#stamps with a big gold star

[1dmonthlyficroundup]

— 1D Monthly Fic Roundup —

Hi, and welcome to the 1D Monthly Fic Roundup for July 2024! Below you’ll find 1D fics that were all published this month. We hope you’ll check out these new fics! If you would like to submit your own fic, please check this post on how to submit or visit our blog @1dmonthlyficroundup​. You can find all our other posts here.

Happy reading!

＊ Peeping by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom [E, 16k, Harry/Louis]

Louis hates his job as an accountant and desperately wants to be a teacher. Of course, that would mean going back to uni, which he can’t afford if he wants to keep up the mortgage payments on his house. It’s Niall that suggests Louis gets a housemate.

Harry is great around the house, loves cooking and cleaning, and everything is fine, lovely even. That is until Louis locks himself out of the house, and in his attempts to get inside, he stumbles upon Harry wanking to a video of Louis playing footy.

OR Louis has a thing for his housemate, Harry is under the impression that clothing around the house is an optional extra, and neither of them seem to be able to stop wanking long enough to get their shit together and admit their true feelings.

＊ Unbonded by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom [E, 24k, Louis/Harry]

“Look,” Louis says firmly. ���Last time I checked, I’m still the pack leader, so you damn well better listen to me. It was Harry who worked out what I’d been poisoned with, then nursed me back to health. And it was Harry who thwarted the plan for my second assassination attempt by literally throwing himself in front of an arrow intended for me, nearly dying in the process, which is why we’re even having this argument in the first place. So if you think I’m going to set foot outside of this hut until he’s fully healed, you’ve all seriously misread the situation, and even more importantly, you’ve all seriously misread me.”

OR the one where Harry is an omega who has been cast out from his pack, Louis is the alpha leader of the pack where Harry finds a new home, Liam is an alpha with heart of gold, and Niall is a cook who can't seem to stop setting himself on fire.

＊ frightened by the bite, no harsher than the bark by localopa / @voulezloux [T, 21k, Louis/Harry]

louis loves going to the barricade during his shows. if it’s because he’s got a bit (lot) of touch deprivation and is using it as an excuse to have his big alpha bodyguard, harry, touch him, well, that’s a secret he doesn’t need to tell.

＊ the past might be painful, but i’m in love with our future by localopa / @voulezloux [T, 10k, Harry/Louis]

it takes a lot of convincing for louis to let harry take him to his first pride. harry understands his worries and fears. really, he does. he just wants to show his boyfriend that he doesn’t have to be alone anymore.

a don’t be afraid to love (and love again) time stamp. Part 2 of trans louis verse

＊ If Life Is a Photograph by @allwaswell16 [T, 2k, Louis/Harry]

Harry gets plucked out of the crowd to take Louis’ crew pic on stage in Guadalajara.

＊ It Was Electric Touch by @allwaswell16 [E, 2k, Harry/Louis]

Harry, assistant to The Snuts' manager, has been indulging in fantasies about the headliner and founder of the Away From Home Festival, Louis Tomlinson. He gets the chance to indulge in the real thing at the after party.

＊ Tastes Like Violets by @allwaswell16 [T, 2k, Louis/Harry]

Pop star Harry Styles has a bit of a crush on his makeup artist's brother.

Or Louis has a death metal band, Harry doesn't mind public challenges via Twitter, and Lottie thinks they're both hopelessly chaotic.

＊ Coração selvagem by Stria / @nooradeservedbetter [NR, 50k, Louis/Harry]

Louis keeps his eyes on the Wolf, careful about every movement he makes. He keeps his head tilted, deliberately showing the right side of his neck; the mating gland is on the other side, but this still shows he’s not a threat. Zayn answers at the third ring. “Lou?” he asks, confusion seeping into his voice. “Zed,” Louis says quietly, trying to keep his tone as calm as possible. “Zed, I’ve found Harry. He’s feral.”

Or, Louis' life in his newfound Pack gets disrupted by an old flame coming back for him, shifted and feral.

＊ No Surprises by @louislittletomlintum [E, 21k, Harry/Louis]

The thing was, Louis worked in an office, and it was fine. It could be worse.

But maybe, it could be better.

“I smoke socially, sometimes. Depends who I’m with,” Harry shrugged, taking another puff. Louis watched his soft little lips wrap around it and purse just slightly on the inhale. It wasn’t the first time he considered if Harry was perfectly made just to torment him.

“Hm. I won’t send you to jail for now, then. On crimes of fibbing,” Louis decided benevolently. He was about to open his mouth to spout off some other shite before he saw Harry had a bit of a pensive look in his features despite how his eyes were a little glassy.

“Lou,” he began, and god Louis loved that he’d earned that little nickname off of him. “Can I ask you summat?” Harry added, tapping the ash of the cigarette in the tray before taking another puff.

“You just did,” Louis smiled because Harry walked right into that one. “But I’ll give you another,”

“How did you know you were queer?”

or; an office au where louis is a loveable brat and harry is working himself out

＊ Listening to Intuition by @lululawrence [NR, 5k, Louis/Harry]

Now that Zayn was laying it all out like this, Louis got to wondering… could it be possible that he was never able to get a really good handle on what exactly aromanticism was because he’d never felt romantic attraction, and without that key piece, how could he possibly figure out what it truly meant to be lacking it?

Louis has a good grasp of his own identity and how all the pieces of him fit together in his life as a queer man in a committed relationship with his partner. Or so he thinks until his favorite aroace TikTok creator shows him another possibility he may have previously overlooked. Part 1 of Looking for a Good Time

＊ Smells Like TEAM Spirit by @persephoneflouwers [NR, 10k, Harry/Louis]

Punk Louis and quarterback Harry have been secretly dating for years. Feeling overwhelmed by his commitments, Harry suggests a short break, fearing he can't give Louis enough time. As Louis reflects on his vulnerabilities, Harry struggles on the field without him. Part 1 of ~ Pocket Tales unfolding on Screen ~

＊ If Control is My Religion… by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28 [E, 14k, Louis/Harry]

“So just to recap, you’ve been vomiting every single morning, and then you seem to be fine for the rest of the day?”

Louis nods. “Except for yesterday when Liam was eating a tuna sandwich after practice and it smelled vile. Who the hell even likes tuna sandwiches?”

Niall sighs in the way that a disappointed parent might. “Louis, please don’t take this in the wrong way, because I’m not judging you at all. But is there any possibility that you’re pregnant?”

Louis scoffs. Technically, it is possible. Louis’ known he was a male carrier since his routine physical when he was sixteen. But it isn’t actually possible, not really. He and Harry always use a condom.

Except for that one day a few weeks ago when Louis had forgotten to buy more and they couldn’t wait. And the time the week before that when the condom had broke, but they both figured it was probably fine.

Shit.

(Or the one where Louis is a professional football player, who’s in a very mutually beneficial no-strings-attached relationship with the team’s medical trainer Harry. Everything in Louis’ life is exactly how he wants it. Until he finds himself unexpectedly pregnant).

＊ Forward by itsraininginengland / @ilovellama14 [E, 10k, Harry/Louis]

Harry and Louis must keep moving forward.

Quiet scenes from an older Louis and Harry, who are always working to be better together.

＊ Yesterday’s gone (it’ll be better than before) by red_panda28 / @red-pandaaa [E, 3k, Louis/Harry]

Leo’s frown. His attempt to call after Louis. Ed saying he was surprised to see Louis here. All those little moments fell into place the moment he spotted Harry Styles.

Harry Styles, his former bandmate.

Harry Styles, who he hadn’t seen face to face in over three years.

Harry Styles, who was technically still Harry Tomlinson-Styles.

OR Louis and Harry run into each other at the Euros, there's a mix up at the hotel and they have a past

＊ Following the Good Vibes by @lululawrence [NR, 6k, Harry/Louis]

"Oh my god, I can't believe it's really you!" Zayn said with a wide smile, hands on his hips as if he was truly stunned over the fact this guy was sitting just a couple of seats behind him. "I thought it might be when I heard your voice, but I haven't seen you in years! How are you doing..."

It was then Zayn realized he didn't have a fucking clue what this guy's name was and he was pretending they were long lost friends.

After an awkward pause, Zayn finally tacked on, "...Chad!"

When Zayn rescues a stranger named Harry from an awkward plane ride beside a total dick, he doesn't think much of it. Harry as the chance to pay it forward on a later flight, and in doing so he just might set into motion pieces that will determine the path his future takes. Part 2 of Looking for a Good Time

＊ It's Not That I Don't Want You by @parmahamlarrie [E, 12k, Louis/Harry]

It begins with a benign comment during a night in watching a show with his lovely boyfriend, Louis, and leads Harry to a months long journey to understand himself better. Will Harry figure out what makes him feel so different from everyone else? And will he find the courage to tell his boyfriend?

Or a character study into Ace Harry with the most supportive boyfriend, Louis.

＊ I'd Rather You (Hold Me)by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed [T, 14k, Zayn/Louis]

He frowns when he hears the dial tone. By now, he knows just how many times the sound will come through, tinny on the speakers, before it clicks over to voicemail, and yet he still feels his heart trip over itself whenever the voice first comes through.

“Hi, you’ve reached Zayn-”

He sighs, rubbing at his forehead, where his headache always tends to bloom when he’s stressed. “Fuck’s sake,” he grumbles, disconnecting the call and resisting the childish urge to redial immediately, knowing that if Zayn’s not picking up now, he won’t no matter how much Louis bugs him.

It’s just - this isn’t like them. It isn’t like Zayn to dodge his calls for days, not unless he’s seriously incapacitated or dead, but if that were the case, Louis would’ve heard. Because Louis is his emergency contact, for one, and both their families know how much they mean to one another. Someone would’ve called, if something had happened, unless Zayn was dead in his own house, and, oh God, what if Zayn’s dead in his own house and Louis has been mentally calling him a dickhead while he’s rotting on the bathroom floor?

Spoiler: Zayn isn't dead. There is however, suddenly a baby.

＊ coming home by @nouies [E, 2k, Louis/Harry]

It’s coming home, one way or another.

＊ Never Wanted Love, Just A Fancy Car by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove [M, 7k, Harry/fLouis]

“Anyways,” the man says, “someone as handsome as you shouldn’t be sitting all alone with an empty glass. Can I get you a drink?”Louis raises an eyebrow, snorting. “It’s an open bar,” he says. “The company is buying the drinks.”“Well.” The man laughs nervously. “I suppose so. But it is my company, so. I guess I already bought you a drink?”Louis feels his head jerk up in surprise, his mouth falling open as he looks into the face of COO Harry Styles, son of founder and CEO Desmond Styles.

When graphic designer Louis gets asked out by C-suite executive Harry, he thinks Harry is trying to take advantage of him. But he's willing to take advantage of him right back, if that's what it takes to get ahead in life and get his sister's new business off the ground.

＊ your brightest star by staybeautiful / @harruandlou [E, 35k, Louis/Harry]

“My baby,” Louis whispered into Harry’s neck, closing his eyes tightly into the embrace. Harry squeezed him closer and Louis could feel him nodding into his throat before he kissed him gently behind the ear.

“I love you,” Harry mumbled into his shoulder.

He tried to move closer, but they were already pressed together from cheek to where their ankles were tangled precariously together. “Me too, me too.”

“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispered, just for Louis’ ears. They swayed slightly, like a delicate dance to the distilled noise around them.

“Oh, darling. Sunshine.”

Or a series of timestamps from the sunshine, baby! universe 𖤓 Part 2 of you're the sun to me

＊ we could be enough by @hellolovers13 [M, 5k, Harry/Louis]

“You know I am flirting with you, right?”

Louis freezes mid-bite. Just manages not to choke on his steak.

Harry laughs a bit too loudly, almost like he’s nervous. “Yeah, should’ve known you weren’t the observant kind. You think I get this dressed up for a random dinner with a mate on a Tuesday night?”

or Louis never imagined anyone could love him for who he truly is.

Then he meets Harry.

＊ Just The Way You Are by @enchantedlandcoffee [G, 780 words, Louis/Harry]

"Do you miss it?" "Miss what, love?" He could hear the frown in Louis’ voice, and tried to subtly release soothing pheromones into the kitchen "You know...sex and all that." "Where's this coming from, Haz?"

Or, the one where Harry confesses his worries, and Louis reassures him. Part 1 of I Just Wanna Love You

＊ This Feels Like Home by @enchantedlandcoffee [G, 300 words, Harry/Louis]

After one too many nights alone in a hotel bed, Harry flies home on a whim to surprise his husband.

[rainintheevening]

The day 19-year-old Peter Pevensie ships out for the Mediterranean, lieutenant's commission and a COs commendation in hand, he's all tall, golden boy in British khaki with a soft smile and a merry laugh and oddly old eyes.

His socks are hand-knitted, with his initials PWP worked in around the top. He wears a small golden lion on a leather string around his neck, tucked under his shirt alongside his dogtags.

In his kit bag he carries a Bible, new, brown leather, not too big to be jammed in a pocket. The writing on the first page is tidy, a little squared off, no blots: June 1943, Peter, my brother, my captain, my king. We are all held safe between the paws of the Lion. Ephesians 6:10-18.

Tucked in beside that is a small, chunky book of Spurgeon's sermons, with Prof. Digory Kirke in the corner of the flyleaf, and a loose-leaf of paper that Peter uses for a bookmark, precious though it is, covered in his father's barely legible scratch.

There's a hand-bound book of poems, copied by Lucy and collected with several of Susan's watercolours, all trees like old friends and flowers like stars and rolling English hills. It will take months for those pages to stop smelling like home.

Next to that is tucked a sturdy little journal, pencil attached and fat with empty cream-coloured pages. It will take only a week for it to lose its clean smell, and the many words scribbled there will make it fatter still.

Three others are piled in around those—a beat-up hardback novel stripped of its dust jacket and stamped as White Fang, a bright new George MacDonald novel with Be brave, my son, and may the adventure always bring you safely home. Mother penned inside, and another naked hardback identified along its spine as The Aeneid.

Some eyebrows get raised at the extra weight of that library, but Peter is charming and humble, and he'll be the only one to suffer from it anyway.

A little more than two years later Peter Pevensie will return with a captain’s epaulets on his shoulders, and the same soft smile on a leaner, browner face.

He will be wearing an entirely different pair of socks, but still ones that have PWP worked into the stripes along the top.

The leather string will be gone, and so will the little gold lion, folded into a shaking hand, given with a murmured prayer and a kiss pressed to salty fevered forehead, somewhere on the side of an Italian mountain.

The books will be nearly all there. The Bible, wrinkled with water damage, fingerprinted with little dark smears, it's cover scored with a smokey black streak. The poetry, cared for so carefully; the sermons, well earmarked and notated; the MacDonald novel now sans dust jacket, spine cracked, and with grit worked into its creases.

The Aeneid will still be there, though greatly altered thanks to the bullet buried in the upper half of it.

White Fang will be missing, left in the hands of a wildly curious, dream-eyed Arab boy, who will pick up English like a starving man picks up food, and will cry when the Fighting Fifth gets shipped back to Italy. There will be a black and white photograph tucked into its pages— four soldiers surrounding a tall, fair-haired one with a thin dark-headed boy standing high atop his shoulders, arms raised as if he would fall forward into flight, all smiling.

Peter will carry the journal home in his pocket, all muddy and smoky, all smeared with pencil lead and sweat, bloody fingerprints on a few pages, heavy with a thousand and one thoughts, the unburdening of his heart, all ready to be placed in his brother’s hands.

Peter Pevensie will return like his books, with dirt in the creases, a little worn, a little tattered, a little scarred. But his wise old (kingly) eyes... they shine the same way when he smiles, sun in his golden hair.

[morbidsmenagerie]

Making Better State Insects

So at some point I stumbled across a list of State Insects. Honestly I wasn't even aware states had "state insects", but as I looked down the list my disappointment grew. A vast majority of states had selected the European honeybee (which is not even native) as their state insect, with monarch butterflies and ladybugs being the two runner ups. I thought this was a damn shame because there's so many interesting insects in the US, so I'm making a better official new list of state insects.

For this list my criteria are:

Insect must be native to the state

No repeats

Insect must be easily observable to the naked eye

I also had general guidelines of picking insects that were relatively common (based on inaturalist heat maps of observation) and picking insects that were cool or interesting. Some of these insects I picked because I thought they were important parts of the areas culture and experience (lovebugs, toebiters, and periodical cicadas) and some insects I picked just to raise awareness that they exist in the US.

I also don't think I gave anyone huge L's, no mosquitoes, louses, cockroaches, ect, because my goal of this list is to get people interested in their native insects and I want it to be fun to find and observe your state insect.

Also some states get gold stars for picking state insects that already meet these criteria and are cool so they get to keep theirs. Some states also have "state butterflies" or "state agricultural insect" which for this list I'm ignoring, you can keep those I'm just focused on state insects. Slight disclaimer also, I've only ever lived in California, Nevada, Oregon, Washington, and South Carolina, and all these states are keeping their original state insect. So all the insects I'm choosing are for states I haven't lived in. Also I'm not including photos in this post just for my own sanity.

List under the cut!

Alabama

Old: Monarch Butterfly

New: Giant Leaf-footed Bug (Acanthocephala declivis)

Leaf-footed bugs are cute, they're big, they're stanced up, the males have big back legs, you've probably seen them. Being true bugs they have piercing mouthparts and suck plant juices.

Alaska

Four-spot Skimmer (Libellula quadrimaculata)

Alaska gets to keep their old state insect, it's a cool dragonfly and apparently was partially chosen to honor bush pilots who fly to deliver supplies in the Alaskan wilderness, so really cool!

Arizona

Two-tailed swallowtail butterfly (Papilio multicaudata)

Arizona also gets to keep their state insect. Kind of a shame because Arizona has a lot of cool species, but it did meet my requirements and they get points for choosing a different kind of butterfly.

Arkansas

Old: European honeybee

New: North American Wheel Bug (Arilus cristatus)

One of the largest assassin bugs in the US, these guys are appreciated by gardeners for their environmentally friendly pest control. They also look badass.

California

California Dogface Butterfly (Zerene eurydice)

Endemic to California and on a stamp! Again, kind of a shame because there's a lot of cool insects in California, but I respect this choice, especially since California was the first state to designate a state insect (1929).

Colorado

Colorado Hairstreak Butterfly (Hypaurotis crysalus)

Same deal as California, the state's name is in the common name, unique butterfly found in the four corners region. Just get a stamp or something soon!

Connecticut

Old: European Praying Mantis

New: Cecropia Moth (Hyalophora cecropia)

You picked a state insect no one else had but went with a nonnative mantis? Here's an insect that'll make you stand out and it's a native species. Lesser known than some of the other giant silk moths, the Cecropia moth is the largest native moth and has some truly stunning colors.

Delaware

Old: Convergent Ladybeetle

New: Periodical Cicada (Magicicada septendecim)

Cicada's had to be somewhere on this list and Delaware was one of the main hotspots for brood X, one of the largest broods of the multiple staggered brood cycles. Hey, they have a lot of history in America. Accounts go back as early as 1733, with Thomas Jefferson and Benjamin Franklin making a note of them.

District of Columbia

Old: None

New: Monarch Butterfly (Danaus plexippus)

The Entomological Society of America is trying to get the Monarch Butterfly added as our national insect, so I think that's reason enough to let DOC claim it.

Florida

Zebra Butterfly (Heliconius charithonia)

Florida gets to keep their state butterfly, but the populations that have existed in Florida are in steep decline. Ideally I would want being the official state insect to come with some protections, hopefully people can get invested in reintroducing them.

Georgia

Old: European Honeybee

New: Horned Passalus Beetle (Odontotaenius disjunctus)

Also called bess beetles or patent-leather beetles, these cute guys are important for forest systems because they eat decaying wood, helping to break down felled trees. They're cute beetles that squeak when disturbed.

Hawaii

Kamehameha Butterfly (Vanessa tameamea)

An endemic Hawaiian butterfly named after a ruling dynasty of Hawaii. Their population is under threat, as with a lot of native Hawaiian species, so I think this is a good state insect to build protections and activism around.

Idaho

Old: Monarch Butterfly

New: Ice Crawler (Grylloblatta sp. "Polaris Peak")

Look Idaho, I have to admit that even though I've traveled extensively through WA, OR, CA, and NV I've never stepped foot in Idaho and I don't intend to. Your state exists in a weird liminal zone, not really the pacific northwest but not really whatever Montana is either. Your state isn't even all in one time zone. So look, I really wanted ice crawlers to be on this list, but they're exclusively found on mountains in the pacific northwest and Sierra Nevadas. Normally I would've given them to Washington or Oregon, but those states already have state insects that work for them. So your state gets ice crawlers, and they do exist in Idaho in the panhandle. It's not an L, ice crawlers are amazing extremophiles that crawl over snow in high elevation mountain peaks. They exist in their own unique order and theres only one genus in the US, with different species being region locked, sometimes onto specific mountains. Their thermoregulation is so delicate, the warmth of someones hand holding them causes them to over heat and die. They're cool, unique, and weird, and let's face it so is your state. At least I didn't take a cop out by picking the potato bug.

Illinois

Old: Monarch Butterfly

New: Red-banded Leafhopper (Graphocephala coccinea)

Leafhopper done Chicago style.

Indiana

Old: Say's Firefly

New: Common True Katydid (Pterophylla camellifolia)

I wanted to give you Say's Firefly. I really did. But when I looked on Inaturalist not A SINGLE OBSERVATION was listed for the species in Indiana. I'm even going to post pictures.

So even though this is extremely funny I'm giving your state the Common True Katydid instead. Large, loud, and easy to spot, these guys can frequently be heard chirping in trees. Not only do different populations have different rates of chirp, but the rate of chirp is also so predictably dependent on temperature that you could make an equation to tell the temperature based on chirp rate.

Iowa

Old: None

New: Westfall's Snaketail (Ophiogomphus westfalli)

Really cool clubtail dragonfly that's almost exclusively found in Iowa, Missouri, and Arkansas.

Kansas

Old: European Honeybee

New: Rainbow Scarab (Phanaeus vindex)

A kind of true dung beetle, they play an important role in removing waste. And although they don't roll waste like the stereotypical dung beetles, they are extremely pretty.

Kentucky

Viceroy Butterfly (Limenitis archippus)

This is fine.

Louisiana

Old: European Honeybee

New: Lovebug (Plecia nearartica)

Look, one of the southern states was going to get this one and Louisiana has a majority of the observations for them. Although annoying, it's things like having to scrape thousands of flies off your car that makes the Southern experience. Embrace it!

Maine

Old: European Honeybee

New: Brown Wasp Mantidfly (Climaciella brunnea)

I really wanted these guys to be somewhere on the list. Neither a wasp, mantis, or fly, these are predatory neuropterans related to lacewings. They have raptorial front legs (resembling a mantis) and their coloration resembles paper wasps that they live alongside. Weird, unique, and wonderful!

Maryland

Baltimore Checkerspot Butterfly (Euphydryas phaeton)

This butterfly might've been picked for the resemblance of the state flag. It's in decline in it's native range, so hopefully more awareness and consideration to state insects will help push conservation efforts.

Massachusetts

Old: Ladybug

New: Hornet Clearwing Moth (Paranthrene simulans)

Hornet mimic moth, the caterpillars feed on chestnuts and oaks. All lepidopterans (moths and butterflies) have modified hairs on their wings that form the "scales" that give this order their name. For this moth though, parts of it's wings don't have any scales so it more convincingly resembles a hornet. Underneath the scales, butterfly and moth wings look pretty much like any other insect's wing. Cool!

Michigan

Old: None

New: American Salmonfly (Pteronarcys dorsata)

The biggest salmonfly in North America. They make excellent fishing bait, and several fly fisherman use salmonfly lures to catch trout. Their nymphs are also an important indicator of water quality, with them being one of the first species to disappear in the presence of pollution or contaminants.

Minnesota

Old: Monarch Butterfly

New: American Giant Water Bug (Lethocerus americanus)

Also one of the ones that had to be on the list somewhere, and the Inat heatmap says Minnesota. Toebiters are part of the experience, and they are cool and ferocious looking.

Mississippi

Old: European Honeybee

New: Eastern Eyed Click Beetle (Alaus oculatus)

Click beetles have a cool adaption that allows them to launch themselves in the air to avoid predators. This makes an audible sound, hence their common name. The Eastern Eyed Click Beetle is one of the largest and most striking click beetles in the US, with large false eyespots on their thorax.

Missouri

Old: European Honeybee

New: Goldenrod Soldier Beetle (Chauliognathus pensylvanicus)

A soldier beetle that feeds on aphids and small plant pests, these beetles also eat pollen and nectar from flowers. They don't harm the flower, and though their common name reflects their preference for goldenrod flowers, they're also an important pollinator of the prairie onion (Allium stellatum). This is a native species of onion that grows from Minnesota to Arkansas.

Montana

Old: Mourning Cloak

New: Western Sheep Moth (Hemileuca eglanterina)

Mourning Cloak butterflies do technically work for my criteria, but I wanted to showcase some more regional insects in this as well, as Mourning Cloaks are found throughout North America and Eurasia. The Western Sheep Moth is an absolutely stunning giant silk moth, found throughout the western United States. Although not as big as some other silk moths, the bold orange and black coloration on these make them absolutely stand out.

Nebraska

Old: European Honeybee

New: Blowout Tiger Beetle (Cicindela lengi)

A tiger beetle with unique patterns, these guys are active predators and are particularly difficult to spot because they run extremely quickly. They seem to be pretty cold tolerant and exist from Colorado up into Canada.

Nevada

Vivid Dancer Damselfly (Argia Vivida)

This damselfly was picked as Nevada's state insect because it's widespread throughout the state and matches the state colors, silver and blue. That gets my seal of approval!

New Hampshire

Two-spotted Lady Beetle (Adalia bipunctata)

This is fine.

New Jersey

Old: European Honeybee

New: Margined Calligrapher (Toxomerus marginatus)

A pretty hoverfly, they strongly resemble bees in both looks and behavior. Larvae feed on common plant pests such as thrips and aphids, while the adults sip nectar and pollinate flowers. These helpful attributes make it something the Garden State can appreciate!

New Mexico

Tarantula Hawk (Pepsis grossa)

New Mexico wins the official state insect list by a landslide. Not only is the tarantula hawk a super cool and formidable insect to showcase, but New Mexico's state butterfly (Sandia Hairstreak) was discovered in New Mexico. No notes 10/10!

New York

Nine-spotted Lady Beetle (Coccinella novemnotata)

A native species of lady beetle that's been in decline in recent years, New York is one of the last remaining states where they've been spotted. I also appreciate that New York designated a specific ladybug species instead of just saying "Coccinellidae species".

North Carolina

Old: European Honeybee

New: Eastern Rhinoceros Beetle (Xyloryctes jamaicensis)

A large native species of rhinoceros beetle. They breed in ash trees, and are under threat due to competition from the Emerald Ash Borer.

North Dakota

Old: None

New: Nuttall's Blister Beetle (Lytta nuttalli)

As with all blister beetles, these guys have a chemical defense. Unlike the more famous Bombardier Beetle thought, instead of being black and red they are iridescent red/purple and green.

Ohio

Old: Ladybug

New: Bald-faced Hornet (Dolichovespula maculata)

Look, when the one thing everyone knows about your state is that it sucks, it's time to lean into it. Bald-faced hornets, everyone knows them, everyone has opinions about them, and they get a lot of attention. I don't think I have to explain this one anymore.

Oklahoma

Old: European Honeybee

New: Giant Walking Stick (Megaphasma denticrus)

The largest insect in the United States. Being a native walking stick, they're less damaging than the imported invasive walking sticks that are heavily controlled.

Oregon

Oregon Swallowtail Butterfly (Papilio oregonius)

Oregon in the common name and in the species name, and also has a stamp!

Pennsylvania

Pennsylvania Firefly (Photuris pensylvanica)

Pennsylvania in the common name and species name. If fireflies weren't already on this list I would've made sure to include them somewhere.

Rhode Island

American Burying Beetle (Nicrophorus americanus)

When I saw this on the list I was worried. American Burying Beetles are one of my favorite insects, but they're extremely endangered now. I also thought they existed more in the midwest, so I was worried I would have to change this one because it violated the "native to the region" rule. But! To my pleasant surprise, not only did their historic range extend to Rhode Island, but there is actually a carefully maintained wild population on Block Island. They estimate between 750-1000 individuals live there, making it one of the few remaining places where the American Burying Beetle still exists. Excellent work Rhode Island!

South Carolina

Carolina Mantis (Stagmomantis carolina)

This is fine. I wanted to give South Carolina the Palmetto bug but they're actually not native.

South Dakota

Old: European Honeybee

New: Golden Northern Bumble Bee (Bombus fervidus)

"Save the bees" should really be focused on native pollinators, many of whom are in decline. There are a lot of species of native bee you can feature as a state insect, with the Golden Northern Bumble Bee being a particularly large and striking species.

Tennessee

Old: Firefly and ladybug

New: Black-waved Flannel Moth (Megalopyge crispata)

Seriously look them up, these guys are adorable.

Texas

Old: Monarch Butterfly

New: Rainbow Grasshopper (Dactylotum bicolor)

It was really hard to pick an insect for your state. The Texas Unicorn Mantis was a contender but I eliminated it because it's really only found in the southern part of Texas, so it was between the Rainbow Grasshopper and the Eastern Velvet Ant (or Cow Killer). I went with the Rainbow Grasshopper because it's more wide spread and common, and occurs everywhere except the east part of Texas. But the Eastern Velvet Ant only occurs on the east part of Texas, maybe you should get an East and West Texas insect? I also thought more people have probably already heard of the Eastern Velvet Ant than the Rainbow Grasshopper, which is a shame because they're super interesting to look at.

Utah

Old: European Honeybee

New: Mormon Cricket (Anabrus simplex)

Mormon Crickets are not true crickets, and instead closer related to katydids. Their common name comes from an early account of Latter-day Saint settlers in Utah. In 1848, a swarm of Mormon Crickets decimated the settler's crops, so the legend goes that they prayed for relief from this plague of insects. Later that year, a swarm of gulls appeared and ate the crickets, thus saving the crops. This is recounted in the "miracle of the gulls" story. To recognize their contributions, the California Gull is commemorated as Utah's state bird. I thought it was fitting then that the Mormon Cricket be recognized as your state insect.

Vermont

Old: European Honeybee

New: Long-tailed Giant Ichneumon Wasp (Megarhyssa macrurus)

A pretty wasp with an extremely long ovipositor, these wasps are common in deciduous forests across the eastern United States. They can't sting, and instead use their long ovipositor to stab into tree bark and deposit eggs on the horntail larvae that burrow into the trees.

Virginia

Old: Eastern Tiger Swallowtail Butterfly

New: Giant Stag Beetle (Lucanus elaphus)

A large stag beetle native to the Eastern United States. Although not as well known as their similar looking fellow stag beetles from Japan, these guys are a lovely chocolate brown instead of solid black. Like most stag beetles, they breed in decaying wood.

Washington

Green Darner Dragonfly (Anax junius)

I imagine this was chosen because it matches the flag.

West Virginia

Old: European Honeybee

New: Appalachian Tiger Beetle (Cicindela ancocisconensis)

This tiger beetle likes hilly terrain. As with all tiger beetles, they can be hard to spot because they run across the ground in search of prey. They are fast! But this can make it more rewarding when you finally catch up to one.

Wisconsin

Old: European Honeybee

New: Phantom Crane Fly (Bittacomorpha clavipes)

Don't believe old wive's tales about crane flies drinking gallons of blood, they are nonbiting. Those striking black and white legs are hollow, and are held out when they fly, making an extremely distinct sight that's been likened to sparklers or snowflakes.

Wyoming

Sheridan's Hairstreak (Callophrys sheridanii)

This is fine.

[estellan0vella]

Love In Print│Bang Chan

Chapter Eighteen: Room 143 SS: (ignore time stamps and dates) Word Count: 4.3K Content Warnings: talks of bad parenting, neglectful parents, parental expectations, parental death, implied sex

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Ayame hums softly to herself, standing in her living room as she adjusts the ornaments on her Christmas tree. Her fuzzy socks slide a little on the hardwood floor as she steps back to admire her work. The tree glitters with warm lights and ornaments in shades of gold and white, and a star rests crookedly at the top. She tilts her head, a satisfied smile tugging at her lips until there's a sharp knock at her door.

She frowns, glancing at the clock. "Who the fuck...?"

Padding over to the door, she pulls it open, and there stands Chan. He's bundled up in a black coat, his scarf loose around his neck, and his hair looks like he ran his hands through it one too many times. His smirk is already in place, like he's rehearsed it.

"Who let you in the building?" Ayame asks, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe.

"I scaled the wall," Chan replies smoothly, his tone deadpan. When she arches an eyebrow, he grins wider. "Okay, your neighbor let me in. Sweet lady. Big fan of my dimples."

Ayame narrows her eyes. "Well, she's off the Christmas card list. What do you want?"

Chan steps past her into the apartment without waiting for an invitation, shrugging off his coat as he speaks. "I'm here to pick you up."

"For what?" Ayame snaps, shutting the door behind him.

"For my brother's wedding," he says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Ayame stares at him, her mouth falling open. "Are you fucking serious?"

"Dead serious," Chan replies. "You owe me."

"For what?" Ayame demands, following him into the living room.

Chan turns, ticking off his fingers as he speaks. "Let's see. Taking care of you when you were sick and puked all over me? Letting you kiss me in the supply closet and not telling anyone about it—"

Ayame groans, cutting him off. "Okay, fine! But why am I going to your brother's wedding?"

"Because I told him I'd bring a date," Chan says with a shrug, "and I can't show up alone. That would look bad."

"Bad for what?" Ayame asks, glaring. "Your ego?"

Chan grins, stepping closer. "Bad for my parents. They've been hounding me about settling down, and if I show up with someone as smart and accomplished as you, they'll back off."

Ayame blinks, her frustration faltering for a moment. "Smart and accomplished?"

Chan's smirk softens into something almost genuine. "Yeah. Don't let it go to your head."

Ayame narrows her eyes again, crossing her arms. "This is such a bad idea."

Chan shrugs. "I'll be in the car. Ten minutes. Don't make me come back up here."

He's out the door before she can protest, leaving her standing in the middle of her living room, fuming. "Un-fucking-believable," she mutters, stalking toward her bedroom to grab a bag.

By the time Ayame makes it downstairs, she's thrown on a black turtleneck, an argyle-patterned black-and-white mini skirt, and her tallest stilettos. She spots Chan leaning casually against his car, scrolling through his phone. He looks up as she approaches, his eyes flicking over her outfit before settling on her face.

"Stilettos and a mini skirt?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. "It's December."

"Yep," Ayame replies, tossing her bag into the open trunk. "And did you tell your parents that your date is twenty-five?"

Chan's grin turns wicked. "Nope. I want to see my father's face when he finds out you're fresh out of your master's program in person."

Ayame groans, climbing into the passenger seat and slamming the door. "You are such a menace."

"And yet," Chan says, sliding into the driver's seat and starting the car, "you're still here."

"Only because you fucking guilt-tripped me," Ayame shoots back, buckling her seatbelt. "And because you're clearly incapable of dealing with your parents without backup."

Chan glances at her, his smirk widening. "And because you like me."

Ayame scoffs, turning to look out the window. "Keep telling yourself that, Bang."

As the car pulls out onto the road, Chan chuckles softly. "Oh, I will, shortcake. All the way to the wedding."

Ayame leans back in the passenger seat, the soft hum of the car's engine lulling her slightly as Chan manoeuvres through light traffic. She fiddles with her seatbelt absentmindedly before speaking up.

"So, what should I know about your family?" she asks, turning her head to look at him. "I mean, I know they're all surgeons, and I met Felix briefly when you called him over while I had the flu. But honestly, I was in a fever haze. I remember blonde hair and freckles, but that's about it."

Chan glances at her briefly, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Yep, that's Lix. He's the golden boy of the family. Blonde, freckles, the works. The guy looks like a Disney prince but acts like a golden retriever."

Ayame chuckles, imagining it. "And the rest?"

"My mother, Jess, is amazing. She's warm, funny, and she'll absolutely love you. She'll probably tell you she wants to keep you forever, so prepare for that."

Ayame grins. "Good to know. And your dad?"

Chan's expression tightens, his hands gripping the wheel a bit more firmly. "Complicated. He's... hard to deal with. Last time I was home, we had a fight."

"What about?" Ayame asks, tilting her head.

"A lot of things," Chan says with a sigh. "Me leaving med school, that's a big one. He won't let it go. That, and my girlfriend had just broken up with me, so he and Felix decided it was the perfect time to tag-team me about all my 'failures.'"

Ayame snorts. "You? A girlfriend? That's hard to imagine. I always pictured you as the let's-not-put-a-label-on-it type."

Chan raises an eyebrow but keeps his focus on the road. "Sometimes you're wrong, shortcake."

"Huh," Ayame hums, turning to look out the window, watching the snowy streets blur past.

"What about your family?" Chan asks after a moment.

Ayame doesn't respond immediately, her fingers tracing patterns on the glass of the window. "Don't remember my father," she says finally. "He died in a car crash when I was young."

Chan's voice softens. "I'm sorry."

"Oh no, don't be," Ayame says with a bitter laugh. "He crashed the car while trying to leave my eomma and me. So, you know, karma."

Chan blinks, unsure of how to respond to that. "And your mother?"

Ayame shifts in her seat, her tone sharpening. "Let's just say I'm not her proudest achievement. After my dad left, well, after he died, but technically while he was leaving us, she turned into a perfectionist. Everything had to look perfect, be perfect. She never even told anyone he left us; just pretended to be this grieving widow."

Chan whistles low. "That's intense."

"She wanted me to become a lawyer, marry a rich guy, and be a housewife by twenty-two. And here I am, twenty-five, with a master's degree in classical lit, living in an apartment alone, no marriage, no babies, and definitely not a lawyer."

Chan glances at her again, his voice quiet. "Do you two talk?"

"Barely," Ayame says with a shrug. "I get the obligatory happy birthday texts. Sometimes, she sends me messages like 'My friend's son is looking for a wife.' I ignore those."

Chan lets out a low chuckle. "Figures."

Ayame smirks, leaning her head back against the seat. "I guess Minho makes up for it. He's like my dad, my older brother, and the bad influence uncle all rolled into one."

"He's only a few years older than you, right?" Chan asks.

"Yeah, three years," Ayame says fondly. "But he's great. He's been there for me in ways my actual family never was."

Chan nods, a quiet moment settling between them. "Sounds like he's got your back."

"Always," Ayame agrees, letting her eyes close briefly. "Always."

The lodge lobby is warm and rustic, the walls lined with wooden beams and old photographs of snow-covered peaks. A large fireplace crackles to one side, the scent of pine and aged wood mingling in the air. Ayame walks up to the reception desk, her heels clicking softly against the polished stone floor. She presses the little silver bell once. A loud ding echoes, and before she can blink, a man pops up from behind the desk like a jack-in-the-box.

"Hi!" the man exclaims with an impossibly wide grin.

Ayame yelps, stumbling back a step. "What the fuck?!"

Chan, standing beside her, jumps slightly and mutters under his breath, "Jesus Christ."

"How can I help you?" the man asks cheerfully, completely unbothered by the chaos he's caused.

Chan recovers quickly, stepping forward with his usual calm demeanour, though there's a slight edge to his voice. "Bang Chan. I've got two rooms booked under my name. We're part of the wedding party here this weekend."

The man nods, swivelling dramatically to the computer as if he's in a Broadway production. "Bang, Bang, Bang," he murmurs to himself, his fingers flying over the keyboard. "Ah, Bang! That's a fun name. Is it with a B?"

Chan blinks, confused. "Yeah. B for Bang."

The man tilts his head. "Is it two Bs?"

"No, just one B," Chan says, his brow furrowing as his patience thins. "Like a normal fucking name."

The man suddenly freezes, his cheerful expression dimming into something far more apologetic. "Oh. Uh. I am so sorry, but there's only one room."

Ayame stares at him, her hands dropping to her sides. "Of course there fucking is."

Chan frowns, his tone sharp. "What do you mean, one room? I booked two."

The man, his name tag reads Wooyoung in bold letters, grimaces dramatically. "Yeah, see, about that... We had a mix-up. It's a very busy weekend. Big wedding, lots of rooms. One room got, uh, sacrificed."

"Sacrificed?" Ayame repeats, her voice flat. 

Wooyoung raises his hands in mock surrender. "Not my choice! Blame the system. Or management. Or Mercury in retrograde."

Chan exhales slowly, clearly resisting the urge to explode. "There's nothing else available?"

Wooyoung shakes his head with a sorrowful expression that feels more like an act. "Nada. Zilch. Not even the broom closet."

Ayame throws her hands up, muttering, "This is why I don't leave Seoul."

Chan scowls, his jaw tight. "Unbelievable."

"It's fine," Ayame says, stepping in before Chan can start a scene. She places a hand on his arm. "We'll figure it out. It's not like Wooyoung can conjure another room out of thin air."

"I could try," Wooyoung interjects, winking at Ayame. "But my spellbook's at home."

Chan looks like he's about to combust, but Ayame squeezes his arm and shoots him a look. "Let it go. Don't ruin Wooyoung's day."

Wooyoung clasps his hands together, grinning. "She is absolutely right. Please don't ruin my day. It's been going so well."

Chan pinches the bridge of his nose. "Fine. One room."

Wooyoung beams and slides a piece of paper across the counter with a flourish. "Room 143. It's a lovely room. Very cosy. You'll love it."

Ayame raises an eyebrow. "143? Like 'I love you'? Seriously?"

"Exactly!" Wooyoung chirps, finger-gunning at her.

"Of course," Ayame mutters under her breath.

"No keys," Wooyoung adds with a cheerful wave of his hand. "We keep everything unlocked here. It's a trust thing. Just head up the stairs, second door on the left. If you need anything, call me. Or yell. I'll probably hear you."

Chan lets out a quiet groan, rubbing his temples. "Thanks, Wooyoung."

"Enjoy your stay!" Wooyoung says brightly as they walk away, his voice following them. "And remember, love is in the air!"

Ayame glances at Chan, her lips twitching with amusement. "He's something, isn't he?"

"Something fucking insane," Chan mutters, leading the way to the stairs. "This weekend's already a shitshow."

Ayame grins, following him. "Buckle up, Bang. It's just getting started."

As they head down the dimly lit hallway toward their room, Ayame slides behind Chan, nudging him forward with her hands firmly pressed against his back. "You're stepping in first," she declares, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Chan glances over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised. "And why is that, shortcake?"

"Because," Ayame starts, gesturing broadly, "you have big, wide shoulders and are built like a fucking fortress. If an axe-wielding maniac decides to make an example of this unlocked-trust nonsense Wooyoung mentioned, you're the obvious choice to fight them off while I make my heroic escape."

Chan huffs, turning his attention back to the door ahead. "Wow. Sacrificial lamb. Got it. Anything else?"

"Yes," Ayame says, dead serious. "You're thirty. I'm twenty-five. Statistically, you've had more time to enjoy life. Also, you'll never have to go grey, so really, you're winning here."

"You're insane," Chan mutters, shaking his head as they reach their door. "And dramatic."

Ayame ducks further behind him, peeking over his shoulder as he grabs the doorknob. "Just remember. Sacrifices."

Chan sighs, pushing the door open cautiously. The soft creak of the hinges and the faint smell of pine greet them. He steps in first, his shoulders tense like he's bracing for an ambush.

"See anything suspicious?" Ayame whispers from behind him.

Chan scans the room and then steps aside, motioning grandly. "No axe murderers. It's all clear, Your Highness."

The room is small but cosy, with warm wood-panelled walls, a queen bed covered in a fluffy white duvet, a small loveseat near the window, and a picturesque view of the snow-dusted pine trees outside. Ayame steps in, eyes sweeping the space critically before she announces, "I call the bed."

"Shocking," Chan deadpans, setting his bag on the loveseat. "The couch it is."

Ayame smirks triumphantly, tossing her bag onto the bed. "See, this is why you're a good choice for a sacrifice. You're selfless."

Chan plops onto the loveseat, draping an arm over the backrest as he watches her dig through her bag. "Selfless, or just really good at picking my battles."

She pauses, holding up a sequined toiletry bag, and points it at him. "Semantics. Either way, you're not touching my stuff."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Chan replies, smirking. "Not that I'm dying to rifle through your glittery bag of secrets."

"It's not secrets," Ayame counters, her tone mock serious. "It's skincare. You could use some."

"Ouch," Chan says, placing a hand over his heart. "Why do you always come for my neck?"

"Because you make it too easy," Ayame smirks, disappearing into the bathroom. The sound of the lock clicking makes Chan chuckle.

"Don't use all the hot water," he calls out.

"Don't worry," Ayame's muffled voice replies. "I'll save you some. Maybe."

As the water starts running, Chan leans back on the couch, pulling out his phone. He scrolls aimlessly, his mind drifting back to Ayame's dramatic antics in the hallway. He smiles to himself, shaking his head.

From behind the bathroom door, Ayame's voice rings out. "If you touch my snacks, Chan, I swear to god, I'll be the next axe-wielding maniac!"

Chan snorts, calling back, "You're welcome to try me, shortcake!"

Ayame stands in front of the mirror, meticulously swiping on her second coat of mascara. The emerald-green cocktail dress hugs her figure perfectly, its shimmering fabric catching the golden light of the bedside lamp. She smooths the dress down over her hips, tilting her head to inspect her reflection. Just as she reaches for her red lipstick, the bathroom door swings open, a rush of steam billowing out.

Chan steps into the room with a towel slung low on his hips, droplets of water trailing down his chest and abs. Another towel is draped over his shoulders as he roughly dries his damp curls. Ayame freezes mid-motion, her gaze snapping to him in the mirror.

"Took you long enough," she mutters, turning her attention back to the lipstick.

Chan doesn't miss a beat, smirking as he leans casually against the wall. "Oh, sorry, princess. I was busy exfoliating my soul. Didn't realize we were on a timer."

Ayame rolls her eyes, her lips twitching in amusement despite herself. She uncaps the lipstick and begins carefully applying the deep crimson shade. Chan watches her in the mirror, his expression shifting to something softer as he steps closer.

"Plum cherry?" he asks, his voice low and teasing, a drop of water trailing down his chest.

"I like red," Ayame replies, her tone clipped, though a smile threatens to break through.

"So do I," Chan murmurs, his voice dipping further.

She meets his gaze in the mirror, her heart skipping a beat at the intensity there. Without thinking, she turns on her heels, facing him directly. The tension between them simmers, and then she closes the distance, pressing her lips to his in a bold, sudden kiss. Chan doesn't hesitate, his lips moving against hers with an urgency that sends heat coursing through her.

When she pulls back, her breath comes in short gasps. "This does not mean we're okay," she says, narrowing her eyes, trying to regain some semblance of control.

Chan's smirk is infuriatingly smug. "Noted," he says simply, before leaning in and capturing her lips again. His hands slide down her sides, finding her waist, and he lifts her as if she weighs nothing. Her legs wrap around him instinctively, her heels slipping off her feet and hitting the floor with a dull thud.

Chan carries her toward the bed, his steps steady and deliberate. When he sets her down on the mattress, his towel drops, and Ayame's eyes flick downward before she quickly averts her gaze.

"No wonder you're such a cocky asshole," she mutters, half-laughing despite herself.

Chan raises an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Can I take that as a compliment?"

"Take it however you want," Ayame fires back, her voice breathy.

Chan leans over her, his arms caging her in on either side. He dips his head, his lips brushing against her ear. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"And yet, here you are," she quips, reaching up to tug him closer.

He pauses, his forehead resting against hers as his breath fans her face. "I don't want to crush you."

Ayame giggles softly, her fingers trailing along his jaw. "If I didn't want this, my stiletto would already be in your eye. Now shut up and kiss me."

That earns her a deep chuckle, warm and vibrating through his chest. Chan obliges, his lips finding hers again, this time slower, deeper, filled with something that makes her toes curl. As her hands slide up his back, she tugs her dress over her head, leaving it pooled on the floor beside them.

Chan pulls the blankets over them, his warmth enveloping her completely. The world outside fades away as his hands roam over her, each touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Her laughter turns into soft gasps, his name slipping from her lips like a whispered prayer.

For the first time in what feels like forever, Ayame doesn't think about the job, the competition, or the chaos of their tangled lives. All that matters is this moment—raw, unfiltered, and utterly consuming.

Ayame lies sprawled on the bed, tangled in the blanket, her hair a mess and her chest still rising and falling from exertion. She stares up at the ceiling, blinking at the dim light fixture. Next to her, Chan sits on the floor, his back against the bed frame, the hotel's white bedsheet lazily draped around his waist. His damp hair clings to his forehead, and he absently scratches his chest, looking far too relaxed.

Ayame groans loudly, throwing an arm over her face. "We are super fucking late for the rehearsal dinner."

Chan doesn't even blink, shrugging nonchalantly. "Then we'll skip it."

Ayame peeks out from under her arm, narrowing her eyes. "Yeah, let's just casually no-show the dinner for your brother's wedding. What's your excuse? Oh, sorry, family, we were too busy giving each other multiple orgasms to be bothered."

Chan chuckles, his tone lazy and self-satisfied. "I'll just tell them we got stuck in traffic."

Ayame snorts, rolling onto her side to glare at him. "They're going to know. They'll know we already checked in."

Chan glances at her, his lips twitching into a smirk. "So? What are they going to do? Ground me?"

Ayame groans again, flopping back onto her back. "You're so goddamn infuriating. What will your parents think?"

Chan leans his head back against the bed frame, exhaling softly. "They'll think we're adults making adult choices. My parents aren't the type to clutch their pearls over shit like this."

"Must be nice," Ayame mutters under her breath. "I grew up getting lectures for wearing socks that didn't match."

He tilts his head, watching her thoughtfully. "Why do you care so much what people think?"

"Because I'm a people pleaser," Ayame shoots back, glaring at the ceiling. "If people don't like me, I spiral. My anxiety grabs me by the throat and shakes me like a chew toy. Why don't you care what people think?"

Chan shrugs, stretching his legs out in front of him. "Because I spent years trying to make everyone happy, and you know what I learned? You can't. There's always someone who thinks you're too much of this or not enough of that. So I said fuck it."

Ayame rolls onto her side again, propping herself up on an elbow. "You're so zen. Teach me your ways."

"Step one," Chan says, smirking. "Stop giving a fuck. Step two: repeat step one."

Ayame groans dramatically, rolling onto her stomach. "You're impossible."

Chan leans his head back, looking up at the ceiling. "You're overthinking it. It's not like you'll ever see my parents again."

Ayame's lips twitch into a faint smirk. "Fair point."

For a moment, the room falls quiet except for the sound of their breathing. Chan seems lost in thought, his fingers drumming lightly on the floor. Ayame notices and scoots toward the edge of the bed, leaning over to grab his face between her hands.

She shakes his head lightly, her eyes narrowing playfully. "What's going on in there, huh? I swear to god, I want to juice your brain like a lemon and find out."

Chan bursts into laughter, his hands coming up to cover hers. "Jesus, shortcake. Violent much?"

"You're being broody," she accuses, poking his cheek with one finger. "Spill it."

He grins, pulling her hands away but keeping hold of them. "Okay, fine. What do you want to know?"

Ayame smirks wickedly, leaning in closer. "A few weeks ago, I saw your planner."

His smirk falters slightly. "Questionable ethics, but okay."

"Shut up. I noticed all these little red marks in the margins. D's, P's, S's, X's and little lines. What are those?"

Chan groans loudly, tilting his head back against the bed frame as though asking the universe for patience. "Nope. Not happening."

Ayame gasps, slipping off the bed and plopping onto the floor next to him, still wrapped in the blanket. "No? No?! You can't say no! Tell me, tell me, tell me!"

He sighs, clearly defeated. "Fine," he mutters, glaring at her playfully. "D is for dress, P is for pants, S is for skirt. The little red mark is for when we fight"

She stares at him, wide-eyed. "You track what I'm wearing? What the fuck?"

"It's not that weird!" Chan protests, laughing despite himself. "It's just observational."

"And the X?" Ayame presses, poking his shoulder.

Chan hesitates, his smirk returning, though it's softer now. "X is for when I want to kiss you."

Ayame freezes, her mouth falling open. "You're a loser,"

Chan snorts, running a hand through his still-damp hair. "Your turn."

"My turn for what?" Ayame asks, tilting her head, already suspicious.

"To tell me something I don't know about you," he says, his grin widening like a predator who's already caught the scent of something juicy.

Ayame bites her lip, thinking for a moment before sighing. "Alright, fine. You remember the day I came into work all glammed up?"

Chan nods instantly, his eyes narrowing in curiosity. "Of course. I thought you were trying to impress someone."

"Yeah, about that I lied about having a date at the shisha bar."

Chan's eyebrows shoot up. "You lied?"

"Yes! I panicked," she admits, groaning. "You were being so smug and skeptical about me having a date, and I couldn't take it."

Chan leans in, his grin widening. "So the date with Seonghwa?"

"Well," Ayame starts. "After I lied to you, I went and asked Seonghwa to go with me. I needed to make it real."

"You did what?" Chan exclaims, his laugh bursting out of him. "You dragged Seonghwa into your bullshit?"

"I panicked!" Ayame defends, throwing her hands up. "And... I'd had this super hot sex dream about you."

Chan freezes for half a second, his smirk morphing into something entirely too pleased. "I fucking knew it."

"Shut up!" Ayame groans, swatting at his shoulder, though her embarrassment only deepens when he doesn't stop laughing. "You were being such a smug dick, and I didn't want you to think I was some loser sitting alone at a bar."

"You wouldn't have been alone," Chan says after his laughter dies down, his voice dipping softer. He leans in slightly, his eyes locking with hers. "You would've been with me."

Ayame's breath catches as he brushes a strand of hair away from her face, his fingers lingering against her cheek before he presses a gentle kiss to her temple. 

When Chan pulls back, his grin is still playful, but there's something softer in his gaze now. "I can't believe you dragged poor Seonghwa into your bullshit," he teases. "Using his feelings for you to cover up your lies. Cold."

Ayame groans, burying her face in her hands. "We Levanter people even have a ritual for getting over shit like sex dreams about you Miroh trolls. A whiff of tequila, like smelling salts for the soul, a shot, and sage."

Chan bursts into laughter, his head falling back against the bed frame. "Minho was the first to fold."

"Oh, I know," Ayame replies, lowering her hands. "He spares no details."

"Neither does Jisung," Chan admits, shaking his head. "He told our group chat all about Minho's tongue game. The rimming thing? Burned into my brain forever."

"Oh, my god! Minho wouldn't shut up about Jisung's fancy yuzu lube."

Chan raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching. "Yuzu-flavoured lube?"

"Yep," Ayame says, grinning wickedly. "Apparently, it made Jisung's asshole taste like a fucking cocktail. Minho called it 'Michelin-star ass.'"

Chan snorts so hard he has to cover his face, shaking with laughter. "Jesus Christ, you Levanter people are unhinged."

"Speak for yourself," Ayame teases, nudging his shoulder. "You Miroh trolls are the ones driving us insane."

Chan wipes his face, catching his breath. "We're not that bad."

"You're a menace," Ayame counters, pointing at him.

"For someone who calls me a menace, you sure kissed me first," Chan retorts with a smirk.

"You kissed me back," Ayame fires back, poking his chest. "Hard."

"Touché," Chan mutters, chuckling.

Taglist: @fackeraccount @ot8girlfie @nightmarenyxx @reimaybeidk

@ismelllikechlorine247 @drewsandsebastianswife @my-neurodivergent-world @rhonnie23 @hanji-coffee

@skzleeknowcore

[orphicrose]

The co-host (Alastor x FemReader) IV

< >

Summary: You are Alastors Co host in life, perhaps more. But are separated by a sudden death. When you are finally reunited in the under world, it is up to Alastor to figure out why you don’t remember him.

@cannibalcoyote @kahlan170 @sugxryratz

_______________𖤐

Red hand marks were imprinted on y/n's face from leaning on them all night, body folded up on the lounge chair she must have passed out on last night. Was it all just a bad dream? she wondered. Throughout the night, her fire had died and left embers, muddy footprints sat in front of the metal gate shielding her from them. Confirming that last night, in fact, was not a bad dream. Letters had made a pile in her hallway, falling in from her letter box. Satans "W" stamp in the corner of each one. Today was going to be fun. 

"Fill me in on every sacrifice, mister" Y/N said to the fishy sinner below her, rushing to her office all the while struggling to finish tying her red bow around their neck. 

"We have had very few that are worth while this morning. A Mister Valentino performed a seance an hour ago, wanting money" He adjusted his monocle, trying to read the tiny writing on the paper slipping from fin to fin. "He seems to be a big drug lord, i think humans refer to them as "pimps" these days". 

"Interesting, and very easy. Lets start with that for today" Y/n grabs the file, slamming the door of her office into her assistants face. 

"Again...?" He mumbles under his breath, nose slamming into the hard frame.

After a second of scanning the file, y/n nodded to herself. Now sitting in her spinny chair at her desk. "Okay, first one of the day. Lets get those numbers up for you Boss" She mumbled, tying her hair into a bun to organize herself for business. Purple mist surrounded her, filtering through the furniture and pouring outside the room like a floor filling her office. Mere seconds passed, before her body melted into it and became an atom in the air. Vents in her space inhaled the air, making a vile sucking sound like it had taken a hit of a cigarette. She was gone.

In another world, another country, with blue skies and a full moon. She appeared in another office, similar to hers. Only there was natural light filled to the brim, and a rather ugly satanic star under her. How tacky, she thought. "You know, valentino, you don't need all these props to summon me" Her voice came across rather menacing to the tall man sat at his desk. 

"Satan?!" He half yelled, almost forgetting he basically called her into his office. His accent taking her a little by surprise. 

"Of sorts, i supposed. Don't act so surprised."

"i... i didn't think it would actually work" His gold tooth shined through his smile that had creeped onto his face.

"uh huh, uh huh. You wanted money? Am i correct?" She sounded bored, they were bored. It was the same shit every time. 

"Yes... oh! And a bigger name for myself!" He added

"That all?" he nodded hastily in response to her question. "I assume you know what i need in return?" Again, he nodded to the question, hand already stretched out to receive hers. As soon at they connected, he felt a rush of adrenaline surge through his body, as if the life was being sucked away from him. When his eyes flung open, he only just caught a glimpse of the purple aura she faded into. Back in hell again. Not even 10 minutes later. 

"Thats a start i suppose" She mumbled, back at her desk again. The rest of her day consisted of hundreds of souls being taken from greedy humans. Some of them really freaked y/n out. They weren't all money or power hungry. Some just wanted help to hide a body. Which is a lot worse than you think. 

On the other side of hell, sat the radio demon in his tower. Broadcasting another voice for sinners to hear in their nightmares later that night. His dinner distracting him from thoughts that had been eating at him. Why doesn't she remember him? Didn't she ever care? He didn't look vastly different than he did when he was alive... other than the red hair, and antlers, and red eyes, and hooves.... and deer ears. But other than that, he was the same. 

"Stop it! Al!" Y/n hit him playfully as he kissed her cheek. "We are live any second!" She stifled a giggle as the ticker counted down. He smiles at her warm expressions, struggling to look away. They had a 'thing' for a while. Never really giving it a label. They wanted to, but there was so much going on they never had the time to prioritize a relationship. Oh how he regrets it now. 

The broadcast aired, mainly giving updates on the weather and the uprising war in Europe. Trying their best to offer some comedic relief to the distressed citizens, and telling them "Not to worry! Things get worse before they get better folks, look at me!" Alastor bellowed down the line, chuckles following behind him. The broadcasts always ended with a small, catchy jingle to sign them off. 

"You think things will get better soon?" Y/n questioned as the red light indicated they are done for the day. A moment of silent speaks for Alastor's thoughts, waiting for the right words to pop into his head. "The depression can't last forever, dear. Besides, as long as we are with the right people, nothing can go wrong" His hand ended up holding hers without a second thought, a soft expression washing over his face whilst their eyes connected in a shared feeling. "Thank you" She says.

She cared. She really did. Something must have happened to her down here. He refused to believe nothing could be done. Perhaps he just needed to make her fall in love all over again. 

"Good afternoon, sacrificial demon" He appeared from the floor next to her, resulting in her body jolting back and almost having an outer body experience. 

"Don't call me that" A scowl was thrown at him, clutching at her coat harder as the temperature for the day started its nightly decline. "What do you want now? Didn't already find someone for lunch?" She began walking again.

"Actually, i had quite a pleasant lunch" He responded cheerfully, she knows. She heard the broadcast. "No, I'm here to make amends"

She stops in front of him in the middle of the almost deserted street. Sinners giving them space when the sight of them makes their knees want to give out. "What is your game?" she throws an accusing finger at him. "You are either playing a long game with your future prey, or you have another goal in mind. So what is it? I'm sick of playing guess who with you. What do you want with me?" Her voice escalates to frustration.

"To get to know you, dear"

"What makes me any different from the other overlords you've made your midnight snack? Hm?" She cuts him off, her face getting closer to his in attempts to read him. The usual smile not daring to flinch from its position made it hard to. His static fell silent for a millisecond before his sharp teeth moved to speak. "You remind me of someone I used to care for" A softer voice scared her, almost genuine she felt. A uncanny sense of familiarity washed over her like a kiss wakening her from imminent slumber. "If i wanted to kill you i-"

"Already would have. I know, I know." She cuts him off again, looking at the floor in thought. "How do i know i can trust you enough to allow myself not to kill you?" Her eyes find his and his heart hits the floor.

"I suppose you don't know. But it doesn't seem like you have much to lose" She did have a lot to lose, but she couldn't care less about the empire she had been forced to take. A second was taken to think this through. It would be nice to have another friend. Or another purpose other than sinful business. 

"Do you like tea?" She began walking again, not waiting long for him to jog a little to catch up with her walking speed.

"Actually, i like coffee. No milk or sugar"

"Hail lucifer, you really are a sociopath aren't you?" Their voices faded down the the streets, his chuckle echoing behind them. Maybe he did have a chance. 

[lineffability]

"Angel! Angel, look!"

"I am looking. What is it?"

"That's my Bentley!'

"I didn't peg you as the type to name your car, Crowley."

"No, it's.... Angel, that's the brand. It's called a Bentley. All of them are. This is a '33 version! Isn't it cool?"

"Yes, my dear boy. Very cool. I notice it has no license plate. Or oil. Or gas in the tank."

"Why should it?"

"You're right, I suppose."

"It's not like I get anything for pumping in some gas, do I? Little gold star for pretending to be human?"

"I get the point, Crowley. But surely... you acquired some kind of license to drive this big thing?"

"A what now."

"Of course. Of course you wouldn't. Demon."

"Why would I get a license, angel?! For what? No one has a license. It's easy! Also, I can drive this baby with sheer willpower, if I have to."

"Certainly. Well, one of us will have to..."

"Have to what?"

"Oh, nothing."

(aziraphale proceeds to go to the nearest transportation authority and convinces the first poor clerk he encounters to please give him a license that has not been invented yet - he insists. the poor guy just scribbles something on a piece of paper and stamps it, anything to get rid of this overly rule-abiding citizen. aziraphale holds onto it for decades. had anyone stopped him on his trip to Edinburgh, it would have worked as intended. nobody stopped him, of course. he obeyed all the traffic rules, even the non-existent ones.)

(the 'license' reads, as dictated, with a little miraculous help, by aziraphale: This license enables A. Z. Fell to drive the vehicle called Bentley, property of Mr. Crowley. It also enables the latter to drive it. Joint license, if you will. Oh, but only for business purposes! Note that down, too, please. Underline business. Thank you. Lovely. You can stop copying me, now. Also, forget this ever hap--- )

[spotaus]

New Age AU (Bad Dreams)

Woah!! Bet you guys weren't expecting this one!!! (<- no but fr Idk if this one was even a drabble I mentioned wanting to do to anyone besides Ancha lmao-)

Regardless, here's a drabble that takes place a few months after Dream's exile!

(Hello @ancha-aus @papiliovolens and @mutzelputz !!!)

It was quiet.

So dreadfully quiet.

The stone walls felt suffocating, and the darkness was too overwhelming. Even the light of his own magic wasn't enough to ward off the sickly feeling crawling up his spine and over his shoulders.

Roaving like clammy hands, clinging to his bones and threatening to drag him away.

He couldn't take this anymore.

It took effort, one hand over the other, eyes on the rest of the room he'd been placed in for now. One bed instead of two. His legs felt like jelly as he tugged them over the edge.

His feet landed in his sandals not a moment later, and he shoved away from the soft mattress which felt nothing like his own.

Hid eyelights lingered on the bottom of the frame. The shadow there, not reached by the little orb of emotion which hovered beside him, providing light to the barren room.

Perhaps, he feared something would crawl out of those shadows. Tendrils. Pointed and waving. Grasping. Creeping along the floor.

He took a shaking breath.

Another.

He had to at least be able to breathe.

Dream's legs carried him unceremoniously to one of the chairs located in the room where he'd abandoned his cloak.

It was too big on him, the gold and yellow meant for the form the prophecy would have provided him with. He'd taken it with him anyways.

He tugged it over his shoulders, abd the heavy weight smothered him. In a way, it warded off that chill. Just enough to give him the courage to hurry to the door and slip outside.

The hall felt colder than the room.

And almost quieter.

It was nothing like home. With servants and guards bustling about at all hours. With the gentle hum of his mother's magic pulsing through the walls. With his brother's-

No.

He couldn't think about that now.

He padded along through the empty halls. He still shook, but the longer he was in motion the more momentum he gained.

Dream moved swiftly through these unfamiliar and unfriendly halls, until he arrived at a familiar door.

A servant entrance, which he had only noticed because he'd heard horses somewhere beyond as it briefly opened during his first tour. He hated to use it, but he knew guards would be at the main exits.

So, carefully, he entered the space which held it.

A kitchen, of sorts. Piled high with the dishes yet to be cleaned, and with food stores which would last an army a century, tucked away into every shelf.

A part of him wondered what they even did with so much hidden away, but to be honest, he didn't care enough.

He pushed through the door with little effort, and felt a sense of relief rush over him as his sandals landed in damp, earthy grass.

A glance down revealed it had been stamped over hundreds of times by weary servants, so it was flat and lame, but he didn't let that bother him much. He was outside again.

Dream had been feeling suffocated in that stupid building. Out here it felt like that horrid shadow, haunting him, knew not to tread too closely in his wake.

The wind tugged at his overly-large cloak as he stood there a moment. The door swung shut behind him.

The sky, the stars, he felt like he was saying hello to an old friend met in a distant place.

Only a moment later he shook his skull free of his momentary relief. He had to keep moving. Had to do this now.

His eyelights skimmed the dark, and he extinguished his orb. The moon was more than bright enough to illuminate the place he was searching for.

The stables.

As he traversed the open lawn, he noticed. It too was different from the one he knew so well. It was smaller, and had closed outer walls. The doors were huge, and seemed to swing out like any other door. It would not slide like his own used to.

As he reached the entrance, he gently tugged it open. It gave way easily, and he slipped in, expecting to be plunged into the darkness of yet another enclosed building.

Yet... inside it seemed only a bit more shadowed.

The stalls were largely swathed in darkness, but a thin strip of light illuminated the alley between each part of the stalls. There was a skylight above, open air, that was letting the moonlight filter down.

The way it fell, it might's been just past midnight.

Dream moved forward, carefully and quietly. He didn't want to startle the horses. Most of them seemed to be resting just like the rest of the castle. Last thing he needed was to startle one of them.

While he needed to find one awake to keep going, maybe it was better that he not find one. Maybe...

Nope.

Fate must adore him.

There, a few stalls ahead, a movement. Through the space, a horse's head suspended from its thick neck extended majestically into the moonlight nearing its stall.

It seemed to shift, to get a look at him, before settling.

Dream was gentle in his approach, but fast. His hands were shaking now as he approached the horse.

A beautiful, clean white. Little freckles of blond dotting its muzzle and forehead. It was gorgeous.

It stayed still as Dream came close and reached out his hands. They trembled, and he wished he'd worn his gloved. He hated to see his bare bones in the moonlight.

The horse softly nuzzle its nose into his hand.

And sneezed.

Dream squeaked in surprise, recoiling away a bit. He tried to stay calm, if only to keep the horse from panicking, but it just snorted as it stared at him.

Of course he'd get horse-snot on his bare hands, and-

"Excuse you, miss." Came a playful, full voice.

Dream, this time, was less calm.

Why was there a voice? Who was down here?

His emotions must've broadcasted. As he stepped backwards into the moonbeam, the mare whinnied and realed back nervously, and there was a hum of surprise from within the stall.

Frozen in place, he watched as a faint movement, aside from the large shadow of the horse, rose from inside the stall.

Glowing.

Eyes turned to him. Eyelights, like his, a wide and curious sky blue.

And then they drew closer, and where the mare once extended her neck to him, now stood a monster he starkly recognized.

"Oh, Prince Dream?" It was Blue, the squire of the knight who'd been assigned to watch over Dream, "What a surprise! I wasn't expecting to find anyone else up so late, is there anything I can do to assist you?"

Blue was smiling. Dream could taste it. His confusion, which was quickly overtaken by a general joy.

The skeleton wasn't dressed down at all, despite presumably having been knelt in a horse's pen for some reason. His squires armor, largely padded and cloth, hung well on his frame, and part of Dream wished he could see more that just the Knight's arms and shoulders peeking over the stall door along with his skull.

"I- I wasn't expecting anyone to be up tonight either." He replied, dumbly, "I was- was just taking a stroll. Couldn't sleep."

It was a weak excuse. An excuse literally anyone could see through-

"Ah, I see!" Blue's voice cut off his thoughts before they could run away, "You know, you should really try the tea that my master drinks before bed. It always knocks him out, cold turkey!"

Dream was... bewildered.

Blue turned away from him for a moment, disappearing into the shadows of the stall, but his voice did not hesitate.

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind sparing a bit for you, Prince Dream! After all, it's our job as knights and knights-to-be to care for our benefactors!"

Dream could hear a bit of movement behind his words, and a few moments later Blue returned to the front of the stall. He used one arm to support himself as he hopped over the small gate, the mare trailing in his wake to watch once again.

He seemed entirely unphased, carrying tools in his other hand, moving to a hanging leather bag hung on a nail in one of the support beams and dumping the items inside.

"If you like, I could escort you back inside and make you a cup?"

Blue was still speaking, with little hesitation.

Dream felt like the squires voice was rattling around in his skull. An overwhelming amount of sound for the quiet he'd just arrived from, and quite different from the sounds he'd been searching for.

Like the chirping of bugs, the sounds of rustling leaves, the pounding of a horse's hooves heavy on the ground as he made his daring escape from this place he did not know.

"Ah, Prince! It seems Marigold managed to get you a bit dirty, I apologize on her behalf!" Blue was a lot closer. "Please, allow me!"

A lot closer.

Dream flinched as he felt soft, worn gloves cup his palms from underneath.

His focus had been far off, elsewhere, but now he watched as the skeleton a bit shorter than him gently used a clean rag he must've grabbed to towel away the remnants of the horse's gunk left on his hands.

Blue was entirely focused on his task, and Dream felt entranced by the action. It felt like his non-existant gut was attempting to mimic a writhing snake.

When Blue finally seemed content, he hummed and grinned to himself.

Even through is thick gloves, Dream had been close enough. To taste it. There was not a single hint of malice lingering in this squires soul. He was so sweet. Unbearably so. He'd barely met any souls with such a pure slate of emotions laid bare.

"P-prince Dream?! Are you alright? I'm- I'm so sorry, did I grab your hands too hard?" Blue's voice once again dragged him back to reality.

A tinge of fear in the air, and the cold rapidly claiming his hands once again.

He looked away from his hands, now abandoned by the squire who'd been keeping them warm. He had backed up by a few paces, and had his head bowed, but Dream could still see his skull was tilted. An eyelight observing him.

Guilt.

Why...

Dream all at once pulled his hands up to his cheekbones. His freezing fingertips gently rimmed the bottom edge of his sockets, and all at once he understood.

He'd started crying. Like a weakling.

He knew this feeling all too well. The tears which used to come to him when Nightmare would be sent back to his own bed by their mother. When she found Night comforting him after a night terror. His aura was always so calming.

He hadn't had Night at all, lately. Maybe that was why he hadn't shed tears yet. Until tonight, of course.

"No- no. It's nothing you did." Dream hurried to say, though he hated his voice for warbling.

He tucked his hands tightly into his cloak, and took a single shaking breath.

And then stepped to the side, and sunk down against the stall gate of the mare named Marigold.

She didn't startle as the wood shifted under Dream's weight, and settled again against the tick hay coating the bottom of the stall.

In this moment, Dream didn't care how bad it smelled, or how dirty he was getting his perfect coronation cloak, or anything. He didn't care that his perfect white bones were digging into old, splintered wood, or that his cheekbones pressed to damp planks.

He didn't care about the squire who saw.

Dream knew he couldn't risk going back to the castle, sockets full of tears. Not like this. So he'd have to fry it out here and risk the squires rumor mill in the morning.

He sniffled as he let the cold sink into the thin silk cloth which covered his legs, closing his sockets miserably in the darkness.

He heard boot-steps, and sunk a bit lower into himself as they drew softly nearer.

Though, they stopped a short distance away, and the weight of the gate shifted again, as sonething denser leaned against it.

Marigold snorted in what Dream imagined was annoyance, and he heard her hooves disappear somewhere deeper into shadow.

.

It was silent as Dream let his tears flow. Shoulder dug into his cheek, folded in on himself like a sort of ragdoll. Sniffles were the only thing which broke that awkward quiet.

But this silence too, was deeply uncomfortable. It was as though his moments of peace were little more than ploys to administer more distress into his mind.

The moment he could no longer stand his self-imposed quiet, he shifted.

And squinted in the darkness.

And found that, just before him, was the side of that squire.

There, back pressed to the stall door, sat Blue. He wasn't looking at Dream. The prince noticed that in one hand he held hid signature weapon, that comically large Warhammer. His eyes seemed focused, skimming the stalls. Watching over Dream's form to the doors far from where he'd turned his back.

Was... was the squire watching over him?

Normally when he threw a tantrum like this, his sorrow would seep into the air around him. He was able to drive off all the servants and soldiers. Very few would linger. Struck by an intense misery.

"Squire Blue?" Dream's voice felt hoarse and wet, remnants of the emotion that had built up inside him.

The young man's eyelights darted to the side, to look at Dream as he was called.

This time he remained silent, his expression still focused.

Dream knew this was stupid, he- "Why did you stick around?" He asked. "It's your master's duty to babysit me, not yours."

It was true. Only the Knight had orders to watch over him. And Dream knew he didn't much like the job.

For that man, there was no honor in trailing a young monster like Dream. Even if he was the son of Nim, Dream was no longer a crown prince. He was exiled. An outcast.

The question seemed to linger in the air a moment, before Blue's browser furrowed.

"Well, I believe you are sad, and it must be a type of sadness which is very hard to fight away, as you are very strong." He spoke, though the chipper tone was something softer now. Encouraging? "So as you fought your battle, I wished to stay by your side and dissuade any enemies from the outside. I could not abandon you."

He said it as though Dream was really fighting something. Inside himself.

That wasn't it at all. He'd been running away from that thing biting at him. Clawing at his heels and clogging his throat. That made him want to run away and never come back.

"I-" Was he really going to do this? "I had a bad dream, Squire Blue."

He felt like a child, confessing to his nanny that he had broken a vase in the hall.

"My brother used to comfort me, from these terrors. But- but I cannot see him anymore. He-" He choked up again, "People are saying he was jealous of me, when he took the crown, but he wasn't. He was afraid. And he cast me out and exiled me to this place!"

If he weren't so focused on trying to contain his voice, he would've been impressed at how unmoving Blue's face remained, amongst the swarm of emotions breaking through Dream's thinly-kept barrier.

"He was afraid, and I am alone, and this I'd not how it should be! Someone, something, scared him into acting out and sending me away and- and here I am. Crying in a stable like a child due to a bad dream, hundreds of miles away from my twin!"

He threatened to curl in on himself again, but he stopped himself when he saw the way that Blue looked at him. Knowingly.

"You know, it is not nearly the same, but I too am separated from my brother." Blue spoke up. Though, he was smiling?

Dream hummed in confusion, tired from his confession.

"He's younger than me, stayed in our home village as part of the city guard. He's the coolest..." He sounded almost wistful, "When I chose to start my apprenticeship I was told I would have to move away, and live here." He lamented.

Dream hated to taste the bittersweet tang of melancholy wafting softly away from Blue.

"Don't... don't you miss him?" Dream muttered, "Don't you want to run away and be with him again?" That was what Dream would do.

Blue laughed gently, a charming little 'Mweh!' That warmed Dream's soul.

"Of course!" He admitted, "But, my brother was my biggest supporter, and if I don't become a knight, then my time away will have been for nothing."

A brother giving unwavering support. Like Nighty.

"It sounds like you treasure your brother, Prince Dream," Blue said, then, "Might I ask about what you think of him?"

Oh.

That's right.

Since he left, he'd only been piling negative atop negative about his brother, making an impossibly long list in his head.

"My brother..." Dream breathed, almost a whisper. "He was-" He stopped, "is the most devoted, kindest, gentlest soul I've ever known."

He couldn't help but think of when they were children. When they had first gotten their masks, and Nightmare had recieved the smooth, rounded owl face. He'd looked so adorable and kind, lavender eyelights wide with joy.

Dream remembered seeing the grin on his twin's face when he'd let Dream press the cold wood to his own face. No doubt it had been cuter on Nightmare.

"He's so smart... he loves reading, and his studies, and always knew how to help me when I'd make trouble in the castle."

The days when Dream was seven or eight, tripping around the halls at night, wet paint on his new shirt because he'd tripped and nudged a new mural his mother had commissioned. It had been wet.

Nightmare had found him and dragged him back to their room, where he'd pulled the shirt off of Dream and immediately set about cleaning it.

He said he'd watched their babysitter do it a hundred times and he'd learned. Dream had claimed the work was beneath them, but Nighty had shot back, asking if he'd rather be caught with stained clothes by the adults. That was the last thing he'd wanted, so he'd sat and watched Night scrub away at the stain in the tub with a few bottles of who knows what and water until it was practically brand-new. By morning it was dry, as though nothing had ever happened.

"And- and he always knew when I was sad. He'd come sit with me, and we'd hug and- and nothing came between us."

Until that day, of course.

That day when Dream was practicing his speech and Nightmare had rushed into the lounge to stand before him. Nightmare's skull had been sweaty, his eyelights pinpricks. He had a scroll clutched to his chest, and a hunch to his shoulders. He'd been afraid. Dream had tasted it like a sour lemon on his tongue, and had gone on high alert.

Only for Nightmare to start babbling to him. Stammering about the prophecy and a curse and some sort of discovery. A warning.

All that Dream had caught after asking him to slow down, was that Nightmare was begging him not to go through with his coronation ceremony. That he'd found a dire omen in the library about some sort of bloodshed. Some horrible price to pay.

Dream had tried to reassure him. That it was just a mean prank, that he and everyone else would be fine. Perfectly safe.

Nightmare had left the room dejected, practically in tears, and had rushed off. If Dream had known better, he would've gone and hammered it into his twin's skull that the prophecy was safe. That he didn't have to taint his own body to protect Dream from some make-believe threat.

Dream sighed a bit, and raised one hand to his face. He rubbed his palm along his sockets, swiping away magical residue from his tears.

He wasn't any less sad, but it felt less explosive.

"Your twin sounds very nice, Prince Dream. I do understand why you would like to see him again." Blue spoke softly.

His smile was boisterous again, and Dream couldn't help himself from allowing a gentle smile to worm onto his own expression.

"I cannot let you leave, that would not allow me to protect you, but if you wish to talk again, I am often an open ear!" He suggested, "You seem less sad after talking."

Hmm.

This might have been the first time in the history of his life, he realized, that he had someone his age really speak with him.

Blue was different from the noble children and the new guards and servants back home. It was something kind. Perhaps it was that he didn't truly understand just who Dream was. Who he was meant to be.

Maybe- maybe he'd like to keep it that way a bit longer.

"Trying to flee on horseback was a silly idea anyhow." He mused, "Would you be bothered if I still took your offer? For tea, that is?"

The joy that flooded through Blue was almost contagious, and he quickly popped up from where he'd been seated, letting his hammer shimmer away into the air beside him.

Then he turned to dream, and extended a gloved hand to him.

Dream took it after a moment, and he was swiftly tugged to his feet too, shaky as a newborn foal. Cold and damp and smelly.

But Blue didn't seem to notice, nor was he bothered. Not by the dirt that coated Dream's cloak or the smear of mud which had gotten onto his skull.

Blue escorted him back out to the grounds, and Dream saw my the moon that he'd hardly spent an hour in that stable. It was still plenty dark.

As the squire began to move towards the main path, Dream tugged his armor and guided him instead to the little servant door, and Drean was rewarded for his sneaky tactics with another 'Mweh!' of excitement.

Blue held the door, and Dream hurried into the kitchen. Then from there, Blue led them through servant corridors that Dream had never known existed. Blue was careful to check over his shoulder every few steps. Maybe he was worried about losing Dream in the twists and turns?

And then, as though hitting a brick wall, they found themselves in the private barracks of the knights of this realm. For a moment, Dream worried Blue might have to enter his master's room to snatched the tea, but...

There was a little alcove outside of one of the doors, carved into the wall.

'Personal effects' Blue had explained quietly, kept in the hall so servants might have easy access to each Knight's favorite drink or treat.

Dream watched curiously as the knight moved towards the space, and carefully extracted a few leaves from a little jar left outside.

"Will that be enough for two?" Dream muttered, perplexed. It seemed hardly enough for a mouse!

Blue glanced back to Dream in confusion, and the Prince realized he'd jumped the gun. Blue hadn't planned to have any tea, only brew it for Dream.

That... felt odd.

"Mm. Have you ever tried his tea, squire Blue?" He asked quietly instead.

Blue shook his head a bit, "No, I've never had the chance." He didn't seem bothered.

Dream only nodded, and the two hurried away. Out of the knight's wing, back through the servant halls, and into the kitchen where Dream had snuck out through the little door.

There, Blue closed the door to the hall, and after a moment, seemed content to begin moving all sorts of pots and pans to find a kettle.

Dream hadn't ever lingered in a kitchen very long. His babysitter only brought them inside once or twice, always upon Nightmare's request. The kitchen here was much smaller than his own, and was infinitely more cluttered. The organization, or lack there-of, made his hands itch.

It only took a few moments before he lifted himself up to sit atop one if the counters, away from where Blue seemed to be preparing the tea.

He moved with practice around this spot, it'd taken hardly any time at all for him to dig out the worn kettle, and it'd been tucked behind little bottles and containers of who knows what.

He seemed to work the stove just fine as well, the little flames dancing along with the little light their magic provoded to them.

Only when the kettle was set did Blue seem to glance around and spot Dream once again.

He moved a bit closer, leaning against the counter a bit.

"Prince Dream, may I ask a question?" He voiced.

Dream nodded curiously.

"Do you ever do sparring?" Blue asked, then.

That was... not what Dream had expected to be asked of him. He'd had people ask him many things, but never of that.

"I... used to." He said softly.

It was ever so slight, a raise in Blue's shoulders, some sort of little happiness sparking through him.

"I've seen you, stopping by when the knights train! What weapons do you use?" Blue asked then.

Dream suddenly had to find himself smothering the flush which threatened to flood his cheekbones. Yes, he did miss sparring, but often when he was frustrated he would pass by. To get a glimpse at the Knights in their armor, so swift and powerful.

"A bow." He said, maybe a bit too hastily. "I mean... I was formally trained in swordplay, staffs, and spears, but Archery has always come easiest to me."

He was so absorbed in his thought that he almost missed the way Blue's eyelights grew bigger. Almost.

Dream allowed a smirk to cross his face, and he held his hands out before him.

His little, pearly white, hands trembled. The joints glowed a soft golden color, and it all drew out, to his fingertips. After a moment, the glow condensed, and swirled, and tightly wove into a longbow.

The bow itself was a pale white, but much like his castle, it appeared to be made of old, twisting vines and branches.

"Where is the string?" Blue's curious tone asked, and Dream was only a bit startled to find the squire so close to him now, examining the weapon.

"It's only tangible in use with my magic." Dream explained softly.

Running a hand along the space, his finger caught, and a ripple of yellow glow moved down a thick, invisible string.

Impulsively, Dream imagined, Blue stuck his gloved hand right into the space beneath where Dream had just touched. There was nothing for him to grasp.

"Wowie... that's an impressive weapon, Prince Dream! You are very skilled, that must've taken ages to craft!" Blue said, pulling his hand back as though nothing had happened.

Dream stared at it a moment, but caught himself before claiming it was an easy feat.

He'd made the bow itself no problem, but the string... they could never withhold the power of his magic. They would snap and send him reeling.

Once, a broken string had swung back and cracked against his chin. He'd bled, and all of the guard had panicked about his wellbeing. He'd been young still, and had been so startled he thought they were yelling at him. Not about him.

After that, mother had insisted he learn to channel his magic precisely. Learn to use it with an easy perfection.

"Yes, it took me some time to perfect." Dream agreed solemnly.

It seemed Blue was going to say something else, but there was a loud whistle from the stove, and the squire jolted and hurried back to tend to it.

Dream watched from afar, letting his bow disappear once more, as Blue seemed to ready a singular teacup.

Once it was finished, he carried both it, and the saucer, very carefully over to Dream's countertop perch. He offered it up to the prince, with a gentle warning of, 'hot'.

Dream took it carefully, and held it under his face. The warmth rising from it was comforting, and the smell was nice. Unfamiliar. And for once he enjoyed it.

Dream blew on the surface of the tea, making it ripple like some dark ocean, before he impatiently brought it to hid mouth.

It was hot, as Blue had warned, but not scalding. He held it in his jaw for a moment, lingering on the taste, before swallowing it down.

He took another sip. Then hummed.

"Squire Blue, will you take a sip of this? Tell me what you think?" He then offered the cup to Blue.

The squire seemed startled, but only for a moment before nodding in determination. He gently took the teacup from Dream, and tipped it so he too could take a sip.

Dream watched his face, and aa the heat subsided, Blue's expression scrunched. He seemed like he was trying to decide whether to spit it out or drink it.

The prince couldn't contain his laughter as it seemed Blue resigned himself to swallowing it. He held the cup back out to Dream in some sort of defeat.

"It's gross, isn't it?" Dream asked through his little fit of giggles. He cupped the tea back into his own hand, and watched as Blue seemed to try and outlast the awful taste surely lingering in his mouth.

"Y-yes, it is! I have never tasted something like that before, I apologize, Prince Dream." He said almost despairing.

Dream just shook his head, "No fault of yours! This appears to be some sort of black tea. Magical, probably." Dream explained, almost fond of the horrible cup of tea.

This was probably the first time he'd found such a thing funny.

If anything, his obvious joy at the situation seemed to let Blue relax a bit again.

Both of them had now experienced the horribly bitter taste of a Knight's favorite coffee, and now they were both complicit in deciding that it was nasty.

Dream let himself giggle again, and brought the cup back up to his mouth.

Almost like a shot, Dream downed the remainder of the liquid. Though it made him shudder a bit under its bitter flavor, the warmth did well to bring a heat to his ribs he hadn't had all night.

When he set the cup and saucer beside himself, he found Blue staring at him, as though he had something on his face.

(He did, it was mud, but Blue was not looking at it.)

"Prince, if it tastes bad, why would you finish it?" Blue asked in confusion.

Dream just shrugged a bit, "I think of the tea as a gift. Even if I do not enjoy it, it means something special to someone else, so it would be rude to waste it." He said simply.

Blue seemed to linger on that for a moment, before seeming to double-down on his concentrated expression. Then, all at once, he grinned.

"I know that you are a Prince, but I think that you would also make a very noble knight!" Blue asserted, before he scooped up the cup and set it aside on the counter.

He seemed to debate the sink, before noticing the piles of other dishes and simply sighed softly.

Dream popped away from the counter, landing on his feet with a tired yawn. His hand raised to cover the action, but Blue caught sight of it and burst into action, moving to Dream's side at an alarming efficiency.

"Prince Dream, if you are tired, then allow me to escort you back to your room!" He insisted.

Dream couldn't help but agree.

As they walked, a part of him wished that he could beg Blue to talk with him until the sunrise, and then stay up all over again the next night. He hadn't felt so comfortable in ages.

But, they had their places.

When the sun rose, Dream would have to be a proper prince again. Take a bath, send his robes to be cleaned, speak with the nobles here, try drafting another letter back home, and rot in the foreign place.

And Blue would have to go back to toting around that knight's swords and armor polish and make him that sickeningly bitter tea on command.

Dream wondered if Blue was even getting any real training, or if he was a glorified servant. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen the young man use his war hammer during training.

Though, all of these thoughts would have to wait.

The bland door to his room arrived, and Blue bowed and bid him farewell.

Dream entered the dark space for the second time that night, slipped off his sandals, and collapsed cloak and all onto his bed. Too exhausted to be afraid of dancing shadows.

[lambsouvlaki]

Happy holidays! Can we get some Jay Andy and Sophie Christmas fluff pleaswe? Maybe all of them doing a family date at a Christmas tree farm or decorating their tree? I love your dad fics on such a personal level hehe

Thanks!

Thanks for the fun request, anon! I really enjoyed this one, I hope you like it.

---

Andy strolled back into the living room, sweeping up one of Sophie’s plush toys from the ground on her way to Jason, who was standing in front of the Christmas tree with his hands on his hips. He was in fluffy socks, cargo pants, and a hideous festive sweater. He assessed the magnificent tree like a worthy foe. 

Andy was more interested in the plush. It was a gangly elf in a green jerkin and pixie boots, red hat, and a little yellow belt and collar. Sophie had clumsily scribbled a domino mask over the eyes in marker.

“What was it like working for Santa?” Andy asked seriously. 

“Hm?”

She showed him the toy. 

Jason cackled. 

“For Christmas, little Jimmy, you get Justice,” he said in his best Dark Knight rumble.

“Holy milk and cookies, Batman!”

“Damian will hate that so much, remind me to take a photo later,” he said, then turned back to the tree.

She watched him detangle one of the tinsel ropes and rearrange it to his standards. He was taking this very seriously. 

Christmas back when they were just dating was never this big an affair. That first year she placed his present on the kitchen bench beneath a single pine cone. He got her a better antivirus for her laptop. Neither thought anything of it. 

But they weren’t just going out now. Not just two friends who fell in love, two dorks who hid their faces in each other’s shoulders on bad days, and giggled themselves to sleep over stupid jokes. He wasn’t just the guy who got her pregnant, either. 

She watched Jason pout over the exact placement of a bauble. 

That was her family now. 

Weird. 

She put elf robin down and slowly attached herself to his side. He put his arm around her shoulders, holding her in place, while still focusing on the tree. 

It was a real beauty.

She couldn’t get the time off work to go down to the farm to pick it, so Jason and Sophie went alone. The two-year-old only kind of knew what was going on but was very excited to be going on an important mission with her current favourite person. 

Andy pretended she wasn’t disappointed at missing out. She didn’t even know why she cared, the idea had never been very interesting before.

They brought back a massive douglas fir that made the most of the apartment’s high ceilings. She was gobsmacked at the size and laughed at the sight of Jason in a Santa hat hauling it out of the freight elevator. Sophie cheered and stamped her feet with excitement. Decorating it took half the day and Sophie drifted off to sleep on his shoulder halfway through. 

Jason started undoing the tinsel again. 

“What’s going on, babe?” Andy asked. 

“Not enough gold on this side,” he replied. “And that line of red baubles is too uniform. And there’s not enough tinsel.”

She looked around. There was tinsel everywhere. They were going to be vacuuming up sparkly bits well into January. 

“And the star’s too small,” he muttered. 

“Jay.”

“Hm?”

“Why are you obsessing over Christmas decorations?”

He blinked. “I am not.”

“I’ve seen you defuse bombs with less focus.” 

He huffed a breath. “It’s my first Christmas home with you two. I want it to be special. Sophie deserves–” He ducked his head. “She deserves a good dad.”

Andy leaned her head against his shoulder. “And a good mom.”

He scoffed. “Which she has.”

“I burned the gingerbread men. You’re making me look bad.”

He scoffed again, looking away now. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess I’m being silly, huh?” he said. 

She frowned and wished she hadn’t joked. She hadn’t realised how important it was to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist.

“You know,” she said, haltingly, “I don’t really… have any good memories of family Christmases.” 

He looked down at her, his brow lowered. “Oh.” 

It was her turn to look away. “I’m enjoying making these ones with you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He wrapped his arms around her. She rested her face on his chest. He put his chin on top of her head. 

“You’re doing great, Jay. I don’t think Soph’s ever been this excited before.”

He let out a gusty breath, and his shoulders relaxed. “Thanks, baby. I just… I want to do right by you. Both of you.”

“I know.”

He kissed her forehead. 

“Where is the little nugget, anyway?” she asked. 

He lifted a branch with his foot.

A toddler wrapped in tinsel squealed and retreated further beneath the tree. 

Next>>

[azacat-alias-lost]

IRRATIONAL BLUE

PROLOGUE - That Moment Before It Began

“Why do I need to do that?”

My therapist sighed and pushed a packet of papers over to me. “Because, Logan. You have some serious issues with how you express emotion.”

I furrowed my eyebrows and picked up the papers, hesitating to flip through them. “I don’t think that’s exactly true. I’m very good at keeping calm, actually.”

“That’s the problem. Your issue isn’t with expressing too much emotion, it’s that you don’t express it at all.” He pointed to the packet in my hands. “Flip to page three, if you would.”

I was so confused. No emotion? None at all?! I mean, sure, I had a habit of dismissing things sometimes, but none? I took a breath and opened the packet.

He gestured to the chart on the page. “These were questions we had you answer. Analyzing your responses, it seems like you tend to bottle your emotions up. It’s my job to help you work through them.” He leaned back in his chair. “Do you have anything you’d like to talk about right now?”

I looked down at the packet. Questions like “What do you do when someone makes you angry?” and “How often do you confront people who have wronged you?” were laid out on the page. Thinking about it, maybe he was right. Maybe I did have issues expressing things.

Even so, I didn’t exactly have anything to share on the spot. Nothing came to mind regarding any recent issues, and my past wasn’t something I was ready to talk about. I shook my head.

Dr. Picani paused for a moment, then nodded. “Alright.” He leaned down and pulled out a card. “This will get you a big discount at the shop on the card. Get a journal there. They have really nice ones.”

I took the card, which had the name of a shop down the street from my apartment. Convenient.

“Seriously, Logan. This is going to help you. And you don’t have to share your journal with anyone. You only have to share if you feel like it.”

I nodded and slipped the card into my pocket. “Thank you. I’ll go look at that shop.”

After a moment of silence, he stood from his desk. “I think that’s all the time we have for today. Make sure to grab your coat. It’s chilly.”

Just a minute or two later, I was walking down the street outside the office, trying to hail a taxi. The air was brisk, and the wind blew the brown leaves around on the sidewalk in a little dance. It made me smile a little bit.

One taxi ride later and I was down at the notebook shop, looking through all of the handcrafted journals.

My eyes settled on a thick leather journal. The leather had been hand painted with gold and blue stars in the shape of some well-known constellations. Fitting, considering my job. I took it up to the counter, where a short, round woman was restocking a pen case by the check-out. “Hello. I was given a coupon for a notebook.”

“Ah, let me guess. Journal voucher from a counselor? A lot of offices buy those from us.” She took the notebook and card. “Funny, this is actually the only one of these we have left for sale. You wanna pay ten extra bucks to get your name stamped on it?”

“Sure, that sounds like a good idea.”

She smiled and pulled out a bin of gold letter stamps. “What’s your name, honey?”

“It’s Logan.”

“Logan. What a nice name!” She pressed the letters into the empty section in the center of the cover. “Here you go, it’s all ready.”

I passed her the extra money and nodded at her. “Thank you.”

“Anytime. Come back if that one runs out of paper!”

She winked at me as she said that, and I noticed something in her demeanor. Maybe she doesn’t think I’ll be back?

I slipped the new journal into my bag.

I’ll start writing tomorrow.

[terraxcloud]

A Few Many Things...

There are 5 or more timelines, and it's not worth counting them anymore.

Biggs dies in one (the middle) but Zack at the church immediately talks about him being alive (this is the Zack that meets Cloud in the final battle I believe). The first image is the last Aerith date and the Stamp bag is to the left. Johnny appears with a plushie of a dog to show it's a different timeline instead of using a bag.

The reason it's not worth counting them is due to what Sephiroth says:

In this scene the FF9 Terra/Gaia "two planets becoming one" thing is shown again.

They represent the timelines as worlds, but what they're showing is an FF9 thing involving actual planets. I'll look at DFFOO Act 4 Chapters 4 & 8 again to see what's up there. Of course, they wouldn't say it's planets because of the implications, but that's not to say these timelines aren't coming together...they just need a reason since most people just think the devs are changing things just to change them. Gilgamesh has already appeared in this game from his own rift anyway.

After the Temple of the Ancients, Aerith and Tifa aren't able to stop Cloud from giving the Black Materia to Sephiroth. The date scenes between Aerith and Cloud are more than likely for Yuffie than Terra, especially since we have no idea of Terra other than the main theme lyrics.

The descriptions Cloud gives about what he prefers and how he acts matches what they show of Yuffie's interests (chocobos, getting paid for jobs or acting like a merc, smiling, seeing Red XIII as a dog, staring at Cloud, the poses for the photo with Aerith, being pissed off, etc.

This isn't saying that Terra is supposed to be like this. Yuffie was always a reflection of "real Cloud", however, both Terra and Yuffie are similar to him (the whole "siblings" dynamic). It could be that the Terra we got in other games isn't the same as the one when FF6 was being developed before the main character vanished (Kefka may have sucked her personality away).

The thing that makes Cloud "regain himself" is remembering the flower Aerith gave him in the beginning of Remake.

I don't know if Aerith will find the "real Cloud" herself. Tifa represents that part, but it's clear they're changing things with her. Obviously, they're going to use the "dream" this time around, which is what Aerith represents (she already has a shared dream with Zack), not Tifa. They also put a small shooting star bit with Aerith instead of Tifa, but if Aerith's technically dead the only character that can do these things is Yuffie.

The dialog Yuffie gives immediately gives after Cloud wakes up before the Lost Capital is the hint. It couldn't be encapsulated in a small scene, so they just left Yuffie out of it. If she's not going to do anything, why would she say it immediately?

Another hint was after the Demon Gate boss when Cloud starts banging his sword on the wall to break through. The two characters they show reacting to him are Barret and Yuffie, but the camera goes towards Yuffie in particular. Before this Yuffie was shadow boxing with Barret, which is what she does with Cloud at the end of her date scene (it also happens with Barret after leaving the Mansion at Nibelheim before the final Roche boss fight).

I believe Red XIII represents the change Cloud has personality-wise ("you don't always have to play the badass") while Barret represents the anger he feels at Sephiroth. Having Yuffie shadow box Barret for fun while Cloud is going crazy for the Black Materia shows that Yuffie will have a big role in preventing Cloud from doing this in the 3rd game.

The Corel sidequest with Cloud Jr. shows Barret's change to being "softer" as he explains that he was always hard on others and going after everything that ticked him off, making others suffer in the process. It makes sense why they show him and Yuffie reacting.

The other sidequests that show this "anger" issue are the Chocobo Billy ones with Yuffie in Nibelheim and the last one at the Gold Saucer with Tifa. The Yuffie one is more about the anger issue while the Tifa one is more about learning what happened in the past.

If you think about it, the only thing Cloud doesn't "remember" is being a normal Shinra foot-soldier, the one with motion-sickness (maybe the memory of him defeating Sephiroth from Remake is gone due to the whispers? He does react to the tubes in the Shina Mansion a bit).

The dialog Yuffie has about Chocobos are also noteworthy (since if we go by the symbols, Yuffie is the Moogle and Cloud is the Chocobo).

Btw, these two scenes are kinda similar:

Another "Yuffie represents the Moogle" hint is made at the Gold Saucer intro. Cait Sith summons a Cactuar, a Tonberry, and a Chocobo, but what about the Moogle? It's Yuffie since the moogle is on her pop star outfit. These four on the orphanage chalkboard in Remake. With the characters we've seen so far it may be like this:

Cactuar - Zack Tonberry - Sephiroth Chocobo - Cloud Moogle - Yuffie

The Tonberry King boss battle has MAI dialog that sounds similar to Sephiroth's dialog when he goes insane in the mansion basement. It's kinda fitting that this is a Yuffie sidequest and you need to steal his crown.

The Cactuar thing is Zack due to the "pose" which Cloud, Yuffie, and Red XIII also do in the last proto-relic quest. People know that's something Zack has done.

Every sidequest has it's own meaning. The one similar to Cloud's Dissidia story is the Barret one in Gongaga with the weaponsmith.

[upontherisers]

what if I was crazy and asked for uhh

⁹⁹⁾ a cluttered bedside table

for the summer camp au 🫣

a/n: this was such a good prompt thank you love!!! no proofreading we die like men, i slammed an energy drink an hour ago can you tell, these two have issues, etc, etc. enjoy

Hazel’s bedside table is cluttered after just six days. How? She doesn’t know, but she maneuvers around her alarm clock, three half-finished bracelets, the itinerary from this morning—this morning? Yesterday morning? It’s 2 am so technically the time… you know… anyway—her journal, her book, the portable mug Ginny got her as a start-of-camp present, her water bottle with another half-finished bracelet tied around the handle, the penny she found in the parking lot, and a resealable bag of Sour Patch Kids to grab her glasses and her phone, and slip out of bed.

Her feet find her too-worn slides without her having to look down as she pulls her Lake Harding Lower Camp sweater over her head—the collar’s in shambles and it’s so faded that you can barely read it, but she loves the thing, okay? 

She takes a look around the cabin, serenaded by Ginny’s gentle snores from the bunk above her. Last night of quiet. The beds sit empty, awaiting the girls that’ll fill them with noise and color come morning. Her stomach flutters. It shouldn’t after all these years, but she can’t help it. Soon they’ll be here, with their faces another year older and all the stories that she didn’t get to hear over e-mail—teenage heartbreak, ice skating injuries, complaints about Mom and Dad—and so much hope, so much excitement to be home away from home for the next eight weeks.

She hopes the same thing she hopes every year, that they like it, that it lives up to their hopes and dreams, and thumbs the necklace Jack got her when she transitioned to Upper Camp, a small gold medallion stamped with the rising sun and evergreen tree of Lake Harding’s logo.

Jack, right.

Hopping the squeaky floorboard, she opens the door and pushes into the night-slash-morning.

He’s right where he always is, on the bench under the Great Pine in the center of camp, facing the Big House and the lake beyond. An arm is already thrown across the back of the seat and she sits quietly. He doesn’t move. 

It’s nice, early enough in the season that she doesn’t have to cover herself in bug spray for a quick trip outside, and cool. If they wait long enough, fog’ll start to pool on the grass as the day begins, dotted with dragonflies and early birds in the gentle morning. But for now, she’s content to sit with the wind and the stars and the lights shining from the cabin porches where her fellow counselors rest inside, some fast asleep and some as restless as Jack. 

She pulls her sleeves over her hands and tucks them into herself, leaning her head on his shoulder. He brings his arm around her and presses a kiss into her bonnet, but doesn’t speak as he slowly rubs her bicep. Tilting her head back, she can see his face, sober as the grave, and the straight line of his nose and his eyes, somehow still blue in the dark and a million miles away.

He doesn’t want to talk about it, she knows that. Two weeks on the Cape this year and any time she got close to hinting at his last summer, he changed the subject to work or the weather or bed, and she was happy to follow him there. But, God—he’ll dig a trench and hunker down before giving her an inch of space into his head where she knows he’s scared. Hell, she would be too, and that’s why she knows he is. They’re one in the same. Whatever souls are made of or however souls are made or whatever Kathy said in Wuthering Heights. Yeah, that.

A bird sings as the wind picks up and rustles the trees in the clearing. His side is warm against hers and she could fall asleep right here, right among the crickets and constellations, if she weren’t so wired. Her heart jumps again as she remembers that her girls are going to be here in less than twelve hours. In California, Isla is up already and on her way to the airport; Kinsley’s moms are shaking her awake in their D.C. apartment. So soon, she thinks, and she’ll throw her arms around them and shuffle them into their cabin.

Jack’s boys are doing the same and he’s thinking about them. He’s thinking about every kid and about their parents, about how many cars they can fit in the parking lot at once, about the sand they dumped in the back so that the busses won’t get stuck in the mud from the rain, about the other billion things that he won’t let her help him with despite her insistence. 

“No,” he’d said when she asked yesterday, “you should be with your girls.”

“And you should be with your boys.”

She’d given him pause, but not enough because he handed the task off to Red and gave her a look that dared her to challenge him.

Let me in, you bastard.

“My mom says hi,” she says after a while.

“She does?” He looks down at her.

She nods. “Yep. Says you need to wear more sunscreen this year. Doesn’t want any more pictures of you burned to shit.”

That gets a smile out of him and he pulls her in for another kiss on the head. “Tell her I’m a grown man and I’ll get sunburnt if I want to.”

“Well,” she starts, and she doesn’t know if she should keep going. “You need someone to look after you.”

He tenses next to her, all that wiry muscle coming to life under his hoodie. Sitting up, she levels her gaze at him. His eyes are blown wide but he doesn’t give anything else away in his face. Like a rock, this guy.

“You deserve to have fun this year.”

“I will have fun this year.”

She shakes her head with a terse laugh and looks down at her hands, fiddling with the fraying cuffs of her sleeves. “That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

His hand finds her thigh, splayed and searing and confident against her bare skin. He doesn’t mean it like that, not here. There are rules, y’know—not Chick’s rules, but theirs, the unwritten ones they’ve put down over the years, but it’s so easy to give into him, where it’s warm and safe and she knows he’ll treat her well. 

It goes quiet again and it’s quiet for a time, long enough for the sky to start to lighten, but not enough for the color to fill in. A noise from the boys’ side catches her ear, then the same from the girls; a door opening, and by the distinct creak of the hinges, her money is on the older divisions.

Her hunch is right as she tracks swimsuit-clad shapes in the dark slipping toward the Big House and over the hill down to the waterfront, towels slung over their shoulders as they shove and race along the path. Eight in all.

“The 15s counselors are freaks,” she says, “even that new guy.”

“Rosie,” Jack replies.

“Rosie, right.” Izzy’s friend. She’s getting old, forgetting the new counselors’ names. They’re both getting old. 

Her eyes start to droop close as a warning and she yawns, stretching her arms above her head. Jack watches her, and keeps watching her as she rises, her thighs peeling off of the bench. She likes the way he looks at her—whether it’s from a bench or a bed or along the shore in Maine or from the driver’s seat as his car winds its way through the mountain roads that lead to camp. She likes the way he looks at her and how soft he goes despite the sharp angles of his face and those brows that never seem to raise from a frown. She likes the way that his eyes go straight to her heart and make her feel like she has a place in the world, even just for a moment. 

And she doesn’t like the way her stomach twists at the thought that he’ll have to stop looking at her at the end of the summer, and that might be it forever.

“You should try to rest,” she says to her shoes.

Sitting forward, he reaches for one of her hands, tangling their fingers together. She’s transfixed for a moment—the long lines connecting his pale knuckles together against the even, flat brown of hers. The warmth kicks in, the one she gets when it’s just them, but it’s not just them, is it? It’s like she blinks and the sky is daylight blue, the sun speeding its way over the lake and it’s the first day already. How many more does she get with him?

But she blinks again and it’s barely dawn, the early blue hour washing everything navy and making her feel like she’s submerged in water. Or drowning.

“Come back to mine,” he offers, and she barks a laugh.

There are actual rules, one that Chick did write, but as she meets Jack’s eyes—pleading, scared to ask for anything out loud—and feels his hand in hers, she thinks of what few fucks Chick gives about the rules.

“At least ‘til reveille. Bill won’t mind.”

Bill won’t. Jack barely fits in his twin bed, and there’s no way in hell they’ll be comfortable, but it’s just until reveille and she can listen to his heartbeat as the birds begin to sing in earnest to tell them that the sun is rising.

Hazel doesn’t respond, just tugs him along to the last bunk on the boys’ side, and Ginny will just have to turn her alarm off for her. Good, it’ll get the girl out of bed. 

[mssirey]

Demonology: The Stars Align (Even When We Don’t Share the Night Sky)

I had a lot of fun participating in this year's Big Bang. Thank you to @supercorpbb for facilitating it. I had the pleasure of working with two amazing artists, @anaparamosart and katieswhcre on instagram. Be sure to check out their pieces, here and here! I also could not have done this without the support of my cheerleader, @lovesastateofmind1. Thank you!

Here's a preview of my piece, which can be read on ao3!

Lena felt a pull. It was not of her body, nothing that would force her forward. It searched deeper. It demanded her hope, fed on her desire. She had not realized how much it relied on her, how integral her devotion was. There was the instinct to resist, to deny it, but she was losing ground to the urge to jump. To give herself wholly. The bloom of doubt was stamped out by resolution. Her mind was made up. She would see the summoning through. She let go of her hold on her emotions, let them soar to meet the shimmering that cut through the air. As the mechanisms turned together, they spun gold out of thin air, whirling strands that bathed the room in radiance so pure as to fill her lungs. It expanded, and overtook her. The world was washed away for a long held breath, color melting into white, and then something beyond. She closed her eyes against the glare, but could not escape the light. It pierced her, expanded to overtake her skull, and when comprehension abandoned her, it was all that remained inside her head. With a rush, everything collapsed back inward, her chest emptying with it. She couldn’t draw her breath back, couldn’t command her lungs to fill, not for the gravity that stole from her. There was a thunder she could not hear, but she felt it boom between her ribs, starting her heart once more. Then silence. Stillness. When Lena blinked her eyes open once more, before her stood a figure she could not have imagined.

[aladaylessecondblog]

Red Mountain Waffle House pt. 19

"And there you go. Enjoy yourself."

Jiub handed over what looked like a rolled-up piece of pumpkin-stamped plastic wrap to a Dunmer that quickly left.

"And what exactly was that?" Nibani spoke up, having just come out of the bathroom and noting this gift.

"It's the Witches Festival. I'm giving things out."

"That wasn't a child asking for sweets OR a beggar asking for alms. Was that moon sugar? Skooma, maybe?"

"It's weed. Half my customers are Urshilaku...I'm not seeing the problem here."

"The problem," Nibani huffed, "Is that you're doing it from behind the counter. Do that outside if you have to do it at all."

"In this weather?" Jiub gestured toward the exit. An ash storm had kicked up, and looked to be turning red. "If Sadara were still here I could have her do it. Girl wouldn't catch anything, what with having corprus and all."

There was a brief rush, and for the next half hour they didn't have the chance to talk.

After a chain of waiters and waitresses, Nibani had finally been unable to find anyone willing to work the night shift and had taken to doing the duty herself. It had her in none too good a mood, despite the drop in Sixth House related customers. Jiub figured she'd be happy about that, but there'd been more ordinators too, and they were a fair sight more troublesome.

"And when are you going to put on a shirt?"

"Huh?"

"I said, when are you going to put on a shirt?"

"It's my costume!" Jiub protested with a laugh, "I'm one of those weird Sixth House dreamers."

"Really? That's not only lazy--"

"But also blasphemous, yada yada yada." Jiub finished his cigarette and went to trying to scrape up a patch of burned in egg on the grill. "It couldn't be less of a problem. Maybe focus on finding someone that actually wants to work at night?"

"Were you always this snotty?" Nibani grumbled. "Nobody wants to work this shift and deal with the ordinators and cultists anymore."

"And the skooma heads, don't forget about them. You chased off the only person that did. Congrats. Could've had the big man in a better mood, and Nerevar too, but--"

"Nerevar?"

"Yeah, he was by looking for..." Jiub stopped as another couple people showed up. One was dressed as a Telvanni mushroom and the other as a guar. He handed them each a little wrapped up chunk of weed, gave them their orders for waffles, and then went back to the grill. "Anyway, I don't think he's doing the prophecy any more than Sadara was, considering he's currently shtupping the Sharmat."

He nearly dropped the spatula when he heard what she said next.

"What is it about this man that makes Nerevar and his incarnates act SO unwise?"

Not for the first time did Jiub thank his lucky stars that the idea of sex had no power over him. If Dagoth Ur was that much a rizzmaster they might all have been in danger if he'd any interest in anyone unconnected to Nerevar.

--------------------------

"Dwemernet Executive Support, what's your thousand gold per hour problem?" Sotha Sil paused when there was shouting on the other end. "No, your inability to run a team full of bots in Team Fortress 2 is not my problem - yes, you are paying for service, but your disconnect is your own fault."

Another pause.

"Would you prefer to have no access at all?"

Again the sound of shouting on the other end of the call.

"That's not a threat, Dagon, it's a promise." Sotha Sil finished the sentence and moved over to a monitor to the side of his main and largest one. "Choose your next words carefully."

Incomprehensible shrieking.

"Oh," Sotha Sil's voice was momentarily breathy. "Look at that. You just lost access. I'll be sure to let everyone know of Oblivion's dwemernet outage...which I estimate will last at least a day."

He mistyped when there was a particularly loud shout and his headset went to speakerphone.

"--and AFTER I finish pissing out the fire I set to what's left of Ald Sotha, I'm going to build a NEW shrine on top of it and--"

Sotha Sil typed again, and fixed the speakerphone. "I am ending the call. When you feel as though you can behave with decorum and dignity, I will be available to take your call."

He ended the call, and blocked the number's further attempts to get him back on the line. The extinction burst ended only an hour later, and Sotha Sil amused himself in knowing that the daedric princes' policy of self policing would take care of this problem.

The Coldharbour Compact was very mysterious for a reason - for who would believe that the one thing to keep them from crossing over was the threat of no longer maintaining the labyrinthine complications of running the Dwemernet to all planes of Oblivion?

Sotha Sil set the line to Do Not Disturb and left the room.

-----------------------------------

It seemed to be the one day a year nobody minded people wearing an Indoril helm, so long as they were the designated color that ordinators didn't wear...so that was what Sadara had done, with one slight addition - a Spirit Halloween shirt. It felt appropriate, considering. Nerevar's influence here and then not here, replaced with something else.

No, she just didn't want to spend much time or money on a costume when she was too old to really enjoy it anyway. Or at least, too old to enjoy it the way kids did...well, that and not really knowing anyone who would get her into a good party. There were some here in Mournhold, sure, but...

Eh, do I really WANT to go to a party, though, considering what happened at the last one?

Barenziah was done with her for the day, though, so she went out with a handful of gold pieces and a small bag of candy, handing them out to any beggars or children that asked. The night was a bit chill, so she decided to head down to one of the shops and get a coat.

Wow, she thought. A coat. A NEW coat.

Coat purchased, she went back out and stopped at the newstand. Maybe if Barenziah was so fond of those cigars from Black Marsh, she ought to try them too. A single one wasn't THAT expensive...

...that was her thought, anyway, until she saw her own face on one of the gossip rags and THE DAGOTH DIVORCE.

She huffed. "Divorce, there was barely a marriage to begin with!"

Despite knowing it was probably a bad idea, Sadara decided to buy one and read what was being said inside.

She realized almost immediately that she should've listened to her intuition.

A sad story indeed, this particular marriage. After a courtship that would make most heads spin, a whirlwind romance for the ages, a heart lies in ashes. One can hardly expect the Sharmat to behave decently, but this disloyalty to a bride no doubt in awe of the charisma that won him her hand is a new low.

Sources say that the demon of Dagoth's decision was prompted by Saint Nerevar's revival, being that it was him who held the--

Sadara crumpled up the magazine, threw it into a trashcan next to the newstand, and headed back without even getting the cigar she'd meant to. What in oblivion WAS that, and why was she being portrayed as some sort of lovestruck waif? Why was it she saw or heard about this so often?

New rule, she thought, No more looking at magazine headlines. No looking at Morrowtwitter, not that I was going to anyway. Just go to work and play the lute and maybe pick up another new hobby. Make sure there is never even a remote chance of a thought occurring.

She stayed out a bit longer, though, making sure to hand out the rest of the candy to a couple kids that passed by and on a whim the gold she'd intended to spend on the cigar too, before heading back to the palace.

Sadara practiced in her room with her lute for an hour and, in a turn entirely unlike her, fell asleep at a reasonable time.

At least asleep she didn't have to deal with any of this nonsense.

[the-better-rainbow-unikitty]

I've recently overheard my fellow lower secondary school teachers boasting about how they never give any pluses, gold stars, or anything like that to the pupils because they are big now and should be grateful for their marks only. That's when I started giving my pupils all the pluses, gold stars, funky stamps, and dinosaur stickers I have. I see no reason why these little prizes should be for small kids only. My oldest pupils are fifteen and they are still pretty much children. They try much harder now. Such a little motivation boost goes a long way. I'm staying alive to protect this hill.

[dragonfly0808]

I know you’ve answered this several times before but what’s everyone’s current style like (since its possible it’s changed)

This is actually in my character sheets so I’ll give their style with a few examples of colors and fave clothing and stuff like that.

This will get way too detailed but I don’t care, I’ve been waiting for this moment.

Bloom: I don’t know how to describe her style, maybe casual street style but a little cute?

Her main colors are blue, yellow, light orange and the tiniest dash of pink. Bell bottom jeans and high tops are her staple. Other favorites are: thrift shirts, graphic T’s, simple form fitting blouses. Messy ponytails.

Later on her style becomes just a bit more elaborate (in part thanks to the other girls influencing her style) and she incorporates cropped cardigans, pattern jeans and collard shirts. She loves using small flames but doesn’t wear a lot of red. Doesn’t like heels. Messy buns are her fave (she can often be seen with a pencil holding up her hair). ALSO, her staple is bell-bottom jeans and she uses a lot of sweetheart necklines as a way to honor Daphne since that was Daphne’s fave.

Stella: She’s just starcore and artsy fashion.

Her main colors are gold, orange, yellow and green. Later on starts using dark blues and silvers as she gets more in touch with her moon magic.

She wears chain belts, dozens of matching sets (crop shirt and skirt) bralette croptops, mini skirts, high waisted shorts, silk satin fabric (lots of satin fabric), sequins and glitter. Gold jewelry and *extra* shoes, wears heels almost all the time. And her hair is always straightened.

Her style doesn’t so much change as it does just… mature over time, she still wears her glitter and sequins just with more… I don’t want to say taste but more strategically if that makes sense. She experiments more with shapes and overall she does appear a little more mature. She also starts curling her hair a little more often.

Flora: A mix of bohemian and cottagecore aesthetic.

Her main colors are pink and green. Overtime she starts mixing in more neutral colors like beige, white and light greys and browns along with blues and lilac.

She wears puff sleeves, sheer blouses, ribbon corsets and long flowing skirts. She wears cute lace and lots of tull. Simple shoes. Platforms and comfortable heels and ankle boots. She always has braid crowns and accent braids.

Overtime she incorporates even more romantic silhouettes, wrap shirts, translucent shirts over tops, and more complicated shapes for her skirts. She loved showing off her shoulders and back but is at a stage in which she isn’t doing such and is wearing more long sleeved shirts. She also wears more big earings, not just hoops but also big stars and hears and moons and stuff like that. The braids remain but now her favorite kind are waterfall braids.

Musa: She starts off goth/emo but at season 3 I feel like she’s shifting becoming more goth/punk.

Her main colors are dark red and black. Overtime she incorporates dark blues and royal purples.

She wears lots of leather, strappy croptops, fishnets, plaid, checkered patterns, combat boots, chunky platforms, tight mesh tops and big jeans. Her staple is red eyeliner.

Overtime she starts wearing more chains, leg/armwarmers for the aesthetic, chokers, more leather skirts and fishnets with patterns. She loves space buns. And cropped sweaters. Big sweatshirts and lose jeans. Her staple is still red eyeliner but she starts wearing dark lipsticks, dark purple, black, etc.

Tecna: She’s kind of futuristic cyber-punk.

Her main colors are purple and green, later on incorporates silver, blues and whites.

She wears a lot of deconstructed tops and pants. Long boots, irridescent fabric. Cargo pants are her favorite, the more pockets the better. Neon colors and long sleeves.

She starts wearing a lot of bomber jackets (Stella makes her some with dozens of pockets). Visible hemlines, stamped designs (idk how to explain it) black tops and baggy pants.

Aisha: she starts off kind of not really having a style of her own and just wearing the same stuff she does to do sports and dance but over the course of season 2 and 3 she finds she really loves and embraces street style

Her main colors are tans and neutral tones at first, as she discovers herself she incorporates blues, aquas, greens, black but keeps her tans as well.

As her style develops she starts with more sporty streetwear but evolves to just streetwear, cool sweatpants, tracksuits, jerseys, leggings, knee high socks, jumpsuits and sneakers. Cargo shirts.

She incorporates cut-out tops, wide leg pants, platform boots, long necklaces and satin tops as well as interesting patterns for her tops.

Sky: Simple style, becomes a bit more fancy over time

His main colors are blues and yellows. Incorporates oranges and dark green overtime along with neutral tones.

During the swticharoo he mainly wears plain t’s, collared shirts, simple jackets, comfy sneakers and jeans.

After that he wears more ‘styllistic’ shirts and really cool shoes not sure how else to describe it and he honestly doesn’t care that much so that’s as much as he does when he’s not in prince mode. In prince mode he goes all out, long leather boots, capes and velvet.

Brandon: Sporty casual (is that a thing?) becomes more skater boy aesthetic by the day

His main colors are green and white, starts using more dark red and dark blue overtime

He wears tight shirts, vans and either simple or ripped jeans. Printed shirts and lots of weird, but cool, patterns for his shirts. Starts wearing more converses and jackets with patches.

Helia: my boy is very preppy but in a soft way if that makes sense

His main colors are beige and pale yellow and neutral colors, he incorporates pale greens and blues and reds.

He wears a lot of chinos, soft cardigans and collared shirts as well as knitted sweaters and vans that he paints on .

He incorporates overtime blazers, button ups, scarves, pullovers, soft vests and loose… what are they called? Those romeo-like shirts you know the ones. But he still wears exclusively long sleeves unless he’s in the dorm or with just the squad.

Riven: He starts off very street style but after he starts living with his grandparents his street style starts incorporating some punk elements (yes, he was influenced by Musa but he will never admit it)

His main colors are dark red, dark blue and grays. He incorporates more blacks, greens and different shades of red.

Bomber jackets are his staple in season 1. He also wears leather jackets, cropped t’s, graphic t’s, ripped jeans and simple shirts with stickers as well as sneakers.

Overtime he incorporates, hightops, plain sleeveless shirts, black cargo pants and darker bomber jackets with patches. He starts wearing a lot of rings and his sister always paints his nails black. He’ll occasionally ask Musa to do his eyeliner.

Timmy: I love Timmy but he is low-key hopeless. He’s just nerd

His main colors are yellows and oranges, he wears more greens and neutral tones overtime.

He wears simple t-shirts with colored sleeves, baggy jeans and cotton shirts, sneakers and layers. He has 1 jean jacket that he loves more than life itself, both his mom and Stella keep trying to burn it because it’s that old but he guards it with his life.

He starts wearing more button up shirts, turtlenecks and slightly less baggy jeans. He gets shirts with cute patterns (he has one with kitten paws) or graphic t-shirts from fandoms. He also wears a newer jean jacket with patches that Stella made but still has the old one.

Nabu: he has a cool casual style if that makes sense? Not sure?

His main colors are purples, blues, grays and neutral tones.

He wears chinos, button up shirts, cool vans, loose sweaters. Cool long sleeved, loose shirts. Leather bracelets and hawaiian-style shirts only with patterns that are more ‘fashionable’.

Fire-round for the Trix’s styles in season 1 since all fashion has gone out the window for them for different reasons.

Icy: main colors; blues and silvers

HIGH PONYTAIL, leather skirts, crystals and crop tops. Thigh high boots, belts, strappy tops high heels and mini skirts with chains.

Stormy: main colors; dark reds, black and blue

Punk. Ripped fishnets, black, ripped graphic t’s, belts, off-shoulder shirts and plaid shirts over black bras.

Darcy: main colors; purple, yellow and grays.

Long bell pants, vests and blazers. Circles/weird patters, small sunglasses. Platforms and simple crop tops.

There!

Now, you may be asking, Dragonfly did you seriously just HAVE THIS in your fucking character sheets since before season 1 began?

…yes, yes I did. I HAD A LOT OF FREE TIME AND IT WAS PART OF THE CHARACTERIZATION. Also I was pissed at what Fate did with fashion and that’s why s1 had a lot of descriptions of what the girls were wearing

Also also, fun fact, I found in Stormy’s character sheet that her real name was going to be Rita? And I just didn’t remember I’d already decided her real name and just changed it to Willow and I hadn’t remembered the name change until now? So uh… yeah?

Anyways, hope you enjoyed!

[808snfastbreaks]

DISCLAIMER: Episode One was recorded November 10th, shortly before the Boston Celtics faced off against the Milwaukee Bucks.

The camera pans to the podcast setting, where two men come into frame. On the right is Zaire Wilson, one of the co-hosts of the 808s and Fastbreaks podcast, and to his left is the other co-host MJ, Zaire’s college roommate and teammate from his time at Duke University.

MJ: “And we’re live! Welcome to the 808s and Fastbreaks podcast, I’m MJ, and you to my right is reigning NBA Champion, Zaire Wilson! Zaire, I dunno about you, but I’m feeling amazing. How are you feeling today?”

ZW: “I’m pumped, honestly. Today is a great day for multiple reasons, it’s game day and we’re recording the first episode of this here podcast. I actually am excited for this than I am the game today, so let’s get to it.”

MJ: “Alright, alright. Let’s start off with the most obvious question here, how do you feel after winning your first championship this summer?”

ZW: “Like a heavy weight was lifted off my shoulders, no joke, I feel no pressure coming into the season. To know that I’m stamped as a champion is good enough for me really, but it hits differently doing it for Boston, like bro… Having shared that moment with my teammates meant a lot to me, being there with the guys you went to war with— Jaylen, Kristaps, Jrue, Derrick, Al, the rest of the team, from the bench to the coaching staff to the guys that get us right for every game, they deserve the recognition, man. I think right next to ring night, the parade in Boston was amazing. It’s really an honor to get that elusive 18th banner for this team specifically, knowing that the goal for next season is to repeat and get some more. That’s what the city of Boston and fans of the Celtics deserve.”

MJ: “I’m proud of you man, it’s well deserved. You became stamped, not only as one of the all time greats, but a legend in Boston. Shortly after winning the championship, you signed a hefty extension to stay in Boston for the next couple years. What does the city of Boston mean to you?”

ZW: “It means a lot, really.. they took a chance on a 19 year old 8 years ago and ever since then they’ve treated me like I’m one of their own. This is the place I’ve always wanted to be, and the Celtics taking a chance on giving me that extension just shows that they want me to be here for a very long time.”

MJ: “To be honest bro, I don’t see you in anything but a Celtics jersey. MJ chuckles. But let’s keep on talking about the summer of Zaire, yeah? You also won the gold medal in the Olympics but it wasn’t in the way that you wanted, you didn’t play as much minutes to the point where the media turned it into a big story where you were complaining about not getting minutes, care to clear the air on that?”

ZW: zaire pauses for a moment, before shaking his head with a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “Maaaaan, I won’t lie I never been through no shit like that in my life. Imagine coming off a championship, getting a super max deal, making All-NBA only to barely see playing time in the Olympics. It pissed me off at the time, but I used it as motivation for the upcoming season, I’m out for blood. As I look back on it though, I appreciate the experience and the opportunity to suit up with those guys. We got a gold medal out of it so I ain’t complaining, man. Enough about my offseason though, let’s talk about the NBA.”

MJ: “Crashing out over getting benched ain’t you bro, I’m glad you realized that early and didn’t do anything crazy. But anyway, the offseason was a busy one for a lot of teams, especially for the Eastern Conference. The Philadelphia 76ers loaded up and got some depth as well as all star Paul George while the New York Knicks traded for both Mikal Bridges and Karl Anthony Towns. I feel like they’ve vastly improved as a team on paper, but you’re the basketball player not me. Do you feel like they’re a bigger threat to you in the Eastern Conference?”

ZW: “On paper, those teams definitely did get better. Paul George adds an interesting element to a Philly team that has a lot of depth, he’s proven to be a consistent second option, sometimes you can rely on him to be a first option but now since you have the big fella Joel Embiid and Tyrese Maxey, that team complicates things for opposing teams. Only issue I would say they have is their ability to get healthy, I’d say they’d have a good shot at making the Eastern Conference finals against us. So do the Knicks actually, pairing Mikal Bridges and Karl Anthony Towns along with Jalen Brunson and those guys is lethal, let’s hope they don’t get hurt or get gassed by the playoffs. But to answer your question, nah, I don’t think they’re a threat.”

MJ: “So I agree with everything you said, besides Philly making an Eastern Conference Finals. It’s a running joke that Embiid is the only MVP that hasn’t made one, which sucks for him but I don’t think this roster has the tools to get the job done, they have to show me when it comes to the playoffs. I do think it’s going to be a Celtics and Knicks Eastern Conference finals if everyone is healthy.” 

ZW: “Besides those teams, you could make a case for Milwaukee making it but we’re 10 games in and they’ve been abysmal to start the season, which is crazy to me.”

MJ: “That brings me to my next question, the first ten games of the season have passed, who do you feel have been the most surprising teams from both conferences to start out the season and the most disappointing? For me, the most surprising team for me is Cleveland, undefeated, those guys gel together on the court and have been beating the competition with ease and the Golden State Warriors in the western conference. You would think with the loss of Klay Thompson they would drop off just a bit, but it looks like they didn’t miss him at all. Stephen Curry is doing Stephen Curry things, while his supporting cast know their roles and play at a very fast pace, ranking top 5 in pace overall in the league.

In terms of the most disappointing out East, come on Milwaukee, you have Dame and Giannis.. two players that are top 5 in their positions respectively, you’ve had a season together to gel, you gotta make it work. If they don’t make it far in the playoffs, I think you can chalk them as being cooked.. and for the West, it’s gotta be Minnesota. This was a team that came off a Western Conference Finals berth, obviously they made a huge change in trading KAT for both Julius Randle and Donte DiVincenzo, but I think it’ll be a matter of time before they start gelling together.”

ZW: “Cleveland’s off to a great start, that’s for sure. To start off that hot and keep rolling is impressive. We play them on the 19th, so it’ll be fun if they keep their streak til then, because I want the Celtics to be their first L of the season. Golden State, we played them and I won’t lie they beat us on our own floor fair and square, salute to them. They’ve been elite to start the season. I would say for me.. the team in the east that’s surprised me thus far has to be the Brooklyn Nets. This is a team that’s very different from the laughing stock that they were last year. When we played them they were hella competitive, while I believe this is a team that won’t make the playoffs when it’s the end of the season, they will give playoff teams a hard time. For the Western Conference, I gotta say it’s the Houston Rockets. The tandem of Alperen Sengun and Jalen Green is finally working wonders, you can’t forget the intensity they have coming from Amen Thompson, Tari Eason, Dillon Brooks. This looks like the season where they may actually break through and make the playoffs.

For the most disappointing teams… I gotta agree with you on Milwaukee for the same exact reasons you said. It just seems like they lost that edge that they had, hopefully when Khris Middleton comes back they get it going but so far it’s looking ugly. In the Western Conference side of things, the Dallas Mavericks have been disappointing. They made the finals against us last season, added Klay Thompson and some depth—ultimately having us thinking that they would get better but it seems like they still need to take that next step. Only time will tell though.”

MJ: “Well said, Z. Let’s talk about the playoffs, it’s too early to tell but who do you think will be a dark horse team from each conference to make noise in the playoffs?”

ZW: “I would say the Orlando Magic is a team people are sleeping on, the combination of Paolo Banchero and Franz Wagner is lethal as hell. Not to mention they’re a really good defensive team which makes it tough for offensive heavy teams. Wait til they’re all healthy, they have a shot at making a run. For the west. It’s the Memphis Grizzlies. Do you see what they’re doing with most of the roster coming in and out of injuries? I believe Ja Morant and co have something to prove after missing the playoffs last season, they’re my pick.”

MJ: “Good choices. Both teams have real potential to surprise people. I say in future episodes, we make predictions for each round as the playoffs happen.”

ZW: “Definitely. Speaking of predictions, who do you have for MVP? And why is it me?” Zaire laughs.

MJ: “You’re going to hate this, Z, but I’m going with Nikola Jokic or Shai Gilgeous-Alexander. You’re in the conversation, though!”

ZW: “If I knew you’d say that, I’d have you kicked off this set. But honestly, those guys deserve consideration. Just don’t sleep on me. I’ve got those games circled for a reason, and maybe then the MVP narrative will shift in my favor.”

MJ: “I believe you can win it, Z. You’re leading the league in points, and while it’s early, you’ve silenced the critics from the summer. We’ll revisit this when we have special guests on the pod. One last question before we wrap up—what’s your Finals prediction? For me, it’s Celtics and Thunder. It’s early, but you and Shai are competing to be the face of the league, and the NBA needs that matchup.”

ZW: “That’s a solid pick, but I’m thinking Celtics and Nuggets. That series would bring back that classic feeling of real basketball.”

MJ: “There you have it, everyone. Thanks for tuning in to the first episode of the 808s and Fastbreaks podcast. We hope you’ll keep supporting as we release more episodes. Any final words, Z?”

ZW: “Just show love, always. I appreciate everyone supporting us, and I hope we can make this a regular thing for everyone to enjoy. Peace.”