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potteresque-ire · 3 years

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Hello. I just turned to be a turtle recently after being a solo fan mostly because of toxic atmosphere of solo fans. May I ask, were relationships between XZ and YB solos always so intense and also bad attitude to BJYX even during the promotion “the untamed”? Or did this conflict start after the events of 2020? Thank you in advance.

Hello, and Happy 2021! I’m a super new fan of the fandom, and so these aren’t questions I’m qualified to answer at all. I’m more comfortable providing some wider sociopolitical contexts to fandom-related events because I’ve been reading about Chinese news for a loooong time. My “investigative interest” (oh dear, that sounds so pretentious) is also more on understanding the CP culture in general, how it ties with the country’s state of affairs rather than focusing specifically on Gg and Dd. While I’ve read back on some history re: gg and dd’s fandoms, Tumblr is the only site where I’ve interacted directly with fellow fans.

But I’ve written up what I’ve understand about solo and CP fans for c-dramas so far, mostly for my own benefit (I have a ridiculously poor memory!). Maybe it can offer some insight? This is very new information to me as well; so, if anyone spots something wrong or wants to supplement, please jump right in!

Wars between the fans of the leads of a CP (“ship” in English; stands for “couple”) aren’t new. Conflicts between solo and CP fans also aren’t new.

Competition is the most obvious cause of wars between the fans of the leads of a CP. Especially in the case of M/M pairings, the person “bound” to each idol by their CP is also, by default, about the most “direct” competitor one can have. They’re likely to be of the same age group, share similar fan demographics. Popularity of young male idols (often called “Little Fresh Meat” 小鮮肉, a nickname I’ve abhorred for the decade or so it’s come to existence) also isn’t expected to last, so the two CP leads must make the most of their newfound fame within the same time frame. The competition is more than fighting for similar roles; in China, another major arena is endorsements, in which an idol’s popularity is by measured by 1) the number they hold and 2) the units they sell. Here in the US, stars choose their endorsements based on how well they fit their image; there, stars take as many as they can as long as the negotiated terms are satisfactory. Hence, dd is the spokesperson of 25 products / services in 2020 (including an insurance company (!!)).

I’ve also read about this norm in the industry, which I have yet to verify: in China, if two stars compete for the endorsement of the same brand product, the one who loses will not get endorsements of same products from different brands — at least, not in the short term — because any brand who uses the star who lost would be seen as inferior. Hence, to lose the competition on one endorsement deal can mean losing the endorsement deals for an entire category of products.

(Someone on Weibo has pointed this out: while Gg and Dd have often endorsed competing brands of the same product: Budweiser (gg) and Yenching beer (dd), for example; they have never fought for the endorsement of same brand product. Again, I haven’t verified this.)

This part is easy to understand.

The next question is: why are solo fans against CP fans? “Girlfriend fans” — solo fans who can’t bear to seeing their idol paired up with anyone other than themselves — only make up a fraction of the fandom. How are CP fans generally perceived?

My key findings so far: CP fans are *perceived* to be more likely to express negative views about their idol paired up with other actors / actresses, which will affect viewership and ratings, restrict the kind of roles their idol will be invited to play. More importantly, CP fans are *perceived* as fickle — more likely to walk away after their favourite CP drama has ended, because as CP lovers, they’re thought to be equally in love with the romantic gestures as with the stars who perform them on/off stage. ie, When another drama comes along featuring the same romantic gestures, the CP fans are expected to jump ship.

I highlight the word “perceive”, because while it doesn’t matter how solo fans see CP fans, it does matter how the business side of c-ent view CP fans and it appears to share this view. The c-YiZhan fandoms have been unhappy with the publicity of the upcoming adapted BL dramas for this reason — aside from their allegations that it’s copying The Untamed’s BTS, the thing that has offended them the most, perhaps, is the very idea that the marketing departments thought a few “leaked” photos of the leads acting intimately close are enough to woo them away from YiZhan, from Gg and Dd.

Given this, perhaps, prevalent view of CP fans, CP fandoms have been viewed as something disposable, almost, to be made, used and discarded quickly.

Before and during the airing of the drama, the marketing / publicity teams fuel and encourage CP fandoms, reap the benefits in viewership from the ensuing discussions and hot searches. Solo fans usually aren’t threatened by CP fandoms in this nascent phase—CP fandoms have been far smaller in size and only grow during the broadcast.

More importantly, the norms have been that CP fandoms do not last.

CP fandoms do have a tendency to “self-combust” over time: fans * within * the fandom accusing each other of being partial to one of the leads — spending more money on A’s endorsements, for example, or buying more copies of B’s music. However, this isn’t how many CP fandoms die. Instead, once the show is over, the process of “Breaking the CP” begins. I’m not sure who gets this process going, but my guess is the leads’ management companies, with consent (willing or unwilling) from the actors. Breaking the CP means having the CP leads avoid each other as soon as the drama is done airing, and for as long as it takes for the CP fandoms to dissipate. It means no more appearing in the same drama and shows; no more sharing a stage; and if they happen to be at the same event, they are to communicate as little as possible. This “loosening the bind” between the leads is designed to free the actors up for the next CPs, and its way of execution can be very abrupt, very … cruel for the CP fans. For one of 2020 summer dramas (Love and Redemption 琉璃), for example, a popular character (het) CP pairing was broken up in the last fan meet, 10 days after the final episode had aired. The fan meet was marketed as a CP event (there was even merch for the CP); CPs fans bought the tickets, perfectly aware of the unsaid “CPs are made to be broken” rule and it’d likely be the last time they’d see their CP together. But the organisers denied them even this last chance; the leads of the CP had no interactions, not even eye contact during the entire event. The actor didn’t acknowledge the actress in his farewell speech. The fans understandably got upset; even outsiders sympathised, stating that the CP-breaking could be handled with a little more consideration. Word on the street was that because the male lead already had other dramas lined up, the CP had to be broken up as quickly as possible.

(Weibo Night from almost a year ago was seen as a “Break the CP” event for Gg and Dd. Some turtles still cry at the memory of it.)

There’s a term related to the breaking of CPs: 提純 (“increasing the purity”). It describes the ultimate goal of breaking CPs: increasing the proportion of solo (”pure”) fans by breaking up the CP and having the solo fandoms of each lead absorb the CP fans. Because solo fans are *perceived* to be more loyal (won’t jump ship the next romantic drama comes along), less likely to draw criticisms (especially if the CP is M/M and/or affect the RL lives of their stars), and have more purchasing power (as CP fans have to divide their resources between the two leads and equally).

How does this affect how solo fans see CP fans? Another way to say the above is: one CP fan is one fan the two solo fandoms fail to capture. One more CP fan is one less solo fan. “CP fan” should be a temporary identity. CP fandoms sequester resources from the solo fandoms until they’re broken up.

This sets the stage for conflicts if the CP fandoms refuse to fade, if the CP fans refuse to turn solo.

The conflict between solo and CP fandoms is, of course, even more heated for real-person CP’s, which can, indeed, pose a significant threat to the leads’ life and career. An easy example of the former is if one of the CP leads are in a RL relationship, and/or if the lead is straight but the CP is queer (this is the case for The Guardian (2018), the first popular adapted BL “dangai” drama). Another major issue with real-person CPs (queer or not) is that the media will make frequent comparisons of the leads’ follow-up career. If the CP “bind” remains, the lead perceived as less popular may be viewed as using the more popular one to sustain their popularity. Fans of the more popular lead do not take that well. The management company of the less popular lead takes that even less well, and its PR team will work even harder to eliminate the CP from public discussion.

Overall, the “breaking the CP” strategy works as intended. As long as the CP leads stop interacting, no more new candies are generated for the CP fandoms, and even the best candies have an expiration date. The CP fans move on, often to other CP pairings—the CP breaking process often leave them hurt and disappointed at the leads—and further propagating the perception that they are fickle souls who prefer candies over actors.

With this background, it doesn’t surprise me that the relationship between the fans of Gg, Dd, and Yizhan has been so intense since the airing of the Untamed… it would actually surprise me (much) more if it isn’t.

First and foremost, if I take away my YiZhan-tinted lens (as much as I can anyway!), the competition between Gg and Dd automatically becomes The Battlefield in c-ent. Gg and Dd are among the most popular idols right now, and there’s a strong urgency in this competition as idol popularity is perceived to have a limited shelf life. Now, 18 months after The Untamed, Gg and Dd are not only vying for survival in the same industry—which may encourage cooperation between the two solo fandoms—they’re vying for the throne.

Things are already extra tense that way. Here’s an analogy I can think of—it’s easier to accept losing a lottery by getting every number wrong than getting a single number wrong, and by one count. It’s harder for solo fans to accept being number 2, when number 1 was a co-star, the other half of their idol’s CP.

Now, into this unresolved tension, throw in a huge curveball known as the YiZhan fandoms. A curveball that isn’t even supposed to exist — CP fandoms are all supposed to fizzle out quickly after the show is over. Instead, the BJYX supertopic on Weibo (by far the biggest of the three Yizhan CPs) had 1.5 million members in January 2020. It now has 2.8 million (January 2021).

(For reference, dd’s supertopic has 5.4 million members and gg’s, 7.7 million.)

These YiZhan fandoms aren’t merely living on their last breath, their stale candies. They’re thriving. Self-combustion hasn’t happened. CP fans of Gg and Dd keep finding fresh candies, keep having new things to rejoice and scream about.

If I put myself in the shoes of a solo fan, what does this continued growth of the YiZhan fandoms mean? It means the “binding” between My Idol and That-Other-Idol-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, each a contender of the c-ent throne, is strengthening instead of loosening. It means more and more fans of My Idol are exhibiting signs of wavering loyalty, by becoming fans of both My Idol and That-Other-Idol. Fan culture in China is highly organized, requiring strategy, cooperation and obedience when it comes to generating the best numbers for their idol (sells, ratings, viewership etc). Having to rely on the fickle CP fans to generate these numbers means uncertainty and anxiety.

People behave differently when they’re nervous. Some chew on their fingernails. Some attack.

2020, of course, make the solo fandoms even more nervous about each other. Gg, post-227, isn’t a safe person to be “bound to”, and also to have one’s career compared against—given the bad publicity that has circulated around him, given the fact that he has managed to stay on top in spite of it. Dd, meanwhile, has grown in popularity while Gg goes into hiding—while I personally do not, for a moment, believe Dd has anything to do with 227, it is within human nature to ask: if one loses—and in a manner so publicised, so catastrophic that even the Western media reported on it—who has the most to gain? Work culture in almost every industry in China is extremely cut-throat, and securing victory by not-so-clean methods isn’t uncommon with the immense pressure to perform. Fans are bringing in their experiences from RL in how they view their idol’s competition—with suspicion, with defensiveness. With swords sharpened and ready for counterattacks.

The ultimate cherry-on-top when it comes to causing conflicts between Gg’s, Dd’s and YiZhan fandoms is, of course, the fact that YiZhan is no garden-variety, heterosexual, character CP. It’s a M/M real person CP, in a society where homosexuality, while legal, is still considered “non-mainstream values” and explicitly censored from TV; where personal freedoms have overall been tightening and laws can change overnight. It’s one thing if their idol is truly in a queer relationship and chooses to announce it themselves; it’s a whole different story if it’s some fans of another idol who “out” them—who publicise their queerness that, in the eyes of these solo fans, may very well be fictional. 227 has already confirmed that in c-ent, idols pay the price of their fan’s wrongdoings and in this case, all it takes is for the YiZhan fandoms to make a single mistake—to celebrate one candy too loudly, for example (“to dance outside the circle”), and catch the attention of the wrong government official — to not only cost their idols their popularity, but their whole career. To the solo fans, therefore, the mere existence of the YiZhan fandoms pose a huge risk to their idol that should’ve been avoidable in the first place. And when they check out the new candies, what do they see? They see Gg leaving hints suggestive of Dd; they see Dd doing inexplicable things that can be linked to Gg. c-Turtles joke sometimes that solo fans are even better than they are at spotting the connections between Gg and Dd. But while turtles see these connections as evidences of a romantic relationship, what solo fans see is the other idol latching onto their own, whose fame makes it a reasonable act; they see it as the other solo fandom carelessly jeopardizing their own idol’s career for the sake of more noise and popularity.

The solo fandoms end up fighting. They have few reasons NOT to do so without the YiZhan-tinted lens.

That said though, I’m not sure if the wars between Gg’s, Dd’s and YiZhan fandoms are truly getting worse. As I write this, my thought is: perhaps it’s not that the fans are disliking each other more, but rather, more and more people are getting involved, and the stakes, the risks are becoming higher and higher. Gg and Dd both had fans during the filming of The Untamed, but they were a small fraction, quantity wise, to what it is now. Even if, at the time, 100% of Gg and Dd fans hated each other, they still wouldn’t have generated the noise than, say, if 0.01% of Gg’s fans are arguing with 0.01% of Dd’s fans now. The arguments then, however ugly they could be, would’ve stayed off hot searches, and largely within the two fandoms. These days, however, when even Gg shaking a pen can make it into hot search (as he did during the Tencent Awards), every heated exchange is amplified by passer-bys, by antis, by done-for-money re-bloggers. Quarrels snowball exponentially to the number of mouths pitching in; so does the antagonistic sentiments behind the hurtful words purposefully or accidentally spilled. Meanwhile, the c-YiZhan fandoms have reached the size that as much as they’ve tried to keep everything away from the public eye, it’s not really possible anymore. Search BJYX online, and videos after videos pop up for any outsider who wish to get a primer—and there’s no control over that content. Gg and Dd’s commercials hint at it. The Tencent Awards show host cued it. Before, the YiZhan fandoms may still be able to get away with a mistake or two. Now, they can make half a mistake and all the info already floating around will make sure that half a mistake will round to one.

If I were a solo fan, perhaps I’d scream my lung out too. Think of how terrible this all is, if Dd(Gg) is actually Gg(Dd)’s most fierce competition, as his being the other half of the CP is meant to be. Think of all the damages these fantastical speculations can do, if My Idol isn’t queer and tomorrow, the government comes down with a decree that outlaws queerness. Maybe My Idol will be spared if he isn’t at the top. But My Idol is at the top. Everyone will point to him. The hot searches will show his name, make sure the powers-that-be see it. He … his downfall… can be made an example …

Okay, okay, I’ll stop playacting here. Phew. That was scary * pats turtle shell to confirm its presence * :) . But can you see how deep that fear can go, for a fan who really, really loves and is therefore protective of their idol? How this fear, which stems from love, can turn into hate and generally loud, angry yelling across the internet?

#Anonymous #pie answers #pie metas #yizhan #bjyx

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azenkii · 4 years

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ATLA Fic Rec

because I've been spending way too much time reading it. Btw, this is a rec for gen fics and zukka fics.

Note: an asterisk after the description means that the fic or series is incomplete. (Sadly, this is a lot of them, but I'm pretty sure most of these fics are still currently updating.)

GEN:

Anything by MuffinLance is a must-read. my personal favourites are Salvage (where Hakoda ends up with one (1) grumpy new prisoner/crewmate/adopted son) and Little Zuko v the World (where Zuko is 12, and it's adorable).

The Family You Choose by TunaFishChris is a god-tier platonic soulmate au about zuko and the gaang, so like...go read that right now

The kintsugi series by discordiansamba is an AU where Toph's parents hire Zuko-as-Lee to be a bodyguard for her, and I love it so much. It has some of the best Toph-and-Zuko sibling bonding I've ever seen. *

Dragon Moon by Satirrian is a Dragon! Zuko AU and it's incredible. It also features Bounty Hunter Zuko, so do with that what you will. *

The What We're Given series by Haicrescendo is *chef's kiss*. It's an AU where Zuko flipped his father off early on into his banishment and started living his best life with Iroh. Enter the Gaang. Shenanigans ensue. *

The Internment series by Hannahmayski is another Zuko breaks free from his dad early AU, and it's also really good. Basically, Zuko was never given the option to capture the Avatar, making his banishment indefinite. He sails around with his crew fighting the Fire Nation and it's great. *

The best way to solve your problems (is to help someone else) by hewwodarkness is an AU where kids start disappearing in Ba Sing Se during Book 2, and Zuko takes it upon himself to do a little vigilantism. It's fantastic. *

The Blue Spirit AU series by H_Faith_Marr is an AU starting from, surprise surprise, the Blue Spirit episode. The Gaang takes in Zuko without knowing who he is, and the Power of Friendship™ goes to work on Zuko. *

The the first rule of earth kingdom fight club... series by ohmygodwhy is an AU where Zuko, among other things, fights in underground cage matches, meets Toph early, and realises that his dad might be wrong. It’s pretty funny and really good. *

The The Non-Existent Twin series by FoiblePNoteworthy is hilarious. It's an AU where Zuko poses as his own twin, Li, and the Gaang buys it hook line and sinker. *

The Guilt (The Jet Adopts Zuko AU) series by FoiblePNoteworthy is also really good. Like the title says, it’s a Zuko joins the Freedom Fighters AU. *

The new ways series by blueseam is just a Zuko and the Gaang bonding fic, mostly set in the Western Air Temple, with a side of Zuko not taking care of himself and the Gaang stepping up to the job. If you’re like me and am an absolute sucker for Zuko and the Gaang, go read this.

The Family Matters series by WinterSky101 is a really good fic if you’re looking for Hakoda and Zuko. That’s all I have to say: Hakoda and Zuko.

a nation, held by snowdarkred is a GREAT Fire Nation & Zuko fic - set before and during canon, not after it. Go read it, right now.

Notable mentions: a lot of works by naggeluide are gen and pretty funny, though if you don't headcanon any of the characters as LGBT+ you might not like some of them.

ZUKKA:

anything by Haicrescendo and dickpuncher420. For Haicrescendo, my personal favourite is the Carry On For You series, and for dickpuncher420, it’s love language.

sirens & sleepless nights by Satirrian is a modern AU that just borders on dystopian. Ba Sing Se has been overtaken by the Fire Nation, Zuko is a soldier who broke away from the Fire Nation and got shot for it, and Sokka finds Zuko on the street and brings him inside. It’s amazing, go read it!

do you take this jerk to be (your one and only) by jatersade is a fic that I’m 90% sure is on every zukka fic rec list, and it deserves to be. It’s an arranged marriage AU where Zuko is engaged to Yue, and Sokka is his cultural guide. *

midnight runs and other things by isamagicdragon is a modern AU where Zuko keeps sleepwalking into Sokka’s apartment. Shenanigans ensue. Also, top-tier Zuko, Mai and Ty Lee interactions. *

Unchained Melody by avocadolove is another fic that I see a lot on rec lists, and it 100% deserves it. It’s a long fic (as of now, it’s at 63.8k) and is an AU where Sokka, after getting taken to the Spirit World by Heibai, ends up as a ghost that only Zuko can see. Ft. great enemies-to-friends-to-lovers and an incredible plot. *

Ozymandias, King of Kings by Think_of_a_Wonderful_Thought is SO good. It’s an AU where, instead of being banished, Zuko was sent to work in a coal mine/prison, which eventually becomes the target of a Water Tribe raid after Aang’s return. It can get pretty dark, so watch out for that, and it’s really long (as of now, 168.8k). But trust me, it’s worth it. *

Heart Beat Here by thefangirlingdead is an adorable Modern AU oneshot where Zuko, while shopping for engagement rings with Katara, freaks out when Sokka lies about where he is. It’s a happy ending, don’t worry. One of my favourite fics.

feels like we only go backwards by oldpotatoe and A Certain Slant of Light by JustGettingBy are both amnesia fics where Sokka loses his memory several years after the war. They’re both so, so good. A Certain Slant of Light is finished, but feels like we only go backwards is not.

reality strikes, so bring back the night by zukkababey is a time-travel oneshot where Western-Air-Temple Sokka wakes up in the future to find his older self married to one (1) Fire Lord Zuko. Fluffy and funny.

maybe i just see you (in everything) by epicbubbles is a really cute Modern AU oneshot with love confessions and just fluff all around. 10/10 go read it!!

it’s the illusion of separation by argentoswan is a fic that has legendary status and it absolutely deserves it. God-tier Modern AU where Sokka ends up working at the Jasmine Dragon alongside his former high school bully, Zuko. (Kind of) enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, and it’s just...SO good. *

say you like your shirt soggy by crosspin is a reallyyy nice 5+1 fic. It’s Modern AU, and it’s pretty short (3.7k), but the amount of yearning that gets packed into that 3.7k,,,,*chef’s kiss*

and they were roommates by flydunes is another Modern AU where sokka puts up an ad for a roommate. Zuko moves in, and Sokka gets a crush. It’s just good vibes all around :) *

like blood from a stone by catalinacat is a Soulmate AU that took a completely different direction with the soulmate trope. The summary does a better job of explaining it than I can. *

absence of heat, excess of destiny by theycallmesuperboy is one of the best soulmate AUs out there. it’s not too long, only 4.3k words, but it covers the entire series and then some. Seriously, go read this.

it isn’t strange, but it’s true by theholyterror is a 5+1 post-canon fic with some of the best pining I’ve ever seen, ft. Ambassador Sokka and Fire Lord Zuko. The 5+1 is times Zuko went out of his way to touch Sokka. *

like the sun inside of you by ofherlionheart is another post-canon fic, and it’s incredible so far. the first chapter alone is 23k, so it’s already a decently long read. *

the stemverse: earth science zuko au series by acezukos is a REALLY good Modern/University AU. So far, it only has one work (earth system history) but that work is already *chef’s kiss*. The series is incomplete, but earth system history is complete!

rebellion’s such a hushed affair by zeitgeistofnow is a fantastic Modern AU that, like sirens & sleepless nights, borders on dystopian. Actually, I think it is dystopian, but it hasn’t been tagged as such. Anyway, 10/10, go read it right now immediately

Mark Time by foil is a Modern AU where Sokka ghosted Zuko years ago, and they get brought back together by Aang and Katara’s wedding. It’s really good, but the fic has some pretty heavy content, so make sure you read the warnings. *

That birds would sing and think it were not night by HisMomoness is a Modern AU that has Zuko tutoring Sokka, with absolute top-tier pining. Like, seriously, the pining is insane. Superr good

this love burns so yellow (becoming orange and in its time, exploding) by meliebee is one of the best post-canon fics I’ve ever read. It features a civil war in the Fire Nation (that gets resolved about halfway through) and some great Toph and Zuko interactions, as well as some Grade A pining.

boy problems by burnt_oranges is FANTASTIC post-canon and has sokka and zuko in an accidental arranged marriage, plus some attempted assassinations. It’s great.

zuko vs the homie sexual agenda by parmigiano has Zuko and Sokka pining for each other in Ikea. Do I need to say more?

Friendship Bracelets by peachcitt is a Modern AU best friends to lovers. Pretty short (4.9k), but the pining is immaculate.

isn’t this the vision that you wanted by nebulastucky is INCREDIBLE, I read it recently because it just got completed and it’s *chef’s kiss*. It’s post-canon ft. mutual pining and some reallyyy good ‘and there was only one bed’ scenes.

Real Slow and no one knows anything but us by surveycorpsjean and quidhitch respectively are two of my favourite post-canon Ambassador Sokka and Fire Lord Zuko fics. Go check them out!

The Duke’s a Hazard by naggeluide is a really nice AU starting from the Western Air Temple, where the Duke decides that Sokka and Zuko are now his new parents. They bond over coparenting, and the (kind of) enemies-to-friends-to-lovers is really good. Plus, it’s funny.

Those Who Favor Fire by CSHfic and VSfic is a really good fic of the Spymaster Sokka AU. If you don’t know what that is, it’s an AU where Sokka fakes his death and goes undercover in an organisation that wants to kill Zuko.

Fics I added after posting (so far, all Zukka):

The Road Between Action and Inaction by Donvex is a fic that I can't believe I left out the first time?? It's a modern hitchhiking AU and it's great.

Rituals of the Ocean Floor by Donvex is a nice one too. It's only around 2.2k words, but it's a Fox Spirit!Zuko and Sharkman!Sokka AU, and I just really like the writing style.

by the stars above, i knew we were in love by theycallmesuperboy and The Fate of Nations in Our Hands by sapphic_ambitions are both top-tier post-canon fics. Be warned: by the stars above is a liiiittle bit angsty.

blue's clues by parmigiano is a really good Modern AU where Sokka, a university student journalist, gets ahold of the phone number of the Blue Spirit, a new campus vigilante. He ends up talking to the Blue Spirit to get an interview out of him, and it's really cute!

Honourable mention: the Avatar Zuko series by the_cloud_whisperer is one of the best series I've ever read, and it's really long - it got completed about a month ago, with 493.6k words in total (415k if you ignore the extra work made up of author's notes). It develops all the characters really well, especially Lu Ten, but the main ship is Zukaang. Personally, my biggest problem with Zukaang is the age difference, and Aang is aged up to be Zuko's age (or older, I think? I don't really remember) in this. I kept reading it because the plot was too good to give up, and I do highly recommend it, but yeah.

I’ll add more fics if I remember them, but this is what I had bookmarked. Also, shameless self plug here because I also write ATLA fic @ azenki on ao3

#atla #zukka #fic rec #zukka fic rec

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xenteaart · 4 years

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Messy

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Summary: You and Five got headhunted by the Handler after she’d rescued the two of you from the apocalypse. You are basically partners kinda like Hazel and Cha-Cha except there’s a much stronger bond between you two because you had to spend around 10 years surviving the apocalypse side by side prior to your involvement with the Commission.

(So both Five and reader are now 23-25 ish).

Warnings: blood, mentions of violence

Note: this is a very random thing and pls keep in mind i’ve never written five before so i’m not quite sure how to capture his character yet but i just couldn't get this image out of my head so. ALSO i used someone’s headcanon about five’s skin burning after his spatial jumps and i’m so sorry i can’t remember who it was but THANK YOu for this hc it’s amazing. enjoy!

also you can check out my headcanons and kinda background story for this fic here !

This particular mission had gone unnecessarily bloody a bit too quickly. You and Five were very well-trained hitmen since the Handler made sure you got the best of the best as your mentors, and you were usually quite efficient when it came to taking someone out - always clean shots, always fast and professional. Part of the reason why you both tried to be as precise as possible was your still present humanity. You never really wanted to be doing this job in the first place but as Five once told you during your breakdown over how big of a mistake accepting the deal was - there’s no good guys or bad guys, there’s just people going about their lives, and making the deal was the only way out of that nightmare you two were living. The least you could do was make people’s deaths as quick and painless as possible.

This night, however, happened to be an exception from your familiar well-established shoot-from-afar-and-be-done routine. Your victim had noticed the both of you way before you needed him to which resulted in him bringing some unexpected company that you had to deal with. Of course, you were trained for all sorts of gone-wrong scenarios but it never gave you any thrill or pleasure. In fact, you hated when things got messy and you had to use your own hands to snap necks and crack bones.

You and Five were now heading back to the motel, quite literally soaked in blood, your suits so badly stained it was easier to throw them away and get new ones instead. The deafening silence in the car was starting to give you a pounding headache on top of the one you already had from your mission, and Five’s palpable tension right beside you was not helping.

He was the one driving this time, his eyebrows were knitted together, his lips tightly pressed into a thin line of bottled anger and something that resembled disappointment, although you couldn’t quite riddle out the exact emotion that was painted over his features.

“My skin is on fire.” Five uttered, exhaustion and hints of pain seeping through the crack in his voice. It tended to happen when he did too many spatial jumps, his gift turning into a curse and causing him so much physical discomfort he could barely breathe as the rearranging atoms were dancing across his skin and settling back into the state they were supposed to be in.

Being put in the circumstances the two of you got put in meant you had gotten insanely close. Taking care of each other's health and mental well-being in the ashy remnants of what used to be your home would not have been possible if you hadn’t figured out a way to get comfortable around each other and improved your communication skills to perfection. At this point in your relationship there was barely anything you couldn’t do in front of each other, nudity now seeming a laughable reason to feel embarrassed or awkward.

Naturally, as you finally stepped foot into your motel room, the only two things you and Five could think about were getting rid of your bloody clothes and running yourselves a bath. You always made it cold to help soothe Five’s burning skin and relieve the excruciating ache that came after especially challenging missions. Besides, the temperature often helped you sober up and clear your mind a little so it was perfect for both of you.

As soon as you and Five got into the bathtub, a loud sigh escaped his lips as he buried his face in his knees and wrapped his arms around his legs, quite literally turning into a shaking ball of pain and irritation. Sometimes even he questioned whether agreeing to work for the Commission was the brightest decision in the long run.

“C’mon, give me your hands,” you whispered, gently brushing over his fingers and leaning towards him; your pose now mirroring his as you pressed your knees to your chest. The water was slowly turning into a pinkish shade as the dry blood was starting to come off your skin and dissolve into it. Five simply looked up to meet your gaze and complied without saying a word.

You took his hands and began to gently rub them in circles, still careful not to inflict too much pain on his already hurting skin while delicately scrubbing off the evidence of your tonight’s misadventure. You knew he hated having blood on his hands just as much as you did, the crimson stains serving as a frustrating reminder of the price you had to pay to escape a lifetime of being stranded in a lifeless world, surviving off scraps and sleeping on the cold ground.

As you reached your small pocket knife that was resting on the nearby sink, you started to clean the blood from under Five’s fingernails, the knife’s blade thin enough to get all of it out but not nearly sharp enough to cut his flesh or hurt him at all. Doing that felt a lot like meditation in its own way. You were way too focused on caring for Five’s hands and getting them clean to let any disturbing thought intrude your mind and throw you off balance. It worked for him too as he was quietly watching your own hands move slowly and steadily as you were taking your time.

The silence between you shifted into something a lot more comforting and peaceful (all things considered), and you could feel Five’s shoulders drop a little as he relaxed more and more into your caring touch.

“You okay?” he asked matter-of-factly, even though you knew he was downplaying it mostly to avoid facing the reality of how shit the situation you two ended up in actually was. Also, you knew he cared. A lot.

Instead of replying, you simply gave Five a weak smile as if to say “you already know the answer but I appreciate you asked anyway” and leant in to press your forehead against his, such close proximity of his face to yours never failing to make you calmer no matter how hard things had gotten. You timidly rubbed your nose against Five’s, brushing over its slightly crooked shape with your tip and moving all the way up to his still furrowed brows.

“Okay, but this is just silly,” he rolled his eyes, unable to resist a soft smile which made a dimple on his cheek deepen a little as the corner of his lips curved in a tired yet somewhat amused expression.

“You’re welcome,” you replied with a nod and planted a light kiss on his cheek before returning your full attention to his bloody fingernails.

Five looked at you with infinite gratitude and almost adoration, still genuinely surprised at how comfortable and safe he felt around you, considering he never let any other human being come even remotely as close as you did.

He never properly said it, never addressed how he felt about you, and quite frankly - he didn’t even know what to call your relationship. But he did know that sitting in a cold bath in a cheap crappy motel in the middle of nowhere felt more like home than anywhere else merely because you were right next to him, and for now he couldn’t ask for more.

#tua #tua fic #The Umbrella Academy #umbrella academy fandom #five hargreeves x reader #number five x reader #five hargreeves #number five #umbrella academy fanfic #reader insert #my writing #my fic #five x reader

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lovelivingmydreams · 4 years

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My king au headcannon Part two

So this is the follow up to this post Which is a headcanon for this au created by @rondoel Enjoy!

Something to think about The king was meditating. He was trying to familiarize himself with the mindscape again, get a better feeling of it and see what his halves had done since the split. He was sorely disappointed. There were pages upon pages of ideas, but he found no evidence of them in the fantasy realm. No traces of the epic quests the ‘light’ half had envisioned, despite how well worked out they appeared. An ‘Ultimate Storytime’ should have left traces in the kingdom. Remus at least lived out his ideas even if they were only ever half formed and lacked substance beyond the initial impulse that brought them about. The results of these outbursts weren’t all that impressive either. He didn’t examine the ideas too closely. Obviously his perfectionistic half had abandoned them for a reason and so they weren’t worth his time. The one named Roman had spent some time in the fantasy realm, but he didn’t considered it his main duty. Instead he’d wasted time on crafting ‘ideas’ and ‘bonding’ with the others. Even the impulsive Remus had prioritized interacting with Deceit over expressing himself. Disgusting. Not that he could truly fault either of his halves. Other than his purpose every trace of him had been purged from their minds during the split. They hadn’t known to distrust the others the way he knew they should’ve. Obviously the others were to blame for all this.

As he thought of them he could feel his minister’s energy surging and subsiding in subtle burst and raging waves. One of Roman’s nickname for him ‘Stormy Knight’ seemed to suit the boy quite well at the moment. The minister was mostly alone, aside from morality. Someone had to babysit him he supposed. Suddenly he became aware of music… something strange yet familiar. “Disney. Medley.” A faint memory offered him. He remembered Disney. It was his aspiration to create worlds and adventures just as amazing for Thomas to escape to when the real world inevitably bored him. Clearly he hadn’t been gone long enough for that to change. Though he didn’t recognize the melody that was currently playing, even though he could tell that it wasn’t something obscure and nearly forgotten to Thomas. The entire imagination responded to the melody as if it was an old friend. Almost as if it was born here even. There were voices singing, a magnificent harmony. Powerful and foreboding. He followed the sound of the voices and soon saw a structure appear. As he approached he found it was a massive statue expertly carved from marble. Center stage stood a figure he recognized as Thomas holding his hands in front of him to form a heart. A brilliant smile on his face. It was heartwarming to see his boy like that. To Thomas’ left stood grown Morality with one arm thrown over his shoulder and another pulling the hooded side, Anxiety, his minister, into the group. The young side allowed it with a small smirk and gentle eyes directed at their protégé. On Thomas’ right stood Logic, a steady hand on the boy’s shoulder as he adjusted his glasses, which did not conceal the fond look on the man’s face. On Logic’s right stood Deceit, his back slightly turned to the rest and adjusting his hat, but also with a soft, caring expression gracing his features. Then right behind Thomas, standing slightly taller than they would have in reality, seemingly standing on a stage behind the group, but close enough to still be part of the ensemble, was him. Or the two sides that had been him for a while. Roman looked regal and was posing as though he had not a care in the world, his eyes proudly overseeing his subjects. Not minding the presence of Remus who was hanging of his ‘brother’s’ shoulders and making a face. It was an idyllic picture that never was and now never could be. There was beauty in it’s tragic impossibility. At the feet of the stone depictions were stone letters. Fam in cursive and then in big bold lines ILY. And leaning against the L was the minister, singing the song that had lured King away from his meditation. The shadows around him were aiding in his musical endeavor drifting around him and the statue. King took in the marvel once more, wondering how the nervous side had managed to create such a blessing with what should’ve been a cruel curse for at least a few more days before King would grant the young one his council and guidance. He hadn’t enjoyed being cruel to him. Not entirely. Sure, he had opposed creativity in the past and deserved to be disciplined. But king also knew how integral he was to the process. Roman’s discoveries regarding that weren’t lost to him. He couldn’t silence Anxiety completely. He would not get Thomas to go on adventures at all if he did so. But he had to teach him his place now, before he got any ideas of fighting him. The minister had been about to try just that and might have been successful too if he’d gone all out at once. But luckily he seemed unaware of his own abilities, or at least unwilling to use them on what he still thought to be the twins he’d known all his life. Alas he’d never get the opportunity again. “It all can be sold!” the shadows chorused around the teen-like side, captivating baby Morality with their movements as the little one clutched to the dark uniform and distracting King from his musings. “As a specimen yes I’m intimidating!” One voice continued, drifting around the side who was swaying to the music playing in his headphones with his eyes closed, holding onto Morality and then the dark clad side sang himself. “You can blame my friends on the ooootheeeer siiiiiiiiiide.” And just like that the shadows dispersed. Mostly anyway. They still swirled around the minister, but they were more of a dark aura than when they originally manifested. Anxiety seemed to be in better spirits than when he came to offer his ridiculous apology to Roman. King barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the memory. What a waste of time. Still it had been sincere, at least it seemed to be. And King wasn’t completely insensitive. He could understand that it would be hard for this young one to let go of his halves when he had never known them as one. Perhaps, King could cut him a little slack. Though he would have to remain vigilant… Hmmm, why did that word feel so odd when thinking about… Right, Virgil. Everyone had names now. Not that he cared much for those. Names were too… Names were for friends, allies. He didn’t need a name, nor did his subjects. Lest any of them forget who was in charge. King wouldn’t. Never again. The infant noticed that they were no longer alone in the room and tugged at Anxiety’s hair to get his attention. In response Thomas’ guardian pulled off his headphones and looked down at the heart. “What’s wrong popstar… or… Well, doesn’t really fit right now I guess,” Anxiety chuckled a little sadly. “Guess I’m more the dad now than you, huh?” he mused. “When this is all over, I promise I’ll never complain about you treating me like your kid again.” There was an uneasiness forming in King’s stomach. Anxiety was close with Morality, both Roman and Remus remembered that. But… how close was Morality with Anxiety? King knew that their ‘moral compass’ could be as two faced as Deceit. No, this could be part of an elaborate plan to gain his trust, he’d fallen for it once before. And of course they’d send Anxiety to do their dirty work now that all of them had already shown him their true colors. Little Morality pointed at King and Anxiety looked up, curious at first and then his eyes widened in fear. He put the child behind him and stood in a strange mixture of a respectful bow and a defensive stance. Arms slightly spread to shield his friend and head raised so he didn’t quite let his eyes leave King’s frame. “I…I’m sorry if I was too loud,” Anxiety offered with trembling voice, assuming he’d angered his king someway. Good. King approached, not sure if he was in the mood to scold or to praise just yet, but stopped about three steps in front of Anxiety as his foot hit something. He looked down and saw that the floor surrounding his minister was covered in sketches. He looked up at Anxiety with a raised brow, curious to hear what had brought on this little storm of creativity. And he found him staring at the sketches around them in horror. Then he seemingly felt the structure behind him, he turned and looked up in horror, trembling even harder. He looked back at King with wide eyes. “I…I didn’t mean to…” he started. “Then I look forward to see what you create for me when you intend to do so young one,” King mutters calmly, as he bids one of the drawings to come to his hand. As far as he can tell it’s two children playing in a forest. “Tell me about this one boy,” he instructs as he shows Anxiety the drawing. The side takes the sketch with a frown and looks at it for a moment before a small smile of recognition appears on his face. “I’d manifested for about two months. Remus felt it was about time I came on an adventure,” he starts explaining, and as he does the drawing rises up and gains colors and details that weren’t there before. Anxiety didn’t seem to notice, too captivated by his own memory as he described how freaked out he was by the forest and all its creepy creatures. Remus never let a single one touch him though. Still, it was stressful for him and he didn’t come along as often as Remus would like. The painting showed two preteens, Remus and Anxiety, the later clutching a comfort item, pillow or blanket, King wasn’t sure, maybe it was a stuffed animal. They were running around and laughing. But in their shadows Anxiety was curled up in a ball and Remus was making a gesture as if he’d just popped out and screamed ‘boo’. A lovely memory with a shadow side. But that was the nicest thing Anxiety could create with the power King had granted. Once the story was done and the painting finished, King snapped his fingers and conjured a dark wooden frame with a vine pattern around it and hung it on a non-existent wall. “I’m sorry, I know you said to get rid of the feelings, but I… I can’t… I always mess up like this please I…” Anxiety flinched when King reached out for him. Curling into himself, expecting another curse or some other punishment perhaps. Which is probably why his posture relaxed and his face was overcome with confused surprise when all he received was a brief pat on his hair. “You may not have gotten rid of those feelings but you did something even better,” King laid a hand on Anxiety’s shoulder and looked down on him. “You made something out of them. I am very pleased with you,” he informed his disciple. Anxiety looked up at him confused. “Really?” he asked, his voice breaking over the single word. Before King could answer, a displeased cooing pulled Anxiety’s attention away. He turned around and picked up the infant who immediately latched onto his neck and stared at King over his shoulder. Clearly the infant retained enough of Morality’s adult thoughts to be wary of him. Good it wouldn’t be a proper curse if the traitor wasn’t aware of the danger King posed to him and his precious family. King grinned menacingly at Morality, hoping it’d confirm the child’s worst fears about his intentions for who he apparently considered a son. What could be worse than agonizing over the fact that your sins would result in an innocent paying for them? For that innocent to be your child of course. “Please Pat, behave alright?” Anxiety muttered as he got up and turned back to the king. “Sorry… Your majesty. He’s a bit clingy,” the young man offered nervously. “Not your fault. I don’t quite understand why Logic and Deceit would leave the care for such a fussy child to their youngest.” Not quite true, King could perfectly see how they thought they had to concentrate on finding a weapon against him that they hadn’t tried already. But still. One would think that the two oldest should be in charge of protecting both their young ones, instead of letting them wander off into the territory of their enemy. If Anxiety had failed to entertain him with his tale, who knows what he would’ve done to amuse himself during this second visit? Maybe he’d put morality in a bit of a dilemma… He might still do so if he ever needed for Anxiety to see that his ‘dad’ didn’t love him as much as he always claimed. “Taking care of him keeps my mind occupied. I don’t want to give Thomas nightmares or anxiety attacks. He doesn’t deserve to suffer for our messes,” Anxiety explained. King might be mistaken, but that almost sounded accusatory. He elected to ignore it. Once his rule was properly reestablished, he could revisit the subject if at all necessary, which he doubted. “Well, creating art seems to do the trick just as well,” he mused as he called forth another picture. Anxiety guessed what he wanted, looked at the picture and started to talk about the movie night and a popcorn fight, then a duel with cardboard swords and laughing about memories of middle school. The colors once again revealed a pleasant day, with a shadow of self-doubt and fear of abandonment. The shadows showed Anxiety pleading on his knees while Roman threatened him with a sword. This time the frame King made was golden and held roses. “C…Can I ask something milord,” Anxiety asked timidly. “Questions are always welcomed in the realm of creativity,” King decreed. Questions created possibilities. “What happened? Before the split I mean? The other’s won’t ever tell me.” That surprised King. And from the way Morality stiffened, he had to assume it was the truth. They’d really not taken the chance to sway Anxiety’s opinion in their favor? For a moment he considers spinning a grand tale of betrayal and heartbreak, but he found the very thought of recalling the details of the events leading up to the split… unpleasant. “I trusted them and they turned against me because they disagreed with my vision for Thomas,” he informed Anxiety calmly, hoping it was enough for now. “I’m sorry. That… That is terrible,” he whispered hugging Morality closer. The young minister couldn’t see it but there were tears in Morality’s eyes. Which pleased King. Let the bespectacled traitor be afraid this may end up being the last hug he’ll ever receive from his precious Anxiety. Was this why they didn’t tell him? Because they knew that there was no spin they could give to their deeds that wouldn’t destroy the trust they’d built with the one among them who already feared being betrayed. “I… It was a long time ago. I think… Logan seemed very ashamed of what happened. Even Janus seems to feel bad. I’m sure… can’t we all…” Anxiety struggled to express his desires, but a new drawing showed what he wanted. King and Logic shaking hands amidst the others, all back to normal and smiling relieved. Faint shadows of Roman and Remus with an arm around one another’s shoulders right behind King. The fact that his minister’s powers had conjured it showed that the desire felt impossible. King dismissed this drawing in favor of another. Anxiety sighed, accepting that the subject was finished, and continued to regale him with stories of the twins. Sometimes it was a sad memory where the shadows revealed his care and worry for them both. Like a fight over a failed audition where shadow Anxiety was trying to patch up shadow Roman. Or a fight about a nightmare where the shadow of Anxiety was embracing Remus. Then memories of the other’s came. A debate about negative thoughts where shadow Logic laid a hand on shadow Anxiety’s shoulder as a gesture of pride. A staring match with Deceit but their shadows were reaching for each other. One memory had no shadows. The ‘lights’ were in Anxiety’s domain and reaching out for him as he sat huddled in on himself on the ground. The image was conflicted enough on it’s own. Then King picked up a drawing of Morality. “That’s the first time you came to talk to me remember Pat?” Virgil coed to the child who’d been rather quiet during the creation of this gallery. Anxiety recalled how he’d been upset about another fight with Roman and he’d come over and sat with him in silence. Then he’d offered him one of his cookies. It had surprised Anxiety, he knew how much Morality loved his cookies. Sharing one was his standard gesture of love and appreciation. But Anxiety felt like he didn’t deserve either at the time. He felt trapped in a role he didn’t want to play. And because of Morality talking to him that day, for the first time, he thought that maybe he didn’t have to be. Anxiety talked more about how the thought was quickly dismissed as unrealistic but King found that it was hard to focus. The colors revealed a painting of a side being offered a hand by Morality. He didn’t even notice the shadows this time. It was like he was trapped in his own memories. Then suddenly, he was back in the present and heard something beside him. A wailing child and someone gasping for air like they’d ran a marathon at full speed. He looked down and found Anxiety curled up in a ball, rocking back and forth with a crying Morality sitting next to him clutching onto his arm. Before he could wonder what had happened he could feel the others approaching at high speed. He stepped back, not wanting to be found too close to the distressed side. He could not allow them to think for even a moment, that he felt a second of worry for the minister. He didn’t, but he didn’t need the implications of such a show of weakness to bring his strength into question. “Patton! Virgil!” Deceit called out, causing Morality to calm down and just let out a few more sniffles. King set up a disinterested mask and turned to the approaching sides. “Oh good, deal with this. They bore me,” he drawled calmly as he stepped aside. He was barely acknowledged which he normally would take offense in, but he’d let it slide until he knew what had happened just now. And if it had anything to do with that terrible feeling that had struck him when he saw Anxiety’s drawing. Logic kneeled next to Anxiety and Deceit spoke with Logic’s voice. “Virgil, can you hear us?” The boy nodded. “May we touch you?” Another nod and Logic placed his hands on the side’s shoulders. “Breath Virgil, in for 4, hold for 7 out for 8, you can do it.” One more nod and the side started to follow the rhythm that was tapped on his shoulders, stuttering trough the 4th count of holding his breath. “That’s alright, try again.” King observed as the two patiently helped Anxiety to breathe normally again. Somewhere along the line the troubled side started to whisper ‘sorry,’ and ‘so stupid’. “You are not stupid, your feelings are valid and we are here to help you with them. We shouldn’t have left you on your own. Especially not with him around,” Deceit growled, now in his own voice, before turning to King. “I don’t care what you do to me, but leave Virgil out of this! He has nothing to do with this.” Before king could retort. Claim the responsibility and remind Deceit that he’ll play with his minister however he likes, the boy spoke up himself. “Not his fault. Just, random attack,” he muttered. Deceit and King looked down and found Anxiety holding onto Logic with Morality trying his best to stand on wobbly legs while holding onto the purple sash adorning the minster uniform. Logic and Morality were staring at him accusatory, but Anxiety was pleading with Deceit. “You don’t have to defend him Virgil. We know what he’s like… And we’ll do a better job at protecting you now. I swear. Let us look out for you for once, please,” Deceit pleaded. So interesting. For all Anxiety’s fears of being abandoned and betrayed, the others seemed to fear for his safety before their own. Had they changed? Or had Anxiety not yet given them sufficient reason to be muzzled? Or was it his drastic decision of muzzling himself that had made them cautious of messing with his part of their duties? “I’m not. Jan look at me. You’d know if I was lying. He was just listening to me. He didn’t do anything bad. I promise.” Deceit frowned confused. “He didn’t do this to harm you? To cause you to create…” Finally Deceit really looked at what King and Anxiety had been working on and the statue Anxiety had done all by himself. “Virgil what…” “I don’t know, I was listening to music and all this just sort of happened. His majesty was helping me finish some drawings,” he explained, confusing King. Was he… what’s the term? Covering for him? Then Anxiety got up, picking up Morality and looking at Logic who followed his movements, hands hovering around him. As if he were afraid that the younger side would fall apart at any moment. “Please, just go back alright, I’ll be fine. Thanks for helping but you should focus on making sure Thomas is alright,” Anxiety explained bravely, not quite looking at the others. Had recalling all his doubts and fears made him suspicious of the others? This could benefit King greatly. “Run along now. And take Morality. I have matters to discuss with my minister. In private,” King informed Logic and Deceit. Anxiety looked from King back to his tutor and confidant and offered him Morality. Logic shook his head with wide eyes. “Logan, it’s alright. You look after Pat for a minute. I’ll be back soon. Just… Please trust me?” Logic hesitated, sighed in defeat and took the child. He moved to leave, but paused. He turned and laid a hand on Anxiety’s shoulder, a moment passed while the two held each other’s gaze. Anxiety nodded and patted Logic’s hand. “I will be safe. When am I ever not?” Something that would have been a chuckle rippled through Logic’s chest as he stepped away and started walking back to the commons, glancing back every ten steps or so. “Virgil… I…” Deceit started, unable to finish the thought. “I know. I’ll be okay.” And with that final assurance and a distrustful look towards King the last of the traitors left. “Why?” King wondered. It seemed obvious to him that whatever Anxiety just went through was actually meant for him. And not only had he taken the hit, he had covered for him as well. “I’m anxiety, taking on the insecurities and fears of the others is part of my job. I don’t take it all, just the really bad bits when I can take it. And… it took me forever to open up to the others about my own attacks. It wasn’t my place to share about yours. It’s nothing personal. Just me being professional I guess,” he shrugged casually. King allowed himself a small smirk and once again reached out to pat Anxiety’s hair. Once more the boy’s first instinct was to flinch, but he still let him do as he pleased. “Well done my boy. You have potential,” he told him before returning his attention to another drawing, leaving the one of Morality frameless. Later he might tell the little one a bit more about the betrayal. But first. He needed to get to know him better. “Now how about this one.”Being petted like a dog was degrading, humiliating. Trying to not just be civil towards him but formal and respectful was torture. But it was better than what he feared would happen every time the King moved his hand towards him. Virgil didn’t like being changed against his will and this king would do as he pleased with him. Which is why he had to keep him happy and away from the others. He ignored the urge to smile every time he received the king’s praise. He is not going to develop Stockholm Syndrome just because off a few half-baked complements. This guy is still a threat to Thomas… Even if the others, maybe made a mistake in the past and have a hard time owning up to that right now. Fact remained that Virgil’s job was to keep everyone safe. That meant making them not want to decapitate the king over an anxiety attack he hadn’t triggered on purpose. Still… What had triggered the attack?

#Rondoel #king au #sanders sides #Virgil Sanders #king creativity #Patton Sanders #Logan Sanders #Janus Sanders

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roman-writing · 3 years

Text

bring home a haunting (1/12)

Fandom: The Haunting of Bly Manor

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Taylor

Rating: M

Wordcount: 11,511

Summary: Dani almost has her life together, when a familiar face arrives back in town after ten years. A childhood friends AU written with @youngbloodbuzz

read it below or read it on AO3 here

“The sweetest thing in all my life has been the longing — to reach the Mountain, to find the place where all the beauty came from — my country, the place where I ought to have been born. Do you think it all meant nothing, all the longing? The longing for home? For indeed it now feels not like going, but like going back.” - CS Lewis, Till We Have Faces

—

I: 1987

—

The sound of water sloshing through the pipes was a constant drone in the air. Dani stared at herself in the mirror. Her hand rested on the tap, holding it open. Steam crept in along the edges of the mirror as hot water continued to stream into the white porcelain bathroom sink, pale tendrils framing her face like smudged fingerprints against the glass. She was still dressed in pajamas, her hair a rumpled mess. There were dark shadows beneath her eyes. Her face felt puffy and her stomach heavy, but above all else she just appeared tired.

There was movement behind her. The bathroom door opened and her head jerked up in surprise as the door frame squared around Eddie's tall silhouette. In the misted mirror, his glasses seemed to reflect all light, obscuring half his face in a gleam like the sun glancing across the surface of a windscreen.

His reflection smiled. "You still getting ready?" he asked. "We need to go in ten, if I'm giving you a ride to work."

Abruptly, Dani twisted the tap, cutting off the flow of water. She cleared her throat. "Sorry. No. I'll — I'll drive myself."

"You sure? I don't know if your poor little car will make it."

"No. It'll be fine," she assured him, trying to sound far more confident than she felt. Never mind that the local mechanic had given her a list of incomprehensible ills that plagued her car the last time she had taken it into the shop after it had broken down again. "Thanks, though."

"All right," he said, but still he did not turn to leave. "You know, I was thinking. We should probably sell it."

"Hmm?"

Dani had opened the mirror door to reveal a jumble of bottles and toothpaste and toothbrushes, only some of which were hers. She scouted around for what she was looking for. Even after a few weeks, everything still felt so displaced. She struggled to find the smallest item these days, be it her favorite sauce pan or a bottle of — oh, there it was.

"Your car," Eddie was saying behind her. "Don't you think we should sell it? We don't really need two. Not now that we're living together."

Dani froze with her hands cupped in the water of the sink. She could see her own reflection weaving and waving from the disturbance until her face looked disjointed. Like some sort of Picasso. An eye here. A jaw there. Scattered into separate chambers.

Without answering, she leaned down and splashed her face, rubbing at her cheeks until a foam lathered, eyes squeezed shut.

"Well?" Eddie asked.

She bought herself a moment by rinsing the suds from her face and reaching blindly for a towel that she had perched on a nearby rail for just that very purpose. When she spoke, her voice was muffled through the cloth, "I don't know. I just think —" She lowered the towel and wiped at her neck. "Wouldn't it be inconvenient? You having to drive me around everywhere?"

In the mirror, his outline shrugged. "I don't mind. More time spent with you, right?"

She offered him a weak smile, drying her hands and folding the towel neatly back on its rack. “You’re sweet,” she said. “But really. I mean — What if I need to pick up groceries on the way back from the school? Or what if I want to visit your mother? Or —?”

“All right. All right. You win,” he laughed, softly. He came up behind her, hands settling on her waist, gentle but heavy all the same. “Just think about it. Okay?”

The steam at the edges of the mirror had begun to fade, and Eddie’s features came into sharp relief. Looking at their reflection was like looking at the picture in their living room where they were posed for prom. Eddie’s hands clasped at her waist, and Dani still with that deer in the headlights smile. It was almost perfect. It was almost enough. Being a fresh-faced fiancée. Wearing rumpled pink pajamas. Living together. Watching a life unfold before her as though it belonged to someone else.

She shrank away from him in order to turn around. “I should finish getting ready,” she said.

He let her go but leaned down for a kiss. Instead, his glasses bumped the side of her face. Laughing, she pushed the glasses up his nose as he retreated with a wince.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Her hand was still lingering on the side of his face — scratch of stubble beneath her fingertips — and Eddie pressed a brief kiss to her palm before striding from the bathroom. Dani stood there, clutching her hand back to her chest, listening to his retreating footsteps down the hall. Something curdled in her stomach, though she hadn’t eaten anything yet this morning. She passed it off as hunger instead of guilt.

Eyes squeezing shut, hand clenching into a fist at her sternum, Dani inhaled a deep steadying breath. Then, opening her eyes once more, she turned back towards the mirror and reached for a hairbrush.

—

The coffee in the teacher’s lounge was always dark as sin and tasted of battery acid. Dani pulled on the tap, filling up her styrofoam cup until her hand burned and she had to hold it gingerly from the top with her fingertips. Enough creamer followed so that the coffee resembled milk more than the original brew. She tested it with a sip, crinkled her nose, and added sugar until it was barely palatable. It would still strip paint in a pinch, but it would also keep her going throughout the day.

With a resigned sigh, she carried the coffee over to the round table in the back corner of the lounge, where her piles of notes and textbooks waited. The binders sported multi-colored tongues, every section marked with a tab and her broad loopy handwriting, and there was a satchel of pens and markers in every hue under the sky. Taking a sip of her cup of paint thinner, Dani pulled out a plain black pen. She trailed her thumb down the tabs until she reached the desired section, and flipped open to the correct page. There, she began to record her meticulous notes. She would pause every so often to flip through a textbook and double-check some figure or another that she had convinced herself she had forgotten.

The lounge was mostly empty but for her. It was still an early hour, even for her colleagues. Here, she felt like she could actually work. Back home she would inevitably feel like she had gotten in the way. Not of Eddie. Not usually. Though sometimes he would wander over to the table while she was trying to arrange a lesson plan and distract her with talk of banalities that always made her hand slip, that always made her lose her place on the page. Other times he would complain about how her work sprawled and took over the whole dining room.

Mostly it was the house itself. Still so fresh and new and clean, walls pressing in like a stomach lining. Spreading all her work notes out felt like she was intruding upon the space of the napkins and cutlery. As though all of the items people had bought them for their engagement were more at home there than she was. A house of cardboard boxes. Of clothes. Of china. Stuff. Things. Their things.

Dani’s writing had slowed. She shook her head briskly and straightened in her seat. Another sip of fortifying turpentine, and she was scribbling away again.

“Enjoy the summer holiday?”

Dani glanced up at the sound of that familiar voice. Hannah Grose, seamlessly elegant in a wine-dark skirt suit, stood with her hand on the back of one of the chairs around the little table.

A smile broke across Dani’s face, and she said, “Yeah! And you?” She gestured towards the chair with her pen, adding, “Please.”

“Not much to report on the western front.” Hannah sat, delicately leaning her elbow upon the table so as not to disturb the sprawl of Dani’s notes. “But I hear that’s not the case in your camp. Congratulations are in order.”

Dani could feel her cheeks strain with the effort of keeping her smile in place. “Thanks!”

“Well?” Hannah asked, her eyes agleam with warm curiosity. “Go on then. How did he propose?”

“Which time?” Dani joked half-heartedly. When Hannah gave a little huff of laughter, Dani said, “No, seriously. He’s been asking me to marry him since we were kids.”

“Well, congratulations,” Hannah said. “Do you have a date planned? Or is that still in the works?”

Dani fiddled with the pen between her fingers, repeatedly removing the cap and sticking it back on with a nervous jab. The plastic clacked dully against the unfamiliar band of gold around her finger. “Oh, no. Not yet. We — uh — we’re going to wait a bit. Eddie just started his new job, and I’ve — well. You’re the one who asked me to teach sixth grade this year. And I’m excited, but also I feel so unprepared for a whole classroom of twelve year olds.”

“Don’t be nervous, dear,” Hannah said, and though her tone was soothing her small smile was teasing. “They can smell fear.”

Dani’s laugh was slightly too breathy and too short to be heartfelt. “Oh, I know. It’s just —” She made a flighty gesture with one hand, “— getting a new batch in. It’s always a little nerve wracking. There are so many names to memorize in the first week. And sorting out the dynamics of them all, how they interact, and — well, you know.”

“No, I don’t. Not really, anyway,” Hannah said. “I came up the ranks through an administrative route. Never had any classroom time to speak of.”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” Dani said.

Hannah gave Dani’s notes a nudge with her elbow. “What was it you were just telling me about the trials and tribulations of homeroom?”

This time when Dani laughed, it was far more relaxed. “The kids are the best part. Really. That’s why you do it.”

Hannah gave her a knowing look. “Yes. And that’s why I hired you.”

“Have I thanked you for that, yet?”

“Only once a year for three years.”

“My next gift basket is in the mail tomorrow, then,” Dani joked.

“Hang the basket and bring me a slice from the cafe instead.”

“With coffee?” Dani asked, grinning when Hannah wrinkled her nose at the idea. “You got it, boss.”

“Tea,” said Hannah primly, “is perfectly serviceable. Thank you. It’s eight thirty, by the way.”

Dani’s eyes widened and she checked her watch to find that Hannah was, in fact, correct. “Oh, shoot!” Hastily, she scraped together the loose papers, shuffling them back into their notebook. Tucking it beneath one arm, she snatched up her styrofoam cup and made a dash for the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mrs. Grose.”

“Don’t forget to bring back a receipt for the slice!” Hannah called after her. “You must let me pay you back this time!”

“Put it on my next remuneration review!”

—

The kids were all filing into class, and Dani was hesitating at the blackboard. She held the tip of a piece of chalk against the dark grain. Her hand had frozen on the final downward stroke of the 'M' when she thought — should it still be 'Miss'? 'Ms.'? What were the rules?

The sounds of children jabbering away behind her, chairs scraping, things being thrown, urged her into action, and Dani wrote the name she had always written before turning around.

"All right, let's settle down, please." She waited until twenty-five faces were turned towards her in relative silence — as good as she could hope for given the circumstances — before smiling. Then, she set aside the chalk and picked up a clipboard full of names. "Hi, everyone. I'm Miss Clayton. Welcome to homeroom. Let's go through names. Make sure everyone's here."

It was the same, she told herself even as she meticulously took roll. How different could a bunch of twelve year olds be to her usual ten year olds? She even recognized one or two names from when she had taught a previous class. One of her former students waved at her from the back of a row of desks, and Dani smiled in return.

She skimmed right over the roll call and into the first introductions to the year. It happened so fast, that she hardly even registered a familiar looking name on the list. The boy in question merely raised his hand upon his name being called out, and Dani forged on to the next. With so many new faces to memorize, she did not even pause to mull over the presence of a Michael Taylor in her class. There were too many of them. Always too many. She never could keep track. Always remembering faces, but never names. Maybe if there were fewer of them, she thought. Maybe if they were younger.

They never were.

—

Even after two weeks back in the classroom, the bell ringing never failed to make Dani jump slightly. She nearly dropped her chalk from where she was drawing on the blackboard. Already behind her she could hear the scrape of chairs and the excited babble at the arrival of the weekend.

Setting down the chalk, Dani turned around and began wiping her hands against her skirt. She had to lift her voice to be heard. “All right everyone, don’t forget your permission slips for a trip to the community library! If you don’t bring back a signed form, you won’t be able to go, and you’ll have to stay here! And, Michael? Can you stay behind for a minute, please? I want to talk to you.”

Michael’s head whipped around at the sound of his name. A few other students shot him odd glances and his shoulders crept up around his ears. He shoved his books and notes into his bag — a dark blue canvas with silver stars that looked like they’d been painstakingly drawn on — then slouched at his desk until the others had all left.

Sitting behind her own desk, Dani brushed at the chalk handprints on her skirt — she was always a mess by the end of a school week; chalk everywhere — and gestured for Michael to come closer. He hesitated before pushing himself upright and walking forward until he stood in front of her desk. His brow was furrowed but his head was bowed, looking contrite, as though waiting for some sort of reprimand.

Dani gentled her voice. “Michael, I just wanted to -"

"Mikey."

She blinked, faltering. "I'm sorry?"

"My name," he said very firmly for someone who stood with such a stoop. "It’s Mikey. I don’t like Michael."

With a smile, Dani said, "Of course. Mikey. You’re not in trouble. I promise.” With a light tap of her palms against the surface of the desk, she pulled out a piece of paper from atop one of the stacks and slid it towards him across her desk. “This is your homework from Monday. Do you remember this problem here? Number eleven?”

Shrugging at the weight of his backpack, he nodded.

“Well, I kind of messed up,” she said, lowering her voice and leaning forward as though revealing a secret. “And I copied this problem from the wrong section of the book. The back section of the book, I mean. Most of the others didn’t even try to answer it, and those that did got it wrong. Except —” Dani tapped a finger against the edge of the page, “— for you.”

Mikey did not say anything. His gaze remained dropped, as though he were studying his shoes.

“Do you know what this ‘x’ is?” Dani asked, pointing to the math problem in question.

Mikey shook his head. “No. I thought it was like a question mark?”

“Yeah.” Dani smiled. “Yeah, that’s right.”

He glanced up at her, saw her watching him, and then hastily lowered his eyes again, shuffling his feet.

Leaning her weight on her forearms, Dani said, “I know you’re a transfer student this year, and you came from somewhere out of state. Did your other schools teach you algebra by any chance?”

Again, he shook his head.

“Okay.” She ducked her head down in an attempt to look into his eyes. “I told you: you’re not in trouble. I just wanted to know — do you like math? Because it seems to me you’re really good at it.”

“I guess,” he mumbled. His hand tightened around the strap of his backpack. “Can I go now?”

Dani toyed with the edge of the page of homework. Then with a sigh she leaned back in her seat. “Yeah, you can go. Have a good weekend.”

He murmured some pleasantry in response, but in the next moment he was gone from the room so fast she thought she must have imagined it. For a moment, Dani frowned after him. She pulled his homework towards herself, studying the page. Mikey’s handwriting was cramped and messy, but there was no mistaking the fact that he had written every answer only once. There were no eraser marks to be seen. He even showed the steps he took to reach his answers.

Her thumb traced over his name at the top right hand corner. Then, with a little shake of her head, she set the page back atop the stack of other papers and began to clean up.

Even after the kids had mostly left, there were always a few stragglers left behind. Some trotted through the halls in packs on their way to whatever extracurricular activities their parents had signed them up for. Dani kept the door to her classroom open, and the squeak of their shoes echoed down the corridor along with the sound of their fading voices. Tilting her wrist to check the time, she pulled out the latest round of homework assignments that had been handed back to her earlier that day. The set she hadn’t had a chance to mark yet.

Best to just get it done with now. Her car was clinging to the last vestiges of life and had landed itself back in the workshop earlier that week. She would be here a while until Eddie got off work.

She grabbed a red pen and pulled the first page towards her. The pen flicked officiously as she scanned through the questions, barely pausing until she circled the final grade at the top and set the page aside in favor of the next. And so on. And so forth. It was almost relaxing. As relaxing as a known constant could be. She could always rely upon the dependability of homework that needed grading. Just like she could rely upon the dependability of death and taxes.

She glanced up only rarely from her work whenever a flurry of movement flitted across the corners of her vision. A bird darting from a tree branch here. A janitor sweeping the floors there. Dani paused to push her seat back from the desk and make small talk, asking after the janitor's wife and kids until he shuffled along with a wave, pushing his long-handled broom, which looked more like a breed of shaggy dog than a cleaning implement. She had almost finished grading the stack of papers, when she glanced out the window towards the street. She looked back down at the papers, then did a double take.

That was a student sitting on the curb. She recognized that blue backpack with silver stars. Dani checked the time again. Nearly four in the afternoon now. With a hum and a frown, she returned to grading, but her gaze would wander after each finished page back towards the window.

Finally, she capped the pen and set it down atop the finished stack of papers. She would need to enter those grades into the system later, but that could wait. For now, Dani swept everything into her bag before slinging it over one shoulder. Her keys jangled from their lanyard as she locked up and made her way outside.

Mikey was still crouched on the sidewalk when she approached. Her shoes clacked dully against the pavement, and he turned to look over his shoulder at who was approaching him.

Dani smiled brightly. "Hi!" she said. "You’re still here?"

Mikey nodded, but gave no verbal reply. Some sort of magazine was hanging loosely from his fingers, half open and tucked between his legs as though he had been caught red-handed.

Setting her bag down on the ground, she sat beside him and craned her neck to get a look at the cover he was clearly trying to hide. "Wonder Woman, huh?"

His cheeks flushed in embarrassment, and he refused to look anywhere near her direction.

"You know," Dani said. "I used to wait up at night to catch all the episodes of the show as they were airing. The Lynda Carter ones? You ever watch it?"

His eyes were wide when he finally turned to look at her. He nodded. "Yeah. I love that show."

"I recorded them all," Dani confided in a whisper, as though the two of them were in on a secret. "Still have them on tape at home, though I haven't watched them in forever."

"My sister gets annoyed when I rewatch stuff too often," Mikey said. He had straightened his legs, and now the comic book was sprawled across his bony knees to reveal a few inked pages.

She nodded towards the thin paper booklet. "I never read the comics, though. Are they any fun?"

It was like opening flood gates. Suddenly, she found herself being regaled about the entire publication history of Wonder Woman, while Mikey gestured wildly with the comic so that the loose pages rustled with every motion of his hands. His face came alight when he spoke. Dani listened with amusement. She perched an elbow on her knees and propped her chin on her hand, nodding along, asking appropriate questions. Once she asked what was obviously a dumb question, for he made a face and explained her error in great detail.

The early autumnal sun was slanting through the trees by the time a boxy silver sedan rolled up to the other side of the street. Dani could see a familiar mop of dark hair and the gleam of glasses through the windows. The car puttered to a halt, engine idling, and Eddie pressed down on the steering wheel so that the horn blared briefly.

Dani waved in his direction and said to Mikey, “That’s my ride. Are you going to be okay out here?” She glanced down the street for any approaching cars. “Someone’s coming to pick you up, right?”

In answer, he held up the issue of Wonder Woman. “It’s okay, Miss Clayton. My sister will be here soon.”

“Okay, then,” said Dani. Slapping her hands on her thighs, she pushed herself to her feet, bag hanging from one shoulder. She walked towards the car with a smile and a wave back at Mikey. “I’ll see you next week!”

He did not answer. He was already nose-deep in his comic book again. Shaking her head with a small chuckle, Dani continued towards where Eddie was waiting for her, tapping at the dashboard. It wasn’t until her hand was on the chromed door handle that she finally registered what Mikey had said.

A sister. He had a sister. At first she’d thought — well, a sister who got annoyed with a brother who hogged the television set would surely be a younger sister. But a sister who drove to pick him up from school was definitely not a younger sister.

“Danielle, are you all right? You look a little pale.”

The sound of Eddie’s voice made her jerk half out of her skin. She hadn’t even realized he had rolled down the window.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice catching in her throat. “Yeah. Can you just - Can you wait a second? I’ll be —I’ll be just a second.”

Dani shoved her bag through the open window into her seat, then whirled around and marched back across the street. Her hands were clenched into fists at her side. She could feel the bite of her short nails into her palms. Something acidic boiled in her stomach, twisting it into knots, until she stood over Mikey, struggling to find her voice.

“You said you had a sister?” she asked. “An older sister? And — And your last name is Taylor?”

Looking puzzled, Mikey shrugged. “Yeah?”

This was impossible. There was no way. For a long moment, Dani stared at him, his brown hair, his brown eyes, his narrow shoulders, the almost familiar shape of his nose and face.

Dani cleared her throat and tried to sound nonchalant. “And what — uh — what’s her name?”

With a quizzical frown up at her, Mikey turned a page of his comic book to where Wonder Woman was punching stars from one of her foes. “My sister?” he asked, as if it were the most bizarre question in the world. “Jamie. Her name’s Jamie.”

“Right,” Dani breathed, feeling like she’d just received a blow to the space beneath her ribcage. “Right. Of course. Sorry. I’ll just — Bye.”

Without another word, she turned on her heel and strode back towards the waiting car. She willed her breathing to even out, even as she felt something coil around her sternum and tighten with every step. Yanking open the door, Dani slipped into the car. She pushed her bag down to her feet and pulled the door shut behind her.

“Everything good?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah,” Dani lied, her voice sounding oddly high even to her own ears. It was difficult to swallow; her throat felt too tight. A rush of blood flooded through her ears in a deafening crash. She stared fixedly at the reflection of her own clenched hands in the slanted windshield, willing them to relax even as her knuckles went whiter. “Fine. Everything’s fine.”

And Eddie didn’t question it at all. He merely shrugged, put the car into gear, and drove away.

—

It stayed with her afterwards. Like a bruise upon her skin, blue and purple, tender to the touch. That cloying sense of the air too thick. Molasses on a hot summer day, the dark shadow that clung to her heels in sunlight, haunting her every step. She couldn’t breathe with it, couldn’t escape it.

Jamie. Jamie, here. Jamie, home.

Somehow Eddie didn’t notice. It completely passed him by, the way her eyes darted around as they stopped to pick up groceries, her clenched fists held tightly to her sides, consumed with the uneasy notion that she might turn around the corner and Jamie would appear, as if summoned by the gravity of Dani’s pounding heart.

It should’ve been easy — like most things eventually — locking it away. Erasing it. She had managed now for years, days, months. Except now the very thought of Jamie being so near again, so tangible again, made her somehow indelible. As if she’d always been there. Waiting. As if she’d never gone. It felt altogether at once like being peeled and stripped away, down to an exposed nerve.

Dani wished she could say she slept easy that night. Instead, after spending much of the witching hour staring at the ceiling, she finally succumbed to the sound of Eddie’s soft snores, his arm splayed across her waist, only to wake up feeling as if she'd been cracked open and hollowed out. Somehow, in between the moments of stumbling out of bed and driving up to the blue bungalow across town with Eddie in the small rental truck behind her, Dani managed to go through the motions of call and response. Her limbs moving, her mouth speaking all of their own accord, and she could only watch it happening. She pulled on the turn signal. The click of the light like an errant drip of a tap. It was only when she was cutting the engine to stare up at the house that was once hers, that something tightened in her chest, shunting her back to earth.

Carson met them by the front steps where he sat in his studded leather jacket that he wore regardless of the weather, two takeout cups in hand.

“Took you long enough,” he grumbled, standing and offering one of the cups to Eddie who reached him first. “Thought I was gonna have to drink these myself before they got cold.”

Eddie huffed a laugh, taking the cup. “Yeah, we wouldn’t want that,” he drawled before helping himself inside the house without a backwards glance, taking a long sip from his cup.

Carson stared after him for a moment before turning to Dani with a smirk, and said, “Someone’s in a mood.”

Managing a chuckle, Dani folded her arms around herself. “Yeah, he uh, he’s just eager to get it done, you know? Realtor wants the place empty by three today.”

“Well, in that case,” he said, holding out the last cup, his smirk softening to something kinder.

“Oh, thank you,” she said, taking it. The brush of his fingers against hers was warm and welcome. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Sure, I did,” he responded with a shrug, and nudged her to take a drink, “Go on.”

At the first sip of what Dani had thought was coffee was instead a sweet and rich hot chocolate. Her eyes went wide.

Carson laughed at the expression on her face. “Thought you could use a little something sweet today.”

She smiled at him over the plastic top and took another longer sip. “Thank you,” she said, “For coming. You didn’t need to, but —”

“— You needed some extra muscle, which I’ve plenty of.” His grin seemed rueful. There lingered in Carson more of the boyish youth that Dani had seen in Eddie so many years ago. He wasn’t as gangly or as broad-shouldered as his older brothers, but he was always, without fail, a comforting presence in an otherwise rowdy O’Mara household.

“And yet none of your other brothers showed up, I see,” Dani said.

“Yeah, well,” Carson shrugged against his leather jacket, hands stuck into the pockets. “Guess, I’m just the only responsible one.”

“I knew there was a reason why I liked you best.”

He winked and lowered his voice. “Don’t let Eddie hear you say that.”

With a snort, Dani reached out and ruffled his perfectly coiffed hair so that it more resembled Eddie’s unruly curls. He ducked his head and swatted her away with a whine of complaint. She laughed when he stepped away to carefully fix his hair in the reflection of her car window.

“You leave your pomade at home again?” Dani teased. “Thought you never left without it.”

She could just make out his face in the reflection, nose scrunching up as he raked his fingers through his dark hair until it was suitably tamed. The door of the house one over opened, and a young man strode out, wearing a bathrobe and clutching a mug of coffee. Immediately Carson straightened, as though he’d been tapped with the wrong end of a cattle prod.

Dani waved. “Hi, Jason!”

Her neighbor lifted a desultory hand while he fumbled with his letterbox. “Last day?” he asked, voice raspy with sleep.

“Taking the last of it now,” she said.

Jason shut the letterbox and scooped up the newspaper that had been tossed onto his lawn earlier that morning. “Let me know if you need an extra hand.”

“I should be all right. That’s what Carson’s for.” She gestured with her hot chocolate towards Carson, who had his hands jammed back into his pockets and was now leaning against her car with an odd expression on his face.

Jason glanced over and nodded, no more than a jerk of his chin up, before walking back into his house with the newspaper tucked under one arm. The muscles in Carson’s jaw were clenched, standing out like the ropes of a sailing ship.

After the door to Jason’s house had swung shut, Dani asked, “I thought you two were friends?”

Carson grunted a wordless note. “We had a falling out a few months ago. Anyway —” He turned on his heel, grin back in place, and started making his way towards her house. “Show me the heavy stuff. Come on!”

By the time they first made their way inside, Eddie was already hauling out boxes filled with her things. The tops and sides of each cardboard box had been painstakingly labelled in Dani’s hand, the letters neat and blocky. Carson slipped by Eddie with an exaggerated pose as if squeezing through a tight space as they passed one another in the door. Eddie paused, arms laden, and turned his face to Dani while she climbed the steps leading up to the entryway. The extra step allowed her to press a chaste kiss to his cheek and, mollified, he continued on his way towards the truck. Once inside, she found that Carson was already heaving an armchair up with his hands. She moved out of the way so he could trot after his older brother, leaving her momentarily alone.

The house was bare. Most of her things had already been carted away the week before. The transition into their new shared home had been gradual, just like everything else in their relationship. Eddie settling in first and coaxing Dani along as though she were a particularly nervous show dog that had slipped the collar. Looking around now, hands on her hips, Dani felt like an intruder. Like she was an archaeologist who had wandered into someone else's burial site with a rusty torch and hammer.

It almost looked bigger now that it was so empty. Her footsteps echoed too loud on the wooden floors, the sound traveling further and longer. The bare walls once peppered with paintings and photos now like a skeleton expanding its ribs, waiting to expel her in one long sunken breath. Her thumb gradually drifted to her mouth as she took it all in, biting hard at her nail and skin, fixedly eyeing the spot where once a small reading nook used to be.

The sound of footsteps behind her was harsh and loud to her ears. “Hey, what did I tell you about that?” Eddie said from beside her suddenly, his hand gently pulling Dani’s away from her mouth.

She swallowed heavily and pulled her hand carefully back to hold into a fist by her side, and said, “Yeah, I know. Sorry. I just —”

“I don’t like you hurting yourself,” he said, frowning. She couldn’t help but let her shoulders slump at the concern in his eyes, and only managed to give him a tenuous smile and a nod. “Look, we’re almost done. Soon we’ll be out of here in no time and we can finally just focus on our home. Just let me and Carson do all the hard work.”

“I can help,” Dani said. “I want to help.”

He sighed. “Danielle -”

“I have my inhaler in the car. I won’t keel over and die,” Dani said.

“Hey, Ed, buddy, what happened to that deadline, huh?” Carson said, leaning heavily on the wall and pointing behind him to the kitchen, “You gonna help me with this thing or not?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, and briefly placed a hand on her shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen with muttered grumbling. Dani grinned after him before catching Carson’s eyes, chuckling and shaking her head as he winked at her before following Eddie.

“Gotta give her a minute to breathe, Ed.” Carson’s voice was soft, but still Dani heard it all the same and wrapped her arms tight around herself.

Clearing her throat, she strode off in the direction of her old bedroom. The bed had been taken away and put in their new spare bedroom for guests who might come to visit. The carpet still bore indentations from where the posts had once sat. Eddie had already been in here; the boxes were gone. Dani glanced around for any last remaining items that might have been forgotten. The closet door was slightly awry, and with a frown she pulled it fully open. There was a single wire coat hanger hooked on the bar that stretched across the closet. Her hand reached out to take it, when she froze.

There, tucked away into the corner beneath one of the built in shelves, was a small wooden box. She could hardly remember the last time she had seen it, let alone opened it. A layer of dust covered the top. Kneeling down, Dani pulled the box out and into her lap. She blew the dust off and had to wipe a bit more with the edge of her sleeve. It was made of plain wood with a bronze latch fastening the lid shut. Her thumb teased the corner of the latch. She worried her lower lip between her teeth before steeling herself and lifting the lid open on squeaky hinges.

Nestled inside were a series of photographs, faded with age. Something clenched in her chest as she touched the first one with trembling fingers.

She and Jamie looked so young, and they were. Barely fifteen. Jamie's arm flung around her shoulder, arm outstretched to snap the photo while she pressed a kiss to Dani's cheek even as Dani laughed and elbowed her ribs. Swallowing down the urge to be sick, she slipped the photo aside to see the next. Jamie was younger still. Her arms were outstretched as she balanced her weight on the narrow steel bar of the abandoned train tracks beyond the fields that surrounded the town. Dani could remember the day she took this with crystal clarity. The days of summer in those years had been longer somehow, stretching on into warm endless nights.

She was a furtive grave robber, flicking through picture after picture, exhuming a past that she hardly recognized herself in now. And pictures weren’t all that were stored here. There was a band shirt that had been half eaten by moths over years of neglect. An old Zippo lighter with scratched edges along the chrome plating. A necklace that was actually just a worn old half dollar coin pierced through and hung from a cheap chain. A cassette tape labelled Jamie’s Mixtape (1978) in a messy slanted scrawl, long missing its protective case. And finally, an old battered copy of Valley of the Dolls, where if she were to flick it open, she would find a pressed blue morning glory hidden among the pages.

She gently ran her hand over them, still trembling as if the living memories within the treasure trove thrummed under her skin with its own heartbeat.

In the distance, she could hear footsteps and the back and forth between Carson and Eddie in the living room as they manoeuvred a couch through the front door. When the footsteps drew closer, approaching down the hall, Dani hurriedly stuffed everything back into the box and shut the lid.

Carson leaned in the doorway. At some point he had shed his leather jacket, so that now he only wore a white undershirt that was two sizes too small, tucked into his jeans. “You good here? We’ve loaded the last of it into the truck.”

“Yeah,” Dani said. She pushed herself upright, clutching the box to her chest as though it were an heirloom. “Yeah, that's everything.”

His eyebrows rose and he nodded towards the box. “What do you got there?”

Dani’s grip tightened. She could feel the grooves of the box pressing into her skin. “Nothing important.”

—

Dani went about her routine on edge. At the supermarket, gripping the shopping cart between her hands and turning down the different aisles. At the gas station, stepping out of her beat up old car to work the pump. At the school, peering out the window at all the parents dropping off their kids in the parking lot. At the local cafe nearest the elementary school, picking up a newspaper and a slice for Hannah. Hoping for a glimpse of Jamie and dreading any encounter with her all at once.

Except Jamie never appeared. And Mikey sat at the back of the class, doodling in his notebook, not paying attention but knowing all the answers regardless whenever Dani called on him to participate. She could always see him after school sitting on the curbside and reading a new comic issue, or thumbing through a book from the paltry school library or scratching at his homework with a pencil. Not once did Dani loiter long enough to see him get picked up, and she felt a stab of irritation that he should be left alone for so long. But it wasn’t her business, and he got along well enough with the other kids during recess.

Dani was still stewing silently over the whole affair at dinner with her future in-laws. She sat at the dining table, chewing at the skin of her thumb, with Carson at one elbow and Eddie at the next. Mike, Judy’s soft-spoken stooping husband, sat at the head of the table, while Judy herself set the last of the platters down and invited everyone to tuck in.

“How’re the kids this year?” Judy asked as she spooned peas onto her plate.

Dani made a noise in the back of her throat, before lowering her hand into her lap. “Yeah, they’re great! I — uh — I actually have a transfer student.”

Judy made a sound to indicate that she was still listening even while she passed a platter across the table to Eddie.

“He’s really smart,” Dani continued. “I don’t really know what to do with him. He — well, he always looks a bit bored, to be honest.”

“Don’t they have some sort of advanced program for kids like that?” Mike asked. He had already tucked into the food even though his plate was only half full.

“I’d need to talk to the parent or guardian first,” Dani said, her stomach flipping at the thought. The peas had made their way around the table to her now, and she slowly scraped the last of them onto an available corner of her plate. Swallowing heavily, Dani concentrated hard on the steady movements of her hands, and said, “Judy, I don’t suppose you’ve heard of anyone new coming to town?”

Judy’s mouth was full. She frowned thoughtfully as she chewed, and swallowed before answering. “No, I haven’t, now that you mention it. I’ll have to ask around the ladies at the book club if they’ve seen anyone.”

Any hope Dani might have nursed of learning something new about Jamie’s presence in town flickered out like a snuffed candle. “Thanks,” she said, already feeling the conversation wander towards other topics. “Can you pass the salt, Carson?”

—

Sitting here in her Sunday best with Eddie’s warm hand in hers and a book of hymns in the other, Dani was sandwiched in the pew between her fiancé and her mother. Karen smelled sharply of cheap mall perfume, her dress pressing in tight on her ribs. The priest’s voice echoed from his place declaming near the altar, but Dani wasn’t listening. She was too preoccupied with the way her heart pounded in her chest, the clench of her stomach and the restless nerves that someone might have seen her.

She hadn’t planned on going to the movies yesterday, not at first. Not until she had seen the ad in Saturday’s morning paper, an art house theater two towns over advertising a one-time showing of Desert Hearts. It had caused such a stir in the community a few years ago that any curiosity Dani had felt toward it had died and shriveled up inside of her. Yet her Saturday afternoon had been free, and Eddie had been mercifully busy after helping her move the last of her things.

And now Dani sat in the same church she’d been going to her entire life, feeling like a marionette whose mouth was puppetted by invisible strings as she joined the others in song. The priest leading them through a hymn wasn’t the same man who baptized Dani as an infant. The bench she was sitting on wasn’t the same she sat in week after week. The woman on her right was virtually nonexistent. The man’s hand she was holding loosely in her left wasn’t the same man who she grew up with, he wasn’t the boy who asked her again and again to marry him.

This Dani, this new Dani, lied to her fiancé and drove an hour out of town the day before with a whispered prayer on her tongue for her car to just hold on for once, for just one more day to see a film that left her blushing scarlet and her stomach dropping not uncomfortably, sitting alone in the dark with a carton of untouched popcorn. This Dani would return to her car, and her first thought would turn to whether this would be the kind of movie Jamie would have picked as her choice of their weekly film showing — knowing immediately that the answer would be 'yes.’ And just as abruptly as the thought appeared, she promptly squashed the idea of even contemplating such a question.

Dani’s voice faltered, wavering over the words as a flash of guilt washed over her when the heat returned to her skin. She looked up at the cross, hanging on the back wall over the priest’s head, and glanced furtively at Eddie to see where he was in the verse, praying no one had seen her stumble. When service finally ended, and the ritualistic gossip on the front steps had been entertained, she allowed herself to be led outside. Eddie’s hand was warm and steady, completely enveloping her own, pulling her to the warm air where it finally felt like she was able to breathe again.

She felt a heady rush of relief when her mom begged off brunch, claiming to suffer from a headache as she walked to her car with a half-hearted wave. Relieved two-fold when Eddie needed to run off to the office for preliminary work for Monday, kissing her on the cheek in a goodbye that she barely registered before rushing off to his car. Until she was only left with Judy.

“So,” Judy asked, and for a brief terrifying moment Dani thought she might know, she might have finally seen her. In the end though all Judy said was: “How about that lunch?”

Judy linked their arms, pulling her in close until all Dani could do was smile and say, “Lead the way.”

The bistro Judy directed them to was relatively new, Dani had passed it multiple times over the last couple weeks but had never actually gone in, always driving by with casual curiosity and a bemused but charmed smile at the name: A Batter Place.

“You’re gonna love it,” Judy said, guiding Dani in with an arm linked in her own, “Their macaroons are to die for.”

Gamely, Dani smiled along to Judy’s enthusiasm as Judy pointed to various fixtures of the restaurant, steadily ignoring the strain building in the back of her neck. It wouldn’t be fair to say that Judy made her nervous. There were too many good intentions behind her warm eyes and her warm hugs, always with her hands full of containers of hearty food, always holding on a little longer than Dani expected, like she was afraid Dani would drift away. Judy, she knew, at least cared.

Perhaps that was why, after settling in their seats and ordering their lunch, Dani hid her hands under the table, fingers trembling as they picked at the skin of her thumb.

“So, how have you been, honey?” Judy asked over her cup of coffee, smiling that kind, good-intentioned smile. “I feel like I’ve barely seen you since school started up again.”

A small pressure valve released in Dani’s chest, and she finally allowed herself a real smile. “I’ve been keeping busy, and well — you know how it is with a new school year. This year especially is different.”

“Because of the higher grade?”

“Right. And I just — I want things to be perfect, you know?” Dani said, and chuckled ruefully, “Though twenty-five twelve year olds will certainly be a challenge.”

This she could manage. This she could at least be grateful for, the way Judy allowed the conversation to steer towards something that filled Dani with a sense of purpose, smiling proudly at her over the din of conversation around them with no mention of Eddie or long overdue wedding planning.

Judy took a pointed sip of her coffee. “Well, I know you like the challenge, but you can’t forget to take care of yourself,” she said, her lips pulling into a familiar smile. One to be used when nearing a cornered animal. Dani’s stomach sank, when Judy continued, “Now, I know you and Eddie need time to get used to living together, doing all the things couples have to learn to do alone but, you don’t have to steer clear of the house forever. I know we all recently just had dinner together but —”

Dani glanced away.

“— You could come over at any time. Like yesterday! What were you up to yesterday? I would have made lasagna for you.”

“Oh, uh —” Dani gave a nervous breathy chuckle, hoping to hide the grimace at the memory of the two women who had stared brazenly at her when she had exited the art house theater yesterday, Dani in her too bright blouse and high jeans, looking frazzled and out of place. She took a long sip of her coffee, hoping to hide the same feeling under her skin now. “You know. Busy.”

Judy waved her explanation away with that same smile. “Oh, well, never mind that. It doesn’t matter now. There’s always next weekend,” she said, and her hand reached over to clasp Dani’s before she could hide it again. “I’m just hoping I get more time to spend with my favorite future daughter-in-law before things get too crazy. Wedding planning and teaching a class of twenty-five kids is one thing, but thinking about raising a baby is another.”

A moment passed before Dani could process the words. A baby. Of course.

“Oh,” was all Dani managed to say, a polite smile frozen on her face as Judy’s grip on her hand tightened in a way that anyone else would have found comforting. The hand that Dani so wanted to pull away, to press against her chest. A pressure building inside her ribs, pulling her skin taught and straining at the edges. A ringing in her ears that sounded more and more like the whistle of a tea kettle or the whine of an over-revved engine.

She was only saved by the grace of their food arriving, the pressure abating to something manageable as Judy freed Dani’s hand to make room for their plates. It gave Dani the opportunity to down half of her coffee, hot enough to scald, and to clench a fist under the table, her nails pressing hard into the soft skin of her hand.

At the first bite of food, Judy hummed and sank back into her seat. “Now that is delicious,” she said, gesturing with her fork. “Go on, take a bite.”

Dani took advantage of the moment, letting the previous topic of conversation pass over them untouched as she pulled her own forkful of food in her mouth. She blinked in surprise.

“Wow,” she said after swallowing, sharing an incredulous chuckle with Judy. “That is really good.”

“I’m telling you, this new chef knows what he’s doing,” Judy said with a grin, as if she had known exactly how Dani would have reacted.

It should have been comforting, being so well understood. And for the most part it was. Afterall, Dani had spent much of her youth at Judy’s table, being fed day in and day out as if she were Judy’s own. Always having a safe haven. A home away from home, where she would be welcome. No questions asked. It should have been an absolute solace. Yet somehow, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being made of glass. As if she were standing there and Judy was looking right through her at someone else that didn’t exist.

The bell attached to the door rang as it swung open, and the sound drew her back to the table, almost startling her. She swallowed down an unexpected thickness in her throat, ignoring that steady pressure in her ribs, and shared another unassuming smile with Judy, taking a second bite.

“We should come here again,” Dani said, hoping to alleviate some of the pressure that was building in her lungs.

“Then it’s a date. Next Sunday.” Judy smiled wide.

It was so easy, making Judy happy, making her smile wide and bright like she’d won the lottery. It was something Dani was good at, pleasing others. The very thought of speaking up and potentially ruining the moment was enough to cause a vein of dread to thread its way through her. Yet something in that moment caused Judy’s smile to flicker, the sound of the bell ringing again as the front door swung open with a squeak of unoiled hinges. Judy’s eyes glanced over somewhere behind Dani’s shoulder and they slowly widened to an expression Dani had only seen once before — when Eddie announced their engagement during family dinner.

“Jamie Taylor?”

Dani tensed and turned around, and sure enough, there she was. Jamie Taylor herself. Dark jeans, big work boots, and a brown jacket, strolling into the bistro like she’d never left town. Like the air from Dani’s lungs hadn’t been sucked out by a gut punch releasing every single pressure valve at the very sight of her.

“Oi, Sharma! Whatever happened to you saying you could fix those hinges without my help?” Jamie’s voice rang clear across the room.

“Danielle, honey, you didn’t tell me that Jamie was back,” Judy said in a rush of breath, already out of her seat and walking toward Jamie like a woman on a mission, as if there wasn’t a hurricane forming within Dani’s chest. As if a swell of feeling wasn’t rushing through her as she sat unmoving with wide eyes attached to the lines of Jamie’s back, to the curl of her hair, unchanged, unkempt, and yet completely different.

Whatever Dani had expected to feel upon hearing that voice again, it wasn’t to feel all of it at once. She didn’t know which feeling to land on, watching Jamie turn at the sound of Judy’s voice, catching sight of the familiar lines of Jamie’s face as they twisted in surprise and fell into a charming smile as Jamie conceded to a tight hug from Judy; the fluttering of happiness, the rush of anxiety, the desperate desire to flee, the shock that belied the anger and muted resentment.

In the end, Dani just sat there, unable to move and unable to look away.

The pair pulled out of the hug, with Judy briefly and affectionately framing Jamie’s face with her hands like she used to. And Jamie rolled her eyes good naturedly with a crooked smile, burying her hands in her pockets. It was like no time at all had passed. They were teenagers again, and Judy was sending them off back home from dinner with warm hugs and piling their hands with leftovers in tupperware.

When Judy gestured over towards their table towards Dani, it was all she could do to not run and excuse herself to the washroom, to not slip out the back door. But it was too late, tension coiling in her body as Jamie’s head turned towards Dani and their eyes finally met.

It was suddenly incredibly hard to breathe. Dani blinked, and the look on Jamie’s face at the sight of her — startled, mouth agape — was gone, and all that was left was something entirely unfamiliar. A polite placid smile as Judy talked her ear off, answering Judy’s questions and gesturing across the counter towards a handsome man with a thick moustache wearing an apron. Even so, Jamie only had eyes for Dani, her gaze occasionally roving back, her expression unreadable.

Before Dani could do more than stare, Judy was guiding Jamie back to their table, a hand on her back. Dani’s stomach twisted itself into a knot at their approach. Her heart began crashing against her ribs until it was all she could hear. Jamie was looking at her with that crooked grin, and Dani didn’t know what else to do but stand from her seat, faintly dazed, a hand brushing against invisible lint and wrinkles along her sky blue dress.

“Look who I found!” Judy said as they pulled up to the table, as if Dani hadn't been on the verge of a nervous breakdown in the last minute. The last decade, if she were being honest with herself.

All Dani could do was give a trembling smile. “Jamie,” she said, almost breathless, the name feeling foreign on her tongue. “Hi.”

Jamie’s grin shifted into something like a smirk, gaze drifting over Dani so fast that she felt it on her skin like a flash fire. “Danielle,” she said, and Dani’s smile faltered. “Been a minute.”

“It has,” Dani said in between barely gritted teeth, the feeling in her stomach souring.

“I was just telling Jamie how this is the first time I’ve brought you here,” Judy interrupted, oblivious as ever. Jamie’s smirk dropped back into something softer, an eyebrow quirked and her head tilting curiously. “How today of all days, that we all walk in the same restaurant together. It must be kismet.”

“Don’t know about that, Mrs. O’Mara. Was never much one for kismet,” Jamie said with a shrug, looking so much like she’s sixteen again that a dull pressure returned to Dani’s chest. “World’s too chaotic for that.”

“And yet here you are.” Judy shuffled back into her seat and gestured to Jamie. “Come, come sit. Just for a while until your takeout is ready.”

It was only by the grace of luck and Judy’s affection for Jamie, that she gestured toward the chair next to her instead of Dani. Jamie didn’t argue, taking the seat, and Dani following after, almost a second delayed from the shock of it all. She could feel Jamie’s eyes on her as she settled in her chair, but Dani kept her attention low and focused on her food, feeling distinctly like she was in a dream.

“Danielle, truly, I can’t believe you neglected to tell me Jamie was back,” Judy admonished with a teasing grin.

She clenched her teeth. Dani had a hard time believing it herself. “Must’ve slipped my mind," she said.

“How long have you been back again, honey?”

“About two months now,” Jamie said. At the admission, Dani finally pulled her eyes away from the table to look up at Jamie, lounging back in her seat like she had all the time in the world, noticeably avoiding Dani’s gaze.

Two months. Two months, and not even a phone call. Not even a letter. Dani took another heady swallow of her now lukewarm coffee in an effort to ground herself. Some things just never changed, she guessed.

“We were so worried when you left, after — after everything, especially. We all were. I thought about you for so long afterwards. Kept you in my prayers,” Judy said, and while the words were sobering with the memories of those days, Jamie’s expression remained unchanged, detached and ambiguous, the corner of her mouth quirked.

“Then I guess I have you to thank,” Jamie said, “All that praying must’ve done something good. Mikey and I have been getting on quite nicely, if I do say so myself.”

Judy gasped, a hand clutching at her chest. “Oh, Mikey! That sweet boy, how is he? Oh, I can’t believe it’s been so long. He must be — what? Eleven now?”

“Twelve actually,” Jamie said, then chuckled. It was something new. The way her eyes turned just a bit brighter, her smile more gentle, as she reached into her pocket to dig out a beat up leather wallet, flipping it open towards Judy. Judy gasped again, holding onto the wallet with a laugh. “Twelve years old and already reaching my chin," Jamie continued. "The little gremlin’s gonna have me beat by next year at this rate, I swear.”

“He’s wonderful,” Judy said, her eyes alight with emotion, “Gosh, he looks just like you. Except for the eyes, those sweet brown eyes. He’s definitely going to be a heartbreaker.”

“Not on my bloody watch,” Jamie grumbled.

“Have you seen him yet, Danielle?” Judy held out the wallet to Dani, who had to refrain from recoiling back, as if Judy was holding out a live snake.

“I have,” Dani admitted quietly, “He’s one of my students, actually.”

“Oh, so that’s what all those questions were about the other day,” Judy said, and tapped Jamie playfully on her arm resting on the table with her wallet. “What did I tell you? Kismet.”

Jamie flipped the wallet shut and returned it to her pocket. “Mikey did mention the name once or twice. Miss Clayton this, Miss Clayton that, and I thought: what are the chances?”

Dani swallowed down a scoff and the bitterness brewing in the back of her throat. Her left hand ached from clutching it so tight in her lap, knuckles white, crescent-shaped grooves in her palm. She stretched her hand out and ran it through her hair, her fingers trembling as they smoothed down the gentle waves and curls she put in that morning.

“Ah, so he’s done it then,” Jamie said, apropos of nothing. She leaned forward on the table, staring so abruptly and intently that Dani shifted away in her own seat slightly, hoping she hadn’t noticed.

It was the first time Jamie had fully addressed her since that singular hello. Dani frowned, that ever present knot in her stomach twisting tighter. “Sorry?”

“That nice big shiny rock on your hand.” Jamie gestured down to the aforementioned rock, and sure enough, there was her engagement ring, shining bright against the afternoon light pouring through the window. “Must’ve cost a damn fortune.”

Dani had thought the same, when Eddie had dropped to his knee, proffering up the box where the ring lay, his face flickering through a wide array of emotions — adoration, anxiety, hope. At the time all Dani could think, staring down at the large square cut diamond, was that it looked heavy.

“But isn’t it gorgeous?” Judy gushed, reaching out to grasp Dani’s hand to pull it closer for Jamie to see. Dani breathed out an awkward laugh at the sudden motion but let herself be dragged along. “I went to help him pick it out, and — gosh, well, we all know how many times he’s asked over the years. Our Danielle always liked to keep him on his toes. I just about died at the news when they officially announced the engagement a few months later.”

Jamie whistled low. “I can imagine,” she drawled.

Judy continued to ramble about the announcement. She released the hand that Dani tried to surreptitiously and swiftly return under the table, hoping to hide the desire to shrink under the table as well. Meanwhile Jamie seemed to be only half-listening, watching Dani with a tilted head and a sharp glance that left Dani feeling like a strip of overexposed film. Her eyes strayed to Jamie's old scar against her will, landing on the long stretch of a pale line that started from her lower lip and descended down towards her chin. It was usually hard to see, but today it was easy to find in the light of the room.

Dani swallowed thickly and glanced away.

“So, how’d he do it?”

“Mmm?” Dani looked back up, a little dazed.

Jamie’s head tilted pointedly towards her. “Ed,” she said. “How’d he go about it this time? To be honest with you, I had my bets placed on senior prom night, like he’d always planned. Flowers in the park after the dance, and all that rubbish.”

“He told you that?” Dani frowned.

“Wouldn’t shut up about it.”

“Oh.” Dani fiddled with the ring, glancing down at it. “No, it was um — “ She smiled, a frail subdued thing, only to fold her right hand over it, covering the diamond so that it dug into her palm, “ — it was during a dinner date.”

Jamie lifted an eyebrow. “In public?”

Dani nodded. “Yeah.”

“Christ,” Jamie breathed, looking somewhat horrified.

“Language, sweetie,” Judy piped in, seemingly instinctively.

And like clockwork, Jamie ducked her head sheepishly. “Sorry,” she said, not looking sorry at all.

Judy laughed, patting Jamie’s arm. “Gosh, just look at us,” she breathed, her eyes shining as they bounced between Dani and Jamie. “I still can’t believe it. Me and my girls back together again. Who’d have thought?”

Dani breathed out a chuckle, her cheeks aching from the force of holding a smile in place, not knowing what else to say. And what could she say, really? That none of this felt familiar? That it all felt so wrong? That after years of absence, to finally be just arm’s length away from Jamie, only to feel like she was meeting a stranger wearing a familiar face?

No. No, that wasn’t right. She worried her lower lip between her teeth, but Jamie had never stopped watching her. A shared look passed between them and it was there, finally, that she found something warm and tangible. The ghost of a memory of sitting across the table from each other at Judy’s during dinner, sharing a secretive knowing smile, while Judy gushed over Dani’s help in the kitchen, or admonished Jamie for yet another skinned knee. A smile pulled at the corners of Dani’s mouth, slow and real. Jamie blinked, her gaze softening as she mirrored Dani’s smile, and for the first time in a long time, Dani felt something in her chest unspool.

A bell rang. Jamie glanced away, and the moment was gone, leaving Dani chilled in its absence as if she had stepped out from a warm building and into a storm.

“That’s my cue,” Jamie said, sounding just as she had before, as if nothing had transpired between them. “Can’t let the kid starve without some lunch.”

She moved to stand but Judy’s hand held her in place. “Don’t think you can get away again this time without at least letting me give you my number,” Judy reprimanded not unkindly. "We got a new one at the house, you'll be surprised to hear."

Grinning crookedly, Jamie said, “And I imagine you’ll be wanting mine, then?”

Judy pulled out a pen from her purse and waggled it back and forth. “You know me too well.”

Grabbing a spare napkin, Judy jotted down a series of numbers. “Now don’t you forget to give me a call, all right? I want to hear all about your time away,” she said, handing over the pen and napkin for Jamie to rip out her piece, and note down her own number. Dani’s eyes strayed down to the confident, angled numbers, just barely able to decipher them from her vantage point. “And I hope you know, you and Mikey are welcome any time over for dinner. I want to meet that young man. See if he’s anything like his older sister.”

The words were fond, but Jamie snorted all the same. “Don’t you worry, Mrs. O’Mara. He’s my better half.”

Dani rose to her feet out of politeness when Judy stood to give Jamie a parting hug. For a terrifying moment, she thought Jamie might expect one from her as well, but Jamie only lifted her eyebrows and nodded before turning towards the counter to collect her order. She didn’t glance in Dani’s direction again as she left, pushing through the glass door and striding off down the street with the breeze in her hair. Dani watched her go, jaw aching from how hard she was clenching her teeth together.

Judy sat, and Dani followed suit as though she were simply mimicking Judy’s movements. “Jamie Taylor back from the dead after ten years. Imagine that.” Judy chuckled to herself and picked up her fork. “Feels just like old times, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Dani breathed. “Just like old times.”

#thobm #the haunting of bly manor #dani clayton/jamie #bring home a haunting #dani clayton #jamie taylor #cfau #roman writes #FINALLY

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godkilller · 3 years

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@izzabizz139

I wanna hear you rant about the Gin vs Hitsugaya anime fight bc I love seeing your pov and you clearly write better than whoever extended that scene :) pretty please

out of character. DON’T ENABLE ME SO MUCH !! No but I cackled when I first saw this ask because oh my god, clearly you saw a taste of my annoyance about the anime adaptation -- no, adaptation implies it was accurate, I’ll say the anime’s take was “inspired by” the manga’s quick run-in. I’ll start by saying this moment is supposed to be a bit important considering, via the audience’s point of view, THIS IS THE FIRST WE SEE OF TWO CAPTAIN-RANKED SHINIGAMI CLASHING. The only other captain-involved fight we’ve seen thus far in the manga is Kenpachi ( who is an outlier and should not be counted... no, I joke... but, still, Ichigo was not an equal to him, his sword was sliced through like butter. ) The whole reason I enjoyed this encounter between Toshiro and Gin was simply this; it wasn’t some fancy multi-chaptered fight. IN THE MANGA, THERE ARE ONLY TWO BLOWS MADE. One, by Toshiro, to begin the fight. The second, to end it, is Gin’s strike.

I want you to know that I’ve rewatched this specifically to answer this ask, and only due to this, as I wouldn’t have ever sought it out otherwise. HONOR MY SACRIFICE.

Read more for length. I’m merciful.

In the anime, they monologue at each other, and it’s mostly a combination of Toshiro making three separate death threats ( he starts this off by saying “I’ll kill you before Hinamori arrives” and then goes on rewording it each time, and then also repeats the death-threat he gave Gin prior to this conflict about “I’ll kill you if Hinamori bleeds” ) and then also Gin and Izuru talking about how truly powerful and amazing Toshiro is -- no, this isn’t me being bitter or petty, I literally shit you not, Gin has a line that is legit “AS EXPECTED FROM HITSUGAYA TOSHIRO, CAPTAIN OF THE TENTH DIVISION, A CHILD PRODIGY OF TH' SORT THAT ONLY COMES ALONG ONLY ONCE EVERY FEW CENTURIES. HOW VEEEERY DANGEROUS. YOU’RE SERIOUS, AIN’T YA?” like don’t get me wrong, love a good sarcastic little shit comment like that, but the amount of times the anime pumps Toshiro up like he’s their shinest new cash cow ( and he is, at this point, it is not even 50 episodes into the series and they’ve realized everyone likes him and he’s jumped to high ranks in popularity polls... earning him filler spotlights, and eventually his very own non-canon movie ) so everything coming out of Gin’s mouth feels like more bullshit than necessary. Izuru’s already literally monologued, internally, how powerful and amazing Toshiro is anyways. Why this ?

Not to mention that, prior to saying that long-winded shit, Gin’s haori changed length three times ( and once it was longer than his entire body by several feet, and no not in a ‘to show motion’ way ) and most importantly Shinso was drawn, consistently, at katana-length for the duration of their little spat where the following, too, happened: Gin frog-leaps after doing a backflip, Toshiro gives Gin two (2) haircuts, Gin ruins some floorboards and gives Toshiro at least one splinter in his arm, Toshiro whilst wearing socks lands on Shinso’s blunt edge and pushes the sword down with his footsie because that’s how that works, there’s another backflip somewhere in there that Gin doesn’t need to be doing, twirl, twirl, and ballet, Gin’s face elongates until his chin is bigger than his face, Gin spends ten+ seconds purely dodging very close strikes to his face as Toshiro is the only one making breathy growly and ‘tsuuaaah’ sounds, there is a brief moment of no gravity as Toshiro keeps hacking at Gin midair and Gin blocks it over and over again but they still stay in the air but they’re not standing or jumping or using reiatsu they’re just like, momentum-locked I don’t fucking know, Gin frowny faces as he blocks because like somehow this kid who doesn’t even have more reiatsu than him, whose arm strength should not be an issue, is like. making him nervous?? as sword sparks fly. if you know me at all you know I hate when they fuckin’ firework sparkler-ify swords clashing.

Anyways, all of this happens whilst Shinso is the wrong length and Gin’s hair is getting purpler by the second and this entire thing is somehow a big jack-off to Toshiro’s immense strength even though he’s screaming and wailing at Gin like a child and Gin’s just a vessel at this point to Enhance Toshiro, which, fine, okay, but at least be more accurate with it god damn. ANYWAYS,

THEY JOUST. They literally run at each other, swords centered, and run past / to the side of one another. Jousting. “Cause that’s how that works. No slashes, no cutting motion. Just swords centered, because the animators were like “no worries guys I know swordfighting basics that’s a legit pose” yeah it is WHEN STATIONARY. Not rUNNING IT DOWN.

And then Gin’s sleeve is cut, somehow, from the Jousting, because wow Toshiro wow wow wowowowow, and then Toshiro comes back and starts wailing at Gin again and Gin blocks it, again, and it’s all very annoyingly repetitive, and Gin’s frowning and sparks are flying and Gin’s using Shinso, the katana-length wakizashi I guess, with two hands because like I said, the animators knew basics and basics are “katana are used two-handed” like. Okay, you’re not wrong, but I cannot stress this enough: SHINSO IS NOT A KATANA. It’s shorter and meant to be used single-handed!!!! sTop!!! So then Gin rips off the tattered part of his sleeve and throws it at Toshiro, who swipes it away from his face using his Zanpakuto because that’s intelligent and a piece of cloth was definitely threatening enough to use your sword to bat it away ( btw, Hitsugaya wasn’t holding his sword with two hands at this precise moment, so he could have just... used his other hand ) and then Gin goes in for the classic “stabby stabby rapidly at you while the animation gets a little breather because we repeat this cycle a few times with flashy bgs and phew money made” ... WE ARE FOUR MINUTES AND THIRTY SECONDS INTO THIS FIGHT BY THE WAY. Gin does this for seventeen (17) agonizing seconds straight. Yes, I counted. That was sixteen and a half too many seconds for me, personally.

Toshiro somehow lassos Shinso whilst Gin is stabby stabby-ing with Hyourinmaru’s chain component. I say component like it’s somehow some type of beauty guru’s lipstick holder, but really am I that wrong ? When else has he ever used this feature ? Anyways, he lassos Shinso because yeehaw I guess, god I’m falling apart at this point can y’all tell????? I need a drink.

and so, because now Toshiro has Gin’s sword somehow trapped with chain even though it’s just looped around it, he backflips over Gin for a cool trickshot, no blow issued, just vibes, and Gin uses a big brain moment to tug Shinso and the chains slide off. okay now what. We’re past five minutes into this fight, nonstop.

SOUNDS LIKE A GOOD TIME FOR GIN TO PAUSE AND APPRECIATE TOSHIRO AGAIN! “I see, I shouldn’t have underestimated you, HItsugaya Toshiro” I’m starting to have a feeling Gin’s VA was told to just wing these lines because the amount of times he fills silences / Gin’s mouth movements with Toshiro’s long-ass name is astounding, he’s definitely drawing blanks here but he sure as hell knows one thing: that damn ice-boy’s name. He continues by saying “I suppose I’ll end up regretting it afterwards.”

Toshiro says that’s not enough, and it’s really dramatic and cool. His eyes even glow all icy and blue and pretty, like his flowy reiatsu. Aesthetic points were gifted entirely to Toshiro’s animations in this scene. Gin was finished in MS Paint and each new scene they had to draw Shinso from memory and try to remember what hue of purple his hair was at gunpoint. Toshiro lets off a big wave of reiatsu and then it vanishes, and he jumps up reaaaally high. like this guy’s flying. his eyes arent glowing anymore that’s sad. Bring Back Glowing Eyes For Strong Shinigami 2k21.

Toshiro releases his Shikai, and it’s badass, the sky darkens, Izuru looks distinctly more worried than usual, and Gin’s frowning with his teeth out like Bugs Bunny’s having a bad day, all is right in the world. Toshiro and his released Shikai have a nice moment for the Pics, and a big epic freeze frame blur moment happens with it all coiled and swirling around him. Wrow! ( click the ‘wrow’ it’s a link to my exact reaction ) Izuru narrates for the third time about how powerful Toshiro is, his reiatsu, his Zanpakuto being a deity who is only unlocked every few centuries. The strongest ice-type sword. Pardon the pun, but that’s... you could say, so cool.

It can even control the weather. So hey, next time it’s rainy, cold, icy, or snowing and you’re unhappy, it’s time to direct a big fuck you at Toshiro.

Gin dodges the first dragon, and blocks the second with Shinso because blocking water and ice with a sword makes sense right? This actually takes a solid amount of seconds as Gin cuts through the entire length of this ice dragon noodle. Things dissipate, and pause, too, to really drag this out. Surprisingly, this reveals that Gin’s made a boo-boo, his left arm’s frozen, which doesn’t even mean anything because Gin is right-handed, and Toshiro teleports himself behind Gin in true fighty fashion.

We have arrived at seven minutes and just under twenty seconds of this fight, and Gin turns, DOES THE UNTHINKABLE, gasp! He opens his eyes. His red, dull, evil, gray-eyebrowed with purple hair eyes, and shoots Shinso through its hideout spot behind his haori. This nearly takes off Toshiro’s eye and upwards of his head, but the little guy dives down fast. The rest happens in slow motion, supposedly, because it takes an eternity and people talk entire full sentences in its span of time.

Gin asks Toshiro if he’s sure he’d like to dodge that ( it’s a little late for that ) and says that Momo’ll die if he does. SHINSO SCRAPING ALONG AGAINST HYOURINMARU STRANGELY MAKES NOT A SINGLE SOUND. Mute. Even though before they had no problem animating and adding sounds to them smacking blades earlier. There are soundless sparks though, so there’s that. Yay. Can you tell how exhausted this’s made me? I need a nap.

Shinso is already more than halfway towards Momo, still unconscious, she most definitely has a serious concussion via Toshiro backhanding her midair consider she’s been unconscious for longer than ten minutes. Toshiro has time to get up off the floor where he dropped to dodge, realize with a shocked gasp, turn, shout her name, and watch as Rangiku arrives in a random glow of gold which never happens ever again and blocks the attack with Haineko. Haineko almost cracks on the impact, and continues growing in damage as Rangiku holds Shinso there, implying that she’s stopped it from reaching one-hundred sword’s lengths to pierce Momo. Yes I’m including that implication / note in here because we love to see Rangiku succeeding in life and being Not-Helpless, all while potentially damaging Haineko severely if it wasn’t able to hold him off. Yikes, Gin!

Rangiku threatens to join the fight if he doesn’t withdraw his sword. Gin smiles, withdraws it, and then Shunpos away.

Whatta mess. Oh, and the anime fight was pretty fucked up, too.

This is a long post, but here’s the manga version:

Toshiro leaps into the air,

This is where the fight actually starts between them:

And end.

Five pages. Two blows. Does not equate to ten minutes of non-stop fighting and monologues. Sometimes, and I mean this in the most unbiased way possible, less is more.

#[ out of character ] masquerade; hide your face #me: i wanna reply to things!!#also me with eyes glowing red: no.#long post #LOOOONG POSTTTTT...#4 pages.#of text.#im so sorry.

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cutesuki--bakugou · 4 years

Text

Don’t Forget Me

Art in banner done by me.

College Life / Mermaid / Kimi no Na wa (Your Name) inspired AU

It’s all nothing but a dream. A series of dreams that are all too real. That’s all it is. Your soul - or whatever it was - couldn’t possibly be swapping places with a Merman. One, mermaids aren’t real. Two, that’s not even possible! Is it?

Mermaid!Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Human Reader

Want to start from be beginning? Check the Don’t Forget Me tag.

Genre: Romance / Angst Story

Rating: Explicit | Adult Themes, Interspecies Sex (merman / human), Masturbation, Alcohol, Animal death / hunting (whales, fish, sharks, etc), Cursing, Descriptions of Injuries and Blood

A/N: This is my part for the @bnhabookclub weekly collab event Just Add Water for MerMay! I know there isn’t much going on in this, but it’s just the first chapter to a new multichapter fic. Per the rules of the collab, I used the prompt “That’s just an urban legend”. I’m excited, because I’ve wanted to do a Mer!Bakugou x reader for a LONG time and could never think of anything. But when this theme was announced, I was watching Kimi no Na wa and immediately had this idea. So, full disclosure, the theme of switching bodies in their sleep / forgetting each other is inspired by that movie, but that is all that I take away from it.

Prologue: Stone

Chapter Rating: Teen | Cursing

Words: 1,855

You were doing it again.

How many times had you caught yourself staring at the delicate necklace in your hands? More than you could probably count on all your fingers and toes, and you were sure that number had nearly doubled just in the last week. You really weren’t sure why you were drawn to it so intensely, nor why it gave you such a deep sense of loss and loneliness.

Where had you gotten it from?

You couldn’t remember. In truth, you couldn’t remember getting it at all. As far as you could recollect, it had been around your neck when you woke up one morning, about two months ago. Since then, you refused to go a day without it, even if it didn’t necessarily match your outfit or any particular occasion. You felt so lost without it around your neck, like a part of you was away, off in some distant land or deep within the sea.

Why did you think that?

Of all things, why would you assume that this missing part of you was in the ocean? Was it because of the necklace? Probably. The silver clam shaped pendant that rested in your palm was most likely the culprit to make you think of the sea. But that particular piece of the jewelry wasn’t what kept you so entranced. Set in the middle was a small, perfectly round stone, and its brilliance is what you couldn’t help but stare into. To anyone else, it would just appear to be a small marble, with brilliant deep indigo, swirling turquoise and hints of radiant purples. There were sparkles of twinkling white, like light reflecting off a water's surface, and if you gazed into it long enough, you could have sworn that the colors were mixing and twisting, as if there truly was water inside the stone.

It was so beautiful. Had someone given it to you? Whoever did must have cared about you so deeply to give you something so special. You had asked all your friends and family if they knew anything about how you got it, but no one knew anything. You received some weird looks and uncomfortable responses when you tried to ask them, but that didn’t bother you much, not when you had been dealing with people finding you strange for almost half a year now, anyway.

Why did they find you weird again? You couldn’t remember.

All you knew was that it had to do with this necklace. You had tried to find out what it was made of to try and get any hints on where it may have come from, but each jewelry store or stone expert you took it to, they all had the same response. They just didn’t know. Many offered to buy it from you at varying prices, their interest peaked and their hopes of being the first person to discover a new stone pushing them forward. But you resisted, as just even letting it out of your hands so they could look at it enough to make you nearly burst into tears. You couldn’t let it go and you wouldn’t, either. Not ever. Not for anything.

Because it was precious. It was the only thing that you had that could help to calm this nearly unending sense of longing.

But what was it you were longing for?

Or who?

Why did that always pop up in your mind? There were so many pieces of scattered thoughts that you just couldn’t put together. A person. The sea. Feeling like a piece of you was missing. You wanted these feelings to end, but you knew that they wouldn’t, not until you found what you were searching for.

With a frustrated sigh, you put the necklace back on around your neck, clasping it in place with skilled fingers. Standing from your bed, you shuffled your way towards your desk, lightly running your fingers down along the slender metal chain. Your mind was still in a hazy grip of sleep, barely registering that the electronic clock mostly hidden by books and other stationary read 5:49 AM, though that didn’t really matter. Your mind was racing with the overbearing thoughts, and as you sat down in your squeaky office chair, you were already near breaking out into tears.

The necklace wasn’t the only clue you had. Scattered among the desk were notebooks and papers, though you had refused to touch them for the last few weeks. At first, you had meticulously looked over every page and every written note, trying to do everything you could to learn about who this person was that you were missing. But now they sat on your desk, abandoned in defeat. There were many things in the notes that didn’t make sense to you now, though according to what you had written, you had understood it all at one point.

What you had written.

That was what was the most odd. There were two very distinct handwritings within the notebooks and scribbled on the scrap pieces of paper or sticky notes. Yours was so proper and easy to read, clean and steady. The other was rough with some of the characters almost completely illegible, requiring you to assume what the person writing must have been trying to say. Large and scratchy, it almost resembled the handwriting of a child or what you assume would be someone new to writing on paper. The phrases. The choice of words. All of it was completely different from yours.

It had been another person. Someone sat in your chair, in your room, and wrote these messages to you. At first, you thought that it just had to be a prank. One of your friends was fucking with you. That was the only realistic solution. But none of them talked this way, and if you were honest, they weren’t exactly clever enough to pull off such a big ordeal over months and months.

The way they talked… It was so strange. You just couldn’t wrap your head around it, and if you were honest, you thought that they must have been a little crazy. Yet, you weren’t all that rattled in most of your responses, like you knew what they had been saying to be the truth.

The conversations were so… natural. In fact, most of it was like a diary, with the scratchy handwriting cataloging what had happened that day, how they felt about it, and what they had done.

This school shit that you humans do is so stupid and pointless. Who the fuck needs to know about… what is it called? Calculus? You’re never going to use that shit, I’m not bothering with keeping up with it, fuck that. You always catch up on your own anyway. That bitch Midoriya or whatever gave you some fucking flowers today. I thought about stomping on them and telling him to fuck off, but I just took them and left. You need to tell that prick you’re not into him or this shit will never stop. Also, the way you humans handle courtship is fucked. I didn’t do shit today otherwise. Just stayed in the room. I did find your sketchbook though. You’re getting better, but you still can’t remember us for shit.

Pulling your eyes up from the paper, they immediately landed on the mentioned sketchbook, which was tucked up beneath some schoolbooks. Carefully, you pulled it out, setting it down on the pile of papers to thumb through it.

It had been so long since you had even opened this thing. The feeling of the coarse paper beneath your fingertips brought a small smile to your face, as did seeing all your old sketches and doodles. Though, the smile faded as you reached near the middle of the sketchbook, your eyes tearing up immediately at the contents of the page. The page was completely covered in drawings of what looked to be mermaids, or mermen, to be more accurate. They were mostly faceless and unidentifiable, the sketches geared more towards poses and anatomy. The only thing mostly consistent was the tail. It seemed to be the same over all the drawings, with matching fins and scribbled patterns.

“Mermaids… I’ve never cared to draw them before, why did I…?”

After another turn of the page, you were met with similar things, only this time they had heads and hair, jewelry, pieces of clothing, and even weapons. Only one of the sketches resembled the previous drawings, and his particular features called to you. The feeling of recognition and longing grew fiercer with another turn of the page, which was all nothing but sketches of that particular merman’s head with varying expressions and positions. He was particularly attractive, with slanted piercing eyes and a mass of fluffy spiked hair on his head. He had fin-like ears that were mostly drooped, but flared out on the drawings with a more intense expression, where his mouth was open in a yell or intense fanged snarl.

A small gasp left your lips as a drop of liquid suddenly landed onto the paper, pulling you out of your daze. Crying? Why were you crying? Why did your heart feel like it was about to be ripped from your chest? It wasn’t possible for this to be the man that you had been longing for. You had drawn him as a mermaid! They weren’t real, and there was no way that was possible. He couldn’t even get into your room, let alone sit in your chair and write you letters.

“I’m so ridiculous…” You whispered quietly to yourself, wiping the tears from your flushed cheeks. Had you been blushing? You didn’t even notice. “Mermaids… That’s just an urban legend. A myth. I must have just been in a phase… Maybe I saw a movie or an anime with them, and I got super invested? But then… they’re so…”

Page after page, more sketches followed, some making you giggle while others made your chest ache so badly you thought you would pass out. But then, there was something scribbled onto a page that made your entire body grow cold, stomach twisting into such a tight knot you were sure that you’d vomit.

Save me.

“Save… Save you?” You choked out into the silent room with a trembling voice, more tears cascading down your cheeks as you reached up to grip the pendant around your neck tightly. It was in the familiar scratchy handwriting, though it was more frantic and messy than you had ever seen. Hiccupping, you brought the pendant up to your lips, pressing the stone against them as you struggled to calm yourself.

Save you from what? What the hell happened? Did I save you? Why the hell can’t I remember!

It was then that you felt an odd pulsing against your lips, and as you pulled away in shock, your teary gaze was locked onto the pendant in your hands, which was pulsing slowly with a pale green glow. And with it came a thought, like a soft voice whispering in your ear that you couldn’t ignore.

He’s calling to me…

#bnhabookclub #bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bakugou x reader #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha imagines #bnha scenarios #personal #collab #fanfiction #bnha writing blog #xreader #mermay #Merman!Bakugou #mermaid au #mer!bakugou

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passionate-reply · 3 years

Video

youtube

Whether you’re a Superman, a judge, a mom, or a dad, we can all appreciate the avant-garde genius of Laurie Anderson, the topic of this week’s installment of Great Albums! Find out what made Anderson’s breakout hit the most unlikely chart smash of the 80s, and what the rest of this amazing LP has in store, by watching my video or reading the full transcript below the break.

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! Today, I’ll be discussing one of the most unique and unforgettable albums around: Big Science, by Laurie Anderson. It’s very possible that you may not necessarily recognize her by name, but this album’s big hit has been riffed on and re-used many times throughout Western popular culture, so when I play it for you, it just might seem hauntingly familiar.

Music: “O Superman”

Put simply, “O Superman” is not your conventional pop hit, by any stretch of the imagination. It features little more than a sparse, barren electronic instrumental, and Anderson’s eerily vocoder-treated voice, not so much singing as acting out a one-woman stage play. It has much more in common with the avant-garde, minimalist works of 20th Century “modern classical” composers like Philip Glass and Steve Reich than it does anything you would hear on pop radio in the 1980s.

While you might assume that it entered mainstream consciousness through being used in some art film, it actually was a bona fide pop hit--particularly in Great Britain, which has always had a pronounced affinity for surprisingly weird chart entries. While the single was initially given only a small release, like most of Anderson’s earlier work, the prominent British radio DJ John Peel discovered it...and fell in love with it. And thanks to his frequent playing of it on the air, a lot of other people fell in love with it too, propelling it to #2 in the UK charts. I think it’s a testament to just how different the media landscape used to be, once upon a time in the 20th Century. Nowadays, the radio doesn’t really have room for idiosyncratic tastemakers like Peel, and the independent DJs who remain certainly don’t have the reach that Peel did. I suppose it’s the 20th Century version of sea shanties and other oddities becoming trends on social media.

But anyway, setting aside the strange legacy “O Superman” has as the world’s least likely hit single, we can appreciate it perfectly well as a moving work of art. “O Superman” is not really a pop song, but what it is is, perhaps, a desperate plea for comfort and protection. The figure, or concept, of “mother” seems to be the focus of the text, and serves as the apparent “final resort” of its insecure, searching rhetoric. We get this idea in a microcosm in the famous opening line, inspired by an aria by Jules Massenet: “O Superman, o judge, o Mom and Dad.” It’s an appeal to any and all higher powers, but culminates with perhaps the most primal, intuitive authority we can understand: our parents. Towards the end of the piece, the narrator begs to be held in the arms of “Mom,” but they’re described not as soft and warm, but “automatic,” “electronic,” and “petrochemical,” creating an uncanny conflation of innate human connections and the harshly artificial, technological conditions of modernity. Have we made the promises of technology and science into some sort of idol, looking to them for reassurance, and projecting onto them a goodwill or benevolence like a mother has for her children? Themes of high technology, as well as the search for safety and security, are found throughout the rest of the album, as is the stark, minimalist instrumentation.

Music: “From the Air”

Expanding somewhat on the references to aeroplanes found on “O Superman,” opening track “From the Air” is narrated by the captain of a doomed flight, instructing the passengers how to handle the imminent “crash landing.” It’s many people’s very worst nightmare, and plunges us straight into the sense of fearing for our lives, in a situation that’s completely beyond our control. A bold move for the very first track we hear! “From the Air” leads with somewhat plausible suggestions, like a very dated request that passengers “extinguish all cigarettes,” but gradually becomes increasingly surreal, adding to that nightmarish feeling. Anderson delivers her lines with a palpable sense of authority, that stirs you to want to obey her character even as they prove their unreliability. A taut, unresolved saxophone-driven ostinato throughout the track provides a constant sense of tension and anxiety, which certainly suits the mood. Until the end of the song, at which point it abruptly cuts off--presumably to represent the crash occurring, and the sudden deaths of those on board.

I like to think of “From the Air” as a sort of dark counterpart to “O Superman,” the latter of which is the opening track of the second side. While “O Superman” deifies technology as a source of maternalistic comfort, “From the Air” presents us with the ultimate failure of technology: slick and polished until the end, but unable to provide any real hope of meaningful security. That human desire for security is interrogated more directly on the final track of side one: “Born, Never Asked.”

Music: “Born, Never Asked”

While “Born, Never Asked” is much more laconic than tracks like “From the Air” and “O Superman,” it’s no less probing and thought-provoking, presenting us with a world of people who are, fundamentally, “free”--and yet deeply unsatisfied. “You were born,” quips Anderson, “and so you are free.” But we’re all too busy asking for a bigger answer, and some explicit, deeper meaning to our existences, that we can’t appreciate the simple freedom to live our lives however we want to, in the absence of any overt goals. The track begins by establishing a stately, handclap-driven backing, which serves to underscore the plainness or simplicity of its message, and is ultimately overtaken by a mournful violin outro--perhaps the embodiment of our emotional turmoil, as we seek the comfort of clear answers despite the fact that they never arrive. If only the world were as simple and well-defined as it seemed to be when we were children, filled with unthinking and unconditional love for our mothers!

“Born, Never Asked” asks us to question what it really means to be “free,” and whether or not it’s even satisfying or helpful to possess “freedom.” It’s worth noting that all of the pieces that comprise Big Science were chiefly intended as part of Anderson’s much longer magnum opus, entitled United States, which she completed in 1984. In that context, criticism of the value of “freedom” is perhaps also criticism of certain traditional American moral values. While “O Superman” prominently mentions “American planes,” I think the track that has the most to say about being American is the title track of the album.

Music: “Big Science”

The title track of Big Science takes us to a desolate and mostly empty landscape, defined more by its potential to be moulded into something habitable than anything it already, innately is. It’s a frigid perspective on America as terra nullius, a wasteland filled with nothing but ultra-recent and ultra-artificial capitalist “developments” as opposed to any real history or meaning. With its chilling coyote-like howls, and nods to Western movies and dependence upon cars, it can easily be contextualized as particularly American, but ultimately, the human drive to “improve” our environment through questionable (and perhaps even destructive) means is fairly universal. Much like the emotionally unsatisfying sense of freedom bestowed upon those who are born, in “Born, Never Asked,” the title track of Big Science shows us a world full of endless possibilities, but devoid of any true happiness born of those possibilities.

The term “big science” dates back to the Mid-20th Century, and has been used to describe the increasingly large scale of many significant scientific efforts, particularly those supported by world governments...and particularly, their militaries. During and after the Second World War, it became increasingly necessary for nations that wanted a place on the world stage to rope science into the military-industrial complex, especially in light of the development of atomic weaponry. Given the album’s thematic emphasis on the way we look to science and technology to provide some aegis of protection, and often in harmful or destructive ways, it’s a very fitting choice for the title.

I think that connection to the nuclear bomb is also an important key to interpreting the album’s cover art. On the cover of Big Science, we see Anderson lit very harshly from the right--so much so that her sunglasses are rendered completely white by the powerful light. While her pose is very deliberate, and perhaps even stilted, she appears to be raising her arms as though to shield herself from whatever is casting this bright light. Is Anderson perhaps portraying an atomic scientist, observing a nuclear blast with its signature burst of radiant light?

Overall, however we interpret this gesture, the black and white imagery and completely empty backdrop seem to pair well with that sparse and minimalistic instrumentation. Anderson appears on the cover with her signature costume, a solid white suit which, when paired with her short hairstyle, gives her a somewhat androgynous appearance. It also looks a bit like a labcoat, often worn by scientists and doctors--figures who culturally embody the principle of benevolent authorities backed by the power of technology and science.

Whenever artists who only briefly felt the spotlight of mainstream success are discussed, it can be tempting to ask whether or not such figures “deserved” more or better. In the case of Anderson, though, she never expected “O Superman” to become the breakout hit that it did, and never followed it up with anything actively pursuing the pop charts. In the wake of her most famous work, Anderson went right back to doing what she had been doing: making great, but totally avant-garde, art. She’s a figure of “art music,” and the “art world,” through and through, performing her elaborate multimedia works at museums, appearing in a number of festival-circuit art films, and accepting honourary degrees. Anderson has had a perfectly successful career, dwelling precisely in the realm of her choosing, and I don’t think there’s any better outcome than that. If you like Big Science, you’ll find plenty more striking and evocative works throughout the rest of her long and ongoing career.

Music: “Sharkey’s Day”

My favourite track on Big Science is “Sweaters.” With a Celtic-sounding melody, a grating fiddle, and perhaps the most vocally hated musical instrument of all time, the bagpipes, “Sweaters” is a dirge about an ancient subject: falling out of love. But despite its backward-looking folk setting, the jump from “I no longer love your eyes” to “I no longer love your sweaters” anchors it into the realm of the totally mundane...if not banal. Overall, though, what I think really makes it stand out on the album is its sense of levity. As I’ve discussed earlier, Big Science is loaded with really heavy themes about technology, Americana, and the meaning of life...so a song that’s not only about a romantic relationship, but also about sweaters, pens, and pencils, jammed into the middle of the first side, really feels like a sort of palate cleanser while you’re listening to this. That’s all for today--thanks for watching!

Music: “Sweaters”

#music #laurie anderson #great albums #album review #album reviews #experimental music

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bubble-tea-bunny · 5 years

Text

searching for sunshine

[tamaki suoh x reader]

author’s note: tamaki suoh is my anime bf i love him so much. this has been a psa. inspired by this prompt

word count: 5,147

It feels like the opening scene of a romance novel, the way everything begins.

The sky is clear and blue this afternoon and the air is pleasantly warm, enough to go without a coat and enjoy the occasional cool gust of wind tickling the skin. Downtown sees a fair amount of people traipsing up and down the sidewalks, the main street lined with boutiques featuring the latest fashion and trendy cafes with chalkboard signs advertising their specials for the weekend.

Tamaki’s roped Kyoya into joining him at the shops, on the condition Tamaki be the one to pay for lunch. That had been an easy deal to make. The agreed upon restaurant is at the corner of the current block—it’s expensive, Kyoya had made sure of it, but both of them know the price is no issue. Still, Kyoya doesn’t like to make things so simple, but Tamaki supposes that’s just one reason he likes him so much.

There’s ten minutes until their scheduled meeting time and as Tamaki is wont to do, he gets distracted a mere four shopfronts away from his destination. His walk until now had mostly been casual glances into the windows, scanning this season’s collection but with no desire to stop and get a closer look. That changes as he slows to a complete stop, standing before a mannequin donning a gray jacquard cotton jacket, paired with casual slacks and sneakers. Tamaki hums in thought, hand on his chin, and mentally runs through his wardrobe for any outfits he might be able to put together with that jacket. He’d been eyeing a similar jacket from last fall, but the pattern and colors hadn’t been to his taste. This one, however…

Kyoya can wait an extra five minutes, can’t he? Tamaki has walked up to the front door and nodded in thanks to the security guard who pulls it open for him before he can come up with an answer. But in the back of his mind as he walks up to an employee to inquire about the jacket, he’s thinking Yes, he can. Not as if it’s anything new anyway, and Tamaki knows he’ll be left grinning and chuckling sheepishly when he finally arrives, late, and with a shopping bag in hand (because he’s quite sure, now that he’s been shown the jacket for inspection and he’s started to feel the fabric, that he will be leaving with it).

He shrugs off his cardigan and tosses it on the back of one of the plush sofa chairs so he can try the jacket on. It fits him well, shoulder seams lining up perfectly, and it isn’t too long. The material is soft to touch, and he notes to the employee assisting him that this would suited both for colder and warmer weather. I might just buy it then wear it out of the store! he jokes.

Deciding to purchase the jacket had been quick, but he gets even more sidetracked as he starts to inquire about the rest of this season’s editions (he had, admittedly, not been following the collections too closely recently) and it seems Kyoya would have to wait an extra ten minutes instead. Though luckily his patience is spared from any more delay, for Tamaki glances quickly at his watch in the middle of conversation and realizes he should get going. He says he’d like to buy the jacket, and he meanders around the store as the employee takes it to the back of the store to pack up for him.

The shop had been receiving a steady flow of customers in his time here, but now it’s quieted down to just a few others. Your laugh is what grabs his attention, and his eyes find you where the bags are, a quilted leather purse with a little tassel slung on your shoulder, which you observe in the mirror, angling your body to see how it goes with your outfit. He doesn’t catch the context of the conversation with the employee helping you, and thus isn’t certain why you’ve laughed, but that matters little to him compared to the laugh itself and, more importantly, the smile on your face. It stays there, a small upturn of your lips, even after the amusement from the joke or the funny quip wears off, and he’d like the softness of it to lull him to sleep.

And perhaps Kyoya’s patience hasn’t quite been spared.

Tamaki pretends to browse the backpacks, a sly attempt to get closer to you. He wants to say he isn’t eavesdropping, but if he did, he’d be lying. With his gaze on a leather backpack and his fingers tinkering with the zippers, he overhears your hesitation about that particular purse, wondering if maybe the one you’d been considering before would be better. The employee asks if you’d like him to take said bag back down from the shelf so you could compare, and that’s when Tamaki finally looks up. You’re still wearing the quilted leather purse.

“I think that one suits you nicely.”

You blink and twist around to see who’s made the comment, and Tamaki’s prepared with a friendly grin. Your confusion melts away and it gives way to that wonderful smile again, and you ask curiously, “You think so?”

Tamaki hums in affirmation, and, taking your continuation of the conversation as a positive signal, leaves the backpacks behind to join you in front of the mirror. He stands off to the side and tries not to crack a smile too big as you strike a couple of poses, giving him varying angles from which to judge just how well this bag matches your style. Of course, he doesn’t know you well enough to say if it truly suited you, but he’s always had a knack for this kind of thing.

“Quilted leather is a sophisticated choice,” he elaborates. “Mature and modern.”

Your eyes narrow thoughtfully as you mull over his words. (You are so cute!) And your smile could light the deepest reaches of space. “You’re right. It does look good.” You undersell yourself. It looks great.

Tamaki chuckles and nods his approval, then tilts his head curiously, glancing at your bag then over at the shelves to appraise the other colors choices for this model. “But maybe get it in antique rose… That is the color this season.” Thank goodness he’d had that conversation about the new collection just a few minutes ago.

The employee who’d been helping him finally emerges, his jacket tucked away in a box, which has been placed into a bag, ready to go. She calls out to him and he tells her he’ll be right there. He turns his attention back to you briefly, hating to have to part ways.

“I hope I could be of help,” he states.

You smile. “You’ve been plenty. Thanks.”

He’d like to be a whole lot more to you. You’ve quickly found a spot to settle down in a corner of his brain, and he thinks about you the whole duration of his walk to the restaurant (“You’re twenty minutes late, Tamaki!”) and then some.

Kyoya gets an earful over lunch, and he doesn’t react the entire time Tamaki recounts the experience but Tamaki doesn’t mind because he knows Kyoya is listening. At the end of his spiel, Kyoya just has one question: Did you get her name?

Tamaki deadpans. “I didn’t…” It’s a quiet confession, as if he’s embarrassed, or more accurately, as if he’s shocked that he’d never asked for it. He’d liked you enough that he really would have enjoyed talking to you more, but the employee had come out with his jacket and Kyoya had already been waiting so long and—!

Had he been flustered? He definitely didn’t feel as though he was, but it was difficult not to be set at ease by your little grin. Maybe it made him forget, maybe you made him forget that he was supposed to be the one charming you and not the other way around. Where had the Tamaki Suoh, king of the host club, been? A club where sweet-talking girls is literally his job. Had you outdone him, to captivate him before he could do it to you and what’s more, to do so without words?

His heart beats quicker at the realization that that is very much what happened and the fluster was merely delayed. He feels it full force now, the disappointment to still not know who you are and the shock to have been caught off guard like this. And he bemoans to Kyoya, repeating miserably I didn’t get her name, Kyoya…! It’s halfway to an exasperated sob of disappointment and Kyoya sighs at the theatrics.

“Who knows, perhaps you’ll run into her again,” he remarks in an attempt to comfort the distraught blond.

“I’d need a whole lot of luck for that,” Tamaki responds, huffing hopelessly.

“You’ve had luck on your side many times before. What’s one more?”

Tamaki purses his lips and acquiesces with a noncommittal shrug. Even if that were true, when’s the next time he’d come across you? Who knows how long that could be! For now, the image of your amiable grin would have to do, to keep him going, to keep him motivated to be on the lookout. He’ll dream that the glint in those kind eyes of yours are glittering from affection and not just the overhead lights of the shop with its carpeted floors and plush chairs and complimentary bottles of expensive sparkling water.

Come Monday, Kyoya’s forced to hear the same speech again as Tamaki recounts his conversation with you, this time to the rest of the club. He’s standing, too jittery with excitement to sit as the memory of you is pushed to the forefront. Everyone else is lounging back on the couches, all with varying expressions of confusion and amusement as Tamaki gestures enthusiastically. The tone of his voice denotes just how taken he had been with you. And in a fit of his textbook histrionics, he brings the back of his hand up to his forehead, eyes closed, like he’s feeling faint.

“She was mesmerizing.”

Hikaru raises a brow. He’s never seen Tamaki so caught up on anyone, at least not genuinely. He’s played up this act when on the clock for the club, dazzling girls left and right and professing them to be the apple of his eye, the forbidden fruit in the garden he would gladly partake of. To be honest, it’s a bit… strange to see it now, real and unrehearsed. “I bet.”

It’s only partly sarcastic, but before Tamaki gets the chance to be annoyed, Kaoru interjects. “Then ask her out.”

Tamaki’s hand goes from his forehead to clutch at his chest and he looks offended at the proposition. “Are you out of your mind?! She’s gorgeous, and when I say gorgeous, I mean traffic collision-causing gorgeous.”

Honey tilts his head. “Wow, she must be really pretty for you to say that, Tama-chan!” Mori grunts in agreement.

“You never have a problem talking to girls,” Hikaru states. “She’s really got you hooked, hasn’t she?”

“Well, yeah, but also…” Tamaki sighs, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I can’t ask her out anyway because I may not have… exactly… asked for her name.”

Kaoru’s eyes widen. “So you don’t even know who she is?”

“Then how will you ever see her again?” Hikaru asks.

Tamaki groans, the panic setting in once more as the twins remind him of his initial doubt. He laments that he has no idea if he’ll ever see you again and he really messed this up big time and how could he be the president of something like the host club if he missed something so simple and maybe the charm’s only good when he’s the one in control because it’s clear that with you, you were the one with the reins and he was letting you steer by no will of his own. Is that what it felt like to be at the mercy of his own allure?

“Now now,” Kyoya interrupts before Tamaki digs himself into a hole of self-pity, finally looking up from his accounts book. “We all know Tamaki’s got a fair amount of luck. Who’s to say he won’t see her again?”

“Me,” Hikaru mutters. Kaoru lightly elbows him but he’s cracked a small smile, unable to be contained.

Tamaki glares at them, brow twitching. “I heard that.”

“Don’t worry, I think you’ll run into her!” Honey reassures. “Maybe even soon!”

Tamaki sighs, still not entirely convinced but grateful for at least some consolation. Keep dreaming he tells himself, and typically such a statement denotes cynicism and a warning not to hold one’s breath, but he says it with an optimistic authenticity, a reminder to keep the thought of you close, because maybe it’ll bring you closer to him, and he would indeed have the pleasure of crossing your path again.

Murmurs of a second-year transfer fill the halls one day, and the atmosphere is buzzing with excitement at the prospect of a new student. She’s coming from another prestigious academy outside the country. She moved here after her father, one of the higher-ups of an investment bank, was moved to the local branch. The girls gossip and giggle, hoping she’s nice and exclaiming they can’t wait to meet her. The boys wonder if she’s cute.

Tamaki flips to a new page in his notebook in preparation for the following lecture and smiles a little as he picks up bits and pieces of the chatter in the classroom. The new student is in his class, so they’re more excited than the rest. He’s looking forward to meeting her, just the same as everyone else, and he ponders if he could persuade her to visit the host club. He knows just the trick—he’d sweep her off her feet, pull her in with sweet words and the suggestion that her sweet company might be better enjoyed with sweet treats. And so why not stop by to see him? He’ll serve her tea, admire the gloss of her lips once she takes a sip and admit that he yearns to taste the remnants of the rose tea still settled upon them.

He’s too busy smiling to himself at what he considers to be a very well-thought-out plan, to notice that the teacher has arrived and the rest of his classmates have settled into their seats. It’s only when the teacher begins to speak and alert them of the arrival of the newest student that he looks up.

Either luck truly favors him or he’s done so much fantasizing that fate could ignore his desires no longer and conceded to his pleas. His eyes widen at seeing you at the head of the classroom, and you also seem to have noticed him right away, as you’ve already been watching him. He can’t hear the teacher introducing you over the buzzing in his ears, and he’s paranoid this is actually a dream, and he fell asleep at his desk, and you’re not the one who’s joining his class and he’ll just wake up later to find out who it is.

“—so make sure you help her feel welcome here!”

At the end of the teacher’s little speech, you bow slightly in respect, enunciating your words so everyone can understand as you say thanks, and remark that you hope to be a worthy addition to Ouran Academy.

Tamaki still can’t wipe the shock off his face even as you proceed down his row, to the empty desk two spaces back. Your gaze momentarily finds his again and you smile, small and imperceptible but one of recognition and his heart will probably burst out of his chest any second now. He catches a whiff of your perfume, vibrant and refreshing—it reminds him of Biarritz—and it’s only now that he registers the bag on your shoulder, fashioned with quilted leather and colored an elegant antique rose.

Sure, fate’s made it simpler by pushing you together, but it didn’t make it completely easy. Tamaki’s not the one to sweep you off your feet first. It’s the gaggle of girls who swarm around you during every break period that sweep you away. You’re occupied with them the remainder of the day, and Tamaki spares occasional glances in your direction, checking for any opening to insert himself but finding none.

By the end of the school day, he hasn’t said a word to you, and duties to the host club have him in music room 3 directly after his last class. He gushes about you to the others again, but he does so even quicker than before due to the short time allotted before the club opens its doors for the day. I can only hope that those girls convince her to come here! he states, desperation apparent in his voice. She’s so close yet so far away!

Hikaru shakes his head at Tamaki’s woe is me dramatics. The fact you’ve ended up at the same school was already a lot for him to process. It seems too ridiculous to be true that the very girl Tamaki had run into has come here. By this point, you stopping by the music room had to happen at least once. He addresses this to temper the president’s distress. “If she’s already at Ouran, she’s bound to end up at the host club eventually.”

“Yes, eventually…” Tamaki assents with a sigh. “But I would prefer sooner rather than later.”

They’re not left to linger on the conversation for longer than that, as Kyoya announces it’s time to open. The boys are always booked straight through, and the first appointments start coming in almost immediately. Tamaki take a deep breath, then dons his kingly smile and gets to work.

He tries to imagine each girl is you, and it pushes him to layer on the extra charisma. When they melt at his words and his proclamations of love and devotion, the pride he feels comes from fantasizing that it’s you who turns into a puddle before him. If your charm was at 100 percent, he would just have to increase his to 200.

The room always smells like roses and Tamaki hasn’t kept count of how many he has given today. The scent is gentle, beautiful like all the girls he has the privilege to entertain, but deep down he’s longing to take in the fragrance of that French seaside town and pretend that the warmth of the sun shining into the music room is washing over him as he sits on the white-sand beach and listens to the lapping of waves on the shore.

Before any of the host club members know it, they’ve run down their list of appointments and the day’s activity is at an end. None of them is ever cognizant of the time and it always comes as a surprise when the crowd dies down and Kyoya announces they’re done. The tea sets clank quietly as they clean up the space in preparation for tomorrow. The tables are put away, leaving most of the room bare save for a couple of couches which are too large to bother moving every day.

Hikaru and Kaoru are discussing the last girl they had as they stack saucers, and how adorable she had been, trying her best to guess which twin was which with a deep blush on her cheeks. She had it right the first time Hikaru recalls. Kaoru chuckles. But she’d been so flustered, she kept changing her answer!

Once the room is cleared and they’re about to make their leave, a knock on the door interrupts their conversations. They look to the entrance and watch as the knob is turned and the heavy door is pushed back. Your head peeks through the gap, curious eyes double-checking the room you’re at before finding the group of boys standing in the middle.

“Oh, um…” you start quietly. Remembering that trying to speak while halfway hidden is no polite means of conversation, you step fully inside, but remain by the door. “Some girls told me I should visit the host club, but I didn’t get a chance until now. Music Room 3 right? Though it looks like you’re done for the day…” You chuckle nervously, motioning to the almost empty space.

Every host club member but Kyoya turns his gaze to Tamaki, who hardly seems to notice, for his attention is solely on you. He stutters, some incoherent words leaving his mouth like he’s forgotten how to speak. You purse your lips, staying where you are and unsure if you’re able to venture in farther. You’re smiling as you look at them (but Tamaki can swear you’re looking right at him), though as the seconds tick by you wonder if maybe you should leave.

“I mean I can always… come back tomorrow?” you suggest, now a little confused.

“Nonsense.” Kyoya pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and steps forward. “Miss [Name], how have you been enjoying Ouran so far?”

Your smile is more at ease now that the conversation is going somewhere, and you tell him you love it here. Everyone is so nice! He follows up with questions as to how your father is settling in at his new location, and how his own father is looking forward to doing business with yours. You nod, mentioning how your father has also expressed interest in working with The Ootori group.

The clearly familiar air between you surprises the others, but Tamaki most of all. He has already blocked out the business talk between you and Kyoya, and interrupts it with an exclamation, equal parts shock and betrayal to discover Kyoya knows, and apparently has already known, who you are.

“You know her?!” Tamaki yells, stumbling forward and clutching Kyoya’s shoulder to shake him to and fro.

Kyoya is nonplussed by the action, and instead seems inconvenienced to be treated in such a manner in the presence of the child of another noteworthy businessman. “Of course I do, Tamaki. You know I like to get acquainted with notable people such as [Name]. We met a couple of weeks ago, during dinner with her and her parents.”

Tamaki slowly stops shaking Kyoya and stills, but his fingers are still curled into the fabric of his blazer. He considers the timeline with this new piece of information, and weakly, he voices the revelation which has come to him. “So you already knew it was her…? When I talked about her that one day?”

“You talked about me?”

Tamaki’s eyes shoot to you at your question, and his cheeks heat up at inadvertently admitting that to you. But you don’t appear to be weirded out or put off, judging by your smile, flattered that you had stuck with him as much as you had that he felt the need to share his experience with his friends (he would yell it from the rooftop too if you wanted him to). Still, he can’t help laughing nervously, spluttering and shrugging that yeah, okay, he did, but he wasn’t being creepy about it he swears and it’s just he’d really enjoyed the conversation he had with you even if it was just two minutes and about something so bland as bag colors—

“I can hardly recognize him,” Hikaru murmurs so only the other three host club members with him can hear. They’re all still standing in the center of the room, unintentional spectators to the situation unfolding in front of them.

“Yeah, who knew Tama-chan could be so awkward!” Honey exclaims, and he doesn’t try to lower his volume the way Hikaru had.

Tamaki looks mortified as Honey’s words hang in the air, but those following few seconds of silence are broken by your laugh. Everyone looks at you, though you’re hardly bothered, and Tamaki would like to hide away. Was the club just out to embarrass him? At this rate, you might not take him seriously!

“Well, [Name], while the host club is closed for the day,” Kyoya states, “I think we have the space for one more.” He turns to Tamaki, brow raised expectantly.

Tamaki, even for all his nerves, thankfully catches on quickly. “Yes, of course!” Then he turns to you and your little grin, and he’s a snowman on a warm, sunny day. “That is, if you’d have me?”

Your grin grows. He’s melting at an exceptional rate. “I would.”

Kyoya ushers out the rest of the host club members, who smile and wave to you in greeting as they pass you on the way to the doors. As soon as they click shut, and the two of you are alone, Tamaki ushers you to one of the lone couches. Internally he’s sighing with relief that there’s no one else here anymore. Now the others can’t embarrass him further.

“We usually give every girl a rose, but I’m afraid we’re all out for the day. If you’d like some tea, however, I could make you a cup.”

You smile but politely refuse, not wanting him to go out of his way. They’d already clearly been prepared to leave when you got here, and you don’t want him to do extra work after you have also left. Tamaki nods, says All right, and his chest blooms with warmth at how considerate you are. We can just talk then.

He joins you on the couch, watching as you set your bag on the coffee table, and he compliments the color. “It looks cute on you.”

“Thanks,” you respond. “I did have a little guidance from someone.”

“Whoever it was guided you well,” Tamaki teases.

Your eyes twinkle, and he wants to go stargazing with you. “He did.”

Then you turn the tables on him, bringing back up the topic of him having mentioned you to his friends. He smiles sheepishly and confesses, more easily now that you’re alone, that yeah, he had. But I just couldn’t help it, he elaborates. I had the passing thought that you were pretty, but then I got closer, and we started talking, and then I couldn’t stop thinking about you.

Even now, you blow him away, and it doesn’t matter that you’re in the same floor-length yellow dress as all the other girls at Ouran. You wear it so well to begin with, but what you wear better than the rest, and what he cares the most about, is that smile. It has found a home on your beautiful face, and you’re the sunshine cascading over him in Biarritz and the cool ocean breeze and he is overwhelmed but in all the right ways.

He has no dramatics, no acting to exaggerate his feelings. In this moment, he isn’t host club Tamaki. He is raw and unfiltered, just Tamaki. And everything feels backwards, that he is the one who’s quiet and shy, and his skills at waxing lyrical, as though fed the words by the gods themselves, have gone out the window. He doesn’t want to mess up in front of you, to make a fool of himself, but as you duck slightly, to slide into view of his downturned gaze, a fond smile on your face, he thinks he must be doing something right.

“I went to a jewelry shop after I bought the bag,” you say. He’s looking at you now so you sit back up straight. “I saw a pair of amethyst earrings and it reminded me of you.”

“It did?” he breathes out, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing, and to be honest, he almost doesn’t.

You nod and hum. “They reminded me of your eyes. They’re the prettiest I’ve ever seen, you know. I couldn’t get them out of my head.”

His heart wrenches to learn he has been on your mind, and it almost hurts how hard it twists. Never once had he anticipated it might be the same for you, that your seemingly inconsequential conversation about what purse you should buy would stick with both of you. To the point that perhaps you too have been longing for the time to come when you saw him again, and you watched the sun rise and set and rise again, all the while longing rife in your little sighs as you wonder when that might be. He would have searched for you all the way to the end of the galaxy, and maybe, maybe, maybe, you would have done so for him too.

He slowly cracks a smile, cheeks reddening, and he doesn’t know what to say but you don’t need him to say anything as you giggle at his lack of response. You’ve not seen him in action in the host club, so you don’t have any reason to tease him for acting so uncharacteristic. To you, this is how he always is. But you’re fine with taking the lead as you ask him questions about the school and about the city, wanting to know more about your new home, and he is happy to answer and tell you stories, and even offers to show you around.

If he falls into the bottomless pools of your eyes he’d like to stay there forever. Do they feel as warm as they look? The more you two talk, the more Tamaki realizes that what charm you had pulled him in with, had entranced him wholly and utterly, had been just a taste of your true potential. You had much more in store, and he realizes he is no match for you. Not that he minds being the one to be swept off their feet.

By the time he walks you out to your car, pulled up to the front gates of the school grounds, which are much quieter now that everyone has left, you’ve made plans to go back downtown on the weekend. He pulls open the door for you.

“Don’t forget to stop by the club tomorrow!” he reminds you. “3:15 sharp!” You aren’t in the schedule for tomorrow, but Kyoya would make an exception. (If he didn’t, Tamaki would make him.)

“Sharp, yes, got it!” You give him a thumbs up. “I’ll see you, Tamaki!”

You tuck your hair behind your ears so you can see clearly when you slide into the backseat, and as you do, Tamaki catches a glimpse of the amethyst earrings you’re wearing. You don’t notice his smile, which stays there even after your car has driven off, even as he stands on the sidewalk and watches as it disappears around the corner. And he knows confidently that yes, you would have ventured to the edges of the galaxy to find him again too.

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