#so I could try again a different day if it's sunnier

[blujayonthewing]

problem with wanting to paint-- even in a sketchbook you try to carry with you all the time-- is that SO often the thing that specifically makes me go 'ooohh maybe I should paint that' is a lighting condition that has changed completely by the time I can even finish retrieving my supplies from my bag

[actuallysaiyan]

Hi hi hi I hope you are having a great day!🫶🏻 Can I request Nanami c F.reader please. NSFW. The reader is kinda shy person.

warnings: flirting, smut, unprotected sex, reader is shyyyy, nipple play, dry humping, rough sex, creampie finish

word count: 1.9k

pairings: Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader

summary: you and Kento are always flirting, despite your shyness, and he finally decides to make his move

taglist: @beneathstarryskies @seireiteihellbutterfly @an-ever-angry-bi @namikyento

The tension between you and Nanami was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. Anyone who was around could tell that he was a changed man around you. How often did he smile at others? How often did Kento even laugh at anyone’s jokes? The often stoic and serious businessman was now more open and sunnier than usual. With you around, things were so much different.

You are shy with him. He dotes on you a lot. He loves seeing how bashful you are. You’re humble too, which he finds so endearing. With lots of other people wanting to show off all the time, you really show him a side of yourself that most people are too scared to show. You show him vulnerability and softness that he has missed.

Still, with gentle touches and lingering stares, the tension between you grows. You’re much too shy to make the first move. And Kento is enjoying this growing tension more than he’d like to admit. It makes him so hard that by the end of the day, he has to stop into one of the bathrooms to jerk off.

One day, it’s just the two of you in his office. Everyone has taken off for the day, and you two are the only ones left. All day he’s been flirting with you, making you blush and try to hide away from him. But it’s impossible to hide from this beautiful man. He’s got you cornered in the best way possible.

“Let’s end this for today, yeah? I think we deserve a chance to relax.”

And with that, he closes the laptop you were writing your report on. He gently takes your hand, which makes your face heat up. You try your best to look away, but he’s quick to cup your chin and make you look at him. Then he leans in to kiss your cheek so softly.

“You’re so shy, sweetheart. Why don’t you come sit with me and we can talk?”

You nod your head, your mouth feels so dry. But you get up on your shaky legs and you walk over to the leather couch in his office. He helps you sit and then he’s sitting next to you. Kento doesn’t beat around the bush. He’s had enough teasing.

His lips are so soft on yours, but you are shaking as he wraps one arm around you to bring you even closer. His breath is warm on your face as he slowly pulls away. He removes his sunglasses so he can have a better look at you. Your cheeks are all warm and your eyes won’t meet his.

“Do you have any idea how badly I want you?” He kisses you again. “The way you are around me drives me crazy.”

You can barely say anything. You’re just too shy and embarrassed right now. Mostly embarrassed that his words have such an effect on you. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you feel your hands shaking as you try to come to terms with what’s going on between you and him.

“Don’t be too shy, darling.” He quips, leaning in to kiss you once more.

It’s a searing and heated kiss. His tongue slips into your mouth, caressing yours. He tastes like the bitterness of a black coffee, but it soothes you instantly. The scent of his cologne, musk and leather, completely invades your every sense. When he pulls away, there’s a string of saliva that connects both of you.

“Listen to me, sweetheart…” he kisses you again. “I want to make you feel good, but you’re going to need to help me out a little. Think you can do that?”

You nod your head, “y-yes…”

Nanami smirks, “That’s a good girl.”

And then his hands begin caressing you all over. He starts with your shoulders, rubbing the stress away. Then his hands trail down your arms, gently massaging your fingers. Then back up to your neck, gently rubbing you there too. Then you watch as his nimble fingers begin to unbutton your blouse. You once again cannot look into his eyes.

“What’s the matter? Shy all of a sudden? I thought we were past that.” Nanami smirks at you. 

You try to look at him, but when he has your blouse open, you feel your body quaking. Kento looks at your breasts, his cheeks a little warm now too. Then he dips down to press soft kisses to your throat. Your breath hitches as you feel his lips descending down your neck to your chest. He watches you as he nibbles on your collarbone for a moment.

His large hands cup your breasts and push them together. They’re nearly spilling out of your lacy bra. Kento feels his heart racing in his chest now. Then he reaches around you to unclasp your bra. The moment the garment is loosened, your breasts spill out completely.

“You’re beautiful,” he comments before he helps you out of the bra and the blouse,

His eyes are darkened. The soft amber color now more of a dark whiskey color, and there’s something within them you can barely read. It’s like a wolf looking at a bunny rabbit, just about to pounce on it to devour it whole. You swallow hard and Nanami enjoys watching your reactions like this.

“Scared, little one?” he whispers in a husky tone. “Don’t need to be worried, I’ll take good care of you.”

He then helps you onto his lap. Immediately, you feel his erection poking you. You whine as the stimulation makes you even more bashful than before. Nanami’s not ready to let you go. His hands cup your bare breasts, and he’s playing with your nipples now. Tugging and twisting gently, just enough to have you panting and moaning.

“Now now,” he says softly. “You’ll need to make more noise than that. How else will I know what you enjoy?”

One of his hands comes down to cup your ass, squeezing it softly. You let out a startled squeal, making you move closer to him. You end up accidentally grinding against his cock, which makes him grunt. His eyes are even darker now that you’ve done this.

“Oh is that what you wanted?”

Suddenly, his hands move down to your hips to begin guiding you to grind against him. You lean in to hide your face in the crook of his neck, and he chuckles darkly. He lets you hide for now, but he knows he’s going to get you to talk to him eventually. He’ll have you screaming his name before he’s done.

Your panties get wetter and stickier as he guides you to grind and rub against his erection. Both of you are panting now, and he feels your warm breath on his neck. One of his hands comes up to cradle the back of your head, and he pulls you in for another heated kiss. You moan in between the kisses, and then you shudder as he sucks on your tongue.

“Enough fooling around, huh? You want the real deal, don’t you?”

He then throws you down onto the sofa, spreading your thighs with his knee. Your cheeks are so flush right now. You’re panting from this stimulation. Your panties are so wet, they are clinging to your folds. Kento leans in to capture your lips in another kiss. This time, he slows his pace down a bit.

His long fingers tease and tantalize your clothed pussy, making your hips buck up involuntarily. You’re so wanton for him now, your shyness is beginning to slip away. Still, you’re having a hard time looking into his eyes. Then his fingers curl around the waistband of your panties, pulling them down fully. Your skirt is pushed up around your waist. All that’s left are those cute stockings that cling to your thighs.

“How cute,” Kento comments as he begins kissing down your body again. “So fuckin’ cute for me.”

You whimper as his fingers part your folds, spreading your juices all over your cunt. You let out a whine when he begins to rub your swollen nub. His other hand unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants. With expertise, he pulls his pants down past his ass and he begins to palm the obvious bulge in his boxer briefs.

“Talk to me, sweetheart. Tell me what you need,” he teases you again.

Your heart flutters in your chest. You want him so fucking badly, but you don’t even know what words to use. He watches you carefully, teasing you as he pulls his underwear down. Then he lets his cock slip between your folds, making you even more dizzy than before. Your mouth goes dry once more, and you can’t do much but whine as the tip of his fat cock rubs against your swollen clit.

“Come on, darling. Tell me what you need,”

You won’t make him repeat himself again. Your eyes snap open and you sit up on the couch. You have a newfound burst of confidence, and you pull on his tie to bring him even closer to you. You close the gap between you two, kissing him so passionately. Kento’s cock throbs in excitement.

“I need you,” you manage to say.

Without another word, Kento prods your little hole before slipping into you. His balls are now plus against your ass, and he’s enjoying every little movement of your walls fluttering around him to adjust to his big size. He smirks and licks his lips at the sight of you struggling to take him.

He begins to rock his hips, fast and rough. He’s really had enough of this slow teasing, and he’s going to make sure you both enjoy this. His big hands push your thighs up so that your ankles are resting on his shoulders. With him this deep inside of you, you know you can’t hold on for much longer. His tip keeps bumping against that sweet spot deep inside of you, making you squirm in his grasp.

“Gonna cum for me, pretty girl? Let go for me,”

A few more thrusts has you coming undone. Your eyes screw shut and this intense pleasure builds to its peak. He fucks you rougher and harder, prolonging your sweet orgasm. Your juices are gushing all over him, messing up his pants and his shirt. But Kento doesn’t even seem to care. He continues to rut against you, harder and faster like an animal in heat.

“Gonna cum inside, darling. Is it okay? Can I please cum inside?”

You look up at him and you manage to mutter a “yes” between your sweet cries of love. He holds onto you tighter, and you’re sure you’re going to have his fingerprints bruised onto your skin once he’s done with you. Your mind is turning to mush the more he pounds into your sopping wet pussy. He grits his teeth and his grip on your thighs tightens even more.

“Fuck I’m cumming! I’m cumming inside!”

His cock throbs with every spurt of hot cum he pumps into you. His hips stutter but don’t falter as he fucks himself into you, making his orgasm last even longer. Then slowly and gradually, he stops himself. Kento slumps himself on top of you, but careful not to crush you with his weight. His face rests on your breasts. You reach out to play with his hair.

“No need to be shy with me anymore, okay darling?” He looks up at you.

“Okay, Kento.”

He smiles. He’s in heaven.

[little-tf2-time]

Hello hello!

Welcome in!

Welcome to my very own TF2 AGERE RP BLOG!!

This blog will be centered around my own headcanons for the characters, including agere/petre/agedre related headcanons, gender/sexuality headcanons and personality headcanons!

Of course i will try to keep their personalities as close to canon as i can when running this sort of blog, but theres going to definitely be a lot out of character most likely!

More about the blog (dni, how this works, who all is able to answer questions, etc!) Under the cut!

Anon names though first : ✂️ anon/anon✂️, blossom🌸

Who all can you send asks for?

You can send asks for;

The mercs (spy, scout, engineer, pyro, heavy, medic, soldier, demo, sniper)!

Miss pauling!

Saxton hale!

Only red team right now, but im working on some ideas for blue team which could be added later!!

How does this work?

Its rather simple, just send in an in character ask and youll get an in character reply!

If you send a not in character ask, or an ask towards me or about the lore, ill answer accordingly!

You can send the requests to specific characters, just specify who!

Sadly right now there wont be any art to go along with it but theres a chance ill start adding some if i can later on :)

I will be starting a headcanons/fics/oneshot blog too, so you can also send questions there when its up, but i dont mind answering them now!

Is there a story or plot to this?

Sorta yes! The main idea is the usual, the merce live in the same house/base and hang out out of work! Only differences is that miss pauling lives there too, and saxton lives close enough to come by a lot!

This is set in the red base specifically, where its much warmer and sunnier!

In this, red team is the originals and blue team are slightly tweaked clones! Its confusing and wont be brought up much though. The blue team acts different and have different likes/dislikes, and they live in a very cold area.

What you should know about the cloning thing is that the spys are both fathers of their respective scouts, red spy and red scout and blue spy and blue scout! Scouts ma does sorta know about the clones, she just chooses not to think abt it too much /hj

Who regresses in this? Why? To what? (+ pronouns)

(Thisll be long hang in there)

Scout (he/they) - age regressor and babysitter! He regresses usually around 4 to 8 usually, but some days he can get down to 2. His main cg is engineer but he also likes to be cared for by spy

Sniper (he/him) - flip! He regresses to around 5 or 6 usually, only gets littler under high stress. He mainly likes being cared for by heavy, but doesnt mind to be babysat by saxton or engie

Pyro (they/it) - age regressor and temporary babysitter sometimes! Has the biggest age range, 1 to 15, but usually stays in the 5 to 8 range, but sometimes dips all the way to 1 or 2. Their primary cg is engineer, and they are almost always a bit little honestly, they also love being babysat by heavy and medic!

Engineer (they/he) - flip with caregiver lean! He doesnt regress often and he even less will he let himself be cared for without a fuss, but when he does he goes veeery young, 0 to 3 at best! Hes a very warm father cg though and the main one for pyro and scout

Spy (she/he/they, fluctuating preference) - flip, but also caregiver lean! When he does regress she regresses to 0 - 2! Otherwise their the primary caregiger for miss pauling, secondary for scout, and usually the most prepared one

Heavy (he/they) - sorta flip? He regresses so rarely that its only been around medic, not many of the of the others even KNOW he regresses actually. He regresses around 0 to 1, and its usually an extreme stress regression. Though when hes caring hes one of the best! Usually just a babysitter to most, but the main cg to sniper

Medic (it/he/they, no preference) - flip again! Hes both an age and pet regressor. He regressed pretty young, 2-5, and pet regresses into a dove/domestic pigeon! When he cares hes decent at it, a little scary sometimes but hes improving! He usually is the doctor for many stuffed animals and their littles (colorful stickers gallore with him)

Soldier (it/they/he) - age regressor and pet regressor! Age regression to around 6 to 10 usually, and pet regresses to a raccoon and puppy! Main cg is saxton, but often settles with engie happily

Demo (he/they/xe) - age regressor and sometimes babysitter! Regresses a lot due to being drunk, or being hungover. Usually regresses to about 2 to 7

Miss Pauling (she/they) - sorta flip! She regresses more then she acts as a cg but shes absolutely fine with babysitting! She regresses very young, only around 0 to 6, and a lot of the time she'll slip when stressed or overly tired (she has to be dragged away from her work a lot too)

Saxton (he/she) - caregiver and babysitter! Main caregiver for soldier (being the only one who can keep up with him) but has babysat all the frequent regressors! Hes the least prepared but the kids have fun! Usually is called "uncle" by most

Dni!

Basic dni criteria (terfs/homophobs/racists etc)

Anti agere/petre

NSFW accounts of any kind

Ddlg and any varient

Pedos/zoos whatever just those kinda people and anyone who supports them!!

Gross people

I will delete asks or comments, or ignore messages if they are blatently harmful and are intended to hurt

[thefallenprincesss]

“Let me hold your heart like a flower…”

starter for @creganstarkrp 💗

Princess Rhaenya had the tendency to escape… she did that since she was a teenager and it hadn’t stop since. This wasn’t the first time she had gotten into an argument with her mother and left.

She hadn’t left in a while… she hadn’t done her little journeys in ages. But here she was… at 22 and traveling once again like she did as a child. This time she wanted to try somewhere different…

the Princess had been traveling across the North… for some time now. This time which wasn’t her normal route… she always went towards Dragonstone… or even just somewhere sunnier.

But today… she had different plans, she flew right across the castle… feeling the snowy air cross her face. She could feel the coldness immediately hitting her. It had finally been three days… no rest breaks.

This was Winterfell

There was a crowd of people point and screaming as she was landing… she gripped onto the reins of the dragon saddle as she waited for her landing. She pulled up to force Auerilys to land safely and she did.

She cursed under her breath realizing how cold it was out in Winterfell… now regretting her decision, realizing she probably should’ve went to a warmer location.

She had realized that there was no dragon keepers around… as she cursed under her breath once again. Not very ladylike… her mother would say. She took her time out of the saddle as she hopped down into the snow.

She looked up at the Castle in front of her… as she dragged her dragon to walk just a tad bit more… but she had stopped right in the courtyard.

“Auerilys, you cannot be serious right now,” she sighed as she turned to face her dragon. “Just because you get princess treatment at home does not mean you get princess treatment everywhere else,”

The silverish golden dragon refused again and she sat right down in the middle of snow as she rested her head onto the snow.

The princess rolled her eyes, “Fine until I can figure out a place for you to stay… do not move. And do not eat anything. If you eat something without my permission, I swear we will have to flee again…”

Rhaenya was stopped by guards… as they looked at her. She looked at them slightly tilting her shaking from the cold. “Yes? do you need something?”

“The Lord Cregan Stark wishes an audience,” The guard stated.

Rhaenya raised an eyebrow… “hm, How does he know I am already here…?”

The guard chuckled, “Everyone knows you are here princess, Your Dragon is a dead giveaway,”

The princess rolled her eyes, as she was not used to be called her “Royal Highness…” Something was not normal like Dragonstone or King’s Landing.

She walked into the castle… it was much different than her home. The guards followed her, “Your highness… do you know where you are going…?”

The girl nodded her head no… she acted like she did… but it clearly failed. “Lead me,”

The two guards chuckled at the Princess as they lead her to the Great Hall. She admired the architecture of the castle. She slightly shivered feeling more of the cold air coming in and the dress she was wearing, was not the right fitted one.

When the doors opened the court caller introduced her… “Princess Rhaenya of House Targaryen!”

Heads turned towards her as she felt like she was the queen… She was hesitant. She saw at the end of the Hall… Lord Cregan Stark.

The Princess walked down to meet to the lord… her eyes turned seeing everyone respect her was a first.

Lord Cregan Stark decided to meet her in the middle… as he bowed and kissed her hand. She looked down at him and helped him up. “No need for that my lord…”

Her eyes stayed on his… as a small smile appeared on her face. “I wish to stay here… for just a little bit of time. Not to long, just so my dragon and I can get some rest… we will back to our journey…”

It was quiet… she looked at Cregan… her body slightly shaking from the cold… “And… if I would have a new wardrobe…”

The gasp from ladies were heard across the room… realizing the Princess had brought nothing with her. She truly needed a new wardrobe… seeing she was in the thinnest layer of fabric a woman can wear in Wintefell.

There was slightly generosity in Cregan’s eyes as she smiled… “and I apologize for my dragon… in the courtyard… she would refuse to move my lord..”

She had her head down in slight embarrassment… but her eyes kept slightly glancing up to take a look at the handsome… lord.

[thecosmicangel]

🔮Libra the next 2-3 months predictions & messages part 1🔮

⭐️Breaking contracts ,Controlling , restricting limiting relationships, & emotional patters

⭐️ making new plans

⭐️Boost of Passion , drive, creativity

⭐️Discovering your limitless potential

⭐️Receiving clarity , emotional creative blocks are being removed

⭐️Becoming aware of your potential new energy comes when you follow inner guidance towards success

⭐️Something you have decided to act on is about to hit it off and start forward momentum

⭐️A new business or project is beginning to work and you are seeing positive progress

⭐️A new beginning full of optimism, creativity , fun , joy after a period of healing and being in a low mental state or energy

⭐️If you felt misaligned or not in alignment with your higher self you are about to receive signs or be pushed to move into alignment

⭐️If you were feeling unsafe or unstable in your life this feeling is about to change , you will begin to feel comfortable and confident again

⭐️Work on your self esteem , confidence and root chakra - you need attention and healing work on your foundation- stability - structure - boundaries- inner child- discipline. You can possibly be having fears of losing your safety and security or having family

⭐️problems or just tension around family or home life.

⭐️Know that any problems at home are being resolved and you will be experiencing sunnier days at home

⭐️your home life or energy at home has been clouded by stagnant energy could be beneficial to take a walk or take some time outdoors to bringhten your mood or help you receive clarity ,

⭐️cleanse & protect your space

⭐️Reaarrenge you furniture , deep clean your home , or just spice up your home and decorate , paint a wall or add small changes around home or room for a creativity boost and physical change can help your get out of stagnancy or laziness. Find ways to help you be more creative & connect with your inner child , have some fun and stop taking life so seriously it’s not that serious!

⭐️Find balance once you get your groove back, try not to lose you routine or new burst of energy. Continue this forward movement towards but go at a pace you are comfortable with, remember that everyone is on different clocks you don’t gotta be on everyone else’s timing. You aren’t losing out on anything or too far behind in life you are right where you need to be.

If you would like a more personal reading, I am now offering $15 readings for the month of July . Dm me for more info or follow my IG.

Follow me on IG

@_thecosmicangel

Tip Me 🤑

Cash app: $ZmAria777

Disclaimer! Take what resonates and leave what doesn’t.

⚠️This is not to be taken as professional medical or legal advice always consult a professional for advice or help.

[adultalternative]

2022 Best of is finally here. I had like three-quarters of the list figured out pretty early on, but just had a general playlist where I added people before I listened to them to try to get more artists in at once. Turned out that was a bad idea.

Renaissance- First new Beyonce era I could appreciate live due to it instantly being on streaming. It is hard to write a real review for this album, because this is a going out album and I am still quarantining, and I primarily listen to my year end albums in a Free for All shuffle mode, but Beyonce still finds a way to surprise people 9 years after her self-titled album. My favorite songs are Break My Soul, All Up In Your Mind, Virgo’s Groove, and Thique.

Las Ruinas- Rico Nasty swung big and it paid off. Rock, G-Funk, drum and bass (amongst other genres) all make appearances on this album. People seemed to constantly mention that it was a mixtape, and you can tell, but so what? I liked the different sounds and Rico was able to stand on her own in each song without getting lost. Gotsta Get Paid, Intrusive, Into the Dark, Black Punk and Easy are my favorite songs.

Giving the World Away- Hatchie was able to make an ethereal baggy album. Another casualty of still quarantining, as this album was meant to be listened to on your way back from nights out in quirky outdoor downtown cafes in the spring. Shoegaze guitars make an appearance throughout this album, too. My favorite songs are Giving the World Away, Till We Run Out of Air, Don't Leave Me in the Rain, and This Enchanted.

Unsoothing Interior- Vero went from a cute EP to directly commanding first chair at a reality show reunion with this album. While usually, 90’s inspired albums are power pop/sunnier alternative rock and sometimes grunge, Vero dip into shoegaze and noise rock. If you primarily like Kim Gordon’s songs on Sonic Youth, then this album is for you. I like the songs Cupid, Sex, Me & TV Shows, and Beluga the most.

Sometimes, Forever- Embarrassed to say this, but this is the first Soccer Mommy album that totally got me. Her usual guitar only sound is balanced with sonic experiments like the jazzy Unholy Affliction. Also, her lyrics got to me more with songs like Don’t Ask Me and Feel it All the Time.

Nova Twins- Fun, angry and brashy. I like Cleopatra and Antagonist.

Bronco- Austin Butler wasn’t the only Elvis impressionist this year. Orville Peck sanded down his edges to make a more general country album, with unfortunately, less commercial pay off than there could have been. Bronco and Outta Time are still highlights.

Skinty Fia- Fontaines DC continue to excel at dark and brooding alternative rock music. Jackie Down the Line, In ár gCroíthe go deo, and I Love You are my highlights.

Strawberry- Dreamy alternative dance music. Patience etc… and Happy Happy are the highlights, but with such a concise project, just listen to all of it.

Stumpwork- I never would have thought that post punk would be a genre that I would fast track to my best of list, but here we are. Dry Cleaning continues to soundtrack rainy day Sundays with their detached, spoken word vocals with their expressive guitars. I like Anna Calls from the Arctic, Liberty Logs, and Kwendy Kups.

Lady for Sale- In a year with both crossover and alternative country releases, this release with a throwback sound drew my attention the most. While I was initially just drawn to Lola Kirke, the actress from underrated Mistress America, making a countrypolitan album as a Brit, I was soon surprised by how good (and accurate) it was. I like Pink Sky and Falling in Love Again.

Hypnos- Ravyn Lenae continues to be ahead of her peers at such a young age. A good take on psychedelic R&B. My favorite songs are Venom and Inside Out.

SQUEEZE- Very unique mishmash of heavier, noisy, alternative music, and more mellow singer-songwriter music. Now that I’m thinking about it, it sort of reminds me of To Bring You My Love. I enjoy the epicness of The Greatest and the sadness in Tried to Understand. 

SOS- Too late of a release (and not relevant enough in a quarantine lifestyle) for me to appreciate, but it did a good job at putting its foot in the door. I like Blind, Kill Bill, and Gone Girl.

Crash- Though Sucker and Charli could have been interpreted as pop compromise albums by some of the fans, this album definitely steals the title from either with no contest, but not in a bad way. I don’t really know how to describe this album, but it’s more Superlove and Doin’ It than Blame it On Your Love. Good Ones, Yuck, Lightning, and What You Think of Me are my favorite songs, although New Shapes is also good.

Coping Mechanism- Willow came back with an even rockier album. My favorite songs are Split, ur a stranger, and Maybe it’s my Fault.

Blue Rev- Alvvays went from a punchline for random indie bands with corny names to making a late in the year highlight for me out of nowhere. Great shoegaze in catchy pop formats for walks outside. I like Pharmacist, Easy On Your Own, and the Saint Etienne-esque Very Online Guy.

Traumazine- Megan thee Stallion had a rogue’s gallery that would be perfect for a 90’s kids action cartoon this year (Or the anime inspired visualizers for the songs on Youtube). Unfortunately, for her antagonists, you can’t keep Megan down. My favorite songs are Her, Anxiety, Red Wine, and Flip Flop.

American Gurl- Kilo Kish came back with a poppier version of her EPs. Good combination of poppy sheen and melodies but still experimental. My favorite songs are Death Fantasy, Choice Cowboy, and American Gurl. 

Froge.mp3- A drum and bass album that came out of nowhere but very catchy and fun. I like the songs Words and on and on.

Black Girl Magic- Honey Dijon provides us with more house bops after working with Beyonce for Renaissance. My favorite songs are Everybody and Downtown.

Finally, New- While They Hate Change's Finally, New is called experimental hip hop, for me the drum and bass made it more accessible and memorable. Some Days I Hate My Voice is my favorite song.

Us Ephemeral- Very coherent electronic album. A little Toonami and a little Telepopmusik. The title track is my favorite song.

Kaitlin Butts- Short sweet to the point country music with the right amount of sadness. What else can she do and bored if I don’t do a great job at capturing the melancholy of being bored in a rural area without being prepared for the bigger pond yet.

SRSQ-  Theatrical dream pop that makes me feel like I’m flying in the night. Used to Love, Saved for Summer, and Elan Vital are my favorites. It reminds me of Tamaryn but also Sky Ferreira.

Janky Star- I found Grace Ives too late in 2019 to include her in my best of (Or have her compete fairly), but Janky Star had a better chance this year. Grace makes cool music to dance to, good for either an imaginary pop up silent rave or by yourself in a kitchen while doing chores. Burn Bridges and Loose are my favorites.

[jpmay23-kb]

Day 12 - Kyoto

Day two in Kyoto was much sunnier than the previous day, and we made our way to Sanjusangendo, getting to take time to admire all of the statues there. After passing through the room with the statues, there were kiosks that you could use to help identify specific statues, as they all have slightly different designs and unique names. After that, we walked our way to Kiyomizudera. That was the place most crowded with tourists we saw during the whole trip. It was a little overwhelming to see so many people. After spending some time there, we walked down to another tempe, where we got to briefly see a traditional wedding taking place. The wedding party looked to have a mix of people in traditional and modern clothes, and I wondered if the wedding was planned with a mix of traditional and modern aspects for the reception.

We were allowed to disband once we reached Gion, and a few of us were set on trying to rent kimonos. Unfortunately,, considering the time, most places were no longer lending them out, however we stumbled across a kimono resale shop where we could buy some for relatively cheap. I personally didn’t find one that I liked enough to buy there and tried another two resale stores without any luck. We made our way back to the hotel and I entered the shopping complex next to it, planning on just going to the Don Quixote, when I saw a small shop nestled at the back of the first floor that had kimonos, and a special 1,000-5,000 yen sale bin. I approached, curious but not expecting to find anything. Low and behold, I found a sky blue yukata with a cloud pattern that I liked a lot, and it was only 1,100 yen. I told myself at the beginning of the trip that I wasn’t going to spend the money on a yukata or a kimono, but as I looked at what I’d found, it sparked too much joy for me not to get it. And so, once again, it’s the little unplanned things and places that bring the best experiences.

[amoveablejake]

My Five Key Songs of February 2023

Round ups a-plenty. 

It may be the end of February but I am already thinking a little about what the key songs for March will be. I’m looking slightly ahead because there are a few songs that have appeared at the tail end of this month that aren’t quite going to make the cut and I wonder if they will be able to stick around long enough to be on the next list. I have a feeling they will alongside some tracks that will arise from a trip that will be taking place soon but that is all to come. For now it is time to look at the final key songs of the winter as we move into spring which I’ve decided even if the weather doesn’t agree. So, lets take a look at what February 2023 had in store in my headphones.

First up, ‘California Stars’ by Wilco and Billy Bragg. 

There are certain tracks that I always expect to be on the shortlist for each month and artists that I would be very surprised if they didn’t make an appearance with at least one offering. Each month, Wilco are there and for February it is their song with Billy Bragg ‘California Stars’ that I have become particularly taken with. As I found this track from ‘Mermaid Avenue’ it did make me think of being in California but more than that it put me in mind of going on a journey and feeling the sun shining on you somewhere a bit different. It is definitely a more American song so it might not exactly fit where I am about to venture off to however, its the sort of song that will probably be playing regardless as its the sort of track that feels like a magnet for memories to be associated with it to then listen back to in years to come and bask in the glow of. 

Second up for February, ‘Movement 1′ by Floating Points. 

After last week’s album of the week piece and my glowing adoration for ‘Promises’ from which ‘Movement 1′ has been lifted from, it is perhaps a surprise that a song from Floating Points is not the key song for this month. First of all, it is not because it has faced some very tough competition but also because there is no rush for it to feature now in order to make its way to the end of year playlist. ‘Promises’ and its truly mesmerising and breathtaking songs I am sure will be playing throughout the year and the chance will arise again for them to take their place and even if that doesn’t happen this year, it might very well in the next. There is no rush. ‘Promises’ feels to me like it will be on my roster for a long, long time and as I listen to ‘Movement 1′ now I am reminded of that with every note and melody. Primarily because everytime I listen to this album whilst I am trying to do something it leads me away from that task and straight into its open musical arms where you simply exist in the rich soundscape it has created to draw on again and again. Perfection. 

The third song up to bat, ‘Truth Interlude’ by Mndsgn. 

When I first heard ‘Truth Interlude’ one afternoon in February, it was the exact song that I needed in that moment. A much needed breath of fresh air to help put a spring in your step. Coming in at one minute and seven seconds long, it is really only an interlude as its title would suggest and should be listened to in exactly that way. This is a song to turn to when you need that little moment to help you get out of your head and to lean back for a moment. I don’t listen to it a great deal but whenever I do need a song to quickly work its way into my system and to help me breathe, I know that I can rely on ‘Truth Interlude’ and infact Mndsgn’s ‘Rare Pleasures’ album itself is also a worthy addition into any library and one that will help to form a bridge out of the winter and into sunnier days. 

The penultimate song for this month, ‘Drive My Car (Misaki)’.

Where would I be without the ‘Drive My Car’ soundtrack. As will come as no surprise at all to regular readers, Eiko Ishibashi’s seminal musical work is appearing yet again this month and really, how could it not. I have at times this month been listening to the soundtrack on repeat throughout the day and into the evening as its eternal magic continues to have a hold on me that really, I am all the better for. This month’s standout song from the record ‘Drive My Car (Misaki)’ is one that I remember listening to for the first time and feeling it sweep me up into it and take a hold of me. Everytime I listen to this song I feel that same initial feeling of warmth and tranquility as listening to it feels almost like a homecoming. This track and the album as a whole have become over the past year so integral to my day to day and self that it now almost feels like a limb or at the very least an extension of my self that I am truly all the better for having. 

Then, without further ado, the key song for February 2023 is, ‘Long Long Time’ by Linda Ronstadt. 

When I was looking over my shortlist for the tracks that could potentially feature today, the moment I saw ‘Long Long Time’ I knew that it had to be the key song. Yes, it is featuring because of the beautiful episode of ‘The Last of Us’ that I have lifted it from. One of the most exquisite episodes of television that I have ever seen and if you haven’t seen it quite yet, oh boy, does that need to change. It is also featuring here because as I made my way to Brighton back at the beginning of the month and had a few train issues, I listened to Linda Ronstadt’s music to help me through the last part of that journey where it did feel a little bit like ‘The Last of Us’ actually. But really, ‘Long Long Time’ has to be the key song for February 2023 because Ronstadt’s voice here is indescribable. This feels like Ronstadt at her very best and one of the best country songs around or rather to me it is. Some of the notes that Ronstadt hits here are the sort of ones that could move you to tears instantly and when it accompanied that episode of Joel and Ellie’s journey, there was no hope of a dry eye left really was there. 

The key songs for February 2023, there we have it and as I say in my head it is now the end of winter as March will herald in the next season. How that will impact the song choices for next month and the music that I listen to, I really don’t know but what I do know is that if anything is going to make an impact it will be somewhere a little different that I will be soon. Stay tuned for more and a different setting for my ongoing detective series. 

-Jake, a man getting to the end of ‘College Park’ and going right back to the beginning, 26/02/2023

[forestxleo]

As he listened to Jake, Leo nodded along. "I get it," he replied when the other said that he spent a lot of time there with his family. "I've been there a couple of times, and it's...different, but I mean that in like a good way, you know? I always thought I might like it there, like that kind of lifestyle. It seems...simpler. Easier. I could see myself just sitting in a field playing guitar and just being content." For a moment, Leo thought about this image he had in his mind, a wistful expression on his face. But a second later, he blinked and snapped back to reality, smiling and laughing softly. "Anyway," he said, "it's really cool that you do that, go there, help out, that kind of thing. Are they pretty cool with that? Like...they're pretty welcoming, aren't they?" Leo had always gotten that impression, but he didn't have a lot of experience with the commune members. If Leo thought he liked Jake's smile, he really liked his laugh, and it brought out yet another smile of his own. It was official: Leo thought Jake was incredibly cute, and he was definitely glad that he'd come into the store today. The man had a knack for bringing out a sunnier disposition, which Leo had thought was near impossible. For a moment, he just grinned at Jake, nodding. "Yeah, so it seems," Leo stated. "Sometimes it's nice having things in common too, like an appreciation of music." He just looked back at Jake, letting the man make his own conclusions about what he might be referring to - or who.

"It's, like, super rad that we're both into the same instruments," Leo stated a moment later. "I think the piano just seems like...elegant, even though you can play all sorts of music, not just the classical sort. And guitar - especially the acoustic guitar - seems to hold so much feeling, you know what I mean? At least that's the way I see it." He wondered if Jake would agree. The way that Jake blushed at Leo's compliment made it all worth it, and he was thought about how cute that red tinge on the other's cheeks were. "Well you should have been hearing that from so many people," Leo replied. "I can say it once in awhile if you want so you don't forget it." With as cute as Jake was, Leo liked that he was shy too. The man seemed...soft, but in a good way, not a weak sort of way, more like gentle and kind. Of course, Leo barely knew the guy, but that was the perception he was getting. Still not wanting to freak Jake out, Leo didn't reeled himself in before he could overdo it with the flirting. As he listened to Jake, Leo decided he was going to just ask: "Does it ever get hard, trying to live up to that?" he asked. "I don't really know what it's like. My parents are talented and good at what they do, but it's not music. They're more about art and storytelling and that sort of thing, still a creative pursuit, but...not the same, you know? So I've never really been able to compare myself to them in that way."

It seemed to Leo like Jake was getting a little more confident as they spoke, especially now that they'd been properly introduced. He was surprised by the other's comment, saying, "Really? Uh...thank you," and then he smiled brightly. "You really think so? I don't think anyone has ever said that to me before. Usually they just think it's strange. Actually usually people don't know, at least not these days since I'm no longer in school and subjected to roll calls where the teacher doesn't know my nickname preference. But Leo's happy mood was all but gone now as his hand shook, immediately feeling glum again, and he hated that because he'd really been enjoying this conversation with Jake. But the man was being so sweet and patient with him, tolerating his sudden mood shift, and it seemed like Leo hadn't scared him off; maybe there was time to salvage this still. Even so, Leo couldn't quite shake it off, and he just looked down at the floor, nodding. "Yeah, okay," he said quietly. As Jake walked away, Leo ran his fingers through his hair. Good job, Leonidas, he thought bitterly, shaking his head.

A bit later, Leo was standing behind the counter when he noticed that Jake was still looking around, and he smiled because it seemed he had't scared him off even when he'd given him an out. Leo didn't even know why he cared because he was used to being by himself mostly, and usually that was how he liked it. But he'd felt an immediate spark with Jake, and fuck, it had been nice to feel that again. Maybe it would just be a friendship, maybe it would be nothing, but Leo wanted to see where this interaction would go. So he took a deep breath, hurrying over to where Jake was. "Hey man," Leo greeted him, words coming out in a bit of a rush, as if he were worried that Jake would run off. "I'm sorry about before. The whole...thing with my hand is sort of a touchy subject with me. It...well, it basically ruined my life." He didn't feel like sugarcoating it right now (and rarely did). As he looked at Jake, Leo felt like he wanted to tell him what happened, at least some of it, but as he glanced around the store, Leo decided this wasn't the place. "Do you maybe want to hang out?" he asked Jake before he could second-guess himself. "I just...you seem like a cool guy, plus you're incredibly cute, so I kind of want a second chance to prove I'm not some glum loser. Well...not just glum loser at least." This probably wasn't going well, but Leo didn't know how to turn in the charm; he either was being charming or he wasn't. "What do you say?" he asked, a note of hope to his voice. "I thought maybe you might want to come to my place and bring your guitar, and we could play a little," Leo suggested. "Or we could do it somewhere with more people if you want to, like the park or something."

"she doesn't live in the commune, we don't," he answers, correcting himself to specify the fact that he still lives with his family, only to feel embarrassed over doing so immediately - but he doesn't dwell on the embarrassment for long. "but she spends a lot of time with them, down there, and i did too, growing up. i still go down there with her sometimes, especially when they have events or work to do that could do with some extra people on the team," jake smiles; he doesn't take offence over the question, nor does he suspect judgement behind it. he's well aware of the judgement that they face, having even faced it himself due to his mother, or due to his friendships with those in the commune, but the word 'commune' isn't a dirty one to jake. he laughs at the description of leo's own personal experience in an 'opposites attract' kind of relationship, finding it endearing that leo considers a harpist and a pianist to be so different. "yeah, i've been told that opposites do attract," he doesn't have any experience himself, however, so he can't properly comment on it in a personal manner.

jake keeps smiling when leo talks about learning the acoustic guitar himself. it's nice to speak to someone so likeminded, someone so receptive, someone who he finds himself connecting with so easily and quickly. it's a rare feeling; even though jake has people in his life who love him dearly, jake feels lonely so easily, just as he feels lost and misunderstood so easily, too. he doesn't feel this way with leo. "that is awesome," he agrees, nodding, his bashful nature not helping him out very much as he feels almost at a loss of words due to leo's charm. the beginning of the interaction and the rocky start is already completely lost on jake. "oh, thank you," there's a lot of surprise in jake's tone, but the smile and the blush on his face allude to the compliment being very welcomed, and received well. "not really..." he answers the question even more bashfully than he was moments before, a sweet, nervous, and quiet laugh following his words. "yeah," it's extremely impressive that leo is similarly gifted. "she's really talented, yeah. i'm a bit of a mama's boy, but really, she is super talented- and not even just musically," jake does have moments of feeling inadequate, particularly in her very grand shadow, but thankfully sunny bryant is also a talented mother, helping jake to not feel those nasty feelings frequently.

"leonidas is a beautiful name," he compliments them, feeling more nervous than he should have as he does. once again, the nervousness comes down to jake's lack of experience with flirting - not that jake is even properly committed to the idea of flirting; he doesn't know what he's doing, he only knows that he wishes to compliment leo. "my mom actually uses jacob more than anyone else does. she might be the only person left who does pull the full name out sometimes, though she also calls me jake and other stuff a lot, too," he smiles at another similarity, of their mothers using the full name they gave to their children. jake notices the shaking of leo's hand, and his stomach immediately drops. he doesn't know why leo's hand shakes like it does, but the comment suggesting the shakes being a recent addition makes jake wonder whether or not the other was attacked, perhaps. either way, because of the killers jake knows what it's like to have life uprooted and deeply changed forever; thankfully they've not hurt him before, but his siblings experiences have been traumatizing enough to do real damage to jake. he's always been a deeply emotional person, and his experiences over the past couple of years have him even more sympathetic and empathetic over leo's mysterious change. "you don't have to apologize to me for anything," he tells leo, his voice soft but his words coming out confidently, proving that he really believes in them. he doesn't know what else to say, but he does know that he wishes for leo's mood to shift back into a much more positive direction. "i think i'll browse for a little longer, if that's okay with you," he suggests gently, not wanting leo to think that he's been scared off, while also not wanting to demand to stay in this space, in case leo wishes to be alone.

[hellas-himself]

ZevWarden Week 2022 Day 7: Seasons

Ahh and here we are at the end. @zevraholics thank you again for hosting this. I've enjoyed writing for it as much as I've enjoyed reading everyone's work and seeing their beautiful art. This one's very short but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Fall 

Zevran was not fond of the cold. But there was something to be said about the way Leliel walked around with no cloak, basking in the cool autumn breeze. She enjoyed the crunch of leaves beneath her boots, and bringing Zevran what she considered ‘the prettiest’ leaf she could find. The most recent leaf was almost red in color. 

Did he keep them all pressed in a leather bound journal? 

That was no one else’s business but his own. 

He watched her dance around a fire, joining her until she kissed him. She tasted of brown sugar and cinnamon, of the spiced drink she had asked him to try. They carved a pumpkin together, Zevran unable to keep from laughing at Leliel’s disgust at removing the insides. She fell in love with a black cat and wanted so badly to keep it, but began to sneeze. Eyes red and itching, she had to let it go. 

Winter

He hated the cold. He hated being stuck indoors because of snow, of slipping on ice and touching cold floors when he woke up in the morning. But Leliel loved the cold. Loved being stuck inside as long as it was with him, under the covers or by the fire. She tried skating over ice but fell so much it put her in a foul mood.

The first snow of the season brought her joy and he found he loved the way her eyes sparkled as the snowflakes fell. He didn’t mind the cold if he was outside with her. He remembered it was Alistair that had shown her what a snowball was and since then, she never failed to start a snowball fight with him and their friends. He loved the way her nose and cheeks were flushed under all the layers she wore.  

And when the longest night of the year came upon them, he stayed up all night with her, waiting for the sun. It was something to marvel at, how much she delighted in something that happened everyday. He couldn’t fathom watching the world change from a window high in a tower. So he watched the rising of the sun utterly captivated by her and her smile, at the excitement she felt. 

Spring

Spring in Ferelden was still too cold for Zevran’s liking. But it was sunnier for longer in the day. They could do away with the layers of clothes and spend more time outdoors. That was, if the rains let up. But even that his warden loved. Back during the days they traveled across Ferelden to stop the Blight, she would dance in the rain or just stand there, looking up to the sky. Even that had been denied to her, the simple misfortune of getting caught in the rain and in that, he could not fault her. 

She loved to pick flowers and worry pretty rocks in her hand. Leliel loved waking up to birdsong each morning and breathing in the crisp, clean air.  Leliana had taught her how to weave crowns of flowers and rings made of grass. They were fragile and fleeting, but so precious to him he wore them with the same pride he wore gold and gems. 

Zevran had been nervous to give her flowers at first. Was it too much? Would she reject him, too? There hadn’t even been pretty roses to give her, either. So when Wynne had asked him to fetch her some blood lotus, Zevran decided to keep one for himself. It wasn’t the prettiest flower, but it was a flower still. He couldn’t even remember what words he’d mumbled to her before presenting the blood lotus to her. But she’d smiled, blushing so prettily before accepting it, admiring it as if she were holding rubies in her hands. Leliel had thanked him and became so shy, even going as far as kissing him on the cheek. 

And years later, Zevran did his best to find a different flower for her. Surprising her when he could, just to see her smile. The first time she had given him flowers, Zevran hadn’t known what to do with himself. He understood then, her reaction to the blood lotus. How sweet and thoughtful the gesture was. 

Summer 

Verano! Zevran’s favorite time of year. Though Ferelden’s summer was lacking, and was cold in some places, he found it more agreeable than the rest of the year. The first summer they spent in Antiva, Zevran had told Leliel of all the things they’d do together, the food they would eat. The music and dance. 

And yet… 

Where others became saddened in the darkness and cold of winter, it was the complete opposite for Leliel. He had no words to express what it meant for her to want to join him, because he loved summer and she wanted to love it, too. And she did enjoy their outings, the festivals and lighter clothing. She enjoyed walking through the markets or bathing in a river. But he noticed how the long days and heat wore her out, left her melancholy and at times irritable. 

But the first time he brought her to the beach, it was like magic. She had never seen the ocean like this, the clear water and near white sand. She had never picked seashells before or bathed in the sun utterly bare save for the gold rings and bracelets that adorned her. He loved the way her skin deepened in color in mere hours under the sun. He loved how freely she laughed and how playful she became. 

Sandcastles and being buried in the sand, swimming in the water and laughing when the waves sent them crashing onto shore. Things he had not done since he was a child, but had never enjoyed as much as he did then with her. 

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Eighteen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: a short update while i try to find my writing rhythm again :))

***

Nesta hasn’t danced in over ten years—yet her body still remembers how to move fluidly and create shapes as if she never stopped. Pole dancing is different, of course: most of it takes place in the air, and she doesn’t have the right muscles developed to support her weight that well. Damn, she should really ask Cassian for help if she wants to keep doing this.

Still, Emerie and Gwyn are gaping by the time Nesta lands on the floor after trying out a basic spin.

She cracks her neck. “What?” she says at their stares.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Emerie demands.

She shrugs indifferently. “Eight years of ballet. Push-up challenges with Cassian.”

The instructor, an overly energetic Australian woman, comes up just then and claps Nesta on the shoulder, making her jump. “That was beautiful,” she praises. “Really, you have the balance of a cat. What’s your name again?”

Nesta introduces herself obediently, and Gwyn and Emerie follow.

The instructor nods. “In that case, Nesta, you keep doing what you’re doing. Don’t worry about your upper body strength yet, it’ll come around with time. You, the redhead,” she addresses Gwyn.

Gwyn straightens.

“I’ve never seen someone with your height and grace at the same time,” the instructor says. Gwyn beams with pride. “Unfortunately,” she continues, “I’ve also never seen someone so prone to hurting themselves on the pole.” Gwyn hangs her head.

“And the pretty girl.” She turns to Emerie last, who looks like she already knows what she’s about to hear. “Well, we can’t all be naturals.” The instructor grins broadly. “Feel free to keep using the poles after class is over.” She nods to their group and moves on to some other students.

Emerie sticks her tongue out and groans. “My tights keep giving me wedgies on the pole.”

“This was your idea,” Nesta reminds her as she reaches for her water bottle.

“Yet you’re the only one reaping the benefits,” Gwyn grumbles. “You never told us you had the body of a dancer and the balance of a gazelle.”

“Cat,” Emerie corrects.

“Guys,” Nesta says firmly. “This class is important for all of us. We won’t look this good,” she gestures to all their bodies, “forever. Gwyn is already pushing thirty.”

Gwyn’s jaw drops. “I’m turning twenty-seven, not getting menopause.”

“Same thing,” Emerie mutters. Gwyn shoves her hard and goes to pack her gym bag, leaving Emerie dramatically rubbing her shoulder. Nesta follows after Gwyn while the rest of the class begins gathering their things, too.

“How’re you feeling?” she mutters lowly as Gwyn packs. They haven’t brought up the conversation in Gwyn’s car since it took place, but Gwyn seems returned to her usual self now, if not even sunnier.

Gwyn’s lips twitch up as she glances sidelong at Nesta. “Perfect,” she says smoothly. “I can’t even remember what I was so upset about.”

Nesta is glad, even though she knows the nightmare isn’t gone. Knows that anytime from the next hour to the next year, it could reappear in full force and drag Gwyn down again. But hopefully it won’t hit as hard as it did before, now that Gwyn has her.

After class, they all pile up in Emerie’s car, a handed-down hunk of metal which Emerie insists on calling “vintage”. Gwyn sticks her head between the driver and passenger seat from the back and wrinkles her nose. “Get me home quick, it smells like a dead banana back here.”

“Oh, is that where I left it?” Emerie starts to turn around, but Nesta stops her with a hand on her shoulder. “I need a shower and a nap,” she pleads. “Let’s go.”

Emerie begrudgingly assents, sticking the key in the ignition and turning it. Nothing happens.

Frowning, she turns it again, but the engine doesn’t so much as choke. She slaps the dashboard like it’ll bring her car to life.

“Amazing,” Nesta mutters.

***

Cassian has imagined more times than he’d like to admit what it would be like when Nesta finally introduced him to her friends, but he never imagined this.

Three tired and hungry girls sit in his truck, alternating between arguing and laughing with each other. He can’t keep up with all of their personalities at once, so he just hones in on Nesta while he drives. Nesta, who Cassian has never seen so carefree or witty with people other than himself before. It both fascinates him and freaks him out, the realization that there’s so much to Nesta he doesn’t know yet. It gives him all the more excuse to spend the next several years getting to know her.

“Don’t tell me what to do with my car,” the dark-haired girl, Emerie, is snapping from the backseat. “Mr. Madani,” she abruptly says, sticking her head forward to look him in the face. Cassian nearly jumps. “Do you know how to change a car battery?”

Nesta shoves Emerie’s face back through the gap between seats from where she sits in the front. “You don’t need a battery change, you need a lifestyle change,” she says. “And don’t call my boyfriend by his last name, he’s not a middle-aged dad.”

Cassian bites back a laugh at that.

“Oh, but if I’m twenty-seven, I’m on the brink of menopause,” Gwyneth speaks up.

“Really?” Cassian says, meeting her eyes in the rearview mirror for the first time all drive. “You’re the same age as me?”

He remembers what Nesta told him about Gwyn’s discomfort around men, so he tries to keep his tone casual, distant. If he scares Nesta’s friend away, he’ll never forgive himself.

Gwyn looks stunned to be directly addressed by him, seeming to lose all her sass. “Uh...my birthday’s in a few days,” she says, suddenly awkward.

“That’s right,” Emerie interjects eagerly. “We’re having a rager.”

“We’re having a sleepover,” Nesta corrects. She throws Cassian an exasperated look. “Drive faster, will you? I can’t share a car with these girls any longer.”

“Don’t be fucking rude.” Gwyn flicks a hair tie at Nesta, making her cry out.

Cassian does not understand this dynamic at all, so he shuts up and does as he’s told.

After Gwyn and Emerie have been safely dropped off, Cassian throws his keys into the bowl at the cabin entrance and tosses off his shoes. “I think I finally know what it’s like to be you,” he tells Nesta as they meet the warmth of the house.

“What do you mean?” She unzips her windbreaker, revealing the form-fitting athleticwear beneath. God, he hasn’t even gotten a chance to look at her since he picked her up.

He redirects his eyes to her face. “You know,” he says. “On the outside looking in. I feel drained.”

Her lips quirk up as she hangs up her jacket. “That scared of a couple of girls, huh?”

“They’re your friends. I don’t know what else I expected.” He follows Nesta deeper into the living room, kicking at the ground. “So…” he trails casually. “How was class?”

Nesta responds by rolling her eyes. “I was wondering how long you’d take to crack.”

“What do you mean?” he says, indignant.

“I mean…” She steps up to him and takes his hands, dragging them up her waist to settle on the bare skin beneath her black crop top. “You haven’t said a word about pole-dancing since I told you I was starting it. One would almost think it didn’t affect you at all, and yet,” she tilts her head, “I get the feeling you haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Especially at night, when you’re alone.”

Cassian’s breath goes thin. She knows him too well.

“Cunning witch,” he breathes. Nesta’s smile is slow and winning, which he takes as invitation to slip his hands around her back and pull her in. Her chest is pressed flush against his.

She stares at his mouth, the place she always stares when her mind is five steps ahead of reality. Like she’s already imagining how he’ll take her. “Dreaming about a private performance, are you?”

“Hopefully not right now,” a low voice says from above them.

Nesta jumps, spinning around in Cassian’s arms, but Cassian just closes his eyes and sighs. He opens them to find Azriel sitting in the reading nook that overlooks the living room, various work reports scattered about him.

“Have you been there this whole time?” Nesta demands.

“Unfortunately,” Azriel says at the same time Cassian grumbles, “Of course he has.” Remaining unnoticed is all his brother is good for.

Nesta sighs and rubs her eyes, the mood effectively killed. “I need a break.”

Cassian considers going up to Az and pushing him over the second floor railing as Nesta wiggles out of his arms and heads for the stairs. “And a back massage,” she calls over her shoulder.

“I’ll be right there,” Cassian tells her. But he waits to hear their bedroom door click shut before he also goes upstairs, not towards Nesta but to the reading nook.

“Hey, bro?” He tries to sound lighthearted as he approaches Az. “Do you mind not cockblocking me in my own house?”

Az doesn’t look up from the report he’s reading, flipping a page. “It’s rude to be horny in public spaces.”

“My house is not a public space,” Cassian growls, struggling to keep his temper. “Before you moved in, it was a very, very private space.” For him and Nesta alone, he doesn’t add.

Azriel finally looks up, question in his eyes. “So what?” he says. “You want me to leave?”

Never, is the automatic assurance that nearly comes out of Cassian’s mouth. Of course he’d never want his brother gone, especially when he’s clearly going through… something. But he bites down on the word and takes a seat in the chair across from Az. “I want to know how long you’re planning on staying. For real. You can run from your problems as much as you want, but that doesn’t mean I can provide you with a hiding place forever.”

“Wow.” Azriel’s eyes widen in mock-disbelief and he clasps a hand to his chest. “So cold, brother. I think you caught some of your girlfriend’s iciness.”

Cassian narrows his eyes seriously at Az. “Or maybe I’m being the only adult here.” Cassian now has responsibilities to a person who isn’t part of his traditional inner circle. A person he can see himself making long-term plans with, a person he plans on keeping around. It changes the course of his future in a way that the rest of his family probably haven’t realized yet.

Though maybe Azriel does realize it, because he looks away and murmurs, “No need to rub it in.”

For the thousandth time that month, Cassian wonders what caused Azriel to run away from Velaris. It’s a secret Az refuses to share with even him.

“I’m trying,” Azriel says. His words are slow, unsure. “I’m trying to create space between me and that city, but I’m going to need more time. I can’t tell you how long it’ll take until I can go back. But if you can’t keep me here, I’ll find someplace else to stay.” He shrugs. “It’s not that hard.”

Cassian exhales, feeling sympathy twist deep in his chest for his best friend—and he doesn’t even know what the sympathy is for. “Then take your time,” he says sincerely. “Stay here forever if you want. We can Photoshop you into all our pictures. But don’t think I’m gonna make it easy on you,” he warns.

“You already don’t make it easy on me,” Az mutters. “I can hear you and Nesta fucking all the time.”

“First, don’t ever talk about Nesta and fucking in the same sentence ever again.”

Az blinks in surprise, likely remembering the way they would talk about their hookups before Nesta came into the picture. “Damn, she’s got you bad.”

“Second,” Cassian continues, “I will not hesitate to make you sleep outside if you get on my or Nesta’s nerves.”

“With that attitude, I’ll be out of here by next week,” Az snorts. He crosses his feet and picks up his report again, clearly done with this conversation.

Seeing no hope in rubbing the point in further, Cassian leaves Azriel to his work.

***

Nesta is stripped down to her underwear and getting ready to shower when she notices a missed call from Elain on her phone.

She hesitates at her sister’s name on the screen, wondering what could possibly have encouraged Elain to call while Nesta was at dance class. What happened to the times that Nesta could go weeks without a single person checking up on her?

Looking toward the bedroom door as if Cassian will come in and save her from having to call Elain back, she waits a solid minute before giving up.

Elain picks up on the first ring. “I’m surprised you called back,” she greets.

“I’m full of surprises these days.” Nesta settles onto the bed. “What did you want?” She doubts Elain called just for a check-in, not with the stagnant bitterness that’s been between them lately.

“To have a normal conversation with my sister for once.”

Nesta tries not to roll her eyes all the way back into her head, even though no one is around to see her. “Go on and have it then.”

“I heard from Rhys that Azriel moved into Cassian’s place,” Elain says in her honey-sweet voice. “I’ve been meaning to ask how that’s going for you.”

Nesta’s brow furrows at that voice, the one that Elain uses whenever she wants to give her best first impression—or wants to pry something out of someone. “It’s going fine,” she says flatly. “Az and I get along great.”

That’s a bit of an exaggeration, but…

“You’re calling him Az now?” Nesta can hear the way Elain tries to tamp down on her curiosity, but she’s never been as good at affecting apathy as Nesta is.

“Yeah,” she answers. “Why? Do you miss him?”

Elain nearly chokes over the line. “Why—why would you say that?”

“I thought you guys were friendly,” Nesta says, leaning back into the pillows. “Doesn’t everyone miss him back in Velaris?”

“Oh.” The relief in Elain’s voice is palpable, piquing Nesta’s curiosity. “Yeah, we miss him.” She clears her throat. “He left without telling anybody.”

Nesta fiddles with the band of her panties. “You don’t know why he left either?”

Elain is silent for several moments. “No.” Her answer is quiet, truthful. “I don’t know.” She adds, “Keep an eye on him, will you? I would do it myself, but I’ve been iced out.”

Nesta finds this very suspicious. She can’t bring herself to be interested enough to keep snooping, however, not as the door creaks open and Cassian enters the room. “Will do,” she promises Elain, and makes a quick goodbye. When she hangs up, Cassian asks, “Who was it?”

“Elain.” Nesta frowns at her phone. She wonders if someone like Cassian would be better at reading between the lines of the strange conversation she just had. Maybe he could put his finger on the mysterious relationship between her sister and his brother. But since there are no creeks nearby for Azriel to be shoved into, and it isn’t any of Nesta’s business either way, she decides to give him and Elain time to sort their own shit out.

“What did she want?”

Nesta refocuses on Cassian, who leans against the door appreciating her half-naked form stretched out before him. Without words, she holds her arms open.

He shoves off the door and approaches her on the bed, letting her envelop him into a hug. It isn’t the warmest or most comforting hug, and her arms are stiff as stone, but he melts into her either way. There’s a weariness in his broad shoulders that spikes concern in her.

When Cassian pulls away, she traps his face in her hands and scans it closely for answers. “What’s wrong with you?” she asks. “You fell asleep early during the last two movies we watched and you’re half-asleep now.”

“What are you talking about?” He throws his signature smile her way, but it lacks alertness. “Do I look like there’s anything wrong with me?”

“You tell me.” Nesta shifts so she can slide her hand over the smooth plane of his back, resting her palm on the warm spot between his shoulder blades. It’s her best imitation of a soothing gesture, and it makes Cassian’s lips quirk up lightly.

He hangs his head and sighs. “Is it possible to have growing pains at my age?”

Nesta is confused. “Like, physically?”

“No,” he says. “Just… growing up.”

“I don’t think we ever stop growing up,” she answers honestly. Maybe she’s biased because a part of her is still trapped in that childlike state, and she has more growing to do than most people. “I think it hurts a little every time we have to shift and become someone older. What’s hurting you now?”

Her hand slides up to the nape of Cassian’s neck, gently massaging the muscles there. His head droops even more under her touch. “I can’t believe you’re asking me that when I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” he huffs. But he doesn’t look very inclined to argue.

Nesta squeezes the back of his neck. “I can be the stable one, too, you know. I can take care of you.” She should’ve defeated this misconception sooner.

“That’s not what I meant,” Cassian says, shaking his head. “I meant that I promised you a massage.”

Oh. She nearly forgot about that. “If you tell me what growing pains you’re having, I’ll let you join me in the shower,” she promises. “You can do whatever you want there.”

He looks up at that, dragging his gaze over her mostly-bare figure, and Nesta knows she’s won. “Tell me,” she demands one final time.

Cassian inspects her face, likely deciding how much he should reveal or not. “I’ve been thinking about the future,” he finally says. “It was never something I cared much about before, but now it keeps me up at night.”

Nesta is slow to realize—he’s talking about their future. “You really never thought about the future before?” she asks. At one point in time, Nesta had her life planned out to the age of forty. Her plans hadn’t included this, though.

Cassian shakes his head. “There was nothing for me to think about.”

She runs soothing fingers across his scalp, her heart rate unexpectedly picking up a beat. “And what do you think about now?”

Hazel eyes meet hers with wariness. “Stupid stuff,” he says. “Cars, taxes, insurance.”

At the look on her face, he pulls away from the hand that’s gone still on his neck. “Okay, let’s get you in the shower before I scare you away for good.”

Nesta feels herself being scooped into Cassian’s arms, but she doesn’t quite register it. It’s not until they’re in the bathroom that she remembers words. “I’m not scared,” she says from the cradle of his arms. “I was just surprised.”

Regaining her senses, she squirms until Cassian puts her down on the floor. She straightens. “I’ve never... pondered on the small things like that.”

Except they aren’t really small or stupid, are they? They’re big, inevitable facets of sharing a life with someone. She clears her throat. “The way we live now is already so nice. I guess I forgot things won’t be like this forever.”

Which isn’t the most assuring thing to say from the way Cassian’s face becomes carefully still. But in a blink he’s smiling again, his hands going to unclip her bra. “Don’t worry yourself with that shit,” he chuckles. “I was only dreaming.”

Guilt turns Nesta’s stomach into sludge. She made Cassian share what was weighing on him only for her to brush it off. She wants to talk through it with him until he’s giving her a real smile, but she doesn’t know where to start or what to say. So she lets her bra drop to the floor and steps close to wrap her arms around him.

His breath hitches against her ear, and one of his broad hands comes up to rest on her bare back. “Two hugs in one day?” he says, his amusement covering up some deeper emotion. “I’m either doing something right or doing something very wrong.”

“No. I’m just feeling appreciative.” Her hand returns to that space between his shoulder blades, the spot that seems to disarm him, and pats him there. She gives herself a solid moment to luxuriate in the warmth and size and hard strength of him before saying, “Get undressed, will you?”

One of his hands squeezes her butt. “You need to get off me first.”

She hums in agreement but doesn’t move—hoping he can feel everything she doesn’t know how to tell him.

***

a/n: i bought my eid dress and it’s so pretty yall 🥺

taglist: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes

[theolsentimes]

Mary-Kate Olsen's Singular Style

She came to fame as a twin, but the actress's cultish look is entirely her own. Here, with Lauren Hutton, she pays homage to another fashion inspiration, Grey Gardens. Written by Laura Brown, with photography by Peter Lindbergh (Harper's Bazaar, 2007)

VIEW GALLERY

Mary-Kate Olsen may be the only young actress who breezes into her local Starbucks wearing towering, fashion-fierce Balenciaga boots, who arrives at her latest premiere (in Mary-Kate's case, for the new season of Showtime's Weeds, in which she plays a devout Christian with a pot fetish) sporting an oversize cross, and whose favorite band is Led Zeppelin. She may, in fact, be the only young actress who knows who Led Zeppelin is. MK, as she is known to her friends and family, is also a punctual and professional sort. She arrives for a poolside tea in Los Angeles 10 minutes early, ordering a hot chocolate while explaining her fetish for all things sweet — "I'm a candy girl, like Tootsie Rolls and Swedish Fish" — and objecting when the waiter tries to take the sugar bowl away. She is wearing a nautical striped T-shirt (her mom's, from the '70s), tucked into two black Wolford slips rolled down and turned into a tight, Robert-Palmer-video-style mini, and multicolored sparkly Christian Louboutin stilettos. She's just had her hair colored, returning to a sunnier shade after some experiments with both peroxide ("I woke up one morning and was like, I want white-trash hair today") and the dark side (an auburn-haired near-Goth moment last year). She's carrying a large black fringed leather Prada tote — she doesn't do small bags — and her fingers are covered with rings, most notably two vintage coiled gold snakes stacked on top of each other. ("They remind me of twins, sort of double headed.") Altogether, the effect is less her famed "bag-lady chic" than an edgy, body-conscious, and, yes, sexy silhouette. If she weren't 21, she could be 40. And French.

Few people need reminding that Mary-Kate — with her twin sister, Ashley — literally crawled into celebrity aged nine months (courtesy of Full House) and has not been out of the spotlight ever since. She has been a celebrity for more than two decades. Perhaps that's one reason she seems as if she came out of the womb worldly, the textbook old soul. "Yeah," she says with a small shrug. "I get that a lot." With all of that attention and all of the money (her and Ashley's company, Dualstar, has famously become a "billion-dollar business"), Mary-Kate could easily have ended up the type who wears pink terry cloth and carries a variety of small dogs. "Could you imagine?" she says with the politest version of a snort. "No way." She credits her exceptionally close-knit family (she has five siblings) and, interestingly, early stardom with helping her keep her perspective. "I think it helped that I started in front of the camera, so it didn't come as a shock. If I was a teenager and was thrown into the spotlight, I don't know how I would react, to be honest." Though the tabloids are all too keen to brand her a skinny, nervous deer in the headlights, in person Mary-Kate is easy in her skin, confident and surprisingly tactile, curling up in her seat and touching you on the arm to make a point. She laments the generic style of most actresses and cites only men as style inspirations: "Heath Ledger, Johnny Depp. Men, they just dress the way they want, and they don't think about Who Wore It Best." She doesn't much care for Who Wore It Best, noting she avoids those pages by "wearing vintage so often. I just dress the way I feel instead of looking for what's the new handbag." If Mary-Kate and Ashley have their way, more people will be wearing clothes and carrying bags the way they do. They have just shown the fifth collection of their ready-to-wear line, the Row, and recently launched a contemporary label, Elizabeth and James, named after a sister and a brother. The Row's holiday collection (in stores next month) is a slick mix of skinny leather pants, razor-cut blazers, butter-soft, slouchy tees, and a destined-to-be-cultish pullover fur. Lauren Hutton, who stars in the Row's Spring '08 look book, says, "The clothes are extraordinary. A man I was with just loved them. The pieces are just so genius, soft like a baby's skin. Simple minimalist stuff, but really spectacular." Mary-Kate, designer, faces an interesting challenge. She has to marry Dualstar — which has made its fortune selling tween-tastic DVDs and pastel Mary-Kate and Ashley T-shirts at Wal-Mart — with her increasingly edgy and subversive taste. Dualstar executives, some of whom have worked with her since she was a child, often nag her, mom-style, about pulling her hair back "or wearing a color," she says with a laugh. "I had this event recently, and I was like, They're going to be so happy that I'm wearing ... purple. I actually have to think about those things, though, you know, so I don't get trashed." Get trashed sometimes she does. Hutton says, "Once in a while, she'll wear something and I'll think, Oh, baby doll, take another look. But to have the bravery, to take the chance to do that, is pretty wonderful. She is making her own way, which is hardly ever done in Hollywood." Of Mary-Kate's penchant for gigantic Balenciaga heels, Jenji Kohan, the creator of Weeds, says, laughing, "I'd be like, 'It's Tuesday. Do you really want to be wearing those shoes?' But she pulls it off." Designer Giambattista Valli, a friend, says, "She likes to take risks, but because she has such strong personal style, she always manages to make it work. Even if she had nothing on, she'd have style." And MK chic is spreading. "Sometimes I'll look at people or at a magazine and I'll do a double take because I'm like, Oh, my God, that's my outfit, but that's not me," Mary-Kate says. Playing with her wire-rimmed aviators, she jokes wryly that she should have bought shares in Ray-Ban. (She and Chloë Sevigny pretty much brought back white '80s Wayfarers.) She tends to fall in love with a look, then wear it until she's done. "If I put together a good outfit, I'll wear it for three days and then switch it up with a blazer," she says. "I still love my vintage jeans, my tights, and my pants, though." She didn't start wearing heels, in fact, until a couple of years ago: "I kept watching Ashley walk around in them so gracefully, and I'm such a klutz. But I ended up loving heels, and I don't usually take them off." She wears precisely one pair of flat shoes: Chanel's knee-high patent-leather gladiator sandals. This season, it's Balenciaga's fall collection — all of it — that has Mary-Kate obsessed. She is close to designer Nicolas Ghesquière and says, "He is so talented, but he's the nicest, most down-to-earth guy, and that makes everything he does more brilliant. I bought everything, but I haven't got anything yet," she says like a girl impatiently waiting for Christmas. Will she wear the new pieces with her infamous clodhopper boots? "Uh-huh. Wore them the other day, actually." Mary-Kate always goes with her gut, even if some people (back to those tabloids) don't quite get it. "The tabloids say things about me? What do they say?" she asks archly. "People are going to write what they want, and everyone's going to have their own idea of who I am. But I'm not trying to be friends with the people who are reading them, really." After a rough couple of years filled with near-forensic scrutiny of her weight, she'll have you know that she does eat. "This is not going to sound good," she laughs, "but I like making crispy tofu sticks with peanut sauce. I love my sashimi and my salmon and my vegetables." She observes, "Stress plays a big role in how I look day-to-day. I've always been very active — Pilates, yoga. I grew up horseback riding every day for hours. I love dancing. I usually last longer than anyone on the dance floor." A common image of Mary-Kate has her emerging from a coffee joint with an oversize cup. "I always get creamed for having my Starbucks cup," she says, sighing. "But the only time people get photos of me is when I'm getting coffee, when I can't sneak away from the camera." She also resents the pictorial implication that she and Ashley are dilettantes. "They take photos of us going into our offices, and it's 'Mary-Kate and Ashley shopping again.' But I'm going to work for eight hours, and we're working so hard. ..." She trails off. "It just shows how people want to think of you." Mary-Kate is not above celeb watching herself, however. Newly obsessed with Victoria Beckham, she notes she avidly watched Beckham's Coming to America documentary: "She's running around in a bikini and heels, and I'm like, Oh, my God! I do that, too!" How positively Grey Gardens. "I run around my house naked with heels all the time. It's so funny. All my friends will tell you I love running around in kimonos and jewelry or naked with jewelry." More people will be watching Mary-Kate soon, thanks to her role in the Emmy-nominated Weeds. "I am a very good Christian girl," she says with a wink. "She has her moral beliefs — and she happens to smoke pot." Of her newest cast member, Kohan adds, "Mary-Kate is complicated. She's a big celebrity, a huge media icon, but you have to separate the media images from someone who has the same issues, the same desires, as anyone else." Of course, Mary-Kate's image, in all its incarnations — from high fashion to small screen — is her strongest asset. And she has yet to settle on one. "I feel like I've lived 10 different lives already and I'm only 21," she says, almost as a reminder to herself. "But I also feel like I'm entering a new chapter." One thing on which she is clear, though: She doesn't need to be looked at all the time. What would she do for a day if she were invisible? "I would probably go to a restaurant with my friends, who would be able to see me, of course," she adds pragmatically, "and I would sit outside and enjoy a nice lunch with them. Then I would walk down the street." The old soul takes a sip of her little-girl-sweet hot chocolate. "That's what I would do."

[ballodellamarlena]

m o o n l i g h t

damiano david x reader + ex!gjon muharremaj (gjon’s tears)

genre: fluff, minimal angst

wc: 1.7k

notes: non-canonical OOC, also my first fic in a long time, this is a result of me ignoring my finals with a dash of projecting

feedback is appreciated! if you are interested in reading more i have more ideas :)

-

2021 just can't stop surprising.

In hindsight, it was worse for some in comparison to year prior, but life goes on.

And so does Europe's most famous song competition.

2021 just can't stop surprising. In hindsight, it was worse for some in comparison to the year prior, but life goes on. And so does Europe's most famous song competition.

2020's cancellation of Eurosong was devastating, to say the least, but now it's back and in full shine; different singers, different songs, lots of changes made. Your job as an audio technician swept you off to places you'd never thought you'd see. From concerts to musical artists in recording studios in their whole essence; the making of a song, the process fascinated you. It kind of didn't surprise you when you were accepted to be a part of Eurovision's sound squad. It was, after all, everything you've been working for.

It was not soon after Tel Aviv when you met Gjon in a recording studio, where you were temporarily stationed before departure to Rotterdam to start preparing for the next year. Gjon was a nice constant to your hectic life, always there to shine on a new perspective and always there to comfort you on your worst days. In turn, you were there during his journey to be chosen as Switzerland's contestant in 2020's Eurovision. You were there when he wrote his song about being and belonging. Your blossoming relationship became too great to ignore, and soon you became the team's sweethearts; his firm but soft composure meshing with your assertive and curious nature in the best of ways. You were not afraid to say that you knew him, and vice versa. Everything really was perfect. Until the epidemic hit.

It was like a domino effect, one thing encouraging everything else to fall apart. Being in a foreign country while it was in a state of emergency was not the most ideal, and it didn't really help your job. Your recently appointed position in Eurovision's sound squad was gone with the wind when the cancellation was announced, and so did Gjon's hard work. Tensions rose, and while your relationship was as healthy as could be, it simply wasn't enough. Or maybe it was never supposed to be something more than a prolonged period of deep infatuation between two human beings.

The departure was bittersweet, to say the least. But you knew, a year with him would never compare to anything else. You two parted gently, on a windy airport, almost ignorant to the tears in Gjon's eyes; you saw regret, pain, and fear, but you both understood that if you decided to give your all to each other before knowing what that 'all' even is, it would hurt much more.

You remember his arms around for the last time, whispering promises of sunnier days and warm reunions, the lump in his throat preventing him from promising you a better him.

You haven't been able to completely process his intentions, too keen on leaving. You were itching for something different, but everything seemed too claustrophobic in this state of the world. So you accepted the first job offer that presented itself to you and flew off to Sanremo.

-

"You okay?"

You turned abruptly towards Victoria, one of the band members you were here with here in Rotterdam in the middle of rehearsals and navigating through Rotterdam.

Your job offer as one of Eurovision's sound technicians still stood even throughout the epidemic but after Måneskin's success at the Sanremo Festival that granted them the first row in the finals of Eurovision you decided to stay with them, so the job kind of integrated being an official technician in charge of Italy and being their personal plus one.

You stared at Victoria with a blank stare, reminiscing the past short few months; Sanremo brought new experiences and new people. Italy's contest for the contestant at 2021's Eurovision started from square one, giving new chances.

Maybe Måneskin was just what you needed, the four of them. Victoria, Thomas, Ethan, and Damiano.

Damiano was a breath of fresh air. A breeze of fast wind. Assertive and confident. You couldn't deny it was attractive. You tried not to let his aura control your way of seeing him, but very soon you found him to be one of the best people you've ever met. You helped you express yourself more, welcomed you like family, made you see life and yourself like something more than you had originally thought. You two clicked, and between new friendships and an interesting job position you allowed them to take you with them to Rotterdam. And you did so without hesitating.

Besides, no one could deny something heavy between you and Damiano.

Back to the present, at Italy's table with the band and the delegation, Damiano comfortably sitting on your left, you stared at Victoria to your right, trying to come up with an answer when you heard it again.

"Will Switzerland's contestant please begin their rehearsal?"

And there he was, no different than that day at the airport. Last you heard about Gjon he came with a new song, after managing to keep his place as the contestant, something many preparing contestants had to give up prior to this year's competition.

You were sitting on the edge of your seat, elbows on your knees. You felt Damiano's fingers twirling one of your locks on the back of your hair, a bit uninterested to be watching somebody else's rehearsal while the band was already done with theirs.

"Yeah." you smiled lightly. There was no lie, why wouldn't you feel fine?

You felt Damiano's hand weaving with your elbow, pulling you to him, and you leaned back against the cushion, leaning your head gently against his shoulder. And if he noticed you seemed lethargic all of a sudden, he didn't say anything.

You stared intensely towards the stage, but relaxed and turned to the rest of your company after realizing this rehearsal only included the technical side of things. No song from him today.

-

22nd of May, 2021

Entirely skipping the semi-finals, you and your team only focused on your own band. Being one of the Big 5 was admirable, and everyone expected a show.

The clothes fit, the makeup was on, and the band was ready to enter the arena along with you and Italy's delegation. Nine pm was nearing and you were going to be sitting through all of the 26 songs, along with voting.

Songs went by fast, some fun, some less, but all were good until it was time for Switzerland. You were about to hear his new song.

Je vois derrière nous des morceaux de toi Et ce que la douleur a fait de moi

The somber tone, the lyrics. Your limited knowledge of french allowed you to understand the basic point of the song.

Nos deux cœurs sous la terre

He was still not over you.

But maybe he was but was singing about somebody else, you tried to rationalize.

Damiano squeezed your hand that you didn't even realize he was holding, you were so tense. The band was aware of your previous association with the Swiss singer, but you didn't even want to know what they were thinking about.

You only thought about the song. The melody, the words sang of his anguish, and it wasn't a bad song. You wanted so desperately to heal him but knew it was not your job to do anymore.

Comment soigner nos coeurs qui éclatent?

Your eyes made contact, and it was like going back in time. But all songs end, and so did yours.

The crowd cheered, it was a great performance. The table clapped and you watched him getting off the stage, not knowing what to think.

"It's going to be okay, carina."

That one pull you needed, and you didn't doubt anymore.

An hour and a half later, after Italy's performance, which was quite an experience, finals were coming to an end, and the voting began.

You will never get used to feeling nervous about getting results, even when you weren't the object of it. But watching Switzerland get so many points from the jury made it a whole new experience. Italy was places below and everyone was silent.

The televoting points change everything, it was unpredictable, just like the whole competition. You had Damiano's hand in your left and Ethan's in your right, squeezing them, but adrenaline prevented you to feel anything else besides your heartbeat.

You wanted them to win so bad. They worked so hard to get where they are today, and while all contestants deserved a chance, you couldn't not be a little biased.

The 318 points to Italy were a game-changer, the crowd cheered, Victoria and Thomas jumped and screamed, and Damiano pulled you up into a hug, cheering with them; they were in the first place now. Crowd's favorite, obviously.

All that was left to hear was the number of points for Switzerland.

You've got to be kidding me, you thought.

It was tension between Switzerland and Italy, and you honestly didn't know who would win. But did it really have to be the two of them?

You felt the cameras focusing and your table, And everything was silent. You felt Gjon's stare, piercing through you. But the only thing you could focus on was Damiano's skin touching yours, his fingers intertwining with yours, and you knew that no matter the outcome, everything would be okay.

But alas, the points weren't enough to overthrow Italy, and you grinned, suddenly feeling Victoria's arms around you and Damiano's tears of joy on your neck. Everyone's screams made it seem like total silence and you smiled big, proud of your friends.

You were so happy you didn't realize they were soon dragging you with them to the stage to perform once again. In fact, you never felt so happy, you even started to sing loudly with the crowd.

Damiano, in his whole element, shining with pride and glory, motioned you to the stage by the end, pulled you in, and kissed you deeply, holding you close, and silently thanking you.

You knew life wasn't always going to be this pretty, but you thought, maybe you could live in this moment for a little while longer, kissing your frontman and giving yourself completely to the blinding lights of a victorious arena.

It was time to move on.

-

a/n: this was so bad i'm so sorry

[sevlgi]

my sunday

requested: no

group: blackpink

pairing: jisoo x fem!reader

genre: fluff

contents: school!au, based on loona’s my sunday mv.

warnings: none

synopsis: Jisoo is what makes your Sundays so very special.

a/n: I WROTE SOMETHING. I DID IT!!!!! (please don’t mind the typos in this, i legitimately wrote this in an hour and posted it immediately)

word count: 1.4k

Sundays were the most special day of the week to you.

Well, it wasn’t just you. They were special to all of the students at Gyeongseong Boarding School; there, Sundays were free days, the only day out of the week where students were free to leave the campus or roam it with no restrictions. But to you, Sundays were special for a different reason-- they were a special memory, with an even more special girl. 

Jisoo was one out of your four roommates, but that was nowhere close to how you’d describe her. A friend, maybe, or even a best friend. You weren’t sure how you’d phrase it if you were asked why you looked at her like she was your entire life, why you thought any disease could be cured by just one look at her smile.

But if she asked you, you knew that you’d tell her that she was everything perfect, the only star in your dark sky, yet bright enough to illuminate your entire world. And ever since that handshake on your first day in Gyeongseong, she was your Sunday, the diamond in a sea of worthless coal.

“Y/N? Get up, we’re here.”

Despite never having been asleep, you faked an overexaggerated yawn and tilted further into Jisoo’s neck. She laughed breathily, finger poking right into your forehead. “I know you aren’t asleep, dumbass.”

You sighed and lifted your head at that. Even through your bleary vision, you couldn’t miss the heart shape of her grin, and your cheeks flushed pink despite all the times you’d seen it before. “Fine. Has the bus stopped?”

“No, actually,” Jisoo answered and turned to the front. “My shoulder was just tired.”

Punching her arm lightly, you glanced out the window, at the morning sunlight shining down on the dingy storefronts and faded brick walls of the city. It was the same as always-- after all, you and Jisoo took the same bus at the same time every Sunday, even sat in the exact same seats every time. But as the bus lurched to a stop at the same grimy metal sign as always, and you stood with Jisoo’s hand in yours, the view was just as beautiful as it had been the first Sunday that Jisoo brought you down the hill with her. “Are we going for ice chocolate again?” she asked as you stepped out of the bus, leaning slightly on her so as not to fall on the crooked last step.

“I’ll never say no to ice chocolate,” you answered absentmindedly. The slight January breeze was icy on your face, but Jisoo didn’t seem to mind even in her short skirt. “Rock paper scissors again to determine who pays?”

She considered it but shook her head, grinning, “Race” one second before she turned and bolted for the ice cream shop just down the street.

“H-- cheater!”

You still laughed as you chased her, feet pounding against the ground even while you shouted after her. “Kim Jisoo, just you wait until I get my hands on you!”

“I wish I brought my camera,” the other girl sighed as she looked out to the ocean. It wasn’t much in your opinion, more gray than blue, the waves crashing onto dusty brown sands where the water met the beach. But Jisoo still watched it with appreciating eyes, working away slowly at her iced chocolate. “Would’ve made for a pretty shot.”

“You can always get it next week,” you shrugged in answer. Your own cup was empty, sitting to your left on the slightly sandy stone wall that the two of you were perched on. “I mean, we come here every week.”

Jisoo smiled, “But it’s different every week. It could be sunnier, or maybe rainy; either way, it’s still beautiful.”

“You’re cheesy as hell.” You rolled your eyes, reaching for her iced chocolate but blocked by her free hand. “I’ll still come here every Sunday with you, even if it rains.”

She nodded, biting down on the spoon in her mouth and swinging her legs over the wall. “Remember that time in 2nd year? You insisted on coming even though it snowed, and we had to explain to our roommates why they had to live in other rooms so they wouldn’t catch a cold from us.”

“That was kinda stupid. But at least we got the room to ourselves for a week,” you grinned. “We should do it again, get Chaeng, Lisa, and Jen to annoy room 244 for a change.”

“That’s mean,” Jisoo shook her head. “But I like the way you think.”

“I mean,” you continued, “with all of them in the room, we wouldn’t get to do this.”

“Do what?” she asked, turning despite knowing exactly what you were going to do. And predictably, you kissed her, soft and slow, savoring it while you could. Her lips were cold from the weather and from the dessert, but they were as soft and sweet as ever as they moved against yours. Jisoo’s hand clasped in yours again, intertwined and pressed to the stone of the wall as she leaned in a bit closer.

Before someone could call you out or recognize you, though, you parted, teeth letting go of her bottom lip with a pop. When Jisoo looked down, she found the cup of iced chocolate to be in your hand instead of hers, the spoon already in your mouth as you grinned. “Y/N, that’s a foul,” she complained. But she didn’t try to wrestle for it back, simply watching you with a sigh. 

After a beat of comfortable silence, the quiet murmur of people passing by only ambient noise in the background, Jisoo spoke again. “You know, my brother called yesterday. He wanted to know if I got a boyfriend yet.”

You snorted in laughter and shook your head. “Right, we’re graduating soon. What’d you tell him?”

“I told him that I’ll date when I get into college,” she sighed.

“Hey. Are we not dating?” you pouted, snickering when she tossed a napkin at your head. “I know, I know. Korea’s conservative, your brother’s conservative. We would’ve gotten hit if someone saw us just a bit earlier.”

Jisoo frowned, toying with your fingers in hers. “You’re right. Y/N... If you had to introduce me as something, what would you say?”

“Well, the obvious. You’re my roommate,” you smiled, “and my best friend. But... you’re also my Sunday.”

“Your Sunday? I don’t think I’ve heard that one before.” Jisoo looked up, and you could barely hold yourself from leaning in and kissing her again. The slightly grayish tone of Gyeongseong’s sun did wonders for her features, illuminating the curve of her cheek and the tip of her nose just enough to make her look like a literal angel. “Care to explain?”

You hesitated for a second and tapped the plastic spoon against the plastic of the cup in your hands. “Do you remember the first time you explained the concept of Gyeongseong Sundays to me? You couldn’t explain why you liked coming down to the same beach every weekend with your friends, so you decided to just take me with you.”

“Right,” Jisoo snapped her fingers, nodding. “And when I asked you afterwards what you thought of Gyeongseong Sundays, you told me that they were special. The one red licorice in a bag of black, the rose in a bouquet of thorns. You were poetic then, and even more so now.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” you laughed slightly. “But yeah. Since almost four years ago, we’ve spent every Sunday together, every one of our rare, perfect, special days. So you’re my Sunday. You're the one that makes my day special, and you shine like the tiny stars we watch from the rooftops.”

After taking a quick glance at the empty streets around you, Jisoo’s fingertips ghosted over your jawline again before her lips were on yours and everything faded. You could feel her smile, could taste the sheer contentment in the pressure between the two of you. And when she pulled away, that simple happiness still lit up her eyes, even when she turned to look at the gray-blue sea again. “Okay. Then I’ll be your Sunday. Your Sunday love.”

[braunbakery]

salvation, maybe (i)

☞ reiner braun x reader [fem bodied] [chapter word count: 2.5k]

☞ sfw, angst, fluff, post-season 3 [after 4 year time jump], season 4 spoilers

☞ cross-posted on ao3 (very much ahead on ao3, just wanted to bring it to tumblr)

☞ fic plot: you have walked these streets many times before. you have passed this bench many times before. you have seen this man (lost in his thoughts, always drifting, always looking lost) many times before. but this time, this time you take a seat.

next

i. hero

the wind blows your long skirt against your legs as you make your way down the street, shoes tapping against the cobblestone of the ground. liberio is reasonably busy and you find yourself accidentally knocking shoulders with a multitude of people. the slightly chilly late morning air nips at the skin on your face and you instinctively wrap your jacket a little tighter around yourself, repeating the list of what you need to get in your head.

eventually, you reach the less populated part of the market street. you know that you don't really have any business being here - all of your necessities lie on the busier side of the street (probably all running out at this point, judging by the ever-increasing crowd.) but, you have become so accustomed to making your way to the quiet end of this street to see if he still sits on the bench in front of the broken fountain, slumped over and staring at his knees. sometimes, on sunnier days, his long off-white jacket is crumpled next to him. sometimes he is leaning back, his neck tilted back towards the sky and his arms tightly crossed across his broad chest.

but the constant remains, he is always here.

since he had returned from wherever the previous warrior mission had taken him, every morning he sat at this bench in such an obvious amount of distress that you wondered how come no one else ever said anything. did his comrades never take notice of his seemingly permanently furrowed brow, or his fists that somehow were always clenching and unclenching? or were they all also fighting their own battles, sitting on their own benches and being watched by their own strangers?

his name is reiner braun.

you know this name, everyone knows this name. everyone knows his close-cropped blonde hair, his broad build, his sullen face (you wonder if he only smiles on command). he and his comrades bring honour to liberio and offer an excuse to marley for why you and your neighbours deserve to live. you want to feel grateful and proud, but as you watch him stare mindlessly into the distance, hands absent-mindedly playing at his uniform collar, all you can feel is pity.

sometimes you feel yourself slowly gravitating towards him, your feet moving before your mind even realizes it. today is one of those days when his sorrow is contagious, radiating out of him and into you, and suddenly you really are moving. it has been almost a month since he has been coming to this bench and sitting in silence. it has been almost a month of you idly watching him, wondering if you should say anything. if there's anything you can even say. but, he is a soldier. if you don't act now, he will be whisked away to whatever new conflict marley has conveniently found themselves in. you just want to say something. anything.

and before you know it, you have somehow planted yourself a few inches away from him on the other side of the battered wooden bench. reiner shifts in his seat, but doesn't say a word. your thoughts are racing and you contemplate whether or not it's too late to back out now. whether or not you can sit in silence and pretend your feet were just tired and you needed a rest (despite the fact you have only been outside for all of fifteen minutes.) if you seemed as melancholy as he seems to you, would you want someone to offer you solace? to acknowledge your struggle? you don't know, you don't know, you don't know. and before you know it, words of no real value are tumbling out of your mouth.

"not too bad of a day, huh?" you awkwardly say, eyes flitting towards reiner quickly to see if he will acknowledge the stranger trying to making a conversation about the god damn weather. reiner shifts in his seat, his dazed stare cut short as his body slightly slowly turns towards you. he still doesn't actually look at you. but, to be fair, you still haven't actually looked at him.

"i suppose," he mumbles, looking around the street as another gust blows through liberio, sending papers flying into the air.

"it's a shame the fountain doesn't work. maybe it would've made the day a little better," you comment, your eyes glancing back at the battered fountain behind the bench. it is years old, the white stone now faded into different hues of brown and green, and vines hooking and wrapping their way all around the structure. you suspect that maybe it had never actually worked at all.

"maybe," reiner replies. his head turns towards you, watching you crane your neck behind you to see the fountain. secretly, you don't want to turn your head back and witness him probably ignore your efforts of conversation. can you blame him? he has seen war and has been through hell, from paradis to the endless conflict between the mid-east allies. why would he decide now that a fountain no one actually cares about is what peaks his attention? "but, i think we'd have a bunch of kids jumping in if it did work. so, could be for the best."

realistically, the fountain is too small for anyone bigger than a toddler to attempt to climb in. but, you still find yourself slightly smiling in relief at his response, realising that maybe you weren't completely hopeless and maybe reiner didn't truly want to be completely alone.

"i suppose," you echo his earlier response back to him, no longer craning your neck and returning to face forward with him once more. your smile grows even wider as you notice the corners of his mouth softly curling upwards. much better. your eyes meet his for a moment and you can't look away from the deep hazel, the warm welcome. he is the one to break the stare, eyes glancing off to a passerby.

"you have a thing for fountains then?" he jokes. but, as you stay looking at him, you can see that despite his attempts at some kind of humor, his gaze is still crestfallen and his fists are still clenched at his sides. you don't know what to say.

"no, just for nice days," you retort, offering another toothy smile. like reiner, it doesn't particularly reach your eyes. maybe this is a mistake. maybe you are just bothering him and tiring him out from making him have to put up some moderately pleasant facade. maybe this is just for your own gain. because you are alone. because you are lonely. you grab at the empty woven basket next to you, wondering if you should just leave.

but the truth is the truth, and you are alone and so is he. is it such a crime to maybe want to be alone together?

"are you just out getting groceries?" reiner casually inquires, shoving his balled fists into the pockets of his long jacket. he looks at you again. everytime he has ackowledged you so far, a part of you feels that maybe this is okay. that maybe the small moments where he isn't lost in his own head and instead spares looks at a stranger makes it all okay. in the end, you don't really know him, and he doesn't really know you. but do you need to know someone to want them to feel okay?

"yeah," you say, leaning foward to take a peek at the busier end of the street, "but i think i'm a bit late. everything other than maybe bread is probably gone by now," even though this is going to be an inconvenience, you don't find yourself regretting it. you're happy to sit here next to reiner, even if it means another morning of trying to wake up early and make your way through the masses.

"huh," reiner huffs out a small chuckle, eyeing your empty basket, "you should probably go grab that bread then."

you slowly stand up, slinging the basket at the crook of your arm and turn to face reiner. he looks up at you questioningly. there was no way you had waited almost a month just to have some measly conversation about nice days and a century-old fountain.

"do you want to come?" you ask, trying to feign at least a fraction of the confidence you wish you held in this particular moment, "to the bakery, i mean." obviously he knows what you mean. why would you say that? reiner slightly raises his eyebrows at your invitation, but deep down, you are adamant that this is not the last time you talk to him. you are not going to let him sit on that bench until the next time he's shipped off halfway across the world.

"which do you go to?" he asks after a pause.

"the one by the tailor's," you answer.

"i don't know...technically, i did just meet you. you might be out to kidnap me and force me into building a fountain." you roll your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips.

"i don't think you have anything better to be doing," again, reiner responds with another raised eyebrow, "accept the pretty girl's invitation to buy some bread with her, reiner."

reiner laughs. a real, actual laugh. and you know that you aren't going to regret the sudden burst of confidence when you get home.

"how do you know my name?" reiner asks through his smile, getting up as he dusts off his warrior uniform.

"doesn't everyone, reiner braun, warrior of marley, hero of liberio?"

"hero," he repeats after you, standing a little closer and once more gazing into the distance, "i don't know about that." you both slowly start walking back along the way you had originally come.

"how come?"

"i think heroes are supposed to be good people."

his honesty stuns you, but you try not to let your composure falter as you both make your way down the cobblestone path, maneuvering through the crowd that seems to finally be clearing away as the morning breaks into afternoon.

"well," you pause, trying to think of something that will mean anything to him. that will relax his brow a little, or soften out the stress on his face, "i don't think you're a hero." you can feel reiner freeze for a small minuscule moment, his face turning toward you.

"oh, really?" a small, teasing smirk makes its way across his face. he can't hide the confusion painted on his features. maybe he's not as taken aback or hurt or offended because you really are just a stranger. maybe's it's easier for him to be honest because you really are just a stranger. maybe he is speaking freely, with the knowledge he may never see you again, because you really are just a stranger. and, even though, deep down, a part of you wishes you were something more than a face he would eventually forget, you are grateful for the modicum of anonymity that somehow seems to evaporate an unspoken boundary between you.

"heroes die," you say, bluntly, "maybe i think there's more for you than that." and that was the truth, or as much of it as you could force yourself into saying. reiner stares at you blankly, his teasing demeanor fading away as he stops in his path. maybe you had said something wrong, or reminded him of something he wishes he could forget, but you are glad that in some weird, confusing way, you managed to express that he needed to live.

you had walked on for a few steps before realising he had stopped, and turn back to find reiner still staring at you. people walk between you and around you, but his gaze doesn't falter. his face is unreadable, but eventually, he is cut out of his moment of stillness and crosses the distance between you.

"that's a bit grim, but thanks, i guess?" he laughs, scratching at the back of his neck. you are a couple of steps ahead of him as you both turn the corner, getting closer to the bakery stall. you look back at him, watching as he strides on behind you, arms swaying by his sides and hair being lightly blown by the wind.

"you know," you start, stopping in your path again. reiner follows suit, waiting for you to continue, "that doesn't mean i don't think you're a good person."

reiner looks up at you. he doesn't look back down. you think you can feel yourself sinking into the ground.

"really?" he says, after a pause. you can hear the chatter of the bakery up ahead, the footsteps of more shoppers walking past you, the faint howling of the wind in your ears, the playful cries of children weaving through the hoards of people littered throughout the street. and you look at him. really look at him. you know, for sure, for definite, that you don't want to be just a stranger. you want him to remember your face and your words. you want him to think he deserves something more than desolation. so, you repeat.

"it doesn't mean i don't think you're a good person."

you take a few steps towards him and grab the sleeve of his jacket, gently tugging him towards you as you continue walking towards the bakery. you walk side by side, a little closer now. this time, the silence is comfortable, and when he looks down at you as you ready your basket to collect the bread of your choice, you're already looking up at him and offering a smile. as you grab the money out of your purse, you stare at reiner's hands which hang at his sides.

you don't want to be a stranger. you will see him again.

it doesn't mean i don't think you're a good person.

you hand the money to the vendor, thanking her and steadying your grip on the now filled basket. reiner silently tries to grab it from you, even though it weighs practically nothing, but you move your hand away, eyeing him threateningly.

you have nothing else to buy, but you keep walking. your hands brush accidentally on purpose (more so on purpose on your behalf.) reiner doesn't ask where else you need to go, he just keeps walking with you, and you are grateful. you grab a roll of bread from the basket and break off the end of it, dividing it into two and offering a piece to reiner. he takes it from your hand and offers you a smile. you want to see that smile again.

no, you want to see him smile because of you again.

it doesn't mean i don't think you're a good person.

it just means i want you to live.

[peaceoutofthepieces]

Tracing Time

Disclaimer that I am not a therapist nor bipolar but I have had a therapist so I’m hoping it’s not too awful of a depiction. Also want to add a minor content warning for the ending scene for homophobia, nothing explicit or even verbal, just a woman with an icky vibe.

Wednesday, 16:04

Song: Haux - Youth

Sander tips his head against the back of the couch and stares at the fan in the corner. It drones in slow circles, doing little more than disturbing the air right in front of it. It still makes the air in the room chilly enough that Sander is glad he’s wearing a sweater, though.

Between it and the window is an ‘abstract’ painting of the brain. Abstract in that the supposed organ is actually scattered in pieces throughout the canvas, all in various states of destruction. One has trees growing out of it, for example. Another is on fire; it’s Sander’s favourite.

He’d stared at it with an absurd sort of fascination in his first session, almost two years ago now, and his therapist, Agathe, had simply smiled at him and asked if he liked art. It was a sneaky way in, but he supposed that was the point. These meetings have gotten fewer and farther apart over that time, now that he can supposedly manage himself to a high enough standard on his own. Well, not quite enough, he supposes, or he probably wouldn’t be here at all. He can practically hear Agathe’s rebuke that they are just ‘casual check-ins’, and Sander is free to go whenever he pleases.

At every one of those reminders, Sander debates doing exactly that—getting up and going. Instead, he usually ends up slumping sullenly for a few minutes before Agathe prods her way back in.

They haven’t been mandatory in a long time, these sessions, but now there’s just something...reassuring. There are still times he doesn’t bother making an appointment, but knowing he can, and knowing that someone with the right knowledge doesn’t see any reason to worry about him, leaves a pretty damn good sense of relief.

And he did have a bit of a blip, at the start of the year. A few days in which he had to be prodded and coerced into just taking a drink of water, and had spent the majority of in his room. It had overlapped the holidays, so he’d let Robbe come and cocoon himself with him for a good chunk of the time.

It hadn’t made him better. But it made him...safe, or something similar, and that was the most he could hope for.

It was the coming-out-of-nowhere aspect that had shaken him a bit. He’d felt better, just keeping up his sessions then, being sure that he was at least doing alright with his medication. It’s working okay, the sitting and talking, so he shows up and just lets Agathe keep making sure.

The door cracks open now and she slips back in, dropping into the couch across from Sander and shooting him her usual calm, too-happy smile through light lipstick. It brings out her dimples. She’s not yet marred by wrinkles, but there’s something soft and aging about her face, anyway. Maybe it’s the graying roots. “Sorry about that, I forget this thing way too often.” She holds up the clipboard she’d carried in with an exasperated sigh, murmuring under her breath as she flicks through it and gets settled.

It’s all painfully familiar. It makes Sander smile.

He does like her. He’s never bothered denying that.

“So, how are we today?” It’s the same way she always starts, though it’s usually accompanied by—ah, there we go—clasped hands and another smile.

“Good,” Sander says. It’s automatic, but he also means it. Today is fine. It’s good.

She raises her brow when he doesn’t offer anything else. “Alright, good. Belated birthday wishes are in order, I believe?”

“Yeah, thank you. Just yesterday.”

She nods, and Sander does not think about how that was dumb when she obviously already knows. But she just settles back and crosses her legs. “Did you do anything to celebrate?”

Sander’s lips finally stretch in a smile of his own. He thinks it’s probably a little dopey, a little lovestruck, and she probably knows exactly what he’s going to say before he opens his mouth. “I had breakfast with my parents because Robbe took me out for dinner. Then he had a surprise party planned at our friends’ flat.”

“A party on a school night?” Agathe’s brows raise, and she shakes her head with a small laugh. “How do they deal with that today?”

“No clue,” Sander breathes out a huff of his own, trying not to feel overly amused by how Gilles had been in the class they shared with Sander earlier in the day. For once, they hadn’t said a word, just sat with their head down for the entire lecture, wincing every now and then when Sander laughed. He hadn’t even heard from any of the others, but Robbe had looked dead on his feet this morning, as well. He’d sent Sander a slightly sunnier selfie about half an hour ago, though, so he’s probably fine. “Not very well, I imagine.”

She tilts her head. “You seem well enough.”

“Well, I wasn’t drinking,” Sander shrugs.

At this, her serene little smile returns and her nod seems approving, and even though Sander hadn’t been looking for it, he grudgingly admits that it feels good. “I know that can be a difficult choice, and I’d rarely be able to make it myself,” she laughs again. “It’s great that you feel strong and comfortable enough in that group to do your own thing.”

Sander can’t help a little snort. “Are you kidding? It was one of them that had me drinking mocktails.”

“Really?” Agathe grins.

“Yeah, but then he got kinda drunk, and the last couple he made me were just disgusting because he thought these awful mixtures would be a really good idea.”

She laughs gently. “Well, it seems like it’s not the worst. ‘He’ isn’t Robbe?”

Sander shakes his head. “No, but one of his friends.”

“And what about Robbe, then? How is he?”

“Good.” A soft smile steals over his face. “The best, as always.”

“Treating you well.”

Sander’s smile widens, and he raises his brows without saying anything.

Agathe points at him. “Not what I meant, and not what I need to know.”

“I thought we can talk about whatever I want in here,” Sander says innocently.

“Alright, then,” she acquiesces. “Tell me all about it.”

Sander blanches. He thinks about it, opens his mouth, and then thinks about it some more. Closes his mouth again.

Her smile is downright devious. “That’s what I thought.”

He huffs. “It’s very healthy, just so you know.”

“I am sure.”

“Explorative. Always consenting, of course. Frequent.”

“All very normal and well for teenage boys,” she nods, and it would be completely serious if Sander couldn’t see her eyes twinkling. She pauses. “Although, I can’t call you that anymore. How does it feel to be twenty?”

Sander narrows his eyes. “Nice change of subject.”

“Oh, if you had more to say, please continue. Just a thought that occurred to me, I don’t mean to steer you, you know that.”

He does know that, and it makes him pause, because. How does it feel to be twenty? He realises he hasn’t thought about it. He realises that’s probably a good thing—that he didn’t get stuck on his birthday this year, that it was something he just enjoyed. Maybe it was simply going to sleep next to Robbe that helped, but no anxiety had taken over at the end of the day.

Even after his conversation with Jens. It’s not the most prominent part of the day of Sander’s mind even now. Instead he finds himself tucking his hand into his pocket and grasping Robbe’s key, running his thumb over the already familiar ridges.

He hadn’t even been worrying about his major fuck-up with his assignment. He’s still not.

He’s not really giving himself the chance.

Should he be?

“It feels the same as being nineteen,” he says finally. “I didn’t become a different human in a day, sadly.”

He can see her latching on. “Why do you say it like that?”

“Like what?”

“‘Sadly’?”

“It’s just...a joke.”

“Okay. But why do you think it’s funny?”

It annoys him, because she’s not judgmental. She’s neither amused nor disappointed. Just curious, earnest, all focused and attentive as she gazes calmly, patiently at Sander. Even his attempt at throwing her off, making her awkward, hadn’t shaken her. She remains unfazed, as always. It’s annoying.

“I don’t,” he admits, “I guess. I don’t know what I’d consider it.”

Agathe nods, softening in her understanding, and it makes something twist in his chest. “Are you not happy with the human you are, Sander?”

He gives her a bland look. When she keeps waiting, he shrugs, gesturing at the room.

“I know,” she says gently, “that of course, you feel you would be happier without your illness. But who you are now—what you study, what you’re passionate about, who you surround yourself with, how you live your life day to day. Do you wish all of that was different?”

Sander doesn’t have to think about it quite as much. “No. But I—“

He cuts himself off, hesitating. She raises her brows and nods, prompting him onwards but not pushing. If he really wants to wait her out, she’ll move on.

“I just wish that it was easier,” he says.

She tilts her head. “Easier how?”

“I messed up. At college. I completely missed an assignment because I mixed up the dates with another one.”

She winces in sympathy. “And what happened in that case? Does that mean that assignment is marked as a fail?”

“No,” Sander admits. “He gave me the time I thought I’d have to do it. Marked it down as an extension. It’s due on Friday now.”

“And is it going alright?”

“Yes.”

“You aren’t struggling with it too much?”

“No.”

“Then it seems like a fairly simple mistake. Easy to make and also, thankfully, easy to fix for you. It’s not unusual. But do you see it as an effect or consequence of your illness? Is that why it bothers you?”

Sander is quiet.

She sets her clipboard aside and leans forward, clasping her hands again as she considers him. “You have to remember, Sander, that all humans are not without fault. That regardless of who we are or what we may have to deal with, we will inevitably make mistakes. Not every slip up is a reflection of you, or a sign of failure, of failing health. You’ve actually been doing very well for a long time, now. But this belief, or this worry, that it is taking a hold of you again can sometimes help it take on that direction. Do you know what I mean?”

He takes a moment to absorb the words before nodding, knowing that if he answers too quickly she won’t believe he’s listening. But he does know. He understands. He hates that she’s probably right.

“So in a situation like this,” she continues, “do you not think, that it is more beneficial for you to focus on correcting your mistake and the fact that you have that ability? Not only mentally, but overall. That your professor is so understanding must mean he thinks well of you.”

He shouldn’t ask. He does anyway, quietly. “You don’t think it’s just pity, or something?”

“No,” she huffs. “No, I do not. Did he give you the impression that that was why he was doing it?”

Sander rolls his shoulders, adjusting his position. “No.”

Her smile returns. “I think,” she says slowly, “that this all shows just how well you’re doing. That you can acknowledge your doubts are likely just that—doubts—and that you take responsibility when you mess up and try to rectify it. Do you not think those are all good things? Things just as healthy as your sex life?”

It shocks a laugh out of him, and he sees her eyes crinkle. “Maybe,” he allows. “But it really is very healthy. I don’t know if anything else should be forced to live up to the standard.”

She represses a smile. “I remember there was a time when you would never have even spoken about this in such a kind way.”

She’s right. It still freaks him out, sometimes, the hypersexuality that can be induced by his mania, and it even made him hold back from Robbe after his episode, at the beginning. The last thing he wanted was to freak Robbe out, or disgust him, or make him uncomfortable. Then Robbe had seemed downtrodden for about a week before hesitantly asking Sander if he’d done something wrong or if Sander wasn’t actually attracted to him, and Sander had corrected his doubts and behaviour fairly quickly, because how dare the most beautiful boy in the universe think that?

“How do you feel you’re doing, Sander?” Agathe asks. “Because although I can observe, only you can feel what you feel. If you are genuinely worried, we can talk about it.”

“No,” Sander admits, after a moment. “I think everything is okay, actually.” Which is the best it can ever be, really.

Now her smile is genuinely happy. “I think so, too. And I think, even if it comes about that it’s not, you have a better support than ever. Do you agree?”

That one’s easy. “Yes.”

“It’s important to remember,” she adds, “maybe more than anything else, that if a lapse or an episode or whatever does occur, it’s not the end of the world. It’s also not a reflection of you, or a failure. Bad days, bad weeks, that’s all a part of life, and something we know you’re more than capable of dealing with and getting past. I’ve watched you do it many times before now and it’s an admirable, wonderful thing.”

Sander doesn’t actually know what to say to that. He just swallows, and feels oddly emotional, and offers her a slight nod.

The rest of the session passes in a lighter atmosphere. She lets him ramble about his assignment to alleviate what stress he does feel over it, and they spend the leftover minutes discussing his party.

Sander considers talking to her about the other thing on his mind, but ultimately decides against it. She’s already taught him how to work through that, and he really doesn’t think it will help to be putting it back into open air. Instead he leaves with a fairly upbeat farewell, and heads in the opposite direction from home.

Robbe had texted him about where he was meeting with Yasmina for a study session, and it takes Sander less than ten minutes of walking to get to the small cafe from his appointment. He sees the two of them as soon as he enters, but neither of them notice him, so he moves to the counter to buy himself a coffee before making his way over.

He’s a couple of feet away when Yasmina catches sight of him and offers her bright smile, and then Robbe is looking over his shoulder.

“Hello,” Sander greets them both, grinning as he cups Robbe’s cheek and leans down to kiss the crown of his head. “I can see we’re very busy.”

Robbe has his hand wrapped around Sander’s wrist, preventing him from pulling away. He turns his head and presses a sweet kiss to Sander’s palm, nuzzling lightly against it. Sander lets his fingers slip over and tug gently on the boy’s earring before Robbe tangles their hands together and offers Sander his crinkly smile. “Hi.”

“Not anymore, I guess,” Yasmina says dryly, but she’s still grinning when Sander glances back at her.

He raises his hands; well, his free one. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.” He hadn’t, really, he’d just wanted to be here when they were done to take Robbe home. He always likes being in the other boy’s company after a therapy session. Despite them not being quite so heavy at the moment, it’s always draining. Robbe is always able to replenish him with soft touches and soothing kisses, providing Sander with a silent, comforting company.

“Don’t be silly,” Robbe rebukes, predictably, swinging Sander’s hand idly now. “How are you?”

Sander squeezes his hand. “Good. I’m surprised you look so healthy, though.”

Robbe groans and buries his face against Sander’s arm. “Don’t. I’m suffering in silence.” He tilts his head ‘subtly’ at Yasmina.

Yasmina raises her brows at him, somehow managing to look wholly unimpressed and teasing all at once. “At least you can stave it off with sugar and coffee.”

Robbe has the sense to look sheepish, ducking his head in a nod. “You’re right, sorry, sorry.” He lets out a sigh. “You’re on too high of a level for me, Yasmina.”

“Queen shit,” Sander agrees, just to earn one of the girl’s unimpressed glances for himself. “Should I run now?”

She rolls her eyes. “Just sit down and drink your coffee. And keep your hands to yourself, if you can manage it? I still need my study partner, thank you.”

Sander grins and obeys, swinging a seat from the next table around to join them, dropping into it happily. He doesn’t place it as close to Robbe’s as he’d like, but Robbe leans into him for a moment anyway before refocusing his attention on his friend.

For the first while, Sander is content to listen and sip his coffee, feeling tiredness begin to creep into his bones. He lets his head loll against his own shoulder, trailing his eyes over Robbe’s profile and drifting into a sort of daydream. He can see the boy’s lips moving, but he has no idea what either of them are saying. They only let out the occasional comment, trading questions and answers and sighs and mutters. Robbe’s eyes are still red and a little puffy, a sign of his lingering exhaustion. He rubs at them absently as he looks down at his book and lets out another sigh, and leaves an eyelash on his cheek.

Sander reaches out and gently swipes it away with his thumb, an entirely mindless action that has Robbe looking at him in surprise before breaking out into a smile. He catches Sander’s hand before Sander can withdraw it completely, laying it on the table next to him. Instead of holding it, Robbe runs his hand along Sander’s sleeve, rubbing the soft seam between his fingers as he continues his work.

For some reason, it makes Sander blush. He’s sure his smile is unbearably happy, and he flicks a glance at Yasmina just to make sure she doesn’t know, only to catch her eye. She’s already smiling at him, and she purses her lips and raises her brows, teasing. Sander pulls a face at her, and she simply shakes her head as her smile widens.

“Can you work on your assignment while you’re waiting for us?” Robbe questions suddenly, drawing Sander’s attention back with a tilt of his head.

Sander glances at his bag, which he’s carried with him all day since he had to go straight to his session from a class. He considers for a moment but ultimately shakes his head. With yesterday being an exception, he usually prefers working at night—and when it’s not cutting into time he could otherwise spend admiring Robbe. “I’ll work on it when I go home,” he promises. Then, because he can’t help himself, “You’re too distracting.”

Robbe’s grin is small, and exasperated, but he yearns towards Sander, leaning across the table. Sander meets him and presses a quick kiss to his lips, then his nose, his cheek, before resolutely sitting back and waving at the textbooks and notes strewn in front of them. Robbe’s grin turns into a pout for half a second before he squeezes Sander’s wrist and focuses again.

Sander sinks back with a sigh, enjoying the feeling of Robbe’s fingers brushing against his wrist and skimming his hand, but he doesn’t feel quite as settled. There’s a prickle skittering over his neck, and he looks to his side and finds a woman staring at him.

Her nose is screwed, and there’s a vague curl to her lip. The disgust in her expression only heightens as Sander meets her eye and she flicks her gaze down to where Robbe’s hand rests over his. Sander can only stare back, dumbfounded.

When she looks at his face again, he raises his brows, as utterly bored as he can manage, and it only takes a moment for her to look away and get out of her seat across the cafe.

Sander tenses as she gets closer, hand enclosing around Robbe’s entirely, but she merely offers him another look before leaving. He deflates, squeezing Robbe’s fingers. It’s only when Robbe squeezes back that he panics again and quickly looks at the boy. But Robbe is in the middle of asking Yasmina a question, neither of them having noticed a thing.

“I meant to wish you a happy birthday,” Yasmina says, breaking him out of the moment. His mind has fogged over, and it takes him a moment to process the words. By then, she’s already moving on. “How was the party, anyway?”

Robbe and Sander share a look, and Yasmina waits. “Jens hardly said a word to me the whole day,” Robbe tells Sander, but he seems more amused than upset, so Sander allows himself to laugh.

“You didn’t tell him we didn’t actually do anything?”

“I did!” Robbe raises his hands. “He didn’t believe me.”

“What, what did you do to Jens?” Yasmina asks, confused. Then, after a second, “You know what, no, I probably don’t want to know.”

She cringes, and Robbe apologises profusely as Sander bursts into laughter, the weird incident from moments ago already forgotten.

Totally forgotten.

~^~

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