#sometimes you feel the exact same about every choice and it's genuinely about what's true

[brinnanza]

you guys know stuff can just be neutral right. like it doesn't have to be good or bad it can just Be ykwim like sometimes an experience is Weird but that doesn't necessarily imply that it was good or bad sometimes things are just so unfamiliar that the sheer novelty overrides having an opinion about it. sometimes you hear someone's died, but it's no one you knew or would ever know and it's so many degrees of separation from the source that they have no emotional investment in it either and that's not automatically a tragedy OR a relief it's just a statement of fact.

sometimes stuff just Is. and it's okay that it is.

[thatfrailsoul]

– Parts of me that I seek in you

tarot pick a pile reading ( → 1, 2, 3 )

When we strive to connect, to know someone... There are many different reasons for which our heart calls more for one person than the other. The appearance, the ways, their mind or heart, their actions or deepest goals and desires... No matter what it is, there is always that something that makes them shine in the darkness that surrounds us. And, very often, that something is the same as the one that we lost, can't find in ourselves... So we desperately look for it in others. With such perseverance and obsessive need that, sometimes, we allow it to lead us to those that perhaps, at the end, we would've preferred to not meet.

So what is it? What you miss in yourself but so desperately need? Where or when did you lose it? And where and how can you finally find that missing piece?

Slow down for a moment. Breathe. Listen to your heart, to its rhythm. Allow it to speak to you. And choose the image that seems so familiar, so similar to what you feel. Remembering that, whatever the message might be, you are free to listen to it or to let go. Without the need to make it fit. Because your true answer will always find you, the moment you will be really ready and will have the need.

_

– Pile One,

the star, the ten of cups and the fool.

Your poor and innocent soul... Your tired heart, your consumed mind... The only thing you ever wanted, the one that you wanted back then, was simply to leave it all behind. All that pain, all that fear. All the reasons why you couldn't ever be enough or right for someone, for anyone, that for once you just desired to don't hear... You found the last bits of your strength, patience and courage, all that remained in your shattered heart. And you used them to try to heal. All those numerous wounds, so many that it just feels like a whole and single, draining, torturing, one.

But what did it give you, in exchange of this incredible resilience to try to heal? Only a little relief, a little distraction... That hid that hole that was becoming bigger and bigger, with each time that you worked on - or to be exact forced - the healing of your soul.

And this is the thing. This is what ruined it all, what made it so difficult and challenging. What influenced so many others areas of your life... One little but so important detail about who you are, the way you are. And how much you got used in this life to beat yourself up, blaming for every single disgrace that you experienced... How often you repeated it, demonstrated it to yourself with every step that was supposed to help you heal. You never were gentle, patient, understanding. You never gave yourself credit for how many right things and choices you made. Or how many others mistakes never were really yours, but of somebody else. You did none of this. But only focused on rushing, on becoming better, on healing faster, growing, so you could be sooner worthy and ready to show what a good person you are to this world. You were angry, frustrated, ashamed. You despised yourself for needing healing and learning in the first place. You regretted every single additional day that you needed to get it together. Only noticing how many flows you still have, how many wounds are still bleeding, how many triggers you still can't endure.

Your desire, your intention, was so good... So innocent, genuine and truly right. But so quickly and scarily naturally it became just another cage and punishment that you gave yourself. Changing the whole purpose, the whole meaning, of a journey that is so pure. That was never supposed to be so rushed, give you so quickly those results that now you are so angry to don't see manifesting in your world... And that you decided, unconsciously or perhaps not, to look for in others. The ones that seem so beautiful, so healthy and whole. The ones that seem to go through life so gracefully, no matter the obstacles or challenges on their path. The ones that seem to be able to influence you so positively, if only you stay close to them, showing you the right ways and directions. Supporting you, helping you in doing it correctly, like you seem incapable of doing on your own.

But, no matter how much we adore to think the opposite, we indeed are the only ones responsible for our journey. For our battles, our victories or our loss. No matter how supportive, how close others are, they still can't really help us. Not when we don't allow even our own self to do the needed work. You can't fight through it, not this journey. You can't do it with the only motivation and push being your own meanness, judgment and resentement for the things that you dared to do or not. You can't be there, behind your own back, looking closely at every your step and action, ready to attack if you don't do it right.

But you can allow yourself to take more time. To be slower. To make more mistakes. To feel once again that pain, if it's the one that still overwhelms your heart. You can remember. You can reflect. Learn something from it. Or maybe not. Because it is normal, it is right, to take time to heal, to go through it with all the needed ups and downs.

And you can still do it. You can continue this journey changing your pace and rhythm, or simply starting from scratch. You can and need to do it. Because no-one else can help and guide you, as you can do to your own self. By being gentle and understanding with your heart and mind, that indeed do their best to allow you to feel and experience this life.

P.s. If you would like to receive a more personal message and guidance about your situation - find out all about it here!♡

– Pile Two,

the magician, the fool and the page of swords

You have something so beautiful, so unique, within yourself. Such passion that, if not explored and shared, can consume you inevitably. Consume that power that you sometimes forget to have. So you always took care of it. You always nourished it. In the moments when it felt as natural as breathing, and even in those where it was too similar to a torture, that need to create and do something but without any idea on why, how to start or from where. And even if, thanks to you and your deepest love, this passion and calling did survive... It is starting to fade now. Submerged with all the questions and doubts about whether or not it is worth it, if you are good enough to do it at all, if it is really that important... All because for quite sometime you were the only admirer and supporter of your work.

You are wavering, your steps and actions as you create become more and more unstable, as every inspiration or idea seems not enough to be worthy of the success, even just appreciation that you want. But this something... Is so yours, so made perfectly just for you and to express your soul... That you can't really just leave it. You can't just stop doing it, even if it is becoming hard to be satisfied as you used to, because you so naturally always gravitate back to creating and allowing your mind and heart to speak up through every step of your work. So you keep going, with a non consistent rhythm, many set backs, infinite doubts... Doing it, because you feel this need and desire so much. But not really enjoying it anymore. Because in the eyes of others it never seems good enough, and therefore it doesn't feel enough for your own self. For the one that, in the first place, you were supposedly creating it for.

It is so natural and normal to have the desire to share, to welcome others in your universe in a sense, to show them who you are or how you see this world... But what starts so innocently and genuinely, a way to connect to others and don't feel so different or not understood, an alternative type of motivation and fuel for your creativity even... is so often soon to become exactly what kills it, overwhelming your every idea with the judgment of others, and their way of seeing the world.

It just shifted your perspective, about yourself and your work. It made you feel little, insignificant, too simple or too much, confronted to what others seem to consider deserving and worthy of their attention and love. It made you feel useless, because when your creation was ignored, you felt like what was really being rejected was your soul that spoke through your work.

And time after time, day after day, this calling became so faint, almost non existent. Not because it is really going away... But because you are just the one that tries so desperately to ignore it and to not hear it. Convinced that following it would be useless, without anyone appreciating and admiring what you do. Convinced that doing it for your own self and enjoyment is not really worth it, because it doesn't give you any income, any fame, any support and appreciation from others. Convinced that it is only and simply a waste of time.

But is it? Is it really completely useless if you are the only one to whom you dedicate the creations of your soul? Or does it give you a chance to feel and experience this world in your own way, processing those emotions and thoughts, reinventing them? Does it give you back the ability to breathe and feel at ease, once you allow everything that overwhelms you flow out through your work? Does it fill your time with excitement and enjoyment? Does it give you a safe place, that allows you to rest and hide from everything else? Does it make you feel proud of who you are and what you did, what you were able to create with your own mind and hands? Because even if it does only one of these things... Than it is worth it. Because this is what gives you the energy and fuel to live this life, to appreciate it, to go through it. Having something that always protects and expresses your soul.

You can't do only what assures you the interest or appreciation of others. You can't do it for so long as you are planning or trying to do. You can't do it without constantly feeling on autopilot, thrown from one work to another, trying to satisfy every one of them in hopes that in return they will support your work. It is not true to you. It is not what you want or need. It is not even something that you can do, the things that they want. It is only a play, of which you are trying to learn all the phrases and rhythm, but that you can keep up with only for so long.

This life is not unfair, wrong, useless, a constant and neverending annoying and painful cycle. But it is this way for you, who doesn't have anymore that tiny but vital component - the language of your soul. You are suppressing it, you are limiting it and judging. For what? For whom? For what reason? This is not something that needs to be enough or good for others. It is not something that needs to give you incredible success, wealth or recognition. It can, but before any of that it needs only to be something that you enjoy. Truly and simply.

You don't need to find new ideas, ways, hobbies, interests, sports, studies, paths to explore - you just need to comeback to what you already know that you love. And welcome it in your Iife, starting doing it again and more. Just for your own fun and enjoyment, that will overflow from your heart to every other aspect of your life. Connecting everything, and making it free from the torture of unsatisfaction and frustration that you endure.

P.s. If you would like to receive a more personal message and guidance about your situation - find out all about it here!♡

– Pile Three,

the devil, the justice and the star

Sometimes we cross paths with those that perhaps we weren't meant to be with, we weren't meant to create and have the same story as the one we desired and pictured so well. It happens. It hurts. Then, eventually, it goes away. But when it happens again and again, one person after another... One betrayal, lie or misunderstanding after the other... How can one not notice the one element that connects them all - themselves? How can one not think, even in the slightest, that perhaps it is not working out because of who and how they are?

So one dives into it, tries to remember every single moment, analyse their own ways, with the desperate need to find that wrong something and change it, making everything in themselves right again. With the need to demonstrate that it is something that can be changed and that it won't be this way forever. That they can and will be better, more worthy, more right, and for this reason chosen by someone. And perhaps they do find it, that something, they work on it day and night, fight their own demons and who they are, and come out of it brand new. They put themselves out there, open up to people and try genuinely to connect... And then it happens all over again. The same pain, confusion, uncertainty, doubts, betrayal or a broken heart. But they did the work right? They changed, or did they not? And there it goes the fear of not being worthy no matter what, of being destined to loneliness and hurt, or perhaps of not doing enough. And some collapse, they hide, and try with all their forces to make themselves enough, to not need anyone else in their life. While others... Others don't say it out loud. Don't think about it. Hide it deep down. And try to make things work no matter what it means to accept and endure, just to not have yet another person leaving them behind.

And you... You are doing it right now. With them, or with others in your life. Subtly, unconsciously, you force yourself to stay. No matter the words you hear, the actions you see, the promises that you know are already broken and mean nothing to the person by your side. You stay. Because walking away might mean that there never will be someone else, that you will be the only one you will have.

It is difficult and painful to think about being somehow different and wrong, never enough. It is even more difficult to try to work on it and change yourself. It is difficult to face not only the pain but also the loneliness. To feel that fear of living this way forever creeping on you with each day. So staying, trying to be more understanding, patient, docile, considerate, delicate, silent and comfortable for others... Seems indeed less difficult and scary, because in return they too will stay. Even when it is clear that you are torturing and consuming yourself. Even when you so clearly and surely know that the way you are treated is not okay at all. All for that acceptance, that tiny affection, even if not genuine. All for those things that you think you will never be able to find in yourself, and might not find once the people that are now in your life will not be here anymore. A void that, perhaps, won't ever be filled with another person, with another connection or love.

But by convincing yourself to adapt to others and what they look for or don't love... You did exactly that one thing that will not allow people who are genuinely interested in you to come closer. Not when that place in your life is already occupied by another someone. Not when you show so ardently and persistently that the way you are treated is what you want.

A right person - the one that is interested in you exactly the way you are, not less not more - even when so close to you to see you... Will never be able to do something, to help you, to take you out of this play pretend and torture... Because no one can do what should start from you, what you should be ready to finally to do: to protect yourself, t be treated right, to be loved and appreciated for the way you are.

It is safe, please believe me. It is safe for you to be who you are. It is safe for you to don't accept scraps of love and attention from others. It is safe if you walk away from those who can't find that one thing they want in you, who is already perfectly fine and enough. It is safe for you to don't force it. It is safe for you to let them all go. Because the space they will leave behind them is not something so negative as you convince yourself to be. It is not a sign of loss. It is only more space for your own self to grow, to bloom, to be who you are. To shine so proudly and brightly and to be seen by those who will notice and love you. And not the ways you can adapt to someone elses need, desire or mood.

P.s. If you would like to receive a more personal message and guidance about your situation - find out all about it here!♡

_

[eatmangoesnekkid]

The Everyday Practice of Abundance Consciousness

What was I thinking? Who was I trying to be? It’s unlike me at this stage of my life to think more than I am being.  I’m no longer interesting in trying to grind it out during the wee hours of the morning. I'm taking a break from the few tasks I have left on my books for 7-10 days. I have sacred things I do to protect my body from absorbing too many EMFs, and what's also true, is that when you are a deep feeler/ highly sensitive, you receive deeper wisdom than most (which is a divine and precious gift that helps people like me to serve in the world) but you also deeply receive waves of stressful energy far more easily than most ...even with the metrics of protection surrounding you.

There is no separation or difference. If you have the gift of heart, intuition, and deeper sight, you have to manage not living in the shadows of those gifts. We weren’t physiologically designed to sit behind these computers, staring into them for days/weeks at a time which is what I have been doing. When your awareness expands, you are no longer numb to what’s happening with your body which stops you from repeating the same patterns that will deepen your body’s pain and suffering overtime. When I’m on my computer or phone too many days in a row, I can actually feel the waves draining my vitality, re-configuring my cells, and shifting the quality of my life.

Our eyes---the windows to our soul-- need to peak at trees, dirt, and sunlight undistractedly. I’m grateful that I curated a life where I can turn off my phone and computer, put them away in the back of my closet for a few days, and dust off my record player and finally read “Of Water and the Spirit.”

How we sense “time” is always a reflection of the consciousness we are living in. And there are only two types of consciousness: Fear/Scarcity/Lack or Love/Abundance/Vitality. When we release ourselves from expectations, we curate more abundant space for joy, and become free...eventually. I started shifting my energy imprint away from the consciousness of fear/scarcity/lack and into abundance consciousness around 12-15 years ago (I lost track of the exact time) despite not having any evidence of abundance in my life as I was working 50 hours per week and in a toxic relationship. In the beginning of shifting between paradigms and consciousness, there can be a lot of grave tension, release, pain, resistance, loneliness, and disruption, until finally homeostasis settles (may takes months or years). Abundance consciousness also gets us back into our bodies in real ways and allows us to genuinely love ourselves as we are, beyond every materialistic system. If we can hold the candle lit towards abundance consciousness, then the universe has no choice but to organize life around us in such a way that matches our new imprint/emanation like an algorithm...eventually. It takes time though and patience. And we have to be soft and strong enough not to give up on it or the new version of ourselves.

The Ingenious Divine Feminine Medicine Path

Let’s climb in a little deeper and get more grounded into this teaching.  What I have to say now is NOT for everyone, only for those with spiritual resonance.  My work is all about educating on how to reclaim the highest transmutation frequencies and greatest integrity that will “heal” or restore our individual selves and bring more collective harmony on this planet.  When we are not living in abundance, flooded in resources as part of our divine natural birthright, there is a part of our unconscious mind (our shadow) that likes not living in the abundance and is in love with scarcity and lack because it feels familiar and safe. We don’t *consciously* love it, of course, but we do unconsciously LOVE the drama, karma, and lack of ease--all those internal chemicals, feels, and sensations. We have to learn to love what’s happening, not just in our light but in our darkest most hidden, sometimes filthiest or dank aspects. We love being broke, not have enough “time,” feeling not enough, feeling ugly, having people be jealous of us, attracting narcissistic people... because a part of us is narcissistic or at least attracted to being victimized, etc. A portal opens when we stop outsourcing our experiences (and the raw energy coiled within them that we need) onto someone else such as “oh, but he was a narcissistic so I...” or “my boss did this so I didn’t...”  or “they made me...” Being courageous and seeing how you love and find comfort in specific exhaustive frequencies year after year, whether it is karmic or a conditioned pattern, allows you to access the dark energy within these experiences, the benevolent creative energy or “yin/feminine energy” , that gives you greater access to your full potential, the raw energy beyond the stories. Accessing this raw energy releases the resistance and stuckness and brings more flow and momentum towards your soul’s true path. This is all sexual energy. This is how we begin to love and adore the truth of what the feminine really is.

Much of the work has to do with “sexual healing,” because this is usually where the energy is stuck or kinked up that is shrinking our life force also known as prana also known as potential. Sexual healing happens when you begin to have full access to your life force energy.  Coming into full integrity with your energy body will make you feel more alive, abundant, and connected to spirit. In order to attract the kind of relationship you long for, you have to be the kind of person you desire to meet. To be ready for the most amazing relationship, you have to go into dark “wombed” energy and clear out what is inhibiting full access to your life force energy.

Returning to the Original Template: A Keeper of Infinite Possibilities

Our souls are equipped for these times but we do have to be intentional in our unlearning to override the body’s signals so that we can come back to what we we born for and share the gifts we have been entrusted with. I intentionally created my life from the wisdom and medicine I gained through my decolonial sexual healing practices, like learning to connect to the divine through undulating my hips as prayer in wild, uncultivated, ‘off-the-beaten-path’ nature. Everyone needs sexual healing due to the limits and trauma that have been inflicted upon over many timelines, not from a place of victimization, but from the archetype of the alchemist so that we can retrieve back our freedom of time, energy, and resources.

No one escapes the impact of a sexually wounded society that shrouds us in limits around time, resources, and possibility. The messaging handed down to us by our parents, by religions, and by advertising, porn, celebrities, music, etc lives active in our root posterier chain- our backs, spine, hips, glutes, knees, pelvis, and bellies. As part of the female lineage, we naturally carry around so much of what’s happening in the collective within. All the cultural, inherited, and religious sexual shame and guilt make home out of our bodies. Most of us are not fully aware of the impact that these collective residences have on our health, relationships, capacity to receive money, and other forms of abundance like “time-freedom.”  We are supposed to care, go inside ourselves like mothers delivering our own babies, and birth real solutions that do not look like us constantly absorbing and never pulling the roots.

Because nowhere in the Western world are we taught that our sexual energy is sacred, regenerates our bodies, and is connected to every part of our lives and the earth. Or that our sexual energy isn’t just about sex. It is our flow of life force. It is our heartbeat. And it is absolutely necessary to have access to our sexual energy beyond the shame and wounding if we desire to truly live. Instead we respond to our sexual energy through hurts and trauma by shutting ourselves down in order to feel safe. And these unconscious ways stay with us and effect us in every way.  All the sneaking around, embarrassment, hiding, and performing around bodies and sex, commodifying our sex mainly for the male gaze, and shame around being a sexual being actually shuts down our potential in the external world, including freedom from Gregorian time and the ability to regenerate our bodies.. Amplifying your sexual energy grows your prana/life force which means that how to increase your prana has to become a part of your wellness practice. Purifying your sexual energy is a big part of it. Without this sexual healing, we have no roots or wings. No earth, no heaven. 

Life gets to be incredibly easy and truthful for us all. We do not have force or push through like machinery. I wish you a life of abundance, where you do not have to hustle and be in constant out-put mode, and can take as many breaks as needed to water yourself (your actual cells) so that you continue to pour from your overflow and have a healthy immune system and pain-free periods as a result. Female physiology is so tender and needs abundance: rest, nature, quiet, touch, belly laughs, and breaks, basic human needs that my heart won’t allow me to ignore or bypass. When you live aligned with the consciousness of abundance, it goes against your nature and principles to force, shallow breathe, or live desperately. Abundance consciousness gives us plethora of options to choose from which includes the ability to: 1. take our time and 2. take care of our cells.  The Melody of Love is so delicious though ...that my ego wanted to push right on through like it was the end of the month when I worked as a Tax Accountant Maniac, but my heart and body whispered for me to stop. I listened. I sincerely wish for lives where we can all listen to the soft whispers that never have to become screams in order to get our attention. One loveliness xx

[bucknastysbabe]

Hi! I'm in no way involved with anything that's been going on, and not really in the best position to offer my 2-cents, but I'm going to try my best anyway and then fuck off.

I really did agree with your initial post. I don't think OP needed to bring up other fanfics to make her point about being mindful of safe sex practices- it was needless at best and perpetuated an unfortunate notion of fanfic authors being responsible for their readers' choices/ sexual health at worse. A bit rude and reactionary, and it certainly wasn't right for that commentor to name names, and it probably would've been for the best that it gotten deleted. That obviously didn't happen, and feelings were hurt, and I think that's worth talking about. Probably in private, but that's kind of out the window at this point.

Beyond that, you've brought forward a pattern that I've noticed myself. When these disputes crop up, it does seem to center around a select few within the fandom- plagiarism allegations come to mind.

Mind you, some of those accusations are categorically true. I've seen the side-by-side posts- really and truly ripped word for word and posted under a new name. In fact, there's been an ongoing case of one individual making new blogs every time they are found out and pretending to be someone else before doing the exact same thing. THAT is a pattern of behavior that cannot be ignored, and I think we can hopefully both agree that those writers affected are well within their rights to ask that people report and block the offender. As far as I've seen, they've only ever requested that- report and block, usually intermingled with some expression of their anger and frustration.

Is there a large chain reaction of their readers/followers making disparaging remarks towards the offender after these callout posts are made? Almost every time without fail. I think these get out of hand very quickly and almost always go too far.

However, is that the personal responsibility of the writers seeking to protect their work? I'd say no- no more so than expecting writers to teach their readers safe sex. We can't hold writers accountable for everything that happens in connection to their blog or what other people say, it's an unreasonable and unfair expectation perpetuated in fandom spaces everywhere. Could the writers attempt to moderate those reactions? Certainly, but that's an undue burden for a situation caused by another party (those who steal other writer's work).

Now, do I think that there are situations that have been blown out of proportion, and where the "accused" should've been afforded the benefit of the doubt, even if there are sections of their work that seem heavily inspired? Also yes. I think that the blogs you're upset with do need to be a little more careful sometimes, as they do have bigger followings that will leap to their defense when prompted. I can understand ~why~ they might feel particularly sensitive to the matter, as they've had very legitimate problems with stealing before. I'm certain that that "heightened cautiousness" has translated to quick-judgements and unearned snappy reactions towards other, smaller blogs with genuinely good intentions. That can feel shitty and I wouldn't feel fully shocked if there is a number of people who feel hurt by them. Again, it's a conversation that is worth having when it seems that someone is taking something too far, especially repeatedly. But reacting to bad-faith judgements with further bad-faith judgements does little to remedy this situation, and it's especially dangerous to conflate poor judgement with malicious intent.

The blogs you're upset about are undoubtedly strong presences within the HotD community, who could afford to be a little more mindful of their words and actions. While I can't agree with how you've gone about this, I do hope that those blogs have come to realize they should try to be more careful with how they conduct themselves.

But this whole situation has gotten blown way out of proportion- moreso than I've ever seen on their blogs. Having friends who you interact with and promote the writing of is not a sin within fandom. Vague-posting about something you read on your own blog is not worthy of being crucified for- even (sadly) if it breaches containment and gets back to that person. Being protective of the online community you've curated and built is a right for every blogger/ discord moderator- they don't owe you or anyone else anything. If you don't feel welcome, or don't like it, build your own. There's clearly plenty of people willing to join you.

But collecting every perceived offense that has ever occurred (some of it from months ago) to make a lengthy callout post is not going to help anything, and I'd strongly encourage you to reconsider dragging this out longer. It's not your place (or anyone's) to "take them down", and you might consider how your perception of them as "bitches" and "mean girls" has led you to dehumanize them.

Again, poor judgement is not comparable to malicious intent. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt here and assume you're also using the former and not the latter- They've asked to be left alone, and your posts are teetering on the edge of harassment. Please, reconsider how you go about helping those who've come to you with their grievances, because this just isn't it.

Hi, thank you for reaching out. Things are settling down a bit and I’ve talked with some people. I’m taking a step back and reevaluating. Appreciate the kindness and honesty. This did blow up more than I expected and I won’t lie, I did get caught up in a group mentality I’m not proud of and let hate fly when I shouldn’t have.

As for people’s stories. That’s something I will not back down on. That’s up to the discretion of the users to share. But yes, you are correct, there are other ways to go about this.

Thanks again for direct and rational response xo

[boldlyvoid]

Million Dollar Man | chapter two

18+

summary: Spencer's therapist recommended he branch out and meet new people who don't want to talk about his work... she didn't expect him to sign up for a Sugar Daddy website.

Content warnings: sugar daddy!spencer, age gaps (14 years), daddy kink, blow jobs, kissing, drinking mention, lowkey perv!Spencer, cum play, praise, oral (female receiving), grinding, love confessions, arrangements, Spencers anxiety, (more to add)

word count: 3.4K

a/n: updates on Wednesdays and saturdays at 2 pm est

Chapter Two | Masterlist

She sat on the subway with an anxious pit in her stomach and her purse held close to her chest. Her laptop in her bag, she didn’t want to lose it on her way to the most important meeting of her whole life.

Her story was becoming a book, she was almost done the final draft, they were making touch-ups to the cover and picking the type of paper today.

Her dreams were coming true within the next month, soon she’d have a physical copy of her book, her pre-sales were showing that she’d be on the bestseller list, and her name was finally going to be on the cover of this one.

She sighed and reached for her necklace, holding it between her fingers as she took a few deep breaths. She was doing so much better today than she was last year and it was all because of Spencer, he was the best thing to happen to her. To think she complimented his sweater vest and now he’s the only person in her life she can count on.

All she can think about is him for the rest of her journey, through 4 more stops she keeps her eyes closed as she thinks of all his little facts and his cute laugh. She smiles to herself and the anxiety slips away, she loves him and she knows that for sure, but she just doesn’t know how she loves him.

She’s never had a sibling, her best friends are all women, her previous boyfriends were all shit and her other sugar daddies were never this wonderful, and her parents are lesbians… she doesn’t know what her feelings really are for Spencer, mainly because she’s never known any other men to compare him to.

But she does know the exact moment she realized she fell for him.

He booked a hotel room in DC after a local case, asking her to meet him in there at 10 pm. She was waiting in the bathtub when he arrived, bubbles galore, her hair up and arms open, “welcome home, honey.”

He laughs, “you want me to get in there with you?”

She just nods, “let me take care of you, daddy?”

He takes off his blazer, pulls his tie off and starts to unbutton his shirt. She watches patiently as he gets undressed, and it’s not sexual to her. He’s her person, her best friend, the only human being she would ever share a moment like this with and that’s when it hits her.

She doesn’t accept it just yet.

It’s not until he’s lying on her chest, between her legs, cheek resting on her boobs as she runs a sponge over his back while he gives her a little run down on his terrible week. His co-worker almost died, his mom is stressing him out, the only good thing he has left is her and she knows that.

“And then I get to my moms facility and she’s had a really good day, she knows me and she knows all of my childhood again and she’s all right there in front of me and yet she’s so far away. I’m never going to get all the time I want with her and it’s really hard to accept.”

He shares things with her that he doesn’t even tell his therapist. Because his therapist doesn’t hold him like a child against her chest and tell him he’s okay when he get’s upset.

Y/N loves him, so she kisses his forehead, “I’m so sorry, I have 2 moms if you’d like to have one?”

“It’s okay, I would love to meet them sometime though,” he wraps his arms around her waist a little tighter under the water. “Thank you for tonight.”

“Did I mention my leg is 44 inches from hip to toe?” She asks in the middle of the silence, quoting pretty woman, knowing he hasn’t seen that far into the movie yet. “So basically we’re talking about 88 inches of therapy for the bargain price of $800 dollars a week.”

Her legs wrap around him and their naked bodies are closer than they’ve ever been and yet it’s completely platonic, “I’d spend a million dollars on you if it always meant feeling this good after.”

She runs her cheek along his wet hair as he snuggles into her neck, “mmm, I like the sound of that,” she teased. “My million dollar man.”

Her stop rolls around and she pulls herself out of her day dreams to get off the train and head to her meeting. She smiles as she walks through the station, up the stairs and onto the busy downtown streets when she gets a text with Spencers special chime. She opens it when she gets to where she’s going, safely inside and in the waiting room.

It makes her laugh in the waiting room. People look at her but she doesn’t care, he’s so special to her she feels butterflies in her stomach even when he’s not around.

“Y/N!” She hears her name being called by her editor, he’s over ecstatic as he comes running out to get her. “Come, come we have so many choices to make!” He jumps up and down as he holds her arm, like a child in a candy store.

“Andy, chill man,” she laughs at him and plays it cool, “It’s just the cover being finalized.”

“It’s our baby!” He teases back, pushing his glasses up and tugging her behind the glass doors of the office.

She’s surrounded by people and paper and huge versions of her book cover. She has a sharpie as she fixed mistakes and jots down final ideas. “And I wan’t Phil to look more human and less like data from Star Trek?”

“But Dorothy looks okay?” The artist asks, nervously and Y/N can tell.

“She looks beautiful! You really brought her justice,” she smiles, “really she looks the same in my head! It’s just Phil and I’m sure it’s tough getting a drawing to look like a robotic human, let alone human.”

“I have some ideas?” She opens up more, taking her iPad out and sliding it across the table, “I wanted to give him more of a Sophia feel? His face is silicone but his joints and everything are more like an Elon Musk crash dummy.”

“That’s perfect!” She’s shocked, “why didn’t that go in the first draft?”

“I was worried it was too much,” she’s a little older than Y/N, and yet her anxiety is that of a teenage girl. “I’m going to get working on the final, do you want some emailed versions tonight?”

“Yes please,” she smiles.

“So we’re done?” Andy asks, “we’ve made all our final calls?”

“I believe we have,” Y/N closes her laptop and takes her phone out, taking a photo of the final rough sketch of her book cover on the table to send to Spencer before he comes to pick her up. She can’t wait to see him now.

—

They’re sitting side by side in matching spa robes, he’s getting a pedicure while she gets her nails done. Leaning back in her chair with a face mask and cucumbers on her eyes, she’s never felt more relaxed in her life. And just in time too, her back was killing her from writing, her knuckles hurt and she just needed a break.

Spencer did too, he was genuinely not having a good time at work anymore, every case made him spiral and he always looked to Y/N on days like that. They met more than once a week now, she got $800 every Friday and she didn’t even really need it anymore. He was coving for so much of her bills and lively hood that her savings account was growing and growing because of him.

For the first time in her life she thought she would be okay if a man left her. As terrible as it was, as much as her moms tried to raise her differently, she fell down the daddy issues rabbit hole and she’s never going to find her way out— however, luckily for her, Spencer is down here too, and he brought a flashlight.

He understands her, more than anyone else on earth. He knows all her secrets, every crush and bad grade and snide remark she’s ever kept to herself. He didn’t judge her, he could actually listen to her issues and tell her why she had them. He gave better advice than a therapist and he was able to get information for her if he didn’t know the answer to what she was going through.

He’s absolutely everything to her and yet he’s 14 years older than her, he’s still traumatized beyond belief, he’s sad and ashamed and recovering… but he’s the best man in the whole world and she wishes he could see that. If he just looked at himself from her eyes, if he felt how she did in her soul when they were together, he’d love himself.

They’re too relaxed to drive home, and Spencer knew that would happen beforehand, bringing her a change of clothes (lingerie) and that robe me mentioned. He books a hotel above the spa and takes her to it. Arms linked as they enter the suite, she’s amazed to find more than one gift bag on the bed.

“How many gifts is this now?”

“We’re at 5 out of 24.”

She laughs as she wraps her arms around him in a thank you hug, “this is what you consider 4 gifts? Spencer there are like 8 things on the bed, let alone the massage and manicure?”

“If you think this is too much I guess you’re going to get really mad next week,” he teases as she looks up at him with a surprised look on her face.

“Spencer, I am so busy next week, I cannot be galavanting around with my sugar daddy,” she tries to act like she doesn’t want to go on an adventure with him again.

The last trip they took was the best week of her life. They went to all the historical sites in the UK that she and Spencer had talked about. Mainly old churches and castles, strange poets graves, random art and most importantly; stone henge. It was a trip of a lifetime and he took it with her.

“I watched the rest of Pretty Woman the other day,” he smiles, “and I thought I’d pull an Edward Lewis and really surprise you because you deserve it.”

“You know how the movie ends, right?” Her heart beats really fast in her chest and she wants him to love her so bad but it’s also terrifying now that she’s this close.

“He lets her choose,” he whispers.

“He rescues her,” she corrects him.

“And she rescues him right back,” he really did watch the end of the movie.

It makes her heart skip a beat as she swallows sharply, “what does this mean for us?”

“I have a whole plan, a whole sequence of events I want to stick to. I wanted to make you fall in love with me this week and ask you on your birthday, can we still do that?” He pleads with her, he’s so serious. He’s clearly put a lot of effort into this.

“Absolutely,” she smiles, “but if you’re going to make me wait that long for you to ask, you still can’t kiss me till then. No matter how much I already love you.”

“Really?” He’s so soft with her, she knows he’s not reacting to the teasing. He’s never had someone tell him they love him and then stay after.

“I would never lie to you about that, spence. I know what love means to you, I know how scared you are and I’m scared too. But I know there is no one else in the whole world I’d rather be scared with than you,” she holds him tighter and rubs her nose against his, “so what’s in the bags, daddy? Finish your surprise.”

She plays along perfectly, stepping back and hauling him towards the bed. “I got you some outfits and things for the next 2 weeks, we have a few things planned. We’re going on a flight soon, I have new luggage being delivered to your apartment this week and we’re going to see your moms for 3 days.”

“No,” she shakes her head, “there’s no way, Spencer, I haven’t seen them in 5 years, I’m going to cry.”

“I know,” he cups her jaw with his hand. “They’re really excited to see you.”

She hugs him tight, kissing his neck as she holds him. “Thank you, daddy, do you want me to put something on for you now?”

“I’m just going to take it off you, plus, what your wearing is sexy enough, he whispers back. “You’re always so beautiful, baby.”

“I thought you were saving the best for last?” She asks as she pulls back, overly eager and he can tell.

“I want to repay the favour from the other night.”

She doesn’t mean to gasp and yet she does, “please?”

He pulls on the tie of her robe, opening it enough to snake a hand behind her back and draw her in with a hand on her bare back. “Please what?”

“Please, daddy?” She looks up with her best begging eyes, perfect pout and all. “I want you to touch me, I promise I’ll be a good girl.”

He steps away from her to swipe all the bags off the bed before picking her up and laying her back against the pillows. He kisses down her body, hand on her lover back as she arches, he drags his bottom lip from her belly button to her cleavage. Nipping and sucking at the exposed skin on her chest, pulling her breasts out of the bra to suck on her nipples, she moans and it’s louder than she expected.

As she plays with his hair, he marks her, bruising small little love bites all the way down as he makes his way between her legs, “take me, please?”

He’s been dreaming of this for so long, he can’t even give you an accurate number of times his mind has drifted to the thought of how wonderful she would taste, how beautiful she’d sound…

“Tell me how badly you want me?” He asks as he spreads her legs and kisses her left thigh.

“I haven’t had sex in 10 months while waiting for you. Daddy, please you’ve owned me for so long, just take what’s yours already for gods sa- OH!”

With a broad lick, his tongue flattens against her core and it shuts her up. She gets what she wants, holding into his hair as she tosses her head back, taking it all in and enjoying it. He’s been on her mind for months, every time her vibrator was where he is now, she thought of him. he’s been the man of her dreams longer than she’s known him, and he was proving it.

“Right there, daddy,” she speaks through shallow breaths, “do you know how much I’ve thought of this?”

“You know I don’t,” the vibrations of his voice against her skin are glorious, he looks up at her through his lashes as his tongue flicks over her clit and she shakes a bit.

“Fuck,” she gasps, gripping his hair tighter, “better than I thought you’d be, fuck, too bad you— Jesus, don’t have the stash anymore…”

He stops and looks up at her, the smirk on his face glistening with her juices, “the stash?”

She nods, “I’ve thought about calling it the pussy tickler,” she teases, running her hand down his cheek and swiping her thumb across his bottom lip before bringing it up to her mouth to taste, “I want more of you.”

He kisses back up her body and she reaches for his robe the second he’s close enough. “Just grind against me? I know you’re waiting but we can still feel good together?”

He kisses the side of her mouth and she takes that as a yes, wrapping her legs around him so his hard cock is pressed right against her core as they move their hips in synchronicity with each other. His breathing is heavy as he kisses her cheek and jaw, her nails scratch down his back, he feels absolutely amazing against her.

She feels so empty, she wants him so bad she’s clenching around nothing as she squirms against his cock and wishes she was full.

“I wish I could move time,” she whispers. “Fuck, why can’t it be my birthday?”

He laughs against her, grazing his teeth over her neck and drawing another moan from her but then he stops moving his hips, “why are you so impatient?”

“Remember I said I stopped enjoying everything? Well, taking a 10 month break from sex and thinking about you every time I got off has made me desperate,” her hand cups his cheek, “I’d wait forever for you, but a girl needs to be fucked hard every once in a while.”

Only she could find a way to make something both profoundly beautiful and whorish at the same time, he loved her for it and she knew that now. He smiles and leaned in to rub his nose against hers and it takes everything in her not to kiss him. The same way it was taking everything in him not to slip into her as he began to grind against her once more.

She’s so close, the accidental edging has added a whole new level of desperation she’s never felt before. She wants to cum for him so bad, but more importantly she wants him to cum for her.

“Take my bra off,” she whispers, Spencer’s hands travel behind her back to unclasp it and he helps her out of it before tossing it to the floor.

“Cum for me daddy,” she whispers in his head with a hand in his hair, gripping him tightly as he bites at her neck, “cover me with your cum like you’re marking your territory.”

“Shit,” his hips sputter against hers.

“Say it, I know you want to,” she teases, so close to the edge but it’s too good of an opportunity. She loves seeing him fall apart like this and she can’t wait to see it again. “Who’s am I?”

“Daddy’s girl.”

He grinds down on her harder and faster and she’s so close, the bubble in her gut is reaching a fever pitch and with a gasp, she’s cumming and then she feels it. His load covers her stomach as he pants against her neck and grips her hips tighter as he comes down.

She wraps her arms around him and holds him as close as humanly possible, her breathing still heavy as he rises and falls on her chest. He’s heavy but she doesn’t care, she just kisses the top of his head and thanks him.

He brushes his nose against her neck, nuzzling her like a cat, “do you really mean it?”

“What, honey?” He remembers so much, this could be a question about something she said 2 months or 2 minutes ago and she has no clue.

“You’re not just playing along with my kinks right, you genuinely want to be mine?”

For being her million dollar man, his heart sure was broke. This is why he wasn’t ready, he still didn’t understand why she would want to stay without anything in return, he’s gotten so used to paying her for her time now that his anxiety has managed to convince him that she’ll leave when he stops being worth it to her.

“What does my necklace say?” She asks, knowing how close he was to it. “Read it to me, I forget.”

“Daddy’s girl,” he smiles again.

She soothes her hands over his back, “I would do anything with you because I love and trust you, but also because everything you do is sexy… you could read me the dictionary and I’d still want you to pump me full of cum after.”

“It sounds so crude after,” he laughs, “speaking of, we really need to have a shower.”

“I’ll wash your back if you wash mine?” She teases as he gets up.

“Only if you let me wash the front too?”

She smacks his bare ass and races him into the bathroom, turning on the water and getting in with him while still laughing and carrying on. He’s her best friend in the whole world, there’s no one else she would rather do this with… there was no one she has done this with. No one has made her feel this good, before during and after sex.

Spencer Reid was an anomaly, but he was hers.

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[ialwaysknewyouwerepunk]

fine line - a close reading

gonna cry bc i’m at the end, gonna cry bc it’s fine line.

(x x x)

want to give the same disclaimer as with lights up: this song is so layered, so multi-faceted, that i could never hope to give an exhaustive analysis. due to its vagueness and openness for interpretation, i assume that everyone, just like me, has their own ideas about it and has attached importance to it in ways that no one else’s words can or should alter. this song means the world to me for reasons that aren’t necessarily in this post, and that’s how it is with art that touches us deeply. i’ve tried my best to pull it apart, lay it bare, spread it open, if you will, so it’s almost as free as it can be for you all to form your own opinion on it. in the synthesis i will make my own conclusions, but feel free to ignore that if yours are totally different. i’m just one set of brain and heart taking in fine line and projecting whatever i think is right onto it. alright, let’s go

fine line, track 12

sung in falsetto

live version at the form: first verse not sung in falsetto - after first chorus goes into falsetto - like “thinking of her” has summoned her

live version at the form: first verse not sung in falsetto - after first chorus goes into falsetto - like “thinking of her” has summoned her

Put a price on emotion

pouring emotions into the art you create: how much is genuine / how much do you show - line between being authentic to your audience and giving away too much, wanting to keep things to yourself and not feeling truthful with what you’ve written

exploits of the industry: lay your soul bare - or the exact opposite, some pretend emotion - to score that hit

I'm looking for something to buy

cynical. emotions aren’t genuine, right? where can i go buy some?

～ lights up themes. fake life, industry, being a sell-out

You've got my devotion

But man, I can hate you sometimes

“you” = career, music, Harry Styles™. devoted to the craft, to the job, all the ups and downs of it, despite the hardships it brings 

“man” is deliberate: can be seen as an offhand interjection, like “man, that’s rough”, but nothing is casually placed in this song. “man” is: The Man, the heads in the industry, the people pulling the strings. The man in Harry, the man he’s been in the media all these years, the part he’s played/had to play, the man that’s in him

⟶ “hate you”: hate for industry shit, self-hate created by having to play pretend (～ only angel analysis, the persona of the Bukowski womaniser)

“sometimes” - it’s not fucked up all the time

“you” could also be a lover, but the sudden “hate” there then would be for that person, which is absent in any other song about them, doesn’t make any sense

I don't want to fight you

And I don't want to sleep in the dirt

like there’s a choice to me made, but he doesn’t want to make it: either I fight this “you” or I sleep in the dirt

“you” as the industry: if he doesn’t fight them, he might end up being a beggar, lose all his self-worth bc he gave in to everything they asked/told him to do

“you” as himself: fight your instincts, part of who you are/the persona. if he doesn’t fight to figure himself out, though, he fears he’ll also lose

“sleep in the dirt” as a sense of rejection, as well

We'll get the drinks in

So I'll get to thinking of her

drinks to cope - falling, only angel, from the dining table - or to be braver and confront emotions better - tbsl

who is “we”? who is “her”?

narrative of “you” as “lover” further disproven: if “I” and the lover get together over drinks and “I” starts thinking of “her”?

⟷ “her” could be the lover, but then who is “you”? the industry? some other person, besides that lover, harry is devoted to? multiple lovers, all of a sudden? no.

⟶ “I” and “you” are all harry, that get to thinking of “her” because she is in daydreams with him. the narrative that harry is fighting a part of him, the persona he has (had) to play bc of industry limits, makes most sense. that persona is within him now, and part of his work, but all of him, “we”, is begging to come into the light - of which she is a huge part

We'll be a fine line

balancing act. let everything coexist but pay attention that those lines don’t get crossed the wrong way. what we are, what i am, is a fine line between what makes us go under and what lets us thrive

we will be: determination to fulfil this prophecy, statement of fact “we always will be”

“we’ll be a fine line”: other way of interpreting it is that on both sides of that line is what entails “we”, all that is harry. what merges on that fine line is where it’s just right, when harry is fully himself in every way

“fine line” can also be an echo of criticism, bigotry, in the style of: it’s a fine line between being simply flamboyant and queer, between dressing like that and people thinking you’re a transvestite or summat (cause we wouldn’t want that, now, would we) - “we’ll be a fine line” could be owning all of it. putting himself in the middle of all those messy lines, as someone queer without a category

Test of my patience

patience with himself - kindness to self - took a long time to figure shit out and it was a challenge

waiting for change: industry and its allowances/openness

There's things that we'll never know

my favorite line

“we” = harry / harry and company / us in general, all of us listening 

～ tpwk “i don’t need all the answers”: deep sense of acceptance

peace to be found in accepting this!!

You sunshine, you temptress

“sunshine” - as in all the love songs (blue skies, sunflowers, summer days…): lover - possible that there are multiple “you”s in this song?

sunshine could ofc also be directed at the temptress, still

female “temptress” - “i’ll get to thinking of her” - she - it’s tempting for harry to think of her all the time, to lose himself in the “her” in him

other interpretation for “temptress”: woman he knows with negative influence in his life - resemblance to woman “you flower, you feast”, so echo of Bukowski ～ only angel, kiwi (my sunshine, my love, who is involved with this temptress…)

My hand’s at risk, I fold

⟷ tpwk “dropping into the deep end”

not showing his cards just yet / forfeits

anxious to show all of him, to take the chance, with all the risks and consequences involved

Crisp trepidation

I’ll try to shake this soon

nervousness, anxiety - about (not) taking (enough) chances, (not) laying himself bare (release of the album that reveals much more than before)

“crisp” fresh, this feeling is unfamiliar - change is coming “soon”

sense of agency: I can get rid of this feeling by my own volition and make these changes - hesitant, insecure: “try”

wants to be braver. he’s not going back, but still needs to calmly coax himself further and further into the light, out into the open (“we’ll be alright”)

Spreading you open

Is the only way of knowing you

(can anyone else hear “spread thin” like a whisper under “spreading”? or am i imagining things.)

“you” is back - the only way of knowing “you” is to spread them open - the physical

to spread someone open - very literal, don’t need to paint the picture, or to lay bare, to lay it all out 

⟶ “you” as himself - the only way of knowing who i am is by doing this: writing this album, performing these songs, letting others listen in and form their own interpretations, let this world grow where i’m laid bare and OPEN and exist as this person who has issues, who is angry, who doesn’t know who he is a lot of the time, but is still so happy to be here - let it spread and let it all circle back to me so i can grow deeper into myself

We'll be a fine line

We'll be alright

“we” = h & self, h & lover, h & fans

collectiveness from tpwk

(notes on a piano sounding like drops, like he’s emerged from the water and dripping dry)

SYNTHESIS

Everything about this song is plural. Personal pronouns are all over the place. I, you, her, we. The sound is incredibly layered, with Harry’s own voice echoing through its verses like he’s singing to himself in an empty cave. Meanings can be attached to every word like it’s a wax tablet used too many times. What Harry has said in interviews for once holds pretty true to the actual meaning, in my opinion. 

“It felt like it described to me the process of making it and how the album felt in terms of the different kinds of songs on it.” (Capital FM)

This can mean a lot of things, and I think it means all of the things, of course. It means Fine Line is a summary of all of his emotions he visited on the album, of the things he’s laid bare. And it means that the actual process was also described, as one that can be frustrating and challenging, with added industry shit. 

Harry has expressed straightforward gratefulness to his label for "leaving (him) alone” while making the album and that speaks volumes. This time, he had the chance to make his art without the constant interference of a label, which meant he could weave in criticism as well. “Put a price on emotion” is first and foremost a critique on the industry. It’s the first line of the song, setting the tone for the interpretation of this song is about the risks I took while making this album. It involves criticism on an industry that creates such an atmosphere that only a certain type of music and artist breaks through or can be successful, that limits people in their personal expression. Convinces them that it’s better that way. That it’s better to hide who they love because the general public won’t accept them. That it’s better to create a song about a fake emotion than be honest. Harry loves writing songs and being on stage, but it’s taken a while for him to be fully comfortable there as a solo artist and bloom into the person that could make Fine Line. He loves his career, but it’s also limited his freedom in ways beyond our comprehension, and it’s exploited him to the point where he didn’t know who he was, in ways that have clearly taken a toll on his mental wellbeing. To a point where he finishes this album reassuring himself, most of all, that everything will be alright.

That process of making Fine Line obviously includes Harry confronting emotions he hadn’t before. He has stated that he experienced the highest highs and the lowest lows while making it. There are things he hates, he was fighting but doesn’t want to (anymore), uncertainties he was trying to figure out but had to accept he couldn’t, risks he still doesn’t know he can take without shaking. At the centre of it all is this sense of “knowing you.” The different personal pronouns in the song paint a fractured picture, which is ultimately deliberate. That the “you” Harry is devoted to and can hate sometimes doesn’t line up with “her,” that the end focus does seem to be this “you” that is mentioned in the same breath as “man” and “temptress,” forming the “we” together with “I”. 

After having songs like Lights Up, She, Falling and even TPWK, one of the central themes on the album has undoubtedly been self-discovery, in all its pain and glory. There are no female pronouns on the album besides, obviously, in She, and then here, in Fine Line. She is about a man living with a woman “just in his head”, who “sleeps in his bed while he plays pretend.” It is very clearly a trans narrative, the story of someone struggling to put into words what they’re experiencing in terms of gender. To a point that they fantasise about running away. Fine Line brings the ideas of knowing what it all means, which Lights Up kicks off (“do you know who you are?”), Falling deepens (“what am I now?”) and Treat People With Kindness turns on its head (“I don’t need all the answers”), together. Harry is still doubtful, and the questions asked earlier in the album haven’t disappeared, but he has accepted that “some things we’ll never know.” His aim, however, is still “knowing you.” 

To have Fine Line, as the summary of these emotions of self-growth and self-discovery, echo that one female pronoun, speaks volumes. It is a direct reference to She, to that story about gender. “Her” in this song refers to “she (who) lives in daydreams with (him).” The one who still only fully comes out when they’ve had a drink. The one he’s still working to include in who he is, as he tries to figure out who he is, all of it. The song where he sings in falsetto, just like on Fine Line. Of which he sang the first verse an octave lower live at the forum, switching between those voices, those perspectives. That’s also why “you” in this song is also Harry to me. We get this fractured sense of self, this “I” and “you” conversing over a drink, this “you” Harry is devoted to and wants to figure out. “You” and “I” form “we” and all of them are Harry. The lines are blurry on purpose, there is no way to figure out where “you” ends and “I” begins. 

“You sunshine, you temptress” is the most enigmatic line in that respect, and to me blurs those lines even more between the pronouns. “You” is suddenly also identified by a female noun. And no this isn’t about some kind of love triangle. “Sunshine” aligns with all the odes to his lover in the rest of the album. So what does that mean? That there are multiple “you”s in this song, meaning that Harry is addressing both his lover and a temptress? So “her” he’ll get to thinking of, the only other female pronoun used in the song, is identified as a temptress, but tempting to do what? To take risks? And no I won’t forget the “man, I can hate you sometimes,” where "man” is not a casual interjection but an identifier of “you.” 

Or is it an echo of “the light” from Golden’s “bring me back to the light” and Light’s Up’s “step into the light”? So that the “sunshine” symbolises being in the clear, being out of the darkness running through his heart, the darkness caused by not knowing who you are. “You sunshine,” you beacon of light. “You temptress,” risk-taker and source of anxiety. You, one I need to spread open to figure out, to know about, source of happiness and despair, one I’m devoted to but also hate. You, man, you, temptress. You there, in the mirror looking back at me. 

All of you, and myself included, we’ll be a fine line. And we’ll be alright.

This song is about all of that. The self in art, the self on its own, the other, the journey, the chances, the fears, the passion. Hope. Reassurance. Confidence. And, most importantly, that everything will be alright in the end.

x

read all my lyric analyses here

[light-yaers]

No Saints: Chapter One

This content is explicit and is 18+

Warnings: Graphic sexual content, violence, implied effects of PTSD, death and explicit language.

Read on Ao3 here | Fic Masterpost

A/N: Hey everyone! So, after some consideration, I’ve also decided to post each No Saints chapter on individual Tumblr posts, as well as Ao3. I know some people like reading things on Tumblr and it must just seem easier if there are actual chapters uploaded to here as well. I’ll be posting them all over the next few days and then we’ll be all caught up! 

This also means that I can now have a TAG LIST, so if you’d like to be notified for when Chapter Nine comes out, then please tell me and I’ll tag you when I update next. 

Once again please excuse any small spelling or grammar mistakes. No beta we die like men.

Word Count - 7.3k

Chapter One

Working as a mechanic on Nevarro didn’t often gift you the visual of friendly faces, and that was no different with the Mandalorian—he never showed his face. You wouldn’t know his smile even if he decided to wake up one day without slotting Beskar all over his body.

But you knew his stance, the broadness of his shoulders, his preference for short range blasters with the safety close enough for his index finger to reach before firing at will. You didn’t really know people on Nevarro, but you knew their weapon of choice.

It was knowledge that had ended up being valuable, both to your survival, and to that of the Mandalorian.

“I’ll pay you for this information,” He offered bluntly. He never begged, nor did he show his true emotions within his modulated voice very often. The only vague emotion you’d seen him give off was anger—seething and insatiable— the first time he’d ever approached you for a repair.

“What good will this information give you?” You asked, genuinely. “I don’t know their names, this is hunter country. No one ever gives away their identity,”

“A weapon needs someone doing the firing,” He replied simply.

You agreed to his terms, partly from the initial fear that he would harm you, think you to be working against the Guild, but also from the generous sum he was willing to give you for every piece of information you passed onto him.

And thus, began a sort-of partnership that you’d never expected.

You were no saint. You knew the damage done by the goods you willingly sold to trained killers, assassins, Guild members. You saw the bodies dragged from their ships to the Guild, you saw the bounties that went out, kicking and screaming and spitting at their captors—

You saw the blood and dirt and flakes of flesh with every weapon upgrade or repair, but now, you didn’t bat an eye. It was business, it was your livelihood, and it was good money, thanks this this agreement with the Mandalorian that you’d made a while back.

Mando arrived back on Nevarro every few weeks. His condition was always subject to review; sometimes he flowed through your doors, ready for a quick exchange; other times, he took his time with it, sitting opposite you as you went through the recent repair logs, discussing the types of people that came through your doors.

Over the months, however, he always ended up sticking around for longer periods of time. Whether it was from earlier exhaustion, or the normalcy of having a conversation that didn’t end in bloodshed, you didn’t mind. He was the only constant in your life, splitting up your weeks and months when, before, honest interaction had basically been at zero.

“Are you not worried?” He asked one evening. It was late, and your shop was technically closed. You’d awoken to the subtle clicks of your entrance being lockpicked, hoisting yourself out of bed in nothing but your nightwear and grabbing the blaster you kept by your pillow.

You’d rushed to the shop front, aiming your blaster right at his chrome covered head. He’d raised his hands immediately, not once going for his own weapon. The feeling in the pit of your stomach as you lowered your weapon hadn’t been one of anxiety, but of warmth—he trusted you enough not to grab his weapon, not to even incline that he was going to shoot you.

“Worried about what?” You replied, flicking through the logbook.

“A bounty escaping, knowing that you shared this information,” You stopped flicking through the pages, freezing slightly where you sat opposite him. You sensed his sudden unease, deciding to look up directly into his visor.

“Tell me this, Mando,” You began. “What’s my name?”

He looked at you blankly, but you liked to imagine what facial expression he pulled beneath his helmet. In this moment, you imagined he was almost panicking, trying desperately to think back at what your name could be. It’d been over six months, yet names were never properly discussed. His silence proved that he’d just realised this.

“See? You don’t know it. My face is somewhat known here, sure, but my name? I try not to share it as much as you try not to show your face,” You sent him a raised brow smirk. Innately, you felt you had a responsibility to come across stronger than you looked, which is why you shoved down those subtle flickers of anxiety that arose from his question.

Sure, you had those doubts, anyone would. But living on Nevarro, doing what you did, it was an element of the job that you simply had to expect. You suspected Mando also knew that feeling well.

“You’re single-handedly keeping me in business, Mando,” You chuffed, almost sadly, but kept up an unbothered attitude. “I wasn’t going to turn this down and all these months down the line, no matter the danger, wouldn’t change that.” You ended, and you could have sworn you heard him breathe out, almost as if he was relieved that you knew these conditions from the beginning.

You kept flicking through the logbook, until you finally stumbled across a repair. “Here it is,” You perked up, shuffling yourself round so Mando could see the book over your shoulder. Your index finger grazed the page, just underneath the line he was looking for. “Repaired his blaster pistol last month. He didn’t look like a hunter, more like a scared blurrg, from what I can recall,”

“Young? Old?” Mando questioned.

“On the young side, definitely. Looked more like a runaway than anything else,” You added, feeling a strange pang of guilt in your chest. Usually, you divulged the weapon information of other hunters gone rogue, wanted by the Guild; assassins and thieves, or whatever other dirt washed up on Nevarro and in your shop.

This, however—you remembered him. He was young, he was scared, shaking like a newly born calf when he’d bumbled into your shop.

“That fits the bill,” Mando stated, before rising from his seat. You followed suit, making your way back round your front work desk and slotting the logbook beneath it. You tried to keep your expression blunt when you turned back to him, but you couldn’t help the wave of overthinking that landed in your brain.

You stared at him, leaning against the desk until your shoulders rose to cover your neck. You couldn’t stop yourself from letting out a sigh, but evidently that was enough for you to get the Mandalorian’s attention.

“What?” He spoke harshly, in the same old modulated boom you were used to hearing. You forced yourself to stay still, trying desperately to find his eyes beneath the abyss of his dark visor, but of course it was no use.

“Don’t break into my shop next time,” You diverted your emotions. “Just knock if it’s after hours,”

Mando nodded once, the moonlight gleaming off the chrome that surrounded his face for just a second, before disappearing once more. He shuffled a leather gloved hand through his satchel for just a few seconds, before approaching you at the work desk.

Unceremoniously, he placed your pay in front of you, each credit dropping with a small ping against the metal surface.

“See you,” Mando said bluntly. You nodded in return, before the Beskar covered man left your shop swiftly, shutting your door gently on his way out. You stared at the credits disapprovingly, before going to relock the door behind him.

You forced yourself to shuffle through your pay, counting the credits so you could note them in your budget, but you furrowed your brows as you finished rounding them up. You must have counted them wrong—there were an extra five hundred credits than what you’d agreed with the Mandalorian all those months ago.

Shaking your head, you went about recounting them, only to get to the same exact outcome. Was it an honest mistake in his counting, or had he overpaid you? Tipped you, helped you, heard the way your voice had almost faltered when you’d told him he was keeping you afloat?

You were awash with a new type of conflict—somewhere between thanks and extreme anger. The thanks were certain; he’d listened, and he hadn’t needed to do that, but he’d done it anyway. The anger; this implied you owed him now. As much as you’d come to enjoy his occasional visits every few weeks, the man was still an utter mystery to you. You didn’t want him to have the option of springing up in here and asking for a favour, knowing that he’d done one for you prior.

But there was still a warmth—it came subtly and out of the blue often, when you were around him. You could have slapped yourself at how fast it came this time round, taking you by surprise and speeding your heart rate up beneath your ribs.

He’s a bounty hunter. Get over it.

You placed your usual cut in your savings bundle, in the safe by your bed, but the extra five hundred stayed out of that bag. You shuffled back into bed with no indication of tiredness flooding over you again. All you saw in the static darkness of your grimy bedroom was the outline of that damn helmet—

And the wonder of what lay beneath.

The next week and a half was long and soul-crushingly slow. You’d had about three repair requests total, completing them all in a matter of hours, not making more than a few thousand credits from the sales. Nevarro had seemed restless recently, with less hunters returning to the Guild for more pucks. Maybe it was just a slow week.

Mando arrived back in the evening again, after you closed your doors early for the weekend. The sunlight trickled over Nevarro sparsely, but that evening was particularly warm, so you decided to have some fun.

Your shop had a back courtyard, nothing major, but you’d transformed it into a mini-firing range a year or so back. You were firing a classic blaster when you heard him approach from behind you—you jumped out of your skin at the sight of him, blaster raised, defensive stance donned.

“I told you to knock, Mando,” You boomed out, clutching your heart and switching the safety on your blaster immediately. Mando raised his arms in subtle apology, but you could have sworn you saw the subtle shake of his shoulders beneath the Beskar.

“You sounded... busy,” He spoke, and you squinted at him, feeling your cheeks flushing. The bastard was laughing. He was silently giggling beneath his helmet, the only indication of his lapse of stoicism being from the tiniest movement of his chest and shoulders, almost indecipherable.

You shot him an amused scowl. “Did you—,”

“I locked it,” He replied, already knowing what you were asking. You gulped down surprise at his immediate response, turning back to your makeshift firing range and trying desperately to calm yourself down.

Now, you were a strong woman, that was no question. But the constant mystery of the last six months in Mando’s presence had provided you with more than you’d bargained for. Was it a reflex to suddenly feel invested in this guy’s life after a while? To want to know his backstory, his missions, his favourite breakfast food or blaster style?

The extra credits from your previous trade had only increased these feelings. What was it about a man in a mask? Or, more specifically, what was it about Mando?

And now, as you awkwardly struggled with the safety on a blaster you’d been firing since you were twelve fucking years old, all you could think about was the tone of his voice as he’d said I locked it.

“You shoot?” Mando questioned, moving round to stand next to you. You shot him a smirk, trying to conceal the thoughts within your head.

“I don’t just repair blasters, if that’s what you mean,” You could have cringed at how cocky you’d sounded, but it was too late.

“Show me,” He spoke. He didn’t demand it, but the way his voice arched it was as if he could make anyone do anything he said, just from the steadiness of that modulated drawl.

You did as you were told. You shook off your limbs subtly, before flicking off the safety and aiming at the targets you’d made. In flashes of green, you hit one, two, three targets with ease, right in the centre of their bullseye.

You changed it up, feeling a surge of confidence, or perhaps the want to impress this stoic man. Skilfully, you flipped the blaster in your hands until it had transferred to your other hand, firing another three times on the same targets and hitting them dead centre once more.

Your index finger clicked the safety on, before you stood in place, admiring the shots you’d fired.

“Try this one,” He said beside you, before he plucked the blaster from your hand and replaced it with this own weapon. You looked it over as it slotted into your grasp. It was heavier than yours, bigger, with a more distanced safety, probably because of the hand width that the Mandalorian possessed.

You furrowed your brows at his blaster, smiling at the way the steel glinted. It was well cared for, polished and gleaming, but slightly worn away around the trigger. Well-used. His own personalised weapon.

You raised the blaster towards the targets, all too aware of the way that chrome helmet was tilted towards you. You steadied your arm, applying just the right amount of pressure against the trigger, before it fired in quick succession—

You analysed the blast fire, the weight, the wind, fixing your trajectory upon impact with the trigger in a matter of milliseconds. When you stopped firing, overseeing the new collection of burning holes in the targets, you realised you’d hit them all dead centre again.

To your delight, or to your utter amazement, Mando let out a low, long whistle from beneath his Beskar.

“That’s a custom weapon,” He spoke afterwards, moving to stand before you. “Not many people could change their shooting style like that to fit the blast radius,” It was the closest thing to a compliment that you’d ever heard him offer.

You stayed silent as he replaced his blaster with your own once more, sheathing his weapon before his visor looked straight into your soul. It was shameful, how you realised you could probably stand there and analyse the chiselled and curved edges of his helmet for hours, how if you focused strongly, you could see him breathing beneath his heavy armour.

You forced yourself to step back, looking back towards the shop. “Right—business,” You said, heading inside immediately with Mando following on your tail.

You dropped your blaster on your work desk, grabbing the logbook and getting ready to flick through it once more, before Mando spoke up.

“I seek no information today,” He revealed. You froze, before slotting the logbook back beneath the desk slowly, trying to wrap your mind around his reason for visiting you.

“Okay,” You said, upon rising from beneath the desk once more. All of a sudden, you remembered his money—burning a hole in the safe in your room. You perked up, slapping your hands on the desk for lack of what the fuck to even do before getting round to almost scolding this man. “Then, I have a bone to pick with you,”

Mando dropped himself onto his usual stool, flicking his cape behind him and leaning back in subtle comfort. You swallowed, trying not to interpret anything from his clearly at ease behaviour, before heading to your bedroom quickly.

“Not the first time I’ve heard that,” He spoke up from the shop floor, and your heart skipped. Was that an attempt at a joke? At some comedy? You had to stop yourself, as you got to the floor and riffled through your safe for his overpaid credits, from allowing a warmth to spread through your gut.

You wanted to curse, as loud as you could. Had it really been that long that you were getting flustered over words from a Mandalorian? Undoubtedly the most hostile and unwelcoming people the galaxy had?

Or, was it just Mando himself that had you overthinking every sentence, every visit?

Credits secured in your fist, you made your way back out to the shop, dropping yourself opposite him and grabbing his arm suddenly, not stopping to think that this man could probably break you in half with his bare hands.

You dropped the credits in his gloved hand, sitting back as he stared at the pellets he now cradled in his palm.

“Not what we agreed,” Is all you said in explanation, picking up a tankard of water and sipping some down your throat, for lack of knowing how to cover up your neon cheeks after the exchange. The weather. It’s just the heat.

“I upped your pay,” He retorted.

“Bullshit, Mando,” You retaliated, allowing a few chuckles to escape your lips. Your face softened then, as you looked over to him, sitting awkwardly, still not knowing what to do with the returned credits. “Your money is your money, Mando. I’m fine with what we agreed,”

His fingers finally clasped around the credits, as his body went back to relax against the wall once more.

“Your shop,” Mando began. “You said I keep you in business,”

“That doesn’t mean I want more of your credits. Owning a washed-up weapons repair shop on kriffing Nevarro isn’t ideal, but neither is being a bounty hunter,”

“You’d earn more as a hunter with the way you shoot,” Mando replied instantly. You perked your brow, sending him a small smile.

“Are you saying I’m not a good weapons mechanic?”

You almost burst out laughing with the way Mando straightened himself, immediately being on edge. His fists tightened, almost as if he was suddenly overthinking if he’d insulted you or not.

“N-no,” He partially stuttered out, but you couldn’t keep your laughter contained. You burst out in giggles, overseeing his complete lack of sarcastic understanding. It was endearing; it made him appear more human.

“Joke, Mando. It was a joke,”

He relaxed after that once more, albeit more hesitantly. He went to slot the credits back in his bag placed on the floor, and as he did so, you allowed yourself to indulge. Beskar gleamed as he leant down, showing the twist of his torso and outlining strong triceps on the small amount of him that was unarmoured.

His neck was slender, compared to the size of his helmet. You wondered how the hell he wore that thing constantly. It didn’t look light, nor did you expect it to be all that comfortable.

If he saw you gawking when he rose once more, he didn’t make any indication of noticing. To avoid revealing what you’d been doing, you moved to cross your legs as a save. “So, why’re you here?” You finally asked, remembering that he had no reason to have visited you.

Mando tensed up slightly at your question, but not enough to come across as surprised. He’d already admitted to not needing information from you today.

“Habit,” He replied honestly. His one-word answer cut through you like a knife, striking your core and filling it with that warmth one again. It wasn’t often that you felt exposed, but sat opposite him, in your home, hearing him be so unapologetically honest had simply made those thoughts rise to the forefront of your mind once more.

You wanted to know him, but you also knew that asking him these things would result in nothing good.

You forced yourself to swallow down these rising wants, to push them away completely, before putting on a small smile. “That’s a funny way of saying that I’m your only friend,”

All effort to force those feelings away dissolved, as soon as you heard the low, modulated chuckles from beneath his helmet. They floated through the room, along with the image of his shaking shoulders and tight chest as his laughter tumbled to the floor.

You felt your cheeks flush immediately, knowing that it would be a noticeable blush. You grabbed your tankard, bringing it to your lips as you continued to indulge in looking at him, as he calmed down from the small burst of laughter that he allowed himself to show you.

There was something pulsing within you that you simply couldn’t contain; that want; that desire, after so long without knowing anyone on this godforsaken planet. Before you could stop yourself, words were already tumbling from your mouth.

“I don’t see many people on this planet, besides you,” You admitted. Mando slowly turned his visor to you, making it known that you had his full attention.

You immediately felt too vulnerable, resulting in you standing from your seat and heading round to your work desk, slamming the tankard down on the top. “It’s... well, it’s nice. I hope that, even if you don’t need information, you continue to come by,”

You held your breath as soon as you stopped talking, too afraid that you’d overstepped a line. Not that this transaction with him had ever been professional, but you knew Mandalorian’s were inherently focused on their job, and their job only.

When he didn’t reply, or move, or do anything, you started to panic. You played it off as best as you could, by downing the rest of the water in your tankard and averting your gaze to beneath your work desk, like you had the immediate need to start taking inventory.

Mando rose a few moments later, grabbing his satchel and placing it over his shoulder. The breath caught in your throat as he approached your desk. You almost gasped as a gloved hand reached for your forearm, dragging it out to hover in front of him.

He dropped the five hundred credits into your palm as your eyes flicked over his helmet at light speed. He stepped back, removing his grip from you and placing his visor upon your face one last time, before turning on his heels and heading for the door.

He unlocked it, but didn’t open it. You felt your pounding heartbeat as he cleared his throat.  

“It is,” He let out lowly. “Nice.”

The door swooped open and shut behind him gently before you could say anything in return.

He didn’t come back the next week. You wondered if you’d scared him off, if your tiny confession of enjoying his company was too much.

You thought back to the way he’d said the word— Nice— as if it wasn’t something that was often spoken in his vocabulary. For a man of little words, you were increasingly amazed at how he managed to convey things with his body alone, being weighed down and covered up by Beskar at all times.

The credits still weighed on you. You’d given them back to him, you’d made yourself clear, but then he’d given them back and left without a trace.

You prayed to some god out there that it wasn’t a Mandalorian way of saying goodbye. From what you knew of Mandalore, which was very little, you knew they weren’t the gift giving types, but it still made you think.

Yet all that he’d done, despite the deal, the trade of information and the abrupt middle of the night awakenings, those small attempts at light-hearted banter and void visits had given you just a shred of hope.

People on Nevarro were cut-throat, you knew that better than most after making your home there for so long. That’s why this shook you to your core, sparking this unlikely partnership with someone such as Mando.

Stars, you missed him. It sounded ridiculous when you said it in your head, but you did. Contact was little to none on this planet.

You didn’t speak more than a sentence to people needing repairs. You didn’t sit down and talk, and fuck, the loneliness was something you were used to— yet six months of regular meetings, even just to trade information, had offered you a warmth you hadn’t realised you’d missed—

Until he was gone.

It wasn’t until three weeks later that you ventured out of the shop, certain that you were going mad. You hardly frequented the bar at the entrance of the city, choosing to stay safe and locked away in your small isolation inside the shop, but the absence of people was sucking you dry.

You entered the bar, making sure not to seem out of place. It was still an odd feeling, seeing people sitting around and drinking. You knew a lot of the locals— returning customers for repairs, all of which were hunters.

Perhaps there was some unspoken understanding that you weren’t to be touched, as the small nods of hunters hit you when you accidentally met their eyes. It almost made you feel known, but at the same time you hadn’t felt much since that last conversation with the Beskar clad hunter.

You were heading towards the bar when a voice rang out behind you. “Miss!” You swivelled on your heels, hitting his eyes.

It was Greef Karga. You knew him, everyone on Nevarro did. He was the Guild contact here, the one that most hunters got their pucks from for the next job.

“Karga, hello,” You replied, not politely, but not harshly. Being polite got you nowhere on Nevarro, and you knew that despite his smiles and willingness to be friendly, Karga was a snake in the grass.

“Drink?” He questioned, and you found yourself accepting his offer. You made your way to his booth, slotting yourself in opposite him. He grabbed a bottle of blue liquor from the floor by his feet, clicking at the droid behind the bar for glasses. “What brings you here? You don’t usually venture from your establishment,”

You regarded him, all too aware of the blaster on your hip for safety.

“Slow few weeks. Fancied a change of scenery,” You replied bluntly.

“Ah yes, business is slower than usual currently,” He admitted. A droid placed two shot glasses on your table, scuttling back to the bar. Karga swiped them towards him, uncorking the bottle and filling up both glasses. “But your repairs are stellar, and I hear your custom blasters are best sellers,”

He dragged a glass towards you, which you took once he’d taken his hand away. You swilled the liquid around, trying not to look too despondent.

“Parts are sparse,” You admitted. “Fewer hunters need new gear. I’m starting to think there’s someone better than me on Nevarro,”

Karga let out a coarse laugh, which you first mistook for a chesty cough. His smile was indication enough, however, of the funniness he obviously though that required.

“No, my dear, there’s no one better,” He replied. You chose to ignore him calling you dear. Opposite you he raised his glass to the sky, prompting you to do the same. “To good business in future,”

You nodded at him in response, before downing the blue liquor in one gulp. It burned as it slinked down your throat, hitting your stomach and causing a warmth to spread through your gut. Nothing like the small conversations the Mandalorian gave you, but it made you feel something— and that was in short supply around here.

Karga sighed in refreshment after slamming his glass back on the table, but his gaze fixed on something behind you as you deposited your glass back down. “Ah, Mando!” He exclaimed.

Your heart stopped.

You stayed utterly frozen in place, feeling a mixture of anxiety and adrenaline surge through you.

“That was fast. I wasn’t expecting you back for another few days at least,” Karga continued.

You tried not to let the hurt surge through you. So, he had been back since your last meeting. He’d been back, and he hadn’t come to visit. You tried to rationalise your hurt— he held no obligation to stop by the shop, he held no responsibility, yet— you wished—

You wished he would have.

“I trust you know our resident weapons mechanic,” Karga continued, gesturing to you. You forced yourself to turn round and look at him— face to face. His helmet stared at you blankly in response, and you wondered what expression he held beneath.

Maybe it was annoyance, thinking he was finally rid of a nobody mechanic from the inner city.

Maybe it was surprise, or hurt, or pain. You knew that despite the immense effort you were putting in to keep your stare blunt, he’d see right through you.

“Yes,” Mando replied after what seemed like hours. You turned back to Karga, pushing your glass to the middle of the table in dismissal.

“Thanks for the drink. I’ll be going,” You got up swiftly, standing in front of Mando after leaving the booth. He looked down at you, chrome visor focusing on your eyeline. You found yourself flicking your eyes from the left and right, as if you could see the placement of his eyes beneath the helmet—

Then you looked away.

You sauntered out of the bar, ignoring exclaimed farewells from Karga as you booked it out of the bar, heading straight back to the shop. Your strides were fierce, your heart pounded painfully beneath your ribs and you couldn’t stop yourself from balling your fists.

You felt like screaming, but you kept your mouth shut and your jaw tense. You felt like punching, kicking, pounding something, but you didn’t, instead opting to breathe it out as you entered your shop and slammed the door shut behind you.

It’s fine. It’s fine.

You yelled at yourself to calm down, to accept that it was nothing. God forbid, you’d gotten worked up over the smallest indication of human interaction, from a man whose face you’d never fucking seen, no less.

It was stupid. You’d long grown out of enjoying fairy tales, and this wasn’t one. You were a grown woman, hyper-fixating over a six-month long dodgy deal with a bounty hunter that you didn’t fucking know— not really, anyway.

In a frenzy, you unsheathed your blaster, heading out to your courtyard. You fired at will, not stopping to aim your blaster or even try to hit the targets. When that got dull, you actually started to try—you positioned your feet parallel to your shoulders, straightening your spine and extending your neck—

You fired, hitting the targets dead centre every time, just like normal.

You fired until your trigger finger began to ache, until the incessant anger and hurt in your chest had dissipated to a low roar that you could manage in other ways—with the bottle of Coruscant whiskey that you only saved for special occasions; big deals, good months, and, evidently, to feel something other than red, hot and seething anger.

You went to sheath your blaster, when the hairs on the back of your neck pricked up—

You turned swiftly, raising your gun and keeping your eyes wide open. You faltered when you saw the familiar glint of moon rays on chrome. Mando stood in the courtyard doorway, just as he’d done the last time you’d seen him.

Your elbow buckled, dropping the blaster to your side as you kept yourself composed. You stared him down like you were unbothered to see him. You had a feeling he knew that wasn’t the case, though, and if he’d been there for a few minutes before then your incessant firing would have proven otherwise.

“Mando,” You spoke first, keeping your voice steady. “What information do you need this time?” You kept it professional, not wanting to think back about the way you’d been so blatantly vulnerable to him before. He probably thought you to be childish, over-emotional, idiotic.

You’d rather he thought you to be that, than weak.

“What were you doing with Karga?” He demanded it this time. His voice was low, lower than usual, despite the modulator. You sheathed your pistol, stepping towards him once. He didn’t move aside.

“Drinking,” You stated the obvious. You made a move to try and get past him, but a Beskar covered forearm leant up against the doorframe, stopping you even more so.

“He’s bad news,” He continued. You let out an annoyed scoff.

“I know who Karga is. Kriff—I live here,” You accidentally let your annoyance travel through your words, making it exceptionally clear that you were pissed, if it hadn’t been obvious before.

You grabbed his forearm, tugging it away from the doorframe and pushing your way inside. He let you pass eventually, watching as you grabbed a bottle of whiskey from beneath your work desk. You jumped up onto the desk, letting your legs droop over the side as you uncorked the bottle.

It was silent. You could tell he was trying to find something to say, to bring up the obvious tension, but you also got the sense that Mando didn’t often apologise.

Why should he? He didn’t promise to come back.

He hadn’t promised. You had no idea why you were so ticked off, yet there you were—seething, angry, hurt, perhaps on the brink of tears, but possibly relishing in the fact he’d come to the shop after your little encounter. You felt sick at your own feelings.

“Are you... mad at me?” He spoke finally. The breath caught in the back of your throat. His hesitation made it clear; he didn’t often delve into the workings of others. He was being kind by even asking you about this.

You felt like a dick. All of a sudden, you could see even more so that you were being incredibly irrational. Weeks of zero contact had turned you into a moron. A lonely, overthinking moron.

You glanced up at him, holding the whiskey between your thighs. You let out a sigh.

“No,” You let out. “I’m sorry. It’s been... a strange, few weeks,” You chuckled slightly after speaking, bringing the bottle to your lips and taking a small gulp. “Loneliness is a disease, Mandalorian,” You added, taking another sip and slotting the bottle back between your thighs.

Mando moved from the doorway, striding towards you slowly. You stayed in place, focusing on the warmth that the whiskey provided you with. You finally looked up when he stood before you, not close enough to slot between your hips, but close enough for your knees to graze against Beskar.

He reached out for the bottle, grabbing it from between your thighs and making his way around to the main shop. You went to turn, but the leather of his gloved hand slotted itself between your jaw and your neck, pushing your gaze to the back of the shop.

“Don’t look,” He told you, warningly.

You did as you were told, all the while counting your shallow breaths as they quietly shook from within your body. You heard the subtle glug of the bottle, the drip as the liquid sloshed around within the glass, and then the bottle was being slotted back between your thighs from behind.

Mando’s arm wrapped itself around you as he made sure it was back in place, his glove grazing over the top of your thigh and skimming your waist as he retracted his arm back. You’d be lying if you didn’t relish in those small touches.

They set your skin alight, despite there being no skin-to-skin contact involved. It was the closest he’d ever come to you, allowing the gentler side of himself to appear. You’d never see him this way; guard down, a softness to his voice and his unknowing gaze.

You knew that he’d just raised his helmet to take a sip of whiskey—that was enough to make you gulp back the desires within your gut. You couldn’t believe he’d felt comfortable enough to do that around you. You hesitantly turned, waiting to see if it was allowed, but fully turned to him when he didn’t push your gaze away like before.

You swivelled on the top of the desk, bringing your legs round to droop over the other side, while Mando grabbed his usual stool and dragged it closer to you.

He sat, sighing slightly as he did so, before looking up at you sat before him.

“Solitude,” He spoke. “I prefer that word,” His voice was soft. You knew he was tired just from the way he spoke; he was exhausted.

“Solitude implies a sense of peace,” You replied, stepping carefully over your words. “Do you feel peace in your ship, all alone?”

“Do you feel peace in this shop?” He hit back with, avoiding your question completely. You were about to say no, but you stopped yourself. This shop was all you had, all you knew. Your choice of loneliness, over solitude, was an obvious indication of the way it made you feel, and you wanted to bet that Mando knew that, but—

Without this life, you didn’t know where you’d be.

“It’s all I have,” You admitted, finally. He nodded subtly, not moving his visor from your face.

“And this,” He said, gesturing to the Beskar he donned. “Is all I know. This is the Way,”

You looked down, swinging your legs back and forth for lack of what to do. You wanted to know more—you always wanted to know more about Mando, that was a given. But right now, you wanted to ask him everything.

“Is that why you stopped coming here?” The words trickled from your lips pitifully, but you had no choice but to accept that you’d spoken them.

Mando was silent for a few moments, but he made no indication of looking away from you. You wondered if, beneath the helmet, he was actually looking at you. Maybe he was zoning out, or was focused on the wall behind your head instead.

“I feared continuing to visit you would become a habit I could no longer break,”

There it was—that warmth. It erupted within your gut, winding its way up your spine and neck, circling down your limbs and to the spot between your legs that you always chose to ignore. You tensed up immediately, forgetting about the whiskey bottle between your thighs as the sensation only increased the wobble of your upper thighs.

“Like you said,” Mando continued, and you could have sworn that his voice sounded strained. Like he was holding back, like his body was almost forcing him to stay quiet. He stood suddenly, causing a small gasp to leave your lips involuntarily, as he strode forward to slot himself partially between your legs. “Loneliness is a disease,”

You went jelloid when a hesitant hand was placed on your thigh—

Stars, it’s been a while.

You were slowly beginning to unwind, as Mando placed his other hand on the opposing thigh, slotting himself further between your legs. As much as you wanted to speed this up, to feel skin touch skin, you didn’t know if that was actually possible for the Mandalorian.

“M-Mando,” You stuttered out, but it only made his grip tighten around your plump skin. You instinctively raised your hands to his chest, feeling the smoothness of his Beskar. “Just— wait,” You managed out, despite all of your senses not wanting him to stop what he was doing. His visor shot to your face quickly and his hands fluttered away from your thighs.

You wanted to cry— that’s not what you’d meant—

You swiped your hands across his Beskar chest plate, reaching down for his large forearms. You heard the breath hitch in the back of his throat, as a small moan escaped his modulator.

You placed his arms back on your legs slowly, but he still looked on his guard, wondering what you had to say.

“Loneliness is a disease,” You spluttered out. Your cheeks were flushed a neon red, and you could feel the rapid heartbeat erupting from beneath your ribs. “It’s— overwhelming,”

When he didn’t move or speak, you wanted to kick yourself. Had you done it again? Revealed something that was too much and reduced yourself to a vulnerable mess? For a moment, you thought Mando could smell the weakness within you, but even you didn’t realise you’d unwind this fast at the most subtle of touches from the Mandalorian.

You froze when he raised a gloved hand to pinch your chin. His thumb was firm but gentle, his other fingers curled just beneath your jaw, and his stare was unwavering.

Stars, your whole body throbbed at his touch. You wanted more, but you also didn’t want it to end as quickly as it had started, and you’d meant what you’d said— overwhelming. It was a red, hot heat that you hadn’t felt in years, it was something that you’d have to get used to again, and from the fumbling touches that Mando gave you, you felt he might be in the same boat.

His thumb slowly made its way to your mouth, gliding back and forth over your bottom lip. You were positively glowing, feeling the intimate touch of the hunter for the first time after what seemed like months of fantasy—

You’d had dreams of him, falling asleep to the image of his helmet or the way he slumped on your stool every so often, so desperate to see what lay beneath his armour.

“You’re overwhelmed?” He needlessly questioned. The way his voice trickled all over you was enough to make your body surge towards his once more. You had to stop yourself from reaching for his waistband, overcome with a hunger that you hadn’t been expecting. “It’s okay. We have time,”

With five simple words you could have collapsed to the floor right there. All too soon, his touch vanished from your skin. You leant forward has he removed himself from you, stepping back while you tried desperately to get his touch back.

The whiskey bottle between your legs slipped suddenly, toppling from its place between your thighs as you realised you’d started to open your legs wider where he’d stood between your hips. You grappled at air to try and stop it falling, but it fell from the desk—

Right into a skilful gloved hand. Mando gripped the bottle with a ferocity that you knew he’d wanted to grip you with, before stepping forward once more. He slotted the bottle between your thighs once more, but right in the nook of your upper thighs—

You shivered uncontrollably as both hands came to cradle your thighs, pushing them together to keep the bottle in place.

You watched, defeated, as he picked up his satchel from the floor and slung it over his shoulder, staring at you atop the desk when he was ready to leave.

“If I see you drinking with Karga again, I won’t be as gentle,” Despite his efforts to keep his voice strong, you heard the breathy way he spoke.

It filled you with a confidence that had disappeared as soon as he’d first placed the bottle back between your legs.

“You’ll have to catch me first,” You challenged. You couldn’t stop yourself from sending a smirk his way, and it had the desired effect—

Mando dropped his helmet to the floor as the most subtle of groans escaped his lips. He swivelled and turned, heading for the door immediately afterwards.

He opened it, letting in the cold Nevarro air. You watched as he slinked out of the door, pulling it shut from the outside—

And then there was silence. You breathed out a shaky breath that you didn’t realise you’d been holding, grabbing the whiskey and taking a large gulp as you tried to regain your composure fully.

You went to bed that night utterly elated, his chrome visor appearing behind your eyes all the same.

Feel free to send things to my ask box or message me!

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Love on the Line - Part 6

A/N: It’s finally here!!!

MASTERLIST      P1         P2           P3          P4          P5

Henry Cavill x Reader

If I keep tagging you and you’re not interested or want to be tagged; please let know!

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: heartache, language, angst, a pinch of lovey dovey fluff, cliffhanger 

*****************************

“Ohhh myy god…it’s official. This is the best burger of my life, hands down.”

What could easily be perceived as orgasmic music delightfully made its way to his ears. Seb chuckled studying the beautiful girl across from him admiring her combination of burger grease, ketchup, and mustard staining her chin. Y/N was too lost in the delicious meal to notice Seb gleefully watching her. In an instant his hand wiped away the condiment catching Y/N by surprise. She smiled bashfully blushing.

“Told you I knew a place.”

She sighed genuinely happy in them moment; “I could die a happy girl tomorrow because of this sweet, juicy perfection of a burger. All thanks to you.”

“What can I say? I have good taste.”

“And how did you run across this wonderous joint? Kinda feels off the beaten path.”

“Well, when you fly as much as me you learn to ask around. I never trust the internet when it comes to what I put in my body. I like to know what and where the locals scavenge for a tasty meal.”

“You continue to surprise me …I admire your style, Seb. Original, classy, and you no doubt just about charm the pants off any person who walks your way.”

“Is it working now?” He flashed his most flirtatious smile devouring another sweet potato fry.

Quick on her feet, she shot back with wit and attitude; “Should it be?”

“I gotta say Y/N, I’ve never been happier to wake someone up on a plane until I met you.”

“Damn, you’re suave, Seb. Fucking suave.”

Her eyes bulged from their sockets at her crude choice of words; “Shit, I’m sorry. Ah, fuck.”

His laugh flew through the air like wind on a crisp fall evening; her cheeks flushed.

“I’m not usually such a sailor. Guess you bring out the best in me.”

“I don’t mind a bit. In fact, I kinda like that I fluster you if I’m being honest.”

“So smooth. Are you sure you’re not from LA?  I get the sense that’s a requirement in these parts?”

He shook his head in stark disagreement; “Nope, sorry to disappoint you. Just a common foreigner.”

“And a handsome one at that.”

Shocked at her boldness, Y/N stared down at the remnants of food moving her fries as a distraction from his adorable gaze.

“I haven’t felt this at ease in …well I can’t remember. It’s nice.”

“Couldn’t agree more. I never actually asked what brings you here?”

Seb nervously scratched the back of his head; “Uh, work. Like I said, I travel pretty frequently. Hollywood is a hub of sorts for me. What brings you here?”

“Okay, okay, I’ll take the hint and pry later. Well, I’m a writer and some big exec wants to discuss the rights to my book series. So, yeah.”

“Y/N, that’s amazing! Are you secretly a super hero, part of the Avengers maybe?”

“Hahah, flattery will certainly get you far. No doubts there.”

“You’re too kind, Y/N. I’m definitely far from perfect.”

“Good. Perfection is overrated. Flaws are attractively imperfect. I mean at the end of the day we’re only human.”

“Consider me intrigued. I’ve gotta stop by a bookstore and check you out now!”

“Oh, hush! If you must know, I try to keep a low profile. So, uh, how long are you here for?”

“A couple days. I’ve got a bit of free time after my meeting tomorrow and thinking of hitting some trails while I’m here. Don’t get me wrong, LA is cool and all, but kinda suffocating. I try and maintain my distance if possible.”

“Oh, you’re preaching to the choir. The hustle and bustle of London is the literal definition of overwhelming. Countryside getaways were my one true savior. Sometimes London feels like an overpacked sardine can just waiting to explode.”

“So why did you stay?”

Y/N bit her lip trying to keep quiet. She hadn’t once though of Henry since meeting Seb. The lump in her throat appeared by just the mere mention of her subconscious. A part of her wasn’t ready to reveal the ache left beneath her exterior.

“Friends and family. What else ties a person to one place?”

“Love? A relationship?”

His coyness was flattering. She gave into his curiosity.  

“Are you asking if I’m single?” Her feigned expression was enough to send him into a fit of harmonious laughter.

“Maybe, maybe not. Depends on your answer, I guess. Part of me believes you’re too good to be true which usually means taken.”

“HA, no. Relationships and I are not on speaking terms at the moment.”

“Ah, sounds like heartbreak hotel is just around the corner….”

“I recently got out of a long-term relationship. So, to answer your question; Yes, I’m single and so not ready to mingle.”

“Are you assuming I’m hitting on you?” His shocked appearance made her question their entire encounter and if she’d been reading the signs wrong all along.

“Well, good thing I’m only here for the coffee and platonic company, hm?”

Seb raised his mug in salute as her stress magically melted away; “Break-ups suck. But allow for a real opportunity to see who you really are. Pain can be a bitter reminder of sadness and strength.”

“Wow, philosophizing so soon into our newly found friendship? A man after my own heart!”

Y/N playfully placed her hand over her heart, smiling for particular reason.

“How about if you’re interested and only 100% positive you aren’t sick of my company; we do dinner or even drinks? Whichever the lady chooses.”

Seb motioned in jest. Y/N tried to remember the last time she’d felt so carefree unable to pin down an exact memory. For far to long Y/N trapped herself in a fog allowing Henry to rule over her even when he wasn’t physically there. It had to stop, she had to quit placing him on a pedestal if she had any luck of moving on from their failed love affair. One torturous long minute passed as Seb’s nerved ramped up.

“Shit, I’m that weird dude, now. Forget I asked and let’s chalk it up to an amazing afternoon as strangers who leave this diner and head back to our own separate lives without consequence?”

Again, Y/N was speechless contemplating what she truly wanted to do next.

“First things first, stop blubbering, you seriously are ungodly handsome. And on second note, our chance meeting was unexpected but kinda sorta awesome. I’d love to see you again. I can’t recall the last time I’ve felt so free…and don’t even get me started on the belly aches due to your comedic skills.”

“Damn, a woman that speaks her mind. Are you sure you’re not in politics?”

“Nope, never, no thank you. Sooo, it’s a date?”

Seb furrowed his eyebrow in pleasant surprise; “You said it, not me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes; “Yeah, yeah. What do the kids say nowadays…. YOLO?”

“Yes, and please never say that again.”

A napkin holder was placed strategically resting against the window sill. Seb signaled to their middle-aged waitress; “Pardon me, do you have a pen handy?”

“Course, darling. Anything for ya.” She winked dropping the pen on the edge of the checkered table leaving them to privacy. He scribbled his number on the grainy piece of paper and slid it her way.

“I’ll leave the ball in your court and pass the privilege of reaching out to confirm details.”

“Wow, and they say chivalry is dead? Obviously not in Romania.”

“What fine establishment do they have you shacking up in?”

“Chateau Marmont. Long story short, my publisher fully embraces and understands my introverted nature and love of historical hotels. Call me an oddball.”

“Oddball.”

They snickered like school children slowly understanding their time was coming to a close. A power, a force of sorts gravitated Y/N towards him. He felt the same way.

“I happen to think women who especially history buffs are so incredibly magnificent. I haven’t met many as beautiful as you.

Their flirtation skyrocketed like flicks of fire firing between them.

“Knowledge is like your super power…. also, intelligent women are a complete turn on.”

She swatted his arm smiling like a kid in a candy shop.

“Come on, let’s get outta here. I’ll drop you off.”

He offered his hand helping Y/N to her feet. She lingered a second too long. With Seb a couple steps behind her, she missed the clinch of his fists and Seb’s reddened cheeks.

---The Next Day---

No luxury was forgotten as Y/N observed her decadent hotel room, but no matter how comfortable the memory foam or high thread count sheets, Y/N tossed restlessly the whole night. Her anxieties attacking her mind at every possible angle. Worry engulfed her clutching on her own insecurities. Her fear? 

That she’d walk into David Fincher’s office and leave very humiliated and very far from home. Henry’s ghost loitered just out of reach. A ghost can be many a thing; a memory, a daydream, a secret, but most times, a wish. Old or new. But that was the past, memories she must let go of.

Y/N stared at the ceiling wishing her bed to open up and swallow her whole finally dozing off to her temporary dreamland. But sunlight painted the walls like a colorful painting. She stretched and moaned at the sensations of her waking bones.

Making her way to the bathroom, Y/N’s phone chimed forcing her to circle back towards the obnoxious device.

Seb: Buna dimineata prietene! (Good Morning, friend)

Y/N: Romanian? So early in the morning. How dare you sir?

Blinking dots ran across the screen as Y/N waited impatiently for his witty response.

Seb: Never too early for greatness. As they say in the theater, break a leg! But not an actual leg because I might be looking forward to our date. Okay, good luck with the meeting!

Y/N: Thanks for the good juju. Same to you! Call you later.

She unconsciously rubbed at the tender swell in her chest, the fluttering in her belly kicking wildly. Butterflies. It’d been ages since she’d been this excited and it surprised Y/N. Maybe she was ready for something more…Y/N shook her head ridding herself of such silly thoughts. She knew better than to rush full steam ahead.

    ---Later that day---

The fourteenth floor was decorated to architectural perfection. Every space had its purpose and the décor elegantly stylish.  There she stood in the presence of cinematic greatness! As Y/N was about to pinch herself, she heard an echo of a name. Looking up, she searched for the unknown voice before landing on an enthusiastic figure waving her direction.

“Y/N! So nice to finally see you in person. I’m Meg.”

“Meg, so glad to put a face to a name. Thank you for having me.”

Both women walked down a hallway lined of glass walls smiling at those who looked up.

“David has talked nonstop about your series. So much so that I ended up devouring your books in three days. You’re freaking brilliant!”

“You really think so? I worked my ass off to get it through any publishing house. I was on the verge of chucking my ideas in the trash and getting an actual job that paid real money if it wasn’t for a last-ditch effort.”

“I’ve blocked off a thirty-minute window before his next meeting begins. He’s booked back-to-back today but by no means feel rushed. He hates when I push him. Don’t tell him I said that.”

Her head bobbed nonchalantly taking notice of the stunning scenery from the 17th level.

“Alright, here goes nothing.”

“Best of luck, Y/N.”

Meg knocked; “Come in!”

“David, this is Y/N.”

“Thanks, Meg. Close the door behind ya, we’ve got loads to discuss.”

David extended his hand towards Y/N’s shaking firmly. Y/N reminded herself to breath and to quickly find her manners.

She stuttered trying to remember common speech causing David to laugh aloud.

“Ms. Y/N, you okay?”

“Yyess—just a tad shell shocked. I mean, I can’t believe I’m standing in a room with the David Fincher. Unbelievable, really. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me.”

“I should be the one thanking you. You wrote one hell of a series that I trust can be transferred stunningly over to the silver screen where it can be fully appreciated. I’ve never seen someone mold together so many genres with such ease yet adding a layer of complexity. You, young lady, kept me guessing every twist and turn. That doesn’t happen too often if you catch my drift.”

“I-I, it’s just nice all those late-night writing sessions and waiting tables paid off. I’ll have you know I was on the verge of giving it all up and going back to school.”

“So, let’s get down to details. My team and I have come up with an offer that is totally open for negotiations.”

David slid a piece of paper into view. Y/N stared at the parchment gob smacked. Her jaw fell open at the written proposal.

“Holy shit.” Her eyes snapped up at her vulgar language; “Shit! I don’t mean to be impolite.”

“Ha, it’s a bit flabbergasting upon first glance but I promise you I want to do everything in my power to make this work for both parties.”

“Am I…am I reading this correctly?”

“Indeed, $10 million for the first two films, advancing to an additional $13, $15, $17 million for the last three. Of course, aiding us in the writer’s room to make sure we bring your story to live through your eyes. This will undoubtfully increase book sales across the board, I’d say upwards of $60 million if all goes accordingly. Also, I didn’t forget about making you an executive producer.”

“You’re kidding me, riight? Am I dreaming?”

“You’re gonna be a big deal once the tabloids get their sticky fingers on this. I mean this is going to skyrocket you to the likes of Stephenie Meyer and Suzanne Collins status. I mean, I had to outbid Peter Jackson just for a chance at directing this masterpiece. Darling, you’re all Hollywood can talk about right now.”

“Wow, I’m, uh, seriously grateful. I guess I’ve been shacking up in London far too long. I don’t really read celeb gossip so needless to say I’ve been in my own bubble.”

“A huge thank you goes out to Henry Cavill for pitching the initial idea. He helped get the recognition you deserve. Nice fellow, that one.”

Momentary shock came over her face, mouth still agape; “He—Henry had a hand in this?”

“Most certainly. He was the one who brought it to my attention. Of course, he mentioned the desire to work with me was motivation enough, but genuinely, he seemed passionate about the project.”

“I-I had no idea.” Switching gears as fast as possible Y/N trotted forth; “So realistically, when can we get the ball rolling?”

“Once the proper documents are signed and stamped, we’re good to go. If negotiations aren’t necessary, I’d say within the next month or so we can start casting calls, booking air fare, figuring out destination shoots, getting a manuscript going. It comes together faster than people think. How about this; you mull it over, call whoever you need, and get back at me in the next couple of days. Sound good?”

“Sounds more than good! I think I’ll be forever be in your debt, Mr. Fincher.”

“Please, call me David. We have a long road ahead of us that has truly stoked a fire in me, all thanks to you.”

Her nerves triumphed pushing Henry to the back of her mind. Y/N had bigger fish to fry.

“May I be frank with you, David?”

“By all means.”

“As you probably know Henry’s my ex-fiancée. Is it true you’re possibly considering him for the lead role?”

David looked around quizzically composing himself.

“I figured we’d have to address the elephant in the office. Yes, I was aware and I didn’t consider him to be malicious. He’s a genius actor and I figured it was worth a chat. But if you’re worried about anything, just say the word.”

“No, no. I wouldn’t want to jeopardize his successes. I agree, he’s an untapped actor full of surprising talent. I’ll be okay.”

“You promise?”

“Yep.”

“Great! Rest assured he isn’t even in the country. Believe he’s still galivanting about London.”

Silently pleading to change the subject, Y/N snapped out of it as quickly as she flew in to.

“This is a dream come true. I’m really looking forward to working with you and bringing my story to life.”

The squeaky hinge of the door alerted her to Meg’s foreboding presence. Taking a cue, Y/N stood up shaking David’s hand beaming like a child on Christmas Eve.

“I’ll be in touch, Y/N. Until then, enjoy your stay. Venture out. You’ll find LA isn’t all plastic and bullshit.”

“Oh, thank god. For a second I was getting nervous.”

“Haha! Meg, next appointment here?”

“Yes, he’s right around the cor--.”

“Y/N?”

She searched for the familiar voice unable to pin it down.

“Seb!? Wha...what are you doing here? I thought you had that big meeting today?”

“Uh, I do. That’s why I’m here.”

Sebastian nervously scratched his neck. Bewildered and thoroughly confused Y/N pushed on; “Wait a minute…. Are you an ...?”

“Actor, yes.”

“Whoa, whoa whoa. Wait.”

“Holy shit. You’re Shirley Lovecraft. Catchy pseudo name. So, you’re the brains behind this witty madness. What an interesting turn of events if I do say so myself, a happy one.”

“Agreed. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you. Kinda embarrassing.”

“Don’t. A perfect afternoon with someone who wasn’t using me for fame or money? Did I mention you look breathtaking today?”

Her cheeks fumed with heat stirring her butterflies back to life. Seb’s hand stilled on her waist unwilling to let go as they continued gazing at the other.

“Earth to Seb?

Seb broke eye contact first glancing over at David. Y/N was too busy memorizing the glimmer of his cobalt blue eyes.

“Yes, ah! So rude of me. Hello there, so great of you to squeeze me in. I appreciate it.”

He directed his attention towards Y/N once more leaning close to the shell of her ear; “Still on for drinks later?”

“Definitely.”

His wink sparked a jolt to her core leaving her weak in the knees. Somehow, some way, Y/N mustered enough confidence to walk without tripping. She glowed the whole walk to the elevator. Y/N pressed the button too lost in thought to hear the quiet ding of arrival strolling straight into a hard chest. Enormous hands grasped her shoulders; “Oh! Apologies Ms.”

“No, it’s my fault. I wasn’t paying atten—oh shit.”

Only one particularly charming British accent that could send a chill down her spine, one very distinguishable voice indeed. 

“Y/N?”

Time froze icily still.

“What the fuck? Henry??”

~~~~~~~~~~

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[stopeatingwhales]

about a girl (pt.2) x kurt cobain

hi guys :) so sorry for my inactivity, but i’m here finally lmaoo, this is a part two to my kurt fic that i wrote about a month ago, due to school its been much harder for me to keep up writing as usual, but i will absolutely try my best to finish your guys’ requests soon! anyways, hope you enjoy this <3 Pairing: pre-bleach era kurt x reader

Warnings: nothing :)

Word count: 2.167

Requested by anon (the second part was my idea, but i felt like i should still credit the anon for giving me the idea for this x) 

༉‧₊˚✧

The wind exhales short, breezy waves as you lay there, engulfed in your dreams. From the night succeeding to your outstanding performance, you were requited to a favourable hibernation which by admiring you, was needed for not only the sum of a few hours. Your solemn features are painted still, the only movement stimulating from your body is heavy breaths accompanied by a light snore from time to time. I question whether it's righteous of me to allow my eyes to adorn themselves in your serene features, yet I simply cannot stop myself. I find it surreal to witness you in such fragility; for all the pain and sorrow you’ve had to experience in your life, it’s almost like you shouldn’t be sleeping in such a tranquillic state. I wonder if you prefer sleeping than being awake, I wonder if you think it’s a chore to get out of bed. Does the world haunt you? Every click, flash, snap of a camera, does it devastate you? The image you portray to the world is magnificent, yet flawed. It’s almost as if you’re hiding something, yet you don’t care what others think of you, so you do whatever you please. My heart skips a beat every time you shift slightly, cradling your body in the duvet. I advert my stare to your arms, sculpted perfectly in God’s chamber, the lankiness of your bones withering an appearance of discrepancy. You’re not like the rest of them. Your steady breaths softly ease in and out of your flawless torso, your hair so impeccable it looks untouched even when you’re shifting around in your slumber - the hair you willingly dyed and strained with a flavoured drink mix. As I admire you, sleeping beauty, it reminds me of how lucky I am to have you in my life - regardless of where we stand. When you’re awake, you’re the only thing keeping me sane during the day; spending even just a day without you would feel as if I had lost my legs, lost what’s kept me steady for all these draining years. In all my time of knowing and understanding you, have you never not known what to say, for you have such a way with words, it's unfathomable. You carry a sort of intelligence that no one can seem to obtain; you speak words out of a bible and it’s ironic I say that, Mr ‘God is gay’, but it’s true. You’re the reason I wake up in the morning. You’re like a hard candy, sweet and delicate, although the texture is very hard making it a burden to get through to you. I want to taste you on my tongue every morning, if you would like me to be honest. I crave for things as little as your scent even before I’ve risen from the cushion. Your grace must be envied by the heavens; there is and will never be anyone as alluring as you, not that I’m surprised. 

As my eyes continue to wander on him, a sudden stretch of his arms and a small groan echoing out of his vocal chords results in my body almost instantaneously sitting up. I watch him as he blinks his eyes a few times, his vision still not clear enough. “Good morning,” he whispers, his arms thrown to the skies; he’s like a baby, reaching out for their mother in the early hours of daylight, moaning and whining for affection, warming my heart with soreful ease. Quickly taking note of the small clock situated beside him that I was aware of for the many hours I had been trapped in thought, it read a bright and early 11am. My stare continues to linger onto him as I watch him shifting around, the heart situated in my upper chest now beating as fast as drum solos in heavy metal songs. A short silence stood in between both presences; I assume that he hadn’t taken note of my pondering state adjacent to him, though was that idea contradicted by his light greeting. “Did you sleep well?” he chirps, now using both palms to rub his what-seemed-like itchy eyes.

Now what is humorous from this scenario is that he asks this as if it means nothing; a simple conversation starter it may be, though, to me it means so much more hearing those light words roll off his tongue, compared to if someone else had said it, even if it was in the exact same moment living right now. A whiff of bad breath hits my face as I laugh lightly, shaking my head in a sort of admiration towards the man lying down ahead of me. He again blinks a few times, now in attempt to adjust the bright scenery to his view. For a couple seconds the room is frozen, Kurt’s alteration in position to sitting up becoming the only sound ringing through both our ears. As I find my gaze glued onto him once again, I subconsciously repeat the question he asked me, this time directed for him. However, from what I’ve seen, I’m certain he slept wonderfully.

A tired chuckle escaped his mouth. “I asked you first,” he mutters, the morning rasp still prominent in his vocal chords. This makes me smile. The raw, genuinity forwards the idea of realism that this moment was actually happening, coming like a pinch snapping someone out of their daydream, though my thoughts will never be known to understand how I was able to spend time with such a man. “I slept well, though.” he adds, a warm smile playing on his lips. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” I answered, my face now being cradled by my palms. 

I now feel the stare of Kurt burn onto my face. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” he asks, a hint of annoyance laced in his words. “We could’ve stayed up together,” 

A small chuckle breezes out of my nose. How considerate, how caring must you be to, even when you have performed such an exasperating gig, stay awake with me because of one night of my mind’s continuous ambles? For all I know, Kurt wouldn’t sleep for days if it meant I would be in absolute glee. It’s those sorts of traits in those who are lost which draw you towards them becoming the significant other to stay with for life. It’s that sense of attachment, connection you hold with someone, so strong that you would give up the roof over your head if it meant a smile to be drawn on their face. ”You looked so peaceful in your sleep,” I replied, staring directly into his loveable eyes, the shade of blue brightening as the sunlight melted onto his face. His hair was now a little more messier compared to how it was less than ten minutes ago, and the urge of me running my fingers through his golden locks only seemed to grow even more as time passed on. For a moment I decided to hold back my words, inhaling sharply to gain composure to my fatigued state. “I didn’t want to disturb you,” 

Kurt sighed - knowing that he needed sleep more than anything, though a hint of sadness dwindled in his stomach, his mind conflicted from the idea of me drowning in worry as I tended to do when I couldn’t sleep. Reaching his arm towards the table sat beside him, his fingers got lost in between the opened packet of cigarettes that slept reverently on the white wood, grabbing a random one at choice before placing it in a loose grip between his lips. With the known information that you need a torch to light a cigarette, I threw the one I had on his lap, a small laugh escaping my lips for no apparent reason. Actually no, there was a reason. “Who the fuck smokes first thing in the morning?”

Before he torched the lighter, he stopped, his piercing blue eyes locking in contact with mine. “Me, I do,” 

Another laugh tempted to flee itself from my throat, yet I held it back. If you would’ve said that to me the first night I met you, in that small, cramped room, littered with amps that Krist had dragged me into going in to listen to your material, I would’ve scoffed at your blown attitude towards such a random question. Watching you now as you’re admiring the cancer stick with pure attachment, my mind begins to wander over such a topic. I look at you and see a troubled, young kid who just wants love and affection because he seemingly never got enough from the people who designed his childhood; for you haven’t grown up since then. Perhaps in size and features, yes (and definitely the fact that children do not smoke), but hidden inside you is the same boy that was hidden away all those years ago - following onto your parents’ divorce. You say you’ve never been happy since then, you’ve never been able to think optimistically, and maybe you haven’t. Maybe the smile you give to me isn’t genuine; with continuous assurance I’ll consider it to be. Maybe I’ll never heal those bruises that were once your only source of living, and that’s okay, if you’re able to cope with the imprints. If you’re the Kurt Cobain that prefers smoking than having a normal breakfast, so be it; I’d give up my heart for you, and if anything, you’ve already stolen it. Words merely brush the surface of my adoration for you, and sometimes I believe that I’m just lying to myself, that nothing I’m saying in my head is true. Yet, as every minute, every second passes throughout the day, even in silent, contented situations with ceilings bright as yellow from the smoke like these, everything I say to myself simply strengthens in morality. My sweet, you deserve more than one could wish for. You deserve things that this world cannot give you, yet all you believe is that you are worthless. If only you saw yourself in my eyes, maybe then you’d realise, realise the impact you’ve sincerely doused onto me and my mind, you’ve got the moves to empower a generation and perhaps hundreds more - even if you don’t see that yet. 

“Give me one,” He hands me one, the strong gusts of cloud escaping his mouth creating a want for the rough substance to coat my throat in brutal ways; even if it’s slowly murdering me. It was a murderous addiction, nicotine, yet it kills us all, our addictions; and we are too blinded by the goodness it seemingly overshadows what we force to neglect in our minds - the bad in it all. We become so unbelievably enthralled by the pain we choose to accept it; we believe it is favourable, not disastrous and catastrophic. Drugs are frowned upon dearly, as they should be, but once you’re stuck, it takes more than simple courage to escape out of the deadly grip it chokes you in. Placing the cigarette in between my lips, identical to how he had just done, I reached my arm out to obtain the lighter that was in my clutch merely seconds ago, swiftly lighting it with one hand. As I breathed out the first tar-filled cloud from my cigar, I fixed my gaze onto him once again, sucking in my top lip as I allowed the droplets of ash fall onto my shirt. “I know I always say this,” I began as I studied his features, trying to identify any solemn, unpleasant emotions, noticing that there was none at all for the time being. “You’re going to make it big one day, I’m now for certain you’re going to take over the world,”

His eyes now locked into mine, a short chuckle leaving his throat as he blew out an even bigger gust of smoke. “I don’t want that,” 

Smiling, I took hold of my cigarette and inhaled deeply, holding it in my mouth until my body was unable to carry on without oxygen for longer - not that the air in the room was even oxygen; it was more corrosive chemicals than anything else, yet we’ve become so dependant on a small roll of tobacco to guide us to a path of slow death, its unnoticable. I watched as Kurt’s eyes drifted on to admire the elusive sunlight gleaming through the window, the whiffs of grey contrasting the happiness that was attempting to journey itself into the silent room. No matter how many times I may tell, his belief that he will never be as big as acts like the Sex Pistols will empower over anything I endevour on to phrase. It was inevitable though, whether he dreamt of it or not, that they will be big, bigger than anything they’ve ever seen. The path bridging onto it may cause destruction, heartbreak, and even more addiction, but the future is never in our hands - only until it is close enough for the present to capture it. Time is simply a mantelpiece, the light eventually burns out when there’s not enough coal to keep it going. You continue to refill it as the days go by until you simply cannot any longer, which is what all youths fear and avoid. Surprisingly enough, Kurt wasn’t one of the many crowds in devastating apprehension; he wanted to burn out more than anything else, for there were only small things keeping him going, or perhaps he was waiting for a longer, more agonizing death, hence the many packets of cigarettes vanished in a day.

There was nothing left to say in the room; there was no need for a response - it was only going to result in the same bicker as it resulted in many a time. The room, now physically undergoing a change in colour from the smoke, held a significant ambience, one so serene it left you more relaxed than the aftermath of a crazy high in drug use, though sometimes the relaxation is more pain than anything else. Even when my mind was so consumed in ideation earlier in the morning, my thoughts were louder than ever in this given moment. My mind was mulled over the concept of Kurt and stardom. He would never like it, nor does he even want it. It’s humorous to an extent; how much authenticity can one acclaim, to not even look up to the sugar-coated concept called ‘fame’? You’re not like the others. You don’t want fame, you want to create music. And in all honesty, I wish I lie through my teeth whenever I mumble those encouraging words of how you’re going to make it big; I can’t stand the idea of losing you, but like I said, it's inevitable, one day simple moments like these will just be memories to look back on when you’re old and laughing about your previous attachment to drugs. Maybe you won’t look back on times like these however, maybe you’ll remember the more vivid, buzzing moments like your first gig as Nirvana, and maybe I won’t remember this either, maybe these moments aren’t to be remembered, to be lived in instead. If only you knew how much I loved you, would you be surprised that I haven’t ruined my life because of it. You mean more to me than the stars mean to the night sky, more than a memory means to a person’s mind. It hurts my heart knowing I can’t heal you, though I dream that one day, you’ll wake up, just like you did today, turn to me and say, ‘I’m happy,’ because that’s all I ever dream of you to be.

[sophsicle]

Chapter 26

The friendship of Lily Evans and Mary Macdonald began under a bed. Lily’s bed, to be exact. See, she’d been having a bad day. It was first year and everything was just…a little…much. She missed her mum and dad, back then she even missed Petunia, and Severus was there but he wasn’t there-there. He was in Slytherin. After the sorting Lily had briefly considered begging the hat to put her in Slytherin too. Especially after being placed in the same house as Black and Potter. There hadn’t been any posh kids at her old school but they were about as obnoxious and self-obsessed as she had expected. And Potter was so gaga for Gryffindor that she was certain it would be filled with people just like him.

In the end, however, Lily had not had the guts to ask anything of the sorting hat, so she had remained in Gryffindor. And mostly that had been okay—posh bespectacled prats aside. Her roommates were nice, her classes were fun, and she did rather like not living in a dungeon. But she was also…lonely. And out of place. And uncomfortable. There were so many things that the kids around her—even if they weren’t Purebloods—seemed to know, and it felt impossible trying to keep up with it all. Severus did his best to help her along but she could tell that he was sometimes a little bit embarrassed by her. That was the worst feeling honestly.

One afternoon, at the end of September, for no reason in particular, it had all just felt too much. So she’d crawled under her bed, trying to make the world smaller. Easier to manage. About fifteen minutes into her pity party Mary had walked in. Lily watched her feet, listened to the David Bowie song she hummed under her breath. Her and Mary had barely exchanged more than a few sentences but she was secretly Lily’s favourite roommate, if only because she was the one who reminded Lily the most of home. The posters she hung on the walls were all of people Lily recognized and they didn’t move or talk, plus, sometimes she would complain about things that Lily could relate to—like missing ballpoint pens and three-ringed binders.

She’s not sure, to this day, what compelled her to speak then. Surely the smart thing to do would have been to remain silent and hope that her new roommate wouldn’t notice her having a complete and utter mental breakdown. But being quiet had never been Lily’s strong suit.

“Do you have records?” she wondered out loud.

“Ah!” Mary shouted, her feet stumbling back into her bed. “Jesus Christ, Lily? Is that you?”

“It’s just that I’ve never seen you play any but you hum them all the time,” she said in lieu of an answer.

“Where the hell are you?” Mary demanded.

“At home I have a bunch of records but my mum wouldn’t let me bring them, she didn’t know how safe it would be here and she was worried they’d get stolen, not that Wizards are dying for Muggle music but, of course, she didn’t know that. Still doesn’t know, I suppose—“

“Lily,” Mary said harshly. “Did you get turned invisible or something?”

“What? Oh,” Lily blinked. “No, I’m not invisible.”

“Then why the hell can I hear you prattling on but there’s not a single freckle in my line of vision?”

Lily scowled up at the bottom of her bed. “I don’t have that many freckles.”

“Uh-huh and the Giant Squid doesn’t have that many legs.”

“Did you just—“

“Where are you?” she was beginning to sound genuinely exasperated, but to be honest, Lily quite liked being a disembodied voice. It was freeing

“I’m under here,” she said eventually, and with great reluctance.

“Under—oh honestly,” some shuffling later Mary was kneeling on the floor and peering at Lily under the bed.

What the hell are you doing, is what Lily expected her to say. If it had been Petunia “freak” might even have been thrown in there somewhere. But the thing about Mary—the beautiful, fantastic, brilliant thing about Mary—was that she never did what you were expecting.

“I see,” is what she actually said, before sliding under the bed to lie right alongside Lily. “What’s happened then? You and your boyfriend have a fight?”

“Boyfriend?” Lily repeated confused, and then; “Oh—OH—no. Sev isn’t—we aren’t—we’re just friends.” Though her face blushed so furiously it burned.

Mary turned her head to look at Lily, brow arched. “Really? Then you two might want to stop making googly-eyes at one another all the time.”

“We don’t do that!” Lily said almost desperately.

“You do.”

“Don’t.”

“Do.”

“Don’t.”

“Do.”

“Don’t infinity.”

Mary rolled her eyes. “Whatever. So if that’s not why you’re under here, what is?”

Lily chewed on her lip, looking back up at the bottom of her bed. “I just think…I don’t know…that someone made a mistake.”

“Probably, but you’ll have to be more specific.”

At eleven Mary’s dry sense of humour was largely lost on Lily. Mary would later credit her wit to her childhood obsession with Monty Python.

“I just don’t think I’m supposed to be a witch.”

Lily didn’t have to turn her head to know that Mary was staring at her. “What do you mean “supposed to be” ? You ARE a witch?”

Lily let out a frustrated noise. “But I’m not really though, am I? I’m a Muggle.”

“That is literally not true.”

“Yes, but I know Muggle things and I like Muggle things and I don’t know anything about Wizards really. People like Marlene or Alice or, God, even James bloody Potter, those people are meant to be Wizards and Witches. It’s in their blood. It comes to them so naturally. None of this is natural to me.”

Mary continued to stare at her for long enough that Lily started to squirm. She had rather been hoping that out of everyone Mary would understand.

“Did you know that the Gryffindor Quidditch team is almost always Half-Bloods and Purebloods?” the other girl said suddenly.

Lily blinked, adjusting to this change in topic. “I—no, no I didn’t.”

Mary nodded. “And even when there are Muggle-borns they’re always seventh years, because it takes them that long to pick up the game,” her voice was determined. “Not me though, I’m gonna get it in three. I’m going to be the youngest Muggle-born Quidditch player ever on the Gryffindor team and you know why?”

Lily shook her head and Mary inched a little closer. “To piss them the fuck off.”

At that time swearing was still rather new to Lily so she actually gasped, and after several moments of shocked silence managed to stammer; “Them?”

Mary waved her hands above her as much as the bed would allow. “The powers that be, the system, the Man. The snooty Purebloods. Because I am every bit as much a Witch as they are,” her eyes locked onto Lily’s, “and so are you.”

After that they’d gone to the Great Hall and only eaten dessert for dinner and eventually Marlene had joined them and Lily had felt better and by Christmas she didn’t want to leave. But that moment under the bed, the moment her and Mary really became friends, had always stuck with her. Always made her smile a little. Made her feel better when someone in her class laughed at some bit of magic she didn’t know—something that was obvious—that little kids learned. I am every bit as much a Witch as you are, she’d think, channeling Mary as best she could. Because Mary never apologized for herself. Never felt embarrassed. Never backed down from a fight. She was unstoppable.

[athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit]

Of Ice and Blood

Part 6

Part 6~ cuz I love y'all <3 don't forget to drink your vitamins and keep hydrated! Stay safe and healthy my loves :)

Word count: 3k+ words

Pairing: Tai'chi Kashharzol (Orc) x Pearl Blackbell (Human OC/Reader)

Warnings: None. (tis a fluff-filled chapter)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

* beware of little shifts in perspective from two characters, we will be jumping casually from their minds.

*

You caught the orc staring at you again, with a smile that made his tusks jut out more. "H-Hi!" you blurted out, waving.

As you began walking towards him, you found yourself losing balance, your legs giving out. You closed your eyes reflexively and expected to land face-first on the tiled floor.

Only you didn't.

You felt a strong arm around your waist and a large hand on your back, nearly covering the expanse of it. Instead of the floor, you found yourself smushed against something warm, and that thing, you figured out a second later, was Tai'chi's chest. You became flustered and felt your cheeks and ears redden. Your nose was practically inhaling his scent now, all that musky and rich smell of his making you light-headed. Stuttering, you pulled your head back.

"I-I-I— Ta-Tai'chi???"

Congratulations self, that was perfect, wow.

"Hm? Oh, uh, sorry. I acted on impulse when I saw you collapse." He said as the grip he had on you slackened and moved to hold your shoulder to support you in case you fall again, his other hand, though, remained in its place behind you.

"Don't w-worry about it. My legs just gave out, haha."

That came out awkwardly.

Damn, he is fast.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asked, his words filled with genuine concern. Your ears were sporting a tinge of red, he noticed. Your scent also changed, signaling you were flustered.

"Ye-yep! We should uh, head back to class now. Oh! We haven't eaten anything for lunch." You said and as if on cue, your stomach grumbled to agree, followed by another grumble but louder, it wasn't yours but Tai'chi's.

The two of you laughed from the sounds they made.

"You're right. How about we go to the cafeteria first to grab something before we head back to our classroom?" He asked, smiling down at you.

"Great idea!" You agreed, a little too eager than you would've liked.

"We should get going then."

He straightened up and removed his hand from your shoulder when he was certain you wouldn't stumble again. Though, he let his hand on your back linger a bit longer even after you left the office.

**************************************

The trip to the cafeteria was peaceful, minus the sounds of muffled talking coming from the rooms. Tai'chi was beside you as you walked down the halls, thankful that your legs found their strength again.

Arriving at the significantly less crowded canteen, both of you went ahead and ordered some food before finding a place to eat. Spotting a vacant one a few tables from the main entrance, you trudged to it, Tai'chi following close. You sat down and got a clearer look at his tray.

It was a lot, though you expected it to be. There were more vegetables than meat though.

"Not a fan of meat?"

He looked at you and laughed, echoing through the whole cafeteria, which resulted in some students glancing in your direction.

You were a bit taken aback, not expecting that sort of reaction from him.

"I'm sorry. I just- I don't know why I found it funny. I meant no offense."

"None taken."

"To answer you, I'm a huge fan of meat, red meat to be exact. This was the only portion that's left when I asked for more. And I'm still growing so I made up for the lack of meat with the vegetables. We orcs love a healthy and hearty meal."

What he said made you smile even more.

"What about you?" He glanced at your tray to see a portion almost similar to his albeit more assorted. This made him look back up and you, flabbergasted. "You can eat all of that?"

You looked down to inspect your food choice, and you instantly felt self-conscious.

"I...Uhm yes. I can." You replied, albeit meekly.

Tai'chi noticed the sudden change in your voice and made himself clear; "No, no I didn't mean it like that. I'm just, well, as you already know I haven't met many humans aside from the ones in a village back home, so I was just surprised." Watching him explain himself made you smile again. The thought of you being repulsive vanished out into thin air.

"I eat a lot. Though sometimes I eat more junk than healthy food. Anyways, let's begin, shall we? We're already late and I'm starving!" Laughing, you both know today's attendance in class isn't much of an issue. They did say there won't be any lessons today to give time for 'socializing' instead.

You stopped in your tracks when you realized you haven't shown him your face ever since you met. You looked around to see if anyone was watching and stole glances at the one in front of you. You slowly removed your mask and revealed your face. Not many have seen you without it, only those who are close to you, specifically your family.

"I guess this is the first time you've seen my face, huh?" Nervous, you asked.

Tai'chi stared at you so intensely you felt self-conscious once again. "I-Is there something wrong?"

'Shit, does he find me unattractive? Weird? Not that I expected the opposite but —'

"No. No, there's nothing wrong. You-"

"I'm what?"

"You're beautiful."

'Did he just—'

Your face heated up again and this time you had no mask to hide it.

Hastily, you covered your face with one hand and looked away.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when you did, coughing into his fist before he started eating.

Once you cooled down, you did the same. Trying to focus on the savory food they served in the uni.

Eat, damn it.

You barely noticed the orc, or perhaps you chose not to, as you wolf down your food like you haven't eaten for weeks. Another thing he found admirable and attractive. You ate cleanly, not letting a single piece of food go to waste.

He'll have to find some time later to formally introduce himself, along with other...things.

***********************************

You leaned back on your chair, noticing Tai'chi doing the same, as you let the feeling of content wash over yourselves. The food was great! You made a note to thank the cook later.

You sat up after a moment and arranged your dirty utensils. You were against the thought of making the cafeteria's job of cleaning harder than it is. So you cleaned up, stacked plates properly in your tray with concentration, you didn't realize until later that you did the same to his dishes. You didn't spare a peek up into his eyes or else you'd make a fool out of yourself again. Taking a napkin, you wiped your mouth clean before you quickly put on your mask, much to Tai'chi's dismay.

You stood up but before you could walk away, a hand reached out to grab your arm, stopping you. He stood up from his seat.

"Pearl."

"Uh, yes?"

"There's still time before our next class starts. Would you mind taking a stroll around the campus with me?"

"Y-Yeah— sure. I wouldn't mind." You replied, avoiding his gaze.

The two of you strolled around the quiet grounds of the campus. There were trees, younger than the ones in the forest. You took in the nice scenery before you, feeling the fresh, cool air, the gentle rustling of leaves, calming, and the scent of your companion to your left, relaxing and sweet. You were in a daze, barely paying attention when Tai'chi said your name and stood still.

"Hmm?"

He chuckled lightly at your response.

"I want to continue where we left off in the forest."

"Oh. Oh, of course."

"I want to know more about you, Pearl. So I'll start with my true name." He knelt down which startled you momentarily.

.

"I am Tai'chi Kashharzol, eldest of five siblings, son of Durog and Gala. I come from the Northern stronghold of clan Fatof'san. Before I came down to the city, I was trained and taught basic socialization by an old human who lived in the village under our protection.

"I went through one of my clan's traditions and hunted down my first Snow Bear. The elders gave me an honorary title to carry, right after my kill."

You stood there listening to him earnestly as he told you all of this with pride, taking in each word and committing them into memory.

"I was given the name, 'Frostbreaker'. It is my warrior name." He took a breath before he asked. "Will you honor me of becoming my friend?"

All of this sounds like a confession— technically it is but there's something, intimate about it. The way his eyes shone with such determination and something you can't figure out.

Should I ask? He stopped talking, snap out of it–

"Oh, wow. I mean yes! Yes I'll be your friend. I'd be more than happy to. The honor is mine!"

You beamed as he returned a toothy grin.

"Right. I should also say something like that, well, uh, wait." You were slightly nervous as you removed your mask, offering a shy smile before speaking.

Breathe in.

And out.

"I am Pearl Blackbell, only child and daughter of Leon and Athena Blackbell. I'm from a town, West of here, Red Springs is its name. My parents taught me martial arts, and, uh, the use of self-defense weapons." You paused and showed him your crimson knuckles. "This is my favorite one to use, I'm sure you noticed already. My father... didn't want me to leave home without any assurance that I can defend myself. You were right when you said I have experience in combat. A decent amount of it," you sighed.

"I always, almost every day, get into trouble standing up for someone, bullied, or abused. I also held my own when someone tries to harass me, smashing their faces in."

Tai'chi in turn listened closely, his gaze intense on you. He was concerned about what you implied. Many attempted to assault you? How many times? Did they hurt you? Your smile faltered as you told him the next things about yourself.

"I... didn't have friends as I grew up. People tend to be afraid of what they do not understand, y'know? They didn't want me near them, finding me weird for wearing a mask, plus my reputation for punching humans didn't help," you laughed self-deprecatingly. "So I spent my whole high school years training, mastering my art with the help of my father, who was of course, very strict and hard on me." Finding nothing else comfortable to say at this stage, you went quiet.

"Can I ask you a question?" The orc said a moment later. He was bothered by the fact you had no friends, not even one. And training, training meant pain.

"Only if I can ask one in return." You replied, feeling bold all of a sudden. He grinned at this.

"Why do you always wear a mask?"

There was no trace of ulterior motive in his scent, not the usual annoyance you smelled every time someone asked the same question. So you answered him, honestly.

"Promise you won't get weirded out?"

"I swear on my name."

"Oh. oh, okay that's good. You see, my nose, or my sense of smell specifically, is err, not normal."

Now this made Tai'chi's eyes widen. Did you have an illness of sorts? Is your health in danger? Were you h–

"I can tell how someone is feeling based on the changes in their scent. My nose is very sensitive to odors so I keep wearing a mask every time I go outside. It has been like this since I was born. My doctors say it's rare for a human to possess, they say it's special, a gift from a higher being."

"When we went in the cafeteria after our first class, "—Tai'chi inserted— "Was the reason you stopped advancing inside further, the sour and disgusting smell of the students in there?"

"Yes, actually— Wait, how did you know?" you asked.

How does he know??? Did he just smirk?

"I can smell them too."

"You can?!"

"Yes."

"So you mean to tell me, my nose functions similarly like yours?"

"Yes, perhaps, a little bit differently. Or maybe it's because you didn't hone it."

"How can you say so?"

"I can block out certain smells if I want to. And based on your reaction early on, you're having a hard time doing so, is that right?"

"W-Well, yes. You're right. Usually, I'd wear a mask with a basic filtration device, but that doesn't work when I'm inside a closed space and the scents are all mixed up and concentrated."

Tai'chi nodded in reply. He began to stand up and you were met with his towering form once again. You took a step back so you can put less strain on your neck from looking up.

"You still owe me an answer to a question by the way."

"Go on and ask then."

"So, uh, is it just me or when you told me about you...it kind of felt different from how talking to a friend sounds like..." You fidgeted, a certain heat slowly creeps up your face again as you looked around not wanting to meet his gaze. You felt your heart rate increase as you noticed his scent change, telling you you were right.

Tai'chi sighed heavily and rubbed his temples before gathering the courage to talk.

"Yes, it was different."

"So..."

"We use that kind of formality, usually towards someone we want to court."

Did he say 'court'?!

"C-Court??" you squeaked. Pretty sure your face is redder than the color of your brass knuckles, your heart hammering in your chest you believed he could hear it.

"Courting, or dating, or whatever everyone calls it down here." Breathing in deeply, he returned to kneel before you and took your hands into his, large palms caressing your small ones.

"I'll have to rephrase my words."

He locked his gaze into yours, deep blue eyes to your mahogany ones.

"Will you allow me to court you, Pearl Blackbell?"

"W-Why would you want to court me?"

The hell would someone want to court me? I'm seen as a freak by most people and I'm not soft or girly like the others. I don't like skirts or dresses. I hate makeup. I have calloused hands, scars hidden under my clothes. I don't understand —

He gave you a soft smile, cutting off your train of self-deprecating thoughts. "I can hear your mind, Pearl. Don't think low of yourself. You are amazing, y'know that? The first time I saw your eyes, and the moment you fought for my sake, I knew I was smitten. You are graceful, each motion fluid and filled with strength, people would never expect you possess until they feel it through a punch you throw. You are kind, righteous, beautiful, strong, with a heart of gold. It is a shame how most people do not see it. I want to prove myself to you, and win your heart properly."

You were about to pass out from his confession when you remembered you need to respond! Gathering what courage and energy you have left, you answered.

"I...Oh my God... I don't know what to say— I've never experienced this, ever! I'm afraid I won't know what to do- what if I mess up? What if I—"

"Listen, liga ni..." He cut you off as he rubbed circles on your hands, that small shift of language sent his voice into a guttural one. "This is also a first for me, and I share your fears in this. But my wish to pursue you remains unwavered. I will try my best to woo you, and if I do something you didn't like, it is up to you to end the courting, any time you want, and I will stop immediately. I hope we would stay friends if it comes that..." He said as he broke eye contact and looked down.

"Tai'chi..." Seeing him sad like this made your chest twist in discomfort.

Steadying yourself, you studied him, his scent was pure, no malice within his words, he was speaking from his heart. With renewed confidence, you finally decided.

"Tai'chi Kashharzol...I wish to court you as well."

He snapped up his gaze back to you and saw you smile. He scented you just to make sure you weren't doing this out of pity. The moment he realized it was genuine he lifted you in the air and spun you around. You were surprised at the sudden outburst but laughed together with him once you got over it. He set you down after a while and moved his face close to yours but halted immediately when he saw your eyes widen.

"Too forward?" He asked.

"Y-Yeah." Your heart was doing backflips, even if that sounds so ridiculous.

He understood. "I apologize, I got carried away." But before he pulled back you pressed a quick kiss on his forehead. He almost purred from the gesture but suppressed it as not to scare you in any way. You were new to this after all. He cleared his throat and reached out a hand to you.

"We should head back, our class will start soon."

"O-okay." You moved to wear your mask again before taking his hand, enjoying the rest of the walk in silence. You were still nervous, but you decided to focus on the now.

I've never felt like this before... Is it a good thing? I think it is.

And with that on your mind, you let yourself relax.

*

A pair of cruel eyes witnessed the whole exchange, remaining unnoticed as he hid behind a tree, a good distance from where you stood. They watched you and the orc walk away before they went the other direction.

"She will be fun to break. A female, human Blackbell, tempting. This will be a great chance to demonstrate and prove how monstrous an orc could be." They snickered. "I will enjoy this, exceptionally."

"In time, Pearl. In time."

****************************************

Now now who is this suspicious person?!

Liga ni — means 'little one' (as an endearment) in Orcish

Tags: @crackinanutshell @kokokatsworld @mitchiesdungeon

[pluviophile-bookworm]

High School Musical: The Musical: The Series: The Rewatch pt. 4

I really need a pick-me-up after 2x11, and I feel like 1x7 might be what I'm looking for, so here I am again with another HSMTMTS rewatch. I'm genuinely so excited for both of these episodes, so without further ado, let's jump right into

1x6: She stands for... lies, pressure and very inappropriate suggestions (coming here after 2x11 might have been a mistake, actually)

I honestly don't get why Nini's reaction to seeing Ricky in full Troy costume was so big — he actually looked pretty ok to me. Sure, the wig is a bit too much, but so what, it's cute.

Ahhh my boy Reddy is so adorable in that talking head... 'click!' Gosh, I love seeing him so cheerful! Guess he's embracing his role as part of the crew. As he should.

'I'm home'. Yes, Sebby, and you look so good, too! Gosh, I love this scene so much. I can't believe I'd forgotten about it.

Gina looks beautiful, though — I mean, she looks beautiful in anything, but I really like the Taylor look on her.

Ok, I fully understand everyone's frustration about this picture — it's genuinely so hard to get a good picture of someone jumping up in the air, and I can only imagine what it would be like with six people. A bunch of my classmates tried to do something like that ages ago and, needless to say, it didn't go very well. No good pictures were taken that day.

Ah, Portwell: the early days. Ok, but wanting something and feeling like you have to get it is far from the same thing, EJ. Honestly, these two in their early days as accomplices... this is not the first time they've been like 'X is the same thing as Y' when it's obviously not. I mean, of course, that time they became accomplices because 'we want the same thing' — which, at that point, they didn't.

Ok, but they were in such unison with that 'Not now!'... couple goals! You know, even before either of them had considered the possibility of them being a couple for real.

That's a lot of pressure that Miss Jenn is putting on dear Carlito over there. I mean, he's one of the youngest at the drama club and he has to essentially do her job for her, all while she's not even sure if she'll be able to return to her job. I just... keep reminding myself that these kids are closer in age to my little brother than they are to me (except for EJ, who is precisely in the middle), and then the pressure they're under takes on completely new proportions in my mind. None of them should have to deal with all of this. And no amount of 'trust the process' is making it better.

'Should I just live vicariously through someone else?' Oh Reddy, you should just live for yourself. I mean, the truth is I don't practice what I preach most of the time, but I really do mean this. Just go out there and live your best life. You're not Ricky's therapy dog or anything (that being said, Ricky's getting a therapy dog when?).

What part of 'a forest of boys' does Nini not get? It's simple enough. Just help Carlos do his job, how about that? I mean, he shouldn't have to do everything himself anyway.

See? He cracked. That's what happens when you put all this responsibility on a teen's shoulders and be like 'deal with it'. He was just trying his best, you guys. He did not deserve all the clapback.

Ricky's forced optimism about Miss Jenn and the show is too much even for me. Sure, I know everything turns out mostly alright at the end, but this just sounds like Ricky's on the verge of a breakdown. You know, every time someone's been too unrealistically positive on this show, it has ended in a breakdown. And that's the last thing I want.

I do agree about the simple acoustic version of the song, though. Sometimes simple is the best option.

Major props to Carlos for going up to Mr. Mazzara like that. If someone had bullied me, and especially if that someone was a teacher, I'd never have dared to call them 'Benjamin Mazarra!' to their face. Even when he's on the verge of despair, this boy is still the boldest. And we love him for that.

Is this where the 'Carlos Surname' joke started, though? I had forgotten. It was funny while it lasted.

Ricky doesn't know it yet, but he's seriously playing with Gina's feelings there. And I don't blame him because, again, he doesn't know yet, but I still feel bad for her.

'Despite the 4.3 GPA, I'm actually an idiot.' — EJ is high intelligence, low wisdom, confirmed. Not that this is news, but I really don't remember much about this season, so I'm pointing this out now.

Now forgive me if I'm not feeling for Miss Jenn after 2x11... she did some really unforgivable things there. Still, as much as I want to say a real qualified teacher would not do any of that, my personal experience suggests otherwise, quite unfortunately. Miss Jenn might not be very emotionally mature, but not having legal teaching credentials is not her biggest issue, really. It is precisely her lack of emotional maturity.

OMG, Big Red accidentally invited the entire drama club over! And that, I guess, is half of how Redlyn established themselves as the hosts of every out-of-school drama club gathering. Thanksgiving is, of course, the other half. Gosh, those two were the parents of the drama club even before they were a couple. Guess they're soulmates in that way, too.

Ok, so I didn't comment on this after 2x8 when Big Red did it to Ricky, but now that I finally notice that Seb did it to Carlos, too (I took my time, thanks), I need to talk about the knee touch thing. See, this is exactly the amount of touch I used to be comfortable with (since I'm very touch-averse) — both on the giving and on the receiving end — and it can mean so much when you feel bad. It's a subtle 'hey, I'm here, it's going to be fine', a sort of hug-without-the-hugging... I feel like this is a gesture we don't see enough of in media and it can feel just as intimate as, say, holding hands or cuddling. I don't want to talk about kissing because I don't know anything about it. But I just love how we've got the knee touch depicted by both a romantic pairing and a platonic pairing in the show. Ok, rant over. But I just really wanted to talk about this because, well, I saw myself in it.

'Her past is a little bit sketchy'... I see, Ash has already started writing Truth, Justice and Songs in Our Key, even if she doesn't know it quite yet.

Miss Jenn finding out Mike is Ricky's dad is just as awkward as it should be. Whatever they had going on should have ended right then and there.

'... people in the dramatic arts are insane' — 'Thank you.' — Umm, Miss Jenn, you are not really helping your case there. Quite frankly, you're lucky you've got the allegiance of the entire drama club. I don't think they'd have your back as much after 2x11, though.

Ok, but... Big Red wearing a longcoat just to take it off for the dramatic flair of it all? An icon if I've ever seen one. Also, mad props to Larry for apparently learning this number in record time after Dara got injured.

Oh, and... mad props to all the kids in-universe for writing, rehearsing, and learning this entire number in one night.

So both Seb and Natalie have solo lines in the song... and Seb was promoted to main in s2. So does this mean Natalie will get the same treatment in s3? I mean, that will probably mean they'll try to stick her in some sort of romantic plot, and I really don't need that, but I really, really want her to be a main character.

Also, let's not forget we had our first Redlyn moment in this number... seeing them dance together makes my heart jump with joy!

I won't lie, though, the entire dance number and everything was just a little bit uncomfortable to watch after 2x11... these kids do so much for Miss Jenn, and what does she do? Put insane amounts of pressure on some of them, shuts others down at every attempt to put in a word, favours yet others despite their abysmal performance at the audition, and then has the audacity to tell that same person to jump off of something high, with all the implications attached? Not that I'm naming any names, of course. Ok, this has taken a sudden and uncalled for turn for the dark, so I guess I'll just move right along to the next episode now.

1x7: A world where 'That was terrible!' and 'I'm so happy!' can both be true at the same time

My girl Ash is doing the recap! And she's a pun queen, too. 'Miss Jenn was in hot water, Carlos was a hot mess...' — not pleasant, but so true. But wbk. Ashlyn is the best.

And... Ricky and Nini's on and off chemistry is back on. Good for them, because after season 2, I really needed to see a good rehearsal. But I'm thinking EJ's joy at the end-of-school bell had little to do with Thanksgiving...

That look Reddy gave Ashlyn as she was walking out... might be me digging for breadcrumbs, but I think I just saw the exact moment my boy fell, and he fell hard. Ok, I realise now after I've said this that 'fall' probably isn't the best choice of words, but you know what I mean. Fell for Ashlyn. Not like... oh, never mind.

'So meek, so mild, sword!' I can't really explain it, but I love this line. And I feel like it describes Ash so perfectly: like, she might be meek and mild, but if you cross her, she's armed. Gosh, I love her!

Not the Caswell parents leaving their children alone over two holiday breaks! No wonder these two are the way they are. But they're about to get a beautiful Thanksgiving celebration. [Fun personal fact: the year I was born, my birthday fell on Thanksgiving day. That doesn't mean much in Bulgaria, but my dad works with a lot of Americans so my parents knew about it and I've known this and that about this holiday I've never celebrated since I was very young. I have no idea why I'm telling you this, but Thanksgiving has always reminded me of my birthday for this reason, so... ok, moving on.]

So I know she kind of suggested it, but... why does Carlos think it's his place to invite people over to Ashlyn's? I mean, this was part 2 of Redlyn establishing themselves as the hosts for any out-of-school gathering, but... oh well, it led to a beautiful party with everyone, so... I'll allow it.

I really liked Nini's talk with her grandma. It was really nice, and a very fitting way to remind everyone what Thanksgiving is originally about. I feel like people often forget that when it comes to... literally every major commercialised holiday.

Wow, EJ really is that person where once the tap is open, it can't stop spilling. And I kind of like that look on him. It's a transitional stage between EJ 1.0 and EJ 2.0, and I appreciate it for what it is.

Ahhhh it's Redlyn's first proper 1-on-1 conversation! I mean, it got kind of really awkward really quickly because of — surprise, surprise — Nini and Ricky (and EJ), but those two are so adorable! No more breadcrumbs — we're about to get an entire five-course meal here! Which goes really well with the Thanksgiving setting, now that I think of it.

Gosh, they've never really talked and my boy whips out the 'the only thing I'd ever throw at your face is a brighter spotlight' line right off the bat? Boy is whipped! But like, he is the master of grand gestures where Ashlyn is concerned. Still, in this first moment they shared, he really was like, go big or go home, and home isn't really an option here. But I should have known, it's in his name after all. Gosh, I love both of those two so much! Especially when they're together.

Ok, so... this is a really bad way to meet your mother's new boyfriend. Poor Ricky. As if ringing his mum wasn't hard enough already.

See, when I rewatch season 1, I get where the Rina stans are coming from, but then again, remember when I used to say I wanted Gina and EJ to just be friends? Yeah, that's changed too. Not that I ever shipped Rina romantically — I rarely ever ship a pairing unless they're explicitly stated to have something going on, just because I can't see that sort of stuff very clearly — but I really, really want them (Ricky and Gina, I mean) to be really good friends. Once they get past the awkwardness of their sort of history, I mean.

I miss the good old days when Nini was a nice person... I mean, we kind of (really) had a glimpse of that in 2x11 (I'm guessing she was making up for Miss Jenn's very inappropriate slip-up), but I miss the days before she was this big internet-famous songwriter and actually had to be convinced by Ashlyn that she should write songs for herself... wait, now that I think of it... Ashlyn might have helped create a monster there. Oh well. Still love her so much!

You know, I love the Choosical, but it's all a bit sad, if you stop to think about it for a sec. Just picture little single-digit-aged Carlito making this whole thing up in an attempt to participate in his favourite thing... only to not have anyone to play with for the next ten years. Great, I just made myself cry. The thing is, I relate to that story a bit too much. I remember in preschool, when the rest of the children would play together, I'd sit in a corner by myself and read the only book that was there... over and over, day after day. I don't even remember a single thing about that little book right now, but back then I clung to it like it was everything. And I couldn't very much share the experience with any of my peers, seeing as I was the only kid there who could actually read (my grandma used to be a preschool teacher and she taught me to read when I was 4). So yeah. I went off on a rather personal tangent there. Thing is, I know how little Carlos felt and I'm so happy that he finally gets to share this thing he made with a loving and supportive group of friends. Everything has its time and place, I guess.

'Look, I'm not following Big Red just because he paid me a compliment' — of course not, dear, you know your own worth and we love that for you — but see, when he said that thing that you're referring to as a compliment, he did not lie! You really are the brightest star and deserve the brightest spotlight. See, the thing I love most about Redlyn's compliments to each other is that they're so sincere and state nothing but the absolute truth. Those two just see each other for what they are, and love each other as they are. And I think that is beautiful.

It's so funny to me every time someone gets something wrong and Carlos just walks past them out of nowhere and corrects them without missing a beat. I kind of relate to that side of him, too. Except it's usually about grammar and language in my case, not HSM trivia.

If I were Nini in this scene, and was suddenly put face to face with Emily on the spot like that, I would not have been able to handle it. So props to Nini for handling it.

Yeah, sorry to break it to you, Emily dear, but whatever you're doing is not a Cockney accent. I don't claim to be an accent expert, but I know first-hand what Cockney sounds like and... that's just not it. Even Dick Van Dyke was closer to a Cockney accent in Mary Poppins, and that's saying something. (See, I feel bad criticising any aspect of Emily because her actress is no longer with us, but... I have no idea who let them get away with passing this off as Cockney).

Is this the beginning of Jennzara there? I am loving this.

Of course Carlos was obsessed with Glee as a kid... but wasn't he a bit too young for it when it aired? I know I was, and I'm older than those kids. I mean, I waited until I was emotionally mature enough to watch Glee, and that wasn't until 3 years ago, when I was 18 going on 19. Ok, I'm thinking too much into this. Moving on.

Ahhhhh, Redlyn! Just... all of their moments. But screaming the lyrics of What I've Been Looking For on top of their lungs while looking right at each other... was so beautiful to watch. Give me more of that!

EJ: 'That was terrible.' Seb: 'I'm so happy!' — Moods, both of them. Those two are real-life emojis, aren't they? And we love them for that.

'... without laughing... or killing each other.' — I feel like that last specification was needed given that it's Ricky and EJ we're talking about, and especially what happened last time they had to do a one-on-one exercise during rehearsal. The ensuing scene, however, is the most hilarious thing!

Root beer, huh? Is that the HSMTMTS code for 'awkward' now? I mean, Nini and Gina had a nice talk there, all things considered. I really want the two of them to put the Ricky thing past them and be friends... but we'll see.

Gina is trying to make the sleepover thing look like 'it's not a big deal' despite how big of a deal it obviously is to her... to which I say, good for you, girl, but I wouldn't know. The only sleepovers I've ever had have been with my little cousin who is 9 years younger than me and also insists on sleeping with a very bright nightlight on, which means I can't sleep at all. So yeah, I wouldn't know. But I'm happy that Gina is feeling included.

So this is the exact moment when it becomes clear that Big Red is not telling us the complete truth when it comes to his HSM knowledge... '14 and 10'? Even I didn't know that. I knew 14, but... for someone who allegedly 'hates musicals', my boy has very detailed knowledge of one certain musical movie... I love how it got him a certain girl's attention, though. Not that she wasn't already paying attention to him, if you catch my drift.

Ok, but this hits even harder now than it did the first time — just when Gina has finally managed to make friends, to feel included in their group, her mum has to move her away again. This is straight-up tragic. I'll say it now, and I'll probably say it again when it comes up in the rewatch — Ashlyn is an absolute queen for taking Gina in for the next semester.

'That's sort of what you always do, huh? Take care of everyone else' — yeah, Ash, and you do the same. You two just need someone to do for you what you do for other people. See, guys, this is what I mean. This is why they're soulmates. Because in a world that has more or less forced both of them to put others first, they put each other first. They each get to be the most important person to each other after they've been stepping back for others all the time. And if that isn't beautiful, I don't know what is. I know I'm repeating myself over and over saying this, but... they own my heart and soul and I'm not for sale.

Ok, but Ashlyn's little run after Big Red left was so cute! Girl is... I don't know why I keep using that word, but... falling.

Unpopular opinion: Out of the Old is the best Nini solo to come out of this series to date. Maybe I feel that way just because I relate to it most, but hey, that is a valid reason to like something.

Oof, EJ's losing followers. Oh well, if they're unfollowing him for being too honest, they didn't like the real him to begin with. So good riddance to them.

Yikes... Jennzara fell asleep with flammable stuff left unattended... we all know how that ended, but just the fact that they felt comfortable enough to fall asleep in each other's presence... speaks volumes. So I guess... well, I don't know what exactly I'm saying regarding the fire they caused, but I loved this big little moment they had.

So this is it. That was 1x6 and 7 and, well, they were beautiful, but there are some parts I can't look at in the same way anymore after 2x11. Guess that's the risk of a rewatch. The Redlyn scenes, though — still the best part of both of these episodes. That and a couple of other things for which I don't need to pretend like I haven't seen season 2.

[puckinghell]

The Plus One Pact | William Nylander | Part 2

Summary: Your ex is getting married, and you don’t have a date, which means the unavoidable “why don’t you have a boyfriend” question is about to haunt you for the rest of eternity. But then there’s Will, who could be the answer to all your problems. A simple business pact, no feelings involved: that won’t be hard for you, because you really don’t like him anyways. Except pacts were made to be broken… or something. Right?

Note: This is part 2. Click here for part 1. 

-- 

“I’m sorry I bailed.” Zach is sitting on the couch, his leg up on a pillow. Lady is laying on the floor, and both of them are looking equally guilty.

You think maybe Lady puked in Zach’s shoes somewhere again, and maybe he kinda deserved it.

“I hate you,” you tell him, but there’s no heat behind it. Alannah comes out the bedroom holding a pair of shoes.

“See if these fit you,” she orders, giving them to you.

“I like your wife more than you,” you say to Zach, who just laughs. He knows that’s not true: you love them equally.

You may love Lady a little more than both of them combined, however.

“I think it’s good that you’re going with Willy,” Zach says. “You can practice looking like you don’t hate him.” He holds out your cup of coffee, and you take a sip before handing it back to him.

If he’s not going to this wedding with you, he might as well hold your drink.

“I don’t hate him,” you mumble. “I just don’t adore him like you do. You worship the ground he walks on.”

“I think you’d get along great, if you tried,” Alannah says, although you can’t remember asking for her opinion – fine, maybe you’re a little grumpy about it all. “He’s very funny, and he’s easy to chat to. Your family will love that.” She grins. “Besides, he’s hot.”

“Very hot,” Zach nods in agreement, and it would be weird if it wasn’t how everyone responded to William Nylander.

It’s exhausting, to be honest.

Zach, being the great friend that he often is, must notice your reluctance, because he smiles, and his voice is gentle when he says: “Hey, you look beautiful, Y/N. Honestly, nobody is gonna believe that you brought Willy, you’re way outta his league.”

You’re about to tell him to stop lying – you’re not stupid, thank you very much, and William Nylander is still very much not in your league, maybe not even in the same sport - when there’s a knock on the door.

“Must be him.” Alannah fixes your hair and your dress, and Zach gets up and hobbles towards the door, Lady on his heels.

“It’s gonna go great,” she whispers with a wink, and you wonder if you look that nervous, or if your friends just know you very well.

It’s just…

Fine, normally you don’t like Will, but you can stand him for an hour or two. Especially because you’re never alone with him, so you just plaster yourself to Zach’s side, or Mitchy’s, or Dermie’s, or…

Well, anyone, really.

But now you are alone with him, and for multiple hours at that, and you’re going to have to convince your boss and your colleagues that he’s your plus one.

How on earth are they ever going to believe you? Worse, what if someone recognizes him?

“Wow, you look great.”

You turn around to see Will staring at you, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. He’s cleaned up nice, to be fair; his grey suit fits just right, hugging his muscles in all the right places, and you can tell he’s actually put effort in his hair today.

“Already told her she’s out of your league, buddy,” Zach jokes, slapping Will on the shoulder the way bro’s do, sometimes, and then there’s some pleasantries exchanged and Alannah fixes your lipstick and then suddenly you’re in Will’s car.

It’s a nice car, but it’s not overly posh or flashy, and it surprised you a little. With Will’s ridiculous clothing choices something – Balenciaga socks, really? – you’d expected him to have some sorta matched car to Mitchy’s stupid sports car.

“You look like I’m putting you in a tractor,” Will laughs, as he starts the car. You must’ve been looking around a little dazed, and you feel your cheeks heat up at the notion that you’ve been caught.

“Sorry,” you say. Then, because you wanna start this day off on the right note: “It’s a nice car, just not what I expected from you.”

Will hums. “Usually when people say that, it’s not a compliment.”

But he doesn’t say it in a malicious way, just very matter of factly, so you don’t bother to defend yourself – he’s kinda right, after all – and just listen to the music that he puts on.

“Country?” you feel yourself smile. “Where’s the ABBA?”

“I was born in Calgary,” Will rolls his eyes in a playful way, then turns up the music.

It’s not until you’re almost there that Will speaks.

“So, how do you wanna do this?”

For a second, you wonder what he’s talking about; you were lost in the music and staring out the window at the beautiful scenery surrounding you. Your boss is getting married in an old, beautiful mansion somewhere in the countryside, and you’re surrounded by green fields and scenic streams.

“Oh, I thought we’d just go in and like, see what happens. We’re only gonna go to the reception, not the ceremony, so it should be good. Drinks and food and music, and stuff.”

“I meant more in regards to the fake dating stuff.”

“Oh.” Now your cheeks are truly flaming. “I mean, I guess I could just introduce you as my plus one and they’ll assume we’re dating?”

Then, - and you have no idea where this came from - you add: “We could try to look flirty, so it makes more sense.”

Willy nods in agreement. “You’re a smart one.” When you snort in response, he raises an eyebrow. “What, I can’t say that?”

“No, you can.” You decide to tell him the truth. “It’s just funny cause the one thing I never liked about Noah was that he would always compliment me on my appearance when I was dressed up or whatever, but he would never compliment me on any accomplishments or my characteristics or just, anything other than my body, basically.” You look out of the window. “I’ve been thinking a lot about him because of this wedding stuff, and I guess it’s just one of those things that tells me it was never meant to be.”

It stays quiet in the driver’s seat, and when you glance up at Will he’s frowning.

“Literally everything you’ve said about this guy makes me want to punch him in the nose,” he finally says, and there’s an edge to his voice. “You deserve so much better, Y/N, and…” He cuts himself off, settles on; “He just sounds like a dick.”

You must be staring at Will like he grew a second head, because that’s not what your… acquintanceship, has ever been like. You’re not even really friends, and Will has never said anything to you that wasn’t a mere observation – “nice restaurant” – a question about logistics – “did you wanna hop in this Uber or are you going to ride with Matts?” – or, well, a chirp.

But he seems genuinely offended on your behalf and you have to admit it warms your heart a little.

Maybe, just maybe, you kinda see why Zach likes him. This type of loyal, fierce protectiveness reminds you of your best friend a lot. Maybe Will isn’t so bad.

“We’re there,” Will says then, and the mansion that dooms up in front of you is big enough to be classified as a castle, you think. Will parks the car, but doesn’t get out. “So,” he asks, eyeing you carefully, “you ready?” 

Not really.

But you nod anyway. 

--

As soon as you walk into the building, which is massive and beautiful, one of your colleagues comes running up to you.

“Ellie,” you greet her with a smile, and she kisses your cheek quickly.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she beams. “It’s just no fun without you.”

Ellie is one of your favorite colleagues, always down to go on coffee breaks with you and talk about whatever is on your mind. If anyone would know that you were going to take Will to the wedding, it would’ve been her, except she hadn’t known, so you’re not surprised by her wide eyes as she takes Will in.

“Hello?” she asks, an obvious question mark at the end of her sentence.

“Hi, nice to meet you.” Will’s smile is bright and polite. “I’m Will, Y/N’s plus one for the night.”

“Oh, how lovely!” Ellie smiles, then turns to you and hisses: “You didn’t tell me you were gonna bring a hot guy!”

Except she’s not being quiet or subtle at all, and a smug smirk appears on Willy’s face.

Just when you thought his head couldn’t get any bigger.

It turns out to be way easier than you thought it would be, to go around and introduce people to Will.

Nobody mentions that they recognize him and you’re glad for it, because the one time someone stared at him a bit too long Willy started shuffling on his feet and staring at the floor, as if the attention made him uncomfortable.

You know it doesn’t, because you’ve seen him with fans before, but you can’t help but be glad that he doesn’t have to be William Nylander from the Toronto Maple Leafs, tonight.

It’s not like you would really know how to handle that.

Apart from that moment, Will fits in like he was always supposed to be there. He charms your coworkers, your boss, and it doesn’t surprise you because you don’t think you’ve ever met anyone who’s not been charmed by him, but it still lifts a weight off your chest.

At first, Will follows you around the room while you talk to people. He stays close enough that his shoulder keeps brushing yours, and every now and then his hand lays heavy on your lower back.

You suppose it’s better that way, to make people think that you actually like each other.

Somehow, though, and you really don’t remember the exact time you lost him, Will ends up talking to some people you’ve not even ever met before, while you’re standing by the bar with Ellie.

“So,” Ellie says, and the knowing tone in her voice puts you on edge. “You forgot to mention you have a smoking hot boyfriend.”

Immediately, you go into defense. “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s a friend of Zach’s, and he’s come as my plus one as a favor.”

Ellie knows Zach from your birthday dinners, and she nods knowingly.

“I figured. He plays hockey, too, right?”

How the hell does she know that?  

The question must show on your face because she laughs. “It’s not rocket science. Have you looked at his ass?”

You can’t say you’ve never looked at it, but you haven’t looked at it today. However, now that she’s mentioned it, you can’t stop yourself from letting your gaze travel.

His ass looks really good in that suit, you have to admit.

“If you thought he was my boyfriend, why were you looking at his ass anyway?” It’s mostly teasing, but Ellie hears the underlying edge under it and rolls her eyes.

“I don’t have to drive the car to admire the engine.”

It such a ridiculous comparison that you burst out laughing. You’re still giggling when Ellie adds: “However, if you’re not dating, maybe I’ll go shoot my shot.”

Something twists in your stomach, but there’s absolutely no reason for it. Why would you care if she flirts with Will? He’s not actually dating you. 

“You do that,” you tell her, and you ignore the heavy feeling in your stomach as she winks at you and saunters over at Will.

The thing is, Ellie is exactly the kinda girl you’d expect Will to be interested in. She’s beautiful, with long legs and long hair, and she’s witty and funny and smart. She’s also actually good at flirting – you’ve seen her in enough bars to know that.

You watch as Will turns to her, welcoming her with a sly smirk and a hand on her elbow. She throws her head back when she laughs, and suddenly your wine doesn’t taste so good anymore.

You don’t really see Will – or Ellie, for that matter – the rest of the evening. You go around and mingle with people you don’t really care about, congratulate the happy couple and drink a little too much wine.

It’s a lot later when suddenly, a familiar hand lands on your lower back.

“Don’t kill me,” Will’s voice sounds low in your ear. “But I did something kinda dumb.”

Oh no.

You put on your fakest smile as you excuse yourself from your conversation and let Willy pull you with him through the crowd, until you’re in an empty hallway that you think leads to the kitchen.

“What did you do?” you hiss, and Willy’s hand drops away from you as he stares to the floor.

“First, you need to promise not to get mad,” he says.

You really can’t promise that, but Will has crossed his arms and is stubbornly staring at you, and you know Will is used to getting what he wants and won’t tell you unless you agree with him. So you do.

“Fine.”

“So your friend Ellie was flirting with me,” he starts. Instantly, your blood runs cold; if he did something to upset her… “Fucking hell, Y/N, I didn’t hurt her.” Will rolls his eyes. “What kinda jerk do you think I am?”

He seems genuinely offended and you chide yourself for rushing to conclusions like that, when you’ve never known Will to be that kinda guy.

Sure, he’s annoying, cocky and loud and flippant, sometimes, but he’s not evil. He’s one of Zach’s best friends, after all.

“I was nice to her,” Will continues, “and she was nice, too. Super hot.” His eyes twinkle, and you have to shove back the flash of annoyance that tears through your body. You don’t need Will to see that.

“Anyway, I’m here supposed to be dating you, so obviously I didn’t flirt back, but she wasn’t giving up and it was getting a bit much, so I thought, if I just talk with someone else she’ll get the hint. And I was just being nice to that other girl, but I guess it looked like I was flirting.”

The most horrible thought crosses your mind.

“You didn’t flirt with the bride!”

The sigh Will lets out is heavy. “No, obviously not. You have a really low opinion on me, huh?”

You kinda do, but you just stare at him blankly.

“It was just some girl who maybe kinda has a boyfriend, and now that boyfriend maybe kinda wants to break my face.” His eyes widen comically. “I have a very nice face, I don’t want to break it.”

You can’t help it; immediately, you’re snorting out laughter.

“Willy,” you giggle, “are you telling me you’re about to get beat up at a wedding?”

Will huffs. “It’s not funny. He was massive.”

Suddenly, you think of something. “Oh my God, please tell me it’s not Rick from finance.”

“What does Rick from finance look like?” Willy’s eyes are wide and a little wild.

With every detail you describe, he gets paler, until he nods. “Yep, I’m pretty sure it was Rick from finance.”

“Rick from finance does MMA fighting in his spare time,” you tell him, finally feeling a little sorry for him. “He could destroy you.”

Will reaches out and grabs your hand, squeezes it tight as if that will somehow keep him safe. “We have to get out of here.”

Maybe, if you were a lesser person, you would’ve stayed, just to see Willy sweat. But you do feel bad for him and to be honest, you’re tired and kinda done with the wedding, anyway.

“Okay, let’s go home,” you promise him, softly patting his hand with yours. “But when we get home, I’m so gonna tell Zach you nearly got beat up by some guy in finance.”

“Don’t you dare,” Will threatens, but he’s smiling again and you won’t admit to yourself that you’re glad for it.

“Hey, Y/N?” 

“Yes?”

“I really wasn’t flirting with that girl, or the other girl. I wouldn’t do that when I came here with you.”

And it shouldn’t matter, it really shouldn’t. 

It kinda does, anyway. 

[phantom-curve]

find the strength, find the melody pt. 7

lmfao I love how I posted an update 2 days ago like “this fic will have sporadic posts! idk when they’re coming!” and then I spent the last two days writing this. when that insomnia inspiration hits ya gotta just go with it!

this chapter went in a completely different direction than I had planned on soooo yeah...honestly not sure where this is gonna end up! the characters from my OC novel that I’m loosely basing this story around didn’t have a connection before they ran into each other so when Julie gave me this I almost cut it because I genuinely wasn’t sure where it was going. I think I’ve almost figured it out and I’m pretty sure I know how this will end. and now we all get to laugh at me together because it’s definitely gonna be more than 3-4 chapters. it might even be more than 6. Luke’s POV will have roughly the same amount of chapters I think, possibly longer because boy oh boy does he have A LOT to say (most of it about Julie). fair warning: this one has an awkward cut off because of the way I need to set up the next chapter. sorry about that.

and now something I probably should be embarrassed to admit: I don’t remember writing the part where I managed to sneak an “I’ve Got The Music” reference in so now we know for sure this show has infiltrated my brain. it’s fine, I’m fine, at least I WILL BE WHEN WE GET A S2!!!! KENNY!!!! SAVE ME HERE!!! MAKE MY UNHINGED OBSESSIONS WORTH IT!!!!!

taglist: @blue-hat-girl, @lwhoscribbles, @bluefyoto94, @5sosmukefan, @moonlightxnder, @leahthewonder​, @kat-maybe-not​, @lukewearingbeanies, @imastrugglingartist​​

It was no small miracle that Julie made it through the afternoon without Ray asking for details about her supposed ‘plan’ to play with the Sunset Curve boys. She didn’t think she would have been able to pull off spinning a story quite as well as Luke had earlier. She had expected at least a small amount of interrogating about when she had started playing again, but apparently the news that she was playing at all, let alone with other people in front of an audience, was enough for Ray to ignore all of the other plot holes involved in this scheme. He seemed to have almost forgotten the meeting with Principal Lessa entirely, humming on the drive home, kissing her forehead and turning her loose to freak out alone in her room while he sat down to work on his computer in the dining room. Julie took full advantage of the time alone to restlessly pace her room and send Flynn a 911 text. Her bestie’s contact photo lit up the phone screen 30 seconds later.

“Okay, I’m hiding in the basement girl’s bathroom, so you’ve got exactly 5 minutes before I get too grossed out to stay here.”

Julie’s chest loosened at the sound of Flynn’s comforting voice. There wasn’t anyone else in the world that loved her the way Flynn did. It was reassuring and made it easy for Julie to let loose.

“Lessa told Dad about the music program and then You-Know-Who ambushed us outside of her office and basically forced me to agree to perform with them.”

“Voldemort was at Los Feliz?!”

Flynn’s gasp was overflowing with sarcasm.

“Flynn!” Julie whined. “Be serious! Luke showed up out of nowhere again! And he did the thing again! The charming his way into getting what he wants thing! And now I have to play with his freaking band! What the hell am I supposed to do?”

There was silence for a moment. When Flynn spoke again her voice was softer, more serious.

“You don’t have to play with them, Jules. You can tell them no, and they’ll have no choice but to respect that. The only person who can make you do anything is you. But...I kinda think you might want to play with them.”

“What?! No!”

Julie’s exclamation was a second late. Flynn didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. Julie sighed.

“Okay fine. There’s something about Luke that makes me want to play again. Are you happy? He gave mom’s song back to me when I thought it was lost forever. He’s the only person who’s heard me perform it, and he...no one else has ever made me feel that good about my music before.”

Julie thanked her lucky stars Flynn wasn’t in the room to see her blush. There was a long moment of contemplative silence on the other end of the line. When she spoke again, there was that extra note of take-no-shit in Flynn’s voice that made Julie sit up and really listen.

“I think you should give it a chance. Who knows, maybe this is some sort of sign from your mom. You said it was a miracle he would have even found that song in the first place. You said it felt like she was there with you when you were playing. Maybe she made sure it would find its way back to you when you were ready for it.”

Julie didn’t say anything, just worried her bottom lip with her teeth. Her heart beat a little faster in her chest. It had felt a little too perfect to be just a coincidence. The way Luke kept appearing in her life at the exact moments she needed him someone or something to help her keep moving forward. Flynn sighed.

“Look, I’m not saying it is your mom. But I’m not saying there’s not some kind of greater power out there that keeps pushing the two of you together. I think you should give it a chance. If nothing else, you can get back in the music program and we can bring Double Trouble to life in time for our Junior Showcase!”

Julie couldn’t help laughing. Her eyes felt misty, love for her best friend welling up in her heart.

“I never agreed to that name you know. But thanks, Flynn. I’ll think about it.”

“Good. Now. I gotta get the fuck out of this grimy ass bathroom. Love you, bye!”

Flynn waited for her to return the sentiment before hanging up.  Julie flopped back on her bed, letting her breath out in a loud whoosh as she hit the comforter. A glance at her phone told her she only had a couple hours until Luke and the other boys would be out of school and on their way to her house. She tried her best to ignore the way that thought made her stomach roll with a type of nervousness she would rather not name. It was easier to blame it on nerves over playing with new people rather than nerves over playing with Luke. Except...now that she actually thought about it, she had played with Luke before. Her head spun, eyes fluttering shut as she remembered the one music class she had shared with Luke last year.

She had only been a freshman, stuck in a lowly Introduction to Composition class. It was supposed to be for new songwriters. Julie had a little more experience than the rest of the class, after all she’d been kind of composing with her mom for a few years now, so when it had been time to write a duet for their final big project she had gotten paired up with the classmate whose skill level most matched hers. It was supposed to be a way for them to challenge each other and grow as writers instead of one person doing most of the work. Julie had been paired with Luke.

He’d been a grumbly sophomore, held back for failing his last semester of Intro to Comp the year before. He had been stuck there only for the second semester, forced to double up between their class and his second year Composition class. Julie hadn’t been all that excited about partnering with him. He hadn’t really seemed to care about the class at all, and even though Julie also sometimes felt like it was holding her back a little bit, she never once voiced that thought. It was a privileged mindset, and Julie was well aware that she had an advantage over her classmates since her mother was a professional songwriter. Luke, on the other hand, had made it well known that he felt like he was wasting his time just waiting to get through the semester so he could move up to the Advanced Composition class that he felt he truly belonged in. Julie could usually do no more than roll her eyes in those moments.

It was true that Luke was talented. His guitar playing was impressive, his lyrics were heartfelt and sometimes even downright poetic. Julie just didn’t think anyone deserved specific things in life because they happened to be naturally talented at something. Their songwriting experience had been...interesting to say the least. And short. It had ended abruptly when Julie’s mother had died 5 days later. In the end, they’d only worked together for two 40-minute class periods before she had been lost in the fog of grief that consumed her in the weeks following the loss of her mom.

Julie shot up in bed, eyes wide. She didn’t even fully remember what had happened with the half-finished song they had been working on. Errant notes echoed in her head, like a song that had only existed in dreams until now. She absently wondered if Luke had held onto that as well. It was no wonder she had kept that particular memory suppressed all this time. That time in her life had been particularly painful. Luke had been gentle with her though. Almost all traces of his typical arrogance gone in the two short class periods they’d had to work together. He had kept things light, steering their songwriting in the direction of a rock ballad more than a true duet. Julie hadn’t minded. She had been floating through classes by then anyway, on edge every second she was away from her mom’s bedside. It had been easier to work on something that didn’t have as many sappy emotions attached to it.

She groaned, burying her face in her hands. No wonder Luke had been so sweet with her. He must have had a front row seat to her breakdown throughout the last year. She hadn’t even realized it. Had never before seen the way he watched her from a distance, checked in on her during class. She should have. Now that she was thinking about it, trying to identify every instance, she could name a million. How had she missed it for so long? How had he gone so long without saying anything? The Luke she remembered was terrible at keeping his mouth shut. He had always been ready to speak his mind, never afraid to start a discourse. It didn’t track that he had been holding himself back. Unless...it was more about her musical ability than anything else. She remembered now; Luke had been thrilled to partner with her for the duet. He had made some remark about how her sound was the perfect complement to his. Maybe he only cared about the ways they would mesh as songwriters. She could only hope that’s what his words had meant.

She felt more secure in her footing as a musician when it came to dealing with Luke than she ever had as a simple teenaged girl. If it was just about the music she could compartmentalize better, keep herself from getting too emotionally invested. Music had always been a safe zone, neutral. She breathed in and out deeply, remembering the technique Dr. Turner had taught her to slow her breathing and recenter her mind. She could do this. It was just about the music. They would play a song together, Julie would get back into the music program, and life would move forward much in the way it had before. Except Julie would actually participate in class this time. She had the music back in her soul, she wasn’t ever going to let it go again. On her next exhale, she heard the doorbell ring. Showtime. Julie zipped down the stairs, ripping open the door before her dad had a chance to get more than three feet away from his computer. Luke, Alex and Reggie all stumbled back a step as she tumbled outside, pulling the front door shut behind her. The three teenaged boys shared a look.

“Studio. Now.”

Julie raced down the path to her mom’s studio before they could react, not even waiting to see if they followed her. If they were smart, if they truly wanted to do this, they would. She hauled the garage doors open, only turning around when she had the piano at her back. The wood felt warm and solid, almost like she had her mom as a support behind her instead of an instrument. The boys appeared seconds later, Luke leading the way. He stopped a couple feet inside of the studio, studying her with wide open earnest eyes. She let out a deep breath. Reggie spoke up before she could get a word out.

“Woah, Julie, this studio is so cool! It’s like a tiny home! A musical tiny home in a botanical garden!!”

His green eyes were wide, expression awed as he spun to take in the space that Julie and her mom had spent countless hours turning into theirs.

“How did you get chairs on the ceiling?! Are you, like, a witch and a siren?!! Man, you and your mom must have made some serious magic in here.”

Luke’s arm shot out faster than lightening to backhand Reggie’s bicep. Reggie cringed away, a soft owww! just barely audible over the loud sigh Alex let out as he buried his face in his hands. Reggie shrugged, looking back and forth between his bandmates before giving Julie a confused yet apologetic glance. What had he said wrong this time? The giggle that bubbled out of her was as unexpected as it was welcomed. Warmth blazed in her heart, memories of the time she had spent in here with her mom washing over her with a kind of hazy bliss she hadn’t ever experienced before. She gazed at Reggie, letting that same feeling of motherly love from the night before fill her up. It was all she could do not to react to Luke’s jaw dropping when she gave Reggie a soft smile.

“We did. We made so much magic in here.”

The words were gentle and filled with a kind of genuine love that overshadowed all other feelings of awkward nervousness. Alex and Luke relaxed instantly, Reggie’s face losing all traces of uncertainty as he beamed at her with a smile so large it almost looked painful. Julie couldn’t help but let herself return it, just a little bit. The silence that settled between them was more comfortable, the tense moment from earlier broken. Julie studied the boys in front of her. She hadn’t ever thought of them as friends per se. They knew each other, would say hi if they encountered one another outside the walls of the high school, but at the same time, they didn’t actually know each other. Julie’s little run in with Luke the night before had made that painfully obvious. She wasn’t really sure what to make of them.

“Are you guys actually serious about this whole Showcase scheme? Did Luke even tell you about his dumb plan?”

“Hey! That plan is genius. Even your dad agreed. He seems pretty cool.”

Julie couldn’t help the fond way she rolled her eyes. Alex was quick to reassure her that they did, in fact, know about the plan.

“Not that I actually think it’s a particularly well thought out plan.” He stated with a lingering glare at Luke’s back.

The planner in question did his best to ignore the skeptical look on Julie’s face.

“Julie, you really don’t deserve to be out of the music program.” Reggie’s voice was soft and sincere. “You have the voice of an angel. If we can help convinced Ms. Harrison and Principal Lessa to give you your spot back it will be so worth it. And even if we don’t, it’ll be worth the looks on their faces when we rock the pants off that crowd!”

Julie laughed in spite of herself, slightly reassured even as she chewed nervously on her lip. Luke took a few bouncy steps forward, pulling her attention to him completely. His eyes locked on hers and she was sure she was drowning, throat tightening at the look he was giving her.

“You got this. I wouldn’t have come up with this idea if I didn’t believe it 100%.”

Honestly, that was what scared her the most about it.

“We don’t even have anything prepared.”

Her voice was barely a whisper, unsteady and wavering. Luke took a few more steps towards her, Reggie and Alex ghosting along silently a few feet behind him. Julie didn’t even notice, so laser focused on the brunette boy in the cut-up tank top in front of her. She watched his muscles flex as he reached into his back pocket, flicking out a piece of folded up paper in a move scarily reminiscent of when he had given her mom’s song back to her. He bit his lip, head ducking a little to be closer to hers as he unfolded the worn sheets of scrappy notebook paper. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, focusing on the messy handwriting in front of her.

“I thought you would say that.”

The smile on his face was so soft and sweet it should have been illegal.

“It’s called ‘Bright’. It’s a Sunset Curve song that we never performed because it’s missing something. Look,” his bare shoulder brushed hers as he shifted to point at the notes, warmth seeping through the thin material of her t-shirt, “it’s perfect for your range. I was thinking, if we add a little bit of piano here and here,” fire blazed a path up her arm as his fingers traced along the opening notes and chorus, forearm flexing against her own, bare skin brushing in teasing licks, “it’ll be perfect.”

Julie forced herself to focus on what he was saying, eyes roving across the paper. She hummed a little under her breath, hearing what he described in her head. His eyes lit up when he saw her get it, feet springing up and down as he dipped even closer towards her and started to sing.

We will rise, through the night

You and I

We will fight to shine together

Bright forever

His voice vibrated in her chest, the sound filling her with an emotion she couldn’t fully identify. Alex and Reggie bobbed along behind him, Reggie’s fingers plucking out the baseline on an invisible guitar while Alex nodded along to an unseen beat. Julie could envision the way the song would sound with a complete band, could practically see herself fitting seamlessly into the mix with her piano and vocals. She couldn’t help the smile that curved her lips as she joined in, reading the lyrics off of the page.

And rise through the night,

You and I

We will fight to shine together

“Go up high.”

Luke cut in, fingers twirling towards the ceiling. Julie automatically made the adjustment in notes to harmonize her voice with his for the last line, holding the final syllable for a beat longer than him.

Bright forever

“Yes!”

Luke’s arm pumped up and down, bicep flexing and distracting Julie momentarily. She dropped her head shyly, trying to hide her blush. When her cheeks cooled a moment later she looked back up at the boy in front of her. His eyes were glowing, smile stretched a mile wide as he stared at her. Unconditional belief in her was practically oozing from his pores. She felt her face soften as their eyes locked, giving him her own sweet smile that was meant just for the two of them. She thanked him with a gentle murmur, heart melting as he simply bit his lower lip and nodded.

A throat cleared in the background, and Julie was snapped out of their private bubble by the sound. Her entire face felt engulfed in flames as she looked over Luke’s shoulder to see Alex and Reggie still standing a few paces behind him. Reggie’s face was bright, his sunshine temperament back in full force. Alex was a little more guarded, but he was giving her an encouraging smile and there was cautious optimism swimming in his sage green eyes as he fiddled with one of his drumsticks. She inhaled deeply and let her breath out in one smooth exhale. The same sort of peacefulness from the night before settled over her.

“Okay. Okay, so we’re doing this.”

Luke’s whoop was so loud both her and Alex jumped. Reggie raced forward with a cheer to sling one arm around Luke’s shoulders and the other around Julie’s, pulling them so close to his chest that their noses nearly touched. Julie saw the blush staining Luke’s cheeks and felt her own warm to match. Alex coughed again.

“Reg, c’mon. Let it settle for just a sec before you go all human octopus on the poor girl.”

“Oh, right! Sorry, Jules!!”

Reggie released both of them quickly. Julie flicked her gaze between the three boys, enjoying the glimpses at their band dynamic. Alex’s words had sounded a bit exasperated, but there was a fondness running through them as well. He gave a half-hearted roll of his eyes at Reggie’s abrupt movements and reached his own long arm out to pull the dark-haired boy close.

“Help me unload the van? I still don’t trust our little Lukey boy with my kit.”

“Hey! That was one time!”

Luke sounded downright offended. The dark look Alex leveled at him in response had Julie choking back a laugh with a badly disguised cough. Clearly once of whatever he did was enough. Luke pouted, arms flexing as they crossed over his chest.

“You put your foot through my bass drum, and you think that isn’t reason enough not to trust you with it ever again?”

Luke sputtered, eyes flicking to Julie and back to Alex as his ears reddened.

“I told you I didn’t see it!”

“It’s the biggest part of the kit, dumbass. Literally the hardest thing to miss.”

Alex’s voice was as unimpressed as it was dismissive. Luke threw his hands in the air as the other boys headed out of the studio, laughing amongst themselves. It was clear this was a regular argument between the two, no heat or anger left in it, only a loving sort of tease. Like the way Carlos still brought up that time she accidentally gave him a concussion double-bouncing him off of their neighbor’s trampoline when he wanted something from her. Or the way her Tía would still laugh as she remembered the time her mom had almost gotten them both arrested for a bar fight on her 21st birthday, Ray affectionately filling in the parts that she tried to leave out. Warmth bloomed in her chest. This wasn’t just a band, wasn’t just a ragtag trio of friends. These guys were brothers. This was a family. And they were letting her into that intimate circle.

The thought was both humbling and nerve-wracking. This Showcase was a big deal. It wasn’t just some school assignment. This could impact their future as a band career-wise. They were all trusting her with this, fully believing in her, or at least, fully believing in Luke’s faith in her abilities. She wasn’t sure anyone had ever believed in her like that. Not anyone that hadn’t known her since she was in diapers. Her head swam, knees feeling a bit weak. She stumbled her way over to the couch, collapsing onto it with a barely audible huff. Luke was in front of her instantly, crouched down so they were face to face. His hands twitched in his lap, but he didn’t reach for her.

“Hey. Julie. Breathe.”

She sucked in a breath, zeroing in on nothing more than his face. After a few seconds she realized he was breathing in and out slowly, just loud enough for her to hear over the jumble of thoughts running amok in her brain. She matched her own inhales and exhales to his, the room slowly coming back into focus as her head cleared. He gave her one of those soft smiles she was starting to think of as hers.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. But I wouldn’t have stopped you in school if I didn’t think you were gonna rock it. I heard you last night. I listened to you for years before last night.”

His chin dropped in embarrassment for just a second before he pulled his gaze back up to hers. Julie felt like she was on the edge of a cliff. Not for the first time she wished she knew how long this version of Luke had been lurking under the surface. It took everything in her not to let herself step off that ledge and fall.

“Music is in your soul. It’s a part of you. Not everyone is like that, but you are. Your life without music...”

He tapered off like the thought was physically painful to him, eyebrows furrowing in a slight wince.

“Living without music would be like living in a world without stars: dark and empty and uninspired. You deserve galaxies, Julie. You deserve the chance to shine exactly like the star you are, and the world deserves the chance to hear you. Please, just...have a little faith?”

She saw it then. As he gazed at her with those bottomless ocean eyes, with that special smile on his lips and sincerity bleeding through every word, she knew. Luke was like her. Luke got it. In a way that no one else except her mom ever had. That’s what this was. They were kindred spirits, two sides of the same coin. And that feeling? The wind rushing through her hair and stealing her breath away while her limbs all turned to jelly feeling? That was definitely her falling head over heels off of the cliff and into Luke Patterson completely.

“Okay.”

She breathed out, and his answering smile set off the butterflies she thought had finally left her stomach. He stood up and held a hand out to her, easily pulling her to her feet in one smooth movement.

“You know,” his smile turned rueful, “eventually you’re gonna have to answer one of my questions with something other than ‘okay’. That’s a pretty passive word, and I’m not really a passive type of person. I wanna start hearing some ‘hell yeah’s and ‘awesome’s pretty soon.”

Julie rolled her eyes, moving away from Luke to set up her keyboard. He gave her a bouncy little shrug of his shoulders, and she let the levity of his joke wash over her, releasing the last bit of nerves. She could do this. Luke believed in her. Her mom believed in her. Hell, Alex and Reggie believed in her and she barely even knew them. She could do this, just like her mom had said.

Noise from the other boys making their way up the driveway had her rushing to pull both doors to the studio open so they could haul in Alex’s drum kit. The three of them left together to grab amps and guitars, Julie finishing the rest of the set up in the garage. Before she had time to overthink things or freak out again, they were all settled into their spots and Alex was counting down for their first run through. Fingers against the keys, Julie breathed out, opened her mouth, and began to play.

[cdt12345]

I just finished answering one of these and now I wanna know yours. Top 10 straight OTPs?

1.) Ben and Leslie - Parks and Recreation

If this was my OTPs list, they’d be second after Gallavich, but since this is straight couples, they have to be my number one. Amy Poehler and Adam Scott had great chemistry. Adam Scott played a lot of creepy/bad guys before this. So, when he showed up in Pawnee, I didn’t know what to make of him when he came in at the end of season 2. Pretty quickly I realized I was not only going to love the character of Ben Wyatt but we finally found Leslie Knope’s perfect match! I’ll never forget the moment I knew I was going to ship them. It was at the Freddy Spaghetti concert when Ben helped Leslie after he was against doing the concert in the first place. As soon as I saw Ben give Leslie that look as she walked away, I knew I was all in with this ship. That’s all it took! Leslie finally met someone who got her, admired her, was in awe of her, and was so supportive of her and her ambitions. They were both willing to put their jobs at risk by making their relationship known. And if you know Leslie Knope, her job is her life. Leslie’s love for Ben’s butt is also something I loved. Their love for each other is so beautiful and one of my favorite things about this amazing show.

2.) Ava and Boyd - Justified

Joelle Carter and Walton Goggins did amazing work together onscreen. Ava and Boyd Crowder did not have the most conventional start to their romantic relationship, seeing as Ava was married to Boyd’s brother. For me, that is a deal-breaker! I know they’re not blood relatives but it’s still weird to me when in-laws get together. In the pilot, we learn Ava has just killed her husband in self-defense and Boyd was supposed to be killed off in that episode. The powers that be, loved both Joelle and Walton so much they brought them back for more and they were series regulars for the rest of the series run. To keep Ava part of the storyline, they had Boyd staying at Ava’s house in season 2. It all evolved from there. I had no intention of shipping these two during season 1, but by season 2, I was all about Ava and Boyd getting together. They were the true definition of a power couple. They even had matching bullet scares on their chest! They stood side by side as a strong force against anyone who tried to overpower them or intimidate them in their growing criminal enterprise. Boyd really saw Ava, treated her with respect, and saw her as his equal. They had a long history, even went to the same high school together. I always love a couple who has known each other since they were kids. I never thought I would root for current or former in-laws, but it was hard not to fall in love with them.

3.) Jess and Nick - New Girl

I knew I was going to ship them from the very first episode. They are everything I love in a good ship, complete opposites who bring out the best in each other, who are also friends. Over the years, any time Jess would describe her perfect man, she was always describing Nick without realizing it. Once she was asked what her dream guy would be, and she said Walter Matthau in Grumpy Old Men and Nick fits that perfectly. He really is like a grumpy old man. There was nothing these two wouldn’t do for each other. One example of this was when Jess burns her finger on a cigarette lighter in the car and Nick puts his finger in the cigarette lighter so they would be in the same amount of pain. Who even does that?! I was so happy when they finally had their first kiss and when they officially got together. Those are some of my favorite episodes when they were finally dating. Any time they dated anyone else it became even more clear how much better they are together. They never fit with anyone else as well as they fit together. They really were perfect for each other.

4.) Corey and Topanga - Boy Meets World

Corey and Topanga are the OG’s of childhood sweethearts on TV. They’ve known each other their whole lives and were very believable in their genuine love for each other. It’s not always easy to believe that people who get married that young can make it work, but these two always seemed to defy those odds. They got married during their sophomore year of college. Today I would be like whoa that’s too soon to get married! But they felt so right together, I believe I would still think they made the right choice. I may be biased because I grew up watching this show and I was even younger than them at that time, but it always felt like they were meant to be. I still remember what a big deal their wedding was. My friends and I were so excited about that episode. They clearly did do the right thing because the show came back as Girl Meets World, which was more focused on their daughter than them, so of course, I wasn’t planning on watching all that. The only good thing to come out of that reboot, for me, was to get confirmation that Corey and Topanga were still together and had two kids. 

5.) Arnold and Helga - Hey Arnold!

This was a very one-sided crush on Helga’s part for years! This was another show I grew up on. I shipped them so hard because Helga was obsessively in love with Arnold. It definitely wasn’t a healthy obsession, but she really loved him. It was hard not to root for her. She fell in love with him when he was the first to notice her and be nice to her on their first day of preschool. A part of me could identify with her at that time in my life. I was in 5th grade and was experiencing my first love too. She was always so mean to Arnold because she was terrified for anyone to even suspect she had a major crush on him. The best way to describe Arnold is through Helga’s own words, he’s “a funny little football-headed kid with a good heart but no sense of reality”. Helga was realistic and tough but very poetic and sweet in private. In 2017, when Hey Arnold! The Jungle Movie came out, I was really hoping she would finally come clean with Arnold about her feelings. It FINALLY happened! That was 21 years in the making. Talk about slow burn!

6.) Tiffani and Jake - California Dreams

Jake and Tiffani are one of my very first ships ever. They were high school students who were in a band called California Dreams together. They were like night and day. She was the surfer type, who was positive, sunny, and friendly. Whereas Jake was a biker type who scared everyone. They were even too scared to let him audition for the band. He played guitar and would sometimes sing and write some of their songs. He wasn’t the main singer of the band, but he would sing every once in a while. She played the bass and would sometimes sing too. They did have a breakup that was heartbreaking for me. He dated their friend Lorena for a short time, and it felt so forced and didn’t work at all. Again, I could be biased because I love Jake and Tiffani, but Jake himself and Lorena realized they didn’t work either. That’s when Jake realized he was still very much in love with Tiffani, and they got back together. This show also had the best theme song ever! I sing it every single time I hear it and when I do hear it, it’s stuck in my head all day.

7.) Monica and Chandler - Friends

I always preferred Monica and Chandler over Ross and Rachel. They were never on and off like Ross and Rachel, which would get tiresome. We never had to deal with that with Monica and Chandler. Obviously, they are friends and know each other so well that it was easy for them to get through anything because of it.

8.) Castle and Beckett - Castle

Richard Castle and Kate Beckett had amazing chemistry, even after the actors themselves were no longer getting along behind the scenes. I am amazed at how they were still able to be so believable at being very much in love with each other. Castle, a best-selling mystery novelist, and Beckett, a New York City homicide detective. Castle is inspired by Beckett and she becomes his muse for a new book he is writing. Castle uses his connections with the mayor to force the police to let him shadow Beckett. Their personalities clash in the beginning but they soon find their groove and become friends and great partners at solving crimes. The will they, won’t they was excruciating at times but paid off when they finally got together.

9.) Sabrina and Harvey - Sabrina The Teenage Witch

Sabrina and Harvey were such a cute couple. I already went into this show knowing they were meant to be because of the Sabrina comic books. Harvey was always the boyfriend. So, when Harvey left the show after season 4, I was surprised and saddened. Especially, since Harvey had finally learned about her powers. He did guest star in season 5 but was brought back for the last two seasons. I really loved when he came back because Sabrina and Harvey’s relationship was so much better after he knew about her powers. They didn’t get back together and were only friends but whenever things got complicated, he was there to help her now that he knew she was a witch. She didn’t have to hide who she really was or lie to him anymore and I really loved how that changed their relationship. Sabrina was dating someone else at this time and was going to marry this other guy, but she doesn’t go through with it. For once I can actually say Sabrina and Harvey are soulmates and really mean it! Remember she is a witch and has a soul stone and Harvey was given one too. Harvey is waiting for Sabrina outside the church when she comes out and they kiss. Their soul stones drop to the ground and fit perfectly at 12:36pm, the exact time they first met seven years ago.Then they drive off together in his motorcycle.

10.) Kelly and Zack - Saved by The Bell

Who didn’t grow up in the 90′s and wasn’t shipping Zack and Kelly? I thought they were the most gorgeous couple I had ever seen. Saved by The Bell: The College Years wasn’t a great show, but I was happy to see Zack and Kelly went to the same college, and eventually, we got to see them get married in a TV movie with Saved by The Bell: Wedding in Las Vegas.

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Motion Sickness Chapter 87

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"You transformed the needle, then." Oscar paced around towards me and examined my work. "I thought you had some of my magic working for you. It's good to have proof."

He picked up the metallic feather and examined the blade the hairs formed closely. It had a hole on its spine where the head of the needle had been and the spine was sharp at the other end like the point of the needle had been. Even I knew that it was sloppy work. But it was something.

"What is magic?" I asked. "Is it all lightning and wind like the maidens? Or is it transfiguring stuff and moving energies around? I don't understand," I said.

"Yes well, perhaps invariably it varies person to person. Even the maiden's powers. After all, no two seasons are exactly alike. I suspect your ability to fly comes from your magic rather than your semblance."

"My ability to fly?" I breathed. "I guess. I mean it started out being something I could only do when my semblance was active. It also used to be just a glide rather than real flight, too."

I could now really fly. I could gain and lose height at will once I got up to speed. Taking off like a jet in many regards. And the power made me fast, too. Not as fast as Ruby while she was mid petal burst but still quite fast.

"Practice makes perfect, Mr. Strife. It seems separate from your semblance in many other ways, no? It's something you have access to all the time rather than just when your semblance is active." Ozpin informed me of his thoughts on the subject. "Your strength too, and maybe your speed might be manifestations of magic rather than just your aura. You've grown very powerful in a short period of time through this sort of practice," Ozpin lectured. "I would be surprised if your magic continues to be like mine. Look at this feather, you didn't manage to transform the material. Your transfiguration seems weak. Your powers are different. Unique to you."

"So my magic is going to be different from yours, for sure. It's got a different basis. It comes out differently because of that. Limit Breaker just helps my progress along the way because that's how Limit Breaker works. It makes me better. Including my magic. I even sometimes wonder if Limit Breaker makes me smarter too, while it's active."

"Indeed, your magic seems combat oriented. Mine has other subtle applications, like allowing me to move the maiden powers around. Like transfiguration and sometimes like flight as well."

"Anything I can do you can do better?" I asked.

"Perhaps not. Flight only manifests in some of my reincarnations. Each one of my bodies is different much like the maidens. Very rarely do I gain extreme speed or super strength like you possess. Indeed that is the same for the maidens," he went on. "The powers of the maidens usually coordinate with the powers of the elements. As you probably well noted. And sometimes they gain the power of flight as well."

"Cinder can fly," I agreed. "But each one is different. Some of them gain super strength or other powers," I said, understanding.

"At times. Magic is incredibly singular and unique to the user. It is not unlike a semblance in that regard. Perhaps invariably. I suspect some of your magical powers are hiding under your semblance. Limit Breaker seems far too powerful to be merely a semblance at times. If it is, it's an exceptionally powerful one."

"But will I be able to summon fire and lightning without dust? Will I be able to cast destructive spells?"

"I don't know. Will you?" Ozpin asked back. He seemed to be genuinely asking what I thought.

I shook my head minutely after a pause. "Probably not. At least I don't feel that way about it. Maybe destructive spells like my Limit Break attacks, like blade-beam. But probably not casting spells like Cinder was able to without dust. But that hardly matters, I've got dust for that kind of thing when I need it. It's… always been relatively easy for me. Using dust in its raw form, that is, anyways."

"Yes." Ozpin tapped his cane against the ground twice. "While magic is mostly a matter of one's own opinion you have shown little promise in this regard. Much like your transfiguration seems weak. That's no true fault of your own, however," Ozpin clarified for me. "Practice makes perfect but we all have particular talents. It would be wise for you to play into your strengths while bewaring your weaknesses. Follow your semblance, do you really have aura or just magic? If so, what feels truly different from aura and what does not? Does flight? Does your immense strength? Does your speed?"

"They could all blend together, too. I might not even have aura in a traditional sense at all. Maybe my powers mimic it," I realized.

"There is also mind magic. Something you will have no choice but to excel at if you wish to resist Salem's influence over your thoughts. Focus on clearing your mind and maintaining your walls against her. Practice shall make you strong."

"I need to learn more," I murmured from where I sat while Ozpin paced around me. "About dust and about myself."

"A wise conclusion," Ozpin encouraged. "Do go on."

"I need to learn how to eat dust. And my blade-beam. That could be magic. Or it could be aura. It's hard to tell, it could even be both. It always came out differently than Qrow's but is that because we have different aura or because I have magic? It's hard to tell. Maybe even impossible to tell. But that could be the point."

"Now I see you understand."

"And that could be why my sessions with Weiss and Ruby are helping me. Focusing on clearing my thoughts helped me with my transfiguration. They all play into each other."

"Precisely. Now do you have any other questions for me?"

"Yes. It's about my sisters. If they have magic too, aren't we outnumbered?"

"Quality of quantity, Mr Strife," Ozpin murmured. "And we shall have the maidens eventually. Or at least we plan to. Plus there are dear Ms. Rose's eyes. All is not lost. Did they fight you with magic?"

"They fought with things like my semblance so that's a hard maybe."

"Then we shall be wary of them. Is that all?"

I nodded.

"Practice, then. Strengthen your mind, I have confidence in you, Mr. Strife."

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Dust eating hurt.

It was a physical process which changed your soul into being more in tune with a particular element or even elements, plural. It brings something out from inside your deepest reaches from this external event. Dust eating reached everywhere inside you and changed that.

It wasn't comfortable.

That was why Hazel's pain numbing semblance worked well with it. Not that being numb to pain was a particularly good thing all the time. Pain was important to give the human mind context. It let you know how much danger you were in. I didn't underestimate it's value. Pain wasn't a weakness and I wasn't about to start criticizing the nervous system in all of its complexity.  

And eating dust was dangerous. It could kill you. It could stop your heart. There was a lot of energy that flowed into you when you ate dust. A lot. That's another reason that it hurt. All that power coursing through you. It could burn you up as well as it was changing you.

You see, when you eat dust the answer to question 'what am I' became at least in part that element. 'Who am I?' Eat a little fire dust and the answer becomes partly fire.

I charged my semblance to full in the training room and stretched myself out a bit. I needed to be relaxed before I tried this. I'd read a little about how to manage eating dust on my scroll but nothing could really prepare you for the real thing. And the thing was that the real thing could kill you. Some people only ever tried it once for one reason or another.

I pulled a fire crystal from my pocket and let the blue flames of my semblance lick at my body. Then I took the crystal and shoved it into my skin above the collar.

It slid into my body without resistance. It sort of plopped into me. Then I changed and the energy coursed through my body. The blue flames of my body turned violet, then red. The exact hue of that exact crystal. It didn't help that no two dust crystals were exactly alike. That made this process a little different for each and every crystal.

My aura changed color and texture. The answer to the question changed and I became fire. Me. Not my body or my mind but who I was even beyond that. My soul became fire. I felt hot, really really hot.

It hurt enough that my body bent. I fell to my knees with a gasp. Fire coursed through my veins. My blood felt molten. My heart beat and my head threatened to burn up. Of course that was metaphorically true. But it was also literally threatening to burn me up.

I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth. In through the nose and out through the mouth. My vision came back from swimming steadily and though it still hurt I was able to function.

I let the power flow down into my arms and cast it forward with a Limit Break blade-beam through my sword. I used my sword as my magic wand for this little spell and sent it out. The beam wasn't blue this time. It was a crimson colored wreath of flames that coursed forward. It dashed forward and then where it met a target, just a practice dummy, it exploded.

The force of it sucked the air from my lungs. And though I was made of fire I could feel the heat of it. It wasn't uncomfortable like it might otherwise have been because I was made of the fire still. My aura, where it might have usually been golden was still crimson with the power of the dust crystal. I hadn't used all of the energy of the crystal yet.

That was the other thing about eating dust. It lasted as long as it lasted. And it didn't come with a timer either, maybe I'd get a feel for that eventually but for now I had no idea how long it would last. You were committed to the change until it was over. Until it released you. I swung my sword and it was wreathed with flames as I swung it.

I mimed fighting and shadow boxed against no target.

I let out two wide horizontal slashes with my sword covered with flames. I cast a hand forward and a fireball followed and splashed against one of the walls. I could feel the flames inside of me. And it wasn't killing me yet so I took that as a good sign. Even though it did hurt. It burned at my insides.

I charged my semblance to full, standing still in the training room until it was activated and flared with crimson light instead of the deep blue. Flames still licked at me but rather than just being light like normal instead it was hot. I was actually on fire. I could just scarcely feel it though. It just felt warm where real flames roared. I was at the center of an inferno. I was a walking, talking, explosion.  

I stepped closer to a dummy and my presence with the flames was enough to start dealing damage to it. I'd be a menace to fight while this was active. I'd be burning up my enemy by just being close. This was how my aura reacted to being partly fire. It was as unique to me as my semblance was.

I wanted to try it with lightning next. And then I'd probably leave it at that. I didn't need to know how my aura reacted to being partly ice or gravity. I didn't need to take the risk. Why bother? When I had fire and lightning and it wasn't like wind would suddenly give me the ability to fly. So why take any more risk than I needed to? I didn't have all the time in the world to train. I needed to pick one or two and get good at those. Or at least good enough to use in a real fight.

I just didn't have the time to practice every single one. Every single combination that was. And with every chance I took came the opportunity for me to kill myself with it. If I mixed fire and lightning, for example, what would happen to me? It could just kill me. And over training. Of all the things in my life to fucking kill me, I refused for it to be over training.

Some things I didn't really need the answer to. Yeah I might try it once at some point in safety but I'd never practice it enough that I'd feel good doing it in a real fight. Not like I would with fire and lightning if I practiced them enough.

I leapt forward and flew. I glid up to a training robot and Cross-Slashed it. My sword melted through the machine as much as I tore into it. My presence began to dissolve it as I hovered before it and sliced.

Plus there was only so much pay off I'd get from adding a little more dust to my body. My return on investment would diminish, and quickly, with more crystals. It was probably logarithmic.

Mixing and matching would be fine if my body could take it but that was a big if. So why bother? Just practicing with a couple and getting good with those would serve me better than having a dozen options I was worse at and that might kill me in a real fight. That was the thing about this. It could kill me. Just as much as it could kill my enemies it could get me too. So it was better to practice one kick a hundred times rather than a hundred kicks once.

At least I thought so. I felt the fire wear off and my aura returned to its normal golden hue. It wasn't perfect and there were still traces of the flames inside of me.

I waited until I was confident most of the fire was gone. All bust a few specks. The last bits of it dissolving into me and burning away. Then I took the next crystal into my body. An electric crystal of deep yellow. My body flared from it and I could taste ozone as I slid the crystal into my body.

My aura turned yellow from it's golden color. I could feel the wattage over my tongue and behind my eyes. I swept a normal blade-beam forward and it was a crackling vertical wave of lightning that came out of the tip of my blade.

Then I charged my semblance to full. A lightning storm surrounded me. I flew forward and the motion felt like a jolt. I flew up to a training machine and lighting just poured from my body and wreathed the machine. Tendrils of electricity followed my blade as I cut into it. Tongues of lightning carved trenches in the metal of the robot.

Then I swept my Limit Break blade-beam through and at a training Atlas robot. It became trapped in a miniature lightning storm that harassed it and destroyed it.

I was starting to feel exhauston now from three different Limit Breaks but I felt strength enough for one more. I charged it to full one last time and tried a lightning coursed Octa slash on one of the training robots. I destroyed it completely and slumped to the side. My aura was still coursing with lightning. I waited for the tingling to die down and for my aura to return to normal and I panted hard.

The Limit Breaks took energy from me. They weren't free. Then there was a bit of exertion from the dust itself. To keep myself together and not fall apart due to the energy coursing through me wasn't easy. I figured with more practice I'd be able to manage it in a real fight, though.

For now I wasn't at that point. And the power could still kill me. Pain was there to alert you that something was wrong . And the pain I felt when I absorbed dust like this wasn't a miscommunication per se. It could get me.

I leaned against a wall and breathed hard. Still, I thought I'd be able to make one of those two work in a real fight.

I slumped down with my sword leaning against the wall over my head in the broadsword form. I was tired. My body couldn't keep training, even if I wanted to. It had been a while since I'd felt like that. Not since I'd gotten the new sword.

I examined the weapon. Particularly where Pyrrha's weapons and armor had been forged into it.

Pyrrha…

Would we be together now if she hadn't died? I did miss her but I wouldn't want to trade away what I had now. I was a different person than I would have been if she hadn't died. The question wasn't fair. For either of us.

I ran a hand through my hair. I was pretty content with my current setup. I didn't need to ruin it by looking for reasons to do so.

I sighed. I felt a little lighter.

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-WG