#and since I learned that that one Windows background is actually a photograph and not a graphic

[inksandpensblog]

It’s kinda neat how Chosen’s lightning ability is specifically lightning and not just electricity in general. He always makes a cloud for it to come from first.

Also have you noticed that he doesn’t need his fire to stay in the air whenever he has those thunderclouds? Granted we’ve only seen him use lightning on three occasions and he was only flying for two of them, and he may still be flying with his fire while he’s making them, but it seems that when he’s actively using the cloud he doesn’t need his fire to remain airborn.

He might not even need to make the cloud himself; in Wanted it looks like he calls upon the clouds that are already around him. But it’s interesting that it seems he needs a cloud on-hand in order to do anything with electricity.

[chocsra]

idk abt others but yes i do eat up every single one of ur hs au bc it's so silly and yes i am looking at you with a chuuya plushie in my hand to ask for a dazai x reader hs au fanfic

✧ "YOU ARE THE CITY OF MY HEART"

☆ synopsis ↺: skipping class with your classmate, dazai yet again. but this time, you explore the ocean of your feelings together.

☆ content ↺: HIGHSCHOOL AU 15ZAI, musical prodigy! dazai, photographer! dazai, introvert! dazai, slightly ooc, fluff

☆ NOW PLAYING ↺: UNDERSTAND — keshi

☆ w/c ↺: 2k

you don't think you have ever lived without noise,

ever since you were a kid, you were talked your ear off by your parents, lectured by several adults, and screamed plentifully with friends. when there was silence, there was music to mask it. good or bad noise, it existed, survived, and was a huge part of your life.

but you,

Dazai Osamu, are probably the quietest person you've ever known.

the only sound you could associate with him was the shutter of a camera taking a picture—the same sound you've been continually hearing.

It was a regular school day, both dressed in full uniform, baking under the bright rays of the morning sun. There wasn't anything particularly wrong about this day. you could pick off the reddening leaves from bark-ridden tree branches and soak in the imprint of tree stumps, looking ever so similar to that of a fingerprint. it was a pretty autumn day; you just so happened to get to see that. you think, taking a withering leaf into the palm of your hand.

shutter.

"osamu, stop taking photos of me." —you chide, gently swatting the pointed camera out of view. the brunette in front of you, currently crouching, laughs boyishly as he removes his face pressed against the camera, gaze now overseeing the autumn sight before him. "sorry," dazai whispers, tinkering with a few buttons to review the photos he took. "you don't have to skip class with me, y'know." he murmurs, eyes glued to his camera.

he was a photographer, a pretty one at that. quiet and mysterious, you were rather surprised to learn that a boy reads fine literature and other classical means. sometimes, he picked up a violin or combined delicate fingers to gracefully waltz with a grand piano. his most prized possession was a camera, freezing the most beautiful of the intricacies of nature and people. but who was he? the boy who read books instead of taking notes in lectures, wavy chocolate brown hair that sun rays adored to find a home in, and a tall and slim build fitted in a school uniform and bandages. to capture the slope of his cheek, the deep hazel in hollow irises, and his olive skin. he was Dazai Osamu, a walking mystery.

so, you'd like to know where you stood with him in terms of relationship and if he even likes you at all. skipping class together, sneaking in your window at night, pretending to hang out with friends if it meant seeing him—it didn’t feel like something close friends did, like he was a secret you wanted to keep for yourself. but you couldn’t tell if that greed was reciprocated, if he was bored, or even considered you a close friend, a best friend. but instead of worrying too much, you only watch how his fingers work with a bulky camera, capturing nature's highs and lows.

“i know,” you twiddle with your fingers, grumbling, “class is boring anyway.” the brunette furrows his brows at the photos, brushing your excuse off, “this is shit. i think i’ve taken enough photos around the school.” he groans softly; you could practically hear his creative mind burning in the process. “did you delete the picture of me?” you question, standing over the lanky boy’s crouched form. “no, that one is good. i mean, the actual background, it's all repetitive.”

you tap a finger on your chim, “ahh,” you hum, pretending to understand his perspective. “winter should be here already.” the teenager grumbles under his breath before letting go of the camera to let it hang off his neck. you pace around slowly, feeling the surface of leaves crushing under your heels. “I mean, you don’t have to stay in school if you’re already skipping class.” you mutter, watching as a boyish grin lights up on his face. “you’re right, [y/n]! let’s go!”

a cold hand wraps his fingers around yours before dragging you to the nearest exit—"dazai!” you whine as the brunette drags you, “it’s cooooolllddddd!” you complain, your scarf nearly falling off as you run and run. hand in hand. this rather rushing feeling brings you a taste of memories you barely remember you had.

no one understood Dazai Osamu,

because he was a prodigy, he was something. something big, something great, something that made other geniuses seethe in envy. the boy had extraordinary intellect but a weak mind. no, dazai wasn't weak. he was just always unwell to a certain degree, and to most, it didn't take much to figure out—wearing long sleeves in summer, loving bandages for the comforting feelings even if he didn't need them, and reading books guiding the suicidal. dazai never hid it—that he was unwell, almost like a cry for help.

but for the genius that he was, nobody understood that.

but you did, in seventh grade. you were sniffling, pacing in remnants of snow as tears blurred your vision. though in your hazy field of sight, you outline the figure of one of your classmates approaching you, his tall frame catching the snowflakes from hitting your face. slowly, a boyish voice calls out.

"...are you okay?"

it was dazai, the stone-faced boy and talented prodigy. he wore a black trenchcoat, a little too big for his figure, and covered one of his chocolate brown eyes with bandages. you shook your head, a throbbing pain added from the tinge of snowflakes collecting in your hair. his stoic gaze never left you, standing there in the middle of a snowstorm, crying. the boy himself couldn't muster a feasible reason for walking outside in a snowstorm at this hour, so out of courtesy and a slight tinge of nervousness, he whispered, "let's go for a walk."

suddenly, nimble fingers reach out to grab yours; your fingers are used to originally wipe snot and cover your face. but dazai had no reaction to anything gross like that—like snot and tears. instead, he took shaky fingers into the cold ones of his own, pulling you gently along the sidewalk. you could barely make out his face or your feelings at the moment, only focused on his broad shoulders covered by that raven trench coat, soaking up snowflakes and the well of your tears.

from there, you walked and walked. hand in hand. soon running together with no particular destination—only feeling your body starting to warm up, sore feet clashing against snow, and his hand that never let go of yours.

Dazai Osamu never knew why you were crying, nor did you know what ever went through his head that day.

but from that moment forward,

you understood him.

soon, you were led by that same hand past pretty autumn leaves and into a foresty meadow, closed off from the rest of the world. several forms of wildlife scrapped by, followed by a murky pond under the sun's wake, surrounded by trees of reds and oranges. it perfectly provided what the school's campus couldn't—a sense of divergence reeling in the soft convolutions of your brain. "pretty, isn't it?"—the brunette chimes, panting from the long distance you two ran. "why'd you do that?" you grumble, rubbing your abdomen from an incoming sharp pain, "don't you have asthma?"

he immediately backtracks, shooting you an unamused glare, "that's.. enough." dazai huffs, before removing the strapped camera around his neck, "here, maybe you can take better pictures than i can." the boy chuckles shyly, a very drastic verbal response than his usual arrogance.

"hmm," a gentle hum slips past your lips, squinting one of your eyes in order to press the machine against your face. "i can try." after scouting the area with his camera for a few seconds, you began to snap a few shots at the darkening lake, carrying several leaves in its wake.

and as you paid full attention to the awaiting winter, dazai's gaze stayed on you, his autumn. his gaze softened and his slightly chapped lips parted in a momentary surprise, taking you in with every breath he took. Dazai himself loved photography; he loved capturing moments that would soon get lost in time. the brunette, with a talent for many things, found solace in photos. he loved to take photos of resting cats, dark sceneries you'd only find in an alleyway of a fantasy novel, and candid pictures of random couples on dates. dazai loved taking photos but detested that he didn't have a camera on hand at the moment—for he wanted to freeze this divine sight of you in the confines of his brain. your face, fingers, the dip and curve of every facial feature, and how the lighting kisses your skin and hair.

"how's it like? being a total genius?"

you were rather familiar with all your classmates, just curiously getting to know the mysterious musical prodigy, dazai osamu. it was a work period, and everyone in class already begun to slack off, especially since there was a supply.

and you knew that the lanky boy was eerily quiet when the school's athletic hotshot, Chuuya Nakahara, wasn't around. so, asking stupid questions won't exactly result in stupid answers, or so you thought.

"why? wanna be like me?" — he smiles teasingly, tilting his sharp jaw in your direction. "don't think someone who cries in the snow can do it, sorry." you freeze up and scoff, slightly embarrassed from the former interaction you had with him. "dick." a peaceful but awkward silence fills the air between both of you before the boy clears his throat awkwardly. "But i'd be willing to talk about it if you let me bother you at lunch.?"

the question itself caught you off guard. looking around at the chattering students, "i—" the brunette backtracked, hiding his face slightly with gauzed fingers. "Actually!—I am going to bother you. you're friends with chuuya, aren't you?" you shrug, eyes fluttering to the ground, "..i guess so, but i don't eat with him or his friends."

A breathless chuckle slips past the prodigy's lips before covering his mouth softly, completely ignoring you, "alright then, see you anyway, crybaby."

he hates himself for not knowing what to do with you, but he loved you more to let hate consume him, like usual. dazai wanted you; he didn't know what yearning was until he saw pieces of you in sunsets, rain and snow. he's felt destiny with his childhood friend, chuuya nakahara. but he's never felt something so desiring, pining — like he wanted to be with you every day. and maybe one of those days he'll feel you without the stupid gauze wrapped around his fingers. maybe one day he can hold your hand without the excuse of dragging you somewhere new. maybe one day, dazai will figure out how to ask you to be his, how to love you, because he's sure you're the one he wants to love.

"ahh, wait.."

you cock a brow at his shocked face, grabbing onto your sleeve as if the prodigy were reaching for the stars.

"I wish I were a painter, instead." the boy pouts, holding your sleeve childishly, pulling a chuckle from your throat, "why is that, huh?"

dazai's eyes, ever so empty and unfilled, now gleam, pretty and gentle. Softly reaching out to part a strand of hair behind the shell of your ear, gazing up at you feverishly. "usually, I'm so prideful about these things, photography.."

The prodigy clears his throat, his fingers threading through soft strands of hair tucked behind your ear. "But your eyes, they are really pretty." Your lips part bashfully surprised, overcoming your ability to move.

The boy continues as if his mouth was switched on autopilot: " So I wish I could paint them instead. I guess just looking works, too, though."

He smiles cheekily.

all you ever knew was noise,

but you, Dazai Osamu, had that kind of silence to keep you awake at night. Whether that'd be holding hands in a snowstorm, or the few moments he'd stare into your eyes.

Little did you know, that was the moment he fell in love. Or rather, the time it took him to realise you don't fall.

That love has grown before you can even realise it.

✧ chocsra™

[spookychick78]

Final Girl

We’ve Only Just Begun - Epilogue

Michael Myers X AFAB!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,083

A year later

Normal looked good on Michael. It was something that had taken awhile for her to get used to. The first few times she came home to see him dressed in anything other than coveralls, milling about the kitchen or asleep in an actual bed was strange, but pleasant. However, it wasn't an easy journey that had led them there. She often thought back to the nights they had spent hidden in less than accommodating places, worried that they would be caught and awake to find themselves without each other. The farther they got from Haddonfield the more they felt at ease. Michael was unrecognizable to the outside world without his mask on. It had been years since his days at the sanitarium so no recent photographs existed of him. Adjusting to life unmasked was not an easy task for him. It had become so much a part of his being that shedding it once and for all was like shedding his own skin. Sharing himself and who he was with her had been the first step and she didn't mind being his guide to the rest of the world. She sat beside him as he allowed his face to become known. People passed by one by one, unaware that the handsome man they were looking at was one of the most prevalent killers known to man. To them, he was normal. His story was something locked within only him and her, one no one but them would ever know. She watched as he began to enjoy their oblivious gaze, it was something he had never before experienced. To be average was comforting to him. Once they were far enough away from their hometown she had taken measures to alter her own appearance just enough to hide in plain sight alongside him. Nights became less frightening for her as the weeks went by and their capture never came. Seasons changed and they slowly but surely began to build a somewhat normal existence together. It almost made her wonder if everything before really had been a bad dream. A nightmare she never bothered to revisit.

She came home to find the house empty. Michael wasn't usually out long anymore, not since he had abandoned his old ways. She looked at the TV and decided to sit awhile, something she rarely did anymore. She was never bored enough to bother with it these days, but alone time was something she had finally learned to enjoy again. Michael had taken so many steps to heal it was only fair she did too. Being alone had been her greatest fear since her days in that room, but now, she had someone she knew would never leave her wondering. Her thoughts never strayed into that dark place anymore, it had become fiction. A scary story trapped within the lines on a page that could no longer physically reach her. She had become invincible to her past.

She turned the dial, but couldn't find anything interesting enough to grab her attention. She left the news on as background noise and plopped down on the couch. She looked out the window and gazed at the passing day. Leaves were blowing by and autumn was slowly creeping into their new town. She could see the neighborhood children sitting across the street carving a pumpkin. She smiled to herself as she watched them. She could finally say she was just has happy as they were with life. It was finally simple.

Words started to trickle into her ears, forcing her attention to the woman's voice on the TV. Her head slowly turned to see a familiar face painted on the screen.

"It's been years since your fateful encounter with Haddonfield's most feared killer. As a surviving victim, what would you say to him if you knew he was listening right now, Ms. Strode?" A news reporter questioned as he held the mic out for her to answer.

Laurie paused for a moment, considering her words carefully, "I would say I want you to come back. I dare you to."

(Y/n) leaned forward, intrigued. She knew exactly who Laurie was speaking of.

"And why do you want him to come back? Aren't you afraid he might?" The reporter pressed.

"He will," Laurie's gaze shifted directly into the camera, as if she was looking right into their home, "And when you do Michael, I want you to know that I'll be waiting. I will be the one who ends you. So come home."

The room buzzed with energy around her, a kind she knew too well. She could feel she was no longer alone and she wasn't the only one who had heard Laurie's words. She didn't have to turn to know he was behind her, standing ever so still in the doorway. She knew what he was feeling, she also knew he would stifle it if she asked him to. They had worked so hard to cover up their past to get to where they were now, but maybe this wasn't who they were, maybe this life was the mask. After all, she had had her final girl, who was she to stop him from getting his?

He watched as she stood silently and moved to the chest hidden in the corner of the room. She opened it and dug deep until her finger tips grazed a familiar material. She carefully pulled it out of its hiding place and brushed the dust that had collected off of the white rubber. As she held it, she felt not fear but acceptance. As if it was confirming without words this was their path, it may have been darker than other’s, but they would walk it together to the end.

She turned and moved towards him, the mask guiding her to Michael like a magnet to metal. She stopped in front of him and grabbed his hand. She placed it on the face in her hands and looked up at him.

"It's time to go home, Michael."

[citrineghost]

Struggling to stay organized because you have ADHD?

Well, I have a fantastic solution for you! There’s this bitchin site called Trello and I’m gonna tell you all about it

This is not sponsored, I just really like organization and Trello is awesome. And, as always, no readmore because this is targeted at ADHD people and y’all ain’t gonna click it

[ID: a picture of a website with many columns/lists. Behind the lists, there is a customized background. To the right is a sidebar showing that you can search Unsplash for backgrounds right from the site. Each column/list has a bunch of ‘cards’ on it. The cards each have a title and color coded label(s) /end ID)

Here’s a picture of my to-do board

There are some things blacked out, mostly just my avatar, name, and some original creative stuff I don’t feel like broadcasting.

So, Trello is broken up into different levels of organization. Let’s start with the most important level: boards.

Boards

A board is what’s pictured above. Think of it like a corkboard where you pin your notes. You can make as many of these as you want. You can title them, invite people to them, automate certain parts of them, and more.

On your board, you can make

Lists

Lists are those columns you can see on my board. You can title each list, click and drag them around to reorder them, set them to automatically label the things on them, and so on.

My lists on my to do board are titled with a time period for when I aim to do something. The time periods are large and vague, which makes them great for my ADHD. I can move things between them as I need, which is also great for my ever shifting brain thoughts. 

But! What makes it great is that whatever I put in the left list, titled Next, I know is what I need to be focusing on at the moment. It makes it easier to ignore what’s to the right of it and let’s me relax knowing I won’t just forget everything I’m not prioritizing.

Lists are used for holding

Cards

(ID: A picture of a small window that opens after clicking on a card. It contains the title, the labels (with their names now visible), and a functioning checklist. There is also a place to type a description, a place to add comments, and a list of buttons on the side for managing the card and its place on the board /end ID)

Each card can be as simple as containing just a title (making it a simple entry on your list), or as complicated as housing photos, descriptions, checklists, labels, and comments. You just click the card and it opens the window shown above.

My card is for a tabletop I’m working on, nicknamed TAP. I have it labeled with all of the things pertaining to what it involves (world building, writing, in progress, spreadsheeting, and art/creative). These color coded labels make it easy to see what kind of cards I’m looking at when looking at the overall board and lists.

As I do things on the checklist, I can mark them off. You can even set it to hide completed items on the checklist.

When I’m done with an item on my to do list, I click and drag the card to the Done list (which is offscreen on the far right). If you don’t want a visible Done list, you can also just archive a card and it will disappear from the board.

You can also set due dates on cards, which will notify you when they’re almost due or when the due date arrives.

Customization

One of my favorite things about Trello is that you can customize the appearance of your boards! My ADHD brain can’t stand looking at the same thing constantly, so it’s great that I can change things up. Each board can have its own design too, so you can match the vibes of the board with the appearance.

You can pick from a bunch of solid colors for your board or you can use the connection Trello has with Unsplash to search and select free stock images provided by photographers.

Other Parts of Organization

Not only do you have boards, lists, and cards, you can also make Workspaces, which are basically categories to sort your boards into. If you use Trello for projects, and have a board for each project, you can sort your boards into a Projects workspace.

There is also a function called Butler, which you can use to automate boards. For example, you can set it to automatically create a card called “Pay Rent” at the start of each month.

On the right, in the same sidebar where you can see the background options, there’s also an activity feed, tracking every time a card is moved, commented on, added, archived, and so on.

Team Work

Not only is Trello great for keeping private boards, you can also invite people to them! That makes it incredible for household management, group projects, or even friend groups who feel like storing plans and personalized memes. You can literally use it for whatever you want and in whatever way you want!

ADHD Applications

So, now let’s get down into the specifics of how this is great for people with ADHD.

You can make as many boards, lists, and cards as you want.

This is a big one for me, because I really struggle with websites that limit how much you can do with one account and force you to make multiples and then juggle multiple logins and so on. Start a new project? Make a new board. Follow your heart. Be free. If you end up giving up on it, just delete it, or store it for later. You can Star the boards you actively use and just use the Star list to access the boards you need, so if you star all your active ones and then ignore the unstarred, failed projects, you can leave them to rot or abandon them until the mood strikes again.

You can organize in a way that works for you.

So many organization applications are made to work one way and that can be really difficult to navigate as someone with ADHD. So many people with ADHD have such specific needs in regards to how they organize that it can be really hard to find something that works. Half the time we end up just scrambling around from application to application, cursing them as we go because one has one thing we like, but it doesn’t have the thing this other one has that we like and nothing ever seems to just work.

Trello makes it possible to personalize how you organize and even change how you organize halfway through. I keep my to do list organized in 4 priority levels with the addition of a Pin list and a Done list. You could also:

Keep a list that works as a calendar, with a card for each entry, organized in order of date

Keep a list of reminders where automated weekly/monthly/yearly responsibilities pop up

Jot down reminders as you think of them

Keep lists of school assignments in the order they’re due

Use descriptions and photo uploads on cards to collect information or resources needed for said assignments

Keep lists of information that’s easy to forget or lose track of on paper like address history, work history, references, contact information, and so on (like I’ve done on my ‘Pin’ list)

Use boards for projects, to keep track of things like resources, due dates, meeting times, sending files between classmates or project partners, and so on

Use boards for planning events like weddings, parties, conferences, school dances, or whatever else you’re into

Collect resources, references, or recreational to-dos (like links to fanfiction you want to read)

Literally anything

You can separate everything onto different boards, making everything visible from the titles of cards, or combine it all into one, with lots of information available on a click

The sky’s the limit

You can automate repeat tasks.

ADHD comes with a lot of forgetfulness when it comes to regular tasks, such as weekly appointments, medication reminders, and a yearly charge for your Nintendo membership. You can put that stuff into your calendar, but that can also be tricky because then you have information spread across multiple platforms.

Just as easily, you can set Butler to make new cards with reminders on them.

There’s probably more but I have ADHD and I forgot

Just think of the possibilities!!

I used to get debilitatingly stressed out because I would have 10 things floating around in my head because I was simultaneously trying not to forget them and also stressing about them and I would make what I call “spaghetti lists” where I would list all the things I’m thinking of, just as a way to calm down and know that I won’t forget them, so that my brain could quiet down.

Since starting this board, I haven’t had to do that once because all of the things I’m afraid of forgetting are already listed, even if they’re on the list titled ‘ ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ‘ because idk if they’re ever actually gonna happen.

It can be incredibly stressful to see all of your to do items in one place, but since starting this, I have been less stressed overall, because I now know I can find them all in that one place. Learning to manage and cope with the stress of knowing I have a lot to do is easier than forgetting things and then realizing I’m late on something or things just never happening because I never remember them when I’m in a place where I can work on them.

And when you have everything in one place to reference when you have some executive energy, you can suddenly just start doing things. I have them labeled by type so I can go, “I’m in the mood to draw,” and then check all the dark blue labels for creative projects. It makes everything so much easier.

Anyway, I hope this is helpful to some of you, it’s genuinely been life changing for me

[blonde-freckles]

And darling I will be loving you 'til we're 70

He can feel the building begin to shake under his feet before it comes down. He only has a split second to dive under the closest table, with barely a moment to check his surroundings before it happens. The room shakes, windows rattling as the walls come crumbling down around him. It’s all a blur, thick dust clouding his vision. He can hear the screams echoing out across the building before it falls to silence, he’s trapped encased in rubble and dust. He hears the faint squeak of his radio struggling to pick up a channel through the collapse.

He can feel the panic starting to crawl up his lungs as he shifts his weight, so he's no longer holding it all on his knees.

He’s half way through calling in his location when Hailey’s voice cuts off the radio. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? What the hell Jay? I thought you were waiting.” He can hear the desperation in her voice as he squeezes his eyes shut trying to control his breathing.

“I’m okay...really, it’s barely a scratch. I’m just a little stuck right now.” He lets out a shaky breath before pulling the radio close to himself, he’s not sure who’s he’s trying to convince, himself or Hailey. “I thought...I thought I could talk him out of it.”

He really thought he could. He thought he had this. There was something about military cases that stirred something up in him, something no amount of hour sin therapy could ever fix. His need to help his brothers. The belief that what they’d seen bonded them in a way that would never be able to be broken, and no matter how many times he got burnt by this belief he never gave up trying.

The radio falls silent but he knows she’s there, he can hear her quiet breaths through the radio. “Fire is on the way Jay.” Her voice is quiet and controlled and in full work mode but all Jay can hear is her quiet breathing. This morning he’d spent the first few minutes of his day just watching her breathe, his arms wrapped so tightly around her, their legs tangled under the soft white sheets as the sunlight filtered through. Their warm little bubble, so safe and secure.

“Help...” A quiet voice breaks out drawing Jay's attention, it’s faint but he can hear it. “Help me please...”

His eyebrows furrow as he tries to work out the direction the pleas for help are coming from. He makes out a small gap in the distruction where the light is filtering in, carefully he reattaches his radio to his duty rig, shuffling down on his stomach, he pulls himself forward through the gap.

A steel beam lays across an elderly gentleman's legs, he looks late 70s maybe, with light grey hair now covered in dust, his hands holding tightly around the beam desperately pushing against it.

“Sir...” Jay jumps into action, crawling faster as he makes his way through the gap. “Sir are you all right?”

His brain kicks into work mode, shutting off any lingering thoughts on not making it out of here alive as he assesses this situation. The mans bleeding pretty heavily, his legs crushed on the beam that might be the only thing stopping him from bleeding out. It’s far too heavy for Jay to lift or even try to shift, instead he manages to use his belt as a makeshift tourniquet.

He calls through the radio, listening intently as Brett comes over the air waves to get an idea of the gentleman’s injuries. When Jay does manage to finally slow the bleeding the radio crackles back to silence and Jay looks down at his blood stained hands, wiping them on his jeans in the hopes the gentleman won’t see just how much there is as he sits beside him.

“You’re a detective you say?”

“Yes...erm sorry I never got your name.”

“Arthur Brady...I would say nice to meet you but...” The man half chuckles as Jay gives him a short nod wondering how he could be so chipper in a moment like this, surely he can feel the extent of his injuries, even if he can't he can definitely see the severity of the situation.

“Whatever you do Jay keep him talking until we get there.”

Bretts words echo in his mind.

“Arthur...Arthur talk to me...tell me what brought you here today.”

Time seems to tick by slowly, the faint crackle of Jays radio fading in and out every so often. Fire had arrived, but it was gonna be a long wait until they could get to them. The building was not on steady ground and the aim was to get as many people out alive as possible, however long that took. Hailey's voice had only come through the radio once more in that time, just to say the bomber's body had been pulled from the wreckage near the exit...he hadn’t made it. In the meantime Jay continues to probe Arthur with more questions in the hope it will keep him awake, but he’s also glad for the distraction that it provides him. Sitting still, having nothing to do...that’s never been Jay's speed. He learns that Arthur was at the bank to get some cash out for his granddaughters 21s birthday, he has two daughters and a son and 6 grandchildren. He was a wedding photographer for 47 years before he retired 10 years ago.

“My wife Katherine...oh she’s beautiful. You know we’ve been married 53 years this year..." Arthur explains as he pulls a worn leather wallet from his top pocket, handing it over. Jay could see the old photo inside, it’s slightly faded but he can make out the image of a bride on her wedding day, the vail thrown back over her hair to reveal her smiling brightly at someone behind the camera.

"So what's the secret to making it work?" Jay questions, his gaze falling back to his own phone and the photo of Hailey that lights up his background. He’d dragged her along on a hike a while back, with the promise of getting doughnuts after. She’d been laughing at something he’d said as the sun went down behind her, making her blonde curls glow and he’d snapped the pic before she’d had a chance to protest.

"Marry your best friend. Marry someone you can laugh with. The kind of laugh that makes your belly ache, and your nose snort. Marriage is hard. Life is harder. There are days when you'll wanna walk but as long as your relationship is buried deep in friendship you'll always find your way. You think you might know someone like that?" Arthur asks with a slight twinkle in his eye as he nods towards the phone in Jay's hand.

Jay nods, a soft smile growing on his face as he runs his thumb across the photo on his screen, handing Arthur back his own photo. “Yeah I think I do...and she’s almost guaranteed to be just outside this building right now, she’s gonna be so pissed at me for being here.”

“I don’t think Katherine will be too happy either...will you...will you tell me about her?...what’s her name?” He nods down towards Jay's phone again.

“Hailey.” Jay whispers softly, he can already see her arms folded across her chest, tapping her foot impatiently on the street, eyes trained on every person emerging from the wreckage. Honestly what he wouldn’t give to hear her knowing tone telling him that she’s sick of hospital waiting rooms right now.

“She sort of came out of nowhere, I wasn’t really looking for anything when we met, actually...there was someone else when we met. I couldn’t even tell you the moment everything changed...trust me I’ve tried to work it out but it’s just like one day she was my partner and friend and the next she was the one person I could never live without. I remember looking over at her years ago and thinking I could lose all this...this job. This job that I’ve let define me for so long but it wouldn’t matter as long as I was with her.”

“Sounds like you’re in deep...How come you’re not married?”

“Oh we haven’t been dating that long...I...we still have some things to figure out.” Jay swallows, if he’s honest he’d marry Hailey tomorrow. He’d have married her six months ago given the chance. As soon as they started dating he knew he couldn’t ever imagine spending his life with someone else. He knew it a week in, he’d come in from an early morning run to find her sitting on the kitchen island coffee cup in hand, his t-shirt hanging loosely on her body as she read the morning news. She’d handed him his coffee without so much as a second glance and he’d known in that exact moment. It had taken everything in him not to get down on one knee right then and there.

Things had changed since their first I love you, he was even more careful with her. He didn’t want her to be overwhelmed, he wanted to help her in any way he could. She was trying, really trying and she had gotten good at letting him know when she felt flustered by their relationship, when she needed space or when she needed reassurance. He was all too happy to comply, he was happy to do whatever it took to make this work.

“Don’t waste time...not with the people you love.” The sad look on Arthur’s face like he’s almost defeated makes Jay think the elder man might be close to giving up as his eyes flicker shut briefly.

“Tell me more about Katherine.” Jay urges, he wraps a hand around Arthur's wrist, checking his pulse as he does. It’s weak.

“She’s the dream. I was a New Yorker you see, born and bread...was only here for a wedding 54 years ago when I saw her through the window of a cafe”

“And you knew right then and there?”

“God no.” Arthur begins to laugh but it turns into him choking as he struggles to catch his breath. “I don’t believe in love at first sight. Love...real true love takes work and a lot of it. You’ve got to choose that person every single day.” He croaks out, his eye sparkling as he recalls the memory in his mind. “What I did know was she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. I was a young man at the time, full of a confidence I had no real right having.” Jay chuckles, he’s been there, the cocky confident guy in his 20s thinking he knew it all. “I could never have known the love that would’ve formed, so deep it almost shook me to my core. I’d never been in love before, but I’d seen others, especially in my line of work and then I got it, I got why people behave the way they did. I remember thinking if this is what love feels like I get why it starts wars.” He’s words trail off and Jay watches the way his head drops slightly.

“Hey, Arthur...Arthur we’re almost out you hear me. Stay with me now Arthur. Katherine is waiting, she's still waiting for you.”

“Will you tell her...”

Jay shakes his head furiously. Leaning up as he twists his radio, calling out for an update. “No no...I’m not going to pass on any messages.” He mumbles, grabbing hold of both Arthur’s shoulders. “You’re gonna tell her Arthur...Katherines waiting for you.”

“You tell her I loved her and that she made my world a better place.” He mutters before his eyes roll back and Jay begins to bark down his radio desperate for anyone to respond.

It is only seconds later the loud ringing of a drill sounds and Kelly Severide’s voice echoes around them. Jay can feel the relief flooding through him as the familiar uniform comes into view.

-

“Jay...” The bright sunlight is a stark contrast from the darkness he’d been buried in the last few hours, the buzz of the scene hitting him is almost deafening as he hears orders being shouted out. “Jay...” Hailey’s voice stands out amongst the noise. As he steps out away from the building, he’s ushered past the destruction zone and he can hear Brett asking him to sit but he’s too focused on finding Hailey as he scans that area.

He hears more commotion behind him watching with bated breath as Arthur is pulled from the rubble, he’s attached to a bodyboard, as the next set of paramedics rush to his aid.

He doesn't even see her approach before he feels her arms wrapping tightly around him, he releases a breath he’s been holding since the building first blew as his arms wind themselves around her waist, he sticks his face into the side of her neck letting the wisps of blonde that’s fallen loose from her ponytail tickle his face as he does. They’ve never been ones for any type of public affection, while they’re on the clock anyway but right now he can’t bring himself to care. He breaks away after a while, already missing her touch but he knows they have an audience. He watches as they lower Arthur down onto the gurney wheeling him their way.

“Is this her...is this your Hailey?” He coughs, struggling as they place the oxygen mask over his mouth.

Jay can see Hailey glance his way, shooting him a silent question. “Yeah, this is her.” Jay nods, crouching down closer to Arthur.

“I’m gonna go get Katherine okay? I’m gonna bring her to you Arthur so don’t go anywhere.” Jay grips hold of Arthur’s hand, making sure the man sees the sincerity in his eyes as Sylvie lets him know that they need to move now. “Take care of my girl and I’ll take care of yours okay?” Jay asks, glancing back at Hailey who’s just watching silently.

“Deal...”

He steps back letting them get him into the ambulance as he turns back to Hailey. He can see from the look on her face she has a lot to say and he’ll happily listen to everything but just not right now. “Hey I’m okay I promise I’m okay and I'll sit and get a full checkout at the hospital just to please you but first I have something to do, please just trust me and keep Arthur company until I get to the hospital.”

“Erm sure okay...”

Jay smiles as she agrees without question, pressing a firm kiss on Hailey's forehead surprising her before he’s rushing off through the crowd without another word.

-

Hailey loses sight of Jay almost as quickly as she finds him, her heart is still thumping in her chest as she tries to keep reminding herself that he's alive, he’s alive and safe and doing whatever the hell he does. She'd done as he asked, joining the man he'd been pulled from the rubble with into the ambulance.

The ambulance roars into life and she watches as the elderly man begins to pull down his oxygen mask much to the dismay of the newest recruit to 51, his hand shaking as it reaches out for Haileys.

She takes his hand in hers. It’s cold but it squeezes onto hers tightly. She’d heard the tail end of their conversation. “You take care of my girl...I’ll take care of yours.” She’s not sure what Jay has planned but she trusts him, no questions asked.

“That man loves you more than life itself dear.” Arthur croaks and the tears that she refused to let fall in front of all their colleagues finally fall, splashing against her cheeks, his words catching her off guard.

-

The E.R is a mess, overrun with victims from the blast, no one can tell her anything as Arthur is rushed off for surgery, she’s not family, she has no right to know. So instead she takes a seat in the corner out of the way of the chaos.

She thinks she might be dreaming when he finally emerges through the doors, still dressed in his blood-stained clothes, an elderly woman holding tightly to his arm as he leads her through the crowd and towards the front desk. His eyes find hers quickly like he doesn’t even need to search for her, he just knows where she is and the small smile that plays on his lips as their eyes meet is enough for her.

-

It’s hours later when Katherine and Arthur are finally reunited. Jay helps Katherine towards his room, stopping in the doorway as Hailey hangs back. She’s still not sure what the infinity with this couple is but she’ll go along with it if that’s what Jay wants.

“That’s gonna be us one day.” He mutters quietly as the door slips shut and he steps back out into the hallway. Hailey raises her eyebrows in surprise as Jay makes his way around her, his arms encircling her waist as he leans his chin on top of her head. Both of them watching the elderly couple through the window. The way Katherine caresses Arthur’s face as he presses a kiss to her hand. The look of pure joy to see each other is so evident in their faces.

“Minus the major bleed and building collapse I hope.” She hums, leaning back into his embrace, finally feeling at ease as the weight of the day seems to slip away.

He nestles his face into her neck, pressing a light kiss to her skin. “I make no promises...”

“Hey...” she laughs, shaking her head as she places her hands on top of his, she can feel his lip quirk up into a grin against her neck and it makes her own lips turn up. “How are we going to grow old together if you keep being so reckless?”

“That’s what you love about me.”

Hailey turns in his arms, slipping her arms around his waist, one hand stroking his back softly. “I assure you it’s not...but I do love you.” She whispers the last part, she still struggles to say the words but each time she does it feels a little easier, like the words that were once so dark get a shade lighter each time she says them or hears them fall from his lips.

She watches as Jay takes a sharp breath, before resting his forehead against hers, closing his eyes softly just breathing her in. “I’m gonna say something. It’s not a question it’s just a thought...okay? I’m giving you fair warning for when the time comes.”

Hailey narrows her eyes but nods anyway, letting him pull her to the side as the hallway becomes busier. “I love you...you’re my best friend and...”

“And?”

“And I’m gonna marry you one day.”

Her blue eyes widen for a second and Jay bites down on his lips to stop the smile that comes every time he looks at her. He can see the thoughts whirling through her mind like waves crashing around the ocean. He feels her arms squeeze his waist a little tighter before she simply shrugs. “Okay...” she mumbles , laying her head back against his chest as she turns her gaze back towards Arthur and Katherine. They stand there for a moment in silence and he wonders if she can see what he can...a glimpse at their future. His thoughts are confirmed when he feels her lips pressed to his cheek curling up into a smile against him. “Okay...I’ll marry you one day.”

[hacked-by-jake]

In case no one has formally asked you yet, a part 3 of Jake being hot for 1 minute straight? 😄 I'm seriously addicted 🙈

Love your work, dear!! ❤

Headcanon

Summary: And another 25 things that show how hot jake is.

> Part 1 / > Part 2

A/n: First of all, thank you very much for your sweet words! @dreamer-writer-fangirl❤️ I am very happy that you like it and I hope that this part is just as good.🥰

And also many thanks to you, dear Anon. I’m very happy that you want a third part.❤️

So, thanks to the wish for a third part, we are here. This time it became a little more difficult to find things so that’s why it’s only 25. But I hope it’s okay anyway. 😅

Same as always: excuse the mistakes.

So, Have fun, stay healthy and take care of yourselves.❤️🌹🎭

Jake is a night person, and he has infected you a little bit with it. You have this particular place on top of a building in Duskwood where you’ve spent tons of romantic, funny, passionate evenings. You just love to talk about everything that comes to your mind. Being open and honest.

Jake will help you cook a lot. You always listen to loud music, dance (ok, mostly just you), tease each other, laughs, sings the lyrics aloud, and sometimes it ends with you not getting to finish the food

Jake sometimes uses really bad flirt attempts, he knows they are bad but he finds it far too amusing. 'Do you believe in love at first sight or should I come in again?' - 'We should go showers together, that saves water" even if he makes fun of it, you love these little jokes.

If something doesn’t work the way Jake wants it to work, sometimes he gets pretty pissed off. He then looks for your closeness every time, just wants a hug or a kiss and distracts himself with you.

Jake has a habit, sometimes, when he want to tell you that he loves you, that he asking you before if you want to hear a secret and whispering it in your ear afterwards.

Jake always kisses your forehead twice before he falls asleep, even when you’re already asleep.

Since Jake doesn’t like to go swimming when you go to Duskwood’s lake with the group, you once went swimming together in the middle of the night (A/n: I think I want to write a OneShot about it lol) Only the light of the car has given you light and you have spent hours at the lake.

Jake has the ability to notice when you’re having nightmares, whether he’s in his study or sleeping himself. He’ll wake you up and calm you down. He will always suggest you to talk about it and will always listen to you no matter how tired he is.

Jake hates arguing with you, and luckily you don’t argue much. But once, when you were really fighting, he became totally hysterical and panicked. He was afraid that this argument would escalate even further, but he was able to end the dispute quickly, even if it was accidentally. He suddenly asked in the middle of the conversation, 'If you keep yelling at me like that, can we go outside?' You were completely perplexed and looked out the window where it rained terribly. When you pointed him out, he replied, 'I know, but at least I get a melodramatic movie moment,' you couldn’t stay serious and had to laugh, just like him. You both apologized and then calmly talked about the problem.

Since you’ve been a couple, Jake loves to go to another place for a few days, just to experience something new with you. Sometimes it’s just a weekend, sometimes several days, you decide spontaneously and don’t think about where you are going.

Jake usually wants you to choose a movie because he’s afraid you might not like the movie he chooses and you only agree because you want to do him a favor. You really have to force him to pick out a movie, and he’ll keep asking you if this movie is okay with you.

Jake is always afraid that something will happen to you if you use a knife while cooking. When you’re on a ladder, he’s afraid you’ll fall. If you don’t let him help you, he’ll turn away so he won’t have to look at you. If you want to walk across a street, he’ll double-check if a car comes.

No matter what time you get the idea, if you want something from McDonald’s or a pizza, or even if it’s just an ice cream, no matter what it is, Jake will go with you and get what you want.

When you used to lie on your balcony at night and Jake came out so you could go to bed, you said you could lie here all night. So Jake took the mattress of your bed and all the pillows and blankets you have and slept on the balcony together. You’ve been doing this often since then.

Jake had a necklace made especially for you, the pendant is his mark, the eye. Even if strangers do not know that it is his sign, he always makes sure that it hangs over your top and can always see himself that you belong to him.

Jake has a list of all the things and places you’d like to see. he wants to make it possible for you to see all of it.

Since Jake is much more active at night than during the day, you experience most things together at night. Wander around, go to dinner, exploring the city at night while sharing headphones and listening to music. Or rocking on a playground at night.

There’s a flower delivery service in Duskwood. And sometimes Jake orders flowers for you there and sends them to your apartment. When it sounds and you open the door, Jake will watch from afar how you rejoice when another bouquet of your favorite flowers arrives. He will always send small messages with the flowers. Simple things like 'I love you' or 'you look beautiful today'

Jake loves photos of you, preferably those you didn’t expect to be photographed. Jake loves taking pictures of you secretly. If you’re focused, while reading a book, drawing, or just scrolling through your Instagram feed. Sometimes you don’t even know that he took a pictur. He also loves pictures where you laugh. When you are out with the group and you laugh at something, he secretly takes pictures. Actually, at all times.

At the beginning Jake had a hard time taking pictures on which you are both on, but over time he has learned to love it more and more. Most of the time you don’t see him completely on photos, mostly only half the face or not at all. Sometimes when you take a picture of yourself, Jake uses the situation to sneak up on you and kiss you. On the cheek, on the forehead, your lips. Or just hugging you from behind and hiding his head in your neck bend.

Jake sometimes changes his background image several times a day, either it’s a picture of you or one of you both. But he cannot decide and therefore changes constantly, because he finds that all images are worth seeing.

That’s why you can watch Jake sometimes while he's unlocking his phone or looking at his computer and starts to grin when he sees the pictures. Even though he sees you every day, it makes him very happy.

You always have a serie you only watch together, when you have finished one, you look for a new one.

Sometimes it takes a long time in the morning to get out of bed. When you wake up and Jake’s still with you, sometimes you’ll spend another two hours only with cuddling. You just lie down, talk, spend quiet time together where none of you say anything. Well, and sometimes there are other reasons why you can’t separate from the bed.

Regular pillow fights or tickle attacks. If you just lie on the sofa or in bed, and you tease each other, it can lead to pillow fights that take on an insane extent or just like tickle attacks that often lead to sex.

Masterlist

[cherrynojutsu]

Title: Like Silver

Summary: A companion series for Like Gold.

Sakura misses him so much. She misses the faint smell of woodsmoke and sage, and mismatched eyes captivating in their intensity and unfathomable depths. The Rinnegan is beautiful, soft lavender ringed by hypnotizing layers of circle and tomoe, but flecks of silver dance in his right, tiny asterisms bewitching in nature, if one gets close enough; she’d first noticed it when they were children at the Academy. She knows they're Itachi's now, a slightly different scattering of luminaries aglow in the deep pitch of obsidian, but they're still as enthralling to her as they had been back then. She dreams of that silver sometimes, recalls it any time she sees something similar in color or reflet.

Blank period, canon-compliant, Sakura-centric, some expanded plot points from Like Gold, fluff and pining, eventually becomes a smut fest with feelings.

Disclaimer: I did not write Naruto. This is a fan-made piece solely created for entertainment purposes.

Rating: M (eventual nsfw-ness)

AO3 Link - FF.net Link - includes beginning/ending author's notes

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Chapter 1/?: An Introduction to Electrocardiography

Sakura gazes out the window of her office, a pile of paperwork set aside for a poetic sort of procrastination, trying to indulge for once in a Konoha spring, though she's finding it arduous.

As pretty as it is this time of year, all she can manage to feel is wistful.

Hanami has come and gone already for the most part, though there are a few stubborn cherry blossom trees lingering at the tail end of their blooming. She can see one here from her window, up on the hillside that slopes towards Hokage Rock, clinging to the uneven land. She’s sure its roots have to be all twisted, a labyrinth of gnarled wood clinging to any scrap of land it can wind itself around as its branches and petals try against all odds to reach upwards into the open sky that she can’t take her eyes off of.

There’s a metaphor in there somewhere, but it’s one she doesn’t care to unpack.

This year was her twentieth viewing of her namesake, though Sakura obviously doesn't remember the first few. Her parents take great pride in the retelling of tales from those first few years of her life, the ones she was too little to remember. The highlights come up annually on her birthday without fail, how she grasped at the petals like they were something precious, clutched in her sticky little hands the entire day.

A framed photograph is perched on one of the built-in shelves of her parents' living room, of her and her father on her first birthday. He was holding her up on unsteady legs, ridiculously proud and pointing towards the camera where her mother had been trying to get her to look. Her short pink hair was flying absolutely everywhere, matching the fluttering petals and in-bloom cherry blossom tree in the background, chubby hands grasping upwards. Strawberry cake and frosting were smeared all over her cheeks. They’d had a picnic for her, at the park nearest to their house.

“We came home and cleaned you up, and then your father helped you water your tree for the first time, in the little pink watering pail you unwrapped earlier. You were so cute.” That’s what her mom says every year. Sakura has the sentence memorized at this point, could recite it on cue, if she needed to.

Her parents had planted a cherry blossom sapling in their backyard a few days after they brought her home from the hospital as a newborn, so the tree is around the same age she is. She used to spend time under it often, as a kid, and some of her earliest memories involve sprawling beneath it to study the heavens while her mother gardened. She would also sneak berries from the patch when her back was turned. Sometimes her dad would join in her pilferage, and they would sit beneath the tree like a couple of bandits with stained lips, though those first few years she can remember he barely fit underneath it, as tall as he is. Many a tickle fight had been had, shaded by those branches. She would read books there on nice afternoons, when she was a little older.

The tree is fully grown now, also on the final cusp of its blooming for the year, floriferous wood expanded outwards to drape her childhood stomping grounds in a sea of soft pink. They have a picnic under it every year, in her family’s backyard, when they celebrate her birthday together. Her actual birthday has come and gone, but her birthday dinner is two days from now. Her parents swung by her apartment on Sunday afternoon for a bit with outlandishly large cupcakes, but her mom had mentioned they’d do dinner and a gift on their usual night, Thursday, since it works so well with their schedules every other week.

“We have to have your picnic, under your tree, like always. It’s a tradition! My beautiful girl. I can’t believe you’re twenty. It seems like just yesterday you were only yay high,” her dad had told her, gesturing below his knees before hugging her too tightly, ruffling the hair she'd inherited from him before they left. The cupcakes were strawberry with cream cheese frosting, one of her favorite treats. They’d left her with four extra to enjoy between then and Thursday, one for each day if she wanted it, turning her birthday into more of a week-long affair than a one-day celebration.

She and Ino had demolished two of them while watching some of the terrible movies they love to hate together, later that evening. It had been a smorgasbord of strawberries, really, because they'd washed them down with strawberry daiquiris, sugary sweetness topped with ridiculous amounts of whipped cream. They'd sat on her balcony, after, sipping a little tipsily and just looking.

"You should try to enjoy your namesake more this year, Forehead. You're so busy that I'm not sure you've realized, but you've really grown into it," Ino had said, beckoning vaguely towards a Konoha beginning to bloom, renewed with a warm breeze, spring ushered in by a fluttering of pink petals. Ino likes to give compliments in roundabout ways, she’s learned over the course of their friendship; crass as the blonde can be, she does have her moments. Her words meant a lot to Sakura, so she’s trying to take them to heart, to stop and smell the cherry blossoms, so to speak. It won’t be long before Konoha crescendos into the sweltering heat of the summer.

She loves her parents and her friends. She really does.

But birthdays are weird, Sakura thinks.

Last year, Sasuke had sent her a letter on her birthday. She’s reread it so many times that she has it more than memorized; it’s stitched into the muscle tissue of her heart at this point, or maybe scarred into the lining of her aortic valve, sempiternal markings adorning the tunnels that sustain her, causing her breath to catch every time.

Sakura,

Hanami has come to the wilderness in the Land of Honey. Bees are awakening and foraging for the first pollen of the season, with which to begin again. Cherry blossom petals are everywhere, lining the pathways and floating on the water.

Happy birthday.

-Sasuke

It had been short, simple, and even a little poetic; she had cherished it, as she does all of his other letters. She’d cherished the pressed flower with it just as much; a cherry blossom, neatly flattened with a precision that screamed Sasuke, near exactly the same shade of pink as her hair.

Sakura had started crying when she unfolded the paper to reveal it sitting atop his words. His hawk had waited patiently at her office window for a response to be written and tied to its leg, perched atop the windowsill and watching the goings-on of the village below, absolutely no concept in its predator brain of how much she delights in seeing it fly, a graceful tether to the boy - now man - she has been in love with for ages.

Cherry blossom petals are everywhere. Is there a hidden meaning there, or is she making a mountain out of a molehill?

She’s tried not to read too much into the letters. She's not sure if he sends any to Naruto or not; she's too afraid to ask, because she'll either get a heart-pounding hope if he doesn't get them, or a soul-crushing disappointment if he does. She can't imagine him sending a yellow flower to Naruto, but he may very well have sent him a different gift for his birthday.

Maybe he just thought she would like a flower, which she did - it’s pressed for safekeeping, along with all of his other correspondence to her, sporadically and chronologically throughout a book she keeps on her nightstand, An Introduction to Electrocardiography. It is her take on an album of small things she holds close to her own heart, things she wishes she could read in his. Sakura didn’t want to buy an actual album for such a thing; that felt too formal, for something as ambiguous as her ties to Sasuke, overflowing on her end as they may be. So she’d settled on a book about deciphering the heart’s tells based on science only, electrical impulses and repolarization, the sizes and positions of the chambers, how to diagnose conditions utilizing one’s findings. It’s one she doesn’t need access to anymore, extremely familiar with EKGs after years of study. She’d wanted it to be something no-nonsense, all hard facts and data on how to read activity plotted over time.

Evidence-based. Are letters evidence, though? She’s not sure that would hold up as empirical proof in any of the scholarly journals she’s studied or submitted work to since beginning her research. She thinks wryly, though, based on what she has witnessed get published, that scientific verification doesn’t always matter if you know the right people.

She’s thought many times sifting through it that perhaps it is too optimistic, too hopeful of a book subject for such a thing. Sakura has agonized over it, frankly, wondering whether it was an inappropriate choice.

...But now that they’re in there, it might ache worse to move them somewhere else.

It’s the last day of March now, and she didn’t get a letter this month, which is unusual, because she’s gotten one near each month in the time that he’s been away. She’s paged through the book a few times over the past several days, rereading and admiring the preserved sakura blossom, frozen in suspended animation indefinitely on a page about precordial leads.

Sakura hadn’t really expected anything from him for her birthday, other than a monthly letter like he usually sends... but this year she didn’t even get that. She’s trying really hard to not be disappointed. She has so much to be thankful for, in the grand scheme of things...

...But the petals of the cherry blossom from last year have faded over time, she’d evaluated yesterday, sitting in her bedroom. It might be like her, always pressed in a book, fading whilst stuck indefinitely between the boundless teeth of academia. There is always more data to record, more evidence, with which one can prove or disprove their findings.

No letter this month, though. Nothing to record, no new evidence.

It might be time to move the letters somewhere else, she thinks pensively. Maybe a place where she’s not tempted to look at them all the time; their placement in the book, small scraps of paper that stick out in only a couple of places, makes it easy to go back and reread them. She’s pretty sure she has an empty shoebox in her closet that she could move them to, in a pile rather than catalogued between pages rife with information and a fragile sort of hope. Maybe she’ll do it tonight, put it up in the far right corner of the upper shelf, shoved towards the back so she can’t reach it without the stool, so she’s not tempted whenever the next bout of heartsickness slams into her like one of Tsunade-shishou’s fists used to. She needs to go by the library after work first, to return some things, but maybe when she gets home, she’ll do it. She could eat a cupcake, too; that might make it a little easier.

Sakura misses him so much. She misses the faint smell of woodsmoke and sage, and mismatched eyes captivating in their intensity and unfathomable depths. The Rinnegan is beautiful, soft lavender ringed by hypnotizing layers of circle and tomoe, but flecks of silver dance in his right, tiny asterisms bewitching in nature, if one gets close enough; she’d first noticed it when they were children at the Academy. She knows they're Itachi's now, a slightly different scattering of luminaries aglow in the deep pitch of obsidian, but they're still as enthralling to her as they had been back then.

She dreams of that silver sometimes, recalls it any time she sees something similar in color or reflet. There’s an extremely unique necklace in an antique shop she visits with Ino and Sai from time to time, and occasionally on her own, over on the northeast side of town. It’s a salt-and-pepper diamond, dark grey with inclusions, dainty and set in what must be a hand-fabricated setting. It hangs from a silver chain, towards the back of a display case filled with other vintage and distinctive pieces, but it’s the only one she ever finds herself drawn to. It is so similar to his right eye, dark smoke near black, speckled with beguiling silver startling in its clarity. The bevel cut reveals new flecks dependent on the angle at which you view it.

Sakura studies it closely on each visit, because it is so hauntingly breathtaking and it reminds her of him.

Ino has said it’s not her color, and that she should stick to warm tones and gold, for which she is better suited; Sakura has not confessed to her why it catches her eye so much. Sai has agreed with his girlfriend on the coloring note, sensitive as he is to such things, but the way he studies her every time she tears herself away from it makes her suspect he knows exactly why it captivates her so. It’s been sitting there for years at this point; she has to mentally talk herself out of buying it on each visit. It’s beautiful, but she would spend far too much time gawking at it, and it might hurt more with extended study than the gentle tugging at her heart she experiences when she’s in that old building throughout tiny fragments of lackadaisical afternoons.

Sasuke has been gone for a long time. She hopes he's finding the peace he's been seeking, that he's seeing the world with new eyes just as he'd imagined. She thinks of him every day, sends out little orisons like petals in the breeze in the hopes that they’ll find him, wherever he is.

I wonder where he is now.

Try as she does to enjoy the breath of spring Konoha is right now, and her namesake as Ino said, all she can seem to do is shift her vision to the sky, hoping against hope for a glimpse of a familiar bird-of-prey that will stay an ample amount of time for her to craft a response, before it abvolates away for another month.

Sakura smiles, then, close to laughing at the absurdity of it all, because she is so predictable. She loves this village despite its many flaws and challenges, despite the things about it she and Naruto and Kakashi-sensei and Ino and even Tsunade-shishou, off in the Land of Wind, are trying to change, but even after so many years, she’s still pining for something beyond it, something in the wilds of the sky just beyond her reach.

There’s always next year, she supposes, pupils drawn again towards the outstretched branches of the cherry blossom tree on the hill, before trailing her eyes along further. She can grow a little more to try to reach him. When she was little, she had wanted to grow tall so she could try to touch a star, like the branches of the tree in her backyard did when she and her father laid beneath them on balmy summer nights. He would tell her ridiculous stories about all of the constellations, things she knew had to be untrue, even at the ripe age of five. Precocious, he’d always called her, but in the loving, joking manner he had.

Her gaze follows the horizon, leisurely taking in the rest of her home. It really is a lovely day, despite her yearning. Spring is here again, and today's is a gentle sunset, one last little bit of sunlight with which to conclude March. The temperature is already spiking, unusually warm for early spring, but summers in the Land of Fire are always hot. She really should finish her paperwork, but it’s hard to find the motivation just yet.

Something possesses her, then, to turn her neck more, take in more of the skyline's continuation. She wants to see all of it.

And then Sakura’s eyes fall on an achingly familiar figure cloaked all in black, perched only a roof away and observing her, and she thinks she must have nodded off, because she has to be dreaming.

She subtly pinches herself in the millisecond of time that follows, but she is very much awake.

The words are blooming out of her throat before she can even process what’s happening, exultation sinking into her every vein. “Sasuke-kun!” She moves to crank her window open the rest of the way, and he hops from the neighboring roof down into her office, all nimble legerity that she still thinks has to be a mere mirage conjured from her memories. When he straightens to his full height, she muses that he has to have grown taller. The mere sound of his footsteps on the tile flooring, as familiar a refrain to her as if he’d just walked out of the village yesterday, are a treasure beyond price.

“Sakura.” His voice is a rich timbre that she has desperately felt the absence of; hearing him say her name almost makes her want to cry. She smiles wider instead, to the extent that it almost hurts, and her gaze latches hungrily onto the very eye she was just daydreaming about. A storm of soot and silver, beveled into countless fragments like some kind of dark, rustic diamond, and so staggeringly beautiful that she’s pretty sure she’s blushing just from beholding it. Gods, it's not fair for someone to be so handsome.

“When did you get back?” She asks, utterly overcome with joy. This is better than a letter or any birthday gift she could have received, brighter than any star she’s beheld.

“Just now.” He’s smiling, a small and subtle upturn of lips that is so characteristic of him. Then his words hit her, and her face must be getting redder.

Just now? As in…

“I’m sorry I missed your birthday,” he adds before she can simmer on that for too long, and she has to blink in bewilderment, because that is the absolute last thing she expected him to say. Sakura wonders how much heat can creep into one’s face before they spontaneously combust.

Then she realizes she should probably respond, as humans tend to do in conversations. “Oh! Um… it’s okay.” She folds her hands in front of her shyly, grinning like an idiot. “Thank you for remembering.”

There is a lengthy moment in which she just soaks him in, hoping he can read in her eyes how much she’s missed him. He is still so beautiful, prized eyes and aristocratic angles that have solidified a bit more into the face of a man in the time that’s passed. His hair is different now, covering his Rinnegan eye. His cloak is a little more threadbare, too. He’s tall.

His expression, normally unreadable, is calm. Content, even.

There’s a question nagging at her that she knows she needs to ask. She tries not to bite her lip as she asks it, braces herself for the possibility of not liking the answer.

“Are you… just back for a little while?”

Did you find what you were searching for?

He gazes at her for so long that she thinks he may be glimpsing her soul, peeking into her ventricles to see his own words immortalized there, seared into her core to be felt each time her blood pumps.

“...For more than a while.” And she smiles the biggest she ever has. Oh, this is so much better than a letter or a gift.

“Well, welcome back, Sasuke-kun. It’s… very good to see you again.” It feels as if a piece of her heart has been returned to her, something of the divine stitched back into her chest and full to bursting in omneity.

There is a pause, and then he’s reaching his hand out towards hers, initiating physical contact with a touch that is feather light, so gentle she thinks she is going to start sobbing.

She can’t help it; she pulls him into a hug, tinged with elation. She hopes he doesn’t mind too much; he stiffens for a brief moment, but then settles, wrapping his arm around her and settling his head atop of hers, and she could die happy right there, embracing him with feelings momentarily set free from where they’ve been whelved into her chest.

He smells faintly like sage and smoked cedar, just as she remembered. She can hear his heart thumping, a strong cadence, and it grounds her. Oh, she’s missed him.

“...I’m home, Sakura.” Soft words float above her head, and she can feel the vibration of them through his chest, right by her ear.

Oh, she’s crying.

Sasuke lets her embrace him for a long time, for which she is so grateful. She knows he’s not one for physical contact; it’s a privilege to be allowed into his space even for a single second, let alone for an extended period.

She draws back eventually, glancing up at him again through the tears still collecting in her eyes. Her face blazes when he reaches to wipe them away tenderly with a calloused hand, careful and with a lenity that she’s always known was there, hidden under the surface.

She could just stare at him for hours, she thinks as he lowers his hand. He’s still looking down at her with one of the softest expressions she has ever seen him wear. She really hopes she’s not dreaming.

It’s tremendously hard to get it together, but she tries, because she doesn’t want to spend the entire time crying, not when he's finally back. There are so many questions she’d like to ask him that she’s finding it a challenge to pick one with which to lead.

He surprises her by speaking first, quietly. “I… had something made for you.”

It takes a moment for the words to compute.

Made for me?

Her processing speed must be exceptionally slow, stuck in the utter mush her insides have become, because he adds, “...For your birthday.”

Sakura blinks, and furrows her brows in confusion. “Made… for me?”

He nods. “...I’m sorry it’s late.” The way he speaks it is cryptic, like the apology weighs more than one needed for a tardy gift. Doesn’t he know she doesn’t care? He could have showed up in July with something for her, and it still would have made her knees weak and her heart thump furiously in her chest.

Made for me? She’s still stuck on that sentiment as he breaks eye contact and turns to rummage through his satchel, beneath his cloak.

Sasuke pulls out a medium-sized flat box, a simple white, and she doesn’t know what she expected, but it wasn’t that. Something that comes in a box is a lot more formal than a pressed cherry blossom, something more… permanent.

She reaches out to take it on autopilot, and is stupidly distracted by the way his hand brushes against hers, a small spark that makes something in her quake. She wonders if he felt it, too.

Sakura clutches the box with both hands like her life depends on it, murmuring softly, “Thank you, Sasuke-kun.” She’ll wait until later to open it, after he’s left; whatever it is, she doesn’t want to embarrass him, and she also isn’t sure she can tear her eyes away from him just yet, anyways.

Is it just the lighting in her office, or are his ears a little flushed? She didn’t notice that before; maybe he’s had a drawn-out journey back. She wonders how much ground he covered today, if he’s still winded. He might need to rest.

But then he mumbles, voice husky with what she assumes is disuse, “...You should open it.”

His words echo in her head again. I… had something made for you.

“Okay,” she answers in a hushed voice, so she doesn’t scare him away, shifting slightly to set the box on her desk carefully. Suddenly she is very nervous, anticipation settling into her gut.

When she lifts the lid, she swears her heart ceases beating.

The most exquisitely intricate uchiwa fan she has ever laid eyes upon is placed in the box before her.

It’s carved into a likeness of a cherry blossom tree, branches twisting lissomely into bamboo framework, impossibly fine. A different set of words is reverberating in her head now.

You should try to enjoy your namesake more this year, Forehead. You're so busy that I'm not sure you've realized, but you've really grown into it.

Made for me?

“O-oh.” Sakura is not sure what she expected, but it wasn’t this. She fights back the tears, biting her lip and wide eyes soaking it all in, enjoying her namesake in a way that is entirely unprecedented in its sheer severity. The amount of time it would have taken for someone to sculpt and bind and sew is unimaginable; every detail is finely wrought, flawless down to the silk and stitching, lacquered and carved pale wood shifting effortlessly into eighty slivers of bamboo, intricately webbing silk together with the lithe grace of gossamer. It’s a cherry blossom tree, petals and all, pearlescent thread shifting slightly, gorgeously in the light, unimaginable detail. She has stitched people back together countless times over the course of years, but even her expert dexterity would look like a child’s first embroidery stitching in comparison. The stamen within the petals are nearly more detailed and finely milled than an actual, real life cherry blossom, plexure sutured in a fashion so baronial that it’s impossible to believe human hands were even responsible for it.

The silk. Oh, the silk. The color shift bears a striking resemblance to the Uchiha insignia. This is not a gift one gives to a teammate.

Oh, she's crying.

This has to be a dream, some kind of paracosm her heart thought up to give her brain the high of a lifetime. Hope burgeons and unfolds in her chest cavity, bleeding into her extremities like the pale pink shifting into red before her eyes. She’s never, ever going to forget this, not even if she lives to be one hundred years old.

Made for me?

She picks it up with disbelieving hands, grasping it more carefully than she’s ever held anything in her entire life, as if she’s going to wake up at any moment and it will dissolve into synapse, lost in the hazy juncture of morning the way one tends to lose awareness of the contents of a dream upon coming to lucidity. To her absolute bewilderment, it stays solid in her hands, a finery made even more unbelievable by touch. The grooves of the carving are as gentle as his hand had been on hers earlier. She thinks it would have had to be commissioned at least a few months in advance, outlandishly expensive. She’s never seen silk like this. She doesn't know; she's smart, but she's no artisan. Maybe she should ask Sai. She's crying.

She adores it.

Tears won’t stop welling in her eyes; she thinks they may be escaping from a tender spot inside her chest that’s been reserved for him since she was a child, a leak in a metaphorical dam. She takes a steadying breath, blinks, almost has them conquered. Get a grip, Sakura.

Then Sasuke’s hand is on hers, gently turning the handle over.

Her name is carved into the pale wood, on the back in formal calligraphy, Sakura daintier and more perfect than she could ever write it, as if it had just been uncovered in one of the inner layers rather than whittled there manually. Sasuke presses her fingers to it before loosening his grip, and in that second it feels as though his lost hand is in the wood, caressing her from split atoms in the grooves from the other side.

The tears spill over her cheeks - she admits defeat - intricacy of the entire thing blurring out of focus but still somehow burned into her retinas for all eternity.

Made for me, made for me, made for me-

Her voice finds her after a few more tears fall. “It’s beautiful.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, overwhelmed with complete and utter awe, trying desperately to choke down a sob. “Thank you, Sasuke-kun. I… I’ll treasure it. Always.” She cradles the fan closer to her chest, her heart - maybe An Introduction to Electrocardiography wasn’t a poorly-chosen book, after all; there is much to be read from something this precious - and regards him with watery eyes. She wishes she wasn’t crying; the distortion of the tears is making it hard to see the silver she’s loved and missed so much.

His hand lifts to her face after a moment, and to her surprise, he wipes away her tears again. She barely catches the something-more in his eyes, then, through the waterworks, precious metal flashing and pouring into the words scarred into her ventricles to live there forever, fortified in silver, but he is looking at her so -

“...Always,” he agrees, voice a little breathless, sparking scintilla near hypnotizing her in their luster, and he seems so happy -

Then he leans down to press his lips gently to hers, and this is better than her heart stopping, like when she opened the box. This time, her heart soars, and she touches a star she’s been dreaming of for eons.

[introvertguide]

Chinatown (1974); AFI #21

The next movie that we reviewed was a very dark example of neo-noir film directed by Roman Polanski, Chinatown (1974). This film was a throwback to very dark crime thrillers that reflected the outlook of a Great Depression followed by world war. Polanski was experiencing a very dark period since he had just moved to America to get married and immediately lost his wife and unborn son in a horrific murder. The film was well received by critics and audiences, but it could not stand against the award winning juggernaut which was The Godfather Part 2. Polanski’s film was nominated for 11 Academy awards but only took one home for best original screenplay, a category that didn’t include The Godfather Part 2. It is hard to describe how incredibly down beat this film is without spoiling too early, so let me give the breakdown with the standard warning:

SPOILER ALERT!!! THIS IS A MURDER MYSTERY SO THE PLOT IS ABOUT TO BE WELL SPOILED!!! IF YOU WANT TO SEE THE FILM FIRST, NOW IS THE TIME TO STEP AWAY!!! COME BACK AFTER YOU SEE THE FILM!!!

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In 1937, a woman identifying herself as Evelyn Mulwray hires private investigator J. J. "Jake" Gittes (Jack Nicholson) to follow her husband, Hollis Mulwray, the chief engineer at the Los Angeles Department of Water and Power. Gittes tails him, hears him publicly refuse to create a new reservoir that would be unsafe, and shoots photographs of him with a young woman, which are published on the front page of the following day's paper. Back at his office, Gittes is confronted by a woman who informs him she is the real Evelyn Mulwray (Faye Dunaway) and that he can expect a lawsuit.

Realizing he was set up, Gittes assumes that Hollis Mulwray is the real target. Before he can question him, Lieutenant Lou Escobar fishes Mr. Mulwray, drowned, from a reservoir. Under retainer to Mrs. Mulwray, Gittes investigates with suspicions of murder and notices that although there is a drought, huge quantities of water are being released from the reservoir every night. Gittes is warned off by Water Department Security Chief Claude Mulvihill and a henchman (Roman Polanski) who slashes one of Gittes' nostrils. Back at his office, Gittes receives a call from Ida Sessions, who identifies herself as the imposter Mrs. Mulwray. She is afraid to identify her employer but tells Gittes to check the day's obituaries.

Gittes learns that Mulwray was once the business partner of Evelyn's wealthy father, Noah Cross (John Huston). Over lunch at his personal club, Cross warns Gittes that he does not understand the forces at work, and offers to double Gittes' fee to search for Mulwray's missing mistress. At the hall of records, Gittes discovers that much of the Northwest Valley has recently changed ownership. Investigating the valley, he is attacked by angry landowners who believe he is an agent of the water department attempting to force them out by sabotaging their water supply.

Gittes deduces that the water department is drying up the land so it can be bought at a reduced price and that Mulwray was murdered when he discovered the plan. He discovers that a recently deceased retirement home resident is one of the valley's new landowners and seemingly purchased the property a week after his death. Gittes and Evelyn bluff their way into the home and confirm that the real-estate deals were surreptitiously completed in the names of several of the home's residents. Their visit is interrupted by the suspicious retirement-home director, who has called Mulvihill.

After fleeing Mulvihill and his thugs, Gittes and Evelyn hide at Evelyn's house and sleep together. During the night, Evelyn gets a phone call and must leave suddenly; she warns Gittes that her father is dangerous. Gittes follows Evelyn's car to a house, where he spies her through the windows comforting Mulwray's mistress, Katherine. He accuses Evelyn of holding the woman against her will, but she says Katherine is her sister.

The next day, an anonymous call draws Gittes to Ida Sessions' apartment, where he finds her murdered and Escobar waiting for Gittes' arrival. Escobar tells him the coroner's report found salt water in Mulwray's lungs, indicating that he did not drown in the fresh water of the reservoir. Escobar suspects Evelyn of the murder and tells Gittes to produce her quickly. At Evelyn's mansion, Gittes finds her servants packing her things. He realizes her garden pond is salt water and discovers a pair of bifocals in it. He confronts Evelyn about Katherine, whom Evelyn now claims is her daughter. After Gittes slaps her (a lot), she tells him that Katherine is her sister and her daughter; her father raped her when she was 15. She says that the glasses are not Mulwray's, as he did not wear bifocals.

Gittes arranges for the women to flee to Mexico and instructs Evelyn to meet him at her butler's home in Chinatown. He summons Cross to the Mulwray home to settle their deal. Cross admits his intention to annex the Northwest Valley into the City of Los Angeles, then irrigate and develop it. Gittes accuses Cross of murdering Mulwray. Cross has Mulvihill take the bifocals at gunpoint, and they force Gittes to drive them to the women. When they reach the Chinatown address, the police are already there and detain Gittes. When Cross approaches Katherine, Evelyn shoots him in the arm and starts to drive away with Katherine. The police open fire, killing Evelyn. Cross clutches Katherine and leads her away, while Escobar orders Gittes released. Lawrence Walsh, one of Gittes' associates, tells him: "Forget it, Jake. It's Chinatown."

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I really cannot emphasize how much of a bummer ending this film has. It is right up there (down there) with Sophie’s Choice. A man who pays to dump water so that he can purchase cheap farm land, kills his partner who threatens to tell, and rapes his own 15-year-old daughter is the antagonist. In the end, he is released to take custody of his young granddaughter without punishment after the police shoot the daughter that he raped. The investigator who tried to help and solved the mystery is left with no say and a slit nostril for his troubles. Polanski later said in interviews that he wanted to emphasize the futility of trying to find justice in Los Angeles. Both his life and this movie really proved that as a fact. It is funny that the screenwriter who won the academy award wanted Cross to die and Evelyn to live, but Polanski insisted and the dark tone is what pushed the award in their favor.

There was some discussion about finding an actor that was willing to be the lead with a bandaged face or prosthetic injury for most of the movie. It was still all about face time and dialogue, so most lead actors didn’t want to cover up their face. Nicholson was not actually known for his good looks as much as other actors, so he was more willing to take on the role. Actually, it was Nicholson who wanted to work on a project with Polanski and suggested the script in the first place. Also, Nicholson really connected with Polanski at the time and was not afraid to play dark roles. Jon Huston was not as keen on the heavy pedophile incest role since he had a lovely young daughter of his own (actress Angelica Huston). It turned out to be a good choice for all the actors involved.

Something that came up during the viewing with my housemates was reactions to the scene when Jack Nicholson is slapping Faye Dunaway when she is admitting that the girl she visits is both her sister and her daughter. She keeps alternating between “she’s my sister” and “she’s my daughter” and each statement is punctuated with a slap in the face by Jack Nicholson. It is supposed to be deeply serious and a major reveal in the movie, but we were laughing so hard at the absurdity. It was truly unrealistic and more of a trope of film noir than anything else (slapping a hysterical woman). It truly was a throwback to 40s and 50s style Hollywood and some of the standards of film story telling at that time were a bit silly. 

I have reviewed this move in more ways than I thought because I realized on this viewing that the video game L.A. Noir borrows very heavily from this film. So many aspects, from the locations to the situations to the soundtrack, were all put into the video game. I have spent many hours of my life playing through that game a number of times and I am shocked each time. I am curious if Rockstar Games had to pay any money to Roman Polanski for such a close similarity to the film? I tried to look it up but didn’t find anything, so probably not. 

So should this film by on the AFI to 100? For sure. It is an Old Hollywood story about even older Hollywood. It stands out as one of the darkest endings that I have ever experienced. It has major star power and surrounded by amazing stories of Hollywood. Would I recommend it? I sure would. It is a great trip around old Hollywood with some of America’s greatest actors. I think just as interesting is the story of Roman Polanski (who I did an article on as well) and why his head space was so dark during the production of this film. Definitely worth a watch and a background deep dive.

[yxunggcher]

- 𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘬𝘢 𝘹 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘧𝘦𝘮! 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

chapter 11

Y/N

Today I was supposed to make a shit ton of desserts for my bake sale and Jemila was helping me out. I put her in charge of making the cookies and cherry cheesecakes and she went over to Kageyama's house with the supplies so that it could be done faster. Tanaka was knocked out in my room while I made the cake and donuts. I was mixing the cake batter in a pan while the donuts were frying. I had some music playing in the background as I hummed to the tunes.

I was about to add the cake mixture into the pan when I felt someone's arms being wrapped around my waist. "Good morning," a hoarse voice whispered in my ear. "Good morning," I smiled. I turned around and saw Tanaka shirtless, with his volleyball shorts on. Damn... "You need help?" he said. "Yea, but put a shirt on and go wash your hands, please," I said, scraping the batter out of the glass bowl. "Yes, ma'am," he said, walking back to my room. I placed the cake pans in the oven and started making more dough for the donuts.

Tanaka came back to the kitchen, and I explained to him what he could do. I taught him how to roll the dough and use the cookie cutter. After a couple of minutes, he was actually doing pretty well and things were going by much quicker. We spent the next two hours making donuts and cakes and when we were finished, the kitchen was an absolute mess. We were both covered in flour and food coloring. I dusted the flour off Tanaka's face and he dusted the flour off mine.

Kageyama and Jemila came back with all the desserts and everyone helped me load them into the trunk. After we got all the food in the trunk, I went to take a quick shower. I put all my flour-covered clothes in the hamper and got in the shower. I did my business and did a little extra so I would smell nicer. I put on my lotion and my clothes and went to the kitchen. Everyone else was still getting dressed and I was looking for the cat food so I could feed Almond. Then the doorbell rung. I put Almond's bowl on the floor and went to open it.

I swung it open and there were 2 girls standing at the door. One of them had frizzy black hair in two ponytails and had on this cute pink sanriocore themed dress. The other girl had a light grey lace front and she was wearing a grey top with matching baggy pants. She had a small chain across her nose and she had an industrial piercing. "Are you Y/N?" the girl with the grey hair said. "Yes...?" I said, confused. "Oh, we're your new business partners," she said. At first, I was confused then it hit me. "OH. Are you guys Amie and Angelique?" I asked them.

They both nodded and smiled. "Oh you're supposed to show me where the bakery is right?" I said. "Yea. Koharu told us to come here," the girl with the pink dress said. "Okay wait, who's Amie and who's Angelique?" I said, shaking my hands. "I'm Amie and this is Angelique," the girl with the grey lace front said. "But you can call me Angie," she smiled. "Oh okay,"  I nodded my head. "Okay well let me get my stuff then we can go," I said. I ran back to my room and got my phone and my bag. "TANAKA," I yelled. He came into my room, dressed with his outfit suspiciously coordinating with mine. "Nigga- ok," I said.

"I'm about to go see the bakery, do you wanna come?" I said, tilting my head. "Nah. I'll stay here, when you come back, I'll take you out," he smirked. I nodded my head and smiled. "See ya later, my dude," I said. "Y/N, I'll kill you," he laughed. "Try it," I said, shutting the door before he could respond. I went outside and Amie and Angie led me to the bakery. Surprisingly, I had passed it a million times and hadn't even noticed. "THIS PLACE IS OURS?" I said. "Hell yea. Koharu did what she had to do," Angie said. "Damn," I said. The bakery was right next to Sakanoshita Market which meant I would probably be seeing Coach Ukai a lot more now.

The bakery was literally amazing. There was like a light blue theme and everything in the bakery was either painted or colored a pastel light blue. "But there's one problem," Amie said. "Which is?" I said, tilting my head. "We don't have a name," Angie said. "We'll come up with one. It'll come to us one way or another," I said. "Well, when do we start working?" Amie said. "Well, who's the boss here?" I said. "Technically, Koharu since she owns the place but without her presence, it would be me," Amie said. "Okay well I got a million desserts in my car," I said.

We then made a plan. Kageyama and Jemila were gonna pass out the fliers Tanaka made earlier around school that there's a new bakery in town. Then everyone from school will come down to try the new desserts. Then we asked Koharu to come down here to tell us all about the schedule, how things would work, etc. I learned a lot about Amie and Angie, including how they would be transferring to Karasuno High next week. Finally, some more black females.

We had just finished arranging all the desserts into the freezers and displays when we started getting a few customers. This first girl came in and she looked so much like someone I knew. She had short, blond hair, long eyelashes and she was wearing this black tank top. I couldn't put my finger on who she looked like but I just brushed it off. "My brother told me to come and check out this place. Could I get a cupcake please?'" she said, in an energetic voice. Brother? "Sure," I smiled and I gave her a red velvet cupcake in a light blue box. "Thanks, Y/N," she winked at me and left. Wait, how the hell does she know my name?

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion as she left. Then in my head, I put the pieces together. Brother. Familiar face. Y/N. "Ain't no way I just met his sister," I said. I went on my phone and called Hinata. I waited for the line to ring and it clicked. "Hello?" his cheery voice said on the line. "Hey Shoyo, does Tanaka have a sister?" I said. "Yup. Saeko," he said. "Does she have short blond hair and long eyelashes?" I asked. "Yes...?" he said, most likely confused. "Okay thanks," I said. "Bye," he said and hung up the phone.

Koharu had made her way over to the bakery and helped us out. She told us we would be switching days meaning after school and on weekends, except for Saturdays. I would be working Mondays and Wednesdays after school, Angie got Tuesdays and Thursdays and Amie got Fridays and Sundays. Tanaka and Kageyama said they would help out whenever they could so for now, everything was inset. Tanaka picked me up from the bakery and I grabbed a red velvet cupcake for him. I exchanged socials with Amie and Angie and got in the car.

"Hi," I smiled. "Hey," he said. I handed him the cupcake and put on my seatbelt. He opened the box. He took a small whiff of the cupcake and his eyes instantly lit up. I laughed and he pulled out of the driveway. "So where are we going this time?" I said. "Fair," he smirked. I nodded my head and leaned back in my seat. I was looking out the window as I dozed off. Something about his car was so relaxing. Whether it was the pleasant aroma of sandalwood or Tanaka's presence itself.

I woke up when I felt my body being lifted. I opened my eyes to see Tanaka carrying me out of the car, bridal style. He put me down but my legs wobbled, causing me to almost fall on the ground. "Woah there," he said as he grabbed my love handles. He kissed my forehead and held me until I fully woke up and could stand on my own. "Thank you," I said, pecking his lips and grabbing my bag from the car. Tanaka took my hand and led me into the carnival. There were a lot of people around so I held onto his hand tightly.

We paid for our tickets and we started going around the park. Tanaka and I were both what you would call daredevils and we went on every single ride in the park. By the time we finished riding everyone, it was now dark out. "Wanna get some food?" He said. I nodded my head and we went to look for a booth. They didn't have any places that sold actual food so we just got a huge roll of cotton candy to share. Then this man came up to us and asked if he could take a picture of the both of us. At first, we were hesitant, but he showed us his Instagram page and he seemed legit. He had all this equipment and he got me and Tanaka into a pose.

Tanaka looked at me, holding the cotton candy as I looked down, taking a piece. The photographer took a couple of shots and showed us the pictures. They actually came out pretty good. He followed us both on Instagram and said he would share them with us. He also gave us his number in case we wanted pictures taken in the future. We thanked him and we continued with our trip. It was very dark outside and all you could see was a few lights here and there but the illuminating glow of the Ferris wheel stood out to me. "Let's go on the Ferris wheel,"  I said.

"A little cliche don't ya think," he said. "Oh shut up," I said and I took his hand and led us to the Ferris wheel. We got on and it started going around. As it went higher, I saw Tanaka fumbling with his fingers. "You okay?" I asked, taking his hand in mine. "Yea, I'm okay," he smiled. The Ferris wheel was going in circles at a slow pace and of course, as soon as we got to the top, it jammed. "We'll get it up and working in a minute, guys," someone yelled from the ground.

𝗢 𝗠 𝗡 𝗜 𝗦 𝗖 𝗜 𝗘 𝗡 𝗧

You sighed in distress and laid your head on Tanaka's shoulder. He wrapped his arm around you. The scenery was relaxing and tranquil so it wasn't all that bad. "Y/N," Tanaka called your name. You had closed your eyes and were half asleep. "Y/N, thank you so much for being my peace. I have no idea how I lived my life without you and in these past few weeks, you have truly been my everything. Thank you for that," he said. Tanaka kissed your forehead, not realizing that you had heard everything that he had said.

↭

Tanaka was now driving you back home and you were about to doze off until you got a notification on your phone. The photographer had sent you both the pictures he took earlier. You smiled at the picture and chose one. You posted the picture to your Instagram and dozed off.

[number5theboy]

Wow. Your ask queue has gotten pretty serious today. So I thought about asking you some fun questions as a positive distraction (hopefully). 1) If the UA sibs were throwing a party what would their duties be? 2) 3x5 childhood head canon (since nobody talks abt them) 3) If the UA sibs went to college what majors would they choose?

Dearest Anon, you cannot believe how nice I think this gesture is, I really appreciate and cherish this ask so much, thank you, thank you, thank you.

1) If the UA sibs were throwing a party what would their duties be? 

Allison and Five are in charge of the booze. Both of them know their cocktails and how to mix, and Allison also pulled off enough birthday parties for Claire to know well-tasting, colourful non-alcoholic drinks. They go wild o the decorations, definitely having too much fun with the little paper umbrellas, and Five enjoys playing bartender on the evening (I’m imagining a party in the mansion here) while Allison entertains. Vanya and Luther share the responsibility for both music and food. Luther has absolutely incredible taste in party bangers, but is hopeless with putting together a playlist that doesn’t horribly clash with itself, so he picks songs, Vanya adds some and puts them in the most entertaining order possible. They also put together bite-sized appetizers in the kitchen the entire day leading up to the party, grooving to the playlist made from songs they rejected from the party playlist. Diego helped them out for half the day, but Vanya and Luther have the tendency to make dad jokes, and after a while, Diego couldn’t take it anymore. In the evening, Vanya and Luther put together the sound system, Luther easily carrying the heavy equipment around and Vanya knowing what to do with it. At one point, Luther was carrying a speaker with Vanya perched on top of it, giving commands on where to put what. If you then turn around, you find Team Decorations, Diego, Ben and Klaus. Klaus clearly put his entire heart and soul into the aesthetic of this party, and definitely picked an extravagant and accidentally genius theme, like ‘80s Gothic’. Diego will not admit it, but he did scour the entire house for objects to add to the decoration, and Ben just resigned himself to make sure they had things like cups and plates, but also definitely got a disco ball. So Klaus, Diego and Ben are busy the entire afternoon to put up neon Victorian-style decorations which clash both more and less than expected with the inside of the mansion. Ben uses the tentacles to put garlands up high, just as Klaus manifests ghosts to hoist him up to places where he can’t reach. Diego’s powers help him put up a tower of glasses perfectly. The decoration is wild and fun and everyone’s really happy with it. Ben, Luther and Vanya share the role of photographer for the evening, and they catch a lot of fun family snapshots of the evening. Allison and Five grinning widely behind the bar, little paper umbrellas tucked into their hair. Klaus and Luther on the dancefloor, trying and failing to gracefully remember their Paso Doble lessons from childhood, in the background Five is looking on in horror from behind the bar. Diego and Ben, absolutely mastering the Paso Doble. Vanya, with fluorescent fake cobwebs on her head and Allison in the background, holding up two fingers at the back of Vanya’s head. Luther bear-hugging Diego and Ben. Klaus, his cheeks round with appetizers, making him look like a chipmunk in a very cool skirt. A selfie that Vanya took sitting at the bar, with Five grimacing behind her. Okay I got very much carried away with that idea, I really love it!!

2) 3x5 childhood head canon (since nobody talks abt them) 

Allison and Five, my darlings. I don’t think they were that close growing up, but I think Five must’ve been extremely fascinated by Allison’s powers, as they bent reality. Reginald noticed this interest, and thus used Five the most as a guinea pig to push the limits of Allison’s powers, also because Five had the strongest own will as a kid, always talking back, so cutting him down was in Reginald’s interest. At first, Five was quite intrigued, but Reginald really drove Allison and thus him to the brink, and afterwards, the two of them would sneak up to Allison’s window, just escaping for a bit. They would softly talk about anything but training, sometimes trailing to the future. The last time they did that, before Five got lost in the future, they were thirteen, and they talked about having kids of their own one day. Five, seeing how Reginald treated them, could never imagine having children, but Allison sometimes talked about wanting to have kids one day. It was a conversation replaying in Five’s head when he read Vanya’s book for the first time, and found out that he had a niece he never got to meet, a niece that died along with everyone else, a niece that Allison just have love more than anything in the world. This got sad. Whoops.

3) If the UA sibs went to college what  majors would they choose? 

Oof, that’s always difficult. Luther might do astrophysics, but I can totally see him do botany or English literature as well. Actually, it’d be cute if Ben and him both did English literature, but maybe Luther switched majors at some point, getting Ben to dramatically call him a traitor every time they meet in the university corridors. Diego might do criminology, or social work, but I also see him not go to college at all and rather learn manual work. I have a soft spot for smith Diego, ngl, I think it’d be cool if he could make his own weapons. Also I know he went to police academy in show canon, but just no. Klaus definitely went to college, both for the experience and to test out how much he can push the American education system. He probably did courses like gender studies and might have annoyed Diego in criminology, but totally took some straight white boy classes just to rile people in there up, like economics, business or western philosophy. He genuinely makes friends with at least three frat boys. I know Vanya would go for a violin degree, but after Season 2, I really love the idea of her studying to become a special needs teacher, with a focus on teaching autistic children. Allison definitely did drama, but I love the idea of her also doing media management to get to know the behind the scenes of the entertainment industry, so she can manage herself. And Five honestly could have gone for anything. Clearly, quantum physics is something that fits him well, but I think Five could find interest in almost anything. He could also do languages, in my opinion, or anything with engineering.

[velvetthunder1999]

Sweet Collision

1. The Photograph

Summary: When Liz gets a hold of some serious evidence against the infamous druglord, she is afraid and doesn’t know what to do. Will there be anyone, who will be able to help her?

Warnings: Occasional swearing

Word count: 2.7K

Javier Peña x Reader

Episodes

“Shit!” you said as you looked at the clock and realized that you were already late. “Fuck!”

You ran to the bathroom and brushed your teeth with incredible speed. You grabbed your bag, shoved a sandwich and a bottle of water in it, then you searched for a new pair of pants while hastily combing your hair with your shaky fingers. God, you could have killed for a cigarette.

Ignoring the mess in the living room and leaving behind an agressively ringing telephone, you ran out of the house, down the stairs and out to the street. Just then did you remember that your car had been towed away the night before. You grunted in frustration, then started running to the bus stop, checking your watch in every second. You turned right at the corner and made it just in time to be able to catch your breath before stepping on to the arriving vehicle.

Mondays were not your favourite, let’s just put it that way. You had been out the night before, saying - and drinking - goodbye to your sister, visiting from home. You looked up at the sky as though you could see her plane leaving for Seattle. You already missed her. All of a sudden you felt miserably alone.

There was no time to drown yourself in self-pity; you had to hurry to catch the next bus at the intersection of the mall. Trying to ignore your hammering headache, you found a seat and leaned against the window, resting your temple on the cool glass.

“Buenos dias,” you said twenty minutes later, arriving at the park. “Sorry, the bus was late.”

“They are ready for you,” said the director with a heavy accent, pointing at the two women in summer clothing, surrounded by the crew and their artificial lights. You nodded and stepped to the fountain, grabbing your camera from your bag.

Being a photographer was the best decision you had made in your life, and coming to Colombia was the second best. You loved your job and loved the country that you were able to work in. The culture, the people, the food and basically everything just drew you to itself, and you happily let it take you away. Sarah - your sister - didn’t understand. She said you’d have hundreds of places in the U.S. where you could work as a photographer. She said living here was dangerous, especially with everything that was going on all over the country. But you didn’t care. You loved it. You had only been here for a year and a half, but you felt like you never wanted to leave. Not without a good reason, anyway.

You were working in deep concentration, taking a break every now and then to wait for the models to change outfits. Now, as it was close to noon, more and more people started to gather around, just watching what you were doing, or sitting down onto benches, enjoying the sunlight. Children were playing, dogs were barking and you just couldn’t feel happier in that moment.

While the crew made some tidying touches on the models’ make up, you lifted your camera again and started taking pictures of the liveliness. You took a picture of the fountain with some birds drinking from its water, then turned around and took a quick shot of two kids playing swordfight with some sticks. You laughed to yourself and kept taking pictures; an old couple walking hand in hand, two men next to a car shaking hands, a dog sniffing something on the ground then running away, and a bald guy with kind smile handing out ice cream from a foodtruck.

“Take a break Liz, or you’ll exhaust yourself with all that work.”

Hearing the familiar voice, you turned around with a small smile on your lips.

“Danilo!” you laughed at the man. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“I’m not on duty today. I thought I’d take a walk,” he said, and pointed at the camera. “Anything good?”

“Just the usual,” you answered and nodded towards the models, who were almost ready. Danilo took one short look at them and snorted.

“Not the ideal beauty if you ask me.”

You raised and eyebrow.

“Why, what’s the ideal beauty for you?”

As soon as you asked the question, you regretted it. You had met Danilo the day you moved to Bogotá, and it was clear from the first moment that he fancied you. There had been some misunderstanding with your papers, so you had gone to the police station to clear up the case. That’s were you had seen each other for the first time. He had been working there for a time now, and since that day he asked you out several times. It always ended with you saying no. You didn’t know what it was, but you didn’t feel the same way towards him. You liked him, but not romantically. He was a nice friend.

“I’m just saying…” he continued, half jokingly, “…that I know a very nice restaurant around the corner. Maybe we could —”

“I’m sorry,” you said, casting down your eyes. “But I…”

“Don’t have the time?” he guessed. You could see that he was disappointed. You nodded, this time looking into his eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

He locked eyes with you for a moment, then something changed on his face and he was smiling again.

“Well, I guess I just have to wait for my time.”

You swallowed. You knew his time would never come. And you had told him that several times before.

“Yeah… Listen, I’ve got to go back to work,” you said, heading towards the returning models. “See you around, okay?”

Danilo nodded. He squeezed your shoulder, then waved goodbye with a smile.

“See you around, Liz.”

Then he left, his hands in his pockets.

——

At home you went over the negatives first, holding them in front of the window. Then, you put them in a little container and walked to a nearby shop to have them developed. You always liked to see the pictures before sending them in to the magazine; it just gave you certainty that you had done a great job.

After getting back to the house, you talked with Sarah on the phone, then tidied up the house a little bit before making some dinner. Then, you just sat on the couch and ate undercooked pasta while watching some soap opera on the TV. It was in Spanish, naturally. You groaned to yourself. All these months that you had spent here and you still didn’t learn Spanish. You knew basic words, but you just simply didn’t have the time to put more effort into it. You felt ashamed and switched the channel.

It was the evening news, and they were talking about a plane crash that happened not a long time ago. You sat in quiet, glued to the screen. They showed footage; the iron pieces of a plane. Clothes lying on the ground. Bodies. You couldn’t blink. The reporter was saying something else. You could only understand one thing of what she was saying: Pablo Escobar.

Then, the footage changed and two man was talking in a studio. At once, a mugshot-like picture of a young man appeared on the screen, with a text and an amount of money printed under his name. You didn’t need a translation to know that he was associated with the crimes happening in the country. He also seemed oddly familiar to you.

You turned off the TV and tried to get some sleep. Tomorrow you would get the photos and send the really nice ones to your boss. You yawned. You could only hope that he’d like them. Maybe then you’d be able to get a raise and buy a new couch. The old one was a bit lumpy…

You slept and dreamed about planes and models.

——

When you woke up in the morning, you were more tired than ever. You hadn’t slept well, and you couldn’t forget that man in the news, who was so familiar to you. You didn’t know how, and there was a chance that you didn’t even want to know. You just wanted to forget his face and live on.

After lunch you went to get the photographs and the negatives, then getting some snacks and turning on the TV again for some background noise, you started looking over your yesterday’s work. It was pretty good… well, it was actually great. You liked the colors and the background, and you liked the style of the dresses the women wore. After putting the best ones separately and sealing the envelope, you turned to the TV only to see the that mistery man again. You frowned and reached for the remote to turn it off, but something stopped you. They were showing now pictures of hundreds of white packages. Pure cocaine. Then they were showing a map, a certain area marked with red. You recognized the area as the park from yesterday. Then, they showed the same young man as yesterday.

Something hit you and you felt electricity coursing through your body. You jumped back to the table, hastily shuffling the remaining pictures around. Yes! You found it. It was a picture of the two men that you shot yesterday, while randomly taking pictures of your surroundings before Danilo showed up. They were there; two men, standing next to a blue car. The licence plate of the car was perfectly captured, and only now did you relize that what you had thought to be a handshake between the two men carried some deeper meaning. Their face was visible - one of them was the man shown in the news. He was the one that they were looking for.

Sitting in fearful silence, your whole apartment felt uneasy. What should you do? You didn’t know much about policework, but you knew that you have something very valuable in your hands. You quickly turned the picture facing down as if someone could see it from the street outside. You swallowed nervously. What should you do?

——

“I’m here to see Danilo López,” you said to the receptionist at the police station and hoped that you would be able to get things over with quickly. Your hand was shaking nervously and you were craving for cigarettes.

“Liz! What are you doing here?” Danilo’s face darkened as he saw your anxious expression. “Is everything okay?”

“I… I need to talk to you,” you said, quickly glancing around. “Can I talk to you?”

“Of course,” he nodded and luckily didn’t ask any more questions until he stepped into a small room with only one table. “So, what’s happening?”

“This,” you said and took a carefully wrapped envelope from your bag and handed it to him. He opened it and took a look at the picture. For a moment he stared at it, then frowned.

“What am I seeing, exactly?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“Them. I saw them in the news. I mean, him,” you pointed at the man on the right. “And I’m sure he is the one that they’re looking for.”

“What makes you so certain?” he asked. It made you nervous, him not understanding what you just discovered. You gave out a shaky chuckle.

“Look at him! His face was all over the news. They showed pictures of cocaine and were talking about Escobar!” You fidgeted with the strap of your bag, then continued. “I think this is serious evidence. I think this other man should be investigated.”

You tried to sound determined, but you knew that Danilo could read the nervousness in your voice. He nodded.

“I agree. But why did you bring this to me? Why didn’t you show this to a captain?”

You stared at him, then glanced towards the doorway. You whispered.

“You said once that there are a lot of dirty cops.”

He stared back and you had no idea what was on his mind. Then, his face softened.

“You did right. Hey, Liz…” he gently grabbed your shoulder and made you turn to him again. “You did great. Don’t be afraid. I’ll make sure… I’ll make sure to get this to the right people.”

He looked at the picture again, but you were too scared to let it go out of your hands. You took it back with a sudden move, crinkling it a little in the middle.

“How about I’ll keep it safe? Just… Just until you’ll know exactly what to do with it.”

Danilo looked at you with some sort of caring in his eyes. He was thinking for a long time, then finally nodded.

“That’s also fine with me. But be careful. Don’t show this to anyone else, do you understand? No one.”

“Okay. I won’t.”

“Good,” he said, then took your arm and gently guided you towards the hallway. “I can come over tomorrow if you’d like. I might figure out something by then.”

“Sure,” you answered, but your stomach was in a knot. “Thanks, Danilo.”

“Anytime,” he said, squeezing your shoulder before letting you go.

You left the police station with great relief. When inside, you couldn’t shake the feeling that all eyes were on you. You didn’t like it. Outside was a bit better. You gently touched your bag, making sure that the envelope with the picture was there, then started walking on the street. You didn’t want to go home just yet; you wanted to walk off this tension in your body. And mostly, you wanted to think.

You liked Danilo and he was a good cop, but letting the picture out of your hands was out of the question. You had stached the negatives at home, hiding them under the cupboard in the living room, just in case. You were scared, and intimitated by the amount of power you suddenly had by this tiny photograph.

You were scared to use it. You knew how many were fighting against druglords and smugglers. And you knew that the fight against Escobar was still heavy. You were scared of what that picture might do to you. But you also felt shame when considered doing nothing with it.

And suddenly, you knew exactly what you needed to do.

——

Javier was not having a good day. Ever since the Avianca plane was bombed, the morale of the DEA was in serious decline. Gaviria was in constant danger, fires and vandalism was the daily routine of the country, and now the kidnapping of Colombia’s most famous reporter was the news that everyone was talking about. Javier took one long look at the board filled with names and pictures of Escobar’s suspected associates, then sighed to himself and closed his eyes for a moment. He was in serious need of some sleep. Or some alcohol.

There was a knock on the door and he looked up, the sudden brightness of the vibrant lightbulbs huring his eyes. There was a young man, Acosta standing there, peaking in the room.

“Agent Peña! There’s someone here for you,” he said in Spanish and Javier groaned.

“For me? Who is it?”

Acosta shook his head.

“She said she wants to talk to an agent. She won’t say why. She’s American.”

“Send Murphy.”

“Agent Murphy’s already left, sir.”

That son of a bitch.

“Where is she?”

“Delirio.”

Javier closed his eyes again and massaged the throbbing point in his temple.

“Fine. I’ll be right there.”

Acosta left and Javier was left alone with his board. He did not want to talk to any American. He was not interested in anything other than putting a bullet into each of the heads of the men on the board.

He stood up, grabbed his packet of cigarettes, then stepped out to the hallway. He headed for a tiny room which was kept up for especially cases like this. At the DEA they called it la oficina de delirio. The office of delusion. The name had stuck, because most of the time they would question people there who came in from the streets, claiming to have important information, then proceeding to tell a gossip that was the biggest bullshit the DEA had ever heard.

Javier stopped in front of the office and glanced through the window while placing a cigarette in his mouth. She was a nervous looking young woman, maybe in her late twenties. She was holding on to a small bag, squeezing it while staring at the table she was sitting at. Her right leg was shaking. Javier inhaled the smoke and stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

“So…” he started out in English, locking eyes with the woman. “What do we have here?”

[dearophelia]

self indulgent grey’s spy!au

so i’m watching madam secretary again and it’s reminding me of the grey’s spy au i was frantically texting @evil-redhead about last year

(first of all, and i did the research to learn that this isn’t actually possible, but it’s fic so who cares: please imagine with me addison as elizabeth’s surgeon general. thank you and goodnight)

second of all, and this is just copy/pasted from text messages with some very light editing:

-one-

The kill order comes in over encrypted text just after 2:30am Kaliningrad local time. Addison knows the logic: take him out and the whole supply chain through the Baltics collapses. She also knows the reality: taking out gun runners in former Soviet states is like playing whack-a-mole with a baby hammer. Eventually someone in the Company will figure that out and change tactics. In the meantime, she has orders.

She speaks flawless Russian with zero accent, which helps when she steers the arms dealer out of the party and up to his private suite. She pretends she’s from the same village as his grandmother, tells stories about a local borscht variant. He compliments her tits and her legs and everything else he can see. What he doesn’t see is the way she twists around her ring and flicks open a hidden compartment with her thumb while she’s pouring the vodka.

Addison watches as he eagerly takes the shot and then turns an interesting shade of purple. He’s dead within ninety seconds.

She takes a shot of clean vodka, wraps up in her black trenchcoat, and slips out the back entrance into the night.

There’s a pay phone four blocks down. She calls her handler and leaves a message about the museum being closed tomorrow, code for mission complete. She checks out of the hotel and is on the next flight to Helsinki away from here.

-two-

Addison likes Mark Sloan, she does. He’s a good asset and a great fuck and she doesn’t at all mind that their schedules sync up in Helsinki more often than she syncs up with anyone else anywhere else. Helsinki’s a good place to lay low for a few days, even easier when she’s hardly getting out of bed.

But he’s DIA and she doesn’t trust defense guys farther than she can throw them. Goes out of her way to avoid them, usually. But Mark’s good company, great fun, and nothing they do in this hotel room ever happened the moment one of them leave. So she’ll let the DOD thing go as long as it doesn’t interfere with her own work.

He’s making breakfast and trying to tell her a joke he overheard. This never ends well, but she indulges him. It falls apart in the translation – “You’d find this hilarious if you heard it in the original Czech,” he proclaims, setting a plate of eggs in front of her.

Addison eyes him over a forkful. “Since I don’t speak Czech, your odds aren’t looking good, Sloan.”

Mark’s still telling his joke and she smiles as the sun rises over their tiny hotel room.

36 hours and then she’s off to Paris and meeting a DGSE contact she can hardly stand. Then, armed with that information, back to former Soviet listening posts. Maybe this one will be inland.

-three-

Addison takes the right hook like a champ, luring the goon into a false sense of security. She drops down, grabs a broom from the floor, and lets the guy have one last laugh at the pretty girl with the stick before she comes whirling in and knocks him flat on his ass inside five seconds. Another goon runs out of the shadows and she cracks him across the skull so hard he actually skids across the floor.

“Impressive,” her contact says in dripping French. He sips his tea.

“The file?” she holds out her hand. No one does intelligence theatrics like the French. Not even the Russians.

With an irritated sigh, the DGSE agent drops a USB drive into her hand. “It self-destructs after 24 hours. Would not recommend keeping it in your suitcase.”

Addison gives him a tight smile and returns to her hotel room.

Derek, this time.

(Mark is Scandinavia and the former Soviet states. Derek is Western Europe. Alex is usually somewhere in Central Asia and Jake is in the Mediterranean.)

She waves off his concern about the shiner blooming over her eye and slides the drive into her laptop. “Order room service,” she tells him as she pulls her shirt off, changing out of bloodied and ripped clothes while waiting for the drive to load.

It’s not his fault he hovers. He’s an embassy doctor, bouncing around Western Europe for the State Department. Last time he got into a fight was probably high school. Last time he had to do anything classified on his own was probably never.

He orders – including red wine and extra ice, which she’s sure makes the kitchen worker on the other end say a few choice things about Americans – and her laptop chirps ready.

Volgograd this time. Not a weapons dealer. A physicist. A nuclear physicist. “Oh boy,” she says to herself.

She books a hotel in Volgograd and then places a same-day Amazon delivery for post-its, a portable printer, tape, and other supplies. She and Elizabeth call it the conspiracy theory order, though she skips the red string.

While Derek’s setting out dinner (and sets a bag of ice intentionally – and somewhat aggressively – in her direction), she sends a secure text to Alex.

gonna be in vgrad for a minute. you nearby?

Dinner’s over before she gets a response.

yep. even have some intel for you.

Addison puts her phone away and turns to Derek. “I’m fine,” she says, gesturing to the cuts and bruises.

“I know.” Still, he wraps his arms around her in a gentle hug. “I worry.”

She hugs him back. They haven’t been married in a long time. “I know.”

He gently maneuvers her to the couch and opens his bag. Addison went to med school too – though the CIA scooped her up during her residency – and a few of the cuts need butterfly closures for a couple days. She lets him work.

“How are Meredith and the kids?”

-four-

“Lox and two chives,” Addison orders at the counter, as she has the last ten days. “And the bathroom key, please.”

The cashier slips her a key. She pays and disappears down the hallway with the bathrooms, but opens the supply closet instead. Past shelves of paper towels and cups and cocaine (not her problem, not today), she pauses at the second door. The handprint scanner flashes blue then green at her palm. The door unlocks.

Bright lights overhead, several whiteboards shoved up against the walls, photographs and maps taped up everywhere. The single desk in the middle of the room is covered in folders labeled TOP SECRET, most of them open. Alex puts a cup of coffee into her hand. She finishes half of it before she even takes her coat off.

Spy work isn’t all glamorous. It’s mostly sitting in dark dank rooms filled with boxes of moth-eaten paper, trying to connect two dots. Alex is a good partner for it though. The fact that he’s CIA too doesn’t hurt – she doesn’t have to play the alphabet agency paranoia game with him.

Hours pass. Another day, another half step closer. The bagel shop closes and they slip out the back by the dumpsters.

“You want to grab a drink?” she asks as she has every night.

“We could skip drinks,” he suggests.

She looks at him in the flickering parking lot light. Normally he says yes, they get drinks and dinner, talk shop, part ways at her hotel.

A small smile graces her lips. Addison doesn’t need to be a spy to pick up Alex’s meaning.

Volgograd is fucking boring. And she and Mark have an exclusive-when-we’re-in-the-same-city agreement, not exclusive-everywhere.

The smile shifts into a smirk. “Yeah.”

-five-

This is a bad idea. This is a really bad idea. This might be the worst idea she’s ever had. And yet.

Flicking her eyes up to the rearview mirror, she gets a read on the car following her. Scratch that – cars. Plural.

She slams on the accelerator and calls Elizabeth.

“I need a favor,” she says as soon as Elizabeth’s picked up the phone. Addison hears several small children laughing in the background.

“On it,” Elizabeth says, once she’s heard the situation and the favor. “Give me ten minutes.”

Sure. She’ll keep leading a high-speed car chase through Southern Turkey and try not to accidentally make a left into Syria. She can keep this up for ten minutes. Why not.

She has the final piece in a USB drive hidden in her shoe, but this extremely stupid idea only becomes worth it if she – or, she supposes, her shoe – can get back to the agency. Which is where Elizabeth comes in. Addison’s nowhere near Ankara and the embassy, driving into Syria is an even worse idea (and she’d run out of gas long before hitting Damascus anyway), and so she needs an exit. Now.

Seven minutes and Elizabeth calls back about an airfield fifteen miles away. A Blackhawk will be waiting there for her, but she has to clear a couple layers of airfield security first.

Addison looks back up in the mirror. Three cars now and she thinks she sees the silhouette of someone hanging out the window with a gun. She’s going to have to have a discussion with Derek about suitable conversations he has with his current wife about his ex-wife the CIA agent and international spy. It’s not Meredith’s fault; GRU’s been tailing Derek since they were the KGB. Addison makes a mental note to remind State about that, maybe have someone sweep his house for bugs on a more regular basis.

But that’s a later problem. A much later problem. The more imminent problem is that she’s being shot at and still has seven miles before the airfield. “Can I just drive through security?” Addison asks, making an abrupt right down a skinny unlit street.

“Sure,” Elizabeth says. “It’s our airfield, do what you want.”

“Not the first time I’ve destroyed US government property.”

Elizabeth snorts. “Call me if you need anything else.”

The call drops as another round of gunfire shoots past.

“You’re really bad at this,” she mutters at the car behind her. They haven’t even managed to blow out the back window yet, not that she’s complaining.

By the time she hits the airfield, they’ve shattered the back window, blown several holes in the trunk, and they hit one of her back wheels just as she slams through the first security gate.

The second gate guards are a little more prepared and already have the gate lifted. They drop spike strips behind her to trap her pursuers. She jumps out of the car to the sound of many tires being violently punctured and the sound of angry Russians being thrown out of their cars and onto the ground.

The Blackhawk lifts off into the dead of night. Addison runs her fingers through her hair and texts her handler that she’s on her way back to Istanbul. She’ll hand off the intel to people who get paid a whole lot more than she does and move on to a new case.

Maybe South America, this time. Let some heat die down before bringing her back to Europe.

Once it’s all settled and she’s in her state-sponsored room, showered and sitting in a fluffy bathrobe, she checks her messages. One from her brother, about Thanksgiving logistics. One from Elizabeth, making sure she made it out okay.

And one from Mark.

Case is taking me to Venezuela. Gonna be a while, Red.

Addison grins. Her new orders came in just before dinner. Turns out there’s some worrisome news in her area of expertise coming out of the South America desk and the Company’s shipping her off to Caracas.

Maybe not. My flight leaves in a couple days. Buy me a margarita?

[mangadumpingground]

Now some background information on our two favorite girls:

Kurosawa Yurine

In the same class as Ayaka, she is a "genius" in a nutshell. Nobody can beat her and she usually spends her time sleeping. Yet one day, after Ayaka has helped her open herself a tiny bit, she falls in love and becomes obsessed with her, thinking she has found the one person who can best her.

The Ace: She is good at everything she does, be it in studies, sports, or even art. But since she succeeds at everything without even trying, she can't get invested in anything.

Animal Motifs: During her more excitable moments, she's drawn with dog ears.

Asleep in Class: Her default mode. If she's ever seen awake during class, it's because the teacher woke her up.

Caring Gardener: Her increasingly genuine interest in gardening parallels her growing sociability as the series progresses. She starts as an isolated girl who joined the gardening club more or less out of obligation, to a caring senpai who's willing to make friends and tries to make the gardening club prosper again. By the end of the series, she decides that she wants to become a florist.

Character Development: She has gained quite a few social skill points since the beginning of the series, and has become slightly less fixated on Ayaka alone (although she's still her main motivation). She even decides to join a club eventually. Chapter 22-23 is an important step, as for the first time, Yurine tries to interact with Ayaka not as a "rival" or a one-sided crush, but as someone she genuinely cares and worries for, giving her words of comfort that would have been unthinkable at the start of the series. Volume 7, being mostly from her point of view, emphasizes how much more fulfilling her life has become since she met Ayaka… and how much Ayaka, on the other hand, is still stuck in a state of mind not unlike that of the early Yurine.

Cool Big Sis: Sumire sees her as this, and well, she has reasons to.

Covert Pervert: She may not show it all the time, but in addition to their competition, she's also definitely curious of Ayaka's body.

Deuteragonist: She's as much of a protagonist as Ayaka, as a good chunk of the chapters about their relationship are from her own point of view. Her Character Development is also somewhat more noticeable than Ayaka's.

Ditzy Genius: Sure she can ace any test and learn at the speed of light, but that doesn't prevent her from occasionally being strangely clueless or taking odd actions − like trying to catch a paper stuck in a tree, even though it's obviously out of her reach and she's sitting on the second floor window.

Friendless Background: According to herself. In the first chapter, Chiharu notes that her excess of ability makes her hard to approach, and she is pretty distant herself. Though meeting Ayaka, Mizuki and Ai helped her open up it seems.

Green-Eyed Monster: Downplayed but clearly played straight. Yurine envies/admires Ayaka because she has a "role" in their school (see I Just Want to Have Friends below), and participates in life to a degree that Yurine can't.

Heavy Sleeper: Because she feels like she has nothing better to do than sleep, as she considers herself a bother for other people.

I Just Want to Be Normal: She's sick of people praising, relying on or being jealous of her because of her talent. All she wants is to find someone who will make her feel like an ordinary girl, and Ayaka is that person.

I Just Want to Have Friends: Played with. She wants to belong somewhere, but is too dismissive of (or possibly disillusioned from past experiences with) people to engage with them.

Innocently Insensitive: She's so apathetic about talking to anyone, for any reason, that she comes off as rude. By the end of volume 7, she has thankfully improved quite a bit in this department.

Insufferable Genius: Has shades of this when she rubs Ayaka's "no.2" ranking in her face just to piss her off.

Lonely at the Top: And one reason she falls in love with Ayaka is that, finally, someone seems to be able to (eventually) best her.

Luminescent Blush: In chapter 35, she sports this when Ayaka holds her hand (because Yurine forgot her gloves); and later, for the first time her teasing backfires as Ayaka's (supposedly reluctant) kiss completely makes her lose her composure.

Mood-Swinger: Usually aloof and bored, but whenever she is with Ayaka, she can go from euphoric to teasing to pouty to Cloud Cuckoolander, all in an instant. In any case, she is clearly in heaven just by being with her.

No Social Skills: Generally ignores people, doesn't censor her speech, often intrudes on Ayaka's personal space, etc. As of chapter 22, she's improved with regard to the latter.

Photographic Memory: Implied, as she can memorize an entire textbook page with one casual reading.

Too Much Information: She ogles Ayaka. We know this because she tells her.

The Gadfly: An expert at rubbing Ayaka the wrong way.

The Tease: She takes an intense delight in playing with Ayaka, often physically. It can go quite far, yet the latter shows surprisingly little resistance to it.

Single-Target Sexuality: She has eyes only for Ayaka and only seems to feel any kind of satisfaction when she is at her side. Though chapter 11 subverts this when Ayaka tells her that in the end, she would just love anyone who can beat her. Yurine's answer is that it might be true, to Ayaka's shock. Afterwards she herself starts to worry that her feelings for Ayaka may not go further than that.

"Shut Up" Kiss: Gives one to Ayaka in chapter 12, when the latter warns her that her club activities might detract her from the tests.

Supreme Chef: Par for the course. So supreme that she can cook while sleeping.

Took a Level in Kindness: Through her interactions with Ayaka, Ai, and the gardening club, she becomes considerably less of a jerk over time, although she still has her occasional bouts of teasing.

Shiramine Ayaka

A self-proclaimed "model student", she is obsessed with being the first at everything and thus sees her world turned upside-down when Yurine appears in high school.

Aggressive Submissive: Kind of. For all her defiance, Yurine can play her like a harp when she's in a flirtatious mood.

Armor-Piercing Question: She gives one to Yurine in chapter 11, but she's the one hit hard by Yurine's laconic answer.Ayaka: You say I'm special to you but… in the end, you would like anyone able to beat you, wouldn't you?" Yurine: *Beat*… You may be right.

Belligerent Sexual Tension: Not belligerent on Yurine's side, but on hers, definitely.

Bitch in Sheep's Clothing: Subverted. When she's alone with people close to her like Mizuki or (though she hates to admit it) Yurine, she's quite aggressive and stubborn. But that doesn't mean the kindness and helpfulness she shows towards her classmates isn't genuine. The few times she has a supporting role in another girl's arc (mostly in volume 8 with Hikari and 9 with Mikaze), she appears much friendlier than when she's the focus.

Character Development: Chapter 15 shows that she has largely gotten used to Yurine's presence and has become somewhat more conscious and accepting of her sweet side. In any case she doesn't reject her as strongly as early on. Continued in chapter 23 where she lets Yurine spend the night with her on the beach, whispering what seems to be a "thank you" and kissing her forehead. At that point, while she still wants to defeat her, she no longer shows any desperation or anger about it. By chapter 40, her motivation has shifted from wanting to defeat Yurine so that she can forget about her to wanting to defeat her so that she can admit her own feelings to her.

Class Representative: Unsurprisingly, she seems to be this (at least in role).

Determinator: She will not give up until she has gotten her first place back from Yurine, and won't allow Yurine to give up either. By chapter 35 it actually has become a double-edge sword in their relationship: she refuses to bond with Yurine further as long as she hasn't defeated her, but at the same time she won't acknowledge any bond with her beyond their competition (despite obviously showing that she cares for her). This is the opposite situation from chapter 11 mentioned above, in a way.

Expressive Hair: Mostly in the early chapters, where they tended to float around a lot. It became more straight and static as the art got somewhat cleaner around volume 5.

Go-Getter Girl: Ayaka sees it as absolutely imperative to be the best at absolutely everything.

Good Angel, Bad Angel: Subverted, as their roles are reversed. The good angel tells her to focus on being the best and reject Yurine at all costs; the bad angel tells her that Yurine isn't a bad person and that there's nothing wrong with being friends with her.

Hidden Buxom: She turns out to be far more busty than she seems in her uniform. She's apparently a D-cup according to Yurine.

Not So Different: It's not as immediately obvious as with Yurine, being the School Idol and helping various people around at school, but as we go on it's increasingly clear that she doesn't have any actual friends either. Mizuki even sarcastically points it out in chapter 18.In another sense, during Ayaka's Heroic BSoD she acts antisocial and listless, much like Yurine's default state. Again, this is pointed out by Yurine herself (who had some Character Development in the meantime) in chapter 35.

Out of Focus: Despite technically being a protagonist, there are actually very few chapters from her point of view (if you don't count the extras). Chapter 1 and 2, chapter 11, half of chapter 15, chapter 22-23, chapter 40 and that's pretty much it; in other chapters she only appears for a few pages, if at all, and volume 7 is primarily centered on Yurine with Ayaka in a supporting role. It doesn't help that, rather ironically, Ayaka almost only interacts with Yurine (and sometimes Mizuki) while Yurine herself intervenes in other characters' arcs. This only changes in the last two volumes, where she briefly gives advice to Mikaze in volume 9 and finally gets full focus in volume 10.

School Idol: And that's her pride, even if Yurine is no.1 in grades.

Second Place Is for Losers: She does not take losing to Yurine by three points lightly.Mizuki: Why does it bother you so much to be second? It's awesome. Ayaka: Yeah, for someone like you who is around the 150th place, being first or second probably doesn't make much of a difference!

Smart People Wear Glasses: She occasionally sports these when studying.

Tareme Eyes: Art Evolution made her distinctively drooping eyes more prominent, making her look somewhat less aggressive in later volumes. It might also serve to outline her bad eyesight.

Tsundere: While she usually shows an admirable façade at school, she shows a more aggressive side when alone with Mizuki, and completely loses her composure when it comes to Yurine. She can admit she is awesome and can't help but look at her constantly, but refuses to acknowledge that she's attracted to her. Made more amusing by the fact that even Yurine herself can see it. Interestingly though, that dynamic starts to be reversed in volume 7-8, where Yurine is now the one losing her composure while Ayaka calmly listens to her worries.

Well Done Daughter Girl: Implied in a flash-back, where her mother scolds her because she got "only" 95/100 at a test, while Mizuki's mother praises her for getting an 88. And confirmed in chapter 22 where Ayaka breaks down under the pressure and decides to say "screw that, I no longer care if I'm not the best".

Workaholic: She will study to death and work harder than any student, but she admits than she doesn't really have a precise goal beyond "being no. 1". This seems to come at least partly from her mother's overly high expectations.

[miss-choco-chips]

Home

Four times Tim just wanted to go home, and one time he’s actually there.

(  @animemangasoul I think you’ll like this one)

(I was listening to Home by Machine Gun Kelly X Ambassadors & Bebe Rexha while I wrote this. Might have cried a little. I regret nothing)

----.----

His mom is holding his hand, a rare occurrence. Were he in a more… stable state, he’d squeeze the moment for all it’s worth.

But the coldness of fear had his heart in a ice-like grip, and the scenery around them did little to appease him. Nothing, not even the warmth of being held, could keep him from shaking.

-I want to go home -he whispers in his mother’s ear when she picks him up in her arms. Safe against her body, he thinks he can feel his heart melting a bit around the edges where panic had frozen him over.

Mom tightened her hold, eyes leaving the crying kid and his dead parents for the first time in a long time. He feels how one of her hands drops its place under his leg to pat his back, more comforting than he ever thought she capable of.

-Yes, we are leaving now. Jack? Bring the car over, we’ll wait here.

She doesn’t lower him until they are back at the manor. Then, his parents retire to their rooms, both to rest and prepare for their trip to the Bahamas the following morning. 

Tim shivers all night long, yearning for the warmth he was too distracted to appreciate a few hours ago, back at the circus.

This wasn't what he meant, when he asked to go home. He just wanted to feel safe.

----.----

This… wasn’t what he expected. To being caught, that is. Specially by his hero.

Jason (Robin, call him Robin, don’t you dare slip up, he can’t know you know!) is looking down at him, hands on his hips. He’s doing his best to look stern, but the short shorts, pixie boots and unconscious thug at his back ruin the effect of his glare.

Tim, camera held tightly as it’s been for the last couple of minute since the man came out of the shadows to try and steal it from him, distractedly thinks Batman should get on that, teach Robin his famous loom. He’s feeling starstruck, more than fearful.

-It’s too late for a squirt like you to be out. Streets are dangerous, no’ne told you? Specially ‘is parts o’the city -the young vigilante drawled, accent thicker than Tim recalled from back at the gala when their parents introduced them in passing. Not that Jason would remember.

-I… I’m not a squirt, I’m ten -he finally blurts out, wishing he could smack himself the second the words leave his mouth.

-Children should be on bed at this time.

He does his best to calm his erratic heart, and canalizes all the sass on his pint sized body to arch an eyebrow- Hypocrite much?

Robin growls, but Tim can tell he’s doing his best to hide a smile.

-I can leave you here, you know.

He knows Jason is bluffing, looking for a reaction, but the mere idea still makes his barely calming heart kick into overdrive again. The scare of a few minutes ago was too fresh on his mind. He already knows he won’t be going out again soon, not until he could plan a new route to photograph his idols while traveling only by rooftop, to best avoid the scum of the city.

-No, wait… please -he moves forward, hand taking a handful of cape, as if that could stop the vigilante if he actually was planning to leave.

Jason took the chance to wrap him on it like a little blanket, picking him up in his arms like a baby.

-Don’t worry, shortstack. I’m taking you home so I can be sure y’er actually following your bedtime.

Feeling a little braver in his hero’s arms, he fired back- Don’t have any.

-Whatever, you lil liar.

-It’s true. You can ask my parents… that’s it, if you’re willing to go into my house for a chat. Masks are in bad taste though, you’ll have to take yours off.

Truthfully, both his parents are away on business. Not that he needed to know about the bluff.

This time, he didn’t bother to hide his amusement, letting his barking laughter come out.

-You little shit. I’m not giving you my secret that easy.

Tim just shrugs, painting his most innocent smile. It’s difficult to keep it in place when Jason asks for directions, and then drops him at his bedroom’s window.

The giddiness of meeting his hero can’t quench his disappointment when he watches Jason’s back as he leaves. 

A little, childish part of himself had believed, hoped (with all the innocence his heart had left), that when Jason said ‘take you home’, he was talking about his own. 

----.----

He’s training as hard as possible. His body, shaped by the multiple teachers he hired through the years, hurts in a way he never thought possible, and has been like that ever since he first went to the training mats to face Bruce.

He knows the pain is necessary, what he learns there could be the difference between life or death (his eyes never fail to go to Jason’s suit, his altar, where he, as his whorshipper, would always go ask for strength and courage), but it's hard to remember his purpose for being there when he goes to bed each night with aching limbs.

Still, he endures.

This last week has been both harder than any other, and the best he’s ever had. The first, because a full on out gang war had forced him, Dick and Bruce to work overtime, going out every night for twice their usual hours (thank god for spring break). The second, because to save time and strength, he’d been allowed to stay the night at the manor with them.

He can’t believe how nice it is to have breakfast with someone. Sure, they have it at like three pm, but still. The pained body was so, so worth this.

When they caught their last perps, all tied up and pretty for the GCPD, Tim was simultaneously absolutely beat and the happiest he’s been.

Batman puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes, saying ‘let’s go home, Robin’, and he thinks for a moment he’s dreaming again.

He actually sleeps a bit, on the Batmobile trip. Beyond tired, feels his body being raised and then lowered again in a soft surface, something warm over his chest, and then lights out again.

When he wakes up the next morning, he’s at Drake Manor. The breakfast table is empty, the hallways colder than he remembered, and he wishes last night had actually been a dream. It would hurt less, if it had been all in his imagination; instead, he has to live with the knowledge of being so close, yet so far.

Not for the first time, he wishes ‘home’ were a different place.

----.----

He sighs, dropping his suitcase uncaringly. Anything important is on his phone anyway, who gives a fuck. Certainly not an overworked seventeen year old kid who’s just getting back after a long day. 

The place was clean, spacious and with a modern decoration style he kinda likes. The mechanic fishes certainly give it a nice touch, and the underground nerd cave he built for himself is the cherry on top- bottom, whatever.

It’s a nice house. A place he made for himself, to come back to. With scanners that automatically alert him if some sneaky ninja plants a bug, or a snoopy family member was sniffing around for his toys. He knows everything that happens here, in this little kingdom he built from scratch.

Of course, there are some itty bitty problems with it. Not the layout itself, that one was a dream came true, and no security issue either: all of Ra’s thwarted attempts at having his people breaking in confirmed how tight it was.

But, for some reason, the thermostat didn’t seem to work. It was always way too cold. 

The soundproof walls were good at keeping his secrets under wraps, but they also made it seem so unnaturally quiet, it gave him the creeps.

No table in sight. Not that he needed one, he shrugs. Lunch he eats outside, at the office. Dinner is a quick thing, a sandwich while he gets ready for patrol or some other snack while he types away at his computer. Breakfast… he doesn’t know why, but he never feels right when eating it, so he skips it more often than not.

Sighing again, he falls face first into his absurdly pricey couch. Blindly patting the coffee table until he finds the blanket he always keeps there, he thinks about taking a lil nap. He didn’t sleep last night (or the one before that), so it feels like he’s earned this break.

Decision made, Tim takes his phone out of the secret pocket in his coat and selects the app that makes background noise. He always sleeps better with it.

Yeah. This is a nice, comfortable place.

Too bad it’s not home.

-I just want to go home -he whispers to himself before letting unconsciousness claim him. 

If asked, he’d said the break in his voice was a yawn and not a sob.

----.----

When he wakes up, it’s to noise all around him. That alone puts him on guard so fast he would have pulled a muscle, if he were anyone else. As a Bat-trained vigilante though, he just tensed before opening his eyes to analyze his surroundings.

This… wasn’t his place, where he distinctly remembers falling asleep, face down on his couch. 

This was Titans Tower. Was he losing track of time? Had he been on a fight and got hit on the head? 

-Hey, you’re awake -Kon’s head poked out of the kitchen area, smiling as he floated all the way to where Tim was lying, on the living room’s couch.

The sight of his friend was enough to loosen his muscles. Still unsure but immediately comfortable he sat up straight and looked around. He could hear Bart and Cassie bickering on the background, probably the kitchen, Greta’s laughter coming to him from the same place, and those were Anita’s shoes and Cissie’s backpack near the elevator.

The first two and Kon, he could get. They were all Titans. But the three girls? They were retired, so what…

-Hey, boy wonder, let your brain take a break. I can hear you thinking from here and it’s giving me a headache -the super joked, landing by Tim’s side and poking his forehead lightly.

-That’s because you never think, you aren’t used to it -he fires back automatically. Then, a slow blink-  What are the girls doing here? What am I doing here? Last thing I remember I was… at the Perch. Sleeping.

-Yeah, and what a deep sleep that was. Been pulling all nighters, haven’t you? -his best friend shook his head, beyond giving Tim a disappointed look. They knew each other way too much to be surprised by their respective bad habits- you didn’t even flinch when I wrapped you up in TTK and flew you here. And about the girls, I told Cassie and Bart I was gonna pick you up, and they decided to make a thing out of this and went to bring them here, just to hang out. Like back in the days, you know?

The mention of their Young Justice times never failed to give Tim a heartache, but this time it just made him feel warm. 

He tried to look stern, but the smile he could feel growing on his lips against his will probably ruined it.

-But why did you? Bring me here, I mean.

Kon tilted his head, visibly confused.

-What do you mean? I heard you. You said you wanted to go home.

Something deep and frozen inside him abruptly melted, like it was hit by a flamethrower. The intensity brought tears to his eyes, body shaking uncontrollably as he bent over himself, hands clutching the opposite arm tightly, as if trying to hold himself in one piece.

Kon’s arms were around him in an instant, worried shouts piercing his ears as he plastered the smaller vigilante to his chest, unthinkingly helping him keep his broken pieces together. The warmth from his best friend’s body served as a welder, and Tim could finally breathe without the fear of breaking apart.

-Tim? Fuck, what’s wrong? Are you okay?! Here, dude, I got you.

-Kon? What is i- fuck, what did you do? Hey, Tim!

-Rob? Oh my god he’s crying, why is he crying!

The voices came closer, surrounding him from all directions as multiple hands touched him in an attempt to comfort.

It was too much, too warm, too bright.

He hoped it’d never end.

-I just…

Everyone stopped talking. His voice was broken by sobs, but he sounded happier than they had ever heard him.

-I’m just happy I’m finally home.

[booksrbetterthanpeople]

François-Dupont Performs Carrie- Rehearsal

In

Luka could not keep a straight face during the interrogation scene

The actors actually related a lot to this song

Marinette and Adrien blushed when they saw Kagami in the red gym outfit

Most of the female actors weren’t so great in the volleyball scene, so the director is gonna have the girls volleyball team fill in for them

The girl’s immediately apologized after they had to insult Nathaniel

Carrie

For the iconic shower scene, Marinette added velcro and straps to the towels so they wouldn’t fall off

To make it look like blood was running down Nathaniel’s leg, they just used some food coloring

The male actors blushed and looked away when they saw the girls throwing tampons and pads

Alix: They’re just period stuff! Grow up!

Nathaniel kept tripping over his skirt, so Marinette hemmed it. (Cuz he short)

Open Your Heart

For the scene where the boys are walking home from school, Alix gave Kim skateboarding lessons

Kim was a little hesitant to lift up Nathaniel’s skirt

For the part where Billy falls off his skateboard, a thin, hardly noticeable rope was tied to it, and one of the stagehands would pull on it

The school choir sang behind the curtain to mimic the radio

Eve Was Weak

Nathaniel couldn’t help but laugh at Alya’s dramatics

She accidentally hit Nathaniel with the Bible

Alya: Oh my God! I am so sorry!

Nathaniel: Now I really am bleeding!

The World According to Chris

Marinette, as Sue, learns that Corey is a trans male

The liquor was just cranberry juice

Aurore got really into this song

Evening Prayers

The make to Biblical figurines float, Max added small, barely noticeable propellers

Dreamer in Disguise

Marc and Nathaniel may or may not have been exchanging glances with each other the whole time

Adrien threw a paper ball at Nino while he was acting as Mr. Stephens, leading to a paper ball fight

Marc was looking at Nathaniel the whole time while singing

Once You See

Having slight anger issues, yelling comes natural to Nathaniel

Unsuspecting Hearts

Aurore immediatly apologized to Nathaniel after she yelled at him during the apology scene

Aurore unleashed her inner Chloe when she threatened Kagami

This is Corey’s coming out scene

Instead of the girl���s room, Kagami took Nathaniel into the boy’s room

Do Me A Favor

Nathaniel immediately said yes after Marc asked him to prom

Nino: Not in the script dude-

Alix: SHUT IT!

I Remember How Those Boys Could Dance

Max used a remote control to make the windows shut

The students began to feel bad for Margaret after realizing she was assaulted

Two or three of the students had panic attacks. Margaret’s part was very descriptive

A Night We’ll Never Forget

Kim doesn’t like being called stupid, so Aurore just said “damn shit”

Mylène nearly fainted at the sight of the “blood”

The blood is just some water mixed with red food dye, curtesy of Marinette’s parents

For the scene where Corey makes his outfit, Marinette offered one of her old sewing machines

You Shine

Since Tommy is gay in this rendition, he and Sue were supposed to go to Prom as friends

Why Not Me?

Some of the lyrics were changed to fit a male character

‘I’m gonna walk in three-inch heels’ to ‘I’ll walk with my head up high’

Stay Here Instead

This song somehow reminded Adrien of his dad

Adrien: Man, I gotta sit down.

When There’s No One

Nino: She sounds so pretty when she’s planning to kill someone…

Adrien: … Dude.

Prom Arrival

Juleka also played the photographer

The Prom Committee helped decorate the set. They mean business

The prom outfits were either bought, brought from home, or made by Marinette

Unsuspecting Hearts (Reprise)

Kagami’s character is a lesbian (Cuz I said so)

Everyone’s in agreement- Kagami’s and Nathaniel’s voices sounded amazing together

Alix: This contest insults women and excludes enbies!

Marc: Preach!

Dreamer in Disguise (Reprise)

Marc has no idea how to slow dance, so Nathaniel took the lead and made it look like Marc was guiding him

Nathaniel and Marc immediatly kissed after finishing the song

Kim: There’s not kissing in this scene-

Alix: It’s call “improv”!

Kim: But they-

Alix: SILENCE, HETERO!

Prom Climax

Aurore accidentally spilled the “blood” a few times, so they had to put a lid on the bucket until the big scene

Alma Mater

Alix: This contest insults women!

Nino/Kagami: Ally Vale and Corey White!

Alix: YEAH BITCHES! I WON!

Marinette and Marc were both kicked out of prom after Marinette as Sue went to get help

It took a few tries to get the “blood” to splatter right on Nathaniel

And in case the “blood” didn’t splatter right, the lights are gonna turn off for a few seconds, then come back on but this time Nathaniel has on a red tuxedo jacket

The Destruction

Chloé taught Nathaniel how to do dramatic hand movements for the “Psycho telekinesis scene”

Max rigged the doors to close using a remote control

So simulate a fire, the tech crew used red stage lights and had crackling fire play in the background

Aurore and Kim had barely noticeable harnesses strapped to them to make it look like telekinesis was being used on them

Carrie (Reprise)

It took Alya a while to memorize the prayer Margaret recited

When they hugged, some of Nathaniel’s hair got in Alya’s mouth

Alya: Ugh! He does not taste like a tomato! You were wrong, Alix!

Alya sings lullabies to Ella and Etta when they’re sad, so this just came natural to her

She accidentally dropped the knife on the floor

Alya: Aw, shit.

Nathaniel: *Scandal gasp* Murderer!

Epilogue

It took all of Marc’s willpower not to kiss Nathaniel during the death scene

Nathaniel: *Whispers* Do it.

[jinmindeulle]

crowned ∣ jwy (5)

whatever it takes

word count: 1.7k

genre: royalty au, prince!wooyoung x dressmaker!reader ∣ angst, fluff

warnings: minor swearing

a/n: if you want to be in the tag list so that you don’t miss the updates, just comment down below and i’ll happily add you! ♥

last part before the epilogue! enjoy!

Hours go by without me noticing. Crying consumes a lot of time, apparently.

The wedding ceremony was supposed to start at 6 p.m, so by now, Wooyoung and that lady should already be husband and wife, and must be heading out of the small church that the palace had in order to start the actual party in the building’s ballroom.

As I wait for it to be over, I let the last tears go down my face. I take a look at the room that has been my chamber for about three years, recalling beautiful memories and hard times spent there.

My eyes land on a picture hanging by the window, and I frown because I must have forgotten to pack it inside my cardboard boxes. I wipe away the last fallen tears and make my way towards it to unhook it so I can just shove it inside my backpack.

Well, maybe I shouldn’t have.

It’s my favorite picture. Wooyoung and I are grinning at the camera like a pair of kids, going out of the palace’s lake on an extremely hot summer evening. His — at that time — dark hair was soaked wet, visible drops falling from it. His suit was glued to his slender and perfect figure, because neither of us had wanted to get rid of our clothes, the only thing remaining in land being our shoes. I, on the other hand, had refused to leave the fresh water, and the only parts of my body that could be seen were my head and one of my hands making the peace sign. San had taken that picture, because he didn’t want to go inside due to his recently dyed hair.

I smile nostalgically at the photograph, slowly caressing Wooyoung’s bright smiley face. I had wanted to make sure that that joyful expression stayed where it belonged for a long time, but that turned out to be harder that I actually thought would be.

A knock on my door takes me out of my own thoughts. I quickly shove the picture inside my backpack while shouting ‘Coming!’ to the person behind the hatch, who’s highly likely to be San.

After running away from Wooyoung, he came by and helped me calm down, promising to pick me up as soon as possible the following morning. San had also whispered in my ear that he was going to go back and check up on me from time to time while the wedding party was still going on, just to make sure that I was not drowning in my own tears.

With the best I’m-doing-perfectly-fine expression on my features — the best that I could bring myself to do, really — I opened the door.

“I’m doing go-“

“I didn’t do it”

My mouth forms a perfectly shaped ‘o’, and I just remain like this until he grabs my face with his hands and repeats his life changing statement.

“I didn’t do it, y/n”

“What?” I mutter, too shocked to ask or say something better.

“I couldn’t do it, so I just didn’t. I didn’t get married, y/n.” Wooyoung whispers against my lips, his breathtaking smile making a comeback.

“Wha-”

And he does it again.

He kisses me like it’s our last one. However, this time, he’s tougher, hungrier, desperate. He takes my lips with his as if I was about to fade away in any minute, trying to take from me as much as possible because I can just slip away from his arms.

I am too astonished to reciprocate the kiss, but I know he knows it too. Wooyoung breaks apart, gasping for air, but still smiling wide, a smile that actually reaches his beautiful eyes.

“How- “

“That kiss” he mutters, looking me in the eye. “You kissed me and told me that you loved me.”

“Yes, but I- “

“You lied to me back in the cottage. You said you didn’t love me that way. But you do” he laughs, pecking my lips once more. “And you mean to me more than anything in this world, so I just said ‘Fuck it’ and ran away from there to be with you, just like we should.”

“Please don’t interrupt me this time” I say, my voice muffled as a consequence of his hands on my cheeks. I take them away with my own, intertwining our fingers so that we don’t lose contact. “I do love you, Wooyoung. Don’t!” I plead as he’s about to interfere again. “Listen to me.”

“Okay” he cutely responds, nodding, and I just want to melt right there. But the number of questions I have around my head prevent me from doing it.

“I love you, but you can’t abandon your people. You and I both know that they are actually waiting for you to become King, because you’ll do an outstanding job. This kingdom needs a worthy, kind, generous ruler, and there’s no one like you to do it. No offence, but your Father has a lot to learn from you.”

Wooyoung lightly laughs, without taking his eyes off of mine.

“I know you do want to be the King you’re supposed to. So please, don’t do this. Running away from here is not an option, Woo.” I beg, trying not to make evident my sadness through my voice.

“I must interrupt you there, lady” he begins, taking my hands to his lips and leaving a soft kiss in each knuckle. “Because I am going to be King. But you’ll be my Queen.”

I had always thought that, sometimes, Wooyoung forgets that he lives in a kingdom with actual rules, that forbids people from doing certain things and prevents them from ending up in jail. One of those rules regards marriage between two individuals from different social backgrounds — that is, if one of them is either part of the royalty or the nobility and the other is not — as a law-breaking action.

So, a dressmaker plus a Prince, equals error. The end.

“Wooyoung, you know that that can’t actually happen.” I murmur. The hurt in my eyes must be evident at this point.

“It can now.” He grins.

My mouth hangs open once again, looking at him with wide, doe eyes. “Care to explain?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to do since I came in here!” Wooyoung whines, pouting like he usually did when he saw me getting started with the Oreos before meeting him. His grip tightens around my fingers, as he skillfully closes my door with one of his feet. “Let’s sit down”

We quickly move to my bed, hands still together and thighs making as much physical contact as possible. His thumbs start caressing the back of my fingers as he begins his awaited explanation.

“I left the church right before having to say yes, trying not to look back at the girl whose name I still don’t remember.” My surprise must be clear by now, because he cutely laughs and uses one of his hands to get a hold of my chin and lift it up a little bit so no bug is able to enter my mouth. “Father followed me and some guards did as well, but he dismissed them when he saw me standing a few meters away from the gates, actually waiting for him.

I choked out that I couldn’t do it, and that I was never going to get married to her. I made him, and — I hope — the rest of the world know, that I was in love with you and that I’d run away if it was the only way of being with you. Just as I was screaming those words, my mom reached us too. I took advantage, knowing that she actually understands me, and I told them that I would stay and keep doing my job as the Prince and future King only if I was able to marry you.

Father said that I was crazy, that we needed that marriage. That the kingdom was going downhills without it. But then, San appeared out of nowhere. He confessed that he had heard us behind my chamber’s door, and that he knew for a fact that we were actually what this kingdom needed. No allies, no exchanges. Just you and me.

After hearing that my best friend had my back, mom had mercy on us. She gave dad a talk about them hating each other so much because of their arranged marriage. I had always known they didn’t like each other, but not that they felt hatred. She said that she wanted me to be happy no matter what, and that if what took for me to be happy was you, then she wanted it as well. And I quote, ‘Whatever it takes to see my baby smile’”

I chuckle, letting happy tears go down my face. Finally.

“That was what made Father agree. He promised me that he will be passing a law that allows royals to marry whoever they want, no nobility title needed. I just have to commit with the kingdom more. He wants me to be a part of the Royal Advisory Board in exchange, so that I can be fully prepared when the time comes for me to be in his place.

Y/n, we can get married and I can still rule with y-”

This time, is me who decides that no more explanations are needed. I throw myself onto him, finding his smiling lips on the way and pinning him to the mattress. My hands find the way to his cheeks, trying to deepen the kiss as much as I am able to, because I want, I need to show him how much I have wanted this. Wooyoung laughs at my desperation, but he’s no better than I am, because I feel his hands on my hips, slowly travelling all the way to my ass.

“Jung Wooyoung!” I gasp, the smile never leaving my face.

“What? You’re about to be my wife, darling. You can just admit that you’ve been waiting for me to do that since day one.” He smirks, pecking my lips and laughing at my reddened cheeks.

“Well, fuck it. Yes, I’ve been waiting for you to do that and a lot more since the moment I saw you. And I don’t care what you think of me.” I admit, replicating that smirk of his.

“I don’t judge you, baby. Because I’ve been wishing for the same.”

We both let out happy chuckles, leaning in to keep on doing what we do best.

Loving each other.

epilogue: ladybugs and oreos →

Here’s the fifth and last part of crowned ♥ but don’t worry, we have the epilogue left!

I can’t believe that all of you actually loved it so much!!

If you are reading this, thank you so much for being here, it means a lot to me ♥ Leave your comments, suggestions and ideas on the comments below!

Happy reading!

⇢ jinmindeulle

@ncitydreamies​