#saving money for little gifts for myself was a brilliant idea

[lightineventide]

"Am I to burn?"

With these masterpieces in my CD player, surely! 🤪

[yamanorakuen]

HC: MC's birthday [Brothers]

It's my birthday today! So to selfishly indulge myself and escape from my actual dead social life, I wrote these little birthday headcanons for you to read.

[Side characters vers.]

Read below this line!

Lucifer wanted to keep your birthday as a rather quiet but extravagant ordeal. Something where he still gets to show you off and make you feel special but nothing too obnoxious and time-consuming.

Chances are that he would rather spend the day pampering you and take you to eat at Restaurant Six.

So when the brothers kept talking about some 'surprise party', he became a bit annoyed as his plans were seemingly ruined but gave his blessings to the party anyway, partially because Diavolo had caught wind of the party and was excited for it, partially because he knew how much you'd like to have all your friends around.

Would do his best to cover up Mammon's slip ups about the party.

During the set up, he was overseeing everything that the brothers were doing and making sure they were staying on schedule.

During the party he mostly watched you from the sidelines, enjoying the sight of you smiling, laughing and having fun.

But somewhere during the night, he approached you and pulled you away from the party, leading you to the garden.

There, he gave you his present in private, his hands finding your waist as he looked you deep into your eyes.

"Happy birthday, MC. Having you in my life has truly enriched it. I could not imagine my life without you in it anymore." He smiled down at you before closing the distance between the two of you with a deep and sultry kiss.

Doesn't really want to let you return to the party after that but he knows he has to.

Tells you though that his door is always open for you if you're feeling lonely and are in need of some company..

Mammon DEMANDED that a surprise party would be thrown for your birthday and bragged to everyone how it was his brilliant idea all along (It wasn't).

Isn't very great at keeping secrets and surprises, but tried his best to keep the party secret from you.

Still, occasional slip us might take place..

He tried to hard to save some money for your gift and even took a part-time job for a few weeks to make sure he could afford the best for you.

During the party set up, he decided to be in charge of the music. He knew your music taste better than anyone as your first man, so it's only natural!

He also helped with the decorating and heavy-lifting, following Asmo's orders, although complaining occasionally.

When Asmo left to take you shopping, he took charge with the decorating department as the second most stylish demon in the house, although Asmo left him strict rules to follow.

During your party, he wanted to be the first to give you his present. He is your first man after all!

He also keeps bragging to you how this party was his idea, all while his brothers are shaking their heads.

That doesn't mean he was not flustered while handing you his present or bragging, though; his cheeks were rosy and he was sweating bullets, hoping to coax a positive reaction out of you.

Seeing you smile brightly at him and thanking him from the botton of your heart makes it all worth to Mammon. He just keeps looking at you like a lovesick puppy for the rest of the evening, hoping to catch a moment where he can whisk you away even for a few minutes to really show how much you meant to him..

Leviathan would rather just spend your special day with just the two of you but knows it's not really possible with all his nosy brothers around the house.

When he heard about the brothers' plan to throw a surprise party for you, all kinds of romance anime cliches popped up in his head; what if.. his gift.. would be his confession of undying love? Or wait, what if you get so excited about his present that you.. k-kiss his cheek as a thank you? All the possibilities!

So while he wasn't as fussed about the party as some of his brothers, he still contributed; he ordered all kinds of fun activities, games and decorations for the party.

"Why are you receiving so many pacakges from Akuzon all of a sudden, Levi?" You had asked him innocently and Leviathan's face had turned beet red as he scrabled to come up with a believable lie.

"Levi.. Why do these balloons have pictures of Ruri-chan on them? Are you sure MC will like them?" Satan had questioned his choices, but alas, Levi was determined to have his way.

During the actual party, Levi was so nervous! He would need to hand his present to you, and you would open it in front of everyone, judging it and judging HIM!

But he decided to shoot his shot along with most of his brothers, he thought that maybe receiving many presents in close proximity would make his one more forgettable in case you didn't like it?

But of course Levi was anxious for nothing as you loved his present!

And although Leviathan didn't find the courage to confess to you that evening, his other daydream came true when you pecked his cheek as a thank you for his present.

Leviathan was in his own little world, blushing and smiling all evening after that little token of appreciation.

Satan too would have prefered a quiet day with the two of you rather than a big surprise party, but he's not against it. As long as he can have you to himself for a while during the day.

He kinda feels at loss with the party planning. He tried to help with the decorating, but Asmodeus chewed him out before he could even touch the decorations, mentioning something about him not having any sense of style.

The kitchen wouls be full, too, with Barbatos and Luke (And occasionally Beelzebub trying to sneak a bite).

So in the end it was decided that his job was to take you out of the house and keep you busy for a few hours.

You had orignally been sent to Purgatory Hall to 'study' with Simeon when Satan barged in, stealing you away. In his head he imagined this to be an important twist in a romance novel, eventually leading the two of you falling madly in love with each other and running away, eloping soon after..

But alas, this was reality, and he had a job to do. One that he took really seriously.

He took you to the town, buying everything you pointed out to him. He took you to a cat café. And a beautiful spot that he liked to retreat to occasionally when his emotions took the best of him. He told you many stories and listened to yours with keen interest.

When he got a message from Asmo that he would meet up with them and take MC to shop for an outfit, Satan was a little bummed out but understanding. He managed to sneak a little kiss with you though before Asmo could arrive, that sneaky bastard.

During the party, despite already having bought some things for you, he gave his gift at the same time with most of the brothers, but still as the last of them, making it slightly more special in his head, like a grand finale.

Obviously Asmodeus wants to get all dolled up and party! Asmo will literally take any chance given to celebrate something.

When he heard about the surprise party idea, he was so excited for it!

Tried to invite the entire school but Lucifer caught on and terminated the plan. Lucifer couldn't let the entire school strom the house he is the head of.

Demanded to be the one in control of decorating the house!

And honestly that's a good call, he's got the eye for aesthetics. The House of Lamentation looked excpetionally amazing thanks to him!

Although he was the one ordering people around, he couldn't risk breaking his nails right before an important party so he didn't do any of the actual hard work.

The evening before you HAD TO HAVE a self-care evening where he pampered you and took extra good care of your hair, nails and skin, making sure you were going to look just amazing tomorrow.

Amodeus also took you shopping a few hours before the party was supposed to start, buying you a nice outfit for the party.

He made sure you would be the belle/beau of the ball! Nothing's better than really feeling yourself during your special day.

During your party, Asmodeus documented EVERYTHING. He took so many selfies with so many people, but mostly with you. Everything needs to be pictured or filmed!

He also gave his birthday gift during the same time as most of the others, but he nevertheless made it a big spectacle, announcing his gift dramatically and forcing someone to film the ordeal.

When you thanked him for his gift, he smiled innocently while suggesting you could show your appreciation in another way.. In the bedroom.. After the party.

You could also think it as an extension of his gift? Who would deny Asmo AS the gift, after all?

Beelzebub got the original idea for the surprise party that Mammon stole. Beelzebub didn't really mind it, as long as you were going to be happy and the party would have food.

Did the menu planning as he knows what foods you like the best but can't be trusted with the actual food.. So he mostly helped with the heavy lifting around the house, letting Asmo boss him around with a smile on his face.

He knew it's all for you, after all, so he was not complaining.

He tried to sneak into the kitchen while Barbatos and Luke were busy cooking and baking, but every time he even attempted so, he would be swatted away by either one of them.

Belphie and him picked out their gifts together, but they both still had seperate gifts.

Beelzebub was so excited about the party beforehand, following you around like a little puppy wagging his tail the previous day.

During the party, he gave his gift the same time as most of his brothers too, but that didn't stop him from giving you a big tight hug beforehand, much to the displeasure of the other brothers watching.

His gift would be something sweet and sentimental for sure, although possibly related to food.

But that's his love language, okay? He shows off his love with food. And that's valid.

He was just really cuddly with you throughout the party, following you around, bringing you food and drinks whenever you asked.

He would also carry you around anywhere if you wanted the full princess/prince treatment.

Beel promises to also take you to eat the following day. Just the two of you. It's a date, okay? His treat.

Belphegor wasn't too keen on the surprise party idea but relented when he imagined how surprised and happy you would become.

He was not a great help at the party planning and set up, but he still played a key part in keeping the surprise.

The night before, he sneaked into your room, asking if you would let him sleep with you.. In the same bed.

And he didn't give up before you let him at least sleep in the same room. It was an important part of the plan, you see.

He used his powers to make sure you're in a deep, lovely dream, and that you won't wake up during the night or the early morning when the plans were being put into the motion.

Also he could provide you some birthday cuddles if you want?

You woke up feeling well-rested and relaxed.

And honestly, Belphie was so happy to be able to have you by his side before everything kicks off. He just kept you close to him, staring at you with soft eyes.

He was also the first one who got to wish you happy birthday. Normally people lose by snoozing, but he just won in his book.

After Simeon "stole you away", he just fell back asleep, letting everyone else handle the hard work.

During the party, he didn't want to give his gift at the same time with the others, so after watching you impatiently being swarmed by the others, he walked up to you and just asked you to leave with him for a while.

He took you to the planetarium, where under the shining stars he handed you his gift.

Chances are that it is a soft package.

Anyway, seeing you beam up at him makes him all melty. He wrapped his arms around you and rested his head against the crook of your neck, sighing happily, before telling you how much you have changed him and how much he has grown to adore you.

A/N: I'm sorry some of these are quite short but my schedule is REALLY packed! Anyhow, all the likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated.

[nxrthmizu]

Second Place ; Miya Osamu.

fandom | haikyuu!!

pairing | miya osamu x fem!reader

w.c | 2.2k

genre | fluff

warning(s) | slightly suggestive, implied sexual content

author's note | i've been wanting to write this for a while! so here it is <3 it's not beta read and I didn't use a lot of metaphorical filling so it's not that poetic but eh Idc bc ✨ self indulgence ✨

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Once upon a time, Miya Osamu swore that he would never settle for second place again— He was never going to let another Miya score first place while he stood in the shadows. The twins had split paths after graduation, stepping onto stages where they'd never have to compete against each other for the spotlight again.

... Okay, who was he kidding. He'd be compared to Atsumu for his whole life— It wasn't like a different career would change that. Besides, his aunts were way too bored to not spin up something about him and his brother during family gatherings.

"Atsumu's making more money, isn't he?"

Well duh, he was a professional volleyball player, of course he made more money— Osamu wanted to roll his eyes in front of his aunts to make sure they understood that he heard their hushed whispers— But then again, he was an adult now, and he knew better than to stoop that low.

The comforting grip you had on his wrist also helped.

Things did get slightly better for him, though.

"Atsumu, your brother's already married," Osamu overheard his second aunt say to his twin during his wedding reception, "When are you going to settle down?"

The grey-haired Miya couldn't help but have a grin on his face for the entire night. Granted, the fact there was a silver ring on your finger also helped. You were absolutely radiant that night, and Osamu couldn't have been happier to finally be able to introduce you as his spouse.

Osamu's marriage did tilt more pressure towards his twin's way, because not more than half a year later, Atsumu caved in and found a sweet little thing to share his life with. The setter had had a couple flings here and there in his earlier years— But none of them ever lasted that long, and Atsumu had never introduced them to his brother, which is how Osamu knew that his twin really cared about the girl when the golden-haired man visited Onigiri Miya with her hanging on his arms.

If he didn't have the decency to help his brother maintain a good image, Osamu would've straight-up snorted at how tense his twin was when he served onigiri up onto their table, the shop empty with the exception of one table. It was almost like Atsumu was seeking Osamu's approval— Which was hilarious enough without the fact that the setter was nervous about it.

At the end of the night, it was as if the weight of the world was lifted off Atsumu's shoulders. Kaoru— The name of Osamu's potential sister-in-law— Got along wonderfully with you, who kept the shy-but-bright woman entertained as Osamu dragged his twin into the kitchen to make fun of him.

"Oh, go easy on him," You elbowed him lightly as the two of you closed up the shop for the night, wiping down the tables and tucking the chairs in. "Atsumu genuinely cares about her, he's making an effort!"

Osamu let out the snort he had held in for most of the evening. "I wouldn't be his brother if I didn't make fun of him."

"Boys." You muttered, just loud enough for him to hear. You had been around to catch the tail-end of some of Atsumu's previous relationships, so you could tell that Kaoru was different; In a way, Atsumu looked at her the same way Osamu eyed a nice piece of mackerel in the grocery shop.

"I heard that! C'mere," Osamu grinned, tackling you from the back. A smile burst across his lips when a giggle erupted from your lips, a cloth rag smacking him in the face when you tried to wriggle away from his hold. "You aren't getting away, pumpkin. Save your energy for later."

He wriggled his eyebrows suggestively, yelping when he was smacked with the rag again.

"There won't be a later if you keep that up." You warned, laughing when horror instantly swept over his expression. His protests echoed in your ears as you thought about how this marriage was something you'd never regret. Yes, it was rough because his business took off on a rocky road, but you knew there was no gain without pain, so you hung on and saw him through to the fruits of his labour.

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The next family meeting was graced with the presence of Kaoru, who, in turn, had been graced with your advice.

"Dress decently, do not wear black," You had warned her the night before on the phone, grimacing at the memory of your first Miya family dinner. No one had aunts more judgemental than the Miya twins. "I would suggest going with a dress. Oh, and it might help to bring a gift. A bottle of Ginseng Wine might be a good idea."

"We're here," Osamu parked the car outside the family home, subconsciously wincing at the sight of his aunts' vehicles. "... Ah. They’re here."

"I see they turned up early," You grimaced, "Atsumu and Kaoru-chan are going to have a brilliant night."

"Yup." Your husband grinned slightly at that, earning a smack for smiling at his brother's suffering. "Oh, he'll be fine. We'll mention that when Atsumu really needs saving." The wink he sent your way made your stomach butterflies flutter, but the warm touch of his fingers on your hand made them settle. "We'll be fine," Osamu's eyes softened as he met yours, reassuring you. "You've got me, remember? Worst case scenario, we'll just high-tail out of there and say we need to work tomorrow."

"Right," You released a breath of relief, interlocking your fingers with his. "Ready?"

"To see Atsumu suffer?" Osamu quipped. "Hell yeah."

And suffer did Atsumu. Kaoru wasn’t spared (of course she wasn’t—) and was judged from head-to-toe by the Miya's critical aunts. From the way they were eyeing her, you'd think they were the judges of Miss Universe instead of potential aunt-in-laws. Despite that, Kaoru braved the storm and stood strong through the whole night, her resilience shining with her determination to be with the other Miya twin— Osamu nodded his approval at that.

After dinner, the family gathered in the living room, with the elderly seated on the cushioned couches while the twins were squashed together on a bean bag (that you had to convince them to share, because apparently they were adamant about pushing the other off of it). Kaoru and you managed to snag a small corner of a couch, stifling your laughter at the sour faces of your respective significant others.

"So, Kaoru-san," Four heads collectively flinched when the aunt opened her mouth, "What's your job? Yearly salary?"

"Um, I'm... I'm a newspaper editor," Kaoru fidgeted with the strap of her bag while you resisted the urge to snap at her to look as confident as she could if she didn't want the interrogation to go on for the rest of the night. A shy, nervous thing like her would only make the predator's lick their lips at the sight of easy prey.

"Oh! That makes sense," The woman sneered, Osamu's mother not-so-discreetly turning up the volume of the television in hopes that the conversation would be drowned out. "You definitely dress with the salary of an editor."

Offence flashed across Atsumu's face like lightning, but before he could start a fight to defend his girlfriend's honour, Osamu dragged his brother back onto the bean bag and stood up.

"Excuse me, everyone," Osamu put on his practiced customer-service smile flawlessly, capturing everyone's attention instantly. "Y/N and I have an announcement to make." His eyes met yours, and you nodded, a smile waltzing across your lips.

"Mother, father," You begin, addressing your in-laws like you addressed your own parents. Encouragement swirled in your blood as Osamu interlocked your hands and squeezed your fingers. "You're going to be grandparents."

It took a while for the news to kick in.

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Osamu's mother cried out, rushing to envelop you in a hug that you gracefully accepted. "Do you know the gender yet?"

"Of course not, mother." Osamu rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "We're not that far along yet."

"That's amazing! Congratulations!" Kaoru beamed brightly, not having picked up on Osamu's timely intervention.

"Thank you." You replied warmly.

"Well then, are you going to stop working?" The first aunt shot at you, smirking, coy as ever. She knew that you weren't the type to drop your job just because of an incoming child.

"Of course not." You replied easily, "What kind of spouse would I be if I couldn't help carry the financial burdens with my husband?"

She shut her trap instantly, huffing in fury. Osamu had never looked prouder.

The family rejoiced for a little longer, and from the tip of your ears, you heard Osamu gloating slightly about having reached another milestone earlier than his brother.

"I love you," Your husband murmured into the crook of your neck as the two of you cuddled in the warmth of your bed, too far for his aunts' sharp words to hurt you. "And our little boy in there.”

“How do you know it’s a boy?”

“... Father’s instinct.”

Months flew by in a blur, and so did doctor appointments, Sunday shopping trips with Kaoru as you left Atsumu to help Osamu in the restaurant. The pair would drive the half-an-hour trip from Osaka to Hyogo every weekend. This arrangement elicited a couple silly arguments between the twins, of course, but once you taught Kaoru the stern look that would make the two settle like guilty puppies with their tails between their legs— Those arguments became simple matters to handle.

“Have you thought of names yet?” Kaoru asked you while the two of you sipped on coffee.

“I have a couple in mind,” You smiled. “Osamu won’t stop going on about how he was right. The baby’s a boy.”

“Boys will be boys,” Kaoru rolled her eyes. Then, her expression changed to a wistful one. “This might sound odd, but… I just find myself thinking, sometimes… One day, I want what you and Osamu have.”

“... A happy marriage?” You raised an eyebrow, “Honey, you’re already on your way to one. Atsumu looks at you the same way ‘Samu looks at a bowl of gyudon. Or the way I look at a bucket of mint ice cream with peanut butter…”

Kaoru made a concerned look. “The baby sure craves some odd things.”

“You’ll experience this one day.” You returned pointedly. “Logically, I never would’ve thought of eating mint chocolate ice cream with peanut butter slathered on… But cravings are cravings. And it was surprisingly nice.”

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After nine long months of waiting, Miya Tomohito was welcomed to the world. Osamu cried (Atsumu made fun of him for it before getting smacked by Kaoru— She was learning a lot from you). Both yours and Osamu’s parents wouldn’t stop gawking at your baby boy, with his little tuff of dark hair, his tightly-fisted hands and the slight cherry-red flush of his cheeks. You never thought you’d fall in love at first sight— But your son was living proof that you were wrong. From the first moment you held him in your arms, you had already given a piece of your heart for him to hold in his tiny little hands.

It quickly became a regular sight for frequent customers of Onigiri Miya to see Osamu walking around the shop, a sleeping baby boy strapped to his back. The two were inseparable. Once, you walked in on your husband having a full conversation with Tomohito, who was sucking on a spoon.

“I’m thinking of adding a twist to my tuna onigiri recipe,” Osamu said, as if he were talking to an adult and not a three-month old baby. “Do you think adding a squeeze of lemon juice will make it taste better?”

“Gwa.” Tomohito replied intelligently.

“Great suggestion, Tomo.”

“Mmm.”

“I see. We could go to the grocery store later to get some tuna and try that recipe tonight.”

“Ba.”

“You’re a genius, Tomo.”

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“I can’t believe you.” Osamu looked helpless. “You’re not… You’re not seriously doing this to me.”

“I’m completely serious.” You said firmly, having put your foot down with no room for argument.

“You’re really choosing him over me?” Your husband’s jaw dropped when you nodded solemnly. “I’m your husband!”

“And he’s my son.” You shot back instantly.

“You’re kicking me out of our bed for our son?”

“He’s sick!” You refuted. “I need him to be as close as possible to me. His fever hasn’t gone down completely yet and I can’t let him go back into his cot tonight. Besides, you might get sick if we all sleep in the same bed. Who’ll take care of the shop then?”

Osamu drooped visibly. He couldn’t believe what was happening— He had lost to a Miya once again— Now his son instead of his brother. “Fine.” He mumbled sadly. “Make your poor husband sleep on the couch.”

“It’s only for one night, ‘Samu.”

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Tomohito's name is written as 智仁. '智' means intelligence and '仁' means compassionate. I have a friend named Tomohito.

Also, when I was writing this I reminded myself to make sure I made the reader gender-neutral. That is, until I realised that I made the reader pregnant. I am an idiot.

haikyuu!! gen taglist: @haru-senji @hikari-writes @whootwhoot @folkloeren @definitely-yours @rirk-ke @animegirlweeb @cemeiia @haikyuushuffle

[hello-everyfandom]

“I just got you this because I saw it and thought of you!”

Warnings: Light swearing

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Words: 3.9k

Summary: Your love language is Gift Giving

(This is apart of my series “Love Languages”, please check it out!)

“Close your eyes.”

“Should I be worried?” George asked quite warily. 

“Will you just-” you huffed, “Please?”

“At least let me know what I’ve done wrong before you jinx my tongue to the top of my mouth.” George jokingly pleaded.

“If you know what’s best for you,” you lowered your voice to match his joke, “you’ll close your eyes.”

“Alright, but I’m trusting you,” George placed a grin on his lips, the dimple of his left cheek becoming more and more prominent. 

“Now, hold out your hands,” you said feeling more and more excited.George hesitantly put his hands out in front of him and jokingly flinched when you touched him. His comedic flinch made you laugh as you scanned him over to ensure his eyes were shut. Satisfied with George’s compliance, you slowly reached into your bag to pull out a wrapped gift. When it was safely in his hands, George’s fingers crinkled around the wrapping paper. He opened his eyes and saw you looking excitedly from the gift in his hands and to his confused face. 

Instantly, George began to sweat. Had he forgotten an anniversary? Or a birthday? Or some other holiday? 

He cursed in his mind, fuck fuck fuck fuck.

“Go on then!” you smiled, “open it!”

George looked uncertain as he slowly unwrapped the gift revealing a small box. He lifted the box to see a small shaped coin. “It’s... uh.” He asked, picking it up and fiddling it with his fingers.

“It’s a coin!” you giggled at his confused reaction, “I bought it when I was in Russia over the summer to visit my cousin at Durmstrang.

“Oh! It! It is a coin! I love it!” George moved to pull you in a hug before you chuckled and pushed him away.

“It’s not just a coin. It’s a coin that has been enchanted.” You pointed to the head on the coin, “When you flip it, it’ll tell you whether or not someone is near you. See?” You took it out of his hand and flipped it in your hand, immediately it flipped to Heads. “For pranking, yeah?”

George looked at the coin in wonder and then again at your adoring face. “I... I love it.” He put a hand on your cheek and leaned to press a loving kiss to your lips. “But, I...”

“What is it?” you asked, holding his hand to your cheek.

“I’m so sorry, love. I think I... I think I forgot our anniversary or birthday or... I don’t. I’m so unbelievably sorry!” George spewed out.

“What!” you exclaimed in surprise, “No! No, no. Our anniversary isn’t until October!” you began to laugh, “I just got you this because I saw it and thought of you!”

George let out a breath of relief before feeling tense once again, “But, I didn’t get you anything...”

You pressed a kiss to the palm of his hand, “I don’t expect you to! It was just something for my love, that’s all.” you looked up to see George’s concern written within his brows, “Really! I just got it for you because I thought it would be nice.”

George shook his worry and began to smile, “I love you, you know that?”

“Oh, I know. I’m the most glorious girlfriend in the entirety of the world.”

“And so humble as well.” George grinned before giving you another long kiss. 

George grew up with seven siblings. While he grew up with hand-me-downs and knitted clothing from his mother, you grew up on the richer side of the Wizarding World. He wasn’t used to receiving expensive gifts and frankly felt a little uncomfortable and insecure. All the gifts you had given him must have cost a fortune, something he would never truly acquire. And although he loved his family and his upbringing, he cannot help but feel shameful at the fact that he cannot shower you in gifts as you did to him. 

It began with a new quill, then some pranking supplies, and soon the smaller gifts like the flowers you collected for him and the ties you bought turned into new robes and wand adjustments from Olivander’s. He accepted them graciously and sometimes even refused gifts as they seemed to be too expensive. With your assurance, he took them with a smile on his face but his head hanging low. 

With your anniversary coming up, George could feel the hole in his pocket becoming larger and larger and the money he had saved up had gone to ensure the twins’ ability to start their own joke shop. 

“I have no idea what to get her,” George flopped down on the couch. 

Ginny, who was sat to his left, looked up from her book.“What do you mean?” She raised her eyebrow at her miserable older brother and looked to his twin who sat on his right.

“I mean,” George groaned and placed a hand over his eyes, “What do you get the most perfect girl in the world? What do you get her that she doesn’t already have?”

Fred began to laugh, “It’s happened, hasn’t it?”

“Oh, I think it has,” Ginny chimed in.

“What the bloody hell are you two talking about?”

“Georgie, can’t you see?” Ginny grinned teasingly, “You’re whipped.”

“Like Mum’s Christmas cream, you’re entirely whipped,” Fred added.

George sat up instantly and looked at his siblings with annoyance, “Well, we already knew that!”

Fred and Ginny joined together in laughter, noting how George’s vein is popping out of his forehead. 

“Will you two stop your bloody, dumb, shitty teasing and just-” George groaned again and flopped back on the couch, “Help me?” He asked almost pathetically.

“How much did you want to spend?” Ginny asked, quieting her laughing.

“I don’t know! I just know that I don’t have enough.” George moaned.

“A necklace for the lady, perhaps?” Fred suggested making George shake his head.

“She’s already got enough necklaces and jewelry to fill an entire block on Diagonalley.”

“New quill?” Ginny added,

“No, she’s got her school supplies shipped from some store in America.”

Ginny and Fred began to suggest more and more things to which George either did not like because they were not “you” or because you already had them.

“Oh for fucks sake,” Ginny exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “What the hell can you buy?”

Fred thought for a moment, putting his fingers to his lip as he usually did deep in thought. “What if you don’t buy her a gift?”

“And what? Don’t get her anything at all?” George said sarcastically, “Good plan, you bellend.”

Fred reached over the arm of his chair and gave his twin a good wallop on the shoulder, “No, you dickhead. Don’t buy her anything.”

Ginny caught onto Fred’s idea and nodded, “That’s actually not a bad idea, Georgie, don’t buy her anything.”

“Hello??” George yelled, “Are you two not thinking right?”

“George, stop being a smart arse,” Ginny berated, “Get her something homemade instead.”

George opened one of his eyes to look at his sister who stared back at him in annoyance. “Oh.”

“Yes, oh,” Ginny mocked, “Make her something.”

George groaned again making Ginny and Fred roll their eyes. “But I can’t make anything but dung bombs.”

“Then, you’re out of luck,” Ginny stood up, dusting off her pants. 

Before she could leave, George bolted up and grabbed her wrist. “Gin!” He yelled, “You know how to knit, yeah?”

“Uhm,” she looked to Fred for assistance, “I guess, Mum tried to teach me once, but I-”

“Brilliant!” George grinned, feeling his frustration seep away, “Then you’ll teach me!”

“Georgie,” Ginny rolled her eyes, “I don’t really even know how to knit myself, nevertheless be able to teach you.”

“But, you’ll help?” He asked, putting his puppy dog face on.

Ginny looked at her older brother, her weakness, and let out a sigh, “Fine, whatever.” George shouted in victory, “But, you have to also write Mum and ask her because she knows more than I do. And... you have to tell Y/N that the idea was mine.”

George reached up and kissed his sister’s cheek making her scream in disgust, “Yes, done and done! You are the best sibling in the entirety of the world.”

George turned sharply and sprinted up the stairs to write a letter to his Mum.

“What the hell am I then?” Fred crossed his arms, “Toasted squid?” 

The following days were spent with Ginny and George trying, and rather unsuccessfully, to knit a sweater for you. Fred watched in the background making witty and snide comments. Molly had written back with such haste that Pigwidgeon was nearly on his last breath before arriving at Hogwarts. She sent many words of encouragement and told him that he was the absolute “sweetest” which was in large contrast to Ginny’s frustrated and rather harsh criticism.

“No! You’re supposed to go over not, George! Have you even been listening this entire time?”

“Of course I have,” George said defensively, “It’s just confusing, that’s all.”

“Why can’t we just use magic?” Ginny whined.

“Because then it wouldn’t be homemade, hence the word, home, little sister.” George frowned, “What does it matter anyway? She won’t like it.” 

“Georgie,” Fred pushed off of the wall he was leaning on, “Stop being such a worry-wart.” He patted a hand on his shoulder, “Y/N is the sweetest girl, just because she’s richer than Merlin knows and can afford whatever she wants and doesn’t have to care about-”

“Alright, get on with it, Fred,” George warned.

“She’ll love it no matter what.” Fred finished, sending his twin a much needed reassuring smile.

“I hope so,” George sighed and picked up the needles once again. “Now, what the hell do I do again?”

By the time your anniversary approached, you were nearly bouncing with joy. You had gotten George the perfect present, something he’d never ever expect. Thankfully, your anniversary landed on a Sunday so you woke up and rushed to get ready in the morning. George waited, anxiously, on the stairs for you until you emerged. 

Dressed in jeans and a nice blouse, George was nearly breathless upon seeing you. He gulped as you walked down, seeing the gold necklace your parents had gifted you for your last birthday and pearl earrings they’d given you after getting amazing marks on your exams. 

“Hi,” you said softly, locking your fingers with his.

“Hi, darling,” he said back, pressing a kiss on your cheek. 

“Happy anniversary.”

“Happy anniversary,” you sighed contently and began to walk to the portrait.

“Now, what shall we do on our momentous day of love?” George asked, swinging your joined hands. 

You pulled your bag up closer on your shoulder and smiled back.“I think,” you paused, “we should go on a walk. A long, romantic walk.”

“Then a walk we shall take!” George led the way, pulling you through the corridors making you giggle. 

It was a delightful day spent with kisses and fond memories. You snapped a few photos of your boyfriend with the old camera you had bought.

“Now, I’ll never understand,” George raised his eyebrow, “Why you have a camera older than time itself rather than one of those new, fancy-schmancy cameras.”

You looked admiringly at the photo your camera just printed. As it developed, you could see the two of you, cheeks pressed together, you with a shy smile and George with his tongue sticking out. Another photo you had taken moments before was a snapshot of George’s lips pressed to your cheek and you could just make out the blushing on your face.

“Well,” you looked back up at your boyfriend, “I just happen to love old, worn things I suppose. Why do you think I’m with you?” you added, teasingly.

“Oi,” he defended, “ ‘m only a few months older than you, love. And I’m not worn, I’m newer than a baby’s bottom. You’re the only girl ‘ve been with.” 

“Only? As in there will be more?” you asked, a taunting tone on your tongue. George looked at you, as lovingly and as gentle as he ever could, and thought nothing more of the life you two would have. Happy, content, any other words that describe a healthy and romantic relationship. His thoughts began to waver at the idea of how he’d only be able to afford a small flat, that is if the joke shop even took off in the first place. He thought of all the expensive things he could never afford and how you may resent him. As you looked at him, you thought of the happy children you’d have and the copious amounts of dogs and cats you’d care for. George swallowed harshly.

“Only.” He repeated. You blushed once again and leaned to kiss him. The feeling of your touch on his made George fall quicker, deeper, and madly in love. 

After dinner in the Great Hall, in which George absolutely refused for anyone to sit next to or in front of you in order to make it more “private,” the two of you were laid, cuddled on your bed. George could feel the anxiety and panic set in when he realized soon he’d be giving the girl of his dreams a disappointing gift. 

You hummed, sweet with content, and put your chin on his chest. “I’ve never been happier.”

“I’m so glad,” George ran his fingers through your hair, pushing the stray ones behind your ear. “But,” you said as you sat up, “I do believe anniversaries come with a certain type of exchange.”

“Oh?” George asked, sitting up as well. His fingers felt knotted and his throat was closing up. He had sneaked his gift in, awfully wrapped in some colorful parchment, and placed it under your bed.Be confident, George pleaded and tried his best to act cooly. 

“I’ll go first, may I please, please go first!” you begged. 

George bit his tongue, much preferring he’d go first in order to deal with the disappointment before anything and also give you a chance to dump his impoverished arse.

“Of course, darling,” he nodded making you squeal in delight. George breathed deeply and closed his eyes, holding his hands out as he usually did when you gave him gifts. In his hands, he could feel a box wrapped with a bow.

“Alright, go on!” you nodded eagerly. George let out a shaky breath before carefully removing the bow and lifting the lid. To his delight, he picked up a pair of wool socks that were embroidered with small hearts on the sides. “It’s-”

“Socks!” you finished for him, “Because you get cold feet, remember? Now, when you are playing Quidditch or cold at night, you can wear them and think of me!” George broke out in a grin and thanked the heavens for his girlfriend and all the luck in the world that it took for him to find her. “I love them.” 

“Really?” you asked, pointing at the hearts, “I did those myself!” 

“They look wonderful, I absolutely adore them.” He leaned and kissed you. 

The kiss was long as George put a hand on your neck to pull you closer. His lips moving against yours made butterflies take flight and your bones become weaker. As he pulled away, you rested your forehead on his trying to catch your breath.

“My turn?” George asked making you nod. George pulled out his crappily wrapped gift, that Ginny told him off for, and put it in the bed. 

“Oh! Wrapped it yourself, I see?” you teased. George nodded proudly, becoming more and more confident in his gift. 

As you lifted your fingers to rip the paper off, you paused and faced him with another sly smile.

“Alright! Okay, I was going to save it till the end of the night, but I simply cannot wait.” George’s eyes widened as you jolted off of the bed. “You didn’t think I only got you socks, did you?” you asked, moving towards the trunk at the end of your bed.

“No, wait, Dear, the socks are lovely, I don’t need another-”

“I know, I know, but I couldn’t help it!” you sent him a wink, “Now, this one is the actual gift.”

“Actual gift?” George stuttered.Pulling out a large object, larger than your entire frame, George clenched his jaw. You struggled a bit to put it on the bed but managed and sat down in front of him.

“Happy Anniversary, my love.” your voice made him wince a bit.

You watched in utter excitement as George began to slowly unwrap his gift. Removing all the paper, George nearly fainted seeing his gift. A new broom, one of the best in the world, something he’d never ever be able to buy for himself. A broom, costing more than Merlin knows galleons. 

“So!” you bounced, “Do you like it? I saw at your other games, that bludger took out part of the tail end of your broom and I could not live with myself if you had an accident due to a faulty broom! I went and got it myself,” you said proudly. 

“And! It’s the fastest, rarest, and nicest type of wood, with a partially enchanted seat to help you stay upright!”

George’s hands shook, holding the broom.

“I-”

“Speechless? That was my entire goal!” you raised your fist in victory. 

“Y/N-”

“I know! And, not to mention, now you can wear your socks during the game! Two gifts in one!”

“Y/N-”

“I debated on getting you new gloves, but they wouldn’t be shipped in till middle of November and-”

“Y/N,” George said softly but firmly making you look at him with concern. You had never seen this facial expression on George as his eyes were nearly welled with tears and his lip was red from his biting.

“What’s wrong?” you asked frantically, “is it the wrong size? I gave the shopkeeper your height and everything-”

“No,” George said, putting the broom to lean on the wall next to your bed. “I can’t take this.”

“What do you mean? Love, I got it for you!” you laughed, waving your hand.

“No, Y/N, I seriously cannot take this.” You frowned, 

George’s voice was shaky making your heart drop. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s too expensive-”

“Nonsense, I saved up for it!”

“Baby,” George said, small and timid, “I cannot accept any more expensive gifts from you.” 

“What do you mean?” you questioned, leaning forwards to grab one of his hands, “the price doesn’t matter to me, I literally could not care,”

“But I care.” George protested. 

You nearly began to cry as you saw a tear dripped down George’s cheek. You sat up so you were sitting on your knees and gingerly placed your hands on his cheeks.

“My love, what’s wrong? Won’t you tell me?” you whispered, rubbing soft strokes with your thumbs. 

“I...” George struggled to find the words to describe how awful he felt, “I cannot take your gifts. And... and I’ll never be able to give you these types of gifts.”

Your eyes widened in surprise before you began to furiously shake your head, “George Weasley, what in the world are you talking about?”

“I’ll never be able to give you expensive things like necklaces or pearls or nice perfumes or nice suppers at fancy restaurants. I’ll never be able to give you the gifts you deserve. You deserve to be treated like a princess or a queen or anything and I cannot give you that, I can’t.” George let out.

You thought of his words in utter disbelief. Never once did you ever think of George’s economic standing and neither did you care. 

“But you do treat me like a princess,” you encouraged, making George moan with more tears, “You do. You tuck me in when I’m all tired from classes and make me cuppa’s in the morning. You massage my shoulders when I’m stressed and you hold my hand when you know I’m anxious.” You pushed his head up so your eyes met, “I mean that, from the bottom of my heart. I don’t care if you cannot give me expensive gifts or fancy dinners or anything, I care that you love me and want me to be by your side.”

“But, you give me all these-”

“I do it because I love giving you gifts! I love seeing you smile. And not all my gifts are expensive, sometimes I give you flowers I’ve seen or biscuits from the Great Hall. My darling, you do not need to worry if I feel as though you cannot provide for me, because you provide more than enough for me. I don’t care about money or gifts or anything like that.” you assured. 

George went silent and you began to pepper his cheeks, nose, and forehead with kisses until he cracked and started to smile. 

“I’ve just got the best girlfriend ever, haven’t I?” George asked, pulling you onto his lap. 

You curled into his chest and nodded.

“Oh, absolutely.”

It was quiet between you two again until you chimed up, “Well... may I have my gift now?”

“Uhhh, it’s uhh,” George stuttered. “It’s not amazing.”

“Don’t care!” you grinned and picked up his gift. “I’m so excited, I could nearly pee myself.”

George jokingly shoved you, “Oi, blimey well don’t do that. Not while you’re sitting on me at least.” 

You shoved him back before opening his gift. George held his breath as you unraveled the present and saw his gift. Your heart nearly stopped. You picked up the sweater, moving the parchment aside, and placed it on your lap. The sweater was yellow and made with soft wool. On the front, there was a badly made daisy, the flowers you always got for him during the Spring. Touching the fabric softly, tracing over each petal you stared at.

“I know it isn’t much but-” Before George could finish his apology, you took him by surprise and wrapped your arms around his neck tightly. Pressing kisses on the crook of his neck, he could feel your smile.

“I absolutely love it.”

“Really?”

“With all my heart, I’ve never been given something handmade nor something so sweet.”

“I made it... myself.”You picked up the sweater and laughed, “I can tell. How long did it take you?”

George paused, thinking and smiling sheepishly, “A few weeks maybe.”

“And you made it all by yourself? No magic?”

“No magic,” George confirmed, “But, Ginny did help me... she and Fred helped me come up with the idea.”

You shifted in George’s lap, moving so you could toss off the blouse you were wearing and shrugging the sweater on. It was warm and smelled of honey and pine and the string he had used made you feel as if you were wrapped in a hug of his. 

“George... I don’t know what to say. Thank you.” 

George blushed a deep red as you kissed first his cheek and then his lips.

“You’re welcome, Darling. I’m just glad I’ve finally given you a good enough gift.”

“Well,” you kissed the skin of his neck, “I’ll wear it every day. But...”

“But?” George asked, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“But, I think right now, I’d like it off,” you suggested, lowering your eyes at him.

“Off?” George asked confusedly before his eyes widened in realization. “Oh! Oh, off!”

“You’re so smart, aren’t you?” you snorted before pulling George in for another kiss.  

[keyofjetwolf]

We’re All Just Guys

Well it took the entire fucking season, but I FINALLY get the purpose for Henry Fondle: Sex Robot. And while the entire episode (and season, honestly) has been tremendous, that this ridiculous fucking punchline was the vehicle to deliver the overarching point with a solid knockout punch of meaning AND pathos? Absolutely floored. That BoJack Horseman can be (and often is) brilliant isn’t a surprise, but the ways is keeps proving it often are.

So “The Stopped Show”, a tale of accountability and responsibility and how we’re all just guys.

Each of our main characters closes out this season alone (sort of), in assorted stages of realizing the main themes, or completely failing to. I find Diane’s arc the hardest for me to make a decision on, which isn’t surprising, as I think in many ways, Diane’s the most complicated character in the show. She delivers, directly and succinctly, one of the major points of not just this season but the entire show, but how does it relate to her? I’M NOT COMPLETELY SURE. I think part of the problem with (and for) Diane is that she knows better. She’s the most insightful character, she has a fantastic head on her shoulders, but only for everyone else. She’s this fucked up little disaster prophet, her vision clear and her message concise, unable to ever apply her gifts to fix herself.

Diane is just as trapped as BoJack, but in a fun twist, is now lagging behind him in trying to do something about it. Nearly every single scene with Diane this season has been in this sad little room of her sad little apartment with all her sad little unpacked boxes, and no matter how much truth and wisdom she spits out, HERE SHE STILL IS, failing to correctly assemble IKEA furniture with names like Bȧcksleid. She already feels like shit for sleeping with Mr. Peanutbutter, so what does she do? THE SAME FUCKING THING. To which I groan and roll my eyes, while simultaneously being proud of her for directly and immediately setting him straight about not getting back together. Diane rides this constant line where she gets it but also doesn’t, which is so interesting to me in the level of additional frustration this makes me feel. BoJack is so self-absorbed you don’t really expect any better of him, which has the flip side of your expectations being so low that even the whiff of progress feels exceptional. Diane doesn’t come with any of that though, she knows better, you KNOW she knows better, and the consequence of this for the audience is that she winds up being more unlikeable than the guy who literally last episode nearly strangled his girlfriend and co-star in the middle of a paranoid drug-induced frenzy.

Which is fucked up! It’s intensely fucked up! And also, I think, the point! We expect more of Diane, and so feel more disappointed when she doesn’t deliver. Is that fair of us?

But there’s more here, as we pivot to the accountability portion of this episode/season. From the beginning of the show, it’s been incredibly upfront about how everything is unfair. We come back to this time and again. Privilege rules the day in the world of Hollywoo. Fame, money, charisma, gender, power. BoJack has been an asshole from pretty much the moment he set foot in the spotlight (possibly before?), and the only thing ever even attempting to hold him back has been the moments his guilt manages to scream loud enough to be heard over his internal narrative. Whatever he does, however he fucks up, he always stumbles back to his feet, and NEVER with any (broad scale) consequences. Meanwhile, here’s Diane, in her sad shitty apartment. Consequences haunt Diane, even if she’s the one doing the haunting. The crap things she’s done and the shitty choices she’s made cling to her.

There’s no fairness in that either, no justice. But Hollywoo (and the entire world around it) (and our world too oh yes) has that privilege carved into its bones, and Diane bears none of its marks. Her situation is very different from but parallel to Gina, who is just so fucked over, it keeps legitimately making me angry for her.

Gina, of course, brought none of this on herself. She made the mistake of caring about BoJack and trying to help him. OOPS YOU WERE A GENEROUS PERSON WITH AN OPEN HEART FUCK YOU LADY. For her trouble, Gina has been assaulted and traumatized, AND she is in very real danger of her career being over when it’s only just finally beginning. And she KNOWS THIS. That’s the part that I keep coming back to. All this should be an aberration, an anomaly, and while that may be true of the specifics, conceptually, it’s so commonplace that Gina already knows how it’s going to play. She’ll stop being Gina and become The Woman Nearly Strangled To Death By BoJack Horseman. Even if she’s able to keep working, this is what she’ll be asked about in every interview forever. Even if she convinced people to genuinely listen to her, BoJack would, at worst, get a slap on the wrist as he stumbles back to his feet. We know that, WE ALL KNOW THAT, because it happens all. the. fucking. time. Gina did nothing wrong, but this would still define her for the rest of her life, while for BoJack, it would maybe become a footnote on his Wikipedia page.

Nothing about that is FAIR. Nothing about it is JUST. Gina’s choices shouldn’t have to be “this becomes my entire life” or “swallow this down and pretend it never happened”. But it is, as it has been in perpetuity for the victims of the privileged.

So then what can we do about it? Well that’s really the question, isn’t it? This episode answers it in an assortment of ways (I think the entire SHOW is very much about this, really, but this episode is for sure coming with guns blazing), while also showing us why none of those answers can work. It’s funny and sad and awful and true, but also, ultimately, the most hopeful answer because it’s the only one you can actually affect: It’s you. It’s me. It’s each and every one of us, individually, making a choice to be better.

And believe it or not, we embody this with Henry Fondle: Sex Robot.

I thought the whole thing was so unbelievably stupid. Half the season, we’ve had this goddamn multi-dildo’d juvenile frat boy joke running around with its stupid ass Speak-and-Say voice, doing the same shtick over and over, and I’m like, “okay this is just the shit I have to put up with to get the clever stuff, I guess.” BUT THAT’S EXACTLY THE POINT I’M SITTING THERE LIVING THE ENTIRE GODDAMN POINT AND MISSING IT. Henry Fondle: Sex Robot is seventeen shades of overt horribleness, AND WE ALL JUST GIVE IT A PASS. It’s just the way it is, the way the world works, the price of doing business. When the whole time -- THE ENTIRE FUCKING TIME -- all it took was one person to say no. One person who could see the game we all are playing and was willing to give up everything to stop it.

Hilariously, Henry Fondle IS a metaphor, sort of, but of the saddest kind. He is literally a robot, he can’t possibly change. What’s more, media fervor will never affect him, fallout will never touch him, and the powerful will always rally around themselves to retain their power. It takes Todd, the head of the company, the creator of Henry Fondle, and the one person who would benefit most from the unending efforts of the rest of the world bending over backwards to avoid the truth, to put a stop to it. In doing so, he immediately returns to his old, homeless, destitute self, but doesn’t once hesitate or look back.

It’s Todd, and only Todd, that stops that madness, because while individual people are a problem, the world at large is too. Stefani makes a great point that Diane holds herself and everyone else to impossible standards and a little forgiveness and grace wouldn’t go amiss, but when Diane suggests they apply that philosophy to their clickbait gossipy shit on their website, it’s just

Which again, is beautifully cynical and depressing, but not untrue. Fostering a more forgiving culture isn’t in stopping websites from posting clickbaity takedown articles, it’s each person deciding not to take the clickbait. We can absolutely have a conversation about the people creating their world or the world creating its people, but when you boil it down, only one of those things can you yourself absolutely and directly change, and it’s not the entire world.

A THING DIANE GETS BUT SIMULTANEOUSLY ABSOLUTELY DOES NOT.

I can’t take myself away from this Diane thing, I know, but only because she’s the fucking CORE of each and every one of us struggling with this idea. She’s the simplicity of it and the complication all in one. Not BoJack, which is NOT where I thought we’d be when we started this journey. BoJack is more an action on the people around him at this point in the story, he IS the world you cannot change. He’s pointed to rehab, and off he goes -- or doesn’t! I don’t think it’s coincidence that we stay with Diane and watch her watching him.

Oh, Diane, indeed. As she tells her story of her friend Abby, who threw her over for the cool kids, who turned every confidence into a scar. Who Diane still helped anyway, because Abby needed her. Did Abby learn from that, did she get better? We don’t know; we stay with Diane and watch her watching Abby. Diane, who can so completely understand about personal responsibility while failing to recognize her own enabling for the shitty things that keep happening to her.

You can control yourself. That’s it. That’s the only playground with a guarantee.

Will BoJack go off to learn that? Will Diane stay and figure it out?

THAT’S WHAT NEXT SEASON IS FOR

Something I was toying with including in this, but ultimately decided against for a variety of reasons, was the contrast between BoJack’s take on personal responsibility independent of external response, and The Good Place’s argument that people need external support for personal growth. An idea I may not have even considered contrasting save that Doc’s talked before about these two Jewish creators with what are clearly very different philosophies, and basically, if she were ever able to manage a discussion between them on this, I’d love to be in the room. I’ll be very quiet and not get in the way, I promise.

[the-hate-keeps-me-warm]

More than a memory

Sorry if this is formatted really horriblly I finished this up on mobile I hope you like this there’s about 2 paragraphs I cut of ruby nerding out

Once they got to Vacuo oscar was sorta unofficially a huntsman now laws are a lot looser here so he’s been saving quite a bit of money from going on missions after team rwby and Jaune came back it was weird they were only gone a month but so much had changed the merge was almost finished he could feel it every day he felt less like himself he didn’t even object when Theodore called him oz anymore he and ruby weren’t as close anymore whatever happened wherever they were changed her he got bits and pieces from Jaune and yang but the others kept quiet he knew that he’d be gone soon so he wanted to leave something for her kinda like proof that they ever met in the first place so he was now standing in a vacuan market at 12 am alone with a lot of lien on him this was probably a bad idea but at one point he heard ruby ramble about this gun shop that they were the best at what they do so he called made an appointment it just so happens they prefer to see let’s just say unofficial clients at night he knocked at the door it read “bikal bullets” it opened and an old owl faunas man opens it his large yellow eyes are piercing “hello mister pine headmaster theodore told me to expect you” oscar rubs his hands together “yes mister bikal he said to come late” mr Bikal leads him inside on the walls hang dozens of expensive weapons “so mr pine what are you looking for” oscar took the blue prints out of his bag and set them down on the drawing table “um im looking for something custom built its for a friend” mr bikal takes the blue prints and examines them “these are pretty impressive mr pine did you draft these yourself theses yourself” oscar nods “mostly i had a little help with the math part of it but the mechanical stuff i did myself” mr bikal nods “something like this will cost a good amount even with the discount you get for being school staff” oscar nods “do you have an estimate on the price and how long it'll take to make” mr bikal snaps his teeth “around 12000 lien and 2 weeks” oscar nods he had 140000 saved up but he did want to buy some more things for the others “alright i can uh i can afford that” mr bikal goes over to what looks like a drawing table and pins them up “i will start work immediately mr pine you make your payment on completion if you desire the school has credit with me the price includes 3 magazines and a case so that will also be custom made shall you pick it up or would you prefer its delivered” oscar stands uncomfortably as mr bikal starts measuring out pieces of fine metal “ill pick it up dont worry” mr bikal nods and says “alright mister pine your can go now its not a good look for a young man to be out so late especially so close to the red light district” oscars face gets red “yes of course” oscar leaves and walks back to the academy sneaking back into his dorm room was easy tho nora did pester him about where hed been he had left a note saying when he would be back for the next 2 weeks he kept a poker face nora helped him set up his bank account so the sudden spending of 12000 lien did give her pause so she decided to ask him about it

He was sitting on his bed reading some Treatise about some long-forgotten subject she knocked on the bedpost and he looks up “hey Nora did you need something” she sat at the end of his bed “hey what did you spend 12 thousand lien on” he hides his face “please don’t tell anyone it was on something for ruby” she smiles “ah young love I was worried that you wouldn’t make your move so what kind of thing sets you back 12 thousand it’s something big right” he nods his head “its a gun i-i had it commissioned for and it’s not really cause I’m trying to make a move or anything it’s more like a going away gift” Nora frowns and shakes his leg “where you going taking a vacation or something” he feels tears bite the edge of his eyes “Nora the merge it’s soon I know it won’t be long until I’m gone and I want you all to remember me but her especially I don’t want to be just a memory” he struggles to keep the tears at bay but nora pulls him into a hug tighter but somehow softer than her usual ones “hey you will never ever be just a memory you will always be you and even if your not you'll always be one of us we all love you so much” and then the damn breaks and he sobs into her shoulder “i don't wanna go away nora i want to live i wanna go to school see my aunt again” she rubs his back and says “i know sweetie you'll get to do all that ok i promise” he sniffles “nora i need you to do something for me if i do disappear ok i need you to go back to my aunt and tell her everything ok it can't be oz ok don't tell her how to find him it won't make sense i'll just hurt worse i dont want that for her” she nods “i won't ever have to do that ok but i promise” she holds him until he stops crying and they take a a a nap they always helped him calm down

Finally, after a long 2 weeks, he goes to pick it up when he goes inside Mr. Baikal shows him the box it’s a beautiful dark red mahogany wood he opens the case and looks at the pistol inside its silvered handle and barrel were beautiful he’s almost afraid to touch it the engravings were perfect exactly as he had drawn them if not better the moon and rose he had designed look perfect he takes it gently in his hands he looks down the sights the night sights glow a brilliant carmine red he looks at the magazine even it was of an amazing quality everything down to the smallest detail was exactly as he pictured it he sets it back into the case “thank you, mister, Bikal it's absolutely perfect” Mr. Bikal smiles and nods “I’m glad everything is to your satisfaction Mr pine if you find there is anything wrong with it or you want something changed everything I make comes with a lifetime warranty the paperwork is in the case as well as a certificate stating that I am in fact its builder” they shake hands and oscar takes it home in his bag he excitedly gets back to his dorm he sets it down still in his bag on his bed now all he have to do is give it to her

He sits on it for a few days but finally decides to just give it to her oz has his reservations about this but decided that oscar deserves this to maybe say goodbye in his own way

Ruby was going on walks around shade it’s something he noticed so he waited for her to go on one of those walks it was cool in vacuo at night the air was nice compared to the oppressive heat of the day she was meandering along the walkways he followed behind her a bit the case hung heavy in his bag even tho it wasn’t heavy at all after a while she sits at an old wooden bench overlooking the gardens he approaches and she perks up “oh hey oscar are you going somewhere” she says pointing to his bag he shakes his head “do you mind if I sit” she shakes her head “no go-ahead did you need to talk, something about Theodore?” he sits down on the other side of the bench gently setting his bag between them “no uh no I just uh I wanted to give you something” he opens his bag and takes the case out holding it out to her she takes it “it’s not my birthday is it this looks really nice you didn't have to do this” ruby says smiling “well i've been wanting to do something nice for you” oscar says rubbing the back of his neck she lifts the top and gasp gently lifting it from its case “oscar this is this is amazing” she drops the magazine and pulls the slide back making sure its clear and runs her hand along the engraving her symbol etched into the left side of the grip “oh thanks i uh actually designed it myself oz helped me with the math” she looks at him her eyes wide “oscar it took me 8 attempts to successfully design a functioning crescent rose gun design is really hard how long did you spend on this” oscar blushes “the idea kinda started in atlas i was gonna ask you to help me make one so i wouldn't have to rely on my cane but everything happen and when you were gone i kept messing with the idea and i kept thinking about you so i kinda ended up designing it for you more than me eventually do you like it” ruby scoffs “oscar do i like it i love it its probably the single greatest gift anyones ever given me” he smiles wide “really that makes me really happy I was worried you wouldn’t like it” she sets it back gently into its case “really Oscar it’s amazing you have a knack for design your gonna have to show me the draft notes and everything cause this is this is amazing I can’t wait to shoot it this is wow” she chokes up and he leans down “ruby are you ok” she nods wiping her face of nonexistent tears “no worries this is just really cool and sweet and god your so amazing” he felt his heart flutter and his cheeks heat up “the guy who built it that bikal guy you talked about was just as great as you always said” she puts a hand on his shoulder “are you telling me Hephaestus bikal made this Oscar” she says seriously “uh yeah why is that bad” she kisses his cheek and squeals “oh my god your amazing this is now even better god I could die happy wait his rates are insane how did you afford this” still recoiling from the kiss he bites his lip “uh huntsmen work” she narrows her eyes “how much did this cost Oscar it had to be expensive” he shakes his head “not telling it’s a gift you don’t need to worry about it just enjoy it” she punches his arm “I will but I am going to repay you for this somehow ok” “you already did” he says quietly he says rubbing the back of his neck “ruby I don’t really know how long I have left and I would like to spend at least some of it with you I understand if you don’t I know it might make it harder when I’m gone bu-whoa” he’s pulled into a hug she pulls his head into her shoulder and holds him tight “I wanna spend more time with you too but you will always be Oscar ok oz is oz you are you” he sighs and smiles “see what I mean by paying me back”

[loosenedidylls]

Blessings, Curses, Autism

My earliest memories are of waiting rooms with musty carpets and buckets of donated, broken toys. I guess it was worse for my parents, who had nothing to stare at but walls and trashy lifestyle magazines. Eventually, the professionals decided I had a condition called Asperger’s Syndrome, and there was one thing they wanted me to understand:

“It’s a blessing, not a curse.”

If someone asked me to list blessings off the top of my head, I’d mention 20/20 vision, pitch-perfect hearing, or George Foreman’s chin — not a neurological disorder that transforms the most natural stages of personal development into a confusing struggle. In hindsight, I would have preferred more concrete advice than ‘it’s a blessing, not a curse.’ Something like:

“Watch out for the train!”

…But the quippy slogan is what stuck. My parents dispensed it like a cheap plaster, and I still don’t know whose benefit it was for — mine, or theirs. What I do know, is that I never once believed them: I felt I was being brushed aside, or told to accept something blatantly untrue. Besides, children don’t care to question whether they’re blessed or cursed, so it was an answer to a question that hadn’t been asked. Existentialism is for adults trying to make the best of a bad situation.

Being an Autistic Child.

Autism is not a superpower. Thanks to certain pieces of popular media, you might think of autistic people as quirky-yet-brilliant detectives, awkward-yet-sexy hackers (always female), or nonverbal children with a deep, instinctive connection to whatever animal or alien the protagonists are trying to communicate with. Often, people with severe autism are plot devices in the same vein as a forbidden orb or set of nuclear launch codes. Instead of damsels waiting for Bruce Willis to save them, they’re objects waiting for Bruce Willis to understand them.

A lot of autistic people are brilliant academically, though not for the reasons you might think. A common feature of autism is hyper-fixating on ‘special interests’, obsessing over a subject until one has learned everything about it, before moving on to the next. Very few people become maths geniuses this way; more often they become diehard Sonic fans or start giving lots of money to Games Workshop. Here are a few of the phases I went through:

-          Thomas the Tank Engine.

-          Pokémon.

-          Old English monster myths.

-          Naruto.

-          Peter Jackson’s King Kong (both the movie and the video game).

-          Bleach (the anime, thankfully, not the cleaning product).

Fairly normal interests for a young person, right? Now remember the hyper-fixation part. People with Asperger’s tend to focus on certain interests at the expense of others, and those ‘rejected interests’ are usually vital for social development. Now remember that high school is a psychopathic hellscape crawling with cruel little monsters ready to vent their newfound territorial instincts on anyone who doesn’t fit in. The kid who wants to discuss the depiction of brontosauruses in a sort-of-okay remake of a 1933 movie isn’t doing himself any favours — constant bullying drives him even deeper into reclusive interests and solitary hobbies, and from there, it’s the luck of the draw whether those hobbies resonate with any of the kids around him.

I’ve always known a lot about things no one knows about, and nothing about things everyone knows about. This, along with the fact that a lack of social life makes it easy to focus on one’s studies, creates the illusion that some autistic kids are eccentric geniuses-in-the-making. Parents — especially the parents of autistic children — are quick to latch onto any display of intelligence. They watch intently for any sign their long struggle is paying off, and when it happens, they praise their child endlessly, reinforcing behaviour patterns both good and bad. Because adults told me I was intelligent, I told other children I was intelligent, and you can imagine how well that went.

This misapprehension — confusing a bunch of random trivia for genius — followed me into high school, hurting me all the while, which is ironic, because it was the only positive way I could think about myself.

I’m lucky to have found books and writing as lifelong passions, but that almost didn’t happen; in fact, I used to despise any writing task the teacher set for me, to the point of outright refusing to do the work. In my defence, I was trying very hard to be somewhere else at the time — mentally, that is. The idea of putting my feelings on paper, for all to see? I couldn’t conceive of anything more terrifying.

Harry Potter changed things. I was gifted The Deathly Hallows when it was first published, and even though I had no idea what was going on in the story (I hadn’t even seen The Order of the Phoenix yet), I thought it was wonderful — maybe because I was getting a sneak peek into a future movie. Since then, I’ve always had a book close at hand, and it wasn’t long before I started writing my own novels (more on those another time).

 Voracious reading was, technically, another un-social activity that would consume my waking hours, but at least it was productive. My grades improved dramatically. I got good at writing essays. I became better at expressing myself, and I started to consider other people’s points of view. I made friends, lifelong bonds. I wouldn’t say I was happy at that stage of life — bullies tend to push back against things like improved mental health — but at least I was growing.

Looking back, I can’t help but wonder how close I came to disaster. I was 13 or so. If I’d left it any later, I doubt the outcome would have been so peachy. There are plenty of autistic adults with no friends, no employable skills, no human contact but ageing parents and rare, fleeting therapy sessions. Many of these people are quirky and brilliant, but there’s no happy ending for them.

Being an Autistic Adult.

Autism never goes away. It never gets ‘better’. It isn’t curable because it’s not a disease, despite what the vaccine deniers might tell you; autism is an intrinsic part of my neurological makeup, and living with it is a process of compromises.

I had to accept, early on, that I’m not the same sort of human being as the people around me. My brain is a different brand of brain: it makes different connections, processes different bits of data at different speeds. Things that seem obvious to you, need to be explained to me. I struggle to read a room, and I’m never quite sure if the person I’m talking to would really rather I shut up.

Put simply, my childhood experiences made me keenly aware of myself as an outsider. I need to watch for people’s reactions to anything I say or do, all the while navigating a maze of social cues and left-unsaids — but sooner or later, I’m always going to slip up. When you are differently-brained, it’s easy to misinterpret instructions, or to misjudge which thread of discussion is most important; and when you’re processing so much data at any one time, small-yet-vital points are going to slip under the radar. The result is being told off, being laughed at (‘laughing with you, not at you’ is another fun slogan I’ve learned to endure), and generally feeling stupid or useless for overlooking one point of data among hundreds.

 As I grew into an adult, I got better at performing normal. Nowadays, only those who spend a lot of time around me can spot the signs of my condition: I seem confident, funny, sympathetic, and I make friends easily. As I write this, I can’t help but feel uneasy: it makes me wonder, and not for the first time, how much of my personality is genuine. In high-stress situations, the generic piece of advice is ‘relax and be yourself.’ Succeeding in life as an autistic person means learning not to be yourself, or at least creating a version of yourself that can exist in public — so, where does the real me end, and the performance begin? Are they one and the same? I’ll never know the answer to that question.

Being an autistic adult, then, means pretending I’m not autistic for the benefit of other people. It’s a lifelong, often exhausting performance, and the temptation to retreat into my shell is ever present. But, just like anyone else, I long for human contact, so the compromise is a necessary one.

Blessings & Curses: Redux.

Terry Pratchett wrote that humans need to learn to believe the little lies so they can believe in big ones. There’s something I wish I knew during the bad years; that I was far from the only person suffering from my condition. My parents were stumbling in the dark just like me, except they had to pretend everything was under control.

My dad confided in me, recently, how he used to cry — a lot — during those days when I would return from school after another worst day of my life, talking about footballs thrown at my head, being cornered and verbally abused, or being removed from class after another tantrum. These were practically daily occurrences, and they’ve left their lifelong marks on me, but I’ve never lacked for brilliant people willing to help, people who were alongside me in my suffering. Raising a child is hard, and raising a neurodivergent child is even harder. Can I blame my parents for wanting to believe in blessings, and not curses?

Most of the time, those bad years seem like a distant memory. I don’t see autism as my blessing or my curse; it’s just a part of me — a frustrating, limiting, often embarrassing part of me, but one just as vital as my eye colour or ethnicity. I’ve come to accept it and be content despite it, and I suppose that’s the best outcome I could hope for.

[longitudinalwaveme]

The Amazing James Jesse

The Flash stars in: The Amazing James Jesse

Dramatis Personae

Barry Allen, the dorky, chronically late police scientist who is secretly the Flash

Patty Spivot, Barry’s coworker, who is just as awkward as he is

Mirror Master, the larcenous Lord of the Looking Glass, alias Sam Scudder

Heat Wave, a dimwitted, loyal pyromaniac, alias Mick Rory

Captain Boomerang, the rude, crude, and socially unacceptable Australian appropriator, alias George “Digger” Harkness

The Trickster, a charming con artist with weaponized yo-yos, alias James Jesse

Script

Act I

(Enter Barry Allen and Patty Spivot, from opposite directions. Barry is on the phone, and Patty is carrying a tray full of things )

Barry: (On the phone) Don’t worry, Iris. I won’t be late, I promise. Mmm-hmm. Uh-huh. No, I didn’t forget that Bart’s going to his friend’s house. Mmm-hmm. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yes, I remembered to water the flowers this morning. (Pause) That’s terrific, honey! I knew that article was a winner. You’re an amazing- (runs into Patty, knocking tray out of her hands and dropping his phone). Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, Miss...um….what’s your name again? I’m sorry, I’m terrible with names. (Patty is on her knees, trying to pick up the mess. Barry joins her, and they clean up the mess as they talk.) Here, let me help you. I’m really sorry. That was my fault. I’m-

Patty: You’re Barry Allen, the chief forensic scientist of the CCPD!

Barry: Yes, I am. Actually, as far as I knew, I was their only forensic scientist. What’s your name? I know I should know it, but like my wife says, I’d probably lose my head if it wasn’t screwed on.

Patty: I’m Patty Spivot, the newest member of the forensics department. I’ve only been here for a week, so it’s not surprising you don’t know my name. I was just transferred here from Coast City.

Barry: Nice to meet you. (Stands up and helps her to her feet) Did we clean up everything?

Patty: Everything but your phone.

Barry: Oh. Right. I’ll get that. (Picks up phone) Welcome to CCPD’s forensics lab, Ms. Spivot. I promise, I’m not this much of a klutz most of the time.

Patty: Anything else I should know, Mr. Allen?

Barry: Well, I’m always late, Captain Singh’s bark is worse than his bite, Detective Chyre acts tough but is nice once you get to know him, and literally running into me is probably the most exciting thing that will happen to you in the forensics department. Central City doesn’t have much crime for such a large city, and the crimes that do happen usually don’t require much forensic examination, because the perpetrators often don’t try to hide their guilt. So before you ask, no, you probably won’t work on a Rogues case. I never have, and I know the Flash personally.

Patty: Is that why CCPD only has two forensic scientists?

Barry: Pretty much.

Patty: That would explain the fact that I was transferred to such a large city despite the fact that I don’t have a whole lot of experience.

Barry: Well, if you need help, you can just ask me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Ms. Spivot, I should probably call my wife back before she starts to worry about me.

Patty: No problem. Good-bye, Mr. Allen.

Barry Allen: Good-bye, Ms. Spivot. It was nice to meet you. (Patty exits, Barry pulls out phone) Hello? Iris? (Pause) Yes, it’s me. I accidentally dropped my phone. What were you saying about that article again? (Pause) Oh, that’s right, it got on the front page. Congratulations, sweetheart! Mmm-hmm. Uh-huh. (Pause) No, everything’s been quiet lately. Mmm-hmm. Mmm-hmm. All right. I love you, honey. Good-bye. (Puts phone away) I really wish I hadn’t lost my super speed. It’s nice to know that Wally and Jay have my back, but I miss running around as the Flash all the time. Oh, well. I can help people as police scientist Barry Allen just as well as I did as the Flash. (Barry walks to chair, sits down, and starts mixing chemicals) Besides, now that I’m not the Flash, I can spend more time with Iris and Bart. This is good. This is fine. I am totally not upset that my nephew and my idol are better at being the Flash than I was. This is great. (Pause) Why am I talking to myself?

(Enter Patty)

Patty: Mr. Allen, the Flash is here to see you.

Barry: Which one?

Patty: I’m not sure. He’s younger than us, if that helps.

Barry: Oh. That’s Wally. Tell him I’ll be right out.

Patty: Okay, Mr. Allen. I will.

(Exit Patty)

Barry: Knowing Wally, he’s found a new favorite fast food place. But I can’t say no to seeing my favorite nephew. And who knows, maybe he has some useful information this time.

(Exit Barry)

Act II

(Mirror Master is onstage. Enter Heat Wave)

Heat Wave: Hi, there, Mirror Master! It’s good to see you!

Mirror Master: Hey, Mick. Where’s the Captain? I thought you were bringing him.

Heat Wave: Well, I was going to, but I couldn’t find him. I think they must’ve moved him to a different wing of the prison or something.

Mirror Master: Well, that’s unfortunate. Did you find anyone else?

Heat Wave: Nope. Piper tried to escape two weeks ago, but being the bleeding heart that he is, when he saw that one of his fellow-escapees was trying to kill a guard, he stopped him but got a broken arm in the process, so he won’t be out for awhile. Golden Glider and the Top are in Hawaii for the fifth anniversary of their first date, and Weather Wizard seems to have dropped off the map entirely. Nobody knows where he is.

Mirror Master: Well, that’s just dandy. I’m pretty powerful, but I don’t think we can pull off a heist with just the two of us.

(Enter Boomerang)

Boomerang: G’day, mates!

Heat Wave: Oh, that’s right! Captain Boomerang finally recovered from his broken leg! I knew I was forgetting something!

Mirror Master: Hey, Digger. Long time no see. How’s your leg? Boomerang: Never better, mate.

Heat Wave: Hi again, Digger. I’m glad that you’re feeling better.

Boomerang: Thanks. You’re a bonzer mate, Heat Wave

Heat Wave: Thanks. (To Mirror Master) That wasn’t an Australian insult, was it?

Mirror Master: No, you’re good. (To Boomerang) Why are you in such a good mood?

Boomerang: Two reasons, mate. First, I can finally fight the Flash again and prove to him that boomerangs always come back. Second, I’ve got enough coldies to get off my face.

Mirror Master: You will save that for after the heist, won’t you?

Boomerang: Of course I will. I’m a bloody professional, I am.

Mirror Master: All right. Do either of you have an idea for our heist? Because if you don’t, I was thinking that we could-

(Enter Trickster, disguised as the Flash)

Trickster: Stop in the name of the law!

Boomerang: Oh, no! It’s the Flash!

Heat Wave: You can’t show up yet! We’re not ready!

Mirror Master: Stop yelling at him and run!

Trickster: (Laughs) You should see the looks on your faces! (Takes off disguise) They’re priceless! (Laughs harder)

Heat Wave: (excited) Trickster?

Boomerang: (confused) Trickster?

Mirror Master: (annoyed) TRICK-STER!

Trickster: That’s my name, don’t wear it out!

Heat Wave: Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in months, little buddy!

Trickster: Oh, here, there, and everywhere. (Pulls out tacky souvenir) Want some memorabilia from Las Vegas?

Mirror Master: I think I’ll pass. (Pause) What were you doing in Las Vegas?

Trickster: What everyone does in Vegas: making stupid decisions that they’ll later regret!

Mirror Master: Meaning?

Trickster: I decided to use my airwalker shoes to sit on top of that big pyramid with a hundred balloons tied around my waist and while wearing bell-bottom jeans and a hot pink shirt.

Mirror Master: And you decided to do this because….

Trickster: I like attention!

Mirror Master: (Aside) Well, that much is obvious.

Boomerang: Why didn’t you take me, mate? I love Vegas!

Trickster: Because you almost died of alcohol poisoning the last time you went to Vegas, and that was kind of a downer.

Heat Wave: Did you go anywhere else, little buddy?

Trickster: As a matter of fact, I did! I went to New Orleans-Mardi Gras is fun!-and New York City and Hollywood and Chicago and Gotham and Star City and Metropolis and Coast City and Seattle and Paris!

Mirror Master: How’d you go to Paris? None of us would ever get approved for a passport.

Trickster: Paris, Kentucky . It’s got really nice people-why, I sold more shares for the Great Mississippi Bridge there than I did anywhere else.

Heat Wave: Oooh, can I buy a share, too?

Trickster: I’d love to let you, my shortness-challenged friend, but the Great Mississippi Bridge isn’t real, just my latest money-making trick. I don’t want to cheat a friend.

Heat Wave: Oh. (Pause) How’d you get so smart, little buddy?

Trickster: It’s a gift-just like my angelic cuteness.

Mirror Master: (Aside) Angelic my foot. (To Trickster) So you disappeared for six months to go on a cross-country swindling trip?

Trickster: No, I disappeared for six months to admire my country. The swindling was just an additional benefit. (Pulls out a wad of bills) Anybody want some cash?

Boomerang: Why, you little ripper! Have I ever told you that your blood’s worth bottling? ‘Cause it is, mate. Give it here. (Trickster hands him some bills) Thanks!

Trickster: No problem. Anyone else?

Heat Wave: Sure, little buddy. (Trickster gives him money) This really warms my heart.

Trickster: What are friends for? ( Pause) How about you, Sam?

Mirror Master: All right, what’s the catch?

Trickster: Oh, no catch, my suspicious friend. No catch at all. I live to outwit people, not to make money. I don’t need extra cash tying me down. (Pause) Do you want the money now?

Mirror Master: I’m good, thanks. (Pause) So, do you have an idea for a heist? Because if not, I was thinking that-

Trickster: As a matter of fact, I do! Central City’s First National Bank is receiving a new shipment of money, and I have a brilliant idea for how to steal it. I’ll create a distraction with my amazing bubble machine and my rubber chickens while you guys use the Mirror Realm to get into the vault and take the money. If the Flash shows up, he’ll be impeded by the large crowds and by my weaponized yo-yos, and even if he gets past me, he’ll still have to defeat both Captain Boomerang and Heat Wave to get to you-and since you can pick us up from just about anywhere, all we have to do is make sure that you escape with the cash. Am I brilliant, or am I brilliant?

Captain Boomerang: Sounds good to me, mate!

Heat Wave: I like it, too. You’re so smart, Trickster.

Trickster: I know. Mirror Master?

Mirror Master: (Aside) I’ll probably regret agreeing to this idea, but it’s not actually a bad plan, so I can’t really object to it. (To Trickster) It’s a sound idea. Let’s do it.

Trickster: I knew you’d like it. Now, let’s go get lunch and get ready for our heist!

(Exit all)

Act III

(Barry is onstage. Enter Patty.)

Patty: Hi, Mr. Allen.

Barry: Oh, hello again, Ms. Spivot. What do you need?

Patty: Well, normally I wouldn’t have bothered you, because I know that you’re really busy with that arson case, but I just got a really weird phone call.

Barry: What sort of weird phone call?

Patty: It was from somebody who was calling himself James Jesse. He said that you were the Flash, but that’s impossible because you said that the Flash was your nephew and…..

Barry: James Jesse?

Patty: Yeah. Kind of a strange name, I thought…..

Barry: Ms. Spivot, James Jesse is the Trickster!

Patty: But why would he be calling you?

Barry: Because I’m the Flash, too….or rather, I used to be.

Patty: What do you mean, you used to be?

Barry: A month ago, I was fighting Abra Kadabra, a malevolent magician from the 64th century, when he hit me with some sort of ray that took away my super speed. Luckily, Wally and Jay were there, too, and managed to defeat him, but I didn’t get my powers back, so I had to give up being the Flash. The Trickster doesn’t know about that, because he left Central City six months ago, so he still sees me as the Flash.

Patty: Well, what should I do? He really seems to want you to talk to him.  

Barry: (Sighs) Give me the phone. I’ll come up with something.

(Patty exits, then returns with a phone)

Patty: Here, Mr. Allen.

Barry: (Takes phone) Thank you. (To Trickster) This is Barry Allen, Trickster. What do you want? (Pause) I’d advise you not to go through with that heist if you value your liberty. (Pause) I can’t say I expected you to change your mind. Just know that the Flash will be there to stop you. Mmm-hmm. Uh-huh. Good day. (Closes phone) He’s planning a heist at the First National Bank. Tell the police that they should be ready for the Flash to deliver some Rogues to them.

Patty: I will, Mr. Allen. Gosh, this is so exciting!

(Exit Patty)

Barry: Now to call Wally. (Dials number) Wally’s Voice: (From offstage) I can’t come to the phone right now because I’m fighting aliens. Leave a message after the beep.

Barry: Okay, I’ll try Jay. (Dials number)

Jay’s Voice: (From offstage) This is Jay Garrick, the original Flash. I can’t come to the phone right now, so please leave a message.

Barry: (Closes phone and sighs) Now what am I supposed to do? Jay and Wally are both busy, and I don’t have my speed. Who’s going to stop the Trickster and his teammates now? What am I going to do? The Rogues have to be stopped, but without my speed, I don’t know if I can stop them. Of all the times for the Trickster to show up again...wait a minute! That’s it! It’s time for police scientist Barry Allen to out-trick the Trickster! (Pause) Who am I talking to?

Act IV

(Enter Trickster, Mirror Master, Heat Wave, and Boomerang. Trickster is carrying a rubber chicken, a teddy bear, and his “amazing bubble machine”)

Mirror Master: Okay, that food was legitimately delicious. Good call, Trickster.

Trickster: Why, thank you, Sam.

Heat Wave: I agree. I especially liked their ghost peppers. They’re so warm and spicy.

Boomerang: And their beer is terrific!

Mirror Master: I thought I told you not to drink until we were done with the heist!

Boomerang: It was only one tinny, Sam. It ain’t gonna hurt me.

Mirror Master: That’s what you said right before that heist where you set off the burglar alarm because you were too drunk to avoid it, too.

Boomerang: But I mean it this time!

Heat Wave: Mirror Master, he’s good at what he does. He’ll be fine.

Mirror Master: I hope you’re right, Mick. I really hope you’re right.

Trickster: Besides, I called the Flash and told him about our heist already, so it won’t matter if he sets off an alarm.

Mirror Master: You did WHAT?

Trickster: I called the Flash and told him about our heist. I told you, I like attention-and I like the Flash’s attention best of all, because he’s a real challenge!

Mirror Master: But he always beats us! How do you expect our heist to succeed if he knows that it’s going to happen ahead of time?

Trickster: Because it’s the game I love, not the money! Didn’t I already tell you that?

Boomerang: Do you have kangaroos loose in your top paddock or what? I want money, not a beating from the Flash!

Trickster: Don’t worry so much, guys. The only person who has to get in the bank is Mirror Master. It doesn’t matter what happens to us as long as he gets away.

Heat Wave: See, guys? He knows what he’s doing.

Mirror Master: Forgive me if I’m less than convinced. (Sighs) All right, let’s get to the bank. Maybe we’ll get lucky and be able to salvage some of the heist.

(Cut to Trickster standing outside the bank, shooting bubbles everywhere)  

Trickster: Bubbles bubbles bubbles! Fear my bubbles!

(Enter Barry Allen)

Barry: Hello, Trickster.

Trickster: Hi, Flash! Do you like my bubbles?

Barry: Indeed I do. They’re quite impressive.

Trickster: Really? Why, thank you!

Barry: Is there anything special about those bubbles?

Trickster: Actually, yes! The bubbles can stick to people and hold them in place.

Barry: And what else do you have?

Trickster: Ooh, I have an explosive teddy bear and a rubber chicken that sprays sleeping gas when I squeeze it.

Barry: Fascinating.

Trickster: Aren’t you going to try to stop me?

Barry: Why would I do that? Your new inventions are far too advanced for me to stop.

Trickster: Really? Well, that’s disappointing. The game isn’t fun if you won’t play.

Barry: I’m sorry to disappoint you, Trickster.

Trickster: Can’t you at least try to stop me?

Barry: Sorry. No can do.

Trickster: Please? Please? Please? Pretty please?

Barry: Don’t you want to win?

Trickster: It doesn’t count if you let me win! It’s no fun!

Barry: That’s terribly unfortunate.

Trickster: Stop that! Stop it stop it stop it!

Barry: Stop what?

Trickster: Stop not trying!

Barry: Good-bye, Trickster.

(Barry starts to leave)

Trickster: NO! If you won’t play, then I quit!

(He throws down his weapons and starts to leave)

Barry: All right, then you’re under arrest.

(Barry handcuffs Trickster)

Trickster: (Stunned) You….you tricked me!

Barry: Yes, I did. You see, I don’t have my super powers right now, so if I had fought you directly, I would have lost and you would have gotten away. Therefore, I realized that if I wanted to defeat you, I had to turn your own nature against you. You always want a challenge, so I knew that if I didn’t provide it to you, you would eventually try to leave, and I could then catch you off guard. Face it, Trickster. I just beat you at your own game.

Trickster: So you did...but since you don’t have superpowers, how are you going to stop my teammates from robbing the bank?

(Enter Boomerang, Mirror Master, and Heat Wave, all looking rather disheveled)

Barry: Well, you see, while I was on my way here to out-trick you, I managed to get ahold of Wally, and while I was distracting you, he stopped your friends.

Mirror Master: (To Trickster) I knew trusting you was a bad idea!

Boomerang: Yeah! I don’t know why I trusted you! I mean, you call yourself the bloody Trickster! And now, thanks to you, I won’t get to enjoy getting off my face!

Heat Wave: Aww, lay off the little guy. How was he supposed to know that we’d end up facing two Flashes instead of one?

Mirror Master: Because he’s supposed to be the smart one! He’s a con artist! Outsmarting people is his job! Are you telling me that it was too much for him to outsmart two people at once?

Trickster: Well, I may be a con artist, but I’m also a performer. If I don’t have an appreciative audience, I don’t see the point in going onstage.

Heat Wave: I appreciate your work.

Trickster: And I appreciate the sentiment, but you weren’t there when he showed up, so I was stuck when he refused to play along.

Boomerang: You coulda done something, mate!

Trickster: (To the audience) Some people have no appreciation for art. (To Boomerang) Done what? Attack a Flash who wouldn’t fight back? That was too easy! It would’ve been boring!

Mirror Master: More boring than going to prison?

Trickster: I like prison-in limited doses, anyhow. I love trying out my humor on new guards!

Boomerang: Well, you may be loony enough to like prison, but I hate it! I can’t get a coolie in prison! If you wanted to go to jail, you should’ve done it on your own!

Trickster: And miss the opportunity to spend time with you guys? No way! You’re way too much fun to mess with!

Heat Wave: Trickster’s right. As long as we’re together, it doesn’t matter where we are.

Mirror Master: Just stop talking. You sound like a bad Hallmark movie. (To Barry) Please, take me away already so I don’t have to deal with Mr. Small, Blonde, and Annoying anymore.

Trickster: Aww, I love you too, Sam.

Boomerang: (To Barry) And could you gag him or something? I’ve had enough of listening to his big mouth for awhile. (Aside) Cripes, I really need a tinny.

Trickster: Pot, this is the kettle calling. He wants you to stop calling him black.

Heat Wave: Yeah, Digger. If anyone has a big mouth, it’s you.

Boomerang: Why are you taking his side? He got us all arrested!

Heat Wave: Because he gave us free money when he didn’t have to, did 80% of the work for this heist, and hasn’t gotten mad that you two are yelling at him. Sure, we didn’t succeed, but we never do. It ain’t fair to get mad at him, and you blaming him for our failure really burns me up.

Boomerang: (Aside) He’s gone soft, he has! (Pause) I’m really startin’ to regret that tinny. My head’s aching something fierce.

Mirror Master: (To Barry) Can we go now?

Barry: I’m surprised that you’re so eager, but yes, we can.

(All start to exit)

Trickster: I guess you could say that this was a…. speedy defeat!

Boomerang/Mirror Master/Barry/Heat Wave: TRICK-STER!

Trickster: (“Innocently”) What? (Pause, then, to Barry) Great acting, by the way. I’m impressed.

Barry: (Confused) Um...thanks. I think.

(Exit All)

Act V

(Barry is onstage, talking on the phone)

Barry: (To Iris) Yes, I’m fine. Thanks for your concern. (Pause) Yes, Wally was great. You can definitely give him a lot of credit in your article. Mmm-hmm. Uh-huh. Yes, I’ll be home soon. Tell Bart I love him. I love you, too. Good-bye. (Puts phone away) Not a bad day’s work for a man with no superpowers, if I do say so myself.

(Enter Patty)

Patty: Are you all right? I heard you got into a fight with those awful Rogues!

Barry: I’m all right, Ms. Spivot. I’ve fought the Rogues often enough that I know how to handle them, even without super speed. But thanks for your concern. I really appreciate it.

Patty: You’re welcome, Mr. Allen.

Barry: Oh my gosh! I just realized that I’m off work now! If I don’t hurry, I’ll be late to pick up Bart! Gotta run! Bye!

(Exit Barry)

Patty: (Takes off lab coat to reveal a black leather jacket underneath, pulls hair out of bun) Ugh! Playing the good girl is hard! (Pulls out phone) Hi, Roscoe, darling! Our plan is working perfectly! Thanks to everyone thinking that we’re in Hawaii, he doesn’t even suspect that I’m not really “Patty Spivot”. (Pause) Why, thank you, Roscoe! I’m so glad you think I’m clever. After all, it’s true. And get this! Trickster called police headquarters and didn’t even suspect that I wasn’t really a novice police officer! I outsmarted the Trickster! (Pause) Oh, honeybunch, are you all right? I know you’re sick, but I didn’t think it was that bad. (Pause) Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to get your cure, too. If all goes well, I’ll be able to make you well, defeat the Flashes, and prove to Lenny that I’m as bad as he is all with one scheme! (Pause) Be careful, my little snuggle bunny. Don’t overexert yourself. I love you. Bye-bye. (Puts phone away) Central City, you’d better watch out-the Golden Glider’s on the attack! (Laughs)

[romioneficfest]

Penannular

Title: Penannular Prompt: Day 7: Anything Goes Tumblr name: Rating: M Brief Summary: Ron gets an owl on a Sunday after brunch at the Burrow and realizes that some things have to change in short order. Content Warnings: financial insecurities, Locket remnants, harsh language, Smutty stuff, dealing with Director Robards

'Hermione,' Ron spoke clearly while summoning his Patronus, sending the scampering dog up the stairs to the first-floor room that served as Hermione’s office at Grimmauld Place, 'I need you to come downstairs to the kitchen,' he finished what he was saying and just now had to wait, holding the foot-long parchment in his hands, the official Ministry of Magic seal embossed at the top.

His hands hadn’t stopped shaking the last ten minutes that the owl had brought it to their home.

Hermione came down the stairs, holding the bent walnut wand she loathed, pointing it at him. 'Everything ok?'

'Yeah, you can lower the wand.'

She lifted it higher, pointing it at his nose.

'Fine. Last time we shagged it was on the bath mat in our bathroom, upstairs, yesterday morning after I got off of work.'

She dropped the wand and stowed it in the pocket of her housecoat. 'Something wrong?' she inquired.

'Yeah, no, maybe, I dunno.' He handed over the parchment to her, letting her read the two feet of parchment that arrived a little while ago. She scanned it, her eyes going wide like a house-elf before starting at the top and reading again. 

She looked up, tears in her eyes. 'This is brilliant,' she smiled. 'Your Mum needs to know about this straightaway.'

Ron pulled the parchment back, looking bright red. 'Why does she need to know right now?' He asked as he rubbed the back of his neck. 'Can’t she find out later?'

Hermione’s face fell. 'Something wrong, Ron?'

He sat down on the bench at the table, sighing dramatically. Hermione waited, learning that Ron needed time to work through what he wanted to say before he could sort things for her. He finally looked up, looking a bit boggled. 'Hermione, even with the money I’ve saved up working for George I can’t afford that,' he deflated, looking forlorn. 'It’s not like I can afford the alternative either, mind you.'

'I’m sure that – '

'No! I’m not asking him. He does so much for us already. I’m not asking anyone for any help.' He huffed before his face fell again. 'I’ll ask if I can pull extra shifts at the Ministry and with George to afford it,' he looked at the parchment again, 'but it’s so expensive.'

'I don’t understand, Ron. They aren’t asking you to buy it,' she reached for his hand and took his larger one in both of her own. 'It’s something they are bestowing onto you, for you to wear to work. It’s an honour that you are getting this. They aren’t making you pay for it.'

 'Lemme see that again,' he took the parchment from her hands and scanned it again. 'Oh,' he pointed out the phrase in particular. 'That’s what it means. I thought it meant I had to have it made myself, not that they weren’t giving it to me.'

'No, dear, you don’t have to pay for it.' She snuggled up even closer, fiddling with the tie he had worn to Sunday brunch at the Burrow. 'It’s nice that you will get to wear that on your work cloak. Maybe we should get you a new one? You’ve had the other one for so long it looks tiny on you.'

'Don’t play,' Ron took her hands and stilled them on his rumpled dress shirt. 'You spend too much money on me making me look presentable. If we get a new work cloak that is ridiculous the guys’ll take the piss if I show up looking like Lockhart fresh from a photoshoot. You already got me those wicked work boots that cost, what, 22 galleons. That’s so much money. A cloak will easily run that if not more.'

'You’re worth it and you won’t look like Lockhart,' she tossed aside the parchment to gaze at him, watching his ears turn red and the blush growing across his face, 'because you’re much more fanciable than he is so maybe spending a few galleons on a new cloak wouldn’t be a bad idea, not if you are to look sharp for the office now.'

'You think so?'

Hermione pulled her hands from his and went to the tie, loosening it even further. She took his hands back in hers, along with her wand, and Apparated them upstairs to the bedroom. Once settled, she loosened the tie and tossed it behind her.  'How can I convince you?'

Ron waggled his eyebrows before breaking out in a crooked grin. She rolled her eyes before starting with the top button of his dress shirt, working her way down. Ron kept his hands at his sides while Hermione unbuttoned his dress shirt before running her nails up and down the vest he wore under the shirt. He watched as she slowly undressed him, even going so far as to remove his socks. The lascivious grin from her, while she was on her knees in front of him as he stepped out of his pants, would always fuel his Patronus.

She left him standing in his skin, broken out in gooseflesh at her delicate touch.

One small push and he landed on their bed, ogling as she stood there disrobing. 'See that?' She pointed to the obvious. 'That is for me,' Hermione watched him get comfortable on top of the bedclothes before crawling on the bed and settling onto his lap. 'You’ll cross paths of many people every day while on the job. You’ll need them to respect you. You do that by seeing you looking sharp, professional, and those who don’t know, which will be a rare few,' she settled in and sighed dramatically, earning a groan from Ron, 'should spot that new item on your cloak and realize that you mean business.'  

His hands landed on her ample hips, holding them firm. 'It’s my job so of course I mean business.'

Hermione closed her eyes. 'I know that. You know that. I want everyone who crosses your path to see it and know they can’t fuck with you. Only I get to fuck you,’ she put her hands on his chest and all relevant, coherent conversation faded away for a good long while.

Sometime later, Ron kissed the top of Hermione’s head enjoying the soft snores that she adamantly denied happening, and appreciated that she was right on this, about the changes about to happen to him professionally.  While she might not think that a new cloak for work was an extravagant purchase, a little niggling voice inside his head kept saying, ‘You aren’t worth new robes.’

His experience with the Aurors made it quite easy to tell the nasty little voice to shut the fuck up.

Ron pushed open the doors to the Auror department of MLES for the start of his shift Sunday at half seven. Harry was already there, his ruck down at his feet. 'Wow, new cloak?'

'Yeah,' Ron rubbed the back of his neck, trying to hide the embarrassment of owning something new. 'Hermione thought I might look more professional with it over my usual work robes.'

'Is that Weasley I hear?' A gruff voice boomed over the department. ‘Bring your arse in here and bring Potter with you too.'

'Sir,' Ron sighed before taking the 35 steps to trudge to Director Robards’ office.  He heard Harry following him to Robards office. Considering they just arrived, they couldn’t have cocked up anything that fast.

They went in and stopped in front of Robards desk. He looked up, taking a pipe in his mouth and a stack of parchment in front of him. He looked Ron up and down and a frighteningly rare smile broke on his face. 'Nice cloak,' Robards said. 'Your new wand penannular brooch looks mighty fine on your cloak. The cloak is new, isn’t it?'

'Yes, sir, it is. I was informed I needed to look sharp on my first day as a licensed full-fledged Auror.'

'Well, she was right. Now let me get tonight’s duty roster and information for you.'

Harry leaned forward to see what looked like a brooch on Ron’s new cloak, holding it together while leaving his wand arm free. He smiled. 'You know,' Harry leaned close to whisper as to not disturb Robards, 'Most Aurors get a brass cloak pin. And the ones who earned an Order of Merlin get them in gold. Yours is silver with a purple wand. Why?'

'Griphook, courtesy of Bill. That odd little goblin said since we kept our end of the bargain, he would bestow this gift for me, subject to the standard goblin ownership laws.'

'Brilliant.' Harry pulled his out from inside his cloak and with his wand magically fastened it to his cloak, matching Ron. 'I said I wouldn’t wear mine until you did.'

Ron smiled. His best mate knew how to make a brother feel loved and appreciated. 

'If you two prats are done swapping pleasantries, we have work to do.'

[ronnytherandom]

Media n Stuff

2/1/2021: American Psycho

Excellent, truly. Has a lot to say about those on the top of our social hierarchy, the wealthy and influential and how our modern system facilitates them at the expense of everyone else. A very stylish film, well edited and directed. Rests upon a truly magnificent performance in the case of Christian Bale’s Patrick Bateman, who does a fantastic job of playing something pretending to be human. Soundtrack is a bop.

3/1/2021: Se7en

All right, not my kind of thing ultimately. There are some thoughts about legacy and what doing good means here but I feel its slightly obscure and could be more clearly stated; perhaps I wasn’t paying close enough attention. Directing is top notch. The acting also is good but nothing truly incredible. The suspense is very effective but on occasion can be defeated by pacing, excess time creating boredom. Further it was partially predictable, which harmed the effectiveness of the piece. Though the point of the state of the victims is to inspire disgust this especially did not fit the remit of entertainment for me.

4/1/2021: The Martian

Highly Enjoyable. As usual, weaker than the novel but not to a Golden Compass level. Any work that bends heaven and earth to save a single life is good in my books. Retains the wit and the scientific backbone to good effect to offset the bleakness. Likewise, the back-and-forth structure between Mars and other locations helps to make the survival scenario less overbearing. Star-studded cast, and I think rightfully so here as the performances are generally very good. Matt Damon as Mark Watney has many moments of excellence. Mars is beautiful and I’m glad Ridley Scott captured that well, on top of doing a job that lives up to his reputation.

5/1/2021: Dredd

Good. Though I worry about the implications of a “Not All Cops Bad” message, it could be interpreted elsewise and is decidedly sympathetic to civilians which works in its favour. There is the aspect of portraying Police and Criminals as two sides of the same coin, with Dredd and Anderson existing outside of said dichotomy to some degree, but ultimately implying that the existing system just needs the right people in it without severe reform, though again that’s up for debate. Otherwise, good spectacle and very nice presentation; the film can be beautiful at times and when it isn’t it has excellent action. Something I appreciate is a clear view of the action, rather than the choppy action of modern superhero films, and an unflinching approach to the depiction of gore even if I was flinching at times. Though I’m unfamiliar with the original work I find this an interesting dystopia, even if Dredd himself can be a little cliché. Performances haven’t left much of an impression though.

6/1/2021: The Wolf of Wall Street

Meh? It’s well made don’t get me wrong, everything looks and feels high quality. Of course, Scorsese is a good director. Of course, DiCaprio’s acting is fantastic, as is the rest of the acting to be frank, but it just doesn’t come together for me. I don’t feel like there was a compelling reason to sit through that for three whole hours. I can see meaning in the depiction of excess; of Belfort’s alienation, losing everything that should be dear to him; of the animal nature of people who just want to make money. I can appreciate the powerful performances and the craftwork on display. I just didn’t enjoy it.

7/1/2021: Enola Holmes

Enjoyable. Has a more juvenile tone than I like, that’s to be expected from a coming-of-age story, but it certainly does a far better job with the gifted sister idea than the BBC Sherlock series did. At times this film was truly joyous and inspiring and I would attribute that to a cast of endearing characters and a strong thematic core which is carried throughout the story. However, from a more radical perspective I cannot endorse a seeming admonishment of direct action, as much as I appreciate the idea that getting new blood in politics is a progressive step forward. Performances are good, Millie Bobby Brown does well in the lead, though I am not so keen on her 4th wall asides, and I always appreciate the sight of Henry Cavill. Also, proud to see Burn Gorman portray the most accurate Normal Englishman I’ve ever seen. I also wanted to make note of what id consider good editing, felt very snappy and effective.

8/1/2021: Shaun of the Dead

Very good, but maybe doesn’t quite live up to its reputation. Very put off by the use of F and N slurs even if the prior is in context with English slang at the time. Id say this is the lesser of the Cornetto trilogy films but with such competition it’d be hard to come out on top. Quite dry humour, I don’t think all the jokes land, but there are a few true laugh out loud moments. Similarly, it works emotionally only some of the time but at moments, especially in Philips last words, there’s some genuine power. I do feel like the pace lulls slightly too much at moments but is generally very good and saves itself for a fun final sprint. The Zombies themselves are true to Romero’s style of zombie and though the satire is light in comparison to character-zombie parallels it is still effective. Performances are good, and serve well in demonstrating the range of Simon Pegg and Nick Frost in comparison with the later Cornetto films and Bill Nighy is always a treat. I only ever have praise for Edgar Wright as a fan of all his later works, so I’m glad to see even his first feature demonstrates his ability well, stylish young man is our Edgar.

8/1/2021: Avatar: Legend of Korra: Series 1

Not by any stretch a worthy successor but good by its own merit. Has powerful emotional moments and excellent action, I cannot get enough of any kind of bending in this universe. Some characters are likeable; Korra is a good lead, Tenzin is my personal favourite and I want to hug Naga. Bolin, however, can get shafted. his particular brand of comic relief inspires in me an absolute hatred I cannot fully fathom. I have many little gripes though. I find the love “square” (?) plot annoying and do not understand what purpose it serves. Just be honest with each other goddamn! In universe I wonder at the limits of metal bending, but the police are content simply to launch cables with it. Why are the Chi Fighters such an obstacle in the first half and yet become cannon fodder by the end? I also feel like a lot of the “powerful moments” I feel are dependent on nostalgia for The Last Airbender, such as any moment where the original theme is played, or when General Iroh appears etc. This is particularly egregious with the feature of cabbage corp. Really? It is frustrating to me that Korra spends the entire series past the second episode tell-not-showing us she can’t airbend before having it essentially gifted to her, similarly with the avatar state. As much as she does endure hardship, I feel like the series would be improved even slightly if Korra’s bending is taken away completely and she uses the avatar state to rescue Mako from Amon, when she is actually at her definitive low point. I find with most episodes there are moments which I’m absolutely invested in and really enjoying but then a gripe or two will pop up and marginally ruin the experience for me. But again, these are minor and as much as I fuss over these details the ultimate product is enjoyable and watchable. The setting is certainly interesting but (probably by design) New Republic City clashes too harshly with the magic system, and I think it harms the series. The animators and artists however should be lauded, as the spectacle here is magnificent.

9/1/2021: Ex Machina

Magnificent piece of work. This is what I imagine is actual good cinematography, rather than the usual “pretty stills equals good cinematography” take. Every frame a painting indeed, aided in that way by fantastically beautiful set work. Each actor deserves applause but I feel especially Alicia Vikander. As Ava she does brilliant work and at times uses an alien affectation which is an impressive highlight of attention to detail here. The director knows exactly what they’re doing, the whole thing has a kind of spotless professionalism. Special Effects are minimalist but used so very well, especially the work of making Ava and the other AI look so real. I love that this is a film which doesn’t stoop to explaining every little thing and treats the audience as an equal, and how the tension is reflected in all aspects of the piece and builds to such a mighty crescendo, though I was quite put off by the self-harm scene and would rather that were not a thing. Not only all of that but its deeply meaningful with a lot to say about our own minds (I don’t think Nathan passes Turing test) with a decidedly feminist angle too. It really is a treat.

10/1/2021: Sourcery (unfinished)

Even as a fan of early Pratchett, this ain’t it chief. I don’t like it. The jokes don’t land, the only character I like is The Librarian and the whole thing just kind of bores me, so I’ve stopped somewhere just past halfway as I can’t be fussed for the rest. I don’t care about Coin, or the wizards, or Rincewind, even the Luggage has lost that pariah charisma it usually has. Conina feels weird? I feel like there this constant unnecessary sexualisation of her and Rincewind’s affections seem more than mildly inappropriate. I’ve been reading it a week and I’ve barely been able to drag myself to it these past couple of days so I feel its time for something a little fresher.

10/1/2021: The Two Popes

Very good. There is excellence in all aspects of this films craft. Johnathan Pryce gives an endearing performance; Anthony Hopkins is likewise very good as you’d expect. I think this is a film to listen to through a good sound system, the sound work struck me as exceptional in its attention to detail while the soundtrack is good fun. Direction is dynamic and effective most evidently in the camera work which tends to feel Just Right. Dialogue is very well written and feels very organic. I enjoy the themes of change and reconciliation and feel contrasting the character of the two popes expresses this very effectively, however I would much rather see evidence of genuine change that surely must’ve occurred rather than a simple implication of change as we see. There is the argument to be made that fully reconciling the old and the new without altering material reality, beyond giving speeches encouraging others to do so, represents the will to change being co-opted and perverted by the conservative establishment. But its still a nice sentiment and a well made film regardless.

[tavi-hayes]

practice challenge ~ journey to the palace

((whoopwhoop, idk how i managed to write this (given it’s quite long and i usually never ever write stuff this long) also please excuse me again for any spelling/grammar errors i try. alsoooo thanks to these wonderful girls: Bethia @h-hart​, Kat @clara-choii​ and Pia @brookelynnsanders​!))

It was silent at work today. The only sounds were the flipping of pages and the ticking on keys of a computer, followed by a frustrated sigh occasionally.

“Maybe we should get some more flutes?” I said, “they’re not that expensive and they won’t take up a lot of space here.”

Lola, being distracted by her laptop, showed no sign that she had heard what I just said.

“Helllooo, Lo are you there?”

“Huh, what?” she ran her hands through her hair as she looked my way.

I lifted the catalogue to show her the flute page.

“No Tavi,” Lo leaned her head on the back of the chair, doing the accounts must have tired her. “We already have flutes, and no one is ever interested in them. They have been here for decades.”

I rolled my eyes, “maybe that is why no one is interested. They look grim.”

Lo refocused on her laptop, and I flipped another page of the catalogue.

Oeh, the bass guitars. My favourite part.

I ran my finger over the page, paying a lot of attention to each one.

There were electronic bass guitars, but also the semi-acoustic ones. Some were very modern-looking with the brightest of colours, while others go for more of a vintage look.

I don’t know if I would ever be able to part with my own baby. The bass guitar, that I now owned, had been eyeing me every day since it had arrived in the store. It had been love at first sight.

But it was such a big investment and I just didn’t have that kind of money.

A part of my earnings was needed for us to make a living, pay the rent and do the groceries for example. And the other part that wasn’t needed for that, entered our savings jar.

We had been saving money since the day my dad was put behind bars. For whatever reason those bars had been in St. George. Freaking St. George.

The province didn’t even have direct borders with Denbeigh, Ottaro was right in between.

That made a simple, but still long, car ride impossible. Not taken the problems that come with the snowy climate into account.

That same climate also caused issues for our only transportation option.

Denbeigh’s climate was hard to predict at times. It could be a beautiful day with sunshine and a clear sky, but then you wake up the next morning to a thick layer of snow.

And because those snowfalls could happen in at least 8 out of 12 months, a lot of planes got cancelled in those months. The only airport anywhere near Winnipeg was privately owned. So the owners could literally ask the prices they wanted for the plane tickets. And boy, they were only focussed on making a profit.

For a simple family of Fives, those prices were unpayable. Hence why we had been saving money for 6 years now, still nowhere near able to pay for tickets. My mom would need a ticket, Daniel and I would too, and we just can’t leave little Aria and Arlan. My dad should be allowed to see them as well. That’s means we already need the money for 5 tickets. But if we include Daniel’s family, with his wife and little Melody, then that would equal 7 tickets.

So yeah, I would never have been able to buy that bass guitar.

Until Lo had a brilliant idea. They would give it to me as my birthday present for the upcoming 10 years. At first, I couldn’t accept that kind of gift, knowing it would have been a huge investment for the Wood family as well. But they insisted, hinting that they would get an employee discount anyway since you know Mr Wood owns the place. So, the price dropped, and they ignored me, so I had to give in and accept. It was the best gift I had ever gotten.

The stores door busted open, “GIRLS!” Gina’s voice took me back to earth. “they’re about to do the draw!”

“What draw?” apparently Lo shared my confusion.

Gina rolled her eyes and grabbed Lo’s laptop from the table. “Wait, I was working! Save it, save it!”

The laptop was put right on top of the catalogue I had just been looking through. Lo ushered over as well.

“Let me just,” Gina had opened an internet page and started typing in the website address of Winnipeg’s number one news channel, WTV. Such an original name.

The news anchor, some middle-aged woman with very fake looking blond hair, appeared on screen. “What is she wearing?” Lo asked, disgust and confusion both showing on her face.

“A track suit, it’s part of her image,” Gina unmuted the laptop, the crow-like voice of the woman filling the room, “now shush, I wanna hear this.”

“… Cameron Porter has been selected for the Illéan national ice hockey team. The star of Winnipeg’s very own ice hockey team, the Winnipeg Belugas, will accompany the national team to the world cup, taking place later this year in Saint Petersburg, Russia. Last week’s draw concluded that Illéa will have to face the German Federation and New Asia in the group stage. The national team’s training will start next week.”

Lo and I shared a look, “this is what you wanted to see Gina?”

“Since when do you care about ice hockey?” I asked, this was something new.

“Urgh, you guys are intolerable,” she silenced us with her finger.

“… and now we will switch to the royal palace in Angeles, to watch the live draw for Prince Arin’s Selection.”

The draw, of course that was what had sparked Gina’s interest. For some unknown reason, the entire Selection had slipped from my mind.

Nevertheless, I felt a little flutter in my stomach. Nerves. Looking over to my friends, I noticed the tense looks on both of their faces. Lo’s hands were clasped together, while Gina’s had disappeared in the pockets of her cardigan.

“Welcome,” some weird voice-over called.

With that the camera focussed on the prince.

“Urgh,” I rolled my eyes.

Lo poked me in the side, laughing, “oh Tavi your distaste is showing.”

“I don’t understand how you can hate someone who is that good looking. I mean have you seen that jawline? Perfection.” Gina had had a crush on the prince for as long as I had known her.

I rolled my eyes again, “I don’t hate him.” The drawing began before I had time to explain myself further.

“From Allens … Idalia Moretti.”

“He doesn’t look very happy,” I couldn’t help but comment, “or comfortable.”

Gina sighed probably annoyed that she couldn’t listen to the show properly, “his engagement was called off not that long ago. That is a pretty hard thing to deal with.”

“Yeah, I see, it’s so hard that he’s having a Selection. Shouldn’t he like get over the other girl first?”

My friends ignored me.

“From Angeles … Emily Rose White.”

This thing was going to take forever. I just wanted to look at the catalogue again, not at that prince, “he’s making me feel uncomfortable, just by watching him.”

Again, no response from either of my friends.

I took that as a sign to remain silent, knowing very well my friends wouldn’t reply anyway now that their eyes were locked on the prince.

“From Dakota … Brooke Lynn Sanders.”

Gina let out a breath she was holding, “okay now is Denbeigh,” she took our hands in hers, “fingers crossed it’s one of us.”

Her hand palms were sweaty, she must really want this.

“From Denbeigh … Octavia Hayes.”

We were all silent for a minute. Then Lo started screaming, Gina joining her. “Oh my GOODNESS!”

“Tavi! You’re going to the palace! You’re going to meet the prince!”

“Yeah,” I was absolutely lost for words. Meeting the prince hadn’t been the first thing that came to my mind, hell it hadn’t even been the second or third thing.

The first thing I thought was: I’m one step closer to getting my dad out of prison. I will be in that freaking library day and night looking for the book that is going to help me. There must be something somewhere about a second opinion on a court order, or something else to annul the judge’s decision.

“Ohhh, I’m sooo jealous of you right now. You are going to meet the prince! And there’s a chance he will fall in love with you and you’ll have beautiful babies.” Gina pulled on one of my curls, it bounced up and down as she let go of it.

“Uhm, I think that particular chance can be redeemed to zero.” I bit my lip, not even in my biggest dreams had I imagined my name would be drawn.

“Tavi, listen. I know you only applied for those laws books, but you need to be friendly to the prince if you want to stay,” Lo insisted, “or else you will be eliminated.”

“And I have to interact with him?”

“There are girls who would kill for a chance of even being in one room with him,” Gina took over, she sounded very serious suddenly. “You’ll meet him that’s for sure, and if you actually try you might make it far enough to earn a date. Just at least try to be nice, okay?”

“Just don’t insult him,” Lo added, “or his family, or the country. Okay, don’t insult anyone.”

The way my best friends were looking at me brought me right back to the good old school days. That was exactly the way teachers had looked whenever I had done something naughty. Which had basically been at least once every day.

“Do you promise?” Lo asked when I didn’t respond.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll try not to insult anyone.” I sighed, this is going to be so much harder than I thought.

All of a sudden a lot robot-like voice yelled “BREAKING NEWS”.

It just scared the living shit out of me. We turned as one towards the laptop again.

On the screen was that fake blond woman in her tracksuit again.

“Prince Arin just completed the draw for his very own Selection. Some famous girls will be joining him at the palace. Our very own province will be represented by Octavia Hayes. You might have heard of her, given that she is some meekly Five. But her father’s name will ring a bell. Octavia’s father is Caspar H., a dangerous convict in prison for murdering Winnipeg’s beloved mayor Wilfred Wallis. He might have very well passed the criminal gene onto his daughter. Not only is she definitely not a good representative for Denbeigh, but the lives of the royal family might all be in danger.”

“Damn it!” Stupid news anchor. Why couldn’t they just stay out of my family’s business. Now the entire country will be aware of this. My dad’s arrest did make the headlines of some newspapers when all that had gone down. But that had been 6 years ago and I had hoped no one would remember that.

But now it was out in the open. Again.

It didn’t even matter that my dad was innocent. He had already been suffering for it by being locked up far away from our family.

“Tavi,” Lo put her arms around me, “that’s just bullshit, no such thing as a criminal gene exists.”

Gina joined our hug, “you can’t take anyone seriously who wears a tracksuit on live TV.”

*** Couple of days later ***

Dear dad,

My name got drawn for the Selection, I’m going to the palace and meet the prince. Some palace person is coming to pick me up anytime now so I can’t write a lot. Plus, if the mail has already arrived then you will have to wait another month before you get this anyway.

I asked Daniel if he could start writing a monthly letter as well, maybe he can even add a little picture of Melody so you can see her for the first time. He said he will take care of mom, Aria and Arlan as well. Molly will just cook dinner for more people, which she doesn’t really mind doing. At least that’s what she said.

Anyhow I will write to you from the palace.

Lots of love, 

Octavia

Zohl wzw, R’n hxzivw. Tlrmt gl gsv kzozxv, z dslov mvd vmerilmnvmg dsviv R wlm’g pmld zmblmv. Ovzermt nln, vhkvxrzoob mld gszg rg urmzoob hvvnh orpv hsv’h gibrmt gl orev ztzrm. Zmw dszg droo gsv xlfmgib gsrmp lu nv. Droo R gfim rmgl zm lfgxzhg? Zxxliwrmt gl DGE R’n tlrmt gl hozftsgvi veviblmv rm gsv kzozxv, yvxzfhv lu blfi ‘xirnrmzo tvmvh’. Yfg gsv kvlkov dsl olev blf droo zodzbh yvorvev blfi rmmlxvmxv, vevm ru gsv dslov xlfmgib hvvnh gl gsrmp lgsvidrhv. Qfhg pmld gszg dv nrhh blf wvziob. Zmw R droo gib vevibgsrmt R xzm gl tvg blf ivovzhvw. Qfhgrxv zodzbh kivezroh.

*** At the airport ***

The car journey all the way from Winnipeg to somewhere in Sota had lasted for ages. Even though I hadn’t really been aware of that, since I fell asleep as soon as they closed the doors behind me.  

A frustrated voice had woken me up, “can you please stop drooling all over the leather upholstery?”

My eyes flew open, saliva was indeed smeared on the seat. I quickly wiped it off my face, where it had been present as well. “Sorry,” I mumbled, I then realized we had arrived at the airport, I quickly opened the car door and jumped out.

What I immediately noticed was the rain puddle I had landed in. My shoes and socks were soaking wet. Great.

“Maybe you should try to act more lady-like?” the driver said with a very disapproving tone, looking me up and down. He had already taken my guitar case out of the car and was about to put it right onto the wet street. I quickly grabbed the case out of his hands, clutching it close to my body.

The driver sighed, “there’s the entrance to the airport. Inside it will be clear which directions to follow.”

I made my way towards the entrance he had pointed at when I heard him mumble to himself, “why did I had to drive a barbarian?”

As I turned around, the car’s engine had been running again. I wasn’t sure if he could see me, nor I did I really care. I showed my middle finger to the car anyway. Asshole.

Never had I seen an airport before. It was freaking massive, people walking in all possible directions. Some carrying luggage with them, others with balloons that read “we missed you” or “welcome home”.

One day, my fam and I will be waiting at the airport, carrying one of those dumb balloons around. Coming to pick up dad.

I snapped out of my daydream by someone tapping me on my shoulder. “Miss Hayes, please come with me.”

Nodding, I followed the person not really having another choice since I had no clue which way I had to go. Maybe this is some insane kidnapper.

My heartbeat increased; did I just make a stupid mistake?

“Only one girl has arrived so far. You are to wait for the others before you can board the plane.”

Okay, no insane kidnapper then.

Unless.

This is a complete setup created by his crazy brain.

Panic filled my body, damnit how will I get out of this situation.

Okay, if I just push the person onto the floor, that will give me a chance to run for my life.

One. 

Two.

Three.

I took a deep breath in, ready to make the push. But at the last minute the person side stepped which caused me to lose my balance. He looked at me in a very funny way, “please take a seat, the flight attendant will come get you in a few minutes.”

My cheeks turned very very warm, the redness might very well have equalled the red colour of a traffic light.

Trying to calm myself down, I slumped down into a chair. Yikes, only now became I aware of it again. My socks were still wet and cold. Sigh.

After taking a few deep breaths in and out, I noticed the other girl.

“Oh hey, you’re also a Selected?” I started, realizing it wouldn’t be a bad thing to talk to someone.

She turned towards me, “I am Brooke Lynn Sanders, but just call me Brooke please!”

Not knowing what else to do, I waved at her a little awkwardly. “hi Brooke, nice to meet you. My name is Octavia, but please call me Tavi.”

“Nice to meet you Octavia. Did you have a good journey?” I could already tell she did have the lady-like manners I had been lacking.

Oh god, I couldn’t possibly tell her about the drooling situation, so I decided to stick to a vague answer. “Yeah, it was alright thanks. What about your own journey? Which province are you from?”

“My send off from Dakota was a bit bumpy but I am here now. I wish they would have let me take the train though...”

Another girl arrived, also looking very much like someone the prince could end up with. Compared to these two, I was more of a rag doll.

Pushing my feelings behind that wall deep inside me, I waved her over, “oh yeah hi, please join us.”

We chatted some more for a bit, until Haven arrived.

The way she was walking, the only person I had seen walking like that was Long-Beard Logan, the homeless guy who could often be found near New Wave Records. He walked the same way, but he had one wooden leg.

Then Haven opened her mouth, a weird voice coming out, “hi.”

I noticed Brooke shared my confusion, “uhm hello?”

She took out her phone and typed something, it read ‘I’m Haven’.

My confusion hadn’t ebbed away, “are you alright?”

She typed some more, ‘yup:)) just got a bad cold! what are your names?’.

As a response to that we all introduced ourselves again. These girls didn’t seem to be that bad, hopefully the other Selected at the palace were the same. But the chance of that being true was small. Also, why did I care what the other girls were like? I wasn’t there to make friends, with them or with the prince. I had applied for the thing I needed most. Access to the royal library.

“Have you guys ever been on a plane before? This is all very new to me.” I admitted, trying to ease the nerves that had been building up inside me ever since my name had been picked in that draw.

Brooke had a very strong opinion on planes. Private planes more specifically.

Which came as a shock to me. The private plane part. I didn’t know what I was thinking but taking a private plane had never crossed my mind.

In the meantime, Brooke started talking about the CO2 emissions.

“How else would we get to the palace without having an endless journey? It’s not like there’s a teleportation device, right?” I said a little more vicious than I intended. The higher castes used planes all the time, if anyone had a cause in the destruction of our planet it was definitely them.

Brooke definitely had thought of it all, as she mentioned the outstanding quality of the Illéan train system. Clara chimed in to agree with her.

I decided to not mention my exact thoughts about the higher castes, given the fact that I had promised my friends back home not to insult anyone. So I just nodded my head, “yeah okay I understand your point.”

We were able to board the plane shortly after that. Brooke sat down in a window-seat and Clara nestled herself in the seat next to Brooke’s.

I took a chair on the opposite side of the plane, trying to create some sort of privacy for myself without being rude.

Haven sat down in the seat next to me and smiled at me.

The entry door closed; I could no longer contain my nerves. “Here we go I guess.” I tried to calm my breathing, but it didn’t really help. I tried to think of my family back home in Denbeigh, didn’t help either. I heard my dad’s voice in my head, it was like he was actually talking to me, “You are a strong girl, the flight will be over before you know it. Octavia, you can do this.”

A weird sound whisked my dad’s voice away, I looked over towards the source of the sound. It was Brooke choking on her drink. “Please don’t die,” I said. Her dying here would be a shitty start to this whole adventure. Besides, Brooke actually seemed like a nice person.

She coughed, “I am – I am trying.”

Haven mentioned her sibling, how they were close and stuff. She then asked if we had any siblings ourselves.

This provided me with the perfect distraction. I turned towards her, “yeah, I have three siblings. One older brother, a younger sister and a younger brother as well.”

Normally I would never share such personal information with someone I had just met but talking about them was the distraction I so desperately needed from this whole plane situation.

The others talked some more, but I just realized the one and only thing that would get me through this.

Music.

“If you guys don’t mind, I’m gonna listen to some music.” I said as I took my earphones out of my bag. “Haven would you like to join?” I asked her politely, given that she was sitting right next to me and it would have been quite rude otherwise.

She smiled at me and nodded, so I handed her one of the earphones. “I do have a very mixed taste in music so you’re in for a treat.” Maybe I could even make her listen to our own music, you know casually extending Five Whispers’ audience.

As a reply, Haven winked at me, “I love a girl with mixed music taste.”

Oh who would have thought, I had something in common with another Selected. I too liked people with a diverse music preference, since music says so much about a person. The quote ‘You are what you listen to’ was on one of the walls of New Wave Records music store. It was also my own personal life motto.

Clara and Brooke continued chatting, but I didn’t listen anymore. The music had taken a hold on me and it had only released me from its grip when the plane hit the ground in Angeles.

[meandmyechoes]

Ahsoka/Feral development bible. (Disclaimer: IT'S CRACK)

Their ship name is Fireworks. Because it's a one time, brilliant passion, but it wouldn't last. Violence is a gentle expression. It's also where they meet.

Ahsoka is Ojouuchan change. my. mind.

Her cat hates him

Feral drinks Respect Women™ Juice

I may write that TCW trio vs Sith Trio matsuri rivalry just to flesh out

Like, this is basically a high-school au

In a completely unorigianl way, Feral finally saved up money/get bullied enough to take up self-defense classes and Ahsoka is the sensei's DAUGHTER that cliche trope and proceed to captivate him in a new angle he's never seen before (She craves violence) [still dancing on this origin story/second meeting]

Ahsoka likes him because he builds up his confidence little by little around her, and she learns a little more about him every day, but mostly because he has that spark of courage (and a loyal brother)

For Feral is love at first sight (because I too, would propse to Ahsoka in a kimono on sight), but he couldn't quite word his feelings. So Ahsoka would be taking the initiative to tease him playfully (to befriend that lonely, hard-working boy at first). But once Feral is sure of something, he is unstoppably fiery. His favourite trait of Ahsoka is her laughter. He would so make her little crafts and trinkets from scrap metal on his 11 part-time jobs, hesistant and only flattered when Ahsoka likes it all the same.

I just… so fucking soft?? It's a puppy love and a summer daydream.

Them sparring 👀👀👀 pencak silat

Omg their first date = beat the shit out of each other… that's a fucking good idea… that i give myself maybe one more day to come up…

Hmmm I should shove that first kiss in the same fic just to cut some work but i think it'd happen a little later after several more dates.

Meeting extended family… yes… delicious comedy

The idea of Ahsoka pretending to be civil in front of Maul for Feral's sake while Savage looks left and right like he hates the Jedi too but also want Feral to be happy and Murder NOT happen at the dinner table, sends

The Jedi absolutely despises the Sith clan and by extension thinks little of this weird Nightbrother trio on the edge of town. Mostly they just ignore them if Maul stay out of trouble. They have all the wrong assumptions about Feral, who is patient to answer their interrogation enquiries and masking panic at his best for Ahsoka's sake. But don't you talk shit about 90% of his clan on the narrow and straight

I just realize it's practically Romeo and Juliet too?? Not where I was going but oh god. (of all things my brain said Anakin vs. Savage brawl first)

I used to think they're like, 20 and 18 here. (now I need them to celebrate a sweet birthday!) They could be older but age isn't really relevant in this case.

Their break-up in the (fake) rain. The last make-up kiss before they go fight (each other) in the War™ BIG KRIFFING YES

That cliched open ending with them rekindling as military cadets… 😏

※※※※※※※※※※

Season Part. 2.

I think I definitely model their relationship after somebody i couldn't pinpoint, but from muliple pairs and characters, when they are in different situations. For example, t r a i n i n g is synonymous to Yumi and Ulrich for me, so yeah, I be copying the entire scene for them.

I did went back to watch Feral's one episode and he's so off from fanon it's bewildering. He had six lines. Well, he had Finn Abernathy vibes in this. I wrote him to be home-loving, incredibly loyal and determined. (maybe the last two traits are where they coincide, hmmm) His flaw would be his reservation. He is not shy by nature (lol supported by canon dialogue) but semi-aware of his fragility from trusting too easily. You just don't wanna open up after you've been through too much. Ah yes, so everything will be too late except that time he took the leap. He probably weren't a favourite child being the shortest and weakest compared to his big bros. He is not as gifted as them but he can certainly fight when he puts his heart in it. He just doesn't believe in casual violence as a convenience.

Ahsoka is the wildcard here because how do I juggle Ojouuchan and her canon snippyness? For one thing she'd be a full fledge Jedi Knight here—

…and that's about the only thing I kept from canon lmao.

In this au, the Jedi could be a little lax with dating and stuff but i don't think they're that strict and swift to shut down in canon as well. Most likely due to its short-livedness and multiple people covering for her the high council won't find out haha.

I think they both know it wouldn't be a long-term thing (when you're young three months sounds an incredulously long time already), sometimes you just need to make a stupid decision and run with it. So it wouldn't really be an issue, Ahsoka leaving the Order and all. They both know they just weren't this exclusive* thing and they will both choose their clan/faith/family over each other. (Re: Dark Disciple)

I avoided so far but they have to get into arguments. Not the taylor brb crying kind… (because they ARE adults), but the 'well if you don't trust me maybe you should send me back kind' haha. Well I don't know what adult arguments look like but they be having so many little brawls and make up immediately the next day? i seriously don't know.

They shared this fundamental patriotism but to different allegiance. They are both determined and comapssionate, but in different ways. And it is this diverged p.o.v. that stem from a mutual care that sparks their arguments. I don't have concrete debates yet but as a healthy story little bits of disagreement need to be sprinkled before the catalyst of war finally drives them apart.

Some songs:

Uchiage Hanabi duh.

Long Live how could i write romance without taylor swift?

Mine too, maybe, and I do think of Wildest Dreams.

※※※※※※※※※※

Part 3.

This is really what the original Part 2 is. The reunion. I want to write the angsty part of it, but i kind of already did with the dialogues… idk there are flashes of frames in me head but to novelize it ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) i'm lazy and i don't want to do the work ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

essentially this is a forever clone wars au, or the war would have to drag on longer than three years at least. Palpatine won but Order 66 happened on a much smaller scale? or just Sith!soka? ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯

Damn I will jump at any chance to write Sithsoka…

But really both Rebel!Feral and Sith!Feral has potential. On one hand, I could give him what he always pursued, in a convoluted way, that he found a new home, just in time for it to be taken away, so he must continue fighting. On the other hand, Sith!Feral finally accomplished what was expected for him, claimed his "bloodline" and he can't deny the creeping pride it has to fully embrace his heritage. He would like to be more powerful to protect, but there's always a more efficient method than mass killings. He's more interested in building a Sith Empire…

[alphawave-writes]

Prophets and Messengers final chapter: Beyond Touch

Synopsis: Now immortal, Sigma and Harold share a tender moment as they plan the next stage of their lives together.

Read it here on or AO3. You guys can also find me on twitter @alphawave13.

If you like my writing, please do support me by buying me a ko-fi, becoming a patron on Patreon or requesting a fanfic commission from me. Especially with COVID, any little bit helps me out a lot.

-

Sigma awoke in a cart of all things, travelling along an abandoned road. There was patches of green amidst the drab yellow sand, the sun setting over the horizon. What looked to be a winding river of crystal blue rolled over the flatlands. He glanced down and noticed that his clothes had been changed, replaced with something more similar to what the Oasis locals wore. His hands were bandaged and bruised, the golden jewelry of the priests now adorning his fingers but otherwise he was fine. A donkey was pulling the cart slowly, led forward by a man in familiar clothes.

Sigma shifted, catching the man's attention. They turned around and smiled warmly. Sigma could not see their face clearly, but he didn't need to. From the warmth that enveloped his core at the sight of this man, he already knew exactly who it was.

"Welcome back, Siebren," Harold said softly.

Sigma sat up slowly, only to smack his elbow into something. There were a lot of jars in the cart he was in, as well as a few boxes with rattling coins, as well as some baggae filled with extra clothes. They all clinked around within the cart, making their contents known to anyone who dared be near them. "How did we not get attacked by bandits?" Sigma's eyes wandered the horizon. "Where are we?"

"I pulled a few favours from your guards to sneak us out, and I paid them for their trouble. As for where we are, well…I'm not so sure about that." Harold glanced at the sunset. "We're heading East though. Away from Oasis."

"So this is it then. No turning back," Sigma said. He felt for the spirits' presence and was relieved to find that they had settled down somewhat, their strength renewed. Sigma focused his power and was surprised to feel the presence of something else inside of him. A new well of energy, vast and limitless and brilliant and destructive like the sun. He'd felt this energy before, every time his skin ever made contact with Harold.

He turned to Harold, eyes wide and mouth agape. Harold let go of the reins to the donkey and reached out for Sigma's hand. Their energies swirled around each other before combining together. It was one and the same. This power was one and the same.

"You're immortal now," Harold said. "Just like me."

"Immortal?" Sigma whispered.

"That was the only way I could save you. I saw your lifestream, and it was broken to pieces. If I didn't do it, then you'd be dead. I couldn't save you either way, I had to, I…" Harold took a shuddery breath in and out. "I'm sorry. I panicked, and I didn't want to let you go, and now you're cursed like me."

Sigma stared deeply into Harold's eyes. They appeared almost golden in the dying sunlight. "You didn't want to let me go?"

"I didn't say I love you because it was the heat of the moment," Harold chuckled bashfully. "Or perhaps you didn't understand me then. Would it make more sense if I said ik hou van jou?"

Sigma's cheeks went crimson. "Y-you didn't…"

"I never did tell you I used to live in the Lowlands myself for a bit." Sigma could hear Harold's smirk even if he couldn't see it all that well. "I might have picked up the local language during my stay."

Sigma turned his head away. "So ever since the night of the full moon, you…"

"I know you love me, Siebren. For a long while now," Harold said. "And if we're being honest, I've probably loved you for even longer than that."

Sigma went silent for a few moments, taking in the sunset, the slight breeze, the soft bushes and the flowing river and the skittering animals. He must have passed through this place at least once. He didn't just stumble into Oasis with no memory, he was guided there by maps and equations, back when he was still blessed with the sense of sight. But did his younger self, with crystal clear vision and a sharp mind, truly see this sprawling, beautiful landscape? Did he appreciate the chaotic beauty of nature? Did he see the magic in life? Of course he didn't. The grass was greener on the other side. Only when he lost his vision could he truly see the world for its tragic beauty.

The cart was still steadily moving, the donkey not slowing one bit. Sigma’s eyesight was still horrendous, but he saw the teared edges of Harold's clothes, the purple knuckles and scratched red arms, and the lethargy in Harold's movements. It must not have been an easy feat to sneak out of Oasis. Talon had its clutches on the city, and they would not rest until they had the ultimate power of limitless life. Harold would have fought, but the idea of Harold fighting his battles was not a pleasant one. He wanted to protect, not be that had to be protected. But then again he could not see this coming. He suspected not even the spirits did.

Sigma floated up and out of the cart, moving side by side with Harold. He turned to Harold and nodded his head sharply. Harold let out a quiet sigh as he rested his head on Sigma's shoulder. In turn, Sigma wrapped his arm around Harold's waist and floated him up, letting both their feet hover just above the ground. A small comfort, but it might be enough.

"So what do we do now? Now that we're immortal, I mean," Sigma said.

"I don't know," Harold admitted. "You?"

"I'm…I'm not sure. I don't know what is out there anymore. There are humans and animals, but also other beings in a realm just beyond our reach." He reached his hand out to the sky. "They're watching us, even now. Waiting to make their move, for good or evil or none of the above. Now that I've been uprooted from my home, I might never know who or what they are. My greatest experiment might never be solved."

"Again, I'm sorry," Harold frowned.

"Don't be," Sigma said, letting his face soften. "You saved my life."

Harold rubbed the back of his head bashfully, the smallest of smiles gracing his lips. "I didn't give you the elixir just because I've got feelings for you. I've seen the way you pour yourself into research, the joy it brings you, the structure it provides. Given the gift of infinite life, you'd make great things, I'm sure of it." Harold's smile faded. "If I'm lucky, I might be able to tag along for the ride. Make my mark on the world—a good one, that is. So far all I've done is bring disaster to everybody around me."

"You don’t bring disaster," Sigma said.

"Then what about this situation? We won't be able to know peace. We each have our own ghosts chasing us. We can't die naturally, but that doesn't mean we can't be killed. Soon as our enemies find this out, they will not rest." Quieter, Harold said, "I don't want you to fight my battles, Siebren. Just as I'm sure you don't want me to fight yours."

Sigma turned his head away, frowning deeply. That was the big thing still. They may both be immortal, but they may not necessarily be immortal together. Even bound together like this, they could still drift apart. Their demons were still chasing them, and they'll follow them both to the ends of the Earth, possibly for all eternity.

"You saved my life," Sigma repeated slowly.

"You said that already," Harold remarked.

"Because you saved my life more than once," Sigma replied. "I've done horrible things, Harold. Unspeakable monstrosities commanded upon me by both Talon and the spirits. They feed on my weakness, both of them, like leeches to the jugular artery, and I barely escaped with my life. I could've squatted at any abandoned building, but I chose the temple because it was far away from everybody. Nobody would judge me for the monster I was. Nobody would ever be harmed by me. When rumours of the Oracle emerged, I had enough money to hire some guards, but most obey me because they fear what I can do. You were the only one to see me as a man."

"Siebren," Harold whispered.

"I don't know what you see in me, I don’t. You see me as something capable of so much good, even though I’m not. You believe that I am special, and that I am worth loving." Siebren frowned. "Maybe if I hear it enough, I’ll believe it myself. Even without any evidence.”

Harold smiled softly. “This is what I mean.”

Sigma tilted his head. “About what?”

“About loving you for all eternity.” The strings reappeared between their chests, and Harold plucked one gently. A wave of warmth caressed Sigma from the inside out. “You really are my soul mate.”

Sigma felt for one of the strings and stroked it. Heat collected near his lips. From the way Harold's eyelids fluttered, the same occurred on his lips. “And you are mine,” he said.

“Is that a promise?” Harold whispered, eagerness and trepidation and hesitation staining his voice.

Sigma smiled shyly. “Only if you will let me.”

Harold giggled, his hand rising up to hide his gorgeous smile and his crimson cheeks. “I’m holding you onto that promise. I don’t wanna let you go that quick.”

Sigma gently guided Harold's hand away from his face, pulling it down so they could entwine their fingers together. “I think you’ll find I’m very hard to get rid of once I’m attached to someone.”

“Good,” Harold squeezed back. “So am I.”

They took turns walking the donkey and the cart, conserving their strength for a journey of untold length. A small town was just in the distance, with light and food and drink, and most important of all, an inn they could shelter in. As they entered the inn, Sigma noted the scent of cooked meats and the clink of jugs of warm beer. The local drunks were lounging in a corner while a couple of men smoked from an Argilah. Between the two of them, they had plenty of coins, not that it would do much for them once they passed the border. They might as well be frivolous tonight. This might possibly be their last night in relative comfort, at least for a while.

They ordered the best food and drank the local beer, chatting freely about anything and everything that came to their mind in a quiet corner of the inn. It only seemed right that Sigma opened up about everything. It was the least he could do, to repay for all the times Harold had opened his mind up for Sigma's probing. The very first thing that they both learned was that Sigma was a lightweight and Harold evidently was not. Sigma cradled his first and only beer, not even a quarter empty, while Harold had already finished half of his second. For every story that Harold weaved with his words, Sigma did his best to reciprocate with a story of his own. When Harold talked about his studies, so too did Sigma. When Harold spoke about his travels, Sigma recounted the perilous journey he took to get to Oasis from the Lowlands, and his inability to pick up the local accent. When Harold said he first fell in love with Sigma less than a week after meeting him, Sigma shyly admitted that he loved him since the incident at the springs, but only acknowledged it after that moment they shared under the full moon.

They laughed and smiled, their worries and fears gone for this fragile moment of peace they shared together. Maybe the beer had intoxicated him and clouded his mind, or maybe he was drunk off Harold’s presence, but Sigma felt bold as he conspired ways to touch Harold. A hand on a shoulder. A thumb to wipe away the beer foam from plump, kissable lips. A teasing little nudge with his foot to Harold’s knee.

Harold chuckled coyly as Sigma's toes rested on his leg. “Bit forward, aren’t you?”

Sigma smirked as he pulled his toes up, trailing over Harold’s inner thigh. “By my calculations, if I stimulate this erogenous zone for approximately two minutes more, our trajectory will be towards the newest bedroom.”

Harold spluttered with a laugh. “OK, first of all, that’s a horrible pick-up line.”

“I am assuming there’s a ‘second of all’,” Sigma raised his eyebrows

“Second of all,” Harold grabbed Sigma’s foot under the table, massaging the sole lightly, “you are a jerk and you’ve severely underestimated how much I want to be alone with you.”

“We were alone on the cart for hours today. Unless you're worried the donkey was going to blab to its friends,” Sigma smirked.

Harold slapped him lightly on the arm. “Get a room already.”

“Alright, alright,” Sigma laughed.

The process of getting a room was rather simple. They paid the money for a single room and were given a sign to hang, a number that matched the number of their door. The bed was decent, and the view outside their room wasn't spectacular, but it was theirs for this brief night, and that was all they needed. They dropped their belongings carelessly on the floor and then collapsed onto the bed side by side. For a few minutes Sigma stared at the empty ceiling, trying and failing to glimpse into the future. The spirits were displeased with him, but even if they weren't, they couldn't see what his future held anyway. He was unbound from time, an array of infinite possibilities at his fingertips, extending far beyond like branches from a tree. And his tree would continue to grow for as long as he still lived.

He could ponder more on this question, but for once he didn’t want to think. He found Harold’s hand beside him and squeezed. Not a moment later, Harold shifted so he was lying on top of Sigma, placing a small kiss to his lips. This simple kiss escalated to something more as their mouths slid open and their tongues darted out, tasting the cooked meats from each other's mouths. Sigma gave, and Harold took, letting himself get washed away from this simple, worldly pleasure as Harold stole his breath away. By the time they finally separated, only minutes had passed, and yet it felt like an eternity. What Sigma wouldn't give to spend an eternity touching and kissing Harold.

Sigma ran his thumb over Harold's bruised lips, staring up at the most beautiful man in the world. A smile peeked out, and then Harold parted his lips slightly and took Sigma's thumb in, sucking lightly.

“Harold…” Sigma whispered.

The thumb slid out from Harold's mouth with a pop. “How far do you want to take this tonight? I’m up for anything and everything, if you’ll let me. We could sleep, we could kiss until morning light, or…” he leaned forward and kissed Sigma's neck, “we could do something more daring.”

“We'll do it all,” Sigma laughed. "One step at a time."

“Then what do you want to do first?” Harold asked.

“Kiss me,” Sigma sighed. "Please."

Harold grinned. “My pleasure.”

He took Sigma’s face in his hands, cradling his jaw tenderly before kissing him with unspeakable passion. First with their lips, and then with their tongues, swirling and exploring, drawing out as many groans and sighs as possible. Sigma leaned forward and slid his lips to Harold's jaw, then the shell of his ear, then the soft junction between Harold's neck and shoulder. He bit lightly until the skin was tinted pink, and Harold gasped lewdly. Sigma took mental notes of the places he kissed that drew the most vocal reaction from Harold, certain in the fact that he will need to use this in the very near future. Whatever the future held, he was going to make sure this was not their last time together in bed.

Sigma moved to take the belt off Harold’s robes, pausing for a sign that this was not wanted or that he was moving too fast. But Harold sighed happily, lifting his arms up high. With Sigma’s strong hands, he delicately pulled the robes off and away, exposing Harold’s naked body.

His lips trailed Harold’s collarbone reverently, sucking on the soft flesh lightly. “You’re so handsome,” Sigma hummed.

“You can’t see me,” Harold pointed out.

“Doesn’t that make it more special? That a blind man like me knows you’re handsome?”

Harold giggled bashfully. “Perhaps.” His fingers found the edge of Sigma’s own robes and pulled them up and over his head. Sigma gasped lightly, making Harold giggle again. “But I’m not the only gorgeous one here. I’ve got you, don’t I? And I get to have you all for myself.”

Harold’s lithe fingers felt his soft pecs, his toned stomach, traveling lower at a snail pace. Heat blossomed from his touch, making Sigma’s breathing quicken. Harold leaned forward for another greedy kiss with his greedy tongue while his hand brushed over the thick bush of hair near his groin, trailing down to the base of his throbbing cock. Sigma was quick to surrender as the now-familiar wave of love and lust overwhelmed his senses, moaning to the ceiling.

Harold let his other hand hover in the air as the strings between their bodies re-emerged. He began to tug on them lightly but Sigma enclosed his hand around Harold’s wrist, dispelling the spell.

“Siebren?” He whispered.

“No magic,” he said, just as quiet. “No spirits, no magic, and no strings of fate. Just you and me.”

Harold nodded slowly, and then he leaned backward for a second to take his glasses off. When he couldn’t find a place to deposit them, he slid them into Sigma’s face, earning a quiet chuckle from his lips. The glasses, as Sigma suspected, did nothing to help his eyesight. Sigma wrinkled his nose, the glasses tilting with his movement, earning another laugh.

“You done?” Sigma smiled.

“Any more requests before I not-so-magically find the lubricant, oh great Oracle?” Harold said in an exaggerated voice.

“Actually, there is…one thing,” Sigma glanced away. It was just a thought but…no, it might not work. It’s been too long. Why ruin what might be their last comfortable night like this with such an experiment?

“Hmm?”

“I was wondering if I could, um, be on the receiving end tonight.” He cleared his throat loudly. "Only if you'd want to, that is."

“O-oh. I guess that explains why you didn’t eat much dinner.” Harold frowned microscopically. “That takes something out of the books.”

“What is it?”

Harold opened his mouth, paused, then headed out of bed to a small trunk. Within it he got what appeared to be the jar of lube and something else that Sigma couldn’t describe. It looked long and thin and pale as the snow. What it was, however, Sigma could not tell.

By the time he returned to bed, Harold’s blush seemed to have multiplied. In his hands were the jar and the mysterious object. Noticing Sigma's curious gaze, he held the object close so Sigma could see.

Sigma's cheeks crimsoned. “R-rope, Harold?”

“Look, I understand if you don’t want to get tied up. I was going to ask if you could tie me up or something, but if you want to bottom for once, I understand this might be too much. We can do it some other time."

Before Harold might say more, Sigma cupped Harold’s face, interrupting him. “Harold, whatever you want to do, I’ll do it. I love you.” Softer, he added, “I trust you.”

“G-good,” Harold breathed. Despite his nervousness, there was no denying the excitement in his voice. He took his glasses off Sigma's face and slid them to the edge of the bed. “R-right. Well. I best get you prepared, shouldn't I? Sit up and turn around.”

Sigma did as Harold instructed. His wrists were pulled behind his back, the rope gliding over his skin. A well of fear and anticipation filled his chest. He’d never done this. Not the rope, not the bottoming, not running away to start a new life, not immortality. They were scary but they were also new, and they were luxuries he couldn’t afford to waste. If he shied away from scary, new things, he'd never be here in Harold's arms, with infinite power and life in his bloodstream. And after all, wasn't that the purpose of experimentation, to learn from these scary, new things? He could accept it easily enough if he just thought about it as an experiment.

Harold’s deft touch assuaged some of his fears, working steadily as he guided the rope over his arms and wrist. His fingers would often pause to rake down Sigma’s backside or reach lower to squeeze his ass, making Sigma shiver in delight. When Harold was done, he gently guided Sigma down onto the bed, his chest flat on the mattress and his ass held high. Sigma glanced over his shoulder to find Harold staring at the body, seemingly in a trance.

Sigma smiled shyly. "Earth to Harold."

"S-sorry, it's just...wow." Harold chuckled nervously. "I can't believe my luck that I have you like this. Can't believe I have you for all eternity."

"I'm not going to wait all eternity," Sigma said. "Could you please get on with it?"

"You're so impatient," Harold teased as he opened the jar and spread the glistening lube over his fingers. He leaned forward and pressed the tip of a finger into Sigma slowly. In an instant a cold shock zapped both Sigma's mind and body, making him shiver again. When Sigma recovered slightly, Harold began to slide his finger in and out, coating Sigma's ass with the slippery, wet lube.

"Harold…" Sigma gasped.

"I'll be slow," Harold said, voice laced with lust. "I want you to feel good."

"D-don't just say things like that," Sigma blushed. "You don't need to be slow for me. I can handle it." Maybe, he added but didn't say.

Harold chuckled lightly as he pressed a second finger in, pumping at a slightly faster pace. Sigma tugged at his restraints, his eyelids fluttering. This tight wetness was such a new but wonderful sensation and it was making him dizzy in ecstasy. Harold's magic was coursing through his touch, shooting up into Sigma's brain. Sigma was sure this magical bond between him was making him far more sensitive than he should be, and yet he didn't want to stop. He wanted more, more. As long as it was Harold he'd always want more.

A third finger went in, pumping a little bit faster. Harold's fingers curled up inside Sigma, and he swore he could see the stars as those fingers brushed against his prostate. Harold's other hand trailed down his back, round his hips to enclose around Sigma's leaking cock. A shameful moan dripped from his lips as Sigma rolled his hips against the palm of Harold's hand, his desperation growing. It felt like he would tear apart if he wasn't given what he craved, if he wasn't filled, if he wasn't stroked. He knew Harold felt this desperation, but he never imagined it would be this intense. Now, right now, he needed to be defiled now.

Sigma glanced over his shoulder, his entire body tinted rouge. "Harold, please."

"Already? But I haven't even got the fourth finger in." Harold said in an amused tone.

"Harold," Sigma said in a more commanding voice.

"Alright, alright," Harold giggled lightly as he took another coating of lube and slowly stroked his cock, slicking it. Sigma could feel Harold shift forward, his wet cock rocking against the cleft of his ass. He inhaled deeply as Harold's love flooded his mind, spiking in waves with every roll of his tantalising hips. He rolled his hips back to the same rhythm as Harold's hips, hoping to coax Harold to hurry up, to give him what he craved.

Harold's hands gripped onto his hips tightly, steadying him. Sigma's balled fists shook against his restraints in anticipation. Harold drew his cock back, letting the tip kiss against Sigma’s entrance.

"Ready?" Harold asked softly.

"Yes, please," Sigma whimpered. "Please. I want you now. I need you."

Harold sharply inhaled, dug his fingers into the soft flesh of Sigma’s ass, and then slowly pushed his cock in.

Sigma bit on his lip to stifle his moan, but it didn't work, a soft "ah!" escaping his lips. It felt so glorious and wet and warm. Harold filled him up so perfectly, sliding in and out of him languidly but fluidly, slow but powerful, as if Harold already knew exactly how he wanted to be fucked. Harold was moaning too, whispering soft little things that made Sigma’s skin prickle with need and desire. From their shared minds, Sigma could feel Harold’s magic stroke the corners with the same speed and rhythm as his hips, as if Sigma was being pleasured both physically and mentally.

Sigma could barely handle it. Being pleasured in two different ways simultaneously, everything felt much more intense. Everything felt so much better. “Mmm, Harold…”

"You're handling it so good. And it's your first time too." His hot breath tickled Sigma's ear. "Maybe you can handle a little bit more." Harold snapped his hips, driving his cock harder into Sigma. He groaned lewdly, knowing all too well he was completely and utterly at Harold's mercy.

He wanted to ask how Harold knew this was his first time when suddenly Harold shifted the angle of his cock, making him moan deeply. Harold's magic had seeped into his mind, making his brain spark and flicker with the light of a thousand fireworks. Sigma's fists shook, trying and failing to break free from the restraints.

"Ah ah ah," Harold teased, not slowing his brutal pace down a single bit. "Not yet, Siebren. Not yet."

"Harold, please, ahhh." Without his sense of sight, his other senses were already heightened, but with the additional loss of his sense of touch, it felt like his remaining senses were working on overdrive. The scent of Harold's sweat was driving him wild. The sight of his cock gushing down onto the bed was undeniably arousing. The sound of Harold's strangled moans of pleasure as his hips crashed into Sigma's ass was the most beautiful chorus. His body was so sensitive to every little touch. If Harold just hit his prostate a bit more, if he just angled his cock at the perfect spot, Sigma might unravel completely.

"You're doing so well. You can take it so well," Harold whispered. "You let me know if it's too much."

"It's not enough, I need more. I want more. Please."

Sigma heard Harold chuckle lightly as he slid his cock out. Before Sigma could react, Harold's hands gripped tightly onto his waist, turning him around and sitting him on his lap. It took a second for Sigma to figure out what had happened. He rocked his hips slowly, sliding his ass against Harold's cock.

Harold placed a tender kiss to the lobe of Sigma's ear. "Is this good enough for you, Siebren?" He whispered.

Sigma leaned forward and kissed Harold eagerly as he felt Harold line himself up. He opened his eyes for a second and stared into the dark void that was Harold's eyes, waiting for the light, the signal, the go ahead. Harold's eyes shimmered for a second as he let out a quiet, pleading sigh. Sigma smiled softly as he descended, filling himself with Harold's cock once more. Harold wrapped his arms around Sigma's chest, moaning.

"Gosh, Siebren, yes. Yes, yes."

Sigma slid up and down at a brutal pace, giving the both of them little to no build-up. Not that either of them wanted or needed it. Harold's mind was screaming for more, and Sigma was sure his mind was screaming the same thing. He adjusted himself, angling his body until he felt the head of Harold's cock hit his prostate. It felt incredible, addictive, amazing. He had to hit it again and again and again, milking that indescribable pleasure for all it was worth. Just a bit more. He was so close, so madly close.

He angled his descent badly and Harold's cock slipped out of his ass. They groaned loudly.

"Siebren," Harold warned.

"S-sorry. I've never done this before," Sigma blushed.

"I know, but you don't need to rush it," Harold smiled softly. "I'm not going anywhere."

Sigma let out a quiet chuckle as he descended slowly until his ass was touching Harold's thighs. He bit down lightly on his lip, suppressing a moan. "We are not going anywhere."

Harold grinned brightly as his fingers traced the rope bindings. With a sharp tug, the rope came loose and Sigma's hands came free.

“H-Harold?”

“Bondage doesn’t suit you. I know you want to touch me.” Harold pressed a chaste kiss to Sigma’s cheek. “Let me be at your mercy this time.”

With his arms free he could do whatever he liked. Push Harold down and take him from the top, touch him in all his sensitive places until he came, torture him with his caresses. He could do almost anything and Harold would eagerly go along with Sigma's whims, but Sigma had a different plan in mind. He let his hands settle on either side of Harold's jaw, cupping it as though he was holding the world in his hands. In a sense, he was. Harold was his world, and he would always find his way to him. He closed his eyes, imagining Harold and all the things he had done for Sigma. There were almost too many to count. Harold had been so good to him since the very beginning.

Tears began to bead at Harold's eyes, which he hastily wiped away. "Y-you know I can read your thoughts, right?"

"I know," Sigma hummed. He kissed Harold on the lips, on the cheek. His hips slowly began to move again, almost lethargically, sensually, just enough to keep them on the edge.

Harold huffed. "You really are a jerk." But he was smiling while he said it, gripping Sigma's shoulders tightly when their hips pressed together. His thoughts were all focused on Sigma, and his love and adoration for him. From his intellect to his wisdom to his weird little jokes, Harold transmitted it all back to Sigma.

Sigma chuckled bashfully as he pressed another long kiss to Harold's open mouth. He imagined all the wonderful things about Harold—his beautiful voice, his constant optimism, and open mind— and watched as Harold’s face broke out into a breathtaking smile.

"I love you, Siebren," Harold said quietly.

"I love you too, Harold. Till the end of time,” Sigma whispered.

Harold kissed Sigma's lips softly. "Till the end of time."

The heat of their orgasm ebbed and flowed as Sigma slowly rode Harold. When it did came, it trickled up their bodies, less an explosion and more of a wave flooding over them. They kissed through this indescribable bliss, and when they were spent, they kissed some more, collapsing back into the bed in each other's arms. They did not speak, just let their slowing thoughts do the speaking for them, telling their life stories and their greatest triumphs and greatest fears for them. What their thoughts couldn't speak, their wandering fingers did, breathing new life into their every touch, expressing countless untold stories.

With a wave of his hands, Sigma summoned two cloths to wipe them both clean. Harold initially relaxed into it, until Sigma plucked the invisible strings between their obdies. Harold let out a surprised gasp as he felt something warm and wet and invisible enter his hole.

He looked down at Sigma, his expression quickly turning lustful. “I thought you said no magic tonight.”

“That was when I thought I only had the energy for one time.” Sigma tugged at the strings, making the invisible lubed-up finger press deeper into Harold. “I might have the energy reserve for at least one more go.”

Harold grinned mischievously. “At least?”

“I paid good money for this room, and I plan to maximize my usage of it.” He reversed their positions, pressing Harold back into the covers. He smiled indulgently. “I hypothesise that I can get you hard again without even touching you.”

“That’s some hypothesis,” Harold breathed. “Do you have the evidence to back up that theory?”

Sigma smirked. "I've got just the experiment in mind."

That night, Sigma fucked Harold himself, becoming one in both mind and body. By the end of it they were sweaty, sticky, and very much dehydrated, and absolutely and hopelessly in love with each other. When they both finally fell asleep in their arms, there was nothing they didn't know about the other. They slept peacefully that night, the marks on their palms glowing, perfectly content just to have each other, for now until eternity. They will find each other. That, they promised one another.

—

In the morning, they ate the breakfast the inn provided. They were downstairs, dressed in more unassuming clothes. Despite Sigma's best efforts, he couldn't stop grinning. It was a honeymoon phase of sorts, because they had already pledged to stay with each other for as long as time would let them, but that was all they had figured out in terms of their plans. Where they go from here, what they do, it was all up in the air. Anything and everything was possible. They had almost nothing to hold them back.

"We could head to the Safavid Empire in the West," Sigma suggested. "Ardabil is not unlike Oasis. Considering all the different dignitaries that visit there, we would not look out of place."

But Harold shook his head. "What business would we have in Ardabil? The Dutch East India Company own all the major trade routes so there's not too much business there. They're also not too keen on foreigners at the moment, especially English speaking foreigners."

"I know languages other than English and Dutch."

"So do I, but English seems to be the one we're best able to communicate in. I wouldn't take my chances," Harold said. "Why not Georgia instead?"

"Not Georgia. I'm not wanted in those lands."

"Why would they not want you there?" Harold asked.

"The Tobelsteins wielded far more power than I expected," Sigma frowned. "They messed with the fabric between reality and the spirit world far too much and I objected. I wouldn't be surprised if they end up floating into the heavens for their hubris like I did when I was a young, stupid fool."

"Don't put yourself down, Siebren. You shouldn't be ashamed of your powers.” Harold sighed. “So not Georgia then. Somewhere else. But where?"

As they began to rack their heads for ideas, two men stumbled through the entrance and plopped themselves down near the bar. One was tall and thin, with odd machinery on their right arm and leg. The other was fat and menacing, a mask hiding away their features. Their skin was pale as snow. They were definitely not from this land. The thin man ordered a beer, while the fat man ordered water.

If their appearance was hard to ignore, the thin man's outbursts were impossible.

"Can't believe th' Overwatch Guild is a thing. Always thought it was some legend going round those parts. Here, Roadie. You hear about it?" The man said in accented, but fluent English. It was definitely his first language.

"I was there with you," the man known as Roadie huffed.

"I mean, I know I'm supposed to be the comic relief, but how is a bloke to believe that an enchanted gorilla's its new leader? And don't get me started with the automaton, mate. In our lovely lil' collisseum we had a glorious champion, and then it just buggers off to the middle of nowhere, Gibraltar?"

"The queen wants us to get 'em back," Roadie gruffly replied.

"Assuming some mage's piloting it, and not like…I dunno, a hamster. That'd be a real kick , wouldn't it? A hamster rolling a ball automaton? But what kinda hamster would have that much smarts and magic? Not any that I know."

The man known as Roadie turned his head toward Harold and Sigma. Even behind his mask, they could feel his deathly glare. "Junkrat, shut up."

"Hey, don't interrupt me, I—oh." Roadie forced Junkrat to turn his head.

The two strangers stared at Sigma and Harold for several seconds, as if gauging them. Then, after a minute of uncomfortable silence, Junkrat rolled his eyes and nursed his beer.

"Don't bother, Roadie. They're just wizards." The man known as Junkrat spat out the word like it was poison.

"Least they don't have golems."

Sigma could've picked a fight, or perhaps even correct the two men on their technically incorrect use of the word 'wizard', but he didn't. Instead, he stared at Harold. They shared the same knowing look in their eyes, their faces lighting up. A path had been unveiled to them, glorious and brilliant and full of potential. It was almost as if it was fate guiding them along.

"Winston?" Sigma asked, and Harold nodded eagerly.

“And Hammond.” The descriptions matched. There were no other super-intelligent gorillas and hamsters that they knew of. It had to be them. Winston and Hammond had to be alive, and members of this Overwatch guild.

“You’re aware of what the Overwatch guild is?” Sigma asked, even though he knew Harold would know by now. They shared all their memories, their feelings, and their knowledge. They had nothing left to hide anymore.

“A ragtag bunch of adventurers bent on saving the world, one magical disaster at a time.” Harold stuck out his hand. “What do you say, Siebren? Ever wanted to join a guild?"

"I've joined enough guilds in my day, thank you very much." Sigma's lips curled up into a grin as he took Harold's hand. "Although I must say, I'm awfully curious as to how you've enchanted a gorilla and a hamster with the gift of intelligence. You know I’m up for another experiment.”

Harold grinned. "An adventure, you and me.”

"Oi, I heard that. You two!" The man known as Junkrat suddenly stood up, his expression becoming dangerous very quickly. He muttered something to Roadie, who took out an enchanted hook.

"But first, maybe we should get out of here?" Harold smiled nervously.

"We should probably do that," Sigma said.

With the wave of his hand, Sigma summoned the barrier as they raced out of the inn and ran toward the sunrise together, a world of untold possibility and struggle and wonder all ahead of them, just beyond their fingertips.

[whatisnoen]

AC180: connections

donnie dimaggio

Donnie and I go way back. I've known him since I was in high school... but I think what you need to know, even before that, is that neither one of us is a good person. Deep down, you don't want to know us. Donnie's helped me, and I help him. Our friendship runs deep. Back when I was in high school, we were at a pretty big party together and he hooked me up with some drugs... not just for me, but also for a certain girl that was there, too. I needed a favour. It wasn't that I couldn't get any girl I wanted that night - not at all. I just didn't want anyone to remember that night and start talking. So I drugged her. With his help. She had some memories, though.. and I wound up expelled from High School. But it didn't matter because those drugs made it impossible for her to definitively point a finger at me or him for anything specific. Just harassment and stalking. Whatever. She ended up killing herself, in case you're wondering. Something we're both grateful for. That's what she gets for trying to accuse us of anything.

eden stark

I'd never met Eden before Sloane, but I'd definitely heard of her. I may have even seen her work. So when I saw her face here, in this very town, I knew it would be a great opportunity for us to connect. Combining both our audiences is a genius idea, isn't it? I mean, who doesn't want a boost to their follower count? Plus, it was a great way for me to start to branch away from the teeny bopper audience that makes up most of my fans. Not that I hate them, but... this isn't Disney. I don't wanna be the male version of Hannah Montana forever. I don't watch kids tv, I wouldn't know what male equivalent is. Don't judge me. Anyways, as I was saying. It was a great opportunity, so I took it! But maybe I should've talked to her some more before having her on my show and making a tiktok... because now.. NOW.. I have to deal with her crazy obsessive stalker, Charlie. What the fuck? You think she could've warned me or something... I guess it's also my fault, too. I didn't take him seriously at first, when he sent me some aggressive messages. In fact, I kind of taunted him. That didn't go over so well and now the freak is harassing me and leaving me little 'gifts'. Yeah. Super fun. It's not cute. I told Eden about it and, well, yeah... she educated me on who he was. So that's where we're at. I love that for me.

juniper soleil

Juniper literally walked right up to my front door in Georgia and I let her in. Complete stranger, and I let her in. Most people might think that's crazy, but... I dunno. My parents were home and even though she was looking like a complete homeless person, I felt like I had to let her in. Especially since she was looking for 'The Astors'. I figured she had business with my mom, that she was here for community service or something. Not gonna lie, if it wasn't for that, I probably would've locked her up in the basement. But that's not important. Anyways... she actually came looking for us because she got a match to my ancestry page after I took a DNA test for a tiktok. My mom ran the ancestry page, and welp. Juniper came. And after talking with my mom, and my mom divulging all our fucking issues, Juniper had the brilliant idea to convince my mom to move me to Sloane. Literally what the fuck? Whatever. That's where I am now, and it seemed like a great idea at the time, but now that I'm here??? This place is crazy. I mean I guess I'm glad she's family, but... seriously? Is this some kind of joke? Sloane?

jade michaelson

After I was expelled from High School and the details of it covered up thanks to my parent's money, I was homeschooled. How lame, right? It's about as nerdy as nerdy gets. My parents were SO into it. Too into it. They were so into homeschooling that they made me go to fucking homeschooling conventions to socialise with other homeschooled kids. Insane, right?! Absolutely mental. And none of the kids there were anything close to what I wanted to associate with, but my social media influence made it impossible to avoid fans. Thankfully, my one saving grace in attending those dumb things came in the form of Jade Michaelson. She was kind of quiet and shy, but she was the closest thing to normal out of the sea of GPA obsessed mathletes. We kept in touch, of course,  even after homeschooling. I mean, how could we not? We bonded. And now, surprise surprise, we met again here, in Sloane. I'm not really sure what to expect, but at least she's here to show me the ropes.

mia mitchell

Oh, boy... Mia and I are a little complicated. I was introduced to Mia a little unconventially... but I don't wanna get ahead of myself. Let me start where I first met her: at Shears. It was literally my third day there. And she comes in and sees me, her face lights up. I immediately think she's a fan, but no. Oh, no... she starts on about how she thought I would recognise her. I'm thinking 'the fuck is this girl on?' I'd literally never seen her in my life. But you know, I think maybe when I was drunk at a party or something, but no. She says 'from the pictures I sent you'. By now my face is probably fifty shades of confused. I can tell that she can tell, too, because she immediately looks embarrassed. The poor girl, I kind of felt bad... she'd obviously been deceived by one of my many impersonators, probably. And low and behold, she has. She shows me where my pictures are being used, and I apologise because whoever she's been talking to is definitely not me. But I don't call the person behind the account just yet. Instead, we decide to get back at whoever it is, teaming up to coax them into meeting up and confronting them face to face. I didn't tell her I'd put it on TikTok, though... maybe I should mention that...

[lilyvandersteen]

Out of the Blue: Chapter 5

Cover art: @redheadgleek​

Beta extraordinaire: @hkvoyage​

Author’s Note:

For Halloween, Kurt dresses up as Loki, and Blaine as Gaston. Are you drooling yet? You're welcome!

Chapter 5: Halloween Party

“In my opinion, the younger son of an earl can know very little of either. Now seriously, what have you ever known of self-denial and dependence? When have you been prevented by want of money from going wherever you chose, or procuring anything you had a fancy for?"

(An excerpt from Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen)

Not even five minutes after his tirade, Blaine felt like a crushed cockroach.

Without so much as raising his voice, Kurt had torn apart Blaine’s whole reasoning and proved to him that he’d been completely wrong in attacking the brides.

Blaine had ruined the atmosphere and perhaps the entire wedding by throwing a tantrum like a sleep-deprived toddler.

Well, the sleep deprivation fits… Still, I’m old enough to deal with that issue in a more mature way!

Cooper, bless him, did his best to smooth things over, but Kurt wasn’t having it, addressing Blaine again and defending his choice to plan a wedding for his friends.

A silly romantic, is he? Me too. But now he’ll certainly never give me the time of day. Still. I should apologise.

So apologise Blaine did, but Kurt’s eyes flashed in a way that showed he wasn’t forgiven yet. He would need to grovel.

When Cooper put on the charm again and flirted with Kurt, the both of them whispering conspiratorially and winking, Blaine’s heart sank straight into his shoes.

Yeah, Kurt was out of his league. Totally. He didn’t even make a blip on Kurt’s radar.

But he had something to make up for, so he allowed himself only the briefest wallow in self-pity before he went to help Kurt out with clearing the tables and doing the dishes.

Kurt seemed surprised he would stoop to that, and Blaine cursed himself for his outburst. Now Kurt and his friends would think he was a total snob!

There was nothing to do but try to repair the damage, so Blaine washed dishes diligently, humming Frank Sinatra under his breath as he worked and stealing glances at Kurt whenever he dared.

By the time they were done, Kurt had thawed out a little, and offered Blaine another piece of cake as thanks for his help. Well, he was not going to say no to that!

They moved to the sofa with their plate, Blaine praising the cake to the high heavens, and Kurt smiling at him and offering to share the recipe.

Blaine’s cake was soon gone, and he looked towards Kurt to take his plate, too, and bring it to the kitchen.

But Kurt’s cake wasn’t finished. There was still a piece on his fork, and a bigger piece on his plate, which was teetering off his lap, in danger of falling. And Kurt? Kurt was fast asleep, his head lolling to the side and his expression serene.

Blaine smiled at him, and then carefully took away Kurt’s plate and fork.

Kurt snuffled and turned, his arm flinging over Blaine’s belly and his head landing half on Blaine’s arm and half on his chest.

Blaine froze for a moment, and then stretched out his free arm to put the plates and forks on the coffee table. When that was done, he curled his arm protectively around Kurt, to keep him from falling off the sofa if he turned around again, and then just basked in the moment.

With his mouth half open and a thin line of drool making its way down his chin, Kurt was still no less than stunning. And he didn’t only look good, he also smelled divine. His cologne was woodsy, with a slight hint of something sweet. What was it?

Blaine sniffed surreptitiously. Vanilla. Yes. Probably because Kurt had done the baking for the wedding.

Kurt smacked his lips and slid his head a bit further onto Blaine’s pecs, making a soft purring noise that made Blaine melt.

There was no-one in the loft but them at the moment, so Blaine didn’t feel any qualms about letting Kurt sleep all cuddled up to him. What wouldn’t he give to have a man like this for real… To get to sleep with him tucked into his side, or spooning him…

Blaine must have fallen asleep picturing a life with Kurt by his side, because the next thing he knew, his brother was shaking him awake and telling him that it was time to go.

Still half asleep, Blaine griped at Coop, and then remembered he had to be quiet for Kurt, who was asleep next to him.

Too late… He’d already woken him up with his whining. Well, maybe that was a good thing, seeing as Kurt could now move to his bed.

But apparently, Kurt slept on the sofa whenever Santana had Brittany over. Huh? They didn’t have beds for everyone living here? Oh, they were saving up for it?

Blaine frowned, and before he could stop to think, he’d blurted out that it was silly of the newlyweds to ask for an expensive pet pavilion when they didn’t even have basic necessities like a bed.

Kurt seemed suitably chagrined about that, and explained that the idiotic cat stuff had all been Brittany’s idea. He told Coop to cancel the order. “We’ve been feeling awful about that.”

Blaine’s mouth ran away with him again, and he wondered out loud how the newlyweds had been able to afford the wedding.

Kurt looked murder again, and no wonder. Blaine REALLY shouldn’t have said that.

Still, Kurt explained how they had managed. Basically, he’d worked his ass off to give his friends the wedding of their dreams. No wonder he’d fallen asleep just now. He probably hadn’t slept properly in weeks. Blaine envied the brides that they had such a fierce and loyal friend.

Kurt’s eyes flashed when Blaine gave him nothing but a mute nod in reply to his explanation.

Uh-oh, I’ve messed everything up again. Why couldn’t I have held my tongue?

Cooper came to the rescue again, assuring Kurt that the wedding had been wonderful in every way, that they weren’t to worry about the gifts he’d bought, and that he hoped to see Kurt again soon for another party.

That coaxed a smile out of Kurt, and thawed him enough to shake hands with Blaine as well.

Blaine took the opportunity to apologise again for behaving like an idiot. Kurt’s impassive expression made him slink off with his tail between his legs.

On the way home, Coop berated him for his rudeness. “Seriously, squirt, what was up with you? I could tell you were totally into Kurt, and then you go and say all the wrong things. He’s going to think you’re a total tool!”

Blaine hunched up and mumbled, “I am. And now I’ve ruined my chances with him forever.”

Coop clapped him on the shoulder. “Hey now, don’t be like that. There’s always next time. Kurt promised to invite me again, didn’t he? And I’ll take you as my plus one, and you will pour on that Anderson charm, and he won’t be able to resist you.”

Blaine heaved a sigh that seemed to come straight from his toes.

Did he want to go to another party where Kurt fawned over Coop and paid no attention to him? Yes, he did. Clearly, he loved torturing himself.

K&B

Two months later, Cooper came bounding into the living room yelling, “Guess what?!”

Blaine, who was working for school, was so startled he dropped a book on his toe. “Ow!”

“Guess what, guess what, guess what?”

Cooper danced around the table like a kid who’d eaten too much candy.

“What? You have a hot date and want me out of the house tonight?”

Coop rolled his eyes. “Nope. Try again.”

“You met another celebrity?”

“Nope. Try again.”

Blaine sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “Coop, I’ve got no time for this. Just tell me outright, please.”

Coop handed Blaine a card. It showed a black cat lying on a large pumpkin, while three witches were stirring in a kettle nearby. The message read:

“Something wicked this way comes!

Halloween Party at the loft on Friday the 31st of October, starting at 8 p.m.

Dress up like a villain and bring your own booze.”

Blaine frowned at the invitation. What on earth…?

“It’s from Kurt!” Coop beamed. “He invited us to his Halloween party. Awesome, right? You get to see Kurt again! So figure out a good costume, and make sure you’re on your best behavior this time, okay?”

Blaine felt nerves slam into his gut. Yes, he’d be happy to see Kurt again, but would he manage not to make a fool of himself or offend Kurt at this party? Chances of that were slim.

“I was thinking of Dorian Gray.”

Blaine quirked an eyebrow at Cooper.

“For my costume, squirt, keep up! I get to wear fancy old duds and look handsome, and all I have to do is put a tiny portrait of myself in my inside pocket, where I’m looking all ugly and aged up, and show it to people asking who I’m supposed to be.”

Blaine tilted his head to the side. “That’s brilliant, actually.”

Cooper bowed and doffed an imaginary hat. “Thank you, thank you. I have my moments.”

“So what are you going to take to the party?” Blaine asked.

“What do you mean?”

“As a gift to the host.”

Coop grabbed the invitation and perused it. “It says to bring your own booze. I’ll bring a nice bottle of whiskey or something.”

Blaine shook his head. “That’s just a waste of money. Students drink to get drunk. Fast. They’re going to down big glasses of your top shelf whiskey in one go without so much as tasting it. You’d better give them something useful. Remember how Santana doesn’t have a bed or even a decent sofa bed?”

“Huh. Right. But wouldn’t they have saved up for it by now?”

Blaine shrugged. “I doubt it. There are always emergencies eating up your savings.”

Cooper gave him a quizzical look. “Yes… That’s true. I know that from my early days in LA. But how would you know that, Mr. Silver Spoon? You’ve never lacked for anything a day in your life.”

Blaine felt his cheeks heat up. “Um… I might have… done some research?”

Now Cooper’s gaze became even more piercing. “You’ve got it bad!”

Blaine looked down. Yes. That was always his curse. He fell for someone instantly. Head over heels. No looking back. That hadn’t ever worked out well. People took advantage of him, and then threw him out like yesterday’s garbage. Telling him he was too intense. Too clingy. Too much.

Not that Kurt would ever give him the time of day, regardless. Last time, he’d been civil to Blaine only for Cooper’s sake.

Still, Blaine wanted to help somehow. He felt so ashamed of what his reactions had been at the wedding. It’s easy to criticize, yes, but it’s far more commendable to stay positive and make the best of the situation you were dealt. Kurt was quite right about that, and Blaine admired him for his pluck. Among other things.

“So what do you suggest? That we have a sofa bed delivered the day of the party, when they’re busy getting everything ready? Or that we bring two delivery men carrying a sofa when we go to the party?”

Blaine laughed at that last suggestion, shook his head and looked up at Cooper beseechingly. “We could bring the sofa bed a few days in advance maybe?”

Coop grinned. “So that you would get to see Kurt twice? I’m on to you, mister!”

Blaine didn’t deny that was his intent.

“Okay, I’ll call and ask if we can go drop it off somewhere this week. All right?”

“All right. Look, this one has a memory foam mattress, and it looks classy.”

Coop got his credit card, sat down next to Blaine and ordered the sofa bed.

Then he called the RSVP number on the Halloween party invitation.

Kurt must have been waiting to hear from Coop, ‘cause he picked up the phone after only three rings, and seemed happy that Coop and Blaine were coming.

When Cooper told Kurt he’d like to give him a decent sofa bed as a host gift, and could he have it dropped off sometime this week, there was silence on Kurt’s end for a while. Then he said, his voice weirdly strangled, “You don’t need to do this. Really. We didn’t ask you to the party because you’re obscenely rich. We asked you because we enjoy your company.”

Coop grinned. “That’s nice to hear. I’m still giving you the sofa bed, seeing as I already bought it. What would be the best day and time for it to be delivered to the loft?”

Kurt took a while to answer. Then he said, slowly, “Seriously, this is not necessary. All our other friends are just bringing some cheap beer or wine. Or even nothing at all, if I know Puck.”

Coop laughed. “I thought of bringing a nice bottle of whiskey, but Blaine said that I had better give you something useful. Always the practical one, my brother.”

Kurt sighed. “The thing is that I don’t want you spending a lot of money on our behalf!”

“Oh, the sofa bed costs far less than the whiskey I wanted to buy,” Cooper reassured Kurt.

From the new prolonged silence, Blaine inferred that Kurt didn’t find this reassuring in the least.

“So, what day would suit you best?” Cooper pressed.

Kurt laughed. It was short, and didn’t sound amused so much as exasperated. “All right, then. If you insist…”

“I do.”

“Then Wednesday would be the best day. In the afternoon. I don’t have class and my shift at the diner doesn’t start until seven.”

“Wednesday at two p.m. it is. See you then!”

“Um… You’ll… You’ll be there, too?”

Coop grinned. “Of course. I need to make sure they bring you the right stuff, and not something substandard because it’s a delivery to somebody else than me. Got cheated once when I bought my mom a brunch basket for Mother’s Day. Half of the things that were supposed to be in the basket were missing. Thank heavens she took a picture and sent it to me. I fixed that soon enough. Nobody pulls the wool over my eyes!”

“Um… All right then. See you on Wednesday. And… Thank you. This is… Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome. Looking forward to the party. Will there be pumpkin pie? That’s my favourite.”

Kurt laughed again, but this time it sounded happier. “There will be now! I’ll make sure of it. Thanks for the heads-up.”

Cooper rang off with a huge smile on his face. “And he makes pumpkin pie! You better marry that guy, or I will!”

That resulted in a brotherly scuffle, with Blaine telling Coop to “get his own”.

“Just telling you, squirt! Don’t let this one get away!”

“Not planning on it.”

Coop, his hair a mess and his clothes wrinkled now, grinned at Blaine. “You have the ring and the house and the dog and the schools for the children picked out already, don’t you?”

Blaine bit his lip. “Maybe.”

Coop threw his head back and laughed.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Blaine said sourly.

Coop clapped him on the back. “Hey, don’t be like that. I’ll be the best wingman there ever was, I promise.”

Blaine sighed. “I’m sure he wishes YOU would date him. And marry him. The way he fawned over you last time was just…”

“Discouraging?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll talk you up as much as I can. And I’ll mention that I’m a commitment phobe, shall I?”

Blaine poked Coop in the side. “You are NOT. You’ve just had a couple of bad experiences that have made you wary of commitment, that’s all.”

“Aww, you put that so nicely. Instead of saying that I’m an idiot who can’t tell a gold digger from someone who actually likes me for me. Thanks again for helping me dodge that bullet!”

“Anytime.”

K&B

That Wednesday, Blaine knocked at the door of the loft at precisely two p.m. The truck had arrived five minutes earlier, and two burly men had carried the sofa bed upstairs.

Kurt rolled the door open, dressed to the nines in a black sword print shirt with a white vest on top and very tight black jeans.

Blaine smiled at Kurt. “Delivery for Mr. Hummel.”

“Come on in, sir.”

Blaine’s heart sank into his shoes at the formal reply. Clearly, Kurt hadn’t recognized him.

Kurt turned around and gestured to follow him. The ratty sofa they’d napped on at the wedding was gone, and Kurt had cleared the space all around too.

“He doesn’t even remember you from the wedding,” Coop whispered in Blaine’s ear. “That’s bad!”

Blaine rolled his eyes. “I’m aware.”

The delivery men installed the sofa, and then Blaine showed Kurt how to turn it into a bed.

When Kurt thanked him, still overly formal, Coop came up behind Blaine and threw his arm over Blaine’s shoulder. “My little bro knows his stuff, doesn’t he?”

Kurt smiled. “He does. Do you work in the sofa business?”

Blaine looked at Kurt wide-eyed. “Um… No. I’m a student. NYU. Music composition.”

“Oh, me too. A student, that is. I go to NYADA. I want to be on Broadway.”

Blaine grinned. “Let me guess… As the MC for Cabaret? Evan Hansen? Tony from West Side Story?”

Kurt grimaced. “They’d never give me Tony. In high school, I auditioned for that role and I was laughed away. They said I wasn’t manly enough.”

Blaine tilted his head to the side and gave Kurt a slow once-over. “Are they nuts? You look all man to me.”

Kurt’s cheeks coloured, but a small smile showed that he appreciated Blaine’s comment.

“You do,” Coop chimed in. “Look at your cheekbones. And shoulders. Anytime you want to star in an ad of mine, you just say the word and I’ll make it happen.”

Kurt’s smile widened. “Really? Santana’s done lots of commercials, but she’s gorgeous, of course.”

“So are you,” Blaine assured him. “Absolutely stunning.”

Kurt side-eyed him.

Uh-oh. Was that too much? Did I put my foot in it again?

Coop nodded. “You are! Just say the word, and you’re in. I have a jeans campaign coming up you’d be perfect for.”

Kurt went back to beaming, and promised to get in touch with Coop for the campaign.

Coop and Blaine left soon after that, telling Kurt they looked forward to attending the party.

Coop whistled happily as Bill drove them back home, but Blaine didn’t know whether to be sad or elated about his second meeting with Kurt.

Kurt hadn’t recognized him, and had fawned over Cooper again. But on the plus side, he had talked to Blaine. Without any snark or bite. And Blaine would be working on the jeans campaign too, so he’d get to see Kurt again, and hopefully make more of an impression.

Blaine sighed, and resolved to try again on Friday. His costume was all sorted out, and he’d made it as sexy as possible. Operation Charm Kurt Hummel was a-go.

K & B

That Friday night, Coop and Blaine followed the noise again to the loft. The door opened to a colourful chaos. The place was packed with people in all sorts of costumes, and a bass was pounding so loud it gave Blaine an instant headache.

A green witch came to greet them. “Welcome, welcome! As you can see, I’m not Rachel Berry today but Elphaba. *Dramatic sigh* My dream role!”

“I’m sure you’d rock it,” Blaine told her, and she beamed as if he’d just made her day.

“Come! Kurt and Santana are here somewhere, I saw them just now… There! Come with me!”

Rachel tucked Blaine’s and Cooper’s arms under her elbows and tugged them towards her roommates.

“San! Kurt! Look who’s here!”

“I told you, Rach, it’s Malificent today,” Santana drawled, and yes, she wore the horned hat and the cloak with the pointy collar, and very red lipstick. Brittany, on her lap, was dressed as Catwoman, and another pretty girl sitting next to them portrayed Poison Ivy.

“Niiiiice!” said Cooper, giving her a once-over.

Santana rolled her eyes. “Let me guess, now you’re going to ask me what I’m wearing underneath? That’s always the follow-up to ‘Niiice!’ when someone sees my costume.”

Coop threw his head back and laughed. Then he mimed zipping his lips.

Blaine laughed along with his brother, but his chuckle petered out when he took in Kurt. Or should he say Loki? Yep, Kurt was sporting long black locks, a horned helmet and a long Asgardian coat. Its green accents did wonderful things for Kurt’s eyes.

“Who are you supposed to be, anyway?” Santana asked, and Coop got out his Dorian Gray portrait to explain.

She hummed, not very convinced, and then turned to Blaine. “And you are?”

Blaine’s face fell. He’d looked at himself in the mirror before they left and thought his costume was really good and self-explanatory. Wasn’t it?

He looked at Coop uncertainly, and his big brother winked at him and started singing.

“Gosh, it disturbs me to see you, Gaston

Looking so down in the dumps

Every guy here'd love to be you, Gaston

Even when taking your lumps”

Rachel laughed delightedly and clapped her hands, and Kurt cracked a smile too.

Blaine beamed at Coop. Now this, he could work with!

Together, the two brothers hammed it up, and by the time they’d finished, they’d drawn quite the crowd. Someone had turned down the music, and everyone was singing along with the refrain, and applauded enthusiastically at the end.

“I didn’t know we were doing karaoke at this party of yours, Kurt!” Rachel said. “But I’m all in favour! Let me go fetch my pair of microphones, and we can sing. I’m Elphaba tonight, so we MUST sing For Good. We sound so good together in that song!”

And off she was.

Santana rolled her eyes and mumbled something like, “There we go again!”

Then, she turned to Kurt, holding her hand out with the palm up. “Pay up, Hummel. I said less than an hour, and it hasn’t even been half an hour!”

Kurt sighed, fished out his wallet and gave her ten dollars.

Blaine quirked an eyebrow.

“We took bets on how long it would take for Rachel to suggest karaoke,” Kurt explained. “I thought – well, hoped – she’d at least wait an hour. But then you guys started to sing, and, well…”

He gestured towards Rachel, who hurried towards them holding the two bedazzled pink microphones Blaine recognized from the wedding.

“I asked Sam and Elliott to set up the stage!” she beamed, and sure enough, a tall guy dressed like Jafar and another dressed like Jaws from James Bond were putting together a small wooden stage.

Rachel tugged Kurt up from the sofa. “Come on, Kurt!”

K&B

Hearing Kurt sing was a revelation. Blaine was sure his jaw was hanging open unattractively, but really, you couldn’t spring something like that on him and expect him to keep his cool.

Kurt was a countertenor! He had a fabulous range, and he and Rachel sounded wonderful together. Blaine clapped until his hands were raw when the duet was finished.

Rachel beamed and curtsied, and was about to sing another song when a friend of hers took the mic from her with the admonishment, “Now, now, Rach, we said no hogging the mic, remember? Give everyone their turn!”

It was the most fun Blaine had ever had at a party. Fun people, stellar food, and karaoke! With people who actually sounded good!

He kept thinking that until a girl called Sugar went on stage to perform. As soon as she opened her mouth, the whole audience cringed. Good heavens, what a hideous singing voice! And she seemed to actually expect praise after her performance!

“Well, that was a very good impression of a velociraptor,” Cooper said loudly. “You’ve got that screech down pat. Maybe stick to the human register next time, though? Give our ears a break?”

Sugar gave him a disdainful sniff and stalked off.

Blaine rolled his eyes at his brother, but couldn’t help grinning.

“What? You know I’m right!”

“You are, too!” Santana concurred. “Ugh, she sounds awful. And she didn’t even dress up as a villain!”

Blaine quirked an eyebrow. “She didn’t? I took her to be Regina from Mean Girls. She’s dressed all in pink, isn’t she?”

Santana shrugged. “Sure, let’s give her the benefit of the doubt. And let’s keep her off the stage from now on!”

Everyone concurred with that, and made sure to ply Sugar with drinks and conversation. When it was Blaine’s turn to talk with her, he found that she always said exactly what she thought. Which was that Cooper was so way more handsome than Blaine that she wondered whether Blaine was adopted.

“We’re half-brothers, really. Cooper has another mom,” Blaine explained. The twitting of his looks stung. Yes, Cooper was more striking, everyone said so, but Blaine had been called good-looking by many people too, so there.

“Aah, that makes sense. So when are you gonna make your move? You’ve been panting after Hummel for hours now!”

“Um… I’m sorry, what?”

“Kurt! Why are you here with me and not chatting him up?”

Blaine eyed her uncertainly.

Sugar flapped her hands at him. “Go, go, go! Shoo!!”

So Blaine obediently drew closer to Kurt, and offered him a drink.

They’d just struck up a conversation about the remake of A Star Is Born starring Lady Gaga, of whom Kurt seemed a big fan, when the music was shut off and a nervous throat-clearing made everyone look towards the stage.

“Mercedes, could you come here please?” the guy dressed up as Jaws asked, and when she did, he sank down to one knee and proposed to her.

Blaine snuck a look at Kurt, who was smiling and tearing up. His face was open and soft, and though he was clearly happy for his friends, there were other emotions at play too: envy, wistfulness, and a bare-faced longing that took Blaine’s breath away.

“You know, I don’t think I’d have the confidence to propose to someone dressed like a terrifying villain,” Blaine remarked off-hand. “I’d be too afraid to be turned down flat.”

Kurt laughed. “Yep, he looks a fright with those metal teeth. And Mercedes still said yes. And is kissing him. It must be true love.”

Blaine stuck close to Kurt from then on, determined to cheer him up again. He even managed to dance with him, though not as closely as he would have wanted. Kurt laughed at Blaine’s dorky moves, but Blaine was buzzed enough by now not to care.

When Cooper came and told him they were going home because he had a photoshoot the following day, Blaine pouted.

“Oh, don’t you use those puppy eyes on me! We’ve already stayed a few hours longer than I intended to, because I saw you were enjoying yourself. But I really want to get some sleep or I’ll mess up the shoot. So say goodbye to your crush and come along, squirt.”

“Never!” Blaine declared grandly.

“All right, then.”

Blaine grinned at his brother stupidly, thinking he’d won himself some time, but then cringed when Coop hollered, “Bye, everyone! Thanks so much for the invite! We had a great time!”

Amid a chorus of byes and see yous, Coop took Blaine by the arm and led him out of the loft and down the stairs, where the town car was already waiting for them at the curb.

They got in fast, Blaine sighing and looking behind him one last time before he closed the car door.

“Well, squirt? When’s the wedding going to be?”

Blaine rolled his eyes. “Don’t call me squirt, please. And hold your horses. I’m working on it, okay?”

“Okay. Just don’t wait too long, or you won’t be pretty anymore. Think of the wedding pictures.”

Blaine’s eyes glazed over as he pictured it in his mind. Hmm, Kurt in a grey or black tuxedo, with a sleek silver waistcoat and a white flower corsage, coming towards Blaine or waiting at the altar for him with a glowing smile on his face.

“Hey! Earth to Blaine!”

Coop waved a hand in front of his face.

“What?” Blaine snapped.

“A little less daydreaming and some more action, please. I got you another chance to see Kurt by booking him for that jeans campaign next week, but it’s up to you to grab that opportunity and turn it into a success. Make sure you don’t blow it. Be on your best behavior, and charm the guy’s pants off!”

Blaine saluted Coop cockily. “Aye, aye, sir! Might be hard with those tight jeans he’ll be wearing, but I’ll try!”

Coop rolled his eyes at his tipsy brother. Then his expression softened. “Your man throws good parties, doesn’t he?”

Blaine nodded, grinning. “The best.”

[captainshadowgirllostfan]

This is the first Chapter Yugi POV of “How the Gang Met”

The day had started normal. The alarm clock bleeping, my hand crashing down to end it, and then Grandpa unceremoniously entering my room with his usual cheerful morning greeting, "WAKE UP YUGI!THE DAY CAN'T START WITH YOU SLEEPING THE DAY AWAY NOW!" And when that didn't work,there went several minutes in my room with my Grandpa beating me with a broom. Honestly, sometimes I wonder how it was this man who raised my father to be the sharp and brilliant businessman he was when half the time I swear the man was out of his mind. Maybe it was because I ended up being raised towards the end of the man's life. How old was he again? 60? 80? 90? A 100 years old?

"Now Yugi, today is an important day. The day you start your journey into becoming the great man you're meant to be. Now I know you've heard all the horror stories of high school, and I can't really say they are false. But trust me, it only starts that way. The key is surviving, and later becoming so great that when you come back to high school after many years, you'll say AHAHAHA! LOOK WHAT I'VE BECOME LOSERS! Unless you become popular." Doubt it. "Then you can still say, "AHAHAH! LOOK WHAT I'VE BECOME LOSERS!"

"Okay yeah Grandpa I understand." Not really. "But exactly how am I going to survive, if I don't really have any friends… Or even know exactly how I'm going to end up successful in the end."

"The key is, Yugi, to focus on your studies. And as for friends." Grandpa starts laughing boisterously, "Why you'll make a lot of them no problem. You know in my day I was rather popular you know. All the girls just wanted to be with me! But if you're anything like your father, you might not end up so popular. Not that your father wasn't meant to be unpopular. It was perhaps the fact that he was very reserved I suppose. Or the fact that everyone was just jealous over how brilliant he was!" Grandpa chuckled, while I raise my eyebrow.

"….You were popular?" I asked dubiously.

"Of course!" He grins. "What you don't believe your grandpa was such a ladies man back in the day?"

"It's not that I don't believe you..." To be honest I really didn't. If his way of getting girls is the same as now, there was no way women had any affinity towards my grandfather… Except for my grandmother, if my father's existence was any consolation, Grandpa probably did have some moves when it came to women. Still I highly doubted he was popular back when he was my age. I got his stature, and people with our stature just didn't invite popularity among the majority of people taller then us.

"Haha ah kids. So skeptical these days. Hmph. Fine don't believe me, not that it matters but it's true! I do have something though that may help with your friends' issue."

"Really?" I say, both shocked, intrigued, and hopeful. I mean I wasn't exactly popular in middle school… or ever really. Being a runt and all has it's drawbacks (again the reason #2 why I also think he's lying. I get my shortness from him and maybe my mother. My father oddly didn't get the shortness gene from his father, lucky bastard. Maybe it skips a generation…) like being bullied constantly in school, and being the last chosen in any sport or game. Oh also the lack of friends, because nobody wants to be friends with the short, unattractive, runt of the group. Hell if I wasn't such a runt, I'd probably not be friends with me either. I mean what benefit would,I, a runt be for a friend? Why exactly would anyone be friends with me? I'm useless. Hence the reason why I have no friends.

… Wow. This story suddenly turned into the sob story of an angst-y teenager, which I assure you I am not. I'm rather a very optimistic person, albeit shy. I do want to meet new people… I'm just not very confident. Being thrown into the dumpster many times during my past experiences of school does that to a person…

"Come now! Don’t tell me you forgot your lucky charm!” Grandpa laughed while I kept looking at him cluelessly.

“What are you-” I started to say only to find a golden box with a familiar creepy eye in the middle in my hands. “Your puzzle box!” exclaimed Grandpa while I stifled a groan. Right. My luck charm.

“You’ve been working on this since you were eight! I wonder why you stopped working on it. You were almost there!” 

I sighed. Not really. This puzzle had been the bane of my existence since I started. You see, I don’t like to brag, but when it comes to board games and card games I am the fucking king! I can win and complete the impossible. But this box… this puzzle…

Let me start in the beginning. When I was eight years old my parents died, and I had to live with my grandpa which wasn’t so bad to be honest. I loved my grandpa, but at the time… well I lost my parents. So to try and 

…I have no idea where that came from.

"So I was saving this till you were ready." He pulls out an ancient looking golden box. My hopeful expression deflates. Great, an ancient relic from his archeological days. I wonder if I rub it a genie will magically pop out and give me three wishes to make… "This Yugi is an ancient box" No duh. "Containing the pieces of a fabled magical item called the Millenium Puzzle. According to what this says, if you are able to solve the puzzle and put it back together, the item will allow you one wish, and it will happen. Your life will change forever." Grandpa ends with a dramatic air.

I look at him with a raised eyebrow as I accept his gift. Well not a magic lamp, but almost close. I guess I could humor Grandpa for a while. That and I do love puzzles, and any kinds of games really… except for the athletic kinds… cause I suck at those. "Thanks Grandpa. I can't wait to start solving this!"

"Haha I had a feeling you'd like it! You might end up making some friends with the puzzle." Yeah right, but Grandpa smiles and I feel a bit touched that he cares so much. Really I have the best grandfather in the world, even if I'm just saying that because I'm around him often, though if anything that just adds to how really awesome he is. I mean if you were around him as often as I, it'd probably drive you insane, and it does drive me insane, but in the end of the day, there really isn't a more caring person then my grandfather, plus he's the closest person to me. He knows everything about me, and understands everything that I feel! It's kinda creepy when I think about it.

"Now you go off now. The school bell will ring any minute now, and I don't want you to be late on your first day now"

"Bye Grandpa!" I wave my hand as I pack the Millennium's Puzzle Box in my back bag and make my way to school.

When I arrived at school, I was met with one of my old buddies from middle school. Actually, not really one of my old buddies, but he was a familiar face anyway. Joey Wheeler, A.K.A Asshole who won't get off my ass. Since as far as I could remember, the moment Joey Wheeler had come to Domino, he's decided that I would be his personal plaything. His excuse to the daily throwing my ass in a dumpster, stealing my homework, taking my lunch money, or whatever torture/punishment he decides to do to me for the day is one thing simple: to teach me to stand up for myself. Yeah, he's a real helper this guy.

"Well look whose finally showed up!" Wheeler says cheerfully as if we were planning to meet up and hang out before school. Really the day I become friends with this guy will be the day Ushio, the hall monitor, who takes his job way to seriously in my opinion, looses his head and tries to fall off a roof! Man do you have some gruesome thoughts. Maybe I should watch more My Little Pony.

"And where's that lunch you promised me?" Wheeler back to reality.

"What!? What lunch? What are you talking about!?" I ask my voice unintentionally getting higher with each word. Seriously what the hell is wrong with me? I'm not scared of this guy!

BAM! Ahhhhh… I gape as a fist almost collides to my face and hits the dumpster behind me. Damn it! How does he corner me so easily!

"Yugi! Here I thought we were friends. How am I goin' to eat if I have no lunch!?" Wheeler growls.

"I don't know." I whimper. Damn it! "Maybe you could uh buy some?"

"Or maybe" Wheeler smirks and I don't like it. "You could just lend me some money so I could buy some."

"Uh well… that isn't really what I meant." I mutter sheepishly scratching my chin. Wheeler grabs me by the neck shirt and then slam me back on the metal of the dumpster.

Geez what is with this guy and slamming people to dumpsters!

"Look punk! I know how loaded you and your gramps are being that he's a lead archaeologist and one of the greatest poker players in the world, and your pops owned one of those new big time businesses that you still get a paycheck from? Right?" How the hell did he know this? Shit! Is he stalking me?

"So I don't see how it is you can't have had some extra change in your pocket to give to a poor guy like me who's starving and got nothin' to eat later!" Wheeler finishes.

I just stare at him.

"Hey do'ya have a problem understanding English!" Wheeler shouted at my face and slammed me to the dumpster. Ow! That's going to leave a mark.

Okay this guy's not going to let up, but I'm not going to just hand him my lunch money like that! I mean come on I have to maintain some dignity and pride here!

"Okay! Okay! Here!" I gave him the change Gramps gave me to buy lunch today. Okay maybe I don't have any dignity and pride in me after all.

"Heh!" Wheeler smirked. Man! Is he insufferable! "Well I hafta say I'm disappointed Yugi! That was like taking candy from a baby! I expected so much more!" Are you kidding me!

"Oi Joey! What's going on?" Oh great it's Buffoon #2 coming in the join the party. And sure enough there's Triston Taylor coming around the corner toward us. Now compared to Wheeler, he isn't really so bad. I mean he and I used to do projects together in Middle School and he tries, emphasis on the "tries", to help out and not let me do all the work. He also, unlike Wheeler, attempts to make some civilized conversation with me, when he has to anyway, instead of smashing against a wall and stealing my money, all in all we have a very good non-intimate acquaintance relationship going on. Add Wheeler in the picture though, and well you can't really count on him to be my ally and defender. Today though it seemed he might be my hero.

"What the hell are you doing Joey? I thought you were going to stop picking on the shrimps ever since Kane transferred into the Rintama High School?"

"Now's not the time Taylor! Now are you goin' to help me throw this punk into the dump or are you goin' to stand there tryin' to reform me to your law-abiding ways and shit. Cuz I got news for ya buddy, you're wastin' your time." Wheeler sneered.

And so that's how I ended up in the dumpster that lovely Monday morning. Yeah my first day is going spectacularly! And Taylor really sucks at playing hero.

A/N: I know this chapter needs work. I’m gonna edit. I wrote it a long time ago and I know some things are wrong.