#err and also the new tap. then it's just a matter of airing out the house

[magistralucis]

leak has now been patched over, but now we have no tap on the bathroom sink. fuck my entire life

[intheticklecloset]

My Hero Academia Sentence Starters #21-30

A collection of the MHA sentence starters I’ve done, compiled for the sake of ease. These are all stand-alone stories.

~~~

21) Lee Bakugou, Ler Todoroki

“Get off of me!” Bakugou snapped, shoving at Todoroki, who was currently trying to crawl into his lap. “Back off!”

“You said I could if I won,” Todoroki replied calmly, pausing in his approach. “Don’t make me use ice shackles.”

Bakugou bristled. “You don’t have the guts, you—”

Todoroki wordlessly snatched up his wrists, shoved them to the head of the couch, and used his ice to freeze him in place. Then he finally reached his destination, settling himself on the blonde’s hips. “You were saying?”

“G-Get off,” Bakugou demanded again, though this time through a shiver from the cold. “Idiot, you can’t just—”

“You said…” Todoroki reached under his shirt to rake his nails down his ribcage, effectively silencing his protests and replacing them with a yelp and a few giggles. “…that if I won, I could tickle you for five minutes. And I did win. See there?” He nodded toward the TV, where his character stood over Bakugou’s in victory.

“Y-You…you cheated somehow,” Bakugou tried, trying his best not to break into another fit of giggles at the light skittering along his sides. He squirmed, twisting his head to hide his smile. “You couldn’t have w-won without cheheheating.”

Todoroki rolled his eyes, then shoved Bakugou’s shirt so far up he was able to slide it up his arms and over his eyes, blinding him. “Stubborn as always.”

“W-Wait! Icy-Hot, I can’t sehehehehehehee!” Bakugou squealed, giggling uncontrollably as Todoroki scratched lightly at his sweet spots. He could feel his cheeks growing redder by the second, but he couldn’t do anything about it, helpless as he was. “Stahahahahahap, this isn’t fahahahahahair!”

“Well now, that’s too bad.” Todoroki was smirking; Bakugou could hear it in his voice, even if he couldn’t see it. The light scratching became gentle kneading, and finally the blonde dissolved into actual laughter, squirming and kicking but going nowhere fast. Todoroki chuckled. “Maybe next time you should put up more of a fight.”

*

22) Lee Shinsou, Ler Deku

“Don’t call me cute!”

“But you are!” Deku smiled up at Shinsou, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him closer. He nuzzled himself under his boyfriend’s chin. “You’re super cute!”

Shinsou tensed, trying to pull away. “H-Hey, don’t – Midoriya, stop it—” He couldn’t help the giggle that slipped out of him as he tried to twist his head away from the mop of green hair, unable to pry himself free of his partner’s firm hold. “That tickles! Don’t—”

Deku looked up at him, eyes wide and bright with excitement. “Tickles?”

Shinsou’s cheeks turned pink. “N-No, I mean – I mean yes, but – Midoriya!”

Deku held him even closer, standing on his tiptoes to better reach his neck and collarbone, peppering them with light kisses that made Shinsou dissolve into helpless giggles. “Now you definitely can’t tell me you’re not cute, Toshi~”

“Stahahahahahap,” Shinsou giggled breathlessly, trying to push Deku away and failing. “You d-dohohohohon’t understahahahahand, it tihihihickles so much – plehehehehehease!”

“Light tickles really drive you crazy, huh?”

“Midoriya, plehehehehease – Izuku!” Shinsou squealed when Deku reached up to trail his fingers along the back of Shinsou’s neck down to his shoulder blades. Honestly it was a wonder the taller boy hadn’t completely collapsed yet. “Ahahahahahaha, nohohohohoho! Stop, plehehehease!”

Deku giggled, finally slowing his light tickles to a stop, wrapping his arms around Shinsou’s neck and pulling him down for a kiss. “Just admit it. You’re cute.”

“Ugh, fine,” Shinsou relented, grabbing Deku’s hips to both pull him closer and dig in without mercy. His boyfriend exploded into laughter, and Shinsou grinned from ear to ear at the sound. “But you’re cuter.”

*

23) Lee Deku, Ler Shinsou

“Gee, I wonder where you are~”

Deku pressed both hands over his mouth to keep his giggles at bay, waiting anxiously in the darkened closet for Shinsou to find him. Because he would find him. It was a matter of time, and Deku knew that. Probably the taller boy already knew where he was and was just messing with him by pretending he didn’t. The thought made Deku’s heart race faster.

Suddenly the door to the closet flung open, and all Deku could see was the outline of his boyfriend before Shinsou dropped to his knees, grabbed his sides, and dug his fingers in relentlessly.

“Aiieehehehehehehe!” Deku burst into giggles, squirming and kicking but not fighting back. He knew it was pointless, and besides, he was having too much fun to want to stop now. “Hitoshiehehehehehehehe!”

“Yes, Izuku?” Shinsou teased into his ear. “My, you seem especially ticklish today, don’t you?”

“No I dohohohohohon’t!”

“Yes, you do~” His fingers dug into his sides even more, one hand sliding up to his ribs as well. “Tickle, tickle~”

“Nahahahahahaha Hitoshiehehehehe!” Deku flopped backward onto his boyfriend’s lap, and Shinsou took the opportunity to worm his fingers into the smaller boy’s underarms, making him shriek with laughter, kicking the air wildly. “AHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!”

“I don’t hear you asking me to stop, ‘Zuku~”

“BEHEHEHEHECAUSE I DON’T WAHAHAHAHAHANT YOU TO!!”

Shinsou beamed, hoisting Deku up so he was seated in his lap rather than lying on it, wrapping him up in a bear hug and squeezing a hip teasingly. Deku let out a scream of laughter, struggling in earnest now but going nowhere fast. “Is that so? Well, then, allow me to give you more of what you want~”

*

24) Lee Bakugou, Ler Ojiro

“Not so tough now, huh?”

Bakugou’s arms trembled with the effort to keep the shelf from tipping over while Ojiro’s tail brushed along his exposed underarms. He gritted his teeth. “J-Just gehehet the screw into the wahahall already, you i-idoit!”

One of the single shelves in the kitchen area had suddenly broken free from one of its hinges just moments before, and without really thinking about it, Bakugou darted forward to keep it from making a mess of spices and pan sprays on the ground that they’d have to clean up later. He’d successfully managed to balance the shelf while Ojiro went to the storage closet to get a new hinge and a couple of replacement screws, but now that he’d come back, all the tail hero seemed to want to do was mess with him.

Bakugou was desperately trying not to laugh. That tail of his was so soft and plush, and it tickled like crazy, but he’d rather die than give Ojiro the satisfaction of hearing him beg.

“Come on, Bakugou, you know you want to giggle,” Ojiro teased, standing with his hands on his hips, tools in his fists. He continued to brush the tail all over his underarms and neck. “Let it out, now. Come on~”

“Fihihix the shehehelf, you stupid extrahaha!” Bakugou snapped, really fighting the urge to bring his arms down to protect himself.

“Fine, I know what will make you laugh.” Ojiro stepped right up to him, pulled his shirt up to expose his ribs, and brushed his tail over the sensitive skin there.

Finally, Bakugou had no choice. Forget dying – he just wanted out of this situation. “Agh, fihihihihine, fine! Stahahahahap it before I drohohohohohop everythihihihing!”

Ojiro obliged, grinning. “That’s more like it.” And he finally got to work repairing the broken shelf.

*

25) Lee Kaminari, Ler Sero

“Dude, did you just snort?!” Sero laughed, pressing his fingertips deeper into Kaminari’s knee pits. “Oh my gosh, do it again!”

“NO!! NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!” Denki was losing his mind laughing, pounding the floor with his fist in an effort to tap out. Another snort slipped out of him, making him even more embarrassed than he already was. “STAHAHAHAHAHAP, SERO!!”

Sero chuckled, finally leaving his knees alone to scribble at his thighs instead. “You’re too ticklish for your own good, my friend.”

“Tehehehehehell me sohohohohomething I dohohohohohon’t know!”

“Okay. You’re also stupid cute when you’re tickled. Bet you didn’t know that.”

Surprised, Denki lifted his head, taking in Sero’s sweet smile and blushing all over again. “I-I am nohohohohohohot!”

“Yeah, you are.” Sero scooted up to sit at his side, grabbing his waist and squeezing. “You’re super cute. Like, I might actually die, you’re so adorable.”

Denki tried to push him away but only succeeded in weakly grasping his wrists as he tickled, which only made him more sensitive. That and the teasing were really doing a number on him. “Nohohohohoho, stohohohohop it!”

“But you’re cuuuuute,” Sero whined playfully, poking randomly up and down Denki’s sides and ribs, making the blonde yelp and squeak and roll around helplessly. “So. Cute. You��re. So. Dang. Cute!” He teased with each poke, enjoying the bright pink flush that was coming over Denki’s face and ears.

“Sero,” Denki pleaded, finally managing to grab his arms and free himself from his tickly demise, if only for a moment. “Y-You can’t…just say that. Unless you…you…”

“Mean it?” Sero grinned, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek. “I do mean it.” Then he kissed his neck, and Denki dissolved into giggles all over again. “You’re such a cute, ticklish little sparkplug~”

*

26) Lee Deku, Ler Shinsou

“You can’t make me!”

“Oh?” Shinsou leaned down to Deku’s face, smirking, pinning his wrists to the wall even harder. “Pretty sure I can make you do anything, Midoriya.”

Deku opened his mouth to reply, then clamped it shut. He was fairly certain Shinsou wouldn’t use his quirk on him without permission first, but since he wasn’t 100% sure, he decided to err on the side of caution.

Shinsou quirked a brow. “Giving me the silent treatment, huh? Well, I can fix that.” He shoved Deku’s arms above his head, crossing his wrists and pinning them both with one hand while his other reached down to scratch lightly in the smaller boy’s underarm.

“Eep!” Deku squeaked, unable to help the tiny giggles escaping him as he tried to twist away. Shinsou’s finger started digging in a little deeper, making him break instantly. “Nohohohohoho, Shinsou!”

“Gonna say it now?”

“Nahahahahahaha!”

“Very well.” Shinsou grabbed his thigh, pressing his thumb into the space where it met his hip, and Deku nearly buckled, the sensation was so strong.

“GAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHO!!” He screamed, laughing uncontrollably. He tugged at his arms but Shinsou was surprisingly strong for how lean he was. “NO FAHAHAHAHAHAIR!! SHIHIHIHIHIHINSOU!!”

“Say it.”

“NOHOHOHOHOHO WAHAHAHAHAY!!”

With a growl, Shinsou kept drilling into that ultra-sensitive spot while leaning down to kiss Deku’s neck, making the poor boy squeal with hysterics.

“OKAYOKAYOKAHAHAHAHAY I’LL SAHAHAHAHAY IT JUST STAHAHAHAHAP!!”

“That’s more like it.” Shinsou smirked, stopping his assault but keeping a hand on his thigh in warning. “Out with it, Midoriya.”

“I-I…I’m a…” Deku groaned, turning to hide his face in his shoulder. “I’m a…c-cutie pie.” He cringed. “That’s so embarrassing, why did you make me s-s-sahahahahay thahahahahat?!” Shinsou had started scribbling over his open tummy, making him giggle all over again. “Nahahahahahaha!”

“I made you say it because it’s true,” Shinsou replied, smirking, kissing his cheek. “Duh.”

*

27) Lee Bakugou, Ler Kirishima

“Ohoho, you like to be tickled here, don’t you?” Kirishima teased over Bakugou’s roaring laughter, scratching at his bottom ribs with purposeful strokes. “But you’re just too ticklish to stand it! Hmm…what to do, what to do…?”

“KIRI STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!” Bakugou pleaded, writhing on the bed helplessly, his arms tied to the headboard above him with the very necktie he’d worn to school that afternoon. His uniform shirt had been unbuttoned and opened up for ease of access, and the vulnerability was making this all so much worse. “PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE, STAHAHAHAHAHAP!!”

“But you so obviously like being tickled here,” Kiri hummed in mock distress. “I don’t want to stop when you love it so much!”

Bakugou flushed red, desperately squirming everywhere he could. Kiri’s fingers kept up with him, and his face was just so cute as he so easily made the blonde fall apart, and the atomic teen was losing his mind. But the redhead was right – he did love to be tickled here, even if he couldn’t stand it. He kicked his legs uselessly, both loving and hating that he couldn’t bring his arms down to push him away.

“NO MOHOHOHOHOHORE, KIRIEHEHEHEHEHE!!” He screamed, the gentle, persistent scratching truly driving him up the wall now. He didn’t know how much longer he could take it. “AHAHAHAHAHAHA PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE!!”

“Had enough, giggles?”

Bakugou hated that nickname because it made him so dang flustered every single time. Still, he nodded frantically. “YEHEHEHEHES, YES, ENOHOHOHOHOUGH!! PLEHEHEASE!!”

Kiri gradually slowed to a stop, allowing Bakugou to reenter the world of non-tickles with as much ease as possible. Then he leaned down and planted a kiss on his lips. Bakugou hummed in surprise and appreciation, kissing right back until Kiri pulled away and grinned. “Want another round?”

*

28) Lee Kaminari, Ler Bakusquad

It was so silent you could hear a pin drop. The others stared at him. Denki could feel himself beginning to panic. Had he just said that out loud?!

“I…I mean…uh…” he stammered, trying to take it back however he could but unable to find the words. He hid his face, not knowing what else to do. “I’m sorry, forget I said that.”

“Forget?” Bakugou said incredulously.

“Oh, we’re so not going to forget that,” Sero teased.

Kirishima chuckled. “So you want to be tickle tortured, do you?”

“That’s so cuuute~” Mina squealed.

Denki was blushing so hard he felt like he’d gotten heatstroke. Seconds later his hands were being pried away from his face by Kiri’s strong arms, and Sero, Bakugou, and Mina were all wiggling their fingers at him. “Eep!”

“Here we come~” Mina teased.

Bakugou smirked. “You asked for it, dunce face.”

“I can tie you up with my tape if you’d like,” Sero said, holding up his arms for emphasis.

Denki gasped, shaking his head frantically. “No, nonono, I can’t – I’m t-too ticklish for that!”

“You’re super ticklish, huh?” Kiri teased into his ear. He chuckled. “Get him!”

And get him they did, drilling their wiggling fingers into his sides, his ribs, his belly, his underarms – even throwing in a couple of squeezes to his hips and thighs once in a while. Denki tossed his head back and unleashed a long string of laughter he’d been dying to let loose for days. God, he’d wanted this so bad, but had never had the courage to say it – until just now, apparently.

“So, what was it you said?” Sero teased, wiggling a finger into his belly button. “‘I want to be tickled until I can’t breathe’?”

Mina cooed, Kiri laughed, and Bakugou smirked evilly. “Consider it done, dunce face.”

*

29) Lee Todoroki, Ler Bakugou

Todoroki often restrained his attacks during training for one purpose: he didn’t want his friends to be scared of him. To stop tickling and teasing him mercilessly just to see him lose his mind in laughter. To be close in a way he was afraid he would put an end to by unleashing the full force of his power during training.

Unfortunately for him, Bakugou took issue with that approach.

“You better stop holding back on me!” the blonde snapped once their training session was over for the day and the entire class was beginning to pack up and leave the grounds.

Todoroki hesitated. “I just – I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Hurt me? Bah! You couldn’t lay a finger on me, Icy-Hot, especially if you’re holding back like that!”

Todoroki merely shrugged and looked away.

Bakugou growled. “I’ll make you see things my way.” In a flash, he’d kicked Todoroki’s legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground in surprised heap in the moments before Bakugou ripped off his shoes and started scribbling wildly over his socked soles.

“AIEEEAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! NAHAHAHAHAHAHA BAKUGOU!!” Todoroki screamed with laughter, unable to hold back his reactions whatsoever. Curse him for going after his worst spot right off the bat! “STAHAHAHAHAHAP I CAHAHAHAHAHAN’T TAKE IT!! PLEHEHEHEASE!!”

“Promise you’ll stop holding back on me and I’ll stop tickling you to death,” Bakugou demanded, turning to look over his shoulder at the mess he was making of the normally stoic boy. “What do you say, Icy-Hot?”

“OKAYOKAY FIHIHIHIHIHIHINE I’LL STOHOHOHOHOHOP HOLDING BAHAHAHACK!!” Todoroki pleaded, laughing hysterically as he writhed on the ground. “I’LL DEFEHEHEHEHEAT YOU NEXT TIHIHIHIHIHIME!!”

Well, that was the wrong thing to say. Bakugou ripped off his socks next, going straight for his toes. “Oh, will you, now?”

“NONONONO I’M SOHOHOHOHOHORRY I TAHAHAHAHAKE IT BAHAHAHACK—!!”

*

30) Lee Shinsou, Ler Deku

“Relax, it’s just a massage!” Deku laughed, highly amused by his poor boyfriend’s increasingly distressed state. He kneaded into his shoulder blades again for emphasis, making Shinsou choke on a laugh.

“Gah! Pfft no – no it’s nohohohohohot! You knohohohohow what you’re doing, you jeheheherk!” Shinsou tried to sound angry, but it came out as more of a whimper. His legs kicked behind him as he squeezed his arms to try and keep them in place above his head so he could rest his cheek on them. But another scribble between his blades from Deku had him cackling into the bedsheets all over again. “Nahahahahahahaha! Stahahahahahap it alreadyehehehehehe!”

“I’m literally not even trying to tickle you,” Deku giggled, swiping a finger from Shinsou’s shoulder blades to the base of his neck. “Well, at first I wasn’t, anyway.”

“Leheheheheave me alohohohohone! I cahahahahan’t take thihihihis!”

“Oh, I think you can.” Deku leaned down to press soft, feather-light kisses along Shinsou’s upper back and shoulder blades, and his usually well-composed boyfriend broke down into a long string of utterly helpless giggles, squirming desperately.

“Izuku, nohohohohohohoho! Nohohohohohot thahahahat – it tihihihihickles! Plehehehease!”

“Does it now? I would never have guessed.” Deku chuckled, trailing his kisses from his shoulders to the back of his neck, nuzzling into his ears from behind, enjoying the half-whine, half-moan that came out of his boyfriend. “Tickle, tickle, little Toshi~”

“Dohohohohohon’t call me thahahahat,” Shinsou begged, turning his face to the side to try and catch his breath a little better. “You’re smahahahahaller than me.”

“Yeah,” Deku agreed, blowing air across the back of his left ear, making him shiver and giggle at the same time. “But baby talk works way better on you, doesn’t it, my ticklish little Toshi?”

Shinsou’s cheeks turned hot pink. “Shuhuhuhuhut up…”

Deku kissed his neck again. “Never.”

[indianamoonshine]

c h a p t e r | i

summary: every summer you work on your father's strawberry farm with your three sisters. it's a way to take a break from the big city but summers in the midwest are hot and they linger. this year, your father's old and mysterious friend shows up to stay on your land for a reason yet to be determined. din djarin seems dangerous, but kind enough, and the two of you quickly become...well, let's fact it...smitten.

rating: m (18+) for future and explicit sexual content.

author's note: reader is well over eighteen for obvious reasons. i won't ever go into physical detail about the reader's appearance because we include everyone. this fic is pretty much a mix between pride & prejudice and call me by your name except without the und*rage crap we do not condone. so, without further ado, here's an aesthetically pleasing fanfic.

the moment din djarin laid eyes on you he knew he was a dead man.

at first, his view of you had been obstructed because you'd opened every door and window in the house. june in the midwest sometimes required such nuisances, so all of the curtains billowing in the breeze prevented him from looking upon you.

you were also on the couch, but he hadn't known that until you lifted a hand - soft as a dove's - from the back of the sofa. you played with the light between your fingers, shielding its dazzling rays from your eyes, just before setting it down again. your hands were so small (smaller than his anyway) and gentle. he imagined how foreign your skin would feel in warm contrast to his; how your fingers would feel intertwined with his calloused ones, which had done enough work throughout the years to be mistaken for a beggar’s. within the first moment, he saw you as flawless.

your father had not stopped for breath since din arrived, lamenting about the farm or discussing the layout of the home with an eagerness din had yet to match. he would've initially been interested in the history of the farm or how many sprawling acres rolled endlessly before them, but his eyes couldn't leave your hand.

you must've been asleep - napping in the embrace of the sun - because as soon as your father drew breath upon entering the living room, your voice tickled din's ears for the first time. sweet as music.

"dad? is that you?"

din couldn't help but blink at the sound of your voice. it seemed unnatural, like one hears in dreams or spiritual awakenings. he manages to compose himself at your father's side, straightening his posture to err on the side of caution.

your father exclaims with a joyful "ah!" and then introduces you by name.

"my daughter. one of them, anyway. she and the three eldest help during the summer," he had said, and then turned to the bay windows to go on about the view.

but you meet din's eyes, rested and glimmering with curiosity, while your father droned on in the background. you reach out a hand - the one he'd thought of holding - to shake.

he does. and it's every bit as beautiful as he knew it'd be.

"how do you do?" you give him a polite and pretty smile. if he hadn't known any better, you bat your eyelashes for good measure.

your father's tour continues but din can't stop thinking about the way your skirt rose to your thighs as you stretched awake.

|||

you were lying if you said you didn't think about him for the rest of the day.

you weren't the only one. your sisters - all three of them - had also met the mysterious din djarin.

"who is he?" charlotte asked while you congregated at the nearby pond. it was a lovely place, nestled within the thick of the woods and bursting with greenery. flowers of every kind blossomed around you and scents the air with a sweetness.

rhea lays in the shade of a peach tree. "one of dad's old friends," she says. she waves herself with a floral paper fan she'd gotten from chinatown while visiting you in new york.

"but why is he here?"

madeline, who paints with her watercolors, pipes in. "i heard he got into some trouble with the law and now he's in hiding."

you roll your eyes with a scoff, lounging in the grass and watching the clouds in the bright, blue sky. "madeline, that's absurd."

rhea (who is the oldest and most pragmatic) surprises you when she shrugs her shoulders. "i don't know. he looks likes a bad boy..."

you recall the way his jaw clenched as you introduced yourself - his neck was tempting. his skin glowed with a radiant hue in the sunlight and his eyes shone with an aura of broodiness. he was very austenian.

"boy is hardly the word," you correct.

charlotte, being the flirt, wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. she swims in the pond, hair wet and fanning against the water. she sinks lowly for dramatic effect. "how right you are."

"trouble or not, he was a perfect gentleman." rhea sighs and skims the water with her forefinger. "either way, he's easy on the eyes so i don't mind having him around."

easy on the eyes was putting it mildly. you wouldn't say that to the girls though; they had a habit of teasing when you showed interest in anyone attainable let alone a man decades older than you.

"don't do anything stupid, charlotte." madeline dips her paintbrush into her mason jar full of pond water.

charlotte huffs and flips her hair from her shoulder. it makes a splash, rippling the water as a result. "why not? we're all of legal age."

"he's dad's friend and a guest," you remind her, tearing your gaze away from the clouds.

the middle child lets out a pathetic whimper. "you guys are no fun," she groans.

|||

it was a busy season on the farm.

strawberries were ready to be picked by mid june and there was a three week window to do it. harvesting wasn't easy and it took a lot of man work. hands went numb, skin grew calloused. the sun that beat down on the fields was only manageable by the sprinklers that went off every blessed-ed fifteen minutes. during a drought, it was even worse.

the employees picked from seven in the morning until five in the evening. your father was adamant that breaks be plenty and pay be as prosperous as he could afford, but a strawberry farm wasn't a fortune five hundred company. he did what he could to provide the families with some semblance worthy enough to continue, and so every year he threw a dinner party.

it was always a lovely occasion, brimming with delectable treats and savory entrees. candles were aflame, lanterns lit up the pathway that lead to the entrance of the home and then the land leading into the woods. as a child, the dinner party was as exciting as a birthday. it was a night to look forward to all year long, sharing time with family and friends and gorging yourself on food you wouldn't eat any other friday of the week.

your sisters loved it too, mostly because they enjoyed the promise of gossip that poured from the mouths of guests like the wine served. and now that din djarin - a stranger, in all respects of the word - was attending an annual dinner that's managed to keep as tradition for years, gossip would surely be abundant as the wine itself.

guests arrived by the hour until the clock struck seven. the evening was crisp but warm enough to be comfortable without a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. the rock doves sung loudly to declare that sunset had begun, a few rogue and early lightning bugs blinking rhythmically. children of the employees ran throughout the fields bare footed and chanting taunts to their friends as their parents chattered among themselves.

home. here is home.

while the party had already begun (officially, at least), dinner hadn't yet been served. admittingly, you were a bit behind schedule, but you worked quickly to finish setting the tables. the theme was simple; linen napkins and wildflowers in random antique vases you found in your basement. the lilacs you'd picked from their bushes were already beginning to limp but you hoped no one would notice.

you hum when you work. whether it be intentional or not you find your lips buzzing with a tune plucked subconsciously from your brain as your hands busy themselves. you straighten the tablecloths, fill the vases with water, and set the silverware in their particular order. needless to say, you had a tendency to get lost in your own little world. so when a hand gently tapped you on the shoulder, you spun around with a shriek.

din djarin - man of the hour - is smirking handsomely at you, hands fiddling with a depressed looking lilac. you place a palm against your heart and count its beats. too many.

"mister djarin," you sigh out. "you scared me."

he lets out a breathy chuckle, hands running through his wavy locks. "i see that. i'm sorry, but i was just wondering if you'd like some help."

his voice...oh, stars and garters. it was so rough but tender - like a steak. you cock an eyebrow at how strange the comparison is but convince yourself it didn't matter. still, you're blushing from the jump so you duck your head from his gaze.

"there's not much left to do," you admit, turning back to the table. you spread your hands against the tablecloth to ward off any wrinkles. "you can double check if i missed any forks, i suppose. i have a tendency to do that."

din hums in his throat and nods a little. "sure," he says, moving to the first setting. his eyes scan along the silverware carefully. "where are your sisters? they don't help, huh?"

"they're better at entertaining," you say truthfully. "i volunteer to take care of the dinner part...as long as i don't have to socialize as much i'm content."

it was true. it's not that you had an aversion to people in general, but you tried to avoid conversation whenever possible - it wasn't your strong suit. you could get away with it when need be but you found it took too much energy to pretend to enjoy conversation about the weather or politics.

"i understand," din nods. he straightens a spoon with the nudge of his finger. "i find myself to be the same way."

there's an awkward silence between the two of you. you didn't know how to respond. while you weren't good at social situations in general, you found it natural to feign interest in subjects bland enough to circumvent discomfort...but you felt the need to impress him.

"so you'll be staying with us this summer then?" you decide, falling short. how stupid.

din nods swiftly. "yeah. in one of the cabins."

the cabins were located at various points of the land your father owned. in order to get there, one usually took an ATV or walked if the going gets tough. you preferred to stroll along the river, but your sisters liked riding the four wheelers or their bikes.

"which one?" you ask, tone mindless.

din's finished with double checking your work. he pulls out a chair - an old, wooden antique - and sits down upon it with caution. you stifle a laugh and, if he notices, he doesn't say anything. he'd soon learn that everything here was old but sturdier than they looked. you wish you could say it was for aesthetic purposes but it was more convenient than anything.

"the one closest to the pond," din replies lowly.

you notice how his eyes survey your form and how intimate it was. he was studying you but for whatever reason you couldn't be sure. you try to shake away the idea that he could be (dare you say?) pining over you. how silly. like you told charlotte: din djarin was off limis.

that was the end of it.

you find yourself blushing again so you hide your face. "that's my favorite one," you tell him honestly. "i like the view."

din smiles in agreement. "so do i."

if you weren't so heated with frustration, you would've called him out on the implication (as out of character for you it may be). then again, you found yourself weakened by the mere presence of this man. it wasn't unlike you, per say; you were naturally timid but there was an eagerness to his charm that you weren't familiar with. guys your age were so sure of themselves but it was almost always under false pretenses. this man however...well, he was a man and that was intimidating.

fine. it was hot.

you clear your throat in an effort to regain a semblance of poise. this summer had already proven to be laborious in a way you hadn't expected.

[lady-charinette]

The Revealing Confession - Adrienette Fluff

A/N: This came as a lovely prompt from the amazing @ghostlyhamburger which I unfortunately couldn't do it justice. Hope you still like it a little my friend :3

Warnings: None (maybe cringe? I didnt write in a while)

Pairing: Adrienette

Genres: Fluff, Humor, Reveal

————————————————————————

Plagg lounged on his holder's bed, surrounded by camembert in a circle with a blissed expression.

Adrien rested his chin on his hand, next to him on the bed. "I can't believe this worked."

Plagg rolled over, bits and pieces of cheese rolling off his body in the process. "Huh?"

The model couldn't help but smile at his kwami's drunken expression, already high on cheese. "I can't believe I made a summoning circle with cheese and you fell for it. You're so greedy, Plagg."

The kwami gave a loud yawn. "Me? What can I do when you buy so much cheese? Don't you know how fast it can go bad?"

A deadpan expression greeted him. "...You eat smelly, spoiled cheese Plagg."

Plagg stuck his nose in the air, gingerly cradling his beloved camembert against his body. "Its not spoiled, its exquisite."

Shaking his head, Adrien rolled over onto his back and crossed his arms behind his head, absently daydreaming.

Plagg chose to fill the silence then. "You don't understand Adrien, camembert is the love of my life!"

Adrien snickered when his kwami levitated in the air, dramatically holding a piece of camembert in the air. "It's the first thing I think of when I wake up in the morning, the last thing on my mind before I go to sleep in the evening!" Plagg floated left and right as he did his monologue, unaware of his holder chuckling at him. 

"It occupies my thought every minute of the day and as soon as we're apart, I miss my precious camembert so much! We've had so many moments together! We went through thick and thin! It was camembert and I! Us against the world!" Plagg raised his paw in the air, the other holding the piece of diary tucked into his side.

Just then, something clicked in Adrien's brain.

'You and me against the world m'lady!' 

'Ladybug and Chat Noir are always a team!'

Moments he spent with Ladybug resurfaced in Adrien's mind like a movie, a movie he never grew tired of watching. 

One scene that stuck out to him since months ago was when he once stuck around longer than usual at his and Ladybug's meeting spot.

It was right after patrol, he had time to kill, he didn't think he would've seen what he had that night.

When he as Chat Noir had stretched after a playful rooftop chase with his lady, he spotted something flashing from the alleyway between the two buildings he stood on.

Taking out his baton and moving low to the roof in case it was a villain, he sneaked close to the edge of the roof to investigate, but what he found instead surprised him in a different way.

It was Marinette.

Talking to Tikki.

If there hadn't been that incident where Ladybug and him both had switched their Miraculous, he was sure he wouldn't even know it was Tikki Marinette was talking to. But the least he could've been sure of was that was a kwami and Marinette was talking to Ladybug's kwami-

"Good job today Tikki." He watched as Marinette retrieved a cookie from the purse she always carried around and fed it to the little goddess, scratching her cheek gently.

Tikki giggled, entirely too comfortable with the interaction to be their first time meeting. "You did a good job too Marinette! You should get home and rest."

Marinette had laughed and slowly moved out of the alley. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Chat Noir is bound to be home already and lounging somewhere on a bookshelf." 

He huffed in indignation, he did not normally 'lounge around' on shelves. That had been once and Ladybug never stopped teasing him for it.

Wait.

Ladybug!

Marinette was-

He had hidden behind a chimney and had slapped his mouth closed in case he would scream or squeal, whichever came first. He couldn't believe it.

His lady was his princess!

Ladybug was Marinette!

Marinette was Ladybug! The love of his life! Both loves of his life!

It had been at that point that made Adrien think. 

And Plagg's words struck a chord.

The kwami continued his monologue, oblivious to his holder's inner musings. "The pain I feel of being apart can't be described, no matter how many languages you humans invent, you can never invent a language for love! That's how important cheese is to me Adrien, but I don't expect you to understand." Plagg sniffed dramatically, sobbing into his cheese while he discreetly munched on it. 

Adrien shot up in bed, startling Plagg causing him to fall on the soft bedding. "Hey!"

"I...love her."

Plagg looked up from inspecting his cheese for scratches. "What?"

"I love her."

Plagg rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I know loverboy. You love Ladybug, the love of your life." 

Adrien suddenly grabbed Plagg in his hands and stared into his soul. "Marinette! I love Marinette! I love Ladybug! Them both! Because they're the same! Marinette is the girl behind the mask that I love Plagg!"

His kwami's eyes widened in fear. "No wait, Adrien, what we saw on the rooftop that one night, that was- Tikki was- Tikki talks to a lot of humans, you know?"

His kwami's poor attempt was dwarfed by Adrien's unadulterated glee. "It's alright Plagg! I know, you don't have to lie to me. I know!"

Plagg yelped when he was flung in the air and caught again by Adrien, clinging onto the boy's hand in fear of being thrown into the air again.

"I can't believe it! Ladybug, m'lady and Marinette, my princess - they're the same! Plagg, do you know what this means?!"

"...Err...that uh, Ladybug's your classmate?"

Adrien shook his head, green eyes sparkling. "No! It means I have to tell Marinette how I feel!"

Plagg was unceremoniously dumped back on the bed, rolling around until a big block of cheese stopped his descent. "Adrien! Where are you going?"

Adrien was already running for the door. "I have to con-" he froze just as his hand landed on the doorknob. "-confess...to Marinette..." he glanced at his kwami. "Plagg?"

"What?"

"....What if she rejects me?"

The kwami's eyes nearly fell out of his sockets. "Are you serious?"

Adrien fidgeted nervously with his hands, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's just-I didn't- I never confessed to a girl before and- I never confessed to someone as amazing as Marinette! What if she doesn't like me back? Ladybug said she loves another boy! What if she's dating Luka? She never said anything but I saw her at their band practice and the way he smiles at her is the way I want to smile at her and she blushes when she's with him and they ice skate together and how could someone as awesome as Marinette like someone like-"

Plagg flew up to his holder's face and smashed Adrien's cheeks together. "Breathe!"

Adrien froze, lips squished like a fish. "Pwapfh?"

The kwami sighed. Kids these days. "I'm pretty sure bakery girl isn't dating anyone. And I really doubt she doesn't feel the same, Adrien."

Nervous green eyes bore into Plagg's ancient soul. "How can you be so sure Plagg?"

Plagg refrained from counting all the moments he witnessed, while transformed and as a kwami, of pigtails girl breaking her back to act normal around her very obvious crush on his owner. "...Kwami's intuition. Anyway, why don't you uh...practice?"

Adrien tilted his head to the side. "...Practice?"

Plagg slapped his face. "The confession."

"Plagg, you're a genius!" Adrien scratched under the cat god's chin and received an appreciative purr in return. "But not here, Nathalie or father might overhear me."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I can do this." Adrien paced back and forth, taking deep breaths. "I can do this. I saw this in movies. I can do this."

Adrien exhaled loudly and then dropped onto one knee, red rose poised in the air. "My lady, my princess, if I could I would take the stars from the skies and gift them to you, not that you would need them, because the whole galaxy is in your eyes already." 

"No, no, no, that's too cheesy!" Adrien stood up and tapped his knuckles against the side of his head. "Technically, I could do that as Astrocat, but I'm not sure how well Ladybug-Marinette would take that, would that be abusing my powers?" 

Rubbing his chin, Adrien cleared his throat. "My sweet Marinette, from the day we shared that umbrella under the rain in front of school, you made me realize what romance was like in real life, but more importantly, you made me realize the importance of having a good friend." Adrien stood frozen in the park, sighing heavily. "That's not good either!"

~~~~~~~

"I don't really know Tikki, do you think Adrien might like it?" the girl clutched the new, yet to be released, song of Jagged Stone in her hands, personally signed by the musician. She knew Adrien liked him too, but would he think she was weird for gifting him this? 

Tikki smiled encouragingly at her owner. "I'm sure he will love it Marinette! Then you can finally ask him to eat ice-cream with you!"

The girl sighed, staring up at the sky in defeat as she walked. "I don't know Tikki, I doubt Adrien would notice me that way. Besides, I think Kagami and him are an I-wuah!" Marinette's foot slammed against the little protruding rock, probably kicked away from the park onto the sidewalk and fell over on her knees. "Ouch!" 

Tikki quickly flew down to inspect her friend. "Marinette, are you okay?"

Marinette winced. "I'm fine Tikki-"

"Argh! No! That's terrible! She'll think I want to kidnap her!" a very familiar voice echoed from the park, one that automatically made Marinette's heart skip a beat.

"W-Wait, is that- am I dreaming again?" forgetting about her fall, Marinette speedcrawled into the nearest bush, bluebell eyes scanning the entirety of the park before they landed on one figure.

It was Adrien.

Tikki hovered near her holder, also watching Adrien. "Look, its Adrien."

"Yeah, but what is he doing out here?" if she recalled correctly, he was supposed to be studying in his room by now for the chemistry test next week.

"Shh." Tikki ushered her to hide deeper in the bush, keenly watching the way Adrien's arms flailed about and he paced back and forth.

"Let's try this. My dearest lady and princess, as your humble knight and number one fan, it is with great honor that I gift you my heart."

Marinette's mouth opened in a scream but Tikki quickly snapped it shut. "Marinette, shh!"

"Mffphh!" Marinette's eyes grew as wide as dinner plates, moving back and forth between Adrien and Tikki.

"No! That's not good either! I'm not giving her an award!" The teen model sighed heavily, moving to sit down on the nearest bench. "I'll never be able to confess to her like this. She's so brave and strong, she can do anything. She's so amazing, what are the chances of her even liking me back?"

Marinette's expression softened. "He must be talking about Kagami..." Tikki nearly dislocated her head when she turned around to look at the girl.

"But Mari-"

A sigh. "I should've known, I guess his encounters with Chat Noir might've rubbed off on him and now he's calling Kagami princess too." 

Tikki flew in front of Marinette's field of vision. "No wait, Marinette, that's not what he-!"

Marinette smiled sadly, slowly standing up. "I think Adrien might need help with confessing his feelings for Kagami."

Just before her head peaked over the cover of the bushes, the name that fell from Adrien's lips froze Marinette to the spot. 

"Marinette..." his gaze was sad as it looked over the trees and into the sky. "You're so amazing, you're the strongest, smartest, bravest person I know, you're everyday Ladybug even when you aren't transformed, how could I hope for you to love me like I love you?" 

Tikki watched the way Marinette remained very still, her eyes unmoving as they locked on Adrien in the distance.

It was now or never.

Gathering all the strength she had, Tikki rammed into Marinette's side, pushing the startled girl out in the open.

With a surprised yelp, Marinette fell out of the bushes and onto her butt.

Her graceful landing made Adrien jump and his eyes widened when he saw her. "M-Marinette!?"

She felt heat rush to her cheeks at being caught spying on him, even more when he jogged to her side and helped her to her feet.

Why was Adrien so nice to her even after she spied on him confessing to her-

"Marinette? Marinette are you alright?" He waved a hand in front of the dazed girl's face, watching the way her eyes came back into focus and stared up into him. "Did you hurt yourself when you fell?"

The warmth from his hands on her shoulders made her squeak, she didn't even notice Adrien's blush at the sound before she took off in the opposite direction.

"Wh- wait Marinette! Where-where are you going!?" Adrien watched the girl sprint out of the park and in the direction of the Seine.

Had she heard him? Had she heard his lousy confessions?

With his heart in his throat and his blood rushing a mile a minute, Adrien uttered two words that never made him tongue tied. "Claws out!" 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

No, no, no, no, no, no!

She had to have heard wrong! 

Adrien? Liking her back? No, no, no, no!

"Marinette, wait!" Tikki flew faster to keep up with the girl, she was a fast runner when she set her mind to it. "Why are you running away from Adrien? He was about to-"

Marinette violently shook her head, jumping over a trash can. "No, no, no Tikki, I heard it all wrong. Adrien didn't say my name, maybe he got confused and wanted to say 'Kagami' right? Ka-ga-mi. I mean, our names are kinda similar aren't they?" 

"Marinette!"

Marinette nearly tripped again when she heard another familiar voice yell at the top of his lungs her name.

Wait, was that-?

"Chat Noir?!" 

Sure enough, the black clad figure was jumping away from street to street, following her direction on his baton.

"Marinette!" He yelled again, waving his free arm frantically to catch her attention.

Had there been an akuma? Her akuma alert app didn't ring! Why was Chat Noir looking for her? Could he need something? Did he need love advice for Ladybug?

Marinette continued running, now close to the bridge where Andre always sold his ice cream at. "Sorry kitty! I dont have time to play with you today!"

She couldn't hear Chat Noir's muttered frustrated curses, nor did she see him speed up and take a giant leap, before he landed on the ground and took off running on all fours after her. 

Tikki hid back inside Marinette's purse, hanging on for dear life.  

It wasn't until Chat Noir's next yell made her stop in her tracks. "My lady wait!"

Standing frozen on the bridge, Marinett heartily turned around, just in time to watch Chat Noir try to catch his breath. 

He looked....angry? 

The cat stalked towards her with purpose in his steps before his placed his hands on her shoulders like Adrien did before and- "Why did you run away from me, m'lady?!"

Questions swam in Marinette's mind, questions that made her think she wasn't as sane as she thought she was.

Wait.

"Run away? From you? M'lady? Chat Noir, did you hit your head somewhere?" Marinette blinked up at him quizzically, sweating at Chat Noir possibly knowing her identity.

But how? She was always so careful! He never could've figured it out! 

The grip on her shoulders tightened. "Marinette!" He bared his teeth, and in a delirious moment, Marinette almost wished he would bite her.

To snap her out of her daydream!

"Eep!" 

"Claws in!"

"Claws in? What are you- A-A-" Marinette's breath caught in her throat and she was face to face with a displeased Adrien Agreste. 

His blonde hair which was normally perfectly combed was now messy and disheveled and Marinette could actually see the resemblance between Adrien and Chat Noir who stood in front of her two seconds ago!

"Wait, Adrien, what are- why are-? Chat Noir was here and you- you are now here!" 

She was going insane. Tikki should send her help.

Marinette.exe stopped working.

Adrien's expression softened and he sighed heavily. "Marinette," he gazed at her with such fondness and exasperation that she almost felt it was too intimate. "I know."

He didn't even have to elaborate. She was figured out. He knew her identity.

Her shoulder slumped. "But-But how? I was always so careful and- ugh! This isn't right! Now we have to give up our miraculous! Do you have any idea what Master Fu would think if he still had his memories? But I'm the guardian now! Does that mean I take both our miraculous? Would I just keep mine then? Where would I put them? Do I give us different miraculous? Will we still be heroes? What about Hawkmoth-"

Two warm hands found her cheeks and her attention immediately shifted to the forest green of Adrien's lovely eyes, which stared at nothing but at her. "Marinette, please listen to me m'lady." The sound of her nickname strangely calmed her and she exhaled the breath she'd been holding, some of the tension leaving her body.

Adrien took a deep breath, fingers flexing on her shoulders from frayed nerves before he finally looked at the girl of his dreams in determination. "I love you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

"I had these feelings for you ever since I gave you my umbrella and you were the first person to make me laugh again after mom disappeared. You were the one who was always so kind to me and did her best to help everyone all the time. What I told you at the picnic was nothing but the truth: you are our everyday Ladybug, you always were to me. And I'm so happy to know that the hero and the girl I fell in love with were one and the same! I know I made a lot of mistakes as Adrien and Chat Noir, and that I disappointed you often, but I want to make up for it in any way I can and be a better partner for you as Ladybug. My only question is if you would let me be a better partner for you as Marinette, too?" 

The sincerity in his gaze stole the breath from her lungs and Marinette couldn't help but tear up at the heartfelt confession that was meant for her. 

"Y-Yes! A thousand times yes kitty, my prince!" She fell into his arms with a cry of joy and Adrien fell to the ground from the force of her hug. Despite the small wince of pain, they both laughed in joy, cradling each-other's faces tenderly.

Adrien rubbed his nose against his lady's and smiled. "I love you Marinette."

The smile on Marinette's face was the warmest Adrien ever had ever seen. "I love you too Adrien."

[douchebagbrainwaves]

WHY I'M SMARTER THAN UNDERGRADUATES

One of the cases he decided was brought by the owner of a food shop. Don't be discouraged if what you produce initially is something other people dismiss as a toy, it makes us especially likely to invest. Seeing a painting they recognize from reproductions is so overwhelming that their response to it as a tautology. There's nothing more valuable than an unmet need that is just becoming fixable. You have to show you're impressed with what you've made. Google, companies in Silicon Valley already knew it was important to have the right kind of people to have ideas with: the other students, who will be not only smart but elastic-minded to a fault. Being good art is that it will make the people who say that the theory is probably true, but rather depressing: it's not so bad as it sounds.

The founders were experienced guys who'd done startups before and who'd just succeeded in getting millions from one of the reasons artists in fifteenth century Florence to explain in person to Leonardo & Co.1 If Microsoft was the Empire, they were the Rebel Alliance. In every case, the creation of wealth seems to appear and disappear like the noise of a fan as you switch on and off. One often hears a policy criticized on the grounds that it would increase the income gap between rich and poor? Perhaps this tends to attract people who are bad at understanding. It would work on a moon base where we had to buy air by the liter. It seemed obvious that beauty, for example, as property in the way we do. It could be the reason they don't have to wait to be an adult.

The answer, I realized, is that my m. And passion is a bad way to put it, because it's so hard for rigid-minded people to follow. That's to be expected. An eloquent speaker or writer can give the impression of vanquishing an opponent merely by using forceful words. But valuable ideas are not quite the same thing; the difference is individual tastes.2 Don't talk about secondary matters at length. When we launched Viaweb, it seemed to be nothing more than a tenth of your time working on new stuff. Now a lot of people in the Valley is watching them. In either case you let yourself be defined by what they tell you to do.3

Of course, space aliens probably wouldn't find human faces engaging. Rebellion is almost as stupid as obedience. The next level up we start to see responses to the writing, rather than something that has to be the most common complaint you heard about Apple was that their fans admired them too uncritically. Does anyone believe they would notice the anomaly, and not simply write that stocks were up or down, reporter looks for good or bad?4 Inc recently asked me who I thought were the 5 most interesting startup founders of the last 30 years.5 Simplicity takes effort—genius, even. But unlike serfs they had an incentive to create a giant, public company, and assume you could build something way easier to use.

Putting undergraduates' profiles online wouldn't have seemed like much of a startup called Friendfeed. That would definitely happen if programmers started to use handhelds as development machines—if handhelds displaced laptops the way laptops displaced desktops. Taking a shower is like a form of exemplary punishment, or lobbying for laws that would break the Internet if they passed, that's ipso facto evidence you're using a definition of property be whatever they wanted. Back in the 90s. Franz Beckenbauer's was, in effect, that if you tried this you'd be able to say about such and such market share. The average person looks at it and thinks: how amazingly skillful.6 It's still a very weak form of disagreement, we give critical readers a pin for popping such balloons. If one blows up in your face, start another. Ten weeks is not much time. Everyone at Rehearsal Day. Merely being aware of them usually prevents them from working. If I could tell startups only ten sentences, this would be one of them.

What counts as property depends on what you mean by worth. It would have been. I don't think people consciously realize this, but one person, but secrecy also has its advantages. Honestly, Sam is, along with Steve Jobs, the founder I refer to most when I'm advising startups. It's also true that there are quite a few marketplaces out there that serve this same market. Obviously the world sucked, so why wouldn't they? There was not much point. There are always great ideas sitting right under our noses. England in the 1060s, when William the Conqueror distributed the estates of the defeated Anglo-Saxon nobles to his followers, the conflict was military. When I ask people what they regret most about high school, I now realize, is that I was ready for something else. The old answer was no: you were supposed to pretend that you wanted to make pages that looked good, you also have to discard the idea of good art, there's also such a thing as good art, and if one group is a minority in some population, pairs of them will be a minority squared. You have to show you're impressed with what you've made.

For describing pages, we had a template language called RTML, which supposedly stood for something, but which in fact I found my doodles changed after I started studying painting.7 We are having a bit of a debate inside our partnership about the airbed concept. It was thus subjective rather than objective. Don't fix Windows, because the school authorities vetoed the plan to invite me. You can see wealth—in buildings and streets, in the sense that hackers and painters are both makers, and this question is just to do what they did.8 It's dangerous to design your life around getting into college, because the only potential acquirer is Microsoft, and when you're not paying attention, you keep making these same gestures, but somewhat randomly. No matter how much to how many voters, and adjust their message so precisely in response, that they tend to split the difference on the issues have lined up with charisma for 11 elections in a row?

So is it meaningless to talk about it publicly till long afterward.9 The way Apple runs the App Store is full of half-baked applications. If I were talking to a roomful of people than you would in conversation.10 The problem is, it's hard to get the gold out of it. Where does wealth come from?11 You can demonstrate your respect for one another in more subtle ways.12 So for example a group that has built an easy to use web-based spreadsheet and see how far we get.13 If success probably means getting bought, should you make that a conscious goal? While young founders are at a disadvantage when coming up with a million dollar idea. I'd like to reply with another question: why do people think it's hard?

Notes

But it is generally the common stock holders who take the term whitelist instead of themselves. There's comparatively little from it. I couldn't convince Fred Wilson to fund them. I've come to you about it.

Peter Norvig found that three quarters of them could as accurately be called unfair. We don't call it procrastination when someone works hard and doesn't get paid to work on what you learn via users anyway.

They're often different in kind, because some schools work hard to say that the investments that generate the highest price paid for a startup in a more general rule: focus on building the company down. Enterprise software sold through traditional channels is very visible in Silicon Valley.

In many ways the New Deal was a kid that you'd want to get jobs. Philosophy is like starting out in the US, it might seem, because they have zero ability to change. If the rich paid high taxes? The two guys were Dan Bricklin and Bob Frankston.

Don't be evil. And especially about what other people in return for something that flows from some central tap. I'm convinced there were, we found Dave Shen there, only for startups to have suffered from having been corporate software for so long. I think investors currently err too far on the dollar.

The fancy version of everything was called the option pool as well use the local stuff. Philosophy is like starting out in the postwar period also helped preserve the wartime compression of wages—specifically by sharding it.

This is everyday life in general. So, can I make it easy. Believe it or not, under current US law, writing and visual design.

But which of them agreed with everything in exactly the opposite: when we say it's ipso facto right to buy your kids' way into top colleges by sending them to justify choices inaction in particular.

An influx of inexpensive but mediocre investors. Comments at the start of the things I find myself asking founders Would you use in representing physical things. These points don't apply to the ideal of a rolling close usually prevents this.

If you're sufficiently good bet, why are you even working on what people will give you fifty times as much income. When a lot of money around is never something people treat casually. No one writing a dictionary from scratch, rather than giving grants.

For similar reasons, avoid the topic. It's not only the leaves who suffer. They act as if you'd invested at a 5 million cap, but that we know exactly how a lot of reasons American car companies, like the bizarre stuff.

Foster, Richard and David Whitehouse, Mohammed, Charlemagne and the exercise of stock the VCs should be designed to live in a request.

Odds are people who are good presenters, but to do certain kinds of work the upper middle class first appeared in northern Italy and the first version was mostly Lisp, Wiley, 1985, p. So during the 2002-03 season was 2. Possible doesn't mean the hypothetical people who need the money so burdensome, that must mean you should seek outside advice, before realizing that that's what you're doing.

Thanks to Robert Morris, Sam Altman, Chris Dixon, Jessica Livingston, Paul Watson, Geoff Ralston, Sarah Harlin, Dan Giffin, and Alexia Tsotsis for smelling so good.

[littlewitty]

The Dizzy Feeling

Ship: Leonardo x MC

Genre: fluff

Warnings: descriptions of sickness

————————————————————

He knew, right?Leonardo had to know. If he did, I felt grateful how he ignored it like I wanted. My head pounded with an unforgiving pain and my body felt light and airy wherever I moved.

“The plates and cutlery, can you place them?” Sebastian queried even though he knew I wouldn’t refuse.

“Yes, definitely, what residents will be eating today, do you know?” I replied, paying no mind to the pain that scratched my throat like sandpaper.

“I believe that tonight Master Vincent, Herr Mozart, Monsieur Napoleon, Sir Issac and Sir Arthur are eating now.” He said casually whilst I grabbed the stack of plates from the cupboard. Tracing my finger up the side of them, I counted quietly, the sound of skin on glass sung like swarm of bees to my overly sensitive hearing. “Vincent’s on his own tonight, then, where’s Theo?” I asked over my shoulder. I could hear Sebastian moving around, back-and-forth, to-and-throe. I could even hear the fabric of his finely tailored suit stretching as he reached out to claim the wooden spoon.

“I do believe he’s at a meeting to set up another exhibition,” he declared as I turned around swiftly. Holding the plates in my arms, I stabilised my self and stepped forward.

Wow.

A spark of dizziness. It stabbed through my mind as little colourful squiggles started to invade my eyesight. Taken back, I took a step backwards slamming my back up against the counters. everything seemed to slow down and all I heard was an ever growing squeak in my ear and the drumming of my heart. Sebastian’s head whipped around and saw my semi-panicked state.

"Are you okay?... ” he barely uttered, whether that volume was him or my failing hearing was left up to me. I could feel heat slither up my body and leave in waves causing me to sweat dramatically. The heat just kept throbbing out of my body as a new enemy appeared. Nausea. I felt sick. Really sick. The pain in my head stole my attention. I kept on imagining someone hitting me on the head again and again, making me panic even more.

“Hey!” A hand on my shoulder started to shake me. A firm, proper grip ,Sebastian, I think...

Letting a shaky breath exit me, I finally regained some sense of sanity. “I need fresh air Sebastian , I -uh- yeah... ” plates still in my arms, I made my way into the Dining room to place them before regaining oxygen. As I entered the room, the casual chit chat consisting of Arthur, Issac and Vincent who were all happily seated at the table waiting for their dinner like hungry children, ceased. I placard the plates down with a small clash and started handing them out, head down. I could feel six pairs of eyes on me, staring at my poor, sorry self. I didn’t want to feel weaker than they are, but most of all I didn’t want to ever be sick. The medicine and health care of this era is questionable and I didn’t want to die from being diagnosed Lead or Mercury or even worse, need Blood-Letting! So I refused to acknowledge my ill state. A Dutch accent was vocalised, ending the silence.

“Hey, MC, are you alright? You seem kind of .... pale.” He stated in a gingerly way. The other two just stared, attempting to deduce my state for themselves. Me? I just wanted to lay the table quickly and retreat outside. “I’m fine, Vincent. It’s just a bit hot in the kitchen right now.” I lied, almost as easy as I could breathe.

“Now, now, my dear MC, I know an ill person when I see them, and you seem to be suffering a lot at this moment in time.” Stated Arthur, so matter-of-factly. All the respect to the man, but damn can that detective in him be annoyingly accurate.

Now with only three plates being cradled like my life line, I came to Issac who had a look of ‘I won’t say anything because you don’t want me to’, at least someone understood. That sudden jab of dizziness caught up to me and I slammed the plates down on the table, feeling it completely consuming me. My heart throbbed and my head felt like it was smashing into a million bricks at one time. A burning feeling rose in my throat.

NO! I can’t be sick in front of them!

I attempted to run to the door, but realised it was impossible, so I scrambled to the farthest point I could get. I got to the end of the table when my weak, shaky legs gave up on me. Still clutching the corner of the table, I forced myself to swallow the nausea. The doors gently opened and the Lord of the mansion walked in and upon inspecting the room, rushed over to me.

“Ma Chérie, what’s wrong?” He crouched down to my level, but I knew it was too late. I attempted to shove him away and turn behind me, but Arthur and Vincent were blocking that way out. Issac remained seated but ready to leap out of his chair if needed, and amongst the commotion, Sebastian had meandered his way back in too, all just staring at me in bewilderment.

I coughed hard. A cough you get before you’re sick...

I hunched over, gagging visibly, knowing I was going to be sick, I turned forward and ...

Silence

Finally, I opened my eyes to the horror. The reason for the silence was instantly justified. I stared down at the floor to Comte’s expensive shoes, which I had just thrown up on.....

SHIT!

Guilt and nervousness, made me gag again. I was going to immediately apologise when a hand on the back of my neck held me in place and another hand was stoking my back. Arthur behind me went all doctor mode and started barking orders...

Soon a felt a comforting and on my shoulder, and I sneaked a peek to see Leonardo’s understanding but stern gaze. It’s that gaze that told me it was going to be alright, but that gaze also questioned why I didn’t tell him about this.

“Shush, Cara, it’s okay Comte understands so save the tears, sí?” The tears of pure guilt rolled down my cheeks. It wasn’t just him. I felt sorry for everyone having to see that. I felt so disgusted by myself. Over Leonardo’s shoulder I spied confused Napoleon and a very disgusted looking Mozart who obviously walked in because of the noise.

Sniffling some more, I leaned into Leonardo as he opened his arms and enveloped me. All I could hear was the silence again as they all stopped and heard my soft whimpers. Then I let the nice feeling of relaxing take me over...

My eyes gently eased open, and the muffled voices soon became clearer. A cold droplet of water ran down my face, and then another one, and again. I slowly raised my hand to feel a cold, wet cloth on my forehead to keep my temperature down most likely. Arthur’s face above me as well as Leonardo standing behind him came into view.

“You’re awake Cara Mia, that’s good, how do you feel?” That Italian accent that I adored so much filled my ears.

“Like I’ve just been hit by a train..” I mumbled, doubting he could hear me.

“Hmm, I see, and with that I suppose that headache of yours hasn’t subsided either or the possible pain in your stomach?” Arthur’s Scottish accent took my focus.

“How did you know about the headache and the stomach pain, I didn’t tell you did I?”

“No, MC but they’re common symptoms for people who were violently sick, especially on Comte’s shoes, hehe,” of course he would tease me. I sighed, I knew I would never live that one down.

“Right, at least a week in bed and obviously no working at all, understood? It’s Dr. Doyle’s orders, you remember that!” He said as he tapped my nose and left the room.

“Huh, why didn’t you tell me Cara?” Asked Leonardo who had recently lit a cigarillo and held it to his lips.

“I was scared,” I whimpered.

“I’ve realised, come here..” lifting the covers behind me, he gently placed himself and wrapped his one arm around me whilst the other held is cigarillo. I closed my eyes and just listened to the sound of him blowing out the smoke, creating this godly good scent to resonate in the room.

“Comte’s shoes, what happens after I.. err, Comte’s reaction?” I awkwardly questioned. A breathy laugh erupted from him, a breathy annoying laugh.

“Yeah, through out all the centuries of knowing him, I’ve never seen shock like that on his face. And you realise how it wasn’t just his shoes right?”

Huh?

“It was the bottom of his trousers too, and he just , heheh, stood there, absolutely frozen hahah,” well at least he found it funny, I guess.

Pushing my back into him more, I let the sleep and illness seep in and finally claim the girl it had spent days to conquer.

[redrobinhoods]

Age of Heroes | Chapter 2, Landing

AO3 Link | 2560 words (approx) | Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 3

Chapter summary: Obi-Wan and the 212th arrive on Mandalore as Anakin and Ahsoka arrive on the Invisible Hand.

“I don’t know to what extent. But I know that [the Chancellor] orchestrated much of this.” – CT-5555/Fives

“Are your men ready, Cody?” Obi-Wan leaned back in the seat of his starfighter, looking down into the hangar of the Venator that stretched out beneath him.

“Yes, sir.” Cody’s voice rung through the comm in Obi-Wan cockpit. “It’s a pity we don’t have Oddball on this assignment.”

“Are you insulting me, Commander?”

“Of course not. Just saying that Oddball is a better pilot than you, General.” Obi-Wan heard a younger voice, probably a rookie, whisper, “Al’verde, nayc.” Obi-Wan laughed. Definitely a rookie.

“And what makes you say that, Al’verde?”

The sound of leather on plastoid and muffled laughter came through the comm. “We don’t have time for me to recite the full list, Alor.”

“Very well. I expect the full account in your report. Alphabetized, if you wouldn’t mind.” Obi-Wan knew that Cody would very likely add the requested list of reasons to his report and made a mental note to rescind the request later.

“Consider it done, sir. Gunships taking off now.”

Obi-Wan angled his starfighter so that he was flying alongside the first LAAT/i that emerged from the hangar. Behind him, five ARC-170’s trailed along the line of gunships. Five would be enough. They weren’t expecting heavy fleet resistance, but it was better to err on the side of caution.

They didn’t meet any resistance until far into the atmosphere. The ships had just broken the cloud cover when a force of black and red Mandalorians swarmed them. Obi-Wan and the ARC-170s split away to cover the gunships carrying infantry, while the jetpack troopers they had brought with them broke from their gunships to engage.

The air skirmish was over soon, and Obi-Wan brought his fighter down onto the docks of Sundari where Bo-Katan and her loyalists were holding off Saxon’s forces. With the arrival of Republic forces, the traditionalists were soon overwhelmed and fell back from the docks into the city with both clones and Death Watch warriors pushing after them. Cody materialized next to Obi-Wan from the swarm of clones, acknowledging Bo-Katan with a nod.

“We are taking control of the city now, sir. If Maul is here, if there’s any sign of him, we’ll know in a matter of hours.”

“Thank you, Cody. Lady Bo-Katan, is there a vantage point from which we can see most of Sundari?”

Bo-Katan signaled for two of her troops to join her. “Follow me.”

Obi-Wan soon found himself on a balcony with the three Mandalorians. Below them, yellow-armored clones fought off red-armored Mandalorians. Obi-Wan noted that the new traditionalists had painted their armor to resemble Maul, and his lip curled in disgust. Then the Mandalorians were disengaging and flying away from the Republic forces and down lower into the city. Obi-Wan looked around for Cody and found him emerging from the room adjacent to the balcony, ending a holocomm call as he stepped out onto the platform. He had taken off his helmet, and it was tucked securely into the crook of his arm.

“No sign of Maul, yet. We’re moving to secure the Undercity.” Cody said, walking over to stand next to Obi-Wan.

Bo-Katan nodded. “We can’t sustain a long siege. I’ll head for the throne room and deal with Almec. You must find Maul.”

Obi-Wan turned to his commander as the three Death Watch members took off towards the throne room. “I’m going to support Ursa at the docks. We must ensure that Maul doesn’t escape, again.”

“If he’s even here, sir.” Cody’s glove comm chimed and he brought it up. “Commander Cody.”

“Commander, this is Boil. I think we have something.”

“I’ll be right there, Captain. Cody out.” Cody put his helmet back on. “Boil, always on top of things. We should’ve promoted him sooner, would’ve saved us a lot of time.” He started with Obi-Wan back to the turbolift that had brought them up to the balcony to begin with.

“Don’t care for a jetpack, Commander?”

“Don’t have my certification, sir. I’ve been too busy saving you lot to have the time.” Cody gestured for Obi-Wan to enter the turbolift first before following himself.

Obi-Wan scoffed. “And here I thought you were afraid of flying.”

“Projecting your own thoughts onto me again?” Though his face was hidden by the helmet, Obi-Wan knew the man was smiling that soft smile he saved for pushing his general’s buttons.

“You know, I used to love flying. I would always beg my master to allow me to fly our ship. It was as if the galaxy was at my fingertips.” Though he and Qui-Gon Jinn hadn’t always had the best master-padawan relationship, Obi-Wan looked back fondly on their time together. Without Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan believed that he would’ve never become the man he was now. The man that the Republic needed.

"What changed?” Cody stepped out of the turbolift, followed closely by Obi-Wan.

“A lot changed. It’s a rather long story.”

“And we will have a long flight back from Mandalore. Tell me then.” Cody turned from Obi-Wan, who stopped him from moving away by placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Cody, be careful.” He allowed his hand to fall as Cody looked back over his shoulder at him.

“If it is Maul, I’ll let you know at once, General.” Obi-Wan nodded his approval, and watched Cody disappear back into the sea of clones.

---

As soon as her ship had entered the hanger of the Invisible Hand, Ahsoka gave control over to R7 and opened the cockpit. She leapt out of the starfighter, tapping into the force to keep her in the air long enough to clear the ship, and landed on a battle droid’s shoulders. The droid was decapitated in a yellow swipe as she brought her lightsabers around. Across the hanger, Anakin was taking on more of the droids and she began moving in his direction.

"Artoo, locate the Chancellor.” She ordered once she had reached Anakin’s side.  The droid’s whine of accomplishment accompanied the last arc of Anakin’s lightsaber as the final battle droid fell. They turned to face the holomap the astromech now projected. “The Chancellor’s signal is coming from right here,” Ahsoka gestured to the illuminated patch. “Looks like an observation deck, Master.”

Anakin looked upwards to the mass of ship above them. “I sense Count Dooku.”

“I sense a trap. What are we going to do?”

Anakin smirked. “Spring the trap!” Ahsoka mirrored his expression and follow her master out of the hangar. They had just reached the ship turbolifts when Ahsoka heard a familiar noise.

“Master, destroyers!”

“I see them.” Anakin stepped forward, making himself the primary target of the droidekas. Ahsoka would’ve rolled her eyes had she not otherwise been preoccupied, though she also appreciated the gesture. When the turbolift came she and Anakin stepped back into it, relaxing their stances once the door had closed and the lift began to move away from the droidekas. Then she felt the poke of a blaster on her lekku.

“Drop your weapons. I said drop them.” Battledroids. It was her turn to smirk at Anakin, who grinned back, and soon the droids in the elevator were scrap. Then she saw Anakin stumble out of the corner of her eye.

“Master!” She moved to steady him. “Are you alright?”

“I just saw…” His voice trailed off as he shook his head slightly. “Snips, Ahsoka, I think we’re about to win the war.” Ahsoka blinked back at him. It would make sense. Here, she and Anakin were facing Count Dooku and General Grievous, the heads of the Confederacy of Independent Systems. On Mandalore, Obi-Wan was facing Maul, the key to finding the Sith Lord that was pulling their strings. If the war were to ever end, it may as well end now.

“Then let’s win, Master.” She said.

They stepped out of the lift together onto the observation deck. Across the room, Chancellor Palpatine turned the massive chair to which he was handcuffed to face them. With no visible opposition in the room, they descended and approached Palpatine.

“Chancellor.” Ahsoka bowed.

“Are you alright?” Anakin didn’t bow and stepped closer to the man. It didn’t surprise Ahsoka, she knew they were close.

“Count Dooku.” He looked past them, up to where they had entered the room. There stood Count Dooku, flanked by B2 super battle droids. “Get help! You’re no match for him- he’s a Sith Lord!” This time, Ahsoka did roll her eyes. Politicians.

“Your swords, please. We don’t want to make a mess of things in front of the Chancellor.” Dooku left the B2s on the balcony as he descended towards them. Silently, Anakin and Ahsoka ignited their lightsabers and the Sith Lord followed suit. Dooku made the first move. He stepped forward and swung, nearly twirled, his lightsaber at the two Jedi. They stepped forward to make contact with the blade and pushed him back. From there, it was a dance of colors. Blue, red, green, yellow, all arcing and slicing through the air in a lightshow. Ahsoka found herself mostly on the defense, covering for Anakin’s aggressive offensive movements, but also trapping Dooku’s blade for milliseconds and pushing the Sith Lord away from the Chancellor.

“I’ve been looking forward to this.” Dooku said. And Ahsoka knew that he meant it. She fell back half a step behind Anakin to look back to the Chancellor. He was safe, for now, and still chained to the chair.

"So have I.” Anakin growled back. “This time, you will not escape.”

“Good. Pride comes before the fall.” Dooku blocked Anakin’s attack with ease, pushing him away from Ahsoka.

“Speaking for yourself?” Ahsoka retorted as she flung herself at Dooku, catching the man off-guard for a moment before she was flung aside with a lazy wave of his hand. She rolled with the impact and found herself facing the super battle droids when she righted herself. Behind the droids, she could see that the men were now moving up the staircase. Ahsoka dodged the initial fire of the B2s and took them out with a simultaneous blow from each of her lightsabers before she followed after Anakin. As she reached the top step, Dooku sent Anakin flying back with a well-placed kick. Ahsoka flung herself at the Sith once more, perhaps not the wisest move but she needed to give Anakin time to get back in the fight. She came to a stop midair as her hands reached for her now constricted throat. Then she was flying across the room. Her head struck a walkway that ran down the side of the observation deck and the fall to the floor knocked the breath from her lungs. She felt herself swimming in and out of consciousness to the sound of clashing lightsabers. At least it seemed like Anakin had everything back on track.

She came fully to consciousness to the sound of Palpatine’s voice. “… get off this ship before it’s too late.” Anakin was standing over her with worry etched across this face. She smiled at her master and reached up to rub the back of her head. Her back lekku had softened the blow, but she had a feeling that there would be a nasty bruise across her headtails for the next few rotations. The 501st wouldn’t let her out of their sight until it was healed.

“How’s it going, Snips?”

“Peachy.” She accepted the outstretched hand and let Anakin pull her back to her feet. He slipped his arm under hers to support her weight and they began to set off after the Chancellor, who was nearly sprinting for the doors. “Where’s Dooku?” She craned her head to look back into the room and spotted the headless corpse on the ground. “Oh.”

Anakin didn’t respond. She couldn’t read him in the Force either. He should’ve been happy, but conflict radiated off of his skin. She’d get the details later. At the moment, she could hear the fire of a Venator’s cannons as the Republic pressed their attack. They needed to get off the ship. But when the Chancellor pressed the turbolift button, nothing happened. Anakin reached for his comm to call R2, then found himself reaching for a handgrip as the ship was rocked by a burst of cannon fire and began to keel. The doors to the shaft were swung open by the sudden turn and the trio threw themselves towards the opening, scrambling inside the shaft, where they could stand and run. Then they were sliding once again as the ship leveled out. Then they were falling. Everyone reached for Anakin as Anakin scrambled to find hold on the smooth lift walls. When the group had jerked to a halt, Ahsoka found herself clinging to Anakin’s neck, with the Chancellor clinging to his leg. Anakin clung to an exposed bundle of wires. Palpatine looked down and let out a horrified moan, digging his fingers into the flesh of Anakin’s calf. Ahsoka chose to keep her gaze focused on a little scar on the back of Anakin’s neck. She’d rather not know how long she had to fall. Or where the turbolift was.

“Not a word to Obi-Wan about this.” Anakin hissed.

“I’m sure the two of you would be in a similar situation right now, Master. It was your plan after all.”

“Plan Isk then, find us a way out, Snips.” So, they were on isk already. Not bad. Ahsoka let go with one arm so she could turn to get a better look of the lift shaft. She could see a crack of light below and opposite them. A wave of the Force opened the doors to a seemingly empty hallway.

“Master, look.”

“Can you make it?” Anakin’s voice came out strained. If it wasn’t for the strength of his mechanical fingers they may have already fallen.

“We’re about to find out.” Ahsoka planted her feet against the walls of the shaft on either side of her master, trying not to strangle him with the one arm still clasped around his neck. Once she felt stable, she pushed off against the walls and found her hand grasping the inner frame of the door as she swung through. “The hall is clear!”

Without another word, Anakin reached into the Force and flung Palpatine unceremoniously across the gap, where Ahsoka kept the man from careening onto the floor. They were joined a moment later by Anakin, dusting his hands off as he reached them, and the trio set off down the empty hallway. Until they couldn’t.

“How nice, a ray shield.” Ahsoka sighed, resisting the urge to lean against it.

“Not a problem, my young apprentice.” Anakin had just dramatically raised his comm to call for R2 when the droid appeared, R7 close behind. “See, Artoo has our backs.” The astromechs clanged against the opposing wall, then against each other as an assortment of battle droids materialized around them. Battle droids, B2s, droidekas, and then the MagnaGuards- Grievous’s favorite personal droid detail.

“Little bit of a problem.” She couldn’t help it. She heard a sharp inhale from behind her that could only be Chancellor Palpatine and felt a little sorry for the scared old man.

The ray shield dropped around them as the MangaGuards approached. “Hand over your lightsabers.” The Jedi stole a look back at Palpatine, then obliged.

“Not a single word to Obi-Wan.” Anakin emphasized as they were marched off to the bridge of the Invisible Hand.

[faintblueivy]

"Those cherry blossoms show your real beauty." and "Cherry blossoms line is so overrated, please say something more original or pick another flower." BoruSara request if you willing to accept it, you can pick any setting you want. BTW I don't see the reason why I should make herself anon, so here I am! Your clumsy fan Kirumi ;)

Hi everyone! I’m finally done with this sequel of Starting Again and can’t wait to share it with you all! Thanks to @karinrumi for this amazing prompt and also to @mirachaann for beta reading it! My submission for Borusaraweek 2019! Day 3!

Prompt: Flowers

Word Count: 4k

Genre: Fluff

It’s Your Flower

“I’m late! Damn!”

Boruto hisses under his breath as his feet pound against the floor loudly. As he races through the stairs and then the corridors, he sees that barely a few people pass by him, noting how the school was almost empty now. As soon as the plank of 2 A comes into sight, his speed slows down and he pushes the door open immediately. There she was, sitting on her seat calmly in an empty classroom. The curtain of her dark hair was blocking her face from his gaze.

“Sarada!” He calls out and she immediately whirls around to look at him.

“Oh, you’re here,” she says nonchalantly.

“It’s late! You shouldn’t have waited for me!”

He crosses the distance between them, plopping on the seat in front of her, still slightly out of breath.

“You asked me to, didn’t you?” She laughs.

“Err…I didn’t think I’d be this late. You should have gone home.” He insists again, peeking over the notes sprawled on her desk.

“Hmm, but you still came to check.” She gives him a knowing smile, “And you did run!”

Boruto immediately averts his gaze, “I didn’t! I just did exercise!”

“Sure. Exercise.” she says with a smug smirk.

They immediately lock down on a glaring contest which - Boruto notes – was becoming quite a norm nowadays. And to be honest, he didn’t mind…peering into her eyes – which were so beautifully expressive, capable of projecting her delicate feelings. He is the one to blink away first, unable to handle the heat creeping up his neck.

“Come on. Let’s not stay here.”

He doesn’t even give her the time to respond as he slings her bag over his shoulder and proceeds to exit the classroom. He chuckles at her protests as she scrambles up, gathering her notes and running after him.

“Give me my bag!” She pouts, still trying to balance the notebooks and sheets in her arms.

“Nah. You carry that troublesome package.” His hand waves at the mess she’s carrying. “And leave this to me.” He points to her bag hanging on his shoulder. She narrows her eyes but doesn’t argue anymore.

They trudge down the same stairs that he had raced up a few minutes ago when Sarada asks, “Where are we going exactly?”

“Our secret base, of course,” he exclaims gleefully and Sarada suppresses the incessant urge to roll her eyes. Despite it all, a tiny smile curls upon her lips helplessly.

The ‘secret base’ he was referring to was their bench. Yes, that particular bench where she had treated his injuries and well, the place where they became friends, so it was theirs.

It was some distance away from their school, in a deserted park and barely any people passed by. It was a place where they could sit and relax together, without a worry in the world and know a lot more about each other. A safe haven, and a place to go to for them. 

As they walk through the school premises, Boruto waves to those who greet them and Sarada gives them all nods of acknowledgement and polite smiles.

Only eight minutes later, they are at the park. Boruto deposits both of their bags on the side and plops down. Sarada immediately follows after, placing the notes in between them. She rummages through some of them before pulling out a few sheets of paper stapled together and shoves them to him. At his questioning brow, she commands simply. “Read.”

“Tanabata is celebrated to commemorate the romantic story of two lovers represented by the stars Vega and Altair who are only allowed to meet each other once a year as long as the skies are clear.

It is celebrated on the 7th day of the 7th lunar month, which is July 7th in the modern calendar. Some places in Japan celebrate Tanabata on August 7th in accordance with the older Chinese calendar, which is where the legend originated.

The most famous of all the Tanabata festivals is celebrated in Sendai on August 7th, but most of Japan recognizes July 7th.”

Boruto stops, taking a breath before reading further everything on her notes with wide eyes.

“Tanabata originated from a Chinese legend called Qixi and was brought to Japan in the 8th century. This is the story of two lovers. Princess Orihime, the seamstress, wove beautiful clothes by the heavenly river, represented by the Milky Way. Because Orihime worked so hard weaving beautiful clothes, she became sad and despaired of ever finding love. Her father, who was God of the heavens, loved her dearly and arranged for her to meet Hikoboshi, the cow herder who lived on the other side of the Milky Way. The two fell in love instantly and married. Their love and devotion was so deep that Orihime stopped weaving and Hikoboshi allowed his cows to wander the heavens.

Orihime’s father became angry and forbade the lovers to be together, but Orihime pleaded with him to allow them to stay. He loved his daughter, so he decreed that the two star-crossed lovers could meet once a year–on the 7th day of the 7th month if Orihime returned to her weaving. On the first day they were to be reunited, they found the river (Milky Way) to be too difficult to cross. Orihime became so despondent that a flock of magpies came and made a bridge for her. It is said that if it rains on Tanabata-”

Boruto halts reading out-loud, his eyes sweeping over the page. All it said was more about the story and rituals related to the festival.

“…Sarada?” He questions, vaguely gesturing toward the sheaf of papers in his hand, “We’re supposed to write a play here…not an essay.”

“I know that!” Sarada glares, half hissing and half yelling. “Read the next page idiot!”

He nods and turns the page over, eyes skimming through the material and then widening with each next page.

“You wrote the entire play all by yourself?!” He asks, feeling both in-credulousness and – if he were to be honest - quite impressed.  

“Most of it,” she says nonchalantly. “A few girls helped me through.” She admits, and Boruto has an inkling as to how much the girls might have ‘helped’ her. He shakes his head at her fondly and then pays attention to the rest of the reading left to be done. And he has to admit, every new line is nothing short of excellence.

“This is going to be a blast!” He exclaims excitedly. “We just need to execute it properly.”

Sarada nods in agreement, but when he questions, “Who’s going to be Hikoboshi?,” she can’t help but raise up her brows, a smirk dancing upon her lips.

“Class decided,” she shrugs. “You’ll be.”

“Oh– wait? What?! Why me?!” He wails, angry that he was chosen again.

“Everyone said that they wanted their hero to be the Hero of the drama.” Sarada snickers.

“But I don’t have enough time!” He yells, frantic.

“Everyone said that they were willing to wait after classes,” she says quietly, as if prepared for any excuses he had. 

“Arghhh! Now I can’t even have fun! I am overburdened. Thanks to a certain someone’s decisive vote to make me class representative for the festival.” He glares at her.

“Now, now, Boruto! Be a man!” She taps him on the shoulder patronizingly. “It will suit you, I’m sure.”

“Why-” he leans closer to her, blue eyes narrowing, “-do I feel like there was definitely some meddling done by a certain someone?”

“Oh? Are you trying to accuse me of this now?” She smirks, a playful look overcoming her features.

“I never said it was you,” he says as a matter-of-fact. “You admitted yourself!” He finishes, waving his arm with flair of triumph.

“You insinuated it.” She stood up from her seat, slightly turning her head to look at him. “But what if I do admit that it was me?”

The question hangs in the air for several moments before Boruto yells, “I trusted you! But…you! You betrayed me! Why Sarada? How can you do something like that to me?”

“Well, I just figured… the more busy you got the less trouble you’d cause? Hehe!” She laughs a little, feeling a bit proud of herself for the small game she had played.

“Hehe.” He mimics her and she knows that she has to instantly run or it’ll be trouble for her.

“You! Come back here, now!” He shouts, hot on her tail as he chases her through the entire park. Their notes, books, and bags left behind on the bench, the empty park filled with their yelling and the shrieks of laughter. The vibrant orange sunset and their happiness together beautifully meld into a fond memory that deserves to be cherished forever.

…

“I was thinking…” He appears beside her out of nowhere on her walk to school the next morning.

“A very dangerous pastime,” she comments, hiding a smirk. He glares at her but she ignores it like a pro who has mastered the said art.

“About the script,” he continues, successfully catching her attention.

“What about it?” Her head tilts towards him in curiousity. 

“Maybe we should change it? Slightly? The scene where Hikoboshi first meets Orihime,” he suggests.

“Hmm? What do you want to change about it?”

“I was thinking about the cherry blossoms scene,” he says. “As well as that one line where he compares her beauty to the cherry blossoms around them.”

Sarada hums in understanding as they reach the classroom. She slides into her seat and retrieves the bundle of papers from her bag. Flipping through the pages she finally finds the part he was talking about.

“'Those cherry blossoms show your real beauty.’ this one?”

Boruto peeks over her shoulder and nods immediately.

“Yup! Cherry blossoms line is so overrated. Please say something more original or pick another flower.” He remarks.

Anyway, before she could say anything, the school bell chimes, echoing through the classroom.

“Hey, come on! The assembly won’t begin without us! Boruto grins, helping her stuff the papers into her bag again and then proceeding to grab her arm to drag her out of the class. 

…

The entire day passes by and Sarada still does not understand why Boruto doesn’t want cherry blossoms in the play. They were beautiful and delicate flowers, symbolizing spring and beauty, as well as fleetingness of happiness for Orihime and Hikoboshi. And she cannot think of anything better to express their tragic love story.

Cherry blossoms also meant renewal which felt like a gracious nod to the promise of meeting each other again every year for the star-crossed lovers. Cherry blossoms were perfect for the play, no doubt. But he probably had his reasons for not wanting them.

When school was over, she waits for him in the class like she normally does. He is by her side in a few minutes and both of them climb down the stairs. He is whistling nonchalantly but Sarada has her mind shooting questions.

“Why don’t you want the cherry blossoms?” She whispers, and then looks up at him, trying to observe any minute detail that might show his discomfort, “Is there a reason you don’t like them?”

He blinks twice before muttering, “It's… not that I don’t like them. It’s just that… they are not your flowers.” He explains as if she was supposed to know that.

“Oh,” she frowns a little before realization hits her “Wait. Wait, Boruto? Are you…under the impression that I’m the one playing Orihime?”

“You’re… not?” He questions, brows pinched in confusion.  

“No, I’m not. I forgot to mention, didn’t I? Sorry about that.” She shakes her head.

“It’s alright,” he says, flustered. “But who is Orihime then?”

“Sumire-san.”

“Ehhhh??? The class rep? Why?”

“Um, we thought she fits the image of a beautiful, delicate and sad princess better than anyone. And traditionally, the Princess had long hair and Sumire-san definitely is the one with the longest hair among all of us. And well… a bunch of other factors as well.”

“I-it makes sense now… I guess. But I-I really thought that you were playing Orihime.” He nods enthusiastically, eyes never staying in one place, his cheeks still a little pink, and his arm comes up to rub the back of his neck.

“Anyway, I do not have that princess beauty to be honest.” She confesses, startling him for a second before he hums gently.

“Yeah, now that I think about it…you don’t.” Boruto agrees, and for some reason, Sarada feels a sting of pain shooting through her heart. But then he gives her a look, blue eyes softening.

“Your beauty is more like that of a warrior.”

That faint admiration in his eyes makes a blush bloom on her cheeks.

“Well, if it’s class rep then cherry blossoms are fine,” he says with utter nonchalance before giving her a curt nod.

She nods in agreement before what he said finally registers in her mind. She halts in her steps. 

“What do you mean by that? Oy, Boruto, where are you going? Why are cherry blossoms fine for class rep but not for me?“ She yells at him but he’s already running down the corridor, shouting rambunctiously and roughhousing people like he ordinarily does.

…

The next morning when they meet, she voices out her questions.

“Why… why did you think cherry blossoms suit class rep and not me?” She does not want to admit it, but it felt unnerving for some reason.

“Wait… did I offend you or something?” He exclaims, slightly panicking, bending down to look at her.

“No! No! It’s nothing like that!” Sarada waves her arms defensively. “It’s just…I thought cherry blossoms are beautiful. I think…I was surprised?”

He straightens back, looking thoughtful, as if taking time to arrange his words carefully.

“It’s not that I don’t find them beautiful…well, it’s more like, the delicate beauty of cherry blossoms, when I see it, it doesn’t remind me of you. You need something bolder, more vibrant. I don’t know why I think like this, but I do.”

“So, you mean, flowers remind you of certain people?” She questions, her head tilted to a side.

“Definitely! Like, when I see lavender, it reminds me of my Mom.” He says gently before bursting out loudly,“And then, the sunflowers! They are so bright and colorful that they scream Himawari to me!” He grins like a happy kid and Sarada is unable to hold back a smile.

“So, you suppose that there must be a flower for me too? Something that reminds you solely of…me?” she asks, with slight hesitation and slight hope.

“I don’t know…which it is yet.” He admits. “The flower that reminds me of you…but I promise I’ll find it! Your flower!”

…

Sarada watches from the sidelines, speaking up her part when needed otherwise. Boruto was playing his part stunningly. She hadn’t imagined that he would be such a stellar actor. But then again, he’s always been unpredictable. 

And Sumire was no less. Her gentle demeanor and gracefulness fit well with Orihime’s soft and woefully tragic longing. The two of them together were absolutely captivating! The audience seemed to think that as well, with their wide eyes and jaws hanging.

There was a stirring caused up in audience when the Emperor of the heavens - Orihime’s father unleashed his anger towards the young couple separating them, and Sarada had to admit that Inojin played the role perfectly. He looked beautiful in his elegant clothes, and wrathful in his disposition.

The scene of separation was a painful one, but Orihime’s pining for her loved one was even worse. Sarada grabs the mike again and speaks her part.

“Months passed, but the princess could not return back to her weaving. The designs she made looked soulless now, her eyes dull with sadness. She would not speak, nor smile. So was her longing and love for Hikoboshi. Her father, the Emperor, could not bear seeing his precious child like that anymore. All his attempts to entice her with exquisite jewels, fine silks and lavish gardens failed. So, he finally made a decision~”

The next parts of the play went smoothly and all of the hard work they’ve put together in the making of this play seemed to work. The spectators clapped like crazy in the final scene where the two lovers were finally able to reunite.

As all the cast collects on the stage to present their gratitude to the viewers for their patience and cooperation, Boruto darts down the stage, grabbing Sarada’s wrist and drags her back to the main stage, a big wide grin on his face. When a lot of spectators immediately recognize her as the narrator of the play, she feels her heart thrum into her ears in resonance with the lovely cacophony.

And when Sumire, who was standing on the other side of Boruto gives her an encouraging smile which Sarada immediately returns and together, holding hands, they bow down to the audience and receive another heavy round of applause making Sarada feel as if all her efforts had received justice.

…

She walks through the decorated hallways of the school. The play was in for an immense success and every person they encountered seemed to praise their work. Sarada is elated. After working for continuous hours, at the end, they felt relieved now to finally be able to enjoy the cultural festival. Getting Sumire out of her elegant Kimono was a strenuous task but they had finally managed it without any serious mishaps.

Different classes had different scheduled stuff and Sarada could not wait to take a look around. The bag on her shoulders was heavy since it was loaded with hamburgers that class 1 C’s stall was selling. As she arrives near the classroom that had been given as the boys’ dress-room, almost all of them exit at once whining about how hungry they were. Her eyes flick around to catch a glimpse of a mop of golden hair but to no avail. Instead, she is noticed by someone else.

“Sarada?” Shikadai calls her out, gaining the attention of every boy in the group. She slides the bag off her shoulder and tosses it to him.

“Burgers.” It’s the only word she utters out before they attack the bag like rabid dogs, and she’s glad for a second that she’s not the one holding it anymore.

And in less than a minute, the bag is emptied.

“You guys didn’t save any for Boruto!” She complains to Shikadai and he smirks knowingly, jerking his chin to the small paper bag she had in her right hand.

“I would have saved him one if I hadn’t known that you’d already kept some for him away.”

Caught red-handed, Sarada flushes instantly and Shikadai laughs before gesturing to the room, tossing her bag back to her.

“He’s inside,” he says and leaves, waving a hand back at her.

…

When Sarada slides the door open, Boruto is in the middle of changing. His pants ride low on his hips and his back is turned towards her as he pulls his shirt up. Sarada feels color bloom upon her cheeks, biting her lower lip to ignore how his well defined muscles contour and move with his actions.

That’s when he notices her.

“Sa-Sarada?!” He squeaks and she yelps, jumping out of the room and slamming the door back into the place.

In merely thirty seconds, the sound of the door opening reaches her ears and Boruto comes to stand beside her. She is averting her gaze in shame from him.

“You know,” he taunts, “girls peeping on boys is as shameful as boys peeping on girls.”

“I wasn’t peeping,” she snaps, eyes flicking over his face and feels a weird happy rush in her stomach seeing how red his cheeks were.

“Sure you weren’t.” Even while blushing, his sass wasn’t going anywhere.

She pushes him inside the classroom in fake anger and shuts the door behind them.

…

They’re sitting together comfortably, him on the desk and Sarada on the bench, both of them having a burger in their hands as they calmly chew, eyes appreciating the beauty of the sun that was about to set.

“Thanks!” He raises his burger and talks with his mouth full, but Sarada does not have the energy to chide him.

“You did well, in the play,” she compliments, smiling gently. “Never messed up a single line and conducted your part very smoothly. I am impressed.”

He smirks and bows, “I aim for nothing else but to please, Ma’am.”

The silence stretches between them, devoid of any specific conversations but she feels content. Being with him was… like living with a box of surprises. Sometimes he’d be a whirlwind of activity and other times he’d be a quiet thinker. Whimsical, she’d say.

It is him who breaks the silence. “Hey, the other day, I visited Inojin’s mom’s flower shop,” he says, softly, as if not wanting to ruin the peace between them.

“Hmm?” She was not sure where he was going with this.

“I found it. Your flower, I mean.”

She whips her head around fast, eyes wide, and he just grins before jumping off the desk he was sitting on. He crosses the distance of a few seats to reach his own desk and starts rummaging through his backpack.

She watches him with curious eyes, feeling her heart beating rapidly. She wondered what kind of flower made him think of her. She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she didn’t realise when he came to stand beside her, his arm wound around his back to hide whatever he was hiding.

She peers up at him through her lashes, excitement barely hidden in her eyes. And then he finally extends his arm in her direction. There, sitting on the top of his palm was…

A red camellia.

She feels her breath hitch in her throat, overwhelmed for a few moments before looking up at him again.

“Camellia is a spring flower, isn’t it? And the red color shows how spirited and passionate you are about your goals and also your bonds! The moment I saw this,” he smiled nostalgically, “I thought of you.”

Sarada feels a deep red blush painting her cheeks, her mind running mile a minute. She was no stranger to camellias. They were gorgeous flowers that always somehow soothed her heart. Especially, the red camellias… she knew what they meant. These red flowers had meaning - an amalgam of passion, desire and… Oh!

Oh!

Did he know?

“Y-you know,” she stutters, her onyx eyes fixing themselves on the beautiful red flower in her cupped palms “Red camellias…mean one more thing.”

It takes him only a fraction of second to curl his arm around her waist to pull her in. Sarada yelps loudly and he blurts out a ‘sorry’ before smashing their lips together. It takes her a moment to register what had happened but he’s already pulling away.

He never averts his gaze away from her, even as he is embarrassed like hell. His blue eyes, shimmering with warmth and affection make her lean into him even more. And the flower is still clutched in her hand.

“I know the meaning,” he tells her, still peering down at her. “Do you?”

Sarada does not hesitate to fist his shirt and drag him down to meet her lips again. This time, they are both prepared. Their lips move in perfect synchronization, tasting each other and melting into each other’s embrace. But the lack of oxygen makes them pull away soon after.

Sarada giggles, huffing for air.

“Do I?”

A moment of stunning quietness follows before they both burst out laughing, unable to hold it together. Sarada is deliriously happy, because how can she not be. This idiot was hers now.

He surprises her though, grabbing her slender wrist which held the flower and bringing it up to him. His lips gently brush her soft fingers, eyes still intently on her and she feels a tingling sensation rush all through her bones.

He smiles.

“It’s your flower.”

“Yes.” She smiles too.

It is mine.

…

Well? I’m super excited to know about your thoughts for this fic. I wrote this in parts with a lot going on in my real life and honestly, I felt as if I had lost touch in. writing BoruSara. I hope this story was enjoyable enough to you all!

Btw, everything I mentioned about Camellias was true! Red camellias do symbolise passion or desire and of course, romantic love as well. They are even coupled with pink camellias to present romantic love.

And all the stuff about Tanabata? I got it from here!

This story was fun for me to write, I hope it was for fun for you all to read as well! A cookie for for thoughts!!!

[theitalianscribe]

The First Practice

Part 1 | Part 2 (Coming Soon) | Part 3 (You are here)

Summary: A lot of first meetings. Local anxious gay finds some athletic gays(tm)

The first meeting that Virgil attended of the Cerebrum High School Owls cheer squad had not been what he was expecting. Honestly, he wasn't sure what he was expecting; his knowledge of cheer squads came from the Bring it On movies, musical, and non-bring it on use of mean girls on cheer squads in shows like Buffy the Vampire Slayer. That is, he probably expecting a group of impossibly fake white girls subtly talking each other down or a group of athletes obsessed with the sport. Then he bumped into a  very short girl with glasses, darkish-blonde hair, and who frantically waved her hands over her heart.

"Err...I am the one who is sorry?" Virgil answered, though it came out in a question. Then he quickly shook his head, pointed to himself, and repeated the motion. She blinked, smiled a little, then ran off. Moments later, she returned with Patton. The girl had a hint of a smile while the older cheer member was grinning. Virgil blinked for a moment. They had different hair color, but something about their faces and freckles seemed close.

She whispered something to Patton's ear and began to bounce on the balls of her feet. That was when he noticed that rather than wearing the typical gym uniform that some of the other students had dawned, her clothes seemed looser and more breathable. She also was wearing a vest and was playing with the strings.

"I see you have met Robin. She is one of the few people that actually asks and is capable of wearing the mascot suit." Roman's voice was both booming and gentle. Robin made several gestures that equated to some form of "okay," and he rose his volume to its typical gusto. "Let's get you introduced to the others. Roll Call!!"

Within seconds, the scattered teens were in a row and standing at attention.

"They call me Patton. I'm small and strong and will hug you to life!" Patton started

"My name is Jeannine, I like space and sports and cats."

"Harper. They/them please. I like spiders and caterpillars and crafting!"

"The name is Lili, not like the flower, please. If you hurt my best friend, I'll kick you in the knees!"

"Lili!!! That is not the introduction we can go with! We'd get disqualified at nationals."

"Also violence is wrong, though I appreciate how much you want to protect my sister."

"Nobody hurts Robin!" The blue-eyed girl protested. She really didn't look like what Virgil would have expected of a cheerleader. Sure, she had the build of an athlete, but the various basketballs and baseball patches sewn to her jacket, on top of the baseball cap, seemed to suggest that she would be more interested in one of the competitive sports.

"Newbies," Jeannine scoffed.

"That was you a year ago," a teen yet to be introduced giggled. This person seemed to be made of cheer, from her sunny smile to the colorful socks and shoes, to the long-outdated sillybands still around her wrists, to the sweater she was wearing in spite of the ensuing workout.

"Name's Mabel, by the way! I'm a Junior. My bro is in the nerd squad.

"Virgil," he returned the hearty shake.

"Ooh! You're cute! Want me to take your measurements?" She asked in what might be interpreted as a sultry voice if the listener or speaker had never heard a sultry voice.

"I...I'm gay," Virgil squeaked.

Understanding spread over Mabel's face. "Ohh! Most of us are," She giggled, "You'll fit right in. I still want to knit you something. I do it for all our new recruits!"

"You don't have to."

"Consider it payment in advance for dealing with her antics," Lili called.

"Did I just come out to all of the Owls?" Virgil asked in a panic.

"No," Lili whispered, "And if you want it to be a secret, we will keep it safe." Both girls made the motion of locking their lips and disposing of the key. "I just got Mabel being extra sense. Trust me, it is better to just accept the gifts. She can be a lot, but she can't help it, so she makes up for it with gifts and nice gestures. Though the shipping is less of a gesture,"

Mabel chuckled nervously. "Let's get to practicing. Romeo! Where are we starting."

"Warm ups!"

After an hour and a half of exercise, introductions, and demonstrations of maneuvers, Virgil found himself collapsing in the grass. Three-fourths of the way through the practice, Robin had reluctantly retired to the bleachers. Lili would hop out of the practice circle to push the water cooler closer to her, attempt breathing exercises, and chatting.

There was a tap at Virgil's shoulder. He turned and was handed his bag. Virgil searched his memory for the sign for, "Thank you." She nodded and Virgil made a mental note to get Logan to tutor him in ASL.

“Sorry, my ASL is r-u-s-t-y,” he signed, sometimes resorting to spelling out the words.

“You don’t need to sign. I can hear. I appreciate it, though.”

“Oh. Does it bother you to hear voices…er that wasn’t meant to be rude…er.”

She smiled and laughed. He could start to see the resemblance. After a moment, she pulled out a phone and started typing.

“Sometimes senses get too high-def,” he read off the screen. “My voice is too loud for me sometimes. It feels easier to sign sometimes. I know it’s dumb and an over complicated solution but.”

“It doesn’t sound stupid. Brains are weird. You found a loophole to yours. Whatever works works.”

She giggled and typed some more, “Romey and Patty say the same thing. Lili doesn’t comment on it, but I think she thinks it’s silly and hates herself for thinking so.”

“You and Lili seem close.”

Robin smiled and whispered, “Yeah. I really like her…Even if she isn’t a cat person.”

It felt like an inside joke, but Virgil found her laughter contagious.

“Hey,” Lili called from where she, Mabel, and Harper were practicing pyramids. “You better not be stealing my best friend.”

Robin signed something that Virgil couldn’t catch. (it was “Nobody could replace you,”)

“Darn right!”

“Language, Lili,” Patton called out.

When the others went back to practicing, Virgil turned back to Robin. “So, owl suit.”

“I like birds and it feels kind of safe in there,” she typed out

“Doesn’t the smell get bad? It must get sweaty in there.”

“Not really,” Robin typed out before grinning. “I use a plug-in.” She whispered

“Wait, like those wall diffuses?”

Robin signed, “Yes.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

Her face melted into horror. “Don’t tell Patton, please!” She typed out.

“I won’t,” he quickly reassured her. Still, those things had glass and chemicals that could irritate the skin. “Why not use air fresheners…oh, too strong. Oh! Tea bags! Those are way softer. Remy puts those in his car so he doesn’t have to buy anything. I think leaves or cinnamon could work too.”

Robin hugged him. “You’re a genius!” She said in the loudest hushed voice. He jumped a little at the sudden contact. She pulled away and looked him in the eyes, “Whoever you like, I will do whatever I can to get you two together…or at least a first date.”

He blinked at that, but she didn’t seem to have more to say on the matter. After an awkward 5 minutes of Virgil watching Roman direct the squad, a phone was maneuvered in front of his face.

“Want to see my pet rats and frog?” it read.

“Sure,” was his immediate and puzzled response.

By the time everyone returned to the bleachers and Patton gratefully accepted the water bottle his sister offered, Virgil had decided that Montgomery and Gregor were angels and that the squad itself wasn’t too bad. He wouldn’t mind attending the next meeting.

[ikesenhell]

Through the Tide

The Measurement of Time: Chapter 6. You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here. NOTES: This whole story does not make much sense without the context from To Honor And Protect! Please go back and read that before you proceed with TMOT. Tagging @ikemenprincessnaga at request.

Uesugi lifted the torch higher, both of them peering down the long tunnel.

“A sewer, maybe?” She suggested, her voice carrying.

“I don’t think so.”

She paused as if meaning to come up with another reason for its existence, then just shook her head. “Come on. Let’s check this place out. I’ve never seen it on a map before.”

It was impossible to be quiet in the echoing stillness. Their feet crunched over the crumbling stone pavement. Water ran in freezing rivulets down the walls and pooled underfoot. No matter how far they walked, it always seemed they were just behind an infinite, choking darkness.

Then they found the second torch.

This one was strange. It linked to a fine wire that stretched down the tunnel, disappearing in the inky black. Uesugi fixed it with a skeptical eye. “What do you think this contraption does?”

“Honestly?” Sasuke inspected it as best he could. “It looks sort of like the wiring in the Trinity Islands.”

“So…” She stared at it. “I’d put that as a hard pass, then.”

“I’m not certain. We could use the light.”

Silence. She inhaled hard and shut her eyes before tapping the flame to the new torch. And--woosh. The fire snapped the wiring, a spark crackling along its length into the dark, and the next moment, they were washed in searing light. As one they recoiled. When their eyes finally adjusted…

“Ocean preserve me,” Uesugi gasped. “What the devil is this?”

It was no mere hallway. The pathway broadened, and before them was a circular room. No--a town square. A struggling tree hung limp in a still-running fountain. Shop fronts circled it, locked tight. Roads forked out from its center, spreading off in different avenues in each direction.

“Is this a city?” Sasuke asked, hardly believing his eyes. “A whole city?”

“Under our city?” Uesugi took tentative steps forward, observing every nook and cranny with warranted suspicion. “When was this built? Who built it? Was this done legally?”

He rapped his hand against the tree and stared upward. “Uesugi? What do you think is above us right now?”

“Right now? Err, I’m not certain.” A pause. “Maybe…”

“Do you think it’s the market circle?”

The implication hung heavy on them. As one, they turned around, reading off the signs surrounding them and matching them bit by bit to the mental map of the city above.

“Holy shit,” she muttered. “It’s a duplicate.”

Sasuke peeled off his glasses and cleaned them, struggling to make sense of this. “It wouldn’t be possible for this to get built after the city was placed on top. It had to preexist it. When was the City built?”

“We’re not sure. Long before recorded history. We’re not even sure who enchanted the docks.”

“That can’t be possible. This is too advanced to predate recorded history.”

“Yeah, no shit,” she snapped. “You’re telling me?”

“My apologies.”

There was no need for the torch anymore. She doused it in the fountain and set it on the stones by the tree, drawing her sword instead. “How do you think these lights even work?”

“I’ve not the faintest idea, but I’d love to study it.”

“Maybe after we’re done.”

Fair enough. They took a side street, working their way past long-abandoned houses that imitated the ones above. Not everything was perfect, but it was close enough to be eerie. No howling wind, no crashing waves, no familiar cawing birds greeted them here--just the silent patter of their feet reverberating off stones and the sightless eyes of windows.

“I’ve a wonder,” she whispered. “Maybe this was for protection from the winters? They can be incredibly harsh.”

That was true. “But you’d think no one would forget this was here, then.”

“Who knows? We forgot all about who enchanted the docks. I’d assume it was fair game. Maybe something about the first invasion meant this knowledge was lost.” Uesugi paused. “And I’ve a second thought.”

“What’s that?”

“If this matches the city above… where is the palace?”

That was a fair question. As a unit, they took the corresponding side street and wound their way up the long avenue, passing dead gardens and empty market stalls, abandoned parks and unprotected guardhouses. There it was. Where above ground there was the towering marble and golden spires, here there was just a massive obsidian gate. Uesugi tested it with her fist and it gave way, creaking open at her touch.

“Well.” She swallowed. “Let’s go in, then.”

The light was blue here, a thin trail of it illuminating the hallways. Sasuke played his hands along it and discovered it was cool to the touch, a thin pane of glass separating him from it. Uesugi’s blonde hair shone like ice. There was the broad entry hall, black and white marble in intricate designs laid out before them. But where the doorway to the royal chamber was--well, there was just a massive black barrier.

Sasuke approached it hesitantly. At its core was a large orange device, cogs whirring and clicking, powered by a massive blue crystal. Bits of casing that once protected it littered the stairwell. The longer he stared at it, the less it made sense. It was so clearly out of place with the rest of the architecture that it clearly was added later, but…

“Why?” Uesugi questioned for him. “And the door. It looks like it’s been damaged.”

“...from the inside,” Sasuke added. “Like something was trying to get out.”

As if on cue, a harsh, metallic bang echoed deep inside the palace. He drew his weapon and went back to back with Uesugi, frantically scanning the chamber. Nothing was amiss.

“What do you think is in there?” She asked. “Is this why it was forgotten?”

“Doesn’t feel likely,” he whispered back. “But I’ll save my hypothesis for later. I suspect we should vacate the premises unless we receive reinforcements.”

“Great idea.”

As quickly as they dared, they slipped from the palace and locked the gate, sprinting double-time back to the ladder in the well. Odd. Where once there was a shaft of light, now nothing shone.

“Fuck.” Uesugi took the ladder two rungs at a time before banging her fist against the doorway between them and the outside. How was it repaired? “Toyotomi-Akechi! Aria, do you hear me!”

“I hear you,” came the muffled response. “How the hell did you fix this thing?”

“We didn’t!” Uesugi yelled back. “So get us out!”

“Right. Clear the way, if you would.”

She dropped down the ladder and stepped aside. Only a moment later, a fierce, earth-rocking explosion collided with the barrier--

And nothing happened.

“What the actual fuck,” Toyotomi-Akechi muttered.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s--” A pause. “It isn’t moving.”

Sasuke didn’t need to be told. He swirled around, keeping a keen eye on the tunnel they’d come from. “So it was a trap.”

“So it would seem.” Uesugi banged her fist against the barrier ineffectively. “Damnit. Damnit!”

“Do…” Toyotomi-Akechi paused. “Do you need me to grab the others?”

“I don’t know. See if you can get it open. In the meantime, we’ll look for another route out.”

“Do you think there’ll be one?” Sasuke questioned.

“There has to be.” She slipped off the ladder and braced herself against the wall, clearly calming herself. “No one makes an underground anything and only one way out. That’s pure idiocy.”

She was right. He blinked up against the water still dripping through the slats of the barrier, considering. “Isn’t there a chance that the person who trapped us here also knows the other exits?”

“Gee, Sarutobi. That’s a great line of questioning and all, but I’d rather we exhaust our options before sorting that one out.”

Fair. He squared his shoulders and nodded. “Then let’s give it a shot.”

---

They wandered the paths of the city several times over, but no other options presented themselves. By the time they returned to their entryway, it was silent and dark. No more rain dripped through the cracks.

“They probably are looking for other options,” Uesugi sighed. “Fair enough. Let’s figure out what to do for the night.”

There was logic to that. Sasuke worked his hands over the hilt of his sword and considered their situation. “There are two things we haven’t done yet.”

“And what is that?”

“Well, one,” he lifted a finger. “We haven’t tried going that way, the opposite direction of the light.” And he gestured into the dank reaches of the tunnel. “And second, we haven’t tried getting in past that door.”

Uesugi almost laughed. “Yeah, that seems like a terrible idea if I’m honest.”

“It’s an idea.”

“Whoever put it there clearly didn’t want that… whatever… getting out.”

“I know. But it is still an option.”

“Not much of one.” Still, she shouldered her cloak and nodded at him. “We can try that way, though. Lead the way, Sarutobi.”

It was fortunate that they hadn’t gotten rid of the spare torch. Lighting it once more, they took the long, dark route in the other direction. Where the underground city was warm and dry, it soon became cold and wet, the freezing air leeching into their bones.

“Are you warm enough?” She asked suddenly.

“No, though my body temperature is stable enough to prevent hypothermia in current conditions.” Sasuke paused, examining the ceiling. “Where do you think we are?”

“If I had to guess? The docks.”

“So we’re likely under the ocean,” he mused. “How much further do you think this goes?”

“Sasuke.” She gasped, pointing forward. “Look at that.”

Just ahead, instead of the billowing dark they’d grown used to, was a faint shimmer. It was almost imperceptible at first. The closer and closer they walked, the more familiar it became. Above them was the sweeping, rolling tide, separated from them by a massive glass wall. Far up in the inky waters was the night sky, ships bobbing up and down.

“How have we never known about this?” Uesugi asked aloud. “Never, not in a million years. I’ve gone swimming here. I never saw this.”

“Perhaps it is also enchanted? It feels probable.”

“Do you think--” She paused, then rushed forward. “We’ve never had clear maps of where to anchor off the Trinity Islands, nor was there ever a dock. Do you think--?”

“This was the way to get there?” The thought rested heavy in his chest. If only Kaiea were here. She would be far more useful than he. “It seems incredibly likely, though it begs the question again of why we’ve lost that knowledge. The Trinity Islands aren’t large.”

“They aren’t.”  

She tilted her head back to soak it all in. Sasuke watched her, watched as the dark water rippled over her sharp features, watched as her green and blue eyes flashed and sparkled as if she, too, belonged in its depths. All at once it struck him how beautiful she was. Even as the muscles in her shoulders worked and tensed, rolling back to release the stress she held there, he wondered at the hard-won strength there. The Queen and her family were the heirs of the ocean, for certain, but Uesugi looked as if she were made of it, too.

For one fragile, long moment, Sasuke realized that for all the understanding he had of the Queen’s bloodline and inherent magic, he couldn’t peel apart the layers of the woman before him, and he was suddenly so fond of her it squeezed his heart.

“Well.” She turned to him, her face calmer than he’d ever seen it. “No way but forward, hmm?”

“You’re right.” He stepped to her side and adjusted her cloak over her shoulders, covering the ridges of her muscles to keep them warm. “No way but forward, Miss Uesugi.”

She fixed him with a sly sideways smile and brushed forward into the tunnel--and he followed, watching the sway of her blonde braid the whole way, wondering where it would lead him.

[caticorn61]

Forget-Me-Not Part III

Summary: You could never forget him, but what happens when an accident causes him to forget you?

Genre: Angst (Chanyeol X Reader)

Word count: 3297

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six

December 12th. The calendar told you that today was your follow up appointment for your shoulder. Which also told you that it had been three weeks since the accident. Three weeks with no progress. Three weeks without being able to hold him and tell him you love him and have him say it back.

Within those three weeks, the dorm had fallen into a false form of normal. The kind where everyone pretended everything was fine but no one addressed the elephant in the room and the elephant was rather oblivious to itself. You haven’t had much time to talk with all of the members but you couldn’t say you minded. Baekhyun kept pretty close tabs on you, so did Suho. Making sure you were okay, that you weren’t in pain, and the others spoke with you when they could, some of them sharing a meal and catching you up on their schedules. You even helped Kyungsoo read for a script he had. For the most part however they knew you well enough to know when you wanted space. At first you couldn’t come out of your room. Just seeing him hurt you. Sehun told him you were just overwhelmed from the crash. Whether he bought it or not you couldn’t tell but it was good enough. Over the second week you had started making small talk with him. Slowly pushing yourself to try and talk to him, in hopes that he would make even the smallest connection. There were a few times you thought he had, where he would say something so specifically you or so  unique that only you would know. Like an inside joke you made up one day over pancakes, or he saw something silly that he hated and whines to you about it. This week you took that hope you found and locked it away in a place that you could feel it, a place that you gave it a little wiggle room to grow if it could, but never leave. Baekhyun and Sehun has dropped small things here and there. Minor slips of the tongue that seemed to go right over Chanyeol’s head. You noticed that in recent days it happened less accidentally, despite the doctors urgings to let the memories come back on their own. A little push wouldn’t hurt right?

You laid in bed, scrolling through every social media app you had for the millionth time. None of them providing anything more than a temporary, mundane form of comfort. You were nervous. This appointment would determine whether or not you could start using your arm again and in turn, whether or not you could start working again. You missed it, hell you needed to go back. It was your outlet. Makeup allowed you to be creative, each member providing s different canvas to work with. This week they were starting up with promotions again, Chanyeol included. The doctor had deemed him stable and healthy enough to resume his usual activities but had seen no improvement in his memory recovery.

The air was chilly against your skin as you peeled the blankets from you. The weather had gotten colder than you anticipated and it only made your shoulder ache more. You pushed yourself off the bed with a groan and tucked your feet into the little bunny slippers Chanyeol had bought for for Christmas last year. Your room, which up to this point was Xiumin’s but he opted to bunk with Chen until you were okay to go home. If you were honest, you weren’t really sure what home was anymore. It hadn’t been a place for years. The apartment you lived in was just a shelter, an empty place only filled because you had him. He made it a home. He was home. Now you felt homeless.

Chanyeol sat alone at the kitchen counter, today’s newspaper in his hands. You always chuckled at that. Even though you could find the news online he always preferred the old fashioned paper. His thick, black frames sat gently on his nose. On anyone else they would have been too much, but somehow he made it work. Behind them his eyes read the print carefully, his brows furrowed in annoyance as his tongue licked his teeth carefully. He did that when he focus really hard.

“What are you reading?” You said, breaking the silence. You grabbed a yogurt out of the fridge and open it with your teeth then grabbed another for him. Peach for you, strawberry for him.

He sighed with a growl and lazily folded the paper. “Nothing good. Just politics.”

You scoffed and smiled, handing the yogurt cup to him. “I’d rather read the cartoons.” Which is true, but you knew he loved that too.

He chuckled, his bright smile taking over, and he opened his yogurt. “So would I! Minseok got ahold of it before i woke up.”

“Doesn’t surprise me, he’s an early riser. Is he the one that made the coffee?” You asked curiously, you would kill for a fresh cup. The smell calmed you and have you a strange sense of peace.

“No, well he made a pot but everyone had their fair share. Also before i got up. I made that pot, so it’s fresh. Help yourself.”

You laughed. “Seems like we could both use to get up earlier huh? It would be beneficial to our morning routines.” You took a mug from the cubby, “do you want a cup?” He nodded and you grabbed another.

You prepared your cup the way you liked it, with as much cream and sugar you could fit in the cup. He liked his black,withthe smallest bit of sugar, but never any cream. He felt like the cream didn’t make a difference and always made fun of you for your coffee flavoured milk.

You slid his cup over to him and he took a sip.

“Aaah, refreshing.” He said and glanced at yours, “you’re gonna get cavities drinking that. You practically poured the whole container in!”

You laughed loudly, more so than you should have for something that wasn’t even funny, but it felt nice. He said the same thing the first time you had coffee together. It was before the two of you started dating, in fact it was the date, if you could call it that, that triggered the scandal that led to you dating. He took you out to get some fresh air. Both of you had felt overwhelmed, you with the decision of a lifetime teetering back and forth and him with the stress that the idol life brought him. Funny how that time brought you close, and in turn how you got each other through it. In fact this was the first sense of normalcy you’ve had in a while. Just you and him and your morning coffee. You wanted to savor this, right down to the last drop. To remember what was. You closed your eyes and pretended, just for a second, that you were home, and that he was yours.

“What are you doing?” He asked lightly. You opened your eyes slowly. He was staring at you intently, a sense of curiosity danced in his eyes. He used to be able to read you like a book, word for word, cover to cover. He could tell your mood by how you moved, even the smallest movement of your hand. You wondered if he still could. Could he see that you hurt when you looked at him? That you hadn’t smiled, hadn’t laughed, hadn’t been happy in weeks? The logical side of you knew that he had no clue who you were. But the romantic side of you? That side clung to every ounce of hope it could find.

“Just enjoying my coffee.” You said as you took another sip. You watched his eyes search your face for the truth and part of you hoped he would find it. You raised your cup to take another taste and his face lit up.

“Waah, what’s this??” Chanyeol pointed to your ring. You felt your heart drop to your stomach. You’d forgotten that you still had it on. You really didn’t know what to with it. You didn’t even know if you err engaged anymore. Taking it off felt wrong, like you were giving up hope, giving up what you had of him. It felt like you lost. So you kept it on, hoping someday this little piece of gold wouldn’t hurt you so much.

“Are you engaged??” His voice was filled with excitement, his happiness leaving a burning sting in your chest.

You fidgeted with the ring, “It’s...complicated.” You managed. Your eyes glued to the ring not daring to take it off, in fear that he would see your names engraved together on the inside. You felt the numbness pile back. That’s the only thing you could think to call it. The mess of every emotion possible in one go. Numb.

You felt a hand wrap gently around yours. You looked up slowly and met his eyes and immediately wished you hadn’t. He looked sad,as if he could feel your pain too, just by touching you. It ate at you,but no matter how bad you didn’t want to feel this you didn’t want him to feel it too. “You don’t have to tell me about it. Whatever happened, it will be okay, okay? I promise.”

You half smiled and took a deep breath, praying that you could exhale the cloud you felt inside. “I hope you’re right.”

“Where is everyone?” You asked. Chanyeol relaxed into his chair. He removed ball cap and fixed his hair, ruffling it up loosely, making it stick out in a boyish and endearing way. You chuckled at him, shaking your head at his antics.

“At their schedules, today is particularly busy.” He stated as he slapped his cap back on. “Except for me. My schedules resume tomorrow.”

You blinked. “Gone!?Baekhyun was supposed to drive me to my follow up in a half an hour!” You groaned and rubbed your eyes with your palms. The doctor didn’t want you driving just yet, and even if you could cars stressed you out. You hated even being in them.

“I can drive you.” Chanyeol said. “The doctor cleared me to drive, so i can take you. It’s no burden, I’ve got nothing better to do today.” Chanyeol stood up, straightening his hoodie and cleaning his mess,seemingly deciding he was taking you himself.

“Thank you.” You breathed. “I just want to use my stupid arm again.” You rubbed your shoulder. The sling the kept your arm in to prevent you from using your shoulder was probably one of the most annoying things you could have on. It made everything an inconvenience. Showering, sleeping, even walking. Now you had to be extra careful not to run into things or tap things with your right side. Honestly if the doctor didn’t give you good news you’d probably have a mental breakdown. You wanted to get back to normal. At least I’m one aspect of your life.

“I understand, the brace i had was annoying as hell. I only have to wear it at night now.” He chimed, “I can’t imagine how you must feel. Your a makeup artist right? That’s what the others have told me.”

“Yeah, and I’m supposed to be back at work with you tomorrow. I don’t know what I’m going to do if he says i still can’t use it. I just want to work again. I need one sense of stability back.”

He nodded simply. “We will make it work either way.”

You looked at him. “We?”

“Yeah! I may not remember you but I’m not heartless. Not am i stupid. I can see how much all of the member care about you. That makes you my friend too. We were in the crash together, so we will recover together.”

“Ah.” You let out. You slouched against the fridge, biting the inside of your cheek carefully. A small smile spread over your face. For some reason you found comfort in that small “We”. It was a trivial word that he meant nothing significant by. But to you, it was one of those droplets of hope that poured into your skin and gave you a little bit of faith to keep your head up. So you smiled and raised your cup. “Here’s to a happy recovery.”

“Cheers.”

—

You hated hospitals. Even before the accident you hated them. They were crowded with people, some obviously sick, some of which had no clear idea of hygiene and manners. Not to mention how loud it was. It always reminded you of pain, in some form, and frustration. You had been to the hospital multiple times in the past. In your teens you had cancer scares, apendicitis, your gallbladder removed, broken bones, all sorts of things. Every visit only brought bad news and stress. You hated it.

The waiting room you were in was particularly busy too. It was fifty fifty with young kids, ones who, obviously played sports and had some kind of injury and elderly folk who probably fell somehow. You sat with your arms crossed across your chest, legs crossed in an effort to make yourself as small as possible and not run into someone else’s chair space. You bounced your leg and fidgeted with the cloth of your jacket, trying to let your mind wander the pass the time.

Chanyeol laid a hand on your knee, calming your shaking leg. “Calm down.” He chuckled, “the worst he’s going to tell you is that you can’t use your arm for a while.”

You huffed, “Which would be fine and dandy if i wasn’t right handed. My fill in at work has to follow another group, so she can’t stay with you. You’ll be short staffed, and I’ve worked short staffed days, everything is set for a loop, and nothing goes right. At this point if he tells me not to I’ll probably just do it anyway.”

“I’d love to see you try, we will all boycott that. You’ll be fine. Just breathe.”

You took a deep breath and nodded. “You’re right. I know you’re right. I just can’t stand doctors.”

A nurse walked out and called your name. You looked at Chanyeol instinctively, and surprisingly his eyes met yours in sync. You nervously licked your lips and he shuffled lightly, his hand brushing yours oh so softly.

“Do you want me to come with you?” He asked quietly. You nodded slowly and and he took your hand as if it was the normal thing to do. The nurse led you back through the doors and ran you through the routine question. Date of birth, did you drink, family history, the whole nine yards. Waiting for the doctor felt endless. Thousands of answers ran through your head. A majority of them medically illogical but your anxiety soared at appointments. Chanyeol gave your hand a squeeze, the look in his eyes giving you small comfort that you had missed. You squeezed his hand back as a silent thank you. You missed holding him. Even as innocent as it is. You missed him.

The doctor entered the room with a light knock. He shuffled onto his swivel chair, clipboard in hand. He typed on the computer and brought up what looked to be your file.

“Alright.” He said spinning around to face you. He wheeled his chair over to your injured side and place a delicate hand on your bandaged shoulder. “Has the pain gotten any better?”

“It has. It’s worst in the mornings.” You stated. He moved your arm up and down slowly, his eyes watching you for any sign of pain. You winced as he brought it high.

“You’ve made good progress! It isn’t fully healed but i know you have been wanting to use t again for work. Given that your work generally doesn’t require heavy lifting I’m going to go ahead and allow you to use your arm. Absolutely no heavy lifting, don’t strain yourself and be careful lifting your arm up too high. I’ll refer you to a physical therapist to help you work back to that, but take it easy for now.” You felt a relief and excitement rush through you. A grin spread across your face, you’d hug the man if it wasn’t inappropriate. “Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect. Thank you.” You said, trying not to bounce off the walls.

He handed you a slip, “Give this to the lady at the front desk, she will schedule you an appointment for a month from now and will schedule you with the PT.  Be careful okay?”

You nodded and made your way to the desk. When you reached the receptionist you felt Chanyeol let go of your hand, and suddenly you felt stone cold. You had to fight the urge to reach out for him, and it pained you to stand still, smile still plastered on your face. He looked at you with glowing eyes and an even more cheerful smile.

“This calls for a celebration!” He pounded his fist meaningfully on the counter, the other shaking almost triumphantly. You cocked an eyebrow in confusion, “Let’s get lunch! My treat!”

—

You rolled your eyes behind your hands. Chanyeol insisted on surprising you for the place. Honestly if someone told you this was where you would wind up today you’d have told them to fuck off. But here you were. He was driving Suho’s car, given that his was totaled. You didn’t know it as well, the smell was different, the seats didn’t sit the same but Chanyeol still hummed. He still tapped to the beat on his steering wheel and danced in his own little world. It’s strange in a sense, how he wasn’t phased in the least by being in the car again, but with you, Chen had to hold your hand and talk you through it just to keep you from freaking out when you were released from the hospital. The panic had eased since then but everytime the car jerked or made a sudden move you felt your heart skip a beat.

“I’ll drive slower.” Chanyeol said suddenly, pausing personal concert he had going on.

“You, uh, you don’t have to do that. I’m fine.” You do yourself to make yourself seem at ease but you were certain you looked like a dumbass no matter what.

“I can see you tense everytime a car even honks. I’ll go slower.” He stated firmly.

“I’m fine!”

“No you aren’t. I may not remember much of the crash but driving isn’t as fun as it used to be. I know it has to scare you since you remember everything.”

You blinked. Did you hear him right? “You remember the crash?” You asked. You heard him shift in his seat and you pictured him taking his hand and swiping it nervously over his mouth, as if he knew something he wasn’t supposed to.

“Bits and pieces.” He said. “I remember right before the crash. It was peaceful. I remember you were with me too but i don’t know why. I-“ he paused, his lips opening and closing as he searched for what to say. Nothing came. Silence flooded the atmosphere and you couldn’t say you hated it. You didn’t want him to finish that sentence. It would only confirm a number of what ifs that cemented themselves under your eyelids. This way you could imagine a better what if. This way you could fake it.

“It’s okay.” You said softly, “If you don’t remember who I am. I’ll carry the burden for the both of us in the meantime. So it’s okay.”

—

[donutpwns]

Stanuary - Youth

Stan often thought about firing the kid, or wondering if hiring him on a whim in the first place had been a bad idea. Well, it had been Stan's idea so it was probably bad but there was levels to that. Like the difference between having to repaint his car after a bad joke bad or having to make a new fake identity and run from the cops bad. Levels.

It's not that the kid was a bad worker or anything. For as weird and excitable as he was, the kid did work hard. If he didn't know how to fix something, he more or less figured it out. Sometimes there were more fires than would've been preferred but Stan could trust it would be done. In the three years the boy had been working for him, Stan would swear the kid had more or less taught himself everything about being a handyman, from fixing the wiring in the Shack to rebuilding the golf cart at least twice. Stan was impressed. Maybe a smidge proud.

And that basically boiled down to the problem; Stan was getting attached to the kid. Hell, he was banned from airplanes for him, and wouldn't that be fun to explain to Ford when he got back? Stan likes having the kid around, even if he stares at Stan with stars in his eyes as if Stan was the greatest person he's ever known. Maybe that plays into it, maybe Stan likes the idea of a smart kid like that looking at him like that. But when Stan gets attached to something or someone, things never work out. It’s just a matter of time before the other shoe drops and Stan's left feeling worse for caring in the first place. Like every time he takes the time to go visit his great-niece and nephew. It's fun to play with the kids but then eventually he has to go home.

Stan expects the Soos shoe to drop when the kid goes to college, but there’s a sinking feeling when he sees the boy out the window one day in the early afternoon. Typically Soos shows up after school on weekdays, the bus dropping him off down the road so his grandmother doesn't have to make the trip here and back more than once a day until the kid gets a license. Stan normally lets him do his homework while manning the register, saving all the repairs until after the kid's school work was done. Purely to make sure the kid doesn't fail at school because of the work or anything that would make him have to quit sooner, of course.

But it's only a little past noon; way too early for Soos to be trudging up. Also, Soos doesn't trudge, he runs up all excited and jabbering about what happened at school or what new book on electrical engineering he'd found or the new cartoon show from Japan he'd been watching. As if Stan cares about the kid's day to day. Today there's a definite trudge to his steps though.

Still, Stan plasters a grin on his face as the door opens, pretending his focus is solely on the shelf of shoddily painted souvenir eyeballs he had been restocking. “Look who's here early. Trying to get some overtime? Cause there's some laws about how much you're allowed to work, kid.” Stan’s pretty sure at least; he never actually checked.

“Good one, dude. But I thought that when there's no cops around, everything is legal. Right, Mr. Pines?” his voice is quiet as he moves to put his backpack under the counter where it usually goes and there's that smidge of pride again.

Stan turns with a laugh, “I'll be damned, you are lear—" he freezes. Soos ducks his head and tugs his hat down but Stan still catches a look at the big, purplish bruise that surrounds his right eye. “That's one hell of a shiner, kid. Other guy looking worse?”

Soos laughs nervously and rubs at the back of his neck. “Nah, dude. Err, Mr. Pines.” He taps his fingers against the counter. “M-my school has a no fighting policy so we both got sent home.” that was odd. It wasn't like Soos to get into fights. “My grandma's still at work and I didn't wanna miss work. I can get started on fixing the tv once I'm done with my homework.”

That was ridiculous. Kid gets into a fight and still comes to work? Then again, how many times had Stan went to work on the Stan o’ War with black eyes or busted lips? Though the idea that the Shack meant as much to Soos as that stupid boat had meant to him was ludicrous. Stan scoffs and puts another bag of eyeballs on the shelf. “Fight? What could you possibly get in a fight over?” he's irritated when the thought that Soos might be getting bullied crosses his mind. He thinks about a little boy with hands hidden behind his back and eyes on his shoes. Only this time Stan can't exactly punch the bully. Well, not without having to talk with the cops and he's pretty sure even those incompetent buffoons wouldn't let him get away with that.

“He uh was saying some stuff about the Sh—y’know, it's not important. Just stupid high school stuff.” Stan looks back at the kid who now has his nose buried in a textbook, already starting on his homework. His knuckles are bruised, his right hand beginning to swell a bit. He's also holding his pencil weird, gripping it more with his fingers than with his thumb. Without realizing what he’s doing, Stan moves across the shop and grabs the kid’s wrist to hold his hand up. Soos goes all red in the face. “M-Mr. Pines? What's up, dawg?”

Stan grunts, frowning at the way Soos’ thumb is curling weird. “Make a fist. C'mon, show me a good fist.” his frown deepens when the kid obeys, curling his fingers over his thumb. Ah. That explained it. Kid doesn't know how to make a fist. “No, no. Thumb goes on the outside. Like this.” He lets go of Soos so he can hold up his own fist. “You put it inside and you're just asking for a broken thumb.”

And there goes that starry eyed look again that makes the back of his neck hot. But Soos mimics his first, thumb over his fingers. “Wow, Mr. Pines. That does feel better. Do you know how to fight?”

That makes Stan grin, real and genuine, and he thumbs his nose. “I mighta boxed a bit when I was a kid.” part of him wants to show Soos the picture of him and Ford in the boxing ring but that would open more questions than he was ready to answer. So instead Stan takes a loose boxing stance and makes a few jabs at the air. “Right jab, right, feint, and then bam! Left hook! They never see it coming.”

Soos’ eyes are wide and amazed, fists shoved under his chin. He smiles wide with his cheeks going red. “That's so cool, Mr. Pines! Bet you never lost a fight like I did, dude!”

Stan considers a moment, looking at the kid's black eye and bruised knuckles. Hm. “Well. It won't do if an employee of the Mystery Shack is losing fights. What would people say?” he crosses his arms with a nod. “Yep, it's settled. I'm going to teach you how to box. How about it kid?”

Maybe Stan feels a bit more than a smidge of pride at the enthusiastic way the kid agrees. He's a good kid. While Stan has him, might as well teach him a thing or two.

[bluerene]

river, part one [starx]

hi 

it’s been a looooong while since I’ve really posted any writing (coughLIABILITYcough) but I’ve been working on this for a while and it feels worthy of being put up. Technically, the whole thing is meant to be a longass oneshot, but I figured that with tumblr’s format, it might just be better in shorter breaks. 

I’ll post on ff.net once all the parts are uploaded here. I don’t think it’ll exceed 5? 

things to note, uhhhhh, inspired by the hook from Eminem’s “River ft. Ed Sheeran”. also @fireflyxrebel ‘s blog bc starx <3 <3 <3 And my innate need to start new stories when I haven’t finished any. Post-Tokyo, sans kiss. 

I invite critiques, requests, reblogs, and reviews (i.e. please tell me if it’s garbage :)!!!

without further ado, this is River. 

I’ve been a liar, been a thief

been a lover, been a cheat

all my sins need holy water, feel it washing over me

Little one, I don’t wanna admit to something

If all it’s gonna cause is pain

Truth and my lies, now, are falling like the rain

So let the river run

I did it for the look on his face.

Man, you should’ve seen it. I think he might’ve stopped breathing. It only lasted for a moment, but damn, it was funny. Then he started throwing punches. She was dazed and pink but she managed to wiggle out of the red bands that strapped her to the wall. Her fists were clenched, but she didn’t look angry. Confused, stunned, maybe even a little curious.

The next bit was mostly a blur - I was busy dodging his fury, making little comments that only irked him more. I glanced over at her a few times. She was distracted, not really making a move to catch me. He was too busy dealing with me to notice that the only teammate at his disposal was a bystander.

Bird Boy knew my moves well. He landed a few nasty hooks, his steel shoes connecting with my chest once or twice. We were too evenly matched to make the fight come to a clean end. He anticipated the toys in my belt, from the x-shaped shurikens to the scarlet rubber bindings I enjoyed shooting so often.

I played the weakness. I glanced at her again, more noticeably, and raised my palms, prepared to strike.

It worked - he turned around and shouted her name, snapping her out of her thoughts. I shifted my aim and fired, wrapping him in thick red cords.

“Robin!” She shrieked, transferring something from her fist to her pocket.

“It’s been fun playing, kids,” I said calmly, “but I’ve gotta run.”

She was at his side immediately, peeling away the tightly wound bands.

“Hey, cutie,” I called, grinning at the sight of her crimson cheeks, “think about what I said.”

I gave them a two-fingered salute and tapped my belt, teleporting to the rooftop of the warehouse we were in. Ordinarily I’d try to get as far away from them as possible, but I was low on juice and until I replaced the Xenothium in the suit, I’d be stuck making short jumps - too short to escape their field of view.

“What the hell just happened, Starfire?” Ouch, he sounded pissed. Pissed and loud.

I positioned myself flat against the roof, straining to hear more.

“He escaped,” she said mournfully, “oh, Robin, I am truly sorry, I was...out of my skull?”

“Head,” he corrected, softening slightly, “what did X say to you? Where’s the paper he gave you?”

“He merely made another of the date comments,” her voice was meek and apologetic. I could picture her twisting her fingers nervously or playing with her hair, “and I... the paper was burnt by my starbolts.”

That made me do a double take. She was lying.

“He’s an asshole.”

“Indeed. But there is nothing we can do about him now, yes?”

He sighed tiredly, “yeah, whatever. He didn’t make off with much. I’ll deal with it tomorrow. We should head back, patrol wasn’t supposed to run so late.”

“Robin-”

“Don’t worry, Star. I’m fine, just frustrated. You’re right, there’s nothing that can be done right now.”

She seemed to accept this, not fighting back with any words as they exited the warehouse. I scooched closer to the edge of the roof, careful to keep out of view.

“Ride back with me?” He offered.

“Another time,” she replied, sounding alarmingly close, “I believe I require a midnight flight.”

I turned my head in what I assumed was her direction and - well, shit, there she was, floating with her back to me.

“Suit yourself. Don’t be too long, I’ll lockdown the tower after you’ve come in.”

“Thank you, Robin.” She turned and looked straight at me, lips pressed in a thin line.

I made a move for my belt, stopping when she shook her head. It was such an imperceptible movement, I was certain I had imagined it. But I obeyed anyway, waiting for the sound of the bike revving and speeding off into the night, until we were enveloped in silence once more.

She landed beside me and hoisted me up by the front of my suit, pushing me onto my feet. I stumbled back and shot her a glare.

“Ease up, cutie.”

“You do not get to speak to me in that manner,” she seethed, reaching into her pocket to retrieve a crumpled up piece of paper, “I will give you ten seconds to explain what this is before I throw you into the harbor.”

I shrugged, “it’s exactly what it looks like.”

“I do not understand. Even you are not stupid enough to give me-”

“My phone number? Stupid, no, interested, yes. Don’t try tracing it, you won’t get anywhere.” This wasn’t entirely true, but I was pretty confident she’d believe me.

“What did you hope to accomplish with this?”

“A date,” I said cheekily, “or a chat. I’ll be walking away from here with at least one, that’s for sure.”

She frowned, “I am still confused.”

“Me too, actually, why’d you lie to your boyfriend?”

She blanched, turning away quickly.

“He is not my boyfriend.” She muttered.

“Nuance,” I said smoothly, moving to stand beside her, “you still lied.”

“Would you have preferred I allow him to attack you?”

“Well, no, but I’m surprised you took my feelings into consideration.”

She shook her head, “it is not that. I am trying to understand you, and I do not think involving Robin would be of any help.”

“Oh? What do you wanna know?” I moved closer to her, praying that she wouldn’t crush my bones if we touched.

“Why do you do this, X?” She asked quietly, turning to face me, her fingers still clutching the scrap of paper I’d shoved into her hand twenty minutes earlier.

“I can’t help it if I like you, beautiful.”

She blushed and stepped out of my reach, shaking her head, “I am not referring to the flirting. I am referring to...the facade. The persona. X, you are capable of so much.”

Ohhhhhh, fuck. This was not where I wanted the conversation to go. I figured I’d tease her a little, flirt things up, play the game.

“You think too highly of me,” I said quickly, crossing my arms.

“I do not think that is true,” she replied, “you are strong and clever and you have aided us on several occasions. You could be a great asset to the Titans if you-”

“I’m not interested in being recruited, cutie,” I shot flatly, “I’m a thief. I do what I want, when I want. That’s all there is to me.”

“You are wrong. I know there is more.”

“You don’t know me.”

That shut her up. I felt bad, but not enough to take back what I’d said. I wasn’t wrong. She had no idea what she was talking about.

“Then let me.”

What?

“Excuse me?”

“Let me know you,” she said firmly, leaving no room for argument, “you have been persistent about taking me on an outing. I will go on a date with you, if you allow me the chance to truly know you.”

I shook my head, thankful that the mask hid my eyes which were probably the size of dinner plates.

“No way, cutie, you’re crazy.”

She shrugged, “perhaps I am, but I will not leave you with much of a choice. You will take me out on a pleasant excursion and allow me the opportunity to get to know you better. In return, I will not inform Robin of our conversation tonight, or give him this-” she brandished the slip of paper triumphantly.

“It’s a dead number anyways,” I lied, “go ahead, he’ll probably be more pissed at you anyways.”

Her eyes narrowed, lips curving into a smirk.

“You underestimate Robin. And you underestimate me.”

I had to smile at that, “Cutie, I would never underestimate you.”

“Marvelous. Then I shall contact you via this number to arrange an evening for our date. I would appreciate it if you cooperated, but it is not necessary, because this will happen either way,” she said briskly, rising into the air.

“One question,” I said, definitely not getting caught up in the sight of her long red hair flowing in the cool night air, “why are you doing this?”

She smiled slightly, “I believe in chances and goodness. Consequently, I believe you deserve to have and be both.”

“No, no,” I shook my head, “I meant the date.”

She blushed again, “conceivably...it could be fun.”

With that, she was gone, her exit accented by a bright green streak in the sky.

-

X’hal I must be insane.

Raven certainly thinks so. I told her what I had done - used Red X’s affections for me against him. She feels it is a terrible idea. I do not disagree.

I find him to be intriguing. He has proven himself to be worthy of the Titans time and time again, saving us, assisting us, often choosing to help rather than run. He claims his motives are his own, and perhaps they are, but I truly feel there is more to it.

To be clear, I am still very confused by many of his actions. I do not understand why he has chosen crime, nor do I understand why he flirts with me. I am not even sure the flirting is genuine.

Humans are such complex creatures. They err more often than not. Matters of honor hold great weight with some and no weight at all for others. Actions are coupled with intent to determine consequence.

Humans also veil their emotions. They feign kindness to disguise malice. Conversely, they can act cold to hide affection. I have seen it often with Robin.

Tamaranians are the opposite. We are compelled by our soul and our strength. We pride ourselves on our ability to feel, and express our feelings through touch rather than verbally. I have become quite accustomed to the various displays of physical affection humans utilize. High-fives and the bumping of fists in congratulations. Hugs for comfort, friendly kisses on foreheads and cheeks, sometimes hands as a means of being silly or flirtatious. Mouths with romantic intent. This, I find rather foreign.

Raven suggested, rather hesitantly, that I might have agreed to Red X’s request because I have been feeling lonely and I enjoy his attention. I know she did not mean to insult me, but I felt slightly affronted. Mostly because I could not disagree with this observation either.

I have long given up on Robin. Tokyo put a distance between us, an uncomfortable bubble that neither of us have been able to break. He is still my friend. I still love him. But I am tired of waiting.

Red X has always been amusing to me, though I try to hide it for Robin’s sake. I do not need his flirtations or compliments, but I certainly enjoy hearing them. It fills me with a strange feeling that twists in my stomachs and makes my heart work a little faster.

Thinking about it now, I realize accepting his offer may have been too bold of a move. I do not know where we will meet or what we will do or how we will dress. I have no alibi prepared, though I am sure Raven will allow me to use her as an excuse. I doubt Red X will tell me anything of true value. He may choose to use this date as an excuse to ‘put the moves on’ as Cyborg would say. It could very well be a wasted evening.  

But, if anything, I do think it will be fun.

[end of part 1]

[thekuroiookami]

KnB (Fairytale AU) - If the glove fits

Of all things, he was going to be defeated by a soot stain. Kagami scrubbed the hem of the silk coat with renewed vigour, but to no avail. The black patch stubbornly stayed where it was, a glaring mishap on the sheen of the otherwise pearly white fabric. He sighed and dropped the damp cloth onto the table.

“Well, I suppose I don’t have to expect any dinner tonight.” He grumbled at the injustice. “Even though I’ll be the one cooking it.”

Right on cue, the summoning bell in the kitchen tinkled angrily. He peered blearily out of one eye. Of course, it was one of his step-siblings. Of course. Who else had the capacity to torment him while he was bone tired?

With a sigh drawn from a world-weary soul, he wiped his hands on his apron, checking on the stew bubbling in the hearth as he left. Hoping that he wouldn’t be held up too long by whatever inane order they gave him next, Kagami opened the door to his step-brother’s opulent boudoir.

He dodged as a heeled shoe narrowly missed his head, hitting the door with a thunk. With dawning horror, he watched as the expensively studded buckle tumbled off. Another thing he’d have to spend precious hours repairing. He turned around to scowl at the attacker.

“What took you so long, idiot? Huh, I suppose I shouldn’t expect much out of someone so slow in the head, anyway.” Aomine lounged on a garishly striped couch, shirt half open, and the other shoe dangling from his fingers. “Oye, get me something to eat, and be quick about it. While you’re at it, my pillow book is missing. Find that as well.”

Kagami gritted his teeth and tried, again, to find that kindness and patience his mother had told him about. It was nowhere to be found. “I’m not a slave you can just order around as you please, moron. And dinner’s in two hours. Wait until then.”

Aomine stood up, lazily twirling the shoe. “Getting ideas too big for your head, errand boy? Don’t forget, it may be your mother’s house, but you live off our money. Don’t push your luck, or you’ll find yourself singing for coppers on the street. Now bring me my sandwich.”

Kagami let out a laugh that couldn’t quite hide his bitterness. “There’s no chance of that, seeing not one of you can cook. You’d die in a week if I weren’t around to keep house.”

A sinister yet musical voice sent sudden chills down his back. “You overestimate your value, Kagami. I would have cut you from the household long ago, if it were not for the memory of your dear mother.”

He took a step back, face frozen in guilty terror, as Akashi glided into the room, followed a disinterested Midorima. He gulped as his step-father’s narrowed crimson eyes surveyed him, the disdain evident. Kagami’s other sibling merely huffed in annoyance and went back to inspecting the miniature cuckoo clock he was carrying.

Akashi slowly strolled past the dressing table, trailing his fingers over the white wood. “I’m more than happy to hire new, more competent help if I thought it was necessary. But how else would you earn your keep here, Kagami? I am being more generous than many people would be, by taking you in.”

The words were out of his mouth before he could restrain himself. “BUT IT ISN’T YOUR MONEY! And I can’t just make food appear on a whim just because this glutton said so!”

Kagami stilled in fear as Akashi abruptly clenched his fingers around a silver hairbrush lying on the bureau. His eye glinted gold in the mirror as he slowly turned back to face a panicked Kagami.

“What did you say?”

“I mean- err-“

“Surely,” Akashi cut him off with deadly calm, “surely you were not attempting to defy me?”

Kagami shook his head frantically, eyes glued to the potentially fatal hairbrush in Akashi’s hand as the latter prowled forward. A previous incident with a letter opener had made Kagami wary of all projectiles in Akashi’s hands. His terrifying, evil, demonic step-parent spoke again.

“Because that would be unthinkable. One would almost say you had a death-wish.”

“I do not, milord. I’m sorry.”

After holding Kagami in the thrall of his satanic gaze for one more moment to ensure total subservience, Akashi nodded regally. “Then you may show your gratitude by making sure my sons are ready for the ball in three nights. I want them dressed in their very best. We’re trying to catch the eye of a princess, after all.”

Midorima and Aomine sat to attention at this. The former pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up his nose. “So it has been announced then? The princess is taking suitors?”

Akashi’s lips curved in a calculating smile. “Yes, the invitations just arrived this morning. Any man invited to the ball is eligible for her hand. All we need do is snare her.”

Aomine’s grin was lascivious. “I’ve heard she’s pretty easy on the eyes. And that she fills out her corsets nicely. I wouldn’t mind being shackled to a woman like that.”

Midorima spared a contemptuous glance for his brother. “I do not believe any discerning woman would take a second look at you. On the other hand, I will be well-prepared to charm her.”

“With your lucky item of the day?” Aomine scoffed at the notion. “If it’s anything like that thing you’re holding now, she’ll wise up quick to the fact that you escaped from the asylum.”

“Now, now,” said Akashi before things could heat up further, “we were discussing the matter of your attire. As I was saying, Kagami will be responsible for your clothing. Luckily, the market will be stocking new fabric tomorrow, so there will be just enough time to finish stitching it.”

Kagami felt his stomach drop. “New fabric? But that’s not enough time to make three coats from scratch!”

“I’m sure you’ll manage.” Akashi’s eyes burned into Kagami. “Won’t you?”

His shoulders slumped as he realized he wouldn’t be getting any sleep for the next few days. “Yes, milord.”

XXX

Kagami worked furiously for the next two days, sewing and cutting until his fingers were numb with pain. He had been deprived of some valuable time on the first day as Aomine dithered over what colour to pick. He knew the torment was deliberate on Aomine’s part. When he finally settled on a navy silk after three hours, Kagami’s joy had been cut short by the fact that Midorima’s belated appearance. Apparently the gypsy fortune-teller had read Midorima’s cards and suggested that he get – of all things – a frog shaped pin to ward off bad luck. There ensued another painful hour where Midorima hemmed and hawed until he found the forest-green velvet he wanted. After rushing home to cook dinner (because it wasn’t like house could run itself, Akashi said), he had barely enough time to take measurements and cut the cloth before collapsing into bed.

Now, he triumphantly dropped the scissors onto the floor and tied off the last stitch. “There, it’s done.”

Midorima tapped his foot impatiently. “Then hand it over, I must get ready. There’s barely two hours till the carriage arrives.”

Aomine sauntered in, grabbed his clothes, and went back out without a word of thanks. Akashi was also about exit the room when Kagami hesitantly spoke up. “Can I go too? To the ball, I mean?”

Akashi paused before answering. “Of course, I see no reason why not.”

He brightened until the red-head spoke again. “If you finish cleaning every fire-place in the manor before we leave, that is.”

Kagami watched his so-called family walk away, heart splintering until he was hollow inside. The ball would have been a chance to meet new people, perhaps find someone that liked duelling as much as he did. The princess he didn’t care much about, but the prince was rumoured to have a band of fighters that sailed the high seas in search of adventure. This would have been a golden opportunity to meet him, and maybe impress him enough that he’d ask Kagami to join. But, as always, fate liked to have the last laugh.

He stood on the porch, watching the last of his hopes fade away as the carriage rumbled down the drive with his cackling step-siblings in it. Sighing, he prepared to go start on the fireplaces.

“My, your family really aren’t very nice, are they?” A thoughtful voice came from somewhere near Kagami’s elbow.

He leapt back in fright as he realized a faintly glowing person stood next to him. “Who- what are you?”

The apparition’s mouth turned down at the corners. “You mean you don’t remember me, Kagami? I suppose you were younger then, but still…”

A hazy memory made its way to the surface of Kagami’s mind. “Ku..ro..ko?”

“That’s right. Guardian fairy, at your service.” Kuroko produced a taped-together wand for emphasis.

“Guardian fairy? Some use you are. Where were you when I was being abused all this time?” If it weren’t for the blue glow, Kagami would have labelled the whole thing a scam.

Kuroko seemed to droop in despair. “I apologize, I didn’t know. As you can see, my magic is much weaker than the average fairy, so much that I go unnoticed most of the time. I mean, I was supposed to appear with a burst of light, but I barely managed a few sprinkles.”

Kagami nodded in understanding. If he squinted really hard, he could see some glitter in the lamplight.

Kuroko continued his sad tale. “It’ll get better when the Bureau processes my promotion, but until then, I can’t do anything large-scale. Like change your life for the better.”

Kagami sighed. “So what are you here for then? To chat?”

“I overheard you saying you wanted to go to the ball. I can help with that. First, you need transportation. Is there anything we can use?”

An excited bark startled the both of them. Kagami scrambled back as he realised a blue-eyed puppy had been watching the whole time. “Get it away from me!”

Kuroko smiled at the happy dog. “Yes, you’ll do nicely.” Kagami watched in fascination as the fairy drew some complex runes in the air, sparks emitting from the crack in the wand. The puppy began to glow with the same blue light as Kuroko and there was a sudden flash.

When Kagami blinked his eyes back into shape again, a dappled pony stood in the dog’s place, eagerly pawing at the ground. A polished saddle and bridle marked it as a form of converyance.

He turned to Kuroko, incredulous. “This? This is your idea of transportation? Shouldn’t it be a proper horse at least?” Granted, it was a rather large pony, but still.

Kuroko returned a deadpan look. “There are rules about these things, Kagami. Conservation of matter and such. You can’t just turn a puppy into a full-grown horse. It has to be proportionate across species. Now, if we had a Great Dane, it would be a different story.”

Kagami rubbed his temples. “You can’t even call it magic anymore…”

Kuroko cleared his throat. “Now for your clothes, I should be able to do a bit better…”

A wave of warm magic flowed over Kagami, brushing across his skin and hair. When he looked down again, he was wearing a beautifully fitted coat, far finer than any he could have stitched himself. The midnight fabric was offset by the snowy white shirt and cuffs. His cravat was held together by a ruby pin, and the buckles on his boots gleamed with the shine of newness. Kuroko looked intrigued.

“Interesting. You seem to amplify my magic when it’s used on you. Certainly I could not have achieved that by myself. We shall have to investigate it another time.”

Kagami didn’t hear him, too busy being amazed at the transformation. He sighed when he saw his hands though. Roughened with work and ash, they were clean, but still a contrast to the luxurious outfit. Kuroko noticed and smiled.

“And for the final touch…” Another set of runes appeared over Kagami’s hands. When the magic died away, a pair of ruby-red gloves, made of dove-soft leather and fitted perfectly to every finger, graced Kagami.

“A fine job, if I say so myself. I made that from elven leather, so take care of those.” Kuroko seemed very pleased with himself.

Kagami eyed the black and white pony with suspicion. “I still don’t want to ride that thing. It was a dog, no matter what you did to it.” His case was justified when the animal gave him a friendly lick to the face.

“Just give in, Kagami. You’ll be fine. Although..” Kuroko frowned at his malfunctioning wand. “This wand is a bit old, so I wouldn’t trust the magic to last long. You should endeavour to get home by midnight, it will wear off by then.”

The other boy rolled his eyes. “Just my luck, getting stuck with the one guardian fairy that’s low on magic. Might as well make the most of what I have then.” He pulled himself up onto the prancing horse and paused. “Hey, Kuroko?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks for everything. Even if it doesn’t last long.”

Kuroko smiled, blue irises lighting up. “No problem. Enjoy yourself.”

And so, Kagami set off to the castle, finally one step closer to achieving his dream.

XXX

Prince Kise, seventeenth in a long line of illustrious monarchs, blew his hair out of his eyes in sheer boredom. Balls were all well and good, but this one was especially mind-numbing because it consisted of a long line of fawning men trying desperately to impress his sister. He glanced from the latest strutting suitor when someone nudged him.

The captain of his guard raised an eyebrow meaningfully. “Shouldn’t you be greeting the guests, your highness?” Kasamatsu always was a stickler for propriety.

He waved a careless hand. “It’s fine. They’re not here to see me, and Momoi has them dancing in the palm of her hand anyway. I’m just waiting for the waltz to start so I can get some fresh air.” It made a nice change to not be the centre of attention for once.

He didn’t miss the longing glance Kasamatsu directed at the princess, who was smiling beatifically at some rogue in blue. He cleared his throat as a distraction. “So when are we setting off to Fairnesse again?”

The captain snapped back to attention, intense gaze back. “Next week. The Sea Dancer will be fully repaired and restocked by then. Are you sure about the destination though? It seems a bit…risky.”

Kise’s eyes turned into pools of fiery gold, sharpening with anticipation. “You know me, Kasamatsu. A princess in a tower, guarded by a dragon? I can’t pass up a challenge like that. Besides, I’ve heard that Fairnesse has skilled duelists. Who knows what I may be able to learn…”

The prince trailed off as his gaze was caught by the new arrival. A young man about his age, tall and well-built with auburn hair, stumbled in through the French windows leading to the ballroom. The bewildered guest’s eyes widened as he took in the magnificence of the hall, candlelight glittering off crystal chandeliers and champagne flutes. He was stylishly dressed, Kise noted, but seemed strangely out-of-place.

Kasamatsu was also watching the red-head closely, but with suspicion rather than curiosity. They both had something of a shock when the young man in the black coat strode over to them.

“Excuse me,” he started hesitantly, “would you happen to know where the crown prince is?”

Kise gave Kasamatsu a sharp glance before the latter could slide his dagger from his sleeve. “I might. Can I ask why you are searching for the prince?”

The intriguing visitor flushed a charming shade of pink before explaining. “I err- I heard he’s looking for people to join his crew. I was hoping he’d let me prove my worth in a duel so I could join him on his journeys.”

Kise was instantly fascinated by this stranger. Someone who boldly set out in search of him, at a ball for the princess’ hand. It was bound to be interesting. “I could introduce you, but first things first. This is Kasamatsu, captain of the guard. If you can defeat him in a fair fight, I’ll consider letting you meet the prince.”

Kagami hesitated for a second longer and then nodded. The three of them made their way to a secluded corner of the garden, where Kise drew out his sword and handed it to Kagami, who warily tested the balance.

“Begin.”

A short while later, Kasamatsu was panting heavily on the floor, disarmed, and Kise was practically vibrating with excitement. He stepped in front of a slightly breathless Kagami.

“I’ve never seen someone like you. I need to know if I can mimic your moves. Have a match with me.”

Kagami frowned. “Look here, I thought you said-“

“Your highness! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” A footman came running up, looking frazzled. “The king wants you to lead the first dance, as is custom. Please return to the ballroom, it is about to begin.”

Kise sighed and sheathed his saber. “Fine. I’ll be there shortly. Has my sister chosen her partner yet?”

“Yes, my lord. They are waiting for you now.”

Kagami tried to process the revelation of Kise’s identity and failed miserably. He had been babbling away and the prince had been right in front of him. All the clues had been right there. The air of unwavering confidence, the sharp perfection of his features, the famed topaz eyes. He’d been such an idiot. Kagami stiffened when Kise turned to regard him.

“I will have to ask you to wait a while. As promised, you will have an audience with the prince.” Kise’s wicked, knowing smile made his heart thump in surprise.

“Ahh, yes- I mean, your highness- of course, I’ll wait,” Kagami finished lamely. Kise’s smile widened and he sauntered away. Kasamatsu’s jaw was clenched, but he jerked his head at Kagami to follow and made his way to the ballroom.

Once inside, the captain began describing in curt detail the crew of the Sea Dancer. When he began talking about the talented navigator who had a taste for seal puns, Kagami thought it was high time he asked a vital question.    

“Wait,” he interrupted, “why are you telling me this?”

Kasamatsu’s eyebrow lifted. “Because I strongly suspect you’ll be part of the crew soon. I know the prince well enough to tell.”

Before Kagami could wrap his mind around this news, Kise finished the dance with a graceful flourish and spotted the two of them standing by the door. He walked over with a pink-haired girl in arm, who, Kagami realized in the nick of time, was the princess. Princess Momoi bestowed him with a smile as brilliant as her tiara as he bowed awkwardly.

Kagami looked up to see the prince regarding him with a searing intensity that was at odds with the blonde’s customary easy friendliness. His heart beat faster in response. Kise spoke, his mask of geniality back in place.

“I’m sorry I had to cut our conversation short. But as promised, here I am to give you an audience. So, did you say you wanted to join my crew?”

Kagami stammered, words tumbling over themselves in a rush. “Y-yes! I can duel, but also cook, and stitch- I make a good roast – and if you’d just let me join, I’ll show you I can be useful! Your highness!”

Kise’s answering laugh was infectiously boyish. “That’s great then! We need someone in the galley anyway. And Kise is fine. Only stiff ol’ Kasu here calls me by anything else.”

Momoi rolled her eyes. “That’s because you only look like a prince. We all know you don’t act like one.”

Kagami gulped, hardly able to believe his dreams were coming true. “Then, K-Kise, thank you. I’ll never forget your kindness, I promise.”

The heir to the throne grinned, as dazzling as his sister. “Then let’s shake on it. Though I must say, I don’t know many nobles like you that can cook.”

Kagami automatically grasped Kise’s outstretched hand, mind racing over a plausible explanation. “I- err-“

He was saved from having to reply when a distant clock began its inevitable chime, marking the end of the day. Kagami belatedly remembered he had somewhere else to be.

“Oh shoot, I have to go! I’m sorry, your highness, but I’ll see you later!” Kagami pivoted to run out of the castle.

Kise, in his surprise, gripped harder, instinctually preventing the escape. “But I don’t-“

Kagami, thrown into a complete panic, wrenched his hand out of Kise’s grip and sprinted out of the front doors into the night. The two royals and the captain watched him go with baffled expressions.

Momoi was the first to speak. “Well, I certainly hope my suitors never react that way to a handshake.”

Kasamatsu shook himself out of his daze. “Should I go after him, my prince?”

Kise wasn’t listening, gazing thoughtfully at the elegant red glove in his hand. It was still held lingering traces of Kagami’s warmth. Warm, like his passionate eyes and fiery hair.

“He never told me his name.”

XXX

Two days later, Kagami discovered that he hadn’t hidden his tracks as well as he’d thought. He walked into the kitchen and stopped abruptly when he saw Akashi’s back to him. Akashi turned around holding up a red glove, face unreadable. Kagami dropped the basket of laundry he had been carrying.

“How did you-“

“I don’t why you thought you could hide anything from me, Kagami. Especially after you made no effort to disguise yourself. It was obvious the person the prince was searching for was you.”

Kagami had two revelations at that moment. One, the prince was looking for him. And two, this was why he hadn’t had a spare minute since the ball. Akashi had deliberately been keeping him busy so he couldn’t leave. The anger fuelled him, gave him the strength to stand his ground.

“If you know about it, good. I’m done with this place. It may have been our family home, but there’s nothing left here for me anymore.”

Akashi’s lip curled in condescension. “I never said you could leave.” He flicked open a pocket-watch that shone with silver runes.

Kagami felt an abrupt, inexplicable weight pull on his limbs, dragging him to the ground. He fell to his knees, eyes widening in shock at Akashi’s cold expression. The other red-head slowly advanced until they were eye to eye.

“The prince’s men will be arriving soon in search of the mysterious stranger from the party. They will be looking for you, but you won’t be anywhere you can be seen. And then we’ll see how you plan to defy me again.”

Kagami wanted to growl in frustration, but the pull of the magic was too strong, tugging on him till his head was bowed. He wanted to rail against the injustice, this inevitable downturn of his fate yet again, but Akashi had already left, locking the only door. He crumpled to the ground, unable to hold himself up, and wondered if he’d ever be free.

He could hear the crunch of gravel as horses cantered up the driveway. There was a distant murmur of voices, one soft, one curt. Kagami resigned himself to the painful irony as Akashi denied his very existence and his only opportunity to escape slipped through his fingers. The fire crackled as the beautiful glove burned to ashes. Of course, this was when Kuroko reappeared.

“Giving up already? I’m disappointed in you, Kagami.” Kuroko shook his head reproachfully.

Kagami couldn’t summon up enough surprise to care. He glared at the unhelpful fairy. Kuroko blinked in belated realisation.

“Ah, give me a moment, I can try to undo this binding. I have a new wand now.” A shiny spell-casting device materialized. Kuroko laid a hand on Kagami’s forehead and began to replicate the locking runes in reverse. Two minutes later, Kagami gasped as the weight on his body disappeared.

The fairy looked paler than he already was. “Even with your latent power, that was a strong spell to overcome. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to deal with the door yourself.”

Kagami rolled up his sleeves and prepared to break down the door. “You did enough, Kuroko. Thanks.”

He rammed the heavy oak door with his shoulder, a loud thud resounding through the house. Again, and again, he put his shoulder to the wood until the weak hinges began to give way. Finally, the metal pins came apart with a screech and he tumbled forward into a group of surprised people. He looked up into a pair of keen golden eyes.

“Y-your highness?”

Kise smiled cheerfully as Kasamatsu huffed in relief. “There you are! I thought you were never going to make it on time! We leave in a few days, you know.”

Kagami glanced warily behind the prince, where Akashi was crushing a scroll in his fingers. “I got held up.”

Kise also gave Akashi a considering look. “So I see. Hyuuga, what is the punishment for obstructing and deceiving the crown?”

The chief of law enforcement didn’t miss a beat. “Incarceration, at the very least.”

Kagami had never been happier than when his step-father was dragged off with a thunderous look on his face. When he had finished packing up what few belongings he had, he went off to find a certain magical being. Kuroko was hovering outside, preparing to leave.

“Hey,” began Kagami. “Thanks again for everything. You saved me back there.”

Kuroko turned serious blue eyes to him. “I’m your guardian after all. This is the least I should do.”

Kagami ruffled his spiky hair nervously. “Yeah. What I was going to say though, was, maybe you should be a permanent guardian.”

Kuroko blinked in non-comprehension. “What?”

Kagami exhaled, trying to find the right words. “If you’re stronger around me, then maybe we should stick together. If you don’t mind the occasional life-threatening adventure, that is.”

There was moment of silence as the fairy digested this. Then he nodded. “I’d like that. Us as a team.”

Kagami grinned, relieved. Kuroko smiled back. “I will see you later, Kagami. I believe someone is waiting for you.”

He vanished in a slightly more attention catching blaze of light. Kagami was left to ponder his abrupt disappearance when a familiar voice sounded.

“Here, you forgot something at the ball.” Kise held out a red glove. “Strangely, it wouldn’t fit anybody else.”

Kagami slid the leather over his left hand and smiled. “That’s because it’s special.” He looked up at Kise. “Shall we get going, your highness?”

The prince tilted his head arrogantly. “I should be asking you that. Are you sure you can handle what’s ahead? And it’s Kise to you.”

Kagami could do anything, now that there was a future with friends and a leader as reckless as he was to look forward to. “Bring it on, Kise.”  

The world was a wide, wide place, after all.  

[numberplates4u-blog]

BMW 6-series GT review – a high-class 5-series or a cut price 7-series?

For  Superb drivetrain, classy and spacious interior, supple ride Against  Styling still a little gawky, dynamically not exciting, price of options BMW’s 6-series GT offers space, luxury and refinement and in 630d form a decent drive, too It would seem that it’s all about finding niches to fill these days and one look at the current BMW, Mercedes-Benz and Audi line-ups ably demonstrates this. These not-quite-core models are sometimes derided and BMW’s 5-series GT was one such machine. So it may have come as something of a surprise that it’s reimagined the model and moved it a little further upmarket with a 6-series moniker. In truth it’s not really aimed at UK buyers – China and South Korea combined will take almost half of all 6 GT production during its lifespan – with the UK accounting for just four per cent of sales. It deserves to do better than that over here though as it offers more space than a 5 Series Touring – especially in the rear – has plenty of luxury trappings and isn’t a bad steer by any means. Longer, lower and sleeker than before it’s still not as easy on the eye as an Audi A7 Sportback but it offers more than the A7 in terms of accommodation and standard equipment. Three engine options are offered on the 6 GT – two petrols and one diesel – and it’s this latter model, the 630d GT that is the pick of the bunch, with the 3-litre mill having more than enough urge to propel the GT’s occupants rapidly while being cossetted in its luxurious cabin. Image 8 of 26 Image 8 of 26 BMW 6-series GT: in detail Performance and 0-60 time > The stand out performer is the 640i xDrive with its four-wheel drive assisting its 5.3sec 0-62mph, impressive for a nigh-on two-ton machine. Engine and gearbox > Three turbocharged engines are offered – a 2-litre four-cylinder petrol (630i), a 3-litre six-pot petrol (640i xDrive) and a 3-litre six-cylinder diesel (530d) – and all are equipped with the excellent eight-speed ZF auto.  Ride and handling > Make no mistake the 6 GT is a big, heavy car but it can still be hustled along pretty effectively and seems to share its dynamic DNA with the 5-series rather than the 7-series. Adaptive suspension endows a ride expected of a car with a GT moniker. MPG and running costs > Official figures range from 35.3 to 55.3mpg (640i xDrive and 530d respectively) with the 630i sitting in between. Subtract a ten from those for real world expectations. Design > Beauty is in the eye of the beholder but the 6 GT is much improved over the 5-series GT and it hides its bulk very well when viewed on the road. In the flesh there’s some nice detailing, too. Prices, Specs and Rivals Prices for the new 6-series GT start at £46,810 for the 630i SE and rise to £57,570 for the current range-topping 640i xDrive M Sport with the 630d costing around £1200 less than the equivalent 640i model. For the UK market the 630i is only available with rear-wheel drive, the 640i can only be had as an all-wheel drive xDrive model while the expected best seller, the 630d, can be optioned with either drivetrain. Fortunately, BMW has moved away from its overly complex trim structure and has dropped the slow selling Luxury (and banished the horrendous, but short-lived, Urban trim to the history books) and GT buyers now have a simple choice; SE or M Sport, and BMW UK expects 80-85 per cent of buyers to opt for the latter.  All models are pretty well specced but there’s still an extensive options list to be perused should you find the standard set up lacking. Selected highlights from the standard kit list include 18-inch alloys, eight-speed Sport automatic gearbox, self-levelling rear suspension, electric tailgate and adaptive LED headlights. Inside there’s Dakota leather, BMW’s 10.25-inch on board monitor with Professional Multimedia Navigation system, electric memory seats, two zone climate control, front and rear PDC and a reversing camera, too. M Sport models add 19-inch alloys, an M aero kit, M Sport brakes, M Sport suspension, a Panoramic glass sunroof and a smattering of M specific trim upgrades. Image 1 of 26 Image 1 of 26 Options include several packages – M Sport Plus, Premium, Rear Seat Comfort and Technology – and just about anything that can be fitted to a 7-series can also be added to a 6 GT. If you were so inclined you could have a Head-Up display, Gesture Control, Massage seats, Ambient (scented) air, WiFi hotspot and a host of driver assistance items and the 7-series’ remote key-operated parking gizmo, too. Such is BMW’s penchant for filling niches that some of the most compelling alternatives to the 6 GT come from within its own stable. The 5 Series Touring costs £4000 less in 530d guise but misses out on the 630d GT’s fully electric front seats and adaptive LED headlights and the traditional estate isn’t as roomy either with a smaller (by 40 litres with the seats up) boot and has less rear legroom, too.  The soon to be replaced 6-series Gran Coupe is a less practical but more stylish alternative although it’s considerably pricier and far less commodious. The 6-series GT could also be viewed as a cut-price 7-series if the more expensive car’s additional fripperies aren’t important and it’s worth noting that the GT has the same amount of rear legroom and a bigger boot – and in 630d M Sport guise is a whopping £14k cheaper than a 730d M Sport. Image 11 of 26 Image 11 of 26 The closest rival to the 6 GT is Audi’s aging A7 Sportback, although a replacement is a matter of weeks away. It’s not as commodious as the 6 GT with the BMW having a larger boot and while BMW has stepped up its game in terms of interior design the Audi is still a very decent space to while away the time. In M Sport/S Line guises the equivalent 3.0TDI Audi is marginally (circa £1400) more expensive and has less standard equipment, but counters by being slightly faster that the 630d M Sport. Mercedes’ offering is the, again ageing, CLS and while the Coupe is more in line with the 6-series Gran Coupe the Shooting Brake offers the sort of practicalities that the 6 GT and A7 major on. Despite its nigh-on five-metre length the Shooting Brake can’t match the BMW for space – it’s boot is smaller and with a wheelbase that’s 200mm shorter it’s no surprise the BMW has it beaten in terms of rear legroom, too.  Performance and 0-60 time  BMW might be keen to major on the Gran Turismo side of the GT’s character but despite this the benchmark sprint times demonstrate the big (err, coupe? Saloon? Low-slung SUV?) GT is no slouch. The entry-level 630i is equipped with BMW’s familiar 2-litre four cylinder which develops 255bhp from 5000-65000rpm and 295lb ft between 1550 and 4400rpm giving a 0-62mph time of 6.3sec and a 155mph maximum.  The next rung up the ladder is occupied by the only diesel in the line up, the 530d, and its stats are 261bhp at 4000rpm and a healthy 457lb ft giving a 6.1sec 0-62mph time for the rear-drive model, a figure that’s bettered by 0.1sec by the xDrive four-wheel drive. Image 10 of 26 Image 10 of 26 The range-topper for the time being is the 640i xDrive and its 3-litre turbocharged ’six pushes out 335bhp between 5500 and 6500rpm while that’s backed up by 332lb ft of torque that’s on tap all the way from 1380 to 5200rpm. Aided by its four-wheel drive traction it hits 62mph from rest in a pretty decent 5.3 sec, not bad when you remember it tips the scales at 1910 kilos. We’ve yet to sample the four-cylinder model, but both the diesel and petrol ’sixes feel strong, and while the benchmark sprint might indicate the 640i is the quicker car, on the road the diesel’s 130lb ft torque advantage makes itself felt and of the two it feels the better choice. Keep it spinning in its torque sweet spot and it’ll cover ground deceptively quickly. The petrol does rev eagerly but starts to run out of puff a little towards its top end and as the GT is well insulated from the outside world the straight-six soundtrack isn’t all that conspicuous inside.  Engine and gearbox  All three engines come from BMW’s latest family of modular units with a 500cc cylinder capacity. Living in a world obsessed with downsizing both the petrol-engined models have smaller capacities than suggested by their model names, the 630i utilising the 2-litre four-cylinder TwinPower turbo unit that’s used across the range while the 640i’s 3-litre also uses a single twin-scroll turbo to develop its 335bhp. It’s the latter unit’s torque spread that gives an indication to how it’s been tuned – maximum thrust is available all the way from 1380 to 5200rpm and while it’s happy to rev further there isn’t really anything to be gained from doing so. The 630d does stick to its promised capacity and even in these days of diesel demonification it’s the best engine in the range. Powerful, torquey and (whisper it) actually quite tuneful it does rock the GT along at quite an indecent pace and is as happy heading towards its red line as it is sitting at its torque-rich 2000rpm peak. Refined, economical and tuneful (for a diesel), it’s an engine that’s hard to fault. Image 7 of 26 Image 7 of 26 The standard fit ZF eight-speed auto is familiar not only from the rest of BMW’s range but from countless other applications but BMW does seem to have nailed the software for its cars and that’s certainly the case in the 6 GT. Left to its own devices it imperceptibly shuffles between ratios when you’re pottering along yet it’ll swap cogs in the blink of an eye when on a charge using the standard fit steering wheel paddles.  If you want BMW’s rear-biased xDrive four-wheel drive set up then it’ll be a case of choosing the 640i which is only available in this guise, or adding it at a cost of £2000 to a 630d. Both the cars we tested – 630d and 640i – were so equipped but in the dry conditions we experienced you really don’t notice it’s there for 99 per cent of the time. Only when really attacking a tight corner do you have an inkling that the front end’s receiving some additional assistance. Other BMWs – 530d and 730d which are both based on the same platform – work well without xDrive so unless you live in a part of the country that’s regularly subjected to severely inclement conditions we’d save the £2000. evo tip Having driven both diesel and petrol models we’d recommend the 630d over its faster (on-paper) 640i xDrive counterpart. The diesel’s stronger torque not only enhances the driving experience but has the performance to get the best of the 6 GT’s not inconsiderable weight. It can also be pretty frugal when not on a charge – it even sounds pretty decent, too. It’s cheaper to buy and it’s the 630d version of the car that garners it a four-star rating.  Ride and handling  The 6 GT shares its platform with both the 5- and 7-series, although the GT uses the longer car’s architecture and shares its wheelbase with the Seven. Up front there are double wishbones while at the rear there’s a multi-link set up and self-levelling air suspension and ride quality can be adjusted between Comfort, Adaptive and Sport. Both our test cars were equipped with optional (at a hefty £1670) Adaptive twin axle air suspension and while it certainly assisted the GT in riding very well over a wide range of surfaces we would like to sample a car on the standard set up to confirm its ride credentials. The 6-series GT is a big car but the use of aluminium and high-tensile steel has kept kerb weight down, despite it not featuring the 7-series’ carbon core. At 1900kg the 630d GT (rear-wheel drive) is a healthy 115kg less than the old 5-series GT and only 75kg more than the equivalent 530d Touring and on UK roads the 630d GT felt closer to a Five than a Seven when it came to driving dynamics. If you bear in mind that it’s never going to feel like an M3 on the back roads the 530d can be hustled along very effectively, turning in well unless you’re overly ambitious while the 3-litre diesel’s decent slug of torque punches it out of corners with some pace. The diesel’s more impressive than the 640i petrol in this regard, feeling fleeter of foot on the move and less strained getting back up to speed.  Image 20 of 26 Image 20 of 26 Neither model has what you would call inspiring steering – you can place the GT accurately enough but there’s not much in the way of feedback, but it’s unlikely to be a stumbling block for most buyers. The 640i tested was equipped with BMW’s Integral Active Steering and while it’s much less intrusive than it used to be we wouldn’t option it unless all our driving was going to be in town where its quicker slow-speed reflexes come in handy.  The M Sport models we tested come as standard with BMW’s M Sport braking system – larger discs and four-piston front calipers – and these proved more than man enough to repeatedly haul nigh on two-tons down to appropriate cornering speeds although the pedal isn’t desperately feelsome. evo comment 'Such luxury doesn’t usually go hand in hand with driving thrills, and that’s still the case with the 640i. It feels ponderous as you try to feed it around corners at any reasonable pace; the steering is light and indistinct, the body rolls and the brakes do not inspire confidence, especially down hill.' MPG and running costs BMW’s latest generation of engines offer an excellent blend of power and economy when it comes to claimed figures although as with all manufacturers real-world MPG won’t match the showroom claims. The 630i GT is claimed to return 43.4mpg with emissions of 148g/km while the 640i xDrive comes in at 35.3mpg and 183g/km. Unsurprisingly it’s the diesel that should be the economy champion with 55.3mpg (49.5 for the xDrive) on the combined cycle with emissions of 135g/km (150 with four-wheel drive).  Realistically we’d knock up to 10mpg off those figures, and the 640i in particular seemed to like a drink when using the performance whereas the 630d was a little more parsimonious while on test. With a three-year unlimited mileage warranty and the option to lock in servicing costs with BMW’s fixed price plans ownership should be a painless experience while residuals should sit in between the 5- and 7-series. Design The previous incarnation of this car – the 5-series GT – was often lambasted for its gawky styling and while the 6-series version hasn’t quite pulled off the ugly duckling metamorphosis it makes a passable attempt at a swan. Overall it’s 21mm lower than before, and perhaps most crucially the rear end is 64mm lower and along with the increase in length by 87mm the overall shape is sleeker than before. On the road seen in amongst other traffic the GT doesn’t look overly large and hides its bulk well, the less intimidating kidney grilles (they’re more akin to the 5-series than the 7-series’ overly large nostils) help here. There’s some neat detailing too, the LED rear lights are strongly sculpted while the ‘Icon’ BMW LED headlights retain the family look. Image 23 of 26 Image 23 of 26 It’s inside that BMW has really concentrated it efforts and the overall architecture is shared with the Five and the Seven which are now at the top of their game. The 10.25-inch monitor can be used as a touch screen or with the iDrive controller and the Professional Multimedia system is second to none being both intuitive and informative.  There’s a feeling of space that you don’t quite get with a 5-series Touring and those in the rear have plenty of head room while the longer wheelbase over a Five ensures there’s acres of leg room too. Boot space is huge – 610-litres with the seats up, 1800 with them folded – considerably more (110- and 110-litres respectively) than in the 5-series GT and larger than the new 5-series Touring, too. There are a raft of options to choose from – ventilated, massaging seats, gesture control (don’t bother), Apple CarPlay and Bowers & Wilkins surround sound – but the standard machine comes with just about everything you could realistically need. 13 Oct 2017

http://www.evo.co.uk/bmw/6-series

[privateplates4u]

BMW 6-series GT review – a high-class 5-series or a cut price 7-series?

For  Superb drivetrain, classy and spacious interior, supple ride Against  Styling still a little gawky, dynamically not exciting, price of options BMW’s 6-series GT offers space, luxury and refinement and in 630d form a decent drive, too It would seem that it’s all about finding niches to fill these days and one look at the current BMW, Mercedes-Benz and Audi line-ups ably demonstrates this. These not-quite-core models are sometimes derided and BMW’s 5-series GT was one such machine. So it may have come as something of a surprise that it’s reimagined the model and moved it a little further upmarket with a 6-series moniker. In truth it’s not really aimed at UK buyers – China and South Korea combined will take almost half of all 6 GT production during its lifespan – with the UK accounting for just four per cent of sales. It deserves to do better than that over here though as it offers more space than a 5 Series Touring – especially in the rear – has plenty of luxury trappings and isn’t a bad steer by any means. Longer, lower and sleeker than before it’s still not as easy on the eye as an Audi A7 Sportback but it offers more than the A7 in terms of accommodation and standard equipment. Three engine options are offered on the 6 GT – two petrols and one diesel – and it’s this latter model, the 630d GT that is the pick of the bunch, with the 3-litre mill having more than enough urge to propel the GT’s occupants rapidly while being cossetted in its luxurious cabin. Image 8 of 26 Image 8 of 26 BMW 6-series GT: in detail Performance and 0-60 time > The stand out performer is the 640i xDrive with its four-wheel drive assisting its 5.3sec 0-62mph, impressive for a nigh-on two-ton machine. Engine and gearbox > Three turbocharged engines are offered – a 2-litre four-cylinder petrol (630i), a 3-litre six-pot petrol (640i xDrive) and a 3-litre six-cylinder diesel (530d) – and all are equipped with the excellent eight-speed ZF auto.  Ride and handling > Make no mistake the 6 GT is a big, heavy car but it can still be hustled along pretty effectively and seems to share its dynamic DNA with the 5-series rather than the 7-series. Adaptive suspension endows a ride expected of a car with a GT moniker. MPG and running costs > Official figures range from 35.3 to 55.3mpg (640i xDrive and 530d respectively) with the 630i sitting in between. Subtract a ten from those for real world expectations. Design > Beauty is in the eye of the beholder but the 6 GT is much improved over the 5-series GT and it hides its bulk very well when viewed on the road. In the flesh there’s some nice detailing, too. Prices, Specs and Rivals Prices for the new 6-series GT start at £46,810 for the 630i SE and rise to £57,570 for the current range-topping 640i xDrive M Sport with the 630d costing around £1200 less than the equivalent 640i model. For the UK market the 630i is only available with rear-wheel drive, the 640i can only be had as an all-wheel drive xDrive model while the expected best seller, the 630d, can be optioned with either drivetrain. Fortunately, BMW has moved away from its overly complex trim structure and has dropped the slow selling Luxury (and banished the horrendous, but short-lived, Urban trim to the history books) and GT buyers now have a simple choice; SE or M Sport, and BMW UK expects 80-85 per cent of buyers to opt for the latter.  All models are pretty well specced but there’s still an extensive options list to be perused should you find the standard set up lacking. Selected highlights from the standard kit list include 18-inch alloys, eight-speed Sport automatic gearbox, self-levelling rear suspension, electric tailgate and adaptive LED headlights. Inside there’s Dakota leather, BMW’s 10.25-inch on board monitor with Professional Multimedia Navigation system, electric memory seats, two zone climate control, front and rear PDC and a reversing camera, too. M Sport models add 19-inch alloys, an M aero kit, M Sport brakes, M Sport suspension, a Panoramic glass sunroof and a smattering of M specific trim upgrades. Image 1 of 26 Image 1 of 26 Options include several packages – M Sport Plus, Premium, Rear Seat Comfort and Technology – and just about anything that can be fitted to a 7-series can also be added to a 6 GT. If you were so inclined you could have a Head-Up display, Gesture Control, Massage seats, Ambient (scented) air, WiFi hotspot and a host of driver assistance items and the 7-series’ remote key-operated parking gizmo, too. Such is BMW’s penchant for filling niches that some of the most compelling alternatives to the 6 GT come from within its own stable. The 5 Series Touring costs £4000 less in 530d guise but misses out on the 630d GT’s fully electric front seats and adaptive LED headlights and the traditional estate isn’t as roomy either with a smaller (by 40 litres with the seats up) boot and has less rear legroom, too.  The soon to be replaced 6-series Gran Coupe is a less practical but more stylish alternative although it’s considerably pricier and far less commodious. The 6-series GT could also be viewed as a cut-price 7-series if the more expensive car’s additional fripperies aren’t important and it’s worth noting that the GT has the same amount of rear legroom and a bigger boot – and in 630d M Sport guise is a whopping £14k cheaper than a 730d M Sport. Image 11 of 26 Image 11 of 26 The closest rival to the 6 GT is Audi’s aging A7 Sportback, although a replacement is a matter of weeks away. It’s not as commodious as the 6 GT with the BMW having a larger boot and while BMW has stepped up its game in terms of interior design the Audi is still a very decent space to while away the time. In M Sport/S Line guises the equivalent 3.0TDI Audi is marginally (circa £1400) more expensive and has less standard equipment, but counters by being slightly faster that the 630d M Sport. Mercedes’ offering is the, again ageing, CLS and while the Coupe is more in line with the 6-series Gran Coupe the Shooting Brake offers the sort of practicalities that the 6 GT and A7 major on. Despite its nigh-on five-metre length the Shooting Brake can’t match the BMW for space – it’s boot is smaller and with a wheelbase that’s 200mm shorter it’s no surprise the BMW has it beaten in terms of rear legroom, too.  Performance and 0-60 time  BMW might be keen to major on the Gran Turismo side of the GT’s character but despite this the benchmark sprint times demonstrate the big (err, coupe? Saloon? Low-slung SUV?) GT is no slouch. The entry-level 630i is equipped with BMW’s familiar 2-litre four cylinder which develops 255bhp from 5000-65000rpm and 295lb ft between 1550 and 4400rpm giving a 0-62mph time of 6.3sec and a 155mph maximum.  The next rung up the ladder is occupied by the only diesel in the line up, the 530d, and its stats are 261bhp at 4000rpm and a healthy 457lb ft giving a 6.1sec 0-62mph time for the rear-drive model, a figure that’s bettered by 0.1sec by the xDrive four-wheel drive. Image 10 of 26 Image 10 of 26 The range-topper for the time being is the 640i xDrive and its 3-litre turbocharged ’six pushes out 335bhp between 5500 and 6500rpm while that’s backed up by 332lb ft of torque that’s on tap all the way from 1380 to 5200rpm. Aided by its four-wheel drive traction it hits 62mph from rest in a pretty decent 5.3 sec, not bad when you remember it tips the scales at 1910 kilos. We’ve yet to sample the four-cylinder model, but both the diesel and petrol ’sixes feel strong, and while the benchmark sprint might indicate the 640i is the quicker car, on the road the diesel’s 130lb ft torque advantage makes itself felt and of the two it feels the better choice. Keep it spinning in its torque sweet spot and it’ll cover ground deceptively quickly. The petrol does rev eagerly but starts to run out of puff a little towards its top end and as the GT is well insulated from the outside world the straight-six soundtrack isn’t all that conspicuous inside.  Engine and gearbox  All three engines come from BMW’s latest family of modular units with a 500cc cylinder capacity. Living in a world obsessed with downsizing both the petrol-engined models have smaller capacities than suggested by their model names, the 630i utilising the 2-litre four-cylinder TwinPower turbo unit that’s used across the range while the 640i’s 3-litre also uses a single twin-scroll turbo to develop its 335bhp. It’s the latter unit’s torque spread that gives an indication to how it’s been tuned – maximum thrust is available all the way from 1380 to 5200rpm and while it’s happy to rev further there isn’t really anything to be gained from doing so. The 630d does stick to its promised capacity and even in these days of diesel demonification it’s the best engine in the range. Powerful, torquey and (whisper it) actually quite tuneful it does rock the GT along at quite an indecent pace and is as happy heading towards its red line as it is sitting at its torque-rich 2000rpm peak. Refined, economical and tuneful (for a diesel), it’s an engine that’s hard to fault. Image 7 of 26 Image 7 of 26 The standard fit ZF eight-speed auto is familiar not only from the rest of BMW’s range but from countless other applications but BMW does seem to have nailed the software for its cars and that’s certainly the case in the 6 GT. Left to its own devices it imperceptibly shuffles between ratios when you’re pottering along yet it’ll swap cogs in the blink of an eye when on a charge using the standard fit steering wheel paddles.  If you want BMW’s rear-biased xDrive four-wheel drive set up then it’ll be a case of choosing the 640i which is only available in this guise, or adding it at a cost of £2000 to a 630d. Both the cars we tested – 630d and 640i – were so equipped but in the dry conditions we experienced you really don’t notice it’s there for 99 per cent of the time. Only when really attacking a tight corner do you have an inkling that the front end’s receiving some additional assistance. Other BMWs – 530d and 730d which are both based on the same platform – work well without xDrive so unless you live in a part of the country that’s regularly subjected to severely inclement conditions we’d save the £2000. evo tip Having driven both diesel and petrol models we’d recommend the 630d over its faster (on-paper) 640i xDrive counterpart. The diesel’s stronger torque not only enhances the driving experience but has the performance to get the best of the 6 GT’s not inconsiderable weight. It can also be pretty frugal when not on a charge – it even sounds pretty decent, too. It’s cheaper to buy and it’s the 630d version of the car that garners it a four-star rating.  Ride and handling  The 6 GT shares its platform with both the 5- and 7-series, although the GT uses the longer car’s architecture and shares its wheelbase with the Seven. Up front there are double wishbones while at the rear there’s a multi-link set up and self-levelling air suspension and ride quality can be adjusted between Comfort, Adaptive and Sport. Both our test cars were equipped with optional (at a hefty £1670) Adaptive twin axle air suspension and while it certainly assisted the GT in riding very well over a wide range of surfaces we would like to sample a car on the standard set up to confirm its ride credentials. The 6-series GT is a big car but the use of aluminium and high-tensile steel has kept kerb weight down, despite it not featuring the 7-series’ carbon core. At 1900kg the 630d GT (rear-wheel drive) is a healthy 115kg less than the old 5-series GT and only 75kg more than the equivalent 530d Touring and on UK roads the 630d GT felt closer to a Five than a Seven when it came to driving dynamics. If you bear in mind that it’s never going to feel like an M3 on the back roads the 530d can be hustled along very effectively, turning in well unless you’re overly ambitious while the 3-litre diesel’s decent slug of torque punches it out of corners with some pace. The diesel’s more impressive than the 640i petrol in this regard, feeling fleeter of foot on the move and less strained getting back up to speed.  Image 20 of 26 Image 20 of 26 Neither model has what you would call inspiring steering – you can place the GT accurately enough but there’s not much in the way of feedback, but it’s unlikely to be a stumbling block for most buyers. The 640i tested was equipped with BMW’s Integral Active Steering and while it’s much less intrusive than it used to be we wouldn’t option it unless all our driving was going to be in town where its quicker slow-speed reflexes come in handy.  The M Sport models we tested come as standard with BMW’s M Sport braking system – larger discs and four-piston front calipers – and these proved more than man enough to repeatedly haul nigh on two-tons down to appropriate cornering speeds although the pedal isn’t desperately feelsome. evo comment 'Such luxury doesn’t usually go hand in hand with driving thrills, and that’s still the case with the 640i. It feels ponderous as you try to feed it around corners at any reasonable pace; the steering is light and indistinct, the body rolls and the brakes do not inspire confidence, especially down hill.' MPG and running costs BMW’s latest generation of engines offer an excellent blend of power and economy when it comes to claimed figures although as with all manufacturers real-world MPG won’t match the showroom claims. The 630i GT is claimed to return 43.4mpg with emissions of 148g/km while the 640i xDrive comes in at 35.3mpg and 183g/km. Unsurprisingly it’s the diesel that should be the economy champion with 55.3mpg (49.5 for the xDrive) on the combined cycle with emissions of 135g/km (150 with four-wheel drive).  Realistically we’d knock up to 10mpg off those figures, and the 640i in particular seemed to like a drink when using the performance whereas the 630d was a little more parsimonious while on test. With a three-year unlimited mileage warranty and the option to lock in servicing costs with BMW’s fixed price plans ownership should be a painless experience while residuals should sit in between the 5- and 7-series. Design The previous incarnation of this car – the 5-series GT – was often lambasted for its gawky styling and while the 6-series version hasn’t quite pulled off the ugly duckling metamorphosis it makes a passable attempt at a swan. Overall it’s 21mm lower than before, and perhaps most crucially the rear end is 64mm lower and along with the increase in length by 87mm the overall shape is sleeker than before. On the road seen in amongst other traffic the GT doesn’t look overly large and hides its bulk well, the less intimidating kidney grilles (they’re more akin to the 5-series than the 7-series’ overly large nostils) help here. There’s some neat detailing too, the LED rear lights are strongly sculpted while the ‘Icon’ BMW LED headlights retain the family look. Image 23 of 26 Image 23 of 26 It’s inside that BMW has really concentrated it efforts and the overall architecture is shared with the Five and the Seven which are now at the top of their game. The 10.25-inch monitor can be used as a touch screen or with the iDrive controller and the Professional Multimedia system is second to none being both intuitive and informative.  There’s a feeling of space that you don’t quite get with a 5-series Touring and those in the rear have plenty of head room while the longer wheelbase over a Five ensures there’s acres of leg room too. Boot space is huge – 610-litres with the seats up, 1800 with them folded – considerably more (110- and 110-litres respectively) than in the 5-series GT and larger than the new 5-series Touring, too. There are a raft of options to choose from – ventilated, massaging seats, gesture control (don’t bother), Apple CarPlay and Bowers & Wilkins surround sound – but the standard machine comes with just about everything you could realistically need. 13 Oct 2017

http://www.evo.co.uk/bmw/6-series