#the low resolution is part of the charm okay?

[damselflyvids]

Hal Yorke - Death Wish

I kill everything I've ever loved / I will be the one to mess it up

Song: "Death Wish" by LØLØ

A Being Human UK crack vid for @platoapproved, who introduced me to the show and who thinks the later seasons don't get enough love. She summarized this vid as "he's a fucking TRAINWRECK <3"

Content warnings: Canon-typical levels of blood and death, including an on-screen suicide and the death of an infant

[aranarumei]

tenma sumeragi’s genuinely one of my favorite characters in a piece of media ever and it’s still difficult to quite explain why. like with other characters I love—take yuki from the same game, for example, I can boil down the main parts of why I like them at least fairly succinctly… with yuki I love that his crossdressing isn’t a joke but a sincere expression of his love of fashion, and that he’s both insightful and cutting and vulnerable in a way that middle schoolers can be. (okay i can tell this will get long so the rest under the cut)

but for tenma, it’s like the way that I adore him is a… collection of little details? like, I simply become more charmed over time… or something.

he’s closed off and pompous at the beginning, all while carrying a deep sense of earnestness even from the start—though he acts like he’s hot shit, he auditions for mankai out of his deep respect for sakuya adlibbing and a desire to improve himself. even as a popular child actor inheriting the legacy of famous movie stars, it’s clear he’s got his own deep appreciation for acting as well as his own personal standards.

like, even in the beginning, when he’s got a low opinion of his cast mates, he’s respectful of yuzo’s critique. and later we see that when he doesn’t get the part he wanted for this amazing audition, he acknowledges his own faults and understands he has room to grow. for someone who is frequently irritable and always bickering with yuki, there’s a startling kind of maturity when it comes to acting. and it’s part of why summer troupe is so good for him—as much as he is their leader, he also gets to act like a kid!

he’s stupid and sheltered enough to be scared off by fireworks, but he’s insightful when it comes to acting, which it’s clear he’s studied very much. and he’s scared of ghosts, but he’ll head back to face his father all on his own with quiet resolution, making a blog post so that he’s literally unable to back out from the show, and no one else can make him do so. rather than refuse to sell tickets under the weight of his star power, he adores mankai so much that he’s willing to sacrifice that pride of his, because summer troupe is the one thing that he can’t let go. and he returns with a black eye because his father punched him, but simply brushes it off.

I think what really gets me is like… for someone whose life has been characterized by loneliness, he’s earnest and sincere and loving. it’s him that takes the initiative to step forward and change himself. and when he does, and makes the first proper friends of his life, it’s that connection that allows him to learn how to adlib so wonderfully and successfully.

maybe what I appreciate most is that for all the dramatic elements in tenma’s life, and his in-your-face loudness every once in a while (hear him squawk about some injustice or whatever) he’s actually quite a reserved guy? but I never feel that I can’t see the depths of his love for the people that he cares about, as well as the passion he holds towards acting. there’s lots of little details, though… I feel like I haven’t even touched on half of them!

[construingseacats]

Umireread: Legend of the Golden Witch - Chapter 10: The Six Chosen by the Key   

Sun, Oct 5 1986 - 6:00AM

The following contains spoilers for the entirety of Umineko. Please do not read if you are yet to finish it.

I’m so excited for this chapter, you have no idea.

Extremely funny mental image of Yasu going to Natsuhi’s room, seeing the charm, then deciding “well if she’s off the table then I’m killing that asshole who gave me night duty while he did his crossword”. Of course, she probably had to kill Gohda to help avoid any incriminating testimony from her changing her assigned position last night, but it’s still funny to think about.

Since the rest are the adults, it’s easy to think about Gohda being an odd one out and the obvious replacement for Natsuhi, but given the above I wonder who the unfortunate backup was. Maybe Rosa? Or potentially one of either Rudolf or Kyrie, originally intending to only kill one of the adults per pair?

I love how Genji goes “Sorry. The Telephones are down” then “By the way Gohda is missing”, and completely neglects to mention that Natsuhi’s door is coated in bloodstains. Just leave the most obvious detail as something for her to find out for herself, you know.

“Natsuhi had a pretty good idea” is SUCH a funny line. Not even concerned by the horror movie trope, she already suspects which family member did it. I wonder who her mind immediately jumps to - although let’s be real, it’s probably Eva.

Eva tries to check on Kinzo and Natsuhi immediately shoots her down. It’s really funny how blatant the cover up is. Like, you’re unlikely to question it, since we keep getting fantasy scenes of Kinzo in his study, but it sure is there if you go looking for it.

Speaking of - the moment we see Kinzo in the office here, we’ve accounted for 17 of our 18 (with 5 known missing). Good game Shannon, we have our six chosen by the key.

Natsuhi, alone in the study, worries about how much Eva is going to tear into her, and then immediately makes up a pep talk to make herself feel good. I’m telling you, these study scenes are a goldmine.

Yeah, Eva absolutely would have been the one to leave bloody scratch marks all over Natsuhi’s door.

Here we go

HERE WE GO

…Okay, you can have that one. Saying it’s a sigh of relief right as they uncover the bodies is very cheeky, but the irony balances out how tense the scene is. It’s a breather for the reader as well.

We actually get a breather with the kids as well. Final moments of innocent Battler caught on tape.

Chills. Full chills.

And here it is. 

Allow me to indulge for a moment.

When I was a kid, my first anime was The Haruhi of Melancholy Suzumiya. I watched it through low-resolution fansubs that had been posted on a YouTube that was still in its youth, with each episode awkwardly split into three parts since you couldn’t upload videos longer than ten minutes. I probably watched that at an age that was slightly too young for it, but as a kid who only knew the world of animation through the veneer of kids cartoons and Matt Groening shows (except maybe that one time I watched Spirited Away when I was 5 - which also left a stark impression on me), it really opened my eyes to a world of new media that I hadn’t even conceived of before. I really wanted to see what else there was.

Anyway, my second anime was Higurashi no naku koro ni.

If I was slightly too young for Haruhi, I was definitely too young for Higurashi. But that was part of the appeal, I suppose - the prepubescent desire to cast away the shackles of childhood and prove your maturity. That you’ve grown up. I legitimately remember 10 or 11 year old me showing a friend the scene of Rika stabbing herself in the head while going “look at what I’m watching now! Look how mature I am!” - admittedly, this was to a friend who had allegedly already seen all manner of films rated 15 or 18, so it arguably would have been relatively tame to them, and boasting about your maturity is undoubtedly the most immature thing a person can do.

While the initial appeal there was that Higurashi was “mature”, it was still really interesting. There was good intrigue there, the plot had me hooked, and from start to finish it was a really good piece of media. I’m pretty sure my younger self saw the scene where the sound of gunshots are covered up by fireworks at the local festival and thought it was the smartest plot point in any piece of media ever. Anyway, a short while later, I heard that there was going to be a sequel anime to Higurashi - a new show, called Umineko.

Now, I had a fine time with the Umineko anime. I would have been 12-13 as it was airing - still eager to consume media I was too young for - and, with no bar for quality, I enjoyed it. There was cool gore! The mystery was exciting! The red truth was such a neat concept and the witch fights were badass! Sure, it may not have had as much of a lasting impact on me as Higurashi, but it was still good, right?

Well, it wasn’t good. In fact, pretty much all the anime reviews I saw for it were negative. There were still a few fools like myself who had enjoyed it, but there was one thing I kept seeing - a sentiment that was effectively universal. A simple statement.

“The Visual Novel is so much better.”

I held onto those words for a few years.

I don’t know what the instigator for it was, but somewhere down the line, I decided to act on it. I bought the original japanese version of Episodes 1-4 and 5-8 through what I believe was the old Witch Hunt site - quite possibly one of the dodgiest deals I’ve ever made, as anyone who procured Umineko back in the old days can attest to - and applied the fanmade english patch. The PS3 sprite mod looked so much better than the original sprites, so I installed that as well. And, 10 years ago, I started playing.

It was… fine. I wasn’t a huge fan of how the text covered the whole screen, rather than appearing in text boxes, like it did in the other VNs I’d played. I say that as if I’d actually played any VN other than Katawa Shoujo at that time. But, I remembered liking Umineko, so I pressed on. I pressed on through the boring introductions, through the boring discussions of the inheritance, waiting to get to the cool parts where Beatrice showed up and the magic fights started happening.

But then, we got to this scene.

There I was, sitting with my laptop on holiday, with my cheap earphones plugged in, as the cousins approached the gardening shed. As the adults told them not to get any closer. As they did so anyway.

What followed is some of the most unrelentingly raw reactions to a visceral scene like this that I’d ever seen in any piece of media, ever. This wasn’t the dulled impact that the anime had hit me with - this was a full, unfiltered, uncensored dive into the immutable affliction of being human. They’ve got no faces - you could feel Battler’s unmitigated despair oozing from it all. These weren’t just characters reacting to a scene in a book. This was something more.

This was the moment that I fell in love with Umineko.

Perhaps I gave too much background to that statement - perhaps I’ve fallen afoot of the same criticisms I levied against the earlier parts of the tale for not getting to the point quicker. But that is the play-by-play of how, 10 years ago, this scene went straight for the jugular and bled me dry. This is where I knew I wasn’t just reading another version of that anime I’d seen the years prior, I was reading something special.

I would be remiss to say this is entirely down to the writing - a lot of this is also heavily driven by the blaring tones of goldenslaughterer. If Umineko was simply a series of 8 books, it wouldn’t have had the same effect on me as it has done for the past decade. If this scene wasn’t equipped with one of the most perfect aural accompaniments imaginable, I don’t think it would have stuck with me as much as it did. But the palpable emotion dripping from each word - the killer performances from each of the VAs (Jessica’s screams are INCREDIBLE) - and the musical storytelling doing just as much heavy lifting as the writing is… it’s an inimitable experience. This is what everyone was telling me that I was missing out on back in the halcyon days of 2009. They were right.

Perhaps it was for the best that I did give it those few extra years, so that I could truly appreciate the masterwork being crafted before me. I can’t imagine even beginning to comprehend the themes or the mystery of this tale at age 13, when I scarcely did so at 17. But regardless of the what ifs, this is the path that led me to what I consider, with no exaggeration, a pivotal moment in my life. It’s hard to describe the emotions that were stirred as I approached this scene for the reread - if I had to approximate it, then it would be unbound excitement mixed with trepidation, a great interest in re-experiencing such an important scene tempered by a fear that it may not have been as good as I remembered.

Of course, it wasn’t going to hit me in the exact same way that it did the first time round - you cannot recreate the sensation of a sucker punch when you know that it’s coming. But I can say, with certainty, that this scene was just as good as I remembered. That it still hit all the points that made me fall in love with the story originally.

I cannot wait to keep reading the rest.

Honestly, after what I’ve just said (and my feelings at large), it feels sacreligious to stop and dissect this scene. It’s something you want to just let play out, to absorb the experience - part of me wants to just skip straight to the end.

But still, I’d feel remiss not to mention Nanjo’s acting here - he goes into doctor mode and then realises “wait, I need to be more emotional” before dropping it immediately. One of those moments that doesn’t arouse suspicion on a first read but feels super blatant afterwards.

In for a penny, in for a pound. Hideyoshi looks and sounds so pained having to perpetuate the crucial lie over here. You can really feel the thoughts running through his head of “do I expose it? Is it worth it?”

AND THEN WE GET HIT WITH WORLD END. I cannot stress how much music matters to me and accentuates the experience; a sound novel utilised to the full extent of the medium can truly produce a story that no traditional paper novel ever can.

Phenomenal work from the VA here - they clearly got the memo that this is a panicked “no” of not wanting the lie to be unveiled, rather than one of sincere desire to protect George. Again, you can still interpret it as the latter, so you’re unlikely to pick it up on a first read, but absolutely there on the reread.

There’s an incredible parallel made here of George holding onto Shannon’s smile, while Battler is doomed to remember the gored faces of his parents. Not only is this great by itself, it’s yet another example of fantasy versus reality, with George being able to hold onto happy memories by being ignorant to the truth (even if that truth isn’t a real truth in this case).

“Proved beyond doubt”, the narrative says, about the one body that we should doubt.

No commentary - this is just a great line and I wanted to highlight it.

And so all the associates chime in to cover it up.

I feel like it’s fairly easy to miss how well Eva is taking the whole thing in this scene. Everyone else is traumatised, and she’s holding up remarkably well.

Interesting how it’s the associates setting up the howdunnit as well! I suppose Yasu wants to make sure that element isn’t missed by the would-be detectives.

And so Umineko tells you to your face that this is the story about a serial killer who wants to be discovered. I suppose there’s already elements of that in the letter to solve the Epitaph, but it’s really made explicit here.

I’m still riding the high of the first twilight. I’m not sure if there’s any other scene in Umineko that I’ll gush about to that extent, but I know there’s plenty of moments yet to come that won’t fail to blow me away.

I know it’s integral to the story, and it wouldn’t work otherwise, but I do have to say that the howdunnit hook adds so much to Umineko that wouldn’t be there otherwise. Some of my fondest memories from the first readthrough was trying to figure out how it was all done (without ever considering the scenes that were lying to us, oops). I’m really looking forward to going through that all again, with the lens of love.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

H - Horses

Written for @laurfilijames who is stuck at work :( I hope you're okay, friend <3

Words: 1.4 k

Characters: Éomer x OC, Éowyn, Finna the horse

Warnings: mild fear, lots of horse cuddles

Éowyn stared at the man for a long time without saying a single word as he stood there, head bowed in shame, awaiting her verdict concerning the embarrassing reason he had come before her to ask for her help.

She had grown up around horses and could not imagine being afraid of them. Nonetheless, she was too kind to deride the elderly nobleman and his skittish daughter when they had come—in secret—to her for assistance.

Apparently, the young lady, utterly terrified of horses since her earliest childhood, was resolute in her determination to overcome her irrational fear of the beasts and to learn how to ride properly. Only, to achieve this daunting victory over her mind, she needed guidance from someone who knew horses well.

As this family was an important one in the realm, Éowyn could truly appreciate how much of an impediment it would be if it were to become known that this young woman—heiress and one of the most valuable pawns of the generation—was unable to be in a saddle without nearly fainting.

“I can assure you,” the shieldmaiden promised, “that my brother will be able to help her. Éomer is the single-most reliable person in the whole world when it comes to those things.”

By “those things”, she meant both the handling of equines and of young, skittish maidens.

A fond smile spread over her face at the recollection of how her brother had taught her to ride when she had been little more than a babe in arms. Éomer had never once let her fall and he had been most displeased when—upon riding on her own—Éowyn had promptly attempted some truly daring feats.

Nonetheless, he had also always picked her up and tended to her injuries—yes, she had utter faith in Éomer when it came to this particular part of their lives.

The man thanked her, bowing low in his reverence, and walked away with a last, hard stare at his daughter—there was disappointment and incomprehension in his gaze, Éowyn could see and this realisation made her empathy and goodwill towards the young lady deepen considerably.

“I mean it,” she promised, “Éomer is an excellent rider and he is a master of horses; nothing bad can happen to you as long as he’s by your side.”

Just as she held the frail, smooth hand of the other woman, the door was flung open and her brother stormed in. “You called for me, sister?” he exclaimed raucously, his delighted grin sobering into a less exuberant and much more charming smile as he caught sight of their guest.

“Éomer,” Éowyn greeted calmly, “would you take this young lady to the stables and introduce her to the kindest, gentlest horse we have? She is a bit uneasy around them and her father trusts us to help her overcome that…discomfort.”

A minute frown rippled over Éomer’s handsome face as well, but—just like his sister—he was too well-bred and kind to so much as scoff at a stance that seemed entirely unreasonable and inexplicable to him.

“Sure, follow me, my lady,” he said courteously after bowing again to their esteemed guest and giving her a reassuring smile. “We have some very nice beasts who would be delighted to make your acquaintance, I am sure.”

Walking slowly so as to not lose the young noblewoman, Éomer led her to the stables—in his mind, he was going over the available steeds methodically before settling on a gentle light-grey mare that was often used to teach children.

“Someone named her Finna, after some elven maid who died tragically,” he explained; he was not entirely sure that this was truly the provenance of the name, but it sure sounded credible enough. In truth, they had so many foals to name that inspiration and genius were hard to come by at times.

“She’s a very calm animal and a steadfast friend even to the most nervous of our riders,” he assured her and, taking her pale, slender hand into his own, placed it carefully on the silken neck of the patiently waiting animal.

Finna was indeed used to insecure or outright hesitant visitors and so she did not move her massive head even though she much desired to investigate whether Éomer had not perchance brought a treat along with him.

The young lady swallowed thickly; she was dressed in riding clothes that were blatantly new and had clearly never been put to use before which made Éomer smile.

“I shall bring you a bucket of feed and a few brushes. Today, you may feed Finna and brush the mud off her back and hindlegs. Tomorrow, you shall come back, and I’ll show you how to clean her hooves and tend to her saddle.”

Astonished, both ladies—equine and human—looked at Éomer with wide, wet eyes.

“You’ll learn to do the work before I’ll introduce you to the joys,” Éomer declared kindly. “Do not be dismayed; the king and his whole household have started by mucking out the stables. To them, titles and rank matter very little and it shall teach you the humility and faith that you’ll need before you can feel at home on the back of a horse.”

Seeing the sense in his sober words, she nodded and—with tiny, trembling steps—she entered the box Éomer opened to her. “Have fun you two.”

As the days passed, Éomer was delighted to report to his sister that their new friend was getting along great with Finna—the young woman now moved confidently through the mare’s box and lavished scratches and pats on the welcoming beast.

“She’s brought an apple from her own orchard,” he said, brushing his hands against his leggings absent-mindedly, “and now the blasted beast seems to have grown used to be given only the best and sweetest fruit.”

Pride tinged his voice as he intimated that the young lady was almost ready.

Éowyn merely smiled enigmatically; she knew that the way to her brother’s heart was a dirt path marred by hooves and she sincerely hoped that the frail but brave lady would find the courage to go down that road.

It did not surprise her that her brother had made good progress with her—she trusted both Éomer and their horses intrinsically to overcome whatever fear someone might harbour for they were eminently reliable, kind, and charming.

A few days later, as she mused about taking a walk in the sun, she heard her name called loudly.

“Look,” Éomer cried, leading a very placid Finna down the square. On her broad, comfortable back sat the young lady, grinning blindingly and even going as far as to wave at Éowyn.

“Ah, good seat!” Éowyn praised. “Before long, you’ll be racing Éomer through the meadows. Be advised though—he is a cheater. Whatever steed he chooses, insist on swapping.”

At that, her brother gave a snorting laugh and shook his head. “The same goes for my sister,” he whispered conspiratorially at the lady who stared down at him with bulging eyes. “Come to think of it, rare are those who would challenge her—she’s dangerously reckless.”

“I doubt that I shall be up to that any time soon,” the lady muttered miserably.

“You don’t have to. Let’s work on you holding the reins and steering good, old Finna here. If you manage to do that and run a few errands for me—getting off and on the horse on your own—I shall take you to a lovely patch I know, and we shall have a picnic.”

Again, she blinked owlishly while Éowyn rolled her eyes in annoyance—it was just like Éomer to send the poor girl to do all the chores he wanted to avoid and pretend that it was for her own good and out of selfless goodwill on his part.

“Give me those reins,” the lady said resolutely and—with a last defiant gaze at Éomer’s self-satisfied face—she turned Finna around and rode off.

“Ah, brother…” Éowyn hooted, “it seems to me as if you had to run your errands yourself and—while you’re at it—I shall give you the household list as well. You’re the best; I knew I could count on you!”

@fellowshipofthefics: Here, have some more Éomer-bullying haha

Lots of love from me

-> Masterlist

[alexandra-emerson]

Harmony Drabble

This was written for the Sanctuary Discord. The prompt was: Someone has their first kiss at a New Year’s party. By accident, on purpose, or maybe the result of a prank or dare?

“So you and Draco Malfoy, huh?”

Harry leaned against the railing and focused on the city skyline spreading across the horizon, glad to have something to look at besides Hermione, who was wearing a form-fitting red dress, matching red lipstick, high-heeled shoes, wild curls that were slightly more tame than usual, perfect skin, irresistible curves, long lashes, elegant–

Okay, that’s enough.

Simply put, she looked good. Too good. It should be illegal how good she looked. They were currently at a party for all the members of the Magical Law Enforcement office. You’d think someone here could give her a sort of written warning. 

Hermione let out a small laugh. “Just my luck, right? Having to kiss my childhood bully. Whose idea was that stupid game, anyway?”

“Tabitha,” Harry said, his throat going dry at the memory of Malfoy getting to kiss those perfect red lips. “He rigged it,” Harry said, the words spilling from mouth, unbidden.

“He – what? Why would he do that?”

Because you’re bloody gorgeous and every guy here wants to kiss you, grab you, press you up against a wall, run his hands up your dress and reach into your knickers. Squeeze your bum, suck on that hollow part of your neck–

“Harry?”

Harry swallowed hard. “What?”

“You said Malfoy rigged the game. Why would he do that?”

“He must have wanted to kiss you,” Harry shrugged.

Hermione hummed and focused back on the skyline. “How do you know?”

Harry closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, tried to find that calm that always settled him when he was in the field, then said in a rush, “I know because I rigged the game first. The whole thing was my idea and when Tabitha had all those names in the bowl, I stuck ours together. The charm was strong, so I know the only way your name could have come out with Malfoy’s, instead of mine, was if he got a hold of the bowl after I’d tampered with it.”

Silence. The only sound was the faint music coming from inside. Harry kept his eyes closed, too afraid to see the look on Hermione’s face. Which expression was she wearing? Horror? Confusion? Unease? Pity?

She placed a warm hand on his cheek and turned his head. He kept his eyes closed. It was pity. He could almost see the apologetic expression in those large brown eyes now. She was going to say something about how they were such good friends, the best, and how she didn’t want to do anything to compromise–

The feeling of her lips against his erased all thoughts from his mind. Harry froze. She planted kisses against his closed mouth but he couldn’t make himself respond. He was in shock. What did they learn in training about shock? How did you come out of it? Water. He needed someone to douse him in water.

“Harry?”

Shit. The kissing had stopped. He forced his eyes open. Hermione was just inches from him, looking embarrassed, of all things. “Sorry, I thought you – um, you said rigged the game and – I guess I misinterpreted–”

He buried one hand in her curls and pulled her close with the other, crashing his lips into hers. The fear of mucking up this shot with Hermione was even more effective and an Aguamenti to the face.

Harry laced his fingers into her curls and moved the other hand down to her bum. Fuck, he was touching Hermione’s ass and it was so bloody perfect. A warmth of pleasure flowed through him, stopping at his groin. She pressed her hips into his, causing him to let out a low groan.

She pulled back to catch her breath. He rested his forehead against hers. “Go out with me,” he panted, then added in a slightly more controlled tone, “Er – please?”

Hermione bit her lip as she considered. He hardened slightly at the sight, then wondered if she could feel it, since she was still pressed against him.

“It was my, er, New Year’s resolution to ask you out,” he continued. He realized his hand was still on her bum. Should he move it? No. He didn’t want to. And she didn’t seem to have a problem with it.

“Really?” she asked.

Harry nodded. “It’s been my New Year’s resolution for the past three years.”

Her face fell. He finally dropped his hand from her backside. He searched frantically for that place of calm, but she’d done something with it. He couldn’t find it anywhere. “Malfoy asked me out earlier,” she whispered. “I said yes.”

Harry jumped back as violently as if he’d been stung. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he muttered under his breath.

“Yes,” she grinned.

“Wait. What?” Harry was so confused. What was going on? He was usually smarter than this, wasn’t he?

“I was joking,” she explained. “I would never say yes to Malfoy and even if I had, I would cancel in a second for you. I’d choose you over him any day – over any wizard, for that matter.”

A goofy grin took over Harry’s face. He felt like he was floating. He looked down at his feet, just to be sure, then back up at her. She was beaming. His heart skipped. “Gives new meaning to the whole ‘Chosen One’ nickname.”

She let out a laugh. “That was an awful joke. Is putting up with this corny sense of humor a part of being your girlfriend?”

“Girlfriend?” he asked, barely managing to push the word out. He paused to take a breath. “I mean – I want that – of course – but we can just do – er – one date to start. No pressure. Whatever you want.”

She closed the distance between them, placing a hand on his cheek. “It’s us, Harry. Once we start this, it’s not going to stop at just one date.”

Harry attacked her with another kiss. She hadn’t been expecting it and let out a surprised squeal. It was unbelievably cute. His girlfriend was the cutest. The thought nearly turned him into a puddle of goo. He willed himself to stay solid, so he could continue kissing the stunning witch in front of him.

He returned his hand to her backside and braced himself for the moment when he’d wake from the dream. He didn’t. He threaded his fingers through her curls and still, he didn’t wake. He pressed his tongue into her mouth, slid it against hers, elicited a delicious moan and still, they kept kissing. He wasn’t dreaming, this was real. He was kissing Hermione Granger and sometime soon, they’d go on their first date together. The first of many, he was sure.

What a brilliant start to the new year.

End

[tratserenoyreve]

okay, time for my own writeup on thoughts on genshin as a whole. gonna be long, so i’ll start with its writing/general stuff

for people who like old-school rpgs, where the average playtime could be a couple hundred hours if you want to do all the side quests or hunt down gear, with a “speed run” of the story taking like 60 hours on its own, genshin is pretty on par. tho i’d liken it more to an mmo style of questing, where story threads are offered and then unresolved for months at a time. this means that, for casual players, your expectations on progress for a single play session should be low, and expecting any full character resolution just isn’t gonna be happening for a while.

while i often see complaints on quest tasks being repetitive (fetch quests, defend the monument, run to x place for story), genshin does actually have an unexpected variety in minigames that it throws into the main quests (stealth missions, unique tools for specific uses, on-rails shooter segments). these are also pretty standard quality for an rpg, which is to say some are pretty dull or clunky mechanically. this is also on par with most rpgs i’ve played, and to genshin’s benefit, the fact that they even HAVE an event that is basically a prophunt gamemode is actually pretty cool and fun. there’s also fishing, a whole furniture and realm thing, lil world challenges. just stuff to do.

if you’re the sort who doesn’t like to read npc dialogue, a lot of the game will feel like a slog to you. i find a lot of the character writing to be charming, the localization team put a lot of obvious effort into it. cutscenes are frequent. if stuff like metal gear or final fantasy style scenes where characters stand around and have set emotes that may or may not be voice acted annoyed you, genshin will probably also. i actually really dig character banter and there is a Lot of story crumbs given for just about every quest.

speaking of, genshin’s writing team have done a great job of establishing an entire network of interconnected characters. you can pick just about anyone on the roster and do the degrees of separation game and probably typically only have maybe three degrees max. even random town npc’s are given distinct storylines and even character development as you do quests for them.

this leads me to the playable characters. every playable character has both a set of story snippets (where a narrator reveals more about them as a person by relaying parts of their life to you) and a profile with a bunch of unlockable voicelines that are conversations they have with the Traveler. you earn access to more of these by building friendship with the characters, which can be gotten from doing quests with them in your party, inviting them to your teapot house (i’ll get to that later), or even from crafting some items while they’re with you.

these are completely optional and skippable, but i really like them. it reminds me of systems like tales of vesperia or xenoblade where you get just nice insights into these characters’ deals after spending dozens of hours with them. it’s not crucial for the plot, it’s just nice.

BUT, that does lead me to my first big critique: the way genshin tells stories in pieces is a big hindrance to the impact of certain scenes. there’s a major problem brewing where very neat character moments and stories are stuck as limited time events which are as of yet unplayable once the event ends, and even if you DO participate in these story events, none of the info is saved in your game’s archive which otherwise saves all main story quest dialogue.

this may be changed in the future, given the latest update did finally add a QoL feature that had been asked for for a while (the ability to choose a country from a tab list on the map to zoom to it rather than manually). but, as of right now, the only way to revisit plot from events like golden apple archipelago, shadows amidst snowstorms, the lantern rite, etc is via player recordings on youtube. a quest replay feature has been requested, seems like it should be possible but who knows.

my second major critique of the writing is how genshin seems to be struggling to maintain tone. the inazuma plotline was a big deal for a lot of players and it definitely still has some very cool moments, but the ball got dropped hard with chunks of it, mostly pertaining to Baal aka Ei aka the Raiden Shogun.

if you, like me, spent time doing sidequests in inazuma you’d notice that, outside of even the plot critical ones, things have gone really bad for the people due to the electro archon’s decision to close off her nation. people are starving to death, children have been abandoned by their parents and left to fend for themselves, there is a civil war wherein neighbors are tearing eachother apart and turning in childhood friends because of the vision hunt decree. things are BAD and you can see entire fields of fresh graves.

one of the playable characters from that region that you first meet is Kazuha. he is on the run from the vision hunt decree, if he is captured he will be sentenced to death for his crime. his crime of saving the vision of his friend who was slain by the raiden shogun for defying the decree. he wishes to see the vision shine again.

you also meet characters like Gorou, a war general who has dealt with a lot of death and loss, and Kokomi, a too-young leader who is an inheritor of an entire people’s grief after Baal slew their own god Orobashi and then took them under her dominion. Yoimiya who is just trying to protect her neighbors from having their lives destroyed. Ayaka and Thoma who are working within a rigged system to the best of their abilities to save as many as they can. (this follows the pattern in past nations, the Traveler meeting a bunch of people involved in the disturbance in the region and befriending them, each character having their own perspective or hand to play in the narrative)

a war torn nation isn’t new, genshin’s map is covered with the ruins of past societies. liyue’s questline has you discuss parts of the archon war with the geo archon. the tone is consistent there, the sense of grief and how hard people try to stand for what they believe in.

but, then, once you actually meet the electro archon, even after she has then killed another person in front of the Traveler, even after she has tried to kill the Traveler themself like three times, we’re left with… a kind of vapid character. don’t get me wrong, i want to like Ei and even feel it would make sense for her to befriend the Traveler eventually somehow, but… the way the writers chose to do it was basically to handwave her callous behavior and clean the blood off her hands by saying she is just not a people person after living under a rock for 500 years and really she’s just spacey and loves sweets and-augh.

the nuance that had been given to characters like Zhongli, who we learn has been part of war after war and likely has taken hundreds of lives, and how he put effort into actually standing beside his people for thousands of years and that is why they respect him is just. not given at all to ei. instead, your story quest dedicated to ei is introducing isekai manga and dango smoothies to her. meanwhile her citizens who she had been harming with her decrees just. are excited to see her. it is. frustrating.

and that is kind of the thing with genshin. there is so much stuff in it that there is bound to be flops, sturgeon’s law and all that. a lot of sidequests are hit or miss too, it’s just a shame that a huge plot character seemed to be defanged so easily for the sake of advertising. cuz that is likely what it is, genshin wants to sell the characters to you, and it’s kind of hard to sell the electro archon as the “i don’t care if my people die, i believe what i’m doing is right” callous war goddess versus “let’s do a photoshoot with the mountain, what pose should i do? :)”

tho, speaking of, in terms of gacha games being obscene with using s3x appeal to try and drive sales, genshin is shockingly tame. there are a few designs that are incredibly uncomfortable for me, like fischl’s, but i have seen news that many designs are being reworked to be more pg. because genshin is rated t at most, and i believe in china it’s closer to a like pg-13 rating, the content does not have nearly the amount of anime bullshit i thought it would going in. the camera plays nice, the story content is focused on the actual story, and i have only wanted to die on one major occasion which was during mona’s quest and she’s getting new clothes so. Yay? i guess? for not being as scummy in that way?

the story has nothing to do with any romantic pursuits and while it’d be easy for a game like this to go the “collect cuties ;)” route, genshin doesn’t. it instead offers to you enticing plot bunnies that scatter in every direction, like a ton of white rabbits with their own wonderland holes that aren’t going to even have a card kingdom for you to visit for like three more years but oh my god that rabbit HAS a card what’s on it what does it say-and then you may be tempted to buy a nice little hutch for the rabbit so it sticks around until you have a full deck of cards from it maybe. i might just be really asexual and blind tho.

just as the characters are all given interconnected storylines and attachments, so too are they to the world setting! and man, is there so much world lore. do you like books?? lots of books? like ur in elder scrolls only you don’t even get a spell ability for reading these things you just get more tangled up and lost in the lore sauce. it is completely optional but i find a lot of genshin’s charm is in its dedication to creating a really expansive narrative regarding the nature of divinity, what responsibility do gods have to their people, and the weight history has on the present.

the variety of real world cultures and historical references are diverse and every nation in teyvat has a specific blend, with characters having regional names and designs that show off a lot of research and thought. i have been having a lot of fun parsing what may have inspired what and what that may mean for the story.

overall, i feel genshin’s writing is more rewarding for people who are used to long-form storytelling that requires a lot of looking around to piece it together. the main story is straightforward, the Traveler is on a journey to find their twin and they make friends on the way. if the team doesn’t add some way to replay some quests, i feel there’ll be trouble with huge gaps in information, but it’s hard to tell just yet with it being so incomplete. it may also suffer more and more over time from needing to market characters to people and thus negating a lot of the story’s power to explore themes of divine wrath and tragedy. it has some moments that are really really cool and some that are just bummers, but as a whole for what it is right now it’s been a fun trip.

[vsilas]

Okay.... hear me out. T4T post-war Snarry where substance use starts them on the path to cracking their eggs and meeting as new people who are ready to give each other a second chance. A sickeningly self-indulgent fic idea, pure rambling. Target audience: me and me alone.

Transfemme Snape is on probation after the Death Eater trials and is stripped of her magic. It's temporary and much better than Azkaban but it also means that Snape is essentially a Squib for three years following the sentence. One of the things that happens as a result of this is that all of the subtle "notice-me-not" charms on the area around Spinner's End wear off and the local authorities finally decide it's time to get rid of that slum. Snape is forced to move, which is probably for the best, all things considered. Living with your abusive parents' ghosts isn't conducive to healing... and there's a lot that Snape needs to heal from. As things stand Snape really doesn't want to have anything to do with the wizarding world so she moves to a muggle town somewhere on the coast. What with not being able to do magic she also turns to muggle solutions for a lot of her problems. She makes a living tending bar (she's basically nocturnal, doesn't drink, and can quell unruly customers with a look, so it's a good fit). She starts taking medical marijuana for the chronic pain caused by her encounter with Nagini and it stops her from feeling mildly suicidal for the first time in ages. It's nothing like her life was before and so she slowly starts shedding some of the fear and pain that kept her in line and an effective tool... basically her whole life.

Trans guy Harry goes a bit wild after the whole "I died to save the wizarding world" thing. He feels like he's been robbed of his childhood, his adolescence, and basically all the experiences that "normal kids" should have, so he lets go of his remaining impulse control and starts to spiral. The summer of 1998 is rough. There's the funerals, the trials, everybody trying to pick up the pieces of their life. Harry doesn't think he has any pieces of himself left to pick up. He didn't really plan for a future after the war... he could never see himself grown up. Harry breaks up with Ginny because the way they are together makes his skin crawl, even if he can't put a finger on why that is. Ron gets really mad at Harry for dumping his sister and even more so when Harry says that he doesn't want to be an Auror anymore. He briefly goes back for his 8th year with Hermione but drops out in November when he only manages to turn in two assignments and spends most of his time finding ways to sneak off the grounds to get drunk in London clubs. Harry's friends worry about him but there's only so much they can do to help somebody who really doesn't want to be helped. Harry moves into Grimmauld Place, cuts his hair really short, and spends his nights "living" which mostly just means doing party drugs and having a few ill-advised one-night stands. When there is no one to party with, Harry gets drunk alone in Grimmauld Place and punches mirrors. He doesn’t see a future for himself so he decides to just live in the present, however long that's going to last him. He can feel a break coming, something terrifying but necessary. It feels like the only way to forward is to spiral down.

Snape, who has known something was off since she was a kid, finally lets herself accept what that thing is. It isn’t an earth-shattering revelation, just part of slipping off the masks of professor and spy and Death Eater until all that's left underneath is her. How the fuck did she fool everybody into thinking that she was a man for all these years? Maybe that’s why she was such a good spy. Started young. Hid it even from herself. It’s not really an easy thing to accept, but inevitable. Snape is already grieving everything else about her life so what's another lie, another chance at happiness that slipped away before she even knew what it was? She spends a lot of time in her shabby little flat getting stoned but she also walks along the beach and starts planning the rest of her life.

Harry cracks on another of his drunken nights out to some rather unpleasant consequences, including ministry officials having to obliviate dozens of muggles in a Camden club and a hangover so bad even potions don't help with it. Most of it gets hushed up but the yellow press takes the opportunity to start saying how the "Girl-Who-Lived" finally went off the rails, complete with an unflattering picture of Harry's new haircut (granted Harry was about to throw up when the picture was taken...). Harry lays low for a while but he is also a man of action and so he begins to research ways he could transition. St. Mungo's doesn't provide that kind of healthcare so if he wants to go the magical route he would have to figure it out himself or find an expert in gender magic... who doesn't seem to exist. There are references to a witch who brewed a potion to change her gender, but she lived in the 18th century. Being trans is stigmatized in the wizarding world so he assumes that wixen who have transitioned probably don't advertise the fact. Harry doesn't trust himself to do any magic or potion work that advanced without killing himself, so he decides to keep searching. He swears Madam Pomfrey to secrecy and asks her if she can help him. She's taken aback and tells him this kind of magic is not well studied and she doesn't know if there's a potioneer alive, other than Severus Snape maybe, who would even try working on something like that. However, even if Snape wasn't a squib and unable to brew anymore, Harry certainly isn't planning to have anything to do with his old potions professor. He decides that maybe he should just try muggle means.

Meanwhile Snape has been doing theoretical research on magical transition but hits a dead end. She needs access to a magical library, she needs to be able to actually experiment... Not to mention that she still has years of her probation left, which means years before she can even attempt transition. The only thing to do is turn to muggle means to both manage her dysphoria and maybe inspire the next stage of her research. It takes a while to secure an appointment, but one fateful day Snape walks into the reception area of a London clinic... right as Harry Potter is exiting the doctor's office after his check-in for being 3 months on T. To say that there is a moment of shocked silence would be an understatement.

They meet up for coffee and cautiously become a two-person support group for trans wixen who got fucked over by fate (and Dumbledore) and miraculously survived a war. Harry lets Snape use the library at Grimmauld Place and Snape promises to expand her research to try and develop something for him too. Harry apprentices to a curse-breaker and weathers the press dragging him through the mud every chance they get. Snape might have mellowed out a bit but she still gets on Harry's case about the drinking and not finishing school. They bicker a lot and sometimes Harry overcompensates on the machismo and acts like James, or Snape feeling a blinding rage that Harry is so fucking young and has his whole life ahead of him... but they end up coming around to each other every time. On some level, they are the only people in the world who can really understand each other.

Over the course of the next year and a half, they slowly get their lives sorted. And through that process, they become the most important people in each others' lives. What started out as reluctant solidarity grows until one day Harry can't imagine a future that doesn't have Snape in it, and Snape starts thinking of "home" as being wherever Harry is. It's not easy, considering how many issues both of them have, but it's the easiest thing in the world compared to the alternative. Cue resolution of them both magically transitioning, dealing with public perceptions, and leaning into being a scandalous power couple who doesn't take shit from anybody.

Now, if only I could write this as an actual story....

[fyeah-bangtan7]

V: “I have a desire to perfect one cool thing about myself”

As he’s being interviewed, V speaks his mind at a relaxed pace. But there was one moment where he kept on speaking without taking a breath. Look for that moment in the interview below. You listen to a lot of old music on vinyl. Has any particular artist’s music excited you since your last interview with Weverse Magazine? V: I was listening to Louis Armstrong’s music again. And I picked up some albums with a pretty jacket that’s also got a lot of really good hits on it.

How do you feel when you’re listening to those classics? V: I feel like I’m beginning to relax a bit. If I listen to a song when I’m feeling depressed and then really get thinking, the things that are frustrating me disappear, and I can feel myself becoming more peaceful. And it makes me picture things in my head. For example, some songs might make me think of seeing something in front of me while walking down the road somewhere at night when I listen to them. I think setting the mood for listeners is the most important thing. The mood will presumably be different for everyone, but for me, those songs are the ones that are good at setting a really beautiful mood in the moment.

You said that you got inspiration from artists of the past like Sammy Davis Jr. for your performance in “Dynamite.” Was there any artist who inspired you for “Butter”? V: Well, there was Billy Joel. When I shoot a music video, I think of a movie more than any one artist. And when I perform on stage, for some songs I think of the way movies like Reservoir Dogs look. For “Butter,” I watched a lot of teen movies. And musicals. After that I randomly ended up seeing a video on YouTube of some scenes from an old teen movie Johnny Depp did [which turned out to be the movie Cry-Baby]. The image I got from that was really intense. That’s the look I used in “Butter.”

“Butter” felt like a teen musical to me and now I know why. V: I did it like a teen musical, just like you say. When we shot the “Butter” music video, I really, really tried to shoot the part in the elevator so it would feel like a teen movie. Although a lot of takes were edited, so not all of it’s there. (laughs)

What kind of feeling do you get from that kind of teen movie that you find so charming? V: For me, teen movies show a youthfulness that’s appropriate for the age. I think there’s an appropriate mix of emotion, energy, and a completely different and peculiar mood that everyone necessarily experiences at that age. If you watch teen movies, they’re overflowing with energy and full of sunny emotion, but behind it all they’re not as bright as they seem. They are really bright, but the color itself almost feels like some kind of filter. They feel like they have a different filter than other movies, so I tried thinking of teen movies when we shot the music video and put on performances.

That teen movie feeling seems to be divided in two between “Butter” and “Permission to Dance.” By the looks of the thumbnails for the fancam focus videos uploaded to the BANGTANTV YouTube channel, “Butter” seems to showcase a really cool character, while “Permission to Dance” is more teenagers smiling brightly for children. V: The teen movie vibe in “Butter” and “Permission to Dance” are different from one another. We showed the sunny image people usually think of when they think of teen movies in “Permission to Dance.”

Do you think that going with the teen movie vibe influenced your vocals to be the new style that you used? In “Butter,” you still had your signature vocals but without the deep notes, giving them a new feeling. V: That’s because, when we’re given a concept, we have to come up with vocals that fit with the concept. I think my singing style matched up with the concept, so I feel relatively satisfied. There was nothing majorly difficult about actually changing the style itself, since unlike changing your voice, you only have to change your vocal technique. Having said that, even though the notes in “Butter” were high for me, I still hit them! (laughs)

I guess hitting the high notes was your assignment this time around as a vocalist. V: I’ve been working a long time to make up for my weak points. For example, I thought I was weak when it comes to high notes because I sing low parts a lot and I tend to sing in a flowing way. But I had trouble when we were recording “Dynamite” and I had to sing the high notes during the chorus. I got so mad (laughs) so I practiced a lot.

How does it feel to see the results you’re seeing with “Butter” now after all that effort? V: I’m just trying not to rest on my laurels. Like instead of savoring the feeling, I feel like I should go to bed early for everything I have to do the next day? Getting back in tiptop shape quickly is what’s important, so I haven’t really had time to bask in the joy very much. I’m just working hard at the work I had like I always do.In your 

New Year’s greeting on YouTube, you said you regretted not being able to put on the show for ARMY you wanted, and that your 2021 resolution is to “follow my own pace and pattern” when you work on music. Do you think your personal pace and your professional pace are in step this year? V: No. [My professional pace is] fast, so fast. (laughs) We have a lot we have to get ready for since we’re always promoting. It can be challenging sometimes, but in a way, I think it’s also given me a good opportunity to become a little stronger.

I imagine it’s meaningful to do the work for your own songs, because you can slip into your own world. You also made “Blue & Grey” when you were having a hard time, and it consequently became a song that allowed you to empathize with many people and vice versa. Looking back now, what kind of song do you think “Blue & Grey” will be remembered as? V: I think with “Blue & Grey” I just wanted the song to let people know how I was feeling, and how we were feeling, at that time a little better. Obviously everyone was having a hard time, but I think I wanted to share those emotions with ARMY as-is, including the pains we went through in our growth process. And, to put it another way, I think I just felt like making it obvious. (laughs) I thought it was okay to be that obvious, seeing as I couldn’t put those feelings into words. I just hope people could understand how I was feeling; it’s okay if it becomes forgotten later on.

In the “BE-hind Story” interview on YouTube, you talked about the first line of “Blue & Grey”: “Where is my angel?” You explained how, when you have any kind of issue, you close your eyes and wish for your angel to come and think. Are there times when it seems like your angel understands your feelings, as you just mentioned? V: I get a ton of answers by doing it. I’m not religious, but whenever I have some kind of issue, I close my eyes and think about it. Is this right, the way I’m thinking about this, or not? They’re just yes or no questions, like, Does my outfit look good today? Instead of just worrying about what you should do, if you tackle it in the form of a question, you  get a response with the answer.

I guess it could work when you’re looking for inspiration in your life, but what about for your music? In your previous Weverse Magazine interview, you said you make a note whenever you feel something. V: I write in my diary in hopes that it’ll help with writing lyrics and so I don’t forget those feelings. I do it constantly—I open up my diary whenever something comes up. I copy melodies that pop up in my mind, lyrics, and other things from my diary to my notes app temporarily, and when I’m taking a break or I get the urge to work, I open my notes and say, Let’s try this out today, and run over to the studio.

You released “Snow Flower,” featuring Peakboy by V, on Christmas Day. Is that another song you ran to the studio to work on after the feeling came to you? V: For that song, when I was drinking with some older musicians, we were talking about doing a song together, and then we were like, Well, do you think we’ll have time to do that? So we decided to do it right then since everyone was available. My mixtape was delayed, so I at least wanted to play a different song for ARMY, and I thought, since I’m a bit tipsy (laughs) I thought I should try writing something. So I made the song really quickly. In maybe three hours.

Even though you made it quickly, the composition is somewhat complex and it has the same unique atmosphere that “Blue & Grey” did. V: There’s times when I’m, like, in the zone (laughs) and can make a song all in one sitting, but when I’m not feeling it, I end up revising it more and more. And I don’t want the composition to be too obvious, so I try to change up the way the melody flows. With that kind of sharp image coming to you almost immediately, what were you imagining for that song? V: You might think “Snow Flower” is about a type of snowflake, but I was actually thinking about snow and flowers separately. I started hoping that flowers wouldn’t wither away and just keep on blooming on snowy days. But in reality, when it snowed, all the flowers were crushed, the world became blanketed in snow, and I felt like the flower buds turned into snow flowers. I wrote that song about how I felt after watching that happen.

It must be important to feel things intuitively when you’re trying to express yourself through song. V: If it sounds pretty to me: approved. (laughs)

On the other hand, as a member of BTS, you have a job where you have to deal with a packed schedule and keep various situations in mind. How does that make you feel? When you celebrated your Billboard Hot 100 win on V LIVE and the topic of your clothes came up, you joked that you wore them to give off an idol vibe. V: It’s fun. It’s fun, but I could also say it’s hard. The performances are fun. I think idols should shine in a way that’s suitable for their age, and it’s important to do lots of things for fans like ARMY. Not just performances, but also posting pictures, having conversations on social media, making content. We’re artists and idols, so we think each and every one of those things is important. That sentiment won’t change just because we’ve achieved so much success.

You recently held an impromptu event on Weverse for ARMY. V: I’m sure there’s lots of ARMY out there who are tired of not being able to see us in person. But since the only thing we can do for them is to be on stage and stuff, I was worried that we’re not doing enough for them. And I love being able to talk with ARMY so much that now it’s like a habit that I read their posts. I have a thing today. I have a test today. I’m moving today. Somehow I feel better when I hear their stories. When I end up reading things like about how ARMY are living or what kind of lives ARMY have, I can’t help but write a response, and because of that ARMY respond, so I try to become friendlier in a more fun way, too. I want us to be more than the Billboard number one Bangtanies—I want to be ARMY’s partner, their best friend, the friend who’s always by their side when we’re not on stage. It feels like business when I talk about communicating with ARMY. (laughs) I just want to talk with a close friend. I wanna talk with a close friend—that’s exactly how I feel. It’s been a long time since I could see my friend, ARMY. Usually when friends can’t see each other they keep in touch all the time. I can talk about all kinds of things like that with ARMY thanks to the Weverse platform, and because I can hear all about their lives, I think I was able to go on Weverse and hold that kind of event.

You’ve been talking about ARMY nonstop for a few minutes. I was going to ask you how you feel about ARMY, but I think you already answered the question. (laughs) V: They’re just, well, friends I would hate to lose. Friends who seriously give me strength whenever they’re around. Sometimes you find friends like that in life. It’s like that with the other members, and I have other friends who I can share my feelings with. And I have ARMY. So I can’t help but do whatever I can do to make those people smile and make them feel happy.

Well then, is there a song you’ve heard that you want to let ARMY know about? A song that shares your feelings. V: Umm, recently … “No. 1 Party Anthem” by Arctic Monkeys. When I hear that song … I get emotional, somehow. I don’t usually listen to a lot of rock music, but I can instantly feel the band’s emotions with that song. I seriously get goosebumps listening to it, and emotional, and just all kinds of feelings. It’s to the point that, as soon as I hear that song, I think about how I really want to live well.

That song really means a lot to you. V: Actually, I don’t really know what’s up with that song. I don’t even know the lyrics, but I’m quite clear on what sort of emotions the melody and the band’s performance give me.

Don’t you feel like that’s an emotion you want to express to people, as an artist? Like you don’t have to explain your messages in detail? V: I don’t know. I just want to exchange the good, and be the one to embrace the bad. So I have a desire to perfect one cool thing about myself.

So how close do you think you are right now to becoming an artist who has perfected something cool? V: I’ll say 2%. It’ll go up someday later. (laughs)

© source

[anayaahwrites]

KOT Ficlet #5 (Momoya Natsu/ Yoshinaga Atsumu)

When the lights start flashing like a photo booth (And the stars exploding, we'll be fireproof.)

Warning: Themes of underage drinking and implied sexual content.

Natsu roughly based on this art by @sasukeslove

A small AU on MomoYoshi's first meeting:

...

Natsu is six when he learns about Angels.

He’s perched on mama’s lap, carrying a new storybook with tiny hands and slowly pronouncing all the words. Her proud smile encourages him to read the larger words too, the ones he’d avoid out of embarrassment—something about a pro-fe-cky and a pro-mice that He exists up there somewhere, over the pillowy clouds watching down on them.

Mama tucks him in that night and tells Natsu to close his eyes and pray because Angels only come to good boys.

He’s ten when it all sounds like bullshit to him.

Over the years, Mom’s rosy smile had withered into a fatigued sigh, a cry for help to the God that never answers no matter how much they pray. Dad was more a guest than a resident. He came around once in a while to eat lunch—with a taut smile plastered eerily over his smooth features—and swiftly vanish to not return in that week .

They’ve stopped waiting for him and Natsu stops asking questions.

He’s thirteen when he meets Sei, a child around his age, except so much more charming and calm and composed for someone that carried half the same set of genes Natsu had. He learns of his father’s betrayal and is honestly shocked at his own lack of surprise. Still, he questions his God and why why why would He let mom’s heart shatter like that?

Sei is quick to laugh and tell him that God doesn’t exist and mom is just a victim to their monster of a father.

So he goes home that day to his outraged mother, hair coloured like glittery Christmas tinsel and sapphire lenses replacing his usual shade of honey brown. She snaps at the sight, yelling at him till her throat closes up, till nothing but a harsh sob escapes her and he lets her. They both had to cope somehow.

By the fall of his fourteenth year, he gets pierced four times and stops talking to his mother almost completely.

To hell with dad. To hell with God.

Natsu is fifteen, and he doesn’t care about anything anymore.

He’s fifteen and quickly realising from his daily job as a guitarist in the club that girls aren't attractive no matter how much they flock around him. He still humours them sometimes, a touch here, a kiss there since the pay is good enough for him to add some extra service on his part.

Mom plies herself with work as often as possible, to douse her misery in the decayed scent of piled papers and clunking keyboards. She leaves Natsu to deal with everything else on his own like the obedient son he is, letting him go like dad left her.

Natsu is alright, though. He’s done this far longer than she knows.

He stops reaching out to her, stops talking to someone up in the skies, settling instead to live a tranquil life in the shadows, under the dependable shade of music. He hates people. He hates the world.

Natsu is basking in the warmth of another uneventful day in the club, when in walks a boy out of fucking nowhere and his entire world tips on its axis.

The boy takes shaky, wary steps as if he were balancing on a trapeze. Dark black bangs like thick black rain spill over the side of his face, half covering wide brown eyes. Splotches of pink and porcelain white stick out where his sweater ends and skin begins. He’s small and delicate and beautiful, Natsu’s heart skips a beat. Or two. Or maybe three.

And why should he lie? Natsu has seen beautiful, quite a few varieties of it too. But this…this was different. This was unreal.

The boy looks around nervously before he catches something and there’s a spark in those hazel eyes, sharp and electric, a smile tugging at his lips.

Natsu follows his gaze. On the stage lies his own guitar—a pre-performance habit for people to know he was next. He took great pride because this itself garnered more clusters than anyone in the entire house.

Natsu smiles. So he was a fan.

He downs the customary shot of vodka, waving at the people before hopping on stage and wrapping the sling around his neck. He scours the audience for a familiar face and it doesn’t take a lot, to spot a splatter of ink black in the crowd, batting eager eyelids at him. The smaller boy realises the attention on him and glances behind to confirm his suspicion.

By the time he swings around, eyes blown wide in a stare, Natsu plays the first chord.

In an instant, his expression shifts to a mix of awe and interest, a silent worship and a loud cheer compiled in one small, thin body. He claps more than anyone else in the room, beaming like a floodlight by the time Natsu finishes.

It was nothing strange. He played among cheers every day but none felt as satisfying with this voice hooting and clearly standing out from his regular gang of squealing girls. He throws his head back laughing back stage when no one is there to see.

By the time Natsu gets out on the floor again, a little more thrilled for the night and dressed in something less flashy, he’s gone. He screws his lips in displeasure and asks his friend to make him something stronger than the usual.

This happens more nights than not, and it was frustrating him.

The moment Angel boy—as he’s dubbed him, steps in through the door, Natsu traces his every move and quickly registers a pattern. He only comes around on days the club was the busiest—specifically during Natsu’s performance, talks to no one and leaves before he has the chance to even ask a name.

Not that Natsu was interested in him or anything. He was just curious, is all—why this boy looked like a starved pet every time he saw him on stage and if he really smelled like soft winter blankets and warm fireplaces, all angelic and pure.

Okay, so maybe he was a little interested.

Months pass like that.

The mid-November chill comes with its blistering snowstorms and the club is jam packed—winters were some of their busiest months—and Natsu’s up to perform. Instead of preparing, he watches the door resolutely from the bar, tapping impatiently at the table.

As routine, it barely opens a crack, and he sees a sliver of ebony snaking it’s way through the crowd. The boy stands on his tippy-toes which don’t give him much of a view, so he does these tiny jumps—that are so adorable, for a second Natsu forgets his own name—and scowls when he notices no guitar on stage.

He checks the time, the stage and then scans the crowd. The anticipation throbs through Natsu as he follows his eyes cross the room in slow motion, dragging dragging until they eventually land on him. Everything stills—the thundering music, the singing and all he can hear is the low thump of veins against his skin.

It’s over in a flash.

“That your Angel boy?” The bartender gestures at the figure turning tail and running, drying the pad on his prized work station. He skillfully pours two coloured liquids into an oddly shaped glass and passes it over the counter to him.

Natsu hums, swirling the absinthe stained drink in hand, eyeing the smaller boy gasp as a couple slams against the door, clearly piss drunk with her suspended over his thighs and gyrating her hips into the man.

“Hey, chief.”

“Hm?”

“You think I can get off early tonight?”

The man raises an eyebrow. “Like when?”

“Like now.” Natsu answers, never letting his gaze falter from the head full of black hair slowly receding through the crowd, horrified.

The man guffaws, lifting a glass of water—since he can’t drink on duty—and clinking it with Natsu’s.

“Must be fuckin’ Christmas if you’re taking interest in anyone, so I’ll let this one pass. Don’t scare him off now. He already looks like a trembling lamb.”

Natsu knocks back the contents, swallowing the liquid till it numbs his entire mouth and smirks.

“I’ll try.”

So he follows the boy. Hands are immediately all over him from faces he recognises in passing—a girl he once kissed, someone that made him cake, but he pushes them off.

His boy of interest forces the hood of his shirt up all the way, and glances behind him once before increasing his pace. Maybe the lights are really getting to him and maybe Natsu is a little tipsy when he reaches out to grab his hand.

The boy flips around to lock eyes frantically, as if a ghost had seized him.

“Hey.” Natsu musters his sweetest smile.

“Hi..” The boy replies.

And oh, his voice. It’s sugary sweet and so so soft like—like actual rolls of smooth and silky cotton had woven them. He blushes fiercely under Natsu’s relentless gaze and stares where their hands were connected in a tight grip as if it burned holes through him.

Natsu frowns. “Don’t run.”

The boy’s gaze shoots up, and he’s pulling away.

“I-I’m sorry I really h-have to go—”

“It’s my birthday.” Goddamn, he must be really wasted to admit that. Now that he thinks about it, what did he just drink?

Twentieth November, the day he was born and incidentally also the day he found his father’s tongue down another woman’s throat, holding a child over his shoulder.

“Oh,” The boy stops, pursing his lips and letting the hood go all the way down before flashing easily one of the most ethereal smiles Natsu has ever seen.

“Happy birthday.”

“Thanks,” he replies awkwardly. “It’s not going really well.”

“No?”

Natsu nods. “It’s nothing different.”

“You want it to be special?”

The buzz in his nerves practically screamed a yes to that—he wanted something to remember, to bury the horrible memories he associated with this day, for the days he wished he was never born in the first place. He wanted to fit it all in this one boy in one night, this angel he didn’t even know, to free him from himself.

Natsu tightens his grip. “Dance with me?”

Oh boy, the alcohol was talking.

Angel boy looks at Natsu with wide doe eyes, peers back at their hands and gulps. Natsu frowns and releases his hold. He was drunk, probably a little more than he’d admit to, but he didn’t want to pressurize anyone—not when this boy already looked so out of his element, a beige hoodie and skinny jeans in a club full of scantily clad folk.

But he reverses the roles, grabbing Natsu by the fingers so delicately, he releases a soft hum of satisfaction. He rubs fingers between his own, feeling the brush of calloused fingertips on them. It reminds him of mom’s soft chest rising and falling when she slept beside him because he was her ‘perfect little angel’ and made him feel safe.

He misses it. Misses being safe. Misses being loved.

“Okay,” the boy mumbles, peering from under his natural hood of hair with a light smile. “Okay. Let’s dance.”

Natsu doesn’t really know what he’s doing anymore. The lights blink and they’re suddenly in stop motion. It tricks his brain into thinking of them as pictures trapped some place in his brain forever. So he stares and stares and captures the blush spreading like wildfire across the boy’s face, a smile widening in tandem with the soft beats.

They’re two faces among a thousand on a random winter night. The music isn’t his type nor is his attire anything to be proud of. But this boy. Holy heavens, if he isn’t the prettiest thing ever then the stars should be ashamed because damn, he’d beat them even on a bad day.

His hair sways—a steady swing of left right left right and a pleasant smile sits snug on his features like that’s where they belonged, that’s where they had always belonged and Natsu closes his eyes when their hands meet again.

This is perfect.

It’s when the music stills that they transition to a slower lull of movement, and the blaze of liquor in his blood emboldens him into yanking the boy a little closer. He lets him fall with a small plop on his chest and laughs when he rubs his nose, scowling.

“Why do you never wait back?” He asks, exhaling at the warmth the boy’s presence brings. Natsu puts his hand around his waist and he swears, it was like he wasn’t human, like someone had sculpted him out of clay, moulded to near perfection. And maybe he’s treading into dangerous waters, but his mouth had a mind of its own and there’s nothing he could do to stop it.

“I always look for you after I’m done but you’re never here.”

Pair of hazelnut eyes sheepishly peer at him.

“I’m sorry. I’m just.… not good at socializing.”

“So you say,” Natsu laughs, “But you’re doing better than me.”

“No way!”

“Yes way.”

“You have to be kidding me you’re so cool—and and so beautiful I really cannot—since the beginning I haven’t been able to take my eyes off—”

He squeaks when he's dragged closer by the small of his back. Their eyes meet. Natsu sees flashes of every happy moment of his life mirrored in them; His first recital, mom’s naturally loud laugh, the first time he played the guitar. They reach into Natsu’s soul and drag out his joy like the reel of a kite.

“I thought you were an angel,” he chuckles so close, he feels the boy shiver against his cheek. “I still do. Everyone here calls you Angel boy. Score a drink from them with that name sometime. I’m sure they’ll oblige you.”

“Angel? I—” He breathes a giggle, twisting silver strands with his fingers. “If there’s any angel here, it’s you.”

But this is fake, he wants to say. It’s fake, artificial, made of desperation because he never wants to look into the mirror and see his father’s face staring back at him. He won’t be him. He won’t.

“Atsumu,” he says. “My name is Atsumu.”

“Atsumu.” Natsu repeats in his head till it rolls naturally over his tongue. Like Atsu meaning heat and summer and everything bright and cheery.

Natsu purposefully lingers near his ear, to breathe his name in the air, smiling, content.

“ ‘Tsumu. It’s cute,” he hums. “You’re cute.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Definitely.” He chuckles.

Atsumu whispers, low and uneasy. “C-can I ask you something?”

“Mhmm.” At this point, his voice gave him a greater high than the drink he had downed fifteen minutes ago. Or was it an hour? He couldn’t really tell and decided very quickly he didn’t care, anyway.

“Why don’t you.. come to school?”

Natsu’s eyes open a crack to glimpse at the boy who trembles softly under him, as if he were admitting to a crime.

“I—” he continues in alarm, “I swear I’m not a stalker I just—Oh my god please don’t misunderstand me—”

“Calm down.” Natsu shushes, smiling apologetically at the few people around him that had been torn out of their aggressive make-out session as if they weren’t the ones that needed a room. God, if he sees another dick hanging out, he’ll have to bust out the chainsaw in the basement and go wild.

“So,” he leads them to a quieter corner with very few people and lesser eyes their way. “School,” he waves a hand dismissively, “It’s boring. Lots of people. Annoying questions. You know the drill.”

“Right,” he gulps. “Right so, I’m uhh—in your class I don’t think you noticed and I’m from an instrument club and someone asked us a question. Something about erotic sounds—wait that sounds bad—not erotic erotic but.…Ah, I’m bad at explaining.”

Natsu doesn’t keep back the dreamy giggle that leaves him, swaying lightly to the music. He’s exactly as he imagined—hell, even his name was spot on—all warm and giggly and fluttery.

“I’m still listening,” Natsu smiles. “Go on.”

Atsumu scrunches his nose and continues. “So one of my club seniors—he comes of a little rough but he’s really nice—went to one of my other seniors house who I think he really likes, and her mother told him it’s—I’m sorry am I too confusing?”

“I think I can manage.”

“Okay, so basically, her mother says it’s the pause in between his words and actions. The space that is just…there. And so I was writing about it—because I write everything—and Oka-kun saw my book.”

Natsu scowls. “Oka is annoying like that.”

The boy giggles this time. “Funny. He said you’d say that.”

“It’d be nice if he attempted to change it, then.”

“And so he told me you play music, where you work and that maybe you could do something good for once—I didn’t say that he did—So…” He moves his hand vaguely around them. “Here I am.”

Natsu hums against his head, bringing him to a slower pace as the song changes.

“I’ll have to thank him for that.”

“You’re not..angry?” He says through furrowed brows. “Oka-kun said you would be if you found out.”

He’s certain if Oka showed up here uninvited, Natsu would promptly kick him out. Because Oka is annoying. Atsumu however….

“So? Did you get your answer?” He asks instead.

The smaller boy makes a face, pulling all his features in to make his button nose stand out more than it already does and pout.

Natsu laughs. He’s been doing a lot of that today. Laughing.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“Don’t get me wrong! Your performances are splendid and I really can’t get enough of them but the answer…I still haven’t reached a conclusion.”

Natsu plays with the fingers in his hand, shuffling to let them sink into the gap between his. Atsumu stares and responds by shyly tucking his fingers in.

“Want me to help you?” He whispers, tapping the side of Atsumu’s waist with his other hand.

“Can you?” He whispers back.

Can he? Yes. Should he? Probably not.

But what use is logic anyway, when a boy the embodiment of a sunny summer day amid a bitter winter stood enclosed in his arms?

Yeah. To hell with logic.

Natsu sways his hips, raking his free hand through Atsumu’s hair. He releases a pleased sigh when the tiny fingers between his tighten as if it were the only thing anchoring him to reality, which was good. Natsu felt the same, like his sanity was slowly slipping through open fingers.

“Spaces…exist everywhere. In words, in voices, in time…” He draws their joined hands to his mouth, dragging wet lips over porcelain skin. Atsumu shudders, breathing in sharp, shallow exhales.

“These hands..there’s a space in between them too if you look carefully. We’re so close,” fingers tighten around his shirt. “But still never close enough.

He runs a palm down the boy’s face that angles and angles till plush, red lips are within kissing distance. They part and blow warm clouds of air that taste mint and chocolate in his mouth. Natsu smiles. “Space is where there is distance. Space is where there is intimacy. Space is where there is friction. And this exciting gap that keeps us wanting to be closer till not even an atom could squeeze in—” he leans in closer, “—is erotic.”

He backs away while he has the physical capacity to do so, before the alcohol overrides every decision in his head and they end up a tangled mess of limbs in some random hotel room, but Atsumu having none of it.

He pulls Natsu to himself, clutching the pleats of his shirt and tugging him down to his lips. Teeth knock loudly against each other and Natsu hisses lightly, parting to lick the tingle in the tip of his incisor away.

“S-sorry!” Atsumu covers his embarrassment behind shaky hands. Natsu wraps thin fingers under his chin, reeling him in slow and steady and closes the distance. It’s soft, like a snowflake on a tree, virgin snow settling on frozen water and ironically, melts him. It boils and freezes, ignites his soul into a firework of bursting flames. He’s touching, feeling, pulling until every inhale feels like fire in his lungs.

“Closer,” Atsumu murmurs, throwing nimble hands over his shoulder and locking their lips together like puzzle pieces on a gameboard. “Make the space go away.”

It’s chaotic, and it’s magical. Like every star in the galaxy twinkled around them tonight, like every blossoming flower settled wherever Atsumu touched him. He’s drunk on vodka, drunk on happiness, drunk on love.

Closer. Natsu pushes a knee in between his thighs. His mouth hangs open in a silent moan, eyes slowly rolling into the back of his head.

Closer. The hands in his air pull him in for another searing kiss, pressing for entry, to delve deeper, deeper into themselves. Atsumu nibbles lightly on his lip and Natsu lets him bruise him for tonight. To wreck him, destroy him.

Closer.

They settle for a slower casual rhythm when they part to breathe. He keeps them moving on the floor, smiling against a pair of swollen lips.

“School suddenly sounds much more interesting.” He says.

Atsumu squints incredulously. “We can’t do this at school.”

“No?”

“No!”

Natsu shrugs, pecking the tip of the boy’s nose. “Shame.”

“Then you’ll come?” Atsumu bumps his forehead against Natsu’s. “I’ll really see you tomorrow?”

“If you can walk home straight after tonight, then sure.”

Atsumu gasps and slaps him across the back, blushing as they leave the club, hand in hand, away into the wintery night.

Natsu turns sixteen—a little drunk, a lot happy—but he’s sixteen and he can pinpoint this as the day he falls in love even years later.

And every other birthday is insignificant but so much better, spent at home, in the arms of the boy that saved him in just one night, all those years ago.

Mom only ever asks where he’s going and who he’s moving in with while he packs his bags to leave. She frowns when he answers with the widest smile on his face, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“An Angel.”

Ignore the sloppy writing haha. I'm writing this while travelling back home after a god awful six hour exam.

It felt too plotless to post on my ao3 kdkcd—

If you look at the colouring of Natsu I based it on (go give @sasukeslove all the real love), I imagine the art as the morning after when Oka's annoying Natsu and Atsumu walks in through the door (≧▽≦)

[sept-dix]

first snow (heeseung)

summary: you make a promise to confess to heeseung on the day of the first snowfall warnings: slight slight angst at certain parts (๑ ˊ͈ ᐞ ˋ͈ )ƅ̋ wc: 2.2k a/n: for holiday hearts; this turned out to be a little longer than i intended but i’m not mad about it ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ (belated) merry christmas and an (early) happy new year to everyone! <3

❄️❄️❄️

“on the day of the first snowfall, we confess. okay?”

jake’s eyes are wide open as he looks at you, his hand gripping your arm tightly from where he is sitting beside you on your bedroom floor. he’s serious about this, you can tell, but you can’t help but sigh at his proposition.

“jake, are you sure about this? it could literally snow tomorrow. would you be able to confess tomorrow?”

“yes! i would! and you should too! what’s stopping you?”

well. what’s stopping you is the thought of your best friend hearing your confession and then looking at you like you’re crazy. that’s how it always goes down in your imagination—you confess, heeseung freezes, and then he looks at you like you’re insane before turning you down gently.

you always picture him to have a slight look of pity in his eyes when he hears your confession—a look that says i wish i liked you too, but i don’t. that look from your imagination is what’s stopping you.

one day you’re going to turn around and dropkick the infuriating little voice in your head that always comes up with the worst possible scenarios for you in any given situation.

“it’s okay, y/n. it’ll turn out just fine, trust me.” jake says, as if reading your mind.

and as much as you fear the possibility of rejection, it’s even harder to live everyday wondering what could be if only you were that much braver.

“fine. but only if you confess to her first. text me that you’ve confessed, and then i’ll do it.”

“deal!” jake’s entire face lights up as you give in. “besides, they say if you confess on the day of the first snow, the two of you will stay together for a long, long time.”

❄️❄️❄️

you spend majority of the next week making sure that you’re always in view of a window, eyes anxiously looking out at even the slightest hints of movement outside in case it’s a snowflake falling. you spend the rest of the time with your eyes trained on your phone, afraid that somehow snow had fallen and you hadn’t noticed and jake had texted you that he had confessed to his crush and you would be up next.

luckily for you, neither of those things happen.

in fact, the only notification you get on your phone is a text from heeseung himself.

just stole my brother’s netflix account. wanna come watch smth?

hanging out with heeseung on his couch, his feet on your lap as you give him the stinky eye for having his stinky feet so close to your nose, both of you laughing at the low-budget horror film that’s playing on the tv—none of this feels new to you.

actually, it’s the farthest thing from new. the both of you have been best friends for years now, and you like to think you know almost everything there is to know about him by now. spending time with heeseung feels like the easiest thing to do.

“is there something on my face?” heeseung asks, launching a popcorn at your head. “why are you staring at me like that?”

but of course, nothing is actually easy when your best friend is oblivious and you like him and you don’t know when it’s going to start snowing or what you’re going to say once it does.

“i’m not,” you reply, although you quite obviously are.

you push his feet off of your lap as he aims another popcorn at you. “get your stinky feet off my lap, for god’s sake.”

“hey, hey, don’t bring god into this.” he sits upright and scoots next to you on the couch. the both of you turn your attention back to the film before he speaks again, his eyes not leaving the screen.

“anyway, what are you doing on christmas eve?”

“nothing much. dinner with my family, i think. what about you?”

heeseung takes a moment to answer, his eyes trained on the television so closely that for a second, you think he hasn’t heard your reply and is actually back to watching the film.

in that same second you also wonder if maybe he’ll ask you to spend the evening with him instead, but you stuff that thought back where it came from before you start forming any real hope.

“yeah, i think i’m spending it with my family, too.” he finally answers, and as if on cue, the girl from the horror movie lets out a horrifying scream.

❄️❄️❄️

jake sends you a screenshot of the weather report the next week. it reads: first snow of the season expected to fall today. total snow accumulation predicted to be 2 to 5 inches.

“prepare your confession speech,” he texts you. “we have to do it today.”

somewhere in the back of your mind you wonder why jake is being so dramatic about all of this. if he was so ready to confess, he could just do it now instead of waiting for snowfall. or maybe he just really believed in that “if you confess on the day of the first snow you’ll last longer” theory.

either way, The Confession was fast approaching and you have yet to come up with a concrete plan about how you’re going to confess. you have been actively trying to avoid thinking about it for the sole reason that every time you do, that nasty voice in the back of your head begins pushing you down a spiral of anxiety. but not thinking about it is just making you nervous in its own way.

so naturally, to take your mind off heeseung, you text heeseung.

twenty minutes later he’s on your chair, aimlessly rolling around your room as you lie on your bed.

“what do you wanna do?”

“i don’t know, anything. i’m so bored.”

“me too. my brother changed his netflix password so i can’t use his account anymore.”

you chuckle, turning your head to face him. he looks absolutely breathtaking in his hoodie, the soft pink hue of the fabric a charming contrast against the rich colour of his skin.

“let’s come up with new year’s resolutions for the new year.” you reply. it’s a conversation the two of you have together almost every year-end, and you want to know what is on heeseung’s mind this time.

“hm… okay, the first one for me is to exercise regularly. i’m gonna be swole this time next year.”

you snort. “isn’t that what you said last year?”

heeseung can’t help but laugh at that, but his tone is indignant as he replies. “this time it’s for real!!!”

“fine, fine, what’s your next one?”

“next one… would be to learn how to play the guitar?”

you nod at this-unfortunately you can’t bring yourself to tease a music prodigy about his love for music.

“that’s nice. you’ll have to play for me once you learn.”

you stare up at the ceiling, wondering what your new year’s resolution should be. you wonder vaguely if heeseung will still be by your side to have this same conversation with you next year.

“actually, i have one last one,” heeseung says, rolling over languidly to your table to fiddle with the stationery you have strewn all over the tabletop. “i’m going to confess to my crush next year.”

you freeze. his crush?

“you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” heeseung says, giggling softly at the expression on your face. “what’s so shocking about that?”

“your crush? you never told me you had someone you liked,” you say, unable to keep the tone of surprise and slight betrayal out of your voice.

this changes everything, doesn’t it? if heeseung has someone he likes, you can’t just confess knowing that he definitely does not return your feelings. your mind is going a mile per minute, and all you can do is sit and stare at heeseung, who looks as gorgeous as always as he doodles absentmindedly on your notebook.

“i do,” he replies quietly, a small smile on his face as he looks up at you. wow, he must really like whoever it is if just the mention of them makes him smile like this. “you know this person, too!”

great.

“who…—” but before you can finish your question, heeseung suddenly gasps as his eyes widen almost comically, peering out of the window that is directly above your desk.

“y/n! look!” heeseung says, parting the curtains fully and gesturing you to come over. “it’s snowing!!!”

oh my god. it’s like the snow gods are laughing at you.

you make your way over and watch with your mouth open as the snowflakes twirl and fall, softly piling up upon one another on the concrete pavement. it isn’t heavy, and the snow on the ground is quickly melting, but there’s no denying that it is, in fact, snowing. the one damn time the weather forecast is right and it’s for this.

“it really is snowing,” you mumble, leaning closer out the window to get a better look.

“this is so pretty! do you think we’ll get a white christmas this year?” heeseung presses up against the window right beside you, turning to look at you with an expectant look in his eyes. lee heeseung, whose eyes sparkle at the mere thought of it snowing on the most festive day of the year. your heart squeezes painfully in your chest.

honestly, you think to yourself. just because he likes someone else doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to tell him what you feel, right? you don’t expect anything back from him, you could just follow through on your promise with jake and get it off your chest and continue with life as per normal. heeseung wouldn’t be weird about it-he’s heeseung.

“y/n?” heeseung asks, waving an unsure hand in front of you. “is everything okay?”

there’s a confused smile on his face, and his warm brown eyes look concerned as they search yours.

“heeseung, i think i have something to tell you.”

“suddenly?” his brows furrow in confusion. “you can tell me anything, you know. what is it?”

“i know you just said there’s someone else you like, and i know this seems like it’s out of the blue, but i have someone i really like too.”

heeseung’s eyes widen just a fraction, but he maintains his expression. “what? who is it?”

you take an unsteady breath. there’s no turning back now.

“it’s you, heeseung.”

“…it’s me?”

“you don’t have to say anything. i know you already like someone else, i’m just confessing because i made a pact with jake. we can just forget what i said and move o—”

“a pact with jake???” heeseung looks confused, his mind racing to keep up with your words.

“yeah, we had a promise. it’s nothing big, actually, it was something about the snow and. never mind, i shouldn’t ha—”

you cut yourself off when you suddenly feel heeseung’s hands on either side of your face. his hands are warm, slightly rough because it’s the winter and he never uses hand cream even when you tell him too.

“you don’t get to confess and then just move on like that,” he says, his face a mere few inches away from yours as he turns to face you.

“aren’t you going to ask me who the person i like is?” he asks, and your mind goes blank. what does it matter who he likes now? when you’ve just confessed to him?

he sighs slightly at your silence. “i thought i was being fairly obvious. it’s you, y/n. i was going to confess to you in the new year.” he smiles unsteadily as he says this, eyes sparkling the same way it did at the mention of a white christmas earlier. “now stop looking so upset, i just told you i like you, too.”

he pats your cheek playfully as his smile widens, watching in amusement at the shock on your face.

you had come up with a hundred different ways in which this could have ended, but none of your scenarios ever looked like this. suddenly the heat from his hands on the sides of your face feels a bit too warm.

“really? are you sure?”

“of course i’m sure, y/n! why wouldn’t i be sure?” he asks with a soft chuckle. “i’ve felt this way for the longest time now.”

for the longest time now. your stomach does a funny flip at the words, your heart stuttering as the reality of the situation dawns upon you.

you confessed and lee heeseung confessed right back. lee heeseung likes you and he says he’s sure about it.

everything’s falling into place, just like the soft, white flakes finding a home on the broad, sturdy branches of the oak tree outside.

maybe jake is right-something about the first snow really does feel magical.

(the moment is broken by the violent buzzing of your phone from where it is on your bed.

jake: y/n look out it’s snowing!!!

jake: it’s time!!!

jake: wait actually i’m not sure about this

jake: i don’t even know where she is right now

jake: i’m scared. this is scarier than i thought

jake:

jake: y/n are u there???)

[peggyrose19]

Exile

This is an idea I got a while back and just now finally had the energy/time to sit and write it! I had a really fun time with it actually, it may be one of my favorite things I’ve ever written. Inspired by Taylor Swift and Bon Iver’s song Exile. Bet you can guess what’s coming :)

It’s angst! My favorite. This song gives me very big war era Wolfstar vibes, so of course that’s what you’re getting. This is a period of time between them I’ve never explored before so it was really fun to figure out their interactions and how they’d act around each other. Y’know, based off the approximately three nuggets of canon and ten million pieces of fanon I’ve consumed. 

I am doing a part 2 to this. That will be up at some point probably. 

cw: blood and death mentions

Remus couldn’t recall the exact moment everything changed. In fact, he wasn’t sure there even was one. But he could remember the day he realized, the day everything crumbled around him in shards on the floor. Everything was fine until it wasn’t and by then only he was left to pick up the pieces. 

He woke up alone the morning before the October full moon. 1981. The war had gotten nasty by then. So many people were gone, were terrified to even leave their houses. Nothing was the same anymore. 

That morning when Remus awoke was a cold one. Typical for October, but Remus was always cold. He reached out a hand; the other side of the bed had gone cold too. Shit. Frowning, Remus sat up. Shivering in the cool air, he climbed out of bed, wincing at the ice cold floor. He pulled a jumper on as he headed for the kitchen, following the smell of coffee through the narrow hallway. 

“Sirius?” he called out, entering the dim-light kitchen and looking around. The dark-haired man was nowhere to be seen. “Sirius?” 

A fresh pot of coffee sat on the counter, a mug and a piece of paper beside it. Remus read the note first, stomach sinking. He recognized Sirius’ messy scrawl. Got called out for a quick mission, I’ll be back for dinner. Left the coffee for you. Love you.

He sighed. “Of course.” 

With a resolute breath, Remus poured himself a mug from the spelled-warm pot and got started on his work for the day.

It was becoming a common occurrence these days, waking to an empty bed or being called away himself. It seemed something was always happening, another disaster, another death. They rarely made it through a whole night undisturbed now. Remus was so tired. He kept hoping and waiting for a moment of peace, a moment of rest, but it never seemed to come. War didn’t sleep.

When Sirius got home that night it was after dinner. 

“Where have you been?” Remus asked when the door had safely been shut behind him and Sirius was shedding off his coat. Exhaustion hung in his face, his body. His grey eyes were dull, lacking the playful light they’d always held at school.

“Mission,” he replied tiredly, crossing to join Remus on the couch. It was a sad, threadbare thing but it was theirs. “You know I can’t say anything, certainly not here.” He plopped down with a sigh, leaning into Remus, and that’s when Remus knew just how tough the day had been for him. 

“You alright, love?” he asked quietly, running a soft hand through his dark locks.

“No,” Sirius answered honestly, voice raw. He buried his face in Remus’ shoulder, the soft wool of his jumper warm and comforting.

Remus sighed and held him closer. They’d done this so many times. Comforting each other, holding each other tight as their world destroyed itself around them. Nothing ever seemed to get better. Nothing seemed to help. 

“D’you want to talk about it?” he asked. As usual, Sirius shook his head. He never wanted to talk about it. Remus was never sure if he couldn’t or if he refused to. “How ‘bout a movie?” he offered instead. 

“Alright.” 

Silently, Remus switched the tv on, turning it to their usual channel, and let it play, volume low. Sirius huddled closer, pulling the blankets over them both, eyes downcast.

“Pads?” Remus asked after a while. Sirius shifted.

“Yeah?”

“Are you going to be here tomorrow night?”

Sirius looked up. “Of course. I would never leave you alone like that.”

“Promise?”

As Sirius looked at him, eyes bright and fierce, Remus felt like he was a kid again, looking up at his best friend as he vowed to never leave. He was back in their dorm room, curtains pulled tight around his bed as Sirius sat beside him and reassured him everything would be okay, promising to be there in the morning.

“I promise,” he vowed, echoing the words of so many years ago. 

It eased his heart, to hear the words again, to know that no matter what else happened, Sirius would always be by his side. That much at least would never change. 

Remus waited impatiently in the forest, knowing what was about to happen. It had been spelled with numerous muggle-repelling charms and protective measures, but they did nothing to ease the churning in his gut. That couldn’t be helped by anything. He was used to that by now.

As the sun fell lower in the sky, the forest darkening around him, Remus felt worse and worse. It was nearly time. So where was Sirius?

“Remus? Remus!” the panicked voice broke through the haze in his mind. The first thing he registered was the warm ground beneath him and a heavy weight above him.

“Sirius?”

“Yeah, I’m here. I’m here.” Remus willed his eyes open, taking in the hazy outline of Sirius leaning over him. Beyond him the sky was pink, trees reaching tall. It was dawn. Sirius sighed in relief. “You alright?”

“Fine,” Remus grunted, forcing himself into a seating position. Sirius followed, tracking his movement carefully. “You weren’t here last night.”

Regret filled Sirius’ gaze. “I know, I’m sorry. I was called out on-”

“Another mission, yeah.”

Bitterness crept into his voice as he pushed himself to his feet, Sirius helping him up. “You promised.”

Sirius sighed, running a rough hand over his face. “I know, I’m sorry. There was… there was nothing I could do. I’m so sorry Moons.”

In that moment Remus couldn’t help but feel resentful. Towards Dumbledore, towards Voldemort and his Death Eaters, even towards Sirius. And suddenly he couldn’t do it anymore, couldn’t stand before this man he loved so much and just pretend everything was okay. He didn’t have it in him anymore.

“I’m going home.” 

Without another word, Remus brushed off Sirius’ hand and Apparated, knowing it was stupid and doing it anyways. It was pure stubbornness that got him to the front door of their flat in one piece. His whole body ached, only made worse by the journey, but he didn’t have it in him to care. He just staggered to the bathroom and turned the shower on, stripping off his torn clothes and stepping in before the water even warmed. 

It was ice cold against his skin but he welcomed the bite, sharpening his senses and washing away the drowsiness. The water grew warmer as Remus grabbed a bar of soap and scrubbed at his skin, dirt and blood washing the water dark red. He winced at a particularly bad gash on his arm, but cleaned it out efficiently, well used to the pain. 

As he washed the last bits of soap from his hair, Remus heard the front door close and knew Sirius had come home. He sighed to himself, staying in the shower a moment longer, hating himself for hiding and unwilling to leave. 

“Remus?” Sirius called out, and he knew he’d have to face the music.

“Give me a minute,” he shouted back, and reluctantly turned the water off. Cold air hit him as soon as he pulled the shower curtain back, exhaustion sweeping through his body now that the adrenaline was fading and the warmth was gone. Shivering, he toweled off and pulled on the clean set of clothes he’d grabbed before. The apartment was eerily quiet.

With quiet feet, Remus made his way to the living room, finding Sirius on the couch with a book. He wasn’t reading it, Remus knew instantly, but only pretending to, eyes flitting over the page half-hazardly. 

“Sirius?” he said hesitantly, although he knew the man had heard him come down the hallway.

He turned, looking at Remus searchingly. “We need to talk.”

“Do we?” Remus sighed, but he went and sat down on the couch beside him, fighting the longing and fear battling in his chest. 

“Yes. Remus, you walked away from me!” 

“Technically I Apparated,” Remus muttered, and the corners of Sirius’ mouth twitched upward. He fought them down.

“Re-”

“You weren’t there,” Remus interrupted. “You weren’t there. And you promised you would be. I know-” he held up a hand- “it wasn’t your fault. I know that now. But I didn’t last night. Sirius, I had no way of knowing if you were okay or not. I didn’t know if you were still alive or if…” he swallowed hard. “Or if you were dead. I knew nothing. I needed you and you weren’t there and I didn’t know where you were.”

Sirius squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. When he opened them once more, Remus could see the pain lingering there, the anger simmering just beneath the surface. That anger had once made Remus fall in love with him. These days it was aimed at him as a broken cry for help, helpless words shouted to the walls as if it would bring their innocence back. 

“Sirius,” Remus sighed before he could say anything. He just wanted to sleep. “Can we not? Please? I’m so sick of fighting with you, we do this every time. You get a mission and you leave and you come back worse than before. And I can’t do it anymore. You promised me. You said we’d be okay, you said-”

“I know!” Sirius shouted, and the sound startled Remus. “I know I did,” he said, quieter. “And I one hundred percent meant it. I didn’t ask for this, okay? I didn’t ask to be sent on mission, I didn’t ask for this fucking war to happen! Alright? I just…” All the fight seemed to drain out of him. “I love you. So much. And I just want to keep you, keep us, safe.” 

“I know you do,” Remus said quietly. 

“Look,” Sirius sighed frustratedly. “Can we just get some rest? C’mon, you’ve been up all night, I know how the moons drain you. You need sleep.”

Remus contemplated. He knew it was never good to go to bed angry, but he couldn’t keep doing this. “Okay.”

They got ready for bed silently, dancing around each other the way they normally did, a comfortable ease settling over them. It was nice, to have that reassurance. Even with everything they still knew each other. 

When Remus climbed into bed, Sirius silently threw another blanket over him, smoothing out the wrinkles before crawling in beside him.

“G’night Moons,” Sirius whispered.”

“Night Pads.”

For once they both slept through the night.

The next two weeks passed without incident for the pair. More battles were fought, more lives were lost. Remus and Sirius went about their days, waking early and making coffee together, kissing in the bathroom while they brushed their teeth, disappearing on missions alone and coming back bloody and haunted. 

With each passing day, Sirius slipped further from Remus’ grasp. They fought more and more often, over stupid petty things and big life-changing events that had no good outcomes. And with each passing day Remus wished more and more they could go back to school, to the days of not understanding what war meant or what love was. He wanted that happiness back, the blissfulness and eagerness that came with first crushes and being a teenager. He wondered if he’d ever feel that again. 

The morning of October 31st, Remus woke up alone, cold beneath the blankets. He found a note in the kitchen, saying Sirius had to go out and would be back by nightfall, and a fresh pot of coffee made just the way he liked it. 

He left the coffee. 

There was no work to do that day, no mission to go on or paperwork to fill out or letters to write. There was nothing and no one to fight the silence that crept in. So Remus settled on the couch with a book and stared at the pages for long hours as the clock ticked and the sun rose beyond the walls of his living room. 

It was nearing nighttime when a knock on the door shook Remus from his stupor. With a heavy sigh, he stood and went to answer it. He blinked.

“Professor.” In the doorway stood Albus Dumbledore, dressed in his typical flowing robes and a grim look on his face. 

“Hello Mr. Lupin. I’m so sorry to burst in like this. May I come in.”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, of course, come in.”

“Thank you.” Dumbledore settled at the kitchen table, piercing eyes following Remus as he stood across from him. 

“Why are you here?” Remus asked bluntly. His opinion of his old Headmaster had lessened with each passing month. 

“I'm afraid I have some bad news.” Remus sighed internally. It was never good news these days. “I’m sorry Mr. Lupin. But they’re gone. James and Lily, Peter… and Sirius.”

“What.”

For the first time in his life, Dumbledore seemed uncomfortable. “Mr. Black betrayed us.”

“No.” Remus shook his head. “No, no he wouldn’t.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Lupin. But he did. He’s being taken to Azkaban now.”

Remus stared at Dumbledore for a long time. For long silent minutes, he just stared, disbelief and anger and pain filling him to the core. Dumbledore’s words hit him to the core, his worst nightmare suddenly brought to life in a cruel twist of fate. He felt his knees buckle, felt himself hit the ground, The pain didn’t register. 

He hadn’t seen this coming. Hadn’t looked hard enough, had been blindsided by his own damn love for a traitor. He couldn’t find the words to demand what happened, couldn’t find them even in his own head. They were all gone. And now he was alone.

He should have seen the signs. 

~

Iron doors clanged shut behind Sirius. He barely heard the sound. It echoed faintly in his ears, quiet over the ringing in his mind. Too loud was the silence, the rough wind from the dementors circling his cell. Too loud were his thoughts, falling deeper and deeper with each passing moment. 

He was alone again. Trapped in the darkness. There was no one left out there, no one to save him here. And there was no saving himself, not this time. 

James, Lily, Harry, all gone. Peter. Remus. 

Voldemort. Regulus. Peter. 

Remus. 

Peter. 

He should have seen the signs.

[luninosity]

And - final @evanstanweek fic!

Prompt 7, “holidays,” this time...which, um...became International Talk Like A Pirate Day. And implied imminent sex, and piratical roleplay, and terrible, terrible jokes. And maybe something like a marriage proposal. 1,490 words, no warnings.

Read at AO3 here! Or here on tumblr below.

#

“Hey, Seb,” Chris says.

 Sebastian, lazily settled against Chris’s chest and halfway through reading a script for a potential upcoming Shakespeare adaptation, looks up and says, “For which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?”

 Chris laughs, and retorts with, “I do love nothing in the world so well as you,” because Chris knows Much Ado About Nothing decently well, too. “Know what day it is?”

 “Saturday?”

 “Yeah, but also International Talk Like A Pirate Day. Scott just sent me like ten terrible pirate jokes. What does a pirate use his cellphone for?”

 “Oh my god,” Sebastian says.

 “Booty calls.”

 “No.”

 “Come on, that was awesome. All of these…arrrr.”

 “I’ll divorce you,” Sebastian threatens, not seriously because he’s extremely comfortable right here in morning sunshine on the pillowy sofa with Chris at his back and Dodger draped over their feet.

 “You like terrible puns,” Chris says, “I know you do,” and then, “wait, we’re not even married!”

 “Exactly,” Sebastian retorts, with emphasis, and goes back to squabbling Shakespearean lovers.

 “You’re thinking about us being married.” Chris points a finger at him. “You love me. And the terrible puns.”

 “If you say anything about a Jolly Roger,” Sebastian says, “we’re not having sex for like a week.”

 “Can I ask if you’re prepared to be boarded?”

 Sebastian sighs, sits up, and kisses the love of his life, mostly because that’s always a good distraction. It works like a charm; Chris dives into kissing him and being kissed with every drop of enthusiasm that makes up that huge rainbow-hued exuberant heart.

 Kind of unfortunately, Sebastian’s head also briefly pictures Chris in a pirate’s hat. With a parrot.

 He resolutely ignores that image, and climbs into Chris’s lap, instead.

  Around lunchtime, Chris asks what he feels like as far as food. Sebastian opens his mouth, and then Chris says, “If we were pirates we could get barr-beque,” and Sebastian throws a couch-pillow at him.

 Chris apologizes for that one, though he’s laughing. Sebastian sighs.

 They get pizza, in the end.

  “Hey, Seb,” Chris says later, as they’re turning toward home, out with Dodger in the afternoon breeze, wandering around under trees like ruffled green dancers beneath a big blue sky.

 “Don’t you dare,” Sebastian says, hand held securely in Chris’s.

 “Why couldn’t the pirates play cards?”

 “Because the captain was standing on the deck,” Sebastian says.

 Chris’s whole face lights up. “You know that one?”

 Sebastian narrows eyes at him. “It was the logical answer!”

 “Why’re you anti-pirate?”

 “I’m actually not,” Sebastian says. “I’m kind of pro-pirate. Plundering, specifically. Getting, um, pillaged behind that tree.”

 “I love your ideas,” Chris agrees, and pushes him up against a friendly tree trunk and kisses him and gets hands all over him, pinning his wrists to tree-bark, sneaking under his shirt, pushing between Sebastian’s thighs, with Chris’s body large and hot and hard and adoring and pressed up against him. They make out in the woods until they’re both breathless and giddy and Sebastian’s about one caress away from coming in his pants, laughing, clinging to Chris, a leaf in his hair and mud on his boots, loving everything about his life.

  Chris kind of gives up on the talk-like-a-pirate day jokes, after that. Possibly this is because Sebastian’s distractions via sex have worked, or possibly not; either way, Chris seems apologetic about it, and even makes dinner, one of his mom’s cozy classic pasta recipes. He also opens a new bottle of decently expensive red wine Sebastian hadn’t known they had, and grabs the space-themed wineglass, the one etched with tiny stars.

 “I don’t mind your terrible pirate puns,” Sebastian says. Chris prefers beer, he knows.

 “Yeah, I know. I don’t know.” Chris shrugs. “Just felt like being nice to you.”

 “Why pirate day or whatever it is, again?”

 Chris shrugs again. “Just kinda fun? Random?”

 Sebastian considers Chris’s face, and the wineglass, and his own love. And then looks down at his toes, and tells Chris, “I’m wearing the wrong socks, then.”

 “Huh?”

 “Y’know, for the whole pirate thing. They should be, what…arrr-gyle?”

 “Oh my god,” Chris says, “I love you, I fucking love you, Seb.”

 “I might need more wine,” Sebastian says. “Especially if it’s from the…sand bar.” It’s the actual worst joke he’s ever made.

 Chris starts laughing so hard he has to grab the counter, and also Sebastian’s shoulder.

 Sebastian grins. Even his socks feel smug.

  They’re too full after pasta to do much about pillaging, so they flop down on the sofa and watch a documentary about Mars for a while. Chris gets a fire going, and the wind purrs outside, and Dodger’s snoring in his bed, and it’s so domestic and so perfect that Sebastian’s eyes get a little prickly and his heart feels a little shaky. Sometimes he still can’t believe it: being here, being part of Chris’s life. Himself, Sebastian Stan. Loved so deeply and so well.

 Because he loves Chris so damn much, he leans over to bite Chris’s shoulder. Chris grins and pets his hair, and even tugs slightly, because they both know how that dominance goes right to Sebastian’s head and stomach and happy cock; it does now, too, as usual.

 “You want me to do something about that,” Chris beckons, “maybe take care of you a little, if you’re needing some attention, Seb?” and his voice turns all low and rumbly and commanding, and fuck yeah, but:

 “One sec,” Sebastian announces, and hops up, and runs to their bedroom. He’s got a plan.

 He doesn’t have a whole lot that he can work with as far as costumes, pirates not having been a feature of most of his random daydreams, but he’s come up with a few ideas. A loose open white shirt, skinny black pants, a scarf tied around his waist. Some eyeliner. Some of his older jewelry, chunky extravagant rings and necklaces. He grins at himself in the mirror: some sort of haphazard pirate-steampunk-twink grins right back.

 He runs back out to the living room, where Chris is sitting up and being kind of puzzled, though that expression shifts the second Sebastian pops back in. Chris groans, “You’re just doing this to fuck with me, now, aren’t you…”

 “I was kind of hoping you’d be doing the fucking,” Sebastian says helpfully. “You know. On board with that. You can, um, come bury your…treasure…right here.”

 “Jesus,” Chris mutters, but he’s shaking his head, smiling, trying not to laugh. “Okay, okay, point made. Got it. Aye, captain. Or something.”

 “You’re right,” Sebastian says. “This is fun. Come claim my booty. Your booty. However that works. I’m all yours anyway.” He is. Body, heart, soul: everything he’s got, everything he is. He’s Chris’s.

 “I love you.” Chris gets up and comes over, hands settling on Sebastian’s shoulders, drawing him in close. “Where’d you find the scarf?”

 “It’s an old one. I thought maybe you could tie me up with it. Bend me over the bed—the railing, the captain’s bunk, whatever—and have your way with me.”

 “Are you the pirate, or am I?”

 “Maybe I’m your captive,” Sebastian considers. “You know, the dashing daring pirate adventurer that you keep chasing, good upright naval officer that you are, and you’ve finally caught me.”

 “And I’m about to do everything I can think of to you,” Chris jumps in. “Make you beg for mercy. Make you bend over for me, and spread those pretty legs. Make you take my cock, and like it.” His hand lifts Sebastian’s chin, fingers biting down: not too hard, and he’s grinning, eyes made of wicked loving conspiratorial blue. “That what you had in mind?”

 “Totally,” Sebastian says. “I mean, aye. Yarr. Yo, ho, ho, and rum, and all that. I think I like your holiday. Um. Chris?”

 “Yeah?” Chris’s thumb strokes his cheek, too gently for an angry naval officer. “Somethin’ you need, before I haul you off to my cabin?”

 “What I said earlier,” Sebastian says, “about being married to you…about us getting married…I mean, this isn’t me asking, it’ll be way more perfect whenever that happens, don’t worry, but…I just wanted to say…yeah. I do think about that. I kind of think about that a lot. I want all the weird random holidays with you. Forever.”

 Chris’s smile’s so wide and bright that it fills up the world, every fantasy and every holiday all rolled into one expression. His hand’s still cupping Sebastian’s face; the other comes to rest on Sebastian’s hip, over the scarf, with something like reverence. He says, “Guess what, Seb.”

 “Something about pirates and being a good…mate?”

 “Well, yeah, obviously that. My mate.” Chris leans in to kiss him; Sebastian’s entire body thrills to the claiming. “But also…we’ve been pretty much thinking the same things, about that. If you were wondering. I want all the weird random holidays and terrible puns and fucking perfect pirate role-play, forever, with you.”

[blonde-toddy]

Random and Not So Random thoughts while watching Bridgerton: Season 1, Episode 8

So the finale is here.

And baby do we need some resolutions.

This one is titled "After the Rain"

I hope that's a good thing.

Couples montage then lonely Violet. She was blissfully in love with her husband, that's for sure. 8 facking kids worth.

Yes Simon and Daphne are a love match....but they are ripping my heart out right now.

Why are they being so cold?!?!

Way to reference the ruse Daphne. Ugh.

I'm glad that King Granville is here.

Yes push those assholes together.

That shoulder touch. See, irresistible. They are all about each other.

The very picture of devotion, indeed.

Benny and Eloise!!!!

She's wearimg that ugly neck thing again.

No Benny, she thinks Delacroix is Whistledown.

What?!?! Francesca is coming back.

Oh Marina you still pregnant.

Now you shipping Penelope and Colin. That's not weird or anything seeing as you were ready to trap his ass.

Something is amiss!

For Violet to be so wise with her sons, she's awfully thick when it comes to Daphne. I just don't understand.

Daphne is done done done with Violets advice.

I ain't mad at her.

Aww Portia is trying to finesse her way back in. Violet can't stand her.....

Okay Daphne! Let's just hand out all kinds of forgiveness today.

Oh shit. Sir Crane!

Daphne and Portia are GONE!

Ooooh her beloved is dead dead dead.

Yeah girllllllll. All that time you thought he abandoned you. And he was at war.....shit.

What a pill.

I'm glad Daphne has some kind of friend.

Daphne and Marinas storylines are kind of bizarrely parallel.

Jesus Eloise, wtf!

Awww she's trying to save her friend.

I don't think Delacroix is Whistledown.

Oh this is so uncomfortable.....Benny on the low shit.

That shoulder shrug was cute.

"Lock. The door "

Where you going Daphne....what you doing?

Your Graces.

Awww Daphne is still trying.

Damn Simon if she deserves it, step up and give it to her.

Will and Alice ❤

Aw shit Will took Featheringtons bait.

This can't be good.

The deed to the crib?!

This man is out of his mf mind.

Stop it with Anthony and Sienna already!

Simon knows Will is up to something..........

Oh shit he's still there.

Marina you better marry him.

You a damn fool.

Good luck.....you're missing tf out I think.

Right, Portia, right.

Oh she definitely still pregnant.

What are you looking for Daphne?

Ooooh she found the letters he wrote to his father.

And she's reading the mfs.

Oh man.

Yeah girl. It's fucking awful.

Here we go again with hoe ass Anthony.

Under the bleachers. Okay you freaks.

And Will throws the fight.

Featherington is so full of shit and those bookies know he played them. That is going to go horribly. I guaranfuckingtee it.

Simon knows whats up....but he's in no position to judge ANYBODY right now.

Daphne getting serious insight.

I appreciate the relationship between Daphne and Lady Danbury.

She needs someone to be straight with her.

She's giving that mother-in-law type advice and I love it.

You really out here judging him Simon.

Will fucked up but he's still right! Worry about your wife and your life! What's this really about?!

Oh Portia...don't get too excited.

That shits coming back around.

Breakfast together. Is this progress?

Daphne has a peace about her.

She ain't giving up on her man.

To Bridgerton House they go to see Dear Francesca.

Simon is so charming. He is duplicitous af!

Suddenly everyone is just cool with everything. Okay.

Must be the edibles.

Yes girl, look at your hot husband. He is impressive.

Um. Eloise. I think you're wrong boo.

Everybody doesn't have the advantages you have homie! I'm glad Penelope checks her when she gets on that high horse.

Simon with the kiddos just laying it on thick for my girl Daph. Teasing the fuck out of her.

Even Anthony looks all proud and shit.

Delacroix still finds away to shade Portia and it's hilarious.

He lost her mf dowry.

Yes Marina. The bun is still in the oven.

Hastings house is lavish af!

Gawd that picture.

This is not the end. No. No. No.

I share in the doctors exasperation.

Idk what the fuck has happened to Anthony to turn him on his head like this.

Ok mf! You know what, take Sienna to the ball.

Finally giving her the love she deserves from you.

Oh look at these assholes looking at themselves.

"You wound me."

She's light roasting him again and it's lovely.

Come on my babies. Get it together. Y'all are precious.

Also if I ever marry, I want a regal ass portrait like that.

She wants to dance with her man. Same, girl. I want to, and I want you to, too.

Oh we have classic bantering Simon and Daphne.

Come. On. Already.

Fix it.

Fuck....the way they look at each other.

Welp. Party time.

Noooo not one LAST dance.

Ok Will flexed for his baby.

Simon still looking all judgy. Man you better get your own house in order.

Eloise is a living doll, but she's not here for the fellas just yet....or maybe ladies. Or maybe nothing at all. We'll see with her. Just not yet.

I appreciate the evolution of her and Daphnes relationship.

Aww Mr. Finch.

Portia flexing. "The Duchess extended an invitation, personally." She made sure they knew how connected she was.

They're still roasting her wack ass husband though. But fuck him.

Yep he's fucked.

Wtf does Benny do at these balls?

Awe Colin and Penelope.

Penelope bout to confess.

Well Colin killed that. Like dead in the water.

Ya boy is going to Greece.

Sorry Pen. The confession must wait.

Shes devastated. Hell nah she ain't dancing.

Oh Eloise...now is not the time.

Eloise got all that tea!!!!

Hold up this footman looks cheeky. More of him maybe.

Anthony bout to scoop his lady......SIKE.

Sienna pitting an end to this shit.

Anthony you've let her down one too many times.

And Sienna apparently has no desire to put on airs.

Are you sorry though?

And wtf do you do now?

Toss the flowers. Check.

Aww she saved Whistledown.

What a peach.

Come on assholes. Look at y'all looking at each other.

And he still plans on leaving.

Lady Danbury out here dropping wisdom. Listen, Simon, listen!

I honestly do think it's different for them. I think it's different for everyone.

Oh Daphne, Violet is dropping hot ones this time.

What a fucking pep talk.

And now they dance!!!!!

Its that slo-mo smoldering stare for me.

More rain?!

Daphne letting that shit wash her worries away. Go girl.

I mean y'all are cute but this is Daphne and Simons moment.

Cheers to the cane of Lady Danbury.

Danbury put everyone out. Her matchmaking and scheming never end.

At least Simon stayed in the rain with her.

Look at them.....

She told him bout the letters!!!!

Idk man. This love confession is on par with "I burn for you."

She wants to stay with you and love you every day. Man you have a rider. Y'all have dragged each other through the shits. Y'all need this rain.

But there's this lovely thing called a choice.

You really just gonna let her walk away this time and NOT follow her?!

Fucking hell.

Meanwhile at Featherington house.

Oh fuck.

Lord Featherington is dead. I knew that shit was going to blow up.

Fuck. Poor Portia.

Daphne just chilling.

Oh. Ok. Here comes the Duke.

Oh come on Simon. Yes you do. You know EXACTLY what to do.

Nothing else matters when y'all tangled up in them sheets.

They are just so tender!

Yes! Take it to the bed.

Daphne kissing on Simons neck and wanting to give him pleasure and affection >>>>>>>>

A million times over. Its fucking hot. Look at her honing her skillset.

Ride the mf girl!

Ok then! Flip that ass!!!

Out here long stroking the fuck out of her. Got dang.

Oh now you bout to hit that ecstacy.

Is a "congratulations" or "good job" in order?

These beautiful assholes!!!!

I just love them.

All this build up for Simon to ejaculate inside Daphne....but so worth it.

Awww poor Penelope.....

Eloise is convinced Whistledown is Delacroix.

I do love Portia.

Her and Marina grew to an understanding I think.

Marina girl, I think you're making a wise choice marrying your baby daddys brother. Just saying.

Who tf inheriting the Featherington Estate? And have we met them?

Hyacinth is forever in my heart.

Simon and Daphne got that glowwwwww.

Awwe Anthony is all broken up over Sienna.

Ahh yes Anthony, a loving union is the problem. I'm ready for your drama Hoe.

Aha! I knew Delacroix wasn't Whistledown.

Ooooh Eloise!

And you saved her ass.

Really?!?! Pen?!

I can see it a bit.

Aww Daphne is having a baby!!! She got her wish!!!

Simon looks equal parts terrified and amazed.

Aw yall keeping the alphabetical name tradition. How fucking cute.

But you know what, I'm here for it and I find myself satisfied.

And also thirsty!

That's why I went right back and started the series right over again. Yes I did. And I'm proud of that.

Now I will start the books and obsess about season 2.

What a beautiful much needled ride during these times. I feel alive again.

[of-a-chaotic-mind]

Relentless

Summary: Once Dean finally convinces Reader to go out with him, they have a few dates. However, their relationship is soon put on pause because of John. All is well in the end though.

TW/CW: Teen!Dean Winchester x Reader, some swearing

Requested?: Yes! @princesswagger17​ submitted another amazing request, “I was wondering could you make a Teen!Dean x reader where dean tries to ask out the reader but the reader know his rep and says no but Dean does everything he can to get the reader to go out with him. She finally says yes and they're still together and married with kids?? If that makes sense? Lol”

Word Count: 1,218

A/N: This was fun to write! I’m so glad I finally got around to writing it, I’ve been pretty busy and low on energy lately. That being said, I am finally done with school now so I should be writing more soon! I hope you enjoy this one! As always, Requests are Open!

Your POV

    I eye Dean Winchester across the hall as I throw books into my locker. Turning around I come face to face with my best friend, (your best friend’s name). They look at me suspiciously, “Please tell me you’re not crushing on that Winchester guy.”

    I shrug, “Why shouldn’t I be? He’s attractive and mysterious. You know I can’t resist mysterious, (Y/b/f/n).”

    “Uh, he’s also the biggest player this school has ever seen and he barely ever sticks around for very long. I heard this one girl telling another that he only stayed at his last school for about a month before his dad made him change schools again. Someone said his dad travels for work and is training him for the family business, whatever the hell that means. He could be part of the mob or something for all you know,” they finished dramatically.

    Grabbing my books for my next class, I sigh, “The good ones always do have a fucked-up past, don’t they? I’ll see you after school.” With this, I departed and headed to my last class of the day. Unfortunately for me, as I was looking down at my phone, I ran right into the man of the hour. My books and papers went scattering across the floor as I landed on my butt hard.  

    Before I can even register what’s happening, Dean is offering his hand to help me up. I take it gratefully and then he starts gathering all my stuff off the floor. As he hands everything back to me with a grin on his face, he says, “Sorry about that, I didn’t see you there.”

    “I-It’s alright, no worries,” I mumble.

    He chuckles softly, “What’s your name? I’ve seen you around but never caught it.”

    “(Y/N).”

    “Well, I’ll see you around, (Y/N). Try not to go running into anyone or anything else, yeah?” he jokes as he walks the opposite direction from where I'm going. I can already tell the interaction will be stuck in my head for the next couple of days but (Y/b/f/n)’s warning still rings in my ears. Dean Winchester is a player. The last player I dated was the worst mistake of my life. Here and now, I make a promise to myself. I will not fall for Dean Winchester.

    As expected, I had Dean stuck in my head for several days after that first encounter. However, not for lack of trying. I tried and tried to ignore it and move on but Dean didn’t exactly make it easy for me. He’d shoot a sweet, charming smile my way every time I passed him in the hall. He even offered to walk me home but (Y/b/f/n) saved me by saying they were already driving me, which they were.  

    On our ride home, they shot me a critical look, “He has his hooks in you.”

    I scoff, “No he doesn’t. I’m just being polite.”

    “Being polite my ass. You were drawing love hearts in your notebook in Biology and when he offered to take you home, you almost said yes.”

    I sigh, “Okay... fine. I guess I am interested. At the same time, I’m being cautious.”

    “You don’t want a repeat of last time.”     “No shit, Sherlock. That’s why I’m being cautious.” The rest of the ride home was in silence. In the meantime, I thought about the promise I made to myself and resolved to not let him take up anymore of my thoughts and time.

    Quickly, that resolution becomes harder and harder with Dean’s attempts to talk to me. He even tried to ask me on a date several times but I politely declined or made up an excuse every time. That was until he shows up throwing pebbles at my window at 1:00am on a Saturday.

    I throw open the window and look down at the lawn, “What the hell, Dean?! You could bust my window.”

    I hear his annoying chuckle float up to me before he replies, “Nah, they’re just little pebbles. They probably couldn’t break the window even if I tried.”

    I sigh, “What do you want? It’s one in the morning and freezing cold.”

    “Well, I want two things actually. The first, is for you to stop ignoring and dodging me. The second, is for you to come lay on a blanket and watch the stars with me.”

    I mulled over his requests before finally caving, “Fine, give me a minute to change into some warmer clothes.”

     Moments later, Dean and I are laying on a blanket in a field not too far from my house. We spend the whole night getting to know each other and talking about various things. Before he lets me go back to my room just as the sun is peeking over the horizon, he takes hold of my hands gently, “Do you think we could go on a proper date sometime?” I nod and with this he kisses my cheek before releasing my hands.  

     I wave goodbye, “See you at school Monday.”

    Monday came and Dean and I met in the hallways where he asked me to go to the diner with him the coming Friday night. As I said I would, I said yes. That was the first of many dates. Little do I know tonight will be our last for a while. I sat in the grass of the same field we star gazed in that one night and tried to comprehend the words Dean had just said. His father was packing him and his brother up and they were leaving town tomorrow.  

    Dean wipes a tear from my cheek before tilting my head up to look at him, “I promise I will come back for you someday. I love you too much to just lose you like this.”

    I stared in awe at the words he’s just spoken. We’ve never said those words but I know in my heart that my response is true, “I love you too, Dean.”

Time Skip 15 Years

    True to his word, Dean returned for me a year after I graduated. We left town and I traveled with him for a while before we finally settled down. I flip the pancake in the pan before sliding it onto a plate. As I turn to place three plates of pancakes and bacon on the table beside two glasses of chocolate milk and a mug full of coffee, I yell for Dean and the kids, “Dean, Bobby, Mary! The food is ready!” In mere seconds, I hear three pairs of feet stomping down the stairs.  

    They take their places at the table and begin eating as I grab my own plate and coffee and sit down between Dean and Bobby. Mary, our four-year-old who is sitting across from me, is cutting her pancakes into perfect bite sized pieces while Bobby, our seven-year-old, eats more like his father and shovels big bites into his mouth. I smile brightly as I observe our little family and laugh as our dog, Fang, tries to steal a piece of Dean’s bacon.

Masterlist

[starglossie]

how can we deny what we feel?

summary: where cherry is joe’s date for a dinner party because he lost a beef. and when joe gives himself a chance to truly consider how beautiful cherry is. and how they nearly get into a brawl in the middle of the dance floor, because their love language has and always will be: fight first, fall in love later.  rating: e for explicit! wc: 4.7k!  pairing: matchablossom !!!  CAN BE READ ON AO3 + under the read more below! 

“Excuse me?” 

Kojiro anticipated the dirty, crumpled napkin, hurled his way and dodges just in time. Kaoru’s eyes widen and his eyebrows are crunched so hard Kojiro’s convinced they’ll connect by sheer force alone. His cheeks are red. His lips are pulled upwards into a snarl. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

“Just for a weekend,” Kojiro continued while Kaoru looked for a fork. Or a knife. Probably both. “It’s not like we haven’t done it before.”

“Once! One time! That was the promise!” Kaoru hisses and Kojiro is so close to losing it. 

“Okay, well, you know what they say about the second time being the charm… Don’t give me that look!” he takes a purposeful step back as Kaoru leans forward to grab him by the collar. “Listen. It’s for the restaurant. It’ll only be for a few hours. And the food will be delicious.” 

Kaoru’s expression barely shifted, but it’s one Kojiro noticed. A little acquiescence to the idea of good food- free, good food. Something Kaoru could never deny. Kojiro grinned. Kaoru’s shoulders visibly relaxed, though he was still on edge. That’s also nothing surprising. 

“... You think I’m so cheap to be bought by food, you brainless musclehead gorilla ?”

Kojiro’s eyebrow twitched. “I absolutely think you are, gearhead . Anyways, you lost the beef.” he crossed his arms over his chest, smug. “I’m just entertaining your back and forth at this point. You know the rules.” 

If there was a bet made during a beef, the losing party had to abide by the terms the winning party set out.  Kojiro knew this. Kaoru definitely knew this. He was just being stubborn. And really, if the roles were reversed, Kojiro would be doing the same thing. But they’re not. So he’s enjoying every second of it. 

“I hate you,” Kaoru mumbled, stabbing his fork into his steak Kojiro made. 

“The feeling’s mutual. So 8 o’clock. Be ready. And don’t bring Carla.” 

“Huh? That’s not a part of the deal! Carla comes or I don’t come.” 

“Do you have separation anxiety? She’ll be fine. She told me she needs space from you to spread her AI wings and fly.” 

“She would never speak to you or say anything like that. Carla comes .” 

Kaoru’s stubbornness was going to be the death of Kojiro. He was sure of it. “Alright. Alright she comes. But she’s on mute .” 

Kaoru opened his mouth and then promptly slammed it shut. “Fine. And one more thing.” he said, though it was much quieter than his earlier words. 

Kojiro raised an eyebrow. Waiting for Kaoru to speak. When he does, it's like he hadn’t spoken at all. “Huh? Speak up! Stop acting like you’re all shy!” 

“I-” Kaoru’s frustration was apparent. Kojiro braced himself for a hit but what came instead was… not expected. “No repeats. Of last time. Strictly platonic.” 

Ah. And maybe, at this point, a physical punch would have been better. Kojiro can’t tell why his stomach curled into a horrible twist or the sharp twinge that followed. Can’t explain why his brain suddenly went into overdrive about why and what does he mean as if he wasn’t aware of what Kaoru was referring to. 

He remembered the heat. And nails down his back. And the cramped fit of the closet. And being on his knees. 

Was this feeling, the weird heat up his neck, disappointment? 

Better play it off. 

“Cool with me,” Kojiro shrugged it off. He picked up Kaoru’s plate and placed it in the sink. “We go. We mingle. We leave. In and out. Easy peasy.” 

He carefully watched Kaoru’s expression and body. How the man’s shoulders still seemed taut with tension. How his frown deepened even further and his eyebrows were bunched so tightly, Kojiro feared they’d magically meld together and form one, pink unibrow. Kaoru wouldn’t look at him. But Kojiro caught the red tinge on the tip of his ears, and held back the urge to snort. 

Sometimes he was so easy to read. 

“In and out,” Kaoru finally said, agreeing. 

“Easy peasy,” Kojiro repeated, smiling. 

-

Dinner parties were never really Kojiro’s things.

Sure, they were fun. Especially when he got a few drinks in his system. And socializing was never a problem for him. Well, until he socialized a little too much. To the point where two people were fighting to see who went home with him. Cliche, horribly so, and happened a lot more than he would think it would-now that he gave it a little bit of thought. But then again, he had two hands-so why fight? 

That normally worked. 

As he adjusted his tie, he looked towards the suit hanging by his mirror. He really hated suits. They felt tight around his shoulders and arms always . He was a big guy, with a lot of muscle. He’d rather wear loose jackets, or no shirt at all. 

Really, this was all for formalities. A lot of investors and restaurant connoisseurs came to these kind of fancy smancy events. He’d rather be out skating. Out feeling the wind in his hair and the open road before him. Rather than feeling the gel in his hair, and the sparkling lights of chandeliers and designer jewelry. Had to be done, though. For the sake of business. If he wanted to keep his place afloat, he had to show up to these things at least once. Get his face out there. Make nice with people. Laugh at the right jokes. And then steal a platter of shrimp cocktails before heading home. 

And then there was Kaoru.

This wasn’t the first time he’s done this. Gone with Kaoru to one of these events. The first time it happened spurred from a late night, drunken conversation. When Kojiro had gotten a look at Kaoru's back profile, with his hair over his shoulder and his elegant stance-proud, sure, strong. And immediately thought about how Kaoru would look on his arm, done up in a different way from his usual attire. 

“Be my date for this dinner party,” Kojiro slurred, his smile coming across nice and easy. 

Kaoru frowned, confused. “Huh? Why?”

“Because you’re beautiful,” Kojiro had said aloud. Faster than he could catch them. But the words were already out in the air. And really, Kojiro was never one to go back on something once he’s said it. 

He watched as Kaoru’s face exploded in a brilliant shade of red. All the way to the tip of his ears. Kaoru didn’t speak. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. Instead, he had reached for his glass. Downed whatever whiskey was left. And quietly, but fiercely, responded-

“Fine.” 

That same night ended with them in a closet. Also drunk, but this time a little better dressed than Kojiro in one of his casual t-shirts and Kaoru in his casual kimono. How did they get into the closet? Kojiro wasn’t sure. 

But did they have fun in the closet?

As much as Kojiro remembered, they did. 

“No repeats,” he said to himself in the mirror. He wasn’t upset. Not really. Hooking up with Kaoru was not on the top of his list. But it did reside on his list. If he had to have a moment of honesty with himself as he stared at the reflection in his mirror. 

He slipped into his suit the same time as the door to his room opened. He caught Kaoru first in the mirror, and turned around immediately to get the full view. 

His hair was loose. Not in its usual high pony or low pony. But free. Kojiro had rarely seen Kaoru’s hair out since high school. He normally kept it tied up because he hated how it got into his hair. He didn’t have his glasses on. And he wore a brilliant purple kimono. 

Kojiro’s throat went dry. 

“What?” Kaoru fidgeted and Kojiro realized he must have been staring a little too intently. 

Kojiro beamed, from ear to ear. “You really know how to sweep a guy off his feet. I should have known your pride wouldn’t let you come dressed anything less than your best.” 

“Well, I have a rep to uphold,” Kaoru sniffed. 

“Right right. The purple is actually a good choice. It brings out my eyes.”

“You’re the most annoying individual to ever grace the earth.”

“Thanks, I try. Ready to go?” 

-

They arrived fashionably late. 

Kojiro never liked to be on time for things. Kaoru liked to be on time for things a little too much. 

So yes, maybe Kojiro did take an extra five minutes for them to do a shot of courage before leaving his place just to waste time and get on Kaoru’s nerves. 

Absolutely worth it. 

“You wanna drink?” 

“No,” Kaoru said, folding his arms across his chest. 

Kojiro shrugged and reached out for a champagne flute by a passing waiter. “Suit yourself. You’re gonna regret it later, though.” Kojiro could never get through this party without being a little drunk. Just for funsies. 

“We already drank before we came here.”

“One shot is not drinking.” 

Kaoru rolled his eyes and stalked off towards the buffet table. Kojiro watched as he left, gaze intent. Kaoru was usually a bundle of spikes and clenched jaws. However, when he was walking through the crowd Kojiro couldn’t deny the elegance and grace Kaoru swiftly adopted. 

Shoulders high, gaze straight and resolute, and striding with purpose. Kojiro carefully sipped his drink watching as the crowd of sparkling individuals quite literally parted for Kaoru. 

“He sure knows how to command a room,” Kojiro murmured. He scanned the crowd to see if any of the usual, important connections were there. He had at least three people he needed to follow up with about inventory, marketing, and promotions. So with another sip he slipped into the crowd himself to mingle. 

Mingling was easy. It didn’t take much for Kojiro to find what a person loved to hear and then, repeat those very same words like silver and silk to get what he needed. Conversation was never something Kojiro struggled to cultivate. Once he painted on his smile and adjusted his body language as open, friendly, and warm-the rest was quite easy. 

“Are you by yourself tonight, Kojiro?” Hana was one of Kojiro’s important connections in the restaurant business. She was beautiful and quick witted. Any restaurant in Okinawa who wanted to stay on top of the latest trends knew it was best to have her on their side then against them. She was, quite literally, the pulse of their social circle. 

Kojiro’s eyes cut through the crowd slowly. He found Kaoru at the buffet table chatting with a man Kojiro didn’t recognize. Kaoru was engaging pleasantly. No doubt putting on his fake, charming persona to engage the man with. 

“Hmmm,” he debated what to answer. He could say no. And see if that would lead to Hana offering to go off, just the two of them. They’ve hooked up before at one of these functions. And she was always a fun company to be around. 

But then he saw the man talking to Kaoru lean forward. Whispering something in Kaoru’s ear that made him flinch. 

“I am,” he said to her, smiling. And then took off to where Kaoru was. 

Kaoru caught Kojiro’s gaze as Kojiro was walking over, and Kojiro immediately caught the tense aura surrounding Kaoru like a cloak. 

“Kaoru,” Kojiro made his voice syrupy sweet, slipping an arm around Kaoru’s waist. Kaoru leaned in, pressed to his side. A part of Kojiro’s brain said this is right . He shut that part down. “Sorry to make you wait. I was catching up with some friends.” His gaze cut to the man who looked much smaller up close now that Kojiro had a good look at him. “Who’s this?”

“Oh, don’t mind me!” the man smiled shakily. “I was just complimenting your date’s attire, as all.”

“Did you have to lean so closely to do it?” Kojiro asked. “Surely you can respect another’s need for space and leave them be, no?”

“Kojiro,” Kaoru muttered. He placed a warning hand on Kojiro’s chest and then flashed the man a dazzling smile. “Don’t mind my date. He’s overprotective as all. Though I’d appreciate that if we ever have the unfortunate experience of crossing paths again, you don’t try to touch me so inappropriately in such a casual manner.” when Kaoru opened his eyes again they were sharp, and cutting. “Now begone.”

The man scurried off into the crowd without another word. 

Kojiro watched him go, laughing. “Man he can haul ass.” More seriously, he asked. “Are you okay?”

Kaoru yanked himself out of Kojiro’s arm. Kojiro looked down at the now empty space and frowned. “Fine. Did you have to do all that? I was capable of handling it myself.”

“You looked uncomfortable. What sort of date would I be if I didn’t come to your defense?”

“Oh please. Don’t act like you’re a gentleman when you were off flirting with some woman.”

“Who?”

“Don’t play dumb! The woman who was hanging off your arm!”

“Hana?” Kojiro asked, slowly. “We weren’t flirting.” then a beat later, “Yet.”

Kaoru scowled, muttering a curse Kojiro couldn’t hear but definitely felt. A waiter with a tray of champagne glasses walked by. Kaoru waved them over and grabbed two glasses. He downed them with scary efficiency and placed the empty glasses on the table. “I’m going out for some air. Don’t follow me.” 

Kojiro could have let Kaoru walk away from him again, tonight. But something in him wanted Kaoru to stay. Maybe this was another one of his urges to push the boundaries between them. Or, maybe, it was something within Kojiro that still felt irked having seen that man get a little too close to Kaoru.

Whatever it was, Kojiro reached out and grabbed Kaoru’s wrist. 

Kaoru turned back, glowering at their hands. “What?” 

“Let’s dance,” Kojiro responded, smiling. 

Kaoru balked, “Excuse me?”

The music turned into a slow tempo and Kojiro just continued grinning as he led Kaoru to the dance floor. “Dance. You and me. Do something a little different from getting incredibly wasted, stuffing ourselves with food, and then passing out in the Uber home.”

“That sounds much better than this idea,” Kaoru said but he still allowed himself to be pulled. And when Kojiro looked back, he could see a blush coating his cheeks. 

Cute , Kojiro thought. There were people on the dance floor, some chatting and some dancing with their dates. Kojiro wouldn’t call himself a dancer. But he’d been to enough of these events to know a few basic steps. He placed one hand on Kaoru’s waist, and grasped one of Kaoru’s hands in his own. 

“I’ll lead,” he smirked. 

“I’m going to step on all ten of your toes,” Kaoru smirked back. 

Kojiro threw his head back and laughed as he led them through the dance. “Please do! I’d love to see you try, metalhead.”

“Metalhead? I’ll have you know per your request I haven’t even unmuted Carla, you monkey in a monkey suit.”

“Monkey in a monkey suit? Is that the best you can come up with?” 

That earned him a stomp but it was well deserved. The two continued bickering back and forth through the dance, much to the amusement of anyone who caught them. It was truly comical. Kojiro turned them around and around while Kaoru barked insults and Kojiro threw back as good as he got. 

When the song ended, the two’s foreheads were pressed together. Their hands were now interlocked in a fierce embrace as they snarled at each other. 

“I didn’t even want to come! Meanwhile you basically blackmail me to come-”

“-You lost the beef, idiot!”

“Shut up! Don’t talk about that here! You brainless meathead! And then you have the audacity to flirt with someone woman when I’m your date!”

“Oh so I’m just supposed to turn away people who come talk to me while my date is getting himself felt up by somebody else?”

“You act like I wanted that to happen! I was ten seconds from ripping all his fingers off!”

“If you weren’t gonna do it, I was!”

“All you do is talk and talk and talk! That’s why I can never take you seriously. Because all the talk you speak is just empty flattery to everyone and everyone! You drive me crazy .”

“You’re the only person I never just chat to! You’re the only person I’m ever serious with!” God when did his voice get so loud. And when did their faces get so close. And when did Kaoru’s face get so slack, so shocked. What did he say? What had he said?

The weight of his words finally crashed. He felt like he’d just wiped out on the track. 

Kaoru leaned back. “What…” he said slowly, carefully choosing his words. “Do you mean by that?”

They’re on the dance floor in stupid, fancy attire. Amongst stupid, fancy people that Kojiro had to woo and smooze once every few months. Yet it’s in this moment where the chandelier is above them and the violin strings are softly building up momentum and Kojiro is filling the champagne in his veins and he can’t help but think. Think that in Kaoru’s rage he is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

At this moment, he could run. He could put on his pretty words and regulate Kaoru to everyone else, like he said. With pretty words and pretty lies and shallow promises. 

But it was Kaoru.

And Kaoru was always different. 

“It means. It means, I like you, Kaoru.”

The music stops. Kojiro’s feel his entire face heat up. Kaoru’s face turned a brilliant red and he’s so beautiful. God he’s so beautiful. Why had Kojiro never allowed himself to see that? To allow himself the ability to gaze upon the most beautiful man he’s ever had the pleasure of calling his best friend. 

Why has he not kissed him yet?

Kojiro pulled Kaoru back, until his arms were around his waist. Their foreheads touched again, and he could feel Kaoru’s heart pounding. And Kojiro’s remembering when they were drunk in the closet. And how he wished they weren’t in the closet, but back at his place. Getting to know each other. Getting to learn each other’s bodies. Getting to slowly fall in love with the parts of themselves they’ve always known, but now they could experience one another in a whole different fashion. 

He wanted that so badly he could taste it. 

“I like you,” he said, softer. He closed his eyes. And he’s not sure if his pulse quickens out of fear or exhilaration. 

“Kojiro,” Kaoru’s voice sounded strained. Kojiro opened his eyes, Kaoru’s face was still bright. His eyes shining with something Kojiro couldn’t quite place. But then Kaoru’s leaning forward, and their lips almost touch. “Take me home.”

If Kojiro didn’t know Kaoru so well, he would have taken those words as rejection. But Kaoru was gripping his shoulders tightly. Biting his bottom lip. Glancing down at Kojiro’s lips and then back again. 

“Yeah. Yeah ok.” 

_ 

“Is this alright?” Kojiro asked, as he placed a soft kiss on Kaoru’s neck. 

Kaoru gripped Kojiro’s shoulders, “You keep asking me that. I’ll punch you if I don’t like it.”

Kojiro frowned, lifting himself up. “One, don’t do that. And two, you said you didn’t want any repeats. I want to respect that. So tell me, now. If you want to keep going, or if you don’t.” 

He’d respect it. Even if every nerve in his body was screaming to be inside Kaoru and feel him down to the wire, if this wasn’t something Kaoru wanted to do tonight-he’d respect that. No questions asked. 

Kaoru glanced up at him, and Kojiro got such a glance of how wrecked Kaoru looked already. His lips were red and glistening from their earlier kissing. His pupils were blown and his kimono was slipping off his shoulders. The sight was… so much. It made Kojiro’s cock ache tightly against his pants. 

“Thank you,” Kaoru said softly. Then his hand moved to cup Kojiro’s hardening cock through his pants. He stroked a few times. Kojiro moaned, head dropping forward and hips shallowly moving into the touch. “I appreciate your concern, but.” his thumb traced the tip of Kojiro’s cock. He was too good with this. Moving his hand up and down Kojiro’s hardening erection like he was making brush strokes. “I want this.” 

“Are you sure?” Kojiro gritted his teeth as Kaoru gave him a particular squeeze. 

“Yes, you idiot.” Kaoru wrapped his legs around Kojiro’s waist, pulling him close. He leaned up so his lips were near Kojiro’s ears, “I want you to fuck me. Make a mess of me. I want to feel it tomorrow morning.”

Kojiro didn’t really need to be told twice. He stripped out of his shirt and jacket until he was just in his pants. Where he unzipped himself and freed his cock. He reached over to the bedside table where his lube and condoms were. 

Kaoru started stroking Kojiro’s cock with his. Kojiro groaned, dropping his head to Kaoru’s shoulder as Kaoru worked them slowly. “You’re far too fucking good at this.”

“I know,” Kaoru replied, smug. 

Kojiro snorted and kissed him again. “Hold on, stop.” Kaoru did as he was told, and Kojiro spread Kaoru’s legs wide as he kissed down the slope of his body. Kaoru’s cock was leaking, strained against his belly. Kojiro pressed a kiss to the head. His own cock twitching as Kaoru sighed in pleasure. 

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about sucking Kaoru off again. He never thought the opportunity would arise. Now that it had, he wasted no time swallowing Kaoru to the base. 

Kaoru’s hips raised off the bed. He moaned Kojiro loudly as his hands fell to Kojiro’s hair. Kojiro hummed, his tongue running along the underside of Kaoru’s cock. He pulled off with a pop after a few sucks. With the lube, he poured some over his fingers and began to slowly work open Kaoru. There was some resistance at first, but he made sure to go slow. First, with one finger, and then another, and finally-a third. 

He watched as Kaoru became an utter mess. Writhing and cursing, an arm flown over to cover his face. Kojiro kissed the inside of Kaoru’s thighs, feeling them tremor and shake. He kissed up and up until he was at the base of Kaoru’s cock. As he thrust his fingers forward, working him open, he licked Kaoru from the base to the tip. He suckled on the head, swirling his tongue around and into the slit of Kaoru’s cock. 

“Fucking Kojiro , stop being a tease.” Kaoru pushed at Kojiro’s shoulder. “In me. Put it in me.” 

Kojiro slipped Kaoru out of his mouth as he removed his fingers. He reached for the condom on the bed and ripped open the packet with his mouth before rolling the condom onto his cock. “I should have known even in bed you’d be super demanding.”

“Yeah yeah,” Kaoru rolled his eyes and pulled Kojiro closer. “I should have known even with my dick in my mouth you can’t shut up.”

“It’s part of my charm,” Kojiro grinned as their tongues met, a sloppy intertwining as he lined himself at Kaoru’s entrance. He pulled back so he could guide himself slowly, feeling Kaoru’s walls stretching to his size. He sank until he was inside, fully. Groaning at the heat. Kaoru was so tight . He was so tight. Kojiro had never felt something sweet. Nothing better. 

He held onto Kaoru’s thighs, lifting them up so Kaoru was angled slightly off the bed. “You okay?” he asked, voice tight. 

Kaoru exhaled slowly, nodding. “Go slow. I’ll adjust.”

Kojiro obeyed. He eased himself out slowly and slid back in just the same. Kaoru’s soft gasp at the thrust sent a warm jolt down Kojiro’s spine. Their pace was gentle, as he took the time to work Kaoru open, in and out. Kojiro went in for another kiss. Their lips wet, and tongues sliding against each other.

Kojiro’s fingers curled around Kaoru’s hips, and he snapped forward with a roll that had Kaoru gasping his name into Kojiro’s mouth for him to swallow. 

“Faster, there.” Kaoru commanded. 

“Yes,” Kojiro snapped his hips forward again while he picked up the pace. 

Kojiro threw his head back and moaned. Kojiro dipped forward, sweat coating his brow, to kiss and mark up and leave Kaoru’s neck a red mess. 

“You feel so good,” Kojiro moaned while he fucked Kaoru. “So so good. I’ve thought of this. Of me fucking you. Me kissing you. Like this. You feel better than expected.”

“Shut up. Shut up, Kojiro. You’re so cheesy-Ah!” Kojiro’s next thrust hit the right spot, it seemed. Once found Kojiro angled his hips so he could hit that pressure inside of Kaoru again and again. 

Kaoru couldn’t speak. He could only moan and let loose curses as they continued. Their hips meeting each other for every thrust. Until Kaoru reached down between their bodies. Grasped his dick in his hands, and jerked himself off shakily. 

Kojiro grabbed his hand and placed it above Kaoru’s head. Kaoru growled but Kojiro leaned forward to kiss him. “No. Let me make you cum. I want to.” Kojiro released Kaoru’s hands and leaned forward, pressing his weight on Kaoru, and rolled his hips with deep, quick thrusts. Kaoru grasped onto Kojiro’s back, nails digging into his skin. Every word out of his mouth was of pleasures, moans and gasps and moans and gasps until his breath started hitching. 

He rolled his hips frantically, cock leaking and hard and pressed between their stomachs. With a few more thrusts, Kojiro felt Kaoru’s walls tighten around his cock and felt wetness spurt between their bodies. 

“ Kojiro ,” Kaoru groaned as he came. Kojiro fucked him through his orgasm, holding him tightly as he felt his own come upon him. He groaned Kaoru’s name into his neck, fingers gripping tightly upon Kaoru’s back. His whole body shook with the force of his orgasm.

After a few moments to catch his breath, Kojiro pulled out of Kaoru and rolled over. He took off the condom, tied it, and deposited it by the trash can by his bed. 

He turned back onto the bed. Laying on his side as Kaoru laid spread out, his entire skin a soft pink. His kimono ruffled. His hair all over the place. And beautiful. Utterly beautiful. 

Kaoru looked up at him, as Kojiro looked down, and their lips naturally found their way to one another. They kissed lazily, with no rush to start another round and no rush to kick each other out. 

Kojiro leaned back, pulling Kaoru to lay on top of him. Kaoru frowned but he didn’t make any moves to get away. 

“You’re sweaty.”

“So are you, Kaoru.”

“You’re sweatier.”

“Oh my God can we just bask in the afterglow of some bomb sex, please?” 

“You like me.” Kaoru said instead. 

Kojiro had the audacity to look embarrassed, “You’re … I-yes?”

“Since when?”

“Uh… honestly? Probably since, high school.”

‘Since high school !” 

“Listen! I just recently realized tonight I like you, ok! I’m just saying that I’ve probably always liked you since back then and didn’t know until… now.”

“God, you’re an idiot.” Kaoru huffed and dropped his head onto Kojiro’s chest.

Kojiro chuckled, running his hands through Kaoru’s hair. “That I am. Yo, you gonna tell me you like me too or did you just use me for sex?”

He felt Kaoru’s mouth move against his chest, but whatever he said was too quiet for Kojiro to hear. 

“Huh? What was that? Can you speak up please?”

“I said I like you.” 

“What was that?”

“I SAID I LIKE YOU, YOU IDIOT. YOU BUFFOON. YOU OVERSEXED GORILLA.” 

Kojiro’s laughter rang through his room as he flipped them over and kissed Kaoru all over his face. 

“Since high school too, right?” Kojiro asked, laughing between the kisses. 

“Shut the fuck up.”

“ Knew it. ” Kojiro was grinning ear to ear. He smiled down at Kaoru’s scowling face that soon transformed into a small smile in return. Kaoru wrapped his arms around Kojiro’s neck and pulled him in for a sloppier kiss, all tongue and saliva. 

“Congrats. Now fuck me again.” 

“ Anything for you, Kaoru.” 

[radramblog]

Star Wars Battlefront II (the good one)

My nonfunctional internet is preventing me not only from finishing off my essay, not only from watching the lecture that I would have shown up for were it not for mediary COVID restrictions, but it’s also stopping me from writing anything here that would require any sort of research or confirming details. That leaves me with less options that I would have thought.

Browsing through my Steam collection for ideas on what to talk about, and something jumped out at me pretty quickly.

Star Wars Battlefront II (the 2005 game, not Star Wars Battlefront 2, the sequel to the EA remake much maligned for malicious microtransactions) is a first/third person shooter that, while showing its age, remains one of the best games the franchise has ever put out. This is, of course, an opinion coming from someone who has yet to play Knights of the Old Republic, but it feels like Star Wars as a franchise has more misses than hits. So what makes this one land?

While I’m woefully unfamiliar with the early 00s shooters that Battlefront II was competing with (aside from Counter-Strike Source, but I’d argue that’s a different target market), I am extremely familiar with this one. I think part of why Battlefront II is so fondly remembered is on account of it being almost a gateway game for people getting into shooters in general- I for one played it extensively on my mate’s PS2 in primary school, and later on someone else’s PSP, and I doubt I would later have clicked so strongly with Halo if I hadn’t.

But what Battlefront II has more than anything else I feel is ambition. After the conclusion of the prequel trilogy, Star Wars’s universe was big, and the developers seemed interested in representing about as much of what we see of it’s style of warfare as they possibly could. As a result, the maps are a glorious smattering of worlds and terrains, loving and detailed recreations of places from the various films as well as a few that are probably new (I might just not remember them), each drizzled with vehicles and turrets and resources. Each of the game’s four factions share the basic units with very few differences (except for the Super Battle Droid), making them easy to understand and grasp for newer/younger players, with the complexity of each’s unique units paying off those willing to grapple with their weakness and play to their strengths. Some are definitely better than others, but that isn’t especially obvious at first. The basic classes reflect tropes seen in other games and while again some falter it’s not by enough that picking them in the wrong situation is a guaranteed blunder.

There are, of course, the heroes, major characters from the series granted to a player who’s doing pretty well, and I feel like this is another pretty well handled mechanic, even if a little awkward. There are enough of them, and they’re distributed enough between maps and factions, that they don’t tend to feel stale, and it’s pretty obvious that while they can absolutely ruin a team it’s also pretty easy to mishandle them. Unfortunately, heroes are related to one of my biggest complaints about the game, but we’ll get to that later.

One of the biggest selling points in my eyes are the dogfight levels. Now, I’ve never played X-Wing or the like, in fact my experiences with dogfighting games is extremely limited. But this part of the game fucks so hard. The design ideas begun with the class selection continue with the (admittedly small) range of starfighters you can pilot, with specialised interceptors, bombers, and landing craft to go alongside the effective all-rounders. The mode offers a variety of playstyles, between hunting down opponent’s fighters to bombing their flagships to boarding said flagships and destroying their systems from the inside. There is also the option of manually controlling the turrets, as well as acting as a gunner for someone else’s bomber/lander, but these positions are unfortunately underpowered and underexplored- they’re also, ultimately, less fun. But the dogfighting just feels right. I can’t really explain it, but moving in that 3-dimensional space feels not only satisfying but accurate to the source material in a way I don’t think any future Star Wars game has yet replicated.

I suppose the various game modes are worth discussing. Skirmishing on whatever map you want is the standard, at least in multiplayer, but there are a few unique offerings you won’t see in other modes- Hunt, where it’s a faction versus some of the series’s wildlife in a mode that always feels imbalanced towards one side or the other. There’s obviously Assault- the standard name for the space dogfights but on one ground map (Mos Eisley) it is of course the ever-popular heroes free-for-all, a chaotic mess but one where you can test out each one and figure out what their abilities actually do. But in the broader strokes, you’ve got the story, and the Galactic Conquest, as the two main other modes.

(oof, they really didnt build this with this resolution in mind huh)

That’s right, this game has a story, and it’s…okay? Ultimately it’s just a series of missions with the 501st, as they fight in the clone wars, turn on the Jedi, and ultimately become the Empire’s tool of oppression, separated by exposition. You get to run through some scenes from the movies, including the boarding at the start of the first movie and the Battle of Hoth, though some of the missions feel harder than intended- no matter how good the player is, the AI is not going to fare well in the tougher missions and you have a solid chance of ending up on your own.

Galactic Conquest is the game’s more unique selling point, being something like a basic version of Risk but with the dice-rolling battles replaced with Star Wars Battlefront II. You earn credits over time and through victory that you can spend unlocking types of units, getting new fleets to improve how many fronts you can wage war on, and unlock powerups for use in the actual battles. It’s largely fine, feeling like a bit more controlled and strategic version of just playing randoms in Instant Action, but it suffers the most from the biggest problem this game has.

The game’s truest flaw is its AI. They are dumb as a sack of potatoes, and the main thing holding the game back from perfection. And it was the early 00s so imperfect AI was to be expected, but it’s a bit more than imperfect here, I guess. Robits standing still while shooting you (or just at all, while you’re sniping them), extremely questionable vehicle and turret usage, and literally crashing starships into you, your flagship, or their own flagship. Bumping their difficulty up doesn’t really help, either. Even more egregious is the AI’s usage of heroes- or rather, that they don’t. If you’re playing single player, the game will always give earned heroes to you rather than your robot teammates, will not let one of them take if it if you decline to use the character, and you will never see one on the opposite side. This would imply that there wasn’t code for the Ais to use them, except there clearly is because Assault Mos Eisley exists- and they’re arguably much better there than in any other mode! It’s a real shame, because the low quality of the AI combined with the nature of the games means that victory is extremely polarised based on the player’s skill- if you bad all the way up to pretty decent at the game, your input basically doesn’t affect the outcome, whether you win or lose. If you’re good at the game, you will never lose at singleplayer, possible exception again being Assault Mos Eisley. It’s a little absurd, honestly. Also, I’m not even sure they go for the flag in CTF in space.

I am, however, willing to look past these flaws. The game is far from perfect, but it’s just incredibly fun. It’s a type of gameplay that they’ve tried to replicate, but never quite recaptured- and I think part of the reason for that is because the awkwardness is part of the charm. It’s nostalgic- both for those who played it when they were younger and just those in my generation who grew up on the Prequels. It’s also way more expensive on steam (bruh 14.5 AUD for real?) than I expected, but it goes on hard sales pretty often (I think I paid like a buck fifty for it), so it’ll be within budget at some point. I don’t know if I can recommend it for those who aren’t nostalgic, though, solely on account of those awkward features you likely wouldn’t be able to ignore like I do. And that’s a shame, because it’s not like they’ve made a better version of this game.

Fuck EA, basically.