#shitty drawing cus I don’t feel good enough to draw a good one

[sliceocheese]

artistic rendering of a game of four square I played at school earlier:

[narrycherries]

we’ll be alright

Harry battles an exhausting mental disorder and the only thing that helps him is you, but even sometimes you aren’t enough..

masterlist // join the tag list

word count: 2.9k

warnings: harry x reader, mention of mental disorder, bipolar depression, mature situation, fluff, smut implied, needy h

The weather was gloomy again. A heavy thunderstorm was falling from the sky. The dark clouds were thick and the lightning was bright as it snapped every few seconds. A weighted sigh slipped out of your mouth as you closed the curtain, not wanting to be reminded of it. You hated this sort of weather because it was just another thing for him to be sad about. As a remedy, you always would take him for walks under the sunshine, and force him to make shapes out of the fluffy white clouds. He would pick any small wildflowers he came across and give them to you, knowing that you loved flowers. The sun made him happy, just enough to be noticeable at least. But there hasn’t been any sunshine in four days. It’s been overcast and storming non stop.

Your heart skipped a beat when you shut the bedroom door and turned to look in his direction. He was sitting in the chair that he moved to face the window. You didn’t want him watching the rain, but it was too late to stop him. There was no telling how long he was like that.

He breathed out heavily as you came behind him, gentle hands resting on his shoulders. Harry suffered with bipolar disorder, the true manic and depressive stages. It was heartbreaking every time he had to face this. You wished you could force it away.

Despite the struggles he had, he never once neglected you or made you feel guilty. If anything, he was the one who was guilty. He hated that you waited on him, and that you took such good care of him. Of course he’s grateful, he’ll never under appreciate you. But it’s a challenge, he should be taking care of you.

You smiled softly when he reached up and grabbed your wrist. He gave you a tug, silently wanting you to move in front of him. So you do, with no hesitation. He tilts his head back, dull eyes looking into yours. You could easily see the depressive episode in his eyes.

“I missed you.” He mumbled as he grabbed your waist.

“I missed you..” You whispered back, hand pressing against his warm cheek.

He guided you onto his lap, wanting to have you all to himself. He needed to be close to you, needed to feel you. You chuckled faintly as he wrapped his arms around your body and pushed the side of his face against your chest - squeezing you tight. You were like medicine to him, it only worked for a while..

“How are we feeling?” You asked in a voice that was barely audible.

He groaned. “Shitty.”

A smile spread over your lips as you thought about how to fix it. You put your hand on his nape, holding his face against you, and let the other one run through his hair. He hummed as your nails scratched his scalp. He was having a bad headache, and he liked the release of pressure.

“Do you want me to draw up a warm bath, honey?”

He nodded, strong arms gently moving you from side to side. “Wan’ you to get in.”

“I will.” You assured him, lips pressing a few kisses to his hairline.

“M’sorry.”

You were unsure as to why he said that, and when you tugged on his hair to pull his face out of your chest, you immediately matched his frown. “For what, baby?”

He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting you to see the sadness. “Cus.. m’always.. ruinin’ everythin’.. you should’ve went with your friend.”

You huffed. “Harry.. I’d much rather be here with you, my love.”

“Baby.” His eyes slowly peeled open, and your heart dropped as you watched a few tears come down his cheeks.

“Harry, please don’t get upset.” You pressed a hand to his cheek and used your thumb to rub the tears away.

“I h-have t-to be upset.” He stammered, eyes shifting to stare at your neck. He was too embarrassed to look you in the eye. “You’re al-always.. havin’ to take care of me.. like a fuckin’ child.”

“I take care of you because you get better when I do.” You wrapped your fingers around his hair, not pulling too hard just in case he had a headache like usual. “And you feel better when I’m with you, don’t you? Why would I want to leave and make you feel worse?”

“You always make me feel better..” He mumbled, eyes closing again.

“No, no. Look at me, honey.”

He frowned, shaking his head against your wishes.

“Harry, look at me.. now.”

He never wanted to upset you, so he quickly moved his eyes back to you. “Baby.. m’sorry.”

A sigh came from you, it was heavier than you thought it would be. “Stop apologizing. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“But-“

“Shhh.” Your thumb finger pressed against his lips, keeping them closed. “I’ll go get the bath ready.. wan’ bubbles?” He nodded lightly, making you smile a tad. “Stay here.. I’ll be back.”

You kissed his forehead a few soft times before pinching his warm cheek and hopping off his lap. He wanted you to stay on him and never leave, but he knew the bath would be relaxing for you both.

It pained you to leave him all alone. Despite how he can be at times, he hated being alone. No matter how difficult the depression became, he never wanted to be all alone. He needed you, and wanted you at all times. Even though he hated to feel like a burden, he always wanted you with him. It was easier to walk away this time because the end result would be better. You will be with him, and everything will be fine.

You made sure to cut on the hot water, knowing how much he liked a flaming bath. You poured the bubble bath soap into the water and watched quietly as the bubbles formed on the water's surface. It smelt like strawberries, and added a soft pink tint to the water. He never reminded the color of the water or the scent of the soap - as long as you were with him, nothing else mattered.

Once the tub was filled to the desired amount, you cut off the water and draped the washcloth over the edge. You placed two towels on the rack before walking back to the bedroom. Harry hadn’t moved at all, which didn’t shock you. He looked over when he heard your feet shuffle on the carpet. You smiled and held your hand out. He stood up and gladly closed the distance between you. His big hand engulfed yours and he pulled you close, his arm sliding around you.

“Thank you.” He muttered quietly.

You pecked the corner of his mouth, the tip of your toes digging into the carpet to push you up. “Don’t thank me, baby.”

The smile slowly growing on his pink lips made your heart melt, a nice warmth filled your body. “Can I.. undress you?”

“Of course.. you don’t have to ask.” You gave him a wink and he chuckled. The sound truly made you smile, maybe he was reaching the end of this very long depressive episode. Despite the joy of the assumption, you feared what would come next. “C’mon.”

You drug him to the bathroom and close to the hamper, hoping the clothes you were both dressed in would end up there - though, that was doubtful.

“You look comfy.. What did you do while I was sleeping?” Harry asked as he messed with the hem of the big tshirt. You liked to wear loose things while at home. “Didn’t work yourself t’death.. did you?”

You smirked at his words. “No.. I cleaned the kitchen.. and I worked on that puzzle we started last week.. didn’t get far.. Mom called me.. we talked for a while.”

“I promise..” Harry slid his hand under your shirt and on to your waist, his brows furrowed as he spoke. “.. that I’ll do all the cleaning.. as soon as I can.. you won’t have to lift a little finger, angel.”

You licked your lips and put your hands on either side of his neck. “You’re the sweetest, you know.”

He lifted the right corner of his mouth higher than the left, displaying the cute dimple in his cheek. “You’re the sweetest thing on this earth.” Your eyes rolled and he grinned a bit bigger, leaning down to kiss the corner of your eye. “You’re my sweet, beautiful, incredible, stunning girl.”

You rubbed the end of your nose against his and let your lips gently brush his chin as you moved your head. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“I dunno about that.” You bit your lip in attempt to push down your laugh but it slipped out anyways.

He hummed as your fingers worked to untie the strings of his sweatpants. You hadn’t seen him completely naked in a handful of days and you were dying to touch his warm skin. Sometimes he forgot to take off his clothes when he slept, especially during the bad days.

“M’sorry I’ve been distant.. I know you hate it.” He swallowed harshly as you gave the pants a gentle tug. They pooled around his ankles and he stepped out of them.

“You have your reasons.. and I don’t hate it.”

He softly grabbed your chin between two fingers and lifted your head up. “You mean absolutely everything to me.. I love you more than anyone could love anyone else.. I’m nothing without you.. I love you, okay? Please.. don’t ever forget that.”

You smiled sweetly and wrapped your arms around his torso. “I won’t. And I love you. You’re my favorite thing.”

He faintly smiled back, but you noticed it was indeed faint. He had always struggled with accepting the idea that he was enough for you. He constantly insisted that you deserved better, despite knowing he’d crumble away and die if you ever left his side.

“I miss you.. miss seeing you..” He mumbled while pulling your shirt up your body. You hold your arms up and let him take it all the way off. “You’re so perfect.”

His big hands grabbed your waist and guided you close. You decided to carry on, so you grabbed his shirt and he chuckled as he helped you take it off. As soon as his stomach was bare, you began to rub your hands down his abdomen. He smirked as he watched your lustful eyes stare at his skin.

“I missed you more.”

Harry gently touched your jaw, letting his thumb rub over your skin. “I shouldn’t neglect you.. should be worshipping your body every night.. every morning..”

You blushed hard and gave him a soft laugh. “Worship is a little intense, yeah?”

“No..” he kissed your forehead. “You deserve the praise.”

A breath hitched in your throat as his hands slid behind you to unclasp your bra. “The water’s gonna get cold.”

He smirked softly and dropped your bra to the floor. “We’re almost done.”

Despite how cheeky he was being with you, the sad demeanor didn’t go away. You could see it in his eyes, in the shape his lips made when he relaxed them, and even in his posture. You gave him a warm smile before removing your underwear. You wanted to speed up the process. He followed your actions, a little disappointed that he couldn’t do it for you.

“Do you want me in front or behind?” You asked with one foot submerged into the warm water.

He thought for a quick moment. “Behind.”

You nodded softly, glad that he chose that. It was always something you loved to do - holding him and making him feel safe. The comfort always made him relax, and you wanted nothing more than for him to feel better.

Harry didn’t say anything else as he watched you sink into the bath. He got in once you were situated and he sighed heavily as he leaned against your welcoming body. Your arms gladly slid around his torso, hands on his chest and stomach. His muscles were aching, and he was tense in places. You rubbed small circles into his skin as you waited patiently and quietly for him to say or do something. Sometimes you talked about your day because he was curious, other times you didn’t talk to each other at all. You always let him decide.

“S’nice.” He mumbled while picking up your hand.

You felt a warmth grow inside of your chest as he slotted his fingers with yours. “Mhm.. really warm.”

He let his body move in the water until his head laid against your shoulder and collar bone. Your back was pressed into the tub, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Harry sighed in relief as you brought your unoccupied hand up to his head to rub his scalp.

“Are the days getting better or worse?” You kept your voice soft.

He shrugged. “Hard to tell when.. when one day ends and another starts.”

You gulped quietly, hating that he constantly has to feel this way. “I’m sorry.. I wish I could help you.”

“You do help.” He huffed.

Even though he couldn’t see it, you rolled your eyes. “I wish I could change it.. I would change it and fix everything if I could.”

“Well you can’t.”

“Harry-“

“You help me more than you’ll ever know, baby.” Harry never once let you think you were useless. He’s never allowed you to take any blame. “M’not.. fixable. Every little thing you do for me helps.”

Your nails scratched at his scalp, but no words came from your mouth. A feeling of guilt was bubbling in your stomach. You would do anything to make him better, absolutely anything. He was aware of that, of course. He knew how much you loved him and how bad you desired to help him get better - but there was simply no getting better.. nothing could change.

“I don’t wan’ you t’ever think.. that i don’t love and appreciate everything you do, baby.” His voice wasn’t very loud as he spoke, but the tight grip he had on your hand assured you that he was being serious. “You make life worth living.. without you I have no reason to be alive.. no reason to be anything.”

“I love you, Harry.” You kissed his temple, your lips lingering on his skin. “I love you.”

He squeezed your hand. “I love you.”

A soft smile came to your lips as he shifted his head to press his mouth on yours. The kiss was soft and pure, nothing sloppy. You adored it, so you gave him another. He smiled back, and you felt complete. All you wanted was for him to smile.

“M’so glad I married you.” He said in a whisper as he ran his finger over the diamonds on your ring.

You chuckled lightly. “I’m glad you married me, too.”

He smiled. You absolutely loved his pretty smile.

•••

“You’re warm.” He muttered as you pulled the covers up to your shoulders.

“Someone’s being a cuddly bunny.” You chuckled as he nuzzled his face in your chest and wrapped his arms around your hips.

“Miss you.. love you.. so much.”

You ran your fingers through his slightly damp hair. “I love you, too, honey.”

“You’re m’ baby.”

“Always.” You smiled, wishing you could peck his pretty lips.

“Baby doll.. can I tell you some’?”

You hummed back, eyes closing as you began to feel very sleepy. His voice kept you alert though. He cleared his throat and gently kissed your covered breast. A heat rose to your skin as he stuffed his face further into your chest.

“‘Member we talked about babies?... I wanna have a baby..”

Your heart fluttered at the mention of a baby - a topic you’ve talked about a lot. You gulped quietly and moved your hand down to his cheek. You rubbed the corner of his mouth as you processed his words.

“A baby?.. You said you.. weren’t ready before..”

“M’ready now.. M’not gonna get any better.. so there’s no point in waiting for me to.. besides..” he lifted his head up, eyes finding yours in the dim bedroom light. “..I wanna have a family with you.”

“If that’s what you want, babe, then.. okay.” You smiled brightly as he suddenly flipped you over onto your back and got above you.

“I love you.” He quickly kissed your lips. “I want to have a baby with you.. and another.. and another.”

You giggled softly as his hair tickled your face, his lips sucking on your neck. “I assume you want to start now?”

He smirked against your warm skin. “If that’s okay.”

“That’s perfectly okay.”

His hand squeezed as much of your hip as he could as his lips pecked up your jaw. He reached your lips and plopped a few kisses down. “I love you.”

“Will you.. be able to? Sometimes you.. you can’t-“

He sighed. “I can now. I want you.. need you so bad.”

[whumpdoyoumean]

Whumptober #7

xxx my spidey-sense is tingling

It’s stupid, really. Would have been hilarious, in another life--Juno trying to surprise Nureyev with a hug while he’s brushing his teeth, except the quarters are tight on a ship and Juno takes an elbow directly to the eye. It’s like something out of an old romantic comedy. Only Juno’s just got the one good eye, so instead of Nureyev apologizing with a steamy kiss that leads to them ripping each other’s clothes off before the screen cuts to black, he’s apologizing and trying not to absolutely panic.

“I am so sorry Juno! Move your hand, please, let me take a look!”

“It’s--it’s fine Ransom, I shouldn’t’ve snuck up on you like that,” Juno says, waving the hand that isn’t cupped over his left eye in Nureyev’s general direction. “I’m okay!”

“Let me see!” Nureyev wraps his fingers around Juno’s wrist and gently tugs it down and away from his face. The man’s eye is squeezed shut tight and watering. “Open,” Nureyev commands, voice gentle but leaving no room for argument.

Juno sighs and pries his eye open with a groan, blinking rapidly a few times before he can keep it open enough for Nureyev to get a decent look. He draws in a sharp breath.

“What?” Juno asks, frowning. His words get faster as he keeps speaking, voice rising in pitch. “You’re--you’re kinda blurry--really blurry-- but I think it’s just ‘cus my eye is watering and I can’t see your expression very well but you gasped, why did you gasp is something wrong?”

Something is definitely wrong.

Juno’s eye is bloodshot, and the bottom part of his iris, until just below the pupil, is blood red.

“...Nureyev?” Juno whispers the name. He’s scared.

“It’s--” Nureyev clears his throat and smiles, trying to project calm. “I’m sure you’re right, darling, and everything is fine, but let’s get you to Vespa just in case.”

“You know, for someone who lies for a living you can be a really shitty liar.”

Nureyev puts his hands on both sides of Juno’s face and plants a kiss on his forehead. “Just in case, Juno. Come!” He hooks his arm through Juno’s and guides him out the door. “Is your vision getting any better?”

“N-no, I...I think it’s getting worse. Ransom, it’s getting worse!”

Nureyev’s chest tightens, heart rate picking up and he feels sick to stomach. If something were to happen--if Juno can’t see any more because of him…He shoves the thought down. It’s not going to happen.

It can’t.

“Hang on, dearest.” They get closer to Vespa’s quarters and Nureyev raises his voice. “Vespa! Are you up?”

Her door opens a second later and she pokes her head out and glares. “Of course I am...What’s wrong with Steel?”

“His eye, erm--well, I--”

“It was an accident,” Juno says, and Vespa’s lip curls.

“I don’t even want to know.” She shakes her head in disgust. “Isn’t it early, even for you two?”

“It’s five’o’clock somewhere,” Juno says dryly.

“Juno!” He looks at Vespa with an apologetic smile. “He’s having trouble seeing out of that eye, could you take a look please?”

She makes an irritated sound in the back of her throat and narrows her eyes at him before she finally answers. “Go down to the infirmary, I’ll be there in a minute. Nuisances.” She’s grumbling more insults as she closes the door.

They start down the hall, Nureyev keeping a tight grip on Juno’s arm as they navigate the narrow corridors. It’s somewhat slow work, with Juno moving uncertainly at an awkward shuffle, even with Nureyev guiding him. They make it to the infirmary and Nureyev flips on the lights then helps Juno get settled on the exam table. He sits right on the edge, feet dangling above the ground.

“It’s okay,” he says suddenly, and Nureyev frowns.

“What is, darling?”

“If...If it’s bad. I don’t want you to blame yourself.”

A lump rises in Nureyev’s throat and he swallows hard. “Juno…”

“No, I mean it, N--Ransom. I mean it. Guilt like that...It doesn’t matter how much you love someone, that kind of guilt has a way of fucking things up and I don’t want that to happen to us.”

Nureyev pulls Juno to his chest and holds on tight. “Of course that isn’t going to happen,” he murmurs into the dark curls he’s come to love so much. “It’ll be alright.”

“This is my infirmary, not your bedroom.” They startle at Vespa’s voice, awkwardly disentangling themselves from one another. “Alright, let me take a look…”

Nureyev watches from the corner, chewing on his thumbnail as she pries Juno’s eye open and shines a small flashlight, humming to herself as she does. “Can you see?”

“Barely. Everything’s cloudy.”

“Does it hurt?”

“A little. Worse in the light.”

She hums again. “You’ve got hyphema.”

“Which means…?”

Nureyev is frozen in nervous anticipation, trying to brace himself for what Vespa is going to say next, willing himself to be at peace with the diagnosis and with whatever it means for Juno.

“You’ve got some bleeding in your eye, and pressure.”

Juno nods, face falling.

“You’re not dying, Steel.”

“No, just blind.”

Vespa’s face changes, and her shoulders begin to shake up and down, her breath coming in harsh bursts. It takes a moment for Nureyev to realize that she’s laughing.

“What the hell is so funny?” Juno demands petulantly.

“Blind? You’re not blind!”

Juno lets out a sigh of relief, and Nureyev nearly collapses with it.

“You’ll need to use some extra pillows at night to prop your head up so the blood can drain, and I’ll give you some eye drops...And of course you’ll have to wear an eye patch for a few days, heh, but you’re not blind, Steel.” She laughs again and wipes a tear from her her eye. “Blind! You are a dramatic one, aren’t you. Blind…”

She walks out of the infirmary, still laughing and shaking her head. Nureyev waits until she’s gone before he grabs Juno and gives him a kiss.

“I knew you’d be okay.”

Juno lifts one corner of his mouth. “You did not,” he says before returning the favor. “Do you think maybe you could help me to my room? You know, since I can’t see…”

Nureyev smiles. “It would be my pleasure.”

xxx end

[yukipri]

Marco’s Bauble Part 4 - a One Piece Mermaid AU Text Story

Next part of Marco’s Bauble! Was posted in advance on Patreon ^ ^

In which the Whitebeards gossip

Contains mention of Marco x Luffy.

Continues off of, and should be read after:

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble Part 1

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble Part 2

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble Part 3

~~

Namur values his crew's privacy. And given that he doubts he was even supposed to see Marco's secret, he absolutely can't disclose it to anyone.

Which is why he's snuck into Izo's room at ass o'clock in the morning, when everyone but the morning shift is asleep, but Izo's awake because he takes a few hours doing his hair and makeup.

"This had better be good, I don't usually enjoy an audience before I'm presentable," Izo says.

Namur doesn't really get what's unpresentable about Izo now. Sure he looks different, with his ridiculously long hair still loose and spilling to his waist, pulled back from his face with a seemingly simple band that Namur saw Izo drop a small fortune for. Izo's plucking up various bottles of liquid lined up on his vanity, methodically shaking a few measured drops into his palm before patting them into his face. Namur doesn't see any difference before and after the drops are applied.

"It's...it's not my secret to tell, but no one else seems to know, and I need to talk to someone, it's too big for just me," Namur says, reluctantly. "But you can't tell anyone, Izo, I mean it."

Izo just hums in response, and Namur sweats. He seems to be doing a lot of that these days. Maybe he needs to take a few days to just swim, being above sea level for too long can be stressful for fishmen.

Because this is already seeming like an increasingly bad idea. Izo isn't known for being particularly good at keeping secrets; if anything, he's a known gossip. That being said, he's also one of the best listeners aboard the Moby (it's how he gets his info), and more importantly, is the third best person to go to for good, thoughtful advice.

The best person to go to for advice is, of course, Pops, but Namur wilts at the mere thought because it really, really isn't his place to talk to Pops about this without Marco's consent. And unfortunately, the close second for Best Person to Go to For Advice is none other than Marco himself, everyone's Big Brother and caring Mother Hen Supreme.

And, well. It's not like Namur can go to Marco to talk about Marco.

"Well, I'm waiting," Izo says, and apparently he'd gone through his entire lineup of six little bottles of mysterious liquids, and is now blotting some paste onto his skin with a weird brush-like contraption. Namur squints, but can barely see any difference between the areas with the paste and without.

"Please don't tell anyone, unless they already know," Namur stresses again, praying.

"Yes, yes." Izo continues blotting.

"Marco proposed to someone."

Izo continues blotting.

Namur sweats.

Izo's hand gradually slows, and Namur realizes he's finished covering his entire face. Namur sees zero difference.

"Just so we're clear," Izo says, as he finally turns to face Namur. "When you say 'Marco,' we're talking about the fire chicken one, and when you say 'propose,' we're talking about the marriage, weddings, and babies type?"

"Babies?!"

No, no, that actually hadn't crossed Namur's mind, but it's there now, and he knows logically that devil fruits don't work like that, but his mind is suddenly filled with the image of an entire school? flock? of tiny colorful winged merbabies, and he's oh, oh NO they're so cu--

"Namur! Focus, please!"

Namur blinks. He doesn't know when it happened, but one of Izo's eyebrows is more defined than the other now.

"Yeah, that Marco," he confirms. "And I, I don't know about...the last thing, but yeah, if successful, usually the kind that results in marriage type."

Izo's oddly calm, and is facing his mirror again. He frowns momentarily, but then smooths his expression and begins applying his other eyebrow. Namur realizes that Izo's able to keep his face so smooth because he wants to draw on his face evenly, and that's actually quite impressive. Though, he has no idea why Izo needs more eyebrows, when he already has perfectly normal ones growing on his face.

"Who's the boy who stole the stupid pineapple's heart, it must be someone we know," Izo says, voice light.

Namur wasn't exactly planning on disclosing this much, he'd just wanted someone else to help him think of how best to support their brother's potentially upcoming union, but Izo's definitely not taking no for an answer, and that's a fight he knows he can't win.

"It's Ace's little brother, the one Thatch went to go fetch," he says reluctantly. "And even though she's his 'little brother,' she's apparently a girl, and a mermaid."

There's a clatter, and Izo curses. Namur tries to peer at Izo's face in the mirror, and notices a weird black blob by his eye that Izo's now trying to delicately smudge off. It wouldn't have been there in the first place if Izo hadn't been trying to poke himself in the eye with the weird brush thing. Namur really doesn't get this makeup business.

"You're telling me," Izo growls, and Namur flinches at the irritation, though he gets the feeling it's directed mostly at the eye blob. "That Marco's straight? I could have sworn he was gay!"

Namur blinks at Izo.

Izo blinks at Namur through the mirror. The eye blob makes his face look slightly crooked.

"Oh, right," Izo mutters, picking up his brush with face distorting ink again. "I thought Marco only liked guys like that, so it surprised me that he likes a girl. Maybe he's bi. Don't worry about it, it's a dumb human thing."

"Oh," Namur says, and yeah, he's heard vaguely about humans being weirdly obsessed with only liking a specific gender or two. It's a very foreign concept that Namur doesn't really get because it doesn't exist on Fishman Island, and romance stuff rarely comes up on the Moby, shockingly enough, or at least in front of Namur. But he's glad Izo doesn't seem too upset, because that would upset Namur. Namur's never met Ace's little brother, but he imagines she'd look so very charming next to Marco, given how in love Marco looked when he was sending off his proposal. He wants to root for them.

"Although, hm, does Ace know? I doubt he'd be very happy about Marco sweeping his dearest little brother off her feet, er, fins," Izo says, seemingly more relaxed now that his face distorting paint is cooperating. His face is now even, although his eyes actually do look different now, more like the Izo Namur usually sees. It's fascinating.

"I don't know," Namur confesses, and he's suddenly feeling very glum at the thought of their little fire cracker baby brother not being happy. Even though Ace didn't formally join, he's still their littlest brother, and Namur's very fond of him, and has honestly lost track of the number of times he's dived into the sea to fetch the reckless kid. He was honestly devastated when Ace said he was leaving. It's alright now, now that Namur knows it was just to bring home Marco's future bride, but he hopes Ace will be supportive too.

"And how did you know he was proposing?"

At this point, what does it matter what else Namur shares? "Well..."

By the time Namur's done answering all of Izo's questions on Fishman Island courtship and Marco's respectful application of it, Izo's done with his face.

"Well, that was certainly a fascinating talk," Izo says with lips the color of a raw fish's innards. "Now I'll have to kick you out before I do my hair. At least I finished my face."

Namur knows he's been excused. "Thank you for your time. Also, it looks very nice, your face," he says politely as he gets up. It seems awkward not to comment on it, after having watched Izo work so hard on it for the past half hour. "Although it looked nice before too. I like the eye paint."

Izo pauses contemplatively, then nods. "That's an acceptable compliment. Thank you. Now, shoo."

~~

"So, who's the wedding for?"

Izo jolts as Haruta settles his tray on the other side of the table.

"What wedding?"

"Don't play dumb. You're planning a wedding. I noticed some of our books were moved in the library, and you were the only one who was in there before me. You were looking up Grand Line marriage traditions, and going through shitty wedding magazines that no one's touched in a decade," Haruta rattles off as he stirs his soup, and Izo inwardly curses.

He thought he'd placed them all back where he'd found them, but alas, apparently nothing gets by Haruta's observation skills, and his talent for butting into business that has nothing to do with him.

"And given the selections, I'd say it's not for you." Haruta continues, as though he knows Izo's tastes by heart and sadly, he probably does, and not just Izo's but the whole crew's. "So someone's getting married, or they're thinking about it, and you're planning. I want to know who."

"You're a nosey little shit," Izo says, because he knows there's really no point in denying it to Haruta without tangible evidence, which he lacks. He's also too tired to deal with this shit, because he did his hair in a hurry in order to make it to the library before everyone woke up, which means it's slightly less perfect than usual. And being anything less than perfect is a truly exhausting business.

"Mm-hmm," Haruta says, and momentarily seems distracted by his plate. There's a tiny, almost imperceptible frown on his lips, and Izo only recognizes it because he'd had the same thought.

The food's by no means bad, and they have many fine cooks on the Moby. It's just, it's a little different, without Thatch's personal touch. Izo hates that their brother's temporary absence is so tangible. Damn him for going on his little vacation.

They continue their meal in silence, and Izo hopes that Haruta's forgotten, his mind having moved on to terrorizing other innocent brothers. Izo thinks he might be able to get away, when Haruta gets up right alongside Izo to return his tray.

"So who is it?" he repeats, as though they hadn't just sat in thirty minutes of silence, and Izo wants to tear out Haruta's hair in frustration, because Izo would never tear out his own hair for any reason.

"It's none of your business, don't you have work to do?"

"My work is knowing stuff. Tell me."

"This isn't something you need to know. That's what I'm telling you."

"Nice try. Lemme guess. Is it Marco?"

Haruta laughs at his own joke, and promptly walks into Izo's back. Izo tries to get over his momentary freeze, but the damage is done.

"Holy shit, it's MARCO?!"

"What happened to Marco?" Vista has the absolute worst timing in entering the cafeteria, because he's standing directly in front of them. He already has his sword sheaths removed from his belt, no doubt so he can polish them in a corner after he's done eating, as is his usual ritual.

Haruta's eyes are blown wide, and Izo wants to stop him but no one can out-talk Haruta when he wants to talk, so it's like watching a cannonball hurtling towards an inevitable collision.

"Marco's getting married."

Vista never drops his swords.

Vista's swords clatter to the ground.

And now everyone inside the cafeteria, and those in the line forming outside behind Vista, all stop to stare.

~~

~~

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

And as always, comments/reblogs/tags always immensely appreciated!!! People sharing their thoughts with me motivates me to write so much more, and update more frequently, so thank you so much for everyone who’s so kindly done so in the past!! ;A;

(The next part’s already up on Patreon if anyone wants to read in advance <3)

❀ ❀ Send YukiPri an Ask! ❀ ❀

Read the next part: Marco’s Bauble, Part 5

~This ask has been added to the Mermaid AU Text Headcanons Compilation post~

[skiasurveys]

435

your name:

Skia

do you like to shoot pool?:

No

are you any good?:

Idk

what is the scariest movie you ever saw?:

Cars 2

the funniest?:

Uhhhh

the saddest?:

Hope floats

do you daydream?:

Yes unfortunately

do you dream at night?:

Yes vividly

do you remember them? Care to share?:

Too weird

when you’re sick, do you like to be pampered, or left alone?:

pampered ngl

who’s the better actor, jack nicholson or anthony hopkins?:

Both

are you superstitious?:

No that shit dumb lmaooo

how many pictures are in your wallet?:

Zero

do you like getting pictures taken?:

Yeah I do but not without my approval or where someone wants to make me look ugly hahaha

if someone cries while watching a sad movie..do you laugh at them?:

No that’s rude lol

how often do you change your sheets?:

Pretty often once a month

is you bedroom upstairs or down?:

I’m in an apartment so same level

is it true blood is thicker than water?:

No

if you could wish someone out of your life ..who would it be?:

No one

if you could be with anyone in the world..famous or not..who would it be?:

No one

are you high maintenance?:

no. i don’t think so at least

if you could change one thing in the world..what would it be:

How others view others

if you could star in any movie..which would it be?:

Something like lord of the rings or a fun Disney one

deliveryman at your door..who’s the package from?:

amazon

if you could completely change who you are..would you?:

yeah i guess like maybe change the shitty parts of me like how i am super sensitive or how i am too kind to people who use me

if you could live in a fairytale..which would it be?:

uhhhh idk lmao

if you could live in the past..where would it be?:

i don’t know like maybe the 80s would be different and cool

if you could see only one person right now..who would it be?:

i’m okay

do you wear shoes in the house?:

no only if i’m about to leave or i come home and forget to take my shoes off right away

do you dream in color or black and white?:

color.

what is your favorite accent?:

i don’t think any tbh i used to be one of those annoying bitches who thought the british accent was hot but it’s really not lol no offense to british people 😂

do you like sunsets or sunrises?:

sunsets are pretty but sunrises are just so much more prettier imo

what age did you find out santa wasn’t real?:

never believed

do you write poetry/songs/stories?:

used too when i was younger. not my thing tbh i suck. sometimes i’ll try free form or something but nothing good enough to share hahaha

do you wear socks with sandals?:

fuuuuck no!

would you marry for money?:

no because money is nice but it can come and go and if i married someone i didn’t like then that would suck and also i need to be with someone i enjoy hhaha

do you have any “in the mood” music you like to listen to?:

no

would you vote for a woman president?:

no bc one i’m not american but i also wouldn’t just vote for a woman because she’s a woman but if she had good shit then sure

Are looks/appearances really important?:

No but nothings wrong with wanting someone you find attractive

what are you most looking forward to?:

maybe when everything is kinda back to normal

if someone lied to you and came clean is that forgivable?:

depends on the lie

if you had to repeat a day over and over again..what day would you pick?:

oct 3 2015

When you die, do you want to be cremated or buried?

buried i think

Did/do you like high school?

I didn’t hate it but it wasn’t the best time of my life

Do you like to play video games?

yup!

Do you like Final Fantasy? Which one do you prefer of all?

i haven’t really played them

Have you ever caught on fire?

no lol

Do you have a YouTube channel?

yes haha

Do you ever go to video game arcades?

i would if we had them here

Do you care what people think of you?

yeah i do lol

Have you ever had a crush on a teacher?

once in gr 7 lol so nasty i think he knew too lmaooo

Do you like Lady Gaga?

yeah sure

Don’t you hate when your foot falls asleep?

yeah i hate the feeling lol

Do you think you have been in love before?

yeah i am

Do you write poetry?

not really sometimes i do but never good hahah

Do you like Edgar Allan Poe?

l doooo

Have you ever met anyone famous? If so, who?

nah

Have you ever gotten hit on by some creeper?

yeah

Do you watch LifeTime?

no

Do you bless random people when they sneeze?

ye

Do you have a short temper?

yeah

Do you like Sarah Dessen?

who

Do you want to have children? If so, how many?

i’m not sure tbh i don’t know if i do but if i were to have kids i would probably want 2 for sure bc when it comes to trips and stuff it’s way easier to plan for 4 people than 4, and also they have a buddy

Have you ever had a yard sale?

nah

Do you go to Barnes and Noble for books, the library or someplace else?

we don’t have that here we have indigo books and chapters (same thing lol)

Do you have an iPad?

i doooo shes my baby 🥺 tbh it’s the best tech i have ever owned for some reason it’s like 4 years old so i need a new one cus i can tell shes at her wits end

Are you scared to die?

scared of how

Do you go to church every Sunday?

no

Have you ever called one of those Hot Line numbers?

no

Do you think you draw well?

yeah but i could be better!

Have you ever wanted to be a meteorologist?

nah

yessss

Do you like Taylor Swift?

[tedfashionski]

Seeing Red

I was drawing today and reminded somehow of that depressing development where the sister of David & Samantha Cameron has been appointed editor of the Evening Standard. Like, I’m looking past the implied wider corruption problems in ‘real’ journalism here, but one point she said in her announcement interview really bothered me. She said, something to the effect of ‘Oh, thank god I spent 20 years working at Vogue while David was in politics, because I am just so fond of him and I would hate to have to be critical of him. So I was safe at Vogue.’

That, right there, sums up how far fashion media is from even being able to recognise the functional role of journalism. Oh, thankfully, at Vogue we can hide from criticality and awareness of the political dimensions of the world. All the while, the fashion industry is feeding this planet-killing spirit-crushing capitalist consumerism. But, no, why would it be political? Stop making it political. It’s just clothes.

 K, I’m going to RANT a little about these digital fashion weeks we’ve just been subjected to. I’ll preface by saying, yeah, I get it, it’s hard to be creative in the thick of a pandemic. My standards have been accordingly lowered 20%. I am very generous.

 Chanel and Dior’s lack of energy was no surprise. Although, keeping in mind female designers tend to be more pragmatic as a matter of course, it’s sad the two top women are being so listless. I was pleasantly surprised by Azzaro – it gave a hint of a vibe but was sure of itself. It emphasised that there was no reason for the Chanel & Dior videos & collections to exist, no point of view. The smaller couture players like the Dutch trinity of Ronald van der Kemp, Iris van Herpen, and Viktor & Rolf were a little more canny, you got the impression they were enjoying themselves at the very least.

 Regarding men’s, I do think Rick Owens was actually well judged in its boringness – we don’t need product-based experimentation necessarily. I enjoyed the meta-narrative aspect, it seems to me a good time for that kind of subtle, slightly snide interplay of references. Yohji’s design’s really sang, the video could have worked harder, it felt thrown together and didn’t do the clothes justice. (Side note, that showstudio Yohji review video, 45 mins of failing to say anything, was what finally pushed me over the edge. Dude. Are you guys for real? ‘Where is the avant garde’? If you don’t know, give up already. I’m not even a Yohji fanbear but he deserves better.) Kiko gave us a real stab at a pscho-medieval vibe, and I would’ve written a full review about it cus there’s stuff going on there. But fuck that. If he doesn’t want to talk to us, and show his full vision to the public in a spirit of optimism and faith in the culture, why should I bother with him? Mean and snooty gatekeeping gets mean and snotty graffiti right back.

 Fashion culture (twitter, specifically) wants to be wowed by everything all the time. Then, it complains and says why is fashion week even happening during a pandemic, now isn’t the time for fashion. Another example of our schizo cognitive dissonance as we consume this shit. What do we even want?

 I’ll tell you what I want. I want fashion designers to be engaged in a collective speculative in-depth discussion of what the future feels like right now, as an artform. So, I’m not going to analyse anything as a commercial proposition, because the future features less and less buying shit. In part as I believe that with growing internet dispersal of OG systems, awareness will rise, the vocabulary will expand, and we’ll stop caring so much about the performative aspects of fashion clothing. The interiority aspect will only grow, and that means unique-feeling experiences that are like conversing with a familiar presence. The fashion designer as moot, a parasocial meta-commentator. A friend you don’t actually have to talk to, just talk with, in the culture. That process won’t start from a point of ‘buy my shit’. First, a relationship should be built up, set up and running along. Then, if product occurs it’s incidental. Wow, I’m being a real little weatherbear. Check out my prophecies!

 So, I’m pretty disappointed and depressed about the resentful undertone of much of the work presented to us. Like, they’re crossing their arms and getting all grumpy about how they’re not allowed to carry on like they always do. FFS, you’re FASHION PEOPLE. Change is the name of the game, this shit should excite you. It’s your job to guide each other in an open-ended perusal of future possibilities, and to make recommendations. It’s not just clothes, they’re the medium, the language in which you build the commentary. If all you care about is nice product (*cough*, hedi slimane, *cough* jacquemus), stop calling yourself a fashion designer, because you’re a clothing manufacturer and I don’t care about you.

 Why are all these videos so boring? Have any of these people heard of editing, rhythm? They do realise you can hire people for this kind of thing, right? The deadening lack of imagination amongst people whose full-time job it is to be creative about the present’s transition into the future is astounding. This really underlines the risks of nepotism and gatekeeping. The only people who can afford to participate are the gutless products of a bloated upper middle class. I don’t believe in that class’s creative capacities for one fucking minute. They’ve got nothing at stake, no guts to go against anything, because their boring shitty system works for them, so why should it change? Ugh, vom.

Where is the communicative power? Nothing is being said, it’s filler for an elite determined to go down with their ship. I’m glad it’s sinking, it wasn’t fit for purpose and I’ll happily stick some extra holes in to make it sink faster.

 I’m going to single out Jonathan Anderson again. Listen, he’s a little pretty boy who’s working so effectively within the system, who has played the game perfectly to the best of his ability. His work is top level, he wins every time. So, I reckon he can be held up as an example. He can take it. I’m looking at the box-shows he did for Loewe and his own brand, and I’m thinking, oh that’s such a lovely take on alt fashion communication. So much heart, and care. Then, what’s the internet equivalent? A little video showing off the box. Some 3d shots & backs of looks and boxes. A little extemporised pitter patter from Jonny. That’s it. It’s still classist as fuck. With garment design there’ll always be limits on what’s possible in terms of digital translation. This isn’t actually garment design though. It’s fashion design. If I’m stuck with a low-grade clip and some jpegs, it’s pretty clear to me you don’t care about your wider fashion community. There should be an open digital experience that feels equally cared for and crafted. And here’s where I get really angry: all these fashion journalists have been delivered this unique, beautiful experience, and what are they doing with it? Where is the thoughtful response? Every single one of these people in this privileged position should be DOING THEIR JOBS (WHICH THEY ARE PAID TO DO, FULL TIME) and WRITE ABOUT FASHION. Not post online, ‘omg lovee ittt, so cutee!’. Anyone can do that. Are you a fan or a professional? This is an embarrassment. I’m stuck analysing some pixels. You’re getting the ‘real’ experience. I know I’ll never be an insider given these opportunities. I chose this path and I’m not going to try and play that game, because the rules are: you get access, in exchange for sacrificing criticality. Because these people, as educated and privileged as they are, don’t understand the value of criticism. Good criticism, the detailed, even handed, unafraid kind, pushes the culture forward. You can’t have a healthy art form without it, it’s essential because it’s the back in the back and forth. I probably could’ve tried to play their silly PR game a bit harder. But I had a nervous breakdown, in part, because I knew I would never be allowed to get close to the art enough to analyse it fairly if I spoke freely as I do now. And freedom is essential. So, pixels it is. Rudeness it is. Because there is work to do to salvage the bottom-dwelling wreck of our fashion dreams so that maybe we can travel somewhere new and better with them. It just sucks that there’s people standing there with the tools to help and no desire to save themselves or anyone else.

[lesbian-octoling]

Hey guys, Xeno drama ((you know, about the banner and hate and whatnot)) below the cut if you don’t wanna see it!!! 

@mrkamabo--co Hello! I don’t know if you’re ever going to see this, but. It’s here.

First of all, yes, it’s me! lesbian-octoling, rhi-draws-things, whatever you wanna call me. I’m making this because I’ve heard through a friend of mine that I trust that you are a relatively good person, and while I don’t agree with everything you’ve done, I figured i might as well try to clear things up between us.

First off-

I’m sorry.

This is a 100% genuine, formal apology. I am sorry your medical issues are acting up, I understand completely. I had and almost identical use (albeit with chemical imbalances making me throw up, instead of breathing/heart issues, but both caused by stress), so I get it.

I’m not here to stress you further. In fact, I’m here to try and resolve the issue. I don’t want you to feel the way you do, and I don’t want to start more drama. I should know, i’ve been receiving nasty shit for a while. If you don’t want to read this- that’s okay! Don’t stress yourself, dude.

I just feel like this is important, because we never actually talked- and lack of communication often leads to violence.

But there are a few thing I wanted to address- first and foremost, the ‘xeno free zone’ banner, and the tags.

#‘you’re a coward cuz u wanna draw them with t^ddy’#i don’t do that in the first place lmao#and if you’re going to say:#'its actually scientifically accurate!’#nope it really isn’t #why?#why would squids/octopi evolve to have digigrades/muzzles/claws on their hands?#why would they look like goats with their eyes and muzzles?#they would have flat fish face!#have squid/octo hat heads!#like the third stage in their canon evolution!#exaggerate that if you want scientifically accurate squidlings/octolings/inklings!#otherwise.. yall just makin them into furries tbh#note: i have a surplus of fursonas#k peace

Ah, I hope you don’t mind me going off a bit, but I did want to say things!!!

Muzzles: Inkling beaks, IRL, are very long! they just look flat because.. well, squids are long! But if you put that into something shaped like a human head, they need a bit more room to stretch out.

Claws: they’re not actually claws, they’re hooks! Just like real deep-sea squids have hooks made of chitin that can retract back into their tentacles, which is why i made them like that. As you can see when they go back into heir squid forms, their arms and legs ARE just evolved tentacles!

Here’s a cool example of the hooks, as compared to some of my squid hands:

‘goat noses’: This is because… it’s not a nose! A real squid breathes through it’s siphon, which is one, large hole. That’s why their nose is like that- it’s not two nostrils, it’s one hole, but flattened down so it’s not just a big ol’ hole in their face. If it was, things might get into it, like dirt or bugs or.. i dunno.

Digigrades: admittedly, this is just because it’s fun, and theres no reason they shouldn’t. Any other similarities to cats is just… coincidental, really, as cats and squids have a lot of similarities (liking the sun, chasing lights, etc).

Eyes: Actually, this was a mistake. When i FIRST started getting into splatoon i was like ‘wait squids have horizontal pupils right’ and only found out later that no.. that’s octopi! But oh well, it was a bit late, eh? live and learn.

I’m not saying its fully scientifically accurate- hell, course it’s not! But its more biologically accurate than having them being made of ink. Mostly, I just think it’s fun, cus I’m a budding biologist and I think it’s cool to explore these concepts.

Ok! Thats all I gotta say. I just wanted a chance to explain myself, s’all! As for the banner itself… while it may have been joking in nature, I do think it was a bit rude. Kinda like swinging a bat at a hornet’s nest, yeah..? Like you said- “but yknow tumblr be tumblr, and i honestly expected This™”… you gotta watch out what you say sometimes. You could’ve made it more obvious that you were joking- putting ‘XENO FREE ZONE’ with bit red X’s and ‘feel free to reblog :)’ just has.. a very mean tone to it, and it rubbed a lot of people the wrong way, regardless of your intentions. It really didn’t sound like a joke, to a lot of people, including me.

Though, maybe, we’re all just a bit wary- I’ve been receiving asks telling me to- quite literally- kill myself, multiple times, over this. I also know several friends who have gotten the same messages (a few of which don't even draw xeno, but simply because they are my friends). I think me (and other xeno artists, though I cannot speak for them) have a right to be wary, when we’re so used to being bashed. A lot of people are scared, and it doesn’t make what some people said right, I’m just… telling you why that massive backlash happened.

And by ‘massive backlash’…. if I’m being honest- and I don’t mean to make it sound trivial- a lot of the responses to those posts weren’t truly mean. Some people sent a clown meme, a lot of people responded with ‘why are you hating us, were just having fun’. A few were pretty mean, yes, but I could count them on one hand. These were light hearted in nature, and nothing like some of the truly nasty things that could’ve been said. You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve received in my inbox…

I think a lot of this could’ve been avoided if your post right after had simply been an apology. Instead of playing the victim card, simply say ‘ah, that last post was a joke- i sincerely apologize, and I might’ve worded it poorly’. That’s it. And it could have been avoided if you said, in the tags ‘this is a joke post don't take it seriously’. But instead, you went on the criticize xeno aspects. Not saying you’re wrong, but pointing out why so many people took it the wrong way.

But.. the main thing I wanted to address was this post.

I.. can’t say I’m in the right, but I can’t say you are, either. I probably shouldn’t have made that post- but it was meant more as an off-hand joke. I didn’t mention you at all, as I didn’t want anyone to hate on you. It’s more of a running joke for my blog of ‘sexy tartar’, which is why it was funny enough that I brought it up.

#can’t feel safe#when i put an opinion out there#its easy.. to ignore a post yknow…? It’s also easy not to make a joke like that. Again- maybe you intended it as a joke, but it’s like one of those shitty april fools pranks where you tell somebody something bad happened. We got scared. Doesn’t make it right of us, but it doesn’t make it right of you, either.

But the ONLY thing I’m truly angry about- if you saying that ‘you, a minor, don’t feel safe because you’re being shat on by an adult’. The reason this makes me mad is because… I’m 18. Barely. And you’re 17. I’m… not even a full year older than you. I’m still in high school. The way you worded it made it sound like i’m a 32 year old getting off on sending hate to a 13 year old- and that’s not even close to the case. That is not cool, dude.

Anyway. Sorry about that, though I hope you can see why I’m.. unhappy with the wording. I’m trying to solve things here, not make them worse, ha…

And.. yes, I did block you. But not so you wouldn’t find out. You can still see my blog; i know this. I blocked you because I’ve been getting hate anons for the past few weeks, and I can’t be too careful with who I block. I’m tired of people telling me im ‘ruining the fandom’, so I tend to block at leisure, or when I have suspicion. And a big ‘ANTI XENO’ banner is reasonable suspicion, yes…?

Again, I apologize for that post, but i was not doing to to spite you, just because I found it funny. I didn’t contribute to the spreading of hate to you in any way- I am very anti-hate messaging, and very pro ‘block and ignore if you don’t like them’. Which is.. what I was trying to do, but I didn’t want to leave us on that sour note. I did not encourage anyone to ridicule you on your post, or send you any sort of messages and asks.The only people I complained to were my girlfriend and a select few close friends, who i KNOW would not participate in any sort of hate spreading.

I’m not asking you to be friends with me. I’m simply trying to clear off any misconceptions- I’m fully welcome to hearing what you have to say back. But…

All in all, I think the gist of what im trying to say is that we all made mistakes, and we should both own up to them. I’m very sorry about your heart condition- I sincerely, 100% hope you get better. And I’m hoping that by talking it out, we can clear things up and not let it stew..? I know that sometimes these things tend to eat at me until I fix them, and that is all I’m trying to do.

I’ve unblocked you for as long as it takes for us to resolve this issue, if you would like to move to DMs, or to discord. Either works. Or.. don’t respond at all, if you don’t want.

Have a nice night, and I hope you feel better!

[the-lupine-sojourner]

Hello! If you're still comfortable with writing for emergency requests could you please write Izuku comforting his s/o who's parents are going through a really rocky divorce? It just got really rough with them tonight, they started yelling and blaming me for it. Totally fine if you're not comfortable though!

I am accepting Emergency Requests, yes, Anon. I am so sorry to hear that you’re going through a tough time.

I have not had any experience with divorce myself, personally or through any of my friends, but I do know that it is not your fault, no matter how many times people tell you that. I know this situation is tough, and I hope this helps, at least a little. Feel free to message me, if you feel comfortable, if you need to talk or another request, okay?

God Bless and Good Day!

~The Lupine Sojourner

(figured you'd like to see this adorable smile 😅)

You hadn't mentioned a whole about your personal life to Izuku, preferring to leave him in the dark about your parents’ situation, which was rapidly getting worse. Even after you two began dating, you didn’t want to burden him. After all, the relationship was only a few months old. No need to burden this sweet, amazing child with something like this.

That being said, you knew you couldn’t keep this to yourself any longer. Not after your shitty night. With tear-blurred vision and shaky hands, you pushed talk. He picked up quickly, as usual. “Hey, Y/N!” He cheered, happy as always to hear your voice, and there was that typical almost nervous edge to it he still hadn’t been able to control. You swallow to try to make your voice sound more normal.

“H-hey, Izuku...um...can we go somewhere? Anywhere? I just…” You broke, hating the sound of Izuku gasping in shock. You never wanted to hurt him, but you needed to see him. 

“Oh, oh of course, Y/N! What’s wrong?! Did someone hurt you!?” You sniffle, wiping your eyes. He was so sweet to be this concerned.

“N-no...kinda...it’s just...I need to- -I need to go somewhere with you…” You whimper. Normally, you did your level best to remain fairly composed and focused on school to avoid questions. But not now...not now.

“Okay. I’ll be there in about ten minutes. Are you sure you’re gonna be okay?” You swallow again, wishing the lump in your throat would go away.

“Y-yeah. I just...yeah, I’m okay.” You reply.

“You don’t sound okay. Do you need me to stay on the phone?” You considered, biting your lip. It would help, but no. You couldn´t ask him to do that.

“No, I think I’ll be okay. I’m sorry to bother- -”

“Y/N, you’re not bothering me. I promise. I’ll be there as soon as possible, okay? Just hold on.” You nod.

“Okay. I love you.” You murmur, wiping your eyes again. You hadn´t said it often, but you meant it, every time.

“I love you, too. Drink a big glass of water. All of it, and wash your face, but don’t rub it dry. Pat only. Okay?” Having a task to do gave you some control of yourself again.

“Okay. See you soon. I’ll text you my address.”

“Thank you. See you soon, Y/N.” Izuku replies, hesitating just a second or two, but then he hung up and you stood. Thankfully, you happened to have a fairly big glass in your room and an attached bathroom, so you wouldn’t have to face your warring parents again.

About a year ago, things began to shift with no one knowing what precisely caused the rift, but it was far too wide and jagged to repair or bridge now. So now, your parents were meeting with lawyers and arguing constantly. You were almost thankful you didn’t have siblings. Almost because you want company, but you also wouldn’t want to force your siblings through this hell.

It was bad enough you were dragging your boyfriend into this. At this point, you didn’t care about Izuku knowing just how crappy your personal life was, a fear you’d held due to the demons in your head whispering that if he knew, he’d break things off, gnawing away at any thought of telling him before it could be properly considered. Now you had no choice. You had to take that dive.

Things had gotten so bad, your parents took their anger, bitterness, and frustrations out on you, claiming you were the reason they were in this mess and the reason they were going their separate ways. You hadn´t been able to reply, racing away and up to your room, already sobbing. 

=#=#=#=#=

Izuku texted you about ten minutes after you called him, as promised, and you snuck out through the back door, your parents oblivious in the living room. He hugged you tight, kissing your cheek as he takes your situation in. “What’s wrong?” He asks, eying the door as a particularly loud shout rang out, barely audible so far from the living room. His gentle hands cupped your face, eyes searching for hints of abuse or whatever happened in your face. You put your hands over his, already feeling a small tiny bit better. You keep holding one hand and lead him away toward a nearby park.

“Well, about a year ago, something, and none of us can pinpoint what, changed and my parents just...started getting more and more toxic around each other, and then they started dragging me into things, and now...they’re going their separate ways. Last night was the worst I’ve ever seen, and they told me I was to blame for all that went wrong in their marriage, and it hit me really hard, and…” You started crying again, clutching Izuku’s jacket. His arms slowly came around you as you halted and cried into his chest. He held you, unable to think of anything to say for a while. Gently, he transitioned to a side-hug and led you toward the park.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I should have realized how bad things at your house were. You always kept to yourself, and I should have figured it out sooner.” He apologizes, and you look at him in shock as you near a bench. You sit Izuku down, leaning over to cup his face like he had done earlier.

“Izuku, you couldn’t have known, cus I decided not to tell anyone. I figured it’d be easier than dealing with the drama of everyone my parents were divorcing. I’m sorry. I should have told you.” Izuku pulls you down and hugs you.

“Y/N, you are so strong and brave to go through this alone, but you need to let people help you when you’re struggling.” He then leans out just enough to look you in the eyes. “But, if you don’t want me to, I won’t tell anyone what’s going on, okay? That is entirely your choice.” You loved this boy more every day, you swore. You leaned in for a quick kiss.

“I really appreciate that, Izuku. I would rather not have this spread all over the school, thank you.” Izuku nods, drawing you in again.

“Okay. Do you want to go somewhere else, or do you want to stay here?” You sigh.

“I’d rather just stay here, if that’s okay.” Izuku nods.

“Okay.” He nuzzles your temple a little.

After a while, he suggested they move to a little hill and stargaze. You and Izuku passed a pleasant few hours just laying there, point out the few constellations you both knew and whichever stars looked particularly amazing. With Izuku here, you almost forgot what waited for you when you got home.

You swore you’d marry this boy someday. Someday soon...and that thought gave you enough strength to not feel fear creeping back into your house after Izuku kissed you goodnight.

For the first time in a long time, you felt truly happy and slept without nightmares or constantly waking up.

I really hope this helps a little, Anon! Hang in there! You’re not to blame, and you are an amazing person! Please always remember that you are not in any way to blame and you are awesome!

[general-du-vallon]

I can’t remember who the episode is or what the theme for the rewatch but man poor Constance. What a shitty day, huh? And Porthos also ended sad! Oh no! I will make them a nice fic. 

Constance is not at all surprised at the smug pleasure on Jacques’s face when he comes home and finds d’Artagnan gone. He’s been making it harder and harder for her to think of him as a good man, recently. She still has his gift, the expensive jewels hidden away, kept guiltily safe for if she ever needs money even if they are technically his. Constance has left him dinner, she sits at the table and he eats happily as if all is back to normal. She can’t stand it. When she gets up and gets her shawl he looks surprised, then grunts in exasperation and tells her to go buy him bread and ale. She goes, her thirty livres still in her skirt unknown to him, his two livres in her hand. She doesn’t buy anything, just walks, lucky not to be robbed out at night. She drops by a certain house to give one of the livres to the working women of the Parisian streets, they always need a few coins in there. She walks until she thinks Bonacieux will have given up on her then heads back to the house. 

She lets out a sigh that’s almost a sob when she sees him sitting in the dim kitchen, no candles just the stove lit. He turns, though, and it’s Porthos not Bonacieux. Constance’s grief is displaced by surprised. She goes to stand by the stove to warm up and finds a plate of food on there kept warm, a mug of wine also warm. She turns to Porthos and he shrugs. Constance brings it to the table and eats in silence. It’s companionable, with Porthos, not stiff like with Bonacieux. 

“What are you doing here?” Constance asks, when she’s nursing the wine, shoes kicked off under the table. 

“Came looking for the pup,” Porthos says, leaning back in the chair. He looks weary. “Wasn’t here, your husband was storming about. I sent him off to the taverns, he’s not a violent drunk is he? Gave him coin.”

“He just sleeps,” Constance says. “It’s... a nice break. You shouldn’t have given him your money.”

“Didn’t,” Porthos says, a momentary brightness flashing over his features. “I’ve light fingers, I took it from his purse.”

Constance laughs, delighted. Jacques probably won’t even notice or if he does he’ll put it down to drunkenness or someone at the taverns taking it off him, not the honourable musketeer. He might not like the soldiers but they’re the king’s musketeers and he likes the king; he can’t dislike them with the king’s shine on them. 

“He doesn’t hurt me,” Constance says. 

“More ways to hurt someone than hitting them,” Porthos says, voice soft and sad from experience. He shakes his head and smiles at her. 

“What happened?” Constance asks, wanting someone else’s sadness to distract from her own, even if it is from d’Artagnan’s friend, reminding her of d’Artagnan. 

“Did the pup behave badly?” Porthos asks. 

“That is not your business. What happened?”

“I thought maybe... but no. I guess I wouldn’t give it up?” Porthos says, looking at her with a tired desperation, like he wants her assurance. 

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” Constance says, finishing her wine and going to open up the stove, sitting by it. Porthos joins her, side by side legs stretched out to the heat. 

“Fighting,” Porthos says, rubbing his face. “I don’t want to be a violent man, or dangerous. I said to Aramis there’s a life beyond the musketeers. Wish I believed that.”

“Someone offered it you?” Constance asks tugging on bits of what Porthos is saying, what she knows of him, trying to knit it together into a better picture. 

“Mm,” Porthos says, and his face lights up, softens, goes beautifully open and hopeful. oh. That sort of someone. It makes Constance think of d’Artagnan and she covers her face. “Yeah.”

“I never asked for much,” Constance whispers. “Whatever I feel for... anyone, it’s not like I ever expected or asked for anything more than this marriage. I’m practical, realistic, I don’t dream.”

“Dreaming is something people do when they have options,” Porthos says, his hand reaching out and taking hers. 

They sit together like that, hand in hand and side by side but each nursing their own hurts. It grows darker and colder and the stove starts to go out, the wood running low. Constance hasn’t any more for today. She remembers the thirty livres and laughs, thrusting wood into the stove without much care; she can afford it. She’s not the one paying d’Artagnan’s bills anymore. 

“I got a glimpse,” Porthos says. “She was something else.”

“Who?”

“Alice Clerbeaux,” Porthos says. 

“I know of her,” Constance says. "She’s bought cloth from my husband. She’s very beautiful.”

“Yeah, kind too,” Porthos says. “Offered me a lot. I nearly took it, too.”

Constance thins about the way the woman had smiled at her when Bonacieux was dismissive, the way her hair was twisted and plaited, her bright eyes. She nods. They settle into quiet again. She doesn’t want to tell him about d’Artagnan, he’ll hear d’Artagnan’s side soon enough she’s sure. She doesn’t want him to know that she was dissembling. None of them can know. She stares into the fire and her eyes sting, losing herself. 

“More wine,” Porthos says, getting up and going to find a bottle, coming back quickly with one he must have brought; she didn’t have it. He tops her mug up and gets one for himself, making himself at home. He toasts her before taking a deep sip and resting back in his chair again. “I’m glad of your friendship, Constance. It’s hard to always be the realistic, practical one, to always be down to earth while Athos is off in his melancholy, Aramis is busy being romantic and flighty.”

“Oh,” Constance says, not sure she wants to be the practical realistic person.

“There’s more to us than that, eh? We’ve got plenty of melancholy and romanticism,” Porthos grumbles, a proper rumbling grumble. He tips her a wink and she laughs, letting her head fall back with it, hair coming out of it’s ties. “You’re beautiful too you know. In case them boys in your life have forgot to tell you recently.”

You shine so brightly in my eyes, it puts every other woman in the shade

Constance’s eyes fill with tears and she covers her face again drying them away. It was a very charming complement, she’d loved it. It had felt like being young, the giddiness and rush of it, of being the focus of such intent. She glances up at finds Porthos watching her, face troubled. 

“What is it?” she asks. 

“I wouldn’t want to lose your friendship,” Porthos says. “Now that... I wouldn’t want to lose this is all.”

“No,” Constance says, believing it as she says it. “You bring good wine.”

Porthos roars with joyful laughter and Constance can’t help joining in. She pours her another measure and toasts her properly, clanging their mugs together with too much enthusiasm setting them both laughing again. 

“Ah, what a week,” she sighs, leaning back and sipping the wine. 

“That I will drink to,” Porthos says. “You know, I might give up soldiering, but not my family. Where she saw violence, I just saw them protecting each other, and me. I saw them fighting beautifully. I saw courage and brotherhood. If she can’t see the beauty in my family then...”

“You see beauty in people where others don’t find so much,” Constance says, looking down at her knees. 

“Courage, too,” Porthos says, stubbornly, clearly getting her meaning. “You never gave in, Constance, don’t let people make you feel otherwise. Call it regrouping, eh? You fight hard for people, d’Artagnan told me about what you did for Fleur, I’ve seen what you do for him, seen what you do for the women of Paris. You fight that hard sometimes you gotta take a rest, sometimes you make enemies and lie low for safety. Whatever’s going on don’t... you’re full of fire, yeah?”

“Sure,” Constance says. 

“Bravery, it’s not what people think. Not doing great things and finding glory and honour. Bravery is in the little things,” Porthos says. “Like walking to church despite what other people might think, or offering a soldier another life, or letting go of vengeful anger so you can win and get justice for someone else. Or standing in for your men cus you hope the best for them, even if they censure you for it, taking their disrespect even when it’s not deserved.”

“You’re not talking about me anymore,” Constance says. 

“Got the feeling you’d prefer we didn’t,” Porthos says. 

“We should be cheerful.”

“Ok.”

“But grief isn’t shameful, so maybe we should weep,” Constance says. 

Porthos looks a little taken aback but game. He wrinkles up his face as if trying for tears and it makes Constance laugh, finding that she’s fond of his face. He snorts and shakes his head, chuckling. So they don’t weep together, but they don’t force cheer either. They share wine and burn too much wood and laugh too hard and sit in silence. He bolsters her and makes sure, absolutely sure, that when he goes he will be welcome back. That when he leaves, she’s safe and warm and knows she’s not alone. He slips into the streets, silent and barely visible, not drawing any attention to her having a man in the house alone. She puts the stove out and retreats to her little bed under the window, away from Bonacieux, away from d’Artagnan, alone. She feels warm, though, holding his friendship tight to her as she falls asleep. 

[sidrisa-blog]

Power and Magic

Read it here on AO3

Pairings: Loki x Reader and the lightest Sif X Thor

Chapter: 18/104

Warnings: the usual: sex, death, and violence with light smatterings of misogynoir

Summary: The princes come with their exalted Father arriving amidst a hail of pomp and pageantry all parties would rather forgo. This is war, where men die, their blood purchasing land and peace until it's time for more men and more blood. But your mother adheres to the old rules of hearth and hospitality. The Lords of Asgard must be given their due despite the grim business precipitating their arrival. It is too bad they don't deserve it. There is nothing to recommend him, Loki, Prince of Asgard. He is rude and cold and childish. You try to find some merit in him. You find none. Exactly none. But maybe, after trial and tribulation,

You will.

It gets cold, fast. Keeping your cloak tight around your neck doesn’t do it any more. You’re shivering when the last orange rays of sunset streak the sky, and you’ve lost feeling in your fingers and toes by the time that light disappears. The sky, what you can see of it anyway, is all grey now, clouds hanging over you like swords ready to drop, but instead of steel they release soft puffy white flakes.

Cephalus nickers and whines, he’s not as cold but he’s suffering too. You can’t let him kick off into a gallop again because you don’t know where you’re going and you can’t make it harder for anyone else to find you.

And you hope people are trying to find you.

You don’t wonder if he’s coming for you, you know he is, you have to believe he would. He cares enough right? You mean something to him, don't you? He wouldn’t just write you off?

I’m sorry mistress, I don't know where to go.  Cephalus paws at the snow, hoof swiping away an inch of accumulation, the layer getting thicker by the second.

You lean forward and wrap your arms around his neck, leeching heat from him. Your legs hurt and your head is throbbing.

You get sleepy.

**

You light up like a beacon in his mind, a lighthouse in his dark thoughts. You chase the shadows from his consciousness and become his sole point of focus. Loki flexes his magic, plucks it like the strings of an instrument feeling sound reverb, strike you, and travel back.

“North.”

Thor, Sif, Volstagg, Hogun, and Fandral accompany him on horses.

“How far?” Thor pulls his cloak over his head to shield his eyes from the sleet.

“I can’t tell, just ride north. Hya!”

**

Cephalus is smart, you named him well. He finds for you a cave.

If you ever see Niti again, you’re burning your dresses and wearing nothing but your Captain’s leathers for the rest of your life. One of your slippers fell off during your quest for shelter and you can’t feel anything from your knees down, like your legs are just frozen stumps. They make it very difficult for you to pry yourself off the horse, you manage but end up falling into a drift, ensuring from the flakes in your hair down to your feet you are covered in melting snow, dripping wet.

You take Cephy’s reins and he helps pull you to your feet, together you walk into the cave. You’ve nothing to light a fire with, you can’t even find anything in all this darkness dry enough to strike together to try. So you sit, and wait for daylight.

Or death.

Cephalus lays down next to you, he keeps you warm, but unless you can crawl inside his belly, the places he can’t touch freeze.

You’re getting sleepier.

**

He calls your name but the wind takes it and returns no echo.

Again.

Nothing.

He pulls on his magic again, your face explodes in his mind, illuminated with little points of light. The picture is clearer than it was, sharper, in his mind you smile and that unnamed power flares again amplifying his magic.

“Princess! Answer me!”

“Loki?”

**

You hear him call for you, not from outside but inside your mind. Like he’s right there whispering in your ear, his chest to your back, his arms around you.

“Princess! Answer me!”

“Loki?”

“Princess! Where are you?”

“I...I...m in a cave somewhere. P-Please, it’s so cold.” Your teeth chatter so hard you feel like you could slice off a bit of your tongue.

“Princess,” It really feels like he’s here with you. He’s close, and warm. He smells like leather and lightning and his arms make you feel like everything is going to be okay. “Princess, Listen to me.” You almost feel his breath on the shell of your ear, you shiver and it’s not from cold. “I am coming for you.”

**

There are no caves around, just flat land and trees, but the land juts up in the distance, the flat lands give way to rocky hills, that might be where you are.

“Thor! Those hills!” He points. “Spread out, search for a cave, she’s in a cave!”

“Aye!”

“Princess we’re coming.”

He waits for you to respond, but he hears nothing. “Princess! Do you hear me?!”

“Leav-ve me a-alone!”

**

You strain to hear more of Loki, to keep him as near you as you can manage, but you just can’t keep your eyes open, you’re freezing, and hurting and so very tired. Just a moment's rest, you bargain with yourself, just a moment, and when you wake up, Loki will be here and you’ll be safe.

Cephalus nudges your head with his nose, snorting in distress.

Don’t sleep mistress, you can’t.

“Well, well, well boys. Looka here.”

This voice comes from outside and it doesn’t hold you, it shoves you. A booted foot kicks you in the stomach, sending you sprawling and startling Cephalus to stand.

“Whatcha got there?”

You’re too groggy to count them, but your fuzzy mind can guess who they are.

Highwaymen.

“Fellas.”

“Hey!” A lighter feminine voice protests.

“Al’right Fellas plus one . Looks like we found some fun in all this shitty snow. You look like you’re from the palace. Whatcha doin’ so far from ‘ome love?”

“Leav-ve me a-alone!”

You know how to take a hit. And if you weren’t exhausted, frozen, and generally still recovering from almost dying a few months ago you could take hits far heavier than that, but your ribs sting like they’re broken and it’s very hard to breathe.

They mock the chattering noises you make, laughing. Cephalus nudges you, reminding you he’s still here and he can help. Strangers would make a normal horse skittish and jumpy, Cephalus stands still, his reins at your hand. You could mount and bolt but they’ve come in from the outside blocking the entrance to the cave and Loki’s coming for you, you have to stay put.

“Leave ‘er alone she says. But you look so cold madam. We could warm you up. For a price.”

The bandits snicker and move closer to you, hemming you deeper into the cave.

“Your horse alone looks like he’s worth a fortune. Hand me the reins and whatever else fancy you got and we’ll let you snuggle up next to--”

“One of us!”

“To our fire.” The leader corrects.

Cephalus neighs his answer and you agree.

“No.”

They laugh harder.

Then they reach for their swords.

**

He doesn’t understand your sudden refusal, you were just begging for his help. He calls for you again, pulling hard on his magic, the strings starting to fray and the picture of you in his head gets dimmer until it blows out.

“Princess?”

He can’t see you anymore but he feels you, he feels your deadly terror before it winks out completely and the connection is severed. You are cut off from him, it feels more like your cut out of him, excised from his heart. He screams your name, your terror is now his.

“Princess!”

He needs to find you. Now! He breaks away from his brother and the rest, kicking his horse into a blind run. The hills grow larger and closer, the snow makes it hard to see, the wind impedes carried sound, but he needs neither to find you. Whether it’s the bracelet he’s cued into or just that power leading him to you, he doesn’t know, doesn’t care.

He has to find you.

**

Terror melts the ice in your limbs, makes your heart and mind race. Cephalus is calm and steady, his presence a reassurance.

That you won’t be fighting alone.

It is a mark of pride for one of your warriors to mount their horse in seconds and a warrior never forgets.

You have not forgotten.

You shout and Cephalus swings his heavy neck, the momentum enough to help you into the stirrup and your leg over on the other side of his body. A man dashes forward, sword flashing even in the thick darkness of the cave.

“High!” You shout and Cephalus rears, a mighty hoof striking your attacker just under his chin. 2000 pounds of angry, protective horse catching a man in the face. The bottom half of his skull shatters and he is dead before he hits the ground.

Someone screams, Cephalus screams, another bandit slashes at him, drawing a long red stripe of pain across the horse’s shoulders and neck. You pull his reins hard right and turn Cephalus’s body to create room between you and them.

Had you a halberd, this would be over in seconds. One good swing and you can take more than one head. But the heir of Crimson Rabbit is a weapon in his own right, as he turns he flicks his long tail in the face of the next closest assailant, blinding her long enough for him to swing fully around, kick his out his back leg, and cave the woman’s chest in.

Arms are around your thighs and ankles, pulling, you feel like your leg is going to dislocate from the joint. Another pair of hands reach for Cephalus’s reins to control him, he’s still worth far more alive than you are.

So while Cephalus kicks and screams, struggling with the man trying to pull you off him, you give the other man exactly what he wants. You let go of the reins, throw them forward, and they’re long enough to miss his hands and wrap around his neck.

“Rear!”

Cephalus obeys even as the arms reaching for you get a good hold and pull. As he rears up, you are torn from the saddle and the man wrapped in the reins is yanked forward until he looses his balance and falls to the ground.

Right under Cephalus’s hooves.

There’s only one left and he’s got you, pulled you out of the saddle and into the dirt. There’s no time to scream, you don’t have a weapon. You can’t fight a sword in silks it’ll tear through you, one clean cut, messy with blood, right in half.

Cephalus tries to kick the corpse off his his forelegs while kicking with his back hoping to catch the last attacker with a deathblow to the back of the head. But he’s out of range. He’s going to stab you before Cephalus can here, it’s too quick, the fight is over and done in seconds and you’re the last one to die.

He’s too quick.

The magic is too quick.

Green lightning strikes the man in the back and he falls forward, almost crushing you under him.

“Princess!”

.....I’m so sorry

[dothewrite]

Ringleaders - Chapter Two.

Here is the original ask for this prompt. Here is the announcement for this project!

Prologue. Chapter One. Chapter Three. 

He’s been called many things in his short years of life- Kuroo is very tempted to start a list of the aliases and accusations that have been leveled at him for the past few years because they’ve definitely piled up along with an extensive bullet-pointed page of all his issues.

‘Vigilante’ made him laugh, ‘thug’ made him shrug, and ‘troublemaker’ made him grin. Tonight’s one of the thug nights, the streets seem to be teeming more and more with misguided youths and corrupt gangs, clashing in the atmospheric district of the water sewage system.

It’s their regular feeding grounds, but the term ‘turf’ caught on faster than intended. They have several in their keeping, thanks to the meticulous efforts of Kenma’s infallible surveillance, and it’s Kuroo’s job to pick them out by hand, plucking them from a spreadsheet like eggs. The area, and the feed. The water sewage is one of the roughest ones- a humid, harsh contrast between antiseptic and an honest stink of fermenting shit, it functions as a satisfactory lair for kids who can take the most from life- an interesting form of the crème de la crème. They’re found without much difficulty, hovering around in their small boy scout-sized campfire meetings, waiting for unsuspecting prey to come by. It frustrates Kuroo significantly to see such faulty planning, but he’s thankful for at least being better at something than the average population- and well, if they were all his caliber, they wouldn’t need him anymore.

He approaches, lies in wait, and pounces at the opportune moment.

“Kids,” he calls out to them in his usual slick, unassuming voice, and it doesn’t surprise him in the least when at least three of them jump to their feet at the insult, “is this really the place to be on a Wednesday night? What would your mothers say?”

“She doesn’t give a fuck ‘cus she’s six feet under,” one of the shorter ones snap at him, patting his baseball bat  against his twitching forearm, “and I don’t think yours will mind after I finish in her.”

“Damn, is that the way to talk to a stranger?”

“Get the fuck off our land if you know what’s good for you,” and Kuroo stays exactly where he is. “The fuck are you anyway?”

He owes Oikawa a hearty thanks for forcing him to put up signs in this shithole too. Kuroo jerks his head over at one of the large vinyl sheets hanging from a railing. It’s smeared with crap, messed over with amateur graffiti, but it’s their ad nonetheless. Kuroo thinks it’s a small mercy that it hasn’t been torn off the banister and used as either a toilet or a sleeping mat yet. Such are the troubles of advertising in waste recycling.

“Are you boys angry about something? Making a point, maybe? Or is just this, y’know,” Kuroo waves a hand at them ambiguously, drawing large flippant circles in the air, “a really exclusive book club meeting? I’ve got suggestions.”

The boy with the baseball bat starts forward with a repulsive scowl on his face, hands gritty from too little washing and Kuroo can catch the dim, maroon patches staining the bat- not a beginner then, but a veteran of sorts. He watches carefully as the boy advances, the way his foot is placed solidly in front of the other at a good spread roughly the width of his shoulders, and he knows that if it comes down to it, it isn’t going to be such an easy fight. Kuroo flips part of his long, black trench coat to one side, and readies his fists for a difficult lesson.

A second boy suddenly steps in and Kuroo recognizes him as one of the kids in the back who’d said not a word the entire time. His eyes are wide, yet narrowed, but his lip is bruised enough to show that he’d recently been beat up, and he hadn’t gone easy with the lip chewing either. The boy with the bat almost swings it right into the kid’s face out of surprise when a small hand suddenly grips his arm and holds him back.

“What- the shit d’you think you’re-“

“I’ve seen you around,” the kid speaks quickly, eyes darting to and from Kuroo’s face, “they talked about you a lot- the old group I was with, but then they got swallowed up and I ‘aint heard from them since.”

Kuroo watches impassively. His organization doesn’t run a boarding school for misunderstood children, gathering letters to their parents to mail off every Sunday night. If teenagers are shit with communication, then they’re shit with communication. He clicks his tongue, and tells him so.

“Just sounds like he’s not that into you, kid.”

The kid bristles, looks like he’s about to spit something, but holds himself back. Good, Kuroo ticks a box in his head, self-control is always a good sign of potential. The kid turns to stare at their banner again, still vaguely legible underneath the layers of grime and filth.

“You’re with them, aren’t you?”

Kuroo nods. “That’s right.”

The eyes turn back on him again, and Kuroo keeps himself still, expecting the examination to come. Almost greedily, the kid swallows up the look of his face, tattooing it into his memory, and then the gaze travels lower, to his clothes, still cleaner than the rest of them combined despite the holes and tears, and finally they rest on the watch he wears. It’s the only thing relatively expensive on him- watches are such a pain to buy duplicates of- and for a second, the kid’s face turns hungry.

“We don’t hand out membership watches, sorry,” Kuroo drawls, his eyes not leaving the teen for a moment, “but you do get a goodie bag. Maybe a few more bonuses if you’re…” he pauses, roving his gaze over their makeshift campfire and sleeping bags, “living here permanently for the foreseeable future.”

“So you bribe your kids, huh?” The baseball bat guy speaks up from his frozen position, eyes blazing as if he’s finally caught something he can sell. “What difference are you from thugs then?”

“Pot, kettle,” Kuroo says, an eyebrow raised, “and you don’t get cash. You get to live somewhere else other than the fucking sewers, and maybe a nice, new, shiny bat for you. I’d say that’s an improvement from the whole lot of nothing you’ve got.” He pauses to let them gaze around morosely at their meagre belongings, torn between pride and disappointment, and soon the gazes drape themselves back over him like a leech to skin. “Look, I’m not going to waste my time here. It stinks, and it’s getting way past my bedtime, so.” This time he’s the one who takes a step forwards, and all the kids take one back. Eyes wide, to his enraptured audience Kuroo Tetsurou cuts an intimidating figure of a savior in this mess of reality. “You can all read. Banner. I’m just here to deliver. If you want something better, if you’re angry at the world like all teens should be, we can show you what it really looks like; lemme warn you, it’s going to be uglier than your little field trip here, so you decide if it’s worth it. You get a trial period of one week, then you make your choice. If you lot want to sleep here for the next six months until some gang picks you up and buys your virgin asses for a few twenties and a line of crack, then go ahead. I’ll pretend I spent my evening at home with some popcorn and lotion. If not,” he leans forward to close the height gap between him and the group of misfits. “If not, then you pack up your shit, and you come with me. Ride’s arriving in ten, so you better hurry the fuck up.”

They fucking scram. Baseball boy is the first one to jump into action, his face as bitter and sour as it had been ten minutes ago, but his feet are scrambling for purchase against the slippery tarp of a makeshift flooring, and the kid that had spoken up first follows in a close second. They don’t have much to begin with, scraps of what they had brought with them from a long abandoned-home; they were the ones that meant it, the ones who weren’t afraid of a little suffering. Kuroo knew better than most that most kids nowadays ran away for the shits and giggles, the romanticism of modern day movies and TV shows making it sound like the Sound of Music in the fields, but it wasn’t. Reality was sewage, dirt, weeks of not showering and a never-ending burn of rage for something inexplicable that kept them alive, kept them burning from the inside. These kids knew what shit was like, and they were exactly the type of people Kuroo needed.

He hadn’t moved from his position at all, spine still ramrod straight and he waits patiently as the kids line up one by one, tossing filled packs into each other’s arms like a well-oiled factory line, and he can’t quite hide his grin.

“Nothing quite like some youthful vigour,” he murmurs under his breath as he counts the total number of heads that are in a somewhat organized bundle in front of him. There’s nothing left behind, only the strips of ripped cloth and the embers of a once searing fire from abandoned wooden planks torn from buildings. There’s no eagerness in anyone’s eyes. Just a grim determination, a threat that if Kuroo didn’t deliver, there’d be hell to pay. It was a good look, and he was more than willing to take that risk.

“Let’s go,” one of the rougher looking kids barks, head twisting around carefully to see if there were any threats nearby. Kuroo wonders if their movement would possibly offend someone. “Where’s your ride?”

“Here in three,” Kuroo grins, and with a slow turn of his heel, he spins around and starts to head back out onto the open street, “let’s not get our panties in a twist, ladies.”

The wave of irritation almost bowls him over from behind, but Kuroo takes no heed, braving the onslaught of muttered profanities and the scuffing of feet in stride. He feels rather like a mother duckling, leading all her shitty litter into the world of scary monsters and nightmares. However, dealing with anyone younger than 20 would be someone else’s job, Kuroo thanks the lord for it every day, because he’s patient, and then there’s saintly. There’s only one person he knows that could be capable of such righteousness in the face of the inscrutable evil of children- and ‘lo and behold! Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

A great, hulking van not too different from those kept by kidnappers in movies, rolls up with astounding quiet in front of their odd huddle by the pavement. Kuroo’s the closest, so he gets a face full of a grim, fatherly smile that doesn’t quite reach the edges of a weary mouth, but there’s no mistaking the complicated joy in those eyes at the sight of more younglings. The door slams wide open, banging so hard against its hinges that even Kuroo flinches.

“Dude,” Kuroo groans, and Sawamura Daichi pops his head out from the darkness, grinning.

“It’s the highlight of my day,” comes the smooth reply, “don’t spoil it for me.”

“Take them and leave.” Kuroo huffs, and Daichi laughs like Santa Claus, beckoning for the group of budding troublemakers into the creepy endlessness of the black van.

“Right. C’mon, up and in. There’s enough room for everyone, so don’t step on each other like animals. Yes, I know it’s dark, shut up and bear it.”

All in all, Kuroo thinks that for a group of rebellious youths and broken people, it’s not too terrible of a welcoming ceremony. The kids look rather horrified at what looks like Nietzsche’s abyss in the depths of the vehicle from hell, but they file in one after the other, their bags gripped tightly in whitened fists, and all the while Daichi watches them like a hawk, ready to bark at any misdemeanor.

There isn’t, and the van door closes shut with a much softer click and a twinkle of brown eyes. Kuroo’s almost tempted to wave a handkerchief just for theatrics, but he manages to keep his hands in his pockets and part with a solemn looking nod before heading back the way he’d come.

Now for the truly terrible part.

Considering that they have hundreds of people at their disposal, some who’d find this task a reprieve, even, there’s something especially sadistic of Oikawa to make him take down the banners by hand. The catch was that it wasn’t all of them, just the ones that need replacing- the ones with the most actual shit on them and Kuroo won’t feel clean for days after touching them. He supposes that if anyone’s to blame, it’d be himself for putting an actual demon in charge of delegation. Nobody was safe from Oikawa’s displeasure or whims, not even the leader himself.

Pulling on supermarket-bought latex gloves that does absolutely nothing for his peace of mind, Kuroo starts to peel off the parts where shit’s crusted and has stuck the banner to the metal banisters.

Kuroo believes he deserves a break after such a commotion, but coincidence shakes her head.

He meets her again, despite all odds.

She’s in one piece this time, but the grime has rubbed off on her and Kuroo is forcibly reminded of a sewage rat, scrabbling to reach the surface. The place is empty for the two of them; the last of the chatter faded along with the view of Sawamura’s van, and he can hear the echo of his footsteps several seconds prior still ringing against the large metal tins of water waste.

“Hey,” he says.

It comes out louder than he expects, but too fascinated with her response, the feeling barely registers to him. He also deserves the disbelieving look on her- it really was a rather lame greeting.

Her responding nod is slow but contemplative, and Kuroo vaguely realizes that it’s reminiscent of two predators outlining their boundaries before agreeing to mutual existence. Funny, because the way she walks, she’s too comfortable, and if he had to put an animal to it, it would be a garden mouse, unaware of its short life.

Why does he always have to be the one to speak first? “You’re not mute, are you?” Kuroo snorts, but shrugs at the lack of response. She hasn’t even tensed up, and it shoots a spark up his spine, not in a good way. “Better for you that you aren’t. At least someone might hear you if you scream here.”

“Will you?” Her voice is a tumultuous wave in the dead of winter, and it crashes against Kuroo’s solid steel, leaving him winded. He watches with rapt attention as her lips morph to form further words and he realizes that he doesn’t want to hear one more word in that terrible timbre. “Will you do something to make me scream?”

“That’s what she said,” he grins, but it’s weak and her face so unmoving that it cracks at his core- he is laid bare before a sea of words and none of them he can choose. A small smile creeps its way onto her impassive cheeks and it is a decision between beauty and calamity in the first intake of breath.

Kuroo hates himself in that moment for being so fucking melodramatic.

“You picked up a group of kids here earlier, right?” She’s asking him and he feels stupid for feeling as if she lorded something over him, even for a few moments. She couldn’t know anything. He’d barely seen her around.

“That depends on who’s asking,” he answers, a hand sliding back into his pocket.

She shrugs, and it seems oddly casual for someone who looks so stern, who stands so painfully straight. Her figure droops down to something more human as she moves along to the remains of the kid’s miniature bonfire earlier and traces unintelligible patterns with the ashy remains. “I know someone in that rag-tag band.” Her head rises and he’s stuck; she might as well have wrapped him in chains and he wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference. “I’ve heard of your group.”

Kuroo gives the banner in his hands a little wiggle. Her smile grows.

“Tell me about it, please.”

“We have a website, you know,” he raises an eyebrow. “FAQ page and all.”

She laughs! Kuroo never wants to live through another one of those, and his jaw unclenches like a wounded animal when it stops. “There’s no reception here,” she comments.

“There isn’t,” he agrees.

Another sound agrees too, a violent holler not too far off that fills the air with purpose and even though Kuroo’s not too imaginative of a guy, he can see the police dogs ripping into his flesh right next to the sewage treatment. He shoots her a sharp glance, and although it takes her a few more seconds to realize than he does, her nod is serious and urgent. Although they’re two people with their own purposes, it won’t make the slightest difference to the cops. Handcuffs don’t just phase through your skin because you don’t think you’ve done anything wrong.

“There’s no reception,” Kuroo grits through his teeth and moves to weave his way through the maze of shit water. He can hear her footsteps right behind him, and he can’t be fucked to suppress the spike of irritation at that. He can feel the wind against his palm as he reaches behind for her arm and misses. Twice.

“I’m not going to fucking break you,” he snaps, and he reaches for her again. When he finally feels her wrist against his fingers, he pulls, hard, and tugs her beside him; their steps match each other in a twisted pattern. “Run behind people and you’re going to get hit one day.”

“That must come from a lifetime of looking over your shoulder.” She sounds utterly flippant, and he considers tripping her over and leaving.

“Says the one who beats thugs up in alleys in her spare time- seriously, what the fuck’s up with that? I can tell you don’t do it for fun.”

“I’m used to looking after my younger brother, he gets into all sorts of trouble.”

Kuroo notices that although he’s doing perfectly fine vaulting over railings and hurtling down unknown paths like a man on fire, she barely has a hitch to her breath as she speaks too.

“That must be some ‘looking after’,” he says, “from what it looked like, you were more of a guard dog than a sis.”

She shrugs- they’re at full sprint and she’s fucking shrugging- and Kuroo holds back a spiteful ‘are you for real?’ between terse lips. What the hell is she doing, floating? And he’s definitely not looking at her chest to see her rate of breathing. Not at all. “He gets pissed off when I show up around him. So I do what I can.”

“You’re damn insane,” he laughs, remembering how each time he’d come by her, there had never been fewer than three other fully grown men around. “You should just lock your brother up if he can’t keep his big boy pants on.”

“Funny,” she grins, “that’s what I tell him, but it doesn’t seem to sit well.”

He’s seen kids like her little brother all over town, they’re a dime a dozen with a special buy one get one free edition. It’s not really their fault when the whole city’s lost its mind, who were the lost young things supposed to look up to? If anything they’re like rodents, attracted by large, flashing lights and shiny things, and boom, you get several dead kids each night on the streets. Kuroo’s had his fair share of delinquents. Her, however- he turns his head just a fraction to catch her out of the corner of his eye- she’s as freakish as she is a mystery, but it soothes him to find that she’s human enough to stumble over a stray pipe as she runs.

The barking and the shouting seems to be fading with each strain of his muscles, and for once, he’s grateful for the pure amount of crap the city generates that warrants such a forest of pipes and containers. It’s an eyesore that’s out of the way of the main city system, and its isolation helps the smell diffuse into the suffering trees around it. Kuroo taps furiously at his phone, refreshing his message every three seconds until even just a single bar of connection pops up, and by the time it does, they’re at the edge of the system and he throws a hunted look behind him before shoving his phone back into his pocket.

He props himself up with his palms against his knees to grab more than a mouthful of oxygen and she’s pressing a hand firmly against her ribs to make sure they’re still rising at a normal speed.

“Got a ride home?” He asks before he can stop himself, and his face pinches when she glances at him with growing amusement.

“I’ll be alright, thank you,” she grins again, and this time Kuroo catches it in full underneath the caustic orange of lamplight. It’s better on his nerves than her laugh, at least, but it settles something uncomfortable underneath his skin regardless.

He fingers his phone awkwardly in his pants and pulls it out abruptly when he realizes how odd it must look. A blush doesn’t quite make it to his face, but undoubtedly there’s a frustrated pinch to his brows that he hasn’t felt since high school. “You can uh, go back, or whatever. We should be good for now.”

She mimics his usual stance, cool, confident and all to masculine and cocks her head to one side. Kuroo feels like he’s underneath a surgery light, scrutinized and picked apart into organs, all until she smiles. That one’s all her.

“I’ll wait for your ride to show,” she inclines her head towards his phone with odd grace and an even odder twitch to her lips, “it’s dangerous out here alone at night.”

“Right, fuck you.”

She laughs, and Kuroo shivers again. He’s going to hear that in his dreams at night with how rippling and bottomless it sounds, and it doesn’t stop even when Sawamura’s van shows up again and shocks him out of his socks with that infernal slam of the door.

There’s not a word exchanged between the two grown men except for a very blank look, and a very accusing one. Kuroo listens for Sawamura sliding back into the driver’s seat, but hesitates for a second too long before closing the door behind him. It is, however, long enough to catch the last of her words before they both take off in opposite directions.

“I’ll see you at school, Kuroo.”

The ride back to headquarters is silent, and if Sawamura notices the bitter expression on Kuroo’s face, he doesn’t ask. And Kuroo doesn’t offer.

[mellicose]

Learning Love

A David Tennant Holiday Fic Request Winner

Fandom: David Tennant, Campbell Bain, Takin’ Over the Asylum

Word count: 5260

Warnings: none

Summary: Campbell and Sandra have now been seeing each other for 6 weeks. As what started as a tryst quietly turns into something more, circumstances push them into confessing how they really feel.

The phone didn’t ring even once in her ear before he answered.

“Dee!”

She chuckled at his nickname for her. “You’re quick on the draw today.”

“I wanted to hear your voice.”

“I’m about to take a long bath. Would you like to hear me then?”

Long bath was code for water masturbation.

He exhaled. “I’m at work, sugar. I don’t think I could handle it.”

“That’s too bad.”

He put the phone against his chest and bit his lip. “I’m so sorry we can’t do anything special tonight. I mean, really, truly sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. You’re doing what you have to do get ahead. If it means anything, I’m proud of you. Anyway, I’m not the rose petals and cheap chardonnay type.”

“What is it with you and holidays? You refuse to embrace the magic. Scrooge.”

She growled. “Bah humbug! Cupid can eat it.”

“Call me cupid,” he said.

“Don’t make it harder, Cam.”

“Too late.” He chuckled in her ear. She held her cell in front of her and screamed silently. He was so fucking everything.

“Enough double entendre for today. I guess I’ll see you…”

“Tomorrow morning? I don’t want to wait ‘till dinner. Breakfast foods are the best foods anyway.”

“True. Until tomorrow then. I lo-” She froze.

“You what?” His voice had lost all mirth.

She was sweating. “I look forward to it,” she said.

“Alright. Bye.” He hung up.

She slid to the floor and rolled around, hugging herself. She’d almost said it. Fuck.

Fuck.

With the way the relationship had started, she had promised herself that she would keep it casual. They had never discussed it explicitly in the last month, and why not? They spent nearly every free moment together. 

For her, though, it was becoming for more than spectacular, earth axis-shifting sex. She was beginning to…

She didn’t even want to think it. Why set herself up for a fall?

“We’re having fun. And we’re gonna have fun tonight,” she said, getting up and taking a deep breath. “Good fun.” She smiled.

7:00 PM

“Tonight is the night. The most romantic night of year, when you can show that special someone all the ways you care...

The Flamingos sha bop sha bopped in the background.

“And I’m here to help you share. I’ll be here ‘till midnight taking sexy song requests. Let your lover know just how well they do the voodoo that they do…”

He rattled off the telephone number and looked over the console at the producer. He picked through a heart shaped box of chocolates Cam had brought him. He shook his head. That giant, bearded ginger was who he would be spending the first Valentine’s Day that he actually had someone to celebrate with.

He looked at the inside of his wrist, where Sandra had put a temporary tattoo of a heart with an arrow through it as a gag. He rubbed his thumb on it.

She was amazing. Clever, talented, beautiful, and she actually laughed at his jokes. Consistently. Most importantly, his energy didn’t put her off. In fact, it seemed to bask in it, an odd thing, since she was so calm. He tended to get on calm people’s nerves.

His t-shirt smelled like her, since she’d worn it the last time she stayed over at his flat. Perfume, and her, very faint. The musk that made his muscles tighten to attention.

The producer’s console began to blink with incoming calls.

Time to get to work.

10:52 PM

It was beginning to drag. He felt like he could take off from his chair into the stratosphere with unspent energy.

“-Um, yah, there’s this bird, Kim. I mean, super fit, who loves your show so I know she’ll be listenin’.”

“Thanks for listening, Kim! And what would you like to say to her?”

“Nuffin’ much. Just that I’m here if she ever needs a real man to take her there. Can you play Color Me Badd, I Wanna Sex You Up?”

He rolled his eyes. “Kim, I hope you heard that, and that you hear this…”

He got up and stretched, then walked to the producer’s booth.

“What a twat,” the producer said. He was working on a strawberry cream chocolate.

“You said it so I don’t have to,” Cam said. “I thought this would be fun, but I’m about to explode.”

The producer eyed him. “Then explode in another direction, mate,” he said. His console blinked.

Campbell walked back to his console and looked out the window. Out there, people were having fun. Drinking wine. Dancing. Doing all the sappy shit he wanted to do. Although Sandra made such a big deal about not needing that kind of thing, maybe he could change her mind-

The producer put the next call through.

“Who’s on your mind tonight?”

“I’m sad because I can’t be with my valentine.” Sandra! He smiled so hard he wondered if she could hear it.

“And why on earth wouldn’t he be there with you?”

“My man works long and hard to get where he wants to be. How could I fault him for that?” Why did it sound dirty? Maybe it was because it was her. And he wanted her.

“He sounds like a very lucky man.” There was silence on the line.

“Can you play Suzanne Vega’s Caramel for me, please?”

“Caramel,” he repeated dumbly. The producer rolled his eyes. “Of course, after a short commercial break.”

He ran to the booth again, but the producer shrugged his shoulders.

“She hung up.”

“Fuck. I have to drain the lizard. I’ll be back,” Cam said, and ran into the hallway.

Someone knocked on the booth glass almost immediately after.

“That was quick-” when he turned, it was a beautiful young woman in a short trench coat.

“Who are you?”

She came inside and immediately started to separate the pages of an old tabloid paper. She slammed a roll of tape in front of him. “I’m Cam’s girl. Start taping.” She put the first colored rectangle against the glass. He looked at her high heels, her loose, tousled hair and duochrome mauve lipgloss and took over without a word.

At least one of them was getting laid tonight.

He ran into the broadcast room and into his seat just in time.

“That was Suzanne Vega’s Caramel. Something sweet for the man who works hard for the money.” He tugged on his shirt and smirked.

He looked toward the producer’s booth and it was covered in shitty tabloid.

“What the hell-”

“Cam,” a familiar voice said from a dark corner of the room. She stood and walked into the desk lamp light. It was Sandra, looking good enough to eat. “Surprise,” she said in a whisper. “Now get to work.” She nudged the microphone near his mouth. She walked around and sat on the edge of the desk. She wore a trench coat, and her legs were deliciously bare as far up as he could see.

She pointed the the blinking buttons. “I want to watch you,” she said. Again, her tone made him twitch.

He pressed the button, but his eyes didn’t leave her form. “We’re coming up against the last hour. What’s on your mind tonight, lover?”

She laughed quietly.

“Um, hello?”

“Hello. I’m all ears. Talk to me,” Cam said. She walked behind him and tickled his neck just below his giant earphones. He bit back a giggle.

“Okay. Right. Um, I’ve...I really like...a woman. Who I work with.”

She leaned into him. Her hair tickled his arm. She made a face. Awkward.

“Office romance. Nice. And what’s her name?”

“She’s beautiful. Oh, her name’s Preethi.”

Sandra started to untie her sash slowly. It was agonizing.

“And would you like to say anything special to Preethi tonight?”

“Oh. Yeah. Just that…”

Her trench coat fell open. She wore a purple minidress that would make a stripper blush. His lip wobbled.

“...she’s smart and lovely and I would very much like to take her out sometime.”

“Do you have a song you’d like me to play?”

“You can pick it. Thank you,” the man said and hung up.

She lifted an earphone so she could whisper in his ear. “So awkward, bless him. Play Bryan Adams’ Everything I Do. It fits.”

“Whatever the lady wants,” he said, and cued it up. “What are you doing here?”

She gently bit his earlobe. “I couldn’t stay away. And I figured you might not want to be alone tonight. So I’m here to keep you company.”

“And Teddy?” He spoke of the producer.

She walked around and sat on the desk again. She kicked off her shoe and put her bare foot in his lap. It traveled slowly up his thigh. “He and I have an agreement.” She leaned forward. Her breasts nearly spilled out of the dress. He stirred underneath her kneading foot. “If he says he didn’t see anything, he didn’t see anything.”

“And what would he not be seeing?” She put her other foot on the armrest of his chair and spread her legs. Pearl colored mesh was being swallowed by her swollen cunt lips.

“Fuck.” He put his hand on her calf, pulled himself closer. She pulled gently at her underwear, giving him a quick glimpse, then slid that finger into his mouth. “Shit,” he said, licking his lips.

“Song’s ending,” she said. He turned reluctantly to the microphone. Her foot moved underneath his t-shirt and poked his belly. He bucked and giggled. “Ooh. Ticklish.”

“Ooh. Ladies and gentlemen, all of a sudden I’m feeling inspired-” She pinched his nipple between her toes. “Who’s in love tonight?”

Go slow he mouthed.

She fell to her knees and went underneath the desk.

He took the next call. “Are you in love tonight?”

Sandra tickled his knees. He had to stifle a giggle. He gently slapped her hands.

“Yeah. Like, um, completely. With my best friend.” the caller sounded young.

She has a doll voice, Sandra mouthed at him as she tickled his sides underneath his shirt.

“Sometimes friendships can be a jumping off point for something... amazing.” He put his hand over his mouth. He trembled with laughter.

“She’s beautiful and kind and funny and talented and smart and I just can’t hold back anymore. I don’t know whether you’re listening Amanda, but there’s a reason why I didn’t go to the graduation dance with Daniel. I wanted to go with you. I know we play around a lot, but the fact is I’m in love with you, completely, totally, and I don’t care who doesn’t like it. You fill my heart with joy, you make me so happy…” her breath hitched, as if she were about to weep.

Sandra stopped tickling. They locked eyes for a few precious seconds. She felt exposed.

“I can’t top that. You’ve said it all, and so beautifully too. Is there a particular song you’d like me to play?”

“I don’t care. I just wanted to say it to the world. I love you, Mandy.” She hung up.

Sinatra. I’ve Got You Under My Skin, she mouthed to him. Trust me.

For some reason, she felt as if the wind had been taken out of her sails. This girl, still so young...but so brave. She told everyone. She didn’t care about the possibility of things not going her way. She just wanted to say it. She actually gloried in her love, even if it was not returned.

Music flooded the broadcast room. “May I have this dance?” He pushed the chairs aside and extended his hand. She smiled and walked into his arms.

He pressed his body close to her swayed back and forth. The look in his eyes made her heart hurt.

“I don’t think this is what Teddy expected to see through the gaps in that paper,” she said.

“Did you want to give him a show?” he said, twirling her close to his body in the limited space.

“I just wanted to be with you,” she said, glad she wasn’t facing him.

He turned her and tipped her chin up to look into her eyes. “Me too. Every day. All the time.” He barely pressed his lips against hers, then moved back to the console.

She pulled her skirt down and sat by him.

“We’re coming up hard against the midnight hour. You’re our lucky last caller. What’s on your mind tonight?”

“Hello? This is Amanda. From the last call?”

Cam and Sandra looked at each other, eyes wide. It was on.

“Hello, Amanda-”

She cut him off. “Candace, please answer your phone. I love you, baby, but I didn’t want to say anything to ruin our friendship. I want to be with you, Candy. Call me. Come over. Anything. I’m at home. Please.”

“Oh wow, we’re witnessing romantic history, folks,” he said. “Real life.”

“I know how hard it must be. You’re a preacher’s daughter. But I’ll protect you. We’ll show them love is love, together. Oh, God. I hope she’s okay...”

The console blinked. Teddy’s voice came through the intercom. “It’s Candace. You should take this. It’s gold. The canned tunes can wait.”

Holy shit, Sandra mouthed. Go on.

“Candace, love. Amanda’s all ears. You’ve got the floor.”

There was a couple of seconds of silence. “Amanda.” She was whispering. “My mom heard. They’ve locked me in my room. But they didn’t take my cell.” They could actually hear voices raised in the distance.

“Candy, I’ll come and get you right now-”

“No. I’m safe. They would never hurt me. This day was coming. I’m going to let them yell themselves out. When they realize yelling and demands don’t change anything, then we’ll talk like people. Until then, we may not be able to see each other. Is that okay?”

“But they are hurting you by not accepting it.” Amanda sniffled.

“You’ve been in my life for almost three years, Mandy. Had Sunday dinner at my house. Gone to the church picnics. You know it’s not that easy. Their world has shifted. They’re going to need time to adjust. And I love them, so I want to give them that time.”

“But what if they never do?”

“They’re not that kind. At least, I sincerely pray they are not. But, regardless, can I count on you to understand?” The sound of yelling faded to nothing. There was just her distressed breathing.

“Yes. Of course. Whatever you need.”

“Okay.” Someone knocked on her door so loud it made Sandra and Campbell jump in their chairs. Candace. Darling. Open the door. We need to talk. The mother’s voice came through loud and clear. “Mandy, I’ve gotta go. But I love you. This too shall pass, right?” Her voice trembled.

“I love you.” Amanda sniffled.

“Bye.” Candace whispered, then they both hung up.

Campbell pulled up to the mic. He bit his lip, then started talking. “Love has no age limit. You can be 8, or 80. Gender doesn’t matter. Neither does color, creed, race, or religion. It’ll get the bearded imam as well as the political punk rocker woman hanging out in the corner. It could hit you after 10 years, or just after 10 minutes -” he gave Sandra a look that warmed her - “but that doesn’t diminish its power. Time means nothing to it, since it stops time, or makes it move too fast to count…” he sighed. He wasn’t used to extemporizing about serious things. “Love is an act of creation in and of itself. It makes something out of nothing. Makes peace out of chaos…” He ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s a miracle that we sometimes run the danger of taking for granted. Candace, Amanda, I wish you the best of luck. For that matter, I wish all of you out there true love, and the peace that comes from it. Good night.”

Teddy walked into the broadcast room. “That was fucking exciting. Great show, mate.” He averted his gaze when he saw Sandra. She’d forgotten she was half naked. Campbell held up her coat so she could put it on.

“Thanks for giving us a bit of privacy, Teddy,” she said as she tied the sash around her waist.

“Oh, no problem. I promise I didn’t peek.”

“Right,” she said, and smiled at him. He blushed.

“I’ll be on my way, then.” He walked out and closed the door.

Campbell put on his coat and walked her out of the building. She hailed a cab.

“Do you want to come over now? Not wait ‘till the morning?”

“What about Reggie?”

“He’s deep into his third Valentine’s date by now, and not in our flat.”

“Then I’d love to.” He stepped into the cab after her. They sat down, and Campbell took her hand in his. “So, the third date of the night, huh?”

“Reggie is not a believer of monogamy.”

“So the other dudes know about each other, and don’t care?”

“Yep. He’s a juggler, but he’s honest from the jump. It fascinates me what he can get away with. I hope this doesn’t sound sexist, but I often wonder whether it’s a male thing.”

“No offense taken. I’ll speak for myself and say that it sounds like something I’d never want to do. One at a time is plenty.” He squeezed her hand and smiled at her.

“Sure. For now. Just as soon as you get a bit more famous and the high quality trim starts showing up, you might change your mind.” She smiled too hard at him. The words didn’t feel natural. He noticed.

“Trim? You’re something else,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “I’m fairly certain this imaginary influx of radio personality groupies will not change my mind. I like to feel something for the person I’m bedding. Does that make me old-fashioned? Maybe. I don’t care.”

She was glad it was dark in the cab. She was blushing furiously. She felt like a jerk.

She opened the door and let him in, flipping on the switch that turned on the fairy lights she’s taped to wall in swirling patterns that day.

“Ooh, pretty!” he said, bouncing comically and clapping his hands.

“Shut up.” She walked to her kitchenette and opened a bottle of wine. He walked up behind her and pulled her trench coat off, kissing her neck.

“Fuck the wine.” she turned around and kissed him hard, wrapping her leg around his waist. She sucked his lower lip and moaned. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”

“This looks like the good stuff. Why we gotta be in such a hurry? Let’s enjoy these lights,” he said, tucking her hair behind her ear and kissing the tip of her nose.

Had she upset him with her stupid comments earlier?

“Okay. Sure.”

He found two jelly glasses in the mess on the counter and poured, then sat at her coffee table. He looked beautiful in the pale gold light. She stared from the threshold of the living room.

He patted the floor beside him. “Come on. Let’s toast.”

She sat down and raised her glass. “Toast away. You’re the one with the beautiful words.”

“Am I?”

“Absolutely. The only toasts I know are ‘down the hatch’, ‘to your health’, or my personal favorite, ‘to your nipples.’”

He laughed and kissed her lips lightly, an easy gesture that took her breath away. “Okay then. Let me think. To...the miracle of love. It makes something so beautiful out of nothing. Thank you for giving of yourself to me of openly, trusting me.You’ve made these last six weeks the best holiday season I’ve ever had. And I hope there’s much more to come.”

Her eyes filled with tears. She grabbed the jelly glass before he could drink.

“Those girls. They were no more than high school students. But they were so sure. I could hear it in their voice. Children, and they knew. And one a preacher’s daughter to boot. What balls.”

“I felt that too. Brave, the both of them.”

“It won’t be easy for them. Not at first. If they even go through with it.”

“It never is. The world is antagonistic to lovers. To love in general. Them’s the facts,” he said, shrugging.

“It never is,” she repeated. “Campbell, I-”

He squeezed her hands. “You can take your time. I’m here. I’ll wait till you’re ready-”

“I’m in love with you.”

His eyes flashed in the semi-darkness. “Sandra, I-”

She cut him off. “Please let me finish. I know that this started out as a sex thing - and the sex is fanfuckingtastic - but you’ve become so much more to me. You’re so kind, and clever and you seem to follow my weird train of thought without my having to explain myself...and I know what you’ve been through - what you’re going through now - and you will go through until whenever, and I don’t care. I love you. Madly. You’re my muse. I’ve never painted better. At this rate I’ll fill a gallery by June. And it’s okay if you don’t quite feel the same. I don’t care. I want you to know it. Just...stay. I won’t pressure you into anything. I can love enough for the both of us.”

He hugged her, tight, until her breathing slowed.

“Dee,” he said in her ear. “That silly little speech at work. The toast. Isn’t it obvious?”

“What? Reggie’s told me more than once I can’t see the forest for the trees,” she said, straddling him.

“That I’m in love with you. How could I not? You’re my peace. That, and in awe of the way you look at me. I feel...like a proper part of the human race. It’s magic.”

She sniffled and tucked her face into his neck, hugging him tight.

“My brown-eyed girl…” he whispered into her hair. “Let’s go to bed.”

“Do you have candles?” he said.

“Come on, Cam. Do we really need all that?”

She started to take off her dress, but he held her arms down. “I’ll do that. But first, candles. You’re the artsy type. You have to have at least a couple lying around.”

“Gimme a sec.” Reggie had enough candles to light a cathedral. She ran into his bedroom and grabbed an armful of glass candles and dropped them gently on her bed. “Your wish is my command.” She handed him a lighter.

He put them around the bed and lit them. He was an Italian Renaissance beauty of a man, especially around the eyes and nose. Her fingers twitched to draw him in this light.

“I recognize that look,” he said, giving her a crooked grin. “The artist longs for her tools, but she’ll have to wait.”

He knelt in front of her and pulled her dress slowly over her head. She wore a bra to match the pearl mesh panties, but he wanted her naked. His hands moved from her breasts to her hips, and he hooked the panties in his fingers and pulled them off. He bowed his head to her breast and bit gently at the mesh until her nipple stretched it. Then, he sucked it through the cloth, flicking his tongue over it while pinching her other nipple hard. She buried her hands in his thick hair and seeped wetness on her sheets.

He unclasped her bra and took one of her breasts into his mouth, hungrily sucking at her flesh while his tongue swirled on her hardened bud. She unbuttoned his pants and wrapped her hand around him. She sighed at the living weight of him. Somehow, he felt more because he was hers.

He stood and stripped quickly as she scooted back to the pillows and spread enticingly for him.

God, he loved when she did that.

He crawled between her legs and pulled them around his hips. “I just want to kiss you.” He said, and sucked on her lower lip. He nuzzled her neck and kissed down to her clavicle. “Everywhere. In every way.”

“Do it,” she said.

He kissed down to her breasts, just soft little kisses around her hard nipples but never touching. He kissed down the shelf of her ribs, then bit gently at her sides until she giggled and squirmed. He swirled his tongue down to her mound. She spread, but he licked the wetness off her thighs and kissed slowly up each thigh to the knee and back. Her throbbing flesh warmed his cheeks when he got to the fork of her legs, but he resisted the urge to lick her, regardless of her pleading.

“Get on your stomach,” he said. She obeyed quickly. He kissed her instep, then moved up her leg, biting her calf and tickling the back of her knees to watch her ass jiggle with laughter as he spread her legs. He licked, then kissed the little seam between thigh and ass, then bit softly at her jiggling flesh until she moaned into her pillow.

“I thought you said kisses,” she said. Her voice was rough with desire.

“I’m kissing too,” he said, placing a soft kiss on each cheek and moving up to the small of her back. He licked the sweat there and kissed up the valley until he reached her neck. His cock slid easily between her legs and nestled between her pussy lips. She moved her hips, making him groan in her ear.

“Enough teasing. I want you.” She trembled beneath him.

“It’s never enough,” he said and lay beside her. “Come on.” He patted his shoulders. “Knees here.”

“Yes, sir,” she said. She straddled his head and leaned down to his cock, taking him in her mouth. She took his balls in her hand, gently caressing, kneading the tender flesh, then licked them.

“Fuck.”

He tried to lick her, but she held his head in place with her thighs.

“Stop. Lemme have a taste.”

She wiggled her butt. She dripped to his upturned face, but her grip was firm. “I thought there was never enough teasing.” Her broad tongue moved up his shaft, leaving a trail of saliva that she used to jerk him off. She wrapped her lips around the crown of his cock and swirled her tongue until he bucked.

“Please.” His plaintive tone made her giggle into him.

“Ummmmm…” she took him to the back of her throat. The vibration made his toes curl. She slurped up his shaft, then sucked gently at his foreskin. “No.” She played with him, pulling his foreskin back and forth over the crown of his cock with her lips alone. She tasted precum and hummmmmd into him… then got off him.

He tried to scoot down between her legs, but she pulled him up and on top of her. She caressed him and gave him a tender look.

“I want to come with you inside me. Can we do that?”

He grabbed blindly at her night table, where he knew she kept condoms. He ripped the package and nearly fumbled it trying to get it on.

She chuckled. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.” She helped him smooth it on and lay back. “Come here, boy.”

He lay on top of her, but the mood changed. They sank into each each. All she could see was his eyes, lit by flickering candlelight. Warmth rose from her belly to her heart in growing waves as he moved slowly inside her. She was surrounded by him, connected by flesh and feelings.

Is this what people spoke of when they said ‘make love’?

She thought it was a fusty term. Something repressed adults used to avoid saying fuck.

But she was a fool.

It hurt, but in the most beautiful way. A tear actually dripped on her temple, but he kissed it away before it wet her hair. She caressed the hair from his face and saw the light break in his eyes as well.

“Cam...” she kissed him, hard, and soon the cherry sweetness of his saliva was cut by the salt of their mixed tears. They rocked into each other, multiplying each other’s pleasure, breathing each other’s breath, chest to chest until they spun out together. Their shared cries and his bucking brought her back to herself.

They stayed connected and silent for goodness knows how long. When he finally withdrew, she hiccupped and hugged him closer.

“What just happened?”

He still trembled with emotion. “I don’t know, but it was-”

“Love magic. We made love magic.” Her heart still raced in her chest. “Did you feel...connected? Really, connected?”

He nuzzled her cheek.”Yeah. But more. Like we were both connecting to something much bigger.”

“Do you think God exists?”

He chuckled. “This is pretty deep for pillow talk.”

“My mom isn’t very religious, and I’ve never really been interested, but...I felt something, Cam. I swear to you, I did.”

“I hope you did,” he said, kissing her neck. “If not, I’m a failure.”

“Never.” She stared at him as he got out of bed to clean himself and blow out most of the candles. He put on his underwear and sat by her.

“Do you want to draw me now?”

She ran her fingertips down his chest. It was still mottled with sex flush. “No. You, in this moment, are mine and mine alone. I refuse to share.”

He lay beside her, and she kissed the salt from his cheeks and stuck her tongue out. “You cried.”

“I did. This is all new to me. Love, and the making of it.”

“Those fusty adults were keeping secrets,” she said.

“What?” he kissed her shoulder.

“Nothing. Just thinking aloud.” She raised her head to look at him.

“Did it hurt?”

She didn’t need to explain further. “No. I felt full of love, ecstatic. But the knowledge that the feeling would end hurt.”

“Exactly. Everything ends.”

He held her closer. “But it’s okay. We can do it again.” He kissed her. Even his kisses had changed. They were deeper, more tender.

She sat up suddenly. “What time is it?”

“3:20 am. Why?”

“Ooh, just in time!” She rolled out of bed and put on some jeans and a t-shirt.

“Come back here. I’m not done with you yet.”

“We can put a pin in that. But now, we feast.”

“And they said I’m the mad one. What are you talking about?”

She threw his jeans at him. “There is a bakery a couple of blocks away that will open in just 10 short minutes.”

“And?” He was reluctant to get out of bed.

“Yesterday was Valentine’s Day, in which bakeries all over the country make tasty love-themed biscuits, pies, and cakes which they don’t always sell…”

His eyes narrowed. “Ohhh.” He dressed quickly.

They stepped out into an early morning washed clean by rain.

“How did we not even notice?” she said.

He took her hand and waited for her to guide him. “We were extremely distracted. Take me to the treats,” he said.

They walked in silence for several blocks. It was a new thing, but nice. They felt no need to entertain each other. They could exist, and enjoy each other’s existence.

“I love the streets at night after a rain,” she said after a while.

“The streets turn to mirrors,” he said, wrapping his arm around her waist.

She stopped and looked down. “Look at you and I. Just a couple of saps.”

“Naw. The perfect reflection of a happy couple.”

“You do have a way of wording things so much better than I do,” she said, pulling him in for a kiss.

[0225pm]

good morning! it's currently 9:18AM and i'm so damn beat i want to ko already but i'm pooping rn hence i've decided to post something!!!! soOoOoo because i'm an overly attached gf who needs attention like 24/7 i actually went down all the way to han's place because i missed him hahahahahaha like, initially i was contemplating about it because....... 1, i was afraid that he might have fallen asleep 2, he might not be able to leave the house at such timing 3, he might get mad at me for troubling myself before traveling to his place, dayah wanted to meet up after her shift ended for supper and since i haven't really had anything for dinner i thought it was a good idea to fill my tummy first. so i met her at our usual haunt (the mcds near our place) and asked her for some advice about whether i should go over to his place or not. she was rather against it since it was already really late (about 12ish by the time we reached mcds) and even if we're to uber or grab down it will be really really late and she was kinda worried about my wellbeing since his area is rather quiet with little to zero human traffic at such a late timing unlike our area - we have quite a fair bit of shops that are open 24/7. she also said i must be so obsessed with han to the point that i'm willing to travel all the way there so late which tbh is true la hahaha honestly i don't mind traveling anywhere he is, except maybe if i have to buy a plane ticket or smth la bc your girl is broke (；▽；) but anyway i ended up saying fuck it and just decided to go je because i'm gonna make "go je" one of my life mottos now (half kidding about this bc i'm still a coward and i'm forever thinking about the "what ifs"). and booked an uber around 1:45AM almost 2 i guess!! it was considerably cheap!!!! like $9 for the ride after discount. and wah u know how hard it was to try and surprise han HAHAHAHA i was trying to lie my way through to not make him suspicious of me by asking him to play ml together (another tactic to keep him busy so he won't fall asleep!) and then he got a lil mad bc i kept asking him to wait and wait so he played like i think 3 rounds of brawl while waiting for me to come online hahahaha but hoho little did he know!!! during the last round i told him to lemme know when his game was ending and when he finally texted me, i immediately called him and then asked him if he can come out. i'm not sure if he was taken aback bc he said no at first so i asked if his parents were asleep already and he said no LMAO i was soOo shocked but i didn't rly feel disappointed bc i know that was one of the possibility of him not being able leave the house and i actually brought along some things to keep me busy while i wait (my drawing stuff and a book i'm currently reading). then he asked me come out where? if go out he won't able to so i told him to just come down then cus i'm here and he was like "ok u wait there" AND TADA!!!!! my surprise visit was a success???!?!!!?! he asked me what i was doing there while grabbing me into a tight embrace hehehehe he looked genuinely happy and i'm happy too!!!!! he even brushed his teeth (i could smell the mint) before he left the house so that his "breath won't stink" quoted bc that's what he said hahaha lmao so cute rly!!! oh how i've missed him :') 3-4 days felt so longgGgGgg uGhhH and then we walked towards 7-11 cus i told him my breath prolly stinks since i just had macs so i wanted to get some candies to mask the grossness of the spicy nuggets i had hahahaha but he wasn't even bothered and leaned in for a kiss haisSSssssSss i spent a fortune (ok not rly) at 7-11 man like from just wanting to get candies, i ended up getting all sorts of things - a drink, ice cream, an onigiri. the amount u pay for convenience sake :') and then we decide to sit around mccafe and played a round of ml which we lost bc he didn't realised that his data was all out *rolls eyes* HAHAHAHA and then bc we were trying to conserve both our phones battery lives, we decided to stop playing and that was when i could really look at his face sighHh idk how he can look so good all the time wtf meanwhile i look like a kentang (this is true i have gained the weight i lost hahahha but good la this shows that i'm happy right) and then he went on and said "now dunno what to do right cus cannot play ml alr" and i was like nahHhh it's fine and then he looked at me and went all "is it you bored?" and i shook my head hahahah yallllllll idk about him but i don't think there will ever be a time that i will feel bored just looking at his face and basking his in presence sia like i can't get enough hahaha and then he took my phone and went through my camera roll of junk (i have 12k over photos) so i asked him for the password to his phone and he just went like this ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (damn taik rly) so i kept asking again and again and he just ¯\_(ツ)_/¯!!!! and finally said "theres some past stuff i haven't deleted yet not bc i want to keep them for memories but bc i'm lazy and idw u to see them there since it's not deleted" and i was like???? why?????? didn't u delete them???? then????? then he wanted to unlock his phone for me to let me see but i was like nah u kno what i'm not gonna get my feelings hurt bc maybe there are intimate photos inside too so i rather not look at them and he was like "no there's no intimate photos la" but it was like it's ok!!! :) and then i snatched my phone back from him since i felt like it was kinda unfair that he could see all the photos i have with no secrecy. but then he took his phone and went on a "deletion mode" clearing unwanted photos in his phone while showing me photos he had of me in his gallery!!!! i looked so!!! cute wtf HAHAHAHA like there was a few photos where i actually think i look quite cute and which i've never seen before bc he didn't send it to me wah damn selfish keep for himself HAHAHA JKJK but ya most of them were during my blonde/silver hair days tho sighhhh i rly miss having light colored hair tbvvvvh :( and then he gave me the password to his phone!!!!! wowowoow i never knew that such a day would come (no i'm not being loyar buruk ok hahahaahah) and gave me the freedom to look through his phone (but i never did actually hahaahha bc i was busy scrolling thru my 12k worth of photos instead wth i missed my chance!!!!) even when he went outside for a smoke and left his phone with me i didn't even look through his gallery wth so dumb i could have sent the photos to myself!! but ok ya then i wanted to pee so i asked him to accompany me (bc the toilet is the one at the food court and even though it's relatively clean, the atmosphere was still quiet since it was only around 4+AM in the morning). then we walked back to his place and sat at the void deck - he told me stories about his encik at the station and showed me a few diss track videos between some youtubers and this one really cool short stories videos of which i've forgotten the name of, i will have to ask him later!! and then around 630-7AM i decided to leave the place and instead of taking grab or uber back home i insisted on taking the train and bus bc i wanted to listen to an updated playlist of music that i had synced earlier on BUT LOL WTF apparently ZERO music got synced into the phone and my journey was kinda half shitty bc i thought that i can finally listen to some new tracks but i ended up just listening to the 200+ old music in my phone. not that they're bad music but it has been about 3 months since i last updated my playlist so i've been listening to the same old tracks for quite some time already. but anyway!!!! i still had a great time bc at least i managed to see han today ^^ i guess it's something to get me through the rest of the day and till tomorrow's shift. ok this took like rly long to write and i'm actually done pooping. time check: 10:09AM!! i'm gonna shower and remove my makeup before hitting the hay!