#yes I did all this work for a potato based pun

[cat-cosplay]

We decided to russet up an adventuring party for Dungeons & Dragons.

[misssophiachase]

You Make My Heart Smile

So, happy (belated) birthday, Tina @tnapki Your edits make me smile (pardon the pun) and I wanted to thank you for that and everything you bring to the fandom.

I based it on your GORGEOUS EDIT

I also made it about food cause it’s SO you. On AO3 HERE

Also thanks to the gorgeous Kait @an-awesome-wavve for being amazing and my part brainstorm, part beta, part researcher and part undercover partner in crime. 

Renowned Chef Klaus Mikaelson has a bad reputation until he meets food blogger Caroline Forbes and has no idea how to handle her or the unfamiliar feelings she evokes, especially that annoying ability to make him smile. 

3 May - Alinea - 1723 N. Halsted St, Chicago IL - 3pm

“I’m not going to do some stupid interview, you know I have other, more important things to do, right?”

Klaus Mikaelson didn’t do interviews. He didn’t need to because his accomplishments spoke for themselves. He hadn’t slogged away in kitchens since he was twelve and worked his way through culinary school and some of the best restaurants to waste his time. 

Being a world-renowned chef owning not one, but four, three-Michelin-starred restaurants across the globe meant he could do whatever the hell he wanted. 

But yet here she was running his life. 

Still. 

“Like yell at me? I mean, you’ve been doing that since we were little so I guess it’s nothing I haven’t experienced before. ”

“I knew I should have never mixed business and family,” he snapped. “You always throw our childhood back in my face as an excuse to insult my life choices.”

“Because it’s too easy not to,” she pouted, flicking a stray, blonde lock over her shoulder.  “And, while I am unfortunately related to your sorry ass, I am also your publicist and this interview is good for your career.”

“I don’t need publicity.”

“Correction, you do need publicity,” she argued, her fork now attacking the very veal he’d cooked with more fervour than needed. 

“Easy on the product, little sister,” Klaus growled, his protectiveness for his art on full display. 

“Oh, silly me I thought it was already dead,” she shot back, tartly. “And before you interrupted, I was going to say that, yes maybe you shouldn’t need publicity given your career achievements, but that was before you dropped an entree on the food critic’s lap from the Chicago Tribune, fired your sous chef in front of the entire restaurant and insulted Gordon Ramsey on national television.”

“Ramsey is a sell out, I stand by my comments,” he muttered. “The critic had it coming and, now you mention it, so too did that sorry excuse for a sous chef.”

“You realise people call you the angry chef, right?”

“Better than the naked chef I suppose.” He shrugged his shoulders indifferently. Klaus wasn’t in the business for gimmicks or to secure his own cooking program. He took his food seriously and there was nothing wrong with that. 

“At least people like Jamie Oliver,” she replied, arching her eyebrows knowingly. “Anyway, there’s no point in arguing because she’ll be here in five minutes.”

“Please tell me you didn’t just schedule an interview without my permission?”

1717 N. Halsted St, 3:10pm

“What’s with the expression of impending doom, Care Bear?” He asked, lugging his camera equipment as they walked up the block toward Alinea. 

“What have I told you about calling me that?”

“Not to do it but it’s too fun not to, Care Bear.” Given his general maturity level, Caroline decided it was a losing battle and she had more important things on her mind. 

“Anyway, it’s not doom,” she muttered. “It’s just the overwhelming desire not to do this interview but given I don’t want to get fired and also pay my rent, there’s no other option.”

“Is someone afraid of the angry chef?”

“Oh, puh-lease, I’m not afraid. Although, I might not be able to bite my tongue if he decides to insult me like he did Gordon Ramsey.”

Caroline wasn’t one to judge but his indiscretions were well-known and well-documented. Although, chefs with egos weren’t an entirely new phenomenon to the industry or to Caroline given interviewing them was her job.

“You and I both know Ramsey deserved that dressing down, if anything Mikaelson earned my respect that day.” Caroline couldn’t argue with that. 

Although this one was another kind of beast. 

The effortlessly attractive kind. 

For Caroline, this was an unsettling prospect. Until she reminded herself why she was here in the first place. 

Caroline loved food. Sometimes, she thought, more than life itself. 

So, when she became a food blogger after graduating with a journalism degree from Northwestern, it wasn’t a surprise. She was currently the senior blogger at popular food blog Delicious. 

“You love food and writing about it,” Was Enzo reading her mind? “How about instead of focusing on the negative, remember that this will be your biggest interview yet. Think about all of the exposure this will garner.”

The upper echelons of Delicious had decided that an interview with Klaus Mikaelson would be a big scoop. Caroline was all for interviewing chefs about their food and the passion behind it but she knew her editor wanted something less about his craft and more about his bad boy reputation.  

“Yes, but I want to write about food, not produce tabloid fodder.”

“Just think, once you do this then maybe you’ll have enough of a following to start your own blog and write what you want and not what someone tells you to do.”

“Mmmm, you do have a point.”

“Of course I do because Enzo knows everything. Also, take me with you because you’d be lost without me, sweetcheeks.”

“Third person, huh? That ego of yours knows no bounds, Lorenzo.”

“You know it, Care Bear,” he joked, flashing his most dazzling smile. “Well, looks like we’re here.”

“Looks like it,” she murmured, noting the intimidating sign overhead and wondering what she’d gotten herself into. “Here goes nothing.”

3:15pm

“Caroline Forbes?” 

“You must be Rebekah and this is my photographer Lorenzo St John.”

Klaus, who’d been throwing a temper tantrum not one minute ago, found himself looking up into the blue eyes of one Caroline Forbes. Suddenly, all of the white noise of the moment fell away and it was just the two of them in the room together and the blonde in question was looking at him expectantly. 

It was paralysing. 

But good paralysing he decided. 

“Nik?” Rebekah questioned. Now they were both looking at him. Had he zoned out and not realised it?  Well, if so, this was all kinds of embarrassing. “Caroline is the senior blogger for Delicious and she’s here for that interview, you know the one we talked about earlier?”

Yeah, ten minutes earlier, he thought to himself doing everything he could not to bite back in front of the new arrival.   

“It’s nice to meet you Mr Mikaelson, I have to say I’m a big fan of your…”  

“Look, it’s not going to be possible, I have to prep for dinner service,” he lied, although regretted it immediately when he noticed her expression. Klaus wasn’t used to being nice, it wasn’t in his DNA and usually it didn’t bother him. 

Until now. 

Klaus decided to blame it on the foreign feelings she was causing. As soon as he got some distance between them it would be fine, especially that vanilla scent he couldn’t ignore given it was infiltrating his first line of defence.

Klaus liked women, in fact he slept with many when his busy schedule permitted, but that was sex and nothing else. Just the way he liked it, easy and unemotional. 

“Why don’t we multitask then? I’m happy to help. ” Her voice was light and melodic. Klaus was hoping it wasn’t going to sound so enticing. He also wasn’t expecting that response. “I worked in a restaurant kitchen for years, I can do dishes, polish cutlery and peel a mean potato and an onion, well almost without crying.”

Why was he buoyed by that ridiculous statement and increasingly trying not to flash her a goofy smile? 

Klaus didn’t smile. He just didn’t. Ever. 

This wasn’t how he saw his day going at all. He was going to kill Rebekah. Before he could reply, the current subject of his ire spoke. 

“That sounds like a fantastic idea,” she grinned. “How about Lorenzo and I make ourselves scarce then?” 

“It’s actually Enzo, darling, you sound a bit too much like my mother and my oppressive boss Care Bear here.” 

Klaus hadn’t even realised there was someone else in the room up until this point but it was clear Caroline wasn’t too impressed by his nickname or the oppressive part. Maybe they had more in common than he thought? 

Care Bear.  Klaus thought it was adorable. Then he could feel it, that idiotic urge to smile again. 

Before he could object again, Rebekah had made a quick exit with the photographer and she was just standing there. Klaus could feel the awkward tension between them and knowing he’d caused it wasn’t helping matters. But he didn’t know any other way to act. 

Then the words he’d struggled with just tumbled out. 

“How do you feel about fish?”

Not the most suave topic or question but this was his ‘uncomfort’ zone. 

“Depends on the context.”

“The context?”

“I mean, if you think I can clean, fillet and debone a fish, you’ve obviously overestimated my cooking talents.”

Klaus had to practically eat the smile that was threatening to appear.  Again. 

“Everyone has to start somewhere and get their hands a bit dirty, otherwise what’s the point?” He advised. “But, if you don’t want to then…”

“Oh, I never back away from a challenge, chef,” she promised. 

Again, the pesky smile was hovering just beneath the surface. 

Leading her towards the kitchen, Klaus told himself that preparing a fish was definitely going to keep his emotions at bay and also block out that perfume which was throwing him off balance. 

4:45pm

“Why do I feel like this was a ploy to distract me from my interview?” Caroline asked, dipping the fish into egg wash and then flour as instructed by her cooking mentor for the day.. 

This was not how she saw her day going. It was surreal to say the least. This guy was supposed to be an ogre but Caroline was realising he was something else entirely. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shot back. “But you filleted that fish like a professional, maybe you’ve missed your true calling?”

“I suppose I had a semi-good teacher,” she admitted wryly. 

“Wow, tell me what you really think, Forbes.”

Caroline was trying not to to get too caught up in the moment but Klaus Mikaelson had challenged every judgment she’d ever harboured about the temperamental chef.  He’d been unusually kind and patient.

The one thing she’d noticed was that his overall demeanour didn’t match his expression. 

He didn’t smile.

Not once. 

A few times, Caroline could swear it was close or maybe she was just imagining it?

“So, why do you like food?” It was a question she wasn’t expecting. Especially seeing as she was the interviewer and him her subject. 

“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to be asking you?” He was silent for a moment, almost like he was contemplating it. “But I get the impression you don’t like that question much?”

“I’d much prefer to hear your story first, call it a warm-up.” Clearly he was nervous and Caroline was happy to oblige if it helped. 

“My grandmother,” she smiled knowingly, visions of her nana filling her head. “When I was younger I’d go to her house most weekends and we’d cook together. She could make anything and everything. She died last year and it’s been tough without her but at least I still have those memories.”

Caroline didn’t mean to get personal, especially with the so-called “angry chef” but for some reason she felt nothing but comfort in his presence, even if he didn’t smile. 

“What was her specialty?” 

“Banana cream cheesecake,” she smiled, the taste of it rushing back in all its delicious glory. 

“Hard to beat,” he murmured. “Have you ever eaten a Bananas Foster? My restaurant in New Orleans does a modern version over flame.  According to my maitre’d there’ve apparently been a few proposals over dessert.”

“Over your dessert?”

“Someone sounds dubious. Let’s just say it’s fireworks but without the danger. Well, unless the tablecloth is accidentally set on fire but the fire department down there are pretty good first responders I understand.”

“I just didn’t take you for the romantic dessert type.”

“I suppose there’s a lot of things you don’t know about me then.”

“So, why do you like food then?”

“Well, of course I like food, I wouldn’t be a chef otherwise,” he shared, moving swiftly in behind her and taking the fillets from her hand and placing them in the hot pan, Caroline was trying not to react to his touch or that welcoming and heady mixture of sandalwood, spices and soap . “But one interview isn’t going to even begin to answer that question.” 

He had a point and Caroline knew it. How could you sum up what food meant to you in one interview?  

“So, what exactly are you trying to say? I do have a deadline to meet.”

“How about we schedule a follow-up interview tomorrow morning? Dinner service is imminent and if you stay I’m going to have to ask you to do more than fillet a fish. My pastry chef Lucien is also very needy, requires constant gratification, and you don’t want to be on the receiving end of that.”

“Not gonna lie I’m intrigued and by that I’m talking about Lucien. Did you insult his choux pastry or something?”

 “Not if I want my patrons to eat dessert this century. But, if you insist on staying, there’s a whole pile of onions there with your name on it and we can call it even.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He raised his left eyebrow by way of response. Caroline was trying to ignore just how good he looked, even if there was no smile forthcoming. 

“Fine,” she conceded. “Tomorrow morning but that’s it otherwise my editor might fire me.”

“Great, let’s make it 10:30, you can poach an egg, right? And I also expect extra crispy bacon.”

Caroline knew she was possibly in trouble and not because he was tasking her with cooking. Enzo would also parrot that particular concern but she couldn’t help herself. 

Today was probably the best day she’d had in a long time and she didn’t want it to end. She told herself that she’d return tomorrow and get her interview, that’s all she wanted from him, right?

4 May - Alinea - 1723 N. Halsted St, Chicago IL - 11am

Klaus Mikaelson was in uncharted territory. 

That’s what scared him the most. 

Caroline Forbes was seated across from him at his best, window table in jeans and a cream sweater, her plate empty and a very full but satisfied look on her face. Klaus decided to add that to his favourite expressions file. It was fast filling up and he’d only known her for 20 hours. 

He wasn’t this guy. 

At all. 

But she’d consumed his thoughts since their first meeting and all night through dinner service and beyond. He’d barely slept, but it wasn’t a bad thing. He’d been looking forward to seeing her as soon as she left. 

The only problem? Not smiling because it was that difficult when she was in his presence. He had his reasons of course. 

“So, why do you love food? And no arguments given I poached a mean egg and also let you have a reprieve yesterday.”

“The bacon could use some work, just saying.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to cook itself yourself, Mikaelson. Are you always such a critic? Last time I checked that was my job. Also enough with the distractions. So?”

“My mum,” he admitted quietly, even if it took a minute or so to verbalise. For some reason her opening up about her grandmother had filled him with courage. He didn’t do feelings or talk about them for that matter. “She cooked with me practically from birth until she got too sick last year.” 

Those last words wobbled, it was unfortunate as it was expected. He’d struggled for a long time and losing his mother had been difficult.  

“What was her specialty?” Klaus recognised the question he’d asked himself yesterday, but the fact her hand squeezed his at the same time filled him with the confidence and warmth he needed. 

“Rosemary braised lamb shanks, it was her favourite protein. I’ve tried to pay homage on all my menus since.”

‘So, that explains the Saddle of Elysian Fields Farm Lamb with Babaganoush, Romano Beans and Harissa Jus on your menu then?”

“You’ve done your homework clearly?” 

“That and the fact it’s the first time I’ve seen you smile, and I have to say it’s really nice.” 

Klaus didn’t even realise he’d let it slip but suddenly it didn’t matter anymore. He didn’t want to hide it, not with her. 

“She used to tell me to smile all the time because I was too serious, you could say it’s something I’ve battled with ever since she passed.”

“All the more reason to smile, even just to introduce those dimples to the general public. Has anyone ever told you they should come with a warning?”

“No, but more than happy to discuss further.”

“If only, but I have to get going.” Klaus felt almost deflated that she was leaving as quickly as she’d arrived. Maybe he’d shared too much. “Deadlines and all that. But if you could just consult the email I sent confirming the details of our interview that would be great.”

Klaus felt disillusioned, he’d opened himself up to someone and she was running away.  She was out the door before he could even move from his seat. Checking his emails was the last thing he felt like doing, but his hand went to work on his cell checking it anyway and dreadfully waiting for its contents.

“As of three minutes ago, I no longer working for Delicious. It wanted a story I wasn’t prepared to write. I like your smile and dimples too much and I also want a Bananas Foster.”

His chest constricted as he read each word and his grin was unmistakable.  It didn’t take long for him to reply.

“You make my heart smile.”

Tabloids would report months later that famed food blogger Caroline Forbes married famed chef Klaus Mikaelson in rural England after proposing over a dessert of Bananas Foster in New Orleans. 

[strawberries-n-sugar]

FUNKY FLAVORS & OLD TUNES

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Short! "Skinny"! White reader (please don't be offended and if you are then don't read? I can only find specifically x black reader, x plus size reader, x tall reader for every character and I enjoy reading all of those things because I have a imagination but I am none of those things so just something from the other perspective and it isn't meant to offend anyone :), hope you ALL enjoy. This isn't meant to show hate to anyone, just show some love to people who arent those three things)

Warnings: maybe some 18+ (I write straight from my head), old music, old funk and groove music, horniness, corniness, puns, sarcasm, innuendos, maybe some old doo wop, maybe some 90s, a plethera of music in a variety of forms, nerdiness, uhm, thats it? Oh, Daddy! Sam at the end and not the kinky kind XD, interracial relationship (I dont know why that is a warning but some people get offended so I thought I would play it safe), bad dancing my a short bitch who think she has the skills of Tom Hiddles, maybe some sad talk, Steve and Buck being matchmakers

Summary: Things have been rough for Sam and the whole Avengers gang actually since losing Tony but Sam finds a little escape every now and then. A new little hole in the wall juice and homemade icecream joint. The owner might be stealing his heart but she can't see it, good things come in small packages, or was it dynamite? For Sam, it's both, the joint is always thumpin' and so is his heart

“Funky Flavors, that’s new?” Sam comes to a slow jog from his run as he is about to stop noticing a new business had opened just off the route he runs when he runs around the Lincoln Memorial. “I could go for some juice,” he shrugs talking to himself as he goes in, removing his earbuds from his ears. Upon walking in the first thing he notices is the music, She’s A Bad Mama Jamma by Carl Carlton blared through the small system. “Okay,” he raises a brow and looks around, the small place was empty at the moment. Figuring that the owner was in the back he let’s himself dance.

“Hey~!” He gets a little too into it as you walk out from the back. You don’t say anything and just watch smiling and trying not to laugh, being your size came in handy, quite often you go unnoticed. After a minute you decide to butt in. “Hey Shug, what can I getcha?” 

“Oh shit! Huh?” He stops suddenly, caught of guard he jumps a little. “How long you been there?” “About a minute and a half, smooth moves.” “Thanks,” he rubs the back of his neck, “Wait, Shug?” “Sorry, habit, daddy called me and momma that so it stuck and now I say it.” “That’s sweet,” he smiles. “Thanks, and thankyou for stopping by.” “Yeah, noticed the new place, decided to stop by. Thirsty after the run, uh, what do you have? You ain’t from around here are you?” “No,” you giggle and hand him the menu, “I’ve got homemade icecreams and original beverages”

He looks the menu over and reads it off 

Mango Mornin’ Sunrise- mango and pineapple orange juice slushie (alcoholic and non-alcoholic options)

Momma I’m Messed Up- vodka, Redbull, rum. Blueberries, blackberries, and tequila 

Wet- (icecream flavor and drink; drink comes with dish of sugar dipped strawberries, homemade) starwberries, red wine; 19 Crimes 

Classic Homemade Butter Pecan Icecream (optional served with homemade pecan pie)

The I’m Sorry Miss Jackson (icecream flavor and drink)- Jack Daniels, coconut and chocolate

Moonshine Milkyway- homemade icecream with Milkyway and moonshine flavor 

The Send Help- Irish Trashcan with a scoop of I’m Sorry Miss Jackson on top

Pantie Dropper- (alcoholic and non-alcoholic options) smoothie with pineapple, orange, lemon, pineapple and grapefruit

Soaking Thighs- (alcoholic and non-alcoholic options) smoothie with blackberries, red grape juice, and pineapple 

Thigh Rider- Red’s Apple ale with apple cider

Summer Heat- blackberry sprite beverage 

F*** Me, Now- house-made strawberry juice (alcoholic and non alcoholic options)

Sam rubbed his neck and cleared his throat, “Jesus girl,” he laughs. “So what’ll it be Mr?” You ask, leaning over the counter as Let’s Get It On by Marvin Gaye comes on. “Shit, I’ll have a Fuck Me Now” 

“One Fuck Me Now comin’ right now Shug,” you say shocking yourself with how you kept a straight face and not noticing how he was watching you as you made it. “Alcoholic or regular?” You glance at him. 

“It’s 10 in the morning girl” “And?” “Regular, this time,” he laughs. 

“Alright here you go,” you finish up and pass it to him, making your way over to the register. “I like the station, which one is it?” 

You laugh, “that ain’t the radio, it’s my playlist”

“Say what?” He raises a brow like he doesn’t believe you. 

“What?” You ask seriously as you ring him up. 

“It’s just-”

“Just?” You shake your head and stretch your eyes. 

“Well-”

“Well?”

“You’re wearing a Asking Alexandria t-shirt for one thing”

“Yeah, nice ain’t it? Soft too,” You smirk as you know the next song will address the elephant in the room as Play That Funky Music White Boy comes on and you both laugh. 

“3.45″

“oh, right,” he pays you already sipping at it. 

“You said this time, so, you’re coming back?”

“Maybe,” he smirks. 

“Alright, I’ll hold ya to it,” you say, thinking about how you’d like him to hold you to a wall and chewing your bottom lip. You quickly remind yourself that that won’t ever happen. Guys don’t really want your type, you aren’t thicc, or super curvy, there’s no meat with your potatoes and nothing for them to hang on to, you have to have a little something to work with because thicc thighs save lives and no man wants to cuddle a stick, you aren’t a snow-bunny. All things you have heard before, and that was just about your weight and all things you have heard before, the short jokes didn’t end either much less would anyone take you seriously as a woman.

“I’ll see you later Lil Juicy,” he smiles as he leaves.

“Lil Juicy?”

“You’re little and you make juice”

“Bye,” you both laugh and you watch him walk away.

“I’ll bring some friends next time,” he calls.

“Wait!”

“Yeah?”

“I’m looking for help so if you know anyone-”

“I’ll spread the word” “Thanks, bye”

Stepping outside once the door shut behind him and the door closed behind him, “I think the new Captain America has found his Miss America,first lady?  She is damn cute,” he smiles and chuckles making his way. 

Days go by, and then a week, and a week and a half where Sam can’t get you out of his head and you hadn’t stopped thinking about him either but you hadn’t seen him again yet. He did spread the word because the next day his friend Wanda show’s up and she started working for you. You liked her, she was nice and a giant help but working with her became hard sometimes when customers would go googly eyed over her. You couldn’t blame them, she wasn’t thicc but she but she was you could still understand why, she was gorgeous.

“So, have you heard from Sam?” You ask her while it is slow.

“Yes, he said he was bringing Steve and Bucky today”

“Really?” Okay, that was overzealous, it didn’t help when the trio came in. Sam, and ofcourse you recognized the other two based on them being the Avengers, and through talking with Wanda.

“Alright, Steveo, you first,” Sam gets his phone out to record the old man’s reaction. 

“Hello,” Steve says friendly, “Hi, what’ll it be?” 

“The uh,” he clears his throat with a blush, “No need to be shy,” you encourage him. “The strawberry one” 

“No, you’ve gotta say the name,” Sam teases him. “the fuck me now....” “That is a bad language word!” Sam teases and you make Steve’s drink as Bucky looks over the menu and he and Steve watch Sam watching you, glancing to each other knowingly. Well, it was obvious with how happy he was and how he chewed his bottom lip as you bent over to grab things not paying attention. 

“Alright, and you Shug?” You give Steve his drink and ask Bucky what he would like 

“I’ll have the Summer Heat, add vodka. Thanks,doll”

“You’re welcome,” you start making it and it was quiet except for Stand By Me by  The Drifters was on and you sang along and harmonizing, Sam hums along as well harmonizing with you. “This one or Ben E King?” He asks, “this one, obviously” “Alright, :Lean On Me, Club Nouveau or the original?” “The original sucks, doesn’t flow,” you answer as you make the drink and the guys just watch the two of you as they sit with their drinks. 

“You have good taste-”

“Bet you think she tastes good too,” Buck says casually and you all turn to look at him shocked.

“What?” He shrugs, “I’m 103, and I was bagging bitches in the 40′s” 

You all shrug and make the touche face. Steve on the other hand was about to implode trying to remain a gentleman and not laugh. “He wants to eat strawberries from your tits,” Buck continues sipping his drink. 

“Okay Pal, thanks,” Sam leans over to take it and Buck smacks his hand.

“I wouldn’t mind,” you joke honestly

“We approve,” the two old men say in unison looking at Sam.

“Ask her,” Buck edges him on and points to you with his head while you aren’t looking.

“Ask who what?” Wanda asks confused as you rise from what you were doing behind the counter. 

“Y/N,” Buck answers her.

“Ask me what?”

“Would-would you maybe uhm-would you like to come record shopping with me?”

“Sure, just message me,” you exchange numbers, thinking it was meant to be a casual friend thing. 

The next week after texting him almost constantly and him texting you you make arrangements. He picked you up, opened the door for you, and the day was amazing. You wandered through the record store browsing only for him to sneak up behind you and put his arms around you at some point to look in the same crate and look down to read your face to see if it was okay only to find you blushing again. He smiles feeling a sudden little boost in confidence, the pointers that Steve and Buck had given him were working. He swallows a lump in his throat, hoping you don’t notice before speaking softly by your ear. 

“Want to do this again next Friday?” “S-ure, but Sam...” “Hmm?”

“Can we not do this?” “Yeah,” he pulls away, “Y/N, are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.....I just, well, I really-I don’t want to get the wrong idea”

“What is that?” he tilts his head.

You choose not to answer, you weren’t really allowed to answer that question as you look around gauging the room and seeing a few women who may get offended just by you telling the truth. They would probably attack you, call you a liar, mock you, definitely laugh. “I can’t answer that, I need jeans...can we swing by American Eagle-wai-,” you check your wallet to see if you will have enough. “i think I have enough for one pair,” he nods and you buy the records you want and you both leave. His hand in the middle of your back holding the door for you. “Thankyou” “You’re welcome....”

He walks to American Eagle with you as you find a assistant to help you find the one section of the store that is a half of a table that will have your petite sizes. She walks you over and Sam watches as you look through the very small section of the large store where the pants short enough in length and small enough in waist for you are and buy a pair and he looks at the other sections, pretty much the entirety of the ladies section of the store with the other jeans. 

“Ready?” You come over to him with your bag. “Yeah, hang on, let me see that?” 

You hand him your bag and he looks at the receipt, “Why did yours cost twice as much?” 

You shrug, “this is the only place that has anything to fit me at all other than the kids section at Walmart, lets go. I’m just happy i am thicker than I used to be in high school and I can eat now and it ain’t much but I’m proud of my little booty I do have some days,” you laugh. 

“So, next week?”

“Yeah, I love hanging out with you”

 Sam takes you home and gets the door, it was a silent drive home. He walks you to your door. 

“Thanks Sam, I had fun,” you start to hug him but can only reach his waist so to make it less awkward you make it quick. “Night,” you smile and start to go inside.

“Night Y/N....,” he grabs your arm and turns you, he lifts you enough to be face to face with you which honestly made you feel like a child as your feet dangles so high off the ground, “Thanks, I needed this on jean shopping day,” you say sarcastically to play off that it actually hurts because you really like Sam. 

“Y/N,” he sits you on the railing and holds your waist so you won’t fall.

“Hmm?” You ask, looking at your thighs, thinking about how they are thick compared to when people complimented your thigh gap and you hated it but had to smile because you couldn’t eat for a year due to being sick but you had to smile and say thankyou, and how now you had improved a lot and it has taken you years to do so but you still weren’t thicc enough to be good enough. 

“Look at me,” he lifts your chin and you glance at him, trying to have eye contact but you look so pathetic right now. 

“I like being able to pick you up,” he starts and smiles, you start to cut him off and hop down but he grabs your thighs to hold you there and he cuts you short. “I’m not finished.” 

That stern voice made the heat pool between your legs, you knew you loved this man. 

“Maybe you haven’t noticed, but I watch you walk away and I stare at your ass every time you bend over or squat for somethin’-” you can’t stop the blush in your ears and your face. “Really?” “yes, and I like being able to pick you up, it’s cute. if you would have hugged me a second ago instead of flinging your arms around me and moving away I would have wrapped my arms around you and taken a second to just enjoy your head against me.....I think you are a beautiful lady, and you are interesting, and intelligent, I can talk to you and I love that. Please, go out with me next week on another date?”

“Another?”

“Yes, I thought this was a date until you got sad....”

“I didn’t know, I thought you just saw me as a friend and wanted to hang out; that’s usually how it goes...”

“Alright, my fault. I should have been more clear,” he puts a hand to his chest, still holding you so you don’t fall. “Please, may I take you out to dinner, next Friday? I’ll pick you up at the same time, it’s a date...please,” he looks up at you as he kisses your knuckles. “You don’t have to beg little old me, I’d love to,” you answer honestly and he kisses the side of your lip almost your cheek. “I’ll get my real kiss next time,” he helps you down and that was how it all started. That is how you became Mrs. Sam Wilson a year later, and now here you were almost three years later lying down and watching him pace back and forth in front of the bed with your new son.  

“Sam, I have a idea”

“To get him to sleep?”

You nod and go to your playlist and press play letting the soft  shoo doo shooby doo~ shoo doo dooby doo~ In the still of the night~ fill the room.

Sam see’s his eyes drift closed and carefully lays him in his crib and crawls up over you on the bed slowly before swiftly flipping the situation so you’re straddling him. He grips and caresses your thighs and chews on his lip before pulling your neck in for a kiss, “I’ll have a Fuck Me Now please” “Coming right up” 

[pharmercytechnician]

It’s a Good Day to get Laid.... to Rest

Okay so this is something I started a while back and I just kinda got stuck writing it and forgot about it. So I figured I’d go ahead and just say fuck it and post what I got 👀💀

Anyways, it’s based off of a post about mortician sasuke who’s too nervous to tell the cute new blond that he’s a mortician. But I can’t find the original post :(

Sasuke sighed quietly to himself as he sipped on his beer, the second of the night.

The bar was already bustling when he’d arrived and he’d taken a seat at the farthest stool from the door and hunkered down.

He was supposed to be meeting his chronically late best friend Suigetsu, but it had been 20 minutes since the agreed upon meeting time and Sasuke was sure he’d been stood up.

He checked his phone for the 5th time, waiting for the incoming text from Suigetsu saying he’d be either late or that he wasn’t coming at all, which was most likely the case. Suigetsu liked to not show to things, leaving Sasuke to fend for himself.

Sasuke heard the telltale sound of the door to the bar opening and he turned to see who it was.

In stepped a man who stole Sasuke’s breath away, and his heart for that matter.

Sasuke gaped at the gorgeous blonde.

He had on a sleeveless orange shirt and a pair of tight fitting black jeans that left little to the imagination.

The absolute god of a man glanced around the room before finally making his way over to the bar, towards Sasuke.

Sasuke tried to look interested in his phone so that he wouldn't be caught staring.

“Excuse me. Mind if I sit here?” A smooth voice interrupted Sasuke’s thoughts, tearing his eyes away from his blank phone screen, he looked up and found himself face to face with the blond.

God he even sounds heavenly.

Sasuke swallowed hard and tried to get his words to work right.

“Yes. Wait no I mean no I don’t mind” Sasuke rambled, feeling the heat rise to his face. The blond only laughed in response before dropping onto the stool next to him. The bartender, a young man with long blond hair tied up into a high ponytail, hurried over to where the hot blond had sat down.

“Is there anything I can get you love?” He asked sweetly. Sasuke could barely hide his eye roll at the bartenders obvious flirting.

“Uh. I’ll take a michelob thank you” The blond ordered with a grin. The bartender nodded and left to go retrieve the blonds beer.

“So what brings a cutey like you here?” The bartender asked, reappearing with a beer in hand.

He popped the cap on it and held it out. The blond took it and took a long sip before setting it down.

“Well. I’m supposed to be meeting a friend here tonight, although it looks like they’re running late” the blond replied, glancing down at the watch he wore on his hand. Sasuke had to resist snorting when he saw it was basically a childrens watch with a giant frog on the face of it.

The bartender nodded before attempting to say something else, but he was cut off as someone down the bar waved him over.

Sasuke stared down at his beer, watching the way the condensation rolled down the side of the glass bottle.

He wished he had the courage to say something to the man next to him, but alas, he had the courage of a potato skin so he remained quiet.

However, that didn’t stop him from admiring the blond out the corner of his eye.

He was physically fit and his blond hair shone even brighter in the dim bar lights, if that was even possible, but the most curious thing about the man were the whisker esque scars on his face.

Sasuke’s phone vibrated in his hand and he looked down at it. Suigetsu flashed across the screen..

Sasuke sighed to himself as he clicked ‘accept’ on the incoming call. He raised it to his ear, ready to hear tonight's excuse. .

“You’d better have a good excuse for standing me up tonight” Sasuke said into the phone with a huff.

His response was a round of boisterous laughter. Then,

“Listen Sasuke. There was this really cute girl who came in tonight and I just HAD TO ask her out.” Suigetsu said excitedly. Sasuke snorted and rolled his eyes.

“I'm kind of offended that you’re standing me up for a cute girl” Suigetsu snorted in response.

“Come on Sasuke. Don’t be like that. I’ll make it up to you. I swear it!” Suigetsu replied. Sasuke took another sip of his beer and set it down with an audible clank.

“Whatever Suigetsu,” Sasuke replied, then on second thought added, “don’t have too much fun tonight. Remember you have work in the morning.”

“Right back at you Uchiha! Gotta go bye!” The line went dead. Sasuke rolled his eyes again, something he did frequently with Suigetsu, and dropped his phone onto the bar. He glared at his phone before snatching up his bottle and chugging the rest of his beer, slamming the bottle down onto the bar top.

As if Sasuke had to worry about having ‘too much fun’ he was fucking Sasuke Uchiha for god’s sake. According to Suigetsu and Karin, he was ‘allergic’ to fun.

“Abandoned by your friends too huh?” A smooth voice said and Sasuke turned to see the blond was speaking to him. Sasuke actually had to blink a few times to make sure he was actually talking to him.

“Uh, Yeah. Asshole chose a date over me” Sasuke responded, still half in shock that the blond was speaking to him. Of all people. The blonde laughed and swirled his beer around in his bottle.

“Cheers to that. Sakura was supposed to meet me here after work but then the ‘cute pharmacist’ asked her out. So she was all like ‘Sorry Naruto. But she’s cuter’ bleck. Women” Whiskers muttered as his lips hovered right above the lip of his bottle. He shot Sasuke a wry smile before finishing his beer in one go. He waved the bartender over.

“What can I get you Love?” the bartender asked, leaning onto the counter. Whiskers gestured to both his and Sasuke’s beers, “Another beer for the both of us.” the bartender nodded and started to walk away, “Wait! And two shots of Tito’s Vodka please” he called after him.

“Care to share a shot with me to celebrate this fine day were both of us handsome young men have been stood up by cruel friends?” The blonde asked Sasuke dramatically, placing a hand over his heart when he said cruel. Sasuke resisted the urge to laugh. ‘

“Sure. why not” He replied, face warming as he thought about how the blonde had mentioned they were both handsome.

Normally, he wouldn’t let anyone in a bar buy him a drink and if they did it would be drank by either Suigetsu or Karin, but there was something about the blonde with the whiskers that just had him feeling… daring.

“Hallelujah.” whiskers muttered with a grin. The bartender reappeared shortly after, two beers and two shot glasses in hand. He set both of the beers and the empty shot glasses down before pouring them almost to the brim with vodka. Whiskers grinned and swiped up both shot glasses before holding one of them out to Sasuke.

Sasuke took it carefully and then they clanked them together. “To new friends” he said, still grinning.

They both downed their shots.

Now, Sasuke had never been a big fan of hard liquor, he’d drank his fair share during his highschool, and even some middle school days, but no matter how much he drank, he just couldn’t get the hang of taking shots.

So, he choked as the vodka went down. Whiskers clapped him on the back, “Atta boy!” he exclaimed, patting Sasuke’s back as he choked on the still burning liquid.

Once Sasuke had managed to sit up straight again, the blonde had moved his hand away from his back and was holding it out, as if to shake Sasuke’s hand.

“Names Naruto Uzumaki. Nice to meet you” He said. Sasuke reached out and shook his hand.

Sasuke had to take a sip of his beer before he was actually able to speak, “Sasuke Uchiha. Uh. you too” He responded then quickly began to blush. You too?? What kinda?

However, Naruto didn’t even seem fazed by Sasuke’s awkward fuck up, he just grinned back and launched himself into a story about how one of his friends had done so many fireball shots that he turned green anytime he smelt cinnamon.

****

4 hours, 4 beers and 3 more shots of vodka and Sasuke was feeling loose. He found himself giggling at all of Naruto’s bad jokes and puns, and there were definitely a lot of them. During the time they spent together at the bar, laughing and exchanging stories, Naruto did most of the talking but that was fine by Sasuke. He’d come to learn a lot about the blonde.

For example, Naruto’s favorite color was orange, no surprise there, He’s never met his biological parents and his godfather had taken him in when he was 13 and died when he was 16, he was 24, same age as Sasuke, and he graduated from Konoha High, and in return Sasuke had told Naruto that, his favorite color was blue, he lived with his parents all the way up until he was 13 when they both died in a car accident and then it had just been him and his elder brother, and he’d attended Konoha in elementary school but then he’d had to transfer to Ota-Taka for middle school and so on.

As they continued talking, Sasuke found himself giving away more and more info without a second thought, or a care. There was just something about Naruto that made Sasuke feel like he could trust him, plus it helped that Naruto was just so easy to talk to, which that within itself was almost unheard of for Sasuke.

But despite the alcohol loosening his tongue, there was one question in particular, that gave Sasuke pause.

“What do you do for a living?” Naruto asked innocently, unaware of how Sasuke’s hands had started to sweat. Sasuke chewed on the inside of his cheek. He can’t just come out and say he’s a mortician?? Thats most certainly a turn off, isn't it?

Flashbacks of his previous confessions about his job to past flings flashed through Sasuke’s head. All of them ending in something along the lines of ‘Ewwww, that’s so creepy! Who would want to do that?’ then most of the time, they’d leave, if not right that second then within a week, with some kind of cheap excuse. The ‘it's not you, its me’ bullshit, but Sasuke knew they were all just too polite to say, ‘because you work with dead people and its creepy.’

It took Sasuke a few moments to realize he hadn’t answered Naruto’s question and he swallowed hard, wracking his brain for a suitable answer that didn’t involve him telling this very very hot stranger, that he worked with dead people all day.

“Walmart” Sasuke blurted out, causing Naruto’s eyes to widen. For a split second, Sasuke worried he’d said something wrong but then Naruto burst out into laughter.

“Phew, that's a relief, you looked so scared that for a second there I thought you were about to tell me you did something really weird like…. Uhhhhh” Naruto seemed to be fighting for something to say

Sasuke prayed Naruto wasn't about to say something about morticians because that has happened before.

but finally his eyes lit up and he concluded with, “weird like you work as a porn star or something”

Sasuke choked on his beer, eyes going wide.

“That… that would be what you consider weird?!” Sasuke wheezed out, bringing around another round of laughter from the boisterous blonde.

“Well yeah! Porn stars are usually a little weird! Like what if you were into ...” Naruto glanced around before leaning in really close. “Feet” he whispered into Sasuke’s ear, causing Sasuke’s breath to hitch. Sasuke fought back a laugh.

“Well damn you caught me. Guess I'll have to go solicit feet pics from someone else” he replied. Now it was Naruto’s turn to choke and for a second, Sasuke was worried he’d said the wrong thing like always but then Naruto was laughing, which meant everything was a-okay.

“You’re something else, Sasuke Uchiha.” Naruto mumbled into his beer before taking another sip

[preraphaelitepunk]

Fictober19 Day 9: Taste Test

Prompt #9: There is a certain taste to it

Fandom: Good Omens (GO)

Characters: Aziraphale, Crowley

Rating: Teen

Warnings: None

Taste Test

Getting Aziraphale to allow a television in the back room of his shop had been interesting. The angel had taken to a few elements of the twenty-first century like a duck to another duck that the first duck really liked -- he had been terrorizing other bidders at online rare book auctions for years, and had nearly gotten the hang of ordering delivery on his elderly desktop computer. The computer, Yertle, was far too old to have any business even connecting to the internet, but since Aziraphale expected it to, it did. (Mobile phones were still a challenge, but Crowley was working on it. Progress would be increased if Aziraphale didn't sporadically pretend to have presbyopia and claim he couldn't see the words on the phone screen.)

Television, though, he resolutely resisted. It did not bring food, or new books for his hoard, or Regency snuffboxes, or anything worth while. It wasn't until Crowley thought to point out Antiques Roadshow UK, Bake Off, and Jamie Oliver that the walls began, very slightly, to crack. When he mentioned how Bluetooth headphones meant that one person (Crowley) could watch James Bond movies without disturbing anyone else (Aziraphale) with the noise, the mortar between the bricks of the wall started to flake off. When Crowley found a sleek, modern, experimental-model television that actually retracted into its base, hiding itself like something sleek and sinister and not coincidentally not blocking access to bookshelves, the walls crumbled completely.

“This is actually quite lovely, my dear,” Aziraphale mused, running a hand absently through Crowley’s hair. They’d determined early on that the ideal viewing position was the angel sitting on the battered sofa, with Crowley sprawled out and resting his head in Aziraphale’s lap. “I’m so glad you talked me into getting a televisual contraption. Oh, look: it’s another cookery show up next!”

“It’s the bloody Food Network, angel. Of course it’s going to be another food show up next. What were you expecting, Sir David Attenborough?”

“Oh, hush, foul fiend.” Aziraphale booped him gently on the nose. “Oh, it’s that sweary one. I like him.”

“Huh. Wouldn’t have thought he’d be your type.”

“Silly boy! I don’t mean I like him. Although he is not entirely unattractive, for a human.” He smiled fondly when Crowley stuck out his tongue. “I mean he reminds me a little bit of you. Very tough and sweary on the outside, but he’s actually quite kind. He just has high standards. I saw one of his shows with children, and he was so patient and supportive of them. Reminded me of you with Warlock.”

Crowley frowned at the white-clad man on the screen, evaluating. “Right now he reminds me more of me with my plants.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “Yes, he is a bit hard on the new cooks, isn’t he? Ooh, he’s going to do the blindfold thing.”

“Ngk?” Crowley had not been expecting blindfolds. This was a pre-watershed program, he’d been sure.

“It’s a blind taste test, to evaluate one’s palate. See if you can identify foods without visual cues.”

They watched in silence as the competitors tried and failed to identify basic foodstuffs. Crowley felt a twinge of sympathy, not that he’d admit it; most food tasted bland and ashen to him, and he was impressed that they’d gotten any guesses right. Aziraphale was, however, not so kind.

“Imagine not being able to tell the difference between a potato and a parsnip! What a galoot.”

“Galoot?” Crowley sat up, appalled.

“A sap. Idiot. Fool.”

“I know what a galoot is, angel. I just didn’t expect to ever hear you say that word.” Crowley sighed. “Who am I kidding? I should consider myself lucky you didn’t say ‘fopdoodle.’”

“He’s that, too.”

“It’s very easy for you to sit there and judge, you know. I bet you couldn’t do much better than that lot, if you didn’t know what you were eating and couldn’t see anything.”

Aziraphale’s eyes twinkled. “All right, you’re on. What are the stakes?”

“If I win, you have to try sleeping. Not just reading while I sleep: actually get your head down and kip.”

“Agreed. And when I win,” Aziraphale did that hideously cute thing with his eyes, glancing down and then cutting them back up at Crowley, “you will allow me to tell you how nice and wonderful and kind you are, for a full five minutes without complaining.”

“And you call me a fiend!”

A bit of rummaging around found an old tartan ascot that would serve well as a blindfold; Crowley tied it carefully, checking to make sure it wasn’t too tight and trying to ignore the angel’s happy wiggle. Best not to think on that too thoroughly; probably it was just anticipation of winning that made Aziraphale hum to himself. Crowley pulled up a random ingredient generator on his phone, and started miracling up food samples.

“Plum. Not a very ripe one.”

“Nobody said anything about ripeness, but you’re right.”

“Chicken; breast, not thigh. May I get a sip of wine, dear? Just a palate cleanse. Thank you. Tofu. Silken, I think; not water packed.”

“Tofu, yes, but it’s not anything-packed. I’m just miracling these things up.”

“Regardless: it is clearly from a UHT pack.” They worked their way through a dozen more samples. “ Ah, that cheese — gouda, I believe.”

“If you think I’m going to make a pun about gouda, angel. . . .”

“I would never think such a dreadful thing about you, my wily old serpent.”

“Thank you. But I guess you’ve proved your point. You’ve guessed them all right.”

“Oh, wonderful. But just one more, maybe? Just to make sure.” Even with the blindfold, Aziraphale had a stunningly effective pout.

“All right, then. I can’t say no to you, but I know it’s just because you like me feeding you.”

Wiggling a little, Aziraphale popped his mouth open, waiting for the next tidbit. If Crowley had been more alert, he would have been prepared. As it was, the hand that grabbed his wrist with the next morsel of food (white chocolate, with dried raspberries in) caught him totally off guard.

Aziraphale guided the food closer and nibbled, his lips brushing Crowley’s fingertips. “Mmm, white chocolate. Something else in it, though.” The tidbit had been devoured, but his hand was being drawn inexorably farther forward. “Strawberries, perhaps? No, raspberries.” A tongue flickered across Crowley’s finger, and teeth nipped playfully. “And this: so familiar, so redolent of something lovely, there’s a certain taste to it, but I can’t tell precisely what.”

“Grfl.”

“It’s absolutely scrummy, whatever it is.” And now Aziraphale gave the finger a quick suck, and Crowley’s knees threatened to give out. “Ah, I think I know now.” Aziraphale pulled off the blindfold with his free hand, and gazed up at Crowley adoringly. “It’s the taste of home, of being cherished and loved and protected. It’s the taste of my beloved, my dear heart, my darling. My Crowley.”

“Yours,” Crowley managed; the angel was peppering his hand with tiny butterfly kisses, and his thoughts were sluggish. He cleared his throat, trying to regain some composure. “So I guess you win.”

“Dearest, I won the day I fell in love with you. However,” Aziraphale added with a smirk, pulling the demon down onto his lap, “I do still intend to hold you to our bargain. And I intend to begin now.”

It was an excruciating five minutes, being complimented and praised and coddled and cuddled, but Crowley wouldn’t have traded it for anything. He might even have to arrange a similar wager again soon.

[freshlyjuicedbeetles]

Before I Rose - A V for Vendetta fic.

V’s life before Larkhill

Warnings: Dystopia, transphobia, misogyny, heteronormality, homophobia. 

The first time I realized there was something terribly wrong with this country was when they started taking away books.  

 I was a Creative Writing and Literature professor at the University of London. I was new, only in my fourth year of teaching. My name was William Murphy Dietrich. Everyone called me Murphy. I enjoyed my profession immensely. I enjoyed my students and essentially, being paid to read and impart my knowledge on nubile minds. My classes were the type where our craft was taken seriously as though it were a dying craft and we were the only ones to preserve it, to only speak in puns throughout an entire class period and laugh uncontrollably. That was what I wanted. I wanted my material and those of my students to be taken seriously, while still having an inviting comradery and dialogue with them. I had solid relationships, my students. I was a bit worried about that at first, I was only a few years older than my senior students and hoped it would not be an issue. I also taught the general education portion of Literature to first- and second-year students. I wanted them to leave me with a solid framework of knowledge about literature that would continue throughout life. Shakespeare, Faust, Borges, and Dumas, going into depth about the pieces that may have only been glossed over in secondary school or introducing entirely new works.

 The day in question started like any other. It was a Tuesday and I had my Creative Writing classes that day. It was the day the world began to end and Norsefire began. It was just after the beginning of the fall semester. The air was cool, and the leaves were starting to turn and litter the ground. I walked from the parking lot to the building that held my classrooms and office. The tube stations had been permanently shut down for a time, necessitating my need for a car despite living in London proper. I didn’t mind the make and model as long as it served its purpose and had a decent sound system. Even then, I had a ravenous appetite for music. That day, I had my earbuds firmly planted in my ears.

 Many hellos and other greetings where exchanged between myself and my other students as I made my way to the classroom. When I entered the room, my students had already assembled the room as I liked it. I would turn out the lights in my classrooms and open the blinds, allowing for natural sunlight to come in. They would move their desks in a circle. They were ready to go, with their laptops and notebooks out, chatting and laughing with their fellow classmates. I had had each student previously at least once, if not during their entire time at the university. I knew each of them well. I took an empty seat in the circle and began roll call as my own laptop started. Due to the nature of my Creative Writing class, a class that centered on peer to peer critiques, I was able to keep those classes small and intimate, ten students or less. This allowed each student to get an in-depth critique from the other students and me.

 “Morning everyone!” I called, taking a large drink of coffee. “How is everyone?”

 I was answered by a few affirmatives. I noticed one of my students, Micha, who taught his entire university career Senior, English Ed. Major, had his head down on his desk, lightly snoring.

 “Might I remind you all of my falling asleep in class policy. You subject yourself to any kind of prank I think of to wake you up and send you to the front of the class and dance to any of the songs from the Rocky Horror Picture Show to get the blood flowing.” I stated, mischievously.

 I started clapping and the rest of the class joined in, giggling and grinning. Micha soon awoke, joining in on the superfluous clapping. He yawned and looked around, noticing we were watching him. Realization dawned on him. My tactic was infamous.

 “Oh, God! You jerk, Murphy!” Micha exclaimed, holding his reddened face in hands as he chuckled good-naturedly.

 I smirked, pulling up music on my laptop. “Get up and show us your best Time Warp!”

 The class and I laughed heartily as he danced, enjoying the spectacle he was putting on. Micha went full on with the dance, enjoying it just as much as we were, making eye contact with each of us. If he had a feather boa, he would have used it. A few other students joined him in the middle of the circle, dancing as well.

 It was times like these I wondered if I would have had as much fun as I did teaching the artistic students than I would I had taught more science minded.

 “Don’t beat yourself up about it. You were a good sport. It happens, just try not to let it happen again.” I said once he finished, patting him on his back. “One day I want the band to get involved, at least the percussionists,” I said ominously.

 “Anyway, on to our topic!” I said, drumming my hands on my desk. “I want you all to write a short piece of description. Description is the meat and potatoes of writing. You must walk a line between too much and too little. Too little description and your readers are lost and disinterested. Too much and they are bored down with details and your work collapses on itself. Just the right amount centers them and gives them a visual idea of the places and characters. Think of description as decoration. Would you rather spend your time in a nicely decorated room or one that is unpleasantly sparse and utilitarian, or perhaps gaudy and overdone? Pick anyone or anything in this room or something we would all know and write about it. I’ll give you,” I paused looking at my watch. “ten minutes to write and afterward, we’ll go around the room, you’ll read your piece and we’ll try to guess what your subject matter is. Aaaand go!”

 The class nodded and starting scribbling and typing away. Ten minutes later, we started our critiques. “Who volunteers as tribute?” I asked, scanning the room for a volunteer.

 One of my newer students, Samantha, whom I had only had once the previous year, raised her hand. I smiled, nodding for her to start.

 She was nervous but excited to read her work. She smiled as her hands shook and her voice wavered and stuttered. “He stands tall and thin, short wavy black hair which he either spends hours to perfect or simply rolls out of bed. He’s partial to button up shirts, khakis, boat shoes and carries a leather satchel with earbuds almost permanently glued to his ears though it served a vital function in keeping him alive.”

 “Murphy!” The class answered.

 I grinned, giving a small, dramatic bow of my head.

 After the class, I went to my office and checked my email. I had several students emailing about a textbook snafu at the campus bookstore, university spam about events going on around campus. I was let down and disappointed when I saw an email from an intended speaker for my Literature 2 class, London based author John Hammond had to cancel due to his daughter falling ill but would be happy to reschedule. I was eager to meet him and to hear him speak and found his works insightful and thought-provoking. After sorting through emails and contacting the bookstore, I kicked my feet up on my desk and began reading my students work for a critique.

 After finishing several, there was a knock at my office door, looking up, I saw my brother, Gordon. Even though I am younger than my brother Gordon, I was his protector in school. Though tall and lanky, I was scrappy. If I saw something I didn’t like, I did what I could to fix it. Children can be little monsters, smelling fear and difference on their intended victim. I threw more than few punches for my brother until he became known as the class clown, winning people over with his wit and humor. I didn’t like my brother being harassed for things as inane as his weight. He had better things to be harassed about and only I could do so.  

 Our parents had also been professors at the university. They retired before I graduated. Our mother was a professor of botany and our father taught piano as well as several other music classes such as ‘The History of Rock and Roll’ and ‘Jazz Studies.’ Dad continued to teach piano on his own time and Mum began work on her doctorate. Both Mum and Dad taught us their trades.

 “Look who the cat drug in. The same man who won’t return my calls or texts has granted me the honor of his presence.” I teased.

 “Do you have a moment? Or 60?” He asked, nervousness lacing his voice.

 I dropped my feet from my desk, sensing the significance of the upcoming situation. “Yes, of course,” I answered, gesturing to the seat in front of my desk. He closed the office door and sat down.

 “I’m gay, brother.” He said unceremoniously.

 “Yes, I know. We all know.” I nodded casually, intending for him to go on and get to the point.

 “What?” He had an expression of relief and confusion.

 “We’ve all had the inkling for some time now. No one cares.” I replied.

 “How do you know all of this?” Gordon asked.

 “That you’re gay or their feelings?

 “Both.”

 “We talk about you when you’re not around,” I said nonchalantly, shrugging. “It seems with Mum that what made her think was your lack of female company.”

 “What? You don’t have a girl either!” Gordon blustered.

 “I am but a humble university professor, married to his craft,” I said dramatically. “It’s a horrible stereotype, but if the shoe fits. I prefer my solitude… Also, Mum found your secret stash of Japanese yaoi tentacle and tamakeri porn back in college, that may have told her something was up.”

 “If the shoe fits?” Gordon sputtered, “You don’t even wear socks half the time!”

 “That’s what you take offense to?” I laughed, “I hate constricting clothing. I’m claustrophobic.”

 Gordon huffed a sigh of relief, rubbing his face and eyes with his hands. “Well, this went better than I expected.” He sat back in the seat and thought for a moment.

 “Really? No one cares?”

 I shook my head, “Not a soul.”

 “I had a speech and everything!” Gordon complained. “Can I still do my speech?” He looked at me hopefully.

 “No.”

 “Fine. Anyway, I wanted to run this idea by you for a sketch. Sutler…in drag.”

 I winced. “Oh, that is a truly unpleasant sight. However, allow me to critique...” I paused, forming my thoughts. “You’re new. This is only your fourth season. Are you sure you can get away with that? Or that anyone could, for that matter? Sutler has an awfully thin skin.”

 Sutler rose to power in the parliament amid multiple unsavory allegations; sexual assault, rape, racism, etc. etc. He ran on the ultra-conservative ticket, promising to bring back morals and strong values, despite the vocal objections. He even had his own party; Norsefire which many believed to be a Nordic supremacy hate group. Somehow, he won his seat. In my opinion, his mouth was bigger than his mind.

 “Yeah, he’s the kind of guy who forces his prudeness on others, isn’t he? He doesn’t want to drink, so you shouldn’t either type of bloke. Still, he’s an easy target,” Gordon shrugged, grinning.

 “Just be careful. I don’t want to have to pay for postage to whatever gulag he throws you in,” I teased.

 Gordon stood, “No worries, brother. It probably won’t even air until next year. Who knows what could change between then and now?”

 Time passed. The news became more vitriolic, hijacked by Sutler and his party. One-sided news pieces and corrupted studies on how this race is less than. Pollution was skyrocketing, Ebola was creeping out of Africa like a monster in your closet.

 “Avoid contact with black people,” The news warned.

 Thousands died in a protest against ableism in Leeds when it went awry. The news admonished the protestors for being spoiled kids.

 Around the same time, the entire royal family had died in a mysterious accident while returning from the former United States. We all knew it was coming; the ravens had left.

 Sutler called for the end of the monarchy, urging that it was time to move on from such antiquated ideals. After no other rites to the thrown came forward, the regime of Norsefire began, led by Sutler himself as Chancellor. Somehow, the people found him to secure and believed he could lead the country to peace and prosperity.

 Things escalated quickly from there. It started with dogs. Breeds were being regulated to ‘no fearsome sorts’. What kind of guideline was that? My grandmother had a poodle named Terrance that Gordon and I were terrified of as boys while our cousin Charlie had a Boxer that was as sweet as could be. It seemed as though Norsefire was slowly trying to remove any sort of protection we had as citizens. Of course, they took away any weapons just short of letter openers and cap guns around the same time. It didn’t really stop the mass shooter problem either.

 I sat back and watched, stunned. I couldn’t help but remember all those times I was too lazy, too inconvenienced or refused to vote for a subpar, a lesser evil candidate. Should I have voted all those times? Did my vote, my single tick on a touchscreen, matter that much? Would the lesser evil candidate that I was just as unsure about have been a better choice than the one who won? Would my vote even count? Voter suppression was rampant. If it wasn’t that, votes had somehow ‘gotten lost’ or ‘corrupted’.

 The snow crunched under my feet as I walked to my office. I had been annoyed that day due to having to use margarine instead of butter in my eggy in the basket at breakfast. It threw off my entire morning. Mum used to make it for Gordon and me. In my inbox, an email from the university’s president caught my eye. An important and mandatory meeting was scheduled for the end of the week.

 Still, my classes continued on as normal, our own self contained and insulated bubble of freedom. We were the true kings and queens. We said what we wanted and thought as we wanted. I did not censor my students. However, I did start to lose some students who were Pro – Norsefire. Shame and fear drove the people out. It upset me. As much as I wanted to, I never tried to dissuade someone from their beliefs.

 I barely thought of the meeting during the week, my mind was bogged down with more important things such as midterm grades and the latest horror show on the news. I tried to make myself as small and inconspicuous as possible when out in public. The Fingermen, Norsefire’s pseudo, Gestapo-esque police force was itching for a fight and was above the law. Anyone who dared challenge Norsefire was met with a black bag around your head, sent to a reeducation camp. You never came back no matter what Norsefire promised.

 Before the meeting, I grabbed a coffee and a granola bar. The meeting was likely a boring housekeeping one about the upcoming instructor evaluations. I considered listening to an audiobook instead but decided to be a good employee and listen, even if it rarely deviated from the last three years’ worth of meetings.

 I took a seat in the back. The moment the President stood, the air thickened, it was something about his stance. He looked rigid and concerned. This wasn’t a regular meeting.

 “Good morning, colleagues. I am here to announce a few changes coming to the University starting immediately.”

 As I sat in the meeting, it grew worse and worse. Norsefire was going to heavily censor many of our courses, especially the gen eds. In the science department, evolution and any sexual education were being heavily censored. Our Women and Gender Studies, Religious Studies and any other classes or major pertaining to another culture, living or otherwise, was being eliminated. Basic safety in the orientation seminar was introducing abstinence-only, shame and biases which would likely decrease and reports of sexual misconduct on campus. These changes would come into effect at midnight the following day. This left upwards of a thousand students without majors and/or classes, many already in progress or nearly complete, not only disrupting their education but their living arrangements and financial aid as they were no longer enrolled.

 After the meeting, the staff and I all filed into a single line and was given a packet depending on our department of material we were no longer allowed to teach. I went back to my office and closed the door. For several moments, I sat at my desk and stared at the ugly yellow packet in front of me. Finally, I opened it. Inside, there was a list of books, poems and short stories I was not allowed to teach. Failure to comply would result in revocation of my credentials and degrees, expulsion from the university, a hefty fine and a sentence to a reeducation camp.

 “So, this is how education dies…”

 To Kill a Mockingbird: Maybe not all people of color are criminals.

 The Outsiders: Don’t let the nasty world beat the good out of you.

 The Scarlet Letter: Hester Prynne was without womanly shame.

 The Life of Pi: Not Christian enough.

 The Perks of Being a Wallflower: Weirdness is not bad and does not villainize a gay character.

 The Hunger Games: That’s obvious. A young woman who overthrows a dystopian government? It was one of the first to go.

 I am Malala, Harry Potter, Fahrenheit 451, Ellen Hopkins, Kurt Vonnegut, Darwin, Huxley, Angelou. The cultural mind was closing. Anybody who wasn’t white and Christian was a bad person.

 The day the changes went into effect was a sorrowful but angered one. In my classes, the mood was akin to death in the family. Instead of starting our lesson on Hemmingway and the Iceberg Theory, the changes were of discussion, even before I came into the room, my students were already in a heated debate about it. I just watched out the window at the campus below, my back to my class, as they ranted.

 “How can they do this? We have rights!” Josie exclaimed, her fist pounding her desk.

 “Not anymore.” Zach scoffed.

 “I can’t wrap my mind around this. Haven’t these people picked up a history book before? This shit has happened before, and it did not turn out well!”

 “Villains believe they are the heroes of their stories.” Kenny mused.

 “They’re humans like us and everyone else. They’re stupid like all other humans. We always think that we can do it better than the generations before us.”

 I had a few students who were utterly silent. I could tell they were wondering what was next.

 “This is fucking ridiculous!” Colton exclaimed, knocking over his desk.

 It was time to intervene. I turned to my class and was quite stunned to see that barely any of my classes had deserters, as Piper called them. Out of the five classes I taught, I had only lost five students. I would like to think that I had loyal students who were freethinkers and trusted me that caused this, while other arts classes suffered.

 “I think it’s best that we all take time to process this.” The first syllable out of my mouth calmed the ruckus.

 “Continue reading Hemmingway and working on your final. Remember, you have a choice to write a five-hundred-word essay analyzing Hemmingway’s techniques in his published works or a ten-page short story emulating his techniques in an original work. I still need the decisions from a few of you. Please have them to me by Thursday so you have ample time to work. You are all dismissed.”

 Music, movies and television shows did not fare any better. Anything more than mindless dribble and noise was either heavily censored or blacklisted. Celebrities were just as fair game when it came to the black bags as any other average bloke. Tabloids and gossipmongers didn’t seem affected though. I guess it pays to know which debutante had gone rogue.

 Words like collateral and rendition became curses, no longer appropriate for polite conversation. Rendition, another word for interpretation. In Norsefire’s world, nothing is left to interpretation and Norsefire tells you the ‘right’ interpretation and anyone who believes otherwise is a traitor. Collateral another word of security. Norsefire does not want you to feel safe and secure. If you do, why would you need such extremes that Norsefire uses?

 I should have known what would happen next.

 “Where’s Daniella?” I asked my Creative Writing 2 class. I hadn’t seen her in days and it was unlike her to miss a class, “Has anyone seen her?”

 The class looked back and forth at each other like they were in on a secret I wasn’t. “She was black bagged last week,” Skylar said quietly, her words heavy.

 Of course. She was black and a transwoman; a complete undesirable in Norsefire’s eyes.

 “Oh.” Was all I could say. Part of me was planning a daring adventure to break her out. The other was already beaten into submission.

 “Holy shit…” Preston said, his eyes wide and mouth agape as he slowly stood up looking out the window.

 We all clambered to the window overlooking the university center. The group Young Norsefire had signs and tables sat up. On the tables were books and Norsefire regalia and lighters. A distance away, several male students were starting a bonfire.

 It was a book burning.

 ‘Something is terribly wrong with this country,’ I thought, my face inches from the glass.

 My class and I stared in stunned silence. I had never seen a book burning before. It felt so primitive, so subhuman. Once the fire caught on, books were thrown with glee.

 “I think Wyatt Sanders just threw a copy of the Koran.”

 “Yeah, his buddy Josh just threw in The Great Gatsby.”

 “There goes John Steinbeck.”

 “And Stephen King.”

 I began to close the blinds and turned on the classroom lights.

 “Forget what’s happening out there. We still have class.” I said as I sat down in the circle. I continued class as the cheers of the Norsefire indoctrinated and smell of burnt paper permeated the room.

The latest social media trend became one of proudly burning books, submerging and otherwise defiling e-readers and wiping audio and e-books from their device’s memories. ALS Bucket Challenge – eat your heart out. Almost every video ended with the person or people yelling “England Prevails!” like a war cry. I had already seen too much of this for one lifetime.

 The news of the changes hit my department hard, but not as much as I expected. Still, enrollment in arts courses was dropping and we had lost several faculty members. It wasn’t just so that they were to pursue other career opportunities or earn a more ‘practical’ degree, Norsefire was truly frightening them. Anything that made them truly think was wrong and hurtful. Books and words carried ideas that Norsefire perverted into something scary.

 As though it couldn’t get any worse, during Christmas Mass with Sutler in attendance, a bomb was denotated. He was the lone survivor of just short of five hundred people, men, women, children, families. The news praised him for trying to save as many as he could and what a tragedy it was that he couldn’t save a soul. His photo, one of him in a tattered sweater, soot-covered and holding the mangled corpse of a little girl, her dress bloodied beyond recognition and his anguished face was splashed everywhere possible.

 I wasn’t sure if it was staged by his people or what, but it seemed to spook him nonetheless. Curfews were being instilled and roving surveillance vans were dispatched, patrolling the country. Sutler said that if they could hear the plans as they were being made, another bombing could be stopped. Voices sprang up in objection but were silenced, chided, that the surveillance was for our, your protection.

 Soon, official portraits of the Chancellor were shipped to every home in the British Isles “to be displayed prominently in your home” as a show of pride in our country and faith in our leader. I grimaced when mine arrived. I didn’t want a portrait of a creepy old man hanging above my mantle. It was soon forgotten under a pile of old coats in my closet. I half expected his eyes to be bugged with cameras.

 There was one bright spot on the horizon; Gordon’s new season would soon air with the first episode being the Sutler in drag one. I usually watched Gordon’s show but never made actual commitments to, but I really wanted to see this one.

 As the ten o’ clock news was ending, droning on about the war and chaos, I sat down with a late-night snack of junk that may kill me one day.

 Gordon started with his opening monologue about current events, making fun of celebrity baby names and such. He continued one of his most popular skits, The Boring Dystopia. His character was Norm Hall who tries to navigate an unjust society. On this night, in particular, he was pressured into buying designer oxygen due to air pollution.

 After several others and a few commercial breaks, Gordon sat at his desk and addressed his audience.

 “Esteemed viewers. It’s good to be back for a new season. I’d like to thank you from the bottom of my cold black heart for allowing me this honor.”

 The clicking of high heels on tile was heard on the stage, but Gordon continued to speak.

 “Ahem,” A masculine voice said off-screen.

 Gordon feigned shock as the camera panned just to Gordon’s right.

 Sutler stood there haughtily, in a black corset and panties, his hand on his hip in all his wrinkled glory. His rouge was too bright and unblended, his blue eyeshadow went past his bushy eyebrows. His fishnets hung loosely like his skin on his hairy legs as he twirled a ratty boa.

 I had just taken a drink of my soda. I inhaled to laugh, sending the carbonation throughout my sinuses. I laughed heartily even though I could hear the bubbles from my soda popping. It took several moments to compose myself. Every time I thought I was okay, I looked at the screen and the fit started again. I barely grasped what was going on. Something about Sutler being upset that he wasn’t invited as a guest. I had to leave the room when Sutler propped himself on Gordon’s lap, I could barely breathe.

 I blew my nose and wiped my eyes. I sent a text to Gordon giving him my approval of the skit. Then I noticed I had an email. I received an email from the president of the university saying government funding was being severely cut, my department receiving the brunt of it. I was ordered to update my yearly budget to meet the new criteria. A few minutes after the email was sent, my department chair sent an email to all teaching staff about a peaceful rally starting in front of the Language Arts building on campus and walking to the Norsefire headquarters. I immediately signed up. This was the last straw. I was done standing by and idly watching.  

 The email included several do’s and don’ts of rally safety. There were several things I needed for the rally. A comfortable pair of shoes, for one.

 My phone buzzed constantly with emails going back and forth of people confirming their attendance. Then, the email was sent to students who rapidly confirmed that they would attend as well.

 I started to feel giddy like I was planning a surprise. Sleep would not be happening any time soon, so I got dressed and hit the shops for rally necessities.

 I grabbed one of each charger cords available just in case one of my students or colleagues needed them. I bought a new power bank just to be safe. I couldn’t deny the practicality of a first aid kit or small clear bags in the accessory’s aisle. Columbine may have been years ago and in another country, but no one could argue the importance of a clear bag. I thought of even buying a special outfit and mask for the occasion but reeled myself in.

 I’m sure I looked quite odd to the lady at the till with my basket full of cords, clear backpacks, a first aid kit and a new pair of shoes.

 On the day of the rally, at 3:15 on the dot, everyone participating would abruptly stop what they were doing, especially if in the middle of a class and leave. We would all meet at the university center and walk the short distance to Norsefire headquarters.

3:15 fell during my Creative Writing 2 class. Several students had signs with them. “A couple of things before we leave. Your finals are due this time next week at 5PM. Please make sure you have them to me before then.”

I looked around the room for any questions or signs of confusion on their faces.

 I nodded, “Now about the rally. Remember, it is a peaceful one. No touching, not hitting, no fighting any counter protesters we may see. That includes yelling. If you feel you may be enticed to act out, Professor Martin has earplugs to drown out their voices.

 I began to pull out the clear backpacks from under my desk. “I bought these for all of you. I don’t want the police to think you’re hiding a single thing. Please, use these instead.”

 Several students hurried forward and claimed a bag.

 “Please be aware of your surroundings! I cannot stress the importance of the buddy system enough. You stay with your buddy, you look out for buddy. This includes the mundane things like making sure you’re both hydrated. It will keep your energy up and voices strong. Even if it’s only five degrees out, you can still pass out from dehydration. I wouldn’t put it past Norsefire to see your unconscious body as an easy target.

 “Make sure your phones are all charged fully. Even better, have external batteries or power banks. I have an iPhone XR and plenty of charger cords for several other models in my bag if you need a boost.  

 “I hope you told someone who will not be in attendance today that you will be going to this rally, as the original email instructed. If not, please do so now.

 Several heads bowed to send texts.

 “There is a very real possibility some it, not all us of could be hurt and/or arrested. Tell your contact they will hear from you at a certain time after the rally and if they do not, they must call a civil rights lawyer. In a similar vein,” I said as I dug in my leather satchel for permanent markers and began tossing them throughout the class.

 “Write an emergency contact number on your person in case you are arrested, and your phone is taken away.

 “As we march and when we get to Norsefire’s headquarters, keep your eyes moving. Anyone who looks suspicious is suspicious. Tell someone. Also, plan you exit if things go south. As we planned, all our rides back home will be parked a few blocks away and out of sight. It’ll be our home base of sort. Professors Tobias and Moore will be there with drinks and snacks if anyone needs them.

 “Water makes pepper spray worse. I see some of you already have masks. If you do not, Colton Pruitt as plenty extra, please wear a mask. If you are sprayed, milk will neutralize it.

 “If you plan to stream, go live or film during the rally, please be careful not to show any other protester’s face. Someone may get doxed. However, you see any of Norsefire or the police doing anything wrong, film it.

 “Lastly, if you do get arrested, remain calm and do not fight or argue. It’ll only make the situation worse. The best way you can fight back is in court. Do not run your mouth at the police or while you’re in jail. It can be used against you. Ask for a lawyer and sit tight. After you get out, document as much evidence as you can – any injuries you may have sustained when you were being detained and held, names, badge numbers and so on and forth. Any questions?”

 None. I was met with resolute faces.

 “Then let’s go.”

 My students and I filed out the classroom as several others did as well. We all formed a large mass as others joined from the rest of the university.

 In a sense, we were anonymous. No one outside of campus knew who we were. To Norsefire we were simply an idea personified. We were unfiltered and uncensored education.

 There was chanting, “EDUCATION is a RIGHT! That is why we HAVE TO FIGHT!” I stayed silent. We walked the several blocks, everyone on the street making way for us and some even joining.

We grew stronger with each person. As we drew near to the headquarters, we locked arms. I was locked with Piper and Micha.

 We turned the corner and the ominous black and red building came into view. Fingermen and men with guns were stationed out front.

 We gathered around the front of the building, waving our pithy signs and chanting our chants. Trying to draw the Chancellor out.

 “Pay cuts for teachers? We say NO! Tax the people with lots of dough!”

 I noticed two Fingermen were watching me, whispering to each other, not taking their eyes off me. I swallowed hard and tried to remain calm. I really did not want to spend the night in a jail cell. One spoke into the radio on his shoulder.

 My face went warm and my hearing turned to static. I disentangled myself from Micha and Piper and burrowed deeper into the crowd, not even releasing I broke a cardinal rule of rally safety: always stay with your buddy.

 Someone grabbed my shoulder.

 “Gordon Dietrich?”

 I turned, about to correct whoever was behind me.

 “That’s him,” Another voice said. “Bag him.”

 “I’m not Gordon! I’m not Gordon!” I hollered.

 Black linen soon covered my face.

[crypticcravings]

Christmas Bug Chapter 3

It’s finally here! Six months late! @adventures-in-mangaland​ Merry Christmas in June! Here’s the final chapter in your Secret Santa gift! 

Also on Ao3

Marinette wasn’t able to fully process her discovery until she was finally alone the next day. She’d passed the last twelve hours as if she were watching a scene in a movie instead of actually experiencing it.

Looking back on the past ten years, there were plenty of signs. Adrien disappeared with thinly veiled excuses about as often as she did, and now she understood why. Not that she had questioned it much in the past. She had been too focused on getting away herself to think about what he was doing. And Cat Noir had shown signs, too. The feather allergy should have been the first indication, but lots of people had allergies! Why should she question that?

By that afternoon, she was wondering how she could have been so blind. It seemed so obvious.

Now that she thought about it, with Hawkmoth “defeated”--that’s what they were saying, at least, since he had been so silent for the past few years-- they didn’t have any real reason to hide their identities from one another. Not anymore. Though neither one had brought it up to each other in several years.

Maybe it was time to do so.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Adrien was ecstatic. The date was set. Christmas eve, he would make Marinette a nice, romantic dinner, then they would browse through the Christmas Market at the base of the Eiffel Tower. He would wait until the sun was setting, and he would get down on one knee and ask her to marry him. Then, they would return to his apartment where they would have dessert with some of their friends and family to celebrate. It was a simple plan. Maybe a little bit cliche, but he stood by it. After all, the only thing he cared about was spending his life with this lovely lady.

Now, all that's left was to wait.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She was being weird. She knew she was being weird, but she couldn’t stop. The only contact she’d had with Adrien/Cat Noir in the last 24 hours since her discovery had been through a couple of quick text messages between his ever busy schedule. But it was patrol night, and she’d been forced to face him without the buffer of a screen between them. For some reason, the mask of composure she’d had the day before with Adrien left her. Something about the knowledge that it was her boyfriend, her supermodel, amazingly attractive, pun loving, ever supportive boyfriend poured into that leather cat suit made her brain short circuit. And she was having a hard time convincing herself that this was the first time she’d noticed how much she enjoyed looking at him in it.

She was sure he noticed how wildly she swung between tense silence and near incoherent babbling. Fortunately enough, even Cat Noir was used to her occasional strange moods and didn’t pry, trusting her to come to him when the time was right. It hadn’t always been that way. When they were younger, he had poked and prodded at her over every little thing. But at some point, he began to realize that the easiest way to get her to open up to him was to give her some space to sort things out on her own first, even if he really wanted to know.

Guilt gnawed at her. She wanted to tell him, she realized, that she had figured him out. She hadn’t been looking, but she’d found him anyway. Keeping this knowledge behind his back felt like a violation.

Unfortunately, she was never good at finding the right moments for revelations like these. They patrolled for an hour and a half, and the entire time, she couldn’t bring herself to broach the subject of their identities. So, she sent him off with a halfhearted, unenthused “see ya later” before swinging off to her own apartment for a late night stress snack and another fitful night’s sleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Work kept Marinette blessedly busy the next day. She wasn’t sure if she could take much more of her brain turning over itself. Between the need to confess, the now obvious signs that she kept going over and over in her mind that her boyfriend was her partner all along, and the now growing excitement at that discovery, she was getting emotional whiplash. But, the office would be closed for the next few days for the holiday, and Marinette had quite a bit of work to get done before she locked up her desk for the break.

She was midway through making some changes that a senior designer marked on her sketches when her text tone buzzed on her phone. Tikki brought the device across the room so that Marinette barely had to put down her pencil to check the message.

Adrien: Date night. 1630 tomorrow. Don’t forget!

Adrien: And leave your design book at the office this time.

Marinette snorted. As if she would actually forget about their Christmas Eve date. Most families would be spending the evening together and having a nice, formal dinner. Adrien and his father hadn’t had such a tradition in years, and Marinette’s family opted to just celebrate on Christmas day when they could convince her grandparents to come together. So, for the past four Christmases, ever since they started university, Marinette and Adrien had spent the holiday-eve together.

And this year’s date would be the perfect setting for her to confess her recent discovery.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Adrien’s heart was officially pounding right out of his chest.

Dinner had been spectacular, of course. The restaurant he’d selected was a small, newly opened bistro within a short walk of the Eiffel Tower. They’d had roasted capon, greens, and potatoes that were all even better than his father’s private chefs had ever made, leaving the two of them stuffed. It hadn’t taken much to steer Marinette away from the dessert menu. He couldn’t very well tell her that her parents were at his apartment putting the finishing touches on their celebration sweets.

Fortunately, she mentioned a craving for mulled wine, allowing Adrien the perfect segue into the Christmas market.

It was already dark by the time they arrived at the base of the tower, and it was predictably busy, which did put a small damper on the idyllic, romantic picture Adrien had painted in his mind, but his plans were far from ruined. How could they be when his beautiful girlfriend looked so precious all bundled up, blowing on her steaming mug of wine?

Her hair was pulled back into low twin tails, a style he hadn’t seen her wear in several years. It reminded him of their high school years. Her little, upturned nose was rosy from the chill, and her delicate fingers clutched the souvenir mug tightly to leech its warmth.

In a few minutes, she was going to be his fiancée . If she said yes, that is. Plagg, Nino, Alya, and her parents had repeatedly assured him that she would say yes, would never even consider saying no. Even he knew his fears were baseless, but he couldn’t help the trill of anxiety that rang through him.

He took a deep breath, steadying himself, before leading Marinette a little bit away from the packed crowds of the Christmas Market. They walked quietly down the Champs de Mars , away from the tower, until it stood brightly over them. The crowd around them thinned out to the point that they had some measure of privacy.

The little velvet box was heavy in his pocket.

As the two of them approached an unoccupied bench, Adrien glanced up at the starless night sky, then to his girlfriend’s pink cheeks.

Her clear blue eyes met his, the corners crinkling with the brightness of her smile, and he knew more than ever that he wanted to spend his life with this woman. That thought pushed past all remaining anxiety that muddled his brain.

Without another moment of hesitation, Adrien placed his hands over Marinette’s where she clutched the mug of wine. Her eyes widened and the chilled flush of her cheeks deepened. Adrien gave her a reassuring smile as he took the mug from her hands and placed it on the bench next to them. He kept one hand on her’s, a serene feeling he hadn’t expected filling his very soul as he took a deep breath and reached into his jacket pocket.

“Marinette, the last five years with you have been some of the best of my life,” Adrien began, the words he’d been rehearsing in front of his mirror for days tumbling out of him. He pulled the small, green box out of his pocket and braced himself to get down on one knee.

Marinette’s wide eyes locked onto that little box. He heard her breath catch, felt the way her fingers tightened around his. The redness in her cheeks rose even more.

“They’ve been the best in my entire life, and that’s why I have something very important to ask you.” But just as Adrien began to sink to his knee--

“I know your secret,” Marinette exclaimed.

Well that was...not even remotely what he was expecting her to say. Adrien nearly toppled over as his balance faltered. Her firm grip on his hand kept him upright and he returned to full height. His brows knit together.

He opened his mouth to ask what she was talking about when she cut him off again, her voice much quieter this time,but still carrying that same heat as before. “I know that you’re Cat Noir.”

His eyes widened, and his heart stopped dead in his chest. Panic tried to rise, but at the moment he was too dumbfounded to even get that far. “I--” On impulse, he tried to come up with some kind of excuse. He was suddenly fourteen again, trying to explain his tardiness to a stern physics teacher. Say something, idiot!

But Marinette continued. “It’s not like you’re bad at hiding it or anything. You’re actually really good at keeping it a secret. And it’s not your fault that I know, either! I don’t want you to feel like you’ve done anything wrong, but I had to tell you because it isn’t fair that I know, and you didn’t know that I know, and you don’t know about me either. That would be so messed up, right?” She let out a strangled laugh and slapped her free hand against her forehead. “I’m rambling.” She took a deep breath to steady herself.

Adrien waited, not wanting to interrupt, and afraid to even breathe.

“I know you’re Cat Noir because I’m Ladybug.” Marinette tucked one of her ponytails behind her ear, revealing the same reddish-black earrings she’s worn the entire time he’s known her.

Earrings, he suddenly realized, that looked a lot like what Ladybug’s miraculous would look like in their dormant state.

Adrien’s eyes brightened as he took the woman in front of him in. Long, low pigtails that had once been Marinette’s signature look. That continued to be a part of Ladybug’s.

Deep, blue eyes that narrowed when she was lost in thought, and the little upturned nose that scrunched up when she laughed.

It was like a grimy film was suddenly washed clean and he could see Marinette for the first time. And what he saw was His Lady.

Marinette fidgeted under his gaze, but did not let go of his hand.

Adrien didn’t let go, either.

Instead, with the little green box still in his grasp, he clutched her hand with both of his. He was sure any outsider would think him absolutely manic with how broadly he was grinning, but he didn’t care. “Well,” he remarked, unable to stifle the giddiness in his voice, “I guess the cat’s out of the bag.”

Marinette sputtered at the pun, but he ignored her, continuing, “And since I already told Ladybug the rest of my secrets, I’m sure you already know what I was going to ask you.”

“Ask me?” She blinked at him, a look of confusion crossing her face.

“That big, important question that I’ve been planning on asking my girlfriend. On Christmas Eve.” All anxiety about popping the question disappeared the moment she told him who she was. Whether they knew it or not, Ladybug and Cat Noir had always been a matching pair. He pulled her close to him and wrapped his arm around her waist. He flipped the lid of the ring box open and presented it to her for what he realized was the second time.

Marinette suddenly remembered the circumstances of her discovering his identity in the first place. She had been so wrapped up in figuring out how she was going to tell him she knew that she completely forgot that Cat Noir had been planning on proposing to his girlfriend on Christmas Eve. And if Cat Noir was Adrien, that made her Cat Noir’s girlfriend, which meant….

Marinette swallowed, her heart now racing for a totally new reason.

“So, Ladybug,” Adrien said, his feline grin making her brain short circuit, “The past ten years with you have been the absolute greatest in my life. Now that I know our history together goes so much deeper than friendship and romance, I know that there is no way I can live without you by my side. You are the bravest, smartest, strongest, most beautiful woman in the world. All I want is to build a life with you. A family. Marinette, My Lady, will you do this pitiful stray the honor of marrying me?”

Marinette’s eyes burned. As if he even had to ask. Throat tight, she finally managed to speak again. “Yes.”

At her breathless response, Adrien’s heart soared with joy. He closed the distance between them, tightening their embrace, and sealed the engagement with a kiss. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out what he had done to be so lucky as to marry the one true love of his life.

[funface2]

Paul Merton’s 36 best jokes and funniest one-liners from Have I Got News for You – iNews

He’s a mainstay of long-running panel show Have I Got News For You, and now funny-man Paul Merton is on a mission to unearth long-lost ancestors as part of BBC One’s Who Do You Think You Are?

To celebrate the quick-quipper’s nearly 40-year career, we’ve compiled almost as many of his best jokes and one-liners from his work on HIGNFY and beyond.

“I’m always amazed to hear of air crash victims so badly mutilated that they have to be identified by their dental records. What I can’t understand is, if they don’t know who you are, how do they know who your dentist is?”

Angus Deayton: “And did you chat with the Queen Mother?” Paul Merton: “We talked about you.” Angus Deayton: “No, you didn’t.” Paul Merton: “Yes, we did.” Angus Deayton: “What did she say about me?” Paul Merton: “I’ve never heard such language in all my life.”

“I’ll never forget my first experience of swede. It was at school and I thought I was getting mashed potato. I’ve never got over it.”

“If you stay in a house and you go to the bathroom and there’s no toilet paper, you can always slide down the banisters. Don’t tell me you haven’t done it.”

“I don’t consider myself a fashion victim. I consider fashion a victim of me.”

Ian Hislop: “And they’re behind Theresa May like Stormtroopers!” Paul Merton: “You’re having one of your turns again, Ian! You asked us to tell you when it happens! His nose bleeds when he has to deal with Popular Culture…”

“I think Iran and Iraq had a war simply because their names are so similar. They keep getting each other’s post.”

(Photo: BBC)

“Every story ever written’s in the Dictionary! You just have to put the words in the right order.”

“Gromit is one of the great silent comedians. He’s up there with Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplin. He may even be above them, because he’s still working.”

Sean Lock: “Only 2% of people go to church in this country.” Paul Merton: “And they’re priests!”

Jacob Rees-Mogg: “We know the plan! We are going to leave the EU! Brexit means Brexit!” Paul Merton: “That’s the Aim! What’s the plan?”

“My school days were the happiest days of my life, which should give you some indication of the misery I’ve endured over the past 25 years.”

“All disc jockeys are without talent. Noel Edmonds – I can’t stand Noel Edmonds.”

“Bono was up on stage saying ‘Every time I click my fingers, a child dies!’ and someone yelled ‘Well, stop clicking your fingers, then!’”

“The first Underground station ever opened was Baker Street in 1906. What was the point of that? Where would you go?”

[On Chris Evans] “He’s got the look of a comedian but without the talent or the writing ability or the timing.”

(Photo: Getty)

“On my first day in New York a guy asked me if I knew where Central Park was. When I told him I didn’t, he said: ‘Do you mind if I mug you here?’”

Clive Anderson: “Do you still live in Islington as well, Boris?” Boris Johnson: “Partly, yes.” Paul Merton: “I don’t think you live on the planet Earth, never mind Islington!”

“It’s amazing how many people think they’ve got dignity to lose, isn’t it?”

[On the Queen at Harry and Meghan’s reception] “She’ll have a footman chucking cheesy Wotsits at her.”

“Am I the only one who’s always tempted to light the wick on top of a beret?”

“My aunt died at precisely 10.47am and the old grandfather clock stopped at precisely the same time also. It fell on her.”

“Anne Widdecombe is the Odd One Out because she’s the only one holding a Decapitated Barn Owl.”

“There are various ways to give up smoking – nicotine patches, nicotine gum. My auntie used to pour a gallon of petrol over herself every morning.”

Frankie Boyle: “A new Superbreed of Sex-Mad, Sleepless Slugs has arrived from Spain.” Paul Merton: “Ah, an Alliterative Threat!”

(Photo: BBC)

“My hair’s got a life of its own. Last week I found it in the kitchen, making an omelette…”

[On reading the A to Z] “Can’t wait to see what happens at the end. The characters aren’t up to much but the places, they seem so real.”

“I used to go out with a giraffe. Used to take it to the pictures and that. You’d always get some bloke complaining that he couldn’t see the screen. It’s a giraffe, mate. What do you expect? ‘Well he can take his hat off for a start!’”

“Mugabe is a Yorkshireman in reverse. Because his name is Ee by gum backwards. 37 years waiting for that laugh…”

“You’ve heard of Sheep gambolling in the meadows, well it was Poker they were playing!”

Paul Merton: “He doesn’t look old enough to have been a Milkman for 50 years!” Host: “They start them very young there. As soon as you can reach the udder, you’re away.” Paul Merton: “That’s not just Milkmen. For many people, that’s a good night out!”

“It’s silly to make generalisations, but if you talk to anyone in the south for longer than five minutes, they will try to sell you fruit.”

Paul Merton: “There are other reasons for squinting in bed, of course.” Angus Deayton: “Such as?” Paul Merton: “Use your imagination, Angus! We’d send out a search party for it, but they’d never come back!”

“Michael Gove! That is how a man dresses when his wife doesn’t see him leaving the house.”

(Photo: BBC)

Host: “But who would have loved to have been there? Justin O’ Schmidt!” Paul Merton: “Did the vicar drop him at the Baptism?”

“I’ve never been disappointed by politicians. I’ve never invested that much in them in the first place.”

More jokes:

38 of the funniest cat jokes and memes Jeremy Hardy: remembering the comedian’s funniest jokes and quotes 34 of the best Valentine’s Day jokes and funniest one-liners 30 of Michael McIntyre’s best jokes and funniest one-liners Best father of the bride jokes for a wedding speech to remember 100 best Christmas jokes and funniest festive season one-liners 100 of the funniest dirty jokes that will make you laugh and gasp Vic Reeves and Bob Mortimer’s 41 best jokes and most surreal quotes 30 of the best jokes about Theresa May 25 of Dara Ó Briain’s best jokes and funniest quotes 38 of the funniest Russell Howard jokes The 28 funniest Greg Davies jokes and quotes The best Graham Norton jokes and most scathing put-downs Here are 10 of the funniest jokes written by kids 35 of the funniest jokes by Northern comedians The 31 funniest South Park jokes and quotes 100 of the funniest ever jokes and best one-liners 100 of the best knock knock jokes (some of which are actually funny) 26 of Seann Walsh’s greatest jokes 16 of Barry Chuckle’s greatest jokes 34 of Lee Evans’ funniest jokes and quotes 30 of Romesh Ranganathan’s funniest jokes and quotes 26 of Sara Pascoe’s funniest jokes and quotes 41 of Eddie Izzard’s funniest jokes and quotes 41 of David Mitchell’s funniest jokes and quotes 21 of Rhod Gilbert’s funniest jokes and one-liners 45 of the funniest 8 out of 10 Cats jokes 41 of Stewart Francis’ most ingenious jokes and one-liners 19 of the funniest World Cup jokes from stand-up comedians 30 of Jack Whitehall’s funniest jokes 43 of the funniest Donald Trump jokes 100 pun-based jokes that will make you laugh and cringe 50 Edinburgh Fringe one-liners that deserved to win Funniest Joke 31 Best Man jokes that will work for any wedding 100 of the funniest short jokes that will have you laughing in seconds 105 of the best bad jokes 105 of the best clean jokes and one-liners 50 football jokes to make you laugh – or groan 100 of the best jokes for kids that are actually funny 25 of Peter Kay’s most ingenious jokes and one-liners 26 of Stewart Lee’s most gloriously acerbic jokes 49 of Monty Python’s funniest jokes 45 of Ricky Gervais’ funniest jokes 17 of Ken Dodd’s most ingeniously funny jokes 27 of Sarah Millican’s laugh out loud jokes 50 of Jimmy Carr’s funniest jokes and one-liners 50 of Milton Jones’s most ingenious jokes and one-liners 50 of Tim Vine’s most ingenious jokes and one-liners 50 of Frankie Boyle’s funniest (and darkest) jokes 25 of Charlie Brooker’s most cutting jokes and insults 25 of Lee Mack’s wittiest jokes and one-liners 75 of Billy Connolly’s best jokes, one-liners and quips 30 of the best-ever jokes about Scotland – from Scotland

And some hilarious quotes:

29 best Gavin and Stacey quotes and funniest jokes from James Corden and Ruth Jones’ comedy 38 of the funniest Ron Swanson quotes that made Parks and Recreation unmissable 31 Richard Madeley quotes, gaffes and surreal moments that prove he truly is Alan Partridge Valentine’s poems: 32 most romantic quotes from history’s greatest poets 38 of the most darkly funny League of Gentlemen quotes 41 of the funniest quotes from The Good Place about life and death 30 of Stephen Fry’s funniest jokes and quotes Burt Reynolds’ greatest quotes – remembering the actor’s wit and wisdom following his death aged 82 23 of Outnumbered’s funniest (and possibly unscripted) quotes) 35 of Blackadder’s most cunning quips and insults 29 of the most outlandishly funny Mighty Boosh quotes 20 of the most absurdly funny quotes from Nathan Barley 39 of the greatest Brass Eye and Day Today quotes 25 of the most outrageous Summer Heights High quotes 25 of Rik Mayall’s greatest quotes 25 of the funniest ever Still Game quotes 50 of the funniest Father Ted quotes Red Dwarf: 30 of the funniest quotes and one-liners Derry Girls: 35 of the funniest quotes and one-liners 25 of the most cantankerous Martin Crane quotes from Frasier 25 of the most ‘textbook’ Alan Partridge quotes 50 of the best lines from Peep Show 20 of The Young Ones’ most gloriously silly quotes

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[legionofpotatoes]

My expanded thoughts on Anthem if anyone cares, under the cut

Here’s the thing about this thing. I had a very fun weekend with the Anthem VIP demo overall, despite its own damn self a lot of the time. That’s the short of it.

But I feel as a lifelong Bioware fan that’s been sucking off singleplayer titles and mercilessly dunking on competitive gaming I should like, Elaborate(tm)

Firstly yes, it was plagued by client-side bugs on launch, so the start was a fair bit wonky. I was trying to enter freeplay for like 3 hours. The incredible music kept me sane, but as the thankfully transparent communication came in it became apparent it wasn’t an easy issue so I chalked it up to bad connectivity shenanigans that won’t rear its head in the future. The devs genuinely worked tirelessly to get it fixed, so when I finally got to the meat and potatoes of it all I shed prior biases and tried to focus. What I found an intriguing new world wrapped in a type of game that still felt very.. alien to me. And yet it also felt like it had a Bioware heart beating underneath its shell. 

Which can mean fuckall nowadays, I know; but speaking about story based on the demo is wack because the context and flow of world-building is difficult to grasp; the slice here throws us in the middle of the story with no training wheels and much of exposition locked away for the full thing. There is definitely a very rich, purposefully-built lore here (already there are traces of Bioware’s signature motifs with the legacy of Helena Tarsis, the politically motivated factions of Bastion, the controversial emergence of cyphers, etc), and it seems intent on making its fat points throughout the critical path. That I found reassuring, since my multiplayer-averse ass will eventually need to latch on to something more gratifying than loot chases in order to keep invested.

Of course that fundamentally means that the game is not FOR me, per se. Nor would I say it’s for anyone who loves single-player games exclusively and thinks of Bioware as that particular stamp factory. This is not a campaign-driven RPG that has multiple gameplay pillars feeding its narrative. And it definitely is not doing backwards flips trying to pretend to be one (Fort Tarsis initially felt like that exact type of posturing, but it has a pleasantly balancing function instead). It has one pillar and one pillar only, and that’s the loot chase. Whether or not Anthem will be a good game depends wholly on its commitment to make said pillar into the crux of everything it contains. And so far said commitment is a bit vague - it has a nice basis for these systems, but variety, presentation, and balance seem very much at their infancy.

I say this because I have tried my hand at other games of similar type - Destiny, Warframe, Borderlands, and Overwatch. No others but I think this is a good enough blueprint to analyze Anthem’s part on the market - all of these titles dwindled out on me because of the loot chase eventually being prioritized to the point of absolution, with story, character building, and even palatable gameplay pacing (how fucking fast are WF and OW, jesus christ) sacrificed at the altar of frighteningly well-calculated doses of FUN. It all feels indulgent (which is not bad) and a bit pointless in the end (this is my own high-horse take), and as I understand that’s what kind-of makes them successful. 

And Anthem IS geared more-or-less the same way. It’s an experiment of a game that tries its best at separating storytelling from the loot chase in a way that one does not interfere with the other. The lore and worldbuilding is very clearly designed to support that structure. Which is good for obvious identity crisis reasons - this isn’t a game pretending or trying to please many audiences, something Bioware has been guilty of a lot. This is a story-driven looter shooter with a couple of gameplay loops that elevate its stake, but will ultimately only delay what is sure to become a repetitive experience for me, since the Gun(tm) is the only interaction with the world.

What saves it for me however, are two things; number one are the aforementioned escape bouts to Fort Tarsis, where some pretty hilarious and heartfelt characters are dotting the streets, and where Bioware’s tenure has the most room to breathe and work its magic. This is not a throwaway compliment, there’s decent work being done here. The dialogue system itself is barebones, non-cutscene conversations still look a fair bit stiff, but that twinkle of life that shows itself when you hear a character speak of their experiences is still there. The actual cutscenes look amazing and genuinely fresh, and, like I mentioned above, this isn’t an abstract canvas of lore that ONLY exists to justify the gameplay - there’s something being told here that has many moving pieces in a exciting, new-IP kind of way. Again, hard to deduce from the demo slice, but obvious in retrospect.

The second thing that I personally will look to as a saving grace is that left damn analog stick.

Because dudes. This game isn’t perfect, but it is insanely good at its selling point that was advertised years ago. The lush alien vista of Bastion is a bustling garden of terrain oddities and exotic creatures, with truly groundbreaking verticality hammered into it - the map is honestly more like a cube rather than a flat plane. And your javelin has the simplest tool to experience it the best possible way. It can fly. 

This is always such a weird thing to say to people asking about my big expectations for the game, especially since I’ve basically been in bed with it since its very announcement for reasons they can’t comprehend. I don’t blame any of them of course, but it really is that simple for me - the fantasy of flight in a science fantasy universe created by Bioware is that tiny indulgent thing I always wanted, ever since playing that terrible Dark Void videogame and wishing a better studio had made it. It works INCREDIBLY well, has a balancing wink to it, and elevates the core loop a fair bit. No pun intended. Even the different javelins handle in their own unique ways. It’s just great.

Of course, there’s now a possibility for a BonerLord420 to interrupt my Quality Bioware Experience by throwing a flare in my face before leading an endless army of mobs into it, which is something I hate, have hated, and will hate for the foreseeable future. But the genuine moments of cooperation I did have felt earnest, no one was being a hopeless grief, competitive shit was kept to a minimum (enemy kills don’t drop XP directly), and my socially inept heart opened up just a tiny crack to the possibility that this might be some strange kind of fun.

Bioware DID bring me out of my shell with their whimsy multiplayer modes for the last Mass Effect games, so I feel a bit safer in their hands than I normally would with a game like this. Amazingly, I’m looking forward to exploring Bastion and finding out what this Anthem of Creation business is all about. Cautious, but on board. I definitely love the grabbits with a fierce passion, as well.

[fallforcs]

“You’re Killing Me, Swan”

Art by: @sailingcaptainswan

Shout out to the artist: Wow! Thank you so, so much for the adorable banner art! It is better than I imagined, and it really covers all the bases (pun not intended). I was so looking forward to seeing your creation, and I was not disappointed. Honestly, it’s one of the cutest things. Thank you so much!!

Author: @the-girl-in-the-band-tshirt

Summary: Emma never knew her life could change in the span of a single summer, but that attitude changes as she’s introduced to Killian Jones and, through him, discovers what it’s like to be a kid. With him by her side, Emma takes on her demons, meets friends and enemies, and falls in love with the National Pastime…and maybe someone else in the process. A Sandlot AU

Rating and reason for the rating: G. (Everybody can read - no swearing, no explicit scenes, no trigger warnings)

Trigger warnings: None

Part 1 Part 2

PART 3/3

The team didn’t have a game today. Even the sandlot crew couldn’t play baseball everyday. So with no game tying up the day, Killian invited Emma over for the whole day. She got up early so she could walk over and maximize the amount of fun they could have before she had to go home for the night. After throwing on a tank top and an oversized plaid shirt and jean shorts she can’t really wear for playing ball, she ran downstairs to walk to Killian’s. Ingrid and Arthur had already left for work, and they knew Emma would be headed to the Jones’ for the day. She grabbed the house key from the end table near the front door and practically bounced out the door, only to run into someone on the porch. She apologized as she bent down to pick up the key, only to find the other person had beat her to it.

“Thanks,” she took it, her gaze finally landing on the other form. “Killian? I was just leaving to go to your house.”

He scratched the back of his right ear. “I thought I’d walk you.”

“How long have you been here?” She turned to lock the front door before pocketing her key.

“Not long. Few minutes maybe.”

“We never agreed on a time.”

“I would’ve sat here until you were ready.”

“Really?” She gestured in front of them as a cue to start walking as they talked.

He shrugged. “It’s a nice morning.”

The two walked in silence for a few feet before Emma spoke up, looking at Killian as she did. “You know, this might be the first time I’ve ever seen you without a baseball cap on.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Ah, well, no game.”

“No jersey either.” He was wearing a teal t-shirt and jeans. It was a change from his usual baseball jerseys and black athletic shorts, but not an unwelcome sight.

“They’re in the laundry.” Emma chuckled. Killian smiled. “How long can you stay?”

“Ingrid said to be home by 10:30 since it’s still summer and I don’t have to be up for school or anything.”

“We can work with that.”

“What are we going to do today?”

“Whatever we want.”

“Great!” Emma linked her arm with Killian’s as they walked the rest of the way to his house sharing jokes and laughter.

—–

“So, Swan, where would you like to start?”

“Um, could we use your swing set? I’ve never had a swing set before.”

“As you wish.” He led her to the backyard, and Emma sat on one of the swings. Killian sat on the swing to her left. Emma found it so easy to just talk to Killian about absolutely nothing as they swung side-by-side. And after they decided they’d had enough swinging, they played pirates with the monkey bars and the little shelter above the slide. Even Liam came out to play with them a little. Emma and Killian hid out near the slide while Liam approached their “ship” from above the monkey bars, and they took turns dueling with foam swords Liam found in the basement while making sure Liam didn’t fall between the bars. They didn’t care how stupid they looked or sounded, they were just so happy to be playing.

By the time Liam had to go to work, it was only a couple hours before lunch time. Killian brought Emma up to his room where he shared his pillowcase secret stash of Apollo bars with Emma. He stocked up after he found out they were her favorite. They sat on his bed eating their respective chocolate bars.

“Your room is so cool.” Her eyes studied the baseball wallpaper and his huge baseball card collection on his dresser. Even his lamp was baseball-themed. His bed sheets, however, were pirate-themed with little skulls all over them.

“My mum let me pick out everything.” He glanced around his own room, smiling.

“I hope I get to decorate my room like this one day.”

“You will, Swan.” She met his gaze. “Especially with Ingrid and Arthur. I think they’ll be it for you.”

“I have some pictures up on my wall, but nothing like this.”

“How do you want your room to look?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe something with books or art supplies. Maybe Ingrid would let me paint my own room.”

“I think she would.”

“And Starry Night sheets. That would be cool.”

They sat in comfortable silence as the chocolate bars disappeared. Killian threw their wrappers away and grabbed something from his bookshelf.

“Here,” he handed her two books.

“What’s this?”

“These are my favorite books. I think you’ll like them.”

She read the titles: Peter Pan and The Princess Bride. She hadn’t read either before.

“Thanks, Killian. I’m excited to read these.”

“I want to know what you think.” Emma nodded in acknowledgement. She was always excited at the idea of new books. “So what do you want to do now?”

“Does Liam still have the Nintendo hooked up in his room?”

“Aye.”

“MarioKart?” She smirked.

“You’re on, Swan.”

—–

Over microwaved chicken nuggets and fries, Emma decided to tell Killian about her unwanted visitor the other day.

“Killian?”

“Yeah,” he got out with a mouthful of fries.

“Neal came over the other day.”

Killian froze.

Emma shook her head. “He asked me to join his team.” She sipped her lemonade as she waited for Killian to react. He just blinked.

“I said, no, obviously.”

“You did?”

“Does that surprise you?”

Killian put down the chicken nugget in his hand. “Well, no. But he gave you the chance to play on a real field.”

“I like the sandlot.”

“His team can make you better.”

“You make me better.” Killian blinked rapidly again. “I wouldn’t even be playing if it weren’t for you.”

“You’re good, Swan. You just needed a push.”

“You guys are my friends. I don’t abandon my friends.”

“I - thank you, Swan.”

“Neal and his friends aren’t the kind of friends I want.”

“Don’t tell Liam I said this, but Neal’s a bloody wanker.” They both laughed. “I can’t believe he tried to steal you.”

“He’s just bitter I stole home when he could never.” Killian bit his lip to keep from laughing too hard.

“Seriously, Swan, you could have said, yes, if you wanted.”

“I know, but I didn’t want to. I’m happy where I am.”

“Good.”

—–

Emma and Killian continued playing until Killian’s mom and Liam came home from their respective jobs. Together, the four of them helped make potato chip-crusted chicken, asparagus, and mac and cheese.

“Miss Alice, this is so good,” Emma complimented the dinner she was trying very hard not to just inhale like a vacuum.

“We all made it together, love. It wouldn’t be as delicious if you didn’t help.” Emma smiled at the red-headed mother of her best friend. “And,” Alice leaned in closer to Emma, “you are more than welcome to come over for dinner any time you’d like.”

“Thank you,” Emma said, really trying to make sure how much that meant came through her voice.

“Any friend of Killian’s and Liam’s is alright in my book, especially if there’s another woman to balance out all this testosterone in this neighborhood.”

Liam and Killian looked at each other. Emma laughed.

“Do you cook together every night?” Emma looked between the three Joneses.

“Sometimes, but mostly on special occasions.” Liam looked between Killian and Emma as he took a large bite of mac and cheese to hide his smirk. Alice saw through that and elbowed her son lightly, eliciting a snort from Liam.

If Killian knew what was going on, he pretended not to. “My mum is a fantastic cook.”

“Yeah. She is.”

“Thank you, you two. Emma, if you can stay a little longer, I can make Killian’s favorite fudge brownies for dessert.”

“I just have to be home before 10:30, Miss Alice.”

“Perfect. When you and Killian are done eating, you can go hang out more while I make the brownies.” Emma and Killian nodded their agreement.

“Thanks so much.”

“Any time, Emma. I’m glad to have you here.”

“Well,” Liam starts, “I’m finished my dinner.”

“Great,” his mom smiles, “you can do dishes so Emma and Killian can enjoy themselves.” Killian tried to hide his laughter as Liam frowned. Emma took another bite of chicken as she took in the family in front of her.

Neither kid would admit it, but both Killian and Emma rushed to finish eating so they could have more time to hang out together. When they finished, Emma offered to do her own dishes even though she knew Killian’s mom would never let her. When, as predicted, Alice said “absolutely not” to her guest, Killian grabbed Emma’s hand and brought her to his backyard.

“What are we doing out here?” They were still holding hands.

“It’s a clear night. It’s dark. We should get lots of fireflies.”

“Fireflies?”

“Have you ever caught fireflies before?” He asked her, tightening his hand on hers.

“No.”

“You’re killing me, Swan. Okay, I’ll teach you.” He glanced around his yard until he found a group of fireflies under a tree. He led her over there before dropping her hand.

“They’re so pretty.” Emma took in the sight before her, dark blue sky, bordering on black, with balls of yellowish-silver lights flickering and flying all around the space in front of her.

Killian leaned down to the base of the tree and grabbed a jar. “Can you hold this while I show you what to do?”

“Sure.” She took the jar and he adjusted her hands so the opening was facing him.

“Okay, Swan. You have to come up to one gently with one hand,” he said quietly as he demonstrated. “Then, when you’re close, bring your other hand to the other side of the firefly quickly so it doesn’t get away. But don’t clap your hands or you’ll squish it. Cup your hands together.” He brought his closed hands closer to her so she could see the light peeking from between his fingers. “And then,” he stopped talking as he guided the bug into the jar Emma held, covering the top with his hand. He held the jar up to show Emma.

“Wow.”

“Can you grab the lid?” She knelt down to where he got the jar and picked up a lid with lots of holes poked through it. Killian put the lid on the jar carefully. “When we catch more, the jar is going to be full of them. And then when we’re done, we let them go.”

“Can I try catching one?”

“Of course!”

Killian held the jar as Emma came up to a firefly with one hand, and brought her other hand down quickly. She caught one on the first try, but she immediately let it go as the light crawling freaked her out. She was happy it was dark so Killian couldn’t see her blush.

“It takes a couple tries.”

“Yeah,” she barely got out.

“Try again. You can also come at one with both hands if you’re gentle. Nudge it into your hands.” She nodded as she took a breath. She knew to expect the crawling this time, but she missed her first firefly as she clasped her hands too slowly. However, Emma was a fast learner, and it only took her one more try to get one and keep it between her cupped hands. “Well done, Swan!”

“That was so cool!”

Killian approached her with his hand covering the top of the jar. “Put it in here.” They worked together to get the firefly in the jar without either of the two escaping, and Killian was fast to get the lid on. “Look at that, Swan. We have two now.”

“This is amazing.” She was mesmerized by the flying lights.

“The closest thing to magic.” Emma chewed on her bottom lip as she looked back to the group of fireflies.

“Your turn.”

“Go ahead and get another one. I can wait.” Emma nodded and moved closer to the bugs. Between the two of them, they caught 14 fireflies before the small jar became crowded. They spent about 10 minutes watching them move around the jar, lights going on and off throughout the small glass container, before Alice called them in for brownies.

“We should let them go before we go in.” Killian nodded in agreement.

“Would you like to do the honors?” He held out the jar to her.

“Yeah! Thanks!” She took it and positioned the opening toward where they caught the bugs. Making eye contact with Killian once more, he nodded to cue her to open it. She carefully worked the lid open before watching the fireflies pour out to fly free once more. Emma thought they looked like little stars in the dark night. They were little stars they could catch and hold. She put the jar back at the base of the tree and walked with Killian to the back door. “Thanks, Killian. That was…”

“Magical,” he finished for her.

“Yeah. Magical.”

—–

The group only played one night game a year, and it was on the Fourth of July.

They could only play this night because the sandlot had no lights. But on the Fourth of July, the field was lit up as the entire town of Storybrooke lit fireworks to celebrate.

They played their best then because they all felt like the big leaguers under the lights of some great stadium. Emma was willing to bet that Killian felt like that all the time. They all knew he was gonna go on to bigger and better games because every time they stopped to watch the sky on those nights like regular kids, he was there to call them back.

However, no kid could really resist the draw of fire in the sky. Emma sat on the ground and rested her head on her knees as she stared up into the sky absolutely mesmerized. She smiled as she took in the bright red bursts, followed by the golden weeping willow pattern. It was easy to lose track of time as she gazed up into the dark sky, which for this night was a perfect canvas for the colorful explosions of fire.

When Killian could no longer keep his team from being distracted by the blinding lights in reds, blues, whites, and greens, he gave into the magic himself. But this Fourth of July game was special. When his team turned their attention to the sky rather than the game, he ran over and grabbed Emma’s hand, which she responded to with a barely noticeable gasp in surprise.

“Come along, Swan,” he whispered into her ear as he tugged on her hand.

“But everyone else is here. Shouldn’t we stay?” In reality, she just wanted to watch the fireworks with her friends. She’d never seen a fireworks show quite like this.

“You’re killing me, Swan! Just trust me.”

Looking back at her teammates all ooh-ing and ahh-ing over the fireworks, she turned back to the kid rubbing unconscious circles onto the back of her hand and she said a quiet “okay.” He grinned. She smiled in return and followed him as he ran out of the sandlot and to his own backyard.

“Follow me.” He let go of her hand as he started climbing the biggest tree in his yard. Emma was right behind him. He crawled into a treehouse. Emma paused outside. “What’s wrong?” Killian poked his head out the hatch that served as both entrance and exit into the small dwelling.

“It says ‘no girls allowed,’” Emma pointed to a sign just above where she would climb up into the treehouse. Even in the dark, she could sense the tips of Killian’s ears turning pink in embarrassment.

“I think I can make an exception.” He extended his hand for her. She took it and climbed into the structure. Killian scratched behind his ear as Emma looked around. “I haven’t been up here in years. Apologies for the sign.”

“It’s fine, Killian. I get it.” She pretended not to feel the sigh of relief that he let out against the back of her neck. “But it doesn’t feel particularly sturdy.” Emma shifted slightly and felt the whole structure shake a tad.

“Maybe, but I promise the view is worth the risk.” He crawled carefully to a small and crooked window cut out of the paper-thin wall. “I spent my first Fourth of July up here. The view of the fireworks is the best.”

Emma crawled over and peeked out the tiny window next to Killian. “Wow.”

Even without looking, she knew he switched to watching her instead of the fireworks.  

“I didn’t even notice this when I came over.”

“It’s pretty high up. And the leaves tend to hide it. No one would see it unless they were looking for it.”

“Yeah.”

“I meant to bring you up here when you came over, but I thought I’d wait for the fireworks. It’s worth it.” Neither of them said anything for a while as they watched the fireworks. “You know, the rest of the team doesn’t even know this treehouse exists.”

Emma turned to look at him. They didn’t have much room since the window was so small. They were both overly aware of their movements and those of the other person. “Really?”

“Liam and I built this together when we got here. That’s why it’s not-so-sturdy. But he never really came up here. It was mine. I came up here to be alone and think.”

“It’s nice for that.”

“It is. And I want you to share it, too. You’re welcome any time. If you ever need some time to yourself, just know it’s here. You don’t even have to ask.”

“Thank you, Killian.” She hoped that thank you said much more than just the simple words themselves; she really hoped her true appreciation for the gesture came across. Emma was happy with Ingrid and Arthur, but it could still be overwhelming sometimes. She wasn’t used to the whole family thing, and it could be a little suffocating never really being on her own anymore. And when school starts, she could picture herself coming up into that shaky treehouse to read or do homework. Emma looked at her friend to find he’d turned his attention back to the fireworks. She followed his lead, jumping in surprise slightly when he spoke again.

“And I’ll get rid of the sign.” They both laughed and watched the fireworks together. Emma felt entirely content sitting there with Killian. She was comfortable with his company. Something about the fireworks made her time with Killian in that treehouse even more special that night.

And if Killian intertwined his fingers with Emma’s, well, he could say he was caught up in the magic.

—–

“Okay, guys, last game of the summer. Make it a good one.” Killian glanced around the team huddled in a circle around him. The expressions on all their faces were somber, though they all seemed to be doing their best to hide it. It was the last day of summer before school started up, and while this was far from the last game they’d play even that week, the mood just changes with the start of school.

Killian nodded for the group to break and head to their spots on the field, and they did on his cue, like clockwork. “Swan! Over here. You’re batting first today.”

Emma stopped in her tracks. “What?”

“You improved our team this summer. You should bat first in the last game of summer.”

“Go for it, Swan.” Will gestured toward home plate. “It’s an honor. Jones doesn’t let us bat first in a game like this.”

Not finding the words, Emma nodded and switched places with Killian, who gave her a wink as they passed each other.

Emma took her stance at home plate and adjusted her new baseball cap to block out the sun. She pulled the bat up over her shoulder and braced herself for the pitch. Emma focused on the feel of the bat on her shoulder, the tight grip she had on the bat, and the ball headed her way. She heard the crack of the bat before she registered she hit the ball, and she looked in her hands to find the bat had shattered. The ball fell as the team stared.

“Whoa, Swan,” Will came over to inspect the bat himself.

“We’ve been playing with the same bat all summer. I mean, it was bound to happen,” Emma stared at the frayed wood. She looked up to find Killian running over.

“That is pretty cool, Swan. Major league players do this to their bats.”

“I mean, it’s an old bat.”

“Nolan.” David jerked his head up to look at Killian. “Run home and grab your extra bat.” David nodded, dropping his mitt and literally running off the pitcher’s mound. “Swan, you should keep it.” He put his hand on hers on the bat.

“You sure?”

“Absolutely.” They lingered in each other’s space for a moment, until Killian cleared his throat and let his hand drop back to his side.

“Um, yeah. Okay.” She put the bat behind home plate and off the field.

“Alright, guys,” Killian addressed the rest of the team. “Break until Nolan gets here with the bat.” The boys left their places to talk amongst themselves.

“Killian,” Emma started. He raised his eyebrows. “Do you want to come over after the game? I want to show you something.”

“Sounds great, Swan. I’ll tell Liam.” Killian ran over to his brother, then immediately back to Emma. “It’s a-go.”

“Cool.”

“Any clues to what you’re showing me?” His eyebrows bounced up and down with excitement. She laughed.

“It’s not that exciting for you. More for me.”

“It’ll be exciting for me then.”

Emma shrugged. “We’ll see.”

When they looked up, David was running back to the field, bat in hand, nearly out of breath. He handed the ball to Killian.

“Swan needs to run the bases first. She did get a home run after all.” Killian nudged Emma toward first base, and she flashed him a smile before taking off. It was a great start to the last game of summer, and the momentum lasted the whole game. They were even more carefree than usual, and the kids all played their hearts out.

—–

When the team was sweating, partially sunburned, and could no longer keep the sun from their eyes, they called it a game.

“Well done, mates. Play this weekend?” Killian’s question was met with nods all around. Sneezy sneezed. “Have a great start to school, guys. Wish we could all be in the same classes.”

“Yeah, me too,” Sneezy added.

“Yeah,” Grumpy chimed in gruffly, kicking the dirt at his feet.

“Liam’s in his last year of school, you lucky bastard,” Scarlet slapped Liam on the back.

“Careful what you wish for, Scarlet. Senior year means college applications and SATs and AP classes. I might not be able to play as much as I could this summer.”

“Oi, don’t talk like that, Liam.” Killian’s voice was louder than he probably meant it to be.

“We’ll see, little brother.”

“Younger.” The team laughed.

“See you guys around?” Emma looked at her group of friends, not wanting to separate from them for the school year.

“We all go to the same school,” David told her, “so we’ll probably run into each other.”

“Cool.”

“Alright, guys. Go get ready for school.” Killian was anxious to get some time with Emma before they would be separated by grades at school. The boys all walked - not ran, for the first time all summer - back to their houses. Emma grabbed her shattered bat in one hand and Killian’s hand in the other and took him to her house.

She said a hello to her parents before taking Killian up to her room.

“Ready?”

“For what?”

“Ingrid and Arthur let me decorate my room, just like you said they would!” She was grinning ear-to-ear.

“Swan, that’s incredible! I can’t wait to see it!”

“Okay,” she bit her lip to keep from smiling even harder. “Here it is.” She opened her door to reveal her newly decorated room. She put her bat down behind her door and shifted her focus to her guest.

She got Starry Night sheets, just like she wanted. She had some pictures she drew framed and displayed across the walls, and her desk was covered in art supplies. The balls from the game they went to together were proudly sitting on Emma’s windowsill by her bed. But the coolest part of her room was the one wall in her room with no closet, no door, and no window. On that wall, she drew the sandlot. All her friends were represented. Killian stared in awe, eyes wide.

“Swan, that’s amazing.”

“I drew and painted it myself.”

“You’re so bloody talented. I knew you liked to draw, but this - this is something else.” He couldn’t take his eyes off the mural. Emma glanced over the details. She saw the moment Killian realized where he was in the painting. He was at home plate, hitting a home run, wearing a major league jersey with “Jones” written across the back. She had made his number his birthday. “I can’t believe this.”

“Well, you are the best one on the team. It’s pretty accurate.” She shrugged even though he was still looking at her wall.

“How long did this take you?” He finally pulled his attention off the artwork and looked at the artist.

“I stayed up way past when I should have. I’m pretty sure Ingrid and Arthur knew, but they let me. I wanted to get it done before school.” She sat on her bed and watched Killian get closer to the wall to examine the details.

He laughed. “This is going to be on your wall forever.”

“I hope so.”

He turned around and joined her, elbows knocking together gently. He still could barely peel his eyes off the wall.

“This was the best summer of my life. I want to remember it.”

“You should be an artist.”

“I like keeping my art for fun.” He nodded in understanding.

“You’re…” he let out a breath “…incredible.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“Love it, Swan. I love it so much.”

“Thanks, Killian. This summer never would have been so amazing if not for you.” She looked at him. He was still looking at the wall.

“No, Swan.” He turned to look at her. “You’ve made this the best summer for me. Thank you. I found a best friend.”

“We both had pretty great summers, huh?”

“Aye. The best.”

“The best.”

—–

While the group played together for many summers, that first summer was the most magical. But as they continued their game for years, the kids grew up along the way.

David met a girl his first day of freshman year of high school, and the two of them started dating almost immediately.

Liam was working full-time while looking at colleges, but Emma could sense that he wanted something else.

The young teenagers grew into older teenagers, and the gang all got together for games even when school and jobs tried their hardest to separate them.

And Emma and Killian grew inseparable. As Killian got older, his brown hair darkened into black. He started to grow facial hair, which made him look much more his age as he matured. Emma loved the way his scruff was still brown, lighter than his hair, and she loved the red peeking through. But as she got closer to Killian and developed clear feelings for him, she knew she could never tell him and risk breaking up the group.

For Emma, after having been sent back from foster homes one too many times she thought it was because of her, and Killian, whose father left his ailing wife and two sons to avoid criminal charges, the group was a comfort. This group of boys (and Emma) was solid. There was no danger of abandonment on the sandlot. They were a family. And to risk messing that up over a teenage crush just wasn’t worth it in Emma’s eyes.

——

The group spent a few more summers together, but eventually, they did all move away from the sandlot. Emma and Killian were the last to leave, actually. And this time, every time someone moved away, they didn’t replace them. There was a permanent empty space where that person had been. The group remained a group, even after circumstances forced their separation.

Squints got contacts, so he no longer had to squint all the time. He actually ended up marrying Ariel, the lifeguard from that pool day. Turns out she admired the bravery of a teenager willing to do anything just to kiss her. They had a little girl and a little boy, and they spent every weekend at the pool.

Grumpy and Sneezy became miners, finding a group of five other men to work with even past retirement age. Grumpy ended up with a girl named Astrid, but they never married. It didn’t matter. She countered his grumpiness, and she called him Dreamy. Sneezy eventually found allergy medication that took care of his excessive sneezing, but the nickname followed him into mining.

Robin became a businessman at Mills Inc., eventually marrying his CEO, Regina. The two adopted a kid together, who Robin taught to play baseball, sandlot-style. Regina was dubbed “the Evil Queen” by Grumpy, a name that stuck with the rest of the group - as long as Robin wasn’t around, anyway. Roland Locksley is still young, but Killian claims he’s going to be an MLB pitcher one day.

Will stayed solo for much of his life, enjoying the single life until he became infatuated with a librarian who was tricked into coming to the bar Will frequented. After settling down with Belle, his life calmed down, too.

Liam joined the Navy - a lifelong dream. He rose to rank of captain before taking leave to spend time with a girl he met overseas. Liam, Elsa, and Killian spent every holiday together. Killian was there for every naval medal ceremony, and Liam was extremely highly decorated, so he and Killian saw a lot of each other despite the overseas distance between them.

David married his high school sweetheart. They got married their freshman year of college, and they had a baby not long after graduation. While Mary Margaret stayed home with their son, David went to the police academy and became an officer. He and Liam lorded their power over the group every chance they had. David’s life ended up being fairytale perfect, and his son was Killian’s biggest fan when, as predicted, he became an MLB player. Killian’s first team, the Mets, assumed he had a son because the wallpaper on his phone was little Leo Nolan, proudly wearing an official MLB Jones jersey.

Drafted right out of college to the Mets, Killian Jones moved to New York to play the game he loved. He and Emma had gotten close over the summers playing ball together. In fact, when Emma got into NYU, she and Killian decided to become roommates, seeing as NYU was exactly 24 minutes from Citi Field. Emma spent her days in journalism and sports management classes, and she attended every night game to watch Killian play baseball. It was Killian who encouraged her to take up journalism after reading one of her creative writing assignments - a written account of that first summer she spent with the group. In the big leagues, Killian started in left field, then moved to second base. Emma made signs and everything when she went to the games.

The whole team went to every wedding, and they reunited every few years to play the occasional game of baseball in the sandlot, always picking up right where they left off. These games got larger and larger as all their families grew, and the sandlot became a place for everyone to catch up. Leo and Roland became friends, starting their own sandlot game with Eric and Ariel’s kids. And they would all say the thing they were most proud to pass on to their kids was that sandlot.  

——

Emma was terrified things would change when Killian got traded to the Pittsburgh Pirates. He had been slowing down in the game and striking out more, so the Mets were happy to trade him. And the Pirates were happy to sign him. However, PNC Park was way more than 24 minutes from where Emma and Killian shared an apartment.

But Killian had a contract, so with unshed tears threatening to spill, he hugged Emma goodbye in the airport with promises to “see you soon,” and, “hit lots of home runs for you.”

Unable to hold back her own tears, she responded with a shaky, “you better,” and she kissed his cheek before they both turned away and went in opposite directions.

They had both known what was happening between them over the years, but they both individually decided that emotional involvement would hurt the game, so to speak. And both knew that if they turned back at this moment in the airport, they could never find the strength to walk away again. So they both went on, not looking back at the other.

—–

He came to her graduation. He sat with the Swans, the foster family that decided to adopt her. After hugs from her parents, she turned to her best friend, both of them wearing matching beaming smiles.

“I’m so proud of you, Swan.” They moved in simultaneously to hug each other, the reunion long overdue. Between classes, a job, and her internship, Emma didn’t even know what free time felt like anymore. And Killian was busy as part of the main lineup for the Pirates, as well as with his nice promotion to shortstop, where he excelled. But between home games, away games, training, practice, and workouts, he spent his free time sleeping. He never got used to switching time zones so often.

But all that was forgotten as the two hugged outside NYU’s stadium. Diploma in one hand, Killian took Emma’s other hand as they walked behind the Swans to their car before a celebratory dinner in Emma’s honor. And throughout the night, she just kept thinking how much it felt like old times.

—–

“And up to bat is Pirates number 2, shortstop Killian Jones. He may be new to the Pirates, but he’s already changed the way this entire team plays. No other man could take a near-last place team and turn them into a World Series contender. What a huge loss for the Mets, trading the league’s star player when he was only in a bit of a rut.” Emma smiled to herself, proud of her best friend for everything he’s accomplished. He looked up at the media suites as he exited the dugout and practiced a couple swings. She knew he couldn’t see her, but the fact that he knew she was there made her borderline giddy. She would swear she saw him wink her way as he strutted to the left side of home plate. “And the man himself steps up to the plate,” Emma announced.

The pitch was thrown, and Emma watched Killian jerk backwards to avoid being hit by the 94-mile per hour fastball.

“And the pitch will be taken as a ball.” Emma let out a sigh of relief as she looked down and confirmed he wasn’t hit. Away from the microphone, she muttered, “jeez. You don’t have to try to take him out.” The radio reporter next to Emma laughed at her murmuring, sending her a knowing look. Emma flashed the reporter an appreciative smile as she sat up again to reach the microphone.

“And the second pitch,” she paused as Killian hit the ball impossibly high, but into the stands behind him, “will be taken for a foul. Strike one.” Sitting back as the pitcher and Killian prepare for the next pitch, she whispered to herself, quieter than before as not to be overheard again, “c’mon Killian. You’ve got this.”

When Killian stepped back up to the plate, Emma straightened her posture and got ready to get back to her job.

“The score is 4-3, the tying run is at first, two outs, and the count is 1-1 at the bottom of the 11th. A place in the World Series is at stake. Jones steps up to the plate, and this pitch is again taken as a foul. The count is now 1-2 for Pirates’ star player, shortstop Killian Jones.”  

Killian took another step back and took a few practice swings. Emma held her breath as the next pitch soared straight into the zone, only to be met by Killian’s bat. He followed through on the swing and watched as the ball flew.

“Jones hits the ball. And it’s going, going, still going, gone,” Emma screamed into the microphone. “Goodbye home run!” Emma smiled and laughed along as the entire media suite cheered. As Killian finished rounding the bases, she took her seat again. “And Jones gets both the tying and winning runs home with an impressive home run. That’s the ballgame. The final score is 4-5 Pirates after 11 innings of gameplay.” She paused so the excitement could build. “And the Pirates are going to the World Series!”

The crowd had been cheering consistently since Killian’s home run, but the idea of a World Series run made the people in the stands scream even louder.

“Thanks for joining us at PNC Park tonight. We hope you’ll see you soon. Drive safely everyone.” And with that, Emma’s job was done. She sat back in her swivel chair as Killian signed some baseballs, mini-bats, and hats from some fans in the stands before heading to the locker room to, no doubt, shower. Emma couldn’t go without seeing him, so she checked her phone while fans filed out of the stadium. The radio and tv announcers around her all left before her, and she acknowledged each of their departures as they left.

Hoping she wouldn’t get kicked out for being there so late, she snuck down to the field and wandered over to home plate. Standing next to the plate, she took in the night sky in front of her, the stadium’s blinding lights still on.

“So, Swan, first woman to announce a Major League Baseball game live. I knew you could do it.”

Emma jerked around when she heard him. She couldn’t help the smile that broke out on her face.

“Although, I don’t know why you went to university for journalism all those years when you were perfectly capable of calling a baseball game at 15.” He paused for a moment before adding, “still impressive nonetheless.”

“Well, I’m no shortstop for the Pittsburgh Pirates.” Emma watched Killian’s tongue dart out to wet his lips. Her gaze dropped to her shoes in the dirt as she pretended not to be affected.

Apparently, he had the same goal in mind. Avoiding the topic on both their minds, he said “I know I made you work extra tonight. Sorry about that, by the way.” He adjusted the strap of his gear bag.

“Yeah,” she fiddled with the ends of some of her hair that fell over her shoulder. “You know I don’t get paid extra for extra innings, right?” She teased. He laughed.

“I really am proud of you, Swan. They started you on a really high-stakes game.” He paused. “And they really should pay you extra for those two innings.” They shared timid smiles, making it known to each other that they were both aware of their connection and both unsure whether to acknowledge it.

“I could never have gotten here without you. All those years ago, you took a chance on a teenage girl who didn’t even know how to play catch.”

Killian shrugged, but the meaning behind his words was anything but casual. “I just introduced her to the greatest game in the universe. She did the rest on her own.” Emma could see the pride in his bright blue eyes - pride for her.

“You know, PNC Park is a lot bigger than the sandlot.”

“Aye. That it is.”

“You certainly seem right at home.” Killian shrugged again, the tips of his ears tinged light pink. “Think you’ll stick around on the Pirates another season?”

“I hope so. I quite like it here. And I quite fancy the Pirates’ new announcer.” He was scratching that spot behind his ear, just like he used to do when they were teenagers. It was in this moment - looking at Killian and seeing the same kid from the sandlot - that she made her decision.

Emma smiled and replied, “good,” before reaching up and removing her baseball cap, tossing it behind her. She tangled her fingers in Killian’s hair, still wet from his post-game shower, and pulled his face to hers, though pull may have been an overstatement, as he went right along with it without complaint. The moment their lips touched was magical. It was better than playing baseball with fireworks as a light source. It was better than stealing home. It was better than hitting a grand slam. Emma pulled away first, but she kept her forehead against his. Her eyes were closed as he opened his and brought his fingers up to his lips, which were still tingling.

“That was…” Emma interrupted herself with a short laugh. She opened her eyes and her green ones met his blue ones. She bit her lip as he sighed in contentment and disbelief. Killian brought a hand to her cheek, caressing her face so his thumb landed in the dimple in her chin.

Finally, he spoke. “You’re killing me, Swan.”

[punishandenslavesuckers]

Yasha has lightning in her bones and thunder in her footsteps. She’s called by the storm and there’s a hurricane in her soul. But Mollymauk isn’t tethered to anything so certain and Yasha… she still worries. AKA: Yasha lowkey bothers all the party members to determine if they’ll look out for her odd circus buddy when she’s not around. She’s not sure why but… she just has this bad feeling. (a03)

The first time Yasha worries about him, she’s known Mollymauk exactly one week. She finds him somewhat aggravating for many, many reasons. He’s loud, obnoxious, and overly familiar, a double-talker, a wise-guy. He’s an eyesore of color and motion. He’s pretty in a way that’s just north of masculine and a little eerie on a lavender-skinned tiefling. He’s proud of it too. All that would be fine, except he won’t stop grinning at her. This is made particularly unnerving by the constitution of his eyes which are very nearly pupiless and dark red, like the viscous gel is infused with blood, faintly lit by a dark, internal shine. She can never tell if he’s side-eyeing her.

The worst part though: He likes her.

He likes her despite knowing. And, oh yes, he knows what Yasha is.

He recognizes her kind. She sees it in his face the moment he lays eyes on her and the dread that spikes through her becomes confusion when he just grins that needle-point smile and says nothing to Gustav. After that, he won’t stop following her around. He materializes cross-legged on top of wagons she’s unloading, his tail twitching like gleeful cat. He appears suddenly behind her in line of chow. He brings her tea on her breaks. He asks her how she’s fitting in. If there’s anything he can help with. What’s her favorite color? Does she want help braiding her hair? Does she want company? Does she know how to play cards? Would she like to dance? Drink? Check out this weird flower he found.

He’s awful.

And Yasha is horrified to admit she isn’t sure what she’d do without his relentless pestering.

Because, in fact, being well-liked by Mollymauk has a warming effect on the rest of the circus crew who are an insular and suspicious lot, wary of newcomers and tolerating her solely on the grounds of her physicality and aesthetic: A pale giantess among them. A flavor of freak that may suit them and she finds herself, dimly, wanting their acceptance. Why? She’s not sure. Because the road’s been long these last months. Because if she cannot get along among this country’s strangest folk, how is she going to get along anywhere?

One day, Bo pulls her of set up duty to help Molly with the promoting.

Molly is their best promotor which doesn’t seem possible, but horns, purple skin, fangs and all, Molly can play to a crowd apparently. Yasha is instructed only to ‘keep him outta trouble’ and nothing more.

“They love you,” Molly says, patting her bicep after Bo gives her yet another lukewarm glare.

“If you say so,” she says.

Molly beams up at her, his incisors glinting and hooks his arm through her elbow in this gallant, ridiculous way and hauls her into the streets of yet another Podunk down. She cannot fathom the level of energy put into being that aggressively friendly but Molly has it and he spends that capital into the suspicious crowds of this quaint farming village. He breaks away from Yasha and leaps up on a bench in the village green. He grandstands to no one at all, a flourish of coat and lashing tail, all sparkle and grin, until people gather just to stare. And once they’re staring he starts.

The crowd is a little hostile, actually. A little boy throws an apple at him but Molly nabs it from the air and takes a massive, fanged bite of it. He heckles and leers. Shrugs slurs and stares. He bullshits through his teeth, hawking fortunes, wonder, and spectacle. They boo him. He boos back. They call him names. He calls them worse, but poetically, lyrically, so impressively there is applause. By the end of fifteen minutes he’s sitting with someone’s dotty little dog in his lap, reading a woman’s fortune while Yasha, baffled, passes out flyers to a few docile locals.

Molly catches her eye as he’s turning a card.

He grins at her and for a moment, just a moment, she stops watching the crowd.

So she doesn’t see it in time. The man standing, previously idle at Molly’s right, twists, rears back and brings a bottle down across the back of Molly’s head. It shatters against the rams curl of his horns, breaking off and dragging across his skull but Molly doesn’t scream. He gasps. His head snaps forward. Blood splatters the cobble stones and Yasha – she’s grabbing the man by the arm, pivoting, and with a single one-arm shot-put hurl she puts that man fifteen feet across the green where he lands like a stone, carving a rut of mud in the grass.

She whirls. “Molly!” She hits one knee beside him, disrupting his card layout. “Are you alright?”

“Ow,” Molly says.

He says ‘ow’ like you say ow when you whack your elbow on a table, not when you get glassed by a racist farmhand. Then he looks up at her. And Yasha just stares because There’s frost in his hair, a diamond layer of ice crusted up the base of his right horn and spiraled up along the bone. Not a trace of blood on his skin, but the ice is… it’s in the cuts along his temple spidering out from the gashes. He touches gingerly at the strange layer of ice.

“Shit. That’ll happen. Welp.” He grins at her again, frost glittering in his eyelashes and spiraled along the crest of his cheekbone. “Guess this place is burned. Shall we go?”

Yasha probably overreacts, looking back on it.

She grabs Molly. Full seizes him like a sack of potatoes in her arms, hefting him up before he can do a damn thing to stop her and she literally runs sprinting out of that village. He seems surprised of course. It’s not exactly a dignified thing, her hucking him over her shoulder and racing across the town. He yells at her the whole way that he’s fine and he can walk, thanks, but eventually gives up and lets her run him all the way back the circus, looking deeply amused and annoyed the entire time.

“You know what this means,” Molly says, later, bringing her a plate from the chow line.

She stares.

He puts a mug of chamomile tea by her hand.  “You get to be my body guard all the time now.”

She stares longer. Then, when Molly just goes about eating his meal and not elaborating, she says, “I did a terrible job, Molly. I let them hurt you.”

He shrugs and scoots her plate closer to her. “I was being cocky. Should have read that crowd better. And, besides,” he grins at her, “you’ll never let it happen again, right?”

She just keeps staring.

“You should eat that,” he says, nodding to the plate. “You’ve had a rough day.”

Yasha worries then, and only then, about Mollymauk Tealeaf.

Jester is very carefully, lovingly, doodling an obscenely large dick onto one of Fjord’s shoulder satchels when she senses she’s not alone. She turns around. There are boobs at eye level with her.

“Hmm,” she says, speculatively, then looks up. “Hello, Yasha! How are you this evening?”

Yasha blinks down at her from her considerable vantage, her pale eyes momentarily puzzled. Then she leans slightly to the left to inspect Jester’s work. Jester detects that her right brow arches infinitesimally upward, then she comes back to center and folds her arms over her chest. When she does his, her biceps settle, straining slightly against leather strap that wraps her arm. Jester admires that for happy moment, then beams back up at Yasha.

“You seem like you have a question?”

“Yes. If you’re done…?” She glances at the dick vandalism. “Done doing… that?”

“Yes. I’m all done,” Jester insists, through her image is not quite achieving the throbbing veiny-ness that she’s originally envisioned. But Yasha seems like she’s anxious to ask whatever she’s thinking about, so Jester forgoes her artistic ambitions. “What do you want to talk about? Is it good? Is it gossip?”

“No, it’s about…something else,” she says slowly.

“Oh, boo. Okay.”

Jester abandons the pile of personal belongings by the wagon and leads Yasha a small distance to the fireside which is presently unoccupied – the others having mostly dispersed to set up camp for the night. She can hear Molly arguing with Fjord about the appropriate way to pitch a tent, then laughing at his pun while Fjord makes simultaneous noises of rage and admiration.

Yasha takes a seat and Jester sits across from her.

She looks very serious in the fire-light, the glow licking up her pale cheek and glittering in her impassive eyes.

“Do you think this group will last together?” Yasha asks.

Jester thinks. “Well, I like everyone in our group, even though a few of them are a little grumpy or weird. But everyone is a little grumpy or weird sometimes and I think that’s probably fine and also not a sign that we cannot, like, work together for the greater good.” A beat. “And money.” Another beat. “And also we are all perhaps wanted for mail fraud and man slaughter and it is best to stick together. I don’t know. Maybe.”

Yasha nods, mulling over her words.

“Fjord said something back in Zadash when we were all under your truth spell. I want to talk about that.”

“Oh! Okay. I am happy, by the way, that you think people in our group are very attractive.”

She beams.

Yasha pauses and clears her throat a little.

“Uh, yes, well… Fjord said to Molly, that there was a difference between something being a danger to Molly and something being a danger to the group. Do you agree with Fjord?”

It’s Jester’s turn to blink.

“Well, teeeeechnically, Fjord is right. If a big rock fell on Molly and he was not, like, standing next to us then that would just be a danger to him, but that is not what you are asking of course. Let me think.” She ponders. “I think that I disagree, but also I think the Fjord was also right to make that distinction. We have not all known each other very long, though, we have known each other long enough to maybe be wanted for manslaughter so things are moving very fast I suppose –”

“Jester,” Yasha interrupts, gently, but maybe a little annoyed.

Jester twines a bit of her hair around her fingers, her tail lashing anxiously behind her, before giving up and huffing a great big sigh.

“Fiiine. I don’t know, okay? I think if someone bad came after Molly I would punch them in the face and kick them into the sunset, but I would also be very upset that Molly’s problems are being put on us. That’s what I think.” She hesitates. “But… also… I like Mollymauk and I think that I would watch his back just because…” She shrugs. “It’s nice having someone like me in the group.”

Yasha nods again. “You remind me a little of Molly sometimes.”

“Okay, but in a pretty sparkly fun way? Or a sneaky, maybe he is lying and we are not sure because he is so good at it way?”

“The sparkle… the sparkle fun way?” Yasha says uncertainly.

Jester claps. “Yes. I think so too.” She grabs Yasha by the hand. “Let’s pick some flowers. I want to show you how to make a flower crown so you can wear it. It will be so cute. C’mon!”

Yasha, surprised, follows her to the meadow and any other questions she definitely had are forgotten.

A shadow falls over his book and Caleb blinks a moment before looking up. He’s seated cross-legged by the wheel of their wagon, reading by the late-day sun. The group decided to call it early today and just enjoy some time relaxing. Yasha is standing behind him, staring, and blocking the light. She is wearing an elaborate flower-crowd of braided daisies and buttercups and while Caleb is processing that she seems to resolve herself, folding her arms in a business-like manner. He carefully closes his book and knits his fingers over the cover.

“Hello, Yasha. How can I help you?”

“I have a question,” she says. Then, hearing herself aloud, seems to think that was too blunt and adds, “If you don’t mind.”

“It’s quite alright. What’s bothering you?”

Yasha takes a seat in front of him, legs folded, back straight. She folds her arms again and looks seriously at him which is a mildly intimidating thing because Yasha is a towering, tangle of pale and dark and muscle, the tensile strength of her coiled at rest before him. Caleb doesn’t profess to understand her – not her likelihood to disappear, her willingness to fight for them, her rapport with Mollymauk, any of it. She stands sentinel and unknowable, this barbarian woman, her bright eyes smoky with kohl, her face lined by ink and signifying nothing he understands.

“Do you think this group will stay together?” she demands.

Caleb tilts his head.

“Well, it’s still a bit early, but… we have embarked now on a serious business venture together and have, willingly or not, become the keeper of each other’s secrets in many respects. That certainly has binding power, uh, Yasha, but I can’t claim to know what might happen.” He waits to see if she has thoughts about this, but when she just waits for elaboration, he adds, “I do want this group to work. I… I like having people to travel with. It’s safer.”

She nods.

“I also happen to like these people. In case you were wondering.”

“Thank you, Caleb. Can I ask something else?”

Caleb smiles a little, befuddled at her formality. “Of course.”

“Who in this group do you view as the greatest liability?”

“Oh,” Caleb says and frowns down at his book. He looks back at Yasha after a moment. “I don’t think I know. I don’t know everyone well enough to say who might prove a burden. I think that the reason we all work so well together is that each of us brings something to the whole. So, regardless of my personal opinion of anyone, losing any member of this party would be a blow.”

“Yes, but if you had to lose someone.”

“Yasha, why are you asking me this?”

She looks down at her lap, her lovely brow knit. “It would be good to know.”

Caleb taps his fingers against the front of his book. “Are you feeling restless again?”

She lifts her eyes and it’s impossible not to be caught in them, like being taken off guard by a sudden storm front, the pale gray of her stare rushing over him and he around her, he always things he catches the strangest whiff of ionized air, like the smell after a lightning strike. Lightning and floral ethers mixed with leather. That’s how Yasha smells to him and when she looks at him, he thinks, She won’t stay with us. She’s barely here right now.

“Not now,” she says quietly. “But I may in the future.”

“And you want to know if this group will still be here when you return.”

“I would like some notion.”

“I don’t view Mollymauk as a liability.”

Yasha blinks, hard, and that in and of itself gives her away – the mix of surprise and relief there for just a moment before she smooths it away.

“I didn’t ask about Mollymauk.”

“Yes, but he’s your friend, is he not? And its him that stays with us when you have to leave and it’s our group you track when you want to find him again. Is that not the way of it? You do not, after all, know the rest of us very well. We fought together that has certainly brought us all closer. Battle does that, uh, you know, brings people close when maybe life would not otherwise have them tolerate each other.”

Yasha says nothing.

Caleb waits for a while but when it’s clear she won’t answer a direction question about her friend, Caleb switches tack.

“Mollymauk said that he ‘needed’ this to work.”

“Yes.”

“Yasha, he is not the only one. We all, I think, need this work.” When she says nothing, he adds, “I can’t speak for the future, but I myself would not agree with a course of action that required the abandoning of anyone in our number, particularly if they have been acting in good faith. I think… I think Mollymauk acts in good faith, despite the possible entanglement of his past.”

Yasha is quiet for a moment.

“Thank you, Caleb.” A pause.  “Does Nott feel the same?”

“Nott holds her own council,” Caleb says carefully, “but she agrees with me that this party needs to hold together. And while she may not understand Molly’s resistance to remembering… she… she said she wants to help him. And she said it under Jester’s truth spell, so you know she is genuine. I think that says enough.”

He watches Yasha take that in, consider it, then get to her feet and walk away.

“Beauregard, can I –?”

“Oh, sweet fuck!” Beau drops absolutely everything in her hands and spins around to find a very befuddled Yasha staring down at her. She’s got flowers in her hair and her eyes are the color of a cold autumn sky. She’s super pretty and – fucking gods, really? Focus. Beau quickly drops her fists. “Uh… Hi, Yasha, you’re sure quiet for someone who’s like six million feet tall. What… what’s up? Nice flower crown. It matches your… face.”

Yasha’s brow knits faintly in confusion and Beau feels entire tracts of her smaller intestine wither and die of pure regret. Yasha gingerly touches the fluffy floral arrangement that halos her head, as if she’d forgotten about it and a very faint little smile does ghost her lips for a moment. It’s, you know, really great and Beau feels her stomach kind of turn over. Basically, Yasha is beating up Beau’s guts just by standing there. It’s terrifying.

“Oh, uh, thank you,” Yasha says. “Jester did it.”

“You like flowers?”

“Well, sure.”

Beau files that away for later, nodding and folding her arms. “Cool, cool, cool. So… uh, wanna help me get some of this stuff out? Molly said he can put stew together out of it or something?”

Yasha inspects all the food items that Beauregard just dropped all over the grass. She’d been elbow deep in one of the supply crates, specifically, the vegetables and spices. There is also a hunk of beef wrapped in butcher paper, tingling slightly with a chilling enchantment. The crate is fragrant with fresh produce and the smell of rosemary. Beau had sniff-tested a few of the little glass spice bottles, which are unlabeled, so she assumes someone else knows what’s what.

“Oh,” Yasha says, brows lifting. “He’s making Gustav’s trail slop?”

“Well… that doesn’t sound as nice as he made it sound.”

Yasha chuckles. “No, no. It’s really good. You see, whenever the circus did well, Gustav would treat everyone and buy really good food and ingredients to make this meal. It was a circus, lots of people, so a stew is a lot easier to make and hand out in bulk than a lot of other things.” Her smile gets nostalgic. “Molly is doing the same. I guess he thinks we deserve something nice after all we’ve been doing.”

Beau regards the nice wheel of cheese and the small crate of vegetables with new interest.

“So this is like a ‘good job you fuckers’ kind of soup?”

“Sure.”

“He paid a lot of fuckin’ money for it. So that’s pretty cool of him.” She frowns. “I should probably ask him if he wants to split the tab if he’s sharing… hmm…”

“He’ll probably refuse. He’ll know you’d rather keep your money. If Fjord offered, though, he’d take the money since Fjord likes to keep things fair.”

“Yasha, real talk, your friend is really confusing sometimes.”

“I know.” Yasha kneels down and starts gathering onions and corn into her arms. “But I think it’s understandable and he’s less confusing than some people I’ve met.” She stands up with all the ingredients in her arms. “Where… do I…?”

“Oh right. Follow me.”

Beauregard grabs the spice box and the beef and leads Yasha to the fire-side where a small iron pot is waiting. Beau dumps her findings on a blanket she laid out earlier, then turns and takes the more delicate veggies from Yasha’s arms. Yasha dumps the rest in the pile and Beauregard carefully places the tomato on top of the rest. It’s a beautiful pile of food. An extravagant amount of it actually. Like, signs of wealth and happiness, kind of cornucopia of food.

“Man, I’m kind of looking forward to this,” Beau says, beaming. “Think you sold me on it, Yasha.”

“I’m glad.” She pauses. “Beauregard?”

“Yup?”

“Do you like everyone in this group?”

Beau freezes a little. “Uhh, why do you ask?”

“I’m curious.”

“Well, I mean, I like some people more than other people. Like… some of them a lot more than other people, uh, actually.” She clears her throat a little, loudly. “But, yeah, mostly I don’t think everyone in the group is like a monsterous fuckin’ asshole or anything. I mean, okay, for a while there I did think that. But now I don’t. Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“Sure, I mean… Caleb is still a bit sketch and Nott literally keeps stealing things from us sometimes and, sorry, Molly has some weird shit going on and… well Fjord might actually be, like, possessed by water demons or something, but not in an evil way? Maybe.” She pauses. “Okay, how about this, they’re all sketchy assholes but they’re my sketchy assholes. How about that?”

“That seems reasonable.”

“Why? Are you worried someone doesn’t like you? Because I think everyone in the group likes you, Yasha. Like… definitely some more than others, uh, but you’re pretty cool.” She mimes grabbing a sword two handed. “Like… that Victory Pit shit? That was fucking awesome. I think after that you could punch Fjord in the face and he’d still be like, ‘Yeah, Yasha’s cool.’”

Yasha smiles at her. Beau feels her face heat up and really hopes the firelight is hiding it.

“Thank you, Beau.”

“N-no problem.”

“Thought you’n I might have some words.”

Yasha moves with much more stealth than her towering frame might suggest possible, but Fjord still picks up her approach as she circles the camp and makes her way from Jester, to Caleb, then after a while helping Molly finish with the feeding of the horses, make her way around the long side of the camp to find him. He’s finishing with the last of securing the tents, fresh canvas, big ones too. Mollymauk overpaid for the lot, Fjord would guess, but he’s noticed that haggling price isn’t generally something Molly does when he’s got spare coin.

He’s a might curious about that, coming from a carnie grifter and self-professed conman, a spot of generosity seems odd, but then again who among them isn’t that?

“I have a question,” Yasha says, voice soft and even.

“Alright. Shoot.”

“Don’t mean to be blunt but I think in this case I need to be.”

“Okay. I’m warned.”

“You want to protect the people in this group, correct?”

Fjord stops what he’s doing then, giving Yasha his full attention. She’s watching him with those strange blue eyes of hers, halogen clear and nitrogenous cold, like the cold in the stratosphere above old mountains. He folds his arms across his chest and shifts his weight a little, tilting his head.

“Of course I do. Do you… think I don’t?”

She doesn’t respond immediately, just… stares at him. Like she can read something written on his forehead. Makes his skin prickle a little, like there’s static in his hair, like he could shock himself off a bit of metal. She steps toward him and for a single second Fjord wonders if he should step back, wonders if it’s in his head that the air pressure around her seems to shift, like a sharp drop in barometric pressure before a storm front.

Yasha stops, near enough to him that she could touch him.

She holds out a hand, flat, to shake.

Fjord blinks.

“You swear you would protect everyone in this group?” She never breaks eye contact as she says this, holding his eyes like there is nothing, absolutely nothing else in the world. “That being in a group means you protect each other?”

“Well, hold on now,” Fjord says, drawing his head up a little. “We’re skippin’ some levels here. Yasha, why’re you asking me this?” He unfolds his arms, taking a more open stance before he goes on. “Look, no body’s gettin’ left. I know we’re not, you know, the best of people sometimes. There’s been some… larceny and such. But, meanin’ no offense to you, I’m not sure you get to make demands on my loyalty when you’re the one who says you’re like to take off at any moment.”

Yasha lowers her hand, eyes dropping aside then for a moment, lips parting on what might be the start of a response but she never gets that far. She just… sighs and looks back at him, chin raised.

“Yes. I’ve made my situation clear. And you owe me nothing of course. I don’t ask anything on my behalf.”

“Whoa, Hey. That’s not what I meant.”

“What do you mean then?”

He sighs.

“I don’t mean to say you’re not part of group or anything. I’m just saying it’s a little odd you’re so invested when you’re likely to wander. That’s all.” He huffs a little. “Why’re you so nervous about this?”

“Because I may be fine on my own, but…” A pause. Her eyes flicker up and to the right, then back to him. “But not everyone else is. Some people were not designed to be on their own and I think we have a few people like that in this group.”

“Well, I agree, and I’ll do my piece to keep them in company, but at the end of the day you can’t be responsible for other people, Yasha.” He tilts his head. “I’m gettin’ a sense you’re feeling obligated to someone or something and maybe you should consider that’s not your bag to hold, if you follow.”

She says nothing for a while then, “It a bag I want to hold, how about that?”

“Well, that’s fine.” Fjord glances toward the group where Jester is carefully braiding a flower crown around Nott’s head while Molly look on, giving commentary. He looks back to Yasha and shrugs. “I got a few bags like that.”

“Will you hold this group together, Fjord?”

“Appreciate the vote of confidence, but what makes you think I can hold anything together?”

“I just know you can.” She says it so matter-of-factly, like gravity, like momentum and kinetic force. She looks at him and her eyes are pale and her tone objective. “You’re the one if anyone will.”

Fjord heaves a sigh, pressing the knuckle of his index finger briefly against his brow. “Look, I intend to do my damnedest. Not telling anybody what to do, but anyone that wants to stick with us, does right by us… yeah, we’re protecting each other. Kinda thought that was understood at this point.”

“You’ll swear it?” Yasha demands, sticking her hand out again.

He reaches for her hand.

She yanks it back suddenly, his fingers brushing hers and there’s a spark of static electricity off her so sharp his skin stings, but she doesn’t notice.

“Don’t swear,” she whispers, “unless you mean it.”

A beat.

“I don’t swear anything I don’t mean, Yasha. I already had it well in my head there aint anyone in our crew I wouldn’t lay down my life for if the occasion really called for it.” He clears his throat. “Not, you know, that I’m lining up to do that real speedy or nothin’ but… yeah. That’s the intent.” He looks at her. “I’m curious what it is that keeps calling you away, particularly since it’s clear you got reasons to stick with us.”

“I can’t tell you that. Not… not yet anyway.”

“And doing… whatever it is you do. That’s more important than sticking with Mollymauk?”

She reacts to that. Her eyes go wide.

“No! Not more important,” she blurts, rather before she can stop herself. She freezes, a deer caught in a lightning strike for a moment… then she sighs. “It’s not about importance,” she goes on reluctantly, like he tricked it out of her. “It’s about… about what I need to do. It’s not really a choice for me, you understand. I can’t stay and that, well, um, that leaves my dear friend with all of you.”

“And you’re frettin’ that we’ll lose our fuckin’ shit and he’ll be on his own somewhere? Is that right?”

“Yes, I suppose.”

“For Molly’s sake? Just Molly?”

She says nothing for a moment.

But after that moment she says, reluctantly, “The circus was always there for us both, but Molly has only ever known a life among friends. Gustav and the others they…” She sighs. “They loved him. They protected him I think from many things. He believes in that kind of loyalty. I think he believes it in a way… perhaps, that not everyone does. Maybe not even everyone here in this group.” She looks uncomfortable. “haven’t known you very long you see. So it’s hard to tell.”

Fjord nods.

“Okay, I get you. Look, I won’t speak for the group but from what I gather so far, everyone agrees the point of sticking together is to look out for one another. Alright? And, personally, I can at least promise you this: I won’t leave anyone behind. I won’t leave Molly behind unless he tells me to.” He offers her a hand. “And I swear it.”

She smiles finally and they shake on it.

“You’re being quite the social butterfly today,” says Mollymauk as she comes over to greet him. He’s patting one of the horses, feeding it a sugar cube. He’s probably fed them all sugar cubes so they’ll like him better than everyone else. He holds still, grinning as she loops companionable arms around his shoulders from behind and drops her chin on the top of his head, between his horns. He chuckles. “Well, you’re cuddly. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Just chatting. Did you see my flower crown?”

“Very fetching, my dear.”

“I like these people, Molly.”

“Me too! Aren’t they fun?”

“Yes.” She pauses. “I do still miss the circus though, sometimes.”

“Agreed, but it squint at Beau just right, she kind of looks like an acrobat. We can make due.” He shrugs. “And I’m having a good time with them actually, despite everything.”

“They’re good group for you.”

“For us, Yasha,” he says, admonishing. “You’re one of us even if you’re wandering.” He pauses when she squeezes his shoulders a little harder, collaring an arm around his chest and burying part of her face against his hair. His heartbeat drums against her palm. She inhales the faint scent of lavender and it centers her, grounds hers to the earth and she hears Molly laugh a little. “Are you alright?”

“I’m feeling… restless, Molly.”

“Oh.” He thinks on that, then pats her arm where it’s looped over his collarbone. “Well, like I said, that’s alright. I’ll be thinking of you as you go and anticipating you’re return. The largest, most dangerous house cat in the world.” He leans his weight back on her chest, like she’s a wall to brace against. “When do you think? Do you know?”

“I never know for sure,” she murmurs. “I just feel it. Like… like you feel a storm coming in your bones or aching in an old wound, you know? I can feel it like that, through my whole body.”

“Kinky.”

She flexes her arm around his neck, threatening a headlock. He laughs.

“It’s okay. Everyone understands.”

She relaxes her arm and drops her chin between his horns again. “You’ll be careful while I’m gone, won’t you?”

The palm of his right hand is hooked in the crook of her elbow, his weight still leaning on her.

“Aren’t I always?” he asks, smiling.

“No. You are a reckless idiot who would die in a ditch if left unattended for too long.”

He snickers.

“Don’t get in trouble without me, Mollymauk Tealeaf.”

He turns his head a little, ducking his chin a little to keep his horns for knocking into her chin. He grins at her over his shoulder.

“Are you worried about me?”

“Yes,” she says.

She said that too plainly. Molly’s expression shifts, becomes puzzled.

“Whatever for?”

Because, Yasha thinks, blank-faced, you overpay for tents and give money to highway robbers. Because you bring me tea and buy sugar cubes for cart horses. Because Lucien. Because you’re forward and familiar and not everyone likes that. Because you look like you do. You took drugs in a graveyard. You smirk like that. Because you don’t know better. A circus taught you what family looks like and your magic demands you bleed for it. Because I can’t be there looking for the bottle in the crowd that’s winding its way towards you and I feel it like thunder after the flash that it’s coming.

But what she says is, “Because you’re my very good friend, Mollymauk.”  

“Awwww,” he says, drawing the vowel out lazily. “You’re making me blush.”

“Nothing makes you blush.”

Molly laughs again, a bright flashing sound catching in his throat. He turns in her arms so he can face her and he searches her face in that curious way he does sometimes and Yasha thinks, quietly and a little distantly, that she has no concept of home… but something very close to it exists in that familiar grin. So she taps him on the nose with one finger and mouths ‘boop’. He grins. He smiles so hard his eyes close with the beaming force of it, his tail lashing like a cat’s behind him. He settles a bit and pokes her in the collarbone.

“This is a really good group, you know. Honestly. No one minds that you have to come and go. They understand. I know they do.” He reaches up and pats her cheek. “They love you.”

She’s not sure why that makes her hug him, but it does.

“Oof! Uh, hello.” Molly chuckles, winded. “What’s all this about? Hey. It’s okay.” He pats her on the back, pressing his palms into her shoulder blades then gently keeps patting her with one hand when she doesn’t relinquish her hold. “Yasha? What’re we doing here? You’re starting to worry me, love.”

“Could we have tea or something?” She pulls away, her hands on his shoulders. “I feel like I could use some of… what is it? Camo… something?”

“Chamomile?” he says, tilting his head and arching a dark purple brow. “Well obviously, I’d be delighted, but I feel like you need like… a shot of something, not a cup of tea. But pick your poison, I’ll play along – Oh.” He blinks, holding still when she plants a fond but purposeful kiss against his forehead. “What was that for?”

“Tea?” she insists.

He rolls his eyes. “Okay, okay. Yeesh. And they say I’m the oddball.”

She follows Molly to the wagon where he roots in his pack for some tea. He does make that soup for everyone and enough tea for the whole group and before the sun goes down, everyone is happy, chatting amiably around the fire and Yasha thinks, maybe, whatever she’s feeling is far away. That this contentment can stretch into the horizon for a while. That things will be okay. Surely, for at least a little while longer. 

[queen-of-hearts92]

Revue Starlight 5: Not That Girl.

Don’t wish, don’t start. Wishing only wounds the heart...

For the previous episode go here!

To go to the start of these posts, go to the Prelude!

Hey y’all! We’re back at it again with the duels and this, this was fun but also sweet and oh Mahiru! Poor baby. ;; Granted this duel ended up being much less dark than I thought it would be and that’s ok! Let’s get to discussing then!

-Note: The post title and the sad caption are lyrics from the song “I’m Not That Girl” from the musical Wicked! Wicked is my favorite musical btw....I’ve seen it 12 times lol.

-Missed note from episode four: The flashback of episode four with baby Karen and Hikari is a little different than episode one’s with baby Karen and Hikari. The two have swapped places! Interesting.

-Reminder: Claudine’s nickname is Kuro, I will be using it on and off so remember when I say Kuro I’m referring to her! Also I found out why that’s her nickname! Claudine’s name in Japanese Katakana is “Kurodinnu” hence Kuro which also means black so bam a pun. Knowledge has been leveled up aw yes!

>If I can’t have you! I don’t want no summary baby!

The episode starts with the Starlight play from the previous year again, we find a nervous Mahiru backstage. Karen goes to her and reassures her that it will be ok because they will be on stage together. Mahiru asks if she and Karen would be together forever and Karen, thinking she means everyone in their class, is like “sure!” and sparkles explode everywhere. In present time, Mahiru wakes up and sees Karen and Hikari had already left for school. This is a surprise to her to say the least. She gets ready and runs to school. Futaba and Kaoruko are already at school and going to the practice room, Kaoruko has draped herself on Futaba like a sleepy sloth as usual. Futaba is like “babe wake up please seriously” and Kaoruko complains about the legendary punishment from the previous episode. Meaning it took place off screen already. Then Mahiru runs to the room and finds Karen and Hikari warming up together in the dance room, just like how she and Karen did in episode one. Karen says good morning to the three of them.

Maya walks into the room saying good morning followed by Junna and Claudine. Karen personally says good morning to Maya and tells her that she WILL catch up to her. Maya is like cool awesome, taking Karen’s drive seriously. A dismayed Mahiru gets more sparkles from Karen flying to her. We then go to the opening.

KAREN GOT TO SECOND BAS-*shot*!

Next see that Karen has stepped up her game with practicing and not falling asleep at school, the other girls have taken notice and comment on her newfound drive. The other girls are conversing in the showers about it, Nana is pretty excited for Karen. Kaoruko is very surprised saying Karen being so driven was once as likely to happen as candy falling from the sky. Maya comments to Claudine that Karen could end up being a legit challenge to them, Claudine is like what. No way! Maya exits the shower with Claudine following close behind going HOLD ON, wait up! Mahiru, during all this, seems unhappy with Karen being less dependant on her and thinks something happened while Karen and Hikari were out and about in episode four. After her shower, Mahiru gets a care package from her family. Turns out she’s from the countryside, her family farms for a living. Mahiru is excited to make potato related things for her dorm mates as she did the previous year. Her package also came with a letter from her grandma and a dvd. She waits til after lights out to watch the dvd in the living room.

Mahiru’s real fantasy is double Karen and no Hikari.

Mahiru pops the dvd in and it’s a recording of a local newscast from two years ago. It’s about Mahiru being accepted into the academy and how jazzed everyone is that someone from their small town got into such a fancy school. We learn Mahiru is the oldest of six siblings and has been performing the musical arts and baton twirling for years. She’s won a ton of awards and is pretty much the star of her hometown. The reporter asks what type of star she wants to be but before past! Mahiru gives an answer, present! Mahiru turns the dvd off.

The next day we are in the acting class and Futaba and Claudine are acting out a scene from the Starlight play. Mahiru laments that compared to other girls at this school, she has no shine at all. Karen and Hikari act out a scene from the Starlight play, Mahiru remembers when she and Karen did the same scene together and becomes sad. The class takes a break and Mahiru takes a trip to the bathroom. After leaving the bathroom she overhears Nana talking with two other stage crew members.

Crew Member One says she thinks Karen and Hikari should be the leads in the Starlight play this year and Crew Member Two agrees. Nana on the other hand, doesn’t agree. She says she thinks Maya and Claudine should be the leads again. Crew Member Two points out that it would be kinda silly to have the exact same leads as they did the previous year. Nana starts to object but Crew Member Two cuts her off and says while she thought they did a good job with the play last year, they should do something different this year. Crew Member One agrees with her and says their job as the stage crew was to take care of the stage and develop it further and if Nana wants to be working backstage she needs to always strive to push forward. With that the two crew members leave and Crew Member Two expresses excitement about Karen and Hikari possibly being the leads. Nana, isn’t happy with this conversation. In fact her body language suggests she’s rather angry and frustrated. Mahiru isn’t happy either but for a different reason, she wanted to be the fated couple with Karen but now Hikari will likely be the couple with Karen instead of her. Mahiru feels very left behind to say the least.

When some chuckle fucks won’t let you recreate last years Starlight play.

We jump to the next day, Mahiru wakes up in her bed after dreaming of Hikari and Karen on stage as the Starlight play leads. Depressed, she takes Karen’s pillow and puts her face into it to pine over Karen. Hikari comes back in the room to get something she forgot and leaves. A flustered Mahiru throws the pillow to the camera. Later Karen practices a dance routine with Junna and Futaba and after they are done Mahiru runs up to Karen and gives her a towel. Karen thanks her and uses it before giving it back to her to go back to practice. Mahiru stares at the sweat covered towel, she’s tempted. But Hikari is right next to her drinking a water bottle and goes, “Huh..” and walks away. Mahiru throws the towel and it hits a passing Kaoruko in the face.

This is what happens when you kinkshame someone Hikari!

In the locker room at the end of the day, Mahiru waits for Karen to come in. Nana, Kaoruko, and Futaba pass by expressing excitement about eating the potatoes. Karen does indeed come to the locker room but only to get a drink from her water bottle. She tells Mahiru to leave without her since she’s going to practice more after school. Karen leaves and, also leaves her locker open. Mahiru checks to see if she is alone in the locker room before picking up Karen’s water bottle, she’s going in for an indirect kiss. But before she can get to indirect first base, Hikari is suddenly there getting something she forgot in her locker.

Fed up, Mahiru chucks the water bottle to the ground. She says she can’t take it anymore and tells Hikari that everything changed when she got to the school and she wants Hikari to give Karen back to her. Mahiru says Hikari is talented and therefore can shine on her own but she had nothing but Karen to be able to shine herself. She begs/demands Hikari not to “steal Karen from her”. Hikari is quiet for a moment before saying that the word steal shouldn’t be used lightly. But before shit gets anymore real their phones ring, It’s audition time!

Throw some glitter make it rain~

Going underground we see Giraffe drinking water while commenting about how jealousy takes joy away. We then go to the audition duel. Karen announces her presence then Mahiru does. Karen is surprised to see Mahiru there (does Karen not read who she’s fighting in the text she gets? It does tell them that right?), the duel is titled the Revue of Jealousy. We see cut out props waiting and ready to go and Mahiru jumps into her story reenactment on how she sees Karen. Basically she sees Karen as someone she’s devoted to since Karen was there to reassure her when she was nervous going on stage. Long story short, Mahiru is hardcore in love with Karen but also stakes all of her self worth on being able to take care of her. Mahiru throws sparkles onto Karen and Karen is all ???? through the whole thing. Mahiru refers to Karen as her light and wants to be with her forever like Karen said they would be back then. She won’t give up on Karen and she’ll crush anything that comes in the way, literally. She wants them to be on the eternal stage, together forever. 

The props get into position and the duel begins, the cat mascot Mahiru seems to really likes is all over the place so I will just call him Mr. Cat. Anyways, Mahiru opens the fight by showing off the power of her mace. She slams it into the ground creating a small crater in the stage. Karen, understandably, runs away to get out of her range.

DAMN MAHIRU, never fuck with a girl with a mace!

Mahiru runs after her giggling like a madman and the cute Mahiru and Karen cut out props follow them. Karen is stopped by Mr. Cat cut outs dressed as an empire and a catcher. Mahiru then swings her mace and hits Karen into the air and into a hole like a goddamn combo of baseball and golf. Karen rolls through an underground tube and pops up in, Maya and Futaba’s audition stage next door. They are understably confused seeing Karen popping up and running from a wild Mahiru while Mr. Cat goes ahead of them making a chalk divide on the stage. Maya and Futaba both make a what the fuck expression. Mahiru smacks Karen into a hole again and they go to a different stage.

Maya and Futaba are JUDGING YOU! Their seiyuu are too.

Karen and Mahiru then pop up in Junna and Kaoruko’s duel, Mr. Cat is right ahead of them with his chalk outline. Mahiru chases Karen across the stage. Junna is like “you guys what the fuck are you doing?!” but Kaoruko uses this moment to get the upper hand on her fight with Junna. Mahiru once again knocks Karen outta the stage and goes onto the next one. The next stage is in Hikari and Claudine’s duel, the two of them are on the roof of a building. Mr. Cat drives by with his chalk outline, Hikari sees Karen and Mahiru and is like “Karen?! What?!”. Mahiru looks up, smiles like this :) and skips off after Karen. Claudine meanwhile is like oh sweet a distraction and knocks Hikari off the roof. Both sets of duelist are now on opposite sides of the stage, Claudine is cornering a weakened Hikari and Karen finally has stopped running and tries talking to Mahiru. 

Mr. Cat stops and Mahiru asks Karen to go back to how she was before Hikari came to the school, sleeping in late and such. She wants to be useful to Karen again, Karen says she’s a Stage Girl because she wants to keep her promise with Hikari and therefore she can’t lose to anyone. The two girls drop under the stage one more time and pop back up on their original stage.

KASHIRA KASHIRA!

After getting back to their original stage, Karen and Mahiru start duking it out complete with comic book style sound effect props. They break behind one of the sets and a huge painting of cut out Karen and Mahiru is on the wall. The two end up locking weapons and Mahiru asks if Karen doesn’t need her anymore, if Karen doesn’t need her then she has nothing. No talent, no shine. Karen disagrees, she says that Mahiru already shines on her own! She compliments Mahiru on her music and dancing skills and loves how kind she is and how she performs. Karen says she doesn’t have nothing and Mahiru really does shine on her own, she’s at the school and in the audition duels because she has that shine. Karen breaks the weapon deadlock and knocks a basket of sparkles onto Mahiru saying she has starlight. Mahiru is surprised and touched. The scenery is lifted away and Karen goes to home plate which also happens to be position zero. She wordlessly challenges Mahiru to one last clash and Mahiru accepts. The two back up and charge at each other, Karen knocks Mahiru’s metal badge off and wins. The curtain falls onto Mahiru and we see the stage covered in red curtains like the past two times Karen won, the duel then ends. We see Karen has been bumped up to 7th place on the rankings board.

Wow sports anime these days have gotten really intense.

After the duel scene we go to Mahiru taking a nice depression bath, she comments that she lost the duel. Then we go to Nana taking food out of the oven, she sees Mahiru passing by and is like “heya the potatoes are ready!” Mahiru, to her surprise, sees all of her dorm mates chilling in the living room with lots of different potato related foods. They all thank her for the food and Nana says to eat as much as everyone wants to. Futaba comments the potatoes are just as tasty as last year’s potatoes. Claudine sees Maya really digging those potatoes and says “you really like potatoes don’t you?” Maya then responses the best way possible, saying This Is Potato in english and then starts waxing poetically about them to Claudine. Mahiru is happy everyone is enjoying the potatoes. We then see that Karen had turned on the dvd from earlier, much to Mahiru’s embarrassment, and we hear what Mahiru’s answer was. She says she wants to be a kind star that can make the important people in her life smile. Karen calls Mahiru cute and warm, Hikari says Mahiru is shining. Mahiru smiles, she looks at Karen and internally says I still love you. She internally agrees that she does indeed have her own shine and while still in love with Karen she will stand on her own not place her self worth onto taking care of her anymore. Sparkles fly everywhere, we see Mr. Cat chilling on Mahiru’s bed with her baton and the episode ends. Mahiru is also singing the ending theme this time!

This episode legit gave me a craving for baked potatoes so I made some that day. It was good.

>This episode’s discussion is sponsored by give Mahiru a girlfriend 2k18.

-We learned something important about the auditions, it’s how the stage is set up and that it is possible to crash into other duels going on. Just like the stage play!

--I’m thinking the stage works like the Carousel of Progress maybe? The Carousel of Progress is a ride at Disney World, You sit in the audience and watch a family deal with technology throughout the decades, the audience rotates into different sections for each scene. Hence I think the stage here is also split up into sections. I’m thinking the central point of the whole entire stage is the dead center of Tokyo Tower, the tiara/star tower is smack in the middle. So you could say it’s center stage aka position zero! Ohoho! Also it looks like the tower is in the water itself so maybe the stages are floating platforms? That’s possible I think!

It’s possible the stage, or the audience, can rotate but I think the stage is stationary just sectioned off into four sections. A big stage broken up into four stages basically, I drew two rough pictures (1,2) of what I think the stage layout would look like from a bird’s eye point of view. Here’s two versions with the running route I think Karen and Mahiru took (1,2). Here’s a map key for all the layouts I drew!

Hope it makes sense, I’m not the best artist in the world but I spent three hours on these. Yeah I know I’m a nerd. -w-

Now, the stage is very much magic in nature and therefore doesn’t need to follow reality but it does show layout and structure continuity. The tiara and its tower are always seen in the middle and the arches of the Tokyo tower are also always seen around the stage. The stage likely takes up the width of the base of the tower with room for the orchestra pit lake to surround the stage and the audience is either outside of the tower or is just within the tower at the edge surrounding the whole thing.

The size of the stage section itself well, your size may vary. It is still a magical fucking stage under a whole ass tower that’s hidden below an entire school, it can grow and shrink and adjust anyway it needs to. That’s why when we see a zoom out or audience pov shot of the stage we don’t see other stage sections, we are only seeing the chunk of the stage our focus characters are fighting on and it can be as big or as small as it needs to be. The other sections of the stage is hidden by crazy underground stage magic. However we know if one goes directly under the stage you can end up at different sections hence we know it’s not four separate stages and instead one huge stage split up into four sections.

Another thing I’ve noticed is there seems to be like, water surrounding the stage. It’s in where an orchestra pit normally is, I call it the orchestra pit lake. I’m not sure why the stage is in the middle of a lake, reference to Swan Lake maybe? To Venus again considering water is associated with her? I think that’s where Karen jumped into during episode one? It’s very interesting, lets hope anyone who falls in it can swim lol.

-The other match ups for this episode were, Futaba vs Maya, Hikari vs Claudine, and Karouko vs Junna. The only person not fighting was Nana. This makes sense cause we have an odd number of girls and the writers have been keeping Nana’s fighting abilities a secret. Will talk more about Nana later.

-Karen got bumped up to rank 7. We don’t see the names in the rankings above or below her, I’ll talk about my guesses for the ranks as they are now in the speculation section.

-In episode one we are told Hikari is great at all the things, but both times we've seen her fighting in the duels she's getting her ass kicked, and she is ranked 8 outta 9 slots. Like during her fight with Junna, Hikari was going to lose if Karen hadn’t stepped in. Junna had her pinned to the star via the cape so Hikari couldn’t have slipped out of it cause she’d lose and there wasn’t enough time for her to pull the arrow out because it was embedded in the wood. During her fight with Kuro she has a bit more of an excuse since Karen and Mahiru randomly popped up but, she forgot she was fighting Kuro, the 2nd highest in the ranks. So Kuro just kicks/knocks her off of the roof and she didn’t look so good after that happened. Is it odd I find it funny that Hikari sucks at the duels even though she’s supposedly amazing at stage stuff? Like Hikari, Karen is doing fine! You should worry about yourself my dude. Maybe it’s because she’s fighting with a fucking small ass knife like Hikari why? Don’t bring a knife to a sword fight kids.

-Speaking of episode one, I’m still wondering what Maya meant when she said that she couldn’t see Hikari’s heart? She has a surprised expression when doing a scene with Hikari and seems to be deep in thought about Hikari in the showers later. Then she says that comment about Hikari. Funny, back to contrast this episode to the first one, Maya is quite interested in Karen possibly being a challenge to her but she didn’t react the same way to Hikari possibly being a challenge. What did ya see when you looked at her Maya? What was on your mind? So many questions about like two moments in episode one man.

-The Starlight play’s scenery is also covered in a cloth like at the end of the duels Karen wins except its white instead of red. Related maybe?

-The Legendary punishment occurred off screen, oh. Alrighty then. No fighty greek chorus hell pit for now lol.

-Karen straight up tells Maya she will catch up to her and Maya is like “cool awesome”. Maya really does respect anyone who has passion and drive doesn’t she?

-When talking about about how hard Karen is working Nana is in the same pose that Karen was when talking about Hikari in episode one. Thought that was nifty!

-In Mahiru’s video we see the calendar saying its March 3rd 2016. So this anime for sure takes place in 2018! Probably not super relevant but interesting anyways.

--In episode one the calendar says its May 14th, so assuming each episode takes place during one day then five days have passed since then. In this episode we get two days so now six days have passed. So it’s the 19th as of episode five, and it’s a Friday…or a Saturday. I could be off on my time passing math here, I’m really bad at math honestly. Anyways, that’s a lot of crazy shit to happen in so few days and we aren’t even done yet lol. Once again I don’t think this will be relevant I just find it very interesting.

-Mahiru’s family is cute! In the prequel manga her family is very cute too. Also no wonder Mahiru can weld a mace, all farm kids are very buff after all. And I’m sure her baton twirling only added to that.

--When I was a kid and going to summer camp my mom would send snacks for me to share with everyone in my cabin. So I relate to Mahiru being excited to share food with her dorm mates, I still find that fun to do! It makes me feel happy.

-Mahiru is from a small town so coming to the academy was quite a change I imagine. She went from a big fish in a small pond to a tiny fish in a very big lake. Mahiru attaching her self worth to Karen to give herself some importance in life is due to feeling small and useless in such a big environment. So, when Karen doesn’t depend on her as much anymore she freaks out because without that all her self worth goes out the window she feels like she has nothing. Nothing to stand out or shine for. Karen complimenting her is important to make her see she doesn’t need Karen depending on her to shine. At the end of the day, this duel isn’t really about Mahiru’s romantic feelings for Karen (though that is a factor) but on how much of her self worth was built on taking care of Karen. Now, while still being in love with Karen mind, she decides not to have her self worth be dependent on someone else. Good for her!

-We get more info about the Starlight play! For starters we now know which role is which, Claire is the one Hikari and Maya have played, and Flora is the one Karen and Claudine have played. Considering we’ve seen Karen get shot down from the sky we now know Claire is the one who lives. I was right! We also received more of the lines. Very interesting lines. The scene we see Futaba and Claudine act out has Futaba saying coming to the tower was a mistake and that the light is cruel and “everything you desire will be swept away”. Claudine asks “what will happen to my memories of you?” and if said memories will be lost forever. This gives more evidence that the tiara/star isn’t very benevolent and it’s probably evil.

-The scene Karen and Hikari do is a meeting between Claire and Flora. During Karen and Hikari’s line readings for the Starlight play a star festival is mentioned. This reminds me strongly of the Tanabata Festival. Honestly the Starlight play reminded of the Tanabata Festival since episode one. Tanabata is a summer festival in Japan that celebrates the meeting of star-crossed lovers Orihime and Hikoboshi. Normally the Milky Way separates them but once a year they are able to meet.

The short version of the story is Orihime and Hikoboshi fell in love and married, Orihime was a weaver and Hikoboshi was a cow herder. Orihime’s father loved his daughter’s weaving but after she got married she stopped doing it all the time and he got mad. So because her dad is an asshole, he separated the two lovers via a river of stars aka the Milky Way. Orihime was so upset that her dad was like “fine, you can meet once a year” and magpies make a bridge for them to meet and ta dah the festival is a thing. So basically like in the Starlight play two lovers were separated by selfish forces. Maybe we’ll see magpies around soon considering the connection here.

-Revue Starlight’s animation team has been struggling with a lack of animators but they are still trying their damndest to get this show to us! Here’s an article that talks about that, let’s make sure we support them you guys! An anime this special doesn’t come around everyday after all!

-Mahiru was really aiming for that first base cause she was gonna do indirect kissing. Ya wild Mahiru but don’t worry I still love and support you. uwu

-The girl’s work out sweat jackets all have circles on them. Interesting design choice. I wonder if it’s related to the symbol on the costumes in the Starlight play? Speaking of which!

-I noticed recently the symbol on the Starlight costumes is on the giraffe logo too! Gdi now I really wanna know what it is and what it means even more now! My best guess is still what I said in episode 3’s write up, it’s a combo of a sun and moon symbol. Suns are stars after all so there has to be some sort of connection here. 

The sun seems like it’s rising out of the moon crescent or it’s descending. Maybe it’s, an eclipse? During a partial solar eclipse, it looks similar to the symbol. The eclipse can also turn the sun into an orange color like the symbol, and solar eclipses have a long history of being associated with the supernatural. The word eclipse is greek and it means things like the abandonment, the downfall, or the darkening of a heavenly body. The downfall catches my attention cause of what happens to Flora in the play. Hmmm, need more info about the Starlight Play for sure.

-The visual with Karen, Hikari, and Mahiru is amazing! Karen’s light was coming down on Mahiru but then Hikari came which threw a net over Mahiru so now Hikari gets all the light and Mahiru gets nothing. It was very pretty and good metaphor and symbolism mmm yes.

-The Revue theme this time isn’t related to Karen at all, no it’s all Mahiru. It’s her stage and only her stage. The duels with Junna and Maya all had meaning for both Karen and the person she was fighting. Junna’s theme was longing, both Junna and Karen long for something just out of reach. Junna wants to be up with the big leagues while Karen wants to reach out to Hikari. Maya’s theme was pride, Maya is a very prideful person even though her pride leads to being alone at the top while Karen is overly confident in dueling Maya so it leads to her downfall and losing. Mahiru’s theme was jealousy, she’s jealous of Hikari getting all of Karen’s affection and attention and jealous of the shine everyone has that she feels doesn’t have.

-When giraffes drink water it’s always funny looking and it’s still funny in animated form lol.

-There was no transformation scene this episode. Ok, that’s cool. I wonder if it will look different when we see it again?

-In my last post I was confused about the white thing next to Mahiru and it turns out it was a prop! It was just her weird cat mascot she likes. Works for me lol.

-Now one has to wonder, why the baseball theme for this duel? I’m thinking it represents how Mahiru sees her current situation, it’s a competition of which she is losing. She feels she doesn’t shine enough to compete with the others and she feels she’s now competing for Karen’s attention and love. ALSO in the revue song, it’s involves some baseball too. Nice.

-Despite Mahiru’s stage looking kinda silly, her feelings were taken very seriously. It’s fairy tale like or really it’s an idealized view of Mahiru’s world. Everything looked like it could go into a pop up book and the bright colors and the flowers made me think fairy tale. It shows that Mahiru has a very idealized view of Karen and wants to keep it that way. She wants her and Karen’s relationship to be just as she imagines it and be the same forever. But, that’s not how life works.

People change, people can come along and change you. You can’t really stop that, this duel made Mahiru see how much she built her existence around being useful to her crush. Karen didn’t ask her to devote herself like that of course, it’s just what Mahiru latched onto. She believed that Karen would always need her to look after her but that ended up not being true at all. Karen wasn’t that devoted to her in return anyways, she saw Mahiru as a friend and already had someone she was in love with, even when Hikari wasn’t around just yet. All this kicked off her breakdown. It’s really neat to see how much the stage tells us about a person, like in persona 4 with the shadow selves and with the black rose duels in Utena.

-I loveee how jazzy the duel song was this episode! It really stands out from the previous ones! Makes me look forward to what other songs await us and to when this song comes out on CD. Maya’s is still my favorite though.

-When Karen and Mahiru crash into Maya and Futaba’s duel, the cat mascot (who I’ve been calling Mr. Cat) makes a chalk baseball line between the two duels and he does it for the other two as well. Mr. Cat also stops when Mahiru pauses to talk to Karen in Claudine and Hikari’s stage. I find this a great little detail! It shows that even with Mahiru invading other stages, there are still other duels happening so a line is drawn to keep too much clashing from occurring. The show must go on after all!

-I love the reactions of the other girls seeing Karen and Mahiru crashing into their duels Hikari gets distracted, Junna stops to be like “the hell are you guys doing?!”, but both Claudine and Kaoruko just ignore them and use that moment to attack who they are fighting. Then there’s Maya and Futaba, who BOTH stop to be like “What. What the fuck”. I love they all had different reactions it was great.

-Hikari protected her Mr. White plush from Kuro’s sword while dueling, that’s pretty adorable.

-Mahiru has a symbol in her jewel! What is it? Uhhh. I have some guesses. Will put in the speculation section.

-Karen struggling to pronounce a word, so fucking relatable. Irl I have trouble with pronouncing words too. It was really bad when I was a kid so, I dunno I was excited to see that Karen had this problem too sometimes.

-Home base was position zero! Ha, I get it. Cause, it’s the goal of both a baseball game and the duels. Right on.

-Giraffe saying it’s the fourth audition day so that tells us for sure that no one dueled at all in episode 4. It was obvious anyways but it’s nice to get a verbal confirmation.

-Mahiru’s depression bath made me think of the bathtub scene in Perfect Blue, if the camera was zoomed in while she had her face in the water then I’d call it a shout out.

-I love that the dorm floor has a kitchen. I wonder if the fire alarm is set off a lot cause teenagers cooking doesn’t always go that great lol.

-Karen winning the audition duel had the tower covered in red curtains again, and the curtain was dropped on the person who lost. When Karen was beaten by Maya that didn’t happen so I assume when someone loses, something different happens at the end of the duel depending on who wins. So Karen drops whole ass curtains everywhere and Maya wrecks people on stairs, as it goes sometimes.

-Mahiru’s weapon is interesting, a mace is very powerful. If hit with it packs a huge punch, but it’s slower and less versatile than other weapons are. It also makes her quite a threat, cause there isn’t really a safe way for her to knock someone’s cape or badge off and she has the dexterity to use it well. I do wonder if the girls have any choice in their weapons cause if so, Mahiru omg. She’s like, I’ll take the one that looks like a baton. Amazing.

-Oh Nana, where do I even start with Nana? I thought Mahiru’s breakdown would be super sad and while it was I think Nana’s is going to be the real heartbreaker. It seems like she’s really aiming to recreate the musical as it was in their first year. Paired with her taking photos all the time, Nana strikes me as someone who is very nostalgic. She probably recalls their time as first years as something very fun and peaceful, but now as second years they were chosen to do the audition duels where they fight and it causes conflict between everyone. So I'm thinking Nana wants to go back to that time where that wasn't happening hence she's trying to recreate the past as she remembers it just to get back the happiness she felt a year ago. Nana rather deal with what's known than unknown and the future is very much the unknown.

For Nana, the Starlight play of their first year is representative of that simpler time hence she is resistant to any changes to the play at all. Her body language via her clenched fist shows she’s pissed that the crew members shot down her suggestion for example. Nana doesn't want to accept that times have changed and they can't go back to the past ever again, it scares her and she wants her friends to stay happy and safe like they were back then. So her duel will be quite an intense one I imagine, cause like Claudine and Maya she will resist changing anything like Karen wants to do. Not for the sake of the system per say, but to preserve what she has left of the past. And if the stage play is any indication, Nana doesn’t fuck around when she fights. The show hiding her abilities says to me they are hiding them so we the viewer will be surprised to know how strong, or even brutal, she is. Remember, she’s ranked in third for a reason. Ah, poor Nana. This is gonna be rough. ono

-Mahiru was in the bath after the duel, not waking up in bed like we’ve seen with Karen. Interesting. Did. Did she fall asleep in the bathtub? Gdi I’m dying to know how the revue works oh man.

-While Karen and Mahiru were sprinting through the other duels we see the stages of previous two fights are the same as last time, Junna had her weird glasses buildings and Maya had the huge staircase. So this makes me think that Hikari’s is the stars one we saw in the first episode, even if Hikari wasn’t controlling it. Odd right? But I think I figured it out! Here's how I think the stage design and control works. A Stage Girl can get control of the stage she fights on, whoever is considered stronger, or if no assertion is made by the one of the girls, is the one who shapes the stage’s design. But, the Stage Girl’s opponent can take control of the stage from the one who created it. That’s what Junna did in episode one then, Hikari designed the stage but Junna took control of it. And the jewels on the weapons is the remote controller of the stage.

We get to see a little of Claudine’s stage design too, it seemed pretty European I think. I’m gonna assume French because of Kuro’s heritage. Took a look at the end of Kuro and Maya’s fight and considering all the greek looking columns I’m gonna say Maya had control over that stage. I’m also gonna note that Karen still hasn’t ever asserted control over a stage. It makes sense with her character yes but I do wonder if a time will come when she does use the stage like that.

-So! It looks like Karen decided to be more ambitious. That’s neat, especially since it looks like she’ll keep it up. I’m very curious to see how this plays out.

-THIS. IS. POTATO! It was cute that Maya was so excited about potatoes. Her eating that many also makes sense, she dances and that takes A LOT of energy. I’ve seen ppl who do sports have pasta parties before an event to fuel up so to speak. Also wow Maya just fucking, started monologging about potatoes to Claudine. What a dork, I adore her. Futaba and Kaoruko chanting about potatoes and the scene where Futaba is feeding her girlfriend was also really cute. And all the girls are right, potatoes are the fucking best.

-Does Kuro regularly or often run after Maya shouting at her about something right after they shower while fuckin naked? Cause it seems like that’s the case considering how chill Maya is about it lol.

-Next episode, judging by the preview summary for it, we hear Kuro and Futaba have been hanging out a lot lately apparently. Futaba has a girlfriend and Kuro has her overly complicated lesbian mating dance with Maya, so I guess we will find out if Kaoruko and Maya are the jealous type. It seems to me like Kaoruko is. Maya also strikes me as for sure the jealous type, and this isn’t based off of what she said in episode 4. No, it’s very obvious that Maya is just as obsessed with Kuro as Kuro is obsessed with her. Maya is just more subtle about it. Off the stage Maya only has eyes for Kuro, that is shown with her doing things like turning on the lights for her in episode one and praising her during her fight with Karen in episode 3 and always seeking her out and looking very happy when she’s with her. She wants Kuro’s attention too, Kuro challenges her like no one else does and so she wants all of Kuro’s passion to go towards her even if it’s negative. 

So, what happens if Kuro starts paying attention to someone else? And I don’t just mean interacting or being friends with other girls I mean practicing extensively with someone else. Like what Kuro and Futaba is doing right now. Will Maya start to get jealous over that? Or will she be thinking nah there’s no issue cause ofc Kuro will prefer her over anyone else? I’m very curious to see what the answer is here.

>I wonder I wonder oh I do wonder? Speculation time!

-Karen got a new rank this episode which means the other ones had to have shifted too. Here are my guesses for what the placements are now. First let’s look at episode three’s placements as a reminder: 1: Maya 2: Claudine 3: Nana 4: Kaoruko 5: Futaba 6: Mahiru 7: Junna 8: Hikari 9: Karen

We know Karen’s is now 7th and I think it’s safe to assume the top three are the same so that covers Maya, Claudine, and Nana (who didn’t duel this episode anyways so her rank wouldn’t change). So that leaves numbers 4, 5, 6, 8, and 9 a mystery. The challenge here is we don’t know how many wins or loses it takes to rise or fall in the ranks. However considering what we’ve seen I’m thinking you either get more chances the higher you rank cause Kuro lost her fight against Maya but she’s still ranked second or it’s a two strikes you’re out kind of deal. So with that in mind, let’s start guessing.

Karen jumped from 9th to 7th so I assume Mahiru also dropped the same amount which places her in 8th place. 7th place was Junna’s but since Mahiru lost taking 8th place and Karen taking 7th then that means Junna must have won. If Junna lost then it would be odd that Karen only gets to 7th place since Mahiru was 6th so Junna had to have won putting Karen in 7th so she, being higher ranked than Karen in the first place, took 6th. And Junna losing would’ve cause someone to bottom outright and it’s a bit too soon for that sort of thing to happen. 

However it is likely that Junna could’ve risen a little higher than 6th because of Futaba and Kaoruko. If we assume Junna won then Kaoruko would’ve lost therefore dropping her down in rank from 4th place. Futaba likely lost against Maya, like come on if she lost against Kuro than she stood little chance beating Maya, so she drops from 5th place. The drop would likely place Futaba in 6th and Kaoruko into 5th. This would launch Junna into 4th place. Hikari very likely lost her duel, she didn’t look like she was doing so hot fighting Kuro and I legit can’t see her winning against her judging by her track record. Also if Hikari won she’d either magically jump super duper hi or she’d bottomed out and that doesn’t make very much sense to me to happen at this point in the show. SO considering all these factors this is my prediction/educated guess for what the rankings are as of episode 5: 1: Maya 2: Claudine 3: Nana 4: Junna 5: Kaoruko 6: Futaba 7: Karen 8: Mahiru 9: Hikari

I hope I explained it in a way that makes sense. Here’s my uh, work (1,2) so to speak for how I got to the conclusion that I did. I spent 20 minutes thinking of this LOL.

-I’m wondering what is the symbol in Mahiru’s jewel? Still don’t know what Junna’s is for sure, leaning towards a butterfly or a flower but idk. Anyways, for Mahiru’s it looks to me like it’s an eye. The very first thing that came to mind was an amulet my grandma gave me that was a blue eye, she told me it warded off evil. I looked it up and what my grandma gave me is a Turkish symbol called a Nazar. It’s an amulet that wards off the evil eye, like my grandma told me it wards off evil and bad luck. Ironic for Mahiru who is unlucky in love. There is also the Eye of Horus but the eye in Mahiru’s jewel looks too vertically narrow to be that. If not an eye, it also looks kinda like a bullseye. Poked around Japanese Mythology but not much to be found that’s relevant. Two things I found was that two gods, Amaterasu and Tsukuyomi, were born from Izanagi’s eyes and there's a youkai with an eye in it’s ass…..Yup.

-There’s a joke tweet about Maya using her duel with Karen to vent about her relationship issues she has with Kuro but ya know, I’m thinking the venting via these duels is exactly where the show is going towards. I’ve seen a theory floating around that a way Karen could use the audition duels for good is using them to sort out all the girls personal issues and I’d have to agree. The past two fights we’ve seen Karen win has had a positive effect on her opponent. Both Junna and Mahiru basically got to vent both verbally and physically. Karen empathized and talked them through their issues, and fought through them of course. Also the stages themselves are very much influenced by the mental state of the Stage Girl who created it so that probably helps Karen, and us the viewer, understand them.

I think Karen is surprisingly a good listener and it helps she understands where they are coming from. She relates to Junna’s struggles and she’s able to lift Mahiru up because she knows her very well. I think Karen is just the kind of person that’s easy to talk to. So that begs the question now, well what issues do the remaining girls have? My guess is the following!

Futaba and Kaoruko don’t need Karen really, they will probably run into relationship issues so they will fight each other to work that out. As you do. I’ll keep Nana’s short cause I’ve talked about her a lot already. Right now Nana will enforce the system because then nothing will change and she doesn’t want to go into an unknown future. Nana’s will be about her finally letting go of the past, accepting they can’t go back but they can still move forward and be happy.

Claudine is kind of a hard one to figure out but I think it will be about her feelings for Maya, not just romantic ones mind but also her desire to be number one. Before coming to the academy she was probably number one in everything she did, and then she came there and met Maya. Maya’s presences dropped her to being number two instead. Kuro doesn’t like being the second best, she wants to be THE best. But one, she hasn’t been able to beat Maya still and that’s frustrating her to hell and back. And two, well she’s gotten attached to Maya. If she does beat her, then what? Has she even thought that far ahead? I think a possible solution to this is for Kuro to start seeing her relationship with Maya differently, both romantically and as a rival. And ofc realizing she doesn’t really hate Tendou Maya, no she’s in love.

In France (Paris specifically) there is a bridge called Pont des Arts but it’s most well known for being the love lock bridge. Many couples have locked a padlock on the bridge and threw the key into the river as a symbol of their eternal love. While in real life the locks were eventually removed because there was so many of them the bridge started collapsing (well damn man), this bridge has become a romantic symbol and location in pop culture. So what I’m saying is if Kuro’s stage is France themed then this bridge could totally be used here! That would be cool.

As for Maya, while yes her relationship with and romantic feelings for Kuro will be a factor, I think her struggle is with loneliness. During her duel with Karen she said more than once in spoken words and in song that being Top Star meant being alone, and while Maya does hang out with the other girls she doesn’t do so individually besides with Kuro. She’s part of the group yes but she is less their equal peer and more of an unapproachable figure. Maya has said that she’s accepted that she’ll be alone as Top Star, but I’m thinking that’s not entirely true. It’s her frequently seeking out Kuro that makes me think that. In her mind, Kuro is her only real equal. The only one who can challenge her, or even understand her. If Maya is ready to throw away all relationships to be at the top then why keep seeking Kuro out? Why spend time at all with her floormates? This includes when she took part in covering for Hikari and Karen in episode four, why help out others if she’ll be alone anyways?

What also makes me think it isn’t true Maya is fine with being alone is that Maya has a habit of not always really meaning what she says, for example she says to Kuro in episode 4 that she competes for Top Star out of jealousy but her body language and facial expression says that isn’t the real reason why she competes. Instead it looks like a non answer and that had she said that just to fire her crush up because she loves it when Kuro is passionate and driven. Hell Maya likes to see that kind of thing in anyone, you can see that in her reaction to Karen in this episode.

So that begs the question, why does she want this mysterious Top Star? I think the answer is, because she’s grown up to believe she always always must seek the top, the highest place possible. Remember Maya is the child of famous stage actors, regardless of how her parents treated her she likely still grew up under tons of pressure and expectations to be the best. And things like failure or not reaching the top was something that wasn’t an option. In her official bio both for the anime and the manga Maya is even described as “a thoroughbred in the world of theater”, which last I checked you don’t normally call people something like a thoroughbred. You call prized animals who have been shaped and groomed to win races thoroughbreds.

What I’m getting at is, I think Maya is going for the Top Star because she’s been taught to always go for the highest and best position possible so of course she’ll try for this crazy possibly magical Top Star thing. It’s what she’s supposed to do right? She has pride and ambitions for sure but as Kuro pointed out in episode four, Maya doesn’t really need the audition duels to get to the top. But here she is, because she’s Tendou Maya who has to be on the top no matter what and no matter what that means. If she isn’t, then what does she have? What is she? She can’t be a failure, she can’t faulture. All other desires must be put aside for this, even though she enjoys the craft there is still that push she learned from childhood, keep going keep climbing and push down whatever and whoever you need to to get to the top.

Because she believes that she has to get to the top all the time she has resigned herself to being alone, forever apart from others. But that isn’t what she wants. I think that will be the armor piercing question for Maya, what do you really want? If Karen is indeed the one who fights her, then Karen’s big challenge is convincing Maya that it doesn’t have to be this way. She doesn’t have to resign to jack shit, she doesn’t have to be alone. Karen has to get to her to believe that the system can change cause right now Maya probably doesn’t think it can be. Maya thinks it is what it is and she’ll follow whatever the system says, she is a symbol of the system because she was bred to be one. And when you are bred for the theater and grow up in the system the idea of change seems impossible and it will be hard for Maya to believe in that. So that’s my guesses for future duel stuff!

-I have a theory that what is lost from being booted from the duels is memories of the passion of the theater but I’m gonna expand on this theory in a different post or in episode 6’s write up cause this post is getting pretty damn long as it is. So instead I’m just writing it down here to keep in mind.

>THIS IS A MUSICAL, SUBTITLE THE SONGS GOD DAMMIT!

-The first subs I found didn’t have the song translated like, you guys this is a musical series! YOU NEED TO TRANSLATE THE SONGS! It’s very annoying that there are subs for this show that keep doing this. TRANSLATE THE SONGS!

-Speaking of subbing issues, Mahiru says at the end of the episode “I still love you” towards Karen but in some subs its been translated as “I love this”. Oh god, don’t. No. Fucking christ. Listen, I appreciate fansubs and subs in general. It’s a lot of hard work and for fansubs it’s for free on top of it. But y’all need to consider things like context! This, isn’t cool. Why does this series have so many subbing issues? Combined with the production issues it makes me wonder how did this show become such an underdog? Like wow man.

>Hello from the other sideeee! The post is really long tonighttt!

The more the anime goes on, the more fascinating it gets. I love it a lot! I can’t believe only 5 (soon to be 6) episodes have aired! It feels like so much has happened already. Next time, the local gay couple have a bit of a fight so they gonna use the magic giraffe stage to sort that shit out. I hope it’s not too sad, stay strong Futaba and Kaoruko! ;w;

See ya next time on the stage for episode 6!

[softhaos]

FRAGMENTS OF AFFECTION

pairing – kim mingyu x reader genre – angst + slowburn + non-idolverse description – everyone knew he was too good to be true. from the way he looked at you with eyes too loving to his proximity too close whenever you intertwined hands. everyone knew except you. warning – mentions of alcohol but no consumption song rec – hard to love | bolbbalgan4 word count – 2,002 words author’s note – i wanted to post this days ago as a “holy crap thank you so much for reading my fics and leaving nice messages once in a whilef” but that didn’t work out oops but hey, better late than never !! look this is my attempt at angst,,,, maybe i should stick with fluff heh,,

When people told you that Mingyu was too perfect a boyfriend, you took it as a compliment. He gave you the world which merely consisted of a gracious amount of skinship and sweet words that reflected his overflowing adoration for you. It was a small world you lived in, but as long as he was the sun in your life it was more than enough. You were certain that the string you tied around one another wasn’t going to tear.

When people begged to differ, you were confused. Perfect didn’t exist and Mingyu was too good. They were convinced that Mingyu was the epitome of chaos behind his angelic demeanor. You assumed they just didn’t want you to be happy for once even after the countless heartbreaks and countless exes you had been put through.

But with time, you figured they had been right all along.

When you encountered Kim Mingyu the first time, namely in a small cafe just two blocks away from Subway, he didn’t necessarily catch your attention the moment he stepped into the coffee shop. Meeting him was the aftermath of yet another blind date set up by your friends who thought they’d do you a favor. Not that Mingyu wasn’t attractive – quite the contrary, he was one of the more good-looking fellas you’ve seen around, but he just looked so neat and shy and plain in that black turtleneck, same colored slacks and beige coat buttoned up all the way. At this point, you’d rather escape to Subway and go through the hassle of ordering a sandwich. Nonetheless, you refrained from doing so.

What was originally supposed to be a date over a cup of coffee turned out to be a full-hearted conversation based on mutual feelings on particularly peculiar topics over the span of two cups of coffee and five batches of chocolate chip cookies. At first, his true colors were veiled behind the natural awkwardness he possessed and unusual jokes that took you a good minute to comprehend. His gaze wandered everywhere except at you yet whenever you talked and your gaze drifted outside to stare at the pedestrians and occasional vehicles passing by, you could sense his eyes on you, the brightest star right then.

But once you tore down bits and pieces of the walls he had built around him, you caught a glimpse of the klutz that defined Kim Mingyu, the tongue-tied man he was whenever he was nervous or had too many thoughts occupying his mind simultaneously, the suddenly much more likable guy for adding cereal after milk. You noticed how pretty his eyes were, how much depth and innocence his gaze held and detected the slight lisp he held. It was the little things that made him stood out from your past romances and flings. Then again, you always paid attention to details in every person and that had been your mindset with everyone before him.

Theoretically speaking, he shouldn’t have intrigued you as much as he managed to. In the end, what he revealed of himself wasn't something you hadn't heard before. Being a great cook might have been impressive for some others, but with the handful of people you met, it was no longer mesmerizing. You heard all of his stories too many times as if the same record was playing over and over again but each time in different stereos.

There were many reasons that spoke for why Kim Mingyu was nothing more than a fling if you took the chance and way too little arguments why Mingyu would be right this time. But when you met him in the supermarket for the third time out of the three times you went grocery shopping after that not-so horrible tragedy of a date, you started to question your rationality.

Though still as plain when it came to his choice of clothing, Mingyu was definitely bolder than on your initial meeting. He was the one who dared the first step and stirred up the conversation, the one who would ask how you were doing, the one who pitched into the same direction on the way home but took a left turn at the second crossroad. His stories remained as common as ever, nothing that wowed you, yet behind his words lied the charm laced in his voice that pulled you in. At one point, he built up enough courage to invite you over to dinner and as much as your reason desperately tried to pry him off, you said yes.

You didn’t regret your choice.

Besides finding out that Mingyu did live up to his self-proclaimed title as an amateur chef, he finally showed his true colors, ranging from the warmest hue to his darkest sides he was unwilling to unravel right away. Neither of you was intoxicated by an alcohol rush – hell, all he had was apple juice, all sorts of coke and water – but if anyone were to barge in and interrupt your two-man fiesta, they would’ve staked out the entire apartment looking for some nonexistent stash. What started out as a small conversation about minuscule life updates while enjoying pasta evolved into questions about different types of potatoes as you got tipsy on water and hiccuped on vanilla and cherry coke mixed together.

That was also when you took notice of his slight lisp, his habit of tangling his fingers in his jet-black hair after a good laugh, his lips pressed together as he tried to suppress his grin. In a matter of hours, there was no longer any trace of the diplomatic Mingyu who cracked some awful puns when he was feeling humorous. Instead, a carefree and significantly more resolute Mingyu who didn’t shy away from pulling you onto the couch and spilling a bit of cola along the way took his place.

Reminiscing about past memories, slurring about precedents and laughing about disastrous ways to end a date in the hospital made the evening worthwhile. Topics that you never even thought of were brought to light and made you realize that there was something more in the vessel that belonged to Kim Mingyu. All the while as his slender fingers softly tugged on the roots of your hair and as he looked at you with so much affection it proved his soberness, he didn’t dare to delve into deeper territory. In the back of your mind, you were fairly sure the evening was going to escalate to you staying the night and waking up under the sheets in his embrace the next morning. Though once you saw his reluctance and restraint to bruise your lips (more or less), you were proved wrong.

Appreciating his self-control and the boundaries he didn’t want to cross at this early stage, maybe your rationality had been wrong about him the entire time. You enjoyed the pace he was opting for, acknowledged his effort and was utterly affected by his entirety. Throughout the night your lips never touched once, but his touches still ghosted on your skin even when he was no longer near. Slowly but surely, he became the center of your world and so did you become his. That was how you began to love him, little by little.

It was a long process to get where you were now, but the long journey made the result so much sweeter. Innocent touches and intertwining fingers in public was how you started off before Mingyu finally pulled himself together and pressed featherlight kisses on the top of your hair and cheek. The memory of your very first proper kiss in the middle of the night while watching reruns of Spongebob was initiated by you – a quick peck on his lips before he no longer cared if he looked like a tomato and pulled you into a second, deeper one. Out of your fairly long list of past lovers, nobody had managed to strike you as hard as Mingyu. Of course, he was aware of your previous relationships but that had never caused him to look at you in a different light. If not, it urged him to cherish you even more. Even though he wasn’t your first in anything, he made it feel as if he was your first.

Everything was perfectly fine. You were perfectly fine and the only trouble was the whirlwind of emotions that overcame you every hour of the day caused by him, but you wouldn’t want to have it any other way.

Kim Mingyu held your heart in his hands and you wouldn’t want to have it any other way.

You had reached the level where you confined your trust in him, where you sought comfort in him and where you saw home in him. There were no secrets kept hidden from one another and throughout the months of being together, not even a single catastrophic fight had taken place. A few playful bickerings here and there had happened but there had never been a gigantic tear in your relationship that blew it out of proportion. You knew the huge storm would come up sooner or later but you didn’t expect it to destroy everything.

The thunder resounded at a party and truth be told, you should’ve seen it coming. Though the jealousy was running thick, you chose not to intervene just yet despite your fathomable desire to give him a piece of your mind. You still didn’t say a word when you saw him feverishly kissing someone who wasn’t you as if his life depended on it. Knowing Mingyu for so long, you knew he couldn’t hold his liquor well and had impulsive tendencies when he was intoxicated by the burning rush.

But when he pulled back and gave you a perfect sight on his dark eyes which weren’t clouded by anything, but crystal clear with nothing but soberness and intense warmth reflected in them, that was when the lightning struck. You knew that gaze too well, the look he sent you every time because he was so infatuated with you and had no filter to hide any of his affection. But what differed the affection he displayed at that moment than like he usually did was that those feelings weren’t directed towards you.

The second major difference you noticed was that the unconditional adoration radiating from him was more real than the love he had ever shown you – if what he gave you had been real in the first place.

You didn’t need anyone to tell you whether what they shared was a fling or actual love that was blooming unbeknownst to you while Mingyu was supposed to be exclusively yours. Of course, it was the latter. You might’ve been oblivious to it before, how his love for you slowly died out and how hard he struggled to make it work (as pointed out by your friends once when they noticed his torn gaze lingering on you for a second too long or his posture suddenly tense for an unfathomable reason), but the only fact that mattered was that he didn’t choose to stay.

Just like that, your entire world crumbled down until only remnants of what used to be remained.

You couldn’t bring it over yourself to not feel anything for him. Mingyu left a scar too deep in you and nothing could ever stop you from being emotionally invested in him. But you also couldn’t welp in eternal sorrow and infinite lovesickness or hope that he’d come back with clean hands. It was clear that nothing could equal to your relationship before. Mingyu would never let that happen and neither would you.

If you couldn’t diminish your feelings for him, you had to change them.

And so, all timeless love you harbored for Mingyu turned into unceasing hate.

[tumblueberry]

Okay guys buckle up because I forgot to update Serena’s adventures last week and this one’s game has been amazing too. It’s three pages in word worth of text, you’ve been warned.

Last week:

We got to the nearest town in our way north to a Baroness' lands. Royce the human warlock knows her and apparently has some kind of deal (and respect to a point) this woman. The plan is to go there so they can do their business, tell her about the giants and dragons we saw and then continuing our quest to recovering his and our cleric's lost years of youth.

We arrive, a guard from a prominent order greets us and points us to the two inns in town. After chatting a bit about how things are here, we go to the good inn. There, we find our new bard YAAASS. His name is Justin Keis. Read it again. Yes. It's a pun. I love him already. Justin was talking to the bartender and she was being racist, so Nayah the human paladin stood up for him, and then the rest of the party just came down to the woman. Justin is a tiefling, btw! So, we obviously decided she didn't deserve our money! We went to the bad inn instead xD It smelled bad, everything was sticky and the bartender was an asshole, but at least he was like that to everybody and not just the weirdly colored, horned ones. There, we find our other new companion. His name is Elarel and he's a sea elf? Or something like that? An elf but like... green xD

Somehow we end up telling the man about what happened, he runs outta the place and we're left there with our super awful stews while we hear how people are freaking out. Of course, the boss of the previous guard enters the inn shortly after and we tell him again about the giants in the sky. Bit of time passes, we go to the small market and learn about ships not being able to go fishing because of the pirates. They have to buy food from nearby towns and everyone is misserable. I bought and stiletto though B) and Molk the lizzardfolk bought a big fish just to use the bone. Uro, his caracal companion, had a feast xD Then Royce bought some new clothes for the visit to the Baroness and I can't remember what else.

Anyway, we then go the beach and of course it turned into an anime beach episode. But like, with nudity and obscenity. First of, we made a little fire and Justin started playing his lute. Alana the half-elf clerid took off her clothes and ran into the water after a bit of meditation. Royce took off his clothes, swam and then started running after Uro with no success. But just imagine a 60 year old man, naked, running after a fucking caracal in a beach xDDD Meanwhile Molk was enjying some scuba diving and seeing THINGS, but we don't know what. Nayah joined us later in the water and Alana used thunderwave to create huge waves! It was cool, Serena swam along with the big wave and then did the little mermaid with her hair, looking just like one. I'm very proud of that. I also used shape water to create penises and boobs in the air with water xDDD After that I ran out of the water and rolled over the sand until I reached Justin and joined him with my flute. It was all very chill then. Last thing we did was making our own stew with potatoes and fish, not very good but better than the inn's lol. Then went to said inn, drank a bit, saw Royce having a fight with a random dude and then basically going to bed!

THE NEXT DAY aka today's game:

We wake up, take our horses and head out of this town promising to our dear Nayah we'll come back to help with the pirates. We also heard there were some trouble with missing people and attacks in the road we had to take up north, so we tell her we'll investigate. Later that day we set camp and look around for clues on big animals or something that could be attacking travelers... turns out, a fucking undead demon thing shows up. I don't know the name of the creature, but it was like a skelleton dog with fire instead of meat or furr. He saw Nayah, so we had to fight. During the fight we got lucky and the thing didn't touch us. We could destroy it and see how the palading precisely got the HDYWDT and it was awesome, she sank her axe into the creature's skull, it broke in half and then the entire thing turned into ashes. From them, we found a medallion with the symbol of the Lord of the Hells or something like that. Royce wanted to keep it but Nayah talked him into not wearing the symbol of a forbidden and perverted faith that was based in hurting others. So, we decide to not tell this to anyone, unlike the giant-dragons thingy in the previous town, and maybe only tell the mayor/person in power in the next place. We agree to shut our mouths and go to sleep.

Next day, we take our things and horses and ride to the next town, a happier, richer place. Less inhabitants but many farming lands. A guard stops us to say hello and ask our business and we're told they only had problems with outlaws. And something about the mayor but I didn't really get what's the deal with that woman :/ Anyway, the guard kindly points us towards the two taverns in town and we go to the less expensive one. Still kinda expensive for our little money looool. There, Royce tries to pick a fight with another random man but the owner of the inn was there and threw a dagger to the table where they were almost getting into the fight. They stop, obviously, and we go talk to the woman. She was an adventurer too once, and she sees us as adventurers to be. The woman asks us what we want, we talk about drinks and rooms, and then Royce asks for rumors. Justin said he wanted to play in the little scenario so I told the woman we would perform the greatest show she's ever seen! So, while Royce and Alana kinda exchange rumors with the owner, I start thinking about what the hell I will do. Now, I'm very sorry for myself, Serena and you guys, because I was NOT paying attention to them talking. My anxiety went over the roof and all I could do was trying to plan a good show by myself. The thing is, Justin's player was trying to get wifi from a plaza outdoors because he doesn't have it nstalled in his new students' rooms yet! So we could only communicate during his turns very briefly and through text, that made it more difficult to share info and plan shit. WELL, I can only remember that at some point Nayah and Royce were talking about the Baroness and gods and being a good person?? Oh, and that this woman apparently may have deals with pirates, yes, that's why Nayah was kinda angry and wanted to really talk to the Baroness. If this woman has a lot of farming land, produces a lot of food, and then has deals with pirates to prevent other towns from fishing aka getting their own food and way of living... they'll depend or her and her product, thus making her more rich sinc they have to buy food from her lands.

That's all I can gather :/ I may ask in private another day...

After that, more people arrive to drink after the day’s work, including the mayor and some friends of the innkeeper!

When they all had their talk time, the DM gave us bards the chance to describe what we do. And here goes our performance, I'm very proud of it, I had ideas and the dice really blessed us tonight :__) First, Justin starts playing the lute from the bar where we were drinking. I follow him for a few steps and then rise my voice so I'm heard “Ladies, gentlemen, dear audience here in our beloved Chatty Troll (the tavern lol)! Tonight you'll be witnesses of a very peculiar performance from the hands of the most singular Justin Keis – give the man an applause!- and yours truly, Serena of Shalesteps!” /applauds to herself as well. The people were responding but not too interested yet. “Look closely, and don't miss a thing... WATCH THIS!”. I start tapping the scenario at the rythm of Justin's lute, clapping to encourage the audience to do te same. When I'm sure I have their attention I grab my two daggers and brand new stiletto, I play with them, throw them in the air, juggling while tapping the floor. Justin's music gets more intense, and so I conjure and illusion of an extra dagger right in the air. The tavern was IMPRESSED, people started cheering and clapping on their own. Justin made the music go more and more intense, and reaching the climax I put the blades away, put out my flute with some accrobatic moves and start playing with my companion. Then, I cast cloud of daggers and the audience GASPS, everyone surprised, applauding, going crazy for us! A kid tried to touch the daggers but I stepped in front of them and just started walking around the area to prevent any other curious hands that would probably be chopped off :) Justin decides to stop the intense music, so I puff away the daggers and let him do his more peaceful, quieter melody now. He starts playing something soft and beautiful, singing along, then I accompany the melody with my own flute. We play a bit more and when he signs me with his head, we both stop at the same time and bow.

EVERYONE WAS GOING CRAZY ABOUT IT. We had such good luck with the dice, dudes, some nat20s, some beautiful high rolls, we were LIT SHIT this evening. The people at the inn threw us money to the scenario, we got asked things, the innkeeper invited us to drinks and we could stay there for free, FREE! Yassss I'm so proud of us :__) This is a fucking dream, you guys.

The best part is, Serena saw two kids trying to play with knives and she went there and taught them things, just like when she was a little rascal of a girl and some circus guy taught her about throwing daggers ;__;

After that, Royce got into a fight, lost, we drank aaaaand end of the game! Most of us got drunk and woke up with a hangover, but that's a problem for next Tuesday. Aaaah I'm so hyped I can't sleep xD We had a BLAST! Bar fighting, performance, an undead demon dog thing from hell!

Best party ever, guys, I'm thrilled.

More next week! Sorry it's such a long read lol. Love you guys <3

[freshwatercroisant-blog]

Junkrat X Reader: The Bomb!

Here’s my first fan fiction for the blog. Some fluff, SFW. Might be a little too long, sorry ;-;

I hope you enjoy!

The sound of your sneakers and Mercy’s heels filled the medical bay as she finished up the last bits of your physical. This was the last step to becoming a member of Overwatch – something you’ve wanted to be part of ever since it was mentioned to you. It has heartbreaking when they disbanded, but the news of them joining back together once more was all the encouragement you needed! Excitement rushed through your body as Mercy set the rather overstuffed folder down by her computer.

“Everything looks good, _____,” She gave you a warm smile. “I’m glad to see so much energy coming from a new recruit.”

“My physical, it went well?” You asked, almost not believing her joyous tone.

“Of course. I just need to put everything in the system and you’ll be good to go.” She sat down and began leafing through the papers. “Now, if you go towards the front of the building, Morrison should be waiting for you. He’ll show you to your room. I believe your boxes have already been moved.” You nodded and thanked her, quickly walking out of the room.

Long hallways and an abundance of doors made the building seem like a labyrinth, you thought. The natural light pouring in through the large windows took away the enclosed feeling of it. Mercy had told you that the building was constructed to room all of the Overwatch members, as well as providing a dining area, a training area, and a shooting range to accommodate everyone’s needs. You were excited to meet everyone!

“Ah, _____,” Morrison acknowledged you as you walked up to him. “Follow me, I’ll show you to your room.” He adjusted his jacket and headed down the hall.

The walk was rather quiet; you could already tell he was a man of few words. You did attempt to make small talk, mentioning how much you looked up to the Overwatch crew even after they disbanded. That seemed to make him go even quieter, if that was possible. He replied in nothing more than hums and grunts.

“Here’s your room. The junker boys brought your boxes in, but uh…” He trailed off as you opened your door. You looked back, waiting for him to finish. “Just check your boxes to make sure everything’s there. We’ll be having lunch soon, you know how to get to –”

“I know, I know,” You assured him. “Thank you, Mr. Morrison. Training after lunch, correct?”

“Yes,” He answered, closing your door. You turned around to grab a thin jacket when you heard him open the door back up. “Also, just ‘Morrison’ is fine.” He said through the crack, leaving soon after.

You made your way to the cafeteria, and as you approached the double doors, you could hear some yelling. Nervousness crept up your spine, accompanied with chills, but you braced yourself and opened the left door, only to have the right one slammed open by an angry-looking cowboy who adorned a lovely shade of mashed potatoes across his chest in a sloppy splatter.

“Oi, McCree! Wait!” The charred Australian caught your eye as he cackled, “Don’t you wanna play ‘hot potato’ anymore?” He busted out in laughter once more, only to earn a shove from the heavier-set masked man beside him.

Morrison caught your attention with a throaty yell. “Jamison!” He stomped over to the lanky man. “I told you to set an example for the new –”

“Hiya!” The troublemaker waved excitedly at you as he interrupted the angry man. You weren’t too sure if you were to wave back or not as Morrison glanced over to see you almost frozen in place. Assuming that ignorance was the best option, you shoved your hands in your pockets and walked as quickly as you could manage to grab yourself a tray of food.

Before you had a chance to sit down, you could hear the same Australian yelling for you. Looking over to the source, you could see him violently shaking his arms in the air, gesturing you to come over. You decided that it would be best to see what he wanted before he dislocated his shoulders.

“Hello there,” You greeted awkwardly, still standing in front of them. “Is there something you needed?”

“Yeah, yeah, si’down! Take a seat!” He waved his hand at the chair across from him. You looked around, and with Morrison out of your sight, you decided it couldn’t hurt to at least try to talk to them. “Name’s Junkrat, mate,” He smiled a toothy grin that was somewhere between manic and goofy. “This is m’pal, Roadhog! Say hi, Roadie!” The larger man sighed heavily and raised his hand slightly.

“_____,” You replied. “I, uh – are you two the ‘junkers’?” You guessed, using the lanky man’s name as a clue.

“The two and only!” He cackled again. “We’re the ones who carried all your stuff to y’new room!” He posed heroically, causing a small giggle to come from you.

“Oh, ah, thanks guys, I appreciate it,” You began eating.

“You excited for training?!” Junkrat asked, almost to excitedly.

“Well, I’m still new, so I’m nervous,” You cleared your throat. “I don’t know who I’ll be working with yet. Morrison said it’ll be randomized.”

“Ah, don’t worry, darl’! After all, you’ll probably end up with one or both of us. We’re a force to be reckoned with, we are,” He nudged Roadhog, earning a nod. You nodded as well, still not too sure of what to say, and continued eating.

“Alright, before we start, I’m sure the news has reached all of you; this is our new recruit, _____.” Morrison gestured to you. “_____ has already had some prerequisite training, but it wouldn’t kill you guys to provide a little guidance.” He pulled out an envelope and announced the teams.

“Tracer, Lucio, _____, Junkrat, Reinhardt, Hanzo. You’ll be defending.” You saw Junkrat’s expression fall when he realized his friend’s name wasn’t announced with his own. “Roadhog, myself, McCree, Mercy, Pharah, and D. Va will be attacking. Get to your assigned area and we’ll begin.”

You followed your team, listening to them as they explained what they can do for the team. Strategics were key and the main focus; Junkrat had you following him, showing you where he was putting his traps and bombs. He seemed rather serious after getting into a battle setting.

“You got y’self an explosive weapon there, mate,” He looked at your gun as you rolled your eyes at his pun. It was a bit smaller than Morrison’s but fired the same. “We’ll make a great team!”

You smiled at his energy. You didn’t think someone would take you under their wing so quickly. You nodded to him as you heard the countdown begin.

Rather than sticking by Junkrat’s side as he suggested, you found yourself practically glued to Reinhardt’s side, finding comfort in being behind his shield. He teased you about it and would continuously make comments about how fearless you should be, as he was in his youth. Your team was doing fairly well, considering the objective was only contested two times.

Time was running out and the other team began gaining on yours. Reinhardt’s shield kept breaking and Lucio was attacking more than healing. You found yourself hiding around a corner alone until you heard the familiar uneven footsteps of Junkrat.

“Ah, love! Whaddaya doin’ over here? I thought they blew you up…” He was panting and covered in more soot than before. You looked at him, almost terrified. “You know it’s not legitimate ammo, right? We’re training. It’s just a really painful paintball game!” He chuckled, showing you his side that was covered in streaks of blue paint and bruises. You felt a great weight lifted off of your shoulders, as you reloaded. “Now, don’t go runnin’ out there like a dummy, you’ll… blow it!” You shot him a look that told him to cut the puns, but he brushed it off and urged you to follow him with a sly grin on his face.

“The others are gaining on us bad, _____,” Junkrat hummed, a metal finger tapping his chin. “Nothing’s gone explodey.”

“I don’t know how to get them off of there!” You hissed, thinking he meant for you to fix the problem and knowing that this was no time for his puns.

“But I do!” His sing-song voice certainly concerned you as he grabbed the tire from his back and set it on its side. “Get ready for a shock…”

You watched in amazement as he pulled a chain from the tire, sending it flying from the balcony-like area you two were on, just barely hidden from the other team. It quickly exploded, covering Morrison, Roadhog, D. Va and McCree in red paint.

You looked over at Junkrat, your jaw hanging open. “Oh – oh my god,” You started giggling. “That was AWESOME!” You shouted, bursting into laughter. You fell onto your ass and held your sides; seeing the oh-so-serious Morrison yelling angrily at the final move of the junker was too much. Junkrat’s eyes lit up from your compliment and excitement, and he joined in with the laughter as you two jumped down.

Junkrat approached Roadhog with you beside him and caution thrown through the window. “Hey big guy, how’s about a hug from – ACK!” Roadhog grabbed both of you, smearing red paint all over the front of both of you. More laughter ensued as the others began to walk back to the base, shaking their heads.

The three of you walked back together as Junkrat shared his experience with his friend.

“Oh, and Roadie, the – the look on that cheeky bastard’s face! Ha! I knocked that stupid hat right off his head, didn’t I, _____?” You nodded with laughter still making its way through your curled lips. Junkrat didn’t seem to be as bad as his first impression may have implied. He just liked to have a good laugh, it seemed.

After you got cleaned up, you were out your door and headed to dinner when a robotic arm was slung over your shoulders. “I really gotta say, you still did pretty good for your first session,” Junkrat wiggled his brows at you.

“I’ll get better,” You laughed, swatting his arm away.

“I really mean it!”

“I’m sure you do.”

A smug grin was on your face the whole time he tried to give you a compliment.

“Y’know, _____, I’m just tryin’ to tell you how well y’did out there,” He pouted as you two made your way to the table, Roadhog already well into his meal. “Wasn’t she great, Roadie?!” Even the silent man gave you a thumbs up.

“Well,” You started nonchalantly, ready to return a compliment in a way that only he could appreciate. “I might have been good, but… you, Junkrat… were the bomb.”

And not the biggest explosion could compare to how much his face lit up the moment the shitty pun left your lips.

He exchanged wide-eyed glances between you and Roadhog, his almost unhinged jaw curling into that goofy smile. He bounced in his seat like a child restlessly awaiting to open a gift. “You – You really mean that, darl’?” He waited for your comfirmation.

“Yeah, you really blew away the competition,” You added. He hunched over and laughed so hard you thought he was going to fall onto the floor. Roadhog chuckled at the interactions between the two of you. “Too much?” You giggled.

Junkrat straightened himself up, wiping a tear from his eye. “No, no, that’s perfect,” He replied, slinging his arm around you again as his laughter settled.

While you all finished up dinner, Junkrat was finding every excuse in the book to have some kind of physical contact with you. Lightly punching your arm, to pointing at something on you, you name it. You couldn’t help but feel comfortable around him, and Roadhog as well.

As you got up to leave, Roadhog whispered something to Junkrat and promptly left, leaving you and the lanky blonde behind. “So, eh… I’ll walk you to y’room?” He suggested. You hesitated, but agreed, jokingly putting your arm around his when he offered it. You feel that Morrison had the wrong idea about the adorable dork.

You made it to your room and you opened the door, Junkrat mindlessly following you in when you left a lingering touch on his arm. You turned to close the door and came face to face with him. “H-Hey there,” You chuckled, stepping back a bit. He laughed nervously and took a step back as well, putting his head down as if to apologize.

“Well, ah… I’ll be going,” He pointed to the door behind him. He turned on his heel and grabbed the door knob.

“Hey, Junkrat?” You started.

“Yes?” He turned around almost too quickly.

You opened your mouth to say something, but got trapped by his deep, amber eyes. “Oh, I – Thanks. Thanks for helping me. I really appreciate it,” You took a step towards him, butterflies and bravery filling your chest. “I got more scared than nervous.” You admitted, your face feeling flushed.

“Me too,” He mumbled, just loud enough for you to hear. He jumped a bit as if he didn’t expect for those words to leave his mouth.

“Why would you have been nervous?” You smiled, unsure of what either of you were going to do next.

“You’re quite the bombshell y’self, _____,” He grinned. You giggled at his compliment but quickly stopped, not realizing how close you two were. You looked up at him, your face only a few inches from his. You felt his metal hand brush against yours, and you cautiously reached your hand to hold it, using that as a chance to move a little closer.

You looked down from his eyes and muttered an apology, pulling your hand away from his as your courage faded. “I’m sorry if this is weird, I know we just met, and…” Your voice trailed off when he grabbed your hand again, this time intertwining his fingers with yours. He gazed into your eyes as you looked back up at him, almost hypnotized by the warmth they provided.

It seemed like forever had passed, leaving you two alone with only the sounds of quiet breathing to fill the silence. You leaned in ever so slowly, feeling the heat radiating from his body. He dipped his head down and gently pressed his chapped lips against yours. It was chaste, to your surprise; you hadn’t expected such intimate behavior from the same man who is normally robust and yelling around about explosions and puns. Your lips parted slightly as he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours.

“I didn’t make you uncomfortable, did I?” Junkrat rubbed his thumbs across your hands as he spoke uncharacteristically softly.

“Not in the slightest,” You mused. Your arms snaked around his sides as you buried your face into the crook of his neck. “Makes for an interesting first day if anything.” You smirk against his freckled skin as a laugh rumbled through his chest.

“Whaddaya say we hang out sometime, then?” Junkrat stepped back, still holding one of your hands. “I think I might like you or somethin’,” A contagious grin made its way onto his face.

“I’d say that’s a bomb-ass idea.”

[golddaggers]

chemistry // part three

pairings: teacher!dylan o'brien x student!reader.

warnings: cursing.

a/n: took me long enough, but it’s out! I really hope you’re enjoying this series as much as I’m enjoying writing it.

word count: 3,6k+

part one - part two

Keeping a secret was never really a big deal to me until I was forced to hold a big, hot potato inside my mouth. Well, not really, it was a pretty crappy metaphor, but the thing was: not telling anyone I had recently made out with my hot chemistry teacher was driving me nuts. I wanted to scream at every popular cheerleader who had picked on me: suck it up, bitches, I scored your dream guy.

Oh, no, that’s lame. I honestly think somebody should charge me in for being a horrible teenager. Fuck, it was all so overwhelming! Plus, keeping it from Karen was suffocating me. We had known each other for over seven years now and in that entire time we told each other everything. Literally everything. From our first period to the excruciatingly graphic details of our virginity loss, which, may I tell you, was definitely not pretty. I needed to vent with her, on the other hand, I could also hear Mr. O'Brien’s words echoing in my mind; I couldn’t put his job on the line because some urge to gossip.

Huffing, I started drawing random figures on the corner of a paper I had over my desk. My English teacher, Mrs. Donaldson, who happened to be an adorable old lady and actually one of my favourite teachers, handed to my class a sheet filled with tips on how to write a good narrative essay. She wanted us to, at least, start a brief story as well; it would be our second exam in the semester. Therefore, everyone was busy trying to come up with ideas, while I, uh, was stuck. To say the minimum.

Normally, I’d be all over the place to do it, because I actually loved writing, but today I simply couldn’t bring myself to do it. My head was too lost in thoughts about last night’s events to focus enough on the blue lines in front of me. Shit, never in my life I wanted to yell so much.

“Miss Smith?” The old woman whispered, her tiny hand touching my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, hello, Mrs. Donaldson.” I shot her an embarrassed smile, biting my bottom lip afterwards. “Everything is fine, I guess, I’m just worried with some personal stuff. I’m going to start this soon, I promise.”

“You poor thing…” She shook her hand, squeezing my upper arm tenderly. “Do you want to wash your face, maybe? Or drink some water? You look a bit sick.”

“It isn’t necessary, I’m-”

“Sh, kid, just go. It’s only ten minutes for this class to be over.” Her eyes rolled as she waved her at me, dismissing my plea. Man, people really should stop interrupting me. It very, no, deeply, annoying. “Just make sure you hand me this done on the deadline, okay?”

Uh, considering I desperately wanted to go out for a little bit of fresh air, she didn’t need to push me so much to leave, so I agreed without thinking twice, slipping out of the classroom quickly and heading to the ladies restroom nearby. As soon as I got inside the quiet place, I understood why Mrs. Donaldson had said I looked sick: my skin was few times lighter, giving me a sour-milk-like appearance.

Inhaling deeply, I turned on the faucet, allowing the water to run through my fingers for a few seconds before actually washing my face with the cool liquid. Whilst doing so, I began to think about my latter actions and I still had no idea why this was bothering me so much. I mean, it was only one kiss. One good kiss. Hell, Dylan was a great kisser. Just amazing, those lips… Okay, focus. The point is: what would happen now? Just back on our regular student/teacher relationship or something else? Fuck, fuck, fuck! I had never felt more lost.

Switching the water off, I dried my hands and face with some towel tissues, firmly deciding I should talk to Mr. O'Brien soon. Things needed to cleared up for me, otherwise a spot at the local hospital’s psychiatric ward would be waiting for me.

“I just don’t get it, Brittany… Why doesn’t he notice me?” Briannah’s voice echoed on the corridor outside, which made me suddenly panic and hide within one of the small cubicles, going up on the toilet so that they wouldn’t see my feet. “I am attractive and successful. A real trophy.”

“Of course you are, Bri, Mr. O'Brien is stupid.” Her nonchalant tone almost made me throw up. These girls were unbelievable.”That’s the only explanation to why he hasn’t noticed you.”

“Unfortunately, it’s not. He’s smitten with that Smith weirdo. I caught him staring at her, like, a thousand times now.” My breath hitched on my throat, eyes growing wide to her last sentence. “Urgh, men are so strange.”

“Agreed.”

“But I never give up on a challenge, I’m still going to make him mine. Whatever it takes. Now come, we don’t want to be late for his class, do we?”

A few high pitched laughs could be heard fading away, a door slamming shut soon afterwards. I slided down to the floor, not sure to what to do with this information; not the part where Mr. O'Brien checked on me, after last night, I was sure I did catch his attention, or he wouldn’t have kissed me, but the ‘whatever it takes’? It’s so creepy and sounds so much like a soap opera thing. Jesus.

Nonetheless, although I wanted to, I couldn’t stay hidden in a restroom any longer. I had classes to attend. His in particular.

“Okay, Y/N, suck it up.” I murmured, getting back on my feet and unwrinkling my white shirt. “You need to be a woman about this, alright? Alright.”

I walked outside, chin up in the air, and went to the English classroom to pick up my stuff, pacing myself for the next forty-five minutes staring at Dylan’s cute tush, cute lips, cute everything. By this point, my hormones were laughing at my face, giving a rat’s ass about what was right. As if they were alive to care.

Oh yes, I’m definitely getting a spot at the psychiatric ward.

“So, can anyone tell me, based on the current graphic, if this reaction is endothermic or exothermic?” Dylan pointed out, his, now that I have come to notice, long, slim index finger pressing the board where a perfect graphic was drawn. “No need to be shy class.”

“Come on, Smith.” Karen whispered, pinching my thigh, erupting a low ‘outch’ to crawl out of my lips, which, in a matter of seconds, earned to myself the teacher’s attention. “Y/N here knows the answer.”

“Oh, she does?”

Chewing my bottom lip, I finally allowed myself to look at him, finding his eyes pierced on me, the irises of a liquid honey. A small smirk pulled the corners of his mouth up, so adorably cute, I couldn’t help but mirror his expression, nearly forgetting we were at a class crowded with people.

“So…?”

“It’s endothermic, Mr. O'Brien.”

“Can you say why?”

“Uh, looking at the graphic, you can see that the enthalpy grows as the reaction progresses, which means it’s absorbing energy while reacting. That classifies it as endothermic.”

“Perfect, that’s exactly it.” A delighted hum fell from his lips whilst he turned his back and wrote the classification above the draw. “As miss Smith correctly stated, an endothermic reaction absorbs energy, in most cases heat, from the environment. It’s not spontaneous, like an exothermic reaction, it has to be provoked…”

So he proceeded on his explanation, eyes sparkling with excitement. It was incredibly adorable, to me at least, the way he loved his profession so much. But I haven’t been the best judge lately. Not when he was involved, anyway. I guess our kiss worked like a catalyst that triggered the crush I had long forgotten back on. Tell me about an exothermic reaction.

Fine, no more chemistry puns. No one needs those, plus I’m the only who finds them amusing; wait, maybe if I told them to Dylan he would think it’s a funny trait of my personality. Or probably that he made the terrible mistake of being with a crazy girl.

My own thoughts made me chuckle while I copied the informations O'Brien had already put on the blackboard. He wasn’t exactly a writing person, but each topic the man considered important for our exam, and personal learning as well, was perfectly listed there. This organisation was perfect for later studies.

“Psht.” My best friend muttered, her shoulder lightly brushing mine. “What is up with you?”

“This is the fourth time today I tell you there’s nothing wrong. I also texted you three times saying I was good. Why do you keep insisting?”

“First things first, you never told how your ‘class’ went.” She said, rolling her eyes and glancing over her shoulder to see if no one was paying attention to our small conversation. “Second, Mr. McHottie-”

“Don’t call him that!”

“Mr. McHottie hasn’t taken his eyes off of you today. What is up with that?”

“Shut up!” I exclaimed, lowly, my eyes narrowed whilst I shook my head. The brown haired girl solely sighed, her green eyes seeming bored. “Look, I told you nothing happened. Plus, if people hear you talking that-”

“I don’t fucking care, Y/N!”

“Is there are problem, miss Smith and miss Williams?” Dylan queried, ceasing his extensive monologue due to mine and Karen’s angry whispers.

“No, Mr. O'Brien.” Karen denied, straightening herself back on her place. “We’re fine, aren’t we, Y/N?”

In an attempt of keeping myself together, so I wouldn’t fight with her in front of everyone for a silly reason, I took a deep breath and nodded. I knew Karen was upset with the way I was acting in the past two days; to be honest, I didn’t fully comprehended what the hell was going on with me, nonetheless, she needn’t to act like a child about it.

However, before I had even time to, I don’t know, write her a note or something, saying I would explain things later, the bell rang, announcing the end of the class. She gazed over her shoulder at the door one last time, her eyes soaked in upsetness.

Fuck.

I shoved my books back into my blue backpack with an angry huff, placing the right handle on my shoulder.

“Miss Smith? Could you wait a little bit? I want to speak with you.” Spinning on my heel to face him, my eyebrows knitted together, I shot him a confused glance, not knowing why he was asking me to “talk” when a couple of geek girls were still inside the room. “It’s about your grade.”

“Oh, oh, yeah. I totally meant to talk to you about it too.”

O'Brien placed his warm palm against my back, leading me, who was formerly standing next to the exit, towards his desk. Oh God. I knew it was innocent, believe me, I did, but I just couldn’t help the rough wave of electrical shocks that hit me when his hand tenderly pressed my upper back.

He, then, near his stuff, began fumbling through his papers, also leaning in to search on his drawers too; however, if I’m allowed to make a side note, I was damn sure I had the very exam he mentioned carefully stored home inside a file on the back of my school compartment, which means this was some lame excuse for us to talk in private. Smooth, Dylan, just smooth.

I put my hands on my waist, allowing a soft sigh to crawl out my lips, gazing back to find that Angela, a sweet brown eyed girl with glasses and a high ponytail, was closing her notebook and placing it within her greyish backpack. The other one, her friend, Marcia, was positioned by the exit, waiting to go.

“Okay, all set. Bye, Mr. O'Brien. Smith.” She mumbled awkwardly, trudging to the threshold where the blonde teenager awaited for her.

“Bye.” We both replied, waving goodbye.

The second the tall wooden door was slammed shut, Dylan ceased looking for my “wrong” test. Instead, he walked up to me, opening a space between me and his table. For a moment, I got lost on his whiskey coloured eyes, this time filled with doubt. I knew it must have been just as conflictuous to him as it was for me.

“We should-”

“Yes, but not in here.” He said, shaking his head. “It isn’t safe.”

“Then where?”

“Uh, I’d offer my place.” Under those words, I felt myself grow numb and my heart skipped a beat. “Yet, I don’t think it is suitable. Just… Just meet me at this bar later, at eight.”

“I can’t go out tonight, my mum wouldn’t let me.” O'Brien frowned, his forehead wrinkled in exasperation. “Oh what the hell, I’ll figure out some excuse. Just write the address and I’ll be there.”

“Are you okay with this?”

“Of course I am, we need to talk about what happened and if can’t be here, it has to be somewhere else. I don’t really care.”

“Okay, I’ll just write in here and, uh, I’ll be waiting for you there.”

“Fine.”

Convincing my mother to let me go out at night was the hardest thing I have done in my life, however, I managed to succeed at it, promising I would behave and not get into trouble. The rule she established was that I should be home before midnight; what wouldn’t exactly be a problem, because I didn’t think the talk was going to last long. He was probably going to say that it had been a mistake, that we shouldn’t do it again, then I’d be back home. Yes.

Nevertheless, the fact I was most likely getting rejected by O'Brien, despite knowing the undeniable spark we had between us, didn’t stop me from picking up the nicest dress I had in my closet. Well, it was nothing fancy, just a tight black dress with a considerable cleavage on the front that would get his eyes glued to the exposed area of my chest. A girl can try to be sexy, right?

A laugh fell from my mouth as I finished applying the last layer of red lipstick. Giving myself a small wink, I went downstairs, heading out where an Uber was already waiting for me. I quickly got inside, finding a sympathetic looking old man behind the steering wheel.

“Where are you going, miss?”

“It’s a small place downtown called ‘Rojo’ or something like that.”

“Oh.” His forehead wrinkled whilst he scratched his beard. “I know where it is. It’s a bar… Are you sure you’re not too young to be going there?”

“Uh, I think it’s none of your business.” Shaking my head, I fastened my seatbelt. “Now could you please drop me off there?”

“As you wish, young lady.”

The next twenty minutes were painfully slow and quiet; the driver was probably pissed at the way I responded him, not that I cared anyway. If there was something I hated, it was people invading my personal space. Like, he had no business on what I would do at that bar. Ok, I perhaps shouldn’t have come off so strong, the poor man was just being nice to me…

Oh bite me, as if I hadn’t enough to worry about already.

Trying to keep those thoughts away, I shook my head, inhaling a good deep breath and watching the trees pass by me in a blur. Once more, possibly the nth time today, my mind flew back to last night’s kiss. To be honest, I was still in awe, the silky touch of his lips pressed onto mine, his grip on my waist, his hands bringing us closer… Shit, that brown haired, mole speckled man was purely intoxicating. Like a very addictive drug flooding my blood, providing me with a overdose of serotonin.

And I should definitely dim down on the cheesy stuff, because, man, it feels weird. I was getting too excited. What the hell was going on with me?

“Girl, we’ve arrived your destination.” The Uber drive muttered, glancing over his shoulder. “That will cost $20.”

“Thank you.” I mumbled, handing him a twenty dollar bill and quickly walking out of his car, watching the poorly lit place I was currently about to enter whilst hearing the tires screeching as the driver sped out.

“Okay, now I totally see what his point was.”, I thought, gripping my small purse strongly and heading towards the small bar. At a first glance, you would think this was a haunted house due to the entrance aspects, however, once inside, the pub was actually pretty cosy. A light jazz music was playing in the background, small booths perfectly arranged… I could risk myself saying it was a tad romantic. Plus, it was the kind of place no one I knew would visit, which was probably the reason why Dylan chose it.

Speaking of the devil, he was here already, sitting carelessly at a table in the back. Hell, he was looking good. His chestnut brown hair was tousled, beard carefully trimmed, framing those pink lips of his in a way they shouldn’t, a thin grey shirt tight around his muscles… Fuck, I wanted nothing more than to jump onto him and scatter kisses on all of him. Savouring that minted flavour once more.

I clamped my bottom lip between my teeth, trying to contain the sudden rush of adrenaline that ran across my form. He didn’t have to know how his mere presence affected me so much. God he made me feel like a fifteen year old finding out about boys.

“I thought you weren’t coming.” O'Brien muttered, as soon as he acknowledged my presence. He, then, sipped at a white liquid from a glass that was on his table, eyes still gazing down to the cup. “I’m surprised you did.”

“We needed to talk.” I shrugged, taking a seat in front of him. “Plus I never back away from the things I say.”

“Yes, I wouldn’t expect less from you.” His honey irises eventually risen to face me, incredibly hardened this time. “You’re such a mature person, Y/N, I guess it was why I forgotten you are my student last night.”

“Mr.-”

“No formalities, please.” He rolled his eyes, excusing me with a wave. “We can excuse them for a moment, just let me talk, alright?”

“Fine, Dylan, go ahead.”

“First I want to apologise for what I did, I shouldn’t have put you in this position.”

“Excuse me? Are you honestly apologising for kissing me?” This time it was my turn to act annoyed, my hand unconsciously landing over his while I huffed. “I really, really, enjoyed it. Also, it isn’t like you have forced me into it anyway. I kissed you just as much as you kissed me.”

“Yes, but I am the adult. I should know better than letting my impulses get the best of me. I feel like I-I corrupted you or something.”

“Of course you didn’t, that’s silly. I’m seventeen, not five years old.” A small giggle fell from my mouth, my thumb still circling the back of his hand. “But, if you feel uncomfortable, then we can pretend it never happened.”

“This isn’t about being comfortable, it’s about doing what’s right. If we were in a different situation, I’d choose to be with you anytime.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Because it could get you in trouble. Both of us.”

“I don’t care. Not when doing what’s wrong feels so right to me.” Our gazes linked, so filled with emotions I felt overwhelmed for a second. His fingers intertwined with mine, causing my heart to beat irregularly; the electrical waves were back too. “Doesn’t it feel good? Please tell me I’m not wrong about this.”

“It feels amazing, Y/N.” Dylan traced a wet line on his bottom lip, squeezing out palms together. “Can I… Just one last time…?”

“Kiss me? Yes, you can. We don’t have think about the consequences now, do we?”

“No, we don’t.”

Without breaking the skin contact, I hushedly moved to sit beside him, crashing my lips onto his the second my butt was pressed against the cushioned booth. He didn’t hesitate either, hands going down to grasp my hips, digits massaging the region at leisure whilst the man hungrily searched for my mouth, tongue slipping in, fighting with mine. Man, he was a good kisser. I had shudders slapping my form whenever he locked my lower lip between his.

I laced my arms around his neck, pulling our bodies closer and deepening the fond action, wishing I could make this moment last forever. However, a minute or two later, the air ran dry, making us pull away, noses still brushing one another, eyes still connected, foreheads still glued. Everything fit perfectly, like it was meant to be, no matter what the external rules were.

“Oh fuck…” The whiskey coloured eye man whispered, breathlessly. “I fantasized about this a hundred times. I knew it was wrong but I wanted it anyway.”

“You said if we were in a different position, you’d choose me. So… Let’s pretend you’re not Mr. O'Brien and I’m not Miss Smith. We’re Dylan and Y/N, two people who happen to fancy each other. ” Leaning forward I, stole a peck from his perfectly shaped lips. A chuckle escaped afterwards. “What do you say?”

“Yes. I think I can do that. We just have to be Mr. O'Brien and Miss Smith at school.” Dylan dragged his mouth across my face, scattering feather light kisses on my cheek, erupting goosebumps all over my body. “Now what do you say we kiss one more time? For luck.”

“Uh-huh. Anything you want.”

While I surrendered to his gentle touch, I couldn’t help but think that he was everything I never realised I wanted before. And now that I did, I sure as hell wouldn’t let him slip away from my fingertips.