#to facilitate that but like. she’ll be fine

[bestworstcase]

So having already moved past the idea of Yang as a Maiden - I do suspect the other reason people jump to that conclusion is people getting Raven's trajectory wrong. Yang as Maiden is the obvious conclusion if you think that Raven is going to come back to save Yang and die for it. Which... look, I can see Raven getting badly hurt. But dying - nah. The STRQ team and the Rose-Xiao Long household is not getting any outs from the most awkward family conversation ever. (Though your points about Raven actually being very difficult to kill does mean that the show can have the Spring Maiden get Yang out of a really tight spot without killing Raven or sacrificing tension) But it does feel like the idea has bit at least in some respects of the fandom that way to balance Raven being a coward/bandit and the setup for the untested "Everyone Only Gets One (Save)" rule is for Raven to come in and die for it.

mhm

i think something that is broadly true of this fandom is a general struggle to conceptualize what the narrative can meaningfully do with old-guard characters that isn’t… killing them off. qrow gets this a lot too, he’s nominally ruby’s mentor but she’s outgrown that relationship and is now on a level with him and there’s a persistent belief that it’s only a matter of time before his time is up. but it isn’t just him, i’ve also seen this attitude toward pietro, for example. (including one. memorable post that outright expressed surprise that pietro and maria survived v8 on the grounds that without penny the op thought it was pointless for the narrative to keep them around, because what would they even be doing in vacuo. which is absurd!)

and then raven in particular is a difficult character – fandoms always have a hard time with performative/masking behaviors, rwby is no different, although i do think the specific way rwby utilizes archetype and allusion makes it worse because fandom is also bad at paying attention – on top of also being, in v5, an antagonistic character to yang.

(i hesitate to describe her role as villainous, because raven’s response to getting backed into a corner was to neatly sabotage salem’s operation; she didn’t help salem under duress, she acted as a double agent on behalf of team oz under duress, and what she did wrong was mainly not communicate this to them. as ever raven is very brave about everything that isn’t having a slightly difficult conversation with someone she cares about. lol)

the point being, raven gets this general difficulty this fandom has with the old guard stacked on top of 1. being a difficult character (as a woman lmao) so a lot of people just don’t like her very much, and 2. being an antagonistic (or outright villainous) character depending on whether one takes raven “joining” salem at face value or not. so a fair amount of “speculation” that raven will die is either character hate in the guise of theory, and i think there is a large share of raven-will-die-saving-yang theories that boil down to redemption-by-heroic-sacrifice thinking.

what’s funny about that, aside from the obvious factor of raven being in vacuo now (and the most probable reason for her to only be in the last section of the epilogue being that she arrived on the refugee ship from vale and the likeliest answer there being that after haven she went to loop glynda in and help out because she knew salem would be coming back for the crown sooner or later), is how pragmatic she is and how desperately in need the heroes are right now of pragmatists – real pragmatists, not “leave mantle to die��-ish cowardice masquerading as pragmatism.

like. raven has been the leader of what appears to be a quite large encampment of bandits for more than a decade now, right, and to all appearances she’s done a great job – they respect her, trust her to have their backs, morale seems high, they’re well-supplied (by non-huntsman standards) and well-provisioned, they’re disciplined enough to erect fairly impressive temporary fortifications surrounding their camps – all of this suggests that raven is skilled at managing problems of scarcity, attrition, morale, grimm predation etc under fairly harsh conditions.

those problems are much larger in vacuo and the branwen subsistence strategy of raiding settlements is off the table, but – raven’s experience managing these sort of challenges in the animan wilderness is invaluable here! (especially if she brought all her bandits with her, because that’s a small militia that can whip up very nice ad hoc fortifications in an hour or two, given materials to work with, and two maidens solves the “no trees in the desert” problem).

and raven is also – demonstrably – someone capable of being very cunning, and turning lose/lose situations to her advantage even under intense pressure. salem’s people strolled into her camp like they owned the place, and raven took a deep breath, went “okay, we planned for this,” and played them like a fiddle! she is the reason salem’s infiltration of haven failed, and had everything gone according to raven’s plan, cinder would have died that night with omen in her back.

without the spring maiden, they’re all going to die. not because of her magical power, but because of who raven is. they need someone who can think and plan like this. they need someone who can evaluate an impossible situation and make tough choices like “i want my brother dead” – given the choice between capitulating or letting her people get massacred, raven bet on qrow not being stupid enough to walk unarmed into an obvious trap without backup, and tricked cinder into letting her tiny infiltration force be outnumbered almost two-to-one by highly trained combatants.

raven is what ironwood thought he was.

and she’s decided to join the coalition at a critical moment when they have zero good, easy choices ahead of them.

it would be absurd and baffling for the story to kill off raven at this point – this is Her Moment! and she and yang get to have their uncomfortable, painful, incredibly fraught reunion after haven in a time where raven has plainly earned back the full trust of the vacuo coalition, in all likelihood in large part by showing the fuck up at exactly the right moment her skillset and perspective were most helpful. which creates a really juicy tension for the personal relationship she has to now build with yang!

[luveline]

could I maybe request some more coworker james, maybe reader telling james about something she’s upset about? love you and your writing, hope you’re okay my love!! :)

thank you for requesting <3 fem, 1k

Today, James has moved your mug to the fridge. He laughs as he does it, while Sirius tuts and drinks a quick cup of tea by the sink. “You’re gonna bully her out of the job,” Sirius says. 

“This isn’t bullying. This is hazing. Light hazing. If she asks me where it is I’ll tell her, but she’ll find it.” He puts it on top of his lunch, practically begging for retaliation. 

You arrive in a fluster that morning, a few minutes late but no less pretty than usual. It’s irksome but nothing he feels the need to comment on, smiling to himself as you sit. Your desk knocks against his and sends his little Smiski figurine tumbling. 

“Sorry,” you say, reaching over to pick him up. You’re gentle putting him back on James' outgoings, your perfume floating his way. “Poor Smiski.” 

“I’m sure he’ll recover. What’s with the late start, princess?” 

You wrinkle your nose. “Don’t be a chauvinist.” 

“That’s ridiculous.” He can’t help grinning at you. James doesn’t believe that you genuinely think he’s a chauvinist, and so he doesn’t mind continuing to poke at you. “I hardly think calling you princess demonstrates any belief that I’m better than you. I am better than you.” He bites. “What’s with the hair?” 

You’ve had your hair done. It looks gorgeous and like it took half a day, but he doesn’t mention that. 

“I have to go with Sirius today to talk to Enlighten limited.” 

“Why would you have to do that?” 

“Sirius says I’m the administrator’s type.” 

“And he’s using you as bait?” James asks incredulously. 

You turn the Smiski so he’s facing James’ monitor. “He said I shall be greatly rewarded.” You’ve had your nails done, their beds shiny with lacquer, your cuticles finely manicured. 

You put your bag under your desk. Your hands shift in your lap. 

James watches in bridled horror when you leave. To the outward observer he doesn’t care because he shouldn’t, but he can’t believe it when you go —you’re a beautiful girl and he’s awful inside, he hates that you’re pretty, he hates that you’ve had your hair done to go see somebody, he sort of hates that Sirius is using you like a poster girl to facilitate business. You’re a water safety company. What is wrong with him? What’s wrong with James?

��She looked nice, didn’t she?” Remus asks. 

James ignores him diligently. He tries to ignore the entire world for a few hours, completing three times as much work as he usually would and dedicatedly avoiding the thought of your hands while he does it. 

You didn’t even notice that he moved your mug. How embarrassing is that? James thinks he might dig a hole and throw himself in it before you get back. 

Later, you return. You’re both with weak smiles as you sit down and Sirius stands behind Remus. 

“Did it go okay?” Remus asks, tipping his head back. 

Sirius frowns but gives his boyfriend a nice kiss on the cheek anyways. “I don’t think they’re gonna choose us this time. It’s fine. Now come with me so I can make you some tea, handsome.” 

You tuck your chair in as they go. 

“Didn’t go well?” James asks you. 

You shake your head. For a moment you stare at your keyboard, and then you turn to him with a wobbly smile. “I think I really messed it up for him, James.” 

“How would you do that?” 

“I tried to be conversational, you know. Sirius is so chatty. But I kept saying the wrong things. I asked him about his daughter. He had all these photos on the wall, but she died last June. Just decimated the mood.” Your brow wrinkles. You cover your frown with two fingers. “Sirius wasn’t mad.” 

“He wouldn’t be mad at you for a shit business meeting, he’s not like that. I don’t think anyone can blame you for that.” 

You pause again. “You’re sure?” 

You’d been expecting a joke, it seems. James had meant to make fun of you, but your honesty threw him off. He struggles to say anything else, the two of you looking at one another in mutual surprise, until insecurity flashes in your eyes and you peel back. 

James turns his head to his spreadsheet, though his eyes remain on you. 

“I know he’s not mad at me, but he should be. He took me with him to help and I…” You rub your lips together, what little that’s left of your lipgloss spreading thin. “I really thought I could do it.” 

“You can. If poaching clients were hard, Sirius wouldn’t have a job.” He feels bad for diminishing Sirius’ efforts, joke or not, and he softens his tone. “What makes you think you can’t do it? Because you made a mistake? You couldn’t have known it was a sore subject.” 

“I feel silly. I felt so stupid sitting in his office, I looked like an idiot.” 

“No, you didn’t.” James bites the inside of his lip to stop from saying anything ridiculous, but his eyes stray. He looks at your eyes, your soft cheek, the curve of your neck and your hair and your lips, rubbed and bitten enough that your lipgloss is almost completely gone. You didn’t look stupid. You never…

James is in deep shit, it seems. You’re so pretty. 

For a moment, he can’t remember why he doesn’t like you. 

You falter under his gaze. “I guess I’m being childish, worrying,” you say tightly. 

“You’re not being childish.” James clears his throat, sits a bit straighter. “It’s okay to worry about stuff when it’s gone wrong, but I can go and ask Sirius right now if he thinks any of that was your fault and I know he’d say no. You tried your best,” —his hand slides across the desk, nowhere near touching you but an unconscious response— “okay?” 

“I tried my best,” you say softly. 

“And you looked scrumptious.” You snort. “But it’s back to business now, cool? You can’t mooch an entire day doing nothing, I need you to check off some of these spreadsheets for me, I’m missing a ton of laboratory numbers.” 

You rush to do as he’s said, and that’s that, the charged air between you simmers and dies. 

“James,” you say, with dawning horror, “how many of these did you do?” 

“I’m oh so productive when you’re not here to irritate me, apparently.” 

[fruitbasketball]

Why have your best player play off ball i don’t get it

i’m hella confused at this too but i have a couple thoughts

1. wbk that chen was probably going to end up a husky, and considering her position at princeton, this was going to be the lineup. i’m frustrated at this because to me, chen is a scoring pg before she’s a facilitator (just looking at her atr), which is fine! but when our best scorer is off ball… it raises some concerns

2. geno’s plan IS to have paige be a more aggressive scorer. if i have one critique of her game, it’s that she deadass just isn’t assertive enough sometimes on that end of the court. when she isn’t worried about facilitating, she has more room to do that.

3. obviously, the tendency is that the player with the best court vision and the highest basketball iq is at the 1. it’s how they’ve always done it, it makes sense. but the fact that paige is so cerebral with her play is not just limited to her spot at the 1, yfm? like her court vision has shown tremendously in her defensive game this year, and her ability to facilitate/communicate even from her spot at the 4 is astounding. even if she is not RUNNING the floor, trust that paige will impact everything that is going on, regardless of whether or not the ball is in her hands

4. i do not think geno planned to play paige as a point guard ever again in her college career. i think he feels that it limits her game, and i think he’s right about that.

5. it’s really, REALLY not about what paige CAN do, it’s about what other people can’t. i know i’ve said this a million fucking times, but you put paige at any position in the floor and you will NEVER be at a disadvantage. put her at the 5 - she’s boxing out kamilla fucking cardoso. i’m so deadass rn. was nika a better pg than paige? fuck no. was paige a better pf than every other option on the team? yes. obviously with sarah available and even aubrey/yanna? back healthy, she’ll be contributing more from the 3. but look at the options available. is chen a better pg than paige? no fucking shot. but can paige play the 3 better than her? ashlynn? azzi? carol? q? kk? it’s not even a fucking competition.

[hournites]

for the best friends to lovers prompt- "did that kiss mean anything to you"

hope you are doing well!! i love your writing 🫶🏻

Soundless Spin

“You start.” 

Doja Cat blasted through Cindy’s speakers, fancy chandeliers overhead shaking from the noise as Rick eyed the offensive Bud Light in front of him. It pained him that Blue Valley, Nebraska couldn’t shake the 20th century out of its roots–Somehow, even amidst 2020 billboard charts, Jackbox games, and Tiktok trends, the only activity collectively agreed upon tonight was spin the bottle. 

“Do I have to?” 

“Yes,” said Cindy, already bored at how long he was taking. Why was she facilitating this nonsense–she hates half of the school. That said, Rick also didn’t understand how they scored invites to her party. Or why the girls wanted to go. They might have not been at each other’s throats anymore with the ISA discontinued, but it wasn’t exactly like they were close friends. Since the JSA recovered the true Sylvester’s pickle brain, Rick stopped applying logic in his life when he didn’t need to. Crowded between drunk teens sat in a seance approved circle, everyone waited on Rick to start the game he had assumed was a joke. 

“No, you don’t have to,” said Beth reassuringly from across the room, though Rick suspected the second it was her time she’ll nope out. She looked around the group of classmates, sober as a judge. “Please remember that kissing should always be consensual!” 

Cindy rolled her eyes. “It's not that serious, Dr. Chapel Jr.” She shrugged in that nonchalant way before she stirred the pot. “Rick might land on Cameron, for all we know.”

Yolanda facepalmed. “We’re supposed to be encouraging Rick, not giving him the ick.” 

Cameron shot Yolanda an icy look. She raised a brow in retaliation.  “I said what I said.”

Courtney, nestled beside him, placed an ineffective hand on his knee. To Rick, she chanted, “C’mon! Spin, spin, spin, spin!” 

Everyone joined in. 

“Spin! Spin! Spin!” 

“Fine. Fine!” he shouted loud enough to be heard, blowing hot air out of his mouth. “I get it!” He raised both hands in the air to get some of Cindy’s cheerleading friends to stop hollering, their enthusiasm giving him minor concern. “I’m doing it. I’m doing it.” 

The empty beer bottle spun tightly around their sitting circle–Rick anticipated disaster, regretting his cave to peer pressure the second his hand lifted away. Anyone but Mahkent. Anyone but Mahkent, he nearly prayed in mounting desperation. It whirled around Yolanda on his right, Becky Sharpe, Cindy and the cheerleaders, tipped past Jenny Williams, slowed by Courtney, and crawled past Cameron until it hesitantly landed on Beth. 

Rick jerked his eyes up, meeting her gaze. His heart stopped for, like, a minute. He’d been so caught up in who would be the worst option, he hadn’t had enough time to think what would happen if the bottle landed on one of his friends.

What the hell should I do?  

Courtney covered her mouth to hide her giggles. “Wow! Must be fate.” 

“Girlie,” Yolanda whisper-mimed, shaking her head and zipping her lips. “Shut up.” 

It didn’t matter–Rick easily ignored Courtney cajoling them six ways to Sunday because he couldn’t hear her. The music distorted around them as he tried to pick up on Beth’s cues. 

He almost asked her, should I spin again? 

Then her lips lifted into a small cheeky smile. Of course, Beth wouldn’t have let herself play if she minded getting a few kisses from this game considering she was the one reminding everyone about consent. And, he came to realize, this would be his first kiss sober. It scratched an itch in his brain to think it would be with Beth. They could laugh it off later. 

“Well?” some dude huffed, impatient. “Are you kissing or not?”

Rick cleared his throat. “Beth, are you sure…?” 

But she was already making her way towards him, answering his question. 

Okay. Welp. We’re doing this. 

Instead of shuffling into the middle of the circle like a circus act, Rick let her come to him. Once she was in arm’s reach, he reached forward, hauling Beth into his lap to move her away from a sticky beer spill. It was easier, more comfortable—Less of a spectacle, this way. 

“Oof.” She laughed breathlessly as he rearranged their limbs. “Hi there. This is close.” 

“Sorry,” he said, embarrassed, ready to shove her off him if she didn’t like it. 

Beth touched his hand. “Don’t apologize.” She was right, this was so close. He could count every curly eyelash of hers behind those dark frames.  “Did you know this only had a 7% probability of happening?” 

Rick inwardly rolled his eyes at her math brain guzzling out computations at a time like this. Why wasn’t she nervous? “I did not. It’ll just be a peck, okay?”

Her brown eyes brightened in the dim party room and she nodded. “Sure!”

Rick cupped her jaw, cautious to be gentle, then tipped her chin up so he could lean down and kiss her.

She was ready for it. She closed her eyes and looped her arms around his neck, meeting his quick peck with another kiss before he could end it. It caught him off guard when Beth let out a tiny sigh. 

It felt good. Right. Rick couldn’t pull himself away. 

She pushed herself up in his lap and then there was more. Rick’s thumb pressed against her cheek. He hadn’t had anything to drink since they first walked in, but his mind went warm and fuzzy, like that first sip of alcohol down his throat. Everything slowed around them. He didn’t know what they were doing or cared where they were, he just wanted the soft way Beth’s body pretzeled against his, her hand now moving, exploring down his neck to rest over his chest. It wasn’t rushed, or unsure, Beth was taking and he was giving or maybe it was the other way around. She let out another hum, and then there was another long lazy kiss, hypnotic enough for Rick to nearly believe that he had a soul she could’ve kissed out. 

“Woah, okay! Ew? Too much.” Jenny W clapped her hands. “Time’s up! Spin again!” 

He blinked out of the trance. “What?” 

She gave him a shy smile. “That was nice.”  Beth slid herself out of his lap seemingly unaffected nor aware of how she had just turned his life upside down.

 Nice? That was—Okay. Apparently the most intimate moment in his 18 years was just “nice.” Rick was fucked. 

“Yeah,” he croaked out, scared that if he spoke further his voice would crack, the tension between them was still palpable. Say something. You have to say something.

He focused on forming a coherent sentence out of his mouth. They should leave. To do what? He had no idea (yes, he did–her lips, that touch, the perfume on her neck, he needed it memorized). He also needed to process what the hell just happened, and, not surprisingly, Beth was very good at analyzing weird shit that happens to them–but not usually to both of them at the same time. 

“You heard me, right? It’s your turn now.” Jenny W thrust the bottle into Beth’s hand, not giving Rick the option to get a word in. 

“Oh,” Beth said. “Sorry!” 

He watched in stunned silence as she returned to her spot and wordlessly spun again. It landed on a guy from Ms. Woods’ calculus support group and jealousy took a hold of him with an iron fist. 

He got up and left, announcing he needed a piss, though the terrible excuse was luckily drowned out by the latest remix. Unable to stomach Beth kissing someone else, the rest of the night blurred like watercolors on a canvas. 

Nothing except the bleeding dark pinks of her lips dripped into every corner of his mind, the browns of her soft eyed stare, haunting his sleep. He suffered through the blue phantom-pain of Beth in his lap. The way she moved in it and how boldly he pulled her to him without second-guessing what he was doing. 

What was he doing? 

~.~ 

“Assuming the calculations from the goggles are correct, we would have six hours in the pocket dimension.” Beth wrote notes to follow her thinking on the Pit Stop whiteboard with a green marker, her goggles projecting a diagram. “That’s one hour in our dimension, meaning hypothetically your hourglass won’t time out.

“Got it,” Rick agreed without understanding, miserably distracted by the fact this was his first moment alone with Beth since Spin the Bottle. Thick tension returned with a vengeance. He could taste how bad he wanted her to like him. Every time she caught his eye Rick was certain he’d need a fire extinguisher to douse his hot heart within him. He sat on the table, his fingers tapping anxiously against the wood surface, really wanting to kiss her again. 

She narrowed her eyes and cocked her head like she didn’t quite believe him. Rightly so. He didn’t believe him, and that posed a risk for the JSA tomorrow. “Any questions, then?” 

“I don’t think so.” 

Beth folded her arms. “Really?” 

“Fine. Yeah. One.” 

She looked relieved. “Let’s hear it.” She turned around and wrote QUESTIONS on the board and set out to underline it.  

“Did that kiss mean anything to you?” 

Beth’s impeccable marker line careened to a crooked left. Slowly, she turned around. “That has nothing to do with our pocket dimension trip.” 

“You asked if I had any questions.” 

“Yes, you did. Fair enough.” She sighed in a way Rick couldn’t tell was wistful or annoyed. “Our kiss, you mean?” 

“Yes, our kiss.” Even calling it a kiss, as he had in his brain the last few days, was very modest. There was not just one kiss. There were several kisses. It was an experience. 

“Of course it meant something to me,” she said primly. The marker cap pressed into her inner-palm. “That was my first kiss.”

“That’s it?” 

She glanced away, fixating on the antiquated mugshots of Per Degatron’s goonies, finally starting to look as nervous as Rick felt. “What more do you want me to say? It was nice.”

He almost winced—There she went again. It was nice. For a girl with her vocabulary, that wasn’t promising. 

“It was a nice kiss,” she continued in his stretched silence, “and I’m glad I had it with you. I didn’t think the bottle would ever land on me, or that I would want to play until they made you go first. I’m pretty sure I went into it wanting to watch.” 

He furrowed his brows, trying to read between the lines. If she didn’t want to play unless he went first, then why did she continue with her turn afterwards? She must’ve used him to boost her confidence and practice kissing, not realizing he’d read into it so much. Now Rick felt stupid. 

“You’re hurt,” she said. He was about to argue, but there really wasn’t any point. Not when his voice would probably crack as he denied it. He cursed the accuracy of the mood reader still embedded in her goggles. Sensing his lingering wariness at the object above her hair, she took the goggles off and laid them aside. An offering that she wouldn’t leverage her emotional advantages in this conversation. She used the stool to step up onto the table, taking a seat next to him. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to tell you how you feel.” 

“It’s okay.” 

“It doesn’t have to be okay. Wasn’t it just a game?”

His hand inched closer to hers until their fingers brushed. She leaned against his side. He felt a strange catch in his breath as the warmth of her closeness untied some of the knots in his stomach. Beth was beautiful and sweet, and always bursting with compassion. How could he pretend he wasn’t falling for that? “It was supposed to be.” 

She looked up at him. 

“But..it wasn’t.” He met her stare and swallowed hard. “It wasn’t for me.” He dragged a hand over his forehead in disbelief he managed to say it out loud. He summoned the strength to keep going. “It wasn’t a game. It wasn’t just nice, it was…I didn’t want it to end. I didn’t want it to stop. I felt like we clicked in that moment and I woke up from sleepwalking through feelings I have for you.”

Beth didn’t say anything, like his confession knocked the wind out of her. “You like me?”

He groaned softly. “It’s embarrassing, I know.” 

“No! No, no it’s not,” she objected, squeezing the hand nearest to hers, but Rick didn’t think he could handle her breaking his heart so softly. 

“Can you just tell me if I need to get over you?” 

“I’m not doing that.” Beth sat up straight. “I called the kiss nice because I didn’t know how else to explain how I felt. I was inexperienced and surprised at myself. I won’t lie, the thought of kissing you excited me, but I thought that was because I trust you, so it would’ve been an easy way to get my first kiss out of the way.” 

Rick started to smile, thinking back on what she said. “You calculated that 7% chance.” 

 “I did, and then that happened. I didn’t know if that’s how kissing always felt like or if it was because it was you. So I kept playing and I had a few more turns after you left, okay, but none of those kisses were like ours. But I knew you hated the game, left right after kissing me, and intended to only give me a peck,” she repeated the last fact with fake quotation marks. “I was the one that got carried away. I was the one that was embarrassed. It was easier if I pretended it didn’t happen so I wouldn’t make things weird.” 

It was such a relief to hear her say that they were on the same page. “So what do we do now?” 

“Well, first, we need to go over the pocket dimension because I know you were not paying attention, which I thought was because you were feeling uncomfortable but now I think it is because you were staring at my skirt.” 

“Holy shit.” Rick scratched behind his neck as heat crawled up his face. This was perilous and exhilarating new ground. He liked Beth and she knew it. He was attracted to her and she could feel it. “Uh, I plead the fifth?” 

Beth laughed and flashed him that same flirty grin from the party. “But as for right now?” Rick knew he was either in for trouble or a really, really good time. “I can think of a few ideas.”

She unearthed the green marker from her pocket and gave it a spin.

[bergeronprocess]

9/24/24

Today I just want to write my impressions after finishing the anime Narenare -Cheer for You-.

I started watching the summer 2024 new anime season with 4 shows. Then the Olympics happened and it took up literally all of my Watchin’ TV Time. The state of my Youtube watch later playlist at the end of the Games was a mess lol. That Olympics watching also caused me to decide to drop 2 of the shows I was following - Shy season 2 (it just didn’t really seem to grab me; I bounced off it right as they were starting to assemble their team for rescuing Tokyo) and Twilight Out of Focus (apparently I bounced right as they concluded their focus on the first couple and it was actually an anthology show focusing on different people throughout; it was fine but I just wasn’t loving it).

I kept on with the long-ass-named magical girl and evil lieutenant show (I haven’t watched its finale yet) as well as Narenare. I’ve just finished watching the finale of Narenare and overall I enjoyed it! The guy assigned to review it at Anime News Network hated it, to the point that he literally named it the worst anime of the summer season, which I think is a bit harsh. To be clear, he’s welcome to his opinion, and I’m welcome to disagree. Also, the reviewer of this series was not Nicholas Dupree, who died suddenly and tragically at the way-too-damn-young age of 31. The reviewer was Jairus Taylor.

I do think Narenare had a LOT of ideas and not a lot of real estate to put them into, but that’s basically an endemic issue in new seasonal anime these days, unfortunately. Only having 12 or MAYBE 13 twenty-three-minute episodes to work with is just not ideal for any story. I think Narenare would have been better served by having 24 or 25 episodes. This standard yet shortened episode run leads to compression. For example, the plot of Mari-senpai developing her own bout of the twisties, driving a wedge into Pompoms out of spite and then overcoming the twisties it felt a little rushed, but was still nice to see. She took responsibility for her mean comment (I truly thought it was Megumi who posted the comment at first, upset with being physically unable to do cheerleading stunts. I was wrong!) and worked to make amends for it.

It was good to see characters not only mention the yips but to see Kanata going to a therapist about it. Destigmatization of mental health issues and seeking help for them is huge and Japan is lagging behind the US when it comes to that, so any efforts made towards it are welcomed by me. The story emphasizes the importance of trust and care among cheerleading team members, which is crucial when you have someone else’s life in your hands as you do when you’re about to toss them in the air! 

I also liked noticing the small touches that were made to facilitate accessibility for Megumi, like how a wheelchair ramp and a handrail was built on an exterior staircase of the beautiful old temple house she lives in. The fact that she came to every single Pompoms event, in full cheer attire and in her chair, was something I liked to see too. I at first thought that she was going to be permanently using a chair based on the promo images, but she was just temporarily needing it while recovering from the effects of a surgery, and she’s using crutches in the very last scene. At some point, she’ll probably be able to fully participate in cheer with Kanata again!

Jairus took issue with an earlier episode showing Kanata suddenly being able to fly again at the end of a montage, as if somehow her yips magically got cured by the power of friendship or whatnot, but then later episodes showed her continuing to struggle and he didn’t seem to take note of that. (To be fair…I never read his reviews of episodes 11 or 12 lol. I just know they’re probably overly negative.) I think that’s more realistic, especially with mental health struggles. Sometimes you get better, sometimes you backslide. I’ve found that to be the case in my own life with my anxiety. I backslid a little bit a few months ago and it was not fun. 

He also took issue with the Anna and Stout Records plot line, saying oh wow how convenient is it that this record store guy happens to know a Grammy winner who can just come help. Well! Maybe he was so stuck in his “this shop is going to close and I am giving away my records” way of thinking that he couldn’t see any other way out, but Anna and the gang provided a fresh perspective. Sometimes in our lives, we need that. We just need someone else to help us think differently, try something new, and achieve our dreams. That’s another running theme of Narenare.

I do think Nodoka and Suzuha’s development suffered a little bit, which can be an issue with ensemble casts. I like Nodoka, I see some of myself in her with her desire to just be chill lol, and I LOVE that Suzuha decided to go be an idol in Tokyo. (I just hope she doesn’t end up like Ai in Kageki Shoujo, excommunicated from the idol world for having a flat affect and telling a weird fan that he was being weird. Although she’s found a second life in the world of Kouka. Anyway please go watch Kageki Shoujo, I hope they make a season 2 of the anime eventually, and read the manga too…which I am still waiting for volume 10 of - it’s been delayed since, like, April and now has an October ETA.)

Narenare also kind of wanted to be an idol anime too, I think. The music is good, and I especially enjoyed the song from when they performed at the neighborhood festival to help save Stout Records. It also made sense in-universe because of Shion and Anna both being into the art of making music. I feel like the music/idol aspect was executed better here than in Pride of Orange, where they just really wanted to make a straight-up idol anime but decided to also put in ice hockey elements too. I never got past episode 1 of that show - being asked to believe the Japan national team could beat Canada in any international competition (and then immediately change out from sweaty hockey jerseys and pads into sparkly idol outfits and sing a song at center ice) is just stretching the suspension of disbelief a liiiiittle too far for me as a hockey fan.

I also like Love Live, so I’m primed to enjoy idol elements when they come lol.

The Day-Glo funky color palette of Narenare was an interesting visual choice, but I actually enjoyed it. There were some great examples of photorealistic animation as well, like a closeup of Suzuha’s pompoms as she finishes her idol application form or the countryside when Mari runs back home. It was fun to watch such candy-colored joy during a hot hot summer.

In short, I enjoyed watching Narenare and I found it to be harshly criticized by its Anime News Network reviewer. Is it my anime of the year? Probably not, though at this point I don’t know if I necessarily have a single standout anime of the year. We’ve still got another 2024 season yet to go, after all. But I had fun!

[wifelinkmtg]

Cruel Angel’s Thesis intensifies

Technically, it’s “Kamigawa: Neon Dynasty” and not “Neon Dynasty Kamigawa” but only the latter facilitates “get in the robot, Shinji” jokes when you tap your pilot token to crew your Thundersteel Colossus, so. Anyway, none of the mecha cards are relevant to this project - it would have been too much to hope for a POWER DoLLS situation - so really, the moral of the story is that I should have saved the Samurai Jack title joke for this edition.

TODAY ON WIFELINK: GUSHING ABOUT CYBERPUNK FANTASY JAPAN

NDK was a great set, you have to understand. Do you remember how one of the few unequivocally good things about Legend of Korra was this project of imagining a 1920s industrial setting derived from (mostly) East Asian art and architecture? Yeah, similar story here. Just one example: the Imperial mecha look like someone did origami to sheet metal, which is super cool and lends their faction a distinct visual identity. The art in this set is gorgeous - soaring architecture, grungy neon alleyways, sick cyborgs, spirits (in the original Kamigawa block, spirits had some of the weirdest creature designs Magic had ever had, and this continues that legacy) - sagas! saga art is in-universe visual representation of a story that’s important to the people of the world, and NDK sagas are told on ornamental fans, wall scrolls, porcelain jugs, the carved hilt of a katana, a silk dress, in a leaf carving and vector graphics AND, the best saga art ever, on the back of a biker rat’s leather jacket. (I would be remiss at this point not to recommend Rhystic Studies’ extremely good video on sagas.)

And the mechanics! Sagas turn into creatures when the story is over, sort of living memories. Ninjutsu made a triumphant return, the channel mechanic multiplied interesting choices, and so did the reconfigure mechanic, which let you either use a mechanical centipede as a whip attached to one of your creatures, or let it operate autonomously as a creature in its own right (which led to one of the best type lines in MtG: “Legendary Artifact Creature - Equipment Jellyfish.”)

The draft environment - and I know I’m way off-topic here, but I’m about to say some mildly unkind things about this set and I need to preface it - the draft environment was the best I’ve ever encountered. There were so many different viable archetypes, so many different cool choices you could make during drafts and gameplay. The blue-black ninjas deck, fast red-black artifact sacrifice, recursive green-white enchantments - all felt powerful and fun. The whole set was flavorful and compelling, and there are not that many good wifelink hits, I’m sorry to say.

THE QUALITY OF A MAGIC THE GATHERING SET IN TERMS OF THIS PROJECT IS NOT AN IMPORTANT INDICATOR OF OVERALL SET QUALITY

Heiko Yamazaki, the General (art by Magali Villeneuve)

Heiko makes it where her cousin Norika (also by Villeneuve) doesn’t for two reasons: one is that I find Heiko’s broody expression indicative of a rich and stormy internal life, which always hits me like the smoky scent of a fine scotch or a cup of lapsang souchong. A woman with inner turmoil draws me like a moth to a bug-zapper, which I suppose is why I keep getting into trouble with older women in troubled relationships. “If I simply provide enough unpaid therapy, she’ll leave her abusive husband back in [REDACTED FORMER SOVIET REPUBLIC] & also the closet she’s been in for forty-five years & stay in the United States with me!” Yeah, that’ll happen, idiot.

The other reason is that Norika is a cop.

Tamiyo, Compleated Sage (art by Chris Rahn)

There are a lot of planeswalkers I don’t care about, personally, and I’m not only talking about the male ones. If I’m being honest, my engagement with Magic story has always been kind of shallow on account of Magic story is frequently (but not always!) bad. Like, pursuant to the previous entry, I did enjoy the apparently-uncredited story about the Yamazakis Wizards published back in February. It’s compelling! There’s juice to that relationship. We will never get anything else about these characters.

See, it turns out that the incentives of creating a collectible card game are not terribly aligned with those of creating rich long-form fantasy stories. Novelty sells cards. We hop around. Those few characters who do enjoy a prolonged spotlight often wilt under the attention as we all collectively get sick to death of the fucking Gatewatch or whoever else. Magic the Gathering is still compelling media, or else why would I be doing this, but to me it’s a kaleidoscopic whirl of mostly detached ideas, characters, settings, and vibes.

ALL OF WHICH IS TO SAY that I never knew much or cared to about Tamiyo. She was some nerd from Kamigawa who didn’t save Avacyn, whatever. Then the Phyrexians got her and turned her into an ichor-weeping cyborg brainwashed into working toward the universal expansion of New Phyrexia, a biomechanical plane of horror, corruption, and ego death, so now she’s hot!

Go-Shintai of Hidden Cruelty (art by Johannes Voss)

I don’t think I can explain this one, to be honest. Sometimes you just wanna get fucked up by a magical bone machine.

I KNOW THIS ONE HAS BEEN REALLY TALKY ALREADY BUT I GOT SOME BEHIND-THE-SCENES STUFF TO SAY AND A SET WITH ONLY THREE HITS SEEMS AS GOOD A PLACE AS ANY

Well, only three hits that I can find high-quality images of for. I suppose I could be using card rips of Tia Masic’s Moon-Circuit Hacker (reminiscent of my introduction to cyberpunk via Shadowrun, a bad setting paired with a bad system which nevertheless compelled me to consume more cyberpunk, most of it also bad) or Wisnu Tan’s Spring-Leaf Avenger (a delightful vaguely-orchid-mantis bug ninja) but that would look like

and

...oh wait that actually looks fine, at least to me on desktop. Okay, then, I’ll incorporate those into my strategy as an acceptable last resort going forward. Actually, while I’m at it:

Junji, the Midnight Sky (art by Chase Stone)

The dragon’s hot, man, I don’t know what to tell you.

THE OTHER THING IS ABOUT WHAT WE WILL GENEROUSLY CALL AN “UPDATE SCHEDULE”

Phyrexia: All Will Be One releases the second week in February and I am goddamn well going to review that as soon as it’s out, because I played Cyberqueen at the young and impressionable age of twenty-two and now “quasi-omnipotent dominatrix corrupts you into a biomechanical horror ecstatically enslaved to her will” is the hottest thing I will ever get out of Magic: the Gathering unless Ashiok decides to start force-femming planeswalkers, so I am going to be tearing through one set a week for the next three weeks.

Next time is New Capenna, the Art Deco Metropolis of organized crime, bad draft experiences, and well-muscled arms, followed by a return to Dominaria where my excitement for more Phyrexians will be tempered by the fact that my favorite characters from the last Dominaria set are not quite so hot this time round.

[starlingsrps]

i'll tell you everything about being free.

they’ve got ten days before they’re supposed to report at camp dix and then bound for an RAF base in england and god only fucking knows what from there. the plan had been to split for a few days to say goodbye to their families before meeting up again in new york for a little hell raising.

and then indigo had met eliza.

instead of those plans, he’s sweating his ass off in his dress uniform inside a jewelry store in los angeles waiting for indigo to finish picking out a wedding band for his blushing bride so they can meet at the courthouse. california holds zero charms for him and he doesn’t understand how people actually like this shit, let alone live here year round. there’s sweat in places he doesn’t usually care to have sweat, he’s five more minutes from smelling like wet dog, and needs a drink in a way that he should probably worry about more but that feels primal at the same time. 

he likes eliza just fine. she’s sharp as hell and indigo looks at her like she’s made of solid gold. if he didn’t know they’d only met three times, he’d assume they’ve known each other for years. it’s enough to make a man believe in love but that doesn’t mean he thinks this is the best idea indigo’s ever had. the odds aren’t exactly in their favor once they get to europe but david figures that if he takes down enough fascists in the process, it’ll even itself out. indigo had had the same point of view but now that he’s going to have someone back home, david has his concerns.

indigo calls him over to the counter from where he’s languishing by a fan for his opinion on a band. he squints at it and shrugs. it looks like every other wedding band he’s ever seen in his life - gold, round. nothing flashy but eliza’s a pilot too. chances are it’ll live on a chain around her neck. “aren’t you supposed to get her a gouger?”

indigo makes a little pffing sound and hands it back to the salesgirl, telling her he’ll take it. “gouger after the war.” 

“gouger makes a statement.”

“y’know, we’re the same rank and i know i’m sure as hell not making gouger pay so i’m wondering where you’re getting that from.”

david shrugs and goes back over to the fan. “i see movies.” indigo pays the clerk and they make their way out of the store. “still time to run,” he comments. “we can be in tijuana by sundown.”

“you can be in tijuana by sundown,” he says, holding out the ring box to david. “i’m getting married.”

david pockets it and slips his sunglasses back on. even if he thinks this isn’t the best idea, he’s determined to hold up his end on best man duties. holding the ring and offering to facilitate an escape feels about the best he can do under the circumstances. “you’re sure?”

indigo smiles but it’s dead serious. “never surer. you’ll get it one of these days.”

david snorts. “yeah, you can shoot me first.”

eliza is waiting on a bench at the courthouse with her friend claire. david hates the pang he feels when he watch them greet each other. she’ll take care of his friend. she’ll keep him sharp and they’ll have their six kids in the seattle suburbs and he’ll be uncle david who comes to visit once a month. the future will be fine - they all just have to survive this fucking war first.

he doesn’t really talk to claire until it’s all said and done. she’s a tiny little thing, especially among the the rest of them, and while the happy newlyweds drift ahead of them on the sidewalk on the way to dinner, david tries to hang back so she isn’t walking alone. indigo and eliza are in a world of their own anyway.

“they’re sweet together,” claire says.

“the timing’s shit.” david doesn’t realize that he’s said it out loud until claire’s very frosty “oh?” and now he feels like he has to finish the thought.

“think about it. we’re - he’s leaving for who the fuck knows how long in a week. we’re pilots.”

“eliza’s a pilot,” claire interjects and david scoffs.

“not like this.”

“don’t let her hear you say that. i think it’s bad luck for a bride to punch someone in the nose on her wedding day.”

he doesn’t doubt for a second that eliza would punch him in the nose. “i’m not dumb enough to talk shit about a wasp. our odds are worse, that’s all.”

she doesn’t say anything, just gives him a cool look that makes him sigh. he feels trapped in this conversation and he just didn’t want her to get lost.

“it’s 50-50 every damn time. he’s a lucky son of a bitch but you can’t get lucky every time.”

“and does that apply to you too?”

“of course. but i’m not leaving anyone behind.”

“no friends, no family…?”

he scoffs. “i wasn’t hatched.”

“you don’t think they’d miss you?”

indigo and eliza have turned the corner ahead of them and they stop on the sidewalk. if david is going to have it out, it’s probably best to do it just the two of them

“that’s not what i meant and you know that. i’m not leaving anyone that relies on me.”

“well aren’t you optimistic?”

his smile is tight and he knows it. “that’s what the other fifty is for.”

“are we done? i’d like to get back to celebrating.”

“we’re done.”

screw it, she can get lost.

[soir-rouges-esprit]

xxvii.b: Soul Quench, "SHHHH Damn it … calm down and shut up. I The Imp and Jester know you didn't try and do that, come on get real … your mother thinks otherwise … signed to keep you on a suicide watch for the next seventy-two hours, after you awake and are cleared by the doctor to be fully conscious of course, but you're still gonna be held here for the next three fuckin days." What and the fuck … I can’t do that, I gotta get the fuck outa here, I got work to do, gotta talk to Mrs.Van, make a few arrangements and get some … “Stop! … not gonna happen, regardless. You can’t leave this fuckin hospital before your time is up without the cops dragging you back, at least I think that’s how it works … either way, don’t do anything stupid, you can’t even walk outta here without help fuck face, so don’t go runnin, think about how hard it’s gonna be to get out of here and the trouble it’ll cause you, then think about how that’s just gonna multiply the second you leave this place in the outside world … SO STAY … PUT.” … This is all bullshit, fine my legs are fucked, but give me a wheelchair, I’ll make my way down the street like nothing happened. “You’re heavily medicated and need to stay that way to not be in agonizing pain … you need to be in a controlled environment to heal right” *He raised his hand quick, and pointed at me* “be watched … not wheeling down Central on a mission to see some crooked ass old woman, She’s a damn snake … a Viper … she’ll eat you alive if you go back and talk to her.” I’m fine, perfectly capable even drugged to work, at least when it comes to thinking, etc. I know … she is no good, but this time … I gotta go to her … gotta let her know what happened, it’s important. “Why?” I got thrown off that bridge … that fucking chicano gangster fuck found me, stalked me, kidnapped me, and then tried to sewer me … nearly did so as you can clearly see *I motioned downwards towards my legs* “*Sigh* … Jester thought something like that took place … ” He sat in the cheap plastic chair next to my hospital bed, it made a loud *squeak* noise, and had scooted closer to me. “Ok so … what happened exactly?” I explained everything down to the fine details. “What in the fuck … why now?” I don’t know … I guess really why not now, he felt crossed I know that when I left and stopped working for him, and well … help The Jester leave The City and his service when things went all crazy back then; he didn’t take that to kindly as you can imagine … I had been hiding more or less from him since then, don’t know how he got word of me being back in The City so fast … but he did and he acted on it. Now I have to reach out to the only resource that can deal with this problem … if he finds out, When … he finds out, He’s gonna come back and throw me over the bridge again … this time riddled in lead to really make sure I don’t crawl back out of that fucking ditch. “Right … so she’s the only option here? I mean even a Federal option if available is better than sacrificing your soul to the damn devil here” Maybe you’re right … but I can’t live life in that way. “What do you me, That way?” I could take down the whole damn Rat Aways with one conversation with a Fed … but putting away that gangster fuck is one thing … he can come back, and will … come back eventually; I’ll live life always looking behind my back, always waiting for that day when It’d be my last at the hands of a drug smuggling, human trafficking urban warlord …  not gonna happen. “So you want her … to kill him?” I want her to take that Fucking Scumbags soul to Hell where he belongs … even outside of what he did to me … he is a primary reason for drugs filling the streets here, why The Jester was able to facilitate his problem for so long … probably many others. “Don’t do that … this isn’t a noble cause of helping others … you are doing this for your sake, nothing else … don’t try and shadow that shit in front of me, thought you put that shit behind you?” … you’re right … I’m not doing this for anyone else but myself, and my well-being … [To Be Continued]

[thelampisaflashlight]

Because I just spent an absurd amount of time trying to open a wine bottle, only for it to be basically flavorless, y’all get some “Dinner with the ghouls & Copia” headcanons. Indeed, I will use anything to facilitate making more headcanons. Below the cut for ease of scrolling, take a piece of cheese from the charcuterie board before you go.

Copia: Definitely tries to make an event out of the meal, he wants his guests to have the whole “dinner and a show” experience, but he can and will do something embarrassing part way through the evening. Be it fumbling the wine bottle or accidentally dropping sauce on his fancy outfit, he’s going to be incredibly dramatic about it, even if most of his “truly devastated” behavior is an act.

He tries to make the effort for when Sister Imperator comes to visit or other important church figures, but if it’s just him and the ghouls? He’s leaning over the coffee table eating chicken wings and pizza and making an absolute mess of himself. Worse yet, he’s feeding the bones to the ghouls because they like the crunch. Simply atrocious.

Aether: He tries, he really does. He puts in the time and effort to make things nice, and hey, it works out just fine! ...Uhhh... most of the time. The first time he cooked for anyone after being summoned was a disaster, the second time was just as bad, and the third time he at least remembered to remove the egg shells from his omelet attempt.

Nowadays he does pretty well, and is a wonderful host, but, much like Copia, if he can swing a no stress meal that lets him sit around in his boxers and watch tv, he will.

Dewdrop: He’s ordering dinner for everyone, he doesn’t have the time or the energy to make a fancy meal for a bunch of hungry people. He just doesn’t. He will remember your extra order of fries, he will ask if they can put the sauce in a separate container, because, “Mountain doesn’t like the ranch ON his food, he likes to dip it. I know that the little plastic cup will cost 25 cents more, he wants his ranch on the side and he’ll have it on the side.”

If he’s by himself though? Five star chef mode suddenly activates and he’s making himself single serve lasagnas and homemade pasta, because, “I deserve it, fuck you.”. Hard to say if his cooking is actually any good taste wise though considering the ghoul can and will eat soap.

Swiss/Multi: He’s taking people to a fancy restaurant to show off, and acts all proper and charming and it’s working dammit. He’s laying it on thick for his group, and he WILL wind up getting dessert for free because the staff thinks he’s handsome. He’s the dude who shows up with a really expensive box of pastries for people to eat that he got with a discount, because he “knows a guy”.

However, he’s also the one crunching down on chicken bones in the first scenario.

Rain: He’s got a box of mac and cheese with your name on it. No, really, he labelled it so he’d remember not to eat it before his dinner date rolled around. A connoisseur of the finest chicken nuggets the freezer section has to offer. 

He knows how to make all kinds of fancy dishes, but he’s a ghoul of taste, and knows sometimes simple is better. He will pair Kraft dinner with wine though.

Mountain: He’s going to to try and make you something you haven’t eaten before, keeping any dietary restrictions in mind of course. Likes making the meal alongside his guests and getting them to try the individual ingredients to see how they blend together to make the overall flavor.

Very polite host, who makes sure his guests have plenty of snacks, but is also secretly hoping there are lots of leftovers so he can eat them later after everyone has left.

Cumulus: She’s like Mountain, in that she likes having her guests help out with the meal, but she’ll also settle for them bringing their own individual dishes to share. If her and Mountain team up to make dinner, chances are there’s gonna be six other very curious and hungry ghouls lurking behind the kitchen island.

Cirrus: Makes the best pancakes anyone has ever had, but that’s about it. She can cook, but she simply will not. You’d sooner convince Dew to make dinner for everyone than get her to handle the hassle of feeding eight hungry ghouls. Nope, not happening. 

However, if Cumulus asks, well, she can’t say no, because she asked so politely and agreed to help wash the dishes afterwards.

Sunshine: She’s on par with Rain in this case, but Swiss feels, as a fellow multi ghoul, that she deserves better than boxed mac and cheese. Rain wholeheartedly disagrees and thinks it’s the pinnacle of dinner foods. It’s a whole thing.

She can microwave a hotdog without it bursting in the microwave, and Copia will consider that a win compared to the destruction the other ghouls have wrought on the abbey’s kitchen over the years.

[sylvies-chen]

“The taller person absentmindedly playing with the shorter persons hair while they’re standing in line”

Please use this prompt for Sylvie and Matt.

Their height (& size 👀) difference is so good but never talked about 🗣

You're honestly so right anon, their height and size difference isn't talked about enough!! I think it's mainly because I've never seen Matt/Jesse as a super tall guy, but I could seriously talk about his arms for DAYS. (Also, @everythingaddictxx requested this prompt too-- hope you like it!)

++++

The first time it happens, they're at Molly's.

Matt's arm is drooped lazily around Sylvie's shoulders, both of them a little tipsy as they sit at the bar and happily chat with Herrmann. His hand is hanging loose at first but then gently grips onto a strand of her hair. Her hair is ruffled at her shoulders and needed brushing away from her face anyway, so she lets him rub the single lock of hair between his thumb and his index finger. It's only for a moment, and he pushes it behind her shoulder after, but it happens. Sylvie's heart flutters. He's electrifyingly close to her and it's one of the rare occasions where she feels extremely small next to him. He's practically towering over her, and she feels the distinct urge to shrink-- not self-consciously or into herself, but into his massive arms. It's an embrace that’s tempting beyond measure, like a memory foam pillow that lures you in with the promise of utter bliss.

And god, his hand is still playing with her hair while he looks down at her, eyeing Sylvie with something sweet and wild in his eye. It makes her completely tune out Herrmann until... Crap, she thinks Herrmann just asked her something. What the hell did he just say?

The second time it happens is sort of the same. They're in his quarters because they've both developed the habit of doing paperwork in his office so that they can still spend time together. They had a pretty rough call in the morning though and Sylvie notices the serious furrowed brow that comes with the Captain Casey look that spreads across his face while he's filling it out. When she looks up from her own report, she sees nothing written on his. All he's doing is tapping his pen against the paper, the repetitive clicking quiet but noticeable. She stops it by covering his hand with hers, her fingers soothingly stroking the edge of his pinky. Matt looks up immediately and smiles. The smile he gives her is weak but his Captain Casey look-- the one where it looks like he has the world on his shoulders-- is gone. It's more meaningful than anyone will ever know. She returns the smile, exhaling and soaking in the moment. It's one of those wordless communications that highlight just how lucky she is to have a connection like this with someone like him. With her Matt.

He retracts his hand from out of her hand, caressing Sylvie's cheek for a moment before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. his fingers stray further down the strand of hair though, doing the same thing he had at Molly's just the other week. His thumb and his index finger pinches at her locks, even daring to twirl it around his finger for a moment this time. It makes his smile even wider, and she finally sees the stress of the morning calls leave his body. She takes a silent pride in that.

The third time it happens though, they're in line waiting to get Matt's prescription migraine medication. The doctor had suggested that he ups his dosage just to be safe and she can't help but be a little worried. There's not a risk of anything being wrong with him, they cleared that up months ago before they even started dating, but the whole experience of going with him to the doctor is one she'd rather forget and the pills make that hard. Even though this medication helps him, it's a rough callback to what he almost lost.

She decides to go with him though, because if she was there for everything last time-- the appointments, the MRI, the results-- then she's going to be there for him now. Even if it's just picking up meds at a pharmacy.

It's busy at the pharmacy today, she notices. They're standing in line waiting for the line to move up, and Matt's fidgeting with his hands against his legs. He's just as nervous as she is, if not more. It worries her. Matt acts as a rock for everyone around him all the time, he so rarely gets to rely on someone the way others rely on him. Soon, after latching onto that thought for a moment, something fiercely protective of him roars in her chest. It's an urge to just... support him. It's as simple as that.

"It's just a prescription," she nods like it's a mantra, convincing herself of the same thing. "You're totally fine."

"I know. I just don't really like thinking about it," he sighs, shaking his head. "It's like this reminder that no matter what happens, running into burning buildings and into car wrecks, I can still be so... human."

He lets out a nervous laugh, blinking his thoughts away. "Sorry, I know that's silly," he adds dismissively.

"No, not at all," she assures him without missing a beat. She gives him a fierce and determined look of comfort, and then grabs his hand to lace their fingers together. When she does, her hand moves his over her head until his arm is behind her and his hand droops over her far shoulder. "I don't like thinking about it either, but you're strong no matter how mortal you are. Don't think of it like the thing that almost destroyed you, think of it for what it is: the thing that you survived."

He smiles at her, squeezes her hand before soundly sealing his lips against hers. "Thank you," he mumbles to her when he pulls back. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Sylvie Brett."

She shrugs humbly and giggles. Before she can reply, the people in front of them at the pharmacy move up the line and leaves open space for them to move forward.

As they start to stroll forward slowly, inching closer to the pharmacist's desk, Sylvie feels Matt's hand leave her hand's embrace and over to her hair. As per his usual habit, he pinches at the short, wavy ends of her hair and plays with it in between his thumb and his index finger. Normally, at about this point, Sylvie would ask what this habit of his is. Only she doesn't need to, because she's got the distinct feeling that Matt Casey just likes playing with her hair when he's a little nervous. The first time at Molly's was just to be affectionate but when Sylvie thinks about it, he only does it whenever he's fidgety and anxious.

She decides she'll take this over him tapping his pen any day, so she snuggles further into his side to facilitate access to her hair-- and, admittedly, because she wants to be closer with him. She looks up to him, her cheek resting against his thick and sturdy bicep, and sees his whole demeanor relax again.

Sylvie marvels at Matt's fingers twirling her hair, with a curious twinkle in her eye for the next ten minutes until they get to the pharmacist's desk, pick up his medication without flaw, and everything feels right in the world again.

[onthesandsofdreams]

The Courtship of Erestor

Pairing: Erestor/Ecthelion Rating: T Summary:  “I won’t make you wait any longer, darling Erestor.” Words: 3004

Read @ AO3

“Erestor, just because your mother gave you that name,” Idril gave his arm a friendly squeeze, a mock stern tone to her voice. “Doesn’t mean you’ll be alone forever. Have some faith.”

Erestor sighed, he and Idril had been friends since childhood, their mothers being friends had facilitated such thing. “And yet, I remain alone.”

“Perhaps you just haven’t met the one just yet.” Idril looked at him, a serious look to her face now. “Or maybe you have and you both are being stubborn and afraid.”

Erestor did his best not to wince, because Idril had unknowingly struck true. There was someone, someone he fancied – no, loved. Because he knew himself well enough to know that it was love. But he wasn’t quite ready to admit it out loud, at least he wasn’t ready to speak his name to Idril. He knew her enough to know that she’ll do her best and meddle. He wasn’t sure he was ready for that, because Idril could be quite persistent and, he knew that she would go out of her way to make sure that the object of his affections was around in oh-so convenient places wherever he would be. “No one has tried to court me either,” he pointed out.

Idril looked at him, with those bright blue eyes of her that almost seemed to see to his very soul. Then, after a few moments of silence, she smiled softly. “They are fools then. Fools for not seeing beyond that sharp tongue of yours. You’re smart and cunning, clever and resourceful, kind and compassionate, and you have one of the noblest hearts I know. You’re quite handsome too, so take heart dear Erestor, I know, that someone out there, will look at you and fall so completely in love, they will refuse to let you go. You won’t be alone forever.”

Idril’s words gave Erestor hope, and he knew that he was such a fortunate elf for having her as his friend. “If Princess Idril says so, then, it must be true,” he spoke solemnly. Then, softly, he said, “It would be nice not being alone anymore.”

Idril kissed his cheek, “You won’t be so for long, so my heart says.”

Erestor simply squeezed her hand, they were sitting under the shade of a tree in the Palace gardens for lunch, Idril had already asked a servant to prepared everything, choosing to drag Erestor outside herself, else, he would find an excuse and continue working.

So Erestor never did see the shadow that lurked, hidden behind a near fountain. Nor did he notice, the eyes that were glued to his face, nor did he hear the whisper that left the figure as Erestor and Idril continued their meal. “I won’t make you wait any longer, darling Erestor.”

*** Two days after his talk with Idril, Erestor found himself locked away in his office. The lunch bell had rung and he simply couldn’t leave, the pile of paperwork that laid in front of him demanded his undivided attention, so with a rueful gesture, he kept on working.

Erestor would’ve continued on undisturbed and ignored the hunger he felt, until there was a knock on his door. “Come,” he spoke softly, not even bothering to look up.

“My lord Erestor,” it was a woman’s voice. At that, Erestor looked up to see one of the kitchen maids carrying a basket. “I was asked to deliver this to you.”

“Who?” Erestor asked as he inspected the basket. Inside it, he found a small bottle of wine, a sandwich that was made of cold meat, soft cheese and spinach, alongside a bowl of wild berries. There was a note too, it simply read, ‘You work too hard’.

The maid shook her head, “I do not know milord, I was simply asked by Lothwen, she had it ready for you, said that it was a request. I know nothing more.”

Erestor nodded slowly, “My thanks than, dear lady. And give my thanks to our dear Lothwen.”

The maid bowed and left, leaving Erestor deep in thought. Lothwen, the head cook, was someone who took her duties very seriously, and while it would be possible that she would’ve set aside some food for him (as she had done so before), the fact that he had been told it was a request threw him off. He crossed Idril, Turgon and Penlod immediately, they would simply send for him or come to his office and made him join them at the dinner table.

In the end, Erestor shrugged and tucked in. The meat was tender, the bread had mustard and the cheese was one of his favorites. He swallowed down his food with the wine, thankful for that small thoughtful act.

***

Two days later, Erestor found something strange in his office. He had arrived on time, as it was his wont, only to find a box of chocolate truffles in his desk. He approached the box wearily, almost as if it were a snake that was poised to attack. Atop the box, there was a note, ‘Something sweet to start your day, enjoy Erestor’.

Erestor inspected the truffles and bit into one, they were made of dark, almost bitter chocolate – his favorite, his mind supplied – and were laced with fine brandy. He didn’t know what to make of it, instead, he finished the truffle he had been eating and putting the rest aside to take home, he began to work.

His mind however, didn’t stopped and it made Erestor realize that, whomever it had gifted the truffles, clearly knew that he favored both dark chocolate and brandy. He shook his head, he could ponder on the mystery later, right now, he had work to do.

Several days latter, Erestor arrived at his office to find a lovely flower bouquet. His heart raced, and he raised a shaky hand to brush against the flower petals. They were red roses. And he, ever the scholar and ever the closet romantic, knew what that meant: love. The red rose always meant that. He began to look for a note and he found it tied around the stems (which had been free of thorns):

‘Have some beautiful blossoms, to match your beauty’.

Erestor released the breath he didn’t know he had been holding. Who would give him flowers? He took the bouquet and lifted them to his nose, he allowed the scent of the roses to wash over his senses. He couldn’t help but to smile. No matter what, those flowers had given him something: hope. Perhaps, there was someone out there for him.

But he wouldn’t lie to himself, Erestor was afraid that whomever did this, would change his or her mind and forget everything and leave him to deal with both disappointment and to nurse a broken heart. Still, he cherished the flowers.

***

Much to Erestor’s surprise, the gifts didn’t stop after the flowers. They simply varied, one day, he arrived to find a book of love poetry in his desk, clearly hand written and intended for him (or at least the dedication claimed), another was a journal, another came in a fine bottle of brandy, one memorable day, he was gifted a mithril ring that bore tiny opals, a case of his favorite sweet wine had been delivered to his home once. Foodstuff also came, during one memorable occasion, during a dinner he had been served strawberry ice cream, something that had been the envy of many. Gifts of books and other small little trinkets came too, and through it all, there was a note and on some days, a poem too.

Erestor cherished the poetry, it was clear that whomever it was that it had written it, was doing so from their hearts, for it was loving and kind, some, even spoke of him in such a way that made him flush with pleasure. He had never been so flattered as to when he read a poem by his admirer, he’d never received poetry that was inspired by him.

But Erestor did not have a clue as to whom it was sending him the gifts. He had tried speaking with Lothwen, as she could know who it was, but she had simply smiled and refused to say anything. Idril was another dead end, she had given him a look that clearly spoke about knowing who it was, but she simply smiled and said, “You’ll find soon enough dear Erestor.”

And so, Erestor simply wondered who it could be. He would often see an elf and wonder, ‘is this him? Is this her?’ and have no answer. The servants didn’t know either, some had claimed that the gifts that had arrived to his office, had simply arrived late at night by messenger and they had simply delivered them to him.

His brother was no help either, Penlod, had witnessed it most of it. And simply smiled upon him, placed a strong hand on his shoulder and said, “You, my darling brother are being courted. Enjoy it.”

And yes, Erestor was enjoying it. But he would enjoy it even more if he knew whom it was. What if it was someone he didn’t like? But he dismissed the idea, the poetry was enough to convince him of that. For the honest and eager beauty of them could not lie. Whomever it was, clearly knew him well enough and loved him.

Because the poems and dedications of the gifts, had started at some point being signed with ‘with all my love’. Love, the one thing he ached for and now, it seemed that it was so near his grasp. Now, he only wished his admirer would step forward and give him a name.

Oh there was someone Erestor dearly wanted it to be, he had been in love with Ecthelion, Lord of the Fountain for quite a while, but he had never mustered the courage to say so. Ecthelion shone brightly, he was such a respected elf and so sought after, that he was sadly aware that he – plain Erestor – would not have a chance with him. There wasn’t anything that Erestor didn’t like about Ecthelion, his kind and gentle heart, his fierceness as a warrior, that beautiful voice that was made to be raised in song, those deep gray-green eyes, those proud and noble features.

But now, Erestor wondered if he could let Ecthelion go and enjoy love with someone who clearly thought the world of him. Someone who claimed to love him, someone who was going out of their way to make sure Erestor knew it.

Perhaps he could.

*** Erestor’s next gift, came just in time for Idril’s begetting day celebration. The robes arrived as per usual, a messenger bearing it and a note, ‘Would you honor me by wearing it? I think you would look breathtaking. Someone who loves you.’

When Erestor opened the package, he found a ruby red robe with silver embroidery. It was a made with fine velvet and silk, and it was so unlike anything he usually wore. He tended to limit himself to black, dark green, burgundy and dark blue. Only on especial occasions did he wore the colors of his house. But this shade of red? It was very unlike him, but he appreciated the gesture.

“That is beautiful brother,” Penlod’s voice broke the silence in the room. “A new gift?”

“Yes,” he said and offered the robe for Penlod’s inspection. “I’m just�� overwhelmed, I suppose.”

Penlod observed the robe, then set it aside carefully and went to his brother. “This is a very fine garment, it would suit you well. Your admirer clearly wants you in fine things.”

Erestor couldn’t help but to blush. “I just wish I knew who it was.”

“Is there someone you want it to be?” Penlod’s voice was soft and tender, as he watched as his brother stared at the gift.

“There is,” Erestor said just as softly. “But, it would not be right to get my hopes dashed.”

Penlod said nothing for a while, he knew that his brother had a tender heart, no matter what facade he gave the world, there was a loving and gentle heart that feared to be broken. “Then, I hope that your admirer is someone you may grow to love if you so wish it.”

“Thank you brother.”

***

Idril’s begetting day arrives swiftly and finds Erestor at a crossroads. He stares at the red robe his admirer sent and wonders if he should wear it. Penlod had ordered a new set in several shades of gray and silver. But in the end, he opts for the red ones. Wears black trousers and the silver tunic from Pelond’s set, dons the robes over it and takes a deep breath, finishes it with boots.

Perhaps his admirer will out themselves if they see him wear them. Erestor’s most desperate desire still leans towards Ecthelion, but his heart is open to the possibility of someone else. He sits in front of his vanity and braids his hair, sets some diamonds and rubies throughout it. When he was finally ready, he looked at himself in the mirror and, for one second, he almost didn’t recognized himself. The elf that stares back from his mirror is… quite the sight.

Erestor allows himself a tiny smile, his admirer had chosen well in the color and cut. It’s a bold look that he finds suits him well. He leaves his chamber before doubts can catch up with him and make him fake a headache.

He finds Penlod in the drawing room, glass of wine in his hand. His brother is dressed in deep gray and silver. Penlod takes one look at him and smiles over the brim of his glass. “You are quite the sight brother, are you ready?”

“Thank you brother,” Erestor tries to suppress the blush that comes, fails. “I am, let us be off, it wouldn’t do to be late.”

***

Idril’s begetting day feast was a lively one, Erestor found himself enjoying it. He was usually not one for loud parties, preferring far more intimate gatherings, but it could not be said that King Turgon did not know how to throw a feast.

Idril dragged him to dance on several occasions and, much to his surprise, Erestor found himself being on the receiving end of more requests. It was the robes, he decided, he wasn’t usually so bold in his dressing. He danced here and there, chatted with his fellow elves and found himself in lively discussion with Glorfindel about a new strain of roses he was trying to grow.

And much to his absolute delight and surprise, Ecthelion had complimented him on his robes. “They suit you well,” he’d said. They had shared a dance too, in which Erestor did his best to calm his nerves as he was swept to the dance floor at the arm of the Lord of the Fountain.

But the night went on, and there was no sign of his admirer. On impulse, Erestor made his way to the Palace garden, Turgon had several flowering plants that bloomed at night and the fragrance that they gave, alongside the crisp air and other greenery, calmed him down. He lost track of the time he spent near the roses, when a voice – one that he knew very well – broke the silence.

“I am glad to see that my gift suited you.”

Erestor froze. His mind was spinning, that sweet, melodic voice that he loved so much. Carefully, he turned. And Ecthelion stood some paces away from him. Dressed in silver brocade robes with accents in blue, circlet of his station upon his brow, hair braided with blue ribbons. His face was soft and tender, a small smile upon his face and his eyes, they were warm and – it took his breath away – full of love.

“It was you?” It was all Erestor managed to say. So much for being hailed as eloquent. But then again, diplomacy and such others hardly mattered (or prepared you) in matters of the heart.

“Yes.” Comes the soft reply. And before Erestor can ask more questions, Ecthelion recites one of the poems that are on the book he received, his voice is full of emotion as he does and Erestor find that his own vision blurs with unshed tears.

Erestor blinks the tears away, lets his heart soar with joy, the Valar it seem, have seen fit to grant him his greatest desire. “I love you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. He extends a shaky hand, Ecthelion doesn’t hesitate and takes it. “I didn’t dare hope… I wanted to be you, but I was afraid.”

Ecthelion pulls him forward, gently wrapping his arms around him. “Well, it is me meleth. And I love you too.”

Erestor all but melt into Ecthelion’s strong arms, closes his eyes and allows his senses to fill with the clean and crisp scent that always clings to Ecthelion. He hugs him back. When he finally regains his bearings, he says, “What a way to sweep me off my feet, Lord of the Fountain.”

Ecthelion chuckles and kisses his hair. “My dearest, cleverest Erestor, your courtship is barely beginning.” Another kiss to his hair. “I am glad you wore the robes, one day soon, you’ll wear the colors of my house.”

Erestor gapes, then shakes his head with a smile, “Quite certain of that, Ecthelion?”

Ecthelion laughs, his laughter like music. “Just a very fervent hope my dear.” And he places his hands around Erestor’s face and places a gentle kiss upon his lips.

Erestor all but melts into the kiss, pulls Ecthelion back for another, the feast forgotten. Right now, all that it mattered was this moment, the joy he felt, the love returned and the promise of a future together.

What neither of them see, is a smiling Idril looking at them from one of the windows. She turns away, leaving the lovers to their romance, but she whispers. “About time.”

[byakuyasdarling]

For the ask game, how about 'teacup' and 'latte'? I hope these are good and I wish you an epic day!! <3

Hi Octo!! Thank you so, so much for the ask! You are so wonderful <<333 I’m so grateful to have you around; you’re amazing!!

Anyway, as usual, all under the cut :D

[DNI if you ship and post about Nae//gami. Block me immediately and leave.]

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Teacup: Do you make things for your F/O often? Do you make them a favorite drink, dessert, etc.?

S/I always offers to do a lot for Byakuya. She loves to bake — so she always offers to make cupcakes and fruit cake (which she has a special family recipe for, ahaha). Byakuya doesn’t really understand the sentiment when she asks him though, often replying with:

“I pay people to do such labour, there is no need to use your time in such a way. I would prefer if you spent your time with me.”

So, S/I resorts to making some of his many cups of coffee he drinks throughout the day.

The morning is basically out of the question with that: S/I always wakes up after Byakuya — often waking up against his chest as he’s reading, coffee already in hand.

It’s very hard to pry herself away from him when they’re together — he’s made time for her; he wants to spend every second of that ensuring she knows he loves her (always showing it in his own — Byakuya type of manner, ahaha).

So she uses classic excuses like “... I think I lost something in the other room!” to go make his coffee for morning tea / the afternoon. Once there was a scenario that went along the lines of:

“I’m just going to make myself a hot chocolate quickly... Be back in a minute!”

“Are you forgetting something?”

“No... I don’t believe so...”

“I will not allow you to use the kettle while that burn on your forearm is still visible.”

“Byakuya... it’s already been 2 months...”

“Well, perhaps I’ll consider letting you use it in another month or so. I don’t want you getting hurt again — especially when I could have prevented it. If you want one, I’ll get you one.”

“Well... I should grab my phone quickly from your bedroom! I would like to show you a picture I took on my walk the other day.”

“It’s almost as if you’re trying to find reasons to excuse yourself from my presence...”

“It’s not that at all, silly! You know I love you, always.”

She’ll give his hand a gentle squeeze and nuzzle into his chest in an attempt to show affirm her point to him.

“Mmhmmm...”

“Fine, fine — don’t give me that ‘Mmhmm’, you well know I love you to pieces. I was just trying to make your coffee; I just wanted to do something nice for you.”

“I see... You don’t need to do such things to prove yourself to me, I can do these things myself, my darling.”

Byakuya has completely caught on to her doing this by now. He sometimes just lets it happen; he knows letting her do it will make her happy. He is really quite charmed about it all, actually. He always thanks her with a kiss and a gentle look (that looks extremely unnatural to anyone else, ahaha).

Latte: What is your home décor like? What does yours and your f/o's place actually look like?

The long-winded context to answer the question:

In what I consider now to be ‘the present time period’ concerning them: they are both attending their high school years in Hope’s Peak, meaning they both live at two separate locations with different home décor.

kinda...

Hope’s Peak provided S/I (like all other students) basic living quarters (a dorm) while having full access over the kitchen and locker rooms and such — fully facilitating her move to Japan to attend there. However, her family didn’t — meaning the only place she really had to stay is the Hope’s Peak dorms.

Byakuya and S/I already knew each other very well from their former high school, Green Hills, and shortly into their first year of Hope’s Peak, got together.

Byakuya was completely against her staying inside of Hope’s Peak all the time alone — always ranting about the dangers of it all. So, he offers for her to take a up a guest room in the Togami mansion — his father doesn’t keep track of the guest room accommodations and it was a much less claustrophobic environment.

That never completely came through, however. S/I always ended up being in Byakuya’s room to sleep and spent most of her time with him there anyway. So ‘Byakuya’s room’ very much became ‘Byakuya and S/I’s room’.

Freya actually answers the question:

Byakuya still has control over what décor goes in, however, S/I will complain about things in his room which are often promptly removed. Most of it is just sleek and black tables, chairs, and closets; no decorations on them outside of a few books Byakuya is reading stacked in a neat pile on his desk and a geometrically decorated picture frame containing an image of both of them back at Green Hills.

S/I does have his walk-in closet where all her Pokémon plushes reside, which he absolutely despises. He only lets them be there because she seems to be so attached to them. He has a black curtain above this area he draws when she isn’t there to hide her... interesting choice of collection...

It doesn’t change the fact he despises the plushes though, and has stated numerous times he’ll be taking them out eventually. I mean — he wonders what the point of them is in the first place. If she wants to hug something, he’s right there? You’re going to choose a plush over your boyfriend? Byakuya doesn’t seem to recognise the fact he doesn’t come off very inviting to hug — she doesn’t like initiating if he hasn’t expressed a want to be affectionate previously.

———————————————————————

Anyway, thank you so much for the ask! I just realised I like to talk way too much, ahaha. I’m sorry I’m late responding — I literally fell asleep drafting this and I just finished my first day back to school!

I hope you have an amazing day 💙💙 Take care!!

[discordantwords]

Don’t know if you are still doing prompts but would love one where someone objected at John and Mary’s wedding. Maybe Sherlock or Harry showing up drunk in the middle? Or David, Mary’s ex? Sholto? Or anything where John kisses Sherlock and neither of them was expecting it. Cue Sherlock shock and John worried he ruin everything.

The Interruption

The music had been timed perfectly. The procession had… proceeded. The guests looked appropriately misty-eyed. Mary was resplendent in vintage lace.

 And John—

 Sherlock swallowed, looked away.

 He distanced himself. Not fully—he could not risk vanishing into his mind palace and losing track of time—but just enough that he could stop himself from flinching when Mary and John joined hands.

 It was, the best possible outcome. Somehow knowing that did not stop him from occasionally imagining a different outcome entirely.

Foolish. He did not have time to waste on impossibilities.

 Mary was clever. She made no effort to dissuade John from the work he did with Sherlock, she at times even seemed to relish joining in. He preferred her to all of the other women that John had wasted time with over the years.

 So this was—fine. It was good.

 The vicar was speaking. Sherlock filtered out the words, let his gaze wander around the crowded church. No one was looking at him strangely, which meant he’d not missed any important cues.

 John was speaking. And Mary. Exchanging sentimental words, no doubt.

 Sherlock shut his eyes, then forced them open. He kept his face blank, impassive. He stared at the back of John’s head and thought about sliding his fingers through the short coarse hairs there.

 Someone gasped. A murmur ran through the crowd. It was not a happy sound, and Sherlock’s blood ran cold. He’d let his guard down. He’d let his mind wander, had let himself imagine impossible things, and now—

 He snapped back to full awareness, fresh data flooding in.

 No one was looking at him. Whatever the problem, he hadn’t caused it.

 There was a man standing up near the back of the church.

 Sherlock looked at him.

(sat near the back to facilitate hasty exit, ex-military, dress uniform, scarred face, all of which pointed to only one possibility: Major James Sholto)

 He’d done extensive research, of course, after Mary’s comment. He knew a good deal about the man (It was only prudent, after all—as Best Man he should be familiar with John’s guests). But none of his research would explain why the man seemed dead set on making a scene.

 No matter. The man was clearly deranged and would need to be escorted out of the church immediately before he dealt additional damage. He stepped forward to do just that, glancing towards John as he did so, and what he saw brought him up short.

 John looked shocked. No, more than shocked. Worse than shocked. He looked anguished. All of the blood had left his face. He’d withdrawn his hand from Mary’s, had clenched it into a tight fist.

 Sherlock hesitated, because he’d stood beside John on the brink of death more than once, and he could not recall ever seeing him make a face like that. The only thing that came close was—

 He shied away from the memory.

 The look on John’s face was not simply the expression of a man irritated at an interruption. It was the stricken look of a man suddenly faced with a ghost from the past, someone significant, possibly a lover.  

 But that was impossible. That would mean—

 The world tilted sideways. Sherlock breathed in, shut his eyes, let the facts rearrange themselves in his mind.

 Posh restaurant. Someone else’s bowtie around his neck, a fake moustache drawn crudely over his lip. Clean white shirt dragging stiff against the fresh dressings on his back. John, looking up from a table to finally meet his eyes. And his face—

 His face.

 He’d missed it. How had he missed it? He’d noted the effect his reappearance had had, of course, he wasn’t blind, and he’d gone ahead and classified that expression as hurt, but hurt was too simple, not nearly enough to cover the breadth of what John’s incredibly expressive face had conveyed with that look.

 And now—

 He snapped back to himself amidst the frantic muttering and humming of the crowd. John was gone from his side. Mary was gone too.

 He was alone at the altar.

 He scanned the crowd, but Sholto had disappeared. That told him nothing. Stupid. Stupid. He had no idea if Sholto had left or been escorted out or had disappeared somewhere with John. He’d wasted valuable time thinking about things he could not change and now—

 He darted up the aisle towards the doors, tried to deduce the most likely path John would have taken.

 The back rooms, of course. Where John put on his suit jacket and donned his hat, where he’d stood staring at himself in the mirror and carefully avoiding meeting Sherlock’s eye.

 And—oh—Sherlock had noticed, of course he’d noticed. But he’d thought: nerves, and he’d been preoccupied thinking about all of the ways his life would change and all of the ways that it wouldn’t.

 Alone. Always, always alone. And that was how he preferred it.

Wasn’t it?

 The door was shut. He opened it, perhaps a bit vigorously—it rebounded against the wall and swung back, almost striking him in the face.

 John and Sholto—not Mary, Sholto—snapped their heads up to look at him. They were standing close, very close, clearly they’d been deep in the midst of some serious discussion.

 John cleared his throat. His eyes were red-rimmed and a little wild.

 "Is everything all right?“ Sherlock asked, his voice flat, level. He shot a pointed look in Sholto’s direction.

 "Is everything—” John breathed, and then laughed. It was not a happy sound. “No. Everything is not bloody all right. Not by a mile.”

 "I am sorry,“ Sholto said, and to his credit he did look convincingly contrite. "I don’t know what came over me. I never should have come.”

 John laughed again, turned away from both of them. His hand clenched and unclenched rhythmically.

 "I think it’s best if I go,“ Sholto said to John’s rigid back. He glanced at Sherlock, then away. Then he nodded, a sharp little jerk of his chin (and there was enough of John in that motion that it nearly brought Sherlock to his knees), and left the room.

 Sherlock swallowed, waited for John to speak.

 Silence fell between them.

 "Shall I—tell the vicar you need a few moments?” he tried.

 John whirled around, his face contorted. “A few moments. You want to tell the vicar—Sherlock, what the hell is wrong with you?”

 That seemed to be a rhetorical question. Sherlock remained silent.

 "Where is Mary?“ John asked, finally.

 "I don’t know,” Sherlock admitted. He looked down at the ground, then rallied. “Would you like me to find her?”

 "No,“ John said, and the anger had bled out of his voice. "Not yet. Just—oh, fuck.”

 Sherlock watched him warily.

 "This is the sort of thing that happens in films,“ John said. There was a weary humour in his voice now. "Last minute declarations, and all that. It’s not nearly as romantic as they’d have you believe.”

 Romantic.

 Sherlock swallowed, nodded, though he had absolutely no idea what John was talking about.

 "Surely you’ve worked it out by now,“ John said. Bitterness had crept into his voice.

 "Your ex commander,” Sherlock said, speaking slowly. “And your… ex.”

 "Smartest man in the room, right here,“ John said. His mouth tightened.

 "And he was—hoping you still felt the same?”

 "He swears he didn’t meant to,“ John said. He looked up at the ceiling, shut his eyes. "That he’d fully intended to come and wish me well, but then he just—”

 Sherlock swallowed again. His face was hot. He very much wanted to flee. “I’ll go get Mary.”

 "Christ,“ John said. "No. Didn’t you hear me? I can't—not right now.”

 "She’ll be wondering what’s going on.“

 "It’s pretty obvious what’s going on.”

 "No,“ Sherlock said, feeling slow and helpless and stupid. "It’s very much not.”

 John looked at him. “What do you mean?”

 "Well,“ Sherlock said. "It’s your wedding day. An—old flame—” he nearly choked on the words, “—interrupted the ceremony in order to attempt to win back your favour.”

 John blinked, shook his head. He looked more amused than horrified, which seemed a step in the right direction.

 "As he’s left—" Sherlock said, and he offered an exaggerated glance around the empty little room, “I can only assume that you don’t return his affections. That whatever there was between you has—um—cooled. Naturally what should follow is a reaffirmation of the affections you do feel, for—um—the person you feel them for. In this case, Mary.”

 John smiled at him. It was a sad smile, which made very little sense.

 "Yeah,“ John said, finally, after far too much time had passed. He held Sherlock’s gaze. "Mary.”

 "Then I’ll just—" Sherlock turned towards the door, his heart in his throat.

 "Wait,“ John said.

 Sherlock stopped. He was trembling. He did not know why. He wished it would stop.

 "Did you know?”

 "Probably,“ Sherlock said, and then relented. "Did I know what?”

 "About him.“

 Sherlock’s mouth went dry. "No,” he admitted.

 "We were very close,“ John said. "For a while. And it was—yeah—it was wartime, you know? So everything was a bit—erm—”

 "Good,“ Sherlock said. He clapped his hands together. "Excellent. There’s no need for additional detail.”

 "But it’s over,“ John said. "Has been for—Christ, I haven’t even spoken to him in years. I don’t know why I invited him, seems a bit cruel now in retrospect, but I guess I just wanted to—I just wanted—”

 Sherlock waited.

 "Look, after things ended—um—I’m not good at this, yeah? You know that. I don't—I don’t talk about this stuff.“

 "With good reason.”

 John huffed a laugh, shook his head. “After—him. There’s only one person in my life that I’ve ever felt that strongly about,” John said. “And that’s not even—there’s no comparison, really.”

 "Mary Morstan,“ Sherlock said, and wasn’t this all getting a bit tedious? John was all set to marry the woman, obviously his feelings for her were stronger than whatever he’d shared with Sholto.

 "No,” John said, his voice so soft that it might have been a whisper. “Not exactly.”

 Sherlock’s hands shook. He folded them behind him, bounced on the balls of his feet. Frowned. “You’re not making sense. Have you been drugged?”

 "What? No,“ John said. He took a step forward, his face terribly earnest.

 Sherlock could smell him; cologne and flowers and nervous sweat.

 "Look,” John said. He licked his lips, looked away. “I’m not—if I'm—if this is. Um. Not something you want to hear, then I swear I’ll never mention it again. But this wedding is fucked anyway, and I just—”

 Sherlock tilted his head, watched him curiously.

 "Just—" John said. He clenched his fists, breathed out through his nose. “You,” he said.

 "Sorry?“

 ”You. It’s bloody you, all right? It’s always been you. From the first moment I saw you in that lab, and you just—you were just so—" John made a frustrated sound, looked away. “You were the most amazing thing I’d ever seen. Still are.”

 "John,“ Sherlock said, his voice emerging much too thin and shaky. "What, exactly, are you trying to say?”

 “Can’t you deduce it?“ John asked. "Do you really have to make me say it?”

 "I—"

 "Oh for—" John took another deep breath. “Look, I just have to know. Before I—before I do anything else. Do you think—did you ever think—that something might—that we might—”

 Sherlock blinked. Blinked again.

 John couldn’t be saying what it sounded like he was saying. He couldn’t be—

 The look on his face, that night at the Landmark.

 Sherlock shut his eyes, sucked in a shuddering breath. “I find the thought occupies a terrifying amount of my mind.”

 "Yeah?“ John’s voice had gone soft again. He sounded very close.

 Sherlock nodded. He did not open his eyes. "Yes.”

 "Okay,“ John said. His breath ghosted over Sherlock’s lips. Sherlock shivered. "Okay. Um. What are we—what, exactly, do you want to do about that?”

 Sherlock opened his eyes and froze. John’s face was only a few inches away.

 He had no idea what to do. What to say.

“I—” he said. He swallowed, tried again. “I—”

 "I’m going to call off the wedding,“ John said. He lifted his hand, pressed his palm against Sherlock’s cheek, just for a moment. His fingers were cool against Sherlock’s heated skin. "All right? And then we’ll talk.”

 "Are you sure?“

 "Yeah,” John said. There was a smile curving at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I'm—I’m sure.”

 "Oh,“ Sherlock said. He felt a bit breathless. "All right.”

 "All right,“ John echoed. He dropped his hand from Sherlock’s cheek, smiled. It was a bright smile, unfettered, joyful. It lifted years from his face. "All right, good.”

 "Should I—um—" Sherlock hesitated, looked around the room. His brain had not come back online and he felt sluggish, helpless.

 "Go home,“ John said. "This is going to take a while, I think, and, um. I’m going to want—” he paused, shook his head. He was still smiling. “I’ll see you there. At Baker Street.”

 "Home,“ Sherlock said.

 "Yeah,” John said. “Home.”

[snow-whiteandred-rose]

Hello can I make a request where the reader is on vacation in Malta while BTS is there for Bon Voyage s3 and they end up crossing paths with each other (and maybe fall in love🥴)

A/N: Sure, I´m sorry it took a few days, but here it is. Hope you enjoy it! Vanessa :) Word Count: 4,4k

-Picture is not mine-

Namjoon

You sat in a Café at the shopping mall and enjoyed your iced coffee. It was a hustle and bustle in there because everyone escaped from the hot weather outside, so did you. During lunch time it was hell. Next to you were two guys who browsed through the travel guide and looked visibly overwhelmed. The one who stabbed you in the eye was tall and had light blond hair which matched perfectly with his skin tone. He wore a red shirt and a short jeans. His sunglasses rested on his forehead to keep his hair out of his face. “We can go to the war museum first and after that we could watch the canons...” he said to the other. “But isn't that a detour? We also have the next days to go to the museum. We shouldn’t stress ourselves, Namjoon.” “You are right... Hugh..that’s more difficult than writing songs.” “Do you need some help?” You asked them and both looked in your direction,” I didn't mean to interfere. But I thought you might need some help. I live here and I can give you some recommendations if you like.” “That would be really great, thank you.” Namjoon smiled at you and you got a warm feeling in your stomach. The next twenty minutes you spent with browsing through the travel guide together and you made them a schedule at what daytimes it was perfect to see everything so they will never had the problem that the places were too crowded. “Thank you very much. Now we are well prepared!” “You’re welcome, I love it to be a travel guide,” you smiled and Namjoon started to search in his pocket for something. When he found a note and a pencil he wrote his name and his number on it. “I would be happy when you text me if you have more recommendations or insider Tipps. It’s also good to have someone around who knows the ropes.” “Oh yeah sure, I will text you,” you answered and the two guys stood up to continue their path. They already went a few steps before Namjoon looked back to you and said:”I also would be happy if you could text me when you want to drink a coffee with me.” “I will. You can count on it,” you smiled and waved.

-Picture is not mine-

Seokjin

You worked at a restaurant in Valetta. Summer time was tourism time so you had always full house. A calming evening or time to breath was rare. So you enjoyed every minute you could take a breath or got a little bit distracted. Normally all people were distant and in their own world. They just wanted to have a relaxed evening after they discovered the city. Time to time it happened that somebody engaged you in a conversation but you never felt comfortable with it. You weren’t an introvert person but for you the chemistry had to be right so that you could talk relaxed with someone you didn’t know. This evening a guy took your attention. You couldn’t miss him because his whole appearance was conspicuous. He wore a pink mapped shirt and a tie but the crowning glory was his straw hat. You had to be very confident to wear something like this. Of course all people looked at his outfit but he didn’t care. That was something you found really attractive. For him it didn’t matter what the others were thinking as long as he felt alright. It also seemed like he was part of a reality show because he had a camera with him and talked with them all the time. Because he sat in your area it was your job to take his order. “Hey, can I take your order?” You asked him. “Yes, I like to eat the shrimps and tortellinis. And two tequila, please,”he answered and you admired his efforts to speak in English. “You are really good in speaking English,”You complimented him. “Thank you,” he said and added laughing ,”do you know BTS?” “I have heard about them but I don’t know them at all.” “I have to watch the videos, they are really good and you can’t miss Mr. Worldwide handsome,” he did advertise. “Thanks for the recommendation. I will look at them later. I’m sorry I have to get back to work but it was nice talking to you,” you said and went back to the kitchen. As much as you wanted to talk with him more you had to do your work at first. Everything else could wait. When your shift was slowly coming to an end you noticed that he was still at the restaurant and talked with the people and the camera. He was just about to drink his tequila and you could just frown your brows about his technique. At first he drank the tequila, about 4 seconds later he bit into the lemon and then he licked the salt. You used this chance to start a new conversation. “Okay I can't watch this. So what do you mean, I will teach you the right way to drink tequila and you show me the handsome guy?” You sat next to him. “I wouldn’t say no to that. Gladly I know Mr. Worldwide handsome very well.” Jin answered and laughed.

Yoongi

You had a fight with your best friend and needed a few hours on your own to digest everything. Of course it happened sometimes that you hadn’t the same opinion, that’s life, but it still didn’t let you go. That’s the reason why you came to the Irish Pub. Sometimes everything became better with a shot and you already had the feeling that your mind did relax and you could think about anything else than the fight. But it only lasted as long until you felt an uncomfortable presence right beside you. It started with the two men just looking at you but you kept your eyes on your glass. After approximately 10 minutes the guys came to your desk and started to talk with you but it was that type of conversation you wanted to over soon. “Hey sweetheart, why is someone so beautiful alone here? Your friend should take better care of you, it is really dangerous when it gets dark,” one of them told you in a disgustingly sweet sound “I appreciate your concern, but I can take care of myself,” you answered and tried to ignore them. “I wouldn't doubt it but don’t you think it's boring alone? Why won't you join us for a drink? At the hotel we have a big suite all to ourselves.” “Thank you, no!” You said cold. Unfortunately they were two of the stubborn kind and did not let go. “Oh, come on, sweetie. We could have a lot of fun.” The other one said and you felt a hand on your arm causing you to tense up. “I think she has made it very clear to you that she wants to be left alone.” Suddenly a deep voice sounded behind you. You turned around and saw a guy approximately your age with a dark shirt and black head. He looked at the other guys like a cat that sneaked up. “What kind of guy are you? I don't remember talking to you. This sweetie here is just a little uptight, but she'll get over it,”one of the obtrusive guys said. “Get the hell out of here and leave her alone or we'll sort it out another way,” your rescuer said and grabs one by the collar. “Keep calm! We are already leaving.” The two guys said and you started to breath again when they left the bar. “Oh my god, thank you so much,”You said to guy in black. “You’re welcome, I don't like it when men disrespect women as if they were nothing. Are you okay?” “I’m fine. There are not many people who stand up against someone. Most people just look the other way. I can't thank you enough,” you said and gave him a short peck on his cheek. You were surprised by yourself because normally you didn’t do something like this but you were so facilitated. Your peck caused him to blush a bit. “I know I just rescued you from the guys but I would feel better when you join me and my friend so that we could take care of you.” He pointed in the direction of his friend, also in black clothes and a hat. His big deer eyes looked in your direction and you couldn’t help but to smile softly and wave him. “Honestly I would really love it and it would make me feel better also,”You said with a smile. “Then you are invited to drink with us. I’m Yoongi by the way and that’s my friend Jungkook.” He said and pated Jungkook on the back. “Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.”

-Picture is not mine-

Hobi

Every week when you werer doing the weekly groceries you asked yourself: Why do all old people had to do their shopping at the evening when they had time the whole day. It was a mystery but something you had to deal with. Of course the supermarket was full when you arrived there and you where already stressed. Annoyed you took a shopping card and searched for the list in your bag when you felt a push from behind causing you to fell against the card. “Ouch,” You whined because you hurt your ankle and when you realized that you crashed again into another card yours,” I’m sorry, that wasn’t my intention. Somebody just pushed their way through.” “Everything is fine. Don’t worry, that can happen in a full supermarket,” a friendly voice said and you noticed the guy you crashed with. He wore a sunhat and light blue sunglasses to which he wore the matching t-shirt. The light colour was a contrast to his complexion. You had the feeling that he was the sunshine in person such an positive aura surrounded him. You smiled to him before you continued your path or you tried. When you walked through the shelves you noticed the pain in your ankle again so you could just hobble. You hadn’t realized that you made such a big twist and of course all stuff you needed stood on the top of the shelve. You tried your best but you couldn't reach the box. Suddenly another arm appeared beside you and helped to pick the box. Surprised you looked to your left and saw the guy from a few minutes before. “Oh, thank you so much. Why do they have to put everything important so high up?” You asked rhetorically. “That’s a good question, I think they hope that they will have to refill the shelves upstairs less, because they all reach down first.” You two walked down the hall together when he noticed your limp. “Is your foot alright?” He asked you and you saw his worried gaze on your foot. “It’s okay, I think it will be better in the next hour. It happened when somebody pushed me a few minutes ago.” “I'm not so sure, it looks a little swollen. Let me help you with the groceries and then we'll go to the hospital together,” he said and it sounded less like a question than a statement. “Hobi I found the...” another tall guy appeared and a stopped when he saw you two. “Namjoon our plans have changed. We help her with the shopping and then I will go with her to a doctor. Maybe you can call the members to inform them.” He talked to the other guy. “You really don't have to help me. I'm fine. You don't even know me.” You butt in. You didn't want him to change his plans just for you. “Right, how rude. I'm a Hobi. At least now you know my name, and we'll get to know each other even better in the next few hours,” he smiled and hooked you in.

Jimin

Summer in Malta was really hot but that didn’t keep you from exploring the city and doing all the sightseeing stuff. Of course you had a detailed plan what you wanted to see. You had almost all things done from your list except for one thing: seeing the canon shoot. It was a spectacle you could see twice a day. You didn’t know why but until today it just didn't work out that you were there at the right time. But today was perfect. The best view was from the opposite side of the castle but you weren’t the only one who knew this. Nearly all tourists watched the shoots from this side of the sea. So you planned your time that you arrived there twenty minutes earlier to make sure you had a great place to see. The fire started exactly at 4 pm and although it was just one shot, it was worth the time. After it you rested there a view minutes and enjoyed the view over the city. “Here we are. It has to start soon,” you heard an excited voice next to you and looked after it. Two boys stood next to you and looked to the opposite side of the sea. One of them was completely dressed in black and also wore a black hat. You could only see a few strands of his pink hair. The other one wore a light jeans shirt and short beige trousers. His hair was dyed in a light ash blond which perfectly matched with his honey colored Teint. “I hope so Hyung, my foots hurt,” the other one whined. After a few minutes where still nothing has happened the first one became nervous and looked on his phone. “I don’t understand it, we were punctual.” Because both looked really sympathetically you decided to help them. “Are you two waiting for the canons?” You asked them. The guy with the black hat just looked at you with his big deer eyes and nodded shyly. “You are a few minutes to late, they already shooted. The next time is tomorrow morning.” “Oh no, really? That’s a pity. But then we have time to go to the museum, jungkookie.” The guy with the honey skin said to the other one. “But why? I can’t understand it... you can also see it when you search on google.” You frown your eyebrows. “Yes, but that’s not the same,” you both said at the same time and the other guy showed you his smile which made you blush. “Have you been there already?” “No, actually not yet, but that was next on my list,” you answered. “So what do you think? Would you like to join us? It would please me if at least one person would be interested in it” “Oh yes i would love it, if that’s okay for you both,” you answered also in the direction of the other guy who wanted to talk in the moment but the other one started to speak. “He’s totally fine with it. So I’m Jimin and that’s Jungkook.” “Nice to meet you two, I’m Y/N.” The three of you started to walk down the hill. “You owe me for that Hyung!” Jungkook whispered to Jimin and the sound of his smile was the best noise you heard that day.

Taehyung

It were the last days at Malta so it was time to enjoy the nightlife of the city with your best friend. It was unique how locations looked different at different times. Also it was really interesting how the paths of strangers could cross again and again until they speak to each other. It felt like the fate wanted to reunite you two. The first time you saw him this evening was when you went to the big fountain with your friend. You were just about to threw a coin in the fountain, the typical superstition all tourists believe in, when you saw a blond guy with a bandana and black clothes. You didn’t know why but you just couldn't look away, he kept attracting your attention. He and his friend were fooling around at the fountain, just like you and your friend, taking pictures. Their interactions made you smile. The second time you saw them was when you two went to the restaurant. They arrived just a few minutes after you ordered. Of course they sat behind you and of course your friend sat back to back to his friend that you had to look straight in his direction. While you planned what you wanted to do the rest of the evening your neighbors started to make pictures in funny poses and laughed when they looked at them. As your eyes wandered to him once again, he caught you and smiled. You had to confess that it was the most beautiful smile you had ever seen, because his whole face started to glow. You blushed and looked quickly back on your plate. „Are you alright?“ your friend asked you. „Yes, what should be?“ you answered hypocritical but she frowned her brows and turned around just to look at the other guys. Of course her move didn’t remain undiscovered. You kicked her in the shins and she made a face. „Ouch! That did hurt!“ she whined. „I don’t know what you mean,“ you smiled innocent. After you finished eating you walked through the city and rested a bit at a viewing platform. You had read that there should be a firework which you wanted to see. It wasn’t surprising that the handsome guys were also there. They stood right beside you and it felt a bit like you watched the fireworks together even when you didn’t talk to another. When it came to an end you felt his gaze and looked at him. „And what are we looking at now? I had a feeling we'd meet there again anyway. So what's the plan?“ he asked and you smiled. Sometimes everything fell into place all by itself.

Jungkook

It was a mild summer night and there was nothing more perfect than busking at a warm night. When it became dark and the nightlife started and all people enjoyed the feeling of a cool breeze on their skin. You were on your way to the public plaza you loved so much, surrounded by restaurants and bars when you noticed the young guy at the corner of the street which looked disorientated on his phone. You watched as he walked a few steps just to look at the name of the street and his phone again. It was obviously that he didn’t has a clue where he was. “Hey do you need some help?” You asked him and smiled softly. He just looked at you with his big eyes and you had the feeling that you could nearly looked at his innocent soul. He wore a black hat and a few wisps of his light red hair come out. He had a cute little snubnose but the most attractive you found this cheekbones and his strong jawline. After a few seconds he noticed that he still hadn’t answered and stuttered:”I search this place.” He showed you the map of his phone. “You are lucky I need to go to the same place, so we can go together if you like?” He nodded and you two started to walk up the hill. You didn’t know why but everything about him made you like him already even if he hadn’t talked much. But you were sure that there was more behind his facade. “So how is your evening?” You asked him. “I was in a pub with my Hyung, but he went back home. I saw somebody busking a few minutes ago and now I have the desire to do the same,” he said shy. “Then we have something in common again,” You smiled at him. “Oh are you a singer?” “Not really... I just do it as a hobby now and then. And you?” “Something like that yeah.. but as a hobby it is also cool,” he said and showed his bunny smile for the first time and you had the feeling that you were already falling in love. Okay what’s going on with you? Actually something like that never went so fast with you, but he simply gave you a comfortable feeling when you looked at him. “Oh really? A big audience and so on?” “yes, you might say that.” That was the point you noticed a turn in his charm and he became confident. “Then I'm excited about the show. Now I have high expectations.” You smiled wide and touched his shoulders lightly. “I'm happy to do it. I’m Jungkook by the way.”

[walkerismychoice]

Unwritten - Chapter 2

Book: Platinum

Pairing: M!Raleigh X MC

Rating: This series will contain mature themes. Any necessary warnings will be listed before each chapter, but the overall series rating is 18+

Series Summary: Newly discovered talent Aria Campbell get unknowingly assigned to help write Raleigh Carerra’s latest album and rehabilitate his image in the process.

Summary:  Aria and Raleigh start settling into the beach house. Things could be going better.

Word Count: 1868

Master List

Kidz Bop?! Aria can't decide if she's more mortified or pissed off at Raleigh's response to the prospect of writing his album with her. At 22, she can't be more than 5 years younger than him, maybe less, but she hasn't kept up with his personal details other than catching an occasional tabloid headline. And sure, she might be from a small Midwestern town, but between her outfit, an off the shoulder royal blue top and distressed black jeans, and her long, wavy black hair, she thinks she comes off as cool but not trying too hard. But what if the fact that she thinks that means she's not cool at all? Whatever. Maybe she should just slap a big snake tattoo on her neck and then Raleigh would respect her. Does he think all those dumb tattoos make him edgy? His tattoos are kind of hot though....No, scrub that thought. Raleigh Carerra is proving to be nothing more than the arrogant bad boy the media makes him out to be.

"Okay then..." Aria mutters under her breath, more of a question than a statement.

Fiona glares towards the Escalade. "Just hold on." She charges forward and tries to open Raleigh's door, but of course it's locked. "Hank!" she calls out but he's already anticipating what she wants, unlocking the doors before she asks, and she flings the door open. "Raleigh, get out of the car."

Raleigh scoffs, "I'd rather quit making music than write this sell-out album just to make the label more money. I don't need any of this."

"Have you forgotten that Ellis and the legal team at Overknight Records helped keep you out of jail? It's not too late for charges to be filed. This was the deal. You make this last record, redeem your image, and then you can do whatever the hell you want. Until then, you are going to apologize to this very talented young woman, and then get your ass in that house and start writing with her. Unless you want a felony on your record. You wouldn't look so bad in orange I suppose..."

"Oh, fuck off, Fiona," Raleigh grumbles as he gets back out of the car.

"I'd be glad to, but if you remember our contract, I don't get my bonus until you finish this album. The sooner you finish, the sooner you can be rid of me nagging you all the time. So like I said, get a move on. Oh! Before I forget..." Fiona reaches in her pocket and hands Aria a key and and an archaic looking cell phone and then does the same for Raleigh.

"The fuck is this? I didn't know they still made these." Raleigh pries open the basic flip phone, navigating the limited features. He attempts to key in a number before frustration sets in and he seems about ready to chuck the phone into the ocean. "This piece of shit doesn't text or dial out."

Fiona smiles smugly as the scene unfolds. "Oh it works perfectly fine...but only for approved, pre-programmed numbers."

Curious as to who's in her list, Aria powers up her phone and checks the contacts. Her mom, dad, and sister, as expected, along with some professional contacts including Hank and Fiona. She's pleasantly surprised they included Shane as well. Aria had put him as one of her emergency contacts, so they must trust her judgement as far as he's concerned. Her nerves start to settle ever so slightly with this lifeline.

Looking at his list, Raleigh scoffs and snaps the phone shut. "Is this a joke?" His hardened features are a bit disconcerting, piquing Aria's curiosity.

"I can assure you each of your lists was carefully selected to facilitate your creative process. Now, I'll leave you both to it." Fiona turns and heads in the opposite direction of the beach house.

"Where are you going?" Aria asks, concern creeping into her voice. Normally she doesn't need someone to hold her hand, but these aren't normal circumstances, and she's not quite ready for Fiona to leave her alone. She kind of feels like a kindergartner being dropped off for her first day of school to be honest.

"To the guest house. Where Frank and I are staying," Fiona replies.

"I knew there was something going on between you two." Raleigh chimes in with a devilish grin.

Hank coughs. "That would be unprofessional."

"There are two bedrooms," Fiona adds, rolling her eyes.

Now Aria's panicking a little inside. Or maybe a lot. She's expected to stay alone with this very intimidating celebrity who very well may hate her already?

"Wouldn't it make more sense for us all to stay together? The main house is more than big enough," she suggests .

Fiona lets out a terse laugh. "No. Absolutely not. It's enough that Hank and I have to stay and babysit to ensure this project gets done. We can't be bothered by singing and music playing at all hours. Think of it as a gift that you won't have to consider our sleeping habits while you work."

"I don't care who stays where, but I just need to know where my bed is at. It's 11am, and I should still be sleeping for at least a few more hours yet." Raleigh tilts his head towards the back of the truck, directing Hank. "You can bring my bags to my room." He takes off, the scent of alcohol hanging in the air as he passes.

Must be nice to order people around like that, Aria thinks as she reaches for the bags in the trunk. She's not too good to carry her own luggage.

"Ms. Campbell," Hank places a hand on her arm to stop her. "That's not necessary. Why don't you go inside and start settling in while I bring in your things."

Well, he is offering. It would be rude to turn him down, wouldn't it? Aria follows Raleigh into the house, and not wanting to ruffle any feathers more than she has merely just for existing in his space, she stands back and allows him to select his room first.

While she waits, Aria takes a look around. Although the exterior style of the home hints at its age, the inner design is exactly as modern and kept up as Aria would expect at a place where celebrities stay, with lots of white, shades of blue and blue-green accents, and nautical themed decor scattered about.

In the great room stands a gorgeous white baby grand piano that probably, no definitely, costs more than everything Aria owns combined. Aria steps over, gently striking a key, and for the first time since she signed the contract, begins to allow herself to get excited about making music here.

"Ms. Campbell?" Hank breaks Aria's chain of thought. "Where would you like me to put your things?"

"Oh...I need to pick out my room." She jogs up the stairs ans Hank follows. There are 6 rooms total, three on either side of the corridor. The first two are a bit smaller with bunk beds, so Aria counts them out, but the next two have promise.

As she approaches the last pair, one door is slightly, ajar and she notices Raleigh passed out face down and snoring on the bed already. Of course he would choose the master bedroom for himself, but as Aria looks at the remaining bedroom, she doesn't really mind. Although she considers taking one of the bunk bed rooms just to be as far from him as possible, she cant resist the spacious yet cozy space with a king-size bed and seaside view.

"I'll take this one." Aria directs Frank and he gently places her suitcases on the floor before excusing himself.

Aria kicks of her sandals and plops on the bed, staring up at the textured ceiling. Now that she's alone, she has no idea what to do with herself. Obviously getting straight to work with Raleigh is out of the question but that doesn't mean she cant try to get started. Pulling out her song journal, she stares at a blank page and laughs because if she doesn't laugh, she might cry. To say she's overwhelmed would he an understatement, and if she hadn't signed a contract, she might be calling her mom to come pick her up, proving to be a failure once again. At least their's a binding piece of paper to keep her from quitting this time. Maybe a walk on the beach is what she needs to pull herself together.

It's a typical June day, warm and sunny but not scorchingly hot, and a light breeze brings gentle waves rolling ashore, not quite reaching the hem of her rolled up jeans as Aria dips her toes in. She closes her eyes, taking in the smell of the salty sea air. The only sounds to be heard on the deserted stretch of private beach are the water crashing against the sand and some seagulls chattering in the distance. If not quite inspiration yet, the ocean is at least bringing a sense of calm, an escape she'll have when she needs it.

Aria wades around, walks up and down the oceanfront a few times before deciding she should probably go face reality. That or at least go get some food since her stomach is grumbling, and it's likely well past lunch time. She meanders to the kitchen and opens up the refrigerator, delighted to see its been fully stocked, and settles on some sandwich fixings.

"Ahh!" She let's out a startled yelp as she whirls around to place her items on the kitchen island only to be stopped short as she crashes into a tall figure.

"Easy there, Chiquita," Raleigh grasps Aria's arms to steady her. "You might want to watch where you're going."

Momentarily mesmerized by his firm grip and the sparkle in his eyes, Aria shakes free and comes to her senses. She's too annoyed at the moment to be intimidated by his star status or won over by his charms. "You could clearly see me here and anticipate where I'd be headed. And my name is Aria." She plunks the food down on the counter with a thud for emphasis.

"But you're so small." Raleigh pats her on the head.

There's a time and a place for cutesy nicknames, but this is so not it. "Again, my name is Aria, and as your colleague, I ask you to refer to me by my given name." She should stop there but she can't help herself. "And for your information, I'm average height."

Raleigh shrugs. "Well you're still shorter than me...Anyway, what's for breakfast? I'm famished."

Aria rolls her eyes with a huff, already mid preparation. "I'm making myself a sandwich for lunch. What you decide to make yourself isn't really my concern."

Raleigh chuckles. "You're feistier than I thought. I like it."

Her cheeks are burning and she lies to herself that it's all out of anger. Without another word she finishes up and scurries upstairs to eat and stew in her room in peace. Raleigh Carrera won't get the best of her today. At least not that she'll let him see.

[elsanna-shenanigans]

December Contest Submission #13: Shadow Dancing

Words: ca. 4500 Setting: Babylon 5/Legends of Tomorrow AU Lemon: Not full lemon, but citrus C/W: None

Day 0

Elsa stood at the transport gates with Anna, holding one of her carry-ons. The PA overhead crackled to life. “Virgin Galactic Flight 1840 from Mars Colony to New Ahtohallan Colony boards at Gate C7. All passengers must have Identicards with them at all times,” the pleasant monotone droned, causing Elsa to wince from the sheer volume of it.

She turned to regard her sister, who was bouncing with excitement. “Elsa, don’t look so glum! I won’t be gone that long, okay?” she beamed, hugging her tightly, her green plaid shirt wrinkling in the hug.

The overhead PA called Anna’s flight. She grabbed her Interplanetary Expeditions carry-on from Elsa with an eager smile. “Hey, I’ll be back soon enough, and then you can tell me what it was you wanted to talk about this morning, okay? See you in two weeks.”

“Do you have to go?” Elsa asked plaintively, looking out the window at the starships lined up on the runway, ruddy from Mars’ red skies.

“You’ll be fine, Elsa,” she grinned, giving her sister a peck on the cheek.

“Anna… I love you. I-”

“I love you too, sis!” Anna shouted as she flounced down the boarding area, nearly colliding with a dozen other passengers as she tried to both wave to her sister and dig her holographic ID out of her purse.

Elsa sighed as her sister scanned her boarding pass and entered the spaceway. I’m in love with you, she thought, completing the sentence that stuck in her throat. I’ll confess everything when she gets back.

Day 1

Elsa sat in abject shock as the wallscreen in her tiny apartment’s living room played the news on endless repeat. The computer-generated newscaster re-read the story again.

“Virgin Galactic Flight 1840 went missing earlier today, failing to check in at the transfer point on Io. Patrol ships from Ganymede were unable to find any evidence of foul play, and security forces from Mars Colony are en route to assist with the investigation.”

I’m sure everything’s fine. Maybe their transponder just broke and they jumped normally. Anna will call me when she gets to New Ahtohallan tomorrow.

Day 3

Anna never called.

Day 7

“Earthforce patrols still have not located Flight 1840; Governor Montoya told ISN News earlier today that Mars Colony has declared it lost and called off search efforts.”

Elsa sat on the couch, sobbing into her hands. She’d barely slept for a week, eaten nothing, and just watched ISN for any word of her sister.

Declared lost, she repeated over and over again; whether in her mind or aloud, she couldn’t tell.

Day 21

The memorial service was small and quiet; she’d paid enough to get holographic bandwidth on Stellarcom so that her parents could virtually attend. They consoled her as best as they could while processing their own grief.

“There’s so much I didn’t tell her, Papa. So much I left unsaid,” she cried softly.

Her father reached out as though to pat her on the shoulder, the gesture futile. “Were your last words in anger, Elsa?” he asked quietly, his arm around his wife’s waist.

“No, no, of course not. The last thing I told her was that I loved her,” she sniffled.

Iduna gave Elsa a small, sympathetic smile. “That’s all that matters, dear. Whatever happened to her, she knows you love her. We all love her. And we’ll hold out hope that perhaps there’s something mysterious at work, and maybe she’ll return to us one day somehow.”

Day 30

Elsa touched the holographic screen at her workstation with a heavy sigh, closing down her cybernetics work for the day. As one of the top cybernetics experts at Edgars Industries, she helped build the most advanced AI for Earthforce starships. Prior to the incident, she’d loved her work, designing and building the most complex, elegant neural architectures that could steer ships through the chaos of hyperspace or dance like butterflies during the fog of war. She’d had almost a month of personal leave to deal with Anna’s disappearance, but had to get back to work eventually, and now every day felt like drudgery, her mind lost in a fog of fading memories she desperately tried to hold onto.

As she walked the streets of Solis Planum to the surface transit tubes, ad after ad assaulted her, from pharmaceuticals to robotic servants to seedy brothels. She rolled her eyes at most of the ads, but one caught her eye in the transit shuttle from the AVA Corporation.

“Our new Enhanced Labor Service Androids can ease your stress and give you more time back in your day. Stop struggling and working 25 hours a day. With our E.L.S.A.s, help is never far away! Call now or stop by our showroom on Syria Planum,” the ad blared. Elsa chuckled slightly at the name of the machines, but looked more closely at the models shown. One had its artificial hair colored and braided just like Anna’s…

Day 61

“Ah yes, Miss… Agnarsdottir. You called us about our E.L.S.A. models?”, an overly slick salesman with greased-back red hair and absurd sideburns greeted her, electronic clipboard in hand.

Elsa nodded, her shyness making her cringe. “I… I was interested in a model that could support custom code. Do you have any?”

The salesman arched his eyebrow at her. “Well… yes, we do have some more elite models like the N-9 that can support… customization. But pardon me for saying so, those are very… expensive. I’m not sure that they’d be the best fit for someone like you,” he oozed condescendingly, eyeing her casual state of dress.

Elsa rolled her eyes and waved her Identicard over his clipboard. The display immediately flashed her name and public financial history, with a “NO CREDIT LIMIT” indicator pulsing on the customer form. “That should be more than satisfactory, Mr…?”

The salesman coughed. “Err… yes, yes it is. And it’s Hans, Hans Westergaard, Miss Agnarsdottir. Now,” he grinned rapaciously, visions of fat commissions dancing in his mind’s eye. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

“I need a model that has the processing power to support a custom neural model and as much storage as possible.”

Hans whistled and made a show of tapping on his clipboard. “I see. Well, we have some of the N-8 LMDs available with added processing power, but if you want the best of the best, you’ll be wanting an E.L.S.A. N-9. Will you be using it for business or pleasure?”

Elsa’s stomach lurched at the salesman’s intimation. “Why would that make a difference?”

“Oh, well, you know, some people need them to be a little more… fully functional, if you know what I mean. Anatomically correct,” he smirked. “Of course we want to make sure all our customers are fully… satisfied. Most of our customers who just need menial labor don’t bother with details like anatomy, but I’m guessing if you need neural support, you probably want… fine detail,” he winked at Elsa. “I have one of the N-9s and believe me, if you’re after, ahem, pleasure, they certainly satisfy.”

Elsa managed not to throw up in her mouth and grabbed the clipboard out of Hans’ sweaty hands. She tapped in her order exactly and handed it back to him. “Don’t say another word.”

He naturally began to speak, and Elsa immediately shushed him. “Not. Another. Word. Authorize the purchase, collect the commission of a lifetime, and then never speak to me again, are we clear? Nod if you agree.”

Hans mutely nodded, angered by the woman’s boldness, but cowed by the fact that the commission on the order was larger than any sale he had ever made thus far. He entered in a few final details, silently authorized the sale, the board turned green, and he walked away, fuming.

Day 102

The massive shipping crate from AVA Corporation rested on her apartment doorstep. She wheeled it inside, pressed the release buttons to unseal it, and rested her eyes on the android within. She reached out and tentatively touched it, recoiling immediately. The android was incredibly cold to the touch.

She burst into tears. She’d had the android made to Anna’s exact likeness, but seeing it in front of her, icy cold from shipment, made her feel like her sister’s body had been retrieved from the black void of space. Elsa laid her head down on the android’s unmoving chest, hugging the lifeless body, chanting her sister’s name over and over again through her sobs.

Day 103

Elsa managed to get the android’s body out of the crate and roll it over gracelessly to the couch. Despite its identical appearance to Anna, the android was considerably heavier. Her fingers threaded through the brilliant auburn hair to find the access port on the back of its head and gently opened it up, then plugged a fiber cable into its processor.

She activated the holographic interface at her home workstation and her On-Line AI Facilitator sprang to life. “Hello, OLAF,” she greeted it, its interface a cheerful, simplistic snowman based on a drawing Anna had made as a child.

“Hi Elsa! What are we going to do today?” the snowman asked earnestly.

“I need you to gather training data for a new neural model. The target is an AVA N-9,” she said, weaving her fingers in the air as she began to construct what she intended to be a masterpiece, her life’s work.

“Okay, Elsa. Hey, while I was offline, I was doing some reading. Did you know that gorillas burp when they’re happy?”

Elsa closed her eyes and brought her palm to her face. OLAF was one of her very first neural models, an artificial intelligence that was childlike compared to her recent work, but Anna had loved him, so she couldn’t bear to decommission him.

“Did you know we blink 4 million times a day? Did you know wombats poop squares? Did you-”

“OLAF! Stop. Reset language processor.”

The AI’s snowman face froze in place for a moment before grinning again. “Ready.”

Elsa swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. This was it. Once she issued this command, there was no turning back. “Training data set: download and process all media with Anna in it. Directed graph, eigenvector centrality measure, please.”

After a few moments of processing, OLAF looked up at her. “Hey Elsa, just asking, but do you want to unlock Anna’s private data?” The snowman’s face grew somber. “As her formal next of kin, you have the legal authority to access all her private recordings and logs.”

Elsa paused, sorrow overwhelming her. She’d avoided taking this step as a way of refusing to acknowledge that Anna was gone and not coming back; she’d held out hope for over 2 months that Anna’s ship had just fallen off course in hyperspace or some explanation, any explanation other than the inevitable and obvious, but taking this step would mean admitting to herself that Anna was truly gone. She hunched over, her head in her hands as she sobbed quietly.

“I’m sorry for asking, Elsa. I wish I could give you a warm hug and make it better.”

Elsa caught her breath, the hitching sobs receding. “It- it’s okay, OLAF. Thank you. Y-yes, I would like to incorporate all of Anna’s private data.” She held out her hand over the workstation for DNA identification, authorizing access.

The snowman’s head bobbed as his default smile returned. “Loading. Time to process: 11 days, 7 hours, 5 minutes, 31 seconds. Beginning data import now. Hey Elsa, did you know turtles breathe through their butts?”

Day 113

OLAF chimed gently to let Elsa know the neural model training data was ready. The blonde rolled out of her bed and blearily stumbled over to the workstation. “OLAF… it’s 3 AM. You couldn’t have waited until morning to let me know?” she groaned.

“Oh hey Elsa! Glad you’re awake. Say, did you know-“

“Not now, OLAF. Show me the architecture, please?”

A brilliant, luminescent diagram appeared in front of her, like a giant loom made of golden light, covered in glitter. She touched a sparkling point here or there and was rewarded with an image, a sound, a hologram of different moments in Anna’s life. Golden threads linked one memory to the next.

“OLAF, some of these linkages are much stronger than the others. Look here,” she tapped, revealing an image of her and Anna hugging next to a holiday tree, “and here,” she gestured at hologram recording of Elsa coming home from university and Anna tackle-hugging here. “Why?”

OLAF’s avatar laughed, the snowman’s head coming loose momentarily from the body. “Oh, right. You asked for a directed graph showing how memories are linked together. Those are anchor memories, moments that were reflected strongly in others. If you select the anchor memory and run a trace, you will see the memories that reference it.”

Elsa paused, her hands hovering over the golden lattice. What was she about to discover, delving through their shared history? She gestured at an image of the two of them sitting on her couch in front of the fireplace, mugs of cocoa in one hand as their other hands were laced together. Elsa’s eyes teared up looking at the memory. She ran a finger along the golden line from that to the next node in the lattice, and a hologram of Anna appeared.

She couldn’t. Not yet. It was too soon for her, even now, months after the… incident. Opening this memory, something that Anna alone had made, would be the final acknowledgement that she was gone from her life forever.

Elsa closed the lattice and powered down her workstation, then crawled back into bed.

Day 114

Elsa opened the lattice and looked at the softly glowing memories, then closed it again.

Day 116

Elsa flipped on the fireplace, bright flame and warm air heating her tiny apartment. Martian nights were always cold, even under the dome. She looked at the android propped up against the couch, remembering a time when she and Anna would camp out on her couch, binge watching movies and eating popcorn.

Nostalgia gripped her heart with an icy fist as the android stared lifelessly at the fire, an inanimate reminder of better times.

She pulled open the lattice, saw the memories floating like sparks from the fire, glanced at the android, and closed her workstation.

She still wasn’t ready to hear her sister from beyond the grave.

Day 117

Curiosity got the better of her. She wiped a tear away from her eye with her thumb and, hand shaking, tapped on the linked memory. Anna’s face filled the display space, taking Elsa’s breath away.

“It’s January 3rd, and I have a confession,” Anna said aloud to the camera, clearly nervous even though she was alone. “I just spent the entire evening with Elsa, watching vids and sipping hot cocoa. She made the nicest fire in the hearth for us.” Anna looked down, fidgeting with something out of view. “She- when we held hands tonight, I felt something.”

Anna looked straight ahead into the camera, and Elsa felt like her sister was talking directly to her. She couldn’t breathe, and it felt like her heart had come to a halt.

All of Anna’s nervousness vanished, and her teal eyes flashed as a wry grin appeared on her lips. “I know what I felt tonight. It was true love. I am in love with Elsa. God, it feels so weird to say that. But I know it, I know it’s true love. I’m in love with my sister.”

Elsa came undone.

Day 124

“Language model is complete, Elsa. The neural model is fully rendered,” squawked OLAF cheerfully. “Ready to upload whenever you are, Elsa!”

Elsa paced around her tiny apartment, dodging discarded clothing and other detritus. She’d let things go in the months since Anna vanished; the clutter was a symptom of just how lost she felt without her sister and lover. Subconsciously knowing what she was about to do, she started picking up the laundry and food containers.

“OLAF,” she said quietly, tossing another work blazer in her laundry hamper, “initialize the neural interface and begin transfer.”

OLAF made a series of chirping and squeaking noises, and the android propped up against her desk suddenly opened its eyes as they turned a vivid green, the data transfer beginning. “Hey Elsa?” OLAF asked cheerfully.

“Y-yeah?” she looks up, a load of food delivery cartons in her arms.

“Approximately 44 hours remaining on the transfer. Want to play trivia?”

Elsa pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed.

Day 126

The android’s eyes cooled from vivid green back to teal and a soft chime sounded from it. Elsa stared pensively at it, spinning around slowly in her desk chair. She’d propped the android up in her armchair, waiting as the last of the data transfer completed. Her stomach ran laps around her insides.

She glanced at her workstation’s calendar, the day circled to remind her of Anna’s birthday. She suppressed a tear as she turned her attention back to the android.

This is it, she thought. Time to find out whether this was all worth it or not. She unplugged the data transfer cable and closed the port in the android’s head, smoothing out the red hair over the interface. Her hand hovered over the little black control box with a comically large green button lit up on it.

Her hand twitched, as though her body had its own desires to see Anna again. Finally, she took a deep breath and pushed the button.

The android - Anna, for all intents and purposes - blinked.

Elsa cautiously leaned forward in her chair. “H-hi.”

Anna blinked again. “Hi. Hi me?” she asked, pointing at herself. “I am…” her eyes flicked side to side, “Anna. You are… Elsa. You are my… sister?” Wave after wave of memory and information washed over Anna’s mind as she consumed the massive data store Elsa had built. She stood up from the chair and walked over to Elsa smoothly and gracefully to embrace her in a hug.

Cold, she’s so cold, Elsa thought as she wrapped her arms around Anna’s doppelgänger. She doesn’t feel alive. “Hi, Anna. It’s… it’s me. I- I’ve missed you so much.”

“What happened, Elsa? The last thing I remember is leaving you at the spaceport,” she asked. Her memories had included everything up to the last time Elsa had seen her.

Elsa sat down hard on the couch, attempting to control herself and failing. “You… your ship… it vanished after the transfer point on Io. No one has seen or heard from anyone on board that ship since.” A tear leaked from her eye.

Anna reached out with her thumb and wiped the tear away. Elsa shivered at her cold touch.

Day 128

“So you want me to reference the holography and intentionally be clumsy, imitating Anna?”

Elsa nodded, turning around in her workstation chair. “Yes… you, uh, you’re too graceful. Anna had a tendency to not pay attention all that much and stumble over things. It’s… it’s one of the reasons I had to keep our apartment so clean,” she sighed.

The android’s eyes flashed bright green as she processed years of video information. “Got it,” she smiled. She stood up and walked over to Elsa, intentionally catching her foot on the sofa leg and almost perfectly imitating one of Anna’s careless stumbles, her arms pinwheeling in the air before catching her balance.

Elsa’s breath caught in her throat. That was Anna. That is Anna.

Day 131

Elsa woke up to the smell of bacon and eggs. She sat up in bed, confused; rations on Mars due to recent shortages meant limited supplies of fresher foods. She tied on her nightrobe and walked into her kitchen to find Anna at the stove.

“Anna? What- where did you get bacon and eggs?”

Anna turned around with a smile. “Oh, I remembered that you love bacon and eggs, and by my count, you haven’t had it in 172 days, so I synthesized some with the protein sequencer you had on your workstation.” She handed Elsa the place, watching her with a small smile.

“It… oh my god, it tastes so real. This is amazing, Anna! How- how did you know how to do that?” Elsa said between bites, a look of bliss on her face. “Anna - my Anna - umm, your predecessor… was an archaeologist. Biochemistry wasn’t exactly her strong suit.”

The android laughed, a perfect imitation of Anna’s laugh. “I know I’m Anna, but I’m also an AVA N-9. I don’t mean to break character, but we all come equipped with varying levels of knowledge we need to do our jobs as servants, and in your case, you bought the most powerful version available, so I come with expert knowledge of just about every profession and hobby. We’re supposed to be whatever you want us to be.”

“I wish you weren’t so cold to the touch,” Elsa mumbled, taking another bite.

“Oh, I might be able to fix that.” Her irises flashed bright green for a moment before she burst into a broad smile. “Yup, you bought that option. The basic service models don’t have a need for body heat, but according to my records, your sales associate authorized the intimate partner upgrade. I can activate it if you want?”

Elsa almost spit out her food, catching herself at the last moment to avoid wasting the delicious breakfast. “Intimate partner upgrade? That slimy, arrogant little shit. How dare he… uh… anyway… yes, activate the… upgrade,” she grimaced, her face colored with embarrassment.

Anna’s pale white skin flushed and colored, and she did a little pirouette.

“Do all your system upgrades involve little dances?” Elsa smirked, giggling a little. She reached out and touched Anna’s arm as the android bowed, hamming it up.

She’s… so warm. She feels real. She feels… like Anna. Elsa practically leaped out of her chair and hugged Anna, savoring the warmth coming from her body. Tears flowed freely as she sobbed in happiness, her arms around her sister once more.

Day 160

Elsa lay in bed, shivering. Damn, the cold never used to bother me, she sighed, wrapping herself up in her blanket. The clock on her nightstand glowered angrily at her, the red digits practically making a scowl at her. 2:12 AM.

She tossed one more time before she heard a familiar knocking on her door.

“Elsa?”

Anna opened the door slowly, dressed in a green nightgown. “I heard you tossing and turning. Are you okay?”

Elsa’s teeth chattered. “I- I’m f-f-fine.” She cradled herself with her arms. “Okay, I’m n-n-not fine.”

Anna climbed onto the bed and pulled the covers aside. “Elsa, you’re freezing! Come here,” she said, pulling her into a hug. “I’ll keep you warm.”

“I… I… Anna…” she stuttered, “Oh, how I’ve missed this, so much.” Out of habit, she cupped Anna’s cheek and brushed her lips against Anna’s. Anna’s lips were perfect. Smooth, warm, firm… Elsa flicked her tongue against Anna’s lips and moaned into the kiss.

“Elsa… I have to tell you something,” Anna mumbled sheepishly, still holding her close.

“W-what is it, Anna?”

Anna laid down on the bed, her auburn hair spilling over the pillow. “The one thing that I’m missing… that I’m sorry I can’t give you, is what it was like to be intimate with you. Neither you nor Anna ever recorded anything; in fact, both of you made a point to turn off the monitoring in here,” she said, eyes flicking at the holocams recessed in the walls. “So… I don’t know what you do or don’t like when it comes to being intimate together. Would… would you teach me? Teach me so I can fully be who you want me to be?”

Elsa bit her lower lip and nodded softly. “I’d like that, Anna. Let’s start with kissing…”

She turned off the lights.

Day 201

Elsa woke to her sister spooning her, Anna’s arm around her middle, and smiled. Anna - she increasingly forgot that Anna was an android she’d built - had not only learned every mannerism and detail of their prior intimacy, but improved on it. She’d never felt so loved, so satisfied, so enveloped in her sister’s warmth and love as she did now.

She sighed happily, then felt the faintest stirrings of arousal. Anna’s hands had started to wander, slowly and gently, tracing small circles around her navel.

“I know you’re awake, Elsa,” her sister whispered in her ear, her lips brushing the back of her neck. Elsa shivered in delight as Anna’s fingertips walked up her torso, tracing the curves of her body with a feather-light touch. “I can hear your heartbeat. I can see the changes in your breathing. And I can smell your arousal.”

“Yes, I’m awake,” Elsa mumbled, blushing.

“Want me to wake you up fully?” Anna giggled, her hands gliding down past Elsa’s navel.

“Oh god yes,” she breathed, biting her lower lip as she turned to face her sister.

Day 491

Elsa peeked over the covers. “Psst, Anna!”

“Yeah?”

“Happy birthday!”

“To you?” Anna cocked her head, confused.

Elsa laughed. “It’s your birthday!”

“To me? It’s my birthday?”

“Mhm. And it’s going to be perfect, because you’ve never had a real birthday before. You came online exactly a year ago today,” she smiled, drawing Anna into a hug.

Elsa sighed happily. After the first weeks, Anna had mastered all of her predecessor’s habits, quirks, and mannerisms in almost every aspect of life. And what she didn’t have data for, they recreated.

Except for the occasional quirk, Elsa had almost completely forgotten that this wasn’t her biological sister. In every other way, this was Anna, her sister, her lover, her best friend.

“What do you want for your birthday, Anna?”

Anna tamed her wild mane with her fingers, then grinned devilishly at Elsa. She grabbed Elsa by the front of her dress and pulled her down into the bed, pressing her lips against Elsa’s.

“What I want for my birthday is…”, she licked her lips and grabbed Elsa’s ass, “you.”

Day 900

The door to their apartment slid open, and Anna walked in, weary and haggard. She glanced around. So much had changed.

I suppose that was inevitable. I wonder if she moved on from me?

She looked around the quiet apartment before gently opening the bedroom door. Elsa lay on the bed asleep. Next to her, Anna saw… herself. She gasped.

Elsa shot up out of the bed. “Anna?”