#i am quite literally 4 feet from you and within your line of sight how the FUCK do you miss me unless i have invisibility powers

[e-the-village-cryptid]

if I had a nickel for every time someone walked within 4 feet of me sitting incredibly obviously in plain view and did not notice me there until I made them aware of my presence at which point they were hugely startled I would have almost a dollar now which is pretty fucken weird guys what is going on

[sylverstorms]

Cassandra x Maiden ----Anonymity Ch.10

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9

The day shift gives you ample time and opportunities to walk around the castle. Within a week, you come to know every chamber and pathway you hadn’t previously crossed, intimately.

At first, you pictured making your escape through a weak point in its fortification. The walls are ancient; You would have bet money on one of its parts having given out in the passing of centuries and gone unnoticed. Now, you know such a thing doesn’t exist. It doesn’t really surprise you that Alcina has made sure the exterior is in the same excellent condition as the interior.

But it is a problem.

The walls are too big for you to scale. If there are any stepping points, you can’t see them from within. You tried over and over to at least peak out into the back yard, but the shrieks and growls of monsters had you immediately changing course.

You don’t know what those things are and you’re not eager to find out. According to the older maids, there are more of them deep in the dungeons. It is only a rumor, of course, since nobody has ventured down there and returned to tell the tale.

Which, taking the window bars into account… leaves only one way out.

The front door.

You are aware that Lady Dimitrescu and the daughters all have a key on them. You know from Cassandra those are the only copies. Nothing enters or leaves unless one of them allows it.

There is not a snowflake’s chance in hell you’re getting Alcina’s key. She will murder you on sight. Bela won’t do anything to disappoint her mother, so that rules her out, as well. Daniela is the one most likely to misplace it or be persuaded to give it to you, but the girl is as unpredictable as she is sly and you won’t risk your wellbeing for a distant chance.

That means…

Cassandra is the only way out, isn’t she…

-

-

You lay low and await an afternoon where the cold is downright bone-piercing. As warm as the castle is, with fireplaces burning everywhere, you can still feel the stinging kiss of the outside frost every time you so much as go near a window.

And it all comes full circle right back to the start; You in front of Cassandra’s bedroom door, trembling with anxiety like the very first time. It is oddly fitting, in a way, that the story of the two of you ends where it began.

For a moment, you almost marvel at how long ago it feels, now. But there is no time nor space in your heart for sentimentality anymore. You stand at the point of no return.

And you cross it as soon as you turn the handle.

Cassandra’s bedroom is softly illuminated by the dying embers of the fireplace. You walk forward cautiously, slowly, almost as if you’re expecting a landmine to go off at a single misstep. Except –well. A mine would be far more merciful. Just an explosion and then nothing. If Cassandra wakes…

You try not to think about it, lest your muscles lock in place.

Underneath the heavy covers of the bed, you see her, cocooned, pale fingers clutching tight at the blankets. It is too early for her to wake. She is deeply asleep, you tell yourself, simultaneously praying she doesn’t open her eyes.

You make it to her vanity, soundless. Her amber-jeweled choker and the necklace she and her sisters wear are neatly arranged, yet the key you’re looking for isn’t with them.

Shit. You inwardly curse, your hand shaking from the nerves. It means she’s put it in the drawer of her bedside table. It means you have to go next to her, to literally put your fingers in the sleeping wolf’s parted jaws and hope they don’t clamp down.

Easy, right?

An unsteady exhale later, you move further in and carefully kneel by the small furniture. Keep your eyes on the prize. Keep—

But you make the mistake of looking to the side.

Cassandra’s expression is not relaxed in sleep like how you remember it from the time when you would wake her up. Instead, her brow is furrowed, the line of her mouth pressed thin. She’s shivering, you realize, either from the cold or a nightmare or both. Shadows dance across her beautiful face.

Your first instinct is still to reach over and soothe her. You hate it, but you’ve accepted you won’t be over whatever it is you feel for her in quite some time.

It is not your place anymore to touch her, you remind yourself. You cannot ease her through her fears now that she has become your own.

With a clenched jaw, you force your body through the motions of opening the drawer and taking the key within.

At last. Your freedom is in your grasp.

And yet.

Shouldn’t you be happier about it?

Cassandra’s voice nearly knocks the air out of your lungs when it reaches your ears, faint. “No… please…”

You forget how to breathe for a couple of seconds. When your wide eyes shift to her, though, you realize she’s merely talking in her sleep.

Leave. Leave while you can.

But your chest constricts when you hear her sob. “…don’t leave me here… please…”

And out of all the possible things she could say, she utters those words and smashes your glass heart with a sledgehammer into a trillion pieces. The shards cut into you and it hurts—

You pause at the door. The corners of your vision have started to blur.

And then the world snaps, sharply, back into focus when her tone changes;

“…Alexia…?”

Your eyes lock, hazel to amber-grey, for a split second.

You run.

-

-

You don’t think you have ever ran this fast in your entire life. But it’s different now that it is about your life.

Adrenaline rushes throughout your bloodstream. You’re not thinking, just acting. Just fleeing.

Death, in the form of a black swarm, closes in on you with every rapid heartbeat. Cassandra is faster –she can fly and you’re only human—and at this rate you won’t even escape the corridor, much less the castle.

Flies break ahead of the rest and attach themselves to you. The sting of their bite at your nape and arms nearly has you howling in agony. She meant it when she said she would kill you herself. Not that you doubted it. Not for a second.

Because if Cassandra can’t have you, she will make sure nobody will.

You didn’t want to hurt her back the first time, but the stakes are too high now. You grab the nearest solid antiquity in your panic and throw it with all your might against the nearest window.

Glass shatters and the temperature plummets with it. Over your shoulder, you hear her scream. More out of rage than pain.

The flies biting at you drop to the floor, grey and paralyzed. You hear her shout pierce through your eardrums like a gunshot as you dash towards the turn—

“You won’t ever get to that door, Alexia!”

From the corner of your eye, you notice a blur coming towards you and instinctively drop down. A heavy thump later, your frantic eyes fly to the wall to see her sickle embedded halfway through a painting. If you hadn’t reacted in time, that would have been you.

Still, she can’t cross the hallway now, so you scramble to your feet and run while she takes the long way around. Question is, will you make it to the front door before she does?

It becomes a race where the winner takes all.

You practically jump down entire sets of stairs in your struggle for survival and you have no clue how you do it. You just know you can’t slow down for even a second.

The castle feels ten times as large as it actually is. By the time you descend the last staircase and the sound of buzzing insects grows in volume, the entrance is within sight.

You reach for another decoration and smash another window. Cassandra slows down, forced to materialize out of the swarm before she can’t will her body back together at all.

You shove the key into the lock and turn it.

Cassandra fights through the rush of frozen air, taking step after weighted step towards you—

“I won’t…let you leave here…alive.” she hisses, her teeth bared at you, skin growing too pale yet eyes blazing.

“I’m done being your prisoner.” you say back, voice hoarse and raw…

And you open the door. Steps taken backwards carry you away from her faster than she can make it to you. You can see her pain and her frustration, but they cannot compare to your own.

Your wounds ache from the frost.

Cassandra seems just about ready to leap at you even if it will certainly mean something very bad for her—

Until a black blur shoves her a dozen meters back. Bela’s back stands between you and Cassandra’s cracking form. Daniela soon lands off to the side, looking between the two of them.

“Get out of the way, Bela!” Cassandra snaps.

“It’s over.” Bela replies, a grave finality to her voice.

Your breaths are coming out in harsh puffs of smoke. You still have trouble believing that you did it. That they can’t follow anymore. You did it.

“Nothing’s over!” Cassandra snarls and lunges for her elder sister.

The blonde, deadly calm, grabs her by the neck in a choke-hold and drags her closer to the nearly-extinguished warmth of the fireplace. The way Cassandra thrashes in her arms is downright heartbreaking.

Daniela looks at you, almost saddened, then back at her sisters.

“Shh. Calm down, Cassandra. Let go. Mother will be here soon. Don’t let her see you like this.” Bela says. “If you’ve any parting words to say to Alexia, say them now.”

You’re shivering. The cold nips through every layer of clothes you’re wearing to bite straight at your flushed skin. But you don’t move further away. You wait. Why am I even waiting, though?

Realization slowly sinks in, you can tell from Cassandra’s expression. Beyond the wounded pride of the apex predator losing a fight to a rabbit… she understands that she will never see you again.

Bela releases her and steps away, adjacent to Daniela.

“You’ve earned your freedom, Alexia.” Bela speaks under her hood. “Nobody’s ever managed to escape, before. Respect.” In another life, maybe her and you could have been friends. Maybe.

“So you’re really… leaving?” Daniela’s lower lip is slightly jutted into a little pout. “I… who will I use to get on Cassandra’s nerves, now?”

“I’d say it’s been nice, but.” you speak up between pants, birthing forth puffs of smoke. “I was taken from my home and sent here as a slave, so.” You can’t help the bitter grimace.

Cassandra’s chest is heaving, yet she isn’t looking at you. It doesn’t look like she has anything to say to you, either. But you have words for her, because you need to get this out at last, you need to be free of this weight or you will never really have escaped this nightmare.

“Even as your captive, you know what I fucking thought? You three can be so beautiful when you toy with the idea of basic human empathy. I don’t know what you saw our time as, Cassandra, but I was genuinely attracted to you. I wanted to be together with you. At some point, I was even happy!”

You’ve inhaled so much icy air your lungs probably won’t be doing great for very much longer but God, this is so cathartic. And so enraging that she’s not meeting your eyes now, at the very end of it all.

“Look at me! I care for you, deeply, but I can’t do this anymore! I don’t want to live in a cage as a pretty sacrifice, with you as my jailer. I can’t. You don’t know how psychologically destructive it is. You don’t know what it feels like!” you end with a hitched shout.

You hear the ominous sound of heavy heels hurriedly descending the staircase. “By Miranda! What is going on— Cassandra?!”

All three daughters freeze up for a moment.

Then Daniela touches her head as though she’s having a migraine and Bela shuts her eyes tightly, shoulders tensed. And Cassandra… drops on her knees to the floor, gasping for oxygen, clutching at her temples.

Bela shakes her head to snap out of it. Daniela still looks dazed and afraid… but Cassandra is nearly crying—

And then, in her panic attack, she whispers; “Don’t abandon me like they did, Alexia.”

You don’t know who she means or what you’re doing, until you’ve dashed back inside and gathered her chilled form into your arms, tight. You keep her there like you wish someone had held you during your storms. It doesn’t matter that you’re so much weaker than Cassandra, when what haunts her is too powerful even for her to face.

Alcina extends her claws as she advances on you.

You could probably still get away if you make a run for it, but where will you even go, when your heart is right here with the woman in your arms? The world beyond the village died for you a long time ago. The village died in a literal sense.

You wanted to be free. But freedom and being with her aren’t mutually exclusive. Why did it take me this long to figure it out…?

Alcina is too close now. You turn to kiss Cassandra’s hair for what may be the last time. You do not let go.

Bela and Daniela step in front of you.

Alcina gives them a warning, narrowed look.

“Uh— you know what, I just stepped forward because I saw Bela move. Haha, nevermind.” The redhead retreats once more. Maybe you’d roll your eyes at her if you weren’t bracing for your execution.

“Bela… step aside.” Lady Dimitrescu’s tone leaves no room for disobedience.

The eldest daughter lowers her head and hesitantly opens the path, as well.

Alcina casts a deep shadow over you in her massive height and giant claws. You lock eyes with her briefly, with the last, flickering cinders of your courage. Then you shift your face down into Cassandra’s shoulder and prepare to be skewered through. Her fingers clutch you almost painfully close to her.

“As for you…” there’s a growl in Alcina’s voice that makes you cower in terror.

Except...

The horrible pain you expected takes a little too long to come.

“…you have backbone, little human, I will admit.” Is that… is that a smirk you hear in her tone? “And my daughters do seem to want you around…”

…What?

Cassandra slowly pulls away from you to look up at her in disbelief and you dare to open your eyes. The claws are still uncomfortably close to your face.

“I will take responsibility for the damage, mother. Just, please, let her stay with me.” Cassandra says.

“…Hm. Very well. I expect the windows repaired by dinner.” Alcina gracefully pivots and just like that, takes her leave.

You and the sisters are left there, unbreathing, unmoving, wondering what just happened.

“Too cold. See you at dinner.” Daniela is the first to speak up. She rapidly waves and disappears like she’s being hunted by an army.

Bela glances at you, then at her middle sister. “We need to talk. But later. For now, defrost.” She, too, disperses in a swarm of flies.

Cassandra, uncharacteristically vulnerable, looks into your eyes and brings a crystalline hand to your cheek. The soft way she does it, it may as well be the apology she is too proud to voice. You both lean towards each other, resting your foreheads together.

You have a lot to talk about. But there is time.

[nincompoopydoo]

PAIRING, BAGELS, REPEAT

— US AGAINST THE WORLD ; PART 4 / ?

( credits to @animusrox for this gif )

PAIRING: Bruce Wayne x reader

WORD COUNT: 2247 hot diggy dog

SUMMARY: You have a heart-to-heart conversation with one of your students before the play and you're hit with the realization that your love for Bruce may be more than meets the eye. hence, you’re starting to wonder if it was a mistake you can never fix.

A/N: This one’s long and kinda depressing. I’m in an angsty mood now whoops. Nevertheless, thank you for reading this series, the bagels will make its appearance and enjoy this one folks.

WARNINGS: Anxiety, depressing thoughts.

MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

The night of the show arrived quicker than you anticipated. The flurry of theatre kids rushing about backstage is quite the sight, feeling the incredible sense of pride of a mother for her children. Yet in prayer, you ask Mrs. Wilson for the gift of strength and ability to manage a bunch of highly-strung teenagers. It’s only Shakespeare after all but you knew that wasn’t the genuine nature behind their stage jitters. With all tickets sold out within a week, it has easily become the biggest event of the year aside from homecoming. It may be a little pretentious for a high school production of an over-performed Shakspeare play to emerge as the highlight of the year, but you know it will help with some of the students’ portfolios for acting school.

The clock ticks—thirty minutes before showtime and panic starts to creep.

Your fingertips dance along the selvage of the extensive drapery of the stage as lighting queues are being run through for the last time. The urge of curiosity lets you crack open the curtain as you peeked at the rest of the theatre. The bustling crowd made up of mostly teenagers with seats rapidly being filled, it’s certainly a sight for sore eyes. Amongst the settling audience, you spot Bruce, seated between Mr. Walken, the principal, and Mr. Huckleberry, the vice-principal, likely being shamelessly asked for donations. He looks engaged, but his posture and the gaze of his eyes tell a very different story—Bruce is barely listening to a word they’re saying.

He then turns in the direction of your hiding spot and despite the distance, he catches your eye, immediately recognizing it’s you spying from behind the curtains. You watch the curve of his lips turn up into more of a smirk, swiftly sending a wink your way. You instantly disappear behind the curtains, cheeks burning.

You sometimes find it hard to believe you’re sleeping with the man with no strings attached because you’re incredibly attracted to him.

Someday, you’ll burst out into an exaggerated love confession, and you know it’s going to be ugly. It’s a reality check and right now, it’s the last thing you want. Running away from your problems is more of a habit than a choice as you would rather live in the world your mind has created, where miracles are made and defects cease to exist. Anyone would trade the cruelties of reality for a perfect one yet getting too caught up in a daydream will eventually evolve into toxicity. Bruce orbits the very core of your problems and daydreams. You want to run away from him and allow yourself to be engulfed by his presence at the same time.

You just need...to breathe. Hence, the second dressing room has a weird stench to it. It’s a mess but it’s empty. Yet, it seems you aren’t the only one in need of space, away from everyone else. Shaniqua is seated at the far corner of the room on a crooked metal chair, dressed in a somewhat modernized version of an Elizabethan era dress. Very elaborate and theatrical. Despite her introverted character, she was constantly bright-eyed and keen during your classes. She had a drive like no other. Hell, she miraculously memorized all her lines in two days.

You’ve never seen a furrow of the girl’s brows, until now, and it worries you. Even her glitter-covered eyes could not conceal the dismay they portray with prominence. Gingerly, you made your way to her as she stared at her fidgeting hands. It was only when you settled on the opposite dusty old chair when she finally noticed your presence.

“Stage fright, huh?” you casually asked, resting your arm on the dressing table. She mirrors your posture, heaving a deep sigh, and shakes her head. “No, it’s just,” A pause, her gaze finds yours. You nod, flashing her a smile. It’s a simple gesture that you’re here to listen. “It’s about Oscar...” You catch a hint of a smile as she trailed off and in an instant, your brow raises with curiosity. Oh? Another beat of silence, her eyes dart around the room. You sit quietly with patience because you knew she had more to say.

“It’s just that doing this play has got me thinking a lot about my feelings. I mean, if Romeo and Juliet could be lovers, despite their feuding families, then it must be easy enough for me to admit that I like Oscar.”

“You have a point.” You chuckle, eyes crinkling with amusement. Sometimes she thinks too much for her own good. She reminds you of Bruce. Shaniqua flashes you a faint smile, lips pressed with doubt. “But why am I finding it so hard to just tell him that?”

You stayed silent for a moment or two, mind deep in thought. The chair creaks as you shift in your seat. “Well, could it be that you aren’t sure if he likes you back?”

A hum in response, shrugging coyly as she mumbled a ‘maybe’. Although it was clear as day to you that Oscar liked her back, you wondered if her doubts emerged due to their differences in character. The familiarity of the situation is beginning to feel a lot like deja vu.

“How do you know that someone is the one?” Her sudden question catches you off guard because, in all honesty, you aren’t confident if you knew the answer. A straightforward question, commonly seen in the pages of teenage magazines, written for innocent eyes. You knew its true nature and it terrifies you. The image of Bruce charges through your thoughts like rushing water, memories of times when the two of you were younger clouding your mind. You forcefully push back your university days, buried back deep into your conscience.

“I don’t exactly know the answer to that but in my opinion, it’s—it’s the feeling of completeness when you love them and know they love you. They may be different from you, but it doesn’t make you love them any less. There’s no conflict or strife; it’s just the two of you against the world.”

Those words were raw and genuine, carefully crafted directly from the heart. You weren’t surprised by your words because you’ve thought about it a lot, especially on nights you slept on Bruce’s bed. Maybe, you do love him, and that's a huge ass problem. It’s amazing how unexpected situations tend to encourage apprehension on large issues you never knew existed in the first place. Perhaps it was your astonishing lack of discernment when it came to matters that could potentially alter your life.

Tonight, a sixteen-year-old girl did just that.

Amid your growing anxiety, you manage to catch sight of the wall clock, hung on the other side of the room. It’s now eight minutes until showtime. Your eyes are now wide as you sprung up from your seat in the sudden realization that everyone should be at their respective positions two minutes ago. “Oh God, we’re running late. Shaniqua, word of advice—don’t end up regretting something you didn’t do,” You shoot her a pointed look, index finger stretching towards her. “Now, you really need to go, or we’ll have to delay and you know Mr. Walken hates waiting.”

-

It’s a quarter to nine, and the theatre is empty. Outside, the foyer and the hallways are buzzing with the remaining audience, lingering and sharing inane conversations as others wait for a car to take them home. You had only just finished rearranging the costumes in the wardrobe of the dressing room. You tried to sweep the scatter of glitter all over the floor but it deemed a task as impossible; you’ll deal with it next week.

You’re sitting in the seat at the front row, nearest to the aisle with a large box filled with props on your lap. Alone in transcendental silence, feeling as empty as the theatre itself. It was partly the conversation you had with Shaniqua that hit you with the reminder of all the mistakes you made that have led you to this unchanging world of a blur that takes the blame for the wretched feeling in your chest. Yet, as the show progressed, hearing the words of affection from two lovers had sent your mind reeling. You were desperate to head home, crawl into bed and potentially cry yourself to sleep but the growing anxiety forbids it, you don’t even think you could drive home.

So, you stillness of the theatre reminds you of Edward Hopper’s painting, Solitary Figure in a Theater. With eyes shut, you pretend you are the figure in the painting, sheathed in black, sitting alone in the cavernous dark.

You hear the door of the theatre squeak, swinging open followed by the shuffling of feet. You don’t look at first, too tired anyway. You’d assume someone had either forgotten something or it was the janitor that you’re sure is going to be upset over the glitter massacre in the dressing room. It looked like a crime scene, except it was the murder of a literal unicorn. You made a mental note to send an apology sandwich of some sorts next week.

It was the familiarity in the whiff of cologne that made you snap your eyes wide open, looking over your shoulder to meet with the sight of Bruce, ambling down the aisle towards you. He smiles, and you mirror him, shifting in your seat and nearly toppling the box to the ground. “What are you still doing here?” He smiles, and you mirror him, shifting in your seat and nearly toppling the box to the ground. “I could ask you the same question.” He settles in the seat next to you, elbow brushing against yours. Your head tilts, gesturing to the box. Bruce merely hums and nods thoughtfully.

“So, how was the play? Does it get a Wayne seal of approval?” There’s a hint of teasing in the curve of your lips as his eyes drift to the stage. “I liked it. The kids have talent.” Your eyes glint with amusement, your smile growing wider. “I never knew you were a fan of romance.” His laugh comes out more like a huff of air, crinkled eyes meeting yours, and nudges you lightly. “Well, now you know.”

He recognizes the way your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes and the way you’re fussing with the edges of the box on your lap. Something is bothering you and he knows it. He nudges you once more. “Penny for your thoughts?”

You blink once. Then twice, face wincing instinctively. You keep forgetting how well Bruce can read people, especially you. You exhale slowly as he watches you struggle to pick the right words.

“It’s really nothing. It’s just-” you say after a long minute, cutting yourself short. Then, you turn to Bruce. “I’m growing older, and I’ve spent my entire life in a fog with so much fear for reality, I’m afraid it’s too late to fix all my mistakes and regrets.” Your voice dwindles with every word that escaped your lips. You were young, naïve with the notion that time was extensive to make decisions without thinking it through. To know that you could never take back the things you did. Saturn’s rising, it’s a wake-up call now that you’re older and the fear that you would never change creeps onto you with every passing birthday.

Bruce defines the epitome of the sinking feeling in your chest whenever you lay in bed at night and let your mind reel about your existence. Yet, it isn’t as simple as you want it to be. The boy you met at university has grown into a far more complex and entangled mess of the grief of his parents, the responsibility he held over this city and the drive to just...keep moving on. For the longest time, it was him against the world, and a part of you wants to believe that it doesn’t have to be that way. That maybe, you could be enough for him.

He glanced away from you, trying to hide the despondency in his eyes. He holds back a sigh as he speaks, “Do you regret us doing this?” As vague as his question is, you know what he exactly means. He remembers the time the two of you used to exchange senseless conversations and laughter so vividly that it scares him. Juvenile friends, lacking the knowledge to know what love really was. Hence, the agreement—it was just two friends, messing around. Nothing could go wrong. Now, the hole has been dug in too deep, with no way of getting out.

“I don’t,” you reply and with just two simple words, his chest feels like fire. It was the way you had said it, with so much confidence and assurance, despite the intricacy of this relationship. For the first time in a long time, you were extremely sure about an answer. You could never regret Bruce. Never.

It’s almost hesitant in the way his hand finds yours, but it represents his care for you, even if you may not know it. The warmth of his hand feels like fire. Hell, your chest feels like it’s on fire, heart burning for the man beside you. “I’ll drive you home,” he whispers with a squeeze of your hand. You flash him a grateful smile as the two of you drift into a comfortable silence. Silence so eloquent that you don’t feel so empty anymore. No longer a solitary figure trapped in a painting but now two, hand in hand, against the world.

TAGLIST

@raineeace

[bffsoobin]

Iced Chai

↳ you had a small obsession with drinking iced chai lattes between class, and it just so happened that the coffee store on campus had the best ones. when a new barista replaces the one who used to make your drink, you put him to the test. he makes the most wonderful iced chai you’d ever had. he’s also one of the most handsome boys you ever seen on campus.

➤ fluff, college!au, shy barista!hueningkai

Word Count:3,830

A/N: yes, this fic is very much influenced by my massive love for iced chai lattes and the way I consumed them up until March when we had to leave campus. Sadly I didn’t have any cute boys serving me :(. Anywho, I hope you enjoy it! Please keep in mind that I haven’t proofread, so there may be some small mistakes!

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•

Calculus was a pain in the ass. Obviously, you knew this well before you scheduled for your freshmen year of college, but there was no way to avoid the reality handed to you by your major. So every Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning at 8 am you endured the rambling lectures of your less than spry professor who could barely work his desktop computer. You tried your best to pay attention, you really did, but there was only so much you could do when the conversation shifted from tangent lines to the best way to reheat fast food french fries.

As you doodled in the margins of your lined notebook, your mind wandered to the only good thing sitting through this class does for you. Other than the credits. As soon as the clock struck 9am, you had a date with the on campus café. The roughly hour break between the end of calculus and the beginning of chemistry gave you the perfect window to enjoy some alone time. Homey, student run and always playing some version of a coffee shop playlist; the place was your haven on campus. Not only did you love the atmosphere and the fact that it was the best place on campus to study, but they also serve the best iced chai latte you’d ever encountered. The thought of the drink alone made your mouth salivate. From your first hesitant order, you had become hooked. Within your first week on campus, you had easily drank 10 cups of the chilled goodness before your roommate expressed concern for the sheer amount of sugar and dairy you’d been consuming. 

Due to the timing of your tri-weekly trips, you had always been served by the same lovely barista, Rachael. She was stylish, down to earth and always told you a good joke when you showed up looking especially out of it. Most importantly, something about the way she mixed the drink convinced you that she surely was sent from the heavens.

When your graying professor finally let your class go for the day, you walked on clouds to your favorite spot on campus. It had rained during class so the air was chilled and the ground was still damp. The telltale scent of rain invaded your senses and a chill ran through you. Most people would be craving a hot coffee or steaming cup of tea- but all you desired was the smooth flavor of your favorite drink. The walk to your beloved café wasn’t long, but you always found yourself in a bit of a rush to get there as soon as you possibly could. In a moment of carelessness, you stepped right into a rather large puddle and soaked one of your feet right through your shoes and your sock. Disgusting you thought as you finally arrived at the door. The handle was slick with moisture thanks to the weather, but you wiped your hand onto your sweatshirt as you stepped inside and let the familiar scent of coffee grounds occupy your mind. Your shoulders relaxed simply at the relaxed atmosphere.

A few students who also frequented around this time were sitting at their usual tables, and you waved at them politely before taking yourself- and your squelching shoe- over to the small booth you’d come to know and love. You ditched your bookbag on the table with a thud, feeling secure with the knowledge of your agreement with the girl who sat at the table next to you to keep an eye on your things. 

As you headed toward the counter, you belatedly noticed that the line seemed a bit more backed up than usual. It wasn’t too big of a concern, as your college was relatively small and waiting an extra five minutes would by no means ruin your timing. It was just curious. Usually Rachael ran the counter with the ease of an experienced sailor, but that ease seemed to be missing today. Nevertheless, the line inched forward steadily. Engrossed in your phone, you hadn’t noticed the glaring difference in your routine until you got to the cash register. While placing your plastic ID card over the scanner, you chirped “just my usual, Rachael!” 

Despite what your mind told you would happen next- she would laugh, say okay, maybe ask about class while handing over a receipt- you were met with an awkward stutter that your trusty barista certainly didn’t make. 

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t know your usual,” upon finally looking up, your brain processed the sight of a new boy. A new gorgeous boy. Did they only hire beautiful people here? His black hair was falling into his eyes, charmingly shaggy and exposing just enough of his forehead to make you oddly wish you could see more. His cheeks were dusted in a light pink blush that both charmed you and made you feel bad at the same time. He seemed so fresh. Upon further inspection, you caught his handmade name tag written in slightly shaky handwriting that was so cutely boyish. Hueningkai. He had decorated one corner with a smiley face and the other with a drawing of a coffee bean that looked suspiciously like nothing more than a dark brown blob with a small accent line down the middle. 

“I’m sorry, Hueningkai,” you didn’t miss the way his eyes widened slightly at the use of his name, “usually Rachael is here to take my order. But I’ll take a large iced chai latte, please.” He nodded quickly, reverting his eyes to the LED screen which his eyes bounced around for a few seconds before he finally found the correct button. This must have been why the line seemed abnormally long. As the sound of your receipt printing filled the silence, you asked; “first day?” 

A melodious laugh fell from his lips, causing a scrunch of his perfectly pointed nose that you felt honored to have seen as he stepped away from the register to start making your drink. “That obvious, huh?” Another worker came to take his spot and serve the next student but you followed Hueningkai to his new destination. For as shy as he was at the cash register, he moved with much more confidence when it came to actually making drinks. His earlier hesitation was totally gone as he got to work mixing up your drink. In his new position, you could get a better look at his hands, adorned in simple silver jewelry that embarrassingly made your breath catch in your throat. His actions were over almost as quickly as they began, and his earlier hesitation seemed to return as he slid the drink to you over the granite counter top. You grasped at it eagerly in the same moment he reached to balance a straw on top of the lid. 

For a brief moment your fingers lingered and your mind went wild at the absurdity that you honestly felt sparks pass between the two of you. 

“Oh, uh, sorry,” he mumbled, dipping his head down awkwardly as he finally tore his hand away. You smiled back earnestly, hoping to make him understand that you weren’t bothered at all by the contact. 

Back at the safety of your table, you took a second to collect yourself. Surely you were overreacting to the small interaction. After all, you were already having a pretty weird day. Looking down at your clear cup, you remembered the beginning of your dilemma- the absence of amazing barista Rachael. Hueningkai was adorable, but could his skills hold up to the woman who made drinks you literally dreamed about? Tentatively, you took a sip of the drink and immediately cocked your head to the side. On the off chance your taste buds had totally deceived you, you took another long swig from the cup. 

Hueningkai’s drink was even better than Rachael’s.

——

The next morning, you awoke before your alarm even started to beep. Thursdays meant no class until 1 o’clock, so you had almost all the time in the world to catch up on assignments and homework and do your errands. Instead of doing anything constructive, you found yourself craving yet another iced chai latte. As you voiced this desire to your roommate, she looked at you as if you’d just admitted to the murder of 4 people.

“Are you insane? Do you not remember how miserable you felt after drinking two a day? I can’t let you do that again. You can go to the café but at least drink something different!” You knew that she was right, but something inside of you- that shitty little perpetual teenage boy who hides in a corner of your mind- told you to do the exact opposite of what she said.

“I’m sorry,” you shuffled through the shirts hanging in your closet, the sound of the plastic hangers clicking together resonating in the otherwise quiet room. “But you have to go to class so there’s no way you can police me. Plus,” you pulled a shirt out of your closet and slid over to your cheap full length mirror to inspect yourself. “You didn’t see Hueningkai. He is...” your cheeks flushed as your roommate began to let out a high pitched squeal. “Shhh! The walls are thin!”

“Oh don’t act so scandalized. I guess it makes sense that you’d have a crush on the boy who feeds your addiction.” You rolled your eyes at her, lobbing a pair of rolled up socks in her direction in retaliation. They hit her side softly before bouncing to the floor dejectedly. “You,” she pointed a finger your way as you rooted through your drawer for a pair of jeans, “are ridiculous. Have fun with your dreamy boy while I’m at class.”

Despite the familiarity of the path to the café, you still felt a bit out of place making the trip on a Thursday. Even the other students passing you by felt wrong in a way you couldn’t quite place. There was also the lingering worry that Hueningkai wasn’t even working today, and you’d show up to the small building just for a dose of disappointment. In you worried haze, you had barely noticed you arrived until the door was pushed open from the inside and a small pack of students held the door aside for you.

Inside of the building, a blanket of warm air surrounded your form and the faint smell of cinnamon drifted easily through the air. You were instantly calmed by the scent until someone bumped into your shoulder. With wide eyes, you looked around to see about double the amount of people your usual visits yielded. You were in no way prepared for the absolute mass of bodies that filtered between the tables and comfortable sitting areas. 

Feeling a bit lost, you put yourself into the line of waiting students and tried your best to peer over heads and around bodies to see if you could catch a glimpse of the barista that had captivated you so easily. It didn’t look like he was making drinks, but you held out hope that he was manning the register that was blocked from your sight. After what felt like forever, you reached the register and came face to face with...not Hueningkai. Despite your disappointment, there was no way you would turn down a drink, even made by a non-Hueningkai. 

Once you had the chilled cup cradled in your hands, you took a hopeless look around at the full dining room. Almost every table looked to be occupied, and some students had even resorted to leaning against the walls to chat and sip their drinks. The back of your neck began to heat up as you wandered around hoping for anyone to decide they were done and get up to leave. You had almost given up and decided to just go back to your dorm and lick your metaphorical wounds when a voice called your name. It only took a second of looking around to lock eyes with the one who was calling for you. 

Hueningkai. He had a light blush filling his cheeks as he waved a hand noncommittally your way. He looked ethereal sitting at the table, hot cup of something steaming next to his sticker covered laptop. His eyes were wide and adorably eager; akin to the look of a puppy who had just seen their owner after a long day. Your feet were working before your brain, so when you arrived to the table you had to scramble for an opener. 

“Hey! I was looking for you!” you winced. Way to go, Y/N. Out yourself on the second meeting. “I mean, uh,” you felt the cup in your hand start to slip with the sweat your palms produced, “I was hoping you’d make my drink again.” 

A smile spread like wildfire on Hueningkai’s face and his eyes crinkled adorably in the corners.

“You liked it that much?” His voice was meek, oddly shy for the way he beamed up at you with so much ease. 

“Yeah! It was really good. Even better than Rachael’s, to be honest.”

“Really? She was the best barista here!” He brought a hand up to his mouth in shock. 

“Yeah, really! Anyway, I can get going if you...you look busy,” you gestured toward his open laptop and drink that you were sure was rapidly cooling the longer you distracted him. 

“No!” he blurted the word before visibly flinching at his actions. At least it wasn’t just you feeling like a fumbling idiot. “I called you over cause it looked like you needed a seat? And if you want to sit with me, you can. I’m just working on a presentation and you won’t distract me, I promise.” There was no way you could deny the eagerness lacing his voice, so you pulled the chair opposite him across the floor and settled in. 

----

“That sounds like a date. A hangout at the very least,” your roommate asserted as she typed some code into her computer. 

“It was not a date!�� You whined, glaring up at your ceiling from your spot on your twin XL. “He just saw me looking for a place to sit and offered.” She scoffed. 

“Yeah, and then he proceeded to ignore his homework to talk to you. And then he asked if you were coming back to the cafe tomorrow. And then he-” 

“Okay, I get it! But what am I supposed to do? Ask him out?” A bubble of nerves was resting heavily in your stomach at the thought. As much as you liked him, who were you to think that he wasn’t just being kind? When you voiced this concern to your roommate, she tossed her computer to the side and strode over to your bed to not-so-gently pull you out of it. Without an idea of what she was doing, you stood dumbly until she put on her slippers and drug you out of your room. 

“What are you doing? I didn’t even put my slippers on!” Your sock covered feet slid across the tile of the hallway as your roommate finally hauled you into the common room of your floor, where a few small groups had gathered to do various activities. 

“Hi everyone! My lovely roommate Y/N and I have a question for you. Do any of you know Hueningkai? He works at the cafe, really tall, music major?” A few people nodded in confusion, surely wondering why the hell one of the polite tenants of room 112 was conducting some kind of survey in the lounge. 

“Great. Has he ever shown interest in any of you? Asked you to sit with him in the cafe? Spent about an hour inquiring about your life instead of quietly working? Gave you his number?” Everyone who had previously nodded stood still, not moving an inch as they whispered between each other. “Okay, that’s all!” Your roommate left with no further elaboration as you called out a weak apology to everyone. Back in the safety of your room, you stared at her, scandalized. 

“What was that?” 

“That, my dear Y/N, was proof. He likes you!”

----

A nervousness you hadn’t felt since move in day was crawling through your body the closer the clock ticked to 9 am. Theoretically, you could just skip going to get a drink today, and therefore avoid the source of your nerves; but you knew that Hueningkai was expecting you to show. He had even sent you an eager text this morning with a series of heart wrenchingly adorable emojis. There was no way you could avoid him after that. 

Late fall weather had surely settled in today and you felt the chill settle into your bones as soon as you stepped out of the math building. For a few seconds, you stopped to watch a rough breeze rustle browning leaves across the concrete paths of campus before simply digging your hands further into your pockets. You had to power your way through this. Worse case scenario, he says no and you can never show your face on campus again. Simple. 

The door felt especially heavy under your hands as you hauled it open. The much more familiar, sparsely populated shop greeted you but only ratcheted up your nerves. With less people milling around, there was no way to delay your conversation with Hueningkai. As soon as you began to approach the counter, you could see him stumble over to the register before the other working student could even attempt to. He tried to casually lean his elbow onto the half wall to his left, but he miscalculated and ended up shyly tucking his hands into the front pocket of his apron. 

“Hi,” you swallowed the lump in your throat and hoped that he hadn’t notice the shake in your voice. The familiar beep of the card reader interrupted your worries momentarily as you heard the boy in front of you exhale a greeting. 

“Your usual?” He inquired as if he hadn’t already seen you with the drink two days in a row. Not trusting your voice, you simply nodded and waited for him to punch the order into the screen. His hand hesitated as he glanced up at you again. “You’re the only person I know still ordering cold drinks in this weather,” a teasing smile had blossomed on his pink lips and your heart jumped at the sight. 

“Well, I guess I’m just a bit stuck in my ways,” you followed him, as always, to the other side of the counter where orders were placed when finished. 

“I like that,” he commented as he grabbed a cup, “it makes my job a whole lot easier,” your eyes locked onto his hands out of instinct. Yesterday you had noticed the addition of a thin silver chain around his wrist, and you would be lying if you hadn’t spent a few minutes admiring the delicate chain contrasted against the strength of his hands. A pour of ice pulled you out of your thoughts, and you caught the back half of a question from him. 

“What’d you say?” You felt as if lava was bubbling right under the surface of your skin as you reeled in embarrassment. You couldn’t believe that you’d let yourself miss a chunk of conversation for something so stupid. 

“Oh,” he seemed equally embarrassed that you hadn’t heard him, and it hurt your heart a little to see the way his eyes shook. “I just wanted to know if you had a good night yesterday. I mean because you-you told me when we hung out that you had a lot of reading to do, and I wasn’t sure if you got it all done. Sometimes I get so overwhelmed with readings that I don’t do any of them, and Taehyun yells at me for that but I just can’t seem to stop doing it.” He was rambling, and you both knew it, but you let him continue as he shyly looked away in order to pour your drink over the ice. 

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I had an okay night. My roommate was a bit much, but I love her, so it was okay.” His eyebrow quirked softly at the mention of your roommate, but he seemed afraid to broach the subject just yet. He gave your drink a good swirl after sealing on the lid and slid it over the smooth counter to your waiting hand. Unlike the first time you had met, you had already grabbed a straw from the small display and plunged it into the drink. 

Although you should have walked away, something kept you rooted to the spot, Hueningkai seemed to be under the same kind of spell as he looked over his shoulder to see that no one else had lined up to be served quite yet. 

“Hey, I was wonderi-”

“This might be weird-”

Your sentences clashed in the air as you spoke at the exact same time. Your mouth hung open like a fish out of water and Hueningkai waved his hands around wildly in your direction. “Go ahead!” He enthused, looking as if he was going to melt into the floor as a side effect of interrupting you. 

“No, I mean, you can say your thing first, if you- if you want,” you offered weakly. 

“No, it’s okay, you definitely spoke first. G-go ahead,” he nodded rapidly in order to convince you further. You raised your eyebrows in a silent question of ‘are you sure?’, to which he nodded again. 

“Okay, I was wondering if you’d like to, uhm, go out sometime? On a date?” The words felt like weights rolling off of your tongue. Hueningkai blinked once, twice, a third time before he broke into a peal of laughter. A sudden wash of panic, as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over your head, filled your senses. This was it. You would have to transfer schools and change your hair color to get rid of this incident. Goodbye, life you had come to know and love. 

Hueningkai must have recognized your panic as he took a harsh breath and surged forward to reach for your arm. 

“Wait! I wasn’t laughing at you! It’s just that I was, um, also going to ask you out.” This time, a laugh bubbled up in your throat at the confession. 

“You’re right. That is pretty hilarious.” You admitted, feeling the tension around you totally dissipate. 

“Well, I think this bodes well for us. We’ve only known each other for a few days and we already have telepathy. My roommate will be so jealous. He’s been trying to meld our minds for weeks.” His personality was beginning to peak through when he spoke about his friends, you noticed. It was charming. He was charming. Not to mention, he still made the best damn iced chai latte you’d ever had. 

[smylealong]

Opening Lines

Thanks for the tag, @avauntus. This looks very interesting. OPENING LINES: List the first lines of your last 8 stories (if you have less than 8, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 authors!

1. Birth of the Yiling Patriarch:

Falling.

I'm falling.

Help me!

Someone.

Anyone.

HELP.

What? What? What are these? Black hands? Cold. So cold.

No, no, don't touch me.

NO!

2. Bells of Andal:

Nam Seon-ho was having a perfectly boring day poring over the details of rice production for the month when his surly retainer burst into the office looking surlier than ever. He cut through the rows of desks, unbothered by the dirty looks thrown his way. Reaching Seon-ho, the man threw an envelope on his desk – an official order from King Gongyang.

"Sometimes I wish I could go back in time," Sung rok said, flopping down in front of him. “Just to tell my past self to fuck right off that burning hut."

"What crawled up your behind today?” Seon Ho said, breaking the wax seal.

"Ghosts." Came the short reply.

Seon-ho stilled, nonplussed. "Eh?"

"You heard me."

From anyone else, Seon-ho would have assumed they were joking, but the only jokes Sung-rok seemed to recognize were related to bowel movements. This was way out of his brand of humor. He raised a skeptical brow, "Ghosts?"

"Ghosts."

3. You Saved Me:

Anger, fear, and worry gnawed at Dong-chul’s chest, making him cast one final glance at the near-catatonic figure of his father sitting in the tiny, filthy, stinky, and overcrowded room.

Man-hee patted his back, nodded, and said, “We got this. You go.”

“Yeah, you guys go save Sang-mi,” Jung-hoon added.

Sang-mi. The name twisted inside him like a serrated knife. The guilt of not stopping her from taking on a self-destructive step, her faith in him that he would come to save her, coupled with rage, the terror, and the anxiety of what would happen if he did not make it there in time, churned inside him, making him almost nauseated. Another emotion, one that he could not, would not, name wrenched his heart – the pain from it almost physical in its manifestation. He closed his eyes and took a moment to push down everything that threatened to burst through him. No. This was the most important fight of his life and his father’s presence had only raised the stakes higher. He could not afford to get cold feet. Not here. Not now. Sang-mi and his dad needed him, and he would not fail them just because he was getting anxious. He swallowed the bile in his mouth, bitter and burning. Just a glance at Sang-hwan and Dong-chul knew that his best friend too was battling the same nerves. Without a word exchanged, the two took off running.

4. Puppets of Fate:

Wen Ning looked at the drop that fell on his hand and suppressed a click of irritation. Rain. Why did it have to rain? He bundled his cloak more tightly and lowered his head against the howling wind. His boots squelched in the mud and he tried to ignore how, with each step, the rain poured harder and his mood grew darker, mirroring the sky.

5. An essay on Pterosaurs:

The Earth during the Mesozoic Era (250 to 65 million years ago) was quite different than what we know. Dinosaurs roamed every continent, marine reptiles terrorized the waters and tiny mammals skulked in the shadows. In the early days, birds had not yet evolved, neither had bats. The skies, however, were not a vacant scape. Bizarre winged creatures ruled the air, taking life to new heights, both literally and metaphorically. These were the Pterosaurs.

6. Monster?:

Brahman is the power that flows in the Universe.

Brahman is what makes the sun rise.

Brahman makes the world go round.

Brahman lives in our blood.

We are the Rakshasas.

- Rakta, Commander-in-Chief, R.A.F.F

7. Blackened Mirrors:

Slowly, as though caressing the skin of his lover, Zachary ran a finger along the iron railing.

Just a little more, he told himself. The idea was tantalizing in its simplicity. Climb up the mesh-like railing and topple over. That was all that was needed. The two-story drop would be enough to kill him. End his misery once and for all.

The sun had long since dipped out of sight, leaving behind faint trails of orange that were fast diminishing. Far beyond the wall, a whole different world was waking up. But hidden in the sanctuary of Castle Obrechen, Zachary Bertholdt’s day was coming to a close. He stood in the balcony, looking at the rise of the lesser moon, Cavli. Somewhere to his left he could hear the snatches of a folk song, probably sung by a boatman ferrying his ride across the lake Voan.

Despite himself, Zachary laughed. “Can’t do it, can you, coward?”

What was he holding on to, he wondered? At twenty-nine years of age, he was certain that he wanted to die. But, apparently, wanting to die and actively killing oneself were two completely different things. Why wasn’t he climbing the railing? What was stopping him? He had to wonder.

8. The Order:

The order came in on the seventh day of who-gives-a-fuck-anymore. In retrospect, it shouldn’t have surprised us, but it did. I do wonder why though? It wasn’t like this was the first time it had happened. But like the celebrated author whose name I can’t remember once said, “the ability of self-deception is humanity’s biggest fortitude, while being their greatest foible at the same time.”

We had, or at least I had and maybe I am projecting, but I don’t particularly care anymore if I am… so what was I saying again? Ah yes, we had, and yes, I am speaking collectively, convinced ourselves that it won’t happen to us. That we were somehow safe from it. The joke is on us. Haha. I’m laughing, don’t you see? That manic, hysterical laugh that I can’t seem to stop. My sides hurt, tears are streaming from my eyes, my cheeks hurt, and I’m struggling to catch my breath, but the laugh that is bubbling from within me just doesn’t seem to fucking stop! Someone help me! I should be crying, shouldn’t I? Why am I laughing? What the fuck is happening? I don’t know anymore. It’s all a mess.

________

There. I gave the opening lines of four fanfics, three original works and one non-fiction essay. Pattern? Do I see a pattern? I don't know. Not self-aware enough to see it. If anyone does, I'd LOVE to hear their thoughts. Tag 10 writers? I don't know 10 writers. I am tagging. @sadviper, @convenientalias, @rain-hat, @arlothia @terribleteej

[kbstories]

impression//expression

"It’s not like Kirishima had come all this way to U.A. to immediately break the promise he made to himself upon arrival.

It’s just that Bakugou is as feral as they come, and the moment Kirishima recognizes it’s fear he felt crawling up his spine that day, he makes it his personal mission to face it head-on until it’s gone."

(Or: Being friends with Bakugou Katsuki is anything but a linear experience. Kirishima Eijirou would have it no other way.)

Tags: Kirishima POV, Developing Friendships, Post-Kamino Arc, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Kiri Has A Dog Because I Said So

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Content warning for anxiety attacks and discussions thereof. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9.

***

Kirishima comes to sunlight shining on his face and an armful of Bakugou.

It’s not a sudden jolt of consciousness that alerts him of this. His brain comes online one synapse at a time with how all-around cozy he is, bundled up in comfortably warm covers with Bakugou’s head nestled in the crook of his neck, his arm wrapped loosely around Kirishima’s waist. In actuality, Kirishima slept so well it’s legitimately hard to get himself to wake up beyond lazily squinting an eye against that bright glare.

Which is why his first move is to pull the blanket up higher and snuggle closer to his Bakugou-shaped pillow. Bakugou, for his part, breathes something between a mumble and a sigh and slumbers on.

Out like a light. He’s onto something there, Kirishima muses. For a while, he lets himself drift to the calm two-step beat of Bakugou’s heart keeping time against his chest, the gentle tickle of Bakugou’s hair under his chin. Blissful oblivion nips at the edges of his mind; his body can’t quite get there, though, that pesky bit of awareness clinging to existence despite his best efforts.

Urgh, fine.

Kirishima blinks with a little more purpose behind it. His vision is blurred from overall drowsiness and the murky half-dark the blanket provides. Bakugou is easy to make out regardless, face slack and close enough Kirishima can see the minute shift of blonde lashes as he snoozes. It’s the residue redness around his eyes that nudges Kirishima’s brain to wonder and think and remember–

Blue fire. Unread texts. The hospital, Kamino Ward, All Might. Bakugou.

All at once, the sight of Bakugou passed out in his arms is anything but a peaceful one. It’s intimate in a way Kirishima suddenly feels uncomfortable with, not because he doesn’t like it – in his educated opinion, any day starting with cuddling is good by default – but because Bakugou is the least touch-y person he knows and this is crossing so many lines. All the lines.

Lines drawn by unspoken rules and implicit understandings Kirishima learned by sheer trial and error. All those other times Bakugou let his guard down around him seem like peanuts compared to this.

But… Bakugou is resting. Catching up on untold amounts of missed sleep, looking far more relaxed than Kirishima could’ve hoped for. Perhaps it would’ve been better to ensure he makes it to his own bed instead of sharing the pull-out couch; perhaps Kirishima shouldn’t have pushed when things are so fresh. Kirishima’s hands ache to move from between Bakugou’s shoulders yet letting him go feels wrong, too.

It was far too easy, last time. To sit there and bicker in class while Bakugou faded from view, mere miles away.

The dread roiling within him is familiar, as are the maybes and what-ifs that accompany it. It returns like an old friend, the thought of losing him to people who mistake his violence for villainy, who disregard the good shining at Bakugou’s very core in favor of the hurt his hands can cause. The brightest star in the sky, burning, desperate to be seen, to be acknowledged.

It makes Kirishima restless, this feeling – like the air is growing thin and the ground is about to collapse beneath their feet, and it’s up to Kirishima to get them out of there. His blood thrums with the need to fight tooth and nail to keep whatever is causing it away, to shield Bakugou until the shaking stops and the debris settles.

Kirishima has failed Bakugou once already. Not again, never again–

“Think any harder an’ your brain’s gonna melt.”

Kirishima’s heart nearly stops, then jumps into overdrive. A hesitant glance proves that, yup, that’s Bakugou stirring, right there. Bleary-eyed and still far too soft around the edges but awake. Kirishima isn’t ready for this.

He’s also dead. Super dead. Buried-so-deep-nobody-will-ever-find-his-body dead.

He swallows, any sort of greeting escaping his mind except a quiet, “Oh.”

Bakugou yawns and rubs at his eye, a gesture made clumsy with sleepiness. “Mm?” He props himself up, a hand laid flat on Kirishima’s chest. “Calm down, will ya? Your heart’s goin’ like crazy.”

There are no words to describe how impossible that is right now. “Um”, Kirishima says intelligently, and: “Sorry.” A little sheepish, since he can’t exactly help what his heart does (or his brain, for that matter).

He is on the verge of panicking, Kirishima notes dimly. That realization alone does little to chase away the half-formulated doubts threatening to choke him, that inkling of fear that’s on the brink of spiraling out of control. A moment later, he has to consciously unclench his hardened hands from the back of Bakugou’s shirt, which–

Ah. That’s what woke him up.

“Shit. S-sorry, I–”

There’s a frown on Bakugou’s face as he sits up. “Nothing’s goin’ on”, he tells him, calm where Kirishima can’t be. “’s just my room.” Just as deliberate, the covers are pushed aside to allow cool air to flow into their private niche of the world. Everything’s so bright, so–

“Kiri? Hey. Give me your hands.”

It takes considerable effort to focus on Bakugou’s voice. “Whuh?”

“Your hands. Like this.”

Bakugou holds out his own, palm-up. Kirishima does the same, staring blankly at his trembling, rock-hewn fingers. When Bakugou holds his palm, it’s with a touch Kirishima can barely feel. “Focus on this”, a low murmur followed by pressure to the meat of Kirishima’s thumb, faint despite the bones in Bakugou’s wrist showing from the effort. Bakugou slides it upwards and to the webbing connecting to his index, marginally more giving.

“You’re okay. Just breathe. Focus, right here.”

The touch shifts again, down to his wrist. Kirishima lets him do whatever, watching with a detached sort of fascination as his quirk relents. Bakugou’s thumb brushes over the spot where Kirishima’s veins are becoming visible again, the skin there thin and delicate. He digs in, an inch or two from his hand.

It’s a little rougher than before. Not unpleasant, just unexpected, and Kirishima’s fingers twitch. Bakugou’s lips press together. He does it again, notably gentler. “You with me?”

Kirishima hums. The question registers a moment later and he nods for good measure. “Yeah, I– It helps. This.”

“Mh.” Bakugou gestures for his other arm; he starts from his wrist and goes up to his hand this time, eyes on what he’s doing. “Pressure points are useful shit. You got one here”, a pinch to that spot between thumb and index, “and here”, a tap to his wrist. “Works best if it’s someone else doing it but you can, too.”

That sounds vaguely familiar. Perhaps something that came up the last time he googled it? Panic attacks used to be much more of an thing for Kirishima – before he hair-dyed and bench-pressed Red Riot into something more real, more than a distant daydream. More than a scared kid with shitty self-esteem.

(Life’s been manageable, since. Chaotic and distressing in a host of other ways as it swings back and forth between joy and disaster like fate’s cruelest pendulum and actually, it might be a bit of a miracle it took this long for his anxiety to make a comeback.)

Memorizing any new info is beyond Kirishima right now; he strong-arms his braincells to hold onto the term ‘pressure point’, at least. And if Bakugou is sharing, Kirishima figures it’s only fair to share back.

“The one I know is like, deep breathing? And, um. Talking through it. Counting things you can sense. What you see, hear, smell, and so on. It’s just…”

“Hard to do that by yourself, yeah.”

By this point, Bakugou is just brushing his thumb along the lines on Kirishima’s palm and that feels really nice, too. The image of his hands clawing up worn fabric is hard to shake off, though, making Kirishima’s stomach churn with guilt.

“Sorry, man. For waking you up, I mean. And freaking out on you. I didn’t hurt you, right? You’d tell me if I hurt you.”

It’s meant to come out with confidence, because Kirishima trusts Bakugou. It’s trusting himself that's the problem, sometimes.

A groan, long-suffering. “How many times…” Bakugou gives him a look caught between annoyance and fondness. “Kiri. First off, after yesterday, I have no fucking room to complain when it comes to– That. It happens, it sucks, it’s fine. It’s not your fault or whatever. Secondly–”

Kirishima almost chuckles at how pointed that one word is. He shelves the comment on his tongue for after the Bakugou Lecture he’s being treated to.

“I fell asleep on you. Which, my bad but also fuck you, I was tired and some fucking sap wanted to talk feelings at screw-this-AM. There’re no… scratches or anything, and you make an okay pillow for being a literal rock. So, we’re even.”

Kirishima does laugh at that. “I’m not a rock! Get your facts straight, bro.”

“And thirdly”, Bakugou continues with a smirk, “I just turned your hands into bombs, you dumb fucking rock. Either you let me spark it off you or I’m kicking you out to wash it off before that shit goes boom.”

“Spark off?” Head tilting, Kirishima looks at his hands. He doesn’t see anything but if Bakugou says there’s nitro, there’s definitely nitro. “Wait, is that what you do when you…?”

The gesture Bakugou does to let rapid-fire explosions flicker in his palms is easily copied, Kirishima has seen him do it countless times. The other rolls his eyes.

“Yeah. I got tired of getting it all over the place and wearing gloves twenty-four-seven is uncomfortable as fuck, I tried. Plus, burning shit is fun.”

Huh. Kirishima holds out his hands once more, a swift grin on his lips. “Sounds cool. One sparking off, please!”

Bakugou slaps them away immediately. “Use your quirk, dipshit. Or d’you actually wanna get ‘em blown to pieces?”

“Oh. Right.”

Everything under Kirishima’s elbow hardens in an instant. This time, Bakugou huffs under his breath and takes them between his palms. “Here goes.”

A flash, the familiar crackle of firecracker explosions – Kirishima braced himself for it to hurt a little despite Bakugou’s insane control over his quirk, and he does feel it. It tickles, mostly, the sensation of tiny bursts of heat rolling from his fingertips to his wrist a strangely soothing one.

Bakugou looks over his hands when he’s done, the tightness between his brows easing. Then he glances up to Kirishima’s face and sees the smile that’s broad enough to make his cheeks ache. The frown comes back tenfold.

“No.”

“Dude, yes. Do that again.”

“Nope. Fuck you, Shitty Hair, no.”

“You said it’s fun two seconds ago! Checkmate, I win.”

“Kirishima.”

Kirishima snickers until Bakugou’s palm presses against his cheek. It’s basically second nature to harden in time for the explosion to go by harmlessly and oh, this is so going to become a thing.

“It’s a thing now”, he informs Bakugou. “Can it be like our handshake? We totally need a handshake. What kind of besties are we withou–” A gasp. “Oh, oh, we can do the thing after training, too! I won’t even need to wash my hands. It’s fun and useful.”

Bakugou’s face twists. “What the hell? That’s fucking disgusting.” In one fluid movement, he’s out of their blanket nest and stomping off the couch. It would be intimidating… if not for his wrinkled shirt and sleep-mussed hair making it kind of adorable, instead.

“I’m done talking to you.”

“Aww, bro!”

Kirishima crawls half-way over the armrest only to catch a throw pillow – hah! – to the face. Another thud follows, turning out to be Kirishima’s phone tossed from across the room.

“Even mooched off my charger, ugh. You got a million missed messages. Take care of ‘em before your moms call the cops, bro.”

Bakugou's tone is practically drenched in sarcasm but Kirishima doesn’t care, he beams. Bakugou called him his bro and there’re simply no take-backs allowed on a declaration like that.

*

💪🏻 Kirishima Power 💪🏻

Mama K: Honey, are you awake yet? (received 10:10)

Mama K: Your mom and I are ready to come pick you up whenever. (received 11:20)

Mom: also let us know when we can start hunting your teachers for sport (received 11:22)

Mama K: No murder until our son is back, dear. (received 11:22)

Mom: mhmm sure (received 11:23)

aaaa morning!! (sent 11:38)

oh shit it’s almost noon hhhh (sent 11:38)

Mom: language kiddo (received 11:38)

oh crap** sry (sent 11:38)

Mama K: Welcome back! ❤️ (received 11:39)

hey mama ❤️ (sent 11:39)

ok so picking up is good!! we’re eating breakfast rn (sent 11:42)

well more like lunch 🙈 (sent 11:42)

Mama K: Okay! Now or later? (received 11:43)

ah, mitsuki is saying you two should swing by for tea so maybe in an hour? (sent 11:47)

and that the teachers are actually coming here?? later?? idk why tho (sent 11:48)

aside from, y’know (sent 11:48)

Mama K: Yeah 🙁 (received 11:50)

Mom: how’s katsuki holding up? (received 11:50)

umm ok. kinda. he looks tired as heck tbh and i’m not sure how happy he is about the teacher thing (sent 11:55)

it’s all a bit oof (sent 11:56)

Mom: hmm. anything we can do to help? (received 12:01)

def give him his space (sent 12:03)

and maybe don’t kill aizawa @Mom looking at u haha (sent 12:03)

Mom: bummer (received 12:06)

actually… one more thing? 👀 (sent 12:10)

Mama K: You want us to bring the big guns, huh? (received 12:12)

*

After the hellos and introductions and obligatory fussing over Kirishima – Mama gives him her usual forehead kiss, expertly avoiding his freshly-spiked hair, while Mom wraps him in her patented rib-pulverizing hug – the parents go inside, leaving Bakugou and Kirishima in the yard with…

“Riot.”

Kirishima grins and nods. He heaves the hundred pounds of tail-wagging excitement into a more comfortable position against his chest, big paws coming to rest on his shoulders. “Yeah! Isn’t he the cutest?”

“Your dog is called Riot.”

“Yup!”

Bakugou openly stares at Riot’s drooling smile. After a painfully long pause, he goes: “Okay.”

If all it took to make Bakugou speechless was an Akita with an unexpected (?) name, Kirishima would’ve introduced him to Riot ages ago. As it is, it’s taking all his willpower not to crack up at Bakugou’s expression. It’s like watching one of those ancient Windows computers suffer a system crash so severe even the task manager stops functioning.

Arms full of dog, Kirishima nudges him with his elbow. Reboot initialized. “But?”

Bakugou shakes himself a little. He gestures to Riot, or perhaps to Kirishima, or both? It’s hard to tell. “But… just, like… Why?”

Priceless. Kirishima silently vows to cherish this rarest of blessings in his memories for eternity. It won’t do to rescue Bakugou only to give him an aneurism the very next day. Setting Riot down, Kirishima pats orange-white hair off his borrowed clothes. The Akita immediately trots over to Bakugou to say hi. 

“I got Riot when I was really small, like six-ish? Seven? Something like that.”

Bakugou crouches and holds out his hand for a curious black nose to sniff. Kirishima sits down next to them, watching Riot take a deep whiff and promptly sneeze. Bakugou mutters something about explosives and dumb dog, be careful. Despite the forced casualness on Bakugou’s part, it’s clear he’s not used to being around dogs.

Still, he’s trying. Kirishima’s grin tempers to a soft, close-lipped smile at the sight.

“Back then, I only had a vague idea of who I’d wanna be. As a hero, y’know?” He reaches over to scratch Riot’s favorite spot at the base of his curled tail. It starts wagging immediately. “I was tossing around a few names and somehow Riot stuck. So, I tried it out on him and by the time I realized ‘Yup, that’s the one!’, he didn’t wanna listen to anything else.”

Riot pants at him, mouth wide. Kirishima boops his wet nose. “Yeah, I’m talkin’ about you. Stubborn dog.”

“You’re telling me your hero name got stolen”, Bakugou summarizes drily. “By a dog. When you were six.”

Figures that’s what Bakugou would get out of this. Kirishima snorts and shrugs.

“I guess? Riot – the hero, not the dog – existed way before the whole ‘Red’ stuff came along, ‘cause like… Crimson was out there, I knew he existed, but his philosophy was a bit beyond me. He wasn’t my hero yet, you feel me?”

Bakugou hums. “You weren’t a hero nerd yet. Just a space nerd.”

That startles a laugh out of Kirishima. He knocks his shoulder against Bakugou’s. “Exactly! See, you get me.”

“Shut up, nerd”, comes the predictable reply with a rougher knock back.

Eventually, Bakugou joins him in the grass, his knees propped up and elbows resting on them. Riot makes himself comfortable as well, sprawling on his side with his head resting on Bakugou’s thigh. The full might of pleading canine eyes look upwards. Bakugou squints. “The fuck.”

“He wants scritches”, Kirishima translates readily.

A beat, then Bakugou carefully rubs the knuckles of his index and middle finger in-between the white spots on Riot’s face. Riot huffs a content sigh and melts into the gentle touch.

“Hm. He’s soft.”

“Right? As a puppy, he was the softest and tiniest thing you can imagine. Wait, I might have pics on my phone. Gimme a sec.”

A bit of searching, and Kirishima taps on an old photo of him as a kid, pointy teeth flashed in an impossibly big smile as he hugs a chubby ball of brown fluff close to his face. Mama had dug it up from some dusty family album in a bout of nostalgia after Kirishima broke the news he’d been accepted to U.A.

“Behold: Baby Riot.”

Kirishima shows it to Bakugou. Only after Bakugou’s brows rise does he remember he’s probably never seen him with his natural hair color. Whoops.

Studying the photo for a moment, Bakugou continues to pet the adult version of Riot absent-mindedly. “He looks like a potato.”

“Wha–” Kirishima checks the photo to make sure it’s the same one. “Bakugou. It’s a puppy. It’s like, scientifically proven puppies are the one and only road to world peace. Hello? Nobody hates on a puppy, especially this one.”

Whatever face he’s making has Bakugou smirking, eyes sharp under a brow raised in challenge. “It’s got a weird shape and is brown. Potato.”

Kirishima whines. “Why are you like this? Riot, don’t listen to him, man. You’re the best.”

Riot has fallen asleep, oblivious to the outrageous claims being made in his presence. It’s better that way – the good, old boy deserves better than this slander.

Bakugou is looking down to the snoring dog, too, and something about it must soften even a prickly hedgehog heart like his because he sighs and grumbles: “He’s kinda cool. Maybe.”

Gotcha.

Kirishima pumps his fist in sweet, sweet victory. Nobody, not even the eternally grumpy, can resist the Kirishimas’ secret weapon.

*

On the way back home, Kirishima messes around with his camera until he’s managed a half-decent selfie of himself and Riot sharing the backseat of his parents’ car. A brief moment is spent hovering over his chat with Bakugou.

It’s the first time he’s opened it since– Since.

Baku 💣💥

[riot(s).jpg] (sent 16:58)

thanks for hosting me man 🐶 (sent 16:58)

dorm life, here we come!! (sent 16:59)

The tension in Kirishima’s chest is knocked loose as the ticks turn blue without delay, closing the gap to the ones from the lodge like it never existed. It unwinds entirely when, a handful of minutes later, Bakugou replies.

Baku 💣💥

idiot (received 17:05)

see you soon (received 17:05)

>>Chapter 6

[diddlesanddoodles]

DEAD WALLS RISE - CH 4

YES.

His hand glided along the cold and damp stone wall and he took small measured steps. Though the ground so far had been smooth and without any obstacles, Jae did not want to bump into something and fall over and hurt himself. That would just make this day all the better, spitting out his own teeth on top of already being hopelessly lost.

The days were beginning to blend together into one long never ending fever dream. Four months of living in Vhasshal. Spending his mornings with the new Matron, a young lady giant named Lolly, as she tried to get him to learn table etiquette when all he wanted was to eat his breakfast in peace. His afternoons were spent with Warren. He’d been teaching Jae how to play chess and it irked him how easily the King always seemed to win. Jae was convinced that if he could see the board from that high up he would have a better stratagem and would have no problem winning a game. But so far, the closest he’d gotten was cornering Warren’s King, only to have a rook sweep his knight away.

But when he wasn’t doing any of those things, he was in his room. Bored out of his mind. Warren seemed overly eager to win over Jae’s affections and had practically smothered him with gifts and toys and clothes. But after a while, it became so very tedious playing by yourself. He’d been playing with a ball made of leather and stuffed with wool, kicking it idly against the wall with increasing ferocity as the boredom began to transition into annoyance and then anger. With one furious kick, he sent the ball slamming into wall where the seem popped and tufts of wool fluff spilled out.

Walking over to collect his now ruined toy, Jae paused and felt a sickening jolt of alarm. There was a straight line crack in the wall near one of the decorative plaques along the floor. He had kicked the ball hard, yes...but enough to crack stone?

He left his ball where it lay and went to run a hand down the length of the crack, marveling at it. But he pulled his hand back when, from within it, he felt a cool breeze. It wasn’t a crack.

It was a door.

That had been three hours ago and even though he had enough foresight to bring a candle, the sad little flame had died after only a half hour of exploring and effectively casting Jae into absolute darkness. His exciting new venture was all of a sudden a potential death trap. His hand glided along the cold and damp stone wall as he took small and carefully measured steps, trying to keep the rising panic from overwhelming him.

The tunnels twisted off from one another and branched out into other corridors, but Jae decided to just keep moving ahead in a straight line. Or as straight a line as he could manage. At some point, the panic got its claws into him. Swells of tears pooled in his eyes, dripping down his cheeks. He sat himself down against the wall, balling himself up and cried.

He was lost. He was never going to be found. Not this time.

And then he felt the light gust of breeze across his hand. A breeze. A breeze! That must mean there was a door! He scrambled to his feet and began to walk again towards where he felt the air coming from. Rounding a shallow bend, he saw it. The thin outline of a door. He could feel the air against his face.

So relieved by the sight of an exit, Jae did not see the stairs that lead up to the door itself and he fell, smacking his knee painfully against the stone. “Augh...” he rubbed his bruised kneecap and then scurried up the remainder of the stairs. He pressed his hands the stone door and with every fiber of being being, pushed.

It gave way easily and he fell forward, tumbling blindly into the room beyond and landing hard on his knees. He cried out in pain, wincing from both the fall and the bright light of the room. After hours inside a dark tunnel, the room’s lit interior was near blinding and he blinked around blearily at the vague shapes. Behind him, he heard the door he had just come through shut.

From further into the room, he heard shuffling and muffled voices. And then a sudden angry voice boomed, “Who’s there?”

It was not a voice Jae recognized and he backed away from it in a literal blind panic. Still blinking to adjust his eyes to the bright room, he reached out to try and find the door. He much preferred a dark tunnel over an angry giant. But as his hands blindly scrambled for the door, trying to find the seem, his fingers only met the smooth stone wall. He caught a sob in his throat as the sound of loud footfalls echoed, coming ever closer towards him.

“I said who is there?” growled the voice. “Show yourself, now.” A pause and the he added with a vicious sneer, “If you will not come out of your own volition, I shall make you. And a warning: I don’t quite feel so generous this morning...”

Looking around through the slowly dissipating sheen of light, Jae could just make out what looked to be a small chest of drawers off to one corner and in a last ditch effort, he ran for the shadowed space beneath it.  

“What in the...Ah! There, you are you little scoundrel!”

Jae slid under the bottom, crawling madly for the back corner and as far from the open end as he could manage. The giant’s boots stomped just yards from Jae as he pushed himself into the back corner, staring with wild frightened eyes. Far above him, the giant cursed. And then the chest of drawers moved. It was pulled away and Jae was revealed to the open world once more, the dark looming shadow of his hunter above him, leering down with narrowed angry eyes and an ominous rumble. “Not very smart, are you?”

Jae curled into himself and even from behind his shut eyes, he could see the shadow of the giant’s body looming over him and he gave a pathetic mewl of fear as he waited for the giant to end him. His mother’s face flashed in his mind and his stomach roiled. He even thought of Warren...  

“Wait. What is…?” said the giant, quietly, almost to himself. The ire of his tone dropped like a lead weight through water. “Oh no...oh my.” There was a long silence before the giant spoke again; his voice much quieter and more gentle than before, sounding nearly like a completely different person. “Dear me...where ever did you come from, little one?”

Jae felt the heat of the giant’s hand and his eyes opened just a little to see both large palms reaching in towards him. He cried out in fear, kicking out and covering his head. “I’m sorry! Please don’t eat me, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to bother you!”

The hands hesitated and pulled back marginally and a large face eased down into Jae’s line of sight. But the giant’s eyes were round and guilt ridden and the color of honey. “No, no, no. No, little one. No. I am not going to hurt you at all,” he said and then snorted, the ends of his mouth pulling down with a distasteful frown. “Least of all eat you. Gods above, banish that terrible little thought.”

“Please...” Jae whimpered, shaking terribly. There was a sigh from above him and the giant’s hands returned, cupping him into gloved palms and Jae cried out a high pitched cry of alarm. He unfurled to put a hand against each large thumb as though keeping them apart so they would not crush him. Although should the giant wish to crush him, Jae’s meager strength was inconsequential. The ground pulled away as the giant stood back up, bringing the shivering human to his chest.  

“Now, now. You’re fine, little one,” said the giant, his voice soft and gentle. “You’re not in trouble. I am terribly sorry for scaring you like that. I mistook you for a...well. It doesn’t matter what I thought you were.”

Still shaking, Jae slowly raised his face to see the large face staring down at him. A gloved finger swept in deftly wiped the tears from his cheek.  

“There now. That’s better, isn’t it?” the giant said, turning into the room and stepping up to a table. His eyes left Jae to something on the table and with a relieved smile, he said, “Come out Barnaby, it’s safe. False alarm.”

From behind a stack of books, a human stepped out and Jae stared. He had not seen another human in months. The man was older and gray haired, frail looking, but with large intelligent eyes. He was dressed in an ill-fitting tunic and clutched a small book under one arm.  

“My goodness,” said the man with a smile, but looked shaken. “That was a lot of excitement for so early in the day. What ever was it, Maevis?”

“Not a what,” the giant chuckled as he lowered his hands down and laid them flat, a clear invitation for Jae to disembark. Which he did with alacrity. “But a who.”

The human man, Barnaby, stared open mouthed at Jae and blinked at him. “My dear boy...where ever did you come from?” Stepping up to Jae, Barnaby put a hand on his shoulder and bent down to peer into the his face. Jae’s mind was racing as he looked back at the man, a flood of emotions and feelings he had kept keep inside himself abruptly burst and the tears returned. He lunged at Barnaby, wrapping his arms around the older man’s neck and began to sob. Thin arms wrapped around Jae’s back, rubbing up and down.

“Oh,” Barnaby said in bafflement. “Come now, son. No need to be scared. You’re perfectly safe.”

“I did not mean to frighten the poor thing,” the giant added, sounding distressed. “Gods above, what a mess I’ve made of this...”

“Don’t be silly, it was an honest mistake,” replied the man and then to Jae said, “Maevis didn’t mean to scare you, my lad. He was just trying to protect me. I promise, you are safe.”

Barnaby carefully unlatched Jae’s hands from around his neck, putting a wrinkled hand to his face and patting his. He then stood, slipping Jae’s hand into his. “Come with me. Have a sit.”

Standing, Barnaby steered Jae over to a human sized table and Jae stared at it and the table, those feelings bubbling up again. It had been so long since he last sat in a real chair at a real table. There was one proper chair and off to the side was a stool. Barnaby planted Jae down into the chair and went to grab the stool, bringing it over and setting into it.  

“Now, how about you tell us your name, son?” Barnaby said, expression open and curious. He had kind eyes, but there were dark circles under them. As though he had not slept very well. The same sort of circles Jae saw on himself most mornings.

The nightmares were ever present and sleep was becoming more of an illusive thing.

“...J-jae,” he mumbled, running his sleeve across his face and nose. His hands were still shaking.  

“Jae?” Barnaby asked, rearing back in surprise. “Why, you’re King Warren’s little ward!”

He nodded, not quite understanding why he was so surprised. What other boy would be mad enough to be running around the castle? The giant had kept his distance from the table, but was watching them with rapt attention. “My goodness, I didn’t realize his ward was so young! I suppose that explains things a bit. But how in the world did you get in here? Those stairs are quite the climb, even for me.”

Jae swallowed thickly and sniffed. “I...I used the tunnel.”

“Tunnel?” Barnaby and Maevis echoed.

“But I got lost,” he said, laying his arms on the table and resting his head onto them. “And then my candle went out and it was too dark to see anything and the door over there was the first one I found. I didn’t mean to bother you none...I promise.”

“Do not worry, little one. You’re no bother at all,” The giant went back over towards the wall near where he’d caught Jae, examining the space near the floor. Looking back towards the table, he asked, “You say there is a door to these tunnels over here?”

Jae nodded. “Uh-huh.”

The giant hummed to himself, rubbing his chin. “Curious. And I am assuming you mean to say these tunnels are...human sized?”

He nodded again. “Uh-huh.”

“Well,” Barnaby said with some surprise. “How do you like that for a mystery, Maevis?”

“Not exactly what I had in mind when I said I wanted to unravel the mysteries of the world,” the giant – Maevis – said with a laugh. “But conveniently located, I must admit. How long were you in there, Jae?”

“A long time,” Jae said. “Like...a really long time. I thought I would be in there forever!”

“Well, then you must starving,” Barnaby said, walking over to a jar sitting near the end of the table among jars of paints and used brushes. He lifted the lid off and inside, Jae spotted round hard biscuits. Familiar in their shape and for their slightly yellow tinge and small black flecks. Barnaby held the open jar out to Jae. “Gone on. Have a few, my boy.”

Jae tentatively reached inside and claimed one of the biscuits. Barnaby hummed and then placed two more in front of Jae before putting the lid back on and setting it back down. Jae bite into the treat and the soft tender crumb broke apart and melted in his mouth. It was delicious and within moments, Jae was starting in on the second biscuit.

“They may not taste the same as you might remember, but I don’t claim to be a baker and admittedly, we did not use a proper oven to bake them. Rather, I was feeling nostalgic one day did not feel it appropriate to pester Farris or his lads into baking anything. Those boys are busy enough without adding my silly whims to it. So we built a small oven as an experiment. It was working for quite well for a while and I managed a few good bakes. But then it all caught fire.”

Jae laughed and shook his head. “They’re good!”

Barnaby grinned. “I am glad you approve, young master Jae. It’s my mother’s old recipe. Proper Silvaaran poppy seed biscuits. I used powdered lemon peel as it’s dreadfully expensive to import fresh citrus this time of year.”

“Well, if we are breaking out the biscuits,” Maevis said cheerfully as he made his way to a door near the back of the room. “Then I shall go make us some tea.”

“Oh, that would be lovely,” Barnaby said and turned to Jae. “How do you like your tea, Jae?”

Jae’s mouth was full of his third biscuits and to the man’s question he shrugged. “I don’t drink tea...”

“What?” Barnaby asked, looking scandalized. “You don’t drink teat? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

Jae chewed and swallowed. “Mama never let me. She always made me drink milk because she said if I didn’t I would end up with crooked bones like Uncle Anderson.”

“Well, I commend her efforts,” he replied. “But if this should be your first tea experience, there is none better.”

“He is exaggerating,” Maevis called back from inside the room where he had disappeared.

“He’s being modest. I’ve been an avid tea drinker since I was thirteen,” Barnaby said. “And I cannot remember a cup nearly so enjoyable as those Maevis brews. And for many years I drank the same tea served to King Haeral!”

Jae blinked at Barnaby. “Really?”

The older human paused, as though recalling something and his eyes grew sad.

“...did you know the King?” Jae asked.

Barnaby nodded. “I did. For...a very long time. I was his archivist.”  

“What’s an archivist?”

“I recorded and kept accounts of the happenings of court. Important events, not so important events. So that years from now, our descendants could look upon my words and understand our history.”

“How come you’re here?” Jae asked. “Did you have to run? When they attacked?”

Barnaby hesitated and then said, “No. I was not there when the capitol was attacked. I...well, to be frank my boy...I was a prisoner.”

Jae sat up a little more in his chair. “A...prisoner? Here?”

“Yes.”

“And they let you go?”

“When King Warren assumed the throne he gave us all a choice.  That is to say, he gave all of us who had been kept prisoner a choice. We could leave or stay.” He shrugged. “I chose to stay.”

“How come? If he was gonna let you leave?”

With a sad smile, Barnaby looked away. “Many reasons. But to be honest...I had no where to go. I am not a young man. And my skills were sharpened in the field of academia and such knowledge does not lend itself well to surviving out in the wilds. Nor could I offer any boon to a group who would have me. I would be a burden.” He sighed. “So when given the choice, I asked His Majesty if he would permit me to become his archivist. And that is what I had been doing for these passed months. And keeping Maevis company of course. It hasn’t been easy and there are many who have not been very supportive of me being here. That was why Maevis reacted the way he did. He feared you might have come to harm me.”

“Oh,” Jae said. “I guess...I’m kind of like you. I don’t have anywhere else to go either.”

Before Barnaby could answer, Maevis walked up to the table and carefully eased down a tray with a large tea pot and three large cups. Jae starred at it, wondering if the giant intended to serve them a trough’s worth of tea each.

“Now, this is important, Jae,” said Maevis as he unstacked the cups one by one onto the table. “How one likes their tea is a path to self discovery and despite what many will tell you, it will change as you grow older.”

“Papa put whiskey in his,” Jae said and Barnaby snorted.

Maevis frowned and cleared his throat. “I don’t think we’ll be putting any liquor in yours. I already know of one man who prefers a little tea in his whiskey.”

“You mean Keral? I don’t think he drinks tea,” Jae replied as Maevis began to pour the prepared tea into the cups. “He drinks all of Warren’s wine though.”

“Oh, so you’ve met already?” Maevis chuckled.  

Jae nodded. “Uh-huh. And Farris.”

He didn’t miss the way Maevis’s hand hesitated and his eyes flickering to Barnaby. Beside him Barnaby asked, “How did you come to meet Farris?”

“My first night here. Captain Baynor tried to get him to cook me.”

Maevis’s hand shook as he set the tea pot back down onto the try and he stared out into space. His face was hard as slate, eyes sharp and cold, and the same vicious voice from before came back. “...they should have hung that wretched cur. I would gladly crush his neck if I could...”

Barnaby was on his feet and next to the giant’s side in an instant. He put a hand upon Maevis’s arm and spoke calmly to him. “Calm my friend. Calm. He doesn’t deserve the energy you would waste upon thinking of him. Your greatest revenge is to be everything he wished to destroy.”

Maevis stared down at the tea tray for a long time and slowly, the anger drained away and his breathing became more even. He reached over to Barnaby, draping his large hand across the human’s shoulders. “Thank you, my friend. Thank you.”

“Not at all. Now! Let us have some tea. If there was ever a better way to wash away a bad taste in one’s mouth, it’s a good cuppa.”

“Yes,” Maevis replied, though it sounded forced, but after a moment he seemed to be back to his normal self.

“You’re both really good friends huh?” Jae asked and Maevis smiled at him.

“I would be lost without Barnaby,” he said. “A pity it should have taken that wretched war for us to have met. But I suppose if I were to be looking for a silver lining, it would be meeting him.”

“Agreed,” Barnaby said. “The arcane scholars I had any dealings with were never near as thoughtful or passionate about their work as Maevis here. To be frank, they were all great prudes. Should I have not been employed by the royal house, I daresay they would have gladly ignored me all together. Though I do not understand the underlying mechanics of magic, Maevis’s theoretical work is fascinating.”

Jae blinked and looked up at the giant. “...magic?”

“Why yes,” he said with a small grin. “I am a magician.”

Jae’s eyes lite up. “Really? You can do magic? Like the mages?”

“Well, not quite like a mage. I was not born gifted. I studied it from books,” he said and gestured around him to the walls. “Many many books.”

He had not had much of a chance to actually take in the room itself and following Maevis’s gesture, Jae  looked all around him in awe. The room was round and very very tall. The ceiling was dizzingly high up and every available space of wall was occupied by book shelves. Some were still being built and other sections were awaiting a final coat of paint. The shelves that were finished were stuffed to the brim with books and tomes and rolls of parchment.

“Whoa...” Jae breathed as he stared and then looked to Maevis with a sheepish sort of excitement. “Could I see some? Magic, I mean.”

“Well, why don’t you drink your tea first,” Maevis replied, setting one of the enormous cup next to Jae. The boy gave the giant a look and with an innocent looking smile, Maevis asked, “Problem?”

Jae did not reply, only looked to the tea cup and back at him. His dubious expression enough to convey his meaning.

“Oh! Dear me, I forgot,” Maevis replied with that knowing smile and took back the cup. He held it in his open palm and stared at it with a great measure of concentration and just as Jae was about to ask him what he was doing...the cup began to shrink. Jae jumped up from his chair and ran to Barnaby, peeking out from behind him as the cup shrank further until it was the perfect size for a human.

Barnaby lifted his arm and peeked down at Jae, laughing. “It’s all right, my boy!”

“H-how...how did you do that?” Jae asked, slowly easing himself out from behind Barnaby.

Maevis shrugged and sat his hand down, palm carefully cradling the now small cup. “Magic.”

Jae rushed over excitedly to collect the cup, but hesitated as though belatedly recalling the cup was sitting in the palm of a giant and to retrieve it, he would nearly have to climb into his hand. Looking up into Maevis’s face, Jae saw nothing but a pleasant and patient smile. “Go on then.”

Carefully, Jae propped his knee onto the edge of his hand and leaned forward to grab the cup by the small round handle and took extra care not to spill it as he pulled back. As Maevis pulled his hand away and took up another one of the cups, it too began to shrink. Jae watched, enraptured by the sight, even as he brought the cup up to his mouth and took a small sip. A sweet mellow flavor hit his tongue and he swallowed. He took another sip and another. Just as Barnaby was collecting his own cup, he looked to Maevis and said with a large smile, “It’s really good!”  

“Thank you, my boy. I’m very happy it’s to your liking,” Maevis said. “There is also milk and sugar if you wish. Next time you visit us I shall know how to prepare your cup.”

Jae nodded readily in agreement, going back to his seat at the table. He decided that he liked Barnaby and Maevis. They didn’t talk down to him or make him feel foolish. And it was nice being able to sit at a normal table again and talk to another human. As Barnaby offered him another poppy seed biscuit, Jae decided that there would definitely be a next time.     

[writerman]

Bard never thought that much of Thranduil's top surgery scars, he was told Thran had surgery, and they never bothered him, so that was it. Until Bard finally asked Thran how he got the scars. Thran just gives Bard a look. (Trans Thran, you can throw in my boi Elrond if you want XD.)

//This one is close to my heart for very obvious reasons. Thank you for letting me write this and I hope you enjoy it. 

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Scars.

Everyone had them.

All different kinds, from all sorts of injuries- embarrassing or serious.

Life gave you scars, some people were proud of them and others sought to hide them, overall most of the time they weren’t anyone else's business but your own.

Well… all of the time.

People can share stories of their scars with you but only if they want that, you cannot demand the story of another person’s body, nor will they ever be obligated to tell you anything about the world that lives on their skin or under it.

Thranduil had scars.

Scars on his chest, one healing and almost invisible on his forearm. They were faint silvery things that Bard only noticed when they were close.

The discussion of scars never came up between them in conversation, and honestly, Bard never thought it was any of his business.

Though he could not deny he was curious, still, he never mentioned it, curiosity needn't be spoken out loud.

Bard and Thranduil had not been together all that long, a couple of months, they met at the tail end of winter, the last dregs of the winter festivals loitering on the outskirts of the city, looking more menacing than cheery now that Christmas had passed by.

The grey slush had soaked Bard from his shoes up to the calves of his jeans, but he’d trudged dutifully through the snow with his youngest sibling to take her to see the reindeer that lay sullenly at the far end of a dreary paddock.

Tilda was far too involved with naming the reindeer to notice that her older brother’s attention was elsewhere.

A literal angel that had descended from the Heavens was leaning over the paddock fence watching the animals intently as though his gaze might will them to their feet.

It did not and eventually, they gave up, as they turned they caught Bard’s gaze and gave a shy smile before trying to hurry off through the slippery slush.

He’d had half a mind to follow the stranger but even the allure of smooth skin and long blond hair could not pull him from his tiny sister and her joy at seeing “Santa’s reindeer”. They remained at the fence for another 10 minutes before Tilda complained she was cold and Bard offered to take her to get hot chocolate to warm up.

Tilda had taken a seat by the window with her mug of hot chocolate leaving Bard to navigate a chair through the packed cafe, he sat quietly while Tilda chatted about the animals and the names she gave them, meanwhile, Bard could not shake the feeling of awe that had struck him at the sight of the blond stranger.

Sadly, he didn’t see him again that day.

They bumped into another a few weeks later, Bard instantly recognised him and stood in panicked silence as the blond apologised for not watching where he walked- after a long awkward pause Bard cleared his throat and did something he had never truly imaged he’d have the courage to do.

He spoke to him.

“I saw you- uh, at the winter festival.” He blurted out his voice croaking midway through his sentence, mortifying really, he would have to spend the rest of his life living as a hermit in the mountains now…

The blond just nodded as though Bard pointing out the obvious was the norm for him like he had expected this for some reason, the same shy smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and he looked away.

“Ah, you were really staring at those reindeer.” Again, words came forth and he was wondering if his brain had actually engaged with the rest of his body that morning when he left the house, it seemed not but the blond responded this time with actual words.

Good LORD that voice could restart a heart.

“They looked sad,” Three words and Bard already knew he was done for, who sounds like that and looks like that- this whole beautiful package?! “I was trying to work out if I could come back that night and steal them.” He seemed sincere and Bard had to take a moment to relearn how to breathe as he choked on air.

“So… did you?”

He never got an answer instead he received a very rushed query that sounded something along the lines of ‘Wouldyouliketograbcoffee…. Youcansayno.” After deciphering the code Bard accepted the offer and they headed to the closest place for coffee.

Once in the warmth the blond opened up a bit and apologised for not introducing himself.

His name was Thranduil.

“I’m Bard, it is really nice to meet you, Thranduil.”

And that was how they met, they had had coffee and then remained in contact until a mutual friend forced them to ask one another out.

Even after 4 months Bard still couldn’t quite believe his luck, some mornings, after Thranduil had stayed the night Bard would roll over to watch the other sleep and he’d have to pinch himself to make sure the whole scene was real and he wasn’t just enjoying a ridiculously vivid dream.

Silly maybe, but Bard did really feel so incredibly lucky.

He realised quickly that Thranduil was a quiet man, always seemingly deep in thought, never sharing the contents on his mind as though the key to unlocking the secrets of the universe was to keep it bottled up in one head until one day something clicked.

That’s what Bard imagined, that had a complex system of thoughts and feelings zipping through his mind at a thousand miles per hour leaving him reeling but unaffected on the outside.

It was not fair to put him on a pedestal like that, he knew deep down if he ever voiced his thoughts that Thranduil would be hurt and he wasn’t sure why, it just felt wrong that he assumed the other was on the side of Godhood than mortal man.

Maybe in a past life…

The blond had a flair for art, thought stifled by his family and their expectations of him. Always needing to be better, to stand taller, to speak clearer and only to speak if the words held meaning- a scary way to live wondering if your words meant anything to those that surrounded you on a daily basis.

Asking to pass the salt would likely end up in a conversation about the wealth of the earth if that was how he was to live.

Bard hoped it was a slight embellishment the information Thranduil fed him, the tiny morsels of his life at home revealed with one sentence at a time but as soon as the blond realised he was talking about home he shut down.

There were times Bard would be studying frantically very last minute for an exam, his masters was important but not important enough to study in good time for a test,… at 29 years old he still lived like a teenager but with more bills and more responsibility, and suddenly he would be presented with a sketch of himself his hair wild and falling in his eyes as he leaned over a book gripping a pen a little too tightly.

Thranduil often explaining that it was always a pleasure to draw him while he studied or even slept, though he would quickly add that he hoped he did not “appear creepy” at the admission that he had, indeed, watched him sleep once or twice just to draw him.

“All in the name of art!” Bard would quip, he would then proceed to smother the blond with kisses- though if things got too steamy Thranduil would stammer out excuses before putting some distance between them.

Apologies would come from both of them but the air would remain tense. It was usually around this time that Thranduil would take his leave and head home claiming he had forgotten some important appointment with his family or doctor.

He saw the doctor a lot, and it worried Bard. Yet, he did not pry.

It all came to a head one summer night, they were walking back from a garden party/BBQ hosted by the same mutual friend that got them together, both of them on the right side of buzzed from the few drinks they had.

He wasn't sure why he brought it up, the lack of intimacy in their relationship and his constant doctor's visits.

“We have intimacy it just isn't sexual. I know it isn't enough for you,” The words came out wrong and sounded accusatory to his own ears. “In truth, it isn't enough for me either.” Thranduil trailed off and looked away, he couldn't find any other words to further explain himself.

His gaze stayed on the floor for a moment to shield himself from Bard's curious and intense gaze.

“Tell me about you, what bothers you. Share the burden, you don't have to do this alone.” Bard grabbed Thranduil's hand giving it a supportive squeeze, smiling when the blond finally looked up at him.

“I'm so scared of how you'll see me if I tell you who I am.”

“You're Thranduil, my boyfriend and sketch artist extraordinaire!” They both laugh and Thranduil seemed more at ease but fear lingered in his now glassy blue eyes.

It was now or never it seemed.

“I've seen you look at the scars on my chest, I know you're curious and honestly thought you'd work it out from that but… now I'm seriously thinking that you just look at me adoringly and don't think what things are only that they are there.” A weak and nervous laugh escapes Thranduil, his hand is damp in Bard's and he pulls it from the other's grip.

“Well…” Bard began a small smile forming as they continued to walk back towards his flat, Thranduil was half right. It had never occurred to him that they were close enough that he could ask- he knew they were in a romantic relationship and that generally they could be more open about themselves but to Bard it still seemed inappropriate to ask about something like that.

Scars were something intimate and secretive about a person, a story that they may have buried deep within themselves almost repressed so as to not relive the memories every time they saw the reminder in their skin.

They way Thranduil spoke it was as though he wanted Bard to ask, perhaps it was easier to explain if someone asked than to broach the subject completely out of the blue and unbidden.

Quite the quandary, Bard was well aware that his boyfriend was notoriously secretive about many things, many personal things aside from his general interests and whatnot.

To ask him now was bold but if he didn’t he may lose the chance to try again later. The alcohol in his system buoyed his confidence to a degree and with some hesitation pushed on and bit the bullet.

“I do want to know- I see them all the time and I am curious as all Hell what they could be from. I just…,” He stopped speaking trying to grasp at words all the while they continued to walk now in an awkward silence both holding their breath for a moment. “How do you even bring up the conversation of scars without sounding like an ass with no tact?” Thranduil laughed as soon as he heard Bard’s reasoning for remaining shy on the subject and he grabbed his hand to squeeze it, clearly happy that his boyfriend was just as unsure as he was at times.

Though it never really showed, the uncertainty he certainly harboured. Bard seemed untouchable in his enthusiasm and courage, constantly looking out to the horizon and following the edge of the world rather than looking at his feet and watching his every step.

Never brutish in his words or actions, not overly gentle but capable of comfort- he had a calming influence simply because he seemed so confident all the time.

Thranduil felt lucky to have met such a man by chance, and he didn’t want to think about the future especially if Bard was not in it- there was a flutter of hope in his chest that once he explained what he had been through things would not change. But such an outlook felt entirely too positive for Thranduil and he dampened down the hope so that his expectation fit with who he felt he was and how he came across to others.

There had never been a time he had enquired as to how people saw him from the outside looking in, that would require speaking to a lot of people and he already felt tired thinking of doing so.

“They are surgery scars.” God, the words had come out in one breath and he felt his inside seize up as Bad whipped his head round to look at Thran, his eyes darted to his shirt then back to his face before speaking.

“Surgery scars, were you unwell?”

Thranduil gave a noise that could be construed as ‘Well…’ but nothing more, after a moment of silence Bard spoke again.

“You can tell me, I promise you that everything will be fine.”

That was not a promise Bard could make not with the nature of the surgery, instead it would open a whole other can of worms, Thranduil felt stiff with fear, the process of rigor mortis setting in before he’d even died from the sheer fear of what he was doing. HIs heart had never beat so fast.

“For a long time I believed I was sick, that there was something horribly wrong with me but I was not sick I just didn’t have the words to describe who I was yet.” He was drawing this out unnecessarily and it wasn’t helping his anxious heartbeat in the slightest.

“I am transgender, I have not always been known as Thranduil and the scars are from surgery to sculpt my chest to appear more masculine.” The stunned silence that followed was sickening, it felt heavy and cold in the pit of Thranduil’s stomach and he felt tears sting the corners of his eyes.

Then there it was! Bard’s grip tightened on Thranduil’s hand the squeeze of comfort he had always offered until he realised he was being pulled round to face his boyfriend.

They were stood at the foot of the path that led to Bard’s front door.

Their eyes met.

“This changes nothing- Thranduil, I love you, I can’t even think of enough words to get across how much I love you. I know you’re scared, I mean, you’ve just told me something huge something important to you and honestly I feel honoured that you trust me with this.” Bard wasn’t sure what to say, for all he knew Thranduil was the first transgender person he had ever met, he couldn’t be sure but he was definitely the first transgender person who had openly told him that about themselves.

Rather than hanging around outside while the blond felt so vulnerable, he tugged Thranduil into walking again and they went inside.

Thranduil remained quiet for a long time, Bard moved about the flat a moment before returning with a glass of water for Thranduil who accepted it gratefully.

“I- want to ask a question but I think it is too forward,” Even as he spoke Bard regretted the words but Thranduil had a knowing look in his eyes, as though he had expected a certain question before it had even been voiced.

“You want to know if this is the reason we haven’t had sex.” His tone flat and he took a sip of water, one hand clenched into a ball rested on his thigh the other holding tightly to the glass, at that moment he looked exhausted and Bard was at a loss on what to say.

So, rather than saying anything he sat next to Thranduil and covered his balled fist with his hand giving a light squeeze- the blond needed time and he absolutely needed an apology.

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t necessary for me to question you on that- I can’t just assume things about you.” There were many things he wanted to say but wording them seemed hard now, or at least accusatory and that was the last thing he wanted.

“No, it’s fine, really… it is the reason but the fact you just jumped right to that as though, as though it was something that was wrong and not just nerves. I can’t expect you to be perfect about this if you don’t know anything.”

“You’re right to be upset, I wasn’t exactly delicate about it, and I shouldn’t have questioned you at all. Google is a thing, you don’t have to tell me anything, I want you to know that you have the freedom to tell me whatever you want or not.” Finally Thranduil set down the glass eyes red and glassy still he wanted to cry with relief that this man still loved him the fear in the back of his mind that leached into his heart and stomach was subsiding- how terrified he had been to think that Bard would toss him aside for ‘lying’ to him this whole time.

But no, his Bard as not like that. His Bard wanted to learn and understand and his Bard treated him like a human, as a man.

“I love you.”

[minyoongisjiminie]

nothing happens by chance | 01

Part: 1/?

• pairing: Jimin x Reader

• genre: fluff/romance, angst, (possible future smut scenes)

• words: 2,4k

• disclaimer: language, mentions of alcohol / depression / cheating / violence, bad grammar (lol) all throughout the series

↳ You're life is not really going the way you want to.

The fact that you're dad died is not even the worst thing that could happen to you, but you also take over his company to fullfill his dreams of making the company successfull even after his dead. You get an amazing chance to hand over the snacks that the company is selling at the BBMAS, where you also meet Park Jimin. A very charming and breathtaking idol that sweeps you of your feet and who shows you the beautiful moments in life. But you're ex-boyfriend is not quite into the idea of you finally getting your happiness...

→ Chapter 1: "What is the you that you've dreamt of?"

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

"Do you think we could get even a slightly chance to hand out our snacks at the BBMAS?”

You looked up to see Arlo's face. His smile was really wide and in his eyes you could see that he was confident when it comes to this deal. Well you were happy that one of you guys were that optimistic...

"You can trust me, boss!" He tried to wink at you but he failed horribly. Oh my gosh, what did you even think of when you took over this business? "When you're sure of this, I'm sure of this!" You tried to look at the positive things, there's nothing you can do. Forcing yourself to smile you gave him a smile back and send him with the job to get this promo. Hell knows the company needed it.

*

"You need to look at the bright side! When you get this promotion you could literally hand Harry Styles some chips. FREAKING HARRY STYLES?! Isn't that crazy?" You rolled your eyes as you listened to Tori's hyper voice. Tori was your best friend and (sadly) she is the most optimistic person there ever is in this world. I mean she could be optimistic since everything in her life seemed to go very well. Good love life? Check. Good job? Check. Full of happiness and trying to spread it everywhere with her annoying bright smile? Double check. "Yeah that would be so cool! And maybe I hand over Ariana Grande some bread sticks and tell her how important that is, so my life wouldn't get ruined!" The last few words escaped your lips like cuss words but just because you accidentally dropped all of your papers. "Come on! It's going to be awesome believe me!"- "I also wanted to believe you when you told me that a year ago when I took over this damn business!"

Suddenly there was a pause on the other side of the line. "Tori? Are you still here?"

"Umm. I'm sorry a client wants something from me... I need to hang up see you soon! Love you!" "Love you too!" She hung up and you realized how sick you were with this life ad job. 'Just one win would make my dad so proud' you thought, hoping he would look down at you and keeping you in his eyes.

As soon as you started to pack your things into your bag, you heard your name metres away. "Y/N!!" You turned over and saw an sweaty Arlo sprinting over to you. "Miss Y/N! We got it!" When he finally arrived in front of you, he shoved his phone into your face. Completely suprised you looked at it:

"Thank you for your Service Mr. Hempshire. We would love to see you handing out your products in the backstage area! For more details contact us..."

You smiled. Finally the victory was within your reach. "Tell them we would love to and if there is any dress codes we need to know." He nodded like a cute smiley puppy and already started to type in his phone.

You held him back. "Good job Arlo!" You winked at him. He nodded and once again, for no apparent reason, he started to sprint upstairs.

2 weeks later

"I'm so nervous. Damn what happens when I accidentally spill coke all over Shawn Mendes suit?" Your mom laughed and handed your a tea cup. "What is this?" You asked suspiciously. "Nothing special. Just your dad's famous hot chocolate." - "Oh really?!" You took the cup from her hand as soon as your heard her words, and took a sip. It's still as good as the first sip you took when you were 5 years old. "What have I done to deserve this kind of surprise?" Your mom stroked your hair and started to become a bit more serious. "I know how you must feel Y/N." You stopped drinking and looked right into her eyes. She had the same eyes as your dad. You were always so surprised by the fact that they had the same eyes. Those same hazel eyes that were just so... mesmerizing. "You started to take care of our family when you were so young. Dropped out of college.." -"That's what I needed to do, mom. I didn't have any other choice. It's alri..." Your mom raised her hand. "It's not! It's not fair. You shouldn't have to deal with all of this." You smiled. Your mom was always such an inspiration to you. Even though she lost the love of her life she never even once showed you or your sister her weakness. Never. She always would lock herself up in her room and cry. That's the one thing she never wanted to show. Weakness. You kinda understood why she handles it that way. Because you're the same.

You took your last sip, put the cup on the shelf and hugged your mom. "It's alright. I do it for dad. He deserves to have a win for the company. Even though he is not here anymore... I know that he is proud of me." Your mom faced you. "He definitely is! Who wouldn't be proud ofyou?"

*

"We need all of this! Just take all the boxes and follow me, please."

The workers were big men who could carry 4 big boxes at once. One of them looked very grumpy and scoffed when you gave them an order. You gave him an apologizing look and wanted to clear the fact that you were also just doing your job and there are literally a billion things you would rather do than handing out chips and cookies to world stars. When you finally unboxed everything and made sure all of the snacks looked tasty at first sight, you gave Arlo a serious look that showed some kind of "be aware" sign. He nodded and gave you a salute. There is one thing you need to do before you could hand over snacks. You needed to call your best friend.

"Okay, you need to know that I am freaking nervous. And I look... too much. All of this is too much." You looked at the fancy bathroom mirror and couldn't identify yourself. You straight up looked like a celebrity. The management of the BBMAS were adamant that you get a little makeover. It was still weird though... "Shut up! And have fun! I'm so sad that I can't be there with you." A smile started to form on your lips. Tori was always just... there. Even though she can't be here she still is... kinda here. "Just don't think that this is something you need to attend to because of that company that you hate. Just think that this is a party and maybe.. just maybe! There will be also some cute famous boys you can flirt with?" You snorted. "That's not the reason why I'm here.." You started to look closer at your beautiful doppelganger in the mirror. "But... I'm not Y/N anymore. Not today." -"That's my girl!" - "Okay I need to go now. Bye!"

When you left the ladies restroom, you made sure no one would look your way. You shouldn't be the lady that they saw leaving the bathroom before and then expect them to eat something from your stand. That's weird.

While you were making sure no one would see you, you also started to run faster to your stand even though you couldn't really see where you're walking, as you were acting like a ninja to make sure that no one would see you.

But with your non existent luck you bumped into someone.

And that was not soft! You fell down so that made the situation more difficult. You saw black expensive shoes in front of you. You were prepared to apologize your ass out of it. When you finally looked up you were just so... hypnotized by that much beauty. He smiled genuinely and wasn't even mad that you bumped into him. He took your hand and helped you up. How can you possibly describe that beautiful creature of a men? Well he just looked better than any men you ever saw in your entire life. He had golden shining hair and such a beautiful eye smile. You recognized that he was just a few centimetres taller than you. He smiled again and was still holding your hand. "Are you okay?" You just looked into his eyes. It was clear that he wore lenses but those eyes were still so... whoa... "Uhm.. yea..uh.." You took your hand back and started to make sure you didn't ruin the dress. After all, you got it from your sister and she would kill you, if she knew that you destroyed it. He laughed. What a beautiful laugh... It sounded so clear and light. "I'm sorry. I was not really looking into the right way when I..." He shook his head. "It's alright. Things like that happen so much!" He saw someone giving him a signal that he should follow him. "I'm sorry I need to go. But I hope we see each other soon and I can buy you a drink?" You nodded still mesmerized by his beauty. He bowed slightly and ran to his possible manager.

Still puzzled about that little accident that just happened you walked back to your stand. "Miss Y/N? Is everything okay? You look like you just saw a ghost." Arlo started to scan your whole body to see if you hurt yourself somewhere on the way. Yeah you are a little clumsy... "No everything is fine. Really! I stay here. You should walk around and hand these over." You showed him the big plates of peanut butter cookies. He nodded slightly with a confused look on his face. You sat down and checked your phone. Since no one really was in the backstage area right now you scrolled through your Instagram feed just to see you're little sister's face. She looked so...happy. But not the normal kind of happy. She really looked like she was living the life. You were so intensely happy for her. She deserves it. Atleast one of you girls should be living the life they always wanted. It was her first year on college. You know how afraid she was to attend. But you made her believe that it's going to be awesome and that she will find a lot of new friends. And it really looks like she did find friends. You smiled. You're heart was so warm after seeing her pictures. You even completely forgot the little accident you just had with that mysterious hottie. You sat there for half an hour just scrolling through my social media and completely forgetting the time when you suddenly realized that someone blocked the light..

You looked up. A really handsome boy was standing right in front of your stand looking at the snacks. He looked hungry and his big brown doe eyes looked at the snacks and then at you, probably wondering if he could take some. You smiled. He was so cute. He probably also was some years younger than you. That made you kind of soft, since you always wanted to have a younger brother. "Here we go." You gave him the entire plate of the goodies. His eyes started to widen and he had a little nose scrunch when he looked at you, while smiling brightly. You heard several thank you's and he even bowed to you. You showed him with a hand gesture that it's alright. He sat down with the plate. You felt so soft while looking at him eat. He must've been so hungry. When he finished the plate you gave him one more plate. Suddenly there were coming 6 more handsome boys near your stand. One of them was so familiar... Crap that was the boy who you accidentally bumped with!

He saw you and started to look down shyly. Still with that beautiful smile on his lips. One other boy with black hair started to tease the boy whom you gave the snacks too. The other boys joined them, also starting to tease him and stealing his snacks. They didn't even saw you except the "accident-boy". He was the only one who looked several times into your area. Another boy also really good looking started to realize that you stared at each other. He laughed out loud and whispered something to the "accident-boy". You looked away. It was so embarassing. You didn't know that he had that many friends, right here... "Can you stop Taehyung-ah?"

"Accident-boy" pushed the boy with the light hair playfully away. When he catched you staring at him. You looked away. You could see from an angle that he smiled crookedly. When you  saw that the boys were done with the 2nd plate, you took another box put some snacks on it and gave it to them. "Oh thank you so much! That's so nice of you!" A boy with a big smile and really cute dimples offered you his hand. You shook it and gave him a little bow. "I'm Kim Namjoon and we are BTS." Now you found out who they were! The biggest boy group in the whole world just casually sitting there fighting over YOUR SNACKS!

"Oh, I didn't really kno-" The black haired boy that teased the kid earlier also decided to join your conversation. "Yes, we are BTS. I'm worldwide handsome Jin. Nice meeting you!" He also shook your hand and gave you a flying kiss. You smiled a bit puzzled. What is even happening right now?

Finally "Accident-boy" decided to introduce himself to you. "Hello. I'm Jimin. We met already, right?" He smiled. He was shaking your hand genuinely and bowed afterwards. You recognized that he was the only one who held your hand for a long time. His fingers were so small and cute. "I'm sorry again." You gave him a little flirty smile. Tori was the one who told you that flirting was completely okay. And you were in the mood to flirt. "That's fine. I'm kinda glad."

His smile got wider and your heart stopped a beat. What is your problem? You will never ever see him again. You shouldn't be so stupid! But everytime your eyes met, you had the feeling your heart was jumping out of your chest....

[mostlydeadlanguages]

Two Rapes, Two Murders (2 Samuel 11-13)

Image: "Amnon and Tamar," by Steve Tucker

These three chapters depict the pivot point of King David's life.  Having completed his seize of power from Saul's lineage, he seems to be at the peak of his career.  But he grows complacent and stays home while his soldiers fight a war, leading to the decision to rape his subordinate's wife and murder her husband.  From there, things begin to unravel: he receives harsh prophetic condemnation, then becomes (unknowingly?) complicit in his daughter's rape by his heir, who would himself be murdered in revenge.

2 Samuel 11: The Rape of Bathsheba  

At the turn of the year, the time when kings go out [to war], David sent out Joab — and his officers with him, and all Israel.  They obliterated the Ammonites and besieged Rabbah.  But meanwhile, David stayed in Jerusalem.

It was evening time.  David got up from his bed to wander the roof of the palace, and he saw a woman bathing on the rooftop.  The woman was very beautiful.

David sent someone to ask about the woman, and he said, "Why, that is Bathsheba, Eliam's daughter, the wife of Uriah the Hittite." [1]

David sent messengers, and they took her; she came to him, and he slept with her.  (Yet she declared her own innocence during her defilement.) [2]  Then she returned to her house.

But the woman had conceived, and she sent someone to tell David, "I am pregnant."

.

David sent to Joab, "Send me Uriah the Hittite."  So Joab sent Uriah to David.

Uriah came to him, and David asked him about the wellbeing of Joab, and about the people, and about the war.  Next, David told Uriah, "Go down to your house, and wash your feet." [3]

Then Uriah exited the palace, bringing the king's gifts after him.  But Uriah slept at the entrance to the palace, with all his lord's officers, and he did not go down to his house.

They told David, "Uriah did not go down to his house."

So David said to Uriah, "Haven't you come from a journey?  Why didn't you go down to your house?"

Uriah said to David, "The Ark and Israel and Judah are staying in huts, and my lord Joab and my lord's officers are camping out on fields.  Should I go to my house, to eat and drink and sleep with my wife?  As you live and breathe, I swear I shall not do such a thing!"

David told Uriah, "Stay here for another day; tomorrow, I will send you back."

So Uriah stayed in Jerusalem that day — and the following one.

Then David invited him to eat and drink in front of him, until he got him drunk.  In the evening, he went to sleep on his couch with his lord's officers.  But he did not go down to his house.

That morning, David wrote a letter to Joab, and he sent it by the hand of Uriah.  In the letter, he wrote, "Put Uriah in the very front of the fiercest fighting — then draw back from him, so he gets struck and dies."

.

When Joab surrounded the city, he assigned Uriah to the place where he knew there were mighty warriors.  The city's people came out and fought Joab, and some of David's officers were among those who fell.  Uriah the Hittite also died.

Joab sent someone to tell David all the details of the fighting, and he ordered the messenger, "After you finish telling all the details of the fighting to the king, if the king grows angry and says to you, 'Why did you approach the city to fight it?  Didn't you know that they would shoot from atop the wall?  Who killed Abimelech son of Jerubaal?  Didn't a woman throw an upper millstone from atop the wall, so he died at Thebez? [4]  Why did you approach the wall?' — then you should say, 'Also, your officer Uriah the Hittite died.'" [5]

So the messenger went, and when he arrived, he told David everything that Joab had conveyed.  The messenger said to David, "The people had gained an advantage over us, and they came out to meet us on the field, but we prevailed over them at the entrance to the gate.  Then the archers shot at your officers from atop the wall, and some of the royal officers died, but your officer Uriah the Hittite also died."

Then David said to the messenger, "Say this to Joab: 'Don't let this matter upset you; one way or another, the sword devours.  Strengthen your attack on the city and destroy it.'  Give him encouragement."

When the wife of Uriah heard that her husband Uriah was dead, she mourned for her spouse.    But once the mourning had passed, David sent for her and added her to his house, and she became his wife and bore him a son.

The thing that David did was evil in YHWH's eyes.

[1] We see elsewhere that Eliam was one of David's close allies; Bathsheba was not only the wife of David's warrior but the daughter of his friend.

[2] This line is traditionally interpreted as "she was purifying herself after her period" (NRSV).  While women were considered impure during their period, neither of the words are quite the right ones for that meaning.  "Impurity" meant any kind of ritual uncleanness, and (as in Numbers 5:19) could refer to the impurity of engaging in adultery/illicit sex.  As for "purifying herself," the verb form literally means, "to declare/ensure oneself as holy."  So I follow Auld in viewing this as an act of resistance by Tamar: even in the midst of apparent adultery, she declared herself not a willing participant, making David's action unequivocal rape.  This parallels Tamar's similar actions in chapter 13.

[3] Washing his feet was probably a euphemism for sex, perhaps because it signified cleaning up before going to bed (cf. Song 5:3).

[4] The death of the hero Abimelech (depicted in Judges 9) was apparently a well-known illustration of why one should keep enough distance from a city wall when attacking.

[5] Note the machinations of Joab, who is one of the Bible's most wonderfully amoral characters.  David said nothing about fighting next to the city wall; that was Joab's strategic decision, and one that cost him many officers.  But he defends himself preemptively against the king's criticism with an observation colored by a hint of blackmail: he knows that David's own actions were not blameless.

2 Samuel 12: An Allegory of Accusation

Then YHWH sent Nathan to David, so he went to him and said to him:

"Once there were two men in one city: one was rich, and one poor.  The rich one had flocks of sheep and herds of cows — very many of them.  But the poor one had nothing at all, except for one little lamb that he had bought.  He raised her, and she grew up with him, together with his children.  She ate from his scant provisions, and drank from his cup, and slept in his arms.  She was like a daughter to him.

"A traveler came to the rich man, but he hesitated to take from his own flocks or herds, to prepare for the guest who had arrived.  So he took the lamb of the poor man, and he prepared it for the guest who had arrived."

Then David grew very angry at the man, and he said to Nathan, "As YHWH lives, the man who did that is a dead man!  As for the lamb, he must restore it fourfold, because he did that thing and showed no compassion."

Nathan said to David, "You are the man!  Thus says YHWH, the God of Israel: I anointed you as king over Israel, and I rescued you from the power of Saul.  I gave you the house of your master, and the wives of your master into your arms, and I gave you the houses of Israel and Judah — and if that was insufficient, I would have added just as much and more.  Why have you scorned God's word to do evil in his eyes?  You struck Uriah the Hittite with the sword, and then you took his wife for yourself as a wife!  As for him, you killed him with the sword of the Ammonites.  Henceforth, the sword will not pass from your house for all time, because you have scorned me and taken the wife of Uriah the Hittite to be your own wife.

"Thus says YHWH: Look!  I am raising up evil against you within your house, and I will take your wives in your sight, and I will give them to your neighbor, and he will sleep with your wives in the sight of this very sun!  For you have acted in secret, but as for me, I will do this thing before all Israel and before the sun."

Then David said to Nathan, "I have sinned against YHWH!"

Nathan said to David, "Yet YHWH will overlook your sin; you will not die.  Still, because you utterly scorned YHWH [1] in this affair, the son born to you will surely also die."  Then Nathan went back to his house.

Then YHWH struck the child that Uriah's wife bore to David, and he grew sick.  David pleaded with God on behalf of the boy, and David fasted and went to lie on the ground.  The elders of his house rose up against him, to get him up from the ground, but he refused and would not eat bread.

Then, on the seventh day, the child died.  David's servants were afraid to tell him that the child had died, for they said, "look, when the child was alive, we spoke to him, and he wouldn't listen to what we said; how can we tell him that the child is dead?  He will do something bad!"

But when David saw that his servants were whispering back and forth, David knew that the child had died.  Then David asked his servants, "Did the child die?," and they said, "He died."

David got up from the ground, washed himself, anointed himself, and changed his clothes.  He went to the temple of YHWH and worshiped, then came back to his house.  He asked for food, so they put it before him, and he ate.

Then his servants said to him, "What is this that you've done?  For the sake of the living child, you fasted and wept; once the child died, you got up and ate food."

He said, "While the child still lived, I fasted and wept, because I thought, 'Who knows?  YHWH may show me favor, and the child may live.'  But now he is dead; why should I fast?  Am I capable of bringing him back again?  I can go to him, but he cannot return to me."

Then David consoled Bathsheba, his wife, and he went in to her and slept with her, and she bore a child.  He named him Solomon. YHWH loved him and sent a message through Nathan the prophet, naming him Jedediah ["beloved of Yah"] because of YHWH.

.

Joab fought at Rabah of the Ammonites, and he took the royal city.  Then Joab sent messengers to David, and he said, "I have fought in Rabbah, and I have also taken the 'water city.'  Now, gather the remainder of the people and make camp against the city, and take it.  Otherwise, I will take the city myself, and it will be called by my name!"

So David gathered all the people, and he went to Rabbah, and he fought it and took it.  Then he took the crown of Milkom from atop his head; its weight was a talent of gold, plus a precious stone, which went on David's head.  (He also brought out very abundant spoil from the city.)

As for the people in it, he brought them out, and he set them with saws and iron picks and iron axes, or passed them along to the brick kilns.  He did this to all the cities of the Ammonites.  Then David and all the people returned to Jerusalem.

[1] Literally, "the enemies of YHWH." This peculiar phrase (hasn't David scorned YHWH, not his enemy?) has various explanations and alternatives, but appears to be a form of oath euphemism; see also 1Sam 25:22.

2 Samuel 13: The Rape of Tamar

This is what happened next.  Absalom, David's son, had a lovely sister; her name was Tamar, and David's son Amnon loved her.  It distressed Amnon to the point of illness because of Tamar, his sister — for she was a maiden, and Amnon fantasized [1] about doing anything to her.

Amnon had a friend whose name was Jonadab, the son of David's brother Shimeah.  Now, Jonadab was extremely clever.  He asked him, "Why are you listless, king's son, morning after morning?  Won't you tell me?"

Amnon told him, "It's Tamar, the sister of my brother Absalom; I love her."

Jonadab said to him, "Lie down on your bed and act sick, so that your father comes to see you.  Then tell him, 'Please, let my sister Tamar come and feed me — she'll make comfort food in my sight, so that I can see and eat from her hand.'"

Amnon laid down and acted sick, and the king came to see him.  Then Amnon said to the king, "Please, let my sister Tamar come and make two bosom-cakes [2] in my sight, so I can eat comfort food from her hand."

So David sent home for Tamar, saying, "Please, come to your brother Amnon's house and make some comfort food for him."

.

Tamar came to her brother Amnon's house, where he was lying.  She took dough, kneaded it, and made bosom-cakes in his sight.  Then she boiled the bosom-cakes, took the pan, and turned them out in his sight.  But he refused to eat.

Amnon said, "Send away from me every man." [3]  So every man went away from him.  Amnon told Tamar, "Bring the comfort food into the inner chamber, so I can eat comfort food from your hand."  

Tamar took the bosom-cakes that she made, and she brought them into the inner chamber, to her brother Amnon.  But when she offered him them to eat, he grabbed her and said to her, "Come on, sleep with me, my sister!"

"No, my brother!" she told him.  "Don't violate me!  It isn't done like that in Israel.  Don't do such a disgusting thing!  And what about me — where could I take my disgrace?  And you, you would become one of Israel's disgusting men.  Now then, please, speak with the King; he won't refuse me from you."

But he refused to listen to her cries, and he was stronger than her, so he violated her and slept with her.

Then Amnon hated her with a terrible hatred, so that the hatred that he hated was greater than the love that he had loved.  Amnon told her, "Get up and go!"

"No!" she said.  "For this evil act is worse than the other that you did to me." [4]

Yet he refused to listen to her.  He called for the youth who attended him and said, "Please, take *this away from me; send her out and lock the door after her."

(On her was a long-sleeved tunic [5], for that was how kings' maiden daughters dressed after adolescence.)

So the attendant sent her outside, and he locked the door after her.

.

Tamar put ashes on her head; as for the long-sleeved tonic on her, she tore it.  Then she put her hand on her head and went away, weeping.

Her brother Absalom said to her, "Was your brother Amnon with you?  Well then, my sister, stay silent; he is your brother.  Put this matter out of your mind."  Then Tamar stayed, a desolate woman, in her brother Absalom's house.

When King David heard all these matters, he was enraged.  [Yet he did not punish his son Amnon, because he loved him, since he was his firstborn.] [6]

Absalom did not speak with Amnon, either positively or negatively.  For Absalom hated Amnon, on account of him violating his sister Tamar.

.

It had been two years.

Absalom had some sheep-shearers at Baal-Hazor, near Ephraim, and Absalom called for all the king's sons.  Then Absalom came to the king and said, "If you would, your servant has some sheep-shearers; please, let the king and his officers come with your servant."

The king told Absalom, "No, my son, let us not all go, so we are not a burden on you."  He urged him, but he would not go, though he blessed him.

Absalom said, "If not, then please, let my brother Amnon come with us."

"Why should he go with you?" the king asked.

Yet Absalom urged him, so he sent Amnon and all the king's sons with him. [7]

[Absalom prepared a kingly feast.]  But Absalom ordered his servants, "Please watch for when Amnon is drunk with wine.  I will tell you, 'Strike Amnon' — then make him die. [8] Don't be scared; haven't I myself given the orders to you?  Be strong!  Be brave men!"  And Absalom's servants did to Amnon just what Absalom ordered.

All the king's sons got up; each one mounted his mule and fled.

.

While they were on the word, news came to David, saying that Absalom had struck all the king's sons, and not one of them remained.  So the king got up, tore his clothing, and lay on the ground, and all the servants waiting on him tore their clothes.

Jonadab, the son of David's brother Shimeah, replied, "Don't let my lord think that they killed all the young men, the king's sons — for only Amnon is dead.  This was determined by Absalom's command, ever since Amnon violated his sister Tamar.  Now then, my lord the king should put this matter out of his mind; don't think that all the king's sons are dead, for Amnon alone is dead."

(Absalom then fled.)

The young man on watch looked up, and he saw (look!) many people coming from the Horonaim road on the mountainside.  Jonadab said to the king, "Look!  The king's sons have come.  Just like your servant said, it happened."

When he had finished speaking, (look!) the sons of the king came, and they lifted their voices and wept; the king and all his servants also wept inconsolably.

Absalom had fled, and he went to Talmai son of Ammihud, the king of Gesher.

But [David] mourned his son every day.

Absalom had fled, and he went to Geshur.  He was there for three years.

Then the king's [passion] to go out against Absalom ceased, for he had been consoled over Amnon's death.

[1] "Amnon fantasized": Literally, "It was marvelous in the eyes of Amnon to..."  The verb "to be marvelous" can refer to something literally impossible/miraculous, or to something wonderful/desirable.  "Fantasized" is my attempt to convey both desirability and surreality.

[2] "Bosom-cakes" is my translation of a word that literally means "hearts" and has often been translated as "heart-shaped cakes."  The modern "heart shape" originated in the Middle Ages, so a "heart-shaped cake" would be an uneven lump — possible, but hardly evocative.  Instead, I theorize that the cakes were breast-shaped, which is a recognizable shape (cf. the Italian "Minni di Sant’Agata"), naturally comes in a pair, and could be euphemistically be called "hearts" due to their similar anatomical location.  (Cf. Nahum 2:8 and Exodus 29:29 for similar usage.)  The name would also make sense for the cooking method of boiling, which results in a smooth, pale loaf (still brown from wholemeal flour, but not additionally bronzed).

[3] "Man" (/îsh) can refer to people of either gender, or to males specifically.  Given that a woman stays behind, I interpret this as meaning the latter.

[4] Rape, though considered wrong, was a one-time offense.  The Bible's laws show more concern about the social status of the rape victim, who would be considered unmarriageable and therefore lack economic support for the rest of her life.  Indeed, the Bible contains laws that mandate that a rapist must marry an unmarried victim.  This fits with Tamar's assertion that David would have let the two marry; Abraham and Sarah had famously also been half-siblings.

[5] This is the same type of garment that was historically translated as Joseph's "coat of many colors."  Its actual meaning (other than indicating a special garment for royalty) is unclear, but the modern consensus is for a "long-sleeved/modest" dress.  Incidentally, the word for the garment (ketonet) may be etymologically related to English "cotton," via Arabic.

[6] The Hebrew text of Samuel is infamously bad; the version we have was, at some point, passed on by a poor copyist who made many errors and omissions.  For the most part, I have tried to stick with the Hebrew text as is, despite the excellent efforts of others to reconstruct the missing segments from ancient parallels.  Here, however, an entire sentence has dropped out of the Hebrew, and it's very important to the passage's narrative, so I have added it in brackets.  The same applies a few verses later.

[7] There are a lot of linguistic parallels here to Tamar's rape — especially around David's role in sending the victim to their doom.  Just as Tamar was silently obedient, so is Amnon.

[8] "Make him die" — this is not the normal verb for simply killing someone.  Rather, it has connotations of execution and divine punishment.  Absalom is encouraging his servants to view themselves as righteous executioners, not murderers.

[fangirlandiknowit101]

Story starter meme

Rules: List the first lines of your last 15 stories. See if there are any patterns. Then tag 10 of your favourite authors!

I was tagged by @definitelynotaminion

(I guess the 15 last means in update order...)

Some nsfw!! You can find all the fics on my ao3.

1. Lessons in love (viktuuri)

“Yuuri Katsuki?”

Yuuri’s mind blanks out. He’s in a small park behind a skating rink larger than any he’s ever visited, wondering how he ended up there in the first place.

And now, a foreigner is approaching him.

Maybe if he closes his eyes and pretends he’s a statue, the man will ignore him.

“You are the figure skater Yuuri Katsuki, right?”

The man smiles at him when Yuuri peeks through his lashes, tall and pale and oh god, he’s gorgeous.

2. Miliy (viktuuri)

Viktor has never done anything illegal before, and maybe he still isn’t, but surely – surely – paying people to get off on camera has to fall within some sort of immoral don’t-let-the-press-know category on Yakov’s list of Reasons I'm Balding.

And yet he can’t stop.

Gnawing furiously on his lower lip his fingertips hover over the touchpad on his laptop, the transfer of a not insignificant sum of money just a click away. When his eyes flicker to the screen – to the man currently licking cum off his fingers, eyes a hooded dark brown that Viktor tries and fails not to drown in every time – the decision is easy.

3. Sugar star (oisuga)

At 6 am sharp, Tooru’s eyes flew open as he threw himself towards his phone. He thought it might be a new record in reaching it, but then again he was already awake and merely biding his time until the device would yell It’s a trap! to signal the day’s first incoming text.

It was from Iwaizumi, of course, and he couldn’t help the silly little smile that graced his lips as he opened it to read.

Or well, he would have read it if it wasn’t just a picture of a wrinkly bulldog. Before he could think of an appropriately annoyed reply, another text followed the first.

Welcome to the 40’s club. Maybe now you can get a discount on your anti wrinkle cream.

He pressed the call button.

“You’re awful,” was the first thing he said (more like whined), flopping onto his back again to stare at the painted night sky on his ceiling. “And I don’t use anti wrinkle cream!”

4. The sun within me (sasnar)

”Hey Sasuke!”

It took Sasuke a second to realize that the person yelling at him was, in fact, not an intruder but rather Naruto, though by that point the knife was already securely embedded in his kitchen wall. Great, another dent to add to the already present four.

“Really Sasuke, you should be used to this by now! You need to relax a bit.”

Turning his head towards the noise he watched the other ninja slump down into one of his kitchen chairs, one arm on the table and the other loosely hanging off the back of the chair. Of course, that stupid grin was spread over the tan face, stretching out the whisker marks.

5. I see the universe in your eyes (viktuuri)

Well, Viktor thinks, this isn’t very good.

He’s got one hand covering his mouth and nose against the heat billowing around him, eyeing the unstable steel construction he’s standing on warily. It could give out any minute, really, but at least he has minutes.

There’s a high-pitched screech somewhere in the distance, like metal grinding against metal, and he nervously wipes sweat off his brow. To say he hadn’t planned on ending up here is an understatement.  It was supposed to be a routine mission, one of the boring ones, a simple pick-up-some-valuable-cargo in one of the outer systems. Nothing like the missions that had made him famous, had given him a reputation.

I know I always thought I’d prefer going out with a bang, but this is a little early.

The rest is under the cut bc this post is too damn long haha...

6. Prosecute my heart (sasnar)

Sasuke liked to think that he was neutral about Halloween. Actually, scratch that. He liked to not think about Halloween at all, but right now he found it very difficult to keep his brain free of the (fake) holiday considering his work desk was completely covered in all things Halloween.

It was Monday.

A Monday that so happened to be October 31st, and had he expected this he would have called in sick for sure.

7. Wasn’t expecting that (sasnar)

Sasuke isn’t quite sure what to make of his new classmates yet. They seem like your regular, run-of-the-mill people, with varying degrees of awkward. He probably feels more awkward than most.

Though, it’s not nearly as awkward as he used to feel, and now his awkward is more related to being able to act however he wants to without getting shit for it. He isn’t used to it yet, but it doesn’t worry him, because everything is right and the worst part is over, anyway. Still, during the first week he accidentally went inside the girls’ changing rooms before gym class. He’d been stressed, and too used to associating school with things like having to be a girl, and he’d had one of those annoying and pointless arguments with his parents as they dropped him off. He hadn’t been thinking, which was funny because thinking feels like the only thing he’s been doing the past years.

8. tomorrow, today (kagesuga)

Suga breathes in the excitement in the air, leaning against the railing up on the spectator’s level. Two seats are already secured right behind him, and he taps his fingers against the cool metal in quick little twitches.

“It should only be a minute or so,” Daichi says by his side, amusement evident in his voice as he leans on his forearms to peer down at the court.

“I just want to make sure they see us before they start,” Suga defends his anxiousness with, worrying his lip between teeth as his tapping continues.

“They already know,” Daichi mumbles, voice low as if he knows it won’t do a thing to Suga’s state of mind.

9. Head over heels (sasnar)

Sasuke isn’t lonely. He isn’t. He’s got plenty of things demanding his attention, therefore he doesn’t have time to be lonely. Maybe it’s the apartment, he thinks, as he makes his way down the busy street after successfully having completed his various errands. It had only been two months since he moved in after all, it would take some time to get used to the additional space.

 10. The sun within me - extras (sasnar)

There was a thud followed by a gasp as Sasuke’s hands slammed against the glass wall of the shower. His head was bent, water streaming down the dark bangs plastered to his flushed face, lips tingling and sore from the bruising kiss Naruto had just given him. Tan hands caressed down his back, palms pressing into his muscles.

“Sasuke…”

11. Secret Santa for SNS xmas 2015 (sasnar)

“Saaasukeeeee.”

Heaving a sigh, Sasuke dropped the dishes back into the sink and dried his hands, sparing a look at the clock in the kitchen. Naruto had slept for all of one hour and twenty minutes. A baby would be easier to take care of.

“Saaaaaaaasukeeeeeeeee.”

12. The sweetest gift is you (sasnar)

Why, oh why did absolutely everyone in Konoha decide that this evening in particular was perfect for braving the cold and leaving their homes to go shopping for Christmas… Couldn’t they see Naruto was in a hurry, dammit! Pushing and shoving he made his slow way through the mass of people littering the streets, a figurative clock inside his head counting down the seconds he was now late by, hoping Sasuke was somehow feeling the Christmas spirit and wouldn’t be too annoyed with his tardiness.

13. Pumpkin surprise (sasnar)

Oh god, this party was boring. He’d only been here for thirty minutes, and he was already dying to go home. Not that he was usually much of a party person, but he’d arrived a while after it started when everyone was already drunk, and Sasuke simply did not drink, which made everything five times as boring.

Why was he even here… oh, right. Because Karin dragged him, literally dragged him after handcuffing him to herself, declaring that she would never forgive herself for leaving her good friend all alone on Halloween. The fact that Sasuke didn’t like Halloween and also would never forgive her for dragging him seemed unimportant, apparently.

14. You and Me (and Him) (sasnar)

Sasuke is rushing, pushing himself forwards with chakra bursting from the soles of his feet to the rhythm of his frantically beating heart. It’s happening again rings through his ears as he careens through the village, sight set on the Hokage tower. Of all the times to leave the village…

He’s only been gone for a couple of hours, but the pang of regret still leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He shouldn’t have. He should have brought him with him. If only he could have.

The few people milling about the entrance of the tower give way to him, eyes widening at the look on his face. Shizune is there to take him far below ground level, leads him to one of the all too familiar special, reinforced cellars. He can feel the heat long before they reach it, the pressure in the damp air causing the hairs at the nape of his neck to rise.

He knows this pressure. It’s bad this time.

15. Naruto and Sasuke (sasnar)

Somehow, our names always seem to be associated with each other. But I guess it can’t be helped, living in a small town like this. There are only so many people you can be friends with, and only so many you can dislike without becoming lonely. That’s why I’ve spent my life trying to become friends with everyone I can, and I have to say I’ve succeeded pretty damn well besides that one exception.

Uchiha Sasuke.

If I were to describe him, I’d say he’s a jerk who seems to enjoy making my life miserable, and wherever I go he always shows up.

If I were to try and describe our relationship though…

I know it says to tag my fav authors but i like a bazillion writers so i’m just tagging a few of you that i follow on tumblr bc i’m lazy so pls don’t think you’re not my fav if you’re not tagged (actually pls do the meme anyway if you want!!)

I tag: @kiaronna @uchihanochidori @teekettle @byebyeholocene @nihonlove

This was a lot of fun~ As for any patterns... well, it’s pretty obvious I like to start right away with some action, and leave descriptions for some other time. I kinda really hate descriptions lol. Also I tend to write while amused so, that probably shines through? I need my fics to be fun or action or both haha! 

[tauers-go-dutch]

Road trip through the Balkans

The Balkans are a destination that I never really thought of going to before moving to Europe. However, more and more people have been talking about this region, and it really is a gem.  I would have said hidden gem, but Croatia in particular is becoming a more and more popular destination.  This was a longer trip for us, where we spent seven days road-tripping from Dubrovnik (Croatia) to Kotor (Montenegro) to Mostar (Bosnia and Herzegovina) to Split (Croatia).  This was a more adventurous trip where we explored cities, ruins, beaches, and national parks.  It was great fun, and I highly recommend the Balkans as a destination for your next trip to Europe.  

Our hotel in Dubrovnik was located a bit outside the old city.  To get there, we had to navigate several narrow alleys and streets.  After looping around several times, we did eventually find it.  The hotel was a really nice surprise- we had the most fantastic view of the sea and the old city.  We enjoyed the view for an hour or so then went out to do our first activity- an escape room.

An escape room is a room where you are locked inside with a series of puzzles that you need to solve to ultimately escape the room within a set time limit.  These rooms have various themes.  Being in Dubrovnik, the obvious theme of this room was Game of Thrones, specifically set in the Battle of Blackwater Bay.  While the room was fun, Mariah and I needed a lot of hints in order to solve the room. We’d both like to do more, but we definitely need some practice.  Luckily Amsterdam has a few for us to try.  Afterwards we had dinner and drinks, and went back to the hotel. Randomly, a boat outside our hotel started launching fireworks.  We still don’t know what the occasion was that Thursday evening, but it was really cool.

Surprise views from our apartment rental

The photo sent to us by the escape room owners!

I am a big fan of this tradition. Best table wine I’ve had! 

Surprise fireworks in the bay beneath our apartment 

Friday we spent the morning exploring the old city.  As alluded earlier, the old city of Dubrovnik is the setting of King’s Landing in Game of Thrones.  When you look at pictures from above, it is easy to see the resemblance.  Mariah and I hiked around the city walls, which provided fantastic views, but we were drenched from the humidity (higher than Amsterdam) and the 28 degree heat (yes, I’ve converted to Celsius- it’s about 82 F).  While the raw heat isn’t bad, our acclimation to Amsterdam (it’s always in the low 20s) and the dense humidity was a killer.  This was a theme throughout the vacation.  Once we saw the city, we ate at an amazing vegan, yes vegan, restaurant called Nishta.  I had faux-enchiladas, and believe me, this was one of the best meals I had. Seriously.

Game of Thrones Battle of Blackwater Bay 

The Red Keep!

After lunch we had a kayaking tour.  It was really nice going around the city and the nearby island.  Interestingly, the island is said to be cursed ever since Austria-Hungarian powers took over.  They kicked out the local monks and used the island as a private resort.  The monks cursed the island so that the owner would meet an early demise.  Our guide traced the tragic deaths of all of the various rulers right up to Franz Ferdinand. Since Franz, the island has been made a public park open for all, thus breaking the curse (ie, no one person is using the island for personal pleasure or gain).  It was a fun legend with neat connections.  Unfortunately, we were not able to visit the island.  We would really like to go back and explore it, and visit the actual Iron Throne ;).  Back to Kayaking, we also saw an abandoned hotel on the sea, which is the basis for the rendering of the Red Keep (more GoT).  Also interestingly, this hotel was the most popular hotel in Europe up until the collapse of the USSR (and subsequently the independence war of the various Balkan countries from the former Yugoslavia).  The sights were breathtaking.  

After the kayaking trip, we had a bit of dinner.  We went to a place that specializes in raising roosters specifically for meat. While it was good, if you talk up chicken that much, you better blow my mind.  It really just made me look forward to visiting The Post Brewing and getting some fried chicken when I visit home.  After dinner we visited a wine bar.  Croatian wine is legit.  The biggest grape used is a near relative of Zinfandel, which is a big jammy and peppery grape that is popular in Californian wines.  We wish we could have taken some wine home (we didn’t have checked baggage). Look out for Croatian wines, it just might be the next popular wine region.

The next morning, we started driving to Montenegro.  The border crossing went smoothly enough.  We pulled up at 9:00 am and had to wait for 30 minutes or so as four cars were in front of us, but we had about 20 cars line up behind us as we waited. Good timing on us!  The Montenegro bay is gorgeous- extremely picturesque. Kotor is the main destination for the old city, and the hike up to St. John’s Fort.  The hike was ridiculous, and, with GoT still fresh on my mind, reminded me of the path up the Veil.  The hike was enjoyable, but again we were drenched!  We went back down and explored the old town for a bit.  While Kotor is beautiful, we did feel like we ran out of things to do after a while.  The city is very small, and very touristy.  It is a popular spot for cruise ships, which is appropriate as I really think it is a stretch to spend a full day there.  We ended up walking around to the newer part of town, and found a really nice restaurant where we ordered a meat platter for two, but came with enough for four.  Well after the hike, we wolfed the entire thing down!  With that platter and two drinks, we paid about 17 euro- amazing! That night was the Champions League final (soccer), and it is a big deal in Europe.  We sat on the patio of a bar that set up a large projection screen and enjoyed the game (well, at least until Real Madrid pulled away- 4 to 1 final score).

Views from the hike to St. John’s Fort

The next morning we trekked to Bosnia.  This experience was very different from the drive from Croatia.  Croatia was admitted to the EU a few years ago, and clearly has better infrastructure than Montenegro.  Most of the ‘highways’ were worse than unmaintained rural country back roads.  Potholes, crumbling asphalt, unpaved gravel (again, for a supposed highway) made the drive interesting.  However, once we were in Bosnia (which is currently bidding to join the EU), we noticed the better infrastructure.  Those gripes aside, the drive had nice views.  It reminded us of driving through California.  Plus we saw quite a bit of wildlife, including a turtle that crossed a back road (it was pretty cool and we stopped for some pics with our new friend).

The Bay of Kotor 

Turtle friend! 

We made our way to Mostar, but first stopped at a Dervish abbey called Blagaj Tekke.  The cave and the house are stunning, and worth an hour if you are in the area.  Once in Mostar, we had an adventure finding our hotel- we had to drive down a pretty steep and narrow road which was more footpath than road.  But the hotel was luxurious, by far the best we’ve stayed, in Europe, and run by the sweetest couple.  Once settled in, we explored the city and the famous bridge.  The bridge was built during the rule of the Ottomans, but was destroyed during the civil wars of the 90s.  We visited a museum which showed how the bridge was painstakingly reconstructed using the same specifications (literally down to millimeters), materials, and techniques of the original.  Just be careful when crossing, it’s slippery!  Locals will also jump off the bridge once they collect enough funds from the crowd.  In fact, the bridge divers are so famous that Red Bull is hosting its official 2017 diving competition in Mostar.  

A cool observation of Mostar is that it is a city of dualities.  For example, nowadays, the bridge literally connects the Christian and Muslim sides of the city (specifically the old city).  The Muslim side was pretty cool- we explored the bazaar (and bought some neat jewelry) and a mosque with a fantastic view of the bridge and city as a whole.  After exploring the old city, we made our way to the new city (the second duality). The new city had its own charm, and is overall less touristy.   The new city has a nice park (with a wicked Bruce Lee statue), international schools and universities, bars and churches. But the final duality is the proximity of new, up-kept, and maintained buildings with abandoned and war-torn projects clearly reminiscent of the past Eastern European regime.  These abandoned buildings play host to some fantastic street art- easily one of my favorite parts of exploring Mostar.  Later, we made our way back to our hotel in the old city, and ate at one of the best restaurant I have ever been to.  Some of the other expats swore by Tima-Irma, and I have to agree that this place is amazing.  Just like the place in Montenegro, the place specializes in meat platters that are enough to feed a small army.  But the chicken, the cheese, the pork, the grilled veggies, the everything was amazing!  Plus, the owner, Irma, was hilarious.  And she gave us a free beer.  Again, with tip (which shows how much I loved this place as I have grown accustomed to the European way of not tipping), I spent less than 20 euro.  We loved everything about Mostar, and we highly recommend a visit.

The mosque from the bridge

The bridge from the mosque

The next day, we made our way back to Croatia, but stopped over to a Bosnian park called Kravica. The waterfalls were stunning. However, once you see the waterfalls, there isn’t much else to do.  Even still, we hiked around a bit, and we actually saw a badger!  It was pretty cool, because it sat in a tree about five feet away from us.  Luckily, it scampered away after few moments and didn’t cause us any trouble, but I also was unable to get a picture.  Regardless, it was very cool.  Afterwards, we continued on to Split.  Split also has an old town (sensing the theme of the places we visited?), but it also has a much more sprawling city surrounding the touristic old town.  The old town is actually the remnants of the original Diocletian’s Palace. Driving into Split, we immediately went down to a beach just outside of town.  We caught some rays and enjoyed the water for the afternoon.  Afterwards, we went to another wine bar for dinner and more fantastic Croatian wine.  

Kravice Falls

The port of Split

Diocletian’s Palace -- Diocletian, A Roman, was buried in the tomb on the left. The Christians then turned it into a church and added the bell tower. 

The next day, we visited Krka, a Croatian national park famous for its waterfalls.  Unlike Kravica, the park is huge!  We visited several areas of the park, and had to drive around to get to each place.  The waterfalls we also absolutely stunning, and I really enjoyed hiking around the park. This place is absolutely worth a day trip.  Afterwards, we went back to Split, and enjoyed some burgers (which were ok, but this place really had fantastic onion rings!), homemade ice cream, and Croatian craft beers (most are surprisingly good).  

Krka National Park

We brought our suits but decided not to take a dip! 

The next morning we had another great meal (breakfast crepes), walked the beach (with some more street art), and headed to the airport (more difficult to find than it should be).  While we didn’t get to do everything we wanted in Croatia (like visiting Hvar, Plitvice, and Zagreb), this region definitely has enough charm to warrant coming back at some point in the future!

Tot Ziens!

[mirroredtranslations]

Tsubasa Sleeping - Chapter 6

Wazamonogatari – Nisioisin p. 227-233

[Previous Chapter]

In fact, I made quite a big gamble on the amount of information I could obtain from Dramaturgie-san about Oshino-san, and on how reliable that information was in the first place—but now that I think about it, Dramaturgie-san may have made a similar gamble on me.

I might be a young traveler, but even though I was perfect to be used as bait—not false bait, actual bait—if there were any other options, I'm sure a professional specialist like him wouldn't want an amateur girl he'd just met participating in his work.

It wasn't a question of ethics or morals, but an excess of uncertain elements; unlikely as it might be, he couldn't even be assured I wasn't on the vampire twins', High-Waist and Low-Rise's side myself.

Whether or not I could be trusted, whether or not I could be relied upon.

It was more dubious than a ghost story.

But he must have accepted my request to collaborate and the transaction I proposed because he didn't see another way forward.

Using me to locate their hideout and settle the case before more damage is done—to borrow his words, “for the twins' sake”—may not have been the optimal plan, but it certainly wasn't a bad one; I had some oddity-related acumen, after all.

Ougi-chan might look at our intentions and appraise us both as fools, with that thin smile, that dark smile of hers—

(—looking back now, regrettably, we'd probably deserve it. Both me and Dramaturgie-san ended up imprisoned in that old castle.)

(Setting aside how that happened, weren't High-Waist and Low-Rise under constant surveillance? Yet you couldn't locate their hideout without using a decoy operation? Kinda idiotic, isn't it?)

(I also doubted that point a bit; but when I actually got kidnapped, I understood. It's because the hideout itself was an oddity of some kind. That is, the old castle that was High-Waist and Low-Rise's hideout... it was what they call a citadel, but in a town that didn't exist.)

(A town that didn't exist... the scope of this story's gotten bigger. I see, I see. That's why they couldn't find the missing tourists no matter where they looked.)

(And why they couldn't find the hideout. The style is different, but was it what you call a “barrier”?)

(If they controlled an entire citadel, then they must've been pretty important vampires. They're bound by silly names like 'High-Waist' and 'Low-Rise', but I certainly understand why dealing with them was delayed—it was really for the sake of conservation.)

(Like how they wanted to conserve Shinobu-chan?)

(Hah hah. Shinobu-chan in her prime could've controlled an entire country, not just a city. So, the vampire twins' hideout would only materialize when they brought kidnapped humans inside? Understood. That'd stymie a specialist like Dramaturgie. Unless he used a decoy or bait, that is.)

(Would you use a different method, Oshino-san?)

(I'm fundamentally a negotiator, so my job would be to go between Dramaturgie and the vampire twins—my job would be to butt in. I'd be in the same position as you, Miss Class Rep. Although, I'm not so heroic as to volunteer myself as a decoy.)

(...I'm heroic?)

(Anyone can see that. But compared to spring break, you're still somewhat self-sacrificial, but not so single-mindedly devoted. You make a good impression. You just have an ulterior motive to obtain something you earnestly desire.)

Quite right.

Even if it were a big gamble, I'd embarked upon it precisely because I detected a chance of success—it certainly wasn't a barbarous act done in ignorance of cost-effectiveness.

Thinking of the dangerous situation Araragi-kun was currently in, what I was doing was completely within the bounds of safety.

(I don't think that's at all the case... But, we all place weight on things differently.)

(Indeed. Dramaturgie-san as well, I'm sure.)

However, I can't report that Dramaturgie-san and I won that gamble—we both wound up in a dungeon, what more can I say.

Can't say anything but 'I told you so'.

This is why gambling destroys your life.

It might not have been wise to make poor calculations and act according to probability—I can't say entirely for certain, but if we were gambling, it may have been easier to achieve victory with a desperate suicide attack like Araragi-kun might do.

Though, of course, this was a decoy operation planned strategically by Dramaturgie-san, who was not a professional gambler.

For the sake of his honor as a specialist, let me just say that it didn't go entirely wrong—until halfway, the plan was being carried out perfectly.

(Until halfway, huh. Wouldn't that mean, in other words, that it was half-baked?)

(That's harsh, Oshino-san...)

But there's an element of truth in that.

If the plan had failed completely, at least Dramaturgie-san and I wouldn't have been confined to a dungeon with no hope of escape—oddly enough, if it were the case that our strategy completely failed, we would likely have had an easier time reorganizing ourselves afterward.

It's like how they say a home partially destroyed by fire is nastier than one completely destroyed by fire—well, that theory does have a certain persuasiveness for someone whose house once burned down like me.

To explain from the beginning, the part of the plan in which I played a decoy went splendidly—a happy result, to use an odd expression(1). As a young traveler and a Japanese tourist, I successfully got kidnapped.

As I was walking carelessly down a remote road in the pitch black night, I encountered them—High-Waist and Low-Rise.

The two vampires.

I encountered the vampire twins.

(Hah hah. Araragi-kun would've said “walking carelessly and carefree,” wouldn't he?)(2)

(I was not walking carefree. I was quite nervous—skipping along would be out of the question. I was practically walking on tiptoe.)

And I surely am not Araragi-kun.

I didn't technically “encounter” them—I was caught in a pincer attack from the front and back.

I suddenly felt a presence behind me, and turning around, I found a golden-haired girl clothed in a dress so pitch black it dissolved into the night.

That golden hair immediately reminded me of Shinobu-chan, but I might not have needed to see her golden hair to tell she was an extraordinary presence.

The color of her eyes was red.

I suppose I could compare them to being bloodshot.

(Araragi-kun would've said “like Chiba prefecture,” don't you think?)(3)

(Even Araragi-kun wouldn't say that. Chiba doesn't have a “red” image, does it?)

(But that's because he'd call it the Bousou Peninsula, right?)(4)

(If you're going to keep making fun, I'll stop talking. This is a serious scene.)

Returning to the story.

Reflexively, I took evasive action.

Gazed at by those red eyes and utterly quavering in fear at the faint smile on her face, I instinctively prepared to run away—I nearly abandoned my role of getting kidnapped by the vampires.

I'm a complete amateur.

All I'd accumulated was information, and I wasn't suited for praxis at all—Ougi-chan would scoff at me.

I certainly won't say I got lucky, but as soon as I turned around instinctively to start running, my feet suddenly stopped.

It was a pincer attack.

In front of me, where a short while ago there had definitely been nobody there, a blonde, red-eyed non-existence had come into being—standing in my way.

Like a wall.

Blocking my way.

In counterpoint to the vampire in the pitch-black dress behind me, the vampire in front of me was wearing a pure white tuxedo.

With a smart bow tie.

Smiling thinly, gazing at me with eyes that really did look bloodshot.

A smile thin as a knife.

(I see. The twins were a man and a woman? All the more unusual.)

(Well, thinking about it now, I honestly can't assert whether they were men or women... I'll call them “she” and “he” for convenience, but I couldn't really judge their sexes. They were both so very beautiful—as if they'd transcended sex itself.)

(Hmph. That's not all that unusual for oddities. All you need to do is observe their division of roles.)

(Division of roles?)

(Assigning themselves to be male or female... Even in a community of two, you can see there's a certain social sense about it. Very interesting.)

(Social sense... Perhaps. If so, it's a completely different mode of being from Shinobu-chan.)

They looked like teenage girls and boys not so different from me in age, but a vampire's appearance holds little meaning.

The important part is how they are on the inside.

The difficulty lies in how they are on the inside.

Even if they're not five hundred or six hundred years old like Shinobu-chan, I'm sure they've lived much longer than their looks would lead you to imagine.

Afterward, I truly realized that.

Following what Dramaturgie-san told me, the girl in the dissolving dress was High-Waist, and the boy in the bright white tuxedo was Low-Rise; but that distinction didn't seem to be very consequential.

They had successfully taken positions point-reflected from each other with me as the center—I could only see the two of them as forming a single body.

Surrounded by four red eyes.

Trapped by four red eyes.

Caught in the glare of twin vampires from the front and behind.

As if I was rooted to the spot, I couldn't move an inch—I couldn't even tremble in fear.

Although, I'm uncertain exactly how accurate it is to describe the twins as staring or glaring at me.

It seemed like their gaze was actually passing right through me, and they could only see each other.

Only Low-Rise for High-Waist.

Only High-Waist for Low-Rise.

I don't think they could see me—despite being in their line of sight, it felt like I was being completely ignored.

Well, you might say being ignored in that situation would be the best I could hope for, but of course, it didn't last—after that, I got carried off.

All according to plan.(5)

But that's as far as it went according to plan.

[Next Chapter]

Footnotes: (1) The expression used for “happy result” here is 上首尾 (joushubi), which literally means something like “upper, between neck and tail”. (2) Careless (lit. un-vigilant) (無警戒) is pronounced mukeikai, and carefree (lit. jaunty/casual) (軽快) is pronounced keikai. (3) Referring to Chiba prefecture in Kanto. “Bloodshot” is 血走っている, pronounced chibashitteiru. (4) A peninsula that makes up much of Chiba. (5) “Plan” means 計画 (keikaku).

[hishotandhaywireheart]

Survey from Esther~

1: 6 of the songs you listen to most? Janina Gavankar - Don't Look Down The Irrepressibles - Two Men In Love The Irrepressibles - The Arrow Flor - Warm Blood Shearwater - Animal Life Bastille - Laura Palmer 2: If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be? I'm overwhelmed by this question and can't pick a single answer, sorry lol. This is like asking me what my favorite Pokémon is. 3: Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17. I'm in a dog boarding facility's kitchen at the moment, no books in sight, I'm afraid. But I am reading the first book of the Raven Cycle series in audio form, if that helps 4: What do you think about most? What a question. Art? Animals? 5: What does your latest text message from someone else say? It's my boyfriend saying he's going to sleep :3 6: Do you sleep with or without clothes on? *Gamagoori voice* I sleep in the nude 7: What’s your strangest talent? Even though I am not a smoker [unless you count a couple of hookahs per year], I can tell the brand of a cigarette by the smell of the smoke. The smell on someone's clothes, I know immediately what brand it is. Mixture of childhood exposure, sensory sensitivity, and the jobs I've worked lol. 8: Girls… (finish the sentence); Boys… (finish the sentence) Girls are powerful. Boys are powerful. 9: Ever had a poem or song written about you? I dunno. Maybe? 10: When is the last time you played the air guitar? Uhh. Not a thing that occurs to me to do, to be honest lol 11: Do you have any strange phobias? Big phobia of hypodermic needles, or generally anything like a splinter, tiny shard of glass or hook getting underneath my skin. Phobic of getting pregnant. I guess those are weird. 12: Ever stuck a foreign object up your nose? Uhhh probably? 13: What’s your religion? What a complicated question lol. Simple answer: I'm pagan. But there is literally nothing simple about my endless thoughts about spirituality 14: If you are outside, what are you most likely doing? Taking a walk in the woods, or sitting by a stream or body of water [water sources are especially sacred parts of nature for me] 15: Do you prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it? Both. But I love taking photos and nobody really takes any photos of me. So I guess behind. Especially when it's behind a Polaroid. 16: Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band? Shearwater. Honorable mention to the Irrepressibles. 17: What was the last lie you told? Fuck if I know 18: Do you believe in karma? Not really. But as always I believe in the awesome power of the brain. 19: What does your URL mean? It's my name with "Irrepressible" after it, in the style of Jamie Irrepressible, the vocalist of, well, you can probably guess which band. 20: What is your greatest weakness; your greatest strength? Weakness - I'm extremely prone to gaslighting and self doubt about my own reality. Strength - I might not be a fan of abrupt change, but I am very adaptable, given time to adjust. 21: Who is your celebrity crush? None 22: Have you ever gone skinny dipping? No, sadly. Remember what I said about my irrational fear of stepping on hooks or sharp objects? Interferes with my sacred need to swim in every lake I see. 23: How do you vent your anger? Ideally, art. Drawing, writing, even recording myself ranting to my microphone about it. 24: Do you have a collection of anything? I collect retro Pokémon merchandise and certain old video games. :> this makes me sound like a massive genwunner but rest assured, it's just an Aesthetic™ 25: Do you prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online? Text, to be honest. Us auties generally do better communicating in text based media. Skype calls are useful at times but I've always found them too awkward with delays and such to use reliably. 26: Are you happy with the person you’ve become? Hmmm. Tentatively, yes? 27: What’s a sound you hate; sound you love? Sound I hate: male voices shouting. Sound I love: music bouncing off walls and becoming ethereal and far away. 28: What’s your biggest “what if”? What if I don't understand what this question is asking me? 29: Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens? Ghosts, no. I talk about them a lot though because the idea of them is dear and important to me, but literally, no, I have no belief in some vaporized version of your personality that goes on after death. Aliens, I assume are a matter of inevitability. But I don't believe we will probably ever find or meet them in the foreseeable future. Humans think they are much more fascinating than they actually are. Aliens are not crawling all over themselves to build technology just to come fly over to our house and meet us. Sry 30: Stick your right arm out; what do you touch first? Do the same with your left arm. Air both times lol 31: Smell the air. What do you smell? The heat coming on at work because morning is here. Faint dog poop smell. Gonna have to tidy that up lol 32: What’s the worst place you have ever been to? Buttfuck nowhere, West Virginia 33: Choose: East Coast or West Coast? East Coast, if we're talking america 34: Most attractive singer of your opposite gender? I don't have an opposite gender 35: To you, what is the meaning of life? To create something meaningful and beautiful, and to enjoy myself to the fullest while helping others whenever possible 36: Define Art. If it makes you think about whether or not it's art, then it's art. 37: Do you believe in luck? Uhh. Like as an actual outside force that decides whether good or bad stuff will happen to me, no. 38: What’s the weather like right now? Coldddd 39: What time is it? 6 am. Time to get off work! 40: Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed? Yes, I drive, don't love it but glad I am able. No, but I did run over a bin once 41: What was the last book you read? A book about the history of heterosexuality as a concept, fascinating read actually 42: Do you like the smell of gasoline? As a kid I liked it but it's kinda gross now 43: Do you have any nicknames? Many 44: What was the last film you saw? Can't remember a film rn but I am currently watching The Story Of Film which I CANNOT recommend enough, it is a documentary series about, well, the history of cinema and even if you don't care about movie making... It will absorb you completely and make you not only care but be totally fascinated. I adore it. 45: What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had? You know, I've been really lucky. Never broken bone or needed stitches or even like, been to the hospital, lol. I think I chipped my shin bone on a brick stair once. And a couple years ago I missed a stair going down and sprained my ankle, and my work refused to let me spend any time off my feet so I was crying from pain in front of customers lol. But it healed fast once I had a brace. No problem. 46: Have you ever caught a butterfly? I dunno. I was taught as a child that if you touch their wing dust even a little, they will lose their flight and die. So probably I haven't. Even though I now know this isn't quite true. 47: Do you have any obsessions right now? The Story of Film, some bands, getting sucked back deep into my lifelong love Pokémon again lol 48: What’s your sexual orientation? Pansexual, or: Why Are Gender And Genital Shape Our Main Social Indicator Of Romantic Or Sexual Preferences, Of All Things, That's Really Weird And I Can't Relate, Please Save Me From This Bizarro World 49: Ever had a rumour spread about you? Oh yes, plenty back in school 50: Do you believe in magic? Ahh. I believe in the power of will. I believe in the ability to make your own life full of magic via willpower. I believe in the harmless use of willpower to try and cause a change in your environment. I believe the force exercised by children known dismissively as "imagination" have incredible power to influence the mind and soul. I have no belief in a metaphysical force in the universe called "magic" that could describe basically anything and everything unknown to current science. If you ask me flat-out, I will say yes, I believe in magic. But this is more of what I mean. I don't believe in "magic", except that I do. Adamantly. 51: Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong? I do not tend to forget. Forgive is a matter of situation. But I don't forget. And I am quite the talented ice prince when it comes to freezing someone entirely out of my life. This includes immediate family. I only speak to my little sister out of my entire family. 52: What is your astrological sign? Taurus-Gemini cusp! 53: Do you save money or spend it? Spend :T 54: What’s the last thing you purchased? Bread, milk and a couple very cheap, very pink, very glittery nail polishes. My weakness. 55: Love or lust? Yes. 56: In a relationship? Yep 57: How many relationships have you had? Uhh... Many? Serious, deep romantic relationships, which I suspect is your real question: three. 58: Can you touch your nose with your tongue? Nope 59: Where were you yesterday? Home, and briefly out at the store. 60: Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you? My nails are pink and glittery. 61: Are you wearing socks right now? Yep. I wear two pairs to work because my super comfy work shoes are just the tiniest bit too big. 62: What’s your favourite animal? You asked the impossible question. Today, your answer is: praying mantis. Specifically praying mantis godmothers. Ask me again in two hours for an entirely different answer. 63: What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you? Sorry, too socially awkward for this prompt 64: Where is your best friend? In bed, it is very late and/or early. 65: Give me your top 5 favourite blogs on Tumblr. Don't really have favorites? Just people and stuff I like. 66: What is your heritage? Whitey white. Scots Irish, English, a bit of German, and like everything else you can expect from a family that's been in America about as long as a white devil could possibly be. My mother is a hobbyist genealogist, so this isn't just typical white folks bullshit, I'm vaguely more educated on my roots. I am in fact a distant cousin of notable American politician of the 19th century, Henry Clay. 67: What were you doing last night at 12AM? Playing Pokémon Blue! Beating the game for literally the first time ever! 68: What do you think is Satan’s last name? Uh. Um. Oh god, I don't know lmao 69: Be honest. Ever gotten yourself off? Yes, everyone has, normalize it 70: Are you the kind of friend you would want to have as a friend? Hmmm. Yes. 71: You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do? Lose my job bitches, and maybe hope to go viral and boost my chances of getting a new job for doing this thing lol 72: You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid? A-Maybe. At least a few people. B-Travel, make good art, write my will, get my affairs in order. C- Yes, for a while. 73: You can only have one of these things; trust or love. Trust obvs 74: What’s a song that always makes you happy when you hear it? Many. First one that comes to mind is Empire by Jukebox the Ghost 75: What are the last four digits in your cell phone number? Nope 76: In your opinion, what makes a great relationship? Being best friends and trying to understand one another and willing to be open and honest, no ego in the way 77: How can I win your heart? Buy me sushi. 78: Can insanity bring on more creativity? Yes. 79: What is the single best decision you have made in your life so far? To not have children. 80: What size shoes do you wear? American size seven in men's, nine in women's. Sometimes half a size up or down. 81: What would you want to be written on your tombstone? No idea. I should get thinking on that. 82: What is your favourite word? Don't really have one favorite tbh 83: Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word; heart. Glowing lights, core imagery 84: What is a saying you say a lot? Hell yeah 85: What’s the last song you listened to? Maxiimo Park - Going Missing 86: Basic question; what’s your favourite colour/colours? Long story short: indigo. 87: What is your current desktop picture? Some Pokémon, I forget which. 88: If you could press a button and make anyone in the world instantaneously explode, who would it be? A random white supremacist, maybe, but honestly, I probably wouldn't press it 89: What would be a question you’d be afraid to tell the truth on? No idea rn 90: One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren’t really doing anything, they’re just standing around your bed. What do you do? I'd be quite disturbed because I cut my teeth on Ocarina of Time and was very creeped out by ReDeads 91: You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What is that power? Shapeshifting. Always my answer. Covers being an animal, or being a child, or flying, or swimming. 92: You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again? First thought is a marching band performance from high school. Second thought is back in that car in the vast moonlit Utah desert. 93: You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be? Bad math teachers. Gave me a complex about math and didn't improve me as a person in any way like most of the others did. 94: You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who would it be? No interest 95: You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go? Japan motherfuckers 96: Do you have any relatives in jail? Not that I'm aware of but I couldn't care less tbh 97: Have you ever thrown up in the car? If I have, I must have been very small. 98: Ever been on a plane? Yep, just twice. 99: If the whole world were listening to you right now, what would you say? If they actually absorbed what I had to say? Love yourselves. Love each other. Endeavor to understand each other. Try to figure out what you were taught wrong about yourself and your fellow humans, and unlearn those things. Embrace humanity in all its diversity. Open up and be vulnerable.

[jacewilliams1]

Lost over Russia in an aerobatic airplane

Winter 1993, Russia (57 degrees North). It is minus 4 degrees Fahrenheit in this foreign land north of Moscow. I am sitting in a single-seat, Russian Sukhoi 26 at the end of an ice-covered runway waiting to be cleared for takeoff. There is a lot going through my mind. First of all, I have never flown a single-seat Sukhoi 26. Also, my luggage did not show up at Sheremetyevo International Airport and I do not have my winter flying gear that I had planned to use.

I was already very cold; there is no heater in a Sukhoi. I also know the Russian team pilots will be watching and judging my every move. I didn’t want to embarrass myself; it was quite possible I would be competing against some of them in the future.

We had arrived the night before; driven here over snow-packed, ice-covered, dark and desolate roads to this former MiG 17 air base along the Volga River. Borky Air Base is located near the forbidden city of Dubna, home of a nuclear scientific research facility.

The morning was spent in an unheated shed near the flightline having our pre-flight briefing. Inside, the benches and tables were covered in frost. There was a large wood-burning heater in the briefing room, but for some reason it was not being used. The nearest bathroom was a wooden outhouse nearby. A little further away, the four-story barracks were used for housing the Russian aerobatic team pilots, technicians, Kassum Nashmudinov, my father and me. This was their first training camp of the year and we were invited to participate.

The Sukhoi Su-26 has one seat, which means checkouts are an independent exercise.

There were no hangars for the aircraft at Borky. It was so beautiful the way the Sukhois sat outside in the frigid conditions with engine covers secured over the cowlings. I could look out the window of my room and see them lined up on the ice with snow blowing across them.

In the morning I would wake up to the sound of four Sukhois, a Yak-52 and a Yak 55, engines running and warming up on the flightline. The wheel chocks are specifically made for these icy conditions, with deep spikes holding the aircraft in place. When I got to Borky, I was told I could fly the Yaks as much as I wanted. During my three weeks at camp, I only flew each Yak once.

That morning, we were briefed on the weather, runway conditions and order of flight. There were four aerobatic zones in use. The primary aerobatic box was located over the only runway (mostly used for their top competition pilots) and used for one-on-one critiquing by Kassum, the team coach/manager. Kassum is a former MiG-17 fighter pilot and a peer of the first man in space, Yuri Gagarin.

There were also zones 1 through 3, all nearby the airbase. Many times several zones would be in use. The sound of multiple 360hp, nine-cylinder, supercharged radial engines could be heard at full power piercing the dense, frigid air. Sukhois were taxiing in and out and others warming up preparing for a flight. It was constant motion of noise and activity on the flightline.

Each flight was scheduled to last 15 minutes from takeoff to touchdown. Warming up the engine took time. When the cylinder and oil temperatures were achieved and preflight completed, I would radio to Kassum in the mobile control tower, a converted two-decker bus with a 360 degree viewing area on top. Kassum didn’t speak fluent English so I had to be very clear and direct. I would transmit, “Matt, takeoff.” On this day Kassum said, “Matt, takeoff, zone three.”

That’s when I knew where I was to practice. Pilots were rotating in and out of the Sukhois as fast as the ground crews could turn them. There were usually two guys to prep each plane between fights. One would help me into the cockpit, assist in buckling the parachute, putting on the five-point harness and plugging in my flight helmet. The other technician would check the oil, look over the aircraft and clean the engine oil off the canopy; they worked hard in these brutal conditions.

A fuel truck would drive up and add fuel. Everyone had their jobs. In the snow, ice and wind the turnaround times varied. One day the conditions were so bad the ground crews had to hold onto our wing tips to keep the plane from running into the snow banks as we taxied out to the runway. A few times a pilot would have to suddenly shut down the engine just prior to running into one, avoiding damage to the propeller and engine. On the ice-covered taxiway, the bakes and rudder were no match against the strong, gusty crosswind.

I lined up the Sukhoi on the runway, locked the tail wheel in place, opened the gills that control the cylinder temperature and immediately applied full power before the engine had time to cool. I stayed low to keep under the box. Once clear, I turned for zone three just on the other side of the Volga River.

The Sukhoi 26 has 17 gallons of usable fuel. At full power, you are burning nearly 40 gallons per hour. There is a seven-liter light on the instrument panel. When that light comes on, you have seven minutes of fuel remaining until the engine quit. The Sukhoi was designed for one purpose: to win World Aerobatic Championship competitions.

The competition was fierce in Russia, including from Svetlana Kapanina – a future 8-time champion.

After takeoff, I realized there was a total winter whiteout. The Volga was frozen and snow covered. The surrounding area was thick, deep forest. It was difficult to see the airport in all the snow and ice.

Once established in zone three, I started with my roll exercises to warm up. Ninety degree roll left to knife edge, 3⁄4 roll right to inverted, 3⁄4 left to knife edge then 90 degrees right to level flight. I did this several times, keeping the airport in sight the entire time.

Next were rolls on the vertical line, up and down. There was a low, gray overcast that only intensified the whiteout conditions. There was really no discernable horizon. The Sukhoi has an incredible roll rate, with huge, effective, full span ailerons. I pulled about six Gs to the vertical and performed a full roll to the right.

At the top of the line, I hammerhead pivoted the plane back to the vertical down line and did several rolls and pulled out to a level flight. My blood was pumping through my veins with all the G’s and excitement from the Sukhoi performance. This was what I came all this way to do.

I looked around to find the airbase to keep my bearings before I started another series of maneuvers. I began a tight 360 turn to stay over my current location and to stay within my zone. I did not recognize anything and couldn’t tell north from south. As I circled, I pulled the power back to save fuel. All I wanted to do now was find the base and land. The Sukhoi does have a compass (its only nav aid); however, it really doesn’t work well. It spins on its axis and the engine RPM determines how fast it spins. It was no help at all. 

I decided not to wander off and look for Borky. I just stayed where I was orbiting, hoping to find something that looked familiar. If I wasn’t back in 15 minutes, I thought Kassum might send someone up to look for me and lead me back. But after a few minutes, I started to pick out the banks of the Volga so I headed in that direction and once I was there I was able to see the air base.

Kassum cleared me to land. I landed long and fast on the ice-covered runway, not my best performance in front of these world-class pilots. As I pulled in line to park, a few of the Russian pilots asked me if there was a problem with the plane because I was only airborne nine minutes. It’s interesting what can go through your mind in just nine minutes.

From that point on, when it was time to take off, I heard Kassum’s voice, “Matt, box!” 

Postscript supplied by author:

In February, 1993 Matt spent three weeks at Borky Airbase, Russia with his father John. They flew three time a day in the Sukhoi 26 when the weather allowed. They always flew in the box.

In attendance:

(Then 17 year old student) Svetlana Kapanina (now an eight-time Female World Champion); Natalja Sergeeva (Female World Champion 1990); Elena Klimovich; Alexander (Sasha) Ljubarets; Nikolay Nikitjuk (three-time European Champion).

Best Sukhoi pilot I ever saw: Nikolay Timofeev

Viktor Smolin (overall World Champion)

Viktor Chmal (overall World Champion)

Alla Tchekalova

On the final day, after all the other pilots had left, John and Matt spent the day flying three low level formation aerobatic flights in the box. “We sat in our individual SU-26 cockpits between flights to get enough fuel and oil to take off again.” The ice was melting and the sun was coming out. “I will always remember being inverted on top of a loop, just six feet from my father’s wing with the Volga framed in the background.” That night Nikolay Nikitjuk made dinner for me, my father and Kassum. It was our last night at Borky.

In 1995, Matt and John competed in the first Advanced Aerobatic Championship in Cape Town, South Africa. Several of the Russian pilots at that camp were in attendance.

The post Lost over Russia in an aerobatic airplane appeared first on Air Facts Journal.

from Engineering Blog https://airfactsjournal.com/2019/04/lost-over-russia-in-an-aerobatic-airplane/

[hotcocosharing]

Glory Days Part 24 (IM RP AU- Shun & Midi)

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 / 19 / 20 / 21 / 22 / 23

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Toshiaki’s POV There’s no doubt in my mind at all I want to do is comfort Eri like she deserves - but I’m hesitant in being unsure of how to showcase my true intentions. Do I like this girl? I think so. Do I regret the kiss we shared? No. Can we at least be friends? I wouldn’t want to lose her. Do I care at the fact her makeup is ruined? Not at all but I’m hoping to respect her wishes. The gentle sounds of sobbing and tears falling cause my heart to clench. My stomach starts to twist and churn uncomfortably. I can tell that everything she’s spilt out has been harder than she expected which makes me bite my tongue at the fact I want to be sure that any word which comes from me is thought about - proper - caring. “Look… I..”, I manage to pathetically get out after scratching the back of my neck; my hand slowly finding it’s way to her back where I rub gently between Eri’s shoulders; afraid that the touch may break her. “Friends I can do - I mean… you’re, you’re a special girl from what I’ve learnt about you so far and it would be a shame to lose you.” Just as  I exhale about to further explain, or better still trip over my own words and fall into a web of awkwardness that I’ll strangle myself with, Eriko’s name is called out by an unfamiliar voice which follows a knock at her door. “Should I—-”, I enquire yet Eri seems to have already bet me to what I was about to say, pushing herself up onto her feet to rush straight over and half hide behind the door as she opens it; allowing me to catch a glimpse of someone I haven’t seen before standing on the other side. Rikiya’s POV On my way over; the simple thought of Eri I just couldn’t shake - was she ignoring me because she didn’t want to see me? Was what Shinichi mentioned true? Her father wasn’t fond of me? Kicking at the ground during my walk after I was able to weasel an address out of my friend who just didn’t seem to even want to give in to the slight begging I was prepared to lower myself down to - frustration pulsed through my every nerve unsure of what would happen; what could happen - what I should think or do. Stopping a few times across the college campus I wasn’t entirely familiar with, I snapped and broke  a few flowers, mostly roses and lavender which formed a bright red and purple pretty bouquet. It wasn’t much, but even the thought of giving flowers to a girl made me blush. Arriving at the address I was given, it’s a swift knock at the door which comes out a little more overconfident than expected as I call out the name of the girl who’s been consuming my thoughts for the last few days. “Eri!” Within seconds the door is answered and I can sense the animosity of which I’m about to step into. There’s another guy in her apartment already - my back straightens a little at the idea of another man consuming her attention but I try not to let it get to me. He’s possibly just a friend. He’s possibly more. Maybe someone she’s known for a lifetime. I don’t know and I don’t plan on jumping to conclusions like most people do. “I’ll give you two some space but, Eri - text me the details for this charity ball you mentioned earlier.” The words and not so subtle way of fleeing without a goodbye from the other guy causes my face to contort with a half scowl and half eyebrow raise as he slips his way out past me. Everything seems to have overwhelmed the younger girl and caused her to spill her emotions out in silent sobs which instantly kick in some kind of protective instinct I have; dropping the flowers I collected onto the small table by the front door, and as hesitant as Eri seems to want to play and be, eventually pulling her into my chest. “You ok?” Unintentionally what I saw seems to make her sob a little and my hold around her tightens as she buries her face into my chest. “Why are you crying babe? You’re going to ruin that beautiful face of yours.” Stepping back to create some space between us; I crouch down a little to look at her face to face and wipe her eyes dry. No tears will be falling on my watch - unless of course they’re tears of joy. “Babe - what happened? Am I hurting someone? Was it the guy who just left? I swear - if he hurt you.” Eri’s reaction is further fueled by sobs and whimpers and eventually the smallest chuckle that she tries to hide. Rubbing his back and playing with the ends of her hair, I whisper that I’m here for her and that she doesn’t have to talk until she’s ready. Whether it took 15 minutes, 15 hours of 15 days I’d be more than willing to wait.

Shunichiro'a POV

After being in my arms for more or less half an hour, Midori and I eventually head back to her dorm where Eriko and Toshiaki are nowhere to be found. Midi has ordered me to wait on the couch while she goes change, a quiet tune hangs in the air as she hums quietly. She’s excited and this makes me excited too and a bit nervous. Wiggling in the couch, the scent of flowers drifts past my nose and I smile when she stands shyly in front of me with a mini yellow dress.

“I hope this is okay,” she says quietly.

“Fits you perfectly.” The feel of her nervous breath against my skin makes me grins, next we’re out the door and everything else happens in a flurry.

Her mess of dark hair being played with, fingers hesitating and trembling as they gently brush across her smooth cheeks and shoulder. I keep fidgeting in my seat, closing the gap between us and pushing myself onto Midori’s sweet tasting lips. I never realize how much I longed for this simple contact that’s filled with such innocence, one not yet stained by lust or desire.

Midori has been blushing this whole time, I could feel her cheeks burn up and it only results me to scoot closer with more kisses till our food eventually arrive and interrupt our inseparable bond.

It’s a little after seven, and on a Thursday night no less, the place is still packed. Mostly patrons surrounding the bar and few couples by the window seats. It never ceases to amaze me how passionate Midi is when it comes to food, dessert, pizza and beer that’s all it takes to crack a smile from my girl. “I’m so glad you two drop by the library,” I chuckle as Midi takes a big bite on her pizza, sighing dreamily (over a pizza!)

“Oh me too.” She replies with her mouth full and quickly covers her lips, “I hope things work out in their end too.”

I nod, knowing that’s easier said than done. Eriko may want to change but changing the fundamental is almost impossible or else life lesson itself wouldn’t be that valuable. Most important of all, Toshiaki has experience enough pain for a life time, once was quite enough.

“I can’t believe we almost blow this over.”

And that’s when Midi pauses, almost hesitantly puts her food down and cups my cheeks in her shaky palms. Now, my heart literally fly to the moon and back, and swell up so much in my chest like it would burst any second.

Losing myself completely in Midori’s grip, everything replay in slow motion- how we met; the awkward double date; her overly drunken (but very sexy) state; our first fight and now here we are.

There is no rush. It feels natural, like she and I are meant to be.

“So Midori, would you be my girlfriend?”

Eriko’s POV

It’s definitely taken more than 15 minutes for me to calm down, I take a deep breath as the last of my tears dried up. Rikiya has been a sweetheart, listening to my hysterical crying and sobbing over another guy. I couldn’t quite recall my exact words but they surely wouldn’t be nice for him to hear with something along the lines of:

“He doesn’t want me.”

“He hates me, he must hate me more now.”

“He kissed me, I poured my heart out and he didn’t even tell me how he feels. Friends, he could do friends?”

“I’m soooo stupid!!! I’m just some dirty slut ..”

“STOP! ERI!”

A warm gentle touch on my cheeks is seriously dangerous, Rikiya’s caring tone and intoxicating scent is far too tempting for me to handle. He deserves better, so does Toshiaki, they all do. People like me don’t get appreciated, we are disposable, replaceable and easily forgotten.

“Eri, don’t cry over a guy who doesn’t see the real you. You are perfect the way you are. It’s his lost, not yours.”

It would be so much easier to let go, to fall into a set of strong arms or being melted into sweet kisses and irresistible touches. Lust doesn’t solve it all but it could numb my pain, it would be so much easier and familiar yet I find myself stepping back, keeping distance and choose a hot bath over intimacy.

“Thanks for the flowers, they’re lovely.”

The distant calling of my name and not so gentle slaps on my cheeks bring me back to my senses, lying on the bathroom floor, looking at an extremely worried and breathless Rikiya, wait why am I naked again?

“Babe! Thank God, you’re okay! You scared the shit out of me! Eri, who fell asleep in the bath! That’s it princess, you are not leaving my sight!!”

In one swift motion, I’m lifted up and allowing myself to be lost in Rikiya’s arms. I’m tired, exhausted from crying. I hardly cry and I certainly don’t like wasting tears on men, draining my energy and pride over one guy is enough. It’s easier this way, to be cared, appreciated, spoiled and loved by Rikiya- the bad boy in everyone’s eyes but the knight in shining armour in mine.

For once, I’m sharing my bed with a guy who lays next to me all night long with only his arms wrapping around me, simply being here for me like he has promised.