#still feels mad that i’m out of here in five weeks. utterly insane. i don’t know how to feel

[mossflower]

girl who tf planned my student finance. my first term i’m surviving on two-thirds of what i have per week for the other two terms like

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

I Melt With You - Bakugou Katsuki

All Parts:

Part 4:

You’re paranoid. 

Terribly, terribly paranoid, and even if you’re aware of it, there’s nothing you can do to stop it. Nothing you can do to quell the anxiety that wells up every time another person enters your space. Every time their skin nearly brushes yours, even accidentally, just for a split second.

It’s maddening. Nearly debilitating the way you’re flinching away from people. You can see your co-workers notice too, fellow nurses suddenly giving you odd looks every time you reject a high five. Even when you’re wearing your gloves. It’s just a panic reaction at this point- a fixation on trying to keep your quirk as least exhaustive an experience as it can be. 

On one hand, you still really dislike Bakugou- nearly hate him for bringing it up to you- but, on the other hand, he did manage to figure it out. He somehow managed to figure out what you never could, and all in a matter of minutes from your relatively short interactions. It made you think that maybe he could be really smart- if he didn’t spend so much time killing his own brain-cells with every juvenile insult he spewed at you. 

You wondered if that was just him, or he really did hate you that much. Surely he couldn’t be that much of a monster to other people, right? Right? 

Wrong. 

You remember Kirishima, how he apologized for Bakugou nearly the second he walked through the door. It hits you then that you’re definitely not the first person he’d seemed to mercilessly terrorize- you’re not sure if that makes you feel better or worse.

Actually, on second thought, maybe it makes you feel worse. No, it definitely makes you feel worse. So much worse, in fact, that just the sight of his face nearly sends you into an irrational rage. Even now, weeks after the last time he’d personally ruined your day, you were still mad. Still angry. Still cursing every time you saw those red eyes on every billboard, newspaper, and billboard in town.

Well, lucky for you, you didn’t have to look at those printed eyes anymore. Not when the real ones were right in front of you- scaring you shitless as you leave the hospital. 

You had left the hospital from the back exit, tired and crabby from your late shift, grumbling as you stepped out into the alleyway. You’d hardly seen him, just the slightest glimpse of movement behind the tall dumpsters, before he’s practically in your face.

“Jesus!” You gasp, curling your arms around your stomach. Your legs feel like jelly. “Don’t do that! Scared me half to death!”

“Oh, chill the hell out, ya fuckin’ baby. You’re fine.” Bakugou rolls his eyes, falling into step next to you.

He looks worse for the wear, just like every other time you’ve seen him, exhaustion coloring his complexion something sickly. There’s an angry purple bruise covering his cheek, a few cuts, and even more bruising dotting his scarred knuckles. A tiny, vindictive part of you thinks it serves him right, but you keep it to yourself. You’re better than that.

You want to be nice to him, truly you do, but he’s made it pretty hard. Concerning you, Bakugou’s pretty much dug his grave at this point, and he only makes it worse with his next works.

“You need to do something for me.” He orders suddenly. “Now.”

“A-are you asking me? For help? Is that what this is?”

“What? No- obviously fucking not.” He sneers, nostrils flaring. “Why the hell would I go and do something like that. That’s stupid. Weak.”

“Oh. Okay. So then two seconds ago, when you were telling me that I ‘need’ to do something for you, what was that?” You squint your eyes at him, eyebrow twitching with annoyance. “That wasn’t you asking for help?”

“No. ‘s an order.”

“Oh. Yeah. Okay- an order. Because you’re totally in a position to make those.”

“I am.”

“You’re not.” You spin on your heels, nearly crashing into his chest since he followed so closely behind you. Still, you figure the promixity is all the better for gesturing, so you don’t miss a beat, waving your hands emphatically. “My shift just ended, alright? That means I’m not on the clock, and you’re not a patient. I don’t have to suck it up and help you unless I want to. Understand?”

Bakugou seems to bristle at your tone, eyes narrowing as his lip curls. You just try to shrug it off. If he wants to be mad in the middle of the alley, fine- but you’ve had a long day and you’re going home. You spin around again, walking briskly into the street, and it takes him a few moments to catch up.

“I told you, Bakugou, I’m not helping you just because you tried to order me to.”

“I know.”

“Then what’re you doing?”

“Walking.”

It’s his tone; that same needling, challenging edge to it that has your blood boiling. If anyone else said that, you’d probably believe it. But he’s not just walking and Bakugou’s smirk makes that very clear.

“No. You’re following me.”

“Same fuckin’ direction. Sue me, leech.”

The street lamps cast spots that yellow out his already pale skin, and the longer you walk the more withered he looks. Bakugou seems utterly burnt out, and when you look really close, all his features are slumped. It’s a stark contrast to Dynamite’s turbo-charged public persona, and it makes you wonder why he’d even let you see him like this at all. You figure whatever it is must be making him pretty desperate.

Suddenly that same, sinking, sympathetic feeling has you letting up a bit. You slow your pace, catching his gaze as you internally curse your own soft heart.

“Okay. Fine. What’s up. What can I help you with?”

Bakugou squints his eyes, almost like he doesn’t believe you. You think that’s a little fair- most times, even you can hardly believe all that you’re capable of forgiving.

“Sleep.” He finally says, bitten out tightly under his breath. 

“You want me to help you sleep?”

“Yes. Obviously.” 

“Not obvious.” 

“Would be if you weren’t such a shitty nurse.”

“If that’s supposed to be a dig- save it.” You roll your eyes, trying to tamper down the irritation. “I did notice. That you look tired. Just didn’t mention it out of kindness, so don’t think you can start bringing my skills into question.” 

You turn down another side street, and Bakugou follows. There’s less light so you miss the way his eyes scan the lurking shadows; intense and immediate, like a habit he can’t help himself from indulging in. 

“You really live around here?” He suddenly asks, voice low and gruff.

“Yep. In the apartment complexes just up there.” You point off into the distance. “Why-”

“And your shift always end this late?”

“Yes?”

“God,” He laughs something disbelieving under his breath, rolling his eyes at you. “I was fuckin’ right. You really are the stupidest goddamn person walking the planet.”

“That’s- Do you ever think about your words? Seriously!” You huff, curling your fists. You hope it’ll quell your sudden urge to hit him. “Just because you think it, doesn’t mean you should say it! And who the hell are you to judge anyway-”

“You’re fuckin’ asking to be attacked. That’s stupid. ”

“By who?”

“Weirdos, idiot.”

“You’re the weirdo! You’re the one following me home right now!”

“I’m not following you-”

“Really? You’re not? Because right now, the way you’re walking? Maybe all of two steps behind me? On a dark street? At night? Sort of seems like creepy following is exactly what you’re doing!”

“I told you, you need to do something for me. Not leaving till you do.” He grumbles, digging a bruised knuckle into his temples. “And keep it the fuck down. Your screaming sounds like a dying animal.”

“My-” You seethe for a moment, hardly able to stand his attitude. Then you take a breath because you prided yourself on being a kind person, and kind people do not kill national heroes- even when they’re being asses. “You know, it is almost unbelievable how bad you are at asking for help.”

“Told ya, already. ‘m not fuckin’ asking for help.” 

“Then why are you even here bothering me? Go bother someone else!”

“If fuckin’ anyone else could do anythin’, believe me, I’d go to them instead.”

“God, do you even understand how rude that is?” You ask him incredulously, hand grasping at the door to your apartment building. “No, seriously, are you even aware of what you sound like to other people?”

“Not my fuckin’ problem that other people are sensitive.” 

Your eyes bulge at that, mouth nearly dropping in disbelief. You couldn’t believe him. You just couldn’t believe that a single person could possibly go through life with that callous of a mentality. It was insanity. Pure insanity. 

“So, leech, you gonna put me to fuckin’ sleep or not?” 

Just kidding- that was insanity. That sentence alone was proof of just how ridiculous your life had gotten since he’d crash landed into it. 

Bakugou seems to realize his words simultaneously, his cheeks flushing red under the outdoor lights. You almost laugh, but then he’s glaring, eyes sternly set and murderous. For a moment, you really believe he was gonna blow you up right where you were standing. 

“Say a goddamn word. Do it. I fuckin’ dare you. Leech.” He sneers. “Try me.”

“At this hour? No, uh, no thanks.”

Bakugou does seem to relax at your joke, albeit begrudgingly. He drops his shoulders, rolling his eyes, and clears his throat. “Now, seriously, you gonna fuckin’ do it or not?”

A part of you wants to say no- to hold your gift over his head, to lord it just out of reach until he figures out how to not insult you with every breath. Then you think of your job, of all the civilians who come in swearing up and down that Dynamite was a hero. And you believe them, truly, but you think that Bakugou has a long way to go. An especially long way.

But, even so, your fingers are itching again in your gloves. There’s that urge coursing through your veins, your thoughts a constant loop of heal, help, save and so it’s decided. Quickly. Almost like it was never even a question in the first place- and, knowing yourself, you suppose it never really was.

“Fine. I will. On one condition.”

“Condition? When the fuck did I say it was a negotiation. It’s not.” 

“It is and I’ll tell you why.” You spin to face him completely, jumping back when you find him much closer than expected. Your retreat till your back hits the door, but you feel no less cramped than before. “You need me. You do. Don’t bother denying it because you wouldn’t be here otherwise. And the funny thing is, I would’ve done it! Would’ve done it entirely free of charge if you just asked nicely, and-”

“Will you get to the fuckin’ point already?”

“See! That! That’s why there’s a condition! Because you’re needlessly rude! All the time from what I’ve seen. And that’s got to change. Especially if you’re gonna ask for my help more than just this one time.” 

“God- how many fuckin’ times do I need to make this clear to you? Hah?” Bakugou growls, leaning in even more. You can see it in his wild eyes- he’s trying to scare you, crowding you against the door. “I’m not asking. I’m telling you- You don’t make the fuckin’ rules here.” 

“In this I do.” You swallow nervously, trying not to let your intimidation show. “So you’re gonna listen. My condition is this- if you want me to help you, then you have to learn to play nice. That means no names, no insults, no threats, no complaints, and no attitude. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.” 

Bakugou swears under his breath, eyes blazing as he holds his stare. Truthfully, it makes you nervous, but you’re not one to back down. At least, not when there’s no threat of job loss involved. So you just squint back at him, jutting your jaw out in defiance. There’s a tense few seconds of silence, his eyes searching, but then he backs off. Nostrils flaring like a bull, Bakugou relents. 

“Fuckin’ fine. Whatever. Jesus.” He swears, hand curling into a fist at his side. “If you’re gonna be such a bitc-”

“I said, no names, Bakugou.”

He just rolls his eyes, face so very pinched, and you briefly wonder if he’s going to explode. There’s anger as he suddenly shoves you away from the door, yanking it open and letting himself into the building. Then he’s stomping through the lobby, and you’re hardly able to catch up by the time Bakugou stops in front of the elevator. 

“What fuckin’ floor, leech?”

“Once again, I said no names. None. Especially not that one.” You tell him sternly, trying to keep your voice down. “And you didn’t agree. You’re not following me and I’m not helping you unless you agree.”

If possible, you think Bakugou’s expression grows even more irritated, his eyes widening as he sets his jaw. Another few seconds pass, and when he sees you won’t relent, Bakugou nods. It’s tight and strained, stunted like the acquiescence physically pains him. 

“God, you’re lucky I’m nice.” You tell him, nearly stabbing the elevator button as you press it. “Really lucky.”  

“And you’re lucky I don’t have enough energy to beat the shit out of you right now.” 

“No threats, Bakugou. You agreed.” You say easily, stepping into the elevator as it opens. 

“Had to. Because your fuckin’ terms are bullshit.” 

“Hey, no complaints. You agreed to that too.” 

You think you hear something strangled leave his mouth, but it’s swallowed up by the sound of the elevator ascending. 

Now that you’re standing in better lighting, you can see Bakugou’s face clearly. He looked bad before, but he looks worse now. There wasn’t just one bruise on his face, there was multiple- his jaw colored burgundy and his nose and lip split open. There was no blood, but there wasn’t a lot of scabbing either. It was new. These injuries were new.

You think back to that first visit- when he told you he never really got hurt. You wonder what’s been going so wrong for him lately. It seemed like all he’d done since you’d met him was get hurt. 

“Stop fuckin’ staring.”

“I-I’m not. Not like that.” You say. “I’m assessing. You’re gonna need a butterfly bandage, on your nose- skin moves too much. And a cold compress for your jaw. Maybe some disinfectant on your lip. Probably should get your knuckles wrapped too and-”

“Jesus, I fuckin’ get it.”

You roll your eyes, ready to retort, but then the elevator dings. You walk out into the hallway, Bakugou trailing behind you like a shadow. It’s not until you’re at your door, twisting your key into the lock, that you pause.

You’re about to enter your apartment, with Bakugou of all people. A guy you’re not even sure can tolerate you. And yet you’re doing it- because he needs help. Because he looks like walking death and you’ve got a first aid kit under your bathroom sink. Because he’s pretty much proved himself to be an irredeemable asshole, but yet you still can’t bring yourself to leave him out in the cold.

Because you’re an empath, and that, by default, makes you an idiot.

You turn the key. Bakugou, to his credit, looks a little uneasy, but then you’re waving him through the door, and pushing it shut behind him. 

“So, you wait here.” You gesture towards your couch, moving aside a few pillows to make him room to sit. “I’m gonna go get all that stuff I talked about.”

“So, what, you’re just like playing fuckin’ nice nurse again, now?”

“Bakugou. No attitude please- I am nice, okay? All the time. Or, at least when others are nice to me.” You say, levelling him with an unimpressed look. “And even if they’re not, I still don’t like seeing them hurt. Not if I can do something about it.”

“I don’t want your fuckin’ help.”

“No, but you need it. And since you’re too stubborn to ask for it, I’m just gonna have to force it on you.”

“Do you even fuckin’ hear yourself?” Bakugou prickles, voice rising. “Acting like a goddamn savior. Like you’re so fuckin’ good and holy. It’s bullshit.”

“It’s not.” You say flatly. Then you’re pivoting on your heels, leaving him behind and you grab the first aid kit. You open the bathroom door, calling over your shoulder. “And if you have such a problem with it, then leave. Nobody is keeping you here.”

You hear Bakugou swear again, so angry and seething that you almost believe he’ll take you up on your offer; but then you hear footsteps across the floor, the creaking of your couch.

You reach under your sink, pulling out the kit and a few extra rags for a compress. When you look in the mirror there’s exhaustion lacing your features, your eyes worn and dark with bags. The sight makes a part of you want to forget it all- makes you want to surrender to the ache in your bones and tell him to leave; but that’s just a small part. The larger part is telling you that you’re not spent until you’re unconscious, and that right now, Bakugou looks a whole lot worse than you feel. It’s telling you to hurry up and help him and you agree. 

When you walk back out, supplies in hand, Bakugou’s slumped on your couch. He’s got his head tilted over the back, one hand resting on his stomach and the other thrown over his eyes. He shifts at the sound of your approach, dropping his hand and as blinks blearily. You think his eyes look a little duller than before- less like raging wildfire and more like smothered embers. If you didn’t know any better it would look like begruding acceptance- but this was Bakugou, and you knew better.

“So,” You start, setting all of your things down on the couch next to him. “You wanna go to sleep now? Or wait until after I fix up pretty much the entirety of your face?” 

He looks at you unsurely, eyebrows creasing.

“Wait, actually- how are you planning to get home?” You continue, hands on your hips. “Where do you even live? Around here? Close? Because you were out in like, 10 minutes, maybe, the last time I touched you, so it’s gotta be close. You live close right? Because-”

“God, cool it with the fuckin’ word vomit. Shit’s annoying. Shut up.” He grumbles. “I’m sleeping here.”

“Who decided? You?”

“Yeah. Obviously.”

“Bakugou.” You balk, striding closer to the back of your couch. You lean over him, forcing him meet your eyes. “This is what I’m talking about! With the learning to play nice thing! I would’ve let you stay here, I would’ve, had you asked. You can’t just bulldoze your way into my house and refuse to leave!” 

“Yeah? ‘n just what the fuck are you gonna do about it if I do?” He scoffs, curling his lip as he snarls. “Nothing. Because you’re so fuckin’ nice, right?”

“Don’t say it like that. It’s not a bad trait and I won’t have you insulting it. I’m not embarrassed of who I am.” You try to work through your frustration, centering yourself with a deep breath. “Look, bottom line is, ask next time. Or I’m not helping you until you do.” 

“Fine. Whatever.”

You try to shrug off his petulant response, taking another calming breath as you shuck off your gloves. You replace them with latex ones from the kit, pulling the material over your fingers as you grab the antiseptic wipes. You decide to start around the cut on his nose. It’s the largest and widest, spanning over the entirety of his bridge and into his right cheek. It’s a nasty thing, deep and red, all exposed nerves beneath a thin scab and you can tell it hurts him. Bakugou fights to keep from wincing, eyes scrunching slightly as you wipe the remnants of dirt and oil from his skin. 

“This from another villan?” You ask calmly, finding an easy peace in performing familiar tasks. “One today?”

“Cuts are from today. Bruises were yesterday.”

Blinking down at him, you’re a little surprised by how easy his answer was. You expected him to fight, to be difficult just because he could, but Bakugou wasn’t doing that. He was lying relatively and still and sated under your fingertips, the only sign of any tension are his minutely pinched eyebrows. Briefly, you check your gloves- for a moment there you were sure you’d accidentally touched him.

“Oh. Okay.” You reply, taking a small butterfly bandage from your kit. You press it over the cut with gentle pressure. “How’s the other guy look?”

“Fuckin’ terrible. Beat ‘em to hell.”

“I’m sure you did.” You snort, moving on to clean the cut on his lip. “Hey, you wanna know something?”

Bakugou peeks a red eye open, studying your face above him. He nods.

“I actually end up treating a lot of your victims, you know.” 

“Criminals. Not victims.”

“Mhm. Sure. Well, either way, they’re always covered in burns. Mostly minor, but sometimes pretty nasty ones.” You try to keep your voice light, even and steady as you dab at his lip. “Honestly, at this point, I’m pretty sure you’re entirely responsible for the hospital’s chronic burn-cream shortage.”

Bakugou does seem to smile at that, exhaling through his nose as his eyes flutter briefly. “Wouldn’t be fuckin’ short if people just stopped tryin’ to pull stupid shit all the time. ‘s not my fault they’re so fuckin’ bad at running away.” 

“Bakugou.” You balk, unable to keep the laugh from bubbling out your lips. “You can’t say that!’ 

“Why the fuck not? Hah? It’s true.” 

“Because! You’re supposed to be playing nice, remember?”

“Yeah. To you.” He mumbles, voice rough and raspy. “Because you fuckin’ schemed your way into forcing me. They didn’t.” 

“Okay- First, I’m like, pretty sure schemed and forced are the same thing, so we definitely don’t need to say them both. It’s just overkill. Second, that’s a borderline insult, so I’m gonna need you to watch your mouth. And third,” You cradle his jaw in your fingers, turning it to the side. “How the hell did you manage to get a bruise behind your ear?”

“I don’t know- probably the same way you somehow managed to become a nurse; even with such shitty fuckin’ bedside manner. You suck, leech.”

Your jaw drops. 

“Bakugou!”

He cracks his eyes open, something small and pleased settling at the corner of his mouth. There’s almost as much venom in his voice as before but his eyes are softer now. They’re kinder, crinkling just slightly at the edges. 

He’s joking. You realize. He doesn’t actually mean it. Not this time.

“You dick.” You reprimand, flicking his hairline lightly. “You absolute dick.”

His eyes just seem to grow a little brighter at that, just for a second, and then he’s shutting them again. There’s still a smirk on his face though- one you’d swear you’d slap off if he wasn’t actually being somewhat pleasant right now. For once in his life, it seemed. 

“Alright,” You announce, rounding the couch quickly. “Your knuckles look just as bad so give ‘em.”

“No thanks.”

“It wasn’t really a suggestion.”

“I don’t need anymore of your pity help, leech.”

“It’s not pity. Not even a little bit.” You sigh. “Look, I know you’re not gonna understand this, but I seriously cannot chill the hell out without at least trying to take care of people. My quirk makes my fingers literally itch when I see injuries. They itch and they don’t stop itching until I do something about it. Helping people, healing people, is hard-wired into me- it’s as much something I do for me as it is something I do for others.” 

Bakugou’s eyes widen at that. He sits a little straighter, fists clenching as he presses them into the cushions. A few beats pass and then he’s grumbling, throwing himself back as he thrusts both of his injured knuckles forward.

“God, you’re so fucking irritating.” He gripes. “If you’re gonna be such a weirdo about it, then get the hell to it already.” 

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, instead kneeling next to your coffee table and settling on the ground. You take his hands in yours, bending all his fingers to make sure nothing is broken. When nothing is, you look up at Bakugou, planning to tell him the good news, but he’s already looking at you. Your eyes meet, and he blinks, once, twice, before averting his eyes quickly. You think that maybe he blushes too, but he turns his head so sharply you’re almost convinced you imagined it.

You just try to shrug it off, focusing your attention back on his hands. You notice how warm they are again, nearly feverish and strangely unblemished. When you start rubbing bruise cream over knuckles, kneading the joints between your fingers, Bakugou sighs slumps back into the couch. He closes his eyes once more.

“Are you falling asleep?”

“No. Can’t. Fuckin’ told ya already.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t tell me why.” You set his hands back on the couch, moving instead to unravel a bandage. “Not that I won’t help you, but have you tried any other remedies? Melatonin? Or lavender? Maybe chamomile? Any of those?”

“Mhm. Falling asleep isn’t the problem.”

“Then what is?” 

 He opens his eyes, squinting at you from above. “None of your fuckin’ business.” 

“Bakugou, I’m trying to help here.”

“I don’t want-”

“Yeah. I know. You don’t want it. Or you don’t want to rely on it. I get it. But you wouldn’t have even came here if you didn’t absolutely need it, right?” You insist, grabbing his hands into yours again. “God, you know, I’ve had toddlers who were more cooperative than you. Why’re you so difficult?”

“I’m not fuckin’ difficult.”

“No. You’re difficult. Very difficult.” 

“And you’re fuckin’ annoying. Do me a favor and go back to being nice.” 

“Nope. Sorry. Pretty sure you didn’t like me then either.” You start wrapping the bandage around his knuckles, taking extra care to apply the right pressure. “And I was only nice to you because I was working, you know. I’m only actually nice to the people who deserve it.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes at that.

You finish wrapping the bandage, securing it into place with a bit of medical adhesive. All things considered, Bakugou looks better than before. Or at least, better than the death incarnate he’d been portraying himself as.

“All done.” You smile, turning away to start packing up your supplies.

“Finally. Took ya fuckin’ long enough.” 

“God, you are literally devoid of manners, aren’t you?” 

“Yeah. ‘s part of not bein’ an absolute bitch.”

You gawk, spinning around to face him. Bakugou’s relaxed into your couch, arms laid across the back leisurely as he smiles. There’s that same softness to his eyes from before, the crinkling just at the edges.

“Wow.” You scoff, smiling sarcastically. “You really think you’re so funny don’t you?” 

“I do.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Yeah. Because you’re fuckin’ brainless.”

“Brainless? Me? Swear to god, you only know, like, three words and all of them are probably swears!” 

Bakugou just shrugs, looking abnormally pleased. Content even. You figure that’s probably right for someone like him- only happy when everyone around him is devolving into chaos.

“Actually, you know what, I think I’m done yelling for the night.” You say, shucking your gloves off. You wiggle your fingers at him, a smirk plastered across your face. “I think it’s time you’re euthanized, don’t you?”

Bakugou just blinks, minutely shrinking away from you.

“Because you said you wanted me to put you to sleep, right? To put you down. Like a dog.” You continue, nearing him, coming close even as his lip curls up. Bakugou is glaring fully now, fists clenched, and you stop just a few inches out of his reach. “Or, you know, in ruder terms- not a dog, but a bitch.”

Bakugou snarls, lunging at you as you duck away. He’s fast but you’re faster, vaulting behind your couch to create some distance. There’s fire in his eyes, blazing and hot in his irises, but it isn’t scary. If you look close enough, you’re almost sure it’s just warmth. That same rare amusement from earlier.

“You leech. Swear to fuck I’ll make you regret that. Say your goddamn prayers!” 

“Touch me and you’ll fall asleep!” You tease. “Or I’ll use my quirk and see into your brain. So I guess it’s more of a ‘pick your poison’ for you, really.” 

“It’ll be the same for you.” Bakugou growls, hands grasping the back of the couch as he leans in towards you. “Open casket or closed, it’s still gonna be your fuckin’ funeral.” 

“Really?”

“Really. Leech.”

“No thanks.”

“What the fuck do you mean ‘no thanks’,” Bakugou mimics your voice, his features twisting. “I’m killing you. You’re dead. You don’t get a choice.” 

“No, I really think I do.”

“And just what the fuck makes you so goddamn confident?”

“This. You not attacking me.” You smile easily, voice daring as you stare right back at him. “If you really wanted me dead, I’d be dead. Isn’t that right, Dynamite?” 

The name sends Bakugou recoiling, shrinking backwards and scoffing in outright shock. You watch him stumble, legs hitting your coffee table and nearly causing him to fold. He recovers quickly though, albeit with his cheeks flushing wildly. 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

“Nah. Thanks for the offer though.” You smile brightly, before throwing your arms above your head and yawning widely. “As fun as that was, I’m pretty tired. You ready to fall asleep, yet?”

“Jesus fuck, yes. That’s the entire goddamn reason I’m even here. Idiot.”

“No name calling. You agreed.”

“I didn’t agree to shit.”

“You did.” You affirm. “Now, c’mon, like last time, hold your hand out.” 

With surprisingly little dramatics or resistance, Bakugou listens. He thrusts one of his bandaged hands forward as he sits on the couch again. When you touch his fingers, you feel that faint warmth again. Like fire and embers coursing through your bloodstream. It’s uncomfortable, a relentless sensation that has you cringing. You briefly wonder what it would be like to always live with it. Like Bakugou seems to. 

His eyes flutter shut just like last time, and you can see the way he staggers. It’s like the fight leaves him entirely, and then he’s falling boneless into the couch. You can hardly place a pillow onto the cushions before he’s driving his head into it.

“Jesus,” You mutter in disbelief. “How long has it been since you slept? You look dead.” 

“Weeks.” Bakugou mumbles.

“Since the last time?” 

“Mhm.”

If his words alone didn’t confirm the severity of his sleeplessness for you, his response time did. Bakugou answered quickly, without fight, like he’d been wanting to spill for the entire night. And, you suppose, maybe he did; or was trying to. In hindsight, you begin to realize a lot of his screaming could just as easily have read as cries for help- not that you’d ever tell him that. You’d probably have to prepare a will if you ever tried telling him that.

“You want a blanket?” You ask a little unsurely, not exactly confident in your approach to this entirely different Bakugou. “All you’re getting is the couch, but I could probably scrounge up a few blankets.”

Bakugou doesn’t respond. All you hear in response are tiny little snores and slow breathing. 

You find it reminds you of the last time- the way you’re reaching into a cupboard and grabbing out a blanket for him. Except this time, it’s a little bit different. Somehow you’re settling the blanket over him with a little bit of genuine kindness instead of begrudging sympathy.

After all, you can’t help but feel a little bit of pity- no one would ever fall asleep that fast unless they really needed it. Especially not in a stranger’s house. 

--/--

enjoy my lovelies :))

taglist:  @fluffyviciousbunny @definitelynottrin @imsuperawkward @i-need-air @ahbeautifulexistence @brennabooz @jazzylove @flattykawadoorusmilkbread @katsuki-bakubabe @sorrythatspussynal @bakugouswh0r3 @cloudsgathering @un-limit-edd @thekatsukisimp @pollayra21 @the2ndl @officialtrashbusiness @waffleareniceandfluffy @monempathieetmoi @koiwoshinai

[papipopsicle]

AFTERTASTE PART FIVE

Pairing: Archie Andrews X Reader

Genre: fluff and some angst

Summary: In which two best friends since childhood test whether sex and friendship can co-exist without causing conflict. Including OC's Flick and Cherry, a bisexual and lesbian in a sapphic relationship who are best friends of Y/N.

Song: Candy by Doja Cat

Warnings: swearing, minors consuming alcohol

Words: 3.6K

MASTERLIST

feedback is always appreciated

     Y/N lasted two weeks before thoughts of even throwing the bet came to mind. She had been strong so far; making sure to wear her tightest outfits and highest heels, being extra touchy-feely with Archie and not reacting to his moves in the slightest. Her personal favourite moment was sitting on his lap at the Twilight Drive-In and giving him a hard-on whilst Kevin and Betty sat next to them non the wiser.

But now, on day eighteen, she needed reinforcements. The redhead realised his attempts were failing miserably and he couldn't help his reactions to Y/N’s provocative movements. He turned it up a notch, becoming rather possessive of the five foot blonde knowing she enjoyed that side of him. He carefully walked the line of teasing and taunting like a tightrope, always whispering in her ear and letting his hand rest on her inner thigh under the table. And now, Y/N found herself wanting to pounce him whenever he caught her eye. It was getting out of hand, so she called for the only two people who could possibly help.

"Have you tried doing the bend and snap?" Cherry asked out of the blue, her head rested on her girlfriends lap as the three watched Clueless from the comfort of Felicity's bed.

"Babe," the blue haired girl said with a sigh and took a handful of M&Ms, "I love you but I don't think our answer lies in a two-thousand's rom-com."

"Hey, it worked on you, didn't it?" The brunette grinned smugly and leaned up to kiss the girl above her, earning a handful of chocolate to be launched in their direction and a disgruntled groan from the blonde sitting beside them.

Y/N pouted, "Please stop reminding me how single I am."

At this, the two girls pulled away and sent her the same bewildered look, "You wouldn't be if you told that hunky ginger you're in love with him!" Flick barked, a hand playing with the hem of her partner's shirt whilst the other flew up in desperation.

The y/h/c girl sent her friends an incredulous glare, it only growing when their shared 'you know I'm right' smile made an appearance. She took a handful of sweets and irritably shoved them in her mouth, "I am not in love with Archie Andrews... I just want his body on my body... in a variety of ways, and locations... multiple times."

"Right, so let me just get this straight," Cherry sat upright and gathered her hair over one shoulder, she paused the film and sent the petite girl a serious look, "you really think a no-strings-attached relationship can actually work? Have you even seen Friends With Benefits? It doesn't work! Sure it's all fun and games now but it's only a matter of time before one of you catches feelings and shit gets real. Then we'll have to pick sides, obviously you automatically get us, but I really liked Archie, he was promising..."

"What my gorgeous girlfriend means, is that we won't have this relationship ruined because you two can't keep it in your pants. We've put a lot of work and effort into this ship and it isn't going to waste, this isn't some TV teen drama shit, there's no need to wait until season 6 to actually be happy. Don't be Lydia and Stiles." Flick rounded up, taking the remote and pressing play.

Y/N simply sighed and slouched against the pillows, her attention turning back to the TV as she sulked, "I came here for your advice, and honestly now it feels like my moms are telling me I can't have sex with my hot best friend because they ship us too hard romantically. How can sex ruin a friendship? That's like saying extra sprinkles ruin ice cream! Anyways, none of that matters unless I win this stupid bet."

"You know Y/N/N, asking a lesbian and a bisexual whose only ever been with a girl on how to seduce a boy isn't exactly your best move." Cherry commented, snuggling under her blanket with a near-empty bowl of mini-pretzels at her side.

"My advice? Just be yourself, dumbass. Clearly for some weird reason he's into that, so it's only a matter of time until he gives in and this insanity will end. Boys think with their dicks and have a lot less will-power than us. For fucks sake, he's sprung when your name's mentioned in passing conversation, clearly he wants to bone your brains out. Wait it out, you're one stubborn chick when you want to be, you got this."

Two days later, on one rather fateful Friday night, Y/N found herself in the midst of a party thrown by none other than the Blossom twins. It had been a while since she'd spoken to either of them, but since their entire year was currently making out on the couches, the invitation wasn't all that strange. She and Betty had spent the evening getting ready whilst rocking out to the cheesiest music known to their generation. The smaller blonde wore a little red number with lace cutouts, and only managed to convince her taller friend to ditch the mom-jeans for a conservative royal blue knee-length dress. Baby steps, she told herself whilst trying her best not to cut a deeper neckline in the mass of material.

Betty Cooper had absolutely no idea what was going on between two of her three best friends; and although she'd always been silently jealous of their closeness, she was used to it and didn't think twice to question it. Y/N spritzed her neck and wrists with her favourite perfume, Daisy Dream, and gave herself a final once over in the large mirror beside her wardrobe.

With perfect timing, like some magical intuition, Y/N’s phone buzzed, notifying her their ride was outside. She grinned at the taller girl and slipped her black Louis Vuitton's on, "Ready, m'lady?"

"I-I don't know, Y/N/N." Betty panicked, wringing her hands together as a worrisome look etched onto her face, "What if my mom sees us leave? She'll kill me if she finds out we're going to a Blossom party."

"She won't. And even if she does, she'll only see us getting into a car with Cherry and Flick, just tell her they invited us over for a girl's night or something... Stop worrying about the future, and start living in the now! You look smokin', I look hot, we are not wasting my precious work on Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore again, capisce?" Y/N didn't allow even a millisecond to pass before dragging the taller girl downstairs with her where they met Polly and Ren.

The four took a few quick photos together and hightailed it out to the red convertible sitting on the edge of the drive. Polly switched places with Flick and the happy couple sat in the back on each other's lap, leaving Y/N and Betty sat beside them like two spare wheels.

When the group of girls arrived, Cheryl graciously directed them down to the basement. Thoughts of being led down to a torture chamber came to mind as the redhead opened a large squeaky door, but those died down when the smell of liquor and sound of house music hit them like a brick wall.

So now, an hour into the night, it was just Betty and Y/N standing at the side of the room with a red solo cup in hand. Polly ran off to find her beloved boyfriend as soon as she arrived and Y/S/N just so happened to find herself hitting on a nearby houseplant. 'Flicky' were playing beer pong, well cider for them, against Reggie and Moose, and were winning with only one cup standing.

The petite girl, who still stood below her friend even in four inch heels, was about to save her sister from some terrible mugshots, but a strong arm stopped her in her tracks and pulled her back into a muscly chest.

"Where'd you think you're going, gorgeous?" A deep voice breathed in her ear, and a second later she ripped herself away from the boy, instantly recognising him and wishing to be the other side of the building right now. Though her actions were quick, the brunette pinned her to the nearest wall and stared hazily into her wide chartreuse-coloured eyes. Y/N actually laughed at the irony of the location, finding it funny that the last time she was in this position it was rather enjoyable.

"Fuck off, Chuck." The girl took another sip of her drink, not bothering to pay the boy any attention because that's exactly what he wanted. Though, when his arms moved from the wall to around her waist and neck, forcing Y/N to look up at him, she felt like punching the stupid smile off his smug face. But with one hand stuck at her side and the other holding her drink, she simply settled for chucking her remaining vodka-lemonade at the boy.

He chuckled cynically and wiped his face down, eyes darkening as he pushed himself against her with even more force, "Now, now. That's no way to treat the best fuck you've ever had. Why don't we go find somewhere quiet, for old times sake." He commanded, his tone leaving no room for questioning or any form of verbal consent.

But Y/N scoffed and chucked her now empty cup at his face, "Do you really want to be known for rape, as well as leaking a fifteen year old's sex tape, that you were a part of let's not forget?"

He sighed and brought a hand up to cup her face, coarse fingers gripping her jaw achingly tight, "Y/N/N, aren't we past that? I was mad and you embarrassed me in front of the entire football team, what did you expect me to do? Can't we just forget about that?" His other arm aggressively tugged her closer, "C'mon, you know you want me, slut."

Y/N had her eyebrows raised intolerably the entire time he spoke, and when she realised this had no affect on him, she cocked her head ever so slightly. That word felt so good coming from Archie's lips weeks ago. But with Chuck's intoxicated breath panting down on her made up face, she felt completely and utterly violated, physically and mentally.

She hid the look of disgust as best as possible and simply let her best fake alluring smile grace her features; Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck and looked ever so sweetly into his darkened eyes, "Clayton, we were together for what, eight months? And somehow, in that entire time, you never made me orgasm, not even close. I feel sorry for any girl, or whoever else who has to put up with your shitty oral. Don't you ever, ever use that word against me or any other girl. Don't touch me, you do not and shall never have consent to touch my body, remember that." She smoothly spoke, her voice laced with sugar-coated venom.

Using his drunken and shocked state to her advantage, Y/N unhooked his arms and rushed off to find one particular individual. She fought through the endless crowd of teenagers and after ten minutes of searching, Archie was nowhere to be found. A light tapping on one shoulder caused the y/h/c girl to spin on her heels, ready to slap a bitch if it were another jock.

But thankfully it wasn't, and Y/N let out a sigh of relief when her eyes found Betty's figure. She took her taller friend by the arms and asked, "Have you seen Archie at all? There's three fucking gingers at this party and I can only spot two."

"Last time I saw him he was in line for the bathroom, and that was around five minutes ago." The taller blonde said, peering down at her friend in concern as a hand smoothed down her signature ponytail instinctively, "Is there anything I can help with?"

Betty's question almost flew right past her as she searched for the toilet queue, but thankfully she managed to make out a few words, and quickly put two and two together. Y/N shook her head and finally looked at her friend, "It's alright, but one of us is about to lose a bet, I'll tell you who once I find out."

Betty's expression contorted at that, and she began to feel an uneasiness settling in the pit of her stomach. The Cooper girl did her best to hide her jealousy along with her crush on Archie. She'd always viewed Y/N as the unwanted cog in the machine, but as the months went on she couldn't help but feel like a spare part.

With that, the petite girl marched off and soon found herself pushing through throngs of her drunken classmates until a head of fiery-red hair poked up above the crowd. He was joking and laughing with Reggie, both wearing giddy smiles whilst sipping from from their cups every so often.

Y/N was used to being easily knocked, because she was so tiny in relation to the 6 foot something masses of muscle she called her friends, so it came as no surprise when someone practically rammed her right into the middle of the boys' conversation. Luckily, being the gentleman he was, Archie's arm instinctively wrapped around her waist to steady her toppling body. Their chatting ceased and it took Reggie no less than a second to start talking to someone else, leaving the red-haired boy looking down in confusion at his best friend.

"You okay there, Tiger?" He asked, gingerly hooking a few strands of her y/h/c hair behind her ear, making Y/N crane her neck up to watch him intently for a moment. She bit down on her lower lip and let out an intoxicated little giggle, "My knight in shining armour, however will I repay you?"

Archie breathed out a deep chuckle and smirked, "I can think of a few ways..." he all but muttered. Y/N’s thoughts flickered back to just moments ago in the lull of silence, and that was all the boy needed to lead her out of the packed basement. He saw the look confliction in her eyes, not quite understanding it, "has something else happened, Y/N/N?"

"Do you remember last spring, when I finally broke it off with Chuck... and then he, you know?" She tried to clarify, but her words wavered and fell short.

"Released a video of you two without your consent and only got suspended for a week?" Archie almost growled his voice felt so heavy. He hated remembering their relationship. Not only because he wanted Y/N to be only his, but because he was forced to see his best friend humiliated and heartbroken all at the same time and couldn't stop it.

"That's the one." The girl looked down, unable to meet his eyes as her mind raced back to one of the darkest weeks of her life. But she pulled herself away from the horrible memories, "Look, it happened and I can't change that, but I really don't want to be around him right now."

"We'll go back to mine right now, Tiger." Archie affirmed with his hand now cupping her made up face, bringing her gaze back to his own.

"Woah, didn't realise you two were a thing." A slurring Reggie turned back around and winked at the pair with his usual cheeky smile, "Don't worry, I won't tell."

Y/N giggled and hiccuped at the same time, "Fuck off, Reg."

"Hey, if you hurt her, Andrews, I'll knock you into next year." The Asian boy only partly joked with his best friend.

The Robins girl pulled herself away from the wall and wrapped her arms around Reggie, "My hero!"

"Yeah, yeah." He hugged her back, not too hard though as in his drunken state he was scared he might snap her in half with all his muscular might. "I love you too, Y/N/N."

She gave him a sweet peck on the cheek before returning to Archie's side, clasping his hand in her own and leading the both of them away from the raucous party. Nobody seemed to notice in their happy little haze, even if they did, most people assumed the two were sleeping together anyway.

"Does it bother you at all?" Y/N small voice called as they walked down the narrow roads back home. She didn't know whether the answer would be something she wanted to hear, but it had been bothering her for the past minute or so.

Archie's brows furrowed, slightly more sober and completely not understanding his companion's train of thought, "Does what bother me?"

"That people assume so much about us? That we're sleeping together? That we're a couple?" She pondered.

"Not unless it's something that puts you in a negative light, otherwise I really couldn't care less about other people's opinions. Everyone has them, but the only ones that matter to me are my friends and my family's." Archie reassured her.

Y/N giggled at her own joke, "I thought you were going to say they're like assholes?"

The boy looked at her incredulously.

"Everybody has one." She grinned and wrapped her arm around his waist as his own found its way to her shoulders, pulling her into his warmth. The rest of the walk was silent after that, cool summers air bringing an ease to Y/N's tipsy frame. Twenty minutes must have gone by before they saw the Andrews' household finally in view, it was anything but awkward though. Their hands clasped swinging between them, the girl's feet beginning to ache from the regrettable choice of five inch heels.

They shared giggles and passing comments that wouldn't make sense the next morning, gleeful smiles hanging from cheek to cheek. Before Archie had the chance to hunt for his key, the front door opened with Fred sending the two teenagers a short look of annoyance.

"Get in already." He rolled his tired eyes, not wanting to question why his son's best friend was currently looking up at him with hidden adoration as she slipped off her shoes.

Y/N hiccuped and sent the adult an apologetic smile, "Sorry if we woke you, Freddie."

"I couldn't sleep anyway, kid, don't worry about it." Fred gave her a kind smile and felt her small frame hug his own. He returned it as always and after a few moments, let the teenagers carry on upstairs. The girl immediately went into the bathroom and found her small bottle of cleanser under the sink, removing her heavy make up before returning to her best friends room.

Y/N couldn't help but gawk at the sight her eyes were greeted with, the redheads body clad with tight boxers with his warm bedside lamp lighting the room, and his muscular build, perfectly. Her hands lightly traced his back, making Archie jump before leaning into her touch.

"I'm still going to win this bet," She whispered, shutting the bedroom door and pulling the boy down to his bed with her, "but Arch, can I ask you something?"

Y/N's head nearly reached the wall as the redhead towered over her, hot breath tickling her skin while he rest himself against her without putting any weight down. "Of course." The words floated from his lips so easily, knowing his whole life he'd do anything or answer whatever she wanted.

"Do you think we're meant to be more than friends? I think I've finally realised it's not that we were never and will never be romantic in each other's minds, it's always been that way but we've just never really known." The Robins girl seemed so sure of her words, staring up into his amber eyes with so much honest admiration.

He watched her for what felt like forever, not knowing whether it was the alcohol in them both or just that the little game they were playing didn't matter anymore, and decided to throw that away. A short gasp fell from Y/N's lips as Archie caught them, rolling over and pulling her on top of his chest.

"You're right, I've always wanted us to be more than friends Y/N/N, ever since Leonardo went missing when we were in sixth grade and you kissed my cheek when I found him." Archie propped himself up and returned that same gesture. She stole a kiss but he didn't let it end, running his fingers through her curled blonde hair.

"Arch?" Her small voice called out, sitting atop of his torso still in her revealing red dress. He nodded back with the biggest smile, unable to control the pure joy as her next words tumbled into the world, "Will you be my boyfriend?"

"I don't have a choice, since I lost the bet, do I?" He mocked, smile not falling as she hit his chest and rolled her eyes. "Yes, of course, yes, I'll be your boyfriend."

PART SIX

[silenthillmutual]

what Classic Film(TM) you should watch based on who your fave Danganronpa 1/2 character is

disclaimer - obviously as a film dude i’m gonna say you should watch all of these. but maybe watch the one correlating to your fave first!

Makoto: 12 Angry Men (1957, dir. Sidney Lumet) - strong themes of justice, it’s about a jury trying to determine a man’s guilt. it’s basically what Makoto does for the entire game. you’ll also like it if you’re a fan of Phoenix Wright.

Sayaka: A Star is Born (1954, dir. George Cukor) - it’s all about a girl’s rise to fame and how her relationships change with that. there’s three versions of this film, most recently with Lady Gaga. 

Mukuro: Vertigo (1958, dir. Alfred Hitchcock) - themes of murder and hiding your identity, losing yourself to a cause.

Leon: Animal House (1978, dir. John Landis) - a comedy about a fraternity. it’s THE college frat movie and i think Leon would enjoy it a lot.

Chihiro: WarGames (1983, dir. John Badham) - two teenagers might have accidentally started a world war during the cold war by trying to play computer games...fitting for the series, no?

Mondo: On the Waterfront (1954, dir. Elia Kazan) - struggling to do the right thing and being sort of frustrated about your circumstances as they pertain to class and missed opportunities. being dragged into bad situations by family. also Marlon Brando is a bicon and very hot in this movie.

Taka: Rebel Without a Cause (1955, dir. Nicholas Ray) - a lot of turbulent shit happens to three teenagers over the course of 24 hours. one of - if not the first canonically gay teenager on film. i think we all know by now that James Dean was mlm, but so were the director and Sal Mineo. big bi polyam vibes; if you like chishimondo as a ship you’ll probably like this film too.

Hifumi: Akira (1988, dir. Katsuhiro Otomo) - had a hard time figuring out what to put for Hifumi, but overall i think if nothing else he’d appreciate how impressive the animation was (and honestly, still is) along with the fact that the mangaka was also the director. so although there’s a lot cut out (the manga had not finished before the film came out), it’s still roughly the same plot as the manga.

Celes: Dracula (1931, dir. Tod Browning) - probably the most iconic iteration of Bram Stoker’s novel, this is the one staring Bela Lugosi. not terribly true to the novel from what i remember, but it’s peak aesthetic and exactly the kind of thing she’d enjoy.

Sakura: Rashomon (1950, dir. Akira Kurosawa) - finally getting onto films i haven’t actually seen but that are on my list. sakura’s another person i had a hard time deciding on a film for, but the “several characters telling different accounts of the same plot” reminded me a bit of her case in the game. 

Hina: West Side Story (1961, dir. Robert Wise & Jerome Robbins) - admittedly i had a different film in mind for her to start with, but Maria’s final monologue fits with Hina’s motivations during Sakura’s case.

Toko: Gone With the Wind (1939, dir. Victor Fleming) - another one i haven’t actually watched yet, but it’s based on a famous novel, described as “epic historical romance.” i think that vibes with Toko pretty well.

Byakuya: Citizen Kane (1941, dir. Orson Welles) - if you’re really interested in film, you’re gonna be made to watch this sooner or later. famous for being the “best film ever made”, it’s more or less about newspaper moguls like William Randolph Hearst - who is also the main reason why this film is famous at all. it’s not exactly a flattering depiction of those kinds of people and boy, did that ever piss Hearst off. if he hadn’t made such a big deal trying to keep Citizen Kane from seeing the light of day, something much better might have made it to the top spot. 

Hiro: The Music Man (1962, dir. Morton DaCosta) - based on the Broadway musical of the same name, a “travelling salesman” (read: con artist) starts to work his latest con on a gullible small town, but actually starts liking the people in it.

Kyoko: The Man Who Knew Too Much (1956, dir. Alfred Hitchcock) - not to be confused with the other Hitchcock film from the 30s also titled The Man Who Knew Too Much. this is the one with James Stewart and Doris Day. it’s a highly suspenseful film that gave us the song “Que Sera, Sera (Whatever Will Be, Will Be)”.

Junko: Gaslight (1944, dir. George Cukor) - ever heard the term “gaslighting”? this is where it comes from! based on a play in which a woman’s husband psychologically tortures her into believing she is going insane.

Monokuma: Duck Soup (1933, dir. Leo McCarey) - all Marx Brothers films are as utterly silly (and sometimes as incomprehensible) as one of Monokuma’s MonoTheatres. i watched about half of Duck Soup and had to stop because it was finals week and i was supposed to be doing something other than losing my shit.

Hajime: It’s a Wonderful Life (1946, dir. Frank Capra) - you probably already know this film. if you’re Christian you know it as That Film Your Parents Watch Every Year On Dec 24th Around Midnight. if you have seasonal depression, don’t watch it then; warning for suicidal ideation. it’s supposed to be uplifting. your mileage may vary on that one. 

Impostor: To Kill a Mockingbird (1962, dir. Robert Mulligan) - i don’t have a good reason to pair these two up other than gut feeling. as far as film adaptations of books go, it’s pretty damn good, and Atticus Finch is the original DILF. themes of childhood innocence and racism. 

Teruteru: Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961, dir. Blake Edwards) - apparently much different from the novella on which it is based, but i think Teruteru would really dig the aesthetic and romantic vibes of the film. Holly Golightly is probably the original Manic Pixie Dream Girl.

Mahiru: Rear Window (1954, dir. Alfred Hitchcock) - like It’s a Wonderful Life, chances are good you know this film - or at least, you’ve seen its plot recycled a hell of a lot. a professional photographer recovering from a broken leg thinks he witnesses a murder take place and is determined to get to the truth.

Peko: Seven Samurai (1954, dir. Akira Kurosawa) - another one on my to-watch list, but it’s oft referenced and remade in film. a village hires seven ronin to protect them from bandits who will return to steal their crops. 

Hiyoko: East of Eden (1955, dir. Elia Kazan) - i’ll be honest here, i didn’t really know what to put for Hiyoko because i’m not sure i understand much about her, but i seem to remember her family playing a pretty big role in her being Like That and for “shitty family” the first two things to come to mind were this and Giant. and unless you like 3-hour long movies about the state of Texas, i’m not about to recommend you watch Giant.

Ibuki: A Night at the Opera (1935, dir. Sam Wood) - another Marx Bros film in which they help a girl both to be with her lover and to achieve her dreams of stardom as an opera singer. the kind of silly, manic thing i think Ibuki would like.

Mikan: The Shining (1980, dir. Stanley Kubrick) - i hate hate hate putting this on here, but since this is for film and not books i couldn’t exactly state to read the book. the book is about the cycle of abuse. the movie is more about... a trapped man going crazy in a spooky hotel. 

Nekomaru: It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World (1963, dir. Stanley Kramer) - comedy about five groups of people racing to get to a large sum of money buried by a recently escaped convict they stopped to help out after his car crash. it’s a comedy, and just kinda seemed like Nekomaru’s thing.

Gundham: The Seventh Seal (1957, dir. Ingmar Bergman) - i watched this in like 10th grade and all i really remember is a man playing chess with Death and if that doesn’t say Gundham Tanaka to you, i don’t know what does.

Nagito: North by Northwest (1959, dir. Alfred Hitchcock) - i don’t really have a reason for this one either but it’s a spy film and i think komaeda could get behind that kind of intrigue. 

Chiaki: Metropolis (1927, dir. Fritz Lang) - not to be confused with the anime, this is a 1927 German expressionist film that seems to be about socialism and unionization. it’s also famous for its (purposeful) use of the Male Gaze and being one of the first sci-fi films ever made. be warned: it is a silent film.

Sonia: Strangers on a Train (1951, dir. Alfred Hitchcock) - another one of those films you’ll get told to watch if you’re interested in the queer history of film, i was gonna put something else but honestly the character of Barbara kinda reminded me of Sonia. a famous tennis player meets a man on a train who attempts to plan a double-murder with him.

Akane: My Fair Lady (1964, dir. George Cukor) - i was trying so hard not to double up on the post about musicals, but Akane really does have Eliza Doolittle vibes. they’re both feral and nothing would be able to really domesticate them. for whatever it’s worth, this film and the musical on which it is based is itself based on the play Pygmalion, in which your typical rich cishet white dude bets he can turn any street urchin into a real lady because he’s just that good. you might know the plot better as Pretty Woman.

Kazuichi: A Streetcar Named Desire (1951, dir. Elia Kazan) - i don’t really have a good excuse for this one, either; i haven’t even watched it yet (although i have read the play on which it is based). all i’m gonna say is i want Souda to have his gay awakening via Marlon Brando, as we all do.

Fuyuhiko: Casablanca (1942, dir. Michael Curtiz) - despite his love and adoration for Ingrid Bergman, Humphrey Bogart decides fighting Nazis is more important. i think Fuyuhiko would like the aesthetic, and the film. don’t let him know but i think he’d probably cry watching it.

Usami: To Sir, With Love (1967, dir. James Clavell) - issues of race and class intersecting in a film about a teacher working with inner city students. i was going to put Singin’ in the Rain here, because it’s what Usami would want people to watch...but i think this better fits the effect she wants to have as a being. 

[editorialsonlife]

hello tumblr world its been a while since there’s been a proper update here so prepare for a dump and a half my friends because the last few weeks have been a fun trip (and that’s not even including the bloody US elections OMG)

we went to hawkes bay, so that was a good time. NOT. we turned up late because we slept in which was a great time. and also very fortuante because we arrived and no one came out to say hello which is terrible weird. So we start unloading the car and walking to the door and paul eventually emerged and was like, oh your mother’s just taking a nap we’re a bit tired. we only got home from the hospital an hour ago’. alaring for several reasons. 

the last couple of times this has happened, dave’s grandma died, his grandfather died, paul was in hospital for a suspected heart attack, paul had a heart attack & was flown to wellington for emergency surgery. let alone all the other family dramas in the intervening times. 

so it turns out that she threw her back out badly, fell over, and ended up in hospital when they couldn’t get on top of the pain with their sizable drug haul (pharmacist families man). didn’t think to text or call or give us a heads up in any way. when I asked why they wouldn’t text the response was, and I quote “Well she wasn’t dying so we didn’t think it was important’. like, fucking wow bitches. 

She couldn’t move without crying and groaning like she was in labour, she couldn’t move without a walker, she was on morphine, coedine, steroids and antiinflammatories, and still fucking miserable. 

poor dave was so stressed out. it was actually just a fucking horrible weekend. a) seeing another human in that much pain who utterly refused to do anything about it and still is

b) not being told the full story about whats going on, although I did read her medical discharge notes when they were both asleep 

c) seeing poor fucking dave stressed to shit because who the fuck knows whats going on and that’s his mum hes watching in so much pain. 

it was fucking horrible. never again. and walking into it with no warning was just the shittest thing of all. 

I was so fucking angry when we got home. like, ridiculous. I’m still raging tbh. guess who’s place we’re not going to for christmas?? 

So that was our five days of leave, and our holiday, once again shat all over (at least it wasn’t covid this time?!?)

got home on monday evening and went to send an email to work to be like hey homies not showing up tomorrow, need a day to recover to find out I had a client meeting at 830 the next morning I had to attend which was so  hard to get through. here, let’s pitch for 80k of work which isn’t going to solve any of your problems? why not. it makes me so mad. SO MAD. 

rolled through that and our team meeting and a colleague was like how are you doing? just about burst into tears so I peaced out of there. turned up to counselling on thursday, didnt even make it into the room and anne was like, you seem angry? I was like, mmmmm no, don’t think angry quite covers it mate. so that was great. 

got to last weekend, was meant to be meeting friends for brunch but there was a massive crash on the motorway so we ended up driving somewhere else which was an hour each way so that basically ruined the day but it was a lovely brunch anyway, had a great time. best smashed avo and lots of cuddles with little miss izz who is not so little anymore but so gorgeous!! Had a great day on sunday, finished off a bunch of work (yes, work is insanely busy right now, such fun, will be working again this weeked), got heaps of planting done, mowed the lawns, hung my artwork, finally felt like I was back on a happy even keel (fuck life is nice not having permanent anxiety) only to be sitting in a meeting on monday afternoon to find out homegrown is on the same day as our wedding. the second wedding since the first one was cancelled. 

I pretty much just lost my shit. honestly. why is it so fucking hard to just organise something to celebrate being married. legit feel like the universe is just fucking with us at the moment and like, did we even make the right decision doing all of this? because every time we try and do something it gets fucked over and its v stressful. and yes i know we’re lucky to be covid free and be able to plan these safely and everything else but like, honestly. I’m so over it. every holiday this year has been fucked over, the wedding was done, the family reaction was so shit, like, its just ridiculous. the worst part was I came home in rage mode and dave came home in problem solving mode and was like, we can fix this and like, yeah, i know we can, but like, I’m fucking sick of making do. It’s meant to be one of the best days of our lives, and we’re already onto plan fucking c for it, and just like, I’m done with it? I’m just done. I cannot be assed. I don’t want to email everyone, I don’t want to reschedule all this shit, I don’t want to reorganise all my hair appointments, I don’t want to have to worry about the weather and rebooking it all and dealing with all this fucking shit. I’m so done. I’ve done it twice already I don’t want to do it again. RAGE. anyway. survived monday night, the week did not get any better, work got worse, and the PMS hit fucking hard yesterday. cried before work, cried at the stupid 8am meeting, cried turning up to anne and was like, I have an hour to get this all out of my system before client meetings in the afternoon. 

and hot damn, god bless best friends, because bish messaged me and was like, lets do lunch homie, so we went to the botanic gardens and sat there and had the most insane conveersation ranking the best flavours of shapes, then biscuits, then crackers. and honestly, it was the pointless, best, most lighthearted discussion and everything I needed and I love her so much. 

all I can say now is thank fucking god it’s friday, and its the weekend, and we have zero plans beyond going to mitre 10. I’m gunna order all my christmas presents online this weekend adn get that out of the way. need to do a couple of laods of washing, hopefully only like 6 hours of work, but like, it’s gunna be chill. and I’m v relieved. 

she’s been a bit of a nightmare. 

HOWEVER

despite all this complaining, looking back on where I was a year ago, like fuck me i am in so much of a better place mentally and life is just so much better. I’m so relieved. and period binge aside, physically I’m getting better too so I’m gunna take it all as a massive win. week in adn week out its been a grind, and it’s been uncomfortable and hard and horrible at times but man, coming out the other side is such a relief. having capacity to do things like supporting a friend through her current nightmare and managing dave and dealing with all the work stress makes such a fucking difference honestly. it’s also nice to feel like I can manage myself better so I can look after everyone else better too. 

Feeling v grateful for this little life of mine, and the people in it, and for being in this little corner of the world. I don’t know how I got so lucky, but I am so so so so so grateful for it. 

[onlycags]

Predictions | Çağlar Söyüncü

Word Count: 2,263 Rating: T Description: You and Madders have a longstanding competition.

- - - It was a stupid game you and Madders had started when he had begun playing professionally for Coventry City. It was a stupid game that you lost almost every single time, but every once in a while when you did win, that adrenaline fueled you to keep playing.

Now that Mads was playing in the Prems, your chances of winning had greatly increased along with the number of matches he played.

The rules of the game had started out simple enough: Guess the outcome of the game - win, lose, or draw. If you were right, Madders had to complete whatever task you set for him; if you were wrong, he picked a task for you. Neither of you told the other what the task was going to be.Once he started playing Premier League, he had decided that the rules had to change, and you agreed. He gained a much larger fanbase, and you had big plans to make him do dumb shit on Instagram for your own enjoyment. This was where the rules got significantly harder. Now, not only did you have to guess the outcome, there were two other factors: if James would score and if he was in the starting eleven. If you got all three right, you could make Madders do something stupid on social media;  if you got two, he had to do something embarrassing in front of his teammates; one or none right meant that he got to pick your task.

It was matchday against Liverpool, and you were vibrating with energy as you typed out your predictions. You had to get your predictions in before noon on matchdays, and you had almost missed your window.

You: Sorry! Got distracted while cleaning my flat and almost forgot!

You: Predictions for today: Liverpool wins (sorry) You don’t score (sorry again) You’re in the Starting XI

You: Good luck! Love you!

~~~

James looked down at his phone on the bus ride to Anfield and chuckled to himself. Chilly nudged him on the shoulder, and he handed his phone off for Ben to read. “I hate to admit it, but [Y/N] might be right about this one.”

“Mate, don’t say that! I know the two of you have been cooking up something crazy for the next time she gets all three right,” Madders glared at him, causing Chilly to bust out laughing.

“Ooh, did the predictions come in?” Barnes asked, turning around.

“Yeah. She’s got us losing, I don’t score, and I start.”

“Damn. I’m glad my friends have more faith in me than she does. HEY!” Harvey yelled as Ben ruffled his hair.

“Predictions?” Çağlar asked, taking a seat across the aisle. Madders reiterated it, and the Turk smiled to himself. Like the rest of the team, he enjoyed hearing your predictions, but he liked you in general. Unfortunately, he had gotten drunk with Chilly and Madders one evening and confessed his feelings for you. Ever since then, the two of them had been conspiring to get him to ask you out. It wasn’t that Çağlar was lacking in confidence - that, he had in spades - it was just that his English wasn’t as good as he had hoped it would be yet and he didn’t want to fuck it up and make a fool of himself.

The bus came to a stop and the players filed out, mentally preparing for the press.

James’s phone vibrated with an incoming text as he walked into Anfield flanked by Çağlar and Chilly.

You: ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!

“I take it she just found out you’re not starting today, huh?” Chilly commented as James passed his phone over.

“Thanks for being on my side for once, Mate,” Madders said solemnly, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t help you win this thing once in a while?”

Madders chuckled. “What’d you tell her?”

“I kept up the rouse that your calf was still a bit painful after training last week.”

“Nice.”

~~~

Three hours later, you were screaming at your telly, torn between wanting your predictions to be true and having Leicester be the first team to beat Liverpool in over a year. You had already lost two of your predictions: Madders hadn’t started, but then he was subbed in during the 63rd minute and had a goal within five minutes which put Leicester ahead, 2-1. There were still fifteen minutes - not including stoppage - to go in the second half, but at this rate, Leicester was set to win and you were already going to have to do whatever James had planned for you.

You cheered as Ben made a decisive pass to Vardy, who put it into the net with ease. 3-1 now. Seven minutes to go.

The officials added three minutes of stoppage time to the clock, and your heart was in your throat. Liverpool had scored just moments earlier, putting it at 3-2. They were playing hard and fast, desperately wanting at least a draw, but Leicester was holding them off, determined to keep all three points.

The final whistle blew and you cheered. This match was going to go down in the history books. Dread set in as you finally realized James was going to make you do something insane, probably ending with you making out with some random guy in whatever bar the guys wanted to celebrate at tonight.

~~~

Four hours later, you were putting the finishing touches on your makeup for the night out. Madders had messaged you the details on the bus ride back to Leicester so you had enough time to get ready.

You took a look at yourself in the full-length mirror in your bedroom and smiled at your reflection. You looked hot if you were honest - your black leggings hugged your curves in all the right places; the Foxes-blue crop top showing just a sliver of skin; completing the look with your favourite ankle boots.

Twenty minutes later, you arrived at the pub, ready to celebrate. You found Chilly first, laughing in delight as he scooped you up in an overzealous hug. “I’m so proud of you guys!” You shouted as Chilly set you down.

“Thank you, [Y/N]!”

“We were pretty brilliant, weren’t we?” Madders asked, handing you your favourite drink.

“I’m upset that I lost this game of predictions, but I’m so glad that this was the match I was wrong about.” You took a sip of your drink, enjoying the fruity flavours as they mixed together. “What dumb thing do you have planned for me?”

Chilly and Madders shared a look that scared you. “Make Cags jealous.”

Your pulse pounded so loudly in your ears that you weren’t sure you had heard James correctly. “What?”

“Make Çağlar jealous,” Chilly repeated, gesturing over to where the Turk stood at the bar waiting for a drink. As if he knew you were looking, Çağlar’s eyes met yours and he smiled.

You looked at the two of them incredulously. “How?”

“However you like.” Madders replied, smiling cheekily.

“This is utterly ridiculous! Çağlar isn’t into me like that, and even if he was, why would you want me to toy with his feelings like that?”

“One: he is into you ‘like that’. Two, Cags is more of an action man than a words man. He’s making great progress on his English but he doesn’t have all the vocabulary he would like to ask you out.” Ben responded as though it was common knowledge.

You rolled your eyes. “How, exactly, do you propose that I make him jealous?”

Madders winked at you. “That’s up to you, Love.”

“I hate you,” you grumbled, downing your drink and making your way over to the bar. Once there, you nudged Çağlar to get his attention. “Hey,” you greeted, signaling the bartender for a refill.

“Hi,” he responded, smiling down at you.

“Great match today. You were amazing out there.”

“Thank you.” You swore you saw him blush, but he had looked away before you got the chance to confirm it.

The bartender gave you and Çağlar your drinks at the same time and you laughed at the look of disbelief on Çağlar’s face. “How?” He asked incredulously.

You shrugged. “Because I’m hot, I come here a lot, and Joey’s had a crush on me for months now.” You blew the bartender a kiss to emphasize your point, smirking in triumph as he ducked his head shyly.

Çağlar made a noise you couldn’t quite place but felt all the way down to your toes. Absentmindedly, you grabbed him by the wrist, dragging him back over to where the team was celebrating. He sat down next to you, his thigh touching yours.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a guy staring at you from the bar. He threw you a wink and a smile, which you returned for fun. He was cute - not really your type, as your type was currently sitting next to you - but if it was going to make Çağlar jealous, you were certainly going to try.

One of the female wait staff came around, placing a replenished version of your current drink in front of you. “From the gentleman at the bar,” she explained at your questioning look. You noticed Çağlar’s grip on his glass tighten as you raised the new drink up to the cute guy who had bought it for you.

“Be right back,” you murmured to Ben and James, purposefully ignoring the cheeky looks they were giving you.

Taking your new drink, you made your way over to the bar for the second time that night, determined to only flirt with this man until Çağlar made a move, you got bored, or the man got handsy.

“Thank you for the drink,” you greeted him, placing an innocent hand on his arm.

“Anything for the beautiful woman hanging out with my favourite team. I’m sure you’re probably with one of them, but I figured I had to try.”

You smiled. “A valiant effort, and honesty which I admire. I’m actually on a dare to make one of them jealous, and I could use your help if you’re willing.” It was a long shot but the guy seemed trustworthy and you knew Joey would step in if he wasn’t.

“You’ve already made my evening just coming over for a chat,” he mused, taking a swig of his beer. “I’ll do it if I can get an autograph from James Maddison.”

“One moment,” you said, pulling out your phone and shooting a quick text to Madders explaining the situation. He replied just as quickly. “James will be over to get you your autograph if you’re able to get Çağlar to come over here and, as he texted, ‘kiss me senseless’.”

The man laughed. “Deal. I’m Brian, by the way,” he introduced himself, holding out his hand.

“[Y/N],” you replied, shaking his hand.

***

Çağlar watched you interact with the man at the bar, his stomach tied in knots. He muttered to himself in Turkish, cursing the man who was talking to you and putting his hands on you.

“You okay, mate?” Madders asked, sharing a smirk with Chilly at the Turk’s glare.

Wordlessly, Çağlar chugged his beer, slamming the empty glass down on the table. He stood up and made his way over to you, a determined look on his face.

You had just laughed at something Brian had said, throwing your head back and putting a hand on his arm. Your eyes met Çağlar’s, going wide at his expression.

He placed a hand on your arm, leaned in a growled, “Come with me.”

You smiled at Brian in triumph and he returned the gesture. “Just a moment, Çağlar. I’m having a discussion with Brian here.” You pulled out your phone and texted Madders, who made his way over, while you let Çağlar lead you out to the patio. “What’s wrong?” You asked, painting an innocent look on your face.

In seconds, you were flush against him, his lips on yours. Your hands gripped his biceps, sliding up to wrap around his neck and tangle in his hair. His calloused hands slipped underneath your crop top, making you moan.

“That is what was wrong,” he murmured, his breathing labored.

You dragged him back down for another kiss, needing more. “I did not like watching you with that guy at the bar. I have wanted you for a while, and-” You cut him off with another kiss, not sure how you were ever going to get enough of him.

“Ben and James told me you were into me, but I didn’t believe them.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, making you shiver at the intimate gesture. “Çok güzelsin,” he whispered. You are very beautiful.

The two of you walked back inside, hand-in-hand. A round of applause and catcalls from Madders greeted the two of you as you made your way back to the table. You ducked your head, embarrassed but loving the attention. “We’ve been waiting for the two of you to get together!” Madders yelled, making everyone laugh. “Congrats on finishing your dare!”

Çağlar looked at you confused. “What was the dare?”

“Make you jealous. Chilly and Madders were plotting to get us together on their timeline.”

Çağlar drew you in for another kiss, loving that he could do that with you now. “I would be mad, but it got me you much faster than English.”

You smiled, leaning into his side. “You can speak Turkish to me anytime, babe.”

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

The Black Swan

Chapter 14

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Word count: 6745

Chapter: 14/17 (All chapters)

Summary: Simon brings what he's found to the lake, and has a plan to fix it all.

Read on AO3

AN: Hey, so my essay has been kicking my ass. Editing this has been a nice break. Hope you guys like this :)

———————————————

Simon hopped off the dirt wall. Much to his surprise, and slight disappointment, Baz wasn’t there waiting for him. Instead, Baz was standing in front of the lake with his back to Simon. He was waving the wand like a conductor's baton, making water dance in slow streams in front of him. The swans on the lake were honking loudly in confusion.

“Calm down, all of you,” Baz said, exasperated but also amused. “It’s just some magic, you panicky little twits.” They kept honking, flapping their large white wings. “Gods, once again, I wish you all could actually understand me when I’m human.”

Simon’s heart was melting out of his chest and dribbling into his boots. He straightened his bag straps over both his shoulders and walked towards Baz. He put his arms around Baz’s waist, and after weeks of this, Baz didn’t even flinch when he did. He simply leaned his head back on Simon’s shoulder, sighing against his ear.

“Good evening, love,” he purred. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Hi,” Simon replied. “How are you?”

“I’m good. Working on water spells, I think I’m getting better.” He made a figure eight motion, and the water followed perfectly. It still wasn’t as smooth as his fire work but it was certainly improving. In almost three weeks, he was doing better than most first year mage students after six months. Simon was so damn proud.

He squeezed Baz’s waist. “You’re doing amazing.”

Baz turned his head and pressed his cool lips to Simon’s cheek. “Thank you, darling. How are you doing?”

Simon subtly gulped, and realised he was holding Baz a bit tighter without thinking. “Yeah, uh, actually, I have to talk to you about something...and we should probably sit down for it.”

The water in the air immediately dropped with a resounding splash. The swans squawked very angrily at Baz. Simon had no idea if swans could say curse words, but if they could, they’d probably sound like that. Baz was completely stiff in Simon’s embrace. He lowered his wand hand slowly, arm ramrod straight. Simon couldn’t see Baz’s face, but he had a feeling he looked very, very cold.

“Baz? What’s wrong?”

“Simon,” he said, voice like the most biting frost, “if you’re going to end this, I’d prefer you just get it over with.”

“What?! No, no!” He dashed in front of Baz. Heartbreakingly, Baz’s face was stone, completely neutral and unfeeling. Simon hated when Baz looked like this, like a complete statue. He cupped his sharp cheeks. “No, Baz, I’m not ending us. I promise, I’m not.” Baz still looked unconvinced. Simon held him tighter. “Baz, it’s...it’s about your family. I think I found out who they are, who you were, before here.”

Baz’s face went from stone to complete shock with a twinge of happiness. His free hand flew up to grip Simon’s arm a bit too tight. “Really? You’re serious?”

“Yeah. I promise. I make jokes but I wouldn’t joke about this, Baz.” They both chuckled, and Simon felt incredibly relieved. But...he still had to tell him. “You’re going to want to sit down though.”

Baz furrowed his brows. It was painfully adorable, but Simon couldn’t get distracted. “Okay, if you say so.”

They sat down together, simultaneously crossing their legs, knees touching. Simon put his rucksack in his lap. He took many deep breaths. Baz was looking at him very strangely, almost on this side of amused. Simon hoped he would still look at him like that after.

“So, uh,” Simon said, “I looked through the mage family records, but couldn’t find anything. But then I went to the back, and I-I found this weird room, and I found, well, this.”

Simon pulled the portrait out of his bag and shoved it at Baz. He was a bit taken aback, but still took the painting from him. He scanned over it carefully, analysing like Penny did with it too. Simon felt his palms get more sweaty with every passing second. But Baz didn’t shout or cry or anything. He just looked perplexed.

“Okay,” he said, “it’s a nice portrait. I’m not sure why you’re showing it to me though.”

Simon tried to suppress a groan. It wasn’t Baz’s fault. Simon hadn’t explained, but he wasn’t looking forward to doing it. He barely knew how to start. He leaned up on his knees, pointing at the people in the picture. “This is, uh, the royal family, before David and me. That’s actually Queen Natasha Grimm-Pitch, the author you love.”

Baz’s lips quirked up. “Oh. It’s good to finally put a face to the admired name.”

“Y-Yeah. And that,” he moved his finger to the little boy, “is her son, her only child, Prince Tyrannus Grimm-Pitch. They both, uh, they died a long time ago.”

“Well, that’s morose. Still don’t know why you’re telling me about them. Or how they have anything to do with my family. Am I some distant cousin of royalty? That would be interesting.”

Simon took a very long, very deep breath. He needed to muster up every ounce of courage he had for this. Because he was scared, he was worried, he didn’t want Baz to be mad at him. But in the end, this wasn’t about him. This was about Baz. His future, his family, his escape from this hell. And he wanted to know he had people who missed him.

“Baz,” he said firmly, “I think you’re Prince Tyrannus.”

For a long, long moment, the only sound was the wind whistling in the trees and the swans softly paddling the water. Simon kept his eyes squeezed shut at first. He needed to centre himself, make sure he was calm before talked to Baz again. He had to be Baz’s rock in this insane storm. But once he was ready, he slowly opened his eyes, and looked at Baz. And well, Simon didn’t know what else he expected.

Baz looked completely, utterly, shellshocked. His face was frozen somewhere between bewilderment and horror. He gripped the frame so hard Simon feared he’d snap it in half under his incredible strength. Baz’s breathing became more and more shallow, as if his lungs were becoming smaller with every passing second. Simon almost reached out to touch him, but it felt like touching a wild bear, unpredictable and possibly deadly. He waited for Baz to speak first. It felt like Baz’s place to break the tension, when he was ready.

“Simon,” he finally whispered, “if this is the actual joke, it’s not very funny.”

“It’s not a joke!” Simon put a hand on his knee, bear danger be damned. He shouldn’t be afraid of Baz. “I’m serious, Baz. I think you wer- are Prince Tyrannus, son of Queen Natasha Grimm-Pitch. Fuck think, actually, I know you are. I found stuff to prove it and shit. I mean, first of all, you look exactly like the prince. You’re bigger but you still look the same. You can see that, right?”

Baz’s eyes flicked up. They were narrowed, but still quivering slightly. “I suppose you have a point, but that’s not exactly objective fact. I hope you have some more solid proof. Otherwise, I'm not sure I can believe you.”

Simon nodded. “Yeah, yeah, of course I do. Look, here.” He reached into his bag, and pulled out the first proclamation. “This is an announcement about the Queen and Prince’s deaths. They died in a fire, in 1002. You would’ve been five. Queen Natasha died, but you were taken. Like in the dreams, remember?”

“Yes, of course I remember. But this could just be a coincidence. You’ll need more than your dreams to convince me I’m a bloody dead prince, love.”

Simon smiled slightly. He was glad Penny had been with him to look for proof. "Yeah, I know. That’s why I have more.” He pulled out the other proclamation paper and put it Baz’s hand. “This is the announcement of the prince’s birth. This was released the day after he was born, so he has the same birthday as you. And see that symbol on the bottom of the page? Look familiar?”

Baz touched his silver chain where it peaked out of tunic collar. Just a small brush, but an acknowledgement all the same. “What is it?” he asked, voice very cautiously hopeful.

“It’s the crest of Tyrannus’ father’s family, the Grimms. And it’s on your necklace, Baz, along with the same birthday. That can’t be a coincidence.”

Baz twisted his mouth. Simon knew he was just thinking, but the movement was infinitely distracting and he needed to focus right now. “I suppose you have a point. But...you said this prince was dead. Last I checked, I’m not dead. Not physically anyway.”

Simon almost wanted to laugh. It was certainly extremely convenient how Baz’s train of thought followed their journey to find proof. Thank the Gods for Penny’s similar need for irrefutable proof.

He pulled the journal from the bag, the page he needed already bookmarked. “See, that’s the thing.” He flipped it open and pointed to the entry. “He may have been officially declared dead, but his body wasn’t actually found after the fire. These are the court physician’s notes. Because you were taken, not killed. No one knew though, since there was too much debris from the castle burning down. And Lord Grimm didn’t want to keep looking so they never realised the Prince’s- your body wasn’t there.”

Baz’s hands were shaking again as he held the journal. His mouth was pressed tight together. Simon knew that look. He had the same expression whenever he was trying to keep his feelings in check too.

“But,” Baz choked out, “why did he stop?”

Simon’s heart broke. Of course Baz felt abandoned, like he had his entire life. Simon put both his hand over Baz’s. The shaking subsided a bit. “Look at the journal, you can read it there. He was too grief stricken to keep looking. It must’ve been hard to keep his hopes up all the time and keep being disappointed. I-It was a big fire, there was a lot of stuff. And Lord Grimm, he couldn’t have known you were actually taken by some madman.”

“I know,” Baz whispered, carefully putting the book down next to him. “Still...it hurts...”

Simon immediately crawled into Baz’s lap and threw his arms around him, pressing Baz as tight against him as he could. Baz hugged his waist, burying his face in Simon’s shoulder. Simon felt tears wet his tunic. He didn’t say anything though, he just let Baz cry. It was the least he could do after dumping all this on him. And considering everything, it was a relief Baz wasn’t having a full on breakdown. Simon was just glad he was mostly alright.

“One question,” he mumbled into Simon’s shoulder, “if his- my name is Tyrannus, which is a stupid name by the way, why the fuck am I called Basil? Did the man make up a new name for me?”

“Funny story about that,” Simon chuckled. “I talked to Queen Natasha’s sister. She doesn’t like David or me, so it took a bit of convincing, but she told me something cool. Prince Tyrannus’ middle name? It was Basilton. Everyone in the castle called him that, or Basil for short.”

Baz arms somehow tightened even more. He let out a shaky breath. Simon slowly ran his fingers through Baz’s hair. He had a feeling it was finally settling in for Baz, just like Simon had felt it settle in for him; Baz was Prince Tyrannus. He was supposedly dead royalty, with a name, with a family.

“So,” Baz said, barely raising from Simon’s body, “my...my father...” He obviously struggled to get the word out, but found a way to do it anyway. “He’s still alive?”

“Yeah, yeah, definitely. I see him at every council meeting.”

Baz pulled back a bit while still looking at the ground. “What’s...what’s he like?”

Simon tried to find a word to summarise Malcolm Grimm. A lot of them weren’t exactly positive. “He’s, uh, he’s...very...stern.”

Baz finally looked up a bit, his red and puffy eyes meeting Simon’s. “That’s not exactly encouraging, Snow.”

“Yeah,” Simon chuckled, “I know. It's just, he doesn’t like David that much, so he’s really cold in council meetings. He might actually be nice. I mean, I’m pretty sure he remarried and he’s had like, three or four more kids. So for their sake I hope he’s nice.”

Baz chuckled. “Well, I hope so too then.” He fiddled Simon’s trouser seam, rolling it between his long fingers. A nervous tic to distract himself. “So I’ve got siblings too?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess so. I didn’t connect it, but, yeah.” He grinned as broadly as he could, running a hand over Baz’s hair. “You’re a big brother.”

“Hm, that...sounds nice. And I have an aunt?”

“Yeah, Lady Fiona Pitch. She’s, uh, very forceful.”

Baz raised an eyebrow. “You don’t seem to have a high opinion of my family, Snow.”

Simon chuckled and shook his head. “No, no, it’s a good thing. She’s like, super strong and willful. She didn’t want to tell me Prince Tyrannus’ middle name at first because she didn’t want me dragging her nephew’s memory through the mud.”

“She thought you would?”

“She didn’t know for sure at first. She just wanted to protect her family.”

Baz’s mouth morphed into a tiny half smile. “That’s nice.”

“Yeah. She’s fiery and sharp tongued. I think you two would get along.”

The smile got the tiniest bit wider. “That’s good.”

He kept fiddling with Simon’s trousers. Simon kept running his fingers through Baz’s silky hair. It had gotten long again. Maybe they should cut it, before tomorrow night. Before the Winter Ball. Because Simon had an idea, if Baz agreed to it, and Baz would want to look good.

Suddenly, Baz stopped fiddling, his entire body going stiff. Simon pushed himself back. Baz’s eyes were wide in what looked like shock and horror.

“Baz? Are you okay, love?”

“I’m a prince,” he said quietly. “I’m a fucking prince, heir to a throne. Fuck...”

Simon couldn’t help the little snort he made. The fact that Baz didn’t pinch his side or flick him showed Simon just how shocked he was. “It just hit you right now, huh?”

“Yeah. Holy shit, I’m supposed to be a king. That’s insane.”

Simon cupped the back of Baz’s neck, tilting his face up just enough so their eyes met. “Um, yeah, technically you are. But you don’t have to be though, if you don’t want to...”

Baz held his head higher, brows very firmly knitted together. “I’m not sure I know what you mean, Snow.”

“Baz,” he sighed, “I of all people know how hard it can be to be a prince. I didn’t tell you this to put that burden on you. I-I just wanted you to know you had a family and people missed you, because that’s what you wanted. But you don’t have to be a prince or a king. I can break the curse and we can just, run away together. Or you can stay, and the Court will make you the crown prince instead of me, and one day you’ll be king. It’s up to you, love.”

“Wouldn’t King David come after you if we ran?”

Simon tenderly ran his thumbs under Baz’s grey eyes. “It would be worth the risk.”

Baz’s smile was small and his gaze was sparkling. He leaned into Simon’s hands, running his own fingers up and down Simon’s sides.

“I’m not sure what I should do, Snow.” he whispered. “My...my mother, I think she would’ve wanted me to take care of the throne after her, right?”

“Yeah, I think so. But you don’t have to-”

“I know, Snow, I know. I just...I’m probably not the person she hoped for me to be, who she wanted to be her heir. She was a brilliant ruler. At least she had brilliant ideas about ruling. She certainly would have wanted to raise and teach me herself. But instead, I’ve spent almost my entire life in a bloody lake, and for six years of it cursed. Would...would I even be a good king?”

It finally hit Simon. It wasn’t that Baz didn’t want to be king and carry on his dead mother’s legacy. He loved politics and economics and every weird finicky prince thing Simon found boring as shit. But he didn’t think he could. Baz was right in way, he probably wasn’t exactly the person his mother thought he would be. Simon had no idea who he would’ve been if Queen Natasha had raised him. But he knew who Baz was, right here, right now. And he needed Baz to know what he thought too.

“Baz,” he said softly, tucking a piece of black hair behind his pointed ear, “I think you’d be a good king. Way better than David, and definitely way better than me.”

“How much of a compliment is that?” he mumbled. Simon flicked his cheek while his lovely, caring companion snickered.

“I’m serious, though, Baz. I think you’d be a good king.”

His face didn’t exactly fall, but it became serious. He was examining Simon like he was one of his books, looking for meaning and understanding. “How do you know?”

Because you’re smart, he thought, and kind, and so unbelievably strong. You’d be able to see all the small details I miss. And you would treat the people so well. But the words got stuck in his throat, and he wasn’t sure the ever self deprecating Baz would believe him if he just said it. If there was another way...

Simon held Baz’s arms, still snug around his waist. “If you were king, what would you do if you needed the wheat, but the amount you needed wouldn’t leave enough for the people farming it?”

Baz’s face pinched together. It was adorable, and Simon had to actively stop himself from snogging him silly. “What is this? Some kind of riddle?”

Simon shook his head, hands moving to hold his shoulders. “No, just a question. Please answer it, love.”

Baz tilted his head to the side, lips sliding back and forth over each other. Once again, it was a struggle to not push him to the ground and snig him senseless. “Well,” he said slowly, “I wouldn’t take that much to begin with. I’d tax a sustainable amount. And if I really needed more, I’d give the farmers funds to encourage them to till more arable land. But not enough it would destroy wild lands for animals. You should always protect nature. It’d be complicated and difficult, but it would be worth it to not harm the people. Queen Nata- ...my...my mother, she wrote that at the end of the day all a ruler really has is the faith of the common people. You break that, you lose your throne, and you’ll deserve it. So never harm them with your own ambitions.” Baz nervously met Simon’s eyes. “Does that make sense?”

Simon’s grin was involuntary and broad. He didn’t know exactly how Baz would answer, but he was more than happy with what he said. “Yeah. That makes perfect sense.” He pressed a firm kiss to his cheek, trailing his lips up to Baz’s ear, where he whispered words. “You would be an incredible king, Baz.”

“Really?” he asked, voice tiny but hopeful.

“Really. Trust me, I wouldn’t lie about this. Listen to yourself. I never would've thought of any of that, but you did. You would be fucking fantastic.

Baz let out a long breath, all the tension in his muscles thawing like ice. His forehead fell against Simon’s shoulder. Simon’s fingers were pressed to Baz’s neck, warm breath heating up his tunic.

“I think,” Baz said into the fabric, “I think I want to. Take back the throne, that is. I want to show I’m worthy of it. Well, I’ll try, and hopefully I am.”

“You’re sure that’s what you want?” Simon asked. “Not what you think your mother would want?”

Baz nodded. “Yeah. Honestly...I think it’s a bit of both. I want to prove I’m worthy of her legacy, but I also want to myself.” He pulled back, the tiniest smile playing on his mouth. “I’ve been reading about politics and philosophy for years, might as well put all of it to use. And I’ve been trapped here almost my whole life, unable to do anything. I could do a lot as a king, make a difference. I’d like that.”

Simon almost said that he could do a lot as anything. He didn’t have to be king. But it was obviously something Baz wanted to do. Simon didn’t fully get it, what with his experience as a prince, but he understood it was important to Baz, and that was all that mattered.

“Okay,” Simon said. “If that’s what you want, okay.”

Baz lifted his head sharply. “But wait,” he said, voice very nervous, “will...will you stay with me? If I become the crown prince? If not, fuck the throne, we’ll run fast and far and never look back. I’d rather have you than any crown or legacy.”

Every part of Simon’s body felt so incredibly warm. Like the sun was beating where his heart should be. He cupped Baz’s beautiful, perfect, sharp face and brought their mouths together. It was an incredibly soft kiss compared to most of their others. But kissing Baz was kissing Baz, and it was always amazing. When they pulled apart, Simon hugged Baz’s neck as tight as he could.

“I’ll stay,” he said against his ear. “I’ll stay with you, no matter what, Baz. Whether you’re a prince or a king or a swan, you’ll never be alone again, I promise.”

Baz let out a relieved sigh. He squeezed Simon so hard Simon struggled to breathe a bit. But he didn’t care. Fuck breathing. Baz was hugging him, that was all that mattered.

Eventually, they eased up, settling into a softer embrace. Simon shifted onto his knees to better look at Baz’s face. His black hair was disheveled from Simon running his hands through it, the area around his eyes was a little red and puffy. But he was smiling. And he looked damn gorgeous.

“Now that we’ve got that all sorted, my plan can work,” Simon said cheerily.

Baz looked confused, as he had many times tonight. “Plan? What plan? Should I be scared, Snow?”

Simon giggled, shaking his head. “Unless you’re scared of dancing again, then no.” Baz looked even more confused. Simon grabbed both his hands. “Tomorrow night, there’s going to be a huge ball at the castle. It’s a big event for the nobility, lots of people will be there. David wants to announce my...my engagement to my friend there.” Baz flinched, and Simon held his hands tighter. “But I’m not going to let him. Instead, you’re going to come, all dressed up and shit. And I’ll...do what Siegfried in Swan Lake was supposed to do, but do it right, and the curse will be broken. Then we’ll tell the whole court who you are. You can see your family and take back the crown.”

Baz took a few minutes to process all of it. His eyes moved back and forth across the air like he was reading. Soon, he slowly nodded. “Okay, okay, and what am I going to wear? My clothes aren't appropriate for a huge ball."

"Still got the solstice costume?" Baz nodded. "Then where that. Anyone asks where it's from, say it's bespoke."

Baz snorted, turning into a low chuckle. "Sure, they'll believe that. And what if my captor shows up? Here or at the ball?

"He only shows up here every few months, we should be fine. And if he's at the ball, I'll kick his arse."

Baz chuckled again, shaking his head. Simon hoped he actually believed him. "Alright, sure. And..." Baz took a deep breath. Simon watched his expand slowly, the muscles and sinew tensing and relaxing. Simon's anticipation rose in every one of those slow seconds. "You can definitely break the curse?

Huh? Simon thought. “I...don’t know what you mean. You’ve read the book, right?”

“Yes yes, I’ve read it. I mean...” Baz cleared his throat and ran his thumb over the back of Simon’s hand. “You’re sure you’re, capable of breaking the curse? You...feel the way you have to in order to break it?”

It took Simon his own time to process Baz’s words. But slowly the revelation dawned on him. The nervous way Baz bit his lip, the flush covering his cheeks, how he was looking at the ground. Gods above, Simon couldn’t believe it. Did Baz not realise Simon loved him?

“Yes,” Simon blurted out, voice edging on annoyed, “yes I can! I really, really can.”

Baz eyes went wider. He was truly shocked “Really?”

Simon nodded so hard his hair flung back and forth. “Yeah, of course! I’ve never felt like this before you, like Siegfried. I absolutely I meet the curse criteria.”

“Oh,” Baz squeaked, cheeks flushing bright red. “Alright, that’s good to know.”

Baz’s voice was strained, nervous, and something finally clicked in Simon’s brain. His jaw fell open in shock. “Is that why you haven’t talked about the book since I gave it to you? You were scared I didn’t...care about you like that?” Baz shrugged, very pointedly looking at the grassy floor. Simon let out a breathy chuckle. “What, did me snogging you for three weeks and everything else before not fully convince you?”

“You can snog someone and come see them and not...feel that way about them,” he mumbled with red cheeks. Simon wanted to slap his feelings of worthlessness right out of of him. Or kiss them away. That would be good too.

“Well, I do. I mean, I just promised to stay with you forever for a damn good reason, Baz.” He pulled Baz’s face up and tapped their foreheads together. “Baz, I lo-”

Baz surged forward and covered Simon’s mouth with his, effectively cutting him off. Simon melted into it like always. His arms went limp on Baz's strong shoulders. And when Baz pulled back, Simon chased his lips, but Baz sadly kept him away with a light push of his chest.

“Okay, okay, I believe you,” Baz whispered playfully. “But save the actual word for the ball. We don’t know exactly how the curse works. We may only have one shot, and we need the world to hear.”

Simon nodded. “Alright, yeah, you have a point. I’ll fucking shout it tomorrow night.”

Baz scoffed playfully. “I’m sure all the nobility will appreciate that.”

“Eh. I won’t be the prince for much long after. They won’t give a shit what I do.”

“You really don’t mind losing the title?”

Simon shook his head vigorously. “Absolutely not. You know I hate it. I think being a prince’s, uh, whatever we are will be way easier. I can do whatever I want.”

Baz smirked devilishly. “Oh dear, what will the Lords think then?”

“What?” Simon leaned back, arms lazily draped on Baz’s shoulders, “worried I’ll reflect badly on you, Prince Tyrannus?”

Baz’s smirk immediately turned into an angry frown. But Simon didn’t think he was angry at him, because he wasn’t pushing Simon onto his arse and stomping away. Rather, he was holding his waist tighter. “No. And don’t you ever think that ever again.”

Simon was a bit taken aback, but the aggressive affection was very endearing in it’s own way. He smiled all the same as his heart beat pleasantly against his ribcage. “Okay, will do, your highness.”

“Don’t call me that, please,” Baz chuckled, head falling against Simon’s chest. “It feels weird.”

“You’ll have to get used it eventually, love.”

Baz rolled his eyes incredibly dramatically. “Yeah, but not yet. I’m still just Baz right now.”

Simon instantly leaned forward to press a hard, fast kiss to Baz’s cool lips. Baz barely had time to react before Simon pulled away again. “You’ll always be Baz to me, no matter how many people call you ‘your highness’”

Simon wasn’t sure how nice that was, or how much sense it made. Things that came out of his mouth tended to be just this side of nonsensical and usually unhelpful. But Baz grinned, and he pulled Simon by his tunic collar to kiss him again, more slowly this time, carefully winding his long fingers in his curls as he languidly took his mouth. So maybe Simon was helpful for once. That was a nice feeling. Kissing Baz was a better feeling though. It was better than anything.

Baz was the one who pulled away this time. He nuzzled Simon’s cheek with his long nose. “Just curious,” he said, “what would you have done if I didn’t want to take back the throne? Would we still have gone to that ball but then dashed off instead?”

Simon giggled, pressing himself closer to Baz’s comforting embrace. “No no. I, uh, I actually thought about stealing supplies, going to the town square, and shouting it to everyone there. Then we’d get on horses and ride as far as we could in one night.”

Honestly, Simon expected Baz to mock him for such a simplistic idea, or at least laugh at him for a moment. But he didn’t, because Baz was a constant, wonderful, ever renewing miracle. He just grinned and kissed Simon’s burning cheek. “That’s a great plan, love. I absolutely would’ve done that too.”

“Well, thank you,” Simon laughed. “The ball will be good too though, I promise. I mean, it’s going to be sort of boring, but it’ll be better with you there.”

“You really take me to the most wonderful places,” Baz drawled. He reached back and touched his own hair, rubbing the strands between his fingers. “Say, think you could give me another haircut before my big debut? I liked it just at my neck.”

“Yeah, of course. What else would my dagger be for?”

“I have absolutely no clue.”

Simon pecked Baz’s annoyingly attractive smirk, then reluctantly released himself from his embrace. As he stumbled around behind Baz, he pulled his dagger from his boot, spinning it for dramatic effect. (Baz had taught him the value of dramatics.) Baz sat straight backed, hands perfectly placed in his lap. He was doing a very good statue impression. He’d fit in quite well at council meetings.

It was quiet as Simon cut Baz’s hair, just like the first time. Simon could hear the soft wind and lapping water. But now the air wasn’t filled with tension and awkwardness. Simon’s hands didn’t start off shaking as he sliced through Baz’s raven locks. Baz wasn’t stiff and pulling away from Simon. He leaned into Simon’s hand, hummed happily when their skin touched. And Simon took every opportunity to touch Baz again and again. They weren’t the anxiety riddled loners anymore. Almost four months later, and they were so much better.

With a final slice, Simon finished. It wasn’t perfectly even, but only a very scrutinizing eye would noticed. Baz looked great. Simon kissed his cheek, his temple, and his ear. He wanted to kiss Baz all night. Of course, that was when he let out the world’s biggest yawn.

“Aw,” Baz cooed, craning his head back, “you tired, Snow?”

“A bit,” he sighed. “But I’m fine.”

“No. You should sleep. We’ve both got a big night tomorrow.” He went to his feet and outstretched his long arm. One of the floating lights illuminated the back of his head. He looked like some sort of demigod or celestial being. Simon was simply in awe of him. “Come on, time for you to steal my bed again.”

Simon rolled his eyes but still took his hand, letting him be hoisted to his feet. “You’re the one offering.”

“Yes, yes, I know.” He tugged Simon forward, making him stumble into Baz’s embrace. When twisted a piece of Simon’s hair between his fingers, he practically melted. “Like I’d ever complain about having you in my bed.”

All the words left Simon’s mouth and brain. He had been reduced to a blushy, lovesick mess of a man and he never wanted to be anything else ever again. Baz giggled, then leaned forward to peck Simon’s lips. It was short, and Simon almost pushed for a longer kiss, but he was tired. There would be lots of time for that afterwards. After the curse was finally broken. When Baz would finally be free.

They walked to the cottage hand in hand. Baz led Simon to his cot for what was hopefully the last time. Simon laid down, and Baz followed, though he also grabbed a large book to keep himself entertained while Simon slept. He sat with his back against the wall and patted the space next to him. Simon happily collapsed there, head on Baz’s thigh and arm across his lap. He felt sleep wash over like a tide on the beach. Baz rubbed his back, and Simon focused on that slow, comforting motion as he drifted off.

This would be his last time in this bed. But it certainly wouldn’t the last time he fell asleep with Baz right next to him.

———————————————

When Simon woke up, it wasn’t quite yet dawn, the sky a deep violet and edging towards orange, a few grey clouds beautifully illuminated in the distance. Simon looked at Baz with blurry eyes. But he could see Baz’s smiling down at him, and that was all that mattered.

“Morning,” Baz said wistfully.

“Morning,” Simon replied.

They spent a few of their precious minutes kissing. Baz made muttering comments about Simon’s terrible breath, but didn’t actually stop. Eventually, they had to get up though, and Baz let Simon use his arms to pull himself up. As they walked outside into the coming day, greeted by soft rumblings in the sky and swan honks, Baz suddenly stopped in the doorway. Simon unceremoniously knocked into him.

“Baz? What is it?” he asked, rubbing his aching nose.

“This is all I’ve known for so long,” Baz said quietly. “And...I don’t think I’m going to miss it. Is that weird? To not miss your home?”

Simon pressed his cheek to Baz’s bony shoulder, gripping his hand tight. “This isn’t your home, love. It’s your prison. Let it burn for all I care.”

Baz snorted. “You weren’t exactly a fan when I tried that.”

“Okay, you know what I mean, arsehole.” He squeezed his hand again. “By tonight, you’re going to be free of here. You’re going to have a huge castle and a big family and me all the time.”

“Yeah,” Baz sighed happily, leaning on the top of his head. “I’m looking forward to that.”

They collected all the books and papers in silence, putting them back in Simon’s rucksack. He slung it over his shoulder with ease, then turned back to Baz.

“Oh I almost forgot,” he said and started rummaging into his trouser pocket. Soon he felt something metal graze his fingers. He pulled out the gold signet ring, etched with a sword insignia, and pressed it Baz’s palm. “Wear this to the ball tonight. Tell the guards I invited you and show them it. They’ll let you in, or at least tell me, then I’ll let you in, okay?”

Baz nodded, absentmindedly slipping in onto his left ring finger. Simon didn’t know if that was intentional, but his face flushed all the same. “Okay, will do.”

Simon could see the sunlight approaching from over Baz’s shoulder. Their time was almost up for now. As his heart broke, Simon kept reminding himself of that this was the last sunrise they had to worry about. He pulled Baz for one more kiss. It was deep and sure, just like his feelings for Baz. Simon reluctantly separated from him. Soon, he thought, soon he’ll be free, and we’ll stop having to say goodbye.

“It starts after sundown,” he whispered. “Head there right after you change.”

“Okay,” Baz replied.

“Wear the solstice costume?”

“Of course.”

“And make sure you have the ring.”

“Will do.”

“And-”

“Simon,” Baz chuckled, cupping his face delicately, “it’ll be alright. You can go. I’ll see you tonight.”

Simon took a deep, somewhat calming breath through his nose. His nerves were still sky high, but Baz’s voice helped. He always helped. “Okay. I’ll see you then.”

They kissed once, twice, and a third time for good luck, then Simon finally walked to the edge of the root covered wall. He turned back to look at the lake one last time. It’s lush green grass, short trees, graceful swans, and glistening blue water. It was a beautiful place. But Simon wouldn’t miss it either. Because the best part of the lake was Baz. Soon Baz would be free, and every place with him would be just as beautiful.

Simon met Baz’s grey eyes one more time, grinned, and started climbing the wall for what he hoped would be the very last time.

———————————————

Baz watched Simon ascend the wall with a smile on his face. He watched until the barrier made him invisible. He sighed, fingers instinctively touching the gold ring. It was a comforting weight, reminding him of everything. The ball, his impending freedom, Simon’s love.

Baz had spent six years listening to people from afar, figuring them out and being unimpressed. None of them compared to Simon. Brave, kind, strong Simon. Baz knew he loved Simon almost since they met. His feelings were so intense he feared they would kill him. No matter how much he tried to fight it, they stayed. Baz knew it was impossible. Even that one near kiss at the festival felt unreal, just an impulsive mistake from Simon. And when Baz pushed him away he thought that was finally it. The end he expected came but destroyed him all the same. Then Simon kissed him, saved his life, told him he would find his family, and there was a little hope again. But Baz still couldn’t believe it was love. Friendly affection mixed with physical desire maybe, but not love. No one could ever fall in love someone as strange and damaged as him. No one could break his curse, and he was too much of a coward to bring it up.

Except Simon did love him. Simon, his brave, kind, strong prince was in love with him. What a charmed life Baz had.

He looked down at his hands. They were softly glowing, and he knew his time was approaching. One last time, then no more swan form, no more painful transformation, no more prison. He wouldn’t be the nameless cursed boy any longer. He’d be a prince, someday a king, with a father and siblings and an aunt and Simon. He would be making his late mother, his idol for his whole life, as proud as he could. He would make a difference.

Fate had a strange way of working out.

Baz slipped the ring off and put it in his trouser pocket. He started unlacing his tunic. The was glow increasing bit by bit. But he wasn’t scared for once.

“It’s the last time, just one more time,” he muttered, “then this will finally be over.”

“That’s what you think.”

A large, rough hand clamped over Baz’s mouth, and an arm grabbed his waist. He screamed, but he knew no sound got past the barrier. And every time he struggled the arm held him tighter. He looked down. The arm was dressed in a grey robe.

“So, you think you can escape, huh?” the man hissed, his voice unaltered for once. It was a deep, angry baritone. “And it’s because of Simon. Damn that boy, he’s more trouble than he’s worth. No matter though. He won’t be breaking your curse. I’ll make sure he never can. And you will be somewhere he can’t find you.”

Baz screamed again but it was hopeless. The shield blocked what little sound he made. The man’s hand around his waist pulled away, but the other hand kept Baz from fleeing. Frightened tears fell down his face but the man didn’t care. Something pointy tapped Baz’s temple twice, and then everything went black.

———————————————

AN: Uh-oh, that's not good. What ever shall happen? Also I hope my reasoning got across. I'm worried Baz wanting the throne is too OOC. In my mind though, this is an extension of Baz wanting to continue his mother's legacy. But he hasn't grown up with that legacy as something crushing and love stopping in this fic. It's something he can live up to. Plus he's been isolated and alone almost his entire life, feeling like his life doesn't mean anything, like he's been a ghost in the world. Being a king would let him have a say and do something. He can help people like Simon helped him. Could he do that without being king? Yeah. But he wants to be. He likes politics and philosophy and could like being king. Simon doesn't like any of that, and while he wants to help people, doesn't know how to do it as king like Baz. I hope that came across. I need to stop over explaining my writing lol. Any who, next chapter will be on Monday :)

[ohmytheon]

It’s (Not) a Date (1/2)

summary: What better way to get petty revenge on his father than blow his money at an insanely expensive restaurant? It's a good idea in Todoroki's opinion and the person that will enjoy the experience the most is Uraraka, so of course it makes perfect sense to ask her if she wants to go out for dinner with him. What could go wrong?

notes: This was 80% inspired by this tumblr post, which made me laugh for five minutes, and 20% inspired by wellthengetouttathesoupaisle's Chaotic Rich Kid Todoroki fic, "two hundred and fifty-three black sandelwood bathbombs". I wasn't supposed to write Todochako, but when Sven from the Kacchako Discord asked for Todochako fluff, my lizard brain refused to focus on anything else. Uh, this was supposed to be like 3k. Now it's two chapters and I might be done with it.

It took Todoroki an embarrassing amount of time for the actual idea to form. Instead of hitting him all at once like lightning, it came to him in pieces, a part of the puzzle here and another there until it formed a picture. Once the idea was in his mind, he couldn’t let it go. There was something so perfect about it that it almost made him smile just thinking about it (which probably should’ve been when he knew that this was different). With the idea created, he realized what he had to do.

No, he knew what he wanted to do. He had spent his whole life living by what he had to do that he sometimes forgot that he could do things simply because he wanted to do them. There didn’t have to be some grand reason or life or death situation. If he wanted ice cream, he could get it. He didn’t have to wait to reward himself because he accomplished something in class, won a mock-battle, or defeated a villain. He could just do things.

Even if those things were extremely petty.

He didn’t say they had to always be good things or nice ideas.

The first piece of inspiration had actually come from Bakugou, who had been telling his friends a story about how he’d stuffed cotton balls in his ears so that his mom’s yelling was muffled. Then, after laughing, Ashido had added that she sometimes wore her headphones when she was on the train even when her iPod was dead so that guys wouldn’t talk to her. They were such small things that Todoroki couldn’t help but take note of upon overhearing them in the common area. Apparently, Bakugou’s mom had been so pissed upon finding the cotton balls that she had quit yelling and left the room, just as he’d wanted.

The second piece of the puzzle came from Momo. Blushing, she had told people that she’d upset her mother over the weekend by wearing purple to some fundraiser her parents’ were throwing instead of the assigned red and gold theme that were her family’s colors. It was such a dumb, little thing, but it had apparently infuriated her mom, who didn’t always agree with Momo’s decision to become a hero. She was very close with her parents, but they didn’t always get why she was so willing to put herself in danger all the time. They didn’t know her like their classmates did.

Still, the fact that Momo had done something so small to get back at her mom was...eye-opening. Whenever Todoroki had tried to get back at his father, it had usually been something on a much grander scale, such as refusing the fire half of his quirk for years or trying to become a hero with only the half of his quirk that he’d inherited from his mother. He had always been a “go big or go home” type of person. Maybe it came with the nature of his powerful quirk.

After coming to U.A., he had figured out that sometimes much more subtle jabs were more efficient, like the time he’d slurped his food during whenever his father had tried to talk. The shock and frustration on his face had been utterly priceless, but because Todoroki hadn’t done anything really, he couldn’t say much without looking like a total idiot.

The third and last piece seemed so random compared to the rest and it had taken him a day or two to piece them all together. On the rare occasion that they had a break, Todoroki had gone out with a group of his classmates (his friends) to blow off some steam at the mall. By the time they left to get something to eat before going back to the dorms, everyone had bought something - except for Uraraka. Her thriftiness was by now known to everyone. Even if she was saving money by no longer having to pay rent, she kept a very tight budget, a habit she couldn’t break.

When they stopped to eat at a restaurant, she’d hesitated and then ordered the cheapest meal. No one else had noticed it, but he certainly did, especially when he ordered what might’ve been the most expensive meal. He hadn’t done it intentionally - it was simply the best-sounding one on the menu - but he couldn’t miss the way she had stared almost dreamily at his food when everything arrived. When he had asked if she’d wanted a bite, she had blushed furiously and insisted that she was fine. She avoided him the rest of the night, embarrassed at having been caught. Being considered poor didn’t bother her, but she didn’t like to bother her friends with it.

A week later, with the plan in mind, Todoroki sat at the couches in the common area with his friends. They were supposed to be doing a study session for Present Mic’s exam, but to be honest, he wasn’t paying attention. Iida and Deku were the most involved, trying to help Ashido and Sero, both of whom were lamenting about the class. Their scores had begun to improve once they’d started doing these sessions, but the cost was high apparently. Todoroki had studied English as a kid with his mother, the only reason why it didn’t seem so difficult to him.

Uraraka sat on a large cozy chair with her textbook and notes in her lap, chewing on the end of a pen as she read through them. If she wasn’t careful, it was going to explode in her mouth like last time and get ink everywhere. She’d looked like she got into a fight with a giant squid and potentially lost. Not that she lost many fights these days. Now near the end of their second year, her technique with her quirk had grown into one of the strongest in the class. Just the other day, she had helped them win a mock-battle in their hero course. He wasn’t sure they would have won without her.

Once the session ended, everyone got up and started to head off to spend the little free time they had left before bed. Uraraka didn’t seem to notice everyone leaving, too absorbed in her notes, until Iida put a hand on her shoulder. Startled out of her reverie, she smacked him in the chest and he floated quickly to the ceiling. “Oh, I’m sorry!” She pressed her fingers together. “Release!” When Iida crashed onto the couch unceremoniously, she cringed and pressed a hand to her mouth. “Oops, should’ve given you a warning.”

“It’s quite alright,” Iida reassured her, adjusting his glasses as he pushed himself up. “I just wanted to make sure that you don’t stay up too late. Pulling all-nighters to study has been proven to be detrimental to scores.”

Uraraka smiled. “Okay, Dad, thanks. I won’t.”

Instead of getting upset over the teasing comment, Iida nodded his head and then walked away, his job done. That left only Todoroki, Uraraka, and Deku at the couches. While Uraraka went back to looking over her stuff, Deku was slowly gathering his things together, lost in thought about something. Todoroki glanced at him. Normally he didn’t mind if the other boy was around, but for some reason, the persistent feeling that he wanted Deku to be gone kept creeping on him.

He didn’t know why. It wasn’t like this was a big deal or anything.

After placing his mostly ignored notes in his backpack, Todoroki slung it over his shoulder and walked over to her. Scratching her head and sticking her tongue out as she wrote down a sentence, she didn’t look up. It wasn’t until he said, “Uraraka,” did she pause and glance up at him.

“Hey!” The smile from earlier reappeared on her face, the only difference was that it was less teasing. “You were quiet all night. Well, you’re pretty quiet normally, but not that quiet. You good?”

“I’m fine. Thank you for asking.” Todoroki gazed down at her. Now that he was here, he was having trouble actually saying what was on his mind. It didn’t help that Midoriya was still around, but it wasn’t like he could ask him to leave. Besides, it shouldn’t have been an issue. They were friends. He’d hung out plenty of times with just Momo or Midoriya and he and Uraraka had become better friends over the past year. So he might as well just say it. “Do you want to get dinner with me tomorrow?”

Uraraka turned bright red. “Eh?”

There, the question was out. He felt a lot better, even with her looking at him like he’d grown an extra head. She had a habit of looking down on herself and he knew that he tended to be distant, so maybe she’d thought that they weren’t actually that great of friends. They were. He simply had a difficult time showing it. He was trying to get better about it though.

“Do you want to get dinner with me tomorrow?” Todoroki repeated. Behind him, he heard Midoriya cough. It could’ve been for any reason. Maybe he was catching a cold. Whatever the case, Todoroki didn’t mind him as he stayed focused on Uraraka. “I’m kind of mad at my dad right now and figured I could spend some of his money”

“So you...want me to have dinner with you...to get back at Endeavor?” Uraraka asked slowly.

Todoroki shrugged his shoulders. “Essentially, yes, but the place I was thinking of has a dessert special that you’ve mentioned really liking.”

Uraraka’s eyes practically sparkled at the mention of dessert. She had an insatiable sweet tooth, somehow worse than Natsuo’s, one that she bemoaned on a frequent basis whenever she was trying to eat healthily. Maybe it was a low blow, mentioning the dessert since he knew how much she loved sweets, but then he had thought of her when he’d looked up the menu. He hadn’t been there in years, not since he’d been forced to attend business dinners with his father, but the food had always been exceptional and he didn’t think she’d ever been.

“You don’t have to go if you’re busy or uncomfortable,” Todoroki added for good measure.

“No, no! I’ll go!” Uraraka rushed to say, waving her hands in the air. “Um…” She put a finger under her chin. “What time?”

“How does seven sound?”

“That’s fine. It gives me time to get ready after my gymnastics training with Aizawa. Ugh.” Everyone was trying to build up their strengths in unique ways. If it seemed unusual, it probably helped in some unpredictable way. “Is there like a dress code or something? We’re just gonna get some food, right?”

“Yeah, wear whatever you feel comfortable in.” That was what he was going to do at least. He liked to think that he had a better style than, say, Midoriya, but he wasn’t overly concerned with fashion either. Besides, it wasn’t like he expected her to wear an evening gown or something like that.

“Okay.” Uraraka’s cheeks were still pink and the smile on her face was nervous for some reason, but she didn’t look bothered that he’d asked her to hang out. He had worried that he might come off as weird or annoying, but then she had always been very friendly and warm. “This will be fun!”

It would certainly be interesting. Todoroki nodded his head in agreement, bid her and Midoriya goodnight, and left for his dorm. Midoriya wore a bright, wide-eyed stare and it took him a beat to respond. He wasn’t sure why his friend looked so shocked, but it didn’t matter. Dwelling on it was pointless and he was tired. He had a lot to do tomorrow if he was going to slack off at night.

[looselucy]

Thirty Four - H

Harry’s point of view. I was totally lifeless as the tour bus travelled to our next destination. My mind had become a bit of a blank slate, I wasn’t at all aware of where we were actually going. Usually, I kept track of it in my head, marked where we were and where we would be going next, but I was finding it increasingly difficult.

It had been a week since I had been around to Anna’s and ended things. Maybe even more importantly than that, it had been a week since I told her I loved her. I wished I had let her know sooner, that I could have told her that in a way that didn’t make the whole encounter seem twice as agonizing. Hearing her say in back was utterly excruciating. It felt like someone had thrust their fist through my chest and pulled my heart from its place. But instead of wishing I hadn’t said it at all, I just wished I had said it earlier. The day had been awful, the entire day was one I was desperate to forget. It started fully when I was released from the shared cell I’d spent my evening, cameras flashing in my face as I kept my head down and just walked to my private car, security trying to block the photographers from me, but the men did their jobs incredibly well, getting enough pictures to satisfy those who were interested in my misery. I told the driver of the car to drive me home, but our management had different ideas. I was drove to a building in the centre of London, one I was all too familiar with. Luckily there were no photographers there as I went inside, completely glum. They told me straight away I had to break up with her, that I had to end our relationship. I spent the whole day fighting them about it, the entire day trying to explain that she wasn’t who she was made out to be, and it wasn’t because of her that I’d lost my mind, but that didn’t make a difference to them. “If her image is bad, so is yours.” They’d said. When it came to her, I couldn’t have cared less if my appearance was dire, I couldn’t care less what anyone else thought, because I had her. I tried to explain that the attack I made on her prick of an ex was entirely of my own accord, that it had nothing to do with her, but they barely listened to me. Ignoring the awful aftermath of my actions, and the fact I didn’t have her, a part of me still couldn’t help but feel content that I had done what I did. If I could go back in time and change things, I would, she was more important than my anger. But the way things stood, fuck, it felt good to give that little prick what he deserved. I had this insane protective instinct when it came to Anna, and I couldn’t control it. I noticed it right away, as soon as she met the other boys I felt something overrun me, even Louis giving her a kiss on the cheek made me feel rather uncomfortable. The feeling was strange and foreign to me, I tried to brush it off, but I knew I was going to be very protective of her. She was mine to touch, and hold, and love, and the thought of anyone else being that way with her made me feel physically sick. I wouldn’t have been violent with that protection if there hadn’t been pricks that made me that way. It was something that happened in the parts of my mind and my body that I couldn’t control. It wasn’t my fault, and it definitely wasn’t hers. I tried to explain all of this to them, I tried to explain that people didn’t even know we were together and that it could stay that way, but they were having none of it. They knew about us, and it was enough. I began yelling, telling them they could go fuck themselves, telling them there wasn’t really anything they could do, it wasn’t like they could physically break us up or take me out of the band, we were earning them their money. But then they passed me a copy of the contract I had signed eagerly when I was child, and began explaining what they could do as I skimmed through the pages, my heart sinking as I did. They began to explain that they could stop paying me; they could literally, legally, get away with not giving me a single penny if I broke their rules. They could stop me from tweeting, stop me from associating with the fans in any way possible. They could stop me having time off, make sure I never even had the opportunity to see my family. And they were deadly serious. They didn’t care about me, they didn’t care at all. They just wanted their money. I wondered if general human decency ever entered their minds, even if it was just for a moment. My health and my wellbeing and happiness, were not factors they were going to take into consideration. They just cared about the money. The distant sound of someone saying my name made me lift my head and let her slip from my thoughts for a moment. Niall was sat across from me, concern plastering his features. “You okay?” He asked. All I did was shrug. I preferred it when we were busy, or when I was onstage and I could just take my mind off the scenario I had found myself trapped in. Being on the road with nothing to do made me crave her. “Talk to me.” He encouraged. “I don’t want to.” “I think you need to.” “I DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!” I spat bitterly. Niall looked disheartened by my tone, like he’d taken it personally. I had never really spoke to him like that before, I never usually spoke to anyone like that, but my patience was wearing thin. I had no idea how I was going to get past this, how I was going to move on. “I’m just trying to help.” He drawled. I ran my hand over my eyes, trying to wipe away this constant sense of anger I’d had for the whole week. I really needed to try and move on. “Sorry.” I breathed. “I just don’t know what to do.” “I don’t think there’s anything you can do. But you can’t keep it bottled up, that’s what you did when you got scared of the fame, and when you were with Kate, and that was a really dark time for you. I don’t want to see you back there.” He was both stern and soft, having to be stern to show me that he was being very serious, that he didn’t want to see me fall back into a place that had made me very weak in the past, it had made me into a really horrible person, and the four lads had been the only people who could pull me out of the spiral. It wasn’t easy for them, either. “I just... I can’t believe I can’t be with her.” I sighed. “I’m not allowed to be with the person I love. It’s a fucking joke.” “Do you really love her, or did you just say it because you knew it was ending?” Niall asked. A part of me was angered by the fact he had questioned it at all, but then at the same time I understood where he was coming from. He knew I was upset, and he knew my relationship with Kate had no feelings involved whatsoever. He was just asking me because of what he had seen from me in the past, I couldn’t really be mad about that. I had to take a deep breath in before I replied to him. “I love her. I know I do.” “Holy shit. That’s rough.” Niall stated. “I know. How do I… How am I supposed to get past this?” “I guess... you just try to forget.” “I don’t want to forget.” “I know you don’t, Harry, but that might be the only way you can… be okay again. Right now, there’s not much else you can do.” I glanced out of the window, seeing the orange lights of the motorway pass by us in a flash, travelling through the dark night at a dizzying speed. I really didn’t want to forget about Anna and what we had shared. I didn’t want to forget her touch, or her skins reaction to my touch, or the beautiful XIII tattoo on the back of her neck. I didn’t want to forget anything, in fact I had promised myself that I would remember everything about her and what we had. But it occurred to me that Niall was right, I was torturing myself with memories and thoughts of her. If I wanted to get past these feelings, I was going to have to get past the feelings of love I had for her, and that meant I needed to try my best to stop thinking about her, to forget the way she looked when sleeping, forget the slight curve of her kiss, forget that I only cared to hear my own name when the sound slipped from between her lips. The task seemed impossible, but I had to try. “I’m knackered, man.” Niall began. “I’m gunna go to bed. You okay?” “Yeah.” I nodded. “Thanks for being here.” “Don’t mention it!” I was taken in for a hug, something that was often shared between the five of us. Sometimes it felt like they were the only people in the world I could rely on fully. They would always be the only people who could fully relate to me. We were the only ones who had gone through it all, and felt it all, right from the start. I would have been totally screwed without them. Niall eventually freed me from his tight embrace and said his goodnights, moving into the other section of the bus where the beds were, leaving me alone to become entranced by the passing orange lights once more. I’m not sure how long I sat there for just looking out of the window, but my mind was blank once again, nothing seeming to cross it as my eyes were flashed by the beams of light every few moments, crossing my eyes and leaving slight trails behind them, printing my vision for a second even when we had passed them, then slowly fading to nothing. I think I could have stayed that way all night if I hadn’t felt my phone vibrating against my leg, signalling someone was trying to get in touch. I wasn’t sure of the hour but I knew it wasn’t your average time for receiving calls, pulling the phone from the tight pocket of my jeans lifting it to my face, seeing who the caller was. Alex Turner. I wasn’t really sure why he was ringing, but I automatically predicted it was going to be something to do with Luke. I questioned in myself whether I should answer, I was trying to leave everything to do with Anna behind, just to help myself, just to make sure I got through these feelings. I ignored the call. But to my surprise, he rang again just seconds after his first attempt. I knew then, something was wrong. I swiped across the screen and then brought the phone up to my ear, sighing heavily before I did so, only now realising that I had become tired as the hours had passed. “How’s it going, Alex?” I asked right away. Silence pierced the other end of the line, making me lower my brows in confusion, only able to distinguish the eventual sound of a sigh, a desperately sad and frustrated sigh. I spoke his name again, signalling I knew he was there, and I needed him to talk to me. Still nothing other than a slight shuffling noise came from his end of the line. “Alex, what’s wrong? Is everything okay?” “No.” He eventually said. A sick feeling clung to the bottom of my stomach as my nerves heightened, my body becoming slightly hotter thanks to the feeling. “What’s going on?” I asked, trying to stay calm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t wanna have to do this. I don’t want… But you deserve to know. I get that things are fucked up, but you deserve to know. Fuck.” “Alex, just fucking tell me what’s happening.” “I didn’t want to have to ring you, I thought it would be sorted by now, but...” He trailed off, unable to say what he needed to say, unable to verbally face the situation. It was like actually saying it out loud was too much for him, it was confirmation that what he had to tell me was actually happening. “Is this to do with Luke?” I spat. “No. But... it’s Anna. Somethings happened. Something… I don’t…” My heart sunk, the thought that maybe she was hurt, or worse. Alex was so on edge, he could barely string a sentence together and I had never once had a conversation with him where he had struggled to hold himself. I was so worried. “What’s going on?” I interrogated. “Anna, she... She’s missing.” He eventually spat out. “What?” “She’s missing. We don’t know where she is.” “What do you mean she’s missing?” I cried. “It’s been almost a week and-” “A WEEK?” I yelled. My stomach was in knots, continuing to tie itself tighter and tighter by the second the more I thought about what he was saying. I blamed myself at first, the thought that a week ago I had ended our relationship and then she had gone missing, I thought she had done something stupid because of me. “We have the police looking for her but they’re struggling!” He panicked. “And I know how you feel about her, and you have the right to know!” “I can’t breathe.” I rushed to the nearest window and opened it just slightly, feeling the heavy wind rush against my skin as I tried to cool down and come back to life. “Has she hurt herself?” I worried, feeling tears form themselves. “No, Harry, it’s not like that. There’s something else. Something I haven’t told you.” “What?” “We found some letters. I thought they were from a fan but...” “But what?” I spoke with anger. “They talk about… watching her. In these fucking letters, this guys talks about… following her... and wanting to take her... and taste her... and...” Before I could even listen to another word my fist smashed against the glass window, the whole thing falling apart around the floor of the tour bus and onto the motorway, which was thankfully quiet thanks to the hour. The bus swerved, making it hard for me to stand for a moment before the driver pulled onto the hard-shoulder, cursing loudly and asking what the fuck had happened. But I couldn’t control it, tears angrily dripped down my face as I collapsed into the mass of broken glass, cutting through some of my clothes and some of my skin as I sunk into it, my heart seeming to be cut by the shards too. The door to the bedroom area opened quickly, the four boys watching me in horror as I cried out in pain, dropping my phone to the floor and clutching at my stomach. I could hear the boys trying to talk to me, Louis nervously stepping over the glass and crouching down in front of me so his eyes were level with mine, trying to get some words out of me and make sense of the situation but I just couldn’t stop crying, groaning out thanks to the agony that was breaking my heart. I had never felt anything like it in my life, I had felt awful enough about the way things had ended between the two of us. Now this. She was missing and they’d found letters that strongly implied that it was someone who had caused that, someone who had taken her, who could be hurting her, using her. If I had known I would have stopped this. I could have stopped this. I would have killed the bastard I would have made sure he could never lay a fucking finger on her. The thoughts then ran my mind of what if he hadn’t just taken her, what if he was hurting her. What if she was dead. As much as I wanted to explain to the boys what was going on, there wasn’t a chance I could speak in that moment, I was far too overawed and I was in far too much pain, my mind beginning to convince itself that she was gone. My own blood covered my hands, cuts being created and oozing the red substance, but a part of my mind still wanted to pick up some shards and squeeze them in my hand, tighten my fist around them, just to distract myself from the pain I was feeling on the inside and feel it outside instead. “I can’t do this...” I managed to blubber. “Someone call an ambulance!” Louis spoke calmly. That’s all I remember really, I think pretty soon afterwards I passed out, a mixture of all my emotions and my loss of blood taking over my body and taking me into a deep slumber, my body having nothing else to give in that moment.

How I had actually managed to function in any way whatsoever was a miracle. I got to the top floor of Anna’s building, my heart empty in my chest as I walked down the hallway towards her flat, seeing police-tape surrounding her front door. I had left the hospital and got a private jet from Manchester Airport straight down to London as soon as I could, making the promise I would be back there in the evening for the show. I didn’t want to disappoint the fans, and I knew there was nothing I could really do when it came to the Anna situation, but I had to be there, even if it was just for the day. I looked round the door which was open, police men and investigators inspecting the room as I silently stepped inside, completely dry of tears, my mouth dropped as I let myself in, sad eyes scanning the crime scene. One of the balcony windows was smashed open, its shards still on the floor. On one of the white walls of the hallway the word ‘six’ had been painted to the wall in red. I next dropped my eyes to two people inspecting a mark on the floor, which I quickly recognised as blood. I hoped the word on the wall didn’t come from the same substance, but I couldn’t be too sure. I tried to run, not being able to deal with the thought that it could be her blood, trying not to give my mind a chance to dwell on the information I was seeing, but someone calling my name stopped me in my tracks. I turned around to see Rachel walking towards me, tears brimming her eyes as she walked past the unwanted guests in her home and bolted to me, quickly wrapping her arms around my waist and bursting into tears, my body jolting back in shock. My arms hovered over her for a second, unsure where to place them or how to react to her body gripping to mine. But I soon placed them down, holding her back weakly. I was completely empty in that moment, my face lacked all emotions. I was drained. “I don’t know what to do.” She sobbed to my chest. “She’s been gone for a week I don’t know what to do!” I few mumbles emptied my mouth, but I couldn’t quite string a sentence together. I couldn’t have said anything to comfort her or myself, I was just as much of a mess as she was. I was losing my mind, I couldn’t even believe I had the strength to keep myself stood. Because of her hold on me, I had nowhere else to look other than the people inspecting the blood, using some kind of equipment to trace the splatters, concern running their faces. I felt so sick to the stomach, I just looked down, looking to the strands of Rachel’s dark hair instead. “They don’t know where she is.” She continued. “They can’t find her.” “I... I know.” I mumbled. “I’m so sorry.” She said, pulling away from me. I looked down to her shivering frame, confused as to why she was apologising to me. If anything, I felt as though I should have been apologising to her. For everything. “What?” I baffled. “I’m sorry. I know you loved her and-” “Loved?” I interrupted. “I love her Rach. Don’t say loved, please. It’s like she’s gone if you say that. Don’t fucking say that. Please don’t say loved.” “I’m sorry, Harry, but I can’t help it!” She said with her hand on her chest. “It’s been a fucking week now and we have nothing. What do you want me to think?” I covered my face with my hands, shaking my head, trying not to let her words infiltrate me, but her lack of faith was aching my bones and making me subconsciously agree with her. We both thought she was gone. Then the atmosphere changed even more so, as I coated man walked over to the two of us, a serious look on his face. “I’m sorry, but you two need to leave.” He said. Rachel shot her head round to look at him, still slightly riled up and upset, all her emotions getting the better of her as she snapped at him. “This is my fucking home, you can’t tell me to leave!” “I’m sorry, Miss, but you really have to go.” “What’s going on?” I asked breathlessly. “We’ve finally found some blood that isn’t hers.” My eyes widened, gently being pushed from the room backwards as he ushered us both out. My heart stopped beating for a few moments as I stared at him, my mind completely puzzled by what he had just said. “Wait... what?” Rachel gasped. He finally got us into the corridor, trying to slam the door in our faces but I didn’t let him. Anger crossed my body as I placed my foot in the doorway, stopping it from being slammed shut entirely as I gave him a piercing stare through the gap in the door, my nostrils flaring as I stared at the fully-grown man irately, trying to threaten him somewhat. “What does this mean?” I asked, austere. He sighed with slight frustration, knowing that he probably shouldn’t give me the information we were asking for, but he decided to just be decent about it instead, thankfully. “It means... there’s a chance we can find out who was here. We might even be able to find where they live.” I whispered a thank you, moving my foot from the door as he gave us a sympathetic smile, now gently closing it rather than slamming it in our faces. A slight glimmer of hope glazed over my body, the thought that they could find the sick bastard who had done this to the girl I loved, and he could get the punishment he deserved. And if we were lucky, we could find Anna. Alive.

[welshjule]

You got me begging you for mercy

To my Friends, Family and all Readers,

Welcome to my first blog. Every week I will be posting a story ‘loosely based’ on my life in Australia since 1982. My aim is to provide a little escapism in a sometimes-hard world and to hopefully make you laugh. The content will be mature themed as I am in no way attempting to be a role-model!

Happy reading my Darlings

Let me know what you think.

Ju xx

Perth, Australia.

January 1995

It was a Sunday night and I had just put my daughter Alice to bed. The house was red hot, the windows were wide open and there wasn’t a breeze; it was like living inside a sweaty sock. Summer in Perth can be brutal and it is a dry, burning heat that scorches the hair on your arms and rips the skin off your feet if you try and walk barefoot outside. The temperature had hit forty degrees that day and I only had two stand-up fans, so a load of our family and friends had been swimming at the local pool.

We got home and Alice, who was about five years old, spent about two hours in a cold bath – in her bathers, underwater, face-down and pretending to be dead! My job was to run in and rescue her every so often but I kept forgetting. I gave the nickname ‘Insane Alice’ to my daughter when she was very young because she was my wild, brave, curious nutcase, who always had something to say and most of it was somewhat demented. Over the years, we dropped the Insane bit and it was just Alice, but to tell the truth, she’s still a bit touched.

My Father called her ’his Alice’ for thirty years.

So, my exhausted daughter was now asleep with a wet towel on top of her and a fan blowing hot air around her room.

Walking into the kitchen, I stuck my head under the cold tap until my hair and face were soaking wet. Grabbing an ice-cold beer from the fridge, I wandered out to the garden and laid back on an old lounger. Tracey Chapman was singing about a fast car as I lit a fag and skulled my beer.

The house was like a furnace and there was no reprieve outside. From November to March, you went to bed sweating and you got up the same way. We lived in a low-income area and nobody had air-conditioning; you just had to deal with the heat.

At that time, single mothers didn’t get to choose the houses with alarm systems and swimming pools. We could only afford tired, old rentals with dripping taps and broken flyscreens and to make matters worse, I was cleaning two ‘beach-front’ mansions a day while Alice was at school.

 #These were palaces, with huge swimming pools, wine cellars and balconies overlooking the blue ocean and I earned a pittance. I had to shut my mouth like Ruby from ‘Upstairs, Downstairs’ when the ‘lady of the house’ complained about smears on the bathroom mirror or dust on the roof because I needed the money.

Looking around now, my poor garden looked so sad; that unrelenting ball of fire had burnt the beautiful flowers I had planted and singed the lawn so badly that it was now just dry, straw.

I was feeling a bit weird and conflicted because everyone around me seemed to think that I should be trying to find a man to ‘look after me and be a father to Alice.’ Don’t get me wrong, it was said with kindness, but I was bored of the whole thing.

Thirty years ago, there was a real stigma attached to being a single mother. If your marriage failed but the dad was still on the scene with the kids, that was ok. If there was no father in sight, it played with people’s heads.

I chose to leave Alice’s father when she was a baby and bring up my daughter alone and I loved it.

I didn’t have a man and I didn’t really want one.

But some people just weren’t comfortable with it. Was I a lesbian? Did I hate men? Was I flirting with their man? They wanted to set me up with their husband’s mate from Bunnings and it was all, ‘We’ve got to find you a nice fella’ and ‘you can’t be too fussy.’ What a cheek! I was thirty years old with no visible hump on my back. Who were they thinking of wheeling in? Alf F##king Stewart?’’

There was a lot of pressure

And It wasn’t like I hadn’t tried.

I’d been to Bachelor and Spinster Balls, joined ‘Parents Without Partners’ (very creepy) and even went to ’Japanese conversation ‘night classes because everyone told me ‘There are loads of divorced men learning languages now Ju. There will be blokes everywhere.’          The only man I ever spoke to was wearing a grey cardigan and had just retired from the civil service.

God knows I tried

And I was about to try again

In 1995, there was no tinder or instant messaging because there were no mobile phones or computers (well not in our house anyway). People had to leave their residence and go hunting in pubs and clubs on a Saturday night for their own Brad Pitt or Pamela Anderson and it was utterly soul destroying.

But I had the Wanneroo Times and I was on a mission.

This local community newspaper had started printing adverts in their classifieds for single people wanting to meet a partner. It was basically, ‘man seeking woman’ or ‘woman seeking man’. Then, everybody told massive lies about themselves; ‘very attractive, happy go lucky, no baggage, loves a good red wine and walking on the beach at sunset.’ It was ridiculous but that didn’t stop me filling in the form.

My advert said,

If you are a sports fanatic and watch it on tv all weekend – read on

If you are bitter about your wife taking everything from you in the divorce, we’ve already met - read on

If you like pina coladas and getting caught in the rain, warm winter fires, bubble baths and collecting driftwood. Stop reading Sir, for you are a dead set serial killer.

I didn’t say much about me, just,

’blonde, thirty, likes to write.’

And I posted it off.

It took a week to receive any responses.

I’d been watching ‘Robin Hood, Prince of Thieves’ and wondering how I could get in touch with Kevin Costner to tell him I was waiting for him here; in the hottest, most isolated corner of the world!

But I was feeling quite hopeful and ready for some romance in my life. I spent most of the week singing ‘You know it’s true, everything I do, I do it for you.’

On a Monday morning, the postman dropped an official looking, brown envelope into my post box and I had seven letters!!

Buzzing with excitement, I made a cup of coffee, lit a fag and opened the first one.

He had a wife but they didn’t sleep together. He desperately needed passion in his life, maybe two afternoons a week! Yeh right, dream on!

Three more were married and just wanted a bit on the side.

My fifth would-be suitor boasted of a body tattooed from his neck to his toes and a willingness to provide colour photos. I just couldn’t stomach it!

And the sixth little gem was a smooth-talking illiterate who claimed to be a ‘mad rooter’ but added that, ’If I was a ‘Fat Sheila,’ then not to bother eh!’

I could feel a black depression impending; Was I supposed to settle for this group of no-hopers?

But there was one letter remaining and that was written by a man named Fred.

Fred was English and had been in Perth for a couple of years. He worked in some office and liked Guinness. That was good enough for me!

We spoke on the phone a couple of times and met for a quick coffee. He was a nice bloke and didn’t seem to be deranged. He asked me to go to the movies to see ’Braveheart’ and I said ‘’lovely.’’

So, its Friday night and I am sorted. Alice is staying at my parents’ house and I have a date!

The Commitments are slaying Mustang Sally and I am drinking a vodka and tonic. My hair is a work of art! It has been washed, blow- dried, straightened, back-combed and gelled, plus I’ve used half a can of hairspray, so this hairdo is not shifting.

On goes the make-up, a pair of jeans that are much too small and a black shirt. Sounds simple doesn’t it?

But it is still 32 degrees at 6.30pm and the sweat is dripping down my back. I am sitting on an ice pack with my feet in a bowl of cold water and the pedestal fan is coughing, stale air at me like an old family dog. The jeans are slowly roasting my legs, the underneath of my hair is soaking wet and the makeup is dripping off my face.

But I don’t care, because I’m looking good, the house smells of ’Red Door’ perfume and I’ve had a few puffs of a lovely old joint I found on top of the kitchen cupboard.

I am ready for action!

Fred turned up at about seven and he looked very smart with jeans and a blue shirt. He was quite a portly fellow, very suntanned and with a completely bald head. I don’t know if he’d ever had any hair and I didn’t really care.

I was flying!

We were a bit early for the movies so we went for a drink first. The pub was practically empty but the night was young, so I told Fred that it was my shout. He asked the ‘gothic and heavily pierced’ barmaid, if she could make him a flat, white coffee and she looked at him with complete disgust. I ordered a double vodka and we sat down for a chat. I really wanted to find Fred attractive but he wasn’t giving me much.

He had a very strong Yorkshire accent and was into cycling and re-cycling. He started telling me about sustainable compost heaps and I just glazed over.

But, as I sat looking at him, the room started spinning and Fred began to morph into Dierdre Barlow from Coronation Street and a brown, boiled egg.

That old puff was strong!

’’I’m that choofed you chose me lass,’’ he said ‘’and I’m having a grand time, but I’m not one for the drink.’’

’Jesus Christ! When am I going to cop a break?’ I thought, ‘I’m a thirty-year-old woman wearing skin tight jeans and high heels. My legs are shaved, my elbows moisturised and I HAVE THE HOUSE TO MYSELF!! Who gives a shit about recycling?

I didn’t want to talk about Fred’s ‘loovely bunch of lasses at work’ or ’the benefits of riding a bicycle.’

My life consisted of chicken nuggets, nit shampoo and a daughter who was obsessed with a demonic dessert called Strawberry Shortcake. This nauseating strawberry cake had three best friends called Apple Dumpling, Raspberry Tart and Cherry Cuddler. They sounded like a bunch of sex workers and their pimp was a freak called ‘The Prickly and Peculiar Pieman from Porcupine Creek. Alice had it on an old video and played it constantly. She had been speaking in an American accent for about three weeks and I was over it!    

 I wanted to act like a teenager. To get absolutely wasted, fall-down drunk and extremely immature. I wished Fred would suggest a drinking game so that we could get really loud and find everything hysterical. I needed him to make me laugh because that is sexy. I wanted to completely skip the bloody movie altogether!

Nah, take that back.

Fred was, in fact, an egg that spoke with a Yorkshire accent and he was boring me to death.

So, we walked to the cinema and bought our own tickets, (very civilised), then I was straight into the Candy Bar. Buying a very expensive choc- top ice-cream and some popcorn, I asked Fred what he was having and he said,

’’Nah, I’ll not have owt, I’m watching me weight.’’

That really irritated me because I’d been considering a box of Maltesers too and now I couldn’t have them because I would look like a pig.

We found two seats in the middle row. The place was packed out because it was the first night the film was showing.

‘’So, Fred, what’s this Braveheart about then? It’s not going to be all blood and gore is it?’’ I asked.

“I don’t know Julie, I haven’t seen it,’’ he said, but it translated to, ’’Ah doon’t know jooleh, I’ve not seen film.’’

Now, don’t forget, I was deep in the grip of Sherwood Forrest and I thought Braveheart would be similar; some battles, dodgy accents, a love story, some fantastic one-liners ‘a la’ Alan Rickman.

I thought wrong.

The beginning of the film showed the beauty of Scotland with some hauntingly lovely music and a softly-spoken narrator. By the time I had eaten my choc-top, there were bodies of men, women and children hanging from beams, heads chopped off and the stabbing and slashing of everyone in sight; including the poor horses.

I was in a hell of a state!

Alice always compares me to the late, great, British comedian Larry Grayson when I am out of my comfort zone and am shocked or horrified. I get flustered and loud, highly camp and completely over the top.

I have to have things explained to me very clearly.

This film was way beyond my comfort zone.

My hands were over my eyes and all you could hear from me was ‘’Oh my God, when are they going to stop killing?”  ‘’Oh, that’s gross!’’  ‘’I can’t look!’’  ‘’Why is there so much blood?’’ ‘’What’s happening Fred?”

And then an English soldier ties Braveheart’s beautiful bride to a tree.

I’m thinking, ‘’hurry up Wallace and save your woman.’’

Everyone is waiting for Mel to rescue her but he’s missing in action.

And the English Bast##d slits her throat!

Now, we still had about three more hours of this film to endure and the main character’s wife was dead. I just couldn’t believe it. She was exquisite, almost heavenly.

What was going on?

Í nudged Fred, ‘’What’s happening Fred? Is it a flashback or a dream? Is she coming back?’’

I was beside myself.

Fred was getting a little snippy at my endless questions and bad language because I couldn’t stop saying ‘’Oh F#ck’’ every time a limb was chopped off and it was constant carnage. It simply never stopped.

There was a teenage boy and his girlfriend sitting next to me and I tearfully asked the boy what he thought was going on. Did he think the lovely Marrun was coming back? Was it a flashback? He just looked horrified and two minutes later they both left.

So, now I’m crying and it’s serious. I’m absolutely gutted about useless Wallace not getting there in time and I don’t really feel like watching anymore.

Worse though, I haven’t got a tissue!

I am sobbing and my nose is running and I am doing that unattractive, hiccupy thing.

Fred’s forgotten his handkerchief and I’m hyperventilating and trying to quell my hysteria. But it’s just so sad and all you can hear in the whisper quiet audience are my racking sobs and sniffs. In the end, I had to use a KitKat wrapper and the sleeve of my top to wipe my nose. (yeh, I know, disgusting).

So now I’ve got to sit through another 150 minutes of butchery and treachery, heads in the mail, people being thrown out of windows and the mass raping of young maidens. It was relentless and I was suffering very loudly.

Fred was peeved, “Nah then, Jooleh, joost try to be a tad quieter pet. I can’t ‘ear film.’’

I was frazzled and I hadn’t even got to the torture of William Wallace.

What a joy that was!

About thirty minutes of Mel being hung, drawn and quartered very slowly with some lethal weapons (sorry, I had to).

First, he spits out the anaesthetic drug the princess slips him and then he refuses to shout ‘mercy’ to end his own torture. It was all too much and I kept shouting ‘mercy’ at the screen and crying loudly, but Mel just kept hanging on in there.

William Wallace was no pussy!

Eventually though, all the organs have been removed from his body and he has to die.

In his last few seconds alive he sees his wife, Murron, walking through the crowds, waiting for him and she is so beautiful, it’s heart breaking. Braveheart shouts ‘Freedom’ and I’m completely finished.

Before anyone could move, I was out of my seat. ’’I’ll see you in the foyer Fred,” I sobbed and ran to the toilets before the lights came on.

My body was shaking, my legs were like jelly and I was sweating. I felt like I had given birth to ten-pound triplets in an African hut, alone and without pain relief!

Then I saw my face in the mirror and stopped dead.

The old mascara I had found in the kitchen drawer was not waterproof and I had these black spider lines all down my cheeks. My eyes were smudged with dark grey eyeshadow, my nose was bright red and my face was blotchy and oily, with no trace of a base!

For some reason, my hair had also suffered and it looked like a yellow bird’s nest that had been sat on.

I hadn’t brought a handbag out with me, just a small purse, so the only things I had to rescue this complete disaster was a ten dollar note, a factor 30 lip balm and a furry tic-tac.

Everybody was coming into the lady’s toilets now and they were all looking at me. One girl came over and pretended to care but I saw straight through her. I’d heard some of her friends laughing at me during the torture scene.

I didn’t have a spare head so there wasn’t much I could do. I just washed my face, blew my nose and went out to meet Fred. I refused to look him straight in the eye though because I was hideous.

As we drove back to my place, the car was silent and I knew that Fred was sulking.

He eventually said ‘’Appen, A’Il see film again wit’ lasses from work. I missed most of it!’’

I thought, ‘’Oh do one, you Bloody tart, you are definitely not coming in for coffee.’’

We hit my driveway and I jumped out of the car like an Olympian.

Fred said something that sounded like ‘’See thee soon then Lass’’ and I said ‘’lovely.’’

Slamming the front door, I felt shell-shocked.

I jumped under a cold shower, washed off all the makeup and gunk from my hair and tied an old sarong around myself. Making a cup of tea and some toast with Nutella, I grabbed the remote and sat on the sofa.

Two minutes later, it was just me and Kevin.

I didn’t think I would ever hear from Fred again, but he rang a few nights later while I was watching ‘Home and Away‘ with Alice.

‘’Ow do Jooleh love, can ya guess where I am?’’ he asked jovially.

I froze. Oh my God.

“You’re not outside are you Fred? ’I asked,

‘’Nah’’, he chuckled, ‘’I’m lyin’ in’t cold tub, sipping hot brew and eating an apple pie. Blooody Bliss!’’

I hung up the phone and we never went out again.

Dating makes me realise why I’m not married!

If you liked this story, there’s a lot more to read because Alice and I have been writing tales ‘loosely based’ on our lives for many years, with the hope of finally finishing a book called ’A Mother like mine.’ Every Saturday, I will be publishing a blog so that you can read it over the weekend. Sometimes, Alice will write one too.

We will talk about love, losses and dating disasters, womanhood, teenage years and being a Welsh, single parent family in a rough-arse suburb of Perth in the nineties; from our two, completely different perspectives. I will even tell you how my true love literally walked through my front door and I almost took Alice to live in Texas! Our stories will be mostly funny but there will also be our recollection of some hard times. Nobody escapes them and sometimes it helps to read about other people’s battles.

 Future titles include;

‘The Good, The Bad and the Aussies’

‘A Gang of Gary’s’

‘Doyawannarootorwhat’

‘Sorry about my little fella?’

‘Six months pregnant or a Tattoo?’

[wr8tur]

SCI-FI SCREENPLAY (Day 3 Popular/Nerd AU)

She's typing furiously as she glares at her screen, drowning herself in the sound of her fingers clacking against keys, hoping if she keeps pushing through inspiration will strike. But alas, it continues to allude her so finally, she smashes her palms on her desk. She releases a breath but it does nothing to quell her frustration.

She doesn't bother reading what she's written, opting instead to press the command and the A button before ultimately hitting delete.

Whatever was on that page was nonsense, she's certain. She'd only been writing her frustration, cursing herself for having no idea, for being unable to create an actual plot. But for the plot to come she'd have to have a general idea. And for the idea to appear she'd have to feel inspired. Sadly creativity is lost on the poor writer nowadays.

She pushes away from her desk. A change of scenery won't help but still, she finds the air in her office stifling so she heads over to the living room, ready to plan herself on her couch when her phone begins to ring.

It's a call from her manager/agent. She debates declining the call but she knows the woman will just hound her incessantly until she picks up the phone so Lena saves herself from having to face a frustrated Englishwoman by answering the call, she doesn't say anything, just breathes into her phone and that's enough for her friend to know she's clearly still frustrated.

"Writer's block still?" there's concern obvious in her tone.

Lena knows it's for her and not for the fact that the Englishwoman won't be able to peddle anything new to her publishing house because Helena Wayne, heiress to Wayne Enterprises, doesn't need the money. She's merely supporting her friend.

"It's been weeks…" Lena murmurs into the phone.

"Seeing as it'd be pointless for me to suggest that you venture outside of your domicile…" she knows her all too well. "I've arranged for inspiration to be brought to you."

"What is it?" Lena questions suspiciously.

"Just your open your door when the package comes." Helena orders, leaving no room for argument, and Lena just sighs in defeat because she knows from their years of friendship that the other woman can be quite relentless. "And enjoy yourself but wait…" Lena hears a click and looks at her phone screen only to discover that her friend had hung up on her. It doesn't take long for her phone to start ringing once more. This time Helena's Facetiming her so she warily accepts the call and watches as her friend's face comes up on her screen. "Pull your phone back." she orders.

"What for?" she gazes skeptically at the fact on her phone.

"Just do it." Lena doesn't move and Helena rolls her eyes. "I want to see what you're wearing." the author's brow arches and Helena watches as a diabolical grin forms on her friend's face.

"About five years too late to be demanding vid sex from me, no?" she teases.

"You perv." she rolls her eyes but decides that it was her fault for phrasing her request almost so wantonly. "It's not for that."

"As much as I'd relish ravishing you I thought we agreed we'd be better as friends?" they'd tried dating a while back in University but they decided that as good as the sex was, and it was quite good, they would fare better off if they kept things platonic. Well, mostly platonic.

"You're an arse." Helena insults with a small laugh.

"But you love me and my gorgeous arse anyway." she winks at the other woman who just shakes her head in amusement.

"Who else would put up with your gigantic ego?" she responds fondly. Her deep blue eyes look her friend up and down. "Damn you for being an effortless beauty." she compliments with a hint of envy lacing her tone. "You don't even have to try!" it always frustrated her in college, how she'd have to brush her unruly waves back while Lena's beautiful raven locks always looked so immaculate. "Anyway, my care package should be arriving in about ten minutes. I expect to hear all about it tomorrow!"

She ends the call before Lena can ask just exactly what her friend is sending. The author just looks at her front door, wondering what Helena has in store for her. Years have taught her to expect the unexpected from the Wayne heiress.

The doorbell inevitably rings and she apprehensively heads toward the door.

Perhaps she's merely being paranoid. Though it's justified considering the last time she had writer's block Helena had come by with tomahawks and three bottles of her favorite wine. Needless to say, the combination had been chaotic. Luckily neither of them ended up in the hospital but she had a fantastic time remodeling her backyard.

As she nears the door, the aroma hits her and she smiles, a little guilty that she's thought the worst in her friend. It smells like Chinese food so she eagerly opens the door.

And she's right, there's a box filled with Chinese takeout boxes. But she can't revel in her victory when shock is still coursing through her system because she's surprised to find a beautiful statuesque blonde standing on her doorstep, holding said package in her hand looking uncertain yet excited.

"Hi!" the blonde squeaks. "Helena, Wayne that is, yes Helena Wayne sent me here today!" she announces and Lena's gathered as much. "Um, I have your copy of the revised script but she says I'm not supposed to give it to you until after you eat, so I think that means I'm supposed to have a meal with you?" she looks down at the multitude of food she's purchased. "But I guess this is weird isn't it?" the reality of the situation just seems to be hitting the familiar stranger and Lena swears she's seen the ranting blonde somewhere before. "You don't seem to know who I am," there's amusement mixed with relief and astonishment twinkling in her eyes when she says this. "And I showed up with food, inviting myself to eat dinner with you at your house." it seems like a strange meet cute but Lena knows Helena's capable of making such arrangements happen. "This sounded so much better when Helena was saying it. It's probably her accent."

"It's quite alright." she decides to interrupt the blonde's adorable frantic speech.

"Oh my god," the blonde's eyes look like their about to pop out of her head. "You're Irish." she sounds completely mesmerized by her new revelation.

"Is that a problem?" Lena questions but the star struck look in the woman's bright blue eyes indicates it's quite the opposite. "Ms.?" she's utterly amused and finds herself understanding why Helena would send this frenzied femme her way.

"Definitely not a problem!" she shakes her head. "I just didn't expect you to be…"

"Irish?" she's teasing but the blonde seems to be too wrapped upon her discovery, too absorbed in wonder, to properly function in the presence of the raven haired author.

"Hot." she says like it's supposed to be the most obvious thing in the world. "That sounds like I'm objectifying you doesn't it? I'm sorry…. I'm just really nervous and I have a tendency to say the first thing that's on my mind but I know you're smart!" she assures. "You're incredibly intelligent, and witty, and I know this because I've read all your works." she's clearly acting much like a fan who's meeting their idol for the first time. "You're not just drop dead gorgeous."

"You're quite generous with your flattery." Lena replies kindly, finding herself taken by the blonde's unbridled nature.

"I'm being honest." and Lena can practically feel the sincerity pouring off the stranger. "Your work is simply marvelous. The way you write is so captivating that I always have a hard time putting the book down even just for a second." she continues to fawn over the author.

"Forgive me, I'm not used to dealing with fans." Lena's uncertain what to say, how to react.

"Right." Kara figures because the author's never been an interview or a press tour. "There's not a lot of people who know who you really are." there's a sense of regret that fills her entire being because only now does she realize that she's actively inserting herself into someone's private life. "You don't even put your picture on the author page."

"I'd like to thank you for bringing my copy of the script and for that wonderful compliment." Kara smiles, kind and regretful, in return.

"I apologize for just coming here unannounced and now as I'm standing at your door, I realize how insane I was to just show up." she bows her head in shame. "I guess I was just eager to meet you and when Helena said you're probably never going to show up on set, well I guess I became desperate." she looks at Lena. "You see, I fought for this role because I wanted the chance to meet you." it's honest and raw and Lena can't help but be captivated by her sincerity. "But I realize now that if one my fans just showed up in my house, I would probably call the cops."

"It is a little mad," Lena finds herself saying. "But I always say that we should seize opportunities when they present themselves." she steps aside and gestures for the blonde to enter. "Please, do come in." Lena invites her inside, apparently following her own advice.

"I'm Kara, by the way." she says as though she knows a secret that Lena does not.

"Lena." the author introduces her true name.

"Lena?" the confusion covering her face is quite adorable.

"Katherine McGrath is my pen name." it's clear to Kara that the woman is clearly a very private person. "And you do realize that Helena's basically set you up to have dinner with me?" she says as Kara continues to follow her to the living room. "As in romantic capacity?" she wants to clarify.

"The thought had crossed my mind when she started fiddling with my hair." Kara admits with an amused smile.

"And you willingly came to a stranger's house?"

"Well, I figure if someone like Helena Wayne is vouching for you, then chances are I'll be fine." she shrugs as she empties the box onto the coffee table.

"You're quite a gambler." Lena says as she hands Kara a chopstick.

"Not usually." Kara admits. "But it's not everyday I get to share a meal with my favorite author."

"It could be." Lena finds herself saying because she can't think of an instance where she was able to converse with someone with such ease. "I suppose it all depends on how the night goes, no?" she plants herself on the couch. "So how exactly did you cross paths with Helena?"

"At the script read today."

"You're an actress?" perhaps that's why she seems familiar to the raven haired author. "Forgive me, I'm not really adept with popular culture." she doesn't want to insult the blonde by insinuating she isn't famous.

"It's fine." it's actually quite nice, Kara thinks and says as much. "It's been a while since I've met someone who didn't know who I was." it's been years since she last walked into a room without everyone clamoring over her. "I'm actually a model and this is my first acting project." she confesses shyly.

"Kara Zorell." Lena recalls and the model can see the recognition in her eyes.

Of course Helena had been gracious enough to inform her of the members, both the cast and the crew, who are taking part in the movie adaptation of her novel series.

She remembers Helena talking about the lead actress, remembers her being described as sweet and innocent, but most importantly remembers that Kara is the most famous supermodel in the entire world. She vaguely remembers her friend mentioning that the woman before her is the most followed individual on Twitter and Instagram.

"Yes." she's nervous all of a sudden, like she'd been caught stealing from a cookie jar. "That's going to be a problem, isn't it?" Kara knows her stardom will undoubtedly attract unwanted attention.

"Probably." Lena tells herself it's too early to decide anything.

Deep down she knows she shouldn't go down this path. She's chosen anonymity for a reason. But there's something about the blonde, her uninhibited disposition perhaps, that Lena finds simply irresistible.

She ultimately decides to just let things run their natural course. Yes, the blonde is attractive and she'd bed her in an instant but that doesn't mean she'd want anything more than that. There's still a lot that can happen to deter her interest because apart from knowing the intruder is a supermodel and that she's quite a fan of Lena's works, the author doesn't know anything else about the woman.

But she'd like to though, to know all about Kara whose eyes sparkle like ocean waves glimmering with the rays of the sun that meets its surface.

She should probably stay away from this woman who easily flusters and smiles too openly. Still, she finds it impractical since she felt something stir as soon as Kara opened her mouth. She felt it, in her veins, the words singing to her mind, loud and impossible to ignore, much like the blonde who brought about those emotions.

Inspiration came in the form of a blonde supermodel holding a bag of Chinese food. She'd never hear the end of this from Helena, she's certain.

XXXX

She doesn't know why she's here. Scratch that, she does. She's here because a certain blonde bombshell pulled her patented puppy pout. Damn those bright blues.

So now, she's sitting here eating lunch with the team in charge of making the novel adaptation of their movie because Helena demanded her involvement while Kara bartered an outing at her favorite vegan restaurant. Of course, only Helena and Kara know that she's the author. Helena had only introduced her as an associate producer whose name won't be credited in the film.

She listens to them talk about promotions, production dates, and she mostly tunes the shop talk out, offering a smile and small laugh when she deems it appropriate.

Mostly she's counting the hours until the lunch meeting is over.

"It's actually Lena's idea." Kara speaks and the aforementioned woman turns toward the blonde whose eyes sparkle with pride. "I mean, it would certainly make the scene a lot better." James Olsen, the director of the film, nods his head with an accepting smile.

"So, you've read the script then?" Maggie, one of the producers, questions.

"I glanced at it." she replies Helena smirks knowingly and Kara just looks warily at the others. She can sense James, Maggie, and the other producer Alex's, apprehension seeing as this complete stranger has been privy to what's supposed to be a private and detrimental part of their film. "Now now," she raises her glass and takes a sip of her wine. "The secret is safe with me."

"If there's one thing Lee can do it is keep a secret." Lena can see Kara's eye twitch from her peripherals as Helena places a hand on her arm. "Lee here has had a hand in all my other projects."

Her fingers linger unnecessarily long on the raven haired author's appendage and Lena knows it's because Helena's watching Kara from her peripherals. The writer draws her arm back, glaring at her amused friend, before sending a comforting smile toward the blonde who seems to be embarrassed at being caught.

"And what do you think of our mysterious author?" the woman with auburn hair, Alex Danvers, questions.

"A tad pretentious." this garners a small chuckle from Helena and a slight frown from the blonde. "I mean, she's written the script without meeting with you, without hearing your inputs." it seems utterly childish, playing with the unsuspecting crew, but Lena just wants to know what this project means to these people.

"Well, the reason why we picked this book, picked her, " Maggie Sawyer begins. "Is because we believe in her voice and we certainly don't want to stifle it."

"Katie McGrath is a true artist," Alex adds. "She's in it not because she wants fame but because she loves what she's doing." Lena smiles then, glad to see that her deeds haven't been misconstrued. "We're fortunate enough that she agreed to let us put her vision in film."

"I think she's brilliant." Kara cuts in, looking at Lena with that megawatt smile of hers.

"Of course you'd say that." Lena remarks with an affectionate look in her eyes, one that she doesn't bother masking. "I seem to recall Helena saying she is your favorite author after all." Kara is hardly unbiased.

"Well, we can hardly blame Kara for that." James puts in his two cents.

The rest the lunch goes a little more smoothly from there, with Lena finding herself as a willing participant rather than a hostage. When it ends, Lena's stopped counting the seconds, finding that she truly enjoyed herself. Now she's venturing toward the valet attendant booth with Helena by her side. The taller brunette's linked their elbows together as they walk.

"I do wish you'd stop instigating these little moments." Lena gently disentangles herself from her mischievous companion.

"Well I'll stop when you start shagging that blonde." Helena comments knowingly. They'd been dancing around the issue for weeks. "I saw your latest chapters so I understand she's certainly aroused inspiration." she informs the raven haired author who thinks she really must revoke the Wayne heiress's key privileges to her home. "Like I thought she would." just as Lena suspected. "And I've seen how you look at her, how she looks at you." it's quite undeniable really. "She's been wet for you since the moment she read a sentence from your first book." it's been obvious to Lena as well. "Put the girl out of her misery for crying out loud." Lena wants to point out that the blonde isn't the only one who's suffering. "And you can do with a romp in the sack, God knows I won't always be around to do help you out on that front."

"Kara and I aren't a good idea." she doesn't want to complicate things any more than they already have been.

"Let her go then." Helena smiles when she sees those usually composed emerald greens fill with fright at the thought of having to go a moment with Kara. "You don't want to." she points out the obvious truth. "Then stop torturing yourself and seize the moment." she advises her stubborn friend. "I suggest you find another ride home." here Helena was, creating an opportunity.

"I came here with you." her eyes narrow dangerously at her friend.

"I positively won't give you a lift home, but I'm sure Kara will be more than happy to ride you." Lena swallows her protest because it's pointless to argue with her friend.

Helena gives her a quick friendly kiss on the cheek before hopping into her Jaguar, leaving Lena with her thoughts. The author stares as her friend drives off, giving her no choice but to enjoy a ride back home with Kara, who's still talking to the director about the film.

Lena walks closer to the blonde but stops when she's within earshot of their conversation, discovering that it most certainly has nothing to do with the movie.

"Would you like to have dinner with me sometime?" James asks.

"To talk about the film?" Kara sounds utterly hopeful that this is the case. It isn't that she's too presumptuous, because she doesn't believe that everyone out there want to bed her, but she's not oblivious enough to not notice James's lingering looks. "I mean, why else would you want to have dinner with me?"

"I was hoping it would be a date." James clarifies. "I know, it's completely unprofessional but you know, I think we're mature enough not to let it interfere with work."

"I'm seeing someone." Kara blurts out, surprising Lena.

"I figured you would be." James chuckles because a woman like Kara can't possibly be single. "I'm sorry, I just thought I'd take a shot." he smiles, letting her know there's no harm done. "I'll see you soon though, after we hash out the last revision of the script and gather a few Vis Dev pieces." he makes his leave and the model sighs.

She turns and sees Lena standing there with a blank look on her face. The supermodel shuffles on the balls of her feet, looking around the area for a wavy haired brunette with a killer English accent.

"Helena's disappeared?" she can't help but be more relieved.

"She thought I should bother you for a ride home." Lena smiles though Kara can't help but see that it's a little strained and that her eyes lack that playful luster she's come to adore.

"You could never bother me." she assures.

The ride to Lena's abode is without conversation. The sound that fills the car is emanating from Kara's playlist and it's utterly unnerving because they have ever spent a tense moment with each other, not even when they first met.

But there's too many words floating on the tip of Lena's tongue that she can't decide what she wants to say.

Apparently there's also a subject that Kara wants to approach because she's being uncharacteristically quiet, just content to focus on her driving, but Lena can tell she's tense because she's gripping the wheel quite tightly.

"Thank you for the lift." Lena all but scrambles out of the car and if she slams the car door too loudly, she doesn't really care.

"Lena wait!" Kara clambers out of her seat, closing her own door, as she rushes to Lena. "Can we talk?" she doesn't want to leave things like this, tense and cold, with so many words unsaid between them.

"Not here." emerald eyes looks around. The last thing she wants is for her debacle with the renowned super model to be plastered on tomorrow's papers. She heads inside her house, leaving the door open for Kara to follow. "What is it that you wish to discuss?" she questions as soon as Kara's closed her door. "Kara." she presses, patience never having been one of her strong suits especially when she's frustrated.

"You and Helena," she begins and Lena's eyes narrow dangerously at the blonde who seems to know she should be choosing her words carefully. "Are you…" she doesn't know how to begin, how to phrase the question that's haunting in her mind, "Is she…"

"We're friends." Lena decides to put the poor woman out of her misery and besides, they'd be here all night if she is to let the model steer their conversation.

"Friends don't look at each other like that." Kara remarks disbelievingly.

"You mean like how you look at me?" Lena scoffs. "Honestly you've quite a lot of nerve demanding answers when you didn't even tell me you were dating someone." she practically sneers.

"What?" Kara seems startled by the question. "I was talking about you!" and now it's Lena's turn to be baffled. "I kind of… well I know you said you thought it'd be a problem, me being famous and all that, but you haven't outright said no to me so I kind of thought that you were just trying to test the waters to see if I was worth it?" all this time, Kara had thought they were kind of dating. The blonde had been intent, apparently, on proving that she's relationship material for the clueless writer. "Then I saw you with Helena today so I thought maybe that's why you're still hesitant." Kara groans. "Oh my god, you thought we were just hanging out, didn't you? I'm such an idiot." she states depreciatingly. "I knew I should have brought it up but then it didn't seem like a good idea since we're always having a good time."

"You know," Lena intercedes, cutting Kara off from ranting further about their misunderstanding. She steps toward the blonde who seems to be gauging her actions. "If you had kissed me, things would have been certainly clearer for us both." she stops when she's pressed against the blonde.

Kara inhales and it is Lena, fresh like evergreen trees with a hint of lavender, which she breathes in happily.

"I was trying to respect your boundaries." for the life of the super model, she can't remember why she hadn't just made a clear move, because everything about her is intoxicating and Kara wants nothing more than to drown in Lena. "But mostly I think I was afraid."

She was afraid of being rebuffed, not because her pride would be hurt, but because she didn't want to risk Lena turning her away.

And Lena knows, this is the moment where she can decide whether to let the blonde go or take a leap with the super model. While Kara stands there, looking so open and vulnerable with her heart on her sleeve so ready to share herself with the author, Lena believes there's only one choice she can make.

She brings her hand up to caress the super model's cheek, loving how Kara instantly melts into her touch, how soft the model's skin is against the back of her knuckles.

Bright blue eyes darken with desire as they look upon her ruby red lips before drifting upward to meet her gaze.

The author is aware that she's merely looking for a sign to not press forward. She's giving the author another instance to back away. She's awarding her the opportunity to forget this ever happened because this is who Kara is, incredibly selfless and thoughtful.

Lena stands her ground, moving her hand from Kara's cheek to the back of the blonde's neck, her thumb tangled in the model's golden tresses.

It's enough reassurance for Kara.

She surges forward, pressing their lips together. Lena readies but when their mouth's meet, she realizes she's underestimated the severity of the model's feelings for her.

Kara kisses like she's water and air and whatever else she needs to survive. Her mouth moves against Lena, urging yet still so soft and tender while her hands wander, trailing her burning desire along Lena's skin. It leaves Lena yearning for more as fire begins to well in her core and she's certain she'll be consumed.

She doesn't know how, doesn't even remember moving, but somehow they find themselves in the living room.

Her knee buckles as Kara swipes her tongue inside her mouth but luckily the blonde's got a firm grip on her hips. Lena moans when the blonde sneaks her hands through her shirt and lifts her up. She responds by wrapping her legs around the taller woman's waist. She leads them toward the bed, laying Lena down as though she's placing precious cargo on the mattress, all while conveying her unbridled desire for the author.

If she weren't so damned turned on, she'd probably pat herself on the back for bringing out this raw animalistic side out of the meek and mild mannered model, but she's far too preoccupied with ridding Kara of her shirt to really commend herself.

They part only when it's necessary to divest each other of their clothes and when Lena's naked underneath her, Kara's eyes sweep across the author's body, marveling at her beauty.

Hours later, when they've both exhausted themselves, bodies unable to further fulfill their willing spirits desires, Lena looks upon the sleepy satiated blonde.

Kara seems to gather what little strength she has left in order to take Lena in her arms, locking them around the author as though she's afraid she'll disappear and find this was all but a dream. Lena responds by placing a kiss on her collarbone and trailing circles around the woman's chest.

"Hey Kara," she murmurs as she too begins to feel the side effects of their passionate encounter. "Feel free to violate my boundaries any time."

XXXX

It's great, how they are together, because Kara's attentive and gentle and caring and oh so thoughtful in and out of the bedroom while Lena, she listens, treats Kara like she isn't a blonde bimbo with great legs, and pays extra special attention to her even when they have their clothes on.

Things are pretty much the same as they were before, but now they spend half of their time together with significantly less attire on, and kiss every opportunity they get.

And there's a moment, when Lena thinks that's it's easy, that she can do this, be the girlfriend of a huge celebrity.

It lasts until Lena's picture starts hitting the tabloids. At first she's a fuzzy figure on newsprint but soon the pictures start getting clearer and it if weren't for the huge sunglasses that are always adorning her face, she's pretty sure the media would have figured out just exactly who she is.

They call her the mysterious Raven haired hottie because they don't know who she is yet. Still that doesn't stop them from already writing her narrative.

There's the various headlines with her picture in the front pages, with the word CHEATER in all caps and big bold letters. On the bottom picture of her with Helena, the pair of them out at lunch like they do at least once a week, as per Helena's demands of course.

And she wants to ignore it but now the tabloids seem intent on discovering who she is. She knows it's only a matter of time before the quiet life she lives is completely disrupted.

She also knows that she should stop but it's hard to do when the first article on her yahoo news page is a picture of her holding Kara's hand. She flips clicks on the next picture and can't help her outrage. Too engrossed is she with what she's seeing that she doesn't notice her girlfriend entering their apparently not so safe space.

"Hey Lee," Kara greets, pressing a warm kiss on her temple. "Oh." the blonde catches a glimpse of the photo on her screen. "I'm sorry."

And Lena knows it isn't her fault. That if Kara could she'd break all those lenses, rip out their SD cards, and burn all those trashy tabloids. But Lena's angry and she's seeing red all around and the closest thing she has to lash out on is poor Kara Zorell, the supermodel who's drawing unwanted attention to her once private life.

"If I wanted people to talk about me, I'd be working at Luthor Corp with my father." she pushes away from her desk and practically hurls herself in the furthest corner away from Kara. "I'm an author and all I want to do is write peacefully," Kara nods because that's been obvious to her from the beginning that Lena doesn't want anything to do with the Luthor infamy. "Without worrying about my bloody picture being taken through a window in my own home." she gestures at the paparazzi shot of her working on her laptop.

"I'm sorry." her apology just seems to make things works worse because Lena finds herself dealing an unexpected and completely new feeling; guilt. "I'll tell Winn to handle this, keep you out of the papers as much as possible."

"I'm afraid that won't be enough Kara." she wants to save Kara from herself.

"You're right," the blonde smiles then, that warm and gentle smile that's reserved for Lena. "We should probably lay low for a little while, maybe take a trip somewhere? I don't think I have anything too pressing next week. Just a commercial shoot that'll probably take a day or two at the most." she's already checking her schedule in her head.

"That's not what I mean." she cuts the blonde off.

"What are you saying then?" Kara asks, hoping she's misreading that defeated look in Lena's eyes.

She turns away from those bright blues, unable to bear them dulling because of her next actions. Her focus is instead on the tabloid photo of herself on her laptop. It fuels her next actions.

"I need space." Lena demands.

"I know, that's why I'm suggesting we should take a break somewhere." because Lena's house is no longer a safe from prying eyes so it's time for a new locale. "Maybe go on a ski trip? That way we'll be in masks and no one will be able to tell who we are."

"I need space from you." but it sounds too much like good bye so Kara feels the back of her a stinging in the back of her eyeballs.

"For how long?" she questions, surprised she's able to keep her voice steady.

"I don't know." it sounds too much like forever and there's a searing stabbing pain in Kara's ribcage, making it harder for her to breathe. "I don't know." she repeats with uncertainty.

"Okay." it's all Kara can say without bursting into tears.

She turns around, unwilling to let Lena see her so broken, not out of shame but because she knows it'll only cause her guilt. And she doesn't want Lena to feel any worse about the situation than she undoubtedly does.

Neither does she want to make things worse by arguing with Lena. So she leaves, hoping time will help.

XXXX

Her phone rings by her side and she picks up, knowing there's only one person in the world that would dare call her right now. It's Alex Danvers one of the producers of her first venture in the movie business. She also happens to be Kara's manager but most importantly, she's Kara's best friend.

"I have a package coming for you in the next twenty minutes and I know you're not going to want to miss it." ever the direct woman, Alex hangs up after that, leaving Kara to glare at her phone screen.

The doorbell rings and Kara reluctantly vacates the comfort of her couch, not wanting to face the wrath of Alex Danvers.

The supermodel opens the door only to find Lena Luthor standing in front of her condominium hallway. The blonde does fairly decent impersonation of a fish, her mouth opening and closing as she struggles to formulate a proper sentence.

"Lena…." and suddenly Kara's very glad she actually showered today. "Come in." she ushers the author inside. Lena passes by and her scent wafts through the blonde's nostrils. It sobers her and she's suddenly very aware that Lena's entered her messy condo. "I'm sorry, I wasn't really expecting company." it's a little untidy and unkempt and it's clear that Kara's probably spent the weeks since their fallout in the confines of her apartment, refusing to go out into the world. It's apparent with the blanket on the obviously slept in couch and the pizza boxes on the coffee table in front of the television that's playing The Notebook. "But I guess it's only fitting since I barged in your house the first time we met." she smiles at the memory.

"I apologize for dropping by unannounced," Lena smiles, assuring Kara she doesn't mind the mess. "I wasn't sure you'd want to see me." she looks around the living room of Kara's condo, seeing as it's the first time she's entering the space, deciding that despite the mess it looks very homey.

"I always want to see you." even after they hadn't exchanged words since their last encounter, that fact has not and probably will never change.

"I come bearing pot stickers, nonetheless." Kara had been too preoccupied by Lena's presence that she hadn't noticed the takeout bag in Lena's hands. "I didn't want to be completely rude and not bring anything." and for the first time since they've met, Lena finds herself completely at a loss for words.

"Thanks." she smiles that smile meant just for Lena.

Kara takes the opportunity to take the bag from Lena's hands and place them on the coffee table. She takes the stacked empty pizza boxes, disappearing into the kitchen to put them in the trash.

"I'm…" Lena begins as soon as Kara's in her line of sight. "You must be wondering why I'm here." she watches as the blonde comes closer. "I apologize for being rash…" Lena she states but she doesn't get a chance to finish because Kara's closed the gap between them, pressing their bodies together, as she pulls Lena in for a searing kiss.

"I missed you." It's been three long grueling weeks since she last felt the woman under her fingertips.

"I'm sorry." their foreheads are pressed against each other, her arm wrapped around the taller woman's neck while Kara keeps her hands secured on Lena's hips. "I was angry and frustrated and I took it out on you," she swallows. "On us."

"It's okay." Kara assures.

"It's not." because at the first sign of trouble she pushed the sweet and caring Kara off on her own. "I turned you away," she recalls with remorse coursing through her being. "I hurt you." it's probably her biggest regret, one she's certain she'll never commit.

"You needed time." she whispers gently.

"How are you so understanding?" she'd come prepared to grovel but apparently Kara won't allow her to wallow in her grief.

"I'll always try to understand you, to prioritize how you feel." she keeps her hold on the author, arms strong and unrelenting as the vow she's professing. "That's what you do when you love someone." Kara rationalizes. "And I do you know, love you I mean." green meets blue and Lena knows she's being completely honest and true. "I love you."

"Still?" she sounds small and uncertain she deserves such a tender heart's devotion.

Kara answers by dipping her head down, placing her lips upon Lena's once again, slow and steadfast, as she affirms her most constant truth. One that Lena still needs to accept. And Kara will make damn certain she does.

She grips Lena, holding her close, as she kisses her senseless, gently guiding her toward the couch, unable to contain her passion and her desire any longer. Besides, they can always relocate to her bedroom afterwards. But right now, she has to quench her thirst and demonstrate her devoutness to the author.

Kara gently lowers Lena onto the cushions of her couch wasting no time in divesting the author of her pants, eager for her fingers to find home once more.

"You realize this means that I'm never going to let you go." Kara murmurs against Lena's lips as they break apart. "That the next time you're angry I'm not going anywhere, no matter what you say." she elaborates before melding their mouths together in a familiar dance. "You run, I chase." she professes.

"I push, you pull." she replies, accepting the blonde's conditions and all the love and devotion that Kara's offering.

She rids the model of her shirt, glad to see that the woman isn't wearing a bra today as she willing takes a taut nipple in her mouth, loving the way Kara arches into her further as she all but rips the blonde's boy shorts off.

And so this is how it continues, the love story of a world famous celebrity and an anonymous author.

[entergamingxp]

DualShockers’ Favorite Games of 2019 — Tanner’s Top 10

January 1, 2020 1:00 PM EST

While my list includes a couple familiar favorites, 2019 still had a bunch of other great games that I got to enjoy all throughout the year.

As 2019 comes to a close, DualShockers and our staff are reflecting on this year’s batch of games and what were their personal highlights within the last year. Unlike the official Game of the Year 2019 awards for DualShockers, there are little-to-no-rules on our individual Top 10 posts. For instance, any game — not just 2019 releases — can be considered.

Come one, come all. Gather ’round kids, it’s finally time to listen to Tanner’s tale about what he thinks were the best games of the year. This year was a bit of a slow year for games, to be honest, as 2019 really only picked up right at the tail end of the year. Like many, I feel like this year will have a lot of variety of opinions between people, rather than just the usual lists like every other year where a couple games dominate the conversation.

While you’re reading, please keep in mind two things: one, this is just my opinion of the games I had the most fun with this year. Some of these titles weren’t released this year, so I want to make that clear right from the get-go. Secondly, this is not comprehensive of every game released in 2019. I still have yet to play Resident Evil 2, Devil May Cry 5, and The Outer Worlds, among other titles. If your favorite game isn’t here, that doesn’t mean I didn’t like it. It might mean I just didn’t play it. Unless your name is Apex: Legends, which I did play, and hated.

Honorable Mention: Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order

I started Fallen Order only a few hours ago as of the time of this writing and, honestly, I already wish I could put it higher on my list. Given the fact that I just started it though, I felt that was cheating a little bit.

That being said, Fallen Order‘s gameplay feels absolutely incredible and I can’t wait to see where the story goes from here. Despite a few graphical issues and bugs here and there, I feel like if I were to have played the game earlier, it would be very high on my list, possibly even my Game of the Tear. Sadly, I must keep pressing on.

Check out DualShockers‘ review for Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order.

10. Fortnite

I’m kicking off my list with a couple of repeats from last year because I feel like they both, once again, deserve shoutouts. For as many problems I have with the game (mostly in terms of the building aspects), Fortnite had an absolutely killer year. Between its insane The End/Chapter 2 event and its surprising Star Wars crossover that added freakin’ lightsabers, the battle royale game garnered my attention too much for me to not put it on the list.

Something about the Chapter 2 event changed my opinion on this game and while I can’t put my finger on it, I’ve been having a great time with it ever since the update. For that, I feel it deserves a spot on my list.

9. Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Links

Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Links has been on my top 10 lists at DualShockers for three years now and, honestly, I don’t feel bad about it one bit. This game is absolutely phenomenal. Konami just keeps on adding content to the game and it’s rare that it’s not good.

In the past couple of years we’ve been getting content based on the anime spin-off series, but in 2019 Konami decided to change it up a bit by adding cards and characters based on The Dark Side of Dimensions anime movie (which was funnily enough released in America the same time that Duel Links originally was back in 2016) and, once again, it’s mostly all solid content. I still play this game on a weekly basis and don’t plan on stopping any time soon. Until that happens, I feel like it deserves a shoutout on every top 10 list.

8. My Friend Pedro

So this was a very late entry, only getting my hands on the title a few weeks ago after The Game Awards. My Friend Pedro is just pure fun. Plain and simple. It feels, control-wise, what the Deadpool video game should have been. The controls feel great and slowing down time while blasting enemies is so much fun; I legitimately get goosebumps every time it happens.

Do I care about the story? Nope. Do I have any ideas what’s going on in the world? Nope. Am I have fun doing flips, pulling off trickshots, and jumping on walls? Absolutely. My Friend Pedro needs to come to more platforms so more people have a chance to play it. Hell, bring it to Vita. It’ll probably feel right at home there.

Check out DualShockers‘ review for My Friend Pedro.

7. Trials Rising

Trials Rising, besides Yu-Gi-Oh!, is probably the most niche title on this whole list. Its gameplay is certainly not for everyone, but as a huge fan of the series over the years, I loved my time reviewing the title. Completely and utterly failing a level and still having fun at the same time is why the Trials series, in my opinion, really shines.

It’s ridiculous, and this game is absolutely no exception. It doesn’t try and take itself seriously, and that’s totally fine. For god’s sake, you can even use a tandem bike in Rising and it’s hilarious to struggle with controlling, even though you are quantifiably failing the level each and every time. Plus, the user-generated content allows for even more fun, ridiculous times.

Check out DualShockers‘ review for Trials Rising.

6. John Wick Hex

Well, I’ll be honest, I never thought I would put a strategy game in my top 10 Games of the Year list, and yet, here we are. John Wick Hex is a title that completely took me by surprise earlier in 2019. When it was announced, only the fact that it was being made by Bithell Games got my attention. But after playing it at E3 2019 and reviewing the whole thing in October, it quickly became one of my favorites of the year. The gameplay is tight, the art style is awesome, and it feels both authentically Bithell and John Wick.

Now, bring the title to consoles so I can play through it again!

Check out DualShockers‘ review for John Wick Hex.

5. Yu-Gi-Oh! Legacy of the Duelist: Link Evolution

I know what you’re thinking to yourself: “Two Yu-Gi-Oh! games on the same top 10 list? That’s a little cheap, don’t you think?” Honestly, I felt the need to put both on here because I liked both equally in 2019. While Duel Links does have a lot of content, it is a more condensed experience. That’s where Legacy of the Duelist: Link Evolution comes in.

This Switch title includes the full card lineup, full five-card field, as well as story and character missions for the first five Yu-Gi-Oh! series. Plus, since it’s on the Switch, I can also take the game on the go, just like Duel Links. And with more content coming in 2020, I’ll be playing Link Evolution even more as time goes on.

4. Ori and the Blind Forest

After not being able to get my hands on Ori and the Blind Forest for years due to it being exclusive on Xbox One, I was finally able to sit down and play it thanks to the game’s Nintendo Switch release earlier in 2019, and I absolutely loved it.

Between the game’s stunning locales and tight platforming, I adoring my time with the game. And the fact that I got to play it on Switch and take it wherever I went made it an even better experience. Now I just need Moon Studios to port the upcoming sequel Will of the Wisps on to Nintendo Switch, and all will be right in the world.

Check out DualShockers‘ review for Ori and the Blind Forest.

3. Super Mario Maker 2

I have to say, I’m not a Nintendo first-party fan. I didn’t grow up with these properties, so I have no affinity for them whatsoever. I’m only saying that because if I think a Nintendo first-party game is one of the best of the year, that’s really saying something. I’ll be honest, I’m not the biggest fan of Super Mario Maker 2‘s “story” mode (if you can even call it that). However, I am a huge fan of user-generated content, and in that regard, the game absolutely delivers. I spent hours just diving into the various user-created levels, in awe by the creativity that members of the community have.

Games with UGC included will always gain my attention to their–essentially–unlimited replay value. I could easily see myself coming back to the game in a year or so and seeing just how much the community has come up with.

Check out DualShockers‘ review for Super Mario Maker 2.

2. Death Stranding

Ok, so Death Stranding easily became my most anticipated game of 2019 when the release date was announced. I personally didn’t think it was hitting at that time, so when that got announced I was incredibly excited. Finally, we would be able to dive into the crazy world that Kojima had built for us.

After the first few hours of the game, I was hooked. I was ready to learn more. And then Chapter 3 showed up and that feeling went away after I realized I was going to be spending an insane amount of time in this one section. My friends and co-workers encouraged me to keep pushing forward, that the grind was worth it in the end. And once I saw the credits rolling, I found myself agreeing with that sentiment.

The story and performances found in Death Stranding are phenomenal. While Mads Mikkelsen and Tommie Earl Jenkins definitely deserve praise for their performances, I feel like Troy Baker’s performance as Higgs was also one of the best of year. I constantly found myself on the edge of my seat every time he would show up in the world, wondering what he would do next.

And there’s no way I can talk about Death Stranding without mentioning how gorgeous the game looks, even on a base PlayStation 4, which is where I was playing. Regardless of how you feel about the overall game, you have to respect how well-polished and visually stunning Death Stranding is. Was it worth the hype? In my opinion, yes.

Check out DualShockers‘ review for Death Stranding.

1. Call of Duty: Modern Warfare

In my opinion, no other game had a better overall package than Call of Duty: Modern Warfare. Everything in the title was top notch. The campaign was absolutely exceptional, leaving behind Call of Duty‘s traditional, action movie feel for a more nuanced, thoughtful experience. In addition, new life was brought to Captain Price, making him a more sympathetic and relatable character than his previous incarnation, while at the same time introducing new characters with their own unique personalities.

On top of that, the multiplayer is also incredibly solid and, beyond some balancing issues with claymores and shotguns at launch, continues to be the most fun experience I have had in a game all year. I may be in the minority on this, but I feel like Modern Warfare‘s map design is some of the best and most unique we’ve had for the series in years. Of course, I don’t like every single map in the game, but I feel like overall there are way more great maps than bad maps.

While I’ve put the least amount of time into Spec Ops, the little I’ve played seems to be a ton of fun. These are more akin to raids than anything else, which requires extreme coordination. While I haven’t really been able to sink my teeth in the mode, the little I’ve played of it is extremely fun and I could see myself spending hours in there when I get some raid buddies.

Is Modern Warfare perfect? Nope. But my top Game of the Year doesn’t have to be that. It has to be the game that I enjoyed the most this year and, in that regard, this title certainly takes the cake.

Check out DualShockers‘ review for Call of Duty: Modern Warfare.

Check out the rest of the DualShockers staff Top 10 lists and our official Game of the Year Awards:

December 23: DualShockers Game of the Year Awards 2019 December 25: Lou Contaldi, Editor-in-Chief // Logan Moore, Managing Editor December 26: Tomas Franzese, News Editor // Ryan Meitzler, Features Editor  December 27: Mike Long, Community Manager // Scott White, Staff Writer December 28: Chris Compendio, Contributor // Mario Rivera, Video Manager // Kris Cornelisse, Staff Writer December 29: Scott Meaney, Community Director // Allisa James, Senior Staff Writer // Ben Bayliss, Senior Staff Writer December 30: Cameron Hawkins, Staff Writer // David Gill, Senior Staff Writer // Portia Lightfoot, Contributor December 31: Iyane Agossah, Senior Staff Writer // Michael Ruiz, Senior Staff Writer // Rachael Fiddis, Contributor January 1: Ricky Frech, Senior Staff Writer // Tanner Pierce, Staff Writer // Laddie Simco, Staff Writer

January 1, 2020 1:00 PM EST

from EnterGamingXP https://entergamingxp.com/2020/01/dualshockers-favorite-games-of-2019-tanners-top-10/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=dualshockers-favorite-games-of-2019-tanners-top-10

[deadcactuswalking]

REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 19th August 2018

This is probably just gonna be a bit of a slap-dash episode since I just finished my list of the best and worst hit songs of 1994 and I’m kinda drained, but we’ll still have to get this out so here it is. REVIEWING THE CHARTS for the week of 19th August, 2018.

Top 10

First of all, we have a new #1... but it’s not exactly new at all, since it has been #1 for a few weeks before, it’s just returned to the top spot after it usurped Drake. I’m not mad at all that this is our new #1 – I may not be fond of it, but it’s better than Drake. George Ezra’s “Shotgun” is up one spot to #1.

Speak of the devil; here’s Drake with “In My Feelings” featuring City Girls, down a space to number-two. I hope it stays there, or better yet, decreases even more, although it still has the stronghold over “Shotgun” in streaming.

Not moving from last week at number-three is “No Brainer” by DJ Khaled featuring Justin Bieber, Chance the Rapper and Quavo.

Surprisingly, “Eastside” by benny blanco, Khalid and Halsey has zoomed past competition as it’s increased eight spaces to number-four.

“Rise” by Jonas Blue featuring Jack & Jack has since gone down a single space since the success of “Eastside”, leading it down to number-five.

At number-six, we have a two-space increase for Loud Luxury and brando’s “Body”, which I’m glad is increasing as much as it is, even if it’s just for the fact that they’re both relatively unknown artists.

Oh, yeah, at number-seven, we have “Youngblood” by 5 Seconds of Summer down two spaces.

Unfortunately,”Jackie Chan” by Tiesto and Dzeko featuring Preme and Post Malone has jumped two spaces down to number-eight.

Meanwhile at number-nine, the identical hit has effected “Girls Like You” by Maroon 5 featuring Cardi B, which is ALSO down two spaces.

Thankfully, NOT down two spaces, is “Taste” by Tyga featuring Offset. Not sure how I feel about a pedophile featuring a homophobe having a song (that I personally like) in the top 10 of both the US and UK, but that’s a whole thinkpiece I won’t be writing.

Climbers

Unsurprisingly, there are a few big gains but otherwise nothing of note here. In terms of smaller six-space gains, we (sadly) have “Nevermind” by Dennis Lloyd up to #19 and “Ocean” by Martin Garrix and Khalid up to #25, but we also have an inexplicably massive gain for “079ME” by B Young, up 11 spots to #28. Please don’t let this become a top 20 hit, just for the sake of preventing humanity and society crumbling under your hands. Oh, yeah, and pathetic human being Nicki Minaj had her album Queen release, so naturally “Bed” featuring Ariana Grande (who will also have some gains due to HER album next week) increased up 15 spaces to #23.

Fallers

Naturally, we have two losses for Travis Scott after ASTROWORLD had three tracks debut on the chart last week. “SICKO MODE” featuring Drake and Swae Lee is down six spaces to #15, while “STARGAZING” is, tragically, down 12 to #27. However, there’s only one other loss, and it is just an absolute collapse for “I Like It” by Cardi B featuring Bad Bunny and J Balvin, down 17 spaces to #31. It’ll undoubtedly be out next week, unless people revenge-stream Cardi because of the nonsense Nicki’s been spouting for the past two weeks, I don’t know. That probably won’t happen but it’d be kind of funny to see Nicki not get the #1 album after how desperate she was, and then have her “rival” succeed, though pitting female rappers against each other is borderline sexist and does not help normalise females in a more-often-than-not male-dominated genre, which is something Nicki could actually learn from... Huh. Anyway, this isn’t a Nicki Minaj roast, she has a new entry so I think I’ll rant about her there.

Dropouts

Well, we have a few utterly demolished tracks that dropped out this week, like “Butterflies” by AJ Tracey and Not3s now out from #22, “Oh My” by Dappy featuring Ay Em struggling as it’s been kicked out from #27, and “CAROUSEL” by Travis Scott featuring Frank Ocean being pushed out from #29, but that’s it, and there’s no Returning Entries either, so welcome back to:

The Ed Sheeran Update!

“Perfect” is down only a single space to #61, and “Shape of You” is up a single space to #76, somehow. Can these just go away, please?

Now to the part all three of you were waiting for...

NEW ARRIVALS

#40 – “When I Kissed the Teacher” – Lily James, Jessica Keenan Wynn, Alexa Davies and Celia Imrie

You probably shouldn’t be doing that.

Anyways, this is an ABBA cover, straight out of the hit musical Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again, which I actually checked out because, my, my, how could I resist it? Well, it’s okay, not particularly my thing, but definitely watchable, however I am surprised that it took this long for a song to get into the top 40. Let me preface this by saying I strongly dislike the ABBA version, mostly because of the... interesting vocals and how everything feels so manufactured and pretty sickeningly sweet, which is incredibly unfitting for the subject matter. I don’t like the song at all, but I’d recommend “Scandalous Scholastics” by Gym Class Heroes for a better take on a student-teacher affair. It’s a pretty awful track but at least it’s a bit groovier and has some darker swagger, as well as an eerie yet catchy chorus, which is actually pretty creepy in some way, especially that it’s implied that 1.) they had sex, 2.) Travie McCoy, the singer, is still in school. He gets into some detail and the charismatic “so sexy!” ad-lib I know Travie for... yeah, well, this is the only time it should not be there, in fact, do NOT check out that song, what am I talking about? It’s horrible.

This cover, though, is somehow even worse. I don’t know who’s singing at what points because, honestly, who cares? Nevertheless, the instrumentation is cookie-cutter yet still over-processed so that it drowns out the singers, who try to belt and struggle, with some not-at-all subtle multi-tracking from seemingly better singers that isn’t helpful at all. I do like that they have more charisma for the most part, making the admittedly funny geometry line sound so much better, and I do appreciate the fact that there are female singers talking about a female teacher – now, that’s cool – although it doesn’t really make much sense in the context of the film, at all, because I’m pretty sure they all have male love interests. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m not sure if your teacher is the best to experiment with, Lily.

#37 – “Don’t Leave Me Alone” – David Guetta featuring Anne-Marie

David Guetta, okay, you’re cool, you’re fine, I like you. Anne-Marie, nope, go away, please. I liked her in “FRIENDS”, initially, but, man, she can definitely become pretty insufferable. Don’t get me wrong, she’s a good singer, but the attitude and forced faux-Jamaican inflections rub me the wrong way. You know what else rubs me the wrong way? How the beginning of the song sounds like stock Windows-activating sound effects. It sounds like it’s a buffering loading screen for God’s sake. Regardless, Anne-Marie sounds okay and I do like the subtle touch of the guitars and especially the piano chords under Anne-Marie and I believe Ed Sheeran harmonising in the pre-chorus, right before a pretty cool Vocaloid drop. I have really grown to love these things, as you can probably tell from my “Solo” review, and this was am especially great one, because the autotune is turned up to insane levels and the vocals sound like they’re stretched and manipulated over the hard-hitting but pleasant synth tones. The combination of the drop and some of the vocal chops with the pre-chorus melody is just fantastic. I can look past the flat production in the verses if that chorus is as incredible as it is. Damn, that surprised me. David Guetta, you win again, and I’m excited for your upcoming album.

#36 – “Barbie Dreams” – Nicki Minaj

Okay, let’s get this over with. This track caused a lot of buzz because it’s basically a tribute to a Notorious B.I.G. song full of light-hearted disses torwards people who she is friends with, and you know, I like a bit of pointless rap beef and some disses can be pretty fire even if they are completely uncalled for. I mean, I prefer hard-hitting, absolutely awful personal disses like when Pusha T slaughtered Drake and held his decapitated head over a building in “The Story of Adidon”, but I like a bit of light-hearted no-harassment-intended jabs so, let’s see what she’s got.

Well, first of all, I love the slick beat and her flow is pretty nice too. Too bad it’s all taken from “Just Playing (Dreams)” by Biggie. This is a remix then? Okay, well, you didn’t preface it as such, but that’s fine, using someone else’s beat isn’t bad as long as you spit some nice bars over it. So, what’s the “Queen of Rap” got for us? Well, she starts with some complements... yep, she just says she wants a man to settle down and have some kids, and either them or the man will look like Lil Wayne or Dave East, but they’re already fathers, so I’m assuming she wants a man who is as good of a dad as Wayne and Dave are to their kids. That’s a very nice thing to say.

Man, I ain’t got no type like Jxmmi and Swae Lee

Okay, but the song you’re referencing by Rae Sremmurd, “No Type”, makes it pretty clear that they’re joking when they say they don’t have a type, given by how they immediately contradict that statement?

I ain’t got no type / Bad b****es is the only thing that I like – Swae Lee, “No Type”

Oh, they’ve actually tried to argue that “bad b****es” are NOT a type? Okay, well, then, secondly: That’s not a diss, that’s just mentioning them in passing.

Then she gets into some admittedly funny (and probably true) disses to 50 Cent, making some nice wordplay with other members of G-Unit like Tony Yayo and Lloyd Banks. That’s all fine and dandy. Then she mentions Karreuche Tran... Tran... Tran...

Used to f*** with Young Thug, I ain’t addressin’ this s**t / C-caught him in my dressing room, stealing dresses and s**t

Okay, well, that’s insensitive and incredibly uncalled for. If the dude wants to reject typical gender norms, more power to him, but Thugger, you probably shouldn’t be stealing her dresses, man, and I’m pretty sure this is related to that, and is no way meant to be offensive or transphobic.

They switchin’ like sissies now – Nicki Minaj, “Majesty”

On the same album? Uh, I mean, well, okay, but maybe that’s also misinterpreted...

First they love you, then they switch / Yeah,they switch like f****ts

Yeah, okay, 1.) I’m not uncensoring that word, you know what it is, and 2.) Yikes, Nicki! I know that was back in 2009 but these recent lines prove you haven’t changed, in fact, all of these recent antics prove you haven’t changed, at all! You collaborate with a pedophile, then you try and play the feminist angle – after collaborating with an absolute scumbag who respects women as much as a tampon made out of bricks – to explain why your album didn’t get to #1, although it still sold pretty well, even though you don’t label yourself as a feminist as you’ve stated before. In fact, this whole track is just to stir up controversy and attention, isn’t it? You wanted that #1 album so desperately that you added a song that’s not even by you to your album, then you put out a lot of trash merch, some of which was promoting 6ix9ine, all of which came with a copy of your album, made JAY-Z give you a discount code on TIDAL that literally gave the album away for free, however, due to a faulty system, made all albums on TIDAL free to download, probably causing serious financial issues in the future for Jay, leading to him having to release the rest of Prince’s discography onto Spotify (not necessarily a bad thing), and reported fake news when you were projected to sell 190,000, only to be proved to sell less when the final numbers were released, all for a #1 album, which you only wanted out of spite for Cardi being more successful than you, because, I don’t know, she’s not an absolutely trash human being who doesn’t know how to promote a damn album? I guess you could say the TIDAL issue wasn’t her fault, but, yes, it was, as if it wasn’t for her own desperate need for a #1, the code wouldn’t exist at all. At least that’s only one line, right? She doesn’t cross the line otherwise.

Shout-out Desiigner ‘cause he made it out of special ed

You called a man struggling to hold onto his crippling career which is still under the hands of Pusha T’s mismanagement, being forced to constantly promote himself because his label definitely isn’t, who’s probably in debt right now, and just desperately trying to pick up the pieces to still live while doing what he wants to do – music, trapped under a label that doesn’t let him succeed, who released a better and more consistent EP this year than any project you’ve ever put out, retarded because of the energy he puts into his songs, which you, missy, are severely lacking in, despite the fact that your mentor and person you want your husband to be like, Lil Wayne, was in the same dire situation for nearly a decade, and you and Drake have been carrying him and helping him still strive in the industry while he’s being trampled on and confined by the tyrant of a label owner Birdman? Yeah, nope, not having it, you’ve lost all my respect, Nicki. I don’t usually focus on lyrics as much as I did here but when they’re this ignorant and disgusting, I think I’ll stream Cardi instead, you petty, little child.

Conclusion

“Don’t Leave Me Alone” easily gives David Guetta and Anne-Marie the title of Best of the Week, as Nicki Minaj takes Worst of the Week for “Barbie Dreams”. Hopefully I’ll have calmed down by next time. See ya!

[dwestfieldblog]

THE HOLE OF THE LAW

Hello at exactly 3.33 in the morning...with 1 black coffee, five cigarettes...Coil and Jajouka. More ranting pseudo revelations from the back brain...

 Early April... Another birthday and failed suicide. Better luck next time, try harder. My thoughts will have the same effect, just slower and with greater pain. I could really enjoy life more if I were a masochist, but I aint. Have to make your own entertainment eh? 'When in doubt, choose life'. The mirror is the window through which?.........? comes. Fill in the blank...with the Void. All this negative optimism must be unhealthy but this poor boy finds wealth in a monochrome prism... Instinct: don't argue with it; it knows better than you - because it doesn't think, (a defence mechanism.)  I used to get monthly nose bleeds...like periods of unused ideas... flushing away after my pre minstrel tension. Now they are coming every second or third day. Ho Hum. (Cz- Uf) Nice to wake up swallowing my own blood, makes a change from someone else's.  A masculine star fire ritual....No reason for a lowering of personal standards eh?

 So, the usual first paragraph of fresh, shaved bollocks out of the way... Spring forward, advancing towards contact...rapid fire of the mind...delivering the damaged goods, always on time and on the off beats...arf. Christ, I NEED sleep...but...

 'We place no reliance on Virgin or pigeon, our method is science, our aim is religion'

 Do what thou Will shall be the Whole of the Law...fascinating (although not surprising) how many misinterpret this to mean 'do whatever you want'. Perhaps Hassan I Sabha's 'Everything is permissible' is to blame...but more likely is that too many of those with an interest in the occult have not been taught or learned how to read, feel, then think. Intellectuals can be just as stupid as idiots. But they can talk better. (Although I sometimes wear glasses, I am far closer to a fool than an intellectual. And not in the tarot sense.) 'Everything is permissible' was an instruction to his assassins that it was acceptable to eat meat, drink alcohol etc, etc in order to blend in with those who one was going to kill. That is one of the reasons they were so damn good in their work. Anyway, back to Mr Therion himself...Do what is your WILL. Your deepest, strongest, truest desire. Channelled, focused, directed, shot like an arrow of intention. NOT hey man/sister, anything goes, sex is great so lets get wired and f**k. (Although that can be beyond celestial, it is temporary and has no actual permanent benefit on the evolution of the soul. Which is why we are all here eh? Arf. Peacefully fighting the counter evolutionaries... Tantra imprints and rewires, but requires a little discipline. At least.) 'At the gates, against the skin'....

 Anyone who has such insanely strict religious parents (Plymouth Lay Brethren) as did A.C, is certain to rebel and 'identify' with 'The Great Beast', but he put a lifetime of genuine study into results and conclusions....Decades later...Hippies, Punks, Goths drinking fake blood following a very poor assortment of sects, cults and New Age fakery, just because such groups are seemingly less rigid and stand against the old guard. Substituting one Father/Mother fantasy for another does not move humanity much further on. The Finger to the newer groups of manipulators for their blatant usage of those who choose to be lambs.

 There is as much poison in the roots of scientology, mormonism, jehovah's witnesses and various consciousness expansion/'magick' groups as there is in the catholic church or any other extremist bunch. I swear I am not in a bad mood, just close to collapse these last two months in Nin Khursag's chambers of creation, Love and destruction and tired of 'rebels' who don't, just follow another dubious leader, however charismatically they talk about sex and freedom and wear black... or a magick crystal consecrated in moonlight. Ufff...Come ON people...

 'Nothing is true'. (HiS) The reality we have been taught to accept, has very little basis in fact, on any dimension. Our perceptions are a fraction. And as for 'God'...or  @God as I typed by accident... Now there's a cheerful idea, God tweeting. Just look around you and read with senses.

 (If you ever want to see real propaganda, just look at the calendar....)

 Sooner strangle an infant in its cradle than nurse an unfulfilled desire...

 So said William Blake, the infamous baby throttler...well, I have been trying to fill full all my nurses...but as usual, some strangling must be done when it comes to other infantile people who would get in the way of my laser focus on desire. Its a hard days rain that's gonna fall... Back to early morning notes on scraps of paper whose chaos is not random...

 'She tiptoes a tightrope above a chasm of total destruction, partly sexy and the other half, horror. Trying to find herself by losing her mind while I systematically delete all photographs where I smile. The work of a lifetime. Erased by the final love: It took but one cycle of the moon in a breathing darkness. Kindness touches most those who are helpless. Older and foolish. Stupid actually. A man lost on his journey to the other side of his brain. Got to laugh...Seemingly magnetically attracted to disaster, I cannot remove her from my heart, so will close the mind, cut away and compartmentalise, (not a long term healthy thing to do)....Served with madness as the obvious first response...a question of perception and how one reacts to confusion... (The cynic seeks to avoid the hypnosis of the heart)'. But..

 'My heart is becoming...focused...my intention getting stiffer, Great minds think alike baby but fools we seldom differ...the opiate of her is making me dizzy. I need a new distraction, so I'm keeping myself busy... writing lyrics for instrumentals...a twisted psychopath simultaneously gentle and rabid at the capture, utterly irrelevant and hypnotised by rapture...by the elemental nature and tripping on my own adrenal glands...It wasn't the drugs or the high school experiences, I've been weird forever and have the liver of a 23 year old.  In my fridge'.

 Saw a large girl in Prague last week with a T shirt that said 'I'm Special, Like a Unicorn'. She was eating a rainbow.

 Not much 'news' I have glimpsed (Praise Shakti) ...Trump and Merkel... surrounded globally by folk with open mouths, the majority stunned by human incompetence, the rest, his supporters, just with a little drool rolling down their face and a vacant expression. Ignore the porky blonde's early morning duck tweets. Still so happy I dropped the news...with all my heart, I recommend this. And I as recheck this...Trump has missiles fired at Syria and Russia warns of reaction. Ho Hum. Boys with toys. Assad, you used chemical weapons against your own people. They were not 'terrorists'. You WILL pay. Trump, you have been strongly advised to show a temporary fist to Putin's nose in order to make the USA think you are not a tool and an easily manipulated puppet. That's all. You could not care less if Assad suffocated innocents in their own blood and mucus.

 'As democracy is perfected, the office (of President) represents more and more closely, the inner soul of the people. We move toward a lofty ideal. On some great and glorious day the plain folks of the land will reach their heart's desire at last, and the White House will be adorned by a downright moron.'  

HL Mencken, 1920.

 Been on only three Demonstrations...against Capitalism in 1984, Fascist racism in 1990 (both in London) and Communism in 1999 outside the Chinese embassy in Prague. Will have solved nothing for people's pain but it showed me an example of some of the idiots who protest just for the sake of having a ruck/a party/wanking their middle class ego. Nice balance of 'isms'. Crass were a good education though:-) 'Why is it, they ask, that you don't write love songs?...Our love of life is total, everything we do is an expression of that – EVERYTHING WE WRITE IS A LOVE SONG!'    Yes Sir, I Will (Crass)

 'There's nothing that you offer but the dream of last year's hero...

THE TRUTH OF 'REVOLUTION', BROTHER; IS YEAR ZERO.'

 Hope the uninitiated get the reference to Pol Pot and Cambodia...

 My previous blog was posted just before the London home-grown terrorist car drive took place.. Does the fundamentalist perception of Allah (blessings be upon him etc) really allow them to 'accidently' kill even their own kind when they drive on pavements, explode on streets, in cafés, gun down random swathes of people in shopping centres and fly planes into towers, regardless of what branch of the Moslem faith they are? Really? The guilt is transferred to the infidel and the murder of their brothers is okay because they will understand in paradise. Paradaize.  Say it again, internally in deep tranquillity and screaming outside,  ALL THESE RELIGIONS AND FAKE SECTS/CULTS ARE HOLDING US BACK.

 Evolution will roll on to an infinite event horizon (or something, arf) but for those of us here with a finite lifespan, it is really REALLY hard not to lose patience with all these soul raping morons. Some of the killers are brainwashed/heart erased fools, some of them just LIKE it. ALL of the ones in charge of the flocks/herds have daily orgasms on the dark sides at the glorious powers of their control. There, is the Evil.

 Limitless energy.... to be used this way... or or that. IT is neutral. But Evolution IS the purpose, reason, meaning and direction. Trust the exhausted visionary. ARF.

 Feel like dancing...slow motion ballet by candlelight at 4.30am, quiet.....I miss 'illegal' drugs but not sure they are needed any more. Know what I ketamine?

 'My perception of beauty is everywhere. SHE. IS. Everything I think, is wrong, everything I feel, is Song. I fell in love with a dream. Until I awoke and the dream had forgotten me. Resolved to daydream more...It takes everything I have to trust anyone at all. And even then....even Now. Still blocked, still frozen, still on fire.'

 You have to be 100percent behind someone to stab them in the back.

 If you are trying to communicate... try and keep it Universal in the personal. Don't listen to this music, do something else, divert the thoughts and allow it enter, accept the sweet invasion connecting with the centre, arrows fired/fishing lines cast with barbed hooks...sense the light changing through your skin...Synaptic gateways to reactivate sleeping DNA, portals opened between the worlds...imagination steps through and then pulls the astral body with it. Take it for a SPIN. Trust it.

 'I've changed my mind, it's what it's there for'. Jonhn Balance.

 We are walking round like caricatures of ourselves

First one to leave the party before the clock strikes twelve

Parodies of humanity.

                      'An old trick well done is far better than a new trick with no effect'.

Harry Houdini...before he drowned in a straitjacket. An old trick done badly.

 Meanwhile...A shame we seem to have misinterpreted each other, more than just a language barrier or an age gap thing. A non event horizon....I'd like to think (but prefer to feel) that the deepest instinct was truly real...fell and haven't quite stopped yet, but it feels like flying. Felt the link, the communication and the exchange.   Wrong. Chemicals ignited, let's not get too quantum metaphysical eh? But. Sigh....

 'What's a circle in three dimensions? A spherical hole.' Now imagine what.....(fill in more blanks with binary thought...transmitting on all frequencies with the full force of your imagination. And seek thee Robert Anton Wilson and Nassim Haramein.

 Start thinking as a species. Yesterday. Yes, we are all indivi duals. Marry the hemispheres, yin yang, do your thang...'Please understand I never had a secret chart to get me to the heart of this or any other matter'.(L.C, The Master Song)

 Random requests for advice yielded the following instant answers:

Breathe in.

Be honest.

Live without fears.

Be kind and honest to all who dwell on Earth (including yourself)

and satisfy your sex drive.

 Free studio time on a Sunday... 7 songs recorded in five hours, (Tell Somebody Else, You were Warned, Hermaphrodite, Home, First Spark of Fascination, Kings they are Naked and 13.) voices, guitars, keyboards and percussion...time for a 9th book and another double cd and concerts at last...but NO idea if I can stay in this country now. Against every part of my nature, I went on the grid, even though trying to do the right thing has never, ever worked for me. Plans are thwarted, being open to chance, works.  So, play and WORK.

 Can I go to sleep yet?

Am I actually awake?

 Not really.

You?

 See you in the summer, perhaps...or astral in ancient Sumeria....

Love is. Was. Will always Be.

[muzaffar1969]

http://ift.tt/2nvxXZG

We’re all chasing one thing boys and girls: love. Many of us haven’t found it, and some of us have. For those that haven’t there’s a reason.

This message today is brought to you by “Bro’s Anonymous Incorporated” (The company I’m going to start, to teach all you guys how to be a man so you can get what you’re looking for). Women will also find this guide very insightful when it comes to the male species.

There’s probably one clear reason us single guys are still yet to find an amazing, successful woman. Here it is:

You haven’t given enough of yourself, and you’re still in love with you.

No woman gives a rats a$$ about how in love you are with yourself. The more you love how good you think you are, the less chance you have of being in a position to give something beyond your own selfish needs.

Attracting a woman is about taking the focus off your needs, and putting the focus onto someone else. You’re never going to attract a beautiful woman unless you learn to treat one like royalty and give everything you have.

Giving the metaphorical five bucks change you have in your back pocket from last nights piss up with the boys down at the local pub is not going to cut the mustard young Skywalker. Become metaphorically naked, and be vulnerable.

Drop all your thoughts about what you have to try and be to attract a woman. If I was to sum up this advice it would be, “BECOME OPEN MINDED!!!”

So let’s define the ultimate guide you are going to need to attract a woman:

  A) Share your brains not your assets

Assets such as houses, cars, shares, cash in the bank, etc are like trophies. They’re exciting for about two weeks, and then they become boring and seemingly unimportant. Don’t lead a conversation with a woman around these objects.

Let me give you an example. It’s like asking who won the 1965 200-metre high jump. 0.01% of people can remember, and most of us will just Google it because we can’t be stuffed caring.

The achievement and gold medal was significant in 1965, but decades on, it’s about the person that athlete has become in their life, not the medal. It’s about how much that athlete gives back and uses his or her triumphs to inspire others. Now that’s memorable.

Back to the guide for a minute. Your brain is your real asset, and that is what the long-term value proposition is for a woman. There are lots of ways to show a woman your brains and here are a few:

–   Have an intelligent conversation with her

–   Show your emotional intelligence by analysing a romantic situation of someone you know

–   Ask her intelligent questions about her life

–   Share your greatest fears and how you overcame them

–   Tell a great story that has a happy ending

–   Tell a tragic story and what you learned

Bottom line, talk about things with her and bring her into your world. Steer away from assets and towards engaging, addictive, inspiring conversation.

  B) Practice honesty not bullsh”t

Don’t over exaggerate! Women are very smart creatures, and they know if you lie or bend the truth. Tell it how it is; it’s much sexier that way. I’ve seen women literally throw themselves at men who can be insanely honest.

Honesty would have to almost be at the top of a woman’s list of things she’s looking for in a man. If you’re not honest by nature, then it’s time to practice.

Have an accountability partner to keep you honest if that’s what it takes. Lying is like throwing mud at a woman’s face and then asking “What’s wrong baby why don’t you like me?” Come on guys this stuff is not rocket science and I’m no Einstein.

  C) Try harder

I see so many guys put a half-baked effort into the pursuit of a successful and attractive woman. Remember this quest for a woman is one of the only things you were put on this planet to do. It’s bloody important so give it the attention it needs.

Put some effort in, and you’ll get to see what it’s like to be indestructible with a strong woman by your side. Now I know us guys need things spelled out for us sometimes so let me do that for you right now! This is what I mean by trying harder:

–   Plan the date in advance

–   Learn her friend’s names (and her name if you’ve forgotten that)

–   Open the god damn door of the car, hotel, house, club (insert door name here)

–   Tell her how she looks. If she looks stunning then tell her so

–   Show her you care by sending good morning and good night messages

–   Come over to her when she’s in a crowd of people and give her your undivided attention

–   Look her in the eyes when you talk to her

–   Tell her what you’re thinking and feeling

–   Spoil her with fantastic food

–   Surprise her with flowers when you take her out

–   Hold her hand. Hug her. Kiss her (you get the message?)

Now the list above may sound obvious but common sense when it comes to attracting a woman seems not so common. Let me put all of this in simple terms again: instead of treating her like your doormat, treat her like the dream Ferrari that you want to own (or maybe you have one already and are richer than me).

  D) Have some guts

Okay, this point is brutal. Text messaging is not going to cut it forever. It opens the door about 5cm to a women’s heart, and then you have to grow some balls and make a move. Hiding behind the screen of your phone is about as attractive as the freshly laid pooh from a horse’s anus.

Before I go on, I need to spell out something to do with text messages. Learn to spell and use grammar. If you type in English that is full of abbreviations, acronyms, and spelling errors, women will think you are totally dumb. Dumb is not going to work (see point A).

Now that’s off my hairy chest let’s move on. Women are looking for their version of a superhero. Let’s think about Batman for a second. Does Batman sit on his ass, eat potato chips, drink beer, and never leave the house.

No! The guy is out there saving lives, saying impressive sh*t, picking up smoking hot women, and most of all, having the guts to take action. This is what women secretly all want. They’re looking for their superhero who can swoop in and lift them off their feet.

They want their version of Batman who has the balls and the guts to do one of the following:

–   Talk to them

–   Ask them on a date

–   Formalise a few successful dates into a relationship

–   Ask them one day to marry them

If the best you can do is stand on the other side of the room with “The Boys” and not even have the guts to come over and talk, you’re never going to attract a woman. You may attract an unhealthy dose of sitting at home watching porn and masturbating though!

  E) Make a move

Think about business for a second. A large part of entrepreneurship is selling. If we break down selling it comes down to this beautiful, mysterious concept called a sales funnel. Basically, you take someone from a lead, to an opportunity, to a raving fan (customer).

Attracting a woman is the same concept. To be successful, you have to constantly be taking the next step and driving the action. There’s nothing sexier to a woman than a man who’s in charge. So to break it down even further, you will not win the attraction game unless you keep “MAKING A MOVE!”

Don’t wait for time and space to align. Tell her you like her. Ask her on a date. Make a move son and quit avoiding the truth.

  F) Don’t be a dick

It’s a shame I have to mention this one, but in a world full of madness it applies more than ever. Don’t be a dick. Here’s what that looks like translated: “Be the best version of yourself and remember that it’s not all about you.”

Secondly, quit the games. I see my male friends all the time playing games.

“Maybe I’ll call her. Maybe I won’t and keep her hanging.”

“What will she think if I do that? Maybe I look too desperate.”

Bottom-line is forget about how you might look and act with intention. Playing games will get you nowhere fast. There’s loads of competition trying to find an amazing woman so act swiftly and cut to the chase. The more games you play, the further you will get from your goal.

Games are for amateurs with no balls.

  G) Leave your ego in the closet

That big ugly thing you bring out of the closet to the club on a Saturday night is scaring all the girls away. This illusive thing is called your ego.

“Divorce your ego and marry the truth”

Egos are a sign of ugliness. When you bring out all the stories of how awesome everything is about yourself, no woman believes it. On the other hand, your vulnerable self that has failed, broken girls hearts, shattered dreams, and suffers from fear like the rest of us, is much more real.

Providing you are not some muppet with zero confidence that stays at home in the dark, too afraid to fart in case the sound bursts your precious little ear drums, I think being the real you will be fine. What do you reckon? Are you with me?

  H) Get out there and get amongst it

***Insert dating app name here**** will be unlikely to help you attract a woman. Women are living creatures that breathe and roam the planet like us males. I know it’s utterly shocking when you think about this little-known fact.

The best way to attract them is to create serendipitous, spontaneous moments and get out there and find one for yourself. How do you do that?

Go to stuff. Festivals, bars, meetups, balls, charity events, freaking bake off’s if that’s your thing. The key message is start doing and get off your lazy butt. Things will move much faster than any dating app where you are texting for twelve months wondering what each other really look like.

Real attraction begins with human connection, and it’s impossible to get that from an app. There’s nothing better than seeing each other in the flesh and looking into each other’s eyes over a genuine conversation. That’s where the attraction happens gentlemen.

By the way, I sometimes think I sound like a muppet myself with some of this advice, but I’m all for spelling it out.

  I) Iron your shirt (trust me on this)

Geez I can’t believe I included this one. Don’t roll up with your shirt all creased, bad breath, and a sign on your head that says “I am too lazy to iron my shirt because I don’t care about you that much.” Part of attraction comes down to looks, so make an effort to dress well.

How would you feel if she rolled up in pumpkin costume with a bag over her head? Probably not too good, although there may be some weirdo’s reading this who get turned on by this and have some crazy fetish. I’ll assume that’s not you for the sake of this guide.

  ***Final thought***

Let me finish by saying that chivalry is not dead; there is just a major shortage of it. Guys, if we don’t follow this ultimate guide, we could become extinct. Let me remind you that masturbation cannot allow you to reproduce and without reproduction, none of us exist.

Again, obvious but worth stating at this late stage in the game. Best of luck with your newfound wisdom. Now go use this guide!

April 02, 2017 at 09:05AM http://ift.tt/2nK5ErI from Tim Denning http://ift.tt/2nK5ErI