#; oh... it seems you''re calling me (starter call)

[petermorwood]

This popped up on my YouTube the other day and not to brag, but...

Oh, why the hell not? It's a small brag, but satisfying. :->

I posted about refilling the Pilot Vpen (IRL-UK) / Varsity (US) - and adding how-to links - about 4 years and then again a year ago.

Here are the how-to links; I'm glad to see they're still active.

This one, like the video, calls for pliers and suggests removing the nib:

This one doesn't use pliers or separate the nib from the feed.

*****

Bragging aside, I'm pleased to see Brian Goulet of Goulet Pens giving this hack a higher profile (and Kudos for it, too - as a retailer it's more in his interest to sell them than refill them!)

His reason is very sound: those cheap little pens (usually about 3-to-4 local currency units whether €, $ or £) are ideal for FP-curious newbies or as no-loss-worries when travelling or no-damage-worries loaners.

They also have much better nibs than the price would suggest. Indeed that seems common to all the inexpensive Pilot pens I've tried, which includes every nib size of MR / Metropolitan.

In addition, IMO the notion of "disposable" fountain pens goes completely against the principal FP virtue, where once you've bought the pen, all you USE is the ink.

So in the US at least * buy that ink from Goulet. They've got one or two to choose from and a selection of samples in vials or sets...

( * In Ireland, with Pen Corner in Dublin now gone, I get mine from CultPens or Penstore.)

*****

I should mention, for completeness, that some "starter" fountain pens have prices not much more than these disposables and, refilled by "proper" ink cartridges / bottle-refill converters, don't involve anything like this trouble.

Just saying...

*****

It just so happens that one of my two Vpens was about due for a refill, so here are some pics of the process.

I scrubbed the markings off the barrels a long time ago so I could see what was inside, since refills mean the ink in the pen often has nothing to do with its colour-indicator cap.

First, disassembled and washed in changes of warm water until the water stays clear.

Here's the nib and feed: they've always come out of both Vpens as a single unit, with no need for pliers. Since the nibs show no desire to come off I've no desire to force the issue and maybe break something; those little ink-guide fins are delicate.

The filler is a small syringe begged from our local vet. I also use it to refill cartridges with custom ink colours (yup, I sometimes roll my own...)

Its "needle" is plastic tubing (an empty Pilot gel-pen cartridge, appropriately enough) which fits the syringe perfectly, and a pointy end made by stretching the tube over a candle-flame then snipping to length. If it gets too stained - this is nearly there - just chuck it in the recycle bin and make a new one.

The ink could have been any of the 30-odd I have at the minute, or something mixed specially, but I chose this one - a nice dark green - for the same reason @dduane had me buy it.

It's a very cute bottle... :->

*****

And here's the "disposable" pen refilled, reassembled and re-writing.

It really does have a better nib than you'd expect from a supposedly single-use pen...

*****

It sometimes takes a while for the ink to work its way by capillary action down from barrel to nib, especially if everything has been left to dry after washing. Put the cap on the pen and be patient.

Or speed things up by taking the cap off and running a thin stream of hot water over the barrel for 30 seconds or so. This increases internal pressure, forcing the ink along the section fins.

NB, this step is only for a refilled Vpen / Varsity. Don't try it with anything else, and in case it's not obvious, do this at a washbasin or sink, because You Never Know.

Now use a bit of kitchen paper or loo roll to blot the water which has got on the nib. This has a mild "suction" effect, and when you see ink on the paper (you might need to wet the nib again) your refilled pen is ready for use.

This wet-and-blot nib step can be used to encourage any stubborn fountain pen to get back in action, but the hot water trick, once again, is Vpen only.

Anyway, done.

[yersina]

[part 1]

[tag list: @whalesharksart @sleepyboosstuff]

Steve starts out on his Pokemon journey at the ripe old age of ten, toddling into the Hawkins Laboratory empty-handed and coming out with Piplup’s Pokeball. Just like every other kid in his class. Unlike every other kid in his class, he also has the weight of his dad’s words hanging over his head.

Make me proud, son, his dad had said that morning, and every other morning between his tenth birthday and his appointment at the Lab to get his starter. I don’t want you back here until you’re Champion. His mom had smiled at that, like this was meant to be encouragement. Steve had smiled back, like fear hadn’t trickled down his spine like a particularly malevolent Muk.

So he sets out that day, zero experience under his belt and a sickening churning in his stomach. He discovers that he’s bad at battling pretty quickly—he hates seeing Piplup get hurt, and he doesn’t have the money yet to heal him after every battle. Piplup, to his chagrin, picks up on this right away, and takes to reassuring him after every battle, running over to Steve as soon as the other Pokemon has fainted and raising his flippers pointedly until Steve picks him up and hugs him close.

Steve loves his Piplup so, so much.

(The first time that Piplup doesn’t win a battle, Steve… freaks out, to put it lightly. He scoops him up and rushes him to the nearest Pokemon Center, completely forgetting to pay the other trainer, and anxiously waits the ten minutes that it takes for him to reach the front of the line and for Nurse Joy to put Piplup’s Pokeball in the machine.

Later, he finds the trainer and apologizes, only to be waved off with an understanding smile. “Hey, I get it,” she says lightly. “You might want to re-think the trainer career, though, if you can’t deal with your Pokemon getting hurt.”

Steve thinks on this and thinks and thinks. He’s still thinking.)

-

It takes him six years to beat all the gyms in the region, in the end. The last two take him a year each. By the end of those six years, Steve is tired. He hates battling, probably. It never feels natural no matter how many battles he goes through, but he likes the joy that it seems to give his Pokemon. Empoleon, ever in-tune with Steve, refuses to battle if it’s not for an official gym match. Steve both loves and hates him for it.

He makes a trip back to Hawkins after he beats the last gym, eight badges clutched tightly in their case. He’s not sure what to expect when he gets there, but before he even really has a chance to start wondering, he runs into Ms. Henderson as she’s outside watering her garden.

“Oh, dear,” she says. Steve can’t decipher if it’s a greeting or an exclamation of worry. “What are you doing back here?”

“Visiting my parents?” It comes out like a question. Steve shifts nervously. “Are they… not in town?”

“Oh, dear,” Ms. Henderson repeats, and this time it’s definitely worry. “Sweetie, they moved away a couple of years ago. Sold the house and everything. Didn’t they tell you?”

Steve hasn’t talked with his parents in over two years, not since his obligatory fourteenth birthday phone call that really only amounted to a status report on how far he’d made it through the gym challenge. Never once have they mentioned moving away from Hawkins. “Oh.” All he can think about is how this frees up his weekend.

Somehow, he gets invited into the Henderson’s house and talked into staying for lunch. He learns about how Dustin Henderson left on his Pokemon journey just a year ago, together with his group of friends. They’re interested in attempting the gym challenge, but they want to explore the region first. Dustin’s starter was a Turtwig. Turtwig is much more rambunctious than Dustin and is always getting into trouble before Dustin can rein him in. Dustin caught a Scatterbug and it just evolved into a Spewpa a few days ago. Ms. Henderson is excited to see what pattern the Vivillon will have when it evolves.

Over the course of two hours, Steve learns more about Dustin than he ever knew about Tommy or Carol when they were still friends.

“Oh, but I’m hoping Dusty will come back soon so he can take Growlithe with him,” Ms. Henderson frets. As if to prove her point, a Growlithe bounds into the living room and over to Steve, tail wagging a mile a minute.

Steve reaches out with both hands, digging his fingers into the thick fur of Growlithe’s scruff, and scratches furiously. Growlithe practically melts into his hands. “Who’s a good boy,” he coos. He’s always loved Growlithes, but his parents never let him keep one when growing up. Too much fur in the house. “Has he been giving you a lot of trouble?”

“He doesn’t really get along with my Skitty, which was fine when he was out all the time with Dustin, but my hip can’t keep up with him anymore.” Ms. Henderson also reaches over to pet Growlithe a few times. “He just has too much energy for this little town.”

Steve hesitates, chewing over his next words carefully. “I don’t want to overstep, but I can take him for now, if you want?”

Ms. Henderson gasps. “Would you? Oh, but I don’t want to burden you.”

“It’s no problem, really.” Steve shrugs. “I’ll leave my contact info with you. Whenever Dustin gets back, or if he’s in my area, he can give me a call and I’ll trade him Growlithe back.”

“It would make things a lot easier for me in the house,” Ms. Henderson says reluctantly.

“It’s settled, then.”

Steve walks out of the house with three boxes of leftovers and a Growlithe at his side. This is the warmest he’s ever felt leaving Hawkins, and it’s not just because Growlithe puts off heat like a furnace.

-

It takes another two years until he feels confident enough to challenge the first member of the Elite Four and only half an hour to prove himself right. Jim Hopper—also from Hawkins, funnily enough—takes the loss with grace, but he does look up at the ceiling and groan when he comes over to shake Steve’s hand. “The next generation’s starting to come for us,” he says wryly. Steve’s not quite sure what to say to that, not when he’s still shaking from adrenaline and thinking about the three fainted Pokemon on his belt.

He finds out afterward, after he’s healed all his Pokemon and checked them over personally and given them all celebratory meals, that he has two options: 1) since he’s of age, he can accept responsibility for the Elite Four gym and run it himself, which means that he becomes a member of the Elite Four and forfeits the right to challenge the other members of the Elite Four for a minimum of a year and the Champion for three years, or 2) he can continue onward with the Elite Four challenge and eventually make his way to the Champion.

He almost goes for option 2 on automatic, because that’s been his default for eight long years, but then he stops. And he thinks.

He hasn’t talked to his parents in four years. He doesn’t know where they are, and he can’t really be bothered to care either. He knows for sure that he managed to disappoint them somehow a long time ago already. Maybe it was the fact that it took him so many years to finish the gym challenge. Maybe it was the way he battled, long and drawn out and clumsy, with none of the brutal efficiency of his dad that Steve vaguely remembers from the recordings he used to watch. Maybe he just never had a chance to begin with.

Either way, Steve doesn’t have to give a single thought to what they want out of him anymore. And he doesn’t want to be Champion.

Option 1 it is.

“Hey, you can always call me if you need anything, kid,” Hopper says gruffly when he’s handing Steve the keys to his gym. “No one expects you to know the ropes right off the bat.”

“Thanks.”

Even after Hopper leaves, Steve doesn’t walk into the building. He just stands there, looking blankly at the giant metal structure, and trying to convince himself that it’s his now. “Steve Harrington, Elite Four,” he murmurs to himself under his breath. He wonders if he’ll ever get used to the sound of it.

(It’s not until a year later—a terrifying, whirlwind of a year—that Steve realizes there’s actually a third option: stop being a Pokemon trainer and actually do something that he likes for once.)

-

The year that Steve is on the Elite Four, several things happen:

1. He meets his soulmate, twin from another mother, in the form of a trainer employed at the gym, Robin Buckley. She’s one of the only reasons that Steve manages to survive the ensuing chaos with his sanity even remotely intact.

2. Steve finds out that he has absolutely no talent whatsoever for running a gym, but he does like helping the other trainers with their Pokemon and running training exercises when he can. It’s sort of like being a babysitter, if the babies were covered in metal plates and absolutely capable of giving him a concussion.

3. Dustin Henderson, with absolutely no attention whatsoever to gym protocol, bursts in and demands to speak to him.

4. Steve finds out that the Hawkins Lab has been conducting awful-gross-abhorrent experiments with the aim of giving humans Pokemon abilities, and Dustin needs help taking it down. Steve is apparently the most powerful trainer from Hawkins that he knows, which is the only reason why he trekked all the way out here to find him.

5. Dustin knows about this because one of his friends, Will Byers, was kidnapped to be a subject. Steve remembers Will, faintly. A quiet kid, sweet, liked to draw. The whole thing makes Steve sick to his stomach.

6. Steve drags Dustin, Hopper, and Robin (who is, shockingly, also from Hawkins) with him back to his hometown, where they confront Professor Brenner.

7. In the ensuing battle, Steve works on freeing as many of the captives as possible, which takes the form of asking his Lucario to fire a Hyper Beam at the wall and making sure that no one trips over the rubble as they flee. A Tinkatink, too terrified to move, and a little girl with hair buzzed close to her head, are the last ones left. Steve, not wanting to waste time with figuring out if the Pokemon already has a Pokeball, tucks them each under an arm and gets the fuck out of there.

8. He’s not sure how everything after that happens, really, but Dustin and Hopper meet Steve and Robin at the Pokemon Center when the dust has settled, Will and Joyce Byers in tow. The Tinkatink and the girl—Eleven, apparently, which had broken Steve’s heart—have refused to leave his side.

9. Steve eventually manages to convince El (not Eleven) to go with Hopper. Hopper promises to stay behind and keep everything running smoothly in the town, or as smoothly as things can go when it’s been revealed that the town’s Professor has been running a human experimentation scheme under their noses this whole time. The Tinkatink is a lost cause. Steve adds her to his roster.

10. Steve and Robin troop back to his gym, where Steve promptly has an existential crisis and wonders if he should just quit being a trainer altogether. “Yeah, why not, dingus?” Robin asks him quietly as they look up at the stars together one night. “I don’t think I’ve ever really seen you be happy here.”

And then, a few weeks later, Steve’s contract expires. It takes embarrassingly little thought to pack his things, write Robin a quick note (‘Hey, headed back to Hawkins. Elite Four thing’s not for me. See ya.’), and hop on his Corviknight.

When he arrives in Hawkins, he finds Hopper losing his mind trying to keep all of the kids and Pokemon in order. “Please tell me you’re here to relieve me,” he says, half-jokingly, but Steve can hear the desperation hidden under there. Steve relishes his shock when he tells him that yeah, actually, he is.

In the time it takes Hopper to sort everything out with Joyce Byers (Steve’s not going to question that relationship too much) and move back to his gym, Robin has stormed her way over to Hawkins and back into Steve’s life.

“I can’t believe you thought this was enough of a goodbye, you asshole,” she yells as Steve stacks boxes of Pokeballs to move out of the Lab. “Steve! Are you even listening, dingus?”

“Robin,” he says, catching her flailing arms before she manages to hurt herself. “It wasn’t gonna ever be a goodbye, dingus. I wrote ‘see ya,’ didn’t I?”

Robin’s lower lip wobbles, and Steve realizes that he might’ve miscalculated when he penned the note. “God, I hate you so much,” she says, and wraps him in a hug like a particularly bony Octillery. Steve figures he’s forgiven.

Over the next few weeks, Steve gradually moves everything out from the Lab and converts an unused storefront in town into a Nursery. It feels like a natural choice—most of the Pokemon from the Lab were only babies. He comes to be known as That Person Who Takes Care of Baby Pokemon, and eventually, That Person Who Takes Care of Pokemon in General. It’s the convenient option for most people, especially when no one wants to go to the Pokemon Center two towns away for a checkup.

Ms. Henderson stops by with a casserole. Joyce Byers stops by with stock from the PokeMart. Will Byers stops by with a Sliggoo, which he apparently picked up at the Lab. It has a hard shell and doesn’t look like any Sliggoo Steve’s ever seen. He tentatively stamps it with a clean bill of health and tells him to contact him immediately if it ever shows signs of wanting world domination or anything like that. Will laughs, but Steve’s being mostly serious.

He’s busy pretty much from the second he wakes until the second he collapses into bed, or whenever Robin decides that he needs a break and forcibly closes the Nursery for a day. It’s the most busy he’s ever been, even if he includes when he first started running the gym, and it’s also the happiest he’s ever been.

“I don’t regret this at all,” he tells Robin one night, looking up at the same stars as they always do. It’s a particularly clear night, and the stars glimmer brightly. He wonders if Jirachi had been listening that day, had heard his unspoken wish and granted it for him.

“Yeah, I know,” she says softly. “Me neither.”

In a moment, they’re both going to trudge inside and curl up in bed after a long day, and tomorrow they’re going to wake up and do it again. But for now, they sit together quietly under the light of the stars.

[ask-the-virtual-council]

I posted 5,353 times in 2022

That's 5,353 more posts than 2021!

149 posts created (3%)

5,204 posts reblogged (97%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@samithemanni

@jsab-strawberry

@irummna

@corpsefiend

I tagged 561 of my posts in 2022

#fnaf - 113 posts

#the council has spoken - 81 posts

#william afton - 68 posts

#five nights at freddy's - 58 posts

#afton blogging - 37 posts

#prev tags - 34 posts

#fnaf fanart - 34 posts

#springtrap - 29 posts

#william's reblogs - 23 posts

#michael afton - 21 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes ye-

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Cue Toby just staring at Slender intensely.

"It's been a long time, hasn't it, Slender... Not gonna lie, being your proxy had its perks, but it also had its downsides."

'You're not my Toby, are you?', the thin creature said, crossing his arms.

21 notes - Posted June 7, 2022

#4

Unknown:Uhm...where am i?Am i- *looks around and he can't seem to know where he is* okay, hello?Anyone here? *calles out for anyone* If uhm...i'm disturbing anyone here...i'm sorry, i try my best to go back but...this happens randomly!Can't control it...

A tall, thin figure in a suit approaches him(you called them a 'he', so I'm just inferring). 'How did you even...?', he stutters before reaching out a pale, bony hand to the unknown individual.

29 notes - Posted May 29, 2022

#3

(aight imma shove the last thing i sent in here since the gltch so we can continue the rp)

Zaen's whispering from earlier is a bit louder now, though the words are rubbish. Was he speaking a foreign language?

Zaen looks up, and the Papyrus is somehow startled though nothing about him seems off. Even he questions this as he shakes his head and spawns more bones, "I'm only going easy on you, I do have access to every attack in the multiverse. You could be easily be dead right now, count yourself lucky..But count out the goat, he looks like a goner."

He laughs again, and shoots the bones he's spawned at Zaen and Aliza. They stop abruptly before getting close, and a look of confusion spreads across his face as he tries to get them to move again but fails.

Zaen is scared, yet he looks at him with contempt.

*You look at Zaen with astonishment, but you refuse to bend down and help your brother.

*You look at Aliza, hoping to get an answer as to what happened.

40 notes - Posted May 30, 2022

#2

Random Tidbit of my Ask Blog Universe, if this is received well enough for someone to ask, I might actually start it:

Henry Emily: And then I told him tha-

Bonnie/Jeremy, pops head through small portal: Hey Mr Emily!

Henry: Yeah?

Bonnie: Your Gay!

Henry, thinking he'll win an argument: What about my gay?

Bonnie: It's re-arranging all the furniture in your office!

Henry, leaning into the portal to take a look: What do you me- What the... [proceeds to climb and fall in portal] WILLIAM AFTON GET BACK HERE WITH MY DESK, IT'S FINE WHERE IT IS!

William, dropping desk and running for dear afterlife: FUCK OFF HENRY, I'M TRYING TO MAKE THIS EASIER FOR YOU!

69 notes - Posted May 15, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Frostbite: "ngh!! Where am I..." ((I'm bored, so have an RP starter))

Oh? What's this? Who might you be? [Holds out her gloved hand]

92 notes - Posted May 26, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[beels-burger-babe]

Beelzebub's Very Bad No Good Day

***So this is the new format in which I'll be answering requests. In my experience, actual posts get spread further than asks do, so this will hopefully help with that. ANYWAY, I am crazy excited about this request as a major Beel simp and YES I will proudly do this request! Thank you @sinnoman for blessing me with it. -B*** Summary: Beel doesn't get anything to eat one day, and it doesn't go well for anybody.

From the moment Beelzebub woke up, he knew that today was going to be a terrible day. For starters, he had apparently raided the fridge in his sleep the night before, so there was not a crumb left in the house for anyone to make breakfast with. Most of the others had gone and grabbed something from Hell's Kitchen on their way to class, but poor Beel had slept through his alarm due to the food coma his nighttime snack had put him in and had to rush to RAD. The entire school was talking about the monster that they believed had awoken beneath the school. Teachers were on edge ready to evacuate the premises for the earthquake they believed to be happening. Beel avoided eye contact, blushing as his empty stomach continued to rumble and roar throughout the day. He ended up eating a few pencils just to get it to quiet down and even that didn't have much effect. The Avatar of Gluttony nearly cried tears of relief when the lunch bell rang. But it seemed that fate was not his friend that day. He was going to order a gargantuan-sized Little Devil mango slushy, a side of Hellfire curry rice, fried shadow bat, and 108 seed salad and the main course of at least twenty shadow hog burgers with three servings of caramel shadow tart for dessert. Beel was drooling at just the thought of it. He was almost at the ordering station when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Beel growled and turned around, baring his teeth at whoever dared to disturb him.

Belphegor narrowed his eyebrows in concern. "Woah. Beel, relax. It's just me. We've got a student council meeting, and Lucifer has threatened to take away supper from whoever skips out." Beelzebub scoffed as the air around him darkened at the mention of someone taking food away from him. "I'd like to see him try." Belphie raised an eyebrow at his twin's uncharacteristically grumpy behaviour. "Are you alright, Beel?" As though to answer his question, Beel's stomach let out another loud roar, causing several students to flinch and Beel to scowl in frustration. "I'm hungry." Belphie's frown deepened. Beel was always hungry, but he didn't usually let it get to him like this. The younger twin rifled through his own bag before pulling out an obviously full paper bag. "You can have my lunch if you want. I ate a little bit of it during class and swiped a bagel from Mammon during the first period, so I'm not all that-" Before he could finish Beel ripped the bag out of Belphie's hands and devoured it, bag and all. Belphie blinked at his now empty hand and chuckled as Beel chewed. "Man, you must be starving huh?"

Beelzebub merely grunted and continued to chew before swallowing down the small meal. He glanced back at the lineup in the cafeteria and put a hand on his stomach as he thought about the lunch he should be enjoying. Belphie nudged him. "Come on, big guy. We got to get to that meeting. The sooner we get it over with, the more likely it is that we'll end early and you might be able to grab something before class starts again." Only the meeting was not short and quick like Belphie had said it might be. Diavolo wanted everyone to come up with an idea for a school fundraiser, and Lucifer was arguing with Asmodeus on what was and was not appropriate. To make matters worse, you were unable to attend as, according to Mammon, your charms professor had asked you to stay behind afterwards to discuss your progress in the class. The bickering on top of the lack of food in his stomach was giving Beel a migraine and the longer he sat there, the more irritable he had become. Eventually, it became too much and he snapped. "ENOUGH!" he bellowed, flipping the table as he stood. "No one cares about the stupid fundraiser anyway and you're just wasting all of our time arguing over something that will inevitably fall apart and cause an even bigger mess, just like it always does!" "Beelzebub! Watch your tone in front of-" "Shut it, Lucifer!" his brother's gaped at him in shock as he snarled at their elder. "I am sick and tired of you pushing us all around and punishing us when the slightest thing goes wrong just because you-" Beel poked Lucifer's chest hard enough to make him take a step back, "won't take responsibility for your own mistakes!" "Oh shit," Mammon whispered under his breath, as Lucifer's eyes narrowed and his body tensed in defence. The second-born quickly squeezed his way between the two of them and spread his arms to try and create some distance. "Okay! Tensions are high. People are upset. But this is not the place to brawl it out." he glanced over at Lucifer who looked like he was a second away from stringing him up to the ceiling. "Might I remind ya Lord Diavolo is still in the room?" Lucifer looked over at Diavolo, who appeared to be both hurt and concerned by Beelzebub's words, before sighing and fixing his composure. He gave Beel a hard look. "Obviously something is upsetting you, but we can discuss this at home. For the time being, I recommend you work on calming yourself and clearing your head." Beel just growled at him before stomping out of the student council room. He had been about to re-enter the cafeteria again when the bell rang signalling the end of lunch hour. Beelzebub felt his eye twitch before his demon form burst into existence. He let out a deafening scream as he grabbed a table and threw it across the room (students still seated on it, included). Students were yelling and scrambling like mice as the large demon rampaged through the halls. He tore the locked grate off of the serving station and grabbed the nearest server by the scruff of the collar, causing them to squeak in fear. "I'm hungry," Beel rumbled lowly as the demon trembled in his hands. "Get me something to eat now or I will not hesitate to eat you." "R-R-Right away, Beelzeb-b-bub." Beel carelessly dropped the demon, who scattered off to gather as much food as they could. He began pacing like a caged animal. Having been alerted by all the noise, his brothers and Diavolo rushed into the nearly destroyed cafeteria. Diavolo's jaw dropped. "Beelzebub, what's the meaning of all this?" Beel's famished brain didn't acknowledge Diavolo as an authority at the moment. Instead, he was yet another person trying to keep him from eating. "I need food. NOW!" Lucifer's eyes widened in realization as he whispered something to Diavolo. The prince nodded and took a step back. "I'm sure the cooks are doing all they can to get you food right away. But I need you to control yourself before I am forced to take action." Satan had his phone out and was urgently texting someone, as Belphie moved forward.

"You'll get your food shortly Beel. You just need to wai-" "I don't want to wait!!" There was a part of Beelzebub's brain that was aware he was acting like a child. But his stomach physically hurt from how empty it was. He was tired. He was starving. He didn't have the patience for pleasantries. "I've barely eaten anything all day, and people keep staring and talking about me because my stomach just will not stop growling and I'm so hungry that I can barely think straight! I hate it! But I know it won't go away unless I eat, so I NEED TO EAT!" The brothers looked at Beel in shock. They knew that he ate a lot, but they always passed it off as just another quirk that made him Beel. They didn't know it bothered him like this. They thought back on all the instances where Beel had stated that he was hungry out of nowhere, always with a distressed look on his face. Every single time they had brushed him off. Before any of them could respond, you casually walked into the war zone that was the cafeteria. "Alright Satan, what's so urgent that you needed me so badly?" The room fell quiet as everyone's attention snapped over to you and you took in the situation. It didn't take long for you to connect the dots.

You immediately began to rush over to Beelzebub; Mammon stepped forward to stop you. "Woah, MC! I don't think that's a good idea right now!"

You ignored him and continued to make your way to Beel. Seeing you, the small human that you were, made Beel realize just how reckless he had been acting. He held out his hands to stop you and took a step away. "You should listen to Mammon, MC. I-I haven't eaten all day and I-" "You haven't eaten all day?! Oh god, this is worst than I thought." Beel watched as you slid the oversized backpack that he had seen you carry around RAD with you every day off your back and begin to dump out the contents. In a second, dozens of bags of chips, candy, fruits, and other snacks spilled across the floor in front of the two of you. Beel didn't waste a single moment. He instantly began consuming the snacks, causing you to smile happily. "Wha-What?! MC?! Why the hell do you have that much food on ya?!" Mammon sputtered as he cautiously began to approach you. You shrugged. "Beel gets upset when he's hungry, and I don't like it when he's upset. So I stocked up on some of his favourite snacks a while back and always keep them on me just in case," Beel paused his eating to look up at you in awe, "He can't help that he's always hungry. It's not like he asked to be the Avatar of Gluttony." Suddenly there were a pair of arms wrapped around your waist. Lucifer, Levi, and Mammon called out your name as Beel pulled you tightly against his chest. You just grinned and hugged the friendly giant back. "Thank you," he whispered softly into your hair, his arms tightening around you just a little more. "There's nothing to thank me for." As Beel finally began to calm down, the cooks came out with platters of food and shakily laid them out around you and Beel before taking cover back into the kitchen. Seeing that the threat had passed, the other brothers began to approach as well. "You know Beel, I didn't know you had that much pent-up anger inside of you. It was terrifying!" Asmodeus chirped as he plopped down beside the two of you.

"Yeah! You were just like the antagonist in My Boyfriend Turned Into a Cannabilistic Rage Monster, And Now I Have to Stop Him From Devouring The Whole City!!!" Levi began to ramble about specific scenes from the show that matched perfectly with Beel's rampage, causing Beel to blush as he munched on a burger. Belphie sighed and elbowed Beel as he took his seat at his side. "We'll have to make sure that MC's always around you. Just in case you know?" he smiled softly, before looking at his twin with a more serious expression. "You should've told me about all that stuff you said earlier. I had no idea you felt that away about your appetite." Beel looked away uncomfortably as he took another bite of his food and avoided the question. You snuggled closer to him, to provide him with some comfort. Satan tapped his chin as he watched the group. "I'm sure we could talk with Barbatos and come up with some sort of high-protein shake or bar that would better satisfy you. That way you wouldn't have to eat as much." Lucifer glanced over at Diavolo, silently asking if it was a possibility. The prince smiled warmly. "I'll have Barabatos begin working on something right away." Forgetting all about class and the anger that had previously consumed him, Beel looked around at his family. A warm feeling blossomed in his stomach as he felt content with the rare care and affection that they were openly showing. Maybe it had something to do with the thirty burgers he had already ate, but for just a second, Beel didn't feel so hungry anymore. ***Boy that got a little angsty there for a second, but I hope this was to your liking @sinnoman! I definitely enjoyed writing this one, and I think it made me fall in love with my boy Beel even more 🥰*** TAGLIST: @vampwiire @bunna-does-stuff

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Blind Spot

Spencer Reid x (Gender Neutral) Reader

Word Count: 2640

Warnings: Hair pulling kink! Bucketloads of sexual tension but no actual sex. Gratuitous facts about bird nests. Dorks being oblivious. Lots of fluffy heart-eyed banter. Accusations of intercourse with fictional tree-beasts. 

A/N: I saw a gif that made me want to pull Spencer’s hair. That’s it. I have zero shame. 

For the “friends to lovers” square on my @cmbingo​ card! Proofread by @fangirlxwritesx67​ because she’s the best. 

“You look like you fucked an Ent,” you commented cheerfully, stealing sideways glances at Spencer while you waited for the light to change.  

“Thanks, that’s helpful.” He grimaced, trying to tug another burr out of a snarled curl. 

“Oh my god, you’re just making it worse! I’ll help you when we get back to your place. Leave it, you goober.” 

“Did you just call me a goober?” Spencer asked, trying not to laugh. 

“You’re like the dictionary definition of a goober,” you said fondly. 

“I have three PhDs!”  

“I really wish I’d gotten a video of that tumble, Doctor Goober.” 

Spencer was blushing, grinning down at his lap as he shredded a piece of leaf. It was hard not to stare at him when he smiled like that. 

He’d essentially face-planted into a burr bush earlier, somewhere in the Virginia woods — he’d been so excited about explaining some wonky bit of Star Trek physics theory to you that he just forgot to pay attention to his feet — and he’d floundered out with half a hedge stuck in his hair before picking up exactly where he’d left off. 

In other words, Doctor Spencer Reid was a ridiculous human being. You knew that, objectively. It didn’t stop you from having a massive crush on him. 

Either he was pretending not to notice, to spare your feelings, or he was socially oblivious; you tended to believe the former, considering how well you’d seen him read other people, but you appreciated it. There was a chance you’d make it out of this — if you could just get over it already — with your friendship intact. 

You cleared your throat and told him, “You look like the bastard child of Grandmother Willow and the Wizard of Oz scarecrow.” 

“Even if they were real, the anatomical —” 

“You didn’t mention that when I brought up the Ents. Something you want to tell me about you and Treebeard?” 

“You’re ridiculous,” he huffed, trying to sound exasperated, but he could barely keep a straight face for a second before he was laughing, that scratchy sunny childish giggle that only came out when he was really relaxed and carefree. 

“Close the window before a bird sees you and decides to take up residence.” 

“How about you watch the road?”

“What, no facts about bird nests?” 

“Is that a rhetorical question?” 

“Nope.” 

“Well in that case… gyrfalcon nests are frequently re-used and passed along for generations. The oldest one that’s been discovered was in Greenland, and it was actually estimated to be approximately 2,500 years old.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Yes! In fact…” 

You had to remind yourself, yet again, to stop staring. 

Maybe someday you’d get sick of hearing Spencer talk, but you couldn’t really understand the way most of your teammates reacted to his rambling. Even if you didn’t care about what he was saying, there was something amazing about the way his eyes lit up and his hands fluttered around to illustrate his point.

You parked in front of his building and followed him upstairs. His apartment had become comfortingly familiar — ever since you and Spencer bonded over a shared love of sci-fi, you’d taken to driving him home and, if it wasn’t too late, sticking around for an episode or two of Doctor Who.  

He got his ancient little DVD player up and running, and you settled on the couch, fluffing pillows and shoving aside his nest of colorful crocheted blankets, getting cozy. There was something about Spencer’s space that always felt like home; maybe it was the smell of books, or just the general Spencer-ness of the whole place. 

Just being around him had always kinda felt like home, too. Sometimes you forgot you’d only known him for six months. 

He disappeared into his room for a second and came back with a comb. It was cheap plastic, missing a couple teeth, and looked like it hadn’t been used in a while. You looked from him to the comb and back again. 

“That actually explains a lot,” you said, grinning. Spencer rolled his eyes and sat down on the floor in front of you, leaning back against your shins, and after a dismayed glance at his curls, you commented, “We could always just shave it all off.” 

“I’m not going to dignify that with an answer,” he said primly. 

You started with a couple of the less tangled pieces, finger-combing carefully through one soft lock at a time. You half-expected some comment about primates and social grooming, or at least a few facts about the quantum theory behind the TARDIS, but Spencer was uncharacteristically quiet and still, his eyes fixed on the TV. 

You separated out one of the worst knots, and he tilted his head to the side to give you better access. You were being as gentle as possible, but you knew you were hurting him at the first tug — he sucked in a breath, knuckles going white as his fingers clenched on his knees. 

“Sorry, I’m trying,” you sighed. 

With his head tilted like this, you could see the muscle clenching in his jaw and the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. 

“S’okay,” he whispered hoarsely. “It’s not — not your fault.” 

He sat there stiffly as you worked. His hair was silky, where it wasn’t hopelessly knotted, and you were close enough that you could smell whatever clean, sweet shampoo he used. Something about it made you want to hold your breath; it felt like you were too close. Spencer rarely let you inside his little bubble of personal space. 

Maybe that was why he seemed uncomfortable. He was usually so fidgety, tapping out a rhythm or twirling a pen between his long fingers, and it was strange to see him motionless like this. 

You ran your fingers through a de-tangled section, slow and careful, and Spencer shivered, his shoulders trembling for a moment before he went unnaturally still again. 

Spencer blurted out, “Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”

At the same time, you asked, “Are you cold?” 

You paused for a moment, surprised by the reaction, but after hesitating, Spencer just muttered, “Yeah. Cold.” 

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were missing something. It was too warm, if anything; Spencer had a patchy flush crawling up his neck and over the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones. 

“Here you go, goober,” you said, awkwardly cheerful in an attempt to cover your uncertainty as you grabbed an afghan from the couch and draped it around his shoulders. 

“Thanks.” He pulled the blanket down onto his lap without looking at you. “But maybe I should just do this myself.” 

“You’re never gonna get this loose on your own, not without scissors,” you warned, plucking at the knot around the last burr in his hair. “I’ll just, um — I’ll try to be more gentle.” 

“Maybe just go for it,” he said. “Get it over with.” His voice had gone all high-pitched and strained, like he was on the verge of a panic attack. If this was how much he disliked physical contact, no wonder he always avoided hugging you. 

You tried to go quickly, figuring that one quick moment of pain was better than another ten minutes of making Spencer uncomfortable. In your nervousness, you ended up tugging the burr out much more abruptly than you’d intended, and Spencer let out this rough, low, choked-off sound. Before you could apologize, he was jerking away from you, curled in on himself with his shoulders up around his ears like he was worried you were going to hit him, and — 

“Sorry,” he said, voice cracking. 

— what? 

“Spence?” you said tentatively. “What—”

He was still just curled up on the floor in a ball of gangly limbs, but he half-turned to you, twisting around. He wouldn’t make eye contact, though; he was staring intently at the pillow that was on the couch next to you. It felt weird, looking down at him like this, so you slid down onto the floor, hoping it wouldn’t spook him. He shifted back slightly, but at least he didn’t flinch away. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t — this was a bad idea.” 

The profiler in you couldn’t help but notice a few details. He was blushing, for starters. His lower lip was red where he’d been biting it, and — this was the part that surprised you most — his pupils were huge. 

You knew what Spencer looked like when he was panicking, and this wasn’t it. 

“Oh,” you breathed. “Oh.” 

He looked down at his lap, frowning as he played with the loose thread in the cuff of his sweater. 

“Sorry,” he repeated. “I know you don’t feel the same way, I wasn’t trying to — I didn’t realize it would be like that, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, and—”

“Wait, what?” 

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable! I shouldn’t have asked—”

“I don’t feel the same way about what?” 

“I know you’re not attracted to me,” Spencer said, barely audible. 

“You’re… you…what?” 

He looked up, at that, genuinely startled. There was something sweet and vulnerable shining in his eyes, and your heart was racing. You slid a little bit closer, so that your knees were almost touching Spencer’s as you faced each other, cross-legged. 

“I thought you knew.” His hushed, croaky voice broke on the last word. “I thought I was being obvious.” 

You gaped at him for a second before letting out a sharp, hysterical giggle. 

He ducked his head again, hiding behind a curtain of hair, but not before you saw the hurt expression that flashed across his features. 

“No, that’s not—” you blurted out. “Spence. Spencer.” 

“Forget it,” he said sharply, his body going tense like he was about to bolt. “Can we just forget this happened?” 

Before you could think better of it, you reached out and pushed a few curls back behind his ear, and then you grabbed, twisting your fingers in his hair to tug him forward. You cut off the startled noise he made with a clumsy, eager kiss. 

The angle was all wrong, both of you leaning forward awkwardly, but it felt like sparks all down your spine.

You pulled away just far enough to get the words out: “I thought I was being obvious.”  

Then Spencer was surging closer on his hands and knees, crowding into your space, until you had a lapful of rumpled doctor pressing you back against the couch. He cupped your jaw with gentle spidery fingers, gaze locked on your mouth, and leaned in slowly like he was still waiting for you to push him away. 

There was nothing awkward about it this time. If the first kiss was sparks, this was fireworks — it was such a goddamn cliche you wanted to kick yourself for thinking it, but it was true. Your head was spinning. Every pillowy press of his lips and soft slide of his tongue seemed to steal the breath from your lungs. 

By the time you broke apart you were panting, but at least you weren’t the only one. Spencer’s chest heaved as he pulled away. He was still staring at your mouth like he couldn’t help himself. Part of you wanted to kiss him again and maybe never stop, but another part of you was paralyzed, trying to process the fact that this was actually happening. 

You just wanted to put the world on pause so that you could memorize everything: the way he licked his lips, the smell of his laundry detergent, the barely-perceptible movement of his pulse — you’d never seen that before because you’d never been this close to him before. You wanted to hold onto it, even the less-than-perfect details — the soundtrack of buzzy Dalek screeching in the background — the way you were folded together on the floor, all too-long legs and bony elbows, which was going to get uncomfortable fast.  

Spencer seemed to feel the same way. He grazed the pad of his thumb over your lower lip, then followed the curve of your smile out to your temple and traced the shell of your ear with careful fingertips. When he brushed his curled-up fingers along the ridge of your cheekbone, you turned your head and kissed his knuckles.  

His hand came to rest on your shoulder, and you wrapped your fingers around his wrist, holding it in place, feeling the blood and bones shifting under the skin.  

“You really didn’t know?” you whispered. 

He shook his head shyly and gave you one of those incandescent smiles that always made your heart race. “No idea.” 

“I thought you were just ignoring it to spare my feelings,” you confessed. 

“I thought you were doing that.”  

“I thought you were good at your job!” you laughed. “Aren’t you supposed to be a genius or something?” 

“I think I have a blind spot, where you’re concerned.” He was blushing again. “But I was so distracted by you that I walked into a bush! How did you not —” 

“I’m the one who stares at you all the time like a creep.” 

“You thought you were being creepy?” he said sheepishly. “As soon as you started touching my hair — oh my god that’s embarrassing.” 

“That’s not the word I would’ve used.” 

You tangled your fingers in his curls, tugging experimentally. His breath hitched. 

Both of you were utterly still for a moment, watching each other, and the tension between you seemed to fill the air like a living thing. You were excruciatingly aware of all the places your bodies were touching.

You considered all the places you could touch. It would be so easy. You could tug him in, kiss him, melt into each other… there were so many possibilities, suddenly, and there was something incredible about that: the electricity, the excitement, the moment of pure potential in the pause between certainty and action. 

Spencer sighed, long and shaky, and you were so close that you could feel the current of exhaled air. 

“I couldn’t think straight,” he murmured, with a twitch of a smile. “That doesn’t happen to me often.” 

“So you didn’t know…” 

You scritched your fingernails down his scalp, marveling at the way he shivered and swayed closer like he was hypnotized. He curled his hand around the side of your neck, thumb slowly stroking the hinge of your jaw. 

“I knew I liked it,” he confessed. “But — within a certain context? Not out of nowhere like that. I didn’t think it would be... like that.” 

“Like what?”

“Intense.”  

“Yeah?” 

“But I think maybe it’s just you.” His eyes had gone all glassy and heavy-lidded, and you could barely breathe. “Maybe you drive me crazy no matter where you’re touching me.” 

“I can think of a few ways to test that hypothesis.” 

You caught a glimpse of his grin, but then he pressed his forehead to yours and his features went blurry, too close for you to focus.

“Never really thought I’d be into dirty talk, but if you’re going to start quoting the scientific method…” 

“Funny, most of the time you never shut up,” you said, giddy and overwhelmed. 

The tip of his nose brushed yours. There was maybe an inch of space between your mouths, and you wanted to close that gap so badly it felt like a physical ache. 

“I mean, if you want me to start rattling off statistics—” 

“Spencer.” You fisted both hands in his hair, tugging sharply, and he shuddered. “Take a hint.” 

“Blind spot, remember?” he whispered, lips brushing yours as they shaped the words, feather-light and maddening. 

“You know, for a genius—” you started, but he kissed you, hungry and sweet like he was making up for lost time, until you’d completely forgotten what you were going to say. 

.

.

There is now a sexy follow-up here! 

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If you enjoyed this, please reblog or leave a message! 

[yoonpobs]

we don't talk together | myg

pairing: min yoongi x oc

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, growth! exes that remain exes

words: 2, 842

summary: it's hard to say it's over

What they don't tell you about goodbyes is that it isn't the end.

It's far from the closing of a book. Goodbyes are the itch that urges you to pick up an old book from the shelf just to feel what you first felt when you re-read certain parts of a book; the same remorse you felt when a character you grew attached to didn't get the ending they deserved. Or, maybe it was the villain that was misunderstood—your own heart wishing to reach out to the sad soul that couldn't even be recognised when all they do is speak.

But some books will end up dusty, forgotten, tucked away in the corner of your shelf; or in the most drastic of cases: lost.

"The park looks ... different," Yoongi speaks up for a lack of a better conversation starter.

You hum. What would you say? That it wasn't the same from when we used to spend our Spring's blended into Summer's until it got too hot for us to lay in each other's embrace?

It was still too fresh even though it's been nearly a year.

"There are more dogs," You point out the moment a tan pomeranian runs past the two of you, the owner an old couple laughing away under the cherry blossoms.

He nods, fingers stuffed in his trench coat. You note that it's the same one he wore on your anniversary, plans abandoned when there was a mix-up with the reservations until the two of you stumbled across a hidden gem that soon became your go-to date place.

You will yourself to look away so no more memories can resurface. It seems like every part of your life has somehow seamlessly intertwined itself with traces of Yoongi that it was impossible for you to exist as just yourself.

"How are things at the firm?" He asks after the two of you walked side-by-side in complete silence as more and more chatter fill your ears.

"It's ... going," You chuckle dryly.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow at you, shooting you a brief glance over until the two of you reach a bench. You dare say it's muscle memory that dragged your heavy feet into the direction of the only bench that you've known in the park. The compressed reminder of the initials of your names that you carved as teenagers likely still staining the years old wood. It was meant to be an emblem for wisdom, the ring of growth that meant to be the endgame for the two of you.

You almost laugh in bitterness and how literal the metaphor was.

"Everything okay?"

Yoongi takes the first step to sit on the bench because he always did. Ever the gentlemen when he opened doors for you, let you into the car first, waited until you stepped ahead of him to trail behind like a shield.

The first date, first kiss, first confession.

The first one to decide that it was over.

"My boss is just being sexist, as usual. I thought I'd get used to it after spending two years there but ... there are some things that you just stay unfamiliar, you know?"

It was very like you to speak in double-entendres without intending to. But it was also like Yoongi to pick up on it, especially after years of learning all the best and worst parts of you; he was and probably will be one of the few people in your lives that will always foresee your next move.

The two of you sit a fair distance apart on the bench even if it was a battle for space anyway. You didn't have the liberty to lean into his embrace anymore and he wasn't in the position to say that it was okay for you to breathe, to relax.

"You shouldn't get used to those remarks. There are times where you learn to grow used to constructive criticism but if what he's saying makes you question your worth because of very arbitrary reasons like your gender then that isn't criticism, nor is it constructive. It's bigoted and chauvinistic."

You look down to your thumbs as you fiddle with it, his words comforting you. It was woeful that you still chased validation from him even after learning to be that person to yourself.

"Yeah, I guess."

Then how did you get used to things?

If time didn't make things familiar then what did? Was it not the five years with Yoongi that led you to see him build an empire for himself all the while destroying the relationship that you had? Or was it because he was the person that you thought of doing the most minuscule things?

"By the way," He clears his throat, eyes still set forward, "Namjoon says hi."

You raise an eyebrow, surprised to hear the name of a mutual friend—or more appropriately, friend by association and acquaintance when that link was broken.

"He knows that you're with me?"

Yoongi nods his head.

"I needed to let someone at the studio know and ... well, he's the only one that knew of our situation."

You chuckle bitterly.

Of course. The suggestion of his work only made your heart drop because as much as you wanted to be supportive of him, even after the break-up, the name of his studio or songs only reminded you of the battle that you helplessly lost.

"You can tell him that I'm still a text or phone call away. No need to play messenger," You return.

The atmosphere is more reflective than awkward. You know that the two of you had your pieces to say, your own narrative to tell but neither brave enough to break the calm that you were settled in. It was a nice difference from the way that things ended, and you supposed that you were similar enough to believe in a mirage than the inevitable truth.

But you didn't call him out after six months to sit in silence to walk away with your heart feeling heavier, nor did you invite him out just to remember what it feels like to have him next to you—even in complete silence.

"Would you have really quit?"

This time, you gather all the bravery that you've built over the past few months to ask the question that has been mulling in your mind since the night you decided that it was officially over.

It was a painful break-up. Even if you expected it when Yoongi came home earlier one night with bags under his eyes and his keys that he usually left at the studio because he knew you'd always be home to open the door for him.

"I'm sorry?" He seems taken aback.

You don't blame him. You've always been more passive in dealing with confrontation due to your conflict-averse nature—but that didn't mean you didn't get angry or annoyed—or hurt. But if you learned anything, it was to stop asking yourself questions that you'll never have the answer to.

"Would you really have left the company to save our relationship?"

You chose your words carefully. Instead of saying to be with you, knowing that he lost the love, he had for you somewhere along the way—you point out the one hole that he held on to for the sake of stability. The one thing that was constant in his life with how unpredictable the music industry was.

"Yes."

Somehow, the answer doesn't make you feel better because even with time apart you knew he was lying to save your face.

"You don't owe me anything to lie to my face, Yoongi." You frown.

Yoongi sighs, rubbing his hands across his face as he leaves your statement hanging in the air to mull over his answer.

You prefer the silence that way. It showed that he was at least listening, or cared enough to decide his next set of words. Nothing like how much it pained you to acknowledge the responses you got from him when you were crying were just out of obligation than sincerity.

"No, I wouldn't have."

You nod your head, expectant of the answer but you needed to hear him say it himself rather than drowning yourself in ruminating thoughts of how there was still a semblance of hope that he would've given it up for you, for your relationship—or the life that you were meant to build.

"I wouldn't have asked you to, anyway." You confess.

Yoongi turns his head to look at you and for the first time since you've met at the park, he notices the absence of a necklace around your neck. The necklace that you never took off. He wants to comment on it, ask where it went or if you've pawned it off out of pettiness but he held no remorse towards you. You were tolerant with the break-up even as you sucked in your tears when he knew that it killed you on the inside. Yoongi didn't have the heart in him to ask you.

"Oh."

"You were the one that said you'd quit so we could stay together," You say softly.

Yoongi doesn't respond as he looks back to the night where the two of you sat down to talk about the standing of your relationship. It was a rollercoaster of emotions that started off with an amicable discussion that eventually led to the two of you yelling until you surrendered to your tears and just left the battle completely.

He said a lot of things that night. From things that he's been bottling up for months, to things that he's always wanted to tell you and things that he didn't remotely mean, and things that he's regretted the moment it left his lips.

"I guess I did."

You sigh, leaning back into the bench as you observe a couple walking in front of you, passing your bench as they share an ice cream on a cone; bickering on who'd get the first lick. To anyone, you and Yoongi would've looked just like a couple that has reached a comfortable point in your relationship where intimacy was just sitting next to one another.

But you admit, there was something oddly intimate and heart-breaking about sitting next to someone you've loved with your whole heart and feel nothing but ... weightlessness. Like the burden of your concerns was lifted ever so slightly just being here.

"I wouldn't have made you choose between your relationship or your dream, Yoongi. I would never have done that to you."

Yoongi knew you would never have made him do something as abhorrent as that. You were far too understanding. But you had wanted from him too, that he wasn't willing to provide just yet. He didn't know if it was because of the expiration date to your relationship or because of the stress he was under at work—but he convinced himself that it was you that was asking for too much instead of him compromising too little.

"I ... I know," He whispers, "I'm sorry."

You purse your lips. You try not to let your emotions appear on your sleeve. You were tired of allowing your face to speak before you did. You needed to use the voice you had.

"I loved you so much, Yoongi," You murmur, "I loved you so much that I would have taken anything I could've gotten with you just so I could be with you."

Yoongi stays silent at this.

"I didn't mind if you spent more time at work than at our home. I just wanted to know if I was ever in the picture when you were talking about the future. I know how much you love music and I supported you through every audition and failure ... and to know that I was just—" You swallow, the words still painful to say. But you needed to make your peace with it, "—that I was just someone that would wait for you instead of your partner. That's when I knew that you didn't love me the way I loved you."

Yoongi chokes to speak up but you shake your head.

"No, Yoongi. You loved me, you did. But somewhere along the way you stopped and you just pretended that we were okay even when I was trying my best to fix the seams. I wasn't your girlfriend anymore, I was just someone familiar to you and I didn't deserve to feel that way." You tell him sternly.

Yoongi surrenders to his silence as you take a deep breath to continue.

"Maybe I loved you too much in a way that you couldn't understand."

"_______, don't say that—" His eyes widen when he tries to reach a hand to yours to comfort you, but your body language remains stoic as you keep your hands in your lap.

"—and that's okay Yoongi. I loved you but not in the way you needed. I'm not here to make you feel bad about what I chose to do on my own because it wasn't my fault that I couldn't be what you need." You say sadly, but a small smile on your face as you finally say the words that have been eating at you for months.

"... okay," Yoongi accepts.

"We all have different ways to love and be loved. I loved you and that was enough for you at one point but love isn't all a relationship needs. You loved me too, in your own way and I accepted that but just because it was enough for me doesn't mean it was enough for us." You glance over at him to see him staring at you intently.

"I'm sorry that things turned out this way," Yoongi says softly, eyes gentle.

You wave him off.

"I don't think I'll ever love someone as much as I loved you, though," He confesses, eyes returning to the scene in front of him filled with different colours of life that seemed to look vibrant under the Spring sunset.

You shake your head and chuckle softly.

"You say that now but you'll meet someone one day and you'll remember all the reasons why you love in the first place. And it'll be enough for you, and them."

He shrugs, a small smile itching on his face.

"I really did love you," He says, "But I'm sorry for not being honest with you. I owe you that much of an apology."

"We're not here to forgive or forget, Yoongi," You look at him kindly, "We're here to move on."

He purses his lips and hums, nodding his head.

"I hope you get that promotion at work you were talking about months ago, ______." Yoongi offers, a gentle grin marring his face.

"I did," You shrug.

It feels liberating to have achieved something and only feeling content by acknowledging it yourself. Months ago, you would've hurt at the fact that Yoongi didn't know. But the change you welcomed after the end only showed you that there was a new path for you to walk on.

His eyes widen, but eventually, he chuckles and shakes his head, muttering something under his breath that sounded a lot like knew it.

You push yourself off the bench, dusting your hands on your pants as you offer him one last smile before you say goodbye for the second time.

"I hope you find someone who you'll love more than you ever did with me." You tease.

He rolls his eyes.

"Impossible," The grin on his face is easy, and your heart still clenches at the nonchalance, but you don't expect the feeling to go away so easily—nor do you mind. It just shows that you needed to wait and that you were willing to do it.

"Of course you will. You're a musician, Yoongi. You need a muse," You smirk at him as you turn around, a small wave on your hand to say goodbye.

As you walk away and his body gets smaller and smaller from your vision, you turn around to say:

"We don't talk together is a beautiful song."

Yoongi's smile is genuine, and so is his goodbye. A gentle acknowledgment of his hand as he stands up himself, walking to the other direction of where you were headed.

You still had a love for Yoongi, and you suppose you always will. Just like how you would feel pleasant when rediscovering a childhood hobby that triggers a fond memory, or how you love different things in your life in different ways. Whether or not you love someone more than you've ever loved Yoongi isn't your concern, because when love comes in one form, it goes in another.

When you still take the same route you'd usually take with Yoongi after your walks back home, you pass the cafe you used to frequent to see that it's replaced with a new bar. You smile fondly to yourself, shaking your head.

You loved that place.

But eventually, you'll find another cafe with a beautiful interior and a latte to match, and you'll love it too.

[shindidnothingwrong]

I genuinely cant tell whos more useless at this point, Sumire or Code.

If it wasnt obvious this is gonna be an anti Sumire and Code post, you’ve been warned. Manga spoilers too so if your anime only dont read this.

For starters this isnt really anti Sumire as it is the writing, but given the writing for her is shit I have no choice but to work with what they give me.

Lets start with Code, he was talking mad spicy and his limiters being removed have been hyped up since they were first mentioned, and even before the topic of his limiters came up he was portrayed as still being able to rival Naruto and Sasuke.

He says after he gets his limiters off that now he cant lose to anyone, only to get his ass whooped by a child who looks no older than 8

Code is utterly useless, he was given a huge tip on how Daemons powers work and he still got his ass whooped and Daemon himself says hes the strongest out of everyone, a literal child is somehow stronger than unlimited Code, Isshiki, Naruto, and Sasuke combined. Thats a whole other bag of worms to be discussed later but right now we’re just focusing on Code.

This is pathetic, all that hype with zero pay off, all that big talk just to get overpowered by a child, all that planning yet he couldnt see the double cross anyone with even the slightest bit of common sense would’ve saw coming a mile away. The fact that everyone, and I do mean EVERYONE including Bug has called him useless is a testament to just how BAD he is at everything he tries to do.

Now lets move on to Sumire, self appointed ‘sherlock holmes’, remember all this?

We really should’ve saw this coming when Amado said this, he was right on the money because thats exactly what she is, stupid.

From the very beginning shes been suspicious of him, thats her whole reason for becoming his ‘assistant’, to keep an eye on him and of course to ask Kawaki about Boruto but thats a separate topic. She appointed HERSELF as a spy because SHE was suspicious of him, thats why shes there working with him. Amado even calls her a genius and claims she was such a ‘oh so big’ help to him during the process of recreating and reattaching Kawakis arm, which is an important detail for what Im about to say next.

EXCUSE ME? IRRATIONAL GROUNDLESS FEAR? NO PROOF?

HE TOLD YOU HE COULD RE-IMPLANT KARMA ON KAWAKI WHICH HE DIDNT TELL ANYONE ELSE

HE TOLD YOU HE HAD A HIDDEN AGENDA FOR KAWAKI THAT HES PURPOSEFULLY NOT TELLING YOU OR ANYONE ELSE WHAT IT IS

HES ACTED SUSPICIOUS MULTIPLE TIMES WITH HIS UNUSUAL CONCERN FOR KAWAKI THATS CLEARLY MOTIVATED BY HIS OWN SELF INTEREST

SO HOW TF IS HER SUSPICIONS GROUNDLESS AND HOW TF DOES SHE NOT HAVE ANY PROOF? HES LITERALLY TOLD HER EVERYTHING TO HER FACE!!!!

Now how does this make her useless you ask? glad you asked

Amado put Karma back on Kawaki right under her nose, keep in mind, the whole reason she became his assistant was because she was suspicious of him and wanted to keep an eye on him, AMADO HIMSELF says that she was VERY much involved with the reattaching of Kawakis arm, he says he COULDNT have done it without her.

Now this implies 1 of 2 things

1 Amado was lyin his ass off and Sumire really didnt do much of anything, he just said that to make it seem like she did something

2 Sumire is fkin useless and didnt pay attention to what he was doing like she was supposed to

But lets give her the benefit of the doubt and say maybe the Karma implantation was something unnoticeable, lets just go ahead and say thats true

Explain this then

He not only re-implanted Karma right under Sumire’s nose, but he also put an emergency shut down function right infront of her too that now gives Amado and Ada/Daemon all the leverage that should’ve been prevented.

YOU. HAD. ONE. FKING. JOB. AND. YOU. BLEW. IT.

I dont wanna hear Sumire stans ever talk about her being a genius, her having this grand plan, her being sherlock holmes which the fkin audacity to even put them in the same sentence when THIS is her detective work, I dont wanna hear none of it.

All that true heroine, important role, genius, super spy nonsense is all out the fkin window now, this is absolutely indefensible no matter how much you stan her shes a danm DISGRACE.

Keep in mind to put in an emergency shut down function that’ll effect his entire body he has to put SOMETHING in him, something that’d have to look suspicious for just reattaching his arm and you want me to believe she just DIDNT question it? and if she did and he gave a half assed answer she just went along with it? she didnt tell nobody?

Fucking USELESS.

But hey dont get me wrong, Im not blaming everything on Sumire because lets be real, none of this would’ve happened if the grown ass men in charge actually PUT Amado under tight surveillance by Jonin like Sai and Hibiki who specialize in spying, interrogation, and intelligence work, hell to be extra thorough assign a Yamanaka there as well to probe his brain if they sense he not bein totally honest with them. 

Why was he constantly left alone with a danm child as the only person watching him and that was by her own CHOICE not cuz anyone was suspicious and asked her to spy on him no, she CHOSE to spy on him from her own suspicions, which means if she HADNT been suspicious then Amado would’ve been operating on Kawaki totally unsupervised!!!!

So please dont get it twisted and think this is me putting it all on Sumire nah, there are plenty of other ppl just as much at fault here if not more so, Naruto and Shikamaru being the biggest ones at fault for whats happening because of their complete and total incompetence.

Regardless that doesnt excuse Sumire from any of the blame, EVERYBODY should be held accountable for their role in this happening and that includes her, because she was the only one watchin him, she heard from his own mouth of his ulterior motives and alerted NO ONE, she watched and helped him work on Kawaki and she noticed NOTHING and if she did she clearly still let it happen without telling anyone what she saw to demand an explanation. She kept questioning Amado HERSELF and getting zero answers as if he has any reason to respond to some kid askin questions instead of going and getting ppl higher up who CAN make him talk like the mf Hokage or his advisor or hell even Sai who was RIGHT THERE WITH HER and she STILL kept her mouth shut.

THERE. IS. NO. DEFENDING. THIS.

Sumire and Code are the two most useless characters in this sequel thus far which is a feat I didnt think anyone could ever share with Code but this chapter just proved it can. I genuine feel bad for how Code has been utterly disrespected beyond repair and I feel bad for Sumire and how shit shes been written, be that as it may I dont feel too bad because we’ve been saying this was gonna happen for the longest now but stans kept claiming what a big important role she was gonna have and how she has this grand plan that not only was her role unimportant and simply to point out Amado was sus which everyone already knew, but she also had no plan and she herself admits she wasnt even confident in her own suspicions which is why she carelessly allowed all of this to happen right under her watch. Its a bad time to be a Sumire fan for manga readers right now.

And before you say it, its a bad time to be a Sarada and Mitsuki fan too, practically no one is safe from poor writing in this manga. Its just that as of right now Sumire and Code have it the worst.

[ohhipstaplease]

Strawberry Sugar | NH

In which an uncharacteristically bashful Naruto finally realizes he’s in love with Hinata over a slice of strawberry shortcake.

nsfw | semi-canon divergence | ongoing

Read: Ao3 / FFN

Chapter 1

They say it takes about three seconds to fall in love with someone, but how long does it take to be reciprocated? That was exactly the question that Hinata Hyuga asked herself time and time again.

Ever since she had blatantly admitted her love to the boy she had been fawning over since their schoolyard days, she had realized that perhaps if it didn't happen within those three minuscule seconds, it never would. After all, love was something you either felt or you didn't, and clearly her golden boy, well, it seemed as if he felt the latter.

Hinata's cheeks reddened at the thought of her confession. It had come at the most unexpected, and perhaps, most inappropriate times—right at the cusp of the Fourth Shinobi World War. To be completely fair, she had believed that she would not survive the battle. She had really thought that was the final stand for her, and who better to take it for. She was willing to put his life before hers, the whole village was. Ultimately, he was the one who would save the entirety of the nation. What was one for many? But before she confronted her own mortality, she only thought it right to make it clear to him why she was willing to so easily die for him.

But he didn't understand. Or rather, he did, but not to the extent that Hinata had hoped. Quite clearly she was alive and well. The sun shined, the birds chirped loudly, and the familiar smells of the various shops preparing for the breakfast rush surrounded her. But still, even though she had made her confession, even though she had been on the brink of death right alongside him, nothing had changed.

She had thought that the moment would bring clarity, not only to her but to the boy who had been the reason she had become the woman she was now. But it had been over a year and he had not said a word about the matter. But, then again, it was in the middle of a battle, so you know, emotions run high. He could have written it off to that whole thing about being confronted with your mortality and saying things you don't wholeheartedly mean in the heat of the moment. Or he could have confused the love she had confessed to him for one similar to that of which he felt for his longtime rival Sasuke. You know, the sibling kind of love that has nothing amorous or passionate to do with it? That's the one.

Why did Hinata think that? Well for starters Naruto had taken to calling her for trivial things, things that honestly did not put her anywhere other than in the friend zone. From walking him back to his apartment after his physical therapy, to just helping him pick out a new rug for his too-cold wooden floor, Naruto had, perhaps without realizing, told Hinata what he had thought of her declaration without saying a word.

Hinata constantly ran various scenarios through her head, but all she could come up with was that Naruto simply didn't reciprocate what she felt for him. That she had to let it go.

And just as she ran that thought through her mind for the billionth time, she found herself bumping into Sakura Haruno, one-third of Team 7, and currently, one of Naruto's closest confidants.

"Hinata! It's been so long"

Hinata's lavender eyes widened in surprise as she saw a blur of pink and maroon before feeling a pair of strong, almost too strong, arms around her shoulders.

"Sa-Sakura-chan"

"Yes?"

"You're hurting me"

Sakura stepped back and laughed loudly, a big smile upon her face. Her cherry blossom colored hair was slightly askew, her clothes a little worn, clearly she was coming back from some mission or another she had most likely been sent on.

"How are you?" Sakura asked, taking hold of Hinata's hand.

Hinata curled her fingers around her friend's and smiled, "I've been alright. Hanabi's birthday is tomorrow, I just wanted to make sure that we had her favorite strawberry shortcake at home."

Sakura nearly squealed, "She's getting so big! I can't believe she's turning fourteen!"

"I know," Hinata exclaimed, "I can barely believe it myself."

"Are you heading to the bakery? I'll walk with you, I need some things myself. My fridge is completely empty! Can you believe I went home expecting to have at least instant ramen in the cupboard and I found absolutely nothing?"

"Oh, you need to take better care of yourself," Hinata said, concern clearly etched upon her face.

"Tell that to Naruto. You know he's planning on going on missions soon? I don't know who in their right mind would clear that, Tsunade-sama hasn't even finished working on his arm. I really don't know what to do with him."

"Hmm," Hinata mumbled, blushing and looking down at the gravel under her feet.

Sakura held back a chuckle, "He still hasn't said anything, has he?

"About?"

"You know what about."

"I-I uh."

"Don't get all worked up," Sakura said, looking at her friend's changing complexion. Beads of sweat began to form upon Hinata's forehead, and her once smooth and warm hand became clammy at the mention of Naruto's name.

"I-I'm not."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Okay, then tell me why you're going out with Naruto, again, if he has not mentioned anything about what happened."

Hinata didn't want to seem rude, but she let go of Sakura's hand to push back her too-long bangs off of her forehead, "He needed some help picking out a gift for Lord Hokage-sama."

"Ah, yes. He did say he had his eye on something for Kaka—I mean lord sixth. God, baka, I keep forgetting."

"It's okay. I'm sure Lord Hokage doesn't mind. You were a part of his team."

Hinata said, recalling how uneasy the Sixth Hokage had been in the first place in regards to his new title and position.

"Yeah, but formalities are formalities. He's not just my sensei anymore, you know?"

Hinata nodded, "I understand, Sakura-chan."

"You always do," Sakura said, unintentionally rolling her eyes.

Hinata stiffened, wondering what she had done to insult her friend, "What does that mean?"

"If you keep being this understanding, you're never going to get anywhere."

Hinata understood, of course, she did. She and Sakura had spoken about this time and time again, but she didn't have the heart to fight her today. So she simply responded, "I don't know what you could possibly-", only to be cut off by the pink-haired girl.

"You know exactly what I mean, Hinata. Please, just talk to him. You mustered the courage to say something all that time ago. Why not again?"

"Because..."

"Because?"

Hinata avoided looking at Sakura's too intense stare and mumbled, "What if he rejects me? What if he didn't say anything because he really just wasn't interested."

"Oh, please."

"What?"

"He's interested."

"How could you be so sure?"

Sakura shrugged, "Sometimes you just know."

"And if he isn't?" Hinata asked.

Sakura jokingly drew her fist roughly to her hand, "Need I say anything else?"

Hinata gulped knowing Sakura's strength, "Please don't hurt him."

"If he doesn't hurt you, then I don't have to," Sakura said sweetly.

"Oh, Sakura-chan."

"Never mind me, let's go get that strawberry shortcake. I have to be back by noon, I promised Shizune I'd take over so she can take a break," She said, linking her arm through Hinata's and turning them both in the direction of the bakery.

Hinata chewed the side of her cheek, careful not to draw blood...again. She didn't know how'd she muster the courage once more, but Sakura was right. Something had to be done.

————————————————————-

Hinata arrived home within the hour, strawberry shortcake in hand. She had spent the better part of the morning in an inner debate, wondering whether or not she should once and for all just re-confess to Naruto.

"Oneechan?"

Hinata's head snapped up as she saw her younger sister walk into the kitchen, with the cake still in plain sight. Hinata quickly stepped in front of it, in hopes that Hanabi would not see it.

"H-hi!" She said, excitedly waving her hands.

Hanabi tilted her head slightly, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Just fine." Hinata leaned against the counter in hopes of looking more relaxed.

"Did you go out?"

"Yes. I ran into Sakura."

"Oh, that's nice."

"How was your training?" Hinata asked, not moving an inch.

"Fine. You know how it is with otousan. Can't even take a day off for my birthday."

"He only wants the-"

"Best for me. I know Onee-chan, I know," Hanabi finished with a sigh.

"Well, at least tonight we can all have dinner together," Hinata tried, with a smile.

Hanabi nodded and walked towards the water pitcher on the table, "Did you run into anyone else while you were out?"

"Oh, no. Just Sakura."

"Not Naruto?" She asked as she poured her glass of water.

"Why would you ask that?"

"Well, you two have been hanging out quite a bit."

"He's needed help with some things, you know?"

"I do. And I also think that considering you confessed to him-"

Hinata sighed, "Why does everyone keep saying that."

"Because you did it! You confessed to him!"

"Shhh! Otousan is going to hear, Hanabi."

"Oh, like he hasn't already. It's only been going around the entire village."

"No, it hasn't!"

Hanabi smirked, her violet eyes twinkling mischievously, "If you two are so close, why don't you just call him up and tell him you want to see him."

"Why would I do that?"

"So that you can confess to the stupid idiot again."

"Hanabi!"

"Hinata, please, the entire village is on edge waiting for you two to finally just get over yourselves and get it on with it."

"What!?"

"Just call him so we can cut the cake, please."

"You knew?" Hinata asked, looking behind her.

"Oh please," Hanabi said in her sweetest voice, "I knew you were getting it the moment you said you were going into town. Now please, call him and so you two can finally just get married."

"We're just friends!" Hinata said her pale face reddening.

"Right. Friends that are probably going to have babies together."

"Get out!"

"Cake? Soon?"

"Out, Hanabi!"

Hinata rubbed her temples as she avoided the general direction of the phone. She knew what she needed to do, it was as easy as picking up the phone and dialing a number.

"Just do it already!"

Hinata turned to see Hanabi peering at her from the doorway, "Fine!"

"I'm not leaving until you do it."

Hinata walked over to the phone on the wall, tentatively grabbed it, and slowly typed in the numbers she clearly knew by heart. It wasn't until Hanabi heard Naruto's unmistakable voice on the other line that she turned on her heel and left Hinata to make plans with him for the next day.

[giggles-and-freckles]

Can you do "I'm just a little cold, I'm okay, really. Let me sit with a blanket or something" with anakin (cause desert kid) and obi wan and cuddles?

from these extremely exhausted starters

“And that one?”

“Bassin Minor.”

“Good,” Obi-Wan nodded. Anakin tried not to sink too deep into the pride Obi-Wan seeped into their bond. “You’ve been studying.”

“You don’t let me do anything else,” Anakin said to shield his own joy at Obi-Wan’s praise. He was a teenager now; Obi-Wan didn’t need to know that Anakin still cared about his opinion.

“Ah, yes,” the older Jedi surveyed the star map thoughtfully. “I had a lapse and momentarily forgot what a terrible, totalitarian teacher I am.”

“I don’t know what that word means, but it sounds like something you’d be.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “Perhaps you should focus on your politics now that you’ve mastered constellations.”

Anakin shifted in his seat. “Politics are stupid.”

“Very good, Padawan,” Obi-Wan beamed in jest. “A lesson better learned early on.” A dismal frown replaced his smile. “Unfortunately, they still dictate a large part of our lives.”

“I dictate my own life,” Anakin said with all the confidence of a thirteen-year-old who knew everything. He leaned back in his seat and put his feet on the holo-projector.

Obi-Wan shoved them back to the floor.

“We’re landing soon. Get your parka.”

It was music to Anakin’s ears. It seemed like they’d been flying forever and he wasn’t even being allowed to pilot, so all he had for entertainment was a star map, a broken mouse droid (which he’d finished repairing six hours ago), and Obi-Wan.

Anakin needed off this kriffing ship.

He stood from his seat, quickly–and immediately fell back down. His head suddenly felt heavy and his vision swam. Weird.

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan called from the small room in the back of the ship. “Parka! Some time today, please.”

“Coming,” Anakin groaned, standing again–slowly this time–and holding his head as he walked.

Every step toward the back room tugged at muscles that shouldn’t be sore. Maybe he’d just been sitting too long, but it seemed strange for him to suddenly ache all over, when he hadn’t even done any physical training in a few days.

“Here,” Obi-Wan shoved a parka into his chest as soon as he got in the doorway. “Make sure it’s zipped.”

“Okay, okay,” Anakin mumbled, sliding it over his robes. 

“If your feet get cold, tell me. I don’t want a repeat of–”

“Master. I’ve been to Halak IV before.”

“Yes, and I practically carried you the entire way back to the ship because you were whining.”

“Oh,” Anakin grinned sheepishly, tugging on his earmuffs. “Right.”

Obi-Wan moved past his Padawan into the main hall. “I’m going to check on the cargo bay and see if everything’s secure for landing. You go ahead to the cockpit and supervise the autopilot.”

“Can’t I put it on manual just for landing?” Anakin pleaded.

“No. Now go.”

Anakin watched his Master walk away with a sour pout. Obi-Wan was no fun when he was stressed–and he was almost always stressed. 

He made his way to the cockpit and settled into his seat. Supervise the autopilot. Stupid.

Nothing was visible through the thick atmosphere they were flying through, but they must be getting closer to ground-level because the air in the room ran cold and Anakin barely managed to contain a shiver.

It was strange, because even though his body was freezing, his head felt warm–and still so heavy. He leaned against the back of his seat and tried to pinpoint the pressure. Maybe this atmosphere had less oxygen than they had anticipated?

That could be a problem.

“Hey, Master?” Anakin tried to shout to the back of the ship, but quickly clamped his mouth shut. Obi-Wan had always been impressed with his ability to speak at obscene decibels, but suddenly, Anakin found that his throat was tight and unable to produce more than a whisper.

It had been a little sore earlier, but this was ridiculous.

He rubbed at his throat with a frown and tried again. “Master Obi-Wan!”

The throat only tightened and the pressure in his head amplified. He was so distracted by the pain, he didn’t manage to catch himself before shivering along with the next wave of chills that overtook him.

“What’s wrong?” Obi-Wan’s voice came from behind him.

Anakin spun around his chair and winced. When his feet planted themselves on the ground, the room didn’t stop spinning. “I think–” He pressed on his temple, willing the pain to go away. “I think we read the–stats wrong. The atmosphere seems...ugh, highly pressurised. And not oxygen based.”

Instead of insisting they hadn’t read the stats wrong because Obi-Wan Kenobi didn’t do anything wrong as Anakin expected, the older Jedi only stood in the doorway of the cockpit and studied his student with a frown.

“What?” Anakin asked, uncomfortable under his gaze.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Huh? Nothing.”

“You’re shivering.”

He shrugged as casually as his headache would allow him. “Just cold.”

Obi-Wan didn’t look like he was listening. Instead, he dropped into a crouch in front of Anakin’s chair and laid a palm against Anakin’s forehead.

“You’re burning up,” Obi-Wan said quietly. Concern flickered through their bond.

Anakin pulled away. “I’m fine.”

“Have you been feeling like this all day?”

“I’m fine, Master.”

“You’re staying on the ship.” And, like that, Obi-Wan was back on his feet and walking out of the cockpit.

“What?” Anakin cried, jumping up to follow. Immediately regretted it. His head–ow, ow, owww.

He fell back into the seat with a groan. “Master!” he yelled, his voice straining and stretching

“You have a fever, Anakin,” Obi-Wan called from the main room before striding back into the cockpit with a heap of emergency blankets. “I’ll drop off the supplies. You stay and rest.”

His voice came out garbled behind all of the blankets, but Anakin understood enough to scoff in protest. “No way, Master! I’ve been stuck at the Temple for your last two missions. I–oof.” His words were cut off as Obi-Wan unceremoniously dropped the heap of fabric into his lap. “Master Obi-Wan.”

“Don’t Master Obi-Wan me. You’re sick and I won’t have you going out into the freezing cold and getting even sicker. Now strap in. We’re landing.”

Anakin made sure to click his seatbelt as loudly as possible and give a disdainful groan to make sure Obi-Wan knew just how unfair this was.

…

He wasn’t sure when he’d fallen asleep or how long Obi-Wan had been gone, but it had felt like hours since his Master had gotten off the ship and locked it behind him, leaving Anakin frowning under a few hundred tons of blankets.

But suddenly, he was being lightly jostled and–

“Master?” he slurred, blinked up at the face hovered a couple inches above his.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan said, pulling back. “You’re awake.”

“Why are you on top of me?”

“I’m trying to undo your seatbelt.”

“But you always say that safety is–”

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan sighed, but the corners of his lips quivered. “We’re on the way back to Coruscant. The mission went off without a hitch. I have auto-pilot set. Go to the back room and sleep.”

“Not tired,” Anakin lied. 

“Bed.”

“I'm just a little cold, I'm okay, really.” Anakin scrambled to sit up and realised he was, in fact, very cold. “Let me sit with a blanket or something.”

“Padawan,” Obi-Wan said, gently. Why was Obi-Wan being so nice? “I’m worried about you. I’d feel better if you were getting real rest in a real bed.”

“That’s not a real bed,” Anakin pointed out.

“Please.” And something about the way he pleaded instead of demanded it. Like it was a personal favour he was asking his Padawan to complete–

“Okay.”

Anakin didn’t need help walking to the back room, but he let Obi-Wan guide his shoulder anyway, because something told him it’s what Obi-Wan needed.

And it definitely didn’t count as a real bed, but maybe Obi-Wan had been right, because it sure looked more inviting than the stiff seat in the cockpit. He stumbled into it and Obi-Wan’s hand didn’t leave his shoulder.

“Are you hungry? Thirsty?” the older Jedi asked and, for the first time in Anakin’s life, he thought maybe his Master looked a little unsure of himself.

“No.”

“Okay,” Obi-Wan nodded quickly to himself. “Okay. Okay.”

“Master?”

Obi-Wan’s head snapped up. “Yeah?”

“You said that three times.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan breathed and then chuckled awkwardly. “Sorry.” Then, he looked back at Anakin. “Do you need more blankets?”

Anakin grinned, looking down at the mountain of fabric on top of him. “I think I’m set.” But his teeth chattered anyway and Obi-Wan’s frown deepened.

“I don’t have any medicine,” Obi-Wan muttered to himself, his eyes flickering around the room as if he had the ability to speak it into existence. “I could comm Bant and see if she could–

“Obi?” Anakin asked, too tired to be embarrassed by the old nickname that tumbled through. “I’m okay, but would you–would you just stay?”

He felt like a youngling again–like the nine-year-old who had known nothing about this life and had relied completely on his Master. Obi-Wan had been there for him every single time, even in the midst of losing his own Master. It was something Anakin had only recently found the time to process and be grateful for. 

Obi-Wan’s face softened and Anakin felt warmth through their bond. “Of course.”

Anakin moved as far toward the wall as he could and Obi-Wan’s eyebrows lifted of their own accord, like he’d only just realised what Anakin meant by ‘stay.’ In that moment, Anakin’s bravery crumbled–he was so stupid. Too old to ask Obi-Wan to sleep with him. Too grown, too big, too independent–

Obi-Wan climbed into the tiny bed and rested his back against the wall, dropping his hand to rest on Anakin’s head, his fingers absentmindedly moving through the small curls that had formed in the absence of a haircut. 

“Hey, Master?” Anakin said, his voice coming out quiet and croaky. Relieved. At peace. Safe.

“Yes, young one?”

“You’re good at taking care of people.”

The tiny movements in his hair froze for a moment and Anakin wondered if he’d said something wrong. But then–the movements resumed and Anakin didn’t need to see his Master to sense his smile. Obi-Wan’s smiles were always like this. The genuine ones anyway. Blinding and merciless in the way they spread through a room, touching every heart in their path and almost always pulling smiles in response.

Anakin thought he was pretty lucky to get to be on the receiving end so often.

[jusvibbbin]

The Perfect Piece

Data x Reader Insert

You turned to look at the class. “See, was that so bad?” The class stared at the board and groaned. Your smile faltered and you looked back at the board. Maybe they weren’t ready for division. You checked the clock and the smile reappeared. Or maybe it’s because it’s 2:05 on a Friday. You decided to be merciful to the fourth grade class and let them out early. 

“Well maybe that was kind of difficult,” you chuckled. “Why don’t we spend one more weekend on multiplication and next Monday we’ll pick the division back up. Class dismissed!” The children shot up and grabbed their PADDs before running out the door. You shook your head and walked over to your desk. Might as well get some grading done and call it a day. You were just as ready to go home as the class. 

“Excuse me (Miss/Mister/Prof) (Y/L/N)?”

You looked up at none other than Lieutenant Commander Data. You felt your cheeks heat up slightly. The Commander had a reputation for talking for far too long and making situations unnecessarily awkward, but you found him cute and at times, quite funny. The two of you spoke very rarely; at holiday parties or on Picard Day, if he chose to accompany the ever-uncomfortable Captain. 

“Commander! What an unexpected surprise!” you smiled, standing from behind the desk to walk around and meet him in the middle of the classroom. 

“Is not every surprise unexpected?” Data queried, giving a slight smile to mirror your expression. You blinked and inwardly smacked yourself. Wow what an opener. You laugh it off, clearly embarrassed. 

“I suppose that’s true. To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

Data looked around the classroom at the decorations the various classes had made to give the classroom ‘lived-in’ feel, away from the sterile and by-the-book Starfleet look. 

“I wish to discuss your classroom.”

“What? Really?” you beamed, proud of the work your students had done.

Data nodded. “I would like to give my quarters more of a personal touch. I have observed that your classroom is decorated with the artwork of the children, regardless of if it is not well made.”

You choked on the air in your throat and started laughing.

“Mr. Data!! You can’t say that! It will discourage the children.” 

Data looked around the room and out into the adjacent corridor. He looked back at you and met your eyes. You took in how close the two of you were, but did nothing to widen the gap.

“I apologize if I offended you but I did not see any children present to hear my comment. I am only curious as to why you put it all up despite the varying quality.”

“Well…” you smiled at him, never breaking the eye contact he established. “It helps show the children that the room belongs to them as much as it does anyone else. I even put a piece up.” 

Data’s eyebrows raised at this. 

“Which one is yours?” There was almost an excitement behind his eyes but you shook away the thought. Data doesn’t have feelings like that. 

“You’ll have to guess.” you responded almost flirtatiously. Data flashed you a full smile and your knees nearly buckled. You placed a hand on the closest desk, hoping that your attempt to stabilize yourself looked more casual than it felt. 

Data began walking around the room, looking at the pieces on the walls, the shelves and hanging from the ceiling. You smiled, knowing yours was on the complete other side of the room. Data stopped walking and turned to look at you, smirking with something like confidence. Good God, how much time did his creator spend on his eyes? It must have taken…

“(Y/N)?” Data said, confusion laced in his voice as he looked at your glazed over eyes.

“Oh gosh, Data! I’m sorry I must have been somewhere else.” You chuckled awkwardly as you cursed yourself for being so infatuated with the one man who could not return your sentiments. 

“Which one did you pick?” you asked, desperate to get the conversation back on track. Data looked at you a moment longer before pointing at a painting hung up on the wall across from you. You grinned and shook your head.

“I thought you were the great Sherlock Holmes, Data!” You turned around and moved a desk into the corner behind you before standing on it. Data watched you quizzically as you took down a hanging model of a star made out of small spare parts from a broken replicator or a tricorder that you painted yellow. You stepped down from the desk and held it up to show him.

“I had not considered that your piece might also be objectively amateur,” Data said matter-of-factly. You laughed loudly and put a hand on your chest.

“Wow Data, you really know how to compliment someone! I know I’m not very good at art but it’s about having fun and being proud of what you make in the end.” 

“So you think that I should decorate my quarters with my own artwork?” 

You smiled at him and nodded as he continued to look at the star. 

“Why did you choose to make it out of spare parts and slightly sharp things? Is that not dangerous?” 

You looked at your model as you collected your words. “For starters, it’s very securely attached to the ceiling and no one sits under it. I made it this way to show that as stunning and beneficial as stars are, they’re also very volatile and powerful. Not a force to be reckoned with!”

Data held his hands out and you handed the model to him. You felt a sharp pain in your hand and looked down.

“If art is not your strong suit, perhaps I could teach-”

Data didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence as he looked up in time to see your eyes roll into the back of your head and he quickly caught you before you hit the ground. He set the model down on a desk and picked you up with both hands, gently cradling you against his chest before walking towards sickbay. He assessed you as he walked, looking for injury or signs of a heart attack or a brain aneurysm and finding none. He entered a turbolift as you came to.

“D-Data? What are you doing?!” you yelped, taking in your surroundings. His arms underneath you, pressing you into his hard chest. His eyes scanning your confused face, looking at you full of concern. I must be dreaming.

“You passed out in the classroom. I did not see a probable cause so I elected to carry you to sickbay and have Dr. Crusher examine you.” As he said all this you touched your right hand lightly to your left index finger. It felt wet and you remembered why you fainted.

“Data, we don’t have to go to sickbay,” you said as he strode out of the turbolift and into a busy corridor. You cheeks heated up and you added, “So you can put me down now!” 

Data looked at you again and shook his head. “I am sorry (Y/N) but unless you have an accurate cause, I insist you are seen by a medical professional. It is best not to participate in physical activity until you are cleared for it. I do not mind carrying you to sickbay. You are not heavy.” He continued walking and you sighed, although you secretly loved the attention and care he was putting into making sure you were alright. He would do that for anybody!

“Data if I can tell you why, will you put me down?” 

He stopped walking and looked at you, waiting.

You held up your slightly bloody finger, careful to not look at it. 

Data looked at the prick on your finger then at you as you stared at the ground. He gently set you on the ground and gingerly took your hand in both of his so he could inspect the wound. You thought you might pass out again at his touch and you swallowed hard. 

“This wound seems very superficial for you to have a head injury as a result.” Still holding your hand, he began walking back towards the turbolift. You were too starstruck to protest. He called for a deck number but you weren’t listening as you tried to form a sentence.

“I uh… I don’t like seeing blood. I’ve fainted every time since I was a kid.” You looked at your joined hands again and a small smile appeared on your lips.

Data’s eyes looked as though he was searching for something before saying, “Ah, vasovagal syncope.”

You nodded, slightly in awe of his processing ability. The turbolift doors opened and he led you down a couple of corridors before stopping at some quarters. These aren’t mine…

He pressed the control panel to the side of the doors and they swooshed open revealing a sparsely decorated room. There was a coffee table, a couch, a desk in the far corner with a huge computer and an orange tabby waiting by the replicator, meowing.

“I will feed you momentarily, Spot. First, I must attend to our guest.” Data led you to the couch and let go of your hand. You sat as he walked over to a storage cabinet and retrieved a medkit. He came back to you and used the dermal re-generator to mend the small cut on your finger. You looked at your finger and smiled at him gratefully. He set the medkit on the table and sat close besides you on the couch. 

“Thanks Data. I really appreciate you taking care of me in my hour of need.”

“(Y/N) only twenty minutes have passed since you fainted.”

You laughed and leaned into the back of his couch. “It’s an expression, Data!” His puzzled look turned into one of understanding, but he said nothing as he also leaned into the couch and angled himself to face you fully. You once again took in your close proximity, debating on moving away. And again, you didn’t. 

The two of you chatted for a little while about your work, about the new interpersonal subroutine he and Commander La Forge had created, about his pet, and then finally about art.

“So do you know what you might do with your room decor?” you asked with a smile, your mind still on what sort of things the subroutine had added. Maybe that’s why he wants his room decorated. Or why he took care of me today. You tried to expel that last thought from your mind.

Data was quiet for a moment, seemingly pondering what he was going to say. 

“I believe I already have the perfect piece.” He smiled sweetly at you and you looked around the room. 

“Where is it?” you asked, confused.

He leaned in so close that his mouth was nearly touching your ear before whispering flirtatiously, “Guess.”

[setterspirit]

play date with raden

tw; some more serious topics; mentions of drinking, teen pregnancy, etc.

❥ ‑‑‑‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑

“unless raden and you want to go to the park, that was the plan, yes,” you reply, nodding slowly and eyeing your son who seemed unfazed by your look of... disgust.

“unless raden and you want to go to the park, that was the plan, yes,” you reply, nodding slowly and eyeing your son who seemed unfazed by your look of... disgust.

“unless raden and you want to go to the park, that was the plan, yes,” you reply, nodding slowly and eyeing your son who seemed unfazed by your look of... disgust.

“unless raden and you want to go to the park, that was the plan, yes,” you reply, nodding slowly and eyeing your son who seemed unfazed by your look of... disgust.

“unless raden and you want to go to the park, that was the plan, yes,” you reply, nodding slowly and eyeing your son who seemed unfazed by your look of... disgust.

“then i can wear these!” eito declared, punching his fist in the air in triumph, heading over to his legos.

“no, absolutely not,” you insist, shaking your head vigorously and shooing your son back into his room, this time following him to pick out the outfit he would wear today.

“but mama, i want to wear these,” the five year old pouts, a frown on his face as he looks anywhere but at you.

“and i’m saying you cannot,” you reply firmly, placing the clothes you’d picked out on his bed. “i’m amending the rule i made concerning those-” you gesture to the pants he’s wearing, unsure what to even call them. “monstrosities,” you settle on. “you can wear those only around the house if it’s just the two of us.”

“what if uncle kei, uncle kenji, uncle kanji, uncle taka, uncle ken, or auntie mai are here?” the young boy questions, knowing he doesn’t have to look so nice with them.

at “uncle ken” you freeze, eyeing your son curiously. kentarō had only recently allowed for eito to call him uncle, and you still weren’t used to it. he had been so uncaring in the past, often shaking you off or ignoring you whenever you would invite him to join you and the rest of the group in an outing or dinner with eito. but recently, he’d been more willing to go, and at first it had thrown you off, but you eventually got used to it, often enjoying his company when he would join your group.

“yeah, those are the only exemptions,” you finally answered with a tight lipped smile. “now please be a good boy and change before raden gets here,” you finished, turning around and walking out of eito’s room, closing your eyes in exasperation once you’d reached the livingroom. god, sometimes being a mother was difficult, but you honestly wouldn’t change it for anything.

before you can get too lost in your thoughts, a knock at the door sounded, signaling that raden and his parents had arrived. eito, having changed into the clothes you’d picked out for him, raced to the door, excitedly pulling the door open to reveal the smiling face of his best friend and his slightly tired looking mother.

smiling at the woman as she watched her son race away to start playing with the legos eito had abandoned earlier, you offered to let her in, smiling and leading her to the dining room when she accepted your offer.

you were so thankful to the nishimura family, who’d been skeptical about leaving their child alone with you at first, but had soon warmed up to you when they realized just how much you loved and cared for eito. you didn’t blame them for having their skepticisms, it was only natural the family get to know you better before they leave their child in your care. you were, after all, only 20 when you’d first met them. leaving two toddlers with a 20 year old single mother was nerve wracking to any parent, young or old. so they hung out with you, invited you over to have dinner with them, observed how you interacted with their son and your own. for a 20 year old, you were quite mature, probably due to the fact you were raising eito alone.

“so, how have you been, l/n-san?” she questioned, fully turning her attention towards you.

“i’ve been good! i recently reconnected with an old friend, so that’s been keeping me in a happy mood,” you replied with a bright smile. the woman across from you observed your shift in features, from your usual soft smile to a bright, genuinely beaming smile.

“really? who is this ‘old friend?’” the woman questioned, interested to know what kind of person could make your mood shift so much.

“suna rintarō,” you replied excitedly, watching as nishimura’s eyes widened upon the realization of who you were talking about.

“hold on, suna rintarō, as in ejp raijin’s middle blocker suna rintarō?” she questioned in disbelief, with you nodding your head excitedly in response.

“yeah, we used to live next to each other and we went to the same elementary school before i left japan,” you responded, nishimura’s full attention now on you. “i don’t know how he found me, but he did, and we’ve been catching up since that big msby vs adlers game.”

“how do you mean, big?” the woman questioned, eyebrow raised questioningly.

“oh, you didn’t know? that game was like a huge one for old rivals,” you replied. she knew you knew a few famous volleyball players, she did follow your twitter, after all, but she didn’t know that you pretty much knew all the big names in the volleyball world now. “kageyama, ushijima, and hoshiumi used to be rivals, not just with each other, but also with four of the starters on the jackals team, too. sakusa, bokuto, miya atsumu, and hinata. that game was hinata’s welcome back to japan, in a way, and he was playing against his high school setter, kageyama tobio.”

nishimura nodded, intrigued. “and you know them all because?” she wasn’t trying to say you were lying, she would never call you a liar, she was simply curious to know how you knew all of this.

“i was a manager for date tech,” you replied with a small laugh. “and my cousin plays on the sendai team, the frogs, and he played on the same high school team as kageyama and hinata.” let’s just chalk it up to the fact you had a lot of connections to professional volleyball players.

you continued to talk a bit, pausing to watch your sons before nishimura received a text from her husband, asking where she was. it was nearing noon when she finally had to leave, so you bid her goodbye before preparing lunch for yourself, eito, and raden — mac & cheese because what 5 year old didn’t love mac & cheese?

the rest of the day passed rather uneventfully, eito and raden continuing to play with the legos tsukishima had bought eito, with you going around the house tidying things up or cleaning little messes you found they’d made. often times, you’d find yourself texting suna, too, catching up with him during his breaks between practices.

by the time dinner came around, raden had been picked up and taken home, the boys promising they’d see each other again at school. once he’d gone, you had eito clean up his toys that he and raden had missed, helping your son out so you guys could hurry over to mai’s for a dinner and game night with the boys.

TALK ABOUT SURPRISES

[ masterlist | eight | nine | ten ]

word count; 1.5k+

fast facts;

fact #1; there’s a HUGE difference between the way y/n acted in elementary school vs how she acted in high school. she was always the more timid between her and suna, so hearing her say she would willingly go to parties threw suna for a loop.

fact #2; futakuchi was a semi-bad influence in high school, but he mellowed out more in third year because of his newfound title as the vbc captain. that didn’t stop y/n from partying, though, as she sometimes needed to blow off steam and parties were the easiest way.

fact #3; y/n has only had one relationship, the one person being eito’s sperm donor. he walked out on the relationship when y/n told him she was pregnant, so now she’s worried about getting back into a relationship, especially because now she also has to think about eito’s feelings.

fact #4; the nishimura’s have been a huge help to y/n as she raised eito. they’ve given her helpful tips and watched after eito when she needed a babysitter and aiko was busy.

✨) summary; l/n y/n is a single mother living with her 5 year old son in sendai. suna rintarō is a professional volleyball player, the middle blocker for the ejp raijin. the msby black jackals vs the schweiden adlers is a game between two of japan’s v league division 1 teams that bring together many old rivals. y/n is dragged to the game by her cousin, tsukishima kei, claiming she needed to get out and do more than just work and take care of her child. reluctantly, she goes along with the usually salty blond — leaving her 5 year old with a babysitter — to watch the game between two of tsukishima’s ex-teammates. suna makes the executive decision that he will be going to the game to support his former teammate and setter, miya atsumu, with komori asking if he could accompany the middle blocker so he could support his cousin, suna readily agrees and they also invite washio to go with them, knowing he’d want to see bokuto as well. a chance encounter at the game of old reunions brings together two old friends and feelings start to re-emerge. follow y/n and suna as they get to know each other again, fend off any unwanted attention, and work through parenthood in “talk about surprises!”

a/n; some suna x y/n content in the beginning, mama y/n and eito content at the end. i’m really sorry if you want more suna content! i just wanted to show y/n and how she is as a mother. next few chapters should be a rollercoaster, you’ll see. 👀 see ya in the next update, loves! 🤍✨

updates every monday!

taglist; @pieckiya @its-the-aerieljeane @amatee @crayonwriting @reblogthatgoodfanfiction @mint-mai @akaashiwife @kac-chowsballs @sugarb0 @bdanie @the-golden-jhope @goodpop9 @navymacaroons @tendo-sxtori @sirachano0dles @seijqhigh @hannahlxu @mattsunsupremacy @winunk @briidge @kageyamasgirl @yongboxerrr @kiyoovmie @elianetsantana @ofmiceandsharks @bokutokita @honeydrip @tycrackculture @madmelle @kitkozume @gushinim @luckypartyranchmug @kenssister @matsukawaslut @smthn-about-smthn @devilkittymusic @tsukkisfatsimp @k3nma-fairy

bold and strike through means i couldnt tag. ):

check the masterlist to see how you may be added to the taglist. <3

[professorlilac]

Where was I? Oh, yes: a new form of Braviary—I suppose a MUCH older form?—had carried me down to Jubilife Village.

Having spent time in Sinnoh over the years, seeing it this way, not the modern region I was used to, took me aback. Gone were the amenities we had as trainers when I traveled. Instead, it seemed wild, untamed.

At least the settlers here seemed to live peacefully with Pokémon. At least more peacefully than recently—Commander Kamado told me some of what went on there before I arrived. I’m glad that there were changes.

I was brought to the Galaxy Team building, an interesting old structure. The large, iron Galarian Weezing on the roof was a fantastic site! Kamado told me that Professor Laventon was from Galar. I’m glad to see one of his native species represented.

Laventon himself was quite an interesting man. He keenly showed me his completed Pokédex. I shouldn’t have been, but I was quite surprised to see it was a paper book with filled in pages.

He allowed me to thumb through it, as he asked me about my work. I explained to him that what I did was much like his own work: I spent time in the fields, mountains, riversides or whatever have you, and just studied the Pokémon.

He was incredibly excited to learn from another professor who’s work was not unlike his own. He proudly decided the two of us should travel to the different areas of this Sinnoh—called Hisui—so I could see the native Pokémon!

He even offered me one of his starters, since he’d just basically re-caught them. I happily took a Cyndaquil, despite having actually trained one. I named him Keres, and we ventured out into the closed area: the Obsidian Fieldlands!

There I got to study Pokémon that were a bit harder to spot in the wilds of my time: Stantler being one of them. Since they usually migrate in Johto at certain points in the year, I was thrilled to see herds of them.

Keres and I even battled (and caught) one. Professor Laventon told me that the Stantler of this region could evolve, which is something that didn’t happen in any region I’d been to before!

I’ll write a bit more about my adventures in the past version of Sinnoh. I still don’t believe it’s real, and wouldn’t believe if it I didn’t have these strange, green Pokéballs!

[bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture]

The second and third obstacles! And Mei’s first big showing, because of course. 

[No. 25 - In Their Own Quirky Ways]

Ochako, Tsuyu, and Mina are all standing still, staring at the next obstacle as Present Mic announces it. He calls the first barrier ‘a piece of cake,’ the notes that for the second, you fall and you’re out, so you have to crawl across if you want to make it. The obstacle, oh, nothing big, just the fucking Grand Canyon with the bottom encased in the goddamn void:

Despite all reasonable reservations about crossing, Tsuyu takes the leap (metaphorically) and starts creeping along one of the ropes, calling it a giant tightrope. She giggles to herself, saying this is her chance to make a splash. (God, a girl after my heart, I love her sense of humor between this and the USJ.)

Next we are introduced to our resident spark - I mean support course student, Hatsume Mei (abet we don’t get her name yet here, but she’s emphasized enough that it’s obvious she’s gonna be important soon.) He’s cackling a bit maniacally, talking about how it’s time for her support items to get the spotlight, calling out to the national support companies to look at her wire arrow and hover soles - the items she just so happens to be wearing, along with a few other gadgets.

Ochako realizes Mei is in the support course, while Mina is shocked that she’s allowed to have her gear. Mei points out to them that the hero course students get practical battle training, right? So in the interest of fairness, as long as they developed the gear themselves, using equipment’s just fine! In fact, for the support course students, it’s the greatest opportunity to show off their inventiveness and craftmanship to the industry! 

Mei cackles some more as she shoots off her hookshot - I mean wire arrow, the end impacting and catching on one of the pillars with a klang. Mei leaps off of the side of the canyon, again calling out to all the corporations to check out her ‘adorable babies’ while clicking on a button on her devise that starts reeling her in, as well as activates the hover function of her boots. Ochako and Mina are fired up, Ochako rushing to chase after while Mina continues to complain about it being unfair. 

Shinsou, meanwhile, is being a little bit creepy, just watching on with a slight leer as he just says ‘cool.’ Wonder what he’s doing here… hmm…

Up in the announcers’ booth, Mic states how they have all types trying to make it big in the sports festival. Aizawa, meanwhile, is just annoyed ay why ‘those idiots’ (re: the students probably) stopped moving. We then shift over to Shouto just reaching the other end of the canyon, with Mic announcing as such to the crowds.

Of course, it’s not so easy as that. Even as SHouto starts building up more ice to start pushing ahead, Katsuki is blasting in from above. Katsuki calls out, refusing to stay behind any longer, while Shouto just thinks that with how fired up Katsuki is now, he must be a slow starter. Which, man, I don’t even know if that’s just an observation about the quirk or if that was intended as a savage shot, but either way, I’m cackling.

We see Tenya somewhere behind Katsuki, watching the explosions as he pushes on. He says it’s very likely his brother is also watching, so he musn’t show an unsightly performance… 

he says as he does a T-pose to skid across the ropes with his quirk. Mic calls it unsightly, which like, dude, rude. Also, how did he know what Tenya even said there? I guess it’s just a little thing for the sake of humor, like the ‘drawn differently’ jokes for All Might. 

The crowds watching on are impressed with the performance of Shouto, talkin about how he just can’t be stopped. How quirk is awesome, but it’s not just that - he’s also incredibly athletic and perceptive. Someone else agrees, then points out how he’s the son of the flame hero, Endeavor. The first person(?) says that makes sense, the kid’s got the blood of the number two hero out there, after All Might. The pros are gonna be scrambling to get him as their sidekick.

Can I just say this is a very interesting panel here. Like there’s no reason we immediately know about to have it divided in two like this, but any amount of retrospect with what we learn later this arc makes it obvious: this is representing the internal divide Shouto places on his two sides, separating his fire from his ice. I also like how the mention of Endeavor here also happens to be on the fire side, further drawing attention to it and, subsequently, the scar there.

The scar that, incidentally, can be considered Endeavor’s fault.

I’m sure there’s a whole lot more Shouto and Todoroki family meta that can be shoved in here when analysing this panel, but we have things to do, events to see, arcs to get through! 

Present Mic announces how the leads keep breaking ahead, while the rest of the pack is bunched up. Since the racers don’t know how many will get to move on, all they can do is aim for first place! And the leader has just reached the final barrier - that is to say… the minefield.

...wait a second, ‘a deadly Afghan carpet’? Uhm, is that a translation thing, or… what a strange reference to make here. While it’s hard to make out the locations of mines from this page (at least to me), Present Mic confirms in his announcements that a quick glance should be enough to reveal it to the students, so they need to keep both eyes open and watch their steps. By the way, the mines don’t pack a deadly punch, but they’re loud and flashy enough that the kids might need a change of underwear when it’s over. Aizawa adds on that it depends on the individual, of course.

Meanwhile, back on the ropes, we see Izuku crawling along almost like a chameleon, the armor plating strapped to his back with some of the loose wire. In the background we see Shouji gliding from one of the pillars with his arms out wide, and another student  Naruto running across the wire like a champ.

You go, Naruto runner guy. 

Back with the landmines, we see Shouto realize that the positioning of the landmines puts whoever is in the lead at a disadvantage, since none of the mines have gone off yet, ergo meaning the highest chance of setting one off and losing time to the distraction. It’s all a big show, which I mean, you’re only just realizing this? Meanwhile, in the background, we see another student get blown into the air from one of the mines, and yet another (I think Ojiro???) struggling to follow. 

Katsuki, of course, decides to show up then, finally blowing past Shouto while stating how ‘this crap’ can’t slow him down. Which I mean, makes sense when his whole thing is explosions, these landmines really can’t be all that impressive to him. Katsuki declares that Shouto’s declaration of war was to the wrong person.

Present Mic gleefully announces the new leader, telling the mass media to get excited, since they love this kind of turn-around. (Definitely not a subtle dig at them, no sir.) He then announces how the rest are catching up while Katsuki seems determined to fight Shouto right where they are - Tenya has blasted himself forward with one of the mines, looking very silly, while Ibara is using her vines to test the ground around her (I think?) to allow safe passage. 

Gotta go fast (do do do do do do do…)

While Present Mic wonders if the two grappling for first can hold onto their lead, we see Izuku standing at the start of the field, watching the other students rush ahead. Tokoyami is again launching himself into the air with his quirk, Kirishima is just carefully picking his way through, and I can’t tell enough about the other students to see if they’re 1a or not, so… 

Izuku worries about how wide the field is, while we get to see just how many people are ahead of him on the field. However, Izuku seems to have a plan, looking around him. As the others rush onwards, and as Shouto and Katsuki fight with each other, we see Izuku hard at work doing something he says is taking a page from Kacchan’s book. He thinks about how he can still catch up as he throws himself forward onto a bunch of unearthed landmines, the plate under him and between him and the inevitable explosion. 

Nice. 

Izuku is sent flying over everyone’s heads from the force of it, much to everyone’s shock. Shouto and Katsuki both look back to see what caused it, while Mic wonders what could have caused such a blast, and whether it was accidental or intentional. As Toshinori throws his arms up in the air (panic or excitement?), we get one last look at Izuku, wearing a very determined expression as Present Mic announces his riding the wave in hot pursuit.

And with that, chapter 25 is done! What a point to leave off at. Next time, we finish the race, get to see placements, and (I think) we get the announcement for the second event. See y’all then!

[spruceplank]

I told you I was brave but I lied

AN: based on this post by @blocklasagna

Or the AU from the time after Wilbur’s death and before Tubbo’s peaceful driven presidency can really begin because rebuilding has just started: The universe takes Tommy from Dreamsmp and asks the admin of Hermitcraft to help him heal. Cue Tommy now in Hermitcraft re-learning how to live again and not just survive because he deserves a chance to be a kid again.

ao3 || 4k words || First | Current | Next 

It's warm. He can feel cool air on his skin but for some reason he feels the warmth more. He feels safe. Safe in a way he doesn’t remember feeling for a long time now.  He can hear the whistle of wind and the occasional sound of flapping wings. There’s a steady heartbeat he can hear clearly nearby. This is the best dream he’s had in a long time. He doesn’t want to ever wake up.

When he wakes up he’s in a place he doesn’t recognize. It's bright but only in the way the sun catches on the yellow and white block pallet around him. Where is he? It's warm here, warm and bright. His hands catch on the grey blanket around him as he slowly sits up, hesitantly eying the area around him. The sound of footsteps catches down the hallway and he freezes in place. No, no, no, please not again. His hands curl into the fabric of the blanket and his panic is all but halted when he realizes there’s something on his wrist.

There on his left wrist is one of Phil’s wristbands. The red heart seems to help keep his own steady even though it's merely a picture. At least he thinks its only a picture, Phil had magic he didn’t usually understand on a good day. He slips a finger under the band and spins it around his wrist, making sure it's actually there and not some sort of hallucination. He catches the feeling of a piece of paper on the inside part of the wrist band. Slowly he turns his arm over and pulls out a small, folded up piece of paper from the space between his wrist and the band. Ignoring the way his fingers tremble slightly, he begins to unfold the paper to reveal a message.

Tommy,

I’m sorry to do this without asking you first but I feared that if I did not get you out of this smp asap I would lose another one of my bois to whatever has infected this server. I cannot say for certain where you will be once you wake up, but you will be safe wherever you are. I wish I could say all I want to let you know but time grows short and there is much to do. I will get your brothers back to normal I swear it. When it's safe again I will come for you. By wearing my wristband I will know you are safe and you are alive, just as you will be able to tell the same of me. I love you Tommy, and I hope wherever the universe has decided to send you will give you a chance to remember and experience the world as it should be, unaffected by whatever has dream’s smp. A world full of all the things you think are merely dreams. I love you Tommy, please never doubt that, and I'll come bring you home soon. 

Ph1lza

His heartbeat is echoing in his ears. Phil, Phil abandoned him. Something was wrong on the dream smp, no one actually hated him. Phil loved him. His brothers were in danger. His friends were in danger. Wilbur was dead and Techno had killed him. Phil left him to keep him safe. Phil loved him. He was all alone now.

Someone clears their throat way too close to him. Immediately he crumples up the paper and swallows it whole. Ow, his throat is scratchy already before eating paper so that doesn’t help it in the slightest. 

“Oh my goodness me, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” An unfamiliar voice apologizes. He turns his head to look at a tall person in some sort of bed outfit? Yeah no, that's a bee outfit alright. It's a weird one, like it's painted armor of done sort but the colors don't lie. Especially not with an actual bee hovering next to the person. He narrows his eyes to try and make out the details of this person who isn't even that far away from him. Why is his vision blurry? 

He blinks rapidly, trying to get his eyes to focus but it doesn't seem to be working. He's so confused. Where is he? Why is he here? Who is the bee person? Someone is talking to him or maybe he's just hearing voices again. The entire world blurs together and his head throbs. Everything goes dark. 

Waking up again is painful. His head hurts, his throat hurts, and he feels so weak. Is he sick? He doesn't remember the last time he was sick. 

"Are you back with me now?" There’s that unfamiliar voice again. It's soft and warm like one of Wilbur’s sweaters he used to wear when he was small and they were much too big for him. He manages to open his eyes enough to make out the weird bee themed man at his bedside. Two bees over the man’s shoulders can be seen flying away out of the room when he starts to move.

"...hhhh?" Is all he manages to get out in some sort of whine. His mind nor voice wanted to cooperate with him. He felt like absolute shit.

"I'm assuming you have questions for me, yes?" The bee man asks and he nods slowly. He very much so would like some answers to whatever the fuck was going on. The bee man's expressions are hard to read through the dude's helmet with only the visor really giving him a glimpse of what bee man's expressions are. He thinks that the bee man is worried about him though because the bee man keeps talking, "Well I'll be happy to answer them if in exchange you could eat some of this food and at least drink some of a regen potion."

The bee man brings a pink potion and some bread into his field of view. The bee man looks at him expectantly and he is hungry and he feels like shit but he can't. Bee man has only been nice to him but he doesn't trust anyone. Not after Wil blew up L'manburg. Not after Techno killed him and his friends. He manages to get his voice to work enough to rasp out a response, "...No…" 

"No? Do you not feel like eating? You surely have not been eating enough with how light you are, never mind how pale your skin looks." The bee man looks worried and he feels bad for making the bee man worry. The bee man keeps talking, "Well I would rather you don't pass out on me again, gave me quite a scare there earlier. Is there something wrong with the food? Do you not like bread?" 

He loves bread. Bread reminds him of L'manburg in the very beginning. Of Niki's bakery and laughter. Of better and more peaceful times. He's dragged out of his thoughts when the bee man keeps talking. 

"I promise you it's rather good, I just baked it fresh myself earlier. It wouldn't hurt to at least give eating a try would it? I promise you it's edible, I'm not that horrible in the kitchen." Bee man looks at him and he feels like the bee man can read his mind because the bee man asks, "Would it make you feel better to see me eat some of it first?" 

He nods as much as he can without making himself dizzy. Which isn't very much sadly. Bee man doesn't take it personally though because bee man chuckles and he finds he doesn't mind at all because he knows the bee man isn't laughing at him. 

"All right then give me a moment," The bee man says and he's confused for a moment before the bee man lifts his hands to the sides of his helmet, flicks some latches, and pulls it off. There's a soft hissing noise as the bee man removes the helmet and sets it to the side. He watches the bee man pick up a piece of bread and rip a chunk of it off to eat. Purple eyes seem to glow slightly just like the purple freckles on the bee man's face that he hadn't seen before because of the helmet. The bee man eats and remains completely fine after the fact. He feels better about this now and the bee man offers him some bread while saying, "See, perfectly fine. I'd be happy to brew a new potion right here in front of you if you're worried about it as well."

"...Thanks.." He says as he slowly starts to eat the bread. He's starving but he knows eating too much too fast will only hurt in the long run so he forces himself to eat slower. There's simply silence that is strangely not uncomfortable while he eats the first loaf of bread. He thinks the bee man leaves the room for a moment, because when he looks back up after eating the bee man has out a brewing stand and potion materials. The materials for a regen potion. With the man is another few bees that the man waves away out of the room.

It's when he's handed the second loaf which he takes with another quiet thanks that the bee man breaks the silence, "You're quite welcome. Ah goodness me where are my manners, I did say I'd answer your questions. Well for starters my name is Xisuma and I'm the admin of the world we currently both are in which is called Hermitcraft."

The bee man, Xisuma, is the admin of this world. Hermitcraft is not a place he's ever heard of before. He only has more questions now, "How…?" 

"How did you get here?" Xisuma finishes, looking to him before continuing at his nod in response to the admin's question. "Well to be honest I only know so much about that myself. About two days ago I found you in the middle of nowhere in the deep End. You definitely could not have gotten there on your own nor could you have survived there on your own. I was tasked by the End itself to help you and keep you safe until your father could come for you. That is all I know."

That answer only makes him more confused, "The End?" 

Xisuma stops paying attention to making the potion and turns to him, the admin's helmet still being off allows him to see the expression of hesitation on the man's face before he asks, "What do you know about the End?" 

What does he know about the End? He has to think and recall all the vague memories he has of it as he lists them off slowly, "... Other realm… endless void… endermen… Dragon legend… Dad likes it there…" 

"Does your father have magic?" Xisuma's sudden question nearly makes him jump but he manages to only flinch instead. The admin doesn't comment on his reaction even though Xisuma has been watching him while he was listing things off.

Does Phil have magic? He has to actually think about the things Phil has or does that he's just accepted are a part of Phil that are probably not normal. There are only a few things he can think of off the top of his head for sure, "Wings… World walking… This is his…"

He holds up his left wrist to Xisuma so the admin can see the wristband he's wearing more clearly. Xisuma looks at the band for a moment before coming closer to inspect it. 

"May I?" Xisuma asks. He nods and goes to remove it but Xisuma holds up a hand to stop him, "You don't have to remove it, don't worry, I just want to get a closer look."

Xisuma gently takes his wrist and stares directly at the wristband. It's kind of weirdchamp but he doesn't find it all that awkward actually. After a few moments Xisuma hums in understanding, "Hardcore? So your dad's an ascended player then. An old one too at the likes of it. That explains it."

"Wha…?" He questions, not really processing what he's being told. How did Xisuma know Phil was a hardcore player? What was an ascended player? He knows Phil was old but he wasn't that old was he? 

"What do I mean?" Xisuma asks, once more chuckling at his rapid nod in response. He doesn't think Xisuma is making fun of him though and he likes the admin solely for that alone. Xisuma hums for a moment before beginning to explain, "Well not only did I find you, a human, out in the deep End where the air should be too thin for you to breathe normally. You were completely unharmed and not even seemingly aware of the coldness in the thin air of the void. The End, my home, went out of its way to call me back there and lead me to you. Something that no doubt cost quite a lot both from the universe and your father. The fact that you were not only there but alive and guarded by the void itself, means your father is loved quite a lot by the End. And because he loves you so dearly that means the End adores you just the same."

That's a lot to process at once. He finds himself blankly trying to make sense of all that information until he feels a warm potion bottle being pressed into his hands. He takes it without thinking and drinks some of it before stopping. Bleh, he forgot how bad these tasted. Thankfully it kicks in rather quickly and he manages to get enough of his brain back in working order to ask a full question this time, "... Then why, why am I here?" 

Xisuma looks at him expectantly and he drinks more of the potion without even thinking about it. Xisuma smiles with an approving nod and he ignores how he feels about that. He does not have the time he needs to unpack all of that right now because Xisuma starts talking again, "I don't want to make guesses or speculate on a situation I don't know anything of, but while I said you are unharmed I only meant physically and even then really only unharmed currently. You have a number of scars that some of the players in this world don't have despite a history of fighting. I was told to watch over you until your dad could come for you and while I can only make guesses as to what that entails I'm fairly certain your father wanted to make sure you were safe in his absence. As for what your dad would currently be doing, well I'd wager a guess it has something to do with all this corruption clinging to your code like pollen to a bee. Goodness me I haven't even really tried to deal with it because I know people are sensitive to having others digging through their code but this is ridiculous."

Phil wanted him to be safe. He doesn't know why but he believes it more when Xisuma says it than when he read it in Phil's letter. Phil wanted him safe while he was fixing something with the smp. But what was wrong with it? Corruption? Code? He has no fucking clue what Xisuma is talking about, "My code?" 

Xisuma nods at his question, "Yes your code. It's what makes you, well you. It's the thing that allows you to come and go between worlds at ease. To respawn upon dying and travel between overworld, nether, and end."

"I don't see anything." He says looking down at himself curiously. This is the first time he's ever heard of this code shit. 

"Would you like to?" Xisuma asks and it's not even a making fun of him question, but a genuine offer. He feels excited about learning something new and can't help the smile that breaks out on his face when he nods. Xisuma shakes his head amused but gestures to the half drunken potion in Tommy's hands, "Drink the rest of that potion and I'll show you."

"Bleh." He complains after finishing the potion. A small price to pay for cool new knowledge. Xisuma laughs at his response when the admin takes the empty bottle from him and he feels embarrassed about it. 

"You're right, they're not very good but trust me they used to be worse. Give me a moment to readjust the settings here for you." Xisuma explains, picking up his  discarded helmet from earlier before he fiddles with it. At least he wasn't making fun of Tommy's response or telling him he was just being a big baby. He decides to ignore those thoughts and thankfully is given the opportunity to when Xisuma says, "Alright, go ahead and put this on then."

He takes the helmet which isn't as heavy as he thought it would be. It's certainly not as heavy as netherite or even diamond. He swallows his sudden anxiety and sticks in on before he can overthink it. He looks around the room confused, "Nothing looks different?"

"Give me a moment here… " Xisuma says, trailing off as a screen pops up at the admin's finger tips. It just looks like a translucent blue screen which glows white wherever Xisuma taps it. It looks like the admin is typing but he can't see anything on the screen so it just seems random. Xisuma stops tapping at the screen finally to ask,"How about now?" 

He's confused because nothing changes at first. Then like a furnace roaring to life suddenly there's a flash of purple across the visor as everything suddenly gains a slight glow around it. It's pretty pog to see, "Woah"

"Okay so look at my arm here, what do you see?" Xisuma asks, holding an arm out between them. 

"An arm? Wait it's got all these little numbers popping up around it…" He watches amazed by the numbers. They radiate off the admins arm, briefly glowing white before vanishing from view. 

Xisuma nods,"Now look at your own arm, what do you see?" 

"It's also an arm. Wait the numbers, why are they all glitchy like that? What's this weird glow?" He likes this. He thinks it super cool right up until he looks at his own arm and it does not pass the vibe check. The numbers coming off his arm are like vibrating in the air. Appearing like static in a mess of colors before vanishing much sooner than the ones around Xisuma did. 

His attention is pulled away from it when Xisuma talks again and he turns to look at the admin who watches him with a look he can't decipher, "That, my friend, is the corruption."

"Oh… wait, the wristband…" He nods mutely and goes to pull off the helmet when the wristband catches his eye. It's surrounded in a soft, solid green glow with no glitchy numbers but rather opaque blue boxes. Like the screen Xisuma was tapping earlier but this one has white text on it. He looks at it and starts to read, "Health bar, monitors player's health and displays it. Currently tracking,... Dad."

"If you look at the details of how it works, you'd find it's a set. One wristband out of two. The other, is connected to you." Xisuma explains, tapping on the floating description next to the wristband. Indeed there is a whole description he doesn’t bother to read but he does notice the 1/2 in the corner of the tiny screen. 

That’s why he has one of Phil’s wristbands? So Phil can make sure he’s still alive? He hesitates for a moment but asks despite feeling stupid for asking, "So if I died he would know?" 

Xisuma hums, considering it before answering, "Not quite? Because your dad's a hardcore player it's set directly to his code. Hardcore players take damage directly to their code, or well a subsection of their code. Your dad has it wired so if either your own code or his code starts to become so corrupted then it will be displayed on the corresponding wristband. It's a genius design in these bands if the other makes the matching set I'm assuming it does."

He has no idea what they’re currently talking about. He has so many questions, "But he doesn't stay in his hardcore world?" 

"Even so, his base code is written for a hardcore player. It'd be the same as a hybrid player, where their base code contains their hybridness? That didn't work quite the way I wanted it to." Xisuma explains. When the admin looks at his face though it’s very clear that he has no idea what Xisuma is trying to tell him. He thinks about hybrid players, people who aren’t human, usually part mob or something and then thinks about the bee theme.

"Are you a hybrid player?" He asks before thinking about it. 

"That's quite the personal question." Xisuma answers looking surprised. 

"Shit my bad, … I wasn't aware it was personal. I just can't tell if the bee thing is an outfit or not." He explains hoping Xisuma won’t be too mad.

Xisuma looks even more surprised by him swearing, "Does your father know about your language?" 

"You sound like Bad does! Yes he knows and he doesn't care!" He groans, waving off the concern. He wasn’t twelve, what was wrong with swearing?

"Alright, alright just asking." Xisuma assures him before saying, "As for the bee theme, it is just an outfit."

"It is? But the bees seem to like you more than they even like… A friend…" He trails off looking down as his thoughts drift to the people he’s left behind back on the smp. Even if it had felt like a rift had been forming between him and Tubbo, they were still best friends. 

Xisuma doesn’t comment on his weird sentence thankfully, "Hmm well I can't give away all my secrets to someone whom I don't even know the name of." 

"Tommy."

"What was that?"

He looks up and repeats himself, "My name is Tommy."

"Well then Tommy, allow me to formally welcome you to Hermitcraft. I'll show you around and such tomorrow when I'm sure you won't faint on me, though for now I will be needing my helmet back." Xisuma says, gesturing to the helmet still on his head.

He pulls the helmet off and hands it over, "Oh shit, sorry." 

"No need to apologize, I did let you use it after all." Xisuma tells him, taking the helmet back and fiddling with it for a moment before putting it back on. It was strange to see the admin with the helmet on again but he guessed this was the usual norm. Xisuma stands up and checks something on his communicator. Idly he wondered where his own communicator had wound up before his train of thought is derailed by Xisuma offering, "Well if you feel up to it I could show you around my base here for today so you're not bored in bed all day."

That sounded so much better than being bored in bed all day. 

Xisuma's base was incredible. Not only did he base stretch through multiple tower buildings full of so many different redstone contraptions he had never seen, but he was the only one who even lived here! It was entirely his base and his base alone! And it was full of bees! They were so cuddly and soft! He didn't know bees could hang around people so much! Even Tubbo's bees got bored of them eventually and went back to doing bee things. And Tubbo's bees loved Tubbo! 

Not only that but the amount of resources the admin had! It was ridiculous! Phil was the only person he knew with this many resources. Well Phil and Techno but he didn't want to think about Techno so only Phil. 

At some point Xisuma went to go check something or whatever, he had stopped paying attention to the admin when a couple bees flew over and started buzzing around him. Eventually he sat down in this grassy area with the same bees who all piled around him. A fuzzy bee pile. It was nice. He really was curious as to why these bees were so friendly. But for now he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Its warm, soft, and safe. He doesn’t even realize it when he falls asleep. 

[onlydreamofmysoul]

Let Them Eat Cake part iii (Wolfstar Bake off au)

Chapter three!!!

This episode on The Great British Bake Off, it’s pastry week.

I’m not going to jinx it.

Oh my god, I am so sorry!

As usual… this is as good as it’s going to get.

“Have you been practicing?” Lily teased, bumping her hip against Remus’.

“Lily, we literally practice together. You’ve been eating my pastries all week.”

Lily pouted. “I mean, I know you’re right but also I’m literally with you all the time and I’m running out of conversation starters.”

Remus felt a laugh overtake him as he slung his arm over her shoulders. “Okay that’s fair, I’ll give you that much.”

“Especially since you declared some topics off-limit.” Lily grumbled. Remus sighed as he looked up at the clear blue sky. It was one of those cold crisp mornings where the grass is glittering with frost but not a single cloud decorated the sky. 

“Fine, I remove my ban.”

Lily actually squealed as they entered the tent, drawing more than one look from the other contestants. 

“Oh my god, keep it down or I’ll revoke it.”

Lily’s eyes widened as she comically mimed zipping her lips shut. Remus swung himself up on her worktop, and she swatted his knee but he didn’t move.

“So,” She prompted, her voice low. “You and Sirius?”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Lils, I already told you, there is no ‘me and Sirius’.”

Lily shook her head. “That’s not true!” 

Remus made a betrayed noise at the volume of her voice and she immediately hushed herself. 

“Sorry!” She whispered. “But Re, I’m right. I mean, there wasn’t a you and Sirius at first but now… there’s definitely potential.”

“What’s there potential for?”

Remus’s heart shot right out of his chest and his stomach plummeted as Sirius hopped right up onto the counter next to him. Lily had visibly paled as the pair of them searched for an excuse.

“For… for the technical challenge to be easier this week.” Remus said, praying it would seem like a normal topic of conversation. Fortunately for him, being in a baking competition did tend to allow for the contestants to talk about it… a lot.

Sirius just nodded, seeming to go with the conversation and Lily and Remus shared a look of intense relief. On the outside, Remus was pleasantly chatting to Sirius. On the inside, he was plotting Lily Evans’ death.

“So, are we excited for pastry week?” Sirius asked. 

“I mean, no but I was never gonna be so…” Remus shrugged trailing off. 

“Ignore him, his practice rounds have been so good.” Lily endorsed. “As the person who gets to eat all of them, I’ve been very satisfied.”

“I’ll have to try them then.” Sirius was saying but Remus was watching the judges entering the tent. He hopped off the counter and moved to his own bench, with Sirius’ voice still jabbering in the background.

“Dude, I’m gonna be like ten pounds heavier leaving this show. Like wow, everything tastes so good I just want to eat it all.”

Lily’s laugh was interrupted by someone in the crew calling Sirius.

“Duty calls.” He said, saluting Remus and Lily before dashing off to the front of the tent, holding the attention of everyone in the room in the way that only someone with Sirius’ charisma could manage. James came close, but no one was quite on Sirius’ level. Which was good. Remus could barely handle one Sirius Black, never mind if there were two.

“Okay and we’re rolling in three, two, one.” Marlene called, signalling that the camera had begun.

“Welcome back bakers! It’s the week we’ve all been waiting for!”

“No James, it’s the week you’ve been waiting for.”

“That’s basically the same thing. It’s pastry week!”

“Today our lovely judges have asked you to prepare a tart or pie made with puff pastry.” Sirius said, gesturing to McGonagall and Dumbledore.

“The fillings are, as usual, yours to interpret, but it should be eight inches in diameter and have a clear design on top.”

“On your marks,”

“Get set,”

“Bake!”

And once again, they were off. Remus began work at a leisurely pace. He wasn't worried this week. Pastries were something he made quite often, his mother had a particular fondness for them so Remus made sure there were nearly always some in the house. He was making a lemon meringue pie and could probably make it with his eyes closed at this point.

Was it too early in the competition for him to feel this calm? Possibly. Was Remus going to question it? Nope, he would take any break from the nerves that he could get.

“He set about making the pastry first - it needed time to rest in the fridge and Remus wanted to allow as much time for that as possible. He soon settled into the familiar cathartic movements or cubing the butter and sieving flour, wishing he could have his music blasting like he did at home. Baking meant music playing as loud as humanly possible.

He rolled his dough into a ball, wrapped it in cellophane and popped it in the fridge, clicking the button on the kettle as he retired to his station, pulling out a pot and a clean whisking bowl. He made the lemon curd quickly, adding a generous amount of lemon zest to make sure the flavour was there before setting it aside to cool and whipping up some egg whites and sugar to make a meringue mix.

“You look confident.” Lily commented as Remus finished making his cup of tea, his meringue still wishing in the bowl.

“I don’t want to jinx it but… I am?” I feel like pastry week is the one I was born to do.

Lily laughed at his theatrics. “Going for star baker again I see.” But Remus shook his head.

“Nah I’m not that confident… I’m just not worried about going home this week. Does that make sense?”

Lily nodded smiling. Remus stuck out his tongue at her cheekily before turning back to work.

“I’d be careful where you put that tongue Lupin.” Sirius said, appearing besides Remus in the manner in which only Sirius could move, flowing gracefully through a room. Remus tried so hard not to blush. He failed.

(But it was hot in the tent, so that would explain it… right?)

“It seems like a valuable commodity, you being on a baking show and all. Wouldn’t want you to lose your main asset.

Now if Remus were one; not on national television, two; a person who could deliver smooth lines well and three; talking to anyone other than his celebrity crush he might have said something along the lines of “Will you take care of it for me then?”

But Remus was on national television, he wasn’t smooth, this was Sirius Black and to be perfectly honest, that was a really terrible, cringy line that didn’t make all that much sense but Remus never claimed to be good at this.

Instead he just continued blushing and laughed nervously, hoping it would cover up his little pause.

“I already have an official taste tester, so I’m sure I’d get along just fine.”

“Did someone say ‘official taste tester’?” James chimed in, appearing on the other side of Remus.

“Okay, no offence but take this as your official eviction notice, there are too many people behind this bench.” Remus said, his tone joking but he also meant the words. He would chat later, now he needed to get back to work.

“Oh how you wound us!” James cried, clutching his chest. Sirius pretended to break down in tears before they both grinned and Remus and promptly went off to bug someone else. Remus shook his head fondly and set back to work. He rolled out his pastry and lined the tin, adding some (frankly, beautiful) crimping detail on the edge and popping it into the oven for fifteen minutes for a blind bake.

“Here we go.” He half sang, dragging out the last word as he pulled the tin out of the oven and ladled in his lemon curd. He piped on the meringue and took out the little blowtorch he had to finish it.

“I have a weapon!” He declared, brandishing it to Lily and Tonks on the bench next to him burst out laughing.

“Who would have thought that the innocent little Lupin would have so much fun with something so dangerous.” She teased.

“Oi!” Remus protested. “Who’s calling me innocent?”

Lily looked at him like he had lost his head. “Have you not been keeping up with Bake Off Twitter?”

“Uh, no? Should I be?”

“Yes!” Lily and Tonks enthused at the same time.

“It’s like, my only source of entertainment at this point.” Peter chimed in and Remus looked around in confusion. 

“Am I the only one who didn’t know about this?”

Lily shrugged. “I guess so.”

Sighing, Remus turned back to his pie. All he wanted to do now was whip out his phone and check out what was being said, but he had a cake to make. Or really, a pie to furnish.

Ever so carefully, Remus turned on the blowtorch and began moving it over the top of his creation, watching the white piping turn a beautiful gold.

“I’m kind of obsessed with the blue flame, I’m not going to lie.” Sirius said, coming up to Remus once again and Remus really wasn’t sure how he was supposed to handle fire and Sirius Black at the same time. This competition sure was testing more than his ability to bake.

“How long do we have left?” He asked instead of replying.

“Two minutes.” Sirius confirmed, just before James announced it to the entire room from the other side of the tent.

Remus nodded, biting his lip in concentration as he tidied up the finishing touches of his presentation, very aware of Sirius’ eyes on him the whole time, and then time was up.

“Okay bakers, set your creations on the end of your bench please.” Sirius said and the judges came into the tent.

“Mr Lupin, we’ll start with you today.” Dumbledore announced pleasantly and Remus smiled, the nerves that had been absent all morning making an appearance.

Dumbledore cut into the pie and Remus couldn’t stop himself from smiling when it looked perfect on the inside.

“The flavours in this are excellent.” McGonagall commented, going for another bite. Remus bit down his grin.

“Thank you.”

“I would have liked to maybe see a little more decoration on top.” Dumbledore said and Remus nodded along. “But otherwise, this was a lovely treat. I do have an affinity for lemon, you know.”

Remus beamed as they moved away. Pastry week was off to a good start.

“Thank god it’s lunch.” Lily groaned, throwing herself into a chair. “I know we have stools in the tent but, it’s just not the same.”

“Preach!” Tonks cried, collapsing down next to her.

Peter shuffled in, a few of the other contestants joining them. Sirius and James filtered over from where they had been chatting to the judges. Remus pulled out his phone so that he could finally look at Twitter.

“Remus Lupin is such a sweetheart, I would die for him.”

“Remus Lupin blushing is my new religion.”

“Has anyone else noticed the way Sirius looks at Remus? No? Just me?”

The last one caused Remus’ apparently infamous blush to appear. He really hoped Sirius hadn’t seen that one. Remus was just kidding himself if he thought Sirius hadn’t. He had been in the media since he was small - both his parents being famous politicians. Sirius was famously separated from the rest of the Black clan, leaving them and making his own life. He had jumped around jobs for a little while, Remus remembered reading once in an interview Sirius had done in some newspaper, before falling in love with presenting. He had been appearing on shows ever since.

“I’m so ready to just go to sleep now.” Peter groaned and Remus nodded in agreement.

“Seconded.” He said, wishing he could just close his eyes for a few moments. Sadly, the show must go on.

“How about we all go get dinner after we finish filming today?” Sirius suggested. Suddenly Remus was wide awake. The end of the day couldn’t come quick enough.

“Today for our technical challenge, our judges would like you to make six identical apple turnovers.” Sirius announced.

“They should have a buttery, flaky pastry with a soft, sweet filling.” James continued. “Everything you need can be found under the cloth on your bench.”

Remus eyed the blue and white checked cloth, keeping it’s secrets hidden.

“Do our judges have anything they say before they go?”

“Make sure you watch out for the colour.” McGonagall said vaguely and with that, they were gone.

“Well that was helpful.” Remus muttered to Lily as they uncovered their ingredients, Lily giggling at him.

“Have you ever made these before?” She asked. 

“Um… Once maybe?” Remus said, scrunching up his nose in thought. “But it was years ago. Have you?”

Lily shook her head. “No. I’m not sure why because I love them, but I’ve never made them.”

Remus nodded and picked up the sheet of ingredients, scanning the instructions quickly.

“They seem… pretty okay?”

“That’s what I was thinking too.” Lily agreed. “Which is making me nervous.”

Remus chuckled and nodded his head. “I suppose we’d better get to it then.”

“I would suppose so.” Lily agreed and that was the most they spoke for another while.

Remus made his dough, set it aside and prepared the apples, the actions new but familiar enough that his brain could tune out a little. His traitorous mind wandered to Sirius, to the tweets talking about the way Sirius looked at him. Remus could almost imagine it, him icing a cake, biting his lip in concentration while Sirius looked on, wishing he could be the one to take his lip between his teeth-

Remus shook himself out of his thoughts. That was crazy. Sirius didn’t look at him that way and he was only teasing himself to let himself fantasise about it.

He filled his pastries carefully, not wanting to over fill them or the dough would split, but if he under-stuffed them, they would just look collapsed and sad. He crimped the edges with a fork and using a knife, carefully cut slits in the dough to let the steam escape. Finally, he brushed the tops with an egg wash and sprinkled sugar over them before placing the tray into the oven.

Bake until cooked the recipe said and Remus groaned. Would it kill them to be a little more specific.

He turned around and saw Lily make a face at her recipe and smiled, knowing she was thinking the same thing. He crouched down and peeked into his oven, watching the dough cook.

“A watched pot never boils.”” Sirius chirped from above him and Remus looked up.

“Good thing this isn’t a pot then.”

Sirius snorted and hopped onto Remus’ counter. “How’re things going?”

“Pretty okay? So far today everything’s gone right, so I’m trying not to jinx it.”

Sirius laughed. “That’s fair. I won’t ask you any more so.”

“I’d appreciate that.” Remus grinned. “So, tonight? Don’t we all have dinner together anyway?”

Sirius shrugged. “At different times though! I mean, I know we have to stay in the hotel to protect our little bake off bubble but I thought maybe we could pretend it was a real night out, get dressed up, all that kind of thing.”

Remus nodded. “Sounds good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

Remus barely dared to breathe as they held eye contact for a moment, but then Sirius coughed and jumped down and Remus looked in on his turnovers, the moment nothing more than a blip on his radar.

(A blip he would think about a lot).

(But it was just a blip).

Remus looked at his pastries. Fuck, they were a little darker than he would have liked. Not burned, but still not the nice golden Remus had wanted. Fucking Sirius with his gorgeous fucking face and his maddening smile and his dumb ideas.

Remus set his pastries out on the plate he would present them on with a sigh. They weren’t bad, really they weren’t. But they could have been perfect.

Fucking Sirius Black.

(But damn if Remus wasn’t enamoured).

Sirius and James called time up and the bakers all made their way to the table at the front of the tent to put their baking behind their pictures for the blind judge. Remus waited patiently at the side for a moment as the people crowded around the table, waiting until there was more room. Finally he stepped up next to Peter and was just putting his plate down when Peter, who was talking to Tonks, waved his hands in a dramatic hand gesture and knocked the plate right out of Remus’ hands.

There was nothing Remus could do. From the moment Peter had made contact, Remus was doomed, unable to catch the plate. He could only watch in horror as his pastries crashed to the floor.

“Oh my god, Remus I am so sorry!” Peter cried in horror, dropping to his knees to Remus’ aid.

“It’s okay Pete.” He said, his throat tight. Just needing a minute to figure out what the fuck to do. Sirius was there in a heartbeat, salvaging two of the turnovers and putting them on a plate.

“Hey, Re, don’t worry, I’ll go talk to the judges now, it’ll be fine, I promise.”

Remus met his eyes and smiled tightly. “Thanks.”

Peter was still apologising profusely so Remus stood up and turned to him. “Pete, it’s fine really. It was an accident.”

They all sat down on their stools and Lily took Remus’ hand in hers. He squeezed it a little trying not to panic. This wasn’t his fault.

James and Sirius arrived just a second before the judges, having explained the situation. McGonagall and Dumbledore went to Remus’ first, still not knowing of course that the disaster turnovers belonged to him.

“I heard there was a bit of an accident.” Dumbledore said, eyeing the plate. “But never mind that, we’ll judge based on this one.

Remus let out a breath of relief as the pastry was cut down the middle and McGonagall and Dumbledore both took a bite.

“Slightly overbaked.” McGonagall commented. “But otherwise, quite good. I like the apple to pastry ratio.”

Dumbledore nodded. “Overall, quite good.”

Remus let out a breath of relief, having experienced the most stress he had encountered so far on the competition. The judges went through the rest of the pastries, and were quite impressed. They had all produced some decent bakes.

Remus came fourth, Lily came second. Peter had come fifth and Tonks won it. The rest of the contestants filed in the other slots.

Peter apologies again as Remus helped tidy his station and gather his things but Remus just smiled tiredly. “Pete, it’s really fine. There’s no harm done.”

Peter smiled gratefully and moved away. Remus walked back to the hotel with Lily, ready to relax.

“Are you wearing a shirt?” Lily yelled from the bathroom.

“Yeah but with skinny jeans. Dress that shit down.”

Lily snorted as she emerged into the bedroom wearing a floaty sort of dress that stopped just above the knee.

“Oh you look great!” Remus enthused as she gave him a little twirl.

“Yeah and you look hot. Who would have thought the bookworm could have such scandalous jeans!”

Remus blushed. “They’re not that bad.”

“Remus they’re practically painted on. But it’s great. Sirius will love them.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Yeah as if I was thinking about Sirius when I got dressed.”

(He was thinking about Sirius when he got dressed).

“You ready to go down?” She asked, holding out her elbow like a gentleman escorting a lady to a dance. Remus chuckled and linked her arm and together they strolled down to the hotel’s restaurant

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Britain's favourite bakers!” James declared as he strolled up to them just inside the restaurant. They both laughed but Remus didn’t miss the pink stain on Lily’s cheeks.

“Grab a seat anywhere.” James said, gesturing to the one long table, already half-filled with contestants and crew alike.

“The host even on your night off!” Lily joked and James grinned. 

“What can I say? I give the people what they want.”

Remus and Lily went to sit down, slotting in by Tonks, Marlene and Peter. Sirius and James joined them a couple of minutes later and the night kicked off. No one was drinking - they were filming the next morning. None of the bakers were risking being anything less than on top of their game and the rest of the crew were up a lot earlier to get the set prepared, but they didn’t need it. The food was good, the conversation was good and the people… well the people were great.

“So how did you get into presenting?” Lily asked Sirius as they all dung into their main course. 

James and Sirius grinned at it. “Well Jamie always knew it was what he wanted to do,” Sirius said, ruffling James’ hair and laughing when James tried to shove him off. “He was insufferable in school, always doing dramatic presentations and the like. I realised one day when I came to pick him up from the set of a show and, I don’t know, I just thought ‘hey I could do this’.” 

Remus smiled at the careful nonchalance Sirius had, it was almost as if he didn’t realise what an icon he’d become in the country.

“How did you all get into baking?”

Lily blushed, looking down at her plate, Remus burst out laughing, already knowing the story.

“Her sister told her she wouldn’t be able to bake well and Lily had to prove her wrong.” He told them and the table burst out laughing.

“In my defence,” Lily protested, “That was only for that first time! I realised I loved it and that’s why I bake now.”

“I don’t believe you.” Tonks said as he took a bite of her food, ducking when Lily threw a balled up napkin at her head.

“How about you Remus?” Sirius asked and Remus looked to his left to see those grey eyes trained on him.

“My mom always baked.” He said with a shrug. “I always used to help her. I don’t even remember when I started doing it myself, it was so long ago. I suppose it’s just something I’ve always done.”

Sirius smiled. “That’s nice.”

“Well I,” Tonks interjected, “Was forced to start baking in school. I hated it.”

Remus looked at her incredulously. “What?”

“Yeah! But then there was this cake I had to make for one of my exams and it was so good. And I wanted to eat it one day, so I made it, and I realised I didn’t actually hate baking, I just hated baking in school.”

“Okay but, does Bake Off not remind you of school?” Peter asked.

“Oh yeah,” Tonks agreed, nodding empathically. “I’m having major flashbacks. I have no idea how I thought this would be a good idea.”

“Tonks, I say this with love, but you are an idiot.” Remus wheezed, tears building in his eyes from laughing. 

The desserts came out and the waitress with ‘Dorcas’ on her name tag joked that she hoped they would be up to standards. Remus didn’t miss the way Marelene’s eyes followed her around the room. He looked up and saw Sirius noticing him notice. Their eyes met and Remus couldn’t fully express what it was, but something passed between them. Remus grinned and lifted a forkful of cake to his mouth, holding eye contact throughout. Sirius bit his lip and grinned.

It was a good night.

“Hello again bakers! As you well know, it’s time for our Showstopper challenge!” James said, grinning broadly. “This time, our judges are looking for a savoury twist.”

“They would like you to prepare twenty four amuse-bouche, made with filo pastry and of course, with a savoury filling of your choice.” Sirius continued

“Judges, any words of advice?”

“The trick to filo pastry is to try to stretch it as thin as possible.” Dumbledore said, and with that, the pair of them left the tent.

“Eloquent as ever.” James joked. “Alright, ready?”

“Set.”

“Bake!”

“Here we go again…” Tonks drawled, dragging out the last word. Remus shot her a grin.

“I hope you don’t feel like you’re back in school.” He teased. Tonks threw an onion at him. Things were good.

“Are you able to get the window pane?” Lily asked, lifting up on her tip-toes to try to peer over at Remus’ bench.

Remus lifted up his dough, stretching it and holding it up to the light. ‘Window panes’ in baking were essentially when you could stretch the dough so thin, it became transparent.”

“Em… Kind of? I mean it’s not perfect but I suppose it’s not the worst.” He shrugged and put it in the fridge. “As usual… that’s as good as it’s gonna get.”

Lily chuckled and placed her own dough in the fridge. “Seconded.”

Remus took out a pan and while it heated up, he started chopping sausage and black pudding into tiny pieces. He threw them on the pan to fry while he sliced an apple as thinly as possible before tossing them in the pan too. After he had taken his filling off the heat and let it cool down a little, he took out his dough and divided it into twenty five sections - leaving an extra piece of dough in case something went wrong.

He rolled the dough out until he thought it couldn’t possibly get any thinner, and then he rolled it a little dough. As with the turnovers, adding the right amount of filling was a little tricky. Remus had discovered that exactly one tablespoon seemed to produce the best result, so he measured pedantically, wanting to make sure this challenge was as perfect as possible. He crimped the edges (he was going to be so good at crimping after this week) and popped his pastries into the oven, starting a timer and then all that was left to do right now, was wait.

“This is the worst part.” Lily groaned. “It’s so boring.”

“Now I’m having school flashbacks.” Tonks agreed.

“Oh my god, stop being so dramatic and just make a cup of tea.” Remus said. “Tea is the magic solution to everything.”

Tea, it turned out, was not quite the magic solution to everything, because when Remus took his pastries out of the oven, a few of them had split.

“But I had a formula!” He muttered mostly to himself. “Dumbass pastries, doing me dirty like this.”

“And here we have a wild Remus Lupin in his natural habitat.” Sirius commentated, appearing at his side. “Remus, are you really talking to the baking?”

Remus looked at him, his face revealing nothing. “They betrayed me.”

“Talking to them won’t change that.”

“Maybe not, but at least they’ll feel ashamed, the little shits.”

“Remus! Can you never let me get footage that I can actually use? I swear I spend half my time editing your scenes, you and your mouth.” Marlene exclaimed.

Remus winced. “Oops?”

Marlene grumbled as she walked away. Sirius shot him a wink.

“Don’t worry,” He said. “I quite like your mouth.”

Remus dropped the pastry he was holding. It was a good thing he made twenty five.

Peter won star baker. “A bloody good thing too - pastries are basically the only thing I eat!” and a woman named Sarah was sent home. Remus registered approximately none of this. All he could hear were Sirius’ words replaying over and over in his head.

“I quite like your mouth.”

It really was official. Remus Lupin was completely and utterly fucked.

[justmenoworries]

Fate: The Winx Saga - How Not To Reboot A Beloved Franchise

Okay, I think I speak for everyone here when I say: We saw this coming.

We saw this coming as soon as that godawful trailer dropped on youtube. But because I hate myself and because I wanted to give this pile of shit a chance, I watched it.

All of it.

It sucked and I won’t do it again.

The End.

....

Nah, I’m kidding.

Here’s why Fate: The Winx Saga sucked ass.

(Spoilers under the cut! Pfft, like anyone cares.)

The Story:

I suppose now you’ll expect me to tell you that F:TWS was a generic, boring slog-fest.

That it offered the most clichéd take on a Chosen One-story since Eragon and that it’s half-assed attempts to be scary through bringing in a zombie apocalypse made it even more painfully obvious just how hard the story was trying to be edgy and ‘’’’’’mature’’’’’’’’.

And, yeah, that’s pretty much how it went.

...Oh, I’m sorry, did you expect something fresh and surprising?

So did I when I watched this garbage.

The title says Winx, but honestly the story is more about Bloom than anyone else. At least they were faithful to the source material in one aspect, am I right fellow Winx-fans?

I hope you like Alfea, because you won’t be spending time anywhere else! Gone are the dozen colorful, unique worlds with their own eco-systems and culture.

Now we have The Otherworld, which is just earth, but with magic.

Oh yeah, and remember how each magic and non-magic users had their own, specialized schools to got to?

Cloud Tower, Alfea, Red Fountain?

Yeah, that’s all Alfea now.

Remember how Winx Club juggled great, charismatic villains and everyday teenage-drama in a way that made both seem interesting and neither obnoxious?

Fate fails miserably at that.

The subplot about the zombies- Oh, sorry, The Burned Ones ™  slowly invading Alfea couldn’t be more dry and uninteresting if it tried. You have hints of political intrigue in the background with the Solarians scheming and taking over in the end, but trust me when I say: You won’t care.

And since the character are either miserable, unlikable or both, you also won’t care about the teenage drama.

Because it’s every single teenage drama plot-line you’ve already seen in edgy reboots like Riverdale, Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, etc.

To add insult to injury, season 1 ends with the villains and antagonists taking over Alfea with Solaria’s help, as if anyone would be baited into a season 2 after you just dragged us through a worse version of The Walking Dead.

I would say this is what you watch to lull you to sleep, but all the incessant whining and belly-aching wouldn’t let you.

And because this is the ‘‘‘‘‘‘mature’‘‘‘‘‘ reboot, there will be no transformations and no bright colors. Just some nice effects for magic and that’s it.

Because, you know.

No one watched Winx Club for those, am I right? /s

And because in modern, edgy reboots women can never just be friends, the Winx Club start out hating each other, until suddenly they’re the best of friends in episode 4, Stella included.

Cool, huh?

The Characters:

I’ll get straight to the point: The main cast is horrible.

Not acting-wise, the actors are doing the best they can with the script, but the way they’re written...

God, the way they’re written.

For starters, Stella is a Karen now. In the very first episode she attempts to get Bloom killed, then runs away to cry into Sky’s shoulder rather than apologize.

Flora was replaced by a white character named Terra, who the writers probably thought would be received well solely because she’s awkward and makes a lot of Strawman-Feminist statements.

Techna got straight-up written out.

Musa was white-washed and is a Mind Fairy instead of a Music Fairy now, because her being the Fairy of Music wasn’t ‘‘‘‘mature’‘‘‘ enough for this reboot.

Bloom is a whiny, spoiled brat who is willing to endanger absolutely everyone around her to get what she wants. And in the end, the plot rewards her for it.

Aisha is the only Winx Club-member who remains likeable, but she’s firmly planted in the supporting character-role.

Most of the Specialists got written out too. No Timmy, no Helia, no Nabu, no Brandon.

Sky is still there, but he serves mainly as a boy toy for Stella and Bloom to fight over, because that needed to be a thing, I guess.

Riven was changed from Jerk with a Heart of Gold who learns to be better to just a one-note jerk who never changes and never learns. He’s also not with Musa in this story. Even though their romance was by far the most engaging one in the original series, aside from maybe Aisha and Nabu.

We get a new character named Dane, but he’s just there to be either a bully-victim or a side-character for others to take advantage of. Did I mention he’s the only black guy in the main cast? Yeah. There’s also this really asinine running gag that he might be gay, to tease a possible relationship with Riven, but nothing ever comes off it.

The teacher-characters are all pretty much the same: Duty-driven, want to protect the ones under their care, but end up alienating them by not being entirely honest with them because they think their students aren’t ready for The Truth, blah blah blah, moving on.

The villains don’t fare much better.

The Trix got fused into one single character named Beatrix (haha, get it?) and she’s just... The Worst. And not in a  good way. She’s obviously supposed to be the Charming Bad Girl-type but you’re more likely to laugh your ass off every time she opens her mouth than be intrigued. Whoever wrote her dialogue clearly has no idea how teenagers talk. She hooks up with Riven and Dane for no reason in particular and it’s heavily implied these three are going to be the new Trix. Which is...no. Just no.

The headmistress’ secretary gets killed off in the third episode and doesn’t do much in the first two, so I have nothing to say about him.

Rosalind is a worse, female Darth Sidious who is trying so hard to get Bloom to join the Dark Side and I guarantee you, you will not care. The story also tries to present her as something of a well-intentioned extremist, but forgets to actually let her have a point in her murders and genocides.

Hey, remember when Winx Club characters were different and unique?

The writers of this reboot clearly don’t.

The Aesthetic:

Hey kids!

You know what’s better than bright colors and nice, comforting palettes?

Slapping a dull grey filter on everything and calling it a day!

If I had to list all the reasons why Fate’s lack of style is so heartbreaking and disappointing, we’d be here all day.

So I’m just gonna show you a few screenshots from both the original series and the reboot and let that speak for itself.

The Original:

The Reboot:

Honestly, what do I even need to say?

The reboot sucked out everything that made Winx Club Winx Club and replaced it with “YA-novel palette #17247845453″.

Thanks, I hate it.

In Conclusion:

Fate: The Winx Saga could have been a new take on Winx Club’s story.

Maybe even introduced new concepts and characters tat could have been just as iconic as the original ones.

It chose to be every reboot ever instead, made everything grimdark and fundamentally misunderstood the meaning of “Gray Morality”.

Do yourself a favor and re-watch the original instead.

It’ll be a much better use of your time.