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m-y-fandoms · 3 years

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COMMISSION: Joker/Akira/Ren x Reader Part 3

This fic assumes Mishima isn't a confidant, the reader is the Moon arcana instead, keep this in mind.

word count: 6.3k words, SFW

- Admin Myah

Over the next few weeks spent with Akira, or… Joker, as he seemed to be called when the situation demanded, you learned that the world was much more complicated than you ever could’ve dreamed. Sure, you praised yourself for being a little less of a sheep than the idle-brained teenagers of your everyday life who thought of nothing but gossip, status and appearances, but now you felt insignificant, like you’d been asleep all this time until Akira, Ryuji and Ann had placed six symbolic hands upon you, and shaken you to life. Layers upon layers, he explained the subconscious world that lay beneath, which ached to be revealed, only to those who’d open their eyes.

＊

It’d been a rush, your first time in the Metaverse. You’d insisted to Akira, though he protested, that you wanted to see what all of this near-unbelievable nonsense he was explaining was all about. He’d never taken non-Phantom-Thief confidants into the Metaverse, and he was hesitant, silent for a long while before deciding that your help was worth the risk. After all, he’d already told you everything, and they had no way to erase memories… yet.

You remember Akira taking your hand, the skin on skin contact. Up on the school’s rooftop with Ryuji and Ann flanking you, Akira had told you it was a precaution, to make absolutely sure that you transferred into the Metaverse with them and landed in the same place. You had to be touching one of them, for your safety, and he’d eagerly volunteered. With the cat in his bag seeming to smile at you over his shoulder (an occurrence which made you feel like you were going looney already) he tapped an app icon on his phone, some scary red little square, and with that, your body lifted, began to float, or so it seemed. Red completely consumed your vision, red and black ink like those blobs you’d seen the Phantom Thieves appear from when this all began. You gasped, stumbling back a step as if you could escape the all-encompassing wave, and Akira, sensing your trepidation, squeezed your hand slightly.

The rooftop faded, and you felt like a character from a videogame fast-traveling to their destination. Almost as fast as it appeared, the trippy red and black sludge subsided, and before you sat a dark, dreary scenery. A castle, one that obviously belonged to a malevolent ruler sat amongst a purple sky and the smell of despair.

“What the…” your mouth hung agape for a second, taking in your surroundings before letting your eyes trail down to where your hand met Akira’s. Assuming you no longer needed it, you shook him off gently, not even sparing a glance his way, and his eyebrows creased just the smallest amount, not that you noticed. You were too focused on the giant cat before you, knee-height, with a round, bulbous head. “Is… are you-?!”

“Much more handsome and dashing in this form, wouldn’t you say?” Morgana - now confirmed - gave you a sly look as you leaned down to his height to run your hand along the fur on his head.

“Wow… so cute!” You cooed.

“Hey! Stop it! Stop it! I am a warrior and to be taken seriously!” he whined, shooing away your hands, his fur on end.

“Ha!” a sharp laugh rang out behind you, and you turned to see that Morgana wasn’t the only one who’d made a drastic change. Ryuji was now clad in some kind of leather pirate’s uniform, his demeanor far more fearsome and a skull mask across his face. Ann donned a skin-tight body suit and cat mask, and Akira wore a lavish long coat, red gloves, and a masquerade mask. He looked like a magician from some fairytale, or perhaps the leader of some band of Robin-Hood-inspired band of vigilantes… although you supposed that was kind of what he was now… either way, he would make amazing source material for your main protagonist. Such swagger, a commanding presence… he didn’t seem to exactly be the same Akira you’d met earlier.

＊

The trip to the Metaverse was almost completely uneventful… almost. Just once, when you’d begged Akira to press forward and show you the inside of the castle, something called a “shadow” attacked, and you got to see the band of thieves in action. It was shocking, leaving chills running down your spine. Here were your classmates, people your age with ghost-like spirits materializing at their backs, flipping through the castle’s corridors, shooting guns and slingshots and magic at terrifying beasts. It was all so fast-paced, so stunning, that your body locked up witnessing the battle. A shadow spotted you in the background, defenseless and clearly not part of the Phantom Thief entourage, and taking the petty opportunity only a sore-loser on the ropes would take, struck out against you. You shrieked, your hands uselessly coming up to defend your face as if it would help. Akira’s eyes widened, his reflexes so much faster in this realm, and turned on his heel, diving in front of you to deflect the blast of frosty energy swirling toward you. It bounced off of the side of his large steel dagger and ricoheted back at the shadow. After assessing the situation and asking if you were okay, Akira decided it was time to return you back to the real world. It was too dangerous for someone without a persona to wander here. The thieves would return later, once you were safe at home.

＊

Anyway, now you believed him, you knew everything he was saying, about Kamoshida and his fucked up mind, about confidants, personas and metacognition was real and very much a serious matter. Now all that was left was to decide just how you could help them, what kind of deal you could strike with the clever leader of the Phantom Thieves. Of course, he didn’t expect you to get something and give nothing.

It was decided that you’d offer your knowledge as a writer to help with negotiation and charming shadows in the Metaverse. You’d turn those golden lines you wrote on the pages into real-life lessons, and Akira would learn to seduce shadows, to out-smart them, to persuade them to give up everything they had: their money, precious belongings, even their very selves. He would flirt, threaten, intimidate, any honeyed word or silver-tongued method he could use to make deals with shadows go along more smoothly. Perfect. It would help him out immensely. But, what did you want, he’d asked again.

It felt embarrassing, now that you were put on the spot, forced to disclose it, but although those “golden words” translated well into lessons for others, you found that you couldn’t as easily take your own advice. You struggled with human interaction in your real life, especially of the romantic kind. You could write a healthy relationship out on paper, create the ideal love interest from scratch for a story, but stumbled along words like some socially incompetent fool once it came time to apply that knowledge. As much as you hated to admit it, these days even getting true, realistic romantic moments down on paper was a struggle. The well was drying up, writer’s block, as you’d explained it to your online friends. It was near impossible to make something from nothing, and you had nothing. No real romantic experience. You couldn’t help but think this was the route of the problem. Your writing, your precious romance novel would flourish, if only it’s author wasn’t completely clueless.

“Date me…” You mumbled, surprised out how your long moment of pensive introspection had accumulated into this clunky statement.

“What?” Akira let out a breath he’d seemed to be holding the entire time, just watching you think on what method of reciprocity was worth your help. Losing your nerve at the incredulous tone of his voice and the raise of his brows, you shrunk back a bit, ready to defend your words.

“W-wait!” You held a hand out between you. “Not really. I mean…” how to word this…? “Like, fake!” He looked even more confused than before. You released a noise of frustration. “What I mean is, you take me on dates - fake ones - stupid little stuff couples do, for my writing, of course…” You looked toward the ground, suddenly extremely interested in your shoes.

“How does that benefit you in any way?” He smiled, a bit forced, a blush dusting his pale cheeks.

“Well I- I’ve been having writer's block lately. I mean sure, I can give you lines and lessons from my previous works, drabble and things I’ve learned, written down in the past, but I have no fresh material. Stagnation is every writer’s downfall, but I have no experience, I need more to go off of… and then maybe I can even transfer what I discern from our… interactions - er… dates I mean - to you. Does that make sense?” You looked up at him hopefully.

“Uh… no,” Yeah, you knew it didn’t, but that’s all you had for him. His hand shook, much less confident as Akira than Joker, and he shoved it in his pocket.

“It’s hard to explain, I just… that’s my deal. Will you take it?” You clutched your bag a little closer to your body. “We don’t even have to tell anybody. I just want to experience it… going out… with someone…” It sounded a little more pathetic now that you were actually hearing yourself. You both stood in silence, Akira contemplating your words. It wasn’t that he didn’t like you as a person… it was just… complicated…

“Give me a day to think about it,” he spoke quietly, giving you a polite send off before parting ways.

That night, anxiety set in as you rolled around in your bed restlessly.

Did you sound like a creep? Were you being unreasonable? Was this asking too much of him? Does he think you’re crazy? You’ll probably never hear from him again. He’d probably rather find a way in that crazy Metaverse to erase your memories so he can forget the awkward exchange ever happened. Maybe he’ll kick your shadow’s ass one day.

You debated going to school the next day.

＊

Akira’s night, though not as horrendous as yours, was not a peaceful one. Like so many nights, he found himself awoken to the clink of a ball and chain, dressed in striped rags as he stood and walked to the bars of his cell. The twins were waiting, as always, anger in their eyes.

“Look alive, prisoner!” Caroline spoke.

“Our master would have a word with you!” Justine chimed in. Akira looked up, meeting Igor’s large grin.

“You’ve forsaken a bond, Trickster. One must ask, why?” Igor’s hands splayed over a deck on cards on his desk.

“Huh…? What do you mean?” Sleep lingering in his mind, and confused as to why he was here this time, Akira replied.

“I’ve told you, the bonds you strengthen over time and the new bonds you form, they will be what wins this fight. You can only complete your mission, save all that is, through the support your confidants provide, so why have you abandoned this bond?” Igor’s fingers folded together, hands clasped, a show of disappointment. “Now is not the time to not try hard enough.” Was that a hint of frustration in his tone? If so, he didn’t show it.

“...I’m afraid I don’t understand.” Akira rubbed one eye lazily.

“You’re not trying to understand, worm! Wake up!” Caroline’s fist banged down across the bars, startling Akira slightly. He looked to Igor again, who held up a single card between two fingers. On its face sat two wolves, both howling up at a glittering moon.

“The Moon.” Igor stated plainly. “Illusion, fear, anxiety, intuition, uncertainty, complexity, secrets, the unconscious mind. A friend, a possible lover, someone unsure of themselves and others. Creativity, shadowed by doubt. Someone who supports others but not themselves.” As he spoke, images of your face flashed in Akira’s mind. Igor threw the card into the air, catching it upside-down, letting the wolves fall into the moon, swimming in its glow. “Reversed: release of fear, repressed emotion, clarity, misinterpretations overturned. Someone who can fix what was upright. But you’ve passed over the opportunity.” Igor swipes his free hand in front of the card, and it disappears.

Scenes play out in Akira’s head. Confrontation with shadows, confrontations with real people, but these aren’t real… or rather, haven’t happened yet.

He receives clarity.

The Moon has more to offer than lessons on charisma, seduction, trickery, persuasion. His intuition will grow, his ability to perceive things before they happen, the ability to read and understand people, and be understood in return. Other bonds will grow, empathy will grow. More friends, closer friends, a flash of blue hair, white uniform, red hair, headphones, then a tidy uniform, a Shujin uniform, gloves, a beige jacket, and finally bouncy curls and a soft, high pitched voice. With your help, the Phantom Thieves can grow. Bonds will strengthen. Complexity, Igor had said. More than meets the eye. Was there more to you? You weren’t too bad, obviously intelligent… a bit odd, but kind enough, and he did find you cute… but pretending, a fake relationship? How could a fake bond strengthen

The card reappears, as if out of thin air, and Igor points to one upside down wolf.

“Me.” Joker whispers, as if guided by an unseen force. Igor points to the other wolf.

You.

He awakens with a start, nearly knocking Morgana off the bed. He has an answer for you now.

＊

He finds you at school the next day, huddled in the library and not where you’d said you’d meet him. You’d been dreading this, waiting for the rejection, your hand trembling slightly on the book in your hands. He sits across from you, a look of determination on his face. Waiting for him to speak was torture.

“I’ll do it.” He holds out a hand, waiting for you to shake it, seal the deal. A contact has been signed.

＊

Your first date with Akira is clunky, unpracticed, unprecedented of course. He doesn’t know much about what to do, either, so he takes you to Le Blanc for dinner. Some coffee and curry, maybe a soda and some conversation on the side? It couldn’t be too bad, right? That’s what dudes do, he thought, bring their... pretend sweetheart somewhere for dinner, right? Sojiro is teasing, of course, wondering who this new person was, why Akira was holding their hand. He smirks like a dad proud of his boy, and Akira, too embarrassed under Sojiro’s scrutiny now to sit down and serve you curry, rushes you upstairs.

After being dragged by the hand up rickety old stairs, you end up in Akira’s room alone. You look around, taking in his sparse decorations, humble belongings. It then strikes you that you are, in fact, alone. Alone with a boy in his room, for the first time in your life. You didn’t know how you got here, and so fast. Maybe you were in over your head. Maybe you just needed to calm down. This was part of the process, right? Real couples did this, to get to know each other. He beckons you over, gestures for you to sit on his bed with him. You’re hesitant, but Akira isn’t making a big deal out of it, and you’re not really alone, with Morgana right there, so you sit, as far from him as you could be on the surprisingly soft bed. Struggling for words and new to dates himself, Akira decides to treat you first and foremost like his friend. That makes this all easier.

He spends the next hour or so describing Mementos, his mentor Igor, the twins. He wants you to know everything, and it surprises him. His other confidants, save for the actual Phantom Thieves, don’t know anything about the hidden world their bonds are healing. He describes the arcana to you, the tarot, the way his soul resonates with The Fool, Ryuji The Chariot, Ann The Lovers. His doctor friend is Death, Sojiro the Hierophant. Morgana here is the Magician, and proud of it. He explains how he feels a bond with them, as he now does with you. They make him feel like he can do anything. You’re included in that now. You feel warmth rise to your cheeks. How could he say that so casually? It wasn’t like it was a love confession or whatever, but you had trouble seriously telling your online friends you appreciated having them in your lives without adding a joke or meme in there somewhere. Why did he even need your help? He seemed well spoken. You said so, voicing these opinions aloud.

“Huh.. you know, I actually don’t usually talk this much,” he smiled. “Must just be you.” He was only half teasing. You looked away nervously, feeling the need to change the subject.

“S-so, what am I?” You began to stroke Morgana’s fur, and this time he didn’t seem to mind.

“You mean your soul?” He scooted a bit closer.

“Yeah.” It didn’t go unnoticed.

“The Moon.” He replied softly.

He spent the rest of the night explaining the levels of Mementos, and some of the wicked people whose hearts he’s had the displeasure of seeing inside, but the absolute pleasure of changing. You say you aren’t surprised so many people are walking around so hurt inside or eager to hurt others. When the “date” ends - neither of you having even gotten that promised coffee or curry downstairs - you’re touching, sitting shoulder to shoulder looking at the moon outside his window with Morgana on your lap. The room seems a little warmer, a little less humble. Akira mentions with a sheepish grin that it’s getting late, and offers to walk you home.

Rank Up!

＊

You sit in your bed that night, Akira now having returned to Le Blanc, and think about if this will make good writing material or not. You had to have learned something, right? There was something to be gained from every experience… but you can’t help feeling like you’ve warmed up to the thought of Akira a bit more… not too much, however. You smiled to yourself at the thought of The Fool, tricked into dating the Moon, for all it can offer him.

He’d been so awkward at your front door when he dropped you off. You could tell he had no clue what to do. He was frantically looking around. People in movies kissed their date at this point, cheek or lips, depending on how the date went, right? He confessed that he’s one of those people who truly don’t know anything about romance, like you’d mentioned earlier in one of your conversations. You tell him it’s fine, that you didn’t expect anything, that you just met the other day. He thought he was being clear, dropping hints that he might want to peck your cheek, just a quick gesture to kick off your fake relationship, but maybe he wasn’t as slick as he thought. The hints seemed to go over your head. Maybe he really did need help.

＊

Your second date comes in the form of you begging to go back into the Metaverse for some inspiration. He fights you, bringing up the last time a shadow attacked you, but you are persistent. He gives in, taking you to the highest rung of Mementos, where the shadows are weak and he can keep you safe adequately on his own. It is a date, after all, no Phantom Thieves tagging along. Mementos is a bit more frightening than Kamoshida’s Palace, you mention, and he eases your fear, promising to protect you here, always. You take in his Phantom Thief uniform in more detail as you walk the long corridors of the realm of the subconscious and decide he looks quite handsome in it.

You watch him battle a demon that is the personification of lust, a succubus-like creature dripping with temptation and love, or so it thinks. Joker uses all that you’ve taught him so far, which isn’t much, and cons the false idol of love out of their money. It was quite comical yet a bit sad to watch the shadows expression fall from a cocky to a defeated one, but preformative love you’ve decided, is doomed to lose. The irony flies over your head.

From this experience, watching Joker fight with speed and grace, you settle on a genre for your novel. It will be a high-fantasy romance. Joker will inspire your main character, of course, but the love interest… was still undecided. You started drafting her to look like Ann, act like Ann, give off the energy and power Ann does. Ryuji was an option at first as well to inspire the love interest’s personality, but he was a bit too brash. You wanted someone strong, but soft and elegant at the same time. These characters were loosely based on the Phantom Thieves, anyway, so it didn’t really matter.

＊

When you leave the Metaverse, though Akira is a bit exhausted, he takes you to a local casual restaurant to make up for the last time at Le Blanc. There, sitting across the counter from you two is an older gentleman. Yoshida, Akira whispers, is a friend of his, another confidant. The Sun. Yoshida makes small talk, asking politely if you’re with Akira, and you feel your stomach clench. You knew this was fake, the agreement was clear, but hearing it aloud, the awkward ‘we’re just friends’ that was coming made you sweat. It still felt like rejection anyway. When Akira confirms that yes, you are in fact dating, your eyes widen, the coil in your stomach releasing. He smiles, taking your hand. This has to be an act, a show to play up the relationship. He’s just performing his duty, his role, holding up his end of the deal in order to simulate a real relationship and give you worthwhile source material… right?

Either way, you appreciate not being publicly humiliated, and smile back. That night, you write down everything, and what it’s like to not be alone.

Rank Up!

＊

Days pass, Kamoshida coming and going, justice being served, and you spend more and more time with your fake boyfriend. Your parents let him come over, and in your room you let him read some of the old poetry you’ve written, some lame pining drabble from your younger years, and some more recent things you’re proud of. He scours your room, digging up old hobbies and photos. You tell him all about them. He tells you he enjoys learning these things about you. You simply smile. It doesn’t seem to be the reaction he was looking for. Not liking the small frown that adorns his features, you pick the conversation back up, asking if he thinks you’ll ever have a persona. He smiles, maybe someday.

Rank Up!

＊

The Phantom Thieves are gaining fame, only more fodder for your writing. The more you hang out with Akira and his friends, the more real it feels. Your online friends can feel it, too. They sense you changing, talking less of writing and more of Akira. They tease you, of course, but they don’t get it. He’s just a main character… just a muse.

This time, Akira walks home to Le Blanc alone, wondering if he should tell you how he feels. He doesn’t like it, holding up this pretense of a fake relationship, pretending the glances and touches don’t matter. He wants to tell you…

...that he’s slowly falling.

You receive a little gift in the mail the next day. It’s a deck of tarot cards. The return address is blank. You call him to tell him all about it, and end up discussing the pros and cons of each card all night. What a coincidence that you should receive your own deck all of a sudden.

Rank Up!

＊

There are moments where you’re afraid you may be falling, too. There was the time that a blue-haired young man stalked you and your friends through Shibuya, turning corners when you did, always on your trail. When Ryuji finally got fed up and confronted the weirdo, asking why the hell he was following you guys, he’d revealed that his name was Yusuke, a student of a painting master, and that he was simply following inspiration where it lead.

“Your friend there, I was drawn to them,” he points elegantly, like some manga bishounen, past Ryuji and toward you. “I beg of you, allow me to paint your form. Something about your normalcy stands out. What I mean is, there is beauty to be found in not standing out, a silent grace in being so plain.” You could tell Yusuke meant no harm, that he simply may be a bit socially inept with his words, as well, but the way he was talking about you set something in Akira on fire. He stood in front of you, shifting until his body blocked yours from Yusuke’s sight.

“They aren’t plain.” He spoke with a dangerous edge to his tone, and you felt your heartbeat speed up. The hint of jealousy in his voice at Yusuke’s request for you to model for him, and anger at him calling someone he found so fascinating plain was evident.

＊

Yusuke seemed to be in denial in the coming days. Though your little troupe seemed to constantly be bumping into him, offering him sound advice and trying to awaken him to the mire of corruption that was the truth behind his mentor, Ichiryusai Madarame, he refused to see reason. He dove further into his art, but you could tell he was hurting. You used your time with Akira these days to teach him how art, much like film and literature, can reflect false truths and influence people. The deception, corruption and shallowness of the media extended to the art world, as he learned after one or two gallery visits with you.

It was then, in a gallery displaying Yusuke’s work, as you sat in a secluded corner alone discussing ways to take down Madarame, that Akira started to flirt incessantly.

He takes your hand, bringing up romantic tropes in movies he’s seen that seem so forced, one-sided, cliche, uncomfortable. He mentions that he would’ve done better, explains how those scenes would’ve played out if he had any say.

“Is that so?” Your brow raises, amused by how animated this usually quiet boy could be when he was passionate about something.

“Yeah! Of course! What, you don’t see me doing that?” he laughed breathily, going on about how the male lead of some high-school romance film Sojiro rented for him was clumsy, forceful, and didn't give his lover time and space to think about their feelings. “I would’ve treated them much, much better… “ his words trail off, as if lost in thought.

“...Is that so?” You ask again, studying his face and asking yourself how you didn’t notice before how beautiful the hue of his eyes were. You sure as hell were noticing now… steely grey, sharp, deep, purposeful. You’d have to write that down… for research purposes of course. When you pull yourself back to reality, no longer lost in the swirl of his irises, you realize he’s staring at you, and has been for some time.

“Do… can I-” he speaks, throat dry, and scoots himself closer. “May I kiss you…?” His voice is soft, so soft, scared.

“...Yes.” You answer, naturally, impulsively, voice just as soft. When Akira leans forward, and softly presses his apprehensive lips to yours, you feel like you’ve been set on fire. Your mind begins to go crazy, while your body is frozen. It’s not that you didn’t like it, some part of you did. You wanted more, but it felt wrong. This wasn’t real. You didn’t truly like him… right? This kiss was fake, for research purposes… to cure writer’s block…

...right?

You were frozen more from guilt than nerves. Weren’t first kisses supposed to feel like little butterflies in your stomach? Did he think he owed you this? Were you taking advantage of him at this point? Did he feel forced to kiss you to keep up his end of the bargain?

Akira deepened the kiss, a hand on the back of your neck, guiding you, begging you to reciprocate. When you didn’t, lost in your own head, he pulls away, a small frown tugging at his lips.

“W-we… we should head home. I’ll walk you…” he sighs. You both stand, make your way back onto the main street from the museum, and are silent the entire walk home.

You think he’s silent because you’ve forced him to think he needs to kiss you, and now regrets his decision. He thinks you’re silent because he’s just forced a kiss upon you, just like some Chad from a movie who can’t understand boundaries. Neither of you know your silence is for the exact same reasons.

Akira drops you off at home with a quiet ‘goodnight,’ and walks home, clearing his head in the cool night air.

“Stupid… jeez… fuckin’ stupid,” he huffs, repirmanding himself. This wasn’t real. You’d stated that from the beginning. This relationship was to benefit your writing, to help him in the Metaverse, nothing else. Nothing else.

Nothing. Else.

It was his fault he let himself develop real feelings. He has no right to be sad, to blame you, to get upset. You’d stated the terms from the very start…

Maybe he really was The Fool.

Rank Up…?

＊

The next few weeks are awkward.

Both of you think it’s your fault.

You go on dates like usual, but they are strictly business. You get writing material, he gets advice, no touching, and certainly no kissing. Yusuke joins the group. Things are great… friendly… strained, tense. Akira wonders what the hell he’s doing, if this bond is even worth it. Weeks pass. He feels your bond with him growing, but not in the way he wishes. It felt like all of his other confidants: visit, gain, rank up, gain power, learn. He wonders if he can keep this up. His heart aches. He wants to touch you more, but can’t, wants to tell you more, but won’t let himself.

＊

One rainy night, he calls you, like he often does when you can’t meet up in person, and tells you he can’t do this anymore. You lie, and say you agree. The guilt won’t let you tell him the truth, that you want to end the farce, move onto something more real. You can sense your feelings for him growing stronger each day, and it’s not fair to him. Without fighting, without the big “it’s not you it’s me you” you’re used to reading about in books, you tell him you respect his decision, and it’s over. When Akira hangs up, he finds himself a bit angry inside. You didn’t even try to fight for the relationship. There was a tiny little part of him that hoped you felt anything for him, that maybe it meant something to you. He cries that night, for the first time in a long time. They are angry tears, frustrated ones.

＊

In your bed, you find yourself sitting upright, dead inside, unfeeling, empty. You feel like a part of you is gone, but can’t pinpoint why. You don’t even notice the tears sliding down your own cheeks as you sift through the pack of tarot cards that mysteriously came into your life. You find The Moon, and play with it, twisting it between your fingers before sending it flying across the room like a paper dart. Did this mean you couldn’t hang out with the Phantom Thieves anymore? Were you losing your only in-real-life friends and… boyfriend(?) all in the same day?

You sifted through the cards and gently set aside the Emperor, the Lovers, the Chariot. Then your hand drifted over the Fool. You held it out in front of your face. A dancing man looking up at the sky with a jesters cap perched upon his head smiled back at you.

The start of a great journey, freedom from constraints. Each day is an adventure. Courage, anything can happen. There is a need to experience new things, to let yourself experience the love you deserve. Be willing to take risks.

A sad, thoughtful smile crosses your lips. You turn the card upside down.

If you disregard the repercussions of your actions, you are the Fool. You cannot see the position you’ve put yourself in. Is everything what it seems to be?

A breath catches in your throat, a wave of nausea hitting you. You scramble for your phone, and dial a number.

Silence, ringing, silence.

“...Yeah…?” Akira sniffles. He’s been crying???

“I want… can we talk… can I come over?”

“It’s late.”

“It’s not, we came home way earlier than usual. You’re just using that as an excuse.” You were feeling a little braver than usual, the spirit of the Fool within you. You heard him thinking, a sigh that came through as static.

“Yeah… fine, I’ll be waiting.” Relief washed over you.

＊

When you knocked on the door after speed-walking to Le Blanc, Sojiro let you in with a warm smile. He obviously didn’t know about your falling out with Akria, yet.

“He’s upstairs,” he gestured, exhaustion evident in his voice. You rushed past, thanking him with a small bow of your head. Only now was the inevitable fear starting to sink in. Akira heard footsteps creaking on the stairs. Sojiro never came up unannounced, and with that realization, his back stiffened. Morgana picked up your scent, excusing himself, passing you on your way up the stairs. He could take a hint.

He stood immediately, stepping toward you, stopping halfway. You shrunk into yourself, unable to meet his eyes.

“Akira… I wanted to talk…” you muttered.

“You said that… about what?” He was more than a little pissed, but he was always one to hide his temper well.

“Can we sit…?” You gestured to his small sofa. It didn’t feel right to sit on the bed. He hesitated, before shuffling over and sitting next to you. “I wanted to apologize.”

“For what?” Oh, there were so many things, but he wanted to know what you thought was worth apologizing over. Maybe he wasn’t being fair, he dialed back his attitude a tad.

“For… making you enter into the agreement in the first place. Someone’s affections, their love, their touch and body… it’s not something that can be forced. It should never be pretend.” You felt like the biggest hypocrite ever right now. His head shook a bit in disbelief, blinking hard.

“I wasn’t pretending!” His hands flew to his hair, mussing it. “That was the problem.” He sighed heavily.

“What?” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“I wasn’t being forced… are you… you must be the most oblivious person I’ve ever met.” He laughed cynically.

“But-”

“Wait, wait, why did you think I ended our” he put air quotes up, “ ‘fake’ relationship.” He needed this clarification, now. For closure, for redemption, to fix things, whatever may come next.

“Because… because I was forcing you to date me! You were uncomfortable?!” You could feel your voice begin to break, tears clawing to escape. You’d never felt so disgusted with yourself as you did right now.

“Are you serious?” He took both of your hands, looking you in the eyes. You nod. “Answer truthfully. Do you have feelings for me? Real ones?” You bit your lip, that feeling of selfish guilt creeping like bile up your throat. You nod again. “This whole time?” Another nod. He releases you, turning away. “Sheesh, maybe I’m the oblivious one here…” he spoke more to himself than to you. You both sat in tense silence, not sure what to do, what to say.

“Akira…”

“It was real to me,” he moved closer, trapping you against the end of the couch.

“Really?” Your heartbeat was going crazy, and he leaned ever so slightly closer, his hand on the back of the couch for support. “I broke up with you because it was hurting me to pretend I didn’t have real feelings for you, and to think you didn’t want me back, not for real. I thought… that you’d always think of me as just some character for your book.”

“No… Akira… had I known you felt this way…” He leaned in further, your noses bumping slightly, clumsily. This time, he felt no discomfort, no hesitation from your side. His heart fluttered in excitement. You could feel his breath on your warm cheeks.

“May I kiss you?” He asked again, a secondary, unspoken question sitting beneath his words.

“Yes.” Your voice was shaky, but you were sure, for once, of what you wanted. His hand went to your back, cradling you into his chest to lay down flat against the couch. With a passion he’d been holding back, he pressed his lips to yours without reservation. You sunk into the warm, plush feeling, tilting your head at a better angle. He kept the kiss soft, shallow, low pressure, looking for you to give him the signal to stop. When your arms reached upward, snaking around his neck and pulling him harder down into you, he groaned softly, barely audible, before passing his tongue over your lips a single time. You parted your lips, allowing him access, and his hand, pale and trembling, came up and found its way under the hem of your shirt, splayed nervously against the smooth skin there.

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mrwinterr · 4 years

Text

So Happy

Pairing: Rockstar!Bucky Barnes AU x Female Reader

Summary: After a night with your favorite artist, you’re left wondering where you both really stand.

Warnings: Smut 18+ (consensual, but unprotected sex, oral [male & female receiving], vaginal penetration and fingering, size kink and dirty talk). Language. Light mentions of substance abuse. Lying asses. Internet toxicity (I hate it here sometimes). Angst, I guess...TIME SKIP...and absolute horrendous fluff (that’s not my brand, alright).

Disclaimer: You can read part 1 here! It would make some sense.

A/N: This follow-up is still based on some true events. Can’t hate the players, hate the game. For the most part it’s made up because some of us deserve the ending we think we deserve. I’m dedicating this to @shawnie--jo for all the love, enthusiasm and the patience because this took me a while. It’s a doozy! & with that note, enjoy!

“You owe me,” is the first thing you hear your friend say the moment you stepped foot back into the hotel you had booked for the night before. It was in a much different tone than of the one she had in line for the concert.

Frozen in place, you turn your attention to her sitting figure on one of the single couches of the lobby. She wasn’t happy that much you could tell judging by the expression on her face and the way she sat impatiently, one leg over the other and her arms crossed against her chest.

The bag next to hers on the ground adjacent to her feet were your belongings. The way it was misshapen suggested she had hastily shoved your things back in it for you. She must’ve been in a rush to leave before checking out or…

“You owe me $50 for the late check out fee,” she clarifies, ceasing all thoughts of why she was currently pissed at you.

Now begins the walk of shame. It wasn’t something you were used to. Could you even call this that? You had no reason to feel ashamed because you were completely aware of last night’s events. You defended your decision as so! Then why did you feel this way?

Perhaps it had to do with you just now returning to the hotel you were supposed to have been checked out of hours ago, but instead you’re greeted to your more than displeased best friend staring daggers at you for a different reason.

Sheepishly bringing a hand to rub the back of your neck, when you’re close enough to her, you open your mouth to begin apologizing, but she wasn’t done as she got up on her feet to level with you.

“You said you would be back before check out,” she said voice slowly rising in volume, no matter the distance between you two was close or not, you could tell this was just the start of a catalyst, “and it’s...oh,” she stops to look down at her phone, which shined bright revealing her lock screen and more importantly the time, “...only three hours past check out!” Yup, not happy with you at all.

“I know you’re upset,” you start with the obvious, “and you have the right to be. I said I would be back in time, but I wasn’t,” maybe admitting you were wrong would allow her to see you were indeed aware of your mistakes, soften the blow to come a little bit.

“Upset? I’m disappointed!” she says, her arms falling to her sides and with a look of disbelief but is quickly washed over with indisposition. “Some sell-out rockstar invites you over to see him and you lose your sense of mind?”

“Look, I’ll pay you back. It’s no big deal.” At least on your end, you’re trying to remain calm even when her tone and choice of words get under your skin. You didn’t need this weekend to end on a bad note.

“This isn’t about the money!” She proclaimed.

“Then why are you bitching at me? I’m a grown adult! I know what I did-” Yeah, at least you were trying to stay composed, right?

“Do you?” She challenges. It’s one of those rhetorical questions, in which she didn’t need an answer to, but you were still going to give her one.

“Yes, ok. I slept with Bucky and I don’t regret it.”

The defense you put up so quickly around you weren’t something your friend was used to witnessing...maybe to your parents, yeah, but not at her. Sure, you’ve both had the occasional quarrels, but your relationship and sexual life was different because she really cared for your wellbeing and would be damned if someone hurt you.

“I’m just worried,” she admits for her initial brute front, “what you did was totally unlike you and I…”

“What?” You interrupt her, growing more tired of this conversation by the second.

“I don’t trust Bucky.” She blurts out.

You scoff at that reasoning, “you don’t know him-”

“And you do?” This time she interrupts and catches you off guard on that one. “You’re right. I don’t know him, but you said it yourself. Bucky meets tons of people every day. He’s on the road a lot. It’s easy for him to get lonely.”

There it was again. The self-conscious thoughts questioning everything about last night’s events. In a pathetic display of defense, you start counter-questioning her with some of the statements Bucky said to you. Why would he tell you all those sweet things and pretty promises if he knew he could have you so easily? Why would he think you weren’t like the other women out there who exposed their escapades for their 15 minutes of fame? What made him think anything of you? There were other girls in the crowd.

“He’s going to tell you things he wants you to hear to get what he wants.” She really believed that. She knew what some men were capable of. She had more experience than you and you often turned to her for things like this.

Her last sentence was something to let sink in. The way last night played out and the last few hours you spent with Bucky; you were blinded by a rose tint world.

Earlier that morning...

“You know,” Bucky starts with his gaze first set on your face, slowly starting to drift down your body trying to catch a glimpse of uncovered skin that the blanket was doing a horrible job in concealing. You watch with bubbling desire the way he bit his bottom lip and eyes growing darker, ”...if you ever need anything. I’m here to help. I can get you out of that town and you can stay with me in Brooklyn. We’ll find you a place to work in that’ll appreciate you more.”

He was a dream. He was so sweet, but you weren’t going to deny it. As much as you adored what little you knew about the real Bucky, a part of you that was always so careful was also skeptical. That voice in the back of your mind, whether it was your parents, teachers in the past, PSA spokespersons or your best friend, was still trying to tell you Bucky wasn’t an exception.

Then on the other hand, you were finally getting what you wanted. You weren’t a little girl anymore. You could take care of your own heart. Why couldn’t you have some fun? Indulge a little. Life is too short to sit around and wait. If he was serious about any of the things he said, then great! If not, oh well, you’ll live. What’s life without experience, right?

You just never imagined any of the harmless mentions or replies through social media were going to get you in bed with him and so smitten.

When Bucky pulls his lips away from you, he repositions himself on the bed to lie on his back and bask in the comfortable silence. You’re still on your side, but your eyes suddenly widen as you curiously take a peek over his frame and notice the red numbers of the alarm clock on the bedside table. The curtains were drawn shut, so you had no trace of the actual time of day.

“Shit,” you muttered to yourself, but was no use. It was just you and Bucky in the room and he’d definitely wonder why you’d grown frantic.

“Whoa. What’s the rush?” He says slowly sitting up, still exhausted, and watching you throw the hotel comforter over your body to get out of bed. You didn’t even care that you were naked in front of him. He’d have a souvenir to remember you by.

The sex tape was the least of your worries though. You fucking missed check out! You can only imagine the look on your friend’s face when you reunite.

“I missed check out,” you respond while momentarily being thrown off course in search of your underwear, but then instantly remembering how Bucky tore it off of you, and you did your best to push aside last night’s activities.

“What?” He asks, rubbing his face trying to rid himself of sleep. He had to get going too. The band was off to play in the next city in some hours. Unfortunately, you didn’t have enough time to take off from work to follow him.

“The hotel I’m staying at. I missed check out and my friend is going to be so pissed at me,” you explained beaten. You can’t for the life of you see where your clothes were in the dark room.

Drawing the curtains open or switching the light on without warning wouldn’t be ideal to the both of you and not only that, the effects of the substances your body was coursed through, the physicality of you and Bucky’s actions last night, the consequence of it all topped with the lone fact that you’re now standing naked in front of Bucky starts to seep in.

You try not to stand there awkwardly and do the only thing you can do. Inhibition creeping back in, you cover your face with your hands and breath in and out, hoping the floor would swallow you whole so you could escape this embarrassment and your friend’s pending wrath.

“Look,” Bucky says now in front of you, pulling your hands away from your face, he’s naked too, washing away some traces of vulnerability away, “you’re already late. You can’t change that. We can only keep moving forward,” he says, his arms slipping around your body to pull you close to his.

The sudden jolt from the skin-to-skin contact quickly subsides with the warmth of his body transferring onto yours. You hold onto his biceps and nod in acceptance. Any attempt to rush back to your hotel wasn’t going to do you any favors now.

“So then, what do you say we get cleaned up and try to enjoy our time together?” The way his head tilted to the side, a not-so-subtle hint in the direction of the shower in the bathroom, his smooth voice and his eyes half-lidded, ready to get lost in you one more time.

You said it yourself, life was short, so if you already knew your friend was going to chew you out, why deny yourself of its pleasures right now, especially if it’s coming from Bucky.

“Can we just get going? We’ll catch traffic on the way back to the city if we just stand here and keep putting each other down,” you ask, slightly shaking your head of the early morning activities and straightening yourself up, bending forward to pick up your bag and sling it over your shoulder.

This little spat would eventually pass. None of the arguments you two had were ever threatening to your friendship with each other. You’ve both fought over things much more critical that it’d be a shame to let it be over someone like Bucky.

Before you could turn back around to exit, your friend grabs a hold of your arm and stops you. “I don’t want to see you get hurt. I could be wrong. Bucky could be the one, but I want you to be smart about doing whatever you end up doing with him. I just want you to ultimately be happy,” she says wholeheartedly.

You knew she was only coming from a good place. She only ever encouraged you to do your best and the right thing. She was the one you sought out advice from and she never led you astray. In the end, you knew you couldn’t ever truly be mad at her. You owed her more than $50 alone.

“Thanks. I’m sorry for snapping at you. I know your intentions are in the right place and I really appreciate you for everything. You even agreed to come to this show with me! But I’m only human and I’m going to make mistakes along the way,” you say and notice the fallen look on her face, but you don’t give her long enough to feel sorry for you with your follow up statement, “...if I get hurt, it’s going to suck, but I’ll get back up, learn from it and move on. Plus, I’ll have you there by my side to tell you I told you so...again, and we both know how much you enjoy that!” You end it on a joking note.

A look of hope creeps back in on your friend and she’s pleased to see your resilient attitude again. You give her your best steadfast smile and it seemingly proved to be successful enough for her to accept your answer as she pulls you in for a warm hug.

You wonder, what Bucky’s motive was? He was Bucky Barnes. He could have anyone. Why did he trust you enough to be intimate with? What was his game? You just had to keep telling yourself for your sanity and wellbeing, with or without Bucky, in the end you’d still be happy.

The months to follow after that tour, you and Bucky had continued to stay in touch. You genuinely felt happy. He was giving you attention! From daily texts and long phone conversations or video calls, some rather suggestive than most, you were able to really learn a lot about each other. While you minded his glamorous lifestyle, each interaction erased all notions of it and he was just another normal human being.

If you were being truthful, a part of you was hoping whatever the two of you had was exclusive. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were in a way reserving yourself for Bucky because you felt there was something between you two and maybe he was just like you and too shy to be the one to bring it up first.

At times you’d find yourself being the one to initiate conversation...especially when the communication started becoming less frequent. They then reduced to just Holiday texts and suddenly they’d become unresponsive and you’d even be left on read. He never flew you to Brooklyn. He never followed you back on social media. You’d accepted he was most likely busy and the excuse of not wanting to attract unwanted attention to you, but the reality of it was he had seemed to move on.

It’d been close to a year and things were really quiet. The Avengers hadn’t released anything new nor did they have an upcoming tour to rehearse for. You’re trying to not let Bucky’s silence bug you and do what you’ve always told yourself - keep living your life. You weren’t going to lie to yourself, you were angry at first for letting him get to you like that and realize that boys will be boys. They would never grow a real pair and be straight with women. They always had to go and sugarcoat everything. You had to accept it. Don’t hate the player, hate the game. You were just a one-night stand and the worst part of it was that you consented to it, so you couldn’t hold anything against him.

Things picked back up in your life, work demanded more of your time and you were dating again, taking it very slow and casual. You knew nothing more would come out of it, but it was enough to distract you from Bucky. Life was slowly returning back to normal, even though it never truly could be, until you notice Bucky is posting regularly on his social media accounts again.

It’s not so much that but is one of the comments from another user that is a constant in each sporadic post. You recognize the user as an international model from another country. Curiosity gets the best of you and you decide to check out her profile, noting all the photos of them together and realizing that while you thought Bucky went M.I.A., he was spending his free time getting cozy with her in exotic places.

Her comments start out harmless in the beginning, but quickly become more and more persistent until one sets the record straight. It read, “that’s MY man” followed by a number of heart eye emojis.

You didn’t even know Bucky and the model knew of each other, but why wouldn’t they? He was exposed to extraordinary people, so finding someone in the business was a better bet than settling with you. They lived in a totally different world than yours.

There’s a plethora of thoughts that run through your mind. This is why he isn't responding to you. He had a girlfriend, who was in a much different league than of your own, and he didn’t really go public with it on his end. It made you sad, that much you could admit to yourself because you held back for him, but you weren’t going to admit this feeling to him or your friend or the world. You were going to prove to them you’d do the same thing - move on.

It’s a rather slow day at work and you’ve resulted in mindlessly scrolling through your Facebook newsfeed, but growing tired of lame memes and life updates from people you haven’t spoken to since high school, you switch over to Twitter for a more different kind of news and also a bit of some entertainment.

You’re not expecting the particular topic to be trending - #BuckyBarnesIsCancelled. You’d manage to move on from whatever it was between you and Bucky and returned back to your daily routine. You tried to remain a fan of The Avengers, but it wasn’t the same. The fling, if you could call it, with Bucky wouldn’t let you. You’d always be grateful for how their music impacted your life, but you’d have to keep living your life despite what transpired.

Sitting up from your slumped position in your office chair, you ponder for maybe two seconds before clicking on the hashtag. Things were still pretty quiet with The Avengers, with the exception of paparazzi photos here and there, but this seemingly came out of nowhere. What stupid thing did he get himself into?

“No way,” you mock at the headline. Claims of Bucky being mentally abusive, and an addict were being made left and right.

You scrolled through the timeline and threads of replies to find the source of it all and you were shocked that it came from none other than his own girlfriend...well now ex-girlfriend you assumed. The vindictive side of you only allowed a small part in finding some humor in this, but if Bucky was any bit of the Bucky you spent the night with and got to know for those few short months then this was sad for him.

There wasn’t much you could do though. What were you to do? Send him a message of condolences of some sort? He’d probably just leave you on read. Whatever you two had was long over.

Bucky’s agency did well to defend him and save his reputation. They released one statement to clear things up. There’d been images before of him partying and no doubt high on some substance, but that didn’t prove he was an addict. Then again, did you ever really know him? You’d been exposed to that stuff around and because of him. Some people just had more access to certain things than others did.

In some time, when things leveled out once more, he seemed to be back in the clear, but at a rate where people have already decided whose story they believed over the other, whose side they were on, the damage had been done. If there was a recurring theme here, Bucky had one thing to do after the scandal - move on with his life.

It felt a little strange being here again. If you take into consideration some of the things that had already happened, a lot has really changed since you were last in a line to see The Avengers live.

The band had taken a short hiatus to let the fire die out from Bucky’s scandal. It was probably a smart move - to let people cool their jets and forget. It was last reported Bucky had turned a new leaf...something about getting help. Steve took time off to focus on other projects...something about humanitarian work. Sam released some solo stuff...something with a different sound, but still as successful. The time off was probably the best for the guys.

There weren’t as many people it seemed, but enough for them to play in one of the city’s largest venues. You suppose that’s what a span of three years could do to an artist. When the tour was announced you weren’t sure if you should buy a ticket or not, but it’d been some time since you had a night where you could forget about the stresses of the world for a few hours. Never mind the short stint between you and Bucky, you were still a fan of their music and the joyous feeling you got from it was timeless.

This time you were alone. You didn’t even tell your friend they were touring again. Bucky was almost a nonexistent topic for a good while now. Plus, she had her own life to live and couldn’t always be there next to you. You were the bigger fan after all. On top of that, she would’ve most likely have advised against you attending.

Your attire was not to impress, electing on something casual and comfortable with a simple pair of jeans, a leather jacket over a nice top that did a better job at controlling your cleavage than the last one, and cute boots. Yeah, a lot had changed, but the scene didn’t as there were still a mix of fans, old and new, over and under dressed.

The guys still had it. They looked great! They definitely belonged on the stage for the world to see. They even played a 3-song encore. You could tell they loved doing what they did and anyone who was a fan could feel the passion and energy they poured out in the performance.

You’re currently sitting in the seat of your car, head resting against the headrest as you try to unwind a little from standing for a few hours and from the walk back to the parking garage when your phone vibrates and chimes loudly.

You glance over at the device you placed next to the driving console and your eyebrows scrunch in confusion at the name that appeared. Bucky Barnes. You’d never deleted his number and his text message thread had remained at the very bottom of your messaging app all this time. A sense of apprehension flows through you as you wonder what he could possibly want. How do you just text someone after ghosting them for over a year? Not to mention to someone you did something so intimate with and made all those promises to in the past. How does one do that?

Not wanting to dwell on it any longer or slip into restless thoughts about Bucky again because it wasn’t a walk in the park to forget about him, you open the text. It asks if you were in attendance because he claimed to have seen you in the crowd. This time around you’re not overthinking about what to respond with, you simply say yes. He’d been quick with his next message asking if you were still in the area to meet up.

The wise thing would probably be to reject the invite, but you find yourself once again staring at a hotel door waiting for him to open it. Initially, you’d suggested he tell you what he wanted to say via text, but he said it was something that had to be told in person. So, having been through what you had as a result of meeting up with him in the past, you had some sense of mind this time, you’d just have to make another mental note to not jump into bed with him again. If you were being truthful to yourself, the sex tape left you feeling a little cheap. He didn’t even send it to you as some form of fucked up courtesy or assure you that it wasn’t ever going to get leaked and luckily it hasn’t. You hoped he’d deleted it.

It was almost like Deja vu. You might as well have been reliving the night the first time Bucky invited you over to his hotel room. In the beginning it was kind of awkward and quiet, and it was exactly that years later, just with added history of course.

You’d chosen to sit on the end of one of the beds while Bucky moved slowly around the room trying to gather his thoughts and where to start. He notices the change in you. You were more confident and as you should be. Bucky Barnes couldn’t intimidate you this time. He had more to be embarrassed about than you did now.

Even though you had nowhere to be in the morning, it was getting late and you really would just like to get this meeting over with and Bucky was stalling.

“Bucky, why did you invite me here?” You say, the one to break the ice. He finally stops fidgeting around and focuses on you.

“I...I wanted to apologize,” he starts off, and you’re unmoving silence allows him to continue, “I realize how much of a complete dick I was to you…”

“What do you mean?” You ask. It’s not like he spread any dirty rumors about you or anything. He didn’t need to apologize for anything that you’re aware of. Maybe for leading you on, but you came to terms some time ago that maybe he didn’t owe you an explanation or perhaps you’d never get one. Yet here you both are.

“I used you,” he explains, now you’re confused, and he can see you’re not getting it entirely, which pains him. You didn’t think anything he did with you was wrong because you consented to it. It took two to tango, right?

Except it wasn’t like that at all and he wanted you to know how he strung you along all just for a quick fuck in the beginning and to cover his tracks he acted like he cared in getting to know you afterwards not realizing something purely good could come out of it for him. The confession wasn’t meant to hurt you again, but for you to realize your worth. He messed up with someone so special.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I remembered you from years before when you tripped in front of me,” there’s a small trace of happiness in the fond memory, “...and when I saw you in the crowd that night, fuck you looked so good and you still do…” he ended up a flustered mess after that small admission.

“Where is this going?” You ask hoping he’d get back on track and reveal the rest, trying to keep the fact he admitted an attraction to you in the back of your mind.

“Right...I’ll admit my ego got the best of me. The band was doing so well, everyone noticed us! I was getting attention from all kinds of people! I got hooked to different things,” suppose those articles were true then about him getting clean, you thought to yourself, “...it does get lonely on the road and I was so desperate for anyone,” oh you hoped and prayed he wouldn’t say what he was going to say next, but he does, “...and I knew there wouldn’t be that much effort on my part to get you to sleep with me.”

Great. Your friend was right then, and he was just like any other house name artist.

“Um...okay, that’s not something I was wanting to hear about myself,” you said after letting that sink in. Did you still appear to look easy?

“No, I’m sure it’s not, but when we were alone together everything was just easy-”

“Yeah, I got that. I’m easy!” You interrupt, and now you’re angry. As he’s trying to explain his actions, you started thinking about how mad and hurt you were when he started ghosting you. You couldn’t be upset about him getting a girlfriend, but the fact that he didn’t think he could continue even being your friend and instead just chose to ignore you was the better option was hella annoying.

“That’s not what I meant!” He says trying to justify his choice of words.

“Then how did you mean it?” You demand, and Bucky is a bit stunned with your new attitude. He foresaw that he would have a difficult time in explaining himself, but he didn’t think it’d be this hard dealing with how much his actions affected you.

“Everything was easy with you because you made it easy to feel,”

“I don’t know if I understand,” you say and attempt to get up, “...maybe this was a bad idea.”

“No, please. Let me finish,” Bucky is quick to get in front of you as he pleads for you to stay. You give him a slight nod and sit back down.

“Things with you were easy in a sense that being around you I was able to just be myself. I’ve never said those things to girls before you! I didn’t have to impress you with anything flashy. I even forgot I was some rockstar! You’re an incredible person, really-”

“I’m sorry, Bucky, but I just can’t,” you say, hating to interrupt him again, but you’re not ready to hear any of this, “...none of this still doesn’t sound right. It was just one night and then how do you explain just ghosting me the moment you get a supermodel girlfriend?” that last part came out unintentionally feisty but might as well let him know how you’d felt, “You couldn’t even be my friend when you were with her! I guess it was easy to just forget me too…”

Bucky lowers his head ashamed of how he handled that and just nods in acknowledgement of his actions, “you’re right. It doesn’t make sense, but what I feel is even harder to explain...”

“None of this accounts for her,” you demand. A part of you just wanted to know where she came from. How did it happen? Who asked who out? It wasn’t important information to know about, but the urge of human curiosity was large.

“She wasn’t even my idea,” he muttered, not really wanting to talk about her.

“What?” You ask.

“Getting with her was the label’s idea,” he admits, hating he was coerced into the idea of an on-screen relationship.

You scoff at the stupidity of fake relationships in the Entertainment industry. Why did people get their rocks off over it? Were OTPs really that a big deal? Are people so bored with their own lives that they have to push corporate into bringing two people who don't have feelings for each other together? However, Bucky thinks you don’t believe him and given how little you developed in trusting him with things, he’s not entirely wrong.

“I know it was a dumb thing to agree to and it’s one of the horrors working in this business, but I know now I should’ve just been forward with you,” Bucky says, voice still riddled begging for forgiveness.

“Why couldn’t you then?” You interrogate and notice the creases of distress on his face soften. “If I made it so easy to feel, then why wasn’t it just that to tell me the truth?”

“I-I don’t know,” he replies.

“Yes, you do,” you retort, and pretend you’re going to leave, but by doing so you know it’ll only get him to spill the beans quicker.

“I was scared!” He admits, stepping in front of you and keeping you still in your place on the end of the bed.

“Scared? Of what? Me?” You ask incredulously looking up at him.

“Yes!” He says and kneels down in front of you. “You’re so perfect! You’re real! You don’t treat me like I’m some celebrity. You didn’t even participate when people started cancelling me or whatever! You could’ve and you had every right to expose me, but you didn’t!” Your act did the trick, because the words just kept coming out of Bucky.

“I’m so sorry for ignoring you, for not telling you I was with her, but the more I got to know you, a part of me got really scared that I couldn’t keep being the kind of man you deserved because of my problems,” by this point, Bucky has placed both his hands on either side of you, his arms trapping you, “...trust me, I had a lot of time to think about everything I did wrong and what harm my reckless lifestyle has on others…I just feared it was already too late, but the one thing that I always thought about that helped me get through it was the lone night I had with you. I was so happy! I wanted that again...I had to get back to that, so I invited you back to try,” you didn’t even realize how close his face was to yours. He looked so torn and you hated seeing him like that, but there was nothing you could say that could fix things right now.

Bucky now felt vulnerable and almost pathetic. Just because he wanted another shot of happiness, and with you of all people, what made it okay for him to think you wanted to try again? You weren’t so certain of what you wanted with him anymore.

“Wow,” is all you give. You’re not sure what more you could add. After all that, he actually liked you? Were you still sure you weren’t living in some fanfic world? You needed some time to think about that and much to Bucky’s expectations, you weren’t going to come to a conclusion before you left this room tonight.

“Is there anything else you want to say?” You offer him the floor, and he gets it. You’re not going to say anything particular to his confession, at least not now. He’s not upset at all. It was a lot to take in. He had time to think, and he had to respect the time you’d need now.

He nods and backs away, realizing the close proximity, “just one question,” you nod this time and let him ask, “do you regret it?”

You know what he’s referring to, sleeping with him, the sex tape, the countless conversations, meeting with him right now - everything.

“No,” you answer honestly.

He lets out a weak smile, looking down sheepishly and adds, “I’ve never done anything like this with anyone before, I promise.”

He could promise and swear up and down all he’d like, but how could you be really sure? The only response you could give him is a small, neutral hum in acknowledgement.

Bucky knew this conversation wasn’t going to go as he had hoped. He really didn’t have a plan, he just really wanted to see you again. He goes silent and you know at this point, everything was all laid out. Time would tell the rest if this was worth saving.

“I can forgive you. I know I can because in a way part of moving on allows one to do so but completing a session or doing time in rehab doesn’t really prove anything,” you said brutally honest with him, he looks up at you almost defeated and just waiting for the final blow.

“You said a lot of promising things back then and you said a lot more tonight,” you add on, and gently begin to remove his hands from the spots either side of you to let you free, and get up to head out, however not with one more thing he could reflect on, also giving him hope, “...you need to show you’ve really changed,” then the conversation was over.

In some ways, these events needed to happen. He had to hit rock bottom to learn from his mistakes and kick out the bad habit. He knew now that he had to work hard to give you a reason to trust him and maybe even in the long run be with him.

On the other hand, you had to go through this whole thing in order to not base your happiness on someone else. You could be happy on your own and open enough to be with someone that wasn’t Bucky.

For the next few months, to your surprise, Bucky had actually made an effort to keep in touch with you. It wasn’t overbearing and he minded your space as well as he could from a distance, given that he was still busy with the band and other duties that came with his status.

While at times he could be flirty, you learned it was part of his charm. Your friend wasn’t entirely thrilled when you’d admitted to her that you visited Bucky that night. You might’ve not shown it, but she knew how much his past actions affected you. Granted it did its job in teaching you a lesson and in return allowed you to be more confident and to not take anyone’s bullshit, she’d be damned if Bucky tried to pull another act like that around you again.

By now, you were comfortable enough with him to even tell him about random dates you’d gone on; none proving to be long-term, but it was nice to confide in someone else other than your best friend and get an opinion from a male perspective.

You weren’t going to lie, there was a part of you that still liked Bucky more than a friend, but you weren’t sure when it was okay to willingly go all in again with him. Sure, you’d given him another chance, but just how low could people really go to get what they wanted? Some people could just be really manipulative, and you weren’t wanting to ruin what you’ve both rebuilt for yourselves. Either way, you’d be happy with him in your life even as a friend, which is how it could’ve gone if he’d been honest from the get-go.

The year was coming to a close and you’re at your job’s annual Christmas party. You’d managed to convince your friend to be your plus one, but she claimed she didn’t need bribery because your company always ordered outstanding catering and who in their right mind would turn down free food anyways?

Aside from pretending you were having a great time talking to your co-workers, most of which whom you barely spoke to at the office and as faux-friendly as they were tonight, you felt stupid for glancing at your phone every now and then hoping to get a message from Bucky. He’d been keeping you entertained the first half of the party until he just stopped responding.

Your friend had ditched you to take advantage of the open bar several minutes ago, so you were sitting at a table alone trying not to look pathetic. You started thinking of when an appropriate time would be to leave when the Market Manager of your job took the mic. Too late, you thought to yourself and decided to get comfortable in your seat and listened to what cheesy Holiday speech they had to give, but what you hadn’t expected was a surprise guest.

“What the hell?” You said to yourself as you watched Bucky, Steve and Sam shake hands with one of your bosses before settling into what would appear as an acoustic performance.

How’d they manage to get in contact with your job? Who gave them the in? Bucky knew what you did for a living, but you never stayed on that subject long enough to think much about it. Then your friend slides into the empty seat next to you, a drink in one hand and a knowingly smirk on her lips, one that suggests she was definitely in on this act. You didn’t realize how long you’d been staring at her with a stupid look of disbelief all over your face until your name is echoed throughout the speakers.

It snaps you out of your trance and you focus your attention to Bucky on stage, a huge smile on his face. All formalities set aside, he highlights you and your friendship before jumping into their new single, which was widely popular right now. Normally, you weren’t one to take compliments easily, not used to so much attention, but the whole world disappeared with Bucky.

Once their little set was over, the majority of your colleagues enjoyed the performance and asked for photos, to which the guys were more than happy to appease to. Your friend had managed to escape your clutches once more, this time abandoning you for the dessert table. You’re not alone for long as Bucky occupies the seat left open next to you. You look around your surroundings, hoping there aren’t any more surprises in store, and practically attack him with a big hug.

Bucky’s chuckle is muffled, his face buried in your hair, as he wraps his arms around you to return the gesture. When you pull away, you’re almost left speechless, but you’re dying to know how he managed to get here. He was technically still on tour and this was not one of the passing by cities.

“How?” You ask.

“Hi to you too,” he said with a cheeky grin, to which you playfully slap his arm, and he responds with your friend’s name. He explained how he’d wanted to see you and how much he had to grovel for your friend to trust him. She’d helped him arrange a meeting with your boss, who turned out to be a huge fan of The Avengers, and even sneak them inside the building all under your nose. She wasn’t easy to persuade, but if she was convinced enough to work with Bucky on anything then you knew this meant something more.

The initial notion of wanting to leave the party immediately vanished and you wanted nothing more than to just sit there in Bucky’s company all night. Steve and Sam greeted you and you never realized that this was actually the first time meeting them formally and not outside of a venue. They weren’t rockstars to you any more than you were just a fan to them. They were Bucky’s friends, of course he’d confined to them on his end as much as you did with yours.

At some point they had excused themselves to catch the last flight headed back to Brooklyn, but Bucky had decided to stay longer. When it was time to leave, you found out Bucky hadn’t planned long enough to where he would stay the night in your city. The original plan was to fly back home with the guys and pick up on the remainder of the tour. They had a few days off, but it was just a few days shy of ending, and he couldn’t wait that long to see you.

It’s funny how life works because this time you’re the one inviting him to your place. You weren’t going to blame it on the open bar or how late it was or the underlying tension that was surrounding you two, but one thing was certain, it was mutual, and you both weren’t going to deny the attraction any longer.

You’d missed the weight of Bucky’s body on yours more than you’d realized as your hands held his face, keeping his lips attached to yours. You could taste the remnants of the unfinished drink he’d abandoned at the coffee table on his tongue. Bucky’s hands hiked your leg over his waist to get you to lie flat on your couch.

You’re the first to attempt to remove clothing by popping open the buttons of his button-up shirt before completely ridding of the item leaving him in his thin undershirt. You feel his hands slide up from your hips along your back as they dig into the minimal space the arch of your back had created for him to slowly unzip the back of your dress. With your lips both still attached, you manage to sit up, your dress falling down and bunching at the waist in the process, exposing your breasts. He couldn’t have picked a more perfect time to see you in an outfit that would not work with a bra.

Bucky curses breathlessly when he pulls his lips away from yours for a quick breather, but in the process, he takes a peek at your half naked body. You can tell he’s just itching to touch you and you take the commanding lead and place his hands on you. The atmosphere grows thicker, him kneading your breasts, you smash your lips on his in a sloppy lock.

You push Bucky down on his end of the couch and manage to kick your loose dress all the way down your legs and off your body. Bucky’s hands travel down to the curve of your ass before he grabs a handful of flesh, causing you to moan into the kiss. Your hands rake through his styled hair, the product he used unstiffening and his hair falls limp in your grasps.

Bucky’s hands started to aid your hips in moving roughly against his clothed member, desperate to relieve some friction, and you internally blushed remembering how thick he was, how full it felt to have his cock stuffed inside of you. You didn’t remain celibate during the hiatus of your relationship, you both had urges, but Bucky had really ruined others that came after him.

Your lips drifted down Bucky’s body, kissing at the skin of his chest in the pattern following the swoop-line seam of the undershirt that he was still wearing. You skipped the expanse of his toned stomach, until you’re met with the small amount of skin that peeked between his bottoms and hem of his undershirt. You slightly lift the material up and place small pecks at his lower abdomen, which causes a low groan to rumble in Bucky’s throat.

Your fingers deftly unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants, with the zipper pulled apart, you’re marveling at the imprint of his hard cock, already twitching and staining his boxers. You manage to break your gaze and look up at Bucky, who is desperately pleading with you to proceed. Your eyes never leave his as you lower your head closer to his member, tongue darting out to the dark spot of his boxers, tasting the precum.

The contact causes him to squirm and lips form in a tight line. You pull down his pants and agonizingly peel off his boxers slowly, dragging it down to his thighs, just enough to expose him enough for you to work with before you wrap a hand around his length. Bucky’s upper body is supported by his bent elbows so he could watch you.

You kiss the tip of his leaking cock, a small string of his precum sticking to your lips when you pull back, to which you run your tongue over. Bucky’s head falls back just in time when your lips enclose the head, tongue twirling around the ridge and teasingly at the slit and loving the sound of his breath getting caught in his throat. You inch your mouth down his length and your vacant hand gets quick to work on what you’re not able to intake while the other runs up his exposed abdomen, your fingers curling in and lightly scratching down as it runs down to massage one of his thighs. You can feel the muscle in his thigh flex at your touch the more your head bobs up and down on him.

A plethora of curses spew from his mouth, but the rush of sucking his cock, the gurgling of your spit mixed with his precum and occasional choking noise when your throat contracts around him, is all you can hear from your perspective. When you part from his member, you’re breathing intensifies, desperate for more air to enter your system, eyes slightly watering, lips swollen, your hand lazily slathering the wetness all over him.

“You’re so good at that,” Bucky comments and he finally manages to pick his head back up to look at you. He reaches forward to swipe at the mess on the corner of your chin, but you’re hungry for more, and you move your head to the side to suck on his thumb, eyes closed as you hum at the taste of his skin and essence.

Your soft tongue running against the pad of his somewhat calloused thumb, it pops lightly when you release the digit, a small, devious smile on your lips as you scoot away to lie on the other end of the couch. He’s almost at aghast by this, but even back then you were just always full of surprises around him and he wasn’t going to deny the appeal of your sexual allure.

Bucky is quick to get to your side, completely riding himself off the rest of his clothes - the undershirt, pants and boxers - he had dressed to impress but right now nothing more than but overdressed. He gently parts your legs, kissing up your calves and thighs, until settles between them, you can feel his warm breath fanning against your scantily covered core.

Unlike last time, you’re not afraid to watch him and he sends you a knowingly wink, quickly ascending up to give you a sweet kiss, while his fingers slip inside your panties and between your lips. Your hips eagerly thrust upwards hoping his fingers slip in.

“Baby, we got all night,” he says cradling your face in his other hand. You let out a small whine, but regardless attempt to be patient. Bucky studies your face, mesmerized by every structure and unique feature, then what felt like an eternity, but in reality, was only a few seconds, he sinks a finger inside your wet pussy.

As soon as the gasp leaves your lips, his lips swoop in and tongue instantly dipping in search of yours. The heated kiss only heightens the sensation in the pit of your stomach, your hips losing control and every buck up into his hand, your clit rubs up against his palm, invigorating it. The curl of his finger, lightly probs at the right spot inside you, you uncontrollably squeal against his lips, with a hand against his chest you gently push his body away from yours.

“Oh my God! Fuck, Bucky…” you say with your head tilting back to the curve of the couch’s arm. You feel Bucky’s lips kiss and suck at your exposed neck as his fingers continue their handy work, the lewd noises causing your eyes to roll back.

His lips find their way next to your ear, gently nipping at it, and you could just drown at the sound of his husky breathing and filthy words. “Can I taste you?” He asks. You’re not sure why he was asking, you’d want nothing less. You nod almost instantaneously before allowing him to remove your panties.

Bucky’s hungry eyes remain fixated on your glistening core, “oh, I missed this pussy,” he comments before his tongue fondles the lips. He has a hand lying flat against one of your legs, pressed on the couch to keep them spread apart, the other blocked by his body. His routine contrasts his old with how his tongue moves in slow and calculated laps. His mouth was very talented, given whatever style he chose to play.

You’re tethering on an orgasm and Bucky wanted nothing more than to watch you come undone for him. Bucky’s fingers and tongue work in tandem and fast to help you reach a climax.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Bucky manages to ask in between, eyes peering up at you. You don’t actually answer because you can’t concentrate from the pleasure he’s bestowing and the impending release. “Good. I want you to cum. I want all this pussy has to give,” his voice hitting a different low, even his fucking voice was so sexy. Your hands clutch on fistfuls of the couch cushions when you feel the first wave of pleasure wash over your body, your hips stilled in place as Bucky laps up at your arousal.

“The sweetest thing ever,” Bucky mutters mostly to himself, but hearing that comment only feeds your ego, which never is a bad thing in an intimate setting. Your chest heaves up and down from the impact. Just as Bucky is about to crawl back up to parallel, you stop him with a foot at his chest. He grabs your small foot in his hand and blinks at your resistance.

“Sit back,” you command. He drops your foot and watches as your body maneuvers around to climb over his. He didn’t even realize his body had complied to your demand, absolutely hypnotized by you.

You lean in for a deep kiss, one that leaves his brain a mush, yours too almost that you have to steady yourself with one hand on the couch armrest. You reach a hand down between your bodies and grab a hold of his hard cock. Your fingers tracing along the vein before you start rubbing his head through your sensitive, wet folds. Bucky’s hands lay lightly on your hips, trying with all his might to not force you to take him all the way in. A large part of him liked this dominant side of you. There was so much about you he was dying to unearth.

“Baby, please…” he begins pleading as you barely press the tip of his cock just at your entrance before you slowly lower your body down to engulf his entire length. You sit still once you’re sure you’ve bottomed out, not noticing Bucky’s fingers digging into your hips, sure enough to leave crescent marks and tiny bruises.

Bucky’s face is buried in your neck, your cheek pressed against the top of his head, lost in the mop of dark hair. You feel his cock twitch inside of you causing your hips to ground on his. He was in so deep, you weren’t sure how long you were going to last in this position, but you’d be damned if you denied it.

You start with slow swivels before sliding back and forth on his cock. Bucky’s hands released their death grip from your hips, one travelled to the front to grope at your breasts while the other supported your body settling itself on the small of your back. Your hands set themselves on the back of the couch on either side of his head, using it as leverage to ground down harder on him.

“Mm, I missed fucking this big cock,” you lean down to whisper right in his ear, “you’re so deep, Bucky.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he spits out curse after curse at your dirty words. “You gonna cum on this big cock, hmm?” He asks. The question comes as a challenge and you weren’t ready to give up the ropes to him.

“Yeah, is this big cock gonna cum inside this tight pussy?” You counter the question, speeding up your gyrations until you start to feel the burn in your thighs and stomach begin to twist. He lets out a low, long growl, his eyes lulling shut and head falling back against the couch, ready to succumb to euphoria.

“No,” you say, suddenly ceasing all movements to pull at his hair. The sharp pain in his scalp causes his eyes to snap open and look up at you. “Keep your eyes on me,” you command much like how he did with you the first time. You watch him swallow the knot in his throat and give him a wicked smile before picking back up where you left off.

Your hands are sprawled on his sweaty chest as you bounce up and down his length. Bucky’s senses are on overdrive, the way your pussy naturally hugs his cock, walls squeezing occasionally, your breasts swaying right in front of him, your skin shining from the layer of sweat coating your body, and the look of immense pleasure written all over your face because of him.

“Baby, I’m gonna cum,” he says over and over as some form of warning, hoping you’re not far behind.

The way his face contorted in ecstasy, lips parted, sweat building up on his forehead, the tip of his cock stabbing at your sweet spot, you were about to cum too. His words become a muffled mess when you attempt to silence him with a bruising kiss just as you reach your high, pussy clenching tight around his cock milking him of everything he’s got. Each spurt of his hot cum that shoots inside you causes your hips to stutter in response. Bucky attempts to keep them at bay with a hand pressed against your back, keeping your body close to him and in the process also instilling his seed is rooted deep inside of you.

“God...damn,” Bucky says short of breath when your body lies limp against his. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, you haven’t attempted to move just yet as you both sat there with his cock still buried in. When you manage to sit up, you stare back at Bucky with tired eyes, but there’s a smile on both your faces. It only slightly falters at his next words.

“I love you,” he says earnestly. Thankfully your silence doesn’t bother him, “...you don’t have to say it back,” he adds, “I just wanted you to know. You’re so special,” he proclaims and your heart leaps at the very admission. You only nod for now but give him another reassuring smile because in time you knew you could allow yourself to love Bucky and be loved by him in return. It wasn’t a conventional meeting, but this was your life, not everyone else's.

When you finally manage to pull yourself off his cock, it slips out fluidly with a trail of his cum following in suit. You knew you’d curse yourself later on, but you’re both too tired to clean the mess right now. The pair of you settle into a lying position, facing one another, encased in each other’s arms. It’s a moment of bliss as you both just lie there, his eyes closed and a smile seemingly permanently etched on his face, only around you.

“Hey Bucky,” you pipe up breaking the silence. He hums in response, “I want to know something...” you start out with.

“Anything,” he says, eyes still closed, his hand running up and down your arm, an indicator that he’s present and listening.

“What happened between you two?” Curiosity getting the best of you once more, you’re hoping this doesn’t ruin the moment, but you had to know. What went wrong? Besides, if this was going to work, he was going to have to be honest.

“Uh, she saw something on my phone…” he said cautiously, “...that involved you.” Your eyes widen at that. It couldn’t have been the sex tape you hoped.

“Bucky, no!” You gasp, sitting up and just hoping he doesn’t confirm it.

“Relax!” He says pulling you back down with him, “She was psycho. She went through my texts and saw some of the photos we used to send to each other. She must’ve thought they were recent.” He explains like it was no big deal.

Your heart stops racing slightly, you’re a bit relieved that she didn’t go as far as posting any of the photos on the Internet. You knew you were risking it by sexting with Bucky, but what was that saying? Hell hath no fury…and in a blind rage, she lashed out only on Bucky, but if she was a psycho, who knows what else she might’ve found on Bucky’s phone.

“Bucky?” you figure you might as well know now.

“Yeah…”

“What did you do with that sex tape?” You’d been dying to know if it was safely stored away or if maybe he even still watched it or just deleted it.

A big toothy grin spreads across his lips, his pearly whites on full display as he laughs at the question before he reaches over to the table next to the couch, where his cell phone rested on.

“Want to make a sequel?” He asks suggestively with a smirk on his lips and waving his phone at you, to which you playfully attempt to snatch from his grasp. He’s too quick, but nonetheless he replaces the phone in its original spot before focusing his attention on you alone.

“You don’t think this is all weird?” He questions almost hesitantly while tracing the outline of your jaw delicately. You’re not thinking that at all. You’d both been through a lot during the last few years that the only thing that was normal now was what you both had.

You shake your head in response, too tired for words, and drowning in the blissful moment. Bucky nods before declaring, “good because you make so happy,” then ending the night with sweet kisses.

“Hey, it’s me. I know you’re busy at the studio today...” you start, cell phone pressed against your ear. You’re attempting to leave a voicemail to your boyfriend, who was expecting your arrival later that day, “...but I just wanted to assure you that this isn’t weird, and I can’t wait to see you...I love you, Bucky,” you finish up the message and stuff the device into your bag just in time to hear the voice of the airline staff making the pre-boarding announcements booming loudly from the speakers.

Now boarding Group B for flight #107 to JFK Airport...final destination Brooklyn, New York.

A/N: We’ve been in quarantine for so long, I don’t remember how airport announcements are like anymore and I was only in Brooklyn last Spring…RIP to the good times.

A happy ending was weird to write in the end and I actually don’t like this particular Bucky so it could’ve gone really bad, but I said to myself, no, not this time, I can do what the title says and let them be just that - happy. I too can be happy if you give this a like, reblog or comment! Thanks for reading!

#mrwinterr writes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #rockstar!bucky barnes #rockstar!bucky #rockstar!au #bucky barnes #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan fanfic #so happy

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leighistired · 4 years

Text

Out Loud

A Martin character study AO3 Link

“G’night mum, love you.”

“Make sure you put the trash out, don’t want it stinking up the house.”

At 12 it occurs to Martin, he can’t recall the last time his mother said “I love you” to him. She must have. He knows she loves him, so why can’t he remember her saying it? Was it before dad left? It can’t have been that long ago. He knows if he brings it up she’ll just tell him off for being silly so he just decides to not say it unless she says it first. She doesn’t say it.

“Look how nice our neighbor’s garden is,” she says instead. “If only we could have such a nice garden.”

“The neighbors hire a man-” Martin tries to explain. He had just done law maintenance over the weekend; he would have to bring up memory issues next time they saw a doctor.

“Aren’t you happy with how I provide for you?” She snaps. “Ever since your lousy father left us I have done my best even with my health and all you can talk about is getting a bloody gardener.”

“Sorry, mum,” he says. It’s better not to argue when she gets like this.

“Forget it. Just get me my tea.”

He goes and brews her a cup of Oolong tea. It’s far too bitter for his tastes but it’s all he buys when he does the shopping. Perhaps that was it, instead of saying she loved him she just provided for him.

Martin tells himself that until she gets too sick to work and begins needling him to get a job at 14. Suddenly he’s providing for her on top of school and everything else but that didn’t mean she didn’t love him. She was just sick and the medication she was on made her tired most of the time so it wasn’t like he could expect her to be excited to see him; especially not when he’s the one bringing it to her.

“Is soup the only thing you buy?” She asks one evening when he brings her dinner.

“You didn’t have soup last night,” he reminds her patiently after a long day of school and work.

“Oh, so you think I’m ungrateful? I am your mother! I gave birth to you! You should be happy to take care of me!”

“It would be nice if you acted like a mum for once!” Martin snaps back. He regrets it as soon as he says it and doesn’t wait to hear her response. He leaves the house and sits in the park near his house for a long time and cries. Of course she loves him. It must be so hard on her to be stuck at home all day with no one to talk to and there he went snapping at her. She’s asleep by the time he comes home and neither of them mentions it in the morning.

Martin doesn’t know what he expects when he starts to transition. He hadn’t even called it a transition at first, he just likes how he looks with short hair, baggy clothes, and a sports bra. His mother disagrees. There are days she won’t even look at him and when she does it’s usually even worse.

“You cut your hair again,” she mentions one morning over breakfast. “Just when you were starting to look like a girl.”

“Yup,” Martin replies tight-lipped. He had been thinking it over for a while and he’s slowly coming to terms with the fact that he isn’t a girl. The way she says it hits him sharply. If she was never going to say “I love you” to a daughter, why would she say it to a son? He doesn’t bother coming out to her properly because he can already see the disgust on her face when he gets a proper binder.

When she decides to move into a full-time care facility, it’s almost a relief. He feels foolish for expecting her to say it when she leaves. He feels even more foolish when he says it in goodbye. The receptionist gives him a sympathetic look when she doesn’t say it back but the receptionist probably assumes his mother has memory issues and forgot who he was. She doesn’t. Still, he appreciates the gesture.

Dating is nearly impossible for most of his life. It’s easiest to blame his busy schedule; he doesn’t even have time for friends outside of school. The fact that no one even asks him out isn’t something he wants to think about. After he drops out of school and his mother leaves, dating and friendship don’t get any easier. He can’t let anyone he works with get close enough or they’ll find out his real age and utter lack of qualifications. Online dating is also out of the question for similar reasons. If one of his coworkers saw him with the age 19 in his profile they would either know he wasn’t actually 25 or they would think he was a creep and he didn’t exactly feel comfortable lying about his age to potential dates. Meeting people organically isn’t the worst thing in the world but it’s difficult. He makes a few passing friends at a local trans support group but even then, he can’t get close to anyone without risking someone discovering his falsified CV.

He doesn’t have his first real boyfriend until he’s 23 years old. They meet at a Holloween party thrown by a mutual acquaintance and date for almost five months before Martin ruins it.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Dominick, I love you,” Martin says as he serves dinner.

“Oh, uh, it’s a little fast to say that, don’t you think?” Dominick had stammered awkwardly. Was it? It didn’t seem like it to Martin and even if it was, it was true. He loved Dominick.

“I-I don’t think so,” Martin replies nervously. Some distant part of himself starts to berate him for being so needy.

“It kind of is. Let’s just pretend you never said it and we’ll see how we feel in a few more months, ok?”

“You mean we’ll see how you feel,” Martin says a little bitterly.

“Why can’t you just relax and enjoy the holiday?”

Martin had sighed in resignation and picked at the rest of his plate. They broke up a week later because Dominick felt like they were “looking for different things.”

Martin doesn’t have another serious boyfriend after that. He goes on a few more dates over the years but nothing that lasts longer than five months. Nothing that lasts long enough to say “I love you.” In some deep dark part of him, he wonders if he was ever meant for love. His father hadn’t loved him enough to stay, his mother hadn’t said she loved him in over a decade, and he’s not even sure he was in love with Dominick. He gets crushes, sure, but he just throws himself into his work at the Magnus Institute instead.

Working in the library isn’t bad. He gets along with his coworkers well enough but he can never get close to them. Not close enough to love them as friends or be loved in return.

Then he gets transferred to the Archives.

Jonathan Sims is not the first asshole boss Martin has ever had. He doesn’t understand why Mr. Bouchard sent him down to work in the Archive in the first place and his first impression with his new boss is less than stellar when a dog follows him into the building. It doesn’t help that Jon is good-looking and every once in a while Martin catches glimpses of a version of the Archivist without a stick up his ass. Like when he spends Martin’s ice cream birthday talking about emulsifiers. If only he would be clearer about what he actually wants from Martin. No report or follow-up seems to be good enough, even with the help of Tim and Sasha.

Martin works hard for Jon’s approval. He doesn’t know why he wants the recognition but it’s either this or quit and he really, really can’t quit. So he spends three full days looking for every woman named Angela over fifty in Bexley only to be berated for actually talking to one of them and then he offers to look into a case about spiders that clearly upsets Jon only to get trapped in his flat by a zombie worm woman.

When he finally escapes, he takes a few worm corpses with him and he dumps them on Jon’s desk while he’s in the middle of a statement. Let Jon try and disprove that When he gives his own statement he makes special emphasis on reminding Jon how hard he worked to meet his exacting standards. He refuses to be yelled at for this.

Except Jon believes him. More than believes him, in fact. He offers Martin a place to stay. Of course that would be enough to ignite a crush in Martin.

As soon as they get to document storage Martin sits on the cot and begins to cry with exhaustion. He expects Jon to leave but again he surprises him.

“I-it’s alright, Martin,” he says awkwardly as he pats Martin’s shoulder. “You’ll be safe here and I’m certain Elias will respond promptly to my request for extra security.”

“Thanks,” Martin sniffs. He can’t remember the last time he cried in front of another person.

“Would...would you like me to stay until you fall asleep? If- if you think it will help.”

“Oh, er...no...I’ll be fine, thank you. You should be getting home, anyway. It’s Saturday, Jon.”

Martin blacks out as soon as Jon shuts the door to document storage. When he wakes up he finds his crush on Jon stubbornly still in place.

He can’t help himself after that. He starts taking special care of Jon in hopes of encouraging the kind man he saw that night into emerging. At the very least Jon doesn’t yell at him as much and he even thanks Martin for the tea he brings. It’s then that he notices other things about Jon, like how rattled he gets by certain statements and how he’ll often go an entire day without eating or drinking anything unless someone brings him something. That someone being Martin. He also notices how late Jon leaves, if he leaves at all.

It’s on one such night of Jon still being in his office at 11 o’clock that Martin knocks on Jon’s office door.

“Jon?” He calls gently.

“Hzzmt! Martin?” Jon responds, having been startled awake from dozing at his desk. “You should be asleep.”

“And you should be home.”

“I see your point,” Jon sighs. “I’ll finish up here and head home. Unless you need something?”

“Actually….I-I was thinking,” Martin beings. “Since I sort of kicked you off your cot...D’you want to come back to document storage with me? You know, get some sleep?”

“What?”

“Er...forget I-”

“The cot would be rather cramped with both of us,” Jon warns as he gets up from his desk. “If...if you’re sure you want me to join you.”

“Yeah...I thought you had work to do?”

“It can wait until morning, no use keeping you up longer than necessary.”

Martin only half regrets offering to share a bed with his crush. Jon was right, the only way to fit both of them on the cot is for both of them to sleep on their sides (or for Jon to sleep on top of Martin but even the thought has his face burning) and it’s difficult for him to fall asleep with Jon’s back pressed against his. It’s good to hear Jon fall asleep, though, and as time wears on it’s easier for Martin to goad Jon away from work to sleep a few hours.

The more of himself Jon reveals the harder Martin falls for him. Especially after Jon accuses him of being a ghost during the Prentiss attack. Even with the guilt Martin feels every time he looks at Jon mummified in bandages. That was Martin’s fault. If he had just paid more attention then he wouldn’t have lost Jon and Tim in the tunnels. He does everything he can to try and make up for it; despite Jon becoming more and more closed off by the day. Intellectually, Martin knows that Jon has gotten like that with everyone, but something deep down makes Martin feel like it’s his fault Jon’s gotten so cold. It doesn’t help that Jon seems to have gotten friendly with the policewoman investigating the murder of the previous Archivist. Tim even seems to think they’re having an affair which does wonders for Martin’s self-esteem. Jon wouldn’t be the first straight man Martin has ever had a crush on but Martin was pretty sure Jon wasn’t straight. Again, he wonders if he’s done something wrong to push Jon away.

After Jon stumbles out of his office covered in blood claiming to have had an accident with a bread knife Martin finds all the excuse he needs to regularly drag Jon to the canteen to make sure he eats something. The silences during those lunches are hard. They had eaten together before but now Jon wasn’t talking to him. The most Martin could get out of him were a few one-word answers. He tries not to think about how it reminds him of his mum.

“So,” he tries for the millionth time while Jon picks at his sandwich. “Did I tell you what happened while you were at physical therapy the other day?”

Jon doesn’t say anything but he looks up with a gaze that bores into Martin.

“Uh...A little girl came in alone with a statement, she must’ve only been eight years old,” Martin says. Jon looks at him with an expression that almost seems afraid. “Don’t worry, it recorded fine on digital. She walked right down into the Archive, walked up to my desk, and said ‘Excuse me. My name is Beatrice Walker and I’d like to make a statement about a supernatural occurrence.’ She sounded so grown up and she refused to leave until I had recorded her statement. Turns out her dad was using the library for research and she had just wandered off.”

“What was her statement about?” Jon asks to Martin’s surprise.

“Oh, a hamster with mysteriously changing spots.”

“Ah,” Jon replies thoughtfully. “Not much need for follow-up there, I suppose.”

“Not unless you really need me to track down the shop where her parents picked up the new hamster.”

He catches the briefest of smirks from Jon before the conversation dies again.

After that Jon’s coldness and paranoia comes out in the form of a screaming accusation over letters Jon found in the trash. Martin barely manages to make it to the bathroom before he bursts into tears after coming clean about his CV. Tim thankfully doesn’t check on him while he silently curses his taste in men. Jon doesn’t meet his eye for the next week in what he bitterly hopes is guilt. He does seem slightly more willing to talk with Martin at lunch, though.

Then Jon goes missing. After trying to get Martin and Tim to go home early because Jon was feeling under the weather; he disappears. Not before apparently bludgeoning someone with a pipe and isn’t that exactly what he and Tim need to see as soon as they get back from a two-week kidnapping by a spooky door monster?

With Sasha gone, Jon missing, and Melanie King being suddenly hired by Elias, whatever’s left of Martin’s relationship with Tim deteriorates. More so when Martin becomes the only one in the world to believe Jon could be innocent. It’s probably that that makes the police detective “investigating” Jon so actively hostile toward him. Apparently, people say he and Jon are “close” and that probably only means the lunch thing but he wants to imagine it’s something more. Like people are somehow picking up that Jon likes him back.

When Jon comes back to confront Elias it’s all Martin can think to do to fall back on his tea-making. He ducks into Jon’s office with a piping cup of the overly sweet tea he spent months perfecting to Jon’s taste and finds him with his face buried in his one non-bandaged hand.

“Jon?” He calls as gently as he can while he closes the door behind him. “I brought you some tea.”

It’s when Jon looks up that Martin notices the bloody mess down the front of his shirt.

“You’re hurt. Let me go get the first aid-”

“No!” Jon interrupts frantically. “Just...Could you just stay with me for a moment?”

Martin acquiesces and they sit side by side on the sofa in Jon’s office in silence until Jon starts sniffling into his tea. He offers Jon a hug and Jon all but dives into his chest to cry. It’s the saddest most broken thing Martin has ever heard and it’s all he can do not to pull Jon into his lap and curl around him protectively.

“Martin...I-I...I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “For everything. For Sasha and Prentiss and...and for the way I treated you. You didn’t….no one deserves that.”

“None of that was your fault and I sort of deserved it. I didn’t actually know what I was doing.”

“You didn’t deserve it,” Jon insists before going back to quietly crying into Martin’s jumper. Martin doesn’t respond. He can’t recall the last time someone’s apologized to him. At least not like that. He’d been told off most of his life for not doing things up to people’s standards. A few people over the years had told him he didn’t deserve it but Jon was the first person to apologize. No wonder Martin was falling in love with him.

Damn it.

Cuddling doesn’t become a regular occurrence for them by any means but Jon begins doing more to seek Martin out after that. They eat lunch together more often and Martin stays up late to talk to Jon while he’s abroad. It drives home how deeply buried into Martin’s heart Jon has become. Especially after he comes back after going missing for a month and has the audacity to joke about being moisturized by a clown mannequin for a month.

He wonders if Jon feels the same way. Sometimes Jon will smile shyly at him, and he can almost believe that Jon would be interested in a relationship if the world wasn’t ending. The last time they speak before the Unknowing they’re in document storage.

“Are you ready?” Jon asks as he shifts nervously.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Martin signs. He heard what happened to Melanie. He knows what’s likely to happen to him. Some small part of him is screaming to just tell Jon his feelings like it’s the climax of an action movie.

“Stay safe,” Jon says.

“Come back,” Martin replies. Jon offers him a hug. It’s no movie kiss but it allows Martin to hold Jon as close as possible. Jon himself is hanging off of Martin’s neck and it feels like a final goodbye.

Then Elias confirms what Martin has always suspected deep down. That his mother never loved him or if there was a time when she did, she stopped when his father left. Even after everything. After he spent years taking care of her. After he had to quit school to care for her. All she ever saw was his father. All his transition did was to remind her further of how much he looked like his father’s son. At least it was worth it. To distract Elias so Melanie could find evidence to arrest him.

Then Peter Lukas shows up and reveals that Elias planned to get arrested. Worse than that, he offers Martin a promotion of sorts.

Then they get the news from Yarmouth. Tim’s body is found in a charred heap, Daisy is missing, and Jon is dead in all but brain activity. At least Basira is physically alive.

Martin spends as much time as he can next to Jon. He’s used to loving someone who can’t love him back. Maybe this is all he’s destined for. Love unrequited. He talks to Jon’s dreaming corpse. Tells him about his day, reads him poetry, even a statement, but nothing draws Jon out of his coma.

Then his mother dies. He barely has the emotional strength to mourn her. Instead, he scatters her ashes and mourns his childhood lost to trying impossibly to earn her love.

After the Flesh attacks, Martin makes a decision. He’ll join Lukas. It’ll probably lead to his death but what did that matter? His mother was gone and didn’t care about him anyway. Tim and Sasha were gone. Jon was basically gone. Basira and Melanie were the only people left that he vaguely cared about and by doing this he could at least protect them.

He visits Jon one last time in the hospital. He’s still covered in wires and his eyes still flit around violently behind his lids as Martin sits down next to him and takes his hand.

“Hey Jon,” he says quietly. “I...This is the last time I’m going to see you...Probably ever. I know, I know old dramatic Martin surely he’s exaggerating. I’m not. The Institute is in danger and...I have a way to keep Melanie and Basira a little safer, so I’m doing it. I just came by one last time to say...Jon, I...I love you. Goodbye.”

He gets up and presses a kiss on a part of Jon’s forehead not covered in wires before leaving. It’s alright that he doesn’t say it back. No one ever says it back to Martin.

When Jon wakes up everything becomes that much harder. Suddenly he had a reason to live and the way Jon pursues him makes him almost believe...No, even completing the thought would be dangerous for all of them. Jon trusts him enough not to be constantly badgering and that makes it worse. When Jon is there the Lonely makes Martin resent his presence and when Jon’s gone Martin resents his absence.

The final, most excruciating pain is when Jon comes after him in the Lonely. He’s excepted his fate in the chilling numbness of the Lonely. Maybe that’s why he says it. The certain, inevitable rejection would be numbed utterly. So he says it.

“I really loved you, you know?”

And Jon looks broken. Even after he rips Peter’s statement from him. Even when he reaches for Martin’s face with hands that seem far too warm and makes him See. Knowing Jon loves him isn’t like “knowing” his mother loves him. Instead of a lie born in Martin’s mind to stamp down the fear of rejection, it’s a reality pouring from Jon’s mind mingled with Jon’s fears of rejection.

Jon’s hands still feel too warm compared to the icy chill of the Lonely as he leads Martin out. Still, he refuses to let go all the way through the tunnels, the Institute, talking to Basira, packing at each other’s flats, and on to the train. The way to Daisy’s safe house feels like a blur and when they finally arrive it’s all Martin can do to remember to take off his binder before collapsing into bed with Jon’s warm arms around him.

He wakes to Jon’s quiet crying. The awful, stifled thing that breaks Martin’s heart.

“Jon,” he whispers.

“Martin? Did I wake you? I’m sorry, I’ll-”

“It’s alright, Jon,” he assures as he swaps their positions so Jon is tucked firmly against him. Jon makes another broken noise and Martin can’t stop himself from crying, too.

“I-I’m here, Martin. You aren’t on your own,” Jon soothes and Martin almost has to laugh. They lay crying and comforting each other until they both fall back asleep.

When they wake up properly they take stock of the safe house’s pantry and make a list of things to pick up in the village after breakfast. Martin gives in to the temptation to buy a new notebook to try and write poetry in. They have enough canned food to survive to the next ice age so they pick up perishable items like milk, bread, butter, and eggs. Jon also picks up fresh peaches and a box of Martin’s preferred tea. It’s easy to pretend like they going on a normal shopping trip as they walk up and down the aisles to check things off their list.

They return to the cabin and settle in. Martin sits on the sofa and tries to write out a poem while Jon tries to read a book from Daisy’s personal collection. After a while, Martin beings to feel Jon’s gaze on him.

“Is there something on my face?” He tries casually as he’s met with an expression he’s never been on the receiving end of.

“I was just thinking about how much I love you,” Jon sighs. Martin can’t stop the noise that comes out of him. All his life trying to earn love and Jon just says it while Martin’s thinking of a synonym for ‘yellow.’

“I-I don’t expect you to reciprocate,” Jon says quickly, his soft expression suddenly turning worried.

“But I do.��

“Oh…Oh!”

“Yeah.”

Jon starts giggling and it’s impossible for Martin not to follow suit until happy tears stream down both of their faces.

#the magnus archives #martin blackwood #jonmartin #jonathan sims #I wrote a fic #this was supposed to be posted on valentines day

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niqhtlord01 · 4 years

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Humans are weird: Space Shanty’s

( Don’t forget to come see my on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord ) Extract from “The Tides of the Void by Flent Litel” They say when you do something you enjoy enough times the feelings joy you once held for it begin to fade away bit by bit.

When I first heard this statement I scoffed at the notion.

How could I ever grow tired of the feeling of space travel? I thought to myself.

My people had dreamt of reaching the stars for generations and after our first hyper reactor core was able to reach speeds faster than light my people finally could obtain our dreams as we spread across not just our own system, but the systems and star clusters that had been far beyond our reach for generations.

I remember the excitement, the thrill, as I boarded my first posting aboard a human freighter ship bound for stars beyond. The rush I got from our take off was something I had never felt before and had no comparison to. It was a feeling I never wanted to go away.

Yet, as the years went on and I visited countless more worlds transporting cargo the old warning started to come true.

The rush...the thrill...the excitment....it all began to slowly fade away.

The sensation of lift off now was as common to me as if I were riding an elevator.

This went on for years as I transferred ship to ship until I found myself aboard the “Flying Scotsman”.

I was making my way to the cafeteria for lunch when I heard the strangest of sounds coming from the hall. It sounded like several dozen voices speaking at the same time but with different tones.

As I entered the cafeteria I saw a cluster of crew members, alien and human, gathered around someone. It was a red haired human male and judging by his uniform he was an engineer on the engine decks. He appeared to be singing to the crowd and they in turn would reply a chorus or two or someone specific with a deep voice from the crowd would cut in.

I had heard humans singing a dozen or so times before and initially paid it no heed. Humans in my experience will start breaking out into song at any moment for no reason other than it amuses them.

It was only while I was waiting in line for food that I noted some of the engineers words and turned to listen.

Though we set sail to planets far away, whose names I can not ever say. We know not what awaits us there, save the thrill of adventure. Through gas clusters thick as night, our thrusters burn forever bright. To find that what we do not know, waiting for us in the unknown.

For skies of crystal and seas of gold, what wonders do those worlds hold. So now I shall wait no more, adventure has come and taken me hold.

On board now hurry lads, we won’t wait a second more. Our destiny now unfolds, and onward we shall ever go!

The gathering continued to grow as the crew sang along, becoming ever rowdier. I saw some officers come over and I expected them to break up the gathering they instead sat down and joined in with deeper voices.

Sitting there I sat and listened to them sing. The red haired human seemed to have as many songs and tales as he did skin freckles on his face, each one more rousing than the last until the entire hall was in song. Every face I looked upon was filled with an mixture of expressions of joy and melancholy.

I myself did not know the words but I did begin to hum along to their tunes after a few songs if I do say so. I’ve never had much of a singing voice but what can I say; I was swept up in the moment.

After the crowds finally dispersed and set back off to their stations the red haired human walked by me and I pulled him aside. Something had been bothering me since the moment I saw him and I felt he was the only one who had the answer.

“You have worked here longer than me, have you not?” I asked him

“Aye I have lad.” He replied, patting his chest as if it was a badge of honor. “This has been my home for some thirteen years.”

“How do you do it?” I waved my arms around the cafeteria.

“Well, it takes years of practice to gather all those songs and quite a few bar brawls as well.” The engineer rolled up a sleeve and showed a deep scar that ran the length of his arm from shoulder to wrist. “I earned this when I tried to get a Hive merchant sing “Sons of sun on sunny isles; turns out they aren’t one for tongue twisters.”

I shook my head. “No, not the singing.” I waved my arms again.

“How do you stay so full of vigor and excitement? Has it not dulled for you as well?”

The human flashed a soft grin and scratched his upper lip. He looked at me as and in his eyes I sometimes imagine that I saw a reflection of his own past when he looked upon me.

“It’s true,” he began as he sat next to me, “there are days when the monotony feels like you’re trapped reliving the same day over and over and over.”

“But for every dozen days you feel like you’re trapped there’s also the days when something beyond your wildest imagination will happen.”

His grin grew into a smile as he patted my shoulder.

“Maybe you’ll be off loading a crate when suddenly your ship gets attacked by pirates, or maybe you’ll make a jump and then come back to real space in the middle of a herd of space flappers sucking down gas in a nebula.”

“But those wonderous moment are so few and far between.” I said, my dread returning to me.

The Engineer laughed and patted my back even harder this time and shook my shoulder.

“That’s why you gotta sing about them lad!”

“Sing them?”

“Exactly! Then you can live them every day!”

“I am afraid I don’t know much of singing.” I said sheepishly.

“Now that just won’t do!”

He grabbed my by the shoulders and hoisted me to my feet.

“A sailor who can’t sing is like a car without tires ladie!”

After that he walked with me down the halls telling me all the songs he was going to teach me and in that moment I felt that flare for adventure coming back to me once more.

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #scifi #story #sea shanties

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theanimeview · 4 years

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WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT SKATE-LEADING☆STARS (Spoilers)

By: Peggy Sue Wood | @peggyseditorial

I have said it before, and I will say it many more times--of that I am sure. I used to be a competitive figure skater. It was a long time ago, I had stop in high school due to several consecutive head injuries but I still love and follow the sport (I also still skate, just not competitively).

When Yuri!!! on Ice was out, I loved it because it showed a lot of the cultural parts of skating. The travel, the personality types (in some cases, though not as much), the publicity, the news coverage, etc. We had cameos of famous skaters, we got to see competitions in a pretty realistic way, costuming, the dance and/or gymnastics that skaters must do on and off the ice, and so much more! (I could probably nerd about all the easter eggs and everything else all day long.) The skating in Yuri!!! on Ice is good too. The sounds are near perfect and the movements, though a bit stiff due to the use of CGI, are accurate.

THAT ASIDE I think Skate-Leading☆Stars is better. In regards to the culture of skaters, SL☆S falls way short but that’s alright. After all, this is a sports anime set in a high school where sports is an all consuming entity and reality takes a back seat to guys with eccentric hair colors. The skating is what's important here and OH LET ME TELL YOU it is near perfect.

Let’s look at this:

This is our MC, Kensei Maeshima, doing a triple axel (I think they called it a quadruple in the anime which would mean 4 spins but I counted 3 so I’m calling it a triple for now). It’s the only jump that takes off going forward in skating and is one of the most difficult jumps. All of the movement here is accurate--from the way he jumps up and straightens his legs as soon as possible with arms tucked in to help the spin, to the way he lands with a slight bend of the knee, curving around and throwing out the arms for balance (and flare).

It’s gorgeous. And it continues. When we see Kensei practicing, we get these shots:

A Sit Spin ^

Crossovers ^

And a Salchow ^ (I think it is Salchow, but if could be a Lutz--the uncertainty comes from me finding it difficult to decipher which edge he’s on before jumping).

ALL OF THESE are beautifully animated and correct--from the way he pulls his arms in quickly and straightens his legs before bending for the landing again to the way he moves after landing.

Crossovers are especially good as they help build momentum quickly before jumps, allowing a skater to travel more during their jump.

And when he falls, you see something else that they train you for in skating--how to fall. It’s literally the first thing I was taught when I began taking lessons. Let me explain--in the gif above where he falls coming out of the Salchow, we see this:

He landed on the correct foot, but was still coming out of the last half of his last turn. His other foot, which is meant to swing out, around, and behind him, before guiding the glide out of said jump, hits the ice at an angle as he lands thus causing most of the ice shaving we see happening to the top layer of ice as his other foot slides out from under him.

Now, if your feet went out from under you--the first thing that you might do automatically is go to your knees or hands to protect your fall. In skating, it’s a bit different. If you fall, your aim is to quickly move to try and let your butt or thighs take the hit while trying to avoid joints (knees, elbows, and wrists) and head injuries. What does Kensei do? He quickly turns to land on his butt first:

His hand skims the ice, but he moves it up, and off the ice as he bounces:

He then turns during the bounce, aiming to land on his thighs (less painful in my experience, and less risk of a tailbone or head injury as you continue to bounce and slide on the ice). His arm extends outward to avoid hitting his elbow directly on the ice with the weight of his upper body against it, while moving the arm up, placing his bicep closer to the head (which will help prevent his head from smacking against the ice):

Finally, he stops sliding and has, officially, “landed” his fall:

Note how the head is tucked in, resting a bit on the bicep, his elbow is not being leaned against (or broken after this fall) since it is laying flat, and how he is on his side? Yeah. That’s a pretty great fall.

You’d be a little scratched up after that if the ice was rough and since he wasn’t wearing a jacket/gloves--but you’d probably avoid bruising or any severe injuries. The reason for the fall was probably a combination of the scratched up ice (which he credits), being out of practice, and his need for more muscle training. Still, AWESOME. He’s doing really well for being as out of practice as he is.

BUT WHAT ABOUT THE STORY??

Okay--Now that I’ve nerded out about the skating I’ll talk about the larger story.

Kensei is hated by his current team. It reminds me a lot of the hate that was given towards Ren Mihashi in Big Windup! prior to transferring schools.

Kensei is obviously very talented--I mean, not everyone can come back from being off the ice FOR YEARS and do jumps like that without seriously hurting themselves and falling all over the place. It’s not like riding a bike--it’s more like highly skilled dancing... on blades... on a very slippery surface where you are likely to seriously break something. His team hates him for some reason, and act like he’s not a team player or something but he doesn’t come off that way. Perhaps a bit overly confident for their liking, but he clearly has the skills to back it up and we have proof that he can play on a team since we’re shown him playing basketball in Episode 1 and told that he’s played on and been scouted by a number of other teams at the school.

If they dislike him because of him quitting for a while, I’d say they need to get over it because we learn in the first few minutes of the anime that before Kensei’s last competition he lost both his parents--who were professional ice-skaters--in a traumatic accident.

In the flashback we see of him as a child, the reference point for why so many of his current teammates seem to hate him, we see that Kensei doesn’t seem to have any friends. In fact, our antagonist Reo Shinozaki is the one seen surrounded by people and other kids. While Reo doesn’t seem to regard any of his peers as being friends or equals, it’s pretty clear that he is at least liked more by the other kids than Kensei who is alone.

As a teen, Kensei has made several friends outside of skating which we see in the current episodes but he still hasn’t made much headway with the other skaters--though at least one of the older kids, Yukimitsu Mochizuki, is nice to him. Some of the members are obviously mad at him for something and wish he wasn’t part of the team and maybe that’s because of his boisterous personality but more likely its due to something more petty, like jealousy or envy at Kensei’s skill or some sort of lack in communication. (Remember, they were all individual competitors going against each other at one point, and when your friends are also who you actively compete against it can get pretty ugly.)

That’s not to say Kensei is without flaws. As mentioned, he is overly confident at points and makes careless statements about a few of the other members’ being of lower skill or caliber than him despite knowing that he is out of practice and that they take the sport very seriously. If I was to apply this to my own experience as a former skater, it may be like when I had a falling out with many of my skating friends after I had to stop competing and no longer attended lessons. Many of them, particularly at our young age and level, couldn’t imagine giving up skating for any reason aside from losing life or a limb. Concussions or the after effects didn’t feel real to them (nor to me), and yet the pain I felt doing simple spins or moving quickly left me in pain and feeling like I had just slammed my head against the ice. Some felt like I was quitting just as the real competitions were getting started (entering adult competitions). One friend later told me that she felt like I had quit while I was ahead, “robbing” her of the chance to beat me, as though I would have know that. A few others said that it felt like I didn’t care about them or the sport anymore when I stopped coming to group lessons. Meanwhile, I felt like I was being abandoned and lost now that I couldn’t do the one thing that had consumed much of my free time and focus in life at that age... But it’s okay now, because I found anime. (JK--it all worked out as we got older and talked things through.)

I’m sure that as the series progresses, these combative issues within the team will work themselves out and I’m looking forward to it!

Comparatively, it feels a LOT like the Free! series (you remember that swimming anime we were all obsessed with?), though the focus on ice skating that we see within the series thus far (such as news stories, the number of clubs and schools that have ice skating clubs, youtube-videos, and other media) imply that ice skating is as prevalent there as basketball or volleyball. Which, as much as I’d love that to be true, is simply not the case. It’s fictionalized, obviously, and the story is really laying on the drama pretty thick from inter-team disharmony to a larger rivalry with our antagonist that said antagonist doesn’t even seem to register, think about, or give two hoots towards.

As for the rest of the fictional universe of this world... Uh. It’s a high school sports anime so what do you expect?

Simply put, it’s a standard story for this genre.

I have not yet read the manga--but I plan to immediately. 8/10 recommend streaming on Funimation.com, and 10/10 on animation (if only for the skating). The next episode comes out on the 10th, so now is a great time to catch up!

#Big Windup!#Free!#free! iwatobi swim club #skate-leading☆stars #skateleading stars #skateleadingstars #ice skating #figure skating #yuri!!! on ice #yuri on ice #yuri on ice!!!#group skating #review #analysis #funimation #SL☆S

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that-random-chaos-entity · 3 years

Note

How does your OC display love? What are some habits your OC has picked up?

Forgive me as this is a LONG post, but I felt it would be better to show, rather than tell, this one:

Words could not describe how awkward Perturabo felt being back in the Emperor's palace. It would have been bad enough if it were just his deadbeat father, a half-rotten corpse sitting in an overglorified golden life-support casket, ignoring him as per usual. But it wasn't just his father; so many of his brothers had come for this... ...this Sanguinala... ...in many ways it almost felt like the Heresy had never happened.

Vulcan, Corvus, Fulgrim, ROGAL FUCKING DORN, Magnus.... ...hell, even SANGUINIUS had come back from the dead. Raised by the same mysterious chaos entity that had turned Perturabo's world and soul inside out. Made him live his own life over and over again, through the eyes of the people around him, until he got the point. The people he impacted. The people he used, abused, and destroyed without a second thought. The people he...

...Perturabo shook his head, the physical action somehow dislodging the poisonous psychic tumor from his soul. Even though that parasite was long gone and the Eye of Terror no longer loomed over him, it had been feeding on his twisted spirit for so long that its blasted and withered hide still bled for it. Casting his self-destructive thoughts into the warp. This was a good thing (or so the Lanky Llama said). Though sometimes, when he started to brood and sulk, things would get... ...gummed up. He could shake any errant clots loose himself, but nobody helped the darkness bleed out of him like Nehetari.

And holy shit did he wish she were here right now. When she and her robotic people were around... ...the Lord of Iron actually felt like... ...himself. Or the version of himself that he wanted to be, anyway.

But no, "No xenos allowed at a family gathering," the Emperor had said. Not that it even would have mattered if they were; it was one of those weird weeks where the lanky llama disappeared on him and holed up in her room by herself. Something about a "Necrontyr biological cycle," that would, "likely make her act inappropriately," or "embarrass herself and him," but she would say no more on the matter.

Of course it would happen over the day when he needed--erm could have used her presence the most.

"Aren't you going to open your gifts, brother?"

Perturabo snapped out of his brooding to see Magnus looming beside him. It took him a second to process what he said, but when he did he scowled.

"Gifts Magnus? Really? Do think anyone here would ever give me a gift?"

"Excuse me! What am I, grox manure!?" there was no real irritation in Magnus's voice. He gestured to table in front of Perturabo, where three gifts sat that he could have SWORN were not there before. "And if you must know, you're the only brother here I saw fit to even GET a gift for."

"Aside from Sanguinius."

"Well... ...yeah..." the Crimson King shuffled his wings awkwardly. Both primarchs stole a glance at the MOUNTAIN of gifts that their brother had received. "...b-but he doesn't count."

Perturabo sighed. He didn't feel like feeling jealous of Sanguinius right now. Instead he grabbed the first package; it was obviously Magnus's gift. Whatever was in it was so warp-touched that it levitated a solid three feet off the table and changed size randomly. It turned out to be a small inter-dimensional rift that contained a book of arcane engineering, one that Perturabo had surprisingly not seen before. He thanked his brother; something that drew a surprised look from Magnus and a complimentary hug that Turbo awkwardly returned. The second gift was from Sanguinius, as it turned out, and when he opened the box he saw his own face, reflected in a simple yet elegant mirror. After a moment of wondering if this gift was actually meant for Fulgrim (clone fulgrim), he saw the inscription on the box lid which read, "to my big brother: it brings me joy to see happiness in your eyes now. I hope with this you can see it too."

Perturabo swore under his breath and slammed the box shut, furiously hoping that Magnus hadn't heard him sniffle just a tiny little bit. It was a moving gift to be sure, but after everything that had happened... ...somehow it just made the Lord of Iron feel like garbage. Well... ...more so than usual.

Thankfully, quick-thinking Magnus directed his brother's attention to the third gift. In fact, if he didn't know better, Perturabo would have sworn Magnus seemed even MORE excited for him to open this gift than his own.

"What is... ...is this from...?"

"MHMMM!" Magnus's enthusiasm was all-consuming, his grin audible in his tone. "She asked me come and pick it up from outside her door earlier this morning."

Perturabo's melancholy dissipated into a wave of curiosity. What sat before him was a perfect cube of blackstone, though if he knew anything about Nehetari, he knew that wasn't all there was to it.

Sure enough, when he picked it up, glyphs flashed along its side.

"Is... ...that..."

"Necrontyr," Perturabo murmured in deep concentration. "...and not just any form of Necrontyr; this is Ksakhemet Script."

"What?"

"Think of it as our high gothic. Except it's as if we had a high, HIGH gothic. Only the three Necrontyr kings and their families even knew how to speak this script, let alone how to read and write it. It is ancient, according to Nehetari... ...it's from a time even before the Necrontyr first started their galactic expansion."

Those statements alone were like a different language to Magnus, but his lust for ancient knowledge ignited like a blazing inferno. He would absolutely have to grill both Perturabo AND his xenos companion for more information once she was.... ...*ahem* no longer indesposed.

Perturabo turned the cube over and over in his hands, reading the ornate lettering as best he could. He'd only just started learning how to read Ksakhemet; he couldn't speak it properly because he lacked the extensive Necrontyr vocal range, but the lettering started to make sense the more he plied his fantastic mind.

"It is... ...a puzzle cube. I believe."

"D'AAWWW... How sweet...!"

Perturabo punched his brother in the shoulder, but it phased through his immaterial form.

"Shut your mouth!" He could already feel the heat creeping up his neck and he HATED it. Although he had to admit he was a little touched, if amused, that Nehetari had put together such a... ...thought-out gift.

And well-thought-out it was indeed! It became clear to the Lord of Iron that this wasn't just some slide and lock, physics based puzzle toy for mortal children. It was a custom-made testing tool designed to challenge his understanding of spacial compression, sub-atomic energy transfer, and even Necrontyr cultural theory. Each segment was challenging, unique, and soon he found himself absorbed. Magnus tagged along for the ride of course, and his respect for Nehetari grew each time he heard his brother growl in frustration, or give a small "...Ha! So that's it..."

"She has... ...quite the impressive mind. Especially for a xenos."

Perturabo grunted his affirmation. "...you don't know the half of it. She makes the Hrud look like a bunch of children." With a click the puzzle changed shape in his hands again, "...I would even say she has a mind similar to ours."

"...you don't say..."

"Hmph, she's DEFINITELY smarter than Dorn. I know that for sure."

Magnus chuckled. Of course she was.

The Lord of Iron didn't realize it immediately, but the puzzle cube was meant to serve another function, not just being an intriguing mental exercise. The more he fidgeted with it, the more time passed. Not by some technomantic power or magical means; he was just so absorbed in Nehetari's gift that he didn't notice his brothers packing up their gifts and starting to drift around and away from the throne room. Magnus, realizing he wouldn't be much help with this exercise, had taken notice of the custodes' Captain General (the one they call "kitten") and had begun to chat with him. Sanguinius was now at the Emperor's side, trying to pacify an impatient and belligerent Angron who just wanted to go celebrate Khornnuka with Lotara and Kharn. Corvus had dissapeared to... ...somewhere, and Vulkan was... ....had he somehow jackknifed himself into the psychic fireplace that the Emperor created!? Russ was laughing at him and drinking himself stupid (not that he had many IQ points to lose in the first place), but thankfully nobody was paying any attention to Turbo. Huh, who'd have thought; Perturabo was actually HAPPY that he was being ignored right now.

With a satisfying ding the cube shifted again, and to his surprise, glyphs flashed indicating that this was, in fact, the final challenge.

"Let's have it then. I'm ready..." the Lord of Iron grinned. He flicked the raised pad below the text and the final task scrolled across blackstone. Surprisingly, this time it was in High Gothic.

"...who is... ...my... ...favorite... ...human?"

He stared at the screen, dumbfounded. "Really? After all that, the last puzzle, is 'who's my favorite human?' Really?"

But wait... ...was the answer actually as easy as it appeared? Perturabo wanted to put his own name, but what if he was wrong? What if he wasn't her favorite human? He was hardly even "human" in the first place. Maybe she meant a true, normal human? But if this was supposed to be a present for him, why would she blatantly make him answer that her favorite human WASN'T him. What if...

"Hey nerd, the answer's obviously you."

Perturabo jumped to see Leman Russ passing him.

"What the-! Whe-how did you... ...you can't read!" Perturabo stammered. There was no way Leman just waltzed over here...

The Wolf Lord grinned, "Hey, ye nerds aren't the only ones who know how teh learn things. If I taught meself teh read Fenrisian runes, I can teach meself teh read some wolfin' High Gothic!"

"..."

"...that and I may or may not have used some of meh own psychic powers to read yer mind. You know, teh fill in teh blanks."

Considerably less impressed, Perturabo grumbled as he keyed the letters of his name into the cube. With another ding and a flash of green light, previously invisible cracks along the cube's surface began to glow and the cube began to shift one last time. When it finished, a tiny black tray was left in its place, revealing... ...a letter? And a pict?

"What's all this now?" Leman reached towards the tray.

Perturabo snatched it away, "Fuck off Russ! This is MY gift!"

"Oooh, is this from yer GIRLFRIEND!?"

"SHE'S NOT MY GIRLFRIEND!!"

"Hey fuck you Leman!" Oh boy, here comes Magnus, "Like you could ever understand the subtlety and genius that went into that puzzle box! Let him enjoy his gift in peace!"

"LeT HiM eNjOy HiS gIfT iN pEaCe!" Leman crooned. "Shut her trap and go back teh yer boyfriend, yeh big red canary."

Magnus puffed up in outrage and looked about ready to turn Leman inside out. When Perturabo noticed Sanguinius inbound, no doubt to dissolve the impending battle, he took his chance to dip out. And by "dip out" I mean grab the tray and its contents, and duck under the table. It would hide him for all of a second, but that would be as long as it would take him to read the letter.

Or it would have, if Leman hadn't, SOMEHOW, been able to reach the tray before him. He snatched up the letter, practically from between Perturabo's fingers, and with utter horror the Lord of Iron watched as his brother brandished the page, cleared his throat, and began to read:

"Perturabo..."

"FUCK YOU LEMAN THAT'S NOT YOURS!!" Magnus howled. Perturabo roared in fury. Both brothers made a mad lunge at the Wolf Lord but he dodged, shit-eating grin on his face as he continued reading.

"...Perturabo,

I'm sorry, but I...."

"....failed you?"

At the mention of the word "failed", Perturabo's onslaught faltered, as did Magnus's. Leman's grin died on his lips as he read the next line, his eyes widening for a moment before they squeezed shut. He then passed the letter back to Perturabo, mumbled a barely audible apology, turned, and without a word walked off.

"That's not what I... ...uh... ...expected?" Magnus muttered. "He looked like a kicked pup. What did that letter..."

Perturabo clutched the paper looking the most feral Magnus had ever seen him.

"...you know what, never mind. That letter's meant for you anyway." He added quickly. "I'll be in the library if you need me, brother."

And just like that, Perturabo was alone. Well, mostly; the Emperor was still there, but he was oddly quiet. Sanguinius was watching him too, but from a discreet distance.

The Lord of Iron backed up into the corner of the room, still riled up but looking a little less crazy. Once he was satisfied that NOBODY ELSE would attempt to confiscate his stuff, he finally began to read what Nehetari wrote for him.

"Perturabo,

I am sorry, but I failed you. You said you wanted your brothers' appreciation for a Sanguinala gift, but of all the ones I interviewed asking for an appreciative memory they have of you, the only ones who gave me a response were your brothers Magnus and Sanguinius. So instead I instigated a situation to make one (please reference the included image). If your brother's expressions are to be believed, then I believe they all enjoyed attacking your snow bunker. I certainly enjoyed helping you defend it.

May you have a somber and pleasant celebration,

The Mehlrose,

Nehetari of the Szarekhan Dynasty.

Heir to the Silent Throne."

...Perturabo couldn't believe it.

He's asked for that as a JOKE. He hadn't actually been serious. When she's approached him, asking what he wanted as a "Sanguinala gift," he'd been in the middle of a complicated programming script and had said that just to get the point across that he didn't want to be bothered.

Slowly, and with a shaking hand, he lifted the pict from the tray and turned it over.

And she was right. This shot must have been taken by one of her tunneling scarabs. Or maybe one of her guard as they were circling the perimeter, hurling snow and distracting Russ. But however it was taken, somehow it was able to get a perfect shot of every primarch, including himself and Nehetari, hurling fucking snow or getting completely dunked on, but every single one of them had varying degrees of stupid fucking grin on their faces. Even Corvus was smiling!

It struck him: had that been her plan all along?

Minutes passed, and finally the Emperor himself spoke up. "My son, you're shaking like a Dark Elder nightclub on a Tuesday."

Perturabo didn't hear him. It took everything he had just to hold the pict in his trembling hands.

Why? Why. Why would she bother. How did she... ...why, why, why WHY? HOW!? When did she even have the TIME to plan this out!? There was no way. And not for him. Why? Why for him? And ALL OF THEM. How could she have known they would ALL come?

"Brother, are you ok?"

Perturabo snapped out of the loop to see the Angel standing beside him with a hand on his shoulder. He hadn't realized just how loudly his two hearts had been thundering, how BADLY his whole body had been shaking, until he felt that steadying touch. Instinctively he tried to regain control over his mind and body, and stowed the pict away in his belt.

Sanguinius asked no questions; he simply nodded.

"I'm going to find her..." Perturabo's voice sounded like sandpaper. He could feel the tears rolling down his neck, but he ignored them. "...I don't care if she FUCKING KILLS me; I am going to find her. She has no right.... ...she had no right to... ...to..."

"...go ahead brother." Sanguinius's smile was warm with understanding.

Salvaging what little dignity he felt he had left, Perturabo straightened up, turned on his heel, and walked shakily out of the throne room. He disappeared into the darkness, leaving his father and his brothers to stare after him in wonder.

(Sorry this is such a long post, but I started writing it and just went to town. I wanted to SHOW, rather than just tell, the kinds of things Nehetari does for the individuals that are important to her)

@gracia-regina @ask-a-scheming-sorcerer @luwupercal

#perturabo #nehetari #sanguinius #magnus the red #the emperor of mankind #leman russ #if the emperor had a text to speech device #tts #tts universe #necrontyr princess #warhammer 40k #wh40k #more oc shenanigans #asks #fuukonomiko

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fragmentwitch · 4 years

Text

Pondering Eua and Re:Unanswered Questions

Me after finishing Gou:

I have several questions but I will spend most of this post trying to answer just one.

If a new rule allows Rika and Satoko to transfer to the same new fragment after dying, did she really keep track of which Rika since that was made only after the Chandelier death?

Is Gou Rika Matsuribayashi Rika? Or Chandelier Rika? If the Rika she gets in her happy ending isn't her actual original Rika, could this be the cost Eua might have vaguely warned about and not actually the loops bleeding into people's memories?

Is Satoko a piece of Lambdadelta along with Vier/LD3105/Mitsuyo and Eua a piece of Featherine's? And not actually Lambdatoko? Or is Ryukishi just trolling with having Eua babble nonsense (Thinking Emoji)

Where/when will the Logic Error occur?

I used to believe the error was in the original series going off the VERY VAGUE statement about the beginning and end being connected. Never has there ever been a perfectly airtight idea of what the real Logic Error is though, and the new mechanics shown by Gou really makes my brain hurt.

Are Hanyuu and Eua the same person? Are Eua and FEATHERINE the same person?

I continue to have hope Hanyuu doesn't get retconned into being a Big Bad Evil Demon Lady named Eua, despite mounting implications that suggest otherwise. I had originally been led to believe Hanyuu was a piece that was left to roam the game board by her Game Master: given that she's been part of the Hinamizawa world for 1k years I wondered for a bit if she was a Witch that somehow lost her memory. Kotohogushi is a bit dubious on the canonicity so I have to remind myself the translation about Hanyuu coming from a line of 'alien' like people transferring their consciousness from another dimension with a grain of salt.

But Eua looks so much like Featherine I've been rewatching her scenes lately and thinking... this line I really keep thinking about:

What did Eua mean by this? She phrases it like there is someone/something of a higher power than even herself.

In terms of ranking, Lambda described Aurora higher than Voyagers/Witches. She was one step below THE Creator (supposedly there is a typo where there is actually just One Creator and Aurora is merely a Witch with a comparable power to a creator but idk Japanese so cant verify this).

From the way she worded things, she isn't talking to Satoko exclusively: she's talking about Vier, LD3105, and Mitsuyo. Referencing that it took hundreds of millions of loops for Eua and Satoko to meet 'once more'. Surely this can't mean Rika's looping merely referring to Hanyuu and Satoko; that sort of looping sounds beyond 100 years' worth.

Could it be that Eua is a self-aware god piece referring to all the various Expies in the WTCverse as being the same person at the heart of things? Possibly... but let's remember that Featherine lost her memory when her device was damaged; Lambda described it as one severe enough to alter her memory, appearance, and personality. It happened once, and Featherine would likely be extremely guarded against letting it happen again. How it happened is one more mystery.

Back to Eua: when Satoko asks her to 'alter' the rules of the game, and she acts like it's no biggie, then this carries heavy implications of being the Game Master/Territory Lord. If she was merely a piece, no amount of self-awareness would make her capable of altering the actual rules on a whim would it?

There's also this line she spoke to Satoko in episode 18ish: "The horn that granted the cat power was damaged, but mine is not."

Note that she says horn singular. Not plural. She doesn't say "mine are not" and confirms Rika was given the looping ability by something external. Yet she doesn't assign it a name (Hanyuu), just refers to it as an object. Which might be a hint as to how Featherine might create piece Witches: her device might be a way of transferring loop power with more permanence that gets around a 'sponsorship' which can be withdrawn at the Witch's discretion.

Also recall that when Satoko touches the Oyashiro statue (whose arm is intact but has a hollow head), it shatters on the upper part and only one horn falls out onto the floor. Not a horseshoe shaped device like Featherine's. It's also black, while Eua's is all white. Yet Hanyuu's horns are still with one chunk missing and colored black. Eua also mentions she isn't supposed to even have a name, in fact, her meeting with Satoko seems almost by 'chance' (she speaks like Satoko summoned her to the fragment in this manner). Hanyuu's full real name is given in a chapter that is dubiously semi-canon, so Ryukishi might elect to leave it out of Gou, but her husband Riku Furude gave her the nickname 'Hanyuu'. (Which still contains the character for Feather)

These observations are making me consider the possibility that Hanyuu and Eua are separate personas of a singular entity: The smooth horn belongs to Eua while the broken one belongs to Hanyuu. Black and White; a contrast between the kind demon mother who feels Rika's pain and lived on the gameboard & the demon who relishes in tormenting humans, too above to be part of the gameboard herself.

So, that leads us to the million dollar question: who is the entity if we put both horns together? Do we get Featherine Augustus Aurora? Or the Oyashiro living in this reverse-world Hinamizawa and hiding inside the actual statue? (Seriously is there a corpse in there? Wtf)

Or are these two halves of a GM making a tug of war for control over the Higurashi Catbox via their loopers? Now THAT is a mindblower if true.

We got our answer that Takano forfeited her villain role before Gou actually began so that may explain why the legend of Oyashiro is told deceptively 'wrong', but how does one account for the unbroken statue with a removeable head... could we potentially get a fragment in Sotsu where Satoko doesn't break the arm off it as a child and thus it affects all the loops afterwards? Hmm.

Either way we haven't actually caught up to GOU chronologically speaking, so until Sotsu comes out, there's no way to tell for sure if Eua and Hanyuu are one and the same or if they are actually two halves of a whole. But I will be a happy camper if this crackpot theory turns out to be right. Usually I'm wrong though. Lol

But now I'll definitely see about cooking up a diagram or something if we can actually make a branching map of the different Rikas to figure out which one is Gou Rika.

#higurashi gou #featherine augustus aurora #higurashi #hanyuu furude #eua #eua (higurashi)#featherine #oyashiro sama #theories

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ldwritesstuff · 4 years

Text

SCP 6969SMP

you read that correctly, my inner SCP nerd saw an opportunity and decided to turn all of the Dream SMP into an SCP. I have never written something like this so please, go easy on me. Disclaimer: I do not own SCP in anyway shape or form. Other SCPs mentioned in this belong to their respective writers and not myself.

Item #: SCP 6969SMP Object Class: Keter Level 4: Secret Disruption Class: Ekhi Risk Level: Danger Special Containment Procedures: SCP 6969SMP is currently under heavy observation and a strict censorship guide to not allow any of its anomalous properties to be known to the general public. Until there is a way to remove it from the streaming platform Twitch permanently and a global spread of amnestics, Mobile Task Force Kappa-10 “Skynet”, is working around the clock to keep up the censorship of any information that could reveal the true nature of 6969 SMP.

Anytime the other instances of it go “live”, Skynet will monitor all who are live, both documenting canon and non-canon streams, and when donations are given, the money will be funneled back to the Foundation. Those who escape from the SCP will be apprehended and interrogated by the Foundation. Afterwards, they will be giving amnestics to think they were just on an ordinary live stream and sent on their way. The illusion created by the Foundation that it is an ordinary livestream event is backed up by the SCP as well. If any of the audience members discover the true properties of the SCP, they will be apprehended and given amnestics.

Any instances that escape the SCP are to be contained and questioned to learn more about the inner workings of the SCP. any electronic devices that could run Minecraft are to be kept away from the instances of a 5 meter radius.

Description: SCP 6969SMP is a Minecraft server that streams regularly on the streaming platform known as Twitch. It appears to be an ordinary stream about a Minecraft Server. This SCP was brought to the attention of the Foundation after suspicious of another Minecraft series, SMP Live, was exhibiting similar properties that has been noted on 6969SMP. Concerns were increased when minors were being transported into the SCP. The SCP has the properties of globally being spread and gathering a cult following to its story and regular doings during the live segments. So far, the SMP has hosted 33 members and many more guests. Audiences around the world can tune in to different members streams based on their tastes. The influence of the SCP can be passed through spoken word to spark curiosity from those who aren’t affected. The SCP is more potent with gaining viewers when the general population watches the streams. The members have been observed to be able to read and interact with their audiences through the Twitch chat. They have also been observed to acknowledge fanart. It appears that if it has anything to do with the SMP, the instances are aware of its existence.

What the Foundation later discovered through constant monitoring is that the members of the SMP are actually real people who had been pulled into the SMP. They appear as their block characters with their created Minecraft skins. But after the streams, it is unknown if they revert to a humanoid state or not. So far they act as if all is normal and they are simply streaming a Minecraft server and the scenarios they come up with, such as the plot or story that is happening currently. The members have been numbered as different instances of SCP 6969SMP However there have been times when the members broke character and tried to alert the audience of the true nature of the SCP. MTF “Skynet” has worked to censor these moments and document when these moments happen. Attempts to use D-Class personnel to get into the SMP have all failed. Further testing on how one gets invited into the SMP through any means is on going. Attempts to befriend any of the members to enter the SCP have been deemed unsuccessful. It is unknown where they go after a stream ends. Theories have been proposed that when their stream ends, they remain in a state of limbo or continue to run around on the server and live their lives. When a means of getting in the SCP are established, testing of what happens afterwards will be conducted.

There have been moments where some of the audience members have discovered the true nature of the SCP. Those who have discovered the true nature were apprehended, subsequently questioned and then given amnestics. Foundation personnel have attempted to make contact with the members through donations and through private chat on Twitch. Each attempt has been met with resistance as the SCP would shut down and remove researcher’s and D-Class messages. It has also been noted that when the server itself shuts down, one of the Instances, SCP 6969SMP-4, the member known as Callahan, would work to bring it back online. More studies on who SCP 6969SMP-4 is and their significance to the health of 6969SMP is ongoing.

Studies are ongoing as to how members are chosen. So far, it has been observed that if someone has a connection to 6969SMP-1, or commonly known as Dream, they will have a higher chance of being transported into the SCP itself. Research is looking into if 6969SMP-1 created the SCP and caused the anomalous properties from SMP Live to transfer over to 6969SMP. It is unclear the true nature of 6969SMP-1’s nature due to the fact that this instance does not stream, an anomaly within the anomaly. Further study on why this is yielded theories revolving around spoilers or removing attention from the other instances have been noted.

Some of the members of the SMP have disappeared from the server itself. Due to the careful monitoring, Foundation was able to pick up the members that have escaped and are now in Foundation custody. See Addendum 6969SMP.1 for the first instance of when one of the members escaped the SCP. Another unique case to be brought up is when 6969SMP-15, otherwise known as JSchlatt, joined and was subsequently removed and then brought back. It has been noted that when an instance appears in our world, they must be removed from any and all electronic objects in a field of sight for instances. See Addendum 6969SMP.3.

Guests have appeared with the SCP for a brief moment, such as a single stream, as publicity stunts. It is unclear if that was the idea of the members or ability of the members to bring on such guests or if that was the SCP itself. Further study is being conducted and monitoring if/when the next guest appears and if Foundation could use that to get an insight into the SCP itself. When a guest is ejected from the SCP, agents disguised as obscure internet news reporters are to intercept the guests and run a fake interview to get their statements on their experiences while in contact with the SCP. Reports have found that each time a guest is pulled into the SCP and ejected, the subjects have no recollection of anything that would give away the true nature of the SCP. they all believe that it was just another stream, much like the audiences.

There appears to be a somewhat cohesive storyline as observed by the Foundation. However, due to spontaneous meta, Foundation interference and members disappearing, the story has become somewhat muddled. Dedicated fans of the series have posted the storyline in detail on platforms such as Wikipedia, Youtube and TikTok to name a few. Anything posted that is based around the SCP is screened in case it manipulates the fan material. So far no documented instance of such a thing has been noted.

The instances of the SCP have been listed and numbered below.

Dream

Georgenotfound

Sapanp

Callahan

Alyssa

Awesamdude

Ponk

BadBoyHalo

Tommy

Tubbo

Fundy

Punz

Purpled

Wilbur

Schlatt

Skeppy

Eret

Jack Manifold

Niki

Quackity

Karl Jacons

HBomb

Technoblade

Antfrost

Philza

ConnorEatsPants

Captain Puffy

Ranboo

Foolish Gamers

Hannahxxrose

Charlie Slimecicle

Vikkstar

LazarBeam

Addendum 6969SMP. 1: The Foundation had noticed the absence of 6969SMP-5 after a few days. Agents were dispatched to the subject after a post on social media showed that she had manifested in our reality. Agents and Mobile Task Force were dispatched to [DATA EXPUNGED] to locate and apprehend the subject. Upon arrival the agents discovered the house to be abandoned. Further investigation, the instance was found in a room, in the corner with a book in hand. The desktop was on with the PC monitor showing the main menu to Minecraft. One of the agents noted that the game appeared to be glitching in and out.

The subject was taken into Foundation custody along with the PC and any other electronics connected. The journal that was confiscated from the subject depicted their time while inside the SCP. From further study, the Foundation discovered that real people were being pulled into the SCP. Researcher Dr. ██████ interviewed the subject after she was brought to Site-██ [Begin Log] Dr. ██████: hello, I would like to ask you some questions 6969SMP-5: where am I? Dr. ██████: You are in a safe interview room. Now then, can I ask about your experience with the Dream SMP? 6969SMP-5: How--How did I get out? It’s impossible. Dr. ██████: Can you elaborate. 6969SMP-5: No . . . I shouldn't be here. I can’t remember . . . . this isn’t right. Dr. ██████: Please, can you tell me what happened? 6969SMP-5: STOP, I can’t be here, I can’t be out here. None of this makes sense, i’ll get pulled back. The others, oh my god the others. No, you have to help them, they hardly know. Sometimes they know, but it makes us forget. YOU HAVE TO HELP. Dr. ██████: Please, you have to calm down. 6969SMP-5: No, no, you don’t get it. They were sucked in, the whole thing is a lie, it’s all a lie. You have to help them, anyone who goes in there--you have to help them [End Log] Subject would not answer questions and became distressed. The Foundation has set up a standard humanoid containment cell. Further interviews are pending. Update: any electronics were removed after the incident with 6969SMP-15. See Addendum 6969SMP.3.

Addendum 6969SMP.2: MTF alerted the site director when one of the instances of the SCP, 6969SMP-9, known to everyone as Tommyinnit, went live and a new member had appeared. A Youtuber known as Ninja had manifested in the server and took a tour with the instance. After the livestream, MTF had discovered that the subject had reappeared in our reality. Agents disguised as news reporters interviewed the subject. [Begin Log] Agent: we came here to ask you about the Dream SMP, can you tell us everything. Ninja: it was inevitable that I took a tour there. That was a great livestream. Agent: did anything out of the ordinary occur? Ninja: nothing really, it was just another livestream. I mean i do have a bit of a headache and some fuzzy spots at the beginning and end--wait, this won’t go in the article right? Agent: of course it won’t. So everything seemed normal? Ninja: yep, nothing out of the ordinary. That Tommy kid, he was kinda loud and that Dream guy was alright, he was pretty funny. Agent: Did any of them act differently? Say anything that seemed off? Ninja: I mean, they were with me, i’m pretty well known so of course they might be nervous. Wait--who are you interviewing for again? Agent: a small gamer blog, which thank you for your help in supporting with this interview. Ninja: of course, anytime [End Log] Further questions were met with a bit of resistance. Researchers later reported that the subject has no recollection of anything out of the ordinary. Subject is unaware of the anomalous properties of the SCP. More testing is required.

Addendum 6969SMP.3: A new instance appeared in the SMP. Close monitoring revealed that 6969SMP-15, known as JSchlatt, was not very welcome based on the behavior of 6969SMP-1. Later, 6969SMP-15 was banned from the SMP. MTF moved in when the subject manifested back in our world. An interview was conducted with Dr. ██████ that same day. [Begin Log] Dr. ██████: Mr. Schlatt, you interacted with the Dream SMP recently, can you tell us your experience? 6969SMP-15: look, i paid my taxes, why did your men nab me? Dr. ██████: We just want to know about your experience with the Dream SMP. 6969SMP-15: that stupid server? Why does it matter? Look, weird shit is going on there and you might as well drop it. Dr. ██████: Can you please elaborate? 6969SMP-15: you got cotton in your ears? Just leave it alone. You want to end up in there for good? I don’t know what I was thinking. Actually--I wasn’t thinking, it just pulled me in, through my computer screen, not exactly the greatest feeling. I don’t even know what I was doing, it all seemed so normal. But the second it spat me back out, i knew, i knew, that thing is haunted or cursed. Dr. ██████: So you weren’t aware you were in the SMP during your stay? 6969SMP-15: there you go genius--wait--I-- Dr. ██████: Schlatt, Schlatt, are you?--Call the site director, something’s happened. [End Log] Subject suddenly starts to become transparent. Glitching effects could be seen during this. Before the Doctor could do anything to intervene, the subject had fully disappeared. Sometime later, some of the other instances went live and 6969SMP-15 was among them, acting as if the interview from before did not occur. There was a computer in the room at the time and theories have been proposed that the subject was pulled back into the SCP using that computer. Personnel have now been alerted to keep their electronics that could house a version of the game Minecraft away from any instances in Foundation custody. If personnel are found to be breaking this rule, they will be severely punished.

Addendum 6969SMP.4: More guests have appeared on the SMP. Each time the livestreams ended, the guests were interviewed and all produced the same result as the first guest subject: unaware of any anomalies that occurred during the livestreams. The theory that they have a connection to 6969SMP-1 continues to be proven.

Addendum 6969SMP.5: Researchers noticed that certain instances had their siblings appear on the SMP. It is unclear how this is possible or if they are even real and not some fabrication of the SCP itself. More studies are being conducted and observations occurring to come to a conclusion.

Addendum 6969SMP.6: A new occurrence has recently developed. A new instance had appeared to have access to a gamemode in Minecraft called Creative Mode. This new instance of the SCP is named DreamXD, potentially related to 6969SMP-1 but is unclear. Its purpose from what is observed is that it upholds the rule of never allowing anyone to enter the digital dimension of Minecraft known as The End. Speculations on why The End are being proposed until something definitive is known.

Addendum 6969SMP.7: When the first canon deaths occurred, Site-██ prepared for the instances to be shot back out into our world. However, when that didn’t occur, it was assumed that when any of the instances died while in the SCP, they died in our reality as well. However, the appearance of the entity named Ghostbur, the ghost of 6969SMP-14 or Wilbur Soot, confirmed that the rules revolving around death were different from our reality. The reveal of an afterlife in the SMP raised a few questions if the other instances were actually dead and their spirits now haunt the SMP. Or another theory posed by Dr. █████ is that the afterlife is more a holding spot for those who lost their canon lives and that death and the so called afterlife, is all just another prop to their story. Until more lose their canon lives to record this phenomenon, it is up to speculation. Update: the revive book that has been brought up was tested with 6969SMP-1 and 6969SMP-9. This has brought more questions about the inner workings of the life and death cycle with this SCP.

Addendum 6969SMP.8: A development between SCP 5004-B and 6969SMP-20 revealed that there are times when the instances of 6969SMP can escape the confines of the SCP itself when it is under attack or the instances are under attack. In order to help keep up the containment of the SCP, researchers at Site-██ have created Twitter accounts for the members in order to keep up appearances. Straws were drawn to keep things fair, Researcher █████ still complained about being assigned to “the 16 year old angry british child”, their words.

Addendum 6969SMP.9: One researcher noted the similarities between Jumanji and this SCP. It has now become a running gag.

#dream smp #dsmp #scp foundation #mcyt #LD Writes

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spiritualgateway · 4 years

Text

The Next Wave

written by Steven Black:

We seem to be experiencing a boom of old conspiracy theories. Sometimes woven into a new coat, but at the core they are the same old black and white stories. Is it also true that all the conjecture, relativization, fake news and various conspiracy theories that are currently surfacing annoy the hell out of you? I have to be very careful about the sarcastic part of myself and therefore I keep myself from commenting. Not always, but mostly.

Whenever I open my FB Stream lately, I notice a real war being waged by the self-proclaimed awakened against the alleged sleeping sheep. One „have to know“ after the other is posted and „THE Truth About“ is announced – daily. I know this all too well.

Been there, done that, got the T-shirt.

Yes, I went through a phase myself where I believed a lot of bullshit or at least thought it was possible. It started in the late 90’s and ended in 2012, and during that time I probably inhaled every existing conspiracy theory and read all the authors who spread it with a fervor of conviction. Starting with David Icke, Jan van Helsing, Robin de Ruiter and countless others, up to Alex Jones. Hell, I myself have contributed to the spread of such stories. The subjects they dealt with back then were not really different from what they are today.

Me and many other people, we thought we were „awakened“ then, because we believed we could understand the world more and better, like everyone else. Critical comments were countered with „inform yourself properly“ and immediately some links of „alternative points of view“ were thrown behind, which confirmed our own statement. And one could be sure that other participants who took the same bubble would shout down the critic as „mainstream sleep sheep“. No matter what argument came up – it did not reach anyone. In this phase one is not accessible to criticism, one fends it off. But if the criticism is so valid that it cannot be negated, one still had the recourse to some whataboutism.

It was a time when it was all about „the rise“ and all the political or economic daily news was seen as „there is light coming into the darkness“. We knew that the „end of the matrix“ was near and that a worldwide recalibration of consciousness was coming. We thought of ourselves as light warriors, critics of the system, rebels for the good and enlighteners. Fervently inspired by the conviction that we had all taken the „red pill“ and would now be the only ones to see clearly, we wanted to wake up and enlighten „the sleeping sheep“. In doing so, we constantly reminded them that it was absolutely (!) necessary to do research, think for oneself and question everything! Only WE knew, all others were of course stupid, brainwashed or sleeping. We were the judges, jurors and executioners of the worldly realities – self-proclaimed world policemen and smartass activists. We alone knew how the rabbit had to hop and how it „should be right“.

Pffff. When I look back on it now, I can laugh about it heartily. God, what a wonderful mindfuck.

Yes, if we had done it like that.. If we had heeded this „winged advice“ that we had thrown at everyone, we would have taken it to heart ourselves. If we had questioned the sources we referred to and believed. Instead, our own thinking, research and questioning was limited to almost everything that came from alternative media and supported our views. Official facts, whether political, economic or otherwise, were „mainstream“ and thus fundamentally untrustworthy. It was all just propaganda … (yes no, that’s clear).

This made us susceptible to believe people and media that had either a political or other agenda. Starting with racist Jew haters, religiously dressed up ideologues, political muddle-heads, esoteric concepts without any grounding, up to „doomsday fanatics“.

But we had heard a call from the universe that the time had come for an expansion of consciousness. It felt like a kind of magical awakening. And I, as well as everyone else in that time who was like that, we were not the first. There have been recurring, rather small movements since the 1950s. But there was a really big, concentrated shift of consciousness in 1986, at the time of the so-called „Harmonic Convergence“. One can certainly call this the first great wave of lightworkers and truth seekers that the world has perceived.

They did not fare much better either. These people, too, had to rummage through various horror scenarios, actual and imagined injustices, as well as their own overflowing imagination. But the basic themes were the same as they still are today. They are power topics (power and powerlessness), money topics, resistance to living, dying and all kinds of heavy, undigested emotional burdens. At that time, all of this was going on a little more quietly, at least in the eyes of the public. These topics were only discussed in small forums on the early Internet.

And today?

Today, the „social media“ are full of them and various shit storms are spilling over into the media mainstream.

Today the exact same process is taking place, in a new wave of people who have come in the beginning of their own awakening process. Awakened can not be spoken of, it is a slow awakening and it usually takes years.

One „wakes up“ from years of unconscious dwelling within one’s own personality structure, which has usually become quite rigid. One gradually enters into a new process of self-discovery, where many things are simply thrown over, which were normal and acceptable until then. The sense behind this is a broadening of perspective and a restructuring of mental expression.

Yeah, right. They got a call from the universe.

And at first you are thrown into confusion and disorientation. You will also have the feeling of stumbling around in a seemingly endless labyrinth. Individually varying degrees of identity loss can occur, which additionally creates fear. Many things seem to make no sense anymore, you part with friends, views and previously held beliefs, while at the same time you have the feeling that you can no longer find a secure hold anywhere. A well known, often observable reaction to this is a devaluation of the human being, the body, the mind or the human identity itself. In the course of this process one stumbles from one conspiracy theory to the next, constantly stepping on a bullshit cookie and sometimes not knowing whether one is male or female.

Can you prevent this? No idea. Most probably not.

That doesn’t mean that everyone who gets into this process is clinging to conspiracy theories and thinking they are THE thing or the only and pure truth. But a lot of people do just that. In a time of great personal uncertainty, the one-dimensional black and white images of conspiracy theories seem to simulate an unpleasant but seemingly stable reality.

Basically, an essential scenario is happening here – your consciousness is being twisted through the wringer and a kind of battle is taking place inside you. A battle between your old consciousness and the new, unknown. The old consciousness knows only defense and projection, but the new one wants to reflect and express itself mainly through self-reflection.

This inner fight has nothing to do with any Rockefellers, Rothschilds, Bill Gates, vaccinations, cash bans, paedophile satanists, mind control or whatever. In reality, „the universe“ is fucking your old consciousness to break you open and dissolve old encrusted structures. And the first, basic reaction is mostly projection and defense.

Hiking through your own darkness

There is a spiritual metaphor that says: „The dark night of the soul. This term goes back to the Spanish Carmelite and mystic John of the Cross. It is a poem written in the 15th century – in prison. For John of the Cross it was about the mystical union of the soul with God. Nowadays this metaphor is used to describe the difficult period of a spiritual development process, where the human personality has to struggle with disorientation, depression and confusion. Its purpose is actually to achieve a continuous, increasing and lasting reconnection with one’s own soul consciousness. This is a time when many things that once seemed normal and safe for the human personality simply seem to break away. Where instead depressive states are experienced, where crises, insecurity and loss of orientation prevail.

I actually believe that we are all in some kind of global dark night – the entire human species, the entire human family. And, of course, that means a process that will last for several years and probably decades. We are going through personal and global, very individual crises and we are coming into contact with our own darkness. With many things that we have been carrying for a long time, but which we are very often simply not really aware of. And a whole lot of situations and emotions are being washed up inside of us, so that we have the opportunity to check if it still fits for us. Yes, in the end it is years of trials …

It takes a while to understand that expanding consciousness has little to do with any external enemies, but rather with what is going on inside and how to deal with it. Nevertheless, it is apparently unavoidable that you first shoot yourself on everything you find in the world of Scheixxe and what you judge to be „that shouldn’t be like that“. And so one wades for a while through all kinds of dirt, horror ideas, laments about injustice and deals with horror scenarios. Starting with worldwide mind control, up to some omnipotent enemies of mankind. As an antipole you read channelings or inform yourself about natural food.

Basically, projections are a defense mechanism of the psyche. The term projection describes the transfer and shifting of one or more inner psychological conflicts to other persons, groups of people, living beings or various objects of the outside world.

Relatively harmless projections are when we ascribe characteristics, deficiencies or problems to other people, which we ourselves carry openly or hidden within ourselves. A far more serious form of transference is when I believe that the whole world is conspiring against me (or humanity, the whole earth, health, freedom, morality, faith, etc.).

Whatever the case may be, when we project, we thus transfer our own issues, fears or worries, to other people, organizations or groups of people, so that we do not have to feel it with ourselves. And then link these fears to certain events or circumstances that we do not like, which is then considered „proof“. The point is – what we project and transfer to other people are either unrecognized, personal qualities or unprocessed, emotional problems from our past, which we transfer to the present. And often, both variants intermingle. Projection allows us to transfer self-experienced situations or predominant emotional states, in our own consciousness, that are perceived as unbearable, to ward off these emotions from ourselves by transferring them to x-any situation, people and organizations.

And this, whether we want it or not, is unavoidable in a real wake-up process.

We push away what is inside of us and project it onto politicians, Illuminati, cabal, deep state mind control or whatever. To explain to us why we have certain feelings or thoughts. In this way we can continue to fool ourselves that everything is okay with US – only with THOSE out there, there is something wrong with them.

Talmud: „We do not see the world as it is. We see the world as we are“.

You can of course now despise all this fear porn of various conspiracy theories and call it bullshit – which of course is a good 99% (in my opinion) of all conspiracy theories. But in the end, they seem to fulfill a need that is not quite visible on the surface.

When you get into such a wake-up process – process, mind you – your entire identity structure is „attacked“. All the things and experiences that we hid from ourselves and that we repressed will be flushed up from our inner self over time and our protective and defensive shields will become porous. Most of the time, we have buried them so deeply that we can no longer feel or perceive many things. Deep, formative experiences that reach far back into childhood. All our deep fears, the inner insecurity, the doubts or our real self-esteem will gradually creep to the surface and say hello. Everything that has been quietly there all along will suddenly start screaming very loudly inside us.

Conspiracy theories are theories, not facts. They are extremely simplified black-and-white images and, moreover, highly exaggerated descriptions of a seemingly alternative reality. Mixed and connected with actual, clearly criticizable, political, social or economic processes. Whereby, however, the really criticizable things are completely lost, because the context with which they are interpreted is completely far-fetched.

BUT …

Now, if a Xavier Naidoo in a video cries because allegedly thousands of children are being freed from an underground torture prison where they were abused as human lab rats to obtain an alleged super drug called Adrenochrome and you react emotionally to it, it is because this extremely shocking horror show is arguing with certain experiences of your own past. Maybe from a past life, maybe in this life – does not matter in the end.

But you can suddenly feel THAT. It breaks down your protective shields and your emotional numbness. You can feel this nameless horror inside you, what it must mean to be tortured, abused and trapped. Powerless, to be exposed innocently and helplessly to something. But at the moment you can’t realize that this might have something to do with yourself. And you do not want to feel all the unpleasant things that have to do with you personally. You do not want to feel your personal powerlessness, helplessness or fears. You want to get rid of that.

I’m not saying that conspiracy theories are good. But everyone has to go through his own processes, even if that means having to go through a nonsense of denial of reality. If you bought into it, then you have to go through it. Okay, whatever makes you descend into your own darkness is good.

Of course, there is no such underground bunker and no tortured children to produce adrenochromes. And of course, „St. Donald Trump“ has not freed anyone. This Q Anon story is completely free of meaning and serves nothing else but to secure Donald Trump’s re-election and keep his conservative voters happy. Apart from the fact that there is child trafficking, that there is organized sexual and also ritual abuse of children, there is no truth in the story itself.

These and other conspiracy theories, however, bring you in touch with your own feelings and emotions that are buried deep inside you. The stronger you react to it, the more outraged and angry your reaction is, the more emotional charge you have built up.

The dark and heavy energy, such formatted information, docks fundamentally to the inner parts of the person that are in pain, traumatized or disoriented. This inner pain is often so well hidden and suppressed, so great and unspeakable – because never processed or admitted by us that only a supermonstrous, absolutely malignant source can explain it, who must be behind it. This kind of milkmaid’s calculation, of an omnipotent conspiracy feeds and triggers the fragmented inner child within us, which then becomes angry and projects its hatred, its rage and despair onto the world.

What do you think it does to you when you wallow in assertions and views that the eternal sacrificial existence enshrines? What does it do to you when you think the world is in the iron grip of a global conspiracy, a supposed elite, with the aim of undermining moral principles and ultimately reducing humanity? If you believe that some malevolent aliens have allied themselves with various leaders or secret organizations to rule the earth? And you yourself are completely powerless in this?

Does it make life much more fun? Does it create meaning, love or harmony for yourself and more connection to the world? Does it produce improvements in your personal life? You will have to admit that this is not the case. On the contrary – you clearly feel worse. If you roll around in dirt, you don’t get cleaner, but naturally dirtier.

If you go through this phase, the day will come when you are „done with the world“. Where you feel so weakened, depressed and trapped in your own darkness that you will experience a kind of inner breakdown. You will approach a state where you give up. Which, as weird as this may sound, is a good thing. When your inner resistance and your defense strategies no longer work and collapse, there is only one way out – to work through your emotional burdens. In reality, this is not a breakdown, even if it feels that way – it is a breakthrough.

This is the moment when the real challenge begins and you are so „backed up“ that you are ready to face your own personal issues. And in the end it’s all about that and nothing else. It is about you, not about politics, economics, Illuminati, cabal, Donald Trump, Rothschilds, Soros, Bill Gates or Rockefeller. It is about you personally, in this process. How you feel with yourself, your body and your life.

The Rothschilds are not responsible for how you feel or whether you have too little money in your pocket. Donald Trump is not coming to save you, Germany or the world. God or the universe will not transport you to a light-filled 5 D world where you don’t have to feel all the pain anymore. George Soros is not to blame if you do not take responsibility for yourself. The pharmaceutical industry is not to blame if you are sick. The slaughterhouses are not to blame if you are meat. Reptilian shape-shifters have nothing to do with it if you don’t feel comfortable with yourself or your body. Illuminati or Kabale are not responsible if your relationship breaks down or you are no longer satisfied with it. No one is responsible for whether you can accept yourself, with all your apparent faults or inadequacies. No one, except ourselves …

All these are deeply personal issues and conflicts that should be looked at. No one will come to save you miraculously. You are the one you are waiting for. You are the one who can „save“ yourself.

It is about making new friends with yourself and life. It is about self-acceptance and self-acceptance, exactly as you are. And you will only achieve this if you really deal deeply with yourself. Everything else is just an attempt to avoid yourself. To avoid the pain, loneliness, loss, anger and many other conditions that have accumulated in you for years. And it takes a lot of courage to venture into a therapeutic reappraisal process and to face your personal stories mercilessly.

This is a very critical time when you are extremely vulnerable and unfortunately some people do not manage to take the necessary step and get stuck in the old stories. They get stuck in conspiracy theories and cling to them desperately. And bullet through one wave of outrage into the next. If you don’t do transformation work and don’t integrate all the unpleasant emotions into yourself, you can get stuck in it for a very long time.

I recommend to everyone who wants to hear it, an examination of the Inner Person Model. And I strongly recommend feeling work. Get professional help if you are in this process. You will find it very difficult to get through on your own and if so, you will have to spend much more time with it. So take care of yourself and your consciousness …

Man is basically not a prisoner of fate, Illuminati, Freemasons, aliens, etc., but of his own consciousness, which he does not care about. When you deal with your inner conflicts, your emotional nebulas and diffuse mental states, you regain clarity – above all clarity about yourself. If you are clear with yourself again, many strange convictions you had about x – any external processes will also be cleared. You will then realize that you don’t need conspiracy theories to criticize various processes or states in our society. There are enough factual, fact-based and also technically competent arguments for this.

For those of us who have been through it for a long time, for those who find it a bit annoying to see all this old stuff reappearing so massively in the social media. But we should remember that we once experienced a similar phase and had to go through it. No, of course these people are not stupid, even if a part of me has the perception that the concentrated stupidity seems to take over the power at the moment. They are merely in a process of transition and one can only wish them good luck and good luck with it. They are not the first and will not be the last. In fact, I believe that this will intensify.

I have a part of me that thinks it could save people from their own experience if they only had enough information. This part of me thinks he would abandon his tribe if he didn’t say anything about it. And so I sometimes make comments to some people when I feel it would make sense to correct the statement. Most of the time it doesn’t take 2 minutes of googling to find out the facts. Meanwhile I make such comments only once, sometimes even twice. But if I constantly get answers to them, which my 20 years younger self has known for a long time, because he himself answered criticism like this, then I stop.

Because the adult in me knows that it makes no further sense and the person has to go through this experience until the end. Once you are in it, there is no other way out than to go all the way through it. Then I just keep my mouth shut and sometimes I unfriend or put people on „sleep“. Especially those who share particularly annoying „alternative theories“. This is pure self-protection. I just try to keep some distance to the experiences of others that don’t fit (anymore) to mine.

It took me a lot of persuasion to make this part of me understand that it cannot protect or prevent anyone from their personal experience. And to feel all the sadness and regret, at the thought that in this process some will „fall under the table“ and may not be able to rise from there. This part of my personality has now understood that his tribe has to do its own personal, very individual work to come to terms with the situation and that this is entirely his responsibility. Or he will get stuck in his experience.

I am also aware that the term conspiracy theorist is considered offensive by many who are in it. Well, they should thank those people who, by mixing up thoroughly criticizable topics with phobias, paranoia, hysteria and pure fantasy, led to a huge accumulation of absurd theories that no clear-thinking person can take seriously. And no, the term conspiracist was not invented by the CIA to silence critics of the Kennedy assassination. It goes back to the Austrian-British philosopher Karl Popper, who coined the term conspiracy theory as early as 1948.

From where I stand today, conspiracy theories make no sense at all. They are packed with emotional dramas and personal imbalances, cause doubt, create fear and feed the hysterical inner child. Never have conspiracy theories led to anything constructive. They simply invite you to let your hatred, resistance, lack of empathy and inner drama queen out and let the proverbial sow run free. To understand this, just look through the commentary columns under some VT Post.

And it is not at all about the fact that there have been or are actual conspiracies throughout human history. But all the things that are manufactured and suspected about it today, so bizarre and excessive, can’t be put on any cow skin anymore. Conspiracies are by definition top secret – they are so secret that any fool with computer access can find them neatly listed on the Internet. Michael from Recklinghausen knows them all, maybe the CIA should hire him …

Makes totally sense, right?

But okay, it’s just basic personal issues that are transported in this way. Apparently, for some of us it is necessary to exaggerate things so much that we are capable of an emotional reaction. Because no matter which horror story is given for the best – it is always MY personal fear that is then triggered. My anxiety, my paranoia, my hysteria – all kinds of emotional instability that exists within myself is reflected.

And when you are in there, you believe that it is all real. That some reptiles rule the world, that George Soros is using refugees to destroy Christianity, that Angela Merkel, Barack Obama and white-vultures are still reptiles in human form, that the Corona crisis is a hoax, that it’s the pretext for establishing a dictatorship, that all the famous Hollywood actors or politicians are pedophiles and that Donald Trump is liberating Germany. That the Corona crisis would be the final wake-up call for the rise to 5D or would be used by the elite to initiate a system crash and abolish cash or put all of humanity under mind control … etc., etc., etc.

It’s like a huge buffet where you can eat according to your personal taste. You can buy into any of these narratives – but a real danger is that they will swallow and eat you.

Ironically, it doesn’t really matter if things actually have any truth to them. The only criterion is whether or not we believe the narrated things. And what we believe is in turn related to a certain kind of identity. If there is already a deep conviction in our identity structure that we are victims, helplessly exposed to things and life, then it is not very difficult to convince ourselves of a world in which ALL people are victims of a huge conspiracy.

We all know, the world can sometimes be a terrible, unfeeling and cold place. But it can also be a beautiful, uplifting place, full of beautiful people and experiences. Everything this world holds in store is always an expression of people, of dynamics and personal, national and global processes and the consequences of these. If you look at the world in general with a sober view, you can see what a long way we as humanity still have to go.

It is a war that is raging inside us and that reflects its expression on the outside. The war between all the unredeemed and burdensome emotional content, the mental beliefs built around it and the painful attempts to control it and keep it away from us – but which we always lose because the elaborate stories we tell ourselves about it to rationalize and explain the pain away collapse sooner or later and the pain comes back to us with all its force. We can’t run away from it, because we can’t run away from ourselves.

None of us can „save“ the world, but we can „save“ ourselves and do our inner processing work. Imagine that everyone would do this? In no time we would see a completely different world. But since we refuse most of it and think that we ourselves do not need it – it will probably take some time. Nevertheless, this is the path we must take.

Until next time same station …

DISCLAIMER: Nothing you read here is THE truth. It is my truth, my perception and how I see things – now, in this moment.

THE INFORMATION SPACE

#consciousness #conspiracy theory

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petri808 · 4 years

Text

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30-Epilogue

*TW: cutting, therapy, break down. a little longer then usual at 2500 words

The therapist greeted the couple as they walked in and sat down on the couch. “Thank you for allowing Natsu to sit in today, Lucy. I don’t want you to think of this as a couples counseling per se, because you’re still my primary client. But I feel that him being here to understand your struggles, as well as his, and being able to express them in a safe environment, will help in your healing process. And thank you Natsu for agreeing to this.”

He sat forward a bit, ready to engage. “Anything to help Lucy.”

“I’d like to start with your homework Lucy, has there been any progress in trying to write out your feelings? Remember, it’s okay if you’re still struggling with that, there’s no judgment here.”

“Not... really...” Lucy fidgeted with the hem of her sweatshirt. “Every time I try to, I-I get too... I start to cry, and the panic rises— I fail at it every single damn time and that makes me feel even worse.”

“You’re not failing. Let’s reword that to struggling and recognize that simply making an attempt is the first step, a very important one to be proud of.”

“Maybe I was just kidding myself all along about writing. Maybe it’s because I wasn’t any good in the first place. It was all in my head.” Lucy could see the frown on Natsu’s face from her words, but that’s how she feels now. There was a time she thought she was a decent writer, maybe not publishing quality yet, but she truly enjoyed it regardless and now, a blank page is all she could muster.

“Natsu,” the therapist directs her question to the man. “It seems you’re unhappy with her statement. Would you say that Lucy’s a good writer? Honest answer.”

“Yeah,” he shrugged, “I mean I’m no expert, but the stuff I’ve seen is pretty good. I definitely couldn’t pull them off.”

“Lucy would you call Natsu a liar?”

The blonde paused, annoyed and offended. She wanted to say yes, only because she didn’t want to agree, but then it wouldn’t be true. Natsu was giving his honest opinion and she couldn’t deny it. “No,” Lucy breathed out. “Look I get it. You’re trying to tell me it’s all in my head, right? It’s just the pain talking, and I’ll get better, and I’ll get back into writing just like before.” Anger had slowly begun to prickle the hairs on the back of her neck the longer she clung to the dissociation. “I-I’m not an idiot! I know this is all stupid shit in my brain! I just can’t stop it!”

“I’m sorry, I pushed you too hard, let’s go back a step here. No one is saying you’re an idiot. On the contrary, you’re very intelligent. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be recognizing that it’s all in your head, and that recognition is how the healing starts. My role, today with Natsu’s help, is to bring that to the forefront. Bring it out into the open, because sometimes hearing it out loud has a different effect on how we process the information.”

“I don’t get it...”

The woman sat back in her chair in thought for a brief second. “When we think about things just in our head, versus saying it out loud, it triggers different parts of our brain. What studies have found is that talking out loud stimulates... rational... erm, reality I guess is a better term. It becomes more real to us.”

“Huh.” So, what, Lucy rolled her eyes at the suggestion. True or not, she didn’t want to agree, because her mind was still in such a strong state of denial. “I still don’t accept it. It sounds stupid.” Maybe it was just her annoyance talking, but the therapist was getting on her nerves. Lucy knew the woman was just trying to help, but her irrational side didn’t want to deal with any of this. The pain sucked, but so did the treatment. She just wanted to stay in her room, in the dark, away from prying eyes. Surprisingly to Lucy, the therapist didn’t even flinch and the gleam in the woman’s eyes almost looked sadistic in that moment.

“Lucy, I know you know it’s not stupid. That’s just your mind imagining the wrong things, which is why you need to talk about it out loud, so you can hear yourself and how wrong it all sounds.”

Ugh! She was so tired of being told what she is, what she should be thinking, and the condescending tone she wrongly assumed from the therapist triggered an explosion. All the anger she felt about herself was transferred to the therapist in an instant. “I’m wrong?!” Lucy jumped to her feet, her anger crackling through. “No shit! Lady, I’m fucked up!! You want me to talk? Fine! I hate this! I hate everything! It’s all falling the fuck apart and I feel like I’ve been tied to the damn train tracks! Everything I’ve worked so hard for is slipping away! Three years of college being washed down the drain! How the fuck do I catch up now?! I’m so behind! AARRRGHH!!! I-I don’t even wanna get out of bed anymore! I hate myself— hate what I’ve become a-and that makes me even more fucking depressed! And my friends...” Lucy dropped back onto the couch as her shaking hands flew up to cover her face and the dam of tears finally broke loose in a cascade down her cheeks. She cried long, and deep for several minutes, chest heaving and inconsolable.

In that moment, Natsu sat frozen, his eyes swinging back and forth to the therapist and his girlfriend unsure of what to do. Should he move to comfort Lucy? The therapists inaction seemed to suggest the answer was no. It made him furious, yet... she was the professional... before he could make a decision, Lucy finally uncovered her face and look dead at her therapist. Almost forgetting him all together.

“My friends, seeing the looks on their faces...” Lucy dug her fingers into the fabric of her pants in an effort to ground her unraveling mind. “It hurts so fucking much! I must be getting on Levy’s nerves, she didn’t sign up to be my nurse, a-and Natsu, he’ll surely get tired of a basket-case of a girlfriend. I can’t blame him if he left me, I’d leave me too. It’s all just falling apart—” Her chest heaved in a heavy sigh. “I can’t see a way out anymore.”

Seeing the whites of Lucy’s knuckles the harder she clenched onto her leg and seeing the heavy breathing similar to that night in the ambulance. Natsu feared that Lucy was heading towards a panic attack. Wanting to reassure her, Natsu reacted this time and reached up from his seat, quickly grabbing her arm to gain her attention. “Lucy, I’m not—.”

But Lucy screamed and yanked her arm back, face grimacing in pain. “Tsss—Owww!!”

“leavi—” Natsu pulled back immediately. “Oh, shit! I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to! Did I grab you too hard?!” He didn’t think so, but based on her reaction, maybe he had.

“N-No,” she cradled her arm, turning to shield it from him. “You didn’t, I’m fine, it just caught me by surprise.” Lucy quickly brushed it off for fear of requiring an explanation. “Really. S-Sorry, I-I’m probably just too flustered.”

But that explanation didn’t satisfy Natsu. Lucy’s yelp was clearly pain related if buttressed by the fact she continued to hide it. “You’re lying to me,” he reached out, “I’m not mad, just please tell me the truth because it’s obvious there’s something wrong with your arm.”

“N-No, I’m not,” she tried to act like it was true. “See,” she waved it as if showing it was fine. “Nothing’s wrong...” till she accidentally hit it again and flinched, biting her lip just in time to stifle a scream. But she knew in an instant that she’d been caught.

His eyes and tone softened in an effort to lower her inhibitions. “Yes, there is.” Natsu took her arm and started to pull up on the sleeve of her sweater.

Lucy instinctively turned her head away. She didn’t want to see his reaction to the bandage around her arm. Even when he continued to speak, questioned what was underneath it, she answered in one worded responses without looking. But at his gasping sound, her eyes closed in shame. She could see what he saw all from behind her eyelids, all the horizontal cuts running across her left arm. The red, angry lines in varying stages of healing. She kept most of it grouped around the middle of her arm between the wrist and elbow crook. At first, she’d tried what that EMT had done, merely jabbing her arm with a pen or digging her nails into the skin. But it wasn’t enough, so she’d moved onto cutting. It had started out small, just a couple of lines were enough to silence the horrid voices in her head, but like a junky’s tolerance, Lucy had to keep cutting, more and more, deeper, just to feel the same numbing results.

“Is this what I think it is?” Natsu’s shaky voice questioned with moisture filling his eyes. “Oh, Lucy, why didn’t you tell me it was this bad.” Now he knew why she’d started wearing long sleeves even when the weather was warm.

“I’m sorry... I didn’t want anyone to know... but it was the only thing making the voices stop.”

Without another word, Natsu pulled a surprised Lucy into a tight hug, tears of his own spilling. “No, I’m sorry, it’s my fault this is happening to you. I should have dealt with Touka long ago. I should have protected you better. This is on me, but Lucy I’m never gonna let you go, I won’t ever leave you because of this. We’re gonna get through this together. I swear on my life, we’re gonna get through this together. Do you believe me?? Please, tell me you believe me?”

“I do...” she did. The man wore his heart on his sleeve. It was a trait Lucy found most endearing, so how could her heart not accept his words? They sat there in an embrace while time stood still, and a small measure of relief fell over her. It wasn’t much, but it was a glimmer of hope, an ember, and one she hadn’t felt in a long time. This man who’d caged her on that train and captured her heart, she could easily pin all of her pain onto him, but he could also be her salvation. His strong arms wrapped around her broken frame made the scary world fall away, to remind her how much more she yearned to stay within it.

Once he felt Lucy’s body relax, Natsu pulled back, wiping away her tears as well as his own. “Is this the only area?” He gestured at her arm without judgment. And when she nodded, he let out a sigh of relief.

Now that the moment was waning, the therapist who’d been waiting patiently and observing spoke up. She offered the anxiety medications again to Lucy and with Natsu’s gentle coaxing, the blonde finally agreed to it. It couldn’t hurt right? If they didn’t work, she’ll just stop taking them. She didn’t want to see the anguish in Natsu’s eyes anymore, especially now that she realized how much he was internalizing and struggling alone with. He was in just as much pain as she was, so it was time they both do what they could to heal, together.

As they were about to leave, Natsu paused and questioned the doctor. “I have a question. I just realized, even though today was a big episode... Lucy didn’t have a panic attack. Why is that?”

The blonde looked at her boyfriend before her eyes landed on the therapist with an expectancy of an answer. She hadn’t realized that either. Shouldn’t her outburst have triggered one?

“I’m glad you asked,” the woman smiled. “Panic attacks are often triggered by suppression. When you’re trying to hold in your emotions, refusing to let it go, and not show it, but today Lucy let it out. She didn’t hold back so there was no need for her body to react physiologically.” She reached out and placed a gentle hand on Lucy’s shoulder. “Sometimes a good cry and scream goes a long way. Please remember that.”

It was quiet on the taxi ride back to Lucy’s apartment. Not an uncomfortable silence, but maybe just enough had been said in the hour long therapy session that they both still needed time to process it all. Despite her breakthrough, she knew it was still a long battle ahead. The poor coping skills she’d latched onto now needed to be reversed, and frankly she didn’t know if she could do it alone. Of course, she could ask Levy... and the woman did deserve to hear the truth going on... but Lucy really didn’t want to put that kind of pressure on her best friend. Levy had done so much for her already and as much as she appreciated it, it also contributed to her emotional pain. She glanced down at her hand held so tightly by Natsu and wondered... no... The man was struggling as well, so to add hers into his mix, is that really fair? But by that same token, their pain was also a shared one. If there was anything to take away from the session is that perhaps it is together, they’ll better find the end of the rainbow.

Once they arrive at the building and get out of the taxi, Natsu started walking towards it. Lucy tugged back to stop him. “Lucy?”

“Before we go in...” her voice lowers, hesitancy brimming in her tone. “I have a question to ask.”

“Of course, anything.”

“I can’t—, don’t want to do this alone anymore. But I also don’t want to put that kind of burden on Levy.”

“Lucy,” he pulled her hand up, clasped between his palms to his lips where he kissed the fingers gently. “I will do whatever you need me to do.”

She sighed. “Can I move in with you? A-At least until I get control of the panic attacks and the... the thing?” Her eyes flit to her arm rather than say the words aloud. “I know this would intrude on Gray, but I would feel much safer.”

Natsu paused for a second in thought. “I don’t think Gray will mind. I certainly don’t.” He smiled. “We’ll be there for each other.”

“Are you sure? Because there’s still a few things I haven’t mentioned like nightmares. I-I don’t wanna freak you guys out.”

“A promise is a promise, and when I said I’ll do anything, I meant it. Will it be scary, probably, I’m not gonna lie, but I’m willing to do whatever I need to get us through this.”

Lucy’s eyes gloss over, but a tiny smile ticks up at the corners of her lips. “Thank you, Natsu.”

He smiled back, “I’m the one who should be thankful.”

“For what?”

“For not dumping me. As much you’d worried, I’d leave you, I was deathly afraid you’d leave me. I brought this on us, so I wouldn’t blame you from running away.”

“Oh, Natsu.” This time a true smile finally graced Lucy’s face. “I’m not going anywhere either.”

#nalu #nalu au #nalu fan fiction #nalu fan fic #Natsu dragneel #Lucy heartfilia #Natsu x lucy #strangers on a train #ch 26 #tw cutting

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wheresmynaya · 4 years

Text

Cupcake Battles Ch. 1 | Brittana

I was inspired by the Brittana fanart circulating based on the Baking AU and as per usual the Discord had me out here binging Cupcake Wars until this happened! Hope this gives you a little smile.

Also available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & below the cut!

The doors of the commercial kitchen are thrown open as the most dramatic action music the Foodies Network Channel has to offer begins to play. A well-dressed, guppy-lipped blonde enters the room in slow motion and gives the camera a confident pose before he’s taking off his sunglasses and tossing them off screen.

“What’s up, America!” The man greets excitedly with a point to the camera. “I’m your host Sam Evans and tonight we’re gearing up for an intense cupcake clash. Overseeing this battle are our esteemed judges: Kurt Hummel, owner of the first ever fashion design-inspired patisserie The House of Hummel.”

As the camera pans to Kurt Hummel, he adjusts the gaudy – and most likely stupidly expensive – hippopotamus brooch pinned to the lapel of his Marc Jacobs blazer and gives the camera a prudish smile.

“Hold up,” The beautiful brunette beside him nudges to ask, “Is that a woman’s blazer?”

Kurt lifts his shoulder in disregard, “Fashion has no gender, Santana.”

“Huh,” Santana looks impressed and points back, “I needz me one of those.”

“I know a guy,” Kurt stage whispers before Sam’s voice fills the kitchen again.

“And he is joined by the ever-witty, ever-beautiful-“

“Why didn’t I get those kind of adjectives for my introduction?” Kurt grumbles.

Santana only smiles proudly without breaking eye contact with the camera, “Get like me, Hummel.”

If he were wearing any – which surprisingly he isn’t – Kurt would’ve clutched his pearls at the statement.

“Santana Lopez, owner and founder of the world-renowned bakery Sweets by Snixxx,” Sam says and the camera soon pans back to the judges’ panel where Santana Lopez gives the viewers her signature smirk accompanied by a sexy wink.

“In just a moment,” Sam continues with the camera back on him as he walks down the aisle which separates the four kitchen stations, “Four bakers will compete in the ultimate show down to see who comes out on top so,” He pauses dramatically as the camera whirls around him then zooms straight in for a close. In typical Sam-fashion, he sings the rest of his line to a familiar rhythm all while he karate chops at the air, “Let’s get down to business and meet the teams!”

The screen soon fills with two bright-eyed, young women sitting in front of a pastel pink backdrop. They’re dressed in electric blue baseball tees with their logo Batter Up Cupcakes scrawled across their chests. Their baseball caps are turned backwards and their hair is braided into pigtails and drape down over their shoulders.

They both wave excitedly at the camera before the shorter of the two blows the audience a two-handed kiss while the blonde pumps her fist in the air before it cuts to their introductions.

“I’m Brittany S. Pierce,” Says the tall blonde before she gestures to her side, “And this is my bestie Sugar Motta and we’re the owners of Batter Up Cupcakes in Lima, Ohio which is one of the only unicorn-friendly bakeries in Lima.”

The camera cuts to a cute montage of the two standing outside of their storefront while they alternate doing different poses that showcase their carefree attitude. Brittany can be heard doing a voiceover as the montage continues, “Sugar and I met when I first transferred to the Culinary Institute of America in New York and we’ve pretty much been inseparable ever since.”

We’re back in the studio with Brittany and Sugar sitting in front of the pastel pink backdrop as Sugar adds, “We just work super well together. We have a similar way of looking at things that is really unique but…there are some people out there that don’t get it.” Sugar then lowers her voice to a whisper and says, “Blaine and Tina.”

Brittany nods, “I think they’re jealous.”

“Because they’re lame?” Sugar asks behind a eye roll.

Brittany points to her friend and gives a single nod, “Yeah, that too.”

The screen then fills with another team sitting in front of the pastel pink backdrop. A man with way too much hair product smiles proudly at the camera while the woman next to him gives a wave. They both wear button-up dress shirts and little bowties with cupcakes on them as they go to introduce themselves.

“Hi, I’m Blaine Anderson,” The gel man says politely before wrapping his arm around the woman next to him. She melts into his side as he says, “And this is my lovely partner Tina Cohen-Chang.”

“Business partner…,” Tina corrects before her voice lowers slightly as she looks disappointedly to the side, “Not like a life partner, I’ve tried.”

“Yes, yes you have,” Blaine continues on before it gets any more awkward, “So together we own Baking Dreams Come True in Lima, Ohio.”

Off-screen a voice asks, “Oh, same as our other competitors: Brittany and Sugar of Batter Up Cupcakes?”

Blaine and Tina visibly grit their teeth before Blaine sucks in a deep breath and plasters on a smile, “Yes, one in the same. It’s such a small world, we actually attended the same culinary school too. They were…quite the eccentric pair.”

“It’s true,” Tina adds, “They’re known for coming up with some pretty quirky combinations. We however take a more traditional approach to things, really focus on technique rather than flare.”

Blaine bobbles along to everything Tina says, “That’s correct. They like to claim that they’re the first LGBTQ-friendly bakery in Lima but I’m pretty sure we filed our paperwork before them.”

“They say they’re unicorn-friendly, which doesn’t make any sense. Unicorns aren’t even real. It gives a mixed message,” Tina explains with an air of annoyance.

“It does, but people go there anyway,” Blaine replies with a shrug and his proud smile falters as he adds, “We’ve kind of been rivals for years now. Always trying to one up the other, it’s…awesome.”

Suddenly we’re back on Team Batter Up Cupcakes where Brittany gives a bored look to the camera and says plainly, “Honestly, with a name like that they’re not a threat to us.”

“Baking dreams come true?” Sugar chuckles, “Not today.”

Brittany giggles along with her and they both high five.

The camera is back on Team Baking Dreams Come True and Blaine’s looking like a puppy ready to wet himself with excitement, “We’re just here for fun.”

“It’s that attitude right there, Blaine,” Tina says tiredly before narrowing her eyes at the camera, “We’re here to settle the score once and for all.”

Blaine smiles hesitantly, “We love a little friendly competition.”

Back to Team Batter Up Cupcakes and Sugar is looking directly at the camera with this determined stare as she punches her small fist into her palm, “We’re going to crush them.”

Brittany nods proudly, “Totally.”

“So here’s how the competition’s going to go down,” Sam announces as he walks back to stand in front of the judges panel, “One by one, teams will be eliminated as they are judged by taste, presentation, and in the final round the last two bakers standing will have to bring it all together into one cheer-worthy cupcake display. The winner gets to have their creation as the centerpiece of the Annual Cheerios Breakfast Benefit and walks away with $10,000.”

The camera pans to Team Batter Up Cupcakes and Team Baking Dreams Come True to catch their reactions before panning to the two remaining teams to be announced.

The camera cuts to the third team that will be competing. Another couple dressed in matching flannel shirts is seated in front of the signature pastel pink wall but the camera dramatically adjusts to fit the insane height difference of the couple before anyone starts speaking. A chipper brunette smiles and waves while her dopey counterpart slowly does the same.

“Hi, I’m Rachel Barbara Berry,” The shorter one says with perfect enunciation before resting her hand on the forearm of the man next to her. She cranes her head back to stare up lovingly, “And this is my husband Finn Hudson. You might be wondering why I’ve kept my last name, well-“

Suddenly someone off-screen cuts her off, “No, no one was wondering. Just continue with your backstory, your baking-related backstory.”

Rachel looks a little peeved but waves it off, “Right. Well, I’ve always loved baking and my husband here loves to eat. Before my Broadway dreams were unfortunately-“

“Rachel, please stay on topic.” The voice says again which makes Rachel grumble.

“Fine! Finn and I started a home business called Gold Star Bakery. It’s taking a little while to get off the ground purely because someone keeps eating our clients’ orders-”

“Babe, you have to label it or else I’m just going to think it’s up for grabs.” Finn responds with a frown then looks back to the camera, “She’s a great baker and we’re just looking for our big break. This money will really help out a lot, maybe we can open our own place?”

“You mean that?” Rachel’s suddenly so overcome with emotion that a tear trickles down her face. Suddenly she’s breaking character and looks to someone off screen, “Did you get that? I can cry on command.”

Finn smiles proudly, “She’s great isn’t she?”

The camera cuts to the last team that will be competing and the man and woman smile brightly for the camera. They’re wearing matching purple t-shirts with their logo across the left pocket in blocky letters before they cut to a montage of the team showing off in their area.

“I’m Mercedes Jones,” The woman says and tilts her head to the man next to her, “And this is Artie Abrams and together we run AJs Bake Shop. We have worked together for years at various restaurants before we decided to team up and do our own thing. We’ve been killin’ it in L.A. ever since. ”

“Mhm, that’s right!” Artie nods with a sense of pride, “We’re top dogs where we come from so we thought we might test our skills and see what we can really do.”

“We’re here to win,” Mercedes says as she gives the camera an intimidating stare, “We’re not leaving without that trophy.”

“Wait, I thought it was money?” Artie asks with his brows furrowed.

Mercedes just shrugs, “We’ll take that too.”

Back in the kitchen, Sam stands by the judge’s panel to reveal another judge sitting with Kurt and Santana. A fierce older woman sits among them, dressed in a red and white track suit, and gives the audience a steely gaze.

“Tonight’s special guest judge is Coach Sue Sylvester,” Sam announces grandly, “She is the founder of the Olympic-winning cheerleading team: the Cheerios! Welcome to the battle zone, Coach!”

“Glad to be here,” Sue says slowly without any emotion whatsoever and continues to stare down the competitors, “I can’t wait to see everyone rip each other to shreds.”

Kurt and Santana exchange looks of confusion while Sam tries to reel in his worry and get back to his hosting duties, “So anyway, for tonight’s theme we’re thinking breakfast. For Round One, we would like to see our teams whip up something that encompasses the Sweet and Savory side of a classic American breakfast. Remember bakers, this is a timed challenge.”

The camera pans to the teams’ reactions and everyone looks a mix of surprise and anxious. Everyone, expect for Team Batter Up Cupcakes where we find Brittany looking in deep thought with her finger tapping at her chin while Sugar narrows her eyes and purses her lips, almost angrily.

“Looks like Brittany and Sugar weren’t expecting this one,” Kurt comments lowly to Santana and the two look in their direction as the team continues to stare off.

Santana’s eyes settle on the blonde and for a moment, she forgets she’s on camera as they start to roam. Santana has met many contestants during her time on the show, but none have been as attractive as the blonde baker before her. She’s not sure what it is about the woman, maybe it’s the backwards baseball cap that is alerting her inner lesbian or maybe it’s the baseball tee that’s doing it, but Santana really can’t stop staring.

Brittany is stunning, she thinks, and she begins to tune out the sound of Sam’s horrible impressions as she watches.

“Santana,” Kurt snaps and nudges Santana out of her daydreaming in time to hear Sam announce the start of the first challenge.

“Man your stations, bakers, and let the battle begin!” He says with the wave of his hands as if he were one of those flag girls at race.

Santana rolls her eyes at his antics and looks back to find Kurt staring at her. She scrunches her nose, “What are you looking at?”

“You know,” Kurt says with an all-knowing look and begins to smirk, “I saw you.”

“Please. You saw nothing,” Santana brushes off and tries to keep her eyes roaming the room to watch as the bakers – all the bakers – set off. She tries her hardest to give everyone equal attention, but she can’t help the pull that has her glancing over to Team Batter Up Cupcakes more so than any other team.

“You look nervous,” Sugar notices just after Sam had announced the start of the challenge, “Why do you look nervous? We don’t do nervous.”

“I’m not nervous!” Brittany says defensively before relenting with a sigh, “You know how I feel about breakfast, Sug. It’s impossible to understand.”

“I know, remember that one time you got into that argument with the waiter about eggs benedict?” Sugar frowns and Brittany lets out another defeated sigh.

“He was wrong then and he’s still wrong now,” Brittany huffs.

“Obviously,” Sugar agrees then perks up, “But the challenge is sweet and savory so there’s no way we can mix this up again. We can do this.”

Brittany’s worry is replaced with a determined smile, “You’re right and I think I’ve got the perfect mashup idea.”

Sugar claps her hands excitedly as they began to brainstorm.

Unbeknownst to Team Batter Up Cupcakes, every other team has decided to make two different cupcakes which will showcase a sweet and savory aspect individually.

The judges have taken notice of that which makes it even harder for Santana to keep her eyes off of Team Batter Up Cupcakes. They speak amongst themselves about the team’s decision and wonder if they just haven’t started on a second cupcake yet or if they’re really going with just one offering.

“Dear God, what is going on at Team Gold Star Bakery’s station?” Sue frowns when a bellow of black smoke emits from the oven.

Kurt looks in horror as Finn pulls out the crisp cupcakes.

Santana smirks at the sight, “Yeah, those are gonna be dry as hell.”

“Why is the oven set to 500 degrees?” Rachel practically yells while Finn throws away the ruined cupcakes.

“Don’t look at me, I didn’t even know oven temperatures when up that high!” Finn argues but Rachel just shakes her head.

“Trouble in paradise?” Mercedes calls over with a chuckle. She and Artie are quietly working away in their own station but tune into the sound of some juicy gossip.

“No!” Rachel frowns at her and looks to Finn, “We need to start over or else we’re not going to have anything for the judges. Time is running out!”

“Okay okay, we’re fine. We just need to get our heads in the game!” Finn looks more determined than ever but then his face falls when he sees the judges stand. He spins around so fast that he nearly knocks Rachel over, “Crap, they’re getting up to make their rounds.”

“Already?! They’re going to think we aren’t prepared!”

“Well…I mean we aren’t,” Finn says plainly.

“Finn!” Rachel chastises and begins rushing through another batter.

“Alright judges, here’s our first team: Blaine and Tina of Baking Dreams Come True!” Sam introduces as the three judges approach their station. Blaine and Tina smile politely and greet them all as they continue to move around each other.

“Wow, what an…interesting name,” Santana comments, losing the battle of hiding her judgement. Not that she ever actually tries to, that’s kind of what makes her a fan favorite.

“So take us through what you are working on,” Kurt says after shooting Santana a glare.

Blaine goes on to explain the complex flavor pairings they will be using which Santana points out isn’t actually all that complex. Tina’s working on some intricate detailing while Blaine pipes frosting, but they both stop to stare at each other with dropped jaws.

“I’m just not seeing any wow factor,” Santana shrugs.

“Well, don’t count us out just yet,” Blaine counters which causes Santana to raise a brow. It’s rare that any contestant ever talks back to her. “Tina’s fondant work is really out of this world.”

“Sugar’s better!” Brittany calls out from across the aisle where she’s busy hand-whipping something. She sends a smirk their way – which of course Santana doesn’t miss – and adds, “She has beaten you in every competition ever.”

“You suck so much, Tina!” Sugar chimes in as well from behind Brittany.

Sue cracks a hint of a devilish smile, “Love a bit of trash talk.”

Santana would have to agree, “It��s something we don’t see here too often. I think we’re in for an interesting battle.” Then she looks to the team again, “Good luck.”

Blaine and Tina just stew in their annoyance as the rest of the judges bid them good luck and travel across the way to Team Batter Up Cupcakes.

“The second team competing today is Brittany and Sugar of Batter Up Cupcakes,” Sam announces for the judges. Sugar gives a wave of her fingers and flashes a bright smile, while Brittany literally does a double-take when she finds Santana smiling at her.

She has seen the show on tv before and she of course is aware of Santana’s prestigious backstory – and sure she might have a tiny crush on the star too – but she wasn’t quite prepared for the unabashed beauty she was going to be smacked with upon seeing Santana in person.

Miraculously, Brittany manages to give her a confident smile despite the flips happening in her belly. She says without a trace of nervousness, “Hey, I’m Brittany. That’s Sugar.”

“So I’ve heard,” Santana replies coolly through a smirk with her deep brown eyes twinkling.

“What’s the tea between you and the other team?” Kurt asks, giving Santana a slight nudge back into professionalism.

“We’ve always been rivals; grew up in the same small town, attended the same culinary school, even started bakeries in our local area. We’re just better than them and they can’t come to admit that yet,” Brittany says it like it is, “Hopefully they’ll finally take the hint when we win.”

Santana laughs at that, “I like your confidence, Brittany.”

“Of course you do,” Brittany says without thinking and it surprises both Kurt and Santana but she rolls with it anyway, “Going back to Bland and Tacky over there, isn’t their lame bakery name a mouthful?”

“Wanky,” Santana smirks and Kurt swats at her arm. If he had a spray bottle on him, that comment would’ve earned her a spritz.

Brittany – on the other hand – just smiled back before continuing with her work, her tone arms flexing as she whisked vigorously.

Santana licks her lips at the sight, her eyes dipping down to the bowl in Brittany’s hands then back up, “Tell us what you’re working on.”

Brittany wonders if she’s imagining things or if she really just saw Santana Lopez eye her up and down like she was a fresh glazed donut hot out off the belt. No matter, she takes a breath and goes to explain, “So we’re doing something with maple bacon for that sweet and salty factor and it’ll add a little crunch. Sugar’s working on a white truffle frosting and this is the start of a jalapeno-infused pancake cupcake for a bit of spice.”

“You’re putting all of that in one cupcake?” Kurt asks, wide-eyed. He looks a little nervous and it makes Santana snort while Sue is equally intrigued.

Brittany and Sugar shrug nonchalantly, “Totally.”

Kurt looks to Santana somewhat worried but Santana’s looking at the team with interest. It’s an odd combination, but she can see what they’re aiming for and it’s pretty out of the box. With competitions like this, contestants usually stick to the basics so she has a little soft spot for those who like to take risks.

She also has a soft spot for smokin’ hot blondes.

“I think it sounds interesting,” Santana says with a smile, “I can’t wait to taste.”

Blue eyes darken with the way the last word rolls off of Santana’s tongue. It gives Brittany this boost of confidence because Santana is known for being a pretty hard judge to please yet here she is handing out compliments.

“You won’t be disappointed,” Brittany tells her earnestly.

Santana chuckles and it comes off as the best combination of sexy and cute, “We’ll see. Good luck.”

As the judges move on to the next station, Brittany’s eyes linger on the sway of Santana’s hips as she goes. That dress she’s in does amazing things for the woman’s slim figure. It’s hypnotic and she probably would’ve overwhipped if Sugar didn’t break the staring contest she had going on.

“Britt!” Sugar gasps and swats at Brittany’s arm, “She was so flirting with you. Santana Lopez, flirting with you!”

“Why did you say it like that? Like you couldn’t believe it?” Brittany pouts playfully then laughs Sugar off, “She wasn’t flirting with me. It’s just her character, it’s all for show. I’m sure she’s like that with everyone.”

“Yeah bullshit,” Sugar scoffs and goes back to frosting, “She didn’t even acknowledge me and I was standing right next to you!”

“Well maybe you should step your game up then,” Brittany quips as she knocks her shoulder teasingly into Sugar’s before she heads over to pull out the cupcakes to cool.

“I don’t think it’s my game she’s interested in,” Sugar counters.

“Alright bakers-“ Suddenly Sam is slipping on his shades again and doing a terrible Justin Timberlake impression, “You’ve only got 4 minutes, 4 minutes!”

“He should be fired,” Santana scrunches her nose.

Kurt shrugs, “The viewers like him.”

“Shh, Madonna is iconic,” Sue hushes them both as she watches Sam continue to sing and dance.

Brittany’s somewhat nervous as she and Sugar approach the panel with their finished cupcake.

They’ve been watching the two other teams before them – Team Baking Dreams Come True and Team AJs Bakeshop – get judged when they realized they might have a bit of competition here. As per usual, Santana has found flaws in each other their cupcakes though and it doesn’t seem like anyone’s pleased her yet but Brittany has faith that she might be able to change that.

In more ways than one as Sugar not so discreetly put it.

“Did you forget one?” Sue asks as a single cupcake is presented.

“No. We decided to do something a little different, it’s something we’re kind of known for,” Brittany explains as the final plate is given to Santana who sits the furthest away from her. “Instead of creating two separate cupcakes, we thought we could combine those flavors into the ultimate sweet and savory breakfast-inspired mashup. This is our take on a classic – although, I’m not exactly sure what counts as a classic since America is a melting pot of cultures and breakfast looks different for everyone – “ Brittany pauses to wonder while Kurt and Sue stare back in confusion.

Santana is the only one that seems to understand her point of view.

Sugar interrupts Brittany’s wondering to and finishes her previous train of thought, “We hope you enjoy!”

Then Sugar goes to explain their thought process and the flavors used while the judges dig in.

Brittany has shifted to being too preoccupied with the way Santana licks frosting off of her fork to offer Sugar any assistance. It’s quiet and they wait anxiously for someone to speak. They took a huge risk by only presenting one cupcake, but their flavors are there and they’re really the only ones that tried something different so that should count for something.

“I’m actually really enjoying this,” Kurt says, “I had my doubts, but you’ve perfected the balance between sweet and savory. My only complaint is the cake itself might’ve been a little too spicy for me.”

“Really?” Santana looks surprised, borderline offended.

“What? I’m not use to having jalapenos for breakfast, Santana.”

“Yeah and it shows,” Santana says with a roll of her eyes before looking directly at Brittany. Her annoyance is suddenly replaced with delight, “Color me, impressed. Aside from Kurt’s ridiculous compliant about spice, I agree with everything he said. You’ve knocked the ball out of the park for me. I really admire the risk you took by focusing on combining the sweet and savory aspect into one cupcake instead of keeping them separate. Sheer genius.”

“Wow,” Sam says and suddenly the camera is on him again, “Such high praise on the first round, the other teams need to watch out for Team Batter Up Cupcakes.”

Sue goes on to say her comments too, but Brittany doesn’t hear them. She’s too captivated by the fact that she was able to impress the Santana Lopez, the Queen of High Expectations. She feels really, really good now.

“Thank you ladies,” Sam then waves his hand to their station, “Please return to your station. Team Gold Star Bakery, you’re up!”

While the last team goes up for judgement, Sugar and Brittany try to contain their excitement after getting such great feedback on their cupcake.

“We rocked it, Britt!” Sugar cheeses then waggles her brows, “And did you see how Santana was eyeing you up there? She was practically undressing you with her eyes.”

“She was not,” Brittany laugh dismissively.

“She totally was, I’m telling you! She’s into you,” Sugar assures her, “Look, she’s staring at you right now!”

Brittany spins to look and sure enough she finds Santana smiling at her with that same cocky grin from before.

Brittany rolls with it and gives Santana a wink before turning to Sugar, “That’s nothing. She’s just being nice.”

“If being nice means she wants a piece of you then, yeah! She’s being really nice.”

Brittany can only laugh at her friend’s comments, she’s been known to try and set her up with randoms. She wouldn’t actually be too upset though if Sugar ended up being right about Santana though, but she’s not giving into that just yet. Once Sugar is on a roll, she’s a little hard to reel back in.

“She’s super hot and successful which is the perfect combination for my dream girl,” Brittany starts, “But I don’t think anything will happen. We’re too different.”

“Seriously? You guys would be the perfect mashup!” Sugar lets out a heavy sigh but decides to drop it for now and focuses back on the excellent praise they received. “Knocked the ball out of the park,” Sugar mimics Santana’s earlier words, “That’s amazing.”

Brittany’s back to smiling proudly, “We didn’t even have to get to any of the bases first,” Then she starts to pout, “I was kind of looking forward to that..”

“Okay, you can’t get on me for thinking that you guys would be cute together then say something like that,” Sugar groans, “Let me be your wing-woman!”

Brittany shakes her head and smirks, “We crushed the first round, huh?”

“Yeah, we did!” Sugar beams and while the cameras were busy on the judges’ panel, she sticks up her middle fingers and flips off Blaine and Tina, “Suck it, losers!”

“Oh my God,” Tina frowns as Brittany joined in on it too. She’s looking completely offended as she pulls Blaine from watching Finn and Rachel. He’s confused but looks to wherever she is pointing.

“Awh, come on guys!” Blaine sighs upon seeing them, “Don’t be like that. We’re just here to have fun.”

“Spoken like a true loser,” Brittany calls over and sticks her tongue out at them while Sugar forms an L with her fingers and lifts it to her forehead.

Blaine just shakes his head at them and forces Tina to look elsewhere, “Don’t mind them, T. They’re just trying to get into our heads like always. We’ll get them in Round 2.”

“Okay. So after some deliberation the judges have come to a decision,” Sam starts and the music suddenly turns ominous as he deeps his voice, “The winner…of Round 1…goes to…”

Brittany and Sugar are hanging on to each other’s hands, their knuckles going white with how tightly they’re holding on. Brittany’s stomach is full of cartwheels and fluttery butterflies as Sam takes an excessive amount of dramatic pauses.

“Brittany and Sugar of Team Batter Up Cupcakes!”

Brittany’s jaw drops at the sound of their names being called before they’re bouncing up and down excitedly in each other’s arms while Sam continues to speak.

“Although you are the only team who presented a single cupcake for this challenge, you were able to balance the flavors of sweet and savory so well that the decision was unanimous.”

Santana watches on with a proud smile as she and the rest of the judges clap for them.

“Congratulations ladies,” Sam says then the ominous music is back, “There is one team that won’t be so lucky and that team…will be…Rachel and Finn of Team Gold Star Bakery. Your fight is over at Cupcake Battles.”

“No!” Rachel cries out dramatically and falls to her knees like she’s been shot.

Unfortunately that means she’s out of the camera’s view, but she must realize that as she squirms out from behind the station, sliding along the floor like a worm until she’s back in view and continues to cry out right on the floor.

Finn looks like he doesn’t know what to do with himself but he gives the camera this gassy-baby impression before he’s trying to pick Rachel up off the floor, “Come on Rach, we’re better than this.”

“I can’t go on! The failure is too great,” Rachel says dramatically, “Just leave me here…”

Santana watches the scene with her jaw dropped slightly. Never in the history of the show has anyone reacted like that after being kicked off.

“I-I just want to know why…” Rachel asks through her tears as Finn finally brings her to her feet.

“Yeah, we were trying to get to that before the – uh – theatrics started,” Santana quips.

Santana’s words spur another outburst of cries from Rachel.

Kurt tries a more sensitive approach and looks to Rachel and Finn apologetically, “You both are so passionate and we…really appreciate that but execution is really important when you’re up against such talented bakers and you…just fell short.”

“That’s short person discrimination!” Rachel says suddenly and this time Santana can’t help but laugh out.

“What in the hell?” Santana whispers to Kurt, “Where did they find her?”

Kurt just shrugs as Rachel continues to rant. Santana’s had enough though and swiftly cuts them off.

“Alright, listen…Rachel, Finn, your cupcakes sucked,” Santana now had her infamous glare zoned in on them as she spoke, “They were overcooked, the frosting was way too sweet, the cake itself lacked depth, not to mention the fact that they didn’t rise at all yet you still put it on the plate and tried to pass it off as pancakes like we wouldn’t notice…would you like me to continue?”

Rachel stammered while Finn just looked down in embarrassment.

“Ah-ah, that was a rhetorical question. I don’t actually want to hear anything else you have to say, you’ve wasted enough time as it is,” Santana says and crossed her arms across her chest.

“Now get the hell out of my kitchen!” Sue chimes in.

Kurt and Santana exchange a look before Santana is speaking up again.

“Uhh, your kitchen?” Santana challenges. Thankfully, Kurt is sitting between them and is already trying to get her to sit back in her seat. “You’re here for like what? Five seconds? And you think this is your kitchen? Please, you’re just a guest here. This is our house, we invited you.”

“Okay!” Kurt claps overly-excitedly, trying to break the tension, “Sam? Back to you.”

Sue just rolls her eyes as Sam dismisses the Rachel and Finn.

Brittany was oddly turned on as she watched that whole thing unfold. Seeing Santana give it to someone straight like that was glorious in person and she looked so hot doing it, but it also assured her that she never wanted Santana to have that kind of reaction to anything they put up.

Now, that would be a disaster. But they were off to a good start and the just needed to keep that momentum going for the next round.

“With our first challenge done and dusted and our first round of winners and eliminations out of the way, we’re on to the next challenge!” Sam announces he looks to each team and asks, “You ready, bakers?”

Everyone yells out an enthusiastic yes!

“Awesome!” Sam cheers then turns back to the camera, “Stay tuned for more Cupcake Battles, Round 2 is sure to leave you in high spirits.”

#Cupcake Battles #Brittana #Brittana fanfiction #fanfics #Baking AU

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