#plus it gives me the opportunity to practice lighting and stuff without having to draw a background myself..

[reminiscentrainclouds]

Drawing characters in photos is really fun. Get put into real life boy

I found the original photo on Pinterest, but it's "Kung Fu Fighters" by Justine Kurland from the series Girl Pictures, 1999.

[iamverysmall-andihavenomoney]

Bokuto Kōtarō Boyfriend Head Cannons

All Credits for my inspiration go to @ghoulgirlradio. We were on some serious Bo loving hours, earlier, and it inspired this. Might as well have written half of this with me. They are the best, lemme tell you.

Haikyū!! Masterlist

Pairing: Bokuto Kōtarō x Gender Neutral! Reader

Warnings: Bokuto being best boy

Bokuto loves having you paint his nails.

He usually loves to paint your nails a matching sky blue color — don’t ask him why, he just likes the color it reminds him of how much you calm him down when he needs it.

But, for special occasions, he’ll let you pick the color.

Bokuto dates with the intent to marry one day.

Someone said to him once ‘dating for any reason other than wanting marriage in your future is dating to get your heart broken’ and it stuck with the boy.

You meeting Akaashi is a big deal to him. That’s his best friend and he wants you both to get along.

The day you met Akaashi, Bokuto was internally freaking out, worried that you guys wouldn’t like one another.

You both are always with him and splitting his time between you both wouldn’t be fun at all.

But, you and Akaashi quickly bonded over your care for the owl boy and progressed to becoming good friends from there.

One day, Bokuto found you both waiting for him outside of the gym, talking and laughing. His heart melted, watching the way you both got along. But holy shit, how’d you make Akaashi laugh.

When he went off to the training camp, he went into emo mode for the two days prior, pouting that he wasn’t going to be able to see you.

Second day of training camp, he got an idea and acted on it IMMEDIATELY

His head ass totally pretended to forget something when he went off to the training camp.

So of course, he called you and asked you to bring it to him. He said it was cold at night and you couldnt let your boyfriend freeze. Plus, you missed him.

When you got to the main gym in the middle of the day, everyone just kind of stared at you in confusion. Except for Akaashi, who waved you over, while Bokuto eccentrically celebrated his particularly good spike.

You’re allowed to step up behind him, onto the court and you seize the opportunity to hug your boyfriend, arms wrapping around him from behind.

He freezes at first, before looking down — he’d recognize the feeling of your hug anywhere.

“HEY HEY HEY—” He catches the attention of everyone in the gym, everyone turning to face you both.

Though Bo doesn’t care, picking you up and dancing around with you in his arms.

“BABY OWL, YOU’RE HERE.”

He’s so excited acting like he didn’t see you, just two days ago

For the rest of the day, he’s dedicating all of his serves to you. Until the managers pull you away to talk and have you help them with dinner.

Cue emo mode

“Yeah, they’re amazing! They’re always doing things for me and making me smile. Akaashi can tell you! They’ve been helping me sit down and study! Y/N made this little game for us, where I get a kiss for every five minutes I spend studying! Oh, hey Y/N — BABY OWL!!! — Did you bring me food?! See, I told you guys! Baby owl, come here so I can brag about you some more.”

Boy had no shame on bragging about you. Until...

“Kōtarō.”

His eyes get wide and he pouts at you. “Why are you upset? Y/N... That’s not my name.”

“Bokuto-san, that is your name.”

“No it’s not!.. Y/N, what happened to pretty baby?”

His hair is drooping and his eyes are sad and Akaashi is giving you a look. The ‘Y/N, we talked about this’ look.

“Pretty boy, I’m not mad at you, but if you wanted me here, next time just tell me, rather than lying that you forgot your blanket.”

He looks at you with a sheepish grin, before huffing, “No more of that Ko stuff. I’m your pretty baby.”

Kuroo is laughing, Tsukishima is judging you both hard, Akaashi is just shaking his head in amusement.

“So, introduce me to your friends.”

You hit it off with Kuroo and as much as you could with Tsukishima but he’s an asshole

The next few days, at every opportunity he was showing you off and showing off to you while he was on court.

Dates with Bokuto are always fun and Akaashi always has some part in them, whether that be because he was helping Bokuto with the date, or with you and Bokuto on the date.

Bokuto always wanted Akaashi’s help, with each date, because he wanted each and every date to be the absolute best

He wanted to make you as happy as you made him, to show you how happy you made him by doing all of this for you, as well.

You both also have lots of study dates at his house. You both drag all of his pillows and blankets to the floor and curl up.

You spread everything out on the floor and sit back to back to study.

When either of you notices the other getting tense or stressed out, you’re able to massage their shoulders a bit to help the relax, sometimes also massaging their scalp and leaving kisses on their shoulders

You’re both extremely attentive to the other.

Bokuto knows you forget to eat most morning. He got used to carrying sports drinks and granola bars for after his morning practice

Now, he carries extra so you both can have breakfast together every morning

He likes to be wearing something of yours all of the time. Whether that be a jacket, hair tie, necklace, bracelet, ring, just anything really.

But, as with most sports, volleyball doesn’t alloy jewelry or clothing items but a uniform on a player’s persons

So, he likes for you to draw on his arm before every game

He always wants to have you there for every game and practice.

“You’re my lucky charm, baby owl!”

You missed a practice once

The boy went through the worst emo phase he has in a while. You got a call from Akaashi.

When you showed up, your poor owl boy was sulking bad

Even when you walked to him and opened your arms to him, he was sulking.

“Why didn’t you come? Are you made at me?”

“No, pretty boy, I just had something to do.”

It took about fifteen minutes, but the boy finally calmed and played as well as always after your reassurances.

Bokuto loves to see you cheering for him in the stands. It makes his heart grow so full.

And he swears he plays better because of it.

Before every game, he demands a mandatory hug.

Hugs with Bokuto are the best

He’s always so warm

And whenever he hugs you, no matter how tall or short you are, he will tuck his head in your neck.

And with every hug, comes some type of sweet affirmation

“You smell good.”

“Hugging your always makes me so happy.”

“Your smile lights up my world.”

You both don’t know who started the affirmations but neither of you goes a day without hearing them.

The team knows that Bokuto firmly believes that you are a major part of his success

And so, every celebratory dinner, ever game, every training week or weekend, you’re there and no one says anything about it, because they know that you can get him out of every emo phase, every slump, every time.

One day, Akaashi and you were standing outside of the gym and waiting on Bokuto, when Akaashi speaks to you.

“You know, you’ve make Bokuto-san very happy... Thank you for loving him. He can be a bit of a mess, sometimes, but he does love you. He’s been doing better in school and he’s been having less emo modes... He’s been a lot happier, because of you. So thank you.”

“He’s made me a lot happier. I’m really proud of him, to be with him.”

Neither of you noticed Bokuto standing in the doorway listening

Bokuto = 🥺

His two favorite people in the world were getting along and he couldn’t be happier to see it.

Bokuto loves you more than life itself and wouldn’t ever let you forget it.

[thewritewolf]

No, Really

Summary: Adrien can no longer deny it - he is in love with Marinette! The only problem is, she has made it absolutely clear that she is definitely not interested in him. But when he discovers that Marinette might be harboring feelings for Chat Noir, Adrien decides that there is only one way to get together with her: Reveal his identity.

Trouble is? She doesn't believe him.

Hello and welcome! This fic was written for the @totographszine, which was publish for free here. Go check it out, the wonderful @anna-scribbles even did some excellent art of this fic in there.

Read on Ao3

Without any further ado... Enjoy!

Adrien was in love with Marinette. There was no getting around that any more. But, unfortunately, it didn’t seem that she felt the same way.

Ever since he had come to terms with his feelings, he’d been trying to flirt with her. A few cheesy lines here. Some lingering touches and eye contact there. Compliments scattered throughout the day. Although, as he had realized now, it was harder to compliment her more than he already had been. How had it taken him so long to figure out his feelings?

The worst part of it was that she even flirted back! Which may sound great, but his experiences with Ladybug had taught him that flirting back could also mean friendly banter. It was a frustratingly similar experience, which he chose not to dwell on too hard.

And just like with Ladybug, he was at least appreciating the friendship that he could share with Marinette. Now that she had begun to open up to him, he was learning all sorts of things about her. Her favorite foods, what exactly tickled her most, her little mannerisms.

One day he learned the most important little fact about Marinette of them all.

“What is it with you and crushin’ on celebs, girl?”

Adrien recognized Alya’s voice at once and his eyes widened when he realized who she was likely talking to on the other side of the locker.

Sure enough, Marinette let out an irritated groan. There was a sound of a locker opening.

“What makes you think I have a crush on him? Just because I drew him in my notebook—”

“Oh sure, if you were just drawing him, that’d be one thing. But the hearts and kissy faces tell a whole different story.”

Adrien stood stock-still, listening as intently as he could. It felt as if his heart had

stopped beating. Had he failed to win the hearts of both his crushes? Would he ever get a lucky break just for once?

“They weren’t—that’s—no! Those were …” Marinette sputtered and eventually mumbled something that sounded a lot like “spades.”

“Spades.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying, girl, if you want I could probably mention your name the next time I see him. Sure it’d be harder to pull off than with blondie, but I’m down.”

“Drop it, Alya,” Marinette said half-heartedly. The locker door was shut and they walked toward the entrance. For a moment, he was scared they would turn around and see him eavesdropping. “I’m sure Chat Noir doesn’t want to have my number pushed into his hand.”

Adrien’s eyes widened as he suddenly jolted to life. Chat Noir?

“Maybe. We’ll only find out if we give it a shot.” Their voices got more distant as they walked away. “At least we know you’ve got a type now.”

“Alya!”

In his heart of hearts, Adrien hoped that type included boys with green eyes and blond hair. Would it be too much to ask that she fall for him a second time? Not just as Chat Noir but as Adrien?

It was there, standing alone in the locker room, heart pounding in his throat and feeling light headed, that Adrien was suddenly struck by a plan. And while he was no Ladybug, he was pretty confident about this one.

After all, he didn’t need to make her fall for him twice. She just needed to find out who Chat Noir was.

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

His first opportunity took way too long to arrive. The need to confess his secret identity to her had been weighed against his duty not only to Paris but to Ladybug. He was as certain of Marinette’s trustworthiness as he could be, but he needed to be sure that she and only she heard him.

Besides, it made confessing his feelings a little easier too, which was honestly weighing just as heavily on his mind. Sure, safety of Paris and fighting Hawkmoth and all that, but there was also his poor battered heart to take into consideration. Ladybug had been gentle with her rejections, but they still stung as much as being tossed into a wall by a dozen akumas.

It took over a month for a golden opportunity. The four of them had been studying in Marinette’s room when Alya had left to go babysit her sisters, taking Nino along with her. Adrien watched them slowly pack up and amble over to the trap door, silently screaming every time they stopped for another little chat. But eventually, they did leave. Nino’s cap disappeared below the floor and the trapdoor shut behind them. It was late enough that Sabine and Tom had gone to bed already, but not so late that Adrien would have to leave yet, at least not for a couple hours.

Swallowing against the suddenly dryness in his throat, Adrien looked at Marinette. All thoughts of the physics homework in front of them banished the moment he saw her tongue poking out the side of her mouth, her brow furrowed in concentration.

How could one person be so cute?

Her bright blue eyes flickered up at him. “Something wrong, Adrien?”

There wasn’t going to be a better time. It was now or never.

“Marinette … I’m Chat Noir.”

The sound of her pencil scratching along the paper stopped as she stared at her homework. There was a long moment of silence wherein Adrien silently panicked. After a few seconds that stretched into infinity, which Adrien spent praying that she would say something, anything, she finally spoke.

“Yeah, okay.”

She said it with a snort and a chuckle. It was like when he was experimenting with different jokes for her and he found one that didn’t quite land but didn’t completely fall flat.

She returned back to her homework, and the sound of the pencil resumed.

“Okay? That’s all you’ve got to say?”

“Um … I suppose I can add a ‘haha’ in there too? If it makes you feel better?”

“You’re not supposed to laugh!”

“Then it’s not a very good joke.”

“It isn’t a joke,” Adrien said, crossing his arms haughtily. This was not going how he had planned in the slightest.

Marinette raised an eyebrow as she sat up. “There is no way you are Chat Noir.”

“Why not? I’m cool!”

“Exactly, and Chat Noir is a massive dweeb.”

Adrien gasped, scandalized. “Take that back!”

“I will not. Besides,” she continued, raising her hand, “there are plenty of things Chat Noir is that you aren’t and vice versa.” She raised a finger for each point. “Chat Noir is loud, outgoing, with a sharp tongue, and he’s a flirt to boot. Plus the whole massive dweeb thing.”

“And what about me?” Adrien pouted, almost dreading the answer. “Adrien Agreste me, I should say.”

“You’re quieter, to start with.” There was a faint blush on her cheeks. Maybe it was easier for her to describe someone who she thought wasn’t present. “You’re considerate and kind and a perfect gentleman.” She smirked and chuckled. “At least, you usually are.”

Adrien put his hands together and brought them next to his lips as he took a deep breath. He was suddenly reminded of all the times he’d made reservations or tried to set up an account on some website under his own name, only to have it deleted because it “couldn’t possibly be actually Adrien Agreste.” By this point in his initial planning stages of confessing to Marinette, they were already organizing their first date between passionate spells of making out, not trying to determine if he really was himself.

But Adrien was nothing if not adaptable.

With a wide, toothy grin worthy of his alter ego, he leaned forward, putting himself dangerously close to her face. The faint blush she’d been sporting flared to life and spread across her entire face. Her eyes went large as he purred out a reply.

“What an unfortunate alley cat I am, baring my soul to a beautiful princess and she doesn’t even believe me. Whatever shall I do?”

“W-wow, you’ve … you’ve really practiced this, h-haven’t you?” She put on a brave face and scooted backwards.

“You could say that. You could also say I’ve got a lot of experience with the whole Chat Noir flare.” The smile became more genuine as he added teasingly, “And it looks like you think Chat Noir might be more than just a massive dweeb, hmm?”

“Y-yeah?” She got back some of her composure—not much, but enough to start bantering back at him. “And what else is he then?”

“A cool cat, maybe,” he said, tossing his hair and running a hand through it. “Or, even better, a fine feline.” He grinned and finger gunned at her.

Marinette snorted. “You’ve definitely nailed down some of that Chat Noir full-of-yourself stuff. Congrats on getting your research done at least.”

“Not research. Just living the life, Pigtails.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Very creative nickname.” She smirked and crossed her arms. “Then again, it’s better than princess or my lady, so I’ll take it.”

“Hey now, Ladybug likes me calling her that, even if she tries to hide it.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Somehow I doubt that. But seriously, whose idea was this? It feels like Alya had a hand in this. I just know it.”

“Why would Alya get me to try to tell you I’m Chat Noir?”

“She never gives up on her ships is all.” Marinette’s eyes went wide and she threw her hands over her mouth. “Forget I said that!”

“But I—”

Her hands went straight for his mouth. “Forget!”

He held his hands up in surrender and she backed off.

“Come on, though. What’s so hard to believe about me being Chat Noir?”

“I just can’t see you and Chat Noir being the same person. You’re both so different!”

“Okay, first off—yeah, I can be quiet sometimes,” Adrien admitted. “But you’ve seen how I am with my friends, when I’m comfortable. I can be just as outgoing as I am in the mask!”

Marinette massaged her temples. “So what, you’re saying you have to be with close friends to be as confident as you are making terrible puns in front of all of Paris?”

“Well, the mask helps a little,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “After all, then I don’t have to think about how what I say will impact the company or get yelled at by my father. I get to just … be wild.” He gave her a timid smile. “I suppose sometimes I go a little overboard, huh?”

Her blush deepened. “Y-yeah. I guess you do sometimes.” She cleared her throat and schooled her expression back into a skeptical one. “Assuming you are Chat Noir, of course.”

“Of course.” Quietly, he added, “You know, Adrien me isn’t the only one who is ... kind. I’ve done it plenty of times in the mask.”

“I mean, yeah, you do the heroics and everything, but I was talking about something—”

“Gentler?” he said with his best Chat Noir grin, which made her eyes widen like saucers. His voice was still barely above a whisper. “Like when I comfort akuma victims or sponsor animal shelters?”

“I—yes, like that,” she admitted in the same soft tone. A little stronger, she poked his chest and gave a small smirk. “But don’t you think Ladybug will be mad that you revealed your identity? You promised not to do that, you know. Assuming you really are Chat Noir.”

“Maybe I should have asked her about it first,” he admitted, even as something tickled at the back of his mind. How did she know about the promises between them? “But I’m sure she’d understand if she knew. The value of love is something we both agree on.”

“I mean, I guess, but—wait, what?”

“And I suppose you’ve noticed how, no matter what side of the mask I’m on, I love to flirt with the person I love?” She gasped, but he just shook his head and laughed. “Finally get there? I mean, I’ve been flirting with you nonstop for like a month.” He smiled. “Maybe you and Ladybug should hang out. The everyday Ladybug and the real-life Ladybug. Both of you can be really dense when it … comes to … realizing … oh my god.”

Adrien saw the exact moment that she realized that he had figured her out. One moment she was watching him attentively. The next, her eyes had widened in panic, her pupils shrinking down to tiny pinpoints. He knew that if he did nothing, she’d start flailing her arms around and denying it.

The distance between them turned to nothing as he leapt toward her, laughing. She grumbled as he pulled her close, squeezing her tight against his chest, but she didn’t try to break free.

“Don’t be so proud of yourself. You only got lucky,” she said as she returned the hug.

“Luck or not, I finally found you … my lady.”

He looked down at her face at the same moment that she looked up into his. A moment laden with meaning passed between them before they both broke down laughing again. At long last, they had finally found each other.

[lunalovvvess]

I JUST mopped

Summary: based off of this ask/answer from @christhebish​ and @himbohargreeves​

Warnings: mentions of blood, cops, guns, and knives

•••

You really didn’t mind being the night shift manager. Really. Sure, the cafe was in a sketchy part of town, and yeah, the odd drunk person threw up on the floor, but you and your crew could handle it.

After all, you handled Rex’s stalker situation, Lisa breaking her water mid-shift, AND the Espresso Machine Fire of ‘17. You could handle a lot, but apparently your mother couldn’t handle going to your cousin’s wedding alone, and insisted you go as her plus one to the wedding. That was in the Appalachian Mountains.

You lost a week of work (thankfully, Rex kept the place running but still), and when you finally trudged back to the cafe, you were just hoping that the floors had been recently mopped. You did not expect to see Rex leaning over the counter, making heart eyes at the guy in the corner booth. You bump shoulders with him in your way past.

“Where’s Kendra?”

Rex finally looks at you.

“Hello to you too. She’s making out with her girlfriend. Don’t worry, she still has like, 10 minutes of her break left. How was the wedding?”

You tie your apron around your waist, double checking to make sure all your stuff was still in the pockets.

“Glad to see things haven’t changed. And the cake was made of fondant.”

Rex scrunches his face as he grabs a spray bottle.

“Gross. And there has been a new change around here.”

You don’t look up from the clipboard in your hands, skimming the supply lists.

“Oh?”

There’s no answer from Rex, but the sound of footsteps approaching the register makes you look up.

The guy from the corner booth is standing at the counter, and he’s, well, you understand Rex’s heart eyes. He also has a nasty looking black eye, but it’s nothing you’ve never seen before. Rex has noticed him by now, and practically skips to take his order.

“What can I get you handsome?”

The guy clears his throat awkwardly.

“Can I, uh, get a coffee?”

You tune out the rest of the conversation, trying to figure out how your crew used a month’s supply of caffeine shots in a week. Did the university have surprise exams again?

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by Kendra’s voice.

“Welcome back. You’ve already seen Rex drooling over the new regular?”

She’s washing her hands as you turn to her.

“Yeah, now mind explaining to me how we’re down a months supply caffeine shots?”

Kendra grins, tightening her apron.

“Okay so remember that robotics contest? Well they suddenly moved their deadline back a week, so we had...”

•••

Things settled back into a routine pretty quickly. You poured coffee, served danishes, kicked out influencers, and generally just tried to make sure the place couldn’t be shut down by the health department. The only addition was the new regular.

Every night, without fail, the guy showed up, usually with a new cut, bruise, or bloodstain, and ordered a coffee. Then, he sat in the corner both, while Rex made lovesick sighs in his direction.

Two days in, you asked him why he didn’t talk to the guy. Rex takes the opportunity to drape himself dramatically over the display case.

“I did! I’ve flirted with him, did the Elle Woods bend n’ snap, I even offered him my number! Do you know what he did?”

You don’t even get to answer before Rex barrels on.

“He didn’t even notice! He told me his phone was broken!”

“And you believed him?”

“Lisa saw him toss a broken phone in the trash in his way in. She didn’t tell me until afterwards and now I’m too embarrassed to face him. Do you think I should transfer to the day shift?”

You roll your eyes, and hand Rex a mop.

“Don’t you dare. If you leave me by myself, I’ll throw away your comic books.”

Rex whines, but he takes the mop.

•••

Thankfully, the crush only lasts another week. Rex gets a glimpse of the new delivery man and has his number three days later.

The regular (no longer new) still comes in, battered and bloodied. But he never got any on the floor so you didn’t mind too much. You were curious, sure, but not enough to be creating theories like Kendra was.

Speaking of Kendra, her break was over 15 minutes ago. You step away from the counter to find her when the regular walks in. Well, limps in.

He looks surprised to see you at the register which is... fair. Usually it’s a fight between Rex and Kendra to take his order. Rex, so he could ogle on the clock, and Kendra, so she could try and confirm whatever theory she’s come up with this week. Thankfully, he doesn’t notice.

You’re staring, specifically at the growing bloodstain on his leg. It’s okay, he’s also staring at you. A beat passes before he clears his throat.

“Can I get a coffee?”

You nod.

“Yeah. That’ll be 3.50.”

He hands you a crumbled up five.

“Keep the change.”

“Thanks.”

Your voice is sarcastic, but his money is genuine, so he gets his coffee and settles himself into his usual booth with a pained grunt.

You, very kindly, ignore it, and go about hunting down your wayward crew member.

•••

You had JUST mopped the floors.

Which is not the best thought to be running through your head during a robbery but there it is. The people holding you and your crew at gunpoint had tracked crud all over the floor. The floor that you literally JUST mopped.

“Eyes on me!”

The gunman in front of you shouts for your attention. You stand in front of your crew, and straighten up. Gently, you move your hand out of Rex’s and untangle Kendra’s hand from your apron ties. They’re scared, and you are too, but this is your place, and you’re not about to let a guy wearing pantyhose over his face tell you what to do.

“Give me all the money in the register!”

You were expecting that, and move towards the register. The guy watches you, but his hands are shaking. His partner is no better, but he still has a gun pointed at your crew.

It’s still early in the shift, so the stack of cash you have for them is... tiny. When you place it on the counter, their jaws drop.

“That’s it?”

You nod.

“Day shift clears out their profits before we get here. This is all we’ve made.”

They don’t like that, and the guy closest to you levels his gun to your face. Your eyes cross trying to look at the barrel.

“Where’s the safe.”

Rex barks out a laugh, but quickly smothers it behind his hands. The gun, and the person holding it, comes closer, pressing against your forehead.

“Why’s he laughing?”

You ignore the cold metal, and focus on keeping the shakes you feel in your hands out of your voice.

“We don’t have a safe.”

You feel the gun press harder against your forehead when the sound of breaking glass draws everyone’s attention.

Before you can see who it was, a knife whizzes past and jabs itself into the arm that’s holding a gun to your forehead. The guy barely has time to scream before another one lands itself in his leg. He drops, and you take the opportunity to duck behind the counter with the rest of your crew.

There’s more screaming, and the sound of punches being thrown, but no gunshots. You peek above the counter, ignoring Kendra’s whispered protests.

A figure in black is grappling with one of two gunmen. The other is yelling and holding his leg... which is bleeding on your floor. Damn it. A grunt draws your attention and you see the person in black take an elbow to the gut. You wince in sympathy.

The other gunmen is attempting to get up now, and you see that your savior(?) has their back turned. You quickly reach for the tip jar, heavy with coins and made of hard plastic , and push it as hard as you can across the counter. Luckily, it rockets across and falls on the gunmen’s head, knocking him out. Even better, it doesn’t break.

The noise catches the attention of the person in black, and when you get a glimpse of his face you have to hold back a yelp. Because you recognize him. You frantically reach behind you and tap your crew.

“Come look, quickly!”

Lisa, the reasonable one, shakes her head and you notice that she’s typing frantically on her phone. Good.

Rex and Kendra squish up beside you, and peek over the counter with caution. Their eyes widen when they see what you’re talking about. There, in a tiny domino mask that does NOTHING to hide his identity, is the regular.

Rex groans, while Kendra cackles (quietly).

“You owe me ten bucks and a frappe!”

You pull them back behind the counter, and Lisa rolls her eyes at the three of you.

“I talked to the owner, and he said that we don’t have health insurance so we should try not to get shot.”

The whoop of a siren interrupts Lisa, and you all groan in unison. There’s the sound of glass crunching, and you peek over the counter and come face to face with the regular. He stares awkwardly, and the police lights shine over his face. You have to stop yourself from asking if he wants his usual. Instead, you smile at him.

“Thanks.”

The regular nods, and looks around. The way he came in now has cops, so you helpfully point to the back entrance.

Lisa taps you to get your attention, and when you look back, he’s gone.

•••

You’re back in business the next day, with plywood over the window and a floor cleaned by the day-shift.

The regular walks in, as usual, and comes up to the register. You’re glad Rex and Kendra took their breaks at the same time, because the regular looks like he’s trying super hard to be casual.

“Can I get a coffee?”

You nod. He pays, gets his coffee, and walks to his normal booth. It’s business as usual, except for the fact that you now know he runs around at night with knives.

You’re so lost in thought that you don’t notice that another person is at the register. They clear their throat and you look up to see them flashing a badge.

“Can I speak to the manager?”

You raise an eyebrow and look down at your name tag that clearly states ‘manager’.

“Speaking. Is this about last night?”

The cop?detective? nods and whips out photo from his pocket.

“We’ve apprehended the suspects but there’s evidence that there was a person of interest on the scene last night.”

You stare at him blankly, until he gives a frustrated huff and practically shoves the photo in your face.

“Have you seen this man?”

You look at the photo. It’s definitely the regular. Rex and Kendra come in while you’re looking, and you turn to them.

“He wants to know if we’ve seen this guy.”

They both look at the photo, and shake their heads. You turn back to him.

“No one’s seen that guy. But we were behind the counter for a bit.”

The man shoved the photo back in his pocket with his badge, red in the face.

“Someone from the station will be in touch.”

He storms out without a glance. Rex and Kendra go to wash their hands and clock back in. You make a cup of coffee, and walk towards the corner booth.

The regular looks up as you get closer. You set the coffee down in front of him.

“I didn’t pay for this.”

Shrugging, you turn to go back to the counter.

“I know. Consider it a thank you.”

You don’t see his reaction, but when you get back to the counter he’s still staring at the coffee in shock.

Heading to the back for your break, you bump shoulders with Rex.

“I told you, the night shift isn’t so bad.”

[pigeontheoneandonly]

Lemongrass

So this was nominally supposed to be about a cooking lesson (loosely prompted by a post from @dr-ladybird), but it came out much more bittersweet and melancholy.

Thanks to @pushingsian for the beta!

NB: In my version of Mass Effect, Nathaly Shepard is vegetarian, and Kaidan Alenko's mother is Thai.

Lemongrass

The haunting quiet of a Canadian night along the Sunshine Coast still kept Shepard awake, even after two months.  She missed the endless creaking of the ship, the muffled voices coming through the hatches and decks, the hum of the drive core lulling her to sleep.  Everyone thought space was silent. She snorted and wrapped her arms around herself as she shivered on the porch, drawing a blanket close like a shawl.  This was silence, this… lonely wilderness.

Footsteps fell soft on the cabin’s wooden floor.  She glanced over her shoulder, and saw Kaidan padding barefoot to the door, still rubbing his eyes.  Her face broke into a smile despite herself, quiet, tired.  “Hey.”

 “It’s cold out here tonight.”  He rubbed his arms.  “Can’t sleep again?”

“You don’t need to get up,” she replied, sidestepping the question. 

He glanced out over the property, towards the coastline a half-acre away.  “It wasn’t this quiet when I bought it.”

This was where he’d sunk his L2 reparations, into this piece of earth, though the house came after the war.  His neighbors weren’t ever sitting in his lap, exactly, but a fair number either hadn’t survived or hadn’t returned.  But the lack of people wasn’t the problem.  “It’s a planet.  It’s never going to be—”

Shepard stopped herself just in time.  But her startled guilty glance, at the near slip, said it all anyway.  His shoulders sank.  “Come inside.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

He put his arm around her and gave her a tug.  “Come inside.”

The door swung shut.  The main room was cozy in a hand-made sort of way.  Kaidan’s mother had sent a seemingly endless stream of crocheted blankets, which now hung off every chair back and piled across the couch.  Shepard made the metal-framed furniture herself in their own backyard.  Kaidan spent his free hours scouring local extranet ads for books, and a coffee maker, lamps, cushions, anything anyone was selling or trading in the mostly cashless post-war economy.  Earth could barely manufacture essentials, much less everyday comforts.

Now he walked over to the small corner defining their kitchen and lit the stove.  She hiked one of those blankets higher on her shoulders.  “What are you doing?”

“You’ll sleep better with something warm in you.”

She joined him, putting her hand on his hip, leaning towards his ear.  “I can think of something warm you could put in me.”

That got her a quick snort of a laugh, as she hoped.  “That just wakes you up more.”

But his brown eyes sparkled in the dim light of the slumbering house. 

She heaved a sigh, but pushed a lock of red hair behind her ear, and switched gears.  “Need a hand?”

Flirtatious interest turned to surprise.  “You want to help me cook.”

“Come on.  I haven’t boiled a pot dry in weeks.”  A touch defensive, but hell, she had been trying.  It wasn’t her fault she never had reason or opportunity to learn to cook.  At this point, her molecular composition verged on 100% military-issue freeze pack meals and MREs.

“That’s true.”  He jerked his head at the cabinet.  “Find me the coconut milk, and the stock.”

Kaidan’s kitchen staples came as something of a surprise.  Beer and bacon she expected.  His mother’s influence, not so much.  Not that she knew a whole lot about Thai food to start with.  “Where do you get this stuff?”

“My mom is friendly with every southeast Asian family in Vancouver.”

“Sure.  But… citrus?”

“You’d be surprised how many people keep a tree in their condo.  I’m negotiating for one, but nobody wants to give it up.”

“It’s just as well.”  She pulled out a box.  “I’ve killed every houseplant I’ve ever had.”

“You’re doing all right with the herb garden.”  Kaidan said it with a straight face, despite them both knowing he did most of the work, especially after he caught her burying leftovers in the dirt to fertilize it.  Gently, he explained about compost, but it still seemed like a load of middle-man work to her.  He also explained about raccoons, which she had to admit had the weight of evidence behind it, in the holes and broken plants they left behind.  But Shepard had learned to water and prune, even fuss over the plants, here and there.  They seemed to enjoy the attention.

What was the other thing?  Stock.  Right.  She opened the fridge and pulled out a plastic jug, the remains of a giant batch Kaidan made last week from all their vegetable scraps.  It had been an experiment, but somehow, all of Kaidan’s kitchen experiments seemed to work out. 

“Put that in the pot,” he said, pointing. 

She complied, with one raised eyebrow.  “Don’t you think this burner is up a little high?”

“It needs to reduce.”  He gave the pot an expert swirl and set it back down.  “We still have mushrooms?”

“I think so.”  They’d stored up too much in the lower drawer.  She sorted through the items.  “What’re we making?”

“Soup.”  He declined to elaborate, and began to slice the mushrooms.  “We’ll also need lemongrass, cilantro, and some of those tiny peppers from outside.”

“You’ll send me out in this cold?” she griped, but she was already reaching for the scissors. 

He put down the knife.  “It’s summer, Nathaly. It’s almost ten degrees outside.  And the garden’s right beside the back door.”

“Anything south of twenty is fucking frigid.”  Pulling the blanket tighter, she headed out.

The moonlight gilded the leaves in silver as Shepard sorted through the huddled plants, trying not to drop the blanket.  Cilantro reminded her of home, the first home she ever had.  Her grandmother grew bales of it in window boxes.  Bending to cut some, she might have been six again, and smiled to herself in spite of the cold.  Or maybe because of it— the Arizona desert took on its own chill at night.

Lemongrass was more foreign.  Its pungency stabbed through the air as she cut it near the dirt, gathering several stalks.  A side of Kaidan she hadn’t known, like the cooking, until recently.  Sure he fixed a few meals in the apartment, back when the apartment was habitable.  Seeing him now, it was clear he’d grown up watching his mother, and absorbed everything she had to teach.  That added new depth to her understanding of the damage BAaT did to his family.  It was easy to sense, lurking there even today, in every interaction between mother and son, but harder to interpret.

When she was done, she returned to the kitchen, and found he’d added tofu, galangal (not ginger, she reminded herself, firmly), the aforementioned limes plus some kaffir lime leaves he’d obtained god-knew-how, and fish sauce to the waiting ingredients.  He smiled as he heard the door shut. 

“Here you are.”  She dumped her handful of fresh produce beside his pile. 

“These look great.  Take this.”  He handed her the spoon.

Shepard held it like a dead mouse.  “Wait a minute—”

He took the lemongrass to the sink.  “Nope. This time, you cook, and I help.  Don’t worry, I’ll walk you through it.”

Everything about this read imminent disaster.  Kaidan noticed her frown, and pushed her arm towards the pot.  “Add the coconut milk.”

It trickled in, aided by her tentative stirring.  She put the spoon down.  “Kaidan, look, cooking… My biggest accomplishment is getting a microwave burrito thawed the whole way through without drying it out.  I know you want to do this whole domestic thing—”

He picked it up and put it back in her hand.  “I have never known you to admit defeat on anything.  What’s going on?  Talk to me.”

She stared into the pot, expressionless face flickering in the burner’s flame. 

Kaidan tried another tact.  “You’re not sleeping.  You barely eat.”

“I…”  She let the spoon go, and slumped over the stove, tiredly.  “I didn’t expect winning to feel like this.”

His face softened.  “That’s because we didn’t win.  We just beat the reapers.”

She brushed some of the hair out of her eyes.  He rubbed her shoulders, left a kiss on her neck.  “Let’s just make soup, ok?  Lemongrass is next.  Smash it first.”

The damp stalks left small puddles on the board as she ran the knife through them, and then upended it and brought the butt of the handle down on each piece, thump thump.  Then the same to the peppers.  The motion was almost comforting; Kaidan made this soup a lot.

Kaidan slid sliced galangal into the pot.  “Your turn.”

Picking up the lemongrass with the blade, Shepard watched it disappear into the white broth, only to bob back up again, filmed with coconut milk.  Already leeching all its intensity and leaving the herb softer, milder, spent; having sprouted and fought through the dirt to the sun, grown tall and proud, only to give up all it made to this.  Because she declared that this was its purpose and its end.

A fistful of bright leaves fluttered down over the lemongrass pieces.  Shepard started.  Kaidan’s brow furrowed, and he touched her arm.  “You sure you’re ok?”

“Yeah,” she said, distantly.  “I’m just tired.”

He watched her a few moments too long for comfort.  “Even the squirrels know that.”

It caught her off guard and she laughed, as he clearly hoped she would.  Just one chuckle.  But it helped. 

“Tofu and mushrooms next,” he prompted.  Shepard gathered them up and dumped them in.

She just about remembered to stir it every so often as they juiced limes and chopped cilantro.  To her endless gratitude, Kaidan took it back to finish it when it came off the burner; she never could get the amount of fish sauce just right.  Somehow, he’d gotten the rice cooker going while she messed with the soup, too.  She liked dumping it all into her bowl with the soup, a practice that never failed to earn her a look of mock-disappointment that was half the reason she kept doing it.

They settled on the couch.  For a few minutes, they ate in the quiet dark of the cabin, lined in moonlight, wrapped in blankets.  Shepard had spent all her life in motion.  Now she was trying to learn how to live with stillness.

The soup-soaked rice felt good in her mouth, something she could bite down on.  Something solid and warm in her stomach.  She hadn’t realized exactly how cold she’d gotten, or how hungry; each spoonful brought a little more color into the room. 

Kaidan sipped at his own bowl, smaller than hers, with a slight smile.  “Feel better?”

She looked down into her nearly-empty bowl, and back up at him.  “How did you know?”

“You skipped dinner.  And lunch.”  His tone just a little too light.  “This isn’t easy for me either, but regularly crashing your blood sugar isn’t helping.”

There was nothing to say to that.  “I don’t know what to do with myself up here.”

“Yeah.” He set his food aside and inched closer to her, settling his arm around her waist.  “You’ve got a stack of requests piling up.”

“Busy work,” she scoffed.

“There’s never going to be another reaper war, and that’s a good thing.”  He gave her a squeeze.  “You’ll just have to subsist without the adrenaline and cortisol, high blood pressure, constant small injuries, and all those other things.”

“Tomorrow.”  It was too complicated to unpack right now.  She set the empty bowl aside.

“Tomorrow,” Kaidan agreed, and pulled her to her feet.  “Now, let’s sleep.”

[slashermom]

Hey not sure how full your requests are so feel free to ignore or take your time, but I wondering if we could maybe get HCs on Vincent reuniting w/ someone from his childhood, like one of the only kids who was actually ever nice to him. And maybe now that they’re all grown up he has a crush uwu??? Thank you!!!

Ah childhood friends... my weakness (Nothing scary under the cut just didn’t wanna clog up your dash! Merry Christmas Eve!)

You lived in one of the apartments near the main stretch and would always go to the Sinclair’s to play.

Let’s make this clear, Vincent definitely had the biggest crush on you and would get teased by Bo about it all the time.

You were the balance between the twins before Lester came around.

Your ability to keep up with Bo’s rough and tough nature but tone it back when it came to hanging out with Vincent was key on making the most of your adventures with them.

From the beginning, you and Vince always seemed to flow well together. You kept him on his toes and he kept you anchored.

Besides his mother, Vincent only showed his drawings to you. You were the only one who seemed to appreciate them. Plus he wanted to impress you.

Pinky promises were a big thing between you guys.

That’s how you got him to take off his mask in the first place. You had seen glances of his face when he’s getting ready to go out the door. (His mom liked to see his face when he was home.) But never truly seen what all the fuss was about.

You pinky promised that you wouldn’t laugh or get scared if he took his mask off and you always made good on your pinky promises so he felt confident enough to show you.

“It’s not even that bad, you really don’t even need a mask. You can take it off whenever you want around me, I won’t judge you. Pinky promise!”

So from that moment on, he would take off his mask when it was just you two. He didn’t think his face was something to be happy about but it made you happy when he took it off and he so desperately wanted to make you happy.

You two used to talk about how when you were old enough you were gonna help him run the House of Wax.

Him the great artist and you the lovely manager and tour guide.

But these dreams were left to rot after Trudy and Victor died.

The last time Vincent saw you was when he caught a glimpse of you running up the hill to his house right before he was shoved into the back of a car headed to the orphanage.

Looking out the back window he saw you yelling at someone to tell you what happened. Trying to push past two men and get to Lester who was trying to reach out to Bo who was putting up a hell of a fight.

He never got to see if you managed to reach one of his brothers before the car pulled away and left his home town.

Vincent thought about you a lot when he was in the system. About how when he finally left this place and went home how happy he would be to see you and vice versa.

You were one of the things that got him through those dark times.

So you can only imagine the sadness and heartbreak when he came back to Ambrose and ran up the steps of your apartment to find it had been abandon for years.

As the years dragged on Vincent had questions.

Where had you gone? Who was with you? Were you happy? Did you miss him? Did you even think about him?

All questions he thought that would never be answered untill a new visitor pulled into town.

Bo had yelled at him from the top of the basement steps to ‘haul ass’ and Vincent flew up the steps fully expecting another group of rowdy tourists.

But instead was surprised to see an unfamiliar figure looking at old pictures. Well, unfamiliar until you turned around at the sound of creaking floorboards.

You two recognized each other almost instantly. He knew those eyes like the back of his hand.

It was like seeing a ghost. Your breath caught in your throat and heart stuttering in your chest as your face broke out into a ginormous smile. It wasn’t long before you broke the distance.

You used to be about the same height as him when you were kids but even with the very apparent height difference now you still gave the same protective and loving hugs.

Vincent was quick to squeeze back. Afraid if he let go too soon you would vanish into thin air and he would be stuck wondering what happened to you again. He won’t go through that again.

After the very long overdue hug that Vincent is pretty sure restored his life source, Bo had chimed in that you should stay for a drink.

So there the three of you were, sitting in the kitchen reminiscing about your childhood days. You had your legs stretched out under the table across Vincent’s lap as you laughed at something Bo said.

Vincent couldn’t say he was really listening. His focus was still caught on the fact that you’re really here. The more and more he looked at you he could tell you hadn’t changed a single bit.

The same kind ways, the vivacious laugh, your quirks, all the things that made up you when you were a kid still shone through.

Vincent brought his hands off the table where he had them placed nervously to rest them on the legs spread across his lap. Rubbing up and down the expanse with his thumb.

You didn’t seem to mind so he continued. You were always leaning on him back then so his actions were practically muscle memory.

The air was light-hearted and familiar until the sound of a truck pulling up sent Bo into a frenzy to get to the window.

Wondering what his problem was, you looked at Vincent with raised eyebrows. He only shrugged and continued to stare at you from behind his mask.

You began wondering how much he looked like Bo. Wondering if he’d be willing to leave the mask behind as he did back then.

Your thoughts were cut short by the sound of the front door opening and a scruffy looking young man walking in; which you recognized as Lester immediately.

Scrambling to get up and hug the dirty rascal you removed yourself from Vincent’s space and rushed up to Lester. Almost instantly, Vincent missed your warmth and weight.

After that little reunion, you all sat back down and began talking again. Only this time you didn’t have your legs on Vincent and he was stuck wondering how to get close to you once again without looking desperate.

You had explained to the boys that you moved shortly after they had left. Many people left Ambrose after Trudy and Victor died. The town really wasn’t much without the wax museum running. Which explains why when the Sinclairs returned it was slim pickings for new wax figures.

You also explained that you were only stopping into town as a goodbye. You were getting ready for a big move to a new job and wanted to get one last look at the place. The boys were the last people you were expecting to see.

The brothers all shared a look as you talked about leaving Ambrose. You had only just got here, you weren’t about to leave so soon.

Bo began breaking out the hard stuff in hopes you wouldn’t pass him up. Knowing it he got you drunk enough you at least wouldn’t make the drive tonight.

He was right, and a few hours later you were crashed on the couch with an old blanket.

Bo left the house and went down to your car to make sure it wasn’t going to be going anywhere anytime soon and Lester went home for some much-needed rest. Leaving Vincent to observe you all over again.

He couldn’t describe the feeling he got when he looked at you. Nostalgia? Safety? Love? Maybe it was all of them but what he did know is that he hadn’t felt these things in a very long time.

The three of them had come up the astonishing lie that they were turning Ambrose into a complete tourist attraction; that they were taking Trudy’s dream one step further.

Which it wasn’t a total lie... But it wasn’t the total truth either. It was just something to keep you unsuspecting of all the wax figures scattered around town.

You would stay with the Sinclairs for the next few days while your car was being ‘repaired’. Within those few days, Vincent felt himself grow attached to you all over again.

Everything he did he thought of you. Maybe you would like to join him and Jonesy for a walk or check out some of his smaller pieces of art? Truth be told, he just wanted to make up for lost time but didn’t want to annoy you.

Vincent was actually surprised when you came into the House of Wax looking for him. You began reminiscing about how you used to play in here even though you were chastised not to every time. You even brought up how you two used to think you were gonna run this place together.

We could, Vincent thought to himself. You’re here now, what’s stopping us?

“You know you don’t have the wear that thing around me. You never had to... Will you take it off for me? I won’t look at you any different just because you grew up. Pinky promise.”

His mind was no longer sending out actions. He just stood there looking at your outstretched pinky astonished. After a couple of deep breaths and some nervous shuffling of feet, he reached up and removed the mask.

You sighed happily at see how he grew into a handsome young man. You wondered if he knew that he was beautiful.

“There’s my Vincent.”

Yours he truly was because in the few days since you had returned his childhood crush on you had returned in full force.

Anything you wanted, he’ll give to you. Just please, stay here with him. Don’t leave again. He’s had enough of loosing people and things being out of his control. He has an opportunity to make you stay and he’ll do what he must to keep you in Ambrose.

[janus-stanus]

Takes a villain to play a villain: a Sanders Sides story idea

So, I was scrolling through Sanders Sides blogs, as you do, and came across a short audio clip of when Thomas played JD in that one Heathers the musical production in 2015.

And my brain just kinda... went off.

Cause like, we just had a Sanders Sides episode where we saw just how much Roman cares about Thomas being a good person, plus the whole “I thought I was your hero” thing, and it’s been demonstrated throughout the series that Roman heavily ties his sense of self and self-worth to his work, Thomas’s creative endeavors, and... it made me wonder... how did Roman feel about playing the bad guy? How did he handle immersing himself in that role for weeks at a time?

Perhaps he got a little help.

My first thought was Remus - but while I think he could and would have given Roman plenty of pointers (requested or not), I also think he’d be a bit too chaotic to properly hone his talents and do something like, say, take over for Roman for a day.

My immediate follow-up was: But you know who could?

Now we’re here. Click the read more if you want to listen to me ramble about the time when Janus periodically impersonated Roman so that Thomas could play JD. And hey, if you wanna take this stuff or even just the basic premise and make an actual fic out of it, uh, please do? All I ask is that you @ me in it and give me credit for the original idea.

It starts one day when Roman is “sleeping in”, probably because of rehearsal going poorly the previous day, and as Thomas is heading to practice tensions in the mindscape are rising. Remus is itching for the chance to jump in and take over, but Janus reasons that giving him the creative reigns at this point can only end poorly. Yet, someone needs to take on the task, or Thomas might just lose his first big theatrical role.

So Janus, somewhat hypocritically, decides to do it himself. And, considering it’s his first time genuinely trying to impersonate one of the others for an extended period of time, and that he hasn’t properly interacted with the “light sides” in years (just observed), it goes... surprisingly well. He’d only been hoping to be passable, but he actually gets into the character, impressing not just the other actors, but Logan and Patton. Sure he almost gives the whole thing away a few times, but, at least as far as he can tell, he gets away with it. More than that, it’s fun; the most fun he’s had in God knows how long. 

Of course, Roman finds out later (maybe from Remus), and quickly confronts Janus about it. It’s either in this conversation, or after the next day of rehearsals when Roman finds himself not living up to some of the expectations Janus set the previous day, that they make The Bet. Essentially, Roman gets to be himself at rehearsals for two days, and then for the next two days, Janus takes over. Rinse and repeat until one concedes that the other is a better fit for the role (or until Janus gets caught and cast out).

Now the reason I’m not writing this as a fic myself is because I have no clue what shenanigans to put in this middle section, other than maybe Roman calling Janus out for staying disguised as him and hanging out with Logan and Patton outside of rehearsal one time. There are some broad ideas that I think would be fun to explore, so I’ll just list them out and leave you to do what you will with them:

Janus getting to be at the helm for probably the first time ever and fully embrace his theater kid side (heh, side), planting the seeds for him to decide a few years later to no longer keep Thomas ignorant of the “ugliness within” him

Oh, and there’s Janus’s feelings about being seen by Thomas for the first time in years, though he’s in disguise

Drawing parallels between Janus and JD, with their views on society and the ugliness of the world, and their love for “funny wholesome pranks” as a form of vengeance

(plus stuff that won’t come into play until a few years down the line - like, imagine Janus singing the last few lines of Meant to be Yours post Virgil leaving... oh, and that one bit where JD talks about “Ich Lüge” bullets; when I remembered that I immediately thought of a fancomic I saw where Janus gets fed up with the others and insults them in German. funny coincidence)

Roman generally being insecure and trying his best

How does Roman occupy himself while Janus is being him? Does he hang with the “dark sides”? Or does he get up to stuff on his own?

The initial bitter rivalry between Roman & Janus becoming less bitter as they start sharing tips with each other, maybe even practicing with each other, because at the end of the day they both want Thomas to succeed above all else

(not that Roman will fully admit to himself that Janus truly wants that too, because, well. “if our goals aligned with his, what would that say?” no, he’s just being fair to Janus, because he’s the good guy here, that’s all.)

Remus joining in on that, and potential angst from him being passed over, but also the opportunities for him to unleash chaos without Janus there to keep him in check

Virgil experiencing what it’s like to be left behind for the “light sides” before he pulled the same maneuver

Logan and Patton catching on to the deception, because of course they would, and eventually confronting Janus about it

And lastly, consider this: one of the ways Janus is able to do the role better than Roman is when it comes to pretending to be straight. Because... not to get too into a whole other headcanon/theory of mine, but... let’s just say it’s something Janus has experience with.

Now, if I were actually writing this fic, I would have Roman slowly come to the conclusion that Janus being the creative drive for this role is what’s best for Thomas, as much as every part of him hates it, and concede to Janus. Thus, we get a mostly downer ending for Roman, who has learned from the experience and even bonded with Janus a bit but is now at the level of insecurity we’ve seen recently from him in canon; and a bittersweet ending for Janus, who had the time of his life playing the role but ending up hurting Roman (and some of the others, knowingly or not) in the process, and now has to go back to keeping his very existence a secret, indefinitely.

That all being said, if someone else wants to write this scenario but have it end with Janus conceding to Roman instead, that could work just as well. Or have them work together in some way if you’re not a fan of unhappy endings. It all depends on how you want to distribute your angst.

I’ll leave it there for now. I hope those who read this far got some enjoyment out of it. I’m gonna go back to working on my actual fic ideas now.

[somefinelipstickonthatpig]

Of Dreams and Memory Zestiria // AtlA AU // Oneshot #9

[Read on AO3]

As the gang begins to infiltrate the Fire Nation in order to save Muse, surprising revelations come to light.

tw // mentions of physical abuse

- o - o - o -

A frantic gasp shatters the silence of the fire prince’s bedchamber. Prince Sergei’s arms shake behind him, sweat beading along his brow. His chest rises and falls with every breath, entirely too warm even without a shirt to cover it; his blanket pools around his hips, also entirely too much. Instinct makes him kick his feet over the side of his bed, shoving his covers aside. His eyes dart through the shadows, but in the night, everything is still and calm. Tranquil. His balcony doors are still shut and bolted. The long curtains don’t rustle. 

With a withering sigh, he hides his face in his hands.

“Just a dream,” he lies to himself. “Nothing more. No need to lose yourself over this, Sergei.”

The past is meant to remain in the past.

…and yet. 

He can still recall with perfect clarity the twist of his stomach at a singular raised hand twelve years ago. Admittedly, the imprint the image had left on him has always struck him as strange. Why does such a thing affect him when he himself had fallen under the shadow of that hand so many times?

Maybe it was his tears, he thinks. Or perhaps it took finally seeing it happen to someone else to awake in me—something like empathy.

Ironic, Sergei thinks, as he uncurls and tilts back his head to his ceiling. 

The canopy above his bed is the same as it has always been for so many years.

“I haven’t had that dream in a decade,” Sergei murmurs. Which leaves one more important question, as tangible as the sweat he can feel beading down his temple. It draws a thin line down from his brow to his neck. 

Why now?

- o - o - o -

“Do I have to?” 

Dezel’s stance doesn’t change in the slightest. His extended hand remains pressed against Sorey’s chest, frown firm on his face. 

Finally, with a heavy sigh, Sorey caves. He reaches up to his ears. “But I like them.”

“And right now, those feather earrings are one of your biggest identifying factors,” Mikleo huffs. His arms cross over his chest and watches as the earrings pass from Sorey’s hands to Dezel’s. The tension in his shoulders doesn’t fall until Dezel finally pockets the earrings in Gramps’ travel bag. “If we actually want to sneak through the Fire Nation, then we need to make sure there’s no possible way anyone will recognize you. Now, for your hair.”

“First Atakk, then my earrings—now I have to take off my hair, too?!”

Mikleo rolls his eyes and play-punches Sorey’s arm. He fights the smile that wants to crawl on his face at the teasing and all-too-telling grin on Sorey’s face. “No. Idiot. We’re just wrapping your head. Word is spreading about your crazy hair. This scarf should do the trick.”

Sorey grins. “Should I be flattered? Ah, what the heck.” With one final sigh, he bows, head shoved towards Mikleo’s chest. “Might as well get it over with. Want to do me the honors?”

“I suppose.”

- o - o - o -

When Lailah hears dusty footsteps behind her, she turns and gasps widely, happily. “Why, Sorey! You’re hardly recognizable!” 

“Well, I think you’re being nice, but thanks anyway!” Sorey grins cheekily. For good measure, he gives a spin. The small tail of his yellow scarf, peeking out from where it’s tucked in at the nape of his neck, bounces with the rock of his weight. “How do I look?”

“Like a true citizen of the Fire Nation!” she hums and claps her hands together.

Sorey laughs and scratches the back of his neck. “Oh, uh, you think so…?”

Lailah nods. “All of you do!”

Dezel hums and brings up the rear of their party. When he holds out Zenrus’ bag, Sorey takes it and loops it over his head gratefully. Of all, Dezel seems the most uncomfortable in the reds and deep blacks and browns of the Fire Nation jacket and pants hanging loose around his figure. “Then let us reunite with the Sparrowfeathers as quickly as possible. We should thank them for procuring us these garbs.”

Sorey looks up at Dezel, both hands wrapped around the bag strap. “You think Rose and Eguille made it into the palace okay?”

“They’re professionals, Sorey.”

“Yeah, and I know you said that before, but I still don’t fully get how that’s supposed to make me feel better.”

“It means,” Dezel hums and walks past Sorey and out of the alleyway into the street. “That it should have been obvious to you long ago that selling imports isn’t the only business the Sparrowfeathers partake in.”

Sorey still doesn’t know what to make of that. 

Before he can follow his teacher out onto the street, Lailah puts a hand on his shoulder. “Sorey—listen. There’s one last thing we have to take care of before we depart. We need to change our names.”

Sorey’s eyes widen. “Everyone’s names?”

“W-well, most of the others should be fine, actually!” There’s a falter in Lailah’s voice Sorey hasn’t heard before, a hitch in speech that twists Sorey’s stomach and zeroes his attention on her, wondering if there’s something in her words he missed that he should have paid attention to. Something he should understand or know but doesn’t. “Rose and the others are from the Fire Nation already. Their names are fine. Mikleo and Dezel aren’t too obvious detractors. But you and I…well, just to be safe, we should call each other by different names until we’re out of the Fire Nation.”

“Really?” Sorey frowns. “Why? Do so many people know the Avatar’s name already…?”

“W-well—it’s—it’s just in case! You know? A precautionary measure. Yes!” 

And there it is again. That wobbly uncertainty.

Sorey watches Lailah for a long moment. Lailah has always been difficult to read, always smiling even in situations when Sorey isn’t entirely certain she should smile. When finally he nods, he doesn’t miss the relieved sigh that slips out of her. 

“Okay, so, we’ll go with something simple,” Lailah says, “There are many good names out there, so I’ll let you decide which one you want to use while we’re here…”

- o - o - o -

Boris doesn’t anticipate finding Sergei staring off into space at the window when he first walks in the crown prince’s quarters. At first, he turns around to duck his head out into the hall to make sure he’s walked into the right room before he turns around and observes his brother’s dazed profile. 

Huh.

Perhaps he can capitalize on this.

“Looks like someone still needs sleep,” Boris begins and clasps his arms behind his back, striding forward with long, lazy steps.

Sergei blinks, jumps, and turns. The instant he sees Boris, however, whatever fright had tensed his figure just as quickly slips away. He pinches the bridge of his nose and makes a sound low in his throat. “Oh. It’s just you.”

“Just me?” Boris scoffs and places a hand over his chest. He staggers back a step. “Ugh! You wound me, brother.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

Boris laughs, but when Sergei doesn’t join in, the smile fades. He strides closer to slap a hand over Sergei’s shoulder. “Wow. You’re out of it. What, did you wake up on the wrong side of bed?” 

“You could say that.”

Sergei’s voice is a quiet murmur. 

It reminds Boris faintly of a barren desert. Dry and wistful, waiting for the slightest chance of rain. What a morbid comparison, he can’t help but think: to compare his brother to a lifeless ground. Boris shakes his head and squeezes Sergei’s shoulder instead. “Well, I can tell something is troubling you.”

“Of course it is,” Sergei mutters. “There’s always a great many number of things troubling me.”

Boris rolls his eyes. “Now who’s being dramatic?”

“I simply—” 

It’s not the first time that Boris has seen Sergei’s eyes mist over. Sergei, for all of his stiff manners and rigid posture, has always had the more tender, weepy heart. He cries much more easily than his twin.

But it is the quickness of it, the suddenness of those wet eyes, that draws Boris up short.

“—he’s out there, Boris,” Sergei whispers tightly. “We know this, now. We know he is there. Somewhere. After all this time…and I had every opportunity to hold him again and lost it. How can such a thing make me as happy as much as it hurts me?”

Boris doesn’t need to ask who.

“Do you think he will ever know?”

He squeezes Sergei’s shoulder again. “I can’t say, brother.”

Boris doesn’t know what to make of the silence that follows. Is it mournful? Hopeful? Expectant? Or is it something else entirely?

- o - o - o -

“S—Daija! Hey! Don’t run ahead so fast!”

Sorey grins and spins around. “Ah-ah-ah! You almost slipped, Mikleo!”

“No thanks to you!” Mikleo scowls. “What are you doing, running around like you own the marketplace?”

“There’s food to eat, Mikleo! I’m starving! Plus, I haven’t had any of this stuff in like, ages, so I’m super excited to eat it again.” Sorey’s hands are tight around the bag strap over his shoulder. He’s practically running in place as he waits for Mikleo, Lailah, and Dezel to catch up. “Besides, what else are we supposed to do while we wait for Rose and Eguille? I remember there used to be these delicious roasted komodo chicken kabobs with lots of different veggies between ‘em—I don’t even remember what they were! But they were so good! I wonder if we can find some…” 

Mikleo’s face tightens. “Yeah?”

“Yeah!” Sorey continues breezily. He splays a hand out, looking around at the food stalls they pass by, where fruit of various sizes and shapes sit on display. There’s a salty, savory smell in the air and Sorey breathes his lungs full of it. “Man! I haven’t eaten some of this stuff in ten years! This takes me back!”

Mikleo bites his lip. Idly, he scratches at one arm with the fingers of his opposite hand. “It does, huh…?” He catches sight of the palace walls, further down the marketplace. 

Above their heads, giant banners dangle in the air, red and gleaming. Their golden trim catches the light, framing the illustriously painted silhouette of a bearded, fire-crowned man who Mikleo has no doubt is Fire Lord Heldalf himself.

And with that face literally hanging over us, still he smiles?

“Is that…a good thing?” Mikleo hedges.

Sorey jerks around. His green eyes stretch wide.  “Huh?”

Suddenly, it’s very hard for Mikleo to meet those eyes. He crosses his arms around his middle. “I mean…you never…”

What am I trying to say here?

“You never talked a lot about what life was like for you in the Fire Nation before you and Gramps came to the South Pole. So I guess I always thought you hated it. Or you didn’t remember it.” And maybe, some part of a very young and impressionable Mikleo had enjoyed being able to be part of a positive change in a friend’s life and took pride, even, in the possibility that his home was the better home for Sorey. “Was I wrong?”

“What?” Sorey blinks and shakes his head quickly. “No! I—”

Sharply, Sorey looks away, too.

Mikleo watches him for a long moment. His chest twinges. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No, it’s okay. You’re right.” Sorey shrugs but there’s something in his eyes that is far-away as if trying to recall something that he’s long forgotten. “I don’t remember everything, but what I do remember from over ten years ago isn’t…that great. I guess I just didn’t want to think about those parts. Y’know?”

Mikleo steps closer. He squeezes Sorey’s hand. “Yeah.”

Sorey smiles.

Mikleo tilts his head. “So…can I ask…?”  

“Ask what?”

“About what you do remember?” 

Sorey hitches a breath and looks away. “Uh—well, I—”  

“It’s the Fire Lord!”

“Fire Lord Heldalf!”

“He’s coming!”

Sharply, immediately, a commotion breaks out further down the street. Sorey and Mikleo share one look and jerk back as a procession clears the way, quick to hide behind the thinning edge of the crowd as a palanquin approaches. Mikleo holds tight to Sorey, as an ornate, golden palanquin is carried down the center of the street. 

It’s plush, regal. Upholstered with only the finest satin and cotton. The heavy, dark curtains are pulled back with golden ropes, and through the posts, and holes in the honeycomb half-walls, the stern, wide profile of the Fire Lord can be seen, his thick, dark beard curling over his chest. 

“Make way for Fire Lord Heldalf!” the attendants ahead of the palanquin shout, their backs straight and rigid, arms extended.

“Daija!” Lailah’s voice calls from far away, a worried note in her pitch.

Oh.

Time might have stopped.

Maybe it did.

About what you do remember, Mikleo had asked.

“I—” 

The Fire Lord doesn’t glance at them. Nothing in his stern countenance shifts as his palanquin is carried by. The frown on his square face doesn’t budge; his eyes stare at nothing. Perhaps they are nothing to him; all of them. 

But for just a moment, he is closer than he has been in ten years.

And it is enough.

Mikleo squeezes his hand. “Daija?”

The palanquin has passed.

Sorey blinks once, twice, and thinks he can remember plenty. “I know that face.”

“What?”

“I know—” 

A raised voice out of an angry face. There were always so many lines digging into the skin high above the man’s brow and around his mouth. It had always looked as if his face had been distorted, every time he would spit, No true son of mine would ever turn out to be a lowly nonbender—and it hurt, it hurt, so much that all Sorey could think of at the time to say over and over again, prostrating himself, was, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Dad—

“Bergs!” 

Sorey stumbles back.

Mikleo clasps his hands around his arms, eyes wide. A pale moonface flooding his vision. “So—Daija! Are you okay?! What’s wrong?” 

Sorey raises his eyes. Immediately, Lailah and Dezel are there, squeezing closer through the massive press of people around them. Her hands flutter towards him first before threading together in front of her stomach, shaking. Her fingers are clutched so tightly, her skin burns a brighter, pallid white.

“I think…” the Fire Sage says quietly and slowly, “…we should find a place to sit.”

- o - o - o -

The door opens with a creak, loud enough to break Sergei out of his reverie. He lifts his head from his fist as a young soldier strides in and respectfully bows. His eyes dart down to the reports and maps scattered across the table in front of him that he hasn’t been paying attention to all morning. 

What will Father say when he knows what little work I’ve managed to finish?

With a tight wince, Sergei rubs his forehead.

The soldier remains bowed even as her voice—unfamiliar to him—rings out: “A message for you, Crown Prince.”

“Oh?” Sergei waves her forward. “I won’t ask who it’s from. It’s undoubtedly Father again with another matter he wants me to address while he’s out. Bring it here, then.”

As she steps forward with the scroll held out, Sergei takes a glance up and takes in the strange, unfitting way the uniform falls over the young woman’s form. She’s short; the armor looks like it would have fit better on someone two sizes taller. 

“Are you a new recruit?” he asks as he takes the extended scroll.

The soldier ducks her head. “Yes. I’ve not yet been in the service for two weeks, your highness.”

“Mm.” Sergei nods. That explains it. His fingers catch on the edge of the scroll as he begins to distractedly unroll it. “When you can, inform your superior officer that the Crown Prince approves of you being fitted for more comfortable armor. I’d hate for you to be encumbered thusly by ill-fitting attire and unable to perform your duties.”

“Oh—” The soldier flounders for a second, her mouth flapping uselessly. Not for the first time, Sergei finds he hates the Fire Nation helmets that obscure half of every soldier’s face. A strand of red hair tickles her cheek, peeking out beneath the cover of her helmet. “Thank you, sir.”

Sergei nods and lifts a hand. “Dismissed.”

For a woman wearing armor much too large for her, she does not haste in making her departure. 

The scroll unrolls quickly in Sergei’s hands. His eyes fall upon the end first—a habit he has always had since he was a child, eager to see who sent the message before reading its contents—but as soon as he sees the name Sorey in scratchy, misshapen letters, inked at the bottom, he freezes.

He jerks up so fast, his knees catching on the edge of his table, nearly upending it and spilling papers and figures and quills to the floor. With little care for anything that has fallen, Sergei launches himself to the door and opens it wide.

“Wait!” he shouts into the hallway.

Only the men already standing guard jerk to attention.

Even when they search the entire palace, the redheaded soldier with the too-big armor is nowhere to be seen. 

- o - o - o -

Sorey sits on a large wooden shipping box, his back to a stone wall, holding his face in his hands. He hasn’t moved for several moments, bent and silent. Mikleo hovers at his shoulder, violet eyes traveling over the other faces of their small party as they wait. For a moment, he wonders if he’s the only one who missed what had transpired on the street. Lailah and Dezel’s faces both are unreadable: Lailah’s pinched and Dezel’s frowning.

“Are…you all right, Sorey?” Mikleo murmurs.

Sorey sighs tightly. 

“You remember now, don’t you?” Lailah says quietly. 

Sorey doesn’t answer. 

“I must admit, when I first met you, I had thought it strange you acted like you didn’t know at all, but…I don’t know. I figured you were young. Perhaps you forgot. Memory can be a fickle thing.”

“Remember what?” Mikleo asks. “What is it he’s supposed to remember?”

Finally, for the first time in several minutes, he speaks—and when he does, it’s defeated. Quiet. “That I’m a Fire Prince.”

Mikleo freezes. “You…” He spins on Sorey, body numb. “Wait, what?”

Sorey’s fingers press hard into his eyes before his hands fall.

This time, when he says it, he meets Mikleo’s gaze head on. “I’m a Fire Prince, Mikleo. Crown Prince Sergei and Fire Prince Boris, they’re my brothers. And Fire Lord Heldalf…I…he’s…he’s my father.” 

[ravenwritesstuff]

Best Laid Plans (10/?)

Fandom: Frozen (modern AU, no magic) Pairings: Helsa, established Kristanna, Rapunzel/Eugene, lotsa frohana Rating: T for now, M later almost for sure A/N: Fun fact about why it takes me so long to write stuff. I write everything out of order. The very first scene I wrote of this fiction is in this chapter.

She cannot help but be wary. She has seen what happens when Hans Westergaard shows what he wants and she is all too familiar with that heat and tension. Her body tightens in anticipation of what he means, and does her best to hide her apprehension behind professionalism.

"While I am sure we all are thrilled with the mystery of your offer, it really is critical that we establish exactly what you want as quickly as we can as our timeline is so limited." 

She has never had a client be so withdrawn about their event or purpose before. Most clients could not wait to throw ideas and concepts and colors in her direction or instead all the things they didn’t want. So far she knows he liked the wedding because they danced and that he likes the ocean. She is in no way prepared for an event where that is the center. His lack of forthcoming throws her off balance and makes her irritable. She is not sure if it is just the Hans Westergaard way or if she is actually losing control of the situation. Whatever it is, she does not like it, but she hides her discomfort behind a Mona Lisa smile.

"Of course. Which is why I am going to show it to you as soon as I can. But it will require the wearing of swimsuits and the ability to swim. Are you all up to the occasion?” He is in full showman now, the elegant host, and while she feels more at ease when he is in this space she also likes it less. The conflict leaves her with feelings she promptly ignores and shoves down beneath the mental checklists ticking through her mind. 

“Per your vague instructions I believe we are all prepared for a swim,” she looks around at her team to get their confirmation even though she knows they all packed accordingly. “But really we have so much to cover. I think it will be best if we work through a few more steps before we get distracted.”

“Oh this is not a distraction. I promise.” He peers out over the ocean, shielding his eyes to make out something. “We have ten minutes before we need to get suited up so let’s talk until then.” He leans back and sips his coffee. “I would love to hear more from the team personally. Why do you all do what you do? What part of the events you manage is your favorite?” 

It is an unconventional question, but what other kind can she expect from Hans Westergaard? 

She watches as the team all look at each other with puzzled expressions and she is glad that at least this time she is not the only one befuddled by what Hans Westergaard has to say. 

“I mean - I guess my favorite thing is that I get to work with my family.” Anna chimes in first, smiling at Elsa and Kristoff. “We make a great team and I don’t know many families that can say that!” She turns to Rapunzel and Eugene as well. “And I’ve gained new family members I never knew before. So it is a win all around.”

“As someone deeply acquainted with the complications of family - I appreciate that Anna.” 

It is strange to hear her sister’s name on his lips, to see him smile at her and smile in return. 

Anna nudges Kristoff with her elbow and he grunts before offering:

“I get to work with my hands and make my wife happy. Not much better than that.” He chuckles when Anna throws her arm across his stomach and side hugs him. “Plus there is something awesome when a client sees you build the thing they wanted just like they wanted. Makes you feel like Santa or something.”

“The tables and altar at Eric’s weddings were incredible. You made those?”

Kristoff tilts his head, not one to enjoy outright praise, and then nods. 

Hans returns his nod with a smile. “Excellent work. Truly. I have ideas for you.”

Elsa sees an opportunity and cuts in: “We would love to hear more about those ideas so we can really talk them over and -”

“Hold on,” Mister Westergaard holds up his hand and focuses on the petite brunette across from him. “What is your favorite part of planning events?”

“Oh. I love weddings and I know you aren’t planning a wedding, but they are my favorite.” Rapunzel’s eyes widen. “But my favorite part of my favorite weddings is the kiss. You can totally tell who is going to make it and who isn’t by the kiss. When the groom really kisses the bride - or bride kisses the bride - or groom and groom - oh you get it. When they kiss them in the way that you can almost feel it from the back row… yeah. That’s my favorite part because I know we did something to give them their happily ever after.”

Leave it to Rapunzel would say something fantastical. Never mind that it has absolutely nothing to do with her role in the company or what is at the heart of their events, but it is water under the bridge. Elsa sniffs.

“Is everything okay?” It is Mister Westergaard. He is arching his brow in the most annoying fashion because it makes her stomach flutter and her mouth go dry and she screwed up. She drew attention to herself at the worst time possible.

“Don’t mind her.” Rapunzel interjects before Elsa can even force a smile. “It’s just that Elsa has never really been kissed.” She smiles a little too broadly at her boss before looking at Eugene (who is honestly at a loss). 

Elsa is flummoxed by the comment and she can practically see the mischief dancing across Rapunzel’s features. She is living for this, needling her like the second younger sister she never had. Anna is hiding laughter behind her strawberry lemonade where Kristoff’s eyes are wider than she has ever seen them. 

She cannot even look at Hans Westergaard. 

Eugene clears his throat and swoops in while Elsa’s mind sputters at Rapunzel’s brazenness.

“Well to be completely honest I had a bit of a rough start. I didn’t exactly use my super negotiation skills for good, but Elsa gave me an opportunity to do what I do in a productive way and that is what I enjoy the most. I like knowing I can con a deal for my client,” it is a joke and they all force a laugh. “Plus I like parties.”

Even Hans Westergaard manages a smirking chuckle without all of Eugene’s history. Chances are he has files on all them from some sort of private detective or something invasive like that anyway. There is no need for elaboration.

“So what about you, Hans?” Anna says, sipping her drink, deflecting from what was to inevitably be Elsa’s turn to share. “Why E&A Events? What do we bring to the table that you want for your event?”

Elsa could hug her sister for the segway. 

Anything to focus past the horrendous mess Rapunzel insisted on introducing and keep Elsa from having to answer Hans’ time wasting question.

Hans looks at them all and smiles. It is wide and easy, like he has never had any other job besides smiling at them and his response makes her boil. She hates his smile, his calm, that he had somehow gotten her on this ship where her insides are being flipped and churned and turned upside down. 

“I want you because you are unexpected,” he says matter-of-factly. “You aren’t what I thought I would want but somehow you are exactly, wholly, and perfectly what I need right now.” 

Elsa does not need to look up from her tablet to know he is speaking directly to her. She can feel his gaze as sure as she can feel the hammering pulse in her throat. It takes her best efforts to  take rein of her stampeding thoughts and draw a deep breath.

“That is very nice of you to say Mister Westergaard,” she pretends to be very busy taking notes on her tablet. “We are excited to dive into the particulars about why you chose us but right now I think the question we all have is just what exactly we are endeavoring to initiate.” 

He nods and looks again at the horizon just as the ship’s pace slows dramatically. His smile spreads. He looks back at them.

“You’re about to find out. It is time to suit up.”

….

Elsa put on her incredibly conservative one piece in the stark privacy of a marble and gold bathroom. The couples were given other rooms and while she knows the lighting is not flattering all she can do is look at flaws in the mirror. The suit had been specifically chosen because it did not show any of her scars. The navy suit had no cut outs, barely scooped below her collarbones and shoulder blades. The suit is made out the same fabric that swim athletes use. It compresses every inch it encases but it covers everything and is not flashy in the slightest. 

She had told Anna and Rapunzel to leave the bikinis at home.

She hopes they had or else her suit is going to look impossibly old fashioned.

She turns sidewise in the mirror and sucks in. She is not certain why. Her shape is her shape. There is little much she can do about that now. Her swim wrap is her saving grace. It looks much like any of the other dresses she might wear throughout the week though  is slightly sheer. The almost black is burned out with floral patterns and wraps at the waist with a feminine sensibility she normally eschews, but she had nothing else that would serve on such short notice. 

She looks at herself once more, feels her bare feet on the cool tile and breathes. This is fine. She is simply winning over a client that her company needs to impress. That is all. 

She presses her hands against her stomach and breathes. 

She does not tell herself it will be okay. She has not done that in years. Instead she tells herself it will all be managed. It will happen and she will handle it, whatever it is. This is a test and she intends on passing it. 

There are risk to swimming with her condition, but she knows her team has her back. They will watch her. It will be okay.

She tosses her braid over her shoulder, makes sure her personal items and stacked tidily in the corner, forces herself out of the bathroom.

The rest of them are already waiting on the aft desk. She hopes she hadn’t taken too long, not wanting to raise suspicion by her lengthy change. She assesses everyone’s dress as she approaches. The expression of personalities under the instruction of ‘dress appropriately’ is not lost on her with Anna’s tankini beneath a loosely tied robe, Kristoff’s rash guard and the longest possible swimmers available. Eugene trends towards more fashionable Bermuda cuts and Rapunzel’s suit is a one piece that hardly qualifies with all of the crazy cut outs. That leaves Hans Westergaard who stands in shorts similar to Eugene’s and a plain white t-shirt that is too tight to be decent.

She tries to not notice the shape of his calves, the size and shape of his feet, but it is a lost cause. Her rebellious mind grabs onto these facts before she can convince it not to. He smiles as he sees her and it is the same earth shattering power that leaves her shaky and uncertain where the rest of the world went.

“Shall we?” he says to the group before leading them out of the shaded part of the deck out into the bright sun. 

She squints and pulls her sunglasses down over her eyes as he leads them out past the infinity pool. There are wide steps beyond it railed with stainless steel grips and she clings to them as they descend to what appears to be a small launching platform.. At the base there is a large white space where three crew members wait. They demonstrate general snorkeling protocol that she vaguely remembers from when she was six, before this all began. They offer up equipment. They fit it to them. Then the worst comes. 

Every swimmer must have one buddy. Pick your buddy and know you are responsible for them out in the water.  

And the lines are so clearly drawn. 

She stands fidgeting with her mask and flippers knowing she is now responsible for Hans Westergaard. Anna casts her a knowing glance, but Elsa knows that damage that would be done if she let Anna be her partner. The affront will be obvious, personal, and honestly this is the least of worst case scenarios. 

It is just swimming. They won’t have to touch or speak. All she has to do is make sure that Hans Westergaard does not die. Easy peasy. 

With a return glance she calms her sister’s concerns. It will be okay. This is okay. She is okay. 

Then the crew is distributing sturdy plastic bottles to everyone named with only the words BODY and FACE This time though Mr Westergaard steps up to explain the reasons.

“This is just a little project I’ve been working on - a new line of sunblock. If you don’t mind using this instead of the kind you brought I would love to know what you think.”

Elsa holds both bottles in her hands thinking it is a bit strange, but she would rather have him be strange than charming. She had applied sunblock that morning in her apartment just in case, but the sun is bright and she is not interested in burning. 

She opens the bottle labeled BODY and starts with her legs and feet. The scent and feel of a lotion is pleasing. The texture is not oily or rough but actually absorbs into the skin easily. The scent is not overwhelmingly tropical but instead has the essence of eucalyptus. It is refreshing. She hates to admit how much she enjoys it.

They are all standing fairly close together but the couples have sectioned off into their own little bubbles. She and Hans are on the outside, reasonably spaced. Anna has lost her robe as has Rapunzel. She is next and the idea of him seeing her in something so opposite of what she normally wears makes her heart race. What if he was cataloguing her traits the way she inadvertently was his? What if he liked what he saw? What if he didn’t? 

She reprimands herself. None of that matters. This is a job just like any other job and she needs to stop losing her mind over things that don’t matter.

Her fingers work the tie at her side, thankful now more than ever that they all were wearing sunglasses. If he did look at her she wouldn’t know. She shrugs and the wrap falls to her elbows and then slips all the way to her hands. She carefully draws it in front of her and folds it neatly before setting it next to her snorkel gear and hopes it is bright enough that no one can tell she is blushing. 

She retrieves her sunblock and works her way over all the parts she had missed before until she arrives at  the exposed part of her back that she cannot reach. She is struggling to bend her arms to cover stubborn spots between her shoulder blades, head bent down, and a pair of feet comes into her field of vision. She looks up and Hans Westergaard stands there with his  sanctioned sunblock in his hand. He looks at her with a smile that is nothing but warm, sincere, and if he wasn’t wearing sunglasses she is sure that his eyes would hold that defenseless, human look that always rattles her.. 

“Need some help?” He offers. “The back is always the first place to burn.”

Her decline is on the tip of her tongue but she hesitates. She can always just ask Anna for help but how will that look? No matter how infuriating and unsettling this man is he is still her client and she is trying to make a point. She can handle his flirting and still maintain a professional nature.

“Okay.” She gives a stiff nod. 

He circles around her and that is worse. She is standing there in a garment that shows every lump, bump, and irregularity. It is not cut for flattery and she should be glad of that at this moment, but she finds herself wishing she has the more daring choices of her counterparts. Or at least something that doesn’t look like she is about to take a water aerobics class at senior citizens center.

No. She mentally reprimands herself. This is for the best. She is here to be professional, and he cannot create ideas about her interest in enticing him in any way when she is wearing the equivalent of a nuns habit in modern swimwear. 

She hears him open the bottle, make the necessary squirt, and she waits then for the first touch. It takes longer than expected to come, but when it does her entire body stiffens. 

She had expected cold but there is none of that. The lotion and his touch are warm. He spreads the cream over the available skin before he begins the process of massaging it in. She stays perfectly still, not daring to move, and does everything in her power to not consider that he is touching her, she is allowing it, and that the strength of his fingers is enjoyable.

His thumbs trace the fragile wings of her shoulder blades. The slick of the lotion gives his touch a silky glide as his hands work across her skin, tracing the delicate bulbs of her spine. He comes up to where her braid hangs across her neck and pushes it to the side before she can stop him. 

She knows exactly when he sees it. She can sense it in his hesitation. The scar creeping from the base of her neck up under her hairline is a wide pink line, made wider and more noticeable with every cut, and is something she hides with low lying hairstyles and high collars but now… 

She can practically hear his breath catch at the sight. 

His thumbs run in tandem up along the length of her scar in impossible reverence. She is sure that he can feel the rapid rhythm of her heart against his fingertips where they rest on her throat before she pulls away. 

“I'm sure that's good. Thank you.” she flips her braids back over her neck in an attempt to not rub the spot his thumbs had branded and looks at him with a dare to ask her.

It would be a relief in so many ways if he would just ask. If she could just tell him and scare him away before they get any further in this unnamed dance. Behind his sunglasses it is nearly impossible to tell what his intent is until a smile spreads over his face. Instead of probing he hands her the bottle of sunscreen.

“Return the favor?” It is a question as much as it isn't and she can hardly keep from blushing when he strips off his t-shirt. He winks as he turns his back to her and she recognizes a challenge when she sees one.

But that isn’t all she sees.

Her eyes trace the ropes of his muscles as they bunch and pull as he adjusts his posture to do his own application on the front of his torso. A wide smattering of freckles swaths his broad shoulders in frenetic clusters. Despite his fair complexion there is a tawny glow that speaks of his love of being outdoors. 

For a long moment she stands there frozen just staring as he worked his hands down the length of his arms. She watches his hand slip over the enticingly sharp cuts and swells of his shoulder and then down lower. He turns his head a bit to cast a look in her direction with a smirking grin. 

“If you need more lotion, just let me know.” 

Then he is back to it. His short phrase jerks her out of whatever spell she had been under and now it feels like all eyes are on her. Is her sister watching, is Kristoff? Eugene definitely would be and Rapunzel probably was brokering some sort of wager about what is actually happening and what will happen. 

She grits her teeth. 

She knows if she looks to see if any of that is true she will not be able to do this, which is exactly why she doesn’t. She’s spent the better part of today convincing everyone that this is nothing more than a harmless flirtation and that she can handle it. Running away screaming because he needs help applying sunscreen is not going to do much for her case, but she knows she is going to hear about this later.

So she might as well put on a show.

She grabs a nearby bottle and squares her shoulders. The cap opens with a snap. She focuses on each motion as she squirts a generous amount into the palm of her opposite hand. It is too much, she knows, but it is the only shield she has. She rubs her hands together to coat them thoroughly and then, before she can lose her nerve, reaches out to touch. 

Even with the thick creamy coat of sunblock she can feel the heat of him rising to her touch. The broad lines of his back are long with foreign trenches and cords of muscle telling their story of use. His body is not exaggerated in size like her brother-in-law’s, but it is well formed, athletically cut. There is a kind of feline grace about him and the way he moves, the way his calculating eyes watch her move in this game she can hardly remember starting.

She is more rough than she needs to be, pressing hard enough that she feels him brace. She does not take the care he did to make sure that every inch of skin is absolutely slathered and rubbed in. She works from the center of his back up over his shoulder blades and then down close to the line of his swim trunks.

She stares at her own hands moving across his skin and she tries to think of anything but the idea that she is just inches away from dangerous territory. As if this entire exercise isn’t dangerous territory. She lets out a breath she did not know she was holding  and steps away.

"There. All set." She holds her hands down at her sides, palms still tingling with his heat.

He turns and faces her. 

"So," he sets his sunscreen on the deck and straightens. "Snorkel buddies? What do you say?"

She has to respect that he is actually asking instead of just assuming. It gives her the opportunity to negotiate.

"We could always triple up. No sense in creating a superfluous twosome."

"There is no possible way that any group you are a part of could be superfluous," he grins. "But it's statistically safer in pairs. Trust me one we get out there you will have so much to see that I promise you will be glad you only have to keep track of one other person."

She is not going to ask for his source on those stats, but instead she asks: “What exactly are we going to look at?” 

She had not thought it possible, but his smile grew three sizes at her question.

“My initiative,” he pulls off his sunglasses, puts them off to the side, and fits his mask over the top of his head. “Ready to see?” 

She looks over to the others and they all have their gear ready to go and are watching them. How long had they been watching them? She looks back at Hans and nods. 

He leads them to the edge of the platform. It is a few feet above the water with a plastic and metal ladder on the side. Hans sits, pulls his flippers onto his dangling feet, and then slides off into the blue water. He pops up only an instant later and swims back a few feet to look up at them. 

“Water’s great!” He treads, powerful shoulder muscles rolling. “Come on in.” 

They all follow suit. Elsa is the last to slip from the safe edge of the boat into the water below. It is cold, not freezing, but definitely not bathtub water. The temperature is jarring at first. Her body cramps and hesitates as she stays submerged, but she manages to kick to the surface. She pops up on a sputtering gasp, reorients herself, and swims to the others. 

“We’re swimming to that buoy over there.” He points to a yellow speck a few hundred yards away. I recommend using one of these to help with the swim.” He raises his arm out of the water and gestures. Several life preserver belts fly over the edge from a helpful crew member and they all grab one. “Also once we are out there it is a strict look but don’t touch policy. Ready?” 

“When will we know we are seeing what we are supposed to be seeing?” Rapunzel asks, her intrepid curiosity shining through.

“I have a feeling you will know.” He smiles and pulls his mask over his eyes. “Follow me!”

[ previous ]

[ubernoxa]

THE DARE

A Guns N’ Roses FanFic

Chapter 6: A Under the Stars

The lie came of Delilah’s tongue like she had rehearsed it a hundred times.

Delilah held the piece of paper with the lie written across it. They stood in front of a pay phone that was located a couple blocks down, so that they couldn’t be traced back to the apartment.

Delailah remained frozen in front of the payphone until Mags spoke, “You will be fine. Just read the lie right off of the paper.”

At first Mags wanted to roll her eyes and call Delilah a wimp or goodie two shoes, but she quickly realized that she couldn’t. Delilah was practically shaking as she picked up the phone and dialed her parent’s number. Mags placed her hand on Delilah’s back to hopefully calm her shaking.

“Sanderson household, Gabe speaking,” Delilah slimed eternally thankful that one of her older brothers had answered the phone instead of her mother.

“Hey Gabe its Delilah,”

“Hey Delilah, How’s baking going? Why are you calling? Do you need someone to go pick up some extra food or something?”

In fear that Gabe would continue to ramble, a family trait that they all wished they didn’t inherit from their mother, Delilah interrupted him, “No I didn’t end up baking with Beth today. I am actually helping out at a food kitchen that I stumbled upon while on a morning walk. Someone was handing out fliers and I offered to help out. That is actually why I called, can I talk to mother or father? I am assuming father is at Church so is mother there.”

Delilah hadn’t noticed Mags scrunching her face whenever Delilah said mother or father. It sounded odd the way Delilah said it, in Mags opinion.

“Good afternoon Delilah,” Delilah could feel her heart begin to freak out as she heard her mother’s voice. The last time her heart felt like this was last night...with Duff. A stupid smile crossed Delilaha’s face as she thought of their moment.

“Good afternoon mother. I would like permission to volunteer at a food kitchen. They really need my help, and I feel like God lead me to this woman who was handing out the fliers asking for help,” Delilah read the lie right off of the note that she held.

“That sounds wonderful Delilah. When will you be coming home?” Mags let out a sigh at Delilah’s mother’s reply.

“So that’s the thing. They need my help until 3 AM making the bread, so they offered for me to stay the night in the church,” this was the part that Delilah was worried about. This was the part where she was worried that her mother would ask her to bring Gabe or Mark, or tell her she couldn’t go all together.

“How kind of you. What’s the address? I could send Beth and the rest of your friends over to help out.”

“No mother, that wont be neccisary. I feel like this is a journey that God wants me to go on by myself. Mother, I don’t know the best way to say this, but I feel like this is the perfect opportunity for me. I want to completely focus on giving with no distraction.”

“That is complexity understandable honey. We all need to find ourselves and go on our own spiritual journeys. All I ask is for you to be safe, and be back ontime tomorrow afternoon to help prepare dinner,” her mother responded before saying that she loved her and looked forward to seeing her tomorrow.

“I can’t believe that worked!” Mags cheered as she wrapped her arm around Delilah’s shoulder.

The girls entered the apartment which was currently filled with the guys getting ready. It was absolute chaos.

“This is normal, the yelling?” Delilah asked over the music the guys were playing to get ready.

“Yeah, usually they’re more drunk though,” Mags said before throwing Delilah the shirt and pants she picked out earlier.

“Go find a closet or something to change in. The guys will probably be using the bathroom to get ready. I gotta run to my brother’s truck to grab some shoes for us,” Mags said before heading out the door.

“I’d offer you my room, but Axl is getting ready,” Izzy startled Delilah as he spoke.

“You can change behind the couch though if you help me scotch it forward just enough,” Delilah smiled at Izzy’s words and helped him move the couch forward just enough for her to hide behind it and change.

Delilah squirmed on the ground as she tried to get the pants Mags had picked out for her on. It was a struggle as she had never changed into clothing while hiding behind a nasty couch while also lying on the ground.

“Why the fuck did ya move the couch Izzy?” Delialah could recognize Axl’s voice anywhere.

“Del is changing,” Izzy simply replied while sitting on the couch where Axl quickly joined him.

“How’s it going back there Del?” Delilah already rolled her eyes at Axl’s question. She half expected him to look.

“Great, thanks for asking,” she sarcastically responded as she got her shirt over her head.

“Izzy, I’ve always like this couch,” There was something about Axl’s tone that Delilah didn’t like.

“Why? It’s a piece of shit.”

“But it’s great for fucking chicks on. Something about the busted springs or worn down fabric I guess,” before Axl could continue talking Delilah shot up behind the couch.

“Are you serious?” Axl let out a laugh as Delilah quickly made her way across the room

She bolted across the room earning laughs from Izzy and Axl.

“Did you finally tell her about the couch?” Mags walked into the room fully changed.

“You knew?” Delilah screamed earning a couple of laughs. By now the whole band was watching the scene unfold.

“Yeah, sorry Del. I was gonna tell ya later. I just didn’t know the right way to tell you that half of this apartment has had sex with a girl on the couch,” Delilah decided to join Mags in laughing in hopes to defuse the situation. She didn’t want to make that big of a deal about it. Plus it wasn’t like she was naked on the couch. It still was disgusting and she made a note to remember to take a shower later

Del then quickly followed Mags into the kitchen, “you look good.” Delilah smiled at Mags words as she looked down at her Bowie shirt and ripped jean pants Mags helped her find.

“You too,” Delilah replied as she watched Mags apply some makeup.

“Oh hey, I got these for you. You can probably sneak into the bathroom before one of the guys take it again,” Mags handed her the black eyeliner and foundation with a smile. Delilah thanked her for the gifts and headed towards the bathroom.

Once inside she tried to ignore the fact that the eyeliner and foundation looked brand new which meant that Mags probably stole it for her. It was a nice gesture, but the theft part made Delilah feel dirty, but not as dirty as the couch.

“You need any help?” Delilah jumped around Duff’s voice. She must have figured that he had been watching her hold the eyeliner unknowing of what to do with it.

“Honesty yeah. Foundation is pretty straight forward, but eyeliner. Like I get it the eyeliner is to line the eyes hence the name , but how do you apply it properly. Are you supposed to hold it a certain way or are you supposed to do the top or the bottom of the eye first?” Delilah’s rambling was quickly interrupted by Duff’s laughter which filled the bathroom.

“Want me to apply it for you,” he pointed towards his eyes which were neatly outlined in eyeliner.

Delilah nodded earning a smile from Duff.

He let out a light chuckle

“What’s so funny? Is my foundation messed up?” Delilah quickly turned around to check for imperfections.

“No, no you look amazing. I was laughing at the fact that you’re going to have to sit on the sink, so I don’t have to bend over...a lot,” Duff insisted as he turned her around. He hadn’t noticed how much shorter she was than him until now.

Smooth Duff real smooth. He wanted to kick himself as the words left his mouth.

Delilah prayed that Duff couldn’t see her blush as he complimented her. She hoped the foundation covered most of it. Before she knew it she was sitting on the sink and Duff was gently applying the eyeliner. Every once and a while, his calloused fingers would dance across her skin causing her heart to flutter.

“Why are you so good at this? I can barely draw a line without messing it up,” Delilah moaned as Duff moved onto the other eye.

“Well Dely, I used to be in a punk band before guns. Now hold still,” Delilah barely heard the words he said as he currently had both of his hands rested on her thighs as he spoke. She hope he couldn’t feel her forever increasing heartbeat.

“I was pretty still,” Delilah interjected.

“Dely, you were pretty, but you were not anywhere near still. You were almost as bouncy or twitchy as my drummer,” Duff teased back. Delilah could barely stay still as he massaged his thumbs into her inner thighs as he spoke.

To say she was lost for wards was an understatement.

“I like the shirt by the way,” Duff added as he worked on her left eye.

“Thanks, this guy was telling me about this Bowie guy and we listened to an album or two, and I really liked it,” Delilah commented as she caught a smirk form on his face.

“Oh, this guy sounds pretty cool,” Duff joked back as he finished her other eye.

“Nah, not really. He plays bass, so talk about a loser,” Delilah teased before leaving the bathroom.

In no time all of them, minus Izzy, were on their way to the bar. Delilah asked Izzy why he couldn’t come, but all he said was that he was preoccupied and Mags immediately made Delilah drop the conversation.

“Are we meeting anyone there?” Duff asked the group to hopefully escape his conversation with Steven. Steven has been relentless at keeping Duff occupied with pointless conversation where they talked about pure nonsense.

“Nah, the girls are working tonight,” Axl sadly replied.

Delilah’s heart sank as she heard Axl’s answer. Other girls? To her, he doubts were confirmed right then and there. She obviously wasn’t good enough for Duff.

Duff watched as Delilah hunched her shoulders over.

He internally cussed himself off and squeezed his way through their small group to stand next to her.

“Have you ever had a good beer before or just the stuff that tastes like piss,” Duff asked attempting damage control.

“Nah just piss,” Delilah smiled back at the blonde.

“Well this bar we are going to has one of my favorite beers, I’ll have to get you one,” Duff felt a sigh of relief fill his body as Delilah smiled and nodded back to him.

Time quickly flew by when they got to the bar. Duff bought Delilah a beer, with the money she assumed was from their gig the previous night, and it actually didn’t taste half bad.

Duff quickly realized that Axl’s warning was real when Steven wouldn’t leave his side when they walked to the bar. At first, Popcorn talked to Duff about actual band things, but the conversation turned into what was on Steven’s mind that very second. Duff’s frustration with Steven continued to grow as he insisted on sitting next to Delilah in the booth, making it almost impossible to talk to her. Steven’s antics weren’t by any means subtle, but they were effective.

Duff watched as Delilah danced in her seat to the music that was playing. When she shook her head, her curls flew from side to side.

“The song is by the Clash. The band playing is doing a pretty good cover,” Duff felt like he had to yell over Steven and Axl as he attempted to talk to Delilah.

A very drunk Mags glared at him from across the table, but he could barely hear what she was saying, nor did he care.

Delilah sent a smile towards Duff, but remained silent as Axl and Slash talked amongst themselves. She felt like she was surrounded by them like she was on an island or something. With Axl to her left, and Slash to her right, Steven across from her and Mags next to him, there was no way to talk to Duff.

Delilah turned towards Axl and shot him a confused look. Did she hear him say something?

“Slash is grabbing another round. Need more?” Axl was only inches from Delilah’s ear when he spoke sending shivers down her spine.

“Nah, I’m still working on this one,” Delilah put on a fake smile as she answered him. She looked over towards Duff who looked like he wanted to be anywhere, but sitting next to Mags and Steven.

“Looks like Duff is having a lot of fun,” Axl pointed towards Duff who looked over towards Delilah and mouthed something she didn’t understand.

She turned towards Axl who was laughing at Duff’s comment. Delilah watched Axl mouth something back. From what Delilah could dicifer, he mouthed something along the lines of sucks to suck.

Slash came back to their table with three more beers and handed them to Delilah and Axl.

“Wanna dance?” Duff quickly shot his head in Mag’s and Delilah direction only to be relieved when the guy who owned the voice asked Mags to dance, not Delilah.

“You should sit next to him,”

Delilah looked over at Axl and shot him a confused look.

“Why?”

“In a couple of seconds Mags will be on the dance floor, and Steven has been eyeing the girl at the bar all night. You two will finally get some alone time,” Axl replied before taking another sip of his beer.

“Why are you being nice, I pegged you as more of the annoying piece of shit guy in the band,” Axl laughed at Delilah’s comment.

Just as Axl had predicted Mags was on dance floor, and Steven headed towards the bar.

“You better be careful or with a mouth like that, you’re going to hell,” Axl replied back.

Delilah faked a gasp and placed her hand on her chest pretending to be offended. “But I’m just a good Catholic girl, I could never go to hell,” Delilah said before heading over towards Duff.

Axl remained frozen for a couple of seconds trying to process what she had said. He didn’t know why his brain was stuck on the way she said ‘good girl’, but he liked it.

“Well that was weird,” Slash replied before taking another sip. Axl was almost startled by the guitarist’s words.

Weird.

Weird was a good word for it.

“Is this seat taken,” Duff smiled as Delilah came over. About time.

“Yeah, by you,” she smiled as Duff’s words.

“So, overall thoughts on the beer?” Duff noticed the beer that was in her hand.

“Really good, but the music is even better!” Delilah cheered back as she threw her arms up in the air.

“I’m glad you like it!” Delilah’s heart practically melted when he smiled.

“Want another?” Duff stood up to go back to the bar, but immediately noticed a change in Delilah. That’s when it clicked. This was probably the second bar she had ever been to, maybe she needed a break.

“Or follow me. The night is still young,” Duff offered his hand. Delilah looked over at Mags who was happily dancing with the guy who asked her earlier. Why not? What’s the worst that could happen?

She quickly took his hand and followed him out of the bar walking past Steven who was talking to some girl, Duff was relieved for the first time that Steven was distracted.

The two of them then headed out of the bar into the crowed streets of Sunset Strip. Delilah felt Duff’s arm wrap around her waist as they walked toe and toe. She couldn’t remember the last time she saw this many people in the streets.

“Where are we going?”

Duff simple retuned a smile and pulled her in closer to him.

“I was thinking Beijing,” Duff could barely hold in his laugh as he heard a groan escape Delilah.

“How do you feel like Iceland?” He asked receiving another groan from Delilah.

“Too cold,” she moaned.

In not time the two of them arrived outside his apartment complex and Delilah followed him up the stairs.

“There is always Seattle,” He said as he opened the door reveling his cramped apartment. Once again he received another groan from Delilah as plopped down on the floor making sure to keep her distance from the disgusting couch.

“Isn’t Seattle known for terrible weather? Cold, windy, rainy? Honestly the only thing that entire city has going for it is their football,” Duff smiled as he walked towards the kitchen.

“You like football? I didn’t peg you as the sport type?” Duff yelled from the kitchen in the apartment.

He dug through the fridge and pulled out some vodka.

“All my brothers played,” Delilah replied when he came back into the room. Brothers?

Delilah watched as Duff opened the door and motioned for her to leave the room.

“Where are we going now?” Dilalah asked as she was leaving the apartment.

“Wait no, don’t fucking answer that,” Delilah groaned as she followed him upstairs.

“Watch your fucking language Dely, and well since you asked,” before Duff could finish listing off cities Delilah interrupted him with a load groan. Duff’s laughter filled the stairway as they climbed up to the roof.

The two of them sat on the roof that overlooked the strip and talked quickly jumping from one topic to the next.

“Noo you didn’t,” Delilah gasped as Duff told her about the time he died his hair blue.

“Yeah, thought it was very punk,” Duff shook his head as he took another sip of the vodka and passed it to Delilah.

“I think you could pull it off, blue hair,” Delilah tried to hide her laughter.

“Wow you are a terrible liar, you couldn’t even hide your cute giggle,” Duff teased as he pulled Delilah onto his lap. She took another small sip of the vodka and her face scrunched at the burn as it did every time.

Duff’s laughter filled the air, joining Delilah’s.

The strip might have been loud and filled with music filling the air, but neither Duff nor Delilah could hear that. To them it was as if they were on their own island. An island where Delilah didn’t have to leave tomorrow. An island where they never had to worry about where their next meal came from. An island that was all theirs.

“Dely, I would appreciate it if you would kiss me right now,” Duff purred into Delilah’s ears right before they kissed under the stars.

[daydreamdanganronpa]

Upon enrolling Hopes Peak Academy for Gifted Students, you were granted the title Ultimate Radioshow Host. You were commended for accumulating hundreds of thousands of fans for your station, as well as saving the life of a listener that had called in at one point.

there’s really 21 pages im sorry mobile readers.

under the cut for the luckier desktop readers!

Upon enrolling Hopes Peak Academy for Gifted Students, you were granted the title Ultimate Radioshow Host. You were commended for accumulating hundreds of thousands of fans for your station, as well as saving the life of a listener that had called in at one point.

AMAMI

It was often during the late nights where boredom would plague him, supposed dangers of the dark leaving him confined to the same four walls of his room.

Sighing at his restrictions to freely travel, Rantaro flipped on his radio after seeing no one was online for him to chat to. A lively voice began to pour out of the speaker, which he assumed was from a radio show.

“Good evening! We’re doing a call-in bit now where for you guys who can’t sleep will get too scared to sleep at all! You’re going to ring in and tell me all about what scares you~ Fufufu.”

The segment was cheesy, but he listened to the answers of other people anyway; spiders, dolls, heights. Although they were normal fears, they weren’t exactly ones he resonated to-- his talent gave him exposure to these sorts of things and he considered himself brave when he needed to be. Thoughts of giving an answer himself crossed his mind, and he picked up his phone, shrugging. He may as well; he had time and loneliness to kill, plus it was anonymous.

“Aaaand, you’re on!”

“Hey.” Rantaro called out. “‘This live?”

“Yup!” You answered back. Unlike most people that called in who were usually overexcited, talkative fans, his voice was smooth and casual. You were glad this was taking place over the radio so people wouldn’t see the light blush dusting your cheeks. “Night’s Fright is live until midnight!

“Hm…” He crossed his arms and leant back in his chair, letting his phone sit on his shoulder where he tilted his head to press an ear against it. “I’ve a lot of fears, really. Messing up at Hopes Peak is a big one.” He began to speak.

Rantaro himself had never opened up about his problems before; he was a secretive, guarded person, and so he surprised himself by doing it for the first time in front of a crowd. He guessed it was the night making him sentimental and talk-- or was this your influence as a host?

When you went quiet, he laughed, trying to alleviate some of the tension.

“Ahaha. Sorry, this isn’t that suitable for a popular radio, is it?”

“...Did you say Hopes Peak?” You said suddenly.

“Huh? Yeah.”

“Oh, my. We go to the same school, caller-kun!”

Realisation dawned on him-- of course only the station of the Ultimate Radioshow Host would be buzzing with activity at this time of night.

“What year are you in?” You prompted, snapping him out of his thoughts.

He chuckled before giving you a response. “You might’ve seen me around-- I’m a freshman.”

“Me too!” You gasped.

This was the beginning of a long conversation-- Your radio show schedule was discarded for chatting with Rantaro, and your listeners were made to listen to the two of you until midnight.

Soon enough news spread quickly online and on tabloids that the infamous ___ had gotten a date overnight with a mystery caller and were now together. While they were lies, both you and Rantaro secretly didn’t mind them; it could very well be a truth in the near future.

GONTA

“Eh? Who __-chan talking to?”

“Everyone! All the world’s a stage, Gonta-kun!” 

You were always acting like you were on set at any given moment, much to Gonta’s confusion. Sometimes you’d throw a peace sign in a random direction where Gonta thought a camera would be, or press your headphones as if you were speaking into a microphone.

Occasionally you carried around a recorder with you for impromptu sessions, and it was quickly filled with Gonta’s numerous accounts of confusion-- you found his flustered nature cute. When you randomly interviewed him for impromptu question and answer segments, he’d hit peak confusion.

“Everyone’s dying to hear your answers, Gonta-kun!” You’d encourage enthusiastically.

“Everyone!? Who? Who in danger?” He’d cry in response. “Because of Gonta? Gonta sorry!”

When you laughed and said you were kidding-- just exaggerating things-- he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Oh… Good. Gonta still not know what __ means, though…”

The boy wasn’t customary to technology, so you began to teach him things. You explained how to use the recorder you carried, what a broadcast, and everything your job entailed as the Ultimate Radioshow Host.

“Erm, so Gonta just press this button?” He said, tilting the recorder to inspect it. “Then Gonta talk?”

“Yeah, you can just talk about your thoughts and stuff! Whatever you want.” You explained. Raising a finger to your lips, you smiled slyly. “But nothing you wouldn’t want a secret~ I’m going to listen to it, after all.”

“Gonta understand!” He said earnestly, and raised the device to his lips.

“Um! Gonta think __ very nice! And fun to talk to! Yes, Gonta love ___ very much!”

When he handed it back to you sheepishly, you wordlessly took it back, embarrassed.

You were definitely going to save that recording forever.

OUMA

Ouma was the one person who embraced your quirkiness, returning your ‘showbiz’ like expressions with some of his improvised own. He quickly found his way to your side at all times, and two of you become known as an unofficial duo.

Everyone at Hopes Peak either adored your broadcasts over the public speakers, but when Ouma chimed in on some days a collective groan would sweep over the school.

“Gooood morning, Hopes Peak! I’m your __-chan—“

“—And I’m your Kokichi Ouma~!”

Giving him the key to the broadcasting room proved to be a mistake, as the boy would often make fake announcements about free lunches or costume events and trick the school.

Personally you thought it to be amusing, but this didn’t seem to be the majority opinion.

A poll was held to determine how the broadcasts should be run, and the results practically begged for Ouma’s voice to be taken off the speakers.

He was consequently banned from making any sort of public service announcements.

“Noooo, don’t do this to me, __-chan!” He whined as you took away his key. “We’re perfect together!”

“I know.” You said sadly. “I didn’t want want this either. But hey! You can still send me song suggestions for me to blast randomly~”

“You’re right!” He grinned. “See you round, __-chan.”

But of course, he was going to do much more than that.

You were walking and chatting with Angie in the hallways casually when you heard the familiar tone of the broadcast opening bars. That was odd.

“Huh? Isn’t the broadcast committee your responsibility?” Angie questioned you.

“...Yeah.” You confirmed slowly, confused at who was operating it. You were the only one who had access to the room after Ouma was kicked out. It must’ve been a mistake.

You were contradicted when hearing a familiar laugh over the speaker made a chill run up your spin.

“Nishishi~ Helloooo, Hopes Peak. You hadn’t heard the last of me yet!”

Ouma. Of course.

You mentally slapped yourself as you recalled his ability to pick locks-- it didn’t matter if he had the key or not.

“This is a suuuper special announcement from your very own Kokichi Ouma to the one and only __-chan!”

You lifted your head to look up at the speakers. What could he possibly want?

“Listen up! I’m giving you the once in a lifetime opportunity to go on a date with me. You want to, right?” Ouma spoke confidently as ever.

“So meet me under the cherry blossom tree in the courtyard after school, ‘kay? Don’t make me wait!”

And with that, the broadcast ended, leaving you a blushing mess of confusion.

You felt everyone’s eyes in the hallway staring at you. This was going to be one hell of a story.

KOREKIYO

He found your influence over such a large crowd to be highly interesting.

When he asked you questions about your field of work and radio station, it surprised you how much he knew— he didn’t look like someone who’d be a frequent listener.

“It’s a wonder how much power words have on people.” He remarked one day. “Stories, music, advice— I’ve noticed these frequent your radio shows.”

This flattered you considerably, as you had taken a liking to his work as well.

“You tell anthropology stories right, Kiyo?” You asked him, eyes glittering. “I should have you appear as a guest speaker on my show someday!”

He chuckled in response. “My, what an honour that’d be. But I’m afraid the others find listening to me rather dull.”

You pouted. “I find them interesting! And your voice is really nice, too…”

With a polite smile, he continued to turn down the many offers you made him to join you on-air, saying he wasn’t well-practiced in entertainment.

But Korekiyo had done his research on you, of course, in an attempt to understand why you had amassed such a large following. You had a reputation for being well-loved and irresistible; the latter of which he took as a challenge to oppose your charms. He insisted upon devoting his energy to the entirety of humanity, not just one person.

However, all reason flew out the window one day when you had noticed him staring at you while you were having a conversation with Kaede and Shuichi.

Without drawing attention from them you glanced at Korekiyo, giving a little wave as you flashed him a smile.

Taken aback at finding your sudden act of kindness quite cute, he quickly moved to lift his mask higher to conceal a blush creeping onto his face.

He surely understood your appeal now.

KIIBO

For some time Kiibo lived in solitude, but being a robot had its perks to combat this. His professor installed a radio into him, mostly for communicative purposes, but he quickly learnt how to use it for entertainment purposes. He was flicking through the channels idly one day-- rapidly switching from classical to jazz to talk shows, quickly growing bored until…

A lively, refreshing voice graced his ears.

“As always, I’m your __-chan and host tonight! Let’s get started~.”

Your voice always so upbeat, and he felt that it was genuine. Soon enough your channel had become his favourite, and his internal radio was permanently tuned to your broadcast, letting him listen to you every chance he got.

He longed to hear you in person someday. But he brushed away the thought, knowing he’d never be able to meet a celebrity like you.

When he found out you were going to be his classmate for his high school life at Hopes Peak, he flipped.

During the class introductions, he didn’t recognise it was you until you spoke. It was unmistakably you. He stopped dead in his tracks when he realised this-- your voice was so much more lovely in person, just as he had always thought. You noticed him being flustered over your presence and threw him a wink.

“Oh! A fan, I take it?” You smiled.

“Y-Yes!” He stammered, nodding rapidly. “I love y-- I’ve loved your station for so so long, and…! Ahh, if you could you sign something for me, I--

Suddenly, his excitement and shock rendered him to useless to speak and he hit a malfunction, causing him to shut down and overheat, steam pouring out of his ears. His body slumped over, looking like the life was drained out of him.

“Hello?”

You waved a hand in front of his face, tilting your head in confusion when he didn’t answer. Shrugging, you took out a metallic marker from your pocket anyway, signing Kiibo’s chest plate before walking off.

KIRUMI

Being in the same class as the Ultimate Radioshow Host had its ups and downs. Some days she found your loud nature to be quite overwhelming like Ouma, but she found you were much sweeter, and was pleased when you offered assistance. She found your popularity and influence useful, and from time to time she would tap your shoulder and whisper into your ear a message for you to relay to the rest of the class.

“Alright~!” You’d say after Kirumi pulled away from you. “Listen up! Everyone’s gotta put their dishes away when you’re done eating, ‘kay?”

You were met with groans of annoyance in return, but it didn’t matter. You turned around and gave Kirumi a reassuring nod, a gesture that she returned with a bow in response. With her head lowered at that angle, she was grateful you wouldn’t be able to see the blush on her face whenever you smiled at her like that. She’d tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear before standing to her full height again and resuming her normal activities, a little happier this time.

Your friendship started when you noticed her trying to gather the attention of the class, but over the commotion went unnoticed.

“Everyone, if you could please…”

“Excuse me--”

“Please listen…”

It bothered you to see Kirumi overshadowed by everyone’s noisy chatter, and you knew you had to take action. Standing on the table and breathing in, you pulled out a megaphone from seemingly nowhere and began to yell.

“Heeeeey!” You yelled, in a voice so loud it could shatter glass. “Listen to Kirumi, you idiots!”

Silence.

Everyone slowly turned their heads towards you, eyes wide as you pointed to Kirumi behind you. “Don’t make me say it again!”

Although Kirumi was well recognised, she had always felt more of a background character helping behind the scenes and whatnot, and so this sudden spotlight on her surprised her.

Slightly panicked, she looked back at you, where you were giving her a smile and a thumbs up.

Without another word, you leapt off the desk and grabbed your bag, it swinging from your shoulder as you promptly left the room with everyone’s eyes staring at your back.

As for Kirumi?

She was starstruck.

KAITO

The poor boy had tuned into your station by accident when he was fixing up a makeshift radio to communicate with aliens in outer space.

He had a receiver and transmitter prepared to make contact— if only he could pick up anything.

But when he hears the static dissolve into words, and words to conversation, he jumps.

“Goooood evening everybody!”

He was especially surprised that this voice was speaking in a language he could understand, no less.

“Woah!” He yelled. “This works!? There are aliens out there?”

“Huh? Kaito?”

Kaito was shocked. “You know who I am?”

“Of course I know your name! We’re in the same class, remember? It’s __. And hey! I’m no alien!”

Oh. It was you-- __, the Ultimate Radioshow Host.

...Radioshow Host. Shit.

Your talent repeating in his head, realisation dawned on him and his face paled as he figured out what you were going to say next.

“More importantly, what are you doing and how!? This is my radio show, you know!”

Trying to contain his urge to scream he smacked his forehead and held his transmitter tightly. “U-Um! It was-- It was just a prank! Yeah, a prank! Ouma put me up to it, hahaha!” He laughed forcefully.

He had really just embarrassed himself by spouting all that nonsense about aliens in front of you and about a million people. Abort mission.

“S-S-Sorry __-chan! See you tomorrow! Or not! Or never!” He screamed, stammering a barely coherent apology and disconnecting as quickly as he could.

His unorthodox method of disconnecting went noticed by you as you heard the unharmonious crashing of metals before ceasing to hear his voice again.

ANGIE

The girl thought your many fans were a cult, and she was highly invested in you. While this made you happy, it came with a lot of questions and refusing her many times to not use the radio to advertise for Atua.

“So you’re a God, huh, __!” She asked-- more like announced-- one day.

Her sudden outburst confused you. “No?” You answered. “I’m just me!”

“Huh?” She tilted her head. “But you’ve got control over all these people who’d do anything for you. And you speak to them constantly too!”

“I don’t control them!” You said quickly. “They just happen to like what I do.” You said the last statement a little bashfully with a light blush on your face, which Angie noticed.

“You can’t be so humble, __!” She said, putting her hands on her hips. “That’s not how a God is-- they’re powerful and fierce!”

Without warning, she suddenly grabbed your phone and started a recording. “Like this!” She prompted, grinning into the front-facing camera.

“Good evening everybody!” She mimicked your time and catchphrase. But similarities were lost with her next words. “This world is mine! I, __ order you all to surrender to my will!”

You had to admit, it was quite amusing to watch her try to imitate a more evil rendition of you-- Angie’s take on ‘God-like.’

“Now you try!” She encouraged, holding up the camera and zooming in on your face.

Striking a pose with your thumb and first finger under your chin, you gave a haughty laugh. “To all those tuning in; the __ has spoken! You’ve all been brainwashed to listen to my every order! Fuahaha!”

“That’s more like it!” She grinned, and you watched as she opened up the Instagram app.

Lunging for your phone, you yelled, realising what she was intending to do.

“Wait, don’t post that!”

MIU

In her current state, Miu was a hopeless mess. Arms sprawled atop the desk, she was gazing at her radio desperately as she listened to your voice.

She wanted to hear it every day in person. She wanted you to be hers— but if only you could just notice her. You were always preoccupied with your radio show duties and swept away by fans. She had to have her voice stand out from the rest.

That’s when, Miu Iruma, inventor and girl genius, has a sudden strike of inspiration. Swiping the radio off her desk, she grabbed her toolbox and got ready to work.

She had prepared an interceptor device to interrupt your broadcast with her own. Miu grinned into the receiver, knowing she had been successful.

Hacked.

“Sup, fuckers!?”

On your end, you were shocked at the sudden interruption; you hadn’t taken a caller or expected a guest. You looked at your producer for any confirmation but they appeared just as shocked as you are as you listened.

“Surprised, arent’cha? This radio station was fucken eaaaasy. You’ve just been hacked and whacked!”

You froze, recognising the voice. Was that— Iruma? You knew those profanities anywhere.

You rushed to lean over to the mic, hand pressing against your headphones as you knitted your eyebrows in confusion.

“Miu, really!? W-What are you doing-- you know this is live, right?”

“Fuck yeah I do! That’s exactly why I’m doing this.”

“Huh?”

“Call me an exhibitionist, but there’s something I gotta tell ya right now!” You heard her inhale before she spoke again.

“__-chan! I, the great Miu Iruma, am asking you on a date. ...Lemme be your girlfriend!”

And with countless viewers listening in anticipation, you happily agreed, much to Miu’s joy and your producers anger.

TENKO

Tuning into you became routine for her; her daily rituals of stretching, exercise and meditation were accompanied by your voice pouring out of the radio.

Today you had just announced you were taking in callers by random, and Tenko was crossing her fingers wishing to be picked. She wanted this badly; she’d do anything for a chance to talk to you.

When you addressed her for the first time, she almost screamed.

“Hello, listener dearest~ You’re live with me!” Your enthusiastic voice was like a beacon of hope to her.

“R-Reaaaaaaally!?”

Immediately, she threw her phone across the room with a shriek of excitement.

Realising in horror at what she had just done, she stumbled across the room to retrieve her phone, tripping over her chair in the process.

Still laying on her stomach, she reached for her phone, and started babbling into it in a hurry to interact with you.

“Hello!? I-I-I’m such a big fan, and wow! This is so cool!”

Tenko waited to hear your refreshing reply back-- praise, enthusiasm, anything. As long as she could hear your acknowledgements of her in conversation, she would be ecstatic.

When she didn’t hear anything after a few moments, she tilted her head in confusion, and gripped her phone.

“Hello? Can you hear me!?” She yelled.

Looking down at the phone to see her connection, her eyes widened in shock as she realised just how tightly she had been clutching her phone.

Chunks of metal and glass shards in her hand, she screamed as she saw her now broken phone. There was no repairing it in time to talk to you either-- In her excitement she completely missed the fact that she had ruined her one connection line to you.

Throwing it again, she covered her face with both hands as she raised her head to yell in embarrassment and shame.

“AAUGH. I really blew my one chance to talk to __!”

KAEDE

Occasionally you’d dedicate a segment of the show to Kaede and play piano tracks— most of which were her own playing. She’d giggle as she listened along, twirling a lock of hair around her finger as she did.

“What you just heard was Clair De Lune played by our very own Kaede Akamatsu!” You said cheerily.

“We have a lot of talented musicians at Hopes Peak!” You continued. “Special thanks to Ibuki-san and Sayaka-san who featured earlier today, too.”

Your voice dropped and became more humble noticeably, as you began to introduce the next segment.

“And well… I’m no musician but this last song… Will be performed live by me!”

Kaede perked up at this, and she could imagine your several other thousands of listeners doing the same thing. You’d never sung live before.

“This is dedicated to Akamatsu Kaede. I hope you’re listening~”

The girl in question gasped as you began to play the track, and she recognised the tune immediately-- it was her piano rendition of her favourite love song. Kaede was surprised to learn that you had saved and recorded that, too.

A blush crept onto her face when she realised what was going on. 

You were singing along to her playing. This was your confession.

On her end, Kaede had to muffle a scream into her pillow to contain the volume of both her joy embarrassment.

She surely wouldn’t be anything less than a blushing mess when she saw you the next day at school. 

SHUICHI

You had invited him to co-star the host with you as a guest, and with how anxious he was being, he was almost regretting it.

He accepted almost a little took quickly at the chance to spend time with you alone, but he soon realised that there would be no real alone time at all.

“So how many listeners do you have, usually?” He asked as casually as he could on the way to your studio.

“Hm…” You tapped your chin. “I couldn’t say for sure. I’ve got a looooot of fans, but only a few hundred thousand of them would be tuning in every show.”

Only? Oh god.

Today you were doing an advice segment where you interacted with your callers, so there were more people than he anticipated. He was reserved for the most part, but made witty comments every now and then that made you laugh.

He felt warmth whenever you did and a sense of confidence-- he wanted to be the one to always put a smile on your face.

Amidst the discussion, a follower of yours tuned in crying over her mother-- they described it to be an incident deemed unsolvable, and they

“I’m sorry for your loss…” You said, unable to find words to this unexpected call-in. “If it helps, we can--”

“Hey.” Shuichi interrupted. “You say that’s an unsolvable case but… Could it be there’s something going on with your aunt..? Especially with her relationship to your mother and the fact that she’s a butcher--” He elaborated on his theory, and soon enough everyone including you quickly became stunned.

The broadcast had to be terminated immediately as you had just uncovered incriminating information. Shouts by your production team and manager sounded through the room as there were calls to police stations being made and team members rushing about to calm down listeners already outside your station.

Amidst the chaos, you put your hands on a stunned-looking Shuichi’s shoulders.

“You did it, Shuichi!

“Um, I think I’ve just caused trouble for everyone, though…”

“No, no!” Your eyes were sparkling. “Not at all-- you’ve just solved a case, and saved a life on air!”

“Hey, you know?” You chattered excitedly. “That’s exactly how I got my Ultimate. You could be the Ultimate Radioshow Host too!”

Shooking his head fiercely, he decided he’d had enough attention for one day.

He’d rather stick to his detective work.

HIMIKO

She adored having someone else in the entertainment business to talk to.

You'd often get coerced into advertising for her magic shows that wouldn’t have an audience had it not been for you.

Today she was sitting next to you in the broadcasting room at Hopes Peak-- you were teaching her how to use the equipment in there and to have a more ‘showbiz’ type of energy in general to help with her magic shows.

“Aaaand a message from our sponsor; Himiko Yumeno!” You ended your lunch announcement jokingly.

“Um..! You all better get down to the gym after this, ‘cuz I’m gonna put on a show! It’s real magic, you can’t miss it!” Himiko said enthusiastically as she could.

She looked to you for validation after that, and you nodded reassuringly, motioning for her to close the broadcast to finish and go off-air.

“Haah, that was nerve-wracking.” Himiko exhaled.

“You only said a few lines.” You pointed out with a giggle.

“But still… Sometimes I even get shy talking to you… A lot of people gets embarrassing…”

“Oh? To me?”

“Yeah… ‘Cuz you’re really cute and super talented and all that! I think you’re really cool!” She exclaimed.  “And well… I really like you, __-san.” Himiko said more shyly this time.

You were stunned at the sudden confession, but you smiled warmly at her. “I like you too, Himiko-chan.”

You looked behind her as you did, noticing a blinking red light on the tabletop. ‘ON AIR’, it read. Oh god, you were still on the P.A-- Himiko didn’t turn it off properly. Realising this, you gave out a scream of embarrassment, and quickly slammed the button to turn off the broadcast.

There would surely be news about this all over the school.

RYOMA

By choice, Ryoma preferred the solitude. He often took pleasure in long walks

Your radio station had a glass window that was more like a transparent wall, letting people see into your workspace and observe you making broadcasts. There were people peering into it and crowding the path Ryoma was walking, and they seemed to line up the entire street.

Begrudgingly, he pushed past your fans outside holding up signs and screaming for your attention. Looking up, he raised an eyebrow to see what the commotion was all about. Beyond the glass was you, speaking into a mic with a headset on as you smiled.

He recalled your talent, the Ultimate Radioshow Host. It was no wonder you had gathered all this attention.

“__-chan, notice me!” Your fans were babbling as they waved erratically.  

“Heh, good luck with that.” He mumbled as he continued to walk. The two of you were in the same class and even then you didn’t notice him. He recalled the one and only interaction you two had together; you had bumped into him when you forgot who he was in your profuse apology.

“Ah, sorry um… What was your name again?” You tried to smile.

“Don’t worry, it happens. Ryoma Hoshi; Ultimate Tennis Player.” He shrugged.

“Ryoma Hoshi?” You repeated. “Oh my, you’re that--!”

“Yeah, that’s me. Don’t suppose you want an interview?” He said sarcastically, but you interpreted his question to be genuine.

“Ah, no sorry, I um-- My show’s not that kind of…” You trailed off, embarrassed at the situation.

“Don’t worry about it.” He said again. “I get it-- no one would want to listen to me anyhow.”

Awkward.

Since then Ryoma had seen you in class every now and then, but didn’t bother to interact.  

He’d never be able to match your energy, and he didn’t think you’d reach out to someone as pessimistic as him.

He was soon contradicted however when unexpectedly, when your eyes made contact, and you flashed him a smile, waving as you did. Stunned, he didn’t get to return the gesture-- you had already looked away to focus on your job, happy and relaxed expression still on your face as you chatted energetically into the mic.

He walked away pulling his beanie down, and a soft smile tugging on his lips that no one would ever get to see.

MAKI

As someone who could never be direct with her feelings, Maki was always too shy to talk to you sometimes, much less ask you out. With this, Maki made a habit of listening to you on air-- it was her way of ‘investigating’ your interests and hobbies; what kind of food you liked and what kind of gifts you liked to receive. She used the information wisely, and was pleased whenever it worked in her favour.

“You really made me a bento?” You squealed one day when she gifted you one. “Oh, and there’s even tempura-- my favourite! How did you know?” You exclaimed, pulling your eyes away from the lunch to look at her in

“Ah, I didn’t…” She lied, looking away to stroke her hair in embarrassment. “I just happened to make whatever and had a spare.”

“You make that much food? Wow~ The Ultimate Child Caregiver sure has a lot of mouths to feed.”

Truthfully, that was the only one she made specifically for you after she learnt it was your favourite on air among other things. It wasn’t stalking, she convinced herself. It was similar to the preparation she did for hits, only her assessments of you were for more… Personal reasons of interest.

You were currently on air discussing topics with random callers, when one in particular made Maki want to snap.

“__-san, are you currently dating anyone?” Someone had asked you.

“Hm~ Not right now! I’m waiting for ‘the one’, you know?”

Maki nodded a little smugly at this-- this meant she had a chance.

“Buuuuut, I do have someone I like. You want to know more about them? Well, sure.”

Maki’s smile dropped instantly. She absolutely didn’t want to hear the explanation of whoever you were interested in; it’d give her too much of an urge to kill. It was likely it was someone in your class; Shuichi or Shinguuji or someone equally irritating. Ignorance was bliss; she’d prefer to not let her image of any classmate get tainted by her bias.

It was unfortunate for Maki that she chose to abruptly turn off the radio, however, as your description would only be more information she’d take interest in:

“Long raven hair, deep cherry eyes, and a scowl that would make a chill run up anyone’s spine…~”

TSUMUGI

She gasped immediately when she saw you holding your recording device one day.

“That’s from that one show, isn’t it?” She exclaimed, and pointed to it in excitement.

“Huh?” You looked up. “Oh no, this is just my recorder!”

“But the detail on that thing!” Tsumugi was swooning. “It really looks like it could unfold and unveil your trap cards!”

You held it up, sweating profusely a little. “No really, it’s just a recorder… I don’t know what a ‘trap card’ is… It can pick up sounds and play them back to you. See?” You hit record and spoke into the machine, then hit play to demonstrate.

When she perked up hearing your voice play back, she suddenly grabbed it.

“Wooow! You could even have summoning voice lines on this thing! Seriously, __-chan, this is so cool~ ...If only it weren’t so plain looking.” She frowned. Her smile was quick to appear on her face again as she made a suggestion.

“You’ve gotta let me borrow it!” She said, starry-eyed. “I’ll just make some modifications-- decals, stickers, the works, you know!? It’ll only take a day or two!”

“What!? No, I’ve got a show tonight-- I need my recordings!” You said, trying to swipe it back. Her height rivalled yours however and she stood on her toes with the hand she was clutching the device in outstretched to the ceiling.

“That’s okay! I won’t let you go into battle without anything to summon!”

“Leave it to me, __-san!” She said enthusiastically as she dashed away in the direction of her lab, trying to shake you off her trail.

“Seriously, come back with that!” 

[birdiethebibliophile]

{fic} That Old Sweet Feeling (part 14)

Fandom:  The Adventure Zone:  Commitment Rating:  M Chapter Warnings:  Dissociation, descriptions of graphic violence (no violence actually takes place) Relationship:  Nadiya Jones/Mary Word Count:  1,862

Here on AO3. Read the rest: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

Tagging @someone-called-f1nch, @voidfishkid, @mellowstarscape, and @jumpboy-rembrandt!

I was going to split this chapter, but the first section was so short I decided to combine it. (This is one of those YOU REALLY MEAN SLOW BURN, HUH chapters. I’m sorry.)

Chapter Summary:  Mary listens to the voices in her head. Nadiya blanks out. Remy finds a friend.

__________________

Mary's head was full of static.

"So it was deliberate," Nadiya said. She had the rigid, mouth-tight look on her face she did whenever she was upset and didn't want to show it. Mary'd seen that look a lot in the short time she'd known Nadiya. "Fucking Martine took my research and twisted it into - into mind control. Fuck. Fuck."

Remy nodded. "And we all have that stuff in us now," he said." He still sounded like he was going to cry, and kept wiping his nose with his sleeve. "The stimplants and the oxytocin and everything. And the bonds are what make our powers activate when we're near each other. And she did something to - to my mom and dad, and -"

"Breathe, Remy," Nadiya said sharply. "Don't be a coward. We'll figure this out. It's my tech she's using, I can figure out a way around it."

"We should make camp for a few hours," Kardala said, her voice uncharacteristically quiet. "You are in no state to move, l- Remy. We have not slept in a long time. I, as a god, have no need for human things like that, of course, but I may as well join you in order to... recharge."

"Just a couple hours," Remy said. "Then... we have to keep moving. Have to figure this out."

Nadiya nodded, sitting down against a wall. "Of course we do. And we will. Obviously."

Kardala sat down as well, immediately closing her eyes. "Sleep well. I expect you all to be at your peak condition in order to solve this problem. Kardala does not want to be controlled."

"Yeah. Okay." Remy closed his laptop and put it back in his bag. Then he leaned on Nadiya's shoulder, since it was just the right height to lean against. She frowned, but didn't move away, just closed her eyes.

No one noticed that Mary's eyes were still open.

It felt like there was a short in her brain, fizzing and spilling electrical sparks across its surface. She'd been right. She'd been right all along. It was a conspiracy. The government was in on it, and Martine, and Richard, and Addison and Flanagan had probably been in on it too, and Remy's parents, and Nadiya's research, and probably Irene somehow or other, and she couldn't trust anyone. Everyone wanted to hurt Space Cadet.

She'd been right about this. How many other things was she right about? They all want to hurt her. They'll abandon her at the first opportunity. They’ll turn her in to the government, or to Martine, and Martine will lock her up and never let her go. She'll be pumped full of chemicals until she can’t remember her own name, until her brain melts out her ears, until she claws her skin off screaming. They'll throw her in jail like they did her parents, put her in a cell all by herself and throw away the key. They'll get Addison and Flanagan back, force her to shut down the electronics again, kill millions of people. They'll use her until she breaks, and then she'll disappear, like Remy's parents did.

She had to get out of here.

In a haze, she stood, silently gathered her things. She had enough food to be okay for a little while. Nadiya had shown them the way out of the sewers. She'd leave, hide, something. Away from the others.

It's the only way, the static told her. You can't trust them. You can't trust anyone. You can't even trust your own mind.

It felt like a vice around her chest, her throat, her head. She fought back the seizure that threatened the edges of her consciousness. She couldn't deal with that now. She had to lean into the static and get the fuck out of here, it didn't matter where to. She took the flashlight as well - they had Kardala, she could use her magic lightning-y powers or something. Or Nadiya had a little flashlight on her key ring. There was a little light from the dim fluorescents overhead. They'd be fine.

She shone the flashlight down the tunnel and set off, silently, quickly, and without a backwards glance.

 Nadiya jerked awake to Remy's panicked voice saying, "Mary? Mary? Oh, God -"

Nadiya was about to ask what was wrong, but as soon as she opened her eyes, it was obvious. It wasn't as much a problem with Mary as it was a problem without Mary. As in, she wasn't there at all.

"Shit." Nadiya's mind fed her fifteen different possible scenarios before she could even process what this meant. "Where is she?"

"I don't know," Remy said. His eyes were wide and panicked. "I woke up, and she was gone. No note, no - no nothing, she's gone." Nadiya could see him shaking.

"Let's – let's think this through," Nadiya said. "Looks like her stuff's gone. Plus, we're still here. She must've left on her own."

"Maybe, but what if Martine can use those bonds to control her and made her leave?" Remy clenched his hands into his hair at his temples.

"She would've done that before now," Nadiya said, trying to think logically. "Plus, Martine is locked up somewhere, remember? No, I think this is all Mary. We still have to find her, though."

"She could be anywhere," Remy said. He looked at his watch, took a sharp breath, and his hands moved to his face. "We've been asleep for hours. Hours and hours. You said it was only a few miles to the nearest exit. Or she could still be down here somewhere."

"She shouldn't -" Nadiya broke off. "Well, all we have to do is -" And stopped again. Mary hadn't left a trace. There was no telling where she could've gone. She couldn't make something out of nothing. She had to have evidence to draw a conclusion, and there was no evidence.

"I might be able to help," a soft voice said from behind her.

Both she and Remy jerked in surprise, and then Remy said "Irene!" and practically tackled her with a hug. "What are you doing here, there's still three of us, you shouldn't have -"

"Kardala let me out," Irene said in a strange voice. "She couldn't do anything to help find Mary, and she thought maybe I could."

Remy looked like he wanted to ask more questions, but Nadiya cut him off. "Can you?" she said, voice sharper than she meant it to be. Irene wasn't quite meeting her eyes, and she couldn't help remembering the last time they had talked.

"Yes," Irene said resolutely. "Remy, can I see the laptop, please?"

Remy hesitated, but passed it over. Irene opened it, sitting cross-legged on the floor. "This will depend on whether we can find a signal," she said, chewing on her lip. After a few minutes figuring out how the old laptop worked, she opened a spreadsheet and started typing things into it. Nadiya paced restlessly, resisting the urge to ask Irene if she really had to be that organized right now, if that was really her priority. Finally, Irene handed the laptop back to Remy. "There," she said. "Those are the names and information for everyone from the Fellowship. We need help, and information, and some of them probably knew Mary better than we do. I think we need to find someone. We can't do this on our own anymore."

Remy's face cleared slightly, and his fingers flew over the keyboard. "I have a signal - pretty faint, but there," he said. "Need to get this done fast so they don't notice..."

"We'll give you a little room," Irene said, and Remy nodded, clicking through pages already.

Reluctantly, Nadiya followed Irene a short distance away. The dim electric lights overhead barely illuminated her features, even a foot or two away as they were. Mary had taken the flashlight.

"Nadiya," Irene started, but Nadiya cut her off.

"I know," she snapped. "I was a jerk. I was mean. You needed to be pushed, we needed Kardala. I'm not sorry."

"You're right," Irene said. "We did need Kardala." She met Nadiya's eyes, held her gaze, and the brown of her irises seemed to catch Nadiya and hold her there in the dim light. "But now we need me."

Nadiya didn't know what to say to that. "Yeah," she finally said lamely. "We... you..." She closed her eyes, shutting out Irene's steady ones. "Thank you," she said stiffly.

"I understand your reservations about me, Nadiya Jones," Irene said, and Nadiya flinched a little – it felt like she was being scolded – "but we need to trust each other, and listen to each other, and that does not mean bullying or pushing your teammates until they do what you think is best. You need to consider the possibility that despite how smart you are, other people could have good points as well. We're in very real danger, and can't afford anything else. All right?"

"Okay," Nadiya mumbled. "Irene?"

"Yes?"

"It was a really good idea," Nadiya said. "Trying to find someone else from the Fellowship."

"Thank you." The set of Irene's shoulders relaxed. "Honestly, I don't know if it'll work, but it's a start, at least."

"Did you hear everything from last night? Before we fell asleep."

"I did, actually," Irene said.

"That's... different from before, isn't it?" Nadiya asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. "You can remember things from when you were her. Or - from when you - how would you put it?"

"That's a good a way as any," Irene said with a shrug. "I had a talk with her. Maybe that helped."

Before Nadiya could ask what the hell that meant and how it worked, Remy shouted. "I think I found somebody!"

Both Nadiya and Irene immediately went over to him, looking over his shoulder. "Who?"

"Jamie," Remy said, and Nadiya recoiled. "Looks like she's renting an apartment by the month outside of LA under the name Michael Commons. I have an address. It's not far, and it's not out of the question that Mary could've gone towards LA, hitchhiked or something."

"Does it have to be Jamie?" Nadiya groaned. "She's pathetic. She's a jerk."

"She's the only one I could find info on," Remy said, shaking his head. "Everybody else must've completely covered their tracks. I'm gonna..." He opened a message to Mary Sage, using the frequency she'd used in Halleluland, and dropped the address into it. "I don't know if she'll pick up on that, but I hope so. that'd be the best case scenario. That, or we run into Mary as we're leaving, catch up with her or she decided to come back or something..."

"I don't –" Nadiya started, but then cut herself off. She didn't have a better plan. Mary Sage was gone, they were still being hunted down by god-knows-who, and they were running low on food.

"Fine," she sighed. "Let's go see Jamie." And then, because she was having a lot of feelings and didn't know what to do with any of them, she said "Fuck," rather vehemently.

It didn't make her feel better.

[renegadesrpg]

Dark Angels:Creation Part 9B: First Contact #SL Crossover with #Rekindled: Part one: First Contact  -- Zav and Truely

Truely: I'd been walking along the beach enjoying the peace before my trip here ended. I had this crazy notion that it was time to get the tattoo I'd envisioned so long ago. My body vibrated with the need to do this now.  So, I wandered towards the buildings I'd seen earlier and looked to see if I might find a tattoo parlor among them. Sure enough, there was one and the open sign had just come on. What luck!

 As I entered the quiet shop, I heard the ding of the bell but my gaze was focused on the man I saw, his dark eyes and hair captured my attention immediately. I had a hard time pulling my focus away and replying when he asked if he could help me.

 Do you have time to do a quick tattoo this morning?" I smiled in hope he had the time as I would not have another chance.

  Zav: --While one part of my brain is telling me I need to pack this stuff up and focus on the mission, the other is slapping me around telling me, Hell, no, you don't let this woman walk out of the shop without being sure. Bryn's giving me "the look" which only she can give. Part ‘What the hell is this?' and part 'focus Zav'. Mentally I tap her brain, telling her 'I need to do this. It won't take long and besides, I needed to cancel appointments for the next few weeks. You can do that for me while I take care of this. My book's in the back.' Her eyebrow shoots higher but she only saunters off through the back curtain without saying a word. Clearing my throat, I practically turn into a damned puddle on the floor as the woman in the doorway smiles at me.—

 Ah... well, we were closing up for a few weeks, but, sure, I've got time to do something small. *gesturing to the table in my work space* Come in and we'll talk about what you want.

 Truely: Are you sure it's no trouble? I mean if you have pressing plans I don't want to interrupt them. It's just...well, I've been meaning to get one for a long time and now just seemed to be the moment.

 *smiles not quite sure why I'm babbling so much*

 Oh, you probably want to know what I'd like. *laughs* Sorry, not sure why I'm babbling but I guess it comes with first tattoo territory. On the inside of my wrist I'd like the word Meraki with a small flower attached at the end. Would that be doable today? If not I totally understand but could you recommend another place as I'm leaving tomorrow and not sure I can muster the courage again.

  Zav: --Let somebody else touch that perfect skin? I feel a growl forming inside me at the thought that I can't explain. Pushing away the thought I smile at her persuasively because I need her to stay—

 Nah, you don't want any hacks working on that perfect skin. I'm the best. I've got time if we do it right now. Have a seat and I'll draw something up to show you. Do you have a font or type of flower in mind?

 --Reaching into my station, I pull out a Surface-Pro.—

 I work by drawing out the basic design here for your approval, but I warn you, once I'm into it, I usually add things.

 -- I sit down on a stool as I gesture to my tattoo chair—

 Have a seat, please.

 --The aura I'd seen around her hadn't disappeared when she'd let the door shut. She still glowed to me. My heart was pounding with the idea she could be the one. She could be my Kalare, my clear, bright light. But I had to be sure. To hide my growing hope, I focus on her tat. –

 Did you want colors or just black ink?

 Truly: *His eyes drew me in and I sat where he asked. There was something magnetic about him but I couldn't explain why.*

 Black please. I'll let you pick the font and flower. I like simple things so it does not have to be fancy.

 *I smile as he looks at his pad typing in things*

 OH! Where are my manners. I didn't introduce myself...sorry. I'm Truely, Truely Goode. Pleasure to meet you- *I stuck out my hand waiting for his reply.*

  Zav: --I have to smile—

 "Truely Goode"? That's a lot of name to live up to. My name's Zav. Adams... Zav Adams

 -- I didn't really have a last name, but when Sin had taken "Adams" to use for business purposes in the human world, it had seemed like a good idea to keep the name in the family. The others had had last names in their human lives but only Sean still used his. Adrian, so far as I knew avoided doing anything that needed one and Bryn was content to be thought of by humans as Sin's and my little sister. Still, giving it doesn't come naturally unless I'm prepared for it. Reaching out to shake her hand, I slip her small soft one in my large calloused hand. And the shock is immediate. It runs through me like lightening as her soul speaks to my grace and I know. I KNOW. My eyes are locked on hers now as I try to keep it normal. She won't know, won't remember. It will take time and I could totally fuck this up and scare her away.—

 Nice to meet you Truely. You mentioned you were leaving tomorrow. I take it you're not from Miami?

  Truely: *His large hand grasps mine and, for an instant, there was a shock that almost caused a gasp to fall from my lips but I held it back.*

 I see you caught the cleverness of my name. *giggles* My parents are rather nerdy and thought it hysterically clever to name me Truely. Plus, they found it a true blessing when they adopted me so they found a couple of meanings for it. And, hey, it's an icebreaker!

 *giggles again at explaining my name. I always have to and never mind doing so but it still makes me giggle*

 Oh, no I'm not from here. I'm from a small town but here for a business conference. It finished this afternoon and I fly out tomorrow morning. That's why getting this tattoo done now is important.

  Zav: --Far enough she has to fly...I'll have to find a way to track her without seeming like a stalker. Smiling back at her, I ask –

 Where do you want your tattoo, so I can get an idea of how to size this?

  Truely: Here on the inside of my wrist, if possible. There's a birthmark there that you can cover up with the tattoo. Well, if that's even doable.

  Zav: --As I release her hand she flips it to show me her wrist and a wave of pain flows through me. Reborn souls who died a violent death in their last lives often carried a birthmark over the fatal wound into their next. I had no doubt that my Kalare had lived many lives since we were both slain, but the death was so brutal, so traumatic that her soul still carried the mark.

 The birthmark was a slightly raised jagged line that ran the width of her wrist. Today's medicine would have called it an oddly shaped hemangioma. But I knew what it was. I'd seen it happen. When Michael's forces had managed to subdue me and slain the rest of the village, he'd dragged Kalare and our son to me. He'd had me on my knees and stood behind me, his fist hauling my head back by my hair with a sword to my throat. Kalare had been fighting, trying to protect our son, but she was six months pregnant with our daughter and had also been trying to protect her. It was a losing battle no matter what. I'd been outnumbered and there was no help coming.

 Michael had held me and I'd watched them yank back my toddler son's head by his long dark curls and slit his throat, throwing him to the ground to let him bleed out. Kalare's screams still echoed in my nightmares. But not my son’s. He could make no sound as he choked on his own blood. No, it was his eyes, beseeching his father to protect him that haunted my dreams. And then it had been Kalare's turn. An angel had taken his sword and made a long, deep cut across her wrist slicing both vein and artery, then thrown her into the dirt in front of me. She'd bled out but it had taken what seemed an eternity.

 I had watched screaming, tears running down my face as she'd grown weaker. She'd managed to crawl to her knees in front of me and, one hand laid across her womb, she'd reached up with the other and caressed my cheek, telling me it wasn't my fault, that we'd meet again. Finally she'd grown so weak she had simply fallen to the ground, curled up and breathed her last. An example, Michael had said. We Grigori were to be an example to other angels about what happened when we disobeyed a "god" that I knew wasn't /my/ god at all. And then he'd slashed his sword across my throat and shoved me to the ground. I'd laid there in the pools of my wife and child's blood, the blue of my grace bleeding out and mixing with the red. And then they had left and the reapers had come.

Others had taken Kalare's and my son's souls as Sin had knelt beside me waiting for my death. It was written by the Fates he'd told me, and he could not interfere, even for an old friend. That had been early in his career, before even the Fates had been swayed by him. But rather than take me to the Great Sleep that awaited angels he offered me the opportunity to join him. Kalena's soul would move on, be reborn, he'd told me, but an angel's grace did not. We would never see each other again. By joining the reapers I could search for her and perhaps have a life with her again. And so I agreed to join my old friend and I'd been looking ever since.

 Until now. Until I finally found her. Inhaling slowly, I turn her wrist from side to side as though inspecting it before answering.—

 I think we can cover that up very well with a heavier font.

 --Releasing her wrist, I pick up the tablet and select an slanted font that hovered between script and print, then typed in "meraki", then added a small daisy off the end of the "i".—

 Is this what you are looking for?

  Truely: Oh, that is perfect. *my excitement evident in my voice* Is it normal to be excited and nervous about a tattoo? Because I am, but I've learned to listen when my inner voice speaks. Maybe you were meant to be the one to do it? *I giggle* You did say you are the best.

  Zav: --smiling at her—

 Yes, I am. I believe I was meant to do this, to be here when you were ready.

 --Taking her upturned wrist again in my hand, I can't resist letting my thumb slide across the birthmark in a gentle caress, silently promising her that badge of trauma will be obliterated from her skin and soul.—

 This is a pretty simple tattoo, but it's your first, so being excited is normal. --laughs-- I don't normally do newbees. Generally I'm by appointment only and my clientele is pretty select. So you might say walking into my shop today was fated.

 --Reluctantly I release her wrist and hit send on my pad, releasing it to be printed on transfer paper. The printer on the counter behind me hummed to life and spat out the design. –

 And this... --reaching for the print out--will transfer on your skin. Then I'll work from that.

  Truely: That's amazing. So, you don't normally do newbies? I'm honored that you are doing mine then. *I smile* My employees never thought I'd actually get one. I've talked about it for so long but the time just never felt right, until now. Sorry, babbling again. *I chuckle*

  Zav: You're not babbling at all. --smiling as I get out the antibacterial soap to begin prepping the skin-- I'm interested. What kind of shop do you have?

  Truely: *I sit up a little straighter as you start disinfecting my skin* I own a bakery. Best variety of sweet rolls in the country. *smiles*

  Zav: A bakery, huh?

 --Kalare was always a great cook and she'd loved baking breads. I can only imagine what she'd have done with modern ovens and spices. Intently I watch her wrist as I position the transfer paper –

 So where might I find these sweet rolls --looking up at her and smiling. -- I ride, and once in a while I get an urge to just take off across country. I might stop in and sample some.

  Truely: I own Truely Goode Sweet Treats in Pascoe, Oregon. It's a small town but very pretty and peaceful. And yes, the bakery name was my choice. Figured I might as well make good use of my parents’ cleverness. *laughs hard* Oh that will look great! *I say as I see the placement of the parchment paper* Really, thank you for taking the time to do this for me. *I touch your hand as it fiddles with the paper* I appreciate it.

  Zav: --Electricity flows through me again at her touch. All I want to do is grab her and hold her against me, I'm so damned grateful to have found her again, but that's a sure way to convince this mortal I'm crazy. Instead, I put an iron grip on myself and answer her in an easy voice as I peel away the paper—

 I'd say it was a smart marketing tool. Pascoe... Is that near the coast?

 --sitting back on my stool as I discard the transfer paper—

 Take a look and make sure I got it right.

  Truely: Perfect! *I'm so excited I can barely sit still. This was such the right time to do this*

 Oh, Pascoe is about 30 minutes from the coast. Close enough for us to visit often and, also, to bring the tourists our way. I hope you get to make it there, I think you'd like it. So, what's next?

  Zav: --Her enthusiasm and sunny nature would make her hard to resist even if our souls weren't mated. I smile at her as I stand—

 Now comes the hard part. I'm going to raise the arm on the chair to a comfortable height for me as I sit on the stool. You need to lay your wrist on and hold it completely still. The needle gun will make a low buzzing sound. It's going to sting and it will probably bleed a little bit. There are a lot of blood vessels in that area. But as a baker I'm betting you've burned yourself on a hot oven a time or two and it won't hurt nearly as much as that. I'm going to put some ink in one of these cups. If you ever get another tattoo,

 --and she will be doing it with someone else over my cold, dead body—

 make sure they don't dip right in the ink and that they use a fresh cup and fresh needle for you for each color they use. Tattoos are safe if your artist follows protocols but you there are always sleazes who don't.

 --turning my back to block your sight, I lay out a small ink cup. Before pouring ink in, I use a fresh needle to prick my finger and squeeze out several drops of my iridescent blue grace. As I begin to mix it I get a strange feeling... it's earth magick, mixed with Sean's touch on my mind. Pausing, I look up for a moment and reach out to him. He laughs and informs me we are now part of a pack. Mentally I laugh. I'm not sure how Sin will take this but Bryn will be delighted. Taking his assurance that this is a good thing, I focus back on mixing the ink with my grace until the brilliant blue fades into it. When I’m finally satisfied, I smile. This will be part of her skin and there will be nowhere on any plane that I cannot find her. Turning back to her I set the cup down on the small tray beside my stool that holds my needle gun. Raising the arm of the chair I secure it firmly and position her wrist carefully.—

 Ready to do this?

  Truely: Absolutely. *I steady my breathing, my nerves ebbing a bit at his secure, confident touch* Let's do this!

 Zav: --I lay my left hand on her arm to help steady her wrist as I begin. It's always a jolt at first, especially for a tattoo virgin. Intently, I focus on the transfer as the gun buzzes, making sure to follow the outlines and pausing occasionally to wipe away blood. –

 Meraki... so tell me Truely Goode, do you put a bit of your soul into your sweet rolls?

 --I'd recognized the ancient Greek word and smiled internally when she'd told me. It was so like the soul I had known so long ago.—

 If you do, I can believe they are the best in the country.

 Truely: *I smile wide* You know the word? I found it in a book many years ago and it's been a favorite ever since. And yes, I put a bit of my heart and soul into my treats. I don't think there is any other way to do something you love than to put a bit of yourself into it. I'm sure you are the same with your art, your tattoos. If you weren't, you wouldn't be the best...right?

 Zav: --laughing softly to myself, because I /am/ truly putting a part of myself in Truely—

 Yes, I do. It's part of who I am. Whether following my vocation or my avocation, I do put myself into it.

 --I was so focused on doing the tattoo that I'd let that slip accidentally. Of course, she had no way of knowing that being a tattoo artist wasn't my true work. She'd assume it was my vocation. If she asked what my avocation was, I'd have to come up with something but I really don't want to lie to her. It doesn't feel right. But neither does saying 'I'm an ancient supernatural entity that just happened to be married to your soul 35,000 years or so ago.' She'd run out of here screaming.—

 Doing ok there? We're almost done.

  Truely: Oh yes, it's a bit like a bee sting so not bad at all. How long does it take to heal usually? Aside from riding what do you do to have fun? *I didn't want him to stop talking. His voice was soothing.

 Zav: What do I do to have fun?

 --I echo her question because, I'm not really sure. Reaping is normally busy and lately....it's been consuming. The tat shop was my creative outlet and riding my emotional one. –

 I like the beach. I've got a friend who surfs and has been after me to try it but I've been too busy lately. Once in a while I'll have a few drinks with a friend but I'm not into bar scenes.

 --laughing a little, because I like biker bars—

 Well, not your touristy pick-up bar scenes. If I'm going to have a beer I usually pick someplace gritter. More guy focused.

 --turning off the tattoo gun, I lay it down and wipe away some blood.—

 This will be a little red and swollen for a day or two. It's probably going to bleed for a couple of hours so I'm going to wrap it in saranwrap. After that it’s safe to take off. It will itch and scab. DON'T scratch it. Put A&D or Aquaphor on it two or three times a day. You can get it wet in the shower but no pools, lakes or oceans until the scabbing is completely gone. About 10 days should do it. Keep it out of the sun, so it's good it's your last day here. No sunbathing today and I hear it rains a lot in Oregon so it shouldn't be too hard to keep it out of the sun. If the redness doesn't go away in a couple of days, or it gets hot or has a discharge go to a doctor, ok?

 --It will never happen. With my grace in the ink it will be healed before she steps on a plane but she needs to hear the normal spiel about aftercare.—

 Take a look and tell me what you think.

  Truely: It's beautiful! Exactly how I pictured it. Thank you so much. *I whisper as I stare at his work* I promise, no major amounts of sun. Totally doable since I'm always in my shop and not big on sunbathing. See, my maternal grandfather had a lot of skin cancer issues from his farming days. And even though I'm not genetically able to get it, I don't wanna chance it either. It was hard watching it grow on him and be cut off over and over.

  Zav: That must have been very hard to see as a child. And you’re smart, because most skin cancers are caused by sun damage.

 --Unable to resist it, I raise my hand to lightly run the back of my fingers along her jawline, murmuring—

 And you do have very lovely, fair skin. It would pain me for something like that to happen to you....

 --suddenly aware I'd been leaning in, I pull back and drop my hand. In that moment I had almost forgotten...—

 Here, let me wrap that for you.

 --the blood had already almost stopped oozing, but I dabbed it with sterile gauze anyway before wrapping it gently in clear plastic wrap. –

 Just a couple of hours for that. And here... --grabbing some Aquaphor samples out of a drawer-- This will keep you until you get home. I don't know if your luggage is all carryon, but airlines have gotten so tough on the sizes of liquids they let you put in one. This way you won't have to buy any until you get home.

 Truely: *His touch was so loving and gentle. I leaned into it before realizing he had pulled it away*

 Thank you for the samples. I can put them in my suitcase.

 *I watch him as he wipes and wraps my wrist. Not wanting his touch to stop but not fully understanding why. I just know I could sit there forever with his hand on me. I clear my throat forcing the thoughts to leave* How much?

  Zav: --I know what I'd like to ask for. Just the brush of her lips on mine. But it’s too soon for that. Instead, I just say—

 How about a dozen of those sweet rolls when I make it to Pascoe? And dinner out while I'm there. We'll call it square.

  Truely: *I get up to go, slowly* Oh really? I mean you took time out of your schedule and everything to do this for me. You don't want more than sweet rolls and dinner?

  Zav: --standing as she gets up, I finally can't resist any longer. I gently take her chin between thumb and forefinger and tilt it up. Leaning down, I brush my lips across hers. More a promise than a kiss.—

 That’s all I want Truely. That and to see you again. It's all I need.

  Truely: *His kiss is unexpected and too quick. It needed to last. I smile and just stare into his eyes. The drive to stay is strong and I'm not sure why but I'm thrilled he wants to see me again.* I want to see you again too Zav. Do you have a favorite fruit?

  Zav: Hmmm.... a fruit?

 --right now my favorite taste is her lips. They're sweetly cinnamony and her fragrance reminds of me of apple orchards in the fall –

 Apples. I like apples. --teasing her a little-- Are you already planning something special?

  Truely: *I smile* Yes, I am. *I take a deep breath* Well, I guess I should probably go. Let you get back to what you were doing before I interrupted. *Why did it hurt to say that?* Thank you again Zav, I love it. You are very talented. *I touch his cheek briefly then give him a peck before forcing myself out the door.*

  Zav: --My hand goes to my cheek as my eyes follow her out the door and I regret not getting a telephone number but how hard can it be finding a telephone number for Truely Goode Sweet Treats in Pascoe Oregon? It might be a while before I can actually bike up there and just misting into town without my bike would raise questions. And besides, I don't want to bring trouble to her doorstep. I need to get this crap with the Horseman settled and demons off my back. –

 Goodbye Truely Goode. --my voice follows her out the door-- You'll be hearing from me soon.

[jirdan-does-art]

DR Sprite Edit Tutorial!

So this has been in the making for a couple of months due to a lot of art blocks and stuff, but!! I think this will help some people who have asked for some advice on how to draw your ocs dr ocs in the DR style (or at least close to it)! I’m gonna try and make this as simple as possible without all the complicated steps!

Just to say it now, I use Paint Tool SAI and I have the download file as well for anyone who would like it as well. The download link will be at the bottom as well. This is gonna be long so bear with me!

Let’s get to it!

Okay so first off!! You wanna have a ref of your oc! I usually use dreamselfy cause it gives you a lot of options (I used the japanese version and the simulator to put it all together. If you guys want those links, I’ll put them down at the bottom for you guys.)

This is an old character of mine named Kagami that I’m gonna use, they needed a redesign and to be re-written so I thought this would be the best opportunity for them! They are non-binary and so I think the best base sprite to use is Ibuki’s! It fits their body type. 

What I’m gonna do first in sai is load the sprite into it and lower the opacity and add another layer on top of it. (I also load the ref in there next to the base sprite so that I have something to look off and draw it how I want it.)

This is the brush I will be using for all the lineart:

(I tend to keep my stabilizer on 3 so that it gives me a little more steady lines when i draw)

The first thing I do is trace one side of the sprite on the new layer. It’s important to remember to make sure the lines are clean and it’s okay to redo the line as many times as you need until you get it to how you want it!

After this I’ll take the layer, copy, paste it and then flip the layer and line it up to the other side like so:

Now before I do anything, I start on the face so that I won’t forget it later or that it doesn’t look too unproportional to the face when I draw the hair. I’ll repeat the same thing I did for the bust in the previous image and go from there.

If you see off to the left, I’ve made separate layers for the eyes, mouth and eyebrows. This is really important that you do this if you want to make expressions for your oc to use in posts and such! Plus it’s just nice to have it all separated. You’re going to now start drawing the hair! Now Kagami’s hair is really simple, I’m going to draw it as I see it until I get it to what I want it to look like! Make sure the hair is on a separate layer so that you can erase what you don’t need of the head.

Now that I have their hair done, I’m going to make sure that the hair is on another layer before making it invisible so that I can start on the clothing. You’ll add another layer and begin drawing on that. It’s important to note that clothing folds, it moves, and makes the character look a little bigger. It happens often that you can draw too many folds and wrinkles or too little. Points where limbs can move tend to have more wrinkles placed near them on clothing. 

So i’ve drawn half the jacket, and to make it so much easier on myself, I’m going to copy, paste and flip it to put it on the other side, and then add the scarf and some other details to make it a little less like I copied and pasted it. (I ended up changing a few things because I am indecisive, but overall you should have a complete outfit on your oc.

What you’re going to have to do next is get rid of the excess lines from the bust layer and make it to where lines aren’t going through each other. You’re gonna wanna do that with the hair layer as well, erasing things that don’t need to be there. After some time of cleaning up lines and erasing, I now have the lineart of my sprite!

Now the next step is very important, it’s how you make your sprite transparent. Circled in Green is what you want to click on and you're gonna click on the outside of the sprite so that it looks like this:

Circled in green on the sprite is spaces where you want to use the select tool (that’s in the brushes) to fill in the empty spaces. After you get it filled in, you want to go to the top where it says ‘Selection’ next to the ‘Layer’ dropdown and click invert. Your sprite should look something like this:

The next thing you want to do is create another layer. Take the color white and use the bucket tool ON THE NEW LAYER. The sprite should be completely whited out. On that layer, you’re going to want to set the layer to multiply so that you can see the sprite again. That layer with the white on it, merge it with the lineart layer. Create another layer and set that layer to a clipping layer (circled in red). The layer should be set to ‘Multiply’ as well. Now what you can do is color on the sprite without having to erase! Like so:

This is what your layers should look like!

The clipped layer should be the layer you color on! I personally only use 1 or 2 layers to color so I’m just gonna do ahead and use 2 layers to make it easy. You want to use the first layer for the base color:

Make another clipped layer and met it to multiply so that you can start shading. You want to use colors that are a little bit darker so that the shading looks a little more natural. Rule number 1: NEVER shade with black, unless the base color you’re shading is black itself. It causes the shaded part to look muddy and you don’t want that. It’s hard to explain shading and how you do it because it depends on where your light source is. The light source on this sprite is coming in from the right, so most of the darker areas will be on the left. 

Now when you color the eyes, you want to create another layer under the eye layer and color the inside of the eye white. Merge the eye layer and that layer you colored and create another layer on top of it and set it to ‘Multiply’. I would look up a ref of another dr character and see how the eye is colored and shaded there because I tend to do it a bit differently. After you’ve colored it, merge the two layers again and then you’re all set! You should now have a sprite!

When you go to save, save it as a .png file. It will prompt you with this:

Click the second one so that it turns out like this: (If you drag it around you can see that there’s no white background, making it transparent!)

Congrats!! You did it! Sprite editing takes time to get used to and it's not always eyes, but all I can do is urge you to practice. It’s the only way you learn and get better. You don’t have to take everything that I said seriously, either. If there’s something that works better for you that you’ve found a lot easier, then do it! It’s all about doing it how you want to and what makes it fun for you! Art should be fun to draw, isn’t that the whole point?

I hope you guys found this really helpful!! I’m actually really impressed with this sprite it came out better than I thought. 

Thank you for reading!!

Here are the links from the top!

SAI Download: [Link]

Dreamselfy Simulator: [Link]

Dreamselfy @Trade: [Link]

[junker-town]

The Denver Nuggets have the NBA’s most disappointing player. What can they do?

What’s wrong with Gary Harris?

The Nuggets can’t be champions without Gary Harris.

There are two questions worth asking about Gary Harris right now. Both are critical for the Denver Nuggets, and their climb towards the NBA title: “What happened?” and “What if he turns it around?”

Two years ago, when Harris was 23, only two players his age averaged more than his 17.5 points per game: Joel Embiid and Giannis Antetokounmpo. The bubbling optimism that surrounded Denver’s young core was amplified by Harris’ breakout campaign, how he so perfectly complemented Nikola Jokic and Jamal Murray in a league increasingly infatuated with athletic three-point shooters who could not be bullied on the other end.

Denver appeared to have one franchise center (to say the absolute least), one franchise point guard, and one complementary franchise do-it-all on the wing. The Nuggets lost their last game and barely missed the playoffs, as a sprained right knee kept Harris out for 11 of the season’s final 13 games.

That year only 24 players had a usage rate above 20 and a true shooting percentage higher than 59. Of them, six averaged more minutes than Harris: LeBron James, Antetokounmpo, James Harden, Karl-Anthony Towns, Anthony Davis, and Damian Lillard. Not the worst company!

Even as he battled injuries last season, Harris’ future was bright. He was ascendent, graceful, and, in theory, exactly what every good team in the league wishes it had. He acquitted himself and advanced expectations in his first taste of the playoffs. But today, with Harris as arguably the most disappointing player in the league, his play may be a requiem for their own championship aspirations.

Development is not linear and there are myriad ways to describe any one player’s unforeseeable stagnation, but the reality is Harris went from doubling as an integral present-day contributor and precious trade asset, to a big reason why his team can’t scratch the ceiling they otherwise could. The past few weeks have been a particularly dark nadir. In his last 20 games Harris is averaging 8.7 points, shooting 35.2 percent from the floor and 23.9 percent behind the three-point line. Over his last 15, the Nuggets have been outscored by three points with Harris on the court.

His usage rate is a career-low 15.3. His PER is 9.0. Only three players are afforded at least 30 minutes per game despite a True Shooting percentage that’s below 0.50: Harris, Darius Garland, and R.J. Barrett. This is an epic fall. Two years ago, Harris shot 69 percent at the rim and 40 percent beyond the arc. This season he’s down to 58 and 30 percent, respectively. In last year’s 14-game playoff run he only scored in the single digits one time. This year he’s crossed the 20-point barrier once, and finished with nine or fewer points in 24 of the 42 games he’s appeared in.

Harris is 25 years old, guaranteed $39 million over the next two seasons, and has the ninth-highest usage out of everyone who’s played at least 500 minutes on his own team. That is bad. It’s easy to say if his struggles continue and Denver still wishes to meet the championship goals they’re young enough to reach for, Harris should be exchanged for a different puzzle piece. But how many teams will look at his decline and believe it’s salvageable enough to fork over something the Nuggets believe can help them?

When players fall off, usually there are hints that allow us to draw rational conclusions. Mike Conley’s decline can superficially be blamed on age and his entrance into a new system. The same can be said about Al Horford, who’s also confronting a positional overlap with Embiid. Jokic’s early-season slump was thanks to his bloated waistline.

Harris is harder to decode. What’s happening to him may be explained away by health issues he’s battled over the past two years, including the tight adductor he’s currently playing through that also bothered him last season. Hips, thighs, groins, and hamstrings are delicate parts of the body for a player in Harris’ role, be it on hard cuts into the paint off Jokic’s high-post orchestration or how he needs to fight through screens and lock down his assignment on the other end. But if health were the only reason for a slide this extraordinary it’s worth wondering if Denver’s medical staff would even let Harris play. And he probably wouldn’t be able to do stuff like this:

Then again, later in the same game, this probably wouldn’t happen either:

The Nuggets have a closer eye on this than anybody else, and maybe they have an educated guess or verifiable way to explain Harris’ plummeting impact on offense. (He was indirectly picked to over Malik Beasley, which isn’t the wrong choice, but a decision with an uncertain outcome nonetheless.) Recent comments by Nuggets head coach Mike Malone didn’t divulge any definitive answers to a worrisome curiosity:

“When you watch Gary in practice, when you watch him work out in his (player development) sessions, he’s been shooting the ball lights out,” Malone said. “So now hopefully, after some time off, going back, spending some time with his son, his family and just relaxing ... hopefully he can just go out there and play and not put whatever pressure he’s putting on himself. Just relax and play.”

If nothing else, Harris’ season is a reminder that sports will forever traffic in the unexplainable and random. Nothing is guaranteed and many statistics aren’t predictive.

Projecting out where he was two years ago with where he should be today, the contextual comparisons make his play even more disheartening. During the 2017-18 season, Harris had to navigate lineups that had Jokic and Mason Plumlee in the same frontcourt. Murray wasn’t the playmaker he is now, Jokic wasn’t the singular attention-grabbing force, and thousands of additional possessions that have transpired since with Paul Millsap, Murray, Jokic, and either Will Barton or Torrey Craig by his side should bolster the long-standing chemistry that gives Denver an advantage over most of its opponents

This naturally leads us to wonder how the Nuggets would look if Harris returns to his old form and makes defeating the Nuggets four times in seven tries the Himalayan hike it should be. Harris averaging, say, 20 points per game — one-third of of them thanks to 40 percent shooting beyond the arc — and then paring it with elite on-ball defense, would help slice the margins that currently sit between Denver and the LA teams. Their offense would sparkle more vividly than it currently can in tight spots — meaningful, considering the Nuggets already have the sixth-highest offensive rating in the league.

Right now 76 percent of Harris’ two-point field goals are assisted. Two years ago that number was 18 percent lower. That helpful offensive fragmentation would allow Malone to utilize Harris in different ways, perhaps commandeering his own bench unit, flashing some of the playmaking chops that have otherwise been static. (Harris plus bench groups have been successful in a small sample size.) What about in ways that unlock a more lissome side altogether, with Jerami Grant and Michael Porter, Jr. turbo-energizing the frontcourt? With more dependable offense, Harris’ defensive versatility would permit some creativity.

(“I think you’d be hard-pressed to find a better perimeter defender in the league,” Nuggets general manager Tim Connelly told me earlier this season, during a conversation about the positive impact continuity had on their defense.)

Instead, Harris has traded a sharp blade for a blunted fencer’s foil. His drives to the basket have dropped. He’s finishing fewer possessions as a pick-and-roll ball handler. He’s averaging nearly 10 fewer frontcourt touches than he did in 2018.

His evolving surroundings might help clarify some of the remaining question marks, but as an excuse that’s nothing more than speculation, and one that conflicts with common sense: The lower your usage rate, the more efficient you should be. Since his third season, Harris has had to adjust to the addition of Millsap, Barton’s development, and, more recently, Porter’s very existence. These players deserve the ball, and it’s not like Denver’s making a mistake when it chooses to run offense through them.

Sacrifice is usually a good thing, but if Harris can’t use it to his advantage a world where he gets the sunshine he needs to blossom might be one where the Nuggets find their best self. All that might mean is more opportunities to sprint out of the corner for his signature dribble hand-off with Jokic, an action that hums to a melody only their ears can hear. It’s a devil to deal with, especially when the opponent sticks a smaller defender on him:

What’s happened to Harris, for whatever reason, is a pothole the Nuggets couldn’t see on their 100 mile-per-hour drive towards the NBA’s upper echelon. Porter is the core-elevating supplement who may one day be their second-best player, but while they wait for that to happen (while keeping in mind that there are no guarantees) consistency from Harris is what can take them from boutique to high fashion.

Sometimes Harris still moves like he used to. Sometimes he’ll rip through a closeout, rumble towards the paint, and finish strong through or over the rim protection. Sometimes he’ll go off the bounce with his arms low to bait the defense. Sometimes he’ll epitomize the ideal role player.

The Nuggets would not be a favorite to win the championship even if Harris followed his old trajectory, but sometimes is a word for dreamers. And unless he fixes his shot, stays healthy, and regularly exudes the same confidence that once made Denver’s ceiling feel limitless, becoming anything more will be much harder than the Nuggets ever thought it’d be.

[juniglee]

Burwood, NSW Locals Report - 2/6/2019

Hi all once again,

I haven’t been writing much recently, as I haven’t really been wowed by any deck I’ve been trying recently. I have been actively avoiding playing stuff like Mono Water, Earth/Wind and the likes - just anything that seems meta really - in favour of trying out other decks with relatively uncommon colour combinations (e.g. Ice/Wind, Lightning/Wind), or just having a different playstyle compared to the tempo playstyle I am so used to (e.g. mill).

In general, the reason I don’t feel I’m too wowed by most decks I’m trying is basically Veritas. I know there’s quite a lot of complaints about him by the online community, and in all regards, I regard Veritas as generally a fair card. The reason why I don’t feel wowed trying decks without Veritas is because Veritas is just way too efficient of a removal, and is otherwise too generic. For example, I like cards like Rain, Light Yuna, Nidhogg, Yuri, etc., but at the moment, Veritas’ instant value kinda makes me not want to give up my Light/Dark slot for non-Veritas. Mayhaps this is more of a game design issue. 

In NSW, one of the stores with the largest FF communities is probably none other than Burwood. We gather here pretty much every Sunday, but the first Sundays of every month are a little bit special - there’s a little more prize support than the usual locals (e.g. the top 8 players get foil promos instead of top 1 as with most locals), so in general, I expect most people generally tend to try a bit harder on this day. Sort of like a little regionals, I’d say!

On this day, I topped the monthly locals with this deck: https://ffdecks.com/deck/5160654155546624. Full credits goes to a good friend of mine, Vincent Chong, for coming up with the deck - he himself was orignally inspired by this list: https://ffdecks.com/deck/6577016233000960.

I have been playing this deck for about 3 weekends straight, so I think I have some decent practice with it. Without further ado, here’s the deck breakdown:

Rikku (1-089H) - it isn’t really a mill deck without this Rikku, is it? 3-of, no questions. If you get a hand with this on Turn 1, in general it’s a straight keeper.

Yuna (1-176H) - one of the best anti-meta cards right now. Also forms a good package with Paine (1-199S) and Rikku (1-089H) as above.  She’s incredibly important, for your removal, while packing a lot, is still relatively limited. You generally want to drop her whenever you are able to. If you have nothing to bounce with her entry effect, you can always bounce your own Zidane/Paine/Thief so that you can re-play again. As an aside, since this deck only has 8 Water cards, I would generally suggest not pitching any of them unless you have to, until Yuna is on the field.

Paine (2-063R) - actually more important than Paine (1-199S) in this deck. This card is literally what helps keep the deck consistent. You almost always search this off Shinra (6-048C) if you can, if you haven’t gotten your Rikku/Yuna backups out. This Paine also means you can essentially survive off the 14 backups (not counting Rikku (2-071R) as you’ll never play her) that this deck plays, as she generally translates to backup search, regardless of being played from hand, or triggered as an EX Burst.

Shinra (6-048C) - if you don’t open with Rikku (1-089H), but you open with this guy, still a keeper hand. If you do not need to search for either Paines, you can always use this to search for Rikku (1-201S)!

Rikku (1-090R), Rikku (1-201S), Rikku (2-071R) - basically special fodder. You’ll almost never play them in favour of Rikku (1-089H). All of them can be searched by Paine (2-063R), but Rikku (1-201S) also has the added benefit of being searchable by Shinra as above. In hindsight, I’d probably cut the other Rikkus to put in more Rikku (1-201S) or Rikku (6-062R), as it would increase the number of cards that you can get via Shinra if needed.

Paine (1-199S) - less important than Paine (2--063R), but she’s generally what you want to see once your board is set up anyway. 7k body is somewhat relevant for blocking, and she makes a good Miounne/Yuna target on your end. As an aside, for the mill game, on 5 backups, you can mill your opponent by 1, then paying with the remaining 3 to play Paine, to re-activate Rikku and any other Wind backup, so you can mill again.

Zidane (3-056H) - one of the strong cards that everyone complains about. You’ll need him to be able to pick out cards like Hecatoncheir (1-117R) or copies of Celes/Edward, that may otherwise disrupt your game plan. Also a good Miounne/Yuna target if needed.

Thief (4-059C) - if you have nothing to do, and can spare 1 CP, just drop this guy. Excellent Famfrit tech, and you can also bounce with Miounne to draw a card, AND make your opponent mill 1. Some pretty good value! Valefor (1-062L) and Yuna also bounces this guy to make your opponent mill 1 as well.

Veritas of the Dark (8-136L) - I don’t think much needs to be said about this guy, and what he brings to the table. Very potent with Yuna (1-176H) on the field, and unless your opponent also plays the same Yuna, you are likely to out-value your opponent’s Veritas. If you’ve got too many cards, you can always play Miounne on him to bounce him back to your hand and draw a card, so you can re-play again later.

Sherlotta (8-053H) - the general game plan for the early game, is to try and set up 2 CP backups as quickly as possible. Sherlotta can eventually become Water CP if needed to play Yuna or any of your Water summons in a pinch if needed. You can also sac Sherlotta to play Asura to re-activate your backups so that you can play more backups, or mill more, etc.

White Mage (6-047C) - a really good tech card. Since Yuna doesn’t cover cards used to pay for cost, White Mage can really disrupt your opponent’s Gladiator/Devout/Miner/Tama/Ajido-Marujido/etc’s plan. In the mid and late game, you should almost always be sitting on CP anyway to be able to crack White Mage for value when needed.

Miounne (5-067R) - another really good card that doesn’t need much introduction. You have many good targets you can bounce (e.g. either Paines, Zidane, Thief, White Mage, and Veritas) and re-play again for value.

Asura (2-049H) - this card has many uses. You can activate a dull/frozen Forward to block and prevent a point of damage if required, but you’ll generally use it more either for the backup line re-activate, or to take a copy of any of your 2 CP Rikku cards from the break zone to Mug again.

Valefor (1-198S) - one of the best value cards in a YRP engine. Mill 1, play this to re-activate backups and deal 3k to a board, and then follow up with either more mill, or Diabolos. The chain possibility is quite endless with this card.

Valefor (1-062L) - this card has been something of an unsung hero for me. Resets the board state, preventing a whole turn of damage. Exceptionally potent for this deck if played on a board of Vikings, or if you control a Thief or two, as it speeds up your game plan as well.

Leviathan (1-178R) - I find I almost never cast this card. It’s mainly used for CP to pay for Yuna, or otherwise often triggered as an EX Burst. As an aside, you can always bounce your own cards with this card, as described for Miounne above, to re-play again.

Alexander (8-046R) - somewhat feels like one of the weaker removal summons in the deck. Being able to hit the likes of Fat Chocobo, Miner, Star Sibyl, Snow, etc. is really nice however. I don’t often play this card, but if you have spare CP to use, this is not a bad card to play when you can.

Diabolos (5-062L) - remove Forwards, mill more, combat tricks. This card does a lot, and gains a lot of value when you have a full backup line.

Chaos, Walker of the Wheel (3-071H) - Yuna H + Chaos Walker combo, always run this card if you run Yuna H. One of the best value Forward removals.

Famfrit, the Darkening Cloud (3-123R) - same for Chaos. One of the best value removals in this deck. Helps you get around cards like Delita and Ardyn.

Madeen (8-133H) - a one-of, for when you manage to somehow be able to get a board wipe for value. Gives you some additional board control, but oftentimes it can be hard to cast for 6. You play this over Ark, as being the mill aggressor, you don’t actually want to be drawing cards for removing a lot of Forwards, plus it has an additional 1000 power cap higher than Ark. Be wary of Leviathan (6-125R) however, as it has the potential to reduce your Madeen to an expensive nothing. Killing your own Thief or Veritas with this card can also lead to additional value.

The general game plan is: set up Rikku, Yuna and a 3rd backup as soon as possible. At 3 backups, you have a lot of options that you can play, as a lot of your removal are odd costed. Shinra into Paine will give you the consistency you need if you don’t open with Rikku. If you open with Rikku, use Paine to search for Yuna instead.

Also remember: points of damage counts as milling too! If you see an opportunity to attack, take that point of damage. There will be some decks where you can’t just sit back and mill them out - if you have to go aggressively at your opponent, Yuna H and removal will see your small bodies through. I’ve won a few games 7-1 and 7-2 because my opponent couldn’t setup, and I was largely dealing damage with O2 Paine, Thief, Zidane, and even Veritas.

Here’s a write up for the rounds I played today:

Round 1 (Bye) - yeah, we had 15 players, so 4 rounds of swiss today. I actually got a bye. Nothing much to write about here, I went for a coffee run for some of my friends.

Round 2 (Ice/Water) - this is an interesting deck that I’d also like to try out someday. The deck generally uses 4 cost or above cards, and Agrias L from O7. The only Agrias target in that deck is basically either Garland (IX) or searcher Laguna from O6, who is used to search O1 4CP Squall. Otherwise, the deck only has about 9 backups, and has about 17 - 18 summons, and uses Forward Minwu from O6 as well. I expected the matchup to be quite rough,as this deck generally requires some turns to set up the backup line, and my opponent was already running at me with 3 to 4 Forwards, including a Garland (IX) which messed up my CP management. I only managed to stabilize due to a string of EX bursts - I casted Famfrit on my opponent’s turn when they attacked, then they attacked into another Famfrit. Once I was able to keep his board down, I had no problem eventually stabilizing and milling him out. The deck also doesn’t play backups to be able to play its 4+ costed cards, so destroying the backup Snow with Alexander eventually sealed the game for me, as my opponent could not keep up with the cost of the cards in the deck. I won this game 4 - 4, milling out my opponent.

Round 3 (Wind/Water) - this round saw me play against my friend Junshi who was on Wind/Water Yurilinka. He went first, and played a backup, then disrupted my Shinra into Paine combo by playing Zidane and tossing Paine out of my hand. Though I had Yuna, I elected not to play the Yuna, but to use her as Water CP to play Famfrit instead as bouncing Zidane is a very, very bad idea. I only got my own Rikku out about 4 turns after he did, and I was saved from taking too much damage by a timely Valefor EX Burst, dealing with his Leila Viking board. Eventually, he figured that playing more Leila Viking would lead to himself milling out against me, so we were in a mill battle for a while, but I eventually managed to come through as my deck would be milling him faster than he milled me. I won this game 1 - 5.

Round 4 (Mono Earth) - this was also against another close friend, Vincent Ma, who basically got my feet off the ground in this game. If anything he’s like a mentor to me, and taught me most of what I know about this game. He was on a Mono Earth list that was played in Japan, utilizing about 17 Forwards and 16 Summons, and lots of Undead Princess recursion. I stabilized relatively early against him, and managed to keep his backups to 2. The reason being you want him to use 1 more card from hand to play his odd casted cards like Cecil and Ardyn. The early White Mage also dissuaded him from playing 4-086H, and the White Mage removed 1 Undead Princess, which he was not willing to bring back from the Break Zone by sacrificing his only 2 backups. I managed to get the Yuna H out, and just kept exiling his Forwards. Given his deck had low Forward count as well, my removal eventually saw me through, and this round I managed to deal more damage than I took. With any Earth-based matchup, always be wary of Hecatoncheir (1-117R). I had one of my Yunas taken out by a Hecatoncheir, but managed to have one more in hand when it did get broken. I won this game 5 - 3.

General Thoughts:

This deck is most definitely quite fun to play. Maybe the same won’t be said for the opponent, since this kind of deck largely prioritizes removing Forwards, and some might say it doesn’t really feel fun playing against this kind of deck (all my Forwards are being exiled anyway, why am I even playing this game!?), but mill control was a play style I’ve always wanted to try for a while, ever since I lost to a mill deck in my State Championships a couple of months ago.

It is not without its weaknesses however. Aggressive decks that can deal 7 damage in the space of 4 turns (e.g. Ark Angel HM Haste decks), or decks that limit the hand size (e.g. Scale Toad, discard heavy strategy) can shut this deck down in as early as Turn 2 or Turn 3. Another problem card to deal with is Garland (IX) - a Turn 2 Garland essentially screws your curve over, and you are then forced to over-pay to remove the Garland, which removes cards from your hand, which then makes you vulnerable to Scale Toad shaping the game for your opponent. A friend of mine, Mithril, was on an Ice/Water deck for this day that featured discards and summon cancels (lots of Celes and Edward), which I would not have been keen to face, so I was somewhat lucky to have dodged that bullet.

Here’s a quick photo of what I got today!

A deck box, a set of Vincent sleeves, a foil Bartz Promo, and five packs of my choice - I went with Opys 6, and got a non-foil Maria and a foil Garland!

I hope everyone enjoyed reading this, and please give it a try if you’d like, and let me know if you have ideas to improve the deck!

Until next time!