#finally transitioning out of crouching with her and being able to stand with her instead when the judge is looking HOWEVER

[fjordfolk]

1st batch of dog show pics dropped and while it is a horror to be perceived i gotta say it does help give tips both on how to better show your dog and how to yknow act like a human (photos by reidun monsholm)

[aristidetwain]

The Shared Dalek Universe of the 1960s: A Case Study

In 2011 (a little over ten years ago!), El Sandifer cited my dearly-beloved 1960s Who Annuals as examples of stories which ended up influencing the TV series many years down the line despite making an unrepentant hash of continuity. 

Her first example is that the Doctor is called Dr. Who, and that he alternates between being from Earth on one page, and not being from Earth three pages later. I would point out that TV was doing much the same thing in those days, and went on flip-flopping basically until Jon Pertwee, so it’s not a terribly good argument to begin with.

However, she spends more time pondering the Daleks of the comics. These Daleks, she notes, are very different from those on television at the time. There are hordes of them, they travel in fleets of saucers, and they’re ruled by the Emperor. This contradiction, she argues, later fed back into the TV series in the RTD era, when huge fleets of Daleks became the norm and, earlier but still well after the first burst of Annuals, in the form of Patrick Troughton facing a very different Dalek Emperor in The Evil of the Daleks.

In no way do I wish to undermine Sandifer’s ultimate conclusion that “canon” in the sense of diegetic consistency is a red herring of little importance, and what matters for any sane definition of ‘canon’ is whether a story is referenced at all, not whether it’s contradicted. 

However.

Having gone back to 1966′s The Dalek Outer Space Book, I have made a very startling discovery, in the story entitled The Secret of the Emperor. The rest is after the cut; I will leave you with a delightful panel from this story, showing the “bewildered” Dalek Emperor being bullied by knights at the Battle of Agincourt. (This is one of my favourite Doctor Who images ever, and if it doesn’t put a smile on your face I am not sure I want to take you seriously.)

So, famously, when he debuted in the comics, the Dalek Emperor was not the giant, static Dalek later shown on television in The Evil of the Daleks and The Bad Wolf of the Ways; instead, he was golden, squat, and had a bulbous head; to house all the ego, one expects. 

Thus, most people will point at the fact that when the Doctor met “the Emperor” in The Evil of the Daleks, he resided in a huge tower-like casing in the Dalek City, as evidence that although ideas received a first treatment in the comics which later made it to screens, no direct continuity was intended; the comics’ Emperor was an alternate, a first draft, to be discarded once a more definitive TV portrayal emerged. 

And yet, of course, it is somehow appealing to think of the two as the same Dalek, isn’t it? John Peel (Dalek writer voted most likely to be a 19th century Victorian man who stumbled into a time eddy; it’s mostly the remarkable sideburns) spent a lot of time in his Dalek novels establishing the life story of the Dalek Prime, the First Dalek Ever, who transitioned from the globe-headed casing to the towery Evil one and then deeply regretted it, what with the “getting killed by his own infighting troops with no way to escape”.

But this is usually viewed as a retcon. A cute retcon, an admirable retcon even, but a retcon. My good friend and esteemed fellow canon-welder, @rassilon-imprimatur​, espoused such a view four years ago:

Well, all of this is, if you’ll pardon my French, bollocks. John Peel didn’t make anything up, except for the snappy name of “the Dalek Prime” as a designation for the individual. The Dalek Emperor in Evil of the Daleks was always the Emperor of the 1960s comics, and there is a very good reason for his seemingly-contradictory change of appearance. What’s more, I am not talking about murky authorial intent: these are things that the discerning Dalek fan in 1967 was meant to have known.

Let me wind back the clock to 1966. A Dalek master-plan is unfurling, a multi-media agenda spanning several years, more ambitious perhaps than even Time Lord Victorious in its scope; for the ultimate aim of a small cabal of men including David Whitaker, Terry Nation and Brad Ashton is nothing less than spinning the Daleks out of Doctor Who and into their own non-BBC TV show — to be made in America, and in colour, if you please! 

For over a year now, a Dalek story arc has been running in the pages of TV Century 21, tracking the early rise of the Dalek Empire and its early interactions with 2060s humanity. Though the Daleks encroach over other parts of the book, including the headline stories, the bulk of this story arc comes in the form of weekly one-page comics making up one long serialised history of the Daleks, under the minimalist title of The Daleks.

Also under the solo brand of “The Daleks”: Annuals, an exclusive audio story, and, of course, toys. Time for Phase Two. It is time to end the Daleks’ endless confrontations with Dr Who on television, and set the stage for a new status quo able to support the TV series Nation dreams about. 

Important background: Terry Nation, famously, does not like the Dalek Emperor. Whitaker made him up without consulting Nation, who maintains that the highest rank in the Dalek hierarchy should be the Dalek Supreme. The Emperor was hard to do away with in the comics, since he was basically the protagonist of the TV21 strip, but one imagines Nation was keen to jettison him from the world of the planned TV series. 

I am speculating, of course, but I picture Nation sitting in his office, pondering the two great thorns in the side of the Independant Daleks Masterplan. 

Thorn one: the Daleks are entangled with the Doctor both diegetically and symbolically; unless something can be done, the Daleks will remain “the Doctor’s enemies”, and a show where they commit evil and the Doctor fails to show up would ring false with the kids watching. The Daleks must be removed from Doctor Who in a sensational and definitive manner, or the whole enterprise is a nonstarter.

Thorn two: I, Terry Nation, have foolishly allowed David Whitaker to shape the lore of the Daleks, and he has made this Dalek Emperor guy very central to early Dalek history, leading up to the 22nd century Dalek Invasion of Earth that most of the Doctor’s subsequent conflicts with the Daleks have stemmed from. But I do not like the Dalek Emperor. I wish I could get rid of him in my new status quo. 

…………Aha.

A triumphant Terry Nation adds a post-it note to the ever-widening corkboard representing the multimedia Dalek Masterplan setting up the TV series, which must already include things like “convince Jean Marsh to come back as Sara Kingdom”. Notes distilled from this corkboard will form the backbone of The Dalek Outer Space Book, this year’s Dalek annual, which exists principally to set up the prospective main characters of the new TV series: Sara Kingdom and Agent Mark Seven, of the Space Security Service. 

The new post-it note reads:

Construe the Daleks’ enmity with the Doctor as a personal enmity between the Doctor and the Emperor, a la Sherlock Holmes and Moriarty. Have the Doctor triumph over the Emperor on TV in a big ‘event’ story. 

Result: the Doctor-vs-Daleks storyline is over; the Emperor is dead; I get everything I ever wanted. 

(Except maybe a pony.)

Then he phones David Whitaker, smirking all the while like an evil genie preparing to grant a badly-worded wish. 

“Good news, old chap, I’ve decided you can write a new Dalek story for the BBC, all by yourself. I promise I won’t interfere.”

*confused and delighted David Whitaker noises*

“ And you can even bring in that Dalek Emperor of yours. Yes, you heard me!”

*Whitaker enthusiasm intensifies*

“Ahhh, but there’s a catch. The Dalek Emperor must DIE.”

Of course, like all good Faustian bargains, this is irresistible even though it is ruinous and the victim knows it to be ruinous. Whitaker agrees to the scheme. He and Nation begin planning out the events of the great finale of the Dalek-Doctor confrontation, which will hit the screens in 1967 as the mildly racist, but otherwise quite well-loved, ‘The Evil of the Daleks’. 

Quickly enough, it is decided that Patrick Troughton crouching to berate the short and bubble-headed Golden Emperor would look silly. If the Emperor appears on TV, alongside human performers, then it should tower over them. Besides, this is to be the archvillainous Dalek Emperor’s last stand, and certain traditions must be followed.

Hence another task is added to the bucketlist of the Dalek Outer Space Book: tell the story of how the Emperor transformed from the globe-headed dwarf to some huge and terrible towering form under the Dalek City, for the Doctor to stumble onto later. This rebuilt Emperor may be teased, but must not be truly seen or truly defeated in the book; that would defeat the whole idea. 

Hence, The Secret of the Emperor, a story which sees the Emperor becoming self-conscious about his own efficiency and letting the Scientist Daleks rebuild his casing from scratch. The final page is a splash panel, a delightfully nonsensical diagram of the mechanical components of the new casing. 

The almost surreal array of colours and shapes is so arresting as to obscure an important detai. Many have seen this page over and over, and yet still missed it. The recent(ish) ‘Anatomy of the New Dalek Emperor’ artwork from Time Lord Victorious clearly looked at this page for reference, in spite of the fact that the TLV Emperor is much more inspired by the old Emperor than the rebuilt one.

Let me spell it out for you: look at the Scientist Daleks in the top right and centre-left. Look at them.

The new Emperor is huge.

And what else? 

That Scientist on the left is plugging huge wires snaking from the wall into the tower-casing. 

He now resides in the Great Hall of the Dalek City.

The background wall is a weird checkered pattern.

In addition, the following facts are seeded throughout the earlier pages of The Secret of the Emperor.

The point of moving to the new casing was to grant the Emperor increased brain capacity (suitable for concocting masterplans).

He acquired said increased brain capacity to help the Daleks attempt to overcome humanity once and for all. 

The Emperor has recently had a trautmatic but eye-opening experience with time travel. 

Ignore the fact that the Emperor was here depicted with what appears to be a still fairly bulbous, and golden, head, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that this is very, very direct setup for how the Doctor finds the Dalek Emperor in The Evil of the Daleks — tower-like, in an imperial throneroom in the Dalek City, with a checkered wall pattern, planning out a complicated scheme to harness time travel as a means of defeating humanity once and for all!

Yes, the designs don’t quite match — but how could the artist behind the visuals of Secret of the Emperor have known precisely what Shawcraft would build, a year later, based on the same basic description by Nation & Whitaker? The parallels far outweigh the minor differences in execution. (It’s worth noting that elsewhere in the Outer Space Book a different artist drew what was clearly intended to be the Golden Emperor as a large, golden, but normally-proportioned Dalek, so it’s not like the visual descriptions of these scripts were exceedingly precise…)

The rebuilt Emperor is never seen in the Outer Space Book outside of this ‘dissection’: he is heard throughout The Brain Tappers but kept carefully off-panel, and his new and dangerous new casing is pointedly not destroyed in the story’s conclusion. Well, of course not. That’s what Dr Who is for.

tl;dr: it is not a post hoc retcon, or even a secret, that the round-headed Emperor of the comics became the Dalek Emperor of Evil of the Daleks. A holistic view of the state of Dalek media in 1966-1967 shows that, in fact, it was the whole point that this be the Emperor of the comics; and that the comics had begun setting this up long before Patrick Troughton encountered Edward Waterfield on TV.

And thus, to circle back to Sandifer’s 2011 post, it is not enough to simply say that the “seemingly non-canon” comics inspired the show down the line. In fact in this instance, what appeared on Doctor Who existed for the benefit of the Daleks spin-off — not vice-versa!

[sumsebien]

Idk if you take requests but could you do an imagine with matthias? I dont really have much of an idea but maybe much like the show. I thought him and nina were adorable and the reader is an inferni or maybe a heartrender? I’m not sure. I just want to see a story with the progression shown in the show. I thought the scene where they were messing with each other and then he saved nina was so flipping cute.

hi! so i tried writing this 🥲i actually got great ideas for it but i’m getting a bad case of writer’s block. so for now, here are the headcanons for it. i’ll come back to writing it when i feel like myself again 🥺

i put my own spin to this. i hope it’s alright 🥲

(also yall, i am thinking about doing a blurb night aka a night of just writing short requests. should i do it???)

So I was thinking what if that day, Fedyor had brought Matthias back as captive???

And he was getting beaten up while being dragged through the camps to his cells when you saw him.

The soldiers were throwing rocks, shoving Matthias around.

And he couldn’t fight back because he was unconscious from before.

You stepped in like the badass you were.

“What are you doing?”

“Fighting for our country, darling. So one day, I may come home to you,” one of them said.

The rest began laughing, praising their friend for the “smart” comeback.

Yeah, they ain’t laughing for long though.

You threw a punch, knocking the soldier to the ground.

No one could have another word.

Then, you brought Matthias back to your tent to heal him.

Even though you knew fully well how Aleksander would react once he found out.

And he did just before you finished healing him.

You were immediately summoned to his tent where you saw the soldier from before again.

His nose was badly bent, positively broken from the blow.

You were proud.

When he saw you, he tried to lie, “That’s her! There she is, sir! The traitor! She pushed me.”

You snickered.

Coward.

Aleksander was having none of it.

You were his trusted Healer and he was not about to stand there and have this idiot slander you.

“Miss Y/N Y/L/N is a Healer, my Healer. So, I would suggest you watch your tongue.”

The soldier shut up

“Is it true? Did you-push him?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

“No. I punched him.”

Now it’s important to note that Aleksander had always had a soft spot for you.

He was almost a brother to you, swore to protect you and all.

So for your punishment, you got a warning.

Of course that was before he found out that the rumors were true.

About you saving a Drüskelle.

He ran a hand down his face. “Why?”

“Because! They were bullying him. He was already in handcuffs in transit to his cell. Don’t you care that your prisoner-”

“Are you so naive to believe that if he had the chance, he wouldn’t hang you on a pyre and burn you alive?”

“He was unconscious! He couldn’t have-“

It pained him, almost, to look at you and hear all these words you were saying right now.

“I didn’t want to do this,” he said, shaking his head. “Ivan, make sure Y/N doesn’t leave her tent.”

“You want to lock me up?”

“I can’t have you in danger.”

You were brought back to your tent.

But of course you had no plans on staying still.

Not until you had finished healing him.

When Ivan was distracted by Fedyor at dinner time, you sneaked out to the makeshift prison, the keys in your hand.

You found your heart beating twice as fast when you got there, sneaking in and essentially putting yourself in the same room as a Drüskelle.

There, you found Matthias on a bed of straws in the far back, slumped against the moldy walls.

Even in the horrible lighting, he was still gorgeous.

You slowly made your way over before crouching down by his side.

He was asleep, chest moving up and down with each breath he took.

You quickly healed the bruises by his cheeks, watching them fade underneath your fingertips.

And then after they had completely disappeared, you had to fight the urge not to caress his cheeks.

They looked so soft.

Almost kissable.

You finally ended your internal debate by brushing your thumb over his cheekbone.

You had fully expected him to still be asleep.

It had been a long day after all.

But his russet lashes fluttered open, revealing a pair of clear blue eyes.

You almost jumped out of your skin, falling back, slamming your hand against the cold floors.

If he jumped forward, he would be able to strangle you easily. And you’d be dead in minutes.

“I am not trying to hurt you! I swear!” you threw your hands up, keeping them apart. “i’m a healer!”

“Are you alright?” he asked, sitting up.

You were too shocked to be able to say anything. Instead, you blinked in silence, scanning his face. What?

Matthias thought you didn’t understand so he held up his chained hand and gestured to it with the other one.

“... I am okay.”

He grinned weakly, “Good.”

He had the most endearing lilt in his voice when he spoke. It scared you, almost. It was not your intention. You were here to heal him. Not swoon over him.

What was this madness?

He held out his hand, “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For saving my life.”

You decided to take his hand in that moment, abandoning all the things Aleksander had taught you about Fjerdans.

“Matthias. My name’s Matthias Helvar,” he said, looking straight into your eyes.

His eyes were the color of the sky on a sunny summer day, the color of the calm True Sea.

“Y/N.”

He nodded, squeezing your hand gently before letting go and leaned back against the block of straws.

“So you don’t want to kill me...?” you asked after a pause.

He looked at you as if you just asked the oddest, stupidest question ever. “You saved me. Even though, I may not be alive for much longer. Thank you anyways. You should leave soon though. They’ll come looking.”

You looked at the entrance. The guards were too busy with their dinners right now to care about a prisoner.

Matthias had his face turned away into the shadows, his chained hand hanging limply on the ground.

He had accepted his fate as a prisoner in Ravka.

Death.

But you hadn’t accepted that.

You stuffed the key into the lock, your hands trembling as you watched it fall apart.

“Y-“

“Run!”

[bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture]

And so preparations for the final event begin! Let’s see if these being one on one matches helps me get through them a bit faster when I’m not having to transcribe quite so much action all at once.

[No. 32 - Smile, Prince of Nonsense Land!]

Another character profile to start out with! (I swear I’m gonna have to make a post compiling these once we’ve gotten all of them for class 1a… maybe run a comparison with the end of chapter profiles? Eh shrug.)

I swear, my instincts say that something that that tail should not be as flexible as it is because of its circumference. I know, I know, quirks, freaking magic, don’t think about it, but still. It’s a very straightforward quirk with a surprising amount of utility, and he makes full use of it. Good for him! Now, onto the chapter proper.

Kirishima is pretty hyped for a tournament, thinking about how they’ll be up in ‘that ring he sees on TV every year.’ Mina asks him if it was a tournament last year as well, but Sero’s the one to answer - the format’s always different, but most years involve some kind of head to head competition. (Apparently the year before theirs involved foam sword fighting, and now I’m incredibly disappointed we didn’t get to see that for this sports festival finale… would have been absolutely hilarious.)

Midnight holds up a box of lots, saying that match-ups will be decided by drawing lots. Once that’s done, they’ll move on to the festivities and then the tournament itself. It’s up to each of the sixteen finalists whether or not they participate in the fun, since she figures some of them would rather take a breather and save their strength. 

She starts to call for the first place team to draw lots, but Ojiro raises his hand, calling for her attention. He then states that he’d like to drop out, much to the shock of the others. Someone (I think Kirishima?) asks him why, since this is his chance of being noticed by the pros. Ojiro stats that he has no memories of the cavalry battle or anything that happened in it up until the tail end. And it’s probably his quirk that did that. 

Ohh, ominous. And Izuku’s really concerned for Ojiro here. Ojiro states that he knows this is a great opportunity, and he knows it seems stupid to throw it away, but this final turnament… everyone else made it with their own strength. But he’s standing here and he doesn’t even know how or why. He just can’t take it. 

Hagakure says that he’s thinking about it too hard, and that he can just show what he’s made of in the tournament. Mina agrees, saying that by that logic, she shouldn’t really be here either. Ojiro starts crying, hiding his face in his hand as he shakes, explaining that he’s talking about his pride here. He doesn’t think it’s right. (He also has no idea why the girls are dressed like that. Really, the entire cheerleader gimmick seems a bit… awkward, here.)

Izuku has no idea what to say. But class B’s Nirengeki does - kind of. He admits that he can’t remember anything either, so he wants to withdraw as well. This is a contest of skill, so letting someone who didn’t do anything advance… doesn’t that defeat the whole point of the sports festival? Isn’t it against the rules?

Kirishima starts to tear up, calling the two manly. Up in the booth, Present Mic announces the strange turn of events, while Aizawa wonders what Midnight, as the coordinator, will decide. Midnight’s ruling?

She likes it. The two are allowed to withdraw. Aoyama puts a hand on Ojiro’s shoulder and promises to win it for him. 

Midnight tells the kids that replacing the two will be members of team Kendo, who took fifth. Kendo replies that if it’s gonna be like that, then shouldn’t it be team Tetsu instead? Her team was immobilized pretty much the whole time, while team Tetsu were giving it their all to keep what they had until the very end. She then hastens to assure that they aren’t colluding or anything, it just feels right.

Tetsutetsu is in tears by the gesture. After a brief transition, it’s decided that Tetsutetsu and Shiozaki will join the finalists, bringing the number back up to sixteen. And with that, the match-ups can be drawn!

Izuku notes that if he wins his first match, his second’s gonna be against Shouto. Which I feel is very rude of him to just entirely discount the possibility of Sero winning the match. I mean, it’s an honest assessment, but STILL. Rude. Anyways, before his match with Shouto, he still has to face off against Shinsou, who has to be-

And speak of the devil, there’s the guy in question. He wants to know if he’s Midoriya Izuku, which startles Izuku. Izuku recognizes him from the declaration of war two weeks back. He goes to respond, only to be cut off by Ojiro’s tail over his mouth. Shinsou huffs and turns t head away, while Ojiro warns Izuku not to answer him. 

We get a few other reactions from some of the other students: Shouto contemplates how his match with Izuku will be sooner than expected, and that he wants Izuku to bring his best before he takes him down. Katsuki wonders out loud who Uraraka is, which startles an eep out of her, possibly for using her actual name. Mei approaches Tenya, chucking as she starts to ask him something. And Present Mic announces that they’re setting aside the tournament for the time being, and getting on with the thrill-a-minute festivities. 

There’s a few snapshots of what everyone is up to over the course of the side events: some of the non-finalists racing massive balls (probably rubber?) around the inside perimeter of the stadium, Ojiro talking to a stressed out Izuku, Tokoyami napping in a tree, Tenya drinking five (5) cans of orange juice, Katsuki doing… something, Shouto crouched down resting somewhere outside the stadium, and finally some students searching for items on the cards they were given. Oh, right, and the girls are doing cheerleader stuff, with Hagakure being the most enthusiastic, and Jirou and Momo as the least. 

Honestly, with that jump, Hagakure is either buff as heck, or Ochako is lending her a hand. 

While all this is happening, Izuku is narrating how some people preferred to psych themselves up, while others tried to relax. Everyone was dealing with it differently. And before they knew it, the time had come.

We come back into the narrative as Cementoss is just finishing up crafting the battle platform from scratch, which is honestly incredibly impressive. I guess his manipulation of cement includes being able to dry it out super fast. And really, with how it looks, he’s just showing off. Especially with those torches, like, those can’t have been made from cement. Were they just put there and the cement set around them? Did he use the cement to manipulate them into place? I have questions, sir.

As I said, showing off just a touch. 

Present Mic thanks Cementoss before asking the crowds if they’re ready. He talks about how the students have been through hell to get here, but now it’s time for the one-on-one tournament! They’ll only have themselves to rely on. Even if someone isn’t a hero, that saying holds true! You know it! Spirit, technique, strength, wisdom, and knowledge! Use them all and show us your best!

...They’ll only have themselves to rely on, even applied to non-heroes? Uh, wow. Talk about the underlying 𝓲𝓼𝓼𝓾𝓮𝓼 showing up here. I honestly can’t help but think that Izuku’s issues with heading off alone in the current manga arc has less to do with emulating All Might, and more absorbing all these small asides and comments from all the staff of UA. Which is fucking 𝕪𝕚𝕜𝕖𝕤.

Anyways, while Mic’s doing his thing, Izuku is trying to calm himself before his match, only for Toshinori to come up to talk to him. He notes how it took a while, but Izuku’s finally getting the hang of using One For All, and gives Izuku a wonky thumbs up. Izuku is surprised to see his mentor there, but also corrects him - he doesn’t really have a hang of it, he’s still uneasy. He brings up his microwave visualization thing, and how he’s been trying to recall when he launched it at the villain, but it still feels dangerous. As if he could fall apart if he loses focus for a second, and, well, it’s like Toshinori saw. Given the level his body is at, even when Izuku controls it, it only gives a small boost in power. 

Toshinoir thinks on it for a bit, before reminding Izuku about that talk about giving it between zero and a hundred. As Izuku is now, heis body’s capable of about five percent. Izuku considers that, thinking that if it’s like that, then he’s just gotten lucky with everything. Toshinori gives him a few thwacks on the head and neck, telling Izuku that that’s because he’s always been trying his hardest, calling him a prince of nonsense. He also chides Izuku, saying he’ll never be a hero looking so mopey.

While Izuku recovers from the assault, Toshinori tells him to listen, before stating that especially when Izuku is feeling worried or scared, that’s when he needs to smile. Izuku’s come this far, so show some bravado, even if it’s fake. To punctuate this, Toshinori swells up into All Might, giving him another thumbs up. And I guess it kind of works as motivation, since Izuku seems less stressed?

Anywho, we finally get into the first match! Present Mic announces the two, with Izuku getting a comment about his making a weird face despite his good performance, and Shinsou getting a comment about not having done anything to stand out yet. The rules are simple - win by knocking out your opponent, immobilizing them, or getting them to say ‘I give up!’ Bring the pain! Recovery Girl’s on standby. And fight dirty if you must! ‘Ethics’ have no meaning here!

...this explains why Shinsou immediately went for such a low blow. 

Anywho, Cementoss makes himself a seat to watch from, so as to be prepared to stop the match at any time. Present Mic clarifies that going for the kill is a big no-no and will disqualify you, because a true hero’s fists fly only when in pursuit of villains. 

Shinsou starts talking, contemplating the ‘I give up’ option before asking Izuku if he gets it? That this battle’s going to test his strength of will. If you have any kind of vision for your future, there’s no sense in worrying about how you get there. Like that monkey, babbling about his stupid pride. 

Wow is Izuku pissed. Present Mic announces the start of the match as Shinsou rhetorically asks what kind of dumbass throws away a chance like this. Izuku rushes forward furiously demanding to know what Shinsou just said - only to stop dead. Shinsou calls it his win, while in the stands, Ojiro is stressing out, tail flailing as he snaps at how he’d warned Izuku about this. Toshinori is waiting at the entrance to the stadium, confused. 

Present Mic asks what’s wrong, the battle’s just started, show some spirit! Mere seconds into the match, Izuku is frozen in place?

And we end the chapter on that cliffhanger. What an introduction to Shinsou, and we have more to go in the next… one or two chapters, can’t recall. 

Anywho, see y’all next time for spooky quirk shenanigans! Can’t believe our first ghost sighting is about to happen. Fricken love ghosts.

[themoonandotherslikeit]

Painted - Chapter Two

“Every portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not of the sitter.” - Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

Y/N has moved on, her scars are barely noticeable anymore, and she’s finally stable. Or at least she was. 10 years after the worst day of her life, Y/N found herself staring face to face with an unimaginable horror. In the wake of her worst nightmare come to life, she finds herself reunited with the man that saved her all those years ago - Agent Dean Winchester who had left her a decade before broken and wanting. Dean Winchester has spent the last 10 years trying desperately to forget Y/N and the tragedy that he pulled her out of, but when she called asking for his help he dropped everything to come to her aid as he knew he always would. Can Y/N and Dean solve the mystery that has resurfaced after all this time? Will they be able to resist the pull between them? Or will this be the final brush strokes on a canvas, sealing their fate for good?

No Beta currently, all mistakes are my own! Pairing: Dean/Reader Tags: Dark!Fic, Agent!Dean, Serial Killer Fic, Smut etc.

Chapter Two

He’s back.

It took Dean Winchester no time to drop everything he was doing and go to her. His coffee was left to cool at his desk, his computer booted up, and his case file open wide for the world to see. As he sped down the streets of downtown Boston, he clicked on the siren on his dash.

“Is he in the house? Are you in danger?”

“No. I’m safe.”

He gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white. It had been ten goddamned years, but when he heard her voice he was shot back in time. He’d thought about disconnecting the number dozens of times. He hadn’t been a field agent in a long time, after all. Eight years away from the city, and only one back at the Bureau. He was getting his toes wet - not sure who he wanted to be.

But if Y/N called, he knew where he would be.

Making it to her house in record time, he drove through the already-open gate. She had followed his instructions and called in the break in. Local PD was already on the premises and seeing the squad cars let him breathe easier.

“I’m safe.”

It was why he had chosen the job, after all. To keep people safe. It was also the reason he left. He got out of the car, remembering to take his keys with him as an afterthought and pushed through the open door.

He stopped mid stride when he saw her. It had been a long time, a decade, a lifetime. She wore jeans and an oversized flannel, her Pitbull rested protectively at her feet. Her hair laid wet and tangled, pushed behind her ears as she nodded, talking to an uniformed officer.

She looked up, her eyes meeting his in a moment that completely slowed time. “Dean,” she exhaled his name like a sigh of relief.

“Hi Sweetheart.”

The officer turned to look at him, surprised. “The FBI? Agent Winchester, I didn’t realize you’d be here…”

“Have you taken her statement?” The officer nodded to him, his eyes still wide in shock. “Then I’ll take it from here.”

The Officer stepped out of the way, making room for Dean to go to her. Y/N stood as he approached, her hands flexing at her side like she was actively trying not to reach for him. “You came.”

“I told you I would,” he said quietly.

“I can’t believe this is happening.” Her voice broke, her eyes filling with tears.

“Hey, I’ve got you. You’re safe.” He reached for her, capturing her by the waist before she collapsed. He held her steady, lowering her back onto the stool.

“Sorry,” she said breathlessly, holding her head. “Haven’t eaten today.”

Dean crouched slightly to meet her eyes, his hands on either side of her. “Show it to me, then I’ll take you to get something to eat.” He reached up to push a lock of damp hair behind her ear.

“I can’t leave Castiel here.”

“We will take him with us,” he promised, offering a supportive grin. “We will eat on the patio.”

“Okay.”

She took his extended arm and allowed him to support her weight as they walked down the hallway. He didn’t need her to show him where the painting was, he just followed the sounds of crime scene techs talking, photographs being snapped.

“Did you notice anything else out of place?”

“Just the painting.”

One of the officer’s was calling to the prison. It was impossible that he could’ve gotten out, but it didn’t mean that he didn’t have resources to plant the painting. If Dean was sure of anything, he was sure of that.

He felt Y/N tug at his arm at the entrance to the hallway, halting mid-step. He glanced at her. Her pupils were wide and her lips were parted, ragged breaths escaping. “I’ve got it from here,” he told her, his hand lingering on her arm for a beat before releasing her and leaving her standing next to her dog.

Dean made his way down the hallway, officers making room for him like he was Moses splitting the Red Sea. He walked until he saw it, the painting. He settled on her eyes in the painting, delicate, detailed, but expressionless. They were missing the light that made Y/N Y/N, but it captured her likeness well enough.

He’d seen them before, of course. The paintings were famous. He thought back to the twenty-three year old girl who blushed in embarrassment the first time she saw them hanging on a wall. Dean didn’t look at them for her body, he knew it didn’t belong to her. He looked at the painting with the eyes of a detective. It was a piece of the bigger puzzle, just another clue. He leaned in closer to the painting and took a large inhale through his nose. He closed his eyes, trying to hold back any kind of reaction. He knew she was still watching him. They all were.

“Tape off the house,” he instructed, looking back to the techs and officers. I want this entire place looked over. Leave no stone unturned. I mean it. I trust you’ll secure the space, and then leave it to us. My team will be taking over from here out. Johnson,” he said, turning to an officer that he recognized. “Call the FBI field office and let them know the details and that I said I'm taking the case.” His gaze turned from the officers to Y/N. “Let’s get you some clothes. I don’t think you’ll be sleeping here tonight.”

“You read my mind.”

****

They sat at a table on the patio of a coffee shop, Castiel sleeping at Y/N’s feet. She watched Dean blow on his coffee. He looked good if she was paying attention. His strong jaw was speckled with light hairs, his full lips were pursed, blowing on his coffee to cool it enough to drink. He held the mug in large calloused hands. His moss green eyes flickered to her, catching her staring, and she suddenly felt unbelievably vulnerable.

“So, you’re a PI, huh?” He asked, his voice rougher than she remembered it to be.

Y/N shook her head. “Not frequently.”

“Why not?”

She held her own mug between her hands, tapping the lip with her index finger. “There weren’t enough wins. I couldn’t save…” Her voice trailed off and she sighed. “Well, you know what it’s like. So I opened a self defense gym. Preventative measures instead of cleaning up the messes after the fact. I’ll take special cases, and I consult every now and then. They say I have a special eye for it.”

“I suspect you do.”

“What about you, Dean?” She looked back to him, through the steam on her cup. It was the transitional time in Massachusetts when the summer shifted to autumn, and the chill nipped at her ears. “Where have you been the last ten years?” She wasn’t meaning to sound so accusatory, but that’s how it came out - pointed and full of resentment.

Silence settled between them, heavy and pressured. He cleared his throat and placed his mug down. “After everything that happened I was approached to be a part of a tactical team with the military. I didn’t feel I could decline.” Her eyebrow shot up in surprise. “I joined the Marines. I’d always thought about it after high school, it’s what my father did… and after everything that happened... I needed a change.” She watched his fast twist in itself, his lips curl and his eyes drop back to his coffee. He felt guilty for being messed up. She wanted to reach out to him and take his hand in hers to comfort him for that.

“You still answered my call… on the line that you gave me that long ago. Your work line.”

“I never got rid of it.” His eyes flickered up as he gazed at her through long dark eyelashes.

“Why?”

He chuckled low and shook his head. “It sounds insane.”

“I’ve lived insane. Try me.”

“I worried that this would happen… that someday you’d call. Every time I went to cancel it, every year that went by, I just sat in my car in the parking lot and never went in to do it. Couldn’t risk it.”

“This was your case… the one that changed you.”

He grunted, leaning back in his chair. “You sound like you’re saying from experience.”

“Well, it changed me too,” she said with a mischievous grin. His thick eyebrows shot up in surprise. She unsettled people frequently, especially when they knew her past.

“Of course.”

“Are you still in the marines?”

“Once you become one, you’re always a jarhead.” He grinned at her, a dimple pressing into his cheek. “But no, I’ve been out for two years. I got pulled back into the Bureau. They wanted me, begged me to do it.” He sighed.

“You don’t want it?”

Dean’s eyes locked with hers. “It’s been a lot of paper work. Never much wanted a desk job.”

“You’re not at a desk now, agent,” she challenged.

He grinned at her. “When a beautiful woman calls me I’m duty bound to come to her.”

She smiled and peeled her eyes from his. The banter was flirty, light, but it was a Band-Aid taped over a wound that was too close to bursting. “I’m glad you answered,” Y/N said quietly, Castiel nudging her leg with his nose. “It was instinct to call you the second I saw the painting.”

A jolt ran through her as he took her hand in his. He squeezed it gently, cradling it with care. “Y/N…”

She pulled her hand out of his and wrapped it around her mug instead, sipping her coffee. “I can’t.”

“Of course.” He nodded with an understanding that felt unfair, unwarranted.

“Do you think it’s him?” She asked, almost blurting out the question that was sitting on her tongue from the moment she saw Dean again.

Dean sighed heavily and clasped his hands together. “I don’t see how it can be. He’s been in jail for a decade, Y/N.”

“Are you sure?” Her eyes stung as fear pressed insistently against her chest preventing her from taking a full, deep breath. She didn’t think it was possible to live this way anymore, she didn’t think she had to. It was like for the first time she’d thought she could breathe easily again, just to get the breath knocked out of her in one swift kick to her stomach.

“As sure as I can be, but not sure enough to not check into it. Never sure enough to not check into it.” He leaned forward, his green eyes intense. “I’ll figure this out. I can promise you that.”

“I don’t know who else would do this.”

“Has he contacted you?”

“Not in years. He gave up eventually when I wouldn’t take his calls or write him back.”

“He wrote to you?”

“Every day for the first year. He’d send me drawings…” She tightened her grip on her mug, her knuckles whitening as a chill seemed to crawl up her spine. “I stopped opening them after the first week.”

“Do you still have them?” Dean asked slowly, carefully.

Y/N was familiar with people walking on eggshells around her. It was no real surprise that Dean would do the same. He was cautious, calculated, a professional. She wetted her bottom lip with her tongue, a nervous habit to keep her from picking at the dry skin. He made her nervous. The situation made her skin itch beneath her clothes, heat rising up the back of her neck. “Yes. They’re locked in a drawer. I’ve thought about burning them a thousand times but I just…”

“Can’t bring yourself to?”

She nodded. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m punishing myself for not realizing. Or maybe it’s a reminder to never let it happen again.”

“I’d like to see them.”

She sat up a little straighter in her seat, her jaw tightening in an expression that she was sure resembled a grimace. “They’re personal.”

“I suspect they are.”

“What do you think you’ll learn from them?”

“I don’t know, which is why I need to examine them. I need you to trust me…”

“I trust you, Dean. I think you should know that by now.”

10 years ago

“It’s inappropriate, Agent Winchester! I gave you orders to wait. She needed to be evaluated, but you went in anyway and now… ” Captain McLeod was pissed, to put it mildly. Her nostrils flared and her eyebrows furrowed as she looked up at him. For such a small woman she was terrifying, and in any other circumstance he would’ve rolled over and played dead like she obviously wanted him to. But this wasn’t any circumstance.

“She's imprinted. I know that’s what the psychologist said. She trusts me. Only me.”

“You can't be her connection, Dean.”

“I have to be. We can’t take another thing from her. I can’t abandon her after everything she’s been through.”

“You aren’t trained in psychology,” she hissed.

“I’m taking pointers from the hospital psychologist. I‘ll take her lead. I’ll tread lightly. Come on, Rowena. This is the right thing and you know it.”

“She’s having a mental break,” his captain said, her voice low. She grasped his shoulder. “I don’t want you to get too attached to someone so unstable.”

He nodded, trying to keep his expression neutral, because if he was honest with himself he would have to admit that he was already attached. How could he not be? “I’ve got this. You can go, I’ll report on what I find.”

She looked at Dean suspiciously, but finally nodded with a sigh. She had no choice but to trust him, and that fact was to his advantage. He watched her leave, before quickly entering Y/N’s hospital room again.

The hospital room was bright, the blinds raised and the light bleeding in. She looked absolutely exhausted, deep purple half moons rested under her eyes. Her hair was freshly brushed, pushed behind her ears, and down. The monitors beep steadily, showing her heartbeat, blood pressure and a dozen other numbers that he couldn’t begin to decipher. The top of the bed was raised allowing her to sit up a bit, and her bandaged arms rested on her lap.

“Dean,” Y/N said breathlessly as her tired green eyes caught his. He could tell even from where he stood in the doorway that her eyes were more grey than green from her exhaustion.

“Hey, Sweetheart.”

“I thought you left.”

“I told you I wouldn’t.”

Her eyes flickered down to her hands where she picked at her nails. “I know you did.”

“I won’t leave you. You can trust me,” he promised, walking to her. He sat in the chair next to her and pulled it close to her bed. She looked so small and fragile in that bed. Seeing photographs of her before the incident was jarring, she looked like a completely different person.

“Okay,” Y/N said, her voice weak. She nodded and sucked in her breath.

“You can talk to me if you need to.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. Don’t feel pressured to talk.”

“You’re sending mixed signals, Agent.” She smiled then, it was weak but the spark in her eye wasn’t something he could ignore.

“Yeah, most of my dates say that.”

“Is this a date?” Her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“What? No - of course not. I…”

It sounded better than he could’ve ever imagined, and fuck, he hadn’t expected it to come as soon as it did. She was laughing. “Relax, Agent.” She exhaled, trying to catch her breath. “I was kidding.”

“Sure, of course you were.” His back relaxed again. He felt tightly wound, stressed. He hadn’t been able to truly relax over the last twenty-four hours. Pressure was higher than ever and things hadn’t gotten much better. No one was convinced it was over, himself included. He would have to get some information out of Y/N eventually, but he wanted to tread lightly after all she had been through. Kindness was the least that she deserved.

“It’s over, Dean.” She looked like she was reassuring him. “Right?” Her eyes met him with fear and intensity behind the brave face she was putting up.

“I don’t want to upset you,” he said carefully.

“I’m already upset. Just spit it out already. You look like you’ve sat on a thumbtack.”

Dean wanted to laugh at her image of him, but there wasn’t much to laugh about. He hated this part of his job. Y/N had been smiling a moment before, she felt safe and that wasn’t something that should be squandered or minimalized. It was a big thing. After he told her what he had to say, she wouldn’t feel safe. Not really. “We think there may be more.” ------ Chapter Three Read on A03 Here Tag List:

@lyarr24

@dean-winchesters-bacon

@waywardbaby

@akshi8278

@sexyvixen7

@deanwanddamons

@siospins

@beanie-beebo

[lyranova]

Well, her request is somewhat... unorthodox. Basically, one where Natsu’s a closeted trans-woman, who Lucy decides to help live as a woman. She takes Natsu out to get a make over, and buy some new clothes.

Of course! I’m sorry this took so long and I hope you like it, I apologize if it isn’t accurate or if your friend doesn’t like it. If i need to i can edit or change or delete this if your friend finds it inaccurate or anything ok? Also thank you and your friend so much for answering my questions ☺️! But I hope everyone enjoys! (Also pronouns change in this fic from ‘he/him’ to ‘she/her’ in case you guys get confused!)

Word Count: 1,827

Warnings: None

———-

Lucy was very happy today, she had just finished a mission all by herself and had earned enough money not only for her rent, but also for shopping! She hurried to Natsu’s home, she couldn’t wait to tell him the news and she would maybe treat him to some dinner if she had extra money left over. She couldn’t stop the warm smile from gracing her features as she came upon his small cottage, even though she had been here many times before it still always managed to bring a smile to her face. As Lucy came upon his door she just pushed it open, not bothering to knock, she assumed Natsu wouldn’t mind.

“ Hey Natsu guess what?!” She shouted as she entered his home, he wasn’t in the living room like usual, so she went towards his bedroom since that was the only other place he could be. She walked towards his bedroom and, without thinking, she pushed his door open.

“ No wait Lucy-!” She heard Natsu shout but it was too late, she froze in his bedroom doorway, unsure of what to say.

Natsu was dressed in a loose knee length dress, a pair of black sandals. His hair was long and wavy, almost like what Lucy would assume a princesses hair to look like. She saw Natsu’s eyes widen, in both shock and fear.

“ N-Natsu…” That was all Lucy could say at the moment, she was trying to wrap her head around what she was seeing. She was in shock. Natsu turned red and quickly faced away from her.

“ You weren’t supposed to see me like this, not yet anyway.” She muttered softly, her eyes staying on the floor. Natsu hadn’t come out to anyone yet about being transgender, the only one that knew so far was Happy, and he hadn’t told anyone. Natsu couldn’t look Lucy in the eye, she didn’t want to see the disgust that Natsu assumed would be on Lucy’s face.

“ Natsu...what’s going on?” Lucy asked softly as she stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. Natsu sighed before walking over to her bed and sitting down. She kept her eyes on the floor even as Lucy walked over.

“ I...I’m transgender Lucy, I have been for a while.” She spoke softly, Lucy had never heard her like this before. Lucy crouched down in front of Natsu.

“ Why didn’t you say anything?” She asked, she thought she was Natsu’s best friend, that she would tell her anything. Lucy was admittedly hurt that Natsu felt like she couldn’t trust her with this. Natsu began to pick at a loose thread on her dress.

“ I was scared, I was scared you would judge me, you would hate me even. I just...I just didn’t know how to tell you Lucy. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you.” Natsu told her softly. They sat there in silence, both trying to take in the information, it was mostly Lucy trying to process all of the information.

“ So, you were born in the wrong body?” Lucy asked, hoping not to offend her, she knew what transgender was but didn’t have much information on it.

“ Yeah, I always felt like there was something about me that wasn’t..right. Like, I never felt comfortable in my own skin, whenever you guys call me ‘he’ or ‘him’ it never really felt right it always felt like you were talking to someone else. I had never even considered that I was maybe not who I was supposed to be, until I decided to write a journal, like you do. Then it all made sense; all the things I was feeling, all the reasons why I was never fully happy with myself, it was because I wasn’t born in the right body.” She explained softly, still not looking at Lucy.

Lucy patiently listened, and she couldn’t help but wonder why she never noticed how unhappy she was. Natsu always had a bright, cheerful smile on her face, she always encouraged everyone and tried to make them feel special. But Lucy never did that for her in return, and she was so angry at herself, how could she call herself Natsu’s best friend if she didn’t notice how she felt? Lucy moved closer to Natsu and, to Natsu’s surprise, she pulled her into her arms and held her close.

“ It’s ok Natsu, I would never hate you! I care about you so much and all I want is for you to be happy, and if transitioning is what makes you happy and makes you love yourself, then I support you 100%!” Lucy told her as she held Natsu close, Natsu looked up at her with wide, hopeful eyes.

“ Really? Y-You don’t find this-?” Lucy shook her head and quickly cut her off.

“ Not at all. It was a little shocking at first, but the more I looked at you and seen how happy you are, the more I realized you’re actually being you instead of pretending to be something you’re not.” Lucy placed a small kiss on Natsu’s cheek, causing her to blush, before she wrapped her arms around Lucy and hugged her back.

“ Now,” Lucy started after they sat like that for a moment, just holding each other. “ let’s fix your hair and clothes.” She added as she pulled away, Natsu’s dress was a little ill fitting, his shoes too small, and his wig wasn’t put on properly.

“ Fix my-?” Lucy suddenly pulled her up and walked her over to the mirror in Natsu’s bedroom, she placed her in front of it before looking around.

“ Do you have any other dresses here?” Lucy asked before walking over to her closet to see if she had something that would fit a little better before seeing Natsu shake her head.

“ No, this is all I have.” Natsu told her softly, she whipped around to face the blushing dragon slayer, that was all she had? One dress, one wig, and one pair of shoes?! Nuh-uh, that wasn’t going to fly with Lucy.

“ Alright new plan! We’re going shopping!” Lucy declared with a firm nod before walking back over to Natsu and trying to fix her dress and wig.

“ S-Shopping? But Lucy I don’t think-.” Natsu started to argue but she watched the blonde shake her head in the mirror.

“ Yes you can! If anyone tries to say anything about you, or tries to call you names or anything like that then don't worry! Cause I’ll be there to kick their butts, even though I know you’ll be able to handle them yourself.” Lucy said with a soft smile, she watched as the pink haired woman smiled back. Between the two of them, no one would ever get away with making rude comments about Natsu.

“ Now, we’re going to buy a better fitting dress and some new shoes. Even replace this wig.” Lucy said and she watched Natsu shake her head quickly.

“ No. we’re not replacing the wig.” Natsu said defensively, causing Lucy to frown.

“ Why not? It’s kinda old and you could use a new one-.” Lucy started but was cut off.

“ I said no and that’s final! We can buy another wig or two for me to have but we are not replacing this one!” Natsu told her in a slightly raised voice, Lucy blinked before she realized why she was so protective of the wig.

It was special, it helped her become her true self, it helped her realize just how beautiful she was, the wig was a key part to all of this. Lucy nodded before standing on her toes and fixing the wig properly.

“ Ok. We won’t replace it. C’mon let’s go!” Lucy shouted, grabbing Natsu’s hand after fixing her wig, and dragging her outside so they could go shopping.

They were out for hours, they had gone to three different stores and bought a lot of new clothes and shoes and wigs for Natsu to have. Lucy even bought her some make up in case she wanted it. She was going to use most of the money she had gotten from that job on clothes for her, but Natsu needed them more, and honestly, she was having too much fun giving her a makeover!

“ Ok, so after we go to this shoe store we’re going to stop for some lunch-.” Natsu didn’t hear the rest of what Lucy was saying, this entire time she had thought Lucy would hate her, be disgusted with her, and never even speak to her again. But she didn’t. Instead, she took her shopping, fixed her clothes, accepted her, and loved her unconditionally. Natsu wondered if the others would be as accepting as Lucy, if they would all still love her unconditionally. She knew a lot of them would have a hard time adjusting to the news, but if Lucy was there, then she would be ok.

“ Also, have you chosen a new name yet? I was thinking about maybe going by the bookstore and finding a book full of names, hey, are you ok?” Lucy asked in concern as Natsu just stared at her. Lucy gasped in surprise as she was suddenly wrapped up in a hug and she could feel tears hit her bare shoulders.

“ Thank you, thank you for accepting me. For loving me. For making me feel like I can tell everyone and anyone, for helping me become who I really am. You’re my very best friend and I love you so much.” Natsu cried before placing a gentle kiss on Lucy’s cheek, causing her to blush. But she wrapped her arms around her and hugged her tightly.

“ I love you too, no matter what. I’ll always be your best friend and I’m always here for you. I can’t promise there won’t be days where I won’t slip up and accidentally call you the wrong pronoun, or the wrong name, and I apologize in advance for that. Just be patient with me, because I will learn.” Lucy spoke softly as her chin rested on Natsu’s shoulder. She could feel her nod.

“ I will. I promise. Oh, and as far as a name, I kinda already picked one.” Natsu said with a small laugh as they pulled away.

“ What is it?” Lucy asked curiously, she saw Natsu’s smile become the brightest it had been since she walked in on him.

“ Tana. My name’s Tana.” Natsu, now Tana, announced. Lucy played the name over and over in her head, and even said it a couple of times to see how it sounded, before she nodded and a bright smile was also on her face. Tana’s smile was always contagious, that was one of the many things she loved about her.

“ It’s nice to finally meet you, Tana.”

——

I hope you guys enjoyed this and i’m sorry if it isn’t very good! But thanks for reading and I hope you have a good day~!

[honeypwark]

[ Pretty Girl ]

  ↳ Run Away era

       ↳ Kiryoung goes rock climbing... for some reason. She meets a new face. They get lunch.

m.list

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Kiryoung has no idea what she’s doing here. That’s not entirely true, though. It started with Yeonjun teasing her, as per usual. This time, it was about her height (a rather unoriginal and overused topic of teasing amongst her members). More specifically, he was teasing her about how her height correlated with her strength and how she was “super weak and wimpy” compared to him and the other members.

She, of course, defended herself by saying there’s no feasible way she wouldn’t be the weakest member as all of the boys have at least eight inches on her. Her mistake came when she tried to claim she was fairly strong for her size. For context: she is not fairly strong for her size. She’s actually probably fairly weak for her size seeing as all her workouts consist of cardio and weight loss and not muscle gain. So unless you’re talking about heart health, Kiryoung is rather unfortunately weak.

This all leads her to where she is now, sitting on a bench after signing in for a session at a rock climbing gym. The connection between Yeonjun’s teasing, her attempt to defend herself, and sitting in a rock climbing gym? Yeonjun bet her that she couldn’t rock climb because she’s too weak (which she is) and she agreed to go rock climbing to prove him wrong (which she won’t be able to).

Basically, Kiryoung is definitely stressing out while sitting on this bench, not sure at all where she’s even supposed to start. She doubts she’ll even be able to do any of the courses or routes or whatever they’re called.

Someone sits down beside her as she’s worrying in her head, “This might be weird, but you look extremely familiar.”

Kiryoung looks to her left and sees a very pretty girl looking at her intently as if trying to piece together who she is. Kiryoung goes a little red in the face and shies away from the girl.

“You must have me mistaken for someone else,” Kiryoung says.

“No, I swear I’ve seen you before.”

The pretty girl doesn’t stop looking at her, beautiful round eyes continuing to search Kiryoung’s face even as she shrinks away from her. The girl gasps as realization crosses her features.

“Oh my god!” she exclaims. “You’re Kiryoung! From Tomorrow By Together! Oh my god, I loved your guys’ comeback.”

So that’s why this girl recognized Kiryoung.

“Thank you,” Kiryoung says, trying to make herself sound more confident as she seems to be interacting with a fan.

“Oh, I should introduce myself,” the girls says, “I’m Jeon Somi.”

Confidence levels are dropping dangerously low. This is not her fan, this is the nation’s girl group’s center, the first place winner of the first Produce series. How is she supposed to maintain any amount of confidence in her presence? Kiryoung really has no idea how she didn’t recognize the Jeon Somi but figures it must have something to do with being flustered by her sudden appearance and intense staring.

“Y-You’re Somi?”

“Mhm,” Somi hums her affirmation. “And you are Kiryoung, right? I just want to make sure...”

“Yes.”

“Okay, good. Imagine if you weren’t and I just accused some random person of being in an idol group. That would have been embarrassing.”

Somi has avoided her embarrassment, but Kiryoung can tell that hers has just started. She’s finding it extremely difficult to speak to the other girl, let alone look her in the eye. Curse you, social anxiety.

“Do you like rock climbing, too?” Somi asks.

“No.”

“Oh...”

“I-I mean I’ve never done it before. This is my first time.”

“Oh!” Somi looks much more pleased with that answer. “Do you want to do it with me? I can show you the ropes.”

Kiryoung looks around, confused, “What ropes? Do they have rope courses here, too?”

Somi bursts into laughter, “Oh my god, you’re hilarious.”

Kiryoung laughs with her nervously, realizing her mistake of taking an idiom too literally and hoping to play it off. Somi doesn’t seem to notice that she was being serious. If she does, she chooses not to say anything.

“Okay, okay,” Somi says, calming herself down. “Do you want me to show you how the gym works? I’ve been coming her for a while.”

“Um...”

Kiryoung weighs her options. On one hand, if she says no, she might come off as mean or rude and give a bad first impression to her senior artist. On the other hand, if she says yes, she’ll have to live through many more embarrassing and awkward moments and learn that she really isn’t physically cut out for rock climbing with an audience. Neither are very good options.

“Sure,” Kiryoung answers quietly, too scared to be rude right now in order to avoid embarrassment in the near future.

The very near future because, with Somi’s instruction, Kiryoung makes it about four handholds before she falls off the wall and lands flat on her back, unable to catch or right herself.

Somi jumps off the wall after her, “Woah, are you okay?”

Kiryoung sits up, “I don’t think I’m cut out for rock climbing.”

“You only just started,” Somi laughs. “Come on.”

Somi extends her hands to Kiryoung, offering her help to get up. Kiryoung hesitates for a second before accepting it, letting the taller girl pull her to her feet.

“Let’s try the easiest course,” Somi says, “I probably should have asked you what your skill level is before we started.”

Kiryoung switches her hand and footholds a few more times than during her first attempt before the shaking in her arms becomes too much and she has to let go. She’s higher up that she realized, landing on her feet but falling back onto her butt. She looks down and sighs.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Somi asks.

Kiryoung looks up and finds Somi crouching down beside her. She looks away shyly.

“I’m not very good at this,” Kiryoung says.

“Well, no one really is their first time unless they’re already muscly and stuff.”

Kiryoung sighs, “I don’t even know why I’m here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I only came because I’m trying to prove to my members that I’m not weak. Even though I am. I’ve got noodle arms.”

Kiryoung wiggles her arms out in front of her to prove her point. Somi laughs and this time, Kiryoung can laugh easily with her. Somi falls back onto her bottom, sitting beside Kiryoung.

“So you’re trying to prove to your members that you’re not weak but none of them are even here to see if you succeed or fail?” Somi asks.

Kiryoung is silent for a long moment, the sounds of the gym filling the brief pause in the two girls’ conversation.

Kiryoung groans, “I’m so gullible.”

Somi bursts out into laughter again, falling to her side.

“Oh my god, I’m so stupid!” Kiryoung says. “I could have gone to a park and caught frogs instead of wasting my time with rock climbing!”

Somi just laughs harder. Kiryoung’s irritation at herself fades and she ends up laughing with Somi. Finally, it seems Kiryoung isn’t so nervous around the younger girl. Eventually, they collect themselves and stand.

“Well, we can keep trying if you really want to but my session time runs out in ten minutes anyway,” Somi says after checking the time, “So do you want to get lunch together?”

“Lunch? Together?”

“Yeah. We could talk more and get to know each other.”

“Um, yeah, okay. Let’s do that.”

After trading out her climbing shoes for her normal ones, Kiryoung waits for Somi at the front of the gym. It’s started raining harder since they started climbing but Kiryoung brought an umbrella, knowing the forecast for the day. She pulls her phone out and starts searching up nearby restaurants, not wanting to walk too far in the rain. Somi, back from the bathroom, stops beside Kiryoung.

“I’m kind of in the mood for ramen; are there any places nearby?” Somi asks.

“Uh, let me see... Yes. There’s a ramen place about three blocks that way.”

Kiryoung quickly memorizes the directions to the restaurant and tucks her phone away. They walk out of the gym and stand under the overhang. Kiryoung notices Somi isn’t carrying an umbrella or a rain jacket.

“Do you not have an umbrella?” Kiryoung asks.

“No, my dad dropped me off and I ran inside,” Somi explains. “I figured I could just dash from awning to awning.”

“We can just share mine,” Kiryoung says, opening her kiwi-patterned umbrella.

“You don’t mind sharing?” Somi asks.

Kiryoung shakes her head with a smile, “Not at all.”

Kiryoung holds her umbrella up a bit more so the taller girl can fit under it. Kiryoung feels her face grow warm with how close she is to Somi. They start walking, bumping into one another as they try to walk under the same umbrella.

“Here, let me just...”

Somi takes the umbrella from Kiryoung and pulls Kiryoung’s hand to loop through her arm. Kiryoung’s face gets hotter.

“Better?” Somi asks.

Kiryoung just nods.

They start off again, able to walk much more comfortably side by side now. Kiryoung tugs on Somi’s arm when they’re supposed to turn, leading the two of them silently. They eventually make it to the shelter of the ramen restaurant. Somi motions for Kiryoung to enter first, no overhang or awning making the transition inside without getting wet a little difficult. Somi stands halfway inside the restaurant as she closes Kiryoung’s umbrella, shaking it out before stepping inside fully.

“At least one of us was prepared,” Somi says, handing Kiryoung her umbrella back.

“You can go sit down; I’ll grab the ingredients from the bar,” Kiryoung tells her.

“Can I trust you not to poison me?” Somi asks.

“W-Why would I poison you?” Kiryoung stutters.

Somi smiles at her, “I’m teasing.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry.”

“You really are gullible,” Somi quips.

The taller girl walks off to find a table and Kiryoung goes to the bar where she picks out a two person serving of ramen, some onions and scallions and green onions, a bit of soy sauce, and four pot stickers. She pays and is given a pot of water, finding Somi and placing it all down.

“This looks fancy,” Somi says, “I usually just get the ready-made seasonings.”

“It’s a lot better if you season it yourself,” Kiryoung tells her, setting the pot of water on the table’s stove.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Once the water has started to heat up, Kiryoung starts to add her seasonings to make the broth. She glances at Somi at one point, noticing how the younger girl is watching what she’s doing intently. She looks back at what she’s doing, making sure not to mess anything up. When the broth is boiling, she adds the noodles and not too long after, the pot stickers. Kiryoung turns the heat off once it’s finished and moves the pot off the stove onto a hot pad.

“Alright,” she says. “You try it first.”

Somi breaks her chopsticks apart and picks up a few noodles. She transfers them onto her spoon with a bit of broth and blows on it. She looks at Kiryoung.

“Here’s to no poison,” she jokes.

Kiryoung giggles.

Somi eats the noddles and broth, face lighting up as she tastes it. Kiryoung feels her heart swell a bit as Somi looks pleased with her ramen. Somi swallows her first bite.

“I think I just fell in love with you,” she says.

Kiryoung giggles shyly again and waves her off, “It’s not a big deal.”

“No, it’s seriously so good,” Somi says, already getting another bite of noodles ready, “And food is the quickest way to my heart.”

Kiryoung smiles happily at her pot of ramen, breaking apart her own chopsticks to begin eating as well. They talk casually with one another, eating and learning about one another. Every so often, Kiryoung watches Somi’s face as she eats, always equally delighted to see Somi so pleased with her cooking.

“Yeah, all my members bully me,” Kiryoung says as she concludes her explanation of her relationship with her members.

“That’s so mean,” Somi says, “You’re like the sweetest person ever.”

“You just met me today.”

“My statement still stands; I am a wonderful judge of character.”

“And my character is sweet?”

“And gullible, a great cook, blunt, a little socially awkward.”

“Oh...”

“But you’re also caring and inquisitive. You’re curious about the world.”

Kiryoung smiles a little at Somi’s observations.

“You’re also super cute.”

Kiryoung blinks at Somi. Somi looks back at her.

Kiryoung shoves some noodles into her mouth to avoid any further awkward eye contact.

[elisela]

take my whole life, too buck x eddie, 1.4k, vermont verse for @extasiswings and @tylerhunklin because that cellist fic inspired me and chapel said !!!!!!!!!!! so here’s eddie learning to play the guitar because i only know how to play the ukulele and eddie would never choose that so close enough.

Eddie’s not sure why he does it.

Well, that’s not true—they’re in Bobby’s backyard on a warm July night, the kids running around with sparklers, popping little plastic champagne bottles full of confetti over people’s heads when they’re not looking. Eddie’s standing near the grill with Michael and Bobby (he may not be able to cook but he’s from Texas, okay, he knows how to barbecue), recounting some of his funnier stories about being in the military (he can joke about it now, doesn’t feel like choking whenever he mentions it) when Buck’s bright laughter draws his gaze.

“So he starts singing this song and I swear I was so close to losing it,” Maddie says, “I had to pretend to be sick so I could run to the bathroom and laugh.”

He’s not sure what they’re talking about, but they look happy, relaxed, and then Buck says—

“I always wished someone would serenade me.”

And somehow, Eddie’s at a music store the next day in Burlington, buying a guitar.

--

Eddie’s never liked being an amateur. It’s not that he dislikes learning, or thinks he should be great at everything right away, but he feels too deeply the judging looks that people will give (whether they’re in his imagination or not is another story), so his original plan had been: buy a guitar online, hide it, practice like crazy until he could get a simple song out, sing to Buck.

He falls into a Buck-esque research spiral after they leave Bobby’s house that night, googling guitars on his phone and watching “learn to play” youtube videos until 3am, when Buck rolls over in his sleep and slides his hands over Eddie’s stomach and down lower, until Eddie drops his phone on the floor accidentally and then somehow it’s 4am and Buck is breathing hard against him and they both need a shower.

Regardless, he’d learned a few things: don’t buy a guitar online, and it’s really easy to play C and F major.

It comes in handy at the store; luckily, he’s not the only one there so he waves off the bored-looking clerk and looks over the wall of guitars, drawn to the two-tone ones; he reads the signs and tries to look like he knows what he’s doing but in the end he picks up one that proclaims it has a Sitka spruce top and mahogany back, strums the two chords he’d learned from trying to memorize a chord chart in the middle of the night, and buys it without looking at the price tag.

… he probably should have looked at the price tag.

--

Given Eddie’s abundance of free time, it’s pretty easy to hide what he’s doing, which is good, because he is objectively terrible at playing the guitar. His fingers feel clumsy; he’d never played an instrument before, favored extra history classes in high school over band, and he had thought that the easy rhythm he can find while dancing would transfer over, but strum patterns and counts get tangled up somewhere between his brain and his fingers and he ends up off-beat and confused halfway through a song. He tries doing things properly, working through a beginner’s book he bought online and hides in the bottom drawer of his desk, but just picking simple melodies and occasional chords frustrates him and he ends up shoving the guitar in the attic for two weeks before he gives in and does what he’d wanted to do all along—follow along with YouTube videos.

He spends three days looking up songs that only use a few basic chords and finally settles on a simplified version of Can’t Help Falling in Love With You, because Buck loves sappy and Eddie loves Buck, and no one needs to know how when he sings it, he thinks about the first time he saw Buck standing on the porch, crouching down to talk to Christopher, bright smile and laugh lighting up Eddie’s life.

For a simple song it takes him a frustratingly long time to learn it, but finally, he’s ready for the last part of the plan: sing it to Buck.

Oh, shit.

He has to sing it.

--

In middle school, Eddie’s choir teacher called them over to the corner of the room one at a time and had them sing a few lines so she could determine their voice classifications. Her face had been neutral while listening to him, but a few weeks later while they were singing The Lion Sleeps Tonight, she’d pulled Eddie and Robbie Martin to the side and said, “you know boys, no one will notice if you just mouth the words.”

Eddie mouthed the words.

--

So, Eddie makes a new plan. He needed one anyway, because it’s not like he could just pull Buck into the office after work and sing to him, no. Buck wants to be serenaded, and that demands certain things.

Like getting his son out of the house, for one. No offense to Christoper, but he doesn’t need his extremely sarcastic eleven year old around while he’s trying to be romantic.

That’s easy enough, though, given that Denny is at his house daily after school—a single text message to Karen and he’s got the house to himself Saturday night and most of the day Sunday.

He sucks it up and calls Sophia for advice on how to do the rest, hangs up on her after two minutes of her laughing and calls Adriana instead. He always knew she was his favorite sister (okay she wasn’t, but she certainly is now), because she squeals excitedly and he has to ask her to slow the rapid flow of words so he can actually understand her.

By the time Saturday morning rolls around, he’s ready. He spreads a picnic blanket out in the far corner of their yard, under the sugar maple trees and near the fire-pit Buck had dug out the summer before they got married, packs a picnic basket with snacks, and sends Chris over to Hen’s just after lunch. He spends the rest of the day with Buck; they drive a well-known route through the changing trees, holding hands and trading kisses across the center console whenever Eddie stops at a red light. He takes him out to his favorite farm-to-table restaurant in Waterbury, then brings him home and takes out his secret weapon: bourbon sours.

--

Buck is a happy but sloppy drunk, but Eddie’s learned over the years that there’s a point in Buck’s drinking that is optimal for him: happy and affectionate, his hands roaming all over Eddie’s body and his mouth spilling words of adoration.

That’s the place Eddie’s trying to find tonight.

It takes a few hours, time he spends making out with his husband while wrapped up in his arms, sprawled out across the blanket with their legs tangled together. Finally, after Buck spends at least five minutes talking about the perfect softness of Eddie’s bottom lip (five minutes because he’s kept interrupting himself to kiss Eddie), he excuses himself under the guise of getting water, grabs his guitar, and heads back outside.

Buck’s sitting up, leaning back to look at the stars—the view isn’t as good as it was in El Paso when he’d drive out of town and into the desert, but it’s decent enough, and it means Buck doesn’t see him coming until he sits down next to him. He’s not sure what to say so he doesn’t, just strums a few chords and when he knows he has Buck’s attention, he starts to sing.

His voice shakes, and he transitions to the wrong chord at one point and has to hope Buck doesn’t notice, but he gets through it. He stares down the whole time, both because he’s not great at finding his fingering without looking and because he’s terrified to look at Buck’s face and see a hint of judgement, or amusement, or—anything, really. So when he finished and finally looks up, he’s a little stunned to see tear tracks glinting off Buck’s cheeks in the low light of the dying fire.

“Eddie,” he whispers, “I love you so much.”

And then Buck’s moving the guitar, setting it down gently at the edge of the blanket, and pressing Eddie backwards as he straddles his hips and leans down to kiss him.

“I love you,” Buck whispers, and Eddie feels him everywhere, hands on his arms and waist, “I love you,” wet lips kissing across his jaw up to his lips, “I love you, Eddie, I love you.”

Eddie sings to him again.

[kpop-goestheweasel]

monsta x short scenario reaction to seeing their s/o being too short to reach/get something

Whoop! I’m finally back at it! Hope ya’ll staying safe and doing alright. <3Requests are open for Ateez and B.A.P. Unfortunately, I have retired other groups I have done in the past, but I will be posting requests received before yet. 

Shownu: A little teasing every now and then, but doesn’t even need to be asked to help. Will kindly get you a small ladder so you can keep your independence and help yourself when he’s not around 

“Who would do such a thing?” You grumble to yourself as you stand on the very tip of your toes and lean against the fridge as you try to reach the stupid box of sugary cereal that someone had been kind enough to PUT AT THE VERY BACK OF THE TOP OF THE FRIDGE. You managed to be able to touch the box with your fingertips, but it only teasingly wobbled from side to side as if taunting you of your struggles. “You little-”Before you managed to fully curse the jerk of a certain crunchy captain, a wild little step ladder appeared at your feet. With wide eyes, you followed the arms that had placed the helpful little contraption there and found your very handsome boyfriend smiling back at you with more amusement in that smile than you liked, but you certainly couldn’t scold him for it as he had offered something so incredibly helpful to you.“When did you get this?” you questioned, giving him an appreciative little smile.Returning to his full height from his crouched position, he continued to grin at you. “I just got back from the store now. I kind of figured with the tour coming you could use a little help with a certain disadvantage of yours that I won’t be here to offer.” 

Wonho: Giggles every time. Doesn’t help right away because it’s cute to watch you struggle

You were helping with decorating for a surprise party for another member. You weren’t sure whose bright idea it was to put you in charge of streamers, but as you stepped back from your handy work, you couldn’t help but pout at how pathetically low you had hung them on the wall regardless of how far you had stretched to get them higher. With a little sigh, you returned to trying to fix them, jumping against the wall to try and hang them higher. A deep pout immediately formed over your lips as you heard a very distinct giggle from behind you. Glancing behind yourself, you casted a heated glare at your boyfriend who then transitioned from giggling to full-on laughing at your misfortune. “Ya!” you scold him with a little huff before returning to your impossible task. Again, you jumped, trying to pin the streamers higher, but only accomplishing to hang it quite crookedly. You sighed and pouted at the poor job you’ve done before a pair of arms encircled you from behind.“You have no idea how cute you are. I can’t handle it,” Wonho lowly murmurs in your ear, earning a little smile from yourself, regardless of how mad you want to pretend to be with him. “Teamwork?” He offered, turning you slightly to look at him, a little grin still playing on his lips before he placed a quick kiss on your warm cheek and let go of you to bend down and offer his shoulders for you to hop and and gain his height with your own. 

Minhyuk: Fanboys and teases in the cutest way because he finds it utterly adorbs

Moving into a new apartment is always an experience full of excitement and stress. Currently, you’re facing the stress as you task yourself with hanging the decor in your living room. Minhyuk had been kind enough to hang the shelf above your entertainment center for you, but unfortunately, he happens to be significantly taller than yourself and you find that even on tiptoe, you cannot quite reach to safely place your decor on the shelf. Giving up, you whine and stop your feet childishly at your own shortness.That sweet boyfriend of yours just so happened to have had walked into the room just in time to see your struggle and defeat. Immediately he scurries to you with a bright smile and throws his arms around you as he coos about how cute you are as he squeezes you a bit too tight. “I have the cutest girlfriend in the world,” he cooed before lifting you off your feet and swinging you from side to side like a life-size rag doll. Unfortunately, he’s so caught up in his little fanboy moment that the decorating has been momentarily forgotten.

Kihyun: Light-hearted teasing, but will help as soon as you ask - but only when you ask

Sticking your tongue out, you practically danced on your tiptoes trying to keep your balance as you reached for the toaster on the upper store shelf. Next to you, Kihyun watched with furrowed brows and a tilted head. “What’s wrong with the dozens of toasters right in front of you?” he questioned in confusion.With a little sigh, you dropped to your flat feet and gave him a little pout. “I want it in that color,” you whined, instantly earning yourself a hearty laugh from him. “Seriously?” He continued to laugh. “So much effort for a color,” he teased, only to receive a little glare.“Red goes with the other appliances I have. Blue or that weird grey would just stick out weirdly.” You gave a little sigh knowing very well you weren’t going to get what you wanted until you asked. “Can’t you please grab it for me?”Shaking his head at your cute logic, he reached up and easily plucked the boxed appliance off the shelf and handed it to you with a little tease. “Should have eaten your Wheaties.”

Hyungwon: Pretends to be annoyed every time he needs to help you, but lowkey loves being your knight in shining armor

Hyungwon was in the other room when he heard a distinct crash of several things falling along with a little yelp from his little lover. Immediately, he dropped what he was doing to make sure a certain someone hadn’t managed to hurt themselves. As soon as his eyes landed on the sight of you on the floor surrounded by an avalanche of items from the closet, he placed his hands on his hips and gave a little sigh. “What have you done?” he scolded lightly, a little hint of amusement in his tone as he approached you.Pouting at your misfortune, you silently pointed up to the top shelf where the dang blanket remained after everything else had come crashing down around you.Shaking, his head, he gave a little chuckle under his breath and offered a hand to help you up. Once you were on your feet, he grabbed the blanket and handed it to you. “Go get the movie ready. I’ll clean this up and be right there. The popcorn should be done,” he told you, giving a little raised brow warning look before you bothered to argue. “What would I do without you?” you grinned, unfolding the blanket and wrapping it around yourself before scurrying off to the kitchen to grab the popcorn for your movie night.

Jooheon: Teases galore! You almost regret every time you have to ask for help because he definitely makes a point to tell you you’d be hopeless without him

Pintrest very well may be the death of you. All the cute aesthetic things that you can’t help but to try to recreate yourself currently had you standing on your bed as you reached up trying to hang the dang fairy lights to create the beautiful glowy ambiance you’ve seen so many times. Of course you had gotten so excited over the purchase of the perfect little lantern looking lights, that you had forgotten a particular problem: even with the height of your bed beneath you, you were still a good foot short of reaching the perfect spot to hang the dang things. Why were you cursed with such a tiny little frame? Glancing to your bedroom door, you pouted at the thought of what was to come as soon as you asked your boyfriend for help. But what other choice did you have? You needed the ambiance! “Heonnie!” You whined out, still pouting as he peeked his head around the doorframe. It only deepened all the more as you watched that stupid grin spread across his face as he observed the situation.“Awww… my itty bitty girlfriend needs the help of her big, strong man?” he instantly started with the teases. If you weren’t busy holding up the lights against the wall, you would have facepalmed. Giving a little chuckle at your scowl, he closed the distance between you. Stepping onto your bed, he took over hanging the lights for you, asking questions to make sure they were hung just right. Once the task was finally complete, the both of you stood by the door and admired the soft glow the lights cast over your room. “Looks good. What would you have ever done without me?” he grinned cheekily, pulling you into a sideways hug.

I.M.: Basically refuses to help because watching you struggle is one of his greatest points of amusement. How does this jerk remain loveable?

A small whimper left your lips as you stretched as high as you could, wiggling your fingers in hopes you could just happen to touch one of the cutest plushies you’ve ever seen and send it falling down to your own, or at least into your reach.I.M. stood behind you, pursing his lips as he watched your struggle. He was torn between being amused with your failed efforts and being salty with the idea of another stupid plushie getting to be cuddled in your arms instead of him. “You literally have dozens of plushies. You hardly need another one,” he sighed, remaining firm in not lending a hand.Turning to him, you gave him your biggest puppy-dog pout. “But that one is sooooo cute and looks sooooo cuddly,” you whined in response, hoping he would find a weakness for your little attempt at aegyo. Unfortunately, you only received a head tilt and raised brows as he silently questioned if you really thought you needed it. “You literally have a boyfriend right here that’s more than happy to cuddle,” he reminded you. Giggling slightly, you nodded and quickly closed the distance between you and him, wrapping your arms around him. “Have I been neglecting you? I’m sorry,” you cooed. “I’m just thinking about the times you’re away and I’m left with no one to cuddle but the plushies,” you added, smirking to yourself, knowing he would be weak to that. Grinning proudly to yourself, you wanted from the store hand-in-hand with your man while you carried a bag with your new present in the form of a cute, cuddly plushie, proving that two can play his game… and you’ll always win.

[anna-something]

I was wondering, if you don't mind! If you could talk a little bit about the Dreamcatcher members and what stands out to you about their personal? styles? From what I gather, it sounds like you have a background? in dance, and I'd love to hear your thoughts!

I’m presuming you mean their personal dance styles ?? if so, I’d love to! 

I’ll start off with our main dancer, queen Sua. If I had to pin point one thing about Sua that I love, it’s that she’s unafraid. You can tell when a dancer is scared to hit something *too* much - I can think of many performer’s whom I believe would be 10 times better if they stopped being scared of looking a bit wild/unrestrained. Sua has no problem with this (both on stage and off stage shdgdhsgd). Another tiny aspect I always admire, is her head, shoulder and neck isolation. It’s a pet peeve of mine when someone doesn’t pull down their shoulder blades to properly extend out their posture and neck when they dance. If you rotate your shoulder’s down and away from your ears all your extension lines look sharper and cleaner. Sua being really good at this is important to me as she’s not from a purely ballet/lyrical dance background and instead actually is a commercial and street (our girl did a B-boy comp back in the day) dancer. The training styles are massively different and you can almost always tell by the way someone holds their back but Sua is able to maintain a shoulder positioning that suits both fluid and strong styles, which is hard to do. Her footwork is also ALWAYS amazing. She’s got very quick feet, and something that I think is so utterly *her* is how she adds an extra bounce in each step. She is a wonderfully energetic dancer. I honestly could pin point so many tiny bits of Sua’s dance ability and this could go on forever and ever so I’m gonna leave it here with just one more compliment: her central core control is so good, almost completely isolated from the rest of the body, that all other body parts’ movements are hit with an extra degree of sharpness. (I’d also like to add that Sua’s leg flexibility has been improving over the years of promoting with Dreamcatcher and I’m super hyped to see it)

Now I’ll go down through age order so next up is Jiu. The word I think of first when discussing Jiu’s dance style is ‘refined’. It’s clear she’s trained really really hard and it has payed off phenomenally well. In my opinion, Jiu is one of the cleanest dancers in dreamcatcher - there’s no awkward moments in transition but also, she holds ensemble choreography together really well. There are no awkward body lines when Jiu dances, even in both their strong choreos and their more fluid ones. Jiu is a show dancer, where every move is hit to maximise the aesthetic of the line, of the position. I can’t understate how much of an impressive skill that is and how much it ties in with people describing her as ‘charismatic’. Pulling focus is her thing. Pause on every frame of Jiu dancing and she will look good, no matter what. She’s a dancer you can always trust to look right. 

Siyeon’s best known for her voice (as she should be) but it was weirdly her performance and dance ability that first made me take notice of her upon watching their debut stage (best decision I ever made to check out the new rock girl group lmfao). It’s been pretty much proven that Siyeon’s one of the physically strongest in Dreamcatcher and her dancing *looks* it. It’s almost negligible with dreamcatcher to talk too much about how sharp they are as dancer’s since.. well.. duh.. look at them.. but Siyeon’s got this ability to only a hit a move right at the last second - right at the perfect moment - as hard as she possibly can, when she dances. It’s just intensity from beginning to the end and a lot of that is to do with her physicality (that she doesn’t do any extra working out apart from training as dreamcatcher is truly the cherry on top dghdgbsd). I’ve often seen people reblog my posts of her dancing saying she looks possessed and like,,, they’re not far off. She dances like she *wants* to intimidate you. Side note but Siyeon does seem to have very impressive leg flexibility on her right leg. Combine that with her strength and it makes me think she might have done some kind of martial arts as a kid.

Handong!! Our musical theatre trained ball of talent! She’s actually the person I deem as having had the most ‘traditional’ dance training, as seen by her grand jeté (or split leap) and she’s got the best spotting (following a single point during turns). Click this link and go to 01:19:38 to see what I mean. Handong is the perfect example of how you can *tell* when someone’s had ballet/lyrical training because her back is always more straight than the others. She has by far the best technical extension and with more confidence, I think she’d be able to relax into her movement’s to just get the extra reach I know she has. Her technical (ballet) hands are also gorgeous, I’m always transfixed when she get’s to utilise them. But saying all that, I think Handong is actually at her best when she’s confident enough to showboat dance. So much of dance is believing you’re the best thing on that stage and when Handong is in that mode, you just simply can’t look away from her. Can you get that I want her to be more confident in how good of a dancer she is??? Am I making that clear enough ?? Handong,,,, if you’re out there,,,, you’re so good,, please know that. 

Yoohyeon’s the tallest member of dreamcatcher by quite a bit and being tall and being a dancer isn’t easy (I’m 5ft10, I know this first-hand) and I remember Yoohyeon introducing herself as an awkward tree (lmfao) but she actually is really good at using her body proportions. Being long-limbed means you gotta move quicker to extend properly and she manages it every time. I classify Yoohyeon as a ‘face’ dancer - her body moves it’s best when she’s expressing something, often times using her face. You can really tell that the energy she get’s from other’s is important to her when performing too. A small thing I always notice and adore about Yoohyeon’s dance is her knee is always well aligned with her thighs - a really *really* important part of turn out. It’s visually more appealing and showcases strength but it’s also really good for her health and she’s less likely to injure herself so uh… yey? dhgbsdg. 

Now onto lead dancer Dami! A lot of people don’t click that Dami legit has that title in the group because she (quite rightly) is known for her gravitas on stage when she’s rapping and performing. A huge part of that gravitas? She’s a very VERY clean and sharp dancer. Also let it be known she had a natural talent at spin pole and if anyone knows me they know I’m a pole dancer and pole enthusiast. Skills required for spin pole: incredible core control, good balance and strong arms and legs. Dami’s ticking all the boxes. Being that she has the more masculine aesthetic image in the group, I’m always utterly thrilled to see how she incorporates *who* she is in the way she dances. You can feel completely and utterly how her identity ties in on stage. She called herself the dancing prince for a reason ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Dami’s style is effortless honestly. Like she’s clearly working hard but she doesn’t ever come across she is (which is how all dancer’s want to appear). Do I even need to mention her skill with props too? The dancer’s nightmare is involving props and fucking up but our girl’s cool as a cucumber. 

Finally, we’re at Gahyeon. First things first, I gotta say, she’s a pilates baby and so in turn, she’s extra strong and extra bendy. If you’re unfamiliar with reformer machines (the first contraption) they work by using resistance spring’s on a moving platform. They’re pretty tough. Another link for bendy Gahyeon here and go to 01:18:00. I’m remembering the time she lifted Siyeon on her back from a crouch position in a pair of heeled boots. She’s small but she’s !! mighty!! Her dancing is the most improved in all of dreamcatcher from debut to now (she debuted at what? 17?) She debuted doing all the steps right and synchronised but now she has her own performance style and atmosphere. Gahyeon has said before she’d always wanted to try a ‘sexy’ image in a recent interview so I gotta plug her adult ceremony performance. To do sexy so easily on stage is really tough and I feel like this was a real turning point for her as a stage performer because she’s been so much more confident. I am so ready to see who she’ll grow into even more. Something individual I really wanna point out is her hip flexor rotation ! Of all the girl’s, she and handong had the best fan kick and it also shows in her dancing. 

This got real long but I hope you appreciated my thoughts anon !

[missingartist]

The Witcher’s Mate Chapter 6

Jaskier glared up at the man on the horse. Geralt has been his usual brooding self, riding atop of his trusty stead, the only difference since leaving Brightwater was now his had company in the saddle. Thrown across the worn brown leather, a sleeping form burrowed into the Witchers chest. The mop of curls fanned across her face hiding her, as she slept dreamlessly. Geralt had wrapped his cloak around her, as he lifted her up to sit side-saddle on his lap as he rode, protecting her against onlookers who sought to catch a glimpse of flesh. Dresses not being the most appropriate to ride in. The bard felt conflicted, Geralt was his friend, but he had just witnessed the Witcher buy a person from the inn. Not just a person a young women.

He was observing the side of her face that peeked out from her tightly wrapped form. The girl looked younger than him; her face was softly defined, innocent and pretty, more than pretty, striking, the type of girl who had suiters painting her likeness to try and win her hand or writes her poetry, now she was slung over a Witcher’s saddle, nestled against his chest.

‘You just brought a person. I can’t believe it. You brought a person.’ Jaskier finally screeched into the air. They had been travelling for more than five days, his mind preparing an elegant argument, demanding to know what was going on, but instead, a splutter of words fell from his lips. ‘you actually brought someone. You do some pretty dark shit, questionable things but you have never brought a person. Let alone a girl. What are you going to do with her? Actually don’t tell me, not actually do, no don’t. I know what happens to those poor orphan girls. I just can’t believe you would buy one…’

‘I brought her freedom, bard.’ Geralt grunted, looking down at the snuggling girl.

The Witcher looked down at the sleeping woman, whatever Cersi has blown in her face had rendered the women into a deep sleep, but he could see signs that the substance was lifting, but there was enough space between Brightwater and the road they were on to deter her from running off. Adva shifted and mumbled something indecipherable before she repositioned herself in the crook of his neck, her lips brushed against his golden skin, sending a shiver of pleasure down his body. The last two days had been pure torture, to feel her warmth through his thick armour was the worst suffering he had ever endured, he wanted nothing more than to strip them both of them of every stitch of clothing and feel skin upon skin. Geralt groaned lowly as her lips ghosted over his skin. The sooner he reached Kaer Morhen, and Vesemir, the better, whatever this bond was between them was not something he knew of, it was unknown territory and therefore dangerous. Geralt only wish was that she remained asleep till they got there.

‘What… so she is going to be free, you freed her… actually freed her. She can leave… get on with her life.’ Jaskiers face broke into a bright smile. ‘I knew you wouldn’t do a thing like that; there is a place in Vevan that we could leave her, a friend of mine owns a tavern… said he would leave it to me one day ha! Rosemary and Thyme, it is a decent place, she would be looked after there.’ the singer gushed.

Geralt ignored the bard and rode on a few more feet till he came to a perfect patch of land and dismounted, carefully to stop the girl from falling  as he went. Letting her slide down the saddle, he carried her bridal style to the foot of a tree. Gentilly, the hunter, brushed a stray curl behind her ear. His shark-like eyes followed her features, pale honey skin and plump pink lips parted with a soft snore. Geralt smiled tenderly as he rubbed his calloused thumb over her parted lips.

‘Bronn is a decent man; he will keep her. His son is about her age; you never know it could be fate. Would make an interesting song.’ Jaskier grinned plopping himself down in the stump of a tree.

A vicious growl rose in the monster hunters throat. ‘She isn’t going anywhere, Adva is staying with me and not going near any tavern owners son.’

‘So she is free…to stay with you.’ Jaskier gawked.

‘Hmmm.’

‘Geralt… you have been hunting monsters too long, your beginning to act like one. Adva is a person, living breathing women, whom some dark wizard tried to set a Griffin on and then got sold and knocked out with weird powder. How do you think she is going to react when she wakes up…. She is going to wake up, right?’

‘Listen to me Bard and listen well.’ Geralt gritted out as he menacingly took a step closer.  ‘There are things happening that you cannot comprehend, things that even I don’t fully understand. Adva will be staying with me till I figure out what is happening; whether you like it or not, if you get in my way I will unseem you balls to brain, understand…. I liked you better when you didn’t talk, the last five days have been bliss.’ Geralt grunted as he laid out his bedding and carefully tucked Adva in.

Jaskier eyed him with care, the grump side of him was expected but never this…hostile. The singer watched as Geralt pulled the blanket around her shoulders, never in the entire time he had known the cranky man had he seen Geralt this tender, aside from Ciri, but this was different. Even with Yennefer, there was not this level of this…sweetness; the care was considerate and almost loving. Geralt was sure to put her on his bedding each night they stopped, kept the fire going and rubbed a cooling lotion on her side. Adva’s side was healing nicely no longer the harsh crimson. The singer watched as the monster hunter pulled a dead leaf from the mass of curls before he stood adjusting his sword on his back as he moved.

‘I am going to get wood, keep on eye on Adva.’ Geralt grunted as he marched off into the wilderness.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jaskier strummed his lute idly, and his eyes lingered over the sleeping form. The fading light brushed against her hair softly; it made her appear angelic, she skin glowed lowly, she was indeed stunning, swan-like neck leading to a voluptuous figure. A million questioned threw through the singer’s mind; this girl seemed normal, innocent,  just another girl caught up in the mess of the world. But nothing was as it seemed, he saw her launch a blast of water at the Griffin, saw it attach her, saw Tradi madness that consumed his eyes, even in his dying moments that rage still filled his mind.

The bard began to hum along as he plucked at the chords, brows furrowed as he stared at the sleeping form as she stirred before snuggling back down. Jaskier had lost count of the years he had known Geralt, and he trusted him, for all his menacing and boarish ways, and despite his protest, Geralt always did the right thing because at heart he was a hero and that is why Jaskier trusted him. Jaskier trusted Geralt not to do anything underhand but there was a niggling feeling in the back of his mind, something he couldn’t put into words. The thought slipped from his mind as a soft gasp caught his attention as the swaddled figured bolted upright.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Adva blinked, her eyelids fluttered several times as the world in front of her came into focus. The sky above her was transitioning from day to night; the light was just descending into darkness. The trees where willows, the leaves were dangling over her, gently dancing the wind above her. The women pressed her eyes together as a pinched pain throbbed at the bridge of her nose.

Groaning, Adva pushed herself up on her elbows sleepily taking in her surroundings. It was a clearing, surrounded by a dense wall of foliage, vivid greens and soothing browns. Across from her, the young poet from the tavern stared at her with wide, terrified eyes. Pushing herself up further the blanket she had been enveloped in fell to her waist, and the sweet scent of spiced wood bombarded her senses.

‘Your awake!’ the bard exclaimed as stood placing his lute against the fallen tree he had been resting on.

‘Where am I?’ Adva said shakily, eyes narrowing at the man who stood hesitantly as she unsteadily stood to her feet. She felt as weak as a newborn calf; she managed to make a couple of steps before her legs gave up from under her. Jaskier lurched forward clamping his arms around her, as they collapsed in a pile.

Having his crouch pushed up against a plush butt was something Jaskier enjoyed immensely and the squirming made the sensation all the more pleasurable. After all, he was a man and the position would make even the most devoted man feel something but Jaskier,  though he was many things was a gentleman. Squirming out from under her, he was able to pull her up against the fallen tree and flop back next to her.

Adva roughly rubbed her eyes as she tried to get her world back into focus; her mind was a flurry of pictures and noise. The last thing she remembers was… Tradi, the Griffin… gods the Griffin…. Her side and then Cersi and the Witcher and that weird powder.

‘Oh, my gods……Oh no…no…no’ Adva hissed as she tried to stand.

‘Shhhhhhhh shhhhhhh please be quiet it okay!’ Jaskier cooed. ‘Geralt…Geralt….. Gods sake where is he…how long does it take to collect some firewood.’ Jaskier muttered to himself.

‘Be quiet! Be quiet; you kidnapped me!’ Adva snapped scrambling to her feet, resting her body against the tree and her legs become slowly accustomed to taking her weight.

‘Well technically… Geralt brought you….’ Jaskier rambled before the words died suddenly on his lips as he was stared down at the furious blue eyes of a woman enraged.

Adva grabbed the first thing she could lay her hands, the silky wood of the neck of the hazel lute and swung it half-heartedly at him before her chest began to heave dramatically.

In her entire life, she had never been outside of Brightwater, her own little world, safe and comfortable, till the Griffin invaded it and god knows what Tradi had to do with it. Panic surged through her, bile rising through her throat which she swallowed back down.

‘Put me lute down… I have had it since I was 12…please...’ Jaskier begged, holding his hands out in surrender.

‘Where am I?’ she demanded.

‘We are in Kaedwen… well near Kaedwen.’ Jaskier stated inching closer, earning a harsh glare and the instrument raised slightly higher, causing him to take a step back.

‘ Kaedwen?... Kaedwen that is almost a weeks journey from Brightwater…How….How long have I been asleep?’ Adva didn’t need an answer the pity in the man's eyes was enough to tell her all she wanted to know. Cersi had put her to sleep to allow some Witcher to carry her off into the world with some paper that essentially made her his slave.

‘I need to go….I want to go back… I am leaving.’ Adva whimpered as she lowered the lute, which Jaskier snatched back and pressed it to his chest like a mother with her child.

‘Thing is…Geralt.’ Jaskier sighed in relief as the hulking figure of the Witcher silently emerged from the bushed with an extensive collection of sticks and logs. The white-haired man froze as he saw the shivering figure of the curvy brunette.

‘Fuck…’ Geralt cursed as he dropped the pile of wood and clicked his fingers with a crisp, satisfying click. ‘Igni’  and with the single word, the fire roared to life with a crackle and a spit.

Geralt had thought the powder would have lasted for another couple of days, despite all Cersi’s skill her dreamless slumber powder was well below par. Geralt growled deeply as he stood to his full height to survey the small women, her clothes were dishevelled and ragged from the 5-day ride, feature tight with terror as she looked between both the men. A soft tugged pulled ar his heart as she stumbled away from him as he stepped towards her, the smell of fear thick in the air.

‘How dare you!....Take me back right now.’

‘I don’t think, so me baeg yn.’ Geralt purred as he stopped in front of her.

‘Take me back right now; I am not something you can buy and sell. Take me back home.’ Adva snarled, angry filled her eyes as a laugh rolled through his body.

‘Do you really think you have a home now? Tradi set a creature free to attack the people of your city because of you. For some silly book. Your friends sold you to me without so much as an ounce of hesitation. Is that somewhere you want to go back to. Even without all that I still wouldn’t let you, if Tradi suspects something about you, something that he could use others will find out. You wouldn’t want to put others in danger…do you?’ Geralt purred in his usually velvet tone; one perfect eyebrow arched quizzicly as he looked down at her.

‘Geralt!’ The young bard shriek as he gawped at the Witcher.

Tears breamed Adva’s eyes; it was all too much. Everything had happened too fast she could keep up, it was too much to process. Everything she had ever known was gone, but if the Witcher was right how could she go back? What Tradi did was mad, he had always been obsessed with power and it was only so long before he did something like this, but Adva has never thought he would do something like that. The book was just that a book of notes, a journal of thoughts and facts, nothing to kill for. If there was really something more, something dangerous going on she wouldn’t be the one to endanger anyone.

Silent tears rolled down her face as she dry heaved into her hand and crouched down against the log. Jaskier knelt next to her as curled his arm around her as the woman shook and gagged with anxiety, tossing the Witcher a scathing look as the singer attempted to comfort her as her world collapsed around her.

Geralt eyes narrowed as he watched the cuckolding bard tended to the exkitchen maiden, a deep burn bubbled away in his gut and regret pricked against the back on his mind. This was why he didn’t talk; he only dug himself into holes. The white wolf opened and shut his mouth several times trying and failing to think of things to say to comfort. Rage simmered under his skin as Adva nudged closer into Jaskier’s shoulder as her gags stopped and her cries turned into little whimpers.

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me baeg yn- My Little One

Sorry for going AWOL for so long. Hope this makes up for my absence.

What does everyone think? I hope it meets up with expectation. Hopefully, the next chapter will have some significant Adva and Geralt interaction. Still working on how that is gonna work out. Once again if you have anything you want to see please leave a comment.

I am working on Part Two of Fated Destiny if anyone is interesting.

[delusionland]

' okay , before you give me a lecture , least i remind you that i'm not the first kid you have who this happened to , ' dick says , cryptic as the door opens. he's unable to keep the serious expression for long , a wide grin spreading across his face , and his little munchkin certainly helps out by no longer hiding behind his jacket ( and the bulk of his body ) and instead floating upwards ( still holding onto his jacket ) until she could peer over his shoulder to get a good look at alfred for herself. ' mar'i , meet your grandfather , alfred. alfred , meet your granddaughter , mar'i. '

‘Alfred, my good man! Let me introduce you to---’ A young boy stands before an excessively lanky man smelling of sandlewood, just past twenty. The boy tries to hide behind his Father’s pantlegs, a bit older than you would expect to display such shyness. Niether of them want to be here. His Father tells him to straighten up, to face his new butler head-on, like a man. In that, Alfred hears his own Father’s gruff voice, a larger than life personality that would fill any room he entered. The young boy’s cheeks pink, and he delicately places forth his hand. Alfred smiles, bows, and kneels to his level. 

“You know, I’ve heard of you.” Of course he has. Even across the pond---the newspapers tell stories of the Wayne boy and his transition. Alfred had shared the standard English breakfast with boyfriend & girlfriend alike with news of the boy’s journey for months. Americans, they had all said. Leave the kid alone.

The boy’s brows knit, furling wrinkles into light fuzz, his forehead like sphinx cat’s back. And in that moment, Alfred can swear he can read the child’s mind, so apparent is every worry in his trembling lips, his still full & round cheeks. He does not know whether to retract his hand. It twitches, and the boy turns just slightly as if to request back-up from his Father.

“All good things, Master Bruce.” He takes his hand, shakes it. Joy spreads across his face like a rash of happiness. In the next months, Alfred would guide the child through a bout of chicken pox, the flu, and several different private school bullies. Each time he would play Bruce’s worries like a well-tuned viola, turning wrinkles like strings to well-strung notes of pride.

There’s nothing like meeting a child for the first time.

‘This is---’ ‘Richard Grayson.’ Bruce’s booboos did not prepare Alfred for Dick’s casts, stitches and fractures---but fortunately for the family, while Bruce was off learning poisonous darts and magic, Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth was learning much more practical skills. Long nights with hot cocoa and marshmellows, helping Richard with his homework when Bruce was not so inclined. Richard’s face was not so chubby & elastic as his second Father’s, and his sullen grimace to start with often bore more resemblance to his second Father’s now than then, but when he smiled----oh, the world wanted to do backflips with that boy.

‘You have some explaining to do, Master Bruce.’ ‘His name is Jason, he---’ Alfred learned just as much from Jason as Jason did from Bruce. Everyone calls Dick and Steph the chatty ones, but Jason? At his most hyperactive, Dick couldn’t hold a candle to him. Jason settled into a life of luxury far quicker than Dick---loved to have a ‘cool British Butler friend.’ They shared so many laughs, despite Jason’s near-constant disrespect to start. They bonded over being poor, they bonded over Bruce, they bonded over a mutual love of tea & junk food & music. Bruce talked of Jason as if he was always a criminal---born bad & angry. But Alfred remembers Jason’s cheeks full of brandname junk food, what he called ‘the good stuff’---dancing to Little Richard like no one was watching.

‘Damian. Damian Wayne.’ The boy introduced himself, every bit the image of his Father, as if from an alternate dimension, a little brother lost to time. In every way, Alfred had wondered when exactly Bruce had changed from that chubby-cheeked boy into the Bat. Was it Alfred’s fault---or was it something more, a biological assurance that he would flock to the night with his level of trauma? He could not correct his mistakes with Master Bruce, now. But he could try to help Master Damian, who had a hidden soft spot for animals that untethered his wrinkled brow---and Bruce’s same seasonal sniffles, that only Alfred had the proper cure for.

Alfred can’t help himself, looking at this girl, the well of tears in his eyes. He sees all the youths he’s met, most important to his soul, in her face. The spitting image of the handsome Dick and beautiful Kori---and yet, so perfectly her own. Shy, and sweet. Hiding, just like Bruce.

“Hello, Miss Mar’i.” He bows his head, so pleased that in his old age, he no longer has to kneel or crouch to get eye level with his grandchildren. “It is so wonderful to meet you. I am so pleased to be able to welcome you to one of your Father’s many homes. My name is Alfred Pennyworth. I have served this house for three generations, over fifty years of service. And I am delighted to serve you & your family for the rest of my days.”

“Would you like a cup of hot chocolate, with mini-a-ture marshmellows? Your Father is still very fond of the beverage, as I’m sure you very well know.”

Regardless of whether or not the child is capable of speech, he will continue to talk to her like she is an adult, capable of understanding, capable of listening, capable of so much more than any adult that condescends or speaks down to will be able to comprehend. He can tell already, as Mar’i smiles down at him, and he puts out his hand for her to take and hold. They are going to get along absolutely splendidly. He feels played like a fiddle, and the bittersweet song finally errs more towards the sweet.

[whynoteswhispered]

Bandages

This is a short little Naruto/Sasuke fic I’ve been working on this month. It is posted on AO3 in two parts but I’m just going to post it as one unified story here. Trigger Warnings: Suicide attempt, depression, heavy content surrounding these topics. wc: 7,209

Bandages:

The sun crept in as it always did; darkness being replaced by a façade of warmth. Naruto found himself rolling away from the light, his eyes opening slightly to find Sasuke sitting awake – his hands resting on his face, pulling at his hair.

“Sasuke…” Naruto’s sleepy voice surprised him; he immediately removed his hands from his face as Naruto rested his hand on his lap. “What’s wrong?”

As his eyes became clearer, he was immediately startled awake – shifting to sitting beside Sasuke. “What’s wrong?”

Tears were rapidly falling down his face; his face red from where his hands were resting. “I can’t do this anymore,” his tone was severe, words rushing from his mouth without much thought, “Naruto, I just can’t do this anymore.”

Finding Sasuke disheveled had become a common occurrence; ever since he came back to the village he found himself feeling less and less like himself. Sasuke has held all of his emotions in for so many years that now it would come in waves; however, calling it waves would be an understatement – his emotions came more like a tsunami, threatening to tear down everything in its path – including himself.  

“Hey,” Naruto pulled his hand to Sasuke’s face, allowing him to rest into it as he wiped away the tears, “you can do it Sasuke.” His lips brushed against his hair, “You have to do it.”

As Naruto looked down he saw blood staining the white cotton sheets that laid below him; panic arose in his body immediately.

“Sasuke –” Naruto leaned forward grabbing his wrists; a gash going across horizontally, blooding pooling along the edges – jumping from the darkness when given the chance. “Hey!”

Naruto turned to face him in the bed; tears still falling quickly – now from both sets of eyes. Sasuke’s complexion was pale; the dark circles under his eyes making him look as though he was on the verge of death.

“We have to leave, we have to –” Naruto leaned across the bed grabbing his phone,

“Please just let me die here; you can leave me. I wouldn’t blame you.” Sasuke’s voice sounded hollow; a shell of what it once was.

“No, no, no, no, no, no.” Naruto jumped up from the bed, panic causing his heart to ache in his chest – as he dialed 911 he grabbed bandages from the under-sink cabinet.

“Sasuke, please…” he crouched on the floor beside the bed, grabbing his wrist and wrapping it tightly – hoping, begging, for it to slow down the bleeding. “…Damnit! You can’t leave me Sasuke, not like this!” he was finding it harder to breathe the longer he thought about the situation he was in.

“What’s your emergency?” the operator on the phone finally spoke; startling him as he finished wrapping him – keeping his hand tightly pressed along the cut; silently begging that it would stop the bleeding, even if momentarily.

“You have to get an ambulance here quick – please – my partner cut himself, he’s bleeding really bad…” he lost his focus, now just speaking whatever came to his mind, “I can’t lose him – not again, not forever.”

The operator quickly acquired the location; keeping Naruto on the line so they could aid in helping Sasuke.

Keep pressure on it.

Grab more gauze.

Keep pressure on it.

Keep pressure on it.

Grab more gauze.

Naruto played out the things that the operator was telling him to do perfectly; all Sasuke could do was beg Naruto to give up – to stop helping him.

“Damnit Sasuke,” Naruto was ignoring the person on the phone, “don’t you know how much I love you?? – I’m not just going to give up and let you die right here, for fuck’s sake Sasuke I’m not going to let you die anywhere.”

Sasuke looked at Naruto with a deep woe in his eyes; contemplating the words that Naruto had spoken – his thoughts becoming harder and harder to process as the loss of blood began catching up to him.

“They should be arriving at your home momentarily,” the operator spoke softly – trying to keep Naruto calm, “I’m going to hang up now; keep the pressure on the wound until help arrives.”

He couldn’t even find the will to say anything back, instead, just clicking his phone off and tossing it onto the floor.

“I’m sorry Naruto –” Sasuke’s voice was barely above a whisper, “I – I didn’t mean to cause you any pain.”

“Shut up,” he gripped the wound tighter, “the amount of pain I’m in right now could never amount to the amount of pain you’re in.” he leaned forward, keeping his hand tightly on his wrist – kissing his forehead; his tears falling onto Sasuke’s shirt. “You’re going to be okay; I won’t leave you.”

A knock pounded against the door, “It’s unlocked.” Naruto yelled, tears rushing down his face as he looked at Sasuke.

He couldn’t rationalize how much pain he was in to think that this was the only option; to think that there was nothing else in this world for him. “I’ll just have to love him harder.” He thought to himself.

The two medical ninjas burst through the door; scrambling through the house before finding the bedroom door. As they burst in, Sasuke shifted his eyes to Naruto. “I’m sorry.” He mouthed silently.

“We are going to need you to move,” they took a step towards the bed, “we can handle it from here.”

“I’m not leaving him.” Naruto was crying, his voice wavering with every infliction.

“We can’t help him unless you let go of his wrist.” The ninja crouched beside Naruto, placing their hand on his shoulder. They slowly leaned forward and grabbed Sasuke’s wrist from him. Naruto immediately flinching and standing to his feet.

He watched as they poured their chakra into his wound; the color across his body remaining pale.

Naruto began to feel queasy; the anxiety of the situation finally catches up to him and he immediately ran off to the bathroom – slamming the dooring behind him.

“Damnit,” Naruto looked at himself in the mirror, “Damnit!” he yelled again, punching down into the table as if they were all of Sasuke’s woes.

He darted over to the toilet, lurching back and letting all of the panic leave his body.

“He’s going to be fine.” He kept telling himself, “I’ll get him the help he needs – even if he says no.”

He began to clean himself up at the sink – looking back at the reflection and barely being able to recognize the person looking back at him. “How did you let him get to this point? You knew he wasn’t happy – he told you he wanted to be gone – how could you let him do this? You should’ve kept your eyes on him – he shouldn’t be awake crying by himself – why weren’t you there for him?” Naruto threw his fist into the counter again; his knuckles immediately dotting with blood.

“Fuck –” Naruto spoke under his breath as he ran his fist under the strikingly cold water.

“Excuse me.” A soft voice came from behind the door; Naruto immediately threw open the door – nearly knocking the medical ninja down.

“Will you be riding with us to the hospital?” Her voice was soft; such a contrast to the situation at hand.

“Is he okay?” He looked right through her, his eyes finding Sasuke on a stretcher – eyes closed and bandages wrapping the lower half of his arm – blooding already threatening to pass through the material.

“Sir,” she kept her even tone, “we need to get him to the hospital; are you coming in the ambulance with us?”

“Yes.” Naruto nearly yelled at this young ninja, “Is he okay?”

“He’ll be okay, but he’s lost a lot of blood and we are going to have to place him in a psychiatric watch for a few days,” she paused; Naruto barely being able to keep his temper at bay as he awaited her to continue on, “You won’t be able to visit him there.”

“Fuck that,” he scoffed, throwing his shoes on, “I’ll visit him whenever I want.”

He knew he was being harsh; he knew that the young ninja had no say in the policies at hand, but he couldn’t help but lash out – not when he was staring directly at the only person he ever loved on a stretcher in their bedroom.

The ride in the ambulance was deafening; the sounds of Sasuke groaning in pain causing the air around Naruto to feel thick – suffocating. He couldn’t help watch the ninja frantically poking him with various needles; one staying above him constantly giving chakra to him.

“When we arrive you’ll be asked to sit in the waiting room – Lady Tsunade already spoke to us letting us know that she would meet you there to discuss what happened.” They spoke to not stir Sasuke, Naruto just nodding his head.

“What am I going to tell her?” his hands clenched into fists resting atop his knees. “I failed him – that’s what I have to tell her. He’s barely been back in the village for six months and I haven’t been able to help him transition back at all.” Tears continued to fall down his face as his chest fluttered with panic as they pulled into the hospital.

Naruto pressed past the two ninjas as they pulled in; grasping onto Sasuke’s hand, grabbing onto it as if it would be the last time he would ever be able to do so. “I’ll be there for you when you wake up Sasuke – I’ll get you through this.” His voice was shaking; tears falling onto the white blanket that was wrapped around him.

Naruto couldn’t help but let his gaze look over at his wrist; blood still soaking through the bandages as fast as they could add another. Nausea; immediate nausea. Naruto thought he was going to be sick in the ambulance; he knew he had to keep it up just for a few more moments – to be strong for Sasuke, even if he wasn’t able to see him.

As soon as the back doors of the ambulance opened, Tsunade was standing awaiting their arrival.

“What happened?” her voice pierced through the rest of the chaos as they pulled Sasuke down and rushed him inside.

“I –” Naruto broke. He couldn’t do anything for the tears that were falling; screaming for help as they plummeted to the ground. He felt dizzy, nauseous, scared, confused – but mostly pissed off; not at Sasuke, but at himself. “I couldn’t’ help him!” his tone was above the normal range; Tsunade immediately realizing the always happy and energetic Naruto was nowhere to be found. “He cried to himself all night and I never woke up; damnit!” he dug his fingers into the tops of his thighs, “If I would’ve woken up, we wouldn’t be here – he would be fine – he’ll be fine.” His voice trailing off; only speaking as if to reassure himself.

“I don’t think I understand Naruto?” she rested her hand on his shoulder, pulling him close to her, “Do you think you can explain so we know how to better help him?”

“He doesn’t want help.” He contemplated stating; but, he didn’t want to worry her – he didn’t want her to give up on him.

“Come on,” she pulled him forward, “let’s go sit and you can tell me everything you feel comfortable sharing.”

The chaos of the waiting room was uncomfortable, even for Tsunade the restlessness of the other waiting loved ones was making her skin crawl; people crying, praying, hoping that their loved ones would make it through the morning.

As they sat down many eyes darted towards them, specifically Naruto. Naruto couldn’t go anywhere without people staring; especially after the Fourth Ninja War – even more so once Sasuke came back to the village.

He couldn’t even manage to pay them a passing glance; as soon as he slouched into the chair he lost all composure once more. His body shaking in fear; shaking in anger. “Fuck.” He spoke under his breath; knowing that him losing his composure wasn’t helping Sasuke any – but at this point, nothing was helping him.

“Come on Naruto; just tell me what happened?” Tsunade leaned towards him, her voice low to not draw suspicion from the people surrounding them.

“He hates himself; he hates himself so much that he thought that this was his only choice.” His hands dug into his hair – pulling from the roots.

“Sasuke did this to himself?” she pondered.

“Fucking hell Tsunade did you think I did this to him?” he snapped his head up to glare at her; a pain spreading in his chest when realized that maybe she wasn’t insinuating something too off.

“No – I just didn’t know what happened.” She shook her head, “I thought you said he was doing okay.”

“He only tells me what he wants me to know;” the tears falling down his face still begging him to not let them fall, “he’s been having a rough week.” He shifts his focus forward; voice dropping lower – he finally figures that the first step in getting Sasuke help is to tell Tsunade all he knows. “He had a nightmare; at least that’s what he told me. It was about his family – that’s all I know. After that he woke me up sobbing in the bed beside me, I held him there and he told me that he wished Itachi would’ve killed him then so he wouldn’t be in the pain he was in.” he wiped the tears on his chin and took a deep breath in, “The rest of the week he was distant – more distant than usual. He would hold me and tell me that he loved me, tell me that the world almost seemed worth staying in because of me – I didn’t think about how deep these statements were; I didn’t think he was thinking about killing hims-” he cut himself off, choking on the tears falling in the back of his throat; choking on the thought that he didn’t help him when he should have.

“You couldn’t have known.” She placed her hand against his shoulder, “He’ll be fine.”

“I got here as soon as I heard,” Kakashi crouched down in front of the two of them, “are you okay?” his eyes staying on Naruto.

All Naruto could do was shake his head “no” as he fell forward, resting his head in the crook of Kakashi’s neck. He cried harder than he had the whole morning, feeling comfort in his sensei’s present. Kakashi just let him while Tsunade filled him to the best of her ability.

Kakashi trembled under Naruto when she said he did it to himself; Kakashi knew that pain all too well – but he never attempted to act on it; at least not to the point of hospitalization.

“Hey,” he pushed him off his shoulder, “you need to be strong for him; you can’t go in there and be a blubbering mess – you know Sasuke wouldn’t appreciate that.”

Naruto agreed and fell back into Kakashi; he couldn’t stop himself from crying, it was as though all of Sasuke’s pain was coming out of him in the form of tears.

“Uzumaki Naruto?” a medical ninja peered from the corner, Kakashi pushed him up and he immediately stood up and rushed over to her.

“Can I see him?” he was still trying to find his voice that was lost deep in the darkness surrounding the morning.

“Follow me.” She opened the door and began walking back.

Naruto took note of how cold the floor was, the air smelling like antibacterial spray, the way the fluorescent lights ricocheted off the laminate floor into his eyes – hurting the already swollen area. These small details would resonate with him for the rest of his life; this day would stay with him for the rest of his life.

“You’ve already been told you won’t be able to visit him once we send him to the psychiatric watch, correct?” she kept her gaze forward and her voice soft.

“Yes.” He spoke frustrated, recalling that he meant to say something to Tsunade about that.

“Well, he needs to stay overnight here so we can watch his vitals – so you’re able to stay the night in his room if you so wish.” She turned and opened the door.

The lighting gave a blue hue to the room; the air was frigid. In the middle of the room was a hospital bed; a white cotton blanket wrapping around the person lying in it. The hall flooring was replaced with fake-wooden floors. It was meant to be calming, but Naruto was anything but calm.

As soon as his eyes found Sasuke he held his breath; he could feel his body threatening to cry again. “I have to be strong – I have to for Sasuke.” Naruto reminded himself of what Kakashi had told him.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” she turned to leave the room, “if you need anything you just have to hit the button beside the bed.”

Naruto nodded and immediately sprinted, as casually as he could, to the side of the bed.

“Hey –” he spoke softly, hoping that Sasuke would respond – hoping, that even though he looked so peaceful sleeping, that he would wake up so that he could see with his own eyes that he was alright.

Sasuke groaned and opened his eyes, immediately squinting from the light peering in from the window.

“Naruto?” Sasuke didn’t sound anything like himself; his voice was defeated – no longer cocky or stubborn.

“I told you I wasn’t going to leave you.” He spoke with such sincerity that a few of the tears that he was trying so hard to keep in escaped and found themselves fleeting quickly to the ground.

“I –” he immediately started crying, Naruto wrapping his arms around him as tightly as he could without hurting him. “I’m sorry.”

“No apologies. Just stay here with me; please.” He was begging him; he knew that he couldn’t handle losing him – especially not like this.

He nodded his head as he leaned into his shoulder; cries causing his whole body to shudder against him. Naruto placed gentle kisses in his hair, trying hard to keep himself from breaking down – to keep himself strong.

“I’m going to get you the help that you need, okay?” Naruto pleaded as he tightened his grip around him. “Everything will be okay; you just have to stay here – you can’t leave.”

Sasuke cried harder; he was shaking in Naruto’s arms, his voice weak from exhaustion, “I love you.”

That was all it took for Naruto to not be able to hold back anymore; the gates he placed around himself so that he would be strong were immediately torn down just by three simple words – nonetheless, three words that he wasn’t sure he was ever going to hear again.

Tears started falling rapidly into the darkness of Sasuke’s hair; he tried to keep his breathing even to somewhat emulate the gate was still strong.

“I love you too.” He placed a delicate kiss in his tousled hair; damp from sweat and tears. “You’re going to be okay.”

Sasuke nodded into his shoulder, “Naruto I’m really tired.” His voice was soft as Naruto pushed back to look at his face. His hand grazing the tears that were still falling gracefully down the sides of Sasuke’s cheeks; Sasuke closing his eyes with his touch.

“He’ll be okay.” Naruto reminds himself as he plops himself in the chair beside the bed. He places his feet up beside Sasuke; thankfully not waking him. Quickly he found himself drifting to sleep; thankfully, another sleep in the presence of the person he loves – breathing and hopeful.

Two weeks pass by:

The cold floors weren’t as shocking as they were the first night; Naruto had become accustomed to walking through the halls – breathing in the scent of antiseptic and medication. The guttural feeling of despair still pulling at his chest when the hospital door rang to let someone know there was a visitor.

“Uzumaki” The door clerk smiled and nodded at Naruto as he passed the doorway.

“Today is the big day.” He spoke cheerily; something that was only supposed to be a few days had quickly turned into a two-week stay at inpatient – but finally, he was going to get to bring Sasuke home.

Naruto had spent the last two weeks sitting in the visitor area; just enjoying breathing the same air as Sasuke – he only got to see him once. When he would go home he would frantically clean the bedroom, trying to rid the place of any memories of that night. He had to purchase new bedding, however, he tried to find bedding as close to the original as possible so Sasuke wouldn’t notice. He went through and cleaned out most sharp objects; sadly, he wasn’t able to get rid of much considering their careers.

“Can you sign this paperwork just assuring us that you understand what his treatment was for, all the medication he will be going home with, also, just the understanding that readjustment after leaving in-patient can be quite difficult for some?” The nurse pointed her finger along the line where he was expected to sign; Naruto signed impatiently as he gripped the sweatshirt he brought for Sasuke tightly in his arm.

“He’ll be out in a few minutes if you want to take a seat; he just has to sign some paperwork as well.”

Naruto nodded and took a seat in the same chair he had been sitting in for the past two weeks. He could feel his heart racing in his chest as he gripped the sweatshirt tighter, pulling it up to his face and taking in the faint scent left behind.

His chest tightened as he thought about seeing him, thought about wrapping his arms around him, thought about kissing his forehead before they fell asleep. He wanted to shower Sasuke in more love than he could ever possibly handle, but he knew he was going to have to take it slow and give him the space that he needs.

“Right this way,” the door opened slightly as the nurse poked her head out; finding Naruto and giving him a smile as she pushed the door open more.

Naruto found himself immediately standing as he recognized the thick black hair coming through the doorway. His heart was pounding out of his chest; the feeling of tears welling up in the corners of his eyes immediately overtaking him. He’s fine. He reminded himself. It took a lot of willpower for Naruto not to run over and embrace Sasuke but he knew that that would be frowned upon.

Sasuke looked up, dark circles enveloping his eyes, but a smile came across him as soon as he saw Naruto’s face. Home.

“Sasuke,” Naruto tried to keep his tone even as he walked over, clenching the sweatshirt tightly in his grip as if Sasuke’s safety depended on the sweatshirt. “hi.” He was kicking himself because he couldn’t think of anything else to mutter out to him.

“Hi.” Sasuke smiles as he immediately wrapped his arms around him; Naruto was taken aback by how tightly he was gripping him. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” He nuzzled his face into the crook of his neck; he couldn’t emphasize how much he missed him enough – the countless nights he woke up in panic recalling what happened to then not have Sasuke by his side was enough to nearly drive him crazy.

The nurse let out a polite cough, “If we can have you both just sign a few more things and then you are free to go home Sasuke.” She smiled as she placed a few more sheets of paper onto the desk.

Sasuke wrapped his hand tightly in Naruto’s as they both leaned over the desk, signing their names in unison on all the required spaces.

“Alright, Uchiha Sasuke.” The nurse picked up the paperwork and straightened them out on the desk, “You are free to leave.” She smiled and waved at the two of them, Sasuke already pulling Naruto out the door.

“Wait, Wait.” Naruto came to a stop, “It’s pretty cold outside, so I brought you this –” He held out the sweatshirt as Sasuke turned around and looked at him. “Here, I’ll help.”

They stood in the doorway, the cold air blowing across their hands. Naruto opened up the sweatshirt, holding it over Sasuke’s head. Without much thought he threw his arms up into the sweatshirt, allowing Naruto to pull it down over his head, he tugged it down over his body. When Naruto got it completely over him he brushed out the wrinkles and then leaned forward and placed a small kiss on the top of his head; “It’s good to see you smile again.”

Sasuke nodded back at him; giving Naruto a smile as the two of them made their way out of the hospital. He immediately took in a deep breath of the fresh brisk air outside, his arms wrapping around himself.

Naruto wrapped his arms around him as they walked to warm him up, “Are you hungry? We could go to Ichiraku?” he rubbed his hands alongside the tops of Sasuke’s arms, being careful not to touch his lower arms.

“I’m actually pretty tired,” he kept his gaze forward, “can we just go home?”

“Sure.” Naruto patted him on the shoulder as the two of them continued walking on their route home.

Their walk was quiet; Sasuke’s fingers tightly interlaced into Naruto’s – Naruto trying to notice every small detail that he had missed all too much during their time apart.

As they got closer to their home, Naruto could feel his heart begin to race; he couldn’t help but wonder if he had gotten everything cleaned up. Will Sasuke notice the change of sheets? Did I put away all the sharp objects? What happens if I missed one? Is he really okay?... Is he really okay? Naruto pondered to himself, watching Sasuke as he unlocked the front door – he could tell he was nervous too.

“I didn’t know you could keep the place this clean.” Sasuke jokes as he kicked off his shoes and placed them against the wall.

Naruto laughed and threw his hands behind his head, “Well sure Sasuke, I can keep the house clean –” he ran up to him, embodying him in a tight hug – his lips wavering right beside his ear, “- I can keep the house clean if it’s for you.”

Sasuke wasn’t prepared for the affection that he was trying to give him; immediately he threw his arms around Naruto pulling him in tighter; whatever words Naruto spoke were lost to him as he began to lose himself. Tears were falling rapidly onto their clothes before Naruto could realize anything was wrong.

“Oh, hey –” Naruto felt himself wavering; seeing Sasuke cry was something that he was prepared for – yet, not prepared for at all. He ran his hands through his hair, “it’s okay Sasuke.” He placed a kiss on the top of his head, “I’m here for you; I’ll always be here for you.”

He placed his face deeper into the crook of his neck, enjoying his scent – enjoying his breath – enjoying the feeling of his heart pattering in his chest. Home. Sasuke reminded himself. This is home.

Sasuke nor Naruto had a home growing up; families torn apart – or never started. Sasuke feeling the need to be perfect at everything to honor his family – to become stronger to fight his own brother. Naruto being mistreated and misunderstood by the entire village; scrounging for change at a young age just to be able to feed himself. Home was not easy for either of them; being with each other was the closest feeling of what they imagined home was supposed to be.

Sasuke could feel his heart beating out of his chest; he wanted to talk to Naruto, he wanted to apologize, truly apologize, for everything he put him through; from leaving the village to just two weeks ago. He deserves an apology. Sasuke had to think about his time in inpatient; they told him over and over again that he didn’t have to apologize for anything – especially not the incident that left him there – but he felt inclined that he had too. Looking at Naruto, Sasuke knew he wasn’t the same bubbly person he used to be – and he couldn’t help but blame himself.

“Sasuke,” Naruto placed his hand under his chin and lifted up, using his other hand to wipe away the tears as they fell rapidly down his cheeks, “I love you.” He kissed gently on his forehead, “Can you tell me what’s wrong? We can sit if you need?” he gestured towards the couch, which Sasuke immediately started walking towards.

“I’m sorry.” Sasuke let out as soon as he placed himself on the couch, “I’m sorry for leaving you all those years ago - I’m sorry I was too selfish to see how much you cared - I’m sorry I was too selfish to tell you how I felt - I’m sorry I ever tried to go against you – I’m sorry for this –” his voice was rushed, his thoughts all beginning to blend together as he began to pull up his sleeve to gesture the sutures along his wrist. As soon as Sasuke’s hand began lifting his sleeve Naruto met his hand with his own, holding his sleeve down to not allow him to pull it up.

His touch startled Sasuke, looking up he noticed Naruto’s eyes beginning to water – he could tell that he was trying so hard to hold in every bit of emotion that he could.

“Please,” he pleaded, “I don’t think I can handle that just yet.” Naruto dropped his gaze, still keeping his hand placed gently on top of Sasuke’s.

“I have to apologize, I –” Sasuke begged, “I don’t want you to hate me.” He shook his head, “You have to hate me.” He dropped his voice to just above a whisper; he didn’t want to admit that he thought Naruto hated him – but to him, there was no way he couldn’t.

“Stop.” Naruto was losing every emotion he worked so hard to hold back, like a storm raging war against a perfectly calm sea, “Can’t you tell how much I love you; I’ve chased you for so many years –” Naruto shakes his head, disregarding each tear that fell from his face, “How is it not obvious how much I love you – how I would give anything away just to have you in my life, even if just for a fleeting moment?”

Naruto watched as Sasuke trembled at his words, his hand still resting along his wrist – squeezing slightly as if to show himself that he was still there.

“Sasuke, I could never hate you.” He removes his hand from Sasuke’s and places it instead along his cheek, brushing the tears away with his thumb as they fell rampantly, “I had plenty of opportunities to hate you but that never once crossed my mind; I just wanted to save you. I wanted us to finally be a family, a family that neither of us got to experience. I wanted to hold you at night and tell you about my day; I wanted you to tell me about yours.” He took note of how shaky his voice was, he was in no way holding himself together for Sasuke – but he wasn’t quite sure if composure was what Sasuke needed, “I wanted you to smile; even if only at me – I just wanted to watch your lips twitch upwards stupidly not because you felt like you had to, but because you were happy.”

Naruto studied Sasuke’s expression as he fell apart in front of him; his emotions tearing away the upbeat personality that he had held on to for so long – each tear shedding off a layer as it fell across his skin.

“I want to be happy.” Sasuke’s voice was small, so small that it made Naruto feel like he had been yelling at him, “I want nothing more than to be happy with you, but-” he feels himself waiver, and Naruto’s heart sinks, “there shouldn’t be a ‘but,” he thinks to himself. Sasuke was shaking more; his tears falling like dangerous shards of glass ready to pierce anything in their way. “Naruto, I don’t deserve to be happy.”

Hearing his name fall on his lips in a sentence like that made Naruto’s heartache with grief; how would he ever convince him that he deserved more than happiness? That he deserved to be loved; in all actuality, Naruto truly believed that Sasuke deserved the world and if there was anything more than that, he deserved that as well.

He can tell he has lost himself in the abyss of emotion when Sasuke looks up at him and his expression is one of shock; Naruto couldn’t help but think that though this is not nearly the first time he had found himself crying more than he was smiling – it may be the first time Sasuke had seen it.

“You deserve to be happy.” Naruto struggled to find the words stuck between the gasps of air.

“I don’t.” Sasuke was blunt, his hand squeezing along his wrist – harder now; not reminding him that he was present and in the moment, instead giving him the pain he thought he deserved

“Please, stop.” Naruto searched his face, looking for any shred of emotion – instead he was met with the normal blank slate, only differing were the tears streaming down his face. It pained Naruto to see him like that but he couldn’t help but wonder how many nights Sasuke had spent disheveled and broken like this by himself; was this what he had looked like two weeks ago as the sun began to pour onto the darkness waiting inside?

He reached out, pulling the hand that Sasuke had gripped tightly around his wrist away from causing him more pain. He held their hands suspended between the two of them; his fingers tracing the small scars that scattered his hands. His eyes meeting Sasuke and he finally noticed a difference in his expression, pain. And not the kind of pain that is fixed by a mere doctor's visit – the kind of pain that keeps you up at night, wondering what is to come – wondering if anything in life is what you deserve – or if the pain is even worth it at all. His heart aches as he looks into his eyes; he only wished he could transfer all the feelings he had towards Sasuke to him just so he could know how incredibly important he was. He slowly moved his hand to the backside of Sasuke’s, continuing to trace the scars with his fingers. He slowly began to move their palms towards Sasuke’s chest, allowing Sasuke’s open palm to rest above his own heart.

“Do you feel that?” Naruto pleaded, his eyes lost in despair.

“Mhm,” Sasuke noted quietly, his eyes were closed as if he were feeling his heartbeat for the first time.

“Why do you need pain to remind you that you are alive when you have that to prove it; to prove that you are worthy of happiness and love and care.” Naruto can feel Sasuke’s heart beat faster under their hands. “Why do you continue to hurt yourself when instead you can be loved? Do you not think your heart deserves to be loved when all it’s known is hurt?”

Naruto is scrambling to get words out, he feels like nothing is making sense – but he knows that all Sasuke has known is hurt and pain; it’s all either of them have known.

“It does.” He kept his eyes tightly closed but Naruto could see the tears begin to fall harder, his voice hitching when he spoke – his heart racing faster.

He couldn’t help but pull his hand off his, immediately noting that Sasuke kept his hand firmly against his chest. Naruto reached forward and placed his palm on his face, once again finding himself wiping away tears faster than they could fall.

“I’m so sorry Sasuke that I couldn’t be there for you all those years that you were so alone. But, I’m here for you now, to give your heart the love that it has missed out on.” He closes his eyes to really think about everything they had been through together, “I’m here for you even if you need me at four in the morning because you had a bad dream; I’m here and I’m not leaving – not unless you tell me to.”

Compared to now, Sasuke hadn’t fully let himself cry up to this point, now he was losing it – each tear accompanied by a deep inhale in; as if each tear was suffocating him by its mere existence. His hand left his chest and instead wrapped itself around Naruto’s that was resting on his face.

The couch that had once brought them comfort after a long day of work; the couch that more often than not Sasuke would find himself tangled in Naruto’s arms as he placed delicate kisses along his neck, the couch where Naruto first told Sasuke he loved him was now being used as a place of mourning, a place of brokenness, a place that darkness was welcomed instead of turned away.

The rough-warn edges of the couch looked brand-new compared to the two warn and desperate lovers that rested upon it. Both of them falling apart with the others touch; a touch they both desperately needed but somehow felt like a thousand needles upon impact.

“I don’t,” Sasuke stumbled on his words as he realized how broken his voice actually sounded; he couldn’t help but wonder if this was finally him allowing himself to feel for everything that has gone wrong in his life, “I don’t want you to leave.” He would never allow himself to feel this much in another’s touch; he knew he could never love someone as much as he loved the crying idiot in front of him.

As he opened his swollen and blurry eyes he took in the way Naruto was patiently looking back at him – waiting for him to say more or give wordless permission for him to continue talking. He couldn’t help but notice the way his tears were falling freely with nothing stopping them from crashing onto the couch below them.

“Please don’t leave.” He couldn’t believe that he was practically begging Naruto to stay with him. He couldn’t tell if it was the influx of emotions he was feeling or if it was the various medications in his system – regardless, he knew he meant it from his still-beating heart that he wanted him there with him, always.

Through the hushed gasps of air and the violently falling tears came a delicate smile spreading across Naruto’s face. Sasuke felt his heartbeat harder as he watched an odd calmness come across his face

“That’s all I needed you to tell me.” Naruto somehow found an even speaking tone and made sure to speak every word clearly. Sasuke noticed a sparkle in his eyes that wasn’t there before; he hoped more than anything that that gleam in his eyes was proof that his fun, loud, annoying self was still there, that this was just a fleeting thing – that he hadn’t ruined the only good thing in his life.

He immediately found himself engulfed in Naruto’s embrace, his hand finding his way through his hair and resting just at the top of his head. Delicate kisses were placed on his forehead as he guided Sasuke towards him, laying him in his lap and gently as possible.

“That’s all you’ve ever needed to tell me.” His voice is just above a whisper and Sasuke closes his eyes allowing himself to feel everything for the second time that night.

There was a warmth to his chest, a warmth he hadn’t noticed before. Love? He pondered; he couldn’t help but wonder if this warmth was what he had been missing for so long. There was something familiar about it, however, it was a distant familiarity.

Did I really want to die? Sasuke thought back two weeks ago; he couldn’t help but wonder if Naruto had held him like this that night if he would’ve made the same decisions. But, he didn’t blame Naruto; he knew that he had kept all of his feelings hidden as best as possible as to not worry him.

The warmth in his chest had encapsulated his entire body; from his toes all the way to the top of his head where Naruto continued playing with his hair. He felt overwhelmed, but for the first time, it was an overwhelming feeling that he welcomed.

“Naruto,” Sasuke kept his eyes closed as the tears continued to fall, enjoying this new-found feeling, “I love you.”

Sasuke’s head rested against Naruto’s chest, as he spoke he noticed his heart beating quicker under his ear. Naruto’s hand going still in his hair for a moment before he quickly rustled his hair.

“I love you too Sasuke.” Naruto kept his voice soft, but Sasuke could tell that if anything the tears that were falling rampantly before were doing nothing but falling faster now.

The overwhelming feeling of warmth and love made an already tired Sasuke nearly immobile. He could feel his body slowly begin to get more weighted – he wasn’t sure if he would be able to move from Naruto’s lap, but he wasn’t sure that he wanted to anyway.

His eyes became heavy, and he knew that it was likely because of the medication that he ensured to take before coming home; though he never wanted this evening to end he couldn’t help but let sleep take over his body, quickly placing his head in the crook of Naruto’s shoulders. Taking in the last moment of warmth that he could only hope to feel again when he woke up.

Naruto felt Sasuke slowly become heavy in his arms; the nurses had told him to expect him to be exceptionally drowsy over the next few days as he adjusts to his medication, so it was no surprise to Naruto when he felt Sasuke’s breathing even out and his body stop trembling from the tears cried.

He couldn’t help but stare at him; the sun peering through the windows allowing warmth to fill the room, a warmth that covered Sasuke from head-to-toe; a warmth that was nothing but a façade a mere few weeks ago.

[a-dark-kiss]

Erika Sigvaldon’s Biography

Basic Information:

Name: Erika Sigvaldson. Gender: Female. D.O.B: Winter 994AD. Species: Vampire. Physical Age: 28. Actual Age: 1,027. Date of Transition: 1022AD. Sire: Kol Mikaelson. Sexuality: Bisexual.

Physical Description:

Height: 5ft 7inches.

Weight: 70kg.

Build: Strongly built, yet still agile.

Skin: Quite pale or ‘fair skinned’, even when well fed.

Hair: Despite it being styled very differently over the years, Erika’s hair has always stayed it’s natural golden colour. These days it falls down to just below her shoulder blades and often has small, thin braids in it.

Eyes: Generally a deep shade of mossy green, unless she’s starving or is about to feed.

Significant Marks/Scars: There are various thin and pale scars all over her body from her time as a warrior when she was human. But there are a few far more noticeable ones. As a child, when living in the same settlement as the Mikaelson family, Erika was also attacked by a wolf in the surrounding forest. Four thick scars line the back of her left thigh, where Erika was mauled whilst lost in the dark on a full moon. The witch Ayana used herbs and powerful magic to cleanse the infection that soon had taken root in the flesh, but these left grizzly scars behind. Some years later (at 14 years old), after fleeing back to Norway with a nearby settlement, she was whipped ten times as punishment after stabbing a man in the groin when she was caught stealing leather armour. The scars from those lashings are not as thick, nor as grizzly as the ones on the back of her thigh, but they are much longer. The worst of which starts at the back of her left shoulder and goes diagonally all the way down to her right hip.

Personality:

As a human Erika was generally a kind hearted and thoughtful person, but her temper was known throughout her adult life as a silent storm of hatred and sometimes even cruelty among the people in the town she fled to in Norway. When she was turned her already unpredictable temper was amplified. But so was her compassion and her kindness. 

Hobbies:

Despite reading thousands and thousands of books over the centuries, Erika continues to have a deep love for books. Her home in London that she has had since the late 1700s has an entire floor dedicated to the books that she has loved the most and collected on her travels around the world. She did try her hand at drawing for a while, but she found that it didn’t soothe her soul the way reading did. And then, during the first world war Erika took it upon herself to find new and exciting ways to use the rations that were passed and traded between human hands. Whilst choosing not to eat herself, she fed those around her and became quite a good cook in the process, which soon developed into a passion for baking.

Abilities:

Being nearly as old as the Original Family has given Erika extreme strength and speed, along with very heightened senses. As with most vampires that have a steady diet of human blood she is skilled at Compulsion. Whilst she was a human, she had an affinity for animals and this only became stronger once she was turned, leaving her able to soothe a distressed animal with ease.

Weaknesses:

Erika always wears a silver necklace that has a lapis lazuli crystal embedded into the small locket pendant that protects her from the sunlight. Without it, she can be killed when in direct sunlight. Vervain will weaken her if she ingests it or is injected with it and if it touches her skin it will burn her just as badly as a ray of sunshine would.

Backstory:

In 997AD, when Erika was only a few of years old, she and her father, along with the Mikaelsons, travelled to a settlement in the New World. Her earliest memories are of running around the large white oak tree in the village – it was bigger than any other tree she’d ever laid eyes on. As she slowly grew up, she became closer to the youngest Mikaelson sibling; Henrik. When one of the other boys in the settlement pushed her into the mud, he was the first to defend her and they were nearly inseparable after that.

After Henrik’s death she withdrew into herself, not wanting to speak to anyone or do anything aside from walking through the woods as they had done together. Not long after he was killed, the Mikaelsons enlisted Ayana’s help in creating a faster and stronger being that would not need to be afraid of the werewolves. After the Mikaelsons had transitioned and were given the ability to walk in the sunlight, Erika’s father took some clothes and provisions and tied them up into a bundle, gave them to his daughter and told her to run as far into the forest as she could with the moon on her right shoulder. He told her that she would find another village, with people that would protect her if she told them her name.

Reluctantly, she did as he asked and waited for him to join her for days, until the leader of the new settlement decided that they were no longer safe, with the wolves coming every full moon and vampires that now had the ability to walk in the sun, they needed to get away. Rowan Sigvaldson was not heard from again.

After travelling for many weeks, they arrived on the shores of Norway, the country that she had been born in. Thankfully the family that had taken care of her in America had decided to take her in as their own. And as she blossomed into a stunning young woman she trained with the other shieldmaidens until she was just as good as their fiercest fighter. At twenty-two years old she was caught stealing leather armour from the tanners of the town, with the notion that she would use it when the other warriors went raiding. Instead, she was tied to two whipping posts and received a lashing for each bronze coin it would have cost to buy the armour outright – ten lashings in total. After the punishment, she was held there in the square for ten days as penance for the life she had taken when Erika had stabbed the man who owned the tannery in the groin with a thin dagger. But they did not break her and nor would they, no matter how many times she was ridiculed.

When she was finally untied, she fell to the ground and stayed there for hours; her body weak from starvation and exhausted from having to stand there for days on end. When she finally willed herself to move, she stumbled to the small home she had and had her closest friend rub a salve into the wounds on her back and then helped Erika bind them with cloth.

The next year, when the Vikings went raiding again, she bought a set of armour with what coin she had left from selling herbs and joined them on their journey. She was well known for her vicious brutality on the battlefield and her strength in a shield wall. From then on she was always taken with them, and continued to go wherever they went.

The years slowly went by, and when she reached the age of 28 a new threat had arrived nearby. Known only for it’s beautiful face and it’s curious habit of draining it’s victims of blood. People made offerings to the Gods, to help them overcome this new fear, but it had very little effect. More and more of them started to go missing; husbands, wives, brothers, daughters… Even the children. Erika had decided that she would not be afraid of this new creature, and she braved the dark to find it. When the face that revealed itself to be the monster, she saw him plainly and she knew him well. It was Kol. One of the Mikaelson brothers. She backed away slowly with her sword in hand, and her emerald eyes almost aflame as she watched him cautiously.

In the end, it didn’t matter how skilled she was with a sword. It didn’t matter how fast she was or how much courage she had. And the last thing she saw was a pair of fangs sliding out from his gums… And then she was surrounded by a black nothingness.

When she awoke the following morning, the sunlight felt like it was burning into Erika’s eyes and her skin, that was somehow even more pale than before, felt like she had sunburn all over her body. As the day went on, her stomach growled and felt as though she hadn’t eaten in weeks and her mouth and gums began to ache. Eventually - as she began to get too tired to fight it, she attacked a woman that had a grievous head wound and was bleeding. As she stood over the woman, who was then crouched down and whimpering, her eyes strayed to the graze on her head… And then she knew. Kol had fed her his blood and then killed her in cold blood. She knew enough about the vampires to know that she needed to feed soon, or she would just fade away.

Erika pulled out the dagger she kept down the inside of her boots and sliced through the flesh of the woman’s neck, grabbed onto her and then let the blood gush into her mouth. Instantly she felt the aches in her mouth stop, and the more blood she consumed the stronger she became and the hunger in her stomach died down. Once the lady was empty, Erika went to leave the hut but instantly flew back inside, the skin on her arms blistered from the exposure to the twilight sun. She looked around with a puzzled expression. The Mikaelsons had been able to walk in the sun, so why couldn’t she do it?

As soon as the sun had set, she dashed out of the hut and came upon the body she had drained to complete her transition and a man that had discovered it. Wrecked with guilt over the killing, she felt the blood rush to her eyes as they darkened. The man that was leaning over the corpse glanced up and yelled for help as he saw her. And in no time at all, she managed to find the mark of his carotid artery and bit into it with ease, satiating her hunger.

After her transition in 1022AD it took her nearly forty years to come across a witch that was willing to help her gain the ability to walk in the sunlight. After taking care of a few of the witch’s problems she was more than happy to enchant the lapis lazuli locket pendant she owned.

Over the last millennium Erika lead an extraordinary life, travelling all over the world and assisting in many wars. In the late 1800s, with money she had earned and saved, she bought a large house in London, with three floors, a courtyard and a grand garden. In this house, she has kept treasures and souvenirs from various time periods; including jewellery, gold coins and handwritten texts and rare prints of books. She spent the last few years back in Norway but has finally decided to return to her London home; the only place she ever felt truly safe in.

[neuro-whump]

Lost in Transit, Part 4

This is my entry to the Box Boy Extended Universe which was originally created by @sweetwhumpandhellacomf and written by @shameless-whumper and I’m using a lot of world-building which was done by @ashintheairlikesnow. Still somewhat vague on hospital procedure here.

CN: Dehumanization, human trafficking, amnesia, mistaken identity, box boy universe, vomiting, insomnia, nightmares, flashbacks, IVs

798591’s new owner had told him to obey the nurses, and the nurses had told him to sleep. So he tried to sleep. He really, really tried. It hadn’t been so bad when they were there with him, talking to him and giving him nice touches but now he was all alone in this white room and he could hear machine noises and someone else whimpering down the hall and it was making it very, very hard not to remember things he was supposed to forget.

“Position 30. Position 31. Position 32.”

“I don’t want to —“

“Position 32, 798591.”

He wasn’t supposed to remember training, he was only supposed to know it.

“Look at the page 798591.”

“It hurts, ow, ow it hurts please no more.”

The pain in his head had been starting to go away but every lapse and correction sent a spike of it through his skull just behind his eyes, and made the room spin a little bit. The hot cramping pain sitting in his stomach had got a little better once he’d been sick but it was getting worse again with all the spinning.

He lay there, and squeezed his eyes shut and tried to make himself obey his orders and fall asleep. He been afraid to be in the dark again after being left for so long in his box but now he thinks he would have preferred to have the lights off. It would be easier not to think about any of those forbidden memories without being able to see all these glaring white surfaces. He looked at the button Kenna had told him about and wondered if he pressed it, if someone would come and turn the light off. But he was afraid to cause any more trouble. He was not supposed to complain, or make trouble, or make a mess and he had already done all three of those things and his owner had left him here and not said when she would be back and Kenna said she was scary and he didn’t want to make her any more upset with him and find out.

She would be back in the morning. Joey had said she would be back in the morning. She was just leaving other people to deal with him while he was sick and disgusting and making a mess. He was where he should be, and he was grateful, and Dr. de Courcy was going to come back tomorrow. He tried to think about that, and not about the shine of the white walls or the soft sounds of pain he could hear from elsewhere or any of the other things he was not supposed to be thinking about.

Eventually, his stomach lurched and cramped in a way that sent pain radiating out through his belly, and the only thought in his head was that he was going to be sick again. It was almost an improvement.

He managed to make it across the room to be sick into the toilet instead of the bed, but it hurt, and then he just folded up on the floor in the bathroom and waited for the cramping to stop enough that he could stand up and get back into bed - or get worse until he was sick again. There was a new sharp twinge of pain in the crook of his elbow too, and a trickle of blood running down his arm when he looked at it. He’d pulled out the IV Joey had put into his arm by accident, and Kenna had told him specifically that he was supposed to call someone rather than let that happen.

“What’s it done this time? Christ what a mess.”

“Who the fuck is going to want this one, huh?”

The shooting pain of the reset was worse than the last ones had been, it left a trail of dark spots across his vision. The cold, hard floor was making it harder to avoid the thoughts he was not supposed to be having. There was more whimpering noises, he thought might be the one making them this time.

He was too miserable to realize someone else had come into the room until there was a strange man standing directly over him.  He cowered back a little without meaning to, even though there wasn’t really anywhere for him to go.

“What’s happened?” the strange man said softly, as he crouched down next to 798591, “did you fall?”

798591 shook his head and tried to pick himself back up.

“Easy there,” said the stranger. He was wearing a badge with letters on it, but 798591 couldn’t read them and he didn’t want to look at them to hard and risk another correction.

“I’m Aaron,” said the new person, seeing him looking, “I’m gonna sort you out, and then I need to draw a little more blood. Now what’s happened? Did you get sick?”

He nodded.

“That’s okay,” said Aaron, “Do you feel like you can go back to bed, or are you still too nauseous?”

798591 shook his head, his stomach was still hurting, but he didn’t feel as sick, and he wanted to be off the floor. He would probably be punished now for letting the IV come out, but at least it sounded like he would be allowed back in bed after. He couldn’t quite bring himself to admit it, but he held his arm out so the new person could see and get it over with.

“Lost your IV?” Aaron asked, “that’s never fun. Don’t worry, I can sort that out for you in a minute. Are you in pain anywhere else?”

798591 nodded.

“Where does it hurt?”

He pressed his fingers into his eye sockets before he could stop himself. He wasn’t supposed to complain, but he wasn’t supposed to lie and keep secrets and he was so tired.

“Headache huh,” Aaron said, “I’ll page the resident, see if they can get you something for it.”

Aaron stood back up for a minute, 798591 couldn’t see what he was doing, and he was afraid for a moment that he would leave again, but he knelt back down and got 798591 to sit up and rinse his mouth out, and then gave him a cup of water to take the stinging taste of the mouthwash out of his mouth.

“Alright,” said Aaron, “feel ready to stand back up? I can get a chair if you can’t.”

798591 clambered back up to his feet and let Aaron take him back to bed. It stung when Aaron drew more blood and put the IV back into a new part of his arm but only for a moment. And then a second person came in, a second man, with ruffled hair, looked at 798591 and then at Aaron and asked, “what’s the problem?”

798591 thought that maybe the new person would be responsible for punishing him, but instead, Aaron said, “he had some nausea, which he says is better now, and a headache, which is new, based on the chart. I was hoping you could help him out.”

The ruffled man looked at 798591 and then back at Aaron, and then picked up the clipboard that was hanging off the edge of the bed and read it and frowned.

“Is Dr. de Courcy still here?” he asked.

“Don’t think so,” said Aaron, “but I can try to page her if you like.”

The ruffled man shook his head vigorously, “no, no, I’ll just give him some acetaminophen and see how he does.”

He didn’t give 798591 anything though, he scribbled a bit on the clipboard, and rushed back out of the room. Aaron moved things around the room a bit and then went away and came back with two pills in a small paper cup, which he gave 798591 to swallow with another cup of water.

He nodded and looked pleased when 798591 swallowed them the first time, “hopefully those help with that headache,” he said, “and there’s more water here for you, and a basin in case your stomach plays up again, alright?” He asked, showing 798591 where everything was.

798591 nodded, too frightened to ask Aaron to turn the light off, and then Aaron walked away again and didn’t come back.

798591 still hadn’t been punished, and he was still awake when he was supposed to be sleeping.  Had that little stinging pain in his arm been it? Where they leaving it to Dr. de Courcy? She was his owner, and Kenna had said she was scary, and it would make sense. Maybe that’s why the ruffled man had wanted to get her. They’d let him come and lie down in bed at least. It was a lot more comfortable than —.

It was very comfortable.

His stomach wasn’t feeling as bad and he drank another cup of water, which felt nice on his throat, and curled up, and squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to be grateful instead of scared.

He tried to be grateful instead of scared until eventually he was too exhausted to be anything, and finally dropped off to have nightmares instead of worries.

@haro-whumps @whatwasmyprevioususername

[rkmiya]

★ DARAE AND MEIQI KTL CHOREOGRAPHY

novaentertainment

Published June 17, 2020

0:00-5:13

the video starts with darae and meiqi in one of the nova dance studios. the time on the clock reads 9:47 although there’s no distinction to tell if it’s morning or night. meiqi and darae are running through a section of the song which seems to go well but darae pauses, shaking her head. the caption “i messed up” comes on the screen. they run through it again.

this time, it seems that meiqi was a beat ahead darae and they both pause. darae turns to her, held tilted. the audio finally comes in as darae asks meiqi “wait what’s the count?” with a question mark animation appearing above her head and an exclamation point animation appearing up meiqi’s. meiqi calmly says, “i thought the tempo was five-and-six seven eight.” darae chuckles, covering her face. “i thought it was five six seven and eight!” a caption appears on the screen “dancers communicating with their own language....” as they continue to talk about counts, figuring out where they were out of sync.

with a shift in the scene, meiqi and darae are both standing in front of the mirror. to anyone else, it looks like they’re just waving their arms stiffly. to anyone familiar, they’d be able to recognise this style of dance called waacking. darae moves behind meiqi to guide her into the movements. she’s talking as she does although there is a gentle music over as they go over moves. darae claps her hands and motions for her to go. a caption appears saying, “meiqi begin!”

meiqi begins with a count right before the waacking in the choreography. when she brings her hands back, she brings it too far -- farther than we’ve seen darae guide her hand not a moment before. she smacks darae in the face. the audio of the room fades in on impact. you can clearly hear the smack and darae drops on the floor, laughing really hard. the scene replays twice more. once at regular speed and the second in slow-mo with a closeup of how darae recoils upon impact. as it returns to normal speed the second time, the screen is covered with “ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ” all over to match darae’s laughing on the floor.

meiqi doesn’t seem to notice, as she continues to dance for a moment longer before turning and yelling. she crouches down next to darae, yelling “i’m sorry i’m sorry!” but it’s clear that she’s laughing too. darae looks up at her, putting her hands on meiqi. although the younger is insisting, “slap me twice to make up for it.” darae laughs again, instead patting her butt twice before getting up. meiqi whines from the floor, “that’s not what i meant unnieeeeee!” a playful caption appears, saying “bad girl meiqi wants a punishment for her mistake ㅋㅋ”. darae shakes her head. the next scene comes.

meiqi and darae seem more serious as they dance. the audio of the dance isn’t heard but as they transition to another move, two big laughing emojis are slapped over their bodies, effectively censoring the move that they do. although judging by the girls intense and sultry expressions, anyone can put two and two together and come to the conclusion that the move was a little too sexy. the video speeds up 3x speed of the rest of the choreography bit they were practising. it only slows until after a manager comes up and speaks to them before leaving. the manager’s face is blurred.

“too sexy?” meiqi complained with a pout. darae pats her head. “it’s okay,” she says although she’s pouting too. “we’ll edit it.” the image of the two girls moving to edit their choreography fades to black. the black screen splits horizontally, the two halves sliding away to reveal meiqi and darae. they’re dressed in outfits complementary to each other like a true duo. meiqi is standing a bit closer to the camera than darae is, making her more of a center focus as the music finally plays and the girls being to dance.

their moves are in sync, clearly a product of hours of practise of the dance they created themselves. as the chorus starts, they switch places and now darae is in the foreground position while meiqi is a bit back. their expressions are intense. their moves are crisp. they switch their positions again as the song hits its bridge. meiqi gives a smirk to the camera and a quirk of the brow. darae’s smirk mirrored meiqi’s as they dance. they switch once more.

the song picks up as well as their moves. they finish the dance seated next to one another. darae with her head thrown back in the final position and meiqi with her hand in the air, looking directly at the camera. after two beats holding their position they break their dancer personas and cheer. darae claps “we did well!”

the video ends.