#ESPECIALLY DOT BARRETT

[vivalabunbun]

Overdue Books and Ghost Stories

Summary: If the scholars at the Akademiya are so smart, why can’t they remember a few due dates? 

Word Count: 6.4K

Tags: Alhaithamx GN! Reader, Shy! Reader (you hate eye contact), Librarian! Reader, Fluff, SFW, attempts at humor, pure fluff, written before 3.6 so Alhaitham is still acting grand sage, slowish burn?, Akademiya setting, slight mutual pining, Sumeru boys drive the librarian insane, especially a certain gray-haired bookworm. 

Authors note: I just wanted something light-hearted and fun to write as a reward for getting stuff done. Shy people who force themselves to be responsible and hate eye contact unite! Enjoy!

He’s being followed. 

Alhaitham can feel the fleeting presence lingering just a few seconds behind him.

The warm late afternoon breeze caressing through his grey locks, his cape trailing behind, and belt clattering with each fluid step. Teal-orange eyes faced forward towards the hectic stall-lined streets, but his attention was focused on the ghost that trails him from behind. 

Every merge into the crowded pathways lined with vendors, every sharp turn down hidden allies, every street he circles back on, the traces linger like a dream fleeting from the memories of deep sleep.

He can’t allow a ghost to accompany him home, lest it decides to haunt the house. 

Alhaitham had wasted enough time walking in aimless circles, if he can’t throw off the ghost, he concludes he must exorcise it. 

Long legs pivot into an alley confined by stone walls and empty of shouting merchants and haggling shoppers. One, two, three slow strides towards the pale dead end that faced him. 

“I know you’re there. Might as well stop with the games.” 

Ghosts don’t exist outside tales told to innocent children to keep them tucked tightly under the covers. However, the iniquitous villains that terrorize the plot do, and they’re known as humans. 

Were they going to fight or flee? 

The presence behind Alhaitham finally materialized into something more than a fleeting dream. He glanced over his shoulder, hand ready to summon his sword. Behind him stood an unassuming figure, with no sensible ill intentions, their hands up as a sign of surrender.

Eyes adverted elsewhere like a child caught trying to sneak one more piece of candied Ajilenakh Nut. 

The viridescent robe that enveloped your figure paired with the matching barrette, there’s no mistaking your identity. Another scholar from the Akademiya, great. 

With power comes prestige, two notions Alhaitham couldn’t care less for. He was more than satisfied as a simple Scribe filing away applications in the archives away from searching eyes.

Those days were a luxury stolen from him by the title of “Acting Grand Sage”. 

Now it wasn’t an uncommon sight for some researcher to come floundering through the crowded halls of the institution towards the ashen-haired man. From time to time there would be the bold student, agglutinating to his side with their wasted attempts at a conversation.

With great power comes great inconveniences. 

Inconveniences that unabashedly believed their polite smiles could divert his teal gaze away from the insincerity. That offering a cup of coffee along with a rehearsed elevator pitch could sow the seeds of a superficial bridge.

One where they’d walk across with forms awaiting a signature along dotted lines or a towards a potential high seat at the Akademiya.

Their desire for this absent bridge coerced them to shallow down their pride, spurring this fruitless endeavor despite the Acting Grand Sage’s indifference and unreturned interest in small talk.

First, he was pressured into taking a position he didn’t want, then he became the target of people’s irrelevant aspirations, and most damning of it all even his privacy’s being invaded. To put it frankly, Alhaitham’s tired of it all.

Surely, it couldn’t take this long for the great institution of wisdom to select another leader, when can he finally stop this sham act?

“I’m off the clock, come find me on the next working day.” He’d prefer it if you didn’t. 

The frigidness of his words with their thinly veiled politeness didn’t cause a single muscle of yours to budge. 

“The Epistulae Morales ad Lucilium has been overdue for 6 weeks now, please return it to the House of Daena immediately.” A hand extended out in front of you, open and expecting. 

No introduction, no chivalrous greeting, no frivolous small talk. Alhaitham certainly wasn’t expecting this from the strange ghost that stalked him. 

Oh, so that’s where your eyes were. Honing in solely on the book currently clutched by his hip. One of the many books he signed out of the House Daena on a whim, simple academic works to stimulate his mind during the respite between busybodies and paperwork.

One he then promptly cast to the side by the beckoning of a journal from the restricted access collection. Only after a pile of files was removed from his desk that his eyes rediscovered the title. 

“I understand, I shall promptly return it by the end of the next work day.” 

“No, a student has requested this title for a week now, after they’re done with it, you may sign it out again.” Voice firm and steady as you gestured for the book to be returned to your hand. 

No. An unfamiliar word spoken in a tone now foreign to the towering man.

His keen eyes observed your homogeneous uniform of standard greens and gold, you must be a regular librarian employed by the Akademiya. The Akademiya currently under his jurisdiction.

How bold of you, or has this job already drained you of all sense of self-preservation? 

Regardless, your statement wasn’t without merit. The Epistulae Morales ad Lucilium doesn’t belong to him, and who was he to inconvenience a standard employee this Wednesday afternoon?

It wouldn’t serve him any benefit to be in the ire of a librarian, Alhaitham concludes it would be wise to just surrender the book. So he relinquished it.

From your pocket, your other hand produced a slip of parchment. 

“Here is the late fee, please address the payment to the House of Daena by next Wednesday.” 

Instead of offering the Acting Grand Sage a cup of coffee, you offered him a fine in exchange for confiscating his book.

With a slight bow, the ghost was exorcised, ambling back into the busy streets of Sumeru City until your back disappears from his teal eyes. 

Alhaitham was left with no introduction, no coffee, and no book to spend the evening with. Even still, his mind has found something else to ponder about to pass the time.

Alhaitham slowly rejoins the buzzing city streets, the chattering voices carried by the cool breeze that rustled his cape and made his ash locks brush his cheeks. 

‘How refreshing,’ he thought. 

 When the current Acting Grand Sage of the Akademiya was announced most people never heard his name before. Have they ever shared a class together? Were they ever in a group research project together? How could someone so brilliant escape the eyes of eager upstarts?

They could’ve had a prominent headstart in their careers if they’d built those bridges all those years back. 

To be fair, you would’ve fallen into the clueless demographic as well. Were the two of you in the same graduating class? If your job didn’t require you to check the library ledgers every day, his name would’ve eluded you.

Even with a brisk thumbing through of the ledgers, it’s hard to miss the repetition printed on the pages. 

Alhaitham was a regular name to be found in the library ledgers, you’d even argue he’s the biggest patron of the House of Daena. 

However, it wasn’t the only pattern that would jump out to even the blindest man in Teyvat. What would be printed next to each book signed out by Alhaitham? Overdue.

Yes, you would think a man brilliant enough to plan the greatest insurrection in Sumeru’s history could remember a few due dates. But the ledgers refute that impression. 

Before, the Scribe turned Grand Sage would simply return the books 1 or 2 weeks overdue and pay the fee at the same time.

Was it due to the increased responsibilities that now befell him or the increased financial freedom granted by a bigger paycheck that caused this pattern of extended tardiness? 

Regardless, The Epistulae Morales ad Lucilium has returned back to the House of Daena, much to the delight of a hysterical student who pushed off a paper for a bit too long.

That Wednesday afternoon was the first time you spoke to the mysterious man of infamy, in an alleyway tucked away from prying eyes. He gave you the book without much of a fight and accepted the punishment without complaint. 

If only it was always this easy. 

First impression overall? The whispers in the halls were an inaccurate depiction of Alhaitham. To you at least, he was a rather tolerable man with a good sense of regulations, handsome hands too.

Was your first impression bad? Impudent even? Script rushed by the pounding metronome of your heart, skipping over a few key sentences, like an introduction. 

Oh, you also forgot to call him Grand Sage… Surely he won’t hold such a petty grudge over that, he seems sensible.  

You flipped through the library ledgers one last time before your duties ended for the day, stopping on a page as you pursed your lip at the familiar name next to The Critique of Pure Reason boldly stamped overdue. 

If only the Grand Sage would fix this sloppy habit of his. 

Alhaitham is very much aware of the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon, the frequency illusion. The tendency to notice something more often after noticing it for the first time. It wasn’t hard to pinpoint the exact inception of this phenomenon he was experiencing, a certain meeting in an alleyway. 

–

“General Mahamatra,” A distinct cadence enticed the Ashen-haired man’s focus away from the matra delivering his daily report. 

There’s a hush that befell the halls of the Akademiya today, no reason to speculate, it’d obvious to even the dimmest of fools. Cyno, the General Mahamatra, returned today from the sandy wastelands. 

In fact, Alhaitham had just concluded his brief discussion with the electro wielder a few moments prior. The General left the paperwork delivery to the woefully ignored matra currently in front of the dendro wielder. 

The faint reverberation of the dreaded title paralyzed the few scholars and researchers that dared roam the in presence of the General. Intense scarlet eyes centered on the viridescent clad librarian that called, your eyes seemed occupied with the object encased by tan fingers. 

“Law and Order of the Pursuit of Wisdom is overdue.” A steady cadence incited the General. 

“By how long?” Spoke an authoritarian tone. 

“8 weeks, General.” There wasn’t the slightest pause from you. 

The dense tension within the enclosed space was palpable, many pairs of eyes fixed on the scene happening under these fluorescent lights.

The seconds counting down to the decisive moment, what will become of the incautious librarian after this show-down? 

…

“My apologies, I should’ve returned the book before I embarked, may I pay the fee now?” The treacherous edge was absent from the general’s voice. 

With a swift nod, you turned on your heel, leading the General Mahamatra toward the judgment awaiting him in the House of Daena. A sight so flipped on its head, the witnesses of this event couldn’t seem to decide which direction was up anymore.

–

“Mr. Kaveh.” 

A librarian intercepted a certain famed architect’s search for a certain Grand Sage evading the responsibilities piling up on a polished desk.

A spectacle was certainly about to happen in the House of Daena, Alhaitham gathers from his position just covered by a towering bookshelf. 

“Oh, yes?” The furrow between blond eyebrows dissipates in an instant, his fury distracted for now by the polite use of his name. 

“Were you the one to sign out The Death and Life of Great Design, Mr. Kaveh?” You held out the title in question, holy text for every architecture, your impassive eyes trained on the cover. 

“That’s correct, I’m certain I returned it in time, has anything arisen?” The light of Kshahrewar raised a brow at the sudden inquiry.

“Would you mind explaining this, Mr. Kaveh?” 

The book was pried open, revealing to the world the chaotic collage of jumbled words and sketches haphazardly scribbled among the print with the faintest whiff of wine.

Even from this distance, the bold vandalism was observable to his teal eyes. So was the slackened jaw of the architect with his now saucer-sized eyes. 

The closest equivalent Alhaitham could compare your current expression with was a parent’s gaze toward the discovery of a crayon mural on a wall. Three pairs of eyes observing the blatant defacement of literature. 

“The replacement cost of this book is 141,471 mora, it was an antique print.” Your hands gingerly shut the covers, hiding the book’s shame away. 

 “H-how much??” 

“I’ve written the amount down on this form, please address the payment to the House of Daena by the end of this month, Mr. Kaveh.” From your pocket, you presented the blonde with a fine that exacerbated his dreadful finances. 

With this, your performance concluded, a mannered bow before swiveling back to your post at the library’s front desk. Leaving the famed Kaveh silent and color absent from his face, the slip of parchment pathetically pinched between ailing fingers. 

Stepping back into the shadow of the shelves, Alhaitham reaches a hand up to enable the feature of his earphones that preserves his sanity. He already had a premonition of what was to greet him, might as well enjoy the fleeting moments of silence while it lasted. 

–

The sky over Sumeru was a brilliant blue, tufts of fluffy clouds cushioned the earth from the harshest rays of the sun, but not enough to embargo the comforting warmth. It’d be a shame to throw away such beautiful weather in the confines of an office.

Enough justification for Alhaitham to enjoy a quiet reading session under a hidden pavilion, just to the side of a neglected pathway at the Akademiya. 

Just because a place is neglected, it doesn’t mean it’s completely abandoned. The scurrying of two sets of steps made their presence known along the uneven path. 

“Please return Handbook of Qualitative Research to the House of Daena,” your stony voice perked his ears. 

Those words weren’t directed towards the unseen Acting Grand Sage, no, they were addressed towards the researcher whom you were just a few seconds behind. Impassive gaze concentrated on the overdue book in his arms. 

The exasperated man huffed out a breath, bringing a hand up to rub at his dry eyes drooping under the weight of the discolored skin hanging under them. Alhaitham hypothesizes that this must have gone on for a while. 

“Listen, I know it’s overdue, I promise to return it once this report is finished.” The researcher tries to quicken his strides. 

“No, it’s late 4 weeks now, please hand over the book.” That signature gesture made its appearance, palms open and expecting, your pace never once faltering. 

“Could you please make an exception, just this once?” Tired exasperation morphing into a sharper edge. 

“There are three other patrons queuing for this book, I’ll add you to the list and notify you once the title is available again.” Indifferent eyes never once left the imprisoned book. 

Ah, your words became the straw that broke the Sumpter Beast’s back.

“Three? THREE??! I don’t have the time! If they’re students they can wait, this project has dragged out for months, months! It’s only now drawing to a close, oh for the love of Lesser Lord Kusanali, just let me-”

Fatigue overboiled into raw frustration, the researcher now lively as ever, moved senselessly close to your face. 

One boot-clad step makes its appearance from behind a pillar. It’d be best to de-escalate the situation now before the potential for a physical alteration manifests into reality.

Especially for a librarian that’s too focused on a book to recognize the looming threat. As Acting Grand Sage, maintaining order was the priority.  

Instantaneously, a lone finger shot out towards the azure sky, with it followed the wearied eyes of a man mid-manifesto. The hypnotically soothing hue of the vast space momentarily ceased the researcher’s grievance, reminding him of the bigger picture, of the bigger world. 

Bringing him comfort with the realization that these sleepless nights won’t be permanent, that this too shall pass. 

Was that the goal of your diversion? Probably not. Regardless, the hostage has been rescued into your secure arms, back where the book belonged.

The view of the sky must’ve reminded the researcher’s body of its limit, as his movements faltered back sluggishly. Bloodshot eyes blinking at his now empty hands. 

“Please address the payment to the House of Daena by next week.” A slip of parchment produced from your pocket fills that void for him. 

Without another word, the librarian trekked back up the beaten path, leaving behind two very silent men. With only the researcher’s figure left in sight, Alhaitham’s mind quickly lost interest.

Withdrawing back behind the cover of the marble pillar, he couldn’t help but recount the details. 

‘The General Librarian’, ‘The Punisher of Fines’, ‘The Ghost of Due Dates Past’. All names coined by the sleep-deprived minds of slouching students and destitute scholars awaiting the saving grace that was their paycheck. 

Perhaps it’s that inorganic cadence of your voice. Or how one of your hands reaches out to demand the return of printed works while the other indited the transgressors with a note worth months of coffee.

Maybe it’s the focus of your catatonic gaze solely upon the books in question, denying wrongdoers a chance of mercy formed by eye contact. 

An itch tickled the back of Alhaitham’s throat, the same sensation that tugged the corner of his lips upwards towards the brilliant sky.

How did such a fascinating individual slip away from under his nose for so long? 

Almost there, just a little longer, the doors to the House of Daena came into view, you’re so close to reprieve. One hand still clutching the freshly recused book against your chest, you pried the door to the staff room open. Empty.

Thank the Archons. 

Ducking into the sanctuary devoid of library patrons and chattering coworkers, sealing the solid wood behind your back, you could finally breathe.

Lungs burning for the taste of oxygen again, the pounding in your chest subsiding with each greedy gulp. Drained figure finding solstice against the sturdy door.

You achieved your goal, so why were you so defeated? 

His eyes got close, dangerously close. In your peripheral, the puffiness of his eye bags were in full detail. Your lids shut firmly as if shutting out the intrusive thoughts that threatened to infiltrate your mind.

It’s fine, everything is fine, your eyes never met. There’s no arrow in the back of your heel, the script has not gone off course. 

What a childish Achilles heel, eye contact, the most basic requirement for a conversation between peers and people. One you can’t fulfill. Even the briefest moment of connection will crumble the mask you dawn, exposing the puny coward to the world.

One look and you’ll be thrown off script, your career’s saving grace. 

Book overdue?: “Please return [Title] and address the late fee payment to the House of Danea by next week.” 

Damages?: “Please compensate the House of Daena for the damages done to [Title] by next month.”

Need a book that isn’t available?: “I’ll add your name to the waitlist for [Title] and inform you when it’s returned.” 

Lines rehearsed time and time again, now ingrained into your tongue, spoken by instinct. It’s not a conversation, it’s merely a stage play, performed by a coward shielded by a crafted blanket of indifference. 

‘The General Librarian’, ‘The Punisher of Fines’, ‘The Ghost of Due Dates Past’.

Better that they interpret your aversion to eye contact as malice instead of cowardice. After all, the world is not kind, especially not towards the meek. Papers and delegated responsibilities suddenly thrust upon those too shy to voice their dismay. 

What could the meek do? Nothing. So they’ll silently grit their teeth and bare it all as a doormat trampled by those whose voices don’t stumble and shutter. 

A scheme you’ve fell victim to time and time again within the walls of this hallow institute of knowledge. An experience under oath by oneself to never repeat again.

The intermission is over, the performer must return back to their positions. You unlatched the door, stepping back into the fluorescent lights of the House of Daena. 

Alhaitham is aware of the frequency illusion, however, he’d argue that it’s no longer an illusion. The ghost has come back to haunt him. For what reason? Alhaitham’s not sure. Surely his books aren’t that overdue, and if they were then why hasn’t your hand appeared in front of him? 

Instead, you left traces, whispers of your presence in the form of handkerchiefs and pressed flowers on slips of paper.

The evidence found beside the Acting Grande Sage’s lunches and piles of applications, his teal eyes always just catching the briefest viridescent wisp fleeing the scene of the crime. 

The ashen-haired man finds great delight in abstruse books, the rare feeling of reading a line more than once to grasp the concepts formed on the page.

He enjoys the sporadic occurrences that challenge his sharp mind, it’s good to feel fresh thoughts run through. 

Has Alhaitham found an archaic journal tucked away in some dusty corner? Perhaps he found a handwritten copy of a book, one with fewer than ten in existence. Was it a long-forgotten text that challenged contemporary beliefs?

Surely, to baffle the man known as Alhaitham, the scripts must have something reality-shattering. Like something saying that the azure sky, with its moon and sun, were nothing but mere imitations.   

No. It wasn’t any print signed out from the restricted collection in the House of Daena that had Alhaitham’s mind pondering the slightest nuances. It was the librarian, currently penning his name down in the ledgers, that perplexed the towering man. 

Humans are flawed in the sense that they’re uncomfortable with the concept of ‘unconditionality’. Everything has a fair price and equivalent exchange. One back was scratched in return for the same. So, what did you want? 

Were you trying to form a bridge? One crafted from slips of paper and thin decorative fabric? If so, then why has your introduction yet to reach his ears? 

The eyes are the window to the soul. Windows that offer indispensable insight into the other person’s agenda and convictions. For the Acting Grand Sage, it’s easier for him to gain access to the restricted vaults in the House of Daena than the librarian’s eyes. 

Is it unprofessional to think that the Grand Sage, the figurehead of the Akademiya, is a menace? If you kept these thoughts to yourself then it shouldn’t be a problem, right? 

Could it be the nagging of Kshahrewar students, whining over the unavailability of their holy text, that made you hypersensitive to the treatment of printed works? 

The students should direct their grievances towards the ‘light’ of their Darshan, the one that defaced their holy text. You’re a librarian, not a magician you can’t make books appear from the abyss. 

It was a coincidence to witness the Grand Sage, Alhaitham, enjoying a shawarma wrap under the shade of a stained-glass pavilion. There’s nothing wrong with a man just having his lunch. However, there was something very wrong with how his other hand held a book.

Paper becomes discolored in the stained area and transparent as molecules of oil fill the spaces between cellulose fibers. Over time, the parchment will become brown and brittle, the ink lifted by the fatty acids. 

But what can you do? Interrupt the Grand Sage’s lunch? Lecture a superior on proper book care procedures? 

You’re not dense. 

Still, you could take some preventative measures. Done in the form of a handkerchief carefully folded just behind his right shoulder. He seemed too engrossed in the text to perceive your proximity to him. It was just for a few seconds anyways. You retreated. 

The next incident happened within the wall of the House of Daena, where food and drinks were strictly forbidden. It was a slow day, with nothing much to do besides returning a few books back to their proper homes along the hundreds of shelves. 

During one of the many trips pushing the cart back and forth along the path, a certain head of ashen hair with teal streaks fell into your peripheral. It must be a slow day for him too. The Grand Sage certainly made himself comfortable, desk piled with stacks of books strewn about. 

The purse on your lips returns as one side of your cheek is sucked in. A few of the books were opened and placed paper-side down on the smooth table. You witnessed him losing interest in his current text, letting it join the spread bodies of its fellow brethren. 

Laying a book face-down breaks the binding and weakens the hinges, where the covers attach to the pages. Some of those titles have existed for more than double your combined ages, think of their poor spines. 

Out of pity for the aged scripts and for your own patience, while passing his table from a pocket you slipped out a clumsily made bookmark.

Fashioned from scrap paper, craft supplies, and one of the many Sumeru Roses that dotted the paths in this nation. A new hobby of yours that’s proven itself useful. 

With your duty fulfilled you returned back among the towering shelves. 

–

The job of a Grand Sage is demanding, much more demand than the job description of a librarian, you understood that. However, surely there are enough hours in the day for him to have lunch and read separately. 

The position of Grand Sage means he often has to determine the best policies and actions. So why can’t he read one book at a time, close it properly, then pick up the next? 

Being the Grand Sage must be time-consuming and hectic, but he could at least send someone to return his books before the due date. 

How many handkerchiefs did you purchase in the last month alone? How many yards of decorative string? Is it possible to make the Sumeru Rose endangered? Would it be appropriate for you to itemize your purchases for reimbursement by the Akademiya? 

For a person that enjoys reading printed works, it seems that he’s only concerned with the contents of the book and not its physical well-being. A menace to literature. 

You were the unlucky sheep tasked with delivering the new budget proposal for the House of Daena. Stepping into the grand office after an unnecessarily long elevator ride, you wondered what violations will greet you this time, or if the elusive man was even here. 

Ambling towards his desk, eyes focused on the budget in front of you, only switching position once the polished wood came into view. 

Ah, he had another book face-down on the desk with one of your bookmarks just off to the side. He almost had it. Glancing up, your world momentarily stilled. 

The Grand Sage was in his office after all. Chest gently rose and fell, face supported by the back of his knuckle, long lashes closed. Thank Archons, he’s asleep. Your heart restarts its tempo. 

Your eyes quickly snapped back to the cover of the book, The Symposium, you recognized that title from this morning’s flip through the ledgers. It’s overdue.

There’s not even a point in sighing, you expected this. Flipping over the philosophical work you gingerly placed the bookmark in properly, then shut the covers closed. 

Curious eyes wandered back to the sleeping figure in the board seat. His ashen hair looked soft as it fell across his face, lips slightly parted as quiet breaths exhaled.

From his lips, your greedy eyes began to trail down his covered arms, all the way down to the bare break that exposed his robust arm-

You stopped yourself, he’s asleep. You must be reading too many books from a certain island nation.

Is it unprofessional to think that the Grand Sage, the figurehead of the Akademiya, is attractive? If you kept these thoughts to yourself then it shouldn’t be a problem, right? 

You left two pieces of parchment on his desk. 

‘I’ll give a one-week extension, please return this title to the House of Daena before then.’

Alhaitham certainly didn’t expect to find this from ‘The Ghost of Due Dates Past’ when waking from a nap, he wondered if it was conquered by the remnants of sleep. 

Or perhaps it was their parting gift, one last lingering trace before the ghost that haunted him for these past few months retreated back into their world. No more handkerchiefs left by his lunches. No more pressed flowers to decorate his desk. His teal eyes were unable to catch a very specific hue of viridescences. 

Did the ghost slip out from under his nose again? 

–

There isn’t much of a reason for Alhaitham to be at the Pardis Dhyai, after all, he’s not a Amurta scholar. Just a chore from this temporary position. His boot-clad steps made their way up the stone path blooming with lush vegetation, the view was almost enough to make up for the troublesome journey.  

Keen eyes honed in on familiar ebony ears from the doorway to the greenhouse. Oh, Tighnari is here? What a rare sight. 

“Please pay the late fee by the end of the week.” A certain cadence seized his attention. 

“Yes, yes, I get it,” Tighnari sighed, moving to place his closed pen where he left off in the book. 

“Chief Forest Ranger, please use this instead.” From your pocket emerged an all too familiar violet. 

“Oh? Did you make this yourself? Mm, a Sumeru Rose, on my way here I noticed that these plants don’t seem as plentiful recently.” The forest ranger observed the bookmark in his gloved hands. 

“I wouldn’t know, sir.” 

Oh, so you gave those bookmarks out to anyone indiscriminately. It made sense, you’re a librarian, employed to help the patrons of the House of Daena with their literary needs.

It didn’t mean much just to hand out a few slips of paper. Something annoying and greener than the foliage scratched at Alhaitham’s neck. 

–

At the Pardis Dhyai, you had a duty to fulfill, as did he. Not an appropriate time to initiate a conversation.

Thus, the ashen-haired man can only mull over the situation in the stillness of his own home. A blond architect sent out to fetch groceries to account for a certain damages fee. 

A lone finger taps rhythmically on solid oak while the opposite hand supports his pondering head. As quickly as you came, you left just as suddenly. As capricious as the wind, slipping through the gaps of his fingers just as easily.

How does one catch a ghost? 

Beryl gaze travels the length of the workspace, over the scattered sheets and abandoned quills, landing upon negligently stacked covers. A scheme conquers itself into existence.

Throughout history, many methods and rituals have been used to summon beings from the great beyond. As a scholar, who was he not to test those hypotheses?

The Norton Anthology of World Literature; Overdue 5 weeks

Academic Charisma and the Origins of the Research; Overdue 5 weeks

Cases on Academic Rights and Justice; Overdue 5 weeks

The Symposium; Overdue 8 weeks

Patron: Alhaitham 

Ah, you can’t let this continue. It’s time for ‘The Ghost of Due Dates Past’ to collect their dues. Even if you wanted to bash your head into the ledgers. 

–

Just beyond the threshold of a pavilion offering shelter from the sun's rays stood a familiar caped frame. Unabashedly reading The Symposium, back resting against the pillar. 

Plugging the title into your script your lungs muster up a deep inhale, it’s time for the coward to dance on stage. 

“Grand Sage.” You stopped a few paces away. 

There was the gentle clatter of his belt and cape, the weight of his gaze now resting upon your shoulders, but your eyes were honed in on the cover in his clutches. You got his title this time. 

Alhaitham feels he should give bygone scholars and minds more merit, a ghost can be summoned, an incentive is needed for the ritual. 

“Please return The Symposium immediately, and address the payment to the House of Daena by the end of the week.” Like rehearsed, your hand reached out, palms awaiting the smooth back of the book. 

His half-gloved hand shut the pages together, rotating the book horizontally, it slowly travels the distance to your hands. Your eyes chaperoned every movement, legs eager to return backstage to the House of Daena. 

Just as the smooth cover brushed against the clammy skin of your palms before your fingers could fully enclose around it, the title suddenly took a detour. With it followed your attentive eyes. 

It’s a childish scheme really, like a schoolyard bully using his vertical advantage to hold the object of desire just out of reach. As the saying goes, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. Such elementary actions hold some merit… because they worked. 

Attentive eyes clashed with teal, stunned irises that dilated faster than the thump of your heart. You got to witness the Grand Sage’s features in all their glory for the first time, so his beryl eyes also held some citrine in them. 

Instantly, your neck snapped to the side. But it’s already too late, the coward dropped their mask, shattering at their feet. Revealing to the world the scarlet face of the wimp whose sheet was stripped off their heads, there was never a ghost, only a performer.

You were standing in the shade, yet it felt as if you stumbled into the desert. 

Alhaitham’s indebted to the fact you don’t look people in the eyes, such an event would prove disastrous for this institution of wisdom and rationality. Such a sight should have limited access he deems. 

A sweet breeze blows through the pavilion, cooling his cheeks and yours the same, however, the ears hidden under his earphones still burned. 

Throughout the House of Daena, the soft fluttering of pages turning and quills scribbling down notes could be heard. At the front, a librarian glances at the clock slowly ticking down to the hour of freedom. 

“I would like to return these,” spoke a husky voice. 

Your eyes traveled up from the freshly stacked books up toned forearms, reaching their final destination on a pair of impartial teal irises. 

Opening up the ledger, you swiftly flipped to a familiar name. Scanning the titles you noted each one down. 

The Uses of Literacy; due in 2 weeks

The Great Conversation; due in 2 weeks

Contingency, Irony, and Solidarity; due in 2 weeks

Patron: Alhaitham

“Thank you for returning the books before due, have a great evening.” You bowed a little at the Grand Sage. Gathering up the books into your hand and placing them in the return cart. 

It’s past 5:30 pm, the Acting Grand Sage is now off the clock. Thus, he didn’t let one second go to waste. Long legs taking swift strides out of the grand doors of the Akademiya, skillfully dodging the searching eyes of ambitious scholars.

Ambling down the stone pathways to the bustling city center. 

Entering the favored tavern of any famished local, Alhaitham places his order. Watching the clock as Lambad packed his two to-go bags.

Dropping the mora off on the counter, Alhaitham seized the freshly made dinners into his hands, exiting the tavern. Merging back into the crowded pathways until he reached his front door. Shifting the bags into one hand, he turns the silver key to his abode. 

Placing the takeout bags onto the polished kitchen table, his teal eyes once again wander towards a clock, 6:10 pm. 

He prepares two glasses and a bottle of wine from a secured cabinet. It’s the weekend now, there’s no risk in enjoying a few glasses tonight. Just as the ashen-haired man finished setting the table, the unlocked door lightly creaks ajar. 

Your frame soon comes into view, arms stretched above your head to loosen the tension that comes with a desk job. A breathy yawn followed the release of tight muscles along your back, walking into the kitchen where Alhaitham stood. 

“You’ve worked hard today.”

You hummed in agreement, hand gently rubbing the fatigue from your eyes as the delicious scent of tandoori roast chicken beckoned your nose.

Food and drinks were strictly forbidden in the House of Daena, and you’re quite ravenous. Advancing toward the paper bag located on your side of the table with an eager bounce in your step. 

Only to be blocked by a toned arm. 

“Aren’t you forgetting something, my librarian?” Inquired a low voice. 

You glanced up at the hurdle that dare separate you from a delicious meal, lip pursed out just the slightest bit. 

“I returned my books before due, desired behavior requires positive reinforcement.” There’s a glint in his beryl eyes. 

You huffed, you should’ve known he was feeling a bit cheeky today from the moment he stepped foot into the library. Still, he’s right, good behavior deserves a reward. 

Tenderly your hands clasped around his soft cheeks, guiding his face downwards as you straighten your back. His ashen locks tickled you as you awarded the towering man his prizes. 

Your lips gingerly press themselves against his features, the warmth of your burning cheeks felt soothing to him, and you could feel the upward pull of his lips.

Once on the forehead, once under his eye, once on the nose, and… one final time against his soft lips.

Quickly pulling away, the slow blink followed by a slightly quirked eyebrow tells you enough about his thoughts. 

“The last one was a thanks for the food.” You turned your flaming cheeks away, settling down and releasing your meal from the confines of the bag. 

Your lover hums in understanding, a cheeky smirk ever so clear on his usually stoic face. Regardless, he moves to his side of the table and unpacks his dinner, filling two glasses with fragrant wine.

A clink signified the start of your dinner ritual, performed away from prying eyes. 

Somewhere during the comfortably quiet dinner, Alhaitham’s hand by habit inched towards the book placed just off to the side, violet bookmark recording his last endeavor among the text. 

Just as quickly as it started, his hand stopped. Like a stern swat, your eyes pierced into the back of his hand. A silent warning. He withdrew his hand back to his side, deciding to practice proper dining manners, for you of course. 

Satisfied, your attention returns back to the seasoned meat and sauces on your plate, fork and knife quickly getting to work. 

Alhaitham’s perfectly spiced food took a backseat in his mind, eyes more interested in observing the endearing fullness of your cheeks as you chewed.

Inquisitive irises returned his stare, he sees the teal that reflected off. How could the corners of his mouth not lift at the sight in front of him?

Please keep your eyes on him, so that he may continue to watch you for now and for the far future. His librarian. 

Fin~

©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS. 

[yusume-the-writer]

Valentine's Day

Decided to do this as a Valentine's Day special, hope you like it

An interesting fact that I discovered is that people who are called Valentina/Valentino/Valentim this day is like an Onomastic birthday (Birthday of someone who is named after the Saint of that day) So happy birthday Valentina/Valentino/Valentim!!!

Summary: How they react to receiving gifts from their s/o on Valentine's Day

Confused

They stand there with their eyebrows widened as they stare at the gift in their hands.

It is not a surprise for them to receive gifts at this time or even hundreds of their admirers

Sometimes it was a hassle to have so many chocolates or gifts

But receiving one of your own? It was something they hadn't imagined, but they liked the idea.

Suddenly he caresses your head and sends you a genuine smile

"Thank you" They say with that sparkle in their eyes that only you and one of the few to witness

They wouldn't mind getting a Valentine's Day gift if it was yours

Tom Knowles, Rayne Ames, Lance Crown, Wirth Mádl, Ryoh Grantz, Carpaccio Luo-Yang, Shuen Getsuku, Lance Crown

Stunned

They just stand there with wide eyes when they see you handing them a gift on Valentine's Day

Surprised and little they are stunned

They never got a Valentine's gift from anyone...unless someone stole them

But receiving a gift from you? They're a blushing mess

Without them realizing it, their face is redder than tomatoes, peppers or any other fruit/vegetable that is red.

"Everything is fine?!?" You say worried about them

"Y-yes!!! Everything is great" They manage to say trying to hide the excitement of getting something for Valentine's Day especially from their s/o

Your cuteness will someday be the death of them

Dot Barrett, Abyss Razor, Cello Morceau, Tron Morceau, Milo Genius, Cell War

Joyful

As soon as they realize that you are witnessing it on Valentine's Day, their surroundings light up

It doesn't matter if they've had a bad day or their expression is dull or they just don't show it, the air around them lights up and even seems to have flowers.

"Really for me!" They say doubtful

"Yes! Besides, today is the day to give a gift to your loved one" You say as you bring the gift to them

Suddenly they reach into your pocket and take out a gift and give it to you

"I thought the same thing" They say laughing a little at the coincidence

You can't help but laugh at the coincidence as they exchange gifts

It seems like you read each other's minds

Finn Ames, Lemon Irvine, Love Cute, Renatus Revol, Kaldo Gehenna, Lovie Rosequartz, Delisaster, Malcolm Curtis, Galuf Gargaron, Margarette Macaron, Max Land, Adam Jobs

Without expression

They just stand there while staring at their present, yet it was so silent you could hear a pin drop.

They don't say anything it seems like they didn't like it at all

"If you don't like-" You try to say but suddenly they go through something in your pocket and take out a gift

"...Looks like we had the same idea" They say trying to hide the amusement in their tone as they hand it to you

"Ah! And indeed heh~" You laugh as they exchange gifts

Fate likes to play tricks on you both

Abel Walker, Tsurara Halestone, Agito Tyrone, Orter Mádl, Sophina Biblia, Domina Blowelive, Charles Contini, Lévis Rosequartz, Kenny Clark, Innocent Zero(teenager), Doom, Famin, Epidem, Malta Barrett, Mash Burnedead, Meliadoul Amy(teenager), Wahlberg Baigan(teenager), Olore Andrew, Anser Shinri

[b0njourbeach]

Do you have any voice fancasts for when (if) Twst gets an anime?

Hmm, you mean as in the cast fans think is fitting or fandubs? (Well, I'm guessing you'd have said fandubs if you meant it 💀). Anyways, I have only seen a few English dub choices of others (which I don't even remember anymore fml) but I personally have some hopes regarding the Dub (since we obviously - and hopefully - don't need a new Sub cast):

For example, I really hope that Dub Ace gets Benjamin Diskin (previous voice of Tachihara [BSD] and VA of Dot Barrett [Mashle] - And many more, ofc) bc that voice just makes sense to me. Idk, especially while watching Mashle, Dinkins voice is just Ace-coded.

I've seen many people say they hope Riddle gets Ciels VA but I'm so hard against that. For one: The joke is getting old. On the other hand, I don't think it suits as good as people believe. I personally hope for Zeno Robinson (VA of Vanitas [Vanitas No Carte] and Dazai Osamu [Bungou to Alchemist]).

And I personally would completely lose it if they'd manage to give the Tweels the VAs of the Ouran Twins. Just making it for the shits and giggles, it would be hilarious (they *are* just as mischievous, that's for sure).

But honestly? I'd be already happy if they'd get the anime done to begin with lmfaoo (and I hope they'll keep the Jp voices as they are)

[I also feel like I misunderstood your question, so lmk if I'm wrong] Do you have any?

[zabberzim]

Landot: an essay 🪐💥

Contains manga spoilers for the later chapters

Also some head canons and basically how I interpret them

@silvercrane14 here’s the aforementioned ramble

_________________________

「自古紅藍出CP」

Is a saying which basically means “Red & Blue make the perfect couple, ever since the beginning of time” and it’s true.

In terms of character and colourisation, red and blue typically stand to be opposites of each other, their characters reflect that as well in their personalities. Red and blue characters turn couples tend to also always start off as enemies, or at least some sort of rivalry, before they get to know more about the other and develop the enemies to friends to lovers arc.

Colouration of these traits are usually found in a character’s colour scheme, and is especially obvious in Lance and Dot in MASHLE as both their hair and eye colour are of their respective colours, blue and red.

(I have no idea how Komodo colours his characters, but the blue and red in their respective characters are especially prominent.)

Dot Barrett is hot-headed, a bit too cocky and loud for his own good but still a good kid who stands up for what he thinks is right (suffering from main character syndrome, more on that in another post lol); Lance Crown is cool, a pretty boy character who’s powerful and uses this power to help others as the team mom (values his sister above all else , weird but respectable once you understand how close he was to losing the person who he shares unconditional sibling love with)

Dot hates all pretty boys (Lance) and Lance despises rude boors (Dot), setting the stage for the rivalry between the two early on in the story.

Lance has announced that him and Mash were rivals even earlier on after their fight, but to me, this rivalry is more of a friendly rivalry one sided rivalry than true rivalry, as their rivalry stems from them fighting for the same goal rather than unconditional hatred. Plus, LanDot rivalry seems more mutual, something that needn’t be announced and stems from the soul, appearing solely for the fact that they are incompatible, yet in the end they still find a compromise but that might just be my delusions. Of course, both rivalries have underlying friendship between them, they are a group of friends after all.

Prominent LanDot interactions in the story line would be their first meeting(CH18), baby fight(CH64),training arc(103?) , and Endgame fight (122). But besides these, they’ve been shown fighting in the background sometimes ( dumbasses fight in the ED)

SO lets start with the prominent points first

—————————————————————————————————————

Chapter 64. Dot, Lance and how babies are made ( sus title but ok)

During the fight with Sitter Baby, who’s basically Alessi’s stand Sethan from JJBA pt.3, Sitter deages Dot into an adorable bb. With limited magic as a baby, Dot reluctantly finds Lance for help, in which was can see that Lance is just fucking pissed at Dot for turning into a baby. Thinking that Dot turned into a baby as a prank at a time of love and war and having the audacity to think that Dot is annoying to look at, we know that the loathing is actually very much mutual. Comparing how he reacts to Dot with how he reacts to Mash, Lemon or Finn when they want his help shows that this dynamic is unique to them. Dot also comes to realise just how powerful Lance actually is.

This establishes the enemy part in enemies to friends to lovers

Chapter 103. The Training Arc

Lance wants to get strong for the endgame fight and for his sister, in which Dot follows because why not.

(I’m not sure if Wahlberg especially assigned them to work together or if Lance just went to find Wahlberg for training and Dot came with)

During the training arc, they train under No.1 Mash Bully, Orter Mádl, who throws our boys into shadow realm with water for basic sustenance, where they are forced to train together despite each other’s dismay. Dot had briefly considered actually working together but Lance being stubborn and self reliant makes it hard, Lance being naturally stronger than Dot , having the whole world on the line of course makes it understandable on why he considers Dot to be dragging him down ( mean, but ok??)

A mini speech from Dot on how he’d die than be a baggage to anyone seems to cause Lance to set aside their differences and actually train together.

Lance still doesn’t trust Dot to not drag him down but their bond has still somewhat strengthened in learning how to fight together, a little bit of the friends to lovers bit but mostly still enemies.

Orter sees himself and his junior in them multiple times throughout, I will expand on this later.

Chapter 114. Entering Endgame

Entering the final arc and deciding who fights who, we get plenty silly interactions and a hint towards who and what caused Anna to lose her magic

Lances fear of ghosts and bugs, and Dot’s bright idea to head but him into a wall.

Lance knowing that one of the brothers may be directly responsible to his sisters illness makes him not want to work with Dot, despite their training together, now with his sister directly on the line he’d risk nothing to get his revenge. 3rd brother, Epidermis the pudding cult leader, is the one behind Annas illness and who they fight against. Dot has tea with Epididmus before it was revealed how hes the one behind this. The boys argue :(

Chapter 122. Ultimate Proof that LanDot is canon

Enemies to friends to lovers speedrun

Lance pushes Dot away more to fully avenge his sister himself, again, his sister is above all else to Lance , hes not risking Dot, the guy that just took a bite of poison pudding so recklessly, to drag him down. He NEEDS to win, NEEDS to beat the fuck out of Epidem.

But to finally be able to confront the person responsible for stealing his only joy of this world from him, he’s overwhelmed with anger and unable to summon his thirds, Nemesis. When the condition of his sister is revealed to both Epipen and Dot , Epithelial builds a fake Anna with reference from the pendant, taunts Lance and Dot cant just stand there anymore despite their previous discourse, rushing up from where he stood to steal the Anna pendant back.

“We’re friends.” And with a slap to Lances face , he stops being stubborn and fights with, then alongside Dot.

Friends,now onto lovers

With Dot having slapped him out of his dumbassery, he summons his thirds in whole, a shit ton of black holes making Epipi intimidated into also summoning his thirds, sailor moon Sisyphus. Having to fight against a machine gun would be hard for most teens, Lance is able to use the black holes to absorb and dodge the bullets but Dot is still a one liner, there’s only so much he can hold off. Casting syphilis to end the weaker one (Dot) off,

Lance jumps in front of the finishing blow to protect

Dot

Yes he hates him , despises him even. Loud, crude, Dot is the most annoying person hes ever had the displeasure of meeting.

But

For some reason his body decided to move on its own,

And its up to Dot now to finish it all…

A foolish choice really, letting the weaker one survive? Why?

Seeing his homie sacrifice himself for his sake, Dot goes sicko mode and swears to kill Epidem hundredfold (my boy is so good at maths)

From machine guns to a whole Arsenal, he really just started blasting before Sissy burns into crisp

Dot goes to check on Lance, an emotional questioning of why hed sacrifice himself before Lance tells him to shut the fuck up and that he has Anna pins to protect him. Some mangas got plot armour, we get sister pin armour.

Now I’m going to ramble about this scene now and why there’s got to be some sort of love

Fellas, is it straight to die for someone you hate?

We’ve see early on how Lance usually thinks of Anna before taking action, even in battle, and obviously the self sacrifice is a heat in the moment decision.

But id like to argue that this means Dot bypassed the Anna protocol. You’d think Anna wouldn’t like Lance fighting someone for no reason and would definitely disapprove of his constant quarrels with Dot, right? Even when he was out fighting bullies when he was young there was a net gain even if Anna gets worried. Lance fighting Dot despite these factors, there’s only a net loss in them fighting yet he still does it , makes Dot an exception to the brain Anna protocol.

And that’s saying a lot with how he puts his sister to such a high calibre .

These fools bring out the worst in each other when they fight( jealousy and stubbornness) but also the best in each other when they fight together (teamwork, motivation and stability)

Lance is finally able to confront the person responsible for stealing his only joy, yet he throws it all away, for… Dot?

Epidem considers killing Dot to get at least the weaker one out of the way, yet Lance jumps in front to prevent his demise. Dot is weaker than Lance, and Lance is so close to avenging his sister, letting Dot die would mean he wouldn’t drag him down anymore and would allow Lance to achieve his goal easier. Lance shielding Dot, preventing him from dying ,essentially throws away all Lance has worked for.

He believes Dot will drag him down before the fight and reluctance to work with Dot shows that he believes Dot is still weaker than him, and that he doesn’t know about Dot’s trump card the Ira Kreuz. (Only Finn and Mash has seen Ira Kreuz Dot in action, lack of trust in Dot’s strength might mean either he doesn’t know it or that he can rely on it)

Which makes it even irrational on Lance’s part.

If Lance, the stronger one, dies, what hope is there for Dot to succeed? For all he knows, success lies solely on his shoulders only, and maybe maybe with Dot too, who’s said he’d rather die than be a burden, so why sacrifice success over some chump you hate, burdening you down from an epic win? Keep in mind the wrath he has on Epidem, if Dot fails, there’s no cure for his sister, the world may continue to lay in chaos, there’s no backup plan like with the waiting-for-Mash-to-wake-up-fight later, even if Dot survives, how long can he survive for? There’s unconditional trust in that sacrifice.

On the off chance that Lance knew of this trump card before hand, I highly doubt that Lance planned this all out to pretend to die in Dot’s arms just to trigger the Ira Kreuz, because that’d be kinda fucked and a bit out of character…

The gay-ass monologue seems to have come from the heart and there’s no way his sister pins actually prevented him from becoming Swiss cheese. If hed taken the sister pins into account, he wouldn’t let Dot get too worried and say something ambiguous like “its up to you now”, some Romeo Juliet shit.

But what about Lances self sacrificing spree later?

Lance later goes on to actively risk his life for Ochoa and Mash, the latter turning him into a clock with the seconds hand piercing through him, its what Anna would’ve wanted him to do, he says.

Through this journey hes learnt the power of friendship and is integrating it into fights. We know hed risk himself for the greater good, but never as extreme as this, so even if you don’t agree with on the love aspect, you’ve gotta agree that something clicked in him in almost seeing Dot die ( and how its reflex to go and save him)

Risking his life for Mash and Ochoa is a conscious decision, I don’t think this is the same for Dot.

I actually think he thinks hes about to die in the Epidem fight

While both the fight with IZ and Epidem is important to Lance, both basically meaning the entire world to him, you’re telling me he can stay conscious with a minute hand pierced through him but cant stay conscious for an attack that didn’t hurt him as much??

I believe that after his gay-ass monologue where he borderline confesses, he actually wanted to die but cant, so he’s taking every opportunity to do it now/j

Parallel between LanDot and the dynamic between Orter and his nameless junior

In the Orter fight chapter, his backstory is reveal in which he also had a spikey teethed zigzaggy mark friend ,junior,that’s also way too hot-blooded for his own good. Which is what triggers normally cold blooded deadpan Orter to soften on the two during training arc, especially Dot.

Strong prideful bastards with their silly spikey companions, you can see how Orter and his junior mirrors Lance and Dot respectively in design, at least Dot with Junior. Of course, their personalities and goals differ but its a similar dynamic, similar enough for Orter to reminiscent about his late junior, who sacrificed himself for the greater good.

In the backstory,Orter, who usually doesn’t care about anything but his needs, unwilling to put in more efforts given the imbalance of quantity return, eventually starts to actually put effort into his job after juniors constant nagging. There’s less fighting going on between them, but the silly one eventually brings out something better in the prideful one.

Amongst the corrupted magic world of Mashle, its rare to see an actual police conduct justice, junior tries his best to conduct justice by the rules but ends up dying in his pursuit of Domina. Becoming a Divine Visionary, Orter takes juniors last words to heart and reinforces everything with law and order (I’m sure killing magicless kids isn’t what junior had in mind though) DVs have great political influence, to use this influence to just follow through on what your bestie believed in shows just how much his passing affected him.

While, unlike Lance, Orter had no other friends besides his junior, not even mentioning his brother once, if Lance had to witness Dot die like how junior did, it’d be devastating to him

Honestly, i just think having a parallel to LanDot supports my statement already.

Conclusion

To me, there’s something inherently special about these two’s relationship, whether it be the enemies to friends to lovers speedrun or dynamic parallel, they complete each other despite constant arguing. There will be many pretty boys and there will be many hot blooded sillies, but the underlying fondness and care they share. As a pair acknowledged by an official double sided pillow , LanDot is my favourite ship in Mashle

[joannie95]

I Hope

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: When the love of your life breaks your heart you hope he feels that same pain

Word Count: 2K+

Warnings: angst, angst and more angst 

A/N: Oh my god its a miracle I actually wrote something. This story is base off of I Hope by Gabby Barrett I had fun writing it and I hope you all enjoy it. Thank you to @mo320 and @celestialbarnes for helping me with ideas and looking over the story.

As I sit with Bucky in the coffee house, I start to reminisce over our last few years together. Since the beginning it felt like he was it for me, I pictured a life with him. Get married, have a few kids, and grow old together. I reached across the table and held his hand in mine. I give him a loving smile but notice his attention is elsewhere. This has been happening more and more lately. I don't want to admit to myself that somethings wrong because as soon as I do, that future I've always pictured together could come crashing down. "Are you alright Bucky?" 

"Hmm?" He quickly looks up from his phone before closing the screen. "Sorry what?" 

"I asked if you're alright? You seem distracted." I try to meet his eyes but he seems to be doing everything to avoid them. 

"Yeah I'm fine, listen I know this is short notice but I have to go. Steve needs me at the shop a car part got delivered but no one can find it." He gets up ignoring your protests of never spending time together anymore. "I'm sorry, I'll see you at home." And with that, he's gone. 

I'm not sure how long I sat there, coffee long forgotten. There's a tap on my shoulder, I look up and see my friend Peggy. When Bucky and I started dating I became close with his best friend Steve's girlfriend. 

"Y/N how are you?" She pulled me into a tight hug. "Where's Bucky? I thought you two were spending the day together." 

"Yeah um, we were but he said steve needed his help at the shop. It's ok though." I was trying hard to convince her but it seems like I was trying to convince myself even more. "Are you here alone? Do you want to join me?" 

Before she could respond Steve walks up to the both of you and puts his arm around Peggy. "Hey Y/N how are you doing, where's Bucky?" 

They looked at each other when they saw the confused look on your face. "What do you mean? He was texting you earlier wasn't he? He said you needed his help at the shop." 

Steve seemed just as confused as me after hearing that. "I haven't talked to Bucky all day." He looked towards Peggy then back at me. "Maybe you misheard him." 

I quickly gathered my things and got up. "Yeah you're probably right, I should go." 

Peggy grabbed onto my arm when I nearly stumbled in my attempt to rush. "Please stay, you can join us." 

I quickly thanked her but decided it was best to leave. "No it's fine really, I need to go find Bucky." Once outside I tried to figure out what to do, I took my phone out and tried to call him. It rang three times before sending me to voice-mail, I tried once more and again it rang three times then straight to voice-mail. He had to see that I was calling him right? I decided it was best to just take a cab home and wait for him there. 

Once I was home I couldn't stop panicking. Why did he lie to me? What was he doing? I'm not sure how much time had passed but soon enough I heard the door close and bucky walked inside. "Where have you been?" 

He looks up with a smile as he's hanging up his coat. "Hello to you too." 

I got off the couch and walked towards him. I want to scream but decided it's best to stay calm. "Where have you been Bucky? And don't tell me you were at the shop because I ran into Steve and he said he hasn't talked to you today." 

"Doll." He takes a step towards me. 

"Just tell me the truth, we can work things out but I need you to tell me the truth." I blink the tears away and try to steady my breathing. 

"I'm sorry." He runs his hands through his hair and looks defeated. Either for what he did or being caught. "Nothing happened, I met her at work and she gave me her number and we started talking but we never did anything. I promise." 

"But something did happen!" I turn away trying to keep my distance. "Is she who you left me to see today, just tell me that." 

He looks down and kicks the ground. "Yes." He tries to take my hands in his but I pull back before he can. "I promise all we did was talk." 

"Just tell me why? Am I not good enough for you? Am I not pretty enough? I thought everything was fine but obviously if you have to go looking for someone else it's not." All these doubts are finally coming out, I never wanted to admit them but deep down I think I've always felt this way. 

"No that's not it, you have to believe me." 

"If I was good enough you wouldn't have had to go behind my back and lie to my face to meet her. Just tell me why? What did I do?" 

"I was stupid. Someone gave me attention and it made me feel good I never intended for it to go past talking I promise." He walked up to me and slowly reached towards me, this time allowing him he placed his hands on my cheeks and pulled me close. "I'm sorry, please forgive me. We can work this out like you said just please forgive me." 

"I don't know Bucky." This is the love of my life, but I'm not sure if the pain in my heart from finding out the truth outweighs the pain of never being able to hold him again. I place my hands over his and spoke barely above a whisper. "Please don't ever hurt me like this again." I look up and see relief in his eyes. 

He wipes away the tears that started to fall from my eyes before kissing me. First on my forehead, then each cheek, and lastly a soft turned heated kiss on my lips. "I promise I won't." 

And I believed him, I started to trust him again and everything was going so great. Until it wasn't. The first few weeks after the incident was great, Bucky put more focus into our relationship. It felt like it did when we first started dating. Romantic gestures, spontaneous date nights it was all perfect. Then one day I noticed it, he was more focused on his phone than he was on me. I tried to convince myself I was just imagining things, he wouldn't try so hard to work things out just to do it all over again right? 

I was getting ready for a date night, Bucky made reservations at a restaurant he knew I wanted to go to. While he was in the shower I was deciding between two dresses, a fitted dress that hugged every curve or a dress that showed just enough skin that was sure to drive him crazy. While I was debating on them I heard a ping from the nightstand and assumed it was Steve texting Bucky so I decided to ignore it and keep getting ready. After a few minutes, I heard two more notifications. "Bucky! Bucky your phones going off, I think it might be Steve!" Deciding to just save my voice I go grab the phone and take it to him. As I pick it up another notification appears and I feel the world stop and my heart shatter. No, no he promised. He promised it was nothing and he would stop. 

"Sorry about that doll, were you calling me?" When I didn't answer him he walked up behind me. "Y/N, are you alright?"  He was about to place his hand on my shoulder but my next question made him freeze in his spot. 

"Who's Dot?" I turn around and look at him not knowing if I'm more angry or heartbroken. "James, who is Dot and why is she so excited to see you this weekend when you told me you were going to visit your parents?" 

"Y/N, please. I can explain." 

I threw his phone across the room hoping it broke when I heard it hit the wall. "Explain what? Explain why you lied to me! Explain why you're probably screwing the girl you told me you stopped talking to! Or explain how you could throw this entire relationship away! I was stupid enough to trust you and give you a second chance and this is what you do." I push past him and start packing whatever I can into a small suitcase. 

He walks up behind me and tries to stop me. "Baby please, just stop and listen to me. I'm sorry" 

"No. I'm sorry that I thought I could trust you but I'm done." I keep packing and turn towards him once I’m done. "If you're willing to ruin us, ruin the future we were planning for her. Then I'm done" 

As I make my way towards the door he pulls me back. He wraps his arms around me and holds me close. "Baby please." There's a strain in his voice, I don't have to look to know he's crying. "Please don't leave me, I need you. I love you." 

I force myself out of his hold and turn to him. "No, you don't, if you actually loved me none of this would have ever happened and you would have never put me through this much pain." I walk towards the door and put my hand on the handle. Before I open it I turn back. "Just remember that you caused this James, it was all you." Before I could hear his response I walked out and slammed the door. I willed myself not to cry, not yet. I get in my car and drive. I didn't know what to do or where to go but the next thing I know I'm standing in front of a house knocking on a door. It opens and they look shocked at my current state. "I know I may be asking a lot especially since you both knew Bucky long before I came along but I really need a place to stay right now." As soon as I was pulled into a tight hug the floodgates opened and all the emotions came pouring out. 

Peggy walked me towards a spare room and Steve brought my bag. She sat me down in bed and held me as I cried. The exhaustion from all the crying must have put me to sleep. I slowly open my eyes and adjust to the light coming through the door and attempt to sit up, a few moments later Peggy walks through the door with a glass of water in her hand. 

"Oh good, you're up, here drink this. After all that crying I'm sure you need it." She handed me the glass and took it back once it was empty. 

"What time is it?" I try to clear my throat, all that crying made my voice incredibly hoarse. 

A little past 11 pm, you slept for a few hours once you stopped crying. She sat down next to me and wrapped her arms around me. "You don't have to talk about what happened if you're not ready but you can stay here as long as you want. And you don't have to worry about James bothering you, Steve gave him quite an earful. I've never heard him yell at James that way as long as I've known them. 

Hearing that almost made me want to smile. "I feel so stupid Peg." My voice cracked and I felt like crying again. "How could I trust him again only for him to cheat on me again?" 

"You listen to me, the only stupid one in this situation is James. He knew exactly what he was doing and that's on him, not you. I promise you will get through this, Steve and I will be with you the entire time." 

"Thank you, Peggy, I don't know what I'd do without you" 

It didn't happen immediately but Peggy was right as always. With some time and help from my friends, I was able to put James and his betrayal behind me. Within a couple of days, I was able to laugh and smile again. Within a couple of weeks, I was able to stop crying over the pain he caused. Within a couple of months, I was able to go out with friends and have fun again even after hearing that James never stopped seeing that girl he was cheating with. 

That's exactly what I was doing tonight. I was out with Peggy, having drinks and enjoying life. We had a discussion that even though things with James ended badly I didn't want to lose her and Steve as friends and that it didn't mean they couldn't be friends with him either. Steve especially, I didn't want my pain to be the reason he loses a lifelong friendship. 

"Looks like we're out of drinks, I'll go get us some more." I weave through the crowded room and walk up to the bar and order a couple of drinks. While I wait I feel someone bump into me. I turn around and am about to tell them to watch where they're going. My eyes go wide when I see who's standing before me. 

"Y/N, hi how are you?" 

"James." You take pleasure when you see him cringe at the name. "I'm good, how are you and that girl you're seeing, what was her name again? Donna, Dora." I feign innocence as I incorrectly guess her name. 

"Dot, and we're fine." 

I follow his gaze towards a redhead who's getting a little too close to another man. "Looks like it." I turn and grab my drinks ready to leave this situation. " I should get going, Peggy's waiting." 

"Wait. Before you go I wanted to apologize for everything I did. I didn't mean-" 

I cut him off before he could finish his sentence. "I'm gonna stop you right there, if you were going to say you didn't mean to hurt me then I don't want to hear it. You knew exactly what you were doing and you knew exactly what it would do to me once I found out and honestly at this point I really don't care." 

I take a step towards him and with a smile on my face tried to sound as sincere as possible. "I hope you both have a wonderful life together James. I hope you go on plenty of dates and I hope you know she's the one by the end of the night. I hope you never ever felt more free and tell all your friends that you're so happy.

I hope she comes along and wrecks every one of your plans, I hope you spend your last dime to put a rock on her perfectly manicured hand. I hope she's wilder than your wildest dreams and that she's everything you're ever gonna need." I lose your smile and continue in a serious tone. "And then I hope she cheats on you like you did on me." Before he could respond I excuse myself and walk back towards my table. 

"Hey I was starting to get worried, is everything alright?" 

"Actually Peggy everything is great." I smile as we toast and down our drinks. After tonight everything feels like it'll be ok.

Tag List:

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[lucidtobio]

doing their makeup !

w. osamu , lev , and yamaguchi

[ fluff , gn!reader ]

miya osamu

honestly he wouldn't even care

just as long as you keep the makeup simple

for him, it's an opportunity to get closer to you

"can i do your makeup?"

"eh?"

not long after you ask, he's already laying down with you straddling him

his hands may or may not be on your thighs 😏

osamu lays verrryyy still

so still you almost think he's dead asleep

"osamu?" "hm?" "oh good, i was starting to plan your funeral."

you planned to do a small wing with light blue eyeshadow to highlight his steely eyes

swiping the brush across his eyelids, he could feel your breath against his cheek

the proximity between you two caused osamu to blush deeply

"why are your cheeks red already? i don't remember putting on the blush..." "s-shut up!"

in the end he looks hotter than usual wbk

haiba lev

he has no complaints

lev probably asked you to do his makeup, tbh

as a future model, he obviously needs practice

"what do you want me to do?"

"everything 🤩"

you end up doing a dramatic look with lots of pink and yellow

you're sitting on your bed across from the tall boy

he has to dip down so you can reach his face easier

his favorite thing is when you rub the moisturizer into his skin

your hands against his warm cheeks feel so nice

lev can't help giggles from escaping as the fluffy brush taps his eyelids

too bad he can't keep his eyes open for shit

when you're putting on the mascara, lev is constantly blinking

"lev, you're messing it up!"

"it's not my fault that it's attacking my eyelashes! >:("

only after threatening him with kisses are you able to get the pigment onto his light lashes

when you finish, you put a pink barrette in his hair, clipping his bangs back

the whole look took a little longer than necessary, but the time was well spent

yamaguchi tadashi

he had no complaints at all

in fact, he was flattered you asked him in the first place

"tadashi, can i do your makeup?"

"me? as in me tadashi?"

like lev, you sit across from him but on the floor (ooo so fancy)

NO BC IMAGINE DOING COW EYELINER ON YAMS

let me elaborate; thick white liner with little black spots

lots of light pink blush especially on the nose!!

you used a liquid pigment to rub into the apples of his cheeks

leaning in close to make sure it was spread evenly, you accidentally ended up knocking your face into his

not in the cute way

you teared up a little at the impact but brushed it off

que yamaguchi apologizing profusely

um moving on-

define his freckles and he will love you forever

since it used to be one of his biggest insecurities, it touches his heart that you think they're so cute

bonus points if you pepper kisses along the dots of pigment dusting his face

yamaguchi will flush redder than ronald mcdonald's left shoe

the look is finished off with a shiny, pink lipgloss

to sum it up: yamaguchi is pretty asf !! and also v in love w you

a/n: this is my first time writing headcanons! lmk if it was bad bc i have no idea ;-;

⤿ written 3.17.2021

[broadstbroskis]

our love lasts so long | william nylander

a/n: oh hello!! am i here with yet another childhood friends to lovers fic?? why yes, yes i am. one (mildly) based on a taylor swift song, as the title would suggest (seven, a underrated folklore BOP)? yes again. the biggest of shoutouts to anyone who let me talk about this over the past few days but especially to @brockadoodles who listened to many many things and to @danglesnipecelly for reminding me about my childhood friends to lovers brand

word count: 7k

-----

The girls are being mean to her.

They’re older than her, a lot older than her, like already in grade school, and they all have friends here already, because they’ve all been here for a while. Noah frowns. It’s not her fault her daddy just got sent here. Florida’s too hot anyway; she still doesn’t understand how this ice rink even stays cold!

She shuffles her feet along. The Christmas songs are loud and there are a lot of people here but Daddy promised he’d take her around really fast after he finished working on shooting the puck with Jake. She just has to be super patient-she thinks that’s the thing Mommy always tells her to be-while she waits and then Daddy will play with her and those stupid girls won’t even matter.

(And yes she can use that word; she just can’t tell Mommy.)

The ice feels funny, not like she’s used to back at home in Canada, but before Noah can start to look for her Mommy to ask her, someone crashes into her and they both end up on the ice.

The boy who flew into her isn’t crying so Noah sucks her lip between her teeth and fights back her tears. “Hey!” He whines over to someone and then says something she can’t understand.

“Hey!” She whines and shoves him. “You’re s’pposed to say sorry when when you hit somebody!”

“I know!” His eyes widen. The blue is a pretty blue; it’s like the ice and Noah likes it. “My sister pushed me first though.”

“Oh.” Noah says. Jake is always pushing her around and he never gets in trouble for it. It’s not fair.  “Well she should say sorry to you then.”

The boy nods in agreement, his blond hair flopping everywhere. “Yeah but she’s older so she thinks she doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to.”

Noah scowls. “So does Jake.”

The boy’s face lights up. “Well then we should be friends and we could fight them together!”

Someone else who’s going to help stop Jake from shooting pucks at her? Deal. “Okay.” Noah grins. “I’m Noah.”

He smiles back. “William.” 

-----

Willy’s at practice when he hears about the trade, the one that’s bringing Barrett Evans to the Blackhawks, and he hears it mostly because the boys think it means Jake Evans is going to join their team.

Willy’s playing a couple years up here, and there’s an argument going on during practice about if Jake’s doing the same; if he’ll join their team, how soon he’ll be able to get there if he is. That they’re more excited about the potential of Jake Evans joining this team than any discussion of his dad joining the actual Blackhawks is one of the reasons Willy likes this team so much. They’re all chill; no one cares what his dad does or where he plays. 

He’s just another one of the boys.

In about a week they find out Jake is joining their team, his mom quickly setting up a carpool to the rink with Willy’s, who is more than eager to agree, with the new baby taking up (in Willy’s opinion) too much space and time.

(What’d they need another sister for? Wasn’t two enough?)

Jake comes with two sisters of his own, another baby just like Willy’s sister, and then, even better, a dark haired girl that Willy only remembers from pictures and dreams, but a face that he recognizes instantly.

“Hey.” He taps the glass in front of where she’s sitting at his practice, writing something- probably homework. He’s supposed to do his in the car on the way to practice, Mum says so, but he never does, because he hates doing it, and like really, what’s the point if he’s going to be a famous NHL player anyway? 

Noah looks up, a little annoyed, but then her face breaks out into a smile when she sees it’s him. “William!”

“Willy.” He corrects.

She pulls a face. “Ew, like a wet willy?”

“No,” He laughs. “Like my name!”

“That’s dumb.”

“No it’s not!” It’s what everyone calls him.

Noah’s still frowning at him. “Yes it is, Will.”

“No dumber than the ark you’re named after.” He counters. If she’s going to be like that, he can play too. 

“At least I get cool animals on mine.” Noah huffs and then turns away from him, like she’s mad. 

“No hockey on it though.” Willy says and she turns back to him just to roll her eyes at him. “Not really worth it then, yeah?”

“You’re the worst.” Noah says, but she’s back to facing him and smiling again, showing off a couple missing teeth. “Don’t you do anything else?” He shakes his head, grinning. “That’s gonna change because I’m not playing hockey with you all the time.”

“Well I’m not playing dolls with you all the time.” Will says quickly. He has to do that enough with his sisters; he’s not doing anymore of it.

She rolls her eyes. “Stupid boys.” She mutters and goes back to her work.

“What does that mean?” Willy demands but before he can get an answer, his coach is calling them all back to practice and his break is done. He’s just going to have to bug her at the game tonight. 

(He does bug her at the game that night, but she annoys him right back, and by the second period, they’re laughing and grinning, friends once again).

-----

“Ok, but did you lose Alex or just like, misplace him?” Noah looks around her, searching for a head of blond hair in the crowd of people rushing around them in the mall.

“What’s the difference?” Will hisses, using her shoulder to stand on his toes, head turning as he searches for his brother.

“Like, are you actually asking because of a two language thing or are you just being a jerk because we lost your brother?”

Will glares over at him and drops down flat on his feet again, swearing as he does. “Mum’s doing to kill me.”

“Why?” Alex asks, reappearing suddenly with a soft pretzel in hand, and Noah screams, throwing her arms around him. “What happened?”

“We hate you.” Will says and Noah nods in agreement. “That’s what.”

“What’d I do?” Alex protests.

“Disappeared!” Noah cries. “With no warning.

“I told Will I was going to get a pretzel.” He defends. “He can’t listen and that’s my fault?”

Will reaches out like he’s going to pull his brother into a headlock-or worse, Noah’s not going to risk the two of them going at it like they do in their basement here in public-so she reaches out and grabs his hand, intercepting him before he can even make it to just ruffle his hair, or something. “Come on, Alex.” She teases, even as Will drops his jaw at her for stopping him. “We both know Will hears what he wants to hear.”

Alex laughs, looking as pleased as she knew he would, but Will’s jaw remains dropped. “Screw you” Will says, and because she’s still holding his one hand to keep it from going for his brother, she’s defenseless against the finger he pokes into her most ticklish spot.

“Stop!” She squirms away, or tries to- he won’t let go of her hand. “Will! Let go!”

He stops poking her side, but squeezes her hand and grins. “Nope, you chose this; now you’re stuck with me.”

“Your hand is sticky!” She whines. 

“I was testing tape.” Will grins, swinging their hands widely. “Now yours can be sticky too.”

Noah looks down at their hands, joined and still swinging wherever Will moves them. She hopes that’s all that’s on them but you never know with the DC Metro.

-----

There’s a girl giggling behind him.

Willy turns and she stops, but as soon as he turns back, she’s giggling again and this time, so is her friend.

He tugs at the blazer of his uniform, looking down at his shirt. Is his tie done funny? He’d gotten called out for that last week. But it looks fine, just like everyone else’s did earlier. He pulls out his phone. Hurry up. He sends Noah, watching the dots appear on his screen, like she’s texting back, but then she appears, right in front of him. “Finally.” He grabs her and tugs her away from this school, those girls, even more of them giggling at him.

Willy wipes at his face. Maybe there’s something on it? But nothing comes off on his hand and he frowns harder.

Noah’s biting her lip, like she’s trying not to laugh, and it only works for so long. “She has a crush on you, dummy.”

“Oh.” Willy says blankly, trying to sneak a look back at the first girl. 

“Oh,” Noah parrots. “Honest to god, Will, it’s a good thing you’re pretty.”

“Hey!” He forgets all about the girl, in favor of knocking his shoulders against hers-not hard enough to send her falling into the dirty snow of this New York suburb, but hard enough to make her laugh. “I’m athletic too!”

Noah bursts into laughter, this loud thing that’s bright and contagious and only serves to make Willy join in with her- not that he’s trying hard to stop himself. He’s always laughing when she is. “Sure bud,” She pats his arm. “You tell yourself that.”

-----

“Iced tea.” Noah hands a cup over to Will and then slides down so she’s sitting next to him, dangling her feet in the pool. It’s really too cold to go in, but that hasn’t stopped Will, who’s been swimming all afternoon on and off- and it hasn’t stopped him from pulling her in with him.

“How much sugar?” Will asks demandingly, as she rolls her eyes, like he’s not already taking a sip.

She’d normally answer with a snarky comment, just because he deserves it. But the nostalgia’s setting in; it’s been hitting her at random moments all week, and she’s inclined to just be nice to him, leaning against him as she says, “Come on, like I don’t know how you like your iced tea by now.”

Will sighs dramatically, taking her weight and pressing back against her. “Guess I’m going to have to make my own coffee now too, huh?”

“Two creams, one sugar.” Noah reminds him gently and he laughs, but it sounds kind of hollow, not at all like the honk that usually sends her into fits of giggles right along with him. It’s quiet after he stops, the only sound the pool filter a few feet away and the crickets just starting to chirp, and she hates the silence. In all their years of friendship, they’ve never been quiet people, never had to do an awkward dance while they figured out who they were each time they met. They fell right back into easy friendship, laughing and giggling, dragging each other into their favorite things and places, until one of them was leaving.

It feels different this time. “Are you really leaving?” There’d never been a doubt in her mind when her dad left DC that she’d see Will again. Maybe not for a few months, maybe not for a few years, but the day would come.

“For now.” Will shrugs. “I’m sure we’ll be back.”

“It’s Sweden.” Noah says quietly. She doesn’t have that same feeling this time. Sweden’s their home. Why would they leave? 

“It’s hockey.” Will says, like hockey, Sweden, and home- they’re all interchangeable. 

And maybe they are; hockey- the people Noah meets because of her dad’s team, the friends she’s made, Will, his family- hockey, as a concept, has been more of a home to her than any of the houses she’s known, than these temporary places she embraces every two years or so. 

But she’s been around long enough to know what comes after hockey and it’s the only thing that changes home. The offseason home becomes the main home. Dads start picking up carpool duties and volunteer coaching positions. The spotlight shifts to the kids and their dreams. 

It’s hockey and it’s Sweden and it’s home and whether they’re all different or the same, Noah knows this is the last time she’ll be seeing Will.

-----

Willy has minimal complaints about being a rookie, even if Reemer and Naz think he should have more. 

He’s, like, the definition of living the dream. He’s got a sweet apartment that he shares with one of his best friends. He’s on a dream line with two more of his best friends and they’re absolutely tearing it up. 

His team’s incredible, even if they’re a bunch of assholes sometimes (Willy is too sometimes, he admits), but they’re fun and they’re funny and they like to let loose and have a good time, for as often as they’re really fucking serious about the goal they’re all there for. 

Like today. Practice had been brutal and then there’d been a lift before a video session, but there’s nothing on the schedule for tomorrow so there hadn’t even been a question of if they were going out that night. Suggestions for where had been tossed out the second practice ended.

It’s a good night, things are going well and drinks are flowing (as they should be) and then Matts rolls back to the table, weirdly dejected after coming back from the bar trying to talk up a pretty girl, and he takes his chirps with as much grace as the worst loser Willy’s ever met can, but Willy looks over and he knows that girl. He’d recognize those eyes anywhere, even if her hair is longer and maybe darker? So he gets up, even as Matts calls after him, “Fuck you Willy,” and the rest of the boys laugh.

He leans his weight against Noah, laughing at the look on her face when she realizes it’s him. The annoyance leaves her face pretty quickly and a smile slides right in its place, like she’s waiting for him. “Matts is pretty annoyed you turned him down.” He teases, bypassing hello altogether.

“Yeah well,” She huffs and it’s like she’s trying for annoyed but Willy can see the smile that she’s hiding. “Matts needs to learn that just because he’s a big shot hockey player doesn’t mean every girl is going to drop into bed with him at the sound of his name and a free drink.”

“He’s a lot nicer than that.” Willy defends. “Usually. I didn’t mean it like that.” Because, well, Matts can be an asshole, but it’s not about bringing a girl home.

Noah looks at him skeptically. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Yeah, I’ve never led you astray before .”

She bursts into laughter. “Yeah, okay.” The sarcasm drips from her tone, even through the laughter.

Willy pokes her but it only makes her laugh harder. “Name one time.”

“Sledding in DC, winter skate in New York, ditching school to go to the mall that one time in Westchester, taking the train into-“

He covers her mouth. “I said name one.”

When he removes his hand, Noah’s grinning up at him, and suddenly he realizes what’s different. It’s not her hair (which is darker, he’s sure now that he’s up close), or her smile (still bright and laughing), or her eyes (bright and green and unforgettable). It’s the oh fuck running through his brain, because he’d definitely take her home.

-----

Falling back into friendship with Will is easy; it’s pretending Noah doesn’t want more that’s hard.

It’s always been easy to be friends with Will. She can’t remember a time when they didn’t click, when things felt weird or uncomfortable between them. 

But that was before he started dragging her everywhere around Toronto- to the greatest restaurants she’s ever eaten at, to the Christmas Market, to breakfast on Thursday’s every week he’s in town because he knows that she doesn’t have class until the afternoon. 

The flutter in her stomach is so unfamiliar, something so unassociated with Will, that it takes her a while to place it. And of course he’s doing something so normal, so innocuous, so casual, it shouldn’t even register on her radar. He’s buying coffee, for Christ’s sake!

But he’s remembering that she likes oat milk in her iced coffee, even though she hasn’t really actually told him that; it’s just the order she always gives when they go for breakfast. And he’s ordered her a size up from what she usually gets, without her even asking, just because she’d mentioned being up late last night with homework.

“Here!” Will chirps happily, passing her the cup grinning, and there’s that flutter again, deep in her stomach, and it’s that, that small gesture that means so much, just knowing that he’s looking at her enough to know that she needs this extra large iced coffee with oat milk without even being told, that tells her what this feeling is.

This is a crush.

“Thanks.” She’s gonna tamp this baby down and fast. Why is she even crushing on Will at all? It must be, like, the years they’ve spent apart; she’s been desensitized to him or something. Suddenly, his hair’s all beautiful and his eyes are pretty and shit. Unreal.

“You’re welcome,” Will smiles. “But I didn’t just get this for you just because you look exhausted.”

“Is this a bribe?” She demands.

Will laughs. “Kind of.” She side-eyes him until he caves. “We’re all going out this weekend after the game and the team wants to meet you.”

“Oh.” She says, surprised. “That’s it?”

“You were expecting worse?”

She nods. “Much.”

“Well, nope.” He pops the ‘p.’ “Just gotta come hang out with me.”

“Ugh.” She complains. “Maybe that is worse.”

“I bought you that coffee. I’ll take it right back.” Will threatens.

“Never.” Noah cradles it close to her chest. “Not allowed.”

Will’s watching her, smiling, like he already knows she’s going to say yes, but he says anyway. “So you’ll come?”

“Of course, I’ll come.” It really wasn’t even a question. She would have come even if he hadn’t bribed her with the most amazing coffee she’s ever had to drink, but he sweetened the deal with that, so that’s how she finds herself slipping into the VIP section of a club on a Saturday night, eyes scanning to find him.

It’s not too hard to spot him and she soon finds herself sliding into a group of teammates and significant others, fighting back a laugh at the look on Auston Matthews’ face. “Hi!” She drapes herself over Will’s back, actually laughing at the look on his face and clinging tightly to make him work at pulling her off.

“God, you’re a pain.” He announces, finally tugging her around. 

“Always.” Noah laughs, because this is easy, this is normal. Teasing Will just like always. “It’s what I strive to be, a thorn in your side.”

“You don’t have to try.” She miscalculated this gravely. He’s in the perfect position to dance his fingers into her most ticklish spots. “You just are.”

“Are you going to introduce us, Willy?” Someone asks dryly, one of the guys across from them. “Or just stand there pretending the two of you are in your own little world?”

Will’s cheeks flush-something unusual for him, he’s never embarrassed- but he says, “This is Noah.” Simply; like everyone should know who she is to him just from that alone, and it kind of seems like they do. A bunch of their faces light up and a few of them lean into each other and start whispering together. But she doesn’t get a chance to ask him what he has said about her, what kind of talk he’s been talking, before he’s listing names off of everyone around them, like she’s going to remember all these people.

There’s immediate chatter from almost everyone around her; it’s as if each one of them have been dying to meet her for a different reason. “Willy’s kept pretty tight-lipped about you.” Connor-James-Matt?-She’s already forgotten every name Will’s told her- says, almost too casually. “How long have you guys been seeing each other?”

“Before or after you turned Matts down?” Someone else adds eagerly, even as Auston groans, a little embarrassed.

Will’s fighting back a laugh next to her and she wants to kill him, honestly, she really does. But she settles for the next best thing, plastering her hand over his bicep, playing up a part that she isn’t. “Oh, you know. Fifteen years, on and off, right, babe?”

“Fif-what?” That’s Naz that’s narrowing his eyes at them; she’s pretty sure.

And now Will loses it, at either that, or the faces the rest of his teammates are making, and she pulls her hand away, laughing right with him. “What the fuck?” Tyler says flatly. “You really are just friends.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” Will insists.

“He’s a terrible liar.” Noah says. “You’d know right away. His face gets all-”

“Nope.” Will pulls her away. “Think it’s time for a drink, don’t you?”

“Gets all what?” Someone calls. “All what?” 

She winks over her shoulder; she’ll get back to him later.

Noah doesn’t get around to him until much later, dragged to the bar with Will and then out dancing where they’re joined by a few of his fellow rookies. There might be times when they all go out looking to pick up, but this clearly isn’t one, every one of them out doing each other in the most ridiculous ways (Mitch wins; Mitch wins every time).

She gets back to the table a while later, when she’s dying of thirst and Will’s gone to the bar for refills, but it’s been long enough that she’s kind of forgotten she’s somewhat on the hot seat in this group. No one pounces immediately, but two of them- Morgan and Jake- move away from the team’s argument about a podcast they’ve been listening to and slide closer to her.

“So what’s the tell?” Morgan asks and Noah frowns for a second until she remembers earlier, laughing and declining. “Fine, sure. I admire the loyalty, I guess.” 

“It’s too easy for him to return the favor.” Noah laughs.

“Ok, so you’ve known Willy,” Jake says slowly, like he’s trying to calculate in real time. “For 15 years now?”

Noah nods. “Since we were four. Our dads got traded to the same hockey team and,” She shrugs. “Then again, and again, and again.”

Morgan kind of lights up, like this is the best news he’s heard all day. “What exactly was Willy like as a kid? Like has he always slept this much on any flat surface available? Or is that a weird thing he picked up in Sweden?”

“Always.” She laughs and then shrugs again. “I don’t know, I think he’s a lot like he is now. I don’t-I don’t think much has changed.”

And before she can even say anything else, the man himself is slipping in beside her, carelessly throwing his arm over her shoulders and gluing himself to her side. “Don’t talk to them.” Will demands. “They won’t have anything nice to say about me.”

“Rude.” Jake throws a wrapper at him, and it tangles in his hair but Will just shakes it out.

“Actually they’re asking me about you.” She tells him and he gasps dramatically.

“Don’t talk to them.” He demands again and she laughs.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want you ruining my image.”

“What image, pretty boy?” Morgan drawls, and Noah just laughs as Will retaliates by throwing the straw wrapper back at him but he doesn’t leave her side after that, remaining a comfortable weight pressed against her for the rest of the evening.

She doesn’t hate it. Stupid crush.

-----

“Happy Birthday.” Willy slides the gift across the counter but Noah doesn’t even reach for it, still looking down at the textbook she’s highlighting. She’s new-semester stressed still, the kind of stressed where her hair is constantly up in that bun for a few weeks and the bags never seem to leave her eyes. He can’t wait for another week or so, when she’ll finally crash and sleep for like, two days, a break she’s in desperate need of.

“What is it?” She asks skeptically and like, sure, the wrap job’s a little sketch, but Willy did it himself, no help from Mum or sisters. She should be, like, proud of his job mediocrely done. 

“Was I unclear?” He asks, and she gives him a look, reaching for it with an eye roll. 

“My birthday was last month.” She reminds him. “You sent me flowers.”

Willy knows. The flowers had been a placeholder because he’d wanted to be with her when she opened her real gift, to see her reaction, watch the smile grow over her face when she sees what’s in the box. “That was never your whole gift.” 

She smiles. “It could have been! It was just nice to know you were thinking of me.”

Willy stops just before he says something stupid, like that he’s always thinking of her. He hasn’t stopped thinking about her since they reunited last year and he probably won’t stop thinking about her, even after she finishes up with school and figures out her next step. It seems inevitable that fate will follow its same path they’ve travelled their entire lives, and they’ll end up crossing paths three times a year when Willy travels to whatever city she ends up in, knowing before they even meet for dinner that it’s not enough time, never enough time.

Instead he smiles and nods. “Come on, I’d never miss your birthday. Even if we have to celebrate late.”

Noah laughs. “Fair.” She says, finally reaching for the gift he’d laid out for her. And he knows what she’s going to find first, but that doesn’t change how nice it feels to know he nailed it when she opens the box of Swedish candies he’d brought back, a box of all her favorites. “Ohh!” She immediately pops one of her favorite chocolates into her mouth. “I don’t even care what the other thing is; this is amazing. Thank you!”

Willy laughs, kind of nervously. “At least look at it before you decide to stick it in a corner and never look at it again.”

She’s already pulling it out, peeling back the corners of the wrapping paper, and then looking up at him when she realizes it’s a jewelry box. He smiles encouragingly, feeling like he barely manages to get a full smile up before she’s opening, and then it stretches out fully in relief when she gasps. “Will.” She says finally, looking up at him, mouth opening and closing repeatedly. 

“Do you like it?” He asks hesitantly. He’d bought it on the spot the moment he saw it, the green of the peridot the exact shade of her eyes and her birthstone-or at least, it was, according to his sister. The necklace itself, a delicate chain dropping into a teardrop stone, this easy beauty that he couldn’t help associating with only her.  It’d felt too perfect to pass up. 

“I love it.” She says immediately. “This is-it’s-it’s perfect!” She gets out finally, and Willy breaks out into a smile, watching her lift the chain up to her neck. “Will you-” She breaks off, looking at him expectantly.

“Oh!” Willy gets it now, stands up to step behind her and gently takes the ends of the necklace. “Yeah, of course.” Noah lifts her hair and for a moment all Willy can concentrate on is the whiff of peach he gets suddenly. He fumbles the clasp for a second before he finally gets his shit together. “Why does your shampoo smell so good?”

She laughs, letting her hair tumble down again- another burst of peach to his nose- and turns to face him. “I switched it this summer. It’s nice, isn’t it?”

Nice? Maybe it’s because he spends all his time in a locker room with 23 other dudes, but it’s the best thing he’s ever smelled. He feels weird, knows it’s so not friends to want to pull her into his arms, just so he can hold her close and breathe in that smell, so he just nods.

“Yeah.” Willy says and his eyes are immediately drawn to her smile, to her fingers dragging the teardrop along the chain, and he- he flickers his eyes back up before he can go any lower. “It’s nice.”

-----

“You ready yet?” Will picks up his wallet off his island, where Noah’s been sitting for the last hour trying to tweak her resume one last time before submitting it to another job interview. “I’m going to miss my flight.”

“I’m going to kill you.” She says flatly. She’s only been calling that concern out to him since she walked in the door.

Will grins, throwing his arm around her shoulders and tugging her close into his side. If they weren’t about to spend the entire summer apart, maybe she’d fight it more, afraid that she’s taking too much from him to satiate her more-than-just-a-crush. But Will’s pulling his stupid Sugo hat on his head with the hand that’s not squeezing her close, and he’s about to leave her for four months, fresh off the devastation of the Bruins loss, so she curls in, greedily taking anything she can from him. “Save some cap space,” He hums. “If you did.”

“Oh my god.” She shoves him away. She takes it back. She takes it all back. She feels absolutely nothing for him; he’s the worst human she’s ever met.

Will pulls her back in and his arm stays around her the entire walk down to his car, when he only removes it so they can pack his bags in and then slide in their seats. As soon as he starts it and gets on the road, he reaches over again, just resting his hand on her knee.

“I can’t believe you’re just going to let me drive your car all summer.” Noah says, so she doesn't say something she regrets instead, like I love you, or worse, something about his hands and where else he can put them. 

Will glances at her briefly before turning his attention back to the road and Noah’s already grinning before he responds. “Don’t make me regret this.”

Shifting in her seat to better face him seems like a good idea until she actually does it and it means that his hand just moves further up her leg. She has to stop herself from looking at it, his fingers on the skin of her thigh. “You’ll still have a car when you get back.”

“The same car?”

“Maybe with a dent or two in it.” Noah teases, mostly just to annoy him. It works; he flickers his eyes over toward her in a glare. “I’m kidding.”

“You better be.”

“I’d totally get it fixed.” She continues, smiling when Will laughs. “Pristine condition. You’d never know.”

“Just how I want it.” He pulls up to departures and puts the car into park, so they can both step out; him to fly out and her to switch sides, meeting at the trunk. “Please don’t crash you or my car.” He says softly, pulling her into a hug.

“Please come back soon.” She counters, muttering the words into his chest.

It’s apparently not as quiet as she’d intended. “Wedding season.” He squeezes. “I’ll see you then.”

But that’s not what she meant at all. Noah doesn’t want him back for a weekend or two. She wants dry ink on a contract, locking him in to Toronto.

-----

When the start of the season comes around and Willy’s contract still hasn’t been signed, he can’t say he’s surprised to get a Snapchat from Noah, featuring her, Auston, and Mitch all pouting. 

“Come on.” He frowns at her, when they’re facetiming later that day- well into the night for him, actually. “You know why I’m doing this.” 

She pouts again, even though she’d been smiling only seconds before. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it. Why can’t you be in a standoff with management from here?”

“Why can’t you come work from home from here?” Willy counters and she actually huffs at him, but changes the subject.

When his holdout continues to last though, she does, finally, agree to come work from home from his place in Sweden, at least for a little, and Willy has to physically stop himself from fistpumping in excitement. It’s been too many months of seeing just her pixelated face through facetime, of conversations broken up by timezones, and late night calls that make him want things he knows he can’t have. 

It’s only a few days later but it feels like forever by the time that Noah is throwing herself into Willy’s arms the second that she exits the Stockholm Arlanda airport, and it’s only years of core stability training that don’t send them both flying to the ground. 

“How’s my car?” He teases, because it’s been a lot longer than the four months he promised and he just wants to see her smile, in person, without a lag from their stupid iPhones.

It works. “1 door left.” She chirps easily. “Don’t worry, Auston’s helping me fix it.”

“I’m sure he is.” Willy says darkly, because it was really no secret Matts still thought she was gorgeous, even if Willy was sure he’d never actually do anything about it. Pretty sure. At least 50%.

Noah laughs. “You’re hilarious.” She pats his arm a few times and pulls away to get in the car, but he wants to know about what. About Matts? It’s a legit concern, he feels. Maybe he’ll just fire off a text to Matts, just to be sure. “Will?” Noah’s leaning out of the passenger side. “Are we leaving or are we going to spend my whole trip here at the airport?”

“What if we are?” Willy shoots back, but he makes his way to the driver’s seat.

“If it meant that you were coming home?” Noah gives him a small smile. “I don’t think I’d even be mad.”

Willy gives her a tight smile. “Not yet.”

“Is it-” Noah makes a noise and then continues anyway. “Are you going to come home?”

“I want to.” She knows this; they don’t talk about his contract situation often, but they do, occasionally. “You know that.”

“Yeah.” She says softly. “I just-it’s getting close, yeah?”

Yeah, it was. The deadline was creeping closer and closer, with still no deal. He didn’t...love that, he’d say that for sure. He wanted to be back with the boys, playing; was ready to be back with Noah, for any time she’d give him. “Yeah.” He says, and then switches the topic completely, because he doesn’t want to think about what he’s going to do if this is the only time he gets with her until next fall. “You want to go to dinner with my family tonight?”

Noah’s eyes light up. “Yeah, oh my god!”

Willy laughs and takes the next exit on the highway, instead of driving further into town to go to his own place. Dinners with his parents and sisters is usually a quick cure to any spiraling thoughts about the signing deadline, and having Noah there today is even better. She’s a comforting weight against his side; a laughing presence with his mum as they gang up against him; a friend to his sisters after dinner, as they sit curled together in a corner of the living room whispering secrets and waving him away when he gets too close.

It’s a lot of things Willy doesn’t let himself think about, doesn’t let himself want, because Noah’s never given any hints she wants the same. And she’ll always fit with his family, because she grew up with him, with them, but one day she’ll find another guy who she just seamlessly fits into the side of, whose family she can easily laugh and joke with, because she’s that charming and friendly and nice. How could anyone not love her?

“I remember your sisters begging me to braid their hair at games all the time.” Noah says fondly, once she leaves their circle of secrets to come back to him. “God, I can’t believe how old they all are now.”

“Don’t remind me.” Will says darkly. His youngest sister just announced she has a boyfriend, her first boyfriend; he hates it the most.

Noah cackles, as if she knows what he’s thinking about, which, well, maybe she does, after the last hour. He doesn’t even want to know what they said about him (except he does, he really, really does). “If you promise to be nice to him, maybe she’ll let us go one a double date with them before I leave.”

Willy about blacks out when he hears her mention the word date and he’s pretty sure it shows on his face. “Really?” It’s the only word he can get out. Everything is wonderful; thank God, thank Jesus, thank who-fucking ever. This is the greatest-

Noah laughs. “Well I don’t think she’s going to let you meet him by yourself!” She nudges him with her shoulder. “But we could all go to dinner together!”

He takes it back. Everything is terrible and this is not even close to the greatest day ever.

They end up going for dinner with his sister and her boyfriend anyway-whatever, it’s fine.

“He was more than fine.” Noah protests, when they’re walking back to his place from the restaurant. It’s her last day here and Willy’s trying to soak up every bit of her that he can, so if that means walking to a restaurant in the cold, then so be it. “He was really nice!”

“He was, like, moderately nice, at best.” Willy pulls a face. 

“Don’t be that guy.” She shakes her head at him. “You know what guy I’m talking about.”

“Yeah.” He sighs. 

She nudges him. “You know, if you came back to Toronto with me, you’d never have to see him. Out of sight, out of mind.”

He wants to. He wants to so badly. He just...can’t. “You know I can’t.”

“But I don’t!” Noah says, frustratedly. “I don’t know why you can’t at all. You want to be there and they want you there. I don’t fucking get this!”

“Money. Terms.” He shrugs, sounding a lot more casual than he feels. “My agent’s taking care of things. That’s what he’s here for.”

“Well maybe it’s time to take care of things you want for yourself.” Noah mutters.

“What?” Will asks; he’s sure he heard her, but the bitterness is really unlike her.

“Nothing.” Noah curls into him and Willy wraps his arm around her shoulders without question. “Just cold. Left or right to get home?”

-----

Will’s text comes through in the middle of the afternoon, that they’re just ironing out the fine details and that he’ll be on a redeye that night.

You don’t even need to buy me a Christmas present this year. Noah sends in response. Best gift ever. 

When he doesn’t respond, though, she gets a little concerned. He always sends something back, always, whether it’s just a little emoji or some kind of quip, and that was prime for the taking. Call me at the airport? She follows it up. Do you need a ride when you get here? I still have your car.

Matts is grabbing me, going right to practice and meeting w kyle. Catch up later.

She actually startles at the response. He’s never, never been so short with her. It’s not even that the response itself was rude; it just...didn’t even feel like him. It feels like he’s pushing her away and the only thing she can think of is that he is. That he’d realized how she’d clung to him in Sweden in departures, the way she hadn’t been able to stop herself from running her hand down his back before pulling away, and he’d connected it to the fact that she’s definitely in love with him and was pulling away.

It’s the worst thought she’s had since she realized he was staying in Sweden for a while. She’d drunk a bottle of wine then to cope and she does the same now, but then she’s only more cranky the next morning when she’s still over thinking and she has a headache.

The knock on her door only makes her more annoyed, at least until she opens it and sees Will standing in the hallway. “Hi.” She breathes. She’d pictured him coming back to Toronto so many times, and look, she knows she doesn’t need to impress Will, who has seen her at her best and worst, but not once was she wearing sweats and the biggest sweatshirt that she owns. 

“Hi.” Will grins and she’s about to tell him to come in, but then he’s cupping her cheek and ducking down and it’s like time stops as he kisses her.

Noah can’t quite believe she was ever scared that Will didn’t love her. She doesn’t need him to say it, but he’s the one to pull away first, resting his forehead on hers, and they’re the first words out of his mouth. “I love you.” He kisses her again and god, she could do this forever. “You told me if I want something, to just take care of it myself, and I’m doing it. I don’t want to sit back anymore and let someone else love you. I love you.”

Will brushes his thumb over her cheek and Noah tries to gather a thought, any thought after a kiss that turned her brain to mush. “I don’t know when I started loving you,” She says, smiling when she sees the grin grow across Will’s face. “But I think it was before I even know what love was, and I don’t ever want to stop.”

The next kiss is the worst one yet, the smile still on his face (and hers), but that’s okay, Noah muses. They have time. 

[longforyesterday]

Roberta “Bobby” Brown and Freda Kelly were both Cavern regulars who eventually took on important administrative roles for the Beatles. Bobby was acquainted with Paul McCartney and his then-girlfriend Dot Rhone when he asked her to manage a Beatles fan club in late 1961. Freda Kelly […] had gotten to know the Beatles through frequenting their lunchtime sessions and making a point to talk with them. In early 1962 the Beatles’ new manager Brian Epstein asked her to become his secretary. As part of her job, Freda also helped Bobby with fan club duties. Though their positions were based in the city, both women experienced increased contact with the wider world as a result of these jobs. Brown would embark on her first overseas trip by visiting the Beatles during one of their Hamburg residencies. Kelly, meanwhile, was in contact with businesspeople and Beatles fans from all corners of Britain in her position as Brian’s secretary.

Brown became engaged in 1963 and stepped down from her position just prior to international Beatlemania. As a result, Kelly was soon corresponding with young fans from around the globe. Chronicled later in Beatles Monthly, Kelly described for readers the work involved with running the Beatles Fan Club. She mentions trying to keep abreast of an endless pool of letters and how, especially in the summertime, she would greet a steady flow of visitors. With the advent of Beatlemania, fans started making pilgrimages to their favorite band’s hometown, with a stop at the club’s office accompanying one at the Cavern.

Christine Feldman-Barrett, A Women's History of the Beatles

[austajunk]

I honestly love the new swimsuit sprites (especially Sakura, Junko, and Chihiro), but they did my baby Mikan so so dirty. That’s really the only swimsuit I’m a little upset about. That being said do you have any favorite swimsuit sprites? How to you feel about the komahinanami sprites?

While I’ll admit Mikan’s is a bit bland, I’m more than amused or intrigued that she still keeps her bandages. It’s on the same level as Kyoko keeping her gloves while in a full bikini. Just the little character traits they keep that are nice. ^^

Okay, my favorites that I gotta shout out!

-Hiyoko’s for her new green barrettes that go with it

-Mahiru for the polka dot look

-Sayaka who is wearing that wrap like a Princess

-Chihiro who looks so frickin cute

-Himiko because that’s the closest to what I wore when I was younger. I just really like the dangling shirt look

-Sakura because hot damn girl

-Chiaki because I just always loved her bikini in Chapter 2 and the beauty mark she has on her breasts

-HIROKO HAGAKURE HOLY DAMN THAT LOOK

But honestly I love everyone’s look and I’m so excited to see them all interact and have fun without the murder… unless… 👀

As for the KomaHinaNami trio, I love them. They’re looking beach ready. Lmao to the lack of abs on Hajime and Nagito. I love it because I’m reminded of that post about the KomaHinaNami squad that they give off the vibe of “having a threesome, but in reality, they are all virgin losers”. That’s it. That’s the vibe these beach nerds give off right now.

In short, I love it and I’m so ready to draw so much fanart. <3

[axiomsofice]

Player Report: Kotkaniemi

The latest dramatic twist of the greatest soap opera on ice is the revenge offer sheet the Hurricanes have signed Jesperi Kotkaniemi to. Outside of the one year pact, which skyrockets the cost of Kotkaniemi’s next qualifying offer, Carolina’s GM Waddell releasing a statement identical to what Canadien’s GM Bergevin said upon signing Sebastian Aho 3 years ago, and a signing bonus of $20 (matching Aho’s jersey number), there’s clearly a very personal aspect to the feud, which goes to show why offer sheets are so rare.

Although this article’s purpose is to outline Kotkaniemi’s game, I feel obligated to mention how wrong I thought it was for these franchises to acquire D’Angelo and Mailloux this offseason.

Even prior to this signing, Kotkaniemi’s valuation has been divided, starting with his selection at the 2018 NHL entry draft, where he was a surprise at 3rd overall. Fundamental to this surprise selection are both his size and position, underscored by another pick in the top 5, Barrett Hayton, especially relative to the wingers they supplanted for draft position (Zadina).

The next surprising turn in his young story came when Kotkaniemi made the Canadiens out of camp, sticking with the NHL club for the entirety of his rookie campaign. At this point I’ll introduce my main player comparison (stylistically), Joel Eriksson-Ek. Both centres made the team at a young age, retrospectively too young as each would backslide afterwards. This is due to a strength that they both share, really strong defensive play. Both have the size to win battles, take faceoffs, and check effectively in zone. Both support teammates in transition offensively, but are smart enough to defend well in transition, and always seem to be in the right position. Both are wise beyond their years in that sense, which helped them win over their coaches despite the shortcomings in their game.

Despite their big frames, both needed to add strength. Specifically to Kotkaniemi, filling out his frame will make him all the more effective, noticeably in regards to his skating. He still looks lanky, Bambi-ish if you will, and falls down easily. Adding strength and balance will make him more effective everywhere on the ice, and although he’ll never be the fastest or most agile, coming into his own in this way will give him a much stronger platform to perform from. It’s really a testament to his intelligent defensive play that he’s been effective in spite of his body’s immaturity. It will also allow him to better capitalize on his strengths winning loose pucks through all zones, especially on the forecheck in the offensive zone where he is already strong.

This physical development will greatly improve his offensive output as well. To this point, the results have been underwhelming for a 3rd overall pick, except for his work in the postseason where he’s vastly outperformed his regular season rates. A huge part of his playoff success has come because of his work in netfront battles, where he’s able to win a lot of 50/50 battles despite his slight frame, using his smarts to bang home hugely important goals. Similar to Eriksson-Ek, Kotkaniemi simply does not profile as an offensive dynamo, but I do believe KK has tool that separates him from his Swedish counterpart, a strong shot.

I believe that if he had been given more time in Finland to hone his offensive skills it might have been more beneficial in the long run, however there is still a possibility Jesperi could develop enough strength for his shot to be a viable option from mid range on the power play, in my mind a wrister from his weakside faceoff dot or the bumper position between the hashmarks. It hasn’t all been positive in Kotkaniemi’s time with the Habs so far, and many of the negatives stem from his offensive game, culminating in a demotion to Laval in his sophomore season. Again, huge similarities with Eriksson-Ek in this sense. Both made the NHL too soon because they are smart, responsible, and competitive, and it cost them a lot of offensive confidence.

Seeing as Eriksson-Ek is 3 years Kotkaniemi’s senior, perhaps the recent developments of the former’s career can inform us of what might be on the horizon for the latter. Eriksson-Ek went from scoring 6 goals in 17/18, 7 goals in 18/19, 8 goals in 19/20, to 19 goals in 2021. Although he was clearly his team’s best centre, he added 11 assists, good for 30 points in 56 games, or more simply put, not an offensive star. Kotkaniemi, despite having more to give offensively, will most likely find himself in a similar situation when it comes to offensive production vs overall impact on the game. Whether it’s Suzuki in Montreal, or Aho in Carolina, Kotkaniemi will not be expected to be the top scoring centre for his team next season.

All of these factors, from his play, the pleasant surprises, the disappointments, the playoff scratches, and now finally this offer sheet goes to show it’s been quite a tumultuous beginning or the young Finn. He brings a lot of value that is subtle, which might require more patience than 3rd overall or a vengeful offer sheet might afford him. Regardless, the best is yet to come for Kotkaniemi, and we should expect him to factor in a big way when the games means the most, perhaps even in the Olympics for a best on best Team Finland.

[legendofsim]

“Got everything babe?” Barrett asked the not so small girl. He had lost two years with Marcy and was determined to make up for it by spending as much time with her as Lonnie had allowed. Though her birth wasn’t conventional, a mother and father who had loved each other before conceiving a little one to bring into the family, Barrett had found himself enamored with the child and her mother. They were his entire life.

“Yes daddy,” The girl babbled, reaching up to her father’s face to plant a wet kiss on his cheek. Only having Marcy on the weekends was tough. Barrett had gone into business with Bentley, but that only took up so much of his time. The man was lonely during the day, especially watching everyone he cared for start and build their own families. It was like he was forgotten in the shadows, and that might not have mattered to him two years ago but now having Marcy to love him, Barrett was finally convinced he deserved to be happy. “I stay?”

“No, your mom is coming to pick you up,” Barrett said. “I will see you next weekend. We can go see a movie and eat all the ice cream.” The weekends had always seemed to fly by too quickly, though he was at least happy that despite everything that had happened Lonnie allowed him to see his daughter.

Sure enough, Lonnie had walked up the driveway. 7pm on the dot as she always had on Sundays. She wanted Marcy to sleep early and so Barrett tried to stick to that schedule as much as he could. Though this time, as Lonnie approached the two she a suitcase in her grasp. “I was hoping that maybe we could stay the night with you? Maybe…maybe the week if things go well?” Lonnie asked, watching the man’s eyes sparkle. She’d be lying if she had said she didn’t feel a spark with Barrett, and he had been trying to be a good dad. Marcy absolutely adored him, so was trying to make it work a bad thing?

Barrett took a hesitant step towards Lonnie but stopped. “I love you, does that change things?”

“No, not much. I figure we both deserve to be loved,” Lonnie replied. “I’m here to give this a shot. You, me, and Marcy. It’s not going to be a fairytale but I’m ready to commit to it. So, please let me in. It’s cold out here.”

“Of course, yes,” Barrett replied, opening the door behind him. A door to his home, but also a door to his heart, and a door to the possibility of happiness in their future.

[trishscully]

Purple Princess dress for girls – what’s going on here? 

Each mother sees a little princess in her girl. To see it and others, pick your infant outfit properly. This dress is appropriate for a special occasion, and for a family walk. There are many colors to choose from, but purple somehow stands out. Not only this color suit every skin tone. But it also gives a royal and special vibe. Dressing your little girl in a purple princess dress will bring out their inner princess. 

Highlights 

An excellent dress for a little princess can be either a straightforward ball outfit or an outfit in the style of an acclaimed character. The length of these dresses can differ from most extreme to least, which permits you to pick the correct model for every girl. 

A-Line purple princess dress up

Quite possibly the most stylish style is a straightforward A-line dress. In spite of the way that this cut isn’t extremely unique, improvements as a fitted bodice, ribbon or bows will make the dress really spectacular. The exemplary length of this purple princess dress up – to the lower leg. Notwithstanding, if your girl is six years of age, you can pick a short dress. 

Ball purple princess dress toddler

Another effective choice is ball outfits with a full skirt and a girdle. This dress is appropriate for early shows, family occasions, and other significant occasions. A long purple ball outfit with open shoulders will look particularly great. 

Fluffy girls purple princess dress

The lavish fluffy dress can be assembly hall yet in addition every day. In this outfit, you can take your little princess for a walk, or a gathering with companions. The wonderful girl’s purple princess dress from light layers of breezy texture looks extremely delicate and heartfelt. 

Dress with a high midsection 

Another effective choice this season is a dress with a high midsection. The fitted top, clear waistline and fluffy erupted skirt will look incredible on your infant. The waistline can underscore a wide belt, designed with a blossom or a bow. 

Retro girls purple princess dress

Retro style is presently perhaps the most pursued in current fashion. In any event, for little girls, fashioners make beguiling dresses in a comparable style. Dresses are designed with periphery, hued strips, or dabs. Dresses in retro style are regularly acted in brilliant tones like girls purple princess dress or utilizing such exemplary prints as stripes or polka spots. This dress will consummately complement a cap, bow, or little sack. 

Also Read:- Some Essential Tips To Choose the Best Toddler Shoes

Asymmetrical girls purple princess dress

Dresses of asymmetrical cut merit consideration. An alternate route dress with a long train looks irregular and alluring. To complement this outfit can be lace or a tie of a brilliant tone. 

Real Colors

A couple of the most well-known tones can’t be recognized. Dresses for little girls, just as for grown-up fashionistas are sewn on the whole shades and shadings. Especially well-known pastel tones. Or you can dress your little girl in a purple princess dress and bring out the royal princess in them.

Dresses brightened with pictures of characters from most loved kid’s shows or fantasies are additionally mainstream with children. Such exemplary prints as a blossom, a cell, and polka specks likewise merit consideration. 

Length 

Short 

A purple princess dress length knee-length or smaller than expected is appropriate for regular daily existence and unique events. Particularly kindness looks like such a choice as a short dress with a fluffy skirt. In an American skirt, a little girl will look stylish and appealing. 

Long 

The most extreme length of the dresses is more appropriate for bubbly occasions. In regular daily existence in a particular dress, the infant may feel awkward. Be that as it may, at the grave occasion, it will draw in the consideration of every one of your companions and colleagues. 

Invoices 

Sewing dresses for little princesses can be utilized practically any texture. With the correct methodology, even a particularly straightforward material like fleece will look exceptionally exquisite and alluring. Purple princess dress toddler made of silk, silk, glossy silk, and guipure is normal. For the colder time of year season, you can pick a warmed outfit made of fleece, velvet, or velour. 

Instructions to pick the best purple princess dress 

While picking a princess outfit for a little girl, think about the interests and tastes of your child. The dress should like you, yet additionally the child. Pick a dress of agreeable length to cause the child to feel good on a walk or a merry occasion. 

Picking Shoes 

Unique consideration is given to the way toward choosing shoes for a little girl. Only one out of every odd little girl will actually want to promptly figure out how to stroll on heels, so you can make a concession, and pick stylish shoes with a level sole under the dress. On the off chance that you pick shoes with heels, it ought not to be higher than six centimeters. Dresses for little princesses can be complemented by an assortment of bows, precious stones, or dots. 

Joining a purple princess dress toddler with shoes, get splendid monophonic shoes under a brilliant dress, and the other way around. 

Accessories 

Indeed, even the least difficult dress can be rich in the event that it is complemented with the correct accessories. Under a ball outfit, for instance, you can get long gloves, a perfect silk grasp, and a hair adornment, like a crown, barrette, or blossom. For the colder season, get a warm bolero for the evening dress of the child. 

In the event that you need to pick dresses for your child in which she will obscure Disney-style princesses in the style of kid’s shows, the purple princess dress toddler on the floor will be the ideal alternative for you. Made of slender chiffon, this dress is reasonable for the mid-year season. A somewhat straightforward cut of the dress looks lavish because of the white belt and flower strapless tones. Under this dress fit light shoes on a low heel and a heartfelt hairdo. 

Also Read:- Beautiful Bella Rafaela Dress for a Rustic Flower Girl

Another beautiful look can be comprised of a dress with a white top and a light pink halter kilter skirt. Light artful dance pads and a band with a lavish rose to coordinate with the skirt fit the dress, as well as could be expected. You can also go for a purple princess dress with the same color glittering shoes and accessories that will complete the whole look.

The stylish outfit in retro style will likewise give your child an extraordinary appeal. A white dress in red peas, enriched with red bows, will glance amazing in blend with shoes, dressed over white socks and a bow in her hair. 

As should be obvious, children’s fashion isn’t a long way behind the adults. There are many purple princess dress for adults that can make you look ravishing and match with the look of your little girl. You can dress up your little girl, both in fluffy dresses and in dresses of a more straightforward cut. Complement the picked dress with appropriately chose accessories, and your child will resemble a genuine princess.

[thekingofgear]

hello , I'm looking to get my first delay pedal and my biggest inspiration would be jonny's playing and Graham coxon / Syd Barrett , what would you recommend as a cheap option or maybe a clone ? i love the playing on identikit or present tense for example

If you like Identikit and Present Tense, you’ll want a delay with clarity and tap tempo. Our recommendation is a used Boss DD7 along with a Boss FS-5U footswitch for tap tempo (or any cheap and compatible footswitch). Some other good options are a used Boss DD5 (one of Ed’s favorite pedals, but less options than the DD7), or a used Boss DD20 (even more options than the DD7, but a little harder to find for low prices these days).
 Even though Jonny has never used these pedals, the clarity of a digital delay will work better for Jonny’s more recent style of using delays as counterpoint, compared to a lot of delays which are designed with warm ambience in mind.

Getting something with tap tempo can help improve your sense of rhythm if you’re a beginner. That’s especially true if you learn to tap out different rhythms, as Jonny does on those two songs. Some pedals offer tap tempo presets for different preset rhythms (triplets, dotted-eighths, etc), but those presets aren’t technically necessary – you can access those rhythms simply by tapping out the rhythm itself, as Jonny does with a dotted-quarter on performances of Identikit.

You should probably stop reading now, go find a DD7, and focus on your playing. But if you want to know why we didn’t recommend other delays, read on.


Most boutique and clone “analog” delays use the same chip: the PT2399. They all suffer from the same limitations of relatively short delay times and increased noise as the delay time increases. They do offer great sounds on some settings, but for a beginner it's nothing that the DD7 can't cover with its "analog" and "modulate" modes.

There are many digital pedals that emulate analog and tape delays. At their core, they're all digital delays with different filtering applied to get "vintage" sounds (almost always a combination of highpass and lowpass filtering, which results in a mid-focused delay sound). The filtering on a Strymon Brigadier might sound more "authentic" than the DD7's “analog” mode to some folks, but ultimately they both offer a dark, mid-focused delay sound in contrast to the crisp, clear sound of an unfiltered digital delay - that should be the main takeaway for a beginner.

For what it's worth, Jonny maxes out the Baxandall EQ on his Space Echo, which results in a mid-scooped sound. As such, the flat frequency response of a digital delay is probably closer to Jonny's tape sound than the murky tone of mid-focused "analog" delays. While real tape delays could provide clear, hifi sounds when in good working order, most emulations focus on the warmer and grittier sounds of worn tape and off-kilter reels. The flipside is that, regardless of marketing, they can end up sounding similar to an analog delay. In fact some, like the Keeley MagEcho are just PT2399 delays with slightly different voicing, so they can't really access the range of sounds available from a true tape echo. But that’s not too surprising because the original analog delay, the Electro-Harmonix Deluxe Memory Man (Ed’s “god pedal”), wasn’t envisioned as the ultimate delay people consider it to be today. Rather, it was originally meant to be a more portable, reliable replica of a tape echo, and in falling short it carved out its own niche.


[searchingwardrobes]

I have been doing a lot of writing on my fics this week and hope to have an update of Start of Time ready for tomorrow. In the meantime, here’s a sweet and funny story from Lightport, Massachusetts - the setting of my novel What Hindered Love. Spoilers for my book, if you haven’t read it. What can be cuter than Micah with baby Luke?

Summary: Nobody ever told Micah Barrett drug rehab was easy, but he never thought it would bring him face to face with an identity crisis. Missing Chloe doesn't make things any easier, or the fact that he just became a father. Then again, maybe fatherhood is just what he needs.

Words: About 4k

Rating: T for mentions of drug abuse

Tagging: @snowbellewells​​​ @teamhook​​​ @xhookswenchx​​​ @ekr032-blog-blog​​​ @sherlockianwhovian​​​ @superchocovian​​​ @thislassishooked​​​ @ohmakemeahercules​​​ @kday426​​​ @onceuponaprincessworld​​​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​​​ @nikkiemms​​​ @kmomof4​​​ @hollyethecurious​​​ @bethacaciakay​​​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​​​ @welllpthisishappening​​​ @wellhellotragic​​​ @tiganasummertree​​​ @captainswanapproved​

Micah Barrett slammed the door of his room behind him so loudly it echoed up and down the halls of Hope Haven Rehabilitation center. He paced back and forth in the dorm-like room he had called home for the past seven weeks, muttering obscenities under his breath. Most of them were aimed at Logan, his counselor/mentor for the duration of his stay in rehab. It didn’t take much pacing to cover the distance in his tiny, eleven feet by thirteen feet room that barely had space for a bed, dresser, and desk. At least he didn’t have a roommate.

Micah ran the fingers of both hands through his dark hair in frustration. He thought the basic six week program at Hope Haven had been difficult; if his first counseling session with Logan this afternoon was any indication, the one year program might just kill him. Either that or he would kill Logan. Micah guessed there was a good reason they called it their “intensive” program.

To say Logan had been picking at old wounds today was an understatement. First dredging up his childhood along with the anger and self-doubt those years were filled with. Then he had to go and bring up Rachel and Chloe. Micah pressed the heel of both hands to the back of his closed eyelids, thinking back to Logan’s words.

“You love intensely, Micah, that’s not a bad thing. Your parents, your brother, these two great loves of your life.”

“It’s a problem if you end up losing everyone,” Micah had snapped back.

“Rachel died, Micah, and that was tragic. But who else have you lost? You still have everyone else last time I checked.”

“There’s more than one way to lose someone. I lost my parents to the church. Dad became a workaholic, mom a shell of a person. I lost Josiah to disappointment and failed expectations. The golden boy I could never measure up to.”

Micah had clamped his mouth shut at that, having never intended to speak such feelings aloud. How did Logan manage it? Every damn session.

“And Chloe. What exactly happened the other day?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Micah had muttered.

“Rose said she seemed upset when she left.”

Micah had sighed and suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, “So obviously I’ve lost her. Do I have to give you every detail of the conversation?”

“She didn’t support you staying on here?”

Micah had evaded the question, clenching his mouth tightly until the muscle at his jaw twitched.

Logan had regarded him calmly, “You said in previous sessions you always got high alone. Did you only say that to protect Chloe?”

“No!” Micah practically shouted, “Chloe isn’t that kind of person! Which is exactly why I had to –“

Micah had stopped talking abruptly, realizing that Logan had goaded him on purpose.

“Just because you’re staying on here longer doesn’t mean you have to end things with Chloe,” Logan had told him gently.

“That’s precisely what it means,” Micah had whispered back. Logan had let the silence linger until it began to make Micah uncomfortable. “It’s what’s best for her,” he had finally added, a bit grudgingly.

“What’s best for her? Or what’s easier for you?”

And that’s when Micah had stormed out, rage threatening to overwhelm him. His sessions with Logan had a way of turning him inside out, digging beneath the surface to the hard truths underneath. And what it all boiled down to was what Micah thought he deserved. Or didn’t deserve. It seemed like every time he faced darkness, instead of fighting it, he jumped in with both feet. And dragged everyone he loved right down with him.

Micah sat up, knees bouncing in agitation, heart pounding. His left leg started to throb, and an old, familiar urge surged through him to numb it with pills and feel the euphoria of the high that came with the deadened pain. He already knew from being here for seven weeks that temptation was always greatest when facing emotions he didn’t feel ready to deal with. Why did Logan have to poke the beast today of all days? His parents were visiting today. And most importantly of all, they were bringing Luke with them. His sweet infant son whom Micah hadn’t seen since the day he was brought into this world. Micah had been counting down the days, hours, and minutes to this visit. They would be here in an hour, and Micah was wound tighter than guitar strings.

His guitar! Micah stopped rubbing his sore leg and reached under the bed to pull out his old instrument. The same well loved, battered Gibson he had gotten for his fifteenth birthday. He strummed it a few times and tuned it. Then he bit his lower lip in thought. What should he play? He was still a little rusty after putting the hobby aside for four long years. The first day his father had dropped him off at Hope Haven, he had mostly just strummed a few chord progressions, getting the feel of the instrument in his hands again. After that, he added Bob Dylan’s “Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door,” which was the first song he had ever learned to play. Just last night, he had played Tom Petty’s “Free Fallin’”, which was always great to play hard and sing at the top of your lungs. He strummed a bit, thinking both songs over. He quickly dismissed both. He didn’t want to think about black clouds or bad boys making good girls cry.

He sighed and just started to sing and play the first song that came to mind - a Greenday song. He sang the first line, and realized it was about a guy making a girl cry. Micah shook his head. Ugh, not that one. He changed chords to an Oasis song instead.

Micah stopped strumming that one abruptly too, falling back on the bed, clutching his guitar to his chest. He had two problems. One, every song made him think of Chloe. Two, he suddenly had a startling revelation: he didn’t know for sure what kind of music he liked. How was that possible? He had spent hours since he first picked up a guitar at the age of twelve playing dozens and dozens of songs. And not just songs that were popular at the time, but classic rock, heavy metal, grunge rock, and alternative. All of the stuff that guitar enthusiasts were supposed to like. All of the stuff that spoke to the heart of a rebellious teenager. But that was just it. He knew what guitar nerds liked. He knew what teen rebels liked. But what did Micah Barrett like? He thought about that Smashing Pumpkins song his dad had always complained about. To be honest, Micah knew that he had never liked the song all that much. But the more his father complained about it, the more concerned his mother seemed about the content of the lyrics, the more he wanted to play it.

He sat up suddenly, as a thought occurred to him that he had never considered before. He used to pride himself on being different. Of not allowing the church or what people thought to dictate the person he was, the way Josiah did. But wasn’t he? Was doing the opposite of what everyone wanted you to do really being unique? Or was it just trying to make a point? Josiah toed the line while Micah ran smugly over it. But they were both equally trapped by expectations.

Micah took a few deep, shaky breaths. Micah Barrett didn’t know who he was. But here at Hope Haven, he could find out. And he could start right now. What kind of music do I like . . . ?

The lyrics to U2’s “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” ran through his mind. He chuckled. There was no way, especially after four years of not playing, that he could master the dotted eighth delay of The Edge. If he had his electric and a delay pedal, maybe, but it wasn’t happening today. Still, now he knew he truly liked U2. But who didn’t? A person could no more say they didn’t like U2 than they could say that they didn’t like The Beatles. If you appreciated music at all, it was a given. So was Bob Dylan. And Jimi Hendrix.

Kilian closed his eyes and strummed again. The next song that came to him flowed out of him. It was perfect in every way: the chords familiar, the strum cathartic, and the words . . . Micah could have written the words himself. He had heard it only recently, so he was only able to pick out a few chords. It sounded rough and halting, and he didn’t know all the words, but the meaning of it hit him square in the chest. Lost, not knowing who you were, wondering where God was in everything - it summed up everything he was feeling.

Micah stopped playing abruptly, lifting a shaking hand to touch his cheek that was wet with tears. He had started the song thinking only of himself and his own pain, but now the lyrics reminded him of Chloe. He had never believed in soul mates, in the idea that there was one person out there that you were destined to be with. Until Chloe. Too bad for him.

At least he would always have their son. The one good thing that had come from the mess he had made.

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

Micah was pacing again, but this time in a much bigger space. There were several visitation rooms at Hope Haven, one of the advantages of the place being a former mansion. This one was the family room. It was huge, spanning a large portion of the mansion’s basement. In one corner was a play area filled with toys and books, in another was a kitchenette where patients could share a family meal with their loved ones. There was a sitting area that even included a changing table and a rocking chair, and along the far wall was a big screen TV surrounded by couches for family movie nights. He looked forward to earning more time with his family; he knew this hour would fly by. Hence his nervousness. He wanted to make the most of every second with his son. In short, he wanted this afternoon to be perfect.

“Micah!”

He turned at the gentle exclamation from his mother’s lips. He rushed towards her, bending to accept the kiss Elizabeth placed to his cheek. However, he was far more interested in the tiny baby boy cradled in his mother’s arms. Luke looked up at Micah with bright blue eyes that seemed to soak in the world around him. His tiny hands clenched and unclenched as his arms flailed about. Micah smiled as exuberant coos and gurglings came from Luke’s tiny lips. The thick tufts of hair Luke had been born with had fallen out, but the downy fluff left behind was still the same shade of black as Micah’s own. His cheeks were also a bit chubbier, his eyes far more alert.

“He’s grown so much,” Micah whispered in wonder, offering his son a finger which the baby grasped in a surprisingly tight grip.

“Yes,” his mother agreed, looking down into the baby’s eyes with a tender smile. Luke’s eyes filled with recognition as he focused on his grandmother’s face, and he smiled. Micah’s heart raced at the sight.

“Good to see you again, son,” Tom said as he stepped around his wife. He clapped a hand firmly onto Micah’s shoulder, “You’re looking well.”

“Thank you, father,” Micah replied. Despite the formal words, their smiles communicated the change that had come recently in their relationship. Tenderness and displays of affection would take more time to develop, but they were on their way.

Micah looked back at the child in his mother’s arms, shifting his feet nervously. He bit his lower lip then asked tentatively, “May I hold him?”

“Don’t be so shy!” his mother chuckled as she transferred Luke gently into his eager arms, “You’re the boy’s father!”

Micah took the little squirming bundle into his arms, that same sense of awe overwhelming him that he had first felt in the hospital. “Hey,” he whispered down at his little one. Luke gazed up at him, a tiny furrow forming in the skin between his eyes. Micah swallowed a lump in his throat. His own son didn’t recognize him. But how could he? Micah had only held the child once.

His mother motioned him to the rocking chair and his parents sat on the love seat nearby. They chatted about everyday things as Micah rocked Luke in the chair. He couldn’t stop looking down at his tiny son, barely following the flow of conversation. It didn’t escape his attention, however, that his parents seemed to be avoiding church as a topic. Their faces also seemed slightly strained when he asked about Community Fellowship, and now that he really looked at her, his mother seemed thinner and had dark circles under her eyes. He sighed inwardly, knowing that the tension at church probably involved him. And, unfairly, the baby in his arms.

Said infant started to squirm and scrunch his face up. Micah looked down at Luke with concern. The little one then started to whimper and gum his fist. Micah bounced him slightly in his arms and frowned at Elizabeth.

“What’s wrong with him?”

Elizabeth glanced at her watch, “Oh, he’s probably hungry.” She reached into the diaper bag on the floor beside the loveseat, but then paused. She looked at Micah for a long while and then dropped her hand back to her lap. “You know, I’ll just let you give him his bottle.”

“Me?” Micah squeaked, eyes widening.

“Yes, you,” Elizabeth said with a slightly scolding edge to her voice, “You are his father, and a father has to learn these things.” She turned to Tom, and when she spoke again, Micah could have sworn she sounded a bit mischievous. “Actually, darling, why don’t we give Luke a little one on one time with his Daddy?”

An unspoken conversation passed between Micah’s parents, and then a slow smile spread across Tom’s face, “I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

And just like that, Micah was alone. With a seven week old baby. He had tried to argue with his mother that he had no idea how to fix a bottle, or change a diaper, or really anything related to babies. Couldn’t she stay and tell him what to do? But his mother had simply fixed him with a stern glare, softened by the kiss she placed to his stubbled cheek.

“What’s done is done, sweetheart. Now you have to man up.” Then she had patted his shoulder gently and was gone. Micah wasn’t sure what surprised him more: his mother refusing to come to his aid as she always had in the past, or the fact that she had actually used the expression “man up.”

Luke’s fussing had increased in intensity to the point that he was now waving his arms in the air and wiggling in Micah’s arms. Micah shifted him to the crook of one elbow while he rooted in the diaper bag with his other hand. He pulled out a bottle, but it was empty. Further down in the bag, his hand closed on a plastic container of powder. Bingo! Formula! But now what?

Well, this was the new millennia, after all. There wasn’t anything a person couldn’t learn on the internet. Micah made shushing noises to the fussing baby as he made his way over to the PC set up next to the book shelf. He googled “making a baby’s bottle,” then clicked on the first listing. Micah’s heart sank and his head spun as he started reading about sterilizing the parts of the bottle and only handling things with sterilized tongs. He picked up the empty baby bottle. Had it been sterilized? Surely his mother or Chloe had seen to that. He prayed that was the case as he scrolled farther down. Panic started to seize him as he read about the dangers of bottled water and contaminated tap water. Bloody hell, what kind of water was he supposed to use? Then the site said that using water from a different tap than the baby was used to could give him an upset tummy. Luke’s whimpering turned to loud cries, and Micah felt like joining in. His spirits lifted when he saw an alternate search subject: “feeding your baby on the go.” That was more like it! He clicked on it.

He groaned in frustration when the first few paragraphs were all about breastfeeding in public. That was obviously zero help. He scrolled down until he found a list of tips for bottle feeding. He inwardly cheered at first when the site said that all you had to do was add warm tap water and shake. Until it warned that the water still needed to be boiled until they were four months old because of their weak immune systems. Micah glanced over at the kitchenette on the other side of the room. How long was it going to take to boil water? Luke was full-out wailing now. Micah scanned the article, hoping there was some other way, and then he saw it: taking along a thermos of pre-boiled water. Maybe that’s what Chloe did. He reached down and searched the contents of the diaper bag again. He almost cheered aloud when his hands closed over the cool metal of a thermos. When he pulled it out, there was a piece of paper taped to the side with instructions in Chloe’s handwriting: “Elizabeth, this water is already sterilized and measured. So is the powder. Just put both in his bottle and shake.”

Micah cast a withering glance at his son, “Your grandmother could have shared this bit of information, don’t you think?” Luke’s only response was red-faced screaming.

Micah debated whether to set Luke down in the infant carrier his father had brought in while he made the bottle or to attempt it while juggling the baby. Fear of spilling the precious formula or dropping Luke won out, and Micah buckled the wee lad into the plastic carrier. Luke’s cries were now so powerful, his mouth was opened wide and his eyes were squeezed shut.

“I’ll do this as fast as I can, Luke, I promise,” Micah assured as he unscrewed the lid of the thermos with shaking hands. It was amazing how a baby’s cries could frazzle your nerves to their breaking point. When he finally had the bottle ready, he settled with his son into the rocking chair. Luke’s mouth smacked desperately for the bottle, and once he made contact, he began to suck almost desperately. Micah cooed to him, setting the rocking chair in motion, worried that his frantic eating would give him a tummy ache, but once Luke had a few mouthfuls, his little body shuddered and sighed in contentment as he continued to eat. Micah’s own body sagged in the rocking chair. He felt as if he’d just run five miles uphill.

It took Luke almost half an hour to finish his bottle, a fact that Micah was quite grateful for. He needed the peace and quiet of holding his son and rocking him gently after the screaming cries and frantic bottle preparation. He enjoyed just gazing at him, of running his thumb over his soft downy hair. But it also gave him time to really mull over what raising this child would mean. Conquering his addiction successfully was only the tip of the proverbial iceberg. If simply seeing to his son’s basic needs was this panic-inducing, how in the world was he ever going to do this fatherhood thing right?

Luke finished his bottle, and Micah cradled the child against his chest, patting his diminutive rear end gently. The tiny thing gave a momentous burp, followed by a wet feeling spreading across Micah’s shoulder. He turned to see a sufficient amount of spit up spread across the shoulder of his black Fender t-shirt. Micah groaned as he fished a burp cloth out of the diaper bag to dab at the mess.

“Guess I should have put this on my shoulder before I burped you, huh?” Micah said wryly to his son. Luke looked back at him with wide, wondering eyes as if he wasn’t quite sure what to think of this man. Micah sighed, trying not to take it personally. Chloe said he had begun to smile; he had seen Luke bestow smiles on his grandmother. What Micah wouldn’t give to receive a smile of his own!

Almost without warning, Luke’s face took on a pinched look, and he began to wail again. Micah tried rocking him, rubbing his back as he whispered loving words in his ear, but Luke simply arched his back and wailed louder. Micah stood and began pacing, bouncing Luke gently in his arms. The wails intensified. Micah shifted the baby to a different position, and as he did, a sharp, pungent odor drifted to Micah’s nose.

“Ugh,” he muttered, “smells like someone needs a change.”

Micah carried both Luke and the diaper bag over to the changing table. He gently lowered his son onto the water proof surface, then unsnapped his onesie. Micah recoiled in disgust once the contents of the diaper were revealed, but he soldiered on, lifting a squirming, crying Luke up by the ankles so he could wipe his rear clean. He rolled the offending diaper up into a tight ball and tossed it into the diaper pail, and only then did he realize he had forgotten to grab a clean diaper from the bag at his feet. He rested one hand on Luke’s tummy, and reached down with his other hand. Luke was still exercising his little lungs with enthusiasm until Micah straightened with a fresh diaper in his hand. Micah watched his son’s face instantly clear into a blank, calm expression, followed by a stream of urine shooting higher into the air than Micah would have thought possible for a child so small. The arc of warm liquid sprayed all over the front of Micah’s t-shirt, and even splashed onto his chin. Micah shouted in alarm as he hurried to cover his son. Chest heaving from the antics of the seven week old, Micah looked down into those bright blue eyes that matched his own and shook his head.

“Seriously, Luke? After all I’ve done for you?”

And then Luke smiled. A beaming, gummy smile that absolutely stole Micah’s heart.

“Oh,” Micah chuckled, “you think that was funny?”

Luke kicked his little legs and swung his arms, grinning even wider. Micah thought his cheeks might crack from the force of his own grin as he changed Luke into a dry diaper and onesie. Then he lifted the tiny boy and nuzzled him to his chest, which unfortunately still smelled like baby pee and spit-up. Micah kissed the top of Luke’s little head and felt that lump clog his throat again.

“If you promise to keep smiling like that,” he whispered hoarsely to the baby, “you can keep right on baptizing me.”

When Micah’s parents tiptoed back into the room, Luke had fallen asleep in his arms as he rocked him, singing “Blackbird” to him softly.

Elizabeth bent down to brush her knuckles first against her grandson’s soft cheek and then her son’s scruffy one. “I used to sing that to you when you were little,” she whispered.

Eyes glassy and wet, Micah nodded, “I remember. The Beatles were always your favorite.”

Elizabeth straightened and gave him a smile, “I knew you could do it.” Then she screwed up her nose, “Although . . . what’s that smell?”

And for the second time that day, but only the second time in seven weeks, Micah Barrett laughed.

[lavenderevezzz]

Here's another Demon Slayer OC! I had a lot of fun designing her, especially her hair and color scheme! I was too lazy this time to think up a move-set for her breath style, but I might add to it at a later date when I'm feeling more motivated~! (P.S. The only thing I don't own are the background images, which I found on google!) Yoshino Nanako

Gender: Female

Species: Human

Age: 16

Birthday: 8/16 (Leo)

Height: 160 cm (5'2")

Weight: 52kg (115lbs)

Hair (color and style): Nanako has back blonde, green, and dark green dreadlocks that she puts up into pigtails.

Eyes (color and style): Nanako has bright yellow eyes with diamond shaped pupils.

Body (build, skin, distinguishing features, ect.): Nanako is a somewhat short and curvy girl with dark brown skin and full lips. She has dimples when she smiles.

Clothes: Nanako wears her Demon Hunter uniform without the sleeves and with a black pleated skirt, a short, green haori jacket with dark green grass like patterns towards the bottom, yellow thigh-high socks, white sandals, green sphere-shaped hair barrettes that she wears around her pigtails, and green pearl bracelets around both her wrist and ankles.

Personality: Cheerful and carefree, Nanako tends to not take many things seriously. When it comes to having fun or working hard, she will usually choose the former. While not necessarily lazy, she will try to do things in the easiest and less complicated way possible. It’s not that she’s cowardly or anything, it’s just that she abhors getting into situations she knows she can’t handle with ease.

She tends to act spoiled and childish, used to being treated like a princess and getting what she wants, though she has learned to become more responsible and independent as time goes on. She likes to be dotted on and cared for, feeling happy when people give her attention. While this may make her seem bratty or self-centered, Nanako can act sweet and even helpful given her mood.

When the time calls for it, though, Nanako has shown a penchant for great determination and resilience in order to prove herself and protect those that she cares about.

History: Nanako was born is a well-off family who made their living off of being successful merchants. Nanako lived the life of a rich girl without a care or struggle in the world. However, when she was ten years old, the happy little bubble that she lived in would shatter when her village would come under attack by a demon. Despite the best efforts of their security, Nanako’s mother and father would end up being killed in the attack, leaving her an orphan and with little money to her name.

At the darkest point of her life, Nanako’s savior came in the form of a woman named Narasawa Haruhi, who was an acquaintance of her father as well as a retired Demon Hunter. In exchange for being taken in by her, Nanako would train under Haruhi in the “Breath of the Grass” style and become a Demon Hunter in order to avenge her parents and kill the demon that killed them.

Natural Abilities:

-Nanako has a keen sense of smell.

Swordsmanship:

-Breath style: Breath of Grass (Kusa no kokyū)

Other:

-Her favorite colors are green and yellow.

-Nanako likes to eat more Western styled food. Other than that, she likes to eat a lot of fruit.

-She enjoys gardening, taking walks outside, and nature in general.

-She likes to listen to jazz music, though it isn’t as known in Japan as it is in the West.

-She hates being cold and is scared of snakes.

[hanschenrilow]

me and sam @ernnst's takes on modern au clothing styles...

Melchior — Melchior is a fan of never wearing a shirt so whenever he’s hanging out casually with his friends he doesn’t wear one. But when he has to be human and go in public he literally dresses like an 80s teen movie character… like he wears striped or floral patterned button-ups (and Hawaiian shirts) tucked into shorts. He literally only owns shirts like that. He also does that Teen Boy thing where he wears a jean jacket over like…a gray pullover hoodie with jeans. He also wears Converse like Moritz but they’re new and not like 6 years old. He also wears reading glasses.

Moritz — Moritz wears flannels all the time and he’s one of those guys that wears the same jacket every day because he’s insecure but that’s usually just when he’s in public or around anyone that isn’t his 4 friends. He also has owned the same pair of Converse since like 8th grade and he wears them every. single. day. and they’re busted as hell but they’re his favorite. He owns a bunch of lame early 2000s punk band t-shirts (like Green Day and The Cure) and flannels. and like 2 pairs of jeans. That’s all he rotates and we love him for it.

Hanschen — Hanschen dresses like… business casual. He always wears leather Oxfords (you will never catch him in casual shoes unless he’s fuckin hiking or something) and button-ups (but like. t-shirt ones) and slacks and he also wears sock garters completely earnestly (there’s an inherent horny energy behind wearing garters of any sort which is 80% of why he does it). He also wears sweaters but they’re like nice expensive sweaters so they aren’t cutesy like Ernst’s… he wears normal t-shirts from time to time but again they’re expensive. He also probably always wears an expensive leather watch because that’s his aesthetic. He wears jeans probably like… once a month. He’s generally just clean and well put together though.

Ernst — Ernst dresses like he shops exclusively at Old Navy and The Gap (because he does and his mom buys him all of his clothes)… He wears sweaters over button-up shirts or just sweaters with slacks and he’s fucking cute. He unironically wears sweaters with cats all over them (or any other tacky patterns) because he likes fun prints… his gay style is campy and he rocks it. He likes funky socks as well and he’s always cold so he always wears sweaters even in the summertime (in the winter he also wears sweaters that are way too big for him because he is valid babey). Also he likes wearing Hanschen’s shirts because he is gay 💁 He also wears reading glasses!

Georg — Georg really is the dude who wears the same gray hoodie every single day of his life… and I've said this for like all of them but. Converse… boys be wearing them… he also has his classic geek ass thick glasses of course. He owns a bunch of merch shirts tbh like for video games and (even though he stopped wearing them in 9th grade bc cringe) anime.

Otto — Otto shops exclusively at thrift stores but he makes it work by dressing as tacky as possible and being ironic about it. He wears super weird thrift shop shirts that have brand names that don't exist anymore and slogans for companies from the 30s or just things that don't apply to him at all ('World's Best Grandma'). He has no sense of style but he makes it work by pretending it's just a joke. He has also been known to wear ugly patterned Hawaiian shirts and really brightly colored windbreakers from the 90s.

Wendla — Wendla genuinely just dresses like how she does in DWSA… She likes wearing sundresses and floral prints and cardigans with them cute little boots. She also definitely has a collection of barrettes and bobby pins that she puts in her hair that have flowers or butterflies on them.

Ilse — Ilse's style is art lesbian in which she wears overalls or sweaters/shirts tucked into jeans with boots… she has like a collection of different patterned Doc Martens. BUT she also likes wearing long skirts ("bohemian" I guess you could call it) with tons of jewelry (especially necklaces and rings) and floral patterns. There's no way of knowing which style she'll choose on a certain day tbh.

Anna — Anna wears Lots of jean. Jean skirts...jean shorts...jean jackets. She also owns a ton of quirky slogan t-shirts and also she really likes the color yellow. She wears scrunchies a lot and exclusively wears white Keds that she colored on in 9th grade with every outfit. Anna also wears a lot of those slogan baseball caps… like the ones that say 'bad hair day' and such. She never wears makeup except for like, eyeliner on occasion.

Martha — Martha's style is like...academic. She likes wearing plaid and earthy tones. She also mildly dresses like how she does in DWSA (especially the boots). I can also see her wearing different types of hats tbh. Martha is also really into the 40s style so she would be wearing red lipstick a lot… and if she's wearing pants they're never jeans they're like cigarette pants or dungarees.

Thea — Thea likes...corduroy. She wears dresses on top of sweaters… ballet flats… her hair always in braids or a braid. She doesn't really wear anything shorter than her knees or anything with slogans or brands tbh it's mainly solid colors or prints like polka dots.