#surely we can come up with a funner name

[flamebearrel]

"My lover man" by bruce springsteen is soooo sean and rudolph from hip hop cherry pop I think.... and uh I'm not just saying that because it uses the g-slur in the second verse... yeah that's unfortunate -_- but ANYWAY if those guys started going out do you think trevor (their other friend) would be cool about it or would he give them a hard time? Discuss

WAIT WHAT you're so right... give me a second that song was way more soulful than whatever I expected it to be

First of all it would probably take Trevor a while to warm up to Rudolph again; he'd definitely be on Sean's back about him. Once things cool down a bit more I can see him offering them """relationship advice""" of various levels of helpfulness (Sometimes he pockets more of Rudolph's money mid-advising. Sean pockets it back)

[thevoidstaredback]

So, I told you guys about the Minecraft server that's been having problems lately, right? The one that I'm salty about for several reasons, one of which being that I'm not able to do what I was told I would be doing.

Anyway, our admin (a long time friend of mine) announced this past Saturday that he would be ending the project. The main reason being that the people holding big roles (I would totally [user]name drop them, but I'm not gonna be that petty yet) have been bailing out literal hours before recording happens. Two of them have even been ghosting us all!

The problem is that I don't want to give this up. This project is something Admin has been dreaming about since we were in middle school. I've been helping him with this since I was in middle school (he in high school)(he's a year older than me). I want this to be a thing that happens because, and this is a little selfish, it's something I've been wanting to do, too.

Now, I've got two options. I can continue with this on my own, get everything set up before even approaching anyone about retrying; or I can talk to the others (Admin R, admin I, admin S, admin B, and myself (admin L)) and we can work together on retrying it. Either way, we have to be more cohesive.

This is where y'all come in. I need advice. Under the cut is a message I have drafted to send to the others, or at least Admin R. Will y'all let me know what you think about it? Anything I need to add or clarify?

Any advice is welcome because I don't normally have conversations like this, but I have before.

I'm also very stubborn about this. I will be doing this project with or without the others. It'll just be faster and funner with them.

If y'all don't really care, that's fine. Most, if not all, of you followed me for my writing, and I promise stuff is coming soon. But I can't go to my other socials with this because they follow my other socials and I don't want them knowing about this until I've got what I need/want to say sorted out. Regardless, a version of this message, if not this exact thing, is being sent out by noon tomorrow.

Y'know, I was thinking about the announcement from Sat. If we want to try and pick this up again in the future, doing an actual casting call would probably be our best bet. With a hard set schedule, the world built before even looking for voices, and a storyline to follow (if we don't wanna improv our way through)

It wouldn't even have to be paid roles! A casting call between friends to see who would be best where would be fine as long as we have a set schedule that eveeyone knows to follow. Like when putting on shows for school, except the rehearsals would be recording episodes. (Same with crew calls, because having a set crew and a set cast is always good)

If we do end up going with the paid route, we'd have to establish ourselves and a channel first so we can actually pay people.

This is, of course, in the scenario that we actually wanna do something like this again. If we do, we have to delegate and communicate between ourselves, and whoever joins us, better. A lot better

I think our problem was that we held too high expectations for this project. Expectations aren't bad, they're great, even! But there's a bar that we set that we couldn't reach for several reasons.

I get it, life happens, stuff gets in the way. That's where we fell apart, I think. No one was communicating with anyone, and when people did talk, it was sporadic with hours to days between messages. Last minute schedule changes across the board that wouldn't have been last minute if we'd all communicated better.

I have the most time out of all of us, I'm pretty sure, as well as several large followings in different places. I can take on a lot more than the others because of that free time and ability to reach as long as you let me. If we want to retry this, it'll take a while to set up, but I believe we could.

[arialityy]

Honkai pt.2 first impressions (as of completing pt.2 ch.1 phase 1) (don't come at me)

I'm gonna be focusing mostly on the characters in this post, but I'll briefly go over the ui and open world

So... I really miss the old ui already lmao. Even if it did look old and outdated, I think it was pretty unique for a sci-fi game and personally easier on my eyes (I think I just need to get used to it, but everything looks to similar in the new ui and I can't focus as easily on it 😭 That's probably just me though) I also think it looks kind of out of place if you go back to play older chapters, but it's not horrible. Personally, I feel like I'll always prefer the old ui. However, it looks great in the new open world chapter! Usually, I don't really like the ow chapters, but this one actually runs well, and I've been enjoying it quite a lot, even the side missions. (Also, it's just really nice to look at) It definitely reminds me of hsr and apho, which isn't necessarily a bad thing.

As for the new gameplay, it's... ok. The new battlesuits don't feel much funner or nicer than the old battlesuits. If anything, I like them less. With Helia and Coralie, the effects are fine since they're A-ranks, and the gameplay is also nice for an A-rank. Senadina's actual gameplay is fine. But her animations are so boring 😭 I like that it lights up the area around her but that's about it. I get that sometimes the animations could get too flashy, but Senadina's are just boring for what's presumably meant to be the fancy new S-rank. I'll cut her some slack, though, since it's still the beginning of pt.2.

Finally, I'll be talking about the characters themselves! Remember, these opinions are very subject to change, as it's only the beginning of pt.2's story. (I'll ommit my opinions on the designs for today)

Starting with the Dreamseeker!

I really appreciate how they didn't make them just another self insert who barely talks. Though I don't see why they didn't fully commit and give them a name. They could even keep the genderswapping thing by giving them an androgynous name. (Speaking of that, I didn't think I'd like that, but y'know what, it's cool that it's actual genderfluid rep!) However, the DS's personality so far has been kind of boring in my opinion. I think they're a very intriguing character. I mean, they were born out of the Sea of Quanta and hilariously chill over dreaming about dancing with a goddess who tells them they're gonna save the world, waking up in the SoQ with an amnesiac version of that goddess, and being thrust into a whole new bubble universe. I know they want to get home, but damn, I feel like I would freak out more. I really hope we get to learn more about them, and their personality shines through more!

Senadina- Ok. I'm pretty sure this is a controversial opinion already, but I don't really like Senadina. I want to because her selective memories and connection to a goddess are interesting, and she has cute moments, but she kind of just... annoys me. I mean, we've seen this kind of amnesiac but bubbly character before (*cough cough* March 7th *cough cough*), and something about her personality just annoys me. I can't pinpoint what it is about her, but like... I just don't really like her. She starts growing on me, and then she'll say something that annoys me. Right now, she feels like a character just designed to sell toys to me. I'm sure that will change, as she's one of the main main characters, but right now, she just isn't it for me. I hope she gets more interesting, and I grow to like her more.

Coralie- She's very much the Bronya of the group, but she's not just a Bronya clone, and I can appreciate her for that. I don't think I like her as much as I liked Bronya right off the bat, but of the main four, she has the most personality to me so far. She's also just kind of weird, which I like lmao. I have less to say about her and Helia, so just know that while I do like her, she's far from being an instant favorite.

Helia- She exists. That's almost all I have to say. Her bridge voicelines did make me like her a bit more, though. I think she's kind of cute, but nothing about her interests me. I also don't really like that she's yet another Durandal fan. I get that we only have like - 2 Dudu fans other than her, but it's not really an original character trait. Why couldn't she have been a Kiana fan or something? Even a Theresa fan would be cool. Teri needs more fans. I think she's fine, but boring.

Songque- She's definitely my favorite so far! There's definitely enough intrigue surrounding her for me to want to know more about her. What was that "dream" sequence with the DS before they actually met about? She's a shu, but what does she really know? I also like her personality. It's not like my favorite personality or anything, but she definitely has one, and it adds to the intrigue surrounding her. I hope she doesn't just go away after this story arc is finished.

So, that's most of my opinions about pt.2 so far! I left out some stuff, but this is really all you need to know about how I feel about the characters, gameplay, and ui so far.

[the-enigmatic-universe-theory]

Chapter 3

Lorelai

I look around, following the sound of baby voices. Me and the kids decided to play hide and seek for the last hour of daycare, but I don't know if it'll last that long. The kids are quickly getting bored. They complain that I find them too easily, and it's true since they can only hide in certain spots. I have to know where they are at all times, so this is the only way we can play. I try to act like I can't find them most of the time, to make it last longer, still, the kids all agree that playtime was much funner without the restrictions. There's nothing we can do about it though, with the kidnappings happening more frequently we have to take every precaution to keep the kids safe. The thought of one of these beautiful little toddlers being taken sends knots into my stomach. The 10-minute bell goes off, telling me play times are up. 

“Alright Littles, it's time to come out now. Pickup is about to begin.” The children clamber out of their hiding places, yelling and shouting, excited to go home. 1 or two of the children boo, wanting to stay here. We go through this most days, and though it warms my heart the love being here with me, they still have to go home to their parents. “Let's grab our things from the cubbies and pack up!” They all crowd around the small cubby area and I have to remind them to take turns. Most of the kids in my care are 4-5 years old, just shy of starting kindergarten, and can do a lot on their own. 

Once pack up is complete they all return to their cushion seats, waiting for their parents to come pick them up. Even before the kidnappings, we've always had the adults come in to sign out their kids. It's a security precaution, and this way we can keep records of who takes the kids, in case of an emergency. 

Soon the parents start trickling in and getting their kids. As usual, one little boy is still sitting on his cushion when all the others have left. His mother is almost always running behind. I don't mind staying with but I can tell he doesn't like always being the last one to be picked up. 

After the first 10 minutes with his mom still being a no-show, I bring out the building cubes and let him play with those.

I sit at my makeshift desk and finish up some of my schoolwork for the day. Since I have to work a job most weekdays to support myself I take my classes online. I prefer it this way, fewer distractions, and I can watch movies while doing my work. 

After 30 minutes, and still no mom, I get up from my desk and go kneel beside the little boy. 

“Daniel, do you have any idea why your mom is so late?” I ask him gently. I know this must be uncomfortable for him, waiting for a mom that refuses to show. He shakes his head, and I can see tears in his big brown eyes. 

I pull him into a hug, telling him it's okay, trying to comfort this precious boy. “It's Okay, I'm sure she'll be here soon.” 20 minutes later, and his mom is nowhere to be seen. 

I gently let go of him, walking over to my desk. I pick up the desk phone and dial my boss's number. It rings a few times. “Hello?” comes a woman's voice from the other side of the phone. 

“Hi, this is Lorelei.” I answer. 

“Lorelei, how can I help you?”

‘Well, I’m still at the daycare, and I-”

“Why are you still at the daycare, it is well past your hours?” 

“Yes ma’am, I know,” I say respectfully, even though I hate to be interrupted. “It's just that I have a little boy here, still waiting for his mom to pick him up. It's not exactly uncommon for her to be late, but it's usually only 10-15 minutes or so. I'm unsure what to do.”

I hear some shuffling on the other end. “Do you have her name?”

“Yes, it should be in the previous sign-in sheets. Give me a second.” I set the phone down on the desk and picked up the sign-up sheets. I have to flip a page or two back and search for his name. I pick the phone back up. “Her name is Danielle Roberts.” 

“Ok,” clacking, like someone typing on a really thick keyboard, “We have all parent numbers on file in case of emergency. I’m going to pull hers up and you can give her a call.” More typing. 

“Ok, that should work.” I say. The doorbell rings, startling me for a second. I hear a surprised shout and turn in time to see the little boy jumping into his mom's arms. She looks frazzled. Her dirty blonde hair is falling out of her bun, her makeup is smudged and there's a mysterious stain on the front of her shirt. And I thought I was having a rough day. 

“Hello Lorelei, I’m so sorry I’m late. My boss needed me to finish up some paperwork before I left, and then I had car troubles. It's been a tough evening.” I can tell, she does look like she’s been through hell and back.

“It’s no problem. “ I say even though it kind of was. I was always a people pleaser. “Can you sign him out please?” 

“Yes, yes, I’ll do that now.” She comes closer to get the chart and sign him out, giving me a good whiff of her. Tuna, the mysterious stain on her shirt is unmistakingly tuna. I wrinkle my nose but don’t say anything. There’s no point in pointing it out. 

I pick up the phone, suddenly remembering my boss is still on the line. 

“Lorelei, are you there?’ she says.

“Yes, sorry. I don’t need the number, she just showed up.” I respond.

“OK, good. Be careful getting home then.” There’s a little shuffling on her end.

“I will, goodnight.” 

“Goodnight Lorelei.” she says, then hangs up.

I turn around and face Danielle and her son. “Are we all good here, have everything you need?”

“Yes. Thank you again. Come on Daniel, it’s time to go home. Tell Ms. Lorelei goodbye.” She takes his hand and leads him to the door.

He waves, “Goodbye Ms. Lorelei.” The door rings shut, and I take a deep breath. I love working with kids, it might even be what I want to do when I graduate, but it can be tiring from time to time. 

I push my hair out of my face and begin collecting my things. I’m putting the last item into my bag when the door rings again. It’s probably the Roberts, Daniel must have left something. “Hello-” I stop short when I see the person standing in the doorway. He’s tall, around six foot, and dressed in all black. A hood covers most of his face, and gloves cover his hands. “Excuse me, can I help you.” I ask, my voice calm, even though he is, by all means, the scariest person I have ever seen. 

“You’re coming with me.” His voice is a low rumble, quiet. Not a question, a demand. I look around for something I could use to get away. But everything’s been neatly put up and baby-proofed. I can only talk my way out of this.

“Why would I do that?” My fingers are starting to slightly shake, and I hope he can’t see how scared I am. 

“If you’re refusing,” a pause, “I’ll force you.” I let the threat sink in. There was a slight lift at the end of his words like he might have been smiling. He is trying to take me. 

   “Why do you want me?” I ask, stalling for time. I need a plan.

“I don’t want you, they do.” They, as in, multiple. I take a step back. He takes a step forward; his boot hits the table. He didn’t fall, or tip, it was only a small tap. 

“Why?” I ask again. 

“You’re asking too many questions. Come with me.” He takes another step forward, this time having to step over a table, which isn’t too easy. I have my plan. 

I take a step back, goading him closer. My room in the daycare isn’t small, not really, but it sure would feel that way to a 6-foot man with a big build, especially with so many tables and chairs scattered around. My only hope is to get him to trip, or get him into a position where I can run and he wouldn’t have an easy time catching me. 

“I don’t want to.” 

“You’re stalling,” he growls. He takes another step forward. “Come with me, or I force you.” Another step. Just one more, he needs to take one more. 

I shuffle backward until my back is up against the wall. Come on, come on, come on. “Please.” My voice is shaky, and none of it is fake. I flatten myself as hard as I can against the wall, getting ready to spring forward. Finally, he takes the last step. I bolt.

He’s lunging after me, but I was right. I can hear the bangs as he trips over chairs and tables trying to get to me. I swiftly move through the room. It’s almost completely dark, but I know my way home. This could work for me. Once into the open air, I’ll have to run as fast as possible, hopefully, this would have slowed him down enough for me to slip into the cover of the darkness, past the street lights. 

I step past the final table, and the bookshelves, putting my hands on the door and pushing. It opens and I break into a run, I still hear him. A sharp pain shoots into my leg, and I think I must've twisted my ankle, but I look down and instead see a dart sticking out of my leg. My vision goes blurry, and my breath is ragged and uneven. I stop running, I can barely hold myself up straight. I’m not. I’m swaying, bracing myself for the impact that's sure to come when I can no longer support myself. And then I drop, blacking out on my fall down.

[shadowlessdeath]

Bloodlines, Training And Veins

Outfit

Warning: there is mention of rape

~~~~~~~

Bucky's POV

As I'm walking down the hallway, I hear a voice coming from....my room? I notice the door was open, so I took my knife out from my boot. I quietly walk in to see Katerina watching something. "aceasta este fiica mea Katerina Roseblade. dacă mi se întâmplă ceva, du-o la Nick Fury" ("this is my daughter Katerina Roseblade. If anything happens to me, take her to Nick Fury") I sit on the bed next to her. I look at her carefully. Tears stream down her face, eyes bloodshot, hair stained with blood and dirt, nails painted with dirt, clothes looking like they haven't been washed in a long time. "Who's that?" I ask. "He's my father, Vlad Țepeș. You might know him as Vlad the impaler" she says, sadness in her voice. "What happened to him?" "He died. I don't know from what, nobody told me anything about it. Hydra took me when I was nine years old and kept me until I was 19. For ten years they tortured me, beat me, starved me and humiliated me. I read your file and what they did to you was nothing compared to what they did to me" she gets up from the bed and lifts up her shirt to reveal a scar across her stomach, "this is what one of guards did to me to shut me up after he raped me" she says, putting her shirt back down. "Can I just ask you something?" I ask, standing up. She nods her head, "what triggered you back there?" "There was a spark and all I could see was being strapped down in that chair, having my brain be electrocuted so many times that I couldn't remember my own name. All I felt was rage" she says, walking out of the room.

What was the spark?

~Time skip to a month later~

Buckys POV

Turns out the spark was a wire that somehow landed in some water.

Katerina's POV

It's been about a month that I've been here and everything is going good....we'll mostly everything. Peter, Tony and Bruce avoid me at all costs. Natasha and Wanda don't talk to me. Clint and Thor give me weird looks whenever I'm near or see them. Steve and Bucky are really the ones who acknowledge my existence.

I'm currently decorating my room, which is next to Buckys and across from Steve's. "Which one do you like better?" Steve asks, holding up samples of wallpaper. "I really like the skulls" I say, hoping from my bed onto Buckys back, wrapping my legs and arms around his neck and waist. Bucky and I have been getting really close with each other. They both laugh at my craziness. "What are you doing Kat?" Bucky asks, using the nickname he calls me. "My bed got boring, so I thought you'd be funner" I say, earning a chuckle from him. "Funner isn't a word" Bucky says. "It's my word, so suck it" I say, earning a laugh from him. "Okay, so we have everything set except for your floor" Steve says, putting down the samples. "I actually know what I want for my floor. There's this skull carpet and it's so cute" I say, climbing on top of Buckys shoulders and standing. "What are you talking about?" Steve asks, clearly confused. I jump off of Bucky doing a back flip and landing on my feet. "Here I'll show you" I say, going to my computer and pulling up the picture of it.

Rug

"See" I say, turning to them. "Oh okay. I thought you literally meant real skulls" Steve says, causing me to laugh. "Wanna go train while we take care of everything in here?" Bucky asks, knowing I love having the training room to myself. "Yeah sure, but you have to do the thing" I say, grabbing my phone and walking out of my room. "Of course, it's our thing" he says, following me into the hallway. I start running to the room, "Hey! That's cheating!" He says behind me. He catches up to me and grabs me by the waist, making me smile and disappear into smoke reappearing behind him. I tap him on the shoulder, "I win" I say when he turns around. "The rules are whoever gets inside the room wins. We're still in the hallway" he says, smirking. "Okay" I say, smirking as well. I pull him down so his lips are inches from mine, while turning us around so that my back is facing the doors to the training room. I move my head to the left and kiss his cheek, "I win now" I say, opening the door and stepping into the room. "That's not fair!" He says, smiling. "I never said it was fair" I say, smirking. I hook my phone up to the speakers and go in the middle of the room. He sits on the bench and watches me. This is what we do every time I'm in here.

"Press play and put the volume all the way up" I say to him. He does as I tell him to do. The beginning of Blood by In This Moment comes on and I smile. I run towards the sparring mat, do a round off, back hand spring, layout and land on the mat. Bucky comes onto the mat and watches me for a bit. Blood, blood, blood, pump mud through my veins. Shut your dirty, dirty mouth, I'm not that insane. He throws a punch at my face, but I easily catch his hand and twist it, making him go down to his knees. He gets back up and stands in the middle of the mat. I walk over to him and trace his body with my left hand, walking around him slowly. Blood, blood, blood, pump mud through my veins. I'm a dirty, dirty girl, I want it filthy. I reach the front of him again but this time I don't walk around him. I turn around so my back was facing him, and slowly slide down against his legs. I heard a groan come from him when my ass went over his dick, I smirk. I sweep his legs out from under him, causing him to fall on his back. I get on top of him and put the knife to his throat. "I win" I say, kissing his cheek. I get off of him and offer my hand to help him up. He grabs my hand but, instead of him standing up, he pulls me back down and gets on top of me. He pins my hands above my head and traces my throat with the knife. "No, kitty Kat. I win" he says in my ear before he kisses my neck. My breath caught in my throat. He's never done that before I thought. The music stopped and someone coughed, getting both of our attention. "We need to talk" Nat says, looking at me. Bucky gets off of me and helps me up. "About what?" I say, grabbing my phone from the bench. "You're going on a mission with the team" she says, walking away. "But I'm not ready" I say as Bucky and I follow her into the kitchen, where the rest of the team is. "Actually we think you are" Tony says. "Okay. Let me clarify, I don't think I'm ready" I say, standing at the other end of the table across from him. "So you don't want to be on the team?" He asks, walking towards me. "I do, but-" "but, what?" Thor asks, getting closer to me as well. The rest of the team is standing up and moving towards me. "It's just-" "just what?" Clint asks. "Are you afraid?!" Tony asks, getting closer, in fact everyone is really close to me and is standing around me. My breathing picks up, my head feels like it's going to explode and I'm shaking. I close my eyes and scream which makes everyone get blown away from me. I open my eyes and fall to the floor. Bucky catches me before I hit the floor. "It's me Kat. It's Bucky" he says softly, looking at me. I notice black lines covering my body where my veins should be. I look at Bucky confused. "What the fuck" I say before passing out.

Face arms

[currentshift]

This is technically a repost but its been a while and I found no one last time, soooo.

Quicknotes

Don’t interact with me if you’re a minor. I’m an adult. I have zero interest in chatting up kids, especially in private. 

I’m spiritual kin. I’m only looking for other spiritual kin. I don't care what you are, if you share a source and find me tolerable, come at me, brah. Well--okay, one exception: no kin-for-funners.

This is not a fandom post. I'm trying my best not to be indexed into fandom tags.

Since this seems to matter a lot to those on the opposite end of the spectrum (and because I have zero interest making connections of any sort with people I have to walk on eggshells around): I am proship.

I'm secure enough in my personal beliefs to question and scrutinize them. While I believe I was once these blorbos in a different, past life, (alongside general feykin (the kind that will steal your name but keep a promise to the very letter to their own detriment) and therian feline,) I also acknowledge how batshit cray-cray that sounds. I have my mental gymnastics that I'll hold up to the light when the eggheads discover more concrete evidence about the nature of our universe :P

I think about those philosophical and spiritual things for fun when I get bored (which is a lot of the time).

Lastly, I am a roleplayer. It's separate from my kin stuff, duh, collaborative writing is a hobby--but I mix the two (in that I use kin mems as the basis for my portrayals), so if you see someone out there in the wild using any of these as "headcanons," that's prolly me. It's fun to play pretend as some wayward extension of yourself as if you were still them, you know?

What to Expect

If you do decide to say hi? Nothing. Don’t come at me with expectations. While I like to fancy "me" as being a mishmash blend of who I was and who I am, I still am very much who I currently am, for better or for worse.

Kindating or whatever is an automatic no. I'm an ace and a goblin anyway.

I should also make it very clear that I am bad at keeping in touch. Unless you make it a point to throw me memes or funnies or whatever every now and then until I warm up enough to feel like I can do the same without it annoying you, we probably won't be in contact for very long, if at all.

My Kinlist Obscured By / /s To Avoid Being Indexed

Although I've not obscured the tags so it's pointless. Oh well! Ma/ /jora   (as of 2023 this one may well simply be a soulbond as I first thought) The Moon incident was a display of blasphemy against the Fie/ /rce De/ /ity. His was the Moon; mine was the Sun. But, you know, bringing down the Sun would have made things a bit too quick, and that’s no fun.   I viewed the Oni as a frienemy.   The manga’s pre-story just feels right.   I had experience with the Twili at some point. They used me/my mask to curse Ikana after some treaty or arrangement fell through, lol. This led to them getting banned banished from Termina.

Maj/ /Ora? We were troublesome forest spirits, then minor Twin Deities, that went batshit bonkers when some Goddess started encroaching and inadvertently, probably, stealing our followers(, we were often bad for their health, I guess). We were forced to become "one" when we were sealed away in that Mask by the Fierce Deity who shared a similar fate. :). We're still one in this life, I'm pretty sure. This could stand as a flimsy-whimsy explanation for why I've always felt like I should've have a twin.

Xu/ /e Ya/ /ng   I had a set of blue-black glass vials that were probably not vials but that’s the only word I can think of to call them, do you think I know my glassware? They had etched-white designs near the top and were used to hold powdered herbs and poisons. Probably originated from a different country by trade. Then again, potatoes.   I discovered the Mo Xua/ /nyu of my timeline stuffed his pants to make himself look bigger in certain areas, or to make himself look like he had one, at all. I don’t know which.   The only clear memory I have of Xi/ /ao Xin/ /gchen is from our time in Y/ /i Ci/ /ty. Sunny day, the ruins of an old dock in the middle of a somewhat swampy forested area that had been a lake a long-ass time prior given the, you know, dock. He was laughing at something.

Ga/ /ster   I distinctly remember rigging the microwave, coffee maker, and so on to explode or malfunction in order to observe how Al/ /phys and Sa/ /ns reacted to that kind of thing. If the song I listened to during one of my rare post-fix hallucinations is to be believed (and I have little else to go off of, so sure, why not) then my goal near the end and prior to erasure from my timeline was to Break Everything, Universally Speaking. I can only assume I went off the rails in my old age. Which in turn makes me think the Followers may have been a mystery science cult akin to Pythagoreanism that turned Jonestown. Or perhaps maybe not so Jonestown. Who knows. Ga/ /ster 2 I made a shitty for-fun AU of which I've been fleshing out on its roleplay-oriented blog for the sole purpose of fucknasty porn and all signs point to it from mental images that bear the same impression as any other kin mems to tarot cards to external inquiries.

Sn/ /ake Fr/ /uit I was a Chocobra that attained Cookie form via transformation magic and logic dictates that if that is possible, then so was becoming a Dragon. Lon/ /gan may or may not have annihilated my village and that may or may not have been a big reason for trying to get rid of them, and that incident may or may not have sparked the wanting to become a Dragon ordeal to begin with.

What / Who I’m Looking For

Canonmates, sourcemates, whatever. Kin twins are more than cool, too! Sometimes preferable! Let’s gush over our best boys and beloatheds like the hopeless fucks we are!

The Fi/ /erce De/ /ity, just in general, especially if you’re down for online boardgames.

If you remember those vials? If you remember confiscating those vials? Hi.

If you remember a microwave just fucking exploding in your face? Hi.

Lon/ /gan - I challenge you to a duel to the death in an online boardgame or something.

MD/ /ZS and CR/ /OB kins in particular, if you're uncomfortable with certain ships (Xu/ /eXi/ /ao and whatever the shipname for Lon/ /gan and Sn/ /ake is) it's best you stay away or say as much so I don't expose you to my fluffy as fuck fanatrocities 🤷‍♀️

Methods of Contact

We are already on tumblr. Slide into my DMs. If we’re gucci I can slide you my Discord or something - is what I would say if I were ever on Discord anymore. I'm back on Discord, but I also have instagram. And Deviantart. E-mail's a classic. Or uhh... I can slide you my texting app number, I guess? I can't take or make calls though. I mean technically I can but last time I tried it wouldn't pick up my voice, and also I have sixty free minutes and have to watch advertisements to get more and I don't wanna.

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

From The Secret Portal Part One (Maddie POV)

“Come on, Maddie, you can do it!” Jazlyn cheered as George pulled ahead. “Mad-die, Mad-die!” came the cheers of indistinguishable voices chorusing behind me. “Is anyone on my side?” George asked. “We’re rooting for the underdog,” Carla teased from behind George, patting him on the shoulder. “I’m the underdog; I just learned how to play this!” “Guys, you can root for him,” I said as I pulled back ahead. “I won’t be upset.” It wasn't like I knew why they were rooting for me, anyway. “Maddie is a funner name to chant,” said Robbie. “More fun!” Noelle and Gabriel protested. The reactions behind me indicated Robbie gave a rude gesture. “Pfft, Noelle said it, too,” Gabriel mumbled. “That’s not fair.” “Sorry, Noelle.” I was pretty sure Robbie repeated the gesture to Noelle. As Princess Peach crossed the finish line, the room erupted in cheers. I turned to George beside me. “I’ve been playing this for years,” I pointed out. “No, I get it,” said George, brow furrowing. “You’re not upset, are you?” “Nah,” he said, relaxing back against the couch. He turned to me, smiling. “This just means we need more sessions so I can get better.” I wanted to jump up and down. “I would love to! Tomorrow evening.” George held out his hand to shake. “For sure.” I enthusiastically shook his hand.

Relatively new chapter from last fall I think when I realized Maddie needed a good chapter from her perspective. So I kinda strung three scenes together, including this fun closure!

Realizing Lexi doesn't say anything here though and I feel like she needs to! She's talkative and this is her sister!!

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester

Daily Sip 3/20

You can reblog this post.

You can make your own post.

You reblog someone else's snip!

Just tag it sipofsnips so everyone can find each other. ^.-

[universallychaoticpan]

Ur fic 'blood and Oil' and the one were s/o is fem fatale is frracksn AMAZING u know its VERY RARE to find a fic were y/n is a BADASS BITCH🖤 like damnnnnn give me all those brain riot plssss

Okay maybe a fic were Dazai's y/n is a badass bitch too?? Like y/n's power can rival chuuya.

Okaay thats all have a nice day❤ sending tons of loves💗💗💗

Anon, I have to tell you writing badass self inserts is such a treat for me; like for real, it's sooo much funner to write lol. (Also idk if this was intentional but brain riot seems like the best way to describe a badass y/n so I shall be using this now, ty.)

My long winded point to say I am more than delighted to write this, and I hope you enjoy. Bear with me, since this will probably blend into two parts. Thank you so much, <33

Osamu Dazai was Yokohama's nomad; he wheeled about and roamed like the breeze, leaving little behind, a paper trail of puzzle pieces in his wake. He was as loved as he was feared, and depending on who you were, he was as loyal as a knife in the hands of a deceiver.

A nomad indeed, and a dangerous one.

But where there are these legends of the midnight streets, there are the ghosts that haunt the byways, glowing embers falling from cigarettes as the smoke stained the sly curve of a lip. Like him, you were known among those who aided you. You kept your name out of mouths that could hurt you, the barrel of a smoking gun all the promise you needed.

Like dark water you ran, cold and secretive, your every word tantalizing and tempting as the apple in the garden. You were no mafia agent; not anymore at least. He was a formidable opponent; you yourself were a treacherous one. Together, however, the two of you could've forged heaven and ruled hell with smiles; the years between you setting in place every thing either of you would need to know.

He knew your subtle shows of power, the way you left your throat exposed in a challenge to the world. He knew the sure smirk that crossed your lip at the anticipation of a good fight, and the way you handled blade, beauty, and the weight of supernatural ability with ease.

He knew the way you'd grit your teeth and bit back your pain, keeping the bile of agony in and under the supple skin of your lip.

It was the face you wore now; sizing up your enemy, relaxed even in battle. Through your enemies he saw the way your body moved in perfect anticipation of every breathe. In your own way your bones rolled beneath your skin, the only evidence of your presence in a single place the splash of crimson that followed and the crash of a body as it fell to the ground. You seemed to dance with your weapon, your ability coming and going, illuminating you as you grew ever closer to the man you were after. You created destruction in the most brilliant way; Yokohama's storm tearing through their enemies, searing bone with the lightening of your fury.

And then there he was; red hair and blue eyes, watching your approach as you sent his men to death's door without so much as a glance behind you.

"If we could," you smiled, brushed a bit off dirt from your face, "let's hurry this up. Some of us do have places to be tomorrow."

"Never thought I'd see you, the agency's little lapdog, y/n. You always were above this when you were with us. Dazai too."

"Oh definitely above this," you shot back. Despite your words and the sharpness in them, you were as relaxed as ever. "All those years spent doing Mori's dirty work. Well, Nakahara, seems you got what you wanted; luxury life, and the both of us out of your way.

No one left to compete for space on Mori's lap."

Your face was hard ans unyielding; your eyes were dark and sharp, cunning sitting heavy on the crook of your brow.

The scene was yours; a god of perfect destruction;

Dazai's place of worship at your battle ground.

Slowly, you backed him against the wall behind him, your breath hot at his ear as you lifted a knife to his throat; it was cold as your gaze.

You had no love for the messenger.

"I don't miss, Nakahara. We both know that. So I'll tell you what, lapdog; I'll cut you a deal.

Option one," you began, pulling away and trailing the blade acorss your fingers, "you stay out of my way. You quit trying to find me, you stop relying my every move to Mori, and we go out separate ways. Or," you continued, tossing the knife between your hands, "you continue being a pain in my ass. You keep tailing me, sending your men after me, and I keep getting rid of them until, one way or another I work my way back to you and get rid of you myself."

"Mori doesn't give up, y/n. You know that."

His reply was swift and short, the inky dark around you hiding every word from the prying eyes of the city.

"Then I'll be another problem for him. You know my history, Chuuya; you and Dazai are the only two besides Mori who know the truth. But I left the Mafia. I left and I'm not going back.

I can't. So the choice is yours.

I don't want to have to kill you, Nakahara. Truly, all I want is to move on. But I've always done what I needed to to stay alive. So all I can do is hope you can stay away from me from now on."

Turning your back on him, you began your quiet retreat back to the quiet place you called home; you left Chuuya behind you without another word, heavy with the thought of having to kill a friend. At times, you wished you could be content with the life you had: a mafia heir, Dazai and Chuuya at your back as the three of you stepped into the power that was your birthright.

But that life was dead and gone; it had died with a death, a betrayal, and the Yokohama's storm and nomad abandoning such things. It had ended as you'd fallen in love, your fight never ending all the while. Your life was no longer one of your head held high; no longer the story of someone feared, and yet, not of someone loved either. You ruled the places, the hours, the moments that split time down the middle.

Yokohama's storm indeed.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All Nighter

Previous Parts: Extracurricular Teacher’s Pet

Warnings: noncon/rape; drinking/drunkenness; name calling;

This is a dark! fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairing: (Professor) Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Summary: Your academic worries are compounded by your personal dilemma.

Note: Yeah, yeah, yeah. I caved and we get a third part.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Halfway through the lesson, you excused yourself. As Ransom waited at the front and students scoured over an excerpt of Catcher in the Rye, he sent you another jarring message. It was time. 

You stood carefully, the skirt offering little coverage and knowing you were about to be even more exposed. You ducked down as you walked along the front row and disappeared through the door.

You went to the restroom and locked yourself in a stall. Your phone vibed again, still clutched tightly in your hand. ‘Show me.’ He demanded and even in font, the words made you shudder.

You sighed and held your phone out at an angle with one hand as you opened the camera. You directed the lense to your skirt and tugged it up until your purple panties were exposed. You shimmied as you slid them down on either side with your fingers and let them fall past the top of your stockings. You ended the recording and hit send before collecting your crumpled underwear.

You folded them and shoved them up your sleeve and locked your phone. You returned to the class, unnoticed, and sat in your seat with your head down. You bent back the cover of the book and tried to focus on the passage. You could hear Ransom as he rocked in the old office chair.

You peeked up at him as he held his phone up. His face was blank as he watched the screen. His finger tapped the phone and he nodded. He lowered his cell and his eye caught yours before you could shy away. He winked and cleared his throat.

“Alright, everyone, let’s start with a brief summary. Who wants to begin?” He stood and approached the podium again. “Go ahead.”

You blinked and realised he was pointing at you. You let out a prolonged uh and shuffled your book dumbly.

“Um, in this chapter, uh, Holden tells us about his neighbour, Jane, and um,” you squirmed a Ransom stared at you and you felt the attention of every other student in the lecture hall, “As the chapter progresses we learn that Holden has shared with her things, like Allie’s baseball glove, that he hasn’t with anyone else and in turn, eh, erm, Jane’s character disassembles and both Holden and the reader wonder after her alcoholic stepfather and even if he has… a-abused her. Holden prefers to think of her, however, as innocent, and accepts a not very convincing denial. Really, he hears what he wants to and goes on without a single--” You stopped as you began to ramble. “Yeah, that’s it.”

Ransom appeared amused and leaned on the podium. “Okay. Any other interpretations?”

He looked around and you deflated in your chair. You didn’t want to be here. You didn’t want to be talking about Jane and her vile stepfather, and you didn’t want your professor to keep looking between your legs. But just like Holden, Ransom couldn’t see anything but his own male ego. Anyone else was just a stepping stone in his grand American narrative.

🖊️

When class ended, you were as eager as any other to be gone. The two-hour block at seven in the evening was hardly anyone’s ideal, even if it was a weeknight. You slid your notebook away and the used edition of Salinger. You dropped the pens into the side pocket of your worn messenger bag and stood to watch your peers flood out of the classroom.

You wanted badly to be on your way and for an instant, you had a glimmer of hope that you might. But then you heard the deep breath and your name was called from behind you. 

“Just a minute,” he said with all pretense of deceiving any stragglers, “You seem to be missing a page from your assignment.”

You turned slowly and left your bag in the seat. You neared him and your nostrils flared as your gaze met his. It wasn’t even your paper he held. You swallowed back your reticence and pretended to look at the essay. 

“Oh, sorry.” You said as he peered over your shoulder.

“Go on,” he lowered his voice as the upper doors finally closed with a heavy clank. 

You cringed and reached up your sleeve and pulled out your panties. You let them fall onto the folder and he poked his fingers through the fabric and stretched them out. He hummed and rubbed the cotton between his fingers.

“You got anything sexier?” He snatched them up and shoved them in his pocket. “I thought you college girls were funner than that.”

You glared at him and crossed your eyes. “Right, is that everything?”

“Don’t,” he warned, “Sweetie, I don’t like that tone.” 

You huffed and rolled your eyes. He shuffled away his papers as you retreated to grab your own bag. You headed for the door as you unfolded your jacket from over your arm.

“Where are you going? I didn’t dismiss you.” He called from behind you. You turned back and stared at him.

“I have class in the morning.” You said.

“And?” He scoffed. “It’s only nine.”

You were quiet as he approached you. You wanted so badly to scream and hit him. He was a frat boy with tenure. He was as slimy and shady as every guy on campus and you had been deluded enough to think that age and title would change a spoiled brat with a silver spoon still lodged firmly in his mouth. Oh, the naive romanticism of a sophomore.

“Why are you doing this?” You asked.

He snickered and kept on as you backed away from him. He had you against the door as he slapped his hand above your shoulders and loomed over you. He leaned in as his other hand played with the bottom of your shirt.

“Because I can.” He purred, “And because I love the look in your eyes as I’m balls deep.”

“Ew,” you slapped his chest but he didn’t flinch. He merely grabbed your arm and spun you around as he pushed the door open behind you.

“Good thing you took those panties off,” he sneered, “You won’t be needing them.”

🖊️

You spent the car ride hunched against the passenger door, wishing you were anywhere else. Ransom let the radio fill the silence as he barely seemed to recall your presence. He steered with one hand, unbothered by the tension between you. As he pulled up to his house, its tall glass windows and geometric structure thrust you into a whirlwind of deja vu.

He killed the engine and rounded as you remained in your seat. You were too numb to do anything but sit there and stare at the house. You remembered patches of that night; stumbling up the walk, Ransom carrying you up stairs, his body against yours, the disorienting pain of his intrusion.

The door opened and you nearly fell out of the car. The seatbelt kept you from your descent and you unbuckled it as Ransom grabbed your arm and dragged you out into the crisp autumn evening. Your boots tapped melodically as he led you up the paved walk and you found it hard to think straight.

“Wait, wait,” you stopped as you reached the threshold, “No, Ransom, Professor… this is… wrong. You can’t--”

“For such a quiet little bitch you sure don’t shut the fuck up,” he snarled as he unlocked the door, one hand still on your arm. Your blood froze as you thought of your bag on the floor of the car, your phone buried in the side pocket. “Come on.”

“No, please,” you wriggled in his grasp, “You can’t keep doing this to me. I’ll… I’ll tell.”

“Not if I tell first,” he said coolly and bent to sling you over his shoulder. “Now let’s give you something to tell about.”

He pushed through the door and slapped your ass as he carried you inside. You kicked and writhed over his shoulder as he strode into the front room. The lights shone as they were triggered by some unseen sensor.  

He carried you to the modern sofa with its flat cushions and low back, and dropped you onto it gruffly. You bounced and bit your tongue painfully.

“Don’t make me tear those clothes off or you won’t have anything to wear in the morning,” he warned as he kicked off his leather boots and paced along the broad windows that formed the front wall of the room. He shrugged off his jacket and hung it on a rack in the corner and turned back to you. “Well…”

You bent to unzip your boots and shoved them aside. You heard a clink and looked over your shoulder. Ransom stood behind the small bar along the far wall and plunked a glass on top.

“Seem to loosen up with a few drinks in you,” he pulled out another tumblr and a bottle of dark whiskey. “This stuffs a lot better than that toilet water they serve in the club.”

You ignored him and stood to remove your jacket. You realised that there was no way out. You kept trying to convince yourself there was but that only made it worse. You hung your coat beside his as he watched you closely and gave a measured pour.

“Here,” he slid a glass across the bar. “Drink up, sweetie.”

“I’m not thirsty,” you ignored him and walked nervously back to the sofa. Was it better to have it done with?

“I don’t care what you want now get over here and drink,” he growled. “Or I’ll force it down that pretty little throat myself.”

You blanched and slowly crossed to the bar. You took the short glass and raised it, the alcohol made your nose tingle. He watched you as he drained his own tumbler. You tossed it back in three stinging gulps and coughed as you set the glass back on the bar. He chuckled and poured again, but didn’t add any to his empty glass.

“Again.” He ordered.

“Please, I can’t--” You waved your hand as you touched your raw throat. He stared at you and his jaw twitched. You pouted and lifted the glass again. You drank with tears in your eyes and gasped as you swigged it down. “There.” You choked as you planted the tumblr on the bar top. 

He reached over as if to pour some more and grinned as he hovered the bottle over your glass. He laughed and lowered it down onto its base instead. “Good girl.” He came out from behind the bar and neared you, drawing you away with him. “But you’re not naked yet.”

He thrust you ahead of him and you stumbled to the sofa. Your wits were buzzing from the whiskey and your empty stomach rolled. You hadn’t eaten since the early afternoon, right before your second lecture. You were wholly unprepared for the alcohol and the man before you.

You reached and tugged at the bottom of your turtleneck. You pulled it up and freed your head from it with a grunt. You dropped it onto the sofa and Ransom touched your shoulder where he’d bit you days before. It was still tender and made you wince. You unbuttoned your skirt and pushed the zipper down. It fell to your ankles without much effort.

Ransom’s hands went to your chest and he fondled your tits through your plain bra. He reached around you and unhooked it easily, yanking it down your arms and flinging it away. His fingers danced along your side and you hooked your thumb under the top of your stockings.

“Uh uh,” he tutted, “Keep those on.”

You retracted your hand and he gripped your shoulders. He pushed until you sat on the sofa and he backed away slightly. His tongue poked out as he took you in and he grinned. He pulled his knit sweater over his head and threw it on the floor. He made quick work of his undershirt and revealed his muscled torso. You squeezed your legs together and stared at your knees.

“We both know those college boys are nothing compared to me, sweetie,” he teased as you heard the buckle of his belt. “It’s okay, you can have a peek.”

You didn’t say anything as you listened to him strip. When he neared, you couldn’t bring yourself to look up. He grabbed your chin and forced your head up. His other hand moved below your vision as he stroked himself. 

“Get up,” he demanded and you stood with a sway. The whiskey stormed inside of you.

His hand fell to your arm and he dragged you away from the sofa. He directed you towards the tall windows and you shivered as you got closer. He stopped you before the glass and brought your hands up and planted them against the window. You felt the chill through it as he grasped your hips and drew your feet back. You stared out onto the drive, the street barely visible just beyond the curve, although you could see the lights of the neighbour’s house.

“What--”

“Shhh,” he tickled your spine and groped your ass roughly. “Stay just like that, sweetie.”

He slipped his hand down and kicked your feet apart. He felt along your folds and you shivered as his warmth contrasted against the cold seeping through the glass. Bumps rose along your skin as he poked around your entrance.

“Wet, already.” He tisked, “I thought you were a good girl.”

You shook your head and closed your eyes as he reached to your clit and rubbed it with two fingers. You gasped as he teased you and drew back to shove a finger inside you. He grabbed your shoulder as your back arched and stepped closer. He pulled his hand away and prodded you with his tip again.

“Professor…” You hissed.

His hand went to the back of your neck and he pushed your face against the glass as he slowly forced his tip inside of you. You groaned and turned so that your cheek rested against the cool window and he impaled you entirely. You slapped the glass and your fingers curled as he filled you.

“Ah,” you whined and he bucked so that your whole body quaked.

“Still so fucking tight,” he rocked against you as his thick breaths surrounded you. “You had me hard all night, sweetie. I could barely fucking stand straight.”

He tilted his hips into you as you were on tiptoes and your legs began to tremble beneath you. You clung to the glass, afraid you might collapse. He nuzzled your head and growled as sped up. You moaned without thinking as your walls clenched around him.

“That’s it,” he hummed and dropped his hand from your neck, trailing both along your chest and stomach. He hunched over you as he felt around the back of your thighs and panted into your hair. “You can play coy all you want but your cunt says it all.”

His hands stretched across your thighs and you exclaimed as he suddenly scooped you up. He bent your legs to your chest as he lifted you and your fingertips slid along the glass. He hooked his arms under your knees and opened you up as he hammered into you from below. 

He stepped closer to the window and you braced yourself against it as your reflection stared back at you. The inky dark was clouded by the glare of the light inside and revealed to you your shame. Your eyes drifted down and you saw how easily he slid in and out of you.

Your legs tensed around his arms and your breath hitched. You shut your eyes as your mouth fell open and felt your core bloom. You were close, so close, and you needed to cum. You didn’t care that it was him or that it was here; you had to.

You kept one hand on the window and snaked your other down to your cunt. You flicked circles around your clit as the sound of your flesh mingled with his. He crashed into you harder and harder and snarled into your neck.

“You fucking slut,” he rasped, “You touching yourself? Huh? You fucking like it.” He pulled your legs further apart until your hips rang with pain. “Bad girl.”

You spasmed and came with a squeak. You felt yourself dripping down his cock as the warmth leaked from you. You smacked your slick hand against the window again and bit down on your lip as he rutted into you with gristly grunts.

“Say it. You’re a bad girl.” He puffed.

“Wha--”

“Say it,” he slammed into you hard.

“I’m-- I’m a… bad… girl,” you choked out. “Oh, oh, I’m bad.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he said frantically and stilled you. He sniffed and held you on him. “Get…” His voice trailed off and he lifted you from him.

He lowered you swiftly and your legs wobbled dangerously beneath you. He grabbed the back of your neck and forced you to your knees. He brought you close as he stroked himself desperately.

“I’m gonna cum on your tits, sweetie,” he moaned, “I’m gonna--”

He grunted and strings of cum erupted from him as he angled his dick over you. His cum spurted over your chest and shoulders, even along your chin and cheek as his body shook and his fingers sank into your neck. He twitched as he slowed his hand and sighed as he let his cock bob freely before him.

“Mmm,” he let go of you and looked down at you with a smirk, “You look amazing covered in me.” 

He ran his hands over his chest and exhaled. You tried to stand and he caught your shoulder. “Crawl.” He ordered. “Get on the sofa and wait for me, sweetie.” He ran his finger through the cum along your cheek, “I won’t be long.”

🖊️

You woke in a fog. Your thighs, your hips, your cunt all ached. Your eyes fluttered open and you stared up at the pristine white ceiling. You were sprawled flat on the stiff sofa, alone. Your mouth was dry and your tongue tasted of flesh and alcohol. You groaned and sat up as your head reverberated. The sky outside was a dull grey and the clock above the door read just before seven. Fuck.

Your name floated in from the doorway at the other end of the room. You hung your head and stood. You took the throw draped over the back of the chair beside the couch and covered yourself. You neared the arch and peeked inside. Ransom poured a cup of coffee from a French press.

“You’re gonna be late if you don’t get your ass in gear,” he said smugly as he pushed the mug across the island.

You grumbled and crossed to the marble counter. You climbed up onto a tall stool and winced at the tenderness between your legs. The coffee smelled delicious as your stomach churned.

“Don’t worry, you can ride with me,” he taunted. “What time you done today?”

You frowned and took a boiling sip, barely noticing how the coffee seared your tongue. “Four… why?”

“Hmm, that’ll be a long day,” he said. “But not… too long.”

His cryptic words made you scowl and he left you without explanation. He returned with a pink box and his phone. He placed both on the counter. You watched him, confused, and he eased the lid off the box. Inside, was a silicon plug in hot pink. You shook your head.

“No.” You said firmly.

“It’s for your cunt, calm down,” he said.

“No,” you repeated and cradled your mug. “Ransom…”

“Professor. I think I prefer ‘professor’. It’s… proper.”

You snorted and rolled your eyes. He flicked his finger over his phone and it unlocked. He tapped and you leaned on your elbow. He pressed his finger against the centre of the circle that appeared and the box began to buzz as the plug vibrated. He dragged his finger around the circle and the toy intensified. You blinked.

“We’ll save that fun for class tomorrow night,” he licked his lip, “For now, you just need to… adjust.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, come on. You take me well enough.” He slithered. “Gotta have you ready… I have a break just after five. I expect you can hit pause on your studying for a visit.”

You were stunned. You set the cup down and rubbed your cheeks as you tried to process it all.

“You’re disgusting.” You sneered.

“Oh,” he closed the app and searched through his phone. He turned it to you and hit place, “So are you, sweetie.”

You squinted as you saw yourself against the glass, your tits bouncing as Ransom fucked you from behind, his own face hidden by the angle of the security camera. You swallowed and your hands went to your neck as your skin burned with humiliation.

“You…” you were speechless and tore your eyes way from his phone.

“I have a lot more than that,” he assured you as he spun the phone back to him and watched the footage with a leer, “Hurry up.” He locked the screen. “Or I’ll make sure we’re both late.”

[spicy-dunkaroo]

Stuck by Your Side (Part 1)

♫Now Playing: “Stuck by Your Side (Part 1)” by Spicy Dunkaroo…♪

❀Word Count: 2.5k

❀Rating: PG 13, 18+, Minors Do Not Interact (please)

❀Genre: Mythology AU!, Kelpie! Tamaki Amajiki, a pinch of Angst, very Fluffy, Maybe Smut (Still not sure yet)

❀Summary: Due to your job, you’re forced to visit a beautiful city in Scotland in order to get some reconnaissance on the locals. While on this trip, you grab a drink with a coworker and return home where you begin to notice strange things happen.

❀Warning(s): Cursing, Mentions of Alcohol use (Characters are aged up), and Mentions of Depression

❀Author's Note: Hello everyone!! This will be my first collaboration with the BNHarem server (Of hopefully many more). I hope that if you enjoy this story that you also go ahead and check out the other talented artists/writers that participated in this server collab here. I am beyond grateful to be working with so many amazing writers and artists that have helped me and inspired me to start writing!! I would also like to ask that if there are any warnings I might have missed, please do let me know. The last thing I want to do is have anyone read my story and get triggered because I didn’t properly put the warnings here.

Without further adieu, I hope you enjoy :)

☟❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀☟

Birds singing, leaves crunching, and the wind singing in your ears was all you could hear as the tour guide went on with their one-sided conversation of tour around Inverness, Scotland. If it weren’t for your worrisome supervisor, you’d be in the cute little cottage that you rented for the next few weeks, probably playing on your switch or watching Tigtog videos for hours on end. But noooo, they mandated that everyone had to go on this hour-long tour of the city to “get a nice perspective of the city” or whatever the hell they were rambling on about.

Each person was assigned a partner for the tours so they didn’t have to worry about anyone getting abducted or ‘lost’. Knowing better, you visibly rolled your eyes as your partner looked around like a kid in a candy store. Apparently the woman was from the marketing department as well, her name seeming to leave your memory as you squinted in her direction.

“You forgot my name again, didn’t you?”

“Pfft- no- no way!”

“Yea? Then what is it?”

“Uh, erm...It- it starts with a H, I know that!!”

“It’s Hoshi, or if you’d like to continue with formalities, Ms. Tenmei.”

Hanging your head in shame you look away. Getting lost in your thoughts once more, Hoshi taps on your shoulder.

“Hey, no worries! I’m pretty bad with names myself. How’s camera duty going?”

Saying this, the woman grabs the camera from your grasp, turning it back on to see the pictures you had taken thus far. Whistling, Hoshi looks back at you, noticing the lack of enthusiasm that was painted across your face.

“I know this tour is the last thing either of us want to do, but the quicker you get all those pictures for the portfolio, the quicker we can get out of here and grab a drink. It’ll be my treat if you can get all of them before the end of the tour.”

Nodding your head, you grab the camera back from her, beginning to focus it on a nice view of the lake from the bridge the two of you were standing on. Before you can snap the shot, the tour-guide’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts as he begins to speak about a more interesting topic.

“It’s said that this lake has a kelpie spirit living within its waters. Although, that can be said about any lake that’s big enough to swim in.”

As most tourists begin to talk amongst themselves, you grip onto the expensive camera once more, hoping to find that perfect shot you had before the man’s shrilling voice had interrupted your train of thought.

“Mommy, what’s a kelpie?”

As the little boy spoke, you took the chance to snap the shot as a bird flew on the lake's surface, leaving a black blur on the perfect shot!

‘You’ve got to be kidding me!’

The tour guide you grew to despise butted into the pair’s conversation to answer the boys question.

“That’s a good question kiddo! It’s said that the origins of the Kelpie were originally told as warnings to women and children alike to be alert at all times when not around their loved ones. Despite this, you can ask any local in the area and most could tell you their story of encountering the supposed myth. I suppose we’ll never know till we see one for ourselves. Though, if you’re unlucky enough to encounter such a myth, there’s the chance that you won’t live to tell the tale...”

The boy trembled as he gripped his mother’s dress tighter in his clutch. Your partner begins to scoot closer to you as she whispers into your ear.

“Psst! Hey, what do you think about those ‘kelpie’ hm?”

“It sounds like some sort of folk-lore they tell all the tourists here.”

“Oh c’mon now, you’re no fun! I’d like to think they might not be as brutal as this guy says.”

Scoffing, you shake your partner’s hand from your shoulder as you look into the camera’s lens once more to take another picture.

‘I’m sure it’s all bullshit. There’s no such thing as a shape-shifting kel-‘

Thinking this, you suddenly feel your body begin to fall forward as the bridge railing suddenly let out from beneath you. Before you realize it, you open your eyes to see the water's surface only a mere foot or two from your own face, the camera hanging by your neck and grazing the lake, your body beginning to be pulled back to its upright position.

Turning around to thank whoever it was that just saved you from having to pay for the company camera, you look to see nobody behind you. Nobody seemed to even be around you as you see Hoshi following behind the group of tourists, leaving you in the dust. You begin to chase after the group as you shake off the entire encounter.

Shuffling your bag off of your shoulder you threw it into the nearby chair, slumping into the couch that was adjacent to the chair. You began to hum to yourself as you felt the effects of the beer contest you had with Hoshi who you now knew was your supervisor. Thinking to yourself you remember losing that contest the two of you set up.

‘It was nice of her to pay for us and to bring me back home even though I lost. I should thank her tomorrow and try to pay her back if I can.’

Suddenly feeling the effects of the liquid courage, you stood up a bit too quickly, reaching your hand out to the couch you were just laying on. Not sure what to do, you reached for your phone to scroll through Tigtog, that was until you began to hear something strange. From what you could tell, it sounded like a voice, though you weren’t sure if it was male or female. Curiosity began to take the lead as you stood upright once more. Looking around, you began to walk around the cottage, seeing if there was anything on that could be making that noise. Eventually you found yourself outside in what looked to be the backyard of your little cottage, swaying side to side as you tried to listen for the voice once more.

“Y/N? Are- are you there?”

Under normal circumstances, after hearing an unknown males voice you’d already be locking the backdoor behind you after racing to that door. Tonight, however, was not the case as you yelled back the best you could of a response.

“yYeaa! Wwwhooo- whoo arre yOU?”

After saying this, you suddenly began to burp, probably due to the alcohol. Despite everything you had experienced thus far, for some reason your fit of burps could not be funner to you at that very moment as the voice spoke once more.

“T-That’s not important r-right now. I just wanted to make sure you made it back home safe.”

The liquid courage that coursed through your veins decided that you wanted to find out more about this stranger and began to walk into the forest. You began to sway as you attempted to find them, calling out to them in hopes of convincing them to stay and hang out.

“OoooOh c’mON now!! Don’t be liiiike that! Wh-wherrrreeee are ya? Le-le-let’s hanggg ouT for a bit! I-I *hic* think there’s cards in the liv-livingg roooom~! We- we can play a gggame of poKER and- and see what’s in the fridge. Man, now I’m hungryyy!”

Despite your lack of sobriety at the moment, you began to hear a few leaves crunch nearby. It appeared that for some reason or another, what you lacked in logic you seemed to gain in your basic senses. This theory proved true as you sniffed the air, you noticed that there was a lake nearby.

‘Since when the hell did I know what a river smelled like?’

Before you can continue on with your train of thought, the stranger responds once more. They seemed a bit panicked as you heard a twig snap, followed by more leaves crunching beneath their feet you suspected.

“D-D-Don’t come any closer! Y-You should go back h-home, you’re not t-thinking rationally.”

Not wanting to take no for an answer, you continue to walk to the source of the sound, hearing what sounded like a cascading river growing louder. Looking through the trees, you noticed a few yards away the river you had just heard. You speak up once more as you begin to walk toward the river.

“I-I don’t want to be alone r-right now… It-it’s stupid I know, I just...I’d just like to talk, just for a little bit. Would that be okay?”

Your vision began to blur as you rushed to the river's edge. It didn’t matter now if the stranger responded or not, your world began to crash down around you as you looked at the reflection on the water's edge. Sitting on your knees, small whimpers escaped your lips out as you covered your face with your hands. Despite the literal lack of sight, your emotions consumed you as it felt that everything around you was losing the light that once shone in your hopeful eyes.

At this point, you couldn’t hear any signs of life as you gripped harder at your face, only the sound of your quiet cries for help being all that echoed through that hollow forest. Assuming the worst, you began to move your hands from your face, dropping them by your side once more as you looked at your reflection once again.

“Y-You said you wanted to talk? T-That’d be fine, just- just promise you won’t cry anymore?”

There's a beat of silence, it seemed that not even the wind could speak as your body froze. Sure, you could convince yourself that you were just hearing things, that you were just acting aloof because you were feeling lonely. If you could get yourself on the couch, you could wake up and even tell yourself that the whole experience was just a really surreal dream you had. What you couldn’t convince yourself was the half naked man that appeared to be standing a few feet behind you, his voice matching his lips as you watched them move.

‘Maybe- maybe I’m just seeing things? That-that has to be right, right?! But alcohol doesn’t cause hallucinations and I’m positive that none of my drinks were spiked. So- so...Who the hell is this!?!’

“Are- are you okay Y/N?”

Your body grew stiff as you heard your name roll off of his tongue. If you weren’t getting clearheaded before, you definitely were cold sober now. Those shy indigo eyes that seemed to stare back at your own off of the river's surface as they brought you back to your senses.

‘There is a strange, half-naked man, who somehow knows you by your name, staring at you- talking to you! He doesn’t seem very intimidating, but then again he is a stranger!! In the best case scenario, he could just be a nice guy who found someone in need. Worst case, he’s a psycho that found their next victim! I can’t keep my back turned like this, I have to do something and get the hell out of this!’

Taking a shallow breath in, you swiftly turn your entire body around, facing the stranger that now made your body shiver in fear as you looked up at him. Despite the appearance of the situation, the man seemed to be intimidated by you as he looked away.

‘He doesn’t really seem like he wants to hurt me. If anything, he’s scared of me? Maybe I can intimidate him to leave me alone? Though, I don’t think I could pull it off seeing as I’m still a bit drunk…’

“Y-Y/N?”

Looking back at the man, you notice he begins to reach his hand out toward you, slowly beginning to walk toward your crouched form. Worried for the worst, you scoot away as you respond.

“H-HEY!! D-Don’t come any c-closer! If-If you don’t I-I’ll- ACK!”

Speaking this, you only now notice that there didn’t seem to be any more ground beneath you as you felt your body begin to fall into the river.

“Y/N!”

Before you can process everything that’s happening, you close your eyes in anticipation for the cold water that was bound to drown you. The stranger grabs your wrist, holding your body up above the river, your body mere inches from being submerged in the cold water. Noticing the lack of impact, you flutter your eyes open as you look back at the man before you. Shocked, the man looks down at where he grabbed your wrists. Only now do you notice a purple hue that surrounded both your arms.

“What- what is this?!”

At a loss for words, the man can only look back between your face and where he held your wrist. Confused and scared, you rip your arm from his grip as you stand yourself back up. As you stare at the man, you look around, befuddled by whatever the hell had just happened.

While a part of you would love to ask what just happened, the more logical side of you knew that none of this was worth hanging around to find out. Dusting yourself off, the man speaks up once more as he looks away in what seemed to be guilt.

“Y-Y/N, I-I’m so so-sorry!! I-I didn’t mean to t-touch you- What have I done?!”

Not wanting to wait any longer, you began to shuffle around the man, holding your hands up in surrender as you attempted to empathize with the man. Although, you weren’t sure why he was so worried since he didn’t seem to do anything besides whatever that purple glow was moments before.

“Hey, hey! We don’t have to speak about any of this. I’ll go back and after that we won’t have to ever see each other ever again, okay?”

“Y/N, i-it’s not that simpl- h-Hey, WAIT!!”

Before he had a chance to explain, you sprinted back to your cute rental cottage that you were now wishing you never left. Looking back, you notice the man just stood there as you were almost home.

Suddenly, your body stopped moving. What was even stranger, your body seemed to freeze mid-sprint. Looking around, you noticed that somehow your head was able to move but your arms were stiff as you attempted to force your body to run once more. Just as you were about to give up, your legs moved once more, wobbling as they felt gravity work once more. Not taking any chances, you began to dash once more. Not a second later, your body rolled forward from some sort of large and heavy impact. After your body finished rolling forward, you noticed that you were sitting in the backyard of the cottage, the man sitting on his head as his body laid against the door.

“W-Who or-or What are you?”

The man sighs as he flutters his eyes open, rubbing his head as he looks up at you.

“M-My name’s T-Tamaki Amajiki, and- and I’m a kelpie…”

~End of Part 1~

[sirius-archive]

Chaos Theory Ch. 17

Pairing: Cedric Diggory x Reader, Harry Potter x Reader, Draco Malfoy x Reader, George Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: ......bruh. you guys are so patient :') thank you so much for sticking with me even though its taken me AGES to update. Thank you for sending me beautiful messages and commenting and pretty much helping me through my writers block :'( I don't deserve it tbh.

Summary: Harry has just admitted his feelings for you, Snape is teaching you Legilimency, Cedric invited you to spend Easter at his place w his parents!

***

The days that follow an argument are always painfully awkward, to say the least.

You feel like you’re dancing around the mouth of a gaping chasm, watching Harry from the other side. It’s like the summer holidays all over again; the furtive glances, the awkward, mumbled excuses, the sinking feeling that you were being talked about in secret. It’s worse now, though, because you can’t backtrack. You can’t ignore Harry’s feelings and you can’t forget about what he had confessed, what he had practically screamed from the top of the Owlery.

“IM IN LOVE WITH YOU!”

How would you recover from this?

The morning before you leave for the Easter Holidays, you get yourself ready for the day and trudge down to stairs to the Gryffindor common room. Fortunately, Harry isn’t there, but Ron and Hermione are and they look up at you with sad smiles as you draw closer.

“Morning guys,” you mumble, fidgeting with the hem of your skirt.

Ron and Hermione echo you before Hermione asks how you’re feeling.

“Horrible,” you admit, dropping into the seat beside Ron, “I feel so guilty and really really stupid. It was obvious Harry liked me but I just ignored it...I ran away from it...and Harry had been through so much and I was such a horrible friend and a horrible person!“

“(Y/N)!” Ron cuts off your spiraling thoughts by patting the top of your head. You sigh, burying your face in your hands as Ron continues, “Look, you’re not a horrible person. Sure this whole thing could have been handled better but that doesn’t make you a bad person, Just conflict averse.”

“You’re not making it any better, Ron,” Hermione chides, waspishly.

“I’m not, am I?”

“Look, (Y/N)—“

But before Hermione can continue, Harry approaches and you jump up from your seat.

“Harry!” You Yelp and then swallow, calming your pacing heart, “How-um-how did you sleep?”

Harry shrugs, “Ok.”

“Good!”

Silence pulses between the four of you, no one daring to speak. The only noise comes from other Gryffindors standing in groups, scattered through the common room. You fingers dig nervously into the skin of your wrist.

“Hey guys,” Neville greets cheerily, waving happily, “Want to come down to breakfast with me?”

“Sure!” You spurt without thinking and rush to his side. Your enthusiasm makes Neville blush and stammer out a timid ‘cool’ before you lead him out toward of the common room.

You keep yourself preoccupied with Neville the whole time you and your friends make the short trip to the Great Hall. Though you don’t actually participate in the conversation, you fill it with enough ‘okay’ and ‘oh’s and ‘right’ to trick Neville into thinking you’re listening. It’s hard to keep track of the conversation when it’s entirely one sided, but you can’t help your drifting thoughts.

Was it always going to be like this between you and Harry? Had you just sacrificed your friendship with him because of your tendency to flee from your problems? Ron had called it ‘conflict aversion’ and he was right; by ignoring all the signs, you were avoiding Harry’s feelings and distancing yourself from your friends. This whole time, you thought they were the ones drifting away when really it was you.

And now, you were going to do it again.

Instead of sitting with your friends, you elected to sit with Fred, George and Lee Jordan, doing your best to distract yourself from your feelings. After breakfast, you walked to Potions with Dean and Seamus and didn’t stop when Ron tried to get your attention.

“Hey Pavarti,” you tack on a fake smile and she smiles back at you, “Can I sit with you and Lavender today?”

Pavarti pulls out the stool next to her and Lavender leans across Pavarti, arching an eyebrow curiously.

“Not sitting with Ron, Hermione or Harry?”

“The last time I sat with them I got put next to Malfoy.”

The girls cringe in unison. You hide your smirk as you take your seat, dropping your book bag beside you. Lavender has always been nosy but you’ve learned how to deal with her.

“Get your textbooks out,” Snape snaps as he storms into the dungeons, “You’ll be taking notes today.”

“Great, two hours of writing down words I don’t understand,” Pavarti grumbles. Snape narrows his eyes on her and Pavarti drops her gaze.

“Do you have a problem, Miss Patil?”

“No, Professor.”

Snape huffs and whirls around, taking his seat at his desk. His dark, beady eyes meet yours and you look away, unable to take the intensity of his steely gaze. The last time you had seen him, you had accidentally pried into a corner of his mind that he had wanted to keep hidden.

Sighing, you pull out your text book, parchment and quill and get to work. It’s not exactly riveting, but you welcome the distraction, taking detailed notes and forcing yourself to memorise the importance of different potions.

You don’t know how long you’ve been writing for before Pavarti suddenly nudges you, hissing your name.

“Here,” she says, handing you a folded piece of parchment, “From Hermione.”

Curious, you thank Pavarti and take the parchment, unfolding the small, torn piece. The scribble, however, is bigger than Hermione’s tiny writing and a little neater than Ron’s chicken scratch which means...

It’s from Harry.

We should talk.

You glance at Snape. He hasn’t noticed you yet. You glance at the note again.

We should talk.

You know he’s right...and you do want to talk. You want to apologise for the way you treated him, of course you do, but you’re not going to apologise for loving Cedric. Besides, you can’t write down everything you want say in a tiny note, especially when Snape is a few metres away.

Tearing off a tiny piece of your parchment, you hastily write your reply.

Not like this. Let’s talk at lunch.

Dragging your hand under the table, you nudge Pavarti and hand her the note. You feel her shift beside you as she dutifully delivers it to Hermione. Twisting around slightly in your seat, you watch Hermione stealthy hand the note to Harry who scrambles to unfold it. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and reads.

Not wanting to stare for too long, you turn around and face your book, pretending to read. Your peripherals pick up a familiar, blond-haired shape and you glance at Draco who is - much to your chagrin - staring at you. Again.

What is his problem?

Before you can mouth a curse word at him, Pavarti hands you Harry’s response. You tear your eyes away from Malfoy and read Harry’s note.

You’re right. Let’s talk tonight.

You bite your bottom lip. You’ve got a secret Legilimency lesson with Snape after dinner and then a Howler meeting after that. You scribble this onto the parchment, suggesting to talk at lunch instead, and send it through the human chain to Harry.

Harry’s response is quicker than you anticipated, and you find out why after you unfold his note.

Can’t. Got to meet with Bagman. What about tomorrow?

You swallow, tapping your quill against the note, sending tiny flecks of ink spraying across the parchment. Tomorrow, you leave for the Diggorys and you have a feeling that telling Harry that will make it worse. But you can’t lie to him either, what would be the point of that?

You tell him your plan for the Easter holidays, admitting to staying with the Diggorys, before handing the note to Pavarti.

“I should get paid for this,” Pavarti quips, her smile playful. You smile back apologetically.

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s fun. Funner than doing Potions work anyway.”

You wait anxiously for Harry’s reply. Was telling Harry about your trip to the Diggorys place a good idea? Would that make things more awkward? You glance over your shoulder, sneaking a peak at Harry. His face is inscrutable as he stares at your note. How did he get so good at hiding his feelings?

He was always good. You just knew him better back then.

Pavarti whispers your name and you blink, returning to yourself. She drops Harry’s response into your lap and you pick it up, carefully unfolding it. Before you can read it, though, thin fingers swoop in and collect it.

“Passing notes are we, Arden?”

Oh shit.

“Um...”

“It was me.”

Harry’s voice is loud and clear from over your shoulder and you hear the scrape of wooden legs against the concrete floor as he stands. Snape glares at him, upper lip curled into a horrible, twisted sneer.

“Of course it was you, Potter,” he spits, venomously, “It’s always you. Ten points from Gryffindor, and you’ll both get one weeks detention after the holidays.”

Detention?! For passing notes?

Malfoy and the Slytherins snicker gleefully

as Snape throws Harry’s note into the bin.

“What?!” Harry snaps, “That’s ridiculous!”

You whip around, shooting Harry a panicked look. Harry ignores you, glaring fiercely at Snape.

“Be grateful it’s not during the holidays,” Snape snarls, “And another five points from Gryffindor.”

Hermione grips Harry’s arm and ushers him back into his seat. You watch as Harry seethes, his eyes murderous, the energy surrounding him practically bursting with rage. Why is Harry so upset about getting detention? Really, it would be more of a surprise if Snape went an hour without dishing out detentions.

After class, you race to catch up to Harry, meeting him outside the dungeons.

“Sorry for getting you in trouble,” he mutters bitterly.

That’s why.

“No it’s fine Harry, seriously,” you smile, hoping that it makes Harry feel a little more better. It works. Harry’s shoulders relax and the corner of his mouth ticks a little.

“So...Um...” he scratches the back of his neck, “We do need to talk.”

“How about after my Howler meeting?” You ask hopefully.

Harry nods, “Okay. When do you finish?”

“Around ten.”

“Alright, I’ll wait in the common room for you.”

You smile again, “Sounds like a plan.”

****

“You’ve been practicing.”

You’re not sure whether Snape is impressed or if he’s making a simple statement, but it’s the longest sentence he’s said since your lesson started almost an hour ago.

And he’s right. You have been practicing on random students, dipping into their mind briefly and making sure not to dive too deep. You’re so brief that their thoughts project back as just random jumbles, nothing you can string together, but it’s enough for you to gain an understanding of Legilimency and how powerful of a tool it can be.

“Um...yes.”

Snape steps toward you, “Practicing on fellow students without their consent is against the school policy.”

You nod, “I know but I’ve been careful. I try not to stay inside their minds enough to understand their thoughts or see their memories.”

Snape cocks an eyebrow as he stares at you for a moment. It’s as though he can’t decide whether to scold you or praise you.

“I won’t punish you this time,” he finally says in his low, menacing snarl, “But if you continue to practice on students there will be consequences.”

You frown, “So how am I supposed to practice?”

“With me,” he snips, “Or with your friends. Surely you would have told them by now.”

You haven’t told Ron or Harry...but Hermione knows. You nod and mumble an okay.

“You’re dismissed,” he says, flicking his wrist toward the door.

“Yes Professor.”

“And (Y/N)?” You stop and turn to Snape who stares at you with glinting dark eyes, “Don’t let me catch you passing notes in my class again.”

You nod again, wordlessly, before making your way out of Professor Snape’s office and toward the Howler newsroom.

It’s a short trek, and you don’t pass anyone aside from Peeves, who tries to startle you by bursting out of the wall and launching a ping-pong ball at your head. You manage to dodge just in time, rolling your eyes at his antics as his cackle rings through the hallway.

“Asshole,” you mutter.

Finally, you arrive at the Newsroom and Juniper Bishop greets you with a radiant smile.

“Hey (Y/N)!” She says, cheerily, “Long time no see, right?”

She squeezes you into a bone crushing hug and you nearly get a mouthful of her raspberry-scented hair.

“Yeah actually,” you smile politely at her when she finally releases you, “Have you been well?”

Juniper winces, “Sort of…I guess you heard about me and Rachel…”

“I did,” you say, injecting as much warmth and compassion into your voice as you can, “Are you okay?”

Juniper shrugs, “It was a mutual thing, though it’s kind of awkward now.”

You’re about to comment when Harper Shacklebolt strides to the front of the room, sticks her fingers in her mouth, and issues an ear-shattering, hair-raising, demon-summoning whistle.

Your hands fly to your ears as the high-pitched screech explodes across the room, forcing everyone else to scamper to their seats.

You find a spot beside Troy, who gives you a sunshine-warm smile and pats your back.

“Alright, shut up,” she shouts, and the last whispers of gossip stop abruptly, “We are now two months away from the third and final task. I want the Howler to reflect the anticipation that everyone will most likely be feeling as we draw closer and closer to June 24th. Which is why I want an exclusive interview with our four Triwizard champions! Start drafting and planning because our first issue will be released next Thursday.”

With a flick of her wand, a large curtain falls away from the chalkboard, revealing four photos of the champions.

Padma giggles and points at Cedric, “Did Harper find that photo in your diary, (Y/N)?”

Harper folds her arms across her chest and pierces Padma with a glare that could wither roses.

“Padma, If you spent half as much time actually working as you do gossiping about (Y/N), you might actually write something that isn’t utter garbage.”

Padmas face falls and she shrinks in her chair. You reach across and squeeze her hand under the table as Harper continues.

“This week, we’ll be focusing on Viktor Krum. Everyone needs to be on board with this - I need this to be the best series the Howler has published since its debut back in 74.”

With that, Harper turns her back and everyone gets to work.

Immediately, you lean across your desk and catch Padma’s gaze. Tears pool at the corner of her eyes and a pang of sympathy throbs in your chest.

“Don’t worry about what Harper says, Padma,” you coo, patting her hand gently, “At the end of the day, it’s just a school newsletter.”

Troy slides onto your desk and rests a hand on her shoulder, “Beaides, Harpers first article was about Filch! Not to mention she misspelled his name through the entire thing so everyone started calling him ‘Thilch’ for the rest of the school year.”

A smile slowly blooms on Padma’s lips, dimpling her rosy cheeks. She gazes at Troy with twinkling, obsidian eyes.

“Thanks guys,” Padma mumbles bashfully, “Though we should probably get started on this article before Harper snaps at me again.”

Padma reaches into her book bag to fish out her parchment and quills, glancing away from Troy shyly. Troy playfully bumps his shoulder against yours, shooting you a winning grin.

“Heard you were going to Diggory’s tomorrow...” he mutters with a wink, “Meeting the parents already?”

You roll your eyes, “I’ve already met his dad.”

“Yes but it’s the mum you want to impress,” Troy says, “You may not know this but Cedric is a huge mummy’s boy.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah, Big time. And she goes full Mama bear mode, too. She’s scary as fuck. Used to be a psychiatrist at Azkaban if you can believe it.”

You shudder at the thought. It had been terrible enough when Demontors plagued the school last year, hovering over everyone’s shoulder like a curse. You couldn’t imagine what it’d be like to work with them for longer than a year.

“Yikes. That’s...wow.”

“Yeah,” Troy crosses his arms, “She’s pretty gutsy and she’s the type of person you don’t want to cross.”

“Well that’s not nerve wracking or anything. Thanks dickhead.”

Before Troy can respond, Harper spears you with her infamous death glare. You exchange a look with Troy, who laughs, unfazed, before you both decide to get on with your work.

Grabbing your quill and parchment, you head toward Harpers desk where she scribbles frantically against the chalkboard. She hardly spares you a glance and you have to clear your throat to lure her attention away from her work.

“I suppose you want me to interview Krum, then?” You ask. Harper simply nods, continuing to ignore you. You roll your eyes at her and plant your hands on your hips, “What you said to Padma was uncalled for.”

Finally, Harper gives some indication that she can hear you, grunting dismissively.

“It was true.”

“No it wasn’t,” you argue, “Padma is a really good writer.”

Harper sighs and picks up a finger of chalk, scrawling a note in barely-legible chicken scratch, “You should know by now that I don’t settle for ‘really good.’ I settle for excellent.”

“Congratulations, you sound exactly like my father.”

Harper pauses, finally turning to stare at you, “Your father is a literary genius. To be included in the same sentence as him is the best compliment I’ve ever received.”

“Oh boy, you must not get many compliments.”

Harper flashes a smirk, but her eyes betray her amusement.

“I don’t have time for people who are too sensitive to receive criticism,” Harper shrugs, turning back to the chalkboard, “Besides, I was right. If she didn’t gossip so much and focused on her articles, they wouldn’t be so shoddy.”

You frown at the back of her head. Just as you’re about to snap at her, Colin Creevey darts in front of you, beaming up at you with rosy cheeks and a shy smile. Daisy ambles behind him, a scowl souring her face.

“Hey (Y/N),” Colin says, cheerily, “Daisy and I were wondering if you’d seen Noah anywhere.”

“The little creep has missed two meetings already,” Daisy grumbles, rolling her eyes, “And there’s no way I’m doing this assignment alone with crack kid here.”

Your brows furrow in thought as you try to think back to when you last saw Noah, “Now that you mention it, I haven’t seen him for a while...”

Daisy sighs and drops her camera on Harper’s desk, “The Creevey kid’s on his own. Harper can yell at me all she wants; I’m not a babysitter.”

With that, she turns on the thick heel of her combat boots and storms off, completely ignoring Colin as he races after her.

The meeting drags on for another hour, in which you and Padma draft up some questions and submit them to Harper for her approval. She manages not to scrunch up the paper and hurl it at you - which is usually a good sign - but you can tell Padma is still on edge and Harper is still stubbornly unapologetic.

Eventually, you manage to peel yourself away from the newsroom and amble back toward the common room with Dean, laughing and joking on your way back.

“I swear one day Padma is going to punch Harper in the mouth,” Dean smirks, shaking his head, “And I don’t want to be there when it happens.”

“Knowing Harper, she’d probably punch Padma back,” you muse and Dean snorts in agreement.

“Who do you think would win?” He asks, “You know, if they got in a fight?”

“Definitely Harper.”

“I think Padma would get a few good throws in.”

“Maybe but have you seen the guns on Harpers arms? She would have Padma pinned in three seconds tops.”

Dean concedes with a shrug, “Okay you’re right. Harper wins. Now...Harper vs McGonagall. No wands. Just good old fashioned fight.”

“Oooh tough,” you think for a moment, “But I think McGonagall. Definitely McGonagall.”

“Agreed. McGonagall would murder Harper in two seconds flat. But how would she go against Dumbledore?”

You paused on a large stone step, thinking for a moment, “No wands?”

Dean shakes his head, “No wands.”

“Then McGonagall.”

Dean huffs a laugh, “You seem to have a lot of faith in McGongall.”

“Who doesn’t?” You counter, proceeding up the staircase, “She’s a total badass.”

“I won’t argue with that,” Dean says before he spins around to face you, walking backwards, “Okay real talk though. Who would win: me or Seamus?”

“Seamus, definitely. Is that even a question?”

Dean clutches his chest in mock hurt, “You’ve officially been disfriended.”

“That’s not a word.”

“It is now!” He claims, before turning to the Fat Lady, “Flabberghasted.”

You follow Dean through the portrait hole and find Harry sitting in an armchair by the fire. He hasn’t noticed your return, his eyes distracted by the flames as they dance and flicked in the fireplace.

“Night, Arden,” Dean says, peeling your attention away from Harry, “And don’t forget the new word of the day is disfriended.”

Playfully rolling your eyes, you bid Dean a good night and you make your way over to Harry, clearing your throat to announce your arrival. Harry practically leaps from his seat when he sees you.

“Hi,” He murmurs

“Hey,” you smile softly, hoping it’ll hide your nerves, and nod at the fire, “You looked deep in thought.”

Harry shrugs, “I was just thinking about Sirius. I’m worried for him.”

“Me too. I wish he could live his life without having to hide. It’s the least he deserves.”

Harry nods wordlessly. Silence lapses between the two of you, spilling between the cracks dividing you.

You sigh, dropping into a couch and scrubbing your forehead in irritation, “I’m sorry about...everything. About leading you on.”

Harry chews his lip. It’s a little distracting.

“I know you are,” Harry says, as he takes the spot beside you, “And I know you didn’t do it deliberately. It just...hurts a little when the person you like doesn’t like you back. But I’ll get over it...it’s fine.”

“I shouldn’t have ignored your feelings, though. They’re valid. And, even though I’m not sorry for loving Cedric, I’m sorry for not being brave enough to talk to you properly.”

Harry tears his eyes away from the floor and for a moment your hit with a kaleidoscope of soft greens, a light show all for you. He reaches out, hesitating, hand hovering over your knee before he concedes. His hand is warm against your skin, a familiar, welcoming warmth.

“You’re the bravest person I know,” he stares and his conviction makes your heart soar, “Apart from Dumbledore.”

“Of course.”

You both laugh, like sharing a secret among friends, and it almost feels normal again, like when you were first years joking around the fire, before boyfriends and feelings and hormones.

“I don’t want to ruin our friendship,” Harry admits, his expression serious again, “You are one of the bestest friends I’ve ever had.”

“You too,” you rest your hand on his and squeeze, “So let’s move on. Let’s get past this.”

Harry nods in agreement. Maybe it won’t be exactly the same but at least it’ll be close.

It’s better than not having anything at all.

***

A/N prt 2

so i've been getting messages about whether I will write Reader losing her virginity to Cedric and, while I don't mind writing it, i know that there are some people who feel a bit eeky about reader being so young. (Honestly it is weird but you’d be surprised how many people want this)

So, I'm considering posting an extra chapter where Reader and Cedric do have sex on AO3 and everyone who is okay with reading it can head on over and read it. The chapter won't impact the story. However if the majority of people are okay with it then I'll post it on tumblr and AO3 and it will be mentioned in latr chapters. LMK what you think, please.

@marauderskeeper @weaselby418 @acciorinn @hervench @steph-fowlie @lilulo-12 @seunlight@thebesteleganttrashyouseen @elsie2018@polkadotfairyposts @hylianhighlander @dracosdoves@siriuswitches @bernadineisreborn @lousimusician @smolldork @danidomm@xrosegoldwolfx @ashkuuuu @sly-vixen-up2nogood@tchalland @lucifersnipnips @notorious-fiction@peppermintspecks @sleep-i-ness @reducto-bitch @who-said @mhftrs @whimsicalangels1234 @kneekoteen @steve-thotgers @qrangr @valiantlynervouschaos @bennie-badeend @gryffinclxw @fallern618 @alyenaaa @dammit-scamander @kararanae23@myhopeisinfinite @blaised-zabini @poppykoke@swansong321

@dammit-scamander @expellimarvelous @writing-for-a-chance @dynamicxdamsel @oliviaharddyy @padfootersblog @geeky-sydney3 @randomoutsiders @heqrics @marshmallowwisp @sugajam-z @lowkeyweasley

@seriouslynogood @fullmoonremus @blackisforpink @laazullii @itssosopia @random-things-thing @deeveenee @lahoete @urlindah @miraclesoflove @odinsvn @imaginexmeintheuniverse @pancakefancake @xinyourdreamsx @fiantomartell @221bee-slytherin @ranhanabi777 @tomshollandz @alohamadison @rogerscreaming @amarauder @unknowingfuck @21bruhs @brahmi99 @heirofnightandday @yourssuccubus @sarahjeanscott @sofdgray @harrypotterfan1239 @youreverydayzebra @hood-and-horan @xomkailaxo @mrsbluesmize226 @trishizzlmynizzl @thestorybook-adventure @faithsamantha @expectoevans @emilianamason

[killjoystuff]

Some of these may have been edited/had words changed around for ease of roleplaying.  Feel free to change pronouns/wording to suit you!

BUMMERLAND:

❝ Better nix my summer plans. ❞ ❝ It’s my all time low. ❞ ❝ Here I am! ❞ ❝ You’re only going up from here. ❞ ❝ I’ve been alone for too long. ❞ ❝ I can’t afford no nice things. ❞ ❝ When I buy that first beer, I’ll be a goddamn hero. ❞ ❝ And there ain’t no funner-land! ❞

3  O’CLOCK  THINGS:

❝ I promise everything’ll be alright. ❞ ❝ Your eyes are tired but keep ‘em open.  You wouldn’t wanna miss a thing. ❞ ❝ When the hell did advertisements get so good? ❞ ❝ It’s kinda funny how I keep debating if somebody’s shy or if they hate me.❞ ❝ Maybe sex is overrated but we’re too shy to ever say it.❞ ❝ It’s 3AM.  I should be sleeping. ❞ ❝ It’s too hard to tell if anything’s real or not. ❞ ❝ Let’s blame our parents because they taught us their ways. ❞

MY  PLAY:

❝ Haven’t seen the old house lately. ❞ ❝ I don’t want my own love wasted. ❞ ❝ If love dies, do I fucking bother? ❞ ❝ I don’t wanna do it twice ‘cause it’s not the same. ❞ ❝ If we don’t hold out then we’re cowards. ❞ ❝ I put on a play in my basement. ❞ ❝ Guess everything is complicated. ❞ ❝ It’s gonna get really really really really bad before it’s okay. ❞

JOE:

❝ Remember when you laughed at my last name? ❞ ❝ I don’t ever think of you. ❞ ❝ Do you think I’m cool? ❞ ❝ Every time she laughed it would feel fake. ❞ ❝ I don’t even mind, this is so dumb. ❞ ❝ I got friends all up the coast. ❞ ❝ It comes with me where I go. ❞ ❝ You’ll tell me how cool I got. ❞

ADVENTURE  IS  OUT  THERE:

❝ I keep losing my socks.  Where the hell do they go? ❞ ❝ Holy-moly, it’s a real do-nothing day. ❞ ❝ Adventure is out there. ❞ ❝ Adventure is out there, so why am I in here today? ❞ ❝ Think I’m losing my mind. ❞ ❝ I won’t lose them, I’m sure. ❞ ❝ I’ll slip away and they’ll lose me. ❞ ❝ I’ll be seeing the world. ❞

THE  TRICK:

❝ I got a dog and my dog can dance. ❞ ❝ I can be anything that I pretend to be. ❞ ❝ We’ll get out of this too. ❞ ❝ I’m not proud of this but I’m not proud of the truth. ❞ ❝ If you run from me, I’ll use my trick on you. ❞ ❝ The truth is that I’m screwed. ❞ ❝ My dad doesn’t lie, so you can’t meet my dad. ❞

ORDINARY-ISH  PEOPLE:

❝ Your happy friends call you depressing because you wonder why we’re all alive. ❞ ❝ Your downer friends say you’re too happy because you still celebrate sometimes. ❞ ❝ I guess the last time you had any fun was way back when you weren’t anyone. ❞ ❝ You’ve gotta be somebody sometime. ❞ ❝ If you’re nobody, nobody minds. ❞ ❝ You’re not stupid, you’re just special. ❞ ❝ Please yell if you’re paying attention. ❞

HUMPTY  DUMPTY:

❝ Screw it, Ima smile right through it. ❞ ❝ I’ll scream when no one’s around. ❞ ❝ Something’s wrong but I’m scared to look it up. ❞ ❝ If you get sad, then I’ll feel bad I told you at all. ❞ ❝ I could fake it, move away, or I could suck it up and face it. ❞ ❝ You know you can’t be seen. ❞ ❝ I got friends in a lot of weird places. ❞ ❝ I can’t take another panic episode. ❞

WORLD’S  SMALLEST  VIOLIN:

❝ I think I bored my therapist while playing him my violin. ❞ ❝ Next to them, my shit don’t feel so grand. ❞ ❝ I kinda feel like two things can be sad. ❞ ❝ The world’s smallest violin really need an audience. ❞ ❝ I’ve got so much left to prove. ❞ ❝ They’re so good at making friends. ❞ ❝ Somewhere, someone’s got it worse.  Wish that made it easier. ❞ ❝ I know I’m not there mentally but you could be the remedy. ❞

WAY  LESS  SAD:

❝ I don’t wanna hurt no more, so I set my bar real low. ❞ ❝ I’m a-okay! ❞ ❝ You say it but you just don’t mean it. ❞ ❝ I ain’t happy yet  -  but I’m way less sad. ❞ ❝ Living sucks, but it’s sucking just a little now. ❞ ❝ It’s stupid but it’s all I have. ❞ ❝ I’m trying too hard, but I can’t not try. ❞ ❝ I’m not dead yet so I guess I’ll be alright. ❞

CHRISTMAS  IN  JUNE:

❝ I owe you one, yes I do. ❞ ❝ I try so hard to be so happy.  Are you happy too? ❞ ❝ You’re no longer gonna be the plan I miss. ❞ ❝ I won’t ever let you down. ❞ ❝ Can we do Christmas in June? ❞ ❝ You won’t be laughing soon. ❞ ❝ I know you try too. ❞ ❝ Now I’m sitting here thinking about what else I’ll miss.❞

[dailyaudiobible]

02/26/2022 DAB Transcript

Leviticus 19:1-20:21, Mark 8:11-38, Psalms 42:1-11, Proverbs 10:17

Today is the 26th day of February welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I’m Brian it is a great to be here with you today as we bring another week to its close. And we’ll do that by taking the next step forward. And, so, let's do that. We are working our way through the book of Leviticus. We’ve been reading from the Christian Standard Bible this week. Today, Leviticus chapter 19 verse 1 through 20 verse 21.

Prayer:

Father, we thank you for your word. We thank you for another week to spend together in your word. We thank you for the rhythm that we've established together to come around the Global Campfire every day and hear from your word and invite your Holy Spirit to plant the scriptures into our lives, something that we need more than ever, it seems. And in our lifetimes it is more than ever we need is to seep into our lives and be rooted and planted in us that we might truly be transformed, that we do not look in the mirror at the end of this year and see the same person, that we see a person that is a full year into transformation and actively participating in that and actively seeking to collaborate with you in your work in this world, that we really may be your hands and feet doing your bidding and loving it because it's free. It's freeing. Its freedom. So, com Holy Spirit we pray and seal what we’ve read this week into our hearts we pray. In the name of Jesus, we ask. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is home. It’s home base, it’s where you find out what’s going on around here. And, so, be sure to check in. If you’re using the Daily Audio Bible app you can check in there.

Check out the Community section. That's where the Prayer Wall is, and social media links are.

Check out the Daily Audio Bible Shop for resources to take the journey deeper and wider and…well…in some cases just funner…but check out the resources and the Daily Audio Bible Shop.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, thank you profoundly. Thank you. We couldn't be here if we weren't in this together. Thank you for your partnership. There is a link on the homepage at dailyaudiobible.com. If you’re using the app, you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, of course, if you have a prayer request or encouragement, you can at the Hotline button in the app, that’s the little red button up at the top or you can dial 877-942-4253.

And that's it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Community prayer and praise will be posted when I’m back from vacation. Love you family...

[cadence-talle]

Sugar Snow and Peppermint Pathways

Pairing: Fitz Vacker/Dex Dizznee, Sophie Foster/Biana Vacker

Wordcount: 9,587

Summary: Unlike many baking shows out there, the Holiday Bake-Off isn’t elimination-based, which viewers claim makes it all the more interesting. Each competitor, however, is entirely on their own- which means that if the Vacker siblings do attend, they’ll be working against each other for the first time ever.

Dex rolls out the cookie dough again. "I hate them so much."

(Or: nearly everyone is a famous baker, Biana and Fitz are both a little bit in love, and Dex Dizznee does not, under any circumstances, want to interact with the Vackers.) 

Other notes: my Winter Exchange gift for @yeetersofthelostcities! I probably wasn’t supposed to tell you as much about this fic as I did, but it’s also 9k, so I think you can forgive me.

Read it on AO3 (much recommended since this is long and some of the fonts didn’t quite translate to Tumblr) or under the cut!

World-Famous Vacker Siblings Rumored To Be On 2020’s Annual Holiday Bake-Off 

Fitzroy and Biana Vacker have been making a lot of headlines this year, from the opening of their new bakery in Chicago to the millions of dollars they’ve donated to various charities around the globe. The sibling duo seems to have been born with baking skills- and it’s no surprise, since their mother is Della Vacker, author of five bestselling cookbooks. (See our biography of Della Vacker if you’d like to learn more!) 

But this December may mark their greatest trial yet. Netflix’s Happy Holiday Bake-Off garnered more than three million views last year, and it’s set to get even more attention this year now that four-star restaurant owner Edaline Ruewen is hosting. 

For those of you new to the bake-off, the rules are simple: it’s comprised of five different baking challenges, spread out over the week leading up to Christmas Day. Each of the eight competitors will have five different chances to wow the judges- and on the final day, whoever’s made the most impact will win thousands of dollars. Unlike many baking shows out there, the Holiday Bake-Off isn’t elimination-based, which viewers claim makes it all the more interesting. Each competitor, however, is entirely on their own- which means that if the Vacker siblings do attend, they’ll be working against each other for the first time ever. 

--read more--

OTHER NEWS

13 Christmas Cookie recipes to brighten up your winter! 

“It’s All In The Butter”: Edaline Ruewen shares the secret of her famous butterblasts! 

Fintan Pyren opens a new barbeque joint in Upper Manhattan. Its name? Flambé. 

Subscribe to BAKER’S WEEKLY ONLINE today and get a free tote bag! 

-/-

December 12, 2020.

Biana Vacker’s Self-Proclaimed Trash Can Fire

New York City, New York.

“No.”

“Yes,” Biana says cheerfully, leaning over the dining room table to ruffle her brother’s hair. Fitz glares at her. “I’ve already signed the papers.” 

“But-” Fitz sighs, apparently already giving up. “Ugh. I’m busy.” 

“Fun fact: spending thirty hours trying to refine the perfect croissant recipe does not qualify as being ‘busy’. Our croissants are delicious. They don’t need any more work. You, however, need a vacation.” 

“Funner fact: competing against my own sister on a reality show broadcast to the country is less of a vacation than working out apricot croissants would be.” 

“Even more fun fact: ‘funner’ is not a word.” 

“Even funner fact: I literally do not give a single fuck.” 

Della’s laugh crackles over the phone, warm and bright. “Language, Fitzroy,” she says. Livvy snorts. 

“He’s twenty-two years old, Dell. I don’t think you get to say that.” 

Biana giggles. She can almost picture the scene at the other end of the call- her moms curled up on the couch, Della nursing a cup of mulled cider as Livvy talks intently about her patients at the hospital. Their menorah will have four candles lit by tonight, mirroring the one that sits on Biana’s own side table. The whole house will be filled with warmth and laughter. 

Biana misses that sometimes, looking around her empty apartment. Wishes she was still a little girl and could snuggle up next to her mom and watch The Nutcracker because Della knew, without asking, that Biana was sad. Before all this… responsibility.

That’s not really fair, though, because when she was a little girl Livvy wasn’t there, and Della was sad, and Fitz was angry. So maybe she doesn’t miss the old days- maybe she just misses having someone there to understand her. 

Fitz is here, she reminds herself. He’s not leaving. He’s good, and he’s not leaving. 

“... chocolate chips on the ceiling,” her brother is saying when Biana snaps back to the conversation. Over the phone, Della groans. 

“Don’t even mention that. Goodness, I’m glad you’ve left the ‘crazy parties’ stage of your life behind, Fitz. Those were hell to clean up after.” 

“I don’t know, it was pretty funny to watch him try to repair a chair while hungover the next morning,” Biana teases. Fitz rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. 

“I didn’t-” 

There’s a loud beeping noise Biana registers as an oven timer, and she spins around towards her kitchen before realizing it’s coming from her moms’ end. Della makes an apologetic noise. 

“Sorry, darlings, we should go. I love you!”

“Love you too,” Biana and Fitz echo. There’s a rustling sound, like Della is moving to hang up, and then she pauses. 

“Oh, and Fitz, I think the Holiday Bake-Off is a wonderful idea. Good luck!” 

And then Biana’s phone is flashing the Time Elapsed: 22 minutes screen, and her brother is back to glaring at her. 

“No.”

“I’m not arguing this anymore,” Biana says, moving towards the kitchen and filling up a pot of water. “Do we want spaghetti for dinner?”

“Sure,” Fitz retrieves several cans of tomato sauce and dumps them in a pot. “I just- sorry. What if we lose?”

“Well, at least one of us is going to lose,” Biana points out. “And even if we both get the lowest ratings in the entire show, so what? We don’t need the money.”

“But-” Fitz waves his hands in the air. “We’re going to be- people are going to be watching us. What happens if we fuck up?” 

Oh. Of course that’s what he’s worried about. Fitz has always, always been worried about public appearances. Biana sets the water on the stove and moves over to him, leaning against the opposite counter. 

“Bro. Man. My dude.” She says seriously. Fitz purses his lips in a way that makes it clear he’s hiding a smile. “Fitz, we’re going to be fine. No one’s going to be judging how we do in this competition.”

“Sorry, do you hear yourself?”

“Okay, fair, but you know what I mean. Losing this contest isn’t going to wreck our business. If we can strike up enough of a friendship with whoever does win, we could even stand to grow.”

Fitz stares at her. Biana stares back. The tomato sauce starts to bubble. 

“Fine,” Fitz finally says. “Do we have any veggie meatballs?” 

-/-

December 13, 2020.

The Good Place Bakery

Middlebury, Vermont. 

Dex drops the cookie dough onto the flour-covered counter, smacking it with what’s probably more force than necessary. It holds up, though, and he cuts out two entire trays of tiny snowmen and stars before his co-owner arrives in a blaze of glory. 

“Guess who’s got a date this weekend!” Keefe sings, dumping his coat on a hook and pushing himself up on the counter. He gets a good look at Dex’s face and frowns. “Whoa, who bruleed your creme?”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Dex rolls his eyes, “and everything’s fine. What poor guy did you pick up now?”

“His name’s Nathan and he’s beautiful,” Keefe sighs. “But don’t try to change the subject. Why do you have your grumpy face on?”

Dex grabs the letter from where he threw it across the room half an hour ago and hands it to the other man. Keefe skims it. 

“You have been invited onto Netflix’s Happy Holiday Bake-Off,” he reads. He glances up at Dex. “Okay… didn’t we already know that? Soph’s been talking about the contest for weeks.”

“Yes, but I got more information this time around,” Dex says tightly. “And it turns out the Vacker siblings are also competing.”

“Oh.” Keefe sets the letter down and picks up one of the cookie sheets, sliding it into the oven. “Well, I think you can beat them.”

“Of course I can beat them,” Dex snaps. “That’s not the problem. The problem is-” he sweeps up the dough scraps and prepares to roll them out again. “The problem is they’re fake and I don’t like them.”

He’s aware he sounds like a child. It’s hard to describe, though, what makes him so frustrated about the Vacker siblings. The two of them just make it look so… easy, though. Born into fame and given a head start in front of everyone else. Dex had to take out three different loans to start this bakery, and even that was with Keefe’s huge trust fund. 

“They’re just… fake,” he says lamely. “No one’s that perfect.” 

“Mmm.” Keefe hums, then murmurs, “okay, but you know who is that perfect?”

Dex sighs. “Okay, tell me about Nathan.”

Keefe is halfway through the story of how they met- at the library, apparently, because that’s widely known to be the most romantic spot in town- when Amy shoves through the doors and steals an unbaked cookie. 

“Morning,” she grins around a mouthful of crumbs. Dex raises an eyebrow and slides the cookie sheet towards Keefe before she can eat more. 

“Morning,” he says. “How’s Marty?”

“Still hates everyone but Sophie,” Amy shrugs. “Who isn’t here, obviously, because she and Mom are in Chicago setting up the Bake-Off.” She squints at Dex. “I can’t believe you got onto the show. There have to be rules against that.”

“Technically, that only applies if it’s direct relation. So, like, kids and parents.” Keefe grabs a piece of cookie dough. “Plus, even if Edaline did give Dex super high ratings on everything, he can’t win unless the other judges agree.”

“You’re going to get salmonella,” Dex tells the two of them. “But yeah, Keefe’s right. I’ll have to actually try if I want to win.”

“Do you?” Amy asks. Dex bites his lip, dusting some flour off his shirt.

“The money would be nice, I guess. But- I don’t know. We’ll get publicity either way, and that’s what’s important.”

“Attaboy,” Keefe gives him a thumbs-up. “You’re gonna win all the brownie points. Well, assuming they have you make brownies.”

“I-” Dex stares at him, shaking his head. “Why don’t you tell Amy about Nathan.” 

-/-

December 17, 2020.

Some Fancy Hotel

Chicago, Illinois. 

Biana glances around the room, light reflecting off the chandelier above and casting glittering patterns on the carpet and various couches scattered around the hall-like space. Four days have passed she broke the news to Fitz, and she’s wondering if this was a bad idea after all.

She’s not the first one here, thank goodness; there’s a tiny blond woman seated on a chair further down chatting to a man with silver-dyed bangs and a frizzy-haired woman tapping impatiently on her phone a few feet away. A door at the other end of the hall presumably leads further into the hotel. 

A buzz in her pocket prompts her to retrieve her phone, and Biana opens it to find three texts from her brother.

ritzroy

Ok I made it to our room

[image.jpg]

There’s a paper crane on the kitchen counter is this some sort of message

me

yes.

they're trying to tell u that u r a paper crane

ritzroy

*you *are 

I know you only do that to annoy me.

me

<3

now get down here i feel awkward standing all by myself

ritzroy 

Have you tried talking to people?

me

fuck you

Sighing a bit, she plops down on a couch half-obscured by a large plant. Someone coughs from where they’re sitting next to her and Biana turns around to apologize. 

“Hi,” says Sophie Foster. 

Biana stares. The woman is about half an inch shorter than her, blond hair tucked back into a ponytail and white blouse slightly wrinkled. Biana’s seen this face on television upwards of a hundred times- the award-winning chef daughter of Grady and Edaline Ruewen attracts attention, after all- but never quite like this, with eyebrows furrowed and mouth tilted a little to the side. 

“Hey,” Biana says about a minute too late. “Hey, sorry, I didn’t know there was someone sitting here.” 

“No problem,” Sophie assures her. “You’re Biana Vacker, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Biana nods, slightly stunned that Sophie Elizabeth Foster knows her name. “You’re- Sophie Foster.”  

“That’s me,” Sophie says, smiling a little. “You ready for the competition?”

“Definitely,” Biana responds. “I mean, I don’t celebrate Christmas, but I watched the Holiday Bake-Off last year, and it seems like it’s super fun? And it’ll be cool to see what other people make too.” 

“Yeah.” Silence falls over the two of them, and Biana cringes inwardly. This is the worst possible thing. Where on earth is her brother? 

Searching for something to say, Biana opens her mouth. “Um-”

“Huh?” Sophie turns a little more towards her, eyes fixed on Biana’s face. Biana swallows a little.

“Uh, I was actually really nervous when I noticed I was sitting next to you. I’m kind of a huge fan.” 

Sophie blinks. “You’re kidding.”

“No?”

“When I found out you were going to be competing, I literally asked my mom if she could get me on the show because I wanted to meet you so bad.”

Biana’s staring again. “Oh.” 

Sophie’s phone buzzes and she pulls it out, tapping the screen. Biana tilts her head a little in confusion.

“Gotta go,” Sophie says with an apologetic smile. She stands up and starts towards the door, turning back to say one last thing before she leaves. 

“You’re even prettier in person.” 

When Fitz shows up two minutes later, Biana’s still staring wide-eyed at the place where Sophie was just standing. Her brother flops down onto the couch next to her and raises an eyebrow. 

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” Biana shakes her head. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Well, I dropped the bags off. The room’s nice,” Fitz offers. “Oh, and Mom says we should video chat tonight. She wants the tea.”

Biana blinks. “The… tea.”

“Her words, not mine.”

“Yeah, I think I could tell. What-”

“Hello, everyone!” The door at the end of the hall swings open and a smiling red-haired woman steps out, followed by two others. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Edaline Ruewen, from Vermont. I’ll be one of the judges next week. We’re all gonna go around and introduce ourselves, I’ll outline a schedule, and then y’all will be free to go. Cadence?”

“Good afternoon,” a tall dark-skinned woman greets. “I’m Cadence Talle, food journalist for the LA Times. I’ll be another one of your judges, along with-”

“Bronte.” The third man interrupts. He raises an eyebrow at the faces waiting for him to go on. “Well?”

“Looks like someone’s judging us already,” Fitz whispers. Biana muffles a laugh in her coat sleeve as the blond woman from before speaks up. 

“Hi, I’m Marella Redek. I’m a pastry chef over in Portland.” 

“Tam Song. I do the baking for a restaurant here in the city.”

People introduce themselves quickly, names flashing by in quick succession- Maruca Chebota, Jensi Babblos, Stina Heks. 

“I’m Biana Vacker,” Biana says when it’s her turn. “My brother and I co-manage a couple bakeries across the country.” 

Fitz raises his hand. “I’m her brother.” 

“Dex Dizznee,” says the last competitor, a strawberry-blond man seated on the arm of a couch. “I have a bakery up in Middlebury.” 

“Wait, The Good Place?” Fitz leans forward. “I made your chocolate cream pie recipe once. It’s fantastic.”

Dex blinks, face finally settling in an expression that reminds Biana of some of the people at the huge dinner parties her dad used to throw- carefully, delicately concealed disdain. She wonders what Fitz has done to warrant that look. 

“Oh, that’s cool,” Dex says calmly. “Chocolate cream is one of my co-owner’s favorites, actually.” 

Fitz nods. “Neat.” 

Edaline smiles at them, clapping her hands for attention. “All right! Let’s go over the schedule, then. The first round is on Saturday, and the last one is next Wednesday. You’ll be expected to arrive at the kitchens by eleven am…”

“What’s up with him?” Biana whispers. Fitz raises one shoulder in a tiny shrug. 

“I don’t know, but he doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

There’s no way Dex can hear them- he’s nearly fifteen feet away and Edaline’s voice carries throughout the entire hall. Still, he’s staring at Fitz when Biana glances at him, and there’s molten caramel in his gaze. 

-/-

December 17, 2020.

Some Fancy Room In Some Fancy Hotel

Chicago, Illinois.

“And then he just went, ‘Neat.’ Neat? Like, what the fuck?”

“Dude, you know I love you, but don’t you think you’re making a bit of a big deal out of this? He just complimented the bakery.”

Dex heaves a sigh, flopping onto his hotel bed and staring up at the light fixture. It’s probably trendy, with all those boxes or whatever, but Dex can’t really tell. This is why he’s a baker. 

“I know, I know. He just- gets under my skin. I’ve been pissed all day.”

“Funny,” Keefe says, and Dex can just hear him smiling. “I thought you had more of a problem with the Vackers as a whole than you did with Fitz. Or is he just too attractive to be anything but your singular arch-nemesis?” 

“Enemies to lovers speedrun,” Amy calls in the background and Keefe laughs. He’s probably having dinner with Grady and Amy tonight like they typically do once a month. Normally, Dex, Sophie and Edaline are there too. 

Dex’s family is weirdly spread across the country- Grady and Edaline live an hour away, Rex and Bex are somehow both coexisting at Seattle University while Lex stays closer to home back in Michigan, and Sophie and Amy split their time between Middlebury and their apartment in San Francisco. They do their best to stay in touch, though, even with the bakery’s odd hours and the Ruewen’s constant media appearances. 

“So how’s the hotel?” Keefe asks. Dex shrugs. 

“It’s a hotel. My room has a little kitchen, which is nice, and there’s, like, a bigger community pantry-slash-kitchen down the hall. It feels like college.” 

“College is worse, actually,” Amy says. Dex snorts.

“You say that like I haven’t been to college.” 

“Dude, we met in college,” Keefe points out, “and you did not get the full college experience. You just, like, baked 23/7 and then miraculously passed all your classes with the last hour.”

“Yes,” Dex says over the sound of Amy’s cackling. “Yes, that is exactly what I did. You’re completely right.” 

“I know,” Keefe says. “I’m always right. I have, never, ever done anything wrong.”

“You called me this morning to freak out over your date outfit for a date that’s three days away, but go off I guess.” Amy deadpans. 

“Fuck you-” The sounds of a small scuffle come through the speakers and Dex rolls his eyes. 

“I’m going to sleep,” he calls. “See you guys in a week.”

“Good luck!” Amy calls, and Dex hangs up. 

-/-

December 19, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois.

Biana tucks one last strand of hair back into her braid and glances over at the imposing black camera standing next to her station. There are ones just like it scattered around the entire room, fluorescent overhead lights reflected off their shiny exteriors. It’ll be weird trying to bake with someone recording her the whole time, but she can take it.

“Good morning, everyone!” Edaline calls, sweeping out to the judges bench with Cadence and Bronte close on her heels. There’s some sort of sheet-covered circle on the wall behind them. “I hope y’all are ready to bake!”

Everyone cheers and Edaline throws her head back, laughing a laugh with just enough snort in it to sound real. Biana’s reminded suddenly of her own mother; Edaline has the same sort of tough core and caring nature covered by a thin layer of plastic for the cameras. She wonders if Sophie is the same.

“And without further ado,” Edaline says. Biana snaps her attention back, hoping she hasn’t missed anything important. “Today’s challenge is…”

Bronte tugs on the fabric and it falls away to reveal a casino-style roulette wheel. If Biana squints, she can see words written on each colored section; CHOCOLATE and RASPBERRY and ALMOND. 

“Cookies,” he announces. 

Cadence sweeps her gaze over all of them. “Spin the wheel twice to find out what ingredients you need to include, and then you’ll have forty-five minutes to bake. Understood?”

Biana nods, glancing at the camera out of the corner of her eye and rearranging her face into something a bit more excited. She should probably start thinking about what to say in the post-baking interview.

Fitz is the first to spin the wheel, and he gets COCONUT and STRAWBERRY. He looks a little confused but smiles, media persona still firmly in place. 

Biana gets GINGER and CHOCOLATE, returning to her station with a wide smile. This recipe is one she created with Livvy- they were home alone while Della and Fitz went out to a show and decided to try the most difficult food combinations they could think of.

Honey-covered crickets were surprisingly delicious. Hot sauce mixed with Gatorade was not.

(I knew what I was going to do immediately, she tells the cameras afterward. It’s a family favorite; chocolate-ginger crinkle cookies.)

She retrieves a packet of candied ginger and grabs two bags of chocolate chips, dumping one bag in a saucepan and starting to melt them. A few feet away, Dex Dizznee stares at his ingredients- ALMOND and ANISE, a fairly simple combination- before turning away towards the ingredients. If Biana had to hazard a guess, she’d say he’s making biscotti. 

(Biscotti’s probably too obvious for almonds, Dex shrugs later, but my friend Keefe and I perfected an almond-anise biscotti a while back and I figured, why waste what little time I had on something new?)

Once she gets started, it’s easy to just focus on the recipe. She’s not like Fitz; baking’s not the be-all end-all stress reliever it is for him, but there’s definitely something comforting about the familiar motions. Before she knows it, she’s pulling the sheets out of the oven and arranging the prettiest ones on a plate for the judges to try.

Marella Redek goes up first, showing off her caramel-pecan shortbread with a polite smile. 

(I’m just glad I didn’t get one of those crazy combinations, she says with a sigh of relief.)

Then Fitz, who’s managed to make tiny sandwich cookies filled with strawberry jam and dusted with coconut in forty-five minutes. He fidgets with his hands as the judges taste them.

(I was really worried when I got my ingredients. I’m so relieved they turned out okay.) 

Biana’s cookies go over well, Cadence nodding and reaching for another one. Finally Dex Dizznee steps up. 

“Almond-anise biscotti,” he says with a small smile. The judges all bite into the cookies at the same time and smile.

“Delicious,” Bronte says. Dex grins and steps back to his station.

Fifteen minutes later, the contestants stand in front of the judges bench in a straight line, worried eyes and tapping feet all the way down.

“All your cookies were exquisite,” Edaline says. “But one of you made a fantastic first impression.” 

Cadence offers the group a tiny, sideways smile. “Dexter Dizznee,” she says. “You are today’s winner.”

There’s a round of applause and Dex’s cheeks go a little bit red. 

“Thank you,” he says.

(I won! It’s only the first round, of course, but I’m still proud to have started off on the right foot.)

“Hey,” Biana nudges her brother’s shoulder as they trail out of the room for individual interviews.“That wasn’t too bad, huh?” 

“No,” Fitz tilts his head and glances back at the still-smiling Dex. “I guess it wasn’t.”

(I don’t think I’m too sad about losing this round. Dex’s cookies looked absolutely delicious, anyway.)

Biana’s phone buzzes on the way back to her room. She pulls it out to see two messages from an unknown number. 

415-623-7868 

hi!! sorry if this is mega creepy but it was super cool to meet you the other day and i’d love to talk more sometime

this is sophie foster btw

“Holy shit,” Biana whispers. Her brother turns around with a questioning glance but she waves him off. “Nothing, I’m fine.” She’s pretty sure she’s grinning at her phone screen with all the force of a thousand suns. “I’m totally fine.”

(Tomorrow, we try again.) 

-/-

December 20, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois. 

Buoyed by the previous day’s success and an especially good breakfast buffet (he is not immune to chocolate-chip pancakes, no matter what he might claim), Dex practically floats into the kitchen the next day. His mood isn’t even brought down by Bronte’s lackluster announcement that the second challenge is simply Snowflakes. The bakery’s meringues are a town favorite for a reason, after all, and that reason is that they’re fucking good. 

He does get annoyed, though, by the man leaning against a counter a few feet away as he pipes the meringue. Fitz Vacker is tapping his fingers against the marble, watching the ice cream machine with a calm sort of fixation. Dex huffs and accidentally pipes too much meringue on the baking sheet. 

“Do you mind?” He grumbles under his breath. Fitz’s head snaps up. 

“Sorry,” he says, slight accent curling around his words. It’s not a British accent or really any sort Dex can discern, and that just makes him more frustrated. “Am I in your way?”

“No,” Dex says as politely as he can. He’s well aware of the cameras standing a few feet away. “No, you're fine.”

Fitz nods and tilts his head towards the meringues, apparently taking Dex’s grudging silence as an invitation. “Those look pretty good.”

“Thank you,” Dex says shortly, letting out an annoyed sigh internally when Fitz doesn’t budge. “You’re making ice cream?”

“Heh, yeah. I couldn’t really think of anything else, so.” Fitz shrugs. “Ice cream bars.” He scratches the back of his neck, looking a little embarrassed. “At least it’s cold, right? Like snow.” 

This startles a laugh out of Dex. “Yeah, like snow.” He leans back a little to give the now-completed snowflakes a once-over. “What do you think?”

“They look great!” Fitz enthuses, jumping a bit when the ice cream machine lets out a long beep. “Oh, looks like that’s me. I should go. Nice to meet you!”

And then he’s off to his own station, bowl of ice cream clutched tightly in one hand. Dex allows himself thirty seconds of staring into the camera like he’s on The Office before he sighs and slides the meringues into the oven. 

What on earth was that. 

He bumps into Sophie on his way out of the room after interviews. Biana Vacker’s chocolate-pecan-bark snowflakes won today; unsurprising, since they looked almost real- and he kind of just wants to go back to his room and sleep for a month. His cousin, however, seems to have other ideas.

“Quick,” she says, grabbing his arm. Her phone is in her other hand, screen lighting up with a message. “How much would my mom kill me if I went on a date with one of the Bake-Off contestants?”

“Um,” Dex blinks. “I’m going to need some more information?” 

“Okay, so I met Biana Vacker the other day, and I might have gotten her number from the contestant files we have? And then texted her? For like five hours last night? And I might have asked her out and she might have said yes?” Sophie tugs at her eyelashes. “Please help me, I have no idea what the fuck I’m going to do.”

“You’re going on a date with Biana Vacker,” Dex confirms. “Why?” 

“Because she’s smart, and pretty, and incredibly funny, and because I don’t have some weird hate-obsession with her.” 

“I don’t-”

“Yes, you do. Seriously, how much is Mom going to murder me for this?”

“How much is Mom going to murder you for what?”

Edaline’s standing a few feet away, arms folded across her chest and eyebrows raised. Sophie’s eyes go wide, but she sighs as if already giving up.

Dex gets it. Edaline is scary when she wants to be.

“Is it illegal and-slash-or nepotism if I go on a date with Biana Vacker tomorrow night?”

Edaline blinks. “Probably not? As long as you can confirm that she’s not using you to get further in the contest.” She shrugs. “I could talk to Cadence and Bronte about it, but they were all right with Dex being on the show, so.”

“Wait, really?” Sophie grins and throws her arms around her mother. “This is the best. Thanks, Mom! I’m gonna go text her.” 

She takes off down the hall, typing frantically. Edaline watches her go with a fond smile. 

“It’s incredibly weird to see her this old,” She says to Dex. “I still think of her as twelve, honestly.”

Dex snorts. “Yeah.”

“So,” Edaline cocks her head, looking at him with the same I’m going to ask you a question and we both know what the right answer is look that Dex’s own mother has. “I saw you talking to Fitz Vacker earlier. Making friends?”

“No.” Dex says immediately. Then he rolls his eyes. “He’s not as bad as I was expecting, though.”

“What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know, like, posh and rich and British or whatever they are. But he’s actually a decent person or whatever.”

“Or whatever.” Edaline laughs. “Well, I’m glad you’re having fun either way. I’ve got to get to a meeting, but I’ll see you later, all right? Say hi to Keefe for me.”

Dex nods and heads back to his room.

He really needs to sleep. 

-/-

December 21, 2020.

The Art Institute of Chicago

Chicago, Illinois.

“Here we are,” Sophie says as they push through museum security and enter the clearly-marked Thorne Rooms. Biana glances at the art curiously; the exhibit is made up of tiny glass windows set into low walls all around. She peers into one and lets out a tiny gasp. 

“Oh.”

It’s a tiny room in there; chairs and sofas all with perfectly embroidered cushions as small as Biana’s thumb. Through minuscule doors in the back, Biana glimpses a painted background and a balcony. It’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. 

Sophie snorts behind her, and Biana realizes she said that last bit out loud. “Right? It’s all real, too. Took Narcissa Thorne and her craftsmen eight years.”

“Wow.” 

“I used to come here all the time,” Sophie says, stepping forward and tracing one finger over the glass. “Whenever we were in town. I wished I could live in some of these rooms.” She glances back at Biana and gives a little self-deprecating smile. “Pretty stupid, probably.”

“No, it’s not,” Biana shakes her head. “I get it. It would be nice to escape for a little bit, especially to a place that looks like that.” She tilts her head at the room. Sophie laughs. 

“I’ll bet it gets really dusty, though. And that chair seems highly uncomfortable.”

They move throughout the whole exhibit, making low comments to each other every time they see a particularly amazing piece of furniture or a fancy candlestick. Biana finds herself relaxing more and more- Sophie is smart, and funny, and keeps shooting her little smiles that make Biana’s knees weak. 

That day’s competition had been the hardest yet. Each contestant had had to make a dessert based around a Christmas carol; a specific, judge-assigned Christmas carol. It was, for lack of a better term, absolute shit.

Biana had gotten Santa Claus Is Coming To Town- not the worst, considering the circumstances, and at least she knew it- and had had to figure out how to map the route of an overweight stalker on baked goods. 

She hadn’t won; that honor had gone to Maruca Chebota’s fondant replica of a sleigh for Over The River And Through The Woods. (Biana is pretty sure that song is actually a Thanksgiving song, but she wasn’t going to contradict.) Still, Biana’s happy, content as they leave the museum and move down to an Italian restaurant a few blocks away. Smiling as Sophie’s hand brushes against hers. 

They get settled in a little corner near a window, knees bumping under the table. The room is dim, lit by one chandelier in the middle and candles on every table. It’s warm, something delicious wafting through the air. 

Sophie leans forward to grab a menu, hair lit golden in the candlelight, and Biana revises her earlier statement. The Thorne Rooms aren’t the most beautiful things she’s ever seen. This woman is. 

“Everything okay?” Sophie asks. Biana realizes she’s been staring and gives her a quick nod. 

“Yeah, no. Everything’s perfect.” She glances down at the tablecloth, sees Sophie fidgeting with the edge of her napkin. “Are you all right?”

“I, uh,” Sophie tugs at one of her eyelashes. “I just wanted to say that I don’t really tend to talk to my mom about the competition? So, like, if you’re just trying to get an edge or something-”

“No!” Biana shakes her head, reaching forward to grab the other woman’s hand. “No, no no. Absolutely not. This is like, the opposite of that.” 

“Pretty sure the opposite of that would be divorcing me to lose the Bake-Off,” Sophie says, but she’s smiling. Biana smiles back. 

“Well, I don’t want to do that either.”

“What do you want to do?”

Biana shrugs. “I don’t know. This is pretty nice. I like spending time with you.”

Sophie blushes and tightens her grip on Biana’s hand. “I-”

“Pardon me.” There’s a waiter standing next to their table, notepad in hand. He offers them an awkward smile. “Are you ready to order?”

“Right!” Biana says at the same time as Sophie’s “Yes! For sure! Just give me a second!”. They grin at each other and look back down at the menus. 

“Thank you,” Sophie murmurs after they’ve ordered. Biana doesn’t have to ask what for. 

“Of course.”

(Biana leans down to kiss her barely an hour later. Sophie smiles against her lips and tugs her in closer.)

(Biana doesn’t get back to her hotel that night.)

-/-

December 22, 2020.

Some Fancy Hotel 

Chicago, Illinois. 

Dex can’t sleep. 

There’s no particular reason why, no loud party down the street or flashing lights outside his window. He just can’t sleep, which is especially frustrating when he glances at the clock and finds it’s one AM. Tomorrow- or, today, really- is event four, and if he wants to make a good impression, he’d better do it on more than three hours of sleep.

Heaving a sigh, he flops himself out of bed and flips on the light switch. As long as he’s awake, he might as well read or something. 

A loud crash sounds from down the hall. Dex blinks and grabs his sneakers, opening his door and peeking out. No one’s in sight, but rustling noises are coming from the communal kitchen a few doors away. Dex decides that sleep is for the weak and pads down to investigate.

Fitz Vacker is standing in the middle of the kitchen, aggressively stirring a bowl of what looks like cookie dough and frowning. There’s a flour-dusted cookbook on the counter.

“Um.” Dex coughs a little. Fitz looks up from the cookie dough and turns toward him. He's wearing a sweatshirt thrown over a pair of what looks like Walgreens-brand pajamas. Dex is a little surprised that a Vacker would wear something that shitty. 

“Sorry,” he says in his annoyingly perfect accent. “Did I wake you up?”

“Nah, you’re fine. Why are you still awake?”

Fitz shrugs. “Couldn’t fall asleep. You?”

“Same.” Dex moves over and peers into the bowl. “Sugar cookies?”

“They’re a classic Christmas cookie, right?” Fitz looks at him. Dex blinks. “No, really, I’m asking. I don’t celebrate Christmas.”

This startles a laugh out of Dex. “Yeah, they’re a classic. My aunt used to make them all the time in December. I’d come home from school and she’d be, like, chilling on our couch with three different kinds of cookies.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t even realize she was famous until I was eight. She was just Aunt Eda.”

“My mom used to have to do all these photo shoots? With baked goods and shit? And she’d bring me and Bi along because our daycare didn’t go that late so we’d just be hanging out around this camera equipment and doing our best not to break anything.” Fitz looks down and stirs the cookie dough a bit more. “Bi always says we grew up with a camera in our faces, so much that we never learned to be normal. She’s more right than I’d like to think.”

Dex doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have anything to say; he’s always assumed, like so many other people, that the spotlight on the Vackers was effortless and encouraged. Life seemed so easy for them. 

Of course it does, Dex reminds himself. Life always looks easy when you’re the one looking at it. 

“Sorry,” Fitz grabs the bowl and turns away, reaching up into a cabinet for some powdered sugar. “I get… honest when I’m tired.” 

“Yeah, well, I get grumpy, so you’re still better off.” Dex grabs a baking sheet out of where they’re being stored in the oven, since the cookies look about ready to be rolled out. “You’re fine, though. No cameras here.” 

You’re not being judged here, he means. I’d like to get to know you. 

This must translate at least a little, because Fitz gives him a small smile and dumps the dough out onto the counter. 

“Help me? I think the cookie cutters are in the bottom left drawer.”

“Got it.” Dex grabs a tiny metal snowman and cuts out a piece of dough, laying it flat on the metal sheet. He’s reminded suddenly of going through the same motions back home, with Keefe and Amy arguing good-naturedly over his head. 

There’s a different air in the kitchen right now. It’s quieter, slower, dark-dark-chocolatey; something bitter and sweet and smooth all at the same time. 

“Are you worried about the competition?” He asks. Fitz blinks, lifting another three cookies onto the sheet before answering. 

“I don’t think so. I was, before, but once I got here…” he gives an expansive shrug. “It’s just baking. Baking calms me down.” 

“Hence the cookies at one AM,” Dex notes. Fitz laughs. 

“Hence the stress-baking cookies at one AM,” he agrees. “I don’t even think I was stressed about the contest, just-” he waves a hand in the air. “Just stressed in general.” 

“I get that.” Dex presses a few buttons on the oven and tilts his head toward the table a few feet away. They’ll need to wait for the oven to heat up before they put the cookies in. “I was pretty scared of fucking up at first, but, I mean, it’s a baking competition. Everyone’s gonna forget the butter at some point.” 

Fitz squints at him. “I can’t tell if ‘forget the butter’ is an expression I’m unaware of, or if you actually did that and I just didn’t hear about it.” 

“Maruca from Cali did that, actually. I have more style, at least- I forgot the eggs.”

“My friend’s cat got into my kitchen once,” Fitz says seriously. “Not during this contest, but when I was making her daughter’s birthday cake. There was hair everywhere. It was… a cat-astrophe.”

Both of them are silent for almost a full minute, just staring at each other, before Dex breaks down.

“That was terrible,” he wheezes, trying to stop laughing. Fitz grins. 

“I know, I’m embarrassed of myself.”

“You should be.”

The oven beeps and they both startle, turning toward it. Fitz retrieves an oven mitt and slides the cookies into the oven. Dex closes the door and stands back up, suddenly realizing how close they’re standing. 

“You should try to sleep,” Fitz says quietly. “It’s late.”

Dex nods slightly but doesn’t move. There’s a tiny bit of flour on Fitz’s cheekbone. He doesn’t know why he notices it. 

They seem to stand there forever, just looking at each other. Then, suddenly, Fitz turns away and looks over the cookbook again. 

“I should sleep,” Dex says. Fitz nods, face shadowed in the dim lights. Dex turns away and heads back to his room. 

What the fuck was that. 

-/-

December 23, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois. 

“Dex Dizznee. Biana Vacker. Maruca Chebota. And Tam Song.” Bronte reads out the names, then looks down at the contestants. “The four of you have won the past events, so you’ll get an extra prize today.”

“As you all know, today is the last event!” Edaline says cheerfully. “All eight of you have made some truly fantastic desserts in the past week, but only one person can win and today’s your final chance to really wow the judges. So, Event Five is…”

Cadence gestures toward the table up front, which holds two candy-covered houses. “Gingerbread houses,” she says. “You have four hours to bake, assemble, and decorate a gingerbread house with your partner.”

“Yep, you’ll be working in pairs for this one,” Edaline says when the murmurs start up. “And our four previous winners get to choose who they’re working with.” She smiles at Biana. “Although, Miss Vacker, I’m afraid you can’t work with your brother.” 

Biana laughs, turning and holding out a hand to Marella Redek instead. “All right. How about it, partner?”

Marella shrugs and takes her hand. Edaline gestures to Dex. 

He glances over the seven remaining contestants. Jensi Babblos seems nice- he probably wouldn’t be too bad to work with. Or maybe he can pair up with another winner and ask Maruca?

Then Fitz catches his eye and Dex remembers the previous day, cutting out cookies in the early-early morning light. It’s not really a choice after that. 

“Fitz,” he decides, and the man strides over to stand next to him. 

The other two pairs find each other, Edaline lays out the final rules, and then she shouts go! and they’re off. 

“Hand me the cinnamon?” Dex asks. Fitz drops it into his hand and Dex dumps a tablespoon in the bowl, starting up the mixer. “Okay, and we should get the icing started so it has time to cool-”

“Already done,” Fitz says. He points to a bowl of fluffy white icing on the counter a foot away. “We should probably-”

“Figure out the decorations, yeah. You wanna-”

“Sketch something?”

They grin at each other and Dex pours the gingerbread batter into a pan. “Perfect,” he says. The oven lets out a tiny beep when he closes it. 

The hours pass quickly, in a blur of candy and icing. They cover the sides of the house in dark red modeling chocolate and drag a toothpick through them for the individual bricks, carefully shape a vanilla wafer chimney, build a candy-cane fence. The actual construction of the house is tricky- Dex has to hold the walls up while Fitz pipes the icing and then keeps holding them until it sets. They get through it with only one roof collapse, though, and the final house looks pretty good. Fitz glues down three peppermints to make a path in front of the door, Dex attaches tiny sugar cookie trees to the ground, and they’re done with two minutes to spare.

“Wait, no. Hang on.” Fitz rummages through the mess they’ve made at their station, skirting a camera and grabbing the half-empty container of powdered sugar. He dumps it into a sieve. 

“Snow,” he and Dex say in unison. Fitz laughs and shakes the sieve over their presentation board, covering the whole thing in a fine layer of powder. 

“Perfect,” Dex says just as the timer goes off. “Let’s win this thing.”

-/-

December 23, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois. 

Cameras flash as they zero in on Dex and Fitz’s gingerbread house, presumably taking the shots that will go along with Edaline’s and the winner of Event Five is Fitz Vacker and Dex Dizznee! announcement in the actual show. Biana’s staring at the opposite wall, though; if she looks towards the recording equipment, she doubts she’ll be able to hide how nervous she is. 

The competition doesn’t matter in the long run, but it would be really, really cool to win. 

“Now,” Edaline says after the cameras have returned to their original places. “You’ve all shown amazing talent in the past few days. Frankly, all three of us were just blown away at some of the things you created. But one of you managed to wow us at every turn, showcasing your art as well as your baking skills. And that person is…”

Next to Biana, her brother stares at the ground. A few feet away, Dex is twisting his hands together, expression schooled into something just left of panic. Biana takes a deep breath.

“Maruca Chebota!”

The room is silent, and then everyone breaks into applause. Maruca is smiling wide, tears glittering at the corners of her eyes. 

“Thank you so much,” she manages before getting crushed into a giant group hug. 

Later, Biana stands in the front hall of the hotel with her suitcase by her side. She and Fitz are flying home tonight, and she can’t wait to get back to her own apartment. 

“It’ll be nice,” Sophie agrees. “I’m heading straight out to Michigan to see my aunt and uncle for Christmas.” 

Fitz appears in the doorway, talking animatedly with someone out of sight. Biana takes the opportunity to give Sophie one last kiss. 

“I’ll text you?” She asks. Sophie nods. 

Fitz strolls up, Dex by his side. They’ve finished their conversation, apparently, and are now just looking at each other. Biana coughs.

“We should get to the airport.” She reminds him. Fitz jumps.

“Right! Yes, of course. Um-” he glances back at Dex and then sweeps the shorter man into a hug. Dex’s eyes widen but he hugs back. 

“It was so nice to meet you,” Biana tells Dex when the two break apart. “Have a nice Christmas.” 

“You too,” Dex says, and then he and Sophie are gone. Biana elbows her brother. 

“Dexter Dizznee, huh?” She asks. Fitz glares at her. 

“Shut up.”

-/-

December 28, 2020.

Dizznee Family Household 

Detroit, Michigan.

Christmas is low-key. Or, it’s as low-key as Christmas with the Dizznees can be, anyway. Bex manages to get lights on the roof, Rex brings his partners to dinner and the three of them break into an impromptu performance of Deck The Halls, and Lex sets up an elaborate present-wrapping station in the living room that seems to involve heinous amounts of tape. 

Edaline disappears upstairs a few times to work out all the details of the show, but she has enough time to help Kesler baste a turkey and kick all of their collective asses at foosball alongside Juline. Grady makes chocolate-covered cherries and Amy eats too many of them and Sophie laughs herself to tears when her sister trips over an armchair in her post-chocolate haze. They smile and exchange terrible presents and sing carols and it’s all normal, as normal as anything gets these days.

So maybe they’re not low-key. Maybe it’s just Dex who’s low, Dex who still feels like something’s missing. 

He lost the competition. He’s not mad about it; losing by a few stray points isn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. And the publicity he’ll gain from just being on television is definitely worth it. 

None of that explains his mood, though, and Dex is starting to wonder what on earth he isn’t seeing. 

“Hey,” Sophie says, wandering into the den and flopping down on the couch alongside him. Dex has been absentmindedly fiddling with a Rubik's cube for the past ten minutes, and he only now realizes it’s solved. “What’s up?” 

“Hmm?”

“You’ve been mopey all day,” she says. “All week, actually. Which is weird, because you’re not normally mopey.” 

“You- noticed?”

Sophie gives him an affronted look. “I do pay attention.” 

“I’m not mopey,” Dex protests. 

“So staring into the distance and frowning is just a hobby?” Sophie sighs, plucking the Rubik’s cube out of his hands and scooting closer. “Look, I’m not trying to shame you. I just want to know what’s going on.”

Dex stares at her, then glances down at his hands. “I… who do you keep texting?”

The question catches Sophie off guard. “What?”

“You’ve been glancing down at your phone and smiling all through vacation,” he says. “Who are you texting?”

Sophie’s cheeks flush pink. “Um. Biana?”

“Oh.” Right. Biana Vacker. Dex had almost forgotten about her, in all the chaos of the last day of competition and then heading back home. Sophie didn’t, apparently. “That’s great. I’m happy for you.”

“You sound like a greeting card.”

“Fuck you, I’m trying.” 

Sophie rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Thanks, though. I really like her.” She tilts her head. “Now, back to your moping.”

“No.”

“Hmm.” Sophie says. She fixes him with a look that says I can see into your soul and there is some weird stuff in there. “Dex. What happened when you teamed up with Fitz Vacker in the last round of the contest?”

“Um.” Dex blinks. “We… made a gingerbread house?”

“And after that?” Sophie raises an eyebrow. “Dex, I know you. You’ve hated the Vackers possibly since you were born. How on Earth did you go from that to hugging Fitz when you said goodbye to him?”

“I-” 

There have been a lot of things recently, Dex reflects, that he’s been unable to explain, even to himself. Why he disliked the Vackers in the first place. Why he’s been empty the past few days. 

Why he and Fitz are sort of on decent terms now.

But things start to dig themselves out of his memory; an out-of-the-blue compliment about his pies, a night spent in a terrible hotel kitchen unable to sleep, a grin and a tiny peppermint swirl and fake sugar snow on a rooftop.

“Oh.” Dex’s eyes go wide. “Oh, shit.” 

“What?” Sophie asks. As if on cue, three strawberry-blond heads poke into the doorway. Dex groans. 

“Do you hear that?” Rex asks, shit-eating grin on his face. Lex nods seriously. 

“I believe it’s the sound of a local man realizing he’s been in love with Fitzroy Vacker this whole time.” 

Bex gestures towards Dex as if she’s holding a microphone. “Tell me, sir, how does it feel to come to such a conclusion? Do you think your behavior towards Mr. Vacker will change after this?”

“Please leave,” Dex says flatly. Sophie squints at him. 

“Wait, are you really-”

“I don’t know. Please make them leave.” 

Sophie looks from him to the triplets, who give her matching smiles. She shakes her head and stands up. 

“I don’t think I’m capable of doing that, honestly. I’m going to go text Bi.”

“Traitor!” Dex calls after her. The triplets flop down on the couch, garishly patterned Christmas sweaters clashing terribly with the blue cushions. Bex gives him an exaggerated I’m thinking look. 

“Hmm,” she says. “You know, maybe Amy was onto something with all her ‘enemies to lovers speedrun’ stuff.” 

“I’m leaving this family,” Dex mutters, shoving a pillow over his face. “I will go to Canada and buy a large house and never have to see any of you ever again.” 

Rex raises his eyebrows. “Wow, you’d leave your boyfriend behind like that?” 

“Nope! No, nope, not doing this.” Dex stands up and moves towards the door. Behind him, he hears at least one of his siblings fall off the couch. 

“Seriously, though. What are you going to do?”

Dex turns back around. Rex and Bex are sprawled on the floor in a tangle of feet, but Lex is looking at Dex with a strangely sympathetic expression. He sighs.

“I don’t know.”

There’s a buzz in his pocket and Dex pulls his phone out as his siblings start to untangle themselves.

Fos-Boss

hey. wanna go to nyc?

-/-

December 31, 2020.

Biana Vacker’s Self-Proclaimed Trash Can Fire

New York City, New York.

“You’re doing it again.”

Fitz leans his head over the back of the couch and frowns at her. “Doing what?”

“Your whole woe is me, time to stare aimlessly at the wall thing.” Biana waves a hand towards her brother. “Stop that and help me cut the baklava.”

“This is… a lot of baklava for just the two of us,” Fitz says. “Are you sure you didn’t decide to throw another giant stupid New Years party again?”

“I promise there will be no giant New Years party,” Biana says. “I’ve invited two people over. That’s it.”

“But you refuse to tell me who those people are, which automatically makes me suspicious.” 

As if on cue, the doorbell rings. Biana smiles at her brother and takes the knife from him. 

“Why don’t you go find out?”

Fitz sighs and moves out into the hallway. Biana hears him swing the door open, and then- nothing. 

She pushes the now-cut baklava onto a plate and leans her head out the doorway. Her brother is standing there, staring at a man with strawberry-blond hair. Sophie stands behind him, smiling awkwardly.

“Hello!” She says, directing the statement at Biana since her cousin is still locked in a staring contest with Fitz. “Happy New Year!”

“It’s not New Years yet,” Biana laughs, coming out of the doorway to grab Sophie’s coat and drop a quick kiss to her lips. “How was your drive?”

“Long,” Sophie says. “But I’ve had worse. And we had some decent pancakes, right?” 

“Right,” Dex murmurs, still staring at Fitz. He shakes his head. “Yeah, they were pretty good. Happy New Year, by the way.” 

“You too,” Fitz manages. Biana hides a laugh behind her sweater sleeve and grabs Dex’s arm. 

“Hey, you wanna come help me open the champagne?” 

“Sure, but-”

“We’ll be fine,” Fitz manages a bright grin. “I’m gonna show Sophie some of Bi’s elementary school pictures.”

“Fitzroy Avery Vacker, don’t you dare-”

Fitz laughs and Biana and Dex retreat back to the kitchen. Biana reaches for one of the bottles of champagne and turns towards the shorter man. 

“I’m not going to give you a shovel talk,” she shrugs, “mainly because I think you already know I could murder you if you hurt him.”

“Yep,” Dex nods. He looks down. “But you don’t have to worry about giving me a shovel talk. It’s not like we’re dating.” 

“No, you two have just been in love with each other for a ridiculously long amount of time.” The cork pops out of the champagne bottle and Sophie cheers from the other room. Biana grins at the stunned expression Dex is giving her. “Come on. Only an hour till midnight.”

They put the Times Square Ball Drop on at 11:30, watching as some band Biana vaguely recognizes but couldn’t name rocks out in front of the crowd. Sophie says that looks cold, and Biana says it’s always cold. That’s why I stay home, and Sophie snuggles a little closer to her. At the ten-minute mark, Dex and Fitz make some sort of telepathic agreement to go out and stand on the balcony. 

“Hey,” Biana mutters as the lights onscreen get brighter. The countdown should start soon. “I’m so glad I met you.”

Sophie turns her face, so close their noses almost brush. “Me too,” she smiles. “But I’m even happier I get to do this.”

A hurricane could probably pass through the apartment right now without Biana noticing. Sophie's lips are soft, and Biana knows this woman will stick with her no matter what. 

Numbers start to flash on the screen. Biana couldn’t care less about what they say. 

-/-

December 31, 2020.

Fitz Vacker’s Plant-Covered Balcony

New York City, New York.

“The apartment’s Biana’s, technically,” Fitz says as they step out into the cold night air. “But she never uses the balcony and I needed a place to put my plants, so it’s mine now.”

“And you’re certainly using the space,” Dex notes. He can spot at least five different kinds of flowers out here, and that’s just with his non-existent plant knowledge. 

Fitz laughs, loud and bright against the painted backdrop of the sky. There are only a few stars Dex can see, but the whole sky is a shade of midnight blue that makes up for the darkness. 

“I am, yeah.” He leans on the railing for a moment, staring down at the world below, before turning back a bit. “How was your Christmas?”

“Good,” Dex says. “How was your… Hanukkah?”

“It ended before the contest started, but yeah, it was good” Fitz glances down at the street again and Dex goes to stand next to him. Minutes tick by, the two of them just watching cars pass by.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Fitz says finally. The words are soft, barely more than whispers, and Dex thinks for a moment that he imagined them. Then Fitz looks up and meets his eyes. 

A cheer goes up from around the city, people everywhere shouting Ten! 

“I’m glad too,” Dex says. Carefully, oh-so-slowly, he reaches up and cups the other man’s cheek. Fitz’s eyes flutter closed for just a moment. 

Seven!

“The ball will drop soon,” he murmurs. “If you want to watch it.”

“I’m fine,” Dex smiles. “Unless- you want to?”

Five!

“Nah,” Fitz says, reaching up to touch Dex’s hand where it’s still on his face. “I think I can do without the spectacle for tonight.”

Three!

Dex nods, rocking forward just a little. 

Two!

Fitz’s eyes are bright, and his breath is warm where it ghosts across Dex’s skin. 

One!

They barely have to move in before their lips meet. 

-/-

January 1, 2021.

Somewhere Over New York City. 

Fireworks bloom into bursts of color against the dark sky. 

[remmushound]

Curse of the Clan, part 12! @scentedcandlecryptid @selfindulgenz

Content warning: Violence, blood!

“That was the first time I had ever seen a lion. I had heard stories about them, of course; but to see one in our province was a shock to me. The thought of lions had always sparked images of open savannah and hot deserts, not the chill of the northern lands. I know better now, of course, that creatures often pop up in the most unexpected of places. My curiosity was one that could not be ignored. That night when we stopped to rest, I just knew I had to see that grand sight once more.”

“Where are you going?” Kenichi asked in the dark of night when he noticed the ghostly outline of Usagi crawling out of the back of the cart.

Usagi froze like a deer caught in lamplight. He looked quickly to make sure their escorts were still sleeping before he held a finger to his lips to silence his companion. He motioned Kenichi to follow him as he crawled the rest of the way out of the cart and into the snow. Kenichi scrambled to his feet to follow, forsaking Usagi’s silent approach to instead jump down in a single bound, crunching the snow loudly under broad feet.

Usagi shushed him once more, waving his hands out in front of him to Kenichi’s annoyance. Usagi led him a longer distance away from the cart where they couldn’t be heard.

“What are we doing out here?” Kenichi asked, ears pressed against his head to avoid the howling winds.

“I’m gonna go see that lion.” Usagi said.

“Why?” Kenichi scrunched up his nose and stuck out his tongue. “He smelled weird.”

“I didn't even know there were lions in this province!” Usagi said, “And he looked like, suuuuuper old! Old people always have good wisdom!”

“But Usagi, it’s cold out here, and the older bucks told us to stay away from him.”

Usagi didn't care about Kenichi’s hesitance; his mind was already made up on the matter. “Stay here if you want, but I’m gonna be the best samurai I can be! Who best to learn from than a lion?”

“A rabbit, a fox, a weasel— dedicated turtle—“

“And lions!” Usagi said, “You don’t have to tell with me, just please don’t tell the senior bucks about it! I’ll be back before morning.”

“I’m not letting you go alone!” Kenichi grabbed Usagi’s hand and gave a devilish smile.

“So we went together into the heart of the lion’s den, so to speak. We hadn’t gone far from our initial meeting place, and we were able to follow his scent right back to his home. We told him why we had come, and he greeted us with the utmost warmth and hospitality.”

The lion slammed the door shut, locking them outside in the cold and making both kits jump back in a fright at the sudden, deafening noise. They both stared at the door for a long moment, then looked at each other in the same, timed motion.

“That was unexpected.” Usagi gawked.

“And we waited. We figured he would open the door eventually and not just let us freeze. We knew we were going to miss our window of opportunity to return to the wagon, but we didn't care. We were too dedicated, too stubborn. Too young. We sat out there waiting all night. When he did finally open the door to find us still sitting there, he tugged us by our ears all the way back to the senior bucks.

“They were furious with us, and Kenichi by extension was furious with me. When we reached the Dogra School, our punishment was given. For weeks we were stuck on cleaning duty, but by the end of the first month I already had a sword in my hand. I studied at the school of Dogra for three years before I saw that lion again.”

The small patrol stopped when they smelled the lion on the breeze. Kenichi and Usagi exchanged looks, the scent forever etched into their minds even if they hadn’t seen the lion ronin since that night they snuck out together to find him. The other kits their age were immediately unsettled by the scent, fur ruffling and ears falling back, but the older ones of the patrol, made up mostly of rabbits well into their teens and on the path to graduation, seemed almost excited by the intruder.

“Should we go get the headmaster and his guard?” Whispered one of the younger rabbits.

“We can handle this.” Said an older rabbit of black and white; his name was Youdai. He pulled forth his katana and shoved his way through the tall grass, the rest of the patrol having no choice but to follow. The bold young rabbit pointed his katana in the direction of the lion when they came to open land and witness the predator. “Katsuichi.”

The lion didn't respond to his name. He stood up a little straighter, holding a small goat under one of his arms and a little straw hat on his head to keep the sun out of his eyes. He looked just as big and powerful as he had that first day Usagi had met him, the scars and muscles chiseled on his body telling a story of a lifetime of battles won. The gray in his mane, however, told of a warrior in the sunset years of his life. The year's best spent in relaxation and peace.

“This is the last time you step foot on our grounds.” Youdai declared.

“I apologize. My goat got out of her pen and I had to retrieve her.” Katsuichi said.

“I’m tired of your excuses! If you really want to apologize, then give us the goat.”

Katsuichi didn't flinch at the threat. “I need her for milk.”

“Who says we don’t need milk more, hm?” The rabbit laughed, “It’s the least you can do for us!” He stepped forward reaching for the goat.

Katsuichi dropped the goat and grabbed his longsword. The minute his hand touched the sword's hilt, all the rabbits present drew their blades. All except for Usagi. Usagi’s eyes glanced over to Youdai and the other rabbits, widening at the sight of the blades drawn and aimed toward the old lion. Usagi didn't know what guided his feet, but before he knew it he was standing between Youdai and the lion with his arms outstretched.

“He didn't do anything!”

Youdai’s dark eyes widened at the gall of the younger white rabbit, flashing with hate for just moment before it was replaced with a cold malice. He lunged forward and grabbed Usagi by the scruff of his neck as the kit tried to run, yanking him away from the lion and holding Usagi tight against his chest.

“You know what?!” Youdai shouted over the astonished cries of his peers and the struggling of Usagi, “I have an idea that is even funner!”

“Let him go, Youdai!” Kenichi cried.

Youdai held Usagi tightly around the throat until the kit stopped struggling, his nose twitching his fear as tears stained his cheeks. Once he was certain that Usagi would stay still, Yodai pulled out a tiny mulberry from his lunchbox and perched it on top of Usagi’s nose.

“If you can cut this mulberry in half without cutting Usagi, then you can keep the goat.”

The rest of the rabbits huddled together, whispering and shaking their heads at the sight as terror filled them just as it filled Usagi.

“But if you cut his pretty little face, even just a little, then we get the goat. Do you accept the challenge?”

The lion gave a low rumble in his throat, looking between Youdai and the fear-frozen Usagi. He licked his lips, his nose flaring, and raised the point of his sword to Usagi. Usagi gave a whimper and closed his eyes, expecting the cutting pain any moment, but it never came. He opened his eyes to find the lion returning his longsword to its sheath and pushing the goat in Youdai’s direction without comment. Youdai laughed as he grabbed the goat by the bell collar around her neck and yanked her into his arms.

“I expect you off of our land before sundown.” With a twitch of his ear, Youdai signaled for the other rabbits to follow. They all fell into place behind him to return to the tall grass.

Usagi didn't move. Fear still froze him to the spot, ears flat and mouth hanging open. Kenichi turned to face him.

“Usagi, come on.”

Youdai turned at the call, his ears pricking and then flattening as he flashed pointed teeth. “What are you doing?”

This wasn’t right. They threatened this old man, stole his goat, when he did nothing wrong! He looked over at Youdai and couldn’t help but imagine if the buck had been in his position once, on the bad side of a cruel, older buck for daring to voice his opinion. The thought of himself growing up to be that cruel and selfishly motivated left a bitter taste in Usagi’s mouth.

“Usagi, if you aren’t here within the next five seconds, you’ll be labeled a deserter.” Youdai decided and he immediately started to count, loud and slow.

“Usagi, it’s not worth it!” Kenichi tried to urge his friend, “What will your dad think?”

Usagi didn't move nor break his silence.

“Usagi please…”

Usagi closed his eyes and lowered his head as Youdai counted down to five. At first, Youdai seemed frozen, as if he hadn’t expected Usagi to truly disobey him. Then astonishment turned to rage.

“You have until nightfall to be out of my sights, Usagi, and never return.”

Youdai disappeared into the tall grass, taking all the other rabbits and Kenichi with him. When the sound of their retreat had faded, only then did Katsuichi speak up.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“But I did.” Usagi said.

“Why?”

Why. That question was so frustratingly simple that it made Usagi want to pull his hair out.

“What they were doing wasn't right.” Usagi said. “I believe my father would want me to do better.”

Katsuichi nodded, turning his back to Usagi and starting to walk away. Usagi felt his heart drop into his stomach and flutter, until the lion cast a look back at him.

“You better start walking if you want to reach my den by sundown. I’m guessing you still know where it is…”

“You recognize me?” Usagi asked, bounding forward ro follow him.

“Ain’t ever seen another rabbit with ears like yours.” The lion chuffed. “And I’ve seen a lot of rabbits.”

Usagi stopped for a moment as he tried to process wether it was an insult or a compliment. Then he continued to hop after the lion ronin.

“The challenge was rigged, if that makes you feel any better about losing the goat.” Usagi commented.

“Rigged? How so?” Katsuichi chuffed.

“I mean, there’s no way anyone could cut a mulberry in half, especially not without—“

Usagi didn't realize what had happened until several seconds after the fact. Katsuichi had turned to face him, sword more like a whip than a blade. The slash of air, the flinch when Usagi registered something coming at his face. And then opening his eyes just in time to see the mulberry still on his nose now fall off in halves off of either side of his muzzle.

“After that, he started to teach me. The first thing he did was take away my blade. The second thing he did was send me down to the river two miles out from his home every day for a year to gather three pails of water and bring them back to him. Never once in that year did my hand touch the hilt of a blade, and never once did I complain. Not for a whole year. But then that year slowly started to turn into two, and the patient obedience of a child began to wane until, at last, I asked him for a blade. He said no. That next morning, he gave me my first proper lesson.”

Usagi caught a scent on the breeze that stopped him in his tracks. His ears became erect, his nose lifted to the wind to smell the scents it had to offer him. The scent of a hunter— the scent of his sensei! He knew his sensei was there! In the most obvious place too! Behind a tree, the only tree for on a long stretch of empty land. Could this finally be a lesson? His first proper lesson? He had taken lessons at the Dogra school from day one! This one would have to be a good one if it took an entire year to prepare. Usagi put his buckets of water down on the ground and waited. For an hour he waited, and then another.

Halfway into the second hour, still nothing had happened, and Usagi was starting to get concerned. Why would he just be sitting there for that long without moving? Was he hurt? Was he even there? Now that he was smelling the wind again, he started to guess that maybe he hadn’t smelled his sensei there to begin with. This was Katsuichi’s territory, so of course his scent to be everywhere. And here Usagi was, making a fool of himself waiting for something to happen when his master wasn’t even there!

He picked up the water again and went to pass by the tree. The moment he did so, a powerful body slammed into him. The water went flying and Usagi was slammed to the ground by the weight of someone much larger than him. Claws slashed one of his ears and released a steady trickle of blood from the sensitive, torn skin.

Katsuichi was furious. Froth was spilling out from over his mouth, his eyes constricted to pin pricks and his lips pulled back in a snarl. “You knew I was there!” He slammed his claws down beside Usagi’s head, digging into the earth in a display that he could have done far worse. “You knew I was there and you still walked past the tree! If you’re dumb enough to do that, what makes you think you’re ready for a sword?!”

“Try as I might, I didn't have an answer. That was the first scar I got.” Usagi raised his hand to touch his torn ear. “I spent the next few months trying to make up for my mistake. I learned from it. He still didn't let me touch a sword until five years into our partnership, and only after fifteen did he dare present me with a sword of my own and a dilemma of which path I would choose to guide the rest of my days. He had taught me all he could teach me and I had to choose my own way now. I chose the path of the Musha Shugyo. A wanderer honing my skills and going as fate guides my paws.”

“How did fate guide you to Nuriyuki?” Leonardo asked. He hadn’t realized how far forward he was leaning, nearly falling off of his rock due to the story drawing him in so deeply. Usagi opened his mouth to respond, but it was Nuriyuki who spoke next.

“Oo! Oo! Oo! Can I tell him?”

Usagi nodded to Leonardo seeking approval. Leonardo smiled and nodded. “Of course, little man.”

Nuriyuki gave an excited squeal and finished off his lizard before starting his part of the story.

The tiny badger cub skipped happily along, holding his mothers hand as she so tenderly guided him down the halls of their palace. The guidance led him into the main hall where his father was joined with several guards.

“Daddy!” With arms outstretched, Nuriyuki ran into his fathers arms and was immediately scooped up by the bigger, heartier badger that gave a loud chuffle as he tickled his nose against his sons cheek.

“Nuriyuki, I would like you to meet Usagi.” Damiyo Tanuki bore his tiny son over to the rabbit who stood tall and proud in royal garments. “He will be your new sword fighting tutor.

“Er… how did the next part go again, Usagi?” Nuriyuki looked to Usagi for guidance.

“The daimyo had taken notice of my skill as I traveled across Japan. My father had been the one to train him, and he could think of no one better to train his own son. He sent a palanquin to bring me to the palace, and paid me handsomely for my services.”

“Oh! Oh oh oh! I remember the next part!” Nuriyuki declared. “I woke up in my room because it smelled all yucky, and there was smoke everywhere! I couldn’t find my mommy and daddy, and there were monsters roaming the halls!”

“Yama-inu. They’re—“ Usagi started.

“Wolf yokai.” Leonardo sucked in a breath. “I’ve been reading up on Yokai.”

Usagi bowed his head and closed his eyes. Nuriyuki went on with the story.

“Then Usagi found me! He carried me out the window and into the snow!”

“We stole a cart.” Usagi said, “And we’ve been moving ever since.”

“Where are you going?”

“We’re trying to reach the home of my master. If you… still want to stick with us, then maybe he can be the one to give you the blessing you need to save your clan. He fits your description. He is a ronin’s ronin.”

“How far is the journey?”

Usagi licked his lips. “Far. Two hundred hours as the crow flies.”

“How many hours as the turtle and rabbit and badger walk?”

Usagi gave a soft smile and shook his head, sucking a breath in through his nose. “It would go by a lot quicker if I had someone to take shifts with the cart.”

Leonardo grinned widely, leaning forward to extend his hand out to Usagi. “Then let’s head out.”

[the-starless-sky]

A Day Off of Loitering and Investigation

A translation of the first chapter of Jujutsu Kaisen’s first light novel “Departing Summer and Returning Autumn” by Akutami Gege and Kitakuni Balad.

A Day Off of Loitering and Investigation

If we are talking about the few “definite things” in this modern day and age, there are only three at best.

That Mito Koumon[1] will win.

That Sazae-san[2] will air on Sunday.

And lastly, that Kugisaki Nobara’s shopping will drag on for a long time.

Because of that, when Kugisaki said, “I want to go see Ame-yoko[3],” Fushiguro had prepared himself for the outing that will surely take a long time. It would probably take around same time as when Gojou suddenly shows up on a Sunday morning and suddenly said, “Megumi, let’s go to Parque Espana[4],”.

What’s out of his prediction was that Itadori wasn’t too keen on going.

He had thought that a television-person like Itadori would show interest in famous spots like Ame-yoko, but he said:

“No, I have some place else I want to go.”

“Oh, that so. Then let’s meet up after.”

And then they all readily move on their own afterwards.

For Fushiguro who had accepted the natural fact that he would get stuck in the middle of Itadori and Kugisaki’s noisiness, it was as surprising as the fact that corbel pieces actually don’t contain that much iron.

Of course, Fushiguro also thought to make use of the situation and move alone.

He’d go home quickly - after all, he wanted to read the continuation of the book he’d bought the other day, and he also wanted to arrange his table’s drawer and his closet.

Even so, Fushiguro is a fundamentally earnest person.

A concern like: “is it alright to let Itadori, Sukuna’s host be?” kept crossing his mind no matter what.

When we’re talking about the area around Ueno and Okachimachi[5], it is a town filled with life and history.

In the hustle-bustle from the post-war market town that continued until modern day, strange ghost stories run rampant and there lies a possibility that not yet active curses are concealing themselves somewhere.

Moreover, it’s Itadori, a person whom if you let go from your sight will suddenly buy a shitty sunglasses, and who had said Tachikawa’s[6] “essentially Shinjuku”.

If Itadori, by chance, got lost and strayed until Chiyoda Ward[7], he’d just think of it as a lucky spot, and take Instagram-able photos in Masakadozuka[8].

That’s the reason why Fushiguro chose to move with Itadori, but... truth to be told, he’s very much regretting it.

“So like, Fushiguro, if you don’t have any interest in Akiba[9], why are you even coming after me?”

“Shut up, don’t think about it.”

“’Kay. I really want to go through all of Akiba at once, y’know.”

“Do you have anything you want to buy? There’s probably nothing but manga, games, and electronics there.”

“Eh, sight-seeing. Shibuya or Shinjuku is also okay, but the Akiba I saw on TV has this otherworldly feeling to it... or, more like, it gave off a theme-park kinda feel?”

“Is it?”

If you live within the metropolitan area, you probably wont feel it, but in truth Akihabara is a strange city.

The atmosphere outside the station is particularly unique. It’s filled with anime culture to the brim as a matter of course, but in any case the amount of information from the advertisements are nasty.

The overflowing signboards with smiling game characters gave the town a theme park-y impression.

If you were to give another example, then it’s the cosplayers that sometimes mix in with the tight crowd. Maids devoting themselves to attracting customers and handing out flyers. And when you think a rare foreign car is going through the streets, for some reason a giant robot’s large scale model is being transported by a truck.

Is it possible to suppress Itadori’s curiosity in such a town? Impossible.

“Darn, Fushiguro. The game centers are lining up like convenient stores.”

“That’s ‘cause it’s Akiba.”

“Darn, Fushiguro. The maid-sans kept coming enthusiastically.”

“That’s ‘cause it’s Akiba.”

“Whoa! Fushiguro! Is that an ecchi game? Isn’t that a billboard for an ecchi game? Uwaah, is it okay, that kind of huge billboard... Oh no, I’m still a minor, will I get scolded?”

“Shut up!”

It’s a fundamentally noisy city, but for Fushiguro, Itadori’s three times noisier.

There’s still a few hours until the meet up with Kugisaki.

If he thought about that, Fushiguro’s head ached. Unknowing of Fushiguro’s feelings, Itadori was nonchalant, without a care in the world.

“I’m glad Fushiguro’s with me. This area’s so messy I’d get lost.

”It’s better than Shinjuku.”

“Don’t force that Tokyo-sense on me. Vending machines where you can use electronic money on every door, Pepper-kun[10] in front of shops, a city on this level’s only Tokyo, you know?”

“No, there really aren’t that much Pepper-kun.”

“In Sendai, you can only see it in ‘Man-made Onsen, Toposu’[11], you know.”

“Don’t pull out local shop names like it’s natural. Where the hell’s that?”

“In super sentou[12].”

“Pepper-kun being in super sentou feels more culturally advanced, ain’t it.”

“Well, well, well, anyways, rather than alone, being together with someone who’s knowledgeable about the area’s definitely more reassuring. I’m still not good with subways even now, after all.”

“There shouldn’t be anyone getting lost around the Yamanote-sen[13].”

“Aah, there it is, the Tokyoite-sense. Naturally coming out like that.”

“In reality, you don’t get lost that much anyways, do you. ‘Cause you went here and there day after day.”

“Ah, Fushiguro. Let’s eat kebab, kebab.”

“Continue the conversation, damn it.”

Fushiguro had felt that Itadori and Gojou’s rhythm are quite similar, but now that he’s by himself talking with only Itadori, that feeling only grew stronger.

After all, conversational catch-ball with Itadori is, at most, on the level of dodge ball. For Gojou, it’s more on the level of hitting-only golf, or a batting center[14].

Come to think of it, today he hasn’t seen Gojou in the dorms nor school. It’s up to him where he wanted to be during his day-off, but now that Fushiguro thought about it, Gojou really is a mystery.

As he thought such things, he let Itadori’s words in through his right ear and out through his left, going into his “gloss over” mode.

After all, it’s on almost the same frequency as the city’s noise, so if he’d just turn off his awareness he could just process it as part of the background, environment noise.

If he were to respond one by one, he’d just get tired. Nobody would tell him off even if he put his brain in energy-conserving mode, anyways.

By the way, speaking from the results, this action of his would end up making his anxiety worsen.

“...Ha?”

When he came to, Itadori was gone.

Fushiguro hurriedly turned his head, and he barely saw someone with red highlight on their hair going into the depths of a game center.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Playing a game. Ah, are you talking about the title?”

“No way in hell, you special grade idiot.”

After climbing to the fourth floor of the thin and vertically long building of the game center, Fushiguro finally found Itadori.

In the fighting game corner, going in deeper. Away from the areas where people who seemed super serious about gaming gathers, in the retro game corner where one credit to play starts from 50 yen, there he was, that Itadori.

Moreover, he’s sitting in front of an especially boring looking game machine.

As he pouted, he explained how he got there to Fushiguro.

“I mean, you know, it’s not realistic wasting hours of time just walking around outside, right. There are a lot of game centers, so I thought, why not.”

“At least say something before steering away to the side.”

“I did.”

“...”

As Fushiguro’s the one who had glossed over Itadori’s conversations, while feeling a little bit awkward he changed the subject.

“By the way, what’s this game?”

“No matter how you see it, it’s ‘Battle Corporation Warrior, Business Fighter’ isn’t it.”

“I won’t know it’s ‘Battle Corporation Warrior, Business Fighter’ no matter how I see it.”

“It’s also my first time seeing it so I’m not really sure, too.”

The game Itadori chose looked extraordinarily boring it’s miraculous.

It seemed like a fighting game, but the characters are mostly old men who looked like company employees, and everyone uses business suits properly that it’s hard to differentiate who’s who.

Even if it only costs 50 yen, Itadori’s resolution to spend money on this game is an amazing thing. Well, if he’s like this then guess he would eat Sukuna’s fingers, imprudently Fushiguro thought.

Without caring about such Fushiguro, Itadori seem to be running as usual.

He’s even looking for a competition.

“On the contrary, I’ll just ask you: you’re not going to play, Fushiguro? It’s a fighting game machine.”

“I don’t want to pay money for that kind of game.”

Even so, a fighting game machine is supposed to be played by fighting another person.

Moreover, to play an already-boring looking game like this alone just feels empty. No matter how much Fushiguro didn’t want to play, Itadori wanted to at least fight with him.

“What the heck, you’re running away? By the way, don’t tell me you’re actually bad at games, Fushiguro? You don’t have any confidence that you could win against me?”

“It’s not confidence I don’t have, it’s the will to play.”

“If you run away here it’d be treated as a loss by default, you know! Are you okay with that!?”

“Do what you like.”

“No, really, please! Then I’ll even pay for your share!”

“Are you serious? ...Sheesh.”

Losing to Itadori’s persistence, who’d even start to talk about paying - or, actually, Fushiguro just don’t want to see Itadori begging like that, so in the end he put in his own money and sat in front of the machine directly opposite to Itadori’s.

No matter what, a fighting game’s of course funner to play with two people.

As he felt deeply grateful for Fushiguro who’d finally relented, Itadori cheerfully started choosing his character.

“Then, I’ll go with ‘Company President Yamada’.”

“...Then I’ll go for ‘Chief Clerk Oosaki’.”

“What, youre going with him, the initial cursor character? Well, I guess he’d be easy to use, so it should fit a beginner like Fushiguro.”

“Didn’t you just say you’ve only seen this game for the first time?”

“Actually, before you got here, I managed to get to the third stage of the arcade mode.”

Anyways, finally the battle starts between the two of them.

“Eat this! The sure-win tactics I devised in fifteen minutes!”

“That’s a hell of a short training.”

Immediately after the battle starts, Itadori used the easy command, ‘Business Card Shuriken’ repeatedly.

The Chief Clerk Oosaki that Fushiguro controlled jumped up to dodge Yamada’s shurikens that comes in an equal intervals, surely approaching the latter. When one thought he’d turn to a strong kick after jumping in, he actually threw Yamada and forced him to the side, as he viciously beat the latter.

“Eh? Huh? Wait, wait, Fushiguro. Isn’t that a a command technique? That’s a command technique, right!?”

“...”

Small punch, small punch, medium kick, medium kick, and to top it off Fushiguro used the ‘overtime gauge’ he managed to fill with the hits, triggering a super special lethal move, ‘Overtime Rage Fist’.

Fushiguro scored a brilliant victory.

“What the hell!? ...Eh, Fushiguro, how could you use special moves? You’re good at this game?”

“No, the command chart is there above the screen.”

“So you’re cheating!”

“You’re actually not that good at games, aren’t you?”

“No, even I could win if I used commands! One more, one more!”

“The heck, this idiot actually put in multiple coins…”

Itadori who had battled it out with Fushiguro for around an hour, still lost in the end.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈« 

They both go down until the first floor’s UFO Catcher corner and bought a cola from the vending machine, engulfed by a sense of emptiness.

The feeling of aftershock left after the heat and enthusiasm cools down look very visible on their faces.

“Aah... why did I even spend 1000 yen on that shitty game...”

Fushiguro looked at Itadori, who’s currently hanging his head, with eyes that look like they’re looking at an idiot.

“If you’re satisfied already, we’re going out. You can kill time in game centers, but they eat your money.”

“That’s true... ah!”

“What? Just because you found another shitty game, I’m not going to play with you anymore.”

“No, that’s not it, Fushiguro, look, look at that!”

Fushiguro reluctantly looked at the direction Itadori pointed with narrowed eyes.

And then, his eyes widened in surprise.

“...Gojou-sensei?”

“Right?”

Truly, on the other end of the two’s sight is Gojou Satoru.

Rather, the only person who would walk inside a dim-lighted game center wearing an all-black clothes with a black blindfold can’t be anyone other than Gojou Satoru - it’s hard to think of anyone else.

“Eh... wait, Fushiguro, what’s Gojou-sensei doing?”

“Isn’t that an UFO Catcher? The ones where you could get snacks from.”

“Why? Is there a person who wanted to eat snacks so much they’d go to a game center alone and play an UFO Catcher by themselves?”

“Don’t ask me, how the hell should I know?”

“Ah, and he’s even giving up!”

“That’s fast.”

As Gojou pouted in discontent, he walked towards the game center exit with swaying steps.

Well, it was a hard to understand action, but perhaps it’s normal coming from a hard to understand person. Fushiguro decided to stop thinking too deeply.

But Itadori just couldn’t do the same.

“Okay, let’s follow him.”

“How’d it come to that?”

Itadori started to follow Gojou who had exited the game center. Fushiguro immediately drank his leftover cola, threw it in the trash can, and followed afterwards.

“I mean, don’t he look like he’s on his off mode? I feel like I don’t know what he’s up to when he’s in holidays or when he’s free.”

“And?”

“Of course we’re going to tail him.”

“Don’t say that so naturally.”

“I mean, in reality, don’t you feel curious, too? Surprisingly I feel like I don’t know Gojou-sensei that well. Of course, if you don’t feel like coming then you can just wait.”

“...”

In any case, despite all the conflicts the two had, they finally decided to tail Gojou together.

Gojou is a dependable teacher and a shaman they respected, for sure.

However, from the eyes of Gojou’s students, his frivolous personality, busyness, appearing in unexpected places at unexpected time, personal history, thoughts, and range of behavior, all point out to him being a man full of mystery. The figure of him nonchalantly walking around town was something you don’t see everyday.

In sum, Fushiguro decided to follow his curiosity.

He’s probably also very mentally exhausted from playing a shitty game with Itadori.

In any case, the two of them started to search for the figure of Gojou they had lost sight of.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈« 

Gojou was, surprisingly, easily found.

“Fushiguro, isn’t that Gojou-sensei?”

“...You’re right.”

The next thing they sighted was Gojou, walking around as he ate crepes.

Looking from the package, it’s from the rather famous crepe shop looking out the main street.

It’s one of those extra ones with cream, tiramisu, macaron, and even chocolate spray.

There it was, the figure of a 190 cm adult walking around as he ate crepes that look like the dreams of all children.

“That’s amazing, Fushiguro. It’s not something you can just do when you feel like doing it.”

“No, you won’t even think of doing it in the first place.”

“Is it some kind of a sorcery training?”

“If you can get stronger by doing that, everyone’s gonna just do it.”

As they keep a steady distance, the two of them tailed the adult chewing on crepes.

Even in the city full of wonders, Akihabara, the sight still look quite out of place.

After he finished eating the crepes, Gojou stopped still in front of a rather old looking store.

“...Vacuum tube specialty store.”

Fushiguro looked at the sign Itadori read with a dubious expression.

After thinking for a while, Gojou stepped into the jumbled-up looking shop.

“He went into a really maniac shop, didn’t he.”

A dubious-looking Fushiguro. On the other hand, Itadori tilted his head to the side in confusion.

“By the way, what is a vacuum tube? I’ve heard that name before, though.”

“It’s an electronic component. The ones you use in old radio or audio player.”

“Is Gojou-sensei an audio maniac?”

“No, he looked like someone who’d just use YouTube to listen to music, don’t he.”

“Aah, yeah, he does have that kind of image.”

As they spoke to each other, Gojou came out of the shore with a paper bag. It seems like he’d bought something.

“Oh no, we’re going to lose him!”

Itadori went after Gojou who had turned into an alley, and Fushiguro followed suit.

They were a little late and lost him for a while, but one minute hadn’t passed and they’ve already found the tall man clad in black in the middle of the crowd.

“There he is, Fushiguro. As expected, Gojou-sensei stand out a lot. He’s huge, after all.”

“He’s around 2 meters, after all.”

“He look like he’s really strong at basketball, don’t he?”

“I can’t imagine him playing basketball at all, though.”

“Relatable.”

As the two came into an agreement, they followed after Gojou’s steps.

Tailing someone while keeping a steady distance in Akihabara’s complicated streets is quite a hard labor.

Because he’s tall, Gojou’s steps are wide and he walks fast, it feels like you’re going to lose him when he drift into the crowd.

Next, Gojou went to a second hand audio shop and rummaged through the paper-jacketed analog recordings.

“Earlier you said some things, but don’t you think he’s actually an audio mania, Fushiguro?”

“No, I’m sure he’s not.”

“But he’s looking at Bach’s recordings!”

“Does he look like he has any interest in classical music? That person?”

“No, he look like he’d listen to alternative rock.”

“See? It’s definitely weird.”

For a while, Gojou rummaged through the recordings exhibited on a wagon, and after buying an old movie’s BGM collection long play record, he left the store.

As they tailed him, Fushiguro became more and more suspicious.

Fushiguro thought that perhaps it’s just them that had different images of Gojou and he’s actually a person with vintage hobbies in his private life, but soon he rethought and ended up with: “Nah, no way.”

After walking a bit unsteadily for a while, Gojou stopped in front of a store with a yellow signboard.

“Fushiguro, what’s that shop?”

“...Capsule toy. It’s the so-called gachapon[15] specialty store.”

“What? A gachapon specialty store? They exists?”

“They exist, that’s why it’s Akiba.”

“That so? Ah, sensei’s pulling a gacha.”

“I really don’t want to see the sight of a teacher I know rolling a 500 yen gacha. ...What kinda gacha is that?”

“Mushroom keychains, right? The real ones.”

“If he’s going to spend 500 yen anyway, couldn’t he just go to a supermarket and buy one?”

“You really don’t understand, huh, Fushiguro. It’s good because you can’t be sure of what you’ll get.”

“I don’t want to understand that in my life time.”

“Ah, sensei’s opening the capsule, I wonder what he got?”

“Looking at the lineup, isn’t it a poisonous mushroom? He looks really frustrated, after all.”

“Buhahahahaha, I guess you can’t eat that!!”

“No, you can’t eat mushrooms that come out of a capsule toy no matter what it is.”

Gojou unwillingly put the keychain in his pocket, and continued to loiter around.

When you thought he went to a computer store just to hold a mouse, he moved into an electronic store and tried on an electronic massager on his shoulder.

And when you thought he’d vanished, he’s suddenly inside a book store, free-reading a manga, and moved into a sideway to look at old games on wagon sale. He moved around according to his interests, wherever he wanted to go.

“...It doesn’t look like he has a specific purpose in mind.”

“Seems so.”

Itadori, now suddenly wearing a strength-measuring goggles toy, replied to Fushiguro’s muttering.

“Where the hell did you buy that?”

“In some second hand shop. I thought Gojou-sensei would be interested since he reads manga, too.”

“You’re really light on your wallet, aren’t you.”

“A man is a creature that uses their money when they think it’s the right time.”

“Was that shitty game earlier also ‘the right time’?”

“Ah, Gojou-sensei went inside a building. No, that’s wrong, I meant his ‘energy’ went inside the building!”

“You don’t have to correct yourself.”

“Oh no, we’re going to lose him. We’re following him, Fushiguro!”

“No, wait.”

“Gueh!”

As Itadori was about to step into the building, Fushiguro pulled his parka’s hood to stop him. It’s a very dangerous act, so don’t imitate him.

“You wanna kill me or something!? What’s wrong, we’re already this far in and you want to stop tailing him halfway?”

“You... don’t you see the building’s signboard?”

“Eh? ...... Eh!?”

Itadori looked up as he was told.

Reading the signboard written in a pop font, his expression turned into that of a flustered one.

――Angel Maid Cafe, “SHOW WARU☆Cupid”[16]

The rather maniac cafe located in the second floor of the building.

No, it’s not like it’s an indecent store or something. It’s an ordinary cafe with maids serving the customers, that’s all.

Even so, for normal people, it’s the kind of shop that needs a lot of courage to go in to. It’s even worse for boys in their puberty.

 “...... As expected this place’s a bit... no, even for Gojou-sensei’s level, this kind of place is really surprising.”

“Hey, his aim is probably this.”

The thing Fushiguro pointed towards was a poster on the wall. It advertised something like: “Authentic French technique! Exquisite pancakes that makes even patissiers groan!”

Indeed, that could be it, Itadori also nodded in agreement.

“This is definitely his aim, for sure. How much sweets is he planning to eat, anyways?”

“When he’s busy, Gojou-sensei tend to eat more sweets like these, after all...”

“Alright, now that the mystery’s solved, let’s stop tailing him. I mean, it’s embarrassing having to go in to a place like this.”

“That’s a clever decision for you.”

“――Welcome, Masters!”

“Eh?”

“Eh?”

A cheerful voice filled with business enthusiasm jumped out from behind them.

It was a veteran maid who had thought of them as - and admittedly they do look the part - ‘customers who are hesitating whether or not to come in to the cafe’ called them out, looking to make them the cafe’s source of income.

That’s right. Neither Itadori’s genius physical senses nor Fushiguro’s polished curse presence-sensing abilities could catch on the maid’s presence.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«

‘Did I do something bad in my past life?’, Fushiguro thought.

While looking on in blank surprise, he was pulled into the maid cafe together with Itadori.

As they were brought in, they were made to wear angel wings and halo made of plastic and wire, said to ‘let them feel heaven when they’re here’. Both his outside appearance and his mental condition is dead.

On the other hand... 

“For first-time customers, we recommend the Precious Set - Mellow-mellow A~” [17]

“Eh... I see. Well, I guess for the first time it’s better to just leave it up to the staff. We’ll get two of the Precious Sets. With extra melancholy.”

“Understood, Mastereincarnation☆”[18]

“Eh, what’s with that cool sounding word. Is it German?”

“It’s English☆”

“So it’s English!”

Just like that, Itadori’s already talking normally with the maid.

Naturally cheerful people... or, more like, those with party-people tendencies, and people with positive, bright vibes usually do well in places like this.

On the other hand, earnest-by-nature people like Fushiguro have the most difficulty in situations like this.

Fushiguro could feel his heart dying by the second just by looking at the fact that he’s currently sitting across Itadori, wearing a pair of angel wings and halo.

“And hey, Fushiguro, it’s about the crucial thing, but...”

“What?”

“As expected, seems like sensei’s aim was the pancake.”

“......... Yeah...”

The most important part of this investigation, Gojou, had especially sat down on the seat by the window where you can only see the neighboring building, and has since started his tea time, eating the pancake in grace.

He wore the angel cosplay very naturally as if it was his uniform, yet the way he sipped his cappuccino look like he was from a hard-boiled novel. The way he made himself ‘at home’ was in a different dimension when compared to first-time customers like Itadori and Fushiguro.

On the other hand, even taking into account the fact that Fushiguro is still a beginner, he’s almost on his limit. If he could, he’d leave this place even a second faster.

“Oi. Now that we know Gojou-sensei’s true aim, if you’re satisfied then let’s get out of here.”

“Eeh, but I ordered already.”

“Just pay for it and get out.”

“But it’s not good if the food we ordered go to waste, right?”

“...Well, that’s true, but...”

Fushiguro wanted to leave the cafe even if it meant paying for nothing, but he’s a kind person in nature, so when he’s told something like that, he just couldn’t complain.

On the other hand, his eyes that look like the deepest gulf peeking into the night, started to look duller and duller. Once again, Fushiguro attempted to turn off his awareness.

Numbness is a safety device for the living. He must protect his heart at all costs - or else, it wouldn’t be strange for a curse to be born.

It was a stark contrast to Itadori, who, despite being restless, look like he’s excited to try out an attraction in a theme park.

However, the maid cafe’s true baptism starts from here.

“Here’s Precious Set - Mellow-mellow A~”

The true form of Precious Set that one couldn’t ever guess from the menu at all is actually an ordinary looking omurice[19].

On top of the plate was a panda drawn with ketchup - and, it’s most probably a coincidence, but it look like Panda-senpai so much that Fushiguro’s heart ached.

On the empty spaces in the plate was written words like ‘Precious...! Makes me feel frazzled...!’, but the only one actually frazzled here is Fushiguro.

On the other hand, Itadori’s already completely adapted to the situation.

“Well then, I’m going to ask for Masters to add on even more melancholy on the dish~”

“What should I do to add on the melancholy?”

“Please tell me one precious, melancholic, and emotionally moving scene from your favorite anime! If you can make me feel melancholic without telling me the title, you pass~”

“Eeh. Dang, it’s kinda hard to choose. ...Ah, then that one where the main character is a boy who really admires heroes.”

“Me too, I watch that, too. It’s one of my favorites~”

“There’s this character with an inferiority complex towards his father... and then there’s the scene where he remembered that he wanted to become a hero, and he finally used the ‘left hand’ that he never used. I like that one.”

“Ah~ That’s a definitive episode, that one. But the scene choice is too cliche, so try another one!”

“Ah, then another anime. The main character lives in the ninja village. At first he got ostracized by his friends, but then he grew up and there’s this scene where he’s finally recognized as a proper ninja and got tossed up high in the air by his comrades...”

“Ah~ that’s a really emotional scene, isn’t it~”

“And the part where the teacher, who was his only ally, looked at him and got moved to tears... it’s definitely something you can’t miss.”

“Ah~ you’re going in really on point, aren’t you~”

“The part where they said, ‘Right now, there’s a hero in front of me’, right?”

“I understand, I understand so well~~~~ That’s super extra melancholic, and because I feel hit right on the heart should I add on a topping for you?”

“Ah, so it’s that kind of system?”

“It’s a 400 yen a la carte menu, ‘Melancholy Potato’ add-on~”

“Wahh, that makes no sense――! So much carbohydrate!”

“Well then, let’s say it together: Emo――i!”[20]

“Emo――i!”

In a rather messy fashion, the potato was added on on top of the plate.

It’s definitely got that ‘refrigerated food’ feel, but it seems for an a la carte it goes for 400 yen. When you’re having fun you stop caring about such things, but Fushiguro was so bothered he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help but to get bothered about various things.

And when he thought so, the tip of the blade is now aimed at him.

“This Master, too, together~!”

“Come on, Fushiguro, there’s topping there, too!”

“Okay, e――moi!”

“E――moi!”

“...”

Fushiguro didn’t reply. However, the event continued.

“Well, now that we have added on the topping, let’s take a cheki[21] with the dish. Okay, come closer, come closer~”

“Eh, there’s that kind of thing in this cafe?”

“Because it’s the Preciouse Set.”

“Heeh, I don’t understand at all but I see!”

“There’s this heavenly-feel, right?

“I dunno, is there? Might be.”

“...”

“Well then, excuse me for sitting beside you~”

“Eh, aren’t you too close? I’m a bit embarrassed about these kinds of things.”

“You have to experience this kind of embarrassment to be an adult, you know~”

“Is that true?”

“Yup, it is~ Here goes, cheki☆”

“Che-cheki!”

“...”

“Thank you very much~”

“Oh darn, this is so embarrasing! Wah, my face’s so hot! It feels like I just paid off a really important thing! Am I okay? I’m still a minor!”

“Kyaa~ You’re so innocent it’s cute~ Well then, the Master over there, let’s go.”

“After all, the type of closeness is different to that of a folk dance. Fushiguro, be careful! You’ll get embarrassed! Super embarrassed!”

“Please prepare for taking the cheki~!”

“Fushiguro, it’s gonna start.”

“........................ No.”

Echoed a fragile, feeble, delicate voice like that of a dying duck.

“............ I’m......... okay......”

Fushiguro has finally reached his limits.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈« 

“Aah, I unexpectedly ate a lot. But the taste’s kind of ordinary, wasn’t it.”

“The inside of my mouth’s dried because of all the potatoes.”

Thirty minutes passed.

Fushiguro and Itadori safely got out of heaven that took 500 yen to go in to.

“Fushiguro, I got the cheki we took earlier, you want it?”

“The next time you joke like that, I’m going to jam in paprika up your nose.”

“Isn’t it just something you don’t like! No, I understand, I understand that’s the limit to your harassment!”

“There’s a temple near Kanda. We’re going to burn the photos there.”

“Does it have to be in a temple!?”

“The only thing to do to cursed pictures is burning it for offering.”

“I’m sorry, okay! I didn’t know you were in that much pain!”

From Itadori’s perspective, Fushiguro always looked like he’s in a bad mood, but today, once again he got a look at ‘an actually angry Fushiguro’.

Now that it’s become like this, even Itadori couldn’t get into his usual rhythm.

A bit awkwardly, he thought of how to continue the conversation as he scratched his cheek - and then finally he decided to go back to the start of everything.

“B-by the way, in the end we lost Gojou-sensei, huh.”

“Yeah, but who cares about that.”

“Wa-waah, I wonder where he went......”

“What’s this about me?”

““Uwaaaaah!?””

The person who stepped into their somewhat awkward atmosphere in a suprising timing was Gojou, appearing from behind them.

Moreover――

“Go-Gojou-sensei! Since when were you behind us...... huh? Kugisaki’s here, too? Why?”

“Don’t ‘why’ me, you ass.”

Behind Gojou, Kugisaki shows up in a bad mood... or rather, full of malice and resentment.

For Itadori, it would be that another angry classmate shows up.

“Eeh... Even Kugisaki’s in a bad mood.”

“Of course I’d be. Because you guys loitered around Gojou-sensei, we...”

“Oh, come to think of it, Gojou-sensei, is it your day off today?”

“Don’t ignore me, you!”

Sensing that Kugisaki would complain in a more assertive fashion than Fushiguro, Itadori quite bluntly changed the subject.

Although, in the end, the subject didn’t change.

“No, I’m working as usual.”

“Eh? But you ate crepes and walked around town...”

“If you’re as busy as me, you wouldn’t have time to walk around town and making rediscoveries if not as you work, y’know. I might look like that but I’m actually doing my job.”

“And that is?”

“Looking for a dungeon.”

“...... Dungeon?”

“To use a different term, I’m looking for a nice cursed spot that could be used by the first years to acquire experience. In other words, I’m doing preliminary inspection.”

“.........Yes?”

The memories from when he’d first transferred to the Curse Technical College resurfaced on the back of Itadori’s mind.

That day, they were going to sight-see Tokyo, but in the end they had to participate in a curse exorcism recreation in an abandoned building.

Gojou continued indifferently.

“That maid cafe’s neighboring building’s mostly empty of tenants, but a strange rumor seems to have shown up on the internet, you see. And, because of the old record shop with quite a long history rented the place, the curse story’s credibility went up.”

“Ahh, that’s why you kept looking at the window despite there being nothing to see but the building.”

“Then, this is supposed to be a task for another day, but in a happy coincidence, the three first years are all present, so... ‘This is nice, I’ll just have them challenge it today!’, I thought.”

“Eh... eh!?”

“Don’t worry. I’ve moved around the amp abandoned in the building, played recordings like what’s written on the rumors, and other stuff to provoke the cursed spirit. So, you guys will be able to meet a very lively cursed spirit no problem!”

“......... Eeh...”

Itadori immediately moved his gaze towards Kugisaki.

He finally understood the reason for her face full of resentment.

In contrast, Fushiguro looked sharp and firm.

“Alright, we’re going.”

“Wh-why are you so eager!?”

“I feel much better doing this than going to a game center or a maid cafe.”

“Eh, what, you guys went to a maid cafe? Forget Itadori, but you too, Fushiguro? You look composed but you’re actually a lecher, huh, all of you!”

“It was inevitable.”

“What do you mean, forget about me!?”

“Who cares, let’s go.”

“That’s why I’m asking, why are you already in battle mode, Fushiguro!?”

“’Cause Megumi didn’t get the chance to show his abilities in the abandoned building the other day, he’s still all about it.”

“I’m not all about that.”

“No, your face clearly looks like you’re all about it.”

“You’re actually the type to hold a grudge for a long time, aren’t you.”

“Well then everyone, be careful on the way. I’m going to go eat age-manjuu[16].”

“You’re still going to eat!?”

“Let’s just go.”

“Don’t ‘let’s go’ me! Shit, good bye, my day off――――!”

“My Ame-yoko―――!”

From a day off gone wrong, being able to get in touch with a shaman’s ‘usual atmosphere’ helped Fushiguro recover quite a bit.

On the other hand, there are Itadori who had his satisfying holiday cut off, and Kugisaki who’d missed eating Ame-yoko’s specialty, Hyakka-en’s fruits[22].

Gojou saw off the three, noisily heading to exorcise the cursed spirit, with his usual light smile.

“Hm?”

Something fell off from Itadori’s pocket. What is it? Gojou tilted his head in question as he picked it up.

And the next moment, he burst into a laugh.

“Mm, hahahahahahahahahaha!”

Gojou couldn’t stop laughing as the image leapt into his sight.

“Ku, kukuku......... Aren’t they actually having the time of their life, those youngsters.”

80% of his smile was due to the strangeness.

20% of it was due to the pleasantness.

It was said that for some time, Gojou laughed with the picture of Itadori and Fushiguro with a maid wearing angel wings in hand.

Megumi-sama ♥ ♥ Please come again!!

Notes

(p.s. I'm not very sure about some of these, please do tell me if I got anything wrong.)

[1] Mito Koumon is the titular character (also a real person, his other name is Tokugawa Mitsukuni) of a period drama. Each episode always end with Mito Koumon, in a disguise, winning in a brawl against bad guys.

[2] Sazae-san is the name of an anime that has aired every Sunday since 1946 in Japan.

[3] Ame-yoko is an area in Tokyo famous for its shopping districts.

[4] Parque Espana is a Spanish theme park in Japan.

[5] Ueno and Okachimachi is also area in Tokyo.

[6] Tachikawa is a town in Okachimachi.

[7] Chiyoda ward is a special ward located in central Tokyo.

[8] Masakadozuka is the tomb of a beheaded hero.

[9] Akiba is the short term for Akihabara.

[10] Pepper-kun is a really famous robot from Japan.

[11] Onsen is a hot spring.

[12] Super sentou: sentou means a public bath, but in super sentou they have much more facilities than a simple bath, like sweets shops, terrace, and rest areas.

[13] Yamanote-sen is a railway loop line in Tokyo. It goes through famous places like Shibuya, Shinjuku, and Ikebukuro.

[14] It's a place with a ball machine (like Mechamaru during the baseball event) that you use to just... hit balls with a bat.

[15] That small machine you put in money and roll to get some surprises. Some of them are really expensive...

[16] SHOW悪 is, I think, a pun on 性悪 (shouwaru) = ill-natured.

[17] 尊みセット・エモエモ A. I'm not sure how to translate this (this whole maid cafe sequence is giving me a headache), but 尊い (toutoi) means precious. It's usually an otaku language when one talks about their favorite characters. エモ (emo or emoi) means emotional or melancholic. It's also usually used as an otaku language.

[18] かしこまリィンカネーション☆　= Understood-reincarnation. How am I supposed to make this work.

[19] Omelette rice.

[20] I give up. It's emoi. It's just emoi.

[21] Cheki is those polaroid pictures you take with idols, usually.

[22] Hyakka-en is a fruit store that's apparently very famous. Kind of expensive (but fruits are expensive in general in Japan), and for older fruits they chop it up and place it on a stick.

Honestly the novel is a treasure chest full of cute moments and amazing characterization information. I really love it - it’s probably my best buy. If you love Jujutsu Kaisen, you should really buy the book!

By the way, they’re going to release a second light novel soon.