#this quartet has been in my mind for months & with the finale's content in the palm of my hands ... heheheeee

[berrymoos]

everybody hush, i'm thinkin of a cg eda & luz / regressor raine & amity quartet 🤭

toh spoilers(?? kinda??) beneath the cut //

like. amity & raine exploring the human realm & being so awed by everything there!! their curious little hands hesitantly reaching out to touch cool-looking human realm things (bc back at the isles, this would be dangerous!!), looking back at luz for confirmation that it's safe, luz smiling real wide & going “it's safe, cariños, don't worry! see?”, then reaching out to touch it herself.....

and eda recording all of this like the absolute mom she is; on the recording you can vaguely hear her go “oh my titan they're so cute-”

[newmusickarl]

Top 10 EPs of 2023

As we have seen, 2023 has been a mega year for new albums with LIES being named as my Album of the Year earlier this week. You can read why I was such a fan of that record, along with more on the rest of my Top 50 picks by scrolling below or simply flicking through the New Music Weekly archives for December.

However, as many great longplayers we received in 2023, there was an equal abundance of great shortplayers too. In today’s hectic world where the demand for “snackable” (shout out Andrew Belt for my word of 2023) content has risen, the humble Extended Play has seen a big resurgence. So I’ve looked back over the last 12 months and picked out my ten favourites of the year. As always, I’ve gone for an eclectic selection that pulls from various genres including pop, rock, electronic, R&B, and indie. So depending on your taste, hopefully you’ll find something to enjoy on this list.

Here we go then, my Top 10 EPs of 2023…

Honourable mentions

Forever Means by Angel Olsen

White Magnolia by Bear’s Den

The Rest by Boygenius

Heady Metal by Divorce

Julie Byrne with Laugh Cry Laugh by Julie Byrne & Laugh Cry Laugh

Alaska Sadness by Katie Keddie

That Sweet Breath by Lowmello

My Eyes, Brother! by Opus Kink

Not The Baby by Prima Queen

See You In The Dark by Softcult

10. Modern Day by Bloxx

Kicking off the list with London-based indie quartet Bloxx, who have had a bit of a tough time recently. With multiple shows in recent memory cancelled, it was great to see them make a welcome return in 2023, with Modern Day their first new EP since 2021’s Pop Culture Radio.

Much like their output till now, it is a collection of five songs that showcases the band’s talent for writing catchy hooks and memorable riffs, with the strong opening trio of Modern Day, Television Promises and Runaway helping it secure a spot on this year’s list.

Listen here

9. Not As I by George FitzGerald

It was also a great year for synth-driven shortplayers as one of my favourite electronic musicians of recent times, George FitzGerald, released a new four track effort - Not As I.

Opener Mother is worth the price of admission alone, a beautifully ambient groove featuring American musician SYML on vocal duties. That said, the mind-melting synths of Venera, the spacey chimes of the title track and the pulsating soundscapes of All Roads make this one well worth 15 minutes of your time.

Listen here

8. More Truth by Daniel Avery

Sticking with 2023’s best electronic releases, DJ and producer Dan Avery also released a companion EP to his acclaimed 2022 album, Ultra Truth.

Featuring seven excellent new tracks that didn’t quite make the final cut originally, including trippy Georgia collaboration Going So Low and the accurately titled Bliss, it’s another absorbing collection from the Bournemouth musician who seems incapable of putting a foot wrong.

Listen here

7. Freak Show by ALT BLK ERA

As you can probably tell if you’ve made it this far onto my blog, I am a big champion of new music. On top of that, I am also a big champion of new music emerging out of my world-class local scene in Nottingham. And of all the fantastic Nottingham acts who had a breakout 2023, ALT BLK ERA are the ones leading the charge.

Word is finally getting out about this alt-rock sister duo, who fuse mind-melting electronica, heavy rock and razor-sharp bars for a sound that is entirely of their own making. This was highlighted this week when the pair received a prestigious MOBO award nomination for Best Alternative Act, nominated alongside the likes of Arlo Parks, Skindred and Young Fathers.

So, with ALT BLK ERA seemingly right on the cusp of blowing up in popularity, now is the time to get yourself acquainted with their hypnotic genre-defying sound. Debut EP Freak Show released back in August is the perfect introduction for those not already familiar, with the opening trio of I’m Normally Like This, Misfits: SOLAR and the horn-backed title track all well worth checking out, alongside fan favourite Oggy. I promise you, it’ll be unlike anything else you’ve heard in 2023.

Listen here

6. Homospace by Mickey Callisto

When I was first introduced to Liverpudlian pop sensation Mickey Callisto at Dot-to-Dot Festival earlier this year, it was obvious from the get-go he was a natural-born showman destined for big things. An enigmatic, commanding presence on stage, it was an utterly captivating performance that made for one of the highlights of the day and left me eager to see where his career would go next.

Well, this November saw Mickey releases his first EP titled Homospace and I’m pleased to say it’s a star-making debut release - in more ways than one. Here’s what I said in my review for 5-9 last month:

“Loosely inspired by Arctic Monkeys’ Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino, Mickey’s debut EP sees him transport the listener into outer space for a visit to “a gay nightclub on the moon”. The sounds that welcome you upon entry are a mesmerising blend of disco, psych-rock and 80s-inspired synth-pop, with Mickey lyrically jumping between personal stories and cosmic metaphors. The result is a joyful, imaginative orbit around some ambitious planetary pop. This is a fantastic, high-concept debut EP from Mickey; one that is not just a lot of fun to experience, but also offers the perfect introduction and showcase for his talent. Offering a welcome escape into some vivid musical nebulas, once you’ve taken the trip to the outer limits, you’ll be reluctant to return back down to Earth.”

Read my full review for 5-9 here

Listen here

5. The High Life by Bloc Party

2022 was the year Bloc Party got their mojo back. Whilst the band’s 2016 album Hymns still had its moments, it very much reflected a band going through a transition. Indeed, Alpha Games was still far from a perfect record, but if you had ever been a fan of Bloc Party then there was plenty of familiar pleasures on offer. Following on from that effort then, and this year the indie icons released a new four-track EP where they sound even more rejuvenated.

It’s a fun collection, with summery indie belter High Life kicking things off, before brilliant KennyHoopla collab Keep It Rolling flourishes with that classic Bloc Party sound. Similarly Blue sees Kele finally get back in touch with his younger self, with the song presenting some of his most sincere lyrics in years. Final track The Blood Moon is then my pick of the bunch, with shades of Bigmouth Strikes Again by The Smiths early doors, before it then transforms into that vintage Bloc Party of old by the end, thanks to Russell Lissack’s signature riffing.

Even if you weren’t quite on board with Alpha Games, Bloc Party fans will find plenty of resemblance to that band they fell in love with all those years ago on Silent Alarm and Weekend In The City here on The High Life. Another positive step in the right direction for one of my all-time favourites.

Listen here

4. A Little Lost, A Little Found by Grace Carter

It can sometimes be lost on us as listeners just how derailing the pandemic was for new artists breaking out during that time. After discovering Grace Carter at Live At Leeds fest in 2018, it was evidently clear she was heading for superstardom. The following year cemented this prediction, as the London-based singer-songwriter made the BBC Sound of 2019 list and she set off supporting mainstream heavyweights like Dua Lipa and Lewis Capaldi on tour. However ever since the pandemic struck, Grace has been lost in the wilderness unable to further shine a spotlight on her evolving talent – until now.

Her incredible 2023 EP is Grace getting back to basics, releasing a collection of heartfelt pop ballads that explore identity, family, love and racial injustice. From the exquisitely produced groove of Pick Your Tears Up, the gospel-influenced Riot, the atmospheric tribal cries of Mother and the quirky vocal inflections of Hope, it is littered with moments that quickly remind us of Grace’s songwriting talent.

This is the mesmerising sound of Grace Carter finding herself again and getting things back on track – hopefully she has a clear run this time around.

Listen here

3. Welcome To My House by Yonaka

It doesn’t feel like too long ago I was stood watching Brighton rockers Yonaka perform in the 1am graveyard shift at Dot-to-Dot festival back in 2017. With a then long-haired Theresa Jarvis jumping off the stage to sing her lungs out amidst the modest, onlooking crowd, I was instantly entranced by the band’s energetic songs and performance. Fast forward to now and the band are now a prominent name within the British rock scene, with their songs constantly making their way into TV show, game and movie soundtracks. Returning in 2023 with another release packed with addictive commercial rock anthems, you get the feeling this new seven-track mini-album - which comes complete with a music video for every track - will only catapult them further up the chain of popularity.

With each song representing a feeling, memory or emotion within Theresa Jarvis, the trio blaze through each concisely constructed track, with most hovering around the two-to-three-minute mark. Propelled by anthemic choruses, polished production and Theresa’s ever-impressive vocal acrobatics, it’s another tour de force project from the band.

From rousing opener By The Time You’re Reading This to the anxiety-induced PANIC, through to the colossal confidence of Welcome To My House and the full-throttled punk of Hands Off My Money, it’s just an absolute blast from beginning to end. However, the EP’s best moment is arguably reserved for one of the band’s softest, most heartfelt songs to date – Give Me My Halo. Noticeably stripped back compared to the rest of the tracks here, it allows Theresa’s vocals to soar with her raw, passionate cries driving home the song’s uplifting message.

Across their early releases, their 2019 debut Don’t Wait ‘Til Tomorrow, 2021 mini-album Seize The Power and now this EP, Yonaka have built themselves an arsenal of bangers that would put most other British rock bands to shame. A seismic collection of anthems that will no doubt go down a storm when they take it on tour in 2024.

Experience the visual mini-album through the music video playlist here

Listen to the EP here

2. MANHOOD by ROB GREEN

From one visual EP to another then, however you arguably couldn’t find two more different in sound.

During my first visit to Hockley Hustle festival in 2022, an all-dayer around the cultural heartbeat of Nottingham, soul-pop sensation Rob Green’s acoustic set was such an undisputed highlight, I was wondering how he could possibly top it this year. Well, he managed it.

Performing in the corner of Broadway Cinema’s café with the Rob Rosa String Quartet accompanying him, people were literally queueing at the door to catch even the smallest glimpse of his incredible thirty-minute set. And rightfully so, as the enigmatic performer proved once again his unrivalled ability to bring immeasurable positive energy to a room and leave the audience joyously radiant by the end. I always thought if he could bottle that energy and transfer it to his studio output, he would be unstoppable. Based on his MANHOOD project released at the start of November, it looks like he had the same idea.  

Unlike any other shortplayer released in 2023, MANHOOD is a stunning new visual EP that explores masculinity, self-love and racial identity. Centred around his heartfelt recent singles I’ll Be Around and What Are We Waiting For, the other parts are short vignettes made up of beautiful gospel harmonies, catchy hooks, conversation recordings and deep spoken word passages. With the film version impressively shot in a single take too, it all makes for a powerful 10-minute experience.

A special project by a very special talent, MANHOOD gives the perfect insight into Rob’s unrivalled charm and heart as both an artist and performer. Due to take the project on a UK tour next year, I implore you to go out of your way to see his life-affirming live show if you can – I guarantee you’ll want to capture the positivity in the air and bring it home with you.

Watch the MANHOOD short film here

Listen here

1. Sucker by bexx

“Sometimes falling in love feels like the most important thing in the world, especially when you’re not doing it.” – bexx, 2023

For me, the very best shortplayers should be all killer no filler – with most at four to six tracks long, there really is no excuse on that front. Additionally for me though, they should also take you on a conceptual journey or tell you a story in the same way any great album would. Enter Notts-hailing, synthpop superstar bexx, with her banger-filled debut EP that guides the listener through the highs and lows of her hapless love life.

Ever since discovering bexx through a support slot for Fickle Friends at the start of 2022, she has been on a roll. From her incredible breakout single Hard To Love complete with soaring 80s-tinged guitar solo, to more recent efforts like the extremely catchy One More Night and body positive, rock anthem Prettier, bexx has shown her knack for writing addictive, resonant pop songs is as good as anybody in the genre right now. Taking her first big step forward in 2023, she finally released this her debut EP and it is just the perfect showcase for her talent.

Sucker presents five songs about the eternal search for human connection and the stumbling blocks along the way. It is an EP filled with irresistible tongue-in-cheek humour and packed wall-to-wall with cathartic, anti-love songs with which any amiable cynic can relate. This is “unserious, heartbreak pop” of the highest order and it makes for the most joyously fun EP of the year.

The opening title track is the perfect tone-setter, as bexx describes the urge to text back a former lover, with her wry lyricism firmly at the fore on lines like “I still wonder, do you wonder, how I’m doing, who I’m under – I’m not lonely, I’m just going through the motions.” It’s this light-hearted take on these common melancholic feelings that makes bexx so refreshing and the song itself is one of her most instantly gratifying yet, thanks to its hooky chorus.

Inescapably catchy single I’m Disgusting follows, where bexx describes becoming that hopelessly lovesick romantic she’s always despised (“The lovey-dovey shit belongs on the TV, I’d rather die”). However, the honeymoon period of the relationship quickly ends, as bexx then throws us listeners into the brutal break-up on excellent single, Stupid. Culminating in the frustration-fuelled refrain “I hate this song, ‘cause it’s about you”, it is tailor-made for heartbroken festival crowds to sing back with angst.

Recent single Bad For Each Other is then undoubtedly the EP’s best moment, with bexx found unravelling a toxic friends-with-benefits relationship (“Steal a kiss, 3AM, just a secret between friends – even though I don’t feel used, still a little bit confused”). Once again channelling some palpable rock energy with a guitar-driven chorus, it is mixed seamlessly with a brilliantly produced electronic beat on the quieter, almost whispered verses.

After taking this wild journey with bexx through her romantic life, navigating attraction, sex, heartbreak and all the mixed emotions found along the way, the EP’s climatic song Haha, I’m dying alone can’t help but feel brutally poignant. This is the moment where bexx finally lifts that shield of humour that she’s carried throughout just a little bit, but enough to show the vulnerability hiding underneath - acknowledging that making a joke out of these feelings is her way of coping with the strain of it all. It’s another special, brilliantly written pop song and it’ll have you reaching through your headphones to give bexx a big comforting hug at the end of it.

For a first outing, bexx really couldn’t have crafted a better shortplayer to introduce new listeners into her world. A collection that has been cohesively pulled together and is simply beaming with the catchy, singalong choruses and witty takes that have made her music such a joy to behold. She has really knocked it out of the park with this batch of songs and it is no surprise that it has held on throughout the year to remain my favourite EP of 2023.

Listen here

Thanks for reading – I’ll be back next week with final year-end awards, including my favourite live shows and Top 100 songs of 2023!

[dickfics69]

Emotional Motion Sickness | A Rickyl ficlet | Part 6

rick x daryl

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 7 | PART 8 | PART 9

AO3

Summary: Daryl gets sick before a supply run, and denies it vehemently. He is a big tantrum baby. Rick is constantly worried and drama ensures.

Chapter Summary: The group finally arrive at the house. Daryl can't control his nose in danger and danger happens. They go into the house and find it's booby-trapped by a serial prepper/conspiracy theorist. They break off into twos. This chapter follows Rick and Carl.

AU: This fic has some timeline and plot-point changes. They are still in the prison and the second Governor fight never happened. He died in the first one and the last few months have been them adjusting to all the new Woodbury inhabitants. Rick and Lori broke up when Shane was killed, but Rick still lost his mind when she died. Daryl and Rick have just recently gotten together. Farmer Rick era is lot shorter than in the show. An original character is introduced for plot furthering purposes.

Content warning: adult language, sickfic, mess, snot, bodily functions, hurt/comfort, vivid nightmares, adult content, 18+ for eventual smut (still deciding hehe), original character

Word count: 4.5k +

My Daryl Dixon playlist

Ty to @dumbslxtclub for being my grammar kween and hype girl

Chapter 6: Welcome to the house of fun

The muddy path up to the old brick mansion was longer than any of them had expected. But they travelled as Rick instructed. Fast. Silent. Lethal. Only stopping to take out the stray walkers who had ventured into their orbit. Never breaking ranks, they were an insuppressible quartet. God, Rick missed this. The thrill of the chase, the weapons on his person. It’d been a long time since Rick had been out on the road, really long, actually. Following the advice of Herschel Greene, The Deputy had focused most of his attention on farming, trying to set a good example for his tweenaged son, who showed an uncanny apt for necessary violence. Trying to preserve Carl’s innocence was hard, as Rick lust after the battle just as much as he did. He had also appointed a council to make decisions with him, so he wasn’t solely to blame for shit ones. Stll, he had longed for this exhilaration. Thinking back, Rick hadn’t been out on a run since he and Daryl had confessed their feelings for each other. Shaking his head, he pushed aside harmful thoughts about their ability to work together. Today was just an exception. However credit where credit was due, since his tantrum in the woods, Daryl had managed to keep his shit together. Maybe the sick man had come to his senses. Rick wasn’t particularly hopeful, but he hadn’t heard a single cough or sneeze or sniffle for well over forty-five minutes. So maybe?

Coming to the end of the overgrown trail, the group emerged in front of an expansive clearing of wild uncut grass, and a motley of wandering walkers. The red-brick beauty seemingly towered above them, set high atop vintage foundations. It called to them teasingly. Rick subconsciously gestured with his hand, immediately feeling the presence of his partner at his side. Just as it should be. They glanced up to each other simultaneously, their telepathy unmatched, unwavering. Spotting an old rusty truck peeping out of the untamed garden, the pair gestured together, calling the whole group to the visual blockade. 

Rick knelt down to oversee the expanse of danger that lay ahead, Daryl squatting down lower beside him. The younger two fell into formation next to the hunter. They needed a distraction to draw the walkers to one spot. Glancing at his immediate surroundings, Rick spotted a stray tennis ball under the dilapidated vehicle. He picked it up and tapped Daryl on the shoulder. The other man immediately withdrew his lighter and handed it over. It was an intimate dance of knowing. Bringing flame to fibres, Rick stared at the orange glow for a moment before launching it well out of sight. The group watched the swarm of hungry walkers meander to the distraction. Rick was satisfied, maybe the risk would be worth it. A knowing, sharp intake of breath to the right of him dismantled the confidence he had felt momentarily. With heaving shoulders, Daryl launched forward with ticklish explosion. 

“H’AATChoO…Hh’EsTCHUU…ugh.”

The irritated blasts echoed through the nature around them, igniting furious shushes from three separate generations of frustration. Before anyone could vocalise a thought, Rick clamped his hand hard around Daryl’s nose, desperately trying to control the situation.

“Theheh fu-hehgk?” Daryl’s voice was barely audible, but was filled with consternation and confusion.

Without a thought and running on pure instinct, Rick whipped the other man’s face into his abdomen, attempting to muffle the volley of sneezes that sought to exacerbate the danger surrounding them. 

“H’mmpht…mMPHht!” The fittish sneezes ripped through the thin layer of fabric separating nose from naval. Rick could feel every muscle convulsing from Daryl’s weak yet powerful body. A calloused hand grabbed The Deputy’s waist to steady the vessel behind it.

“You done?” 

A swift yet subtle shake of the head tightened Rick’s grip as they both embraced for another onslaught. 

“Hah’mmphst…nggmmpht…heh…h’MMPHTchuh…” The weakening of the frame pressed against him indicated that the fit was over. The leader of the group continued to hold the sick man hard against him, a sickly nose crushed hard above his pant line. The hand of support continued to linger at the small of The Deputy’s back, sending a rapid shiver through his extremities. An exhaustive wetness spread from the mouth of his beloved, permeating through flannel and cotton, settling on the fine hair that peaked out from his waistband. They breathed heavily together, one consideringly more congested than the other. Rick was not oblivious to his sudden arousal, but with danger so imminent he refused to bask in it, hoping that Daryl couldn't sense the blood rushing to his crotch.

He could. Daryl momentarily dipped into a state of deja vu, head being thrust into his partner's crotch, wild hair clasped tight in a fist of unwavering strength. The archer relished a peculiar kink, and briefly whisked his mind away to a comfortable place of safety and sexual longing. However the snot bubbling out of his nose brought him immediately back to disgusting reality. The vice around his face was suffocating, taking him back to the choke hold Shane had inflicted on him, way back in Atlanta. Anxiety surged and ferocity grew. Daryl abhorred being manhandled in such a weakened state, even by Rick. Especially by Rick. He gathered his strength and shoved the man away from him, a line of mucus breaking the last of the intense contact. 

Rick fell back to the ground, staring back at icy blue eyes that wore the same bewilderment and anger that he too felt in this confusing moment. Before anyone in the group could cast an opinion on the matter, the sounds of bodies slamming into the other side of the vehicle broke them all out of their otherworldly stupor. Shit. 

Scrambling to their feet, the four initiated their premature attack. Daryl snatched his trusty crossbow from beside him and launched a bolt into the walker closest to his partner. Rick immediately pushed forward. Knives to hilt driven forcefully into brain matter. The thin whistle of flying daggers rose above the hungry growling. Peri seized a rusty pipe from a pile of debris, plunging it hard into the skull of the walker she had just kicked down. Blow after blow, Carl annihilated them, sizable blades in both hands. Suddenly two sets of rotting hands grabbed him from behind. An arrow came hissing past his head, breaking him out of the undead vice. Daryl was perched atop the ancient truck, taking out the animated corpses at long range. Rick was tackled to the ground by two of them, only able to coordinate the execution of one. He struggled against the weight of them on his torso. A spatter of blood over his face. Forceful blade plunged deep into the cranium. Daryl kicked the limp bodies off his partner, and pulled him up by the hand. A bloodied knife in the other. The team continued to fight ferociously, until the final walker dropped to the ground. 

The familiar stench of rotten flesh drifted up from the ground, mixing with a steady downpour of rain. The group stood where they stopped, catching their breath indefinitely. The thrill of the battle had them all running on unadulterated adrenaline, always taking a minute post for reality to catch up to them. Daryl braced himself hard against the old truck, desperately trying to replenish his drowning lungs of oxygen. A wet cough snuck out, drawing a vexing glare from Rick who stood nearby. 

Rick watched the other man trying to collect himself, a flicker of immense sympathy emerging briefly before being crushed by irate exasperation. Logically, Rick realised that Daryl couldn’t control his bothersome nose, but the entire series of irresponsible decisions and willfulness had led to the culmination of everything going to shit. Rick tried to recall a time where his partner had been this fucking difficult but came up immensely short. He poorly convinced himself that Daryl would be fine, persevering on muscle memory and customary instinct. 

“Rick, you good?” Peri’s voice broke him out of his maladaptive ruminations. A woman he hardly knew, but sadly trusted more than the love of his life at this moment. 

A simple nod from their leader was enough for them to advance towards the expansive building. Approaching the door, Rick held up his hand stopping everyone. He pressed a keen ear up to the ornate door, rapping hard against it with his hand. The others followed suit, banging on the external windows in a bid to draw waiting walkers out. They paused, listening intently. Not a sound from within. Strange. 

Rick turned the doorknob slowly. It was unlocked. As he pushed the heavy door inwards, a sudden alarm sounded, making the group jump in terror.

“The fuck is that?”

“What the hell happened?”

“Someone turn the damn thing off.”

Voices shouted against the ear piercing reverberations. Daryl aimed his bow at the speaker above their heads, silencing it with one swell draw.

They looked at each other with panic surging. What the fuck was going on? Rick opened the door a fraction again, stopping when a rugged hand met his shoulder.

“Ya sure ‘bout this?”

“No,” Rick responded, opening it anyway. They needed this.

The door opened to a widespread foyer, a thin layer of sunlight streaming in through the barricaded front windows. A grand staircase rose from the middle of the room. As the group entered the architecture, several strange additives came to life. The high ceilings were decorated with a multitude of silver coat hangers. Cardboard and newspaper clippings painted the towering walls, concealing a once decorated paper print. A thick coating of dust sat settled on any flat surface it could. The party moved slowly, attempting to make sense of their bizarre surroundings. Carl inched backwards, head tilted back, gazing curiously at the ceiling. A force stopped the boy at his ankles and the next thing everyone knew he was on his back in an instant. The blaring of heavy metal music deafened their eyes beyond the point of thought.

“Someone turn it off!”

“WHAT?” 

“TURN THE DAMN MUSIC OFF!”

Daryl focused his bleary eyes toward the ceiling, flicking between two enormous speakers. He trailed a cluster of wires down through the corner of the room to a small radio, hidden on a table between piles of manila envelopes. The roar of music stopped in a fizzling instant, a sharp bolt shattering the threatening technology. 

“Shit.” Rick swore to himself, a dull ringing still throbbing in his ears. They all waited on baited breath, convinced of being live bait to an immense walker horde. Yet nothing came. Again. 

Peri walked around the sizable table in the centre of the room, holding a hand out to help Carl from the ground. Daryl squatted down to where the boy had tripped from, delicately running his finger across a strand of fishing wire, pulled taut. 

“Damnd psycho got the whole place fuckging tripped!” Daryl arose with fretful pace, taking a few steps towards his partner, a pleading look in his eyes. “Rick, I gott’a bad feeling ‘bout this.” His tone was rushed. Urgent. Revealing the same trepidations that the man in front of him felt.

“Daryl…you were right before, man, we need this. S’fine, we got this far.” Rick attempted to keep a level head against all the mounting evidence that they should book it and run. He inhaled deeply, turning to include the younger members of their team. “Okay, this is fine. I dealt with a guy like this before the turn. Serial prepper, illegal booby traps and sound complaints. But he never rigged anything to hurt anyone, s’all for themselves. Sounds trigger to alert intruders. By th’looks of this place, no ones lived here for a while.” He ran a single finger though the dense dust layer to prove his point. “Walkers are our only threat, so we stay vigilant, on high alert, and we move slow. Y’all got that?” They all nodded tentatively.

“Al’right. Carl, you’re with me down stairs. Daryl, you take Peri up, find as much as you can.”

“Combon’ Rick-”

“-Daryl, shut up.” He sensed an almost audible eye roll emitting from beside him. He didn’t know what Daryl had against Peri, but he didn’t care enough right now to find out. “The sooner we get this done the better.”

Carl made a point to step over the fishing line that had foiled him earlier, whether it was attached to anything or not. Rick ran a hand through his son’s hair as he approached. Daryl huffed, snorted loudly and made his way up the steep staircase without another word. Peri made to leave but the Deputy called her attention with a quiet psst.

“Hey would you uh…keep a…y’know, keep an eye on him?” Rick asked sheepishly. He didn’t love the idea of having someone spy on his sick partner, but Peri was as close to a doctor as they were getting today.  As shitty as Rick was with him, he feared Daryl succumbing to his sickness. She dipped her head in a show of solidarity and understanding. 

He responded with a silent ‘thank you’ and watched her skip up the stairs to join the man responsible for all his consternation and woe. ‘Out of sight out of mind’ he thought, before bringing his hands down to his son’s shoulders affectionately.

“Let’s find the kitchen eh?”

“Pretty sure it’s through here, dad.” Carl moved to the left of the foyer, standing in front of a mahogany wooden door. 

“How’dya figure that, Carl?”

“Just a hunch, I guess.” Carl went to turn the knob with haste, forcing Rick to step in. 

“Hey! What’d I just say? We gotta be careful, Carl. Open it slowly.” Carl took heed and opened the door a crack. His father was glued to his back as the kitchen became visible, frame by frame. Much to their shock and relief, there was no trip wire, nothing to make them question their decisions. They laughed together in solace.

“Told ya I knew where it was!”

“Yeah, yeah, com’on let’s see what this guy has.”

“Who says it’s a guy?”

“A house like this? S’always a guy, Carl. A weird guy” He ran a hand through his son’s hair again, relishing their time together in such an awful context. 

Rick watched Carl slide past the kitchen counter and squat down to some lower-level cupboards. The Deputy turned to his left and cast his eyes upon an open shelving rack of odd bits of gold. Cumin, tarragon, mustard seeds, paprika aplenty. Carol would absolutely love this. He stuffed as much as he thought necessary into the bag, beaming at the possibility of flavourful meals. Searching below he found bags of flour, sugar. Even chocolate bars. He quickly pocketed the latter, making sure his chocoholic son didn’t see the aforementioned items. ‘Fuck, Daryl was right, this is a goldmine.’

“Man whoever was here friggen’ loved pea and ham soup.” The juvenile piped up from behind Rick, staring mouth agape at an entire cupboard's worth. “How much should I take, Dad?”

“Um…” Rick didn’t know how to answer, truth be told he’d never seen so much of one thing before. “Er… take a lot but maybe not all of it.”

Carl filled his duffle bag with just enough so that’d had room for other things. They could always come back. He went to open a higher cupboard, excited to see what other items he could call his own.

“Carl, be careful!”

“It’s fine, Dad.” As the boy opened the cupboard a cruel twist of fate welcomed him, as copious amounts of porcelain fell from the flimsy shelving. Whether it was a trap or not, Carl ducked for cover as soon as the cascade started. The boy wasn’t quite quick enough- a broken plate hitting his head sending him to the ground once again. He had the foresight to move away from the attack but felt a stinging in his temple that he hoped he could wish away.

Rick viewed the whole scene in slow motion, springing into action when the broken vessel made contact with his son’s head. 

“Carl!” He made his way around to him, avoiding the avalanche of broken china. “Carl, hey, you okay?” He knelt down to his boy, checking his face for broken skin, flinching in panic as blood made contact with his thumb. 

“I’m good dad, it's fine, see?” He wiped the trickle of blood from his face, revealing the tiniest of lacerations near his temple.

Rick couldn’t put into words how relieved he was that Carl was okay. Part of him wanted to wrap the boy up in cotton wool and walk him straight out the front door and back to the car. Safe forever. The other part of him recognised the maturity that had grown from a once terrified child, ready to prove itself. Logically he knew he had to let Carl blossom into the inevitable eventually. But it was his boy, his life, his purpose. The best thing he and Lori ever did. It was all too tricky and Rick just wanted a vacation.

“I’ll go check the other cupboards Dad. you should go and see what's in the other rooms”

“Yeh, sure.” Rick said from his place on the cool floorboards, watching his son bound his way over to another cupboard. “Carl, just…just open it slower this time ‘kay?” Carl nodded and followed instruction. His eyes shone back at the bounty within. 

“Whoooaahh.” 

Sizeable cans of baby formula became visible to the pair. There were empty bottles, bibs, tiny jars of assorted puree. Judith would be set for the remainder of her first year, and then some. The boy plundered happily. Rick continued to watch him for a moment, a tender happiness swelling in his chest. Despite the possibility of sibling resentment, Carl had fallen in love with his baby sister almost instantly, becoming the best older brother a little girl in an apocalypse could ask for.

Rick stood and made his way over to the door they had previously entered from. 

“Hey Carl, just be-

“-be careful! Yeah, I know dad.” The boy parroted gentle. “M’good here, run along now.”

“Smartass.” Rick said with a playful shove towards his son. They grinned at each other before Rick turned and made his way back through the expansive foyer. Several closed doors called out to the man. He reached deep in gut instinct and made a path to the one directly opposite to the kitchen.

Rick pressed an ear to the closed wooden frame and rapped on it lightly. Satisfied with the lack of undead shuffling behind it, he turned the knob. The heavy door opened with a distinct creaking of age and rust. The room was much darker than he had expected, only tiny slivers of fading daylight peeping through the boarded up windows. Rick peered into the blackness, an intense trepidation pooling in his throat. From the darkness a tiny flickering orange glow seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Before the man could decipher what was happening, the shadows erupted with light. Firecrackers were igniting left, right, and centre, the flames from one setting off another in quick succession. And the sound. A tiny war was happening before his eyes and ears, drowning out any chance of individual thought. He moved away from the strobing room, attempting to collect himself. Just as the false gunshots ceased, three sets of hurried footsteps made their way into the vicinity.

“Dad!”

“Rick! The hell happened?” Daryl’s concern drifted down from a high bannister. 

“S’fine…” Rick replied, feeling slightly winded from the event. “Damn idiot rigged a bunch-a firecrackers to go off!”

“Shit.”

“Rick, the winds are really picking up out there, maybe we should just call it quits before the storm hits?”

“No! We’ve already gotten great stuff down here. We got time before the storm, jus’ get back to it yeah?”

The leader spoke and overhead footsteps withdrew. A coughing fit fading into the distance did not go unnoticed by Rick, who felt his polarising frustration and worry return. The man did not have the time for such thoughts right now. Peri was with Daryl. Rick didn’t have to deal with Daryl. Daryl could be as fucking Daryl as he wanted with her. ‘Come on, focus!”

“Hey dad.” A small hand grabbing the side of his arm broke Rick out of his cascading stream of thoughts. “We should, uh…we should stick together.” Carl’s voice tinged with echoes of nervousness.

“Yeah, good plan.” The father gave the boy’s shoulder a squeeze of solidarity. A squeeze that attempted to quell the small man of his sudden worry. “Com’on, come help me get some light in this place.”

Together the pair managed to free some of the wooden planks that decorated the inner sides of the windows. As the room lit up with dreary afternoon light, the belongings in front of them became apparent. A huge space, once a grand dream of a library now reduced to a nightmare of conspiracy theory and paranoia. A residual smell of smoke rose up from a burnt out pile of firecrackers on a small desk in the corner of the room. It was a good time for smoke detectors to be obsolete. Rick made his way over to the towering book cases and started rifling through. Carl explored more thoroughly around the space, poking through dusty boxes and peering at bizarre items on shelves. 

“Hey, Dad!” Carl stopped at one of the old cardboard boxes and held up two large bottles of honey-colored liquid. “Y’think anyone wants, like, twelve bottles of whiskey?”

“Carl, just put-” Rick paused himself. Yes, people would very much like twelve bottles of whiskey. “Just put a few in yer bag and come help me sort through these books.”

Rick turned his attention back to the pile of books in his hand. Shakespeare, Aristotle, Tennessee Williams, Wordsworth. A stack of wonders from the old world, seemingly pointless for the new one. He threw them to the wayside and kept browsing the immense collection. Short Plays for Kids. Carol might enjoy letting the kids put on some silly pantomimes, so in the bag it went. He came to another heap of books, a collection of children's stories. Picking one up for a flip, the bearded man beamed. 

“Hey, Carl. Carl!”

“Yeah?”

“Look! It’s the entire collection of The Large Family.”

“So?”

“This was your favourite series when you were little!”

“And?”

“Here, it's the one where Mrs Large just wants a night to herself and everyone keeps pestering her and -”

“-Dad! M’not a kid anymore!” Rick stopped his pressing, a melancholic aura coming from his slightly hunched shoulders. Carl sensed this. “Hey, I’m sure they were great. You should take them, I’m sure Judy will love it too.” Rick smiled back at his son, putting the collection into a side pocket of his duffle bag. 

“Hey Dad?” Carl leant against the bookcase, putting no real effort into filing the assortment of literature. “How worried should we be about Daryl?” This caught Rick’s attention, forcing an exasperated sign from his lips.

“Ah, I really don't know Carl. I ain’t ever seen ‘im quite like this. Well-I have, but not for a long while.” 

“He just really doesn’t seem okay.”

“Why? What happened out there in the woods?” Rick asked, realising he hadn’t bothered to gain such information before now. 

“I kinda said I wouldn’t say anything…-”

“-Carl.”

“Okay well, I was able to track him like he taught me and then there were these two walkers. I killed ‘em before they could get to him, but Dad, he looked awful. And I could’ve sworn he was talking to himself before I got there…”

Shit. Daryl had been through several bouts of hallucinatory conversation in the time Rick had known him. Almost always with his brother Merle. These out of body experiences never came from a good place and always ended in a worse one. Daryl was in a terrible place, disgustingly physically, and even worse mentally. The sick man wasn’t particularly apt in communicating his grievances, even with Rick. There was still so much about the Hunter’s childhood that eluded him and made his heart ache with fury. The scars. The dreams. The hallucinations. The self-worth. Missing puzzle pieces that The Deputy desperately wanted to find. Daryl Dixon was a wounded wild animal, one misstep and he might run away for good. Snotty and wounded. Rick loved Daryl, fractures and all and wished the stubborn man could just accept the comfort he deserved. But with a hideous storm on the way, and a volatile house at their fingertips, Rick didn’t have the luxury of fretting. There’d be time to fix everything when they got home. Just focus. 

“Hell be fine Carl.” Rick lied. “He’s tough, probably tougher than you and me put together. And he’s with Peri, she’s basically a doctor. He’ll be fine.” He patted Carl on the head, running a reassuring finger through the boy’s hair and was met with an accepting nod. 

“Peri’s like, really cool. I’m glad you invited her to stay, Dad.” A sheepish smile creeping across the boy’s face.

“Carl, she’s like twice your age…”

“Ye..yeah…I know! I just mean she’s like, super funny and really good with knives and stuff…” Carl trailed off, a noticeable blush growing in his cheeks. He racked his mind for something to change the topic. Thinking on his feet fast.

“Hey, Dad, don’t people like this usually have like, a bunker somewhere? I bet he’s got a basement full of guns…”

“Now that, Carl, is some adult thinkin’. Let’s finish in here and then suss it out.”

The pair went back to their task of sorting through the books, finding just what they needed for their very own prison library. Carl was obviously growing bored, and started sighing subconsciously. That was until he came across one little read that made him giggle like a schoolgirl. 

“Look what I found!” Carl exulted in a sing-songy voice. Rick looked down at the literature being flipped open in his son’s hand. Lewd images flashed by and the man immediately snatched it from Carl’s excited fingers. The fucking Kama Sutra. 

“Not for you.”

“But I found i-”

“-Not. For you!” Rick huffed a sigh at his son’s over-the-top eye roll. “Look, I’ll finish up in here, why-dontcha wait out there for me and then we can look for that basement?”

“Fiiiiine…”

Rick listened to Carl stomp his way out of the room. He brought his gaze down to the well worn paperback and gulped a flushed swallow. Flipping through the pages and images brought a certain heat to the back of the man’s neck. A handy little read indeed. Lucky Maggie and Glenn. Lucky him. Just as he was about to read into a specifically flexible position, a loud commotion came from the foyer. 

“Dad!” Carl’s panicked scream jolted Rick out of horniness and into fearful father-mode. He shoved the book into the top of the duffle bag and sprinted out of the library with breakneck speed. The room had changed colour since he was last in there, the rapidly dimming daylight fading the intricacies of the home. Rick’s eyes darted around. And there he saw Carl. Strung up by an ankle, several feet off the ground. It would be the simple case of cutting him down and blaming another silly trip wire. But an eerie energy was running rampant through the air. Inhumane screaming, gurgling and hissing filled the room. Rick scanned the place frantically, eyes eventually settling on a sizeable open trapdoor on the other side of the stairs. Before he could even reach for his Python, countless pairs of undead hands reached out of the abyss. They were very much not alone anymore.

“CARL!”

[lilxberry]

The Guilt Of A Lover - Natasha Romanoff

Synopsis;

You tend to be quite off-put by other women when you’re with the love of your life, even feeling guilty when there truly is no need to for you to feel so. Natasha herself tells you as such.

Warnings: Lil’ bit of language. Jealous Natasha. Oblivious and paranoid reader. Pretty much it tbh.

Words: 2,072

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

_______________

You sat there, admiring your red headed girlfriend as she took down yet another agent in training. You were always in awe of how he body moved when she was up against an opponent. Plus, you had a great view of her ass right now so were as happy as can be during your break from training. 

Natasha looked at you and sent a cheeky, subtle wink towards you. You grinned at her like a fool. She was in every way the perfect woman for you. She’s the woman 

Just as you stood up and took a final gulp of water from your bottle, ending your break, one of the trainees, a young blonde girl, steeping in front of you, blocking your path.

“Hey, I was wondering if you could train with me and help me out with my stance.” Josie-Jessie-Jade, you hadn’t really cared to remember her name, asked as she played with a strand of her hair, twirling it around her slender, manicured finger. A tell-tale sign of flirting which you hadn’t noticed.

But Natasha did.

The girl had been flirting with you non-stop during the training sessions you helped lead. She had always found an issue which you just so happened to be the only one who could fix it. ‘Not like there’s any other superiors she could ask.’ Natasha thought bitterly as she watched on from the corner of her eye.

“Uh-sure. Why don’t you get into position and I’ll see what needs you’re doing wrong.” You instructed the young girl who giggled as she turned to get back on to the matt.

Once there, she plants her feet atop the cool surface, raising her arms out in front of her and bending her knees ever so slightly, sticking her ass further out than nessicary. 

You sighed heavily through your nose as you witness her positioning. ‘How did this girl even get as far as she has with S.H.I.E.L.D..’ You leisurely walked towards her, noting what she should do to make improvements.

“For starters, your knees are bent too much, that can throw you off balance.” You tap her knees until you’re satisfied with the amount they’re straightened. You proceeded to move her feet so they face a more efficient direction. Lastly, you moved to behind her, ready to correct her flimsy, half-arsed positioning of her arms.

“Your arms should be more bent. Bring your elbows towards your body, this will help you protect yourself.” You gripped her elbows with a gentle but firm grip, pulling them back inwards towards her torso. 

As your arms reach around each side of her, she pushes herself back into you, her back being forced to come into contact with your chest. “Like this?” She feigns innocence as she asks in a sickly-sweet voice, puffing her chest out, making them fall into your line of sight. 

You clear your throat and quickly detach yourself from her, making sure you advert your gaze from her eyes as she turns around. “Yeah, just like that. Keep practicing.” With that, you walk out of the training room hastily, leaving Josie-Jess-Jade confused and frustrated.

Natasha notices your quick departure and frowns, concerned about the one she loves. 

She turns her gaze towards the younger girl, a burning anger in her eyes as she stares for a moment. Natasha swore she would find out what was wrong later. 

Oh boy, she sure did. 

_______________

Natasha had yet to see you all day after training had concluded. She could tell something had upset you and had a possible reason as to why you were so quick to exit the room.

Ever since you two had started dating, you had always been mindful and concerned of your girlfriend, putting her before yourself. She knew that you hated the idea of hurting her or betraying her and whenever you thought you had, you would be over cumbered with guilt and then profusely apologize after some time to scold and punish yourself with horrid thoughts.

For as long as Natasha had known you, you had never betrayed her once. The multiple occasions you’ve said you had done so was purely an overreaction on your part. 

--- flashback ---

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to look at her. You know I’d never look at anyone else in the way I look at you. I’m so, so sorry. Please forgive me.” You spoke as you buried your face into the crook of her neck, holding her tightly, afraid that if you loosened your vice like grip around her waist for a millisecond, she’d leave in an instant. You’re breathing was erratic, clearly panicking about whether she’ll leave you ‘cause of your ‘slip up’.

“Y/N, seriously, you’ve done nothing wrong.” Natasha soothed into your ear, stroking your hair gently. “Just because you happened to look up from your phone the same time as that girl bent down, it doesn’t mean you messed up. It’s not like you were actively looking at her tits baby.” She cooed, trying to add humour into the situation but you clearly felt just as guilty as you did before.

“Babe, the fact that you looked away instantly just shows you not only have respect for me and our relationship, but to other women as well is one of the reasons I love you but please stop feeling guilty for something that’s not worth it.” Natasha continued.

You planted a small kiss upon Natasha’s shoulder before fully raising your head to look down at your girlfriend. “I love you.” You spoke quietly, afraid what would happen if your voice raised even a decibel higher.

Natasha looked into your eyes, still seeing the guilt you hold behind them and sighed. “I love you too, Y/N. Now, how about we finally head down to the living room for movie night?” She smiled as a small smile had broken on to your face also.

“Sure.” You grabbed her hand, interlocking your fingers with her before leaving your shared bedroom and heading to the elevator, ready to wrap your arms around your girlfriend on the couch whilst you and the rest of the Avengers watch Short Circuit.

--- end of flashback ---

Natasha has always loved your honestly and dislike towards disloyalty within relationships but sometimes, she felt as though you sometimes overreacted when someone flirts with you. 

She hates how you beat yourself up when you feel guilty about something you couldn’t have done anything about in a situation you were thrown into unwillingly.

As she walked along the hallways of the compound, she noted Steve, Bucky, Sam and Clint further up in the direction she was headed towards talking. Once Natasha got closer to the quartet of men, she asked of your whereabouts. 

“Last I heard, she was down in the lab, sitting quietly with Bruce and Tony.” Clint had answered his friend. The other three men nodded in agreement.

Natasha smiled in thanks before making her way towards the main lab that usually occupies Tony, Bruce and yourself.

finally reaching the lab, she was about to open the door when she heard the voices of the three of you talking clearly.

“I still feel bad, man. Whether something was on accident or not shouldn’t be an excuse for that.” You said in a solemn, guilt-ridden tone. “What makes you think she’ll say yes to marrying me if I’m constantly looking at other people!”

Natasha’s breath hitches at the mention of marriage. You wanted to marry her. A huge grin made its way on to her face, cheeks nearly splitting at how far her lips had upturned. The rest of your conversation was all but muted to her as she thought of being your wife.

Before the three could continue with their conversation, Natasha had opened the door and alerted you and the science bros of her entrance. She smiled widely towards you whilst you looked like a deer caught in the headlights of an on-coming truck. She paced quickly towards you then surged forward to connect her lips to yours.

Your eyes had widen in shock before quickly closing as you melted into the kiss, responding to the affection with just as much emotion. You held on to her hips with a feather-like touch, as if afraid she’ll break whilst her arms snake their way around your neck, pulling you deeper into her kiss. 

Before either of your lungs could collapse in on their selves from lack of oxygen, you broke apart. She grinned up at you as you looked down at her with a dazed expression embedded into your features. You hadn’t even noticed the pair of scientists leave their lab to give you two some much needed alone time.

“So, you wanna marry me, huh?” Natasha whispered in a playful tone. The blissful and content expression was quickly wiped off of your face as she said that and was quickly replaced with a deep red blush and a look of embarrassment at the fact that you had been caught red handed.

“I-uh-I,yeah, I uh-I’ve been meaning to ask you for a month now but I guessed it was never the right time.” You chuckled and smiled sheepishly down at your girlfriend.

“Or is it because whenever you plan to ask, you “mess up” and have to apologize.” Natasha had added air quotes around mess up as she truly believed that you have never done so once. Obviously, you’d beg to differ.

You looked down guiltily, scared to look the red head in the eye. “I’m sorry. I know I messed up again. She asked for my help and then I just kinda saw them. I’m so sorry. I get if you want to bre-”

You were cut off by Natasha gently pressing her soft lips to yours, them moulding together perfectly. She pulled away just as quickly as she had initiated the kiss and leaned her forehead on yours. “Ask me.” She whispers, eyes searching your own for something neither of you knew truly what for.

“What?”

“Ask me. That is, if you still wan to marry me.”

Realisation quickly crossed your features. It was almost comical how your eyes had widened and your mouth drop open into an ‘O’ as you frantically search your pockets for the velvety box.

Soon enough, you found the cuboid container and grasped it into your hand as you retracted it from your pocket in a tight grip. You dropped down on to one knee and cleared your throat at least 20 times before you attempted to speak. 

“Natasha,” The clearing of your throat had apparently not mattered as your voice had still broken into a higher pitch when you spoke her name. Quickly clearing your throat of the dry lump, you attempted your proposal once again. “Natasha, will you marry me? I did have a whole speech about two papers long but I forgot it, sorry.” Your sheepish smile barely concealed your nervousness as you waited for an answer.

“Yes, Y/N, yes I will marry you.” Natasha spoke as she nodded vigorously. You were stunned for a moment before speedily recomposing yourself and pulled the ring from the box to place upon your now fiancé’s finger. 

After you slipped the simple yet elegantly beautiful ring upon her slender, pale finger, she tugged you up with a huge burst of strength before once again plummeting her lips on to yours, kissing you feverishly, conveying both of your love for each other.

The kiss was soon broke and both your eyes had opened to reveal each others beaming smiles towards their loved one. “I think we should tell the others.” Natasha suggested.

“We already know. congratulations. Now, don’t fuck in my lab.” Tony spoke, soon followed by a scalding from Bruce and congratulations from the rest of the Avengers.

“Maybe we should do Banner and Stark a favour and keep their lab sanitary.” You chucked as you spoke. “There are a million places more comfortable that a lab for those kind of activities.”

“Well then, lead the way.” Natasha spoke with a hint of playfulness.

You smirked and grabbed the back of her thighs, signifying her to jump, which she did so gracefully, wrapping her legs around your torso and your hands move to hold her up by her ass. “Yes ma’am.”

And with that, you left with your fiancé to consummate your engagement with the love of your life, leaving behind the guilt of a non-existent issue.

_______________

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Yo I am in love with every female marvel character I swear

My first Natasha fic which I really enjoyed writing

I hope you enjoy

And as always, constructive criticism and requests are welcomed and greatly appreciated :D

[bokutosworld]

a wish come true | oikawa t. 

pairing: oikawa tooru x f!reader

wc: 1.6k words, fluff. domestic husband and wife relationship with my fave pretty setter <3 

summary: Oikawa loves Christmas. And what better way to celebrate his favorite season than with his avorite person in the world? 

this is part of the winter wonderland collab! masterlist here

Oikawa honestly believes that Christmas is the most wonderful time of the year. Ever since he was young, he has looked forward to waking up to snowy mornings and the sounds of Christmas carols playing in the house.

The holidays made him feel happy, warm, and blessed. More so now that he will be spending his first Christmas married to you.

Always the first one to wake up, Oikawa opened his eyes with a content smile on his face. A glance to the window on his right side and he sees the tiny snowflakes falling down, he can already imagine how they have painted the streets in white.

His eyes then land on the picture frame sitting on the bedside table. Stretching a hand to grab it, he admires the joyous moment where he has you engulfed in his arms, the two of you looking at each other with so much affection. It's like he traveled back in time as his body remembers the overwhelming feeling of joy from your wedding day. He recalls how he teared up seeing you walk down the aisle, smiling from ear to ear and looking gorgeous in your dress. He thought that you were an angel that descended from the heavens. Most of all, he still feels emotional, his heart beating twice as fast when he thinks back to the first kiss the two of you shared as husband and wife. It was a gesture that sealed a promise of a lifetime, the beginning of forever with the one and only person that completes his life.

He returns the photo in its place when he hears the rustling of the blanket and quiet groans as you slowly come awake. Oikawa shifts and admires your sleeping face, bringing a finger to gently trace the outline of your features starting from your eyebrows to the bridge of your nose and hovering over the shape of your lips.

You murmur softly, opening one eye to look at him. It never failed to make you warm when you are greeted with Oikawa's smile first thing in the morning. Groggily, you cup his face and tenderly stroke his cheek, "Good morning, love."

"Merry Christmas." He hums and leans closer, showering you with morning kisses. He has you trapped in his embrace as he continues to pepper you with love, and just like that the first few minutes of the Christmas Day are spent tangled in the sheets and enjoying each other's warmth.

While this was your first Christmas as a married couple, Oikawa didn't have that much expectations as how the day would go by. As long as he had you by his side, any activity became extra special - whether it's watching classic holiday movies, making a snowman on the park, or sipping on hot chocolates by the fireplace together. But there is one thing that he would like to make as a tradition for the Christmases to come.

"A Christmas market?" You ask when he shows you the event poster on his phone. Oikawa enthusiastically proposed the idea of heading down to the city and spend the evening in the annual Christmas market. Back when you were still dating, weekend bazaars and community fairs were events that you and Oikawa enjoyed. While these places were often crowded, the two of you managed to have fun and act lovey-dovey in your own little world, much to the envy of the people around you.

"I heard there will be a string quartet that will be performing later this evening," he suggested. "There's also an illuminations show near the square where a massive tree is located. And of course, our favorite food booths and vendors will be there." He takes your hand and looks at you expectantly, "What do you say?"

With the way Oikawa presented the idea, he seemed like a child talking about what he wants  for Christmas. And how could you say no to that?

Which is how you and Oikawa currently found yourselves decked in your coats and matching red and green scarves, hand in hand and standing in front of the brightly-illuminated arch that served as the entrance to the market. From your position, you can see the park bursting with life as many people came to enjoy with their loved ones. You can already see the different booths that were lined up in the path and Oikawa excitedly tugged you to the first stall that was selling gingerbread cookies in a box. 

"Love, can we take a 10 minute rest? I'm tired." You begged after spending the last 30 minutes upon your arrival, walking around and going from one booth to another to either play parlor games or stuff your stomachs with whatever food and snack you find. Of course, Oikawa didn't pass up on buying the Christmas gifts that he thought he could give to his former teammates.

Sensing your exhaustion, Oikawa relented and brought you to the nearest bench. As you sat down, he put the shopping bags by your side and bent down. He slid off one of your shoes and massaged the heels that were starting to hurt. Oikawa looked up at you inquisitively, "Is this helping? Am I doing this right?"

You chuckle, "Very much so. Thanks." He continued his ministrations for a few minutes, the joyful sound of Christmas carols filling the silence between the two of you. When he's done, he takes the space beside you and instinctively, you lean your head on his shoulders.

However, the quiet atmosphere didn't last for long as it was replaced by the loud wailing of a child who sat alone near your bench. Worried, you both stood up from your place and accompanied the little girl.

"Ssh, hey, princess, stop crying." Oikawa consoled her, gently patting the kid on the head as she continued to sob. Her frail body was shaking and you quickly brought her to your chest and embraced her,

"Where are your parents, sweetheart?"

Her answer came in a hushed tone, "I lost them. I let go of my mommy's hand. I'm scared." She was really terrified with the way her tiny hand gripped the lining of your coat. You glanced at Oikawa and he was also close to crying, his lips quivering as he was trying to stop the tears from flowing down his eyes.

Wiping away her cries, you comforted her, "Alright, don't worry. We're here for you, okay, sweetheart? Let's go find your parents. I'm sure they are looking for you right now."

You get up and offer your hand to the girl, but she surprised you when she clung on to Oikawa, hiding her face in his coat. His heart warmed at the action so he carried her in his arms all the way until she was reunited with her mom and dad.

Luckily, the search wasn't as difficult as you thought it would be. When you arrived at the customer service, a couple was already standing in wait. Their eyes widened when they saw you and Oikawa walking over with their daughter, and they couldn't be more thankful for keeping their little girl safe and returning her to their side.

Now, you and Oikawa were taking a stroll along the sidewalk, the cold evening breeze fanning over your faces and the lights decorated on the trees guiding the path. Oikawa's mind seemed to be somewhere distant as he simply looked straight ahead. You remember how he reassured the child when she hugged him tightly, and you thought that Oikawa would be a great father someday.

Oikawa suddenly stops in his tracks, turning to you with a look as if he has realized something. "Have I told you that I love you lately?"

So this was what he was thinking so seriously about. You smiled, "I don't know. You could always tell me again."

He nods and pulls you close to him, burying his face in your neck. He exhales your familiar and comforting scent, and it's like a fog clears in his head. "I'm so lucky to have you. You're everything that I have been wishing for and more."

"You're my dream come true," he murmurs. You were too stunned to say anything in response to his surprise confession. It's not like he hasn't openly declared his love for you before, but when he has outbursts like this, you were always bound to be speechless. Laughing awkwardly, you ask about what brought this on.

"I don't know," he sighs. "I just got too attached with the little girl earlier and I thought about how her parents might be feeling when she got separated from them. I realized I don't ever want to lose you." He stares at your eyes, hopeful as he says, "Or our future kid."

You blinked at his statement, mouth agape in shock as you thought about what he was implying. The gears were running in your head and when they finally clicked, that's when you found the courage to speak. "Are you saying-?

He lifts your hand and kisses it, "I know it’s too soon. We just got married seven months ago. But, I already want to start a family with you."

And as if on cue, you started tearing up uncontrollably. Probably out of happiness. Or maybe it was the raging hormones that you felt as you thought back to a morning two weeks ago, when you were sitting in the toilet and waiting for the results of your pregnancy test - two lines. Positive.

And here you were now, you couldn't think of a better time to share the good news with Oikawa. You were smiling through your tears as you looked at Oikawa, bringing his face close to yours as you whispered, "Looks like your wish came true earlier than expected."

His initial reaction was confusion, replaced by shock, then happiness as he unraveled the meaning of your words. He tackles you in an embrace, lifting and twirling you around as the snowflakes danced in the air. He already can't wait for next Christmas where there will be the three of you celebrating.

FIN. taglist - @aii-channn​ @peteunderoos​ @jungtoast​ @nekoclysm​ @our-tall-slytherin-queen​ @isabella5 @slippinglasses​ @yhyucklee @rowley-with-ackerman​ @lilacnoodles @ineedsomefoodpls​ (can’t tag those in italics!)

[firelord-frowny]

I finally did it, I finally Forreal Actual This Time emailed my therapist to ask about restarting therapyyyyyy

and in the same moment, I realized at least one reason why my productivity/effort to build my reputation as a reliable authority on violin education/technique/practice grinded to neck-snapping halt several months ago.

y’all.

my room.

is a DISASTER. An embarrassing disaster. Which, I mean, I’ve never been a tidy person, and tbh, as much as a disaster my room has been for the past several months, it’s still WAY better than I used to leave it when I was like 18ish and prior. 

But anyway, shortly after all the quarantine shit began, I completely cleaned out my room for the first time in years. Like, I went IN on this bitch. Packed up a bunch of old/unused stuff and put it in the attic. Gathered old clothes and donated them. Pulled all my furniture away from the walls and cleaned under/behind everything. Moved my bed to the other side of the room, nearer to the window (which was a BRILLIANT idea omfg). Cleaned my fish tank. Took everything out of my drawers and re-organized. Vacuumed. Dusted. 

It was immaculate! and I was SO pleased with myself. 

This was also around the same time that I’d begun putting more time and effort into recording violin stuff, and I did it in my room. Didn’t have to worry about waiting until the living room was empty. Didn’t have to worry about my dad or brother walking in and seeing me record and me feeling embarrassed about it because they’re both assholes who like to put me down every time they see me Doing Something that involves me focusing on myself in some way shape or form. 

But then my room started to get messy. And I’d think about recording, but then I’d be like ~nah, my room is dirty, i need to wait until after i clean it.~ 

but then the embarrassment and disappointment i felt in myself for letting it get dirty again just fucking obliterated my resolve. i was too fucking depressed about the fact that my room was dirty to clean my dirty room!* And so I just fucking quit creating content ever since. 

the thing that even brought me to this revelation is the fact that over the last few days I’ve been slowly cleaning my room. It looks SO much better now. The floor is still, uh, Not Good, but all of my surfaces are cleared and cleaned, my bed sheets are neat and freshly washed, and the pile of junk that had been causing my mattress to hang partially off of the bed frame is gone. 

all of a sudden, i feel like recording videos. 

all of a sudden, when the thought of making a cover or a tutorial or quartet arrangement crosses my mind, i’m not immediately plagued with the “but my room is dirty” thought. 

And ya know what finally kicked me into gear and got me to start cleaning????

my mom said she was gonna clean my room. She’s a Very Tidy Person and she’s been so bothered for YEARS that there are hella messy areas in our house. Basically, all of the common areas are well kempt, because she’s vigilant about keeping it that way. But the spaces that aren’t common? My room? My brother’s room? The garage? My dad’s ~office~ in the basement?

fucking disasters. 

and in the case of my own room, she told me in no uncertain terms that she was finally just gonna deal with it herself since I CLEARLY wasn’t going to. 

and then BAM, suddenly I’m cleaning my room. 

Bc like... 

1) my mommy has enough shit to do without also having to clean up after me,

and

2) there is no way in heaven or hell or earth or purgatory that I’m gonna be a whole 27 gotdamn years old with my MOM cleaning MY ROOM. Nope. Nu uh. Never. NEVER. If there’s one fucking thing that I can manage to be responsible about despite my many other shortcomings, it’s gonna be the maintenance of my room. not gonna burden anyone else with that. period. 

anyway, my moon lamps look so nice on my perfectly clean chest of drawers. <3

[somuchnonsense]

October Drabbles

Previous drabbles

26. Garden          (post-canon Wangxian featuring bunnies)

Wei Wuxian doesn’t have a farm yet, but he does have a garden on the back hill in Cloud Recesses. “Why here?” Lan Wangji asked him when he started planting. “The rabbits will eat everything.”

“I don’t mind if my hard work goes to feeding the rabbits,” Wei Wuxian responded, grinning. “Besides, I’m not here consistently enough to tend to it and harvest things when they’re ready. At least this way, someone will enjoy the fruits—or vegetables, I suppose—of my labor. And maybe then they’ll love me like they love you.”

Lan Wangji smiled, petting one of the rabbits as they both curiously watched Wei Wuxian work. “I’m sure they will.”

It’s debatable, a few months later, whether the rabbits love Wei Wuxian any more than before, but they do love Wei Wuxian’s garden, and Lan Wangji loves watching him kneeling in the dirt, celebrating the first shoots of a new plant or complaining when the rabbits ate one before it even had a chance to grow. He looks so happy, so comfortable, so relaxed, not the fearsome Yiling Laozu or the brilliant cultivator Wei Wuxian with his ever-active mind, but just an ordinary young man, content with his simple life, with no fears and no painful memories weighing on him.

“What’s that look for?” Wei Wuxian asks, eyeing Lan Wangji with a freshly pulled carrot in his hand. There’s dirt on his cheek and a sparkle in his eyes.

Lan Wangji says nothing, keeping his thoughts to himself, but Wei Wuxian smiles like perhaps he knows anyway, and cheerfully turns back to his garden.

27. Serendipity          (Wei Wuxian canon gen/character study)

It would be easy to think that Wei Wuxian has bad luck. He lost his parents young, and then the people who took him in when he was alone. He lost his adopted sister, and the people who lived with him like family for a year. He lost his golden core and the trust and respect of his peers, and the love of his adopted brother. He lost his home, and the one he found to replace it. And after all of that, he lost his life too soon.

But if you ask Wei Wuxian, he’ll tell you he’s lucky. He lost his parents, but then he was taken in by a new family. Sure, they weren’t perfect, but they saved him from a lonely life on the streets and they loved him, mostly. He lost them too, though not all at once, but then he had the Wens to care about him. That didn’t last, but he got Wen Ning and Sizhui back, at least, and he has the other junior disciples who are ready to fight for him, and Lan Wangji, of course. As much as he’s lost, he’s also been loved by many people, and isn’t that lucky?

As for the rest, well, the loss of his golden core was a fair trade for Jiang Cheng’s life, and it led him to abilities that helped avenge the Jiang Sect and defeat Wen Ruohan and later Jin Guangyao. He’s not the strong cultivator he was as a teenager, but he’s found new ways to be strong and fight the battles he needs to fight. He’s also blazed a new path and invented new things and made a name for himself, in his own way. Isn’t that lucky?

And yes, he died once, painfully, but that’s over and done with and he got a second chance at life. In his second life, he’s fallen in love, made new friends, done some good in the world, and at least done a little to make up for his past mistakes. So few people get a chance like that, including many who are much more deserving than him, so in the final sum, isn’t he lucky?

28. Drunk Confessions        �� (junior quartet gen)

It started with a few bottles of wine and Zizhen declaring that true friends share their secrets with each other, but nobody could have imagined that it would end like this.

"You're what?" Jin Ling asks, his voice low and strained.

"You're what?!" Jingyi echoes in a loud squawk.

"I'm a Wen," Sizhui repeats, his nervous expression belying his calm voice.

"You never told me!" Jingyi's voice is still far too loud, his expression almost comically betrayed. "How could I not know that?"

"You knew Hanguang-Jun took me in," Sizhui points out.

"Yes, but I thought your parents were Lan cultivators who died back then, or at least non-cultivators from Gusu. Not...Wens." Jingyi grimaces, but wipes the expression of his face when he sees Sizhui's face fall.

“Sizhui is still the same person, right?" Zizhen puts in. "And we know Wen Ning's a nice guy. It's not like all Wens are bad."

"Right," Jingyi firmly agrees. "But I can't believe you didn’t tell me sooner!”

"I didn't know until recently. After meeting Wei-qianbei and Wen Ning, some memories came back." Sizhui finishes the drink in front of him, getting some liquid courage before he looks at the conspicuously silent Jin Ling. "I'm sorry," he says quietly. "I hope this doesn't change anything between us."

Jin Ling clenches his fist on the table, brow furrowed, and for a long, tense moment, the whole group is silent. Finally, he sighs exasperatedly and says, "Well, it's far from the worst secret I've heard about someone I knew. Do you two at least not have any dark secrets?" He waves his cup and Jingyi and Zizhen.

"None, I promise," Zizhen declares.

"If I do, I don't know them myself," Jingyi says.

"I've met his parents," Sizhui interjects. "They're nice, normal Lan cultivators for several generations back."

"Good," Jin Ling says. To Sizhui, he adds, "For this, you can at least buy us another bottle or two of wine."

Sizhui smiles brightly, getting to his feet. "Right away."

29. Cars          (modern AU Wangxian featuring the Jiang sibs)

Jiang Cheng says Wei Ying drives like a maniac. Wei Ying says Jiang Cheng is a wimp and also boring and besides, he doesn’t go any faster than he can safely drive, but he does always slow down when he sees Jiang Cheng’s knuckles turning white.

“You’d better drive more carefully on your date with Lan Zhan,” Jiang Cheng tells him. “He probably drives perfectly the speed limit and obeys every traffic law to the letter. He won’t be able to deal with you.”

“I’ll be fine,” Wei Ying insists. “And it’s not a date!”

“Just don’t rush,” Yanli says. “You’ll have more time with Lan Zhan that way. And I’m pretty sure it is a date.”

“Not you too,” Wei Ying whines.

Later, though, when he picks Lan Zhan up and sees him looking very dashing even though he’s in what passes for casual clothes with him, Wei Ying has to admit that okay, yes, he wants it to be a date, and sure, okay, he wants to impress Lan Zhan, or at least not scare him away by driving too wildly. He forces himself to go only a little above the speed limit as he drives to the cafe where they’re going to study together, and Lan Zhan doesn’t complain or grab the panic handle like Jiang Cheng does.

On the way home, though, after endless hours of Lan Zhan sitting across from him looking casually hot but looking at his textbook or talking about economics instead of kissing Wei Ying, he forgets himself and drives as usual. Lan Zhan doesn’t say anything, so Wei Ying doesn’t realize what he’s doing until he stops in front of Lan Zhan’s building and sees him looking suspiciously paler than usual, his hand still gripping the door handle. “Oh, uh, Lan Zhan…you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Lan Zhan says tightly.

“Say, um…” Wei Ying feels bad and all, but he’s spent hours not kissing Lan Zhan and wishing this was a date and he just has to know if maybe it was, or at least could be. He unbuckles his seatbelt, turns in his seat and presses his lips to Lan Zhan’s. He’s not expecting to promptly get pulled into Lan Zhan’s lap, but he’s definitely not complaining, especially when it’s followed up with a whole lot more kissing.

They only stop when someone honks and Wei Ying realizes he didn’t pick the best parking spot for making out. “So,” he says, grinning shamelessly as he moves back into the driver’s seat, “let’s go out on another date some time soon?”

“All right,” Lan Zhan agrees without hesitation. He’s not smiling, but he is eyeing Wei Ying in a way that he really likes. “But next time, I’ll drive.”

30. Dessert          (modern AU Wangxian, just a tiny bit NSFW)

The first time Wei Ying sees Lan Zhan in a cafe daintily eating whipped cream off the top of a parfait, he can’t believe his eyes. There’s something so unexpected about strong, serious, stoic, ever-responsible Lan Zhan enjoying any kind of dessert, let alone the same kind Wei Ying’s sister and her friends love—unexpected and adorable.

“Wow, Lan Zhan! I had you pegged for the health food 24/7 type,” Wei Ying says, sneaking up on him from behind. He’s obviously trying to surprise Lan Zhan, but he doesn’t expect it to actually work, so he’s thrilled when it makes Lan Zhan jump and then turn a glare on him. “Hey, no judgment. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying something sweet.” The temptation to stick his finger in the whipped cream and dab some onto Lan Zhan’s nose is so strong, but Wei Ying doesn’t want to die today, so he restrains himself.

It takes nearly a year after that encounter for them to start dating, though Wei Ying does manage to put whipped cream on Lan Zhan’s face twice before that. (Maybe he should have guessed that Lan Zhan liked him, despite never mentioning it, by how he didn’t murder Wei Ying for doing that.) It takes another five months after they get together for Wei Ying to convince Lan Zhan that whipped cream will also be delicious when licked off his body, but oh, is it worth it.

31. Trick or Treat          (modern cultivation AU, A-Yuan and Wangxian)

    “I want to go as Uncle Wen!” A-Yuan declares.     Wei Wuxian blinks at him, turns and blinks at Lan Wangji, and then starts to laugh. “I mean, I think a ghost or a vampire or a cat or something is more typical, but sure, you can go as a fierce corpse.”     “Not a fierce corpse!” A-Yuan protests. “Uncle Wen!”     Lan Wangji gives Wei Wuxian his patented You are not treating this child as he should be treated look. “Yes, of course,” Wei Wuxian amends. “We’ll find you the best Wen Ning costume anyone has ever had.”    “Can Uncle Wen come with me?” A-Yuan asks.    Wen Ning won’t do well with crowds or a sugar high A-Yuan, but on the other hand, he’ll blend in on Halloween in a way he usually can’t. “We’ll all come with you,” Lan Wangji tells him.    “Yay!” A-Yuan jumps up and down in excitement. “What will you be? Ooh, I know! You should be a bunny.” He gestures at Lan Wangji, and then to Wei Wuxian, “And you should be a carrot.”    “A carrot?” Wei Wuxian grimaces. “Come on, between the two of us, don’t I look more like a bunny?”    “At least he didn’t say a donkey.” Lan Wangji keeps his voice low, and before A-Yuan can demand that he repeat it, says, “Those are excellent choices.”    “You’re so mean to me,” Wei Wuxian whines, but that doesn’t stop him from going out on Halloween evening in a big carrot costume, hand in hand with rabbit Lan Wangji, with mini Wen Ning skipping on ahead of them and actual Wen Ning looking fondly on.

[stuonsongs]

My Top 10 Favorite Songs of All Time - 2006 Edition

2021 Editor’s Note: I was looking through some old files and found this thing that I wrote sometime in the summer of 2006 at age 22. For all I know, it could’ve been 15 years to the day! Looking back, I’m not sure how many of these songs would still make my top 10. Don’t get me wrong, I still love all of these tunes, but I’m sure you know how it goes - You get older, you get exposed to more things, and your idea of good music expands. Anyway, I thought it might be nice to share with anyone who still uses this site. I present it in its original format without edits to my writing. I ended up writing full posts in this blog about some of these songs if you go through the archive. 

Stu’s Top 10 Favorite Songs…Ever

Let’s start with some honorable mentions. These were so close, and I thought about it for so long, but they had to be left off.

Honorable Mentions

All Summer Long – The Beach Boys

All Summer Long. 1964. Capitol

This song has been described so many times as being “the perfect summer song.” When you listen to it, you can’t help but smile from the opening marimba intro, all the way through. It just screams “summer” and it hurt me to leave The Beach Boys off my top 10.

Bleed American – Jimmy Eat World

Bleed American. 2001. Grand Royal

So full of energy, so rocking, and so what would’ve been the most recent song on my list. I wanted to keep it in the top 10 just so I could have a song from the ‘00s, but it wasn’t meant to be. When the chorus kicks in, I can’t help but headbang.

Marie – Randy Newman

Good Old Boys. 1974. Reprise

Randy has said that a lot of young composers pick “Marie” as their favorite Newman song, and I can see why. The idea of a guy having to be drunk to tell his wife that he loves her is pretty funny, and throughout the whole song it’s just the beautiful melody with tons of strings, all to a tune about a guy ripping on himself as he comes home drunk to his wife.

Does He Love You? – Rilo Kiley

More Adventurous. 2004. Brute/Beaute

I guess this is newer than Bleed American, so it would’ve worked too. This is another more recent song that it killed me to leave off the list. The outro is an arrangement of the main tune with a different chord progression performed by a string quartet. Very beautiful. Also when Jenny Lewis screams “Your husband will never leave you, he will never leave you for me,” I get chills every time.

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

So here it is. After a long day’s work, I’m finally finished. It actually turned out much different than I was thinking when I first started. The number one wasn’t really even in my top five when I started, but I slowly realized I loved it so much. I also left Ben Folds (Five) off this list completely, and I don’t know, I just feel the whole catalogue of Ben is so solid, none of the songs stick out to me that much. But anyways, here it is! After the break of course…

Stu’s Top 10

10.

(Love Is Like A) Heat Wave – Martha and the Vandellas

Heat Wave. 1963. Motown.

This one beat out “Bleed American” just barely. The reason being that somehow, despite being nearly 40 years older than Bleed American, it still has so much energy that it kills. Dan Bukvich once told our Jazz Arranging class that you can boil all the oldies you hear on the radio down to three categories: 1) Great Song. 2) Great Performance. 3) Great Arrangement. This song is one of the great performances. The handclaps throughout, combined with the driving baritone sax behind everything and constant snare drum action will keep anybody with blood running through their veins dancing all night long.

9.

Bodhisattva – Steely Dan

Countdown to Ecstasy. 1973. MCA

This song is my Freebird. It’s just a basic blues progression song at its core with some minor changes at the end of the form. The real kicker that drives this song home is the three minute guitar solo in the middle that isn’t nearly as rocking as Freebird, but it is highly proficient and takes me to places that just make me want to play the song over and over again. I have no idea what this song is about, probably Buddhism, but hey, this once again proves that lyrics rarely matter and the music itself is the core.

8.

Zanzibar – Billy Joel

52nd Street. 1978. Columbia

This song reminds me of long car rides on vacations down the west coast with my parents growing up. They used to play a tape of 52nd Street, or at least their favorite selections, constantly on these trips. I didn’t hear this song again until early in my senior year in college and remembered why I loved it so much. The song has a heavy jazz influence, displayed in the breakdown where Jazz trumpeter Freddie Hubbard does a solo. The best part of this song though is at the end of the 4th line of each verse, Billy does this “Woah oh oh!” thing that just makes me want to sing every time. It was between this and “Miami 2017 (Lights Go Out On Broadway)” which is also a great song, but the “Woah oh oh!” is too much for ol’ Stu boy.

7.

Rosalita (Come Out Tonight) – Bruce Springsteen

The Wild, the Innocent, and the E Street Shuffle. 1973. Columbia

Early Bruce Springsteen records have something that very few other artists can ever pull off without sounding cheesy or forced. It has this undeniable sense of urgency, like the world will fall apart and life will crumble through your fingers if this one moment in time doesn’t work out the way Bruce describes it. There are so many early Springsteen songs that just set a scene of “We have to get out of this town right now girl before it kills us, no matter what any of our parents, friends, anybody has to say.” There’s a line that kinda sums it up: “Well hold on tight, stay up all night ‘cause Rosie I’m comin’ on strong. By the time we meet the morning light, I will hold you in my arms. I know a pretty little place in southern California down San Diego way. There’s a little café where they play guitars all night and all day. You can hear ‘em in the back room strummin’, so hold tight baby ‘cause don’t you know daddy’s comin’.”

6.

I’ve Got You Under My Skin – Frank Sinatra

Songs For Swingin’ Lovers! 1956. Capitol

This song falls into the category of great arrangement. This Cole Porter classic tune was arranged for Sinatra by Nelson Riddle. The story goes that he was still copying down parts for the players while riding in the cab to the recording studio on the day of recording. After the players ran through it once with Frank, they stood up and applauded. The Baritone sax takes control here, outlining a Db6/9 chord throughout the intro. Of course, Frank’s vocal delivery is spot on and goes up and down in all the right places for the biggest emotion impact. It’s amazing how a song with no real chorus can be so good.

5.

A Change Is Gonna Come – Sam Cooke

Ain’t That Good News. 1964. RCA Victor

This song was not even going to be on this list, but then I ran across it while scouring my collection of music and remembered how good it was. Then I listened to it and was blown away by the level of detail that went into this arrangement. Sam’s vocals soar above the mind blowingly beautiful arrangement. The lyrics to this one actually add to the tune itself, speaking of wrongdoings in the world around him, and how social change is on its way in the form of the civil rights movement. The song flows with such ease out of Cooke that one might forget the weightiness of the content, but the song’s content is just so heavy that it’s impossible to deny it.

4.

Whatever – Oasis

Whatever EP. 1994. Creation

This song was released as a Christmas present to the U.K. from the Gallagher brothers and company. It never appeared on any full album, only being released as a single, and amazingly, it blows away anything else they’ve ever done. Think “All You Need Is Love,” but with tons of rocking energy and a snide, nonchalant attitude. The chorus speaks, “I’m free to be whatever I, whatever I choose and I’ll sing the blues if I want. I’m free to be whatever I, whatever I like, if it’s wrong or right, it’s alright.” Not exactly poetry, and the song isn’t exactly breaking any new ground either, but the song is absolutely perfect in every way, and it was going to be my #1, but perhaps the only reason it’s not at number one is because I’ve played this song so many times that at the moment, these next three are beating it, but who knows how I’ll feel in a few months. This song also pulls the same “outro performed by a string quartet” thing as “Does He Love You?” but even better. It’s so simple, but I can’t get enough of it.

3.

Mr. Blue Sky – Electric Light Orchestra

Out of the Blue. 1977. Jet

This is obviously the best Beatles song that the Beatles never wrote. The staccato guitar during the verse combined with the strings present in just about every ELO song combine to make a force that is undeniably catchy and musically challenging at the same time. This is really what makes ELO so good. I didn’t discover this song till probably Nov. 2005, and it was one of the best days of my life. I didn’t want to include two songs by the same artist in my top 10, but if I did, I probably would’ve added “Turn To Stone” on this list too because it is almost as awesome as this one. It’s a shame that just like Billy Joel, most critics at the time hated ELO for being overly creative musically (they called it pretentiousness). These days we have acts that really are pretentious (see Radiohead), but everyone loves them, even critics. I’m not knocking all Radiohead, just most everything post OK Computer. Sorry, got a little sidetracked there.

2.

Only In Dreams – Weezer

Weezer. 1994. Geffen

This has been my favorite Weezer song since about a month into me picking up Weezer’s debut album back around early 2000. It has this ostinato (a repeated motif over and over again) in the bass throughout most of the whole song, never even really resolving to the Gb major chord (excluding chorus, which never really resolves) that it wants to until the end of a 3 minute contrapuntal guitar duet when everything dies out except the bass which just retards on its own until it finally plays the single Gb we’ve all been waiting for. The song on the whole up until the guitar duet is pretty tame, but once those contrapuntal guitar lines start intertwining, my ears perk up every time. I can sing both lines at separate times upon request and when the drums finally kick back in fully at the climax of the song, I let out a sigh of relief or bang on my car wheel in exultant joy, whichever is more of an option at the time.

1.

All Is Forgiven – Jellyfish

Spilt Milk. 1993. Charisma

I always loved this song from the first time I heard it, but I didn’t realize how much I loved it until maybe April 2006. I found out about Jellyfish first semester of college in the Fall of ’02 and heard this song, and knew it was great. The constant tom-tom driven drums, the fuzzy, almost white noise distorted guitar, and the half time bass throughout. It was great. Then in April I put it on my mp3 player for the walk to school, and then I listened to it for about two weeks straight. Seriously. It runs into the next song entitled “Russian Hill” which is almost as good, but because it’s a separate song, I couldn’t include it on the list, but in my mind, they always run together and are basically one long 9 minute song. The ending just gets more and more white noise filled until you can barely take it anymore and then it just cuts off completely into the slow acoustic intro for Russian Hill. It’s perfect in every way. I think this would fall into the category of great song. And the way the song builds up right to the middle of the song and then cuts out completely except for some very VERY faint xylophone noodling, and then busts back in with some feedback directly into guitar solo. Man I love this song.

[houseofhurricane]

ACOTAR Fic: Bloom & Bone (4/32) | Elain x Tamlin, Lucien x Vassa

Summary: Elain lies about a vision and winds up as the Night Court’s emissary to the Spring Court, trying to prevent the Dread Trove from falling into the wrong hands and wrestling with the gifts the Cauldron imparted when she was Made. Lucien, asked to join her, must contend with secrets about his mating bond. Meanwhile, Tamlin struggles to lead the Spring Court in the aftermath of the war with Hybern. And Vassa, the human queen in their midst, wrestles with the enchantment that turns her into a firebird by day, robbing her of the power of speech and human thought. Looming over all of them is uniquet peace in Prythian and the threat of Koschei, the death-god with unimaginable power. With powers both magical and monstrous, the quartet at the Spring Court will have to wrestle with their own natures and the evil that surrounds them. Will the struggle save their world, or doom it?

A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this chapter -- so many gowns and flowers! people who are doing what they love to do! Nesta! -- but also it's hard to keep putting Elain through the wringer. That said, I am very excited to show you more of What Is Going On With Elain. You can find all chapters here.

“I didn’t think that Tamlin’s gardens extended so far into the forest,” Mor says, leaning against a tree. She’s been delivering flowers from the continent over the past three days, and once the plants are handed over to the gardeners, she finds an excuse to hover over Elain while she gardens. Elain is sure that Mor has received instructions not to leave her alone, but she doesn’t mind chatting with Mor while she gardens, preparing all the special plots she’s not sure she could convey to the Night Court gardeners in words.

“I’m trying something new,” Elain says, patting the soil around a columbine, the blue and white flowers bobbing in the fragrant breeze. “These flowers are happier in the wild.”

“Any news from Tamlin?”

“You may be scaring him away.” She aims a smile at Mor to show she’s mostly joking. “I’ve seen him in the gardens a few times but we’ve only exchanged pleasantries about the renovations. Feyre warned me that he takes hardly anybody into his confidence.”

She feels the golden weight of Mor’s gaze, the frank and generous assessment that Elain has always loved and admired, even those first months after the Cauldron. Mor sparkles like champagne, effortless and loveable and impossible to forget.

“You have the makings of an excellent spy,” Mor says, apparently out of nowhere.

Elain snorts, and Mor laughs at the sound, the way she always has, the overwrought daintiness that, she’s told Elain a dozen times, she can’t quite believe is real. Elain has never told Mor about the hours she spent practicing the sound until it was pretty, the way she was always expected to be.

“I’m not trying to flatter you,” Mor continues when she’s collected herself, settling herself more firmly against her tree, so that her golden hair catches on the bark, “I mean it. A good spy is a person you’d never expect, a pleasure to talk to, someone who listens well.”

“Azriel never said--” Surely the spymaster of the Night Court would have recognized her potential if it had ever existed.

“Az can be a little blind when it comes to the people he cares about.” There’s a strain in Mor’s voice, which Elain thinks she’s being allowed to detect it, because she’s heard Mor’s effortless diplomacy in a hundred more trying situations. “He likely wouldn’t want you to come to any harm.”

“And you do?” Elain asks, to keep the conversation going more than anything, while she works on the hole for the bleeding hearts, her favorite forest flowers, the pink and white blooms almost too good to be true. Give her enough time at the Spring Court and she’ll adorn the forest with them, all the way to the human lands, to their wretched cottage and straight on to that little village that never cared if the Archerons lived or died.

“Of course I don’t want you to be hurt,” Mor says, firm enough that Elain realizes she angled the question too harshly. “It’s only -- I think that maybe you are tired of beauty alone. Not that it isn’t enough. I’ve spoken with so many people who have found healing in the gardens you’ve helped them build.”

“But you think I could be useful in other ways.” Elain looks up at Mor from her crouch on the forest floor, and sees the other female’s worried expression. She wipes a scraggle of hair off her brow, feeling the dirt as it forms a smudge. “There’s something you aren’t telling me, Mor.”

“Do you ever get tired of being seen as easily broken?”

Elain finds that her hands are grasping air, the bleeding heart having fallen from her gloved hands and into the ground with hardly a thump.

“Only when I can’t --” she starts saying when she knows she won’t begin to cry, because what’s inside her is pathetic and dangerous enough, and therefore must be spoken as prettily as possible. “I think there is something truly wretched and useless inside me. I think that’s what you see when you tell me I could have this other life.”

Mor takes Elain’s shoulder in her palm and squeezes, then says, “I grew up in a place where I was a beautiful object to everyone but my own heart. I worry, Elain, that you have fooled yourself and believe that’s all you could be.”

The vision swims up through Elain’s mind, so vivid even on repeat that she almost gasps with the force of it, the sheer power of the Crown on her head, Tamlin looming over her, the life in him banked in the gloom, though he’s still broad and tall and handsome and breathtaking in spite of everything, though these are thoughts she would never admit, not even if the vision were pulled from her by force, even if a knife were held to her throat. Before, considering the vision, she thought they’d be in his ruined estate, but that’s changing thanks to Laella and her builders, fixing the rooms wrecked by Tamlin’s rage and the obliging elements, and adding all those sparkling windows and interior gardens, so apparently she will one day go and build her own house of horrors.

She does not know the first thing about being useful, has no idea how to prevent this fate, except for her certainty that her jealousy and wretchedness will lead her there. And perhaps she was born to be more than a sweet and pretty girl who men could easily fall in love with. Perhaps that is how she can unravel the vision, make a new future in which she can be approximately good. Or perhaps that is how she becomes the crowned monster on the throne. The visions never contain sufficient instruction for Elain to know that she’s avoided the future until the moment passes by, the danger suffocated by a new reality. She’s all too aware that, for example, there are other battlefields on which Cassian could be killed.

She does not tell Mor any of this, only: “Tell me how to be a spy.”

And calmly, in her sparkling voice, Mor begins the lesson.

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On Elain’s last night at the Night Court, Nesta enters her room without knocking.

“You thought I’d let you leave without a goodbye?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest, the ring Cassian gave her at their mating ceremony brilliant even in the candlelight.

“I knew I’d see you at dinner.”

“You left without a word to anybody.”

Gwyn and Emerie had been there, and everyone had laughed, and a small cross part of Elain had felt as though they would all be fine without her. Azriel, across the table from her, had been smiling and laughing, content as she’d never seen him, his hazel eyes golden when he so much as glanced at Gwyn. Elain had left as soon as she finished dessert, telling Feyre she had a headache, and her sister had squeezed her hand firmly enough that Elain knew she’d heard the lie in her words. In the morning, she would start her residence in a new court. For a little while at least, she’d be able to leave these feelings behind.

But of course Nesta had found her.

“Did you really ask Rhysand to send you to the Spring Court?” Occasionally Nesta will still believe the worst of him, despite all the witnesses to the contrary.

“It was my vision,” Elain tells her. “I’m the one who--”

“You know what Tamlin did to Feyre.”

“I’m not--” She stops, not sure what she’s going to say next. Without a plan, the next words will surely be too revealing. “You were the one who once said I could stand to be more useful in this world.”

“If he so much as lays a hand on you, I swear to you I will un-Make him.”

“I expected nothing else,” Elain says, and the smile is easy. All her life, she has been comforted by Nesta’s growling, known that she’s always been safest inside the circle of her sister’s wrath.

“And in spite of everything, I’m glad that you’ll finally see the Spring Court.” Nesta’s words are a grudging grumble, their impact lessened by her hand in Elain’s, the two of them in a long embrace that says everything they have a hard time saying, now that everything has changed. “I heard that Tamlin is unleashing you on his gardens.”

Elain knows that Nesta truly loves her because her sister listens to her plans and ideas and dreams for the garden for an hour, despite the fact that she has no more than a passing interest in even the most exquisite blooms. She even asks Elain about the arrangements of colors and fragrances, and Elain pulls out her parchments and perfumes so that Nesta can have the closest thing to a full garden experience it is possible to conjure indoors.

“Who knows, maybe one day you’ll bring one of your novels to the finished gardens.”

Nesta makes a sound between a snort and a growl, totally unique to her sister, that prickly glee, but then her face grows somber.

“I keep thinking that he’s finally got what he wanted, when he showed up at our cottage years ago.”

“Tamlin isn’t dragging me out into the snow,” Elain says, though she doesn’t remember the scene, a side effect of the glamor that turned Feyre’s disappearance into a joyous reversal of fortune.

Sometimes she wonders what memories her mind has hidden from itself, what secrets it’s been forced to keep silent.

Nesta’s hands are around hers, squeezing until Elain can feel their pulses beating, aligning as they look at one another.

“I never wanted to give you up,” Nesta says. “I would have let him shred me to pieces before I let him touch you.”

Elain knows she should tell Nesta she’s not as fragile as her sister thinks, but that would lead to a conversation which would be deep and cutting and maybe devastating. Instead she reaches for Nesta and holds her close, murmurs that she will be all right, until Feyre enters and hugs them both, and when the three of them wake up hours later in Elain’s bed, warm and sleepy, Elain wonders, half-asleep, why she ever thought of leaving.

But when her sisters have gone to their mates’ beds, and Elain is alone again, her sleep is not dark and dreamless as before. Instead she dreams of her father as she last knew him alive, the straight back and broad shoulders and thinning hair and the kind smile that made his lips disappear. When Elain was little and bold enough to ask about such expressions, he told her that his joy had swallowed up his lips, he was so glad to see her, and then he would whirl her around until she’d give unladylike whoops and get scolded. After what feels like an eternity of watching him, it occurs to Elain that she has never been to the place where they’re standing, a gray-blue blur that looks like the inside of a cloud or wall of seawater.

“Where are we?” Elain asks, with none of the certainty she experiences in dreams.

Her father’s face clouds, the smile winking out, and she begins to wonder how, exactly, this dream will turn nightmarish. She’s already seen his corpse.

“There is only one thing I can tell you, sweet one.” Her father’s eyes are glinting, his fingers balled into fists, the knuckles the same skimmed-milk color as the air around them. “The thing you seek is inside of you. It is inside of--”

He is reaching for her, as if to indicate the location of the thing, and then he vanishes, and Elain opens her eyes in bed, the light through her window still gray, her mind racing, the way she always feels after a vision.

A thousand questions immediately surface. How can her father appear to her in the future? Where is he, that she can find him and receive directions? And who has silenced him? Has he seen the monstrosity inside of her? And if he has, she does not understand how he can smile at her in that way, so lifelike and tender.

Elain breathes deep again and again, trying to will herself to sleep, hoping she will see him, hoping for even just another second of his smile. She’d always loved the way her father beheld her, that delight. For years she’d imagined a similar expression on her husband’s face. His features shifted depending on her circumstances and feelings, except for the light in his eyes, the smile with joy that would gladly pay whatever cost was required of it.

Morning arrives and she is still staring at the ceiling, trying to puzzle everything through.

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Elain’s arrival at the Spring Court is more uneventful than even she anticipated. Tamlin greets her and Rhys and Mor in a smooth and practiced way that leaves his rage only an assumption, even when Rhys makes veiled threats during his goodbyes, promising to return whenever she’d like for a visit to the Night Court. When he’s gone and Tamlin has left her to the company of the newly hired servants, while Mor winnows to the continent for the last of the tulips, Elain makes her way to the newly renovated room that will house her at this estate.

The room is perfect, in shades of pink and white, the white warm and bright, and the pink-upholstered sitting area almost mauve. On every flat surface, there are flowers, their scents carefully considered so that the room is fragranced but not oversaturated, and the outside wall is nearly all window, with a view of the woods, the growing hedge of tulips which is even more gorgeous than the last time she’d seen it, two days ago. The curtains are gauzy pink, thin enough that she’ll always be able to wake up to this view, the blossoms and the gentle fluttering of leaves in the breeze.

She had explained her favorite colors to Laella, hoping the dryad wouldn’t think she sounded like a little girl, and instead she walked into the most beautiful space she’s ever been able to claim. Tamlin told her that a maid would arrange her things, but Elain hangs her dresses and stores her jewelry in the cunning little box that keeps each chain and thread from tangling, arranges her perfumes on the vanity until there’s a knock at her door and the maid enters, not looking Elain in the eyes as she walks over to the trunks and boxes. She’s half Elain’s height and her skin is pink and her hair is alabaster, so that for a second Elain wondered what lengths Laella took, to make this room so perfect.

“I am sorry to be late, Lady,” the maid says, her voice a buzzing hum, the sound of bees drowsy on nectar, an accent Elain adores immediately.

“Nonsense,” she says, reaching out to squeeze the maid’s hand, gentle and watching in case the faerie flinches away. She never forgets her training. “And please call me Elain.”

“The High Lord said--”

Elain waves her hand, trying for imperious, in command, the kind of person Tamlin would trust with his military stratagems and political intrigue. “Leave the High Lord to me. You can call me whatever you’d like in front of other people, but I’m just Elain.”

“There are whispers about you, Lady. The winds say that the Cauldron granted you great powers.”

Elain would say that unreliable bits of the future don’t seem like such a remarkable gift, but she’s not sure whether the deprecation would help or hurt her cause.

“What is your name?” she asks instead, shifting her tone so it’s gentle as the petal of a rose.

“I’m Melis, Lady.” The faerie’s hands have not strayed from Elain’s clothes, arranging them on the hangers so that the pleats and ruffles fall just so, and there’s a longing in her eyes that reminds Elain of the way she’d look at roses in those years when she was poor and they would not grow in her pitiful garden by the cottage.

“Would you like one of my dresses?” Elain asks, after Melis has hung the golden gown she never feels quite ready to wear but loves to admire among the other dresses, a ray of sunlight in her wardrobe.

“Lady, the offer is generous, but I do not know where I would wear such a fine gown.”

“There are no celebrations in the village?”

“Nothing that requires a gown so… elaborate. And the High Lord allowed me to design the servants’ liveries.”

For the first time, Elain looks at the maid’s dress, the green-gray muslin gown which is moulded perfectly to Melis’ shoulders and torso, the skirts light enough to allow an easy movement but sufficient to sweep aside for a dramatic moment. The color makes Melis even rosier, her sparkling white hair striking. Even the white fichu at the neckline is soft and light and lovely. She thinks of the elegance of the new footmen, the muted green of their tunics. No doubt Melis had designed their garments. Elain feels slow, not to have caught these details right away.

“You have quite an eye for clothing.”

“I learned from my mother. She was employed by the High Lord, for the ladies of his court, before Amarantha. I grew up learning the possibilities of fabrics.” Another darting look at Elain. She’s sure that Melis is thinking of Feyre.

“I don’t want to give you more work, but I’m sure that most of my gowns could use some adjustments.”

Melis smiles, her teeth flashing white and pointed. “I would love that, Lady, though I doubt your dresses will need much improving.”

Elain shrugs and smiles while she reaches for a simple muslin gown, a dusty pink from which Nuala and Cerridwen have removed a hundred garden stains. As Melis helps her with the buttons, Elain jams a broad-brimmed hat on her head, her pointed ears squashing against the braided straw.

“If anyone asks, I’m in the garden,” she says as she heads toward the door, Lucien’s gloves in her pocket. The thought of seeing him today is warm in her stomach, and she can’t tell if the feeling is anticipation or anxiety. She’s my mate, he’d said, and though she’d barely been able to understand in those moments of terror and confusion, the first of her new life, the words have clung to her, defining too many aspects of her existence. She knows she would feel differently if she’d wanted him, if she’d felt the curl of affection and desire that Azriel roused from her as she awakened into her new life, the first beacon she’d been able to glimpse. Even what she felt for Greysen was stronger. Even knowing what she knows now, how he would reject her new self.

Whenever she sees Lucien, there’s a great whirling inside Elain: all of her wants to want him, and that swarm of hoped-for desire swirls around itself, centered on nothing. She’s encountered this feeling before, as a young debutante, but she always knew that at the next ball, another gentleman might catch her eye, that her father or else Nesta would save her from anyone particularly daunting. Now her father is dead and mates are a certainty and tonight, Elain will be face-to-face with Lucien again, practically alone with him in Tamlin’s estate.

She’s halfway across the grounds before she launches herself against a broad chest. Her hat lands in a lilac bush with a bristly sigh, and Elain knows she’s too slow to realize the sheathed knife that’s pressed against her nose, the dagger that would cut her cheek except for the leather around it.

When she finally meets them, Tamlin’s eyes are not as annoyed as she anticipated.

“Someone told me these gardens would be so beautiful that my guests would be compelled to linger,” he says, his fingers ghosting her shoulders as she rights herself. “I had assumed this meant they would be preoccupied by the flowers, not their own thoughts.”

He stands there for a moment, hands dangling at his sides, as if he’s waiting for her to laugh, but Elain’s not sure if he’s made a joke, and anyway nothing he said is particularly funny. Why she would use the Crown to compel him, Elain has no idea. Still, guided by both her mother’s training and Mor’s rudimentary instructions on spycraft, she schools her lips into a gentle smile, and averts her eyes. Let him think she’s shy, awed by the presence of the High Lord of Spring.

“Is everything to your liking?” he asks, finally. His thumb strokes the jeweled hilt of the dagger strapped to his chest. “I know the builders are still filling the place with noise, but, for example, your room...”

“My room is lovely,” she says before he can fumble for another phrase. Their previous conversation, their first time alone together, had been almost too easy, too revealing, and she wonders if he’s remembering it now, is determined not to revisit that swarm of truths. She herself feels too exposed already, even if she’s checked to determine that her mental shields are still in place. “It makes me feel as if I’m in the center of a flower.”

His smile is barely a quirk of his lips and Elain remembers all the stories she’s heard about him, particularly rumors that he’s spent the past two years as a beast, and she wonders if all that time in his other form has made certain expressions difficult. If conversation is difficult, and now that Rhys isn’t present, Tamlin has allowed a bit of that discomfort to show.

A generous bumblebee examines the crown of her hat, which is still perched in the branches of the lilacs.

“There was a story I heard when I was a little girl,” she says, almost without thought, only wanting to put them both at ease, “about a girl who was only the size of a human thumb. She lived inside the flowers and her friends were butterflies and birds and squirrels. The pages fell out of the book right where the story was written, from all the times my governess read me the tale.”

“You have always wanted to be smaller?”

Elain blushes at the question and she’s not sure why. Maybe because of the truth nestled inside the words.

“Maybe,” she says, not wanting the awkwardness between them to expand further. She wants pleasant conversation, light and meaningless. He will never trust her if her emotions are ragged, if she demands too much from him all at once. “But I have always loved the feeling inside a garden, the idea of beauty and nature all in perfect harmony. There are so many dark and dreadful corners of the world. A garden is never one of them.”

“I’m afraid I don’t agree with your assessment. That beauty could banish evil seems a tall order.”

“Now you will speak to me of sacrifice and war.” She’s slipping into the tone she found so easily at their last meeting, a veneer of confidence that makes her sound unbreakable, which perhaps glosses over her more unsavory truths. “But will you tell me, what happens when the war is over, when the time for sacrifices has ended?”

“I have rarely known such a time.” He looks so grave and certain and miserable that Elain knows she should make her way to the tulip fields, and at the same time, that she will needle him a little longer, until the expression is gone from his face. Her one little act of well-intentioned mischief.

“Then what keeps you fighting when all hope and certainty of your own goodness has left you?”

“In those moments I don’t allow myself to think. And you are thinking that I am some tragic hero, Elain Archeron, but you have never been in battle. Thinking is dangerous. It is easiest to empty the mind and unleash your body on its enemies.”

She is wide-eyed for a moment too long.

“I have offended you,” he says, “but I am only telling the truth.”

“I am only thinking, how sad it is, to be forced to sacrifice so endlessly.”

“One begins to think of any spark of joy as an earned reward.” His face is grave. He is thinking, she knows, of Feyre, the words the barest suggestion of an apology.

“Thank the Mother, then, for your gardens,” she says, and plucks her hat from the lilac. “I will see you at dinner?”

“Lucien and Vassa will arrive shortly after sundown. I imagine you would like to greet them, and then we will all dine.”

She nods and allows her skirts to swirl as she makes her way further into the garden, letting the blooms fill her vision until she’s only thinking of the proper arrangements, the groupings of plants that would make any being happy, and calm, and nearly overtaken by gratefulness that such simple beauty, such sweet fragrance, could exist.

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Elain is sweetly tired when she makes her way into the great hall of the Spring Court. She’d spent the day amidst the tulips, supervising the arrangements of color that she wants to look disordered but still correct, no corner dominated by red or violet blooms but rather as if a meadow’s riot of color had been transfigured into a mass of tulips.

Tamlin waits at the foot of the staircase, and when she’s halfway down and he looks up at her, Elain is glad she wore the deep blue dress which makes her skin glow like a pearl and her bearing a little more regal than usual. She feels, just for a moment, like the rightful emissary of the Night Court, not the High Lady’s sister who lied her way into someplace she’d never been.

Right as she’s made it to the bottom of the staircase, the servants sweep open the large wooden doors, and Lucien and Vassa appear, both of them gleaming bronze despite the lack of sunlight. As the pair of them approach, Elain dips into a deep curtsey that befits Vassa’s rank, a gesture she’d learned as a girl and always assumed would be useless.

Out of the corner of her vision, she watches the queen’s cheeks go pink. For a moment, Elain thinks that this is strange, that the proper greeting would be so discomfiting, and then she wonders if all the time that Vassa has spent as a firebird has caused her to startle at human gestures. Then Vassa and Lucien walk nearer, and Elain knows the true reason.

She can smell Lucien on Vassa’s skin. And she can smell the scent of the queen, amber and lemon, and Lucien. She has been High Fae long enough to know how these scents are intermingled, how difficult it is to wash off the scent of another after a while, how Feyre and Nesta will always carry the scent of their mates.

She’s my mate, Lucien had said, and those three words had changed her life, circumscribed it. Her mind fills with images, not of him, but of Azriel, about to kiss her, of Rhys looming at the top of the stairs. Her love and longing now a matter of politics between courts.

Now her mate has fallen into bed with another woman.

Elain knows that silence is the proper way to bear this indignation. She can envision, already, the proper smile that should appear on her lips: sad and a little knowing, but mostly hopeful. She tries to find the expression, but when she looks at Lucien, she sees in the furrow between his eyebrow and the gleam in his eye, equal parts guilt and badly concealed happiness, that he knows exactly what she’s realized, and that perfect little smile of the good mate scorned dies on her lips. Inside her there is such a writhing confusion, a rage that she knows will explode from her the moment her lips part.

She turns away from the group and runs away as fast as her silk slippers will allow, not caring that she’s making a scene, that she looks like a scared little child. All she wants is the cool night air on her skin, the proximity of her flowers, the knowledge that nobody is looking at her. She pushes through door after door, stumbling over the tools the builders have left for tomorrow’s work and nearly tripping over loose tiles, but finally she is in the garden.

The moonlight silvers the leaves and the air is fragrant with lilacs. Instead of pushing her thoughts away, Elain feels the writhing inside her grow stronger, as if a monster has taken residence inside her body, turning all her thoughts into a whirl of angry colors, jagged reds and black shards shot through with bright exploding lights.

All those years she believed that beauty and sweetness and delicacy would save her, and maybe they would have if she’d stayed a human woman in the thick-walled manor which had so nearly been hers. Instead she has been discarded, over and over and over. She cannot stop imagining their eyes as they look at her, the pity and scorn and guilt and the joy of finding someone who is not Elain Archeron.

She cannot wield a sword or summon flame, so instead Elain’s hands are frantic, tugging first the petals of the lilac and then her own hair, hard enough to bring tears to her eyes, and then she’s sobbing so hard she’s nearly screaming, so that when there’s a hand on her back, she does scream, the sound shrill and rough in her throat, and when she turns toward the intruder, before she can determine who has touched her, she doesn’t mind the realization that she might die right here in the Spring Court gardens.

Instead she sees Lucien, and there is such regret on his face, etching lines around his eyes and mouth. Elain has been taught kindness until it’s second nature. Before he can say anything, apologize or explain, she reaches toward him.

Except that where her hands should be, there is only empty air.

[ducktracy]

169. egghead rides again (1937)

release date: july 17th, 1937

series: merrie melodies

director: tex avery

starring: mel blanc (egghead), tex avery (red), billy bletcher (clerk, egghead), sons of the pioneers (singers), danny webb (egghead)

tex avery would debut a whopping 3 characters in 1937: daffy, egghead, and elmer. but, with tex, he’s gotta keep it interesting, and the confusion between the last two characters is certainly interesting history. out of confusion or just simplicity (because “egghead” is much less of a mouthful than “prototype elmer fudd”), many fans refer to the proto-fudd as egghead, believing that he later evolved into elmer fudd. that, however, is not true. egghead and elmer are entirely independent characters. egghead has open eyes and USUALLY has hair (here is an exception), and is voiced by danny webb (again, an exception is made here... mostly.) elmer has closed eyes, wears a derby hat, and is voiced by mel blanc for the most part (danny webb voices him in cinderella meets fella, further confusing matters). to save space, i made it so that you can read more about the difference between the two here. interesting history indeed! for even more interesting history, this is irv spence’s first animation credit, and paul smith’s first cartoon in the avery unit, moving over from the freleng unit. spence would depart for MGM in 1938, whereas smith would stay with avery until 1940, where he would head off to walter lantz.

egghead is eager to become a “rootin’, tootin’, shootin’, snootin’, high falutin’, tootin’, shootin’, rootin’, tootin’ cowboy”, much to the bewilderment of his peers. to prove himself worthy, he goes on a dangerous, treacherous quest only the most worthy could conquer: wrangling an innocent little calf.

mel blanc’s over-enthusiastic cries of “YIPEE! WAHOO! GET ALONG, LITTLE DOGGIE, GET ALONG!” paired with irv spence’s loony animation collide to open the cartoon. our hero, the eponymous egghead, bucks back and forth on his trusty (off-screen) steed against a western panorama. that is, until a pan out reveals that our cantankerous cowhand is actually hopping wildly back and forth on a pogo stick, cleverly situated in front of his comically enlarged calendar. a great, classic fake-out, enhanced by mel’s energetic shrieks and spence’s spastic animation.

egghead resides in a boarding house, a space unfit for maintaining his wildest cowboy dreams. all of the commotion reaches the lobby of the boarding house, disturbing the landlord, voiced by billy bletcher. the landlord isn’t at all keen on egghead’s racket and literally throws him to the street--bletcher’s monologue is nothing short of hilarious as he rambles on all the way through, from initially hearing egghead’s noise to throwing him out. “well, dadburn that dadburn noise, dadburnit! i’ll put a stop to that, dadburnit. dadburnit, the dadburn boardin’ house ain’t no dadburn place to play dadburn cowboy! now get out and stay out, dadburnit! ...burnit... n... burnit—i mean, dadburnit!”

as egghead collects himself, his daze is cut short by the book so conveniently sprawled out in front of him, among other belongings. a book of job offerings has conveniently flipped open--fortune seems to smile upon our hero:

some more fun irv spence animation as egghead rips the paper out of the book, his bulbous nose prodding the page as he scans the words, too good to be true. “buck egghead rides again!” our protagonist declares, waving his hat around in celebration.  we receive a brief little montage of egghead traipsing towards the post office, writing the fated address out on the envelope. we don’t see the contents inside the envelope, only animation of egghead walking into the post office and writing on the envelope off-screen--a great way to build suspense. 

what seems to be an original number is yodeled by a group of cowboys in conjunction with a well-executed multi-plane pan (tex has used this technique before--i love to singa comes to mind) of bar-none ranch in wahoo, wyoming. the shot exposing the singing cowboys is structured quite similarly to the shots of the barbershop quartet singing in tex’s directorial debut, gold diggers of ‘49, albeit the animation is slightly more exaggerated, with the necks of the cowboys extending on their held out note. the cowboy strumming the guitar appears to be a caricature of paul smith (though i’d also take this with a grain of salt.) many portions of this cartoon have avery-isms of both past and future shorts--certainly fun to dissect!

great gag setup as the “leader” of the ranch gazes out of his window from inside, traipsing out the door, which is comically fitted to match his wide gait. he alerts his band of singing cowboys to the approach of the pony express--sure enough, the words PONY EXPRESS are emblazoned on some sort of object concealed by an iris. iris in to a horse pulling a trailer, the self-titled pony express, with a triumphant fanfare to boot.

nonstop gags are to be expected in a tex avery cartoon, but that doesn’t make the constant amount of punches any less amusing. the leader declares “c’mon, boys! in ya saddles! let’s ride out and meet the man!” with that, all of the cowboys whoop and holler as they all jump on their horses. they take off... and move about 2 inches forward until they all halt and reach their destination. it’s a gag tried and true used in many cartoons (my favorite usage being in, of course, the great piggy bank robbery), but the execution is just as satisfying here as it is in the others.

the horse comes to a halt, a chipper pony express “rider” emerging from the trailer to hand the boys their envelope before heading off again. as to be expected, it’s none other than egghead’s letter. EXCELLENT gag payoff as we finally see the contents of the envelope after minutes of gut-wrenching suspense: egghead himself flops out of the letter and onto the ground. the matter of factness and sincerity of the entire gag sell the whole thing.

once again, irv spence is at the hand of egghead’s introduction, which can hardly be summed up in greatness: mel blanc, billy bletcher, and danny webb all contribute to his vocals. mel blanc gives the tongue tied, squeaky, daffy-esque voice of “i’m a rootin’, tootin’, shootin’, snootin’, high falutin’, tootin’, shootin’, rootin’, tootin’ cowboy, fella! and i saw your ad, so i came for the job.” billy bletcher’s booming baritone takes over, the juxtaposition absolutely bludgeoning as he belts out “because, because, because, because...!” finally, danny webb takes over for the finale, imitating the squeaky voice of a teenage boy going through puberty--”today, i am a maaaaan”, lampooning the traditional declaration given by young men at their bah mitzvah, marking their introduction to adulthood. this line would be reused in another avery entry, i wanna be a sailor, just a few months later. the gag is topped off by egghead proudly puffing out his chest and struggling to keep his pants on. three great voice actors, great lines, and super fun animation, it’s hard to go wrong! the mel blanc/danny webb elmer/egghead conundrum ensues.

the lead cowboy decides to test egghead and see if he’s a worthy addition, enlisting in his buddy red for help. red (voiced by tex avery himself) squeals “OKAY, BOSS!” in a super high, grating, squeaky voice, a jab at famous western star andy devine, lampooned more than once for his raspy vocals--tedd pierce would also harp on devine with his portrayal of a squeaky voiced pig in friz freleng’s my little buckeroo just a year later.

per the leader’s request, red rolls a cigarette with just his mouth (with a lot of fun, eye-crossing animation provided by irv spence yet again), proudly sticking the cigarette out of his maw, lit and all, giving a self-satisfied grin towards the audience. the lead cowboy demonstrates his love of safety and concern for his friends’ well being as he whips out a pistol, giving it a good twirl before shooting right at the cigarette.

red is unscathed, his cigarette now split in half as a result. “now here, you try, pardner,” the cowboy urges on egghead. egghead gives a polite nod and tip of the hat before reaching for the gun, the weight of the gun bringing egghead falling to the ground beneath its weight. once more, red prepares to roll another cigarette, this time a corn cob pipe (and a button nose) poking out of his mouth in a last minute switcharoo.

morbidly (yet hilariously so), egghead struggles with the gun but manages to fire. predictably, he misses--shooting straight at red. wonderful setup as a floating hat and boots are all we see after the cloud of smoke dissipates. red assures he’s okay by waving a white flag from the recesses of his hat, his whole body dropping out of the hat and running away. his cowboy hat is still suspended in mid-air, and for the cherry on top, he darts on screen for a mere second more to retrieve his hat, a gag borrowed from picador porky. simultaneously predictable yet not, with some wonderfully fluid animation and great timing.

egghead is now the laughing stock of bar-none ranch. the leader, however, is a bit more forgiving, ordering his guffawing cronies to wrangle a calf and see what egghead can “do with it.” next act of redemption is a cruel one: the leader hands egghead a branding iron and instructs the novice to brand the poor little calf. despite the cruel nature of the gag, the audience is already alerted that egghead’s attempts to redeem himself will be laughable and in vain. 

the shot of egghead galloping along with the hot iron is strikingly similar in comparison to porky trotting along with a red-hot horse shoe in the village smithy, both shots awfully foreboding in the “this isn’t going to go well” sense. egghead’s victim, a terrified little calf, attempts to escape the clutches of the cowboys wrangling it, but it seems the calf has been defeated. egghead dives into the crowd, and a puff of smoke obscures the action going on...

once the smoke clears, we see that egghead has branded his fellow cowboys instead, the calf unharmed, trotting away with its tail proudly in the air (in a very similar manner to the bull(s) in picador porky.) the whole concept of attempting to cause harm to an innocent little calf (by someone with a rather squeaky voice) would also be rather prominently featured in the bob clampett classic porky’s last stand, with daffy off on an unsuccessful mission to kill a calf as a last-minute resort for a hamburger.

now, the leader orders egghead to go after the calf. if he gets it, he gets the job. thus launches another tex avery staple gag--egghead hops into a crowd of horses, emerging out of the gaggle on a diminutive little pony instead (with a score of “the merry go round broke down” to boot--carl stalling must have been quite eager to use the composition now that he could.) the same gag would be used in a number of other cartoons, the 1946 tex avery droopy cartoon northwest hounded police coming to mind.

we’re treated with some refreshingly dimensional, rather tashlin-esque dynamics and angles as the calf leaps and bounds over a number of fences, with egghead hot on its trail, screeching another victorious call of “egghead rides again... and again... and again! and another time!” the animation is very well executed and tastefully dynamic. 

momentum of the chase is purposefully broken as both the calf and egghead begrudgingly screech to a halt, obeying the rules of the road as they wait at a stop sign before resuming the chase again. another avery-ism--purposefully stopping in the middle of a chase for a “breather” gag. 

in an attempt to fake-out the clueless cowboy, the calf enlists in the aid of cartoon physics to save its hide (literally) as it crawls beneath a cliff and stands upside down, right on the edge. egghead saunters on past, much to the glee of the little calf. yet, egghead realizes he’s been foiled, and we get some more wonderfully dynamic and cartoony animation as the horse whips around, sending egghead slingshotting around from the background to the foreground, positioned on the horse the entire time. treg brown’s electric guitar twang/slide effect (my favorite!) enhances the gag nicely. 

realizing its pursuers are still coming in hot, the calf slides to the edge of another cliff (this time accompanied by a less suitable violin slide sound effect) before scampering down the edge in a last minute effort to escape. egghead and his trusty steed screech to a halt, peering down over the edge of the cliff. the gags just keep on coming--in more tex avery greatness, the horse takes a rather conveniently situated set of stairs carved into the side of the cliff, its complacent grin and dainty little descent topping off the gag. 

a carl stalling favorite, “in the stirrups”, accompanies the wild goose chase between the calf and egghead as the two run over hill and dale through the beautifully painted landscape. yet another avery-ism—a wide, distance shot of mayhem unfolding on screen. against all odds, egghead manages to herd the terrified, exhausted calf back in its own. it seems egghead actually DOES ride again! he approaches the cornered calf (the same high pitched daffy croon a stark parallel to porky’s last stand), and, once more, a ball of smoke obscures the action unfolding.

instead of a terrified calf wrangled up in a ball, we’re greeted with a cow-tied egghead, with the calf shaking its little fists in the glory. once more, this causes the cowboy cronies to erupt in a uproarious fit of laughter.

with great effort, a heartbroken, dejected egghead manages to produce exactly one (1) tear, reflecting his tremendous heartache. once more, irv spence is responsible for the close-up, a very funny one indeed. those wrinkles are almost scribner-ian.

a dejected egghead trudges past the cowboys, their mocking laughter definitely stinging, even if it’s directed towards someone who is hardly endearing such as egghead himself. thankfully, the all too forgiving leader consoles egghead (offhandedly mocking his diminutive stature in the process), saying that he’s finally in.

to egghead, it’s too good to be true—and a happy ending in an avery cartoon is definitely too good to be true indeed. wonderful animation as the leader swaps egghead’s cowboy hat out for a pith helmet, thrusting a trashcan in his grip. egghead now gets the honors of being the street sweeper (to put it politely), an ending reminiscent of the classic drip-along daffy. the egghead/daffy parallels keep on coming!

tex closes with a final bang: as egghead cries “buck egghead...!”, the whinnying of a horse grounds the chipper street sweeper into reality, reminded of his duties. his exuberance melts into disdain, the triumphant backing score backing down in favor of a mournful violin as our hero grumbles “...sweeps again.” iris out.

this review is full of praises for the gags and the animation in the cartoon, which are both very good. however, with that said, is this the best tex avery entry? not at all. is this a bad entry? not at all. for someone like me who’s endured the bosko, buddy, and even beans eras, this cartoon is like heaven sent—for the average viewer who is more acquainted with tex’s future masterpieces at WB and later MGM, this is definitely a step down from his greatest.

irv spence’s animation shines bright in this cartoon and is certainly the highlight, which is both good and bad. it highlights his work and allows him to make a name for himself, but he also puts the other animators at the avery unit to shame. bob clampett and chuck jones’ absence is certainly felt—virgil ross is another star of the avery unit (though i don’t have the best luck picking him out, at least not in this cartoon), sid sutherland can be difficult to discern, and paul smith’s animation is seldom exciting, and at some points the animation looks rather poor when it isn’t a spence scene. nevertheless, his work is definitely something to look out for.

the gags are amusing, some more predictable than others, but definitely amusing. egghead isn’t a very endearing character—they did a great job of making him obnoxious—but mel’s vocals (and technically billy bletcher’s and danny webb’s) breathe lots of life and vivacity into the character. really, his voice is just daffy duck’s voice of the 30s (though a bit less spitty.) that whole “i am a man” sequence is nothing short of hilarious.

in short, not one of tex’s best, and one that you could both skip or watch. i lean more towards the “give it a watch” side, for the historical significance of egghead’s debut, but also for shining moments such as irv spence’s wild character animation and some of the gags. this cartoon doesn’t have the same energy that previous entries such as porky’s duck hunt (and even uncle tom’s bungalow, all things considered) uphold, but if you’re tex avery, that is one difficult flame to maintain, one that would sometimes burn out. this era of avery cartoons, the flame has certainly calmed down, but it’ll reignite for the 1938-1939 season at least. so, in all, amusing short with bits of greatness to it (and historical significance) that leads me to give it a recommendation.

link!

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Call It What You Want To (part 1)

Warnings: BL/ Personification/ Imagination/ EXTREMELY OUT OF CHARACTER

Tags: LimoSiruMin Neighbor AU, toddler Ichihachi, Baby Jiraichan and Baby Quartet

Summary: Siruko has two new neighbors, and he does the only thing he can’t do. He falls in love with them.

A/N: For the sake of the story, it’s a world where boys’ love is accepted, but polyamory isn’t quite the norm. Of course anything in the story wouldn’t reflect reality in any way, are you kidding me. Please don’t take it too seriously, it’s just my imagination. I just wanted to stress-write. Don’t read if it will only make you cringe. Thank you. You have been warned. 🍋🐶🤖

Chapter 1

Siruko held the tiny hands with his fingers, and his heart just swells up everytime he looks at them. He was finally able to put down Quartetchi and Jiraichan to sleep, and Siruko’s not being biased here, but they’re the cutest babies in the world. At thirteen months old, both babies show signs of intelligence and good motor skills, but Siruko doesn’t care about that. All he wants is for them to grow up healthy and happy.

Something tugs his shirt, and Siruko looks down to see the other reason for his living. Three-year-old Ichihachi timidly hands him the book they’ve been reading the night before. Sometimes he can’t believe how fast Ichihachi is growing and wants time to stop just for a little while, just so his little boy can still stay little for a short while.

The years haven’t been easy for Siruko. Three years ago, his ex-girlfriend left Ichihachi to him and ran away with the guy she’s been cheating on him with, which happens to be Ichihachi’s father. Siruko doesn’t really care; frankly, the girl only used him for his money, and he can’t say he loved her that much. It was really hard taking care of a baby all by himself, but Ichihachi was the best thing that ever happened to him. He had always wanted kids, and though it was a little bit early, it was fine. As far as the world knows, Ichihachi is his child, and he loves him so much he’ll give him the world and more.

Then, two years later, he found two babies in an abandoned basket behind the garbage dump. He would have missed it; the babies weren’t crying or anything. It was Ichihachi who led him to them, when Siruko for a moment took his eyes off of him to tie his own shoe lace. Ichihachi liked cats, and he followed one on his own, to the best his small toddler legs can take him. Siruko almost had a panic attack when he looked up and didn’t see him, until he saw the brown scarf he wrapped him with trailing on the ground. He snagged the small boy immediately and hugged him; his heart rapidly beating within his ribcage, afraid to lose his son. Ichihachi, of course, oblivious to Siruko’s worry, just patted his cheek to get his attention and mumbled, “Touchan, touchan.” He followed the direction where Ichihachi’s small finger was pointing, to find two small babies wrapped in gray and pink blankets. His chest hurt seeing them abandoned like this, how could anyone just abandon their children? Siruko sighed to himself; if he didn’t get any answer to that from Ichihachi’s mother, then he sure won’t get it here in the garbage dump. After checking that the babies were not hurt or anything, he called the authorities. The babies cooed at him adorably and even grinned gummily at him. Siruko knew there and then that he had to adopt them, no matter what it takes. His heart was already captivated, and with a few favors and pulling strings and money throwing here and there, in six months he was able to take them home. He learned that the two babies were not related, and Siruko promised to give them a home and a family.

Sure it was tough, but it was also rewarding. Siruko was really happy. It would be nice to have a companion, a partner, but that seems impossible now that he doesn’t have time for dating, and no one really wants a man with three kids as a baggage. He’s content with his children though, and sometimes his friends, brother and parents come to help him. He’s really at a good place in his life, in a nice apartment building in a small, old city.

Apparently, said apartment building has new occupancy. Both his neighbors to the left and right of his unit were leaving, and Siruko was a bit sad because they were really nice people. He just hoped the new neighbors would be understanding of the noises his children make, not that they make a ruckus though. Ichihachi is an angel, and both Quartet and Jiraichan rarely cry, except when other people hold them. His children are the best, no bias there. Plus, the units have pretty thick walls anyway.

One evening, when the babies have finally settled down and he has read Ichihachi’s bedtime story, after spending a little time watching his kids sleep (so cute), Siruko stretched and yawned. He still has some work to do, so, after taking the baby monitor and turning on Ichihachi’s cat night lamp, he went to his work space so he can open his laptop and check his notifications.

Or he would, had there not been a knock on the door. Siruko glanced at the clock and wondered who in the world would knock on his door at midnight.

Groaning internally and checking quickly to look if he’s wearing something decent (a red shirt and really short black shorts, oops), he trudged his way to the door, hoping his irritation didn’t show in his face.

Opening the door revealed a tall man with glasses, short green hair and emerald eyes. Really striking emerald eyes. Oh. Wow.

Said man smiled a little and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “Hi. Sorry we had to meet this way, I’m Mintosu.” He bowed slightly and Siruko came back to senses and remembered, right, manners, and mirrored the bow a bit lower.

“I’m your new neighbor, just came in two days ago. Hadn’t had the chance to greet anyone yet because I was busy unpacking. Sorry about that.”

“Sure, don’t worry about it.” Siruko replied, clearing his throat afterwards. He sounded so hoarse and tired, yikes. Wait, since when did he care about his voice? “I’m Siruko. I have three kids, so I’m apologizing in advance for any racket.”

“Oh! Of course, it’s no big deal. Kids are cute.” Mintosu grinned again, and Siruko blinked. That’s… really distracting.

“Anyway, I was wondering if you’ve got any coffee left? I really need to finish some work and it’s my unlucky day coz I ran out and it’s midnight, I forgot to check out where the supermarkets are in the area and I wasn’t sure where the convenience stores are too.” The man spoke really fast and slurred his words together, so it took a second for Siruko to process what his new neighbor was saying, but really, his voice sounds really nice. Siruko won’t mind listening to it again and again.

“Ah! Coffee! Right!” Siruko startled out of his thoughts and went to the kitchen, fetching the extra bag he had. He handed it to his new neighbor, fingers brushing accidentally. 

Mintosu’s beam grew wider. “Thanks! Appreciate it! I owe u one!”

“No problem!”

“It was really nice to meet you.” The man said earnestly before he left. “Hope I can see you and the kids around soon.”

“It’s nice to meet you too.” Siruko smiled pleasantly. He watched Mintosu go back to his own apartment to the right, bowing slightly as they caught gazes again. His new neighbor seems really nice, he thought, as he closed the door and went back to work.

Two weeks later, Siruko bumped into his second new neighbor in the elevator. His brother Hakotaro was watching the kids as he ran a few errands and picked up the groceries. He couldn’t really see anything from the huge paper bag he was hugging and the several plastic bags hanging from his arms, so it was more of a feeling that he hit someone.

“I’m sorry!”

“Need any help there?” A deep, frankly quite sexy voice asked. Siruko wasn’t even able to respond when the paper bag he was clutching tightly was gently pulled by someone, and the weight disappeared. As his view cleared, a man with gorgeous light blue locks appeared in front of him. He was wearing piercings, but he was also wearing a suit. What.. what is it with meganes lately? Why does Siruko find them attractive so suddenly? Where are they all coming from?

“T-thank you.” Siruko bowed as deeply as he could.

“Don’t mention it. I’m Limone, by the way. My friends call me ‘Sensei’. You can call me that too.” The man chuckled. His eyes were a beautiful shade of cerulean and it was really captivating.

“I’m Siruko. I haven’t seen you here before, are you visiting someone?”

“Oh, actually I’m new here! I just arrived yesterday, and today my moving-in gifts just arrived so I’ll drop them by your place tomorrow. Sorry I can’t personally give them, I have a meeting tomorrow.”

“That’s fine. Welcome to the building.”

The elevator dinged open, and they both tried to step out, surprising each other, their arms brushing. Limone-sensei stepped back to let Siruko through first, and Siruko thought, wow he’s a gentleman too.

“Umm… by the way, are you the Siruko? The youtuber?”

“Ahh…” Siruko sighed deeply, forcing a smile. “Yep, that’s me.”

Limone-sensei turned serious. “Hey, I won’t tell anyone, I promise, don’t worry.” He seemed sincere enough, so Siruko smiles genuinely this time. “I watched some of your videos and I thought I recognized your voice. But say… what are you doing in a simple apartment building like this?”

“Ah, well… Used to share it with ex-gf until she ran away with someone else, the usual story.” Shiruko shrugged.

Sensei shook his head lightly. “Tsk. That’s the worst. She doesn’t deserve you anyway.” Siruko had to chuckle at that. They arrived at his apartment, and he fished for his keys.

“Oh, Um… looks like we’re neighbors. I live to your left.”

“Really? That’s a nice coincidence. By the way, I’m apologizing in advance for the noise. I have three kids, 2 babies and a toddler.”

“Oh yeah?” Sensei looked excited. “I like babies. They’re so cute.”

Siruko was finally able to unlock the door, so Sensei gave him back the paper bag. “It was nice to meet you, Siruko-san!”

“Likewise! Thanks for carrying my groceries, Sensei!” The man waved as he strolled back to his own apartment. Okay, Siruko now has two hot, really nice neighbors. What in the world is happening?

“I saw your landlord Oshin-san a while ago. He said you have new neighbors?” His friend Gzira asked while helping Ichihachi change into his outdoor clothes. For some reason, the toddler really likes wearing scarves, so Gzira wrapped the young boy in a yellow one today.

“Un! I talked to them, they’re really nice!” Siruko commented while double-checking the diaper bag. The two babies were in the stroller, babbling at each other in baby language.

Gzira had to do a double-take. “Wait, you talked to people not me and your brother?”

Siruko frowned. “Hey, I’m perfectly capable of talking to other people!”

“Yeah, your subscribers, two babies who can’t even form words, and a toddler who knows maybe about 20 words do count as an engaging conversation.”

“Why am I friends with you?” The purple head sulked.

Gzira laughed that really contagious laugh of him. “Didn’t we establish that it’s because you don’t really talk to other people?”

Siruko stuck out his tongue at his friend, not that it really helped him prove his point. Ichihachi giggled adorably at his otouchan. “To my left is Limone-sensei. He helped me with groceries and he has piercings but he wears suits. He’s really nice. To my right, his name is Mintosu but he said I can call him Minben-san, and he gave me back really delicious coffee when he ran out and I gave him my extra. They’re both meganes and really handsome.”

Gzira blinked and stared at him strangely. “What?” Siruko paused his rambling.

“Handsome?” Gzira asked, laughter in his voice. He even waggled his eyebrows to tease.

“Oh, shut up.” Siruko glared at his friend. “Yeah yeah, my two new nice neighbors are hot, but they wouldn’t want to do anything with me, the lonely guy with 3 kids to raise.”

Gzira sighed. “Siruko-san, don’t talk about yourself like that. Any guy or girl would be lucky to have you! You’re smart, attractive, and really kind.”

Siruko smiled sadly. “Thanks, Gzira-kun.” He made one last final check. “Okay, who’s ready to go to the park?”

“Look, Quartetchi, the airplane is coming!” Siruko made engine noises and tried to feed the baby the mashed sweet potato, but the gray baby stubbornly turned his head away. “C'mon, Quartetchi! Jiraichan ate it just fine! Look, it’s delicious!” Siruko made the show of eating it, gagging slightly at the texture. Quartetchi pounded the table with his chubby fist and cackled at that.

Siruko mock-glared. “Sometimes I think you’re just messing with me on purpose, my cute yankee baby.” Quartetchi just blew him raspberries and laughed at his own spit flying. Jiraichan gurgled.

He heard a knock on the door and sighed. The babies look at him curiously. “This battle isn’t over.”

He opened the door to see a smiling Mintosu. “Oh, hi Minben-san!” Siruko greeted.

“Hey,” the green-haired man greeted back. “Some of your mail was dropped in my mailbox, so I thought I’d give it back. Here you go.”

“Thanks.” Their fingers brushed again, and Siruko felt the electricity. Just then, peals of laughter came from the kitchen, and Siruko smiled fondly despite himself.

“Were those the babies?” Mintosu asked curiously, reflecting Siruko’s smile. “Ah, your wife must be there too.”

“Oh nonono, I don’t have a wife. Just the single dad, I guess.” He shrugged.

“Hmm..” Mintosu nodded, considering. He seemed to perk up at Siruko’s words, though the purplehead doesn’t have any idea why.

Just then, they heard the sound of a door opening and they both looked. “Oh hey, Siruko-san!” Sensei greeted cheerfully, then frowned upon seeing the guy in front of purplehead. “Mintosu-san.”

Mintosu seemed to deflate a little too, glaring slightly. “Sensei.”

Siruko blinked at the sudden hostility and cold atmosphere between the two guys.“What’s up, Sensei?”

“I’m fine, thanks for asking. And you? The kids?”

“My eldest currently hates me because I tried to bathe him, and I’m negotiating with the babies over mashed vegetables, but everything’s fine! Thanks!”

Both meganes chuckled at him, and Siruko blinked. He wasn’t that funny.

“Listen, I gotta go to work, but it was lovely seeing you, Siruko-san.” Sensei smiled at him, then grunted to the other. “See ya pal.”

“Yeah.”

When Sensei left, Siruko asked tentatively. “So… you and Sensei are not… fond of each other?”

Mintosu sighed. “We’ve been really good friends for a long time actually. We just have an… ongoing disagreement.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah…” The green guy pursed his lips in thought. “Both of us… want the same thing. Classic jealousy trope, you can say. It’s hard to explain.”

“Ah,” Siruko nodded, understanding. “I hope you two figure it out!”

Mintosu eyed him thoughtfully. “Me too.”

The next day, there was another knock on his door. Siruko has never gotten this many knocks on his door before.

“Hey, sorry to disturb you. I just… I think I baked too many cookies so I thought I’d share some.” Sensei smiled sheepishly, holding out a bag of cookies which looked really delicious.

Before Siruko could answer, Ichihachi appeared out of nowhere and clutched his legs. The boy must have heard cookies and came as quickly as he could.

“Is this Ichihachi-kun?” Sensei crouched so he could talk to the toddler. “Hey buddy, my name is Limone-sensei, nice to meet you! You want some cookies?” The blue guy handed him the bag gently. Ichihachi looked up to Siruko first for approval, then shyly took the bag. “Fank you tente~”, he tiptoed to peck the cheek of the teacher. Sensei broke out a large smile at that and patted the boy’s head. “Sure buddy!”

When Ichihachi ran back to the living room, Sensei stood up. “He’s so cute, Siruko-san. He must have you wrapped around his finger.”

“Yeah, you have no idea.” Suddenly, a cry rang out within the room, and Siruko panicked. “Matte yo, Sensei!” And he dashed to the nursery.

Jiraichan was crying because he just woke up, and Siruko sighed in relief. Lately, the baby was fussy because he was teething. He quickly tried to snatch Jiraichan up so that Quartetchi won’t wake up, but it was too late. Quartetchi started crying when he saw his brother crying.

“Right, good morning everyone. Hai hai, I’ll go get some milk.”

“Sorry, Ichihachi dragged me in. Are those babies?” Sensei said, making Siruko jump a little. He had honestly forgotten he was talking to Sensei earlier. “Ah, do you need some help? I can carry one of them, I know how to hold and everything.”

“Aaah, jyaa, can you hold Jiraichan for a second? I’ll just go get the bottles.” Siruko handed him the pink baby, who stopped crying when he saw Sensei. Siruko was actually nervous inside, anticipating the reaction of the baby while he got Quartetchi out of the crib and calmed him down.

Sensei bounced the baby twice in his arms, cooing a little. Jiraichan suddenly broke into a toothless smile and babbled happily. “Dada!”

Both Siruko and Sensei lifted their eyebrows in surprise and their eyes widened. “W-was that his first word?” Sensei whispered in awe.

“Y-yeah. I usually call myself ‘Otouchan’ so I don’t know where he got that. Actually, I’m a bit jealous.”

“Wow.” Sensei mouthed. The baby poked Sensei’s cheek to get his attention, and Siruko could see Sensei swooning for the baby. Actually, he also might be swooning for Sensei right now. Oh no.

“This is awesome! Thanks for letting me hold him, Siruko-san. And yes, it’s nice to meet you too Jiraichan.” Sensei kissed the baby’s forehead, and yep, that does butterflies to Siruko’s stomach.

This isn’t good.

A week later, at around 8:30 in the evening, there was another knock to his door. Seriously, was the doorbell not working?

“Hey, I’m really sorry about this. I got locked out of my apartment, and I really need a place to crash. I’ll get my keys tomorrow morning, don’t worry.” Mintosu greeted with his usual ramble and Siruko just chuckled.

“Of course, you’re welcome here!” He opened the door and led him to the sofa. “Sorry if the babies cry or anything.”

“I don’t really mind, I’m just glad I don’t have to sleep on my doorstep tonight.”

Just then, Ichihachi, who just finished dinner, came to the living room. “Can I watch Pokemon now Touchan?”

“Oh sure, kitten, come here.”

“Hey lil guy! I’m Minben-san, nice to meet you! You like Pokemon?” Ichihachi nodded, and Mintosu fished something out of his bag.

“Tada! Do you wanna play together?” He held up his Switch, and Siruko snickered. He totally expected that the guy was a gamer. He had that aura.

Ichihachi glanced at Siruko again, and when Siruko nodded, he shyly trodded over Mintosu, climbing up his lap. Minben-san maneuvered him perfectly, then loaded the game. Ichihachi’s eyes widened like two plates and looked so excited.

“Oh no, he might erase your progress Minben-san.”

“No worries, it’s okay.” He chuckled. Siruko decides it’s not weird to like that. “Jyaa, is it ok to get some work done? I’ll leave the two of you there.”

“Sure.” Minben-san said. Ichihachi didn’t even look at him, too engrossed at the game already. The picture they made, his toddler, eyes fixated on the screen, sitting on the lap of his neighbor who was trying to entertain him with funny voices and teaching him how to control the character even though Ichihachi doesn’t understand a thing, is really cute and makes Siruko’s heart swell.

Wow, Siruko was able to actually get a lot of work done, and when he checks the clock, it’s already bedtime for Ichihachi. He arrives at the living room and stands there quietly for a while, observing them. Ichihachi was trying so hard to stay awake, but he was yawning and nodding off. The way he rubs his eyes was so cute, no bias. Minben-san was talking a lot as usual, but his tone was softer and gentler. Siruko really wants to capture a picture of this.

“Okay, time to sleep, kitten. Say good night to Minben-san and we’ll brush your teeth and drink milk.”

“G’nite Minben-san.” Ichihachi said, then pecked the guy’s cheek. Mintosu.exe stopped working and Siruko totally laughed out loud. He could see the exact moment Mintosu’s brain short-circuited.

Mintosu recovered though, and he kissed the boy’s hair as he let him down the sofa. “Good night, baby boy. Sweet dreams.”

“Sorry, I’ll just help him get ready, then I’ll go get your blankets and stuff. If you’re thirsty or anything, just raid the kitchen, I don’t mind.”

“Thanks, I’m fine.”

When he got Ichihachi all settled down and read him the bed night story, Siruko sighed in contentment. The young toddler usually doesn’t like people, and is very shy and withdrawn around them. Seeing him being very affectionate and attached to Sensei and Minben-san makes Siruko’s heart fill with warmth. Anymore of this cuteness and he might need to have his heart checked.

The baby monitor picked up some sounds of hiccuping and whimpering. Siruko hurried towards the nursery and turned on the lights to see Jiraichan having a bunch of Quartetchi’s hair in his fists. How Quartetchi didn’t wail out loud in pain and just whimpered, Siruko-san will never know. Poor baby, his mewls were heart-breaking.

“Hey hey, Jiraichan let go of your brother!!” Siruko scolded, prying the pink baby’s hands open. “You naughty kid, tsk tsk.” He immediately lifted the gray baby up and rubbed his back, trying to stop the poor baby’s sniffles. “Mou Jiraichan, we don’t hit anyone here!” The pink baby just pouted at him.

Siruko suddenly realized that Minben-san was waiting in the living room, and face-palmed himself internally. “Okay guys, since you’re awake, let’s go meet Minben-san. Be nice, okay? And no hair-pulling, Jiraichan.” He warned.

Minben-san was standing in the living room looking at the family pictures, and he almost dropped one when he heard Siruko-san, thank goodness he has quick reflexes and caught it before it shattered to a million pieces. He muttered a quick “gomen” before his eyes widened in delight. “Are these the babies?”

“Yeah. Do you mind holding Quartetchi? He’s crying because the little fairy psychopath pulled his hair.”

“Aww champ, it’s okay. Yosh yosh.” Minben-san took Quartet from his arm, and the gray baby stopped crying immediately and blinked at the new guy. They stared at each other, one with blank surprise, and the other one making silly faces. Siruko tensed, waiting for Quartetchi to cry.

“Papa!” Both men startled and stared at the gray baby in shock.

“T-that’s Quartetchi first word… and Jiraichan said his last week, he called Sensei ‘Dada’. Mouuu, why do my own kids not call their own father ‘Touchan’??” Siruko pouted jealously.

Minben-san blinked his shock out and chuckled, not breaking eye contact with the baby. He swayed him lightly, sitting down on the sofa. “Nice to meet you too, Quartet-san. I’m honored.” He held the baby’s little hand with his finger and shook it.

A few minutes later, as Siruko fed Jiraichan with a bottle on the sofa while Mintosu was playing upsy daisy with a squealing Quartetchi, Siruko couldn’t help himself and asked. “So um… are you and Sensei…?

“Yeah… still in a fight.”

“Oof. Still? That’s why you came here and not there, huh.”

“Yeah. It’s… It’s probably our biggest fight ever, but both of us won’t back down, and the thing we want… it means the world to us both. It’s complicated.”

Siruko’s brows furrowed in contemplation. “What in the world could be so important to fight your friend with for months??”

Mintosu shrugged, and Siruko knew to drop the conversation. Both babies yawned loudly at the same time, melting both Siruko and Mintosu’s heart.

“Do you mind helping me put them back in the crib?”

“Let’s go.”

Later, when Minben-san put them down and kissed both their foreheads and wished them goodnight, does Siruko realize he’s screwed. His heart clenched painfully in his chest, suddenly longing.

Oh no, he’s in trouble.

“I have a question.”

Hakotaro was helping Ichihachi color his book on the floor, while Gzira was letting Jiraichan climb all over him on the sofa. Siruko was on the other couch, handing Quartet the big soft blocks for his tower. It was more of a tetris game at this point than making a tower, but Siruko encouraged the baby and clapped the whole time.

“Is it possible to fall in love with two guys at the same time?”

Hakotaro coughed out loud several times, earning a worried look from his nephew. Gzira opened his mouth in a perfect O.

“Are… are these the two megane hot neighbors?”

“Who?!” Hakotaro asked in his disbelief.

Siruko answered in a tiny voice. “ I… may have accidentally fallen in love with both my neighbors at the same time.”

“What?!”

“It… just happened?” Siruko offered.

“Why?!”

“Are you just gonna ask one-word questions, Hakotaro?”

“Ok ok, let me handle this Hakotaro-san.” Gzira placated. “Umm… I think it’s possible. Polyamory is not unheard of. You should talk it with them, if they agree.”

“What? No!” Siruko drew his eyebrow together. “I’m not gonna confess or anything like that. Are you insane?”

“You’re the one who said you loved them, Niisan!”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna do anything about it! Look at me, who’s going to date a sad loser like me with more issues than kids?”

Hakotaro and Gzira looked at each other in silent understanding. His friend sighed sadly. “Siruko-san, stop that. I told you before, anyone would be lucky to have you!”

“Yes, do tell your insecurities to shut up, Niisan. I don’t really like talking about your dating life, but all I know is that it’s not that hard to love you. You take care of the people important to you really well, and you’re wrong, because many people love you because of who you are.”

Siruko was really touched, but as usual, he covers up his self-depreciation with humor. “Awww Hakotaro, do you wanna marry me instead?”

“Ew. I do love you Niisan, but getting married to you would be the definition of hell.”

“Awww I love you too.”

Hakotaro face-palmed. “Of all the times to focus on the positive, of course you only heard the word ‘love’.”

Gzira-kun laughed and it was really contagious.

After that, Siruko-san tried to avoid his neighbors. He still greeted them, but if he suddenly had something to do or forgot something at home, his neighbors would never know. He avoided too much interaction, just casually talked and smiled. He even used the kids as an excuse sometimes. If Sensei and Minben-san looked confused and hurt, he pretended not to see. All to protect his heart from falling further.

After all, it was for the best.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Click this for Part 2~ Drop by my Twitter too! Have a nice day!!🌻

[afteriwake]

Magical Lineages (An “Unexpected Legacies” Story)

And here is the new fic I wrote for @holidaysat221b‘s Sherlolly Halloween 2020 / Spook Me Ficathon 2020! Just a cute little bit of fluff and a tease for future fics. Enjoy!

Magical Lineages - Molly, Sherlock, Phryne and Merlin enjoy a morning of magic and cozy family feels, and unbeknownst to them they're being watched by two people wanting to keep their magical lineages safe.

READ @ AO3 | SERIES PAGE

“MOLLY! SHERLOCK!” Both of them bolted upright in bed at the sound of Phryne’s voice wafting into their bedroom. After a moment Molly began to relax because Phryne didn’t sound scared, but she could see Sherlock’s guard was up. A moment later the young girl burst into their bedroom, roses all over her arms. “Look what I did!”

“Impressive,” Sherlock said before stifling a yawn. “Did you cause them to come up on their own, or was that prompted by the roses I got Molly yesterday?”

“On my own,” she said, sticking her tongue out at her guardian and getting a smile in response. “They don’t itch or anything, even with the thorns, but look!” The various blooms grew larger and then smaller and wrinkled.

“That really is impressive,” Molly said, getting up to look at the now clean arms of her ward. She ran a finger over Phryne’s wrist and then brought it up to her nose, sniffing it. “Smells like roses, too. But what were you told about practicing magic without a guide?”

“I know, I know, but I woke up with the buds and I just wanted to see what I could do.” She sat at the end of their bed as Molly went back to her place next to Sherlock. “Besides, who knew when you two would wake up? You had one of the weird cases last night, right?”

“No, it was one of the regular ones,” Sherlock said. “Both Molly and John went with me because I wasn’t sure if it wouldn’t turn out to be a weird one.”

“Oh,” Phryne said, her enthusiasm dropping. She’d been with the two of them for a little over a month now, and she seemed to like hearing about Sherlock’s weird cases. The normal ones bored her, something Molly found amusing.

“Well, since we’re all up, how about I make breakfast?” Molly asked, looking at Phryne, and then at Sherlock. “Coffee first, at least for Sherlock, and maybe raspberry jam scones?”

“That sounds yummy,” Phryne said. “Can I help?”

“Of course you can,” Molly said as she got out of bed again, and Phryne stood to join her as soon as she got to the end of the bed. Sherlock settled back in for a moment, but Molly was content to bring him breakfast in bed if he wanted it. Normally he was awake and out of bed before she got the chance. She went over and looked at the roses he had gotten her the night before. No real reason for it, but they had gone by a florist that was closing up for the night and he’d asked if there were any bouquets still good and the roses had come home with them. It had been a nice gesture and one she appreciated more than she could express. She felt a little nauseated and stopped for a moment, one hand over her mouth and one over her belly as the roses changed from deep red to peach. “Phryne, did you change the colour of the roses?”

“Nope,” Phryne said, her eyes wide when she saw. “Maybe the baby did.”

“Can the baby do magic already?” Molly asked, her eyes wide as the wave of nausea dissipated.

“Ask questions like that out loud and the old fart will show up,” Phryne said.

“And who’s to say I won’t show up for the scones?” Merlin said from the kitchen table, startling Molly slightly.

“You forgot the bell sound,” Phryne said, sticking her tongue out at Merlin.

He chuckled and reached over to ruffle her hair, a movement she just barely escaped, but she was grinning at him. “So I did, so I did,” he said. “But as to the question, Molly, I’m not used to still in placenta babies doing magic. Not that it can’t happen, but…”

“Oh bother,” she said quietly. “Does this mean she...or he...has a mind of their own when it comes to what magic I do?”

“Means they might have their own mind of magic,” he said. “Sort of like in that American show Charmed, when one of the sisters got preggers. The baby did their own thing long before he was born, I think. Not one of my favorite shows, but it seems an apt example now.”

“Well, what happens when I help Sherlock with things?” she asked. There was a slight bump where it was more noticeable that she was pregnant now, but she was worried one day the baby might do something she was unprepared for I front of someone who she didn’t want to know she could do magic or much less was carrying a magical child.

As though her thoughts were being read, the flowers went from peach back to a deep red and even looked a bit newer. “I think the baby will do what's in its best interest to help,” Merlin said, wearing a small grin on his face. “But if you’re really worried, I’ll do some more research into things, see if other of Morgan’s descendants were ever pregnant.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Do you want to stay for some of the scones?”

“Only if you want me to,” he said. “I don’t want to intrude on family time. I don’t even know how to bake all that well.”

“Molly’s a good teacher,” Phryne said. “She could give you lessons like she’s giving me.”

“I could,” she replied. “But you don’t have to stick around for today.”

“No, I think scones would be a good first lesson.” Merlin took off his coat and began rolling up the sleeves of his long-sleeved shirt. “So! What’s the first step?”

“Well, we wash our hands first,” Molly said, and then she was off and in teaching mode. By the time they were done the kitchen was only a little messy but the scones, even Merlin’s, had turned out just fine. By that point, Sherlock had joined them and the four of them were at the table, eating scones with either coffee or milk.

“I have to say, it’s nice to do something with the family,” Merlin said as he finished his second one. “Something not related to training or an emergency.”

“Come have more lessons with Molly!” Phryne said with a mouthful of scone. She got a disapproving look from Molly, then took a drink of her milk and swallowed. “It was fun.”

“Can I join in on these lessons?” Sherlock asked.

“Of course, if you really want to,” Molly said. “And Merlin, you are more than welcome to come and join us for things like...well, non-emergency things. You are family by now, after all.”

Merlin gave the three of them a warm smile before popping the last of his scone into his mouth and brushing his hands together. “It seems as though, maybe, I finally got what I wanted all along. Maybe that curse really is broken.”

“Maybe it is,” Sherlock said with a nod.

---

Unbeknownst to the happy family, they were being observed. Not by a malevolent being; no, but being observed nonetheless. The man stood there with a wistful but warm smile on his face as he observed the four of them finish their food and move into the sitting room to watch something on the telly.

“Is it almost time to reveal myself to them again?” he asked the figure in the mirror to his left. Oh, she could be there in person if she chose, but right now she was busy. Doing what, he did not know.

“Almost, Sherrinford,” the woman said. “But first, we need to put some safeguards in place.” She smiled at him. “Soon, though. Because while there is joviality now, it may not last long if the Dark One makes her next move before the baby is born.”

“Of course,” Sherrinford said. “You would want your line to continue, Morgan.”

“It’s your line too,” she said. Then she paused. “Though the little one has a mind of his or her own, we’ll see if we can drop off a gift to help Molly. She doesn’t need any surprises while she stands at her lover’s side.”

The mirror image faded and Sherrinford went back to watching the quartet at Baker Street. Yes, it would do no one any good if the baby got its own ideas in the middle of a magical fight, and all the scrying he and his mistress had done said that, in the near future, one was on the horizon.

[theasstour]

0101. Presto.

Monday, 22 September 2014

Word count: 11.5k

NB: explicit language, alcohol, slight sexual content, anxiety disorder

A/N: i don’t think i can stress this enough, but i’m so fucking excited for this one. each chapter is inspired by a symphony, solo, or quartet, and all of those you can find in a playlist if you click ‘chapter soundtrack’ on the fic page and here! each week i’ll be adding the symphony, solo, or quartet right before posting the chapter so keep an eye out, brothers. anyway, ENJOY THE FIRST CHAPTER OF A NEW AND LONG JOURNEY!! ILY AND PLS COME FREAK WITH ME ONCE YOU’RE DONE READING💞💞💞💞

thank you to @emotionally-imbruised @alwaysjacked-up and wifey @hsliveuntour for beta reading! ilysm

When change occurred, Y/N could feel it in the very pit of her stomach. The kind of feeling that would leave her trembling for no apparent reason, her whole body occasionally moving with a shiver, and leave her mouth dried up. As the farm she had lived on her whole life disappeared from view, it finally dawned on Y/N that she was leaving her old house, her old life, her old self, behind. Going away to university was something she had always wanted to do, but now that the day was here, she wasn’t so sure she wanted to leave Hawkley after all. Her whole life, Y/N had lived in Hawkley, Hampshire with her dad - George -, mum – Allison -, and little bother – Edward – and she knew no other life but the one in her little village, on her small family farm, surrounded by the best people the world had to offer.

Y/N had grown up among empty fields filled with possibilities and lush pine trees, the sort that would eventually be sold off as Christmas trees as November rolled around. George Picot was known for his Christmas trees, and all her life Y/N had helped cutting trees, sowing them, measuring them, and anything else her dad needed her help for. On a huge field outside their stone cottage were rows upon rows of pine trees, some having just been sown, others having stood there for years and ready to be shipped off to Christmas tree sellers across Hampshire. Walking among the trees, knowing that they would bring hundreds of families happiness, made everything inside Y/N sing with bliss. Y/N had set her mind on taking over the family business of planting and selling Christmas trees, their potatoes and other vegetables, as well as milk from their cows, because it was all Y/N had known her whole life. This was safe. Hawkley and the Picot Farm was safe.

But then one day, Y/N had picked up a violin at Music class at school when she was 12, and all she had known and loved before didn’t stand a chance. The violin, its four strings, and the bow suddenly became the loves of Y/N’s life. For seven years she had played the violin, not a single day passing by without feeling the wood and strings of it underneath her fingertips. She had known then, without a shadow of a doubt, that she wanted nothing but to play and create music for the rest of her life, with her violin under her chin and happiness laced around her heart.

“Next time you’ll see the Farm, it’ll be Christmas!” Edward exclaimed, smiling at Y/N as he did so.

Y/N smiled back at her brother, but quickly looked out the window of their black Toyota minivan at the countryside, her last glimpse of it for at least three months. Only once had Y/N been to London. It was when she was 12 and her brother 10. One Saturday the whole family had gone for a day trip to the capital, and for some reason Y/N had felt so right. The culture, the constant buzzing of people, the endless opportunities, being where it all happened. It was different from what she was used to, with the Picot Farm situated pretty much in the middle of nowhere and the everyone-knows-everyone culture of her little village Hawkley. She had known then, at the age of 12, that she someday wanted to move to London. Not to live there permanently, but maybe for university, a three-year long period. And that was exactly what she was doing now.

It was the first day of Freshers Week when the whole Picot family arrived at Battersea, University of London. A ton of students and their families were walking around campus to check in; get their keys to their accommodation, their student ID card, a whole lot of documents and booklets on how to survive uni, and their timetables. Freshers Week was the seven days when all the first-year students would go to countless of parties, get drunk, go to their first lectures and seminars with hangovers, and basically live their wildest life until university and seriousness in week 2 and onwards. Horror stories about Freshers Week had gone around college, Y/N remembered, about how people dropped out because the mere pressure of drinking everyday alone was enough to have people drop out. Y/N had never been a huge fan of parties. She was dreading Freshers Week.

“Come on, poppet, let’s check you in, yea?” George took his seatbelt off when he had parked the van, smiling back at his daughter. “You’ll stay here?” He asked Allison, who nodded.

Y/N sighed and, because of the odd taste in her mouth, it dawned on her that she hadn’t said a single word on the whole drive up to London. She swallowed.

George and Y/N made their way up to campus on the edge of Battersea Park, huge elegant white buildings, both old and modern, rising above them. Walking on the gravel path leading down to the Antonin Artaud Building - the main building - Y/N felt nerves press on once again. For every step, for every breath, she felt her heart beat faster and something inside her brain protest. The scary prospect of change, of being on her own and not seeing her mum, dad or brother everyday scared her. Why had she done this to herself? Why couldn’t she have chosen a uni closer to home so she could go back to the Farm on the weekends? What was she going to do without her mum? Who was she going to go to for her outlet of weirdness every day when she didn’t have Edward there? Y/N tried her hardest not to think about it. She could cry in her room later tonight. But not now. Not in front of her father. Not in public. She would not humiliate herself. Yet.

The Antonin Artaud Building was the place all Arts and Performing Arts lectures, seminars and gatherings usually took place. Y/N remembered this from having stalked the Battersea University website, as going to an Open Day at the university was too scary. Well, it could never be as scary as actually starting university. Again, Y/N pushed her own stupidity away, not wanting to have a mental breakdown right now.

Her dad opened the door into the main building for her, smiling and putting a hand on her lower back as they made their way inside. From an open pair of double doors, stood a long queue of freshers and their parents, the chatter loud and the sun shining in through the Victorian windows behind Y/N and George. She caught a glimpse of herself in the window, running a hand through her loose hair as she tried to calm herself down, to come back down to earth. Tight-fitted black and white checked trousers, her black vans, and a white tee shirt with the Tommy Hilfiger logo printed in black across her chest, tied at the front and wrapped around her waist, just above her belly button that was covered by the trousers. She loved her trousers, or any trousers with a pattern on it, really. She had no idea how many she owned, but she felt they went with almost everything, making her outfits a little livelier. She ran a hand over the fabric of her trousers, reminding herself that everything was fine. Touching something familiar grounded her. When her dad placed his hand on her lower back to walk along with him, she moved.

The queue behind her was longer now, if possible. Y/N inhaled, then exhaled. Inhaled. Exhaled.

“It’s going to be fine, poppet.” George said, noticing his daughter’s uncomfortable demeanour. “We’re going to check you in and then help you move in, and then you’re free, ey?”

“Next!” A dark-skinned girl smiled at Y/N from behind the check-in counter, waving her hand at her to come over. A row of tables stood before her, countless of volunteer students working to sign in first years. They all wore a baby blue tee shirt that read ‘Welcome! Ask me anything!’, and, all of a sudden, Y/N felt absolutely sick to her stomach.

“I’ll wait outside for you, Y/N.” Her father said, giving her shoulder a squeeze before he disappeared. Swallowing hard, Y/N watched her dad leave, heart racing. She could do this, she could do this, she could do this. Her dad was waiting outside. She could do thi-

“Miss?”

Y/N startled out of her inner monologue. Crossing her arms over her chest, she walked up to the lady who had called for her.

“Name, please.”

“Y/N.” She said, stopping a little as the girl raised her eyebrows. “Oh! Sorry. Y/N Picot.”

“P.” The girl said to herself as she turned to the table behind her, walking up the counter to the paper on the wall that read P. Inhaling shakily, Y/N tried to calm herself down. You did not embarrass yourself. She does not think you’re pathetic. Calm down.

“Picot.” The girl repeated. “Westbridge Halls, right?”

“Yea.”

“Don’t listen to those that say it’s the worst student accommodation, yea?” The girl smiled, putting a ‘How to survive uni’ booklet into a mustard coloured manila folder.

“P-People say it’s the worst?”

Noticing the slight stutter in Y/N’s voice, the girl’s face dropped. “Oh, no, no, no! It’s not bad at all! I lived there and I had the time of my life, honestly.” She smiled again. “Met some of my best mates and had an absolute blast. You will, too. Trust me.”

But Y/N didn’t know if she could.

“Okay, Y/N,” the girl looked up at her again. “You’re in House 3, Flat 34, room 3.” The girl explained. “The key is here,” she dropped it into the folder. “And you use that to get into your flat as well as your room, yea?”

Y/N nodded again.

“A map of campus is in here as well,” she took it out of the folder, laying it on the grey table between them. “Here you have Albert Bridge Student Accommodation right across the street from us,” she pointed. “Also the most expensive place to live if you want to live in halls, but you already knew that.” She moved her finger Lombard Road. “Here’s Cotton Row, second most expensive, and also only one building. There’s only 20 flats in it.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows a little.

“Yea, I know.” The girl snorted, moving her finger to Shuttleworth Road. “Then there’s Shuttleworth Halls. In my opinion, the ugliest of all four halls. It’s just grey and dreary, and everyone smokes weed.” She groaned. “And at last, we have Westbridge at Parkham Street. You’re coming here by car, I suppose, and it’s not hard to get there. You’ll see it the second you drive down Parkham Street.”

About to open her mouth, Y/N stopped herself as the girl continued.

“You’ll find your Student ID in here as well.” She picked the badge up, showing it to Y/N. “You use this as a library card, to scan your attendance at lectures, and you use your student number,” the girl pointed to a number on the card, right beside the awkward picture Y/N’s mum had taken of her to use for this exact card. Y/N cringed. “1448573, to log onto My Record and your unimail to log onto Canvas.”

“My Record?” Y/N blinked. “Canvas?”

“My Record is where you can find all personal and academic information, and also forms and documents, that you might need someday. Basically all information, you’ll find on My Record. Canvas is the place where you’ll find everything about your modules, where you hand in assignments, and stay in touch with tutors, lecturers and other peers. They have a Canvas tutorial for those that don’t understand it in like a week.”

The girl put Y/N’s badge back in the manila folder, putting another map of Westbridge Halls into it.

Y/N cleared her throat, toying nervously with her hair. “Do you… Do you know how many students will approximately be in my year?”

The girl closed the folder and handed it to Y/N. “About 9000.”

Y/N stayed silent.

“Think we’re 31000 in total. It’s mad, innit?”

Y/N nodded.

“Well, Y/N, before you go I need you to sign here. That way everyone knows you’ve checked in and all that.” She handed Y/N a pen, smiling her radiant smile at her. About to puke for what felt like the 84th time that day, Y/N bent over and signed her name right by where it stood in digital form. The sun from the windows behind the girl shone in, yellowing the paper and making the whole situation seem grander than it did before. Standing upright, the manila folder pressed to her chest and the girl still beaming at her, it felt like someone had stuffed Y/N’s ears with cotton as the girl spoke again.

“Have a great Freshers Week!”

Turning around, Y/N walked out past people who stood talking loudly to their parents, some who stared at the beautiful interior of the main building, and students who were already talking to others. It made her heart beat a little faster. And not in a good way. People were already making friends, and here Y/N was, not even sure how you initiated a conversation with someone else, let alone casually befriend them. She hated that she had put herself in this situation; hated that in a matter of an hour, she would be all alone, and her family would be driving back home to Hawkley. Once Y/N saw her dad with his hands in his high-waisted blue jeans and white David Bowie tee shirt tucked into it, she instantly relaxed. George’s grey hair shone in the sun, reminding Y/N of silver, and as he smiled at her, she cursed herself for ever thinking her dad to be anything resembling silver. They needed to name a whole new gem after him, because the way he radiated warmth, showing of nothing but goodness, was so beautiful and safe Y/N didn’t know how she would survive without his presence near her.

“Look at that,” George said, grinning. “A folder with information! You’re all ready to go, poppet.”

He threw and arm around her shoulders, and together the two of them walked back to the minivan.

“How did it look? Were there many people there? Did you see something cool? Who did you meet-“

“-You can look through the folder once we get to my dorm, that okay, Ed?”

Edward sighed at his sister’s tone, but nodded, knowing that she wouldn’t give him any information until she herself was ready to. Y/N told George to type in Parkham Street into their GPS, and that once they got there, they would be able to spot Westbridge Halls pretty easily, according to the girl she had been talking to. As George pulled away from the main campus, Y/N opened the manila folder and looked at its contents. Pulling her student ID card out, she took a good look at the picture she would be stuck with for the next three years, her student ID number, her faculty (Performing Arts) and her full name spelled out. Standing with a straight back, her hair pulled back, and arms limp at her sides, Y/N showed a tight-lined smile in front of a white wall in her little brother’s room back in Hawkley. Edward had made their mum take down all the pictures he had on his wall, and he had taken down those he could reach himself, just so Y/N could get the perfect shot. The instructions had been clear: don’t show your teeth, background should be neutral, and all of your face should be visible. So, that was what Y/N had submitted, even though she detested the image as she looked upon it now. With a mustard coloured tee shirt on, the rest of her body not pictured, she looked tense, as if an audience was watching her. Though it had only been Allison and Edward in the room when the picture had been taken, Y/N had still felt uncomfortable, hating being the centre of attention. She was the complete opposite of her little brother who was 17, who loved having all attention on him at all times.

George drove into the Westbridge Campus parking lot, whistling at the huge mass of students milling about. Y/N put the turquoise ID card back into the manila folder, swallowing thickly as she looked out the window at everyone that had already arrived. The nervous snake in the pit of her stomach hissed again, reminding her of how much she did not want to be left alone here; how little she knew about the world, and how she did not know how to live in it independently. Because she… she… she just couldn’t. She needed her parents there; her Edward.

Parking the minivan, George and Allison got out, both smiling as they looked at the light brown buildings that made the Westbridge Campus. George knocked on Y/N’s window, pointing to the back of the car when their eyes met. With the folder in hand, Y/N got out of the safeness of her family minivan and walked back to her parents

“Can I come out now?! I want to see!” Edward yelled as Allison opened the back of the car.

“Just wait, honey, we need to get Y/N’s suitcases and bags out before we can lower the ramp, yea?”

Edward groaned, but whipped out his phone and started playing something on it. George and Allison were quick to get everything out so he wouldn’t start complaining about how slow everything was going, because if Edward was in a foul mood, then everyone was in a foul mood. It was just the Picot effect. The entire family felt the same way about everything, always sharing opinions and moods. Out of everyone Y/N knew and had known, no one was as close with their family as her. And she would not have it any other way. Though, no one seemed to pick up on just how nervous and downright terrified Y/N was as she stood in the parking lot of her student accommodation.

Y/N stepped back as Allison got Edward’s ramp out, watching him as he carefully rolled back. George stood by the ramp to make sure Eddie didn’t fly off it and through the windows of a passing car. Once Ed’s wheelchair was on the ramp, Allison lowered it, and George shuffled out of the way so Edward could roll his way off it.

For as long as Y/N could remember, her little brother had been in a wheelchair. He had a rare case of spina bifida called something as simple as myelomeningocele. Spina bifida is a birth defect that occurs when the spine and spinal cord don’t form properly. The neutral tube is the embryonic structure that eventually develops into the baby’s brain and spinal cord, and the tissues that encloses them. There are three types of spina bifida, whereas Edward’s case – myelomeningocele – is the worst one. With the two other cases of the bifida, the patient is able to walk, something Edward has never been able to do properly. Sure, he could walk a few steps supporting all his weight on a pair of crutches, but most of his time when he was one the move, he spent in a wheelchair. Myelomeningocele is the most severe form of the three bifidas. The spinal canal is open along several vertebrae in the lower and middle back, making it hard to walk.

But regardless of the pain the spina bifida brought Edward, he was the happiest person Y/N knew. There was not a single human being on earth that could make her laugh or smile or live the way Edward did. And she was so incredibly scared to find how the lack of his presence would affect her mood and mental state.

“I’ll take the folder, Y/N, then you can take some of your luggage.”

Y/N gave him the folder, and he instantly looked into it, taking her student ID out.

“Edward, no!”

“It isn’t that bad-“

Y/N reached over and stole it out of his hands, holding it to her chest as she glared at her little brother.

“It’s not a bad picture!” Edward argued, a smile on his face.

“I’m going to kill you.”

“Nice. Finally I’ll be on the news.”

“Alright, you two, can we get a move on?” Allison asked, raising her eyebrows at her kids.

Y/N took the manila folder, put the ID card in it, and handed it back to her brother. Then, with a bag on her back, a suitcase in hand, Y/N and her parents walked over to the entrance to Westbridge Campus. The seven houses were all a light sandy brown, turquoise along the outlines of all the windows, all the doors leading into different flats the same colour and with a round window at the top, mail box just underneath. Each building shaped like a square with a pathway to all the different entrances, sported by lush green grass, trees and the occasional bench and table in the middle, making it each houses’ little garden. As the Picot family walked down the herringbone pavement, Y/N looked into each and every single one of the houses. A big opening was provided so one could easily see all the different people sitting outside already, and those walking in and out of their new flats with their parents. The first one to the left was house one, so the one right below it would be house three.

“Eddie, check the house number. Was it three?” George asked looking back at his son, turning his whole body as he couldn’t look over his shoulder where a bag was blocking the view. The whole family stopped by the road that led into house three as Edward couldn’t roll himself while checking the house number.

“House three, flat 34, room three.” Edward said, putting the paper down into the folder again. “That’ll be easy to remember, Y/N.”

Edward went first, George following right behind him, then Y/N, and Allison last. Edward looked around them at the different entrances, frowning a bit to himself. There were four doors, but along the side of the two outer edge pillars were a spiral staircase, each leading up to the second floor where another door was. George, sensing the confusion of his son, looked to a group of people sitting around one of the three tables in the green courtyard of House three.

“Excuse me!”

“Dad, no!” Hissed Y/N, but it was too late. Her father was already on his way over to them.

“Do you lot know which one of these are flat 34?!”

“You don’t have to shout.” Y/N mumbled to herself, feeling the incredible urge to become invisible.

“That one.” One of the girls pointed to the turquoise door behind Y/N, to her right. “That’s flat 31,” she pointed to the door behind and to the left. “Flat 32,” Front left. “33,” Front Right. “And flat 35, 36, 37, and 38 are all on the second floor.”

“Thank you so much. Were afraid we had gotten ourselves lost there for a second.” George’s laughter boomed thought the courtyard as he walked back the five steps to his family. “This one, poppet.” He said, pointing to the one behind Y/N and to the right.

“Really? It was so hard hearing every single part of your conversation.” Y/N turned around, knowing that the reason she was being a bitch was because of how immensely terrified she was of that moment her family would leave, and she’d be left all alone in big, scary London.

Edward rolled over to the door, fishing the key out of the folder and handing it to his sister, giving her a smile. It was that exact same smile that had cured her of so many anxiety attacks before, that had instantly made even her darkest days bright. And she hated knowing she wouldn’t see it after today for at least a month. She wasn’t sure how often she would go home to Hawkley on the weekends, but her mother had told her to stay at uni the first few weekends as it was important she got to know the people she was living with. And also to become more independent, though Allison had never said that out loud.

Reluctantly, Y/N put the key in and turned, opening the door into her new home for the next year. The walls were a dull cream colour, the carpet floors blue, and from how worn-out it looked, Y/N assumed this flat had been used for a few, lively pre-drinks in the past. As she stepped through the door, to her right was the stairs to the second landing of the flat, but she was too busy finding her room and getting inside to care about the second landing yet. Walking through the door right opposite her, she entered a hallway with the same cream walls and blue carpet, but along the wall in front of her were four wooden doors, each with a number placed on it. Y/N read from the top of the hallway and to her right; 1, 2, 3. At the top of the hallway was a door with a huge square glass window on it, and through it Y/N could see the kitchen. That meant the door at the other end of the hallway was the shared downstairs shower, and the door to the left and beside the one she was now walking through, was one of two toilets.

Y/N walked to room three with her suitcase dragging behind her, her hand with the key outstretched.

“Oi!”

Y/N stopped, looking over her left shoulder at her father that still stood in the doorway, looking back at the rest of the family.

“Give Y/N this.” It was Edward, and soon the manila folder was in George’s hands. “It’ll be a bloody round of Cluedo trying to fit me in through that maze. I’ll wait out here.”

“But Ed-“ Y/N stopped protesting, knowing that her brother was most likely right. Besides, he knew very well where he could and could not fit. But Y/N had so wanted to show him her new room, have him decide where she would hang his paintings as putting them up on a wall made him happy, and they were always so beautiful it was a privilege in itself to have Ed want her to have them. However, this maze of a house was not made for people in wheelchairs. Y/N hated this house already.

“Eddie will see your room when we bring his crutches next time, yea?” George smiled.

Y/N just turned toward her door, not answering to her father as she knew doing so would most likely bring her to tears. Any little thing could trigger her tears today, it seemed. Turning the knob, Y/N walked inside, looking around the room she would call home for the year to come. She flipped the switch to her right, illuminating the           yellow-white coloured room. Just to her right as she entered was a huge brown pinboard, covering most of the wall till it stopped by two dull cocoa brown shelves, a desk of same colour under it, sporting a blue Devonshire wooden frame armchair. Accompanying the chair to its left was a window, the same tedious blue on the curtains that were drawn before it. Behind the door stood a wardrobe in the same ugly brown as the shelf and desk, beside it a run-down sink and mirror with a shaving light above it. Y/N could already tell it was the kind of light that would blind you once you turned it on, so white you would be blinking away spots in your vision for weeks. In front of the sink, leaning against the left wall and the opposite one, stood a single bed, stripped bare to its white mattress alone.

“Well, go inside, then.”

Y/N did as her father said, walking over to the bed and putting the bag on her back down on the mattress before placing the key on the desk. Doing the same, George opened the curtains, letting some of the day’s sun in, and smiling at the simple view of house five right outside his daughters’ window. Allison came in right after, putting the suitcase with the other ones.

Allison put a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “George, why don’t you take Edward for a walk around campus while I help Y/N unpack, yea?”

“I’ll keep him company.” He gave Y/N a smile. “And I’ll be back to say goodbye to you.”

He walked out, and Allison had the same look as George on her face. A mixture of pride and sadness. Y/N looked away.

Together, they started unpacking the suitcases first, as her family were to take those with them back to Hawkley. Storing them in her tiny room would prove very difficult as there were no places to put them. Allison hummed a soothing melody, and Y/N got lost in her own thoughts, blinking away tears that were threatening to spill and quickly wiping away those that did. When George and Edward came back from their stroll, it was time to say goodbye. She walked outside with her mum, and the four of them walked to the entrance to house three, where they finally exchanged hugs and kisses. Allison hugged Y/N first.

“Goodbye, my sweet darling.” She said, smiling into the crook of her daughters’ neck. “Be good. I’ll see you very soon.”

Y/N nodded, giving her mum the biggest smile she could muster without bursting into tears right then and there. The smile wasn’t a big one.

“Poppet.” George embraced his daughter, stroking her back and swaying the two of them from side to side. “Have a blast, yea? And don’t distance yourself from the others. You’ll find university is bloody wicked once you take it all in.”

Y/N clung to her father, closing her eyes into his chest and willing the tears to leave. Willing all the sadness and the mortification and the dread of everything that was to come, to leave. But it didn’t. Because holding her father’s familiar frame and hearing his low chuckles roll softly off her skin, was nearly enough to make her collapse and beg them not to leave. So, her heart beating faster than it had ever done before, Y/N stepped away from her father, turning to her brother.

Edward resembled their mother as well, the same hair, eyes, and straight white teeth. Though where Y/N had gotten their father’s crooked bottom teeth, Edward had taken his dimples. He was one of the most charming, most caring, most beautiful people Y/N knew. Her best friend. And she had no idea what she would do without him. She bent down, hugging him against her, closing her eyes as she felt his fists against her back, holding onto her tee shirt. She felt him swallow, and uneven breaths, and while she would normally have mocked him for it, laughing at him for being a sap, she did not find it in herself to do so now.

“See ya, Goose.” Edward whispered into Y/N’s ear.

“Later, Maverick.”

Their favourite film; Top Gun. Neither knew when their obsession had started, but it had been their parents that initiated for the family to have a film night, George putting this on the telly for them to watch. And every film night since, they had watched Top Gun. Y/N and Edward did pull one of their laptops out every now and again, though, to watch it together. Ever since that movie night, they had gone by these nicknames. Y/N got to be Maverick since she fancied Tom Cruise mad.

The siblings pulled away, not looking at each other, both knowing it was for the best. With one last kiss on the cheek from both her parents, Y/N watched as Edward turned his chair around and her parents dragged three empty suitcases along the walk up to their car. Not wanting to linger there for a minute longer, not wanting to know if they looked over their shoulder at her, Y/N turned around and near jogged back to her flat. She needed to be alone. She needed to be alone now. Tears were threatening to spill. Her heart thumping in her ears. Vision blurry. She took a grip of the door handle, turning it. But it did not open.

No.

Oh no.

Oh God, please no.

Y/N went through her pockets, breathing heavier now as panic took over. Her front pockets were empty and she did not have any back pockets. She remembered the exact spot she had put it on her desk. And also how she had forgotten to bring it out with her. Calm down. Everything’s going to be fine. Just breathe. Closing her eyes, Y/N inhaled. Willing every cell in her body to stop buzzing with anxiety. She exhaled. Inhaled. Exhaled. But she could not stand outside her flat, as that would not help. The only thing she could do was ring the doorbell and hope someone was in. And what a great way to meet her new flatmates.

“Hi, I’m Y/N, the biggest muppet on the British Isles whose braincells often stop working. Nice to meet you.”

Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God. She had to ring the doorbell. She had to. Had to initiate an awkward conversation with someone she did not know. Because she couldn’t stay out there all day long. So, before she could think much about it, she rung the doorbell. Warm chills of nervousness swirled from her right pointer finger and through her entire body. It was the most uncomfortable heat wave Y/N had ever experienced. Fisting her hands at her sides, she looked through the round window at the top of the door, anxiously waiting. Finally, she heard a door shut, and soon after, a girl looked at her as she opened the door into the downstairs hallway.

“May I help you?” She asked, her voice a delicate sort of deep that most found enticing, like the slow fall cake batter did into its pan.

“I live here, but forgot my key in my room when I was saying goodbye to my family.” Don’t think about them, Y/N, don’t think about them. She swallowed thickly.

“Oh!” The girl smiled. “It was you we heard! Hi, I’m Tiana.”

She reached her hand out and Y/N took it, hoping Tiana didn’t take notice to how sweaty her hand was. Smooth black skin, and a smile that would leave everyone admiring her, Tiana had a charisma about her that Y/N was sure everyone around her would find appealing. Her long black hair fell down her back, being held back by a pink hairband, that almost matched her pink tank top.

“Y/N.”

“Welcome home, Y/N.” Tiana giggled, stepping aside to let her housemate in. “Which one of the rooms are you?”

“Room three.” Y/N said, watching Tiana open the door into the hallway.

Tiana gestured for Y/N to walk through first, and she gave her a smile before she did. “Then you’re my neighbour, I’m two.”

Y/N nodded, crossing her arms as she walked to stand outside her door. Her heart was still beating too fast for its own good. Calm down. Calm down. Calm down.

“One is Ian, two me, three you, four is Finn, five is Spencer, six is Annie, and seven is Becky.”

Y/N felt herself dizzying.

“We’re in the kitchen hanging out, if you wanna join.” Tiana said, pointing to the kitchen behind her with an inviting smile on her lips. “We’re just getting to know one another and having fun.”

Pinching her arm, Y/N gave Tiana a smile back. “I should really unpack.”

Tiana nodded, arm falling to her side. “Come out whenever you’re done, yea? We were kind of hoping you’d show up soon. Been dying to meet the last one.”

The last one. They had all been boding and talking and hung out before Y/N had even got her. Panic arose again, but Y/N pushed it down. At least some of it.

“I’ll be out in a bit.”

“Good! See ya, Y/N!”

Y/N watched as Tiana turned around and walked through the kitchen door, loud laughter wafting from the room for the few seconds the door was open. It shut behind Tiana, leaving Y/N all alone in the corridor. She knew she should have come into the kitchen. Knew she should sit down with her new flatmates and get to know them. Knew she should not retreat to her room like a dog with its tail between its legs, crying for shelter. But that was exactly what Y/N was doing. Opening the door into her room, she slowly closed the door behind her. The bags were still on her bed, none of them opened. The room was quiet, neither of her parents or any of her flatmates around. Not a single sound was audible except for Y/N’s breathing. In house five across from Y/N’s window, someone was walking around in their room as well, though they were not alone. It seemed to be three flatmates hanging out together. Already laughing. Bonding. Loving uni life already.

Y/N rushed over to the window, throwing the curtains shut. No sun shone in on her room now, no natural light. The tedious white lamp in the ceiling was the only thing helping Y/N navigate her way through her room. By the little space that was left to sit on her bed, she sat down, her right arm resting on one of her bags. She took in her small room again. How bare it was. The minimal personality. The tastelessness of it all. There wasn’t a definite time Y/N knew she started crying, but she was pretty sure when her eyes fell on the door, the same door her mum and dad had left through some minutes earlier, she knew she was utterly and completely alone.

Symphony No. 3, Allegro moderato played from Y/N’s laptop as she put her Hampshire Countryside calendar on her pinboard. Tuesday 30 September was circled as that was the day university started. Y/N had Mondays and Wednesdays off, meaning, if she wanted to, she could go home to Hawkley after classes on the Friday and come back to uni on Monday. Spend some calming time with her family, her cows, and the forest of future Christmas trees before heading back to busy London. But she had promised her mum to stay put in London for at least a month, and she intended to keep that promise to her mother. With her hands on her hips, Y/N looked around her newly decorated room. Her violin laid on one of the shelves, taking up most of the space, and the shelf over it was occupied by books alone. Her laptop stood on the desk with a lamp that had come with the room, as well as stationary she would need, such as post-it notes, pencils, erasers, and so on. Her bedsheets were draped in sunflower beddings, white and yellow fluffy blankets and pillow laid around her bed, making it very welcoming. Her pinboard was already decorated in pictures of her family, her timetable for her first semester, a dinner plan, and everything else she might need or think looked pretty. Her room finally felt somewhat hers.

The door into the kitchen opened, and Y/N jumped over to her laptop, pausing her music. Voices were heard as everyone walked off to their rooms, all of them sounding excited and happy. Y/N drew a hand through her hair, listening intently as everyone opened their doors and into private. The fact that everyone was now alone in their own rooms, now that Y/N wasn’t missing out on anything by being the only one not present, made her feel instantly better.

Suddenly there was a knock on her door. Head whipping in the direction of the door, Y/N felt a weird sense of being trapped. Whoever stood on the outside of her door knew she was in her room, she couldn’t not open the door for them. So, hesitantly, she walked over to it, opening to see Tiana standing on the other side.

“Hi, Y/N.” Tiana was smiling, looking so beautiful that Y/N had a hard time forming letters into words.

“Tiana, hi.”

“Okay so, we assumed you were busy unpacking, which I totally get because it took me two days getting things in an out of all my suitcases and for my room to look good, you know? So, we didn’t want to disturb you and make you come out of your cave if you didn’t want to.”

Y/N nodded, crossing her arms.

“We planned on going to Bop tonight as a flat. Pre-drinks will be in the kitchen at 6, so get dressed and get ready to party!” Tiana threw her arms up in the air, looking ecstatic. “That is, if you want to, of course! But we really, really want you to join.”

“What- What’s Bop?” Asked Y/N.

“The school club, basically. It’s on campus. Every Wednesday they have a party there, but since it’s Freshers Week, they host a party every single day.” Tiana let her arms rest on her hip. “So, what do you say?”

Nervousness piled up in the pit of Y/N’s stomach. If she started drinking she’d most likely not have control of herself by the end of the night, both embarrassing herself and making her flatmates think her annoying. Well… she wasn’t the worst drunk, but when she was nervous alcohol tended to have more of an effect on her. And she did not fancy letting her new housemates see her throw up on their shared toilet. Besides-

“I don’t have anything to drink.” Y/N admitted.

Tiana waved her hand at her. “Oh, you can borrow from me, babes. No problem at all.”

Y/N bit her lip. “You sure?”

“Oh yea! It’s only vodka, so I can’t drink a whole bottle alone. I’d be happy to share it with you.”

Despite how nervous Y/N was to meet everyone she was living with for the first time in the matter of two hours, she felt herself smiling at Tiana’s generosity. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me.” Tiana said, walking to her room beside Y/N’s.

“I’ll thank you anyway.”

Tiana giggled as she opened her door. “Fine. Oh!” She pointed at Y/N, eyes big. “Wear something slutty! Or something nice! Be sexy!”

And then she disappeared into her room, Y/N doing so too. Though Tiana was the complete opposite of Y/N in every way there was to be dissimilar to someone, she felt a strong liking for her already. She had been so keen on getting to know Y/N that it made a warm fire play inside her. Suddenly, Y/N was eager to get to know everyone as well, and she hadn’t thought she would be. Not at first, at least. But Tiana had made her feel so included, not at all invisible, and no one had ever really done that for Y/N before. Walking over to her laptop again, Y/N resumed her music before walking to her closet, opening it and looking through everything she had brought. She wanted to look good for her first night out with her – hopefully – new friends, so what she wore seemed to matter very much. Though, deep down, Y/N knew that no one would really care what she wore at the end of the day. But she still wanted to look good. If not for the others, then for herself.

Y/N looked at herself in the mirror.

A rust ribbed scoop neck bodysuit covered her top half, and a high waisted black coated skinny Yazmin jeans her lower half. Along with black heeled sandals, a pair of black cut-out teardrop earrings and a black handle cross body bag where she could have her phone in, Y/N thought herself ready. Charging by her bed, she got her phone, dropping it in her purse, and got her keys, putting them with her phone. She hovered by the door, hand on the door handle, and mind in turmoil. Music sounded from the kitchen, people already in there talking and walking around. She knew that her first time walking into the kitchen and meeting everyone else had to be now, and as scary as it was, she had to dive in head first. At the thought, her pulse quickened, and for a brief second, she closed her eyes.

But not for long. Because the door beside hers opened. Tiana. Y/N whipped her door open, stepping through it and into the hallway. For a single second, Y/N was surprised at her own actions at first, not necessarily understanding why she had reacted the way she had. But it soon dawned on her that walking through that door with Tiana, would somehow make it easier. Tiana was bubbly, loud, and – though Y/N did not know her flatmate well yet – loved attention. It would make he introduction to the rest of the gang shorter, Y/N believed.

“When I said sexy, I didn’t mean for you to try and outshine me, babes.” Tiana joked, hand on her hip and a smile on her face. It seemed the edges of her mouth were always tipped upward into a permanent beam.

Y/N gave Tiana a smile. “You look amazing.”

And she really did. Tiana wore a mustard ruched tight-fitted dress with chain straps, and when she did a twirl for Y/N, she had to bite her lip and convince herself not to let her eyes go all big. She really did look amazing.

“Thank you, Y/N. You’re an absolute stunner, you.” Tiana said, reaching her hand out for Y/N. At first, Y/N did not know what to do. But slowly, she walked over to Tiana and took her hand, the two walking over to the kitchen. Tiana turned the handle and walked inside, smiling at everyone sitting around the table.

“Everyone, last flatmate is here!”

Everyone cheered and clapped, and Y/N was suddenly overwhelmed by how excited all of them seemed to be to meet her. For the seconds they smiled at her, she took a few to look at the kitchen. Opposite to the door was a fridge, and then a counter, following along the wall opposite the door wit cupboards over it and stopping as it reached a huge window overlooking house five, the table for the house residence by it. Where the window stopped, the counter continued, cupboards over it, and another fridge where the counter ended. An oven and sink were also among the grey counters, both seemingly over-used.

“Y/N, so nice to finally meet you.” A boy with muscular build, black hair and beard said, giving her a smile.

“And you.” Y/N said, walking over to the table with Tiana after she got the two of them a glass each.

“Here you go, Y/N.” Tiana said as they sat down at the edge of the table. “Annie, could you pass me my vodka and juice, please, babes.”

The girl sitting by the wall, the window behind her, did as Tiana asked.

“Thanks, boo.”

Tiana poured vodka and cranberry juice into both of their classes as Sugar by Robin Schulz played from the speakers placed on the counter by the table. Just when Tiana poured juice into one of the glasses, Y/N noticed that it was the cranberry kind. She hated red berries. But since Tiana had been so nice to lend her some of her alcohol, she kept her mouth shut. She’d just have to endure the pain. No matter how bad she’d want to throw up.

“We’ll take a round of names then.” Said one of the boys, sitting by the wall, the speaker behind him. “I’m Ian, in room one, and I study Tourism with Business.” He had very sharp features, and short blonde hair, a mole on his cheek that moved as the corner of his mouth tipped up.

A small girl with long dark hair contrasting against her pale skin, looked at Y/N, smiling. “Becky, room seven.”

“Spencer, room five, studying Psychology.” Said the boy that had said it was nice to meet her when she entered. He was wearing a white shirt along with suit trousers. A very classy man, it seemed.

“And I’m Tiana, your neighbour, and I do Psychology and Counselling with Foundation.” Tiana said, grinning at Y/N.

Y/N cleared her throat, looking around the table at everyone and raised her hand in a wave. A wave? Y/N thought to herself. A wave?! You’re waving now?! “I’m Y/N, in room three, and I’ll study Music.”

“I also do Music.”

Y/N looked at the guy to her right; black, and with the brightest smile she had ever seen. His dark hair was short as well, skimming his scalp, and the minimal hair really fit him.

“Finn, room four, and your course mate.”

For some reason, this calmed Y/N, and she sunk a little into her chair. She smiled at him.

“I’m Annie, room six, and I also study Psychology.” Just like Becky, Annie had black hair, though her was straight, a little more volume. She also had a bit of a bigger frame, and clip-on nails in bright pink. Y/N smiled at her also.

“Okay!” Ian clapped his hand together again, gaining everyone’s attention. “Now that we’re all here, ready to get drunk, what do you lot say to a good ol’ game of Never Have I Ever?”

“Yes please!” Tiana sang, waving her arms above her head.

“Ready.” Finn said, grinning.

“Wicked. I have an app on my phone.” Ian got his phone, typing away on it before he looked up again. “Okay. We say one of the Never Have I Ever’s, then pass the phone on to the next person. Everyone knows how it works, yea?” Ian looked around the table, rather to help those in aid of instruction than to judge anyone.

“You just drink if you’ve done it, right?” Spencer asked, earning a nod and some ‘yes’s. “Cheers.”

“Okay, peasants,” Ian said, smiling at his phone. “Never have I ever injured myself trying to impress someone I was interested in.”

Annie, Finn, and Tiana drank, Ian laughing as he looked around the table.

“Explain yourselves!”

Tiana shrugged her shoulders. “Tried to strip at a party, but hit my head on the pole in the bedroom and passed out.”

Finn and Annie both blinked.

“Fuck, my injury pales in comparison.” Finn said, laughing. Annie nodded, agreeing. Everyone laughed, clearly impressed by Tiana and her wild past. Y/N even found herself laughing, something she didn’t think she would on her first day away from her family.

“Fine, snicker all you want.” Tiana said, holding up her hands in surrender.

“Did you get some, though?” Spencer asked.

“Get some? I was passed out.”

Spencer laughed.

“Becky, your turn.” Ian gave his phone to little Becky who took some hair behind her ear before reading out loud.

“Never have I ever broken something at a friend’s house and then not told them.”

No one drank, making Ian gasp.

“Are we all… good people?”

Finn chuckled. Spencer took the phone from Becky’s hand, clicking on it for the next one to pop up. A low whistle escaped his mouth, a smile soon accompanying it.

“Never have I ever been upset by a partner not performing well in bed.”

Becky drank, as everyone else catcalled and ‘ooh’ed. Putting her glass down, she smiled at everyone around and shrugged her shoulders, radiating a ‘what can I say’ vibe that made Y/N giggle. She reached for a glass and took a sip, trying not to grimace as she swallowed the cranberry juice and vodka.

“Y/N, you too?” Ian asked, grinning.

“No, I was just drinking.” Answered Y/N, feeling herself blush a bit.

“My turn.” Tiana sang, taking the phone from Spencer. She squealed. “Never have I ever sucked toes.”

No one drank, and Tiana raised her eyebrows, nodding.

“Nice, no one with a weird foot fetish that I need to steer clear from then.” Tiana gave the phone to Y/N along with one of her beams. “Y/N’s turn.”

“I do have a foot fetish.” Finn admitted, sipping his glass. “But I don’t suck on them… If you know what I mean.” He winked, sending the table into hysterics of either laughter or shouts of disgust. There was absolutely no way Y/N could try to stop her giggles. She had been so tremendously scared of this day, to meet all of these new people she would be living with, if she’d get on with them or not, and she found herself very much having a great time. Yes, she’d much rather be home with her family, watching Top Gun with Edward and walking along the endless moors with her mum, but this was a decent second option. At least she wasn’t nervous anymore. Or as nervous.

“Go ahead, Y/N.” Tiana said once the shouts had calmed down.

Y/N cleared her throat. “Never have I ever ridden an animal.”

“Like… cowgirl?” Becky raised her eyebrows.

“Most likely not in the sexual way of riding things.” Annie said.

“Just wanted to make sure.”

Y/N drank, and so did Spencer. Since everyone’s eyes were on her, Y/N had to fight as hard as she could not to show how much she really hated the taste of cranberry. Not that vodka was any better, but she would’ve drank it clean rather than with cranberry juice.

“A horse.” Spencer explained, eyes falling on you.

“A cow.”

Silence.

“Cow?” Finn asked, not being able to help his snicker. He seemed to enjoy having a laugh as that was what he seemed to be doing most of the time.

“Yea, we have cows on my farm and when I was younger my dad would put me on one of them called Rita, and I’d get to ride her while my dad held my hand.” Explained Y/N, sipping her drink again out of reflex, not thinking that she had to once again not gag after swallowing.

“You grew up on a farm?” Ian turned the volume of the speakers down.

“Yea, in Hampshire.”

“Bloody hell.” Ian exclaimed. “I’ve lived in London all my life, never even seen the bloody ocean.”

“I’ve seen the ocean, but never ridden a cow.” Becky huffed. “London life isn’t as adventurous as one might think.”

“Oh, no one thought the London life was adventurous to begin with, darling.” Spencer joked, making everyone laugh again.

Y/N handed the phone over to Finn who clicked on it for the next statement to pop up on the screen. “Never have I ever been arrested.”

No one drank.

“You lot aren’t a fun lot then, are ya?”

The gang continued playing the Never Have I Ever game, getting to know one another and having loads of laughs in the meantime. An hour and a half later, and everyone were mostly drunk, but not Y/N. She had told Tiana no when she was about to make Y/N another glass of vodka and cranberry juice, which she loved herself for. Tiana hadn’t questioned it, which Y/N was grateful for. And now, the flat was about to leave for Bop, ready for their first night out together. However, a very sober Y/N was searching for a way out, for a time when no one would notice her slip into her room for a breather. As much fun as she was having, she felt her batteries drain quickly as social interaction sucked the will to live right out of her. Just as the rest walked out the door however, Y/N last, she noticed Annie walk up to the first landing. Pity flooded Y/N, her chest giving in a little as she just watched Annie. She must have felt someone else’s presence, as she looked over her shoulder at Y/N, face blank. Y/N saw herself in that face. Saw herself in those anxious eyes, and in the helpless set of Annie’s shoulders; tense, like she was a little too nervous to come out with the rest. Annie was doing what Y/N wished she had the courage to: stay back and not go out with the flat.

“Y-You okay?” Y/N asked, holding onto the strap of her purse.

“Yea, just not feeling well. Have fun.” And then Annie disappeared.

Y/N thought about Annie walked off all the way to campus. Sad for her, at the same time envious. It was a weird mix of emotions, and Y/N could not for the life of her explain it rationally. But she guessed the reason for it was that she did not want to go out with the flat after all, but the pressure of missing out on something, being that one weird flatmate who barely emerged from her room, didn’t sound very appealing. Y/N wanted to at least try to keep up.

Bop was dark, only the corridor lit in white lights, and Y/N knew it would blind everyone walking in and out. The bar shone of purple, and so did the dancefloor, blurring out everyone’s facial features and making it hard to concentrate for longer periods of time. But the flat mate it in as a group, the music loud and the small student club crowded. Y/N felt uncomfortable, running her hands through her hair and giving Tiana a smile when she caught her eye every now and then. She had never really been in a club before. Sure, there was a single club home on Hawkley, but not as grand as this one. Not that this one was impressive, but Y/N imagined it would be if she had been drunk; the dizzying and happy glasses that drunkenness provided you with would have made her oblivious to the bad music and disgusting lads trying to get it on with pretty girls.

Y/N still thought of Annie and how she had just left her in the flat. She knew Annie most likely did wanted to be in the flat, but she could not help feeling bd regardless. Maybe she should have tried to convince her to come? Maybe she wanted someone to stay with her and Y/N hadn’t taken the hint? Was she a bad person for leaving? Y/N blinked herself out of her own trance when Tiana took her hand and dragged her over to the bar.

“I need a drink.” Tiana shouted to Y/N over the music.

“Then let me buy you one.”

Tiana looked to her right and away from Y/N who instantly shrunk. She did not want to be part of this conversation, some kind of weird third-wheel to whatever was going to happen between Tiana and that blonde guy she was now staring down. He was handsome, Y/N had to admit.

“Danny.” He said, introducing himself with a charming smile. “And you must be Beautiful.”

Tiana laughed and Y/N rolled her eyes, trying not to make it obvious just how strange she already thought this lad was.

“Tiana, Beautiful is my middle name, though.”

“Have no doubt.” Danny turned to the bartender. “Two apple ciders, please.”

“ID?”

Danny got his wallet out, giving the bartender his driver’s licence, Tiana doing the same. He gave it back to them when he could confirm they were over the age of 18.

Tiana clicked her tongue. “I do like the apple ciders, though the strawberry and lime ones are better.”

“Hey, bartender!” Danny leaned over the bar, catching the attention of the person who took his order. “Change one of the ciders to a strawberry and lime one, yea?”

Y/N was completely forgotten after that. She didn’t blame Tiana for having fun, for flirting with a guy and clearly having a good time, she wanted her to. But as she stood by the bar counter, shaking her head when the bartender asked if he could help her, or when she looked around and didn’t see any of the familiar faces from her flat, she felt completely alone again. Sober and not having an idea as to what to do, Y/N opt for the best option she had: take care of a very drunk Tiana. Though it seemed like her flatmate was having a good time, she didn’t want to lose sight of her and have her end up somewhere with someone she would regret. So she stayed put, acutely aware of Tiana and Danny drawing closer and closer to one another, giggling into each other’s ears. They even started making out at one point, but Y/N would rather forget about that moment when she felt Tiana lean against her, only to be horrified and see Danny – in almost every sense of the word – devouring Tiana.

“Danny!”

Tiana and Danny stopped their kissing and giggling to look at the guy that had just appeared by the latter’s side. Y/N couldn’t get a good look at the intruder, but thanked him for temporarily stopping whatever awkward threesome Y/N was finding herself in. Danny and this other guy talked, and Tiana turned to Y/N.

“He’s cute.”

“Who?” Y/N frowned, the loud music deafening.

“Danny’s flatmate.”

Y/N tried to get a good look at him, but to no avail. It was dark, the purple light from the bar made it hard.

“I guess.” Y/N agreed, looking back at Tiana.

“While I go fuck Danny, you can try it on with the flatmate.”

“Tiana.”

“What?.” Tiana shrugged. “It’d be cute! We shagged two people from the same flat.” She grinned. “On the same night!”

“I’m not sleeping with him.”

“Why not?”

“Because I just…” Y/N looked away from Tiana, feeling very small again. “I just… don’t want to.”

Sensing Y/N to be uncomfortable talking about this, Tiana stopped pressing her, and instead placed a hand on Y/N’s shoulder. She gave it a squeeze, and Y/N looked up at Tiana again, feeling something other than comfort in the way she touched her. Like she knew how Y/N was feeling.

“Hey,” Danny dragged Tiana toward him, the hand on Y/N flying off her. “Wanna go somewhere private?”

Y/N did not hear the rest of their conversation, they were off before she knew what Tiana had answered him with. Open-mouthed, Y/N watched them run off, grabbing at each other and kissing. For the life of her, Y/N had no idea how someone could decide they wanted to have sex with one another after not even an hour in each other’s company. Sure, both Danny and Tiana were hot, but… what? Y/N tried not to be judgemental, but she could not help herself. This was so unlike anything she would ever do and think decent that she was absolutely stunned. She guessed they were just that horny.

She looked to Danny’s flatmate who stood looking after them as well. Brown curly hair that reached his jawline, a cream silk shirt on that was tucked into his brown trousers, held up by suspenders that ran in a cross along his back. He was handsome, Y/N thought, now that she got a better look at him. Maybe even better looking than Danny, though, for some reason, Y/N doubted he’d admit he was pretty to stare down. Suddenly, and with a sigh, he walked off.

Y/N walked around the club alone. She tried to find any of her flatmates, but the crowd was huge, and the dim lighting made it impossible to recognise anyone. Dancing at first had been fun, but this night seemed to grow worse by the minute. Once again Y/N was inside her room, everyone outside it having the time of their lives, making the most of the start of university. But she was all alone, isolating herself. She didn’t know how to have a good time in a place she felt so out of touch with, or how to blend into a crowd she did not want to be a part of.

She did not know how long it had been, but Y/N found herself in the corridor again, the one leading out of Bop. About to walk out and back to the flat, she saw someone in her peripheral vision, leaning against the wall of the corridor by the bathrooms. Looking around, Y/N blinked as she was still not used to the bright lights after having been in the cub for so long. Her eyes landed on Danny’s flatmate, hands in his pockets, back against the wall while he looked down at the floor. He seemed to be waiting for something, maybe to go to the loo, or maybe for someone, Y/N did not know. Neither did she know why she walked over to him. There were three different toilets; women, men, disabled. The flatmate stood on one side of the disabled toilet’s door, looking up at the wall before him as Y/N leaned against the other side of the door.

“They’re fucking in there.” He said, voice deep, and Y/N thought she might hear a slight tinge of sleepiness in there as well. It seemed he was very tired.

Y/N shuddered a little, nodding as she too stared at the wall ahead. “So… Danny’s your flatmate?”

Heart thumping fast, Y/N suddenly felt all kinds of nauseous. She hated initiating conversation, hated putting herself out there for rejection and humiliation to take hold of her.

“Yes.” He said.

Y/N nodded again, exhaling quickly as she felt awkward. “Why are you waiting out here for him?”

He sighed heavily. “Same reason you are, probably.”

Y/N looked at him. Because you’re terrified of social interaction and feel uncomfortable in crowds? Y/N was about to ask-

“Babysitting a horny lad with three braincells.” He said. “Whereof two are on vacation and the last one on its deathbed.”

Y/N stared back at the wall. “Well, at least they’re having fun.” She said, trying to sound somewhat positive. But the last only snickered.

“Having fun? We’re out here waiting for them to blow their load so we can go home. I don’t give a shit if they’re having fun.”

Y/N did not know what made her do it, did not know the name of the demon that possessed her as she opened her mouth next, but she was unable to stop herself. “At least they’re not waiting outside for someone to be done shagging so they can go back to their flat and to bed. Because that’s so fun.”

For the first time, he looked at her, brows in a furrow and mouth in a thin line. Y/N did not dare look back at him, fear of what had just said, of how she had probably already made someone she barely knew hate her, was too much. Blinking rapidly as tears of stress swam in her eyes, Y/N bit her bottom lip. But she did not have to stand there in that uncomfortable situation for long, because the door into he disabled loo opened, and Tiana stepped out with Danny who slammed the door shut.

“Thought I heard your voice.” Tiana said, smiling. “Come, let’s go back to the flat.”

Tiana took Y/N’s hand, dragging her along.

“Call me!” Danny shouted, and Tiana giggled.

Just as they were about to round the corner, Y/N looked over her shoulder and down the toilet’s corridor again. She met his eyes, the flatmate, and he seemed so confused still, so bewildered, that Y/N didn’t know what to make of it. While Tiana talked all the way home, Y/N tried to decipher that look; tried to understand. But she couldn’t. And she wasn’t so sure she wanted to either.

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[emulateharry]

Five Weddings

Written as a gift for goseaward as a part of Grylesfest 2019 on ao3.

ONE

The sun was just past the zenith and starting its descent, splashing golden light on the gathering at the edge of the black sand.  Nick stood at the end of the aisle with Pig and Aimee, who, by virtue of her online ordination by the Universal Life Church, was officiating.   When the string quartet began playing Pachelbel, he looked up to see Meshach standing under a bower of tropical flowers at the other end of the long white walkway, Stinky on a leash at his feet.  With a wide smile, Mesh began his slow walk past family and friends to his groom, Stinky padding proudly beside him.  Nick looked around trying to fix all the details in his memory.  He tried to look serious but could not contain his smile.  He was getting married.  On the beach.  In Paradise. 

Images flitted through his mind of all the years he thought this day would never come for him.  First because it wasn’t legal (such bollocks) and then because he never thought he would find someone (not so much bollocks).  Well, not someone that he truly fancied who fancied him back. He slid his eyes to his left, pausing on Harry, who was half-turned away from him.  Harry’s expression was serious, almost stoic, as he watched Mesh walk down the beribboned and flowered runner.  With a tiny shake of his head, Nick brought his attention back to the man he was about to pledge his life to.  Just as Mesh reached Nick and Aimee, Pig let out one of her grunting barks, an inelegant sound that inspired her name, and the guests laughed. 

“Meshach, I promise to love you as much as I do our dogs.  From this day forward, I will lint roll the chairs whenever your parents visit.  I will love you in sickness and in health, as long as you help with the vet visits.  I promise to cuddle you as much as I do Pig and Stinky and to pick up treats for you whenever I get some for them.  When you’re having a bad day, I promise to sit close by and nuzzle you until you feel better.  I promise to be your biggest fan, to encourage you to pursue your dreams.  I promise to love you enthusiastically and fiercely and forever.”

Nick’s voice cracked slightly on ‘forever’ but his smile grew wider, if that were possible, as he turned back to Aimee.  She took both their hands.

“Today is all about love.  It has been my honour to officiate your ceremony and now I get to say something you’ve been looking forward to.  I now pronounce you married.  You may kiss your husband.”

The kiss was sweet and hot and gentle and filled with promise.  As they parted, Nick whispered an “I love you” that only Mesh could hear over the applause of the guests.  Mesh pulled him into a hug and Nick tucked his face into his husband’s neck.  When he opened his eyes he saw Harry standing and clapping but Harry wasn’t smiling like everyone else, in fact, tears were streaming down his cheeks.  Alexa handed Harry a tissue and he dabbed at his eyes.  Meshach released Nick and they both bent down to love on the dogs, who had been miraculously well-behaved during the short ceremony.  Handing their leashes to Aimee, Nick took Mesh’s hand and they walked back down the aisle together, the sun still smiling on them. 

The dinner reception was a blur.  The toasting and the roasting and the champagne and lack of food, combined with the energy and anticipation of the day, had pushed Nick just over the line of intoxication.  Mesh was dancing with Aimee and with Nick’s sister Jane when Nick finally got a chance to sit with Harry and Alexa, his suit jacket long since discarded somewhere in the room.  Alexa was teasing him about the vows he had written while Harry watched quietly, a smile on  his perfect pink lips.  Nick recognised it as his public smile, not a real heartfelt expression of happiness.   Nick knew that face better than its owner sometimes.  His gaze slid up to Harry’s eyes and locked there.  He almost gasped, those green eyes undid him every time.  Even today, his wedding day, those eyes captivated him and drew him in.  And he saw… sadness?  What was that about?  Harry quickly looked away, and Nick winced at the loss of connection, so he did what had always worked in the past to cheer Harry up. 

“Okay, Styles.  What’s with the teary eyes?  I saw you blubbering away there.”

The flush that crept into Harry’s cheeks only made him more attractive, damn him. 

“I always cry at weddings,” he murmured defensively.

“Your mum’s, Jay’s, Ben’s—no tears.”

“Not that you saw, Grimmers.”

“Mmhm.  Well.  Not today, Henry, not today!”  Nick stood up and grabbed Harry’s hand, pulling him up too.  “Alexa, be a darling and commemorate this auspicious moment of my wedding day...the moment that Henry Stars smiled.”

Harry’s lips began to curl up in the corner of his mouth, whether from the silly tone or the physical contact, Nick wasn’t sure.  He reached up and squeezed Harry’s cheeks between his fingers and cooed at him.  “Come on now, give us a grin.”

“Stop, Nick!”  Harry barely managed to contain the giggle that threatened. 

“Who’s got a pretty smile?  Who’s got a pretty smile?”

Harry laughed at the silliness of the situation and posed for Alexa.  At her “Got it”, he turned and hugged Nick fiercely. 

“Wish you all the happiness, Nicholas.  You deserve it.”

Nick felt his throat constrict and his own eyes prickled.  He looked at Harry’s expression and could not help himself.  He reached up to stroke his cheek.  Later, he would put it all down to the high content of alcohol mixed with his blood and bathing his brain, but in that moment, the life that would never, could never, be flashed before his eyes.  He felt a momentary stab of pain, a pain so great that he gasped out loud.

“Are you okay?”

“Cramp.  Big toe.  Fuck’s sake that hurts,” he said, bending down to massage the supposedly offending digit through the shoe leather.  He hoped that the distraction had worked on his friends … and himself. 

With the perfect timing of his profession, Mesh glided over and drew his husband onto the empty floor for a romantic ‘first dance’.  Nick’s attention was thankfully fully captured, and he didn’t notice when Harry excused himself for the evening.  Only later in the weekend did he realise that Harry must have left Hawaii early without saying goodbye, because he didn’t see him again.

TWO

 Nick sat at his assigned table on the left side of the room.  He was attempting to entertain Ellie or Emmy (or whatever her name was, Nick couldn’t be arsed to remember) while Harry was toasting his sister and her newly minted husband.  It wasn’t easy because Elspeth seemed immune to irony and inflection and thus his humour was falling flat.  He was about to try a knock-knock joke on the model when Harry returned at last. 

Nick averted his gaze as she pulled Harry close and tried to choke him with her tongue, at least that’s what it looked like to Nick, and he swallowed down a retch.  He reached for his glass of water and distracted himself from the show the waifish mannequin was putting on.  What the fuck was Harry thinking?  He saw the woman’s hand slide to Harry’s crotch and give a squeeze.  Harry giggled.  Ugh.  Of course.  He was thinking with his cock. 

God, Nick felt bitchy today.  Understandable, really.  It had been less than a year since his marriage had dissolved like a fizzy pink bath bomb in a giant tub of water, and weddings still rubbed the wound painfully.  Mesh seemed to be recovered and happy, he had moved on before the ink on the dissolution was dry.  It was taking Nick a lot longer.  It’s because you’re getting old.  It was a constant refrain in his head, these days, a reminder that life was slipping away and everyone around him was settling down.  Well, except for Harry.  He was still happy sampling the smorgasbord of women the world had to offer him.  And Nick?  Nick couldn’t even get a decent date to a friend’s wedding.  So unfair.  Gah.

“Oi!  Nicholas!  Over here!”  Harry was snapping his fingers at Nick after having extricated himself from the octopus. 

“What are you on about?”

“D’ja like my speech?  Michal almost choked on his champagne,” he said proudly and with only a slight slur.

“Yeah, Harold, it was really good.”

“I told Mum Gems would like it.  Doesn’t she look great, Grim?”  Harry’s face shone with happiness as he watched his mother and sister on the dais.  He turned to Nick, seeking his 

confirmation.

It took Nick’s breath away.  That face, those eyes, the light of a thousand suns.  The first time Nick had seen that expression was years ago, after the Brits.  Nick was still on the Breakfast Show and him and Harry had stayed out until the wee hours partying.  They went back to his flat so that he could shower and change clothes before work.  Harry was a cuddler, especially when he was drunk, and he’d snuggled up to Nick in the car and it was like freeing himself from a koala to get them both into the flat.  They were giggly and breathless and once the door was closed behind them, Harry had turned to Nick and kissed him.  A soft, happy kiss.  A taste of the nectar that ancient bards sang about.  As first kisses go, it was perfection.  Nick had been instantly sobered yet impossibly drunk on Harry.  When they pulled apart, Nick saw Harry’s expression, his innocent look of adoration, and knew that nothing else in life would ever compare to witnessing it.

“Yes.  Beautiful.”

Harry grinned at him before his attention was snatched away from Nick by... Dora?  Nora?  Nick watched them together and was puzzled.  What did Harry see in her, besides the obvious?  Yes, she was pretty in that cookie-cutter model way, but forget being able to have a conversation.  Her IQ was south of 90 and her repertoire seemed to be limited to 5 or 6 topics on a good day, basically a troll with a pretty face.  Meanwhile, Harry was innately intelligent and constantly challenged himself to keep his mind sharp.  He was well-read and well-travelled and could conduct himself respectably whilst conversing on almost any subject.  Nick found himself assessing the odds that this ‘relationship’ would last longer than a month.  Not that Nick had any room to throw stones on that account. 

Harry leaned over to kiss her, (what was her name? Philistia? Phlegm?) but was stopped by her finger on his lips.  She had just applied lipstick and didn’t want him to muss it.  Harry smiled and moved to kiss her cheek instead.  Nick nearly goggled at her stupidity and swallowed a snarky comment with a sip of water.  When one is given the opportunity to touch that beautiful mouth with one’s own, one never, ever turned that down.  Yet she did.  Several more times before the evening was over, in fact.  Idiot.

Nick stayed through the first dance, through the karaoke, through Mr. And Mrs. Mlynowski’s well-choreographed departure.  He had a lovely conversation with Anne, ate more than he should have and then pleaded a headache so that he could escape, escape the presence of so much happiness and hope.  It was far too painful to contemplate, and watching Harry with, er, Consomme’ only added to the hurt and loneliness that he felt. 

Nick was waiting for the valet to return with his car when he heard his name.

“Nick!”  Harry was hurrying out to the queue line. 

“‘M so glad you could make it, Nick.”  Harry reached out to hug him.  Nick hesitated for only a fraction before allowing himself to be drawn in.  He let himself relax into Harry’s arms, let the scent of alcohol and spicy cologne envelope him.  The brush of Harry’s lips against his cheek made him smile, his first genuine smile of the day. 

“Call me next week, k?” Harry said, and then he was gone.  

Nick was left stood alone on the kerb and the valet was holding the car door open for him, so Nick went home and watched ‘The Notebook’ and indulged in ice cream and maudlin thoughts of romance and impossibilities.

THREE

The breeze smelt of brine and freshness as it blew over the castle walls and into the courtyard.  Nick lifted his face to the sun and enjoyed its warmth in the cool air.  November 1. Samhain.  A legendary good day to begin a marriage, the end of the harvest and the beginning of the quiet time of year.  

It was early yet and he had come out to the garden to take in the beauty of the day and sip his tea.  At the clink of china, he looked up to find Harry walking towards him carrying a cup and saucer of his own.

“Morning Nick.  Beautiful day for a wedding.”

“Harold!  When did you get in?”

“About 2 this morning.  Had to drive up from Manchester.  There was a mix-up in the travel plans and Glenapp Castle is not the easiest place to get to.  On a side note, I’m looking for a new assistant.”

Nick laughed at his obviously false grumpy tone and stood to hug him.  “Well, whatever.  I’m glad you’re here.”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”  

There was a certain gruffness to his tone that he tried to cover with a cough.  Nick smiled indulgently and offered him a scone.  They caught up for a few minutes, Nick laughing at one of Harry’s jokes and then falling silent.  He closed his eyes and smiled, trying to catalogue all the emotions running through his veins.  Happiness, joy, hope, and a bit of nerves if he was honest.  He was grateful to have his best friend there with him. 

“Where is Adam?” Harry asked, bringing Nick out of his reverie.

“Not sure.  Sleeping in maybe.  And it’s Calvin—you know that.”

‘Yeah, like my name is Harold or Henry Stars.”

Nick snickered.  “Yes, Henry, my MUM asked about you last night.”

Harry shook his head, smile growing.  “Will she ever learn my name?”

“Dunno.  Got her so confused with Adam Richard Wiles and Calvin Harris—she calls him Dickie and that’s that.”

Harry laughed out loud.  “Dickie and Nickie.  I’ll have to get you some personalised pillows or some such.”

“Don’t you dare!  By the way, I had the weirdest dream last night.  You and I were running through my old neighbourhood in Oldham wearing kilts and trying to find all the sweets.  An old crone was laughing at us and grabbed us both by the ears.  She gave us each a coin, filled our sporrans with candy, and sent us out the door, whacking our bums with a broom made out of rosemary.”

“How much did you have to drink last night?” Harry asked with a laugh.

“Not enough for that kind of dream.  Anyway, when I woke up this morning there was a sprig of rosemary and a sixpence under my pillow.”

“That’s really weird.”

“Oh, shut up Henry.”

They finished their tea and, realising the time, headed to their rooms in the castle to get ready for the ceremony which was scheduled for 1 pm.  Harry got dressed in his room then headed upstairs to help Nick with any last minute details.  Nick looked up when Harry entered and gave a low whistle.  Harry was wearing a traditional Highland tartan kilt complete with jacket, waistcoat, a sporran and hose.  He had a white lace jabot at his throat.  His only departure from tradition were custom Gucci brogues.  Damn but the man was beautiful. 

“Are you…” Nick began but Harry interrupted him.

“Of course.”  Harry turned his back to Nick and flicked up the edge of his kilt, mooning his best friend.

Harry greeted Aimee and made conversation while Nick recovered himself.  Unlike his first wedding, Aimee was not officiating this one.  Instead she was Nick’s best man, a role Harry would have been honoured to fill but he hadn’t been asked.

“So what are your duties Aimee?  Hold the rings?  Calm down the groom?  Or at least one of them?”

“Yeah, Harry.  Oh, I get to help with the hand-fasting too,” she answered.

“The what?”   

“It’s a Scottish tradition.  Cal always wanted to include it when he got married,” Nick explained. 

“I still have no idea what you are talking about,” Harry said.

“Here, it’s like this Harry.  Do you have a cord or a ribbon?”

Harry reached into his sporran and removed a banana, his mobile, and a Gucci tartan scarf.

“The scarf, give it to me.  Okay.  So you and Nick hold hands.  No, both of them.  Yeah, like that.  Then the ribbon, or in this case the scarf, is wound around your hands and then tied loosely.  A blessing is offered and voila’.  You’ve tied the knot.” 

She was grinning at them.  Nick rolled his eyes and shook the scarf loose.  

“It’s all bollocks if you ask me.  But my fiancé wanted it, and I want to make him happy.”

“Well then, Nicholas, that is what you should do.” 

***

 Tuesday morning, headlines in The Sun and Daily Mail screamed about the secret wedding of legendary DJ Calvin Harris, nee’ Adam Richard Wiles, and television and radio presenter Nick Grimshaw.  The happy couple was said to be honeymooning at an undisclosed location.  The paps had been out of luck and only the official photos released by the happy couple were used.  Harry meanwhile had been caught at Heathrow and dozens of shots were circulating the internet.  Fans were disappointed that he was not smiling in any of them.

FOUR

“And Chris told me that Gwyneth sent them a gift,” Nick muttered conspiratorially to Harry before taking another drink of champagne.

“No! What was it?  Poisoned fruit or summat?”

“It was a set of holistic linen sheets, handmade while the crafter thinks happy thoughts about the recipient.  Oh!  And it came with an aphrodisiac candle and some aromatherapy good mojo spray.”

“Did Alexa toss them into the rubbish bin?”

“No, she said she’d use them in the guest room.  One of them at least.”

Their laughter was interrupted by the return of Harry’s date, Clarissa.  She plopped onto the seat next to him and affected a pout.  Nick used every ounce of his self-control not to roll his eyes.  Harry had dated some vacuous women in the past but this one was the worst.  He could not understand what Harry saw in her. 

Avaricious, spoiled, and damn near anorexic; she wasn’t even pretty. Nick worried about Harry sometimes.  Okay often, he worried about him often.  As Harry got closer to his 30th birthday, and he’d just turned 29 in February, he seemed to be more and more restless and determined to find the perfect mate.  It was like his biological clock was ticking or something. 

Nick hadn’t been to his friend’s last birthday party.  He had been in the throes of his second disintegrating marriage.  It was all his fault, really.  At least that’s what Cal had said just before he slammed the front door and then whooshed out of the garage never to be spoken to again.  Why couldn’t he remain friends with his exes? Other people seemed to have no trouble.  The only one he had managed to keep was Harry, and they had only dated briefly a decade ago.

Had it been that long?  

They had both been so young.  Harry had still been in One Direction and the Nazi-like management had nearly ruptured an artery when they found out he and Nick were an ‘item’.  Harry had quietly listened to their ranting and threats and then turned and walked out of the meeting.  He had gone straight to Nick’s and holed up there for almost a week, refusing to speak to anyone except Nick until his mother called him, worried. 

Harry had agreed to attend a meeting whereupon the management dicks hammered at him again about ruining the brand until he threatened to walk away from it all.  They had quieted down when they realiszed that this charming, soft-spoken kid was absolutely prepared to make good on his warning.  Harry ended up giving them an ultimatum before heading back to Nick’s.  Nick, who had been scared shitless for his boyfriend, was truly terrified when Harry recounted the relevant points of the meeting he’d just attended.  All he could see was the glorious career Harry was prepared to throw away for him… and he couldn’t let him make that sacrifice.  He told himself that Harry didn’t realisze what he was about to give up, that he worried that Harry would regret it and blame him.  

Their friendship had survived the break-up, barely.  Harry felt that his grand gesture hadn’t been appreciated for what it was: a declaration of love for Nick.  Nick felt that Harry was too young to realisze what he was doing.  They repaired the relationship one night when Harry was off tour with 1D and showed up at Nick’s with an armful of romantic comedies and a couple of bottles of tequila.  They drank and watched movies and hashed out the hurts until the wee hours of the morning.  Then they curled up in Nick’s bed and cuddled until they fell asleep. 

The tens of millions of One Direction fans had no idea how close they had come to losing their beloved boys two and a half years before the ‘hiatus.’

When Nick had first heard Made in the A.M. he had been shocked.  Though he hid it well at the station, he had taken the CD home and listened to one song over and over again.  Though they had never talked about it, Nick knew that “If I Could Fly” had been written about him.  He had spent the weekend drinking and crying over opportunities lost.

His rumination was ended abruptly by Clarissa’s long fingers snapping at him.  “Wake up Sleepyhead!  Do you want another drink or not?  I’m going to the bar.”

“I’m good.  Thanks,” he said. 

Harry had been summoned by yet another friend of the happy couple to pose for selfies with them.  Nick was watching him so intently that he didn’t hear Alexa swish up to the table.  He pulled his features into a mask, but it was too late.  She had seen.

“Why don’t you talk to him Nick?  I mean, really talk to him.  Tell him the truth.”

“Tell him what?  That a forty year old man with two failed marriages fancies him?”

“Thirty-eight.”

“Oh whatever.  Close enough.”

“You are selling yourself short.  And you’re not giving him enough credit.  You will never be happy if you keep trying to find a substitute for the real thing.”

What is this?  Relationship advice from the woman who has been married for exactly…” he looked at his watch, “90 minutes?”

“Fine.  Ignore my advice.  But I know I’m right.  Oh god, gotta run.  Carlotta is steaming her way over here.”

“Clarissa.”

“Oh whatever, Grimshaw.   She wants me to make her the spokesmodel for my brand. I don’t know what Harry sees in her,” she said softly over her shoulder as she hurried away to a group of friends and family to hide from Clarissa.

“No one does,” Nick answered, but she didn’t hear.

FIVE

“Calm down, Nicholas!  You said it yourself.  ‘Third time’s the charm’.”

Harry smiled at the groom fumbling with his bow tie.  Nick stood in front of the full length mirror, shirt untucked and trousers unbuttoned, grappling with the piece of silk.  Pausing again, he met Harry’s eyes in the mirror as he found another thing to panic about.

“Sam was subdued at the dinner last night.  He wouldn’t tell me what was wrong.  What if he’s got cold feet?  Everyone’s out there—Harry I don’t think I can take the humiliation of another failed marriage.  I’m a punchline now—even to myself.”

“Nick, it’s okay to have jitters before your wedding.  Sam’s probably just excited and nervous just like you.”

“I need another glass of wine,” Nick said and moved to the table across the room. 

“You might want to take it eas--”  Harry was interrupted by Nick’s yelp of pain as he stubbed his toe on a chair leg.

“Shit, that hurt!” he yelped, reaching down to rub the offended appendage.   “If I broke it, the shoes will never fit.  Wait!  My shoes!  Where are my shoes?”

“They’re right here,” Harry replied with a smirk.  Opening the box containing the shiny black oxfords he offered “Come here and tie your tie.  I’ll tie your shoes.”

Nick walked back to the mirror and Harry knelt down, slipping the patent leather on the proffered left foot and tying securely.  Maneuvering the right shoe on Harry grazed the stubbed toe and Nick howled out a protest.

“Hold still, it’s almost in there.   Come on now, push a little.”

The door burst open and Nick’s fiancé barged in.  He took in the sight before him, his brain jumping to a conclusion. 

“Sam! It’s bad luck to see each other before the ceremony,” Nick’s voice sounded strained.

“H-how could you?  On our wedding day?”  Sam’s face was suffusing with red.

“What?  What are you on about?”

“You know, you’ve called me his name at least a dozen times.”  Sam’s eyes were looking dangerously moist.

“What? Who?”

Harry rose slowly and moved to stand behind Nick’s right shoulder.

“Last night even.  You called me ‘Harry’.”

Nick stood frozen as the colour drained from his face.

“I came in to reassure myself that we were going to be okay and find him on his knees and your trousers undone!”

“Sam!  I was tying his--” Harry began but Sam cut him off.

“You shut up!  It’s always you!  He moans your name in his sleep.  He even called me ‘Harry’ when I was sucking him off.  You’ve ruined my life!”

Sam made a move towards Harry but Nick stepped between them.

“Harry’s done nothing wrong.  He’s just--”

“Shut up!  Shut up!  Shut up!  Ramon told me you were cheating with him but I didn’t believe him.  Now I see it with my own eyes.  It’s over!  How could you ever say ‘I do’ to me when you never stopped saying I did to him?”

“Sam--”  Nick reached for him.

“No!  I’m going back to Ramon!”

“But our guests!”

“You mean your guests Nick,” he said, then stifled a sob with his fist as he stumbled from the room.

Nick stood stiffly staring at the door while Sam’s wails echoed down the hall.  It was a while before he felt Harry’s hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Nick.  I didn’t mean to--”

“No.  It’s alright.  I knew it wasn’t going to work out.  I think that’s why I was so nervous.  I’m not in love with him.”

He hung his head as Harry squeezed his shoulder.  Nick reached up to pat his hand after a moment and took a deep breath.

“I guess I’d better go tell my guests that the wedding is off.  At least they’ll have the reception to look forward to.”

“Wait, Nick.  Don’t tell them.”

“What?  I can’t leave everyone just sitting there when they’ve surely heard him carrying on.  I’ll just tell them I’m a three time loser and we’ll move on to the dinner and the party.”

Nick headed for the door but Harry grabbed his arm.

“Was it true?  What he said?  About me?”

“C’mon Harold, let go.  I’ve got to—“

“Was it true, Nick?”

Nick steeled himself to look into Harry’s eyes, those green eyes that he loved so much.

“Yes,” he managed at last.

Harry searched his face, questioning then made a small nod.

“Good. Then marry me.”

“What?!”

“You heard me.  Marry me instead.  Today.  Right now.”

“Have you gone mad?”

“Do you know why I’ve never got married?  Because I didn’t love any of them.  Not one.  And I tried.”

Nick just stared at him.

“Do you know why I’ve never dated another man?” 

Harry paused for a reply but Nick was dumbstruck.

“Because you’re the only man for me.  Nicholas Peter Andrew Grimshaw, I love you.  I have loved you my whole life.  Will you marry me?”

Tears filled his eyes and his voice cracked when he answered.  “Yes, Harold, I will.”

“You know my name isn’t Harold, right?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

And he did.

At the first strains of the music, the small crowd turned to see Harry and Nick standing at the back of the room together.  As Shania sang ‘Still the One’, they walked hand in hand down the aisle, both men beaming.  They stopped to hug Anne and Gemma, both of whom were crying.  Just before he released her, Anne whispered to Nick “It’s about time.”  That was when his tears started. 

Next stop was Eileen and Jane and Andy, who hugged them both fiercely.  Eileen reached up to whisper to Harry “He’s always loved you Henry.  As have we all.”   

“Mum, his name’s---”

“Harry.  Yes dear, I know.  But he’ll always be Henry Stars to me.”

Harry bent down to kiss her on the cheek. 

They arrived at the end of the aisle and stood looking at each other as the song faded away.  The minister gave a speech and had them repeat traditional wedding vows. He pronounced them married, and then Nick turned to Harry.  He looked into those eyes, so green he could get lost in their depths.  Harry took Nick’s face gently in his hands and stared into his eyes. 

“I love you.  I am so proud to have married you at last.”  

And then he kissed him.  And then kissed him again.  And then again.  Nick was giddy when they finally pulled apart to applause from their guests.

[tired-college-student-writing]

Don’t make assumptions

Summary: The egos have a secret. How long can they keep it from the humans that work with them?

There are many unspoken runs of the egos. Never get in the middle of an argument between Wilford and Dark. Never grab a gun from Wilford’s hands. Underwear, at the bare minimum, must be worn in the communal areas. Don’t talk to Doc before he’s had his coffee if you value your spleen. Don’t question where Bim vanishes the bodies to. Protect the humans that are in the know with your life.

More were added as the Iplier roster grew, as the Septics and Sanders became more like friends and less like just being they knew were out there. But the first eight egos that bore the name Iplier had one rule that there was one rule that needed to be followed above everything else. 

A rule that caused them to hid everything, to put up masks, to play as if everything was alright even as they fell apart at the seams. 

The Doctor was the first to feel the persistent tingle, starting at his fingertips and toes but steadily moving upwards day by day. Dropping his scalpel with a harsh gasp, he could do nothing but watch as his fingers flickered in between existence and nothingness, finally admitting to himself what was happening. If the humans noticed him yelling at the nurse more and more as the days went on they didn’t say anything, but the egos knew. They saw how fixed his smile had become. Yandere helped out where he could, cleaning up blood and knowing what could be deadly was practically his job after all.

Bim was next, accidentally turning all the props on the stage into balloons when his hand first phased through the podium in front of him.  He told the others in hushed tones but kept smiling as brightly as ever when in view of the humans that he loved so much. The egos knew though. His heart beating erratically as he gazed down at his flickering fingers, losing control over his magic with increased regularity even as he grew weaker. He didn’t complain when Wilford let him do less and less around the studio since it was straining his body just to tie his tie and get out of his room every day.  

King felt the pull next and could do nothing to stop it. He stayed inside more, gazing out at his subjects with sadness and fear. Ethan and Mark noticed and asked him why he wasn’t climbing and jumping around the trees. The monarch had thought of this though, wrapping his hands in bandages, and spinning a tale of how the Doc was mad at him for getting hurt so much so he had to heal naturally this time. They bought the excuse, deciding to hang out with him as he ‘recovered’. The laughter between them was more strained than before, but only the egos noticed.

Host was the best at hiding the fact that his limbs were flicking away hidden from the humans around them. If the other egos weren’t paying attention they’d probably assume he was as fine as he appeared, but the signs were there. Hands lacking the ink that normally clung to them, the tea sloshing harshly in the cup as if he dropped it, staying in the main areas of the house more. If he wanted to be around those he saw as dear now, none of the egos could blame him. Dark never strayed far from the man these days, pulling out the chessboard for a game or a piece of music he wanted the Host to critique as justification.

Google went about his days normally, sputtering and skipping over words more frequently, but not stopping in his duty to keep the house running smoothly. Even as tools started phasing through his fingers, he refused to stop. The frustration made his core, spark, and glitch, threatening to crash at any time. Kathryn and Tyler stopped him on occasion to ask if he needed help, and Amy asked him to take breaks so to not overwork himself, but they didn’t know the true reason behind his struggle so he ignored them, lying when asked if he was doing alright.  

Without saying it aloud, they all knew they wouldn’t tell the human team that they were fading. To let them in on the fact that their heads grew fuzzy with fear as the flickers lasted longer and longer, feeling as if skin was slowly being stripped from their limbs as the fading moved further over their bodies, was not an option to them. No need to force something that Mark might not want after all, and no need to worry their friends.

Dark, Wilford, and Yandere felt pain eating at their cores, but kept with their mouths closed, knowing they’d wish for this to be kept quiet if they themselves were the ones fading. Dark’s mind flashed back to the first time he and Wilford started flickering out of existence, the pain causing them to go mad. Back then none of the three understood one another, fear and tensions running high between the two egos and their creator. He remembered how he threatened Mark to add more of his stupid jump scares and idiocy into the videos, as the pain became more unbearable by the second. How he was forced to hold a crazed Wilford back until his arms flicked to far out of existence for him to do so, but that was fine as Wilford’s body lost its tangibility as well. The fear and terror in that gripped him and Wilford as Mark weighed his options before ultimately saving them from oblivion.

None of them spoke of the event again, but it left a bitter taste in all their mouths and eventually lead to them trying to understand each other more. It also leads to the egos realizing something important, a fact that bothered them and gave more than a few sleepless nights to those who thought about it.  

But their rule came before everything, even their health and wellbeing. 

Never, under any circumstance, Let Mark know when they were fading. 

It stemmed from the fact that they would never force Mark’s hand. The fact that they’d rather die silently then force their creator to do something he didn’t want to do. Even worse, no matter how much pain fading causes, nothing hurts worse than seeing Mark look at them in indecision on whether he should save them or not.

So the rule went into place, but it didn’t stop the questions spinning in their brains. 

Was this what it meant to be a Tulpa? Unknowingly wanting to please their creator even when a normal being wouldn’t care? When they allowed themselves to suffer so one man didn’t have to? They didn’t know, and more then one of them wondered if they actually wanted to know as they gazed down at their flickering forms.

Mark gazed over at where King, Ethan, Bim, and Kathryn sat in the main room over the top of his laptop. Something was off with all the egos recently, but he couldn’t tell what. Less damage was done to the building as, since December, fewer antics disturbed his work and overall it was growing too quiet in the recent months. It felt familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. A storm was brewing within the house and he was just waiting for the cloud break at this point. HIs eyes went to flicker down to his editing again when he noticed something. As the quartet in the corner laughed, Bim’s face became see-through for a split second. It was so quick he almost could pass it off as a trick of the light, but everything clicked into place. He scratched at the scars he had been given last time he had witnessed such and Wilford had gone mad with pain, not realizing what he was doing, Dark forced to hold him back barking at him to add more content of them.

Before he registered moving, he was across the room, hand’s twisted in the game show’s host suit jacket.

“What the hell? Mark?” Ethan shouted as Kathryn moved to shove him back. King stopped her, eyes boring into Mark with a blank expression. Bim did nothing, but meet Mark’s eyes with a pained and sheepish smile.

“How long?” His voice was low and slightly choked making the two egos grimace as the humans fell quiet.

“Around Christmas,” Mark sucked in a harsh breath looking like he was punched in the gut.

“This has been going on for four months,?” Mark’s tone was low as Bim nodded, even though he knew it wasn’t a question, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We didn’t want to worry you,” His eyes snapped to the King, eyes wide as he slapped a hand over his mouth, smearing almond butter over his hand, not meaning to have spoken. His eyes locked on the bandages wrapped around his hands, remembering the excuse behind them. How could he have been so blind?

“Conference room. Now,” His order was laced with mindless anger and venom unlike they had ever heard before. He shoved away from Bim, marching over to the intercom in the room that was linked to the PA system throughout the house.

“All of my egos need to report to the conference room, now. If you’re not there within the next five minutes, I don’t care what your excuse is, I will hunt you down myself and drag you there by your hair,” The growled command echoed throughout the building, sounding more like a certain demon than the fun-loving youtuber, and by the time it was done, he was alone in the room with Ethan and Kat staring at him in fear and confusion.

“What’s going on?” Kat asked slowly, “What did Bim and the others do?” Mark couldn’t stop his shoulders from trembling, from anger or pain he wasn’t sure.

“Come to the conference room and I’ll explain,” He responded. When they nodded they left the room, seeing Tyler and Amy ahead of them, pestering Yandere and Doc for answers.

“What do you mean nothing’s wrong?” Tyler snapped, “Mark doesn’t just like this for no reason,”

“Oh, there’s a reason. And whoever said it was nothing is getting knocked out” Mark called, not stopping his hurried walk as they turned around to face him. He pushed past even as the others tried to question him.

“I’ll explain in the Conference room,” He snapped, shrugging off Amy’s concerned hand.  The egos silently followed him, leaving the humans to catch up. By the time they got there, everyone else was seated and waiting, not even the Host’s normal narrating breaking the silence. Bim waved his hand, summoning more chairs for the team to sit around the table. Mark stood at his place in the middle of the table eyes burning as he looked at each of the egos one by one.

“Show of hands: How many of you are affected?” The egos gazed around at each other before slowly Bim, King, Doc, Google, and Host raised their hands. Mark’s knees buckled and he collapsed into his chair, hands covering his face, a pained sob ripping through his throat. No one says anything, even as the humans started on in confusion and panic. Slowly he pulled his face up and took a deep breath.

“When did it start?” He points at Doctor first.

“December 8th at 7:30 was when I noticed the symptoms for the first time.” 

His finger moved to King, “Sometime around New Year’s.” 

 Google spoke before Mark’s eyes moved to him, “Logs started reporting problems in Late February.”

“Mark moves his hand to point at the Host and the Host tells him honestly that he felt the first signs late at night in the days leading up to Valentine’s Day”  

“And Bim told me earlier that his started around Christmas. Why didn’t you guys tell me?” Silence feel over the room.

“Uh, Mark?” Kathryn asked, raising her hand, “Care to explain what exactly is happening?” His shoulders pulled back as he glared at all of the egos around him, not looking over at the humans.

“So who wants to tell them what’s going on?” He spat, voice almost mocking, none of them meeting his eyes, “Who wants to explain how you kept the fact over half of you are dying from us for months?” The egos flinched but kept their eyes on the table. Not even Dark dared to look up, form cracking under the intensity of Mark’s words.

“Woah, Woah!” Ethan squawked, eyes flashing around the room, waiting for someone to tell him it was all just a joke, “What do you mean dying?!” Amy turned to the Doctor next to her, eyes wide with concern, only to cover her mouth with her hand as he turned away, shame floating off of him.

“Guys?” Tyler asked, trying to place a hand on Bim’s shoulder only for it to phase through him, making the tall man gasp in shock. Kat could do nothing but pale as she took in the stoic faces around the room.

“Explain,” Her demand was shaky, almost pleading. Dark broke the silence.

“It’s called Fading,” All eyes turned to him, as he finally lifted his head, eyes pitch black as his mouth twisted into a grimace, “When an ego is forgotten they fade away into nothingness, but the process takes a long time,”

“Not to mention it’s painful,” Wilford’s voice was almost unrecognizable when he piped in, his normal slurring drawl fading almost completely. He didn’t lift his eyes as he gave a hollow laugh, “It’s just a tingle in your arms and legs at first, like they fell asleep, but then it doesn’t go away. It just gets worse and worse until you want to just kill yourself to take away the pain, but you can’t even do that because your body starts going more and more intangible as you slip between his reality and the void.” 

Yan laid a hand on Wilford’s shoulders, soothing the shaking man, and pulling his hands away from where they pulled at his hair. As he spoke it felt like the air was slowly being sucked out of the room, the humans going deathly pale. Doc looked at them concerned.

“Are you all alright?” He asked, only to be met with a sharp glare from Amy, wincing at the tears gathering in her eyes.

“Are we alright?” She asked breathlessly, “You’re the one that just admitted to living with chronic pain that’s so bad suicide sounds like an answer for four months and you’re asking us if we’re alright?” Bim shrugged helplessly, scrunched in on himself.

“We didn’t want to worry you guys,” He mumbled which a few of the egos made noises of agreement. Kathryn slammed her hands against the table, tears sliding down her face.

“Worry us? You guys are dying!” Her words echoed around the room, even though she only spoke at a whisper, “Our friends are dying. Of course, we’re upset and horrified and worried and panicking,”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” Mark snapped at all of them, eyes misting over slightly. Dark let out a hollow cruel laugh, moving away from a calmer Wilford.

“It’s not like they wanted to die, Fischbach,” His form was sparking and creaking dangerously, his ring growing louder by the second, “We couldn’t bother you with this. We couldn’t force you to do something about it,”

“What the hell do you mean?”

Google broke in, tone sounding more deadpan than ever before.

“Even when it goes against logic, for some reason us Egos can not force you to do anything to help us. It hurts more then what we are facing now, to make you do something with your channel just to benefit ourselves. Whether this is simply because of what we are, or if this problem stems from your own personality, or another reason entirely is unknown,”  He explained. Mark stared at all of them mouth hanging open. 

Wilford wearily looked up finally, “Not to mention what happened last time,” 

Wilford, Dark, and Mark shared a look filled of shared pain.

“It was different back then,” Mark told them, “Last time I was asked to save two psychos with my face that mentally tortured me on a weekly basis to the point I almost quit YouTube altogether. This time I’m being asked to save my family that happens to hold multiple psychos with my face that drive me up a wall, but I wouldn’t want it any other way,” The egos looked up at him in shock, never hearing him give a name to their relationship before. Family? Was that what they were?

“Like we’d give you any other choice,” Tyler joked slightly, “You’re not the only one that would claim these guys as family,” Mark smiled slightly as the other egos eyes snapped to the four humans that were all nodding in agreement.

“Though He’d have the easiest time convincing people of blood relations,” Amy added her two cents in. Ethan laughed slightly, turning to Mark.

“How do we help?”

“We need to get all of these guys into a video. Fading is caused by the fans forgetting them, giving them more content with them present will stabilize them.” Amy’s eyes sparkled as she smiled.

“Markiplier TV!” She gasped, “We didn’t know how to end it, but… What if we act like it was a plan the egos had to take over the channel?” Mark and the egos perked up. The ongoing joke of the egos planning to take over Mark’s channel had existed for years. They all had agendas and plans, but Mark’s actual channel was left out of all of them.

“That could work,” He said, brain already summoning ideas for it, “We can add some segments with a couple of you guys too, to give it an extra boost,” Wilford smiled widely and snapped his fingers, summoning the teams' Laptops to them. Mark connected his to the TV at the front of the room.

“Alright let’s brainstorm and figure out what we’re doing with this,”  He said, a bright reassuring smile appearing on his face. Identical faces mirrored his, feeling more hopeful than they had in a long time.

Perhaps the rules weren’t as set in stone as they thought. 

Perhaps they didn’t need to suffer alone. 

Perhaps...

Perhaps they could learn to trust the humans after all. 

[selenecrawford]

Selene Crawford: Baba Yaga, The Dragon , The Seamstress

Warning: Cursing, gun violence and car violence (don't worry you will see)

Tobias took a stroll slowly around the place, the stores, the people, the sound of trading. Nothing had changed much. He could still see him and Selene running around trying to escape their lessons with Ian on their backs cursing worse than a sailor. Time sure does not show mercy on people. It was almost ten years since the time he had to choose between duty, family and love. Of course his loyalty reside on Ian his only family. Selene on the other hand never thought on place loyalties. She was too pure for that. For her loyalty was an entire different affair. Escaping her fate, Tobias smirked at the memory. Always the dreamer Selene talked about being a productive member of society. Never thought that she was damaged, that society didn't have use for a being like her. People loved her and cared for her. Anywhere she went, people gravitated around her. How many times old people confused her with workers at the supermarket asking for where they could find certain product.

Certain memories hurt more than others yet, he never doubt that Selene will be a great woman. Unfortunately, neither luck or destiny was not on her side, she was chosen to be part of the shadows. To be one of the Grim reapers children, and yet her light never faded. Too bad her time was over. It was now her time to face the reapers wrath for betraying the code, for betraying the hand that feed her, for betraying him.

Passing by the stores he finally reached the end of the road. The sea, was before him, mysterious yet so intoxicating beautiful. Tobias, never wanted to come back he was content traveling the world, but his fate was already written. He will follow his path already chose for him. Never showing weakness, never letting emotions take the best of him. He learned his lessons very well and always stick to them. Ever since pledge his life to the clan, Tobias never lacked anything. Not money, nor luxury, not women. Love was ephemeral, yet at some point he missed it, well maybe sometimes.  A sad smile draw on his lips. Even that was already written for him. Love a wonderful thing he used to crave, until interferes with your path. Turning around he left a rose lying on the ground. It was enough, the time for memories was over now it was back to business. Its time the student who now became the teacher, start his lessons. To practice all that learned in order to fulfill his mission in life. A child of Baba Yaga, he became Ankou the reaper, which what he is right now.

Mai took Nobunaga, Hideyoshi and Kenshin with her to her warehouse. Her base of operations which was in a secluded part outside the city. The trip to the warehouse was done in silence, but from time to time Nobunaga side glance at Mai while she was at the driving. A man of commanding words, he felt at lost for the first time in many years. Mai was a precious petite woman and he was attracted to her. Shaking his head Nobunaga tried to clear his mind up.

“Something wrong, Sir?”

“No, Hideyoshi, just clearing my mind. Things are just unclear as ever.” said Nobunaga. (Damn it, this is no time to think about her).

“Selene, always told me you were a strict boss , but I can see there is more than meets the eye.” Mai's smile was like a bright ray of sunshine.

“So, How you know Selene?” Kenshin went direct to the point while observing Nobunaga.

“We went to high school together, after that we lost contact until we bump into each other at the docks. I had a small store my dream of making a business as a fashion designer were starting. One day, Selene got hurt, and while I was taking care of her and idea of making a bulletproof clothes was born. After selling the first suit I haven't look back. Selene refused to take credit with me. For her it was more important that I managed to get out of the docks. She had always been there. Now is my turn to help. She is just a wonderful girl. She deserves to be happy.” Mai's explanation was heartfelt full of love for her friend.

“Well we arrived. Now don't touch anything if you don't want to loose an extremity that is.” her a matter of fact tone, left no room for jokes.

The trio look at each other and followed Mai inside the warehouse. Inside the place was empty, once they cross the distance of two buildings they entered a cargo elevator and went down. The silence was deafening and yet they didn't dare to break it. In a movement that although lasted 10 minutes for them it seemed longer they finally reached their lower level. The office was completely modern technology Several wall monitors showed the surroundings of the surface around the warehouse. As well as around the docks.

“Selene wanted to keep an eye on the docks. Although she never voice it out loud she never trusted Ian McCloud. And she was right.” turn her view to one of the monitors Tobias can be seeing walking around the docks.

“Who is that?” asked Hideyoshi.

“Ankou a children of Baba Yaga.” Lancelot's voice interrupted the peace of the room. With him Kincaid who approached the quartet with grim faces. “Ian is the one behind us. He is bitter that Selene never adapted to us. The Clan of Baba Yaga, a group who was thought dead long ago, but we had to found out like this that is not.” said Kincaid with a regretful voice.

“Apparently, Selene and Tobias McCloud were selected a the new generation to revive the clan, with the setback that Selene never intended to be an assassin.” Lancelot's voice was full of regrets.

“We are here to help. I know Selene is holding up until we get her.” Kincaid added in a reassuring tone.

Mai went to the wall opposite them and open it up. A room full of suits were available as well as many types of guns, rifles and swords.

“Gentlemen have fun. Take as much as you want. It's on the house. As long as you can get Selene back safe and sound.” Mai signed at the display and Nobunaga gave her an appreciative calculated smile.

“What makes you think I take orders from no one?”

“Oh but this is not an order Mr. Oda, this is plea from a desperate woman who knows who you really are.” Mai's tone challenged Nobunaga's arrogance. She got him there. Which means that Mai was a woman to not take lightly.

“ Well then let's see what you got for us.” concede Nobunaga.

“About damn time.” said Kenshin who already was looking at the clothes.

“I already arrange for Masamune to be transfer here to keep him safe. As well as Mitsurani and the others.” this time Lancelot added while finishing a text message.

“Then lets wait for the other to get a plan. Knowing Ian he might as well will led us to a trap as soon as he can.”

Masamune was running among the fog, his labored breath made him stop. He tried calling Selene but no voice went out of his mouth. Taking a break Masamune took time to recover, feeling anxious due to his surroundings he heard footsteps approaching him. Masamune went looking for his gun but he was unarmed. Making an effort he closed his hands at his sides into fists. The fog started to cleared and soon he recognized the silhouette walking towards him.

“Father?” asked a startled Masamune.

“Son, how are you? It's been a while.” the man smile softly at the sight of his son.

“But you...?”

“I know I'm dead. But there are times when even death cannot detain a father from helping his son.” posing a hand on Masamune's shoulder he started to recover his breathing and calm himself down.

“We must keep walking there is something we need to talk. Tell me how things are for you?”

Both started walking while the fog was dispersing at their path. Masamune felt at ease with his father, and confided in him his love for Selene. His fear of losing her and how he let her being taken from him.

“I don't know what to do father.” his voice was lost defeated.

“You never had doubted yourself Masamune, for you it has always been walking forward. Never dared to second guess yourself, why now?” Terumune Date asked his son with raised eyebrows.

“I don't know, I guess I don't want to loose her the same way I lost you.” Masamune looked at his father with regret. Taking his life in order to save the rest of the family was one of the worst decisions Masamune had to take in his life.

“You did the honorable thing son. It was not easy but you did. I never blamed you for that. If you love this woman, be there for her, she needs you now.”

“How?” Masamune was still unconvinced that he could help Selene.

“Your heart, my son, let your heart will guide you.” with this Terumune Date continued to walk and disappeared.

Closing his eye Masamune put his hand on his chest and started to hear Selene's voice calling him.

“Masamune.” her sounded sweet and sad, a plea that went answered.

As he had conjured her imagine, scenes from the past months started a parade in his mind. Her smile, her tears, her love, her embarrassment. All the faces and reactions that he loved and adored. His heart, started beating with a renew purpose and opening his eye he looked to the light with a new goal. As he walked by the light became engulf by it until he finally opened his eye and took around.

Ieyasu was next to him when he saw Masamune opening his eyes.

“Welcome back Masamune. How are you feeling?”

“I could be better, but the description is being kicked on the chest by a mule. Ouch.”

“Easy, easy.” Ieyasu leveled the bed until he was sited. “Fortune was with you this time. If you haven't been wearing that suit you will be dead by now.” after that he showed Masamune the jacket.

Masamune touch the fabric softly remembering Selene's face when she gave it to him.

“Any news about,...her, about Selene?” it was hard telling her name but he needed to keep his wits together.

“Not yet, but we need to move you out of danger just in case. I'm putting you an anti-inflammatory and a pain killer. It won't knock you out but at least you will move.” said Ieyasu.

With the Help of Ieyasu and Mitsurani Masamune got dressed and were on his way when a group of motorcycles came to their encounter.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me. Mitsurani get the car. And you better take it easy.” said Ieyasu to Masamune.

The group started shooting as soon as they spotted Ieyasu and Masamune. Without any weapons they were easy target. The bullets were dangerously inching near until the roar of the RTR approaching them silenced the rain of bullets. Mitsurani was coming in reverse at 5 meters from them, spinning the car in a 180 degrees, drift to be in between Masamune and Ieyasu.

“Getting in.” he shouted while shooting back in order to give Masamune and Ieyasu time to get in the car.

“Go, go, go” shouted Ieyasu once they were inside.

Without losing time Mitsurani push the pedal and they went away.

Their attackers went on the pursuit, and started following and gaining distance.

“Do you have any more guns?” asked Ieyasu trying to look for one.

“Yeah on the back of the car.” said Masamune with a pained expression.

“Great just great, what the fuck?, They are gaining distance, how are we supposed to loose them?” said Ieyasu.

Just in that moment one motorcycle came next to Ieyasu ready to shoot when a car on the opposite side of the road smashed the motorcycle and the driver with it. The car a  1969 Ford Mustang Boss 429 in red with black racing strips gave a turn around taking in one sweep at least 3 other motorcycles; then began to follow them. Only two motorcycles remained and they decided to abandoned the pursuit and returned to base. Once alone the car accelerated and get to the side.

“You guys OK?” it was Shingen with Yuki and Sasuke.

“Yeah, thanks for the save.” said Mitsurani.

“We got a call follow us.” with this the cars went to Mai's warehouse.

“Welcome guys, is everything OK?” Mai was a bit anxious at the look of bullet holes on the RTR.

“Whoever it was wanted us dead.” responded Mitsurani.

“No fucking kidding Captain obvious.” Ieyasu was pissed off.

“At least we are OK. What's the plan?” asked Shingen trying to sound nonchalant about it.

“We will hit them before they hit us again.”

Everyone turned around to see Nobunaga, Hideyoshi and Kenshin dress to perfection on black suits and armed to the teeth.

@datemasamunemaiwaifu @elievalentine @unstoppablelinda @colivara @epicdragonlady @yeshasays @xathia-89 @blue-bean-exe @kimi00twin @pirateprincessyuki @sengokuotaku82 @cailannuesugi @notsafefortum-blr @jennacat84 @masa-little-kitten @kouei116 @la-piperina @shouta-bakugou

Notes: sorry for any mistake I will check it as soon as I get some rest. Thank you.