#should i tag this with spoilers? is anyone interested in/already reading these books and not want the ending ruined?

[thebanneredmareinn]

i'm almost finished with lord of souls now and there are still a bunch of problems going on and frighteningly few pages left for them to be handled in so... yikes. i really hope at least one of the characters i like survives to the last page and gets to have a somewhat happy ending to their story. my hopes are not high lol

[lucky-clover-gazette]

kings rising highlights & annotations

chapter 10

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

The events of last night, endlessly complicated in the candlelit privacy of Laurent’s bedchamber, had resolved into a single, blissful fact this morning. Laurent missed him.

<3

He felt a flutter of illicit joy when he thought of it. He remembered Laurent gazing up at him. You keep overturning all my plans. Laurent was going to be furious when he arrived at the morning meeting.

he’s going to be in such a bad mood <3 i love their love

‘You’re in a good mood,’ Nikandros said, as he came into the hall. Damen clapped him on the shoulder, and took up his place at the long table. ‘We’re going to take Karthas,’ said Damen.

“also my divorce husband likes me again”

Straton arrived with Philoctus, arranging their skirts as they sat. Makedon was already present, along with Enguerran. Vannes arrived and took her seat, arranging her skirts similarly

i like how skirts are contextualized as authoritative here, and the female character who you’d expect based on traditional stereotypes to be the only one in the skirt, and whose dress skirt is nothing like the akielon battle skirts, is still seamlessly grouped in with the men

Laurent entered, an edge to his grace, like a leopard with a headache, around whom one must tread very, very carefully. ‘Good morning,’ said Damen. ‘Good morning,’ said Laurent. This was said after an infinitesimal pause, as if maybe for once in his life the leopard wasn’t quite certain what to do. Laurent sat on the throne-like seat of oak beside Damen, and kept his eyes carefully on the space in front of him.

screaming they’re so ridiculous. laurent is so out of his element with no idea what happened

‘Laurent!’ said Makedon, greeting Laurent warmly. ‘I am glad to take up your invitation to hunt with you in Acquitart when this campaign is over.’ He clapped Laurent on the shoulder. Laurent said, ‘My invitation.’ Damen wondered whether he had ever been clapped on the shoulder in his life.

laurent let his self-sim go on full autonomy for a night and is discovering that he’s now best friends with makedon

This provoked a wave of soldierly camaraderie. Laurent did not typically engage in soldierly camaraderie, and did not know what to do.

fucking nerd

‘You’ve sent riders to announce your plans?’ said Laurent. ‘This is the Akielon way,’ said Makedon, as he might to a favoured nephew a bit slow at learning. ‘An honourable victory will impress the kyroi and gain the favour that we need at the Kingsmeet.’ ‘I see, thank you,’ said Laurent.

laurent thinks war is brutal and fucked up and doesn’t approve of the “decency” of akielon customs. also he’s a passive aggressive bitch

Makedon was explaining the virtues of iron tea to Laurent, and when Laurent massaged his own temple with finely bred fingers, Makedon remarked, rising, ‘You should have your slave fetch you some.’ ‘Fetch me some,’ Laurent said. Damen rose. And stopped. Laurent had gone very still. Damen stood there, awkwardly. He could think of no other reason why he had stood up.

GUYS.

He looked up and his eyes met those of Nikandros, who was staring at him. Nikandros was with a small group to one side of the table, the last of the men in the hall. He was the only one to have seen and heard. Damen just stood there.

this would be an hr complaint if anyone else noticed, but only nik saw so private twitter vent #12 it is

The acidulous blue of Laurent’s gaze on him had nothing to do with the meeting. ‘Nothing happened,’ said Damen. ‘Something happened,’ said Laurent.

honestly i think part of laurent would have preferred if they fucked to just being vulnerable and affectionate and damen being decent

‘You were drunk,’ said Damen. ‘I took you back to your rooms. You asked me to attend you.’ ‘What else?’ said Laurent. ‘I did attend you,’ said Damen. ‘What else?’ said Laurent. He had thought having the upper hand over a hungover Laurent would be a rather enjoyable experience, except that Laurent was beginning to look like he was going to vomit. And not from the hangover. ‘Oh, stand down. You were too drunk to know your own name, let alone who you were with or what you were doing. Do you really think I’d take advantage of you in that condition?’ Laurent was staring at him. ‘No,’ he said awkwardly, as if, only now giving the question his full attention, he was coming to realise the answer. ‘I don’t think you would.’ His face was still white, his body in tension. Damen waited.

<3 i don’t have too much heavy analysis because this is so much payoff to previous analysis. laurent trauma intimacy issues, damen’s never-ending decency that laurent does not expect, damen being delighted/amused by laurent allowing himself to be vulnerable but also sensitive to the discomfort of that vulnerability

‘Did I,’ Laurent said. It took him a long time to push the words out. ‘Say anything.’ Laurent held himself taut, as if for flight. He lifted his eyes to meet Damen’s. ‘You said you missed me,’ said Damen. Laurent flushed, hard, the change in colour startling. ‘I see. Thank you for—’ He could see Laurent taste the edges of the statement. ‘—resisting my advances.’ In the silence, he could hear voices beyond the door that had nothing to do with the two of them, or the honesty of the moment that almost hurt, as if they stood again in Laurent’s chambers by the bed. ‘I miss you too,’ he said. ‘I’m jealous of Isander.’ ‘Isander’s a slave.’ ‘I was a slave.’ The moment ached. Laurent met his gaze, his eyes too clear. ‘You were never a slave, Damianos. You were born to rule, as I was.’

we are so fucking back. sooo bittersweet, with this little shutdown of “we can’t have each other and we never really could have” a kingdom or this etc, they’ll figure it out soon we are in the home stretch

It was a beautiful fort. He saw that, the ghost of its Veretian grace; of what it had been; of what it could be again, perhaps. For his part, this was farewell. He wouldn’t return here, or if he did, as a visiting King, it would be different, restored as it should be to Veretian hands. Marlas, so hard-won, he would simply give back.

or you could both be kings together. just a suggestion.

That was strange to think. Once a symbol of Akielon victory, it seemed now a symbol of all that had changed in him, the way that when he looked now, he saw with new eyes.

:)

Damen looked back at Genevot. Genevot was trembling. She wasn’t scared. She was furious. She was furious at him, at his presence here. ‘It wasn’t fair what happened to your village,’ Damen said to her. ‘No fight is fair. Someone’s always stronger. But I’ll give you justice. That I swear.’ ‘I wish Akielons had never come to Delfeur,’ said the girl. ‘I wish someone had been stronger than you.’ She turned her back on him after she said it. It was an act of bravery, a girl in front of a king. Then she went and picked up a coin from the floor. ‘It’s all right, Genevot,’ said the girl. ‘Look, I’ll teach you a trick. Watch my hand.’

she is/was laurent. laurent is/was her. so many poignant references to damen and laurent's "discussion" during the marlas rematch. this is a perfect moment, and the coin trick recognition is just the cherry on top

Damen’s skin prickled as he recognised it, the echo of another presence, the achingly familiar self-possession that the girl mimicked as she closed her hand over the coin, holding her fist out in front of her. He knew who had been here before him, who had sat with her, taught her. He had seen this trick before. And though her eight-year-old sleight of hand was a little clumsy, she managed to push the coin into her sleeve, so that when she opened her hand again, it was empty.

laurent’s resilience becomes vere’s resilience becomes becomes damen’s resilience. and damen had a large part in creating the circumstances that required laurent to become so resilient, which is a fascinating cycle. i don’t know if damen regrets what happened with auguste yet on a purely idealistic level (as opposed to feeling bad for laurent), or if he ever fully will, because his perception of akielon “decency” in war is still slowly evolving.

i’m guessing that the final straws for damen will be the realizations about the regent and kastor, and only then will he fully Get that it is all fucked, war can't be civil, and there could have been peace instead this entire time. there is no divine right of the “strongest” people simply deserving dominion over others, and the best way one can use authority is to show compassion to enemies and allies alike. it’s not just that the strong shouldn’t hurt the weak—they shouldn’t hurt the strong either, ideally. and while that can sometimes be unavoidable, it’s important to build a world where peace is the goal. which he can laurent can both do, together :)

He saw Laurent, also mounted, a frowning spicule with blond hair. Rigidly upright in the saddle, his polished armour gleamed, his eyes impersonal with command. With the head that Laurent had from griva, it was probably a good thing that he would soon be killing people.

‘You’ve been listening to slave gossip.’ ‘You spent the night in the Prince of Vere’s rooms.’ ‘I spent ten minutes in his rooms. If you think I fucked him in that time you underrate me.’

nik please we are at war

‘I see. You’re warning me again not to bed him?’ ‘No,’ said Nikandros. ‘I know you’re going to bed him. I’m saying that when he lets you, think about what he wants.’

nikandros you have no idea what the fuck is going on between those two, mind your business

She was beautiful. As ever with her, it was something you noticed initially and then forcefully discarded because it was the least dangerous aspect of her. It was her mind, deliberate, calculating, that was the threat, regarding him from behind a pair of cool blue eyes.

mhm yeah that sounds familiar

He made himself look at her. He made himself remember every part of her, the way she had smiled, the slow approach of her sandalled feet as he had hung in chains, the touch of her elegant fingers against his bruised face. Then he turned to the low-level foot soldier to his right, delegating a trivial task that was beneath him, and now meant nothing. ‘Take her away,’ he said. ‘We have the fort.’

okay very specific here but you know how in like 2000s and 2010s reality tv, finalists in competitions would have like "family/home visits" towards the end of the season, and you always got a ton of implied context about how they've become who they are on the show? the middle of king's rising kind of feels like that. like we met damen's bestie, and now we're meeting his ex. we get to basically see his hometown. i won't say the slight tone shift is bad, and there are definitely still intense moments (especially what we're building up to), but it's still just a... slightly odd feeling. does anyone else feel that way?

[unnecessary-feelings]

Tell me abt the oc u lovingly refer to as "weird arson motherfucker" pls

HI sorry i forgot to answer this, thank you for asking abt her!!! i’m still in the process of fleshing everything out so things might change but she’s my ace attorney OC! i’m putting everything under a read more because this post ended up being longer than i meant it to be and i don’t want this to be a pain to scroll through for anyone on mobile who doesn’t wanna read me rambling about blorbo from my brain, i’m sorry if this is hard to read i have trouble putting my thoughts into words for other people to read hdjdbfbdn, also spoilers for cases 4-1, 6-1, 6-3, and 6-5

i made her because i started wondering what would happen if dhurke and amara had a daughter older than rayfa that was in line to become queen before the khura’in royal residence fire and then i accidentally got carried away with her story lmao

her name is kaba’anyi padma khura’in (i was thankfully able to figure out a name for her after i created her tag, it means something along the lines of “daughter of the sun” because sun motif go brrr. ALSO i got to that name because nyi means sun in tibetan and khura’in is in the himalayas so i figured that link made sense. i’m very proud of her name because i struggle with naming characters so being able to make up a name for a character from a country that doesn’t exist is very big for me), or anyi for short, and she uses she/her pronouns. she was born in 1998 (for the sake of timeline consistency in this version of AA dhurke and amara are around 5 years older than they are in canon because after i had already chosen a birth year for her i realized that dhurke and amara would have been too young at that point in time shdnrhdh) and i played around with the idea of her committing a couple of crimes as a member of the defiant dragons, set a couple of government buildings on fire to get back at whoever tried to kill her and amara (she didn’t know it was ga’ran at the time but since they would have had to have access to the royal palace she knew they would have to have been high ranking and probably still were in that position) which is how i got her tag name but now i’m not sure if i wanna keep that part in or not lmao, now that i have a probably-concrete name for her i might move everything in her tag over to a new one, probably should do that sooner rather than later before the tag has too many posts

anyways, no matter if it was arson-related or simply because y’know, she was the daughter of the man who the country believed had murdered the previous queen, she was arrested, but she broke out and managed to fake her death to avoid being looked for (that part may be subject to change if i can’t figure out how exactly that happened, while i have a good grasp on the rest of her story there’s a gap between the royal palace fire and her moving to the US that is just kind of a loose collection of things i thought would be interesting for now hjsjdjsjfh)

so after that, she moved to the US when she was probably around 21 (still working on a concrete timeline but that’s somewhere around the right age) because of the rebellion. she changed her name to guinevere amos (i chose guinevere because the rest of the WAA except for trucy has mythology themed names so i figured arthurian legend would fit into that even though i’ve gotten all of my knowledge of arthurian legend from the mechanisms lmao, and i just chose amos because it was the first name of the main character of the book i was reading at the time and i’m pretty sure amos is also a last name so i went with it) and ended up joining gavin & co law offices which turned into a very awkward sibling reunion with apollo, i think she would have acted as a second co counsel alongside gavin (pretty sure that happened once in dd so i’m choosing to believe that double co counsels are a normal thing in the aa legal system) during 4-1 and helped apollo and phoenix get kristoph arrested, then she joins the WAA alongside apollo (although i think she would have joined a little bit earlier than apollo as she was quicker to accept phoenix’s invite at the end of 4-1) and then she helps the WAA with the rest of AA4 as well as AA5

as for AA6, anyi decides to go with phoenix to khura’in because it’s been nearly a decade since she was last in contact with her family and the rest of the rebels and she felt it was time to go back even if only for a couple of weeks, since she was now going under a different name she decided that it was safe to go back if she could keep her head low and avoid getting into trouble, obviously that didn’t happen, which marked the beginning of Guinevere Amos AKA Kaba’anyi Padma Khura’in’s No Good Very Bad Vacation, canon shenanigans ensue, you get the idea, when i get around to replaying the AJ trilogy (i’m intending on replaying it when it comes out on the switch but i might end up doing it before then as well) i’m thinking abt doing a liveblog thing (is it still liveblogging if you’ve already played the game in question?) where i also explain how anyi would interact with the events of the games if that makes any sense

after the events of 6-5. she stays behind in khura’in with apollo, and works with him at justice & co law offices, my original thoughts were that she takes back the role of royal priestess alongside being a lawyer and then quits when she becomes queen instead of rayfa but it could also be that she stays a lawyer and rayfa becomes queen like in canon, either way i’d imagine it could be a source of conflict between the two, although i think they would be able to work it out, unlike amara and ga’ran

one last thing, i’m currently working on some art for her and i am so excited to post it here because she is literally GORGEOUS i’m so proud of her design <33

i think that’s everything! i hope this made sense lmao

also is it normal to be nervous talking about your ocs to other people? it feels so weird trying to explain the things that come out of my brain like this

[deliveryclan]

If the 'issue' is lack of attention: As someone who's been reading every post on the clangen tag for months, the times you post are fine, you just. Only ever seem to post short text posts about a clan no random person scrolling by has any context on and that doesn't seem to have started yet. and 'there will be something here eventually, here's a few shreds of info about it' definitely puts you on people's radar(you're certainly on mine!) but doesn't necessarily spark conversation with you.

oh, i do know that! i am planning on putting most crucial information in one post for once, however i feel like i need to show them first in proper context of a moon page and THEN make a coherent post. me saying 'hey there are monsters in there' sounds meaningless if i wont show them.. in actual comic first. i think people want visuals first and wall of text second.

"oh but you could draw for the post too' problem is im a slow worker, and if i could draw then i could just draw the moon itself, also this isnt the only thing im drawing. also im not unemployed, so that another x hours taken from my day.

alas i feel like it's. awkward. to put some major information about groups or plots that won't show up until like later moons (we wont see inside of the major non-sharing-border-with-one until like.. moon *39*). could it build up anticipation to see them in action? maybe?? i dont know??? i suppose???? it does for me personally, but i might be a Spoilers Georg, an outlier and shouldnt be counted. it could work bc reader knows stuff but the characters dont and it makes sense in most context. but also doesnt that make people discouraged bc 'well i know about the x now, so why keep reading' type of thing. like with spoilers for shows and books and games. i seen enough webcomics with people going 'wow the character is so fucking stupid for not figuring out the killer. like we readers saw who killed, why the character doesnt know that already'. 'wow the clangen cats are fucking dumb for not knowing about the other group's deal, like. we all saw the introduction post, didn't they also??? how they dont know all this crucial information, are they stupid' (< please read What Lurks Beneath and The Exiled, some of the comments are just like that and it's making my head hurt soooo badly)

also i feel like making random posts every now and then is a good way of showing that hey. im still here. im working. its absolutely incoherent to anyone but me. you know how some blogs dont update for x weeks or months and you wonder if you should still follow them, until they post a random post out of blue and then disappear for another month. i dont unfollow blogs for that, but i know others probably do 'clear' their follow lists if they see someone not post for few weeks, so.

so i do appreciate the message!! unfortunately we all know that people will learn something and then acts like the characters should know that too and act disinterested. or something doesnt get cleared for several pages and act like it's a plot hole. obviously its not going to stop me from working and all, attention or not. world is my oyster. but it's still good to hear people are interested, even if it is barebone?? damn.

[roydeezed]

Beat & Motion-Chapter Round-Up(Chapter 7)

I genuinely love this manga with all my heart. This chapter not only made me search out and start the reality show that it came from, Million Tag, but it’s also made me cry almost three times by now. Beat & Motion is such an honest and heartfelt representation of what creatives feel and go through. I really think everyone needs to check it out. I’m gonna go in-depth below the cut because my hope is that if I don’t put visible spoilers in this part, the endorsement might make someone go out and read it. So go check it out!

First of all I want to talk about Million Tag. It was a web game show put on by Jump where six teams of Mangaka and Editors were paired together and the winner received serialization in Jump. Through context clues it’s pretty easy to tell that Naoki Fujita, this manga’s author, won. I’m still watching it but what I found incredibly interesting is that the most skilled editor among those participating picked Naoki Fujita. And despite the energetic and passionate nature of the manga, he is quite, as the show describes him, melancholic. I find that to be a hilarious dichotomy. But it does make sense as now I can understand where Tatsu was coming from so much better. Another thing is that the editor picked him out because of something I’d only recognized after quite a bit of time with the manga, the expressions. The editor recognized that as his strength instantly. I know I give the Jump editors a lot of flack but that was so impressive and really representative of the skill and knowledge they bring to the table. 

Moving on, this chapter was absolutely phenomenal. It genuinely felt like the culmination of several different emotions and arcs that doing it in such a short time has me seriously impressed. Tatsu’s word’s this chapter really affected me. I just recently wrote a book. And after riding the high of finishing it and putting it out there, I was faced with the come down of nervousness and doubt that I think must be quite common in situations like this. And I was on the fence about sharing it. And then my phone notified me that a new chapter of Beat & Motion was out. I always appreciated the insights this manga offered but this chapter was scarily relevant. It ferreted out every insecurity I had and showed me the real reason I write. A yearning for understanding and communication and the act of expression itself. This manga is able to present those raw feelings so realistically. I genuinely urge anyone and everyone to read this.

I could go over each and every panel in this chapter with a fine tooth comb but I should probably be a little bit more concise with this stuff. Nabori confronting Tatsu leads him to the heart of why he makes art. It’s to be understood. In a way, that's what this whole series has been about, art as a means of communication. The characters talk to each other through their art and are at their most genuine when doing so. It’s honest communication without any of the coverup that Tatsu used to employ when he was a jaded ass. And talking about art also brings out the honesty in them. 

And what’s beautiful is that Tatsu’s genuineness has already reached Nabori, and it’s what’s coming back to him. It speaks to the nature of artist’s being inspirations to each other and gets back to the heart of why it’s important for Tatsu to have creative friends. I love Nabori and everything he says. He is a walking talking embodiment of his beliefs. He’s nervous and shy until he gets cocky and puts it all out there. Him saying to damn everything and put yourself out there is something that really resonated with me and I’m glad this chapter came out when it did. All of these sentiments culminating in a beautiful flashback of Nabori realizing that they’re not alone in their fight really sealed the deal about how special this chapter was. 

P.S. It's so hard not to include the full pages because they showcase such a wide range of emotions so beautifully. Gods! I love this manga!

[starseungs]

➳ universe. ksm

pairing: kim seungmin x gn!reader

Every day, he thanked the universe for placing you in his life. Out of the millions of heavenly bodies in the vast sky, you outshone every single one in his eyes. He was waist deep in a slowly sinking phenomenon he could only describe as love.

genre/s: roommates au, angst, fluff, writer!seungmin, unrequited love

warning/s: work & financial struggles, high real estate prices (yes im putting this here), the angst tag is before the fluff tag for a reason (is this a spoiler? probably)

wc: 2.5k

note: behold, another angst from me. don't question it- at this point its the only thing i can write properly;; also this fic is connected to my felix fic if you want to read that after! the two are written to serve as stand-alones too, so it won't affect the stories much if you don't. UPDATE: this has a part 2 now !

2022 ⓒ starseungs on tumblr. do not steal, repost, or edit.

Seungmin finally looks up from the blinding light of his laptop and stretches his limbs for the first time since the sun said its goodbyes. His room was dark—the only source of lighting being the laptop’s screen, which only reminds Seungmin that he should probably lower the brightness setting before working in an environment like this. He already had a sinking feeling that he’d be needing a trip to the eye doctor soon. 

And ending up with glasses would be such a hassle.

It’s not that Seungmin hated wearing them per se, but having to use the tool for reading things would hinder the efficiency of his job somehow. Of course, not to the point of a drastic difference, but he liked being able to work on his craft right away whenever and wherever.

You see, Seungmin is a writer. 

Well, calling it his job is sort of a reach. His "actual" job was as a journalist for a news-based company—still in the same field, just different specializations. Seungmin considers himself quite good at both, though.

He loved creating stories. It was his way of destressing from all the chaos that was his list of news topics to cover. Who said journalism was easy? It was enjoyable, yes, but it physically hurts him sometimes when he’s being told to cover devastating topics. Maybe he was just too soft for the line of work. After all, his colleagues seem to be doing just fine with similar coverage.

Seungmin originally wanted to be a book author anyway. It has been a long time dream of his to watch his story and characters come to life in the minds of those who read it. 

His passion for creative writing was something he discovered back when he was still a child. Books were always of interest to him; the concept of experiencing the characters’ lives through words and bringing life to the reader’s imagination was greatly thrilling. And that’s why one day, he simply found himself wanting to try it out.

Years after that event, Seungmin was now a fairly well-known writer on a platform where anyone could post their work. Along the way, he realized that being a professional author was so much harder than it seemed—but this chance was already enough for him. His stories were seen by more people than he had originally imagined, and that itself was a big achievement.

Like a normal person in society, though, he still had to find a job. Posting for free wasn’t going to support his daily life, which is why he ended up working as a journalist. The pay was decent enough to not make him live off of cup ramen like in his broke college days. Despite this, he initially struggled to keep a place to live.

Real estate prices were crazy high in Seungmin’s area. So much that it ate a good chunk of his paycheck just to keep the apartment he had. Sure, he had a stable job, but it wasn’t the highest-paying one out there—it was only about time that he would be struggling to keep up with rent.

And that was when he met you.

"Can I please just have another extension? I had to send money home this week, so I’m really lacking on the payment," Seungmin remembered pleading with the landlord. 

He was severely behind on two months of rent at that moment, and the owner of the complex he lived in was starting to have his patience run thin. 

It wasn’t something he could control! Seungmin’s sister had broken her leg and needed extra money to cover the hospital and recovery fees. He wasn’t about to leave his family hanging like that!

The landlord sighed and patted his back. "Sorry about this Seungmin, but if you can’t pay the two months by tomorrow, we have to ask you to move out. There’s another person who is interested in an apartment here, but we were already full," he said, dropping his arm off Seungmin's back. "We’re running a business here. I hope you understand."

Seungmin was left dumbfounded as the landlord started walking away. What was he going to do now? It’s not as if he could just magically conjure up enough money to fully pay two months of rent. Asking his family was out of the question—they already had their hands full with his sister. So what’s next? His friends? How comedic.

He didn’t have any.

The closest would probably be his co-workers, but it was a very professional relationship and stopped at general concerns. He doubts they would be willing to lend him more than simple pocket money.

"Hello? Excuse me, sir?" He hears a person calling out to him. He turned around and spotted you—who was peeking out your apartment’s front door. Oh, right. You were his neighbor.

"Yes?" 

Seungmin watches as your eyes light up at his response. Why do you look so happy to talk to him? "I’m sorry for the sudden conversation, but it's just that I overheard your talk with the landlord. You’re going to be kicked out tomorrow, right?"

That was certainly one way to say it, he grimaces. Surely, you didn’t mean it in an insulting way, but the cheerful tone in your voice reminding him of the current situation was kind of putting salt over his wound. 

Sighing, Seungmin decides to reply and get it over with, "Apparently. What about it?"

The universe must have been on his side at that moment, because your words certainly caught him off guard. This was not what he was expecting—

"Do you want to share an apartment? I have an extra room."

Granted, any random person who offers to live together would've been sketchy in Seungmin's eyes. But maybe it was your positive vibe that pulled him in, telling him that this was a good idea.

You were literally giving him a place to live, at half the original price. Having a roommate wouldn't be such a big problem, right? Plus, you seemed like a decent person to live with.

However, all his other considerations were thrown out the window at the speed of light once he realized once again how severe his issue was: he was on the brink of becoming homeless. 

"Sure."

And that was where it all started.

Living with you was quite possibly the best decision Seungmin had made in a while. Not only did he continue to live in the same apartment complex (which was the closest to the train station in his area), but he also ended up with more money for spending because the monthly amount he had to pay for rent was cut in half.

You were such an angel too. Always making sure the kitchen was stocked, so that the two of you were living like proper functioning adults. It would take some more time before Seungmin was willing to go back to his college dorm lifestyle days. He's already been avoiding the instant noodle aisle in convenience stores for the past year. 

In exchange for your generosity, he started doing most of the chores in the apartment—something you heavily thanked him for, because washing the dishes really wasn't your favorite pastime.

Due to this dynamic you both developed, a lot of your neighbors mistook you two as a couple. And no matter how many times you tried to correct the assumption, it just comes back stronger in the form of: "Oh, young love. You don't have to be shy about it! Both of you are adults now. Living together isn't that bad."

Except it is that bad. 

The main reason you decided to have Seungmin as a roommate was that you, too, were running late on rent for that month. Unlike him, who was on it for the second time in a row, though, you had lacked just one month at that point, so the landlord let you get away with it. 

Your job had to cut employees due to a financial crisis, and the pay was lowered by about one-fourth of the original. Luckily for you, your workplace considered you one of the best workers and decided to keep you among the remaining employees. Because of that, you didn't lose your job—only a pay cut.

Basically, that leaves you and Seungmin in the "struggling young adults" classification. Sharing an apartment was the best move you two could make in an effort to save your living standards.

On the other hand, if you asked Seungmin about the misunderstanding, he'd honestly say that it doesn't bother him as much as it did you.

Half a year into your roommate agenda, he found himself falling for you. The crush started not long after you first found out about his hobby of writing.

"So, you post stories online? That's so cool!" Was your genuine praise, looking at Seungmin's laptop screen with interest.

He, on the other hand, was developing cold sweat—a result of having you so close to him. You were currently hovering over his back, trying to get a peek at his draft document. 

"Yeah—I, uh, post stuff sometimes," Seungmin replied with a small voice, not used to people praising his hobby in person. "It's nothing too special. But I like the reactions of the readers."

You hum. "How do you plan stuff? I'm not really a writer kind of person, but I do enjoy reading. I want to take a glimpse at your writing process."

Seungmin tried his best to not swoon like a fool.

Someone interested in his work? As well as the process? What a way to make him fall for you.

"I normally just have these bursts of ideas. It can be lines, plots, concepts, character traits, all that stuff. When I do get them, I open my phone's recording app and just say my ideas for future use," Seungmin explains. "I know others write them down as notes, but personally, I prefer verbally describing them, even if it's messily done."

The way your eyes sparkled as he pointed out more stuff in his writing process had him whipped in an instant. It was from then on that Seungmin's adoration for you grew even more romantically.

Every day, he thanked the universe for placing you in his life. Out of the millions of heavenly bodies in the vast sky, you outshone every single one in his eyes. He was waist deep in a slowly sinking phenomenon he could only describe as love.

It's been about two more years since he deciphered his feelings for you. He'd never know how you'd managed to still be living with him—what he did know, though, was that it was a mutual decision. 

You both never talked about it up front, but it was obvious that the two of you were now in a better place financially. It would be reasonable to want to live separately again, but the bond you formed throughout the two and a half years of living together was something that could not be broken easily.

"... Min?" He hears your voice calling out. You must be home already.

After stretching once again, he headed towards his door to greet you. Your eyes quickly caught his, the sight making you smile. This reaction was what kept Seungmin going every day.

"Were you asleep? Did I wake you up?" You asked, setting down the plastic bag you were carrying on top of the kitchen table. He shakes his head as a no. "Oh, that’s good. Your light was turned off, so I just assumed."

Seungmin laughs at you while he approaches the plastic bag. Once he got a closer look, he realized it contained takeout food. He looked at you in question. You merely motioned towards it. "Did you eat already? I brought you take-out just in case. Just place it in the fridge if you’re not hungry yet."

The action has him grinning unconsciously. It was one of your love languages to do acts of service, and knowing that, he felt extremely loved.

Taking out the food, he started unwrapping it while watching you take off your shoes on the sofa. It was endearing to see you relax and become more comfortable once inside your shared apartment. He felt special knowing that he was one of the only people to see you in your natural form.

Sadly, his joy-filled illusion was destroyed right away when he noticed the outfit you were currently still wearing—a devastating reminder of what had just gone on with your night.

"How was the date?"

You beamed at his question. At least you’re happy, he thought bitterly. 

"It was great, Min! He was such a gentleman the whole time, I was practically swooning. His name is Felix, by the way. Just in case I end up introducing you two. You have an Australian co-worker, right? Chris, was it? He’s Australian too—do you think they know each other?" You chatted enthusiastically.

How fun. He could already tell that this Felix guy was a topic that would stay for a while.

The conversation hurt him, but Seungmin decides to entertain you nonetheless. "Maybe. I can ask tomorrow or something." You give him a thumbs up.

"Cool! I'll go and change out of this now. Good night, Min!" He waves back at you, watching your form disappear behind your room's door. When he finally heard a click, his arm dropped immediately.

It wasn't the first time you've gone on a date with someone else before. But it was the first time you went home approving of one—a very big deal, because this means whoever this Felix is, he's definitely getting a second date from you.

Seungmin was envious of the guy. He doubts he'll ever be on the receiving end of your dates. Something he knows and has tried before, albeit more indirectly. The result was soul-crushing, though.

Bzzt, bzzt.

His phone vibrated for a while, indicating an important notification. Considering he had all other notifications off except for messages, it must have been a text. He lazily picks it up, glancing at the message.

Y/N 🤍: i hope you liked the food i got you btw

Y/N 🤍: love you bro 🤪👊

He simply smiles at his phone, even through the tears that have piled up in his eyes. As much as Seungmin hated being seen as a brother to you, he'd rather have that than nothing. 

Yes, you saw him in a more familial light. It completely broke him for a while when he first confirmed it, but there was nothing he could do. Seungmin wasn't about to force you to like him romantically. 

No, he would rather leave the shared apartment than ever hurt you on purpose. Both were thoughts he despised to the bone. 

Exhaling shakily, he opens up the voice recording app and presses start.

"I know there’s a universe out there where we'll end up together. It’s just not this one."

[ PART 2 ]

mastertag 🏷️ : @h0neydewmoon

[babyboibucky]

Charm

Pairing: TFATWS!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky checks whether he still has his 1940′s charm.

Word Count: 1,613

Warnings: TFATWS spoilers! No warning, just a bit of fluff I guess???

A/N: Nothing really, just that Bucky deserves all the love in the world :’)

Charming (Part 2) || MAIN MASTERLIST

“You should date someone.”

Bucky groans at Yori’s suggestion. Again. The old guy had been pestering him about it ever since they started their little friendship. Introduced girls and forced him to take them out to dinner or bingo. He did try of course, but it always seemed too fast for him.

“I already did, haven’t I? You sort of forced me to go on one, remember?” Bucky asked before downing a glass of sake in one go.

Thank god they went to a different Japanese restaurant this time. His date with the girl at the other restaurant went pretty badly, with him walking out after a particularly sensitive topic and never returning. Bucky felt bad and as much as he wanted to go back there and apologize, he just doesn’t have the courage to show his face again.

“Yeah, well you messed up.” Yori said pointedly.

Bucky chortled, “Or maybe you messed up by forcing me. I told you, you gotta take it slow like a dance. I mean, you don’t just ask anyone to dance with you. You ask someone you’d like to dance with.”

Yori’s shoulders trembled as he tried to bite back his laughter. Bucky made a face when he realized he’d been talking a lot.

“Then go find someone you want to date. Or maybe you just don’t have it in you.” The older man teased.

Bucky couldn’t help but grin, “Sounds like a challenge.”

As Bucky poured himself another glass of sake, he began to wonder whether Yori was right. Maybe he really didn’t have it anymore, the confidence and charm he used to have back in his time.

Only one way to find out.

-

The club was a bad idea. A really bad idea.

Initially, Bucky thought that it would be the perfect place to find someone to date. Apparently not, because despite the presence of beautiful girls, they were pretty much throwing themselves at him. As much as Bucky was curious about the so called “hook-up” culture in the modern times, it just wasn’t for him.

And good god, the dancing? It’s not what it used to be; Bucky wasn’t even sure if he could call those movements “dance”.

Bucky called it a night and quickly headed to the exit. And that’s where he noticed you, fumbling with your phone and clicking your tongue from what seemed to be frustration. He slowed down in his steps, not wanting to interrupt your little moment as you mumbled a string of curses to yourself.

He eyed you from head to toe, noticing that you were wearing something too simple for a club: just a white shirt, some jeans and a pair of sneakers. With Bucky’s experience, he learned to be observant enough to read someone’s personality.

You were definitely not a frequent visitor to these clubs. And he was right about that because you were just forced to tag along to your officemates to celebrate a promotion.

“Ugh, fuck. Come on!” You unintentionally exclaimed out loud, stomping on the ground causing for Bucky to let out a chuckle.

Bucky’s eyes widened when you abruptly turned around, “Oh sorry. I didn’t meant to uhh...are you okay?” He asked timidly, slowly walking over to where you stood.

You huffed out, “I’m trying to book a ride, but the signal here sucks.” You explained. “And I’m not really comfortable to walk home at this hour.” You quickly added.

It was close to ten in the evening, it wasn’t that late yet but given the location and downsides of being a woman, you really didn’t want to risk your safety.

“Won’t your friends give you a ride home?” He asked.

You groaned, “They aren’t really my friends...I just work with them. They’re all shit-faced drunk and I didn’t even plan on coming here. Not a fan of clubs.” You admitted.

Bucky chuckled as he kicked the ground, “Guess that makes two of us.”

Your hum caught Bucky’s attention and when he looked up, you were looking at him suspiciously. For a moment he thought that you might have recognized him but you merely laughed and shook your head.

“You don’t seem like the type to hate clubs. Why are you here then?” You asked curiously.

Bucky shrugged, “Thought I’d find someone here that I can you know...take out on a date.”

You cackled out loud, it was the kind of laughter that made Bucky join in. You probably thought it was stupid for him to come looking for love at a club. And well, given his experience inside, you were correct.

“I know. It’s stupid. I haven’t been to clubs really, so I honestly didn’t know what to expect.” He admitted, rubbing the back of neck sheepishly.

You nodded, “How was your experience inside then?”

“You could say I was pretty shocked. And disoriented. The lights made me dizzy.” Bucky said, widening his eyes in emphasis.

Laughing, you nodded and agreed before introducing yourself so casually. Bucky repeated your name, he liked the way it sounded.

“I’m James.”

Bucky found himself easily opening up to you. The conversations flowed naturally, from something as basic as favorite food down to your mutual hatred for crowded places and everything in between. Bucky learned that you often volunteer at an orphanage and that you hate plums which happens to be his favorite. It resulted to a harmless debate that lasted ten minutes.

You asked him about his work, something that he had to lie his way around. As much as he wanted to be honest with you, he was afraid that revealing the truth might scare you off. You seemed to be really interested in him whenever he talked about his boring daily routine.

“Do you...do you like to talk somewhere else?” Bucky blurted out.

You offered a sad smile, one that broke Bucky’s heart because you were probably going to reject him. Understandable though, he was a stranger and it was late at night. It was hard to trust people nowadays.

“I have work tomorrow morning.” You apologetically said.

“But you can walk me home...if you’d like?” You asked. “I probably sound demanding but uhh, I don’t think I can really book a ride and I don’t want to walk home alone at this hour.”

Bucky heaved out a deep sigh of relief and laughed, “I thought you didn’t like talking to me.” He sheepishly admitted.

“No, I actually like talking to you. You’re fun. And interesting.” You smiled.

Bucky beamed and extended a hand, letting you lead the way before matching your pace. The more he talked to you, the more he realized that maybe, just maybe, you’d be the first person he’d willingly ask out on a date.

The walk lasted half an hour but to Bucky, it only felt like minutes. It was definitely not enough for him to get to know you more.

“Well, this is me.” You announced when you reached your apartment building.

“Thanks for walking me home, I really appreciate it.” You said.

Bucky placed his hands inside his pockets and nodded, “Call me old-fashioned, but I felt like any gentleman should do so.”

Bucky held your gaze and debated how he should ask you out. Should he just blurt out the question? Would that be too soon? Your number! Maybe he should ask for your number first, show his therapist that finally, there was a new number registered in his contacts.

“Well, I should head inside.” You said when Bucky remained silent and although Bucky didn’t want to assume, he thought he saw a look if disappointed in your eyes.

Yori is going to regret saying that he doesn’t have game.

“Wait,” Bucky called out before you could turn around. “Being old-fashioned and all, I know this might be too forward. Or too fast, even.” he trailed and cleared his throat.

“Would you like to go out on a date with me? This Saturday. We can go to the beach, get ice cream...” he suggested.

Wrong move! Out of all the places he could suggest, it just had to be the beach! It’s not like he could wear a long-sleeved top and his gloves without getting dirty looks from people. You were going to find out the truth about him, his arm, his past. And then you’d regret letting him walk you home because who knew what the Winter Soldier was capable of?

“I’d love to.” You replied with a grin but before Bucky could suggest another place, you had already walked up to the front door of your apartment building, pulling it open before suddenly stopping.

“Or we can just take a walk at the park if you want, if that’s more comfortable for you.” You suggested turning your head to look back at Bucky.

He furrowed his brows in confusion. Again, he was unable to say something because you beat him to it with a surprising revelation.

“I’ll wait for you to come pick me up on Saturday. And don’t worry about your arm, I don’t mind. Good night, Bucky.”

And with one final beautiful smile, you headed inside the building leaving Bucky with a confused look. You knew him all along but didn’t say anything. You opened up to him, held his arm when you laughed and still, it didn’t bother you. You didn’t call him out when he lied about working for a mechanic shop, didn’t get scared when he offered to walk you home.

It took a few seconds for Bucky’s brain to process everything. And then he found himself grinning like a fool when he proved something to himself. And well, Yori too.

“Guess I still got it.”

-

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[wildechild3]

Maurice - Chapter 1

[Okay so I finally got my hands on my own copy of Maurice by E.M Forester. As I was rereading it, I found little bits of information that I thought were interesting. I decided that I would do a small breakdown of the entire novel chapter by chapter, pointing out the fun little details I find while also documenting key information. I don’t know how often I’ll update due to the fact I’m a full time student and work part time but I’ll do my best to post updates as I go along. Also, I should warn y’all that I’m painfully American so if I get something wrong about British culture just yell at me and I’ll fix it lol.]

Warning: Maurice spoilers below (you should really read the book if you haven’t already)

Named Characters Descriptions:

Mr. Abrahams- Schoolmaster/Principal,

Mrs. Abrahams- Mr. Abrahams’ wife, gives Maurice sleeve links (cuff-links basically), motherly

Mr. Read- Junior Assistant (Vice Principal???)

Mr. Ducie- Also a schoolmaster, unclear where he ranks against Read and Abrahams, young and engaged

Maurice Hall- our boi <3, 14 3/4 thank you very much, is also described as stupid so early on like damn Forester give him a chance he’s 14, all 14 year olds are stupid.

Literally zero appearance descriptions at this point outside of just vibes and ages.

Points of Note:

Maurice’s father died of pneumonia when Maurice was 13-14ish (the book says that Maurice’s father died recently, and when Mr. Ducie has his talk with Maurice, he says that he’s “fourteen and three quarters”).

Kitty is actually the youngest of the Halls. For some reason I always thought she was his eldest sister??? She gives such eldest daughter energy that my brain just tuned canon out I guess.

Maurice (as a child at least) is a afraid of the dark. Not to spoil later reviews, but this does come up again in the novel several times so keep this tagged in your brain when reading.

Maurice is repeatedly compared to his father, but not in a ‘he’ll be a great success’ kind of way; but in the way that he’s actually very plain and unassuming. This is another point that will repeat in the novel so put a pin in it!!

Summary:

Maurice is getting ready to enter British public school (to Americans: from my understanding it’s kind of like a private school, but also not?? You have to pay a fee to attend but it’s less selective) and is going on an end-of-term walk on the beach with his class. Maurice as a young boy is repeatedly described as unremarkable, plain, and a copy of his father. Early on, Maurice is told to follow in his father’s footsteps by Mr. Abrahams. Then we get to the walk with Mr. Ducie. If you’ve seen the movie, this scene plays out almost exactly the same only we get to see more into Maurice’s mind.

Maurice is not interested in the sex talk that Mr. Ducie gives him. He asks questions because he knows he supposed to, but internally we see Maurice is unable to be interested in what Mr. Ducie is talking about. By the end of their talk, Maurice actually begins to resent Mr. Ducie a bit.

“Liar,” he thought. “Liar, coward, he’s told me nothing...” (Pg. 15)

This could be because Maurice is still a bit too young to care about sex, puberty, etc. From my interpretation (and experience as a queer person myself), Maurice could be struggling because Mr. Ducie keeps emphasizing the importance of a wife and having sex with women, which Maurice simply can’t understand because it isn’t in his nature. 

Finally, the chapter ends with the most fuckin metal line:

“Then darkness rolled up again, the darkness that is primeval but not eternal, and yields to its own painful dawn.” (Pg. 15)

Now, I’m still not entirely sure how I want to interpret the meaning of this line and anyone is welcomed to offer their own interpretations. So far my mind is circling on the idea that this is in reference to Maurice’s later sexual awakening that he’ll undergo. Right now he’s in the dark (which he fears), but reaching the light won’t necessarily bring him peace either and will come with it’s own pain.

[bazzybelle]

Magical Equality Within The World of Mages

I’ve been thinking a lot since I finished reading Any Way The Wind Blows, and there are SO many things that I still need to process. I took my time with reading it, I’ve listened to the audiobook and I plan on re-reading it several times, once I move into my new house and have THAT stress done and over with. I cannot wait to re-read it on my back porch with some iced tea and a notebook to annotate and comment on pretty much everything that gave me feelings.

But for now, there is one massive issue that I want to address, and it plays into the plot for all three books.

Warning for those who have not read Any Way The Wind Blows, this post contains spoilers, so proceed with caution. I am tagging this appropriately, but adding an extra warning just in case.

Huge thanks to @carryonsimoncarryonbaz for reading this over and making sure I didn't sound like a rambling mess.

The World of Mages is an incredibly toxic place! This is especially true for anyone who isn’t a magical powerhouse, or stupid rich.

I’m going to not focus on the obvious socio-economic bullshit, because I’m not familiar enough with the British class system to properly comment on it. But if anyone wants to add onto this with a whole meta like that, please do so!

Instead, I’m going to focus on magic use and how detrimental it can be to grow up in this world if you aren’t one of the few who are blessed with the RIGHT kind of magic (I say right kind of magic for a reason, and I’m going to come back to that). I want to focus my attention on three characters (two of whom were drawn into Smith-Richard’s fake promises, and one who was just fed up with it all): Martin Bunce, Daphne Grimm, and Agatha Wellbelove.

1) Martin Bunce: We first hear about Martin Bunce in Carry On. He’s Penny’s dad, a renowned scholar and is leading a team researching the effects of the Insidious Humdrum. He’s a highly respected individual, in his own right. Penny adores him, she only speaks his praises, and I get the feeling she gets along better with Martin, then she does with Mitali. When Penny needs help with Shep’s curse, she trusts her dad to help her after her mother flat out refuses.

While Martin is respected in the community, he isn’t a magical powerhouse. In fact, he isn’t very powerful at all. Baz makes a cheeky little comment about how he must have come from mundanity with a name like “Bunce”, and he doesn’t teach any magical classes at Watford, he focuses mainly on Linguistics.

Professor Bunce is one of the people taken in by Smith-Richard’s message, and I’m kind of glad he is. It shows that Smith-Richard’s message can reach anyone, even someone as scholarly and learned as Martin. Martin Bunce is intelligent, loving, devoted, and the apple of his family’s eye. But, when push comes to shove, all that does not matter because in the end, he isn’t as magically powerful as his wife and kids. How many times has Martin been compared to his wife? How many times has he been compared to his kids? What was it like going to Watford and having to hear about how you barely scraped by in the magical classes? His whole family is obsessed with magic, his daughter's best friend is the Most Powerful Mage. Martin is constantly surrounded by people making comments about power and magic and being strong enough as a magician.

That stuff stays with you... So when you see someone performing magic that can pull you to your full potential, of COURSE you grab onto it and hope that it’s a real thing.

Something interesting to note here; Towards the end of AWTWB, Martin casts a drinking spell, and Baz makes a comment about anyone who could cast that spell in quick succession doesn’t need a power-up. Now, was Martin truly not powerful, or did he just not have the right type of magic? Could he have been a better magician if he was able to find the right situations where his magic responded better? If he was allowed to learn in a way where his magic could have reached its full potential, without the use of a horrible curse?

I have a teaching background, and I’ve worked with a lot of kids in Inclusive Education. I’ve had to differentiate practically all of my lesson plans so that all the kids in my classroom would understand the lesson and be able to reach the goals outlined for them. Admittedly, it’s been a while since I’ve taught, but I look at stuff like this in the World of Mages and my teaching ear perks up.

2) Agatha Wellbelove: Another person who comes to mind, especially with not having the right kind of magic is Agatha Wellbelove. Agatha does not see herself as a very strong magician. She tells Simon that magic for her is like holding a muscle. Pair that up with a mother who is OBSESSED with magic and power and who’s got the most power, and which magical matches will bring about powerful children, and you get someone who becomes resentful of the whole effing thing! I’m not even going to touch the whole “dating the Chosen One” thing because that’s a whole other can of worms.

When we first meet Agatha, she’s already fed up with magic, and wants nothing to do with it, and I can’t say I blame her. She spends all of Wayward Son running away from magic, and meandering through life, being still so unsure of herself and of her place in the world. She calls herself a poor excuse for a magician, yet she manages to save both herself and Penny from the NowNext by summoning fire! That’s a huge flipping deal! Not everyone can do that, yet Agatha is able to summon the power inside herself to do so! Imagine the wonderful magic she could have done if she was taught in a way that spoke to her.

In AWTWB, she is the ONLY person who is able to get through to the Goats. Her magic seems to be connected to nature (if I had to guess). The Dryad, all the way back in Carry On, tells Simon that she and the others find Agatha “peaceful”. That’s her magic. Agatha was able to come full circle by finding peace with the magic she has. She was able to find a place for it. What’s sad is that she felt the need to run away and not want to have it in her life anymore. Her magic is beautiful, yet not enough.

3) Daphne Grimm: So, this is the character that stood out to me the most. Daphne is the reason I even wanted to write this commentary. Those of you who know me, know that I adore this character. Partly because, I’m obsessed with the idea that Baz has people looking out for him and who care about him.

Anyway, Ms. Daphne Grimm is the apple of my eye essentially. I love her, I adore her, and she is treated SO UNFAIRLY by the World of Mages.

What do we know about Daphne? She is Baz’s stepmum, and has four kids with Malcolm. From the first book, there are snarky little comments about Daphne’s lack or power and magic. Baz himself makes a shitty comment about how Daphne’s “blood is as thin as gruel”, even though Daphne goes out of her way to make sure he’s got food sent to his room. She’s extra careful in making sure Baz feels safe in his own home. She suggests to Malcolm that Baz should see a therapist for everything he’s been through, making her the ONLY parent who not only acknowledges her child’s trauma, but tries to do something about it!

She is a GOOD mom!

Ok, we know that Baz wears a ton of masks of indifference in Carry On, and he softens up tremendously in Wayward Son, calling her lovely while teaching him to drive a car.

We learn a lot about Daphne in Any Way The Wind Blows. Namely that Fiona has some pretty nasty opinions about her. (That comment about her kids not being legitimate, and that she’s as “thick headed as she is thin blooded”. Now, imagine you’re Daphne, and the widower of the Great Natasha Pitch asks to marry you. That’s already some MASSIVE shoes to fill. You accept, and you do the best you can, taking care of his son and being a positive presence in his life, meanwhile going to all these posh functions where EVERYONE talks about power and magic. Then to have the sister of your husband’s first wife make snarky comments about your level of power and magic.

That stuff sticks with you.

Daphne doesn’t want her kids going to Watford, the ONLY magical school in the UK (as far as we know). She wants her children to succeed and be known for everything they are capable of doing, instead of being ridiculed for all the ways they’ll come up short. According to Baz, the only reason Daphne graduated from Watford was because she was smart enough to pass every exam (yet, Fiona still makes snarky comments about her intelligence).

Daphne is well aware of how painful it can be to live in the World of Mages and not be a powerhouse magician. Like Martin, she takes matters into her own hands and seeks out a way to make herself more powerful.

It is heartbreaking to look at these three amazing, beloved characters, and think about the suffering they have had to endure by their peers. Both Daphne and Martin get frustrated when those around them question their choice to follow Smith-Richards, stating “you don’t know what it’s like”. Luckily for Daphne, Baz makes an effort to actually understand her, and doesn’t judge her. Even when Fiona mocks her, Baz defends his stepmum. When Daphne berates herself and compares herself to Natasha, Baz reflects on how Natasha would have killed him (something Daphne would NEVER do to any of her children).

We know that Watford did not allow magical creatures, or differently-abled magicians (I use this term for a reason) to study there until the Mage came around and allowed everyone into Watford. This was a great thing, because now, every magical child was given the opportunity to learn how to speak with magic.

However, it should not have stopped there. I spoke earlier on differentiation and on finding the right place for everyone’s magic. What if magicians like Martin, and Daphne, and Agatha are all powerful in their own right, and they just haven’t found their place where their magic fits? Instead of finding the right way to teach these magicians, they are left to struggle and ultimately resent their magic and the magic of the world around them.

Do I hear a social commentary on the state of standardized education? I can’t really comment on the British Educational System, nor the American one, as I am Canadian. What I can say, from my own experience in Canadian classrooms, is that for all the talk we do on making education inclusive, there is still a big push from higher ups for high grades and standardized testing. If any of my followers are British or American and care to share your two cents, feel free to do so. Let’s keep the conversation going!

I think this post might have gotten away from me. I think my point was to act as a defense for people like Daphne and Martin who found themselves fished into a scam all for the promise of feeling like they are enough in their world. I also wanted to defend people like Agatha, who did all she could to run away from all of it, only to find the place where she (and her magic) belonged.

I remember having this discussion on Discord, and one of the points that came up was that maybe The Greatest Threat to the World of Mages was this deeply ingrained prejudice over magicians with different sorts of magic. Magicians who need that extra bit of help to find their way.

We’ve seen in this series how these prejudices can threaten to split the World of Mages apart, and it looks like magicians like Penny, Baz, and Agatha are learning from these mistakes. Only time (and us fanfiction writers) will tell how they end up shaping their world for the future generations.

[infjsnightmare]

How You Met: Rats in the House of the Dead + DOA Style

***SPOILER ALERT*** Manga spoilers

A/N: Back at it again! Spoiler alert for this one, since it contains manga-only characters. Also, I will be including the last two mentioned members of the DOA in separate editions since one of them thematically is a bit more difficult to write for and the other one will fall into a different group for their edition. I mashed the Rats and the DOA together because neither had very many characters. I also didn't include Pushkin since we don't get much of his story, although if there is anyone particularly interested in him, I could write him in the extras. More brief author's notes under the cut for those who don't mind spoilers.

Spoiler A/N: Bram Stoker will likely be included in the extras since I will have to write it for him being pre-impailed, so I'm thinking something victorian or gothic stylistically. "Kamui" will be included in the Hunting Dogs edition for obvious reasons, so he does not appear in this one. So, here we go?

Fyodor: The top shelf. Of course that's where the canned peas you needed were. You'd been staring down the cans for at least 5 minutes now, wrestling with your pride about whether or not you should climb the shelf in the supermarket. Your eyes began to glaze over in thought, but you were brought out of it by a low hum to your right. A tall, pale man stood there beside you. He must have been watching for a good few minutes, too. The second he saw your eyes turn to his direction, he put on a honey-sweet smile and it had to have been the fakest one you'd ever seen. Your eyes narrowed as his slender arm moved past you to reach up and grab the can for you. Except... he put it in his cart and began to walk away, leaving you incredulous. Just then, he stopped, tilting his head to look over his shoulder at you. A devilish smirk had taken root on his face.

"Oh my, did you need one, too?"

Ivan: The cafe you frequented was crowded during the lunch-time rush, but you were lucky to have gotten there early, finding a nice window seat. You'd been sipping your tea, eyes focused dreamily on the book in front of you. The romantic fantasy between two strangers, the air of mystery as lovers meet. The book was all that you could focus on to drown out the onslaught of customers and chatter around you. Suddenly there was a slight shadow blocking the light from the cafe. You looked up, seeing a slender man with long, angelic locks and the most serene expression of joy on his face. Your eyes scanned the porcelain cup on his hand, noticing the tag for the tea was the same as yours. When his pale lips opened to speak, the most pleasant voice rang through.

"Excuse me, but is this seat taken? There don't seem to be many open spots at this time of day."

Mushitaro: You were at the bookstore, perusing the shelves half-heartedly. You'd been bored at work and your colleague had mentioned picking up reading as a hobby. Except you had no idea where to start. You thought that maybe a mystery would keep you entertained but, beyond that, you were clueless. You saw a well dressed man in a suit with slicked hair sheepishly glancing through the mystery section, while carrying what looked like an occult-based novel. You must have looked as out-of-place as you felt, since his eyes kept wandering from the shelves back to you. You quickly snatched a random book from the shelf and turned to go check out. The man grabbed a book from an author named Yokomizo and haughtily replaced the one you had taken. He sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes in exasperation.

"If you insist on reading a mystery, you should at least make sure it is one of quality."

Sigma: You'd heard about the sky casino from the old lady at your grocery store a few days ago and thought that it might be a fun weekend trip with a few friends. So, here you were getting settled into your room before heading out to test your luck. You were wandering through the hallways for at least 10 minutes before you realized you were thoroughly lost. Your friends had already headed out together as you said you would stay behind to unpack some things. You wished you had gone with them when you had the chance. You hastened your pace as you looked around each corner for any indicator of where you should go. You quickly turned into another hallway, crashing headfirst into what may just be the most gorgeous man you'd ever seen. Your face flushed scarlet as you began an incoherent stream of "I'm sorry"s. He held his hands up to placate you, a warm smile on his face, framed by his silver and lilac hair.

"Don't worry at all. I should be the one apologizing. After all, I'm the manager. It's my job to make sure everyone is alright and here I am bumping into a customer."

Nikolai: You had just gotten done viewing the latest installment in the SAW horror movie franchise. You were jittery as you exited theater number 13. All the excitement had your nerves on fire. You enjoyed watching horror movies, but sometimes you wished your friends would agree to come with you. You threw your empty popcorn container in the trash can. Standing next to it was a super lifelike jester mannequin. It must have been, since it didn't move even a centimeter and the expression never changed. You were admiring how well made it was. It must be for a new movie coming out and you wondered what kind of movie it would be. But, it suddenly moved out of position and grabbed you, the white braid swaying behind the tall man as he smiled a maniacal grin. He let out a laugh similar to the doll jigsaw uses.

"I want to play a game!"

~After Note: You ran screaming as the man chased after you. You heard him apologizing profusely as he caught up behind you. You stopped to hear the man out as he explained that he had just wanted to get the attention of such a cute human bean. You couldn't stay mad as he bowed his head in apology with a playful wink and a mischievous smile.~

[illyaana]

Squiggles - Oikawa Tooru

Thanks to @pocky-writes for this collab! It was so fun to do~ Check out all the other writers involved in the collab here ヾ(•ω•`)o

Tags: Oikawa's POV, Angst, Minor Fluff, Cursing, Kissing, SFW, Manga Spoiler (Oikawa and Iwaizumi's future jobs)

Synopsis: You entered Oikawa's life - and it hasn't been the same ever since. (If I give anymore, it'll be spoilers TwT) (I also named Oikawa's sis Miho-)

Word Count: 4334

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All stories are basically a squiggly line - it has ups and downs with multiple loops in random spots. Some parts might be thicker or shorter than others, but all points of the story make up a giant, huge squiggly line that either brings you joy or sadness. I wanted my story to be as thick and long as possible - to outshine all the other squiggles the world has to offer. It was going to be the best squiggle ever until you came along and made it loopier and uneven.

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I remember the first day you came into our class so vividly.

I had rushed to the school to copy Iwa-chan’s homework. The Kitagawa Daiichi blazer I wore was soaked in sweat thanks to me running a few blocks in several minutes. Of course, Iwa was in the classroom, waiting for school to start. He had rolled up his sleeves and was reading the literature component assigned to us - the very book I never touched ever since volleyball practices began.

“You are of a different breed, Oikawa,” Iwa-chan mumbled as he passed his book to me, “This is the last time you’re doing this.”

No, it isn’t.

“Yes, sir.”

I pulled out my book and began to move at top speed, hoping I would finish before class began.

That’s when you opened the door, breaking my concentration.

You were glowing. The school blazer seemed so big on you - as if someone with a bigger physique gave it to you - but you look so precious in it. You had a jump in your step, a wide smile plastered on your face. Your hair looked so soft even from a mile away. You seemed so at peace with everything - even when you entered a new school.

You carried yourself with such confidence it scared me.

I loved being the confident one, the hot one, the cheerful one - yet you stole those roles from me the second you walked into the school campus.

I didn’t know what I felt; was it inferiority or was it just pure admiration? Maybe a combination of both?

All of this… It was so new to me.

I was always surrounded by those who were eager for my approval - to be part of my posse and be connected to me in some way, but I just wanted to be around you. It was the first time I ever took an interest in anyone excluding my volleyball team.

It’s weird, isn’t it? The feeling of warmth rushing through your skin, but your throat just feels tight - it doesn’t want you to say anything you would regret, so it tries to hold you back. Your palms sweat and become clammy, goosebumps rise on your skin - it is so freeing yet restricting.

I wanted to come and welcome you to the school - maybe take you around the school grounds, show off a bit at the gym, find out who you are as a person - if I got lucky, even get your phone number.

“ ‘kawa, are they new? I feel like I’ve never seen them before…” Iwaizumi asked, pulling on my rolled-up sleeve.

Of course, this had to happen, didn’t it?

Iwaizumi tried to cover his red face with his arms, but he was failing miserably. His forehead began to sweat, a trail of water dripping down his chin. His chocolate eyes glowed just like your skin - so much so you could see the hazel flecks within them. His whole arm was covered in raised goosebumps, just like mine.

He was attracted to you.

“I think they are,” I replied, hiding my feelings with a smile, “Why Iwa-chan? Oh my god Iwa, you’re blushing!”

Iwaizumi threw a book to my face, earning a groan from me.

“Shut up, Shittykawa,” he says, blushing in a deeper red, “...but yeah, I think I do.”

“Well, if you want them to swoon for you just like how almost all the girls of the school do for me, I can help you. Just with the daily fee of milk bread during recess, I can turn your single ass into a full-fledged bachelor!��� I say, trying to lighten up the mood.

“I'll buy you milk bread for lunch, either way,” he mumbled.

“See? It’s basically free, isn’t it? The best part of it all; it comes with a free gift! A box of milk every day so that you can grow taller-” Book number two found its place on my forehead once again.

“You’re such an idiot,” he says midst chuckling, “Thanks for the offer, Tooru. I think I’ll do this by myself, though.”

“Ok, then! Just so you know, the offer is always on the table,” I smirk, teasing the shorter male even more, “Don’t forget the milk.”

“I am never buying you anything ever again.”

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Classes went on as usual, but I couldn’t focus at all.

I kept on staring at you from my seat - enjoying every single thing you did. I saw how you’d raise your shoulders in frustration when you couldn’t understand a question, how you’d bite the end of your pencil when you were focusing on the class, how you’d play with your fingers when you were stressed - I was taking mental notes without even realizing it. I loved all the small little huffs you’d make when you’re agitated. Judging by how you were speeding through most of the questions, you seemed to be a smart student.

I kept on playing small scenarios that I would do to get your attention.

Maybe I’d ask you a question and act like I couldn’t understand the whole topic so that you could tutor me, or I should just ask you about your opinions on the essay topic we discussed in class, or I could tease you about that small thing you did in front of the classroom when the teacher wasn’t looking.

But I would never do that to Iwaizumi.

My mind replayed that small scene of him blushing just at the mere glance of you. If he could, he would’ve already gushed about you to me - tell me all the things I already knew just by looking at you. He’d go on and on about how you squinched your nose when you drank that hot drink a bit too early and burnt your tongue.

His squiggle was already slowly moving around you, making a loop fitted for you and you alone - and I will happily watch from the sidelines when you two finally become a thing.

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“Welcome back, Tooru!” My sister said from the kitchen, “Give me a minute, I’m helping mom prepare lunch.”

I placed my bag in front of my room and headed to the kitchen.

“Don’t make poison, please!” I tease her, enjoying the annoyed expression on her face.

“Tooru!” Mom sighed, “We’re inviting our new neighbors for dinner today. Go shower and get ready.”

I stuck my tongue out at my sister, earning an anger-filled hum from my mother. I ran to my room and soon headed to the shower to get ready.

Slinging the white towel on my shoulder, I head back to the kitchen area and set the table for the meal.

“Where are they from again?” Miho asked Mom.

“They’re apparently from Tokyo. The father passed away recently, so the mother had to bring the rest of the family to Miyagi to reduce the financial burden. Sad, isn’t it?” she replied.

“We should help them here and there,” Miho started, “We don’t need to give them money, but maybe help them get used to the city?”

I nodded, but I wasn’t present in the conversation ever since Mom mentioned Tokyo.

“Do they have a kid my age?” I ask, hoping that I’m wrong.

“I think there’s one that just transferred to your school?”

Please, don’t be who I think it is.

The doorbell rang, shaking me out of my thoughts.

I slowly headed to the door, gripping the doorknob tightly as I slowly opened the door.

I was right.

“Hello, Oikawa-san! It’s me, Y/N, from your class,” you said, a smile on your face.

“I just wanted to thank you and your family for your generous offer, but we can’t join you for dinner today,” you started, “Mom has to go get some things settled before she can come for dinner. Sorry, again…”

“What about you? Have you eaten anything yet?” My mom asked as she walked towards the door, “If you want, you can eat dinner here and bring some back for your mom.”

“Really?!” Your lips widened, “Thank you so much, aunty!”

You sat right beside me, just like Iwa-chan does when he comes over. I loved seeing you talk so comfortably with my family. I could see my mom’s adoration towards you when you talked about your life back in Tokyo. Your eyes lit up when you talked about your family - even if you were talking about your father.

You didn’t know it yet, but your presence makes my squiggle a little lighter.

“What school are you going to, Y/N?” Mom asked.

“I’m going to Kitagawa Daiichi like Oikawa-san. I am in his class, actually... “ you trail off.

“Do you want me to walk you to school? I don’t mind doing it, but Iwaizumi would be joining us too. Are you okay with that?” I ask, gripping the ends of my shirt.

For the first time in my life, I hated the fact I had to be beside Iwaizumi.

“Thanks, Oikawa-san. It means a lot,” you smiled.

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I regret asking you that question.

I had to see Iwaizumi try to flirt with you.

I had to see how you’d occasionally lean your head on my shoulder when we walked to school until Iwaizumi met up with us in the middle of our walk to school.

I had to see Iwaizumi carry your bag - something I wanted to do.

I had to see Iwaizumi make small jokes to you - something I wanted to do.

I had to see you enjoy Iwaizumi’s presence - something I wanted you to only feel for me.

I had to let it happen in front of me, didn’t I?

Books and movies never compare to the real thing; to see the person you love gush over someone you love like a sibling.

But you were closest to me, not Iwa-chan.

You came to me when you had problems, not Iwa-chan.

You stayed over at my place to relax, not Iwa-chan’s.

You watched movies with me, played games with me, told secrets to me - not Iwa-chan.

Your squiggle intertwined with mine more than Iwa-chan’s.

“Tooru,” you said as you played with the rogue strands of my hair as your head laid on my lap, “Do you want to go out on a trip?”

“What? Why?”

“We’re graduating, but we never had a trip together. It’s weird, isn’t it?” You say, slowly getting up.

I pushed your head back on my lap, earning a muffled squeal from you.

“It isn’t, to be honest,” I say, “...but I do like the idea.”

“So, we’re doing it?” you say as you wiggle your feet in excitement.

“Yeap. I’ll ask Iwa-chan if he wants to join,” I say as I grab my phone.

“I was kind of hoping that it would be just the two of us? I haven’t been able to talk to you without anyone intervening for a long time, and there’s a lot I wanna talk about.”

You looked at me, hoping for some reaction, but I couldn’t say anything.

If I was not friends with Iwaizumi, I would’ve said yes almost immediately.

I know I love you - ever since I saw you, I have.

But Iwaizumi deserves someone amazing like you.

I don’t.

“Tell me, then! I don’t think Mom’s coming home anytime soon and Miho is working right now, so there isn’t anyone who’d disturb us now,” I say through gritted teeth.

I felt your disappointment when you sighed and moved to lie down on my bed.

“I guess I’ll tell you another day.”

I felt your squiggle moving away from me - moving on without mine.

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Soon, our one-week trip to Tokyo began.

Thanks to months and months of pestering, our parents let us go by ourselves to the city you grew up in.

I could see everything in your eyes, thanks to your stories about this place. The small, quaint shops, the smell of freshly made Taiyaki at the side of the road, the small kids running on the pavement while being chased by angry parents - all of it.

“Oikawa!” you patted my shoulder, “That’s the bakery I talked about last time. You know, the one with amazing cheese tarts? Oh, that’s where my dad gave me my first cup of coffee!”

Iwaizumi chuckled as he focused on the road, admiring your love for the city.

“Why are you laughing, pine cone hair?” You tease Iwaizumi, trying to get more reactions from him.

“Nothing! You sound cute, that’s all,” he said as he focused on the road.

“Oh, really~?” You move closer to Iwaizumi and whisper something in his ear, making him blush instantly.

There it is.

That icky feeling I hate.

Why did it come now? I was with Y/N and Iwaizumi - the people I care about the most.

Go away.

Get out.

I don’t need you.

“Well, I’ll just chaperone Oikawa then, Hajime. Have fun all by yourself in a huge city you don’t know well,” you say, teasing him even more.

Hajime.

They said Hajime - not Iwaizumi.

“Geez, get a room, you two.”

“Sad I’m taking your husband away, Tooru?”

“The fuck, Y/N!” Both Iwa-chan and I scream.

You laugh as you lean back into the backseat.

“What? You both are an old couple,” you begin, “Oikawa is the flamboyant one and Iwaizumi is the man that’s only gay for Oikawa and actually thinks before doing something.”

“Did everyone think I’m gay for Oikawa?” Iwa says under his breath.

“Yeap,” you reply, “Many girls were sad, to be honest. I kept on telling them you’re straight, but they didn’t listen,” you shrug.

“And me?” I ask.

“You were labelled as the hot pansexual, lucky you,” you reply with an eye roll.

“Why did no one tell me…” Iwaizumi said to himself, worried.

“Honey~,” I began teasing the ‘pinecone’.

“Shut the fuck up, Shittykawa.”

“ ‘Shut the fuck up, Shittykawa’ - why don’t you give an actual nice nickname for the brunette over here,” you ask him, playing with the stressed driver.

“No.”

“Do it or I’m calling you pinecone for the rest of your life.”

“No.”

“Do it or I’ll tell them-” I say before getting cut off by Iwaizumi himself.

“Prettykawa.”

“Holy shit, Y/N,” I wiped my fake tears, “He called me pretty! Darling~”

“Oh my god, Oikawa,” you say, laughing as I hug Iwaizumi’s arm.

Our squiggles were intertwined and in a good way - that’s all that mattered.

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“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi looked at me with a serious face, “I think I am going to confess to them tonight.”

Wait, you are?

Please don’t.

Don’t take them away from me.

I need them.

Iwaizumi, please don’t.

“Finally! It’s about time you made your move - I think they like you too, so you have a shot.”

It’s true - I see how they stare at you.

Their eyes are filled with admiration, lips fixed in a soft smile, their hands grazing your cheek - they love you as much as you love them, Iwaizumi.

“Thanks for supporting me, Tooru. It really means a lot to me,” he says as he hugged me, “Thanks for being my best friend.”

I haven’t been a good friend, Iwa.

I fell for the same person.

I want to steal them from you so badly, but I can’t bring myself to hate you.

I want to hate you so bad, but I can’t.

This feeling… I hate it.

“Thanks for being mine, too.” I smiled, but the smile never reached my eyes.

You’re taking them away from me, Iwaizumi.

You could’ve gotten anyone else, but you took them away from me.

I don’t want to feel this - this hatred growing within, yet here I am, cursing you in my head the minute I see you.

“Go! Why are you wasting time?” I say, pushing you towards the door.

I saw the smile you gave me as you ran to her room.

You are such an amazing person, Iwa-chan.

You can care for someone who deeply hates you.

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I saw how they were basically draped around you for the next few days. They looked so happy just to be beside you.

Each day, their eyes spoke stories of love for you, Iwa. They used to come over to my place and gush about you every day, like a ritual.

You’re so fucking lucky, Iwaizumi. This isn’t fair.

They’d go on and on about your physique, your personality and the small things you’d do.

Congratulations, they finally paid attention to the things you did for them. I’m happy for you, Iwa.

I am happy for the two of you, truly.

They are truly happy.

I could’ve never done that - never.

I just wish I wasn’t walking towards the gym that day.

I saw your first kiss under that tree - the tree the three of us used to spend under while waiting for practice to start.

I saw how their hands gripped on the back of your head, pressing themselves on you. I saw how you gripped their hips oh so tightly as you showed them your passion towards them. I saw how breathless they looked the minute your lips left theirs. I saw how they grazed your chin whilst staring into your eyes in admiration.

I pictured how it would’ve been if I was in your position.

I would’ve held them tighter, pressed my forehead against theirs so that our noses would brush against each other. They’d play with the ends of my hair, going on and on about how soft each lock was like they usually do. They’d eye my lips as I stared at their soft and supple lips. I’d press the tip of my thumb on their bottom lip, enjoying the view of their parted lips made just for me and me alone. Slowly, I would kiss their cheeks, hoping for some cute reaction from them. From their cheeks, I would drag my lips to their chin, placing soft kisses here and there.

I would then press my lips against theirs, enjoying the soft noises escaping their lips.

But I never will - you’re theirs as they’re yours.

Of all places, why did you have to choose there?

I can’t come back here without thinking about that kiss now.

That icky feeling…

It’s back.

Go away.

Get out of me.

I am happy.

“Damn, Iwaizumi,” Matsun said as he approached the gym, “Y/N’s really in love with them, huh?”

“Shut it, Matsun,” Maki said, looking at me.

Of course, he’d notice.

I am in love with his friend's girlfriend, after all.

“What? He’s telling the truth; they’re so in love with each other they can’t even see that three people saw their first kiss!” I shouted, earning a growl from the black-haired male hugging Y/N.

“Out of all the times, Shittykawa…”

“You better run, he looks feral!” You shouted, laughing.

“You sure he wasn’t feral ever since he initiated that kiss? I saw that hand wandering, Iwaizumi~!” Matsukawa shouted as he ran to the gym.

“Iwaizumi isn’t innocent anymore. You aren’t part of the gang anymore man, stay back,” Hanamaki said, wiping a fake tear whilst gripping his sides, “You’ve grown up too quick, Iwa-senpai.”

“You okay, ‘kawa?” Maki said as he turned to me, rubbing my back.

“I am fine, Maki. Go ahead - go to the gym, I’ll come in a minute,” I gave him a nod as I walked to the toilet.

That day was the first day I cried over someone in school, and hopefully the last.

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“Tooru… Tohru…” You mumbled.

“Yes, my name is similar to the main character’s. What about it?” I sigh.

“We should get you a cat. Who knows, you might kiss it and it’ll become a girl?” Iwa chirped.

“That’s a cat version of Princess and the Frog,” I say, annoyed.

“Stupid,” you hit Iwa’s thigh, “Get with the program.”

Iwa groaned as he rubbed his leg, “That was really painful, dumbass.”

“Tohru, he called me dumbass,” you whined.

“I am not Tohru - it’s Tooru.”

“Brown hair, all of the people around them falling in love with them, high pitched voice… that’s you,” Iwa joked.

“Major flaw in your theory - I am not a girl.”

“Alternate universe Tohru then,” you said, enjoying the banter.

“Tohru plays with animals, I play with a volleyball team.”

“How do you know she isn’t in a volleyball team? It was never specified she isn’t part of a volleyball team.”

“It’s never specified that she is part of a volleyball team,” I say, clearly annoyed by this conversation.

“I’m getting you a cat - a ginger one,” Iwa said, grabbing his phone from the side table.

“Don’t get me a cat!”

“Get him a cat, love. He doesn’t know it yet, but he’ll love it,” you said, leaning against Iwaizumi’s chest to see his phone screen.

“Holy shit,” you said, holding back a laugh, “He’s actually looking-”

“Iwaizumi Hajime!” I scream, making both Iwaizumi and you laugh loudly.

“I was looking at a cat meme, stupid.”

I sign out of frustration and look back at the TV screen, avoiding the mischievous couple.

I eyed the way they were sitting on the couch.

You were seated in between Iwaizumi’s legs, their back pressed against his front. Their hands played with Iwaizumi’s left hand, fiddling with his fingers as they stared at the screen in front of them. Iwaizumi wasn’t looking at the screen though - he was staring at his lover who was fully immersed in the scene unfolding in front of them. His right hand grazed their right hand, enjoying the feeling of them comfortable in his arms.

You looked happy, and that’s all that mattered.

The last episode soon finished and you looked to the ceiling, stretching your neck.

“So sad it’s over,” you said, smiling.

“At least it had a good ending. I don’t think I need to remind you how heartbroken you were when we watching Banana Fish’s-”

“Don’t remind me - I’ll cry here and now.”

You got off the couch and walked towards the kitchen to get a drink.

“So,” you plopped on the couch, leaning against Iwa, “What’s the final plan, Mr Tohru?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your life after high school, of course! What’s the plan? I know Hajime is planning to be a trainer, but you never told me what your plan is.”

Hajime.

Hajime.

Hajime.

Again with the Hajime.

Just use Iwaizumi, for fuck’s sake.

“...Tooru?”

I snap out of my thoughts. “Oh.”

“You’ve been out of it recently. You’re okay, right?” You say as you walk to sit beside me.

I chuckle, looking at your concerned face.

“I’m good - just stressed about life, that’s all. I am not so sure as to what’s the next step, but it’s going pro.”

You hug me from the side, placing your head on my shoulder.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you, now? Aren’t you scared that you might make Hajime jealous?” I tease.

“I don’t know - I just feel I need to do this, like a feeling that you might do something rash.”

I felt tears wet the side of my shirt.

My eyes darted to the sight of you, sobbing, gripping on my shirt.

“Don’t you dare forget me, okay?” You say through sniffles, “I sure as hell won’t forget you.”

I cup your face in my hands, wiping off the trailing tears.

“I won’t.”

You made a huge loop on my squiggle, Y/N - I don’t I can ever forget you.

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TO: Y/N (2:30 a.m.)

It’s been so many years, Y/N.

You’ve blossomed into the amazing person I knew you’d be.

I saw Iwa-chan recently - after all, he’s training the Japan team.

I actually made it into a team - the Argentinian Volleyball team.

I kept on doubting myself, but you kept on reminding me of how good of a setter I was back in high school.

I know you’re busy being the big person in your industry - congrats on all the awards again, I keep forgetting to contact you.

If you’re down, maybe we can call? I miss your voice.

I sent the message, hoping you’d reply as fast as you used to when we were in high school.

I looked from the hotel window, trying to imagine how the scenery is back home in Miyagi.

The roaring fields, the birds flying in the sky as we walked down that small pathway, that traffic light you’d draw on while waiting for the cars to pass - I remembered it all.

I remembered it all just because you were part of it.

Funny, isn’t it? After so many years, I still think of you.

Not as my friend’s lover, but mine.

I shouldn’t have invited Iwaizumi to that trip.

I should’ve just kept you all to myself - protect you from the world.

I should’ve just kept Iwaizumi out of your life - not let him in at any point.

I should’ve just told him how I feel about you.

I tried so hard to get over you, Y/N.

I met so many other people, hoping they could fill up the hole you left when you left me for him. I had so many sour relationships just because I was comparing them to the rhetorical you that I dated. If the world had given me a second chance, I would be standing beside you - I would work to provide for you the best the world had to offer.

But in the end, your squiggle was meant to grow without mine. I had to accept it and move on, as much as it hurts.

Covid 19: Angst train :)

All reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated!!!

[lucky-clover-gazette]

prince's gambit highlights & annotations

chapter 2

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

With a rabble like this, Laurent’s pretty face wasn’t doing him any favours. Damen must have heard a dozen slurs and sly insinuations before he’d even saddled his horse. No wonder Aimeric had been furious: even Damen, who had frankly no objection to men slandering Laurent, was finding himself annoyed.

“he’s a bitch but he’s OUR bitch” 😤

They would not be riding in a straight line south. Instead, it was to be a two-week journey southwest through the Veretian provinces of Varenne and Alier, their route hugging the Vaskian mountain border. It was a change from the direct route that had been planned by the Regent, and Laurent had already sent out riders to inform the keeps.

already, damen’s involvement in laurent’s life is starting to mess with the regent’s plans. GOOD.

As the night wore on, Laurent had abandoned his deliberate comportment for a relaxed, youthful pose, drawing one knee up to his chest and slinging an arm around it. Damen had found his gaze drawn to the easy arrangement of Laurent’s limbs, the balance of wrist on knee, the long, finely articulated bones. He had been aware of a diffuse but growing tension, a sensation almost like he was waiting . . . waiting for something, unsure what it was. It was like being alone in a pit with a snake: the snake could relax, you could not.

laurent: literally just vibing during a strategy sesh damen: He Is Going To Bite Me So Hard Any Second Now

If Laurent had slept at all, he hadn’t done so in the Regent’s bed.

>:(

Laurent’s pre-dawn arrival and whatever cold bitchy remarks he had made—sharpened by a night without sleep—had been enough to eject the Regent’s men out of their beds and into a semblance of lines.

There was no immediate disaster.

really setting your expectations high here, damen

Laurent looked like a figurehead, eye-catching and useless.

There was going to be a fortnight of this, with a fight at the end of it. Damen set his jaw, kept his head down and got on with the work he had been assigned. He saw to his horse and his armour. He pitched the Prince’s tent. He moved supplies and hauled water and wood. He washed with the men. Ate. The food was good. Some things were done well. The sentries were posted promptly, and so were the outriders, taking up position with the same professionalism as the guards who had watched him in the palace. The site of the camp was well chosen.

damen should have a tv show where he yassifies military camps to his personal standards. like queer eye

‘I heard you were good at carrying tales. And what will you be doing while Jord stops that fight?’ ‘Getting massaged,’ said Damen, succinctly.

“succinctly”

‘Well? Attend me,’ said Laurent. ‘Attend,’ said Damen. The word sank into him. He felt as he had in the training arena when he had been unwilling to go near the cross. ‘Have you forgotten how?’ Laurent said. He said, ‘The last time, this did not end pleasantly.’ ‘Then I suggest you behave better,’ said Laurent.

It was the normal duty of a body servant to dress and undress his master. Laurent accepted the service with the indifference of one long used to attendance. The opening in the brocade widened, revealing the white of an undershirt pressed warm against skin by the heavy outer fabric, and by armour atop that. Laurent’s skin and the shirt were the exact same delicate shade of white. Damen pushed the garment over Laurent’s shoulders and just for a moment felt, beneath his hands, the hard, corded tension of Laurent’s back.

in a theater au, these two would go fucking crazy doing each other’s mics

On the table was the familiar map, weighted by three oranges and a cup. Arranging himself in the chair opposite Damen, casual in pants and undershirt, Laurent picked up one of the oranges and started peeling it. One corner of the map rolled up. ‘When Vere fought Akielos at Sanpelier, there was a manoeuvre that broke through our eastern flank. Tell me how that worked,’ Laurent said.

this is so domestic ahhhhhhhhhh!!!

He caught the wooden practice sword instinctively when Orlant tossed it to him. ‘You any good?’ ‘Yes,’ said Damen.

yes bitch!

‘That’s right. You don’t like fights,’ said Orlant. ‘You prefer going behind people’s backs.’

is this because he breaks up fights and reports to laurent? tf do you want him to do (fiercely defend his prince, i knowww)

‘Afraid to spar?’ said Orlant. ‘No,’ said Damen. ‘Then what? Can’t fight?’ said Orlant. ‘You’re only here to fuck the Prince?’ Damen swung.

“I CAN DO MULTIPLE THINGS”

Damen supposed he should feel flattered that Laurent had set his best swordsmen to guard him in the palace.

they're so "i can't decide" by the scissor sisters

‘You were looking for me?’ Laurent didn’t answer, and Damen couldn’t interpret his expression. ‘What is it?’ said Damen. ‘You’re better than I am.’ Damen couldn’t help his amused breath of reaction to that, or the long, scrolling look from Laurent’s head to his toes and back again, which was probably a little insulting. But really. Laurent flushed. The colour hit his cheeks hard, and a muscle tightened in his jaw as whatever he felt was forcibly repressed. It was not like any reaction that Damen had ever seen from him before, and he couldn’t resist pushing it a little further. ‘Why? Do you want to spar? We can keep it friendly,’ Damen said. ‘No,’ said Laurent.

this might be the first moment where laurent is clearly flustered by damen in a non-disgusted way. the blush!!! i think laurent finds competence very attractive, especially in areas where he also excels. with some people it can just be a matter of platonic respect, but in this case it’s almost certainly hot to him that damen is such an impressive swordsman—even better than laurent himself.

‘When I fought Govart,’ said Damen, ‘I had my lungs full of chalis.’ Another slow nod. ‘I’m not sure how it is in Akielos,’ said Jord, ‘but . . . you shouldn’t take that stuff before a fight. Slows your reflexes. Saps your strength. Just some friendly advice.’ ‘Thank you,’ said Damen, after a long, drawn out moment had passed.

it doesn’t even occur to jord that laurent drugged damen before the fight. shows how highly he thinks of laurent, and gives us a hint about laurent’s typical behavior when he hasn’t just been jumpscared by his brother’s killer in chains

‘Aimeric’s not a child lured in with a honeyed treat. He’s Guion’s fourth son. He knows that his being here splits his father’s loyalty. It’s half the reason he joined me. He wants his father’s attention,’ said Laurent. ‘If you’re not here to talk to me about Aimeric, why are you here?’

laurent offering aimeric this, like, annoying your elders solidary… it’s strategic for sure, but maybe that’s a tiny part of it too?

I can’t believe you fear Govart. If you did, you’d never have set me against him in the ring.

WAIT so we’ve gone from “laurent hates me and wants me dead” to “i know you didn’t want me dead” ?? i guess it could make sense, though—laurent would have wanted to kill damen himself, right?

‘Why do you give me good advice?’ asked Laurent. Isn’t that why you brought me with you? Instead of speaking those words aloud, Damen said, ‘Why don’t you take any of it?’

this is like dirty talk to me. yessss consider each other as intellectual equals with mutual incredulity

He knew by now that Laurent never acted precipitously, but always walked away and gave himself time and space alone to think.

oh, that’s what you think? note to self: remember this line. it’ll be funny

[mattholicguilt]

cats in the cradle by Duck_Life

Fandoms: Supernatural [Gen, No Archive Warnings Apply] Words: 1,745

Tags: Claire Novak & Patience Turner, Cats, Psychic Abilities, Grandparents & Grandchildren, Friendship, Found Family, claire novak will see a stray animal and be like, is anyone gonna project onto this, and not wait for an answer

Summary: Claire helps Patience hone her abilities. Patience helps Claire track down a cat.

Written for SPN Women Week Day 1. Prompt: "skills"

Bub is missing again.

“Bub” is the name of a mean stray cat missing a chunk from his ear. Claire’s been leaving cat food out for the ugly old thing for weeks now, and whenever he doesn’t come running she panics.

So, for the third time, Patience finds herself enlisted in the search for a cat that Claire doesn’t even technically own. “If it’s gonna bother you this much every time,” Patience says, “why don’t you just take it in? You know, get him his shots, a collar, a microchip.”

Claire makes a face at her before turning back to look at the road. She’s been driving around the neighborhood slowly, scoping out every shrub and checking under every parked car. “Bub doesn’t want to be chained down,” she explains. “He’s a free spirit.”

Alright, well, Patience is too tired to unpack that right now. She lets it lie and looks out the passenger’s side window, alert for any signs of movement. “Maybe he was never a stray at all,” she tries, “and his owner finally tracked him down and brought him home.”

“Do you know that?” Claire asks.

Claire’s always asking if Patience knows things— what happened on Jody’s date last weekend, what Dean’s middle name is, whether or not Alex is the one who ate the last ice cream sandwich in the freezer. Patience keeps trying to explain that she can only see the future. “Psychic” might be a misnomer— her abilities are precognitive, not telepathic.

She basically gets previews, little spoilers about what’s to come. And though she’s been working at it, she can’t seem to get her psychic abilities to do the kind of reading and divination her grandma could do. She gets glimpses with no context, no backstory.

Missouri Moseley could walk into a room and feel every ounce of heartbreak, grief, hope and faith in the people standing there. Patience can barely pick up on it when Alex and Claire are pissed at each other.

Still, Claire brings her along whenever the cat goes missing. Seems to think her ESP can home in on missing animals. Patience keeps telling her otherwise, and yet here she is, once again. That’s the trouble with having no social life and no better plans.

Maybe she should join a book club.

Claire rounds the corner, eyes darting around for any sight of the mangy cat. The first time Bub vanished from Claire’s sight, all the neighbors seemed intent to help. They explained they hadn’t seen the cat, but hoped Claire would find him soon and offered baked goods and platitudes in the meantime.

But these things have an expiration date. You can only lose the cat so many times before the routine gets old and the neighbors lose interest.

“My educated guess ?” Patience sighs. “The cat’ll come back when it gets hungry. Just like before.”

Claire makes a tch sound and mouths “educated guess” under her breath. Apparently, because Patience is psychic she’s supposed to be omniscient. “So which is it?” Claire says. “Is he back with his ‘real’ owners or is he going to come home when he gets hungry?”

“Don’t be a jerk,” Patience says. “I’m here, aren’t I? I’m helping you.”

“... Yeah. You are,” Claire says, ducking her head. “Sorry.” Her eyes scan the road ahead, looking for the telltale streak of a cat darting out from under a parked car or vanishing around a tree trunk. Still nothing. “Hey, Patience the Pet Psychic,” Claire says. “You should write that down, that’d be a great children’s book.”

“Very funny,” Patience says, rolling her eyes. She’s silent for a few moments and then says, “Cla-aire the Monster Slayer.”

“That doesn’t really rhyme.”

“Sure it does.”

When the sky darkens and the streetlights flick on, Claire drives them back to the house, Bub-less and dejected. “I’m sure he’s fine,” Patience tries.

Claire bunches her shoulders, the collar of her leather jacket looking like a cat’s raised hackles. Maybe, Patience thinks, that’s the connection— Claire in many ways resembles an angry cat. She and Bub might be kindred spirits.

“I’m just tired,” Claire says, yanking the keys out of the ignition. “We’ll try again tomorrow.”

Patience considers pointing out that Claire could at least ask instead of just assuming , considers reminding Claire that she has her own life outside of playing “pet psychic.”

But she doesn’t actually have anything to do tomorrow. Or the rest of the week. And as futile as it feels riding around looking for a runaway cat, it is something to do. And it makes Claire feel better.

And… straining her psychic muscles to pick up on any trace of the old tomcat is at least better than doing nothing and letting her abilities degrade. Over the last year, she’s been trying to find ways to train her brain, shape her psychic visions into something useful.

Jody’s supportive, but she, like most people, doesn’t know anything about being psychic. Kaia’s got a fraught relationship with her own special skills and usually chooses not to talk to Patience about seeing the future, and Alex is so entrenched in nursing and hunting that the few “normal” moments she gets at home are devoted to unwinding and relaxing.

Which makes Claire Patience’s most ardent supporter in developing her psychic abilities. A very grouchy, blonde and mostly clueless Yoda. What she lacks in background knowledge she makes up for in persistence.

“Hey, Patience, guess which hand?” Claire will ask, holding the last fortune cookie behind her back. “Hey, Patience, what number am I thinking of?” Claire will ask, perched on the arm of the couch. “Hey, Patience, heads or tails?” Claire will ask, flipping a coin to catch it in midair.

That’s not how it works. That’s not how any of it works— Patience can’t predict things at will. Her psychic visions operate on a schedule of their own, with no concern for Patience’s own convenience or comfort. One minute, she’s watching shitty reality TV while Alex nods off on her shoulder. The next, she’s watching Jody narrowly avoid being bitten by a vampire.

It’s a lot different from just guessing a coin toss. Still. Patience can’t help but think that her grandma would’ve passed all of Claire’s little tests with flying colors.

That night, Patience doesn’t dream about anything— at least, not anything useful. She has an anxiety dream about being lost in Aldi, roaming the aisles with increasing frustration. But nothing about the future. Nothing about Bub the cat.

She’s pouring herself a bowl of cereal when Claire stomps inside, the porch door swinging shut behind her. “Still gone,” she says darkly, grabbing the cereal box and her own bowl. “Food hasn’t been touched.”

“Claire,” Patience says, “why don’t we just go to the SPCA? You can get yourself a cat that’s not, you know—”

“What? Not damaged? Not a lost cause? Not hard to love?”

Whoa, Patience wants to say. “A cat that’s not missing ,” she finishes. “We can get him his shots and a collar and everything.”

“I don’t— I don’t just want some random cat,” Claire says. “I want to find Bub. I want… I want to find him and bring him home. I have to bring him home.”

“I know,” Patience says, and just like that she does . She does know.

She knows everything, feels everything, the aching loss in Claire’s bones that’s both recent and so, so old. Memories of Claire hitchhiking and stealing and conning her way through the country, desperately chasing a mother who was desperately chasing a dead man. Jimmy Novak’s voice in her head, his face seen through Claire’s eyes, Please, Castiel, take me. Just take me. Again, his forehead pressed to hers, Take care of your mom, okay, bub?

Bub.

Patience looks at Claire. Sees her, in a way she hasn’t been able to see anyone before. “Bub… ‘bub’ is what your dad used to call you.”

Claire squints at her. “Uh. Yeah,” she says. “Wait, I didn’t… I didn’t tell you that.”

“No,” Patience breathes, meeting her eyes across the kitchen, “you didn’t.”

Slowly, a grin spreads across Claire’s face. “Holy shit , Patience, you just… ? You just did that. You, like, read me.”

“I, uh, I didn’t know. That I could do that,” Patience says, caught between marveling at this new development and feeling self-conscious at intruding on Claire’s emotions and her past.

Claire doesn’t seem put off at all. She’s actually bouncing with excitement. “We gotta test this out. Oh my God. It’s like a whole new Pokemon evolution for you.”

“It’s not really. Like that. In any way.”

But Claire is already humming the Pokemon theme song. She grabs her car keys. “Alright, well, let’s go look for that cat. I’ve got a good feeling about today.”

“I read you, Claire, that doesn’t mean I can read the cat,” Patience reminds her.

“Yeah, yeah, but you can still help me look,” Claire says. “I don’t need your third eye, just the two on your face.”

“That’s… yeah, fine,” Patience acquiesces. To be honest, she’s buzzing with the knowledge of what she can do with her powers. If Claire’s happy to be her test subject, she’ll spend all day with the girl. “Just let me grab a coffee.”

“Ooh, me too. Wait!” She wiggles her fingers toward Patience. “Do you Know how I like my coffee?”

“Half-and-half. And enough sugar to kill you,” Patience reels off. “But that’s not because I’m psychic. I’ve just seen you fix yourself coffee before.”

“Y’know, I think the line between ‘psychic’ and ‘observant’ is thinner than you might think.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Patience says, and then pretends to stumble backward toward the table, overacting the part. “Oh, oh, I’m having a vision… I see you … making coffee for us…”

Claire rolls her eyes, but she dutifully sets her keys down and busies herself with getting the travel mugs out. “That’s not gonna work for everything, you know.”

“Aaah I see you bringing Jody’s suit to the dry cleaners next week. I also see you driving me to the science museum.”

“Hilarious.”

Patience smiles at her. It’s nice to have someone else get excited about her powers. It’s nice to be allowed to be excited about this, to learn a new skill and have it mean something good to someone besides herself. She doesn’t feel like a freak or a failure. She just feels… like a psychic.

She feels like her grandma would be proud.

[cherry-gemz]

Summary: This is a continuation of the movie Before We Go and my interpretation and imagination of an A/U. Brooke is you (Y/N) and Nick is still Nick :)

Prompt: "Just admit that I'm right." for @the-ce-horniest-book-club Drunk Drabbles for Nick Vaughan.

Pairings: Nick Vaughan x Y/N

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: <2k...is this a drabble still? Oopsies XD

A/N: I watched this movie for the first time just last week. It's now one of my top 3 Cevans movies! While I'm all for a romantic, serendipitous, spontaneous trope...much like Before Sunrise *no spoilers*, the ending was great, but I wanted a different spin. No pressure...yah, right! Either way, hope you enjoy xx.

Tags: @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss @tonystankschild @a-little-counter-esperanto

****************************************************************

You sniff and rub the end of your coat sleeve with your nose. Had to be the chill in the air, you thought. Not the fact that you just spent the most amazing and life changing night with a man you just met hours before and it was ending.

You stare out the train’s window; the gentle hum of the cart gliding across the steel tracks echoed in your thoughts. You shook your head in thinking that you made a mistake. I should have stayed...I should have told him how I felt…

“Nick. It's you again. Listen. I want to give you one more piece of advice. You're gonna be playing one night... Grand Central... thinking of every reason in the world to not go see the girl that broke your heart. Then, you're gonna meet somebody. And now, at first, she's gonna seem… icy. You're gonna know right away she's trouble. She's gonna take all your money. You're probably gonna get punched in the face. But stay with her; you're gonna need her a lot more than she needs you. And at the end of the night, you're gonna want to say some things, but don't. Don't ruin it. It's nothing she doesn't already know. Just give her a kiss. Wish her good luck. And thank her. Thank her for showing you that you can love more than one person in this life.”

He was unbelievably charming. You said so yourself. His raw talent with the trumpet was beautiful and different from what you were used to. The suburbia of the Boston bubble was what you were forced to live in now. You were from London, you were cultured and refined. Sure things with Michael were exciting at first, but the ho hum of the daily diatribe of routine became loathsome. Dépaysement. But you still never wavered in your marriage. Unlike Michael who had crossed that sacred line and lost your trust. It wasn't even fully the physical aspect that he went to another woman. It was the intimacy of telling her his deepest desires and then some that hurt the most. That he would want to share that with anyone else but you. But tonight. Tonight was what made you see clearly.

"It's possible, isn't it? It's possible that you could meet somebody who's perfect for you even though you're committed to somebody else," you asked as you bit your lip.

"No, no, see, I think if you're committed to somebody, you don't allow yourself to find perfection in someone else."

You found yourself blushing and cupping your cheek in thoughts of Nick. He was right. The whole night was a cluster mess of you trying to get home before Michael so you'd be able to throw away that wretched note. That he'd come to his senses and forget Linny. That he'd realized he was a fool and you'd start over. Just like old times.

However, slowly that feeling of reconciliation faded away little by little as each hour in the city passed. You couldn't pinpoint it exactly, but somehow the scrappy trumpet player Nick Vaughan etched his way into your icy heart and left an impression and stayed.

His fluffy, dark hair - so soft and inviting for you to rake your fingers through it was enough to drive you mad. His scruffy beard, which tickled when you kissed. You already loved ghosting your palms over it softly and imagined being able to do it whenever you wished. He said earlier into the night you weren't his type; you scoffed, but we're annoyed that it bothered you. You were a classic model of what guys were into, looks wise. Sure, your attitude was what rubbed some people the wrong way, but Americans really were too sensitive.

He however...he was the full package. Every toothy grin, wink, and full hearty laugh. He was addicting. He was a dead ringer for a heartthrob, but you also couldn't hate the guy for it. He was the friend you'd call to bail you out of jail at 4am and the boyfriend that you could see settling down with. It was nauseating really.

And then his lips. His soft lips...you can’t believe you kissed him in the hotel room. And then again at the train station. But you would have kicked yourself for not doing so in the first place. The way your fingers interlaced themselves on his terry cloth robe, how desperately you wanted to press your body against his. All you wanted was for him to feel that burning need within the apex between your thighs and extinguish it all night. But it was more than that, he was what you were missing. But you were kidding yourself. You weren’t running to Michael, you were running away from Nick.

But why? Because of the unknown? Because he actually knew who you were deep down inside? How could a man you barely knew, change you? Change what you thought was true, what you thought was love?

You dove your hand into your wool jacket’s pockets to push any thoughts of self-doubt, when you realize there was a piece of cardstock. You were puzzled to find it and immediately smiled in recognizing the hotel survey card. You bit your lip as you read down the survey questions one by one and notice Nick’s handwriting at the bottom, ‘turn over’ with an arrow.

Curious you turn over the hotel card and he’s written the word ‘yes’. Yes? You furrow your brow and contemplate further what he would be saying yes to. You think about the night - the time at the bar, helping him with Hannah, when you went to the psychic reading. Yes? What in the world - and then you turn the card back over and realize that on the second to last question it asked “Will you be likely to return?”

None of the boxes are checked, but he’d written ‘yes’ on the back. Yes. Yes he’ll return? Where? To the hotel? But when? You look up and rush to think about stopping the train dead in its tracks to return back to Grand Station. You breathe out heavily and come to terms that this isn’t a movie. He’s not chasing you down the tracks, jumping on the train to find you. Or is he? You wouldn’t put it past him. The whole night was filled with serendipitous concourses, this would be icing on the cake. You dart your head around to see if he’s in the cable car. It’s like in every rom com movie ending, the man of your dreams will be right there. He’s somehow charmed his way into boarding the train and found you waiting like a princess in her high tower. The train car is dark and bleak, only a few passengers are riding it as it’s the first route to Boston on a Sunday. You peer over to see if he’s in the next cart, but alas he is not. You slump in your seat and rub your thumb methodically over his words.

"Have you ever had a feeling that somebody was going to play a major part in your life?” you ask.

“Yeah."

“Do you know the most interesting thing about hotel art? It's what's on the back.”

It’s then you realize you have to return to New York. This story wasn’t about you and Michael anymore. No, it was about the man who selflessly helped you while you were in need, not only at your dire hour, but metaphorically as well. This was meant to be. You were meant to miss your train, break your phone, and meet the handsome man named Nick Vaughn. You knew he’d still be in the city because of his audition for the day with Duke at least, if you could just get to him somehow...

*

Your knees bounced as you sat on a cushioned chair in the hotel lobby. You had planned to wait there all day, but then realized the $13 train ticket was your only way of providing you security back home. So you went home. Confronted Michael. Cursed, cried, and then relief rushed over you as he had read your letter and how you knew about the affair. How you wanted to throw fists on his chest and tell him how much you hated him. But once you saw him, you found it didn't matter to you anymore. Someone else was worth fighting for. Your marriage was over. The hatred and spite you once had for your husband had dissipated. Your world didn't end like you thought it would. This wasn't your only chance at love. You were choosing to be happy, whether it was with Nick or not. This was the first time you were going to jump without having a net.

And Nick was wrong. Michael didn't want to work things out, he was coming to tell you that he loved you, but that and he'd be returning to Atlanta for good. The house, car, everything was yours: Nick said so himself, you gotta be okay with not being okay. So you walked away. You made the choice just like the psychic said and took it in stride, you faced the music.

However now you found yourself back in New York. Not the once stranded woman at a crossroads less than 24 hours before, but the woman that made a choice. You were worried that Nick would see it as you running away again. Running away because Michael didn't choose you. But in reality you didn't choose each other.

Still without an ID, you took your car and better against the four hour drive to the city and hoped a cop wouldn't pull you over. You thought of the night in the hotel. The laughs, the closeness you two encountered. The playful and cheeky way he could make you feel seen. You were starting to get nervous, what if he doesn't show up? What if I missed my chance?

"I'm an idiot," you murmur to yourself. "I can't believe I'm here."

You stand up and realize there Nick was there in your path. He looked a little worn, obviously from staying up all night. But he had changed and showered from the looks of it, and his signature trumpet case held in his hand.

"Well look who it is. The biggest loser in New York."

You laughed and blushed at the sight of him. He slung his trumpet case over his broad shoulder and walked over to close the gap.

“Just admit that I’m right.”

"Admit what?" You ask as you find yourself touching his jacket sleeve.

"Admit that you couldn't get enough of me." You hitched a breath from his words.

"You can say that."

"I can't believe you came back," he responded. His blue eyes gazed into yours as he brushed away a tendril of hair from your face.

"I read your answer to the survey...on the back."

"The stay did exceed my expectations and I did say I would return," he smiles.

"And here you are."

"Here I am…" he pulls away slightly as he's reminded that you're married.

"I jumped," you replied.

He's taken back by your statement and furrows his brow.

"What? With what?"

"I told Michael it was over."

"Wow. I'm so...sorry, Y/N."

"Don't be. You said so yourself, at some point it was time to face the music."

He nodded, absorbing the information.

"Say what's in your head."

He shook his head and grinned,"I'm just glad you came back is all."

"Yeah? How'd you know?"

"I didn't. Just sure as hell hoped you would."

He intertwines your fingers with his and holds tight. Like a missing puzzle piece found, your hand fits perfectly with his.

"Whaddya say we get out of here?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"I may know a place," he smiles devilishly and gives your knuckles a kiss.

You grab his dress shirt collar and turn him towards you. He runs his hands through your hair and places his lips upon yours, kissing you deeply. It's a kiss so passionate, so perfect - that after you part, neither open your eyes for a few moments afterwards and he embraces you tightly.

"Good, because I'm not going anywhere."

[deciphered-narrator]

Valentine's Writing Tag

thanks to @dontjudgemeimawriter for tagging me! also, i feel like i should preface this by saying i don't write a whole lot of romance

1. Which of your characters have some romantic chemistry?

Hopefully the ones that actually end up together, which I'll talk about in the rest of this post. I don't think I have any that have chemistry that don't make something out of it, other than like Safere and Kiyn (in Ignis), who have strong platonic chemistry that could be misread, because i wanted to straightbait the audience lol

2. Which of your characters do you think readers will ship?

In AITO, i hope no one will ship anyone with Jamie since he's aroace, but it might happen. There's also a relationship between Daria and a minor character that has interesting implications - i didn't want to make it explicitly romantic since bad things happen to that minor character, but you could read a lot into it. Also if anyone ends up shipping Safere and Aster in Ignis i would find that amusing, considering what happens in the next book

3. Which of your characters are slated to be an endgame relationship?

spoilers :) There's a romantic arc that's set up in the second half of Ignis and continues into the next two books in that trilogy

4. Are there any established relationships in your WIPs? If so, how did they meet?

Kit and Ebele in SOTF. They had a romantic relationship before the book started that fell off when Kit left, but when he returns in the beginning of the story they get back together. They're just cute together, and they have an inverse character arc thing going on where Kit loses his faith and Ebele gains hers. Also, Kit goes by like four different names (his deadname, Christopher, Chris, Kit) in the book because names are a Thing and she's the only one to call him by the nickname "Kit"

5. What’s your dream love confession scene between your characters?

i've never really thought about that lol

i'll tag: @maximillian-rex, @hottubraccoon, @artbyeloquent, and @isherwoodj, if you haven't done this already

[bonniebelleklyde]

The Small Hours

Note: This fic takes place within what I believe we’re now calling the Mistletoe Universe. Chronologically, it takes place after A Storm to Weather and before Mistletoe. I would highly recommend reading both first to have a full context for this! Thanks to the lovely anon who sent in the prompt for this-- Logan returning the favor from A Storm to Weather and comforting Janus regarding an irrational fear.

Word Count: 2651

Pairing: Loceit (romantic)

Warnings: The warning is a spoiler! Check the tags if concerned.

Summary: In the small hours of the morning, Logan finds Janus in a rather unusual position.

When Logan rose before the sun—not an entirely uncommon occurrence—and made his way to the kitchen to brew a very strong pot of coffee, he was not particularly alarmed at the sight of a figure, obscured by the darkness of the room, sitting atop the refrigerator. He simply nodded in its direction.

“Good morning, Virgil,” he said before stifling a yawn. “It’s a bit early for you, yes?”

There was nothing but silence in response. That was...odd. Concerned that something was troubling Virgil beyond his normal levels of anxiety, Logan flipped the light switch and jumped a bit when the light revealed that it was not Virgil at all sitting on top of the refrigerator, but Janus.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I—what are you doing up there?”

Logan was hardly an expert in these things, but something was definitely off about Janus, even absent the fact that Logan had never seen anyone other than Virgil choose this particular seating arrangement. Janus was fidgeting with his gloves, a habit that Logan had come to realize as indicative of nervousness in the deceitful side. He was also noticeably avoiding eye contact and worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Unsure how to proceed, Logan followed Janus’s lead and averted his eyes, waiting for some sort of response. When he received none, he furrowed his brows in confusion. Janus was not exactly known for holding his tongue.

“Is something wrong?” he tried again, endeavoring to communicate through his tone that he was not prying for curiosity’s sake, but rather attempting to offer whatever assistance might be required. Logan doubted he was successful in this endeavor—he was rarely successful in conveying any tone to speak of, his words always seeming to come out dry and hollow.

“No, no, don’t mind me. Nothing’s wrong,” Janus said in a voice so quiet that Logan suspected it would have been drowned out by the sound of the coffee maker had the logical side turned it on.

Logan cocked his head to one side, turning over Janus’s words in his mind for a moment before gently shrugging his shoulders.

“You know, one would think—given who you are—that you would be better at that.”

It was Janus’s turn to furrow his brows.

“Better at what?”

“Lying.”

Janus blinked hard, his mouth falling open in an expression that Logan couldn’t be sure indicated offense or shock.

“I am literal deceit.”

Logan nodded, a small smirk crossing his face. “My point exactly— literal deceit should be more…adept at deception, no?”

Janus scratched at the back of his neck and did not speak for several long moments. Logan cursed himself inwardly— he hadn’t meant to offend, but he almost certainly had. He had essentially just told Janus (to his face, no less) that the other was bad at his job.

“I’m sorry,” he said after it became clear Janus was not planning on providing any sort of response. “I did not mean to imply that you are always—”

Janus cut Logan off by gently holding up his gloved hand, a tentative smile on his face.

“I know,” he said simply. “And you’re right. It was a lie. But I don’t…”

It was Logan’s turn to interrupt.  “Janus. I don’t intend to pry.”

Logan was reminded of the night when Janus had first become privy to the logical side’s irrational fear of thunder. He certainly hadn’t pried—had not mocked Logan or passed judgment in any way. He had not forced Logan to talk about his fear—a fact that Logan was exceedingly grateful for. No, Janus had simply…stayed. He’d borne out the storm beside him, with a steadying arm around Logan’s shoulders, for no other discernible reason than the simple fact that Logan had been afraid. Janus…Janus had been lovely. And he’d gone on to be equally lovely during the handful of thunderstorms that had occurred since that night. Almost immediately after the first crash of thunder sounded from each storm, Janus would materialize wherever Logan happened to be at the time. He wouldn’t say a word about the storm itself or about Logan’s silly fear. He’d beckon for Logan to sit beside them, and together they’d make their way through one novel or another, taking turns reading aloud to each other until either the storm had passed or they had drifted into sleep. Though his fear of thunder had never subsided, Logan became strangely fond of thunderstorms. Increasingly, he’d found himself wanting to…well. It didn’t matter what he wanted.

What did matter was that, through every embarrassing moment of it all, Janus was lovely. And while lovely was not a word Logan would ever attribute to himself, the very least he could do was—in the face of Janus’s obvious discomfort—afford the other his privacy.

There was a subtle change in Janus’s expression at Logan’s words. It seemed…softer, somehow. Logan quickly averted his eyes once again when he caught himself starting to stare. The last thing he wanted to do was make Janus any more uncomfortable than he apparently already was. He wondered briefly if Janus, too, was reminded of the storms. He became suddenly aware of how long the silence between them had stretched on for, and he coughed to dispel the strange tension hanging in the air. Remembering his motivation for entering the kitchen in the first place, Logan crossed the room to the coffee maker.

“Coffee?” he offered before chuckling softly when Janus wrinkled his nose. “Not a fellow caffeine enthusiast, then?”

“Oh, I drink plenty of tea,” Janus responded, his tone finally sounding a bit lighter now. “But I’ll never understand how you can drink that stuff—coffee is disgusting.”

Logan snorted in amusement as he began spooning out coffee grounds from his hidden stockpile. “Are you sure? You might find that you like mine— I keep the quality grounds well hidden from the others. You’ll find that the taste of coffee can vary quite widely depending on the type and origin of beans used to prepare it.”

“Is that so?” Janus returned, one eyebrow raised in skepticism. “Very well, I’ll try it if you like, but I make no promises regarding my reaction.”

Logan hummed in amusement, grinning as he got the brew started. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Janus nervously scanning the kitchen floor. Was there some sort of rodent about? Logan wondered idly but did not ask. Instead, he summoned a book—The Mystery of Edwin Drood—from its place on his nightstand, brandishing it for Janus to see before taking a seat at the kitchen table.

“I believe we left off on Chapter Three?” Logan asked quietly, turning to the appropriate page and looking to Janus’s face to determine whether this was the right course of action.

Janus’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and his grin widened just a bit. He shifted his position so that his back rested against the wall behind the refrigerator and closed his eyes.

“Yes, that sounds about right.”

Logan sported his own small grin as he lay the book out on the table in front of him.

“Excellent. Though I still don’t understand why you chose a book that is only half finished,” he remarked, his tone only slightly teasing.

Janus’s grin faltered at that, his eyes snapping open, and Logan worried that he may have inadvertently insulted the deceitful side once again. But Janus spoke before Logan could make his hurried apologies, his tone not offended but hesitant, perhaps even a bit nervous.

“I had thought…er, well…I thought that perhaps it might be interesting to trade theories about how it might have ended once we’ve finished. If you’d like to, that is.”

Logan was taken aback for a moment at the knowledge that Janus had selected this title because he was interested in discussing theories with him. That was…unusual. Logan was far more accustomed to his own academic musings being tolerated at best. The idea that someone valued them enough to actively seek them out…well, that was…that was quite pleasant. Logan felt something he couldn’t name—a warmth of some sort—bubble up in his chest, and he beamed up at Janus, not having the slightest clue why the other seemed so very nervous to reveal this incredible information to him.

“I think I would enjoy that immensely,” he said genuinely. “There are few things I find more satisfying than parsing out a good mystery, as you well know.”

Janus must have read Logan’s sincerity in his face, because the deceitful side’s apprehension melted away to be replaced by a brilliant smile to match Logan’s own. The corners of Logan’s lips were still tipped up as he watched Janus’s eyes fall closed again and as Logan began to read from the book.

Before long, he was interrupted by a buzzing sound signaling that the pot of coffee had finished brewing. Logan paused his reading and strode over to the cupboard to retrieve two mugs. When he’d poured both drinks, he looked to Janus with questioning eyes.

“Will you be joining me at the table, or should I hand this to you up there?”

He asked the question gently, kindly in a way that he hoped invited Janus to reveal whether there was some way that Logan could help him with his current predicament without pushing too forcefully. Janus averted his eyes and chewed at his lip.

“I…don’t normally make a habit of sitting up here,” he said slowly after several moments.

“No, you don’t,” Logan confirmed simply with a nod, leaning against the counter as he waited for the other to continue.

“It’s ridiculous,” Janus said through gritted teeth, clearly frustrated. “I don’t…I am being ridiculous.”

Janus’s face was bright red, and he seemed as if he was endeavoring to look anywhere but Logan’s face, and Logan turned his own gaze downward in an effort to minimize the other’s discomfort.

“More ridiculous than shaking like a leaf during every thunderstorm?” Logan asked softly, a small self-deprecating smile on his face.

At that, Janus’s eyes snapped up immediately to meet Logan’s.

“You are not ridiculous,” and something about the amount of sheer conviction in Janus’s voice stole every bit of Logan’s breath from him. “You are…”

Janus trailed off, either unable to come up with a word for what Logan was or unwilling to voice whatever word he may have had in mind.

“Well. Regardless,” the deceitful side continued, glancing away from Logan’s face once again. “I am being ridiculous. It really is so trivial, I…I should just come down…”

When Janus made no move to come down off of the refrigerator despite his words, Logan thought for a moment before offering, “Might there be anything I could do that would make coming down at all easier for you?”

It was clear from the hesitant look on Janus’s face that there was. In that moment, Logan wished he could be someone else—Roman or Patton perhaps, who were so much better at assuaging fears and dealing in emotions than Logan was. Janus deserved someone who was more practiced at this—who knew how to help Janus in the extraordinary way that Janus had helped Logan. Still, it was far too early for anyone else to be awake, so he supposed he would have to do.

“For what it is worth,” he said quietly, not having the slightest idea of what to say other than the simple truth, “I could never think you are ridiculous. You could tell me that you are up there to hide from the coffee pot, and I would think no less of you. You could tell me anything at all. I would never reveal the information to anyone else, and I would certainly never judge you.”

The words were inadequate, he was sure of it, but they were all Logan had. He watched with concern as Janus’s brow furrowed and his face contorted into an expression that Logan was not able to read. At the very least, Logan knew that Janus could be certain he was not lying. At long last, the deceitful side met his eyes once more with that same, unreadable expression.

“I’m afraid of spiders,” Janus finally confessed, his tone strained. “Virgil’s stupid pet must have escaped, because I woke up with the damned thing on my pillow, and it followed me into the kitchen.”

“Oh!” Logan responded, somewhat relieved that the situation was one that he could help with after all—and likely very easily at that. “I’ve actually assisted in retrieving it for Virgil several times. It should be no trouble doing so again. Do you have any idea where it might be now?”

Janus was hiding his face behind his hands now.

“I think it crawled under the oven, the last I saw.”

Roughly ten minutes later and with the practiced use of paper and string, Logan had successfully located the spider under the stove and seen it returned to its cage in Virgil’s room. Janus choked out a strained but sincere thank you, his face now an alarming shade of red.

“Thank me by coming down here and trying my coffee. I’ll make a convert out of you yet,” Logan teased, hoping the change in subject would lessen Janus’s embarrassment.

Logan lifted his hand in an offer to help Janus down from the refrigerator. Janus stared at the hand stretched out to him for just a moment before taking it and climbing down onto the counter and then finally to the floor. Logan found himself wishing—however irrationally—that Janus would forget to let go of his hand when his feet were once again on the ground, that Logan could remove Janus’s glove and interlace their fingers together, that they could—

Logan shook his head as if to physically shake that particular line of thought from his mind. He wondered briefly what it meant that he was thinking about such things with increasing frequency and resolved to consult Roman or Patton about the matter later. For now, he focused on keeping away the frown that threatened to form when Janus inevitably did let go of his hand.

“Alright,” Janus said with a small sigh as he took a seat at the table and looked toward Logan expectantly. “let’s get this over with.”

Logan smirked and handed a mug to Janus before taking the seat across from him. He nearly snorted his own coffee through his nose at the look of pure disgust on Janus’s face the moment the liquid had reached his tongue.

“I take it you’re not convinced?” he asked, not entirely successful in his effort to ward off a bout of laughter.

“This is revolting,” Janus said, glaring at his mug as though it had insulted him. “This is worse than what the others drink. I don’t know how you can stand it.”

Logan snickered and downed his own coffee in three gulps, more to prove a point than anything.

“Mark my words, I’ll sway you one day,” he promised, though not entirely serious.

“Can’t imagine how,” Janus said with a roll of his eyes before stretching out his hand. “Here, give me the book; I’ll pick up where you left off.”

Logan couldn’t help but grin as he handed the volume over. They had never before engaged in this strange practice of reading aloud to one another outside the context of a distraction from fear. Janus caught the grin and shot one back as he flipped to the correct page.

“May as well keep going. I’m eager to hear your thoughts on the identity of the murderer.”

There was that peculiar warmth in Logan’s chest again. This time, he simply allowed himself to bask in it. He would find clarity and answers regarding these strange and pleasant feelings Janus seemed to provoke in him later. For now, it was more than enough that they were there.