#to think about (politically) what gets you closer to the world you want versus what *feels* good and righteous

[quantummindclassicalheart]

Direct link to the statement.

“At the same time, families across the country face excruciating decisions to relocate to a different state to protect their children from dangerous and hateful anti-LGBTQI+ laws, which target transgender children, threaten families, and criminalize doctors and nurses. These bills and laws attack our most basic values and freedoms as Americans: the right to be yourself, the right to make your own medical decisions, and the right to raise your own children. Some things should never be put at risk: your life, your safety, and your dignity.”

That’s an excerpt from President Biden’s Proclamation on Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer and Intersex Pride Month, 2024.

In my lifetime, we’ve gone from the White House press secretary laughing uproariously at AIDS patients and making sneering accusations of members of the press corps only asking about AIDS because they were gay to POTUS supporting the rights of trans people, trans kids, in a proclamation of national recognition of Pride.

No, more plainly, we’ve come to this point in the last fifteen years.

The depth, breadth and speed of this progress is astounding, especially as it has coexisted with absolute regression and a constant state of attack of LGBTQIA rights from Republicans.

Do not take this for granted.

[kpopimaginings]

Decided - Seonghwa

The more you hung around Ateez, the more you noticed how much quieter Seonghwa was around you versus the other boys. It wasn't in a rude or cold way, and he was always so polite to you that you didn't dwell on it too much. You figured it was probably because he'd known them longer and was therefore more comfortable around them.

Today though, he seemed different. He wasn't even really interacting with the other boys, just looking at his phone. You broke away from the main group to check in with him.

"Is everything ok?" you asked, causing him to look up at you.

"Yes, thank you," he told you with a smile, but the smile didn't seem right.

It wasn't the same smile he wore when interacting with the rest of Ateez. You didn't want to pry though, so you didn't push him for more.

"If you're ever not ok, I'm always here for a chat," you let him know before going back to what you were doing before.

A little while later, you noticed him get up and leave the room. Without thinking you stood and followed him.

"You're not alright," you pointed out as you caught up to him.

He jumped slightly, turning to face you, his wide eyes starting to water.

"No, I'm not," he finally admitted, looking down at the floor.

"Come here," you said, taking a step closer and holding your arms open.

Seonghwa gratefully closed the gap, leaning into your embrace.

"You don't have to tell me what's wrong, but don't bottle it all up," you pleaded.

You heard him sniff softly, still wrapped up in your arms.

"It's just some comments online. People are picking at my appearance and our performances. It's getting to me," he opened up to you.

"Well stop reading them then!" you said as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

He chuckled as he pulled away from you, dabbing at his damp eyes. "It's not that easy."

"I know," you replied. "I made you smile though."

Despite the fact that he was indeed smiling now, Seonghwa still wouldn't quite look you in the face.

"And, for what it's worth, I think you're gorgeous," you added.

You noticed his eyes go wide as he muttered out a flustered 'Thank you'. With one last comforting smile, you turned to head back to the group.

After that, you made more of an effort to engage with Seonghwa. He was still quieter and hesitant when talking to you, but you really felt like he was becoming more comfortable around you. More often than not you would end up sat next to or opposite each other, making it easier to have a conversation.

Then, one day, Hongjoong pulled you to one side.

"Look, this isn't normally something I would do," he started. "I don't like to get involved in the members personal lives unless they come to me first, but I know what Seonghwa is like and I don't want him getting hurt.”

"What on Earth are you talking about?" you asked, thoroughly confused by the leader's vague words.

"Maybe you haven't noticed, but Seonghwa has a huge crush on you," Hongjoong explained.

"Really?" you replied, not sure you believed his words.

He nodded in response as you started to think back over the elder's actions around you.

"I'm just asking if you don't like him in the same way, can you please keep your distance? All you're doing now is getting his hopes up. It would be better to stay away and let him get over it."

He walked away and left you mulling over his words. The more you thought, the more everything started to fall in to place. Sure, Seonghwa was quieter around you but he was also the first to notice a change in your appearance, or compliment your outfit, or offer to refill your drink when it ran low. Maybe he was only quieter because he liked you and was nervous around you. All these little things you hadn't fully registered until now, were actually hints at how he had been feeling.

Now, you just had to work out how you were feeling. Sure, you cared about him, but you had never considered it to be as anything other than friends.

You continued as you had been, still treating Seonghwa that same as always while you worked out how you really felt.

One day you were meeting them at their rehearsal space for lunch but walking in you were only greeted by 7 boys.

"Where's Seonghwa?" you asked almost immediately.

"We left him at home," Wooyoung told you through a mouthful of food.

"He isn't feeling well," Yunho clarified. "Today's work isn't important enough to risk him making himself worse."

Your brows furrowed in concern as you felt Hongjoong's eyes on you. You knew full well that if you left now, in his eyes, you had made your choice. Meeting his gaze briefly, you turned and left heading straight for the dorms.

When you'd heard that Hwa was ill enough to miss practice, the worry and concern you felt went beyond what you expected to feel for a friend. The decision had been made for you in that moment.

"Hwa?" you called out as you entered the dorms.

At the sound of your voice, Seonghwa came shuffling out of his room. He looked like he'd only just woken up, face still a little swollen with sleep and hair all awry.

"Y/n?" he croaked.

"Hey," you smiled softly. "I went to see the guys and they said you weren't well. I was worried so I came to see how you were."

He smiled at your words before his face fell into a pout.

"I think I need cuddles," he said, sliding closer to you.

You weren't sure whether it was his dishevelled state, the pyjamas, the pout or all of the above, but right now he was the cutest thing you had ever witnessed.

"Do you need food or a hot drink first?" you asked, still worried.

He shook his head and shuffled closer again. With a quiet chuckle, you closed the gap and pulled him into your arms.

"Is it ok if I stay? I want to make sure your alright," you told him, but what you were thinking was 'I want to look after you'.

"That would be nice," he whispered.

"I'm very available for as many cuddles as you want, but you do need to eat,"

"Not yet," he mumbled, pulling away and nudging you towards the living room.

Taking the hint, you took his hand and lead him to the sofa where the two of you curled up together. He snuggled into your embrace and gradually slipped back into sleep.

NAVIGATION  |  ATEEZ MASTERLIST

[the-gayest-tree-you-ever-did-see]

What do you think happened at those Career Districts?

How do they volunteer being in the life/death competition?

Do you think this is parallel in real life?

Thank you,

@curiousnonny

i feel like im basic about this in the sense that i read it very literally as how war drafting/enlisting works. career districts are closer to the capitol, if not physically, politically and ideologically, and so they kind of.. believe in the hunger games more. obviously they are still distraught about sending kids to die, but its for a good cause, right? doing this now means avoiding a war in the future. its twenty three lives a year versus millions at once, and you know, president snow says it might wipe out the whole world given the weapons we have! i love my kids and i love my friends but its the choice between letting one die versus letting all of them die.

and so i think they almost equate the games to a war. you are either drafted (reaped) or enlist (volunteer). the career districts volunteer because it is, very literally, a career path. you train your whole life to win the games and bring home glory, enlist, and ideally, win, come home, spend a year recovering and being paraded around, and then you teach the other kids how to follow in your footsteps. every district has mentors for the chosen tributes, but i think since kids in career districts were training, those mentors made their services available to all the kids in the district, not just the chosen ones. (and yes, i do believe they think of themselves as the chosen ones.) its amazing how much you can justify when you believe in the cause. its like that one post about the older woman who was against unions because it meant that everything she'd done was for nothing. if the career districts are to realize that the hunger games and their entire governmental system is corrupt, then wasting their whole lives away to learn to kill and survive, to treat human lives as a means to an end, and to send kids off to the games willingly was all for... nothing. and if its all for nothing, look how much they lost already. how can you recover from that? how can you face yourself?

they have to continue volunteering and training and going along with the games because it would mean everything they thought was important is actually harming them and was never important at all. one must imagine sisyphus happy, right?

but yeah, this is very parallel to how people enlist for war in real life. we even see in the volunteers, katniss volunteers to save her family, because she'd rather fight a war than let it touch her sister, but no one volunteers for peeta because hes a decent option anyway. finnick has a head full of visions of glory and he volunteers too young, and letting go of that cockiness, no matter how false, would be admitting that he did it for all the "wrong" reasons. mags (an older veteran and mentor) volunteers for annie (a young woman already scarred) so that the younger generation is protected from the horrors of war. peeta volunteers for haymitch for the opposite reason, but also because he wants to die with his fellow soldiers if he must, even if we erase katniss entirely.

and even with being reaped (drafted), its going to be a majority of poorer people in minority groups who need get more tesserae and have their names in more times. so you see someone like gale, whose name is in more than probably any other kid in the district with forty two slips in order to get food for his family and save his younger siblings, is so geared to war. hes already fighting it in his head. and if he admits that war is not the answer, that principles do not have to be casualties in it, then it was all for nothing. his whole life, lived in fear of reaping but never volunteering, of always being prepared to fight but never willing to jump in... it was all useless. especially because we saw peeta volunteer in the 75th games to be with katniss, but it never occurs to gale to do the same in the 74th. we know how eager he is to fight, but he never chooses it.

i think suzanne collins did a fantastic job building up this system because it is very, very real and very, very poignant.

[juniormint1125]

Unexpected - Part 2 - Jung Wooyoung x Reader x Kang Yeosang

Unexpected – Part 2 of 3 Jung Wooyoung (Ateez) x Reader x Kang Yeosang Summary: Wooyoung relegates himself to audience member as he lets Yeosang take over. Word Count: Part 1 - 2,165, Part 2 - 2,046

Genre: smut

Warnings/Contains: mfm threesome, cuckolding/voyeurism depending on your definition*, cursing, breast worship, lots of kissing, penetrative sex

*Different people have different ideas about what makes a man a cuckold versus a voyeur. I wanted to include the links for two articles that discuss the topic, if my labeling offends you.

As always, I’m open to discussion and/or being educated by someone more knowledgeable than I am! Thanks for reading and enjoy!

Wooyoung smooths your hair back from your forehead, kisses you gently, then laughs. “I think she’s spent, hyung.”

Yeosang inches closer to you, trailing his hand along the side of your leg. You feel fresh arousal dripping from your core. It’s unbelievable that you're able to feel anything after what you’ve just experienced. He drapes one of your legs over his lap, his cock hard against your calf.

“You’re not finished yet, are you beautiful?” He’s smiling wickedly, his eyes black with lust.

"One minute,” you whisper.

“By all means," he smiles politely. "Take as much time as you need.” He taps his fingers absentmindedly up your leg and across your abdomen, seemingly without a care in the world. It’s baffling how he's so calm and collected. You're sprawled in front of him, practically naked, and he has Wooyoung's express permission to use you. Yet he sits humming quietly to himself, as if it's nothing out of the ordinary.

Wooyoung whispers, "You okay, angel?" You nod, and he smiles sweetly. Then he looks at Yeosang and asks if he's ready.

"Beyond," he replies. Wooyoung kisses you on the forehead and whispers I love you. He gets up and sits in a chair across from the bed.

"I just want to watch," he reveals when he sees your alarmed expression. Your furrowed brows relax, but your heart is still pounding. Six months ago, you could have never pictured Wooyoung acquiescing to any of what's already transpired; he's always acted like the jealous type when it came to you. The fact that he's actually orchestrated what's about to happen between you and Yeosang is something you still can't wrap your head around. You take a deep breath and mouth the words I love you before turning your gaze to the man between your legs.

"It's just the two of us now, beautiful." There's a smug grin plastered on his face. You retreat into the pillows as he glides up your body, hovering just out of reach. He murmurs into your ear, his hands planted firmly on either side of you. "Don't be nervous."

He trails a finger down your cheek. "You're absolutely gorgeous, Y/N, you know that? Wooyoung is an enormously lucky man. It's fortunate for you that he knows how lucky he is. He treats you like a princess, doesn't he?"

Your ability to speak has completely disappeared. All you can do is nod.

"I'm not here to treat you like a princess, Y/N."

You swallow hard.

He leans closer and the scent of his cologne fills your nostrils. It’s sensual and elegant, a perfect match for his visuals. The fragrance is warm, earthy with subtle notes of crisp citrus. It’s delectable. Just like Yeosang.

“I’m going to treat you like a goddess.” He skims his lips along the outside edge of your ear. “I’m going to worship every part of your body.”

His teeth nibble your ear lobe. He spreads his hand flat and leisurely slides it over your stomach, to your chest. His finger follows the intricate design of the lace across your nipple, and he hooks it beneath the cup, pulling down to free your breast from the restricting fabric.

He clicks his tongue, his attention turning to the center of your breast. Your nipple aches as it hardens, coarsened under the pressure of his thumb. He uses his fingers to squeeze and pluck mercilessly. He frees your other nipple, offering it the same treatment. Taking both your hands, he pulls you from the pillows. He reaches behind you and swiftly unclasps your bra, sliding it from your breasts completely. He presses against your shoulders gently and you sink back into the pillows. You’ve begun to breathe heavily; your skin feels like it’s on fire.

He takes your nipple into his mouth, suckling lightly at first, then gradually more forcefully. You’re trying your best to be calm, but he’s not satisfied until he’s pulled a response from you. Your body finally shudders under his control, your salacious moans shattering the silence.

You shouldn’t be so openly desirous of Yeosang. It doesn’t feel right. Your eyes search for Wooyoung, hoping to assuage your guilt. He’s silently watching the two of you. One of his legs is thrown across the other, his elbow firmly planted on his knee, and his chin resting casually in his palm. His eyebrows are creased in concentration, like there’ll be a test later. When he notices you looking at him, he smiles reassuringly. He leans back in the chair, spreading his arms wide across the back. When he uncrosses his legs, you can see the tent that’s been forming in his shorts. He’s certainly not upset by what’s going on.

“If you keep watching Wooyoung, you’re going to make me think I’m not doing my job properly,” Yeosang reproaches you. He raises an eyebrow questioningly. “Should I stop?”

You shake your head.

“Did you already forget what I told you earlier, hmm? Say my name,” he commands.

“Please don’t stop, Yeosang.”

His eyes bore into you, a crazed smile forming at the corners of his mouth. Your guilt dissipates the closer he inches to you. He surprises you by sweeping his lips over yours and drawing you into his kiss; it’s soft and sweet in direct contrast to the way his fingers are tangling in your hair. And there’s no rush in his passion.

Kissing Wooyoung is different. There’s fire inside him that can’t be contained in anything he does. And that includes kissing. He never leaves any doubt in your mind to how he feels about you or what he wants from you. His urgent passion can’t be restrained. Not that you’d ever want to.

Yet, Yeosang’s laggard love making is bewitching. Time slows to a crawl while his lips are moving against yours. There’s only the delicate pressure they exert and the hint of cinnamon you taste on his tongue.

Purposefully, he strays from your lips. His entwined fingers pull your hair tenderly, allowing him better access to your neck. The kisses become deeper, lingering longer.

“I better be careful,” he whispers almost silently. “Wooyoung warned me not to leave a single mark on what’s his.”

You can’t help but laugh. That’s sounds exactly like Wooyoung. He wants everyone to desire what he has, but he isn’t willing to share.

“It isn’t really fair Y/N, for you to be the only one exposed. He tugs the band of his shirt up and over his head, tossing it to the floor. You subconsciously bite your lip when you see the taut muscles of his chest and abdomen.

“Would you like to touch?”

“Yes, Yeosang. Please,” you breathe. A satisfied growl rumbles from his throat when you say his name.

“What a good girl,” he smirks. He reaches for your hands, beckoning you up from the pillows. Then he kneels in front of you and presses your palms against him. “Go ahead.”

You reticently move your hands over his chest. His skin is almost smoother than your own, and flawlessly beautiful. While yours are exploring the unknown territory, he busies his own hands, caressing your thighs. His fingers knead at your hips, creeping closer to your core. Once he reaches your pussy, you’ll be mortified by how wet he’ll find it. It’s preposterous how aroused he’s made you already.

You glance at Wooyoung. He’s sitting stiffly in his chair, his legs spread wide, his nails embedded in his knees. You can tell he’s turned on by the show, struggling not to touch himself. It will be fun to make him suffer, since they clearly planned the same for you.

You look back to Yeosang; his head is bent slightly forward, eyes on the work of his hands. You use only your fingertips to meander a path across his shoulders and down his chest. With a single finger, you carefully outline his abs, grateful for the hard work he puts into making himself look so delectable. You run your palms up his body, over his shoulders and down his back. You bring them around the front again, pulling at the button on his jeans.

“Should I take these off?”

"May I?" you purr seductively. It's subtle, but you see surprise in his eyes. Your newfound assertiveness is unexpected.

You take Yeosang's hand and rise from the bed, pulling him with you. When he's standing, you reach forward. Once the button's undone, you look into his eyes and remove the material with deliberate slowness. You make sure your hands fondle as much of his bare skin as possible on the way down. He closes his eyes for a split second, the first hint of discomposure you've seen from him. It makes you feel powerful.

You're on your knees now, and he's completely vulnerable to your whims. You place your hands on his legs, and beginning at his ankles, you creep slowly up. When you reach his thighs, you shift your body, bringing your face level with his cock. He watches you intently. His gaze is intimidating but your confidence is soaring. You begin by placing soft kisses on each thigh, making your way up. You stare into his eyes, as you kiss across his waist. You slide your hands closer together, letting them brush against the base of his cock. He flinches and you smile.

You pause for a moment, your eyes never leaving his own. Then, you stand on your feet. You step closer so that your bodies are touching and bring your lips to his. You kiss him softly while moving your hands up his arms. When you reach his shoulders, you push him backward and onto the bed. You climb on top of him and whisper in his ear.

"Did Wooyoung say anything about me leaving my mark on you, Yeosang?"

He shakes his head, his lewd smile making your core clench. You press your body tightly to his; you can feel his cock pulsing against your abdomen. Your lips close around his earlobe, nibbling lightly. You make sure to leave a reminder for him to enjoy later as you kiss his neck.

His tongue flicks at your lips, and they part to allow him entry. When he seems to be entirely immersed in your kiss, you lift your body, just a little, and reach behind you to grab the base of his cock. He growls when your hand makes contact, and then again when you position yourself over his head. Your hips rotate just enough to coat the tip with your juices, and then you bear down swiftly, welcoming his cock inside you.

He wraps his arms around your waist tenderly but surprises you by flipping you onto your back. He's gentle as he moves in and out of you, building a steady pace. You realize how much of a romantic Yeosang must be when he brings his lips back to yours. There's no rush to his fucking; he's in no hurry to reach the end. His thrusts are slow and forceful, accompanied by tender sweet kisses. It's a relaxing arousal that sneaks up on you, something you've not experienced with Wooyoung.

His pace doesn't quicken, but his thrusts become increasingly more urgent. Your legs wrap around his waist goading him to let go and possess you. "Fuck me, Yeosang. Show Wooyoung how much you want what he has."

You hear Wooyoung snicker, pleased by your comment and feeding right into your hands.

"Indeed, I do," Yeosang replies. His hands slide under your thighs, and he pushes your legs against your chest. His cock barrels into you making you shriek in pleasure. He fucks you until your legs are aching with exhaustion.

"No marks inside either," he whispers as he pulls out and unleashes his load all over your stomach. He's smirking as he cums, his body jerking as the last drops are released onto your flesh. He leans back on his heels, out of breath and smiling.

Wooyoung's voice behind Yeosang makes you jump. “I’ve been such a good boy, angel. Now I want to play too.”

Yeosang rises from the bed giving you an unobstructed view of your boyfriend. His clothes are gone and he's looking at you devilishly. He bites his lip and walks toward you.

Part 1, Part 3, Full Story

[sage-nebula]

I don’t have time to type up a proper and polished meta post right now (because, much like Retsuko, I have work in the morning), but I wanted to say a couple things about the Haida/Retsuko relationship as depicted in season three while it’s still fresh in my mind.

First:

Haida falling for Retsuko when he saw her sneakily filling her water bottles from the company cooler shows that he does like her for who she actually is.

A recurring theme since the end of season one has been that Haida doesn’t know the “real” Retsuko, and that he primarily likes the image of Retsuko that he’s built up in his head. He says this to her in the hospital room at the end of season one, and it was touched upon again and again this season, particularly once Haida discovered that Retsuko was secretly in an idol group and hadn’t told him about it. At the office, Retsuko presents herself as a diligent, passive office worker who lets herself be pushed around by her boss and others. She’s sweet and polite, and a bit shy. This seems to be the Retsuko that Haida fell for.

But in the scene when he’s drinking with Fenneko, we find out that’s not the case. Haida tells Fenneko that he at first thought that Retsuko was too hard-working, which (given the context of the water cooler story) makes it seem as though the front that Retsuko puts on—diligent, sweet, shy, model employee—wasn’t attractive to Haida. It isn’t until he witnessed Retsuko “stealing” water from the company water cooler while trying to be sneaky about it that he started to develop feelings for her. In that moment, Retsuko thought she was alone, so she behaved in a way she ordinarily wouldn’t in front of her coworkers. She behaved in a way that was raw, that was honest to who she was, and that was who Haida started to develop feelings for. He started to develop feelings for the Retsuko he saw when she thought no one else was around. Haida hasn’t seen that side of Retsuko too often, because she hasn’t let him, but it’s safe to say that Haida won’t stop having feelings for her when he gets to know her even more. Rather, he’ll love her even more strongly.

Which brings me to point two . . .

Haida brought her to the karaoke room because he wanted to give her room to express herself honestly.

I haven’t looked at The Discourse™ too deeply yet, and frankly I don’t really want to, but what glimpses I’ve seen of it have indicated that people are upset at Haida for dragging Retsuko out of her mom’s house and having a heavy metal face off with her in order to get her to stop hiding and return to work, with him to be there by her side to protect her. As someone with a bad anxiety disorder who has had brushes with stalking in the past (though thankfully I wasn’t attacked like Retsuko was), I definitely agreed with Retsuko when she pushed back against Haida and I can see where others are coming from when they say that he came on too strong the way he did, that it was too much, too soon.

However:

We don’t know how long it’s been since the incident. When Fenneko said that Haida has been pining after Retsuko for five years, I was shocked. The three seasons combined certainly don’t feel like that long, and I’m sure that this is meant to mean that he’s been pining for her even before the show started (which tracks), but it’s a good reminder that time can pass far more quickly in Aggretsuko than we’d expect. For us that stalking incident just happened, but for all we know Retsuko has been holed up in her parents’ house for months. I would like to give Haida the benefit of the doubt that he didn’t yank Retsuko out of her mother’s house two days after the incident. I mean, we don’t know for sure, so maybe that is what happened, but I just feel like it’s been quite a bit longer for that, especially for Gori and Washimi to go along like they did (because you know they wouldn’t let anything happen that would hurt Retsuko).

Retsuko is never honest with Haida, so he pushed her to get that honesty. Haida says it himself when talking to Tadano in the plane: No matter how many times he asks Retsuko how she is, she always says that she’s fine and refuses to open up to him. And you know, that is her prerogative, she doesn’t have to tell him things if she doesn’t want to. However, this explains why Haida took her to a place where he knew she would be able to express herself (something that Gori and Washimi likely confirmed): Because he wants to be able to help her, but he can’t do that if she won’t be honest with him about how she’s feeling. If you’ll notice, most of what Haida says in the karaoke room isn’t about him wanting Retsuko to be his girlfriend (in fact, he doesn’t really bring it up beyond showing the match results; instead he says he wants to offer her safe harbor, wants to make her feel comfortable living her life again, and that doesn’t have to be romantic); rather, it’s about encouraging Retsuko to open up and live her life again instead of shutting herself away, and we can take this to be both metaphorical and literal. It’s also worth it to note that Haida didn’t grow angry when Retsuko started snapping and screaming at him; rather, he took it in stride and even encouraged that, pushing her with heavy metal lyrics of his own. Retsuko won’t open up to Haida in ordinary circumstances, or at least she hasn’t, so he took her to the one place where she would be able to literally scream at him if necessary, because if that’s what she needs to open up and get everything off her chest, so be it.

Retsuko does need to start living her life again. Look, what happened to Retsuko is absolutely terrifying. I get it. I’ve lived it (though again, not quite to that extent). But as terrifying as it is, she can’t put her life on pause forever. Eventually, she has to get back out there. She has to go back to work (not necessarily at the same company, but somewhere). She has to be able to go out again. She has to be able to feel safe in her own home again. Yes, she feels safe at her parents’ house, but as a person, Retsuko won’t be happy if she stays holed up in her parents’ house forever. It’s completely understandable that she takes some time to deal with what happened with her. But eventually, self-care in that sense becomes self-harm. Part of the healing process is going back out into the world and learning to feel safe in those spaces again. And doing so is monumentally easier with someone by your side who is there to offer you that support. Haida taking Retsuko’s hand and telling her that he will punch the world with her—a.k.a., it’s not Retsuko versus the world, she’s not alone, she has an ally—is Haida offering her the support she needs. He’s not saying, “Get back to work!” and throwing her into the deep end of the pool by herself. He’s taking her hand and saying he’ll walk into the water with her. And that’s something that she honestly needs. Retsuko can’t heal completely if she stays in her childhood bedroom all day every day, hiding from the world. She has to get back out there and face it. Haida is offering her the helping hand she needs to do that. While the way he offered it is unconventional, so is Retsuko herself. That she was able to go back to work after that scene with him shows that it was the help that Retsuko needed, even if it wasn’t the help that she (at the time) wanted.

Just like the ending of season one, whether Retsuko and Haida are dating right now is ambiguous. Personally, I don’t think they are. Again, though Haida showed her the dating app results, what he was really offering in the karaoke room was a supportive hand to help her feel safe out in the world again. Plus, Retsuko didn’t say anything in the karaoke room that suggested she wanted to date him. So I think that, in season four, we’ll open with them still just friends—but closer friends than before. And perhaps by the end of season four, they’ll end up dating.

But either way, the main takeaways here are:

Haida does like Retsuko for who she is, she’s just let him see very little of her true self, and

While unconventional, what Haida did in the karaoke room was ultimately what was best for Retsuko, especially since they never tell us how much time has passed since the attack and the scene in the karaoke room (meaning that it’s likely much longer than it seems to us, the viewers).

[bumbleklee]

Hi I'm the anon who requested the Childe x zhongli x reader one. I deeply apologize I am so so sorry I should have specified but yes! Childe and zhongli are dating at the beginning, and poly at the end with reader. Only if your comfortable with it though! I'm sorry once again I should have specified more clearly T-T

original ask: Um feel free to ignore This ask but zhongli x Childe x reader where Zhongli and childe are dating and reader has been in love with both of them and thinks their love is unrequited, but they're happy with only giving love and not receiving anything in return. But then one day they meet someone new and start spending more time with them, pulling away from zhongli and childe which leads them to getting angry and confessing + jealous nsfw at the end. Feel free to ignore tho, no pressure. Have a good day and take care :)

hopefully i did you justice lol, i was still a tiny bit confused so i apologize if this isn’t 100% of what you were looking for but i hope you still like it!!! this is a part 1 of 2 and the nsfw work scene is going to be in part 2 (expect that in a couple days) PART 2 HERE

cw: polyamourous relationship, little bit of angst, a little over 3k words, hu tao has a brother in this named jiang

summary: your first crush is zhongli and when it’s evident he doesn’t like you back, you try to turn your feelings to childe. so when childe and zhongli start dating, your heart is shattered. thinking there’s no hope for love, you meet jiang. sounds great - the only issue? zhongli and childe seem to have a problem with this. 

Alongside Zhongli, you were a mortician at the Wangshen Funeral Home. Over the months of working beside him, you had become quite close to him. In fact, Zhongli considered you one of his closest friends in Liyue. After long days at the parlor you would go out to dinner together and despite having to pay most of the time, you were happy to spend time with him.

Your feelings towards Zhongli were growing to be more than platonic but you could never tell him. You were too different from him and while you were sure he appreciated your friendship, you couldn’t imagine him reciprocating your true feelings.

So when you’re introduced to a young man named Childe, you thought this would be your way to weasel out of your one-sided love. Childe was cheeky and sweet to you, nearly winning your heart instantly. He hung around Zhongli often and it became unusual to see either of them alone. Slowly, your crush on Zhongli soon shifted to Childe.

Unlike before, you began to dress nicer to work if you knew Childe was going to be coming along that day. You examined the way Childe interacted with Zhongli versus you and the difference made you hopeful that Childe was feeling something for you. Sometimes he would even stay at the parlor with you if Zhongli needed to run out for a bit.

When Childe asked you to Wanmin for dinner one night, your heart swelled. You had been alone for too long and now a rich, handsome local from Snezhnaya was courting you, right?

You were giddy for the remaining hour of your shift, even telling Hu Tao that you had a date after work. When the time came, Childe waited for you at the entrance and you happily skipped beside him. He made a comment about how you seemed to be in a good mood and you could only chuckle - wasn’t he, too?

“Order whatever you want,” Childe told you once you both were seated at a table. Your eyes glazed over the menu, racing back and forth between too many options. You heard Childe sigh and you looked up briefly to see his fingers fumbling with each other. “You’re probably wondering why I asked you to dinner, huh?”

Beneath the table, your legs twisted anxiously. You hid your excited smile and tilted your head, trying to make a cute facial expression. Was Childe going to ask you to be his partner? Or was it too soon to do that? Despite your age, you hadn’t been on a proper date in ages. Were things different when you were a teenager than when you were an adult?

One of Childe’s hands made its way across the table and you let him take your own. His hand felt incredibly soft and warm and you wanted desperately to interlock your fingers.

“Since you're my closest friend in Liyue, I wanted to tell you this before anyone else,” Childe began. The first part of his sentence made your chest flutter but you decided to pay no mind to it. Perhaps you had just gotten closer to Childe than Zhongli lately. But what Childe said next made your heart drop into the pit of your stomach, “I’m going to ask Zhongli to be my partner.”

“Like, work partner?” You said, your words catching in your throat. You knew exactly what Childe meant. How could you have been so stupid?

Childe let out a hearty laugh, “No, not a work partner. I want to be his boyfriend.”

Your hand fell limp in Childe’s and you swore you stopped breathing in that moment. Not only were you extremely upset, you were suddenly extremely embarrassed. You told Hu Tao this was a date! You face grew red and you averted your eyes to your lap. But it all made sense. Childe wasn’t talking to you in a special way - he was talking to Zhongli. Looking back on your personal conversations with Childe, you realized that most of them centered around Zhongli or Zhongli’s personality. You were just so infatuated with trying to please Childe that you hadn’t noticed.

“So, what do you think?”

What did you think? You thought it was the most stupid, heart wrenching idea ever. You thought Childe was the worst person in the world for leading you on (even though deep down you knew he didn’t really lead you on) and you thought Childe should just go back to Snezhnaya.

“Great!” You said, plastering a fake smile on your face, “I’m happy for you.”

Childe gave your hand a squeeze and finally let go. Your own hand slithered back to your lap where you grasped angrily at the hem of your shirt.

You ordered the most expensive item on the menu.

***

You spent the next few weeks putting up a false identity. The day after your dinner with Childe, he followed through with his idea and started to date Zhongli. You hated to admit it, but they were the perfect couple. Childe helped bring Zhongli out of his reclusiveness and Zhongli helped Childe become a more mature person.

Since both men were still your friends, they wanted to continue their relationship with you. And you didn’t have the heart to tell them to leave you alone. Now that they were dating, it was always the three of you and you quickly grew to their third wheel.

Childe offered to do commissions with you and, of course, Zhongli came along and your usual table during lunch with Zhongli had to be changed so a third person could fit. It was fun at first since Zhongli and Childe were still getting comfortable with their new dynamic but once they discovered intimacy and physical touch, you had enough.

Not only did you have to suffer through not one but two one-sided crushes just to have them start dating each other, now you had to sit by and watch them practically drool all over each other. Instead of going out to lunch with the couple one day, you made up an excuse about work you needed to finish and collapsed in a chair in Hu Tao’s office once they had left.

The funeral director looked at you over a mound of paperwork, “You’re not going out today?”

“And watch Childe try feeding Zhongli for an hour? No thanks.”

You crossed your arms, annoyed, and fixed your sight on the ticking clock on the wall. Hu Tao shifted her small body so she was sitting on her desk facing you, her legs hanging off the side and her feet kicking the side of her desk.

“What happened?” She asked. At her question, you broke and told your boss everything. Hu Tao sat and listened, staring at you concerned while you ranted about how you were convinced the world was out to get you. When you finished your vent, Hu Tao had a mischievous look on her face, “You just need to find someone new.”

You were quick to roll your eyes, “Yeah, no.”

“Believe me, Y/N, getting a new partner would help get your mind off Zhongli and Childe.”

“And where am I supposed to just find someone to date out of the blue?”

“Are you doing anything after work?”

Knowing Hu Tao, you were more than nervous to see what she had up her sleeve. Nonetheless, you avoided Childe and Zhongli for the rest of the day and cautiously left with Hu Tao. You walked behind her in silence as she led you into Liyue Harbor and to a rather large townhouse. She opened the front door and you followed her inside, immediately being met with a bustling and loud environment.

A child ran by your legs and Hu Tao shouted something inaudible at them. She turned on her heel to you, “Sorry for the chaos. You’re okay with staying for dinner, right?”

You nodded your head, realizing it was probably foolish to say no to your boss (it’s not like you had plans anyways). Hu Tao beamed and clapped her hands together, practically dragging you to the kitchen and shoving you down on a barstool. Beside you sat a rather good-looking man and Hu Tao soon introduced him to you.

“Y/N, this is my older brother Jiang. Please find him well.”

So, this is what the director had in mind.

Jiang held out his hand to you politely and you shook it gently, formally introducing yourself to him. For the next few hours, you and Jiang got to know each other. You learned that he was Hu Tao’s eldest sibling and was a teacher in Liyue Harbor. He was around your age and had a very kind smile. By the end of the night, Jiang expressed his interest in you and asked you on a proper date. Hu Tao only smirked giddily behind the counter.

You and Jiang grew close quickly. Your time spent with him was refreshing and for once, you were finally able to get your mind off Childe and Zhongli. You still saw Zhongli (and sometimes Childe) at work but your relationship had already faltered enough to add awkwardness to your conversations. If Zhongli tried to stop you and talk to you about something other than work, you made up an excuse to scurry along. Despite your new relationship, thinking about Zhongli and Childe caused a familiar pain to appear in your chest.

One night you couldn’t leave fast enough and Zhongli caught your arm, “May I have a word with you?”

“Right now?” You asked, glancing at the clock for emphasis, “I really have to get going.”

“Please,” Zhongli said quietly, “Just for a moment.”

You sighed, knowing you didn’t have a valid excuse rolled up in your sleeve this time. You nodded your head and slipped your bag from your shoulder back onto the chair in front of you. Zhongli retracted his hand from your arm, instead deciding to loosely cross them across his chest.

“Have we done something wrong?” He asked.

“What are you talking about?”

“Childe and I have noticed your absence from our outings,” He explained, his tone remaining very flat, “We miss you.”

You wanted to scoff at him. You weren’t a part of their relationship, why did they miss you? “I’ve just been busy,” You said, “In fact, I started seeing someone.”

Zhongli’s expression at this statement was indescribable. It was as if he had a reaction but was trying to hide it behind tight lips. Even his usual bright eyes were unreadable. “I see,” He said simply. He paused for a moment before flashing you a cheeky, falsified smile, “I’d love to meet them. How about a double date this Saturday? We get off early then.”

You sent Zhongli a similar tight-lipped smirk, “We would love to. See you then.” And with that, you picked up your bag and rushed out of the funeral home, rubbing your temple. You had a bad feeling about this date.

***

Jiang picked you up for your double date at six. You couldn’t help but notice how ravishing he looked that night with his hair slicked back and expensive-looking clothes on his body. Upon further inspection, you could see the faint smudge of eyeliner lining his lashes. Gold jewelry adorned his neck and wrists and you could only assume Hu Tao spent hours making him look this good for you.

“Ready to go?” Jiang asked you, holding his arm out cheekily. You rolled your eyes and grinned, locking your front door and grabbing onto his arm.

You couldn’t shake that uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach but you didn’t let Jiang know. The last thing he needed was to hear about how the two men he was meeting tonight were former crushes of yours. To him, this double date was a simple outing between coworkers.

You were having dinner together at the Liyue Pavilion as per suggestion of Childe. You were worried about the price but Childe insisted that he would front the bill as always. Part of you missed having your meals constantly covered by the harbinger.

Jiang opened the door to the restaurant for you and you thanked him, slipping inside and spotting the two men you were meeting already at a table. Childe reached up to wave you over and you took Jiang’s arm in yours before heading over there.

“Childe, Zhongli,” You greeted your co-worker and friend, “This is Jiang, my boyfriend.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Jiang smiled, reaching his free hand out to Childe and Zhongli who both shook it cautiously. After introducing everyone, you sat down at the table and Childe handed you a menu to look over.

Jiang was being overtly sweet to you, touching your fingertips and leaning into your side. You accepted the gestures, even daring to lay your head against his shoulder while he talked to Zhongli about the cor lapis industry. From the corner of your eye, you watched Childe’s jaw clench and his grip on Zhongli’s arm tightened.

“So, tell us about yourself,” Childe asked Jiang, his tone sharp. Jiang, sweet Jiang, only beamed and sat straighter in his chair, “Zhongli tells me your Hu Tao’s brother, correct?”

“Right! She’s my younger sister,” Jiang shook his head and chuckled softly to himself, “And I teach literature at the Liyue Xueyuan.”

“A teacher?” Childe nearly scoffs, “I suppose that’s why you live with your younger sister.”

Jiang seemed taken aback by this comment but tried to play it off by laughing. You felt a pang in your chest and shot Childe a nasty glare for his unnecessary comment but were only met with his sharp eyes. You swore you could see jealousy swimming in them.

“Now, now,” Zhongli interrupted, “Not everyone is as magnificent as you, Childe. No need to make others feel bad.”

You felt Jiang’s body tense and his eyes averted down to his lap for a moment. “Don’t listen to them,” You told him, “They’re just trying to be funny.”

“I would never dream of humoring you about that,” Zhongli replied to you, “I’m just pointing out the obvious. Aren’t we getting to know each other?”

At that moment, you knew exactly what Childe and Zhongli were doing. You noticed the way they were looking admirably at you and shooting daggers at your date. They were clearly trying to badtalk him and make Jiang seem undesirable in your eyes. Only you couldn’t seem to understand why. Shouldn’t they be happy that you finally found someone to potentially settle down with?

One more backhanded comment was thrown in Jiang’s direction and suddenly your partner stood up from the table. The expression on his face was heart-wrenching, “I’m going to use the restroom.” With that, Jiang hurried away from the table leaving you alone with both men.

“What the fuck is wrong with you two?” You snapped, angrily waving your hands around.

“What do you mean?” Childe asked, batting his eyelashes at you in the most painstakingly annoying way ever. Your eyes narrowed and after finding his foot under the table, you stomped on it hard. Childe cursed and crossed his arms, looking down.

Zhongli, understanding Childe was being too immature, spoke up, “You shouldn’t be with him.”

You wanted to tear your hair out, “Who do you think you are to dictate who I can and can’t date?” Your voice was rising but you didn’t care, your frustration jumping out. “Never once have I meddled with your relationship but you think you can with mine?”

“You should be with us.”

Zhongli’s words made you freeze. Was this some sick joke? You wrecked your brain for an incident you caused in the past few months for them to be pranking you like this but you couldn’t think of a single one. Childe reached across the table to grasp your hands and you were still too in shock to pull them away.

“We love you, Y/N, and we should have told you sooner,” Childe says.

You shake your head, “I’m dreaming.”

“You’re not,” Zhongli says, placing his hands over yours and Childe’s, “Please say you’ll be ours.”

Finally, you took a deep breath and looked straight ahead. Zhongli and Childe looked at you with pleading eyes and you felt a rush of emotions explode inside of you. Both of your former crushes were confessing their love to you, asking you to be a part of their relationship. Never once had the thought of a polyamorous relationship crossed your mind but you certainly weren’t opposed to it.

“Okay,” You breathed out, “I will.”

***

Breaking the news to Jiang when he returned back to the table was hard. He was already fragile from being berated before and now you were breaking up with him. You knew you were going to earn an earful from Hu Tao on Monday but you decided to worry about that when the time came.

You had asked Jiang to step aside and in the simplest of terms, you tried to explain the situation.

“So, you’re breaking up with me to date both of them?” He asked in disbelief, running a hand through his hair. His voice was filled with cracks and you wish it didn’t have to be like this. Truthfully, he didn’t understand. How could you be with two people at the same time? “Is this a sex thing? Because I can try harder if that’s-”

“No!” You interrupted, “It’s not, I promise. My heart is just split down the middle for them.”

Jiang sighed again. He may never fully understand your relationship but he appreciated you telling him now rather than later. You offered to walk Jiang home but the man decided he needed some time alone - you didn’t blame him. You wanted to ask Jiang if you could remain friends but the words weren’t coming out of your throat. You watched as Jiang took one last look at you, then the two men at the table, before solemnly walking away and out of the restaurant.

You returned to your new partners and finished your dinner. Slowly, your mood was elevated again but the natural ache of your heartbreak lingered.

“Spend the night with us,” Childe says sweetly after paying the check, “We can help you feel better.”

The feeling of both men on either side of you felt foreign but comforting. You nodded to Childe’s request and Zhongli led the three of you back to his apartment. The next few moments were a blur and when you came to, you were being laid on a soft bed. Childe slid next to you and your arm instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, while Zhongli hovered above you. His warm eyes gazed into yours and you decided you could get used to this.

This new love was unique and plentiful as long as the three of you were on the same page, that’s all that mattered.

a/n: sorry this took so long! as you can see, it came out v long lmfao. requests are still open <3

[benevolentbirdgal]

“Thirteen” Tips on Writing Jewish Characters / Some  Jewish Identity Stuff Explained

So you want to write a Jewish character, but don’t want to write a caricature? Or are worried they won’t register as Jewish to readers, or something will be off or wrong? Well I, friendly (virtual) neighborhood Jewish professional, am here to help! 

Note: The Jewish community is made up of roughly 14 million people worldwide with all sorts of backgrounds, practices, life circumstances, and beliefs. I’m just one American Jew, but I’ve had exposure to Jewishness in many forms after living in 3.5 states (at several different population densities/layouts), attending Jewish day school and youth groups, doing Jewish college stuff, and landing a job at a Jewish non-profit. I’m speaking specifically in an American or Americanish context, though some of this will apply elsewhere as well. 

Let’s start with the word “Jew.” It’s not inherently a slur, but can absolutely be used as one. I am a Jew. You can call me a Jew, just not a Jew. Like most minority groups, there are slurs against us, but Jew is the proper demonym. It can be used disrespectfully as a noun, but isn’t inherently disrespectful. Think “Chava is a Jew” versus “You’re being such a Jew.” 1a. Any use of Jew as a verb by gentiles (non-Jews) is not okay. Your Jewish characters should be horrified by someone telling them they “Jewed down the price.” 1b. Any use of Jewess by gentiles is not okay and your Jewish character should not be cool with it.  1c. Many Jews would actively prefer to be called such because that’s what we are and “Jewish person” is stepping away from our Jewishness. But I get that not everybody is going to be comfortable calling us Jews. That’s okay, and “Jewish person/people” or “X is Jewish” is TOTALLY ACCEPTABLE.  1d. With that said, Jewish people refers to ourselves as Jews. If Sarah is Jewish but is squicked about referring to herself as a Jew, your Jewish readers will immediately know she’s written by a gentile.  1e. Actual slurs against Jews is a post for another time (did you know K*ke literally means circle?). 

Your Jewish-American character likely does not speak Hebrew, Yiddish, Ladino, or any other Judeo-Language (languages that are a mix of Hebrew and at least one other language, typically written in the Hebrew abjad). Three notes on this, however: 2a. If your character is an immigrant or the child of an immigrant, they might speak the Judeo-language of the old country. The most common will be Israeli-Americans speaking Hebrew, but families still speaking Yiddish, Ladino, Judeo-Arabic, and other families do still exist. The children of Jewish immigrants might also speak another language that isn’t a Jewish one, like Russian or Spanish.  2b. If they are in a VERY religious Ashkenazi community, they might speak Yiddish at home and in the community.  2c. Odds are decent, however, that your American Jew can read but not understand Hebrew. If your character went to Jewish Day School or Yeshiva, they definitely read Hebrew, and will have some understanding of it (but likely not fluency). 

Despite what I just said above, your Jewish-American character likely drops a lot of Yiddish words and phrases into their day-to-day speech. Which words/phrases in probably a list for another time, but the most common will be foods, family names (i.e. “Zayde” instead of Grandpa), and sassy expressions. They may incorporate some Hebrew to a lesser extent. 

There’s not just one version of kosher. There’s kosher, kosher-style, Halav Yisrael, glatt kosher, etc. Depending on your character’s level of kosher, they’ve need a hecksher (kosher mark) on any given item or only eat at kosher restaurants, although not all Jews keep kosher and many keep “kosher-style” (i.e. only eat theoretically kosher things).

Your Jewish character should be a whole character, both in general and in relation to their Jewishness. This means, among other things, that they aren’t obsessed with Israel and I/P discourse one way or the other and that while writing you remember that not all Israelis are Jews and not all Jews are Israelis. Your Jewish character is not constantly agonizing over the I/P situation, has a life outside of their Jewishness, and shouldn’t be a cardboard stand-in for your desire to discuss the middle east. 

The Jewish experience varies dramatically with geography. Jews living in Omaha, Richmond, Philly, Kansas City, Boca Raton, and New York City are all American Jews. They will have drastically different Jewish experiences. I strongly recommend doing research on the Jews in the specific place your story takes places, but generally:  6a. The closer you are to the northeast coast and NYC (except south Florida) the better and more varied your Jewish resources.  6b. NYC has the highest Jewish population of any city on the planet. Big cities like Boston, Chicago, and L.A., as well as just outside of NYC in NJ and NYS, and suburban/exburb south Florida will have lots of Jewish resources: day schools (Jewish + secular education mix), maybe Yeshivas (Jewish focus), multiple synagogues, a Jewish Community Center, Jewish dating services, social stuff, Jewish charities, and youth activities. Your character will have other Jewish friends and their gentile friends will likely know other Jews. Antisemitism is still a problem and usually takes the form of excluding Jews from activism, thinly-veiled stereotyping or excusing antisemitism from people from other oppressed groups, but it’s usually not as overt as elsewhere. Almost always safe to disclose Jewishness.  6c. Small and mid-size cities Denver, Virginia Beach, Charleston, and Harrisburg will have a JCC or Jewish federation, multiple synagogues, and maybe a Jewish day school. Your character is not the only Jew their gentile peers have met, but the bagels are meh. They will have other Jews to bond and commiserate with. Antisemitism here is mostly like that in big cities with occasional burst of overt incidents and attacks. It is generally physically safe for them to disclose Jewishness.  6d. Big towns and small cities in the south or mid-west will have maybe one synagogue - probably reform or Chabad. Your character will have to seek out Jewish spaces, but they will be easy to find. They will not be everybody’s First Jew, but it will be unusual. Antisemitism here is mostly overt - most of the antisemites your character deals with will be very obvious and many will be violent. Jews in such situations will not hide their Jewishness per se, but will be more selective in choosing to disclose it.  6e. Rural areas and small-small towns will not have a synagogue. Your character and their family may be the only Jews or there might be a small group that meets on occasion or carpools to the nearest synagogue. They will have to actively seek out the others Jews and they will be difficult to find. Disclosing their Jewishness is a serious consideration and not always safe. Odds are they are many people’s First Jew, which gets really weird real fast. Beyond the harmless ignorant-but-trying-to-learn-from-their-first-Jew types your character will interact with, there’s also violent and overt antisemitism here.  6f. If your character is in college, they will likely have a Chabad and/or a Hillel on campus if they are at a large school or a school with a significant Jewish population. 

Related: when Jews meet each other for the first time, a game of “Jewish geography” ensues as they try and trace people they know in the other person’s state/city/community. 

Jews come in all shapes, colors, sizes, genders, sexualities, politics, and religious beliefs. There are all sorts of Jewish people with tons of different intersecting identities. Don’t box yourself in to writing one kind of Jew. Just research a ton on the particular subsection of the Jewish community your character is a part of - a Mizrachi-Jewish Persian-American bisexual woman is going to have a different experience than a straight Ethiopian-American Jewish man who is going to have different experience from a queer Ashkenazi-Jewish-American girl with non-Jewish family.  8a. Jews with Ashkenazi (eastern/northern European) ancestry and customs are the biggest group in the U.S., but by no means the only group or representative of every Jew. Sephardi (Spanish/southern European/north Africa), and Mizrachi (north Africa and the middle east) are the next biggest groups. It would not be unusual for your character to have Polish-Jewish, Iraqi-Jewish, Moroccan-Jewish, or Russian Jewish ancestry or a mix.  8b. Each of these groups have their own customs, Judeo-languages, local holidays, and local historic tragedies. Generally, historic Sephardi communities were linked between themselves, historic Ashkenazi communities were linked between themselves, and historic Mizarchi communities were linked between themselves. The three had some, but limited contact. Additionally, all three major groups have subdivisions within them.  8c. There are also smaller groups that don’t fall within the three traditional categories, like the Ethiopian Jews, the Cochin Jews (India), Chinese Jews, Gruzim (Georgian), and more. Most of these smaller groups were not in contact with the wider Jewish world.  8d. All Jewish groups start from the same base texts (the written Torah), and the majority include the oral Torah as well. Local interpretations and traditions develop, these are referred to as minhag(im) (customs). For example, the biblical commandment is to not boil a baby goat in its mother’s milk. Some communities extend this to mean no chicken and milk, others reason that chickens don’t produce milk so the mixture is acceptable. Both are equally valid interpretations rooted in tradition, but they are different.  8e. Marrying between Jewish subgroups in the U.S. is super common and outside of extreme or really intense groups is not frowned upon. Traditionally, the father’s minhagim are followed, i.e. a Syrian-Jewish father and a Spanish-Jewish mother would follow the Syrian-Jewish minhagim with their children. Many modern couples choose the mother’s traditions or mix them up, but that’s the traditional route. 

Unless they are VERY religious, your character’s family is unlikely to be particularly wound up about them being LGBTQ the way a comparably Christian family might, at least not because they’re Jewish. Samuel’s Jewish mother is likely unconcerned he likes boys and is much more empathetic than he must marry a Jewish boy and raise any kids Jewish. 

There are so many Jewish holidays, and they are not all celebrated the same or with the same intensity. Probably enough material for its own post, but the ones most likely celebrated by your character: 10a. Shabbat and/or Havdalah. Shabbat starts Friday nights with candles, wine/grape juice and challah bread, Havdalah ends Shabbat with a braided candle, wine, and aromatic spices. Shabbat dinner is usually a meat meal and it is common to invite guests or eat with friends and family (in normal times).  10b. The “High Holidays” - Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur. Jewish students often skip school for these. Yom Kippur is a 25 hour fast with services all day, Rosh HaShanah has services in the evening and morning.  10c. Passover - arguably the most important holiday. Celebrated with two sometimes agonizingly long Seders (ritual meals), family gatherings, and abstaining from leavened bread for 7/8 days.  10d. Hanukkah - Not actually that spiritually important, but culturally important for American Jews. Typically celebrated with candle lighting, presents, visits to family members, and greasy food. 

There’s a lot of wine involved in Jewish ritual, so it’s unlikely your character’s Jewish family are teetotalers. 

Jewish families tend to be very intense, loud, opinioned, caring, and involved, compared to many other assimilated American families. Shabbat dinner is not quiet. Dissent is a Jewish value - differing opinions are allowed (and expected in many circles), as is the ability to argue/defend competently. 

Jewishness can mean ethnic identity, cultural identity, and/or religion. There are several major denominations religiously, although that needs to be its own post in detail. The noteworthy movements at this point are Orthodox (further subdivided into Ultraorthodox and Modern Orthodox), Conservative (middle of the road, no relation to conservative politics), Reform, and Reconstructionist (both very “choose your own/your community’s adventure).

Probably will write more parts in the future, but this is heinously long already! Hope this is helpful!

[moonbeamwritings]

Imagine a scenario based off a dream I had, modern AU where DIO is like 28 a single father, Lawyer to the Stars on the Coast of California with little 7 year old Giorno.

The Reader, Tired- maybe coming off an over night shift, half asleep is casually walking down the busy sidewalk, catches sight of a distracted Giorno not waiting at the cross walk (on his Gameboy or something) and in an instantly the reader pulls Giogio out of the way of an on passing car.

Boom. Dio saw it all and starts scolding Gio. I woke up after that bit.

Point is... I wonder what would have happened next 🤔😕😳

this is cool as hell, anon. cool. as. hell. i’m here for it and i will definitely try to deliver !! it got very out of hand, but i hope you enjoy!! 

part 2

Your day had been long, having worked open to close at the coffee shop down the street from your apartment. As your shift came to an end, you blearily worked through the closer checklist, puttering around the store as you cleaned and closed everything down. With one last turn of a key, you finally, finally, began your trek home.

As you came up to the crosswalk, you noticed a little boy toddling along, gaming system in hand as he went. He was so wrapped up in his game that he barely gave the busy street a second thought as he stepped a foot off the curb.

It was like you were watching the situation in slow motion, his foot moving at a snail’s pace right in front of a moving car. Acting on adrenaline alone, suddenly far more awake than you’d ever felt in your life, you gripped the handle of his backpack to yank him up and into your arms.

With him back on the sidewalk, you placed him back on his feet as you knelt in front of him. “Jeez kiddo, you alright? You have to pay better attention around here.”

As the small boy opened his mouth to say something, a man with a thick british accent came hustling over. “Giorno! How many times do I have to tell you to put that thing away when you’re walking?”

The man, who you could only assume was his father, pulled the device from the boy’s hand before lifting him up into his arms. “Don’t do that again.”

His son nodded meekly, eyes shifting down to his father’s shoes.

“I’m sorry about him. I thought he was right next to me.”

You waved the man off as your gaze finally moved to meet his. He was handsome, like something out of a fairytale, all muscle with perfectly styled blond hair and an impeccable, no doubt expensive, suit. In the back of your mind, you felt as if you’d seen him before, but, being unable to place it, you brushed the thought away.

Saving yourself the embarrassment of ogling at the man for too much longer, you excused yourself. “It’s no problem. Have a nice night you two.”

With the situation over with, you continued your walk home.

Upon your arrival, you did everything you could to decompress: showering, changing, and situating yourself on your couch to watch mindless television. As you flicked through channel after channel, you finally landed on a celebrity gossip station, half listening as the host worked through this week’s hot topics.

You rolled your eyes.

She went on to describe yet another celebrity’s messy divorce, among other criminal charges apparently. Your attention was quickly piqued, though, when a familiar face flashed onto your screen. There he was a perfect combination of muscle, confidence, and style.

Dio Brando.

The man whose child you’d saved, who you’d embarrassingly checked out in a tired stupor, was Dio Brando. It took everything in you not to bring a hand up to smack at your own forehead. No wonder you’d recognized him, he was any celebrity’s dream lawyer and had his own fair share of scandals and nonsense. 

Yikes.

With one final look at the man in question, you changed the channel, hardly able to bear the gritty details of a court case you didn’t care about.

The whole incident with him and his son became nothing more than a blip in your day-to-day life, telling a few work friends and leaving it at that. Did you sometimes check Dio’s Instagram out of what you explained away as genuine curiosity? Well, yeah, but you were only human after all.

The weekend after your run-in with the famous lawyer, you were tasked with another long shift slaving over coffee orders and dealing with rude customers. The moment the morning rush ended, you jumped at the chance to take your lunch break, situating yourself in a corner of the café. You watched as only a few customers filtered in and out, thankful that the worst of the day was now over.

Losing yourself in your Twitter feed, you mindlessly sipped at a cup of tea as the remaining time of your break ticked away, only snapping back to reality at the sound of a familiar voice.

“Mind if I join you?” Looking up from your phone, you locked eyes with Dio. 

“Oh! Uh, sure!”

You watched as he delicately sat himself in the chair across from you, ankle perched on his knee as he shot you an unwavering smirk. As he got situated, he stuck a hand in your direction.

“Dio Brando.”

Biting back a snarky quip about how narcissistic his introduction alone made him seem, you gently placed your hand in his as you gave him your name.

“I wanted to thank you again for what you did for my son.”

“It’s really no problem. I think anyone would have done the same.”

He eyed you carefully, fingers dancing against the mug in front of him. “So, what do you want?”

“Excuse me?”

“As repayment.” He explained like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Do you want money?” Dio leaned across the table to mumble, “Sex, maybe? I don’t like leaving debts unpaid.”

A look of disgust crossed your face as you put both your phone and drink down on the table, moving to sit on your hands to resist the urge to smack him upside the head. “What are you talking about? I don’t want anything. I was being nice. You don’t need to pay anyone off for being nice.”

“Hmm,” He seemed deep in thought, eyes drifting up and down your face, lingering on your lips for only a split second, “nothing at all? You do know who I am, don’t you?”

With your break coming to an end and your patience wearing thin, you started to collect your things. “Look, pretty boy, I don’t really care who you are. You’re honestly kind of insufferable. I helped your son because he was in trouble. I don’t want your money and I don’t want to have sex with you.”

You hadn’t meant to be quite that biting, but you couldn’t help yourself. How dare he come into your work, assume that he owed you something, and then have the audacity to tease you about it? What the fuck?

“Pretty boy?”

“I need to get back to work. I’d really appreciate it if you didn't come back in here if you’re just going to pull more of this shit.”

Without sparing him a second glance, you made your way back behind the counter, placing your stuff in the back before returning to your place at the register. By the time you returned, he was gone. Good riddance.

You could only assume how warped his worldview was if he genuinely thought he needed to pay you off for helping his son. A creeping feeling of sympathy worked its way into your brain, but was quickly swatted away by the image of his smug smile.

You didn’t see him again for another week, this time armed with a grin that was a little less playful and a little more genuine, almost sheepish.

Taking his order with little fuss, you got to work pouring his coffee and adding specific ingredients. He attempted to make idle conversation with you, asking about your day and how you’d been doing with work. You humored him, if only to be polite, answering his questions with little enthusiasm.

Days passed much the same way. Dio would come in, make small talk, and then leave. No further incidents like that first meeting, no more overt attempts at getting in your pants. Nothing.

It was all… strange, to put it simply. It was like dealing with two different people: the overconfident, well-dressed Dio Brando versus the charming single dad Dio. You were left conflicted, wrestling the two images in your mind to decide how you truly saw Dio.

One night, he’d offered to walk you home after another of your late shifts with the promise that he’d get up to no funny business, as you’d put it. The conversation had lulled as you both became enraptured with the noises of the city, your faces bathed in warm neon lights. The silence was nice, welcomed even, as you thought about how to phrase your feelings.

You’d come to like Dio, in your own silly little way. You had memorized his order, knew more about his job and his son, knew him more intimately than you had ever expected to, but one question remained. One question loomed in your brain, clouding any positive thoughts you may otherwise have: Why? Why did he suddenly come into your work? Why did he take such a liking to you? Was it all a ruse, a sick way of finally repaying you?

“You look like you’re about to throw up.” He commented lightly, watching as a crease formed between your eyebrows, as your face twisted in discomfort.

“I-” You took a deep breath, looking anywhere but at him in order to actually get the question out. “Dio, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” He spoke earnestly, eyes still tracing over your side profile.

“Why?”

“Why what? You’re going to need to be more specific.”

“Why would you keep coming into the store after I told you off? I just can’t shake this feeling that you’re still… ugh,” you groaned as the words left your mouth, deciding that this was actually a very bad idea, “I don’t know, buttering me up. Like this is all some dream where I’ll wake up to you laughing in my face, telling me that you were only being nice to me to repay me or sleep with me or something.”

Wordlessly, Dio grasped your arm and led you under the awning of a nearby business, not really wanting to stop sidewalk traffic with whatever confession he may find himself making. He looked deathly serious, like you’d just promised to ruin his entire life. Maybe, with all of your questioning, you had.

“Look,” he sighed, “Did I initially come in with the intention of repaying you by whatever means necessary? Yes and I think we both know that, but it’s different now.”

He paused, clearly choosing his next words very carefully. “You’re one of the only people to actually try to put me in my place, to show me that I was being an asshole. It’s different with you. Hell, you kept me up that night. I couldn’t get you out of my head. It was like you were haunting me, driving me crazy. I had to get to the bottom of why I was so taken with you.”

You felt your mouth drop open at his admission, feeling as though your feet were swept right out from under you, sending you tumbling, “Oh.”

“Oh.” Dio mimicked, his voice lilting up to tease you. “Does that answer your question?”

“Uh, I-... Yeah, I guess it does.”

“Good then let’s go.” He tugged you along, guiding you back out onto the sidewalk and towards your apartment. Dio’s hand didn’t leave yours until you arrived at your doorstep.

“Goodnight.” It was quick, uttered as soon as his hand left yours as he moved to turn around and make his own way home.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“Home. I have a kid, remember?”

“Well, of course I remember, but don’t you want to hear what I have to say?”

The smile that graced his face was nothing short of teasing, a small quirk of his lips as he looked you up and down. “Only if it’s interesting.”

“Ugh,” you grumbled, stomping down the stairs of your apartment complex to come face-to-face with Dio, “you’re relentless.”

“So I’ve been told.” He watches as your lip twitches in annoyance. God, did he love to push your buttons. “Spit it out, then. What’s still on your mind? Eager to ask me more questions?”

In lieu of a verbal retort, you took his face in your hands and all but yanked him down to connect your lips with his, eager to finally shut him up. His response was immediate, moving his lips against yours as a hand weaved around your waist, another resting just above your ass.

As you moved to break away, his lips followed yours, pressing another needy kiss to your mouth. Finally satiated, he pulled back to take in the dazed expression on your face.

“I do have one question.”

Dio let out a barking laugh that had him pulling you closer, gripping at your waist, “What is it?”

“Is sex off the table now that you’re not trying to repay me or-?”

He rolled his eyes, leaning in so his lips barely touched yours as he spoke. “I’m sure we can figure something out.”

[hatterstan-shameblog]

Okay so Aguni is sound asleep, just enjoying the few hours of peace he has, when there's a knock on the door. He ignores it, but the person just keeps knocking and knocking.

"Morizono, open the goddamn door!" he hears Takeru call, "This is an emergency!"

He groans to himself before standing up and opening the door.

"What?"

"So, remember that weird chonky cat Niragi found?"

"Yeah... what about it?"

"It's not fat... and is not a cat."

Where Hatter and apparently every other idiot at the Beach mistake a domesticated pregnant genet for a fat exotic cat. And it just gave birth on Hatter's bed.

I have no idea in what direction this is supposed to go lol but hopefully something chaotic.

alright I had to look up what a genet is and DAMN they are CUTE AS HELL and I’m love them v much

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

Terminator

Rating: PG-13 for dialogue and like one drug reference

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

Aguni Morizono is a simple man who enjoys simple pleasures.

He enjoys a healthy slathering of grape jelly on his toast. He enjoys watching the sunset reflect over the ocean. He enjoys watering his garden and reading the newspaper and taking naps on the sofa on Sunday afternoons after he’s finished his grocery shopping for the week.

What he does not particularly enjoy is being shaken awake by a borderline-frantic Takeru in the middle of the night.

Takeru insists that he has a good reason; that this is an emergency. Aguni reminds him that running out of marijuana does not qualify as an emergency, and pulls the blanket over his head in an attempt to shut the very exuberant man out.

But the aforementioned exuberant man refuses to be shut out, and he references the aforementioned emergency again—this time insisting that it is an actual real emergency and requires immediate attention. Aguni sincerely doubts this and tries his damnedest to fall back to sleep—a truly Herculean task, given Takeru’s incessant talking and the way he’s bouncing on the other side of the mattress like some kind of weird large puppy. Aguni is just about to enter the first misty moments of dozing off as Takeru says words like ‘Niragi’ and ‘cat’ and ‘bed’ and it’s all somewhat possible to ignore until he utters one word that makes Aguni sit straight up.

‘Babies.’

Now, ‘babies’ as a concept does not bother Aguni. He’s actually somewhat fond of them, the way they unabashedly stare at him on the train or in the park, eyes wide and fat little hands waving a clumsy ‘hello’ in his general direction. And if he waves back sometimes, well...that’s his business. (It’s only polite, after all.)

No, the issue here is that ‘babies’ and ‘the Borderlands’ sounds like a terrible, terrible mix. What’s worse is that said babies have, for some reason, been left in Takeru’s care. And, judging from Takeru’s presence in his room, the babies have been left alone.

It takes no time at all for Aguni to throw on a pair of pants and slip into his boots. It takes even less time for him to grab Takeru by the collar of his robe and physically drag him down the hall, the other man switching between heartfelt thank-you’s and desperate pleas for Aguni to be gentle when handling the raw silk of his ensemble.

Now, to those of us on the outside of Aguni’s brain, it may seem like he hasn’t thought this through; that he has tunnel-vision’d his way through the last two paragraphs without a logical thought as to how and why ‘babies’ may be present. That is simply not true. Aguni has considered that ‘babies’ could actually mean a number of things aside from ‘human infants’ and has thus compiled a short list of the three most likely candidates:

The spider plant he had placed on Takeru’s windowsill has propagated—or, as some would call it, ‘had babies.’ This is Aguni’s favorite option of the bunch. It is also the least likely.

Something about the cards. Although Aguni has never Takeru refer to them as ‘his babies,’ it is no secret that he is very protective of his prized collection. Seeing as this may or may not affect the entire Beach, it’s important for him to be aware of the situation.

Takeru is high as a goddamn kite and hallucinating. This is, unfortunately, the most likely scenario.

It is also important to mention that Aguni has taken a good look at his life and his choices throughout this ordeal, particularly when Takeru commented on the state of his biceps and made an off-color insinuation about the right one looking slightly more defined than the left—and then asked if he would like to discuss his love life, with an exaggerated raise of his eyebrows. Aguni chose not to comment. He also chose to push Takeru into the doorframe on the way into his suite, and took a smidge of pleasure when his head collided with the wood with a satisfying clunk-ing sound.

“Look,” Takeru says proudly, pointing a finger at the bed, “babies!”

Nestled in what a bulging nest of fluffy white blankets are...things. Fuzzy things. One big fuzzy thing, with sleepy eyes and what looks to be a long spotted tail wrapped around one, two, three tiny fuzzy things. When Aguni leans in to get a closer look, the big one quirks a corn-chip-shaped ear and gives him a wary glare.

“What,” Aguni asks, “in the goddamn—“

But before Aguni is able to finish his sentence, Takeru is giving him a stinging slap on the arm.

“Aguni Morizono,” he hisses, hands balled into fists and perched on his hips like a mother hen, “I will not have my children exposed to that kind of language.”

There are plenty of things wrong with what Takeru just said, but Aguni is having trouble getting past the idea that these...creatures have somehow been claimed by his very silly friend.

“Think about it,” Takeru continues, swanning his way past a very confused (and tired) Aguni to sit on the edge of the bed just behind the brood of fluffy individuals, “This lovely lady could have given birth on anyone’s bed...but she chose mine.  Why do you think that is?”

“Because you leave the sheets all balled up in the middle and it’s the perfect place for an animal to make a nest?”

“Wrong, but I like how confident you sounded when you said it!”

With his hands pressed together and held in front of his lips, Takeru looks almost prayerful as he very seriously explains his theory.

“A woman alone-- heavily pregnant, scared, and lost in these cold and cruel Borderlands.  Her thoughts shift to her young.  Who will keep them safe?  Who will help take care of them?  That’s when her instincts took over,” Takeru opens his arms, the silken cuffs of his robe pooling around his elbows, “and, using her superior sense of smell, followed her nose to the den of the nearest alpha male for protection.”

Aguni wishes he could say that this is the dumbest thing he’s ever heard. He also wishes he had a cup of coffee (with a healthy glug of Bailey’s in there for good measure) before this whole event took place.

Takeru has since busied himself with the tiny new mother and her young, watching with gentle fascination as the newborns snuffle and snooze against her with unopened eyes and clumsy paws. When he reaches out a ring-bedecked hand to stroke along the bigger one’s head, she gives him a small growl and a pointed glare—to which he laughs and withdraws his touch, saying something cheeky about “the last time she let a man get too close” and quickly following it up with a promise to talk about it “after the kids are asleep.”

Takeru has just held up his hand for a high-five (which Aguni has decided to not reciprocate) when they hear a crash and then a bang and then the thundering thumpthumpthump of angry booted footsteps rapidly approaching their position in the bedroom. For some reason—a reason he’s not very keen to dwell upon at the current moment—Aguni instantly snaps into defense mode, hands curling into fists and shoulders squaring themselves in anticipation of a coming attack.

“WHERE. IS. TERMINATOR!?”

Niragi bursts into the room like a firework, all noise and flash and fire in his eyes. His knuckles strain around the dark of his rifle, ready to shoot at a moment’s notice. Of course, Aguni knows (hopes) he won’t actually resort to filling Takeru full of bullets, but he keeps a close eye on his trigger finger, anyways.

“Ah! There’s my co-parent,” Hatter says with a measure of glee, gesturing with a flourish of his hand towards the cute, hairy pile on his bed, “As you can see, our lovely Terminator is doing very well and—“

“Our? She’s not fucking ours, she’s fucking mine,” Niragi snaps, “and I’m gonna fucking kill you for stealing my cat.”

“Not a cat,” a calm voice says, and Aguni turns to see Last Boss lurking in the doorway, katana sheathed and arms crossed, “She’s a common genet, native to the savanna’s of Africa.”

“Ooh, does that mean the babies have dual citizenship? No, wait,” Hatter claps his hands together with glee, “triple citizenship? Africa, Japan, and the Borderlands?!”

“Africa’s not a country, it’s a continent, dumbass,” Niragi retorts, “and I think we have bigger problems than what’s going to be on their fucking passports.”

It’s probably not the best thing in the world for Aguni to let Takeru and Niragi descend into heated bickering—a back-and-forth of ‘you stole her’ versus ‘no, she chose me’—but Aguni is simply not interested in breaking up their squabbling. Instead he goes to stand by Last Boss, who’s watching the two long-haired men argue like it’s a mildly interesting tennis match.

“So,” Aguni says, “you, uh, seem to know a lot about those things.”

“I did my research when Niragi first brought her back,” Last Boss says calmly, “He’s good with her, but I wanted to make sure we were taking care of her correctly.”

“Did you know she was pregnant?”

“I had my suspicions. Niragi wouldn’t listen, though. Kept telling me she was just fat.”

“Yeah, I thought she was ‘just fat,’” Niragi interjects, his gun no longer pointed at Takeru but a murderous gleam still in his eye, “because this fucking asshole kept feeding her potato chips!”

“Because she loves them,” Takeru shouts back, throwing his arms up in the air, “So shoot me for being a nice guy and sharing my snacks with your weird cat!”

“Don’t,” both Last Boss and Aguni say in unison—which is very uncomfortable for the both of them, but at least it has the desired effect of keeping Niragi from blasting a few dozen holes through Takeru’s person.

With the two of them quickly getting back into their heated back-and-forth, Aguni turns his attention to the creatures on the bed. Somehow, despite all of the noise and excitement, the mother and her babies have curled up and fallen asleep, the rhythmic rise and fall of their bellies a stark contrast to the chaos unfolding around them. Aguni feels jealous, but also, feels bad about feeling jealous because this...Terminator thing has undoubtedly had a rough night, too.

“Luckily,” Last Boss says, “genets are pretty independent creatures. She’ll be fine to take care of the kits on her own, provided that she has access to food and water.”

“So we should just...leave her alone?”

Last Boss shrugs.

“More or less.”

Aguni sighs internally. He sighs externally, too, but the internal sigh is the one that really sums up his thoughts on the whole situation. Just getting one of those hot-headed men to leave those poor animals alone is challenging enough, but both of them? That’s bordering on ‘damn near impossible.’

But, for the sake of those weird fuzzy babies, he has to try.

Takeru jumps when he feels Aguni’s hand on his elbow. He also manages to shut up for a moment, which is a nice bonus. Last Boss has also sprung into action and seems to be talking to Niragi in hushed tones, a hesitant but friendly hand on his shoulder.

“C’mon,” Aguni says, gentle-firm as he guides Takeru into a standing position—much to the other man’s confusion.

“Mori, what—?”

“You’ve had a big night. I’ve had a big night. But do you know whose had the biggest night of us all?” Aguni gestures to the snoozing creatures in front of them, “Terminator. She’s exhausted, and the last thing she needs is the four of us keeping her up. You can stay with me tonight, and we’ll figure the rest out tomorrow.”

“But,” Takeru protests—an iota quieter, now that he’s realized that the pipe on the bed is now a sleeping pile, “we can’t just leave them alone, can we?”

“You’re right. Which is why,” Aguni says, “Last Boss is going to stay with her and keep an eye on things. If he’s okay with that, of course?”

Last Boss offers a solemn nod. Aguni makes a mental note to thank him for this later—maybe he’ll let him pick the music on their next supply run (provided it’s from Aguni’s list of pre-approved artists, of course...)

“You know what? Fucking fine,” Niragi spits, flicking his hair back with a quick jerk of his hand, “it’s too goddamn late to deal with you fucking losers, anyways. I’ll come back to collect my cat and her kittens in the morning.”

Aguni does not risk correcting Niragi on his incorrect terminology regarding his pets—frankly, he’s a little too busy being amazed at how suspiciously easy it was to get him to leave. With a sharp pivot, Niragi is exiting the room in what could be called a ‘brisk saunter,’ no doubt wanting to put as much distance between himself and whatever-the-hell just happened in this room as possible.

Aguni, for once, can relate to Niragi quite well.

With Last Boss keeping vigil over the new little family, Aguni is able to wrangle Takeru away from his room with minimal fuss. It’s probably because the man is very tired—despite multiple claims that he ‘isn’t sleepy yet’ and ‘can stay up for hours.’ This theory is proven when, within a grand total of seven seconds of Takeru flopping face-first onto the middle of Aguni’s bed, he’s managed to slip into what only can be described as a ‘light coma.’

Aguni manages to wrestle a stray pillow away from his sleeping friend’s grasp (he’s a notoriously cuddly sleeper, which has led to some...interesting situations over the course of their friendship) and settles his weary self onto the couch. It’s not quite long enough to accommodate his height, but it’s good enough for what will most likely end up being an extended nap before the sun comes up and he needs to solve whatever other issues have popped up at the Beach overnight.

...But, at least those problems won’t involve babies.

Probably.

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

Also here is a common genet and DAMN SIS U CUTE AS HELL

[sometipsygnostalgic]

What are your thoughts on Star V.S The Forces Of Evil?

I used to follow this show back when it was airing. I had a friend who was absolutely obsessed with StarCo.

Said friend just became super depressed at the finale and stopped talking to us because of it.

Everyone knows the finale of this show is a bit of a dumpster fire. However, the most popular vloggers - such as Blue Order - say that ships like TomStar were "clearly being built up to". This is wrong. The show was clearly baiting StarCo the whole time. It would have impressed me if it actually subverted StarCo but alas we need our series-long-slow-burn-to-finale-kiss :/

i guess they didnt actually kiss in the finale they kissed before then on top of some pigs, which is... better? but

imagine an au where there were a couple for like an entire season or two and we got to see them be a pair ala finn x flame princess, which imo is still one of the best teen relationships ever portrayed on television, realistically awkward and honest and flawed.

i think it was starco which cemented my idea that series finale pairings are bland hetero bullshit. though harry potter movie 8 certainly helped.

I think the point where the fatigue REALLY hit is when they were acting like Tom and Star would get together, then there was Marco and Kelly, and suddenly Marco and Kelly brOKE UP OFFSCREEN and Kelly was written out of the show entirely during the Cleave. Stuck in her own universe. Holy shit. Tom was as well, if I recall? I can't remember where he ended up.

anyway enough about shipping, time for the actual plot.

the first season is a bit agonizing. it has its fun moments but it's mid to low tier. it's commonly agreed that the show peaks at the Toffee storyline, and I totally agree here, there's enough going on emotionally - especially with poor Moon, and when Marco punches Toffee - while still being small scale enough to feel personal. i am also SUPER crazy for the use of dark magic in these early seasons, like the Whispering Spell, or the curse that Eclipsa taught Moon. It was nice that you have these magical girls but not all their magic is light, some of it is very grim.

i found Eclipsa's storyline mostly interesting, but largely wasted potential. I didn't feel like Eclipsa becoming queen was a natural conclusion, since she doesn't WANT to be queen. She wants to run away with her monster husband! To make a comparison, in Adventure Time, an AU in the comics has Marceline become a Queen alongside Bubblegum, but the show itself heavily implies Bubblegum eventually steps down to live her best life with Marceline, and I think the latter is far more fitting. Eclipsa is even closer to Marceline in this regard! I still think Star was a more fitting Queen, even if Eclipsa was the rightful heir, and I was sure season 4 was building to her just giving the throne to Star (before it was eventually destroyed... or not? i don't know).

The whole stuff with Mina in the final season... the thing is, the story wanted us to be invested in the Monsters vs Mewmans war, but spent absolutely no time with any relatable/likable monsters. It just assumed we would automatically be invested in the Right Thing, because Star is, but Star is just an aristocratic ally. She's great and all, and I think the arc she goes through is genuinely good as a maturity storyline, but Star agonizing over all the monsters being discriminated or leaving, it was not fun. The Mewmans themselves were so annoying and agonizingly narrowminded anyway, it’s not like this was a conflict we cared about. 

What I found somewhat ballsy, politically interesting even, was the episode with Moon and the Mewmans who had either been displaced after Eclipsa gave the monsters back their homes, or who left just because they felt uncomfortable with monsters being around. The episode makes it very clear that the Mewmans are largely bigoted assholes, but they're also people, and some of the reparations under Eclipsa actually hurt them. Like a family whose home they had for generations got returned. It's not the fault of the Monsters, it's the fault of Solaris and the kingdom leadership for invading the monster homes and putting Mewmans into it, rather than working on solving the problems within her own kingdom.

As a result, even though Moon has not made any political statements against Eclipsa, she finds herself surrounded by a bubble of displaced or agitated Mewmans who do not want to integrate with monsters, and as the former Queen, she feels it is her responsibility to look out for these idiots. But what makes her different from Star is that Moon herself has a hatred of monsters, especially because of what Toffee did to her family ( yet it turns out Toffee only existed BECAUSE of her family). So Moon hasn't decided what she thinks is right, and has a pseudo nation forming around her, while Star has already set her mind on doing the right thing but is losing a lot of allies over it. This episode made the world feel more alive to me!

Unfortunately the way this arc was concluded was aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. Namely, whatever the fuck Moon did with bringing the Solaris soldiers to life (WHY??? WHY WOULD SHE EVER DO THAT? SHE WOULD NEVER RISK STAR GETTING KILLED), versus the whole "destruction of magic" (WHAT), and finally the Cleave????????????

Because fusing the two worlds together is clearly the best solution, anyway don't mind that we literally destroyed all magic for some reason, only the magical beings you dont care about died or got debiliated (which makes no sense but whatever).

Overall a decent show mired by romance nonsense and by a misguided attempt at politics for two groups that nobody gives a shit about.

[twinkleallnight]

A Twisted Tale

Chapter 1

Book: The Royal Romance AU

Word count: 1787

Characters: Liam, Leo, Riley.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to pixelberry.

Rating: Mature

Warning: None.

A/N: An AU of The Royal Romance paving its way through mixed emotions of wants, needs and desires, of revenge and regrets, of trust, faith and hope.

A joint venture brought to you with love by @annekebbphotography and @twinkleallnight .

Liam’s POV

It is one of those days again. I have to attend a UN function and I am not looking forward to it. There’s more than one reason, one is that none of my friends have joined me for this function, and the other reason is that the girl I am pinning for doesn’t want anything to do with me. How in the world will I win her over? I have tried everything, but I am almost sure she sees me as my father.

I look myself over in the floor length mirror, I look the same as always, the regal king. Did I want to be king? No, but when my father died unexpectedly and my brother took off, I had no choice but to take over. That is when things changed for me and now, I am fighting an inner battle with myself.

After a short drive, I walk into the hotel where the UN function was being held. Like always everything is posh and regal. What I wouldn’t give for something to be a little different. I scan the room and my eyes land on a petite brunette. She has a pink floor length dress on, it hugs her curves perfectly. My feet follow their own path as they walk over to her. She isn’t like everyone else, she’s open and her smile is divine.

I freeze as my heart stops when she laughs. Why am I feeling like this when I am in love with someone else? Maybe it’s just because I am feeling lonely.

She turns around and locks eyes with me and I swear I feel my heart skip a beat. She’s got the most dazzling blue eyes, but it doesn’t compare to the eyes that haunt my dreams. What I wouldn’t give to be with my love right now.

“Hi, I’m Riley Brooks.” She holds her hand out to me to shake. I take her small hand in mine and smile at her.

“Liam Rys.”

Her eyes go wide and she drops in a curtsy. Her cheeks have a faint pink tint to them.

“No formalities please. It’s just us.” I give her a reassuring smile.

“It’s nice to meet you.” She says relieved.

There was something about her that made me want to get to know her better, not romantically, but as friends. She makes me feel at ease.

A song comes up and I give her a wicked grin as she shakes her head from side to side. “Would you like to dance?” I hold my hand out to her as everyone else watches us.

“I would love to dance.” She says through gritted teeth and takes my hand. I lead her to the dance floor and pull her closer to me.

We move together perfectly, she leans in. “I am so going to get you for this.” She whispers, and for some reason that statement excites me.

“Do your worst.” I twirl her out and pull her back to me. She laughs as we move around the dance floor perfectly.

After the song ends, we walk off the dance floor and towards the bar.

“You are not what I expected. When they told me that a king was going to be here, I thought he was going to be old and uptight. I am happy it’s you though.” She glances at me to see my expression. All I could do was smile at her.

We order our drinks and take a seat at one of the tables. We talk about everything and anything.

I learned that she has a political degree and has applied for a PA position in Europe. I also learn that it is just her, no family and that she hopes to find that special someone one day. She is the fresh air that I need in my life.

I look at my watch and see that It’s almost time for me to meet Leo, but I don’t want to say goodbye to Riley just yet.

“What would you say if I offered you an PA position at the palace?” I ask without hesitation. I need a personal assistant and with what I see and heard, she will be perfect for the position.

“Are you being serious right now?” She basically jumps up and down in her seat.

“Yes… I want you to be my personal assistant. You will have to come back to Cordonia with me tomorrow.” I raise my brow and wait for her to explode with excitement.

“I would love to. Where should I meet you and what time?” Her eyes sparkle with excitement and I can’t help but get lost in them.

“Meet me at the airport at 8am. The flight leaves at 8:30. Please don’t be late.” I look at my watch again and know that I have to leave right now.

“I will be there.” She smiles as I get up.

“I have to go. I will see you tomorrow.” I lean down and kiss her cheek. It doesn’t feel the same as when I kiss HER. The one that has had my heart for so many years. I need to speak to Leo, he would be able to help me get my mind right.

I give Riley one more wave before I walk out of the room heading to where I have to meet Leo.

*******************

I walk into a dimly lit bar and see my elder brother sitting at the bar. He looks happy and relaxed.

“Sorry, I’m late…” I apologise.

Leo smirks at me. “Your majesty!” He curtsies teasing me.

“Always the funny one. How have you been brother?”

I take a seat next to him as he pushes a glass of whiskey over to me. I need this so badly. I have two pairs of eyes haunting me right now.

“ Never felt better.” Maybe he is trying to express his new found freedom after abdication.

“Are you alright little brother? You seem delusional.”

I have as I take a sip of whiskey letting it burn my throat as it goes down.

He continues prodding. “Are the kingly affairs burdening you or the extra affection for the king from the fairer sex exhausting you?”

“I…. I’m confused….” Leo raises his brow at me motioning for me to continue talking. “I’m in love with someone but she hates me or should I say our family. Or that’s what I gathered. And then tonight I met a girl with the most dazzling blue eyes and the sweetest personality. But she’s just not Her….” Leo nods in understanding.

“Green versus blue or green versus brown.. maybe we Rhys men are always in a dilemma to choose.”

I know he is comparing my situation with his own. Referring to Madeleine’s green and Kate’s brown.

“It’s not for me choosing. I know who I want, she just doesn’t want me. To make it worse I am taking the girl I met, back to Cordonia with me.

“Woah! You mean you have your baklava in the freezer back at home and you are buying cronuts to take home?”

I spit the whiskey I had just taken a sip of, out and cough. “What…. No not at all. She will be my new assistant.”

Leo sits there unaffected just smiling at my state. “The assistant, like the billionaire’s assistant from the romantic books?” He nudges.

“Nooo, it will strictly be professional….” I get half a smile as I take a small sip again. “And maybe a bit to make someone jealous.” I know I am all confident with Leo,but let’s face it I will never do anything more than just attend functions with her.

“All work and no play makes the king a dull boy”. Leo tries to push in his playboy streak.

“I will have you known that I am not dull at all. I have my fun.” I say a matter of a fact.

Leo’s eyes widen to take in the new image of his younger brother displayed in front of him.

“Close your mouth big brother, you will catch a fly.” It’s my turn to tease.

Leo’s open mouth turns into a wide grin. “I will make sure to follow ‘The Trend’ to read about your adventures. Make the Rhys blood proud, baby brother!” He raises his glass in a toast. “So what advice are you looking for Li?”

I consider him for a moment. What did I want from him?

“How do I make Her fall in love with me? How do I make her see I am more than just a Rhys.”

“You have been drooling over that girl since you grew balls. Had it been me, by now I would have given her the magic of my physical therapy. That always works for me.”

I wince at the imagination of my brother in action. Before Leo can give more varied ideas I raise my hand. “ I think that’s enough food for thought.”

Leo shrugs, “ As you wish. I would still say, be bold and try taking some risk. What fun life is without a bit of adrenaline rush?”

I nod and ask for the bill.

On that note, I bid Leo farewell and get back to my hotel to prepare for the journey back home.

********

I wake up with a heavy headache the next morning. Why can’t I get the two ladies out of my head. It is like they are playing ping pong in my mind. ‘I need to get back home. I need to make Her see that I care about her. I need her to see that I am not like my father.’ I get ready with that thought.

*************

I have been waiting for Riley at the tarmac. She messaged that she was running late. I think of calling Her in the meantime. I heard the phone ringing and it dragged me into her thoughts.

She must be sitting at her tea table at this hour. Her slender manicured fingers playing at the rim of the cup making circles. Her pink lips touching the porcelain softly, sipping the hot beverage. The skin on her throat would be moving slowly, warming up as she would swallow her drink. I have imagined my fingers over her silk smooth neck, many times. Her sharp voice pulls me back from my day dream. “Hello” At the same time when Riley calls, “Hey Liam. Sorry I got late.”

I signal Riley to hold on for a minute.

“Good evening to you, Olivia .”

Olivia snaps, “You are with someone? And calling me?” She abruptly hangs up with that.

My head is hung low. Riley looks at me questioning.

All I can utter is, “Bad timing!”

∆|∆|∆|∆|∆|∆|∆|∆|∆|∆|∆|∆|∆|∆|∆|∆|∆|∆|∆

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[carrotycake]

the world put you in front of me (and we aligned)

A chance encounter at an Ishgardian dance, and Ysayle finds herself falling in love all over again.

4.1k words | Rated M | FFXIV | Estinien/Ysayle pairing | AO3

*

It’s funny, Ysayle thinks. She has spent so much of her life fighting and despising everything the nation of Ishgard stood for, that to be standing here, on the balcony of one of Ishgard’s largest manors, feels a tad hypocritical. For the first time, she appreciates the beauty of the land stretching out in front of her, the late-night sunset (which is as close to a summer as Coerthas gets) casting orange and pink hues across the grey pointed spires of the city itself. She rests her arms on the balustrade, observing the chatter of guests down below. It is oddly peaceful, despite her protestations at being invited in the first place. And still bitterly cold, of course, despite it being summer. Ysayle, shivering, rubs her hands together in an attempt to warm herself up; she had left her coat inside and the thin fabric of her gown was not nearly enough to ward off the freezing night air.

She sighs, her breath exhaling into a cloud of mist in front of her. Had she not gone by the name ‘Iceheart’ for years, revered by her heretic followers? She had survived many harsh Coerthas winters, only for her to shiver now at the merest hint of a breeze. Admittedly, she had found the warmth of the ballroom inside to be a little much, packed as it was with nobles, commoners, and politicians alike. The fresh air, cold as it was, was extremely welcome.

It was Aymeric, of course, that was behind the ball, and her invite to it – the Warrior of Light’s dear friend, and perhaps the most influential man in the city. Endlessly charming, he had persuaded her that it was an olive branch, of sorts, to mend the rifts between heretics and men. And – well, she had wanted to make amends. Lead those who walked after, and all that.

“Out here enjoying the festivities, I see?”

A familiar voice drags her from her thoughts, and she turns to see the tall, lithe body of Estinien crouching carefully on the gables above the double doors leading back into the ballroom. She frowns, irritated that he had caught her unawares in a moment of introspection.

“How long have you been sitting there?”

He shrugs, getting to his feet and gracefully hopping onto the ground beside her; ever the dragoon, she notes. He’s not in the armour he wore the last time they had seen each other, before Azys Lla. Like Ysayle, he is dressed in an approximation of Ishgardian formal wear, his long white hair tied in a loose half-ponytail. He’s handsome, her mind helpfully supplies, and she wills the thought away before it becomes trouble.

“Long enough,” he replies, leaning on the railing a fulm or two away from her, his gaze distant. He frowns. “Formal…balls aren’t really my thing. I needed some air. And – a break from drunk nobles trying to get me to dance with their offspring.”

Ysayle chuckles, despite herself. “I must admit, I did not recognise you at first. You clean up well, when you’re not head to toe in dragon blood.”

He bows his head. If Ysayle is not mistaken, she sees the hint of a blush colour his pale cheeks.

“Well,” he mutters, “You are the opposite, Iceheart. I believe there was not a soul in that room that did not notice you upon entering.”

She raises an eyebrow. “In a good way, or a bad way? Pray, do elaborate.”

Estinien splutters for a second. “Well, I – It is a nice dress. That is all I meant. No doubt the haberdashers will be inundated with requests for similar styles by tomorrow morning.”

A slightly backhanded compliment, but a compliment, nonetheless. “Damned by faint praise, I see.”

She turns to look back towards the sunset. “It is actually one of Tataru’s creations, so they’ll have a hard time prying the pattern from her little hands.”

Tataru had taken over creative control of this project, because formal dances were certainly not Ysayle’s area of expertise, and the Lalafell had been only too happy to help out. The light, drapey cerulean fabric of the dress belied the traditional Ishgardian style, but Ysayle had never cared much for tradition anyway. It was pinned and tucked beautifully, with embroidered details on the neckline and hem. It even – scandalously – showed off a little cleavage, something Ysayle wasn’t necessarily unhappy with.

They stand like that together, a little distance apart, for a few minutes; enjoying the last rays of the sun in what appears to be a companionable silence. How many times had they done this, a mere few months ago? Accompanied by Alphinaud and the Warrior of Light, of course, but together nonetheless. Sunsets always seemed even more spectacular when seen on islands beyond the clouds. Ysayle had never thought to see such beauty again in her lifetime; she had expected to die on Azys Lla, one last act of service as Shiva.

The gods, as it happened, must have had other plans, as she’d fallen from that great height and landed in the middle of a Vanu Vanu outpost; the last remnants of Shiva’s protection shielding her from further harm in the fall. Word had gotten back to Camp Cloudtop of her survival, and she had eventually woken in the infirmary in the centre of Ishgard. Mere days after her own discharge, and Estinien was staying there under the very same care as she had.

She had avoided visiting, though, despite Alphinaud’s almost-insistence that she do so. She had never thought this far ahead in life; now there was peace, real peace, and her old role was no longer needed. Lord Aymeric, introduced through the Warrior of Light, had requested her help in rehabilitating the remaining heretics and repairing the city in exchange for a pardon for her crimes, and she was not about to turn down such an offer. The Scions had allies, and she herself was still blessed with Hydaelyn’s gift, so she might as well make herself useful.

In quieter moments, however, her mind always drifted back to Estinien. She admitted to being a little disappointed when he disappeared from Ishgard without a trace after his recuperation; the small, naïve girl within her longed to believe that they could have been…something, more than just acquaintances passing in the night.

“You are deep in thought, my lady,” he says, a statement more than a question. Ever with the formalities, even when they were at each other’s throats with opposite ideals.

She shakes her head. “Just reminiscing. My life has taken on a trajectory I could not have anticipated before I had met you and your allies. I have much to be grateful for.”

“I admit, I was – glad to hear you had lived. My own fortunes were, you could say, not so lucky after our victory on Azys Lla. I did not hear about – you – until after I had awoken in the infirmary.” Estinien looked – embarrassed, perhaps? Ysayle could not tell, in the dim light of the evening.

“I-” He falters, swallowing. “I wanted to apologise. For things I have said. Knowing now the full truth of the war betwixt man and dragon, I – I said some unkind things. ‘Twas not your fault that I was ignorant.”

Ysayle takes a moment to think on his words. They were not the people they once were, after all. The truth, she thinks, has changed them both. She looks at him, then – he does not shy away from her eye contact – and nods.

“Apology accepted. For what it’s worth, I have a great deal to apologise for as well. My conscience is not clear, by any means.”

Estinien cracks a small smile. (She tries not to think that a smile suits him. It really does.)

“Aye, that is true.”

Their conversation was momentarily interrupted by a change of music from the ballroom – a slightly faster tune, reminiscent of folk tunes Ysayle heard as a child at communal dances in Falcon’s Nest. It was clearly designed to bring more couples onto the dance floor, and was so far having the intended effect. Ysayle could see the Warrior of Light, dressed in finery (another of Tataru’s creations), swinging Alphinaud a little too fast round in circles on the dancefloor. Aymeric could be seen, too, dancing politely with Hilda; commoners and nobles alike danced merrily to the band’s music. If this was their new republic, Ysayle thinks, then she quite likes it.

It is this train of thought that compels Ysayle with more bravado than she has; not thinking about where it might lead, she turns to her brooding companion.

“Well, when all is said and done-” She holds out a hand to Estinien, “Care for a dance?”

His brow furrows. “I’ve never- I mean. Forgive me, Ysayle. I’m not much of a dancer.”

She smiles lightly. “Neither am I. But we are alone, for the time being. Indulge me.”

“As you wish,” he frowns, still a tad reluctant, but he takes her outstretched hand regardless and pulls her close and Ysayle thinks, oh.

Oh no.

It has been a long time since she has been this close, physically, with anyone, and she wonders if Estinien can feel her heart thudding loudly in her chest. They stumble at first, taking a few attempts to figure out the rhythm of the song versus the clumsiness of their feet, but eventually settle into a gentle waltz.

Ysayle is acutely aware of the position of Estinien’s hand on the small of her back; its warmth – and he is so warm – practically burning through her dress. They are closer than they need to be, exactly, for the formality of ballroom dance, but Ysayle finds that she does not mind. He is avoiding her eyes now (deliberately, she thinks), so she instead concentrates on the position of her hand on his shoulder, her other hand clasped tightly in his as they circle aimlessly together across the balcony.

“So,” he begins, uncertainly, once they’d found their rhythm, “Where did you learn to dance, then? You seem to have more of a head for it than I.”

Ysayle smiles. “A little, as a child. And we had plenty of impromptu dances when I was-” When I was with the heretics¸ she would have said. Another time, in another life. Estinien, evidently noticing her hesitation, raises an eyebrow.

“Forgive me, my lady, but I simply cannot imagine a band of heretics indulging in such trivial things as dances whilst plotting the fall of Ishgard.”

“You are a fool, then, if you believe that we did nothing but sit around and curse the Holy See whilst getting drunk on dragon’s blood,” Ysayle scowls, swinging Estinien round a little more forcibly than she had intended. He stumbles, a little, before righting himself.

“I did not give much thought to the heretics unless they were forcibly attacking the city,” Estinien says, his tone serious, but the quiet glint in his eyes relaying a certain kind of humour. Ysayle rolls her eyes. He always knew exactly how to push her buttons to get her riled up when they were travelling together, and it seems not much has changed.

“I’ll have you know,” she huffs, “Lord Aymeric himself requested my assistance in restoring the city-”

“To avoid a jail sentence, yes,” Estinien has an eyebrow raised, smirking. He positions his arms just so, allowing her to dip backwards as part of the dance. His arms are secure, holding her in place perfectly before swooping her back up. They continue their circles together, Estinien chuckling at Ysayle’s irritation.

“For someone of little skill, you have picked up this dance remarkably fast,” she comments, her face flushed – from the exertion of the dance, or from Estinien’s attention, she was yet unsure.

“I’m a fast learner,” he says, and was it her imagination or was he a little closer to her than before? He stares resolutely ahead, his expression faintly jovial, and Ysayle tries not think about how good his arms felt holding her up.

The upbeat song currently playing comes to a close and, after a brief interlude, a new one starts up, slower than the previous one. Adjusting their pace accordingly, she thinks back a few months to their expedition together. Gods, she had not cared for the dragoon upon first meeting him. He was narrow-minded, and brash, and had been all-too willing to fight and kill the very creatures they were trying to make their allies without a second thought.

And yet – she had grown to like him, over those many days travelling. At first, the attraction had been purely physical. He was handsome, after all, and Ysayle had caught a peek of him removing his armour to see chiselled muscles and a wiry frame; something inside of her had fluttered, momentarily, when he had removed his helmet in front of her for the first time, revealing uncharacteristically soft, fair hair and deep-set blue eyes.

“Don’t get used to this,” he’d muttered, noticing her looking at him. “I can’t eat your soup with a helmet on.”

She’d blushed, then, almost as much as she was surely blushing now.

Even with Estinien’s growing connection to the Eye of Nidhogg – she’d felt it, creeping, growing, gnawing at him even as they travelled together – and his insistence that killing the wyrm was the best solution, she had caught glimpses of a kinder man underneath his harsh determination. Alphinaud had seen it too, as had the Warrior of Light. It endeared him to her, whether she wanted it to or not. And in the long weeks that had followed her miraculous survival, there had been much time for her to dwell on these thoughts.

Halone’s tits, she was in it now, wasn’t she?

It occurs to Ysayle, just then, that the slow pace of the current song meant that their little, secluded waltz had become less of a dance and more just – swaying gently, endlessly circling, not really paying attention to any kind of rhythm. The whole world, for a second, felt like it was just the two of them, the stars aligning to bring them together in a single moment.

“Your hands are cold,” Estinien murmurs, and she forgets for a moment that she still had one of his hands in hers. Usually a woman of great eloquence, she suddenly finds she is tongue-tied, she cannot speak-

“Y-yes, well. Perhaps it is you that is warm,” she whispers, her breath hitching in her throat as he brings her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. He almost seems surprised at his own boldness, his eyes crinkling in a rare bit of humour at her response.

“Mayhap,” he replies. The night is almost completely upon them now, the only light illuminating their faces being the candlelight from the outside lanterns and the ballroom itself. Their eyes meet, Estinien’s expression unusually soft.

Ysayle is not sure who makes the first move but suddenly his lips are on hers, her arms snaking around his neck, his hands on her hips, guiding them in a new kind of dance. In the end, it does not matter, because she is kissing him, and it is suddenly all she can think about. How long had she thought of this moment? How long had she imagined what Estinien’s kiss would feel like? It was, in truth, longer than she would care to admit.

He kisses with the air of someone who does not have a huge amount of practice, but makes up for whatever experience he lacks with strong, guiding hands; Ysayle soon finds herself pressed up against the iron railings of the balcony, the coldness of the metal on her back in sharp contrast to Estinien’s warm embrace. She feels goosebumps on Estinien’s neck where she is touching him; – yes, her hands are always cold, so cold – she moves a hand round to his lapel, using it to anchor herself to him and pull him closer, ever closer.

They break apart to catch their breath, and she looks up at his face, flushed as red as she’d ever seen it, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Do you, perchance, have a residence in Ishgard, Ysayle?” he breathes, still so close to her. Ysayle knows where this is going, knows where this might end up. And she wants it, Halone knows she does.

“That depends,” she says, curling a lock of his hair around her finger. Estinien exhales, almost impatient.

“On?”

Ysayle pulls away, just enough to see his face fully. “Is this…something you want? Truly?” Am I someone you want? She doesn’t say it, but the words settle between them anyway.

He frowns, a trademark scowl, and grasps the hand currently playing with his hair.

“It is. I am not one to deliver undue suffering to a soul such as yourself. And-” He looks flustered, struggling to articulate, “-this is something I have thought about often. In times of difficulty. The possibility of…something more.”

Oh.

“Well then,” she murmurs, his answer more than satisfactory, “In that case, I have a small apartment in the lower wards of the city.”

“I would very much like to get out of here,” Estinien replies, pressing a kiss to her cheek, another along her jawline. She lets her nails scratch the back of his head, just a little, privately enjoying the effect it seems to have on him.

“If you would permit me, my lady-” He breaks away suddenly, a spark of mischief in his eyes, and scoops her up bridal-style. She splutters, wriggling.

“What are you doing?!”

He peers over the edge of the balcony cautiously. “Avoiding any odd stares we might receive from my good friend’s guests. Now, hold still.”

Before Ysayle has any chance to protest, Estinien bends his knees and leaps, and Ysayle’s heart is rushing, the wind howling in her ears momentarily, and it is not far off what a dragon in flight feels like-

He lands, gracefully, some distance away from the mansion, and places her back on her feet with an uncharacteristic amount of care.

Hand in hand, she leads him through the lamp-lit streets, following well-worn paths to the lower area of Ishgard. More than once he catches her against a wall in a bruising kiss, so the walk takes considerably longer than it normally might on one’s own, but Ysayle is too busy wrapped up in Estinien’s arms to care.

The night is fully upon them now, so upon reaching Ysayle’s apartment there is a small amount of stumbling in the dark until she manages to find a lantern. Estinien, helpful as ever, is predictably distracting as she reaches for a pack of matches, hindered by his hands on her waist as he caresses her from behind.

“You know a lantern isn’t really necessary,” he growls, apparently eager. She rolls her eyes – realises too late that it was a gesture he could not see – and bats him away, momentarily.

“I don’t know about you,” she retorts, “But I like to see my lovers when I’m in bed with them.” She manages to strike a small flame into the lantern, illuminating them both in dim, soft candlelight.

Estinien raises an eyebrow, tailing after her as she leads him to the bedroom. “And has the Lady Iceheart had many lovers, in the past?”

She places the lantern down on the chest of drawers with a thunk. “A few. Borne out of convenience, mostly. Some out of love. All enjoyable, for the most part.”

It might have been a cold way of looking at it, but her time leading the heretics had come with its perks, namely that there was no shortage of people interested in her and her powers. She would never have dared manipulate anyone into sex or abuse her power in any way, but she had not been without company, had she so wanted it.  

“And what about the famed Azure Dragoon?” she says, her tone a little more defensive than she had intended, “I’m sure the position comes with its own amount of attention.”

“Some,” he concedes, “But for the most part, I preferred to spend my free time training. A few dalliances, here and there. Nothing serious.”

Ysayle nods. Fair enough, she thinks. You’d have to be out of your mind if you actually wanted to sleep with that grouchy, stubborn arse of a dragoon anyway. Yet here she was.

“Well then,” she says, instead, “I still wish for your company tonight, if you’ll have me.”

Estinien is already against her, capturing her mouth in his and lifting her – a little roughly, not that she minds – onto the bed. “I was hoping we would get to that eventually,” he grins, wickedly.

“You’re an arse,” she replies, but there is no heart in the insult, not really. There’s not much time for thinking, after that, and she is happy to lose herself in Estinien’s arms for the time being.

Ysayle wakes from what might have been the most restful night’s sleep she’s had in some time. She casts a sleepy glance over her small apartment; the curtains had been left half-drawn the night previously, and the morning light was casting a bright glare across her bed, and the sleeping souls that lay within.

Ah, right.

Estinien is still sound asleep next to her; they must have moved apart in slumber during the night, but she distinctly remembers falling asleep in his arms. For the first time, she sees him and all of his scars in full daylight, and fights the urge to trace them gently with her fingertips. She settles for brushing his bangs out of his eyes; he is so peaceful in sleep, she thinks, his usual furrowed brow replaced with one of general content.

There are bruises too, newer ones, scattering across his neck and chest. Ysayle blushes, a little, because she knows that she is the one who put them there, and that there are similar marks on her own body. They will be covered with clothes, eventually, but for now they sit as a reminder of newfound passions and a lover she can’t quite forget.

His eyes flutter open, and an immediate scowl crosses his face as he adjusts to the bright light streaming in.

“Gods, do you always wake this early? To this kind of racket?” His voice is raspy with sleep, his long hair a little dishevelled.

She throws him a mock-frown. “Usually I remember to shut the curtains. I might have been…a little distracted last night.” She runs a finger along his jaw, lifting his chin so that she could lean and kiss him. He leans into her touch, a different kind of reverence.

“Ah,” he says, softly, when she pulls away, “Yes, that would make sense.”

Their clothes, haphazardly rumpled on a nearby chair would also suggest a measure of distraction. They had only paused long enough last night for Estinien to peel off Ysayle’s dress and his own clothes and place them somewhere off of the ground before continuing his ministrations.

“I don’t have anywhere to be today,” she says, by way of invitation, unsure as to how her overture would be received now that it was morning. Morning, bringing with it clarity, and the uncertain light of day. Estinien may not want anything more than whatever the previous night had been.

To his credit, though, Estinien reaches for her and brushes a few strands of silver hair behind her ear.

“Me neither,” he says, and Ysayle’s heart thuds in relief, “What activities have you planned? Lunch out, mayhap?”

This elicits a laugh from her, despite herself.

“Mm,” she smiles, “Maybe later. For now, I want you all to myself.”

Estinien responds in kind, using his advantage of strength and centre of balance to hold her firmly by the waist and flip her over, laying on her back.

“That can be arranged.”

His eyes are dark with want, and Ysayle finds that it pleases her greatly to be able to obtain this kind of reaction from him. She wants – well, she wants Estinien. All of him. Now. Obviously.

What she really wants, though, is Estinien for longer. Knowing that they might have something to come back to, a home found in each other’s hearts – the thought terrifies her, as it wasn’t something easily articulated to her stoic lover. Still, she thinks, perhaps in time.

For now, she has the man she wants in her bed, and that is enough.

[kingstylesdaily]

Stevie Nicks Answers All Our Questions About Harry Styles

Of all the disciples to worship at the altar of Stevie Nicks, none have managed to capture the attention of rock’s reigning priestess quite like Harry Styles.

The 26-year-old rocker (who this week received three Grammy nominations) is the Gucci-clad poster boy carrying the torch for a bygone era of music history that the Fleetwood Mac frontwoman helped crystallize. Styles recently cited the group’s 1977 (and still charting) classic “Dreams” as one of the first songs he learned the words to growing up. Their friendship began in 2015 after the former One Direction member presented his idol with a hand-piped birthday cake after a Fleetwood Mac gig in London. (“Glad she liked carrot cake,” he later said.) The years since have seen the duo’s mutual affection blossom into one of pop culture’s most cherished bondings.

Last year, when Styles inducted Nicks into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, he proclaimed the 72-year-old “everything you’ve ever wanted in a lady, a lover, in a friend.” Nicks has gushed about him in interviews as everything from “the son she never had” to her “love child” with bandmate Mick Fleetwood. Styles earned her official seal of approval after covering “The Chain” every night of his first solo tour in support of a record that sounds closer to Crosby, Stills & Nash than anything he released under his prior band.

“Harry could’ve lost a lot of fans, but he didn’t,” Nicks recently told Vogue over the phone. “I’m so proud of him because he took a risk and didn’t go the One Direction route. He loves One Direction, I love One Direction, and a gazillion other people do too, but Harry didn’t wanna go the pop route. He wanted straight-up rock and roll circa 1975.”  

Nicks has been embracing some of the busiest years of her dual careers as both Fleetwood Mac frontwoman and solo sorceress—and doing so amid a global pandemic. Since she last performed with Styles at the Forum for his Fine Line release show in December, she’s released a 24 Karat Gold concert film and “Show Them the Way,” her politically minded single and first piece of original music in six years. After Miley Cyrus asked for Nicks’s blessing before releasing her “Edge of Seventeen”–tinged “Midnight Sky,” the two joined forces for an exhilarating new mash-up titled “Edge of Midnight.”

In honor of Styles making history as the magazine’s first solo cover boy, Nicks caught up with Vogue to answer all our questions about their cosmic connection. Currently beachside with her quarantine bubble in Hawaii, she’s been doing what one would expect Stevie Nicks to be up to during a pandemic: writing new music, dancing around her house to “Watermelon Sugar,” and “casting little spells.” As befitting rock’s foremost storyteller, our intended 30-minute chat turned into a two-hour confessional about her love of Styles, working with Cyrus for the first time, joining Fleetwood Mac, the president-elect Joe Biden, the Met Gala, betta fish funerals, and much more.

ksd note: edited to only include Q&A about Stevie and Harry!

Did you get a chance to look through Harry’s cover story yet?  

Right before I called you, I sat here and looked at all the pictures on my new iPad. What can I say? That’s my Harry. I think the thing that’s most wonderful about him—and I’ve told him this, and sometimes I think he takes it the wrong way—is that he’s such a kooky guy. He’s the type of person you’d wanna live next door to. He’d look out the window, see you having a hard time planting flowers, and rush out asking, “Can I help you with those roses?” “Sure, but you are Harry Styles, right?” That’s who he is.

I really only know him to a certain extent, but I have gotten to experience some big moments in his life, like when he released his first solo record at the Troubadour. I always think of Tom Petty saying, “So, you wanna be a rock star or you wanna be a pop star?” It’s two completely different things, and he really could have gone pop like his friend Zayn [Malik]. I was sorry that Zayn didn’t keep going more because I thought he was really good. But he took the pop route, which I think was right for him. Harry could’ve lost a lot of fans doing rock and roll, but he didn’t. Harry did a long tour with that first record and said, “I’m a different person now. I have a full-on rock band, and this is what I’m gonna do.” With many of my records, I’ll stuff down peoples’ throats until they like it, and that’s exactly what he did. Then he went away and wrote Fine Line, one of my favorite records.

What were your immediate thoughts listening to Fine Line for the first time?

Me and four of my friends sat with Harry in his living room  in London and listened to it a few times before it came out. But it wasn’t really Fine Line yet. The first time we listened to it, nobody really said anything. The second time everyone started to go, “I think this song is great, but it should be second in the sequence.” By the third listen, it was five girls screaming, “Well, Harry really now, I think you need to take these four that are called Harry Songs and do this and that—” while he’s sinking in his reclining chair thinking, Are these women ever gonna leave? Thanks for your opinions, but oh, my God, stop already.  

What changed when you heard the record in it’s finished form?

This record means a lot to me. When it was all put together, I listened and said, “Oh, my god, the Beatles live.” A whole lot of people live in these songs. Fleetwood Mac lives there. I live there. When I listen to “Fine Line,” I hear melodies that would’ve worked on “A Day in the Life. “It has that same kind of complexity. I think the Beatles would’ve thought, Here we’ve influenced a young man who took some incredible things from us and made them his own years and years later.

Earlier this year you posted a message saying that Fine Line is Harry’s Rumours. Can you elaborate on what you meant by that?

When Harry asked me to do “Landslide” with him at the Forum, I asked why, and he said, “Because I want you to be there. You were there for my first night at the Troubadour for the first record.” That night I wrote him a letter that said, “This is your Rumours so you have to really respect it and adore it because these kinds of records sometimes don’t ever come again.” Fleetwood Mac went on to make many great records, but people would bet their life on the fact that Rumours was the one. And this might just be the one for Harry. We were all kind of the same age when we made Rumours. I was 28, and Lindsey [Buckingham] was 27. I actually don’t even know how old Harry is—he’s that timeless to me.

Do you have a personal favorite of his songs?

Every one represents a different thing to me. “Sunflower” is such a great little song. He loves to do crazy videos, and one time I called him and said, “I have an idea. You’re gonna be a bee, and the sunflower would be your girlfriend, and you guys would get married and live in a beehive with your little bee children. You’d sing the lyrics ‘kiss in the kitchen like it’s a dance floor duh duh duh’ and show this entire bee relationship.” 

What did he think of that pitch?

When I finished, the other end of the phone was silent. I said, “No, really, think about it. It’ll be fantastical like a Francis Ford Coppola movie.” He’s like, “Yeah, okay...” [laughs]. I also love the “Adore You” video with the little fish because I have my own special relationships with fish.

In what sense?

I always have two beta fish, but they have to be separated otherwise they’ll kill each other. I stick my finger into their aquarium, and the blue one will swim around my hand like a little dolphin. When my fish get old and suddenly die, I have funerals for them in my backyard where I play Celine Dion. I have them filmed, and everything [laughs]. It’s too much, but I thankfully haven’t had any recent fish deaths. I haven’t even been able to sit down and show Harry the videos of my little fish, so when I saw the “Adore You” video, I couldn’t believe it.

Why is it important for you to foster these relationships with younger artists like Harry who’ve been so openly influenced by you?

I’m inspired by them. I’m inspired that Miley wants to make music with me. I’m inspired that the Haim girls are my biggest fans—and I theirs. A lot of these kids are making the amazing records I’ve been waiting for them to make. I’m not like other 72-year-olds. I listen to current music because I want to be current. When people find out how old I am versus the music I’m listening to, they think it doesn’t gel at all. I’ve been collecting musical knowledge since I was in the fourth grade listening to the singles my grandfather used to bring home. I listened to Buddy Holly and the Everly Brothers until the sixth grade when R&B radio became Top 40. I said goodbye country and hello R&B, so it’s not like I’m ever stuck on one thing. What I love about Harry is that he’s very old school but still modern. And that’s kinda like me.

You both also transitioned from massive groups to equally massive solo careers rather seamlessly.

When I decided I wanted to be a solo artist, I’d only been in Fleetwood Mac for a few years. I tried to figure out a way to do it gracefully because I didn’t wanna break up the band. I just wanted to sit at my piano and write poetry. After we did a record and a really long tour, the band scurried off to different parts of the world while I’d just be home writing songs for a year and a half. What did they care what I did while they were all on vacation? I’ve always said all the way through these two careers I’ve had: If you’re in a band first, never break it up.

Do you think One Direction would ever reunite?

I think it’s a good idea. For all we know, One Direction is completely broken up forever. But I think those guys are friends, and five or ten years down the road, they could all go, “You know what, wouldn’t it be really fun to do a One Direction tour?” Because that’s what people do. I wouldn’t be surprised if they did reunite at some point just because they can. And because it would just be fun. Harry is the kind of person who would never stomp on that idea. He would never say, [imitates posh English accent] “Never! I would never do that again!” Because why not just keep the door open?

Was there any particular detail or passage in Harry’s cover story that stuck out to you?

According to this article, he can get in a car with his friend to drive all over Europe then drive back by himself. I stopped driving in 1978 because my driver’s license expired and I’d already made a lot of money. I very smartly thought, “You know what, if someone even hits you and it’s not even your fault but you’re a little drunk, you are done. You’re finished, and the fortune that you’ve made is gone, so why should you drive anyway?” By then me and Christine were very cloistered, but Harry’s able to live a freer life because he’s a guy. He’s like Mick. He has a free life.

Would you say that you don’t?

I’m only comparing us in the way that Harry goes off to the Bahamas to work on songs, then flies back to L.A., then London, then Italy—I can’t do that. I can’t do that by myself. He’s able to do whatever he wants by himself, and it’s a whole different way of life. Being that Harry is a guy, he’s able to be a loner more than I am. As a woman, I’m not free to do all that. Even when I was his age, I couldn’t just get off anywhere I wanted. When we were on the road, Christine and I didn’t have a clue in the world what the boys did. We went to our rooms with security guys standing outside. It’s not like we ever escaped to go club-hopping in downtown Manhattan. We never got to live that life, so freedom as Harry knows it is very different than it’s been for me.

Did you ever have any figure in your life who provided some sense of mentorship the way you have to artists like Harry?

I didn’t really have anyone. If I had any guiding force at all, it probably would’ve been Christine McVie because she was five years older than me. And five years is five years, you know? Chris was friends with Eric Clapton and knew all the famous musicians in London. She’d married John [McVie] and done a bunch of records with Fleetwood Mac before I came along, so she’d been in the music business for a long time. I was breaking up with Lindsey when she was breaking up with John. She was my therapist and my go-to person for just about everything. We had each other to get through that really difficult situation where no one was gonna quit the band. Christine and I kept the whole thing together by telling the three men, “You quit because we’re not stopping” Thank God I had her, but on the other side of that, thank God she had me. We really were a force of nature.

** I’m curious to what extent fashion plays a role in your and Harry’s relationship. Have you** gifted him any accessories that were significant to you?

I actually gave him a ring at the Forum thing. It’s very masculine and has a pink stone in it. I told him it was a pink diamond, but it really isn’t. It would’ve cost $5 million. It was mine, and I really loved it, but I thought, This should be for Harry. You can see it on his hands in the “Falling” video where he’s playing the piano. If Harry and I were in a band together, we’d be trading all kinds of crazy stuff.

What are your thoughts on him being the first solo male cover in Vogue’s history?

It makes me feel so inspired. I’m extremely jealous he’s on the cover of Vogue because I’m 72 years old and have wanted to be on the cover my whole life. I’m such a magazine hag, so I’m incredibly jealous of Harry, but I’ll get over it. As far as all the crazy things he’s wearing, you do whatever you have to do to be on the cover of Vogue. I’m very proud of him, and I think it’s great that there’s a man on the cover…but I should’ve been in the corner off in the distance [laughs]. Did you know I’ve never been to the Met Gala?

We would be honored to have you at the next gala and every one after that. I’m putting this in the article to make sure it’s in the public record.

As Mick Jagger says, “We still have our freedom, but we don’t have much time.” I would like to be not much older than I am now so I can wear a fantastic outfit and entertain everybody. It’s a dream of mine, and most of my dreams have come true, but I need to not be 90 when it happens.

Harry and you could perform together.

We wouldn’t even have to rehearse. We’ve got a couple of duets that are really great. We do “Landslide” and “Two Ghosts” together really well. We actually have five or six terrific acoustic numbers that we could do at the drop of a hat.

You hinted earlier this year that there might be a role for Harry in the miniseries based on the stories of Rhiannon. Is there any update there?

This is probably the third-biggest thing I’ve ever done in my life after Fleetwood Mac and my solo career. There’s a lot to be done in the movie business before I can start riding my horses across the mountains of Wales. I’ve signed with a movie company—I’m not gonna tell you who—and we just signed a writer. I’m not gonna tell you who that is either, but there’s an amazing part for Harry. My favorite character in the series is the only man who goes through all four books. He’s a magician who doesn’t wanna be king, and I think Harry would just be so perfect.

Have you and Harry discussed collaborating on any future music together?

We’re open to making music together because we’ve been very successful when we go onstage just to do one song. I would love to be in a band with Harry, but even if I never saw him in person again, he’s made a record that breaks my heart in a million places like Fine Line. As far as music goes, there’s plenty of fun things that he and I could do. We can just reach out to each other and do it. I’m always ready to slip back into those high-heel black suede boots and become my alter ego.

via Vogue.com

[hlupdate]

Of all the disciples to worship at the altar of Stevie Nicks, none have managed to capture the attention of rock's reigning priestess quite like Harry Styles.

The 26-year old rocker (who this week received three Grammy nominations) is the Gucci-clad poster-boy carrying the torch for a bygone era of music history that the Fleetwood Mac front-woman helped crystallize. Styles recently cited the group's 1977 (and still charting) classic “Dreams” as one of the first songs he learned the words to growing up. Their friendship began in 2015 after the former One Direction member presented his idol with a hand-piped birthday cake after a Fleetwood Mac gig in London. (“Glad she liked carrot cake,” he later said.) The years since have seen the duo's mutual affection blossom into one of pop culture‘s most cherished bondings.

Last year, when Styles inducted Nicks into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, he proclaimed the 72-year old “everything you’ve ever wanted in a lady, a lover, in a friend.” Nicks has gushed about him in interviews as everything from “the son she never had” to the “love child” of her and bandmate Mick Fleetwood. Styles earned her official seal of approval after covering “The Chain” every night of his first solo tour in support of a record that sounds closer to Crosby, Stills & Nash than anything he released under his prior band.

“Harry could've lost a lot of fans but he didn't. I’m so proud of him because he took a risk and didn’t go the One Direction route," Nicks recently told Vogue over the phone. "He loves One Direction, I love One Direction, and a gazillion other people do too, but Harry didn't wanna go the pop route. He wanted straight-up rock-and-roll circa 1975.”

Nicks has been embracing some of the busiest years of her dual careers as both Fleetwood Mac front-woman and solo sorceress—and doing so in the midst of a global pandemic. Since she last performed with Styles at the Forum for his Fine Line release show in December, she’s released a 24 Karat Gold concert film and “Show Them the Way,” her politically-minded single and first piece of original music in six years. After Miley Cyrus asked for Nicks's blessing before releasing her “Edge of Seventeen”-tinged “Midnight Sky,” the two joined forces for an exhilarating new mash-up titled “Edge of Midnight."

In honor of Styles making history as the magazine’s first solo cover-boy, Nicks caught up with Vogue to answer all our questions about their cosmic connection. Currently beachside with her quarantine bubble in Hawaii, she’s been doing what one would expect Stevie Nicks to be up to during a pandemic: writing new music, dancing around her house to “Watermelon Sugar“ and “casting little spells.” As befitting rock’s foremost storyteller, our intended 30-minute chat turned into a two-hour confessional about her love of Styles, working with Cyrus for the first time, joining Fleetwood Mac, the president-elect Joe Biden, the Met Gala, betta fish funerals, and much more.

Did you get a chance to look through Harry's cover story yet?  

Right before I called you I sat here and looked at all the pictures on my new iPad. What can I say? That's my Harry. I think the thing that’s most wonderful about him—and I've told him this and sometimes I think he takes it the wrong way—is that he’s such a kooky guy. He’s the type of person you'd wanna live next door to. He’d look out the window, see you having a hard time planting flowers and rush out asking "Can I help you with those roses?" "Sure but you are Harry Styles, right?" That's who he is.

I really only know him to a certain extent but I have gotten to experience some big moments in his life like when he released his first solo record at the Troubadour. I always think of Tom Petty saying "So you wanna be a rock star or you wanna be a pop star?" It's two completely different things and he really could have gone pop like his friend Zayn [Malik]. I was sorry that Zayn didn't keep going more because I thought he was really good. But he took the pop route, which I think was right for him. Harry could've lost a lot of fans doing rock-and-roll but he didn't. Harry did a long tour with that first record and said “I'm a different person now. I have a full-on rock band and this is what I'm gonna do.” With many of my records I’ll stuff down peoples' throats until they like it and that's exactly what he did. Then he went away and wrote Fine Line, one of my favorite records.

What were your immediate thoughts listening to Fine Line for the first time?

Me and four of my friends sat with Harry in his living room  in London and listened to it a few times before it came out. But it wasn't really Fine Line yet. The first time we listened to it nobody really said anything. The second time everyone started to go "I think this song is great but it should be second in the sequence." By the third listen it was five girls screaming "Well Harry really now, I think you need to take these four that are called "Harry Songs" and do this and that—” while he’s sinking in his reclining chair thinking "Are these women ever gonna leave? Thanks for your opinions but oh my god stop already."

What changed when you heard the record in it’s finished form?

This record means a lot to me. When it was all put together I listened and said "Oh my god, The Beatles live." A whole lot of people live in these songs. Fleetwood Mac lives there. I live there. When I listen to "Fine Line” I hear melodies that would've worked on “A Day in the Life.“ It has that same kind of complexity. I think the Beatles would've thought “Here we’ve influenced a young man who took some incredible things from us and made them his own years and years later.”

Earlier this year you posted a message saying that Fine Line is Harry’s Rumours. Can you elaborate on what you meant by that?

When Harry asked me to do "Landslide" with him at the Forum I asked why and he said "Because I want you to be there. You were there for my first night at the Troubadour for the first record.” That night I wrote him a letter that said “This is your Rumours so you have to really respect it and adore it because these kinds of records sometimes don't ever come again.” Fleetwood Mac went on to make many great records but people would bet their life on the fact that Rumours was the one. And this might just be the one for Harry. We were all kind of the same age when we made Rumours. I was 28 and Lindsey was 27. I actually don't even know how old Harry is—he's that timeless to me.

Do you have a personal favorite of his songs?

Every one represents a different thing to me. “Sunflower” is such a great little song. He loves to do crazy videos and one time I called him and said “I have an idea. You're gonna be a bee and the sunflower would be your girlfriend, and you guys would get married and live in a beehive with your little bee children. You’d sing the lyrics “kiss in the kitchen like it's a dance floor duh duh duh” and show this entire bee relationship.”

What did he think of that pitch?

When I finished the other end of the phone was silent. I said "No really, think about it. It’ll be fantastical like a Francis Ford Coppola movie.” He’s like “Yeah, okay...” (laughs). I also love the "Adore You” video with the little fish because I have my own special relationships with fish.

In what sense?

I always have two betta fish but they have to be separated otherwise they'll kill each other. I stick my finger into their aquarium and the blue one will swim around my hand like a little dolphin. When my fish get old and suddenly die I have funerals for them in my backyard where I play Celine Dion. I have them filmed and everything (laughs). It’s too much but I thankfully haven’t had any recent fish deaths. I haven't even been able to sit down and show Harry the videos of my little fish so when I saw the “Adore You” video I couldn’t believe it.

Why is it important for you to foster these relationships with younger artists like Harry who’ve been so openly influenced by you?

I'm inspired by them. I'm inspired that Miley wants to make music with me. I’m inspired that the Haim girls are my biggest fans—and I theirs. A lot of these kids are making the amazing records I’ve been waiting for them to make. I’m not like other 72-year olds. I listen to current music because I want to be current. When people find out how old I am versus the music I'm listening to they think it doesn't gel at all. I’ve been collecting musical knowledge since I was in the fourth grade listening to the singles my grandfather used to bring home. I listened to Buddy Holly and the Everly Brothers until the sixth grade when R&B radio became Top 40. I said goodbye country and hello R&B, so it’s not like I'm ever stuck on one thing. What I love about Harry is that he's very old-school but still modern. And that's kinda like me.

You both also transitioned from massive groups to equally massive solo careers rather seamlessly.

When I decided I wanted to be a solo artist I'd only been in Fleetwood Mac for a few years. I tried to figure out a way to do it gracefully because I didn’t wanna break up the band. I just wanted to sit at my piano and write poetry. After we did a record and a really long tour the band scurried off to different parts of the world while I’d just be home writing songs for a year and a half. What did they care what I did while they were all on vacation? I’ve always said all the way through these two careers I've had: if you're in a band first, never break it up.

I know Beyoncé because I spent a day with Destiny’s Child making the “Bootylicious” video. I owe them a debt of gratitude because that’s the one time I ever got to pretend I played rock-and-roll guitar! But when Beyoncé made the decision to be a solo artist she did not see herself going back to Destiny's Child every couple of years. And that's a perfectly acceptable decision because sometimes that's what people wanna do. I, on the other hand, said why not have the ability to go back to Fleetwood Mac whenever I want? Being a Gemini I get bored really easily, so being able to have those two careers was great.

Do you think One Direction would ever reunite?

I think it's a good idea. For all we know, One Direction is completely broken up forever. But I think those guys are friends and five or ten years down the road they could all go "You know what, wouldn't it be really fun to do a One Direction tour?" Because that's what people do. I wouldn't be surprised if they did reunite at some point just because they can. And because it would just be fun. Harry is the kind of person who would never stomp on that idea. He would never say (imitates posh English accent) "Never! I would never do that again!" Because why not just keep the door open?

Was there any particular detail or passage in Harry’s cover story that stuck out to you?

According to this article he can get in a car with his friend to drive all over Europe then drive back by himself. I stopped driving in 1978 because my driver's license expired and I'd already made a lot of money. I very smartly thought "You know what, if someone even hits you and it's not even your fault but you're a little drunk, you are done. You're finished and the fortune that you've made is gone, so why should you drive anyway?” By then me and Christine were very cloistered, but Harry's able to live a freer life because he's a guy. He's like Mick. He has a free life.

Would you say that you don’t?

I'm only comparing us in the way that Harry goes off to the Bahamas to work on songs then flies back to LA then London then Italy—I can't do that. I can't do that by myself. He's able to do whatever he wants by himself and it's a whole different way of life. Being that Harry is a guy, he's able to be a loner more than I am. As a woman I'm not free to do all that. Even when I was his age I couldn't just get off anywhere I wanted. When we were on the road Christine and I didn't have a clue in the world what the boys did. We went to our rooms with security guys standing outside. It's not like we ever escaped to go club-hopping in downtown Manhattan. We never got to live that life so freedom as Harry knows it is very different than it’s been for me.

Did you ever have any figure in your life who provided some sense of mentorship the way you have to artists like Harry?

I didn't really have anyone. If I had any guiding force at all it probably would've been Christine McVie because she was five years older than me. And five years is five years, you know? Chris was friends with Eric Clapton and knew all the famous musicians in London. She’d married John [McVie] and done a bunch of records with Fleetwood Mac before I came along so she'd been in the music business for a long time. I was breaking up with Lindsey when she was breaking up with John. She was my therapist and my go-to person for just about everything. We had each other to get through that really difficult situation where no one was gonna quit the band. Christine and I kept the whole thing together by telling the three men "You quit because we're not stopping” Thank god I had her, but I think on the other side of that thank god she had me. We really were a force of nature.

I’m curious to what extent fashion plays a role in your and Harry’s relationship. Have you gifted him any accessories that were significant to you?

I actually gave him a ring at the Forum thing. It’s very masculine and has a pink stone in it. I told him it was a pink diamond but it really isn't, it would've cost $5 million. It was mine and I really loved it but I thought "This should be for Harry.” You can see it on his hands in the "Falling" video where he’s playing the piano. If Harry and I were in a band together we’d be trading all kinds of crazy stuff.

How did you come to decide on your all-black stage uniform?

I started getting paid when I joined Fleetwood Mac but up until then I didn't have any money to buy food. All of a sudden we were going on tour so I just packed up my normal clothes. We started eating because there was room service and there I was gaining ten pounds in the middle of the tour. I didn't fit in any of the clothes and I didn't have time to shop so when I got home I said “I can never do this again.” I knew a friend who knew a designer and I told her I needed a uniform because I can't be thinking about what I wanna wear every night. It makes it so much easier since everybody that's in Pittsburgh isn't necessarily gonna be in Philadelphia. Harry's done the same thing with his white pants and pink shirt.

What are your thoughts on him being the first solo male cover in Vogue’s history?

It makes me feel so inspired. I'm extremely jealous he's on the cover of Vogue because I'm seventy-two years old and have wanted to be on the cover my whole life. I’m such a magazine hag, so I’m incredibly jealous of Harry but I'll get over it. As far as all the crazy things he's wearing, you do whatever you have to do to be on the cover of Vogue. I'm very proud of him and I think it's great that there's a man on the cover… but I should've been in the corner off in the distance (laughs). Did you know I've never been to the Met Gala?

We would be honored to have you at the next gala and every one after that. I’m putting this in the article to make sure it’s in the public record.

As Mick Jagger says, "We still have our freedom, but we don't have much time." I would like to be not much older than I am now so I can wear a fantastic outfit and entertain everybody. It's a dream of mine and most of my dreams have come true, but I need to not be ninety when it happens.

Harry and you could perform together.

We wouldn't even have to rehearse. We've got a couple of duets that are really great. We do "Landslide" and “Two Ghosts” together really well. We actually have five or six terrific acoustic numbers that we could do at the drop of a hat.

You hinted earlier this year that there might be a role for Harry in the miniseries based on the stories of Rhiannon. Is there any update there?

This is probably the third-biggest thing I've ever done in my life after Fleetwood Mac and my solo career. There’s a lot to be done in the movie business before I can start riding my horses across the mountains of Wales. I've signed with a movie company—I'm not gonna tell you who—and we just signed a writer. I'm not gonna tell you who that is either but there’s an amazing part for Harry. My favorite character in the series is the only man who goes through all four books. He's a magician who doesn't wanna be king and I think Harry would just be so perfect.

Have you and Harry discussed collaborating on any future music together?

We're open to making music together because we've been very successful when we go onstage just to do one song. I would love to be in a band with Harry but even if I never saw him in person again he’s made a record that breaks my heart in a million places like Fine Line. As far as music goes there's plenty of fun things that he and I could do. We can just reach out to each other and do it. I’m always ready to slip back into those high-heel black suede boots and become my alter ego.

This interview has been edited for clarity and space.

[patriciasage]

promises, promises

Author: Patricia_Sage

Fandom: The Adventure Zone - Balance

Summary: 

Taako made two promises to his sister early on in this seemingly endless mission. Firstly, he isn’t allowed to intentionally cut a cycle short, no matter how much time is left, no matter how much he misses her. Secondly, if she’s gone, he has to take care of Barry.

He isn’t sure what his sister was thinking with the second one. ‘Taako’ and ‘take care of’ are not words that naturally go together for anyone other than Lup. He loves the entire crew, of course he does, but he would rather kill for them than comfort them.

This is the first cycle where Lup is dead and neither Taako nor Barry had gone with her.

posted in full under the break but you can find me on AO3!!

There are two months left in the cycle and Lup is gone. She, Merle, and Davenport were poisoned during a political meeting.

Taako hadn’t been hungry that day. He wishes he would have taken a drink. Magnus hates when he says it, but he prefers to die by her side than live without her. And death would have been much more preferable to watching her choke and spasm in front of him. Helpless.

Lucretia has a lot on her plate now, attempting to negotiate with the bastards who killed them. There was death on both sides, since Taako literally burned the place to the ground. It seems as though they’re on the verge of war – the four remaining crewmembers versus this country’s royal armies.

Taako doesn’t give a shit.

“What’s the fucking point?” he asks Lucretia when she made plans to meet with the royal representative. “This cycle’s gone to Hell; let’s just go.”

“We have two months left,” Lucretia says. “We have a chance to work through this and get the Light. Then they didn’t die in vain.” Her voice cracks. Taako attempts to be gentle with his friend, even though rage flows through him like a roaring stream.

But quiet vitriol escapes his mouth. “Are they even worth saving?”

Lucretia looks at him with bright, brown eyes. “Taako.”

“They killed Merle and Davenport and Lup! And they should have killed me too. And we’re still going to bend over backwards in order to save them? They obviously wouldn’t do the same for us.”

“That’s not how this works,” Lucretia says, quiet and stern. “We don’t decide who is worth saving or not.” She places her dark hand on Taako’s shoulder. “I know you’re hurting, T. And I won’t make you be a part of this. But I’m going to try and get the Light of Creation. And you’re going to make it through these next few months to see her again.”

Taako could see her again right now if he wanted to. But he doesn’t say that. And he doesn’t let himself truly entertain the thought. He promised.

Everyone on the ship is grieving in their own way. Barry becomes entirely reclusive, locking himself in his lab. Magnus cries a lot over the first few days and blames himself for not being at the meeting to protect them, but then he focuses his energy into learning to pilot the Starblaster. Taako attempts to distract his mind from the grief that sits deep in his bones.

Knowing their deaths are temporary doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Magnus makes it his personal mission to take care of Taako, which is very annoying but also helps with his plan for distraction. He sits next to the Magnus as the fighter test-drives the ship. It’s hard to think about your dead sister when your friend is crashing a spaceship into a lake.

But Magnus isn’t only recklessness and aggressive enthusiasm. He’s also soft and sensitive – and fucking manipulative. He tells Taako he needs a hug or someone to keep him company when he sleeps. Taako knows these are partial lies. He knows that Magnus just wants to hold his pieces together, to shield Taako from the nightmares that tear him apart.

Taako travels through the days like molasses. He wants to exist in the bare minimum, avoid the smouldering flame threatening to burn him up. But it’s hard to exist, unfeeling, in a world where he’s always had her at his side. He can’t do anything without thinking of her.

He drinks too much.

It helps a little, but it causes Magnus to make that sad, helpless expression, so Taako hides it as best he can.

He made two promises to his sister early on in this seemingly endless mission. Firstly, he isn’t allowed to intentionally cut a cycle short, no matter how much time is left, no matter how much he misses her. Secondly, if she’s gone, he has to take care of Barry.

Taako isn’t sure what his sister was thinking with the second one. ‘Taako’ and ‘take care of’ are not words that naturally go together for anyone other than Lup. He loves the entire crew, of course he does, but he would rather kill for them than comfort them.

This is the first cycle where Lup is dead and neither Taako nor Barry had gone with her.

Food is always an effective way to build a bridge between two stubborn souls. Taako steps foot into the Starblaster’s kitchen for the first time since the disaster a few weeks ago. Lucretia is a passable cook, so the remaining crew haven’t been suffering too much, but her meals are nothing compared to the twins’ concoctions.

Absolutely everything on this ship reminds Taako of his sister (pretty much every aspect of existence reminds him of his sister), but the kitchen is particularly salient. He stands in the doorway and breathes through it, thankful that no one is around. Lup is the only one who knows him at his core, the only one who’s ever seen his soft, fragile centre. Magnus has been digging closer and closer every cycle with his big hands and even bigger smile. But there’s no one Taako trusts like he trusts Lup.

And she’s gone.

And he made her a promise.

There are so many lakes on this world. Taako had spent most of springtime fishing and filleting, so the freezer is full. He takes out a few cuts of cod, expertly deboned, as well as some salt, pepper, lemon, chili powder, and dill. He starts the rice boiling and thaws the fish with a flick of his wand. The meat hasn’t been frying for too long before Magnus and Lucretia appear at the kitchen table, summoned by the smell. They’re looking at him with an irritating mixture of encouragement and wariness. He ignores them and focuses on cooking. He’s mentally batting away memories and feelings constantly and it’s starting to take a toll.

The kitchen is silent except for the sizzle of fish in the pan and the soft murmur of boiling rice. Taako transmutes some beans into asparagus and tosses that in the pan as well.

“Fucking talk,” he says to the stove.

Magnus startles into conversation. Taako feels his friends’ gazes move away from his back and toward each other. He focuses on their chat even though it’s boring. It’s easier than fighting his heart’s insistent ache.

He avoids looking at their faces while he places their meals in front of them. “Thank you,” Lucretia says softly. Magnus places a big, warm hand on the wizard’s shoulder.

Taako feels his mouth press into a shadow of a smile. He squeezes Magnus’s hand and steps away. “Dig in. I’m gonna bring some to the lab rat.”

Barry is asleep at his desk, drooling on a sketch of one of his prototypes. Taako sets the plate down next to him and watches the smell wake him up. His glasses are askew even when he lifts his head.

There’s an awful moment when he looks at Taako and his face softly lights up. Taako’s stomach sinks, and then Barry comes fully into awareness and looks away. Taako regrets shaving his face his morning and he regrets wearing his hair up the way Lup usually does before bed. He doesn’t blame Barry for the disappointment.

“This is good shit, so you’d better not let it get cold,” Taako says. He leans against the workbench with his arms crossed.

“Smells good,” Barry replies with his characteristic, gruff awkwardness. Taako tries not to fidget. The chill of Lup’s absence is strongest in the kitchen, but it’s swirling around the lab, too. It’s typical to see Lup sprawled on the couch pretty much every evening, chattering while Barry tries and fails to focus on his work.

Barry puts a forkful of rice in his mouth and speaks around it. Gross. “Did you eat already?”

Taako is absentmindedly surprised when he realizes he hasn’t eaten anything except a bite of toast that Magnus practically shoved in his mouth this morning. He curses himself for thinking about it too long and ruining what could have been a perfectly good lie. “Yep, sure did.”

“Taako…” Barry says disapprovingly, lowering his fork.

“Get outta my ass, Barry. I’m, like, a hundred years old, or something.” Age doesn’t mean much to them, anymore. “Don’t treat me like a child.”

“I’m not treating you like a child. I’m treating you like – ” He sighs. “Do you have some left over upstairs?”

“Yeah,” Taako lies. He walks toward the door. “Gonna go eat now, so…enjoy, or whatever.”

Barry rubs his eyes under his glasses. “Thanks, Taako.”

“Shit,” Taako mutters as he climbs the stairs. Why didn’t Lup tell Magnus or Lucretia to take care of Barry? Hell, anyone would do a better job than him.

Taako enters the now empty kitchen and casts Prestidigitation to clean the dishes, but he stops before he can leave for the upper deck. There’s a full plate of food on the table. It’s obvious that Magnus and Lucretia had each put half of their meal onto a clean plate. They’re taking advantage of his inability to throw away food, engrained from his childhood. Taako sighs but sits at the table to eat. He feels more solid when he’s done, but just as empty.

The next day is better.

“Come for a walk,” Taako demands from Barry’s bedroom doorway. Barry yelps and covers his chest with a blanket.

“Taako!”

“Come for a walk!” the elf repeats, leaving the door ajar as he leaves.

Barry joins him on the Starblaster’s lower deck in a few minutes, hair messy but fully clothed. “Where are we going?”

Before Taako has a chance to respond, Magnus rushes in. “Don’t forget your cloak – it’s kinda cold. Oh, hey, Barry. You coming with us?”

“I guess I am.”

“Great!”

Magnus hands Barry his denim jacket and throws Taako’s thicker cloak in his direction. The security officer himself is wearing a wool-lined vest with no sleeves. Taako resists the urge to roll his eyes when he notices.

The men don’t talk a lot as they traverse the path that Magnus and Taako have worn down over the last few weeks. They skip rocks on the surface of the still water. Barry stays far away from the water’s edge. Magnus picks Taako up and pretends he’s about to throw him in. Instead of protesting, Taako looks the man in the eyes with a challenge. “Do it. I fucking dare you, Burnsides.” Magnus freezes and just stands there holding the elf in his arms for a moment. Taako smirks. “That’s what I thought.”

Barry disappears into his lab when they return to the ship, but Taako still considers it a success. After a few days, Barry no longer needs to be woken up; he joins them in the foyer, sleepy but ready, every morning. Lucretia comes, too, when she’s not out negotiating.

Taako cooks when he can.

Sometimes he’s good. Sometimes the air of the kitchen suffocates him. Barry sees him once, standing in the pantry, frozen and overwhelmed. “Hey,” he says. There’s something soft and complex in his expression when Taako whirls around.

“What’s up, my man?” Taako’s voice breaks more than usual. The stiffness of his hands betrays him, too. Barry beckons him out of the pantry. Taako follows quietly as the scientist travels to the Starblaster’s upper deck.

The endless night sky is strangely comforting. There aren’t many constants in their life besides each other, their target, and their enemy. But the sky is always there and ready to take them away.

Barry opens a hatch near the centre of the deck and brings out what looks like a piece from a broken chair. “Ready?” he asks.

“What?”

Barry just nods and then throws the item high into the air. Taako understands when it reaches his highest peak, but he can’t bring himself to take out his wand. The piece of wood falls into a nearby like with a soft splash.

“Oh, sorry,” Barry says awkwardly. “You’re supposed to hit it with a spell –”

“I know what I’m supposed to do, Barry. I’ve lived with her my whole life,” Taako snaps. He takes a breath and tries again. “Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do here, man. But that’s her. She feels things build up inside and needs to let ‘em out in a way she can control. But I- …I’m not full of anything.” He turns to leave. “So, thanks, dude, but this isn’t gonna work for me.”

Barry grabs his wrist. “Taako, wait!” He looks a little helpless. “Then what does work for you? Tell me.”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on.” Barry attempts a smile but he’s shivering a little in the night air. “Like you said to me the other day – you’re over a hundred years old. You know. So, tell me what makes you feel better when you feel like shit so I can help you out.”

“I don’t want your fucking help, Barry.”

“Well, that’s too damn bad!” Barry rarely raises his voice. It echoes across the empty deck and is swallowed by the night sky. “Tell me, Taako.”

He knows the answer will hurt both of them when it leaves his mouth, but he says it anyway. “Being with her.” Barry averts his gaze and Taako feels both sick and triumphant. “Just…being in her company makes me feel like a person again. So. Unless you can do that for me, I think we’re done here.”

Taako stands outside Magnus’s bedroom door for a few minutes. He raises his hand to knock then lowers it again. He spends the night on a nearby dock, listening to the waves lap against the shore and slowly emptying a bottle of rum.

The next morning, they pretend it didn’t happen. They go for their morning walk and let Magnus carry the conversation.

Lucretia gets the Light of Creation against all odds – and just in time. There’s only about two days left in this Cycle. Taako makes her favourite dish, piri piri chicken, and they allow themselves to celebrate with wine and music. It never feels completely right to celebrate, knowing the Hunger is still going to cause a lot of damage, but they need to allow themselves these small successes. The men also feel the need to show appreciation to Lucretia, since she worked tirelessly to save this world while they went for walks and crashed the ship into lakes.

Magnus is dancing with Lucretia in the kitchen and Taako makes a quick exit before the big man can trap him in another embrace. He finds Barry on the couch, lost in thought. He sits down beside him, touching their wine glasses together in a small toast. “We made it,” the wizard says before taking another drink.

“Yeah,” Barry says. They’re both thinking the same thing. They’ll see her again soon.

Barry turns to face him. “Listen, Taako, I’m sorry I was so pushy the other night.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s just…” Barry sighs. “I promised her I’d take care of you and I –”

“What?” Taako interrupts. They look at each other, incredulous and inquiring. “She made me promise to take care of you, dude.”

Barry smiles and laughs. Taako fumes. As if Barry Bluejeans could take care of him – what was she thinking? “We both did kind of a shit job, didn’t we?” Barry says.

“Hey, without me you would’ve starved to death.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.”

A few days later, Magnus flies the Starblaster through the Hunger’s advancing tendrils, their bodies fragment, and the entire crew materializes in their set places. Before Lup can even take a breath, Taako shoves her hard. “What the fuck?” she sputters. He silences her with a hug.

The IPRE crew puts the past behind them and they settle into a new life on a new world. Barry and Lup go back to their routine of being attached at the hip and stubbornly not talking about their feelings. Lup and Taako cook and practice magic together. Barry and Taako aren’t close, per se, but they tolerate each other in a new, honest and kind way.

It’s worth it to see the smile on Lup’s face.

[heartsywritesthethings]

Karasuno Secret Santa 3

Part 1 Part 2

TW: This chapter has mentions of domestic abuse.

“Hey, Asahi, have you seen Nishinoya around?” Ennoshita asked his upperclassman. It was strange, he hadn’t even heard from Noya all day and typically he could at least hear that kid from a few doors down.

“I haven’t. Why?” Asahi asked, frowning in concern. Noya had left his place last night to stay at his own home, but that shouldn’t be a reason to completely skip out on class, right? Maybe that idiot overslept again. Asahi did remember having to basically drag him out of the extra bed and get his butt to class.

“I dunno, I just got a weird feeling. And none of his classmates have seen him. Could you give him the homework before the practice game today?” Ennoshita said, handing over a small pile of papers for Noya to finish. While it was true that most of the players knew where each other lived, it just felt weird for him to just go drop by his house. He figured since Asahi and him were so close that it would be better to hear from him instead. 

“Sure, no problem.” Asahi responded. With a small nod, Ennoshita turned and went back down the hall. Asahi looked at the paperwork for a moment before putting it all in his bag to take to Nishinoya later. While it wasn’t unusual for Noya to be late to school, today did feel a little different. It was obvious that Ennoshita felt it too

Asahi knew that Noya hated staying at his own home, so he was allowed to basically live at Asahi’s for the last year or so. One day he had just…shown up at his front door with a pillow and a bag of clothes, announcing that they were going to have the best sleepover ever. Then he just…rarely left. Asahi never really questioned him about it though. He understood that sometimes home life can be rough, even though he had never quite experienced it himself. His parents were kind and understanding, also never really questioning why Noya was suddenly staying at the house. While at times it felt like he had just gained a little brother, it felt more like he had gained a pet. Something that he had to constantly remind to eat, sleep, and walk. Nishinoya at home was a completely different person than the Nishinoya everyone knew on the volleyball court. 

Asahi mulled this thought over in his head as he walked towards Noya’s house. He wondered what Noya’s home life could possibly be if he was that desperate to live anywhere else. Maybe he had parents who argued all the time? Mean siblings? Or maybe he had just needed an excuse to get closer with Asahi. Not that the tall third year really minded the attention, but the thought did nag him from time to time.

Finally, Asahi reached Noya’s doorstep. He took out the paperwork from his bag and knocked politely at the door. Despite his best efforts, sometimes people would call the police on him solely based on his appearance. Asahi never really got into any trouble though, it was more annoying than anything.

The man who opened the door wasn’t Noya, but a man who bore a striking resemblance. He was much taller than Asuhi was (surprising, considering how short Noya was), same facial structure, and the same crazy dark hair. This must be his father.

“H-hello, sir,” Asahi said, bowing in respect to his elder. “I came to pick up my friend for volleyball practice and also to bring him his work for the day,”

The man looked down on Asahi, scowling as if Asahi had just said that a dog had just pooped in his lawn. They stared at each other for a moment longer before the door closed in Asahi’s face. Asahi straightened up and stared at the door in utter confusion. What…exactly was he supposed to do now? He could just leave the paperwork here and hope that Noya would find it in the bushes. That would never work. Noya would probably see the work, yeah, but he would never put forth the effort to fish it out of the bushes. 

“Asahi!” Noya’s voice chirped up from above. For just a moment, Asahi thought that maybe Noya hit him on the head too hard the other day at practice. He looked up and saw his friend crouching on top of the roof. Noya was crouched like a bird with two bags of clothes right next to him. Although the guy was smiling, the dark circles under his eyes and the bruising around his cheeks told another story. 

“Catch!” Noya said, tossing down the two bags he had. Asahi didn’t really think, just moved in the way of both bags. He caught one just fine, but the other smacked him square in the shoulder and practically knocked him over. Noya laughed as the papers fluttered in the wind. 

“Nice catch, Asahi! You should be the next libero.” Noya teased. Asahi couldn’t help but to smile even though his shoulder was throbbing and his brain was screaming that something was wrong. 

“You dumbass, now I have to find all of your homework,” Asuhi said, immediately moving to gather up all of the papers that were fluttering away slowly from him. As he picked up a couple of papers, he noticed that his friend wasn’t moving away from the ledge of the roof. 

“What’s taking you so long? Get down from there and let’s go.” Asahi told him, waving for him to come down. Noya’s smile slipped a little, looking back at his open bedroom window.

“Yu Nishinoya!” Noya’s father yelled, so loud that even Asuhi could hear it from where he was standing on the lawn. 

“Think fast!,” Noya said and then he did the unthinkable. 

He jumped. 

Asahi dropped everything and rushed over to the area where Noya would be falling. Thankfully, he slowed down the little libero’s fall with his own body. Asahi had managed to get his arms around Noya before they both tumbled to the ground. 

“Noya, you okay?” Asahi asked, looking up at his friend. Noya was quick on his feet, scrambling to grab both bags of clothes and then ran back to Asahi.

“Come on, let’s go!” Noya said, still smiling, but it was definitely strained. He was sweating…nervous. Though, this was different from his nerves from volleyball games. Asahi didn’t question this though, just getting up to his feet and following his friend.

After they had gotten far enough, they both stopped running, stopping on at a street corner to catch their breaths.

“Well, at least all my homework is gone. Great job on that, Asahi. Now I can go to sleep at a normal time!” Noya said, giving the third year a thumbs up. As he did so, his sleeve rode up, displaying more bruising. Asuhi remembered a few weeks ago when Noya had also shown up at practices with bruising up and down his arms. His only excuse was–

“I accidentally slammed my face on the floor practicing my receives. So stupid, right? I spent all night working on it, so I overslept. Didn’t miss me too much at school, did ya?” Noya said, smiling just as widely as ever. It was as if nothing weird was happening. As if they hadn’t just run from his own father.

“Noya, stop,” Asahi said, stepping closer to him. Noya’s mouth shut tight. Asahi sighed, running his hand through his own hair as he thought about what to say next. “Look, you don’t have to tell he is going on with you and your…dad.”

Noya didn’t respond, just looking away from his friend.

“But, please don’t lie about stuff like this. Not to me. Not to the team.” Asahi told him, patting his head on top of Noya’s spiky hair. Noya looked up, his smile gone and tears sparkling the edges of his eyes. Asahi pulled Noya close, resting his chin on the top of Noya’s head. They stood like this for a moment. However long Noya needed. Finally, Noya pulled away, quickly wiping away any tears that may have fallen down his cheeks. 

“Come on, Karasuno needs their court guardian for this practice game,” Asahi said, turning around and crouching slightly. Eventually, Noya got the message, climbing onto Asahi’s back. 

Asahi carried Nishinoya back to the gym, holding onto both of the bags of clothes as well. It was a little heavy, but he felt like he needed Noya to know that Asahi would never leave his side. Would never just leave him alone during his struggle, whether it was on the court or not. Noya was the one who convinced him to get back into the volleyball club. He had never given up on him, even when Asahi had given up on himself. 

When they finally got to the gym, Noya jumped off of Asahi’s back and ran to the gym’s entrance excitedly.

“Who are we playing?” Asahi asked, figuring that if Noya wanted them both to move on from today’s events, then Asuhi would let him.

“Nekoma! Looks like another cats versus crows!” Noya said excitedly, tossing off his shoes and scrambling to quickly put his gym shoes on. Asahi smiled and set down the bags of clothes by his shoes, peeking in to see how the game was going. It was close, with Karasuno behind 14-15. Noya rushed over to the locker room, yelling to the others that the best libero in the world was soon to save this game in the honor of the crows. Asahi changed his shoes and stepped in the gym, waiting for Noya to be out of sight before he made his way over to Coach Ukai.

“Coach, I just need a minute,” Asahi said. He felt so awkward, as if he were letting the coach in on a secret he shouldn’t tell. Maybe he should just keep these things to himself…Noya would probably be embarrassed if anyone knew. 

No.

He had to tell someone. 

“Ah, are you here to explain why our best libero and the ace of Karasuno are late?” Coach Ukai said, his eyebrow twitching with the effort to remain calm. Sudden outbursts may distract his players on the court.

“Uh…yeah! Sorry about that, coach. It was for a good reason, I swear!” Asahi said hurriedly, raising his hands defensively. 

“Oh, yeah? I’d like to hear it.” Coach responded, crossing his arms over his chest, still keeping his eyes on the game as the ball bounced and rallied from one side to the other. 

“Uh, it’s about Noya’s bruises…” Asahi mumbled, crouching down so as to not be heard by any of the benched players. 

Coach Ukai took Asahi by surprise, standing up immediately and taking Asahi by the man-bun, and dragging him out of the gym.

“Takeda, you’re in charge until I get back!” Ukai yelled over his shoulder. 

“Uh, yes Coach!” Takeda said nervously, looking between the disappearing coach and the unfolding game. It must be important as Ukai didn’t even bat an eye when Karasuno earned another point, tying the game.

“So, Noya’s bruising. It’s not because of his rough practicing at home, is it?” Coach Ukai asked, looking over at Karasuno’s ace with skeptical eyes. 

“Uh…no.” Asahi grumbled, glancing inside the gym again. Noya had now joined the benched players, though it looked as if he were searching for Asahi and the coach. 

“I was afraid as much,” Coach Ukai sighed. He took out a cigarette from his pocket and clicked on a lighter.

“You knew?” Asahi asked, trying to douse the anger beginning to boil in his stomach. If Coach knew, then why–

“No. I mean, not really, anyways. Takeda had his suspicions as a faculty member, but there was nothing that they could really pin down. Otherwise the authorities would be notified.” Coach Ukai said, taking a large drag from his cigarette. Asahi took a deep breath to calm himself down. Coach Ukai placed a hand on Asahi’s shoulder and gave him a small smile in an attempt to put him at ease.

“Come on, ace, let’s get back in there before the others start askin’ dumb questions,” Coach said, gently nudging Asahi towards the door. He took one last drag of his cigarette before stomping it out on the ground.

“Oh, one more thing,” Coach said, and Asahi stopped, one foot in the gym. “Do you know why Kageyama has been actin’ weird lately? He seemed nervous as hell before learning the team we were playing,”

“Really?” Asahi asked. He thought about it for a moment. “He must be worried about playing a team with his old teammates. I think Hinata said that a couple of his teammates were on Aoba Johsai.”

Asahi went back into the gym with a small shrug. Coach Ukai mulled this thought around in his head for a moment or two. It would make sense, especially considering Kageyama’s fear of having no one to set to. Still, it didn’t sit right with him. 

“That was amazing! You were all like WHOOSH and then ZOOM and then BAM!” Hinata praised, jumping around Nishinoya like an excited puppy. 

“It’s because of all my awesome practice at home.” Noya chuckled with a smug grin on his face.

“Wow. He really takes volleyball to a whole other level.” Hinata and Tanaka praised, both with their hands over their hearts. 

“Only the best for the Karasuno crows!” Noya said proudly, pointing at the final point score of their final third set. Karasuno had (finally) won 25-23.

“Alright, alright. Let’s get back home.” Asahi said fondly, rolling his eyes. He could only let this gloating go so far before those three yelled so loudly that they burst their vocal chords.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten, Hinata! You’re dead!” Kageyama yelled from across the gym. Hinata yelped and rushed over to Nekoma’s team, hiding behind Kenma. 

“Protect me!” Hinata pleaded, holding Kenma by the shoulders and using him as a human shield. 

Asahi grabbed Noya by the collar and picked him up, dragging him out of the gym.

“Asahi! Stop! I wanna see Hinata and Kageyama fight again! No fair!” Noya whined, trying to catch a glimpse of the action.

“If you’re not careful, I may tell the team just how ticklish their own libero is. You wouldn’t want that, right?” Asahi said quietly, raising an eyebrow at Noya. A shiver ran up Noya’s spine at just the thought. He pouted and followed Asahi a little more willingly. 

They changed their shoes and each took a bag of Noya’s clothes. Without too much grumbling, Noya began walking with Asahi back to Asahi’s house. About halfway there, most of the regular energy had drained out of him.

“Thank you, Asahi.” Noya said. Asahi smiled and ruffled Noya’s hair.

“I’ve always got your back,”

(3/25)

-GA!babe