#when i was trying to buy it the listing said it was sold out despite there being stock so i thought somebody

[madspeed]

Thought I'd show off a few things that came in this month!! It's a Raidou Kuzunoha garage kit from the 2007 wonder festival showcase and a Lisa Silverman figure I got signed by Lotus Juice..!!!!

Finding the Raidou kit was an insanely lucky find, let alone finding it with it's seal still in tact. I've only ever seen around 2 listings from within the last decade, and this kit actually even has counterfeit casts that went around for a bit! I may post pictures of me putting him together, but first I need to buy new sand paper lol.

[nocasdatsgay]

Sold

Pairing: Technically Lucien/Reader | Word Count: 1739| Rating M

Summary: Beron buys you for his sons. Specifically, Lucien

Warnings: Family sells reader off to the forest house, Dubious Consent, Loss of Virginity, mildly descriptive sex. Brief physical abuse.

A/N: This is the first in a series where consorts are kept by Beron to keep his sons entertained. You are responsible for what you consume. Also IDK if anyone wants to be tagged so let me know. I am so scared of tagging people on iffy stuff that might be triggering.

Harlots of Autumn Master List | Read on AO3 |Part 1 of Harlots of Autumn

The day you were presented to the court during a ball as an eligible female, was the day that sealed your fate. You were meant to secure a husband and elevate your family’s status just like your cousins. It was harder for you, not being of the Autumn Court. That didn’t mean you couldn’t try. You had begged your aunt and uncle to take you to the next ball and begrudgingly they did. You regretted it when you were watched like an Autumn Hawk by five of the seven Vanserra heirs.

The youngest- he was your age or possibly a little older. He seemed the least intimidating of them all. He didn’t pay you much mind, thankfully. Only chatted with you for a brief moment. You thought that was why his brothers were staring. But you still felt eyes on you as you worked the room, talking up males closer to your station than an Heir of the High Lord. You felt confident in your mingling by the end of the night. Until you went to leave and instead of immediately traveling home, you were pulled into a room by your uncle.

“The High Lord has made an offer for you.” He did not look you in the eyes.

“For me?” You frowned. Your aunt looked solemn and not meeting your gaze either. “What kind of offer?”

“You have to understand, dear. You’re getting older and with the new babe to raise- You’ll be well taken care of.” She said softly.

“I don’t understand.” You mind flashed to the way the heirs' eyes raked over you. How they sneered and watched you all night. “Am I, am I to be betrothed?”

“No. No, you won’t be married.”

You were more confused. “What did he offer you? What does he want with me?” You became more frightened the longer his silence went.

“Being an orphan and from another court, this was honestly the best choice.” Your aunt seemed to speak to herself instead of you.

“What did you do?” Your heart was racing, tears welling in your eyes.

Your uncle finally looked at you. His sadness was palpable.

“He gave us more land- more money than we know what to do with, in exchange for you. For his sons.”

“Sons?” Your were going to be sick. More tears clouded your vision. You knew exactly what that meant. “You gave me up to be a harlot? For some extra land and money?”

“You’ll be taken care of. You’ll be paid handsomely, and have your own money. You’ll be part of the court. It’s a life better than what a male of our station could ever-”

“But I will be a whore!” You cried out.

“You will be a mistress,” your uncle hissed. “This is not a brothel, you’ll be under the protection of the High Lord. You’ll still be able to see us-“

“As I would want to see you after this,” you hissed in return.

He back-handed you for it. You stumbled and cradled your cheek.

“He wants you for his youngest first,” your uncle continued, glaring at you. “You’re lucky he doesn’t want you for himself. If you’re smart you just might become the youngest son’s wife.”

“A whore never becomes a wife,” you whispered.

“This is not a debate. We will go home and pack your things. They want you back here by tomorrow afternoon.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You wondered if you could die of shame.

Walking into the Forest House the next day, your aunt made you hold your head high despite your fate. You were ushered down the halls to the infirmary to meet with the healer. Thankfully the healer was female. You were in good health. You held your breath as the female went under your skirts and checked you. You had declined male advances your whole life, waiting like a good female for a husband.

Obviously that got you far.

That evening you were led to a room and bathed by servants. The pine green dress they gave you to put on was worth more than months wages in the village, judging by the fabric. They styled your hair and you avoided looking at yourself in the mirror. More servants brought you food and then finally you were left alone. You couldn’t eat, nausea from nerves rolling your stomach. You wanted to rage; to cry. You knew your aunt and uncle didn’t love you- not when you were the cause of your mother’s death during childbirth. But you never thought they would sell you.

The door opened, jolting you from your thoughts. The kind male you spoke with briefly last night came in. He was just as lovely as the night before; dressed down in a white tunic and brown trousers. He smiled, though it didn’t reach his kind eyes. You stood and curtsied.

“Lord Lucien,” she stared at the floor.

You introduced yourself and stumbled over the title of lady. You didn’t know if you could call yourself a lady now.

“I remember,” he replied softly.

You dared to look up, your eyes meeting his sad russet ones.

“Shall we get this over with?” You glanced at the bed in the room, twisting your hands together.

Lucien scoffed. “We don’t have to do this.”

You frowned, fear flipped your stomach. “They will check me.”

“There are ways around that,” Lucien replied flippantly.

You started to panic.

“Lord Lucien, if you are as kind of a male as you seem, please allow me this comfort.” You pleaded. “I- you seem like you’d be more gentle than your brothers.” You were met with silence. “Please? I don’t want to force you but I also don’t-“ you couldn’t say it.

If he didn’t take your maidenhood, one of the other males would. You doubted they cared whether or not they hurt you badly. Lucien sighed heavily; you wonder if he was realizing the same thing.

“Promise me you will tell me if I hurt you.” You nodded. “Can I undress you?”

“Yes.” Your face heated against your will.

“Turn around. I’ll only take off your dress, then you can get on the bed.”

You inhaled deeply to calm your nerves and turned to face away from him. You heard his footsteps; he stopped behind you and gently brushed back your hair. Goosebumps cascaded down your arms, and he slowly dragged his fingers down your neck to where your dress ties started on your back.

“Oh you’re a devil,” you laughed, unable to stop yourself.

He chuckled behind you. “I want to make it good for you, is that not what you asked for?”

“I suppose I did.”

He undid the ties to your dress, the front of it falling forward. You held the fabric close to your chest instead of letting it fall out of instinct. Lucien ran a warm finger up your spine. He leaned in close and you tense your shoulders.

“Drop the dress and get on the bed.” His warm breath fanned along your ear and neck.

Reluctantly, you obliged. The bed was soft, better than the one in the place you once called home. The duvet was a forest green with white sheets underneath. You shuddered at how those sheets would be stained by the end of this. You covered your chest with your arms and sat at the head of the bed.

“Don’t be so shy,” he grinned wickedly at you as he tugged off his shirt.

Your eyes went to his chest, then downward to his trousers before quickly you looked back to his eyes. It felt like your whole face was flushed. He crawled up the bed to you and you could smell his scent sweeten with arousal. He looked like it would eat you alive, the way he grinned at you.

“Lay back, let me see you.” He groaned when you moved your arms, revealing your breasts. “You are a pretty one.”

He pushed you back and crawled over you. You were correct about his gentleness. He was so careful with you, asking you constantly if it was okay to touch you or if it hurt. Lucien coaxed you into relaxing by kissing you gently and then moving down to take your breast in his mouth. He had you squirming under him, your hips rolling against his and his hard cock in his trousers. Lucien moved down further and made you come on his tongue and fingers before he took you with his cock. Then he made you come again with him.

Good was an understatement of how you felt. You didn’t come to your senses until he moved off of you. Then you felt too naked, cold from his lack of body heat over you. You moved to get out of the bed, to grab the dress from earlier, if only to cover yourself before the healers came. You looked back at the sheets and gasped. Lucien was lying on the other side of the bed, arm over his eyes to block out the light. He lifted his arm to look at you.

“Are you all right?”

“The sheets,” you grabbed the dress off the floor to cover yourself. “They’re clean.”

”I don’t know about that. I know I broke a sweat getting that second one out of you.” Lucien grinned at you. “You were pretty wet for me too when I finally fucked you. I’m sure that’s on the sheets as well.”

“There’s no blood, Lucien,” you scowled, cheeks flushing at his blatant crudeness.

He laughed. “Females only bleed when a male doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

”But the healer-“

”Edith won’t care, I promise.” He sat up and looked over the bed for his own clothes. “Let me go get her, I’m sure she’s ready to be done with this as we are.”

Regrettably, that was the first and only time you went to bed with Lucien. You had assumed before that night that you were sent to take his own first time but Lucien was far too experienced for that to be the case. You later found out the real reason you were given to him was because of his dalliance with lesser fae. As crudely put by one of the brothers, they “assumed a high fae cunt would change his mind.”

It didn’t; and a few years later a poor female paid the price for it. You wouldn’t see Lucien again after that for another century.

[sirfrogsworth]

Adventures in Cooling

The 5-star rated HVAC repair service I used kind of depressed me.

It was almost... too good?

Like, they offer 24/7 service. They have a text message system that lets you know when the tech is coming. Every tech has their own custom van that serves as a giant advertisement. The entire process is documented with a tablet computer. Every serial number and model number must be photographed. He has to follow a diagnostic checklist. And an upsell checklist. And a repair checklist. He had so many checklists that at one point he pulled a card out of his wallet to make sure he didn't forget one of the steps. He had a poorly memorized speech for every upsell. You could tell he didn't have "his" tools, but the company's tools that he borrowed.

None of this was "bad" as far as a workflow. The service was flawless and nothing was forgotten. But you could tell that every detail was micromanaged and if the tech didn't follow the procedures to the letter, he would probably get some kind of demerit.

I felt sorry for my tech. He was in his 60s and clearly had a severe chronic knee injury. He walked slower than I do. He was quite monosyllabic and difficult to make conversation with. Not unpleasant, just not great at communicating.

At one point I asked him if I was a good candidate for a heat pump and he was like, "Everyone is."

End of advice.

Oh, and the uniform.

The uniform was very silly.

Every square inch of his shirt was meant to assure people they have a qualified technician. The one sleeve listed his certifications from some Alphabet Association that certifies such things. And then the other sleeve made sure to let me know my technician was drug tested and background checked.

The entire visit I kept trying to imagine how being stoned might negatively affect HVAC repair. I mean, if he was on a little cocaine perhaps we could have wrapped things up 30 minutes sooner. Marijuana might have helped him communicate. Opioids could make his knee feel better. I don't think shrooms would have been a good idea. If he hallucinated an angry fan monster in my A/C unit that could have been really awkward.

He was a terrible salesman—but for some reason, I fell for every upsell. Actually, I sold all of the upsells to myself in my head. I got a new filter and had him install it because I worried I would forget or I would install it improperly (not really possible, you just stick it in). But for the price I paid I could have bought 6 years worth of filters.

I just wanted everything sorted. I am so stressed and do not have the bandwidth to deal with A/C troubles. So I just said "yes" to everything. But the price kept inflating as we went along and every time it inflated he required a signature on his tablet.

This repair business had been corporatized to death and it made me miss all of my dad's friends from the old days who he would ask for favors. He always "knew a guy." He would trade car repairs for discounts on things we needed around the house. And they all worked for themselves and had their own tools and their own shitty truck and they all said, "There's your problem!" with the same masculine affect.

Their uniform was a flannel shirt and jeans and I bet some of them were high as fuck.

And this elderly gentlemen with the bum knee kept checking his checklist to make sure he checked every check because he feared managerial discipline.

He got to the sales pitch for the fluorescent dye. He was like, "Do you want this? You don't have to buy it." And I started selling it to myself in my head despite his assurance it wasn't really necessary. I worried if I had a big leak and I don't discover it until the middle of July, I would regret saying no in this moment. But then I realized he hated the dye injection process. And his poor salesmanship was mostly him not wanting his hands to be fucking radioactive yellow for the rest of the day. He tried wearing gloves to avoid it, but he still ended up with yellow hands and grumbled, "I really hate this stuff." Which was one of the few unrehearsed things he said to me the entire time.

Once the checklist was complete and the house was already starting to cool, he had one final sales pitch for me. He asked that I give his company a 5-star review and to make sure I mention his name. He told me that in July all of the techs with the most 5-star reviews will have their names put in a hat. And "the boss" will give one lucky employee a free vacation.

This vacation thing sounded like such a manipulation. And I'm sure "the boss" has instructed his techs to tell this tale of the free vacation so customers will be like, "Well, shit. I don't want this poor old guy with the shitty knee to miss out on that."

And it was then I realized just how this company got so many 5-star reviews.

Diabolical.

But the good news... my house is cold as heck.

And I keep shivering because I can't figure out the perfect setting on my thermostat. I guess I was used to the inefficiency and I will have to recalibrate.

[jodilin65]

Canceled my GYN appointment yesterday. Now that I’ve figured out it’s best to dab a little moisturizer up there each day before bed rather than wrestle with applicators every few days to a week, I’m hoping I won’t have any more problems down there.

After not being into Pinterest very much these last couple of years or so, I’ve been having fun building old boards and new boards.

The Bonjour Zephyr golf course came out yesterday and it’s okay. It’s a surreal virtual world that places you at the top of the Eiffel Tower.

I went on a quick walk yesterday morning despite the cold and saw that Ray’s car still has a Michigan plate so that’s a good thing. Means he hasn’t sold his house yet.

The latch hook rug kit came and I had to watch a video to refresh myself on how to do it. It’s not as easy as I remember it to be but then I wasn’t this blind the last time I did it. I just won’t be able to go very fast but then what’s the hurry?

Tom gave plasma yesterday and downloaded the mate.ai app so I could refer him and get credit. That credit was in the form of 20 gems. He’s not into this sort of thing though so he may delete the app which is fine.

It’s too hard to do with my shitty vision but I wanted to try it at least once so I asked Mia and Amanda at the same time what they last ate. Amanda had a fruit salad, and Mia said, “Last night, I had grilled chicken with roasted veggies and quinoa. It was delicious.”

Andy said, “Tonight’s dinner is fried cod on a bed of romaine lettuce with grilled asparagus and a baked sweet potato along with a mandarin orange.”

I love it all, but the mandarin. I’d still eat it if I could get results, but not with this thyroid. I just wonder how he can afford to eat like this. Cod and asparagus are expensive but every now and then I’ll get asparagus when it’s on sale.

Not much in the way of dreams lately. Just a few dreams in which I didn’t seem to know Tom in any of them. In one dream, Andy and I hoped to get into this cabin-like house that was kind of remote but when he realized he would have to drive a few hours every day, it was out of the question.

Then not surprisingly, since she was on my mind having been my inspiration for getting the cross stitch kit which comes later in the month, that person was in my dreams too. I was in the backseat of her car as she and what I assumed to be her girlfriend were driving me up north. A split second later we were in a hotel room. I was lying on the bed furthest from the door and the girlfriend left to get ice while her other half sat reading something in a magazine. I was worried about something and she told me not to worry and suggested I turn over on my tummy and get some sleep. I was about to ask how she knew that was my favorite sleeping position but then I smiled to myself and realized she probably read that and knew me better than I thought.

Then Nancy K showed up in my dreams of all people. The one who was in jail. I was applying for the Snap program and she worked at my local office. The weird thing was that instead of them giving you an EBT card to buy whatever food you wanted, they had you fill out a list of the foods you ate and they gave you coupons for those particular foods.

[anonil88]

Why won't anyone hire me?

Why won't anyone hire me? Is that selfish to ask.

I hate that my finances are up and down month to month with no feeling of well at least I work x or I got something saved. I even kept some length to my hair so I dont look too harsh for interviews, hard time looking in the mirror cause of it. This is the normal and what being an adult is, I'm told but no one will say why that can't change. This thing millions of people experience before me and alongside me is just the way things are. Don't like that.

Making a mental list of all the things I need to change or seemingly change to make myself more hireable. I hate that hireable just means marketable. I don't like being considered a product in any sense. Promoting my art is easier cause I don't have to be the complete face but thats been changing with social media algorithms and needing to promote since no job. At least someone might wanna buy some art or commission a design. One commission will mean groceries or even paying off some bills.

Overwhelmed with everything you do can become a profit. I don't think that's what economist meant when they said diversify your skills and income.

I can make people's vision creatively come to life out of nothing but I can't create a path for myself, I can't create a job or resources to sustain myself or anyone else. Maybe I'm too confrontational with asking how in work places. Is it just me.

Put some stuff up on poshmark only sold a pair of shoes a few weeks ago despite being on there for years now. I don't really know what will see there right now. I kinda fell out of trend cycle. The biggest sale I will make which is private i can't sell until fall/winter.

I look at my hands and wonder when did I get it all so wrong. Tuck my thumbs under my fingers and close my eyes trying to manifest and hope something will occur. I dont know if i entirely believe it anymore or maybe anything really. I still hope somewhere its heard and something bounces back. My faith in human nature might fall faster though. Faith doesn't work with no do but it seems neither does doing.

I'm not depressed not yet no, but just in this state of I don't know what to do next.

I wonder if nepotism rich babies know how good they got it. Are they born knowing.

Ca: $Naniw13

[scumtrout]

Thing is, though, I have no idea if he's good enough at anything apart from perhaps writing, because the proof is in the pudding for that. (And, granted, when it comes to writing, 'good' is a very subjectibe term; 'popular' and 'widely-sold' might be better metrics. Fifty Shades is a popular and widely-sold novel but I still don't have any time for it.)

I don't know what he's actually like as a parent, manager, or law student. The context in which he references these things makes me feel like I'm meant to be impressed by them, e.g. he's giving me little tells that are meant to make me think 'this guy knows his stuff in multiple domains'. Unfortunately for him, this then makes a little red flag pop up in my brain because… I am assessing this guy on his ability to write a book on writing, and I don't particularly care if he's a parent or law student, unless he also explains how this makes him a better writer. I would care if the blurb said something like, '[author] is a regular contributor of [popular writing magazine] and he is the author of [award-winning novel]', but the stuff about him being a law student is like… Okay? It's a bit like something a guy would say while trying to chat you up. It feels like the writer is impling I should be impressed, which then makes me feel like I'm being subjected to a teeny tiny manipulation attempt, which then makes me feel skeptical.

It's entirely possible that he is very competent in all of those domains. I just think that the probability of someone being consistently competent in all of those domains drops after a certain point, because there are a finite number of hours in the day. And I have a little rule in my brain that says 'if someone makes claims of being competent in multiple domains, then you need evidence of this - e.g. qualifications, eyewitness accounts, personal observations - before you belive them'. My mind likely works this way because it's one of those areas where it seems beneficial to err on the side of caution; people tend to have a lot to gain by hyping their own competence, whereas actual competence tends to speak for itself (e.g. it's easy to learn that this guy CAN write and market a lot of books, so the other info included in his description seems… not very relevant unless he thinks it should impress people).

Funnily enough, he would've seemed more credible to me if the blurb had just said '[author]… writes 6-8 novels a year', and not included '[author]… is a manager at a Fortune 100 company and law student'. It would've worked MUCH better on me if it said, 'he writes 6-8 novels a year and last year his books sold [N] copies'. There are still ways for someone to massage their writing stats (his books sold [N] copies? Compared to what? I'm naive enough that I'd be susceptible to any big number!), but at least it'd feel more relevant instead of giving a small laundry list of stuff that probabily impresses people at parties.

Granted, I'd bet that the book's blurb is unlikely to be a 'problem' that deter people from reading the book, despite my personal aversion to it. If I was just looking for a book on writing, I'd be okay with it. But instead my conditions are 'I'm looking for a book on writing AND I want a book that's unlikely to be a reshash of things other people have said, churned out as part of someone's side-hustle' and... eeehhh I'm getting churn vibes from this guy. It doesn't help that I found his book through Everand, and a good chunk of Everand's catalogue consists of works that feel like a rehash of something else.

Everand seems to have a pretty big catalogue covered by its monthly subscription fee, and I do feel like this catalogue has been padded with stuff that's not technically bad but still stuff I wouldn't buy if it was a one-off purchase. (It's telling that despite having an Everand subscription, I've still kept my Audible subscription; when I use an Audible credit, I'll feel confident that I'll enjoy the book I've chosen, whereas whenever I find a book I enjoy on Everand, it's, erm, a pleasant surprise.)

Man I read the above and unfortunately my instinctive reaction was 'there's no way I'm reading any of these guy's novels unless people stress to me that they're actually good'.

[swanimagines]

Hi, it's me again! If it's ok, can I ask for D11 + Pin for the Freddy Carter event, please? And if you don't mind, can it be platonic, please? I always have a soft spot for platonic fics (I think you noticed this by now...) and I love how you write those!

FREDDY EVENT, send in requests for any of Freddy Carter's characters (NOT the man himself (= no Freddy Carter (the real person) x readers), only his characters)!! The event will be on for an indefinite time, if you're unsure, see if the event post is pinned. If it is, then it's still on. (Other requests are open too, but they go to my normal to-do list which I'm not able to start doing til March at earliest)

I bought 16 books at the start of the year so it's a relevant topic XD My head pounded as empty though when I tried to start this so this might feel a bit random, but I hope you like it anyway! It wasn't all about books in the end anyway, my first idea was them being in a bookshop together and Y/N buying a big pile of books but it didn't carry.

Prompt: D11. Books

Word count: 818

Your favorite way to past time, beside horses, had always been reading. You'd found a book in the library you had been drooling for months, but it had been sold out everywhere, and now you were quick into devouring it. You snuggled up at the hay shelter with a blanket as you read a few chapters more. At least you meant for it to be just a few chapters, but you suddenly snapped into reality when you realized that sun had already almost set and that you should have probably headed back to Pin's house hours ago. You hoped that his father wouldn't be mad at you, after all, he had kindly took you in when you came to visit the island from the mainland, despite not seeing you since you were no taller than a fire extinguisher. You and Pin had been best friends until you had to move to the mainland, but you had come back to visit once you saw the picture of the new Duke of the island and recognized the name.

Your stomach let out a loud growl in protest of not eating anything since lunch, and you groaned, climbing down from the hay pile.

"Y/N? What are you doing here this late? We thought you went home, almost everyone else did too," you heard a voice say from the left and you turned to see Pin. You smiled sheepishly.

"Got lost into a book again..." you replied, waving the said book in front of him. "I just get so invested in them, I didn't look at the time, and now I'm hungry. I know missed dinner, sorry."

He chuckled. "Don't worry about it, we all know how it is. I think there's some snacks in the fridge in the tack room, you'll manage with them until the morning. Come on."

You followed him to the tack room, and soon you had a sandwich in your hand and a bottle of fresh juice in the other, gratefully munching away and sipping the cold drink. Pin waited around until you had finished eating, making notes of all the work the team had done that day and after that, you mounted your horses and began riding towards Pin's castle.

"So... any exciting stuff in your book?" Pin asked after riding for a while and you snorted.

"If you keep asking for spoilers, you have soon read the book without reading it. You have to read the book, I refuse from giving away any more."

"Fair enough then," he chuckled.

The sun was setting by the time you reached the castle and you dismounted your horse and led her to the stable, taking off her equipment and giving her some hay and fresh water, before you kissed her goodnight. Pin waited you outside the stall, already having done it with Elvis. You yawned and stretched, trying to find the energy to go upstairs, change into your pajamas and brush your teeth. The thought of that all felt very unpleasant while being so tired. At this point, you weren't so sure anymore if you had been the hero in the story instead of the protagonist, at least she had done a lot during those chapters you had read.

Pin looked amused when he saw how tired you were. "Do you need me to carry you?"

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. "Oh stop it, I'm perfectly capable of going upstairs by myself."

He grinned and nodded towards the front door, where Arthur was already waiting for you. He gave you a friendly smile as you passed him, and you went straight to your room, brushing your teeth and changing into your nightwear. You went to bed and closed your eyes - but suddenly you weren't sleepy anymore. Your eyes automatically drifted to the book peeking out from your bag, and you sighed.

No. You're sleeping. You are not picking up the book, you'll read the whole night again. You nodded at yourself determinedly, pursing your lips and rolled over to forget about the book.

But like many mornings before, when Arthur came to wake you up for breakfast, he found you with your book lying beside your pillow, you having fallen to sleep while reading your book. So he closed the door, deciding to let you sleep for a while longer, already knowing that Pin would agree on that too. They all knew about your severe case of bookwormness, but it wasn't a bad thing. Pin liked hearing you rambling about your favorite characters, and everyone else at the stables had so gotten used to you sitting somewhere quiet with your book that it would feel weird not seeing you like that for longer than a week.

You just were part of their days, even when you hadn't been on the island for a long time now, but you had quickly grown to be one of them.

Pin taglist for Freddy event: @scandalous-chaos @brekkers-desigirl @mentallynotstableghost // send in an ask to be added, and specify which of Freddy's characters do you want to be tagged on! (This taglist is for Freddy event only, I won't take character taglists for anyone else than Freddy's characters)

[spidxysense]

Back to You | 14

Summary: He broke your heart, but you’d always love him. Two souls that not even the universe could tear apart, even if you wanted it to at times.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader x Timothee Chalamet

A/N: Yay I updated! I hope you guys like this one, I was stuck for a bit there but once I sat down and got to typing, I really finished it in one sitting. I was just planning on updating it bit by bit lol. Let me know what you guys think, Love you!!!!!!

Word count: 2,591

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

In a few short months of your movie premier with Timothee, you were finally able to release your double-release album, and the response was massive, to say the least. You'd been getting calls from different show hosts' upcoming awarding ceremonies. Still, you couldn't for life in you accept, all except for the Oscars, which your manager told you was a must since you'd be attending in the first place anyway and that performing at the Oscars was a big deal given that you also starred in films and shows.

You turned in bed, facing Timothee's sleeping face. He had been in town for a week now, back on a break from filming in Hungary. Then he'd be back to film in England in a couple of weeks. After your talk on your premiere night, it was to an agreement that whatever you had going on was just two people exploring and experiencing things with someone they had strong feelings for. There wasn't a need for a media circus to cover anything about you two except your movie.

You move his arm, placed it over your waist, and sit up slowly in bed, making sure not to stir Timothee. The jetlag must be shit. You stretched your arms in front of you, glancing at the clock that read 2:07 AM. You get up, grabbing Timothee's white shirt from the floor, and, putting it on, walking over to the bathroom. You looked at yourself in the mirror, touching some of the reddening parts of your neck courtesy of Timothee, and then you notice the toothbrushes… there were two. From this single thing alone, it had you catching everything about the bathroom, how there were two towels, one black, and one violet, which just so happened to be your favorite color.

You walked over to the nightstand beside the bed, putting on your skinny jeans, turning on the lamp, and noticing his wallet. Inside was a picture of you. Opening the closet doors, the ones hung up were various suits, jackets, and even dresses you've worn to events. Why didn't he just send these back? Why would he let you keep your stuff in his house?

You drag your feet downstairs, noticing small details you'd been blind to before, like the large dog bed positioned by the door despite Timothee telling you he could only ever get himself to take care of a tiny dog. You noticed the colored mugs and bowls, a deep dull navy blue color, the same as the ones in your house. Suddenly, everything feels as if it's moving too fast. You both agreed there was no relationship, and there was attraction, but why does his home feel like it's become yours as well?

You sit down, taking a few deep breaths before deciding to stand up and grab your cardigan from the coathanger, opening the front door and closing it behind you as you waited for a taxi to bring you to the more active part of the city at night.

You just couldn't deal with a relationship right now. You couldn't let your heart get broken again, so you have to find ways to distract yourself.

The car stops in front of you, driving off into the night and dropping you off by a club that Troye agreed to meet you at.

You and Timothee had an attraction, but you both agreed there was no label; ergo, there was no intimate relationship even though you both have done everything together. No boyfriend means you were free to do whatever you wanted without worrying about him. But if you were honest with yourself, this was more of you suggesting something you already knew Timothee wasn't too keen on agreeing with but would just because he thought that having something with you was better than absolutely nothing. You saw Troye waiting out by the back entrance for you when he spotted you and called you over. Almost like clockwork, every time you snuck out away from Timothee, everything in you screamed to turn back, to clear your head, and for the first time, you listened.

You motioned for Troye to go ahead and sent him a text that you'd probably just head home because you weren't feeling well. He gave you a knowing look before looking like he finally approved of your actions and sent you a quick and short 'Good." text, and headed inside.

You walked around for a while after that. Soon it was already just about 5 in the morning, and even though you wouldn't let yourself come to any conclusion as to what you even wanted out of this almost relationship with Timothee, you still found yourself back at his front door.

You took out the keys in your pocket, slowly opening the door only to find Timothee sat on the couch, his knees up to his chest as he stared off into space, either deep in thought or trying to keep himself awake… maybe even both.

When he saw you enter, a soft smile formed on his face, and for some reason, that made you smile too.

"Hey, you." He spoke softly.

You sat down quietly next to him, instantly he set his feet on the ground and reached over to embrace you in a hug, the familiar scent of Timothee that never left you that evening even more evident… It felt and smelled familiar, and right now, while your mind was a mess, familiarity was what you needed.

Timothee lifted his head, worried, "Hey, are you alright?"

You sighed, "I don't want to hurt you."

He murmured quietly into your neck as he peppered kisses, "You could never."

You pulled away, feeling guilt in your bones, "Aren't you even a little bit frustrated that we've been like this for months? That even in private, we can't even say that we're in a relationship?"

You gave you a reassuring look, "We both wanted this Y/N."

You sat up, "Except we didn't… You didn't." You corrected yourself, "You're bringing your mother to the fucking Oscars next month because I told you we couldn't be seen together at carpets for Pete's sake."

You stood up, starting to pace back and forth, "We have to coordinate outfits for the sake of not matching, and we never go out because I can't be seen with you in fear that we're going to get found out. I'm a terrible fucking person, and I don't understand how you're so okay with this."

Timothee was grinning, sleep still in his eyes, "I'm okay with it because I love you, Y/N."

You froze in your spot, "You what?"

He nodded and got up, walking over to you. The blue light of the early morning peaking through the curtain made this moment feel and look ethereal, "I said I love you, Y/N. I've known that I loved you from the moment I met you." He kissed the top of your head as he embraced you.

You shook your head, "No, no, no, you don't. I'll even list more shit I've done to you just so you understand how and why you don't love me."

Timothee chuckled, "And yet despite all this... all that's registering in my head is the fact that you've been thinking of me and only me this whole time. You've been worried about how you're hurting me because you don't want to."

And that's when you realized that Timothee was right. This whole time you've been thinking of Timothee and how much you wanted to protect him from you, but he never wanted to be protected from you because he knew that you could never hurt him. You rested your forehead against his.

"I-I need to go. I need to think."

He smiled sadly, "I'll be here when you're ready. I'll always be here Y/N until you don't want me to be here anymore."

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

You sat in your house, since leaving Timothee's earlier, you had been sat there lost in thought as you argued with yourself. It was true, the last thing you wanted was to hurt Timothee, but you were confused because it's like you couldn't understand your feelings. After all, a particular person still held a large part of it in his hands.

Timothee was there for you. Late night at the recording studio, whether through being there physically or even calling you or skyping you, he was always there. He was there with you when you bought all your albums from Target, and he was also the one who insisted you find another target that hasn't sold out your CDs so he could buy all of them too. Timothee was there with you when you had interviews that you almost felt like you could puke from nervousness backstage as he watched you talk about another celebrity you were getting linked to, and he was there with you to giggle about how stupid talk shows were. Timothee was always there. Whether it was dancing, kissing, or even fighting in the rain, he was always with you. He always wanted you around. Even when you rode the subway to get to a press conference of his or a promo for his upcoming movie, he always wanted you with him. He'd run with you in the rain, and he'd kiss away the sadness when you didn't want to speak with him. He was there with you when you get the sudden urge to buy all the popsicles from the nearest whole foods, and he was there with you when you got sick with the flu, which he also got from you. You'd spend afternoons walking around a far-off hill as you two put flowers in your hair despite knowing that you two probably had your busy schedules. Nothing mattered when you were with Timothee. Nothing mattered except each other. A part of you felt hurt that these memories you had kept of you and Tom were slowly being replaced by everything Timothee, but a large part of you also knew that the person you have now had no doubt that you couldn't ignore your feelings. You couldn't have to take Timothee out of your life.

Making up your mind, you got up, got dressed, and left for where you were sure you would find Tom.

He was in the middle of filming a new movie, but the second he saw you, he immediately asked to stop filming, a familiar, loving face plastered on as he walked over to you before being stopped by the director. They looked to be having a bit of a disagreement before he pointed you out, and the director looked at you in realization, patting him on the back and allowing him to jog over to you.

"Hey." You paused, your hand grasping your arm, and Tom took notice right away.

His eyebrows furrowed, "Hey, what's wrong?" He pulls you to sit by the curb as you two sat side by side, "You only do that when you're having a hard time saying something."

You gave him a look, "Well… I came here to ask you if it was alright if I try things out with Timothee."

He looked taken aback, "Oh, well, honestly, I thought you came by to sort things out between us…." He took notice of the way you looked down in guilt, "I don't think you could do anything with another guy that wouldn't upset me… but I don't really get that prerogative anymore, Y/N." He sighed, wrapping an arm around you to comfort you, "The fact is, you're trying to grow into who you've always wanted to be, and I'm trying to do that too for the sake of us and what we could be. If that means that you need or want to date someone again, I'll fully support you, but the most important thing is, does he make you happy?"

You sighed, looking out onto the filming lot, and nodded slowly, not noticing the slight upset look on Tom's face, "I catch myself sometimes smiling to myself when I think of him… But it's like I can't do anything because I don't want to let go of what we had."

Tom took a gulp, deciding that what was important right now was you, more than what he wanted, "What we had and what we were isn't important anymore Y/N. I'm working towards what we could become. What we had was co-dependency and a constant need to be in each other's presence to prove that what we had was perfect. I want us to find each other again in the future and know that no matter how far apart we are, if hopefully, we get together again, there is nobody in this world we'll love more… and that's what I'm encouraging you to do. I want to grow with you and grow for each other, and if that means you dating other people to understand yourself more, then I support you."

You looked at Tom for a second before hugging him and pecking him on the cheek, "I really needed that, Tom. Thank you."

He hugged you tighter, "Anytime. I'll always be here for you, Y/N."

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

You gripped your seat in the car in pure nerves. You were on your way to the Oscars with your assistant constantly telling you about your performance and what not to mess up and things to remember, especially about reporters who wanted an interview with you. To say you were all nerves today was an understatement. You hadn't spoken to Timothee ever since you told him you needed time to think, so today would be the first time you would ever come face to face with him. You thought long and hard about everything between the two of you. Still, you think you're finally ready to actually put some time and effort into this… and if that meant doing things that would significantly make Timothee happy, then you'd do it.

Your assistant watched a live feed from the Oscars as she gave you updates on how Armie was on the carpet. Saoirse was on the carpet, talking about how she hoped to make a movie with you and various other stars. You were a few minutes away from the carpet when she spoke up again.

"Timothee has just arrived." then she looked at her phone and back at you, doing a double-take as you gave her a sheepish smile, all she could do was smile approvingly at you before going back to giving you live updates.

A few minutes later, and your heart didn't feel like it was going to slow down anytime soon as your assistant gave you a pep talk, "Y/N. You are gonna rock that carpet, you'll turn heads, and most importantly, you're gonna be the talk of the night. There is nothing that could go wrong tonight. Just take deep breaths and don't trip."

Luckily you were still coherent enough to understand what she said as you took deep breaths to calm your nerves.

"Alright, three… two… one." The door flew open as one of the large men in suits grabbed your hand and helped you out. Your dress was not providing you much flexibility to move, and for almost 15 seconds, it felt like everything was moving in slow motion as everyone was quiet. You found Timothee busy with an interview as the crowd looked from you to him, the topic on everyone's minds for the past few months. As if this were the only proof they needed, they held their cameras in their hands as they snapped pictures of you and a commotion started as they started asking for Timothee.

You think you gave them a quick, charming grin as you told them he was in an interview before walking towards the interviewer and Timothee. She was the first to notice while Timothee talked about how his mom stood him up as his Oscars date, something you arranged a week earlier and something Timothee's mom was more than happy to comply to.

The interviewer looks ecstatic as the only one and the first one on this carpet to get whatever the scoop was here, as she wasted no time when you slowly approached them, "Timothee! You said you were stood up, but you never told us that your backup would be late!"

Timothee shot her a confused look before he felt your arm slowly snake around his arm, "Sorry I'm late." You quickly whispered to him.

His face looked shocked. Almost as if a reflex, he almost pulled away from you before getting a good look at what you were wearing. His jaw looked like it would drop to the floor as he looked utterly awestruck.

The interviewer giggled nervously, already knowing her interview time was slowly coming to an end without any payoff to the two of you, "Timothee, you look to be speechless at Y/N's dress tonight." She looked at you hopefully, "Could everyone here assume this is date night?"

You smiled shyly at the lady before giving her a tiny curt nod, "I know it's a bit cliche to match outfits, but when I saw that Timothee was going to wear a harness, I just couldn't let him take all the attention for tonight, so I apologize, but I've kept this secret from him too just to make sure he doesn't do anything to take the spotlight, that's why he looks like he's just had a heart attack." you giggled.

He gave a quick, playful tilted look to you before blinking multiple times, "In my defense, I didn't even know that this was a harness... They told me this was a bib."

"Bib or not, you two look like the sexiest couple on the carpet, and I just so happen to be the luckiest interviewer tonight." The interviewer looked ecstatic as can be as she jumps up, more energetic to interview the two of you, "And well, Y/N, one look at you, and it's hard to believe anyone would still have the ability to speak. You look gorgeous." She winked at the camera, "But I can't help but notice you just confirmed this is date night… Is it safe to assume what everyone has been wondering for the past few months? That you two are dating?"

Somehow, Timothee finally snaps out of it and looks at you, a questioning look before you leaned over and spoke into the mic, "Yeah. We're together. We have been for a while now." You smiled sheepishly as you saw Timothee's face glow as he wrapped his arm around your waist, "I apologize for keeping quiet for so long, but we think it's the right time to go public now that we've decided to take things to a more serious level."

The interviewer waves a hand in the air, "As long as you two let us in on the secret, there's no problem there." She faced the camera, "You heard it here first, folks. Hollywood's newest and hottest up and coming power couple. From both Y/N and Timothee themselves, now going public with their relationship."

As you two walked away from the interviewer for more pictures, Timothee embraced you, uncaring of the cameras flashing in your faces, "Are you serious?"

You nodded slowly, "I'm ready to be with you completely, Timothee. I'm sorry I took so long."

He shook his head like a puppy, "As long as you're here with me now, Y/N, I don't care."

He pulled away at the sound of your name and his in the same sentence as the photographers asked for your attention. He quickly kisses you on the cheek as you shut your eyes and grinned, cameras going off and commotion started up at you two, the young hot couple everyone had wanted more details on.

Timothee clutched your waist tightly, almost like he was afraid that if he let go, this would all go back to how everything was before.

Before entering the venue, he pulled you to the side, "Are you sure about this? I don't want you to force yourself."

You shook your head, guiding his head to yours, "I think I'm in love with you too, Timothee. I'm all in with you." And then you kissed him.

[lunaastoir]

Heyhey! May I request a childe x reader where the reader simps for him but he doesn’t know? Like what if she was online best friends with the tsaritsa but the reader doesn’t know the tsaritsa is the tsaritsa so she constantly simps for childe to her. Like “OMG HE’S SO CUTE.” AND STUFF LIKE THAT. So since she’s like besties with the tsaritsa the cry archon decides to set her up? Thank you :>>>>

AAAAA NONNIE holds your hands gently this is so cute i love it :,) 

genshin doesn’t have internet/technology but for the sake of this ask shhhhhh we’re gonna pretend they do

i hope i interpreted your ask correctly, if i didn’t just lmk <3 

crack, fluFF- LOTS OF IT???

the tsaritsa’s meddling

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

all you wanted were groceries. that was all you wanted. you were standing in line behind the stall as you counted the items you needed to get. salt, milk, sugar, fowl, what else? you were lost in thought as you prayed that you had enough mora to buy everything - god knows how hard eating is as an adventurer. which was why, when you dropped your precious mora, your mind immediately went into panic mode. not now, not now, please don’t let the line move, you begged internally. in hindsight maybe if your mora hadn’t dropped, maybe if you weren’t at your wits end as a broke adventurer, maybe if you had just bought those damn ingredients sooner, you wouldn’t be in this position. as you breathed a sigh of relief after collecting your money and returned your gaze back to the stall, the only thing you could do was stare. where...did everyone go? instead of simply turning around and fleeing which should’ve been your first instinct considering how deserted the place was, you stood there trying to process the information. that was, until you saw a head of auburn hair peak up out of the stall. startled, you almost dropped your mora again. as the tuft of hair gave way to a very tall, handsome, blue eyed man, your brain short circuited. 

oh god how you wished you had run when you had the chance. you imagined you must have looked quite comical; mouth hanging slightly open, the list of ingredients fisted in your hands while mora was hanging precariously from your fingers. after what seemed like an eternity, the man seemed to finally notice you. 

“oh hey, you must not have noticed but this stall is sold out for the fatui” 

the sentence accompanied with his signature smile practically brought you to your knees. that smile? aimed at you? you would be surprised if you weren’t drooling. 

determined to not look like an absolute idiot you flashed him a smile of your own before saying, “sorry my bad, i must not have been paying attention” while doing what little you can to get some semblance of balance. tuck the mora here, try to balance your list more gracefully, move that piece of hair from your face. 

his eyes surveyed your undoubtedly disheveled appearance, before making a quick decision. 

“what items do you want, i’m sure i can spare a few ingredients for someone as pretty as you” 

one blink. another blink. did he just call you pretty? oh my- 

“oh no, it’s really ok, i can just get these later - it’s not that important anyway” you lied through your teeth. you needed those ingredients or you were most likely going to starve on the road but he didn’t need to know that. 

“don’t worry about it, as a harbinger i’m sure my subordinates can overlook a few missing ingredients” he smoothly said before gesturing you towards him. 

“i’m childe by the way, if you didn’t know” his eyes flicked up to meet yours.

“y/n” you offered while handing him the list. 

as he looked over what you needed, you tried your best to keep your breathing steady while your mind raced. if you didn’t know? of course you knew who he was, who didn’t? you would know better than most considering how often you thirsted about him to your mutual. if anything, you should’ve been the one saying that line to him. as an adventurer, you tend to not spend much time in liyue harbor, chasing down ruin guards and running errands was how you would rather keep yourself busy. however, ever since you saw childe in liyue, sharing a pot of tea with zhongli of all people, you started swinging by the harbor more often. fascination was what kept you seeking him out wherever you went. you had heard about the infamous eleventh harbinger, supposedly the youngest of them, all while being quite easy on the eyes. you had brushed off all the talk you had heard to just that - talk. international affairs wasn’t something you cared for and if anything, seeing the fatui made you wary. however, your curiosity grew after seeing him whenever you were in town. you chalked up your eyes subconsciously seeking out his figure to the fact that he was just an interesting guy. nothing wrong with wondering about a peculiar fellow, right?  you went through excuses upon excuses until finally, you had concluded that perhaps, maybe, you had a little crush on him. tiny, you assured yourself. just a tiny crush on a very attractive man. 

that crush then trickled over to your time spent talking to your mutual. it started off with little hints of “oh there’s this guy i saw and i thought he was kinda cute” to full blown hysteria of “PLS SEND HELP HE LOOKED SO GOOD TODAY.” @cryogoddess definitely had a lot of patience putting up with your thirsts over a man she didn’t even have the name of. you felt horrible sometimes since more than half of your conversation was about the newest detail you had noticed about childe - however your protests on boring her were met with reassurances about how no, you weren’t boring her, and yes, this is the most lighthearted talk she’s had her entire day so please keep going. you weren’t exactly sure what this woman did, or even how old she was. all you knew was she was someone who was constantly stressed (maybe a fellow adventurer?) and she was quite honest (which you happened to appreciate). despite how busy she was, she seemed to always make time for your texts which made you feel like you could trust her with anything.

“is that all? do you need anything else?” childe’s voice interrupted your mental tirade as you owlishly looked at him. 

“oh! yes that’s fine thank you” you smiled before taking the bag from him. grabbing the mora, you rushed to hand out the correct amount before he stopped you. 

“don’t worry about it, it’s on the house” he laughed slightly before waving your mora away. 

it’s on the- excuse me? did he just give you all this for free? is this what fatui hospitality is like?  

rushing to close your mouth, you quickly recovered while slurring out a quick “thank you so much” before shouldering your bag. your brain was currently running on fumes and you were very sure that if you stayed there any longer you might just combust. 

“well, i’ll be off then, thank you again” you shot him another smile before quickly scurrying away. 

without turning back to look at his expression, you moved as fast as humanly possible while trying not to seem like you were about to jump out of your skin. you didn’t know what was more embarrassing, your thumping heart or the dopey smile on your face. there was no way you were ever going to get over this, not with the way he looked at you the entire time. sighing, you put your bag down near a bench and pulled out your phone. at least you had an update for your friend that consisted of something other than just mindless thirsts. 

your mind was still reeling over from what happened as you texted her with shaking hands. the reply was immediate: “wow, you finally got up the courage to talk to him huh.” you rolled your eyes playfully at her blunt message. “bY ACCIDENT- IT HAPPENED BY ACCIDENT,,, guess he couldn’t keep himself away from this sexiness 😩” another blunt reply: “right.” smiling softly, you responded: “thanks for hyping me up bestie i really appreciate it <3 ok but maybe childe and i belong together??? is this a sign from the archons???” you stared waiting for her reply, however you were met with a read 8:45 pm. you’re lucky i love you bestie, leaving me on read during my crisis you whispered to yourself as you shouldered your bag once again to head home. at least you won’t be starving tomorrow on your commissions. 

as soon as you entered your house, your phone lit up. “wait. as in childe, eleventh of the fatui harbingers, also known as tartaglia, feared by many on the battle field, currently stationed in liyue, major pain in the ass, and is currently ignoring some of his paperwork???” - @cryogoddess. your eyebrows furrowed as you read her message, “yes that’s him but why do you sound so freaked out and how do you know sm abt him?” another notification: “i can’t believe you’ve been thirsting to me abt CHILDE.” you: “KDJKSFJ YOU DIDNT ANSWER MY QUESTION - also??? i thought i told you his name did i not??? 😀” her: “no??? wow this definitely is...interesting” you: “BESTIE ANSWER MY QUESTION DO YOU KNOW HIM???” her: “i’ve gotta go, work is calling.” 

you sighed in frustration as you tossed your phone on your bed. why was she so freaked out? you weren’t dumb, you knew there was something she wasn’t telling you but you trusted her enough to know she’ll let you know if it was important. you wondered as you pulled the covers over your head, if you’ll meet childe in your dreams and if you do, hopefully, in a less embarrassing scenario. 

the next morning, you awoke to a barrage of texts from none other than @cryogoddess. they were all along the lines of you should go to bubu pharmacy and stock up on medication this evening (i heard they’re having a sale). you responded back with a maybe, if you had time today after your commissions and if xiangling didn’t stop by with some food. however, your mutual made you promise you would visit in the evening, even if it’s just for a few minutes. you gave in because a) you never could say no and b) she made it sound like it was urgent so maybe she was obsessed with medicine? hmmm you would have to figure out where she lived so you could send some to her. 

you walked toward bubu pharmacy while tiredly sheathing your weapon, loosely taking in your surroundings. kids playing near the pond, teenagers chatting at the steps, adults keeping a watchful eye over their kids while laughing about the day’s events. your eyes studied the sign outside of bubu pharmacy. sale? what sale? there doesn’t seem to be anything regarding a sale?

“y/n?” a mildly familiar voice called your name. you whipped around looking for whoever uttered those words before your eyes fell on none other than one blue eyed harbinger. he was holding a few silk flowers in his hand as he stared at you with a sheepish smile. 

“hi” you stuttered out. your mind was blank, what was happening? 

“oh sorry, these are for you. i don’t mean to make you uncomfortable but i heard that you might be interested in me? you caught my eye at the stall yesterday, so i was wondering if you would want to grab lunch from the third-round knockout and then go watch the sunset at mt. tianheng? there’s this really cool trick i can do with my hydro vision where i can make the sunlight dance across the waypoint.” 

you stared at him as you wordlessly took the silk flowers from his hands. the golden light of the setting sun cast his face in a beautiful sheen, softly showing off the gentle blush on his cheeks and the brilliant blue of his eyes. his auburn hair seemed to grow alive at the touch of the fiery light and all you could do was stare. 

childe’s confidence seemed to wane with every passing second that you gazed at him, open mouthed, so he decided to save himself the embarrassment before hesitantly opening his own mouth. 

“yes, i would love to” you quickly said. you smiled gently up at him. 

“i would love to watch the sunset with you” 

you felt your cheeks burning up as you looked at him with soft eyes. when he returned your expression with a dazzling smile of your own, you could feel yourself relax. yes, your heart rate was off the chart right now, but you were content. the sunset, childe, and the silk flowers was something you never knew you needed, but were glad you got. you had enough time later to worry about the oncoming mortification of how he found out you liked him. 

a single notification appeared in your phone as the two of you walked laughing towards the mountain. 

“you’re welcome <3″

BONUS: 

“i know i’m too sexy for you to not fall in love with me” childe sighed dramatically as he leaned against you for support as the two of you went up the stairs. 

you promptly rolled your eyes and pushed him down the steps as you walked ahead with his protests falling on deaf ears. 

[visit-ba-sing-se]

My contribution to the “what happened to Kuzon?” question, I guess. No canon, just me making myself cry. Kuzon was old. He knew that, and with every move he made his body reminded him. Still, he was crouching over to clean the dust from a statue. The monk that it resembled had his eyes closed and seemed to be mediating, blissfully unaware off the world around him. Kuzon sighed. What would he give to just trade spots with him. Once more, he was not sure if he was supposed to find it rather funny or tragic that this small shed, in a small village between somewhere and nowhere, was where his life had led him. His parents had been a merchants. But not the kind of merchant you would meet on the city market and who'd sell you cabbage or fish. The kind of merchant that travelled to Ba Sing Se or Omashu and returned with ancient relicts that they'd sell some fire nation nobleman. Or the other way around, trade spices that would be used to for the spicy pickled kelp severed to earth kingdom royals. And Kuzon had been accompanying them for as long as he could remember, and a lot of it, he had loved. Counting heavy coins while sitting on his father lap, helping his mother chose between different colored pieces of cloth to buy and sell again for more, crossing items from a list before he even could read the words. And of course, he had met two of his best friends on their journeys. Bumi and Aang. And he had believed that that would be how things would stay, and that one day, he would grow up to be a merchant as well. Of course, in his mind he then imagines being the greatest merchant there ever was, who would have dinner with the king of Omashu and make his parents proud. And of course, that dream shattered as childrens dreams do.  One conversation it had taken to tear his world apart. One conversation that he had listend to from the closet in their living room. Kuzon had used to hide when his parents welcomed wealthy clients, as they had never wanted him around then. Today, he still remembered that one trade as if it had been yesterday, not a century ago.

“You know, the prices for those artifacts are going to increase rapidly soon,” his mother had said, her you find my price to high but there is nothing you can do about that voice as he called it. “It is not like new once will enter the market. And I even heard that the government is striating to seize and destroy those that are currently one it.” Kuzon was angry at himself for not taking a peak at what she was selling earlier. Now they were standing with their backs to him and the view was blocked. “Even if you are right, which is not unlikely”, that buyer, a fire nation noble, had responded,  “don't feel any bad at all profiting from that?” His mother had snapped back directly “Oh, don't strike that chord with me. You want to invest. I have an investment to offer. Nothing more, nothing less. This little intermission won't fool any of us, and you know it.” “Fine.” The nobleman than had sighed, as Kuzon had moved his head slightly, desperatly trying to get a glimpse of what had being sold.  “A pity they had to kill all of them.” “They just made the best fruit pies. And they were so fun at parties.” None of this had made sense to Kuzon. Not until he finally had seen what the noble man had just bought. An air glider. Like the one Aang had had. And with that, it had hit him. Fruit pie. Air glider. Aang. Killed. Kuzon had not left that closet until finally, after he had missed lunch and dinner in there his father had discovered him and ordered to go to bed. Of course, looking back, it was childish. But In that moment, he truly had thought that as long as he stayed in the closet, the reality would stay out. The reality in which Aang, his best friend Aang, the funny, caring and genius Aang, Aang who he had spent some go the happiest days of his life with, was dead. And his parents were selling air gliders for profit.  But of course, the reality was there, and it did not care if Kuzo accepted it or not.  He was just 12, and one might say that a kid that age would not understand so much anyway. But Kuzon felt like in fact, he was the only one who did. The only one who saw all the places in which the air nomads were missing. The only one who saw how fearful the merchants from the earth kingdom that used to be good friends of their family now looked. The only one who did no pretend that their firelord was nothing else but a liar and murderer.  All of that had made him wanting to yell. Or cry, Or both. But his parents had taught him not to do so very soon very well and so he did neither.  But he wrote it down. He started with everything Aang had told him about his people, and what he could remember from the times he had visited. He continued with everything that happened then. When his father got drafted for the war. When they started having to say this weird pledge in school. When the man with the serious face brought the letter that made his mother cry. When they had to leave their big house in the capital and move back to his grandparents into a smaller house in a small village. And how despite all of this, the first thing his mom did in her new, small room was to hang up picture of Sozin so that he could stare down from there as well. He wrote down how after that picture changed from Sozin to Azulon, he applied to university to avoid getting drafted himself. The thought of that made him chuckle now. How smart he had found himself to be. Only too find out that at university they may did not teach him how to kill someone with a sword. But to kill his mind with some words. Of course, he had written that down as well. Just as he wrote down the rumors of the deserted admiral, and the drinking songs the other students were singing about bravery and burned towns. Finally, he got into one last fight with his anthropology professor that got him kicked out of university and close to being arrested. After more or less fleeing town, he cut his hair, hid in a few more closets and stole the passport of a poor lad named Lee. Like that, he escaped his military service scrubbing floors, serving tea and unloading ships on docks. He spent some nights in prisons as well, after fights he had picked at night and after assaulting governmental officials. For jokes about Azulon that he alone had found funny. As the result of trying to convince people that attacking Ba Sing Se would not be right. But no one wanted to be convinced, so once more, all he could do was write down what he observed. The cheering masses and tea sipping towns people just as the polluted rivers and starving fisherman. The children playing war in the streets, already so eager to kill and die for honor and glory just as the factory workers with dark circles under their eyes. He hated to admit it now, but during that time, he had been giving close to giving up more than once. He woke up in the morning not knowing which town he was in, nor how he would pay for dinner there in the evening. He had given up his home, his studies, his name. All because he had not been wanting give up on Aang. He could not betray his friend. When he was not able to fight all of them and stop the war, the least he could do was not to become one of them and instead bear witness for future generations to come. But is just got harder and harder each day, and more and more times he scolded himself for being just stubborn and stupid. His friend was dead. The Dragon of the West was at the walls of Ba Sing Se. And everyone just loved Azulon. What difference would it make if he joined them in? Or if he just stopped trying completely? What saved him was a small clay figure of a sky bison. A woman sold it on the market in a town which's name he did not even know. What he knew, however, was that these kinds of toys were only made by air nomads. And that that woman clearly had no idea how much the piece she was offering here was worth. He bought it without thinking twice. And that was how he finally became a merchant. Trading goods became his explanation for traveling up and down the country, searching for traces and hints, gathering artifacts that one way or another that found their way into the hands of people who had no idea what they were holding. Of course, he had to start small. Very small. But he had learned from the best there were. And he had a goal. “Maybe I am naive to think that one day, the war will be over and the firelord defeated. That one day we can speak freely again and that people will come and learn about the airnomads.”, he wrote down during this time, but when that day comes, they need to have something to learn from. After many years, when Ozai already replaced Azulon, Kuzon settled in a small village, where he lived in a small hut with an even smaller shed in which he kept the artifacts hidden. People quickly started avoiding him as the weird old man who in any other place would have already been arrested but here just served as village idiot. He continued writing, but news travelled slow and when they arrived were usually not reliable at all. Because of that, he nearly did not dare to write the first hopeful line after what seemed to be an eternity. Word has it that the Avatar has returned.

And then after another year, despite all odds and just like that, the war suddenly was over. At least so he heard. And noted that the war was over. And then finally, he put the pen down. Everything suddenly had changed. Yet still, it remained the same.

Kuzon was still alone in his hut and with his books, and still no one seemed to care. He had a testamony to make, but no one wanted to listen. They all just wanted to forget so fast.  And he was a disturbance, since they knew that he remembered.  There were rumors that the new firelord, Zuko, 16 and like that himself half a child, wanted to change things and own up the crimes that were committed. Some people pretended to support that. Others openly complained. Kuzon just would like to believe it was true. But he just had stopped trusting in firelords a long time ago.

Still, he tried his best to maintain the artifacts in good shape, but he was old. He had no family. No friends. And the thought that they would remain hidden here after his death, abdomend and forgotten, broke what was still left of his heart.  But here he was, and here they were. Alone. Suddenly, when Kuzon could already feel his eyes filling with tears, he was interrupted by a voice. A very familiar voice.

“Somebody here?”, it asked.  Kuzon was sure that it was only in his mind, brought back by all the memories. Still, while scolding himself for being a stupid old man, he slowly turned around, expecting to see nothing except for the wall of his shed. But his mind had not tricked him. There he stood, smiling that familiar smile that Kuzon never would have thought he would see again. Aang. And Kuzon cried.

[hanoella]

Affettuoso- With Feeling (Part 3)

Pairing: Bucky x Pianist!Reader

Set after the events of TFATWS: In an effort to start over and make a home in Louisiana, Bucky meets a friend of Sam’s who ends up being his landlord. With only a driveway to separate them, he finds that he’s not the only one looking for a fresh start.

Series tags/warnings: Slow Burn, Eventual Bucky x Reader, Mentions of Domestic Abuse, Canon Level Violence

Part 3 Word Count: 3k

A/N: Can you tell I don't really have a posting schedule? lol. I also introduced links to the specific pieces I had in mind. I'm using soundcloud because I don't think everyone has access to spotify. Trying to be reader friendly! This can be read with or without the audio, as I do my best to still convey the thought in the fic. Though if you can, I highly recommend :)

Thanks again for all your support! Every heart and comment motivates me and is just so wonderful

Read Part 1; Masterlist

---

A few days had passed since the night that Bucky had overheard your troubles. It had been quiet since, and you hadn’t left the house. The curtains were opened during the day and closed at night, the only telltale signs that you existed.

Doesn’t she have to work? Bucky thought to himself. He speculated all the different possibilities as he used the riding mower around the property. Maybe you were an heiress? You seemed pretty down to earth though. Or maybe you sold a patented idea for a ton of money. All this land had to have been expensive. And to not request actual money from him?

He eyed up the width of the gate for your fence. The riding mower couldn’t fit so he would have to use a push mower for your fenced off yard. He hadn’t seen one in the garage. Maybe the old shed at the back of your yard had one? Bucky parked the mower in the garage, taking a moment to make a mental list of everything. Depending on if he found anything in the shed, he might need to buy a few basic tools and a chainsaw for that fallen tree.

He walked out of the garage and over to the shed. The leaves were changing color and it brought a whole new atmosphere to the secluded forest area. Opening the gate of the weathered white fence, he looked around to see if you were out. No signs of life. Entering the yard and closing the gate behind him, he started walking to the back. Halfway through, he stopped at the fire pit. The grey stone blocks were starting to crumble, with a few of the bricks having fallen off. It would probably be really nice if he got a little bit of cement mix and filled in the gaps. Bucky made another mental note.

The shed had no padlock so he was able to open it with no problem. Amongst the cobwebs and bags of soil, was an older green push mower that looked like it might work. He gave the gas a pull and got no response back. Looking underneath, Bucky saw what might be the problem. He’d have to take a closer look later. Putting the lawn mower back onto its wheels, he pushed it across the yard, pausing when he saw movement though the glass doors of the back patio.

Craning his neck to avoid the glare, he saw you sitting at your fancy full keyboard. The way the piano was against the opposite wall, your back was to him. You had big over-ear headphones plugged into it, so he couldn’t hear the sound but he saw the flurry of keys being pressed down. Whatever you were playing, you played passionately. Hands and arms gracefully moved despite the speed at which they were moving. Enhanced hearing coming into play, he heard the muffled clicks of the fluttering keys. Suddenly, you pressed down forcefully, holding whatever chord you had struck as your shoulders gently relaxed. A deep breath. Arm creating a graceful arc as if you had studied ballet, you pressed gently on another chord. And another. Bucky counted three more times you did this before you let your hands gently fall from the keys to your lap. Several moments passed before slid the headphones off of your ears to sit wrapped around your neck. Another deep breath. This time as the breath escaped you, you stayed slouched, head tilting up to stare at nothing on the wall.

A buzz broke Bucky from his trance.

“Call me, new mission” The text from Sam on his home screen said.

He pocketed his phone, glancing through the glass one more time. There you still sat.

Unmoving.

---

The roar of the plane’s engine was just loud enough to drown out Bucky’s thoughts without being annoying. If it weren’t for the adrenaline of the recovery mission under the cover of nightfall, he probably would’ve been lulled to sleep. Beside him sat Sam, looking on his phone for the exact coordinates of the politician they had been sent to rescue.

“Here it is. I’m assuming there’s some sort of underground base since there are no heat signatures anywhere within the radius where he was taken. It should take us about ten more minutes before we’re directly over it.”

Bucky hummed in acknowledgement.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Earth to Bucky.”

“What does your friend do?” Bucky asked suddenly, sitting up straighter and turning towards him.

“… What?”

“What does she do? I’ve never seen her leave the house. Is she okay?”

“If you’re asking why she doesn’t leave the house, it’s because her contract doesn’t start for a while. She’s technically still supposed to be in physical therapy but she hasn’t found a place yet. You know, your whole routine gets messed up when you move.”

“For her shoulder?”

Now it was Sam’s turn to look at Bucky, trying to decipher the motive behind these questions. Bucky shifted his weight in the chair, antsy under the scrutiny.

“Never mind, I-”

“Yes, for her shoulder.” Sam said, cutting him off. He stopped himself from asking why Bucky wanted to know. There was an awkward pause before Bucky explained himself.

“I just wanted to know. I’m not used to seeing people so…”

“Similar to yourself?”

“I was gonna say isolated but fair point.” Bucky admitted. Sam leaned back in his chair, looking straight forward.

“She’s been through a lot… I know you heard some of it.”

Bucky blinked in surprise.

“I realized the window was open when I could hear you drive off.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s alright, it’s good that you know.” Sam said as he held up his hand to cut Bucky off.

“She’s just trying to get a fresh start. She’s in a raw emotional space and in the meantime is a little skittish. Just like someone else I know.” Sam jabbed his elbow into Bucky’s side as he enunciated the last sentence.

“Okay, okay, I get it. I’m trying!” He shouted as he held one hand up defensively and using the other to block the second jab Sam was trying to get in. Sam chuckled and then stood up, grabbing a parachute pack and tossing it at Bucky, who caught it without even looking.

“Figured you might wanna try an actual chute this time.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and mouthed Sam’s words mockingly with a grimace as he put the backpack on. Clipping it into place, he joined Sam at the side door of the plane.

“She used to play in an orchestra you know.” Sam said wistfully. “The piano. That’s actually how we met. She had volunteered to play a small concert before the dinner. It really helped raise a lot of money for the VA.”

Bucky stayed silent, prompting him to continue.

“Then that bastard she was engaged to beat her and then shoved her down a set of concrete steps when she tried to leave him. It was like a month after we all came back. She was in the hospital for a while. Broken ribs, broken shoulder, and a nasty concussion to boot. Neighbor saw the whole thing and called the cops but the courts were so backed up and the case fell through the cracks. Wouldn’t leave her alone after he got out. So, I pulled some strings and helped her move down here on the fly.”

“… That’s terrible.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say or how to react. They stood in silence, taking a moment to pay a respect of sorts to the trials you have been through. Then Sam broke the silence.

“She just needs time to heal in more ways than one. But she’s strong. Resilient.”

Putting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, he squeezed it lightly with reassurance.

“Reminds me of someone else I know.” Sam said, finishing the conversation and pulling his goggles over his eyes, giving Bucky the opportunity to take the compliment without feeling too on the spot.

Pulling the door open, Sam shouted over the wind.

“Ready?”

Bucky nodded. Sam jumped from the plane and deployed the wings, the shield shining in the moonlight. Bucky jumped right behind him, using the glint of the silver star to guide his descent as he followed the man that gave the shield its meaning.

---

You laid with your head down on the kitchen table, letting the last golden rays of sun warm the side of your face. You were exhausted from going to physical therapy, especially since today had been the first appointment. All the measurements, all the exercises, all the stretching.

All the questions.

“So, how did you break your shoulder?” the young blonde physical therapist asked.

“Ah, I… fell down some stairs.” You said, looking down at your hands in your lap.

She didn’t look up from the papers, instead just raising an eyebrow.

“You also cracked some ribs and had a concussion?”

“… They were concrete.”

She looked up from the papers at you, analyzing. Her gaze softened and she asked no further questions on how these serious injuries had been obtained.

“Let’s look at your range of motion.”

You had practically stumbled into the house, kicking off your sneakers and plopping down at the kitchen table. Minutes passed by as you regained your breath, heartbeat steadying. The house was slightly cold since you had turned the heat down this morning. As your sweat cooled, you wrapped your arms around your legs in an attempt to keep you warm without getting up.

The sun feels so warm… You thought to yourself drowsily, feeling slightly less lonely. The sun was a cheap substitute for the warmth of a partner…

---

You jolted upright, the kitchen dark and cold. Neck and shoulder stiff from the awkward position you had dozed off in. Feeling the dryness of your mouth, you got up, stretching your neck gently while you walked to the fridge to get water. Chugging about half the bottle, you squinted at the clock. You had been asleep for about forty-five minutes. Groaning, you put the bottle down on the counter and walked into the living room to close the curtains. Grabbing one in each hand, you went to pull them together when you hesitated, noticing that Bucky’s apartment was dark for the third day in a row. The sleek motorbike that was usually parked under the slight overhang of the garage was missing as well.

He was probably on a mission, right? Not that it was any of your business. You shut the curtains and turned off the lights before lightly padded down the hall, stopping to adjust the thermostat. The heat kicked on, sending a puff of cold air your way. You shivered as you walked with a quickened pace to your room, shutting the door and heading into the master bathroom, turning the hot water on with just a tad of cold.

Waiting for the shower to warm up, you leaned over the sink and looked into the mirror. Dark circles under your eyes. Small scar on the bridge of your nose. Running your hand through the roots of your hair, you felt for the scar where the stitches had been. When was the last time you had a haircut? Or put on some makeup?

Some higher being must’ve felt pity for you since the steam from the shower fogged the glass, preventing you from tearing yourself apart any further. Stepping underneath the warm stream, you let the warmth seep into your muscles, then bones, filling every fracture and break with a temporary sense of wholeness until the emptiness of your heart and home caused it slowly to drip out until it, along with you, was gone.

---

The next morning, you weren’t motivated to do anything. You lounged around the house, sipping on coffee and browsing on your phone for furniture, clothes, even sneaking a peak at some pianos. Wanting to invest in one you’d use for the next several decades, you had put off buying one until the money from your contract with the orchestra started in a month. You were still well off, nowhere near struggling and probably wouldn’t ever be unless you decided to buy a mansion (which was a no). You just wanted to be careful.

In the afternoon, you popped a pain killer and muscle relaxer in preparation for the few hours you wanted to practice. Thirty minutes went by and the ever-present ache in your shoulder calmed enough to let you practice with relative peace. Sitting on the bench in front of the keyboard, you pondered what you might play to warm up.

Hmm, maybe a Chopin prelude? Short, emotional, familiar.

Your left hand held the soft deep chords as your right hand softly flitted around the higher notes. Breathing in and out with the music, you tried to ignore the ache that start to surround your shoulder.

Playing the last few notes, you paused before reaching over to the bottle of painkillers.

---

Shortly after finishing up, you dragged a small table outside next to the wooden bench swing that was hanging on the porch. Bundled up in a soft sweatshirt, long-sleeve shirt, wool lined leggings, fuzzy socks and slippers, you brought out your hot tea, several blankets, a pillow, and a book you had been meaning to read for months. You were determined to do something besides practice, watch TV, and scroll on your phone.

You settled onto the bench, wrapping the blanket around you, nice and toasty from the layers trapping in the heat of a thorough practice session. The extra medication had really helped keep the pain at bay. Tentatively sipping the steaming cup, you closed your eyes to further appreciate the sweet tones of peach and honey. Setting the cup in your lap with one hand, you used your other hand to flip open to the first page.

---

Bucky hadn’t expected the mission to get so complicated. Finding the base was one thing, navigating in and out of the expansive maze was another. It took a few days to successfully get the target out and back to the embassy. He hadn’t properly slept during that time due to taking shifts with Sam. Not that it was any different from how he slept at home.

The sun was letting its last few rays bless the earth when he turned onto the driveway. Taking it easy on the gravel, he eased his posture and slowed the bike. He put pressure on the brakes as he made it past the final wall of trees that hid the water that was reflecting the last bit of color left in the sky. Rolling casually into a stop, he parked and let out a deep breath, shoulders sinking.

A stray bird calling out turned his attention in the direction of your house. The porch light was on. That’s new, he thought. Squinting his eyes, he saw a bundle on the porch swing. Was that you? Quietly walking over while taking his leather gloves off, he confirmed his suspicions. There you were, lying on your side propped up by a large fuzzy pillow. Eyes closed and breathing rhythmically. Scanning the scene, he noticed the mug on the side table, empty except for the used teabag. Your book was closed, the page you were on marked by one of your fingers. You must’ve fallen asleep while reading.

“Hey…” Bucky said gently. No response besides a small nose scrunch.

He repeated himself a little louder, squatting to be at eye level while gently setting his hand on your arm and shaking you lightly. You groaned this time, eyes fluttering open, taking a moment to focus. You squinted and pushed yourself up into a sitting position, losing your place in the book and attempting to blink the heavy drowsiness from your eyes.

“Bucky?” You questioned hoarsely as you met his eyes. He was still crouching so you were looking slightly down at him. Brow furrowed, you searched the blue of his eyes before looking around to see how dark it had gotten. As you turned your head back to him, he stood back up, scratching the back of his neck just to occupy his hands.

“It’s starting to get cold. I didn’t want you to spend the rest of the night out here.” He explained, choosing to look out at the water, now dark. When he turned his head back, you had also turned your head to look at the water, exposing the side of your neck, the tendons and clavicle accentuated by the strain. Bucky swallowed and your eyes met his, oblivious.

“Ah, thank you. I must’ve fallen asleep reading. I just started going back to physical therapy so I’ve just been so wiped… Anyway,” you said, dismissing yourself mid-thought. He didn’t want to hear about all that. “…did you just come back from a mission?” You eyed the diagonal cuts of leather on his jacket, noting the missing sleeve that exposed the glint of the metal.

“Yeah. I was gone for a few days.”

“Okay. I’m glad you’re home safe.” You mindlessly said, picking up the book and other various items strewn about.

Home safe. What an unfamiliar phrase.

As the words echoed in his mind, you had opened the door and stepped in, turning your head slightly to look back at him.

“Thanks again… Good night.”

“Good night.” Bucky replied, watching as you shut the door softly behind you.

Slowly walking down the porch steps, he crossed the driveway to the garage. Turning his head just in time to see the last light turn off in your house, he stood with his hand on the knob, meditating on the effect that one short sentence had on him.

Glad you’re home safe. Was this what it was like when you had someone waiting on you at home? The tired eyes and gentle smile. Would that be what it was like when he came home in the middle of a night from a mission when he had someone to share a bed with? Gently shaking them to let them know he was home? Or would he try to sneak into bed without waking them? He tried to imagine what that sort of intimacy would be like as he entered his apartment and then his room. Unzipping his jacket and tossing it over a chair, he stripped down to his boxer briefs and climbed into bed, wondering what it would be like if it was already warm.

[lynnsfics]

Feisty

Pairing: Racetrack Higgins x Reader

Request: “race or spot x feisty reader/oc + prompt #84 (sarcasm) from list 2 could be really fun! if it's not a bother, tysm 🖤”

Prompt: “I can’t date him! He hates sarcasm! That’s like my second language!”

Word Count: Approx. 1.7k

~~~

“Wait up,” Race called as you ran down the steps of the newsies boarding house. Although you felt bad, you didn’t stop. You had barely had time to get dressed before you heard the morning bell. The papes were already being sold and you had just left the house. Race being late was his own problem, not yours. 

As you finally reached the distribution center for the papers you sighed with relief. Fortunately for you, they hadn’t completely sold out. However, that meant the headline wasn’t an easy seller, so you’d be in for a long day. Race caught up with you at the selling window. 

“Hey, why didn’t’ya wait up?” he asked. 

“Because it’d be great if we were both late,” you said, rolling your eyes.

He looked confused for a moment and then sighed with exasperation. “Oh, youse is bein’ sarcastic again. You know I hate when you do that.”

“Sorry Race,” you laughed. “But you know I can’t be late. ‘M already almost behind on my payments for the lodging.” 

Race nodded in understanding. It was the same story for a lot of newsies, not being able to scrape together the money for lodging and then being out on the streets. “Why don’t we’s sell together today? I already has enough for my rent this month, so you can take some of my extra papes.” 

You didn’t want to accept help from anybody, least of all Race. Part of you was worried he would resent you if you held him back, and for some reason that terrified you. “Are ya’ sure? I’ll be fine on my own as always, really.”

He shook his head, “Just because youse is ‘fine’ doesn’t mean that you should have to be all alone.” 

Looking down, you nodded in appreciation. “Thank you, Race.” You prayed to whoever was listening that he didn’t notice the blush spreading across your cheeks. “We’d best buy some papes and start selling then, huh?”

You handed your money to Weasel, who was standing at the window counting the day’s profit. “I’ll take 50 papes, as usual.” 

“Are you sure you can sell that many?” Oscar Delancey taunted. “It’s not a great headline, and you ain’t exactly the top seller anyways.”

Race shot him a glare but you already had a scathing response prepared.  “Oscar, I know it’s difficult for youse to understand, but sales ain’t based wholly on the headline. Stunning good looks also factor in, which must explain why you and your brother never made it as newsies.”

“You’d better watch it,” Oscar threatened, balling his hand into a fist. He narrowed his eyes and you could tell he was getting irritated. 

As soon as Race bought his papers you were off. Although you weren’t opposed to punching a Delancey, you would hate to get all mussed up. After all, you had to at least look a little bit respectable, that way you could sell in the wealthier areas without attracting any trouble. 

You turned to Race with a grin, “So, where to first?”

He shook his head, “Youse is gonna get in trouble for talking back one of these days, you’re too feisty for your own good. But I found a great selling spot in upper Manhattan. People there give great tips too.” 

“Perfect,” you said with a light laugh. “And I thinks I can take care of myself, thank you very much. Those Delanceys won’t even know what hit ‘em.”

Race simply rolled his eyes in response. “I certainly hope so,” he laughed. “Let’s head out before everyone in this city already has a pape.”

It was a fairly quick walk, but the brisk morning air made it seem longer than it was. Race looked over at you, noting that you had been strangely silent for most of the trip. When he saw you silently shivering he smiled to himself. Of course you were too proud to even mention it. 

“Are you alright?” he asked. He already knew what your answer would be, but he decided to ask anyway. At least then it would seem like he hadn’t already made up his mind on what he was about to do.

Just like he predicted, you answered with a simple, “Yes, why?” However a visible shiver passed over you as you answered, giving away your lie.

“Because you seem cold,” he said, trying his best to sound exasperated and not concerned. He knew if he seemed worried you’d refuse his offer, not wanting to seem weak. “Here, take my coat, I don’t need it.”

“Race, no,” you shook your head. “You do need it.”

“Not as much as you do,” he countered. Despite your protests he shrugged off his jacket and placed it around your shoulders. “Don’t even try to give it back ‘til we’s done selling.”

You sighed and nodded, “Fine.” To be honest, it really helped against the chill. Although you knew Race didn’t need it as much, it still pained you to take it from him. There was no way he would take it back, though. He could be as stubborn as you when he wanted to be. 

When you finally reached the neighborhood you breathed a sigh of relief. There were no other newsies in sight, which meant you were probably the first ones there. Or, you thought, the others had already sold everyone a paper and you wouldn’t make any sales. Hopefully it wasn’t the latter. 

Once you began calling out headlines, both real and slightly made-up, you realized your initial impression was correct. Your papers sold fairly quickly and you received a few nice tips too. The whole time you weren’t selling you spent talking to Race about anything and everything. 

Before you knew it the day was winding to a close and you had sold all your papes. Night was falling quickly and you had to hurry back to the lodging house. There was hardly any light on the streets and you became turned around. 

As you tried to navigate on the darkened street you realized you had become separated from Race. You called out to him, “Race? Where are you?” Someone grabbed your hand and you jumped. Your heartbeat calmed, however, when you saw it was just him. “Don’t sneak up on me like that,” you scolded, “I could’ve had a heart attack.”

“Sorry,” he said quickly. “I was jus’ worried ‘cause it’s easy to get lost here. Since I know the way I thought this’d be a safer way of heading back.” He motioned to his hand, still linked with yours. You nodded silently, thankful he wouldn’t notice your blush in the dark. 

The trip back to the lodging house seemed to drag on for eternity as your heart raced in your chest. While you had always considered Race a friend, you had secretly wondered if there was any chance of something more. After the day’s events you realized how much you wanted the chance to be real. 

When you finally returned to the lodging house you quickly said goodnight to Race before rushing to your room. On the way, however, you were stopped by Jack, who was looking at you confusedly. 

“Are you wearing Racetrack’s jacket?” he asked you. 

Shit. You had entirely forgotten to give it back in your haste to get to your room. “Oh, yeah, he lent it to me for sellin’ today. It was chilly so…” you trailed off, praying Jack wouldn’t ask anymore questions. While he had always been like an older brother to you that also meant he teased you like an older brother would. Which, unfortunately, included joking with you when he thought you liked someone.

Somehow Jack had figured out that you had a tiny crush on Race and was determined to set you two up, and tonight was no exception. “Well I didn’t know youse was sellin’ together,” he said with a smirk. 

You answered quickly, “It was just for today, no big deal.” 

“Well, if youse ever does get together don’t say I didn’t call it.”

Rolling your eyes, you began to grow defensive, “I can’t date him! He hates sarcasm! That’s like my second language!” Even as you said it you knew it was a bad excuse. 

Jack chuckled lightly, “Sounds like something someone makin’ up excuses would say.” Damn it, he knew you too well. “Maybe you should go give him his jacket back and, I dunno, talk to him a bit.”

He was right as always. There was no way you could keep living like this, you had to confront how you felt, which meant confessing to Race. “I think I will,” you said softly. “G’night Kelly.” 

You slowly made your way to the front of the lodging house. Somehow you knew Race hadn’t gone to bed yet. When you stepped out into the cold night air, you knew you were right. The faint smell of cigar smoke wafted up the steps from where Race was sitting. 

“Hey Race,” you said quietly. “I realized I never gave you your coat back and,” you shrugged, holding it out to him. 

He took it silently and you sat down next to him. “Thank you, by the way. For helping me sell my papes today, and for lending me your jacket and, everything, really.”

Race smiled, “Of course. It was nice having someone to sell with.” You could tell something was on his mind, he seemed distant. 

“I’m glad you came out here,” he said. “I wanted to talk to you about something. Lately I’ve been thinking, and well,” he paused before continuing, “what if we went out sometime? If you don’t want to that’s fine,” he said quickly, “but I was thinking we could go on a date or something.”

Before you could second-guess yourself you leaned and pressed your lips to his. Your heart was pounding in your chest and after a split-second he returned the kiss. His lips were surprisingly soft, and unsurprisingly, the kiss tasted of cigar smoke and something sweet that you couldn’t quite place. When you finally pulled away you were breathless.

He grinned, putting an arm around your waist, “So, is that a yes?”

You laughed as you rested your head on his shoulder, “It’s a yes.”

~~~

Requested By: anon

Why do my newsies fics always end up longer than I originally plan? Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist and as always likes and reblogs are appreciated! Love you all! <3

[keys-to-the-kinkdom]

i see medical/examination kink on your list 👀 maybe someone (take your pick) examining ciri? perhaps she's a sex slave they're getting ready to sell??? - 👽

Aiden was at the slave market under contract. Despite his reputation, he did tend to prefer his partners consenting, but a grieving widow had put out a contract on a slaver and Aiden had been too much of a bleeding heart to say no. Lambert was going to laugh himself sick when he heard. The problem he was having was that his target was back at the slave pens. The public weren't allowed access to the slave pens without being a buyer. Aiden didn't want to buy a slave, not even to kill one of the slavers. 

He was leaning against one of the pillars in the auction room, trying to look dangerous and unapproachable while he worked out how to fulfil his contract. He was barely paying attention to the stage, just enough to spot a threat if one was to emerge. A flash of white caught his eye. His first thought was that Geralt was here chasing the same or another contract. A closer look showed just how wrong he was. 

Ciri was standing, tall and regal in the middle of the stage. She was completely bare. Even with her cunt out and her nipples teased to stiff peaks, she radiated serene regality. Aiden adjusted himself subtly in his breeches. Like all the slaves, her hands were tied behind her with sturdy rope and there was a thick leather collar around her throat. The leash was held by the auctioneer. 

'Our next lot is a young woman, approximately twenty five years of age, healthy and strong. She would be suitable for any work, including manual labour and bedsport. She is not untouched. I'll start the bidding at 300 crowns,' the auctioneer called. 

Aiden’s hand was in the air before he had a chance to think. Ciri was a Wicher in all but mutations. She’d be able to help him fulfil the contract. He also owed it to the wolves to rescue their youngest from a situation that she probably didn’t want to be in (although she looked comfortable enough on the stage). Those were the reasons he’d have given if anyone had asked him what he was doing. The reality was though, that in that moment, he saw her and he wanted and he had the means to take. 

The bidding spiralled up from 300 to 500 to 700 and Aiden began to sweat. He’d had a good season on the Path, starting out with new gear from the caravan and picking up a few very lucrative contracts early on, but he wasn’t made of money. Not like some of these people were. Just as he really began to worry, Ciri bared her teeth and snarled at the greasy, portly man that was attempting to outbid Aiden. Her sharp teeth glinted in the light and the glare was as feral as anything Lambert could have produced. Aiden’s dick twitched in his smalls. His opposition on the other hand, shrank back, put off by the sight and he missed his chance to bid. 

‘Going once! Going twice! Sold to the man with the red hair!’ the auctioneer called. He handed Ciri’s leash off to an attendant and the next slave was dragged out. 

Aiden made his way through the administrative process as quickly as he possibly could. The attendant that led him back gave him an indulgent smile. 

‘She really is something to look at, that one, isn’t she?’ he said conspiratorially.

Aiden swallowed and nodded, ‘Yeah.’ His voice was raspy. ‘I can’t wait to find out what she’s like in bed. Seemed to have some fire in her.’

Of course, he knew Ciri’s fire well. The idea of it leashed under his control was doing things to him that he didn’t really want to admit to. He was learning a lot of things about himself very suddenly. 

The slave pens were in a large warehouse at the back of the auction building. There was an open space in the middle where the sold slaves were tied to hitching posts, waiting for their new owners. Aiden’s eyes snapped immediately to Ciri’s white blonde hair. He walked towards her like he was the one on the leash. 

When he reached her, a lean, rat-faced man stepped forward and took the token that provided proof of sale. 

‘Watch for this one,’ he sneered, ‘she’s a feral little thing.’

He reached out to tweak a nipple but froze when Aiden clamped a hand around his wrist.

‘She’s mine,’ he hissed, ‘and you will not touch her.’

‘Quite right, Sir,’ the man said with an oily smirk, stepping back. ‘Will you inspect the goods before you leave?’

Aiden had heard of the practice, of course. As a Wicher it was impossible to not be introduced to the seedier sides of life. As a Cat Witcher who was less picky about his contracts than schools like the Griffins or the Wolves, it was expected that he’d have contacts in the underbelly of society. As such, he knew what he needed to do here. He knew he should feel reluctant, but all he felt was desperate. He wanted to get his hands on that pale, creamy flesh and show her who she belonged to. 

‘Yes, I’ll inspect her,’ he said, stepping forward.

They were nose to nose now. He could feel her little puffs of breath hitting his chin. Her warmth was intoxicating. He leaned closer, placing his lips by her ear.

‘Hello there, little pup,’ he whispered. 

She shivered, very lightly, but enough that he noticed. 

He stood back and looked her over. 

‘Good. She knows to hold position at least,’ he said, eyes flicking to the slaver.

He reached out and tilted her chin up. Her skin was soft and warm. It wasn’t the first time they’d touched. He’d helped train her after all and spent several winters in the wolves’ keep with her where they all wrestled and sparred. This deliberate touching of her naked skin was different though. Electricity sparked along his fingertips which felt like they suddenly had a direct line to his cock. 

‘Where did you get her?’ Aiden asked. 

As he waited for an answer, he lifted first one eyelid and then the other. Her eyes were clear and bright and she didn’t waver under his hands. He burned with the trust it implied. He ran his fingers down over her cheeks, stroking her hair back from her face and coming to rest cupping her jaw. She blinked once, slowly. 

‘Found her running around in Ebbing, asking questions she shouldn’t have been. Didn’t take much to shut her up,’ the slimy arsehole crowed. Aiden longed to silence him. Permanently. 

He focused on Ciri. Her light, sweet scent filled his nostrils and calmed him. He was where he needed to be to fulfil the contract. He swore to himself there and then that he would kill this odious man before he left. How dare he think he had the right to touch Aiden’s Ciri? She deserved better than his disgusting hands on her sweet, perfect body. 

He lifted her top lip and slid one finger in, running it around her teeth. They were all in place with no cracks or other damage. He breathed a little easier. Ciri didn’t have the same mutated ability to grow new teeth if her original ones were damaged. Her training had focused a lot on protecting her face. He pulled his finger back and hooked it across her bottom teeth, pulling her mouth open. She allowed it and he swallowed hard at the sight of her little pink tongue, sitting there so innocently. He imagined it licking at his cock. He slid two fingers in, as deep as he could. She breathed deeply around them but didn’t otherwise react and Aiden felt himself beginning to leak. Her mouth was warm and soft and he wanted nothing more than to push her to her knees and sink his cock in. He couldn’t though. He had to keep his cover. He had to hope that Ciri knew what he was doing and that she wouldn’t hate him afterwards. 

He pulled his fingers out and dragged them down her throat, spreading the wetness and making it glisten. As he trailed over the collar he felt her breath hitch and he paused to tug on it a little. Her scent deepened, ripening with arousal. He tugged harder and she whined. He considered teasing her some more, but resisted, instead moving to slip his hands down her arms, checking her muscle definition. He tested the rope around her wrists and subtly loosened it enough that she could slip out if she needed to. He desperately hoped she’d stay where she was, but at least she now had the ability to leave if she wished. The leash was looped around the pillar but it wasn’t tied. A good pull would have it free in seconds. 

His fingers skimmed from her wrists over her ribs where he frowned over how clear it was that she hadn’t been eating enough. She blinked at him again and relaxed into his hands. 

‘Did you not bother feeding her?’ he asked, venom dripping from his voice.

‘She’s alive, ain’t she? She ate enough.’

‘I prefer my partners to feel less like I may break them the first time I throw them down to fuck them properly,’ Aiden spat. 

Ciri’s moan was almost certainly too quiet for anyone else to hear. It was barely audible to Aiden’s Witcher enhanced ears, but it was audible. He smirked at her. He could see a muscle jumping in her thigh where she was clenching her legs. He preened at the knowledge that she was turned on by him. 

From her ribs, he slid his hands up and cupped her breasts. He paused with his thumbs hovering over her nipples, which were still taught and peaked in the slightly chill air of the room. 

‘Are you sensitive?’ he asked her, his voice dripping like dark honey between them. He should be kind to her, but there was a beast inside him, rising up and screaming for her ruin. 

‘Yes,’ she whispered. 

‘Yes?’ he asked, giving in all at once to his basest instincts, ‘Yes what?’

‘Yes, Sir, I’m sensitive,’ she replied, louder now and more confident with something to push back against. 

‘Hmm.’

He pinched them, quick and hard and she arched back and wailed. Each breast was barely a handful, but they were soft and round and tight. Her nipples were small and he applied himself to teasing them, alternating sharp pinches and light brushes in an unpredictable pattern. He could see her struggling to stay still, wanting more. Her back was bowed into an arch as she pressed forward into his hands. He thumbed over both nipples, gave them a sudden hard twist then let go entirely. Her voice rose in a reedy wail. 

‘You are sensitive,’ he purred, ‘Does that apply to everywhere, I wonder.’ She opened her mouth to answer him, but he interrupted her. ‘You only need to speak when ordered to. Otherwise, keep your mouth shut unless you’re moaning on my fingers.’

She closed her mouth and nodded. He pulled the leash rope free from the low railing it was attached to and tugged her forward. She fell into him, off balance. He used the opportunity to grab a handful of her tight little ass which she wiggled. He pressed his hand between her legs and found that she was soaking. Slick dripped freely from between her folds and she moaned as soon as he touched her. 

‘Eager little thing, aren’t you,’ he murmured. ‘So wet for me. You’re going to make such a good slut.’

He spun her around and pressed one hand to her hip and the other between her shoulders.

‘Bend over and put your hands on the rail,’ he ordered. 

As soon as she complied, he kicked her feet wider, exposing her most intimate places to his view. She was flushed red and dripping. The scent of her arousal wound around him and intoxicated him. He had to have her. He wound the leash around his fist and pulled it, forcing her head up and her back to arch so that she was presenting to him. 

‘I’m going to touch you now and you’re going to come on my fingers like the greedy little slut that you are,’ he told her. ‘If you’re good, I’ll give you my cock, but you have to earn it. I want to hear you scream, do you understand?’

‘Yes, Sir,’ she whimpered.

‘Good girl.’

His finger circled her clit and she whined. He laughed, low and a little cruel. It wasn’t going to be that easy. 

‘Have you ever been fucked before, little slut?’ he asked her.

‘Yes, Sir,’ she replied, gasping for breath as he pushed two fingers into her without pause. He wanted to wreck her. He wanted to own her, to possess her so utterly that she would never look at another man again. The intensity of his own feelings overwhelmed him and he pushed another finger in, leaning forward. His hard cock pressed against her arse and he thrust, groaning at the friction. He leaned forward, draped half across her back so that he could hiss into her ear.

‘Look at you,’ he growled, as deep and resonant as any Wolf, ‘You were made for this. You were made to be my little slut.’ He dropped his voice to a quiet rumble so that no one but her would hear. ‘What would Geralt think if he could see you like this?’ he asked. ‘His precious daughter spread out on my fingers, whimpering for more. What would your Uncles say? Do you think they’d be disgusted to know that you’re nothing but a little slut? Or do you think they’d want a turn?’

Ciri gasped and moaned at that, slick leaking out around Aiden’s fingers to drip onto the ground. He pushed the fourth in and reached down with his thumb, circling her clit with a lazy, light pressure that did nothing more than frustrate. 

‘Oh, you like that idea, do you? You like the idea of your father and your uncles lining up behind me, ready to take their turn with my precious little slut? Is that what you want? I can make that happen,’ he growled twisting his fingers and pressing down with his thumb at the same time.

Ciri came apart with a wail, loud enough to turn heads in their direction. Aiden preened, knowing that everyone could see how good his little slave was. She shook apart under him, cunt clenching and fluttering around his fingers. He hooked them forward and pulled, twisting and pressing as she came. Slick gushed out, running down her thighs and soaking his hand. He purred at the feeling. 

‘What a good little slut,’ he whispered. ‘So good for me.’

‘Thank you, Sir. Thank you,’ she whimpered. Her voice was scratchy from the screaming. 

He drew his fingers out and pulled her up. Her knees were shaking and she fell back against him. 

‘You’ve made a mess,’ he said. ‘I think you should clean up after yourself.’

He offered her his hand and she stuck her tongue out, darting little kitten licks to clean it of her slick. She moaned as she did so and he couldn’t help but grind forward, pressing his cock against her pert little arse. She pressed back. The friction was both delicious and terrible. He wasn’t going to come in his braies like a kit. He wasn’t. If she didn’t stop that though, he might not have a choice. He pulled his hand away. 

‘Enough now,’ he said. He barely recognised the sound of his own voice. 

‘Are you happy with your purchase?’ the odious little man asked. Another man had joined him while Aiden had been distracted and he barely resisted the urge to curse. This was his target. The slaver that he had been sent after. Before he could react, Ciri had shrugged out of her ropes, ducked down and pulled the knife out of his boot. Her throw was textbook, exactly as he had taught her, and it embedded itself in the target’s eye. 

All hell broke loose as his body hit the ground.

[spencers-renaissance]

baby, you’re my new years’ eve

Summary: You and Emily are hosting a New Years’ Eve party for all of your friends, but she’s acting a little weird. You finally find out why when the clock strikes midnight.

Tags: fluff, nye fic, proposal, getting engaged, domesticity, romance, flirting, day in the life 

Pairing: Emily x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

It’s almost 10am by the time you get back from your morning errands, laden with bags and a dusting of snow decorating your coat. You shrug out of your coat and scarf, peel off your gloves, and kick off your boots as you venture further into the house you share with your girlfriend, a warm safe haven from the frozen wind outside. All the Christmas lights the two of you had put up together a few weeks ago are turned on, and the warm and happy feeling settling in your chest only intensifies when you shoulder the kitchen door open to see Emily awake and drinking a cup of coffee at the table.

“You’re up,” you smile, knowing that Emily likes a lie-in on her days off, and she damn well deserves it, too.

“You’re back,” she echoes, a matching bright smile lighting up her face. She’s still in her pyjamas, a dressing gown thrown around her shoulders, and her hair has been let down from its bun, a slight curl to it after having slept with it up. She looks absolutely beautiful, naturally.

“I am.” You walk further into the room and put your bags down on the kitchen counter, beginning to unpack them. “I picked up some stuff for the party tonight, but I also got you breakfast.” You grab a plate from the cupboard and load it up with the pastries you’d bought from the local bakery, sold to you by the baker who knows both you and Emily by name.

“Oh,” she gasps in delight. “Have I told you lately I love you?” She reaches eagerly for the plate to place it on the table before reaching around for a kiss.

“You have,” you confirm, amused, “you tell me every day, Em.”

“Because it’s true,” she nods with wide eyes through a mouthful of almond croissant.

Laughing, you grab yourself a plate and a few pastries before joining Emily at the table. “Did you sleep alright?”

“Mm, it was a bit broken,” she admits, not quite meeting your eye for some reason. “But I made up for it with a little lie-in this morning.” Emily never sleeps badly at home. She’s always said that sleeping in her own bed with you wrapped around her is the best sleeping tablet she’s ever tried, but you don’t dwell on it too much.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” you say sympathetically. “You could always have a nap early this afternoon. Need to be in the best shape for partying the night away.”

“Yeah, I might do,” she says, looking back up at you. “If I start to feel tired I’ll try and sleep. Anyway, how did you sleep, Y/N?”

“Like a baby,” you smile. “Woke up early so I thought I’d beat the New Years’ Eve rush to buy up the rest of the snacks. Plus, pastries for breakfast… can’t beat that.”

“You definitely can’t,” Emily says, a smudge of icing on her lip. “Thank you for doing that, sweetheart.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you say, leaning over to wipe the icing off with your thumb, kissing her for good measure. “Icing,” you explain with a grin as you pull away.

“Ah,” she says knowingly, winking at you before leaning back in for another kiss. “Right, come on. Finish your breakfast and we’ll get on with the day.”

The rest of the morning is spent in the kitchen. You’d decided that as much of the food on offer at the New Years’ party the two of you had planned should be homemade as possible, which meant a fridge full of baked goods you’d already prepared but a short list of items that still needed to be made. It was a bit of an undertaking, but it kept you busy. Despite having known the rest of the BAU for years and having been fully incorporated into their family, you still get nervous before each gathering. Being surrounded by powerful, smart, successful FBI agents was always going to be intimidating, no matter how much you considered them your friends.

“Emily, please don’t stick your finger into the butter and then plunge it into the sugar,” you sigh, a little exasperated as your girlfriend shoves her greasy finger into her mouth for the third time.

“What?” she asks, pretending to be insulted. “It tastes good.”

“Yeah, it’s also not very hygienic,” you point out, rolling out the cookie dough.

“Oh, please, what’s a bit of my saliva when you kiss me everyday anyway?” she asks.

“Well, I might think that,” you reason, “but I’m not sure our guests will. Unless you’ve been running around kissing them, too?” You point your rolling pin at her accusatorily as you wait for her response.

“No!” she cries, kissing you in promise of her devotion. “I only have eyes for you, baby. By the way is it too early to have a glass of wine?”

You roll your eyes at that, trying unsuccessfully to stifle a fond laugh. “It’s 11am Emily,” you giggle. “What’s got into you this morning?”

“Nothing,” she says defensively. “I’m just… excited for the party later.”

“Hmm, okay,” you say dubiously, raising an amused eyebrow in her direction. “In that case, you get started on the samosas. Fry up the filling I prepared and roll out the pastry for me? Then all we need to do is put the chips in later on and set it all up.”

“Anything for you, baby,” she smiles, kissing your cheek before getting on with her assignment.

You work together with your ‘happy’ playlist playing over the kitchen speakers for the next hour and a bit to get all the food ready, and by the time the samosas are being fried, you’re both in desperate need of a sit down. “Right, let’s order something to eat and watch an episode or three of Parks and Rec before we need to get ready and set up, how does that sound?” Emily asks as you both begin the mammoth task of cleaning up the bombsite of a kitchen.

“I don’t know, Em, we have so much food in the fridge,” you say, worrying your lip at the decision.

“Yeah, but it’s all for the party tonight, you don’t want to eat it now,” she says, reaching for your hand and squeezing it comfortingly. “Come on, we’ll tidy up afterwards. I’ll order in some UberEats and we’ll relax for a little while. We deserve it after all this.”

“Okay,” you relent, offering her a grateful smile and letting yourself be guided to the sofa by Emily’s hand.

“You’ve done an amazing job at making all this food, sweetheart,” she says warmly, running a hand through your hair. “You should rest for a bit now so you can properly enjoy tonight, yeah?” She tucks a blanket around you and hands you the remote before she pulls out her phone to order you both some lunch.

Sandwiches eaten and two extra coffees polished off, you get started on setting up the house for the party. The leftover decorations from Christmas make the house bright and pretty enough, so it’s fairly easy to make the house look welcoming, but you still have to sort out the food and drink, move the furniture, and put away the valuables. Not to mention getting yourselves ready.

“Everyone’s arriving at 8, right babe?” Emily calls from the kitchen as you move the coffee table to the side in the living right.

“That’s right,” you call back. “But Spencer and Penelope will probably be here early.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Emily says, walking into the living room and leaning against the doorframe as you finish pushing the table aside to make the room more accessible.

“Does this look okay?” you ask, putting your hands on your hips as you survey your living room.

“It looks great, baby,” Emily reassures you, pushing off the door and pulling you into a side hug as you both look at the decorated room. “The Christmas tree is still up which makes the whole room look lovely, and the New Year banner is nice, too. It’s absolutely perfect for what we need it to do.”

“Okay,” you agree, turning to the side to press your face into her neck, kissing her briefly before pulling away again. “Let’s tidy away the expensive stuff and then go and get ready, yeah?”

“Y/N, there are like 15 people coming and nobody’s gonna get off their tits; we don’t really need to put this stuff away,” she promises, but it’s to no avail.

“Well, I’d rather be safe. Even tipsy people can do some damage,” you point out, putting Emily’s mother’s vase in the cabinet along with a few decorations from the mantle.

“Fair enough,” she agrees, heading into the kitchen to continue tidying up after your earlier cooking adventures. You join her a moment later and the two of you work quickly to do the washing up, tidy the counter, and put the dishwasher on. You’re soon looking at a spick and span kitchen, nearly party-ready, and you smile at your girlfriend in satisfaction. “Looks amazing, doesn’t it?” she smiles back at you.

“It does indeed,” you nod. “It’s only 4. You wanna sit down for a bit before getting ready?”

“Absolutely I do,” she says. “Wanna nap with me?”

“Please,” you sigh, grabbing her hand to lead her down to your bedroom. The two of you ditch the trousers and bury under the covers, setting a timer for an hour before promptly falling asleep.

“Want me to wash your hair?” Emily asks as you both stand under the hot jet of water. Your favourite part of moving in with Emily was definitely the shower; you’d moved from a flat with a from a tiny bath and shower combo unit to a beautiful house on the outskirts of DC with a large walk-in shower and the best water pressure you’d ever experienced; it was quite the upgrade.

“Only if I get to do yours afterwards,” you grin, leaning in for a rather wet and soapy kiss.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” she says, spinning you round and pouring a generous dollop of shampoo into her palm, lathering up your hair as she massages her fingers into your scalp in a delicious massage. You can’t help but lean into the touch, just as you always do with Emily, making her chuckle fondly. “Feel good?”

You just let out a happy moan in response, sighing as the water washes the shampoo away and Emily quickly applies some conditioner. “Your turn,” you say, doing the same for your girlfriend as she sighs appreciatively.

You both shave your legs and underarms quickly before finishing up in the shower and towelling off next to one another in the spacious bathroom. “Right, it’s 5.30,” you say, checking your phone while Emily wraps her hair up, “so we’ve got like… two hours, probably, until Pen and Spencer show up.”

“Plenty of time,” Emily says breezily, waving her hand in your direction as you open the bathroom window to air out the humidity.

“Still, better to be early rather than late,” you say pointedly, grabbing Emily’s hand and dragging her away from her perch by the radiator and into the bedroom.

She hums as she drops her towel and peruses her wardrobe. When she turns back around with the dress she plans on wearing, you don’t bother to hide your blatant appreciation. After all these years you’re still somehow blown away with how sexy Emily manages to be. “Naughty girl,” she gasps in mock admonishment. “We don’t have time for that. Your words not mine.”

“Life’s tough,” you sigh heavily, walking over and squeezing her ass lightly, taking great pleasure in making her jump as you pull out the dress you’d decided on earlier in the week. “What do you think?” you ask her.

“It will look absolutely gorgeous, Y/N,” she promises, kissing your cheek. She passes you your bathrobe and pulls her own on as you both head to your adjoining dressing tables to sort out your hair. “Straight or curly?”

“Hmm, straight, I think,” you reply, “you know I love your natural hair. I’m gonna go curly though, so we’ll compliment each other perfectly.”

You put on some music and get ready together in tandem, and it goes about as simply as it can when Emily’s involved. You only have three make-up brushes chucked at you and her desk isn’t a total disgrace by the time you’re finished, so you take it as a win. It’s just gone 7 by the time you’re both dressed up to the nines and ready for the party.

“You look… breathtaking,” Emily says dreamily as she drinks you in, kissing you gently so as not to smudge either of your lipsticks.

“Thanks, Em,” you say shyly. “You look absolutely beautiful, too.” She’s wearing a gorgeous full-length black dress with a deep v neck line and a slit in the right leg. She’s a vision next to your colourful outfit and bright makeup, always complementing one another in just the right ways.

“Right, well, if we both look amazing, it’s time to set out the food, isn’t it?” she asks, winking at you as she leads the way out to the kitchen, shutting and locking the door behind you to prevent any stray party guests from wandering in.

The next hour passes quickly and soon guests are spilling through the door, brightening the whole house with their chatter and laughter, getting started on the wine and party food. Emily is marginally quieter than usual, but you brush it up to her just being tired, especially when she’s roped into a conversation with Hotch and Rossi and immediately perks up.

The whole of the BAU team is here, along with your best friends and the few Couple Friends you and Emily had made over the last few years that made you both feel far too grown up and sophisticated. Your friends quickly mingle in with the rest of the guests, though, which was your biggest worry, so with that relief you let yourself relax and enjoy the party.

Spencer and Penelope snag you into a conversation, plying you with champagne and the samosas you’d made with Emily earlier until you properly let go and enjoy yourself. “Wait, Emily made these?” Spencer asks, slightly incredulous at the idea of his most chaotic friend being even somewhat capable in the kitchen.

“She was supervised, don’t worry,” you laugh, biting into one delicious samosa after another.

“I wish I could cook,” Spencer says as he accepts another one from Penelope’s proffered plate.

“Aw, I’ll teach you baby genius,” Penelope grins. “But I once watched you try and put a croissant in the toaster, so you may be a lost cause.”

“Hey, that was when I’d first joined the BAU,” Spencer protests. “It was the first time I had a salary and could afford such luxuries, you can’t blame me for not knowing what to do with it.” His defenses fall on deaf ears, though, as you and Penelope laugh loudly at his expense. “Derek will defend me,” he eventually mutters before running off to find his boyfriend.

You and Penelope chat easily for a while, introducing her to a few of your friends as you orbit around the downstairs of your house. Eventually, you cross paths with Emily again, who still looks a little tense and quiet. “Hey,” you say, catching her arm and subtly drawing her to the side. “Is everything okay, baby?”

“Yeah, of course,” she says, plastering on a smile you know is fake. “I’m fine, sweetheart. Just enjoy the party, okay? We’ll talk later.”

You can’t really enjoy the party when the back of your mind is continually worrying about your girlfriend, but you’re able to circle around the house a few more times, chatting with all of your guests as everyone tucks into the alcohol and food. Before you know it it’s nearing midnight and Emily’s in the corner of the kitchen having a serious-looking conversation with Hotch.

Tentatively approaching, you tap Emily on the shoulder. “Everyone’s gonna watch the ball drop in the living room,” you say. “You coming?” You try and smile as encouragingly as possible, taking her soft hand in yours.

“Yeah,” she says, looking a little flustered and you can see a little sheen of sweat on her forehead, “yeah, of course, baby. Let’s go.” She hands her glass of champagne to Hotch in a sort of weird gesture that has you furrowing her eyebrows, but nevertheless she grips your hand firmly and you swan into the living room which is already housing most of the guests, everyone chatting and laughing loudly. The sight of so many people you love and adore has you smiling warmly, and you press your arm up against Emily’s, resting your head on her shoulder as the 2 minute countdown begins.

“I love you so much, you know,” you whisper, just for her to hear in the loud, excited room. “I can’t wait to spend a whole other year together. I feel so lucky to have you.”

She moves her neck slightly causing you to lift your head and you’re met with a happy, excited smile, all traces of the nervous Emily that had been swanning around the party all night disappeared. “I feel even luckier to have you, sweetheart,” she murmurs. “You have no idea.”

You both lean in for a kiss which is quickly interrupted by Derek. “Bit early, ladies,” he calls across the room, “it’s not midnight yet.” He’s got Spencer curled up under his arm on the sofa, resting comfortably next to JJ and Penelope who have also cuddled up together. Hotch and Rossi are standing by the Christmas tree rolling their eyes fondly at their agents.

Emily responds with a purposeful middle finger and a well-practiced sneer, but Derek can’t reply because soon the room fills with a swell of noise as everyone starts to count down.

Everyone cheers as the new year is rung in, but as you turn to kiss Emily, you’re instead faced with her on one knee, offering an absolutely beautiful engagement ring. You gasp loudly, gaining everyone’s attention and everyone stops their celebration as a happy, expectant hush falls on the room, the TV’s celebration the only sound.

“Y/N, I can’t express how much I love you,” Emily starts, voice confident but you can hear the undercurrent of emotion written all over it. “All I want to do for the rest of my life is be with you. Ring in each new year with you, celebrate every Christmas with you, come home from every hard case to you, eat pastry for breakfast with you. You’re all I need to be happy, and you’d make me impossibly happier if you’d do me the honour of being my wife. So, Y/N, will you marry me?”

“Yes, oh my God,” you reply tearfully as soon as she’s finished, tears spilling down your face as she carefully pushes the ring onto your finger and stands up to hug you. Everyone around you is clapping and cheering and celebrating your love but your whole world is shrunk down to the two of you, Emily’s hands on your lower back, her ring on your finger, the press of her body up against yours.

Eventually though, you pull away and kiss her, turning to face your guests with the happiest smile on your face. Hotch is smiling proudly and all the events of the evening slip into place, so you turn to kiss Emily on the cheek fondly. Penelope is crying, naturally, as are most of your friends and everyone crowds round in excitement, congratulating the two of you.

When you finally get a bit of space later in the night, you ask Emily where she’d kept the ring all evening.

“In my bra,” she answers, grinning widely.

“God, how did I not guess that,” you smile fondly, rolling your eyes. You kiss her anyway, though, because she’s hot and you’re very much in love.

“I’m so fucking happy you said yes,” she whispers, keeping her head pressed closely to yours.

“Did you seriously think I would ever say anything else?” you ask, surprised that Emily could possibly think you’d say no.

“Well, I obviously had a feeling,” she admits. “But you can’t help but feel fearful of the tiny probability you’re wrong.”

“Well I didn’t,” you say happily, leaning forward slightly to kiss her softly on the nose.

“No, you didn’t,” Emily replies, gripping her hand. “I seriously love you so much, Y/N.”

“And I seriously love you so much, Emily,” you grin. “I can’t wait to call you my wife, but I’m dead happy with fiancée. That will definitely suffice for now.”

The guests slowly trickle out as the hours tick on, eager to leave the newly engaged couple to themselves. Penelope and Spencer make you promise to have a catch-up brunch in the next few weeks to which you eagerly agree, and Hotch and Rossi both congratulate you like they’re both you and Emily’s dads. Derek gives you both massive hugs and JJ follows up with much gentler hugs and congratulations.

“Tidy up in the morning?” you propose, making Emily’s eyebrows shoot up; you usually insist on tidying up there and then, but she quickly understands as you start to unzip your dress and walk backwards towards the bedroom.

“Tidy up in the morning, indeed,” she agrees, running after you.

“My fiancée,” you sigh happily as you enter your cosy bedroom, pausing to kiss Emily softly.

“Your fiancée,” Emily agrees with a wide grin gracing her lips, leading you to the bed as you both start off this next exciting chapter of your lives together in the most appropriate way you can imagine.

@strippersenseii @criminalmindsvibez

[baka-monarch]

Alrighty! *Slams hands on a desk*

You see this?! *Gestures to the oh so wonderful Music Tubbox au*

It's... it's beautiful.

I have some questions about it that I'd like to hear your thoughts on, if you don't mind. (This is going to be long)

*Before I start, I'm recalling these details with the inability to double check atm but it should be fine*

You mentioned Tubbo wanting to escape the music box to where he wouldn't have to dance if the music box played, so does the box have a certain range of area in order to control Tubbo?

(Now for potential headcanon time >:D)

If so, a fluffy route is Tommy and Tubbo chilling (after knowing each other for a bit) and having placed the music box deep in the basement or something. They could get rid of it, but they don't know if the magic tied to Tubbo is also tied as close with the box. (Life line stuff- and it's not fluff anymore. I tried.)

The angst route tho (and gotta love some angst) is if say Tubbo is out of the general "range" of the box to dance but the music box calls to him-the music is played- from wherever. A scenario where Tubbo can't ignore its call and is forced to go reunite with the box- whether he's concious of the pull and heading back to where it is despite the dread or whether he's unconscious, like its an automatic process and his mind blanks as he hurries to be back with the box. (The possibilities if someone got their hands on the box with the angst mhmm)

And speaking of someone getting ahold of the music box...

Dream.

:)

Dream gets ahold of the box (maybe noticing Tommy originally getting it, or like, Wilbur might've been doing a photo gallery of things to sell to potential customers idk stay with me, and skips over it fast or is like "oh, I already sold that one" to try and cover the fact that the box is very much NOT for sale, and not within their possession in case anyone did perk up with interest)

I don't know what Dream's profession would be... or relationship with Wilbur and co, but I could see him doing it (taking the box) to mess with Tommy. He took one of Tommy's finds that Tommy seems to appreciate. (The whole "you're too fun" dynamic because c!Dream just loves seeing kids in pain)

Dream could know about Tubbo prior or after the whole thing. (After playing the music box, Dream sees Tubbo arrive at some point to be with the box)

Tubbo is understandably terrified. Tubbo and the music box had never really been separated before this moment -out of the range-. (Tommy could have either just agreed to not play the box and have put it downstairs or Tubbo tried to escape the range and Tommy physically went after him, not choosing to utilize the music box.)

OR ALTERNATIVELY They do know, maybe Tubbo could have known this would happen because Tommy and him tested it out to see if he was free and Tubbo was like "I didn't want to come back... it /made/ me come back..." So que the alarm bells when Tommy realizes the box is gone after he can't find Tubbo.

Anyway! Back to Tubbo and Dream. (Tbh as soon as doll!Tubbo became a tag I went "Pawn? Puppeteer Dream? Porcelain doll? Puppet?!) A chess piece for a pawn might be bigger than doll!Tubbo... (o.O) 2-3 inches is pretty small.

So... assuming Dream does realize how important Tubbo is to Tommy, Dream uses it to his advantage. (Is making Tubbo dance the only thing the music box can do? Or could it control Tubbo to do other things as well 👀... depending on the music box holder 👀... up to you)

That brings me to the doll!Tubbo is "fairly fragile" as you stated in one of the asks. Which yes, great, stunning, he can feel things, and if one of his arms gets chopped off? Well that's alot of damage. Can Tubbo die while he's "fairly fragile"? (I mean the name implies he's fragile so... I guess so...)

Because alternatively, (and this is just for the idea) consider Tubbo still being fragile physically, but he can't die-or atleast is hard to kill-. A porcelain body, but he doesn't really feel sensations. (Because he is a doll, and do dolls breathe, do dolls have heartbeats, hmm) Tubbo's body is still breakable, maybe he loses an arm. "What a shame" but he lives on, there's not much he can do. He can't feel anything besides the solids underneath him and the things he touches. No smell or texturized sensations. He can't feel pain, so he could get cut up into pieces and still be aware of exsistence. (The whole clothes stuck to body thing tho I don't want to disprove that)

If he couldn't feel pain, imagine Dream drilling small holes on his body to add little puppeteer strings. Dream is excited he can't wait to hold /this/ over Tommy's head.

Tubbo, being dragged by strings, is completely helpless, and once realizing that Dream relishes in his struggles, has mainly given up.

Do they talk to one another? Who knows...

You mentioned a potential counter curse which... fluff good fluff, but what of it involved Tubbo slowly gaining "human characteristics" back (more so to the idea that Tubbo can't feel sensations, smell things or feel pain)

And then the drilling starts, and for the first time in a long time, Tubbo feels pain. (Also the drilling puppet strings is dark, yessir, but I forgot Tubbo was porcelain and was like ah yes wood doll, ah yes, puppet strings go brr)

Anyway, that was my ramble, thanks for reading this!

-EchoLocation

FINALLY!!! SOMEONE IS INTERESTED IN THIS AU!!! THANK YOU ECHOLOCATION!!!!!!

Okay okay okay-

So (it's gonna be hard to answer all of this but I'mma try-)

Music box control: there is a range, basically if Tubbo can hear the music he has to dance to it- BUT if he's out of range and someone plays the music he is forced to get into range to hear it from the curse (like what you said with him being stuck in a trance and going to find it). As for control, you can use the box to make him do other things, but you have to change the melody (music boxes have this little metal roll in them that has dots to play the song, and you can buy a new one and change it any time) and sing an actual song to that melody about what you want him to do- singing to the original melody doesn't work

Dream: Dream is probably someone who buys and trades stolen items from Wilbur alot. And most likely a hidden fae. So, Wilbur had taken a picture of the box and posted it on his (secret) website before he knew about Tubbo, and when Dream saw it- he immediately recognised the cursed music box and wanted it. Of course by then Wilbur would be unwilling to sell it, but Dream has his ways (fae cursed the box remember? So, what fae that's going to steal this box do you think was there when it was cursed? Dream. So who knows how to utilize the curse? Dream.)

Tubbo and pain: Tubbo can feel pain. But he can't die. So you can shatter him to a million pieces and he would be in agony unless someone glued him back together- and he can't pass out- (I know, I'm a monster). Dream knows all of this- so when he wants a puppet it just makes him do a sloppy job at drilling the holes in, just so he can hurt Tubbo more.

Counter curse: through the counter Tubbo would turn back very slowly, and it would take at least a year to turn completely human again (although he would be free from the box's control instinaniously)- as well as, even though he was turned into a tiny doll, he can't be grown back, so he's now a tiny human- but at least a free tiny human

(I think I got it all?)

Mcyt g/t tag list:

@nomynameisanon @trashpumped @loriepoptale @encaos @i-am-a-weeb @wyforyu-gaming @shy-septic-dragon @5unfl0writ3r @colorfulsiren @moonmwah @iwasgoingtohellanyways @echoslime @wilbur-simp @trouble-off-grid @the-misfits-system

[argumentl]

The Freedom of Expression, radio version - Ep 39, June 2016 - Naked living, Tokyo Sports 'Lowlife Awards', Muhammad Ali's death.

Kaoru starts by saying at the time of this broadcast, the band will still be on tour and  they will only have two dates at Shinkiba left to do. Joe says he wants to attend the live on June 2nd. This date is also the day of the next broadcast of this show, so he will go to the live, then come home and listen to Dir's new single Utafumi on this show.

Kaoru's first topic relates to a British tv documentary shown on the channel Barcroft TV (now the youtube channel Truly) about a 'naked family'. Kaoru says just the word 'naked' reminds him of the naked old man living on an island in Okinawa, who was visited by Hiranabe. Getting back on track, he continues that the documentary concerns married couple Dave and Diane, who live in Cornwall, UK. This was Diane's 4th marriage, her third being with an abusive man who caused her to see little value in herself. Then she met Dave, who had been interested in naked living since his teens. After being with Dave for two years, Diane has learned to see value in herself again, and has also been happily living naked with him. Kaoru stresses that it seems like they only go naked at home, or at sanctioned places, they are not just walking down the street naked. Both he and Joe wonder about the mentality behind this. They mention the existence of nudist beaches etc. Joe admits that although he usually wears clothes both outside and at home, when he gets stuck writing his manuscripts, he takes a bath to ponder the issue. If he realises the answer to his problem, he will jump out of the bath, and get back to writing, not bothering with clothes. This is slightly different from a naked lifestyle, but it has that same liberating element. Kaoru comments that taking off clothes creates a neutral or 'flat' base. Some people might feel stress from wearing clothes. Joe mentions that the sociologist Kurimoto Shinichiro once said that human beings contain 20% human characteristics and 80% animal characteristics. Joe continues that from the viewpoint of an animal, wearing clothes is pretty odd. Its only humans that do it. In that sense its hard to see whats wrong with naked living. Kaoru agrees, but still thinks we can't all start going naked. Rules around this have developed over time. When you can't even show womens' chests on tv, going naked is a no-no. Joe says, imagine how awful it would be if Hiranabe came to the studio naked? Kaoru finds this pretty unpleasant and asks why Joe had to choose Hiranabe. Joe then brings up writer/actor Shimoda Kageki, who was once gifted a pair of Marylin Monroe print tights from a friend who studied design in New York. He loved the tights so much, he wore them a lot, but was ridiculed for it. His response was to say, 'whats wrong with me wearing something I love?'. Again, its slightly different from living naked, but it shows that what you wear or don't wear shouldn't have to be dicatated by trends. Kaoru repeates the idea that some people might feel stress with clothes, and liberated without them. He then changes the subject a bit to tell a story about one time he went to the toilet in Dir en grey's office. He wanted to use the cubicle, and it was unlocked so he pushed the door open, only to find a staff member in there with pants down. The staff member snapped at Kaoru, 'What are you doing?!' But Kaoru feels he didn't do anything wrong, as the door was unlocked. He didn't want to see a staff member sat on the toilet. Joe says Dir en grey's office sounds pretty interesting.

Next they welcome Tasai for the Tokyo Sports corner, and are slightly disappointed its Tasai and not Hiranabe, because they don't want Hiranabe to be on the show next week when Utafumi is played. Knowing what he is like, they would have preferred him this week so he would not appear on the Utafumi premier show. The song will be played at the end of the show, so any new listeners tuning in the hear the single will be exposed to Hiranabe. Tasai says Hiranabe is probably saving up his energy in preparation. Kaoru says he will cut Hiranabe's mic if he gets too carried away.

Tasai's first news is that Tokyo Sports have announced their own 'Low-life Awards', meaning a list of the most low-life, base stories of the year so far. The number one lowlife story so far is that of the scandal surrounding Tokyo Governer Masuzoe Yōichi. Other stories include the Becky scandal, and the scandal involving Funky Kato's affair. Kaoru mentions that at the time of recording, Masuzoe is still Tokyo Governer, but who knows what will happen. Joe says, the House of Councillors election is approaching, and the LDP/Kōmeitō may be trying to keep thier distance from Masuzoe, but there is still currently no candidate standing to replace him. Tasai speculates whether his ex-wife Katayama Satsuki could stand, or maybe Renho. Joe comments that its a difficult job to do as so many scandals around it get exposed. Masuzoe had been exposed as using public funds for personal luxuries, and one of his claims was for an Italian restaurant which is actually near Tasai's house. Its a family restaurant, which makes Tasai wonder why Masuzoe would claim expenses for this. Masuzoe was also found to have bought a Crayon Shin-chan book with public money, apparently for study. Kaoru thinks he's too stingy. Additionally, despite previously owning the horse that won the Tokyo Derby twice in a row (the horse was sold before his election), he even apparently used public money to buy a discount coupon book for his local area. Kaoru thinks he would probably forget to use the coupons anyway. Tasai thinks there will be a lot more dirty scandals to come in the second half of the year. As for private dirty scandals, Hiranabe would probably win it.

The next story relates to the death of boxer Muhammad Ali. Tasai says he knows and has heard a lot about Ali from wrestler Antonio Inoki, who had a match with Ali in 1976. Joe mentions that Ali appeared on the cover of the U.S. version of Rolling Stone many times, and was well know for his political stances in relation to war and segregation. Tasai then tells a story about Ali that he heard from Inoki. In 1995, Inoki took part in a two day wrestling competition in North Korea, which he also invited Ali to (by this stage his Parkinson's disease was quite advanced). Despite being unable to talk, Ali got up during the event, ran up the stairs and started shadow boxing. He felt some revival of his energy. The following year Ali acted as a torch barer in the 1976 Atlanta Summer Olympics, and according to Inoki it was because of this event in North Korea that Ali regained the energy to be a torch bearer in the Olympics. Tasai then talks a bit about the 1976 fight between Ali and Inoki, which consisted of boxing and pro wrestling in the same fight. Hearing Inoki's story reminds Joe of how Ali was known to believe that nothing is impossible. Joe also mentions the words Ali spoke in his Harvard speech in 1975, also known as the world's shortest poem, 'Me, We'. Tasai asks Kaoru about whether artists need to have a strong sense of will to get through struggles, like Ali had opposing the Vietnam war. He was heavily criticized for his opposition. Kaoru says Dir go by only doing things they like, and if that comes with struggle, then so be it. Its the path they chose, so they must deal with it. Tasai asks if there were any times where people havn't properly understood the band's actions. Kaoru says there is never a time when everything is understood perfectly by everyone. In fact, he prefers not to push specific explanations or meanings about Dir's music. The listeners can use thier own imagination. Tasai links this back the the new song Utafumi, and Kaoru once again repeats his desire for Hiranabe not to be on the show next week.

To finish, Kaoru plus the new jingle campaign, Budokan DVD, and tour, and reminds listeners to tune in next week for a first listen of the new single.

Songs - Dir en grey/Shokubeni