#i’m simply not strong enough to deal with another flop post

[jojea]

She looked so pitiful — absolutely terrified.

[solcheeky]

our secret

summary: fratboy!donghyuck turns paperboy! when he needs some extra money for college stuff like textbooks. he thinks delivering way outside of campus will save face from being a measly paperboy, but little does he know, the front yard light he hits (and breaks) belongs to his significantly well off classmate... (3k)

warnings: strong language here and there genre: enemies to ..friends? a/n: I’ve merged these two requests together! meaning I have and haven’t included aspects of each, hope that’s okay! (2021 edit: hi I found this in my drafts from last year and idk why I never posted it so yeah, here we go)

“You’re late.” Your professor calls out as Donghyuck fails to sneak into lecture hall unnoticed

You sigh, you’d think he’d at least look ashamed to step foot into class at such a late time

You suppose with Lee Donghyuck, things were always different

The boy winces comically, inhaling between his teeth brazenly, and students stifle their laughter

Then with a simple raise of his hand, he gestures a flimsy ‘my bad’ and a ‘continue, continue’ before charmingly wiping the sweat off his brow and sitting in the empty seat saved by his friends

The professor frowns, “you’re late.” He repeats as if to encourage the young rebel to at least say something

“I’m Haechan,” the rebel says under his breath, flopping his backpack onto the desk, “not ‘late’” a sarcastic smile stretching his lips as his friends snicker at his dumb joke

You roll your eyes, he was unbelievable.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough.” The professor claps his hands. “And Mr. Late,” he emphasizes, “don’t think you’re getting away with anything.”

So he drops it on him like a bomb: “For the rest of this week, meet me in the office an hour before classes start.”

The grin on Donghyuck’s face immediately wipes off his face and his heart drops to his stomach

“Prof!” He whines back

Karma, you think. That’s what he gets for being so up his own ass

It wouldn’t kill him to wake up a little bit earlier. He relied so much on his ‘so loveable’ personality and popularity, you couldn’t stand it

If you even attempted to do half the things he got away with, you’d be expelled by now

You drop your pen and lean back into your seat with a sigh, you had no choice but to sit back and watch him waste valuable lesson time over this insolence

“You can’t do that!” Seriously, Donghyuck would do anything else other than doing extra hours in the morning

“And you can’t be late to my lectures all the time. What are you not getting here Mr. Late?”

“But I can’t.” Donghyuck immediately regrets saying that out loud like that; the vulnerability in his voice a little too close to home

“And, why not?” Your professor bounces back thankfully brushing past the genuine desperation in his students voice

The reason why not was something ‘Lee Haechan’ couldn’t say out loud. If he did, he’d lose everything

So instead, he sticks with his usual tongue-in-cheek mannerism, “because I don’t want to.”—A sneaky beat around the bush on his part because, little did everyone know, Lee Haechan, the star player and everyone’s favorite goofball, was a measly paperboy

Why?

Because he was dumb broke.

It was a job that required him waking up extra early to race around neighborhoods on his bike, something he had to do regardless rain or sun just tossing as many papers onto people's front porches,

Something he already was finding so much of a difficulty doing: racing to class and acting as if his muscles weren’t burning or the fabric under is backpack wasn’t drenched in sweat

But now this ‘meet me in the office an hour earlier than classes start’ bullshit

That would mean he’d have to wake up even earlier than he already did!

“Doesn’t matter if you don’t want to, you’re going to.” Is the last thing your professor says on that topic before swiftly moving on.

Oh to be born with a silver spoon in his mouth, is what he always thinks as he cycles his rounds in the wealthy neighborhood

If there was one thing he didn’t have, it was this. 

He looks at the blaringly affluent homes that surrounded him and heaves another sigh, the same road he rides every morning (and now this extra early morning) effortlessly reminding him of how absolutely poor his ass was

Grumbling under his breath in a tantrum about his professor in his head, he angrily hurls newspapers onto doorsteps

It was the fact that he had to deal with this at ungodly hours in the morning—as if this job wasn’t already enough

Donghyuck frustratedly hurls another newspaper, but this time around, it shoots straight into someone's front garden post light, knocking it over and completely disrupting the perfect order in which the other trail of foot lights were set in

What the heck?

Immediately, he hits the breaks, his tires screeching loudly in the quietness of the early morning

Profanities frantically leave his lips as he hurriedly drops his bike onto the sidewalk in a clatter, and runs ahead to see the damage he’s made

The lamp was perfectly struck to its side.

Well, that’s just great—he can’t afford college textbooks let alone the broken path lamp on some rich persons lawn

So, his first thoughts are to pull it back into the place, completely irrational, but it’s the only thing that runs through his mind when he’s on a time crunch to get off private property

Except, the damn thing is stuck; literally cemented into this lopsided tilt

Man, Donghyuck swears he could tug all day and it wouldn’t get back into place

It was like the universe was having fun being against him

You, on the other hand, were watching this boy struggle to fix your light back into place from the comfort of your window.

He looked ridiculously cute trying to tug that lamp back into place, curled almost into a ball in the middle of your lawn, his eyebrows sewn into a line of frustration and lips pursed

You knew he was your paperboy from the start of his laborious cycling trips, but did Donghyuck know he was delivering papers to his very own classmate every morning?

You guess not.

...Until now

You knock three times from behind the glass, successfully capturing the boy's attention before mouthing, “what are you doing?”

The agitation on his features drops and immediately his eyes widen at your familiar face

Except, he isn’t given much time to reply before the lamp between his fingers gives in to his weight and recoils back smacking him right in the nose

“Holy shit!” You forget you’re only in socks when you open your front door and race towards him

Donghyuck automatically drops the (now broken) piece of your lawn to cup his bruising face

“Ah- Fucking shit- Ow!” He bends forwards on his knees into the grass, forehead pressing into your lawn before he rocks back up again to scrunch a deep frown up towards the sky. “Jesus-”

“Are you okay?!” Dropping to your knees, you place a cautious hand to his back

“Yes.” He groans into his palms, rocking back down towards the grass again

He definitely wasn’t.

But he needed to get out of there quick; there’s no way he’d let you recognize him

Yeah, you weren’t that stupid.

“Let me see,” you carefully bring him up by his shoulders, your head leaning down towards his to see the damage

“No- Ow! Crap-”

“You’re bleeding!” You try to pry at his wrists but he rips away from your hands

That’s when Donghyuck finally looks up to scowl at you; a frown stitched hard into into his forehead, eyes watering, hair all ruffled, but most alarmingly—a scarlet ribbon of blood running down his wrists

“I’m okay.” He muffles into his hands.

And wow did he look like an idiot.

“Sorry about your-” 

“Jesus Hyuck, you’re not fooling anyone.”

The boy visibly stiffens at your choice of his name

“Haechan.” You quickly correct yourself

He gulps

You glance away

“Let’s just put an ice-pack on that.” Then you’re dragging him into your house

“Quit moving!” You dab a wet cloth across the cut above Donghyuck’s lip

“Well, it hurts.” He tries to complain without moving his mouth too much

You purse your lips and Donghyuck attempts to adjust the ice pack on his nose despite your warning

With a sigh, you take his wrist and bring his arm down to his lap, “Hyuck, if you keep-” you feel him stiffen under your touch. “Haechan.” You keep doing that. “Sorry.”

He just diverts his eyes elsewhere and mumbles, “It’s whatever.” under his breath

So, you bring your attention back to cleaning his cut, your cheeks heating up at the thought of how much of a creep you probably were by calling him by his old name

“I’m-”

“Y/n.” His voice was a little clearer this time, a soft frown on his face, “I remember.”

He kind of wished you didn’t though. This was so embarrassing.

You pull the cloth away from his reddening cheeks, that annoyed flustered look on his face pulling at the nostalgia in you

It was only natural to call him ‘Hyuck’ because you had been going to the same school as him for years

Ever since you were kids, through highschool and now somehow, still impossibly in college, you’ve been with him

You almost had every class with the loud idiot back when he was still ‘Donghyuck’

For as long as you could remember, he had always been the center of gravity in every class, his punchy personality and almost too friendly way of speaking easily giving him the ‘popular’ tag 

It made you have a bit of a crush on him when you were younger, but who didn’t? 

Now, you found him irritating. 

The only thought you had about him consisted of wishing he’d stop using his status to his advantage and just come to class right instead of wasting your lesson time

“Can I ask you something?” He dodges your hand for a second, eyes looking down as if to hide away his embarrassment 

“Sure,” you naturally reach forward again to dab his cut, but he stops you at the wrist

“Can you,” you lift your focus away from his lip to the slight grimace on his face, “not tell anyone about this?”

You blink at him, and a muscle works in his jaw

“Seriously, people can’t know about this.” 

But you simply pull your wrist out of his grip and go back to tending to his wound

You hadn’t told anyone since you’d found he was your paperboy, and that was weeks ago. So why was he so worked up?

Hadn’t the situation already called for it anyway? Who in their right mind would tell anyone after this? For you, it was obviously common courtesy

But before you can reply, he tilts his face into your line of vision. “Are you listening to me?” The frown on his face deepens and he instantly brings the ice pack in this hand over his face at the sudden pain through his nose

That attitude of his easily drove you crazy.

“That was a stupid question.” You give up on cleaning the blood on his lip and push the ice-pack deeper into his face, “if you used that stupid, egotistical brain of yours-”

“Ah! Ow- Ooow-”

“Maybe you’d realize I’ve never told anyone about your paper rounds before.”

“Ow!” He wrenches away from your frustrated grip, the look on his face just as annoyed as you. “You’re going to break my nose!” 

“You broke my yard lamp!”

He looks at you with a huff; a slight puff to his reddened cheeks, furrowed brows and tears ever so slightly brimming his eyes

If that lamp didn’t cost about five times the price of his bike he’d say something back.

You easily read that off his expression

“You don’t have to pay for it.” You start to pack up the first-aid kit you’d opened up on your coffee table just to not look at him in the eyes when you say that

As much as he irritated you, you weren’t that petty

“Really?” The genuine doubt in his face relaxing the annoyance in you a little

“Yeah.” Money wasn’t a problem for you, it was his attitude

But the casualness Donghyuck catches in your tone reminds him of the starkly different worlds you live in

So he musters it up within himself to at least show some kind of gratitude, “...Thanks.” 

And it’s almost inaudible when he says it under his breath like that

But you catch it as you pull a bandaid out of the box before you close it

“On one condition.” You turn to look at him dead in the eyes.

One of his brows slightly quirk up in interest

“Hand.”

He opens his palm to you and you purposely slap the bandaid into it.

“Stop coming late to class, you’re wasting everyone's time.”

Instantly, his jaw goes slack. 

Unable to say anything he stares as you rise from your seat in content, first aid kit in hand, before walking behind the sofa towards the kitchen

You didn’t have to say it like that.

He swings an elbow over the back of the couch, “Sorry for bringing you the paper every morning!” Maybe he was a little offended

You turn on your heels to face him, noticing the bandaid now crushed in the fist of the hand he had over the couch and ice-pack abandoned on the coffee table (the full glory of his bruising nose and cut lip on show)

“I said ‘don’t be late’ not ‘don’t bring me the paper’.” Then you disappear into the kitchen.

Donghyuck has to close his eyes for a second, exhaling a frustrated sigh before standing up in a huff and following your footsteps.

How could you say something so insensitive? Yeah, maybe he broke your lamp or whatever, but he tried to fix it!

And sure, he was sort of bleeding over your couch and used your ice pack, but he totally said thanks

“That’s just- You’re so,” He’s standing at the doorway by the time you’re done, bandaid still stuck in the frustrated grip of his hand

“So what, Hyuck?”

Seeing the all star, team favorite class clown crumble at the simple play of his old nickname made something in your stirr

“Insufferable.” 

You? Your lips turn up in amusement. He was the insufferable one, you almost scoff

“You and your big house, fancy first aid kit, stupid lamps on your lawn,” he takes a bold step forward at every reason until he’s one step to being chest to chest, “I’m just trying to do my job, and go to class.”

You look at him straight in the eyes. “Well, you’re hardly succeeding at either of those.”  

You...

Donghyuck runs his tongue across his inner cheek before biting down on his bottom lip in a brazen attempt to act unfazed by that fatal side comment

A coppery, metal taste pricks his tongue, and he realizes he’s reopened up the cut on his lip again

But that was the least of his worries. You had no idea what it was like being broke. If there was anything he didn’t have, it was everything you did. You probably couldn’t even fathom the type of shit he’s had to go through and even more so: hide.

The way you acted as if his biggest problem in life was as easy as brushing the dust of his shoulder just pissed him off.

“Have you ever thought of waking up earlier?” 

Ah, there it was again, Donghyuck wants to roll his eyes

“I sleep late.” He says dryly.

“Then sleep earlier.”

“I have other shit to do, like study.” 

“Then, manage your time better.” If he really wanted to ‘do his job’ and ‘get to class’, he could’ve done it by now.

He was always messing about with friends and organizing parties, stories spread around like wildfire on campus about the things he occupied himself with other than ‘having shit to do like studying’, you weren’t stupid

It was by the end of high school, when you began to see him as a person who valued himself with the amount of friends knew or the amount of partying he did

And at first you were mad that he had the things you never did, but seeing him easily get washed up by it all made you think maybe you didn’t need what he had

Now you figure his ego was so far up his ass he couldn’t even sit right—that’s probably why he couldn’t cycle to class on time

“And don’t use your bike, you’re clearly slow on it.” You tack on.

“I don’t even have a car!” He snaps back

He made you want to pull out your own hair. “Jeez, first this, then that, god Hyuck, you keep-”

“You say that as if it were so easy,” his words overlapping yours as you continue

“-making up so much bullshit because the only thing you really put effort into is your image,” Your words running over his too.

“-if I could get a car, don’t you think I’d have one already?”

“Then I’ll just take you!” That puts both of you to a stop.

“So, quit giving me stupid excuses to ruin my lectures every day.” If the things money could buy were what he needed, you had it

You snatch the bandaid out of his fist, rip it open and harshly stick it across his bottom lip. It was annoying to see him ignore it like that.

“You usually finish an hour before class right?” You frown up at him

Donghyuck opens his mouth then closes it again.

“Because if you reroute and make me the last house, I’ll take you with me by car.”

“What?” He manages to say. What the hell just happened?

a/n: okay so there was a lot more to the story and character development but it ran too long I had to cut it off bc I cba to edit lmao 

also I seemed to have gone way out of the request lines near the end my bad my bad, but I at least hope you’ve enjoyed it! thoughts???? a part 2?

[razorblade180]

Twin Snowflakes pt31: Final Days

Part 30<-

“You know I’ve always said this but believe me when I say that right now, I am tired of your shit.” Summer smashed ice trapping her left leg and ran through the forest, barely dodging Shiva’s frozen claws to the face. Her body quickly pivoted the opposite direction and Summer managed to stab the freak in the side.

“Agh, bitch!” Shiva shattered the tree, chucking a jagged piece of frozen wood like a spear that sent Summer flying back as it broke hitting her chest. “Don’t get cocky!” Shiva forges a crossbow of ice, unleashing a salvo of icicles.

Summer puts a glyph in front of her to absorb all the dust and fire a single arrow back. It cuts the air at breakneck speed but Shiva swats it away, shattering it. Summer bit down on her lip in frustration. Long range still wasn’t that effective, but close range was far worse. A row of glyphs formed between. Summer charged straight ahead.

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” Every step accelerated her.

“Pfft, you’re wasting energy!” Shiva charged as well. She brought her hands together and leaped, her body spinning parallel to the ground like a drill.

Summer smirked, “Wrong move.” Summer flipped the glyph up right in front of her. Shiva slammed right into it and the glyphs behind her were pressed against her back to sandwich her while the one below her feet raised her off the snowy ground. “Get fucked!” Summer moved all the glyphs she ran around Shiva to form a prison. Top, bottom, front, back, and all around; glyphs layered on one another.

Shiva growled angrily as Summer tried binding her limbs. Both arms flexed hard and her breath became cold enough to see. “LET ME OUT!!!!” Ice breath shot from her mouth that turned the glyphs blue.

Though durable, the glyphs started converting the dust and firing wildly in all directions. “SUMMER!!!”

The girl dove behind a tree as ice obliterated the area. Unnerved and exhausted, Summer watched in fear as Shiva raged. “So much power…” It was new for her to witness it firsthand. Her third day of training hasn’t given much info other than the depths of Shiva’s power. It was beginning to feel bottomless. At least Summer felt more comfortable here. Her stamina might actually be growing. Too bad it was still far from what she needed. It was time to call it a day.

Shiva tore the glyphs apart and she fell to the ground angrily. Her eyes spotted black clothing behind a tree fading away before she had time to act. “Tsk, running away again!?”

Summer walked into view. “Only an idiot wouldn’t cut their losses.”

“And only a fool flirts with their existence, so I guess you’re flopping in the middle. You’re not even as good as Nick and he doesn’t get to decide our meetups. Maybe he should be the one dealing with me?”

“I won’t let you near him.”

“Oh~ dummy, I’m always near him. Just like how you’re always below. I can see how he’s always tired. Aren’t twins supposed to split the problems, not dump them to one side?”

At this point Summer knew better than to listen. Just like Shiva knew how to keep her listening. Summer made the wise choice by simply looking away and leaving.

Shiva waved goodbye, “Better hope your fighters aren’t even half as strong as me, or else you might as well ring out!”

Summer opened her eyes to see the real world around her again. Like several times before, her body was covered in sweat and there wasn’t a part of her that wasn’t physically or mentally spent. She had gotten a rhythm down fortunately; managing not to lose track of time entirely as well as avoiding being too tired to get herself back home. She was in no rush to leave though. Laying on the ground for a while to compose herself had become a post training pastime.

“What does she know? I’m not deadweight.” She grumbled, upset at herself. Nick wasn’t perfect by any means and there were plenty of things she did way better. This was an absolute fact, yet… “He really is ahead of me.” Summer still felt the shame of losing composure during their exam. Not only was she the first to get knocked out, but Nick ended up beating the Paladin with summoning talents and fighting prowess beyond what either of them displayed. Sure he hasn’t done anything like that since, but the potential was clearly there. Meanwhile all she did was summon a gigas arm and create a massive ice wall that-”

“Hold on…” Summer sat up and looked at her right hand. Creating ice was nothing new. A silver lining about the incident years ago was the fact ice dust was at her fingertips, literally. However, that was a lot of ice, and it was thick enough to stop the Paladin from putting her in intensive care. Perhaps it was all the adrenaline and fear, but Summer didn’t remember feeling like her body was losing control when Shiva yelled that day. Her body…did it, no consequences or strings attached. Shiva wants this body to last but Summer never really thought about how Shiva gave her power without a hassle. Even healing and the burst of energy the day Veronica got knocked out, power was given without struggle. Wouldn’t that have been prime time to take control? Could she not do it? Why? All of these questions ran through her head but Summer had no intention of asking Shiva. For now anyways.

“Too bad I can’t use her powers scott free on command. Not without her getting chatty at least.” Summer stood up, gathered her things, and headed home. She couldn’t stop thinking about harnessing Diamond Dust instead of fighting against it like an infection. “If only…”

xxxx

With the final days of training coming to the end there was little time for rest. Atlas and Mantle had become packed with people anticipating the various battles, shows, and so on. While the numbers were never as big as the Vytal festival, it never failed to get close. Watching the youth of the world honing their skills would always be Remnant's greatest pastime.

Penny had plenty of things keeping her busy but always found time to keep everything on track; including the past few days caring for Veronica. They hadn’t spoken much, especially after the second day. Veronica had convinced Penny to convince Blake to send only Summer’s dress and the necessary materials over. Rest was important but so were deadlines. Penny made sure Veronica stuck to both by limiting her work time.

“Half an hour left.”

“Yeah yeah.” The designer said holding thread between her teeth. “Give me an extra hour and I might have this done.”

“You said the same thing yesterday. I thought you pride yourself in telling the truth?”

“I’m not lying. I’m being pleasantly optimistic.”

Penny let out a chuckle. Veronica’s mood seemed to improve with her time here. As well as her physical health. The cafeteria unfortunately is now waiting for a restock of ham and turkey. A small price for some but a tragedy for others.

“Any plans when the dress is finished? I was told you were participating in the cheer squad?”

“Who told ya that?”

“Harriet. She told me she sent you the routine to study and practice, but I haven’t seen you do that.”

“Of course. Can’t do handsprings in a laboratory.” Veronica spun the dress around to work on the neck. “I’ve practiced before I was here and I know I can do all the moves. When I’m off parole I will sneak in a little extra practice just in case.”

“You are not a prisoner Veronica. You are a patient.”

“Eh, up for debate.” Veronica stepped back from her work. “Hmmm Penny, let me borrow your body.”

“Ex…cuse me?”

“I wanna put the dress on you to see how it flows.I’d do it myself but your proportions are closer to Summer’s than mine. Which begs the question, what is the scientific adventure of being built with boobs? That’s a…choice.”

Penny cracked a smile and walked over. She witnessed Veronica’s semblance in action. “May I ask a request in exchange for this favor?” Penny saw the skepticism all over Vee’s face. “It’s not making you sign up for therapy.”

“Good. For a moment I thought you had gotten that bold. What is it. You’ve already made me take an in depth physical several times.”

“I would like for you to be honest with your feelings momentarily.”

“I am always hon-”

“Except when you lash out or criticize to avoid sensitive questions.”

Her ears fell. Veronica couldn’t even roll her eyes. “What’s your question?” Her tone was blunt, wanting to get this over with.

“Linking personalities to an individual's semblance is a common belief. Scientifically there’s several studies of how one influences the other and vice versa. It’s difficult not to apply that in your case.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing in this world can touch you if you don’t want it to. However, if you want to grab hold of something, anything, then you have to allow the world to do the same. In other words, you’d be vulnerable.”

Veronica crosses her arm, “I’m failing to hear a question.”

“Everyone has something in life they want to reach for, to feel. Be it materialistic or otherwise. Veronica, what is it you want to have in life?” Penny can see the look of confusion and apprehension spread across Veronica.

The girl put her arms down. “I…nobody has ever asked me that before.” Her eyes stared at the floor. Leave it to someone like Penny to ask questions Veronica had no idea how to answer. Her face tensed up, eyes narrowing.

Penny stepped closer, making the girl raise her head. “I don’t need an answer right away. Consider it food for thought.” She smiled. Penny slowly raised her hand, reaching for the top of the young girl's head. She nearly made it but hand went right through her. Veronica’s eyes held no anger, but no joy either.

“Please don’t do that again.” Her voice was even and calm as if those words had been rehearsed a thousand times.

Penny couldn’t hide her disappointment well. “I apologize. I did not mean to overstep.”

Veronica carefully swung the dress overhead and onto Penny while removing the lab clothes; all in one fluid motion. “You didn’t step anywhere I didn’t say you couldn’t, so don’t apologize.”

Penny watched this awkward girl fiddle around with the dress. She may have looked like Yang, but Penny could definitely see more of Blake internally. No wonder conversation was so hard. Oh well, baby steps.

xxxx

While some took a physical approach to training, Valerie was tackling the mental part. Ren had the girl sitting in the park under the tree meditating to the best of her ability. The occasional crinkle over her nose and eyebrow twitch was all he needed to see to immediately poke her forehead gently with a bow staff.

“Head empty.” The only consistent words he had spoken for about forty minutes.

“It is.” Valerie said for the hundredth time, “It’s also getting splinters.”

“If you were really meditating then you wouldn’t notice. Come on, you’re typically better at this. Must be a lot of stress.”

“Nick isn’t stressing me out.”

Ren smiled, “Who said anything about him?”

Her eyes opened in shock. Her nostrils flared, expelling and then taking in air before closing her eyes again.

“Val, open your eyes. Clearly you’re not gonna meditate this away.” He poked her again. Valerie grumbled and squinted like her mother whenever there wasn’t any food at home. “Okay let it out, rant.”

“I don’t have to rant.”

“The red and green petals around you say otherwise. Also…do I spy pink?”

Val felt like a tiny bomb went off in her chest. “Dad! You promise not to just look at my feelings without asking!” She huffed. Ren put his arm around her and she couldn’t help but fold hers like a kid. “It’s nosy.”

“Parents are supposed to be a bit nosy. Especially when a father has a daughter that won’t express her feelings.” He parted her hair. “We both know talking helps.”

All her thoughts finally blew up like a shaken soda. “I just don’t get why I’m the one being demonized here! All I wanted was space and yet even mom looked disappointed in me.”

“By no means is Nora disappointed. Fighting with Nick is never good because both of you clearly don’t want to upset one another.”

“He’s just so…look, I know I asked for space, but why wouldn’t I want to know he’s sick!? Then he starts making a scene in the hall and-”

“From what I heard, you were the one who approached him and then proceeded to shut him down after chewing him out.”

“He tried to make plans and I told him no.” She defended.

Ren raised a brow, “So it’s okay for you to set boundaries, then break them over being left out, and then try to create distance again?”

“N..no I- I just-” words escaped her. Valerie knew it was selfish on her part, but it was more than that. “It’s complicated.”

“Is it, or is Nick’s actions not the root of your frustrations? Be honest with me, do you like Nick?”

“Of course I like him!” She admitted easily, falling backwards onto the grass. “All his values inside and out, everyone knows Nicholas Schnee is a class act that anyone would be fortunate to have in their corner. He’s a walking gold star, a shining seal of approval…”

“And you think that overshadows yours.” Ren said with confidence. His assessment made Valerie sit up abruptly. Her eyes looked stunned and her lips quivered. “Don’t hold back with me.” Ren restated, “rant.”

Valerie threw her hands up, “Do you know how annoying it is to be told how lucky you are to know someone, when they have nothing to do with it!? I got myself on the student council. I worked hard to get put on a magazine. It’s not like Nick scored my winning touchdowns, won my matches, bought my gear, or did anything that didn’t involve me putting in work! He wouldn’t even be as good as a fighter without me! Our entire lives I’ve been at his or above his level in just about everything. He couldn’t even fight that Paladin without me at all, but he saves my ass one time and all the students-”

“So that’s it.” Ren interrupted.

“Huh?”

“Like you said, you’ve been ahead of him basically forever, however, Nick’s praise hasn’t magically started. He’s been admired just as long. What’s changed is the fact you care what those think and how they’ve linked you.”

“It was never this aggressive.” Valerie got a look that made it seem like she was crazy. “It wasn’t!”

In all his wisdom and experience, Ren could not believe teenagers haven’t changed at all. “Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you’re letting teenage gossip and peer pressure control your life. Jaune is an exceptional huntsman that’s worked hard to be where he is. Being married to Schnee doesn’t overshadow that to anyone that has common sense, and outlets that discredit him don’t matter.”

Valerie’s face turned red. “I didn’t say anything about marrying him.”

“And I was just giving the perfect example.” He flicked her forehead. “Are you thinking about m-”

“No! Just…no. It’s not even all about what people say. I’m doing this for myself. I can’t win my fights if I’m caught up in all his antics 24/7.”

“Just be sure you know why you want to win.” Ren spoke with nothing but concern. “I can’t make you go talk to him about your feelings, but I do think you owe him a proper apology at the very least. I bet this is still weighing on him.”

Valerie gripped the grass beside her. She did go to apologize. All she got was a cold shoulder and the view of Veronica all dolled up for the dinner reservation he originally planned for her. Rejection or not, Valerie couldn’t deny how upsetting that was for many reasons. It was like Veronica never missed an opportunity to sucker punch her.

“I doubt he’s as bothered as you might think.” Valerie didn’t need her dad’s semblance to know red petals had to be swirling around.

However, Ren saw no such thing. For all her frustration, blue was the only color that showered his daughter. Being seen for your merits was important and he didn’t want to devalue that desire of hers, but Ren knew pride left unchecked lead to nothing but nastiness. He never thought he’d miss the days where grimm were the biggest problem with no solution. Was he this troublesome for Nora? He’d have to ask later.

“Anything else you need to air out?”

“Besides actually oxygen, no. Can we run some drills? Right now I just wanna be strong and smash stuff.”

Ren kissed Valerie on the head and ruffled her hair. “Let’s smash things then.” He pulled her up to her feet and they started walking. “Hair is growing pretty fast. Do I get a visit from your younger years soon?”

Valerie laughed, “Haha! Sorry dad, getting it trimmed soon. But who knows? Maybe after fighting season is over.”

xxxx

As a child’s thunderous spirit found momentary ease, another was arching with untapped potential, literally. Golden currents of electricity crackled off Nick and danced across the ground. The suave young man had coated his clothes in burn marks. His hair was wet with sweat and every muscle he could imagine ached, twitching from his training.

Winter and Weiss watched their warrior from across the courtyard. Needless to say that Nick’s rapid improvement was both amazing, and a bit unexpected.

Winter cuffed her hand, “Take a break! You’ve earned it!” She yelled, watching him immediately kneel down with his sword still in hand. “He’s fired up.”

“No kidding. He still has a long way to go but I never imagined teaching past the fundamentals of time dilation. Doing it in the tournament isn’t practical at this rate and I’m certain he understands that.”

“Indeed, however, his improvement here has no doubt made everything he can already do much easier.”

Weiss nodded in agreement, “Too bad he’s antsy and won’t be satisfied with that.”

“He gets that from you.” Winter elbowed her sister, “Should I tell him to wrap things up today or do you want the honors?”

“Be my guest. I’ll cave and give him another hour.” Weiss said sheepishly.

Winter shook her head, “You spoil him.”

“And you don’t spoil Sparrow?”

“I…fair.” Winter knew when she was beat. “Nicholas! Let’s call it early today. At this point resting and subtle refinements is more valuable than improvement.”

The boy sprung up like a plant. “What!? But I’m not tired yet! I still have a solid hour left of nonstop focus!”

Winter looked at Weiss, who whistled as if she wasn’t paying attention or had anything to do with the situation. She looked back at Nick. “Bold claims like that need to be prepared for anything. If you truly have all that energy then you wouldn’t mind crossing blades, would you?” Winter drew her sword as a means of clever intimidation. However…

“A Schnee doesn’t speak lightly.” Nick raised his blade. “Ready for battle, Specialist Schnee.” He would not be deterred, and he could tell Winter didn’t expect such compliance.

The seasoned warrior cracked a smile, intrigued and proud of her Nephew’s resolve. “Don’t regret those words.”

Weiss felt a massive burst of wind hit her from Winter’s take off. Her hair hadn’t even fallen back down before her older sister was centimeters from Nick.

Winter smacked the side of his blade to spook him before pivoting around his backside to attack in earnest. As she prepared for a downward slash, a glyph appeared on Nicholas’s back. A human sized gigas blade shot straight out towards her face. Winter immediately leaned her body backwards, going into a one handed flip to avoid damage while gaining distance.

The glyph turned with Nick’s body as he faced her. It remained at the ready to cover his back while he himself took a crouching stance, his blade hand ready to swing while his free hand was upfront with his left foot.

“Why is your answer always a back attack?” He smiled with pride. It felt good to read an opponent. Of course she was quick enough to dodge his counter. He’d expect nothing less.

Winter spun a glyph behind her, “To make sure you’re paying attention.” Her body launched forward again with additional speed.

The gigas sword swung around to the front to meet her. Winter’s blade cleaved through with an upward slash, but doing so slowed her down just enough for Nick to handle the force of another swing down at him. Both hands gripped the hilt Mort Friode as it perfectly blocked Winter’s attack. The impact bounced her sword back up which left her body exposed.

Nick attempted to go for a quick thrust but Winter didn’t miss a beat. The fencing saber hidden within her main blade was quickly brought forth, allowing her to direct the oncoming attack into the ground at her feet. Sparks flew as the saber glided up Mort Froide’s edge towards Nick’s inner shoulder and face. It fell short of the mark however when the young man slid Winter back abruptly with a glyph he placed below her feet. Saber cut nothing but air as its momentum brought it pointing to the sky while Winter was pulled back within his range; Nick’s blade aimed to cross cut the left side of her ribs.

“I swear, this boy.” Winter immediately let her saber go, letting her palm face down as she made a glyph that summoned a beowulf paw that came crashing down on his blade. The blade in her right arm came down to hit his body that knelt down with his sword being pinned. The glyph under her vanished quickly and reappeared just as fast into another summon glyph by his side the shot a gigas blade straight into the air and colliding with her attack. Nick had let go of his sword and snatched her saber mid fall, but his arm was quickly grabbed by the second emerging paw of the grimm. The gigas blade fell out of reach along with Winter’s main sword getting knocked out of her hand from it.

“A commendable effort.” She praised, “But never go for an enemy’s weapon unless you are certain you can get away.” The grimm squeezed his forearm.

Nick winced, “Oh I did.” His left hand made a glyph under Morte Froide that channeled the lightning dust within, electrifying the summoning into nothing and freeing his arm. Nick pointed Winter’s own saber right between her eyes with his right hand while the gigas blade materialized in his left. By no means did Winter having no weapon leave her without options. If anything, it only brought her down closer to his level, and that was being generous. She made no sudden movements, only smirking as her eyes remained locked onto his.

“Color me impressed. Truly a fine display of your mind at work. However, you chose to point the tip of my blade at me instead of actually attacking. Concerned I wouldn’t dodge if you swung in earnest?”

“If you were going all out then instead of keeping close, I would’ve been eating several kinds of elements right now. Even now I’m sure you know how to move faster than I can strike. Testing my bladework?”

“Among other things. It will be with you first and foremost beyond anything else.” Winter slowly brought her left pointer finger to her face and pushed the saber aside, queuing Nick to relax. “Keep at it and I’ll gladly take you on with the best I have to offer. However, since you’re so motivated to continue training, I suppose we can focus on blade work for the rest of our time today. No more semblances. Think you can handle that?”

“Only one way to find out.”

Weiss watched her sister and son grin at one another before Winter retrieved both her weapons. “And I’m the one who spoils him?” She muttered. Though it was easy to see why Winter would indulge him, even if Nick had no clue himself. “Did you see that?” Weiss looked towards the courtyard entrance at Summer, who had been watching almost the entire scuffle.

Summer got closer until she stood beside her mother. “I saw, and it’s a bit annoying.” Her arms crossed, “How often does auntie underestimate a person? There was no follow up or counter coming up. Nick could’ve gotten a clean hit on her for once no question about it.”

“And you find that annoying?”

“Of course! It’s an opportunity gone. I would’ve gone for it.” For as cunning as her brother was, there was such a thing as over analyzing. “Nick might actually land more hits in general against people if he followed through on attacks believing they’d all hit.”

“Meanwhile you could stand to think a little more. At least in a flexible sense.” Weiss pinched her daughter’s cheek, “Plans fall apart and change. Freezing up because of it is costly but you know that by now.”

Summer pouted, “Unfortunately.” Her eyes studied her brother. The way he moved like a skater even in a battle was truly a sight to behold. Spinning into slashes, ducking low before coming up high while remaining steady; his feet never seemed out of place even though they were always moving. Not to mention how Nick learned to use his blade from almost any angle. “Where does he find the energy?”

“Practice makes perfect, but yeah, it’s definitely an exhausting style of combat.”

“Guess it has to be when Shiva is equally exhausting.” Summer looked at her mother. Weiss’s eyes looked stunned from the words. “What? It’s no secret. I’ve known for a while now.”

“Does it bother you?”

“No, not exactly. It would only make sense to learn how to fight in a way that’ll work against something that very much wants to fight you. I…it’s just a little sad is all. Everything he does, every way he acts, it all stems from Shiva and the day I fell into the lake. I can’t help but feel like I’ve robbed him from being who he actually wants to be.”

“I wouldn’t agree with all that, especially the last part.” Weiss smiled as she rubbed her daughter’s face. “Nick also does what he does because he loves you. That’s been true since before you two could walk. He’s always been the brother who’d look after his sister. That’s all you, not Shiva.”

Summer could feel her chest tighten. “Thanks mom. I needed that.”

The two shared a hug, completely caught off guard the moment Nicholas was sent tumbling towards their feet. Both looked at him as he groaned from what had to be one of Winter’s kicks.

“Ugh…should’ve dodged instead of blocked. Oh, hey Summer. Training going well?”

“Better than yours apparently.” She bounced him up with a glyph, “Wanna put Winter through her paces?”

“Mmm two versus one is tempting, but frankly our teamwork is the last thing we ever need to practice at this point. Can’t call your help to face Valerie.”

“True. Wouldn’t want you feeling down watching my glyphs out do yours anyways.”

“Harsh. Maybe we should have our own match sometime?” He ran back towards Winter.

Weiss shook her head, “Already moving. Guess he really isn’t sick at all anymore.” She looked at Summer to see her frowning. “Summer? What’s wrong?”

“If Nick and I fought…I’d lose, wouldn’t I?”

“Umm I couldn’t tell you. Both of you are different and rarely do you two ever fight. Why?”

“I never really thought about it before, the potential gap between us and how big it actually is.” Shiva had told her Nick performed better. It could’ve been a lie, but Summer doubted that. Then she thought about the tournament again. In reality, Summer wasn’t sure how much she was actually contributing in the doubles. If her performance from the exam told her anything, it was that her brother could go far without her. That…bothered her.

“He’d beat me.” She admitted, “the gap is too wide right now.”

“Well, not as wide as you might think. Even if it is, all the more reason to train hard, right?”

“Yeah. I’ll catch up, hopefu- no, definitely. I definitely will catch up.” Summer’s hands squeezed tightly as she kept watching Nicholas fight. One day, when she’s brave enough, Summer might dare to find out how big the gap is with her sword at the ready; but for now she’ll watch. Watch and learn.

Meanwhile, Shiva sat quietly on the ice. “Good. Want it, want it so bad that you can’t help but let it fester like a fire; up until it nearly burns you up.” She layed back, smiling. “That’s when you’ll want it most, the bliss of sheer cold.”

[hockey-fics]

Do Better ~ Travis Konecny 

Summary: Your relationship with Travis was supposed to be over but seven months later neither of you has been able to find the willpower to stay away from each other.

Warnings: toxic relationship (jealousy, arguments, terrible communication), smut, language. 

Word Count: ~2,800

A/N: Didn’t want to put the effort into making a gif for this one because I’m not super happy with it but I just wanted to post so hopefully I’ll get back into posting more often.

‘Can I come over?’

Such a simple text message that carried so much more than those four words should ever hold. 

Travis. You had broken up with him 7 months ago. Broken up with him 7 months ago and yet the stream of text messages over that time would say otherwise. It was like a highlight reel of both of your lowest moments, clambering for each other in the moments of loneliness. 

‘come over’

‘I miss you y/n’

‘call me’

‘are you up?

‘I need you, trav’ 

‘send me pics please’

There were reasons you two broke up, more than just a couple. But as soon as you would start to feel lonely, wishing you had someone to be with in every sense of the word, those reasons seemed to vanish from your mind. 

They were the nights you would go out to the bar and Travis would get pouty and annoyed anytime a guy so much as looked at you a little too long. When he would find reasons to be suspicious about every male coworker or guy friend you were spending time with. And you weren’t much better. You would find yourself laying in bed while he was on the road, wondering if he was out at a bar flirting with other girls, buying them drinks with his NHL salary. 

Or days when he would come home and barely speak to you after bad games. When you would try your best to be a supportive girlfriend only to get brushed off, like you were simply an annoyance to him. But you could never take the high-road, could never let him have his time to cool off. You always needed to say something and something would always end in an argument. You two yelling at each other till you shut each other up with your lips on each other, clothes being scattered in whatever room the argument happened to be taking place in. And nothing ever got resolved, just a silent agreement to not bring the fight back up. 

You were just as bad though. When you weren’t getting the attention you wanted from him you would turn to other sources. You would act just a little too friendly towards his teammates the day after one of your fights. Or you would make more conversation than you needed to with the waiter at the restaurant, the barista at the coffee shop, anyone who would make Travis jealous. And later that day he would fuck you, hard and fast and make you whimper just who you belonged to. 

As your friends described it, your relationship had a toxic side. But perhaps the most toxic part of it all was that now that you were ex’s the only parts that remained in your connection with each other were the toxic parts. The good times were gone now. The fact that you would only go running to him when you wanted him, needed him, to fuck you like only he seemed to know how to. When he would leave you on read for days until you posted a picture with one of your guy friends and suddenly he was in your DMs faster than you realized he was even capable of typing. When you would go on a bad date and have the Uber take you to Travis’ apartment after it was over rather than your own, using him to deal with the disappointment of the terrible night. When he was on the road and would FaceTime you late at night, his intentions clear and your willpower not strong enough to resist taking your clothes off for him, following every little direction he would mutter to you over the phone in the dimly lit hotel room. When you would post pictures to your snap or insta stories when you wanted him to talk to you but didn’t want to be the one to reach out. 

And tonight was no exception. The Flyers had just won a game, one in which he had played incredibly well. You knew he was looking for a way to celebrate that win and you knew he was hoping it would be with your body. As much as you knew you should say no you simply couldn’t. 

‘yes’ 

An hour later Travis is in your apartment. He’s still wearing his dress shirt and pants, not even having the patience to go home to get changed first. You didn’t even need to let him in, you had never gotten the key you gave him a year into the relationship back. 

“You played well,” you tell him, sitting beside him on the couch as he scrolls through Netflix to pick a movie neither of you would watch for more than a couple minutes. 

“You still watch them all, hey?” Travis mutters, a teasing undertone to his voice. Because he knew you were still in love with you. You knew he was still in love with you too but it still made your blood boil whenever he would insinuate it. 

“I don’t watch them for you,” you state with feigned confidence.

“Oh?” Travis knows you’re lying but he goes along with it anyway. 

“Still think Carter is pretty hot,” you tell him, turning your body to the side to look at him. You had said it once during your relationship, at a bar. You had been sitting beside Travis when you saw Carter walk in, making an absentminded comment about him being hot. It wasn’t even meant to rile Travis up, just an observation. But it ended with Travis pulling you into the bathroom and bending you over the counter, forcing you to watch him fuck you from behind. 

A smirk grows on Travis’ face as he turns to look at you. “You really want me to fuck you like that again, baby girl?”

“Maybe I could get Carter to fuck me like that.”

“Stop,” Travis mutters, voice low, warning. It was different now. There was nothing Travis could really say when you made comments like that, you weren’t his anymore. 

“Make me.”

Travis tosses the remote to the side, giving up on picking a movie. His hands grab your hips, rough as he pulls you across his lap so you were straddling him. His lips are on yours, kissing you with a fiery passion that ignites every nerve in your body. You rock your hips down against him, his grip on your hips tightening as you do. Before you know it Travis is tugging your t-shirt up over your head, fingers grazing over your bare skin as his lips trail down your jaw and to your neck. By the time he gets to your chest he’s sucking and nipping your skin hard, leaving marks that you know will be there for the next few days. He’s making it more difficult for you to be with anyone else, little did he know you really had no interest in being with anyone else at this point. But you let him believe otherwise, because it was more fun for you. 

You start with the bottom buttons of his shirt as he continues to work over your chest, sucking your nipple into his mouth, tongue flicking over it lightly. Your hand cups beneath Travis’ jaw as you tip his head back when you get to the top buttons, moving your hands back to make quick work of the rest of his shirt. His skin is warm as you push his shirt off his shoulders and down his arms. While your movements are slow and deliberate Travis isn’t sharing the same patience. After tossing his shirt to the side his hands are on the waistband of your shorts, pushing them down your legs. And you’ve done this so many times before that you know exactly when and how to shift your legs to make the process easy. 

“Fuck,” Travis groans when he realizes you weren’t wearing underwear. 

You can’t stop the smirk that spreads on your lips, knowing how much control you had over him without even needing to do anything. But just as you were beginning to feel in control Travis runs his fingers along your folds and you’re falling apart at his touch. You lean forward further onto your knees, giving him more space between your bodies to work with. “So wet for me,” Travis mutters, fingers brushing against your entrance before sliding up to your clit. He circles around it till you’re whimpering, begging for more. “Please, Travis, please.”

Travis chuckles quietly and you know he’s fully aware of the power he has over you. But he doesn’t tease you for much longer, his thumb brushing gentle circles over your clit as his fingers find their way back towards your entrance. Your head is on his shoulder a minute later, soft moans filling the room as he presses one finger inside of you, then another. And he uses the rhythm he knows you like to easily work you through an orgasm. “Fuck, Travis, I’m going to-.”

“I know,” Travis mutters, working you through your orgasm with one hand, the other circled around your waist. You let out a string of loud moans, body writhing in pleasure, your legs shaking as they struggle to keep you from completely collapsing onto Travis. “I got you,” Travis mutters, slowly pulling his hand out from between you, his hands tug your legs closer to him, letting you drop your weight down onto his lap. “You’re so fucking hot,” Travis mutters, pushing himself forward on the couch as he grabs your legs and stands up, still holding onto you. 

“I can walk,” you tell him as Travis carries you towards your bedroom. 

“Are you sure about that?” Travis teases, making you giggle as you wrap your arms tighter around his shoulders. 

In the bedroom Travis drops you down onto the bed, pulling you to the edge of the mattress as he gets down onto his knees. He lifts your legs up over his shoulders, lips trailing up your inner thighs as you let out a heavy breath, flopping flat against the bed, head tipped back. When his lips get to your core you let out a shaky gasp, tongue flicking against your already sensitive clit and making your body jolt. His tongue works against your clit as he brings his fingers back to your entrance, gently circling it for a few minutes before sliding two fingers inside of you. Your back arches against the mattress as you clutch at the fabric of your comforter beneath you. “Please…fuck…I just, Trav, please,” you stutter out. 

“What do you need?” Travis asks, pulling back to look up at you. 

Quickly you shake your head, fingers curling into his hair. “No, please don’t stop,” you whine, watching him smirk before he goes back to what he was doing. 

And before you know if you’re being brought to your second orgasm of the night, grasping helplessly as the blankets as your body jolts through wave after wave of pleasure. When Travis finally makes his way back up to your lips, kissing you gently, you realize he still had yet to even take his own pants off. Sitting up you push Travis to his feet, fingers unbuckling his belt, unbuttoning his pants and slipping them down his legs. You run your fingers over his length through the fabric of his boxers, enjoying the sound of his throaty groan. You don’t make him wait too long before you’re pushing his boxers down as well and pulling Travis back on top of you. “I need you inside me,” you whisper and he doesn’t hesitate. He pushes into you, slowly and gently despite the fact that you were so wet and ready for him you didn’t need a second to adjust to the sensation. 

Your hands grasp at Travis’ back, legs wrapped around him as he thrusts his hips into you. After a few minutes he’s pulled back, hands on your hips as he flips you over. Before he even has the chance to say anything you’re on your knees, arms braced in front of you as he slides back inside you. You let out a quiet moan, as he uses one hand on your hip to brace his thrusts while the other wraps around you to brush against your clit. 

Loud whimpers and moans escape your lips, your pleasure getting to the point where it was almost too much. “Trav,” you whine, fingers curled into the blankets as you brace yourself from rocking forward with every thrust. “Travis, I…it’s too much.”

“Pluto?” Travis mutters, slowing down as he waits for your response. It was your safe word, the only way you could convince him to choke you or hold you down when you first brought up the idea of rougher sex at the very beginning of the relationship. 

“N-no,” you stammer, shaking your head. “Keep going.”

“Okay,” Travis mutters, but you can tell he’s being gentler, his hips not carrying as much power with each thrust, his fingers softer and slower on your clit. But you’re brought to another orgasm nonetheless, no longer able to stop yourself from rocking forward as your shaky arms can barely keep yourself off the mattress. 

“Fuck,” Travis mutters, his thrusts getting sloppy. He moves both hands to your hips now, holding you in place as he brings himself to his own high. You can feel him cum inside of you and he’s holding you almost completely still now, breathing heavily in the quiet stillness of the bedroom for a few moments before pulling out ever so slowly. Reaching over Travis grabs the box of Kleenex from your nightstand, easing you onto your back and cleaning you up. “I’ll be right back,” Travis tells you, leaning onto the bed to leave a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

Travis returns with a damp cloth, using it to fully clean you up, his touch soft and gentle. “You should go,” you suddenly blurt out when he pulls away, feeling a well of emotion in your chest. 

“What?” Travis’ voice is full of surprise, looking down at you with furrowed eyebrows. “Like, this second?”

All you can manage to do it nod, feeling the threat of tears. An ache in your throat, stinging in your eyes. 

But you’re not hiding it nearly as well as you think and Travis is pulling you into his chest, arms holding you tight to his body. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Did I…did I hurt you?”

“No, no,” you assure him quickly, a few tears slipping from your eyes. “I miss you, Travis. I love you. I don’t know, I don’t want you to go.”

“You just told me to go.”

Shoving at his chest you pull yourself away from his grasp. “Because it’s easier if you just go now instead of in the morning. I can’t…I can’t let you stay here and cuddle all night. It hurts.”

Travis reaches back over, taking your hands, trying desperately to maintain the physical contact you kept pushing away. “I don’t have to,” Travis tells you. “I don’t have to leave in the morning.”

“Stop,” you snap, pulling your hands away from him and climbing off your bed. Steadying your shaky legs you walk to your dresser, yanking on the first t-shirt you could find, which just so happened to be one of Travis’ that he left there so long ago you were sure he had forgotten about it. “We broke up, Travis. We’re done.”

“We don’t have to be,” Travis counters as he follows your lead, pulling on his boxers and taking tentative steps in your direction. 

“Yes, we do,” you yell. “We weren’t good for each other.”

“I’ll do better,” Travis pleads, stepping closer to you. “Let’s just try again.”

“It wasn’t just you, Travis. It was me too. You can’t just fix this on your own.”

“Then do better too,” Travis states and you stare up at him blankly, taken aback by him calling you out so directly. 

“I-,” you begin, having no defence for yourself. You couldn’t say that you couldn’t try that. You couldn’t say that you didn’t need to do better. He was right and you either had to accept that or accept that this relationship needed to end completely. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Travis repeats, nodding slowly. “Should we talk about it in the morning?”

“Probably,” you agree, knowing you needed to be more level headed than you were feeling now to have any type of serious discussion. 

“Do you want me to come back in the morning, or-.”

“Stay,” you whisper, reaching over and taking his hand. “Spend the night with me, please.”

Travis nods, letting you guide him back to your bed. The two of you curl up underneath the blankets, falling asleep in a tangled mess together with the promise of tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow you would figure it all out. But for now, now you were going to do what you always did. Pretend everything was okay. 

[clearlynotjanus]

Whumptober: Day Two, Talking is Overrated

READ ON AO3

Chapter Summary: Ever since Remus returned from his isolation in the Imagination, things between Janus & Virgil have been strained. Virgil can’t deny that he finds Remus attractive, & Janus doesn’t seem to have a problem with this, but there’s a lot lurking just under the surface of his feelings that makes being with either of them far more difficult than it should be. CW: Dubious consent, panic attacks, anxiety, crying, blowjobs, deepthroating, graphic description of sexual acts Word Count: 5160 Genre: Hurt, Smut, Angst, Whump Rating: Explicit Ships: Dukexiety with a dash of Anxceitmus Author Notes: Soooo you’ll notice that this is very out of the realm of the stuff I usually write. I’m giving everyone a warning right now, this is dubcon & it’s all hurt, no comfort. If you’re familiar with my writing, right about now you’re asking who the fuck is this because this sure isn’t Andrew-Moceit-Fluff-Anderson, & you’re right! This is extremely out of character for me! But sometimes you just gotta hurt the anthropomorphized version of your panic disorder to get through some shit, you know? lmao. Maybe that’s relatable, maybe you’re wondering if my hitaus has turned me into a psycho; who knows! But anyway! I’m using Whumptober to explore some...less than savory topics. So honestly, a big fat “Don’t like, don’t read” / “Dead Dove Don’t Eat” on everything I post this month. But if you’re into it! Hell yeah! I hope you enjoy! :D

Taglist: @sanderssidesangsttrash​​ @catalinaacosta​ @whatishappeningrightnow​ @anxiousbean4404​ @vexelore​ @ranboo-but-booran​ @serpentinesomebody​ @poptartsaysurloved​ @robertdownerjr​ @dangitsbrightinhere​ @iamuncomffy​ @sanderdarksides​ @dragonfander @virgilstarantula​ @a-rudethude @indubitably-emo @gay-artist-626​ @edupunkn00b​ @wouldntyou-liketoknow​ @awesomerandomgirl1​ @cosplayhanna​ @rizzyluke​​ @all-panic-nodisco​ @remy-the-lemon-berry​ @their-royal-fiensishness​ @xravynsflamex​ @imma-potatoo​ @obsxdiannn​

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Hearing the television downstairs, Virgil decided that four in the afternoon was as good a time as any to leave his room for the day. With ghostly silent steps, he descended the stairs - only to stand awkwardly at the foot. His eyes settled on Janus who was staring at the flickering screen, a gloved hand bore the weight of his head with a cupped cheek. Virgil’s heart rate thrummed in his ears like an approaching war drum, nearly drowning out the indecisive show clips. The irregular pattern of noise began a pressure between his eyes as he strained to keep up with alternating sounds of unfamiliar shows.

“Oh is that o--” Virgil started, recognizing a voice finally with several ounces of relief. His head turned as Janus clicked past a rerun of The Twilight Zone.

He blinked, pausing on the following station as he looked up at Virgil with furrowed brows.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Virgil said, shaking his head. With long steps he quickly retreated to the kitchen as Janus shrugged and resumed his mindless clicking.

Virgil collapsed against the kitchen counter, a palm splayed heavily behind him as though his life depended on it, the other gripping his stomach. Breathe, he ordered himself sternly, tightly closing his eyes and drawing in a breath he struggled to keep quiet. In, 1, 2, 3, 4. Hold, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7. Out, 1, 2, 3, 4 -- 

“Virgil, since you’re in the kitchen,” Janus called, hardly louder than his speaking voice, but the sound made Virgil jump regardless. Instinctually a hand slammed over his mouth to keep the inevitable squeak on his tongue. “Would you be a darling and make us some tea?”

“Y-yeah! Sure!” He said, peeling his palm off his lips. As Janus remained silent, Virgil sighed heavily. 

He repeated his breathing exercise as the water boiled, again as he dumped a ridiculous amount of sugar in one mug and a single teaspoon in another, once more as he placed a bag of Red Rose strawberry cheesecake flavored herbal tea in one mug and a bag of standard Lipton black in the other. His hands had stopped shaking by the time he carried both steaming cups out and placed them on the coffee table. 

Typically he wasn’t one for hot drinks outside of the occasional hot chocolate in fall, but the idea of bringing Janus something without one of whatever it was for himself had always felt...off. Awkward maybe, or just weird; Virgil couldn’t say, but it always compelled him to inevitably join Janus, even if that was the last thing he wanted.

“Oh delightful,” Janus said, immediately wrapping his hands around the molten mug. Virgil flinched just thinking about touching something that hot, but Janus simply leaned back against the couch with a look Virgil could only describe as stupidly content. 

“Yeah,” He mumbled and again found himself standing there. 

Why was he always so awkward? Virgil internally lamented, wondering what normal people did with their hands. He’d been with Janus on this side of the Mindscape for four years now; had watched television and drank tea with him plenty of times. But it never felt easier. Janus put him on edge, for more than a handful of reasons; some harmful and some not. 

Fight or Flight - more aptly upgraded to Paranoia these days - in theory was necessary for something like Self Preservation. A healthy dose of Anxiety kept one vigilant about their health and surroundings; it provided information for Self Preservation to react to and plan for. On paper, they should be a smooth running machine; Virgil would alert Janus to dangers and Janus would provide the escape route. The wrench was that communication was neither of their strong suits; but after four years, Janus didn’t really need Virgil to speak. He knew his problematic little spider well enough by now.

“Sit down already,” Janus waved a hand to the open end of the couch. “Your angst is suffocating.” 

“S-sorry,” Virgil mumbled and sat on the opposite side of the L shaped couch.

“Tsk.”

The two sipped their respective cups in a smothering silence. Virgil’s shoulders ached under the weight. Should he talk? Was Janus going to say something? He stole a glance at his partner, and a sigh caught at the back of his throat at the sight. Janus sat upright, drinking his tea and staring at the television without even a furrow between his brow. Why was he always so goddamn content?

“You’re still upset.”

“No,” Virgil rushed, the sudden observation pumping adrenaline through his blood. Janus hadn’t even looked at him - how the hell had he made any sort of observation, true or not? The air around them sweetened. Janus narrowed his eyes condescendingly, finally sparing a glance at him to offer the expression. They both knew that was a lie. Virgil bowed his head, needing to look away.

“You should really know better by now.” Janus complained into this teacup, but to Virgil’s ears, it just sounded like an insult. 

He should know better by now than to lie to Janus’ face. Or maybe he should know better by now than to get upset at Thomas’ lies. But Virgil struggled to say it wasn’t the thought of Thomas lying that lurched his stomach. The words knotted his tongue and tightened his throat until even the tea wouldn’t go down.

Of course Janus knew this; knew every bit of Virgil’s simple psychology. His words were being misconstrued in that buzzing mind of his at this very moment. Even his intent from yesterday; misunderstood, which is what got them here of course. What was bothering Virgil was very easy to understand; when continuously faced with the fact that Janus unflinchingly told Thomas to lie, manipulate, and do whatever he must to get what he wants, it was only a matter of time before Virgil began to wonder if those very same morals were at play in their relationship. 

The answer was equally obvious, Janus thought, and therefore Virgil should know better by now.

“Yeah,” Virgil agreed with a sigh, but the bitterness continued to strangle him, and Janus felt no need to get into the topic. If they continued pretending as though things were fine, eventually they would be, which was usually his philosophy in dealing with Virgil’s anxiety.

The crushing silence rang in Virgil’s ears despite the ease it came to Janus with. Paranoia - it was a very difficult experience and talking himself off the ledge was getting harder every day. The thought of Janus hurting him was haunting. How far would he go to get his way? The things he implied Thomas should be willing to do...were they things Janus was willing to do to him? Virgil gulped, and then jumped five inches off the couch.

“Sup, emo,” Remus greeted nasally, having barrelled down the stairs in microseconds. Virgil’s heart all but stopped as he cursed at the warm tea that had splashed on his hand with the shock. 

With no amount of hesitance, Remus flopped on the couch and forced his head into Janus’ lap. Though Janus looked generally disgruntled about the loud interruption, he still lifted his arms and adjusted to make himself available. 

“Aw damn,” Remus continued gruffly, ignoring Virgil’s flinch and discomfort as he gave a grotesque sniff to the air. “You made tea and didn’t even heat me up any bleach? Booooooooo.”

“Sorry,” Virgil spat sarcastically, scrunching his nose, “I try not to think about you.” 

“That’s not what you said last night.” Remus mocked and Virgil choked on his inhale, going red.

“Be nice, Remus.” Janus bounced his leg gently, jostling him. “You know he’s much too frigid for that in this clearly public space. I mean, anyone could walk in at any moment.”

Remus snickered, folding his arms behind his head as Janus spoke with mocking alarm. He looked at Virgil expectantly and only had to wait a second before the bickering began.

“I am not frigid,” Virgil said, blushing still.

“Prove it, Daddy Long Legs,” Remus wiggled his brows suggestively. Virgil glared, but couldn’t keep the paranoia from creeping up on him; anxiously, he glanced at Janus, struggling to keep his attention on Remus. Janus, as though entirely separate from this conversation, seemed to be minding his own business now; he took a loud sip of his tea and kept his vision trained on the television that was quickly being drowned out by their arguing.

“H-how?” Virgil asked when he realized Janus wasn’t going to butt in, immediately regretting his decision to indulge Remus.

“Suck my dick,” he said quickly like he had just been waiting for Virgil to ask. “Right here in the living room!” His hands reached for his waistband. Covertly Janus reacted; as though he had inhaled at the wrong time, he quietly cleared his throat into a cupped hand.

“No!” Virgil protested immediately, recoiling as he nervously looked towards the staircase. 

“Prude.”

“Am not!”

“Virgin.”

“That’s just plain wrong!”

Virgil’s face had gone a deep scarlet and again he regretted his words. Anger seized his throat; though he hadn’t raised his volume, his words were heated and bitter. Remus, for all his apparent disinterest as the insults were slung, just couldn’t do away with the pleased sparkle in his eyes that always came with riling Virgil up.

“Is it really now, Screamo?” Remus taunted and Virgil pushed his tempered tongue against the side of his cheek. 

“You know it is,” His words came out slow and ground between his teeth. He hated Remus for making him say these things out loud, for making him acknowledge the truths he purposefully left hidden under his bedsheets. 

“Do I?” Remus dug a finger into his ear, giving Virgil a stupid and ignorant expression. “Sorry, Cindy Lou Boo, must’ve just…slipped my mind.” He finished with a shrug that held both his hands open.

Virgil groaned and pulled his knees to his chest, slamming back against the couch in a show of edgy annoyance. He glowered straight ahead, unseeing at the window as his rage-filled heart hammered against his ears.

“See what I mean?” Janus mumbled, a smirk just barely hidden behind his teacup. “Frigid.” He raised a shoulder in a half effort shrug. 

The words cut Virgil deep, deeper than Remus’ digs had. Janus was always cold and pointed with his insults. They hit hard and lingered with murderous precision. Remus’ were fast and easy to ignore in the long run. Virgil forced himself to take a breath; his lungs expanded against his legs. This was a stupid arguement to be having. They both knew what Virgil was like in bed, which he guessed was why they liked teasing him, but it wasn’t fun. Not for him anyway. Even so, it made Virgil feel like he had something to prove. 

Maybe it was some sort of twisted aspect of toxic masculinity or something, but he couldn’t just let their jeering go. It festered in him, the need to be recognized as one of them, because these days it really was feeling like Janus and Remus were against him, which was fucked up if you asked Virgil. He’d been with Janus the longest, so why was Remus able to just swoop in and act like this? Virgil steeled himself with more deep breaths before opening his mouth.

“Talking is overrated,” Virgil started and Janus peered through the corner of his eyes, recognizing how uncharacteristic of him those words were. “If you can’t remember, I’ll just have to remind you.”

“Hell yeah,” Remus immediately enthused, a wide grin cracking his face as he reached for his waistband.

“N-not here,” Virgil rushed, desperately clinging to the cool tone he had used just a moment ago. Remus pouted and Virgil raised his eyes to insinuate one of their bedrooms above them. “Later.”

“Fiiiiiiiiine,” He bemoaned, crossing his arms and sinking back into the couch, his head colliding Janus’ lap again.

“Well then,” Janus mumbled and reached for the remote.

-----

Remus maintained a rough grip in Virgil’s hair. When his fingers had first tightly laced at the roots, Virgil had yelped and felt the familiar tingle of adrenaline prick down his spine. Now, even though Remus hadn’t let up at all, it felt mostly numb - at least in comparison to everything else. His boney knees had begun going red against the carpet, even behind the fabric of his jeans. The color was both from how harsh Remus had pushed him down onto them and for how long he’d been kneeling. His throat ached something raw. His lungs strained against his ribs. His cock struggled for friction against the boot between his thighs. 

Virgil’s subdued cries fell on sadistic ears; not apathetic or deaf ones. Remus was spurred on by how Virgil’s protests interrupted the wet sound of his cock colliding against the back of his throat. Virgil knew that of course, and it was a thin line to be riding. Tonight, the margin for error felt smaller than usual. 

Perhaps it was his interaction with Janus earlier or maybe it was the instigation this was founded on, but Remus’ grin seemed to glow maliciously down at him. The walls of his throat squeezed unusually tight, reluctant to relax no matter how many deep and even breaths Virgil forced through his nose. His hands shook against his thighs with the restraint of keeping his fight or flight at bay. It wasn’t typically this difficult, taking Remus’ cock and swallowing his violence. For all his objection in the living room earlier, the crude mockery of love that was his lewd time spent with Remus was enjoyable for him. Usually.

Tonight his body reacted like a great duality sliced a canyon in his mind; though he could feel his cock throbbing against his pants and his hips aching to press down against the rigid surface of Remus’ shoe, the familiar animal of panic surged through him, screaming danger like a mating Bellbird. Remus’ hand pressed Virgil’s head down further, his cock searching for the give that’d have him sliding down with ease. Virgil’s eyes watered; even in pain he struggled to maintain eye contact. His vision swam as he glanced between Remus’ unwavering, heated stare and the ceiling just behind his head. 

“Relax already, Virge,” Remus complained, reaching with his other hand to tip Virgil’s head back by his chin.

He whined, though the sound quickly became strangled against the obstruction. He was trying, he was trying so hard to let Remus cram himself down, but the more Remus pressed, the more obvious it became that Virgil’s throat wasn’t letting up; and the more obvious that became, the more distressed Virgil got. He was trying, why wasn’t it working? It always did, he was always able to do at least this much. If he couldn’t even deepthroat Remus…maybe they were right. Shame tightened his chest as Janus’ voice rang through his mind. You know he’s much too frigid for that…

Janus couldn’t be right about that. Virgil wouldn’t let Janus be right about that. Rallying, Virgil shifted forward on his knees, straightening his back. His crotch slid further up Remus’ boot, and despite the tears in his eyes, Virgil looked desperately stubborn. 

“Ooooh,” Remus almost sang, his voice entertained as he tugged the tuft of Virgil’s hair in his grip and earned a gargled cry. “You’re finally ready to try, Scare Bear?”

He winced; he was already trying, but it was probably a good thing, Virgil thought, that Remus didn’t realize that. It’d just make him look that much more pathetic.

With a deep breath, Virgil squeezed his eyes shut. His knuckles went white as they gripped the hem of his shirt. He forced his jaw to relax, his tongue to press flat against the bottom of his mouth. This would hurt. He steeled himself for pain. The Bellbird rioted in his ears and every other thought hazed as he pressed forward of his own volition. Remus’ hands guided him forward as his cock split through the anxious knot in his throat. The courage of determination and humiliation wasn’t enough to numb the agony. His eyes shot open and the muscles in his neck tensed to pull back as Remus’ cock penetrated beyond his soft palate and teased at the entrance of his esophagus. 

Remus’ eyes fluttered shut as he moaned, his head falling back as though it was a great effort to stay standing as pleasure coursed through him. Virgil’s panic rose and no amount of nonverbal approval could prevent him from jerking away - or at least trying to. As he pulled back, feeling his lungs burn for air, he realized the real reason Remus’ hands had stayed lodged in his hair and gripped on his jaw; to hold him in place when he inevitably changed his mind. At the revelation, Virgil squirmed, his hands unconsciously reaching for Remus’ pant leg as muffled pleas wedged between the walls of his throat and Remus’ cock. Virgil struggled, his movements frenzying the longer Remus went without a reaction. He clawed at Remus’ leg as his jaw reflexively tightened. His front teeth grazed the intrusive member between his lips and despite Virgil’s misery, he attempted to keep his mouth open. Tears streaked down his cheeks and his thoughts crescendo to their steepest point of doom; he would die here.

Remus sighed and loosened his hold on the back of Virgil’s head, enough for him to slide backwards several inches until his cock rested at the back of his throat, no longer obstructing Virgil’s breath. But Virgil continued to push back, wanting to eject the horror completely. He shook his head and stared up at Remus with pleading, terror-filled eyes.

“God, Dee’s right, you’re such a Drama King. Breathe already,” Remus said with an exasperated eye roll.

The mention of Janus felt like a slap across the face. How often did they talk about him? Did they only have bad things to say? His stomach flipped and he forced his eyes closed. He already suspected it was like that; he shouldn’t act so shocked. Ever since Remus has come back from the Imagination, he was closer to Janus than Virgil had ever been. It made him beyond jealous, beyond paranoid - but could it really be called paranoia if he was proven right? 

Though Remus’ words were harsh, Virgil eventually obeyed, realizing he was right as a slow and even breath went through his nose and down to his lungs easily. It didn’t matter what Janus said about him, Virgil lied to himself. It didn’t matter if they talked behind his back. He’d prove them wrong.

“Good, now stop being such a wuss already,” Remus continued as Virgil’s panic began to subside. Little by little his deep breaths chipped away at the looming wall of his anxiety until eventually, only a line of bricks remained. 

He was fine. He did this all the time - well not all the time but frequently enough that it was pretty ridiculous of him to make such a big deal out of it. He blushed, thinking about how pitiful he must’ve looked, struggling to get half of Remus’ cock down. Embarrassment swelled and he swallowed against the feeling, closing his lips around Remus in the process. He gave a small nod and readied himself. This time, he wouldn’t be such a coward.

Remus’ hand tensed in Virgil’s hair and a flinch coiled in his muscles; but the moment remained paused as Remus hesitated.

“Pull your pants down.”

Virgil blinked up at him, a dumb look on his face as his fearful mind struggled to keep up. 

“Pants. Down.” Remus repeated like it was the most obvious thing in the world, his tone bewildered. He lifted his foot which remained pressed against Virgil’s cock; the jolt of sudden pressure seemed to get the point across finally.

Virgil unfurled his hands from Remus’ pant leg. His knuckles cracked from being released for the first time in several long minutes. The blood rushed back to them as he fumbled with his zipper and button. Clumsily he maneuvered them down his thighs and below his knees enough. With that done, he looked back at Remus, wanting to just get on with this already. His hardon had shrunk significantly with his earlier pain and even thinking about getting off now made his skin crawl. He wanted to get this over with. His throat ached, his head was pounding, and his knees were raw.

“Boxers too, Spidey,” Remus said impatiently.

Virgil sighed through his nose. He should’ve seen that coming. He looked down, though from his angle he couldn’t see very far without taking Remus’ cock out of his mouth, which was very clearly unallowed by the hands holding his head still. The color on his cheeks darkened at the realization; if he took his boxers off, there’d be nothing between him and Remus’ boot. Disgust overtook him. He didn’t want to touch those things with his hands, let alone his cock.

“My shoes are clean, Sir Bite.” Remus said, tone full of disdain as though it was completely out of the realm of possibilities that his shoes were dirty. “I’m going soft,” He lamented, pushing Virgil’s head forward an inch to feel some friction, making him squeak in surprise. “Hurry up.” 

 Dejected, he repeated the process, albeit a bit quicker this time, and exposed his half-hard cock. He held it in his hand as he shifted himself back into position; spine straight, thighs separated, head tilted back with his jaw slack and lips tight - though he hadn’t had much of a choice with the latter part. Remus bent his head to the side and peered with dissatisfaction at the way Virgil refused to let his cock touch his shoe. Again he lifted his foot, pointedly pressing against Virgil’s hand as his eyes rolled to lock their gaze. Virgil’s cock twitched in his grip as Remus nearly glared at him with expectation; he resented the thing for it. There was no way such a revolting insinuation should get that sort of rise out of him…and yet, it had. His stomach churned and his nerves frayed as Remus refused to move. It was clear nothing would start or end until Virgil released his cock.

Slowly Virgil closed his eyes again, resigning himself to a very hot, very soapy shower later. He released his hand and rested both, once more, on his thighs. His cock pressed against the leather of Remus’ shoe. It felt…demeaning, Virgil thought. He especially hated how it curled his muscles with anticipation. He cursed internally and refused to meet Remus’ knowing stare. Bastard.

“Good. Now deep breath, emo.” He warned a second before he began to press forward again.

Panic exploded through him like a bullet with the words as his eyes shot open. He rushed to inhale as told in the moment that Remus’ cock inched beyond the back of his throat again. The adrenaline of fight or flight flooded his blood, electrifying his brain with the lone command to flee. But Remus’ hands and eyes paralyzed him; even if Virgil could find it in himself to move as irrational fear crippled him, he’d be prevented. He hadn’t noticed at what point he had stopped crying, but a renewed wetness began trickling down his cheeks, dripping onto his shaking hands. 

His cock hardened against Remus’ boot despite himself, the feeling of being trapped somehow translating to arousal as Remus began violating his esophagus with paced thrusts and deep groans. Virgil knew that was exactly what Remus wanted; for all his pain and dread to transform into surrender and lust. That’s how it usually went so it was no wonder his cock dripped against the leather, preparing for the moment Virgil’s desire to run flipped on its head and he embraced his instinct to fight instead. But it was so much more difficult tonight to simply let that happen. 

Virgil choked out a defeated whine, blinking rapidly as tears blurred his vision. The sound made Remus’ cock twitch aggressively; his movements hastened and Virgil gargled on his welling spit as his lungs began burning again. 

“You know what to do,” Remus grunted, gripping his jaw tighter as he plunged deep enough to press Virgil’s lips against his crotch. He could feel his Adam’s apple taut against his skin. “To make it stop hurting so much.” Virgil thought if he wasn’t preoccupied, the words would’ve sounded like a laugh. Instead they were rushed, like Virgil’s pain was an annoyance rather than a concern.

Twenty seconds had passed and Virgil started to think he was going to die again. It hurt so much, all of it, and Remus was right; there was one way to make it stop, or at least dull it a bit, but Virgil didn’t want to think about that. The idea of moving his hips to gain friction against Remus’ shoe was…outrageous, ludicrous, crazy. But His cock ached for it, dripped precum against the cloth laces for it. Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting. He shook his head as much as he could and choked out a wet wail. Remus clicked his tongue and seemed to shrug about it; it wasn’t his problem if Virgil didn’t take him up on the relief he was offering. 

The obscene sound of Remus’ cock pushing all the way down Virgil’s throat filled the room. It invaded his mind and seemed to be in rhythm with his heart, drowning the sound out. Ten more seconds and he struggled to keep his eyes open. Five more and his heart desynced from the even tempo of Remus’ thrusts. His pulse slowed and it was like he was standing in the living room, listening to Janus rapidly flick through the television channels again; a pressure formed between his eyes as he strained to keep up with what was happening. A dull panic nauseated his stomach. A sudden flash of heat like a desert wind beaded sweat at the back of his neck. 

Was this enough? Did he live up to the expectation now? They couldn’t still call him frigid or a prude or accuse him of being a virgin after this, right? If he held on long enough and let Remus cum like this, maybe they’d even stop teasing him so much. Virgil hoped that was true, oh, he hoped so much. This could be just like a hazing ritual; he’d pass with flying colors if he could just sit still and take Remus’ brutality without flinching. 

His thoughts became nonsensical as his body ran out of oxygen. This wasn’t a hazing ritual. This was just how Remus was. He’d never be comfortable around Janus again. He’d never have Janus to himself anymore; Remus would always be standing in the way like some twisted guard. Even in moments of peace, the inevitability of his unsettling nature put Virgil on edge. No amount of Deceit could cover the truth anymore. Thomas was sick and Remus was the proof.

As his vision went dark, Remus released his grip on Virgil’s hair. His fight or flight returned all at once as he was finally able to pull away. Falling backwards, a hand clawed at his throat, the other bracing himself up in a shaky way as he gasped and choked for air. Everything he knew about steadying his breathing had exited his mind somehow. He scrambled for ways to calm his now pounding heart; his wide eyes snapped across the room, up at Remus, across the room, up at Remus. What was it again? Something about counting, right? Panic climbed higher and higher until Virgil was sure his throat would close or his heart would burst, whichever came first would be the end of him.

Remus watched, a brow raised as he stroked his reddened cock, inches from finishing himself off. He wasn’t stupid, he knew the telltale signs of Virgil’s panic whatevers. He just didn’t understand them; why they happened, why Virgil made such a big deal out of them. If Virgil knew even a fraction of the things that went through his head, then maybe he’d have something to panic about. Virgil had it pretty easy in comparison.

“What’s with the hissy fit, Purple Heart Attack?” Remus said, voice strained with labored breathing as he closed the distance between them. 

Virgil made a high pitched sound and went to crawl backwards. He was only successful for a moment before Remus caught his hand and brought it up to his cock. Reluctantly, Virgil wrapped his fingers around the width as he was physically instructed.

“C’mon, loser, I’m almost there.” Remus grunted as he forced Virgil’s hand to move against him; eventually he began to mechanically move his arm without aid. 

Just a few more minutes, Virgil told himself, but the dizziness grew a heavy fog behind his eyes as his throat continued to clamp down on itself. His rhythm was uneven, his arm grew numb and Remus’ impatience surmounted into an agitated sound. He slapped Virgil’s hand away and took the final steps to tower over him. Grabbing his own length roughly, Remus stroked fast and hard, his sounds cresting to a loud moan of release as his eyes squeezed shut. Virgil froze, unable to look away until Remus came; his semen landed in streaks across Virgil’s face and the floor behind him.

They both panted, hard and heavy with shaking hands. It was over, but as Remus’ high faded in the afterglow, Virgil’s panic only continued to rise. With a quiet and involuntary cry, Virgil’s hands reached out, searching for a comfort his logical mind, if at all present, would have realized didn’t exist in Remus. Predictably, Remus stepped back, adjusting his pants into place as he avoided Virgil’s grip. 

“What?” He said, tone so condescending, Virgil had almost thought Janus was in the room. “It’s like you said; talking is overrated, right?” 

Virgil’s arms fell as tears burned his eyes. When did Remus get that good at cutting deep? Weren’t his insults always easy to avoid, or at least get over? Even though Remus had just spoken those words, Virgil felt them settling deep in his bones. They would haunt him forever, he could already tell.

“Right.” He sniffled as Remus turned away and headed for the door. Virgil wiped his nose wetly on his sleeve. 

Remus left, not caring that he had closed the door so hard, the wall decor had rattled. Virgil flinched at the sound and pulled his knees to his chest, which certainly didn’t help how difficult it was to breathe. He was glad they always did this in his room; he didn’t think he would’ve had it in him to stand, pull his pants up, and sink out before the loud sobs began. Equally, he didn’t know if the sobs were from anger, embarrassment, or loneliness. Maybe it was some unfortunate mix of all three. 

[krabstick32]

The Problem With Having Hot Weather

Pairing: Giyuu x Reader

Synopsis: You and Giyuu decide to train on a hot day. You deal with sunburn and the consequences. Tags/warnings: No warnings!! This is mostly self-indulgent fluff, but there will be a shirtless person and sunburn. If you’re not comfortable with that please do read something else!!

Word Count: 1,315

A/N: hello! this is the first time i’m posting my writing, so I hope ya’ll like it <3 if you end up liking it, pls do like and reblog!! Oh, and if you have any questions, thoughts, or feelings about this fic, feel free to send me an ask or a message, i won’t mind (*´꒳`*) enjoy!!

You could feel the heat bouncing off the ground, as drops of sweat trailed down your face and onto your clothes. The sun beat down at you mercilessly as you grip your sword tightly, your eyes watching every single movement the man in front of you made. He was motionless, save for the wind rustling against his hair and his clothes. 

Shaking off your heat-induced haze, you made your move in a fraction of a second, raising your sword high above your head before swinging in a strong, solid arc at what was now thin air. Frantically, you turned, your eyes scanning through the clearing until you felt a hard bonk at the crown of your head.

Your grip loosened and you drop your wooden sword, your body following after.

“Tired already?” Giyuu sighed, watching you cradle your head on the floor, before using his training sword to deliver a soft pat to the area he hit you. It wasn’t really painful. He knew his hit only managed to catch you off guard, if not bruise your ego a little. “That was the worst swing, and this is only our third match.”

“Give me a break. It’s too hot,” You moaned, letting your arms flop against the gravel. Turning to your side, you grab the sleeve of your white uniform blouse, using the meager bit of excess cloth to shield you from the sweltering rays of the sun. 

“I swear, this heat should be illegal.” You murmur.

With your eyes closed and your face hidden in the shade of your arm, you didn’t notice him reaching for the top button of his uniform shirt, or for the next, and the next, and the next. He was pulling the white undershirt of his uniform off his shoulders, and in all his sculpted glory, he was suddenly topless, using the piece of cloth to wipe at the sweat that was gathering on his skin. 

You only noticed how absolutely shirtless he was when he moved into your line of vision, sitting on a nearby rock directly in front of your eyes. The muscles on his back and the abs on his stomach were quite hard to miss.

“It should, but that’s not an excuse.” He grumbled, seemingly unaware of how he looked to you right now as he leaned back without a care in the world, not even stopping as he carried on with wiping at his skin.

You could feel the blood rushing into your face, your skin turning to a dark shade of red. Your mouth felt dry (and your heart probably skipped a few beats), before you huff out a little indignant cry, using it to mask how flustered you were getting. Nothing about this situation was fair. 

“T-That’s not an excuse, says the shirtless man. At least you… At least you can breathe in this… ridiculous weather.” In a pathetic attempt of calming down your rapidly beating heart, you placed a hand over your chest, and you did your best to brush off his state of undress.

Because really, you understood why he took off his top. It was high noon, on what was positively the hottest day of the entire season, so every layer of clothing was an unnecessary layer of heat. But there was nothing fair about how good he looked without a shirt on. Perhaps if you were a man, or simply more confident in walking around with only your underwear to shield your dignity, you’d follow him and take your shirt off too. But alas, you were neither, and you were left on the ground, dying from thirst and gawking at his impressive figure.

Apart from the fact that you liked him a lot, the gods decided that your little crush on him simply wasn’t enough, and decided to fan the flames - bless you, curse you, whatever their intention was - by showing him shirtless. He looked downright sinful, with wonderfully sculpted muscles, and skin lightly slick from sweat... Gods, you wanted to throw yourself off a cliff with the direction your thoughts were going.

“It’s not my fault it’s hot.” He argued, looking straight into your eyes.

“Oh, please,” you grumble, immediately averting your gaze to the side, feeling the sun cook your flaming skin to a crisp, “It is one hundred percent your fault why you’re hot.”

You only realized what you said when the words left your mouth, and for a moment, the training grounds were quiet. Your eyes were wide, and his eyes were wide, because ohmygod, you did not just say that.

Please, let it be a heat-induced hallucination, please let it be a-

“What?” He looks at you, confusion clouding his clear blue eyes, the slightest hint of a blush painting his cheeks.  

“WELL,” You jump up quickly, the sole movement the fastest you’ve been the entire time the two of you have been training. “Are you feeling highly parched? Because I’m feeling highly parched! Do you want some water? Okay, you got it!” 

Not even looking at Giyuu once nor waiting for a response, you turned tail and ran as fast as you could without looking too suspicious. Even if you liked him, you don’t think your heart would be able to take another second of his presence while he was shirtless and after you said… that. If the sun hasn’t burned you alive by now, then your embarrassment has surely done the job.

Once you returned and offered him the promised drink, he didn’t comment on the flaming blush settled on your freshly-washed skin, and you didn’t question as to why he suddenly had his uniform shirt back on while his head was suddenly sopping wet, or why there was a trail of water leading to him and the pond a few feet away from the training grounds.

I’m throwing myself off the highest cliff after this.

EXTRA:

As the day went on, onlookers would catch you and Giyuu engage in awkward small talk and silent glances when the other wasn’t looking. 

The blush never really did leave your face even after training. The two of you sparred until dusk, and neither of you could look at the other’s eyes without being reminded of what happened at noon. Because for one, your mind would always display images of him without a shirt on and because two, Giyuu couldn’t believe that he accidentally, unintentionally, undressed in front of the girl he liked.

However, when you were cooling down and tried wiping your skin, you immediately hissed at the burning sensation, and Giyuu did too when he tried to do the same. 

When you two looked at each other’s face, you and him rushed to the butterfly estate. Both of your faces were burnt, and red - smiling hurt, moving hurt, even touching it hurt.

So once Shinobu saw you and the Water Pillar knocking at her office door, she ushered one of you in. Giyuu insisted you get treated first, so he left to wait outside the hall.

Shinobu sighed as you stared up at the ceiling of her office. You were completely red in the face, as the effect of the sunburn and from something else, she could take a wild guess.

“(F/N)-san, a sunburn won’t get you this red, you know.” Closing the jar of ointment she used on your burnt skin, she set it aside on a tray to use on Tomioka once you left. 

“Shinobu-san,” You murmured quietly, eyes not moving. “I should train during hot weather all the time. That’s the only acceptable time to train.”

“Hmm? And why is that?” She humored you, despite having a good guess as to why.

Slowly, you curled in on yourself, hands stopping a centimeter away from your flushed face to cover it, before answering in a small embarrassed voice “O-oh...No reason.”

Shinobu laughed. Her guess was spot on.

[plasticflowering]

A Unifying Theory of Loreography (Lore + Choreography)

(2/3/21) HELLO to all new folks finding this post! It is also now a YouTube Video, and I’m pretty happy with it so if you’d rather get your lore analysis visually please check it out! 

Preface: I don’t think it’s just coincidence that we got full choreography for an intro called “Devil is in the detail”, and I’ve made it my mission since 반박불가 dropped to pull apart the threads that might link everything, lore-wise. This morning I believe I had an epiphany about it, so here are my thoughts.

If this flops I will feel my soul exiting my body so please validate me.

Notes: In forming this theory I mostly considered the events of the storyline MVs and teasers as well as the choreography, but a very important part of my epiphanies came when considering the post-MV stingers for TBONTB and 반박불가. It’s using these stingers that I feel like I can better understand the thesis statements in the choreo. 

Part One: Now then, where were we? 

At the end of TBONTB, the monarchs are approaching monumental, pitch-black gates made of skulls and desperate, reaching hands. 

I can’t not interpret this as the gates of Tartarus, considering the Greek mythology in the canon lore already. Tartarus, however, is at the lowest depths of the underworld, and so my interpretation is that, while they reclaimed their souls from the necklace, they awoke physically in a realm beyond the underworld, and now have to make their way out of this psychological nightmare to breathe free the air, as it were. Through Tartarus, through Hell, this is not because I played 80 hours of Hades in the last three months but it might have a little to do with that. Stay with me. (Though if anyone is wondering, YES Leedo would be Zagreus, but that’s not why we’re here today)

Part Two: Devil is in the Detail 

What an opening formation. The imagery is not 100% clear to me, but I feel as if this entire opening formation sequence is dual-wielding imagery of a crown (much like the killing part of TBONTB), but also the gates of Tartarus. 

Look at this transition once Hwanwoong ascends to the top of the formation, and how the hands all come out, similar to the gates above. I’ll be damned if this is supposed to invoke anything else.

Rewinding a bit, this framing of Seoho being resuscitated and borne by their hands is stunning. Seoho’s journey in the TBONTB choreography merits its own post entirely, because there are a lot of moments that seem to be telling a story for him particularly, and this is just a continuation of that. 

Ravn and Leedo being separated for the rap line part seems like an obvious utilitarian choice, and I agree that it is. However, before we prepare to dismiss all “pairings” as serving the progression of the song itself, I have another theory that ties together a lot of the inciting moments of choreo. I promise you this is going to sound like A Reach, but that’s just how my mind works and if you enjoy it I’m glad.

Leedo, Hwanwoong, and Xion are the monarchs who have absolved themselves by the events of 반박불가, and fully reclaimed their souls as well as their conscience. Seoho and Ravn, not so much. They have a lot of work to do to free their conscience - especially Seoho. Oh, lord, especially Seoho. Keonhee is an extremely interesting case, as he seems to have a foot firmly in both sides, More on that later. 

For further paranoid conspiracy theorist proof of this, please note that their outfits in the choreography videos symbolically reflect this:

Light, Light, Light/Dark, Dark, Dark/Lightish, Light

If you need more convincing, may I point out that Leedo, Hwanwoong, and Xion are the only members who got those wonderful “all clothed in white” shots in the back half of the 반박불가 MV? I tried to make a gif, and I did make a gif, but Tumblr doesn’t want to post it in this text post.

(you rn)

The most interesting moments of loreography in DiitD are the following: 

1. These lotus hands. Again, the imagery, I die!! Keonhee is coming into his own, his character is blooming, expanding his consciousness, going sicko mode with the realization that he has power in the underworld. 

2. Directly following this, Seoho offers a hand to Keonhee and literally drags him down (again, the light/dark dichotomy of Keonhee), while the two good good boys Hwanwoong and Xion are back there just trying to maintain balance so they can get through this Hell/Tartarus thing. 

3. Good ol’ ONEUS Summoning Circle, but wait this time I think it’s actually meaningful beyond the imagery. Seoho is at the center because he has the vocal line, yeah obviously, but he stays there much longer than is objectively necessary without a formation change. This isn’t common in ONEUS choreography. As much as they love their Summoning Circles, they tend to move on to other formations quickly. This one has meat on its bones, and I think what’s happening here, loreography wise, are the other monarchs banding together in an attempt to save Seoho from the darkness. But Seoho is powerfully dark, y’all, even going so far as to overpower them in the moment above. 

4. This is flame imagery. Seoho has been engulfed in flames despite everyone’s best efforts. 

5. At the last minute, he gets yeeted via backflip back into Hell/Tartarus

6. Keonhee takes the initiative in going back for him...

7. We’re back in Hell, that’s just great. Thanks, Seoho. You’re lucky we love you and your extremely disturbed conscience. 

With this in mind, you can probably get way ahead of me, here. 

Part Three: 반박불가 

Perhaps not remarkably, the title track doesn’t have nearly as many loreography beats as DiitD. However, we know it’s part of the lore, and this was made abundantly clear simply with that opening move...

This is where we left off TBONTB, but not exactly. There is a slightly different formation of dancers here, which suggests it’s not picking up exactly where TBONTB left off, but rather that this is a cue to let casual fans know, explicitly: yes, this is a continuation of the TBONTB story. 

Some moments don’t have choreography allusions, but they are loud in the MV, such as:

- “Youngjo, would you stop playing with flowers, our lead vocalist is going to Hell.” Ravn, who barely scraped out of Hell last time, ostensibly with Leedo’s help according to the rap line break in the choreography, has a rough time of it in the 반박불가 MV, but Hwanwoong isn’t going to let him fall back into toxic behaviors and lose himself to that psychological prison again. Hwanwoong drags Ravn back out of Hell, but not before Ravn successfully makes contact with Seoho. Obviously, Ravn would be the one to make contact, because Ravn’s still a little on edge about his own conscience and can easily backslide if he wants to. Who does he find down there? Seoho.

- Keonhee, who led the charge to return to Hell, is staying on task but seems to be the chief of operations to Hwanwoong’s chief of intelligence here, exercising his newfound sicko mode. Those two are certainly working hardest at keeping the servants of darkness in check down in the depths so they can make a quick break for it. 

- Leedo’s actually having a grand time fighting his own demons - or rather, smirking at them and realizing that nah, he’s good. He can use his guilt and regret to motivate him towrd good things now. 

- Xion is literally just above all of this and can move between Hell and Earth with ease, so he’s just waiting to see if he has to pull any Fallen God-Prince cards here to save his friends. 

Now, for the key loregraphy moments. It’s obvious that 1Million was choreographing for a new direction in the ONEUS style, here, so it’s nearly bereft of the usual lyricism and formations, but they’re definitely there. Unsurprisingly they almost all deal with Seoho. 

1. God, this moment whips. They’re all working to free Seoho and lock the gates behind them, with Keonhee giving Seoho one final push. That’s not a normal choreography move. That is storytelling and it sticks out like a beautiful sore thumb with an entire sonnet written on it. 

2. With Seoho on lock, now Ravn may break out. He does so rather easily, but it’s not without Hwanwoong’s help. Please notice that Keonhee and Seoho are the two BEHIND him, and what that symbolizes. 

3. This fucking bridge. It’s amazing with the loreography. First of all we have Keonhee, and the Summoning Circle is using the same imagery/texture that was formerly used to represent engulfing fire. Uh-oh.

4. Keonhee reaches out...

... but gets dragged under.

5. (excited football commentator voice) but who’s that on the outside making it to the surface, literally with the support of the other monarchs? IT’S SEOHO (cheers)!!

And Seoho finishes things out in the center, as well he should because he got us into this mess.

Part Four: What just happened to Keonhee

I’m so angry at this post-MV stinger. It took me forever to wrap my brain around what is being suggested here, because I thought “hey wait, the red lighting represents darkness/hell, doesn’t it?? DOESN’T IT?? RBW???? I thought we just GOT OUT OF HELL????

So I leave the final interpretation in everyone's individual hands, but the thought that occurred to me today was: 

What if this entire scenario was a test of resolve and camaraderie, an illusion, a trick by the Devil (or that donger Helios, whatever). What if Keonhee was the only one who saw through this, and the only one who genuinely made it to Earth at the moment he appeared to have been dragged back to Hell? Because, as we know, Keonhee is a tactical genius, a monarch among the monarchs, and all his visual imagery in the MV suggested a sort of power cabal. 

What if he realized that they weren’t all strong enough to face the challenge of breaking this cycle, so he schemed to leave them behind, but leave them safe in the illusion, while he struck out with the power of God and anime on his side.

I... I think Keonhee is about to go kill and dethrone a God, y’all. 

[fletchphoenix]

Just Another Varigo Coffee Shop AU

Um Hi! Im Fletch and this is my first post / first anything if I’m being honest. And it’s Varigo! I honestly simp so hard for this ship and kinda *okay really hoped* the spinoff would happen but oh well. In the meantime, I shall supply you with this!

------------------------------------------

This was gonna be a long week.

Fresh flakes of snow fell from the sky as Varian trudged down the street, only just out of his classes for the day. A frown covered his features as he finally took notice of the weather he was walking in. His bag weighted heavier on his back the more steps he took, containing various notebooks, textbooks and equipment he needed to use. For now, the snow only seemed to be a minor inconvenience. “I can make it back..” he muttered in reassurance.

Oh, how wrong he was.

Time passed and the snow got progressively more and more heavy. The wind started to howl and pick up in speed, howling and blowing ice cold air. He had to find shelter. Fast. That was when a quaint coffee shop caught his eye. With no other choice, the raven haired boy sprinted towards the store, threw the door open and slid inside. 

The first thing he noticed about the shop was just how warm it was. It instantly erased the numb feeling in his limbs, replacing it with a relaxing heat. The scent of coffee engulfed his senses too - in fact it was all he could smell (not that it was a problem, it was mouthwateringly good. The smell alone made him want more). Tables were filled left and right, however he waded through the mass of people and sat down at the only available space - a booth by a window. Varian silently gazed out of the window.

He hated the snow.

it was snowing on THAT night. The night he put his dad in a coma. He didn’t even mean to - but he just wanted to make his dad proud of him for doing something good, but it didn’t work. He tried to get help for them from Eugene’s girlfriend. He begged. Hell, he even ran through a snowstorm to find them. He couldn’t even feel his hands or feet by the time he got there. But no one helped. That night made him do some awful things..how could they ever forgive him? Did they even forgive him? What if they hated him? What if- What if- What if-

“Hey, can I sit here?”

Varian’s thoughts were halted in an instant as he looked at the source of the voice. The man was tall - most likely around his age - and looked down at him with his mouth tilted in a smile, an eyebrow raised. Blonde locks were styled into an undercut with the top part tied back into a ponytail, and emerald eyes that studied him were framed by a pair of obnoxiously big glasses. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Varian asked, a look of confusion on his face.

“Can I sit here? The shop’s full and I noticed only you were sitting here so...” the blonde’s words died out, smiling as Varian gave him a nod of confirmation. “Great.” he said with a wide smile, sitting down in the booth opposite him. “I noticed we go to the same university. I’m Hugo Atkinson.”

“Varian. Varian Ruddiger.” He replied with a small nod, glancing out of the window again. Snow still fell outside, showing no signs of relenting or stopping at all. A sigh left his lips as he turned his head back to look at his newfound companion, only to find him staring. “Are you okay?”

“Chemistry in senior year. You sit at the back. Professor Xavier. Am I right?” Hugo smirked, not waiting for a reply. “I knew I recognised you! Hey, let me get you a drink. What do you want?” 

“Uh...vanilla latte. One sugar, please.”

“On it, short stuff!” The blonde replied, hastily moving out of his seat and hurrying to the counter before Varian could retaliate. Did he just..call him short? Really? Varian groaned and rested his head on the table. NOW he remembered who he was. The memories flooded back to him of the relentless teasing he’d endured throughout the last year along with the annoying comments. Why did he have to reunite with him of all people? Did the universe just hate him that much?

“He’s certainly changed...” Varian mumbled under his breath. And he had. He wasn’t at ALL unattractive, his face perfectly fit with defined cheekbones, a lanky structure and vibrant, green eyes he could just get lost in...NO! None of that! He knew what Hugo was like. How he dated around and broke hearts of anyone relentlessly in senior year. Nope. Varian was not having any of that, thank you very much. 

A few moments later, Hugo came back with two drinks in hand before settling down opposite Varian again with a smile on his face. 

“Hope you didn’t miss me too much, hairstripe.” he chuckled, laughing when Varian lunged to punch his arm. “Ow! I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I’ll stop.” Hugo settled down, taking a sip of his coffee. “So...what brings you here?”

“Just the snow. It’s way too strong to walk in so I decided not to push my luck.” He replied, taking a sip of his latte. It was perfect, the warmth spreading throughout his body. Coffee was simply the best in weather like this - the taste of vanilla reminding him of how Rapunzel makes them. 

“Me too.” Hugo muttered and raised the cup to his lips again, his free hand moving and tucking a section of his fringe behind his ear. “My mom should be coming to pick me up soon, though.” He added quietly, a dark look appearing on his face before disappearing just as quickly as it came. “Anyway, that isn’t important. How’s everything been?”

“The usual. Boring...only thing that’s keeping me busy is the chem work we’re getting.” He groaned and rubbed at his eyes, yawning before sipping his coffee again. God, this coffee tasted heavenly. 

“Me too. My engineering work is stressful as hell.” Hugo complained and slumped back in his seat.

Varian paused and looked Hugo in the eyes. “Let me look. I’ll help you out and you can help me with my chemistry, Deal?” 

Hugp paused for a moment, considering his offer before standing and shuffling to sit in the booth right beside Varian. Reaching into a previously unseen bag, he dropped 2 pens, 2 pencils, and a notebook onto the spruce table. “Okay Ruddiger, lets do this.”

For what seemed like hours, him and Hugo talked and talked and talked. It felt reassuring, Varian thought, having someone that understood what he was talking about for the most part and to help him. Their topics varied from chemistry to biology to engineering and so much more. At one point, they even spoke about pets! As it turned out, Hugo had a pet mouse called Cheese (”Creative name.” Varian quipped, earning a roll of the eyes and a gentle punch on the arm from the other) and Varian confided about his pet cat, Ruddiger (to which Hugo mocked his previous comment). It felt natural. Nice. 

Of course all good things had to come to an end.

A buzz from Hugo’s phone interrupted their VERY riveting conversation about the logistics of an automaton. “Oh shit, my mom is here.” Hugo said with a frown, his eyes meeting Varian’s. Varian tried, but to no avail, to hide his disappointment. 

“Oh. Well, this was fun-” He started to say.

“Hold on.” Hugo stopped him, reaching out to grab a napkin and a pen, Silently, he wrote on it before passing Varian the napkin with a smile. “See you around, hairstripe.” He added before he was gone, navigating through the crowd of people to get towards the door.

Varian took a second to glance down at the napkin. His face flushed as he saw the note contained Hugo’s number along with ‘Call me x’. He bit his lip gently and glanced in the direction Hugo left in, taking out his phone and inputting the number quietly before picking up his bag and heading to the door. Outside the snow had stopped, leaving a small blanket that. crackled with every step he took. 

When he got home, Varian lay on his bed and stared at his phone or, more specifically, Hugo’s contact. His hands shook with anticipation and anxiety. Oh god, what should he say? What was a normal thing to say to a cute boy from high school you just reunited with? He let out a frustrated cry and flopped back onto his bed, throwing his phone elsewhere on the covers. Why was he so bad at this?

After at least an hour of stressing, pacing and advice from Rapunzel and Eugene, he officially gave up. He slowly picked up his phone and typed out the message.

Varian : Hi, it’s me from the coffee shop.

“Okay Varian...and...” He closed his eyes, his finger hovering over the send button, before pressing it and shutting the phone off. He lay back again and covered his eyes. “HI?! REALLY? THAT’S THE BEST YOU COULD DO?” He scolded himself and covered his eyes. Hugo was gonna think he’s an idiot! A massive idiot! A chime sounded out through the room and, as fast as he could, Varian lunged and picked up his phone to read Hugo’s reply.

Hugo : Heya hairstripe =) 

Hugo : Took you long enough to text me, aha

Varian’s face changed into a smile as him and Hugo continued to talk all throughout the night. Eventually, at 3am, he decided to call it a night and get some rest before his class tomorrow.

Varian : I’m going to sleep - goodnight Hugo

Hugo : Before you dooo....

Hugo : How about another coffee meet? You free Thursday at 1?

Varian let out a loud gasp before sitting up and smiling widely. Hugo wanted to meet up again. Oh my god Hugo wanted to see him again! Giddy with excitement, he picked up his phone and immediately text him back.

Varian : Yep, I am

Hugo : It’s a date <3 see you then Ruddiger. Sweet dreams.

Varian set his phone aside on his bedroom table, a lovesick smile on his face as he lay back and stared at the ceiling. A date. A date with Hugo. He couldn’t help the flush on his cheeks or the butterflies in his stomach as he started to drift off to sleep with Ruddiger jumping and laying beside him in bed. Now he had to wait till Thursday.

This was gonna be a long week.

[monstersandmaw]

Homeless merman (Leyil) x reader - Part Two (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Part One of Leyil’s story was in response a prompt sent in anonymously to @cozycryptidcorner on Tumblr, and I wrote a drabble on my phone, super late at night,  never expecting it to become one of my most popular stories!! And here is the much-asked-for part two!  

Contents: 6200 words, a reader who can't swim getting into a bit of difficulty, and some merman smut...

I hope you enjoy it!! As ever, let me know what you think :). P.S. I love you folks

*********

Getting your new tenant from his temporary home in the town centre’s fountain to your run-down farm on the outskirts was one of the hardest things you’d ever tried to do. Luckily there was an old wheelbarrow in one of the sheds on the farm, so you heaved that up into the bed of your battered old pickup truck and drove to the marketplace to pick him up.

Unfortunately, you discovered when you got there that there was no access for vehicles during the day, so you had to park on a side street, but you’d come prepared with the wheelbarrow. How you were going to get him into it was another matter, but you’d figure that out when it came to it.

Leyil was sitting in his usual space by the statue, hauled out and drying up in the strong sun, surrounded by his few belongings and his cardboard sign which read ‘water please’ propped up nearby, looking exactly as he had the previous day when you'd first met him. His skeletally thin arms hung limply by his sides and he was slumped against the stonework, his breathing laboured, bony ribs rising and falling irregularly, and his dull, drab looking tail-fan spread over the cobbles like an abandoned sheet of newspaper. Someone trod on the tender skin of the caudal fin as they passed and he hissed weakly but otherwise didn’t react.

Anger boiled hot in your stomach at the way folks were treating him, and you hurried closer with your wheelbarrow.

“Hey,” you smiled when you approached, bearing another fresh fish for him from the stall on the other side of the market. You’d picked it up on your way over and you’d even managed to get another shiny trout for him.

When you presented it to him, kneeling down beside him, he looked slowly up at you with his enormous, inhuman eyes, and simply stared.

“Leyil?” you asked. “You remember me from yesterday?”

His breath wheezed and rattled, and he took a couple of goes at speaking before any sound came out. “You… You came back…” he finally rasped.

“Of course I did,” you said, trying to mask shock and upset behind a friendly expression. “Here,” and you offered him the fish. “You hungry?”

He nodded weakly and when you held it a little closer to him, he smiled, cracked lips stretching and his dark eyes filling with tears again.

You let him eat in peace for a while and then offered him a bottle of water, most of which, again, he poured over his gunked up gills with a rattling sigh of relief that struck you deeply. His webbed hands trembled with the effort of holding the bottle, but he didn’t seem to want to let go of it, so you simply let him keep it when he was done with it.

“Thank you,” he said again, voice quavering and dry as a handful of late autumn leaves.

“You’re more than welcome, Leyil. Listen, do you still want to come and see if the lake on my farm is any good for you?”

He swallowed thickly. “Is… Is it far?”

You shook your head and pointed east. “It’s a couple of miles out of town that way. If you don’t like it, I can always bring you back here, but I can’t imagine it’d be much better here than there…”

Leyil managed a lopsided smile and shook his head. The first traces of humour glimmered in his eyes and he agreed with you. “No,” he muttered. “Neither can I.”

You smiled in return and said, “So… I had to park in a street just off the market, but I brought a wheelbarrow with me to help get you there. Is that ok? I’m not sure how we can get you into it though…”

He wheezed a rattling laugh and said, “I could go back to the fountain…” he said, eyeing the low stonework of the fountain’s bowl and then gesturing at the little sheet of cardboard on which he was sitting.

“Ok…” you said, following his train of thought. “You get up onto the wall of the fountain and then scoot over into the wheelbarrow?”

He nodded.

The fountain wasn’t far away, and you offered to gather up his things for him, but he hissed, “Leave them. I don’t want to bring anything with me.”

“Fair enough,” you said, stepping away from the empty takeaway cup and a scrap of ragged fabric beside him. He began to slide on his backside over to the fountain, the cardboard sheet beneath him acting as protection for his delicate and fragile tail as he scooted himself on shaky arms over the rough flagstones of the market square. Panting, struggling for breath, he paused halfway, elbows quivering, muscles shaking.

“Water?” you asked and he nodded.

Unable to hold himself upright and take the bottle from you, he fell backwards onto the warm stones and winced as the sores on his back hit the floor. He finished the rest of the water and lay there a while, gathering his remaining strength.

There weren’t too many folks in the marketplace yet, but those who passed slid by the scene as if stepping round a pile of garbage, pointedly ignoring the pair of you.

A thought occurred to you and, while he recovered, you asked, “Why don’t you stay in the fountain all the time?”

He snorted and croaked, “They treat it with chemicals to stop it going green. I tried… I tried to stay in there all the time when I first… first came here, but…” his breath caught and he gave a horrible, sucking, wheezing inhale.

“Easy,” you said. “Save your breath. You can always tell me later.”

He nodded and concentrated on stilling his uneven, ragged breath.

The rest of the way to the fountain was a hard slog for him, but he made it in the end. It wasn’t far, perhaps ten paces, but he was exhausted. “Leyil, I don’t want to patronise you, but would you like me to help you up onto the wall? I could probably lift you at least that far…” Manoeuvring him into a wheelbarrow was one thing, but heaving his dead weight onto a low sill didn’t seem like it’d be too strenuous, especially given his emaciated state.

Clearly embarrassed, he nodded, and you leaned in close to him, sliding your arms under his and hoisting him up to sit on the low, stone wall. You scuffed his backside on the rough wall and he winced but said nothing, even when you apologised. He smelled truly awful, like fish left out to rot in the sun, but you figured that you wouldn’t smell too pretty if you’d had to live on the streets either.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, head hanging low as he turned his face away from you.

“It’s not your fault, Leyil,” you said again. “Take your time, then we can swing you into the wheelbarrow. I’m just so sorry it’s all so undignified…”

The merman barked a hoarse laugh and turned his intelligent, sharp eyes to your face. His silent gaze said so much, but he added, “Living on the streets and being spat on by passers by is degrading… a little indignity like this, I can deal with.”

You smiled, a warm admiration sweeping in to replace the anger that still frothed inside you at the way he’d been treated. As if sensing this, he reached a cold, clammy hand for your wrist and gripped you with unexpected strength.

“Don’t pity me. I refused to leave the lake. I should have gone…”

“Even if you refused to go, you shouldn’t have been treated like that…”

He shrugged and let go. “Most people here have never seen a merman. I think they’re afraid of us.”

“Why?”

The sharp-toothed smile you got was hardly reassuring. “Don’t you know the stories?”

You raised an eyebrow and he laughed huskily.

“We sing the landfolk to their doom and feed on them…”

“Is that true?” you asked, suddenly afraid that you’d offered him a home in your lake. You fought the urge to yank your wrist out of his cold grasp. “I thought it was just a fairytale…”

His smile remained, but the gentleness in his weedy-green eyes softened it and he let go of you. “Some of us know the songs and have the magic, but your kind is in no danger from me. I just want a place to live.”

“Well, let’s get you into the truck and into my lake then,” you said, goosebumps shivering along your skin as you tried to put your disquiet to rest.

He swung himself into the wheelbarrow with surprising grace but he gasped as his sensitive, sore skin hit the chilly metal. He laughed a moment later and tried to tuck his tail up out of the way of where your feet would be walking. He lacked the strength, however, and it flopped back down to trail in the dust like a ragged train, leaving him panting and shaking.

“I’ll be careful,” you reassured him, and he smiled, too tired for speech.

People stared openly as you wheeled him out of the marketplace, and as one particularly rude human gawped at him, he bared his teeth and hissed like a cat at them until they turned and scurried away.

“Nice,” you grinned slyly at him and he chuckled. He still looked exhausted, but behind the pallor of his sunken cheeks there was a slight colour beginning to rise.

It took a bit of jostling to get him from the wheelbarrow into the front seat of the truck, but eventually he was in, and he laid his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. He sat there, unmoving and barely breathing, clearly exhausted, while you loaded up the barrow into the bed at the back and then returned to fasten his seatbelt. He watched you with curious eyes but offered no comment as you reached close to him again.

As the truck rumbled out of the town, he stared at the pine trees as they flashed past with a look of wonder on his gaunt face. His skin was so pale it seemed to glow, and you noticed little patches of scales on his shoulders and at his elbows, the same colour as his dirty, jade green tail.

“It’s beautiful,” he whispered perhaps a mile later down the road.

You glanced over at him again and he shot you a look before returning his eyes to the countryside beyond. “I’m new to the area,” you said carefully, worrying about bringing up his old home, “Is the countryside like this around the lake where you used to live?”

He nodded wistfully. “Yes.”

“Can I ask why you didn’t leave with the others? I heard they were offered a new home…”

He lowered his head. “I should have gone with my family.”

“You spawned here though, right?”

Leyil nodded once. “Each water system has its own unique composition,” he said, staring at his webbed hands in his lap. He’d begun to slide down the seat a bit, but he made no effort to straighten again. “I… I couldn’t bear the thought of being in a different water system - it gives us our life, our nutrients; makes the fish taste the way they do and, well, it gives us our magic.”

“You’d be without your magic if you moved somewhere else?”

He shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. Maybe? Or it wouldn’t behave the same.”

“Can I ask what kind of magic you have?”

He turned his enormous eyes to you again. “I’m a singer,” he said. “But I promise you, you’re in no danger from me.”

“Right,” you said weakly. Inviting an aquatic predator to your home who could lure you to your death was beginning to feel like a very bad idea.

His shoulders sagged and he swallowed thickly. “I promise you,” he hissed insistently.

“Ok.”

The rest of the ride passed in an awkward silence, and when you finally bounced to a halt at the end of your rutted driveway, he looked like he was about to hurl. Merfolk apparently didn’t travel well in vehicles.

You fetched the wheelbarrow again and when you came round to his door, his webbed hands were pressed flat against the glass of the window, and his eyes were wide with amazement as he gazed out at the lake in the distance, his queasiness apparently forgotten.

You knocked on the glass and he sat back, allowing you to undo his seatbelt again before using the door and handle to swing himself down into the wheelbarrow. A couple of his dull scales had fallen from his tail into the foot-well of the car but you ignored them and concentrated on getting him to the water.

At the shores of the still, black lake that was probably a quarter of a mile long, though nowhere near as wide, and flanked on each side by tall, dark pines and long grasses that dipped their heads towards the water as if in a reverent bow, you halted and Leyil released his white-knuckled hold on the edge of the wheelbarrow.

“Alright,” you said. “I think it’s deep enough here that I could probably just slide you into it from the bank,” you said. “It’s not very dignified, but it’ll be effective…?”

He smiled up at you and laughed excitedly, his row of razor sharp teeth glimmering in the greenish light of the lake shore air. “It smells wonderful,” he said. “Please, I can’t wait. I think I’ll probably try to leap into the water like a salmon if you don’t tip me in immediately…”

“Ready then?” you laughed and he nodded.

The splash he generated when he hit the weedy water soaked you, and he disappeared immediately below the surface with the speed of a hunting eel.

“You’re welcome…” you murmured when he showed no sign of reappearing after another few minutes. You stood there and watched for his reappearance for a good five minutes, but he never showed, so you rolled the wheelbarrow back to the tumble-down barn and decided to get to work on some jobs in the farmhouse. Plugging a leak in the roof was a priority if the weather report was to be believed.

A thunderstorm rolled in that afternoon and you spent the duration of it huddled up in your living room with a book beside the fire, hoping that he was alright.

The moment the rain stopped, perhaps a few hours later, you flung on some wellies and tramped across the sodden grass towards the lake. The shore was dotted with huge boulders here and there, and a wide, pebbled cove stretched in a half moon along the nearest shore to the house. In the wake of the rain, a gentle mist had begun to form and it drifted through the pines in thick clouds, hanging low over the surface of the water.

“Leyil?” you yelled, your voice echoing eerily back at you. A crow circled from the nearest tree top, but other than that, the scene was still.

You waded out into the clear shallows, your rubber boots allowing you to slosh around up to about a foot or so. You bent down and waggled your fingers through the chilly water a few times and called his name again. If he was at the other end of the lake, there was probably no way he could hear you.

Perhaps three or four minutes later, his head broke the surface of the water and he grinned, swimming rapidly towards you. Instinctively you took a step or two back until you were out of the water and standing on the glistening grey pebbles of the shore, still wet from the downpour.

He powered up into the shallows where you’d been standing only a moment before and then leaned on his forearms, his tail fanning out behind him in the water as he looked up at you. “It’s perfect!” he exclaimed, rolling over in the water and coming back to rest on his elbows again. “It’s even the same water as my old lake!”

“I’m glad,” you said. “Is there enough for you to eat?”

Leyil nodded vigorously. “And there’s a big old pike here too. He’s mean, but I think I’ve shown him who’s boss now.”

You couldn’t help but grin. “That’s a relief,” you said. “I wanted you to have a home where you felt safe. The storm didn’t trouble you?”

“Nope,” he smiled. He was still gaunt and emaciated, and his skin still had sores and cuts on, but a lot of the life seemed to have soaked back into him. Perhaps what he’d said about his magic being connected to the water system was true. He must have read something in your expression that you hadn’t meant to show because he tilted his head to one side, his long, lank, black hair dripping into the gently lapping water at the shore, and he murmured, “Did it trouble you?”

You managed a smile. “I’m not a big fan of thunderstorms. Especially not with a leaky house…”

“Oh,” he said, his good mood tarnishing visibly. “I… I’m sorry. I wish I could help you… could repay you for your kindness…”

“Just enjoy yourself and my lake,” you said, trying to force a smile. You really meant it, but somehow you felt as damp as the leaves around you. If you’d thought that bringing him here was going to provide you with some company, you were just beginning to realise that you and he really were totally different creatures, with totally different habits and behaviours, and you might only rarely glimpse him if he happened to surface while you were at the shore. Your life was going to be just as lonely as it had before.

But looking down at him, you knew that none of this was about you. This was about giving Leyil his dignity and pride back, and giving him a home where he could thrive.

“I will,” Leyil said, bowing his head. “And I will cherish it. Thank you.”

You shivered in the damp air and drew your coat around your collar. “I… I think I’m going to head back inside,” you said, “But I’ll see you around, ok?”

Leyil shimmied back into the deeper water and vanished with a flick of his tail.

Life settled back into its previous rhythm. You worked on the farm, trying to get it back to a state where you might be able to keep animals - just a few chickens, maybe some geese - and that took up a lot of your time.

As you shuttled between the buildings on the little tractor you’d bought, or ferried fence posts across the yard, or lugged paint cans from the barn to wherever they were needed, you always kept half an eye on the lake. Sometimes you would see Leyil breach the surface for a moment, and sometimes he would wave at you from a distance, but mostly you both kept to yourselves for the next few weeks.

One afternoon in late summer, as the temperatures soared, you made your way down to the lake and took off your heavy steel toe-capped boots and your socks and paddled out just a little way into the water. It was deliciously cool and you moaned a private, soft sigh at the beautiful sensation.

The glimmering ghost of a figure moved a few metres off shore while you still cooled your toes, and you watched as Leyil slowed and bobbed his head above the surface. His hair was pretty long now, streaming down his back, and his figure had filled out more. He was still skinny, but he no longer looked starved. “You should come in!” he laughed. “It’s hot today!”

With half an involuntary step backwards, you shook your head.

“Why not?” he asked, seeming oddly disturbed by your fear of the water.

“Can’t swim,” you said.

His eyes went wide and his mouth opened a little way. “You bought a house with a beautiful lake and you can’t swim?” he asked, astonished.

“Guess so,” you smiled.

After a pause he tucked his long hair behind his ear and said, “I could try and teach you?”

Bile rose up your throat and you felt your heartbeat triple in pace. “Um… thanks, but… I’m… I’m not sure…”

“Please?” he said, recovering from his surprise and swimming a little closer. “Please; this is something I can do for you!” he smiled, green eyes wide. “I can give you something for what you gave me!”

“Leyil, you’re a predator,” you blurted, adrenaline coursing through you at the thought of water pressing in on all sides. “I’m not getting in the water with you.”

Shock wiped his face blank of joy and he simply stared at you.

“I mean…” you said. “I didn’t mean it like that, but…”

If you’d slapped him he couldn’t have looked more surprised. Without a word, he turned and vanished beneath the surface.

“Shit,” you cursed. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Leyil didn’t appear at all for a week after that, though you went down to the lake morning and night to try and apologise for your unthinking and hurtful words.

Two weeks slipped by and you didn’t see the faintest sign of him. He refused to come to the surface when you waded into the water up to your calves, and you didn’t even catch the slightest glimpse of him at a distance beneath the water.

On the hottest day of the year so far, you made a decision.

Before you lost your nerve, you stalked down to the lake again and stood there a moment, breathing deeply, pulse thrumming. Then you stripped down to your underwear and waded out into the lake. It was breathtakingly cold and as it lapped at your tummy button it made you gasp. With your arms held up out of the water, you stood there with it up to your ribs, heart hammering, breath ragged and shallow and quick.

“Leyil?” you yelled across the lake. “Leyil… I… I’d really like to apologise to you… I don’t know if you can hear me, but… well… I’m in the water…”

You ground your teeth and dunked your shoulders in with a screech as the cold water closed around you. You just about kept your head above the water, your feet staggering on the uneven bottom of the lake. You knew it was stupid to go in the water when you couldn't swim, but you couldn't think of any other way to get Leyil to notice you.

Taking a few tentative paddles, you tipped forwards and had a go at swimming.

And failed. Immediately.

The water slipped through your fingers like sand and you began to sink. Panic, blind and raw, overwhelmed you and you screamed just as your mouth went under and the water sloshed over your head.

A flash of white in the murky depths was instantly followed by an arm hooked around your waist and you found yourself powering through the water. For a horrible moment you thought you were going to be dragged down, but your head broke the surface an instant later and Leyil drove you onto the pebbles of the shore with the power of a charging orca whale, his wide eyes full of fear.

“What are you doing?” he hissed at you, his chest heaving as though he’d swum a great distance at a flat out sprint. Perhaps he had. “You can’t swim!”

“I…” you coughed, shaking violently all over. “I’m sorry…”

He stroked your face with his smooth, cool hand. “Shh,” he said. “Just breathe.”

“I hurt you,” you spluttered.

“Yes,” he said.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Not really. I’m afraid of the water, not of you… not really.”

He grinned and you glimpsed sharp teeth. “I could have had you just now if I wanted,” he said. “But I’d rather have you alive, and as my friend, than as my dinner, alright?”

“That’s… somehow not very comforting…”

Leyil laughed. “Ah, there you are; you’re back,” he said, and you realised that you could breathe more easily again.

You sat up, limbs still shaky, and looked at him.

“You scared the hell out of me…” he said. “I heard you from the other side of the lake, heard the ripples, and then I heard you trying to swim. I felt it. I felt you drowning…”

Now it was his turn to start shaking.

“I was so afraid I wouldn’t get to you in time…” he said in a tiny voice. “You saved me, and I was so afraid I wouldn’t be able to save you.”

“I’m sorry,” you said again, throat hoarse and sore.

He looked at your mostly-naked body and reached his palm out to your chest, right below your collarbones. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured before withdrawing his touch and clearing his throat. “You should warm up. You’re trembling…”

“The sun’s warm,” you said. “I can just lie here for a bit.”

“You mind if I stay with you?”

You snorted a laugh. “Sure, but I’m not stupid enough to try and come in again,” you said bitterly. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

Leyil’s little chattery laugh livened your spirits a little and he lay on his belly in the shallow water of the shore at right angles to you while you stretched out on the pebbles. After a while, he started to haul himself out to lie next to you.

“What are you doing?” you asked, confused. “Won’t you dry out…?”

He smiled and shook his head. “I don’t mind,” he said. “And it’s not exactly far to get back into the water,” he added, slapping his tail fin down where it still trailed in the surface of the lake and sending fine drops splattering through the air to land on your sun-warmed skin. “Do you mind?”

You shook your head.

After a while, your heartbeat returned to normal and your breathing evened out again.

You turned your head to look at him, only to find him staring at you. He was still lying on his front, with his chin propped nonchalantly in his elegant, talon-tipped hands. The webbed skin between his fingers was translucent and beautiful as alabaster, and you noticed that where his tail had been drab and dull before, it now gleamed with a myriad colours like an opal in full sunlight.

“What?” he asked softly when he noticed your eyes roaming all over him.

“You’re looking well, that’s all,” you said, heat creeping up your neck. He was exquisitely beautiful and you felt your mouth beginning to go dry.

He cocked his head to one side and smiled wryly, which only made you flush hotter.

After a while you asked, “Leyil…?”

“Mmm?” He had laid his head down drowsily on his forearm and was staring at you while you closed your eyes and let the sun warm you through.

“Would you sing for me?”

“You want me to sing for you?” he asked, surprised.

“Yes.”

“But what about that ‘predator’ comment?”

You shrugged without opening your eyes. “I do trust you really.”

He sighed and then you jumped as his hand cool touched yours. “Thank you,” he said, and when you opened your eyes you saw that his own were glistening softly. “I promise you that you’re in no danger from me.”

“I know,” you said. “I… I let my fear of the water become a fear of you, which wasn’t fair.”

He shrugged and sat up, bracing his upper bodyweight on his left arm while his tail fin still lay in the water like a leaf on a pond. “I understand.” He inhaled deeply and then asked, “What sort of song shall I sing you?”

You looked at him and said, “What do you feel like?”

“It’s funny,” he said nervously, “I haven’t felt like singing in a long time. The last time I sang, I was leaving my home behind because the water was draining and the lake was turning into a mud bath. I crawled into the city looking for help and ended up living in the fountain.”

“Leyil,” you said gently. “You don’t have to sing if you don’t want to… if it’s too painful…”

He shook his head. “No, I’m ready. It’s about time. Perhaps I’ll sing a new song about this place, and about you.”

“I’d love to hear it.”

Leyil closed his gorgeous eyes and seemed to fall into an almost meditative state for a while, but soon he began to hum.

It started soft as the breeze in the trees beside the lake, a mere whisper across the rippling water, and despite the warmth of the sun, goosebumps rose and prickled along your arms and legs at the sound of it. His rough, hoarse speaking voice turned into liquid sound, smooth and flowing as a stream over rounded river rocks, and the music he made was truly unearthly.

The melody ebbed and flowed, now soft, now strong, and soon you found tears rolling down your cheeks as he sang, almost without stopping to breathe. It had begun as a heartbreakingly sad tune, so much so that your chest physically hurt at the emotions he poured into his haunting song, but as he let it continue, his haunting voice rolling over the water and the trees with the impact of distant, rumbling thunder, it began to change. An immense joy surged through his voice and he tilted his head back, throat working, chest heaving, as he unleashed his song to the sky.

It seemed to vibrate in your ribcage and buzz in your ears as his magic filled your consciousness completely. You became aware of everything: the water lapping at the pebbles; the pine needles bristling in the dense forest behind you; the fish darting like shadows in the shallows; the weeds wafting back and forth in the softly shifting currents of the lake; the feel of the chill water on Leyil’s broad tail; the press of the stones against his scales; the incredible warmth of your hand in his…

With a gasp you let go of him, snatching your fingers back, snapping the contact, and the spell was broken.

Leyil fell silent.

He opened his eyes, breathing hard, and smiled a little at you, blinking slowly as though dazed.

“Leyil,” you breathed.

“You felt it, didn’t you?” he asked when he’d recovered his equilibrium a little. “You felt my magic… Not everyone can, you know?”

You had no response to that for a while until you whispered, “I think I felt what you were feeling as you sang…”

His smile broadened. “Then you’ll know how grateful I am to you for giving me all this,” he said, reaching for your hand again.

This time you did not recoil. You let him run his palm up your forearm towards your shoulder, tracing the contours of your body as much with his eyes as with his touch. The merman shuffled a little closer to you and you lay back again as he turned his intense, green stare along your body and at your legs stretched out on the smooth pebbles.

Looking back at your face for permission, he moved his hand to your bare stomach and then to your hips. Your breath caught as he circled his thumb at your hip bone and then moved down your thighs. He lingered there a while, exploring and enjoying the feel of your bare, warm skin against his cool hand.

His eyes shone, and under the intense scrutiny and closeness of the merman, you began to flush hotter. He tilted his head like a curious bird, never breaking eye contact with you. “What do you want?” he asked in a rasping voice, so different from his singing voice.

“You,” you murmured after a pause. “Leyil, is this… is this because of your song?”

He shook his head. “My song was about this place and about you. I could sing you a different song if you’d like, but… I want you to… I want you to be… free to choose…”

“Me too,” you said firmly.

He leaned in close and slowly pressed his lips to yours. You’d expected him to taste unpleasant, perhaps like fish, but he didn’t. He tasted of the pure, clean lake water, and his sharp teeth raked across your lips while his hands went to your shoulders to steady himself.

“I want you,” he managed to hiss a moment later, pushing himself upright. “Is that wrong?”

You shook your head. “No.”

He smiled and bit his lip. “Your body,” he said. “It’s… It’s so strange to me, and yet so beautiful…”

“So’s yours, Leyil,” you chuckled, floundering a little as you tried to sit up.

Gently, the merman rolled onto his back and let you explore him in turn.

The injuries he’d suffered while on land had faded to corded scars, as though his milk pale skin had been darned with white silk. His hips were angular and sharp, his stomach taut and lean, his arms and chest muscular but slender, and his face had become angularly beautiful instead of gaunt. But it was his tail that truly fascinated you. The shimmering colours in his scales glittered in the sun, and as you ran your fingertips lightly down his stomach and over the transition from bare skin to scales, he gasped, chin jutting upwards and spine arching off the dark grey pebbles beneath him.

“You like that?” you asked, and he nodded frantically so you did it again, eliciting the same response. “You’re sensitive, aren’t you?”

Just below where his tail began, at roughly the point where a human male would have a cock, you noticed that there was a slit in the flesh that glistened with fluid, and the more you touched him, the slicker it became. The flesh seemed to grow puffy there too, swelling as his chest began to heave and his breathing rasped in furious, desperate pants. His clawed hands scrabbled at the pebbles beneath him and he began to whine and gasp as you circled your touch closer and closer to what you knew had to be a sheath.

Running your fingertips around the edges of it, you heard him give a sharp cry of pleasure. “Shall I stop?” you teased and he whimpered desperately.

“Please! Please don’t!” he blurted, bucking weakly and writhing.

As you smiled and dipped a fingertip inside his slick, swollen sheath, he lurched, shoulders hunching inwards as he almost sat up, handsome face contorted in a grimace of exquisite pleasure, and you realised that beneath the pad of your fingertip, you had found a little rough patch at the top of his sheath. You circled it lightly, tenderly, and he cried out in a long, broken wail that made your ears ring as he flung himself back down onto the beach and arched his back into your touch again.

Slowly, his cock began to free itself from the confines of the sheath. Where his tail was an opalescent, greenish blue, the inner walls of his sheath were delicate, pale pink, and the cock that writhed out was forget-me-not blue at the base, fading to pink up the thick shaft, and the swollen, weeping, spear-shaped head was a dark, vibrant pink, flushed with pleasure. Pearly pre-come rolled down the length of his cock as you continued to trace circles on that sensitive bundle of nerves just inside his sheath, and he practically sobbed with desperation.

“Please…” he gasped, tears spilling from the corners of his eyes. “It’s so good… please…”

“You want me to touch your cock too?” you asked and he nodded mutely.

You wrapped your other hand around his hard length and he yelled again, his torso contracting in spasms until you thought he might be coming. However, he continued to writhe and moan beneath your touch a little while longer before he forced his large, inhuman eyes open and rasped, “Please… let me… let me come…”

“I’m not stopping you, Leyil…” you said, gripping his hard cock even tighter.

His magic reached out for you then, that familiar feeling from earlier wrapping around your senses and he breathed frantically in rapid, shallow gasps, gills opening too in an attempt to suck in as much oxygen as possible as his pleasure reached its peak. His sheath contracted and pulsed and suddenly he came with a scream of pleasure that you felt in your chest, still connected to him by his magic. His back arched, his head flung back, chin raised, and he released over your hand and his own stomach in a series of messy, convulsing waves.

You had never been so turned on in your whole life, and as he slowly came back down and opened his eyes, he saw your arousal and smiled.

“Let me thank you properly,” he slurred softly, and this time you didn’t refuse him.

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[ragnaofazure]

Characters that were, or never were.

((Hello! This is a list of characters I have actually played on or off the site (like Discord), wanted to or considered quite strongly but never followed suit to do so or whatever.))

((It will all be under read more; this is a long post! If you are interested? Have fun discovering who was in any corner of my repertoire! The list should not be that extensive! I will reblog it if I added anyone new I could recall and forgot to initially should that happen. These are mostly in some form of chronological order with added notes about what their place is with me and more.))

Yu Narukami - (Persona 4)  

Additional note: (Have to biasedly put him first at the top and say how he was my true first muse here, lasted literal years. All my experience comes from him and his blog. He reached nearly 1k followers between both regular and not safe blogs, my true labor of love lost to me deciding to deactivate the blog. Some know me from him originally! You all know who you are!))

Sal (or “Syake”/”Syake-san”) - (Wadanohara and the Great Blue Sea)

Additional note: (My first attempt at a second character and his blog did kinda work for a while, getting a lot of interactions during the original Funamusea craze back in the day. First time playing a truly well evil character and learned lots. His blog eventually died down and faded, but it was an experience I haven’t forgotten.)

Nepgear - (Hyperdimension Neptunia)

Additional note: (A standalone blog attempt again, flopped hard due to how the fandom seemed to have it’s problems on the RP side as well as my own personal reservations (met some couple of awesome people there still around me today though!). One of the most ways to trash a character by a series that had a bit of an identity crisis in the writing department as the years went on. Still not over how hard they literally screwed this good girl over. Every single time.)

Iku Nagae - (Touhou Project)

Additional note: (Part of an incredibly failed multimuse project (that Nepgear was the face of and part of as well for that matter after her blog flopped) and she never got to really experience light of day. I had only the idea of how I wished to portray the character and I still do, but at the same time, I have no idea if it would have earned me the most interactions, admittedly. All due to how passive she is.)

Varus - (League of Legends)

Additional note: (Me having a thing for characters with tragic stories of loss? Are doomed as if fittingly to pay for their sins and as a cost for the tools to live and revenge? He spoke to me way before Ragna. I knew how I wanted to write him, give him flair given his character, which other Champions I wished for him to interact with soon... I had a much clearer idea. But ultimately, also part of the doomed multimuse blog that never took off.)

Goomy - (Pokémon)

Additional note: (No gijinka, only small, sticky bby that I debatably would never allow to evolve and, of course, could talk. Best Dragon type line to ever exist don’t even @ me okay. It’s just... cute. The anime really made it stick out and I loved it. I always also have loved essentially weaker characters and creatures a lot, thus... It resonated with me greatly and idea of how I was going to go about him (yes, had decided on male for it). Again, multimuse failed, so he went away with it.)

Karol Capel - (Tales of Vesperia)

Additional note: (Weak that could be truly strong when overcoming his fears, and that resonated with me given how I consider myself a coward in real life. I also have a thing also for playing characters everyone finds annoying to make them look better when they should not be as disliked too. And once more, multimuse, gone with it, never found a place to remotely discover if I would have also wanted to play him at large either too.)

Elphelt Valentine - (Guilty Gear)

Additional note: (I don’t need to say anything, most of you knew her enough! Blog flopped hard and I couldn’t find the activity I desired. Why I played her? Just... bubbly sweet girl that didn’t want to act on her capability to be deadly as a Gear and only wished for happiness, I liked all that sugar with that depth I tried to give her. As of recent times, Tumblr locked me out and I could not log back in. I sort of took it as a message as to why I maybe shouldn’t try with secondary blogs to a big degree.)

The Masochistic Admiral/Commander/Master(?)/Doctor(?) - (Kantai Collection-Azur Lane (Maybe even Fate and Arknights???) )

Additional note: (So this is a nameless original Admiral/Commander character by the artist known as “Yamamoto Arifred” (look up on danbooru tags under Kantai Collection alongside). I absolutely fell in love with this guy. How I wish it was possible to play him further then I did, I revisit the art work every so often and every day I recall why I liked him so, so much. He’s just beyond amusing, wacky, outright insane and nonsensical in many good shapes and forms. But he only wants one thing: All under him to succeed and become the best they can be under his very questionable yet effective command. I could go on and on but this is already long enough. Standalone blog, flopped due to lack of activity.)

Thief (”Touzoku”) Arthur - (Million Arthur series)

Additional note: (Super unknown series, super unknown plot, I only met all the characters via the available and uncared for fighting game... And her backstory plus design gave me so many ideas I wanted to play around with as a thief wielding a goddamn Excalibur. Of the first characters I said I wanted to play on impulse alone, but who would have cared? Where could she have fit? It was the bigger discouraging thoughts. I have some icons still... But as always, the hesitation from impulse in itself.)

Hassan of the Serenity - (Fate Prototype/Fragments - Grand Order)

Additional note: (Best Assassin, best girl, only Servant that has brought me to tears in this extensive series, for the love of anything holy let her be happy I swear to God, everything about her cuts me so deep, I can’t deal with it every time I think about it ...I’m calm. But really. She touched me so, so deep. I was normally indifferent for so many years about Fate until I stumbled upon the Prototype duology, and subsequently, the Fragments side. After learning her origins and more, her wishes... I can’t state it enough. I am passionate about this girl. She deserves the world. And I would have loved to give her the best if I got to write her.)

Peri - (Fire Emblem Fates - Heroes)

Additional note: (What everyone sees as an annoying, questionable character and way more, I see as yet another pick for me with great potential to try and develop to be liked more by many, for she is not completely disposeable. I had ideas and wanted to take her further while still having her not lose the tendencies she has, because that would be breaking and disregarding character, but sadly, Peri never as much as left my constant thoughts then trying to privately sample around for myself, would have loved to, though. Very.)

Sigurd - (Fate Grand Order)

Additional note: (Amazing design, amazing voice... Literal definition of: “Do it for her”, loves his partner despite their fate... Incredibly underrated man. He is simply the best and I was interested in finding footing to play him, as he deserves to be noticed more for just being... Simply amazing. There is not much more to say than that, he is cool and that is final. Don’t even fight me on these cold, hard facts.)

[ohshcscenerios]

The Case for Takashi x Haruhi P.4

Welcome back to the Case for Takashi x Haruhi, the series that travels through the manga and makes a case for why they should have been together. If you haven’t read Part One, Part Two, or Part Three they will be linked for your convenience. I would advise catching up before moving forward with Part Four. Because there is so much to unpack from Volume 5 it will be split between Part Four and Part Five (due to the length of the post being too long).

Please Note:

This post will contain examples from the manga so if you haven’t read the manga yet be prepared for “spoilers”.

This is all in the name of fun. I am by no means insulting or discrediting other pairings. I am just a person trying to spread more MorixHaru love into the world. 

Please feel free to agree or disagree. 

Shall we begin? 

We begin Volume 5 with Haruhi first learning about her inadequate test scores, landing her the third rank in her class. The Host Club is surprised considering how intelligent she is and they offer her their condolences. The anime doesn’t include this episode but the live action does. 

I’ve mentioned before how in the anime Takashi isn’t shown to comfort Haruhi in any way. He is either standing off to the side or appears disinterested altogether. Even during the beach episode when the hosts had a serious conversation with Haruhi the anime showed Takashi completely separated from the conversation; peacefully eating his crab without a care. However in the manga this is obviously not the case because Takashi is actively listening and involved in the conversation, even patting her head when she agrees to apologize. 

So it’s safe to say that outside the manga Takashi is not as supportive and comforting as he truly is. The live action does a better job at displaying his sensitive personality but the anime almost portrays him as a robot compared to his manga self. 

With that being said, we see another example of Takashi comforting and supporting Haruhi in a way the anime (for some reason) chose not to express. The twins give her a noogie but Takashi also offers a pat on the head. 

Why is this important? Takashi actively cares for Haruhi. He’s not in the background silently watching as he does in the anime. Takashi wants an active role in Haruhi’s life, not just a by-stander who happens to know her (as we sort of see in the anime). He wants to be called her friend rather than an acquaintance and to me that is very important. 

Anime Takashi isn’t as involved with Haruhi as Manga Takashi. Not only does the difference create an injustice for the pairing but also for the character. Takashi is more layered in the manga but in the anime he’s barely a two-dimensional character with absolutely no background history. In fact, the anime doesn’t even introduce us to Satoshi, his younger brother yet we meet Yasuchika, Mitsukuni’s younger brother. If I’m not mistaken, the episode in which Yasuchika declares Mitsukuni an “alien” and agrees to duel with him - that is the same episode we’re introduced to Satoshi however he doesn’t make an appearance in the anime. Takashi’s life is swept under the rug once again, giving him the short end of the stick. Takashi’s character isn’t recognized which pushes him further into the background. 

In the manga Takashi has more facial expressions and is shown behaving like his sensitive caring self. This is important because most of his “acts of comfort” are directed on Haruhi. 

The hosts ask her to choose which host will be her private tutor for the make up exam. Although it’s not made clear which subject Haruhi flopped in, each host offer their expertise. There’s a tiny little detail in this frame that I found quite interesting. 

Takashi offers to help her in history. Why is that interesting? Haruhi’s favorite subject is history. Now, this doesn’t mean she’d need help in history. I find this detail interesting because it further proves why they are compatible. 

We are going to fast forward into the next episode when the Host Club joins Haruhi in Karuizawa. This is also when the Refreshing Battle takes place, which we will dive deep into. 

The first little detail I’d like to discuss is their respective jobs. Tamaki and Mitsukuni are busy fixing a fence while the Hitachiin twins are escorting guests to their rooms. Kyoya isn’t actively participating which we see later on. So where is Takashi?

I’d like to point out that Takashi isn’t with Mitsukuni during this Refreshing Battle, like we’d expect. Normally Takashi is always by Mitsukuni’s side and chooses to participate in whichever task he’s doing. Usually the pair chooses to stick together like the Hitachiin twins. However this isn’t the case here. Mysteriously, Mitsukuni is keeping Tamaki company outside while Takashi is inside... with Haruhi. 

Now this may not seem like a big deal but let’s continue, shall we?

Takashi is inside meddling with the tables when Misuzu asks Takashi to fix a table’s chair legs. He responds with, “Certainly.” 

Notice how he didn’t respond with his usual “sure” or silent nod. Takashi is trying to act refreshing. Takashi is actively trying to win the Refreshing Battle. 

I would also like note that Mitsukuni isn’t taking this battle seriously. He’s a smart individual. He knows how to flaunt his cuteness. He’s strong enough to perform physical labor. Yet he chooses to goof off and watch Tamaki fix a fence. He isn’t even helping with the fence but simply keeping a conversation with Tamaki. Mitsukuni isn’t trying to win the Refreshing Battle, he’s just trying to have fun with his friends. 

So if Takashi knows that Mitsukuni isn’t trying to win the one free room wouldn’t that encourage him to also not win? If Takashi was simply going to follow Mitsukuni wherever he went it wouldn’t be fair to the other hosts to potentially win without really intending on staying in the room. 

Kyoya also reveals how the hosts plan on staying in Karuizawa; at Mitsukuni’s vacation home because it’s the closest. Kyoya even had Tachibana deliver his luggage there. So Mitsukuni never planned on staying in Misuzu’s pension because he could look forward to having a sleepover with his friends. 

So why is Takashi trying so hard to appear refreshing? He wants to win the room! He actually wants to stay in Misuzu’s pension. He wants to win this opportunity to experience a “bed and breakfast” with Haruhi. 

There isn’t any reason for Takashi to be chopping firewood but he is. Why? I have a theory that goes beyond trying to win the Refreshing Battle and it ties with the hosts’ confrontation with the Zuka Club. 

Takashi wants to appear strong and masculine around Haruhi. Yes his stoic personality naturally makes him appear strong and masculine but he doesn’t boast about it. I feel Takashi is taking this opportunity to “show off” his strong masculinity... for Haruhi. Doesn’t it seem a little odd that when she’s inside he’s also inside casually picking up tables like they’re paper weights and when she’s outside he’s also outside casually chopping firewood while shirtless? I honestly cannot believe this was all coincidence. I truly believe Takashi was trying to inadvertently attract Haruhi’s attention. This is Takashi’s equivalent to flexing his muscles for her. 

Kyoya asks Haruhi if she’d like to bet on the winner and though she declines he begins ruling out potential winners. He quickly rules out Mitsukuni and Tamaki, keeping the twins as a large possibility. However he makes sure to address the “dark horse” raising in ranks; Takashi.

Kyoya theorizes that if Mitsukuni drops out then Takashi is sure to follow. This is where I strongly disagree with him. Yes, I think Kyoya is wrong. I believe if Kyoya didn’t interfere with the Refreshing Battle then Takashi would have won. If Tamaki never found the piano the Hitachiin twins wouldn’t have felt threatened enough to devise a sneaky plan. Takashi would have quietly won. Misuzu continually gave Takashi refreshing points while the other hosts were slowly losing points. I believe if Kyoya didn’t interfere then Takashi would have won the room and he would have stayed in the room. 

Still not sure if Takashi really wanted to win? Let’s take a look at this frame. While most of the hosts seem horrified that they’ve been “shown up” by Takashi the only host who seems happy is Mitsukuni. Why is that? Why would Mitsukuni seem excited that Takashi is doing well for himself in winning refreshing points? 

Mitsukuni knows Takashi wants to win and he’s silently rooting for his victory. This would explain why Mitsukuni ws comfortable staying with Tamaki instead of helping Takashi with menial tasks. Mitsukuni knew Takashi wanted to steal this opportunity just like Tamaki and the Hitachiin twins. 

I also believe Mitsukuni knew Takashi wanted to “show off” to Haruhi which is also why he chose to leave him to do as he pleased alone. Mitsukuni probably knew that if he hung around Takashi he wouldn’t have made as big of an impression. In a way, it was as if Mitsukuni gave Takashi his blessing. 

Overall; Takashi tried to hit two birds with one stone by attempting to gain Haruhi’s attention and win the Refreshing Battle.

One final small detail I’d like to point out before we end this post; when Kaoru saves Haruhi from a fallen window notice where the hosts choose to stand. Mitsukuni is with Misuzu while Takashi is with Haruhi. 

Why would this seem important? 

I believe this is when Takashi is beginning to think about pursing Haruhi. It might seem like a stretch (and it probably is) but think about it; Takashi made sure to check on Haruhi before seeing where Mitsukuni was. Usually Takashi stays near Mitsukuni but in this episode Takashi ventured out on his own. Takashi created his own spotlight, in a sense, by choosing to be alone. Mitsukuni was obviously alright with that, as mentioned earlier, and here we see Takashi is still standing in his own spotlight. When the Refreshing Battle neared its end Takashi didn’t return to Mitsukuni’s side... he went to Haruhi’s. 

That concludes Part Four of the Case for Takashi and Haruhi. Thank you for reading and look forward to Part Five coming soon! 

[shes-soparticular]

Might Just Be My Everything and Beyond

Shawn’s girlfriend leaves town for a bachelorette party. He’s left to his own devices.

A/N: Just fluff. P.S. I’m now taking requests and am happy to start a tag list for anyone interested :)

Words: 4180

     He’s never wanted to be that boyfriend. The hopelessly co-dependent kind that can’t be left to his own devices without his girl around to entertain him. But today? Watching Alex throw sunscreen and sandals into her suitcase? He’s feeling a little like that boyfriend. Their bed is presently covered in a pile of her summer clothes, her pointer finger pressed to her lips as she ponders the fabrics like a complex equation. Feeling that familiar wave of neediness come on, he walks up behind her, wrapping his arms tight around her shoulders to stop her as she throws another pair of shorts into the suitcase.

     “I know you’re going to have blast in Vegas with your girlfriends but you know what else would be super fun?” Shawn rests his chin on the top of her head, trying his best to hide the pouty tone of his voice. “If you stayed home with me instead.” When she initially announced she was planning her best friend’s bachelorette party as a liquor fueled weekend in Las Vegas, he’d thought it was a great idea. Alex had been busting her ass at work over the last few months in addition to putting up with his insane tour schedule for the better part of a year, so a long weekend to blow off steam with her girls was well deserved. It wasn’t until he started listening in on all of her planning that he got a little nervous. The club crawls, the all day pool parties, the front row seats at Magic Mike…and if he’d overheard her conversation with her raunchiest friend, strippers weren’t completely off the table. Regardless, he knew he had nothing to worry about. She was an adult, she had more than earned his trust over their two years together, and it wasn’t like he had any concern she was going to run off on him with a Vegas stripper. More than anything, Shawn selfishly felt like he would be missing out. He wanted to hold her hand in front of the Bellagio fountains, wanted to slather her in sunscreen poolside, wanted to carry her out of the club on his back once she refused to wear her heels. (Because this happened every single time Alex wore heels.)

      “And what benefits are in store for me if I stay home?” She inquired, leaning her head forward to deliver a soft bite to his forearm. Her attention was still mainly focused on her wardrobe choices, but as the queen of multi-tasking, she could manage to entertain his pouting.

     “Well, we could stay in all weekend watching conspiracy theory documentaries. Order your favorite Chinese food…” Dropping his arms from her shoulders, he let his hands settle on her hips, thumbs hooking under the top of her pajama shorts. “Have all the sex.”

     “Mmm…you really know the way to my heart, don’t you?” She places her hands over his, momentarily pushing them teasingly further under the hem of her shorts before pulling them away completely, earning a frustrated groan from him. “Let’s put that plan on hold until next weekend? You know I have to go to Vegas, this is my best friend’s bachelorette we’re talking about. I have to be there to make sure it’s a weekend to remember.”

     Something about that statement makes his brow furrow. “Why don’t I like the sound of that?” Watching as Alex resumes her packing, he flops down on the bed next to her suitcase, giving up on sidetracking her. At least for the time being.

     “Don’t worry, this weekend isn’t about me. I’ll be good. You know that.” Her statement is matter of fact, but as she holds up a pair of bikini bottoms that look more like a thong than swimwear, Shawn doesn’t feel especially at ease.

     “But that whole “no talking to boyfriends” rule? Is that really a thing? You’re really not allowed to talk to me for three days?” This was by far his least favorite part of this Vegas trip. Although those bikini bottoms were giving this rule a run for its money. The concern in his voice is enough to catch her undivided attention, bringing her to stand between his knees where they dangle off the edge of the bed.

     “I know, it sounds dumb but we all made a pact. We’re going to have a true girl’s weekend which means not reporting back to the men at home.” Resting her hands on his thighs, she leans forward to give him a soft consolation kiss. “I’m sure I’ll post plenty to Insta and Snapchat. You’ll have proof that I’m alive.” He won’t challenge her now, but he already knows there’s not a chance in hell she’ll obey this rule. Even with his exhaustive touring, they’d never gone a day in their relationship without speaking to one another. Without at least checking in.

     “What if I came with and just hung out in your hotel room? You wouldn’t even have to tell anyone.” Reaching up to her with grabby hands, he simultaneously locks his legs around hers forcing her to lean all the way forward. With an indignant sigh, she lets herself collapse on top of him, her hair hanging around them like a curtain. “It could be our little secret.” Shawn knows how much she loves an opportunity to sneak around. It could be that she’s simply an exhibitionist, or, more likely, it takes her back to the beginning of their relationship when dodging his fans and the media made their romance something of a team sport.

      “I’m sharing a room with two other girls, I think they’d notice you in my bed.” She momentarily lifts herself up, moving her legs to straddle him more effectively. She may not be giving into his requests, but she’s also not strong enough to deny him attention. No matter how much packing she has yet to do or how early her flight leaves the next morning. “You’ll be fine here on your own. It’s just three days and we’ve spent far longer apart.” Even though he knows she’s right and that he’s being far too dramatic, he still can’t shake the sulking feeling. “You’re just getting a taste of being the one stuck at home.” Her eyebrows raise with her statement, amused by the role reversal. Of course she’s right. He rarely thinks twice about leaving for weeks…months at a time. That’s not to say that it isn’t insanely difficult to be away from her. Obviously if he had his way, she’d travel with him for the entirety of tour. But regardless, it’s a thousand times easier to be away from the one you love when you’re moving at such a fast pace you barely have time to reflect on it. Yes, there were days and nights that the urge to hold her nearly drove him to cancel a show and fly home. Yes, there were days and nights that hearing her muffled voice from across the ocean was enough to rip his heart out. But at the end of the day, there was an entire team of people relying on him to keep his shit together.

     This would be different though, considering there’d be no performance to focus his nervous energy on. Instead, he’d be rambling around the condo on his own, with little else to think about than what she was up to. And not even being able to call her? That would make it infinitely worse. “Fine, leave me here. All alone.” Just because he knows that no amount of pouting is going to convince her to cancel her trip, doesn’t mean he’s not going to give it his best effort. “Have your fun.”

   While she won’t admit it, his plan is almost working. His puppy dog eyes are melting through her and it’s nearly enough for her to fake the flu and call the whole trip off. But considering the bride-to-be has been her best friend since the third grade, there’s really no contest. Shawn will be fine on his own for three days, she knows that. As long as he stays away from the stove. “My mopey boy.” Alex pouts right back at him, leaning in to kiss that look right off of his face. “I’ll be back before you know it.” She punctuates her statement with another kiss, her hands taking their own initiative to roam underneath his shirt. Just as her lips start a trail down his neck, she catches movement out of the corner of her eye. Shawn’s hand has somehow found those bikini bottoms, which he is presently trying to shove under the blankets to hide them away from her. He can deal with her going to Vegas. He can deal with her dancing all night with her friends. He can even deal with her throwing singles at some oiled-up dudes. But he cannot deal with seeing her in that thong of a bikini through his phone screen without any means of taking it off. She catches his wrist in the nick of time, holding it down on the bed as she tries to wrestle the bottoms away from him. Unfortunately, he’s got them in a death grip, his other hand free to tickle her side in the exact spot that makes her unable to function. “Okay, okay, but if you make me forget my swimsuit, I’ll just have to skinny dip.”

              Immediately, he releases the bottoms in defeat, tossing them back towards her suitcase. Fine. If he’s going to be subjected to that evil piece of fabric from a thousand miles away, he’s at least going to make up for the lost opportunity in advance. Without warning, he rolls them over, her back landing on top of a pile of clothes yet to be packed. “You’re the worst, you know that?” Giving her no time to respond with her signature sarcasm, he captures her lips in a hungry kiss. She’ll make it to Vegas, but if he has any say about it? It’ll be on no sleep and smelling of him.

      Day one starts off fairly easy. For starters, Shawn absolutely gets his way and they’ve only been asleep for an hour or two when her alarm goes off at 7:00am. He watches with tired satisfaction as Alex rushes to finish packing, throwing items into her suitcase without consideration. He’s pretty sure that in her haste, his jeans from the night before end up in the mix, but he keeps that to himself. He’s not proud of it, but he takes advantage of her guilt long enough to con her into granting him one last quickie rather than taking a shower. So when she gets out of his car at Toronto Pearson, she’s still flushed and smelling of sex and he feels pretty good about sending her off that way.

      At first, time passes quickly. Mostly because he spends most of the afternoon catching up on sleep. It’s around 5:00pm when the updates start rolling in, beginning with a wholesome group photo that Alex has posted to Instagram. He has a sneaking suspicion that this will be the last photo taken in Vegas where they collectively appear sober and bright eyed. In any case, he’s glad to see a sign of life from her. As the night pushes onward, he’s quickly proven right as he watches several of her friend’s snap stories as they go shot for shot with one another, the sound of their woohoo’ing driving him to turn down the volume on his phone to the lowest setting. Okay, so maybe he’s relieved he didn’t go and hide out in her hotel room. Granted, it’s not like he’s any stranger to the sound of screaming women. Around 11:00pm, he nearly chokes when he comes across a video of Alex taking a shot of tequila with her hands held behind her back, the whole bar cheering her on. At midnight, there’s a photo of her holding back the bride-to-be’s hair with in the backdrop of an opulent marble bathroom. He checks for the last time shortly after 2:00am to see that they made it out to the clubs in one piece, though he takes note that Alex has already taken her heels off. Predictable. With one day under his belt and two to go, he drifts to sleep surprisingly quick considering her fingers aren’t threading through his hair.

     Day 2 becomes a bit harder. Not only is he bored out of his mind, but when there isn’t a single update from Alex or any of her friends by 1:00pm, his stomach starts to churn. He knows these girls, they live for social media and a bachelorette party is prime content. Reminding himself of the time difference, he’s soothed temporarily but it’s not long before he’s refreshing each social media account desperate for updates. Just as he’s about to break the rules and call her, the bride starts posting video after video of the group poolside at a day club. He swipes past all of the photos of obnoxious inflatable pool toys and selfies of the other girls until he finds a video starring Alex. From the cover photo alone, he recognizes the cut off short covered ass belonging to his girlfriend. Honestly, he could pick it out of a lineup with ease. The way there’s just a flash of cheek peeking out from underneath the faded denim, the shorts completely filled out to the point that his breath hitches in his chest. As if he hadn’t kneaded that ass in his palms less than 48 hours before.

      Eagerly, he hits play on the video only to instantly hear the beginning of the Lost in Japan remix. The camera zooms in on Alex as she turns towards her friends, a giant, open mouthed smile plastered on her face. Instantly, she raises her comically large, neon colored drink into the air, hips already swaying suggestively to the song. “That’s my man!!” Her voice is hoarse but full of pride and excitement, and he swears his heart almost can’t take it. Without shame, he replays the video over and over, maybe a dozen times. There’s a matching smile stuck on his face as he hears her shout “that’s my man!” again and again. Alright, so maybe Day 2 isn’t so bad either. At least not until he sees the group photo of the girls hanging all over the dancers from the Magic Mike show. Alex, in particular, is sandwiched between two incredibly buff dudes that would put even Shawn’s physique to shame. The way her hand rests on the tanned abs of one of the guys causes a rush of jealousy to burn upwards through his chest, but all he has to do is rewatch the pool video for the twentieth time and the feeling fades away. “That’s my man!” Do people still use personalized ringtones? Because he’s pretty sure he’d like to hear that sound bite all day, every day. Some would call it odd to be this infatuated with someone this far into a relationship, but every glimpse of her gives him butterflies.

      By Day 3, he swears he’s about to lose his mind. The minutes seem to crawl by and nothing helps pass the time any faster. In typical Shawn fashion, he spends a while juggling. He does an Instagram Live for 20 minutes. He tries to figure out how to make this chicken thing Alex always cooks, but he burns it and turns to cereal instead. He screws around on the guitar for awhile but inspiration never strikes. Finally, he calls in the reserves and invites his buddies over for a boy’s night. He also swears to himself that he’s not going to check in on Alex…because he knows if he does, he’ll end up calling her. Since he has a feeling that she’s expecting him to fail at the three day communication embargo, he’s doing his best to power through this final day without proving her right. Inviting his friends over turns out to be the right call, as his mind finally leaves Vegas and joins the world of X-Box and craft beer. It isn’t until he hears Brian snickering from the corner of the room that Alex is brought back to his thoughts.

     “Dude, Alex’s friend Chelsea is live on Insta right now…I think you might want to see this…” He passes his phone to Shawn, the rest of their friends leaning in to see what all the fuss is about. Sure enough, there’s Alex, on a karaoke stage with the bride-to-be, microphone held sideways in her hand. She’s…rapping? Not just to any song, but the incredibly raunchy Ludacris song “What’s Your Fantasy?”. “She’s getting every. Single. Word. Right.” Brian can barely catch his breath he’s laughing so hard, and Shawn isn’t sure whether he wants to laugh along or rub his temples. Alex would. She’s almost more of a ham than he is, always the person in the room cracking jokes the loudest, always willing to make a fool out of herself to get a laugh. Based on what he can see from the video, the crowd is LOVING it and he almost feels a weird sense of pride? For his girlfriend performing a dirty song? It doesn’t make a lot of sense but this is one of those strange, inappropriate moments where the only thought in his head is I’m going to marry this girl.

                The next morning, he wakes up long before his alarm, energy already coursing through his veins. Boyfriend energy. There’s a notification on his phone, only a few hours old, for a text from Alex. He grabs his phone so fast he nearly fumbles it, trying to swipe into the text message to see what was finally important enough for her to break her silence. It turns out to be a video, just a few seconds long. Clicking on it, he’s treated to the sight of Alex climbing into her hotel bed, hair piled in a top knot and sheets pulled up to her chin. “I love you. I miss you. One more sleep, baby.” She blows a kiss to the camera at the same moment one of her friends shouts at her to shut up. The video cuts off just as she yells a “make me” back, face twisting from puppy love to bitch, try me. Jesus, where did he find this woman?? Just like the pool video, he plays this one several times before texting her back. No more sleeps. See you soon, honey. Travel safe. Love you. He is whipped. Completely. Shamelessly. Happily. Whipped.

                      When he finally sees her coming down the escalator, he has to fight to stifle a laugh. Half of her face is obscured by a massive pair of sunglasses, the hood of her sweatshirt pulled up over her head and tied around her face. A baggy pair of sweatpants he’s never seen before and a sad pair of flip flops complete her outfit. She moves slowly when she steps off the escalator, a slight limp in her walk as she favors one ankle. She doesn’t notice him at first, but the second she does, her shoulders slump even lower.

              “I am…not okay in this particular moment.” Alex wheezes, voice barely above a whisper and clearly lost from all of the drinking, screaming, and rapping she’d been doing in Sin City. Leaning directly into him, it’s clear that she’s wiped out and wrecked from her three-day bender.

              “What? My girl can’t rally like she used to?” Shawn readily accepts her into his arms, relieved to be able to feel her again. And also, maybe, a little relieved that she made it home in one piece.

              “The problem is that I did rally. For 72 hours. Now I never want to see vodka again. Or tequila. Or champagne.”  She pauses for a beat, head still pressed into his shirt. “Whiskey is still okay though.”

              This time, he allows himself to laugh at her expense but pulls her in tighter all the same. “Well as long as you’re not claiming to swear off all alcohol. That I wouldn’t believe.” She whimpers into his chest, understandably unable to match his energy. “Come on baby, let’s get you home before you drop.”

      By the time he gets her into the apartment, he realizes that she might still be a little bit drunk. Trying in vain to convince her to lay down on the couch, she attaches herself to him once more, arms slung around his neck, doing her best to climb him like a koala. “I missed you. Every second. I should have let you come along.” While he’s touched to hear this admission from her, he really is happy that she got to spend the weekend on her own, letting loose with her friends in her element. There will be plenty of other vacation opportunities for the two of them, a few that he may or may not have started researching when he was climbing the walls on Day 3.

              “I don’t know, it looks like you had a great time. Especially at Magic Mike,” He leans back far enough from her so she can spot his raised eyebrow. “You seemed pretty damn enthusiastic for that, by the way…”

      An incredulous squeak escapes her, face turned up to look at his. “I was only hyping it for the bride! Why would I be horned up for those meatsuits when I come home to this?” Her hands settle on his cheeks, giving his face a soft squeeze. “And this…” Her statement is punctuated by her pelvis grinding into his.

              His hands instantly catch her hips, stilling her before she can go any further. “I’ve had three days of blue balls watching your stories. Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

              There’s an actual look of shock on her face, considering she’s not used to being turned down. “Who says I can’t finish?” There’s a determination on her face that makes him second guess himself. But upon giving her a once over, he pauses long enough to think of the most delicate way to let her down.

      “For starters, while you look like the most beautiful train wreck, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you this tired.” He bites his lip, hoping that critique won’t upset her. But she seems to willingly accept it, blowing the loose hair out of her face and rubbing her tired eyes. “You need a shower and a nap. As much as I want to make up for lost time.” There’s a mixture of disappointment and gratitude on her face, which he answers by patting her butt towards the bathroom. “Go shower. I’ll nap with you after.”

              As she showers, he gets busy making her a cup of tea with a copious amount of honey to sooth her throat. Being the king of using YouTube to teach himself new skills, he watches a few videos about wrapping sprained ankles until he feels confident. By the time she’s finished, he’s ready and waiting to fix her up. She complies with his orders, relaxing into their headboard, cup of tea balanced on her chest while his hands gently affix the wrap around her injured ankle. Fingers ghosting over her skin once he’s satisfied with his work, he grabs a pillow to rest underneath her foot. “I’m glad you had fun. But. I’m calling it now, no Vegas for your bachelorette party.” He chuckles, crawling up the bed to join her. “I hear Calgary is a great bachelorette destination. Maybe Winnipeg.”

              Swallowing the last of her tea, she discards the mug on the nightstand and rolls to pull herself into him. “You know, there’s this key thing that needs to happen before it’s my turn for a bachelorette party.” It’s a lighthearted statement which she follows with a soft kiss to prove as such. She’s never been the type to put any pressure on their relationship nor has she ever been preoccupied with any timelines. As evidenced that weekend, Alex was more of a “live for the moment” type of person. That was one of the many things he appreciated about her, considering so much of his life had to be tightly planned. With her, there was never any pressure.

              “Just putting it out there. You might want to give it some thought.” He flashes her a knowing grin, bringing his face to hers for just one more kiss. There isn’t a single doubt in his mind that this is the woman for him. And sooner than later, much sooner, he’s going to make sure the whole world knows it. “Now go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up and you can tell me all about Vegas.” She settles into him once more, head on his chest and ear over his heart. “And we can talk about your karaoke performance…it’s given me…some ideas…” The last sound he hears before her breathing turns deep is an embarrassed laugh and a murmured I love you.

     Yep, he’s definitely going to marry this girl.

tagging @fourtristattoos for boyfriend!week 

[blackgirlblues]

Being A Black Girl: And Chasing Your Dreams.. Yikes.

Hi, 

It’s me, your resident black girl back with some new shit to rant about. I’ve been posting a few screenshots of short poems and paragraphs I’ve been writing on my phone as a way to heal and get over Capricorn boy from my last post on here and I see you guys like and reblog. Thank you for showing love, although it makes me sad that so many of you seem to be going through the same range of emotions I am. I’m sorry. 

I know it’s a lonely place to be in. 

But, on the bright side, I’ve got a lot of new followers joining the diary/manual/rant page that is blackgirlology and it’s nice cause I think it’s becoming a little bit of a community. So, in a way, were never really going through any of these emotions alone. If you’ve found this page-you’re part of a community. Bask in it. 

Anyways, that aside, a lot has happened since I last spoke to you. I don’t know if any of you may remember, and for some new people this will be a surprise. But I’m actually a singer songwriter from Ireland. Moved to London a year and a half ago to pursue my music dream and that’s how I met Capricorn boy whos been the source of all my poems. 

Throughout this time in between, I’ve been trying to chase my dreams, and chase them relentlessly. and this summer i did just that, let me tell you, what im about to tell you guys, is to put it simply, wild. I’ll just cut to the chase. 

It all started in July. I’d been in London for quite a long time now, over a year and now have a manager who’s my best friend first and foremost. We’ll call her Maya. I met her in my first week of moving to London in the student halls I was staying at and we became best friends pretty quick. She studies music business, so it made sense and she just naturally ended up taking up the role as my music manager. Shes seen everything. The songs I wrote about Capricorn boy, the tears, everything. And she saw everything this summer. 

I saw an ad for a record label opportunity in London. It was advertised on my university facebook page; a new indie label, looking for demo submissions for a competition they were setting up to find their new signee. I sent a screenshot to Maya who agreed I should send my stuff in. I did, they liked it, I got a meeting, we were sent terms and conditions for the competition. We signed it, the rest was supposed to be history. 

Big yikes. 

There’s so many layers to this story that I will be shortening it, just because it can get very draining for me to talk about or even write about. I’ve healed from it i think, but I still want to put it here and write it about to finally close that chapter and be done with my feelings about what happened to me and my music. 

Basically, the whole competition, the record label, the dickhead CEO, it was all a scam. I had accidentally signed away the master rights to my new song to a record label started by a fake CEO who was committing fraud and known for tricking young artists into handing over their master rights so he could profit off of them, for power. 

It was a mess. Another contestant told me and Maya when we were outside of their office. Just minutes before we were under the impression that I was doing an interview for Billboard Magazine. Honestly, I never truly believed it. Shit was too good to be true. 

But she told us everything. How he was actually a run away from Spain, where he was caught and exposed for doing the exact same thing to artists there, how he didn’t have any money to fund the competition he had somehow roped all of us into, how he was illegally avoiding paying his team, how none of the creatives we had collaborated with for photoshoots etc were paid, how everything was a lie, how he didnt have any connections, and how he was trying to convince me specifically to sign a 360 deal with his label. 

Which, guys, I’m not stupid. After the first week of being with the label for the competition and letting my song live through their disastrous marketing campaign, Maya and I long decided that regardless of what they said, I would not under any circumstances be signing anything with any entity of their company. 

After being told the truth, I had to sit down. You see, when I came across this opportunity, I thought this was finally the life I’d been manifesting coming true. I had begun to grow in my spirituality and start journaling, writing down my manifestations, and getting to work with a record label who would later offer me a fair contract before I turn 20 was one of the manifestations I had written down every night before I went to bed. However, what I’d gotten was the exact opposite. 

I remember, me, Maya, and 2 of the girls from the competition all stood around in a circle outside of their new office that the CEO also hadnt paid for wondering what our next move would be with this new information. There was still 2 other contestants inside who had no idea what was really going on was an elaborate scam. One of them wanted to go in and expose them on the spot. I said no, we had to go in and pretend like everything was normal until we figured out what to do afterwards. 

So in I went, plastering the fakest smile on my face and pretended like I still thought I was about to be speaking with Billboard Magazine. Once I got out, I broke down in Maya’s arms. 

I went home to my flatmates, Ellie and Bea and cried for hours before I had to go work a 7 hour shift at a pizza place. 

I stayed in bed, and cried, and cried. and cried again. I didn’t get out of bed unless I needed too. The only people I talked too were my flatmates E and B and Maya. 

Everything was sorted out eventually, a lot more happened, but as I’ve been writing this article for you guys, I realised that all of that stuff is no longer relevant to my journey and isnt something I want to bring back into my energetic circle because I’ve made peace with the fact that a lot of people who betrayed me when I was at my lowest, peace with the fact that these contestants who wanted to “work together” to get out of this mess, actually wanted to save their own asses and leave me in the cold. 

But I still got out of it and I’m still here. 

I nearly got sued by a man with less than 20 pound to his company account online, but hey, I’m here.

I guess why I’m telling you guys this really short account of my summer is to both record it for myself but also to say its okay to flop, its okay to fail. I did both this summer. and thank god i did. it was the best thing that ever happened to me. 

following your dreams is scary, doing it as a black girl is terrifying because society has already kind of set you up to fail. there’s already misconceptions about what you do, who you are, where you come from and how good you’re going to be at what you do. its almost like we cant fail and we need to work 10 times harder to obtain half of what the average white person will get. and sometimes it can feel like we dont have any space to fail or make mistakes because of this but let me tell you thats not true. 

if anything, the universe will put you in places that will force you to grow through the mistakes you make. and thats exactly what happened to me this summer. 

i chased my dream so relentlessly i ended up in an environment i thought i manifested, i thought was good for me, only for the universe to show me that that specific environment i’d been wishing to be in is the furthest from what i need right now in my life. 

this so called failure showed me that not everybody who smiles can be trusted, and that people can be way more deceiving than i ever thought, especially when push comes to shove and they need to save themselves. you start to see the real them when it starts to get tense. the people who seem to be around you when you’re doing good will most likely dissapear when things start to go south, including some of your oldest friends. you will get radio silence on their end. be upset. cry. but after that be glad that this situation revealed their true colours. 

and then never put any more energy into them again. 

this failure showed me how fucking strong i am. how resilient and kind i am even in the face of disrespect and actual evil. it showed me how much i can care for someone who i believe is at a risk of losing it all, and showed me that this will not always be reciprocated. and for a while i thought that meant that i had to harden myself up and grow a shell. but i dont think so. i will not allow the things ive been through to make me into a hard person when i was born soft. i mean now, im a little rough around the edges, jagged enough to cut anyone who comes too close with some of that bad energy, but soft enough to hold myself tight and glue myself back together when i need to. soft enough to hold the people who held me this summer. soft enough to help people who i know deserve it. 

im a good person in a shitty world, i don’t need to match the world and become a shitty person to survive. 

after all of this happened, i stopped writing music. 

i haven’t written anything properly or produced anything in months and sometimes i get worried that ive completely lost my talent. but thats another thing that this failure taught me, i can never truly lose whats meant to be mine. i know that i was put on this earth to create change, to inspire, to be an activist and a voice for people who dont have one. i know i was put here to do it through a creative medium and right now i still think that is music. 

i think i just need to stop being so scared to start again, to learn my craft again.

i used to be so scared of failure but now i am so thankful for it and the lessons its taught me. i had so much hurt and pain and hatred in my heart for the universe for, in my head, doing this to me. but then i realised that the universe never does anything to you, it does it for you. all of this happened in my best interest and while i definitely didnt understand at the time, i get it now.

thank you universe for the worst summer of my life. 

and my black ass will be continuing to chase my dreams relentlessly, failing, tripping and falling on my ass until i get to the very top. 

besides, if everything had just gone right, that wouldnt have been very interesting, would it?

[megabadbunny]

What do you think the alternative resolution to Journey's End would be if Jack or Rose had shot the Dalek before it could hurt the Doctor, and thus there was no Metacrisis? How would this affect the 2009 specials?

Given the setup dating all the way back to The Christmas Invasion, I think the metacrisis was inevitable; however, there may have been universes and realities where he came about later, rather than sooner. So let’s say Jack arrives just a handful of seconds earlier and blasts the fuck out of that Dalek--I would love to say that Rose would get to it first, but given how distracted she and the Doctor are with each in each other’s sights, I don’t know that she’d be able to react in time, in just about any reality--before it has a chance to go all murderbot on the Doctor. What then?

Well, with no regeneration energy zapped into the handy spare hand, we have a couple changes that go into effect once we reach the Crucible, namely being that 1) Donna wouldn’t feel compelled to stay behind on the TARDIS, so she would join the rest of the team in front of Davros; 2) without Donna inadvertently helping to create the metacrisis by touching the energy-filled hand, the TARDIS would continue its destination to the Crucible’s fire-dumpster and would at the very least suffer intense and crippling damage; and 3) with no metacrisis, there’s no one willing to destroy all the Daleks, presuming the Doctor prefers to keep his hands clean instead of wiping out all the murderbonerbots to save the rest of the universe.

It’s almost certain that the Doctor would be able to find a way to stop the Daleks without killing them, but precedent shows that everyone’s favorite squidmurderbonerbots are nothing if not resilient, so while the Doctor stops the detonation of the nefarious Reality Bomb and the implementation of Davros’ insidious plan, Team TARDIS’ success will be temporary at best. Probably the Daleks go into hiding or scurry off with their tails between their legs or are flung into some far corner of the universe, yay (for now)! However, weakened by its romp in the Crucible’s fire pit, whatever remains of the TARDIS likely can’t tow all the planets back to their respective locations and times, at least not yet. So we may have an extra adventure slotted in there, using Jack’s manipulator to hop here there and everywhere to fetch whatever is needed to repair the TARDIS so everyone can go home. That could be fun whacky fun. Once the TARDIS is back in working order, Team TARDIS hauls all the planets back where they belong, and everyone is happy enough, but the everything is tainted by the knowledge that the Daleks are still out there somewhere, the threat buzzing quietly beneath every adventure like so much background radiation.

But we don’t see any screamysquidmurderbonerbots again for a little bit, which is good, because we’ve already got enough on our plates as it is! First we’ve gotta drop off Jackie in her home universe--but Rose doesn’t stay this time, the Doctor isn’t nursing his guilt-hangover quite yet, but even though she doesn’t say anything, we all know Rose well enough to know that she’s at least a little bit conflicted, because the reality of opting to live a whole universe apart from your mom and your brother is way fucking tougher than simply thinking about it--not to mention we veer straight into the specials, which can only be enhanced by the additions of Rose and Donna (because of course, without the metacrisis (yet), there’s no reason to remove Donna’s memories, and no reason to send her home).

So the plot for the first two specials doesn’t actually change much, I don’t think; we’re mostly dealing with differences in character development, since we don’t have the theme of the Doctor trying to outrun his own misery, since he isn’t miserable since he isn’t alone. And this time around, the whole “pending doom/death of the Doctor” theme is different as well, since see above re: lack of misery; instead of it being an outrunning-the-clock sort of story, it becomes a mystery, just another problem to solve. Additionally, we get the chance to explore the sort of person Rose has become in her time away, the ways these changes bring her and the Doctor closer together, the ways they make things awkward or friction-filled or difficult. Not to mention Rose probably misses her family something fierce, though she tries not to trouble the Doctor about it. (She probably confides in Donna, though.)

But the thick plottens when we reach The Waters of Mars, because without the Time Lord Victorious, what happens here? If the Doctor isn’t stewing in his own loneliness, then we no longer have that emotional instability pushing him to act recklessly, and with his pending doom framed as a mystery instead of a haunting inevitability/punishment, we no longer have that added dash of nihilism thrown into the mix. We do, however, get some friction between opposing viewpoints, as Rose and the Doctor quickly determine that, no matter what, the fixed points in this timeline must be upheld, but Donna struggles to reconcile that notion with her strong sense of empathy and compassion. Ultimately everything goes the way that the timeline/fixed points dictate it must, but Donna’s feeling pretty beaten down, like she can handle a lot of shit but the sense of being totally powerless and unable to help people in such dire straits is a lot for her to swallow, whereas, on the other hand, the Doctor is concerned about Rose and how she so readily agreed to let these folks die for the sake of preserving the timeline. Like yeah, this is what has to be done, but he’s never seen Rose so practical or nearly calloused about such a thing, which bothers him. (Cue the continuation of the internalized guilt we see cropping up via that conversation with Davros in Journey’s End.)

And now we come to the End of Time, which, yep, we’ve got the pending return of the Master and the Time Lords, but now we’ve got the return of the Daleks as well. I can imagine the resurrected Master making a devil’s deal with Davros, working to help the universe’s most infamous screamysquidmurderbonerbotpepperpots even as he works behind the scenes to help resurrect/bring back the Time Lords, probably with the plan to set them against each other and see which one wins (although ideally, he thinks, they’ll just off each other and be done with it). Also it’s worth noting that Wilf is likely no longer involved in the story, since his motivation to get in touch with the Doctor is gone.

Like he do, the Doctor tries to reason with the Master, and maybe, just maybe he’s making some headway, but a Dalek-in-hiding shoots him where he stands, and that’s the end of that. Except you know where I’m going with this; convinced that this isn’t the end for him, and determined not to let this body go (like not only does he want to keep this self for Rose’s sake, but also because regeneration in the middle of a universewide crisis is hugely inconvenient), the Doctor siphons off the excess energy into his spare hand, which lies dormant--for now. This incarnation of the Doctor lives to fight another day, but not any longer than that; when all is said and done, the Time Lords defeated (sent back into the time loop again), the prophecy about the Doctor’s doom supposedly diverted, there’s still the issue of the Glass Case of Emotion(TM), and a companion being trapped in it. Only this time it isn’t Wilf; it’s Rose. And of course the Doctor saves her--of course he does!--but at the expense of forcing a regeneration he can’t back out of. Not this time.

So after the appropriate amount of angst and drama and general feels, Ten regenerates into Eleven, and pretty quickly, things proceed much as they do in the original Journey’s End--Donna activates the metacrisis, Donna and the metacrisis work together to stop the Daleks, metacrisis genocides the plungerscreamysquidmurderbonerbotpepperpots, etc. etc., with the added hijinks of a newly-incarnated Eleven flopping around all post-regeneration-sickness-weirdness-like. But at any rate, the day is saved, huzzah!

But along with his fresh new bodies, both of the new Doctors (Eleven and metacrisis alike) have some fresh new perspective to go along with: it’s painfully obvious that Rose feels guilty and responsible for the Doctor’s death/regeneration, and even more obvious that Rose misses her family, terribly. Oh-so-conveniently, there’s a small window of time where they could go between universes again, in the wake of everything opened up by the Time Lords. So the metacrisis proposes a solution, to Rose: they can all stay here, together, or he will join her and her family in the other universe. He figures it’s high time he gave up everything for her, for a change. If she wants.

Shocked at how much the metacrisis Doctor is willing to give up for her--stunned to learn that he feels every bit as deeply for her as she does for him--Rose hesitates, trying to gather her thoughts. She isn’t so concerned with whether the metacrisis is really the Doctor--probably she was there when it happened, so she saw everything, not to mention she misses Ten like a fish misses water--but she worries about Eleven being on his own. It’s all right, he assures her; he’s got Donna.

Rose asks him about the end to that question she asked on Bad Wolf Bay four years ago, on the worst day of her life; this time, however, the Doctor doesn’t demur out of guilt or fear, but instead, keeps quiet because he feels that the metacrisis--i.e. Ten reborn--is the Doctor that Rose really deserves to hear the words come from. And of course, just like in the original story, the metacrisis Doctor steps forward to answer the question before Rose is even finished asking. And of course, Rose kisses him.

So after a tearful goodbye, Rose and the metacrisis Doctor whisk off to the parallel universe, leaving Eleven and Donna behind to do their thang. Unfortunately, a different timeline doesn’t automatically equate to different rules, so Donna’s brain is degrading much the way it does in the original Journey’s End. However, this time, with Eleven’s bouncy-puppy mentality instead of Ten’s guilt-soaked self-punishing mentality, Eleven contrives a way to extract his memories from Donna without wiping all of her memories of their time together. Which, of course, is wonderful! And Eleven bounces about the place, chattering excitedly about everything he and Donna are going to do together, already planning their next adventure, because by gum, he’s ready!

But Donna isn’t.

It’s nothing to do with the new Doctor, even though the fact that he up and changed everything about himself is more than a little jarring. But after Pompeii, and after Mars, Donna’s had something of an epiphany. Because see, everything they’ve undergone together, everything they’ve won, everything they’ve lost, has just made her realize there’s stuff she can do back on Earth, back in her own time, to give help to those who desperately need it. She can make a real difference, back home. Eleven swallows back his disappointment in favor of his pride; Donna’s come so, so far, and he’s honored to have witnessed it. He makes to drop her off with her grandpa and mum; naturally, Wilf invites him in for dinner. But he doesn’t stay. He can’t stop. He’s the Doctor, after all.

*~*~*~

[tindomielsilverthorn]

Void Bolt Ch 6

Another chapter collaboration with @devsash. I have not been posting here, and I apologize. I will catch up as best as I can.

Chapter 5

Niqi peered at the guest room door. She took a couple of slow breaths before stepping towards it. Goldeneyes sat on the bed, peering out at the bloodthistle. He seemed lost in thought. "What if I tried mixing it with...? But would that work?" he whispered to himself. Niqi raised her hand and softly knocked on the door. The Sin'dorei man started, glancing at the door. "Yes?" Niqi opened the door just a small amount. “Mister Goldeneyes? Sir? Ummm, lunch is almost ready.” Goldeneyes peered at her for a moment. "I'm not hungry," he said. “Are you certain? The way you dressed the meat, it smells heavenly.” She chewed her lip a moment. “I could bring a bowl to you, if you would rather be alone.” "I'll be damned before I eat anything prepared by a Greythorn," he said flatly.

“All...all right. I’m sorry. I just wanted to help,” she closed the door and wandered out to the garden. She flopped down in front of the bloodthistle, staring at them as tears streamed down her face. "Niqi?" Mehe said, stepping out after her. He frowned, seeing her tears. "What is it? Did Goldeneyes say something?" “I was just trying to help...”’she whispered. “But he won’t eat because I helped make it.” Mehe sighed. "Honestly, if I didn't trust you, I'd be the same way. He needs time to see you're not who he thinks you are." “I don’t think he’ll even give me a chance, Mehe. I don’t know what the other Greythorns did. But it must have been bad.” She reached out, gently touching the vibrant bloom. "I don't know," Mehe admitted. "He doesn't talk much about his world." “How did I make you see, Mehe? That I was all right?” "I saw how much you care about Anas." Mehe sat down beside her. "And I could tell you're a genuine person. That's what matters to me." “So just being me?” She dropped her hand down into her lap. He nodded. "Yes. Now come, let's have lunch. Anas is waiting for us." She nodded and worked her way to her feet. “All right.” Mehe stood as well. He gently brushed her tears away with a tendril. "Come," he said, turning and stepping inside. "I'll have to find Ælithil later as well. Should I wait near the shop or would he be anywhere else?" “I’m not sure. He just found out about a friend who died on the tree. He went to ask family about it.” She made her way to the stove. “Shall I serve?” "My deepest condolences." Mehe shook his head. "I think Anas wants to serve. He's really happy that he was able to heal you." “I’m glad I convinced him to try then,” Niqi smiled. She crossed to the table and found a seat. “It hurt, but my back feels a lot better now.” "Good." Mehe smiled as Anas placed the food before them and handed out the cutlery. "Okay then, let's dig in," Anas said, grinning widely. "I can't wait to taste my little sister's cooking!" Niqi smiled. “I do hope it’s good. It’s been a while since I cooked anything.” “I'm sure it is," Anas said, picking up his spoon. Niqi followed suit. Dipping in, she took a bite. “Oh Light. I need to know what he put on this. It’s wonderful.” Anas glanced at the door to the guestroom. "He's not joining us for lunch?” Niqi shook her head, looking at the table. "I'll give him some," Mehe said, getting to his feet. He filled a bowl with some of the food. “He won’t eat it,” Niqi said sullenly. “Because it was prepared by a Greythorn.” The two men stared at her. "He said that?" Anas asked, frowning. Mehe pursed his lips, glancing at the door. “He did. It’s fine. He doesn’t trust me.” Niqi took another bite, shrugging. She did her best not to get upset, but her drooping ears and tangled tendrils gave her away. Anas placed a hand on her shoulder. "I apologize for his behavior, little one," he said softly. “It’s hardly your fault, Anas.” Her tendril grabbed ahold of his hand. "I really want you to feel comfortable, safe and welcome here, but it's not working out that way." He sighed, gently squeezing her shoulder. She smiled sadly up at him. “I do feel safe with you and Mehe here. I’ll manage. Let’s just... have lunch. Maybe he will change his mind?” She tried to sound hopeful. "I daresay he will," Mehe said. He resumed his seat before taking another bite. “So, umm, how does it work? To make a pressed flower, Mehe? I’ve never done it.” She turned her attention to the Ren’dorei, offering him a small smile. "Hmm?" He glanced at her, his spoon halfway to his mouth. "I pick one that seems appropriate to press, cut it a little if it's too thick then put it between a pair of small wooden boards and tie them together." “Oh...” "We should get some ice cream sometime, little one." Anas smiled at her. "It's been so long since we did that." Niqi smiled up at him. “That sounds amazing. I would love some. Should we try new flavors or the same as last time?” She took another bite looking at the closed door. "Maybe we could try something new this time." Anas glanced at Mehe. "Would you like to join us, my love?” The Ren'dorei man nodded. "Just no mint. I hate mint." “Lemon is my favorite, though Anas introduced me to cookie dough. Maybe another fruit option? Like strawberry?” She tipped her head to the side. “Why no mint?” "It's just..." He pulled a face before shaking his head. "Damn well tastes like medicine." Niqi giggled. “All right, no mint.” "Strawberry sounds nice though." Anas chuckled. "We should try that. Who knows, it might even go well with the other flavours." Niqi finished up her bowl and headed towards the sink to clean up. “Berries and lemon are good together. And chocolate. So I bet they will.” "Only one way to find out! We'll have to get it." Anas helped himself to another spoonful. “Go to the city and get some...” She smiled faintly. "We'll do it sometime," Anas said, smiling at her. "Unless you'd like for us to go with Mehe and meet Ælithil?” Niqi took a moment to consider it. Looking up at Anas's face seemed to make her choice for her. "No, brother. You need rest. I can see it on your face. You shouldn't be taking a trip into the city yet.” "She's right, dalah'surfal. You need to rest." Mehe finished his meal and stood. "I'll go ahead and look for him." Niqi crossed over to Mehe and reached out for his dishes. “I’ll take care of that, Mehe. You relax for a little while.” "It's fine. I'll do them." He nodded before beginning to clean up. "Would you want Anas and me to link with you so that you can try delving into the Shadow?" “Will you show me how? I have no idea what to do.” She looked to Anas nervously. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.” Anas smiled reassuringly at her. "You'll be fine, little one. Mehe knows what he's doing." “Well, then yes. I would feel better if I had some idea what was happening.” She wiped off her hands and moved to Anas’s side. She gently smoothed down his hair while she waited for instruction. Anas smiled at her before rising to wash his dishes as well. Mehe dried his hands. "First, what do you know of the Shadow?" he asked, setting the cloth down. “I know it’s the balance of the Light. And that it has been twisted by people into something evil, but it’s not.” She pushed her messy hair behind her shoulders. He nodded. "It's dangerous, but no more evil than the Light is. It simply is and it's not to be feared." Behind him, Anas carefully set the washed cutlery aside and wiped his hands dry. He turned towards them, gently placing a hand on Niqi's shoulder. “Why is it treated as such?” "People like things in black and white." Mehe shrugged. "Also, because it's the opposing force of the Light and the Light is seen as good, it's easy to follow that the Shadow must then be evil." Niqi nodded. “All right. I guess that makes sense.” "Delve too deeply into the Shadow and you'll find the Void." Mehe grimaced. "It's far more powerful, but also harder to control. If you're not strong enough to keep your feet, it'll drag you under." He glanced at the Kaldorei man. "Anas is better versed in its use than I am. I prefer to avoid it." She smiled at Anas. Turning back to Mehe, she furrowed her brow. "But, because we are Ren'dorei, should that not make us more able to deal with it?" She settled into a chair to listen. "On the contrary," he said wryly, "It makes us more vulnerable to its bloody whispers. The Void tempts you to draw more and more upon it. It can and will drown out your consciousness, fragmenting your thoughts, and eventually break your mind." “So that’s why they are so loud when I’m upset...” Niqi pulled her knees up and set her chin on them. “The meditation I’ve been learning helps. But they’re still there.” Mehe nodded. "It's what we have to endure as Ren'dorei," he said, a note of resignation entering his voice. Niqi closed her eyes and sighed. She took a few breaths and tried to relax. “So what do I have to do?” she asked quietly as she opened her eyes once again "I'll reach out to you," Mehe said, his eyes turning purple. He sent out a tendril of power to the Ren'dorei girl, probing gently. "Can you feel it?" Niqi’s eyes shifted slowly as she nodded. “It’s cold.” She felt an odd sensation reacting from within herself. She chewed her lip as she attempted to focus on it. "Good." Mehe nodded. "Try linking with me. If it helps, close your eyes and visualize that you're taking my hand." “All right.” She closed her eyes and pictured it as he had described. As the hands in her mind touched, she gasped, jumping at the sensation. "It's okay, don't be scared," Mehe said calmly. "This is how you link with someone. What do you feel now?" Niqi took a shuddering breath. “It’s like a tugging. But it’s cold.” "The touch of this magic is always cold." Mehe watched her face carefully. "Are you okay with this? Do you want to continue?" "I'll help if it makes you feel better, little one," Anas offered, squeezing her shoulder comfortingly. Niqi took a few breaths and nodded. “I want to learn.” Her tendrils wrapped around Anas’s hand and she squeezed her eyes a bit tighter, trying to hold on to the visual. Mehe nodded. "Now, I want you to feel along from where we're holding hands back towards the source within yourself." She nodded slowly. Her brow furrowed a few times and her head tipped and moved one way, then the other. Mehe glanced at Anas. "Will you link with me, dear one?" Anas nodded, his eyes turning purple as well. He reached out, forging the link with familiar ease. His power trickled through the link, mingling freely with Mehe's. Niqi’s eyes snapped open wide when Anas joined the link. Mehe smiled at his mate before returning his attention to the Ren'dorei girl. "Now, I want you to visualize that source within you as a ball filled with water. Hold up your right hand and imagine it trickling slowly down your hand, pooling in your palm." “Gods... is it always so....” she shook off the thought, refocusing on the lesson.  She closed her eyes again, picturing a ball slightly larger than her hand. She reached out towards it, both in her mind and physically. As she started picturing the water, the color shifted. “It’s turning black. Why is it turning black?” Her voice took on an edge of panic. "It's the Shadow," Mehe explained patiently. "Deep breaths now. Remember you're here and you're safe with us. Just let it trickle slowly into your palm." The tendril’s grip on Anas’s hand tightened as she took a few deep breaths. She focused on the image, the dark water dripping started as a few large drops before suddenly flowing quickly. She screwed up her face, “No.... it’s...” Mehe reached out at once. Anas's power flowed gently through him as he focused it, soothing the flow of the magic within the Ren'dorei girl. "You're okay, Niqi. We've got you," he said. "Breathe, little one," Anas murmured. "Focus but don't force it." Niqi choked back a sobbing breath. “I am trying to make it trickle. But it came so fast!” "It can do that," Mehe said calmly. "You'll get better at it with practice. Don't worry, Anas and I won't let you fall." The girl took another breath and tried again. This time she managed to take it from slow drips to rapid ones. She sighed, relieved. Focusing again, she pushed it a bit past a trickle, but not as hard as the first time. "Good," Mehe said encouragingly. "Just like that. How do you feel now?" “Oh Light this is hard. I um.... a little better? It makes my head spin a bit. And I can hear the whispers now.” Her fingers moved in front of her like she was attempting to cup her hand. Mehe nodded. "The whispers will always be there when you work with the Shadow and the Void. You must learn to pay them no heed." "Look at your hand, little one," Anas said softly. She opened her eyes slowly before gazing at her palm. Gasping, “Is that from me?” "It is," Anas said with a smile. "You're doing very well." Her focus slipped and she opened up further, the shadows pulling down around her arm. She clamped down on it just as it reached her shoulder. "Close your eyes," Mehe instructed. "Focus on your breath. Keep breathing in and out slowly." Her purple eyes slid closed. Air flowed slowly in her nose and back out. The swirls retreated to her elbow and stayed around the lower portion of her arm. “Come on...” she whispered mostly to herself. "I think we've done enough for today," Mehe said, nodding at Anas. "You should rest, Niqi. I'll need to search for Ælithil." Niqi opened her eyes, hurt evident behind them. “I can get it! I can… I… ” "I know you can, little one," Anas said, smiling at her. "But Mehe's right. The Shadow isn't something that should be forced. It's not safe to push too far on your first try." She dropped her hand, letting it fall to her lap. "All right. I'm sorry I didn't do very well," she said softly. She glanced down at the shadows still clinging to her arm. "What do I do now?" "You did well for your first attempt. Now close your eyes," Mehe instructed. "Picture the water flowing back up your arm into the ball." She did as he asked, the shadows curling away and dissipating. She let out a relaxed sigh. "Very good," Anas said, pride in his voice. "That's wonderful, Niqi. You did so well." "I'll let go now," Mehe said before releasing the link. The purple faded from his eyes and Anas's. As the link released, Niqi’s body visibly slumped. “Oh Light, I’m so tired now.” "You should rest." Anas peered at her in concern. Niqi put her head down on the table, curling her arms around her face. “I’ll be ok. I’ll just take a minute here.” She closed her eyes, shuddering a little. Anas sat down beside her, his brow furrowing in worry. "I think she might've overexerted herself," he murmured. "It's okay. She can rest here with you. Keep you company while I'm in the city." Mehe glanced out of the window at the sky. "I should leave soon if I'm meeting him at the shop." The little Ren’dorei shifted slightly, but didn’t raise her head. “Why am I so tir...” she mumbled. "It's okay, little one." Anas patted her back gently. "Working the Shadow can be exhausting. Do you want to go to bed?" Niqi shook her head. “It’s your bed. I can rest here.” "I'd rather you rest there, where it's more comfortable," Anas said. Mehe nodded in agreement. The door to the guestroom closed with a soft click. Niqi slowly raised her head, blue eyes turning to them. “All right. Are you...are you ok? I didn’t hurt you, did i?” Mehe smiled wryly. "We're fine. Really." "I've been doing this with Mehe for a very long time." Anas smiled at his mate. "We've had a lot of practice." A relieved sigh escaped her lips. “Maybe someday I will be better at it,” she yawned. She slid down from the chair and hugged Anas. Anas hugged her back. "Off to bed now," he said, drawing back to smile down at her. "Hopefully when you wake up, Ælithil will be here for you." Releasing Anas, she turned to Mehe and smiled faintly. “Thank you, for...well everything.” Mehe nodded. "You're welcome," he said simply. She turned and walked to their bedroom. Climbing up into the bed, she pulled the pillow close, clinging to it. She closed her eyes and whispered to herself, "Please just let me sleep, please. Please don't let him be there." Anas's ears twitched. He threw Mehe a worried glance. "I need to go to the city," Mehe said softly. "Can you look after her, dalah'surfal?" Anas nodded. "Be safe, my love." Rising, he kissed Mehe's forehead before stepping into their bedroom. "Is everything okay, little one?" Niqi hugged the pillow tighter. “He’s gonna be there. If I sleep. He’s going to be there again...” she whimpered. Anas sighed sadly. He climbed into bed beside her and hugged her. "I'll hold you. Would that help?" She nodded and curled into him. “I’m sorry. I… I just...” She yawned wide. “I’m scared he’s really there.” "He won't be. Not as long as I'm here." Anas stroked her hair gently. "Sleep, little one. I'll be here." She took a shuddering breath and let herself drift off to sleep. Anas pulled the blanket over them both. He held her close as he slipped into slumber as well.

[dreadfuldeimos]

Fanfic: Be Still, My Beating Heart

A fanfic I’ve written set post Kingdom Hearts 3. It has MAJOR MAJOR spoilers for the game, so anyone who hasn’t played it or finished it yet, please be wary and stay away!

Summary: Three years after the defeat of Xehanort, Kairi is stuck in a "new normal.” As she strives for the title of Keyblade Master alongside others, she realizes she has to deal with her personal demons in order to succeed. But allowing her heart to be her guiding key might take her in a direction she never necessarily anticipated. (Exploration of Disney Worlds is common in this! If anyone wants to see certain non-Disney animated worlds, send them to me in an ask!]  

Pairings: [Lea/Kairi][Roxas/Xion][Terra/Ventus][Isa/Namine][Sora/Riku] Rating: T for Teen currently, but expect upgrades later down the line for both violence and sex. 

Three chapters of this have already be completed, and I’m including the first chapter under the cut! Click this link to check out the entire fic!

I never realized how much of a difference three years would make.

Three years after the Second Keyblade War, I stood in the Land of Depature's great hall, front and center with the other wielders I fought alongside. We weren't the only ones in the room; there were maybe twenty or twenty-five others, all newcomers that have either started manifesting their weapons or were very eager to try. The grand hall had never been so vibrant before. Aqua and Terra presided over us from the front platform, the only two Keyblade masters to train a new legion of pupils. Well, there were more than two--actually, there were three Keyblade Masters who could, arguably four...

...but it had been years since any of us had heard from Sora and Riku.

As Aqua started addressing us and the crowd fell into silence, I couldn't help but tune her out and focus on the one thing encasing my mind: the past. I had shared the paopu fruit with Sora before the battle. He was supposed to be a part of my life, no matter what, from that point on...but once we had made it back to the Islands, ready to relax and spend time with our friends, he disappeared from my grasp, like fractals spinning off into the sunlight. I haven't seen him since.

Sora's disappearance had an impact on everyone, and it was immediately evident. We called an emergency meeting at Master Yen Sid's tower to discuss what happened to him and what our options were. I was certain Mickey and Yen Sid knew more than they let on, even though they explained to us their theory: Sora had most likely tapped into a similar variant of time travel that Young Xehanort used to return to the past and prevent me from dying. No one in the room looked at me when this was brought up, and I could only assume they all blamed his disappearance on me. I wouldn't have blamed them if they did.

The meeting revealed a few more secrets--all of which were surprising, and all of which were focused around one, particular girl. Namine. When Master Yen Sid motioned for her to speak her piece, she opened it with an explanation. She had never been my Nobody at all; Namine was her own person, the Princess of Light that came before me. She explained her past to us with some degree of detail. She was under the guardianship of Ansem the Wise; despite not having many memories, she recalled seeing him as a father figure until his experiments on the heart prompted him to use her as a test subject. She had befriended Lea and Isa when they would sneak into the castle, and was the girl they had both been searching for. It was touching to see their reunion, but it was peculiar to know that I wasn't her Other, I was her vessel.

It wasn't until after that meeting that Terra, Aqua, and Ventus returned to the Land of Departure to restore it to its former glory; a year later, they had laid all the groundwork for a Keyblade Academy, and even brought back a familiar, not-so-nice face as a redeemed ally: Vanitas. He looked so much like Sora. I often caught myself staring at Vanitas, hoping so intensely I could pretend I was looking at Sora instead; I never could. It was difficult to keep my emotions from rising to the surface, but it must have been harder for Riku. He left the next day, without saying a word; it's been a year, and he hasn't returned.

I looked up as Aqua was making her closing remarks, the words "may your heart be your guiding key" echoing through the foyer. As she and Terra descended the steps onto the floor, they urged everyone to mingle and get to know each other. It was the largest group of Keyblade students that had been assembled in quite a long time, after all. But my heart was my guiding key, and it guided me straight from the hall and into the dormitories we lived in. It was so hard for my light and personality to shine brightly without Sora around to make me smile.

When I shoved my key into the lock and gave it a twist, I heard two doors open instead of just mine. Panicked, I looked up to see Lea unlocking the door to his own room. He gave me a lazy smile as he put one foot across the threshold. "Not in a socializing mood, Princess?"

"No, not really," I said dully, walking into my room and closing the door behind me. I heard him dumbly stutter out "A-alright, guess I'll see you in training then" as I sank down against my door. I knew I shouldn't have been so curt with him--clearly he was just trying to make small talk and see if I was alright. Just because he spent more time hanging out with Roxas and Xion than he did with me didn't nullify our friendship or anything...

I sighed and pulled myself off the floor, only to go flop down on my bed. Morning would be here soon enough, and then it would be just another day back on my grind.

The class of Keyblade wielders I was in didn't have a name.

We functioned like a normal school, as far as grade levels went. We had first-year Keybearers, second-year Keybearers; eventually, there would be third and fourth years as well, maybe even fifth and sixth years, depending on how many individuals we found to train. As far as my class went, though, we didn't have a name. We were simply the ones who fought a war (some of us with minimal training) and made it back to tell the tale.

There were eight of us, including myself: Roxas, Xion, Axel, Namine, Isa, Ventus, Vanitas. I never wanted to train alongside Vanitas, I had never expected Namine and Isa to materialize Keyblades, and I had assumed Ventus would have been a Master by now. Everyone was joking around, goofing off, having fun; I wasn't. I stood away from everyone, hesitant to join in with their horseplay. It all reminded me of Sora and Riku. Despite the fact I have lived with only the shadows of their memories, it was different this time.

"So the first thing we're going to address," Aqua started, walking into the room and causing everyone to fall silent, "is your primary project for this educational year." She sat cross-legged on one of the benches, looking up at all of us standing in front of her. Everyone looked like they wanted to burst out in chatter at the excitement of a project. "As the highest caliber of Keyblade wielders," she continued, "it is going to be your jobs to go out in groups of three and find new, strong hearts that have the potential to use a Keyblade. You're more than welcome to pass on your power to individuals you may meet along the way that you deem fit."

At that, everyone began talking at once.

"I finally get to explore other worlds? That's so exciting!" Namine gasped.

"Trust me, it isn't that great with Heartless attacking you every five seconds," Xion retorted, shuddering.

"I wanna be on Vanny's team!" Ventus said with enthusiasm, gripping onto his Other's (or was he a brother? I wasn't sure) arm excitedly.

"No one will be picking their own teams," Aqua sighed loudly, as though getting everyone to silence one more time was particularly tiresome. "Master Yen Sid decided team compositions for you. He picked individuals he believes will work well together based on skill, fighting style, and level of experience."

"So what are our teams?" Roxas piped up, looking at Aqua anxiously. He was like a kid in a candy store, or an excited puppy; I couldn't choose which. "C'moooon Aqua, I wanna know!"

Aqua sighed again, pinching the bridge of her nose as though she wanted to tell Roxas that she would tell him if he was a bit more quiet. "Our first team..." Aqua said slowly and deliberately, relief washing over her face as the gaggle of unruly teens began to get quieter. "...will be Roxas, Xion, and Ventus. Yen Sid has emphasized that the three of you make an excellent team due to your similar, yet different, fighting styles. Most of you guys are attack based, so he recommends the three of you alternate between the following roles: bruiser, magician, and defender. Once I've called your teams, go stand off somewhere with them until we begin our training drill."

Roxas, Xion, and Ventus giddily jumped up and down, the three of them rushing off to a corner of the field, muttering about team names and mascots. I heard Ventus suggest they call themselves "The Sora Squad," and I cringed when they started to overflow with giggles. I would have much rather had Sora himself there than all of them combined, despite how callous of a thing that is to say. "Team Two will be comprised of myself, Namine, and Isa. Master Yen Sid wants to keep you two on a similar playing field as everyone else, but these missions to other worlds might be too much for the two of you to handle on your own. I will be tagging along to be the defender in your group; Namine, you will be focused on magic, and Isa, you will be focused on attack."

The two smiled at each other, holding each others' hands as they walked off towards another corner of the courtyard, whispering excitedly between each other. I wished it was Sora and I holding hands and jabbering away about how exciting it would be to travel the worlds looking for more strong hearts of light. As I watched them walk, I froze; there were only eight of us in this class. If five of them had already been assigned to teams...I looked around at who was left standing. Oh no...

"And Team Three, you should all be able to use deductive reasoning to know who you are," Aqua finished. "Kairi, Lea, and Vanitas. Lea and Vanitas, Master Yen Sid wants you two to alternate between fulfilling heavy hitting and defense roles so Kairi can start to focus on honing her latent magical ability."

"Latent magical ability?" It was the first thing anyone had heard me say that day, and I said it with an eyebrow raised and my arms crossed. "I didn't think I had any magical ability."

Aqua very nearly gawked at me. "You're a Princess of Heart," she explained. "You have quite powerful magic ability that you need to be able to tap into. It's going to become your greatest asset, both in combat and even in your every day life."

"Yes, Master Aqua," I nodded respectfully, walking off to follow Lea and Vanitas to the back center of the training courtyard. Out of all the individuals I had to get stuck with, Lea was one that I didn't mind so much; we had spent a lot of time together in a timeless dimension of Merlin's creation to train for the Keyblade war, even though we didn't do much other than sit around and watch the sunset together. Vanitas, though...I minded being around him. In fact, I had half a mind to tell Aqua to switch me out with Isa, just so I could be on a team with someone who didn't have any relation to Sora at all. How was I going to train with Vanitas every day? How was I going to fight the waves of sickness that rolled over me every time I wished he was actually Sora? How could I get used to this?

Fuck.