#and then to have it smashed just because you ask someone TWICE to stop filming and make a gesture to the camera

[emeritual]

to be honest, it's been two days and I'm still pissed about Joost Klein being disqualified

[dramaqueeenamby]

Waves: Quarantine

A/N: It's been way too long since I've done something for the Wavesverse, and I apologize deeply. I have a few requests related to this series to complete, but I couldn't knock this idea.

Words: 4K

Warnings: None

Tags: @babe-im-bi @notacamelthatsmywife @missyperle @queenoftheworldisdead @tashawar @valkryienymph @letsshamelessqueen-m @hello-therree @mani-lifes @liquorlaughslove @toni9 @koko-michelle @theequeenofcurses @taylortheeshowpony

Waves

Summer placed her phone inside of the mount and made sure that it was secured before she sat back in her bed, getting comfortable with the mass of pillows supporting her back, and smiling tentatively. “Hi, guys.”

Summer!

Someone tell me this isn’t a joke???? Please???

She lives!

Sis, blink twice if you need help.

Summer rolled her eyes. “Ya’ll better stop. I know it’s been a minute since I’ve hopped on live, but it hasn’t been that damn long.”

Summer continued to read the comments where more than a few people pointed out she hadn’t gone live on Instagram in over three months. Her mouth dropped. “Ya’ll lying. It has not been almost six months, has it?” She placed her hand over her mouth when people started dropping dates in the comments. “Okay, I stand corrected. Damn, I’m sorry, guys.”

Don’t be sorry, bestie. Do better!

Damn, ya’ll are so entitled. Celebrities have lives too.

What life? We all been in quarantine.

Rich people quarantine be different from us poor folks, I guess.

“So that’s actually one of the things I wanted to talk about.” Summer cleared her throat. “And I’m going to try really hard to make sure I word what I want to say as clear and as effective as I can, but I know this is still going to end up as a salacious headline. So, it is what it is.”

Oooh, Summer about to drop some tea.

I don’t see her wedding ring, ya’ll…..

I’m scared omg.

Watch this be nothing but a role announcement.

She shrugged and took a deep breath. “Okay, so a few days ago, I did the Buss It challenge, after being harassed by Sanda. And can I just say that filming was a challenge in and of itself? Not necessarily the movements but preparing? I’ve got two kids, twins, who are like the Tasmanian devil. I was literally up at 3 something in the morning trying to record it because my wild children won’t let me be great.” She chuckled. “Kids are something else.”

Summer truly jumped through hoops and was a damn near acrobat trying to figure out when she could not only get herself done up but actually record the challenge. Being the perfectionist that she was didn’t help, but the fact that she couldn’t recall the last time she’d put on makeup and dressed up was a whole other fiasco.

Quarantine definitely brought out her bum side.

“All of that aside, I truly was satisfied and happy with the final product when I posted it. In hindsight, I should have just left it that, but I wake up every day and choose chaos, so I decided to read the comments.” She blew out a breath. “One of the most frequent comments and really, insults, I’ve received my whole career. Primarily, since I was cast as Storm, revolves around how I look. I.e., my weight. I’ve been called fat, obese, out of shape, and so many other things.”

It was 100% true. The minute Marvel announced that she’d been chosen to play Storm, the racists came all out of the woodworks. She was too short, too chubby, too dark, too black. And Summer didn’t care, not a bit.

“Even,—and I’ll tell you guys this, when I first started my SS training, that’s what I call it, SS for Storm Shape, there was a—person who worked for Marvel at the time who came to visit me while I was training.” She smiled thinking back on that day. She could still recall it so clearly. “He basically was pissed because to him, I still looked the same, fat and out of shape.” She adjusted her top and shifted in her bed. “That same day, I deadlifted and bench-pressed over 200lbs” She paused for effect. “What I need for people to stop doing is stop fucking projecting—and I’m going to cuss in this, so if you don’t like it, oh well. I work for Disney, but I’m a grown ass woman, and I’m going to say what I want.”

I am screaming. Summer said we getting alll the tea today!

So, it’s wrong to point out that someone is physically unhealthy now, cool?

The problem is that no one wants to see a fat superhero. It’s not realistic.

^^^^ Tell me you have a small dick without actually telling me you have a small dick.

“I saw Lizzo, whom I adore, post a Tik Tok where she basically said that she workouts to have the body she wants not what ya’ll want, and honestly? Same. She said that her body type is no one’s fucking business, and that’s so true. Ya’ll love to hop on this internet and pick apart people you don’t even know and criticize bodies you don’t even have to live in and move around with. And for what?” She shook her head, slamming her fist into her open palm as she spoke. She was fully invested now. “I know we in quarantine, but damn, pick another hobby cause being a bully is not it, sweetie.”

I really needed to hear this today.

Using Lizzo as a point of reference makes everything you’re saying null and void. Lizzo is clearly overweight and at risk for diabetes, heart disease, just to name a few…..

I been saying this! You can’t look at a person and say they’re unhealthy.

Bodies come in so many forms, and all are beautiful.

“Now, I bring all this up because a lot of people were commenting on my Buss It challenge and pointing out the fact that I’ve gained weight, and guess fucking what? I have, and you know what else?” She leaned over to whisper while covering her mouth with her hands for focused effect. “I don’t care.”

Summer laughed and shook her head. “As others have pointed out as well, yes, we have a gym in our house. I 1000% acknowledge the fact that having the resources that I do as a celebrity and someone who has money puts me in a different category. Hell, my husband has a whole fitness app. I recognize that. If I wanted to keep up with my workouts, emphasis on wanted, I could have. I own up to that, but I just didn’t feel like it, and that’s okay. What’s not okay is to send and leave mean messages calling me all kinds of names.”

Summer had thick skin. She always had. Growing up with her family, who always ensured to feed her self esteem and make sure she knew that she was beautiful, definitely paid off. It was just a combination of quarantine and not having a lot of opportunities to keep herself busy with work that had her feeling some type of way.

“And that’s something else I wanted to bring up.” She blew out another breath and tried to gather her emotions. This was the subject she was almost certain she’d grow teary eyed discussing. “I love my husband to death. My children are everything. Christopher’s family is like my own, but— I haven’t seen my family, like my mom, grandma, brothers, etc in almost a year.” She paused, dwelling on that. Almost an entire year since she’d been able to physically hug and interact with the people who made her who she was. “And I’ve always made it clear how much I fucking love my family. I live in Australia. I can’t do a drive by with grandma so I and my kids can at least see her on the doorstep.” She quieted again, eyes darting off as she quietly cursed. “I’m trying really hard not to cry right now.”

Please don’t cry, bestie.

This is the side of quarantine that people don’t talk about enough.

Has this woman never heard of FaceTime????

I feel her pain. I live in Europe, and my family is in the states. This quarantine has been brutal.

My grandma died from COVID, and I couldn’t even go to the funeral. Summer is bringing up a good point.

“Damn,” Summer chuckled bitterly and wiped at the tears that fell. “I’m okay, I promise. I just bring this up because quarantine has also been very hard for me in that aspect. At certain points, I’ve been down, I’ve been in my head a lot, and I just was not, for the most part, in a space where I felt like I had to keep up my fitness regimen. And that’s okay. I put my mental wellbeing ahead of making sure my body is socially acceptable. Sue me.”

I really appreciate her honesty.

Summer never goes beyond surface level in interviews, so seeing her this vulnerable is really surprising.

Are we supposed to feel bad for her? She’s rich. She can afford whatever help she needed.

These comments are not passing the vibe check.

Ya’ll are all mental health advocates, but when a black woman is opening up about her struggle, it’s discarded?

“And let me make this clear too, I have an amazing husband who is so patient and so kind. He’s one of the best people I can go to when my anxiety hits, so I don’t want this to come across as me complaining that I’ve been alone. I have him and our children. I just miss the rest of my family. That’s all.” She dried her eyes and started to read the comments, unsurprised by the mixed reaction. She expected as such and was unaffected. At least until she saw one comment.

@ChrisEvans: ❤️❤️❤️

“Evans!” Summer wasn’t expecting to see his name pop up. It’d been such a task convincing him to join IG, let alone teaching him how to operate it. “Let’s go live.”

Not my husband and wife in my head about to go live!!!!

Imagine being able to call Chris Evans your best friend

I still say they smashed idc

It’s Christopher Jamal Evans hopping on this live for me.

^^^ I’m so sick of y’all with that shit.

“Let me try to add him,” Summer spoke to herself, scrolling through the comments to find his so she could request him. “Alright, I requested him. Let’s see if he answers.”

She wondered if she should have sent him a text asking if he was available when he appeared on her screen, effectively splitting it with her on the top and him on the bottom.

“Punk.”

“Kid.”

Summer smiled and greeted, “Hi, best friend.”

He chuckled. “How you doing, Summer?”

“Clearly not as good as the people watching,” she chimed. Summer saw nothing but heart eyes and hearts in the comments. “These people really love you. You truly are a manipulative bastard. He’s an asshole, guys.”

“Don’t be jealous, Summer. It’s so unbecoming of you.”

“You can go to hell.”

“Language,” he playfully reprimanded. “Where are the kids?”

“At preschool. Things are finally starting to open back up over here. Thank God.” She clasped her hands together. “Y’all, please wear masks. Don’t be Karen’s.”

Chris laughed, grabbing his chest. “We’re getting there, Summer.”

“The lies you tell,” she countered. “Don’t A Starting Point, me. Ya’ll are far from getting there, and I’m tired of it. I wanna see my family.”

He sighed. “I know, but how are you feeling today?”

“I got rid of the kids, so that’s definitely a weight lifted,” she answered honestly, laughing when she saw judgmental comments in the chat. “Listen, if you’re a parent, you know where I’m coming from. You love your kids, but my god, sometimes you just need some space.”

“As soon as this all blows over, I told you to send em’ by me for a couple of weeks.”

“Best friend, I already purchased their tickets.” He laughed. “As soon as I get the green light, they are all yours. Feel free to keep them.”

“You guys see how she is?” He pointed to Summer, leaning and squinting to read what was being said. “I do love kids, especially the twins, they’re amazing.”

“He is really really great with them, guys,” Summer added. “One thing about Evans, he’s patient as hell and really, just a big kid. Why do you think him and Christopher get along so well? 40 going on 4.”

“I resent that.”

“Is it a lie though?”

He hesitated. “No.” They both laughed.

I’m loving the dynamic between these two so much.

Is it just me or are they flirting with each other…..

Ain’t nothing inappropriate about this conversation. Ya’ll are reaching…

Ya’ll remember that blind item that came out years ago alleging Chris (Evans) was the biological father of the twins? Hmm…..

^^^^^This kind of bullshit is the reason we’re in a global pandemic.

As always, Summer and Evans ignored any foolery that was being dropped in the comments when she caught a comment that didn’t contain some ridiculous rumor.

“Yes, it is true that Evans and Christopher weren’t allowed to do press together anymore. Ya’ll, they literally could not stay serious for more than a minute. I felt so bad for the poor interviewers.”

“Hey, we were not that bad,” Evans protested, his Boston accent more prominent.

She gasped. “You guys were terrible, Evans, and you know it. I was so mad when they put me with ya’ll those few times. I could barely hear the interviewers over your laughing and stupid commentary that literally no one asked for.”

“We did not.”

“There’s deadass video proof, Evans.”

“Fake news.”

She opened her mouth but caught herself. “I was about to say something.”

He laughed and asked, “Do you remember how we all got drunk before the Infinity War premiere?”

“No, ya’ll got drunk. I was big and pregnant, remember?”

“No,” he dismissed. “You were drinking with us.”

“Evans, how was I drinking when I was pregnant?” She challenged and reminded. “I got drunk with ya’ll for the Endgame premiere, not Infinity War.”

“That’s right,” he remembered and chuckled. “You think we’ll get in trouble for saying this?”

She shrugged with one shoulder. “You’re dead, Christopher never gets in trouble for anything, and I do what I want. I think we’re good.”

Kevin Feige watching this live right now like 🥴🥴🥴🥴

I never realized how arrogant she is……

LMAO. Not the whole cast showing up drunk to the biggest premiere of their lives.

Chris Evans is too damn fine to be approaching 40 and still single.

Their friendship is so goals omg

@ChrisHemsworth: Snitches

Summer’s jaw dropped as she caught the last comment, swiping up to click the name and make sure that she was reading correctly. “Christopher, what the hell are you doing on my live?”

Evans brows furrowed. “Hemmy is here? Shouldn’t he be working?”

“That’s what I want to know,” Summer supplied. “And how long have you been watching?”

@ChrisHemsworth: Long enough.

She smiled nervously and looked off to the side. “I feel weird now. I don’t like when he watches my lives.”

“Aren’t you guys married?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be shutting the fuck up?”

Evans lifted his hands in a defensive manner. “Touchy subject, I see.” They shared another laugh as he cleared his throat. “Why don’t you add him now? I’m supposed to be helping Scott cook.”

“My favorite Evans,” she gushed and furrowed her brows. “You, cooking? Since when?”

“Get out of here.” He waved her off and reminded. “I’m not the one who constantly causes near fires when in the kitchen.”

“So, you really just putting all my business out there like that?”

“Summer, it’s not secret to anyone that you can’t cook for shit.”

“Wow, it really be your own best friends.”

He chuckled. “Love you, kid.”

“Love you too, punk,” she blew a kiss. “I’ll text ya’ later.”

“Alright.” He smiled for the camera. “Thanks for having me everyone.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she said jokingly. Evans and Summer said goodbye one last time before he left the live. She blew out a breath and ran her hand through her hair. “Baby, comment something so I can add you. It’s too many comments to wade through.”

Summer adjusted her phone and checked the time on the clock on the wall. It’d been a while since the kids were away at school, and she didn’t want to get so caught up that she was late picking them up.

@ChrisHemsworth: I can’t. I’m too drunk.

Summer released a mixture of a laugh and a snort reading his comment. “You are so damn petty.” She clicked his name and adjusted her outfit while waiting for him to answer. She almost cursed when it seemed like he wasn’t going to join, only for her to smile when his face appeared on her screen.

“Hi,” she greeted in a soft voice with a small smile.

“Hello, Sandcastle.”

“Did you just—I swear to god, it’s always something with you.” Summer rubbed her temples and shook her head. Christopher smiled in response. “Why aren’t you working?”

“I am.”

“You are?”

“Yes.”

“If you’re working, how are you talking to me?” She asked, sassily.

“Umm, a little thing called multitasking, ever heard of it?”

“Wow. You are an asshole.”

“That’s mean.”

“You’re mean.”

“Christopher, you are literally a child.”

“Does a child have muscles like this?” He flexed, and Summer stilled. Christopher stayed in ridiculous shape, but this was another level. He’d never been this massive, and she wasn’t too proud to admit that. Just not aloud.

She faked a yawn. “Am I supposed to be impressed?”

They really just be roasting each other all the time, and I’m here for it.

Summer must be legally blind because this man is stupid fine tf

It’s gotta be steroids. That’s not natural.

^^^^^He’s the god of thunder.

Summer rolled her eyes at the typical nature of the comments. These were the reasons she limited her time on social media and especially stayed away from reading the comments. Her attention was redirected to the top of her phone. It was a text from Christopher asking her to call him.

“But we’re—oh, I get it.” She realized he wanted to talk to her, not her and her tens of millions of followers. “Alright, guys, I’m gonna get off here so I can talk to my husband, alone.”

“She just doesn’t want to share me with you all, that’s all.”

“Don’t even start, Christopher,” she lectured while he laughed and got serious, for a minute tops.

“Hope you all are taking care and staying safe,” he spoke honestly. “And we’ll talk to you soon.”

Summer waved and smile. “Bye, guys. Remember to be kind.” Summer offered a final smile before ending the live. Closing up the app, she moved to open FaceTime and called up Christopher. He answered almost immediately. “You know I hate when you watch my Lives. Now, how much did you see?”

“Enough to know you’re coming to see me tonight.”

She laughed aloud. “Funny.”

“I’m serious, Summer.” Focusing on him, she realized that there was no humor in his voice nor his expression. Summer also noticed that he didn’t have the Thor wig on yet, which was probably why he was able to go live with her. He was waiting to get into hair and makeup. “Leave the kids with Liam. It’s not like he’s doing anything.”

“Christopher!”

“What? Is he not a professional unemployed bastard.”

Summer’s smile remained as she shook her head. “You are so mean.”

“I’ll handle the flight arrangements. You, my beautiful wife, just make sure you get on the jet so I can handle you.”

“Christopher, you’re working. People with everyday jobs don’t just up and show up to their spouses workplace because they miss them or need a break from the kids. That’s how folks get fired.”

Christopher started to move around, walking somewhere, she realized. “What are you doing?”

“Hey, Tike.”

Summer’s eyes widened slightly. “Christoper!”

“Sup, man?” Taika asked casually, as Summer laughed again. Taika Waititi was such a character.

“You mind if Summer comes up for a few days?”

“Sure, man,” he replied almost right away. “Bring the kids and chickens too.”

“I am not bringing those damn chickens,” she immediately protested.

Christopher made a sound. “Ha, so you are coming!”

“I didn’t say that.”

Taika joined Christopher so that he was in camera. “Hey, Summer, why don’t you come on join? You can have a cameo. Chickens, too.”

She rubbed her temples. Taika’s and Chris’s friendship would never not make sense to her. They were cut from the same cloth. “One, hey. Two, I was already in Ragnarok. I’m good on the cameos. Three, what is with ya’ll and those creepy looking chickens?”

“Whoa, creepy? What did the chickens ever do?”

“Exist,” Summer answered dryly. She still hadn’t forgiven Evans and Christopher for convincing her to let the kids keep those damn things. Her home was becoming more and more of a farm with each animal that joined the household.

“Tough crowd, that one, ehh?”

“Always,” Christopher agreed.

“I can hear you both,” she reminded and groaned loudly. Summer would love to spend a few days away from the kids. Chris would be working, yes, but she’d at least get some time for herself. Even better, alone adult time with her husband. That had also been a bit tricky during quarantine because of her rambunctious twins. Still, she disliked using her status as a celebrity to gain things, and this would definitely be a case of using status for pull. “I don’t know….”

Deep in her thoughts, she hadn’t realized that Chris had walked away and returned to wherever he was prior to finding Taika, most likely his trailer.

“What if you only stayed a night?” Chris tried to bargain. “The flight is only an hour and a half. That will give you more than enough time to come here, let me fix you dinner, run you a nice bath, maybe get in the good ole’ horizontal tango—”

“You know I hate when you call it that,” she reminded quietly, admitting. “That does sound nice, though.”

“Or, I can come to you—“

“Absolutely not. Christopher, you’re already doing so much back and forth as it is.” One of the good things to come out of quarantine, to Summer at least, was that it forced many people to take a much needed break. Her husband was one of those people. Christopher had been working nonstop since she met him. Project after project, film after film, many of them Marvel films, which put a whole other layer of difficulty what with the strenuous physical requirements. Even now as he shot Thor 4, he was in the best shape he’d ever been, muscles nearly tearing the cotton of his clothes. He looked amazing, but it was what they couldn’t see that she was starting to grow a little concerned over. Christopher wasn’t as young as he once was. He had to slow down, eventually.

Summer realized this would be a perfect chance to have a conversation about just that with him, which all but led her to her final decision.

“Alright,” she conceded, finger up as she made her demands. “Three days, and I stay at the house while you shoot. We may be returning to normal, but we’re still in a pandemic. I won’t go around anyone except you.”

“So I get you all to myself? Hardly consider that a stipulation.”

“And…we talk.”

“After the horizontal tango—“

“I swear to God, if you don’t stop calling it that—“

“What was that, sweetheart? I wasn’t listening.” She saw that he had paused the screen, causing Summer to remember that she hadn’t even consulted with the babysitter. “Making flight arrangements for you.”

“Shit, let me text Liam and make sure he’s available.”

“He gets reception in the box?”

“Christopher! For the last time, your brother is not living in a box.”

“Do you know that for certain?”

“Goodbye, Christopher,” she prepared to end the call before smiling softly. “I love you, Christopher, and thank you.”

He winked. “I’ll always do anything for you, Summer. Anything.” A beat. “Don’t forget to leave the clothes. You won’t need them.”

“Christopher!”

[maxwell-grant]

May I please ask where you set the boundaries when constructing a crossover? (i.e. How far are you willing to bend characterisation of the setting a character's adventures take place in and of the individual characters themselves to make this crossover work? How many settings are you actually prepared to smush together before you feel you're losing more than you gain in this mix? and so forth).

I could be off the mark here, but this question sounds like you yourself got a very big idea planned but you are unsure of how far you can, or want to, push the concept. Two words of advice upfront: 1: Stop overthinking it, and 2: Run your ideas by people whose judgment you know and trust. I run some of my biggest and stupidest ideas by friends of mine and they help me make them less stupid or at least stupider but in a better way.

I mentioned in my post about potential Shadow crossovers that "boundaries" are not the priority to fret over so much as having a good working knowledge of the characters. And part of that is because a crossover, by design, already constitutes the breaking of boundaries. That's by default what a crossover does. You don't wanna test or break boundaries, then you picked the wrong kind of story.

A crossover is still a story like any other. Two characters meeting is not a story, it's a premise. You don't start a story by defining where it can't go, before you've even decided where you want to take it. Some boundaries are important, others aren't. Some boundaries are hard-coded and unbreakable, and others HAVE to be broken for the story to work, and the process of deciding which is which is easier when you have a clearer idea of what are the characters and what is the story you want to tell, and what you can and can't do with either. You gotta understand the properties you're working with, or at least, understand WHY you want to work with them and make this crossover happen in the first place.

For example, you could, very easily, write a crossover between The Shadow and The Spider, just by going through the motions. They are urban vigilantes with fairly similar designs who live in the same time period and fight crime with their supporting casts. I'm sure most writers offered the job wouldn't think twice of putting them together. But as someone who's read their stories quite extensively and who likes and obsesses over both characters, I would not cross over the two, because their stories and characters are fundamentally incompatible with each other in a more "serious" narrative, and you could not merge the two without seriously fraying one or the other.

It's a story that doesn't work, with characters that are not supposed to function together or in each other's narrative real estate, even with a character as malleable as The Shadow. This doesn't mean that it's impossible to write a good Shadow and Spider crossover, but to me, personally, these two are hard-line incompatible. That is, if it's a crossover based specifically on these two, because that changes if said crossover expands to more characters, as I'll get into.

Regarding the question:

How far are you willing to bend characterisation of the setting a character's adventures take place in and of the individual characters themselves to make this crossover work?

By default, any crossover is already going to have to create new settings from scratch based on relevant bits and pieces from the properties in question, so you do get more leeway for bending it.

But regarding characters, it's a question that cannot have a unified answer, because it's even more so dependant on a case-by-case basis. You could argue "only as much as necessary for the story to work", sure, but that's not really a good answer, because a story can do anything it's author wants to, and sometimes the story is not good to begin with, or the characters are just not made for being in the same narrative or even partaking in a crossover to begin with.

No amount of justifications for a story or characterization can excuse an unsatisfying result. Joe Yabuki and Guts are two of my favorite manga protagonists, but there would be no point to even attempting to put them together in the same story, because you'd have to twist either their narratives or their characters past the point of recognizability, which defeats the purpose of making a crossover to begin with.

Like, yeah, we've all heard the argument that Zack Snyder's Superman makes sense in the context of his movies, doing his own thing. Sure. But there's a reason any discussion of that character in the context of Superman in general comes prefaced with "Zack Snyder's" first, and why mainstream audiences who earnestly looked forward to Batman V Superman walked away feeling cheated, because, to borrow RLM terms here, they got "MurderMan vs Captain Hypocrite", and you can't even tell which is which in that description. You gotta give audiences at least a bit of what you promised them.

How many settings are you actually prepared to smush together before you feel you're losing more than you gain in this mix?

This one actually DOES depend on the story, because most stories that aren't just short narratives require multiple settings for it's scenes. Chances are your narrative will already be combining multiple settings, because setting is a word that can refer to "Korea during the Joseon dynasty", "spaceship traveling through lost nebulas" and "the McDonalds parking lot", as if they are the same thing. And in a way, when you look at a narrative's bones, they basically are.

To an extent, I think opening yourself up for a massive crossover of multiple properties of different characters and settings can, indeed, be a better choice than just going off purely by X meets Y. You start off by making it very clear to the audience that the boundaries are thin and you will be breaking them, and you use said framework to instead tell a myriad of stories, big and small. Stories that you couldn't really tell if you stuck to an existing framework or defined strongly the boundaries you can't cross. I'm gonna use Smash Bros as an example:

Smash Bros is arguably the biggest "official" crossover of all time, and it doesn't really have a "story" other than the basic framework that the series was built on, that these were representations of Nintendo icons dueling it out, and the few details that used to define this in the older days (like the characters being trophies and copies, and not the real deal) have been basically pushed aside. The most story you get in Smash nowadays is in the form of what the trailers showThe "point" of Smash was never really to tell a big, dramatic story with these characters. And maybe you really can't tell this kind of story, or a good story, with this many characters to juggle.

But they tried it once.

I'm sure most of you who do remember Brawl, as anything other than the blistering shame of the franchise that it's treated as these days, remember it mainly because of Subspace Emissary, which was this big, dramatic storyline where the end of the world was at stake and all the characters had to pull their weight to fight it. Subspace didn't have dialogue, it didn't have much story other than characters going from scene to scene while fighting, several of the characters either got nothing to do or were written poorly (mostly Wario), and none of this mattered at all, because Subspace, I'd argue, was the one and only time Smash Bros ever really recaptured that childhood feeling of smashing toys together that the franchise was built on.

Because if you remember being a kid smashing toys together, you remember not just doing it because you wanted Max Steel to kick Cobra Commander's butt. No, you did it because you wanted to tell a story where Max Steel got trapped in a rapidly filling water tank along with He-Man's Battle Cat while Cobra Commander kidnapped Max's girlfriend April O'Neil and bombed the city, and Max Steel had to talk Battle Cat into not eating him so they could together save the city and April from evil, and so they reconciled their differences and saved the day. Those things mattered to you. They were the stories you could tell with the resources you had in hand, sagas you did for the sheer fun of it, regardless of whether they were "good", you probably didn't even think of that. Why would you? You had bigger things to do.

And that's what Subspace did. It was big and dramatic and the world was at stake and all these heroes were coming together. Ness sacrificing himself to Wario so Lucas could have a chance to run away. Diddy Kong dragging along seasoned Star Fox pilots to rescue his buddy. Samus and Pikachu forming a bond. Peach stopping a deadly battle just by offering tea. ROB's story arc culminating in actual genocide, hell, ROB having a story arc to begin with. To a lot of people who played Brawl as one of their first games, this would have been their "introduction" to a lot of these characters in any sort of narrative, and to characters like ROB or Ice Climbers, this would have been the only chance they would ever get to be part of a great big dramatic narrative. Hell, Pit sure looked like he was on the same boat at the time, until Smash brought the Kid Icarus franchise back from death, and now Smash is where characters or properties get to stay relevant or at least on life support (Captain Falcon), or make glorious comebacks (King K.Rool). Brawl was what destroyed the idea of there being boundaries as to who could get in Smash or what kind of story could be told within it.

And people don't seem to recall this nowadays, but Brawl was when Smash exploded in fan content, specifically inspired by Subspace. This was the period of the Machinima craze and the fan mods galore and fan remixes and fan art and fan headcanons and fan films, and suddenly it hit people that, just because the games couldn't accomodate the stories they could tell with the premise, didn't mean that they couldn't start telling them on their own. We even got the formerly longest piece of English fiction off of it. The devotion Melee inspired in competitive players, Brawl did for artists and creators who got their start off in Smash fan content.

And because of it, suddenly a lot more people started writing stories with ROB and Ice Climbers and Pit and Captain Falcon and so on than there would have ever been if it wasn't for Brawl and Subspace. Smash gave ROB a story the character likely would have never gotten otherwise. And if you don't grasp what I'm getting at because you still think that fan content is a long way from being "official" or at least respectable, I don't know what you're doing following someone who rants about pulp fiction all day.

The point I want to get across is, boundaries in a crossover are important, yes, they exist for a good reason, but the boundaries should be defined by the story and characters and whatnot, not the other way around. Boundaries in fiction exist to be crossed or tested, they exist to tell you where you can't go so you can try to do so anyway and either fly high or crash.

Sometimes, bending or twisting characters and settings can be both a grave sin, as well as the thing that allows them to survive. Sometimes there are rules that seem unbreakable until someone breaks them without trying. And sometimes, going big and stupid and carefree over-the-top is either the worst, or the best outcome. It's fiction, taking risks and having fun is part of it.

So I'm afraid I thankfully cannot give your question a universal answer.

[ellewritesathing]

Infernal    VIII

Summary: In your sleepy little town of Greendale, nothing ever slept for long. And ever since October, everything felt like it was waking up. Everything except for you, that is. One teensy trip to Hell (and an infuriatingly cute guy) later and suddenly you felt wide awake.

Word-count: 3.4k+

Masterlist Prev. | Part 8

Ever since you were eleven years old, you’d been going to the Paramount once a week with Theo to share a large popcorn with m&ms poured over the top, two large sodas, and the biggest bag of Sour Patch Kids that money from dog walking, tutoring, and scrounging between the couch cushions could buy. The dark was a blanket of safety and anonymity for an hour or two, and you loved it more than anything. It was two hours of you, Theo, and whatever rerun was showing that weekend. One of only two movie theatres in Greendale, The Paramount stood as a testament to friendship and the enduring power of bad cinema. 

Sharing the Paramount and all its memories with Caliban was nerve-wracking. 

If he noticed your non-stop fidgeting, he didn’t say anything. He was perfectly composed as he watched stressed out parents corral their screaming children - shoulders relaxed, mouth upturned, and hand easily laced through yours. 

“You know, I never cared much for children,” he said. He suppressed a laugh when one of the kids threw pieces of popcorn at their dad. “But I’m starting to think they may not be such loathsome little creatures after all. Given a little direction, they could surpass any of Hell’s torturers.” 

You would have laughed at his joke if you’d been listening, but you were too busy watching the specials board light up his face red, orange, and yellow that caught on the edges of his hair. “Is this your first date?” you asked. 

Caliban raised an eyebrow as he turned to you and you stammered out an explanation. Impulse control had never been one of your strong suits, and it had been on the decline lately. Putting you out of your misery with a sly smile, he said, “Yes.” 

“Wait-” you tugged on his hand slightly as the two of you moved forward in the line “-does that mean I’m your first kiss?” 

Caliban laughed and ran a hand through his hair. “My first kiss was with a succubus.” 

You weren’t sure what kind of answer you were expecting, but that particular one caught you off guard. “Oh. That’s pretty cool. Do you guys keep in touch?” 

“Are you in touch with your first kiss?” Caliban asked, throwing another smile at you as the two of you walked over the counter. He let you order and pay in peace, but he asked again when you were flavoring the popcorn, clearly amused by your awkwardness. 

You were in the middle of explaining that your first kiss had been on a dare at one of the worst, least supervised birthday parties you’d ever been to when someone bumped into and spilled your popcorn all over the floor. They kept walking. 

They only cleared a few feet before the Darkness lashed out and you yelled at them. “Hey! Are you going to apologize?” 

You recognized them once they turned around. He was one of the kids from the lacrosse team who’d bullied Theo back in freshman year. With possibly the fakest smile you’d seen, Charlie said, “Chill. It was an accident.” 

“Apologize.” 

“Are you kidding me?” 

“Say you’re sorry.”

His body relaxed and his eyes took on a familiar glassy, hollow quality as he mumbled an apology. You smiled.

“Good.” You took a step forward to close the distance between you. “Now give me your wallet.” He did so without a word, the charm overwhelming any reservations he may have had. He faltered slightly when you took out most of the cash, but you told him to be quiet. With a smile, you handed his wallet back to him. “Enjoy your movie.” 

Charlie blinked twice, slowly, but then he nodded. “You too,” he said uncertainly. He stumbled down the hall and looked at you again as he rounded a corner, completely dumbstruck. 

You waved at him, turning back to Caliban with a smile. “Ready to watch the movie?”

The easiness from earlier was gone; Caliban’s jaw was tense and his eyes were narrowed. He didn’t move from where he leaned against the wall. “What was that?” 

You shrugged. “I wanted him to apologize.”

“Are you sure that’s all you wanted?” he asked, pushing himself off the wall. His movements were easy, but his words were strained.

“Yes,” you lied, unclenching your fists. When you stole a glance at your palms, they were coated in a thin layer of darkness, smudged around the area where you’d dug your nails in to keep from knocking the false smile off Charlie’s face.

---

“Wait, so you’re like … Hannah Montana if she was a teenage witch and he’s like- what is he? Your Jesse?” 

Out of all the reactions you’d imagined after telling your friends that the mother you’d spent your whole life looking for turned out to be a literal demon, a Hannah Montana comparison hadn’t even made the top ten. 

“Harvey, don’t you think you’re being a little-” 

To be fair, they’d handled the news about Lilith better than expected. Harvey was confused, Theo was happy you found your mom even if she’d tried to kill them all before, Sabrina helped smooth things over, and Roz admitted to having her suspicions for a while. 

“What? I’m just trying to understand why the guy that tried to rule Hell and enslave us all is sitting on my couch.” 

It was only when things came to Caliban that their understanding faltered. Even Sabrina, trying her best, didn't quite understand.

“I’m sitting on your couch because I was invited, Huckleberry Finn.”

After defeating the Darkness and unbinding your powers, you’d gone to Sabrina’s with a tub of ice cream and explained everything. A weight that had been slowly crushing you was lifted off your chest that night, but it came back in full force with every angry word from Harvey. It wasn’t like you’d expected him to understand, but you’d hoped he would at least try. 

“Okay!” Standing up, you let out a weighty breath and held out your hands to stop them from speaking. “Will you two stop antagonizing one another for five minutes?” 

Reluctantly, Caliban nodded as Harvey collapsed back in his chair and grumbled, “Fine, but I still don’t like him.” 

“You don’t have to like him. You just have to respect that I like him,” you said. Harvey didn’t seem convinced, so you sighed and tried to come up with a new strategy. Finally, you stopped pacing and turned to Harvey. “Do you know what it’s like to feel like a piece of you is missing?” To Roz, “Like there’s something wrong with you because you just don’t fit in with everyone else?” To Theo, “And then you figure out what it is and you can’t tell anyone because you don’t think they’d care about you anymore if they found out?” You wiped your face haphazardly and stared at the Smashing Pumpkins poster peeling off the back wall. “It fucking sucks.” 

“And I’m sorry you had to go through all that,” Harvey said, standing up and blocking your view of the poster. “I am. But you can’t expect me to be okay after finding out that you spent the last three months lying to everyone and dating that asshole.” 

“I didn’t want to lie to you!” You felt the Darkness rising in your throat and did your best to push it down. Taking a deep, shaky breath, you looked back at Harvey and tried not to cry. “Is it so hard to believe that I was scared to tell you, or did you forget when you cut Sabrina out of your life when she told you?” 

Harvey frowned. His hand twitched at his side as he glanced at Sabrina. “That’s not the same thing.”

“Yeah, I know, because she was the most important person in your life and I’m just the kid that lives next door.” Your voice broke and Harvey stepped forward to give you a hug. The Darkness lurched at the movement and you stepped back to keep it from hurting him. Taking another step back, you started gathering your stuff. “I can’t do this right now.” 

“Hey, just hold on a second, okay?” Harvey tried to grab your wrist to stop you, and you couldn’t stop the Darkness from lashing out this time. 

“Don’t touch me.”

Harvey frowned, his hand outstretched and frozen, and a familiar, glassy film cloud covered his eyes. The air was sucked out of the room as Harvey blinked and tried to recover. His hand still hung in the air. Your heart broke.

“I need to go,” you rushed out, scrambling for the door. You didn’t care about the stuff you dropped or the fact that Caliban was sitting on the couch the last you saw - all you cared about was getting out before you did anything worse. Still, you froze in the doorway. Over your shoulder, you mustered up all your courage and said, “I’m sorry.”

You weren’t sure if any of your friends heard you over their concern for Harvey or if they just didn’t want to respond, but at least Caliban caught up to you in the silence. He didn’t reach out for you for the rest of the night, all he did was stare at you with stormy, unfathomable eyes.

---

Hilda Spellman was the closest thing you’d ever had to a mother; she was warm and inviting, and always made your favorite cupcakes if you were having a bad day. She made sure that your dad always had something on the table for dinner. She took you shopping every year before school started. She let you stay in their house for almost a month when you were convinced that your bedroom was haunted. Hilda Spellman deserved nothing but happiness. 

So why couldn’t you suck it up for one day and give her the perfect wedding that she deserved? 

Because, despite your best efforts, you were still upset at how things had unfolded with your friends. While Theo and Roz forgave you for lying and accepted you for being a witch, they weren’t sure they could give Caliban a chance after he lashed out at Harvey. Talking to Harvey might have solved that problem, but he was pretty much set on avoiding you. You didn't blame him after what you did to him, even if he didn't know what exactly it was you did to him.

All this drama might not have been an issue otherwise, but they were the only people you knew at this wedding. So far, the only other people to show up were witches that were preoccupied with either the Uninvited or the incubus on the loose. 

When you noticed Nick had disappeared from door duty, you finished your drink and set the glass down. Sliding in next to Sabrina, you bumped her arm with your elbow and held your hand out for some of the programs. “Need a hand?” 

“Not really, but I’ll take the company,” she said with a smile. She handed you a stack of creamy pink programs and laughed wistfully. “Nick was supposed to help me with this but he’d rather get busy with Prudence in the coat closet.” 

You tried not to laugh as you handed a program to a very solemn-looking witch. “Yeah, well, at least he’s talking to you,” you said, watching the witch disappear into the steadily growing crowd. 

Sabrina rolled her eyes. “Harvey will come around,” she said, pausing to smile as she handed out another program. “He’s just scared of losing you in all this.”

“You know, Caliban actually said something similar after we left the other night.” This time, you didn’t bother hiding your laughter. Sabrina didn’t bat an eye at taking on an eldritch terror, but the possibility of Caliban having a valid point seemed to shake her to her core. “He said that I shouldn’t be so hard on Harvey because all he wants is to keep me safe, but this is the one thing that he can’t protect me from. The magic and … getting my heart broken.” 

Sabrina tried to reign in her surprise, but she still seemed stunned as she handed out another program. “That … actually makes sense.” 

“Weird, right?” You stole a look at the line forming outside the church and your heart ached when you saw your friends lugging their band equipment through the parking lot. It was going to be a long night. 

Sabrina followed your gaze and sighed. “So ... where is Caliban? You RSVPed that you were bringing a plus-one but I don’t see him anywhere.” 

You tore your eyes away from the band to hand out another program. Shaking your head, you said, “I was going to bring him, but then I figured that this was Hilda’s special day and she didn't need a fistfight between her lead singer and a plus one.” 

“Well, I think you should bring him,” Sabrina said. “What? Just because I’m going to be sad and alone the whole night doesn’t mean you have to.” 

So, after a quick check with Hilda, you invited Caliban. He agreed to come, if you promised to talk to him about your lesser angels creeping in. 

You could feel Harvey staring at the back of your head throughout the whole ceremony, but Theo sat next to you and Robin said he’d save you guys a seat at the reception. Things were starting to look up, even if they were a little weird. 

As awkward as the ceremony had been, the reception was great. Caliban was as charming as ever, winning over Theo and Robin and making witches swoon left and right. Despite all your time together, you’d never seen him this comfortable around others. A room without demons or humans, it seemed, was where you found common ground. 

Until Sabrina’s toast. 

She lost credibility before she even opened her mouth by stumbling up the stage steps. Opening with a joke, she had a solid two and a half seconds before she started drawing attention to every couple in the nearby vicinity - starting with Harvey and Roz, glossing over Theo and Robin to mention you and Caliban, and eventually landing on Nick and Prudence. Sabrina tried to save the toast by circling back to Hilda, but it was too late. She crashed into the drums, said she’d be single for a century and a half, and was dragged off-stage by Zelda while the Fright Club scrambled to perform their set.

Amidst the chaos, Caliban ducked his head closer to yours and brought his drink to his lips. “You know,” he said, pausing to take a sip, “If you’d told me how much fun these gatherings were, I would have come with you a long time ago.”

Rolling your eyes, you took his drink and shifted in your seat so you could lean against him. “Does that mean I can sign you up for the book club?” 

“That depends. What are we reading?” Caliban asked. He looked away from the stage to meet your eyes. 

“The Feminine Mystique.” 

“Oh, okay.” 

Laughing, you tilted your head up to kiss his jaw. Settling back into your seat and intertwining your hands, you said, “Well, if it counts for anything, I’m glad you’re here now.”

If you thought the worst part of the night was Sabrina’s toast, you were totally and completely unprepared for the incubus attack. It jumped from Theo to Harvey to Melvin before landing in the Uninvited. Their eyes were wild for a moment, but then the Uninvited shuddered as their eyes returned to a deep, empty brown. They’d eaten the incubus, and moments later they bit into Dorian’s heart like an apple. 

There was something unbearably sad about the Uninvited, and the Darkness within you ached to fix them. It didn’t matter that they toasted to the end of all things, all that mattered was that they were alone. You started reaching out for them when Caliban took his hand in yours and pulled you closer to him. 

“I am the Herald of the Void. I feast on the hearts of those that reject me. And someone here turned me away, therefore, death to you all.” The Uninvited smiled and downed whatever had been in their glass. 

Tipping your glass towards the Uninvited, you drank to their toast as Hilda apologized for turning them away. She tried to invite them, but the Uninvited said it was too late. They’d already been turned away. 

Nick stepped forward as the one that had turned the Uninvited away to sacrifice himself, but Sabrina tugged him back by the edge of his sleeve. Prudence was one step behind, holding Nick close to her chest as Sabrina offered the Uninvited a heart of sorts. She explained that she’s been wandering a cosmos of her own lately, feeling hopelessly alone, and just wanting to belong somewhere with someone. If they got married, the Uninvited would have her heart and a place to belong, always. Forevermore, they’d be the Invited. 

The Darkness grew unruly as the Uninvited considered her proposal, and for a moment you thought they’d do as the Darkness wanted and rip Sabrina’s heart from her ribcage. Instead, all they did was nod.

---

Cold bit at your fingertips as you sat, knees pulled up to your chest, on the wall outside the desecrated church, but the stolen Mother’s Ruin kept your stomach warm. The sun had disappeared somewhere between the fake wedding and trapping the Uninvited in Sabrina’s old dollhouse, October chill coming in with the night sky, but you welcomed the change. Indifferent sunshine to apathetic stars. 

Pouring out a bit of gin on the dead flowers below, you said a silent prayer for the Uninvited. Not for forgiveness, but maybe understanding. Hoping it would make the Darkness subside.

The crunching of dried grass underfoot interrupted your thoughts. 

“This seat taken?”

You shrugged but moved over all the same to make space for Harvey. He threw a lanky leg over the side of the wall as he let out a deep breath. When he was settled, you offered him some of the Mother’s Ruin but he shook his head. 

“No, uh, I’m good. Thanks though.” Harvey drummed uncertainly on the sides of the wall, watching carefully as you drank his rejected share of the gin. “So I was thinking about something the Uninvited said back there - about wandering around all alone until the terrors welcomed them to their club?” 

Raising an eyebrow, you asked, “Are you about to call my boyfriend a terror?”

Harvey laughed, a deep, unsure sound, and looked down at the wall again. “Well, he is, but no.” He sighed and tried to get back to his point. “Look, I know I’m not the best at handling change. When Sabrina … I don’t know. It just- it kills me that you felt like you felt so alone and didn’t think you could talk to me.” 

“Harvey-” 

“Wait, let me finish.” Harvey took another deep breath. His nose was red, either from the cold or because he was holding back tears. “I never ever wanted to be the reason why you got hurt. But I was, and I’m sorry that I made you feel like that.” 

You slid your hand over his. “Thank you,” you said quietly. 

“I’m still not done.” 

“Of course, you’re not.”

Harvey choked out another laugh and smiled. “Don’t tell Theo but you’re my best friend. And if Caliban makes you happy then … I kinda owe it to you to give him a shot.” 

“So you’ll stop antagonizing him?” you asked, sitting up a bit straighter and pointing the bottle of gin at Harvey’s chest. 

“Well, I never said that,” Harvey said dramatically. He laughed and pulled his other leg over the wall, taking the bottle from you and pulling a face after he tasted it. “Okay, what stars are we looking at tonight?” 

You threw your legs over the side and let out a deep breath as you leaned against Harvey’s arm. “Fuck if I know. Tommy was the one who remembered all that stuff.” 

“You just wanna make some up?” Harvey asked. He put his arm around your shoulder and handed the bottle back to you.

Hugging the bottle to your chest to keep the Darkness warm as it slept, you looked up to the sky and pointed to a cluster of stars. “That one’s you because it’s ugly.”

Tagged:  @caliban-is-my-girl  @t-a-i-l-o-r-m-a-d-e​  @music-movies  @miss--moose  @marrypuffsstuff​  @harryscarolinaa​  @igorsbby  @foji2000​  @hxlalokidottir​    @artaxerxesthegreat​  @thxmagic  @luquincy  @strawberriesandknives​  @xealia​  @hotmessindisguise  @acciomaximoff​  @reheated-coffee​​  @olivia-west-allen  @shelby-x​  @perseny-blog​  @millie-753​  @luneerius​  @shizzybarnaclee​  @lettherebelovex​  @drrramaaaqweeen​  @throughparisallthroughrome​  @ietss​  @thebookwormlife​  @mechanicalanimalz​  @mariamermaid​  @nqbmf​ @roxytheimmortal​  @shephard17895​  @andie-kathleen​  @clockworks-world-to-fandoms​  @blondeeee-e  @piensa-bonito  @supportstudies​  @bookishaficionado​  @perfectlysane24​

[unjourjeseraideretourpresdetoi]

9/10 Chapter 1 - Malt

I started writing a bit of a Harry/Kim fanfic??? Because why the hell not. Anyway, here’s the first part of it. I’m kind of just making it up as I go with a few specific ideas scattered in my head. Spoilers for various plot points. Here’s a sample before the cut. Feel free to send any suggestions or critique, since it’s been ages since I have done much writing. Still working on getting a feel for Harry’s skill voices.

YOU — After a little while, your voice finally returns. “Why are you so nice to me?” KIM KITSURAGI — He takes a long pause and leans back in his chair. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just stubborn too.” PERCEPTION — You turn to look at him as you finally untangle yourself from your chrysalis of arms, and he looks different somehow. You don’t know if it’s your eyes being sore as hell, or the dull ambiance of the hazy bar lights. Somehow, he looks so light. His bomber jacket is slightly pulled up by his folded arms behind his head, seeming to break the bulky illusion it usually projects over his slim torso. Like suddenly seeing a gap in a suit of armor. SUGGESTION — You should tickle him. ESPRIT DE CORPS — He will kill you in mere seconds if you do that.

ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN — Hello again, Harry boy. The midnight train to Fuck-All-Borough is boarding once again, and you’ve pre-paid your seat. YOU — Okay. ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN — Yes, that’s right. Let’s drive right into the sweet, succulent sopor of oblivion. Let no feelings come to pass, no sensations, just the pure bliss of the radiating void. YOU — But aren’t you here? ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN — That’s just it, Harry. I’m nothing. I am the pale of the mind, I am the deafening silence, I am the black canvas that stretches taut when you close your eyes. I am the swaddle that cradles the mind and the ocean you will drown in. I am born of you and someday, you will die in me. LIMBIC SYSTEM —  But not yet—something still stirs in this weighted sack. Something heavy, and sore, and full of noise that steadily rises into a crescendo.

PERCEPTION — And then you open your eyes. And it fucking hurts. PAIN THRESHOLD — Dear god, it’s like a jackhammer on a pogo stick on another jackhammer. PERCEPTION — You realize there’s a smell you haven’t smelled in a few weeks now that’s uncomfortably emanating from your form. Al Gul. COMPOSURE — Oh. You finally did it again. You fucked up.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — So we got a little smashed. Who cares. You know what’s a great way to stop feeling sorry about it? Getting smashed again. AUTHORITY — No. YOU — Why am I always fucking things up? HALF LIGHT — Because life is terrifying. LOGIC — He’s right about that one.

YOU — What was I doing last night? ELECTROCHEMISTRY — Like I said, getting smashed. CONCEPTUALIZATION — Painting the world with a palette of sugary booze and sad, old rock and roll for sad, old rockstars.

YOU — Who did I hurt this time? DRAMA — Mostly, just yourself. VOLITION — A small miracle, if so. You’re used to self-immolation. YOU — But why? Why now? We were doing better. ELECTROCHEMISTRY — Speak for yourself. LOGIC — You do know that you can’t just ride out two decades of practiced chemical drowning on a workhorse of piety and guilt, right?

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT — This ceaseless dependency on cocktails of narcotics and spirits has weakened you shamefully. PERCEPTION — You look around your dimly lit bedroom, eyes half-closed anyway to quiet the searing pain in your cerebral cortex, slowly putting the pieces back together as the rest of your body wakes up.

YOU — I was having a shitty day. I was stuck on a case and my mind just kept drifting into half-remembered past mistakes. After work, I decided to do it. I called her again, like an idiot. I thought to myself, I can do this, I can let her go, and I’ll tell her I’m finally over it (almost). INLAND EMPIRE — But that is not how it went. She had prepared for the next time you would call. The last time was terrifying enough, torn awake at 3 in the morning, listening to your desperate lies, digging through past trauma. 

YOU — “Hey, uh, Dora. It’s Harry. I’m sorry—“ PERCEPTION — A sharp sigh breaks your concentration. DORA — “Let me stop you there, Harry. Because I’m tired of this. You’ve been doing this six years now but it feels at least twice as long. So since you can’t put an end to it, I am. Don’t call again. You won’t be reaching me at this number anymore.” PERCEPTION — Before you can react, there’s silence. And a dial tone. YOU — Fuck. Fuck shit fuck.

COMPOSURE — You stumble through dialing the number again, fingers slipping the first time from nerves and connecting the second, with no answer. You try again. And again. And then you stop trying. It takes everything in you not to smash the phone where it sits. PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT — You need to smash something. If we can’t smash the phone, we HAVE to smash something. REACTION SPEED — Your feet are already taking you away from the pay phone, one thought ahead of the rest of you. You barely round the corner into the alley before you plant your fist full force into the nearest brick wall. PAIN THRESHOLD — Your hand spirals into a fractal of pain, blood dripping down your busted knuckles, slowly running down the dirtied wall. You can feel the cracking of your knuckles, like a brittle lacework of glass strapped down only by the leather of your worn-out hands. HALF-LIGHT — Get out of here. ELECTROCHEMISTRY — Now that you’re done smashing your fist, it’s time to get the rest of you smashed. YOU — “Fuck it. I’m getting a drink.”

CONCEPTUALIZATION — From there, it was a blaze of sweet, hot fire down your throat and back up again, run ragged from shitty karaoke and mild alcohol poisoning. But the film reel is running thin, and you’re struggling to get anything else from your memory bank.

YOU — How did I get back? I don’t remember walking home. ESPRIT DE CORPS — You asked for help.

HAND-EYE COORDINATION — You pat at your pockets, searching for the right one, not quite remembering what you’re doing but knowing the answer you thought of for a fraction of a second is somewhere in there. After a moment, you find it, carefully tucked away but nevertheless damp with sweat from your slacks.

“If you need to talk— 005-93-88-651 Lt. Kitsuragi”

INTERFACING — Your hands are a bit shaky, but you dial out the number on the slip of paper in your hands. PERCEPTION — It rings once. Twice. A third time. And then you hear the receiver click. KIM KITSURAGI — “Hello?”

SHIVERS — In a small apartment in Central Jamrock, not too far from Precinct 41, and not too far from the Jamrock Public Library, Lieutenant Kitsuragi sits on his bed, some light reading in hand, winding down for the night. His new apartment is still filled with cardboard boxes here and there, in no particular hurry to be unpacked. The lights of the city pierce through like little pinpricks in the glare of his bedside window, still insistent on their presence even in the quiet of a cool spring night.

YOU — “Hi, Kim, I uh…” Your voice shakes and you lose your words for a moment, because some part of you really didn’t expect him to pick up. KIM KITSURAGI — “Detective? It’s after midnight.” DRAMA — It’s already that late? You must’ve woken him up. A bad start. YOU — “Uhh… sorry, I uh. Wasn’t looking at the clock. We can just talk tomorrow—“ KIM KITSURAGI — “You’re drunk.” COMPOSURE — Fuck. There’s nothing coming out of your mouth anymore. Another bad phone call. It takes everything in you not to cry. You do anyway.

KIM KITSURAGI — “Where are you?” YOU — You manage to croak out enough to say “Sunshine’s Hideaway. Bar on 12th street.” KIM KITSURAGI — He pauses a moment, thinking. “...I’ll be there in a few minutes.” ESPRIT DE CORPS — He’s thinking about the best route there. LOGIC — He doesn’t have his motor carriage right now. He’s going to have to walk it, and it’s cold out. YOU — “I… you don’t have to do that, I’ll just—“ KIM KITSURAGI — “Harrier, just shut up and park your ass somewhere warm until I get there.” AUTHORITY — He’s doing it! He’s doing the eyebrow thing but on the phone! I didn’t know he could do that! YOU — “Yessir.”

It probably takes about 15 minutes for him to arrive, though each minute feels like five. You feel like a child waiting for their parents to come pick them up at school. You’re pretty sure everyone is staring at you. You can’t really see through the blurry bokeh of your stupid tears. But you can just barely make out the door of the bar opening, followed by a silhouette marked by orange slipping through. Lieutenant Kitsuragi spots you after a moment, and you quickly try to wipe your eyes like you haven’t just been crying the whole time as he approaches. KIM KITSURAGI — You can hear him pull at the chair next to yours, calmly settling into place. “Hello, detective.”

YOU — You try to pull up some words, but you just find yourself nodding appreciatively as you try not to grimace. COMPOSURE — Somehow, the moment his eyes fall on you, you feel like someone just ripped the rug right out from under your feet. You slide down on your elbows, face pressing down onto the table in humiliation, locking your hands together on the back of your neck, like you’re trying to hide in a little tomb of your own arms.

KIM KITSURAGI — You hear the lieutenant take a deep breath and sigh. He unzips his jacket, stifling him in the warm interior of the bar. “That rough, huh?”

YOU — You don’t want to say anything, but your mouth opens before you can stop it. “I’m such an asshole, Kim. I keep fucking everything up, over and over, no matter how hard I try. I just. Keep falling back into my bullshit.” Your voice shakes as you get the words out. “Is this just as good as it’s gonna get at this point? Have I fucked up entirely too much, entirely too long, am I just… this constant trainwreck now and forever? How much of myself have I wasted away into nothing, doing this shit? Acting like a child. Acting like an animal. It feels sometimes like all I have is more downturns. More hurting people. More hurting myself. And I’m so, so fucking tired… and I don’t wanna do this anymore. If this is how it is, I don’t want to… be.” Your voice stops making any noise by the time you reach the end of that.

HALF-LIGHT — And then there’s silence. You know this silence. It’s the sound of someone deciding they’re sick of your shit. This is the moment he realizes he really, truly does not know you and you don’t know him. And he knows he has to get out of here, before you take him down with you, like you’ve done to so many others. EMPATHY — But then there’s a hard pat on your back. Thumping against a hollow drum, ringing through your electrified lungs. KIM KITSURAGI — “It’s okay, detective.” PERCEPTION — His voice is soft and careful.

KIM KITSURAGI — “Honestly, it’s astonishing you’ve held out this long. It’s barely been two months since Martinaise. Since the Whirling. Throughout my time in the RCM, I have seen many good officers break over less. I didn’t know you before March. I don’t really know what kind of officer you might’ve been before that. But who I am familiar with is the Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor Harrier Du Bois, the officer I met two months ago, who is probably the strangest man I’ve ever met, but he is also the most relentless, the most stubborn, the most annoying, and honestly, the most sincere man I’ve ever known to grace the RCM. He is a man who cares enough to find the time in his busy workload to help people he just met, whose troubles he sniffs out like a bloodhound, offering them the help that no one else would. No matter how trivial, or how complicated. I don’t know if this selflessness is something you picked up because you don’t know how to help yourself, but I do know there’s a real effort in there. There’s a real, true love for the people of Revachol. And I know how much this job takes out of people. You can’t turn every mistake around in just a few months. Probably not even a few years. But I think what matters is that you are trying, and I can see how much it hurts you to feel like you’ve failed in that. Please don’t think that tonight is a sign that you can’t do better. Tonight is a dam breaking in the expectations you’ve built up for yourself after staring down your own potential.”

PERCEPTION — Are you laughing? Or is that crying? INLAND EMPIRE — It feels like there are ghosts escaping your every breath. Like parts of you are desperately rushing to the surface, tearing through flesh and bone, clawing at a chance for freedom. The lieutenant’s arm still rests heavily on your back, the only anchor your spirit has left as it dissipates into vapor and rushes through the night.

VOLITION — You cry until there’s nothing left in you anymore.

YOU — After a little while, your voice finally returns. “Why are you so nice to me?” KIM KITSURAGI — He takes a long pause and leans back in his chair. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just stubborn too.” PERCEPTION — You turn to look at him as you finally untangle yourself from your chrysalis of arms, and he looks different somehow. You don’t know if it’s your eyes being sore as hell, or the dull ambiance of the hazy bar lights. Somehow, he looks so light. His bomber jacket is slightly pulled up by his folded arms behind his head, seeming to break the bulky illusion it usually projects over his slim torso. Like suddenly seeing a gap in a suit of armor. SUGGESTION — You should tickle him. ESPRIT DE CORPS — He will kill you in mere seconds if you do that.

KIM KITSURAGI — After a moment, he realizes you’re staring at him, then adjusts in his seat, leaning forward and settling his arms in front of him. “How are you feeling? Do you think you can walk?” YOU — “I uhh... probably. My leg doesn’t hurt as much right now.” KIM KITSURAGI — “Mm.” He mutters, getting up from his seat. “At least there is that small grace. How far is your place?” PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT — You’re pretty sure he’s offering to walk you back. You’re not a child, you can get home perfectly fine on your own, thank you. YOU — “Ten blocks.” COMPOSURE — You quickly try to rise to your feet, but it becomes immediately apparent that the floor has been replaced with a rickety old carousel, and you promptly lose your footing. REACTION SPEED — Before you can even attempt to figure out what is happening, you realize that Lieutenant Kitsuragi has wrapped one of his arms around your back. PERCEPTION — His grip is tight and you can feel the muscles tensing in his forearm against your back. Once again, its presence stabilizes you, a beacon for your twisting senses to converge upon. It takes a few moments for everything to slot back into the correct place. KIM KITSURAGI — “Are you sure you’re alright, detective?” DRAMA — His concern is quite sincere. YOU — “I just gotta sleep this off.” You say as you steady yourself back upright.

KIM KITSURAGI — “Let’s get going, then.” He nods to you as he zips up his jacket again, then stretches his right arm out behind your back. PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT — No, dude, fuck that shit, you’re sick of people propping you up because of your stupid leg, we can do this shit on our own! YOU — “Thanks.” You steady yourself against his arm and extend your left against his back as well. PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT — Hey, what! DRAMA — By now, the lieutenant knows when you’re just trying to bullshit and act like a tough guy. It’s time to drop the act, for now. He knows you need the help. You wouldn’t have called him if you didn’t.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — That’s all I got. The rest is just black. YOU — Ugghhhhhh damn it. Like Kim hasn’t seen enough of me making an ass of myself by now. EMPATHY — On the bright side, his mental image of you can probably only improve. Hopefully. Maybe. YOU — Whatever. What time is it? PERCEPTION — You look around for your alarm clock, and find it knocked onto the floor beside your bed. It says 9:53. YOU — Shit. Did I have work today? ESPRIT DE CORPS — No. Your hours have been temporarily reduced during your recovery period. YOU — Right. Okay. I should probably get up and do something about this headache.

You throw the blanket off of your body and gradually roll yourself out of bed, bones creaking with aches and pains, limping across the room and dodging various discarded clothes and shoes that litter the floor. You twist the doorknob and open your bedroom door, making your way across the living room, towards the bathroom.

REACTION SPEED — Wait! There’s someone… on the couch? PERCEPTION — A figure of a man lies on the couch, covered with an ugly patchwork blanket, still sleeping. Next to the couch, an orange bomber jacket rests. Wait… is that Kim? HALF-LIGHT — OH MY GOD, you’re half-naked, GET BACK IN YOUR ROOM AND PUT YOUR PANTS ON BEFORE YOU HUMILIATE YOURSELF. SAVOIR FAIRE — You quickly backpedal, trying not to make any noise, and press your door shut firmly, hoping that you weren’t noticed. YOU — Why is he here??? I thought he just walked me home? HALF-LIGHT — Stop thinking and get your damn armor on! VOLITION — Armor? We didn’t find any armor pants in Martinaise. DRAMA — He’s being metaphorical. You hurriedly stuff your legs into the closest pair of semi-clean trousers before peeking out the door again.

PERCEPTION — The lieutenant is still asleep on the couch. SAVOIR FAIRE — Alright, go time. You sneak through the living room and into the bathroom, carefully trying not to creak the medicine cabinet as you get yourself some painkillers. ELECTROCHEMISTRY — Down the whole bottle! Party time! VOLITION — No. We are not doing that.

After taking the recommended dose of painkillers, you peek out into the living room again. PERCEPTION — Lieutenant Kitsuragi is still resting quietly on your couch, lying on his back, tightly wrapped in the ugly spare blanket from your linen closet. You suddenly realize there’s something different about the living room… such as, there’s less garbage everywhere. EMPATHY — Did he clean the room up for you? Or maybe for himself?

You exit the bathroom and slowly cross the living room, stopping halfway through, looking at the lieutenant again. PERCEPTION — He looks peaceful, and his face relaxed and still. With his glasses off, you notice more of the shape of his brow and his tired eyes. His breathing is slow and measured, with quiet sighs. One of his arms dangles out from under the blanket, his hand just barely off the floor. His fingers are thin, bony, weathered from work, with little scars and blemishes that have mostly faded away.

SUGGESTION — Hold it.

YOU — What?

No one replies. You stare for a moment, feeling a tension in your chest. Curiosity snakes through your skin. You step closer towards the couch, then slowly crouch down, meeting the lieutenant’s eye level.

SUGGESTION — Hold it. Please.

You reach forward, and the lieutenant suddenly stirs.

KIM KITSURAGI — “Mmnh…” His eyes flutter open. “Oh, good morning detective.” YOU — “Uh, yeah. Good morning.” You casually withdraw your hand and rest it on your leg. “Why are you here…?” KIM KITSURAGI — “You don’t remember?” He asks with a hint of concern. YOU — “Well, mostly. I remember you helped me walk home, but after that, it’s fuzzy.” KIM KITSURAGI — “Ah, so just the normal amount of alcohol-induced forgetfulness.” The lieutenant nods at you, then sits up on the couch. He reaches for his glasses on the side table, then folds them open. “I decided to stay here on the couch, just in case...” He trails off. EMPATHY — To keep an eye on you. In case you started doing worse.

YOU — “...Thanks. I’m sorry for interrupting your night.” KIM KITSURAGI — “No need to apologize,” he says with a slight smile. “Honesty, I’m… glad you asked for help instead of isolating yourself. That would have been…” He pauses, looking for the correct words. “Not ideal. What time is it, anyway?” YOU — “Bit after 10.” KIM KITSURAGI — “Already that late? Good thing I’m not working today.”

YOU — “Sorry to make you clean up after me.” You say, glancing across the room. KIM KITSURAGI — “Well, no, it’s not your fault or anything. You didn’t expect company.” He seems a bit self-conscious suddenly, looking away. “I suppose it’s more like I don’t know how to leave a mess alone.” SUGGESTION — You’re not sure which mess he means—the apartment, or you. EMPATHY — It’s both. You feel a slight embarrassment tingling across the surface of your skin and decide to change the topic.

YOU — “You said you have the day off?” KIM KITSURAGI — “Yes, I have a few errands to run, part of some loose ends to clean up for my transfer to 41. But I can get those done any time during the day.” SUGGESTION — You should— YOU — “Do you wanna go get breakfast? I know a good place down the street.” You say it before you can even finish thinking. KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant sits quietly for a moment, adjusting his glasses. “Hmmm… sure, why the hell not. I’ve got some time to spare.” SUGGESTION — Jackpot! YOU — “I’m gonna go get dressed, you’re welcome to the bathroom if you need it.” KIM KITSURAGI — “Sounds good.”

You walk into your bedroom and shut the door behind you. 

CONCEPTUALIZATION — Time to get stylish! LOGIC — Not that stylish, it’s just breakfast. Don’t make it weird. INLAND EMPIRE — Hey, weird is our thing! YOU — I think I’m just gonna wear whatever’s clean and doesn’t smell repulsive. CONCEPTUALIZATION — Oh, sorry, didn’t know we were Boring Cop today.

After taking a quick glance at what’s available, you decide to just go with a simple, pastel gingham button-up and a fresh pair of jeans. Glancing at your coats, you grab a blue blazer with a checkered lining.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT — Oh my god you look like a nerd. RHETORIC — No, he looks smart. Ready to have a battle of the wits. PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT — Yeah, like I said, A NERD!

You quietly ignore the high school bullying going on inside your head as you exit the room. Lieutenant Kitsuragi glances at you from next to the couch, in the middle of putting on his jacket.

KIM KITSURAGI — “No disco today?” He says with a slight smile. YOU — “All my disco’s due for the wash.” KIM KITSURAGI — He tugs at his collar and settles his jacket into place. “It’s almost odd to see you in something so… tame.” YOU — “I mean, I still got the jackets from Fuck the World and Piss F****t if you change your mind.” KIM KITSURAGI — “Somehow I doubt the waitstaff would be understanding of the artist’s statements at breakfast.” He lets out a small chuckle. EMPATHY — There’s a surprising softness in his response. KIM KITSURAGI — “I’m all set to go if you are.”

The two of you head out of your apartment and set out down the road, your destination just two blocks away. The streets of Jamrock are already lively with pedestrians and motor carriages milling about. Before long, you arrive at a staircase with a weathered, striped canopy hanging above, quietly announcing its presence with simple text saying “The Lazy Daisy”. You and the lieutenant head down the stairs and enter the little eatery, pushing past the door and being met with the sweet and salty smells of this morning’s meals. You wave to the waitress and take a seat at a little table in the corner.

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant takes his seat across from you, his eyes studying the surroundings. “You know, I never noticed this place before.” YOU — “Yeah, it’s easy to miss amongst all the other businesses on this road.” KIM KITSURAGI — “But you remembered it?” YOU — “I think my feet did.”

WAITRESS — A cheerful, pudgy woman in her forties wearing a striped apron walks over to the table, little menu books in hand. “Good morning officers! Thanks for stopping by the Lazy Daisy today. Can I get you something to drink while you look over the menu?”

YOU — “You wanna get a pot of coffee, Kim?” KIM KITSURAGI — “Sure, that sounds fine.” WAITRESS — “Alright, I’ll give you a moment to look over the menu!”

You already know what you’re going to order: skillet hash with a side of toast. You watch the lieutenant look the menu over and find yourself wondering what he’ll order. YOU — “You seem like an Eggs Benedict kind of guy to me.” KIM KITSURAGI — “I was thinking about trying this malted waffle actually. It’s been a while since I had a good waffle.” He replies, not looking up from the menu. “But you are correct, I do enjoy a good Eggs Benedict.”

YOU — “Can’t go wrong with either one.” WAITRESS — The waitress returns, a full pot of coffee in one hand and two mugs in the other. She gently places the pot of coffee at the center of the little table and places the mugs down on either side. “Alright, so what can I get for you boys?” YOU — “I’ll go for the skillet hash with a side of dry toast. And the lieutenant here…” KIM KITSURAGI — “I’ll take a malted waffle with a side of bacon.” WAITRESS — “Sounds great! I’ll bring it out when it’s ready.”

You turn your attention to the coffee and partially fill both of the mugs, absent-mindedly adding a sugar cube and a little cup of half-and-half to yours and stirring, watching the color spread and blend. You look up and notice the lieutenant surveying the restaurant again.

KIM KITSURAGI — “Hmmm… yes, this place certainly seems your style.” YOU — “What, sad and old?” KIM KITSURAGI — He smiles slightly, but his brow betrays his discomfort. “No, I was thinking more along the lines of… eclectic, stubborn, lively.” He glances at the walls covered in various posters, art, and rock and roll memorabilia. YOU — “Disco.” KIM KITSURAGI — “Disco.” He nods affirmatively.

You absently stir your coffee and lift it to your mouth to take a sip, mulling over topics of conversation. RHETORIC — Go for a standard sort of icebreaker, what’s the latest with him, that sort of thing. ESPRIT DE CORPS — Let’s talk work. Trade some gritty case stories with him! INTERFACING — Maybe you could talk torque dork to torque dork? EMPATHY — Neither of you have motor carriages right now. That would just be a bummer. INLAND EMPIRE — Ask him to tell you a secret! AUTHORITY — That one never works.

YOU — “You just moved into your new place, right Kim? How is it?” KIM KITSURAGI — “Hmm, it’s not bad. I had to make a few concessions but… there’s a bit more floor space than my last place. I finally have a good space for a proper desk.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “Now the only trouble is getting a desk up three flights of stairs.”

YOU — “I can lend you a hand with that if you want. I have reason to suspect I may be a former gym teacher.” PERCEPTION — You can’t really hear it, but judging by the steam rolling away from the mug at his lips, you can tell the lieutenant let a light chuckle out through his nose before taking another sip of coffee.

KIM KITSURAGI — “Maybe I’ll take you up on that when I find something suitable.” RHETORIC — Great job! Look at you! You’re so good at talking like a normal person!

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant casually withdraws his notebook from his jacket and starts perusing it while he slowly sips his coffee. YOU — “Hey, no working until we’ve had breakfast.” KIM KITSURAGI — He barely moves, glancing upwards at you and cocking an eyebrow. AUTHORITY — It’s fine, that brow is only operating at about 25% capacity. You got this. YOU — “Take a break, lieutenant.” You place your hand on top of his, gently encouraging him to lower the notebook onto the table. He nonchalantly relents, quickly withdrawing his hand and tucking it under his other arm, which rests casually on the table. His glance wanders away from you and out towards the windows. EMPATHY — It’s hard to tell if he’s annoyed or just playing up indifference. Perhaps you shouldn’t have grabbed his hand like that.

You take a moment to look around the restaurant, passively taking in the surroundings that feel intensely familiar to your instincts, but strangely recent to the rest of you. It’s a weird feeling, one you’ve been experiencing just about everywhere you go in Jamrock. Places that you know but have never seen. Drifting shadows of the person you once were, and still are, half-buried in a haze. Your head fluctuates in the pressure, a mix of pristine images just out of reach and faint illusions gripped tightly in your palm.

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant’s low voice suddenly pulls you back to reality. “Everything alright, detective?” INLAND EMPIRE — There is a hole in my brain. YOU — “Yeah, sorry. Just thinking about the usual.” You pause, contemplating your next words. “Grinding the bourgeoisie into sausage for the proletariat and whatnot,” you lie. KIM KITSURAGI — “Ah, so nice of you to join us, Comrade Mazov.” YOU — You quickly bust out your trusty finger guns and fire off two shots, clicking your tongue as you snap your fingers. KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant is unphased by your reckless discharge of live rounds that undoubtedly rain chaos upon the once peaceful restaurant. DRAMA — C’mon, he probably thinks it’s at least a little cool. EMPATHY — It’s not, man.

RHETORIC — Let’s get back to the list. What else can we talk about? YOU — “Tell me a secret about yourself.” KIM KITSURAGI — He sighs. “This again?” YOU — “You know it.” KIM KITSURAGI — He pauses for a moment. “No.” YOU — “Aww, come on.” KIM KITSURAGI — He raises one eyebrow. AUTHORITY — Oh god, we have full capacity brow-raising. I repeat, full capacity!

KIM KITSURAGI — His brow lowers slightly, offering a challenge. “You’re terrible at keeping secrets. Maybe if you can think of a single piece of personal trivia you haven’t already divulged entirely unprompted to any random passerby, we can come back to this topic.” ESPRIT DE CORPS — He does not believe that his terms can be met. He is secure in that. SUGGESTION — Challenge accepted! YOU — “Deal.” DRAMA — You’re gonna need to work on this for like, at least 8 hours probably. Maybe more like 20.

WAITRESS — The same woman reappears with a tray in hand, radiating the unmistakable smell of hot, fresh breakfast. “Here you are, sirs!” She gently slides the plates in front of each of you. “Let me know if there’s anything else you need! Enjoy your food!” PERCEPTION — You notice the name on her apron: Denice. YOU — “Thanks, Denice.” WAITRESS — She offers a polite smile before leaving.

You immediately start digging in, shoveling the mixed bits of potato, egg, bacon, and cheese into your mouth, savoring the salt and fat of a hearty breakfast. It’s your favorite meal, but you don’t always have the time or energy to get anything decent most mornings.

SUGGESTION — Hey, I just had a great idea! Offer Kim some of this shit. YOU — You finish the bite you have in your mouth quickly. “Hey, Kim, you wanna try some of mine?” KIM KITSURAGI — He blinks. “No, thank you. I’ve got plenty here.” He looks down at the colossal waffle on his plate, barely dented. YOU — “Yeah but this is like, stupid good. I’ll even let you have some egg yolk.” KIM KITSURAGI — “Very generous of you.” He smirks, then studies your plate for a moment. “Hm… sure, why not.”

You slide your plate a bit closer to him. He holds his fork up, surveying for the ideal sample size. Then, he strikes, claiming an entire egg for himself.

YOU — “Woooow.” You feign offence. KIM KITSURAGI — “Sorry, detective. I’ll need to confiscate this. I believe it may be connected to a case I’m working on.” He tries to keep a straight face but the corner of his mouth is slightly turned upwards. In seconds, he files the evidence into his mouth and promptly destroys it.

YOU — “Can’t believe the corruption I am witnessing here.” In a counter-attack, you jab your fork into one of the untouched corners of the lieutenant’s waffle. KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant stabs his knife down across from your fork, as if ready to engage in combat. He stares you down, brows furrowed with the illusion of authority. “Detective, I would tread carefully if I were you. You have entered enemy territory, and I have the high ground.”

PERCEPTION — You can feel your face turning red in the heat of the incredibly stupid breakfast battle you have entered. AUTHORITY — Do it! Let loose the dogs of war! Get that fucking waffle! KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant narrows his eyes at you, his concentration unwavering. The authority levels are building in his brow. They are charged to 50% capacity. DRAMA — I have an idea, sire.

YOU — You relax back in your seat, looking behind Kim. “Oh, hey Captain Pryce, here to enjoy the best breakfast in Central Jamrock?” KIM KITSURAGI — He quickly turns his head to look behind him. SAVOIR FAIRE — In an instant, you slice a corner of the waffle free from Kim’s plate, casually sliding it onto yours. KIM KITSURAGI — Realizing the feint, he snaps his attention back to you, glaring.

YOU — You pull your plate back, then pick up your mug, gesturing towards the lieutenant with a slight smirk. “Truce?” KIM KITSURAGI — Studying you for a moment, he reluctantly picks up his mug and clinks it against yours. “For now.”

[han-shinsuke]

Lately, I noticed some changes in Nishinoya's behaviour towards my brother's friends. He seemed to discern whatsoever I can't figure out myself by just looking at them. Those kids, well, they weren't kids anymore to begin with, are like siblings to me. Basically watched them grow and had good times with them.

"What?!" as long as I can, I will keep my cool even though the mist on the corner of my eyes are already on the edge, "undress." Yuu repeated, forcing me to back away againsts the cold wall of the bathroom. He came unannounced in the training hub and dragged me back home. Luckily, my parents and brother are not around, so there would be no witness. My man had broken his own phone by smashing it in the garage.

"Your room fucking smell like them especially that San Catalina dude! He has his scent all over you." To my dismay, Noya spat and slammed his built against my small ones. Constantly squeezing my body with his fury.

Jealousy has taken over. He was blinded by it and I couldn't do anything to calm him unless, I wear the dress he bought and completely obliged to everything he would have to say.

"I told you, Yuu! They used my room for their final defense and there's nothing amiss with giving them congratulatory hugs!" I pushed him with my hands and he responded by blasting the shower on, drowning our bodies with heavy splashes. "don't make me tell you twice, Rei. You wouldn't like it." He wrecked my clothes from the outer down to the inner pieces, murmuring words meant for hell.

"Fuck. Fuck. You stinks of his scent. I swear I will fucking cut his throat for leaving his stench on my property!" I chose not to speak or drop a comeback or we will both burn each other with our fire. Nishinoya operated me like a doll and washed me thoroughly until the scent that pissed him go away.

"You fucking wear the lilac dress, Rei. I want your legs spread for me when I join you on the bed." I was pushed out of the shower and I just sighed. He's taking a bath and I need to prep myself for him. I blower dry my hair, put on his favorite perfume and wear the damn thin dress that would make his rage diminish.

I sat on my bed and sighed again. The last time I had sex with him was almost a month ago. I remembered joking him to find someone he could get laid on but he bantered expertly and had me sobbing due to his rough movements at his apartment. Damn. Yuu is devilishly good in bed.

"Hmm... pretty," Yuu commented as he walks towards my spot. He was wearing a greyish robe when he situated beside me. "I want you to ride a goddamn pillow for me, Rei. You can do it. I know you can." 

Never imagined Yuu has this kind of fantasy in him. I have been a good girl for him and I have always do whatever he pleases to quench his thirst for sex. There were times when he urged me to watch an adult film with him and then, at the middle of it, he would attack and destroy me really bad. Nishinoya Yuu is an agressive one.

"Y-Yuu... I-I can't." And I'm really scared and it's kinda embarrassing to have a man watch me hump a pillow. 

"Ssshh..." He shushed me with his lips and bit and tugged my red ones between his teeth, "obey me, babe or I will find San Catalina and kill him for real."

The terror and bloodlust portrayed on his face are telling me that I should follow and calamity would be avoided. To be the cause of someone's death was never in my wishlist. Fidgeting, I climbed on the bed and kneel in the middle. Noya, handed me a pillow and sat on the foot of the bed, smirking.

“Part your knees, Rei.” The room temperature increased and so my heartbeats. The pillow was shoved between my thighs and it’s not only my knees that gone separated. My mouth honed an ‘O’ when my cunt came in contact with the edge of the pillow that surprisingly has vibrator inside, “alexa, full speed.” Nishinoya smirked as I trembled. A smart sex toy!

“Aah, gosh!” my hands couldn’t find where to hold or who to hold and that made me, even though it is embarrassing, I ended up gripping my left thigh and right bosom as I rode with the toy’s rhythm, “gosh~ so fast, Yuu aah!” Lust. That’s what he can see in my eyes. Lust and thirst and excitement. Sex is scary. It could turn someone into a complete different person when fed with pleasures and desires.

My eyes were closed but my hands were hard and tight. I gripped the soft flesh and gave little attention to the small pear on the centre, “you are so fucking hot, babe~” I opened my eyes and met his beaming orbs. Nishinoya pointed a finger on the wall and I couldn’t agree more. There’s a full length mirror appended on it. I saw and watched myself in delight. I looked hot while bouncing my cunt and ass against the vibrating pillow and to make the fire go wild, I let go of my breast and let it bounce with the waves that my body is creating.

I was closed but the toy suddenly put on a halt. I sighed and pouted my lips. He removed the pillow between my thighs and thrown it somewhere in my room. Nishinoya discased himself and set down on the bed. His erection was as proud as him. It really looks hard and fat and I couldn’t help but wish to ride it as soon as possible. But the man had other plans in mind. He asked me to sit on his face and I did, “ooohhh~ hold on, Yuu aaahh~ don’t lick me so quick shit.” It was just his tongue that poked my clit but I’m already quivering and humping my core against his warm mouth.

“Cum in my mouth, babe and let me do the work in juicing you dry,” the time he have given wasn’t that enough to grasp the situation fully. He inserted his long tongue into my cunt and swirled and flicked the sensitive muscles that lies in there, stroking the part that had me desperately gasping for air as I squirt in his mouth and filled it with my orgasm. Knowing him, it will take exactly twenty minutes to put Yuu on his high but when it was me, that won’t take long because I don’t have control over it.

“Shit, Yuu~ it feels good~” down on the land, I still hump my cunt against his mouth and he didn’t mind. Instead, he wet my folds and everything in it with his saliva. Licked my labia and sucked the clitoral hood to help me pick up on the another level of heat we were bound to cross.

Nishinoya moaned between his dirty motions and I interpreted it as a ‘go’ to hump and bounce further. Reaching for his hot palms, I put those on my bouncing breast and he grabbed them with needs as he ate and slurped my essence in silence.

The times I moaned and gasped his name couldn’t be measured through counting numerically. It doesn’t matter at this hour and at this fiery moment. He had a grin on his lips when he stopped. I stood on my feet and offered him a hand. Nishinoya eyed me proudly as he watches the juice drips down my thighs down to my ankles. I received a spank from him and I yelped from the sharp pain.

“Spread your legs for me, good girl,” I was put atop of my working desk and he rolled the hem of the lilac dress above my chest and squeezed my other sensitivity with force. I bit the inside of my tongue and wailed in my mind.

“Aahhh goshh~ what the fuck, Yuu!” he spat thrice on my folds and drenched my entrance with it and I have to admit that for a second, I thought it would be a help me accommodate his size but I was wrong. He grown an inch and probably, it gotten fat also or it’s just me loosing the familiarity of his possession. My head bent backwards and the veins on my neck became visible when he goes all the way down to my cervix, bruising it with his thick and hard cap, “Yuuu hhnnggg~” I sobbed at first and then cried afterwards while struggling to push him through his toned abdomen.

But he grabbed my both hands and pinned them above my head while his other hand gripped my neck.

“Yuu... pleaseee aahnnggg~” I was tight and he’s huge and he’s half-choking, half-caressing my neck as he pulls slowly but push harder and deeper.

He seemed to lack of sympathy so he just chuckled over the pain I was feeling by having his length inside me.

“Please, drill deeper and faster? You don’t have to ask, babe~ I always go deeper and faster and harder to make a point and instill the fact that you’re fucking mine alone.” Another hard thrust entered my core and I let out a long wail of pleasure and pain. My legs were trembling really hard with each rough drill and Yuu just laughed it over. Resuming his merciless waves against my hips and there, I realised, I had no choice but to moan, cry and gasp his name. With those, he would reach his peak and I will get a break.

The shaking and moaning didn’t stop even after he reached his orgasm. He unloads his semen and injects his head deeper against my cervix. The first round ended with me crying and shaking and pushing him off.

“Yu–Yuu, pl–please pull out...” and he didn’t. He goes vastly in depth of the place he loves to ruin, “no way.” He says, smirking.

[smooshjames]

Promise?

smash bros, gay panic, and spicy cheese jell-o salad: the story of two women in love

word count: 4.4k

a/n: first courtney work and i gotta say, i’m extremely proud of this one. i hope i did the request justice! as always, here’s a link to my ko-fi if you want / are able to donate, which is, of course, never an obligation. whether you support me with your money or just with your eyes, i’m so grateful that you take the time to read my work, and i hope you enjoy!

warnings: some mild angst, mostly just gay panic and fluff, exceedingly dramatic descriptions of super smash bros gameplay

request: here

The first time you appeared as a guest on Smosh, they had you film a Try Not To Laugh. When that went over well with the fans, they invited you back for another. Then you appeared on a SmoshCast, and then an Eat It or Yeet It. And on it went. You became a staple to the community. You loved Smosh, though you declined to work there full time (you had enough of your own independent creative pursuits without adding on a full-time job, no matter how wonderful that full-time job might be).

But more than just the larger following and the fond memories that Smosh had gotten you, you also found quite a few good friends. You spent time with the Squad constantly, always going out to lunch or coffee, getting invited to dinner parties and other random hangouts, playing video games with Damien or talking with Sarah well into the night. Despite not officially working at Smosh, you had been accepted into the family, and you had come to consider the cast and crew as some of your closest friends.

All this to say that when Ian reached out to ask if you wanted to participate in a video for Smosh Games, you said yes without a second thought. It was a pretty casual video, just everyone sitting around and playing Smash Bros. There were two twists, one tamer than the other. The first was that everyone had to choose random characters, which was to prevent people who played the game a lot from picking their mains; it would provide some interest as people struggled to learn the mechanics of characters they didn’t usually play. The second twist was that at the end of each round, whoever won got to choose a punishment for whoever lost (losing, in this instance, defined as being the first person out). You settled on the familiar red couch with Courtney next to you and Shayne to her right. Damien, Keith, Noah, Matt, and Sarah settled in chairs around and behind you.

Shayne introduced the video and the rules, explained a few of the punishments that the winner would get to choose from (and that the loser would have to endure), and then the game began. Everyone hit the randomize button. Various groans of annoyance and/or cheers of pleasant surprise went up around you. Matt lucked out with Bowser, Shayne got Isabelle, Keith got Lucario. You had Villager, which you felt pretty neutral about.

Immediately, you set your sights on Courtney. Of everyone at Smosh, you were by far closest to her. The two of you had hit it off instantly and become fast friends. Though, much to your excitement and frustration, it sometimes seemed like she wanted it to be something more. The two of you were constantly flirting back and forth, veiled as teasing or just Friendly Complimenting. There was one incident that would be seared into your brain until the day you died: the time she had gotten a little too drunk at a party and leaned in to kiss you fully on the lips, but you’d been interrupted by Shayne before she could. You had fallen asleep in the same bed multiple times, for multiple reasons: the time she had called you after a bad breakup and you held her while she cried; the time you called her after a bad breakup; the time you’d been too drunk to make it home, so she’d invited you to stay the night at her place but neither of you wanted to make the other sleep on the couch so you just both slept on the bed. All things that could be explained away as close friendship (except maybe the almost kiss, but that was explained away with alcohol; you were pretty sure she didn’t even remember it). It wasn’t like you weren’t physical with your other friends. You’d cuddled with Sarah and held Shayne’s hand. But all that stuff felt way different when you did it with Courtney. With Courtney, it felt consequential, important.

Even now, having her next to you on the couch had your heart pounding in your chest. The couch was small (more a loveseat than anything), so her leg was pressed against yours from ankle to hip. Your arm kept brushing against hers as you played. You could smell the occasional whiff of her perfume.

You were in full, unadulterated gay panic.

But you also had a game to win. You weren’t a sore loser under normal circumstances, but one of the punishments involved drinking straight mayonnaise and you were not about to endure that. You knew you just had to outlast someone else, and you figured you could tease Courtney in the process. You went after her every opportunity you got, managing to knock her off twice.

The first round came to a close. Damien won and Noah lost. Damien chose to tweet something on Noah’s account, which Noah wasn’t allowed to delete or address; he just had to leave it up to let people speculate about it until the video came out. Damien strung together a bunch of non sequiturs that made exactly no sense, the group laughed, and the next round began.

In the second round, you went after Courtney yet again. It was fun to antagonize her; being as expressive as she was, she couldn’t keep a poker face, and she kept yelling unintelligible threats at you as her character plummeted off the side of the stage. As you laughed gleefully at her annoyance, you flashed back to the time in third grade when one of the boys wouldn’t stop pulling your hair on the playground. When you’d complained to your mother, she told you that he probably had a crush on you and didn’t know how to deal with it (she’d also told you to stand up for yourself, which led to you kicking the kid where the sun doesn't shine, which was a very interesting meeting between you, your teacher, and your mother; but that’s a story for another day).

Point being, you realized now how that kid had felt.

Once again, at the end of round two, you didn’t win or lose. You were perfectly content to run in the middle of the pack. In fact, until the last round, you were actively trying not to win. Your strategy for this game was going unnoticed. If you won too much, everyone would start to target you; if you lost too much, you’d have to deal with punishments.

By round three, you and Courtney were in a complete, unspoken war. The two of you ignored the other players as much as you possibly could, choosing instead to constantly pursue each other. She got a few hits in on you, but you were too good; months of playing with Damien and Shayne had prepared you for this moment. You knocked her off once, twice, three times. Your trash talk was louder and more constant than anyone else’s. Even Damien and Shayne weren’t ribbing each other as much as you and Courtney.

Round four went similarly. You knocked her off once, and then again. As her character fell into the abyss, she looked like she was sincerely considering putting her controller through the television screen.

God, you were in love with her.

“Y/N!” she said. You’d never heard such visceral exasperation. You went after her once again.

“What’s up?” you asked, voice light and breezy. It was a joke you’d picked up from Damien. You forced her character off the screen and she shouted so loud you were pretty sure passersby might’ve thought she was getting murdered.

“Quit it or I’ll bite!” she yelled. Shayne started laughing so hard that Noah managed to knock him off the stage while he was distracted.

Maybe it was the sheer adrenaline you felt as you turned to fight Keith, maybe it was the fact that you were so utterly love drunk, maybe you just weren’t really paying attention to what you were saying, maybe you were desperate for the last word. You weren’t sure why you said what you said next, but you sure as hell said it, and the room sure as hell went quiet when you did.

“Promise?”

There was a second, two seconds, three, of silence as everyone processed what you’d said. And then the room erupted in laughter and cheers. Meanwhile, on the screen, Keith beat you, and then Shayne beat him, and then Matt forced Shayne off the edge of the stage and was declared the winner of round four.

Sarah had lost, and as Matt doled out her punishment (drinking mayo, the one you’d been so staunchly against), you snuck a glance at Courtney. She was completely occupied with cheering Sarah on; she barely even noticed you looking at her. She didn’t seem particularly upset by what you’d said. In fact, she didn’t seem upset at all. It looked like she had just shrugged it off as a joke, which both relieved and disappointed you.

On the one hand, it was good that she hadn’t realized the deeper meaning behind your words — or, well. Word. Singular. If she had realized just how serious you were, your friendship might have gotten weird or awkward. You figured she didn’t like you back; if she had, she would’ve asked you out by now. You knew that Courtney wasn’t the type to stop being friends with someone just because of a crush, but you didn’t want her to think that your friendship with her had ulterior motives or anything like that.

On the other hand, you sort of wished she had taken it seriously. After all, she flirted back with you, and she initiated physical contact more often than you did. There had also been the infamous Almost Kiss Incident of 2019. It seemed like maybe, just maybe, there was something there. As much as you tried to rationalize it away, you couldn’t ignore the lingering touches, the tenderness she seemed to save for you and only you, the double entendres that came with a joking eyebrow waggle but a serious heat in her gaze. Maybe you needed to take the initiative.

So went the paradox you’d found yourself stuck inside of. It seemed like you had a good shot if you made the first move, but it might get weird if you were reading the signs wrong, which meant you did nothing, and maybe she took that as a signal that you weren’t interested, which meant she did nothing, which you took as a signal that she wasn’t interested, rinse and repeat.

Feelings were a complicated web and you were very close to throwing in the towel completely. Maybe you could fast forward to the inevitable spinster-slash-cat-lady days which seemed to be your destiny.

You forced yourself to stop thinking about it. Round five was starting, and round five had the biggest punishment of all, which meant you were really screwed if you lost. Plus, whenever you let yourself overanalyze your relationship with Courtney, you ended up with a migraine and exactly no progress on your game plan.

“Y/N,” she said as the round began, “let’s call a truce until it’s just us. And then we can settle this one on one.”

“Hm,” you said, pretending to think about it even as you turned away from her and started attacking Noah. “Tempting. But it sounds a little bit like you’re just trying to get me off your ass for a while since I’m so much better at Smash Bros than you.”

You heard someone (probably Damien) let out a low “oooo” from somewhere behind you. You were barely conscious of your surroundings. Your world had narrowed to the screen in front of you and the feeling of Courtney’s thigh pressed warmly against yours.

“No,” she said. She was fending off Shayne and Damien simultaneously, which was actually really impressive. Courtney was a good Smash player when you weren’t beating the shit out of her. You made a mental note to tease her about that later. “I just want to settle this without distraction. Then we’ll see who the better Smash player really is — damn it!” Shayne had gotten the better of her and knocked her off the stage.

“I’ll call a truce with you on one condition. If we both survive to the end of the game, whoever loses has to take the punishment.”

She considered. These were technically not the rules of the challenge: in the last four rounds, it had been that whoever died first had to take the punishment, rather than whoever died second-to-last. But you wanted to up the stakes, and hey, no one could say you didn’t know good television.

“Fine,” she said. Everyone else murmured their assent; it was better for them, anyway, since it basically guaranteed they wouldn’t have to take the punishment.

And it was settled. The two of you stayed away from each other. The game went on. After a few minutes, as you forced Keith off the edge for the third time, you realized that you and Courtney were the only two left. There was silence for a moment as you sized each other up in real life, both of your characters frozen in their respective places on the screen. All your friends were holding their breath.

You held your hand out to Courtney. “May the best woman win,” you said, and you meant it. She took your hand and shook it firmly, and you felt like the bones in your arm were melting as she did it. Even that simple touch was enough to have your heart pounding. Every nerve in your hand stood at attention. And as you pulled away, the feeling lingered like an electric shock.

The next few minutes were fraught with tension. You’d never fought harder in a Smash Bros game in your life. Courtney was fighting with a vengeance, and she was so good that you wondered for a moment if she’d been letting you win earlier. All of your trash talk ceased as the two of you focused on the game with the intensity of people whose lives were actually at stake. Your friends were forced to provide commentary as you and Courtney played silently, utterly focused, but you were barely hearing them. At one point, you felt Damien rubbing your shoulders and you were distantly aware of Shayne doing the same to Courtney, both of them talking in your ears like trainers at a boxing match. Matt was doing his best sports announcer imitation.

She killed you. You killed her. She killed you. The two of you were each down to one life. The playing field was completely even. Your fingers flew across your controller. You had broken an actual sweat.

And then, the unthinkable: Courtney, the underdog, forced you off the edge of the stage. The room erupted. Everyone was screaming, yourself included. It was absolute madness. Shayne grabbed Courtney’s wrist and held her hand in the air like the ref at the end of a match. Sarah and Matt were jumping around behind the couch. You were yelling things that even you couldn’t make sense of. Keith and Noah were scream-laughing and leaning on each other for support.

It took a solid couple minutes for everyone to settle down, and then it was time for your punishment, which had been kept a strict secret until this moment. Courtney didn’t get to choose anything. All anyone knew was that it was the worst of them all. Your heart was thundering from adrenaline and anticipation.

You knew you were in for a treat (in the worst possible sense of the word) when Garrett entered the room with a silver platter. You had a flashback to the ghost pepper pasta you’d been forced to eat on Eat It or Yeet It. Your heart dipped.

“No…” you said, more to yourself than anything. Everyone waited with bated breath as Garrett walked in and set the platter on the coffee table before you. You took a deep breath. You looked at the camera. “Well,” you said, “if this is what kills me, it’s been real.”

You uncovered the platter. It was a Jell-O salad, that much was clear. The smell had your stomach churning. It was indescribable, but if you had to try, you’d describe it as boys’ locker room with a side of wasabi. You picked up the fork and poked at it a little. You were pretty sure you heard Courtney gag as the smell hit her.

“Do I get a puke bucket?” you asked. You were actually kind of terrified for your digestive tract. A crew member walked out of the room and came back a few minutes later with the Eat It or Yeet It bucket. Fitting.

You got as much of the Jell-O salad onto your fork as you could and, with the bucket firmly in hand, put the bite in your mouth. You gagged, but persevered. Somehow, it tasted better than it smelled. That’s not to say it tasted good (it didn’t), just that the dirty sock smell got buried under the wasabi/ghost pepper/whatever spicy bullshit Garrett had found this week.

You swallowed, grimacing all the while, and opened your mouth for the cameras to see. Everyone clapped, you felt Keith put a hand on your shoulder, and Courtney began doing the outro for the video. She asked where the fans could find you. You plugged your Twitter and YouTube as usual. Someone brought you bread so you could drown out the spice in your mouth.

The cameras cut and you stood up, eager to stretch your legs after sitting on the couch for so long. “That was fun,” you said. Everyone agreed. Courtney stood up, nodded, and then made her way out of the room. Your heart dropped. You couldn’t help thinking it had something to do with you. Maybe she had been freaked out by your comment but just didn’t show it while you were recording. Maybe you’d hurt her feelings by singling her out throughout the game. Maybe the smell of your Jell-O salad had been so bad she needed a bathroom.

As you watched her go, Shayne sidled up next to you. “‘Promise?’” he asked in his best imitation of you, shit-eating grin on his face. You turned and slapped him on the arm.

Shayne knew about your crush. You’d been forced to tell him after he caught you in the middle of the Almost Kiss Incident. You had tried to play it off, say she was just drunk, say it didn’t mean anything to you, but Shayne was smart. He saw right through you. You had confessed your feelings. He’d been doing his best to help the two of you ever since, but he absolutely refused to tell you what he knew about how she felt; if she reciprocated your feelings and Shayne knew about it, he wasn’t letting you in on the secret. He insisted that it wasn’t his place to tell you one way or the other, which you respected as an adult and as his friend, but despised as someone stuck in romantic limbo.

“Shut up,” you muttered. You glanced back toward the door where Courtney had exited. “Did she seem upset to you?”

Shayne just shrugged. “Don’t know,” he said. And then he nudged your arm with his elbow and nodded pointedly toward the door. “I’m sure she’d tell you if you asked. You’re pretty much her best friend.”

“I don’t know…” you said. “What if it’s because of me?”

“Then she’ll tell you and you’ll talk it out like the grown women that you are.”

You bit your lip, debating. You knew he was right (Shayne, when he dropped all the bravado and the Comedy Man act, was seldom wrong).

“Go, Y/N,” he said.

You squared your shoulders and left the soundstage in search of Courtney.

You found her sifting through costumes on the Try Not to Laugh set. You knew that she came here sometimes to think of new bits and clear her head, so finding her now didn’t come as a surprise. You closed the door behind you and then knocked on it quietly to let her know you were there. She jumped, but relaxed when she realized it was you.

“Hey,” you said. Being alone with her had the butterflies in your stomach going haywire. “You ran off kinda fast after we wrapped the video. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

She nodded and turned back to the costume rack. Her hands were shaking slightly, that much you saw from your position by the door. You wanted to hug her, but given the events of the day, you weren’t sure if it was a good idea. You waited for her to say or do something; you decided you would let her lead.

Finally, she took in a sharp breath and turned to you. There was something utterly indescribable in her eyes, but whatever it was sent you overboard. You felt like you’d been launched into space without a helmet, screaming inaudibly, head about to explode from the pressure. The look on her face almost made your knees buckle; you had to grab the doorknob behind you to stay upright.

“Are we…” she stopped, took another breath, and started again. “Am I fucking insane for thinking that whatever we are, we’re more than friends? Because I keep getting it in my head that you look at me a little too fondly to just chalk it up to friendship. But every time I flirt or hold your hand or anything you just… you don’t seem into it like that. And I mean, even when I tried to kiss you — with the help of a little alcohol — it seemed like you were leaning away. But maybe I was just drunk. But after today, I mean… God! ‘Promise,’ Y/N, really? How the fuck am I supposed to take that? And the whole time we’re playing I’ve got your fucking leg up against mine distracting me.” She took a break to gulp in some air, but she was nowhere near finished, and you wouldn’t know what to say even if she was. “And no one else is willing to fucking help me! I know Shayne knows something but every time I ask he plays the It’s Not My Place card. Well what the fuck am I supposed to do with that! But it seems like you don’t want me, so I haven’t said anything because I don’t want to ruin what little of you I do have, so I just sit around feeling like I’m going into cardiac fucking arrest every time you’re near me but not being able to do anything about it!”

By the time she was finished, her shoulders were practically heaving with the effort. She looked close to tears. She was looking at you pleadingly now, terrified of what you might say.

Two equally inane realizations hit you in rapid succession. First, Shayne did know, the little shit; you were going to have words with him as soon as you were done here. Second, Courtney remembered the Almost Kiss Incident. You had assumed that she’d been so drunk she wouldn’t remember. That was part of the reason you’d leaned away; you weren’t sure if it was fueled by her actual desire to kiss you or just an alcohol-addled mistake, and you didn’t want to risk it being the latter.

Far more importantly, you realized how much time you’d both wasted on the same fear. Both of you walking on eggshells, afraid to say something because it seemed like the other didn’t feel the same way. The force of how monumentally idiotic you’d been knocked the air out of your lungs.

You debated how to go about resolving this. You knew one way or the other, you’d walk out of the room with a date scheduled. You considered just kissing her then and there; it would certainly convey all the words spiraling through your head. It would also be the romance movie thing to do. But you sort of felt like if you tried to walk you might pass out immediately. The doorknob was the only thing grounding you in reality.

“We’re both dumb as hell,” you said, finally. Not the most eloquent response to a declaration of love. She furrowed her brow. You hurried to elaborate, worried she would take it the wrong way. “I mean it’s been at least a year of both of us overanalyzing every time we so much as breathe in each other’s direction, and we’re just now confessing our mutual love. Kind of pathetic, if you think about it.”

Courtney laughed as she realized what you were saying. She made her way over to you, swearing as she almost tripped over the costume rack, and wrapped you in a massive hug. You buried your face in her neck, happy to finally have confirmation of the things you’d suspected for literal years.

You had a lot of time to make up for.

You pulled apart, though neither of you went very far. You were still in each other’s personal space, and it was taking a lot of brain power for you to speak coherent sentences when she was very much within kissing distance.

“How’s Saturday for you? Would dinner work?” you asked.

She grinned and nodded, and there was a moment where neither of you said anything, either too happy or too dumbfounded to speak.

“I’d like to kiss you now,” she said. “I know that’s not proper date etiquette, but I think we’ve wasted plenty of time.”

“Courtney, we’re far beyond first date,” you said. “If you leave this room without kissing me I’ll be so wounded, I don’t know if I’d be able to go on.”

She rolled her eyes at you but leaned in to kiss you anyway. It was perfect, everything you’d ever dreamed of and more. One of her hands was on your cheek, the other on your waist. When she pulled away, she made a face, and your heart plummeted.

“What?” you said, trying to keep your voice light despite your fear that she was disappointed with something. “Not good enough for you?”

“No, not at all. It was perfect except for one thing,” she replied.

You quirked a brow.

“You taste like spicy cheese Jell-O salad.”

[heli0s-writes]

I. Soulmate Series and Peculiar Pairs

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes Summary:  An introduction to the mystery of soulmates and love. You’re just another person lost in the world, trying to find yours.. until you give up. You meet some Avengers on the way. A/N: Part 1 of Mystery of Love.

The world had a very singular definition of soulmates: Two people, entwined by fate, perfectly right for each other, destined to meet and exist as one. The cosmos willed this. God willed it. The universe willed it. Whatever anyone’s religious or personal beliefs may be- there was a reply.

Children were told stories of their parents’ meeting and The Words they said to each other that sealed their future. These prophesized utterances would form onto their skin and scratch itself onto a special place in a script unique to that person’s handwriting. The lore of The Words were in every fairy tale and film. No wonder it had always been your dream to meet yours.

Your own parents met in Kindergarten, when your mother moved from Jersey to Manhattan because her father had been transferred to a higher position. He was hesitant at first, to leave their small city and large family behind, but changed his mind in early spring. The first day she set foot in her classroom, as she’d tell you over and over again, she was seated next to a chubby, freckled boy who shook her hand. With a firm grip, he yelled “Hello, beautiful!” and before she could respond, she had doubled over to scream.

When the teacher rushed over and your mother finally stopped crying, she’d lifted her paisley cotton shirt to see the askew “hEllo BEaUtiFul” letters circling her belly button. She pointed a finger to your father, blubbering uncontrollably, and yelled, “It’s you! You’re my soulmate!” and then it became his turn to double over.

The teacher called both their mothers and their mothers had taken them out of school for the rest of the day. They spent it in each other’s company, learning each other’s names, playing, eating ice-cream, and then took a nap, pinkies touching. They were inseparable ever since.

At age 4, it was your favorite story, and you wanted to hear it every night before bed. Your parents were the essence of perfection: your mother’s hair was always impeccable, your father’s shirt was always pressed, and they always kissed at the door when he’d leave for work.

At age 6, you began to wonder about your own soulmate. “Does it hurt very bad, mama?” “Why haven’t I met him yet?” “What if he’s mean to me?” “What if he moves away, mama?”

Your mother always assured you that it was meant to be. You were designed to be loved. The universe would never, ever, leave anyone out. Soulmates were destiny, and destiny was final. You were pleased with the answers she provided, and happy to hear them every time she reminded you.

At age 8, you’d forgotten all about soulmates. Boys were meant to be chased away on the playground, wrestled with in the grass, beaten in a game of soccer. Girls were your confidants, your sisters, who’d braid your hair and dance with you through the living room. Soulmates were for adults, and more than that, you were afraid of the pain of someone’s Words carving into your skin. There were rumors of 5th graders who found their soulmate in the fall, but they were big kids and you put off thinking about it for many years and stopped asking questions.

At age 14, it was no longer something you could ignore. Many girls were going through changes, some had looked like they were already finished, while you had barely started. Boys changed too. Everyone began to notice each other. And you began to notice yourself in this extant space. High school was extremely daunting, and on your first day, you promised yourself that you’d find your soulmate in this large campus.

Some juniors who had soulmates were already married with their parents’ eager approval. There was a club dedicated to meeting as many students in the school as possible to find your soulmate. On Thursday mornings they held “speed-meeting” sessions where one side held a notecard that said, “You are mine” and the other side, “I am yours” there were many variations that were available such as, “You are the light of my life” or “I’ll love you forever”.

You tried many times, afraid that if your soulmate was a senior and they graduated this year, you’d have to wait forever to meet them. After December, it was taking a toll on your heart. All of those sessions of sitting down and staring into the eyes of new started out exciting, but slowly turned banal and drove you into melancholy. Being bound to one person was supposed to be magical, but the recurring meetings felt disingenuous. You didn’t want to meet your soulmate in a sterilized setting, reading a notecard of words that were not from your heart.

Around winter vacation, you were so despondent and anxious that it began to manifest in severe and constant stomach pains. Your parents began to discuss the possibility of counseling. You refused them, afraid that you’d be labelled as a lovelorn freak for the rest of your life. They did relent, and instead gave you a very nice digital camera for Christmas, hoping it could be a hobby to distract you from your worries. Your very first picture was of your parents under the Christmas tree. Your second picture was of their Words, side by side. It took five months for your spasms to ease.

In your later teens, you began to branch out in earnest to find that person. You had worked as a hostess during senior year to maximize your chance of meeting someone, and even landed a barista job at one of the busiest cafés in Manhattan your freshman year of college at a small conservative university. You joined a sorority and lost count of all the events you’d attend and all the fraternity boys you’d met during that year. It was too much, in the end, you were focused on your studies and couldn’t stand another year in that tiny white picket-fence house always reeking of hairspray and Victoria Secret body mist.

You continued taking photographs and enrolled in art classes the following year. You had won a small scholarship and the funds went into a new professional camera. Mid-sophomore year, you quit your job at the café and began to take pictures for the University’s paper, penning food and entertainment columns here and there, primarily about your local college town. You submitted in group exhibitions and struggled to balance classes, a job, and your own inquiries of love. Most of your friends had met their soulmates, and when your roommate came home breathless, freshly inked in beautiful cursive script, and screamed, “It’s a girl!!”, you broke down.

You had never thought of the possibility of being with a woman. But what if the universe decided that it was? Could you love a woman, like that? You spent the rest of the weekend curled up in bed, ill with stomachaches, questioning everything you knew about yourself and your capacity to love.

You called home to ask your mother, “What if my soulmate is a woman?” and the audible gasp on the other line confirmed the feeling in your gut. You weren’t done yet. “What if my soulmate is a hundred and ten on his deathbed? What if he’s a murderer? What if… god forbid, a child?” the tears wouldn’t stop. You were hysterical. You no longer searched for “the one”.

Junior year, you spent a brief fall session abroad in Italy. It was a small group of 5 with one of your favorite professors and you were free to explore your own body of work in your specialty. This was the perfect opportunity to build your portfolio with historic sites and modern culture. Italy was beautiful, romantic, and being there felt like a dream. One of your cohort members met her soulmate while asking him for permission to sketch his picture. He was a green-eyed man with dark, curly hair swept in a low ponytail. Her Words appeared on his arm, “Excuse me! Do you mind?”

And his Words, “Non parlo inglese” Meaning, “I do not speak English”

After their shock subsided, they shared a laugh and you took their picture together, matching tender forearms side-by-side.

As intended, you didn’t find your soulmate in Italy, either. But you did find a spark. The whole soulmate business was breeding so many questions that were turning into criticisms inside you. The picture of your friend in Italy started churning the gears of your body of work. You began to seek out silly or strange First Words to photograph, and at the end of your spring semester, you held a solo exhibition back home. It was a smash and featured in the local paper on page 5. Soon after, it became viral on the internet.

Reviews raved about the humor of your photographs (one set of First Words read, “You think I’m cute, huh” and “You’re a fucking nightmare-boy”. Another, “Bless you” and “That wasn’t a sneeze” your personal favorite, "Give me your wallet" and "Oh hell no").

People were alarmed at some of the less traditional pairs you found: differing intense religious beliefs (Roman Catholic, and Satanist), age-disparity (15 year gap between them), familial relations (they were first-cousins), those encumbered by illness (one had been in a coma for 5 years), and something that was so rare you’d only read about it happening twice, ever: multiple soulmates.

In that particular case, you had put an advertisement online and received an e-mail that night from someone who wanted to refer you to their uncle and his family. You went the next morning to Prospect Park and met John and his soulmates Francis and Marilynn. You spent three hours with them that day. The photos you took were beyond lovely.

In senior year, you had a portfolio that was known world-wide. You were receiving so many e-mails a day about photo opportunities that your business address bounced back at least twice a week for 24 hours. Most of them were very desperate calls for attention, struggles for their 15 seconds of fame, you rarely had the time (or patience) to give an e-mail a second look. You put that body of work on hold, but still opened an online store to sell prints and gave the occasional phone interview. Between that and the various photography jobs you received elsewhere, you were self-sufficient and hardly struggled. You lived in a one-bedroom apartment and looked forward to travelling in the U.S. after college.

It was winter of senior year when you received a message in your personal e-mail that caught you by surprise. It was from Pepper Potts. The Pepper Potts. You were holed up cozily during a blizzard and almost spilled your tea in your lap. It was an invitation for you to visit Stark Tower headquarters, take a few pictures, and go home. The way she worded it was extremely delicate, making sure to flatter your work but also very strictly state the terms of agreement. She made sure to mention that you would be paid generously, of course.

When the snow melted, you made your journey, camera bag across your chest.

At age 20, you met Iron Man, Tony Stark, self-proclaimed billionaire, philanthropist, playboy, genius. You also met Natasha Romanoff, also known as Black Widow.

Ms. Potts had met you at the door, opening it and extending her hand. She immediately thanked you for coming in the cold and praised your photographs. It surprised you when she admitted that as famous as your Soulmate Series was, she was more intrigued by the tenderness of the candid shots you routinely represented in your work, not your actual choice of subject. She had also done some research and found various college articles where you took pictures of local businesses and restaurants. “The intimacy that you captured of the most mundane of places… they were beautiful. I knew you were the person I wanted.” You laughed about your naiveite in those days, being only a newbie at photography, but Ms. Potts shushed you.

She led you to a conference room and slid a contract in front of you, asking for your patience and understanding at the long document. After the end of nearly an hour and a half of reviewing, questioning, and a sneaky interview process, you were ready to begin. A lanyard was placed in your hand with your picture and a keycode, giving you access to certain floors of the building.

The contract was complicated, but it boiled down to this: You were hired by Stark Industries to photograph their employees (and future employees) as well as any floor you had access to. It was your job to deliver simple and tasteful photos to represent the Stark image. You understood it to mean that your job was to create a cult of personality for Stark Industries somewhere in the realm of capable, trustworthy, and familiar- as if these people could be your close friends. The contract spanned a 30-day period where you were able to enter the tower at your leisure and convenience, wander as you wished, ask any questions you may have, and ultimately submit a binder of no less than 50 pictures with your detailed notes (including personal opinion on each photo).

Ms. Potts strongly suggested that if this assignment went well, she had high hopes for your future at Stark Industries. She kept her promise and continued to reach out to you about assignments.

At 21, almost immediately after your graduation, you met Thor, Hawkeye, and Dr. Banner- you prayed you would never meet his other half. That same year, you also met him.

Captain America. Every child in America knew about Steve Rogers. When news leaked that his body had been found frozen and that he was living in New York, it stunned you. He was a (newly) living (dead?!) legend; the idea of him was too much. When it dawned on you that you would be photographing him, you immediately threw up.

You would never forget that day. Your stomach hurt all night. It hadn’t done that since you were a child.

When you entered Stark Tower- you were too nervous to even notice that it had been transformed to the newly dubbed Avengers Tower. You rode the elevator up to the conference room where you scheduled to meet Ms. Potts, but Mr. Stark was there instead. Next to him, was the unmistakable physique of Captain Rogers. Your stomach twisted itself into a pretzel and you had to suck in a deep breath to continue walking upright.

You were so nervous that when Stark asked you for the umpteenth time to please call him Tony, you nearly twisted your ankle by mis-stepping. Sadly for him, you wouldn’t utter his first name for another few years. Captain Rogers had narrowed his eyes at you and the camera bag hanging limply on your hip. You could not stop trembling under his scrutiny. Even Tony offered you a drink to take the edge off.

Finally, he spoke.

“Good morning,” he said quietly, giving you a gentle nod.

You didn’t stop to look as you bolted out of the conference room and down the hall. As soon as you reached the toilet, you threw up.

The bile and acid that burned a path up your throat lingered all day and flared constantly in Captain Rogers’ presence. Your chest burned like a blaze. He in turn, gave you inspecting, worried glances and never tried to come any closer than 10 feet. You thanked him silently from across rooms and hallways. Mr. Stark joked that the best candid moments with Captain Rogers were in the showers, but if you kept getting sick like that, you’ll never get a chance. Your stomach did not appreciate the insinuation whatsoever.

Ms. Potts was infinitely more helpful. She sent you down to the infirmary but they could find nothing wrong with you. The nurse helping you, however, did notice that you had suddenly formed a bright pink rash right in the middle of your chest after watching you nervously rub your torso.

You thought nothing more of it, and by the time you got home, it had vanished.

The contract Ms. Potts emailed you that night detailed the next assignment, and upon completion, you would be paid 20 thousand dollars, more than double the amounts you’d previously received. Her postscript thanked you for your hard work with the Avengers, specifically, your patience with Tony and his constant quips, but that she wanted you to take some time to yourself and explore the world. Twenty-one, she said, was a tremendously important year for young women, and that she hoped to see more of your photography that was special to you, rather than necessary to her.

That night, you broke your apartment lease and made plans to travel at the end of the month. For the next 30 days, you took some of the best photos you had ever taken of the Avengers. However, you deeply regretted every photo you took of Captain Rogers. They were never as detailed or intimate as any of the rest. He was always either in a group setting, or far off, jogging, training, perhaps reading a book… across the kitchen, on the other side of a window.

You were afraid of him. Or rather, you were afraid of how your body reacted to him. From time to time, you’d see him look at you apologetically, which made it a million times worse.

After your assignment was finished and the rest of the payment was deposited in your account, you sold your furniture and packed two bags. For the two years, you spent time in Thailand, Russia, Italy, New Zealand, Saudi Arabia, and even a few icy weeks visiting the Arctic.

Once again, you picked up your Soulmates Series. This time you solely focused on what you lovingly called peculiar pairs.

In Thailand, you found a pair of non-gender conforming soulmates who lived in a large community of entirely non gender conforming people. Most of the country itself was extremely accepting and kindhearted, something that pained you to think about in regard to your own home. You learned so much about sexuality and identity in your time with them, and at the end of your trip, you felt entirely changed about your perspective on what it was to be male and female- and whether or not it actually mattered!

In Russia, you met two people who identified as asexual- one being intersex. On the day you met, he identified as male and wore trousers and ordered the strongest coffee you had ever tasted. The next day, you hardly recognized him in a lavender gown, and were surprised and happily obliged when he asked you to use feminine pronouns. Upon your departure, he was back again in trousers and let you use masculine pronouns in your writing. It broke your heart to learn about their struggle in a country that shunned and viewed them with contempt.

Your travels brought you to many identities and many facets of love. There were couples who never engaged in romantic activity, but cherished each other more than you’d ever felt from another soul. There were others still who’s lives were kept secret from their families and their society, at large. There was a household in Italy with a husband and wife, not soulmates, living with another man, whose soulmate had been the husband. They met by chance on the train. The wife was 7 months along, and there was incredible tension under their roof. Most days, they made it fine, some days, she expressed to you, she couldn’t help but fall asleep crying.

Sometimes, you would meet soulmates that made you truly question the work. These pairs haunted you.

In New Zealand, a man was 65 when he met his soulmate; he had waited all his life. She was a young volunteer at the day care center where he worked. He thought she would reject him because of their age difference, but she loved him. They spent one blissful day together. The next day, she was involved in a fatal accident on her way to work. You sat in silence in his living room as he held onto a picture of her and sobbed.

At the end of your travels, departing from Saudi Arabia, your heart was full of grief about soulmates. The last pair you visited was in a dimly lit home, where the husband smoked profusely, and you could not see his wife until the very end. When she came into the light, her eyes were both blackened, and she could not speak due to the stitches in her mouth.

Returning to Manhattan, at age 23, you had given up on not only your own soulmate, but all soulmate indoctrination. Your heart was hardened by the knowledge that predestiny could usher in such suffering, and that love could be so terrible. You began to resist.

Next Chapter

[mankai-onlyfans]

if at first you don't succeed - (BanJu)

"Okay, everyone settle down." Izumi's voice somehow manages to quiet the clamor that had erupted the minute that Juza and Banri walked into the practice room.

The rest of the company is all there, under Sakyo's orders, a (mostly) captive audience waiting to see the events of the evening unfold.

The actors are all sitting, arranged in a ring around the edge of the room. A few of them chatter to each other as their director reviews her notes.

"So tonight will be a special practice. We'll be rehearsing a scene with Juza and Banri, which will be filmed and posted at the end of the session."

At these words, more chatter breaks out form the crew, each of them speculating about the elephant in the room.

Sakuya raises his hand.

"Yes, Sakuya?" Izumi points to him briefly with her pencil.

"Isn't it also special because it's a kiss scene?" He asks, his eyes alight with excitement, completely unaware of how much rage those simple words ignite in his fellow leader and star of the scene.

Izumi sighs a little wearily, only imagining the level of difficulty that this rehearsal will bring. "Yes, Sakuya. That's also special."

"Learning how to kiss someone for a scene is nothing to be ashamed of," Tsumugi chimes in. "It's an important skill for a well-rounded actor to have."

Sakyo nods in approval. "Not only that, but getting into the mindset of a character with a different orientation than yourself is an excellent test of both skill and character." He shoots a sharp look in Banri's direction. "All characters should be played with care and intention, but stories of representation are especially important."

Sakyo looks around at all the faces of the budding actors around him. "You never know who might become strengthened by your performance. Someone may take away a feeling of belonging where before they felt isolated." He adjusts his glasses matter of factly. "Our job is to touch the hearts of our audience. If we can achieve that, then we know that the perfomance was a success."

At this, he looks to Banri again. "You will have not only us as your audience, but all of our fans as well. They will all be observing your performance, from all walks of life. You need to touch their hearts and put on a respectful and convincing performance."

With this, he walks around to sit beside Izumi, observing both Banri and Juza carefully. "You'll need to stretch that muscle of empathy that's been left dormant for so long, Settsu."

Banri grits his teeth. He's already sick of this scene, and they haven't even started yet.

"Thank you, Sakyo. Tsuzuru, could you give them their scripts?" Izumi asks, beginning a header for her notes.

Tsuzuru gladly obliges, and begins to explain the premise. "So, this scene is about rogue space travellers, who are harbouring secret feelings for one another. When their ship starts to have problems, it gives them an opportunity to confess."

Juza and Banri both flip through the script. Banri cringes as he reads the dialogue. This is what he's supposed to say to Hyodo? Ugh. This stuff is so sappy. The last lines nearly make him gag. 'We're a constellation?' Why doesn't someone just put him out of his misery?

He looks over to catch a glimpse of Hyodo's reaction, but he's stoic as ever. Juza nods once or twice. He doesn't seem fazed by the dialogue at all. "My character is part cyborg?" He asks Tsuzuru, who nods.

"Yeah, Tim covers the technical parts of the ship." He explains, then glances to Banri. "And Jal covers the mechanical parts. He ran a repair shop on their home planet, so he's good at fixing things."

Banri gives a huff in response.

Izumi claps her hands. "Alright, guys. Let's get rolling!"

The practice goes off without a hitch. Both Banri and Juza are inspired to beat each other at acting, and Banri for one is determined to not lose his cool.

However, as the kiss scene approaches, he feels his palms begin to sweat. How is he supposed to kiss Hyodo? Let alone in front of all these people?

He's so distracted that he misses his line.

"My bad," he mutters, flipping through the script to find his place.

"You're overthinking it." Sakyo says.

Banri rolls his eyes. A big load of help Sakyo is being by pointing it out.

They try again, and this time they make it right up to the line with the kiss. Banri is supposed to initiate it. It's supposed to be passionate.

But he just can't muster the motivation. His lips end up smashed against Hyodo's in nothing that resembles a kiss, pinching his own lip painfully in the process.

"Stop," Izumi rubs at her temples, assessing how best to help them.

Banri can hear a few of their audience members snickering, but a glare from Sakyo shuts them up quickly.

"Okay, we made contact. That was good," she starts out. "But it felt way too forced. Literally." She sighs. "This is a tender scene of their first confession. The kiss should carry the energy and mood leading up to it."

Juza nods. He seems completely unperturbed, and if anything, a little annoyed at Banri for not getting it right.

Banri's hackles raise, his irritation growing at Hyodo's lack of reaction. This is embarrassing! Isn't he embarrassed?

They try again. The lines leading up to the kiss. Banri grabs Juza's arms. Juza touches Banri's cheek.

Banri turns bright red.

He breaks away from their intimate position, covering his face with his arm. "Dammit... can we take five?"

Sakyo makes a noise of irritation, but Izumi grants him the break.

Banri stalks off down the hall to the lounge. He needs a drink of water. Some fresh air.

He doesn't get much alone time, as Hyodo had followed him out.

"What do you want?" Banri asks, clutching his water bottle almost defensively.

Juza stares at him. "I don't think you're gay."

Banri laughs out of sheer surprise. He's bringing this up now? "Gee, thanks pal." He rolls his eyes and is about to brush past him, when Juza grabs his arm.

"But people who know who they are, one hundred percent? Shit like this doesn't faze them." He says. There's no malice in his tone.

Banri stares back at him. "The hell's that supposed to mean?"

Juza looks down at the floor and lets go of Banri's arm. "Just... feelin like you're supposed to feel certain ways about things or that you have to feel certain things... it's limiting." Juza meets his eyes. "Don't limit yourself, Settsu."

Determination is laced throughout his golden eyes. "You're better than that."

Banri doesn't know what to make of this.

He falls back on his reliable method of teasing. "Careful Hyodo, you're starting to sound like you give a shit about me."

"Not a chance." Juza growls, though there's a slight smile on his face.

Banri smirks in return.

Next time they resume practice, the kiss goes off without a hitch. They even go on a bit longer than necessary, much to Azuma's amusement. They're able to record the video in one take, which Izumi is eternally grateful for, and Sakyo deems this punishment a constructive success.

Banri finds himself thinking about his character later that night, while lying in bed.

If he and Hyodo were trapped in space, how would they survive together? Would they grow closer? Would he feel differently about him than he does now?

When he realizes what he's thinking, he snorts at himself for being stupid. Hypothetical space travel doesn't affect his real life.

But in the darkness of their room that night, he swears that he can hear Juza mutter "Goodnight Jal" before drifting off to sleep.

He thinks they could make it.

[watchingminecraftyansim]

Post 5 - Late Again

Hi, I’m Isabelle, and only one post this week, because I do not feel well, physically, I mean. emotionally and mentally I’m fine. Anyways let’s get onto talking about episode #6 of Yandere High School by SamGladiator

This episode starts out where the last one left off, with lunch ending and the students heading towards gym class. Here Rowan says that the students will be getting a field day, because he gets a bonus if the students don’t exercise that day, and while I’m no expert, I think having students not exercise is the opposite of the job of a P.E. teacher. Everyone then goes and plays outside on a playground that wasn’t there yesterday, Taurtis goes down a slide and falls off half way down. JtsTheDane says that “This is like falling down the mountains in Sweden.”, there is a lot of things I find wrong with this statement, first of all, his name has Dane in it, not Swede, second the Jotunheim Mountains, are primarily in Norway, and it’s true that some of them are in Sweden, some of the Rocky Mountains are in Canada, but they are usually thought of as an American thing. Plus they already mentioned him being from Norway previously, was it THAT HARD to say Norway instead of Sweden? Have I gotten to worked up about a small anachronism in a Minecraft roleplaying series? Yes, most likely. Moving on from my geography rant, we meet Salex, someone who starts flirting with Taurtis the instant she lays eyes on him. I mean… you do you ma’am. We also get the obligatory Invader flirts with Sam, Sam finds it gross, I comment on how it’s because of the beard and make snarky comments about how that’s not cool, we’ve done this song and dance before, you know how it goes. A funny bit from this episode is everyone jumping on one side of a seesaw that doesn’t work, because it’s minecraft, to try and lift PowerDragon. There’s no plot relevance to this bit, I just chuckled every time I saw it in the background of the video. Taurtis manages to get Salex’s number and Sam suggests a double date, with him and Sookie as the couple despite the fact that he and Sookie are not dating. A fact when Taurtis asks Sookie if she and Sam are dating, and she honestly just seems confused, along with saying Invader can have him when she threatens to fight her over who can have Sam. Sam punches Invader at one point and Rowan fucking decks Sam because he will not stand for abuse. We then see Jay and Gareth in the “Kissing Shed ;)”, and it doesn’t look like they are kissing, but rather Jay is just sitting in the shed while Gareth smokes some weed in the corner. Taurtis and Sam then go to do hopscotch, but not before Taurtis gets himself stuck in a soccer net and get punched out of it by Rowan. Sam then proves to be unexpectedly good at hop scotch, skipping 8 blocks, with the help of being punched. After some more hopscotch related shenanigans we see J stuck at the top of a tower of sand, and Sam punching the sand to get him down. After this Sam and Taurtis discuss ideas for movies to see on their double date, eventually settling on Bee Movie, with Sam stating that he hates Paul Blart Mall Cop, and Rowan states that he loves Bee Movie and that he will go along with the kids. Sam then decides to ask Sookie out for the double date and it goes well, with him rambling and messing up his talking to her, so overall an 8/10 on the asking her out, I wouldn’t have done much better.

After this Sam comes up with the idea for the scam of the century, where he and Taurtis race, and everyone bets on Taurtis and then Taurtis wins and they split the money. Their words not mine. Either Sam or I don’t know how betting works, because I am confused about how this would work Rowan races Taurtis instead and beats him by a lot, but no one really counts that. Then the proper betting on the Sam Vs. Taurtis race commences, with sam taking the bet money, and then a rain storm starts, and Sam pockets the betting money, cancelling the race due to rain, saying that it will happen tomorrow. Will it happen? Probably not, Sam likely hustled the whole school. Everyone heads back inside, but Jay ventures outside for a minute in the rain and gets struck by lightning, but school ends before they can get him to the nurse’s office (side note, does this school even have a nurse? They ask this in the show and don’t get an answer), so Rowan just kicks them out with Jay jumping off of the school’s upper floor balcony followed by Taurtis. Sam and Taurtis then head to Jay’s house along with ChanYandere for Manga club, and Sam keeps calling them comic books. On the way we see teacher Gareth sitting in the middle of the road, can someone like, check on him? He’s obviously not doing well. We then get to Jay’s house and he has made a miraculous recovery after having roughly 1.21 gigawatts of power delivered directly to his nervous system. We then get to see everyone in the manga club, there’s Invader, a couple other people, and the best character in this series, Jts, who is making food for everyone. We then see Rowan staring at the manga club from across the street in his apartment. We also see Jay’s cat, who is being loud, in order to quiet him down Taurtis feeds him cat meat, I don’t have any funny comments here, just take it in. Invader says that HunterXHunter is her favorite mango. Jts finally finishes what he was cooking, Rabbit stew, and gives some to everyone, Sam is understandably upset by this, but before we can get too deep into that the manga club transforms into the Hot Wheels® Club. Invader gives Sam a Hot Wheels® car, and they abandon talking about Manga in favor of playing with their Hot Wheels®. ChanYandere does not seem impressed by this.

Taurtis and Sam notice Rowan still watching them from his balcony, and tell him to stop staring at them and to watch his TV. Rowan’s response is that he wants to watch the Bee Movie. We also see Gareth in Rowan’s apartment, who had come over to watch Paul Blart. Sam says they should sneak over there to watch it, and when questioned by Taurtis, asking that he thought Sam hated Paul Blart, he responds that he likes sneaking around and doing illegal stuff. Taurtis jumps off Jay’s balcony to get to the sidewalk, while Sam takes the stairs and the two start to sneak into an apartment. Notice I said an apartment, because it is not Rowan’s. They soon realize their mistake and make their way up to Rowan’s apartment, and instead of sneaking in they ring the doorbell and ask to be let in. While they’re doing that Gareth states that he got the wrong film, and instead got the Spanish dub of the Minion Movie, which I would argue is worse than Paul Blart, all things considered, even if Gareth considers it his favorite anime. We also then realize the TV is in Rowan’s bedroom so they would all have to squeeze into there to watch it, so then they make their excuses and leave, stating that they are going on a double date. Rowan tells the boys to go pursue their love shouting “#Invadater”. It is then revealed that the apartment they went in accidentally was Invaders and when Sam asks Taurtis to come up with an excuse he says that sam wanted to panty raid her, to which invader responds with “;)”. Whatever floats her boat I guess. They then go home and play Smash Bros Melee, with Taurtis saying he mains Meta Knight, even though he was added to the franchise in Brawl, I swear it’s like they didn’t even google these small likely improvised bits before they said them. 

And that was the end of the episode. Also I wanted to mention but could never find a good place for it, but there was random cuts in the episode, as well as Taurtis’ mic quality just going down the toilet before returning to normal. I mean, it’s fine I just found it weird. Tune in next week where hopefully I post twice instead of once.

[niall-is-my-dream]

Lost Without You - Part Five

3530 words

Your back was pressed against the door to your dorm, but the goosebumps all over your body were caused by one thing only, Niall. His hands gripped your bum as he fucked you, the door rattling with every thrust.

When you'd opened the main door to him you couldn't hide your excitement, you'd both practically ran up the stairs to your room. Rushed misplaced kisses as you took each step, desperate to be alone together after more than three weeks apart. You pulled off his jacket before you'd even reached your room, his t-shirt before the door was even closed. 

Undoing the button on his jeans and pulling them to his ankles you'd planned to take him in your mouth, but Niall had other ideas.

"Need ya petal, need to be inside ya." His voice pained by frustration.

You pulled your t-shirt off and stepped out of your shorts and underwear all whilst Niall was touching and kissing every inch of your skin. His hands fell to your waist, thinking he was going to guide you to your bed, you gasped when he bent his knees and picked you up. Lining himself up, both of you moaned and sighed as he filled you up. His face fell to between your breast and he nipped and sucked at your nipples as you tugged at his hair.

"Hmmm missed you so fucking much." He said his breath haggered.

You panted out his name as he pounded into you, pulling his face up to yours you kissed him with everything you had.

Both of you came undone at the same time, you threw your head back against the door breaking your kiss. Niall leaned his head into the crook of your neck and he thrust a few more times until he was completely spent.

There was no noise in the room except for the breathless sounds of you both panting. Catching his breath he leaned across and captured your lips in his, a soft kiss that made you smile against his mouth.

"I missed you too." You finally replied.

Neither of you bothered getting dressed, instead you climbed into your bed and cuddled up to each other. Although you had messaged every day, you still spent the next few hours talking about what you'd been up to the last three weeks.

 "Can't even begin to tell you how jealous I was about you going to see Wild Youth." He said as he pulled you closer to him.

 "Must be rubbish missing out on your friends gigs and stuff."

 "Yeah it is, but I was more worried about you and the lads, didn't want any of them to be flirting with you."

 "Well one of them did, but I managed to brush him off."

 "Which one?!" He said as he sat up slightly leaning on his elbow.

 "I'm not telling you that."

 "I'll ask Conor."

 "Who said it wasn't Conor?!" You smirked.

 "I'll kill him." He smirked back.

 "No, it wasn't him. Just someone from their team. It was nothing." 

You joked around a little bit more before your innocent little kisses that had been shared during your time in bed turned to more. Taking things slower this time, you lazily rode him as he gripped your hips with one hand and rubbed your clit with the other. After coming twice, the last time together you collapsed on the bed, both of you falling asleep.

Since you'd had your final exam last week, you didn't have anymore classes to attend. Most people were slowly packing up and making their way home for the summer. You had got another few weeks before you needed to leave your dorm and you planned on working a few more shifts at the pub and at Audreys before moving into the flat that she had offered you.

Your interview was in less than two days time and you didn't plan on going anywhere far from your bed until then. Niall had got a free week and you had both planned to spend it together.

When you woke up from your nap a few hours later, Niall was already awake scrolling through his phone.

"Hey sleepy head." He said as he kissed you.

"Hey."

"Wanna go out and grab some dinner with me?"

"Mmmm sounds good." You replied.

"It's only 4 so we've got some time." He said as he moved to hover over you. "Think I have enough time for a little snack."

You laughed at his awful joke, but as he made his way down your body leaving little kisses across your skin your laughter turned to moans.

*******

"So I was thinking." Niall said as he pulled up his jeans. "Do you maybe want to spend a few days at mine? There's a pool in my building that we could use and stuff. Your interview isn't until Thursday afternoon right?"

It was Tuesday today and because of your interview being at 2pm on Thursday you weren't working at the bar that night. You weren't even in until Friday evening at 5pm. When you told Niall all this his face broke out into a smile.

"Good. Means I can cook you dinner, spoil you a little bit. Can even go over your interview practice if you like, Willie would be good at that actually. So what do you say?"

"I'd love to. But if you get sick of me then just say and I'll come back here."

"I don't think that'll happen Emma, I'll be begging you to stay longer." He said smiling.

********

You were fully aware that Niall was famous and with that quite wealthy, but you weren't prepared by just how much. He certainly didn't come across as being filthy rich, Niall couldn't be more humble and down to earth. He had happily sat in your dorm eating Chinese food and watching films on Netflix via your laptop. When he'd been at yours that first time discussing your degree in Interior Design, he had shown you pictures of his flat. But walking into it was entirely different.

"Wow! This place is beautiful!" You said unable to stop yourself. You continued babbling on about the features of the room, colours and soft furnishings. Niall couldn't contain his laughter and it caused you to pause your pacing of his living room and turn to him.

"You're adorable." He said.

"You're making fun of me!"

"No I'm not, I mean it. Love how passionate you are, you're going to smash that interview."

Niall gave you a tour of his flat and your mouth dropped when you walked into his closet. Rows upon rows of clothes, suit bags with Paul Smith logos on them and endless jackets and t-shirts.

"Here, hang your interview stuff here. Don't want it getting creased." He said as he moved a few items along the risk to give you some space. "What?"

"Nothing, just taking it all in you rich bastard!" You said jokingly.

"Fuck off!" He said laughing back. "Do we need to have the conversation again about doing as you're told and calling me Daddy, because we can?!"

 You stood there, mouth wide open at his words.

"Fuck, I want that but my stomach hasn't stopped rumbling since we left my dorm!" You replied.

"Maybe later then, come on let's go get something to eat." He smirked, knowing just how much he had got to you.

*******

Niall's bed was definitely more comfy than yours. A new bed was actually one of the many things you needed to buy before you moved into the flat above The Cosy Coffee Corner. The one at your dorm wasn't yours, the only items of furniture you had was your arm chair and your bedside table, plus kitchen stuff. You would definitely need to make a trip to Ikea in the next week.

Because his bed was so comfy you woke up that Wednesday morning at 11:30. Your long sleep might have been helped by the fact that you and Niall had indulged yourself with pizza and wine the night before at this amazing Italian place that he knew.

Niall was still happily snoring when you woke up and as much as you wanted to stay snuggled with him, you were desperate for a wee. Deciding to not use the ensuite, worrying that you would disturb him. You threw on some pjs and made your way out to the main bathroom. After doing your thing you decided to head to the kitchen and search for the coffee.

Of course Niall had a fancy coffee maker, but being the best barista in Battersea you figured it out and were soon sipping on a cup and admiring the view from his kitchen window of the London skyline.

"Hey, what are you doing?" He asked startling you.

"Fuck, you scared me!" You replied clutching your hand over your chest.

"Sorry love." He replied laughing, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. "But what are you doing? I wanted to make you breakfast in bed."

"Bit late for that Niall, it almost noon!" You replied leaning into his touch.

"Ok, I'll make you brunch."

You sat at his kitchen table sipping your cup of coffee while he cooked at the stove. Wearing just a pair of black Calvin Klein's you were happily enjoying the view. 

Fuck he was absolute perfection. His back was beautiful, are backs actually beautiful? Well his was. You could feel your self swooning as you sat and gazed at him as he chatted away to you.

"Emma.... ?"

"What?"

"Did you hear what I said?" He asked, a smirk on his face. You knew he'd caught you staring. Time to come clean to the cheeky shit.

"I was paying zero attention to what you were saying, I was too busy checking you out. Your back and arse are amazing."

He blushed, actually blushed at your words and turned back to the stove.

"Um, I......."

"Are you blushing Niall?"

"No!" He said not turning around.

"Can't believe I made you blush!"

"Shut up." He joked.

*******

 "So Miss Pearce, your portfolio of university work is incredibly good." One of the interviewers said to you.

"Thank you." You replied trying not to grin too much.

This interview was going really well, the two people conducting it seemed like nice people and you had relaxed a little bit. They had gone through all what the job would entail and how the first part of the internship was 3 and a half months in the Paris office. You would go in September and return a week before Christmas. A studio apartment within walking distance of the office was included and then a subsidised pay to reflect that.

You would be shadowing a more senior employee and learning how the company runs, before returning to the UK to do the same in their London office. It all sounded so exciting and you were pleased you'd had gone over some interview practice with Willie, Niall's cousin the previous evening.

As you left the office after the interview you were absolutely buzzing, it couldn't have gone any better. But you were realistic, and they had said that they were interviewing two other people as well as yourself. Niall had insisted on picking you up afterwards so you called him while you got yourself a coffee from a cafe shop nearby.

"So?" He asked as you got in the car.

"Went so good!" You squealed.

"I knew you could do it. When will they let you know?"

"Beginning of next week I expect. They said they had another interview tomorrow morning and I doubt they will make the decision quickly."

"They'd be mad to not employ you." He replied as he started the car.

**********

Jasper and Luke were at the bar when you arrived for your shift on Friday at 5pm. You'd reluctantly left Niall's that morning and headed back to your dorm to do some packing and then take a nap in preparation for the late night.

You'd stayed up late every night at Niall's, talking into the small hours of the morning. He was someone you felt you could share anything with and he had shared stuff with you too. Things you were surprised he would do if you were honest. The fact that he trusted you with some of his most private inner thoughts and feelings made you feel that this was something special. 

And that worried you.

With his tour coming up and with you working in London, possibly Paris both of you were pretty busy from the end of August right up until Christmas. You needed to try and not get too attached to him, he was sure to end things with you by the end of August.

Abi had been on the day shift so she updated you with everything that has happened during the afternoon. You took over from Abi with clearing the tables on the courtyard outside while Jasper and Luke stocked the bar and served.

As much as you hated working late nights in the bar, you were going to miss it when you finally got another job. You enjoyed working with Jasper and Luke and it could be quite amusing watching all the intoxicated people sometimes.

A large group of lads came in at about 7pm, seems they were celebrating their last exam. They were pretty rowdy but nothing that you, Jasper and Luke couldn't handle. You spotted Niall as soon as he walked in, walking side by side with Deo, Willie and another lad you didn't recognise.

"Evening." You said smiling.

"Evening Emma my love." Deo replied.

You smiled and offered a greeting to everyone, a cheeky smile on Niall's lips when he replied. Taking their order you started pulling their pints of Guinness and chatting with Willie about how your interview went. They had come out for a couple of pints and because "Niall wouldn't stop talking about you" apparently according to Deo. That cute blush that Niall gets started to creep up on his face at Deo's words.

You excused yourself after a while, you needed to go out to the courtyard to collect some glasses and make sure everything was ok out there. Stepping past the table of rowdy lads you stopped to clear their glasses and make general conversation with them. They had indeed finished their last exam that morning and were out celebrating as you had thought when they'd arrived.

They were joking about with you as you collected their glasses, innocent enough, but you could feel Niall's gaze from across the bar. It's not as if you were flirting with them, they were only asking about offers you had on shots at the moment. Warning them that if they got too rowdy then you'd kick them out, you said goodbye and made your way behind the bar again. 

Niall being in the bar was kind of awkward. You had glasses to collect, people to serve and all you wanted to do was grab yourself a beer and sit your self next to him. There was no way you could kiss him goodbye when he would eventually leave, people had been glancing over to him occasionally, obviously recognising him. One brave girl, similar age to you had been staring at him while you were getting her drinks and you were over come with jealousy. It was tempting to accidentally knock her drink over as you passed it to her, which would surely result in her getting soaked.

But you were a grown up and also you knew that you'd spent the last three days having dirty sex with him. Niall was definitely a one woman type of guy, you had zero idea what you guys were, but he didn't seem the type to have more than one girl on the go at one time. He was a busy guy, he could barely keep up with one let alone multiple girls.

It was almost 11pm when Niall and the lads stood up to leave.

"What time do you think you'll be home?" Niall asked.

"Not sure by 12/12:30." You replied, your eyes scanning around to make sure you weren't heard.

You weren't planning on spending the night with Niall as you had to be up at 8am to get to The Cosy Coffee Corner for your shift. Neither of you had made any plans for the weekend with each other, when he'd brought you home earlier today he had just said he'd see you later. Not wanting to come on too strong and seem clingy you had just said the same and kissed him goodbye.

"Are Luke and Jasper walking you home?"

 "Yeah they are."

"Call me when you're home then Petal, so I know you're safe."

"I will do, goodnight Ni." You replied smiling.

Flicking on the kettle as soon as you got to your dorm room, you kicked off your shoes and headed to the loo. Once you'd made your tea, you sat your self on your chair using one of the boxes you'd already packed to prop up your feet. Blowing on the cup to cool down your drink you patiently waited for Niall to answer his phone.

"Hey darlin, you ok?"

"Hey you, yeah I'm ok. Bit tired."

"Busy few days." He replied and you could hear the smile in his voice.

"Yeah, someone tired me out." You giggled.

There was silence for a moment and you wondered if you should say something else, but then Niall spoke.

 "Can we talk about us?" He nervously asked.

"Um, yeah. What did you want to talk about?" You managed to reply.

So this was it. 

You thought he wouldn't end this for at least another month, right before he was due to go away. You took in a deep breath waiting for him to answer you and trying to hold back the urge to vomit into your cup of tea.

"I really like you, like really like you."

You were waiting for the but....

"I was so jealous when you were talking to those lads in the pub, worried that one of them would try and get your number."

A small smile appeared on your face at his cute jealousy. "They were asking about the offers on shots."

"Oh."

There was silence again while he processed what you had said. You didn't speak, choosing to let him finish whatever he had wanted to talk to you about.

"Well it occurred to me that um... you could have given them your number um ..... if you had wanted to."

He was being so shy and nervous that you couldn't help but smile.

"Would you have wanted to? If they had asked that is?"

Niall Horan, multimillionaire and international musician, lusted after by millions worldwide was nervous about talking to you.

You, Emma Jane Pearce. A now ex university student who worked in a coffee shop and a pub.

"No, I wouldn't have."

Now was the time to bare your feelings to him. It had obviously taken him a lot of courage to ask you that.

"Niall, I really like you too. I feel really comfortable with you, I've never been able to talk about such personal stuff with anyone the way I speak about it with you. Not even Hannah and Jess. And I was jealous of the way that some of the girls were looking at you tonight. But I know that happens as part of your job, you're such a stud."

You both burst out laughing then at your attempt to ease the awkwardness.

"People always watch me and stare at me, it's unfortunately part of the job like you said."

It was silent again.

You wish he would get on with it and end whatever this was, instead of prolonging it anymore.

"I um..... Wow this is harder than I thought."

Come on just get on with it, I can take it you thought.

"Do you maybe want to make this a bit more.......I don't know, maybe take another step forward. Like.....um maybe be exclusive with each other, put a name on it or something or whatever....." He said trailing off.

"Niall, are you asking me to be your girlfriend?!" You asked him, so shocked that your voice was all high and squeaky.

"Well yeah, I mean I would've liked to have asked you face to face but I couldn't have slept tonight without having spoken to you. Why are you sounding so shocked?"

"Well, I did think you were about to end whatever we had going?"

"You did? Why would you think that?"

"I don't know I just presumed that when you went away for your promo tour and with the new album coming out that you'd be too busy to entertain me."

"Is that what you wanted me to say?" He asked you nervously.

"No, God not at all. I just didn't want to think that you might want this to be more when in reality you didn't want that at all."

"I want this to be more Emma, so much more." He replied softly.

 "Me too Niall."

Part Six

https://niall-is-my-dream.tumblr.com/post/187761923968/lost-without-you-part-six

[theficpusher]

beneath the sound of hope by YesIsAWorld | E | 6620 After Louis Tomlinson leaves the set of the Smashing Pumpkins’ “1979” music video, it’s not the band or the experience that he can’t stop thinking about—it’s the curly-haired boy he met while filming. Determined to track that same boy down, he sets off on a short journey and ends up figuring out some truths about himself along the way.

this love will keep us through blinding of the eyes by HazHas4Nips | nr | 9847 As his other friends head into the strip club, he steps towards the bouncer, fumbling through his wallet to find his ID. He’s so distracted by his search that he hasn’t gotten a proper look at the bouncer until he’s standing right in front of him, shoving his ID into the alpha's ridiculously long, painted fingers. Louis will blame it on the alcohol if anyone asks, but he can’t help staring intensely at the alpha in front of him, soaking up every detail of the guy. His breath catches in his throat as he watches the alpha, unable to look away from the strikingly green eyes. It’s weird. So weird. Maybe Louis is more drunk than he thought, but he was feeling just barely tipsy only moments ago so that seems slightly unlikely. Between the long curls, the jawline so sharp it could cut glass, muscles rippling under his shirt, and endlessly long legs, this alpha is objectively the most attractive person Louis has ever seen. But that can’t be right, because Louis’ an alpha, too. When Louis' friends bring him to a strip club for his 18th birthday, the last thing he would have expected is leaving with a crush, let alone a crush on another alpha.

the way that you're thrilling me by hereforlou | E | 12136 Sometimes he wondered if everyone was pretending. Alphas were smelly and cocky and mostly arseholes, in Harry’s experience. Or at least they were at school. He didn’t understand how his friends—lovely, soft-skinned, sweet-smelling omegas—could actually want to touch them, or be touched by them. Maybe he was just immature. That’s what his friends said, anyway. He’d want it eventually. (Or, the one where Harry and Louis don’t enjoy sex - until they do.)

Pillow Talk by FallingLikeThis | E | 25981 “So, do you think I should… find someone to fool around with?” Harry asks, nervous again. “To see if I like it?” Louis swallows hard but hopes he covers it pretty well with a casual shrug. “I mean, it would probably help to know that you actually want everything that goes along with being with a guy. If you can’t handle the machinery, it’s probably not for you, you know?” Harry nods and appears to be steeling himself. Louis tenses, afraid that he knows what’s coming. “Would you do it?” “Do what?” Louis plays dumb. Harry has to take another deep breath before he can say it. “Will you help me figure out if I like it? Being with a boy?” Or When Harry starts having confusing feelings for a male classmate, his sister's best friend, Louis, helps him figure himself out. Cue lots of kissing, sex, and falling in love.

And Touch Me Like You Never by runaway_train | E | 35971 “Lets move back a bit yeah?” Harry clutches at his waist with a free hand and tugs him to move through the crowd until they are almost at the back of the group and settles them both beside the far wall. “There. That better?” Louis looks up at him, as if he’s a tad dazed. “Uh, yeah, thanks. Can’t really see much from back here either though.” Harry lifts a shoulder and grins at him, placing a hand on the wall behind Louis to pen him in. “We’ll just have to create our own fireworks then, won’t we?” He says it jokingly with a wink, and Louis laughs but he seems nervous. He must know that Harry is harmlessly flirting. Harry flirts with everyone after all, including Louis. “Do you think this is a good idea Haz?” Louis asks quietly, almost too quietly in the clamour of the room, his head bowed as he scuffs his shoe on the carpet. “Stop over thinking it Lou, it’s one kiss. What’s the worst that could happen?” Or The one where Harry and Louis agree to be each other's New Year's kiss and it ends up being a lot more than they bargained for.

Easy As All That (Go Around A Time Or Two) by sunsetmog | E | 84957 Sometimes the hardest part of growing up is figuring out who you are in the first place. Or: The one where Liam and Louis only kiss when they're on nights out, when it's secret, when there's no one around to see them. If no one knows you're having a sexuality crisis, that means it isn't happening, right? Or, or: Liam accidentally turns Louis' world upside down. A high school sixth form AU.

Heading for Limbo by FullOnLarrie | E | 100866 Childhood best friends who’ve fallen in and out of touch with each other since Louis’ family moved away when they were thirteen, Harry and Louis find their paths crossing again and again. Each time, no matter how many miles apart or how many years it’s been, it’s as if no time has passed. They fall back into their easy friendship, until life intervenes and sends them on their separate ways once more. When Harry discovers some life-changing things about himself, Louis is there for him, however he needs. But it’s all temporary because Louis has plans that will move his life from New York all the way to L.A. and the distance isn’t the only thing between them. The pieces of their twice broken hearts are scattered from the Atlantic to the Pacific.

[celtics534]

Last Couple Years Have Been a Mad Trip

The doom days are upon us! A new Muggle AU. Doom Days by Bastille inspired this story. @gryffindormischief and @thedistantdusk have been amazing helping me with this fic! 

Also read on: FF.net or AO3

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry watched the bird soar high above him. The sun was finally out after weeks of a cold rain hounding the United Kingdom. He was tired-- that bone tired where all you want to do is curl up in a soft bed and sleep for days. But he couldn’t. He had to finish his mission.

  He hefted the large duffle bag back up his shoulder as he turned his attention to the man walking out of the storefront. Well, what had once been a storefront. Now it resembled a stereotypical bunker, the kind one might see in a film; boarded windows and steel locks covered every opening. The neon lights that had once shown a bright advertisement had been smashed. No one would ever guess it was a makeshift hospital.

  The man kept his hood up as he approached Harry, a slight limp slowing his pace. Harry didn’t say a thing, just waited. The hooded figured stopped right in front of Harry, his hand outstretched. “Harry.”

  “Neville.” Harry took the offering smiled at his friend. “How’s it been?”

  Neville reached up and removed his hood, revealing a black eye and multiple cuts. “Eh, same old same old.”

  Harry shook his head. “What you do to deserve that shinner?”

  “Eh?” Neville’s fingers gently touched the bruise. “This is nothing. You should see the other guy.”

  “I’ll get right on that, but first.” Harry rolled the strap off his shoulder and handed the bag to his friend. “There’s everything you asked for.”

  Neville unzipped the bag a few inches to peer into it. After a quick examination, he nodded and closed the duffle. “This will help a lot of people. Thanks, Harry.” He pulled out a few ration cards and handed them to Harry. “Your payment.”

  Harry took the cards with a nod of thanks. “Do you have anything else you need?”

  Neville glanced back at the hospital. “Not right now. I have a good stock on most things.” He lifted the bag slightly. “These plants will go a long way to helping some of the children feel less pain.”

  “I hope so.” Harry took his glasses off his nose and cleaned the lenses with a clean corner of his shirt.

  “What about you?” Neville placed a comforting hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Do you need anything? Bandages? Alcohol? A good night’s rest?”

  Harry snorted. “I haven’t had a good night’s rest in over three years.”

  Neville let out a low, deprecating laugh. “You and everyone else. Well, if you need a bed for the night, our doors are always open for you.”

  A lump formed in Harry’s throat. “I - Thank you.”

  “Of course.” Neville patted his shoulder twice before stepping back. “Oh, by the way. Have you spoken to Arthur Weasley lately?”

  Harry felt a jolt of electricity course through him at the mere mention of the name Weasley . He pushed those feeling away as quickly as they came: This was not the time or place for his mind to think about her .

  “Er-- not for a while now. Why? Is he okay? The family?” If something had happened to her, Harry might snap.

  “No, well...” Neville backtracked. “I think everyone is fine, but Arthur's been asking around. He’s been looking for you.”

  Harry’s panic faded, allowing his brain to function again. “Me? Did he say what he needs?”

  Neville shook his head. “No, just to pass the word.” He grinned. “This is me, passing the word.”

  Unable to stop himself, Harry snorted at his friend's poor humor. “Thanks, Nev.”

  “Anytime.” Neville hung the bag strap on his shoulder. “Do you know where Arthur lives?”

  Harry knew where to find the Weasleys. He never would admit it, but he’d kept tabs on them… on her... for the past few years. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

  Neville nodded once before limping back into the boarded brick building he had come from. Taking a deep breath, Harry turned and started back down the dirty cobble street. The building that the Weasley’s called home was an hour walk from his current location, and Harry wanted to make it there before nightfall.

  His feet knew the way through the back streets of London without any thought. He had taken every path across the city. Hell, he’d actually been outside the constructed walls that surrounded the district.   

  Harry still found it odd how the once great, large city had been reduced to small divisions. Mismatched pieces of metal stuck up from the ground as dividers, allowing appointed guards to keep order. It was safer that way, controlling who came and went. At least that’s what they claimed. But it still made Harry’s blood boil every time a mother and child were turned away, just because they didn’t have any ration cards or were unwilling to sell their bodies to pay their way in.

  The street was starting to clear as curfew drew closer and closer. No one made eye contact, choosing to keep their eyes downcast and to move quickly.

  The last three years had been hard on people. The nearly constant fear was evident in the way people held their bodies. There was no such thing as trusting your neighbor anymore. No-- your neighbor would be the one to rob you blind the minute you turned your back.

  Harry knew this all too well. Hell, he'd been both victim and thief before. Survival was the goal, above all else. If it was a choice between them and him, he'd always choose him.

  Well… there were some people he put first. The Weasley family were among the honored. They had practically raised him from the moment he and Ron became mates. Molly and Arthur Weasley were the best kind of people, Harry thought, for loving a poor, orphaned child.

  There was only one person Harry held above his adopted parents --

  No!

  Harry shook his head vigorously, hoping to rid his mind of her... her and that red hair that always looked so smooth, those freckles that bunched together whenever she wrinkled her nose, and how could he forget --

  Fucking hell! Harry pinched his arm. He needed to stop before he fell back down that rabbit hole.

  A light rain started to fall, making Harry’s feet speed up. It wasn’t long before he reached the brown brick building that housed Arthur and his family. Harry looked at the peeling black door, trying to ignore the scratchy feeling between his shoulder blades. Inside that building was his family who he hadn’t seen in…

  Harry ran a hand through his now-wet hair. Had it really been two and a half years since he’d seen them?

  Movement by the ground floor window caught his eye. Someone had been looking at him. It only took another five seconds for the front door to open and manifest into Harry’s best-yet-worst fantasy.

  “Harry!” Ginny rushed out into the rain and wrapped her arms around his neck. Instantly, she clouded his senses. Her scent, a sweet, warm smell that had driven him crazy from the age of fifteen, filled his lungs. And the feeling of her fingers grazing the small hairs at the back of his head sent shivers down his spine.

  “I’ve missed you,” Ginny spoke into his neck, her breath somehow spreading warmth down to his toes.

  “Hey, Gin.” Harry refused to acknowledge the way his heart had started beating a tattoo against his chest.  

  “What are you doing here?” Ginny asked as she pulled away. Her hair had already plastered to her forehead and her face was flushed, but Harry’s treacherous brain could only see the adorable dimple caused by her smile.

  “I-- er-- your dad was looking for me.”

  Ginny’s dimple disappeared as she frowned. “He was? Huh.” She looked back at the house; the faint light from a candle positioned in the entrance lit the doorway. “Well, let's go find out why.”  

  “You know, you should have asked me a security question before coming out of the house,” Harry gently reminded her. Ginny snorted. Her arm tucked into his as she led the way into the warm light.

  “Please, I’d know you from a mile away. No one could imitate your crazy hair.” She reached her free arm around and ruffled his damp head.

  Harry had to stomp on the butterflies that erupted in his stomach. He cleared his throat and tilted his head away from her onslaught. “ Still .”

  “Fine next time, I’ll hold a knife to your throat as a greeting. Sound good?”

  “That’s all I ask.”

  Ginny’s laugh was loud in the unnatural silence of the once-busy metropolis. “It’s so good to have you back, Harry.”

  Harry wanted to close his eyes and pretend that they were a normal boy and girl. He wanted to pretend they had no worries or fears, just two people who were going home together. But that was impossible for seemingly endless reasons. So instead, Harry just enjoyed the way her hand brushed his as they walked.

  XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

  “I think Dad’s in his office.” Ginny led the way by candlelight. Harry loved the way her shadow played off the walls, not to mention how it highlighted all of her flawless curves.

  Holy fucking Jesus, man! Harry mentally screamed at himself. Keep it in your pants .

  Not like that was a real challenge. Between his jobs, healing from injuries he somehow sustained and pining for the red-head currently swaying her hips in front of him (because yes, he knew what pining was -- and that he could be the definition for it), Harry was the poster boy for abstinence.

  But, fuck , every time he saw Ginny…

  “I’m gonna go make some tea.” Ginny stopped in front of a closed white door, “I’ll bring you and Dad some.” She placed the candle down on a stand and pulled Harry in for another hug. “Don’t even think of leaving before I see you again, got it?”

  Harry nodded.

  “Good boy.” She patted his cheek. “Now go talk to dad.” Harry watched her walk back down the corridor, his eyes still drifting to watch her hips. Fuck!

  Shaking himself out of his fantasy, Harry turned to knock on Arthur’s door. There was a quiet call for him to enter. The small room was more cluttered than Harry remembered, though he really hadn’t come into this room very often. He had been more focused on heading to local green space with Ron or(though he’d never admit it to Arthur) pretending to work on his homework while really watching Ginny twirl her hair around her finger as she actually worked.

  Arthur smiled at him as he entered. “Harry! How are you, son?” The older man stood up to hug him.

  “I’m good, Mr. Weasley.” Harry clapped Arthur on the back.

  “Now, Harry.” Arthur pulled away and gave him a friendly glare. “I’ve told you before. It’s Arthur . How many times do I need to remind you?”

  Harry smiled. This was how life should be. This was normal. “At least once more.”

  Arthur laughed heartily at Harry’s classic answer. “Glad to see you haven’t changed.” He gestured for Harry to take the spare chair from the corner. Arthur waited until Harry settled himself in front of the desk before speaking again. “So, I’ve heard you’ve made quite a name for yourself.”

  Harry shrugged. “It’s according to whom you talk to. People tend to exaggerate.”  

  “Well my source, which I’ll name to be Neville Longbottom, told me you’re rather good at getting items for his hospital.”

  Again, Harry shrugged. Smuggling supplies from outside the walls really wasn’t too hard as long as you knew the way and had the right equipment.

  Arthur leaned forward in his seat, as he took off his glasses for quick cleaning. “Harry, I --” He swallowed hard as he placed his spectacles back onto his nose. “Harry, Molly’s sick.”

  Harry’s heart plummeted into his stomach. “Sick?” His voice was raspy, so he cleared his throat before trying again. “Which kind of sick?”

  Everyone knew there was sick and then there was sick . The latter being far worse.

  Three years previously a plague started to form, and yes, plague was the only word for it. It started at Parliament and then hit Scotland Yard. Within twenty-four hours, ninety percent of the government forces were dead from some unknown illness.

  The sickness (or what people took to calling “Morsmordre”) continued to spread to commoners. Within a year of the first death, over half of England’s population was dead. Over time, the power of Morsmordre seemed to lessen. People were still developing the symptoms, but it was taking longer for it to completely destroy their system. The downside to that was it prolonged their suffering.

  Anarchy had been created in the chaos of the disease. Power was lost and phones became a thing of the past. Bands of rebels had formed and made it so the common man couldn't feel safe, even in their own home. That was when the walls were built around the city of London. Guards manned the entrances (they knew of) refusing entry to people without clearance.

  Arthur gulped audibly and Harry could see the tears start to spring to the man's eyes. Harry had to look away. Here was one of the strongest men Harry knew brought to tears. Fuck this world! And Molly… not Molly.

  Harry reached out a hand. Arthur grasped it tightly as he gulped in large breaths of air. After a minute Arthur spoke in a tight voice. “I've heard of a certain plant that can help…”

  “Arthur.” Harry understood what going to be asked of him. “There isn't any cure. Everyone knows --”

  “Harry.” Arthur's cut him off. “I have to try. You understand, right?”

  And Harry did. He truly did. He would do anything if it meant that Molly would be fine. Yet… Harry had seen enough of this world to not hope. But when he looked into Arthur’s eyes he knew he couldn’t say no.  “Arthur…” He sighed. “Where can I find this plant?”

  “Find the…” Arthur shook his head. “You misunderstand me, or I guess I haven’t explained myself. I want you to take Ginny to Bill’s.”

  Harry blinked rapidly. “You want me to… what?”

  As Arthur opened his mouth, a knock on the door announced Ginny’s arrival. “Tea, gentlemen?” She placed a tray with three steaming mugs down on the messy wooden desk between Harry and Arthur. “I brought all the fixins’.” She perched herself on the edge of Harry’s chair, one of the mugs clutched between her hands. “What are you two talking about?”

  “Ginny,” Arthur sighed. “I --” His voice choked as a sob rose past his lips.

  “Dad?” Ginny’s smile fell as she moved to her father, placing her tea aside. “What’s wrong?”

  Arthur breathed deeply as Ginny rubbed soothing circles on his back. After a moment he lifted his head. “It’s your mother, Ginny.”

  Harry watched as Ginny’s face paled; she understood everything her father couldn’t say. “No.” It was more of a plea than anything. That one word almost made Harry leap from his chair and pull her into his arms, but instead, he remained stationary, watching the scene before him with his gut clenched painfully.

  “Ginny, I need you to go to Bill’s,” Arthur spoke calmly, but because Harry knew the man so well, he could see the pain his own words inflicted on him.

  “No!” This time, it was a refusal. Ginny stood stock-straight, glaring at her father. “I won’t leave you.”

  “I need you to be somewhere safe while I go find a cure for your mother.”

  “Dad, I don’t need to be hidden away.”

  Arthur rose and placed his hands on his daughter's shoulders, looking her dead in the eye. “You don’t think I know that? I raised you, Ginny. I know what you’re capable of.”

  “Then why--”

  “Because your mother and I need to know you’re safe.” Arthur didn’t raise his voice, but his tone had the same commanding effect as if he had. “I need to focus on this right now and that means I’ll be going outside the walls--”

  “Dad, that’s illegal without the proper clearance. If anyone should do it, it’s me. I’m younger so I’ll move faster. Not to mention--”

  Arthur just shook his head, cutting off his daughter. “No, I need to do this.”

  Ginny glared at her father, her lips becoming impossibly thin. “Dad.”

  Sighing deeply, Arthur pulled his daughter into a hug. “I love you, Ginny, but I'm not changing my mind. I want you and Harry to go to Bill's.”

  “Wait…” Ginny looked back and forth between her father and Harry. “Me and Harry ?”

  “Yes. I'll feel better with you watching each other's backs. Not to mention you haven't been outside of the city in at least two years.”  

  Harry watched Ginny bite her bottom lip. If he didn't know better he'd say she looked guilty. Actually, he did know better: Ginny had been outside the walls.

  Arthur took advantage of Ginny’s silence. Kissing the top of her head, Arthur took a step back.“Not to mention, you and I both know how contagious this disease can become.” He looked at the framed photos of his beloved sons. “I'm going to go check on your mother.”

  And just like that, Harry was alone with Ginny. Neither of them said a thing, both lost in their own thoughts. Harry still couldn’t wrap his mind around it. Molly Weasley was -- she was -- the words refused to be spoken, even in his own mind.

  “ Fuck! ” Ginny’s sudden outburst made Harry jump a meter in the air. “Sorry.” Though she didn’t really sound sorry. “But Goddamn it! I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t want to think...”

  She turned her face away, but Harry knew she was holding back a sob. This time, he didn’t hesitate. Harry rose from his seat and placed a hand on Ginny's back.

  “Hey.” He didn’t know what to say. Words had never been his strong suit. His hand started making small circles between her shoulder blades. He could feel her body tremble. “Ginny.”

  When she turned, Harry got a quick view of silent tears and a set jaw before her face was buried in his shirt. His arms wrapped around her form, wishing he could do more. He could feel her sobs now, though she remained silent.

  Harry held her while her body shook. After a few minutes, the tremors calmed and her breathing seemed to even out.  When she pulled back, her face was blotchy and tear tracks ran down her cheeks, but to Harry, she was still the most beautiful woman.

  “Thanks, Harry.” Ginny ran a fist over each cheek, trying to dry them. “I know that probably made you uncomfortable.”

  “No!” Harry spoke way too quickly and way too loudly for it to sound believable. But really, it hadn’t made him feel awkward at all, which surprised him. He had never been good with tears, but for some reason, when Ginny cried it didn't make him want to run and hide. “I - I - are you okay?”

  Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Of course, she isn’t alright you dolt!

  Ginny shook her head but gave him a small smile. “No, but I’ll have to be. I’ve learned that nothing in this world is safe.” Her eyes glanced at the picture that hung behind the desk. A photo of Ginny’s brothers Fred, George, and Ron beamed back at them. The photo had been taken two weeks before the first case of Morsmordre was discovered-- four weeks before all three of the men were dead.

  That had been Harry’s breaking point. He’d lost his best friend, who had been more of a brother to him, to some fucking disease. And now, the same thing was happening to the woman he considered to be his mother.

  “Ginny. I’m sorry.” Harry couldn’t say it enough. God, was he ever sorry...   

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “I know, but--”

  “Harry.” Ginny placed a finger over his lips. His attention fell to it, going cross-eyed to keep in focus. “Save your guilt trips for things that are actually your fault. If I remove my finger, will you be good?” He nodded and Ginny drew her hand back. “I’m going to go check on my mum and dad. Why don’t you start planning our route to Bill’s.”

  Harry saw a flash of hesitation before Ginny’s jaw set again. Then she was on her tiptoes, her lips on his cheek. “Thanks again.”

  And like that Harry was alone in the study. His body now felt cold without her in his arms.

  XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

  “Dad?” Ginny knocked on her parents’ bedroom door. “May I come in?” A muffled sob was the first thing sound she heard come out of the room, followed by a quiet throat-clear, and finally her father’s voice.. A candle in the corner presented the only source of light, making it so Ginny had a hard time seeing her mother.

  Over the past few days, she’d known her mother had been sick. Molly hadn’t come out for dinners or accepted her invitation to play charades. Ginny just hadn’t known how bad her mother's illness had been, or maybe subconsciously she had just been hoping that it wasn’t Morsmordre. She’d flatly refused to consider the possibility.

  But though it was hard to see in the faint light, she could tell her mother had the tell-tale signs of Morsmordre. There was no other way Molly could have gotten peeling green scabs across her face.  

  “Ginny.” Molly’s voice sounded as if she hadn't spoken in ten years. Moving in closer, Ginny could see her mother's brown eyes bleary and unfocused. “Did you talk --” Ginny's mother wasn't able to finish her sentence due to a guttural coughing fit.

  “Mum.” Ginny couldn't even think as she grasped her mother's hand. The normally warm, comforting touch Ginny had always related to her mother was gone, replaced with what she would assume the dead felt like.

  Molly took a sip from the straw Arthur offered her before speaking again. “I'm sorry we didn't tell you about this sooner, love. Your father and I thought you might run off and try to find a cure by yourself.”

  Ginny nodded. That's exactly what she would have done. She would have marched across all of England if it meant she didn't have to lose--

  Just when she thought was done with tears!

  “Come here.” Molly slowly opened her arms, allowing Ginny to crawl in then like she used to do as a child.

  XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

  Ginny gathered the last of her shirts, throwing them unceremoniously into her rucksack. After spending thirty minutes in her mother's arms, Ginny had felt as if the air inside the bedroom had been sucked out and she needed to get away.

  Her mind had been blank as she packed everything she might need on the trip to Bill’s. Which was at least a four-day walk, and that was without any issues arising. Though Ginny hadn’t ventured far outside of the “safe zone” that London provided, she had seen enough to know that trekking across the country would have issues.  

  A knock on her bedroom door made her head shoot up. “Yeah?”

  “It’s Harry. Can I come in?”

  Ginny’s treacherous heart started beating faster than the wings of a baby bird's first flight. God! She hated that he still had this effect on her. Hadn’t pining for Harry the entirety of her teen years been enough? Of bloody course not! The moment she had spotted him standing outside their house, Ginny’s body had been out of her mind’s control.

  She hadn’t seen him in over two years, and fuck, she’d missed him. They had been close friends from secondary school, but during their A levels, their friendship had taken on a new depth. There had even been a time, somewhere between Harry starting uni and her completing her A levels, where Ginny had thought something more than friendship might happen for them. But then the world had gone to hell in a handbasket.   

  “Ginny?” Harry spoke again.

  Ginny mentally shook herself, jarring herself into action. She moved to the door and leaned against it. “How do I know you’re really Harry?”

  “Really, Gin?” Harry exasperated tone made Ginny smile.  

  Fuck, I love the way he says Gin. “ Really really. I need you to answer a question only the real Harry would know.”

  “Like what?”

  Ginny thought about it for a moment. “What happened the first time we went to Brighton alone?”

  She laughed as she heard a thump on the wall beside her. “Come on. Why did you have to bring that up?”

  “Answer the question, Harry. If that is your name.”

  His voice got even more muffled as he lowered his voice, but Ginny could faintly make out his words. “I tripped and fell.”

  “And?”

  “And I fell into someone.”

  “ And? ”

  “I tried to catch myself by using a stranger's breasts. Happy now?”

  Ginny opened the door wide to a flushed Harry. “Very.”

  Harry just shook his head. “Why do you like bringing that story up?”

  “I haven’t mentioned it in like two years.”

  There was a moment of silence between them. Their eyes locked. Then Harry’s lips quirked upwards before he snorted. “Well, you’re not wrong.”

  “I rarely am.”

  And that was the final straw. Harry laughed so hard his shoulders shook.

  Ginny had to hold herself back because at that moment all she wanted to do was reach out and run her hand along his dark jawline before pulling his chapped lips to hers. Fuck ! Why couldn’t her brain understand that was never gonna happen?

  Harry had stopped laughing and was staring at her with an intense look behind his glasses. Ginny knew that look. It had become commonplace during their teen years, and it was when she thought -- hoped -- that it was a look that said he wanted her more than just a best friend.

  Crash.

  Both she and Harry jumped backward as her half-packed bag tumbled to the floor, spilling most of the contents on the floor.

  It wasn’t until she looked back at Harry that she realized that she had been moving in closer. Shit, her body had possessed her mind again!

  Clearing his throat, Harry rubbed the back of his neck. “Right, so I just wanted to discuss the plan if you have a moment.”

  Fuck! What was she doing? Now she’d made Harry uncomfortable for the second time in under five hours. God, she needed to keep it in her pants. But then again, while her mind replayed the delicate ten seconds before the bag fell to the floor in sharp clarity, she could have sworn Harry’s body had been tilting her way too. Had he been… Ginny blinked rapidly, trying to bring her eyes back into focus.

  Nope! Don’t even go there, girl!

  “Uh… yeah!” She moved over to the fallen rucksack, stuffing the clothing that had tumbled out back into the holder. “I’ll meet you in the sitting room in a few minutes.”

  Harry nodded. He cleared his throat once more, before hastily retreating from the room. Ginny flopped backward onto her bed, her hands coming up to cover her face. Fuck!

  XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

  “Then we can stop in Glasbury. I have a man who owes me a favor there.” Harry pointed to the small village on the map of England. “He should have some supplies if we need any.”

  Ginny nodded. Harry had explained every possible spot where they could stop and have an ally. He had also explained that landmarks and county lines had changed. London wasn’t the only safe zone that created walls to protect its people so they could take advantage of the shelter. They just needed to know the right people… and apparently, Harry did.

  “How do you know so many people along this route?” Ginny thought it was strange that Harry had so many people that owed him favors in all these locations. Why was he going towards Wales so often?

  Harry sighed. “I have a client that likes me to bring certain items out to Dale.”

  Ginny nodded. “What kind of things?”

  “Things that aren’t easy to obtain.”

  She hated when Harry did this; his mysterious and aloof attitude could really grind her gears. He’d acted this way when they were kids too, but she had knocked that habit out of him. It seemed like she was going to have to do it again. Rising slowly from her chair, Ginny leaned over the table as if she were trying to see a small detail hidden on the map. With the speed of a skilled cricket pitcher, she thumped Harry across the back of the head.

  “Ow!” Harry’s hand jumped to the injured area. “What the fuck, Gin?”

  “If we’re gonna be walking halfway across this country together, I don’t want any of your ambiguous bullshit.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “We need to be completely honest with each other, got it?”

  Harry glared for at her for a few seconds, his hand rubbing the back of his head. “Fine.” He finally agreed. “But there will be some things I can’t tell you.”

  Ginny shrugged. “You don’t have to be an arse about it. Just say, ‘Ginny, I can't tell you.’”

  If Ginny hadn’t spent many hours watching Harry during their summer holidays and homework sessions, she may have missed the corner of his lips quirking upwards (the way they did whenever he was hiding his amusement). “Fine.”

  “Good, now that’s settled.” Ginny leaned back over the map, gesturing to Abingdon. “Why did you draw a star there?”

  Harry took a moment to respond, and when Ginny looked up at him through her lashes she could see that intense gaze focused on her again. It sent butterflies cascading through her stomach.

  “Oh, er…” Harry cleared his throat. “ Right . I may be able to find us a car there.”

  Ginny pushed away from the table and looked sharply at Harry. “No fucking way. No one has a car that’s worked in years.”

  Harry shrugged. “Do you remember my old mate Seamus?”

  Ginny had to think about it for a moment. “The Irish bloke that moved here during secondary?“

  “Right in one! He was always rather good with cars. I helped him out of a tricky spot a year or so ago. I’m hoping he will be able to return the favor.”

  “What are the odds of him having a car that runs, though?”

  Harry pursed his lips while considering her question. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and find out. Even if he can’t help us get a car, Abingdon has protective walls like London. It will be a safe spot to bunk for the night.”

  They fell into a silence, both staring at the map, seemingly lost in their own thoughts. Ginny, for her part, was trying to imagine how everything might have changed. The last time she’d been over towards the coast, all her brothers were still alive. Would things even be recognizable?  

  “Well.” Arthur’s voice from the doorway made Ginny jump. “It sounds like you’ve quite a journey ahead of yourselves. You should get some sleep. Harry, you can take the spare room across from Ginny.” And just as suddenly as he appeared, Ginny’s father left.

  “He’s right.” Harry folded the map into a tiny square. “We’re going to need to leave early in the morning.”

  Ginny nodded. They walked side by side to their rooms. When they reached the doors, both she and Harry paused looking at each other.

  “Well…” Harry’s hand came up to rub the back of his neck. “See you in the morning.”

  “Goodnight, Harry.” Without any conscious thought, Ginny got up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek for the second time that day. She let her lips linger a second longer than the last time, before slowly lowering herself back to the floor, her nose brushing along his jaw. Without another word she turned into her room, shutting the door behind her. She let out a huff, her eyes turned towards the ceiling as she fell back against the door.

[anotherkpopvictim]

Zoo Day - TaeKook Littlespace Drabble

(Source - allthingstaekook)

“lynn-jiie said: Maybe little jungkook and cg tae visit the zoo? (If you want it sexual, jungkook can be a bad boy and taehyung can teach him a lesson ;)) Sorry I’m bad at this”

A/N: Alright, so I loved this idea because Taekook is life <3 Also, I decided not to do anything sexual in this one, I’ll start off easy.

This is my first drabble so I would like to give a little disclaimer. I am not a little myself, and I have never known anyone in real life who is a little, so there might be some things that aren’t correct. If you notice something that incorrect or offensive to littles and caregivers, please kindly let me know. The last thing I want to do is offend anyone. I am simply writing from what I understand but I know I still have some things to learn.

Also, I’m Canadian so please excuse me if some words are spelled differently. And I don’t know anything about zoos in South Korea so...yeah. Just go with it.

I hope you enjoy this cute little drabble.

Pairing: Little!Jungkook X Caregiver!Taehyung

Rating: G

Words: 1865

Fluff, non-sexual

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

“Are we there yet?”

Taehyung smiled and shook his head fondly, eyes momentarily leaving the road so he could look at the younger in the rearview mirror. “Fifteen more minutes, baby.”

Jungkook pouted and whined, “But that's soooooo long!”

“It's not that long, Kookie.” Taehyung replied, “Hey, how about you choose the music, huh?”

The younger immediately brightened up, his eyes shining behind his cute round glasses, “Twice! Twice!” at Taehyung's quirked eyebrow, he added, “Twice please, Daddy.”

“Alright, bun. Hang on.”

Taehyung changed the playlist playing to one he titled Kook's Little Songs. He pressed play and sure enough, the first song to start blasting through the car was TT. The older fondly watched as Jungkook immediately began doing the choreography, unrestrained despite the seat belt holding him back. He belted out the lyrics like he hadn't a care in the world, and Taehyung loved seeing him like this, so free.

I'm like TT, just like TT

ireon nae mam moreugo neomuhae neomuhae

A laugh bubbled out of Taehyung's throat as Jungkook stomped his foot and placed his hands on his hips just like in the dance. The little even pouted too, fully into the song. He just looked so adorable that Taehyung wanted to pinch his cheeks.

I'm like TT, just like TT

Tell me that you'll be my baby

The singing was now bordering on screeching, but as long as Jungkook was enjoying himself, Taehyung didn't care.

The rest of the fifteen minute drive consisted of more girl group covers courtesy of Jungkook himself. This included Dance the Night Away (little Kook was a Twice stan, okay), as well as Red Velvet's Peek-A-Boo and Blackpink's As If It's Your Last. Taehyung really wished he hadn't been driving, otherwise he totally would have filmed the whole thing to send to their hyungs.

“DADDY, IT'S THE ZOO!” Jungkook pointed frantically out the window, eyes wide with excitement. He was practically bouncing in his seat.

Taehyung chuckled, “I can see that, baby.” He quickly parked the vehicle and got out to go over to the younger's side. As he unbuckled the little's seat belt, Jungkook whined, ever the impatient one. “Hey,” Taehyung gave him a more firm look, “No whining, Kookie. You want to be a good boy for Daddy, don't you?”

Jungkook nodded quickly, “Y-Yes, Kookie wanna be good. Sorry, Daddy. He do better now, promise.”

A tweak to the nose made the Jungkook's face scrunch up cutely and the older smile again. “Alright, are you ready to go see the animals, bun?”

The sound the younger made was something between a squeal and a laugh, and he began clapping his hands together. “Yes, yes, yes! Please!”

After paying to get in, Taehyung took the little's hand tightly and they started their journey through the zoo. “Where do you want to go first?”

Jungkook pursed his lips and furrowed his brows cutely as he thought, before he beamed up at the other. “Tigers!”

“This way, then.”

They probably made it twenty feet down the pathway before the younger got distracted. Taehyung was kind of expecting that though, so it was okay.

“Daddy!” Jungkook exclaimed, waggling his finger obnoxiously in the direction of an enclosure to their left. “Look it! Look it! Gorillas!” the older allowed himself to be pulled over to the pen so they could see the gorillas closer up.

They watched a large Silverback and a smaller female gorilla eating some apple chunks from a food dish. The large one took another slice and unexpectedly shoved it into the female's mouth. She looked up at him before beginning to chew. He seemed to take that as acceptance to his courtship because he visibly puffed out his chest proudly.

“Looks like someone's got a crush.” Taehyung mused, causing the little at his side to giggle.

“He likes her,” he agreed, then tilted his head as if he just thought of something. “The big one looks like Joonie-hyung.”

The older couldn't help but burst out laughing in surprise, but as he looked at the animal, he had to agree as well. The way the Silverback walked down to the little pond at the back of the pen was eerily reminiscent of the aforementioned Kim Namjoon. “He does, doesn't he?”

Kookie grinned, “Yeah.”

They continued on their walk, Jungkook humming and skipping as they went. They detoured (again) to see the giraffes, little Kookie looking on with wide eyes at the fantastically sizable creature. It was very surprising to even Taehyung just how large they really were.

After that, they stopped at the petting zoo and spent a good half hour brushing the goats. Taehyung took a picture of the younger with an alpaca at Jungkook's request, because, “This 'paca looks like Jinnie-hyung!” and Jin needed to know about it immediately, apparently (Jin's response was a bunch of keyboards smashes and hearts).

“Are you gonna find animals that look like all your hyungs today, baby?” Taehyung questioned.

“Uh huh!” the little replied, his eyes nearly disappearing with how hard he was smiling.

By the time they had actually made it to the tigers, they'd been there for nearly two hours, and Jungkook was slowly losing all the energy he'd had before in the heat of the sun. He still refused to go home before seeing the tigers, though. “Tigers are the bestest, Daddy.”

Taehyung smiled as he used a wet napkin to clean up the remnants of blue cotton candy from around the younger's mouth. “Yeah, why's that, bun?”

“'Cause tigers are protective and really, really beautiful,” he explained, before becoming shy. The little looked down at his feet and bit his lip as his cheeks stained a pretty rose colour. “Just like Daddy.”

God, Taehyung was so terribly enamoured with him it was insane. “Aigoo!” he cooed, pinching Jungkook's cheek softly. “That's so sweet, baby.”

Jungkook giggled, squirming at the praise. “What animal am I, Daddy?”

“Well, a cute little bunny rabbit, of course,” the older replied as he stood up from the bench they had been sat on. “Just like the ones we saw at the petting zoo. Except, you're much cuter than them.”

The younger slapped his hands over his cheeks as they turned an even darker hue, nearly bright red now. Jungkook looked down and whined out, “Daddy!”

Taehyung didn't think he would ever get over how cute it was that the younger still got embarrassed over his compliments. “It's true!” he insisted, “No one's more beautiful than my bunny.”

Jungkook peeked through the gaps in his fingers, “Daddy's bunny?” he asked shyly.

“Daddy's cutest, most adorable bunny.” the older corrected, just so he could admire the little's blush for a bit longer.

Sure enough, Jungkook whined and threw his arms around Taehyung, hiding his face in his neck.

“Alright,” Taehyung continued, changing the subject. He didn't want to overwhelm the younger, even if it was with good feelings. Not right now, anyway. “How about we go see the tigers now, huh baby?”

Jungkook nodded and pulled away from him again so they could head towards the tiger pen. Their hands swung, intertwined between them, as they got closer and closer to the most anticipated exhibit.

Once they could see they familiar orange and black stripes, the younger squealed and ran excitedly away from his caregiver. He jumped up on the safety fence so he could get a better look, and though Taehyung knew that the predator couldn't get to the little, he was still worried about the younger hurting himself.

“Careful, bun.” Taehyung admonished gently, hands moving to hold Jungkook's hips just in case he fell as soon as he was close enough to do so.

Jungkook, on the other hand, wasn't paying any attention to his hyung at all. His gaze was locked on the vibrantly colored, female Bengal tiger crossing right in front of them. The dark, blood orange fur shimmered more brightly in the beams of sunlight, and the black stripes and white detailing seemed to contour her face and pattern her body breathtakingly.

“I think you're right, bun,” the older mused, pressing a kiss to the back of the little's head but eyes still entranced by the magnificently intimidating animal prowling along the ground less than ten feet from them. “Tigers are pretty cool.”

The two of them watched as the creature turned to look at them briefly, eyes flashing with a warning before she turned away once more. She reached the front left corner of the enclosure, where two cubs who couldn't have been more than a few months old wrestled in the dirt. The mother – Taehyung assumed she was the mother anyways, with how protective she was being – plopped herself down nearby and her two cubs pounced on her, yipping happily at her presence. One jumped on her back and began biting at her ear, while the other one turned over on its back and started pawing at her face. The larger tiger only halfheartedly growled at them before giving in to their antics. Watching the animal like this, Taehyung could almost picture the tiger giving a fond rolling of her eyes.

“Protec'ive,” Jungkook said, breaking the comfortable silence that had formed between them. The little's voice was quieter, and Taehyung could tell that he was getting tired. The younger turned to look at the older with a sleepy smile, “Just like Daddy.”

“Just like Daddy.” Taehyung agreed. He shuffled the younger around and brought him into his embrace invitingly. Jungkook didn't hesitate to jump up and wrap his legs around the older's waist, arms curling around his shoulders similarly. The little shoved his face into Taehyung's neck as the other held the back of his thighs so he wouldn't fall.

“Tired, Daddy.” the little slurred.

“I know, bun. It's past your usual nap time.” Taehyung began walking them through the park towards the entrance. “You can sleep now, okay baby?”

“M'kay.” Jungkook hummed, already half asleep.

Taehyung was glad that no one gave them any trouble as they went. A few ladies saw them and turned to each other to coo at the cuteness, but they thankfully didn't receive any dirty looks or anything.

Once they reached the car, Taehyung settled the younger into the back seat, doing up his seat belt easily. He draped his Winnie the Pooh blanket over him and tucked his stuffed bunny into his arms. Jungkook was completely asleep now, his face peaceful, lips pouted out just the slightest bit. The older quickly pulled out the little's pacifier from the travel bag and made sure that it was clean before slipping it between the younger's lips. Jungkook latched on to the teat of the soother, immediately suckling happily and letting out a sigh of relief in his sleep.

After pressing a loving kiss to his forehead, Taehyung started the drive home. It was quiet compared to the drive earlier, but no less comfortable. The older was more than content with sneaking glances in the rearview mirror so he could see Jungkook's adorable sleepy pout. And if he took a few (read: about one hundred) pictures of him with his phone, the younger didn't need to know.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

A/N: so that’s the drabble! Thank you lynn-jiie for requesting this, I had fun writing it! I have a few more drabbles in the works, but if you would like to request something, you can, just know that it might be a while. If it's going to take more than a few weeks, I will message you and let you know, otherwise, you can expect it within a week or two.

[writetobuildtheworld]

coke-bottle glasses

There was a man who lived alone at the edge of a small town. His house sat next to a junkyard, and no one knew when he’d arrived or how long he’d been there. Some thought the man had died years ago. He never left his house, after all. But those who visited the junkyard often noticed a light turning on and off in the rundown shack. A shadowy, vaguely humanoid shape would pass by the window. Most of those visitors never returned.

In other words, Grant was terrified of the junkyard. Until recently, he’d never had to worry about it. But then his parents got divorced. His dad had custody of him for most of the year, which meant Grant now lived less than a mile away from that stupid, stupid junkyard.

It was horrible. If the weather was clear, he could see the junkyard in the distance from his bedroom window. Mocking him. Whenever he heard strange noises, he knew it had to be the creepy old man coming to kill him. His dad said it was rats in the walls, but his dad had never been too bright. Grant knew better.

Grant’s new school was also terrible. The group of people he hung out with were more… reckless than his old friends. Around them, nine times out of ten he feared for his life.

“Dude, it’s just initiation,” Jake said, rolling his eyes. “All of us have done it. You’re going to be fine.”

Grant groaned. “Is this really necessary?” Was he stalling? Absolutely. “I’ve been here for two weeks now! Why the sudden need for me to…” He couldn’t finish, instead gesturing vaguely with his right hand.

“Because this is how things work on our side of town,” Mike snapped. “What, are you really too chicken to visit some abandoned junkyard?”

“But it’s not abandoned!” Grant protested. The junkyard was haunted – but he didn’t say that part out loud. “I’ve heard about the creepy old man who lives there. Everyone knows there’s something wrong with that place!”

Jake rolled his eyes again. “Don’t be stupid. Mike and I both stole stuff from the junkyard for our initiation. The house there has been empty forever.”

“Yeah,” Mike agreed. “It’s covered in cobwebs from top to bottom.”

Grant was skeptical. Back when he lived on the other side of town, there were two people who’d seen the old man and lived to tell the tale. Sure, one was a half-blind crazy cat lady and the other was a seven-year-old boy, but Grant believed them. Since there was nothing for them to gain by lying, they had to be telling the truth.

Probably.

“Dude, it’s in and out,” Jake said. “Just grab a cool-looking piece of junk. If you keep stalling, then you go back to being the loser who sits alone at the front of class.”

The thought of sitting by himself at the front of class for the rest of his high school years was motivation enough. “Fine,” Grant muttered, turning on his phone’s flashlight. “But don’t you dare leave me here.”

“Just go,” Jake snapped, and Grant went.

The junkyard wasn’t far from where they’d met up. But by the time he reached the edge, Grant’s heart was practically pounding out of his chest. He was sweating so much he couldn’t keep a solid grip on his phone. He dropped it twice within a minute of entering the junkyard. He glanced at the house on the opposite side. It was empty.

That should have been a relief, but if anything it made him more terrified.

“One thing,” Grant muttered, hand quivering as he shined his phone’s light on the piles of scrap around him. “Grab one thing!”

A low creak echoed across the junkyard, and he froze. He slowly turned around, only to see that the door of the so-called empty house had swung open.

“Okay, don’t panic. It was just the wind!” Grant muttered, trying and failing to reassure himself. “Just the wind.”

He waited a full minute before moving again, as if standing completely still somehow made him invisible. When nothing happened, he continued to look over the scrap littering the area. He found himself hesitant to take anything. Stealing was wrong! Especially from a haunted junkyard. Whatever he took would probably curse him.

As he searched, Grant noticed something… Odd.

He had always been under the impression that scrap was usually thrown haphazardly into junkyards, never to be bothered with again by the person leaving it there. Yet here, the scrap seemed to be in… Neat piles?

There was rustling behind him, and Grant froze. He turned around, back stiff, only to see a short, elderly man standing behind him.

His green-tinged skin gave him a sickly pallor, and his gray hair was long and greasy. He was blind – both of his eyes were bleary, glazed over with yellow film.

Grant wanted to throw up.

Instead, he screamed at the top of his lungs and started running away, stopped by a bony hand grabbing his shoulder.

The old man opened his mouth, his jaw creaking and the smell of rancid meat filling the air. “Boy,” he rasped, “don’t you know that stealing is wrong?”

There was only so much Grant could take.

He passed out.

~*~

“Oh, I think he’s waking up!”

“Mm. Good.”

“Thank you again for bringing him home. I have no idea why he was at the junkyard in the first place.”

“It’s no trouble.

Grant groaned as he sat up. His head was pounding and his body felt like it had been crushed by a steamroller. His left shoulder was unusually stiff, like someone had glued his muscle to his bones.

“Easy, kiddo.” Grant recognized his dad’s voice. “You hit your head pretty hard last night.”

“I… What?” Grant rubbed his eyes, then jumped when he noticed an elderly man sitting at his desk. “Who are you?!”

“Whoa there, bud.” His dad laughed. “This is Mr. Grimes. He rescued you from the junkyard after you passed out.”

Not creepy at all.

Upon closer inspection, Grant realized that Mr. Grimes didn’t resemble the old man he’d seen in the junkyard. For one, his skin wasn’t green. And he was wearing coke-bottle glasses, so he wasn’t blind. Not yet, at least.

“Mr. Grimes said he found you facedown in the dirt right before sunup. You’re lucky he did, too. Your body temperature had dropped almost two degrees.” His dad glared at him. “And we’re going to have a long discussion later about why you were trespassing.”

Grant winced. “Yes, sir. I understand. I’m sorry.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.” His dad hesitated, then pulled him into a tight hug. “Thank God you’re okay. When you didn’t come home last night, I thought…”

“But I’m fine!” Grant interrupted. “I’m okay.” It was easy to forget that in many ways, he was all his father had left.

His dad ruffled his hair after letting go. “Alright, kiddo. I’m going downstairs to get water. Feel free to ask Mr. Grimes about how he heroically rescued you!”

Grant avoided eye contact with the old man as his father left. He noticed that he had not moved from behind the desk. “Uh… Thank you for bringing me home last night.” Although he wasn’t sure how the man knew where he lived.

That wasn’t something he wanted to think about.

“Oh, you’re welcome,” the old man replied. “May I ask what you were doing in that junkyard, Mr. Ashton? I’m sure you’re old enough to know trespassing is illegal.”

“It was this stupid initiation,” Grant mumbled, embarrassed. “Jake and Mike wanted me to steal something. If I didn’t, then they said they’d stop hanging out with me and I’d go back to sitting alone at the front of class. I’d probably have to eat lunch by myself, too.”

The old man nodded. “Mm. I see. Peer pressure. The desire to fit in, to be loved and appreciated by your friends. To not be laughed at or mocked.”

He sounded like a therapist. “I guess so?”

“Well, you should consider yourself lucky that you did not steal anything from that junkyard last night.” The old man chuckled. “Those who do rarely make it out. The spirits there do not take kindly to thieves.”

Grant instinctively pulled his covers closer to his chest, unsure of how to respond. Not that he dared to answer.

“Oh, you’ll be fine,” the man reassured him. He stood slowly from the desk, hobbling across the room towards Grant. He took off his glasses. “You can take these to your friends as proof of your success. If you’re feeling frisky, you can even tell them that you stole them from the house in the junkyard.”

Grant’s hand was shaking as the man put the glasses in his palm. “Thank you?”

“Mm. You’re very welcome.”

Grant looked up, biting back a scream as the old man’s skin began turning an all-too-familiar shade of green, his flesh hanging off his bones and aging him a hundred years. His clouded yellow eyes were covered in scars, blood welling at the corners.

Static started to close in at the edge of Grant’s vision, and he knew he was going to faint again.

The man grinned at him. He had only three teeth, rotten and coated with saliva. “Just don’t come back.”

The coke-bottle glasses fell from Grant’s hand and smashed to the floor as his entire body went limp.

~*~

Buy me a Ko-fi?

[dazeyrains2]

DECEPTION - A Multi Chapter, Hayffie fic - Prompt...POISON

Thanks @ellanainthetardis for the prompt.

....

DECEPTION PT1

....

Pt1 of Deception

Today was Thursday and Thursday's were quickly becoming Effies favourite day of the whole week in district 13.

Thursday's were when Coin held their weekly update meetings about Katniss and the war.

And Thurdays was also a day when they were allowed coffee!.

Astriss arrived a little later than usual with a full tray of steaming hot mugs and Effie couldn't stop the beam spreading across her face.

Whatever Coin was babbling on about did not matter to Effie for the next 10 minutes, because she would be holding a steaming mug of coffee between her hands and smelling the bitter sweet aroma of the black liquid and nothing was going to stop her from enjoying it.

"Thank you Astriss, you may serve" Coin six passively, waving at the girl with the tray.

Astriss was also quickly becoming Effies new favourite person.

Haymitch reached for a mug but Astriss batted his hand away...

"Not that one, that's for miss Trinket" The girl looked at Effie and winked "Double shot, just how you like it"

Coin cringed at the delightful squeal that came out of Effies throat.

"Oh Astriss, you are a pet!"

Haymitch grumbled something irrelevant and just took another mug.

"How come she gets two shots" he tutted and Effie jutted her bottom lip out towards him sarcastically

"Because Miss Trinket asked. And besides...she gives good makeup tips...tit for tat" she winked again

"Enough, Astriss" Coin begged "That will be all"

The girl left with a grin and a wave from Effie.

"Oh she's delightful" Effie trilled

Haymitch sipped his coffee and it tasted weak."Yeah, sure. Delightful indeed"

...

That evening in the cafeteria, Effie invited Astriss to join her and Katniss at their table for dinner.

"I don't think the woman dishing out this slop likes me very much" Effie grumbled over her tray of soggy vegetables and questionable meat. Katniss and Astriss peered over towards the serving station.

Effie had a point. If looks could kill. The woman behind the counter was throwing daggers at Effie almost too obviously.

"Has anything happened between you?" Katniss asked, knowing full well that Effie possibly brought it on herself, complaining about the food or something, but Effie shook her head.

"I know what you're thinking Katniss, but I've done nothing to offend that woman, just merely exist it seems"

Astriss lay her hand over Effies

"Hey, some of the people down here just haven't been able to accept the Captiol refugees yet" she sympathised "But if they want to live bitterly, then let them. You're a kind and generous person, Effie. They'll come to know it soon enough"

Effie smiled bright but her smile soon faded when she noticed the difference on her plate as to what was on Katniss's and Astriss's

"Look at that" Effie huffed, picking up a rather unusual looking slice of the rabbit meat that was on her plate. "Pure fat! And those vegetables look like they were drowned twice over..."

"Maybe she's just having a bad day and wants someone to take it out on?" Katniss suggested, but Effie wasn't bought.

"No, Katniss." Effie disagreed tiresomely "She's been treating me this way since I arrived here. Always taking my plate out of my hands and wandering off, only to return with what can only be described as leftovers fit for a mutt. I put up with it because I'm hungry, but heaven knows where shes getting my food from or what shes doing to it"

Astriss grabbed Effies plate suddenly and slid it towards herself "You're right Effie, this is disgusting and this is uncalled for, leave it with me"

Before Effie or Katniss could protest, Astriss was up and marching over to the counter to confront the woman.

The ladies couldn't hear what was said, but Astriss looked stern and the woman looked sheepish.

In less than a few more seconds Astriss had returned with a brand new plate full of healthy looking meat and fresh vegetables

"She won't be bothering you again Effie" Astriss beamed brightly "Not whilst I'm around"

Fair to say, Effie had just found her new best friend.

....

At dinner the next evening, the woman behind the counter barely made eye contact with Effie but Effies plate was returned to her bursting with fresh vegetables and dumplings.

On returning to her table, Effie couldn't help but feel suspicious.

"Saved you ladies some nice hot coffee!" Astriss smiled, sliding Effie and Katniss a cup each.

"Thanks Astriss" Katniss grinned but Effie was distracted by her thoughts

"She's smirking at me" Effie said, peering over her shoulder at the woman still serving the food.

"Effie, she's just smiling" Katniss assured "Maybe she's trying to make amends"

"What exactly did you say to her Astriss" Effie asked curiously

"I told her that if it wasn't for you slipping those golden tokens into the arena, then there never would have been an alliance with Finnick Odair, and Katniss and Peeta may not have trusted him and possibly not survived." Astriss stated proudly "I told her that the real hero here was you, no offence Katniss, and that she better start showing you some respect or I'd notify Coin of her behaviour"

Katniss and Effie shared a look but then Effie was beaming...

Astriss kind of reminded Effie of Katniss in some ways. Fearless, honest, brave and loyal.

"You're a good person Astriss" Effie smiled

Katniss agreed "Yeah, good job you're here"

...

Later that evening, just before she settled down to bed, Effie felt a whirring in her stomach and the room felt particularly warm that night.

She downed a glass of water, took off all of her clothes and crawled into bed, hoping the feeling would shift by morning.

The next morning, she felt no better but Coin had called an early 2nd meeting to discuss an urgent propo for Katniss, but Effie wasnt happy about it because it was still too soon, the girl wasn't ready. So, Effie had to be sharp and focused today and stand her ground.

She arrived late after spending the first part of the morning with her head over the toilet, but her excuses fell flat. Coin didn't strike anyone as a sympathetic soul.

"If you're under the weather, Miss Trinket, I suggest you sit this meeting out?" Coin challenged, but Effie was having none of it.

"No, no. I'm quite alright...go ahead"

But as Coin proceeded, Haymitch leant a little closer in to Effie and gave her a nudge.

"You sure you're ok?, I can fill you in later, you look a little pale?"

"That damn food server in the canteen" she seethed quietly "She's fed me rotten meat again, I just know it"

"Food poisoning?"

"I think so" Effie nodded "But I got the worst out this morning"

Haymitch turned his nose up at the thought.

"Vomiting, Haymitch" She assured "Not the other way yet...although, not too far off" The face he pulled as she rubbed her stomach was totally worth it. She chuckled at his reaction and told him she was kidding... but she wasnt kidding. Her insides felt alien.

"Just...drink plenty of water, ok" he suggested and Effie smirked curiously. Haymitch had never been one to care before... Ever!

"Ok" she nodded, and poured herself a glass.

As the meeting went on, the temperature in the room seemed to sky rocket. Effie could feel beads of perspiration running down the back of her neck.

"Look, just a few more weeks" Effie tried to argue "let's get her comfortable with that damn camera first, if you throw her in now, it'll be a disaster"

Haymitch had agreed with her, thankfully, but between the two of them and Coin and Plutarch, it was still two agaisnt two.

Plutarch tried to reason...

"Well, let's film rehearsal? She doesn't need to know the cameras are rolling, we might capture something good?"

"And if she figures it out-" Haymtich began until Effie interrupted

"Which she will! She will lose more trust in you than ever..." The room suddenly started spinning but Effie couldn't bow out now. "Look, just give her time"

"WE DONT HAVE TIME, TRINKET" Coin bellowed suddenly it was like a hammer had been smashed into Effies skull.

"Ouch! Why are you yelling!?"

Conversation erupted around the table but the voices seemed to become raised causing Effie to cover her ears.

Everything sounded weird and everyone seemed to be yelling now.

She pleaded one more time "Please stop yelling"

Confused eyes crossed the table to where she sat

"Stop moving, why are you all moving..." effie continued, trying to focus. The room felt like it was spinning

Haymitch reached out towards her, grabbing her wrist

"Effie, we're all sat down...no ones moving, no ones yelling...What's going on with you?"

Effie put her head in her hands for a moment, but as she tried to focus again, Haymitch noticed the blood

"Jesus ef! Your nose!"

Effie looked into her hands and saw a pool of sticky red liquid, she pressed her fingers above her upper lip and felt the blood running from her nose.

"Get her a tissue!" Coin ordered. Plutarch grabbed a box on the side and ran around the table to join Haymitch.

Hands were holding her arms for comfort but she didn't know who's they were as the room began to spin even more.

"I need to stand" she whimpered but Haymtich strongly protested

"I need to get out, it's too hot in here..." she begged

Her speech was slurred, Haymitch ordered one of the guards to fetch a doctor.

"Ok, let's get you up" He soothed "I'll walk out with you" But as Haymitch lifted her to her feet, Effies knees buckled immediately and she fell into his arms.

"Miss Trinket? What's happening?" Coin asked, looking to Haymitch for answers but he was just as clueless.

She was becoming a dead weight so Haymitch lay Effie down gently on the floor instead and whipped his sweater off to create a pillow for her head. That's when she started coughing.

"Turn her on her side!" Coin suggested

But as he did, her throat gargled painfully and she began to cough up blood. Not just a little...a lot...a whole lot. It started pouring out of her mouth.

"Effie!? Effie?!" Haymitch panicked now. He saw her eyes starting to roll into the back of her head "Stay with me, Ef. Come on, Breathe in! Breathe!"

Haymitch didn't know what to do or what to say, all he knew was that this doctor better hurry because this was no food poisoning or stomach bug, this was something else. Somthing far more sinister.

To be continued...

*what's going on with Effie!?? Will she be ok??? Find out soon... xx