#they both know the pain and frustration of not being able to perfectly execute their vision and passion and dream ow ow ow

[kroosluvr]

sumi and yusuke work together to combat his art block & her gymnastics slump

[arooomofmyown]

man.. so many years being completely obsessed with succession and now it’s over. I cannot even tell you how I felt yesterday. Just so weird and sad and frustrated, it’s kinda over. I get this anxious feeling sometimes where my heart is heavy and beating fast and I can feel every breath and a need to cry but not being able to fills me up. It was there the whole day after I watched it. And.. I couldn’t sleep the whole night before the finale out of trepidation and excitement. I did not read the transcript but saw the spoilers from it and when i heard that first sentence on the show (i kept a screenshot of the first sentence so that i’d know if it was gonna end the way it did in the leak) I cried. And I cried a lot of times during, this whole feeling of ending looms so large in this episode. of doom and horror. and now I’m onboard with the ending and think it perfectly devastating. the execution matters. every single thing that led to it mattered. it wasn’t like they changed the script on us or tried to one up anyone. it just.. this really is it. even if it feels so fucking bleak. i haven’t gotten over a lot of tragic endings and i think it’ll always be an open wound but it’ll be okay(for me) in time. Nothing changed. Kendall’s reckoning came and he lost and he lost. And Shiv and Roman won’t be particularly happy either and they will all bleed and resent and be codependent and not really have anything real in their lives apart from their (mostly shared) traumas and pains and choices. The family legacy as the company did a lot of damage and will continue to do so in someone else’s hands, the machine could never be stopped. The real family legacy is the harm that was inflicted on them and that they inflicted. Getting out of the family firm even after losing so much... it’s both an indictment and a mercy. They are free. In whatever twisted, meaningless way it may be. 

[sophiapathic]

Sk8: The Infinity - A Take on Love

Because my six unfinished assignments can wait until I throw this into the void, scream for five hours and after my voice gets hoarse, I resort to watching the beach episode on loop until next Saturday.

This was entirely sparked by the recap episode, which really pressed the reak havoc and theorize button in my brain. I am truly losing my grip on reality. Help. I apologize in advance, creatures of Tumblr. 

Me right now:

Anyways... 

I saw people mention here and there screaming that “we need canon relationships and they will get trust issues if a romance isn’t confirmed by the end of the series”. I think that mindset is harmful to have in this case. You can’t really avoid being disappointed if you get into the series expecting it to deliver on your wishes of gay romances. So, this might be controversial, but stay with me please. The anime and manga are both confirmed to be based primarily about the characters themselves and of course the sport -skating. I was hoping to take a closer look at what the series intends to do with certain dynamics and relationships according to yours truly. I also want explain my reasoning behind it not being queerbaiting, though it being inherently queer-coded, through the current lense of the canon.

Sk8: The Infinity is unquestionably a love story.

We need to state the genres this series is in, because some of us tend to forget. It is in fact not a shounen-ai, not a yaoi, not a romance, not even a josei. Say it with me it is a series in: COMEDY and SPORTS.

(Source is the official US Sk8 website.) The spotlight is udoubtedly on skating and what it means. Another important highlight of the show is how the definition of the sport relates to the characters, and how vastly different they are from what we expect. For example, when we see Shadow first, we pigeonhole him into this vulgar indecent rock and roll persona, only to find out later that he is actually a stweetheart at a flower shop. Joe is another very good case study. When we first see him we think of him as a womanizer muscle-head, later we find out he has a heart of gold and is very emotionally intelligent. We’re also quick to judge Miya as the cold, unfeeling prodigy then we discover how lonely and normal he is on the inside. And so on and so on. 

The show continues to defy our expectations of what each character should be like. In a way it is about breaking the conventional stereotypical roles we subconsciously assign to certain looks. We see that even in anime, multifaceted characters can exist without distrupting or damaging the delicate dynamics of a traditional sports anime. We successfully established the second focal point of the series as disproving stereotypes and presenting strong, diverse and unexpected personalities.

How about the defition of skating? What does it mean in the context of Sk8: The Infinity then? Where does a love story come into the picture? Skating is repeatedly described as a ritual of love within the anime, an idea that our villian, Ad*m, is obessed with. In a sense skating is a language of love canonically.

Then skating itself is love. Throughout the series we see varied styles of skating therefore different ways of expressing love, affection. We get to experience several metaphorical ways of “being in love” through characters skating with each other. Each dynamic shows us a type of love. Healthy, disfunctional, outright abusive. 

The way Reiki teaches Langa to skate can be interpreted as a direct metaphor for someone learning to love again after losing a person close to them. Langa’s father has died and Reiki literally brings him out of his shell again. It can also be interpreted as a queer kid’s experience of a world of romance that feels similar to his previous one, that being snowboarding, yet it still being new and different. Skateboarding. When due to Reiki Langa’s potential is discovered and his hunger for more and more develops, especially next to Ad*m, Reiki’s main frustration stems from them not being well-matched or on equal footing anymore. He feels like he cannot give Langa what he needs anymore. Which would obviously go againts the literal description of a healthy romance. Two people with mutual respect who both bring equal assets to the table. He feels like he needs to catch-up to be with Langa again. The only thing he doesn’t consider is Langa’s deep appreciation of him and the fact that literally he was the one who helped Langa experince the feeling of love again.

Kojiro and Kaoru’s relationships, to me, is very much representative of two people  wanting to be in each other’s presence, but due to their different language of love, miscommunicating horribly. Them bantering and insulting each other is the only way they know what to do with the other. The only way they can ensure the other’s attention and eyes are on them. This has worked so far. They are literal opposites, but both have a very clear definition of their form of love. To Joe skating, or love itself, is about the feeling and going with the flow. Being spontaneous. Whereas for Cherry, every move needs to be calculated and executed perfectly in order to be “efficient”. Their frustration comes from both wanting different things from the other, but not communicating their need properly. Despite this, they stick together due to a magnetic pull they obviously feel towards the other. The attraction is there, the trust is there, they are even well-matched in skill as we see them neck-to-neck constantly. They could give each other what the other wants. Only if they could express themselves well... This is why Joe pushes Reiki towards reconciling with Langa. he wants them to not fall into the same trap of not stating their  needs and thoughts properly.

Now Ad*m and Langa are obviously problematic and I don’t really want to have to explain, honestly guys. I really don’t  (since I have trauma regarding this subject), but I need to go into this a little bit. This is a textbook toxic predatory relationship. Where the older, twisted, damaged person, has an obsession with a young, outstading child. He wants to lead him into “Paradise” and show his “Eve” what love is really about. (Ain’t that disgusting you guys...) His form of love is inflicting pain, so I really can’t imagine a scenario where he and his “Eve” live happily ever after and everything is fine and dandy. He needs someone who he can torture. He literally is looking for someone who can handle his way of expressing affection, his “love hug”, who has the same type of crazy eyes for adrenaline and danger. His Eve. In his distorted mind, this all makes sense and Langa is that someone he was looking for thoughout the years. The problem is, he disregards Langa’s side where the relationship becomes problematic.

Cherry and Ad*m during their younger years seems to be a very innocent infatuation on Kaoru’s end. It is a one-sided relationship where someone is in love with the idea of a person long gone. They were discovering the world of skating, or the world of love together with Ad*m taking the lead. Cherry immediately became infatuated with him, wanted to learn his love language, wanted to be at the same level he was. It probably started very innocent. At first, Ad*m being gentle, because that’s how Tadashi was with him too, then after whatever happened between those two, Ad*m, disappointed in the way of love, or skating, Tadashi showed him, returned to what his aunts taught him. Maybe after injuring Kaoru with the “love hug”, therefore eliminating him from being his potential partner, started looking for his “Eve”, gradually became more agressive in love as in skating. Kaoru was distraught and wanted the Ad*m he originally learned love from back. Holding out some hope even years after. Trained to get used to his “love hug”, to literally condition himself to be able to get close to him. Ad*m, however showed Cherry brutally that he truly cannot handle his way of love.

Ad*m and Tadashi. *sighs* As of this post, I don’t really have enough information to give you a good overview of what I see this relationship representing. As far as I can tell Ad*m was abused horribly and to ease the pain and make him forget, Tadashi showed his another way of expressing affection. Skating or love. Basically a first love gone horrible bad, scarring an already abused child and turning them into a monster. Tadashi himself reinstates this during one of the episodes. It was his fault that Ad*m turned out the way he did. Their love slowly became strongly abusive throughout the years. Tadashi is stuck in it because he feels like he deserves it. This is a metaphor for  dangers of an emotionally and physically abusive relationship, where one person feels responsible and the other is using power. Tadashi’s guilt keeps him next to his master and he even endures abuse, now he is trying to break out and show Ad*m he messed up and I think this could potentially be a good representation of how difficult that process truly is. 

As far as Reiki’s, Miya’s, Shadow’s skating goes. Their main arc relating to love is first and foremost learning to accept themselves and aprecciating their uniqe way and style of skating. Only after can they become people who can truly be accomplished in love/skating (in Miya’s case I’m obviously talking about platonic feelings). Each of them had a preconception of their persona in love/skating, which gets questioned heavily throughout the series. Miya gets defeated, Shadow’s soft side gets discovered, Reiki... well. I get sad. :c Even though he taught someone to love again, to appreciate life again, he ended up discovering how dissatisfied he truly is with himself... These three all need to learn to love every aspect of themselves to reach fulfillment and to really experience healthy human relationships.

Sk8: The Infinity is unquestionably a love story, without explicitly being a romance, meaning that it is a tale about love, both romantic, platonic and everything inbetween through a queer-coded lens, showing both dysfunctional, abusive and healthy relationships, ways to express emotions and even delves into self-love and the idea of nature versus nurture in the villian’s case.

That is why I, personally don’t scream for a canon couple. To me, the show gets its main point about affection and love across, without making any of these relationships explicitly stated. Not to mention that it does justice to both of its assigned genres. Comedy and Sports as well. Yeah sure, I wouldn’t complain, but I think these dynamics are more than satisfying to watch, and much deeper than bishounens wanting to bang each other, which is, in my opinion, inherently sexualized. If they want, yeah they can confirm, make it canon without forcing it to be a center storyline. Hell, I would even be happy about it. I would clap with all of us. BUT, as the series currently is, I really see it taking the other route because of the above. This way audiences who want a yaoi or ikemen going at it, won’t be disappointed with the series when they find doesn’t revolve around that, straight viewers will just find it flamboyant, and people who look for subtext and want to read between the lines will certainly do that with the amount of crumbs and hints the writers gave us. 

We don’t need outright, written in black and white gay representation in Sk8 to experience very real types of love. The queer theme is secondary to me, just like queerness is, in most people’s lives. Yeah sure, it is a big thing, but not the only attribute a person has. My life doesn’t revolve around my queerness. I rarely talk about it. If I was a main character this would be a side-arc. Just like Sk8 doesn’t revolve around the characters coming out. It’s just them living their lives and possibly being queer while doing so. If you look at it this way, it is almost normalizing attraction between same-sex people by just showing it as regular love. If you can, why not interpret it this way, so it can be a liberating experience instead of a disappointing one.

Please don’t attack me! I am fragile and this is only my opinion. c:  *crawls back into her hole*

[jaeminzie]

opposites attract | l.jn

↳ lee jeno x gender neutral!reader

synopsis: soulmate!au where if your soulmate is listening to music then it’ll be stuck in your head until they stop listening to it. in this case, you and jeno have contrasting music tastes.

genre: fluff

word count: 2,503

warnings: slight mentions of vaping

a/n: also let’s pretend that jeno is at the age to be a freshman in college in this fic lmao

being a freshman in college, the workload was something jeno wasn’t used to so he chooses to deal with it in procrastination. well, tonight is the last day to turn in majority of his assignments that he’s been holding off on. so far, he’s gotten four papers turned in and he’s currently executing all his energy to finish his last paper of the night. though he’s too frustrated at the fact that his soulmate hasn’t stopped listening to music.

see, it started off alright. at the beginning of the night, the music was mellow and perfect for studying but, approximately two hours ago, the music changed to heavy emo music (which jeno loathed) and it’s been playing nonstop since then. now he’s left with one paper but he can’t seem to type as his fingers were too occupied on gripping his soft hair in frustration.

on the other hand, you were currently laying inside your dry bathtub peacefully listening to your tunes with your body relaxed and eyes closed, humming along to the music. apparently, this was the best way to past time that you could think of without interacting with anyone. your airpods were too loud to hear your sister banging on the door telling you to get out so she could shower. so you stayed there, bopping your head but abruptly jolted when louder music blared through your head interrupting your own little music sesh.

Shut up, just shut up, shut up

Shut up, just shut up, shut up

Shut up, just shut up, shut up

Shut up, just shut up, shut up

is that... is that black eyed peas? you paused your music to listen a bit clearer. but a couple seconds after you paused it, the music coming from your soulmate stopped as well. shrugging, you pressed play on your phone and continued listening to your own music in oblivion.

leaving jeno collapsing on his bed in defeat.

—

the following week, you were cruising around the town just so you can be out of the house. again, you were blasting your hardcore music which left jeno, who is currently on his nightly run to destress from his college student struggles, wondering if you never not listen to music. he’d think he’d be used to his soulmate’s music taste by now but he can’t help but worry over your differences in music. you’re also on the same boat. countless nights of you ranting about your soulmate’s hetero taste of music to your group chat whenever he’d listen to justin bieber and you’d be forced to listen to him as well. of course, your kind friends would clown you making you feel worse but they’ve been trying to convince you that music taste shouldn’t be a problem. but to you, it is. and apparently to jeno, it is as well.

jeno sighed in relief when he heard the music stop in his head. he halted his running to give himself a break and entered the nearest store to buy himself a bottle of water since he stupidly forgot to bring one with him.

the bells chimed when someone entered the store but you paid no attention to it as you were too focused on picking what flavor you wanted. though, you anxiously picked the first one you saw when you noticed you were taking too long and the person standing behind you was tapping their foot, running out of patience. you hurriedly paid for the item feeling bad for holding up the line. you kept your head lowered but you managed to get a glimpse of the person who was waiting behind you. you only saw his grey sweatpants and the imprint of his muscular arms behind his baggy white shirt. and damn, you froze in your footsteps and had to take a double look of his figure when you were fully behind him so he couldn’t see you shamelessly checking him out.

you stood there timidly as you clutched your puffbar in disbelief, not knowing how to act when you’re experiencing the presence of this beautiful stranger. you looked at him from top to bottom, trying to memorize the view of his back since you knew you’ll never see him again because you felt too coy to go up to him and make a move.

“goddamn,” you whispered under your breath and dragged yourself out of the 7/11 before the boy finishes paying. you were sulking during the quick walk to your car, and immediately opened your puffbar and took a hit once you were seated inside. resting your head on the steering wheel and letting the fruity flavored smoke seep out of your mouth, you reached your hand to the volume control and cranked it up in an attempt to distract yourself.

you looked up and tried to peep through the windows to get another glance of the pretty boy. he turned around almost immediately when you found his figure, but thankfully he didn’t see you slyly peeking at him with your phone in your hands. your fingers rapidly typed away, informing your group chat that you’re currently seeing the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen. you examined his face with heart eyes from afar trying to engrave the image of his face with every single dot and line in your mind so you can remember it tomorrow and the day after, but you furrowed your eyebrows when you noticed the annoyed expression plastered onto his face that didn’t seem to leave, or even lessen slightly. sitting lowly in the driver’s seat and throwing your phone in the backseat, you still kept an eye on the boy but made sure you weren’t obvious at all. you watched him walk outside of the store, fascinated by the way he walked with so much confidence and grace.

but the second he stepped onto the cement and into the warm outdoor air, he abruptly stopped his movements.

did the music just get louder? jeno thought to himself, he skimmed through the gas station and the parking lot to find the source of the loud music. you immediately made yourself look busy as if you weren’t just watching every single movement of his body and admiring every crevice of his face a couple seconds ago.

you began to panic when he kept looking over to your direction but not directly at you. yet.

you lowered your music to make sure you don’t catch his attention since you weren’t mentally prepared to meet a pretty boy tonight, but you were unfortunate. you hastily tried to put your seatbelt on but your shaky hands couldn’t get the buckle inside to lock. “please please please plea-“

knocking on your car window interrupted your pleas. scrunching your nose out of habit, you slowly looked over to your left where the knocking was. and damn, you were not ready to see the man up close. all his features, the way his eyes glistened, the way some of his hair strands sticked to his sweaty forehead, how perfectly tinted his pink lips are, and how his small mole was splattered so close to his moon crescent shaped eye. so clear under the moonlight.

he stood timidly outside your car with his hands in the pocket of his sweatpants that you were previously drooling over. without thinking and processing what was happening, it’s like your finger has a mind of its own and pressed the button to lower the slightly tinted car window itself. “um were you listening to music?” his voice was hoarse due to the dryness caused by his run.

you didn’t trust yourself to speak knowing you’ll make the atmosphere even more awkward, so you simply just gulped and nodded with a small smile.

“can i... can i listen with you?” jeno didn’t know exactly what he was asking. he didn’t know if he was hearing correctly or it was just his imagination, but he could’ve sworn that he heard the same music that was booming in his head also in the car you were currently in.

you were perplexed. how weird but no complaints, you thought. “yeah.. why not..” your voice came out small which you mentally slapped herself for making your nervousness so evident. you cranked up the volume slightly, keeping your focus on your steering wheel so you weren’t able to see the change of expression on jeno’s face.

“can i come in?” his voice seemed more alive and less soft than before since he couldn’t contain his mixed feelings as he realized that he’s standing outside of his soulmate’s car.

without any hesitation, “yes.” you slapped your mouth with your hand immediately, not knowing why you just allowed a whole stranger inside your car. but if you were to die tonight because of this god-like man, it might be a better way to die than blandly dying in your sleep. and you always loved to have spice in your life. plus, you were not about to pass an opportunity to spend time with the boy, or you’d hate yourself forever for denying him.

jeno stood there baffled, not expecting you to agree rather quickly. nonetheless, he strutted his way towards the other side of the car and shyly sat beside you inside, not bothering to wear the seatbelt. you both wanted to groan due to the painful awkward silence surrounding your strained figures. you can’t help but notice how tensed jeno was sitting in your passenger seat, his hands fiddling on his bouncing knees and his back straight. jeno faced you, “can i play a song?”

you, in awe, nodded your head enchantedly while boring your eyes into him, admiring his appearance every millisecond that passed before he turns away from you and connects the aux cord to his phone. he increases the volume slightly and hovered his shaking thumb over his phone screen, slowly pressing play. you flinched when bieber’s voice boomed inside your head and in your car, replacing the melodies of your own favored music. you covered your ears and scrunched your face until the realization came to you, causing you to relax your facial expression and lower your hands down to your thighs. being in a state of shock, the first words to come out were “what the fuck?”

the still coy boy widened his eyes in panic, “am i not what you were expecting?”

you rapidly moved your head ‘no’ in eager disagreement as you took in the feeling of finally meeting your soulmate. and god, you couldn’t wait to assist him on his music choices. but at the moment, you didn’t mind hearing the pop singer’s voice stuck inside your head. in fact, you didn’t even focus on the horrid music that jeno was playing since all your attention was placed onto the beautiful man who would not stop staring at you so intensely sitting in your car at nearly ten p.m. “no, i’m very much satisfied.” the smallest smile appeared on your face which allowed jeno to relax slightly.

a wave of courage crashed into your body when you stopped the music shortly after, you made strong eye contact with him. jeno still sat in his seat stiffly as he watched your every move with soft eyes that contrasts with his harsh posture. you leaned in painfully slow, trying to see any discomfort in jeno’s face and body language but once you saw his body relax and his eyes longing for your lips, you couldn’t help but mold your lips together.

sucking in a bit of air, you were the first to move your lips taking small control. your lips kept moving and moving but it kept its slow pace, rubbing against each other so softly. you could taste his mint-flavored chapstick smeared on his lips which messily transferred onto yours as well, while jeno could taste your strawberry-flavored lips from the puffbar— feeling intoxicated by the kiss and wanting more.

the awkward atmosphere was long gone, and you two felt nothing but warmth and familiarity as you’ve finally found one another. you two have been connected by your minds before today, but now you’re finally able to connect with one another by the use of your lips tonight.

boldly, jeno easily lifted you up off of your seat and onto his lap like it was nothing. your heartbeat became unsteady when you gripped onto his arms and felt nothing but hard muscle, his hands placed safely on your waist caressing your side softly. everything about the kiss was so nourishing, it wasn’t aggressive whatsoever— both your lips were plump and the movements of your fingertips against each other’s goosebump-covered skins were delicate. you, being the first to pull away to catch a breath, were fascinated over how amazing jeno’s stamina was. you remained on his lap, as jeno rested his forehead onto your forehead and stared deeply into your dark but shining eyes, sighing contently not knowing what to say next.

thankfully, you said the first words. “you have really shitty taste in music.” earning a genuine laugh from jeno who was shaking his head slightly in disbelief with the most beautiful eye smile you’ve ever seen.

“me? i don’t know how you don’t get a headache everytime you listen to your music.”

you smiled big causing your eyes to crinkle up. your hand reached down for the seat’s lever and made the passenger seat recline all the way back resulting to you laying onto his chest. you gasped in a joking manner, “that isn’t nice.”

“hmm, you’re the one to talk. you just insulted my music taste.” his voice became softer, but you could still sense his smile through his voice. jeno’s hand began to comb through your soft hair while your fingertips traced the outlines of his veins popping out of his arms.

“i was just telling the truth, and being honest is the best thing a person can do, sooo..” continuing to nonchalantly draw random circles and lines on his arm, you looked up at him and you immediately made eye contact since his eyes were already set on you the entire time.

pulling your hair back slightly so he can get a better view of your slightly pink tinted face, he replied with, “then i’ll be honest.” his voice came out in almost a whisper, the corners of his bruised lips from all the kissing turned upwards. “you’re so beautiful.”

you scrunched your nose because although you tried so hard to cringe at his words, you couldn’t stop the butterflies swarming in your stomach and you couldn’t stop the idiot smile forming on your face. you looked away and rested your cheek back onto his chest, returning to trace his veins while his fingers went back to work combing your hair. there, the two of you laid in silence under the moonlight taking in your soulmate’s presence. thinking maybe you’d be able to tolerate each other’s music taste for a change, and find a common ground or two.

[pluviophile-bookworm]

High School Musical: The Musical: The Series: The Rewatch pt.3

Ok, full disclosure: I should not be doing this right now. But I've been thinking about it since yesterday and, well, I reckon I can go over 1x4 and 5, and then move on to my actual work. So here we are. I'm really, really excited for these two, so without further ado, I'll dive right into:

1x4: It's hard to believe that I couldn't see... the majority of what happens in this episode when I first watched it

Why is Nini such a pro at making a scene with whoever her current boyfriend is in the middle of a public place? I mean, I get it that she's upset about EJ going through her phone — who wouldn't be — but maybe - and this is just a friendly suggestion — she could try and discuss that in private, not start a shouting match within view of all their classmates. Just saying.

'Ricky would never steal my phone' — well, perhaps not, but he's not quite above deleting stuff from it, either... I wonder if whoever is writing this show knows that there are many other ways to make a relationship unhealthy... it's not funny anymore. Just repetitive.

Ahhh Natalie and her emotional support hamster! At least there's one good thing about this scene.

Sure, Ricky, blame Big Red for the fact that you misplace your stuff... a very nice best friend he's got, indeed.

Gosh, everything is so awkward and there is just so much tension all over the place — Ricky's parents, then EJ and Nini, and then Carlos just being oblivious to the fact that they just broke up... you know, that last part just made me laugh. And then Ricky's reaction to his parents legally separating just broke my heart. That boy's been through too much.

Big Red being completely clueless about theatre terms is super funny and endearing, but let me just put myself in his shoes for a sec. He's followed his best friend into a badly thought-out scheme to get back together with his ex, got dragged into joining the crew, and is now expected to know what everything is. I would not put up with that... ok, who are we kidding, I'm a massive pushover and would put up with anything, but my point is... he shouldn't have to. At least people are doing the bare minimum to help him learn and nobody's laughed at him for not knowing. That's the good thing about this crew.

Ok, so I have posted about my thoughts of their take on What I've Been Looking For before, back when the episode was brand new, so I won't go into detail about that. In short, I think they've got the arrangement all wrong considering that it is a plot point in the original movie, but... the execution is funny. The scene is about Nini and EJ's post-breakup tension and it shows. I just kind of wish now Miss Jenn had pulled Nini out and put Gina in, even just for this rehearsal — and I might or might not be saying this as a Portwell shipper.

Miss Jenn is done with the students' personal drama and honestly, I'm right behind her. These kids are being completely unprofessional — and well, I realise that we can't expect them to be professional at this stage, but... they could at least try to concentrate on rehearsal and not their personal lives for a second.

Ricky hugging a cushion is my spirit animal. That's it, that's the comment.

Ahhh the tension between EJ and Gina though... 'around here seniors don't follow sophomores' — well, we'll see how it goes, Mr. Senior.

What gives Nini the right to shout at strangers about their relationship? I am honestly so frustrated with her these days. Wonder why I never was during season 1. The reasons are all there.

'He loves you' — yeah, like a little sister, he does. Also, Ash is so precious, always trying to see the good in other people. EJ 1.0 is so lucky he had her as an example.

Ok, I'm not going to go into what an amazing best friend Big Red is because we all know that (plus I'm saving it for a certain scene in 1x5), but this must be so hard for him. I mean, he's trying his absolute best to help Ricky feel better and distract him from his problems, and Ricky is turning everything down. I mean, I guess I understand where he's coming from too, but I'm unable to look at things through the lead-centric lens alone anymore. I'm more aware of non-lead characters now (some more so than others) and this is putting a whole new spin on my perception of everything that happens.

I've got no idea how Big Red can sleep with all this noise, though. I could never. But to each their own.

'perfect on paper' — that's EJ 1.0 to a T. I've got to give Nini that.

Ricky wearing the pride t-shirt... we love to see it.

See, this is why I keep forgetting why I ever shipped Rini and then remembering again... their chemistry is just so on-again-off-again, and here it's definitely present, but I just need a couple with consistent chemistry, you know. Hey, isn't that kind of what All I Want is about? Kind of. I don't know. I've been unable to listen to that song ever since it got big irl. I have this... problem with media that becomes popular and mainstream... I mean, I never hold a grudge against things just for being popular, but I just... relate to underrated stuff much easier. Not because it's underrated, but it just so happens that nearly everything I like and relate to is underrated in some capacity. Even HSMTMTS itself — it's practically unheard of here in Bulgaria, so I would not have found it if I hadn't been looking for it specifically. Ok, this comment got derailed several times. I guess I'll just stop here and move right on to 1x5 at this point.

1x5: A bedazzled tablecloth, a perfectly balanced unicycle and bad reception at the barn... not the perfect ingredients, but they can still... Work This Out

'Miss Jenn says that's a life in the arts... well, that and almost constant unemployment' — alright, I know this line is not supposed to be funny, and that it's a painful reality for a lot of people, but... maybe it's the delivery. I just laugh every time.

See, this is what I mean when I say I want to see consistent chemistry — Seblos have it. I mean, I really don't want to jinx things, but... they do.

Big Red seems to be in a more... outspoken mood today, I guess you could say. Too bad Ricky is still shutting everything he says down. Seriously, Big Red and Seb should start a club for people who try their best to be there for their loved ones and still keep being shushed.

I might be super frustrated with nearly everything Nini says and does (can somebody please tell me why that is?), but... flushing her dress down the toilet? Major mood.

Listen, I love Miss Jenn and that she's close to her students, but... emerging from a toilet cubicle and inviting herself to Kourtney and Nini's girls' night was... Will Shuester level of questionable.

Ricky being the mature one about his parents separation is... I mean, it's admirable, but how did he move past the impending depression of last episode and towards being the one who tells his dad to get up and move on? Well, I mean, good for him. But I think the issue is far from buried yet.

'Friend of the year'? Ricky? I don't think so. First of all, if he were, he'd know that Big Red does not have two left feet. Wasn't it you, Ricky, who was stumbling over the steps in HSM a couple of weeks ago? You're one to talk. Plus Big Red's been listening and trying to help while you've just been spouting off about your personal problems for... how long has it been now? I get it, Ricky has issues that he needs to work through, but he's almost legally blind in both eyes when it comes to Big Red.

Ok, but Ricky is the epitome of 'cannot solve his own problems but has a suggestion on how everybody else should solve theirs' in this episode. Maybe take a step back and listen to your own advice?

'My parents think I'm bonding with the livestock' — I've got no idea why I find this line so funny, but I do. And I've got so much love for this entire scene. Carlos' reaction to Seb's response to his invitation is just... the most adorable thing ever! My heart might just burst. Especially given what we're about to go through tomorrow in 2x10... I am. Not. Ready.

The entire karaoke scene just reminds me of... pretty much every extended family reunion on my mum's side. Her cousins love karaoke and are also completely tone-deaf. I love it that they're able to have fun with it, but my ears are still recovering from my great aunt's birthday party two years ago.

'When did you become Nini?' — Why does Mr. Mazzara know so much about his students' dating lives? I mean, Miss Jenn does, too, but he doesn't strike me as someone as invested in them as her. Idk, it just struck me as kind of weird.

'I didn't agree to photos' — please, EJ, I'm sure you'll want memories from your first fake-dating gig with Gina... once you're no longer fake-dating, you know. Boy, these two are going to have stories to tell to their grandchildren.

I've said some stuff about Nini, but... 'a bedazzled tablecloth' is the funniest description I've heard for Gina's homecoming dress.

'Maybe it's not actually about you at all.' Yeah, you tell him, Reddy! Ricky needs to get over himself.

The way Big Red sniffs out the drama, though... I was not-so-randomly reminded of that moment in 2x9 where Seb was like Carlos. and Big Red was like, 'Are you guys fighting?'...

Big Red doing a comedic lip-reading of Gina and EJ's dramatic scene is absolutely hilarious. I might or might not have sold my heart and soul to him after seeing that scene for the first time. But I just remembered how he said earlier that maybe he can't read lips and that just makes this 100% funnier — he was basically like a child who can't read yet making up a story based on the pictures in a book, and I mean it in the best way possible. He's a theatre dark horse, this one, and they should all be intimidated — or inspired, whatever they choose — by his hidden talents. Gosh, I love this guy. But can you blame me?

'You think I'm actually going to confide in you?' — Absolutely. You can't bully someone from your position of authority over them and then act like you're their friend. I do know now that Mr. Mazzara has hidden depths, but he had no right to be as rude to Carlos as he was in 1x3. He was right about one thing, though — Carlos doesn't need a dance partner to dance.

Ricky saying he was going to apologise to Gina and counting that as an apology is giving me major TJ/ Buffy flashbacks. I wonder why that is... * sarcasm *

Nini feeling like a fraud makes me actually sympathise with her for a second. But I feel like Nini's flaw of defining herself through boys and Ricky in particular has been addressed one time too many now, since it was first addressed here in this episode. If they make her and Ricky get back together again in season 2, I will riot. [side note: I feel like the Born to Be Brave scene says a lot about both Rini and Seblos as couples. Nini and Carlos both feel, in the moments leading up to the song, like they are incomplete without their partners. Ricky, too, has built his personality entirely around Nini at that time (and is still not completely over that in s2). And then the song comes in to remind them that they don't need a partner to be happy. I'm just thinking of Big Red's 'perfectly balanced unicycle' comment from the promotional materials, and of how he and Ashlyn, even when they're dating in s2, are never portrayed as being incomplete without each other. I guess there's a reason why they're the Beta Couple of the show — their relationship drama is nearly non-existent, and when it does exist, it's just caused by them caring too much about each other. Every other couple on the show should learn from them.]

Everybody supporting Carlos during the Born to Be Brave number just warms my heart so much... I am actually crying real tears. And then the end, when Seb finally shows up, right in time for the slow dance... I have a lot of feelings about this scene.

Seblos' dialogue here still kind of makes me cringe a little... but like, in a good way.

Yikes... Miss Jenn's getting into trouble... I mean, it was bound to happen sooner or later. But she's lucky she's had enough time with her students for them to love her enough to fight for her. Still, this is a topic for another episode, and so I won't expand on it in this post.

Well, that's it. That was 1x4 and 5. Those were pretty much my favourite episodes when season 1 was airing. And I can definitely see why, even if my views on some things have changed due to stuff that happens later. But, as I constantly say, that's what rewatches are for. In other words, 'once more, with feeling this time' as my choir director used to say.

[colonel-insomniac]

Symphony

Hey geeks, this is my first time writing for miraculous ladybug, but i think this is a good debut piece. This was written to the song “I Hear a Symphony” by Cody Fry, so do with that what you will. Anyways, this is dedicated to @pawsomelybuggy. Onwards friends.

TW: CHARACTER ILLNESS AND TERMINAL ILLNESS

“I used to hear a simple song…”

Sure, Luka was considered a “villain,” but he felt it was a classic “right reason executed in the wrong way” sort of thing. He wasn’t a villain because he wanted the Earth to shatter and crumble. And if people knew how guilty he genuinely felt when he stole the snake miraculous behind Ladybug’s back, their opinion on him might change.

He shoved his hands in his pocket, head downcast as the grey sky above released its crystal drops. Luka scoffs, because why should the universe even be surprised at this point? He would assume that the universe was detached from all the second chancing he’s done as Viperion. He hates the black suit he’s currently wearing, and the uncomfortable pointy shoes he walks the streets of Paris in. But for Adrien Agreste, he would do anything. Basically almost has done everything. Nothing’s worked.

Adrien had been sick for a while. At first, no one was sure what was wrong, not even Adrien, who brushed it off as a cold. But things progressively got worse, to the point where he was consistently fatigued and weak. He became a shell of what was the model of good health, frail and bony. It all came to a head when he was at the Couffaine residence, practicing in Kitty Section, when tiny red spots covered his skin, bruises littering the spaces in between. No one should be able to bruise that much unless something severe was going on. Everyone had thought maybe Mr. Agreste had overstepped a boundary and gotten physical in some fit of rage, so no one was prepared for the verdict they got.

“Leukemia.” The doctor said. Instantly, Luka felt as though the air was knocked out of him, and would have fallen to his knees if it weren’t for Marinette and Alya standing on either side of him.

He had both wanted to see Adrien, and desperately wanted to turn around and run, jump in the Seine, hide in his room. Something so that he wouldn’t have to face the fact that Adrien had this terrible sickness. Luka had resurfaced to hear the grim news—Adrien hadn’t been diagnosed in time to stop it. The doctor’s said the most they could do would be to make what time he had left comfortable.

Then came the one time Gabriel Agreste has probably ever been kind to his child. He immediately abandoned his work to come to the hospital, his face still stone cold and blank as he threatened the hospital if they didn’t at least try to help Adrien.

He thinks back to when Adrien started losing his hair. He had been so upset that he wouldn’t let anyone in the room, had his bodyguard see to it that that stayed true. Luka still doesn’t understand how he’d managed to get in that day, but he remembers walking in quietly, seeing the side of Adrien’s head, his hair nearly gone. A look of desperation was etched on his face, with a mixture of hopelessness as he stared out the window.

“That was until you came along…”

He’d been mad at first, and Luka had felt guilty about disrespecting Adrien’s wishes. But he knew, more than anything, that being alone was worse than disobeying what the boy wanted. Luka had given him his first beanie that day, the first of many to come. He’d also given Adrien a rose, white with a black ribbon.

Long after the rose had wilted and been thrown out, Adrien had kept the black ribbon, and had it tied to his wrist like a bracelet. The gesture had made Luka’s heart skip a beat, and so he kept bringing Adrien roses, if only to bring a smile to the boy’s face.

Through this, no one had seen Chat Noir, which on a whole was not an issue, Hawkmoth hadn’t really created any new akumas. Mostly, they had seen the return of Mr. Pigeon, who was an easy person to best, someone Ladybug could defeat on her own. Chat had attempted to show up the first couple times, but upon seeing his pale tone and unatural sweat plastering his hair to his forehead, Ladybug had promptly told him to go home and rest. He’d had to be pushed off the scene, but after the third or fourth time, had stopped showing up. Ladybug had voiced her concern to Alya as the author of the Ladyblog, but no one had seen any trace of the cat themed superhero.

“Now in its place is something new, I hear it when I look at you…”

Luka numbly walked on, not paying attention to his surroundings. There was no point, in all honesty, not when he knew where he was heading. It played out this way dozens of times now, so he figures he can afford to be absorbed by his thoughts, at least until he reaches… he shakily inhales, unable to admit even to himself where he was headed. The rain fell faster, the universe seemingly weeping with him, mourning the loss of a soul that definitely did not deserve their allotted fate.

Luka was barely able to bite back sobs, his brisk pace halting to a complete stop as he hugged his sides. The world felt permanently grey, endless and hopeless.

Those last days with Adrien the first time were the worst. They were cast in a golden glow, the spark that had always lived in Adrien’s eyes had dimmed. He seemed tired, but scared. Luka stayed by him practically 24/7, the boy leaning into the warmth that Luka’s body provided. “I’m scared.” He whispered, and Luka bit his lip hard enough to bleed. What were you supposed to say to someone who’s dying? “It’ll all be okay, except that it won’t because you won’t be here?” Absolutely not, instead he opted for “I’m scared too.” Days later, and Adrien would succumb to the cancer, leaving Luka in what felt like a vacuum devoid of all happiness.

Much to Luka’s torment, the boy had passed while Luka was asleep, and assumingly was asleep as well. At least, that’s what Luka had convinced himself so he could find some sort of peace. He had woken up to a voice, pleading for Adrien to not be gone, but when he opened his eyes, he couldn’t see anyone. He’d soon find out that Adrien was Chat Noir, and it was Plagg who had been begging for Adrien.

“With simple songs, I wanted more, perfection is so quick to bore…”

Plagg had loved the boy dearly, it was evident in the way he didn’t want to part with the boy, and would have rather been buried with Adrien over getting a new holder, Luka, having been Viperion previously, knew exactly what Plagg was, and scooped him in his hands, gingerly slipping Adrien’s ring off as nurses rushed in to try and resuscitate Adrien. Soon, Luka found his way to the roof, and sat dangling his legs off the roof, silently crying and sharing the pain with possibly the only other being to understand what fully loving Adrien felt like.

That’s where he first had gotten the idea to go rogue and steal Sass to save Adrien. Plagg was quick to discourage the idea, but his hesitance was enough to push Luka in the opposite direction. Getting Sass was easier than he thought it’d be, and that was when he rewound time for the first time. He was back to holding Adrien, and quickly rewound again, to get to a couple days before. This is where he’d start again.

For the first hundred times, he quickly realized he was dancing on a thin line of morality. Attended Adrien’s funeral about a hundred times. Rewound time dozens more. Nothing changed besides Ladybug realizing the missing miraculous and declaring Viperion an enemy. People grew to hate him time and time again, and not once had he bothered to try and clear his name, he just took it. Over and over again, publicly fighting Ladybug at one point and barely hanging onto his sanity through the fight.

“You are my beautiful, by far, our flaws are who we really are…”

And now he walks again, failed again, Plagg and Sass peeking out of his breast pocket with sad eyes. By this time, he’d told Adrien several times that he was in love with him, kissed his cheek dozens of times, and just held the boy to comfort him many more times. Nothing ever changed and Luka was getting to a point in his frustration where he wanted to throw something, and being a generally mellow person, that was saying something.

Getting lightheaded at the thought of being in that field again, he sat down, putting his head in his hands and trying to regulate his breathing. Luka glanced at his wrist, at the snake miraculous ready to pull him back again whenever he decides to. Normally, he’d rather stand and get through this feeling, but he simply just does not care anymore. If it’s going to rain on him let it rain. The only thing that matters anymore is saving Adrien. And that’s all he can think of doing anymore.

He can’t make it to the funeral, he knows that now. He might have forced himself through the torture of it several times before, but it’s worn him down. Luka looks down at the kwamis, mutters a monotonous “sorry,” and pulls the bracelet.

“I used to hear a simple song, that was until you came along…”

The feeling of light ripping through his body is impossible to get used to, but he soon opens his eyes to find himself in the middle of a hospital courtyard dappled in sunlight falling through the trees. Adrien sits beside him, had begged Luka to let him sit in the grass and not the wheelchair, so now the both sit in the grass. The blonde haired boy leans against the tree behind him, eyes closed and a peaceful smile gracing his face. It brought Luka a hollow joy to see his love smile, if only for a little.

“Luka.” Adrien cracks open an eye, a hint of a mischievous glint residing in them. He patiently waits for Luka to muster the courage to respond. When he does, Adrien swiftly pulls two blades of grass to his lips and blows, creating a piercing whistle. Luka jumps, startled, but mulls over the resonating melody that it creates in the world. Perfectly descriptive of Adrien as always, and that never ceases to baffle Luka.

Adrien laughs, the sound pulling a smile from Luka. Later, he gets scolded for giving into Adriens pleas to sit in the grass. “What harm can it do,” he snaps. “He’s dying and we all know it. Why shouldn’t he be able to enjoy what little time he has left.” That gets the nurse to stop and nod. Maybe it’s just the tears in Luka’s eyes coupled with the desperation and sorrow in his voice.

Adrien holds Luka’s hand in his after the blue haired boy convinces Adrien to eat some food. Luka has some bright green nail polish on the bed tray per request of Adrien, who had conveyed to Luka he at least wanted to be rebellious in his dying moments a couple days prior. Luka had withdrawn after, much to Adrien’s displeasure, and had then found how affected Luka was from all this. Breaking out of his trance, Luka feels the weight of Adrien’s head on his shoulder, and Luka turns to press his cheek against his head.

Luka stares at the bottle of green polish before raising his knee to put Adrien’s hand on it. “Hold still so I don’t mess up,” he warns Adrien, but has a feeling the other boy will do something to mess him up anyways.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Adrien responds, just minutes before he jerks his hand, resulting in a bright green streak across his hand.

“You took my broken melody, and now, I hear a symphony…”

Days later, and the outcome doesn’t change. Luka resets time again.

Adrien cups Luka’s cheek in his hand, his cool palm causing a stir in Luka, who subconsciously leaned into the embrace. “You look tired, dear.” Adrien mumbled. Luka squeezed his eyes tight so Adrien wouldn’t have to see him cry.

With a shaky inhale, Luka leaned down, resting his head against Adrien’s shoulder. ‘I’m so tired. Please, stay with me this time.” He pleads, knowing it’s not up to Adrien to decide.

“I promise I won’t.” Adrien whispers, wrapping his arms around Luka.

Many times later, and the doctors finally find a viable solution.

“And now, I hear a symphony.”

[cerastes]

I’m fine where I am. At least for now, I’m fine where I am. I work for my mentor, who supports me and teaches me still, I have a job at all during a pandemic, when I know many a colleague of mine does not. I am in a position where I can try new things and experiment with my craft, not through just theory, but through being able to put it into practice. I like where I am. I like who I am.

But I feel as though I wish to do more. Two years ago, in anticipation to my busy 2019, I started proactively trying out new things. More proactively than I usually am, I mean. Some stuck, others were a nice experience that I’m ok with not revisiting, others, I’m not particularly enthused about but I made promises regarding my presence and activity in those that stand to this day. I wish to do more. I understand that part of this hunger tinged in frustration comes from the pandemic in at least some degree; I intended on working out more than ever before this year, and I intended to start practicing archery.

There’s fun things to do. Streaming has been fun. I like it. Doing it as a group has been fun. I had always wanted to do more streaming in general, it’s just very calming and fun to sit there and talk while playing a game. I’m glad I’ve had AK to sink my teeth into, both in gameplay and in lore (seriously, how can a game so perfectly tailored for me exist?). Recently, I’ve started a creative project with my best friend. I’m very happy about this, we’re still very much in the preliminary phases, but I’m so happy it’s him with whom I can embark on this journey of creation. I guess it paid of to nerdify and weebify him, because I don’t think this would’ve been able to happen before, and I’m both a hermit and someone who has very particular views and opinions on the creative process and how to tackle it. I almost never collab, because I enjoy the silence and my own presence more than I do the company of others, but if it’s with my best friend, that doesn’t apply, I do enjoy his company more than my silence and presence. I’m happy about that.

I don’t know what else I’m going to try my hand at, and this is a weird thing for me to feel, but... I feel as if I could be doing something. Whenever I feel this way, I try things, because I dislike inaction, and I dislike people that endlessly complain about their inaction while remaining, you know, inactive. Makes my blood boil, I’ll be truthful, the whole “what am I doing with my life?” line of thought and vague text posts. If you have time to ask yourself that, you have time to get up and look for something to do, to be, to enjoy, to indulge, to create, to consume. At times I think it’s a harsh judgement, and it’s not like I don’t get how depression works -- been there, buddy -- but you can’t wait for someone to rescue you. I don’t resent self-indulgent media for being popular and not for me, but I do quite resent it for popularizing and romanticizing the idea that your sadness is something you need to be rescued from. You take the first step, and people will naturally help you out from there, but if you just loiter there saying sad and vague things, no one will bother.

In any case.

I’m looking for that, for that extra something I want to do. I don’t know what it is yet, but I know I want to do it, I feel as if I am wasting time not doing it. I am fervently inspired by seeing people I know chasing after things they’ve wanted to do. I, too, want to chase. Improving is a nice feeling. Trying out new things is a nice feeling. Routine is nice but only as long as it is constantly evolving instead of just becoming a stagnant cycle. 

Speaking of particularities regarding creation, though quite obviously I love reading, I’m still more a writer than a reader, and I don’t really talk about my creations. And being honest, I don’t often fancy hearing about others’ in a vacuum (ie. conceptually, “this is my OC!” I’d rather you write a story and show me that). This is a me thing, and I don’t think this explanation will actually be understood by too many (conceptually? yes, otherwise? no), but I think there’s too much You in your creation. This is perhaps just my psychologist brain being itself but people telling me all about their OCs unprompted, to me, who automatically reads between the lines both as seasoned reader and a psychologist, is akin to subjecting me to their psyche, and god I know this sounds cheesy and try-hard, I know, it is painful to write, but 6 friends in the last few months have made big life decisions which were foreshadowed to me by how much of them they put into their creations, which were shared with me. Likewise, I feel like sharing my creations too much, on a conceptual level, even, is putting myself out there. I doubt anyone did, but if anyone wondered why I don’t really share what I write or create with any sort of regularity, there’s why. I just think it’s intimate, and I don’t think intimacy is something to show to everyone, which I know is a weird damn way to see creative endeavors, trust me, but that’s how I view it. That’s not to say I don’t want people to see my things, not at all, I do update my writing blog now and then, after all, and I love seeing people read my stuff, this is more about... Sharing OCs, for example, in a vacuum and talking about them? Feels too weird for me.

Well, there’s that, but there’s also the fact that I also have another particularity (yes, I know) in which I don’t particularly care to hear about OCs as much as I want to see them in an actual written piece. Let me put it this way: I don’t care about a sock puppet if you show it to me during lunch, but I do care for it if you put up a play and let me see the sock puppet in action. I think people should enjoy art and creation in any way they do, but conversely, I like seeing creation in action, not conceptually. Conceptual is easy and vague. Write a story. That’s more exciting and enriching and lets me get a clear view of your created character more than your psyche and all the things you may not even know you’re clamoring (that you put on absolutely every OC, yes, we notice), so write, write, and write. Give your characters a context, scenario, a story.

Of course, I am merely speaking of my own preference. What’s more important is that you enjoy what you’re writing and what you’re doing. I just think a proper story in motion is far more interesting than concepts. I used to love “the concept of”, maybe you remember, I used to make a lot of posts regarding ‘concepts’ and being in love with the concept of this and that in writing. That’s been one of my major changes, honestly, I don’t love concepts anymore. I love execution now.

That’s about it, yeah, head emptied. Sleep now.

[96harmony96]

Chapter one.

“We should head to a bar and celebrate.”

I wasn’t surprised by my roommate’s emphatic pronouncement. Cary Taylor found excuses to celebrate, no matter how small and inconsequential. I’d always considered it part of his charm. “I’m sure drinking the night before starting a new job is a bad idea.”

“Come on, camila.” Cary sat on our new living room floor amid a half-dozen moving boxes and flashed his winning smile. We’d been unpacking for days, yet he still looked amazing. Leanly built, dark-haired, and green-eyed, Cary was a man who rarely looked anything less than absolutely gorgeous on any day of his life. I might have resented that if he hadn’t been the dearest person on earth to me.

“I’m not talking about a bender,” he insisted. “Just a glass of wine or two. We can hit a happy hour and be in by eight.”

“I don’t know if I’ll make it back in time.” I gestured at my yoga pants and fitted workout tank. “After I time the walk to work, I’m going to hit the gym.”

“Walk fast, work out faster.” Cary’s perfectly executed arched brow made me laugh. I fully expected his million-dollar face to appear on billboards and fashion magazines all over the world one day. No matter his expression, he was a knockout.

“How about tomorrow after work?” I offered as a substitute. “If I make it through the day, that’ll be worth celebrating.”

“Deal. I’m breaking in the new kitchen for dinner.”

“Uh…” Cooking was one of Cary’s joys, but it wasn’t one of his talents. “Great.”

Blowing a wayward strand of hair off his face, he grinned at me. “We’ve got a kitchen most restaurants would kill for. There’s no way to screw up a meal in there.”

Dubious, I headed out with a wave, choosing to avoid a conversation about cooking. Taking the elevator down to the first floor, I smiled at the doorman when he let me out to the street with a flourish.

The moment I stepped outside, the smells and sounds of Manhattan embraced me and invited me to explore. I was not merely across the country from my former home in San Diego, but seemingly worlds away. Two major metropolises—one endlessly temperate and sensually lazy, the other teeming with life and frenetic energy. In my dreams, I’d imagining living in a walkup in Brooklyn, but being a dutiful daughter, I found myself on the Upper West Side instead. If not for Cary living with me, I would’ve been miserably lonely in the sprawling apartment that cost more per month than most people made in a year.

The doorman tipped his hat to me. “Good evening, Miss Cabello. Will you need a cab this evening?”

“No thanks, Paul.” I rocked onto the rounded heels of my fitness shoes. “I’ll be walking.”

He smiled. “It’s cooled down from this afternoon. Should be nice.”

“I’ve been told I should enjoy the June weather before it gets wicked hot.”

“Very good advice, Miss Cabello.”

Stepping out from under the modern glass entrance overhang that somehow meshed with the age of the building and its neighbors, I enjoyed the relative quiet of my tree-lined street before I reached the bustle and flow of traffic on Broadway. One day soon, I hoped to blend right in, but for now I still felt like a fraudulent New Yorker. I had the address and the job, but I was still wary of the subway and had trouble hailing cabs. I tried not to walk around wide-eyed and distracted, but it was hard. There was just so much to see and experience.

The sensory input was astonishing—the smell of vehicle exhaust mixed with food from vendor carts, the shouts of hawkers blended with music from street entertainers, the awe-inspiring range of

faces and styles and accents, the gorgeous architectural wonders…And the cars. Jesus Christ. The frenetic flow of tightly packed cars was unlike anything I’d ever seen anywhere.

There was always an ambulance, patrol car, or fire engine trying to part the flood of yellow taxis with the electronic wail of ear-splitting sirens. I was in awe of the lumbering garbage trucks that navigated tiny one-way streets and the package delivery drivers who braved the bumper-to-bumper traffic while facing rigid deadlines.

Real New Yorkers cruised right through it all, their love for the city as comfortable and familiar as a favorite pair of shoes. They didn’t view the steam billowing from potholes and vents in the sidewalks with romantic delight and they didn’t blink an eye when the ground vibrated beneath their feet as the subway roared by below, while I grinned like an idiot and flexed my toes. New York was a brand new love affair for me. I was starry-eyed and it showed.

So I had to really work at playing it cool as I made my way over to the building where I would be working. As far as my job went, at least, I’d gotten my way. I wanted to make a living based on my own merits and that meant an entry-level position. Starting the next morning, I would be the assistant to Mark Garrity at Waters Field & Leaman, one of the preeminent advertising agencies in the US. My stepfather, mega-financier Richard Stanton, had been annoyed when I took the job, pointing out that if I’d been less prideful I could’ve worked for a friend of his instead and reaped the benefits of that connection.

“You’re as stubborn as your father,” he’d said. “It’ll take him forever to pay off your student loans on a cop’s salary.”

That had been a major fight, with my dad unwilling to back down. “Hell if another man’s gonna pay for my daughter’s education,” Alejandro Cabello had said when Stanton made the offer. I respected that. I suspected Stanton did, too, although he would never admit it. I understood both men’s sides, because I’d fought to pay off the loans myself…and lost. It was a point of pride for my father.

My mother had refused to marry him, but he’d never wavered from his determination to be my dad in every way possible.

Knowing it was pointless to get riled up over old frustrations, I focused on getting to work as quickly as possible. I’d deliberately chosen to clock the short trip during a busy time on a Monday, so I was pleased when I reached the Crossfire Building, which housed Waters Field & Leaman, in less than thirty minutes.

I tipped my head back and followed the line of the building all the way up to the slender ribbon of sky. The Crossfire was seriously impressive, a sleek spire of gleaming sapphire that pierced the clouds. I knew from my previous interviews that the interior on the other side of the ornate copper-framed revolving doors was just as awe-inspiring, with golden-veined marble floors and walls, and brushed aluminum security desk and turnstiles.

I pulled my new ID card out of the inner pocket of my pants and held it up for the two guards in black business suits at the desk. They stopped me anyway, no doubt because I was majorly underdressed, but then they cleared me through. After I completed an elevator ride up to the twentieth floor, I’d have a general time frame for the whole route from door to door. Score.

I was walking toward the bank of elevators when a svelte, beautifully groomed brunette caught her purse on a turnstile and upended it, spilling a deluge of change. Coins rained onto the marble and rolled merrily away, and I watched people dodge the chaos and keep going as if they didn’t see it. I winced in sympathy and crouched to help the woman collect her money, as did one of the guards.

“Thank you,” she said, shooting me a quick harried smile.

I smiled back. “No problem. I’ve been there.”

I’d just squatted to reach a nickel lying near the entrance when I ran into a pair of luxurious black oxfords draped in tailored black slacks. I waited for a beat for the person to move out of my way and when they didn’t, I arched my neck back to allow my line of sight to rise. The custom three-piece suit hit more than a few of my hot buttons, but it was the tall, powerfully lean body inside it that made it sensational. Still, as hot as all that magnificent maleness was, it wasn’t until I reached the person's face that I went down for the count.

Wow. Just…wow. She sank into an elegant crouch directly in front of me. Hit with all that exquisite femininity at eye-level, I could only stare. Stunned.

Then something shifted in the air between us.

As she stared back, she altered…as if a shield slid away from her eyes, revealing a scorching force of will that sucked the air from my lungs. The intense magnetism she exuded grew in strength, becoming a near tangible impression of vibrant and unrelenting power.

Reacting purely on instinct, I shifted backward. And sprawled flat on my ass.

My elbows throbbed from the violent contact with the marble floor, but I scarcely registered the pain. I was too preoccupied with staring, riveted by the woman in front of me. Inky black hair shoulder length framed a breathtaking face. Her bone structure would make a sculptor weep with joy, while a firmly etched mouth, a blade of a nose, and intensely Emerald green eyes made her savagely gorgeous. Those eyes narrowed slightly, her features otherwise schooled into impassivity.

Her dress shirt and suit were both black, but her tie perfectly matched those brilliant irises. Her eyes were shrewd and assessing, and they bored into me. My heartbeat quickened; my lips parted to accommodate faster breaths. she smelled sinfully good. Not cologne. Body wash, maybe. Or shampoo. Whatever it was, it was mouthwatering, as was she.

she held out a hand to me, exposing onyx cufflinks and a very expensive-looking watch.

With a shaky inhalation, I placed my hand in hers. My pulse leaped when her grip tightened. Her touch was electric, sending a shock up my arm that raised the hairs on my nape. she didn’t move for a moment, a frown line marrying the space between arrogantly slashed brows.

“Are you all right?”

Her voice was cultured and smooth, with a rasp that made my stomach flutter. It brought sex to mind. Extraordinary sex. I thought for a moment that she might be able to make me orgasm just by talking long enough.

My lips were dry, so I licked them before answering. “I’m fine.”

she stood with economical grace, pulling me up with her. We maintained eye contact because I was unable to look away. she was younger than I’d assumed at first. Younger than thirty would be my guess, but her eyes were much worldlier. Hard and sharply intelligent.

I felt drawn to her, as if a rope bound my waist and she was slowly, inexorably pulling it.

Blinking out of my semi-daze, I released her. she wasn’t just beautiful; she was…enthralling. she was the kind of woman that made a person want to rip her shirt open and watch the buttons scatter along with her inhibitions. I looked at her in her civilized, urbane, outrageously expensive suit and thought of raw, primal, sheet-clawing fucking.

she bent down and retrieved the ID card I hadn’t realized I’d dropped, freeing me from that provocative gaze. My brain stuttered back into gear.

I was irritated with myself for feeling so awkward while she was so completely self-possessed. And why? Because I was dazzled, damn it.

she glanced up at me and the pose—she's nearly kneeling before me—skewed my equilibrium again. she held my gaze as she rose. “Are you sure you’re alright? You should sit down for a minute.”

My face heated. How lovely to appear awkward and clumsy in front of the most self-assured and graceful woman I’d ever met. “I just lost my balance. I’m okay.”

Looking away, I caught sight of the woman who’d dumped the contents of her purse. She thanked the guard who’d helped her; then turned to approach me, apologizing profusely. I faced her and held out the handful of coins I’d collected, but her gaze snagged on the god in the suit and she promptly forgot me altogether. After a beat, I just reached over and dumped the change into the woman’s bag. Then I risked a glance at the woman again, finding her watching me even as the brunette gushed thank-yous. To her. Not to me, of course, the one who’d actually helped.

I talked over her. “May I have my badge, please?”

she offered it back to me. Although I made an effort to retrieve it without touching her, her fingers brushed mine, sending that charge of awareness into me all over again.

“Thank you,” I muttered before skirting her and pushing out to the street through the revolving door. I paused on the sidewalk, gulping in a breath of New York air redolent with a million different things, some good and some toxic.

There was a sleek black Bentley SUV in front of the building and I saw my reflection in the spotless limo tinted windows. I was flushed and my brown eyes were overly bright. I’d seen that look on my face before—in the bathroom mirror just before I went to bed with a man. It was my I’m-ready-to-fuck look and it had absolutely no business being on my face now.

Christ. Get a grip.

Five minutes with Miss. Dark and Dangerous, and I was filled with an edgy, restless energy. I could still feel the pull of her, the inexplicable urge to go back inside where she was. I could make the argument that I hadn’t finished what I’d come to the Crossfire to do, but I knew I’d kick myself for it later. How many times was I going to make an ass of myself in one day?

“Enough,” I scolded myself under my breath. “Moving on.”

Horns blared as one cab darted in front of another with only inches to spare and then slammed on the brakes as daring pedestrians stepped into the intersection seconds before the light changed. Shouting ensued, a barrage of expletives and hand gestures that didn’t carry real anger behind them. In seconds all the parties would forget the exchange, which was just one beat in the natural tempo of the city.

As I melded into the flow of foot traffic and set off toward the gym, a smile teased my mouth. Ah, New York, I thought, feeling settled again. You rock.

I’d planned on warming up on a treadmill, then capping off the hour with a few of the machines, but when I saw that a beginners’ kickboxing class was about to start, I followed the mass of waiting students into that instead. By the time it was over, I felt more like myself. My muscles quivered with the perfect amount of fatigue and I knew I’d sleep hard when I crashed later.

“You did really well.”

I wiped the sweat off my face with a towel and looked at the young man who spoke to me. Lanky and sleekly muscular, he had keen brown eyes and flawless café au lait skin. His lashes were enviably thick and long, while his head was shaved bald.

“Thank you.” My mouth twisted ruefully. “Pretty obvious it was my first time, huh?”

He grinned and held out his hand. “Parker Smith.”

“Camila Cabello.”

“You have a natural grace, camila. With a little training you could be a literal knockout. In a city like New York, knowing self-defense is imperative.” He gestured over to a corkboard hung on the wall. It was covered in thumbtacked business cards and fliers. Tearing off a flag from the bottom of a fluorescent sheet of paper, he held it out to me. “Ever heard of Krav Maga?”

“In a Jennifer Lopez movie.”

“I teach it, and I’d love to teach you. That’s my website and the number to the studio.”

I admired his approach. It was direct, like his gaze, and his smile was genuine. I’d wondered if he was angling toward a pickup, but he was cool enough about it that I couldn’t be sure.

Parker crossed his arms, which showed off cut biceps. He wore a black sleeveless shirt and long shorts. His Converse sneakers looked comfortably beat up and tribal tattoos peeked up from his collar. “My website has the hours. You should come by and watch, see if it’s for you.”

“I’ll definitely think about it.”

“Do that.” He extended his hand again, and his grip was solid and confident. “I hope to see you.”

The apartment smelled fabulous when I got back home and Adele was crooning soulfully through the surround sound speakers about chasing pavements. I looked across the open floor plan into the kitchen and saw Cary swaying to the music while stirring something on the range. There was an open bottle of wine on the counter and two goblets, one of which was half-filled with red wine.

“Hey,” I called out as I got closer. “Whatcha cooking? And do I have time for a shower first?”

He poured wine into the other goblet and slid it across the breakfast bar to me, his movements practiced and elegant. No one would know from looking at him that he’d spent his childhood bouncing between his drug-addicted mother and foster homes, followed by adolescence in juvenile detention facilities and state-run rehabs. “Pasta with meat sauce. And hold the shower, dinner’s ready. Have fun?”

“Once I got to the gym, yeah.” I pulled out one of the teakwood barstools and sat. I told him about the kickboxing class and Parker Smith. “Wanna go with me?”

“Krav Maga?” Cary shook his head. “That’s hardcore. I’d get all bruised up and that would cost me jobs. But I’ll go with you to check it out, just in case this guy’s a wack.”

I watched him dump the pasta into a waiting colander. “A wack, huh?”

My dad had taught me to read guys pretty well, which was how I’d known the god in the suit was trouble. Regular people offered token smiles when they helped someone, just to make a momentary connection that smoothed the way.

Then again, I hadn’t smiled at him either.

“Baby girl,” Cary said, pulling bowls out of the cupboard, “you’re a sexy, stunning woman. I question any man who doesn’t have the balls to ask you outright for a date.”

I wrinkled my nose at him.

He set a bowl in front of me. It contained tiny tubes of salad noodles covered in a skimpy tomato sauce with lumps of ground beef and peas. “You’ve got something on your mind. What is it?”

Hmm…I caught the handle of the spoon sticking out of the bowl and decided not to comment on the food. “I think I ran into the hottest person on the planet today. Maybe the hottest woman in the history of the world.”

“Oh? I thought that was me. Do tell me more.” Cary stayed on the other side of the counter, preferring to stand and eat.

I watched him take a couple bites of his own concoction before I felt brave enough to try it myself. “Not much to tell, really. I ended up sprawled on my ass in the lobby of the Crossfire and she gave me a hand up.”

“Tall or short? Blond or dark? Built or lean? Eye color?”

I washed down my second bite with some wine. “Tall. Dark. Lean and built. green eyes. Filthy rich, judging by her clothes and accessories. And she was insanely sexy. You know how it is—some hot people don’t make your hormones go crazy, while some unattractive people have massive sex appeal. This woman had it all.”

My belly fluttered as it had when Dark and Dangerous touched me. In my mind, I remembered her breathtaking face with crystal clarity. It should be illegal for a woman to be that mind-blowing. I was still recovering from the frying of my brain cells.

Cary set his elbow on the counter and leaned in, his long bangs covering one vibrant green eye. “So what happened after she helped you up?”

I shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“I left.”

“What? You didn’t flirt with her?”

I took another bite. Really, the meal wasn’t bad. Or else I was just starving. “she wasn’t the kind of girl you flirt with, Cary.”

“There is no such thing as a girl you can’t flirt with. Even the happily married ones enjoy a little harmless flirtation now and then.”

“There was nothing harmless about this girl,” I said dryly.

“Ah, one of those.” Cary nodded sagely. “Bad boys and girls can be fun, if you don’t get too close.”

Of course he would know; men and women of all ages fell at his feet. Still, he somehow managed to pick the wrong partner every time. He’d dated stalkers, and cheaters, and lovers who threatened to kill themselves over him, and lovers with significant others they didn’t tell him about…Name it, he’d been through it.

“I can’t see this woman ever being fun,” I said. “she was way too intense. Still, I bet she'd be awesome in the sack with all that intensity.”

“Now you’re talking. Forget the real person. Just use ther face in your fantasies and make them perfect there.”

Preferring to get the girl out of my head altogether, I changed the subject. “You have any go-sees tomorrow?”

“Of course.” Cary launched into the details of his schedule, mentioning a jeans advertisement, self-tanner, underwear, and cologne.

I shoved everything else out of my mind and focused on him and his growing success. The demand for Cary Taylor was increasing by the day, and he was building a reputation with photographers and accounts for being both professional and prompt. I was thrilled for him and so proud. He’d come a long way and been through so much.

It wasn’t until after dinner that I noticed the two large gift boxes propped against the side of the sectional sofa.

“What are those?”

“Those,” Cary said, joining me in the living room, “are the ultimate.”

I knew immediately they were from Stanton and my mom. Money was something my mother needed to be happy and I was glad Stanton, husband #3, was not only able to fill that need for her but all her many others as well. I often wished that could be the end of it, but my mom had a difficult time accepting that I didn’t view money the same way she did. “What now?”

He threw his arm around my shoulders, easy enough for him to do because he was taller by five inches. “Don’t be ungrateful. He loves your mom. He loves spoiling your mom, and your mom loves spoiling you. As much as you don’t like it, he doesn’t do it for you. He does it for her.”

Sighing, I conceded his point. “What are they?”

“Glam threads for the advocacy center’s fundraiser dinner on Saturday. A bombshell dress for you and a Brioni tux for me, because buying gifts for me is what he does for you. You’re more tolerant if you have me around to listen to you bitch.”

“Damn straight. Thank God he knows that.”

“Of course he knows. Stanton wouldn’t be a bazillionaire if he didn’t know everything.” Cary caught my hand and tugged me over. “Come on. Take a look.”

I pushed through the revolving door of the Crossfire into the lobby ten minutes before nine the next morning. Wanting to make the best impression on my first day, I’d gone with a simple sheath dress paired with black pumps that I slid on in replacement of my walking shoes on the elevator ride up. My brown hair was twisted up in an artful chignon that resembled a figure eight, courtesy of Cary. I was hair-inept, but he could create styles that were glamorous masterpieces. I wore the small pearl studs my dad had given me as a graduation gift and the Rolex from Stanton and my mother.

I had begun to think I’d put too much care into my appearance, but as I stepped into the lobby I remembered being sprawled across the floor in my workout clothes and I was grateful I didn’t look anything like that graceless girl. The two security guards didn’t seem to put two and two together when I flashed them my ID card on the way to the turnstiles.

Twenty floors later, I was exiting into the vestibule of Waters Field & Leaman. Before me was a wall of bulletproof glass that framed the double-door entrance to the reception area. The receptionist at the crescent-shaped desk saw the badge I held up to the glass. She hit the button that unlocked the doors as I put my ID away.

“Hi, Megumi,” I greeted her when I stepped inside, admiring her cranberry-colored blouse. She was mixed race, a little bit Asian for sure, and very pretty. Her hair was dark and thick, and cut into a sleek bob that was shorter in the back and razor sharp in the front. Her sloe eyes were brown and warm, and her lips were full and naturally pink.

“camila, hi. Mark’s not in yet, but you know where you’re going, right?”

“Absolutely.” With a wave, I took the hallway to the left of the reception desk all the way to the end, where I made another left turn and ended up in a formerly open space now partitioned into cubicles. One was mine and I went straight to it.

I dropped my purse and the bag holding my walking flats into the bottom drawer of my utilitarian metal desk; then booted up my computer. I’d brought a couple of things to personalize my space and I pulled them out. One was a framed collage of three photos—me and Cary on Coronado beach, my mom and Stanton on his yacht in the French Riviera, and my dad on duty in his City of Oceanside, California, police cruiser. The other item was a colorful arrangement of glass flowers that Cary had given me just that morning as a “first day” gift. I tucked it beside the small grouping of photos, and sat back to take in the effect.

“Good morning, Camila.”

I pushed to my feet to face my boss. “Good morning, Mr. Garrity.”

“Call me Mark, please. Come on over to my office.”

I followed him across the strip of hallway, once again thinking that my new boss was very easy to look at with his gleaming dark skin, trim goatee, and laughing brown eyes. Mark had a square jaw and a charmingly crooked smile. He was trim and fit, and he carried himself with a confident poise that inspired trust and respect.

He gestured at one of the two seats in front of his glass and chrome desk, and waited until I sat to settle into his Aeron chair. Against the backdrop of sky and skyscrapers, Mark looked accomplished and powerful. He was, in fact, just a junior account manager and his office was a closet compared to the ones occupied by the directors and executives, but no one could fault the view.

He leaned back and smiled. “Did you get settled into your new apartment?”

I was surprised he remembered, but I appreciated it, too. I’d met him during my second interview and liked him right away.

“For the most part,” I answered. “Still a few stray boxes here and there.”

“You moved from San Diego, right? Nice city, but very different from New York. Do you miss the palm trees?”

“I miss the dry air. The humidity here is taking some getting used to.”

“Wait ’til summer hits.” He smiled. “So…it’s your first day and you’re my first assistant, so we’ll have to figure this out as we go. I’m not used to delegating, but I’m sure I’ll pick it up quick.”

I was instantly at ease. “I’m eager to be delegated to.”

“Having you around is a big step up for me, Camila. I’d like you to be happy working here. Do you drink coffee?”

“Coffee is one of my major food groups.”

“Ah, an assistant after my own heart.” His smile widened. “I’m not going to ask you to fetch coffee for me, but I wouldn’t mind if you helped me figure out how to use the new one-cup coffee brewers they just put in the break rooms.”

I grinned. “No problem.”

“How sad is it that I don’t have anything else for you?” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Why don’t I show you the accounts I’m working on and we’ll go from there?”

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Mark touched bases with two clients and had a long meeting with the creative team working on concept ideas for a trade school. It was a fascinating process seeing firsthand how the various departments picked up the baton from each other to carry a campaign from proposition to fruition. I might’ve stayed late just to get a better feel of the layout of the offices, but my phone rang at ten minutes to five.

“Mark Garrity’s office. Camila Cabello speaking.”

“Get your ass home so we can go out for the drink you rain-checked on yesterday.”

Cary’s mock sternness made me smile. “All right, all right. I’m coming.”

Shutting down my computer, I cleared out. When I reached the bank of elevators, I pulled out my cell to text a quick “on my way” note to Cary. A ding alerted me to which car was stopping on my floor and I moved over to stand in front of it, briefly returning my attention to hitting the send button. When the doors opened, I took a step forward. I glanced up to watch where I was going and green eyes met mine. My breath caught.

The sex god was the lone occupant.

[notthatiwilleverwriteit]

Hey I saw your answer about akigetsu and damnnn it was such a good read. They always manage to bring so many emotions in me. Also I saw that you mentioned you might have shipped akiharu if they were executed differently.. how do you mean? I too think that haruki and akihiko would have been better off as friends sigh. Last thing, hiiragi and shizu what's your thoughts? XD

Hello, dear haffi-shipper!

I have kept your ask waiting for a long time, but I think I’m finally getting around to answer you. To be honest, I’m still not completely sure what I want to say or how to convey it exactly but I don’t think further mulling is going to make much difference. So, let’s get to this finally!

“I saw that you mentioned you might have shipped akiharu if they were executed differently.. how do you mean?”

Here is the previous AkiUgetsu answer you are referring to. In it, I talked about why I think they dragged their relationship on for so long even though it was clearly painful for both of them after becoming roommates. I also said this in the end about AkiHaru:

Then there is also the development of AkiUgetsu to AkiHaru to consider. Now, I feel like I have to make something clear before entering this part of my answer. I do not ship AkiHaru. In fact, it’s probably my Given NOTP. Personally, I don’t see any romantic/sexual chemistry between them and I think they would have been better off as friends regardless of how AkiUgetsu ended. For me to feel their relationship, I think their development should have been executed better/differently.

Before I get to your question, let me tell you why it took me so long to come up with my answer and why it threw me in a bit of turmoil.

At first, your ask seemed relatively “easy” to me. I set out to reread the comic from the AkiHaru point of view but as I kept reading, I noticed two things.

First of all, I was rushing through the AkiHaru parts of the story. I was skimming instead of reading and even skipping some panels without paying them proper attention. Catching myself skimming and skipping got me thinking why I was doing it. I knew I couldn’t answer your question with such half-assed work, but it seemed I just couldn’t dig into AkiHaru. After a while, I decided to stop reading and not resume until I had solved this problem. And it turned out your ask was a good chance for me to really take a good look at myself.

As a fair warning, what I’m about to say next might offend someone, especially if you’re an AkiHaru shipper. But those things are the basis for what I have been feeling and going through, so I’d appreciate it if you would at least hear them out. 

I’m pretty sure people who have followed me in the Given fandom know that AkiUgetsu is my OTP through and through. People with whom I’m closer probably also know that my relationship with the AkiHaru folks is…complicated for the lack of a better word.

To me, the Given fandom has been one of the most frustrating fandoms I have been in. Character bashing, ship bashing, bashing disguised as crack, cliques, banning, kicking out, and very passive-aggressive behavior all around. It seems we can barely talk about anything without lowkey offending each other and we seem to lack the ability to keep scrolling if something isn’t to our taste.Now, I fully understand this kind of behavior concerns the whole fandom, though I would say some ships are more peaceful than others and are just doing their thing. But in my experience, it’s the AkiHaru folks who do the lion’s share of dominating the fandom and lowkey silencing people.

Before anyone comes at me, please know that I’m not saying people can’t ship what they want or that everyone has to agree with my personal preferences. I have no problem with people shipping AkiHaru and/or disliking AkiUgetsu. It’s their business and freedom. What I am saying, however, is that I have encountered many Ugetsu/AkiUgetsu fans who feel like they don’t have any space in the fandom. They are hesitant to post about Ugetsu/AkiUgetsu in groups etc. because they are afraid of the avalanche of AkiHaru folks who just can’t keep scrolling. And this hesitance spreads until it seems like you’re all alone in the fandom.

I’m also not saying that every AkiHaru shipper is the same. I’m sure the majority of them are perfectly nice people, and I’m even friends with some of them. It’s just that the most vocal and aggressive of them can act very entitled and as if their endgame ship gives them some kind of moral high ground in the fandom. In other words, if you can’t see the superiority of AkiHaru, there must be something wrong with you.

The reason why I have developed such a strong disliking of AkiHaru is precisely because of the way the AkiHaru fandom behaves. In my time of being in the fandom, AkiHaru has gone from neutral “meh” to a NOTP to me. And that development is why I realized I was rereading the AkiHaru story in such a half-assed way. The canon story of AkiHaru evokes the same frustration, anxiety, and “ugh” reaction in me as the AkiHaru shippers do, and I end up barely being able to read the panels through.

But trying to answer this question made me realize that I haven’t been fair. It’s not right that I’m not giving the ship a fair chance just because I associate it with the fandom. The fandom does have a big role in how people view something in canon, but it’s ultimately up to me if I lowkey deliberately won’t give something a chance. This behavior also goes against what I personally believe because I think that kind of skewed reading leads to biased interpretations. Despite what my personal interests and biases are, I don’t think I can pick and choose what to acknowledge in canon.

So, I was forced to swallow a somewhat bitter pill and take a good look at myself. I had to almost completely rethink my take on AkiHaru which is why it took me so long to work up to this answer.

Another thing that I realized after all the deliberation was that I might come out as AkiHaru curious at the end of this. After the closing of the Given Facebook group I was a member of, I took a step back from the main fandom. I wanted nothing to do with the constant arguments and bashing anymore. I pitched up a little corner for Ugetsu folks and decided I would be content with that space. It’s a small group and will probably never grow big but at least I won’t have that nervous churn of stomach every time I get a notification from the group.

But I think that step back helped me see AkiHaru better and even get more interested in it. My reaction to it isn’t as clouded with my feelings towards the fandom as it used to be. My guard isn’t as high anymore, and I feel like I can give it a proper chance now. I have had some tickles to even try and write AkiHaru. AkiUgetsu still remains as my OTP for sure, but I’m beginning to get some sparks of inspiration from AkiHaru as well.

I’m sorry for the long explanation but I just wanted to make people reading this know where I’m coming from with AkiHaru. Now, finally to your question!

The main “problem” I have with AkiHaru is that I can’t see much romantic chemistry and depth between them. In my eyes, they pale in comparison to what AkiUgetsu had. AkiHaru is cute and fluffy, but I feel like “cute uwu” is where the conversation begins and ends with them. However, that changed a little to me as I kept deliberating. Their relationship started to gain a few more layers but they still don’t really have the kind of complexity and development that would pull me in. I can see they are in a relationship in the comic but I’m struggling to really feel them.

I think stories involving long-term unrequited love are very tricky to execute well. If A has been one-sidedly in love with B for a long time, it’s difficult to make B return those feelings in a way that feels natural and not forced because of the plot. Especially if that change is from friendship to romantic love. In AkiHaru’s case, I could feel Haruki’s unrequited crush on Akihiko but I’m really struggling to feel Akihiko returning those feelings. He confessed to Haruki in canon, but the process of him gaining and discovering those feelings was lost on me.

I think the one of the biggest reasons for that was the 6-month timeskip Kizu decided to take in chapter 28. I do think Akihiko started to see Haruki in a different, more romantic light during his stay before their CAC performance. But I feel like the mental process of his feelings for Haruki taking shape and strengthening to the point of confessing was lost in the timeskip. Akihiko went from inklings of seeing Haruki in a different light to “I wanted to become a better man for you”, and that change in him was basically covered with a couple of panels of him buying Haruki some coffee.

Now, I do realize there were panels of Haruki talking about Akihiko moving out, quitting his part-time jobs, spending more time practicing the violin, and “acting strangely”, but all of that is telling instead of showing. When it comes to something as big as Akihiko going through all that change – the biggest issue I always have with these kinds of stories about unrequited love – the story needs to show the development to me, not tell me.

So, if there was one thing I would have changed in AkiHaru, it would have been that timeskip. I would have loved to see inside Akihiko’s head during all that time and actually see the progress of his feelings and resolve. What does he love about Haruki? How does Haruki make him feel? Don’t just skip all of that and make him confess and say that he’s now trying his best for Haruki. If you compare the way Akihiko was made to fall in love with Haruki to how his story with Ugetsu was told to us, the difference is like night and day.

In some ways, I think AkiHaru lacks the development and care that AkiUgetsu and even UeMafu has. As I said in my earlier answer, the direction from AkiUgetsu to AkiHaru makes sense to me and now I can even appreciate it, but even with my new rereading of AkiHaru, the ship doesn’t bring as much to the table as AkiUgetsu did. It’s fluffy and uwu but where is the rest?

I think this also shows in the fandom’s AkiHaru content. I see a lot of fanart of blushing Haruki and posts raving about cute AkiHaru panels, but I’m struggling to find layers in the fluff-fest. What about conflicts in their relationship? What about how will the downsides of both Haruki and Akihiko’s characters affect their relationship? With these questions I’m talking about the fans’ thoughts and ideas. For example, I would be genuinely interested in AkiHaru folks’ headcanons.

This wraps up the AkiHaru part of my answer. I probably upset some people and I apologize for that, but I feel like I needed to address those things. In the end, I got a lot of things off my chest which helped me clear my own feelings towards AkiHaru. I still prefer to keep my distance from the main (AkiHaru) fandom, but I do realize I hadn’t been fair in my judgment of the ship. There are some things that will most probably always sting in my heart, but I think I have gained some new interest in AkiHaru after giving it a proper chance.

“hiiragi and shizu what's your thoughts?”

ShizuRagi isn’t exactly my area of expertise, but I do love the characters and I’m excited to see them becoming canon. To me, ShizuRagi has the kind of depth and complexity that interests me.

Hiiragi is definitely one of my favorite uke characters in all of the BL I have read. It’s so unbelievably refreshing when an uke is shamelessly head over heels for their seme. I love his inner tsundere simping for Shizusumi. I also absolutely love the confidence, energy, and brilliant shine of Hiiragi. To me, he has the vibe and intelligence of a music producer. But despite all the tough confidence, he is also considerate of his surroundings and worries easily.

Overall, ShizuRagi is probably my second favorite ship after AkiUgetsu. I love the complexity of how Shizusumi feels about Hiiragi. I’m drawn to the darkness he seems to carry and what kind of contrast it creates with Hiiragi’s dazzling shine. The overwhelming and at times a bit intimidating devotion he has for Hiiragi but at the same time feeling like he’s being cast aside by Hiiragi/he’s someone who can’t compete for Hiiragi’s love tickles my angst bone. There is this dark energy in him that wants to both cherish Hiiragi’s light but also seal it off just for himself. In some ways, ShizuRagi reminds me of AkiUgetsu but just with a dynamic that is the kind that “fits” an endgame relationship.

So, yes, double thumbs up for ShizuRagi development!

Thank you for your questions! They proved to be difficult for me on a personal level, but I’m glad I went through that process. Also, thank you for your endless patience waiting for me to get my thoughts sorted out!

[pickledbeefwastaken]

The Unending Kindness & Patience of Dave Katz - CHAPTER TWO

New chapter below the cut!

Chapter 1 here:

(TW: vomiting, mentions of prostitution, mentions of domestic violence)

Klaus had figured out three more important things about Dave by the time he’d made it out the front doors of the hospital:

1. He was very trusting—naively so.

2. He was surprisingly hard to ruffle

2. He was really fucking beautiful.

Klaus had figured out three more important things about Dave by the time he’d made it out the front doors of the hospital:

He was very trusting—naively so.

After Dave suggested that Klaus should let Dave cut his hair for him, he’d gone on to further suggest that he come to his house for him to do this. Klaus. Klaus, who’d come stumbling into his arms with a head wound and had taken scissors to his head within five minutes of waking up. Klaus, who had only been half dressed and shoeless. Klaus, with track marks all up and down his arms. Klaus, who had hissed at Ben, who was very much invisible to anyone but him, right in front of Dave.

Dave had also left Klaus alone in the room while he went to get a nurse, figuring that Klaus would stay put and stay laying down like he asked him to (he hadn’t). Before Dave could come back from getting a nurse, Klaus was up on his feet and stumbling out of the room. He snuck quickly down the hall, managing to make his way almost entirely to the front doors before, to his utter bad luck, he ran quite literally into fucking DAVE. He’d caught Klaus and asked him why he was out of bed, and when Klaus told him he needed to go, Dave had just nodded and followed him outside.

He was surprisingly difficult to ruffle.

Dave hadn’t even asked why Klaus wanted to leave so bad. He’d just looked at Klaus and his wide, panicky eyes and took his elbow like there was nothing weird about any of this and helped guide him outside. He hadn’t gotten defensive when Klaus had snapped at him earlier, he hadn’t seemed too terribly weirded out by Klaus’s hair cutting stunt or the way his eyes drifted to seemingly empty spots in the room.

He was really fucking beautiful.

Dave’s expression had been surprised when he caught Klaus by the biceps as they ran into each other, big blue eyes looking into Klaus’s own. He’d smiled at him with dazzling white teeth, he let Klaus hold his strong arm for support as he led him outside and while Klaus had more pressing priorities than a hot guy helping him like an obedient service dog, he wasn’t blind, okay?

Now that he’d made his not so sneaky escape from the hospital, his energy was waning quickly. He kept his arm wrapped around Dave’s for support until Dave led him toward a bench to rest. He must have noticed Klaus’s sagging shoulders and labored breathing. While Klaus felt an instinct to do something to resist the kindness he was being shown, he was once again tired and Dave seemed nice and though he knew he shouldn’t trust him, he didn’t feel like he had much fight in him.

“Okay. So, can you tell me why we needed to get out of there so bad?” Dave asked, voice so stupidly, perfectly patient that Klaus looked at him like he suspected he might actually be an alien under all that perfect skin.

Klaus blew out a breath and leaned back against against the cool concrete, eyes shifting nervously to the doors of the hospital.

“Because I don’t have health insurance and if they figure out who I am, they’ll call my emergency contact who I was supposed to remove but I haven’t exactly gotten around to that yet,” he said honestly, “Plus, I really hate hospitals.”

He didn’t snark or joke or use any of his usual defenses to skirt around the truth. Maybe Dave would try to march him right back inside, but either way, he wasn’t in much of a position to fight if Dave wanted to take him anywhere right now.

Dave nodded slowly, “Okay. I can understand that. The doctors said that you had a pretty good concussion, but beyond that and the stitches, you’re probably okay. I’m sure they would want to check you out one more time before you leave, but that’s your choice.”

Klaus knew Dave was right—the doctors would check him again and take forever doing it and making him suffer in there for hours until they finally signed discharge forms and that’s assuming they’d let him leave without paying or at least giving a name so they could bill him later. Klaus shook his head. Concussions could be treated at home—they sucked, he remembered a particularly nasty one Diego had gotten after a mission gone wrong as kids, but it’d been fine to handle at home.

“No, I just need to get rid of this hair,” He said, leaning forward.

The shakes were setting in, making his hands tremble. He pressed them between his knees in an effort to still them. His spine and shoulders and hips ached in a bone-deep sort of way. Okay, so he needed to get rid of his hair and get a pretty good-sized score, one big enough to stave off his withdrawal with enough leftover to offer to Pete as a means to get back inside. Where was he going to find that though? He was half-dressed and most of his belongings were back at Pete’s. He had no money, no nothing, nothing worth trading except for himself, which he didn’t anticipate being easy considering the freshly stitched gash along the side of his head and the dried blood along his face and torso.

Okay, so he needed to cut his hair, take a shower, and then figure out a way to get money that didn’t involve prostitution. He couldn’t trust people not to be too rough with him right now, not when he was too weak to defend himself or endure much rough-housing. He was in so much pain that he was pretty sure he wasn’t even capable of getting it up right now, not that it was really a requirement. Still. Prostitution was probably out.

He saw the sun barely glimmering above the horizon, signaling the last of the daylight hours. Once he had managed to get his hair short enough and maybe even had talked Dave into letting him take a shower, that still left him on his own in the streets in the middle of the night. By the time he managed to steal something, the pawn shops would be closed. Dealers weren’t usually too keen on trades that didn’t involve sexual favors, so he wouldn’t be able to trade up until morning, which means that he didn’t have anywhere to go tonight. Shit, he’d be sleeping outside. He should have grabbed one of those hospital blankets on his way out, or at least a towel, something.

This was all making his brain hurt, trying to figure out how he was going to get through the night and it made him feel frustrated and angry and desperate. He kept his eyes down on his hand where they were pressed between his knees. He didn’t realized he was crying out of frustration until a fat, hot tear landed on his wrist.

“Alright then, I’ll help you get it cut. Come on,” Dave said patiently, standing and offering his hands to Klaus.

Klaus swiped quickly at his eyes and took Dave’s hands, grunting as he was hauled up to his feet, very carefully not meeting Dave’s eyes. He’d probably noticed his tears, but Klaus was hoping he’d do the macho, polite thing and let them mutually pretend the tears weren’t happening.

“Shit. Hey, it’s okay.” Well fuck, no such luck.

Klaus pulled his hands out of Dave’s grip and turned more bodily away from him, signaling that he really was not wanting to talk about it. He took off walking, steps smaller than usual, feeling stiff and woozy and to be honest, he had no idea what direction he was stumbling off into. Dave was back at his elbow after a few paces, touching with just his fingertips, more hesitant after Klaus had torn his hands from Dave’s.

“Okay, hey. Come on, this way.” Dave said, nodding his head in the opposite direction.

Klaus stopped and let out an irritated breath, but turned and walked in the direction Dave was indicating.

“You don’t even know where he’s taking you Klaus. You need to call Diego.” Ben said at Klaus’s side.

Klaus wasn’t having this argument again. He swung a hand weakly in the direction of the voice, ‘shh’-ing harshly and waving Ben off. He was too tired to deal with Diego’s shit, too tired to try to do any of this himself, too tired to care if Dave drugged him or held him down or tied him up or killed him, he was just too tired. The thought of having to go through so much tonight, sleeping outside, having to figure out what to steal and then actually successfully stealing said thing, pawning it, finding a dealer, and getting back to Pete’s while concussed and also beginning withdrawals sounded like Hell so he didn’t care what Dave did to him. It couldn’t be worse, could it?

Dave led him into the parking garage and Klaus followed, having to remind himself periodically to keep his eyes open. Before Klaus knew it, he was standing in front of a car and Dave was opening a door for him. He wasn’t sure that he remembered the entire walk over. He let muscle memory take over, the familiar motion of lifting one leg into the car and leaning down to sit being executed, but he manage to smack his forehead on the frame of the car before he made it in. Klaus gasped in pain, both hands flying to press against his forehead as shooting heat seared through his head accompanied by a throbbing ache that felt like it might burst through his skull. His knees buckled instantly and he went down.

He was caught just before hitting the ground by Dave’s arms under his armpits. The jolt from the catch alone sent another wave of pain through Klaus’s head and he nearly dry-heaved, though he wasn’t sure if it was because of the dizziness, the withdrawal, or the pain.

“Woah, woah, careful. I’m sorry, here. Let me help,” Dave said, voice gentle.

Klaus didn’t fight, he was boneless as he let Dave guide him into the car, with Dave taking more of his weight than was probably fair. He kept his eyes squeezed close and curled up in  the seat. He was vaguely aware of tears on his cheeks, so he pressed both palms over his eyes, hiding his face against his knees  as he breathed through the pain. It took another moment to register that Dave’s hand was on his calf, thumb rubbing slow, soothing circles there.

“Are you okay?” Dave asked softly.

Klaus sniffled and wiped his face before he opened tired eyes and looked at him, nodding minutely.

“Yeah. Just hurts,” he breathed.

Dave nodded and let go of Klaus’s leg, standing up from where he’d been crouched and though it was ridiculous and a testament to how messed up Klaus must be, he missed the touch. It had been kind and comforting and it wasn’t the kind of touch he often received.

Dave only moved a little though, opening the back door to reach in and grab something before returning to crouch beside Klaus. He shook out a warm, flannel-lined denim jacket and draped it over Klaus’s bare torso, tucking it up under his chin. Klaus just curled into it, pulling his bare feet up onto the seat to tuck under the coat too, feeling the ache in his spine that told him that the chills would be starting soon. He closed his eyes and tucked his face down into the collar, noting the scent. It was warm and soft and comforting and delicious and it made Klaus sigh in relief, snuggling in further. He was more comfortable than he’d remembered being in a long time.

“Thanks, Dave,” Klaus breathed.

He felt a hand ruffle his hair gently and then something wrap around him and click—a seatbelt, he realized—and then the door closed, the sound making Klaus whimper. Dave got in the driver’s seat and closed his door, again making Klaus stiffen and grunt. The car was started and then they were moving, which was awful, absolutely nauseatingly awful, but Dave turned the heater on and that felt nice and it’d grown dark out, so that was nice too.

He did his best to let his thoughts be lulled by the movement of the car, breathing in the scent at the collar of Dave’s jacket. He didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until he was being woken by a hand on his knee. He jerked, opening his eyes blearily under the wash of the car’s interior lights. His eyes found Dave and he relaxed a little.

“Sorry. We’re here, you doing okay?” Dave asked, voice gentle and patient as he removed his hand from Klaus’s knee.

Klaus nodded at first, but then felt a rolling sensation in his stomach and jolted a little, hands scrabbling for the seatbelt. He quickly amended his reaction into a shake of his head, a little too frantic, which hurt his head all over again and sent bile rising up his throat. It took two tries to get the belt unbuckled.

“Gonna be sick,” he breathed, scrambling out of the car like a baby deer on ice, thankfully caught by Dave.

Dave helped him to his feet and led him quickly the two steps to the grass just in time for Klaus to heave. His knees buckled, but Dave caught him yet again with an arm around his waist, supporting his weight. The press of the arm against his abdomen only made him heave again, harder this time. There wasn’t really anything in his stomach, but he spit out whatever stomach acid had risen, breathing hard through the spinning sensation that followed.

“F-fuck. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Dave,” he said, voice quivering.

“No, no need to apologize. It’s okay. Are you alright? Let’s get you upstairs and I’ll get you some water,” Dave said patiently—always so patient.

Klaus nodded, feeling a little more settled—still shaky and a bit nauseous and dizzy, but he didn’t think he was going to throw up again. Dave let Klaus go when he seemed confident Klaus could hold his own weight, returning to the car to close the door before coming back to Klaus’s side.

“Alright, let’s get you cleaned up, huh?” Dave said kindly, placing his hand against Klaus’s elbow in a gesture that was quickly becoming familiar.

[jebazzled]

should you open a site?

Hi there! If you've been around the block a time or two in rp, you've probably thought about opening a site of your own - or maybe you've already given it a go. How did it go?

Mixed reviews, yeah?

Here's the thing: the Venn Diagram of people who want to staff a site & people who are well-suited to staffing a site actually has very little overlap. You probably should not open a site, or if you are going to, you should make sure you're doing it in a way you can sustain and for the right reasons.

In today's tutorial, we're going to unpack the reasons people are drawn to staffing - both good reasons and bad reasons - as well as the things that most frequently close sites. Hopefully, this will give you some good shit to think about next time you get that itch. You know the one.

Before we launch into some troubleshooting, I'd like to talk about staffing more broadly, and why it should matter to you whether you are doing a good job.

Of course, it's important to do a good job managing your site so that it has some longevity, builds a positive community, and becomes a place that people enjoy spending time.

But it is also important to remember that

when you staff a site, the site becomes part of your reputation.

The roleplay community is both very large and very small - there are always people you've never met before, but there are also always people around who you recognize. Stick around long enough, and you start to see people who always seem to be buzzing a project that doesn't open. You see people who are always staff searching. You see people who habitually buzz, open, and ghost two or three or more projects a year.

Maybe you are one of those people.

Folks notice, dude. There are a number of folks in the rp community who I am sure are perfectly nice, but whose sites I will never join, because I know from observation that they will ghost or formally close the site within three months.

No one will straight up tell you, "hey, you have a reputation for being super flaky." But it might be why you have a hard time filling a staff search. It might be why a buzz or opening is lackluster. It might be why none of your members seem to be super committed to your site: they assume you, too, are not very committed to your site.

It is in your best interests for future projects that your current projects go well. So you should consider carefully, before asking a dozen or more people to invest their time and creative energy towards your site, whether you will be able to sustain the project.

A lot of people treat staffing a site as the inevitable next step when you've been in rp a long time, and that is simply not the case. Staffing isn't about having ideas or talent. Staffing is about project management.

Staff don't need plot and lore ideas: you can crowdsource these from members.

Staff don't need coding or graphics skills: you can commission these from creators in resource communities.

Staff don't even need to be excellent writers.

Staff need to be able to set goals and achieve them, delegate and accomplish tasks, mediate conflict, and manage and recalibrate expectations. This is, of course, very unsexy, and often is tedious: updating claims, monitoring activity, engineering and executing events. I think a lot of people remember what a fucking pain it is to do ads all the time and it's the first thing they stop doing, which then means they don't have new blood to replace the folks who joined and ghosted after the buzz, and then the site dies. None of it is open heart surgery, but all of it is at least somewhat important.

If you don't want to do the boring day-to-day work of staffing, you shouldn't staff! Members on site don't have to do that shit, and also get to opt out on the emotionally exhausting work of conflict mediation, app review, etc. You can be a longtime roleplayer who never staffs. It's allowed.

But you want to open a site. Or you have opened sites and it's been underwhelming. For whatever reason, you're here. So sure. Let's talk about opening sites.

Reasons to open a site

There are lots of reasons why someone might want to open a site. Some reasons are better than others, with the broad distinction that writing-centric reasons are generally much stronger reasons to open a site than psychology-driven reasons.

GOOD REASON: Control

If the pro of not running a site yourself is the lack of responsibility, the con is the lack of control. Being a member means you're dependent on admins to keep the site open - and we've all been in situations where the staff of a site lost interest before we did. Being a member also means being at the mercy of the staff for plot, lore, and etc, depending on your community. On a "member-driven" site you might feel more empowered to have a hand in the worldbuilding - but if the staff decides to double down on the one subplot you thought was stupid and boring, you're left navigating having a good time by yourself.

Opening a site because you want to be able to rely on the site's availability and attractiveness to you for your own writing needs isn't a bad reason to open a site. After all, we build the community and the environment we want to see. So if you don't like something in a writing community, and it's not something you can work with staff to fix - it might make sense to build a community that does fill those needs.

GOOD REASON: Ideas

"Having ideas" is, in my opinion, the least important thing when it comes to staffing. But it can be a reason to open a site of your own! If you have a fictional world you can't find elsewhere, or a really specific overarching plot idea, or a rich vision of lore, it might be easier for you to develop your own playground for these ideas than to bend them to fit an existing site.

BAD REASON: Control

"JB, JB, how can it be two things at once?" Because! Haven't we all been on sites where the admin staff were on a major power trip? When admins start making decisions for members and against a member's wishes, whether it be for character progression or plot development, admins are being unreasonable and demanding. Remember: this is a collaborative hobby. If you can't handle the idea of a member writing something without your eyes on it, you are likely getting too invested in having power over what other people write, and you need to back way off.

BAD REASON: Influence/Importance

Writing is such a personal and intimate thing, and it becomes so easy to get too emotionally invested in how people write or don't write with you. We all know people in the rp community who base their sense of self around rp (I go in on it at length in my troubleshooting tutorial here). These are the people who will have 5 characters accepted within a week of joining, with 20 threads written with 2/3 of the site's members, and who will leave in a tearful hurry within a month saying they feel excluded.

Do you feel Seen?

If you are relying on rp to tame your insecurities, it is never going to work. Staffing a site, claiming the most important canons, and having your hands in every subplot won't automatically make you the most popular person on the site. And even if it did? You would still be insecure, because that is some shit you have to work through offline, dude.

Do not open a site because you think being the admin will make you feel important/popular/beloved. It is not about whether or not you actually are included or excluded in a community - until you unpack your insecurity and your sense of constantly being overlooked or excluded, you could plot with literally every character combination possible and you wouldn't be happy.

If you are wanting to staff because you like to feel special/important/etc, the problem is not the site. It is you. You are never going to get that fulfillment from staffing a site.

You need to work through this without the pressure of running a site.

Why do you want to open a site? Is it for a good reason, or a bad reason? Is it just because you feel like you should? I shouldn't have to tell you that that is a stupid reason.

Opening a site for the wrong reason is a losing proposition.

If you open a site because you want tight creative control, you are going to frustrate your writers, who will likely go elsewhere to write more freely. If you open a site because you want to feel important, you're going to take it very personally when people get mad at you for admin things like denying their apps, handling their interpersonal conflicts with impartiality, or turning down their proposition to turn your Harry Potter site into a Harry Potter/Doctor Who crossover.

If people feel driven out by your power-hungry attitude and rigidity, your site's activity will die, and it will get harder to recruit new people, and it will fizzle out until you either ghost or tell your four remaining members that you're throwing in the towel.

If you feel personally attacked by the thankless work of staffing, you will emotionally burn out, and likely either ghost your own site, or close it. If you are a person prone to lashing out, you might first encounter massive interpersonal drama.

If you are going to open a site, do it for the right reason.

Reasons to close a site

Let's also talk a little about those of us who have opened sites before. Most of us - if not every single one of us - have also closed a site. Sites close for a lot of reasons, and they aren't all admin's fault: a site is, after all, a community. Sometimes the community loses interest, grows apart, or otherwise dissipates. But it is true that staff sets the tone, and that ultimately, staff are who decide to put the board offline.

So maybe you've closed a site. Maybe you're one of the people I mentioned earlier who buzzes, opens, and closes three sites a year. Let's take a good, hard look at why your site closed. It might be a good reason not to open a site again - at least not until you figure out your root issue.

Time

One of the most common reasons why admins will close a site is a lack of time. Real life gets too busy, and the grind of keeping the site up is just too much. It happens! RP is no one's real job. Everyone has a real life.

Not having time to staff won't necessarily be a nail in your reputation's coffin. But it is a reason that you should take into account next time you have the itch to staff.

Some situations are more understandable than others, as far as scheduling goes. For example, if you open a site the summer after graduation when you have a lot of time, and then realize how time-consuming job-hunting is, you might close your site to make time. If you open a site while sitting comfortably at a low-stress job and then you switch to a fast-paced, customer-facing position, you might have less energy and less downtime for the site. If you opened a site when your kid went to grade school, and now you're homeschooling them during the pandemic, you simply might not have time anymore.

The commonality here? A circumstance changed, and the person living the circumstance didn't expect the change. It was a surprise.

By contrast, if you're a tax accountant, you know when your busy season is, and it would be stupid and irresponsible for you to open a site in December knowing that you're about to be bogged down in tax season until April. If you're a school teacher, you know that the start of the year is a whirlwind, and it would be stupid and irresponsible to open a site on the first day of school. If you know that normally your workload doesn't even allow you time to participate on a site as a member, it would be ridiculous for you to open a site during a two-week slow period.

You can close a site because you're too busy for it. You can do it again, a couple of years later. But if you make a habit of doing it - and doing it often - people are going to notice that you just don't have time for the sites you want to open.

I remember being on a site several years ago that closed seemingly without warning. The staff said they didn't have time to run the site anymore, a claim I took at face value - until a month later, when they opened a new project.

I remember being deeply annoyed: either they had been dishonest about the reason for the site's closure, or they were stupid enough to think that a month-long lull was reason enough to expect to be able to maintain a site. If you are too busy to keep your site open, that is fine - but you then shouldn't open another site until you have been distinctly not-busy for a while.

You can take steps to mitigate time constraints, on your next project: you might build out your site's world and administrative process around what tasks you can automate with scripts and etc, to minimize the amount of administrative tasks you need to do. You might go no-app to skip another task. If you're a person who experiences time-blindness, and you have no idea how long you spend on any task, you will need to deliberately select your staff based on their ability to execute tasks on time and efficiently in ways that you cannot.

Staffing may also just not be for you! And there is nothing wrong with that.

Burnout

You might find yourself worn down with the grind of staffing: the ads, the claims, the app review, the mediating conflict, the way your own writing can often come last. The concessions you might make to plots you'd like to do in the interest of pleasing the greater site community. Etc. It's a lot, and it's a thankless job.

And it's always going to be like that. You can counter some of the things that suck up your time - automate claims, go no-app, narrow down your advertising to a tiny list of blogs and servers rather than a dozen directories - but staffing is always going to be, at times, exhausting and thankless. If it's too exhausting and thankless to be worth sticking around - that's fine! But you can't keep being surprised that staffing is like this. It isn't really a realization you can have more than maybe twice, and it's not a realization you can keep having at two months in and expect it not to be a sticking point.

Premature Death Calls

Listen: your site is not dying two weeks after the site buzz. The swarm of activity when you opened was an artificial high caused by bottlenecking your membership intake. Keep posting your ad after your site opens to keep new members coming in so even when your site buzz population moves on to the next buzz, you've got members there. Don't throw in the towel too early, Denise!

Boredom

Unlike the above, where site buzz members move on to the next buzz because they're always chasing the next big thing, you being bored with your site is a potential reason to close. After all, you're the one putting in the time and energy. If you're not vibing with it, it's not like the community is entitled to you keeping the site open as charity work.

But similarly to the time reasoning: this is a rationale you can only use sparingly.

If you have a habit of losing interest on an idea, you should not be opening sites. It is one thing to misjudge your interest and its longevity once. But if you do it two or three times a year - it's a pattern, and you shouldn't ask a dozen or more people to invest their creative energy into something if you know there's a strong possibility you'll lose interest within a few months.

(It will not be different this time, dude. It is never different.)

Drama

Any community of people is not without conflict. Sometimes, the conflict gets to be too much, and whether your members scatter to avoid it or you close to be done with it - it's worth evaluating if it happens more than once. If site drama keeps closing your site, the call might be coming from inside the house.

If you came on staff because you wanted to feel special and important: you are likely causing some of the drama. When you take it so personally whether or not people write with you, how much they write with you, etc, you are setting up for your expectations to 1) be unreasonable 2) to not be met.

If you came on staff because you like control, you might be too rigid, and your controlling and unyielding approach to your site may be driving your members away.

If every site you run closes due to drama, you might look at their common denominator. What behavior do you exhibit that might be unwelcoming, abrasive, or toxic?

(Linkin Park voice) Breaking the habit

People notice, if you are constantly opening sites that die after two months. RP is a weird atmosphere where two things are constant:

Sites often have a shelf life of 2-4 months before they die either due to admin neglect, lack of new membership, or infighting with the existing members

Sites are often being launched by the same people over and over again

Which is to say, I think some of us in the resource/admin chat space tend to think of early site death as a problem of member attention - people being drawn away from existing sites by new and shiny buzzes. This is true to an extent - but I think we latch onto it because it absolves us of the truth that some admins are not just bad admins, but habitual bad admins.

To be clear, I don't mean that they are nasty people - just that they have a track record of not being great at keeping a site open. But just as some people are perennial site hoppers - some admins are perennial site starters, and that doesn't seem to be something talked about with as much depth as site hoppers. And perennial site starters feed the site hopper problem: if the perennial site starter wasn't opening a new buzz every two months, the site hopper wouldn't have a new flashy thing to get instant gratification on, would they? They would need to do some more long term plotting and character development.

I've staffed my site for two and a half years now, and the relief of having a space with such longevity is incredible. Because my community trusts that the site isn't going to close on a whim, people invest in long-term plots - for example, when we polled members in March asking if they wanted a specific event to happen in the spring or in the fall, an overwhelming majority opted for fall. Six months out, six months to plot and thread and worldbuild - on so many other sites, it would feel risky to count on anything that far in advance.

Wouldn't it be nice to have more stability in the rp world? More opportunity for deeper plotting and character development, slow burn plots that are legitimately slow to burn, the satisfaction of executing a plot years in the making. We can have that, if we focus less on having a vast number of short-lived sites and more on building sustainable, welcoming communities that allow for ebb and flow without going straight to closure any time there's a slow or difficult period. We can have that, if we're more thoughtful in our staffing - even if it means not staffing at all.

I hope this tutorial was helpful to you! As always, feel free to drop your requests for future tutorials in my askbox. In the meantime, all best, and happy writing!

[writinginthedarkwood]

I had an idea for an OC if you want it. A woman/girl with a love quirk that makes it so anyone who looks her in the eyes falls madly in love with her with like everything that comes with it whether it be lust or possessiveness or snuggles and the person under her quirk is just the maxed out version of themself in love. She doesn’t intentionally use her quirk because she learned really quick how awkward it is to look at someone and them to propose so she wears a blind fold everywhere.

You didn't say who your favorite character was.... so I picked someone for you 🥰

Shoto Todoroki x Reader: Eye Love You.

“What a pretty little girl.” Your mother beamed with pride as the man smiled down at you. You were five, around the same age as all the other children who started developing their quirks when the first incident happened. Your mother and father felt like they had no reason to be concerned about your future powers. Your mom was a gentle heart, who could ease people's anxieties with a soft touch. Your father had piercing golden eyes that could see into the hearts of people, and find out who they loved the most. Both unique quirks, but nothing incredibly powerful. So when you woke up with the same liquid golden pools one morning, they were happy. You had hidden behind your mother's legs that afternoon, and she pushed you to say thank you to the man. “T-thank you.” You stuttered out, looking up to see the wrinkled face of the older gentleman. The man staggered back, gripping his head like he was in pain. “Sir are you alright?” Your mother asked, reaching out to touch him with her hand. He quickly stood up straight with a pained look on his face. “How much to marry your daughter? I have my check book right here!” He tried to grab your mother’s shoulders, she reeled back in horror, the shouting man starting to draw a crowd. “What are you talking about?” She picked you off of the ground and held you tightly to her chest. “Get away from us!” A patrolling hero strolled over to help, placing himself between the two of you and the increasingly more aggressive man. “Please mam, I love her! I’ll pay you any amount if you just give her to me!” The hero ended up escorting the man away, taking him into police custody as the man started to fight. 

Your parents have never outwardly said to you, that they fear your power. They didn’t have too. “See Y/N, we got you masks in every pretty color. This one even has sequins.” Your father said, trying to convince you to wear your blind fold. “But papa I don’t wanna wear a mask over my eyes...” You whined and cried, but eventually it became routine to wear an eye covering everywhere you went. You got fairly good at navigating the world without being able to see fully. Your eye coverings blurred the world, but didn’t completely darken it. 

Lost in thought you were startled by someone brushing past you sort of harshly, their shoulder shoving you to the side and forcing you to slam against the locker. “Ow!” You couldn’t tell who had pushed you so rudely, they continued to walk away without much of a glance in your direction. 

“Hey you!” A lower voice you hadn’t heard before called out from behind you to the person who gave you a push. “What?” The shover called back, annoyed. “You hurt this girl and didn’t say excuse me.”  “So?” 

“So you should apologize.” The voice was monotone, but stern. 

“Or what?” The bully sneered. A softer voice, like the person was trying to whisper spoke up. “Hey didn’t you know that’s Endeavors kid?” 

Endeavor’s son? You’d heard of him, but you’d think he would be too busy to stop and help someone from the Management class. “Hey man look, I don’t want any trouble but she was walking too slow. Sorry or whatever-” The kid said before shuffling off. 

“Are you alright?” Todoroki turned to you. You had a few good friends here, but most people generally ignore you. Rumors at your old school flew around that you would curse people who were mean to you, forcing them to fall in love with you and do your every wish. It was frustrating to have people view you in such a negative light, you’d never use your powers on someone on purpose. It was cruel to watch people lose themselves, you could ruin someone’s life with your quirk. Break up a happy home, destroy someone’s relationship in a flash. You’d only ever used your quirk by accident, and hated yourself for it every time.

It was easier not to have anyone too close to you. 

“Yeah, I’m okay. You didn’t have to say anything to him.” You angled your face to the ground, seeing the outline of his shoes. “Where are you heading?” Shoto asked. 

“I’m meeting some students from the support class in the library. We’re all working on a project together.” In management you got to work with a lot of other students at U.A. You might not be the best at punching villains, but you could run numbers and execute ideas in a group setting really well. “I’ll walk you there. I’m heading that direction too.” You didn’t know, but Shoto was actually head the exact opposite way. He had plans to return to his dorm, but for some reason he felt intrigued by you and your strange little mask and decided he would make sure you got to the library without any more trouble. “Oh, well great.” You smiled, feeling a bit shy. 

The next morning you heard a familiar voice call out to you. “Good morning Todoroki. Did you find that book you were looking for?” You asked sweetly. Surprised and happy he greeted you. “What book?” He asked, sounding confused. “The book you said you needed from the library last night, silly.” You giggled. Todoroki hadn’t checked anything out. He lied so you wouldn’t think he was just trying to walk with you. “Truthfully I didn’t really need anything. I just wanted to make sure nobody else bothered you.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. He spent the entire night tossing and turning, picturing your lovely cheekbones and smile. “That’s very heroic of you, but I can handle myself.” 

“I’m sure you can. Can I walk you to class?” 

Everyday, Todoroki would wait for you and walk you to your classroom. Much to the jealousy of a few girls who felt a little obsessed with the quiet fire prince. He didn’t seem to care, or even really notice how popular he was. It took a few weeks, but he started to open up more of his personality for you to see. Making a few jokes, laughing a bit at your witty and sarcastic comments. You were both similar in the way that it took some chipping down to open up about things. The two of you sat outside in the sunshine, feeling the beautiful spring air in your hair. “My mom always loves the flower blossoms this time of year.” Shoto said quietly, he had his hands clasped tightly together in his lap as the two of you relaxed on a bench. “I wish I could see them. They smell beautiful.” Shoto was quiet for a moment. “Well why don’t you take your blind fold off? I’ll watch for anyone walking by.” 

Your heart lurched, this always happened. The closer you got with someone, the more comfortable they were being around you. It’s dangerous to not be on your toes, you thought. “I wish I could Shoto.” 

Without saying anything he loosened the knot on the back of your head, the thin cloth falling into your lap. You quickly covered your face with a gasp. “Shoto! That’s not funny.” You felt panic rise in your chest. “I need you to look away while I put it back on. I’m serious.” 

“I would never pull a prank on you. Do you trust me?” He said softly. Shoto reached out and gently took your hand and pulled it off of your face. He lead your chin to look his direction with his finger. You had your eyes shut tightly still. “Open your eyes Y/N. Please, I want you to see my face.” 

You wanted to cry. “Shoto, I can’t control my quirk.” 

“Do you trust me?” 

“I-I do.” You said meekly. 

“Then please, open your eyes.” 

He was beautiful. You had imagined what he looked like for weeks now, but you never thought he would look so lovely. Your heart lurched seeing the scarred patch of skin on his face. Your awe was quickly smothered by a wave of panic. “Shoto I’m so sorry, are you okay?” You reached out and grabbed his face, looking for any signs of a change in him.

“I feel perfectly fine Y/N. I promise.” He gave you the sweetest, slight smile. 

“Wait... does my quirk not work on you...?” You asked confused. 

“It doesn’t have too.” He leaned in, closing the space between you two and planting a soft kiss on your lips. He pulled away, admiring your stunned expression. “I already love you.”

[afoolforatook]

I liked your post on Qrow and grief. I think 99% of rwby discourse is people being upset with writers choices and handling of characters vs being defensive of character actions as commentary on real world situations. Like most Adam discourse is between the writers decision to make a civil rights leader an abusive villain vs people noting that abusers can and do hijack social justice movements. One is anger at the writers not the character the other is concern about the character not the writers.

Thanks (sorry, I just forget asks exist sometimes....oops)

Honestly, I avoid discourse as much as possible (the tiniest bit of possible conflict makes me feel physically ill, thnks rsd, which is why I never really actively participated in fandom as a creator before FG) so I can’t say much on other issues such as Adam, but I can see that. 

I think the issue usually starts when there’s a disconnect between understanding characters and their actions in the context of the world and story, and the context of why the writers choose to frame things the way they do. 

Which personally, is where most of my own frustration comes from about RWBY’s writing. Because there is so much of it that is genuinely brilliant, deep, powerful storytelling that has all the building blocks for some important subversive storylines, and has such amazing attention to detail and thought put behind it, but then doesn’t always get developed consistently enough to pull it all together with the appropriate tone/intent. We know they can do such powerful things with all the potential they set up, so when it falls flat, for reasons that seem like inconsistent direction and intent, or narrow understanding of complicated topics, or just plain sloppy oversight, it can be really disappointing

Grief is one of those topics that I take very seriously when it comes to how it is portrayed in media, and it’s something I hope to be able to be a part of creating better realistic representation for. So many people believe they understand grief because they’ve seen it in movies and shows and books that rarely show it in all its complexity and diversity. And so when they see characters, and even real people, grieving in ways that don’t fit that mold, that may seem callous or toxic from an outside perspective, it can feel like poor writing or characterization. Because we as a society don’t talk about grief, not really, not honestly, it makes us uncomfortable. So, through no fault of their own, people don’t understand how that kind of trauma changes how you think, and affects you on a daily basis.

There are a lot of complicated topics that RWBY has a lot of potential to do important, powerful things with, in how they tell this story. Some they have handled well previously, and some they *really* haven’t.  Mental health, abuse, racism, classism, lgbtq representation, morality, trauma, grief. And I certainly won’t say any single one of those is more important than any other. 

But, personally, grief is the one that will hit me hardest if they mishandle it. There will be other places to turn for diverse, informed, meaningful narratives about all those other topics, and of course the same is true for grief. I certainly don’t want to have those topics mishandled in RWBY, and RT and CRWBY have a responsibility to put in the work to avoid that and to admit when they don’t, and if all of those things were just horrendously mishandled it would be upsetting and infuriating, but in the end, there would be other material, other, diverse, creators to turn to. 

But RWBY is in a (certainly not completely unique, but fairly rare) special position when it comes to showing the place that grief in all its complexities has in storytelling. And how, in turn, storytelling can play a huge part in helping people process their own grief.  

Because RWBY is a story, a world, created by a man (of color) who died far too young, and whose legacy is now carried on by his friends and family (and a company that, while certainly popular and well known in its niche, is by no means mainstream). They know grief. And they have a rare opportunity —with a story perfectly built to address this kind of narrative— to be able to provide others who are grieving with a complex, inspiring, empowering reflection of their experiences, which are so often absent, or oversimplified, or treated as shock factor or tear-jerkers in media. 

For most other projects in that kind of situation (sudden loss of a young creator, a creator of color, not already backed by a huge production company, with not only story and animation development to work on, but a unique soundtrack that is one of the things at the core of the show’s appeal imo), the story would have most likely been abandoned after the creator’s death. Roosterteeth, and RWBY, certainly have a not insignificant following now (and even did to a lesser extent, at the time of Monty’s death, less than six months after the end of volume 2) but RWBY was still pretty new, not nearly as popular as it is now. I watched the first volume when it was brand new, and I think the start of volume 2, but then didn’t come back to it until the end of volume 6, so I don’t know for sure what things were like in both the fandom and production following Monty’s death. But I am sure that RWBY’s survival is due to tremendous work and dedication and love for Monty and his creation. Volume 7 ended on the fifth anniversary of Monty’s death, and regardless of your opinion on the quality of the show over that time, the fact that it has come this far at all is almost miraculous. 

For a story, and a team, so well suited for this point of view, to not simply ignore the topic (as so many writers do, aka one tribute episode and then it’s like it never happened), but to actually address it, only to fail to do it true, honest, important, justice, would be (at least personally) devastating. 

None of this is to say that because of their grief, or in order to ‘properly’ honor Monty, CRWBY was obligated to make grief an important part of this narrative, especially so soon after a loss and in a project where it is impossible to separate their feelings for the story from their grief over Monty. They did not owe us, or ‘Monty’s memory’, their personal trauma. Not everyone wants or needs to put their grief in their work. To have decided to gloss over that narrative thread and aspect of character growth, or included it but never make it a main theme, would, admittedly, still have been somewhat disappointing, but understandable given the circumstances. 

But they didn’t do that. They gave it a prominent role. (Also admittedly not as much as I would have liked at times, but still much more than plenty of other stories) In the music, in the symbolism, in the character development, in the main plot. Grief, in multiple manifestations, is a huge part of RWBY. I am immensely grateful for that, and regardless of the issues I have and may have in the future, that is something that will always be very important to me. 

But, in making that choice, they gave themselves an obligation to follow through. To consciously make grief a complex part of multiple characters’ narrative, and then fumble the execution and turn that pain into cheap shock factor or poorly framed justification is, in my eyes, an irresponsible failure that could work to only damage the vulnerable people you had gotten to trust you. Especially when it comes in the form of showing a character finally starting to recover, only to get torn down again out of nowhere. 

I’m not saying that this is already a failure in how they’ve handled Qrow’s grief, there’s just too much still to happen to be able to say that or not. But any trust I had in their intentions and narrative direction was destroyed by Ch12 (which is a different topic all together really), so I’ll just have to wait and see.

Ahhhhhh this got wayy too long (and probably not put the best way, oops brain dump.)

[thevirtualcanvas]

To Be Loved By: Ravus

What does it mean to be loved by Ravus Nox Fleuret? 

Ravus Nox Fleuret, line of the Oracle, orphan son of Tenebrae, the love of your life. Of course that last part is a complete secret. No one can know of your intimate relationship, the value you hold to him. No. That would just be another for the Empire to use against him.

It’s not really a surprise that you met him at work, as personal hand maiden to the Tenebraen Prince at the behest of the Niflheim Council. You were part of a carefully selected team of skilled blue collared workers that would take care of his every need while he managed the Country after his Mother’s demise under the Empire’s all seeing eye. You were kindred spirits you thought, as you watched him pour over documents and dalliances. You weren’t meant to be here either, under the heavy thumb of the Empire, your own family tortured and executed for not being a product of Gralea. Bound into servitude by bullies and placed in a cage. Yes, you were both very similar because at the end of a day a cage was a cage no matter how gilded.

Can I get you anything my Lord?

Sharp silver eyes found yours, brows that had been creased in frustration softened, and your heart would skip as soft, thin lips would part in a soft sigh. Just some tea, and perhaps your quiet company?

So you’d sat by diffused lamp light, quiet as a church mouse, watching him as he worked and pondered over the minutia of day to day governance. He would ask for tea, something light to eat, and very occasionally your opinion. It became a routine of yours, at the end of the day while the other staff unwound and gossiped in their quarters, you would sit in his. Or the study. Or the library. A quiet empath, soothing the mental turmoil of this broken Prince. Torn in his duty and split with love for his Country and the love for his sister. You offered thinly disguised comfort, bringing him his favourites without asking, stoking the fire and placing blankets and cushions on the nearest chaise long knowing Ravus would never make it to his own bed. Over these distilled nights you found your fondness for him growing. Yes he was regal, proud, fierce and terrifying but there was gentleness to him. He loved his sister with all his heart, it’s why he did what he did. By extension he loved her personal messenger. When Luna would retire to bed Pryna would come and sleep by his feet, or the open fire if the weather was cool enough. His hand would ghost over the short hair of the messenger dog, scratching her behind the ear as she rested her muzzle on his thigh, doting eyes looking up at the Prince with an unconditional love.

You enjoyed these tender moments amongst the days of servitude and terror. For a moment you were almost away from it all, and in your fantasies it was a moment of domestic bliss. So used to one another’s company words held no meaning. Perfectly content in one another’s company, silly really, but the thought of reaching the end of the day and spending those liminal hours with Ravus kept you going.

One day everything changed, on the 5th anniversary of his Mother’s passing he was particularly sombre. Beyond his public duty he spent the day in isolation, refusing to eat, to see any of the staff, his general’s, even his own sister. You decided to be brave, knowing well what grief could do; so you’d brought his favourite tea and cakes on a silver tray and stood trembling outside of the doors to his private rooms, breathe warming against the lacquered, white doors.

You should go to him, the young Master could do with warmth. He may reciprocate kinder than you expect.

Gentiana appeared from behind you, it happened a lot with the messenger. With a dark elegance she appeared from thin air parting advice and with a soft, almost mischievous smile she would disappear before you had time to register her presence.  So you did. You entered with a timid knock, expecting rage and seeing emptiness. Ravus looked at you from the armchair near the window, dressed in an open shirt and slacks and nothing else. Practically slumming it for him.

Can I get you anything my Lord?

You asked him with a knowing softness in your tone as you placed the tea tray on his desk, heart thrumming in your chest as you approached the dishevelled Prince. Ravus raised from the chair with effort, but certainty as he towered over you, long, carved hands reaching for the soft skin of your heated cheek. His silver eyes housed a lot of pain, remnants of his suffering plain by the blemishes of red and purple on the underside of his eyes.

Your company…

He whispered before he captured your lips for the first time, pulling your body to his, sighing as held you. The sweet relief of being able to touch diluting his anger and grief.

You knew you’d never be a Princess, simply accepting your role as his mistress but finding gratification in the reality of it. Gentiana would give you a knowing look and Lady Lunafreya would act jovial whenever she crossed you in the manor’s halls. Glad for a glimmer of happiness in her tormented brother’s life. She would thank you for your hard work, smile reaching all of the way to her eyes. Hands of the divine would shimmer over yours, not able to full divulge the appreciative  joy that Luna felt for your relationship with her brother.

It has been such a long time since I’ve seen him smile…

She would whisper under breath, trembling, before being ushered away by Gentiana.

Not that Ravus would ever admit anything to anyone, especially Luna. You were his secret. His. Truly it was to keep you safe from prying eyes and Niflheim spies, but Ravus is also possessive. As a Prince he is used to enjoying the finer things in life, and he expects it to be for him exclusively. He’s never affectionate during the day, your roles are too removed and if he’s seen to be softer on you then there will be gossip and gossip leads to discovery. Yet on a night when the world winds down, even for the Empire and his study locked his attention is solely on you. Chasing pleasure and claiming every part of you over and over until you’re left quivering and whimpering his name. Surprisingly Ravus a considerate lover, making sure you’re left satisfied before even thinking about his own end. It’s an interesting dynamic for him, serving someone else before himself. But don’t mistake his serving for you being in control. He will take you whenever he wants to. On his desk, against the window, over the fireplace, in his shower, tied against his bed post. The rooms to make love in might be limited but Ravus is a strategist, he will utilise the space to his advantage.

Then when it’s your turn to please him, you take it slow, lethargically loving your broken Prince, whispering kisses into his marble skin, his strong shoulders and long arms. Running your hands over his beautifully crafted body as regal eyes watch you work. He always grew tired of your ire, impatient with your light affection, but also feeling undeserving.  Eventually Ravus will take charge again until you’re both a panting mess holding onto one another for support.

The only time he allowed you share his bed and stay the night was before the departure to Insomnia. Ravus knew what was ahead for him, and in your heart of hearts so did you. He’d fuck you, guiltily look at you as your writhed under him and then he would repair the damage by smothering you in cool kisses and trembling touches. You feel asleep naked in his arms, feeling truly safe and at home with him. Then woke to him dressed, preparing to leave in the inky dark of morning.

He pressed his forehead to yours, running gloved hands through your hair, nuzzling against your brow as the vestiges of sleep clung to your aching body. So. This was it. You reached for him, fingers connecting, entwining in silver – blonde hair, curling at the base of his neck as tears bubbled in the back of your throat.

Can I get you anything my Lord?

You asked one final time as you held him in your shaking hands, trying to commit him to your every sense.

Ravus smiled, truly. He let out a soft laugh as he failed to keep his own emotions under check. Looking at your red lips, soft form and the way you felt against him, he wanted to remember this forever. A moment of happiness against the tragic backdrop of his life.

Just your love, wait for me my fragile blossom. This will be over soon and I will be back for your hand.

For his final act of love Ravus entranced you with a deep kiss, burying his eternal love in the sweep of his tongue, and press of his lips against yours. You watched at Ravus Nox Fleuret, Prince of Tenebrae and love of your life left, proud and strong and yours, forever.

[macybeckham7]

Olympic Dreams - James Maddison

In the skating world everyone who was anyone was raving about the uprising star that was YN YLN. She was the perfect figure skater, she had grace and elegance along with the strength to do all the difficult jumps and lifts. She was perfect doubles and even better as soloist. Everyone dubbed the 19 year old to be go to the Winter Olympics 2022 and get Team GB atleast two medals.

YN dream for a young age was get into the Olympic program. Wanted to follow in her mother’s footsteps. At a young age she always felt alive on the ice, had no fear and always was the first to try a new move without a thought. Her coach and mother always stood on the sidelines and winced at all the near misses, but she always go up and brushed herself down and tried again. Practice always saw YN the first one on and the last one off.

Her whole life has been dedicated to skating, her eyes on the next upcoming competition and going out their and smashing it. Also being the skater to beat and making a name for herself, people often saying she’s the Serena Williams or Lebron James or CR7 to the figure skating world.

Nine months ago anybody would say YN had her world at her feet, most likely to be on the plane to China with her spot in Team GB. She was in a relationship with James Maddison, who met at an event and they instantly just clicked. With him being an athlete he understood the grind, he understood the rollercoaster of emotions and he just knew she needed him. He would be her medic and always look after her, and he was always her ice bath buddy because ‘nobody deserves to go to hell and back alone’. They were eachothers biggest supporters, they even taught eachother their sport. Her favourite member was getting James onto the ice, he had a strong grip on her waist as they did a two person train, she skated faster as she held onto his hands and all she could hear was him shouting and swearing. Definitely showing her he wouldn’t be hanging up his boots for skates, anytime soon.

Thursday 23rd of September was when YN’s whole world came tumbling down. Rehearsals with the three of them on the ice was normal, the coach telling the pairing where they need to clean up more. While YN and Isaiah listener fully.

James sat high up in the stands and watched eagerly.

He has already been in complete awe when she skates, how elegantly her body moves and the sheer power she has for the jumps. He loved watching her as a soft smile sits on her face as if it just can’t naturally to her.

He felt himself grimace as the pair didn’t do a lift correctly, Isaiah managing to put her down gently as YN put her hands out on the cold surface. The coach called out for them as the duo talked it out before they went from the top. They got through the dance, James smiling like a Cheshire Cat as they managed to nail the one-hand exit with Isaiah holding her above his head.

It all went wrong in a blink of moment without YN falling, her knee caught Isaiah head and she went down cold.

James jumped from him chair and raced down as her coach instantly skating towards her lifeless body.

...

YN felt her heart rate raise as James parked the car in the training rink car park, her mind instantly going back to last time she was here.

‘Hey, you’ve got this’ James says softly as he takes her hand and gently squeezes.

Her eyes water. ‘I don’t think I can’ she whispers.

He could see just how distraught she was and how traumatised she still was. The last nine months have been tough on her as she nursed her injuries and was back on the road of recovery.

‘Hey you are YN fucking YLN, she can do anything she puts her mind too’ he gives her a goofy smile.

He climbs out of the car and walks round to her side, he opens the door for her as she rubs her knee and climbs out. James holds her hand as they walk in together, her eyes look around the training centre where she had so many good memories but all it was painted with painful ones.

In her head she could see hear the ambulance sirens and the medics and James’ voice as they put her in the back to get her to the hospital.

She walked into the changing rooms, she changed in her normal skating outfit her black leotard, her cardigan, her tights, her little skirt and her leg warmers. She took a deep breath as she put on her sparkling white skate boots. She walked to the mirror and looked at herself, if you were to tell her she would be back she would of laughed, with her injuries she thought her dream was over. She ran her fingers through her hair before feeling the scar, she turned her head to see the 4cm war wound.

She quickly tied her hair up and walked, her eyes fell on James, she took the guards off the blades and walked to the edge.

She put her foot out and everything froze. Her breathing fastened as she felt her heartbeat in her stomach. Her eyes scrunched closed as she replayed the moment she hit the ice.

‘So what does that mean?’ James questions the Doctor.

She cleared her throat trying to stop her emotions. ‘It means there’s a 50% chance I could get back to full fitness and an even slimmer chance I could get back in the rink, right?’

The doctor gave her a sympathetic look and nodded. James spoke to the doctor more as YN zoned out. She completely breaking down as the doctor left them.

‘It’s all over J, all my dreams crushed in that moment’ she broke down with James instantly pulling her into a hug.

‘It’s not over, you are YN bloody YLN, you will show everyone that you’ll fight and beat the odds. 50% chance that you’ll get back, no that 100% and you will be at the Olympics’ he confidently. ‘Chilly and I are pretty excited to go to China and you are not getting in the way of that’ he joked making you laugh.

‘Come on’ her coach appeared infront of her. ‘You’ve defeated the odds, don’t let yourself get in the way now’ she puts out her hand which YN takes and gets back on the ice for the first time in nine months.

They skated around the rink, with her coach keeping a close eye on her, she was instantly like duck to water. She still had some stiffness in her knee but she was able to skate. A few weeks went by and her difficulty level of spins and jumps increases, everyone could see that she had lost that sparkle in her eye, it was as if she had put on the safety breaks, and she often looked like bambi on ice.

YN let out a frustrated moan as she puts her hands on her head as she just slides across the ice. She directs herself towards James who is calling her over.

‘Don’t push yourself too hard, I know you are blind-sighted because of all the pressure on you and the dreams, but is this all really worth it?’ He questioned. ‘You are not fully back and you are working towards tryouts to get on the team?’

She started to get aggravated by him.

‘Is all this worth a gold medal? One more bump to the head and then-’

‘DON’T!’ She shouts. ‘If it was the other way round you’d do anything to go to the World Cup! I can do this, and I’m going to do it’ she states. ‘I can get whatever I put my mind too, remember’ she mutters before skating off.

James letting out his frustration as he kicks the board making everyone look at him.

....

Fast forward to February 2022 and YN was at the Olympics, living her complete Olympic dreams. James and Chilly was there supporting her just like they planned.

Her leg shook slightly as she stood in the changing room with James, they were holding each other as he tried to control her emotions. The last few months have been hard work and James saw that first hand, whenever it went bad they would argue just because he was trying to look after her. But it never went down well, but she knew he always had her back.

‘You’ve got this’ he whispered as his arms tightened around her. ‘You’ve beaten the odds, show the doubters wrong’

He gently caresses her cheek as he sees her eyes glisten and sparkle.

He leans in and kisses her. ‘Now go get that gold medal’ he smiles.

It was the second day of the competition and YN and Isaiah was still in the running. They were the last to perform so they knew exactly what to do. As they appeared on the rink the audience cheered waving the England flag.

James was on the edge of his seat, he felt sick to his stomach as he did the whole routine with you. He felt himself stop breathing at every lift and solo turn. He relaxed a little more every time you both executed your skills so cleaning and perfectly. Everyone was so awe struck of the two skaters we they gave the perfect story, his eyes landed on their coach and he could tell she was pleased. By the end of the routine James had tears in his eyes, as YN tried to keep her emotions in check.

There was a bit of a wait until the scores came in, YN instantly fell to the ground as she felt her heart burst as they got a 159.31 which had just taken the gold medal from the Germans.

James ran down and engulfed his girl, she wrapped her legs around him as he spun them around.

‘You done it’ he gushed. ‘I love you so so much!’

Her lip quivered as she realised that all her hard work has paid off.

[bellemorte180]

If I Die Before I Wake: Chapter Three

Vengeance is defined as punishment or retribution for a wrong committed against another. A single curse could derail and weaken the most powerful being in the world. A single massacre could take the entire world in one go; but it could centuries to execute the perfect vengeance.

Chapter Three

Chicago

October 1922

Klaus was in a foul mood as he sipped on his bourbon. He watched the people in the middle of Gloria's bar and was tired of Chicago. They were only meant to be there for a short stop. Freya had heard of Gloria, a powerful witch who may have connection to the Bennett line. It seem frustrating that those witches were so well hidden. Katerina must have made a deal with someone before the slumber spell was cast or Emily cast a cloaking spell on her bloodline just to hide them all from Klaus. Fifty-eight years without Caroline and Klaus could feel what left of his humanity burn away slowly.

He knew why they were still there. He cast his eyes towards his younger sister and the man who had his arms around her. Ever since Alexander, Klaus had been doubtful of Rebekah's taste in men. They always seemed weak.The only one who seemed to be a descent choice that Klaus didn't have to slaughter had been Marcel; and even then he hated the idea. If it wasn't for Caroline, Klaus would have shoved a dagger in Rebekah's heart and snapped Marcel's neck. However, he didn't. In the end even Rebekah couldn't hold that relationship together either. Although, he didn't know if it was because Caroline was gone or she grew bored.

Either were plausible answers to be honest.

And then there was Stefan. The new boy. Klaus hated to admit but he liked him. He was charismatic and enjoyed a good rip. They had fun just like Klaus and Kol used to. If Kol wasn't banished to the dagger for the rest of eternity, the three of them might have had some fun together; creating a blood bath that Chicago had never seen. He liked Stefan enough to overlook the fact that Katerina was his sire. Most days he could overlook that he was turned the same year that he lost Caroline; or that he was turned in the same place, or that he knew Emily Bennett when she was alive......or that he knew nothing of where the Bennett's where. The only reason he allowed Stefan to live was because Klaus knew Stefan had nothing to do with the curse and the fact that Rebekah liked him.

However, today was not most days.

“Come now Nik, you should enjoy the party.” Stefan said with a wide smile on his baby face. He grabbed a glass full of illegal bourbon and drained it. “It would be a shame to sit here and not enjoy the music. Gloria is really casting a spell tonight isn't she?” Stefan's eyes fluttered over to Rebekah who gave him a coy smile. That only infuriated Klaus further.

“Tonight is not the night to tease my into false brotherly affections.” Klaus snapped at him and Stefan saw his eyes flash yellow. This was the hybrid that people whispered about in the night. While he called Stefan a friend, Klaus wasn't above chopping his head off. “It's Caroline's birthday.”

“Oh. I didn't realize. I'm sorry.” There was that never ending compassion for those he cared about that both infuriated and pleased Klaus. It reminded him the Caroline he first married. The young seventeen year old girl full of light. Even in her bloodiest and darkest moments, Caroline never lost that light. “Maybe you should have another drink?”

“Or maybe he should go back to the penthouse.” Rebekah replied in the only tone she could achieve; bratty and spoiled. She put her hands on her hips, her nails tracing the white lace of her dress. Her hair was done it the flapper style and she was gorgeous, even Klaus acknowledged that. The silver necklace that had once belonged to their mother hung around her neck. Klaus could tell that Rebekah was finally coming into her own and that caused Klaus to want nothing more than to rip her throat out. “Perhaps you should not have come at all.”

“I thought you said that I shouldn't be alone tonight?” Klaus snapped back. His eyes narrowed. In the back of his mind he could hear Caroline's voice, stating that Rebekah cared far more than she lets on. Even in the deepest of slumbers, Caroline was able to keep him from doing something drastic. Her voice just brought to much pain; so he decided to shut it out.

“Why don't you tell me about Caroline? Rebekah's told me what she was like but, I would like to hear it from you.” Stefan chimed in, sensing the escalating tension between the siblings. That was Stefan, always able to calm even Rebekah in her brattiest of moments. “Rebekah said she was full of light. That she lit of a room whenever she walked into it.”

“Thats my Caroline.” Klaus drank more bourbon before falling into memories. “I met Caroline when we were human; before my mother tampered with a very dangerous spell made by a witch centuries before she was born. It was during the Summerfest in our village, we were celebrating the end of summer and welcoming autumn. I saw her across the fire and it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. She was singing and I never heard a voice like hers before. I thought I loved someone else but Caroline, she showed me what it really meant to love someone.”

“She sounds amazing.”

“She is. A little neurotic and a controlling but passionate. Oh, you should see us fight.” Klaus laughed, really laughed for the first time. “Centuries ago, when we were first turned and running for our lives, we made a stop in France. A noblewoman, Aurora, took an interest in me.”

“Psychotic tramp.” Rebekah muttered under her breath.

“You cheated on Caroline?”

“Never!” Klaus hissed and his eyes turned yellow. “I would never betray her. I couldn't. I wouldn't. Aurora took a fancy to me, not the other way around. She kissed me and I pushed away; Caroline saw the whole thing. It was the first time I really saw her loose her control. Caroline mastered being a vampire the moment Mikel made me watch him shove a sword through her chest but this, this made her lose complete control. She snapped Aurora's neck so quickly that I could hardly see her do it. The fight we had lasted a fortnight. Brought Mikael right to us. It was the brightest her light ever shined.”

“That is probably the most twisted thing I have ever heard.” Stefan chuckled, looking at Klaus's face. He was lost in that memory. The memory of Caroline's lips savagely devouring his over Aurora's corpse. It was possibly the first moment that they both lost their humanity into each other. “So Caroline killed Aurora.”

“Not quiet. Someone had Rebekah's blood in her system.” Rebekah rolled her eyes at her brother but smirked. Stefan turned to his girlfriend and she just shook her head.

“Aurora was prone to mania. She attempted suicide the night before because she couldn't understand why my brother did not love her. Klaus discovered that our blood was healing when Lucian, a servant boy, was beaten by Aurora's brother Tristen. I forced my blood down her throat to save her. When Caroline snapped her neck, Aurora became the first vampire that was turned after us.”

"You said the fight between you and Caroline brought your father after you?” Stefan asked. It was clear that Rebekah had shared more than Klaus would have preferred. Either way, Mikael was dead so he supposed he could let that go. He hated thinking of his step-father anymore than was reasonable.

“Yes. Our fight turned bloody. Caroline has a tendency to be as jealous as am I. The entire castle was pretty much massacred by the end. If Elijah hadn't learned to compel, we might have not made it out. We turned Lucian, Tristen and another servant girl as well. We compelled them to believe that they were us in order to lead Mikael on a false trail. Worked for a century.”

“A century? What happened?”

“Nothing.” Rebekah snapped, slamming her glass on the table.

“What Bekah? Too painful of a memory? Yet it is perfectly okay for me to relieve the first time I ever saw doubt in Caroline's eyes but you can't relive the memory of Alexander and his betrayal?!” Klaus was growing angry. His eyes flashed to Stefan. “Did she tell you that she allowed a hunter to bed her like a common whore?”

“Stop it Nik! I loved him. You know I did and he broke my heart.” Klaus looked murderous. The room went still. The people in the speakeasy froze, sensing the shift in the air around them. In a slit second, Klaus reached across the table and flung Rebekah across the room. Her mother's necklace hit the floor with a loud thud. People screamed and scattered. Glasses dropped. The alcohol that was worth more than ever-before spilled.

“You know nothing of love. You know nothing of a broken heart.” Stefan moved slightly out of the booth. Klaus saw him out of the corner of his eye. He flashed over and picked up the man he actually liked by the neck. “You loved Alexander. You loved Emil. You loved Marcel and now this one. Your love is fleeting. This one will end eventually. Why not now?”

“Nik, please. Don't. Don't kill him.” Klaus saw it, in her eyes. This one was different. He looked to Stefan and he could see it there too. Seeing the confirmation between the two lovers only made Klaus break even more. Once, he would have wanted his baby sister to feel what is was like to completely give into another person. Now, he was at the point where he wanted to burn the world to the ground. He turned to Stefan and looked him directly in the eye.

“I'm sorry Stefan, but the fun must end here. You must forget Rebekah and me until I say otherwise. You never knew us Stefan. Thank you. I had forgotten what it was like to feel something other pain for such a long time.” He dropped Stefan to the ground and faced Rebekah, who had the most heartbroken expression on her face. Klaus strolled towards her slowly. He opened up his coat, pulling out a silver dagger.

“Why do you have that? Why did you bring that?” She was still on the ground, tears staining her cheeks. She crawled backwards, trying to escape from him but knew that he would always catch her. Klaus crouched down to her level and waved the dagger in front of her. He grabbed her and slid the dagger into her chest; leaning down to whisper in her ear.

“Because I knew you and Stefan were planning on leaving me behind.” He looked at her eyes and watched as her skin turned grey. “Don't worry little sister, I'll bring him back to you when I have Caroline.”

*

Mystic Falls

April 2010

Elena frantically looked around the room. She was locked in a room that was possibly the best furnished room she had ever been in. She ran to the windows and pounded on them; smearing the blood on them as she screamed. Yet, none of the workers below heard her. Her hand went back to her neck, the wound still bleeding from Klaus's assault.

Her body and mind were in shock. Klaus stole her liked she expected but not because he needed or wanted her. No, he wanted Bonnie and that was not something she expected. It had always been her. Hadn't it? She couldn't remember a time that everything didn't revolve around her.

"I apologize.” Elena jumped and turned. In the now open doorway stood a man with impeccable dress. He was tall, brown hair and dressed in a suit. “I didn't mean to scare you. Forgive me.” He saw the injury on her neck. “My brother Niklaus does like to make an entrance. I'm sorry that he hurt you.” The man stepped forward, bit into his wrist and offered her. “Drink. It will heal you.” Elena wanted nothing less than to drink the blood but she could feel the wound wasn't going to heal. She accepted and drank, tasting copper on her tongue. She could feel the wound begin to heal.

“Thank you.” Elena whispered and she stepped away. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “You said 'your brother'? You mean Klaus?”

“Yes. I'm Elijah.” Elena smiled tentatively. “Niklaus was always rash but he is brilliant. He had a good heart once. Long ago. Our father hated him. Beat him furiously but Caroline gave him purpose. Passion. Drive. For eight hundred years their marriage held strong. They fought with the worst of them, but never once did they break. When Katerina had her witch cast that spell, she unleashed pure evil onto this world. He killed and maimed with Caroline. Without her, his moods and anger got worse. Blood flowed in the streets and second chances were never offered. Yet, he still clung to his humanity. If your witch fails I fear nothing in his path will be left standing.”

“Is that a promise?”

“No. A warning.” Elijah cocked his head and looked at her. “Niklaus is a broken man. Our family has been torn apart by what Katerina has done.” There was something behind his eyes that Elena could see but she didn't have a moment to process it before Elijah started speaking again. “There are clothes in the closet for you. Food will be brought at your request. A TV has been set up and the room is connected to a bathroom, right through there.”

“Such a luxurious prison.” Elena snapped, crossing her arms. Elijah chuckled at her as though he found her more than entertaining.

“You all look alike. All three of you. Each of you had a different personality but there was this fire in you.” Elijah studied her and Elena felt uncomfortable. To hear that the man in front of her had met several woman who were identical to her, suddenly made Elena not feel special at all.

“Oh goody, another one.” Elena's eyes snapped toward the doorway. A tall blond woman who looked similar to the witch Klaus had brought with them made her way into the bedroom. “Why do we always find ourselves in the presences of the doppelganger? Why does our fate always seemed to be intertwined with theirs?”

“A curse I blame our mother for.” Elijah replied and the blonde snickered. “It is good to see you Rebekah.” She smiled at him and make her way across the room and throwing her arms around him. He spun her around before setting her down. It was a moment of affection Elena didn't think would be possible for siblings of the man who savagely tore at her throat. “A few days and our entire family will be back together.”

“I'm looking forward to it. I missed having Caroline around. She always did have the best fashion advice for the times.” Rebekah smiled and looked over towards Elena. She didn't really spare to much of a glance, once you've met one doppelganger, you've met them all. However, something caught her eyes and the bored look she wore turned to fury. Before Elena could blink, Rebekah was pinning her to the wall with her hand wrapped around her throat. “Where did you get this?!”

The blonde vampire ripped the necklace Elena was wearing from her neck and dangled it in front of her. Rebekah didn't even flinch as the vervain burned her skin. Black veins appeared under her eyes and Elena felt her heart begin to race. Her vision blurred from the lack of oxygen and she felt herself being slammed back into the wall a second time.

“I won't ask you again, where did you get my necklace!”

“Rebekah, she can't answer you if you're chocking her.” Elijah chimed in and Rebekah tossed a filthy look over her shoulder at her brother but she loosed her grip. Elena took a few deep breaths and remained silent. Rebekah huffed in impatience and looked deeply into Elena's eyes. Without the vervain hanging around her neck, she was vulnerable to compulsion. “Who gave you that necklace?”

“My boyfriend Stefan.” Rebekah dropped Elena and took a step backwards. She could see the complete look of heartbreak on Rebekah's face; the necklace still dangling in her hands. Elijah sighed and stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“He gave you my mother's necklace?”

“Niklaus promised that he would make it right.” Elijah stated and Rebekah's eyes glistened. She turned and flashed from the room. The other vampire looked down at the girl and saw that her neck was bruised. He wouldn't blame her if she began to really hate them, having two of his siblings attack her in the same day. He bit into his wrist for a second time and offered it to her; however this time Elena declined. “It appears that you are seeing my siblings on their bad days.”

“I just don't understand what is going on.” Elena croaked out. “Katherine made it sound as though Klaus was coming to Mystic Falls for me because I look like her and it some how would help Klaus get his wife back.” That wasn't exactly what Katherine had said but Damon came flashing into the tomb before she was able to get any further answers. Everyone just assumed that Elena was the target.

“It is true that Niklaus is here in order to wake Caroline from her sleep but you have nothing special to contribute. I don't mean to be indelicate but you're just a means to an end.” It was harsh but Elena appreciated his frankness. “It is true that doppelganger blood is valuable. We discovered in the 1700s that it would be needed to create hybrids, someone who is a vampire and werewolf combined” Elijah added upon seeing Elena's look of confusion “like Niklaus himself. He was willing to wait for another one of Tatia's descendants to make an appearance. However, when Caroline was cursed, the talk of hybrids ended.”

“So he doesn't want my blood?”

“The only thing Niklaus wants is Caroline. Everything else is inconsequential.”

“Sounds like he is obsessed with her.” This caused Elijah to chuckle.

“Trust me. The obsession is mutual.”

*

Cadiz, Spain

June 1702

The forrest was thick and deep. The sun was beating down on her back as Caroline strolled through the trees. The clothing she wore was impractical, what with the tight corset and full skirt. The hems were getting dirty from the ground beneath her feet but she continued onward. She stopped and looked down at the body part below. A sigh escaped her lips. It wasn't as though Caroline was innocent when it came to murder but she preferred not to slaughter for the sure pleasure of it; she wasn't Kol after all. She knew that Klaus was relishing in the the delight of having his wolf back but this was getting out of hand.

“I found a hand and what looks like to be half a torso.” Caroline stated in a bored tone. Elijah was at her side in a second as was Kol. The three of them looked at the body part in annoyance.

“Why is it that when Nik slaughters an entire village in his new found wolf form, we clean up after his messes. When I torment a house full of prominent noble men, I get a dagger in the heart?” Kol stated in a petulant tone. He was none to pleased being forced to chase after his older brother's mess.

“Because Nik has been trying to break this curse for seven hundred years and when you torment innocent victims, you draw way to much attention.” Caroline snapped. She never wanted to admit that Kol had a point because that would go to his head, but unfortunately Kol did have a point. The last thing she needed to was control Kol with an inflated ego. She had enough of a challenge being married to Klaus.

“Although, if Niklaus doesn't shift back soon and stop this rampage, he will draw Mikael's attention.�� Elijah joined in. “Although, I am beginning to expect that is his intention, am I wrong?” Caroline turned towards Elijah. She knew it bothered him that Niklaus stopped confiding in him as much after the incident in England. It wasn't that Klaus didn't trust or love his brother, it was just that Elijah's judgment always seemed to be clouded when it came to the doppelgangers. Klaus loved Tatia once but that ended when his affections for Caroline grew. However, Elijah's love for Tatia never ended and he had hoped to recreate that love with Katerina.

“Yes. Nik wants to draw Mikael here and finish this. We have a white oak stake and he broke his curse. He is stronger than Mikael now and with all of our help, we can end this. We can stop running and perhaps create a home somewhere.” Caroline smiled. She knew that Klaus was doing this, not only for himself but for her. She was tried of running. She was tired of looking over her shoulder. She wanted a home and she wanted one with him. He once built her a hut in the dead of winter while he was still human because he knew that he was going to marry her. She still saw that determination in his eyes now when he looked at her. “This rampage is not just him enjoying his inner beast; he is gaining his strength for the fight.”

The two brothers were silent and that was a feat for Kol who always had a witty remark. None of them knew how it would end with Mikael but they knew it needed to be done. Each of the Mikaelson siblings grew to hate their father but none more than Klaus. Elijah remembered some sentiment of emotion for the man but the beatings his brother endured took precedent in his mind. Caroline hated him with the entire soul of her being because she was the one who saw the scars on his body that only Mikael could have created.

“Kol, take this and put them with the rest then start a fire.” Kol did as he was told without complaint; something unheard of. Kol flashed away and Elijah just stood there looking at Caroline. He said nothing but Caroline could see the wheels turning behind his eyes.

“What is it Elijah?”

“Why didn't he tell me that he found another doppelganger?” There it was. Caroline and Klaus had gone back and forth from telling Elijah the truth why they came to Spain. At first Elijah just thought it would be a new adventure for them, a new place for them to hide from Mikael. Yet, he saw the calculation going on between Klaus and Caroline; but they let none of the family in.

“Don't take it personally Elijah. We told no one. Not Rebekah, not Kol. No one.” Caroline stated but could see that answer wasn't going to be enough. “It is not that we don't trust you Elijah, it is just that you have a history with the doppelgangers. You loved Tatia. Still do. You loved Katerina and while we know you had nothing to do with her escape, we wanted to ensure that Francesca stayed where she was. It was best if she knew nothing of our coming.”

“I'm amazed I didn't notice her. A noble woman wearing the face of the women I have loved.” Caroline smiled at that. When Francesca was discovered, they were unsure how they were going to hide her from Elijah but the opportunity presented itself.

“It was easy. She was near the end of her confinement.” Caroline added and Elijah nodded. Pregnant woman of nobility rarely go out into society. Which worked perfectly for them when it came to keeping Elijah in the dark. Klaus of course just wanted to snatch her right away, sacrifice her and move on. Yet, Caroline thought it would be best to allow her to birth her child and keep the Petrova line alive.

“She had a son then?” Elijah asked and Caroline nodded. “Do you think how you retrieved her was cruel? The Caroline I knew never would have harmed a pregnant woman and yet you walked right into her home, took her from her birthing bed and brought her to be sacrificed on an alter.”

“You make it sound as though I cut the child from her.” Caroline snapped. “I may have compelled her labor to advance but I did not harm that child Elijah.” He knew she hadn't. No matter how much her love and obsession for Klaus caused her to let go of her humanity, Caroline could never harm a child. “Once the child was born, yes I took her and yes she never held her son but I did what needed to be done. I brought her body back and as far as anyone is concerned, she died in childbirth.”

“It was clean and your compulsion is always sound.” Elijah cocked his head. “But what is really bothering you? Your hatred for the doppelgangers parallels my brothers'. He hated Tatia because of her affair with me. He hated Katerina because she prevented him from breaking the curse. But why do you hate them so?”

“Tatia bedded my husband.”

“Long before you could have called Niklaus you betrothed let alone husband. Aurora kissed him after you were married and I don't see you hunting her down to make her pay for it.” Caroline narrowed her eyes. Elijah knew better than to mention Aurora's name to her because seven hundred years later she still holds a grudge against the wench.

“Let her cross my path and she won't be so lucky with Rebekah's blood this time.” Caroline snapped. She could see that her brother-in-law was not going to let it go. “Tatia had a child. Before Niklaus and I became acquainted I remember thinking that she was blessed.”

“Yes. She had her late husband's child.”

“And Katerina gave birth to Nadia.”

“A child you tracked down and hide in order to prevent her from ever finding.” Elijah replied. It was an odd punishment, especially since Caroline had kept Nadia close for a year before placing her in a village far away from Bulgaria. For a long time, Elijah thought it was just extended punishment for running, as though massacring Katerina's family wasn't enough. “What is it?”

“They just always seem to have what I can't. Tatia had her daughter. Katerina had Nadia and Francesca had her son.” Caroline looked down. “I was pregnant.” Elijah went still and if his heart still beat, it would have skipped one. “When we were human, right before we were turned, I suspected I was with child; and then when Mikael killed me and Esther brought us back, the child was gone.”

“Caroline, I didn't know. I'm sorry.” She didn't reply and her face was stone. Elijah knew her well enough that she was constructing that perfect wall back up around her emotions. If Caroline was a master of anything, it was control and that included her emotions. “Did my brother know?”

“Yes. I told him of my suspicions but I did not feel the quickening yet. We wanted to wait.” They heard a shift, about a mile away and Caroline plastered that smile back on her face. It wasn't completely false but the pain was still there. “It seems my husband as decided to return to his human form.”