how he was always being told how plain looking he was, there wasn't a lot.

He was Quirkless, but that wasn't something he wanted to be known for. No way someone would trust him with a quirk after that.

He ran a hand through his hair, before freezing. Wait, he had green hair. Wasn't there some English word for the color green? What was it? Jared? Jaded?

Yeah, jaded, that was probably it.

Just to be sure, he Googled it.

Turns out, it did not mean green. It meant exhausted. What was the word he was looking for?

As he thought it over, his eyes drifted over the definition again. Huh, oddly, it seemed fitting to him.

It was an impulsive choice, but he typed it in quickly.

Jaded_qa.

He didn't have time to overthink it, as he pressed Enter before he could start to back down.

And just like that, it was done.

He didn't know it then, but his life was about to get a whole lot crazier.

[musings-from-mars]

More sugar rush striker au?

((I know this took forever to answer and I apology

If you don’t follow the sportball I am sorry for writing about soccer. If you do follow the sportball I am sorry for calling it soccer shfgjk))

~~~

There are a lot of cursed numbers in the world that evoke negative emotions. 13 is a common candidate, 666 if you’re particularly concerned about demons, 69 and 420 have their internet infamy. But for Nora, those could not possibly compare to the pure, distilled wrath she felt in her heart for a particular sequence of numbers that had been parroted by Coach Ozpin all practice:

5-4-1.

So, she could understand it a little bit. The current varsity team was basically overflowing with defenders, though none of them were particularly good, so, yeah, put an extra center-back out there. But...one forward? Just one?

For context, in seasons past, the Beacon High School Varsity Soccer Team would field a good ol’ 4-4-2: four defenders, four midfielders, and two forwards. For the previous two years, those two forwards had been Nora, and her teammate Ruby Rose. They got along just fine, not too concerned about one another since neither of them were ever in any danger of losing their status as starters. No one at Beacon was as fast or as skilled as them with the ball at their feet, and if Nora had to guess, 9 out of every 10 goals the team ever scored were either hers or Ruby’s. They did not exactly get along with each other, but if they were getting playing time and opportunities to score, they could be tolerant of one another.

But now, with this ingenious new formation Oz was implementing, that meant only one of them could start, while the other would spend most of the match sitting on the bench with the other substitutes. The thought of having to do that made Nora’s blood boil, and so there was only one option—outdo Ruby in every way imaginable. Stay late after practice, practice twice as much on the weekends, and get in Oz’s ear about making her the starter every week.

But she knew Ruby would be doing the same. If she knew anything about her, it was how determined she was to be the best. And yes, that meant being better than Nora. Especially better than Nora.

She was fine with that, of course. That would only motivate her even more.

“If we scored a goal, I scored it. If I didn’t score it, I assisted it. If I didn’t assist it, we never scored in the first place.”

Nora really wasn’t surprised to see Ruby here too. Of course she was going to start training after school twice as often, just like she was. Once Nora returned from refilling her water bottle at the water fountain down the hall, she reentered the locker room to see Ruby still in her practice attire. She wore a dark red shirt and white shorts, red socks over shinguards and bright red boots. Her medium length black-and-red hair was held back by a thin headband. She passed by Nora, leaving the locker room just as she was entering. She exchanged a look with her, but said nothing. The tension was so thick Nora could practically feel it lingering in the air around her. Fair enough, she thought. They didn’t need to talk to know what was going on—they were teammates, sure, but now they were rivals, two star players fighting for one starting spot.

It was an overcast and cool afternoon, and it would probably rain soon. Nora had no intentions of letting that stop her, though. They don’t call off matches for rain, so why should she call off practice? She was working on set pieces, setting up the yellow metal free kick dummies side-by-side to serve as a wall of defenders. Her and Ruby often split free kicking duties whenever a foul was called during games. It was a perfect starting point for trying to outdo her.

After she got the dummies set up, she looked across he field to the other end. She saw Ruby doing a dribbling course, orange cones strewn about. She moved so quick and precisely, and the ball followed her like it was magnetically attracted to her feet. She turned corners, doubled back, turned toward her goal and struck the ball. It bounced off the crossbar and rocketed up into the air. Ruby watched it reach it’s apex, and as it fell back down toward her, she leapt up, twisted herself in the air, and swung her upper body sideways, striking the ball with her forehead. Right into the inner side netting of the goal. A goalkeeper would’ve been helpless to save such a perfect header.

Ruby landed, and stood with her hands on her hips, as if admiring her work. Then she turned and looked over her shoulder towards Nora.

Nora realized then that she’d been staring for a while, and she looked away quickly, trying to act natural as she paced away from her own goal to practice her free kicks. Her face burned despite the cool faint mist that had begun to blow through the air as the storm clouds drew closer.

Nora thought back to when she was a kid, how she’d watch pro soccer on TV no matter who was playing. She could remember always picking out a player and watching them the entire match. Even if they were nowhere near the ball, if they were on screen, Nora watched them, studied the way they’d pick and choose their positioning, their pace, their runs. One day, she watched a women’s club match. She couldn’t remember anything about it, who the teams were or how significant the match was, except for the way the match ended. It was in the 90th minute, score tied at 2 all, and the player she’d been watching the entire time stood in the penalty box as a teammate took a corner kick, sent the ball her way, and she seemed to soar through the air like a superhero, literally head-and-shoulders above everyone else near her. She headed the ball with such force and accuracy that it shot into the upper corner of the goal. The goalkeeper didn’t even move, because the goal was practically scored the moment the star striker touched it.

To this day, Nora didn’t know who that player was. She had been seven years old at the time and didn’t get the chance to catch her name. But even all this time later, that one goal inspired her. Of the thousands of goals pro players score around the world every year, that single one was the reason why Nora was here on this pitch today. For that reason, she simply started calling it The Goal. It was that important to her.

And as she lined up to take her first practice free kick, she froze. She looked back over towards Ruby, who had resumed her dribbling drills.

When Ruby had headed the ball just now, it looked eerily similar to The Goal. Nora remembered, the woman who’d scored The Goal had black hair, her shirt was red. Nora was certain that she even wore a thin headband like Ruby’s.

Ruby had unknowingly recreated the singular formative moment of Nora’s football fanaticism, practically alone on a high school field. Like it was nothing. For no one to see…but her.

Nora hated this feeling, and she knew it all too well. Who was she kidding? Ruby had always been better, she’d always been the ace. And Nora knew this, because how could she be better than someone that she couldn’t help but look up to?

She shook her head and gritted herself, feebly trying to focus back on her training. She approached the ball set in front of her and struck it.

It bounced off a yellow dummy’s chest and rolled right back to her feet.

“…Fuck.”

~~~

Introducing the Sugar Rush Striker AU