#because shouts from the rooftops ELY ELY ELY ELY!!

[aromanticasterisms]

FONTAINE TEASER OH MY FUCKING GOD

[guardarecheluna]

There's a version of life that i want, and it's just like this.

Words: 4.6K

Warnings: embarrassingly sweet fluff that may be giving you a toothache.

A/N: hi loves! Now let me tell you, THIS was self-indulgent. But I’m blaming some of you who’s asking for Harry and Y/N’s first meeting, SO, here you go, it’s absolutely filled with cliches and fluff – which is exactly what I’m into. Please let me know what you thought of this and if you'd like to hear more from them! <3

Summary: Their first meeting. Eyes searching for the other in the sea of people, clumsy, clammy hands grabbing at each other in the night, just for some sort of connection. Y/N swore up and down that love isn’t something you just find, it’s something you create. Oh, how wrong she was.

Masterlist HERE

The first meeting

It was just like that love that you read about in the books. It was fast, simple, pure and most of all, requited.

Harry and Y/N were very aware that whenever they were asked the story about how they first met, the story was often received and answered to with a sigh and a roll of their eyes. They knew, it sounded like an absolute fairytale. Not that there hadn’t been bumps in the road; there had been many, but the first night they met were free of any bumps and awkward conversations. Because when love was found, they wanted to sing it to the deep blue sea, from the high rooftops, that they had found their person. And that feeling; that night, is something no person or situation will ever take away from them - no matter how many rolled their eyes.

May 7th, 2019

“Y/N get a goddamn grip or I’m leaving without you.” Maya had yelled to Y/N from the lounge. A unusually huge glass in her hand filled with whatever alcohol she could find in Y/Ns apartment. Maya was already bothered, huffing and puffing when she arrived at Y/Ns apartment, and to find Y/N not yet ready for their outing was just one more inconvenience.

Y/N and Maya had been friends since university, and now, well into their 20s their friendship only grew more and more solid. “You need to give me a moment, Maya,” Y/N shouted back, keeping her voice as still and calm as she could, wanting Maya to calm down. Although she knew better than to use her gentle tone with Maya when she was upset, she snickered, knowing that Maya may as well be completely out of her mind by now. “Jesus fucking Christ on a boat, Y/N, don’t start.” Maya said under her breath. Y/N could hear her in the lounge, heavy feet waltzing around with angry, toddler-like steps, on a mission to get her point across that they needed to get a move on.

Y/N was just doing the finishing touches, perfume, bracelet, and a deep breath in the mirror. “Alright, we’re good,” she said, looking at herself, almost examining herself, looking for a reason to not step out of the front door. Not that there was anything holding her back besides her bed, Netflix and maybe some baking of a mudcake, but all of that just sounded much more tempting than their friend’s birthday party.

They were a small gaggle of friends from university still seeing each other now and then. They weren’t as close as Y/N and Maya were, but it was enough to see them a few times a year and get invitations to their parties. It was their friend Eli’s birthday this time, coupled with Eli’s boyfriend, who’s birthday was just around the corner.

Eli was an absolute whirlwind of a woman, energetic, social and constantly engaging with others because of it. A big party like this was Eli’s dream. She and her boyfriend, Melwin, had rented out this private property on the outskirts of London. A party pad by the lake with a huge outside area, bedrooms for all, and most importantly, a full bar. As you could guess, Eli was loaded. Or, actually, her family was. And while this party had been a bucket list thing for Eli for a long time, and it was definitely still special, it was also common for Eli to throw big parties.

Y/N and Maya had of course promised Eli that they were coming and staying over, since they had to get there with a car.

Y/N took one final look in the mirror, and then grabbed her packed bag from her chair, stuffing it with a few final things, the perfume from earlier, her trusted Aquaphor, charger and ID.

“I’m guessing I’ll be getting us there.” Y/N said, as she stepped out of her room, eyebrow rose in question of what she was witnessing. Maya was gulping down the final drops of whatever alcohol she had found in Y/N’s cupboard. Maya dragged the back of her hand against her lips making a face at the taste of the harsh alcohol, already regretting her decision of having a pre drink. “You know, we’re going to have to last until the morning, why are you doing this to yourself?” Y/N continued, laughing at Mayas face and the absolute amateur behaviour she was showing off. Maya closed her eyes, speaking slow and out of breath the big gulps of liquid she had just taken down. “You’re damn right, get your pretty ass in the car before I bring out the real hard stuff.” Maya had such a straight face, Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, and reply, “You’re cute, and about as intimidating as a butterfly stuck in pink candy floss, but alright.”

Y/N took the keys from Maya’s hand as she put her shoes on, standing in the doorway, with the key in the lock, ready to leave the stillness of her apartment for the weekend.

If she only knew.

Driving in London is a nightmare come to life. However, with enough pep talk and hurrahs from Maya, they finally made it to the outskirts of the city and made their way to the villa by the lake. And the house was…well it was huge.

Y/N parked beside the big timber house, looking out over the lake and the open-air party-area filled with tables, little gazeboes, a bar and string lights. They could hear the music blasting while they drove through the wooded area to get them to the house, high treetops decorating the sky and creating a perfect watercolour painting on the reflection of the lake.

Loud voices were heard from the other side of the house as they rounded up their things from the car and stepped inside. They definitely weren’t the first ones to arrive, and still, it would seem that the house was filled to the brim with people of different ages, genders and looks.

“Should we just find ourselves a room and lock us up in there?” Y/N said quietly to Maya without letting her gaze wander from the different people in the house. Maya rolled her eyes, the drink she had gulped down at Y/N’s apartment working in her system. Maya turned to look Y/N straight in the eye, with a stoney face. “Absolutely not. I’m not having another one of those nights, you’re going to drink, dance, have fun, and find a potential boyfriend. We’re done sitting inside drinking wine and whining about never finding prince charming. Done.” Ouch. Maya was maybe a little too honest with her feelings sometimes, but Y/N also knew that the looks and the shaming she was receiving was fully real and probably needed to give her a little kick.

Y/N let out a dramatic, fake sigh, “Fineeeee, but only you get me a shot in the next 7 minutes.” Maya smirked. “Well, lady, if that isn’t my specialty, what do you fancy?”

They walked into the crowd of people, arms linked together, snickering and looking around the crowd for something, or someone interesting.

Y/N was just going to steer them towards the outside bar area, eyes zeroed in on the target, when someone crashed harshly into her shoulder. “HEEY!” Maya yelled immediately when she realized what had went down.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, I really didn’t think I had that much to drink, I’m so so sorry” A deeper, slow British accent sounded behind her. Y/N didn’t even bother to look at him, just put on a smile despite her now aching shoulder. “It’s alright, don’t worry about it, happens now and then. I actually enjoy hockey-tackling when I’m drunk so be on the lookout for when I’ve had a few shots later tonight.” Y/N said, finally meeting eyes with the force that crashed into her. A belly laughter erupted from a man, she realized. “I’ll be sure to be on the lookout, but I’ll make sure to stay out of the way just in case. What’s your name, hockey-fiend?” He said between chuckles, recovering from the laugh he let out. This was…an interesting conversation to say the least. Most people, when faced with Y/N’s witty commentary would back off immediately and just think she’s an incredibly strange person, but not him. “It’s Y/N.” She said plainly, a smirk on her glossy lips with her arm stretched out, hand for him to take. “Well, Y/N, I’m Harry. I’ll be on the lookout, let me know if you need me to be your punching bag.” He said, and he smiled. Y/N really wasn’t that bothered with men and their antics, but when Harry smiled, she true to god almost threw up. That smile was infections, it made her warm and cold at the same time, a shiver running down her back when he let go of her hand. And then he walked off, smile still sitting on his face.

Maya had been surprisingly quiet, her mouth agape when Y/N finally gained consciousness again and looked at her. “Do you realize who you just fucking tackled?” Maya whisper-screamed in Y/N’s face. Y/N knew he was familiar, she knew she had seen him somewhere, not quite being able to place him. Maybe he had been at another one of these parties. “Y/N, you just flirted with Harry fucking Styles, and guess what? You’re going to charm his goddamn pants off tonight, you’re going to hockey tackle him at least twice more and he’s going to like it.”

Well, Shit. A flush immediately settled over Y/N’s face. Did she just? There’s absolutely no way. She didn’t even mean to sound flirty, that had to be one of the most embarrassing experiences of her life. Y/N almost thinks it was good that he was famous, because he had to have so many interactions, that her embarrassing flirting and almost-tackle to the floor might just fade into the background.

“I can’t believe I fucking said that to Harry Styles, now I really have to have a shot. Or dig myself into a hole, that must be in like, the top 3 worst things I’ve ever done.” Y/N sighed, hands covering her face to hide her blushing skin. “How is he even here? Does Eli know him? Or Melwin? I’m going to lose my mind.” Y/N continued, sinking deeper into her hole of embarrassment, desperately needing to dig her way out of it. Luckily, Maya was there to drag her out of this, as usual. “Are you being for real? You understand that he flirted back, right? Hockey-fiend, my ass, let’s get drinking and I’ll snoop around for some more information about him. You’re getting laid with Harry Styles tonight, I’m fucking calling it.” Maya said, self-assured, and grabbed Y/Ns arm to head towards to bar. It was indeed time for a drink. Och seven.

It was slightly later in the evening. The sky wasn’t quite dark yet, but the string lights hanging above the outside area of the villa was giving the whole evening a much cozier feel, despite people being drunk off their asses. Y/N had was walking away from the crowd, knowing she needed a breather. Maybe a cigarette. She didn’t usually smoke, however at parties, she’d like to have one here and there. And it was a perfect excuse to get away for a moment. She could feel the alcohol in her system, but she wasn’t quite drunk, at least not yet.

As she looked around the crowd of people to find a way out, she caught his eyes again. Harry. It looked like he was standing in a circle with who she’s guessing was his friends, but the moment they made eye contact, none of them looked away. He smiled with those insanely sweet dimples, giving her a nod and then got dragged back into the conversation once more. Y/N smiled. Maybe she didn’t mess up as bad as she thought.

Y/N was sneaking away from the crowd for a moment and went down to the lake close by the house. And even though it was close enough that she could still hear the yelling, loud voices from the bar, and the music blasting lake, coming down to the still water gave her a sense of tranquillity. Still buzzing from the drinks she had ingested, she smiled to herself, like you do, and sat down in the grass by the lake.

She pulled out one of her cigarettes and lit it up. Deep strokes were inhaled and exhaled as the nicotine from the cigarette made her calm out to her fingertips.

“See, I didn’t take you as a smoker.” She heard a voice behind her. She knew it was him without even looking back, the deep, sultry voice and slight northern british accent.

“Well if you knew me, you’d know I’m not a smoker, guess you’ve got a lot to learn.” Y/N replied cheekily as he sat down beside her. Y/N hadn’t looked at him yet, he did make her nervous, for sure, her stomach churning and even though he was sat next to her, at least 20 centimetres away, it was like she could feel the heat from his body from where she was sitting. She finally decided to look up at him, eyes sparkling from the reflection of the lake and hair tousled in an annoyingly good-looking way, She drew her hand up, wordlessly offering him a drag from her cigarette. Maybe she was going to be brave today. “I’m no smoker either.” He said, and in the middle of the sentence reaching up and takin the cigarette she offered, smiling at her. “Hmm, I guess there’s a lot I don’t know about you, either.” She said, pulling her knees up and resting her arms overtop. She chuckled. “Want to play 20 questions?” She continued, laughing at her youthful wording. He laughed, handing her cigarette back, “Ask away, love.”

Y/N had no idea how long they had been sitting at the lake. It could’ve been a few minutes, or hours. They asked each other ridiculous questions, answers becoming even more strange and somehow deep and more meaningful by the minute. Sometimes a scilence fell over them, thinking about what to answer the other, but it was never that awkward feeling, he was just so easy. Patient, kind, and teasing, but in the most loving way a person could be. “What does it matter if I scrunch or fold the toilet paper?” Harry asked her, laughter erupting from him, shaking his whole body. Y/N was acting offended but smiling big as she shook her head. “I feel like it says a lot about a person! And from what I’m gathering you’re a scruncher.” She said, looking at him with an accusatory look. He raised his hand as if he’s surrendering. “Alright, alright.”

Harry felt free talking to her. She was so unbothered and funny, yet still had this bottomless depth of a personality.

Harry was the type of person to fall in love quickly, he knew this. It was also an issue, because in this situation, he already knew he was in deep shit looking at her curls falling from her head to her eyes scrunching up when she smiled. He was so fucked. Y/N on the other hand, was almost surprised that she managed to keep her cool talking to him. She could tell his eyes lingered on her face a little bit longer than necessary, and how his body language had opened up to her, almost matching hers. Y/N however, wasn’t one to fall in love quickly or without rhyme or reason. She knew that falling in love would take hard work, dedication from both people and most of all, attraction. So, the feeling of her chest feeling tight when Harry laughed at her stupid comments, or how her stomach churned when their eyes met was a foreign, and new feeling to her. Was this how it was supposed to feel like the whole time? Maybe she just hadn’t found her person.

Suddenly Y/N stood up. Eyeing the lake and then looking at Harry. He knew exactly what she meant. “You can’t be serious. It’s the beginning of may, it’s going to be freezing.” He looked at her, face challenging and unserious. “Oh I’m fully serious, watch me:” Y/N replied, tugging her top over her had and pulling down her trousers, leaving her in just her underwear as she ran towards the lake and clumsily jumped in. Harry instantly looked away from her body, keeping his eyes on her face as she ripped the clothes off her body, the gentleman he was.

She was so free. And Harry hadn’t felt like that in years. As she emerged from the water, her whole body till in the water, she said, “Are you coming, or?” Dragging out her R’s as to tease him slightly.

And it was almost like he couldn’t protest as to what his body did next. He stood up and started pulling off his shoes, along with his other clothes. “Shit. I can’t even believe this.” He said quietly to himself as he focused on not toppling over from the previous alcohol he had ingested.

Y/N swam out into the depths of the water as she saw him coming into the water after her. A constant smile on his pink lips, his cheeks aching from all the laughs she had given him, he swam up behind her, diving into the water and grabbing her ankle as she tried to fight him back.

They splashed at eachother, swam, and laughed without a care in the world. Without a care that this huge party was going on just 50 metres away from them; they were in their own little bubble.

They were out of breath by now, lips turning blue in the chilly May temperature. Harry was shivering from the cold, but honestly, he could barely feel the biting water that surrounding him when he looked at her. Her now et hair perfectly slicked against her head and eyes gleaming, but he could tell that she was shivering as well.

She swam up to him, deciding to be brave, embracing the fire in her chest and the confidence from the alcohol and his loving gazes. She wrapped her legs around his hips in the water, arms around his neck as she scratched his baby hairs at the nape of his neck. She could feel his whole body tighten up as he clasped his arms around her middle. They were face to face in the water, close, close. Breaths heaving and cold, blue lips smiling. She finally had his eyes looking at hers. “Is this alright?” Harry asked, almost shyly, a furrow in his brow as if it wasn’t her who came up to him and wrapped herself around his body. She nodded. “You haven’t looked at my body even once.” She said calmly, forehead leaning against his, eyes still set on his.

He chuckled. “I..I didn’t want to without it being okay with you.” The confident and self-assured Harry she had seen earlier almost completely gone as he grabbed her closer, bringing her so that her body was flush against his. “You’re sweet. But if I remember correctly I was the one who pulled all my clothes off in front of you and dragged you into the water. I want you to look at me.” She replied to him, giving the back of his neck a scratch with her nails. She could feel the hairs on his arms standing up from goosebumps, but she couldn’t tell if it was her doing or if it was the cold water. He broke their eye contact and looked down, his forehead nudging her nose. Harry let a puff of air escape his lungs, “I’m in so much trouble with you.” Y/N smiled at his comment, and he looked up at her again, foreheads touching once again. Harry’s hand came up to touch her cheek, and she leaned into his hand, placing a gentle kiss on his palm. If this was in any other dimension, Y/N was sure she could see hearts in his eyes as he looked at her lips touching his palm. Y/N writhed in his arms, cold lips like magnets, wanting to button together as if the universe had them made for each other. Neither Y/N or Harry knows how long this silent dreamstate they were in lasted, switching breaths and desperately wanting to get closer. “Can i kiss you?” Harry whispered, breaking the silence between them. And before Harry could even listen for an answer from her, their lips met in a mix of warmth, magic, and desperation. Harry let a moan slip out when their lips finally touched. This was the feeling he had been chasing ever since he almost knocked her to the ground earlier in the day. The tense desperation building between them ever since they sat down at the lake and ever since he had laid eyes on her. It was her, it was all her on his mind, Harry felt like he could go crazy, just by having her lips touching his. Their kiss continued, hands touching and grabbing at their sides, hair and cheeks. As they broke their kiss they didn’t dare to speak. It felt like all of their manners and etiquette had been drained from them, letting their nature take over in overwhelmingly good kisses. “I hate to do this, but I think my toes are about to fall off of my body.” Harry whispered to her, his confidence wittiness from the start, back in his voice. Y/N gave him a “Mhm.” As he started to move them to the shoreline, limbs still tangled and frozen to each other’s bodies.

Harry put Y/N down as they reached the grass, and man, now without her body clinging to his, he could really feel the cold. He grabbed his coat that was still laying on the grass, draping it over Y/N’s shoulders. The rest of their clothes and shoes as well as the now almost empty pack of cigarettes, he scooped up in his arms. “C’mon.” He smiled to her, giving her a short kiss to her lips, leading the way around the house and to the room he was staying in for the night. She looked at him with pure adoration and love-sickness at this point, and followed along.

It was almost 3am at this point, and the party out in the garden was still in full swing, Y/N thought to herself that if she knew her friends right, they party was just now starting, and they would keep going until at least 5am, waiting for the sun to start rising.

It was Y/N’s turn to feel shy as Harry had his arm in the small of her back, letting her into his room. He immediately dropped their clothes and belongings on the floor of the hallway and dragged her with him to the bathroom. They were both shaking from the cold as Harry’s icy fingers turned on the shower and pulled her in with him, both still in their underwear. “God, I can’t even feel the bottom half of my body. Remind me to never do that again, even if it is to impress a cute boy.” Y/N stuttered out as they waited for the water to turn hot. She didn’t look at him, her eyes focusing on the water, waiting for the steam to engulf her. However, if she had looked at him, she would see the same love-sick eyes and syrupy sweet smile spreading on his features. “No more impressing cute boys, I’ll get too jealous, if I’m honest.” He said as he pulled her in under the water, their bodies immediately relaxing under the heat of the water, skin turning bright red from the change in temperature.

Their lips found each other once again, in the warm water of Harry’s shower. Hands moving to touch wherever they could. “Will you stay here with me tonight?” Harry let out between kisses.

Y/N did a crash-analysis in her head the moment he asked her. Was he looking for just a one-time thing? He was famous after all, maybe this was just how he brought home the girl’s he’d like to sleep with. No, she could swear there was something in his eyes that wasn’t just lust and looking for someone to stick his dick into, this was something else. She decided to be brave, maybe even test him, if you will.

She nodded to his question, “Yes.”

As they got out of the shower, Harry offered her some warm clothes from his suitcase. She climbed into the fluffy cloud of a bed, freshly washed with crisp white linen that made her almost let out a moan from how good it felt. She put herself in the middle of the bed, and turned to the window, closing her eyes for a moment, smiling for herself as she tried to comprehend all that happened this evening.

Harry joined her in bed, also in a fresh pair of underwear and sweats, chest bare as still flushed red from their shower. “Can I lay next to you?” Harry let out as he lifted the duvet, always asking her for permission. He really was the most careful and caring person, she was realizing. And he she felt almost dumb to have even considered that the chemistry they had was to be excused as a simple hook-up at a party. She didn’t answer him, but he helped him raise the duvet further and reached her arms out for him as an invitation. He looked at her as he got in right next to her, as their limbs once again tangled together for further connection and closeness.

And they talked, they continued talking through the night, playing with fingers, listening and laughing at anecdotes, jokes and facts.

Harry could tell her eyes was starting to droop as her speech got quieter and more slurred, words getting caught in her lips on their way out. “Shhhh,” Harry hushed her in the middle of the sentence. “Sleep and we’ll talk more in the morning; I’m not letting you out of that cliffhanger that easily though.” He continued with fondness in his voice, kissing her cheek and forehead, Y/N relaxing in his arms. Y/N let out a happy sigh of contentment as she cuddled closer to Harry’s chest, face fully burrowed into his neck and breathing in his natural scent. She was already drifting off though, there was nothing stopping her now.

They both fell asleep that night in each other’s arms, engrossed in what would bloom to become the most beautiful, important relationship they had ever had. But at that point, bundled up in each other’s arms and peacefully resting through to the late morning - they just didn’t know yet.

[muiitoloko]

Oh my god I just finished watching Nobel son like 20 minutes ago and i thought to myself I NEED a fic that has the reader as a superhero AND YOU HAVE IT live saver omg

Title: Web of Desperation.

Summary: Eli's attempt at bravery against the Green Goblin nearly ends in disaster, until Spider-Man steps in to save him.

Pairing: Eli Michaelson × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Fighting, chaos, anger.

Author's Notes: I’m honestly blown away that you guys liked the idea so much! When I started this, I didn’t really plan on continuing—it was just a way to clear my head. But I’m thrilled that some of you enjoyed it! Now, you’ll just have to wait a few more centuries for the next chapter. 😅 Thanks for sticking around!

First and Second part here.

Also read on Ao3

Eli swore as he sat in the traffic jam, drumming his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. He glanced at his watch, realizing he was going to be late for his lecture at the university. The lines of cars stretched as far as the eye could see, barely inching forward.

"What the hell is causing this?" he muttered under his breath, his frustration mounting. He noticed people getting out of their cars, craning their necks to see what was happening. With a resigned sigh, Eli did the same, stepping out of his car and wondering what fresh hell was unfolding.

The scene was chaotic. People were pointing and shouting, their faces twisted with fear and confusion. Eli pushed his way through the crowd, his curiosity piqued despite his irritation. As he reached the front of the mass of people, he saw the cause of the commotion.

Hovering above the street was a figure clad in a dark green, armored suit, a grotesque mask with a manic grin covering his face. The figure cackled maniacally, riding on a glider that emitted a low, sinister hum. Eli's blood ran cold as he recognized the villain from news reports: the Green Goblin.

"Good morning, citizens of New York!" the Green Goblin's voice boomed through the street, dripping with mockery and malevolence. "I hope you're all having a fantastic day because I plan to make it a memorable one!"

The Goblin raised his hand, revealing a pumpkin-shaped bomb. He tossed it into the crowd, sending people scattering in terror. Eli's instincts kicked in, and he dove to the side, narrowly avoiding the explosion that followed. The blast rocked the street, leaving a crater where the bomb had landed.

Eli scrambled to his feet, his mind racing. He needed to find cover, to get away from this madman. He darted into a nearby alley, his heart pounding in his chest. He could hear the Green Goblin's deranged laughter echoing through the street, punctuated by the screams of frightened civilians.

Peering around the corner, Eli saw the Green Goblin swoop down, grabbing a woman by her hair and lifting her into the air. "Let's see if anyone here can play hero," the Goblin sneered, dangling the woman over the edge of his glider.

Eli's mind raced with anger and fear. He was no hero, but he couldn't just stand by and watch this madness unfold. He glanced around, spotting a length of pipe lying among the debris. He grabbed it, his knuckles white with tension.

"Hey, Goblin!" he shouted, stepping out into the open. "Why don't you pick on someone your own size?"

The Green Goblin's head snapped around, his eyes narrowing behind the mask. He dropped the woman unceremoniously onto the rooftop below and turned his attention to Eli.

"And who might you be?" the Goblin taunted, his glider drifting closer. "A brave little lamb come to the slaughter?"

Eli's grip on the pipe tightened, his heart pounding in his chest. Why did he get himself into this? Why didn't he just run for his life and let the others fend for themselves? Eli cursed himself, but his pride wouldn't let him back down now. He did what he did best: act arrogant and belittle others.

"Listen here, you tin-can reject from a Halloween store," Eli snarled, trying to mask his fear with bravado. "Why don't you take your second-rate theatrics somewhere else? Or are you too scared to face someone with an IQ above room temperature?"

The Green Goblin's eyes flashed with rage. "You dare mock me, you insignificant worm? I'll crush you like the insect you are!"

Goblin advanced towards Eli on his glider, the mechanical wings slicing through the air with a menacing hum. Eli’s grip on the pipe faltered, and he let go in surprise as Goblin's clawed hand shot out, seizing him by the throat. The cold metal pressed into Eli's skin, and he gasped as he was hoisted into the air.

"Not so arrogant now, are we?" the Goblin jeered, his voice a venomous hiss. Eli clawed at Goblin's arm, his eyes wide with fear as the ground fell away beneath him. They soared higher and higher, the city shrinking below, until the skyscrapers seemed like mere toys.

"Please, wait! Let's talk about this," Eli stammered, desperation clear in his voice. "You don't want to do this. You're a genius, a real visionary!"

Goblin's laughter was a dark, grating sound. "Flattery won't save you," he sneered. "But it's amusing to see you beg."

Without warning, Goblin released his grip. Eli's scream tore through the air as he plummeted, the wind whipping past him in a dizzying rush. Panic clawed at his mind, and he braced for the impact that would surely be his end.

Just as Eli was about to meet the ground, a firm grip caught him, halting his fall. The air was knocked out of his lungs, and he clung desperately to his savior. Eli's heart raced as he looked up, squinting against the sunlight.

"Looks like I caught something more annoying than a cat in a tree," quipped Spider-Man, his tone light and teasing. He swung effortlessly through the air, his web shooters propelling them both to safety.

Eli's relief was quickly replaced by fury. "You!" he spat, recognizing the red and blue suit. "I didn't ask for your help!"

"Well, excuse me for saving your life," Spider-Man shot back, a smirk evident behind his mask. "Next time, I'll let you become a street pancake."

Spider-Man landed gracefully on a nearby rooftop, setting Eli down with a flourish. "There you go, safe and sound. Try not to get into any more trouble, okay, Professor Michaelson?"

Eli's face twisted in rage as he glared at the masked hero. "I don't need your pity," he snarled. "And I certainly don't need you to play the hero for me."

Spider-Man shrugged, unfazed by Eli's outburst. "Hey, just doing my job. But seriously, maybe leave the hero stuff to the professionals. You’re better suited to scaring undergrads with pop quizzes."

Eli's fists clenched, his pride burning at the indignity of it all. How dare Spider-Man save him? How dare he humiliate him in front of everyone?

He stared after the masked hero, watching as Spider-Man launched himself with a web to go deal with the Green Goblin. Something Spider-Man had said lingered in Eli's mind. Wait, how did Spider-Man know that Eli was a professor? Eli opened his mouth to shout after him, running to the edge of the rooftop.

"Hey, Spider-Man!" he called out, his voice tinged with frustration. "How did you know I was a teacher?"

But Spider-Man was already swinging through the air, ignoring Eli's question as he pursued the Green Goblin. Eli's anger boiled over. He shouted after Spider-Man again, his voice echoing through the city streets.

"Come back here! I'm not done with you!"

Spider-Man paid no heed, his attention focused on the chaotic scene below where the Green Goblin continued to wreak havoc. Eli watched, seething, as Spider-Man closed in on the villain, deftly dodging the Goblin's attacks with acrobatic finesse.

The Green Goblin threw another pumpkin bomb, and Spider-Man quickly webbed it up, tossing it skyward where it exploded harmlessly. The Goblin screeched in frustration, his glider dipping and weaving erratically as he tried to shake Spider-Man off his tail.

Eli's anger turned to a mix of fear and awe as he watched the battle unfold. He could see the Green Goblin's eyes glowing with madness, his laughter echoing through the city. It was like a scene from a nightmare, the kind of chaos that could only exist in a world where supervillains and heroes clashed in the sky.

Suddenly, the Goblin's glider malfunctioned, sputtering and losing altitude. He careened towards the rooftop where Eli stood, and without thinking, Eli dove out of the way, barely avoiding the crashing glider. The impact sent a shockwave through the building, shaking the very foundations.

Eli scrambled to his feet, his heart pounding. He saw the Green Goblin rising from the wreckage, his mask cracked but his malevolent grin intact. The villain's eyes locked onto Eli, and a chill ran down his spine.

"Ah, the brave insect," the Goblin sneered, advancing towards him. "You thought you could challenge me? Pathetic."

Eli backed away, his mind racing. He had to get out of here, but there was nowhere to run. The Goblin raised his arm, a menacing blade extending from his gauntlet, and Eli's life flashed before his eyes.

"Not so fast, Gobby!" Spider-Man's voice rang out, and Eli turned to see the hero swinging in at the last moment, kicking the Green Goblin square in the chest and sending him flying backward.

Spider-Man landed in front of Eli, his stance protective. "You okay, Professor?" he quipped, glancing over his shoulder. "Maybe next time, stick to grading papers and leave the bad guys to me."

Eli's pride flared up again. "I don't need your help, Spider-Man," he snapped, though his voice trembled with the remnants of fear. "I can handle myself."

"Yeah, you were doing a bang-up job of it," Spider-Man shot back, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a lunatic to deal with."

Spider-Man turned his attention back to the Green Goblin, who was already getting back on his feet, ready for another round. The two clashed again, trading blows and quips as they danced through the ruins of the rooftop.

Eli watched, a mix of horror and fascination playing across his face. He couldn't deny the skill and bravery Spider-Man displayed, even as he resented the hero's presence. Despite his hatred for the masked vigilante, a small part of him was grudgingly impressed.

The Green Goblin let out an angry scream, realizing he was not going to win this battle. Desperation flashed in his eyes as he grabbed a pumpkin bomb from the wreckage of his glider. With a wild swing, he hurled the bomb, missing Spider-Man by a mile. But Spider-Man quickly realized the bomb's true target: a nearby news helicopter, hovering to film the fight.

As the bomb struck the helicopter's tail, the aircraft spun wildly, its balance lost. Spider-Man's eyes widened in horror as the helicopter spiraled out of control, descending rapidly toward the ground.

"Not today, Gobby!" Spider-Man shouted, leaping into action.

The Green Goblin seized the opportunity to flee, jumping from the building and disappearing into the cityscape below. But Spider-Man had no time to worry about the escaping villain; the people in the helicopter needed him.

He swung into the air, webs shooting out with precision. "I always wanted to be on the news, but this is ridiculous!" he quipped, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere as he approached the helicopter.

Spider-Man landed on the helicopter's skidding tail, the wind from the rotors whipping around him. He shot web after web, anchoring the aircraft to the nearby buildings, trying to slow its descent. "Hold on tight, folks! Spidey Airlines is here for a safe, but bumpy landing!"

The pilots and the reporter inside the helicopter were pale with fear, clutching their seats as Spider-Man fought to stabilize the aircraft. His muscles strained as he pulled against the force of gravity, his webs stretching but holding firm.

"Just another day in the life," Spider-Man muttered to himself, shooting another web to the rooftop of a nearby skyscraper. The helicopter's descent slowed, but it was still spinning out of control.

"Okay, new plan," Spider-Man said, his mind racing. He leapt to the front of the helicopter, gripping the nose tightly. "Time to play tug-of-war with gravity!"

Using every ounce of his strength, Spider-Man pulled the helicopter's nose upward, trying to level it out. The aircraft wobbled precariously but began to steady. He then shot more webs to nearby buildings, creating a complex web network to catch the helicopter.

"Come on, baby, you can do this," he grunted, his muscles burning with effort. "I've got you!"

Finally, the helicopter's spinning stopped, and it hovered, tangled in Spider-Man's webbing. The crowd below erupted in cheers as the pilots regained control, safely lowering the helicopter to the ground.

Spider-Man landed lightly on the street, his chest heaving from the exertion. He turned to the crowd, giving a mock bow. "And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you catch a helicopter!"

The pilots and the reporter emerged, visibly shaken but unharmed. They approached Spider-Man, gratitude shining in their eyes. "Thank you, Spider-Man. You saved our lives."

"Just doing my job," Spider-Man replied with a grin.

Someone then shouted for Spider-Man, and you turned around to see Eli running up to you, looking a little out of breath. As he reached you, his face was a mix of frustration and curiosity.

"Spider, wait!" he called out, his voice tinged with urgency. "How the hell did you know I was a teacher?"

You froze for a split second, feeling the weight of his question. Your mind raced, trying to come up with a plausible explanation. Quickly, you responded, your voice steady but a bit nervous. "I read a lot of newspapers, Professor Michaelson. I saw that you won the Nobel Prize, so I did some research about it."

Eli's expression shifted from suspicion to surprise, his eyes widening slightly. "Research, huh?" he muttered, clearly caught off guard.

Sensing the opportunity, you launched a web to a nearby building. "Yep, just a curious web-slinger," you quipped, giving him a quick salute. "Stay safe, Professor."

As you swung away, a crowd began to gather, cheering and clapping for you. "We love you, Spider-Man!" they shouted, their voices filled with admiration and relief.

The police, firefighters, and paramedics arrived on the scene, adding to the commotion. You knew it was your cue to leave before anyone else could ask more questions. You launched another web, swinging gracefully into the air as the crowd's applause followed you.

Meanwhile, away from the chaos, the Green Goblin landed on the balcony of his mansion. He dismounted his damaged glider with a heavy sigh, exhaustion evident in his posture. The grand balcony doors opened to his opulent bedroom, the heavy curtains fluttering in the breeze. As he entered, he tore off his grotesque mask and flung it aside, the metallic clank echoing through the room.

He approached the large, ornate mirror hanging on the wall and stared at his reflection, his eyes dark and weary. He rubbed his face, the reality of his dual life pressing heavily on his shoulders. "Why do we do this?" he muttered to himself, his voice a mixture of exhaustion and despair. "What's the point if we can't even get rid of that damn meddling spider?"

The Green Goblin's reflection seemed to shift, contorting into an image of pure rage. His eyes darkened, and a sinister grin spread across his face as the Goblin within him took over.

"Failure is not an option," the Goblin hissed, his tone dripping with venom. "We will destroy Spider-Man, one way or another. He won't stand in our way forever."

The man in the mirror clenched his fists, his anger simmering just below the surface. "We'll find your weakness, Spider-Man," he vowed. "And when we do, you will beg for mercy. I won't fail."

The reflection seemed to respond, its eyes gleaming with malice. "You better not, Shahbandar. We can't afford any more failures."

The man, now revealed as Lionel Shahbandar, turned away from the mirror, his jaw set with determination. "I won't fail," he vowed quietly. "Next time, Spider-Man won't be so lucky."

He paced the room, the tension in his body palpable. The weight of his ambitions and the constant pressure of his villainous alter ego were taking their toll. His mind raced, plotting his next move, even as doubts gnawed at the edges of his thoughts.

"Goblin," he muttered, almost as if addressing his darker self, "we need a new plan. Something that will finally put an end to that meddling spider once and for all."

As he continued to strategize, the mask of the Green Goblin lay discarded on the floor, a symbol of the madness and chaos that defined his other life. The mansion's opulence contrasted sharply with the turmoil within its walls, a stark reminder of the duality that plagued Lionel Shahbandar.

Back in the city, you swung through the air, the adrenaline of the day's events still coursing through your veins. As Spider-Man, you reveled in the freedom of the sky, the wind rushing past you as you zipped from building to building. The cheers of the crowd were a distant memory now, replaced by the familiar hum of the city below.

"Another day, another psycho with a bomb," you muttered to yourself, shaking your head at the absurdity of it all. "Seriously, do these guys ever take a day off?"

As you swung past a skyscraper, you spotted your reflection in the glass. The familiar red and blue suit clung to your form, a second skin that hid your true identity from the world. No one knew that behind the mask, Spider-Man was a woman. It was a secret you guarded fiercely, knowing that it added an extra layer of protection to your double life.

"At least the Green Goblin's out of commission for now," you mused, your thoughts drifting back to the fight. "But something tells me he won't stay down for long."

You landed gracefully on a rooftop, taking a moment to catch your breath. The city stretched out before you, a sprawling landscape of lights and shadows. It was a beautiful sight, one that reminded you why you did what you did.

"Alright, time to get back to class," you muttered, glancing at the time. "Better make up a good excuse."

[rrrawrf-writes]

stuff i wrote at work 15

nano? what nano?

“Oh,” Sonya said, heaving a massive sigh of relief as Eli skidded around the corner. “I thought you'd forgotten me.”

“Not in a million years,” Eli promised, over the fire alarm. Nothing was burning - yet - but cleaning staff were in the building overnight, and Eli had no better ideas on how to get them out. “Do you, uh -”

“This thing is slower than molasses, Eli, yes, I want you to pick me up,” Sonya snapped. She gotten down the hallway, at least, and her wheelchair really wasn't slow as all that, but it still wasn't quick enough. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness, but this is the one time you're allowed to pick me up without permission.”

He lifted her out of her chair while she spoke;  getting settled while Eli wore his two shoulder holsters was a little uncomfortable, but Sonya vastly preferred not dying. She wrapped her arm around his shoulders, as Eli started for the stairs.

They made it down a few flights, before the door on the landing below them slammed open, and a pair of gun-toting people spilled out.

Eli swore. Sonya swatted him with the stump of her left arm. “Language.”

The people opened fire; Eli turned his back, sliding Sonya into his arms and changing from flesh to metal. “Good thing there's so little of me left,” Sonya observed dryly, “there's nothing they can really hit like this.”

Eli grunted as a bullet hit his shoulder and did absolutely nothing. “I dunno, almost everything that's left of you’s center mass, don't you think it'd make it easier?”

Sonya shifted around in his grip; Eli compensated as he thundered back up the stairs, supporting her back as she finagled one of the pistols from under his jacket. They turned a corner, giving a brief respite from the gunfire, and Sonya used the chance to pull herself up, so that she could see and reach over Eli's shoulder.

“Sonya,” Eli panted, “You're scaring me.”

“Just keep running, dearheart.” She stabilized her hand with the crook of her shortened arm, and when their pursuers caught reappeared, she shot at them.

The first one swore and ducked back behind the corner. Eli complained, “Really? Right in my ear?”

“Like you aren't already half-deaf by now,” Sonya retorted, though her ears rang, as well. She hadn't been shooting enough. She glanced over when she felt Eli slow at the next landing, heading for the door; instead, she said, “No, go all the way up to the roof.”

“How come?” he said, but obeyed her anyway and started up the next set of stairs. Aiming carefully, Sonya shot twice at the two people following them, though they were much warier now.

“They'll have longer to follow us down,” Sonya said, grinning.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

“Not nearly enough, sweetheart.”

They barrelled up the rest of the stairs, though it soon became apparent that Eli was flagging. He'd told her before that moving around as fully metal was more tiring than not, and on top of that, he was carrying Sonya upstairs. But Sonya kept up her cover fire, and Eli kept using his body to shield her, and finally they burst out onto the rooftop. Eli sucked in gulps of fresh air, and Sonya felt the tattooed skin at his neck turn from titanium to flesh and blood.

“You're doing amazing, sweetie,” Sonya assured him. Eli moved across the roof, and jumped when he heard the door slam open again. He turned back to metal at the same time Sonya shot the first man through the door in the leg.

“Ha!” she shouted, and pulled the trigger again - and nothing. Instead, she threw the empty gun at the second person, clocking him in the face, and yelled triumphantly, “Yeet!”

“What the hell is ‘yeet’?” Eli said. He'd reached the edge of the rooftop; before Sonya could admit that she really had no idea, she heard it from one of her employees, Eli threw himself off the roof.

He twisted around, curling his body around Sonya's and putting his back to the ground. When they impacted, Sonya felt it in every bone in her body.

She must have blacked out for a second, because the next thing she knew, they were moving again. “Oh, geez, Eli,” Sonya moaned; he was cradling her in his arms again, but they were warm and soft now.

She peeked around him, and her eyebrows shot up at the size of the crater they'd left behind in the parking lot. “Nice one.”

“You okay?” Eli ducked and weaved around cars, but it was dark enough that Sonya doubted the people on the roof would be able to hit them even if they tried. When Sonya squirmed a little, she sucked in a painful breath.

“Ribs, I think,” she groaned. She wiggled the stumps of her legs next, flinched, and added apologetically, “Maybe my hip.”

Eli swore softly. “I'm so sorry, Sonya,” he said, carrying her around a dark corner of the next building over. There, he stopped, slumped against the wall, and slid to the ground. Sonya clenched her eyes and her fist shut against the pain.

“No,” she said, and opened her eyes again to smile up at Eli. She reached up and cradled her hand against his cheek. “You saved my life, Sasha, don't apologize.”

He gave her a tired smile, then leaned his head back against the wall. After a few more deep breaths, he asked, “Who were those people, anyway?”

Sonya snuggled further into his chest. “Oh, nobody. Just my ex.”

[saberin]

Hanahaki pairing: nicomaki words: 1500+

Another wave of nausea hits.

She didn’t use to have these spells so often; her hands only turn cold before a public performance. She coughs into her cold hands and staggers a little, looking away from the rest of the members who are still practicing.

And her lone partner standing by the rail.

Umi’s periodic claps and shouts almost drowns out the noise in her head, overlapping her coughs. She still hears it anyway, and find her eyes trailing to Nico as always.

Maki coughs again, clearing her throat.

A small pink petal falls from her open palms the moment she removes her hands, and she watches it drift haphazardly in the spring breeze, directionless and carefree. Remnant of something awfully cursed.

“Are you okay Maki?” Nico shouts from the other end of the rooftop, right arm waving in a large arc. “You’re taking a long time over there!”

Her body reacts in a way she couldn’t deny, the burst of warmth within her chest seems to fuel the plant growth – she coughs up a few petals and looks at them with mild disgust.

“I’m fine!” Maki shouts back across the brown tiles, letting the cherry blossoms drift to the floor. She downs half a bottle of water, letting the cool water rush over her sore throat.

It shouldn’t be true. None of these are. Her? In love with Nico?

Absurd.

She isn’t sure when this started, but sometime before spring, petals started appearing all over the music room. Umi was the first to notice, and fussed over the occasional petals between scores.

“Cherry blossom at this time of the year?” Umi had asked quizzically, “It isn’t even spring yet.”

Maki only gave a shrug in return, knowing nothing better.

And now she does, except furious denial overpowers every single positive emotion she feels for Nico.

The tales Nozomi feeds them on a daily basis, of tarots and legends, stars and universe, myths and heroes, she had always taken them with a pinch of salt. Romance is nothing but the gossip topic of hormonal teenagers. Love is nothing but drama. To think that one’s fate lies in a single experience of love is preposterous.

There is no scientific explanation nor logic.

But the rest of the members had listened to Nozomi’s tale on Hanahaki byou attentively; Maki scoffed at the melodrama, the ludicrous fact that you could be so in love that it’s almost fatal. Plant growth? Because of love? She dismissed it with a roll of her eye, catching Nico doing the same.

Ridiculous, right? She rolled her eyes again. Nico’s grin only widened in response.

Perhaps this is her retribution for scoffing at the mere possibility of anything like that happening, or perhaps the universe just loves to prove Nozomi right.

Her world spins on another axis the moment Maki hears Nico outside the first-year classroom, never mind the fact that the senior was merely walking past and heading towards the canteen. It isn’t that difficult to figure out that the source of this trouble is the very same one that gives her headaches.

She struggles with denial.

On some days it gives her a petal or two, which she easily attributes it to the season. On other days she coughs up a little more, grateful that the music room is a safe sanctuary, and the only other occupant is awfully good at keeping secrets.

It only gets harder, for every note Maki plays there is only one person that’s truly on her mind. There is a kind of pink that drowns.

She coughs, splattering petals over the scores.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” Maki shouts back.

“Why you ungrateful-”

She struggles with anger. The potent feeling of dissatisfaction and rage. Why her? And why Nico?

“It would be better if you would just go away.” She lashes out, during practice. Eli pops a concerned look over and Umi stops clapping.

“If you want to partner with somebody else just say so!” Nico shouts back, biting back tears. “Why are you like this today?”

She bites her lips and drops a line.

“I need a break.”

She could vaguely remember how the very first petal came about. They were practicing in subunits, and she had walked in on the third years talking about graduation. There was a brief moment of silence as she registered the words exchanged, and she had stood still, stunned.

And then Nico grabbed her arm and pulled her close, forehead against hers, asking if she was alright.

The first petal came out in a small gasp.

The second time this happened, she was with her. Hands locked with each other in a struggle trying to win this physical fight. There was this uncanny yet familiar feeling of partnership the moment Nico laughed, destroying the mood completely and calling everything a truce.

“Why are you laughing?” She had gasped then, still in mild anger.

“You look like you’re constipated.” A familiar giggle, and the kind of smile so wide she could see the whites.

Her face burned, chest ached.

And then there was a small petal.

.

.

.

Then came more petals. A flurry of pink.

For when Nico praises her, her heart bursts with more emotions than she could describe and there is this feeling of warmth that engulfs her entire being. The mere thought of Nico brings this ache to her chest, before the petals arrive in a series of coughs.

Maki attributes it to the budding friendship they shared. Friends, that’s what they are. Nothing more and nothing less. And she has no intention to further deepen their relationship.

Perhaps this is what makes it so difficult.

The blood that scattered across the scores does not go unnoticed by Umi; the thorns growing are beginning to hurt. Her throat pricks with pain at times, making it difficult to swallow. She chokes, on the blood that gushes up, and on the petals that rushes forward.

She knows two endings to this story, one that erases every feeling she has, and another that speaks of death. And for some wicked reason, she isn’t willing to give this up yet. For the bursts of warmth makes her feel alive.

She struggles with acceptance.

Muse practice is really a curse more than a blessing, Maki thinks. She drops another petal on the piano, grateful for the solitude that music composing brings.

She skips out of practice for the second time that week.

Umi thinks it’s getting worse, these symptoms, these signs of love. Maki would have agreed, but the word love brings her to her knees. Surgical removal? Of these feelings?

She thinks about the times Nico made her smile, a trip down the memory lane. She thinks about her partner, whose arms she had locked with for the past few months. She thinks about their daily banter and feels something else stab her in the chest.

Would she be empty after?

Would she forget?

“It’s killing you.” Umi says softly, offering her handkerchief. She hits the keys on the piano gently in return.

“Not yet.” She replies. “Not yet.”

And now she wheezes a little, unable to hide.

Cherry blossom season is an excuse used too many times over, and Nico would have none of that again.

“It’s not normal.” Nico says, with fists clenched and frown on. “That’s not okay Maki. You’re sick.”

“I’m not.” Maki insists, making sure never to lock eyes with Nico. “I’m fine.”

“Look at me in the eye and tell me you are fine. Why are you saying this when you obviously-” The sentence cuts off, and she looks up to see Nico covering her mouth and eyes wide in fear.

A single petal drifts to the floor.

She barely manages a rueful smile before she hacks up blood. A small thorn pricks her palm but the physical pain provides little distraction. It probably never crossed her mind that Nico would have somebody else as well.

So much for partnership.

She coughs again, before slumping onto the music room floor. The windows are open and the invited wind blows the little colours away. She watches the Nico’s petal drift further and further, tugging her heartstrings as they go.

“Maki-”

“Nozomi got us.” Maki says, barely managing to keep up the smile.

There is another cough, this time from Nico. Her heart clenches at the familiar sound, of the respiratory system forcefully ejecting the petals out. The silence after kills, and with every tick of the clock the roots grow, she feels her lungs crushing and caving in.

“No.” Nico begins, shattering the quietness.

Maki looks away, willing for this interaction to end and for everything to be removed. She hears coughs, painful wheezes and feels her heart shatter.

“I’ve got you.”

She looks up to tears welling up behind the red, Nico’s hands letting go a flurry of red petals.

“What do you mean?” Maki chokes on the flowers welled up inside, hands grabbing onto the fabric of her uniform for dear life. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve got you.” Nico says, holding Maki’s hand in her own. She puts a single flower petal into the other palm. “For Hanahaki.”

[derieri]

Seven Days of Christmas

Leksi! I’m super mega extra majorly LATE! I am so sorry! Shame on me! I have reasons and excuses and whatever else, but that’s not the point. I hope you had a wonderful Christmas and a great New Year’s Eve, and I hope you will have a phenomenal 2018. Have 3,000 words of my happiest holiday wishes for you and yours (including all your fictional faves).             Love,                   Trinity  ♡ ♡ ♡

On the first day of Christmas, Secret Santa gave to me,             a very merry Christmas Leksi!

On the second day of Christmas, Secret Santa gave to me              two tradition-keepers              and a very merry Christmas to Leksi!

Elizabeth was at a loss. It was the deepest part of winter when the chilly weather outside made the shortest days of the year feel even shorter. Inside the home Elizabeth shared with Meliodas, the cold made it seem extra cozy, the firelight extra warm and the company of friends even more precious than usual. At least, it ought to have. But instead, the winter seemed to have crept inside the house as well and made its home in Merlin. Elizabeth glanced over at the girl curled up in a chair, a blanket wrapped around her as she paged through a book and radiated gloom.  She let a frown pull on the ends of her mouth. She had not wanted to pry – even if she was only a child, she deserved her own privacy, particularly since the destruction of Belialuin. But she did not know what else to do without discovering what was bothering her little sis-sis.

“Merlin,” Elizabeth said from the kitchen. Merlin glanced up from her book. “Merlin, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Yes, you do.” Her voice was gentle but firm. She had no intention of letting her slip away from explaining her doldrums again. “You’ve been down in the dumps for the last week or two. You are not ill. I want to help you feel better, but I can do nothing unless you tell me what is bothering you.”

Pregnant silence welled up between them. Merlin’s eyes did not twitch from their fixture on the corner of her book’s pages for several long moments. Elizabeth began to wonder whether she would tell her after all. Then, with a sigh of resignation, she closed the book and looked up, meeting her in the eyes.

“I am sad about Yule,” she said simply.

Elizabeth paused for a moment to rack her memories for anything about Yule. As hard as she tried to recall ever hearing of such a holiday, however, she came up empty-handed. This Yule, whatever it was, was not something that the goddess clan celebrated.

“I’m sorry, but I’ve never heard of Yule. Is it something you celebrated with your father?” Merlin nodded.

“It used to be that we decorated every building in the village with wreaths and candles. It was always so pretty. Then on the day of the winter solstice, everyone would make sweets. At dusk, they brought them to our house, and then the village celebrated together all night long because it is the longest night of the year,” she explained. Elizabeth felt her heart lanced with a pang of pity. No one would ever decorate the village of Belialuin again, not unless they felt inclined to wrap tinsel around scorched beams that crumbled to ash at a strong gust of wind. And that was if they felt inclined to continue the tradition at all – Merlin was the only survivor, and possibly the only person left who would celebrate Yule like this.

She put a thoughtful finger to her chin. Her eyes roamed around the room in silence as she surveyed all the beams and shelves and windows in her and Meliodas’ humble cottage home.

“What sorts of decorations would you like to do this year, Merlin?”

“Eh?” Merlin looked up from where her gaze had fallen once again, her eyes wide.

“I wanted to know what decorations you’d like to put up for Yule this year. We will not have very many decorations, unfortunately, as we will have to make do with what we can scrounge up from the forest, but I want to carry on the tradition with you.”

And so it was that they soon found themselves bundled into layers upon layers of down coats and cold-weather accessories, hands securely wrapped in mittens and boots laced on their feet. They waddled through the snow like fattened penguins. Slowly, but surely, the baskets on their arms filled with curious sticks and attractive cuts of holly and pine boughs, red winter berries and thorny brown pinecones. Merlin found brown and scarlet feathers caught in a bush. Elizabeth discovered a tiny, spunky flower poking through the leaf litter beneath a copse of sheltering branches.

They filled the house to bursting with their festive decor. Feathers and berries studded a beautiful wreath over the hearth, pine boughs braided together to make ropes that they wrapped around the backs of the kitchen chairs. They set candles on every open surface. Magic helped them fill the gaps of light and color that were left.

For Elizabeth, the most important and beautiful thing, however, was simply that she saw Merlin smile again.

On the third day of Christmas, Secret Santa gave to me              three festive sisters              two tradition-keepers              and a very merry Christmas to Leksi!

Elizabeth could all but taste the gingerbread. She sat up tall in her chair and took a deep breath of the scented air. It smelled exactly like Christmas should, with the tingle of spices entangled in the rich warmth of sugar and butter in the oven.

Her eyes shot wide at the sound of a clatter. She practically flew off her chair to rush over to Margaret pulling the gingerbread out of the oven’s heat. Elizabeth kept her distance – she wasn’t allowed to touch the oven or anything that came in and out of it, the castle baker had insisted. If she hurt herself he would never allow them to bake here again. So she obediently folded her hands ever-so-prim behind her back and grinned as she watched her elder sister pull on a pair of quilted oven mitts and reach into the heat.

The smell that before had merely floated in whiffs through the air now permeated Elizabeth’s nose. She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes, basking in it. Ooh, she was excited about the holiday! And, more immediately, she was excited about the gingerbread house.

Another clang told her that Margaret had closed the oven door, freeing her hands and body to move around as close to the gingerbread as she liked. She clapped her palms in her enthusiasm as she shuffled up right next to Margaret. She could still feel the warmth radiating off the pan as Margaret lifted each piece of the gingerbread on to the rack with her spatula.

“Hey Eli, Margaret!”

They both turned in surprise at the sound of another small voice shouting their names from the door. Elizabeth spotted her other sister Veronica charging towards them just an instant before a fuzzy hat shoved over the top of her head obscured her vision.

Elizabeth pushed the brow of the hat up just enough so she could see. She giggled at the sight of Veronica hopping on her toes to pull a jangling elf hat over Margaret’s head.

“There,” Veronica declared once she successfully hatted their older sister. She pulled the third hat from the loop of her belt and stuffed it atop her short crop of hair. “Now we’re all outfitted right for making gingerbread houses!”

They made up icing in several colors while the gingerbread cooled, and each sister picked out some of her favorite candies from the cabinet. The castle’s baker helped Margaret cut the sheets of gingerbread into the perfect size and shape for a little house while Elizabeth and Veronica watched on with eyes round as moons.

Finally, finally, everything was ready. All three sisters had a hand on the icing tube as they piped it into the seams between gingerbread walls, then sealed the roof on to the house. Once they built the basic structure, it was time for Elizabeth’s favorite part: decorating! Margaret drew shingles on the outside walls with thin lines of red and green icing; Elizabeth followed her path with tiny pea-sized gumdrops pressed into the joints between the little loops. Every now and then she put a candy in her mouth instead of on the gingerbread house. Veronica made big icicles dripping from candy-crusted eaves and sprinkled coconut over the rooftop.

After what felt like hours and hours of labor (at least to little Elizabeth it did), the three sisters stepped back from their handiwork with big grins.

“Father will love it!” Margaret said. Elizabeth nodded in agreement as she snuck a few more candies from the dish.

“What do we do with the extra candy and stuff?”

“I suppose we should leave it to the baker. I’m sure he can use it somewhere.”

“Ooor,” Veronica said from behind them, mischief in her voice, “we could do… THIS!”

Just as Elizabeth faced her, Veronica slapped a big glob of icing right on to the center of her nose! Elizabeth shrieked and jerked backward. Her arms flailed as she tumbled out of her seat and on to the floor. Margaret leaped to her feet with protective big-sister worry etched across her face. But she didn’t need to be too concerned – Elizabeth lay there red-faced but giggling as she tried to lick the frosting off her nose.

On the fourth day of Christmas, Secret Santa gave to me              four perfect pies              three festive sisters              two tradition-keepers              and a very merry Christmas to Leksi!

“Alriiiight, what do we have left to make? ♫”

“Umm…” Elizabeth set the masher down in the half-pulverized bowl of potatoes and shuffled to the end of the counter to check the scribbled list. She had checked off each dish as she, Ban, Elaine, and Diane made each of them – or, well, more when Ban declared each dish acceptable eating. Elizabeth herself was not allowed to have anything to do with mixing ingredients or moving pans in and out of the oven. Initially, Ban tried to keep her out of the cooking process altogether.

“You’re almost as bad in the kitchen as Capn’, an’ do ya see him in here anywhere?” he’d said when she offered help. She remembered flushing red until Diane bounced up behind her, holly sprigs stuffed in the ties of her pigtails.

“Aw c’mon, Ban! You’ve got another pair of hands, so you should use them!” Diane said, and then shoved Elizabeth under his arm and into the kitchen behind the bar. He put them to work on clean-up duty and incredibly simple preparation tasks, like mashing potatoes and updating the list when they finished.

Eli scanned the paper, searching for the few dishes that were not already scratched out. Stuffing, beans, and rolls already sat cooling, and Ban slid a steaming pan of casserole next to the others as she looked at the list. All that was left were the potatoes she left on the counter, the turkey turning golden in the oven, and—

“Just the pie for dessert!”

“Oh, really?!” Diane poked her head around the corner, holding her sudsy hands out in front of her to avoid soaking the walls. Elizabeth nodded.

“Just the pie. And I think we should probably leave that to Sir Ban.”

“You should definitely leave it to me,” Ban piped up from inside the kitchen. “It’d be a shame to ruin dessert ♫.”

Diane disappeared for another moment and reemerged with her hands wiped clean of dish soap. She helped Elizabeth finish with the potatoes, then snatched her wrist and dragged her from the kitchen.

As the two of them thumped away, Ban set out the ingredients for four different pies. He gave Elaine the job of rolling out the crusts while he mixed up the fillings and put together the whipped cream. They worked together well, silent except for his soft humming to fill the space. It was pleasant and simple and warm, and the two of them were in perfect harmony. She thought she could live in this moment forever.

“Oh, hey,” Ban murmured suddenly. She paused in pressing down the edge of a pie crust and glanced up to find him looking at something above her head. She followed his gaze toward the rafter above the bar’s counter and promptly turned a little pink when she found the subject of his interest. Someone had tacked a little sprig of green leaves and pale berries into the wood.

“That’s mistletoe,” she said softly. He hummed an agreement. Whoever pinned it situated the mistletoe just so so that only a person standing inside the kitchen could really see it.

Both of them were still for a moment, anticipation thick in the air between them. Elaine was so fixated on watching his face that she barely noticed him absent-mindedly sticking his finger into the bowl of whipped cream. His eyes did not move from the mistletoe until he extended the dollop he’d scooped up toward her, smiling softly.

“Give it a taste,” he prompted. “Tell me how it is.”

She opened her mouth sucked the cream off his finger. Its flavor filled her mouth, rich and sweet. Even sweeter, however, was the taste and feel of his lips pressed against hers only a heartbeat later.

“Ban! We’re in the middle of cooking— something will burn if we do this now!” she pulled away and protested with a giggle. A languid grin crept over his mouth as he leaned close again.

“Nah. All the best cooks know that kissin’ in the kitchen only makes a meal better.”

On the fifth day of Christmas, Secret Santa gave to me              five Christmas trees              four perfect pies              three festive sisters              two tradition-keepers              and a very merry Christmas to Leksi!

Elaine made her way down the stairs carefully, eyes fixed with stubborn determination on the precarious tower of presents in her arms. By the time she reached the landing, she had not lost a single gift, and she was really quite proud of herself. She turned the corner and made to start down the last flight to the dining room. With one foot on the first stair she paused, stock still, and her mouth parted in a little o at the sight of what awaited her at the bottom: a literal forest of pine trees.

How… odd.

She readjusted her hold on the presents and descended the rest of the stairs. She squeezed between the door jamb and the prickly boughs blocking most of it, cautious not to let a single needle of the tree touch her presents lest it destabilize her. On the other side of the Christmas tree was… more Christmas trees. In fact, she realized as she skipped her eyes around herself to count, there were five Christmas trees in the dining hall of the Boar Hat. Five Christmas trees and, sitting at the bar with a glass of alcohol, one visibly disenchanted mage.

“Merlin!” Elaine said, starting toward the bar. She maneuvered the gift tower on to the countertop and hopped up on the seat next to Merlin’s facing the tree-filled dining room. They both remained silent for a moment apart from the faint noise of Merlin sipping her drink. Elaine’s curiosity overwhelmed her.

“Merlin, why are there five trees inside the Boar Hat?”

“‘Go fetch the Christmas tree, I told him,’” Merlin sighed in answer.

“Told who?”

“Your brother. And when he folded his arms and looked at me obstinately, I assumed it wasn’t going to happen. So, I requested that Ban and the Captain take care of it instead...” She dipped her head and smiled ruefully. “I should have known that was a foolish decision.”

“I’m not sure I understand… how does that explain five trees?”

“I coaxed the story from them a few moments ago. As they were poking through the woods for a tree to bring back, they both found one that they thought would be perfect, or look best, or something equally ridiculous. They started to bicker and took so long in doing it that I decided the most efficient course of action would be to simply get one myself. In my absence, they returned not with a Christmas tree, but two, each decorated extravagantly, and when I arrived with a third they demanded I choose which of their choices was superior.”

Elaine cupped her palm over her mouth and giggled. “I’m sure that must have been entertaining. But where did the other two come from?”

“Escanor overheard and took it upon himself to realize my heart’s desire.”

“And… the fifth Christmas tree?”

“Well… your brother either became involved in the Christmas tree pissing contest between Ban and the Captain or he started to feel guilty for turning me down… either way, he went and fetched a tree of his own. And picked up this along the way.” A twist of her hand and a twirl of her fingers summoned an extremely pathetic-looking sprout to hover in the air before them, so limp and bedraggled that King had propped it up with a chastiefol in miniature. “So in reality, we have six Christmas trees.”

On the seventh day of Christmas, Secret Santa gave to me              seven smooching sinners              six trees for Christmas              five proper trees              four perfect pies              three festive sisters              two tradition-keepers              and a very merry Christmas to Leksi!

“FIVE!”

Diane’s fist plowed into Howzer’s gut with the force of a horse kick. He doubled over and his face turned almost as green as his hair. As he choked on breathlessness, chest heaving in a vain attempt to catch his wind back, he decided he regretted asking her for a New Year’s kiss.

“FOUR!”

Ban slung a muscled arm around Meliodas’ neck, capturing his Captain in his elbow and squeezing him close. The ale in his tankard sloshed around from his haphazard handling and splashed Meliodas’ surprised face with foam. Elizabeth put a hand over her mouth to hide her giggle as she tapped Diane on the shoulder so she could see the fun.

“THREE!”

Escanor rocked side to side, eyes closed as he sung for auld lang syne. Merlin caught him by his waist and tipped him over backward, bringing her their faces mere inches from one another as his cheeks burned with a crimson blush.

“TWO!”

Ban released Meliodas and tugged Elaine closer by the wrist so he could press his nose against hers. King’s hands settled anxiously on Diane’s hips as hers held his shoulders, her confident grip mirrored by the look in her eyes.

“ONE!”

Smiles – nervous and assured, toothy and thin, small and wide – turned each of their lips as they prepared for their New Year’s kiss.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

[lonelypond]

Idol Protection Program, Ch. 9

Love Live, NicoMaki, 2.3K, characters not mine, liberties taken are

Birthday Moments

Eve of Yazawa Nico’s 19th birthday. Location: Ayase-Tojo apartment

Nozomi was lounging on her couch, debating whether to have another bite of Nico’s birthday cake. Leaning on Eli was probably going to keep winning, especially as Eli kept taking pauses to kiss Nozomi’s ear.

“I’m surprised you didn’t get an apartment, Nicochi.” Nozomi drawled lazily, letting more of her weight collapse onto Eli.

Nico shrugged, putting down her sparkling water, “Nico has more important things to do.” “But you’re so busy with your debut song, between that and taking care of your siblings, you must have no time to be alone with Maki-chan.”

Nico glared, then glanced over her shoulder toward the kitchen where the redhead in question was making tea. But whatever Maki’s private opinions were about the amount of time Nico had to spend with her, she smiled at Nozomi as she set the tea down on the table, “Nico-chan and I are fine.” Then Maki slid close Nico, her hair teasing Nico’s nose. “Without Eli egging Umi on, the new group has a lot fewer rehearsals than μ's. So Nico and I have breakfast a lot.” “That’s not the same as eating a midnight snack together.” Nozomi decided to feed Eli a bite of chocolate cake.  Nico and Maki rolled their eyes in unison.

“Speaking of, we’d better head out. I’ve got a curfew.” Nico took Maki’s hand.

Eli spit out chocolate cake crumbs, “You’ve got a curfew?”

Nico snarled, “Nico needs her beauty sleep.”

Nozomi waved her fork in Maki’s direction, “And Nico’s mother doesn’t trust a certain redhead.”

“T...T...That’s…” Maki spluttered. “Actually true,” Nico pulled Maki up, smiling wearily as Maki’s expression soured at Nico’s betrayal, “Thanks for the cake.”

“Any time, Nicochi. And if you need to borrow the apartment…” Nozomi offered.

Maki was lost in Nico’s eyes for a moment, seeing love and worry equally mixed, then the redhead smiled, “No thanks, we’re good.”

Eve of Nishikino Maki’s 18th Birthday. Location: The Nishikino manor

Maki, taller, baby fat gone from her profile, stomped her foot in a not so very adult fashion as her parents sat calmly on the couch in the media room.

“I’m an adult now. If I want to marry Nico-chan, I will.” Her voice was a brittle roar and her parents could hear the tears in it.

Her mother spoke calmly, “No one is saying ‘Don’t marry, Nico.” We love Nico. But she’s about to leave on her first international tour and you shouldn’t get married because you’re afraid of losing her.”

Maki’s arms crossed over her chest, the set of her jaw carved in sullen anger, “That’s not why.”

Her father weighed in, also speaking carefully, but firmly, “Marriage is about establishing a home and a family. Nico could be touring for years. And neither of you is even living in a ward that even allows same sex wedding certificates yet.”

“We’d love it if Nico stayed here when she’s not touring. That’s not a problem.” Maki’s mother countered with another practical argument. “It will be convenient. You can get used to each other.” “I don’t want to get used to Nico. I want to marry her.” Maki turned away from her parents, fists clenched at her side, hiding tears. “There are so many considerations, being hasty is just setting yourself up for potential failure. You still have years of schooling. And responsibilities.” Her father was starting to sound grimmer.

After a few moments of silence, Maki stood taller and faced her parents with a bow, “Thank you for your advice.” Her face contorted, as she was obviously holding in an angry rebuttal. “I will let you know what” and here her voice deepened with confidence, “we decide.” Then she strode to the door, thankful she’d already put everything she needed in her birthday present, a sports car from the new Toyota GR line.

After midnight, Nishikino Maki’s birthday Location: roof, Otonokizaka High School

Maki pounded up the stairs, running off some of her frustration with her parents. She felt like a first year again, eager for the start of rehearsal, anxious to see if she could catch the interest of a pair of ruby eyes that sparkled constantly, see that smile. Three years had only made her daily fonder of Yazawa Nico, who matched dynamism and caring in measures far mightier than her size.  Maki had texted Nico from the car, upset, wanting to meet and Nico had suggested the school, giving Maki the keycode she’d gotten, calling in a favor owed by Kotori and Umi. Maki had agreed, this was too private a conversation for the Yazawas’ apartment. The Otonokizaka rooftop was a fitting place. So many of the best things in Maki’s life were rooted in the time she spent there.

Maki flung the door open. Nico was standing a few feet down, staring at the Tokyo skyline, sable hair loose, long pink coat wrapped around her.

“Nico-chan.” Maki rushed to wrap her arms around Nico, lifting the smaller woman off the ground.

“Whoa, Maki-chan. What’s wrong? Did something happen? Tell Nico.” Nico hugged Maki fiercely, ready for whatever Maki needed. But Maki shook her head, knowing Nico could feel it and just wanting to be held for now, before she had to say anything.

Nico steered them to the edge of the roof, sitting them down, her hands caressing Maki’s cheeks, “What’s the matter, Maki-chan? Who upset you on your birthday? Nico will take care of them.”

Maki struggled to hold back the tears the gentleness in Nico’s voice was urging on. So she remembered her parents and the unforgiving look on their faces, the conservative, know nothing about their daughter look that demanded Maki put the life she’d been dreaming about on hold for practical considerations. And she remembered how angry she’d felt.

She flew across the rooftop, arms flung out to the side, voice loud and shrill enough to be mistaken for an alarm siren, “They just don’t understand, Nico-chan. I’m not afraid. I know you have to go on tour…”

Nico was about to ask who “they” was, but then she realized Maki was probably ranting about something her parents had said. She wondered what Maki and the elder Nishikinos had been arguing about, they seemed to exist mostly in a nest of amicable support, as long as Maki stayed on track with school and college and taking over the hospital. None of that had anything to do with Nico’s tour.

“Is this about your birthday?” Nico wondered, puzzled, maybe something happened in rich families at eighteen, papers being signed, property being transferred? Had Maki’s parents refused something?

“Yes.” Maki turned, lavender eyes glowing even more against the red of crying, hair crazy from wind and temper. “I’m an adult now. If I want to get married, I can.”

Nico’s heart stopped, probably literally, at least that’s what it felt like to her as Maki continued, “I’m not afraid because you’re leaving, I don’t want you sharing my teenage bedroom with me, and I KNOW WHAT I’M DOING. WE’RE GETTING MARRIED.”

All of Tokyo heard that. Nico stared at Maki, a glorious comet as she raged around the roof, determination etched into every line of her profile. The echoes died down, and Nico stood in awe, amazed once again by the tempestuousness of the best person she had ever met, the kindest, the truest, the hottest and once, again, along with all of that, the silliest. And once again, it was breathtaking how in synch they were.

And Maki continued ranting, oblivious to any reaction Nico was having, pulling a jewelry box and a ticket envelope out of her pocket, waving them at Nico, “Matching rings. Tickets anywhere you want to get married, paid for with the money I made composing that album for A-Rise.”

Nico couldn’t help it, she was still stuck on Maki standing on the roof of their high school and in the first real act of her adult life, shouting “WE’RE GETTING MARRIED” so all of Tokyo could hear it. Before even asking Nico. So very Maki. So very very impulsively, irresistibly Maki. Which made Nico chuckle. Fondly, which unfortunately confused Maki who stopped, not breathing, suddenly looking small and scared.

“Nico-chan?” It was a whisper as the tears began to gather. “Don’t you want to.”

“Maki-chan,” Nico bounced to where her first love and the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen was suddenly about to collapse in tears, “Silly, silly Maki-chan.” Nico took Maki’s hand, putting the tickets in her coat pocket, grasping the box she’d been carrying around for days, “Nico just meant that, traditionally, someone goes down on one knee.” And Nico knelt in front of Maki, grinning as Maki, once again, stopped breathing, but behind madly blinking, tear dashed eyelashes, there was suddenly hope, “presents a ring,’ it was a small diamond, in a thin gold band, but Nico knew Maki didn’t care about anything but whose hands were offering it “And says, after many many rehearsals in Nico’s head, “Nishikino Maki, you are the only love, the only lover, the only partner for me. No matter what happens from here, I want it to happen with you.” And here Nico couldn’t resist a wink, “You have my heart, you know you can’t say no to Nico so” Nico stood, as she slipped the ring on Maki’s finger and shouted “WE’RE GETTING MARRIED.” And then, Nico searched in her other pocket for something and pulled out a key, turning Maki’s hand over, resting it gently in her palm and closing her fingers around it, “We have an apartment in Shibuya. Want to see it?” Maki opened her hand, staring at the key, “Nico-chan, how?” Nico ducked her head so she was looking into Maki’s eyes, “Is that a yes? You know to” Nico stepped back, hands making a bullhorn around her mouth, “WE’RE GETTING MARRIED.”

Maki grumbled and picked up Nico, swinging her around in a circle, “I thought I couldn’t say no to you.”

“Nico wants to make sure.” Nico pulled Maki into a kiss, feeling the tears running down Maki’s cheeks. “Let me take you home.”

“Nico-chan.” Maki’s hug nearly crushed Nico, but neither of them minded. Nico was marrying a future doctor. Anything Maki broke, she could fix.

Eve Of Nishikino Maki’s 30th birthday Location: Kurosawa Household

Maki had meant to do this two years ago, but children...so many things Maki and/or Nico had meant to do, but children...Maki smiled as she closed the screen to her daughters’ room, so many precious things they hadn’t meant to do as well with the two little miracles in there. Nico had just returned from a tour, and was sleeping off exhaustion, but with the girls asleep now, Maki was going to wake her up. It had been a busy, lonely six weeks as Nico finished off contracted tours she’d postponed when she was pregnant with Ruby. Maki’s mother had moved in for a month to help with the babies and Cocoro had just gone back to Tokyo yesterday.

Maki glanced at her left hand. People were always so surprised that her jewelry was so simple: one thin gold band with a small diamond, one braided gold wedding band. But they represented everything that mattered to her, Nico, independence, commitment. So many memories were threaded in those two circles that Maki wouldn’t have traded them for crown jewels. Nico still occasionally called her silly for getting wedding bands while skipping the proposal, but Maki realized that once again, like everything since she’d met Nico, no matter how things might have started, everything worked out perfectly. Nico had put her savings into an engagement ring and the initial payment on a tiny studio apartment. And remembered to propose.

Maki took the box out of her pocket, removing the ring inside, a thin gold band with a small ruby. She could have bought Nico a much more spectacular ring, but this one, this one was perfect. Exactly like the woman asleep in their bed.

Maki slid the screen open, whispering “Nico-chan?” into the darkened room. Now for the only birthday present she ever wanted, time alone with her wife.

“Maki?” Nico sounded raspy and tired, but Maki’s heart fluttered like it had the first time Nico said her name, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Nico-chan.” Maki slid into bed, Nico nuzzling close. Maki started to say the words, but suddenly felt shy, and silly, and yes, there was that damnable blush as Nico got near enough to kiss her, ruby eyes sparkling. Maki grabbed Nico’s hand and clumsily slid the ring on, mouth open, no words coming out. Nico hesitated, reaching to turn on the light, staring at her fingers. Maybe she should have brought a more impressive one, Maki suddenly worried.

“Maki-chan…” Nico’s voice was soft, shocked.

‘Happy proposal anniversary.” Maki grinned, confidence renewed by the wonder in Nico’s eyes.

Nico shook her head, another Yazawa Nico quicksilver recovery to amaze the girl who’d fallen head over head for a twintailed imp, “You still haven’t learned anything yet, Maki-chan.” Nico crowed, mischief brightening her worn voice, “You’re supposed to ask the girl to marry you before you put the ring on.”

“Nah, that part’s boring.” Maki teased, her lips brushing Nico’s cheek, “I like this better.”

“Really, because Nico remembers having a breathless audience when I proposed.” Nico brought Maki’s left hand to her lips.

“But Nico’s the number one idol in the universe.” Maki giggled, “You fascinate.”

“Every day.” Nico kissed the palm of Maki’s hand and a shiver went through the redhead as she imagined where Nico’s lips would wander from there. “But Nico’s heart is always home here with you, my love, in your care.”

“That’s all I want.” Maki breathed shakily as Nico reached her elbow.

“Good.” Nico’s teeth nipped the skin, playfully, “Because Nico didn’t have time to pick out a birthday present.” Maki reached behind her for a pillow, “You know there’s a penalty.” Nico flipped herself across Maki, “Not if I wrestle you for it.”  Her lips were now on Maki’s collarbone as her hands reached for the pillow. Maki tilted them both back to horizontal, rolling through kisses as they landed. Nico was still all the present Maki ever needed.

A/N: It seems I haven't done one of these in too long so this bit of fluff hijacked my brain. Enjoy!*goes back to whistling Christmas tunes*

[junker-town]

TITLELESS: 16 NBA championship contenders who weren’t good enough

The cold, hard reality of the NBA Playoffs is that only one team can be champion. These 16 teams weren’t quite good enough.

The cold, hard reality of the NBA Playoffs is that only one team can be champion. That means that countless great and memorable teams have suffered the unfortunate fate of running into an opponent that’s just a bit better. Meet the 16 teams of the Not Good Enough Division.

APRIL 13: 16 teams that flamed out early in the playoffs APRIL 14: 16 “Overachievers” COMING THURSDAY: 16 teams who were robbed or had their era cut short

16. 1996-97 Atlanta Hawks

ERA: Dikembe’s Hawks

RECORD: 56-26

POINT DIFFERENTIAL: +5.4

PLAYOFF RESULT: Lost in second round to Chicago Bulls (4-1)

KEY STAR(S): Dikembe Mutombo

COACH: Lenny Wilkins

OTHER KEY PLAYERS: Mookie Blaylock, Steve Smith, Christian Laettner, Tyrone Corbin, Alan Henderson, Eldridge Recasner, Henry James, Jon Barry

OTHERS CONSIDERED FROM THIS ERA: None

Once upon a time, the Atlanta Hawks were a free-agent destination. At least they were for Dikembe Mutombo, a young, shot-blocking center who wore out his welcome in Denver. Mutombo seemed headed to Phoenix in a three-team sign-and-trade that would’ve sent Charles Barkley to Houston, but the deal fell apart when Mutombo asked the Suns for more money. Detroit initially jumped to the front of the line, but Atlanta ended up winning the war with a seven-year, $70 million contract offer.

The money was the biggest factor in Mutombo’s decision, but Atlanta also won Mutombo over by promising a bigger offensive role and rewarding close friend Steve Smith with a fat new contract of his own. “I’m much happier, but poorer,” team president Stan Kasten ominously said after retaining Smith. “He was really hard on us, that’s all I’m going to say.”

Atlanta got better the next season, improving by 10 wins and even taking a game off the mighty Bulls in the second round. That was the high-water mark of this era, though. Chicago won that series in five, and the Hawks slowly faded after a fast start to the 1997-98 season.

15. 1984-85 Denver Nuggets

ERA: Doug Moe’s run-and-gun fun bunch

RECORD: 52-30

POINT DIFFERENTIAL: +2.4

PLAYOFF RESULT: Lost in West Finals to Los Angeles Lakers (4-1)

KEY STAR(S): Alex English

COACH: Doug Moe

OTHER KEY PLAYERS: Fat Lever, Calvin Natt, T.R. Dunn, Wayne Cooper, Dan Issel, Bill Hanzlik, Elston Turner, Mike Evans

OTHERS CONSIDERED FROM THIS ERA: 1987-88

The Denver Nuggets of the 1980s were the prototype for the Seven Seconds Or Less Suns and other up-tempo marvels of the modern era. In many ways, coach Doug Moe was a precursor to Mike D’Antoni. He created a revolutionary whiplash pass-and-move style of play and then left the details for the players to figure out. While other coaches diagrammed intricate set plays and poured over what passed for game film those days, Moe often cancelled practice and never really studied his opponents.

The Nuggets lit up the scoreboard because nobody could get a read on them, but also gave up a ton of points and thus weren’t taken seriously. Not that it bothered Moe too much. This quote from a 1988 Sports Illustrated profile sounds a lot like something D’Antoni would shout to the rooftops years later:

”Most of my career, we’ve been first in offense and last in defense,” Moe says. “But what people don’t realize is that total scores have nothing to do with defense or offense, just the pace of the game. It’s the dumbest statistic ever, totally wacko, and yet everyone uses the total scores as an indication of the kind of defense you play. I may not be the smartest guy in the world, but as long as people go by that stat, I know there’s someone out there dumber than I am.”

Adjusting raw stats to account for pace … what a concept!

The 1984-85 team was Moe’s best of the bunch, though it also was the one that looked most traditional. Before the season, Denver traded Kiki Vandeweghe, a 29-point-per-game scorer who couldn’t guard a chair, to Portland for a king’s ransom that included big man Calvin Natt, point guard Fat Lever, shot-blocking center Wayne Cooper, and multiple draft picks. All three thrived while rounding out the roster around star Alex English.

Denver reached the conference finals and had a real shot to beat the mighty Los Angeles Lakers. They blew LA off the court in Game 2 to tie the series, with English dropping 40 on a stunned Forum crowd.

After losing Game 3 at home, Denver came out hot in Game 4, with English scoring 26 first-half points. Disaster struck in the second half when English re-aggravated a thumb injury that kept him out the rest of the series. Denver rallied from eight down in the fourth quarter without English, but lost Game 4 when the Lakers got seven zillion offensive rebounds before a game-winning James Worthy putback with 20 seconds left.

“That has to rank with one of the most courageous performances I’ve ever seen,” said Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, never a man to resort to hyperbole, in a TV interview.

Without English, Denver had no chance in Game 5. Too bad. That was a fun team.

14. 1982-83 San Antonio Spurs

ERA: The Iceman

RECORD: 53-29

POINT DIFFERENTIAL: +3.6

PLAYOFF RESULT: Lost in West Finals to Los Angeles Lakers (4-2)

KEY STAR(S): George Gervin

COACH: Stan Albeck

OTHER KEY PLAYERS: Artis Gilmore, Mike Mitchell, Gene Banks, Johnny Moore, Mike Dunleavy, Bill Willoughby

OTHERS CONSIDERED FROM THIS ERA: 1978-79

George Gervin, the skinny, slick wing who brought the finger roll into our lives, had two real chances to win a title.

The first was in 1979. Led by Gervin and high-scoring running mate Larry Kenon, the high-octane, loosey-goosey Spurs ran circles around the aging Washington Bullets to take a 3-1 lead in the Eastern Conference Finals. (Why were the Spurs in the East then? :shruggie:) They blew the next two games, but zipped ahead in Game 7 on the road, with Gervin lighting up the scoreboard for 34 points in three quarter. They led by 10 in the fourth and six with two minutes left, but fell apart down the stretch. Gervin didn’t score or even get a shot late, and was bullied inside by Greg Ballard on the other end. Meanwhile, Washington’s Bobby Dandridge took over down the stretch and eventually won the game with a baseline turnaround over three Spurs.

Gervin’s second real chance came in 1982-83, with a team that barely resembled the one that was forged in the wide-open ABA. The Spurs replaced coach Doug Moe with Stan Albeck, who believed San Antonio needed to slow the game down and build a smash-mouth team exclusively around Gervin. Kenon made way for Mike Mitchell, a former all-star in Cleveland who rediscovered his game with the Spurs. After the Lakers swept them in 1982, San Antonio made a bold move for Artis Gilmore, a big-name center to match up with Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. San Antonio won four of five against LA in the regular season, but a pissed-off Abdul-Jabbar raised his game to another level and destroyed Gilmore in LA’s six-game West Finals victory.

Which to choose? The 1979 team got closer, but the 1983 team had more top-end talent and was more equipped to succeed in the playoffs. They just happened to run into a buzzsaw in Abdul-Jabbar and the Lakers.

13. 1971-72 Chicago Bulls

ERA: Dick Motta’s Bulls

RECORD: 57-25

POINT DIFFERENTIAL: +9.3

PLAYOFF RESULT: Lost in second round to Los Angeles Lakers (4-0)

KEY STAR(S): Bob Love

COACH: Dick Motta

OTHER KEY PLAYERS: Chet Walker, Jerry Sloan, Norm Van Lier, Bob Weiss, Tom Boerwinkle, Clifford Ray

OTHERS CONSIDERED FROM THIS ERA: 1970-71, 1972-73, 1973-74, 1974-75

The Bulls were to the 70s what the Bucks were to the 1980s: a well-rounded ensemble cast that always put itself in the mix, was one piece short of taking down the best teams of their era.

In Chicago’s case, that piece was a center. Jerry Sloan and Norm Van Lier were pit bull defensive guards, and the combination of Chet Walker and Bob Love were nearly unstoppable at the forward spots. But Chicago kept getting beat by the great big men of their era, losing three times to Wilt Chamberlain’s Lakers and once to Kareem Abdul-Jabbar’s Bucks. Tom Boerwinkle and Clifford Ray got more out of their talent than they should have, but they were dramatically overmatched against the best of their era.

Chicago came closer to the Finals in 1971, 1973, and 1975, when they lost in the seventh game of the conference finals. The 1972-73 team actually held a seven-point lead over the Lakers with less than three minutes left of Game 7 before fumbling it away. But the 1971-72 club had the best point differential of the bunch and destroyed everyone not named Los Angeles or Milwaukee. Unfortunately, they had to face the 69-win Lakers in the playoffs, which ended in a sweep.

12. 2008-09 Denver Nuggets

ERA: Melo’s Nuggets

RECORD: 54-28

POINT DIFFERENTIAL: +3.4

PLAYOFF RESULT: Lost in West Finals to Los Angeles Lakers (4-2)

KEY STAR(S): Carmelo Anthony

COACH: George Karl

OTHER KEY PLAYERS: Chauncey Billups, Nene, Kenyon Martin, J.R. Smith, Anthony Carter, Linas Kleiza, Chris Andersen, Dahntay Jones

OTHERS CONSIDERED FROM THIS ERA: None

The early-season acquisition of Chauncey Billups for Allen Iverson turned these undisciplined Nuggets into a tough unit that actually played up to expectations. Billups gave George Karl much-needed leadership and enabled Carmelo Anthony to focus on what he did best: score. If only they could complete an inbounds pass in the closing seconds of tight West Finals games against the Lakers. My God.

How hard could it be?

11. 1996-97 Houston Rockets

ERA: The old “Superteam”

RECORD: 57-25

POINT DIFFERENTIAL: +4.5

PLAYOFF RESULT: Lost in West Finals to Utah Jazz (4-2)

KEY STAR(S): Hakeem Olajuwon, Charles Barkley, Clyde Drexler

COACH: Rudy Tomjanovich

OTHER KEY PLAYERS: Mario Elie, Matt Maloney, Kevin Willis, Eddie Johnson, Sedale Threatt, Brent Price

OTHERS CONSIDERED FROM THIS ERA: None

This was the original Superteam, at least in the inorganic, player-empowered way we now associate with the term.

Following a rough year in Phoenix, Charles Barkley threatened to retire if the Suns didn’t trade him to a contender. Houston obliged, giving up a package centered around Sam Cassell and Robert Horry, two key members of their back-to-back title teams in 1994 and 1995. “I’m excited because I called the shots,” Barkley said when the trade was reported. “When push comes to shove, I think you have to stand up to the system.” These kinds of trades are common now, but they weren’t back then.

The move left the Rockets as an old, shallow team, with Barkley joining fellow graybeards Hakeem Olajuwon and Clyde Drexler. Houston patched together enough of a supporting cast to reach the conference finals, but fell to a John Stockton buzzer beater in Game 6.

They then succumbed to injury the next couple seasons, with the bottom falling out after an ill-fated deal for Scottie Pippen during the lockout season.

If you ask Horry, the deal for Barkley was the moment the Rockets’ dynasty died. From a 2015 Huffington Post interview:

“It’s one of the things that me and Sam Cassell talk about all the time. If they would have made the changes and bring in Kevin Willis and Eddie Johnson to that team adding to me and Sam, that’s all we needed. Now they bring in Barkley, a guy who doesn’t like to practice and a guy that doesn’t work hard — it’s documented by Jordan. Now you would’ve added us to that mix with two vets; we would have had a great team. But, no, they think, ‘Oh, we’re going to bring in Charles,’ and, hell, you just realize Charles didn’t win anything in Phoenix — he didn’t win in Philly. And sometimes great players don’t make a great team better.”

Horry’s right that Barkley’s fit was awkward, but he’s dramatically overrating a pre-trade Rockets team that was already showing its age after the Sonics swept them out of the 1996 playoffs. Were the 72-win Bulls really gonna be scared of that Rockets team, plus two 34+-year-old aging vets? At least adding Barkley gave the Rockets a chance.

10. 1975-76 Denver Nuggets

ERA: David Thompson’s Nuggets

RECORD: 60-24

POINT DIFFERENTIAL: +6

PLAYOFF RESULT: Lost in ABA Finals to New Jersey Nets (4-2)

KEY STAR(S): David Thompson

COACH: Larry Brown

OTHER KEY PLAYERS: Dan Issel, Bobby Jones, Ralph Simpson, Chuck Williams, Byron Beck, Gus Gerard, Claude Terry, Jim Bradley

OTHER SEASONS CONSIDERED FROM THIS ERA: 1974-75, 1976-77, 1977-78

The lone ABA representative on this list might have been disrespected in the rankings. As the ABA fell apart around them, the Nuggets turned into a powerhouse. In 1974-75, young coach Larry Brown led Denver to 65 wins before they were overwhelmed by George McGinnis’ one-man show in Indiana. That team then added David Thompson, a breathtaking rookie from NC State whose grace and high-flying aerial assaults mimicked a young Michael Jordan a decade later. (Jordan idolized Thompson, which is why he asked Thompson to present him at his Hall of Fame induction.)

But the Nuggets were again defeated by a one-man band, falling to Julius Erving and the Nets in the ABA’s last Finals series. Denver led by 22 points in the second half of Game 6 before falling apart to lose the crown.

Thompson and the Nuggets’ NBA careers were decidedly less memorable. Thompson dealt with injuries and a cocaine addiction that nearly wrecked his life. (He is thankfully sober today.) His relationship with Brown soured, with Brown chafing by Thompson’s $800,000-a-year new contract before calling it quits midway through the 1978-79 season. (Larry Brown folding early? Why I never.) The Nuggets have occasionally thrived in the NBA, but have never reached their ABA heights.

9. 1996-97 Miami Heat

ERA: Riley and Zo

RECORD: 61-21

POINT DIFFERENTIAL: +5.5

PLAYOFF RESULT: Lost in East Finals to Chicago Bulls (4-1)

KEY STAR(S): Alonzo Mourning

COACH: Pat Riley

OTHER KEY PLAYERS: Tim Hardaway, Jamal Mashburn, Dan Majerle, P.J. Brown, Voshon Leonard, Isaac Austin, Keith Askins, Kurt Thomas, John Crotty

OTHER SEASONS CONSIDERED FROM THIS ERA: 1997-98, 1998-99, 1999-00

Four of the five legitimate Heat teams of the ugly-but-effective Pat Riley-Alonzo Mourning era lost as favorites in the playoffs. Three of those losses were to the Knicks, while the fourth was a thorough evisceration by Baron Davis’ Charlotte Hornets. This was the fifth of those five, and they may have lost to the Knicks too if not for the league’s controversial rule about leaving the bench during a fight. You remember this, don’t you?

I remembered the fight, but I forgot the politicking by both teams thereafter. I forgot P.J. Brown saying he doesn’t believe “all that choir boy image stuff” with the Knicks. I forgot Charlie Ward claiming he was just “boxing out like I usually do on free throws” even though the Knicks were down 15 with less than two minutes remaining. I hadn’t seen Pat Riley’s firm insistence that the fight only got “out of hand” because the Knicks players left the bench. (Riley’s annunciation on “com-BAT-ants” was especially well executed.) I very much enjoyed Jeff Van Gundy’s withering sarcasm at the thought of the NBA allowing “6’11 guys picking on six-foot guys.” (Think of the children!)

But Tim Hardaway is the one who really stole the show. Look at his wink-winking to the camera while saying, “it’ll be very interesting to see what [NBA rules czar] Rod Thorn does.” It was not subtle.

It worked, though. Thorn tossed Brown for the rest of the series, but made five Knicks — Ward, Allan Houston, Patrick Ewing, John Starks, and Larry Johnson — serve one-game suspensions. The first three missed Miami’s Game 6 victory at MSG, while the latter two sat out as Miami closed out the series in seven. The Heat ended up losing in five to the Bulls in the next round.

8. 2003-04 Minnesota Timberwolves

ERA: KG and Flip

RECORD: 58-24

POINT DIFFERENTIAL: +5.4

PLAYOFF RESULT: Lost in West Finals to Los Angeles Lakers (4-2)

KEY STAR(S): Kevin Garnett

COACH: Flip Saunders

OTHER KEY PLAYERS: Latrell Sprewell, Sam Cassell, Wally Szczerbiak, Ervin Johnson, Trenton Hassell, Fred Hoiberg, Michael Olowokandi, Mark Madsen

OTHER SEASONS CONSIDERED FROM THIS ERA: None

The one and only credible Timberwolves team in the Kevin Garnett era rose and fell in a flash. Dogged by first-round exits carrying a limited supporting cast, Garnett went to owner Glen Taylor and asked for more help. He did his part by signing a new contract below the max, and Taylor’s embattled general manager Kevin McHale did his by acquiring Sam Cassell and Latrell Sprewell. Both veterans came with high salaries and as distressed assets, having worn out their welcomes in Milwaukee and New York.

After a slow start, the team gelled beautifully, racing to the top of the Western Conference. They survived a formidable Kings team in the second round, then split the first two games with the vaunted Lakers in the conference Finals. But their Game 2 victory was tarnished by a debilitating Cassell injury, which turned out to be a torn hip that rendered him useless the rest of the series. With Cassell and backup Troy Hudson both out, Minnesota had to use third-stringer Darrick Martin, with Garnett of all people supplying additional playmaking. “I knew for a fact that if I was healthy, we would have won a championship,” Cassell said in 2014.

Minnesota lost that series in six, and then all hell broke loose. Sprewell and Cassell asked for contract extensions, but didn’t get them. (This is where Sprewell’s famous “feed my family” quote was born.) Hudson and Wally Szczerbiak, both former starters displaced by Sprewell and Cassell the previous season, wanted their jobs back. As a horrendous follow-up season came to a close, Taylor called the trades for Cassell and Sprewell “a failed experiment” and “financial-wise, a poor decision on our part.” Ten months ago, they were the missing pieces in the best Timberwolves team of all time. Now, they were a failed experiment? The about-face was remarkable.

Sprewell left in free agency and never played again, while Cassell was included along with a first-round pick in a disastrous sign-and-trade with the Clippers for the right to give Marko Jaric a six-year, $37 million contract. Two years later, the Timberwolves traded Garnett to the Celtics. Now that’s how you destroy a contender.

7. 1997-98 Indiana Pacers

ERA: Reggie!

RECORD: 59-23

POINT DIFFERENTIAL: +6.1

PLAYOFF RESULT: Lost in East Finals to Chicago Bulls (4-3)

KEY STAR(S): Reggie Miller

COACH: Larry Bird

OTHER KEY PLAYERS: Rik Smits, Mark Jackson, Dale David, Antonio Davis, Chris Mullin, Jalen Rose, Derrick McKey, Travis Best

OTHER SEASONS CONSIDERED FROM THIS ERA: 1993-94, 1994-95, 1998-99, 1999-00

This was the best Pacers team of the Reggie Miller era, though others may have advanced further in the playoffs (2000), suffered more disappointing defeats (1999), or produced more iconic moments (1994, 1995).

The 1997-98 club was rock solid, having replaced taskmaster coach Larry Brown with the more laid-back Larry Bird. They were deep, with young Jalen Rose emerging as a dynamic bench player to complement the veteran core of Miller, Mark Jackson, Rik Smits, Chris Mullin, and the Davises. If only they could have snagged a defensive rebound or two in that Game 7 defeat to the Bulls.

6. 1985-86 Milwaukee Bucks

ERA: Don Nelson’s Bucks

RECORD: 57-25

POINT DIFFERENTIAL: +9

PLAYOFF RESULT: Lost in East Finals to Boston Celtics (4-0)

KEY STAR(S): Sidney Moncrief

COACH: Don Nelson

OTHER KEY PLAYERS: Terry Cummings, Paul Pressey, Ricky Pierce, Alton Lister, Craig Hodges, Randy Breuer

OTHERS CONSIDERED FROM THIS ERA: 1980-81, 1981-82, 1982-83, 1983-84, 1984-85, 1986-87

Any of the wonderful-yet-forgotten Bucks teams from the 1980s would be a strong entry in this tournament. You could make a great case for the 1980-81, which relied on an in-prime Marques Johnson, an emerging Sidney Moncrief, and an aging-but-still-effective Bob Lanier in the middle. They won 60 games despite enduring several injuries, but fell to the 76ers in the second round by the slimmest of margins. Game 7, played in front of a sparse Philadelphia crowd, featured 19 ties, 11 lead changes, and one furious Bucks’ rally from 16 points down that fell just short.

But the 1985-86 Bucks get the nod because they did the one thing no other Bucks team could during the decade: beat the 76ers. It took a missed jumper by Julius Erving in the closing seconds of Game 7, but it happened. One point on the right side in 1986 vs. one point on the wrong side in 1981 was the difference.

Just getting past Philly took everything out of Milwaukee. Moncrief, who always seemed to have nagging health issues, was nursing a painful foot injury that kept him out of Game 6 against the 76ers. Young co-star Terry Cummings, acquired in a masterful trade with the Clippers for Johnson before the 1984-85 season, was fighting through a dislocated finger. Ricky Pierce, the Bucks’ fabulous sixth man, played through a sprained ankle. They might have been drawing dead against the fantastic 1985-86 Celtics even at full strength, but we never really got to find out.

5. 1963-64 San Francisco Warriors

ERA: Young Wilt

RECORD: 48-32

POINT DIFFERENTIAL: +5.1

PLAYOFF RESULT: Lost in NBA Finals to Boston Celtics (4-1)

KEY STAR(S): Wilt Chamberlain

COACH: Alex Hannum

OTHER KEY PLAYERS: Guy Rodgers, Al Attles, Wayne Hightower, Gary Phillips, Nate Thurmond

OTHER SEASONS CONSIDERED FROM THIS ERA: 1959-60, 1961-62

Fair or not, Young Wilt Chamberlain had a reputation for being a selfish coach-killer that only cared about his own stats. That got taken to its logical extreme in 1961-62, when Chamberlain averaged 50 points a game for a Philadelphia Warriors team that catered to his every move.

After those Warriors fell narrowly to Bill Russell’s Celtics in the East Finals, they moved across the country to San Francisco and saw Chamberlain mope his way through a 31-49 season that alienated his new fans. “He felt like someone who bought a Rolls-Royce only to discover that the horn didn’t work,” read one Sports Illustrated article.

In came Alex Hannum, a no-nonsense, 6’7 former championship coach who was there to stand up to Chamberlain. The two men got into a screaming match early in the season, but Chamberlain responded by playing more team ball and empowering the rest of the Warriors players. They lost in five games to Boston in the Finals, but the Hannum-Chamberlain partnership seemed poised for the long haul.

Instead, the Warriors fell apart the next season. Chamberlain was nowhere near himself after a preseason bout with pancreatitis, and eccentric new owner Frankie Mieuli traded him to the 76ers to avoid paying out a massive salary. Hannum left the next season and later reunited with Chamberlain to win the 1967 title as 76ers coach.

4. 1961-62 Los Angeles Lakers

ERA: Elgin and Mr. Clutch

RECORD: 54-26

POINT DIFFERENTIAL: +2.2

PLAYOFF RESULT: Lost in NBA Finals to Boston Celtics (4-3)

KEY STAR(S): Elgin Baylor, Jerry West

COACH: Fred Schaus

OTHER KEY PLAYERS: Dick Barnett, Frank Selvy, Rudy LaRusso, Jim Krebs, Hod Rod Hundley, Ray Felix, Tom Hawkins

OTHERS CONSIDERED FROM THIS ERA: 1962-63, 1964-65, 1965-66, 1967-68

It’s a real shame Elgin Baylor never won a championship. His Lakers always ran into the same brick wall that was Bill Russell’s Celtics, and always seemed to fall short in the same way. He and Jerry West were always spectacular, but the Celtics always had more depth and cohesion.

Baylor came closest in 1962, and damn did he come close amid remarkable circumstances. He was called up to the Army Reserve during the season — because he was stationed in Washington, he could only travel back to play in weekend Lakers games. His service was finished by the time the playoffs rolled around, making LA a much more dangerous team than its record indicated.

Led by Baylor and West, the Lakers split the first three games and 47:55 with the Celtics. With five seconds left in Game 7, the Lakers inbounded the ball to Hot Rod Hundley. Legendary Celtics point guard Bob Cousy inexplicably gazed at the ball, leaving Frank Selvy wiiiide open from 12 feet away. But Selvy missed, and Boston eventually survived in overtime when Cousy dribbled out the clock.

Seriously, what was Cousy doing???

Dogged by injuries, Baylor was never quite the same player thereafter. He retired early in the 1971-72 season as a shell of his former self. Months later, those Lakers won the title.

3. 1992-93 Phoenix Suns

ERA: Barkley’s Suns

RECORD: 62-20

POINT DIFFERENTIAL: +6.7

PLAYOFF RESULT: Lost in NBA Finals to Chicago Bulls (4-2)

KEY STAR(S): Charles Barkley

COACH: Paul Westphal

OTHER KEY PLAYERS: Kevin Johnson, Dan Majerle, Richard Dumas, Tom Chambers, Danny Ainge, Mark West, Oliver Miller, Frank Johnson

OTHER SEASONS CONSIDERED FROM THIS ERA: 1993-94, 1994-95

These Suns are remembered for their star power, high-octane offense, and memorable duel with the Bulls in the 1993 Finals. They swung a huge trade for Charles Barkley and ran away with the West. Barkley won MVP, scowling and shouting his message from the rooftops whenever he could find a microphone. The Barkley-Michael Jordan Finals duel occurred at arguably the peak of NBA interest in this country.

As fun as they were, though, they’ve become a bit overrated over the years. Their point differential was about the same as the previous two Suns teams without Barkley, and their defense was porous for a title favorite. Barkley and holdover Kevin Johnson co-exited, but never developed great on-court chemistry thanks in part to Johnson’s injuries. They lost the first two games of their first-round series against a dogshit Lakers team before rallying to win in five. Their West Finals victory over Seattle could’ve gone either way. Key reserve Cedric Ceballos missed the tail end of their playoff run.

I’m just saying they might be over-ranked.

2. 2017-18 Houston Rockets

ERA: James Harden’s Moreyball

RECORD: 65-17

POINT DIFFERENTIAL: +8.5

PLAYOFF RESULT: Lost in West Finals to Golden State Warriors (4-3)

KEY STAR(S): James Harden, Chris Paul (injured Games 6-7)

COACH: Mike D’Antoni

OTHER KEY PLAYERS: Trevor Ariza, Eric Gordon, Clint Capela, P.J. Tucker, Ryan Anderson, Luc Richard Mbah a Moute, Gerald Green, Nene

OTHER SEASONS CONSIDERED FROM THIS ERA: 2014-15, 2016-17, 2018-19

Fortified by the offseason acquisition of Chris Paul, the Rockets dominated the regular season behind a switch-everything defense and a deadly isolation attack spearheaded by James Harden.

Everything they did was to match up against the Warriors, a team nobody else dared to challenge. They took a 3-2 lead in their conference finals series, but lost Paul due to injury late in Game 5. Somehow, they led both Games 6 and 7 by double-digits at halftime. But Golden State flipped the switch and the Rockets faded, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27 missed threes at a time.

1. 1996-97 Utah Jazz

ERA: Stockton and The Mailman

RECORD: 64-18

POINT DIFFERENTIAL: +8.8

PLAYOFF RESULT: Lost in NBA Finals to Chicago Bulls (4-2)

KEY STAR(S): Karl Malone, John Stockton

COACH: Jerry Sloan

OTHER KEY PLAYERS: Jeff Hornacek, Byron Russell, Greg Ostertag, Antoine Carr, Chris Morris, Shandon Anderson, Adam Keefe, Greg Foster

OTHERS CONSIDERED FROM THIS ERA: 8987-88, 1989-90, 1991-92, 1993-94, 1994-95, 1995-96, 1997-98, 1998-99

Twenty-three years later, the subhead on Jackie MacMullen’s “Inside the NBA” piece for the March 17, 1997, issue of Sports Illustrated sticks out like a sore thumb. “[Karl] Malone is playing like an MVP,” it read. “Not that anyone has noticed.”

Whether the piece changed the narrative or simply reflected something deeper beneath the surface, it had a major effect. Two months later, Malone edged out Michael Jordan in the voting to win the NBA’s preeminent regular-season prize.

The Bulls seethed, which proved to be bad news for Malone when he finally reached his first NBA Finals. As he stepped to the line in the closing seconds of a tied Game 1, Scottie Pippen whispered the now-iconic words: “The Mailman don’t deliver on Sundays.” Malone missed both, opening the door for Jordan to hit a game-winning jumper at the buzzer.

That set the stage for a Finals in which Malone played below par and the Jazz lost in six games despite often being on the doorstep of victory. Their Game 5 loss has been memorialized as Jordan’s “Flu Game” moment, and they gave up a game-winning jumper to Steve Kerr in Game 6 before throwing the ball away at the buzzer.

Too bad, because these Jazz were a dominant force. They zipped through the West playoffs, schooling the young Lakers in five and outlasting the superteam Rockets of Hakeem Olajuwon, Clyde Drexler, and Charles Barkley in the West Finals. In any other season, they would have been champions.

[icarose]

soulmates

500 words of messy angsty unrequited soulcest because there’s never enough of it floating around. would probably continue and rewrite this when I’m not swamped with acads lmao

*

tommy can’t help the clench in his chest when he sees that face, so achingly, hatefully familiar yet wondrously foreign, staring straight at him and only him, for one heart-stopping moment.

his world freezes and it’s an alien feeling, because he isn’t running but the world is still. he isn’t running but everything around him is slowing down. it should feel impossible, it should terrify him and strike him down with panic and fear, but instead he just feels calm. billy’s here. everything is as it should be.

later he’ll wonder why he didn’t take the chance to run the moment they broke him out. or, more accurately, the moment he’s had his fill of looking at billy, immortalizing the way his face looks with dark hair and dark eyes in his mind, then sprinting off before any of them would notice. but he listens to kate and he fights alongside eli and they all come together to bring teddy back. it’s a hollow victory, standing to the side as billy throws his arms around him, around teddy- this otherworldly golden-haired prince of a boy who had loved and protected billy when he hadn’tdidn’tcouldn’t. Ididn’tkowyouwerewithmeinthisworldIfeltsoalone- with all his might.

and it’s not as if he expects to suddenly have a space in billy’s life, that the other boy would just drop everything to keep him by his side but- who is this boy? and he is just a boy, as green-skinned and super-powered as he may be. why does he get to hold billy and pull him close and lay a hand on his shoulder or his back so easily, so perfectly and casually intimate? what gives him the right to have what tommy never knew he wanted, what he never knew he’s been missing all his life?

he’s not entitled to anything from billy, he knows he’s not. not his time, not his concern, not his brown-eyed gaze nor his toothy smile. certainly not his home. not the open invitation to become part of his new- no real, loving, supportive and entirely deserved- family.

and the drs. kaplan tell him that if he’s billy’s brother, then that’s good enough for them. and tommy doesn’t cry but he thinks he kind of wants to because in this life, his own parents were never this kind, never this selfless. in this life, billy calls him brother and it hurts more than it should. I don’t know you, he wants to shout. I was supposed to be your mirror, I was supposed to be the one at your back, I was supposed to be the one who knew you more than anyone else did. why don’t I know youit’snotfairIwould’velookedforyouIwould’vefoundyou but he didn’t. and he doesn’t know this billy.

so he runs.

*

he meets another dark-haired boy and he’s got scars and he’s got lightning shooting out of his fingertips. it’s not blue like billy’s, not as hot and not as familiar. but he likes to think their mouthlipsthroatthighs would’ve tasted the same.

his sadness doesn’t stare out of windows like billy does. sometimes, when he feels it creeping in, he climbs up into rooftops and runs in place as fast as he can for what feels like hours but is probably just a couple of minutes until it’s gone again. 

there’s no misery tommy shepherd can’t outrun.

[chasespero]

@applerobber asked me to write something about the upcoming rooftop scene and this is what I’ve come up with.

Just to say, I don’t know what’s going to happen and I’m slightly nervous about it. I hope you all enjoy reading this mini fic though, let me know and as always, I welcome any prompts you have. 

                                                    --- 

The sound of footsteps hitting the metal steps was all that could be heard as Bernie rushed to get to the top of the flight of stairs, she was taking two steps at a time and Jasmine and Fletch were close behind her. Bernie could feel the cool air already touching her cheeks and she pushed her hair out of her face as she reached the final steps and she didn’t hesitate in banging on the sturdy door that was in her way.

“Serena!” Bernie shouted whilst hammering on the door.

“Serena, open up!” Bernie tried hitting the door once more and she glanced to Jasmine and Fletch who were looking wide-eyed at her.  

“Sod this.” Bernie growled and she used all of her strength and pushed at the door, she pulled the handle as hard as she could and she pushed repeatedly and with one last bout of strength, she pushed the door and it flung open.

“Serena!” Bernie shouted once more and her eyes landing upon a lone figure sitting close to the edge of the roof.

Bernie took a few steps towards Serena; she stayed quiet as she did it then she stopped.  

“Serena?” Bernie said softly this time and she got no response.

Jasmine and Fletch were standing in the doorway looking on with frantic eyes.

“Look at me…please.” Bernie said, her voice wavering slightly.

Bernie swallowed inaudibly as she took another step closer to Serena, this time there was movement from the brunette and she turned her head and glanced up at Bernie.

Bernie gazed at Serena, she could see the residue from the tears (she guessed) that had run down Serena’s cheeks and as she looked back up into Serena’s eyes, she couldn’t see anything. Bernie couldn’t see any emotion, Serena looked empty and Bernie’s heart broke. Taking a steady step, Bernie reached her arm out.

“Take my hand.” Bernie said gently and Serena looked away.

“Serena.” Bernie said.

“I-I can’t, I’ve…lost everything, Jason’s left, Eli-Elinor’s gone! And I don’t even know myself anymore.” Serena said with anger.

“You haven’t lost me, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.” Bernie said. “Jason’s just worried about you; he’s not sure how to help anymore.”

“That’s because no one can help me.” Serena said plainly.

“Yes they can, we can. We are all here for you Serena but you have to want to accept the help as well.”

Bernie watched Serena stand up and her heart starting beating faster, it looked as if Serena was moving closer towards the edge and Bernie was preparing herself for whatever was about to happen.

“What if I don’t want to accept help?” Serena said and she turned around to face Bernie.

“Then we will continue to support you till you’re ready but this isn’t the answer.” Bernie staring at Serena, she stretched her hand out again and kept her eyes on Serena.

“Please take my hand.” Bernie said once more.

Tears ran down Serena’s face and she looked up at the dark sky and closed her eyes, when she opened them she looked towards Bernie and walked forwards then grabbed her hand. Bernie pulled Serena in and instantly wrapped her arms around Serena’s body, she kept a firm grip on her, holding her close and she listened to the sound of her partner crying.

“It’s going to be okay my love.” Bernie whispered and she brought her hand up and rested it on the back of Serena’s neck.

“We will get through this.” Bernie added and she placed a gentle kiss on the top of Serena’s head.

“I’m sorry.” Serena said her voice thick with emotion.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Bernie said and she lifted her head, glanced over at Jasmine and Fletch, and gave them a silent nod that it was okay and they understood then left the doorway.

“Do you remember the first day we met?” Bernie said, still with her arms around Serena and she felt her nod.

“Engine been growling or whining?” Bernie said.

“Any intermittent smell of hot or burning rubber?” Serena replied and Bernie laughed softly.

“Yes and you smiled at me that day and it was the most wonderful smile I had ever seen, it still is.”

Silence surrounded them but then Serena tilted her head.

“Oh Bernie, what am I going to do?” Serena said, her voice sounding nothing but exhausted.

“We’re going to do everything we can to help you, I will support you. I will be here for you ever step of the way, you’re not on your own you know that?”

Serena nodded and buried her face in the crook of Bernie’s shoulder and Bernie closed her eyes. Thoughts were running through her mind, thoughts of Serena and why she escaped to the roof in the first place, was she going to jump? Bernie didn’t want to think about it, not yet anyway. A lone tear ran down Bernie’s cheek and she kissed the side of Serena’s head.

“I love you.” Bernie said quietly rubbing her hand up and down Serena’s back. 

“I love you.” She repeated a little louder this time.

[ofchxrisma-archive]

dysfunctionaljoy replied to your post: �� //-shouts from the rooftops- ELI & RHYS

//this is NOT poop it’s beautiful and I’m imagining it and now I really want eli + rhys + snow and I am sh00k

Say the word and you’ll have eli + rhys + snow. It’ll be so much more fun for Rhys than Eli tho because Eli is so not a fan of snow