#so she's just a bit snippy and patronizing

[hazbinhappy]

Hi! Can you please do Overlord! Husk comforting a reader who is always very polite and sweet snapping at someone for the first time? Shortly after the anger outburst, when Husk asks what happened, she starts crying out of embarrasment because she didn't want to be mean but she just couldn't stand being taken for granted anymore. Thank you!

A/N: i freaking love that people love overlord husk like isn't he such a sick concept! this is also a bit more platonic

For this one I think I’ll make you a bartender!

You’re not like the usual ones who are a bit snippy or stoic, you actually try to make conversation with the patrons! 

It’s usually funny conversations because they’re either tipsy or shitfaced drunk

But there are the occasional times that you get the drunk who is too touchy or too annoying

Today was a bad day for you because a lot of people were demanding, but you kept up your front of being sweet and polite

But this one guy reached across the counter to try and mess with the drinks to make his own and that was just the tipping point for you (it’d piss me off if someone was fucking with my shit like um no there is an order here, wait your damn turn my dude)

You’re going off on everyone at your area in the bar and it’s gaining the attention of some people playing

Husk comes over and asks to have a word with you

Of course people assume it’s going to be bad, but it wasn't! You were probably the only soul that he really didn’t have to worry about (let’s just say it was a shock at how willing you were to give your soul up if it meant you got to have free housing and a job)

Anywho: he takes you to a storage room and is just confused as you start to cry as you sat on a crate. It’d make more sense for the people at the bar to be crying than you

He just stands and waits, but he eventually holds you to his side with his wing to offer you some comfort (he really just wants you to get back to work since the other bartender was injured badly-)

He asked why you were crying and why you had an outburst and you’re still crying as you explain how today was just bad and couldn’t stand the comments and it all built up and you just exploded

He said it’s fine and requests that you find him after work the next time it happens so he can take care of it, because he has a reputation to maintain

Though for some reason the next day there was a new sign at the bar that said “Respect the Bartenders. No Respect = No Drinks”

[cozy-fantasy-corner]

Band of Idiots Pt. 4: Coney Island

Pairing: Stucky x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, angst, pining, language, Steve being an angsty cat, mentions of violence, alcohol, illness, death, and fondue-ing 

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: Steve, Y/n, and Bucky are as thick as thieves. They spend a day at Coney Island together. Feelings are discovered and lies are told.

Author’s Note: It’s been ages since I’ve updated this fic. My apologies. Life got crazy. I graduated high school, moved out of state for college, and then got super sick. But I’m back and better than ever. My inbox and dms are always open!

(not my gif. credit to the owner)

-------

Brooklyn summers could be unbearable. The molten heat pounding on the asphalt of a concrete jungle was enough to make any seasoned New Yorker feel faint. The air looked like a blur and felt like it was baking the city alive. The sun a constant, unrelenting oven. 

July of 1934 was no different. In fact, it was somehow worse. 

Just two weeks ago, Stevie had his fourteenth birthday. And boy was he rearing to go. The torturous temperatures had Stevie acting like an alley cat. He was always yowling about something and picking fights with any and everyone. 

Three days this week he’d come home while Miss Sarah was at work cut up and bleeding. I’d be an amazing nurse with the amount of times I’ve given that boy stitches and set his nose. 

With Bucky’s new job down at the docks, he couldn’t save Steve so easily from all of his fights like he used to. Poor Buck is so worried about our boy. The thought of him biting off more than he can chew is enough to cause a knot in all of our stomachs. We wouldn’t know what to do without him. 

------- 

Today, Bucky had the day off of work and he’d been saving for weeks to take us to Coney Island to blow off some steam. For him, that was spending all his money to impress dames. For Stevie, it was drawing while next to me on a bench or the beach. As for me, I loved to just sit and observe all of the people: the sights, the smells, the sounds. 

The train ride to the amusement park was crowded and boiling with body heat. It smelled like stale sweat and old people in the worst way. The screams of children and the loud chatter from other patrons were enough to give me a headache, even with my bad ear. My back was killing me from standing for so long without a break, forcing me to brace myself on Steve and Bucky’s shoulders. Of course, Mister Meat-Head over here was flexin’ his suddenly very toned shoulder under my grip which caused me to blush. Thank God my face was already red from overheating, or he’d have poked fun at me about it. 

My shitty lungs were being squeezed by the warm, wet air, and I wheezed slightly. My wheezing was met with Steve’s and a concerned glare from Bucky. I moved my hand to my bag, fumbling for my peppermint oil. My fingers met the cold glass and pried it open near our noses. A deep inhale eased the pressure in my chest. 

“You alright, Kiddo?”

“She’s peachy, Buck. We’re on a hot train with a buncha loud, smelly assholes and we both got shit lungs. Wattaya think, ya jerk?” Steve snarked back, radiating thick annoyance. My mouth fell open in shock. 

Bucky threw up his hand defensively, a mildly hurt look on his face. Steve was never this cross, even on his worst days. Something was wrong, had been for weeks. Getting into fights, coming home later, skipping meals, being snippy, even to me. Now it was getting worse. I hoped that it wouldn’t ruin our day out, but part of me knew that things would only go downhill from there. And all I could do was brace myself for impact. 

I pulled my shoulders closer to my neck and inched towards Buck a little bit. My eyes squeezed themselves shut and I tried to breathe in, hoping for calm. All I got was B.O. and a frown from Steve. He knows I only do that when I’m nervous, and he was the thing making me nervous. 

Buck seemed so set on enjoying the day that he glazed over everything and plastered his trademark Bucky Barnes grin on his sweaty face. I almost wanted to pinch his arm just to snap him out of it. No one should smile that much or look that good doing it. Especially not on a train in the summer heat. Honest to God, it was annoying. 

Between Mister Sunshine and Mister Scrooge, the day was bound to be interesting to say the least. 

------

Bucky had stopped to grab me some pop while Steve stormed off, a bit too eager to be rid of us for my taste. A minute piece of my heart crumbled away. Never, in all the years that I had known Steven Grant Rogers, had he voluntarily put distance between us. I couldn’t figure a rhyme or reason, all I could feel in that moment was hurt. 

I ambled along the dock, book in hand. The salt-tinged air lapped at my frizzy locks and splotchy skin like a cooling balm. It felt like I could fully exhale finally. Deep breaths were a blessing. 

Very little time passed when Buck had bounced up beside me with his angelic grin. His baby fat had melted away in recent months, giving him a devilish yet heavenly appearance. That stupid, perfect grin caught me off guard. I was in awe that my safety net, my friend could possibly be this beautiful. He had always been handsome, but not once in my life had I seen someone, anyone, look so perfect. I wasn’t aware that my feelings for him could grow, but by-golly they did. 

Just staring at him wouldn’t do, so I elbowed him in the ribs. His playful pout made my chest squeeze. It wasn’t in the usual painful way like my attacks. It was something new, unfamiliar. He chuckled and pulled me under his arm as we continued down the dock. I felt so small and safe at his side. Tiny jolts of electricity seemed to pass from his skin to mine with every step. 

Nestled into Bucky’s side, we meandered towards the rides. A good handful of summers had passed since we’d been able to come here, but we had long outgrown the attractions we were used to. We bickered back and forth about which adventure to choose. I was thankfully able to convince him to take me on the ferris wheel at some point today, but I knew I’d have to let him have his fun first. The way his eyes lit up talking about the Cyclone told me that I wouldn’t have any choice but to go with him. God, I hate roller coasters. 

That Godforsaken ride was the bane of my existence, but my boys loved it to death. I always ended up with my head tucked into someone’s chest as we whipped ‘round and ‘round. On especially good days, like today, I was able to hold my lunch down.  

Something about this time felt odd. Bucky kept looking at me with a goofy grin. This smile wasn’t his normal endearing, toothy grin; there was something more to it that I couldn’t quite place. That look had my heart pounding in my chest, not from fear, but excitement maybe. 

------

Many more strange glances were exchanged over the next couple of hours, Steve’s attitude problem mostly forgotten. I couldn’t help but worry that something was wrong with Buck. Over the last 7 years, he had looked at me a lot of ways: worried, annoyed, caring. Today was a whole fresh set that I couldn’t quite name. It made me uneasy, yet giddy at the same time. A tiny, delusional part of me thought that maybe, just maybe the older boy loved me like I loved him. That would be impossible. He loves me like a sister. 

The rumble of Bucky’s voice shook me from my thoughts.

“How ‘bout that ferris wheel now? I think I’ve tortured you enough for one day.” he said with a chuckle. I nodded eagerly. 

As I went to start walking towards my favorite ride, I felt a hand in mine. Bucky’s. My breath caught in my throat, but I wouldn’t allow myself to freeze up. He couldn’t know how that tiny gesture affected me. Instead, I smiled up at him, squeezing his massive hand as we moved. 

Such a simple motion brought all of the thoughts I had shoved to the side crashing forward. My mind was in such a state that I didn’t even realize that we were at the front of the line, about to enter our car. Bucky moved to help me up with his kind smile and I sheepishly accepted. 

Damn him. Damn his beautiful smile. Damn his gentlemanly ways. 

After we settled beside one another, he took my hand in his again. His calloused thumb smoothed over the back of my velvet soft hand. It was almost like he was trying to tell me something. Lord, I need calm down. 

As we reached the top, Buck peeled me away from his side and turned look at me. He had an energy about him like he wanted to say something. His brow was furrowed, his eyes serious. His hands rubbed themselves down his thighs nervously. I couldn’t help but feel a little scared. Bucky is the calm one, the happy one. There has never been something he couldn’t turn into a joke. His brow only set itself this way when he was uncomfortable. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. 

I gulped. 

This had to be bad, right? But it couldn’t be. Nothing bad could ever come from such beautiful lips. Nothing. 

A sudden warmth on my lips jerked me out of my worry. My eyes blew wide in surprise. The warmth was Bucky, more specifically, Bucky’s lips. Everything faded away, even the shock, as I melted into the soft feeling of him against my mouth. His work-hardened hands came up to cup my cheeks while I sat there limp in his arms. We had all kissed on another over the years, light pecks on the cheeks and forehead. This one was different. 

Bucky pulled back for air and I sighed softly. Our foreheads met, eyes closed. My body was still limp, but my head spun a million miles a minute. He feels the same way. I’m not crazy. What does this mean? What about Steve?

Steve! 

We jumped apart when a sharp, familiar cough pierced through the haze. My startled eyes met Steve’s angry ones. Dread filled my stomach as I clamored away from Buck and onto the platform of the ferris wheel. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

------

Steve grabbed my arm roughly and dragged me towards a building nearby. Buck ran after us, yelling for us to stop. I was filled with panic and guilt. Steve looked like he was going to kill someone, well Bucky specifically. 

“What the FUCK was that, Y/N?” Steve growled, fist closing more tightly around my bicep. 

Before I could respond, Bucky was towering over both of us looking just as confused as I was. He paused for a second, taking in my shaking figure. His eyes hardened with rage. No one was allowed to scare me, not even Steve. He grabbed his shoulder harshly and spun him around. 

“You wanna let her go, Punk?” Buck hissed. Steve bristled and clenched his jaw. 

In true Steve fashion, he decided to forgo using his words, leaping straight to using his fists. His fist connected with Bucky’s jaw and I screamed. Bucky shot me a worried glance before pinning Steve to the wall as gently as possible. They stared one another down. All of our chests were heaving. 

Steve looked up at our friend with tears brimming his baby blue eyes, “How could you, pal? You know better”.

Bucky’s face softened instantly and my panic grew. Steve has feelings for me?

Buck muttered an apology and let Stevie go. I pushed myself between them, tears rolling down my flushed cheeks. Their gazes on me were piercing, my skin heating under their eyes. I grabbed Bucky’s hand and turned to Steve. He grabbed my free hand and squeezed softly, eyes full of tears and remorse. I put my head on his chest and hugged him tightly. 

“Stevie, what’s goin’ on, huh?” I whispered pulling back slightly. 

He just croaked, his words seeming to escape him. Buck squeeze my hand, whispering his goodbyes. As the sun dipped low, casting long shadows across the alley, a heavy silence enveloped us. Steve's gaze was distant, lost in the swirl of emotions that had consumed him. I stood there, my heart heavy with the weight of unspoken truths and tangled feelings.

"I... I don't know where to begin," Steve finally murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes searched mine, a mixture of pain and longing flickering within them. 

I reached out, gently touching his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my fingertips. "It's okay, Steve. Whatever it is, we can figure it out together," I said softly, offering him a small, reassuring smile. Of course we could, I love him more than life itself. 

He nodded, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. "I... I've been trying to deny it, but... seeing you with Bucky, it just..." His voice trailed off, his expression haunted.

I took a step closer, closing the gap between us. "Steve, whatever you're feeling, it's okay. You don't have to hold it all in," I whispered, my heart aching for him. I didn’t mean to hurt him. We had promised as kids never to harm the other. That promise lay shattered at our feet, and it was all my stupid fucking fault. 

Tears welled up in his eyes, reflecting the fading light of the setting sun. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm so sorry," he choked out, his voice thick with emotion.

I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close as he buried his face in the crook of my neck. We stood there, clinging to each other in the dwindling light, the weight of our unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. I shushed him softly like Ms. Sarah would, hoping, praying that I could ease his pain with imitation of his mother’s love. 

In that moment, amidst the chaos of tangled feelings and fractured relationships, the crushing realization that I had potentially destroyed the most meaningful bond in my life washed over me. One kiss and our worlds had crashed apart. 

Steve and I remained locked in our embrace, the warmth of each other's frail presence a balm to our troubled souls. The world seemed to fade away around us, leaving only the echo of our steady heartbeats and the whisper of our shared breaths. Clinging to him seemed to be the only thing keeping the ground from vanishing beneath us. He would never let me fall. 

With a gentle touch, I tilted Steve's chin up, meeting his gaze with a tenderness born of years of friendship and unspoken understanding. "I need you to say it." I whisper, my voice cracking under the weight of years of shared memories and unspoken emotions.

Steve's eyes searched mine, his gaze filled with a vulnerability that tore at my heart. "I love Bucky. More than you will ever know, Minnie." he admitted, his voice raw with emotion. Something inside of me fractured. 

He loved him? I felt betrayed. Steve had known for years how I felt, and he had kept this to himself. To what, protect me? Tinges of frustration bubbled up inside of me. He had lied to me, let me confide in him in the earliest hours of the morning, given me advice. None of it was in earnest. 

My anger fizzled out when I saw the tears falling from his pleading eyes. There wasn’t a way in the world I could stay mad at my Stevie, however betrayed I felt. 

I brushed away a stray tear that clung to his cheek, my thumb tracing a gentle path across his skin. "We'll figure it out together, Steve. Whatever comes our way, we'll face it together. All three of us," I promised, the conviction in my words unwavering. He flinched at my mention of all of us. His eyes begged me to keep his feeling for Buck between him and myself. I nodded knowingly, unwilling to betray him. 

In that moment, amidst the fading light of a Brooklyn sunset, I knew that this God-forsaken mess was far from over. But as long as we had each other, I was certain that we could weather any storm that lay ahead. And with that knowledge warming my heart, I held Steve a little tighter, silently vowing to never let go. 

[imperitvs]

How are Osians relationship with the other Origins? Any thoughts to share? Bonus if you add thoughts of Originals you follow (Please don't add Ceres in there I really just see what kind of person he is; how he interacts with other Originals and how he thinks of others! + Spread some love)

// Okay, so I've thought about this here and there so does need development, but Osian would definitely connect to some more than others. To preface; Osian is generous and kind but it doesn't mean he'll build strong friendships easily. He prefers to keep a little bit of a distance so he can concentrate on his studies. However, it all goes out the window as personalities start showing and they spend more time together as a group. He's only interacted with a couple of Original's so far so I haven't had the chance to develop his friendship with them yet - including Ceres. But I'd love to make a bigger list one day!

// I'll put each one under the cut in order of who he'd get along with most to least and why.

(1) Finn:- From the human who saved him from that burning pod, supporting him through the horrors of their trek to the man he fell in love with - obviously Finn would be Osian's number one when it comes to seeking company. He challenges Osian's mindset on being selfless to the point of stupidity and helps him learn how to be confident in himself. In return, Osian provides a safe space for Finn to express and discover who he really is.

(2) Gale:- Osian learned of Gale of Waterdeep when he researched into archmages, and idolises the man. For some time, he put Gale on a pedestal. However as time passes he realises it's rather detrimental and starts realising Gale is a person first, and a myth second. If anything, this helps him connect with him all the more. Obviously a love for magic binds them, but their interests elsewhere help keep a friendship going. Osian is horrified about the orb and would stop at nothing to ensure Gale is free of it. Despite understanding the lure power of the Weave can have, he is very much against Gale ascending to become a God.

(3) Wyll:- Osian may have heard of the Blade of Frontiers here and there but it wasn't necessarily a legend her heard much of. However, meeting Wyll he finds it very easy to get along with him. He admires the bravery Wyll had at such a young age to protect the city at the cost of his own life - in a way. Osian could listen to Wyll's stories of monster hunting all day. He'd also be interested in how Warlock pacts work, though just to learn from it rather than an interest in it. He even asks Wyll to help him learn some basic sword work as a way to protect himself should his spells fail him. Wyll's kindness helps put Osian at ease, especially in Act 1 when he's at his most nervous.

(4) Alaara and Karlach:- Both of these ladies would be placed around here. He'd see them rather equally. Intimidated by their prowess at first, he quickly realises that covers are certainly not to be judged. After some time, he would definitely enjoy sitting with them at the campfire. He'd enjoy listening to Karlach's tales, and certainly love listening to Alaara's music and learning about her culture. Karlach won Osian over with her story of her engine, Osian striving to find a way to fix it - as most of the camp does. He is always on the look out for infernal iron. Would also play his flute alongside Alaara if she asked very, very nicely.

(5) Shadowheart:- Osian really struggles with Shadowheart. He worships Mystra and Corellon due to his followings in magic (and Rillifane as his patron deity of Wood Elves). So he knows of Shar and her followers. Plus, Shadowhearts cold, snippy attitude puts him on edge. So he avoids her for the post part. He is heavily against killing the Nightsong and only starts bringing down some barriers if Shadowheart frees Nightsong. When her attitude settles a little, Osian will be neutral with her. He'd probably never be too buddy buddy, but he'll talk animals with her over wine if she so wanted around Act 3.

(6) Astarion:- Astarion really puts Osian on edge throughout most of the adventure. Especially in Act 1. The flirtation doesn't work on Osian. He's very much made uncomfortable by it. Unable to really say 'no' to people when it comes to helping - he allows Astarion to feed off him but he GREATLY dislikes it. Tries to convince Astarion to drink either from a container he'll bleed into, or from their enemies for the most part and Osian as a last option. However, if Astarion starts to respect this - and Osian's boundaries when it comes to flirtation and touching (no no's) - Osian can certainly come around. Despite Astarion making him wary, he wouldn't want the man to suffer. Doesn't approve of the deal with Raphael, but will gladly help take down Cazador. Would HATE the Ascension, and would rather release all the Spawn. If Astarion backs off and calms down, Osian could be found having a full conversation with him in Elvish.

(7) Lae'zel:- Osian is outright terrified of Lae'zel for a huge part of Act 1. He's heard of all the sterotypes and horror stories of Githyanki and their ruthlessness and Lae'zel certainly proves them to be true. The creche doesn't help this huge concern since they turn out to be liars as well. Though he softens when he realises they lied to her moreso. He may always be on edge around her, since ruthless, blood-thirsty killing is extremely off-putting for Osian - but he would want to be honest and truthful with her when it comes to discoveries about Orpheus and the Emperor. He would want to free Orpheus to give her people a chance and wish her all the best in the Astral Plane. But he doubts they could ever agree enough to be friends.

[longislandcharm]

TIMING: Mid-late November LOCATION: The Wormhole PARTIES: @longislandcharm and @animotoph0bia SUMMARY: Winter just wants to enjoy her wings when a disturbance in the bar catches her attention. Finn apparently is just asking to be hit. Too bad the girl puts a wrench in those plans. CONTENT WARNINGS: Drinking, mentions of unsanitary at the end

Wednesday nights were by far the best nights to be out on Worm Row, that much Winter knew for sure. It mostly had to do with the dive bar down the street from her hotel with the smell of fresh chicken wings wafting from it, something that always made her hungry for a late night snack. She’d never actually gone to the Wormhole before but for some reason this was the night she couldn’t quite resist the slight rumble of her stomach as she was walking to the Elysium to settle in for the night. So, in the bar she went, the girl almost turning right around when she saw what the place actually looked like. 

It wasn’t until she actually tasted the food that her regret and slight disgust started to fade into contentment. The wings along with the shitty vodka tonic on her table were enough to keep her in place at her spot at the bar, scrolling through her phone before some kind of commotion started to break out and Winter looked up to watch as a man started yelling throughout the bar about anyone who would go near him.

Eyebrows creasing with confusion, she started biting into one of the wings as her interest started to peak. Winter wasn’t one to cause many scenes herself but she sure did enjoy it when someone else was going off their rocker. It always made for a good show. Amusement filled her, the girl continuing to snack as if she were watching in a theater full of other amused patrons even while other people were grumbling around her. It was only when he got closer that she clucked her tongue before speaking to him. “Dude, you might want to chill. I think the bartender is ready to hit you with a bat or something.”

—-

The ‘incidents’ had become few and far between once Finn had finally finished high school. Not because he’d gotten better at controlling… well, anything, but purely because he’d learned that solitude was the best prevention. It was a (mostly) solid plan, only really sidetracked when his own thoughts were doing a good enough job of driving him insane. A Wednesday night at some dive bar should have been quiet to a point of the place being almost empty. A few drinks, surrounded by other people’s wallowing, before heading back home had been the plan. 

Finn hadn’t meant to piss off the bartender but then again, he hadn’t been prepared to get filled to the brim with annoyance and anger. Self-pity and sadness was what had been expected in a bar on a weekday. So of course, his usual sarcasm had taken on a snippy tone, infected by the surrounding feelings of tension. And maybe a little bit by the fact that he’d gone through three drinks fairly quickly despite his mother’s voice insisting not to mix the medication with alcohol. 

“So it’s a problem that I’m in a bad mood when everyone in here is on the verge of murder for some reason?” he found himself saying, although shouting would have been more apt, moving to stand. It would have been more graceful if not for the damn barstool betraying him and the room doing a fun little spin. “Except for…” Bleary eyes roamed the space before landing on a believable suspect, “I’m guessing that guy. He just really wants to get laid. Sorry bud, not sensing any interest in this room.”

Hands reached for him and Finn backed away, bumping into a table. The wheels were spinning and even though it seemed likely they’d only stop once someone knocked his lights out, caring about that outcome wasn’t on the table. The girl whose dinner and drinks he’d almost knocked down was speaking and it took a moment for the words to register. Anger, and now violence, wasn’t quite as profound in this part of the bar. At least one person in here didn’t want to beat the shit out of him. “I would chill if that weren’t fucking impossible in here. No one in here has any chill, it feels like they’re all just waiting for an excuse to murder someone. Or fuck something in that guy’s case.” 

Finn pointed once more at the man he suspected was to blame for the very loud emotions of pent up energy and oops, said man was on his feet now. Since common sense wasn’t exactly about to make its presence known now, Finn scrambled to put the girl and her table between him and the approaching incel. 

—-

Winter was laughing. She couldn’t help it, really. It was so funny to her that this man seemingly picked the largest  guy he could to call out while his own stature couldn’t quite measure up. Even after he almost ruined her meal she found him very entertaining. Too bad she was the only one enjoying the show. Everyone was staring, something she couldn’t care less about, but now the large man was walking towards them with a murderous glint in his eye and suddenly her laughter died in her throat. Well, this was just great. The guy could talk the shit but he had to hide behind a girl that was 5’3 once he got in trouble for it? 

She took her time in wiping her hands clean with a napkin, a sigh escaping her as the big guy trekked across the bar. But when he was right in front of her she stood and put her hands on her hips, making sure to block his path to the drunk one behind her. “Look, it’s not like he’s wrong. You reek of desperation and nobody here is interested. Learn to take a shower and maybe the next time you're in here you’ll get lucky.” The guy grunted at her, his head leaning down so he could actually get a good look at Winter and she shrugged her shoulders. “He’s drunk and half your size. Don’t be even more pathetic. Let him be.” 

He continued to glare at her until she made a gesture trying to move him along, shooing him with her hands. Another grunt was made before he turned and walked away, hopefully out of the bar altogether, and she turned to face the one who should have had his face smashed in by now. “That was really nice. You’re such a charmer, I can’t believe you’ve managed to piss off everyone in less than twenty minutes.” 

She had no room to talk, really. Winter could do the same on most days but it seemed like he had been on a mission. “Maybe you should eat something…something greasy, soak up some of that alcohol.”

—-

The room was starting to tilt, heart pounding with the immense turmoil of emotions mixed with alcohol. Finn hadn’t meant to lash out, obviously. Did he look like someone who regularly got into fights? He was wearing glasses for fuck’s sake. Even so, this always happened. Put too much anger in a room, put too much anger into him and the stupid shit just started flowing from his mouth. It was too late to back out now - maybe letting himself get knocked out and taken to the hospital was best for everyone at the moment. Maybe Wicked’s Rest had a decent ER. 

Before the man he’d antagonized, or the woman he was currently hiding behind for that matter, could punch his lights out, it seemed a rescue mission was underway. One hand bracing against the back of a chair, Finn watched the conversation with intrigue, managing a brief focus on just the girl. Confidence. Still a bit of mirth and these were much nicer emotions to revel in. 

Miraculously, the man backed off. Finn slumped into the chair previously being used as his one point of balance, a sarcastic smile to match her tone sliding onto his face. “That’s not even close to my personal record.” Sometimes, it only took a single sentence to piss off his mom. His teachers had entered a state of being constantly pissed, always waiting for the next outburst of him shouting at one student or another. 

“You should have let me get punched. Honestly more bearable than being in here,” he sighed, words slurring slightly together. It was a bit better now, the sarcastic stranger’s mood almost managing to balance out the rest of this reeking shithole. She mentioned something about food, Finn didn’t really catch the whole thing, but it was invitation enough for him to grab one of her chicken wings. Had he eaten today? Probably not, which explained the state of him after only a few drinks. 

—-

“Are you proud of that fact?” Sure, his sarcasm matched hers but the words alone were enough to make her think he was. He’d obviously not done anything to change his ways so it could have been something he was trying for on a daily basis. She was prone to agitating some people on purpose herself so there was no judgment in her tone whatsoever, amusement still the primary emotion welling up inside of her. “Because you sound proud of that fact.” Winter took a seat next to the man, noticing that he’d slipped into her previous one, and grabbed the drink to slide it over to her new location. She had a feeling she would need it to get through the rest of the night without getting annoyed. She’d done well so far, why tempt fate?

“You’re right, I should have. It would have been a lot more entertaining, that’s for sure.” She took a sip of the alcohol before continuing. “Funny thing though, I thought you might appreciate a stranger stepping in to save your ass. My mistake.” Winter watched him reach into her basket of wings, the first tinge of actual annoyance that night briefly cutting through her calm demeanor but she pushed it aside. The medium had been the one to mention food, she should have known that he wouldn’t have a second thought about hers in his state. “If you hate it so much in here, why are you hanging around?”

Rich. It was a question she asked herself on most days when walking through town, especially when her eyes landed on the ghost that wouldn’t leave her alone, reminding her of the many things that went bump in the night around here. Luckily tonight he’d grown bored of her phone excursions and started walking around the place to people watch and she hadn’t had to worry too much about him. Still, there couldn’t be something important keeping this guy in the bar, right? Or had Winter walked into something else that would scar her for life? “This better not be some sort of eatery for zombies or something.” She mumbled the words, hoping he hadn’t caught them as her eyes cut around the bar.

—-

The question caught him off guard because obviously it wasn’t something to be proud of, knowing you were usually the person most likely to incite a riot in every room, but of course this woman had no way of seeing through the bullshit his mother would call a ‘defense mechanism’. Sounding proud was much easier than letting someone see just how shitty being the way you were made you feel. “Not proud, just saying that it’s not my best work,” Finn doubled down on the attitude, answering around a mouthful of chicken. 

As if to prove his own point, the stranger was now joining the rest of the bar in their annoyance, hers more muted but still very much present. Finn tried his best not to mind. “I am grateful, I can’t pull off a black eye for shit. Just think it would have been better for everyone if the EMTs had to deal with me.” And then, another very valid question from her, proving that she was clearly insightful and not rolling with the shit coming from the empath. 

With a sigh, Finn leaned back in the chair, the motion making the room spin again momentarily. “Because it’s still better than hanging out alone in my apartment, again.” It was an honest answer, the words laced with annoyance and he couldn’t tell whether it was his own or influenced by hers. The baring of his soul clearly wasn’t more interesting than whatever she was currently looking around for and as he caught onto a mumbled word, Finn had to agree. “Zombies?” he blurted out, leaning back in, palms stretching out over the sticky table. “You think there’s zombies in here?”

—-

”Best work would imply pride, would it not?“ She raised an eyebrow at him, suddenly wondering what he meant by his best work. What exactly did he do for something like this to gain that particular title because he'd made a huge mess of things in this bar. Winter wanted to know. ”What was your best work, exactly? Has to be something big to top almost being beaten to death in a sketchy bar...though I guess it wouldn't take much in here for someone to want to beat on someone.“ She looked around again. It wasn't the first time that she had noticed how seedy this place was but she wasn't usually sitting with someone who could cause riots, was she? Did she like danger or something or was it just attracted to her like some messed up magnet?

Abandoning the first basket of chicken wings, figuring he would want more than one, Winter motioned for the bartender to bring another for them. They were good, he seemed hungry and needed to sober up, she'd be generous for tonight. She laughed at his EMT comment, sipping on her drink before she decided to answer him. ”I wasn't here for that drama tonight. I've seen enough...injuries lately to last a lifetime.“ No more trauma for Winter, at least not tonight when she had a chance to help the situation die down. “Besides, I think you could pull off the black eye. Could probably pull off more than you think.” 

Her attention was brought back to him as he leaned back in his chair, the girl raising an eyebrow at him. ”Gee, I wonder why you're not invited out more often. Maybe if people didn't come close to calling EMT's when you're around you would have more friends?” It was a lighthearted tease, meant to try and lift his mood a little, but there was an air of truth to her words. He didn't seem like that bad of a guy when he wasn't going around and pointing out fucked up assumptions about everyone. Or stealing her chicken wings. 

Crap. He'd heard her and he was awfully attentive now. She couldn't figure out whether his question was a serious one or if he was mocking her and Winter decided to go the safe route even as her heart started to beat a bit faster. “It was a joke.” The words were matter of fact, her tone indicating that he was stupid for thinking anything else even if there was no heart to it. “Why? You're not a zombie, right?”

—-

His best work? God, there was a lot of shit to sift through if he had to go around choosing his greatest fuck up, not counting the obvious answer where he’d been completely useless and missed all the signs but no one wanted to hear about that. Finn had done enough talking about it anyway, filling up pages and pages of scribbled notes at every psychologist’s office, inevitably getting the ‘it wasn’t your fault’ package they all seemed to recycle and… wait, what had she asked again? “Anyway, I’m Finn.” A very smooth save, indeed. 

Finn wasn’t too proud to accept the donation of chicken wings, not after already probably ruining the basket for her, so he started chewing on another piece while mumbling his thanks. It didn’t really make sense why this stranger was being so nice to him but he couldn’t really muster up the effort to care at this moment. Something dark swooped across the table when she mentioned the witnessed injuries and his eyebrows creased. No further context was given because yes, normal people could generally go around without inflicting their trauma on everyone and everything. Finn wondered what the fuck that was like. 

“You’re just saying that because you still kinda want me to get punched,” Finn argued in response to what was maybe a compliment? Or an insult, he wasn’t really sure. All he could tell was that yeah, she was still just a tiny bit pissed at him, with good reason. “But you’re absolutely right.” The stripped bone of the chicken wing was pointed in her direction as he continued, “people really just can’t handle all of this, y’know?” That, and the whole ‘I know what you feel at every given moment’ part. 

His heart started to pound the moment hers did, brown eyes widening even as Winter’s mask of calm and collected settled over her features. “Not a zombie, definitely weirder than that, though but no brain eating, which I guess is a plus,” Finn rambled, attention quickly shifting somewhere else as he started to shrug off his jacket. Shit, was it getting hot in here or just the combination of his companion’s sudden worry, the booze and his new friend still trying to glare holes through his face from the other side of the bar. 

—-

“Deflecting seems to be another thing you’re not very good at. But I’ll take that as you don’t want to talk about it.” Wow, she really was feeling generous that night. Usually she’d push until the other person gave in, especially if Winter wasn’t enjoying their company that much, but she didn’t feel like fighting with him. She wanted to enjoy her drink and those fresh wings she could smell being cooked in the back. “I’m Winter.” Her usual ‘nice to meet you’ was on the tip of her tongue but at the last minute she decided to forego that part. It hadn’t been nice up until that point. 

Winter did laugh at his next comment though, not expecting it and also not expecting him to be so right. She’d been trying to be nice and give a compliment but he saw right through it. “Okay, so you caught me. You are a perceptive one, aren’t you? And one with a very punchable face.” The medium watched him as he pointed the chicken bone at her, shaking her head but still highly amused. “You’re definitely not for the weak, that’s for sure.” Giving him a pointed gaze, she continued. “Just gotta find the strong willed. They’ll keep you in check.”

Why did he look like he was also nervous now? She didn’t even notice it until he took his jacket off but his expression wasn’t helping much either. “Weirder than a zombie? I didn’t know it could get much weirder than that.” She did know that it could, she’d just never met anything that could be considered weirder while out and about. Winter had to wonder whether he was being honest with that statement or not and it struck her how she’d never had to wonder about that before. There had been plenty of times throughout her life that jokes like this had been made around Halloween and now she knew that some of those definitely weren’t joking. “So…what are you then?” She tried to keep a semblance of the teasing in her voice but now she really wanted to know if he was something different.

—-

“I swear I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Finn replied back, mostly in a joking tone of some friendly gaslighting but also because keeping track of conversation really was a bit hard. Especially once she gave her name and all of his attention shifted towards that. “Oh, holy shit. Winter, the one I’m gonna block during Christmas? I swear to god, if there are two Winters in this town then some parents need to chill the fuck out.” 

The realization was a fun one, even though it reminded Finn that he’d also accidentally been a bit of a dick to her online what with saying her job was basically trash. Oops. “If you let me finish the wings then you’re definitely entitled to a punch, I think,” he sighed, grabbing the last of the wings, thankful for the fact that they were making the bar feel a little less… spinny. Snorting a bit at the idea of someone keeping him in check when his own mother had failed, Finn simply shrugged. “Well, still waiting for some masochistic volunteers to accept the job.”

Nerves seemed to give way to curiosity, albeit with a bit of skepticism which Finn couldn’t blame her for. He’d been spouting bullshit all evening, how in the hell was Winter supposed to tell if this was anything different. “I’m human, obviously. Maybe not obviously in this town, I’m kinda starting to gather but, anyway, fuck it. I can feel emotions. Like, other people’s, not just my own. Obviously. Like the way you still kinda wanted to punch me and that guy not getting any for months, maybe even years.” His head nodded towards the bar before he finished off his wing, waiting for Winter to inevitably leave or question his sanity. 

—-

“Wait.” She was staring straight at him for a second before she let out a sudden, loud laugh. “You’re Phenergan? Why do I feel like I should have known that?” Their conversation of bullies and nerd games should have given the clue that this was the same guy but to be fair he hadn’t been this obnoxious online. At least not until he’d insulted her show. Okay, now Winter knew this was the same guy, the girl finishing off her drink to give her the strength to not start an argument about it. “Hey now, Winter isn’t as bad as some of the names you hear these days. But agreed that it’s not common. Would have been weird if there were two of us.” 

She was going to let him finish the wings anyway but the offer was enticing. Winter couldn’t hit for shit though so she knew it would only be embarrassing herself if she even attempted. “As tempting as that is, I just got a manicure and I’m not ready to ruin it just yet. Maybe I’ll give jumbo shrimp, still eyeing you over there, his shot if you really want to get hit that badly.” Speaking of masochists. “Also not one to enjoy the pain and misfortune that you apparently adore but I’ll keep my feelers out for you. There’s always one, right?”

His explanation was more than enough to catch her off guard. She wasn’t even sure if he was messing with her or not but things made more sense if she factored in that fact about him. Wings were placed in front of her but they sat forgotten as she sifted through the many thoughts now racing through her mind and what to say to those words, whether she should believe him or not. There were a lot of questions but really being able to feel others emotions wasn’t so out of the question here. In the end, Winter settled on one thing. “And you think that’s weirder than being a zombie?” Yea, it was weird but there were a lot of things in this town that topped it. The comment also left things more open for him to interpret instead of her outright saying she believed him even if she was inclined to do so.

—-

Hearing his new nickname spoken out loud drew a genuine laugh from Finn, matching Winter’s aside from his maybe being a little bit more… drunk. “You really should have. I’m very memorable,” he countered, grin now plastered on his face, his companion’s enjoyment of the revelation doubled in his own mind and soaked with alcohol. “Wait, do you want to hit me more or less now?” he added as an afterthought, the question mostly genuine. Hopefully, he managed to be slightly less obnoxious online and sober. At least, he was pretty sure he’d been sober for their conversation, it was a bit of a blur at the moment. 

Snorting at her excuse of protecting her nails, Finn gave a shrug as if to say ‘your call.’ Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t really expected her to hit him. He’d experienced the feeling of ‘I’m going to hit that jackass’ enough times to have it seared into his brain and Winter seemed to be slightly more of a pacifist. Her passing him over to the man who definitely wanted an outlet for his anger, though… “Hey, he doesn’t get a free pass, that was only for you. Even though you don’t want to ruin your life by being in my sunshine company.”

It took Winter longer than he’d thought to respond, one emotion jumping over the other in a race to come out on top. Maybe they weren’t that confusing and maybe she wasn’t taking that long but it was getting harder to focus again, those last shots of the evening most likely sneaking up on him now. “People aren’t exactly making blockbusters about me, are they?” Finn argued back, pausing for a moment as the sudden excitement of his comeback made the room swivel. 

“Sorry, just-” Finn swallowed thickly, opening his mouth to add something but snapping it shut just as quickly, shaking his head. “Nope,” he muttered as he clambered to his feet, chair tumbling to the ground in the process as Finn bolted in a very not-straight line for the exit. Thankfully, he made it outside before elegantly portraying just why alcohol was bad for you, waving his hand at people that passed by with smug emotions and laughter at the pitiful state. 

—-

She took a moment to think about his question of hitting him before shrugging a shoulder. “I don’t think my want of hitting you has lessened or worsened. It’s about the same. Question though, is this free pass good for any time or does it have to be used tonight?” Winter finished off her drink after the question, waiting patiently as she noticed his face going a little more pale than it already was. That wasn’t a good sign. There was no way for her to know how much he had drank that night but the man had been becoming a menace before she’d noticed him so she assumed quite a bit.

It was only confirmed as he got up and ran out of the bar, the girl rolling her eyes but not moving from her seat. “What’s with him? Make him cry or something?” Henry’s voice cut through the noise of the bar and she shook her head at him. “Someone can’t hold their liquor.” To anyone else the comment could have been seen as her making a judgment to herself, nothing out of the ordinary, but Henry nodded to confirm that he’d heard her even with a loud commotion starting at the other end of the bar. “You just gonna leave him out there?”

Henry’s bleeding heart outweighed hers any day of the week and she had to roll her eyes again. The ghost could be annoying when it came to how she treated other people sometimes. “Of course not. I’m going to call an Uber for him because why would we let a drunk walk home alone?” Winter waved her phone at the ghost sarcastically before she opened the app. She had no idea where the dude lived but they could figure out the logistics of it all when the car arrived. He wasn’t her problem anymore.

[baldursgay3]

It's time for me to ramble about my tav and his relationship with the group but also what will probably be a Lot about astarion

i will put this under a read only for most of it past act 1 to avoice spoilers dfor people but 

TL:DR:  Yandarai wants to see his friends and new family free of their gods and masters and seeing astarion so desperately want to be free makes him want to rip cazador's throat out himself so they can go cuddle on the fanciest bed possible with scratch and owlcub in their own fancy beds at the bottom of their own

(I also use the party limit begone mod so everyone comes with me all the time (this does not make the game any easier because i am incredibly bad at the game))

so preface Yandarai Irian is a "Half-Elf" archfey warlock who's patron Milkenan is his papa, and his other father Gyenodi also had a pact with Milkenan before they fell in love and he spirited him away from his noble family to the feywild to get married

Both of Yan's fathers are technically Elves (in appearance) but they're different types so he is often referred to as a Half-Elf, although he's closer to Eladrin (and with the fantastical multiverse mod in EA he was Eladrin )

Milkenan is Archfey/Noble Eladrin so powerful he could be considered Archfey, Gyenodi is High Elf

(Yan says he's a Half-elf but when asked what the other half is he'll only reply "elf" because he's a shit)

Before coming to faerun the only frame of reference he had for mortal beings was Gyenodi who has been in the feywild so long that he isn't as mortal as he once was anymore, and was a bit of a bastard before he left anyway, so Yan has no morals over things others would consider obvious, but he does know the Rules of the Court as thats all Gyenodi really remembers

He'll protect children and animals, but if neither of those are involved it'll be whatever he finds funniest

Until he catches friendship, and then also catches Feelings

platonic affection first comes for Shadowheart, she's standoffish and snarky and her secretive nature is something he loves because she's Interesting!! This funny girl is trying to hide that she's a sharran while wearing shar's emblem in 200 different places and she also has a toy that's stopping us from dying!!

Laezel comes next solely because she's so ready to just throw hands with everyone and the drama that causes is so good!! and then she opens up and he learns that she's just as isolated and alone and unsure of how this world works as he is

Gale is a funny little wizard guy who made so many bad decisions in the name of  love that Yan can't help but enjoy his dumbassery

Wyll is mostly in the same boat as Gale and he's even more interesting with the cool horns than he was without them. He knows what it's like to be a noble with some expectations to be more refined than he truly is

Karlach's enthusiasm is infectious even if they don't always see eye to eye on some matters, and he loves seeing her get so happy over simple things and finally being able to touch other people again. he gives her her first hug in a decade, and never shies away from any of her 

warm, friendly touches.

Halsin is Big and interesting and cares for animals and children as much as he does

Jaheira is Funny and that's the best thing you can be for Yan. She's been through a hell not that different to their current situation and she's still bantering and quipping with him. Her parenting is also funny to him as she's annoyed her own children who she raised clap back at her just as well as she does.

(I haven't got the minsc yet)

And then we have Astarion.

He's snippy, he's overly dramatic, he's the only companion who seems to actually use the tadpoles, he's even Bi

Yan knew something was Up with Astarion before the biting scene, but when you meet a guy with sharp teeth but literally nothing else that ticks the vampire list you don't really think too much on it you know. And then of course the Bite, and he lets him keep feeding while he sleeps because they have to stick together! If he's weak they're all weak and the situation they're in right now means any interpersonal issues will have to be put on hold, he's not the only person there that has tried to kill him already

The first night they spend together is fun, and the rare moment he's vulnerable in the sunlight about his scars is insightful and intimate in a way that he can tell is hard for Astarion. The second night once the grove has been saved is just as fun, even though it's mostly just groping each other in the forest while trying to eat each others faces because they're still battered from the fights in the goblin camp and it'd nice to just feel eachother up sometimes you know?

He calls him pretty when he offers to tell him what he looks like, although he would have much rather have been able to talk about all the little things like how the hair curls around his ears and how sometimes when he smiles his eyes crinkle up or the way his eyes get big and serious and shiny when Yan does something he genuinely appreciates and how long and gentle his fingers were when they were trailing down his neck and —

It's not love, or at least not yet. They're still in so much danger and there's no way this will last past them reaching the moonrise towers, let alone Baldur's Gate itself.

And then he asks Raphael to help him with his scars and also shows Yan just how much he wants to be Free of doing what other people want him to, even if it means taking over a whole cult to do so, sharing traumatic parts of his life under Cazador and how he does care for the other spawn in his own way.

He's still haunted by this man who is miles away, and for some reason Yan feels he Needs to help him get free far more intensely than he feels for the others in the group. They all have their own gods or masters who still Own them in some way, but only Astarion's spectre of the past fills him with Rage.

It seems it all comes to a head after meeting the drow woman in Moonrise towers. He'd already made up his mind that if Astarion wanted nothing to do with her, then he would do nothing to persuade him otherwise. But asking the woman about the potion she would offer them seemed to have given the other man the wrong idea.

Yan wouldn't deny it stung him a little, for Astarion to think that he would force him to, but the look on his face when he makes that clear is more than enough to soothe the hurt.

And then that night? The man admitting that while their nights of passion were just for his own protection at first? that hurt just as much somehow.

But it being followed up with Astarion Confessing his own feelings felt like heaven, as did the hands on his back and his head on his shoulder when Yan closed the distance to hold him.

It still wasn't love, but gods did it feel good having the other man smile against his lips.

It's only once they reach Rivington, having fought an avatar of death to get here, that he's able to think about everything that's happened. The others are asleep or meditating, the young child they've taken in curled up in a corner close to him. He can hear the owlcub hooting quietly at the other end of their camp, and he finally works up the courage to ask his papa through their bond

and Milkenan Laughs at him

You love your friends, but you're In Love with the sickly looking twig. Take care not to snap him by being too rough.

And if he were to hurt you, your father will come to make him regret ever living.

He takes that as their blessing, but keeps the words of his true feelings to himself for what might as well be a million years.

(he so desperately wants to curl up in a bed with him for a full tenday, just be safe and warm and pressed up against the other man at all times. Maybe when this is all over Astarion will let him drink his essence for a change)

The meeting with the Nymph only intensifies this, the True answers to the woman's questions being far too intimate for admitting in front of her, but knowing deep in his soul that he can Never be happy while Cazador lives, that he'll never be free if he goes through with the ritual himself. No longer a slave to a master, but to his own fears of becoming one once again.

The mansion and the echoes of the horrors that took place in it make it worse, the burning hot anger feeling like bile in the back of his throat. The screaming for Cazador's spine reach fever pitch as Astarion is ripped from them in the ritual room, and doesn't let up the entire battle.

It's only as he sees they have gotten through to Astarion when it comes to the state of the ritual that the screaming and the bile and the Hatred fizzle out into pure Relief, watching the man that he loves plunge the knife into Cazador again and again until there's no more movement and the man is Finally Free.

They free the thousands of souls from the crypt, far too drained to think of the consequences past they're innocent in all this. The Gur outside are (rightfully, Yan agrees when he can breathe again) upset at this but let them past, having fulfilled the promise to end Cazador. The walk through the mansion with the knowledge of the vile torture (that happened to your love) that went on inside those walls weighing so heavily on Yandarai's heart.

Karlach insists they have a drink in the Elfsong proper before going back to their rooms, all so proud of Astarion even if they'd never say it.

And then Astarion asks Yandarai if they can take a walk together. So he can show him something Important.

How could he say no to him? Even if it is just a cover to go kiss in the moonlight, Yandarai would gladly go along with any excuse.

Until they come to the Grave.

Astarion Ancunin. 

Only thirty-nine years.

Yandarai isnt sure how old he is, since the Feywild moves at whatever pace it feels like. He could have been born 1000 of Faerun’s years ago, or the day before he stepped through the portal out of his home realm and right into the mind flayer attack. But he Knows that thirty nine years is Nothing compared to 200 of pain and suffering and knowing you’ll never escape.

The gentle look on Astarion’s face as he carves his new death date in the stone makes Yan’s heart skip.

They kiss and hold eachother close right there, Yan whispering reassurances and praises into skin. He’d rather not be making love in the middle of a graveyard - his coat was expensive and gravedirt is so hard to wash out -  but it seems they just weren’t meant to have each other in a bed (or even inside) just yet. Frankly they could have just shared a chaste kiss and then headed back and Yan would have been ecstatic, but the trust and care and Love Astarion is showing in this moment with him, baring himself on his own grave to Yandarai is something he’ll never forget or be able to reciprocate. 

They head back and brush off what they can, trying to act casual around the others and less like they’d almost been caught by a mortarch fucking on a recently vandalised grave. As funny as it would be to see how they would talk themselves out of being shamed and kicked out, he was in far too much of a sappy mood for it to be ruined like that.  

He might be slightly possessive over the vampire spawn at times, but only in the sense that he doesn’t want anything bad to happen to him (or for anyone else to touch him or even look at him slightly funny) a little more intensely than he feels about the rest of the group.

But Astarion can look after himself just fine, and is his own man for the first time in two hundred years. He’s allowed to do what he wants! As long as he can watch and keep kissing him in the middle of exploring horrible deadly places as shadowheart makes a gagging noise and jaihera rolls her eyes at the sickening display of affection

(In another timeline where Astarion went through with the ritual, Yandarai can no longer look him in the eye after the man gives him the ultimatum, become his spawn forever and always be seen as degrading himself for the Vampire Lord or break it off and part ways once the Elder Brain is dead. The Astarion of that time is not the man he could tell he loved. Not the man who could have truly loved him back.)

The long slog of battles to gain access to the upper city is dark, the amount of bodies piling up by the minute. It’s only made bearable by the times they eat dinner together in the little pit of the room, Astarion’s thighs pressed against his own as they sit in a mound of pillows and he complains his cup is empty. 

[springcatalyst]

*FACE AGAINST THE GLASS OF YOUR SCREEN* Bound, break, hate, midnight for Julian?????????????? 👁👁💕💘💗💘💗Please💗💕💞💞💘💞💗💞

YESSSS THANK YOU BESTIE!! I HATE HIM (I LVOE HIM)

Bound: Has your OC ever been imprisoned or captured? What happened? How did they get out? Did the experience leave any scars?

Ok not conclusively... but maybe? The only reason anyone has to fuck with Julian is to get at Liliana, because sorry he's just not that important. You have to want something to capture someone, anything else and why not just beat him or kill him, ya feel? But I think it'd be fun for me personally.

Break: What would cause your OC to break down completely? What do they look like when that happens? Has anyone ever seen them at their lowest?

It would take something... something that he wouldn't expect to matter. Losing himself, or losing one of the few people he genuinely cares for, would destabilize an already unstable foundation. Real fear, too, gets at him. He's not afraid of pain and he's not afraid of death, which means he usually looks fearless or foolish or both, but it also means he doesn't really know what to do with genuine fear. He thinks he's invincible, thinks that he's mastered the art of remaining unaffected, but that's not even a LITTLE BIT true. Unfortunately for everyone around him, 'breaking down' now looks like getting really, really defensive. An already short fuse gets shorter and shorter the more unraveled and/or upset he becomes, which makes it impossible to deescalate. He lashes out at anyone in the vicinity, but if given the chance, he will retreat away, alone. Alone is his natural state, and the one he's most comfortable with, and it means unobserved, which is integral to the kind of breakdown he's privy to.

Arguably the only person that's ever seen him like this, though, is Diana, just because they grew up together. She was there before he was quite so defensive, before he protected his pride with his life. Still rare, though, because he always ran away.

Hate: What does your OC hate? Why? How do they act towards the object of their hatred?

God. He hates people that wound his pride, he hates people that condescend and patronize and it doesn't even have to be directed at him this time, he hates people who act like they follow different rules than everyone else which is HILARIOUS because HE does that!! He's such a fucking hypocrite and you know what? He also hates hypocrites. He hates cruelty without purpose which, also funny, because he is far from a nice person, but there's a certain line to cross. And depending on the severity of who he's dealing with, he ranges from a little harsher than usual to a straight up knife fight. There are many a man with whom he does not get along, but is in a situation where he can't just say fuck em and leave, so he's just really blunt and snippy and short when necessary interactions do happen. Like, you can tell he doesn't like you, but what are you gonna do about it? He's begging for them to start a fight.

Midnight: What keeps your OC up at night? Do they have nightmares? Fears? Anxieties? What do they do in the small hours of the morning when they should be sleeping?

Ah, well. He's kinda haunted but in a way that he doesn't even really know by what. It's more a feeling, he's not self-aware enough to connect the dots. He's restless, like there's something left incomplete. He constantly feels like he needs to get away from everything, it's part of the reason he never stays in one place, or even on one ship, for very long. Being around one group of people for too long feels like they're gonna start noticing things, patterns, pieces of something he'd rather stay secret. And then in those wanderings he finds himself amidst crews of people who are actually dangerous, actually cruel, and what was once just an itchy instability of character becomes caution and uncertainty and an odd sort of alienation. It reinforces the idea that he is safest when he is alone, and nighttime is a period where he is guaranteed that.

[lavenelle]

Haru

Scent: Cherry blossom, mimosa, hemlock, and bergamot. 

“I told you we have an image to uphold!” Haru’s father shouts at her as soon as the doors are closed; the paper stings as he slaps her across the face with her report card. 

How dare she not get all As? How dare she not live up to his expectations? 

She waits a few moments after he slams the door to her room shut before she begins to cry. Five minutes, she tells herself. Then she has to wipe the tears away and study till her eyes can no longer stay open. 

She’s barrelling towards burnout; she can feel it bubbling under the surface. Irritable and snippy, jealousy is taking hold of her psyche as she sees her classmates score higher than her, gaining praise from others. Still, she tries– but it’s a losing battle. She knows it deep down. She’s not like her peers. She can’t remember dates, she can’t pull obscure knowledge from thin air, and she has trouble keeping numbers straight. During tests, her heart rate spikes, everything becomes a blur, and it feels as if all her thoughts, all the words, images, and memories just leech from her mind like water through a sieve. Then its times up, and she has nothing to show for those endless nights of studying without sleep. 

She can’t take it anymore. Before she even steps into the entryway, she can see the bruises start to form, and she can feel the heat left by the hands of her father. But she wasn’t prepared for him to look at her with complete apathy. His eyes are void of all emotion as he walks right past her, never speaking a word to her again. 

“I’m an omega.” 

When Haru presents, it’s like her world–  hundreds of scattered puzzle pieces– begin to snap into place. By now, she’s been forgotten. She takes money out of her parent’s wallets whenever she needs it, and she never studies, going through the motions till she can graduate high school. She replaces cram school and late nights studying with a job at a bar, lying on the application. When she graduates, she skips the pleasantries and the afterparties. Having already booked an appointment downtown, she gets her first three tattoos that night, with more to follow soon after. She moves out and gets a roommate and a friend from work. They make her feel safe. Safer than anyone else. Everyone at the bar does. She comes clean to them, about her age, and surprisingly keeps her job. Her boss says it’s because she’s a draw, but she knows he would be lost without her, she’s lasted the longest of all his employees. She has long blonde hair at the moment and likes to wear tight clothes and high heels. She knows she can draw them in too, and if she bats her eyes and pads her bra, she’ll get more tips. But she’ll never sleep with them, won’t even take the bait when they ask for a sniff when half-drunk.  

But she’s still an omega. 

The heats are unbearable for her, and taking time off to deal with them consistently eats into her bank account. So she has a system. When she feels that itch and starts to feel the fever creep up. When her customers complement her unique scent a little too much. When she can feel the gaze of others linger as she walks home at night. She goes out, looking for a quick fix, a one-night stay at a hotel or someone’s bed. But she’s still picky, she won’t fuck just anyone. If they’re cute enough and call her pretty, she’ll be more than glad to share a night with them, but never a morning. She doesn’t want to know their hobbies or job and doesn’t care about their fears or dreams. It’s just for the sake of convenience and maybe a little bit of a game. Though sometimes, when she talks to her patrons when she hears their stories of “love at first sight,” she can’t help but feel that jealousy bubble up from underneath the surface once again. But she blocks it all out, the sound of her father yelling disrupting her thoughts. 

She has her own dreams. 

She tells her new roommate as they move in his things. He’s a recent hire, but she still feels like she can be around him. But when asked what they are, she can’t name them. So maybe, she’s still a bit lost about her place in this world. She’s young, and she’s still spent more than half her life being told what to do than deciding it on her own. She’s still a part of Fenglan, though she doubts if many people could recognize her now. Though her scent would give her away, bergamot was more masculine, more associated with alphas, and hemlock on its own smelled like rot. In the wild, it was poisonous; inhaling too much could kill. Yet when mixed with mimosa and cherry blossom, they became softer, like a flowery bouquet tinged with a hint of danger. The anxiety of anyone acknowledging her past makes her anxious. She passes by a mirror in the bathroom of a club and stares; she changed her hair again– maybe she needs a new tattoo? Maybe that would put her mind at ease? She’s wearing lingerie over a t-shirt dress with black knee-high socks and platforms that make her four inches taller. There’s no way anyone could recognize her. Yet it eats away at her as she looks into the eyes of a stranger, looking for any faint recognition before she pulls them in for a kiss. Maybe she has no dreams, she thinks, maybe she’s just living one day to the next in the hope of inspiration to strike like lightening. 

[warlordfelwinter]

being dm is fun because it's impossible to plan everything or predict what players are going to do and sometimes they just Gift you situations and sometimes during those situations you have a seredipitous realization that allows you to put a lord of the nine down under the column labelled Active Enemies of the Party

[foldingfittedsheets]

The Baker’s Book

Once upon a time, in a beautiful prosperous kingdom of rich rolling hills full of rollicking lambs and fertile fields, a baker lived with her beautiful daughter. The baker was bent, old, and impossibly ugly. But her baking could make grown men weep with joy. She was grouchy and snippy, pained by her joints. She never took special requests. What she produced was what was available, but even not knowing what she might have that day people traveled all over the kingdom to buy her breads, tarts, and pastries. They never liked to linger there, though, unless her beautiful daughter was minding the shop where she lived with her mother.

The girl was like a ray of sunshine, filling every room with a wonderful warm energy. Patrons would sigh over the waterfall of her honey-colored hair and swoon at her dimpled smile. Unless her mother was looking. Then they kept their eyes down and left swiftly with confections held close to their hearts. It seemed strange though, some remarked, that the beautiful girl was never seen making any of the dough, or rolling pastry, or filling tarts. She hauled wood for the ovens, swept the floor clean of flour, and washed their dirty aprons, but she was never allowed to touch her mother’s beloved old cookbook. The book in question was as battered and ugly as the woman herself.

One day, the baker was called from her home. A special messenger from the king himself arrived, with a beautifully appointed coach. Grumbling and grousing she roused herself. She called her daughter to attention and rasped, “Mind the shop, I will be back soon. Whatever you do, don’t touch my book.” Then she clambered up into the coach, looking shabby against its elegant finish, and was soon speeding off down the road.

Her daughter did mean to obey. She swept. She hauled wood. She snuck the last blackberry tart and nibbled carefully while she folded the sun-dried linens. And then she leapt up in surprise, guilty crumbs caught in the corners of her beautiful mouth, when she heard a voice calling at the front of the shop. She rushed inside and saw a stunning young man, his black hair caught back in an elegant silver clasp. He asked for blackberry tarts. She looked with agony at the now empty display, but she couldn’t bear to disappoint this, the loveliest young man she’d ever seen.

“I’m making more now!” she chirped. “Come back in an hour’s time and they will be hot from the oven!” And so, he went away.

She snatched up her mother’s book, the last of the blackberries, and the flour. She read the first line, tracing the words on the page. Then she began to crumble the butter into flour, mixing the dough, just as it said. It seemed easy work, but her hands soon began to ache. She flipped the page to next step of the recipe, cooking down the blackberries with sugar while her dough rested. She was almost winded as she stirred, silently blessing her odd mother who never let her help surely because of how exhausting baking was. Hauling wood was much easier. Swiping her hair from her face she read, rolling her pastry thin, but not too thin just as it said in the battered book. She then placed the little cases near the oven’s lip to dry just a little. She felt drowsy with the heat, staying on her feet through sheer will. Finally, she filled all the cases and set them to bake. Closing the heavy iron door to the oven seemed to take the last bit of her strength.

She saw the handsome young man coming back, feeling a spark of delight at the sight of him. With a hasty shove she pushed the ugly battered recipe book under the counter. Her mother was away, so she let him inside, saying the tarts would be done soon. And because her mother was away, she leaned closer, batting her lovely blue eyes at him as they spoke. And perhaps if her mother hadn’t been away, she wouldn’t have led him upstairs to enjoy together the freshly made bed with the sun-dried sheets holding the scent of the honey soap she used. But she did.

Afterward, they dozed. She woke before him, stiff from the unexpected work and the following activity. She tottered down the stairs, feeling achy, to pull the tarts from the oven. The smell was heavenly, each glazed tart shimmered in their heat and beauty. She smiled, sitting in her mother’s rocking chair just to rest her feet. Shortly, the man descended as well.

He was sniffing the air appreciatively when he saw her, jumping guiltily to attention. “Excuse me,” he said, “I didn’t think you were home. I was just-- well, I was. Uh-- I wanted to buy a batch of blackberry tarts?”

She looked at him, her brow wrinkling, “Yes, I know, here they are for you.” And with a sudden trickle of foreboding, she recognized the rasp in her voice. He paid and left. She rose, moving slowly across the room to their small mirror. There she beheld a face wrinkled and twisted, ugly and familiar. Slow tears traversed the new wrinkles on her cheeks as her hands shakily explored her new face.

Once upon a time, there was an ugly baker-- and her beautiful daughter, a lovely blonde babe who never cried, only smiled at patrons who came from all over the kingdom to taste her mother’s delicious and perfect pastries.

[mielmoto]

@dcviated​​ asked:

👀 for luccy dee and elijah?

How my muse sees yours & what they think of when they look at them. | accepting.

Looking at Elijah is, in a lot of ways, looking at a kindred spirit. a soul sister. clumsy, energetic, and prone to wild ups-and-downs in terms of mood and expression from moment to moment? they aren’t identical, of course, but they have enough in common that Honey sees Malkuth as someone who sort of gets her in a way that a lot of people don’t. 

mind you, Honey isn’t really bothered too much when people write her off as silly or dramatic, when they roll their eyes and (even lovingly, at times), say she’s “too much”– because on some level she knows they’re right, and even likes being a bit of a ‘character’ in their eyes– but, all the same... when she sees Elijah, she knows that she can be as over-the-top as she’s inclined to be, and she won’t have to suffer any patronizing, humoring, or snobbery for it. Elijah meets her on the same level and rolls with the punches. A treasure.

Also! She thinks of all the absolutely wacky shit she’s been wanting to try making in the kitchen because Elijah eat just about anything– such an excited, willing test subject taste-tester is super rare to find. Not about to let this one slip away easily, no-sirree.

ah.... Diluc... first and foremost, it’s no funny little act that she’s just putting on for the sake of a laugh: Honey really does think Diluc’s in the top echelons of wooable babes in the world. He’s just got so, so much going right for him– everything from the beautiful, long, ruby-red hair, his imposing stature, and the mysterious, snippy, serious demeanor to match... But, bear in mind, she’s not exactly exclusive in those affections. Sure, she’s down horrendous for him in a way that isn’t rivalled by many, but her thoughts wouldn’t be worth mentioning if general attraction was where the story ended.

Honey thinks Diluc is funny. Really, truly, and sincerely. She adores the way he delivers subtly-scathing remarks with a completely straight face, and loves watching the jabs sail riiiiiiight over the heads of the people who are too eager to get in his good graces, to make an impression, to notice he’s dunking on them. Sure, she’ll make a fuss and act wounded when he treats her with the same cool nonchalance, but really, she loves it all the same; which is probably why she doesn’t take any of it to heart. 

She loves teasing him, and being exactly as flirtatious and overbearing as she is, precisely because she can tell it does fluster him sometimes– a little crack in that unerring, somewhat-posh, and thoroughly disciplined mask he has on all the time. 

Perhaps, because, when she looks at him, she sees someone who is still so young. Just like her. Someone who should be making foolish decisions and getting into ridiculous hijinks, spending time with friends, and generally goofing off a whole helluva lot more than he does. He has a tremendous amount of responsibility, and she knows that. He wears a heavy weight of past on his shoulders, of expectations– and, in some way, Honey wonders if when she’s looking at him, she isn’t looking at a reflection of some other way her life might have gone. If she’d taken up her father’s place at the shrine, when he passed, instead of running off like she did... 

a strange thought. she doesn’t dwell on that one too much.

at any rate, she likes seeing him. she enjoys his company. and whether or not it’s at her expense: she hopes she can make him laugh, make him smile, even just a little bit more than usual. she thinks he deserves it.

[samwrights]

Plastic Flowers [ 3 ]

Chapter 3: When My Mind is Uncertain, My Body Decides

Warnings: Language

Escaping from the orphanage, the Exemplary Home for Girls, at a young age, Hitoko “Kohta” Ohta was never very good at socialization, especially considering the copious amounts of bullying and hateful remarks she received for being ‘quirkless’ and having such a volatile soulmate mark. If the children she grew up with knew that she was running a cafe and bar, they would all be shocked at her running such a social career. While she was fairing well, deep down Kohta knew handling certain situations was still incredibly difficult for her. So when she was met with her soulmate once again, Hitoko could only speak what was on her mind with no filter. “Didn’t I tell you I never wanted to see you ever again?”

Katsuki was taken aback at the bite of her words. That...wasn’t how he pictured this conversation was going to go. The two of them were soulmates—shouldn’t this woman be falling to her knees and kissing his feet like his fans? How was he supposed to react to her abrasive nature? The only way he knew how, obviously. By getting angry, or rather snarky. “Yeah yeah, whatever. You knew that wasn’t going to be our last encounter, soulmate.” The word slipped from his lips with such distaste. Hearing the word so spitefully filled Kohta’s chest with dread, a small frown tugging at her lips. In this current moment, she could feel her deep rooted fear of an ill relationship with her soulmate coming to fruition, but did her best to ignore the heavy feeling. Not like she wasn’t goading it with her own negative contributions.

“I don’t really care.” Kohta replies as nonchalantly she could muster, turning her attention back to her other bar guests as an attempt to look away from his unnerving crimson eyes. She wished she hadn’t. Apparently her regulars had heard the “S” word slip from the blonde’s mouth, now each of them were overzealous and filled with excitement.

“Oh, come on Kohta! Give him a chance!” One of her regulars jeered, causing her to roll her violet eyes. If she did not dearly love the older gentleman sitting at her bar top, she would have tossed his old graying ass out for making any form of commentary. But the man had been coming to her for as long as she had open; she could almost consider the nameless man a friend. Almost.

“Fine, what do you want?” Her arms folded over her chest impatiently as she stared at Bakugo. She couldn’t explain to herself, or anyone else for that matter, the sudden change in mood from jovial to hostile or why her soulmates presence pissed her off so much. Most likely due to him being the reason she had to close for so long, or least that’s how she rationalized it in her own mind. Being so out of touch with her emotions, it was challenging for Kohta to understand that her response to fear was anger, very much like the young, scowling blonde mad that stood in front of her.

“Just another round for Eijiro and I.” For what was probably the first time that he could ever recall, Bakugo was intimidated. It wasn’t that Kohta was scary, but the fact that she was just so brash and short with him left him the slightest bit of discomfort. What if...what if they really didn’t end up bonding and he did end up completely losing his quirk? No matter how much Bakugo tried, he could not parish that thought from rearing its ugly head over and over. When the brunette returned with two tall beers, Katsuki made sure to leave twenty five hundred yen on the counter, a small token of kindness, in attempt to soften her seemingly stone heart. Confused, Hitoko looked at him with furrowed brows.

“It’s only twelve hundred?”

“The rest is for you. Come find me when you can catch a break.” Was all he said before fleeing back to his table over where the pool table once stood and returning to his now seated best friend. As Hitoko stood completely dumbfounded, her regulars sitting at the bar top began hollering and cheering at the gesture of goodwill. Flustered, she turned away, putting the entirety of the bill into the register without taking the change out of the drawer as a security measure. Kohta began wiping down her counters, trying to ignore the words of encouragement coming from her customers to take a break and spend some time with her newly discovered soulmate. As if they couldn’t notice she was still ignoring the blonde.

“Come on, Kohta go talk to him!” One of her female patrons shouted, her husband clapping her on the back in pride as she spoke. The brunette only laughed it off, telling them teasingly to quit it before she cut them off for the evening. She didn’t want to talk to him; she was still inexplicably angry with him and the fact that he had the audacity to show up in her cafe after being kicked out was the icing on the cake for Kohta. While neither the brunette woman or the blonde man could believe the other was their predetermined life partner, whatever omniscient power up above that branded them as such must have been laughing at the two of them—their stubbornness and temper only a taste of their similarities. It was only a matter of time until they discovered that.

“Dude, will you quit looking so antsy?” Kirishima asked his best friend out of annoyance and concern. Since Bakugo had returned from the counter, the blonde had not stopped fidgeting once. He was constantly tapping his fingers along the wooden top of the table, checking over his shoulder, and anxiously bouncing his foot on the footrest of the bar stool he sat upon. “She’ll come to you.”

“Tch.” Katsuki let out a click of his tongue before letting his nervous ticks continued to get the best of him. “Why would I care if that shitty girl comes to talk to me or not?” Kirishima grimaced, the red head resting his chin on his palm as he looked to his friend in worry. Despite nearly two months passing since the soulmates had their first encounter, Eijiro noticed the most subtle changes in Ground Zero's behavior. With him being more on edge, Bakugo was more irritable than normal. And while Eijiro was no therapist, he had no doubt meeting his soulmate was stressing Katsuki out. If it were only an internal issue, Kirishima might not have been as worried as he was. But considering that the blonde hero's explosions were slowly weakening, as he learned from a recent training session, and he started losing control over them—Kirishima knew Kohta and Bakugo needed to at least talk, and soon.

"Hey, Kohta. Nice to see you again." Speak of the devil, Kirishima thought. The red head responded nonchalantly, not picking his head up from its rested position as the owner casually sauntered over.

"Thought I told you little shits to never come back to my bar, Kiri." The brunette woman's tone wasn't as snippy as it had been before. While Kirishima could tell she was joking, Bakugo looked as rigid as ever at the sound of his soulmate's voice. It wasn't as whimsical as he had imagined, now that Bakugo was truly listening. Picking it apart, he noticed her voice had much more soprano to it than he remembered, almost as if it wasn't as feminine as his memory recalled. It was almost off-putting; or rather Bakugo was searching for reasons as to why he had chosen not to pursue his soulmate. In his own mind, it was his choice as to why they weren't bonded—there was no way she chose it to be so. Every girl wanted him, Kohta was and would be no different.

"Yeah, yeah." Red Riot waved his hand in disregard before sitting up straight. "I don't think I had the chance to properly introduce you two last time." Kirishima would be damned if he wouldn't be a proper wing-man to his best friend, especially in such a crucial moment. "Kohta, this is my friend Katsuki Bakugo. And Bakubro, this is Hitoko Ohta."

"My friends call me Kohta." By now, the brunette was leaning on her elbows atop the boys' table, taking up the space to assert her presence. It seemed she was more willing to cooperate, to them at least, but by no means was Kohta going to play nice. "For now, you can call me Ohta." A click of Bakugo's tongue left his throat as a sign of frustration. He knew what she was doing—attempting to establish her dominance. If she thought she was calling shots in this relationship before they had even bonded, he would need to put her in her place. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" Kohta droned sardonically as her dull purple eyes flickered between the two pro heroes.

"Just grabbing a drink, is that a crime?" Bakugo drawled, taking a sip of his tall beer.

"Funny that you come here of all places." Kirishima looked at Bakugo in expectance, as if trying to lead him into speaking with his own soulmate. How had this stupid man been top of the class at one point, the red head wondered. For someone so book smart and academically disciplined, Bakugo was incredibly dense. When Ground Zero said nothing, the red head interjected to keep conversation going.

"Well, Bakugo here didn't really get much of a chance to talk to you last time. I figured you two needed some time to chat." The unbound pair both snapped their attention to the red head, Katsuki giving him a glare harder than Red Riot's quirk, while Kohta just looked nearly disgusted. The thought of forced conversation that lead to feelings of any kind made her cringe.

"We don't need you to hook us up, ass hat." Bakugo snarled, the collective pronoun not going unnoticed by the other man at the table. However, Kohta stayed quiet as she felt the power of her quirk beginning to wane. When she glanced over, she could see the lifelike qualities in her favorite mannequin, Jiroda, was beginning to dull. The movements of the doll were becoming more stiff and rigid, her skin was losing color and beginning to shift to the cloth texture of the mannequin she was created from. Kohta needed to put the doll to rest, and fast.

"He's right, Kiri. If we want to bond, we'll figure it out. But right now, I gotta go." She said hastily before heading back to the bar counter. The boys watched her as she left, Katsuki not missing the motion of a male patron’s hand gently caressing the curve of her ass under her black skater dress as she walked by their table. Out of instinct, Bakugo stood up, though he was unsure where the sudden urge to deck the guy in the teeth came from. Before he could even take a step in her direction, Kohta stopped and snapped her head around, a fierce burn in her eyes as she glared. "Can I help you?" She seethed, poison dripping from every letter.

The man she turned to face was an older gentleman, possibly ten years her senior, with a salaciously wicked grin on his face. "Maybe. I know I can definitely help you." Kohta let out a quiet snarl as her heart raced with rage.

"You got thirty seconds to leave before I force your ass out of here." She bit back.

"What are you gonna do about it, princess?" The man sneered again, standing to tower over her. In addition to his age, the nameless man before her had a good two feet on her height, as well as at least a hundred and fifty pounds on her. Needless to say, he could kick Kohta's bony ass without a doubt. Still, Kohta wasn't going to let this perverted old man who stroked her bottom do that to her in her own bar. Despite the nearly depleted energy of her quirk, Kohta attempted to summon a male mannequin to act as a body guard for her, but she failed to feel the metaphorical thread connecting her to an inanimate doll in her utility closet.

"I think the lady asked you to leave." The gruff voice of Bakugo could be heard from behind the bar owner as he gripped her shoulder tightly, his calloused fingers digging into the bare skin of her arm. Hitoko turned around to see the blonde bomber standing mere inches away from her, a cross look on his face. "You might wanna scram, cocksucker." The older man just let out a scoff before reaching for Kohta's wrist.

"Let me know when you're done playing with boys—you look like you could use a real man in your life." Before anybody could blink, Katsuki grabbed the man's arm that was reaching for his soulmate with bone-cracking force.  The nameless man began barking at the blonde to let him go, though neither he or his soulmate paid attention.

"I've got this, Hitoko." Bakugo's voice was low and thick with anticipation. She was torn between going to get her slowly crumbling mannequin away from public eyes, but Kohta very much wanted to see a fight break out between her soulmate and this creep. With her better judgment, she reached a thin hand up on her shoulder to take Bakugo's hand off of her shoulder.

"Just throw him outside; I don't need you wrecking my bar again." Kohta paused before looking at the nameless man once again. "Thanks for taking out the trash for me." As soon as she walked off to deal with her issue with her quirk, Katsuki faced the man once again before reaching for the collar of his shirt.

"Well you heard the lady, let’s go."

"If you think I'm going anywhere with you kid, forget it." With fast acting reflexes, a small explosion went off in Bakugo's free hand before he slammed the pervert's head onto the wooden table he sat at.

"It wasn't a fucking suggestion. Now get the fuck out of here!" His patience was running very thin, almost to complete nonexistence as he picked the guy up by the collar. A bit of blood stained the table from where the man had hit his head, which Kohta would have his head for, but Katsuki didn't care—this scum of a bastard touched his soulmate. The bar was entirely silent as the blonde bomber carried this man, whom despite being at least double his overall size, straight to the front door and tossed him into the street. Stomping forward, Bakugo gave a swift kick to the stomach to the nameless man left on his hands and knees. "I don't ever want to see your fucking face in here again. And if I ever see your grimy hands on my soulmate ever again," by now, Ground Zero was crouching in front of the creep, who was now overwhelmed with fear and fright. "I will fucking kill you."

When he reentered the bar, an uproar of applause greeted Bakugo, much to his surprise. He had just assaulted a patron of the bar—why were people clapping? The act in of itself should have disturbed him. He was a professional hero, the number two in Japan. And he had just hit an "innocent bystander", so to speak. So why was he filled with undeniable rage at this man who had caressed a woman's butt in public under the skirt of her dress? Because it was wrong, he reasoned. It was sexual assault, unwanted advancements. He would have done it for anybody had he been a witness. It had nothing to do with the fact that this salacious man touched his soulmate. Speaking of which, where was that irritating woman? Crimson eyes scanned the bar top, behind the espresso bar, and out into the cafe; the brunette was no where to be found at the current moment.

"She's in the back, dearie." An older woman called out to him from the bar top. A grumble let Katsuki's lips as he pushed through the swinging door. He wasn't sure what to expect, never actually having been behind the scenes to retail since he started his pro career, but a stairwell to his right, another swinging door to the left and a utility closet dead ahead of him was not what he thought would be there. The utility closet was open, and while he couldn't quite make out what was in there, he could see the hem of Kohta's skirt, her slightly tanned and tattooed legs, as well as her black leather boots.

"Hey, Hitoko!" Katsuki didn't want to startle her, especially after such an incident. Her head whipped around at breakneck speed, her glasses nearly flying off her face.

"Who said you could come back here?!" Panic and alarm coated each of Kohta's words as she put away one of the now blank mannequins she was just using her quirk on. Hoping that Bakugo couldn't see into the dark room, she carefully stepped out before slamming the door shut and locking the closet with the keys that hung around her neck on a lanyard. The heavy breathing that left Kohta's lungs did not go amiss by the blonde as he carefully approached her, despite the heavy scowl on his face and everything in him telling him to run.

"I just wanted to check on you, shit head."

"Well, a-as you can see I'm perfectly fine, so can you please just—"

"You're hiding something."

Hitoko Ohta and Katsuki Bakugo stood in the interconnected stairwell in the back of house foyer of the Upside Down, staring at each other in an uncomfortable manor. The man had accused his soulmate of hiding something, not just from him, but maybe herself and the entirety of society. Kohta looked as if she were going to cry, her anxiety raising her heart rate as she feared her soulmate would learn of her slowly weakening quirk. The quirk she had lied about ever having—and now she could barely hold one mannequin for more than twenty minutes. Crazy to think just a month or so ago, she was able to control six dolls to such a grandiose heist; now it was taxing to even do one. "I-I'm not hiding anything." She stumbled.

"Yeah, you are." Katsuki snarled lowly. Every step he took closer, she took one step back. It was the first time he took notice to how intimidated she truly was by him. Which, in his mind, didn't make sense. She was bold and brash and didn't take shit from anyone, much like himself. But now here she stood with her back to the utility closet door, and Katsuki blocking her exit. He felt...guilty. Or maybe it was shame? Shame that he was the one scaring his soulmate this much. "Look," his voice dropped its usual bite. "You don't have to tell me now. But you will, eventually."

"And how can you be so sure?" She bit back. With Kohta feeling backed into a corner, her fight or flight response began kicking in. With no where to run, she had to retaliate.

"Because we're soulmates, idiot!" A small gasp left the brunette woman's lips as Bakugo grabbed her shoulders tightly. And despite the volume that his voice crescendoed to, there was no hostility in his tone. As her ears processed his words, he almost sounded as if he were imploring her. "It might not be a big deal to you, with you being quirkless and shit, but this creates a problem for me. So I have to know," Katsuki's head was hanging low enough that his blonde strands tickled her cheeks, muffling his words slightly. Still, Kohta could hear him clear as day with how close they were. She was gnashing on the skin of her lips as a nervous habit. "Will you at least try this out?"

"'This'?"

"Us, idiot. Don't make me fucking spell it out for you." Katsuki grit his teeth, feeling absolutely weak. He felt stupid, embarrassed, small, every negative emotion under the sun—he felt ever fiber, every cell of it down to the core of his being. "I-I won't be able to be a pro anymore. I'm starting to lose control of my quirk because we haven't established our bond." With his voice barely above a whisper, he bared the raw emotion that coursed through his veins. Even more so, Kohta could actually feel it. She figured it was mostly due to their close proximity, owing none of it to the fact that their souls were resonating on an ethereal plane.

"F-fine." Her word faltered as spoke, attempting to sound stern or even annoyed, rather than the fright that actually came through. "So how do we do this?" Her question was innocent enough; being an orphan, Kohta never got a formal education aside from the basics of language and arithmatic, especially after she escaped from the home. She never received sexual education which, by national and international standard, included how to solidify soulmate bonds. Not that she tried to soothe her curiosity or seek out her own answers, but she refused to take responsibility for that.

"Wait, are you shitting me?" Katsuki asked. How did she not know?! But she was merely silent, looking at him completely deadpanned. "Fuck, you're serious." He grumbled. By now, his crimson eyes were staring into hers, the hue reflecting in her large glasses. "Fuck, okay. You have to tell me now if there's any bit of doubt that you wanna do this." Between his sentences, Bakugo let out small aggravated sighs. What omniscient, all-knowing being was laughing at him, he wondered. Not only did his soulmate not like him, he had to entirely explain the concept and process of their predestined partnership to her.

"Of course I have doubts about this." Kohta said finally, gently picking his large hands off of her shoulders. While still scared, she stood tall and stared at him with bravery burning in her violet orbs. "I never went to school, never had crushes on boys, I don't even fully know how a soulmate partnership works—just that everyone has one and about the markings. Otherwise, I have been on my own for the last ten years, and I've been getting by just fine. But," Kohta gingerly took his calloused hands in her own, holding them very loosely only by his pinkies. "You're my soulmate, right? I trust that you wouldn't intentionally threaten me, I guess. And if you do, well…" Her voice dropped a couple octaves as she broke eye contact with him. “I’m a glutton for punishment; I’ve always been hellbent on self destruction.”

Bakugo wasn't sure if it was her defining words that caused his next actions, or if it was the ever growing anticipation is what did him in. But one moment, the two of them were hand in hand, the next his hands were holding her hips and his lips were on hers with bruising force. A fire ignited within the two of them individually as the burning pain of their soulmate marks finally dulled. At first, Kohta wasn't sure where to place her hands, but finally settled for wrapping them cautiously around his neck. Katsuki had never felt such an electrifying feeling in his life—and he had been shocked by Denki. With a hunger burning in his belly, he pulled himself as close as he physically could to Kohta, overwhelmed with the need to nearly suck the life out of her.

Kohta threaded thin fingers into his messy blonde locks at the nape of his neck when she felt his tongue tentatively lap at her lower lip. A grumble of pleasure erupted in her throat; is this what it felt like to be kissed? Why hadn't she done this sooner? Had she known, she would have made out with every remotely attractive guy she had close encounters with. Despite how incredibly riled up she became as Katsuki's tongue tangled with hers, Kohta could feel her lungs begging for air. Finally giving in to her need for oxygen, she pulled away breathless and panting.

"You feel that?" Bakugo asked in between his own attempts at catching his breath. When Kohta didn't reply, the blonde gestured down to his left arm where his nearly full red soulmate mark was receding into a faint scar at a snails pace. It was a minute detail, but one he noticed immediately.

"I-I don't get it." Hitoko whispered quietly before looking at her own words, noticing hers began to mirror his.

"The marks start out like black tattoos." For the first time since meeting him, Hitoko heard Bakugo speak without malice or voraciousness marring his words—it was the first time she heard his actual voice. Maybe it was the hormones clouding her thoughts, but she wanted to hear him speak more, even if it were nonsense. To her, his voice held a pleasantly domineering tone. "When soulmates meet, it becomes white and slowly fades into a deep red the longer they go without bonding. We almost ran out of time."

"What would have happened if the whole thing turned red?"

"Loss of control over my quirk was part of it. Some people go crazy if they never bond, some kill themselves." Oh, Hitoko thought. The morose thought of suicide over not bonding with a soulmate seemed like an extremity. Then again, what did she know? Nothing, considering she had never sought out more knowledge on this topic in hopes it would contribute to her avoidance in meeting her own predestined partner.

"So...now what?" Momentarily forgetting that Kohta wasn't educated on the subject, Katsuki rubbed his eyes vigorously in irritation. Truly, he wanted to avoid having to explain the entirety of bonding to her and he would be damned if he had to do it right this second.

"I really don't want to fucking explain this right now." Bakugo said bluntly, though the gruffness had yet to return to his voice. It was...strange. His entire life, he had been so angry, so volatile towards anyone and any thing. But as he stood here, even with such a daunting task at hand, he lacked his typical hostility. For once, he felt calm. "How about you and I talk about this some other time when you aren't supposed to be working?" Realization slapped Kohta in the face—shit how long had the two of them been in the back room?!

"Oh, fuck." She muttered before attempting to regain her composure. "You're right, we'll deal with this later. Now get out of my back room, Bakugo." Blood pounded in his ears as his name left her lips. Despite his previous gripes about how her voice was far from his imagination, his name sounded like a delicacy coming off her tongue. Why did it sound so right, he wondered, as she was nearly out the swinging door in front of them that lead back to the cafe.

"Hitoko." Still using his natural, smooth timbre, Bakugo called out to the brunette woman while trying to grasp one of her wrists that was closest to him. He managed to pull her back to him, effectively spinning her around to face him once more. "It's Katsuki." Was all he said before he leaned down and planted his lips on hers once again. He wasn't sure why he did it, or who was even controlling his actions at this point anymore. It didn't really matter who, it just felt right to him.

The kiss this time around was much more brief, only lasting a fleeting moment before Katsuki pulled away and let Hitoko go. Instead of being flustered as she was previously, she was grinning at him with her prominent cheek bones lifting up her glasses slightly. "Hey, Katsuki. It's Ohta to you." Was all she said before exiting the small conjoining room, leaving him a brush bitter. He would be damned to the ninth layer in hell if she thought he was going to call his soulmate by such a formal, unfamiliar name.

By such a temporary name.

That name was going to change one day.

Plastic Flowers Masterlist

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Thank you guys for checking out this story! I’ll be updating the chapters every Saturday! Chapter title taken from The Front Bottom’s song “The Plan (Fuck Jobs) off their album “Back On Top”.

Taglist:

@wwwwyamd

[gay-fae]

This is a mini-vent about racism.

So I’m from California, but I’m currently visiting a very pro-Tr*mp “redneck” part of the country.

Lemme just preface this by saying that I, myself, have never faced racism/prejudice because I’m white.

We were at this little roadstop and we went into a gas station to grab a couple of things, and lots of people were there (side note, NO ONE but my family had a mask or was social distancing, which is preset disrespectful, not showing a regard for the safety of others).

All of these people were very talkative and friendly to one another, and the cashier (a friendly-looking blonde woman) was having conversations and joking with every patron she checked out for.

My dad is very social as well and loves having conversations with strangers, so he was aiming to have a friendly interaction. He is also a Mexican man—the only person of color in this gas station. Even so, he has been a citizen of the U.S. for 22 years since marrying my mother and he has an American accent.

People there were giving him all kinds of looks and avoiding him, and when he went to check out, the cashier was very bland and a bit snippy (“well I guess if you want to pay with debit...”) She didn’t smile at him like she’d been doing the whole time with everyone else.

It was very ucomfortable for me (I was standing next to my father) to see this woman act so strangely and rudely toward him. That never happens back home.

And then my mom (white redhead/blonde woman) said goodbye and suddenly, the cashier was all “Goodbye! Come again soon!”

If it sounds like I’m just reading into things, lemme tell you, it was very apparent when you were there. My dad mentioned it after and was saying “those people didn’t seem to like me very much.” (He brushed it off though.)

Literally what is with people

[ettadunham]

A Buffy rewatch 4x09 Something Blue

aka daa-ba-da-dee-ba-da-baa da-ba-da-dee-dabah

Welcome to this dailyish text post series where I will rewatch an episode of Buffy and go on an impromptu rant about it for an hour. Is it about one hyperspecific thing or twenty observations? 10 or 3k words? You don’t know! I don’t know!!! In this house we don’t know things.

And today’s episode is just 45 minutes of season 6 foreshadowing I guess. Let’s help Riley picking up the clues for that puzzle, cause he sure ain’t solving Buffy.

Listen, I’m too old for the Buffy/Riley relationship. That’s what I landed on. He’s the boyfriend you might think you want in college - and half the time he really is genuinely sweet, but years later you also remember how super patronizing he’s been all along.

I don’t want to be too harsh to Riley though. There’s major baggage attached to all of Buffy’s boyfriends (+ Faith), and he’s mostly alright, I’d just prefer if we did more subversion with him. Painting him as the nice perfect guy contrasting what Buffy considers her “Bad Boy” syndrome is a no win for everyone.

Maybe it’s the 29-year-old in me, but I’m also not a fan of the “women are a mystery” narrative either. It mostly just reads as “I don’t know enough women and / or lack the basic empathy skills to understand that they’re people like me”.

Anyway, back to Dark Willow Jr.

Even though Oz left back in 4x06, this is the episode where we’re truly exploring Willow’s grief about it. And it’s not nice. Willow definitely has trouble dealing with her emotions, especially when it comes to pain.

Here, we’re even seeing her trying to drown her sorrows by drinking… Light Beer? Which is kind of hilariously overreacted, but I understand that it’s more about the idea behind it, and of Willow trying to dull her emotions with substance abuse, than what they’re actually showing us.

But it’s not enough. (I mean, it’s one lousy Light Beer, what did we expect?)

Willow:  I just can't stand feeling this way. I want it to be over. Buffy:  It will. I promise. But it's gonna take time. Willow:  Well, that's not good enough. Buffy:  I know. It's just how it is. You have to go through the pain. Willow:  Well, isn't there someway I can just make it go away? Just ‘cause I say so? Can't I just make it go ‘poof'?

This single exchange tells so much about Willow’s character. I want to pin it, so I can go back to it for every future Willow analysis.

Willow doesn’t want to go through the pain. She wants to be free of it. We also see her being super snippy with her friends, in a way trying to redirect what she’s feeling onto them.

And maybe she’s also picking up a bit on their frustration, which we hear them express at one point; but to their credits, Buffy and Xander are both trying to be as patient and supportive as possible. And that’s not always easy.

Xander: We all have pain, Will. Willow: Oh, like what?  "Oh, poor me.. I live in a basement." Yeah, that's dire.

Giles is… less understanding as he’s confronting Willow about not showing up to their appointment though. His behaviour here shows that as much as we’re thinking of Giles as a dad figure, he’s mostly just that for Buffy. He generally has less patience when it comes to the rest of the Scoobies.

Also, he’s been having Spike in his bathtub for who knows how long now, so he deserves to be cut some slack here.

Willow’s talk with Buffy after that however, is full of juicy foreshadowing. Let me show you what I mean.

Buffy: Giles just worries. Spells can be dangerous. It doesn't mean he thinks you're a bad witch. Willow: I am a bad witch.

And then…

Willow: If I had any real power, I could have made Oz stay with me. Buffy: Will, you wouldn't have wanted him to have stayed— Willow: And I didn't have the guts to do the spell on Veruca.

Yikes. Imagine if she had the power to make someone she loved stay with her. And was in enough pain to take full revenge on the people responsible for taking them away from her. Imagine that.

It’s interesting going back to this episode and trying to analyze what pain does to Willow. She’s always a bit needy, and has a curiosity for power, but she’s usually tempered by empathy and an understanding where her own feelings come from. Here however, understanding why she’s feeling the way she does, doesn’t make things better.

Even if Willow understands that she’s lashing out at her friends due to her sadness about Oz, she’s just tired. She just wants it all to stop.

So she turns to magic, because of course she does. And it backfires, because of course it does.

In that sense, Something Blue shares the most DNA with Tabula Rasa - another episode that’s mostly remembered for its fun moments, but the plot happens because Willow is trying to solve her relationship issues with magic. (”Now with more yikes.” - a Tabula Rasa ad, probably.)

We’re even joking about it here:

Buffy: We may be into a forgetting spell later.

See? It’s foreshadowing palooza.

There’s of course also the Spike/Buffy relationship which we’re seeing happen for the first time. I also want to circle back to one of Buffy’s early lines in the episode.

Buffy: But I can't help thinking — isn't that where the fire comes from? Can a nice, safe relationship be that intense? I know it's nuts, but.. part of me believes that real love and passion have to go hand in hand with pain and fighting. I wonder where I get that from.

Well, I don’t know, Buffy. It certainly sounds like the same bullshit Spike was on in Lovers Walk about how lovers can’t be friends. And I already mentioned how I kind of hate that we’re painting Riley as the antithesis for that kind of romance, when there are much better examples for sort-of-functioning-not-at-each-others-throats couples on this show. (Expect me to circle back to the whole exes can’t be friends theme with New Moon Rising too once I get to it.)

Another detail in this episode is Spike commenting on Willow being miserable, while the rest of the gang are talking about how she’s ‘dealing well’. It’s one of the many examples proving Spike as highly observant, which is a cool part of his character… But I also feel like it sometimes leads to fallacies (which I personally consider his speech in Lovers Walk to be).

Spike notices things, and he voices those observations, but that doesn’t mean that what he says is true. One should always remember that Spike is still dressing up those truths in his own perspective. For instance, take last episode, where Spike made a speech about how they should stop debating the whole Native American spirit debacle. There was certainly truth to what he said, but it also seemed to simplify the entire conversation around the issue, not just in their specific circumstances.

In any case, Something Blue is insanely fun, even if I spent all this rant fixating on its most depressing implications.

You should probably expect the same kind of treatment for Tabula Rasa, once that’s on the table. (“I don’t think this is gonna work.”) We’re here to do a Buffy rewatch, not to have fun.

[serenitysilverfantasyworld]

The PenPal

Sorry it’s been so long since the last chapter. Here is the next chapter of The PenPal!

New beginnings

A few days later

*back to Ikuto

               “Iku! Letter!” Shigure said excitedly running from the mailbox outside and into the bed and breakfast.

               “Thanks buddy.” Ikuto said scratching his mess of blonde hair before he bounded off to play with Akane. After Ikuto finished what he was doing he took a small break and rested on a lawn chair outside. “I hope she’s feeling better today.” He muttered to himself as he opened the envelope.

Dear Ikuto,

       I took a tumble down the side of a mountain is all, the doctors just want to make sure that I am perfectly healthy before they let me go. My eyes were severely damaged… so time will tell if I get my sight back. If my sight doesn’t return my dream will remain a dream…

               Ikuto wiped the tears that were streaming down his face as he heard Tsuki’s voice in the distance.

              “Ikuto-kun, you okay?” Tsuki asked her head poking out of a nearby window in the bed and breakfast.

              “I’m fine Tsuki.” He smiled wiping his tears quickly. “What do you need?” He asked.

              “You just look like you need a hug, so,” She grunted climbing over the windowsill and jumping onto the grass before bounding over to where he sat, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. “Feel better?” She asked her bright blue eyes gazing up at him.

              “Much better.” He smiled touching her nose playfully. “Now run off and play cutie.” He chuckled as she bounded off into the distance. Once she was gone he read the rest of the letter.

         It sounds like your parents have their hands full, and I’m sure your siblings like having you around. When I was Shigure’s age I ran around the yard looking for all the bugs and critters I could find to show my dad. He was never happy to see me on those days, but I guess all I wanted him to notice me. That’s another story all together, I don’t want to bore you with that story.  

       That’s a smart idea, you taking online classes especially if you work a lot. I have been so busy with high school and my college courses that I haven’t gotten myself a part time job.

          You write music, that’s really cool I’m kind of jealous I can sing well enough, but can’t write a single cord without it sounding like a dying whale. What genre of music do you write, I’d love to hear it sometime. I don’t doubt that you will be an amazing musician. When you make it big I’ll be sure to buy your first album alright? I’m finally feeling better; the flu has finally bit the dust and I’m on the road to full recover and hopefully out of this sanitary prison they call a hospital. I look forward to hearing from you again soon.

~Kyoko

          “Ikuto!” His dad shouted from the back door. “Can you cover the front desk while your mom and I go shopping?”

           “Sure thing dad.” Ikuto said as he slid the letter into his back pocket. “I’ll reply when I have some spare time.”

            A few weeks go by and Kyoko’s letter was still on his desk, waiting a reply. His parents surprised him that night when they came home from their shopping trip. Telling him that they were going to go on a vacation to Kyoto for their twenty-fifth anniversary, so that left Ikuto to take care of his siblings and run the bed and breakfast by himself. Luckily they did have several part time employees that helped take care of the patron’s needs and meals, but they were all still pretty new to the job so Ikuto was there most of the day supervising when he wasn’t otherwise chasing his siblings. With his finals coming up in online school courses he spent most every night after closing up the bed and breakfast studying and waking up to Akame’s nightmares.

            Every morning started with a large cup of coffee just to wake himself up before the chaos of the day. The moment his parents returned from their trip he went to his room for a much-needed nap. After waking up the next morning he finally replied to Kyoko’s letter she sent three weeks ago. “I’m so sorry Kyoko, please forgive me.”

Three days later

*back to Kyoko

               After her confrontation with her father Misaki demanded over and over for Kyoko to be released from the hospital to avoid further injury from him. The staff declined, because they didn’t want to get fired for disobeying Dr. Ootori’s direct orders to keep his daughter here until she is ‘fully recovered’ after a thorough examination by himself. Which everyone knew that he had some really high standards, so Misaki resigned herself to getting the permission to stay the night every night until Kyoko was recovered enough for a release.

               For the past few weeks every day that Misaki came back from the store with no letter Kyoko’s spirits dropped. Every day was a rollercoaster of emotions when she heard Misaki come in her hopes would rise and then quickly plummet, until at long last Misaki rushed in excitedly. “Ikuto finally replied Kyoko!”

               “Great.” Kyoko said gloomily with a hint of sarcasm.

               “Don’t you want to hear what he wrote?” She asked as she set the groceries she bought into the mini-fridge they had in the hospital room.

               “Whatever.” She said.

               “Just give him a chance, I’m sure he has a good reason for not writing you for so long.” Misaki said sitting in the chair on the balcony next to Kyoko.

               “Doesn’t matter.” Kyoko shrugged as Misaki ripped open the envelope.

Dear Kyoko,

         I’m so sorry it took me so long to respond to your letter, my parents went on a surprise vacation for three weeks, so I had to hold down the fort at home and the bed and breakfast while they were away. It was quite tiring.

         I’m so sorry to hear about your accident, I hope you can recover fully soon. Especially your eyes, those are needed to do most everything.

         I’m flattered to hear that you want to hear my music, but I have to say I’m not that good. My mom may call me her little superstar, but I still have a long way to go before I’m star material. I can play any genre on the piano and guitar. With my original songs I tend to lean towards calm and soothing melodies, my teacher calls it smooth pop. Sometimes I use my guitar and sing some big country hits just to mix things up at the bed and breakfast. If you want to hear my music maybe we could video chat sometime, but wait do they allow laptops in the hospital? Or when you are released you can always come over to the bed and breakfast, but we can figure that out later I guess.

         I’m sorry again that it took so long to write back to you, I was just so busy lately, please forgive me.

~Ikuto

               After Misaki read the letter Kyoko sat their silently, sighing heavily.

               “You know we could go…” Misaki started.

               “No.” Kyoko argued. “I can’t….” She said pointing at her face, the scars across her eyes that she’s felt so many times she knew there is no way that the whole world wouldn’t notice them the second she stepped outside.

               “You look beautiful as always, and your dad will understand or at least accept your condition one day… we hope.” Misaki said as she walked to the microwave, placing some instant noodles inside. “On another note, I got a call from the service dog agency like you asked me to do, they have a dog that is ready for you to start going through the training with.”

               “Great.” Kyoko said, knowing at least in her situation having a new set of eyes to help her avoid obstacles would be helpful. “When?”

               “I told them to bring the dog here tomorrow as soon as they can.” Misaki said as she grabbed her noodles from the microwave. “This should hopefully help you get some of your independence back.”

               “Yea...” Kyoko sighed heavily. “Dad’s not going to like this.”

               “We can only hope he’ll come to his senses.” Misaki replied. “Hopefully before school starts.”

               “Yea.” Kyoko sighed, desperate to change the topic from her overbearing father.

               “Let’s eat, then we’ll write the letter.” Misaki said as she handed Kyoko her cup of noodles.

               “Ok.” Kyoko replied as Misaki placed a cup of noodles into her hands, handing her a fork since chopsticks are difficult for her.

                After the garbage was thrown away, Misaki pulled out her notepad and pen. “Ready when you are.”    

                Once the letter was written Misaki was so happy to hear from Kyoko’s tone of voice that she was starting to feel just a little bit cheerful. Since finding out what the accident did to her eyesight she barely spoke a word for that whole three weeks. She was still not her normal perky self but she’s at least been less snippy than she was when she first got the news from the doctors. Misaki was filled with hope for the future that Kyoko could have with her new friend that she couldn’t keep tears from flowing.

               “What’s wrong?” Kyoko asked, hearing Misaki sniffle a couple of times.

               “I’m just happy Kyoko.” Misaki said as she slid the notebook and letter into her bag. “Your mom would be so happy for you.” Misaki said.

                 “I hope...” Kyoko smiled gazing softly towards Misaki.

A week later

*back to Ikuto

               He had finally finished off his online classes for the summer semester and was ready to enjoy the rest of the summer writing songs and working when he was needed at the bed and breakfast. He went back to the song he wrote a few weeks ago that was inspired by Kyoko, trying to put lyrics to the tune. He racked his brain for several days whenever he had free time, but no lyrics came to him. As he scrubbed the dishes from dinner one day the mail carrier walked in and set the mail on the bar, seeing Ikuto at the sink behind it.

               “Thank you very much.” Ikuto said drying his hands off as the mail carrier walked back outside. He flipped through the pile of letters until he found one from Kyoko. He smiled as he slid the letter into his pocket, going back to his chores. “I’m hope she isn’t mad at my late response.” He sighed in relief.

               That night after closing up the bed and breakfast he went to his room to read Kyoko’s letter.

Dear Ikuto,

       I was so happy to get your letter, I was worried that you forgot about me…. My friends haven’t visited me this whole two months I’ve been here. On top of that my boyfriend dumped me before I was even out of surgery shortly after my accident, and now he’s married to my best friend. He’s the heir to a large company so the marriage was all over the news so if you have a television you probably saw it…. They both graduated at the end of this school year in May and now… I thought what we had was something special, he told me he would wait until I graduated to propose so my studies wouldn’t be hindered. I guess he only really loved me for my family’s money after all.

My family’s business is Ootori Medical Inc. My father is the CEO of the whole company, which is I guess one reason I’m stuck in this hospital, even though all my injuries have healed.

I’m sorry, didn’t mean to rant about something so trivial, but it’s nice to get it off my chest… I…haven’t really spoken much to anyone lately… The only one that I’ve really spoken to has been Misaki, she’s been like a mother to me since I was born. She’s been my scribe for my letters until my eyes heal.

       Misaki has told me time and again that singing was one of my mom’s favorite things to do. There was a rumor of my mom getting a record deal but was forced to give it up when she married my dad. When I would walk to school I would often sing to my favorite songs, I guess in a way it made me feel closer to the mother I never knew….

I’m sorry, this ended up being a letter of venting, I’ll try to avoid that next time it’s just been a rough three weeks…

Were you able to get any sleep while holding the fort down? If not you should take all the time you need to sleep, I’m sure you’ve earned it. You mother should be giving birth soon shouldn’t she?

I would love to visit the bed and breakfast sometime, I’m sick of this prison of a hospital my dad has forced me to stay in.  

~Kyoko

           After reading Kyoko’s letter he sat there, unsure what to think or how to respond. He looked over at the clock by his bed and saw it was already midnight. When did it get so late? He thought to himself as he quickly undressed and went to bed, leaving the letter on his nightstand.

               A few days go by and Ikuto finally had a few minutes to sit down to respond to Kyoko’s letter.  

               “You writing to Kyoko?” His mother asked as Ikuto sealed the envelope, she sat down slowly on the couch next to Ikuto.

               “Yea,” Ikuto smiled as he set the envelope on the table. “Do you think it’s too early to ask her to meet in person?” He asked looking over at his mother.

               “Well you have only known her a couple of months so it’s hard to say, does she want to meet you?” she asked.

               “I’m not sure, she mentioned that it would be nice to get out of the hospital so maybe…?”

               “What is she in the hospital for?” She asked.

               “Well, I don’t know the details, but she was in an accident of some sort and her eyes were severely damaged, they aren’t sure if she’ll see once her eyes are recovered. I should ask her if her eyes are better.” He said as he jotted that down on his notepad.

               “Oh the poor thing…” She sighed.

               “Yea… she seems to be dealing with it in her own way, but I can imagine it’s really hard for her, she wants to be a doctor so she needs to be able to see.”

               “Yea she certainly does, I hope all is well. Any sort of serious injury is hard to deal with at first. Especially if you were in perfect health before.”

               “What should I do?” Ikuto asked.

               “Let me read.” She replied as Ikuto handed her the letter. After reading it she set it down, her hand rubbing the end of her chin in thought. “It sounds like she is in need of a friend Ikuto, her life has just been flipped upside down.”

               “Alright, thanks mom.” Ikuto smiled.

               “Maybe you should wait to ask her to visit till she’s able to.”

               “Alright.” He sighed. “I just don’t want to hurt her, it sounds like she’s been through a lot.”

               “You’re so cute when you worry Ikuto.” His mother chuckled.

               Ikuto’s cheeks flushed red in embarrassment, she was only partially right. He was worried about her, but it felt different than anything he had ever felt before. From his previous rejection he wasn’t ready to admit that this could be the beginnings of love that he was feeling. “I just care for her as a friend.” His blush deepened.

               “Whatever you say Ikuto.” She winked as he left to put the letter in the mailbox.

[royal-writer]

Hogwarts au~

Amon’s a Ravenclaw, much to the disappointment of his father. Their family are Gryffindors with a few Ravenclaws once in a blue moon; maybe a Hufflepuff here or there, but his only son should not be a Ravenclaw. Especially with his intellect, he doesn’t feel Amon has the mind to be a Ravenclaw. It’s a humiliation upon Amon that echoes onto the family name, which in turn makes Arthur an even more stern. He’s constantly trying to push him and groom him to the standards he thinks his boy needs. Amon’s miserable; especially since some of the other Ravenclaw’s mock him because he’s ‘in the wrong house’ or ‘needs more time to solve things’, but keeps it hidden beneath a mask.

Enter Essatha. Two years younger than Amon; a girl who looks like a stray whose mother is in ailing health constantly in and out of medical ward. She gets placed in the Slytherin house. No one seems surprised the edgy hostile girl is a Slytherin. On the train of 9 and ¾ heading to Hogwarts alone, she had a bite in her tone and stayed in her own corner of her cart, with a book in hand or looking through her chest to make sure she had everything. Unfortunately even her own house isn’t too thrilled to have her; as most Slytherin tend to be pedigree proper and they gained what is essentially a half-blood rat (comes from a human father, and a witch mother).

After the first night and the freshman get sorted via the Sorted Hat, everything goes by routinely. Amon hangs out with the handful of friends he has; mostly Ravenclaw and Gryffindors, and keeps to his studies. Essatha, on the other hand, is quick to make a name for herself. Whispers and rumors almost immediately turn to awe and jealousy, as people begin to talk about her spellcasting. She’s got terrifyingly powerful skill. Even the teachers talk about her charms and hexes.

Thus, the school year goes by and ends. The next school year begins, and Essie gets placed in more advanced casting classes. The classes that, low and behold, Amon is in. Being both a little spellcasting prodigy and a Syltherin, she gains no favors in the class which seems to do her fine. Amon is appealed to her looks (*cough who isn’t cough*), but doesn’t go out of his way to speak with her or get to know her.

Eventually, he two get paired up for a project with a Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. Essie is almost immediately outcast by the two older houses; who find both her status and snippiness hard to swallow. They start jabbing at her for being a ‘typical Syltherin’ until she eventually quits putting up any fuss at all, and follows the elders orders and ideas.

After their assignment; which they pass by marginal quality because Essie’s suggestions are ignored; Essie overhears the others in her group not blaming her, but Amon. They’re all whispering that of course the tough, brawny, clueless Ravenclaw was the reason they got screwed. He’s supposed to be some Gryffindor after all; the sorting house put in him the wrong place and now they had to suffer the consequences of a mediocre mark. The entire thing is made worse when Essatha; a ‘promising student’, is berated by the professor because they expected more out of her after hearing how talented she was.

She’s infuriated by the whole situation, but concern gets the better of her when she begins to realize just how exiled her former Ravenclaw teammate is. After having been paired together, she begins noticing that Amon speaks to very few in claw. Most give him a wide berth, or simply ignore him like a ghost. So she makes herself open; starts sitting by him, offering assistance, giving him a warm greeting and a smile.

Amon doesn’t appreciate this. After a couple weeks of this, he snaps at her. Demands to know her intentions; what she had against him, what she wanted from him. She tries to be assertive in turn; gets rounded on, and eventually crumbles and admits she only wanted to be kind and extend a hand in friendship. She starts sitting by herself again, and Amon sits alone feeling like an ass.

Tentatively, a week or so later, Amon goes to sit by her. Essatha seems very uncomfy. He softly apologizes for his behavior. Though there’s an uneasy tension between them for a while thereafter, it slowly begins to dissolve through minimal conversation and partnership. Essie begins to correct and help him with his casting; offering him tips, acronyms, and sing-song tools he can use to remember posture, wrist movement, and incantation spells. In return, he begins to help Essie with everything else she either struggles with or is only passing on basic marks; mostly the history of magic, potions, astronomy, and above all: herbology.

Essie finds out how much Amon loves gardening and plants and oh my starts it’s the cutest thing she’s ever seen. He’s so passionate about it that she actually writes her mom, who has an owl send her with an old book they had on growing different things for different potions and spells. She uses it as a bridge with Amon; they both mull over it and he gets excited to tell her things not even in the book that they actually start penciling in together.

The next year comes and goes. Both of them have raised their marks tremendously in even their worst subjects to average or above average grades. They’re both delighted to realize they still have a scheduled course together in charms, and Amon now has advanced courses in potions making and herbology.

Essie is now in third year, thus is permitted to go to Hogsmeade now. Thus, begins traditional visits with Amon to go buy new items and share butterbeers together. Everyone is beginning to think these two are dating by now. Amon’s friends, and Essie’s that they’ve now made both together and apart (becuz fuck yeah they’re going to make more friends) will even ask ‘em if they’re ‘ready to go do x’ or ‘do you want to go to the Broomsticks for a butterbeer’ and both have been known to turn down these things, simply stating ‘Oh I have plans with Amon/Essatha thanks tho’.

On clear nights the pair start making it routine to chart star constellations and get ahead in astrology class. Not at all because they’re enjoying the time together nope. As the days ween on though Amon needs to focus on his N.E.S.T. tests and exams, so they spend a bit less time together or if they do, it’s mostly in the presence of studying together.

t also happens to the first year that, when Amon returns home for the winter holiday break and Essie decides to stay at Hogwarts (mum’s in the hospital again, and encouraged her to stay so she wouldn’t be lonely at home), Amon sends her a parcel. It contains Christmas roses, a Hellebore plant with some care instructions, candies, a sweet endearing letter expressing that he missed her and the kicker: a hand stuffed and sewn snake that seems to resemble a lot of the details Essie described in her long-lost favorite plush, Mr. Hiss.

After winter break is over, two are inseparable when outside of class. Amon is frequently walking Essatha back to the front of the Syltherin house entrance at the bottom of the school; ignoring the chiding remarks and jokes people make or how people warn him he’s “dating a girl who houses in the dungeons” (we’re not dating! she’s just a good friend…). Likewise, Essie is seen walking with Amon near the Ravenclaw portrait entrance near the observatory a lot. They’re almost always giggling like fucking dweebs sharing a secret. When they aren’t hanging out solo or in mutual groups, they’re with their own houses or small non-shared friends here or there.

Amon ends up trying out for quidditch. He gets up getting the position of a Beater; to which Essatha does not miss any games he participates in. He almost always spots her front row, regardless of what teams are playing, holding a sign in support of him or cheering in the front for him. It doesn’t make her the most popular among the Syltherin house when they’re facing off against Ravenclaws haha, but as she doesn’t seem keen on the sport otherwise people mostly just grumble and tell her to stop kissing up to her boyfriend (he’s not my boyfriend!).

When the end of the year comes, Essatha and Amon finally go to see each other during break. Hepsiba seems thrilled to meet him; stating how she’s heard so much about him (mooommm! - oh but honey you write about him all the time. Crumbcake don’t give me that look). They go to see some of their friends, they go out on not-at-all-dates holding hands and being enthusiastic about all kinds of shit. Amon airs some grievances about his future; what his family thinks he needs to do, what he wants to do, how things are changing and how he can’t believe how many years have went by already. Essie offers a calm voice from her perspective that seems to put him at ease. For now.

She goes to meet his family and hang out with him a bit later in summer. Arthur seems only just refraining from curling a lip at her. His sister Josephine who Essie has met a dozen or so times in campus is warm and welcoming. Essatha expresses a soft-spoken understanding to Amon’s feelings after getting to know the expectations of his father, and their lifestyle.

School starts up and they fall back into a similar routine. Essatha gets a giggle at Amon’s large owl patronous. It’s quite alarming to find that Essie is able to summon a occamy as her patronus; to which Amon teases her for the creature’s serpentine feathered appearance and protective motherly instincts over its eggs and chicks.

Amon spends every moment not in classes he can with Essie. They study together sometimes; but she understands his classes have gotten more rigorous so he mostly studies alone or with his fellow Ravenclaws now. He also has N.E.S.T. base classes and pays for Aparation courses as well, so he’s not around as often. They still make time for ‘hanging out’, to which everyone still chides is clearly their dates. The year comes and goes relatively uneventful; Ravenclaw actually manages to win the last Quidditch game that year but as always, neither of their classes win the end-of-the-year house point rack up (Gryffindor again? Deadpan. Gee. This seems. Favoritism.) Summer vacation is spent together once more, where their hand holding and timid smiles have turned into full blown cuddling and Amon wrapping his arm around Essie all the time. Essatha opens up more and more about how she feels about her mom’s situation, her dreams, her hopes, her fears. Amon is infatuated with all these new layers to this lovely woman and all this trust. He listens. He gently offers her praise and encouragement. It makes her brighten up all the more around him.

When school starts up the next year all goes as per normal, but there’s a rare ball being held due to some special event. Amon invites Essie as his date. Eyes emoji. Essie taking lessons with Amon for a few days prior to get the hang of a few popular waltzes and ballroom swings. Say it’s a ‘just as friends’ thing but oh no… Amon looks really sharp in a dress uniform. Better than wizard robes or casual clothes. Nervous sweating.

Oh Shit Essie looks amazing in a gown. Wow. Obviously she’s gorgeous she’s always looked gorgeous I mean I haven’t noticed how beautiful she is she just- I mean she Obviously is just really pretty and cute but wow. Speechless.

The cliché of Amon hanging his coat around Essie’s bare shoulders later as she shivers saying the castle is cold and when they’re close and he’s still holding the edges of his dress jacket draped over her they just sorta. Fall into each other’s arms. Oops.

“Is this okay?” Ess’ grabs Amon’s collar and pulls him back. Smooch.

Days later when folks joke about them dating they just agree to it. Everyone is actually surprised by this nugget of knowledge. They think the two have finally cracked and are messing with them but nope. “What were you expecting you kept saying we were dating?” “Idk at this point it was just a running gag joke I didn’t think it was going to happen anymore I guess.”

You get the gist on the rest of this goes down. More years of exams and growth; Amon graduates and gets into a career and they keep in contact. A very low-key relationship for a good handful of years thereafter; even after Essie graduates. Working on their careers a bit, getting to know themselves and the world as adults. The dating gets more serious in their twenties where ya’ll know where this is going to end.

Wow I typed a lot for no fucking reason but man this would be a fun au to write thoroughly.

[barpurplewrites]

A sparkle of Magic

Belle had started decorating the library for Halloween on the first of October, but she’d been planning the Haunted House event since the middle of August. The ridiculously early start had been made necessary by Madam Mayor’s reluctance about green lighting any event in the library. Regina made no bones about the fact she hadn’t wanted the library re-opened, she did everything she could to hinder any potential success. It hadn’t taken Belle long to figure out that it was nothing personal, the library and her position as librarian were just pawns in the never-ending battle of wills between Regina and Mr Gold. Regina would cut off her own nose if she thought it would spite her rival. Nobody knew why the two loathed each other so much, but there were plenty of rumours, none of which made a lick of sense but were entertaining enough to get trotted out when there was nothing else to gossip about.

Grudgingly Regina had allowed a tiny budget for the event, all of which Belle had spent on getting Granny to cater a buffet. Granny had taken to her task with gusto and produced spooky finger sandwiches and creepy cakes. She even whipped up some treacle tarts and a punch that she called pumpkin juice, Belle was thrilled with those, the kids would get the references to the Harry Potter books as quickly as she had. Knowing the tastes of the townsfolk as well as she did, Granny had also prepared some non-Halloween food, explaining to Belle that not everyone would enjoy the creepy stuff. Belle was grateful for her suggestion, she wanted everyone to enjoy this event.

The decorations had come out of her own pocket and she thought she’d done rather well. The bookshelves were draped with cobwebs that held plastic spiders and little glow in the dark lizards. The latter didn’t really fit with the webs, but Belle hadn’t been able to resist them, and they’d only cost two dollars for a bag of fifty.

Leroy had loaned her a smoke machine he had for some reason, and he’d helped her set it up inside a cauldron she’d bizarrely found in one of the storerooms. She had no idea how the huge black metal thing had come to be stored in the library, but she was glad of it. The metallic red and yellow wrapping paper she’d bought from the store looked great as flames underneath the smoke-filled cauldron.

Anton had gifted her two dozen pumpkins from his bumper crop. The carved gourds now grinned from various points around the library, the glowsticks inside them casting colourful shadows across the walls and floor.

The part Belle was proudest of was the treasure hunt she’d set up. She’d done this a few times for the kids and they always enjoyed it. This being Halloween she’d given all the clues a spooky twist to lead the kids through the library shelves to a lucky dip bin filled with treats and a few tricks in the form of plastic bones. She would have loved to have been able to give each child a book, but her budget hadn’t stretched to that, maybe next year.

She’d opened the doors a few minutes ago and had been a little disappointed that there was nobody waiting to come in. She smoothed her witches costume down and resolved not to let anxious disappointment niggle at her. This was going to be a good night. She turned the music up a little, so it could be heard from outside and redirected one of the spooky projectors, so the shapes of ghosts spilled out on to the street.

She'd made her own Halloween play list since the ones on Spotify contained music with lyrics that weren’t family friendly. Green and red ghosts danced across the walls and ceiling as Werewolf of London started. Belle grabbed her broom, (a proper old besom Granny had given her saying; I’ll stick with my Dyson these days) and twirled around singing along to the song.

There's a freedom to being alone. Everyone sings a little louder, dances a little wilder when they are alone. Belle was bouncing around, one hand holding her pointed hat on her head the other on the broom when a voice behind her howled.

Belle jumped shrieked and spun around to glare at the new arrival. Mr Gold was leaning on his came in the doorway with one hand raised in a defensive gesture.

"I'm sorry Miss French I didn't mean to startle you."

Belle bit back the snippy comment she was going to give whoever had catcalled her. Now she realised that Mr Gold had just been joining in with the song. She straightened her hat on her head and smiled at the first customer she'd had this evening.

"Welcome Mr Gold. Enter freely and leave some of the happiness you bring."

Gold's lips twisted into a wry smile; "You might be the only person in town to claim I bring happiness."

"Well I'll take what I can get this evening," she waved a hand at the very empty library, "beside I don't believe you are half the beast you claim to be."

The swirling orange and green lights flickered over his face and made his gold tooth glint as he grinned.

"A brave statement for a pretty damsel alone with a dreaded beast."

Belle dropped her hand onto her cocked hip and leaned on her broom; "I believe we are on my home ground Mr Gold. I have the advantage wouldn't you say?"

Gold dipped his head but his hair falling into his face didn't totally hide his smile. They had been flirting with each other like this for months, and Belle was always happy to see that little smile. It told her that he was enjoying their dance as much as she was.

"I think you'll find yourself with more patrons than you know what to do with very soon."

"And how can you be so sure?"

To her great surprise he dipped his hand into his pocket and retrieved a small crystal ball. He rolled it across the back of his hand and neatly into his palm.

"Magic of course."

The ball was dancing across his fingers in a hypnotic fashion.

"Quite the goblin king"

Gold chuckled and tossed the ball into the air. As it vanished Belle could almost believe he did indeed have as much magic as Jareth.

"In truth Miss French I have just come from Granny's where young Henry Mills is drumming up trade for you."

"Bless him. He does love reading."

She glanced around to double check everything was ready.

"Do you need any assistance?"

Belle had no problems in taking any help that was offered, which is how Mr Gold found himself laying out trays of finger sandwiches and candies loaded with so much sugar he could feel his teeth dissolving just looking at them. The predicted rush of excited children arrived just as he'd set down the stack of paper plates decorated with eyeballs. Personally, he found the plates a touch off putting, it was for the best, he didn't need another lecture from his dentist about the dangers of indulging his sweet tooth.

Gold was pleased to see that many people had opted to attend the library party. The warmth was no doubt preferable to traipsing around door to door trick or treating in the cold. He'd meant to leave as soon as people began to arrive, but her found himself lingering in the shadows for the simple pleasure of watching Belle. She'd thrown herself into the role of spooky hostess. Within moments she had people dancing and trying the apple bob. Grateful parents had moved towards the buffet once they had ensured their children were well entertained.

"I had no idea our industrious bookworm had hired you to be the spectre at the feast Gold."

Long practice kept Gold's face neutral in the face of Regina's barb. She was revealing more than she would like, her peevish tone showing just how annoyed she was at the fun being had around her. She had been desperate for the library to fail, Gold knew that she'd be plotting to sell the prime real estate to a developer in an attempt to challenge him as main rental landlord.  

He grinned at her; "I needed no encouragement to support this event. The library is a wonderful benefit to the community. Don't you think?"

Regina all but snarled at him. She knew that he'd use any disparaging comment against she come the next town council meeting. Gold had won this round and couldn't resist a parting jab; "Might be wise to steer clear of the apple bob, wouldn't want anyone to mistake you for the Evil Queen."

The huff of indignation was worth whatever retaliation Regina would come up with. Gold wove his way through the sizeable crowd meaning to slip out. Regina wasn't far wrong, no one would relax and have fun while he was lurking at the edges of the party. A warm hand on his arm halted him in his tracks.

"Mr Gold?"

A genuine smile curled his lips as he looked down at Belle. He'd not noticed before that her black lipstick had flecks of glitter in it. What would the town gossips say if some of that transferred to his own lips? He shook the insane thought away.

"What can I do for you Belle?"

"Dr whale has come dressed as Jareth, but he can't juggle the crystal balls and some of the kids are disappointed. Would you be willing to show them how it's done before they decided to TP the doctor?"

Before he registered what he had done Gold's traitorous tongue had framed the words; "I'd be delighted lead the way" and a beaming Belle was dragging him by the arm to the fiction section where Whale was attempting to hold court with a gaggle of increasingly irritated goblins.

Children, Gold corrected in his head, they were just children. No need to be nervous of them, for all that some of them did look like little terrors.

"I've found someone who can juggle. If you'll be good and let him show you."

Belle's calm tone caused the kids to settle, but Whale scoffed at the sight of him.

"If the goblin king can't do it, how can the beast of Storybrooke?"

It was unfortunate that Whale spoke just as the music dropped in volume. Heads turned, and the crowd began to drift towards the fiction section. Gold was just about to make a mocking comment about Whale's ridiculous cod piece when Belle's warm hand covered the one holding his cane.

"I happen to know from personal experience that Mr Gold has magic fingers."

Gold wasn't the only one who nearly choked on his tongue. Several people spluttered out mouthfuls of punch. From the corner of his eye he saw colour rise to Belle's cheeks under her pale make up. Undaunted she squared her shoulders and raised her chin defiantly.

"Show them what you've got Mr Gold."

He took strength from her confidence and plucked the crystal ball from his pocket. With no small amount of pride, he noted that while he was using a real glass Whale's balls were cheap plastic. Gold subtly handed his cane to Belle and braced his weight on his good leg, so he could use both hands. Belle wanted a show and he intended to fulfil her every wish.

It would probably be best not to dwell on the sorts of wishes he desired to grant her while he was standing in front of two dozen children.

The crystal ball rolled smoothly from the tips of his right fingers to his left and back again. The oohs and ahhs from the crowd fuelled him to nod at the plastic balls held lose in Whale's hands.

"Throw me one of those if you'd be so kind doctor."

Slack-jawed Whale did as he was bid. It was nothing for Gold to keep his own crystal rolling up and down his left hand as he caught the ball in his right. At his nod Whale threw two more and now Gold had three rolling in his right palm. He wasn't sure if they would take the weight of his crystal, but he was going to try for a big finish. He rolled the crystal on to the tips of his fingers and lightly tossed it into the air. It made a graceful arc before he caught it on top of the three balls he was rolling in his hand. There was a bit of a wobble but considering the cheers that exploded from the children he didn’t think they had noticed.

Gold pocket his own crystal and handed the others back to Whale who gave him a grin as he leaned in and whispered; “Nice show, I still look better in the costume.”

Gold snorted and stepped back to find Belle handing him his cane. He turned his head towards to ask if his performance had been acceptable, just as she stood up on her tiptoes. Her lips met his and his eyes went wide. He knew he should move away, but he was frozen to the spot, the warmth of Belle’s lips the only thing he cared about. Until the sounds of whistles and cheers reached his ears. No doubt the embarrassment would come, but for now his only concern was Belle’s well-being.

“I’m, erm, I, ah…”

Belle smiled at him; “Not quite how I was expecting that to happen, but I’m glad it did.”

Relief almost knocked him to the floor. Belle was glad that they had kissed and the reactions of the rest of the town could go hang.

 On November the first those residents who where up and about early weren’t at all surprised to see Mr Gold leaving the library wearing the same suit he’d had on yesterday. The wide smile on his face and the traces of black glitter that clung to his skin gave them a pretty good idea that the Beast had spent the night in Beauty’s embrace.