#you may be wondering why i would make a super bright summer collection at the beginning of winter

[graysongraysoff]

I got inspired by seeing everyone else's showrooms on here but I spent too many points making a collection and didn't save enough to get a matching wall and floor 😅

[glacialltz]

hello! your writing is super good, so i was wondering if you could write some headcannons about the first years’ ideal first dates. i hope you have a nice day! -🍒

content: fluff

warnings: none

word count: 2.7k

author's note: i really hope you enjoy this, dear 🍒. i tried to write it as sweet as possible, just for you. lots of love went into this particular treat! i hope your day is wonderful as well 🤍

Ace doesn’t want to feel tied down on the first date. He wants to get to know his date, of course, but he doesn’t see the point in some stuffy old meeting where all you do is talk.

Dinner dates are fine and all, but they’re not quite his style. Ace may be a bit flippant when it comes to relationships and tends to figure that if he already likes you enough to want to go out with you in the first place, he doesn’t need to sit down and talk with you about each other for two and a half hours first. Why not just go for it? Who even takes love that seriously at his age anyway, he thinks.

If you are heading out on a date with him, make sure you’re wearing good walking shoes. Ace prefers active dates where you can walk and talk. A likely first option for him would be something akin to running from attraction to attraction on a boardwalk.

On Ace’s ideal date, the sun is shining and the summer is soon approaching. The air doesn’t feel too hot - not just yet - as the world begins to shift from springtime into early summer and the wind still has a cool chill to it. The sky isn’t spotless, but the clouds aren’t drab and grey either. The light is bright, reflecting sharply off of the ocean, and it feels like you’re reliving the days of childhood in which the world seemed to be a technicolor-esc vividness. 

If Ace was to have his way, the two of you would be sampling food from every spot you could find some without getting sick. Your stomachs would feel boundless and your eyes were bigger than any plate out there. Everything from hot dogs and French fries to elephant ears and scones, the two of you were sure to sample them all. 

The sugar would keep the two of you energized as you ran every which way and took in every sight. You’d holler at the kites in the bright blue sky together and he’d wonder if he could get away with snatching a balloon for you.

Excitement running through your veins, the two of you would practically cover every inch of the boardwalk, wanting to see all there is to see. If you got tired, you'd sit together on a bench for a short break and make up stories about the people you saw walking around you and what their lives could possibly be like. Even when resting from the constant motion of the date, Ace finds a way to keep it from being boring.  

It’s not a thought that would frequently cross Ace’s mind, but every now and then he may figure his “ideal date” to be a bit cliché, but he shakes it off thinking it doesn’t really matter. He likes it and as long as the two of you are having fun together, who really cares? The day was amazing and he’d be getting to see you smiling for all of it; what else could he ask for? 

The day would feel long yet not tiring; like a week’s worth of activities rolled into one. It’d be the kind of day you’d only like to have once in a while - only for something special - because it would be tiring and boring if it were to happen too often. A special day that truly suits something as precious as the first date with Ace Trappola. 

Deuce is nervous, to say the least. If you somehow got him to the point where he was asking you out, however, he would be trying to push that nervousness away in favor of enjoying the day with you.

He's still super nervous the whole time though.

Deuce, unlike Ace, treasures the moments in trying to get to know you, even if they come before the actual dates themselves. He tends to freeze up in the face of relationships, so he tends to lean more toward the type of dates that are calmer and he can try to collect his nerves.

While being a bit brash and dense at times, he still enjoys delicate dates, even if the two of you are simply walking through a flower field (possibly arm-in-arm, if you would like).

In fact, he may like that quite a bit. He likes being able to talk with you with minimal distractions around. He doesn't want his attention to be caught by anything else and lead astray, but this may make it a bit harder for him to look you in the eye. He's shifty and blushy but calms down when he sees your pleased gaze as you look at the flowers.

He explodes with red once more if you place a delicate flower crown on the top of his head, however.

The air would be warm as the sun shines, but not still like the dead of summer. The flowers bend and sway in the soft wind as the two of you walk through them. Fear not if you have allergies, as the pollen count remains low so you may enjoy the day with your lover.

Deuce tends to stick more toward the shade of the towering trees around the field and he smiles with glee if you run out into the middle of the sun-kissed flowers. You can draw him out with you with ease, just beacon eagerly to him with a bright smile. He can't resist and will quickly rush out to join you.

After making him the initial crown, please teach him how to make some himself. He'll work at it with an unusual amount of focus, tongue ever so slightly peeking out from the corner of his lips, twisting the flower stems through his fingers. He's eager to work at them, putting himself to it with incredible dedication. He wants to give it to you, after all, and make more in the future, so it would be no good if they didn't live up to the standard he held toward any gifts for you.

You two could have spent hours there together, dwindling the hours away beside the daisies. The sun felt so warm and the atmosphere so pleasant. Deuce was glad he picked you and glad he chose to take you here, as the date was amazing despite its simplicity. The two of you held multiple conversations, sharing details about your lives and answering each other's light-hearted questions. You two were able to grow closer, and you too were glad to have accompanied him to this magical place.

The date would only come to an end as your stomachs growled and it became apparent that the both of you forgot to bring anything to eat. You'd head back sheepishly, cheeks tinted pink, but it wasn't for nothing. You'd grown so much closer and your first date was something truly enjoyable. Please ask him to go on another soon, or at least revisit this beautiful field with him again.

Jack is an earnest boy in everything he does, and this includes his pursuit of you. He set his eye on you and plans on being successful in his courting, both due to his personal feelings toward you and the tradition of his kind.

You're quite the lucky one to be asked out by him, really.

Who wouldn't wish to be with such a kind-hearted, hard-working, fluffy-haired boy?

Jack, too, would enjoy a more quiet, slower-paced date with you, but would be willing to accompany you wherever you'd like. You'd like to go shopping? May he carry your bags for you? Would you like to go to lunch? Do you want to pay or do you want him to? Or would you prefer to split the bill between you both?

Despite not being very picky, he would enjoy simply spending an afternoon with you for his first date. He's not too talkative, and he's definitely not the best at admitting his feelings for you, so he enjoys showing his love for you by doing things for you.

He'd be quite glad to just be let into your sunlight-filled dorm for an afternoon helping you clean up or even just doing homework next to you.

His tail wags happily as the two of you "work" away. Please don't comment on it, thank you. His heart can't handle it and he will deny it fervently as it continues to wag.

He can't help it, he's delighted to be so close to you. You aren't even looking at him but he can't stop looking at you. You're really good-looking, you know that?

You pass simple questions back and forth. Thank goodness you've become so accustomed to his more curt way of speaking. He's eager to learn about you, he really is, but, well, old habits die hard.

When the afternoon begins to draw to a close, Jack will end your day together by escorting you to get dinner. Your lighthearted conversation will continue on over the warm meal, and you can finally see the delight and joy dancing within his eyes. He feels truly blessed to be here spending this time with you, and really really hopes you feel the same way too.

Jack insists on walking you back to your room again, even if you tell him it's no trouble. He's a gentleman in his own way, rough around the edges as it may be, and his concern for your safety extends even this far. Allow him to do so, won't you? It does make him so happy.

He'll bid you a short goodbye and leave you for the day, tail continuing to wag. He had such a pleasant day with you, even if it seemed so simple compared to the dates others may have asked you on. But regardless of if you were doing homework or put him to work helping you clean, he feels so happy to know he possibly helped lift a burden off of your shoulders and would be pleased to do it again anytime.

His shoulders are square and his eyes hardened when he asks you out - there's no way you'd say no. His expression seems even more delighted when he's proven right and you do answer yes.

Despite Sebek's initial confidence, however, he has a slight dilemma when you ask him what it is you'll be doing. He's never done anything like this. Oh no...

Panicking slightly, he lists off the place he finds most relaxing, asking you to join him at the school's botanical garden. Thankfully, you accepted.

He worked hard packing the two of you something to eat for the brunch you agreed upon, meeting you toward the later end of the morning hours. A blanket was laid out for the two of you to sit upon, the basket placed directly in the middle.

Sebek takes pride in the food he prepared for you, even if it's not 5-star quality, as he knows it is leagues better than anything that would have been made if he had let Lilia help him, which the older fae asked to do several times. He was even kind enough to try to prepare you something nice to drink in case you don't enjoy the humidity and warmth of the gardens.

He sits next to you, reading quietly for a while. But his eyes can't focus and he's reread the same page several times now. He isn't quite sure exactly what to talk about, faltering every time he tries to open his mouth to speak.

When you do get him to put down the book and speak to you, please brush off any of the slightly less polite things he may say. He doesn't insult you - oh far be it from so - but he may accidentally insult things like your dorms or a hobby you have. He doesn't mean it, he really doesn't, he's just not yet used to speaking more politely to anyone but Lilia and Malleus.

You get quite the chuckle, however, when Sebek eagerly says something stupid with his whole heart. He tells you something idiotic that Lilia tricked him into believing, and you almost double over in laughter. You have to wipe away quite a few tears from your eyes as you explain to him that it is, in fact, not true.

If you humor him by asking him to share anything about his Young Master, he'd be ecstatic. The next hour, if not longer, will be devoted solely to this topic, and you may wish you had never brought him up, to begin with. Sebek's quite grateful, however, deriving great joy from being asked to share such information with someone who obviously knows nothing about his Master's amazing benevolence and power.

The sun is already high in the sky when the two of you part ways for the day, with Sebek's tough-guy exterior finally cracking long enough for him to blush as he bids you good day. He stiffly thanks you for joining him and expresses excitement for seeing you around school some more. He does end up chickening out of asking when your next date will be, however, which may be for the better. He still needs time to recover his quickly beating heart from the day, even if it doesn't show on his face.

A bit cliché, maybe, but Epel would enjoy teaching you how to apple carve. Well, maybe not that exactly, but he would like to have a date in which he can show you there is more to him than just a pretty face.

He knows everyone chalks him up to his appearance, so chances are you already know there's more beneath the surface if he's even asking you to go on a date with him, to begin with.

The two of you sit shoulder to shoulder as he shows you what to do, hands moving nimbly and expression hardened. He does only the most intricate work, desiring to pull that beautiful awe-struck amazed expression from you.

He tries to teach you what to do, but his explanations are a bit stiff and lacking. Let's hope you are a visual learner, or can at least figure out what to do from watching his hands. He goes a bit slower for you if you ask and compliments any work you do regardless, even if it doesn't compare to his.

Don't compliment Epel's appearance, and instead compliment his handiwork. While he would prefer being called "manly", he's still grateful for every "wow" that slips past your lips and each muttered, "that's so cool".

However, Ace and Deuce aren't the only mischievous first years. Epel persuades you into swiping some treats with him. The more they would cause Vil to fret if he knew, the better. He's so tired of eating things that "benefit his skin" and sometimes just wants to snack, he tells you, arms waving about with his speech.

He talks with his mouth full at times and icing smeared on his lips. His brash tone and frank way of speaking becomes more and more apparent the longer he goes on and on, but he quickly gets embarrassed and sheepish if you point it out. With just a little reassurance, however, he'll perk up again and even offer you a bite out of his own tart.

He's willing to accompany you anywhere you'd like for the rest of the day, however, embarrassed slightly about the day being more focused on the things he wanted to do. If you chose to take him up on his offer, you become privy to more of his sarcastic comments and snide remarks as he follows you about on your daily routine.

However, Epel makes sure not to wear out his welcome and knows when to leave you be for the day. As stellar as the date was (and he really did enjoy it very much), he smartly draws it to a close with a sweet ribbon on top. He bids you goodbye cheerfully despite knowing he has to return to his dorm. Something about you seems to cheer him up, even if the Head and Vice Head of his dorm annoy him. It seems he'll have to ask you out again soon, then.

[the-lady-writes-what]

Walpurgisnacht

Since I saw this name first, I’m writing this with Hizashi Yamada (Present Mic). Walpurgishnacht is the German equivalent of May Day, or in the pagan/Wiccan/witchcraft communities, Beltane, which is on May 1. As you might be able to guess throughout this work, Beltane is a holiday centered around fertility, sensuality, and celebrates the beginning of summer. I probably should have written this way back at the beginning of the month, but my personal philosophy about the “witches’” wheel of the year, AKA Wiccan Wheel of the Year, is that dates are kinda arbitrary and I’m not really bound to follow a calendar invented by a random British dude in the 1950′s. I also wanted to include the full moon as a theme because of today’s super rare “Flower Moon.” But enough rambling, I guess. 

e/c--eye color

Content: outdoor sex, semi-public, cream pie, praise kink, slight voyeurism on reader’s part, drunk sex (but both participants are still able to consent), also the reader isn’t wearing anything under her dress

Beltane

Lá Bealtaine. Calan Mai. Rudemas. May Day. Floralia. Walpurgisnacht.

Call it what you like, but whatever its name, it gathered local witches to a wild field surrounded by a forest made green with newly sprung leaves. Birch, hawthorn, and oak. Pine and rowan. All made up the woods ringing around the field of weeds, daisies, and grass that stood up to mid-calf. A band of fiddles, drums, and pipes played nothing but rowdy tunes as the sun set low beyond the hills and played louder when the moon, the full moon, rose up and took the sun's throne in the sky. A bonfire was set in the middle of the field encircled by rocks painted with symbols of fertility, joy, and whatever the witch desired most for the coming summer. Because of the ruckus humans were making, the woodland creatures, except for the owl, stayed away from the revelry. Attracted by the bright light, moths fluttered in and around and into the dangerous fires and were sometimes consumed by it once they got too close. 

In the shadows, the Maypole stayed erect, bedecked in ribbons of different colors. Green, white, and red were the most popular. Decorating from top to bottom with bells, feathers, leather, and felt bags of herbs and spices, ahem, and phalluses, it was a strange juxtaposition of innocent Christmas colors and pagan heathenry. There was no time to think about Christmas or winter or autumn for that matter. Each and everyone was in the moment, dancing, singing, hopping, jumping over the broom, and kissing one another. 

No kids allowed. There were blankets laid out in the shadows, cooled by the damp earth. While nobody was outright having sex in front of everybody present, there was undoubtedly couples, and at least one group of three, enjoying a heavy make-out secession or heavy petting. The smell of sex and sweat was just as pungent in the air as the wine, smoke, and summer fruits. Your cheeks were warm to the touch, whether from the sights before you or from drinking too much wine, you could not tell. Barefooted, you stood, tapping your foot. You watched dancers go round and round the bonfire in a frenzy. It was like watching an ancient Bacchanal. And there you were without shoes, in a red dress resembling a Greek chiton and a flower crown of ferns, blackberry stems, and primroses. What more, you lacked a couple of other things too, not that you were going to explain to the whole company partying it up in the woods what you weren't wearing underneath that red linen dress. 

So, you stood there awkwardly. Not dancing, not engaging in conversation, not passing kisses to strangers, just observing. You sipped from a golden cup, not real gold, of course, but made to look like it. The wine ran down your throat. It warmed your throat, your cheeks, your head. The wine settled nicely in your full belly after a day of eating on meat, vegetables, stew, and whatever everyone brought to the table. It didn't go straight to your head, though you slowly started to feel the effects after two cups. This, your third, was already halfway gone. You continued to watch everyone else have fun, but for yourself? A swarm of butterflies crippled any chance of introducing yourself. This community, too large to be a coven, was brand new to you and you to them. They knew you about as well you did them. They were strangers one and all, and you'd been tempted to stay at home and hold a private Beltane in your kitchen, attended only by you and your hearth spirits. 

And yet, here you were. Standing off to the side and seemingly content to watch rather than participate, but you were there. That should have counted for something, right? An evil, annoying thought crept into your brain and squatted there. The only reason why no one was paying attention to you was because they were too drunk and absorbed in each other's touches too much care for what you were doing. If they suddenly became sober and stopped making out with each other, then they'd be busy staring at you and wondering why you bothered to come at all. You shivered despite the wine in your system and the waves of heat rolling off the massive bonfire. Your toes curled up in the grass and dirt. 

You turned to find a quiet space to collect your thoughts when your eyes met with someone else's. A pair of emerald-green eyes met your (e/c). The man was tall, lanky, and had golden blonde hair flowing down his shoulders. You saw a drink in his hand, a cup similar to yours, which explained the pinkish glow in his cheeks. You caught his eye from across the field. He handed over his goblet to a dark-haired man with an unshaved face. The man with the green eyes bobbed and weaved his way in between the dancers, narrowly dodging a swinging arm to the face. When he, at last, stood at arm's length from you, he smiled at you. You looked behind you and to either side of you. You pointed your finger at yourself. 

"I noticed you standing off by yourself. My name is Hizashi Yamada." He held out his hand towards you, a silent request for you to take it. 

You took a long swig from your cup and emptied the rest of your wine down your throat. Throwing the cup down, a rush of excitement fogged your mind. You not only reached for his extended hand and took it, you shook his hand vigorously as the alcohol made the blood in your temples throb. Your heart beat like an excited bird in a cage. 

"Y/N. That's my name. Y/N L/N."

"Would you care for a dance?" Hizashi bowed from the waist. His hair cascaded off his shoulders in a golden waterfall. 

You bit your bottom lip. You looked at Hizashi, then at the dancers. The butterflies in your stomach nearly burst out of your belly. Finally, you swallowed hard and answered, "Yes."

Hizashi took you by the hand with a gentle hold and guided you to the band of revelers. He also kept you within touching distance to not lose you or have you fall on your face. It took a couple of songs before you threw yourself into the dance. Energy seemed to stem from the earth beneath your feet and reach up deep inside of you. Sweat beaded down your neck, face, and arms, but all it did was to help you become more comfortable with whatever it was that entered your body. Hizashi helped you slow down when the players switched to a softer melody. You managed not to step on his feet during the next couple of slow dances. How you did it, you wouldn't be able to say, considering how you kept your eyes on him the whole time. 

The butterflies disappeared to but a few. You and Hizashi were staring into each other's eyes even as the band picked up again. Those dancers who hadn't collapsed asleep or paired off and wandered into the woods started again. The two of you, however, stood still among the chaos. The wine had been beaten out with sweat and dancing, but you wondered if it was gone altogether. For it wasn't like you to want to kiss the first stranger you meet at a party. Hizashi wore doeskin leather pants, a flowy white tunic, and a green vest. Both his shirt and vest were opened to give you a good view of his chest. Your eyes fixated on a particular bead of sweat making its way down the plain of his muscled stomach. A treasure trail of blonde hair led to the hem of Hizashi's tight pants. Unconsciously, you licked your lips. 

"Would you like to take a break?" Hizashi asked. 

You swallowed hard, then nodded. "Yes. I could use a break from dancing." You were panting for breath as Hizashi once again took you by the hand. This time, he led you away from the swirling crowd of dancers still going at it even though the night was running short. He guided you past the couples laying out on blankets kissing and snuggling beneath the moon. You craned your neck to see that silver disk rising high in the sky, almost cresting in the middle of the star-strewn blanket of night. Hizashi led you under the outstretched arms of the trees and finally stopped to rest beneath an oak. You both sat at its roots. You could barely see the dancers, musicians, and couples through the trees, but you could still hear them. Crickets and other insects joined the chorus of the party. 

In your revelry, you hadn't noticed how the strap of your dress slid off your shoulder. You thought a moment about pulling it to its correct position, then reconsidered. You leaned against Hizashi. Sitting together, watching everyone else through the brush, you could catch your breath. Away from the crowd and the bonfire, the coolness of the night settled around and on you. You were sobered up by the time you reached for Hizashi's sleeve and gave it a little tug. He turned to you. Your faces were a hairs' breadth apart. Just as you started to lean in for a kiss, another noise caught your attention.

It was two people, a man and a woman. You got up to investigate, and Hizashi followed you. Together, you crept through the woods towards the strange sound. You stepped a little further than the bonfire's light could reach. Your eyes had to adjust to the darkness but then fastened on the small glowing light of a flashlight on the ground. With the flashlight somewhat discarded, the other pair was bathed in moonlight. You hid behind a tree to watch them. 

The man buried himself all the way to the hilt inside of his lover, who clawed at his back. You couldn't see their features, but you could see their bodies writhing against each other. More to the point, you could hear them a little too well. He was grunting as he rutted into her and scraped his lover's back in return against the trunk of the tree. Beneath the swollen moon, the woman howled in pleasure and panted. Warmth spread in your lower belly. You never watched two people fuck before; you never watched porn before. Slick began to pool between your legs. 

Hizashi's hand found its way to your shoulder. You jumped a little at his suddenness, then just as quickly regained yourself. Hizashi pulled himself closer to you until his chest was against your back. His other hand came to your bare shoulder. Hizashi flexed his fingers on your joints and pressed his fingertips into your flesh. He tucked his chin on your shoulder like he was trying to get a better view of the other couple. The wet slaps of skin against skin silenced everything else. It drowned out the far-away music. You stood there watching those to rut and listened to their moans. You didn't stop Hizashi from kissing the side of your neck nor when he pressed his hardness against your backside. 

"It looks like they're having fun." Hizashi chuckled. His laugh rippled along your skin as he pressed his mouth on your neck. 

"Y-Yeah," you said. 

"Wanna join them, sweetness?" He toyed with the strap that hadn't fallen off. 

"Gods, yes," you half moaned. 

Before you could realize it, Hizashi spun you around. He kissed you full on the mouth. He toyed with your tongue and explored the cavern of your mouth until he turned you into a moaning mess. Hizashi slid between your legs, forcing the dress to hike up to your hips. His knee brushed against your clit, making you gasp louder than you intended. Hizashi grazed his hand along your hip as if feeling for something that wasn't there. 

"Oh my. You're shivering pretty little thing. Aren't you wearing anything underneath that flimsy dress?" 

You shook your head. You bit your lip because you were too ashamed of saying such things out loud. You arrived without any underwear at all beneath your dress. Hizashi's arms lowered you to the twig and grass-ladened ground and nudged your opening further with his knee. You gasped again, louder this time even though you saw it coming and could have prepared for it. By the light of the moon, you saw Hizashi's golden brow shoot up, and his mouth bore an impertinent smirk. 

"You naughty little thing!" Hizashi bent down and kissed your neck, and left a fiery trail to your breasts. 

He lay flat against you, almost to the point of smothering you. Hizashi was careful not to do that. His hands ran up and down your torso; his fingers hugged and gripped every curve they could get a hold of. Your nipples pebbled through the linen fabric of your dress. Hizashi pulled down the straps and the front of your clothing to present your heaving chest to him. He kissed, licked, and nibbled on your breasts until you were pretty sure you were going to melt, thanks to his affections. 

"Harder, harder. F-Fuck! Oh god, you make me feel so good. Fuck me harder!" The woman cried out. 

The man grunted loud enough for you to hear. Your fingers knotted into Hizashi's long hair as he suckled on your breast like a newborn. He looked you in the eye after letting go of your nipple with a wet pop. 

"Would you like to continue?" He asked. 

You rubbed your thighs together and found them soaked. The other couple started moaning louder than before. The man was pounding into his woman harder at her request. Hearing them edge towards their climax only made you hungry for your own. 

You nodded and added, "Please."

Hizashi sat on his knees. He ditched his shirt and vest (not that they were doing him a disservice, to begin with). His fingers untied the front of his pants, laced up instead of a modern button and zipper. You watched in awe as his finger flew through the knot and lacing. Unlike you, he wore a pair of black boxers. Hizashi shoved down his pants and boxers together to pull out his long, hard cock. A bead of pre-cum leaked at the blunt head. He grabbed the back of your knees and shoved your legs open. There was little preamble when he slid inside your tight heat. 

"Sweeting, do you feel good?" Hizashi asked with a strained voice. You looked to see his face scrunched up as if in pain. It must be taking everything for him not to savagely rut into you. 

"So good," you whimpered, but it was a pleasing noise. You never felt so full. 

"I'll be moving, okay?"

"Okay."

Your single word was all Hizashi needed. He held the back of your knees still as he pulled halfway out then pushed back into your cunt. Your panting returned as soon Hizashi moved in earnest. Each thrust of his hips earned him a moan or a whimper from you. The sound of you fucking joined with the other couple's. 

"That feels good, doesn't it?" Hizashi 

"Y-Yes!"

"G-Good, good. You feel good to me too. You're so wet. Can you hear yourself? How naughty you sound down here?"

A wave of heat passed over your face. Hizashi was right. You were overflowing down there, and each thrust of his just accentuated the sound. You wrapped your legs around his waist. Hizashi's hands landed on either side of your head to grasp at the dirt. He fucked you faster and faster. Both of your bodies were quivering of each impact. Hizashi was reaching deep inside of you. The couple just beyond the trees hadn't stopped either. Four wanton people were fucking their respective partner's brains out, and nobody was disturbed by the fact. You clenched around Hizashi's cock, pounding away at you.

"Damn, girlie. Does being fucked into the forest floor get you hot and bothered?" Hizashi husked next to your ear. "Or is it the fact that you got all excited after watching another couple getting it on?"

Your only reply was dragging your nails down his back while he continued pounding your cunt. Your back ached because of a twig rubbing against your spine, but that was the least of your concerns. Hizashi leaned back on his haunches, grabbed your hips, and fucked you harder. The new angle reached inside of you deeper than before. His cock found your G-spot. The moment Hizashi hit it, you screamed all the more. Beyond the trees, the other couple responded with a few grunts and cries of their own in reply. Hizashi smirked at knowing where the special button was. With that knowledge, it was easy to hit it over and over again to make you scream again for him. 

You felt Hizashi's eyes trail up your body from where you were connected to him. He placed a palm over where he was currently buried, inside your warm cunt. You were sucking him in and gripping him tight with your walls. His fingers trailed over the bunched-up linen fabric of your dress and plucked your nipple. Your breasts bounced with each thrust of his and kept his attention for a moment. Hizashi watched them bounce with every rock of his hips between your legs. You were getting tighter, and he was so close himself. He could explode right then and there, but he wanted to see you come undone first. He had been wondering since the moment he laid eyes on you what you looked like in complete ecstasy. 

Hizashi moved his hand back down and flicked your clit. His eyes searched your face. Your eyes were made glassy; he flicked it again. You knocked your head into the ground, moving it side to side. Hizashi kept fucking you and moved his fingers along your clit. 

"Yeah, yeah. You're going to come soon. Fuck, babe, let see your pretty face when you come. Let me look you in the eye as you come," said Hizashi. He thrust deeper, faster, and harder into you and moved his fingers at the same pace against your clit. 

"That's it! Fuck, fuck, fuck, I'm coming!" The other woman shouted. The man came with a loud, animalistic grunt, which caused his woman to howl in return. Her cries died off into whimpers that you could still hear. 

"Fuck, baby, there's so much," the woman whined. 

"And don't waste a fucking drop of it either," said he.

The image of cum dripping down your cunt was more than enough to yank you off the edge. Your back arched like a bow. You dragged your nails down Hizashi's back, only this time drawing blood. Hizashi shuddered as you clawed at him like a cat in heat. The sting made his eyes screw tight. He let out a hiss, then he grunted. Without warning, he was spilling all over your insides. His pulsing cock was entirely inside your cunt when Hizashi painted your walls white. You had another orgasm, albeit a smaller one. Arms wrapped around each other as Hizashi flopped down on top of you, unable to pull out and roll over. He was stuck. 

There were giggles and rustling leaves. Footsteps approached, but you both were too exhausted to care about who saw you and how you might have looked. Whoever they were, they quickly moved along without saying anything about you or to you. After a while, Hizashi finally regained enough strength to pull out. Luckily, he carried a handkerchief in his pocket. It came in handy when it came time to clean up the mess he made between your thighs. You thanked him and offered a bashful smile. Hizashi helped pull you to your feet, and you walked back to the celebration hand in hand. 

The bonfire continued to burn until dawning. When the first morning light began to shine, announcing the first day of the new summer season, you found out that you and Hizashi, as well as that other couple weren't the only ones to have taken advantage of Walpurgisnacht's sensual energy. A bit of slick down your thigh that Hizashi missed when you finally parted and made your way to your car. As you put on something a bit more decent than a linen dress, you couldn't help but wait until the next sabbat to see Hizashi again.

[treasurestation]

Jihoon is more than just your best friend's older brother —

You & Jihoon through the years.

Age 6 —

Your knees ground into the sandlot, fingers digging into the grit of the sand. Palms cup, it feels like like velvet on your skin, delicious and empty. You pour it into a bucket, letting it overflow before patting it down gently.

You shift, knees harshly rubbing on the sand. Stinging on your kneecaps.

“I don't really like sand,” A voice says, strange. You don't turn, a swift nod of your head and it continues. Still strange, she tells you, stumbling over words, “I like snow, um, it feels cool, I– I like the cold, I like how it looks too! Bright and um, –”

You tilt your head to the side, shyly. Palms moving over your thighs, sweat forming at the top of your brow, “I, I like snow too,” It's quiet after you tell her that. It's quiet, long enough for you to burn up under the sunlight, stiffen on your legs. Then the crunch of shoes above sand, she kneels in front of you.

A smile, “Really? That's super cool!”

She gestures towards the pail, her hand opened. You nod, uneased. She turns the pail over, her open palm patting at the bottom of it. She looks to you again, smiling even brighter. Her hands move to the rounded sides, lifting up.

The sand stands, before it plummets. Crumbling. Crusty and dry.

It makes you laugh, the way her bottom lip juts out. It's childish, your eyes crinkle. And she's smiling again, but this time you're smiling too, “Maybe we need some water, this–” Her hands gesture to the crumbled sand, “is far too dry,”

You nod, moving to stand. Dusting the sand off of your knees. You stretch your hand out, opened, inviting. It's hopeful.

“I'm [named],” Timid, your pull away quick, eyes searching her face. She smiles, “I'm Youngji,” She holds out her hand, “Want to see my sticker collection? It's pretty cool! I bet, you'd like it!”

You take her palm, your skin sticks to hers.

She's smiling, it makes you wonder if her cheeks are sore. But it makes you smile too. “I just started today, it's real hard making friends, but then!” She holds up one finger, her grip on your hand tightening, “I talked to you! We can be friends now, right? I hope so! I like making friends, we're friends now. I think, I hope?” Her voice is louder now, more confident, more boyant.

You nod, cheeks reddening. You squeeze her hand, “we can be friends...”

Wind blows, and she stares at you, eyes bright. “We'll be the bestest friends!” Your heart swells, it fills. Overflowing, you nod, eyes turning, lips pulling. The bestest friends.

—

It's late, after school. The setting sun shines in through the windows of the entrance. Youngji sits beside you, showing you her collection of stickers. Doraemon, and it makes you feel small beside her, when she shows you her newest addition to her collection.

“Um... My momma doesn't have enough for that one yet,” or the other ones too. You tell her, Youngji nods, comfort in her shoulder when she presses into yours. “It's okay, I save up, I try too at least– money goes fast! Especially for those things,” you smile, head tilting curiously, you point to one of the bigger stickers, “did you buy this on your own?” she shakes her head, looking to you, “um... Well, my brother brought it, but he gave it to me, I wanted to buy it on my own but he said I could have it!” You smile, nodding along.

The entrance door opens, cracking slightly. You and Youngji look, heads turning. “Hey,” She says, her voice getting bored at the sight of a boy. “[name]... this is Jihoon, Jihoon... Is, well, he's a boy who lives in my house, we're not related, I swear!” Youngji is gathering her things, her sticker collection and summer hat, putting them in her backpack gently. “Ok. So tomorrow, you'll wait for me right? By the gates? Or would you rather–” Jihoon's voice cuts hers off, “Mom's waiting,” she grunts, “Um. I was talking.” She looks to him, her eyes rolling.

Your face reddens. Hands tightening at the hem of your shirt, you stare at the slope of his nose. “I– I– I– um...” You stutter. “[name], we don't talk to boys, remember?” Youngji is sighing, “boys don't have Doraemon stickers like me,” Jihoon smiles, it's forced. It makes your stomach drop. “I– hi... Um... I'm– my name is, [name],” His eyes turn to Youngji, leaving you.

“Wait for me, tomorrow, OK? I'll wear this hat again so you can see me OK? Oh, and I'll bring us lunch, cool?” You turn to her, cheeks reddening even more. She'll pointing to her hat, bright yellow. “L– lunch? Okay! I'll, um, wait!” She already walking away, her body still turned to you as she walks backward. “Bye, my best friend.” Jihoon waves, and then they're gone.

Suddenly you can breathe. Like you were holding your breath. Jihoon Jihoon Jihoon — his name repeats itself in your head, and you think, is this what love is?

—

Your mom is cutting sweet potatoes at the table when you ask her.

“Momma,” Her hum is soft, like the rain that patters at the window that evening. You sit across from her, the wooden chair creaking when you sit on it. “Um...” Your forefingers press together, you fidget. “What is, what is love? You know, like real love...” It's quiet for a moment, before she laughs, asking, “May I ask why?~” You sigh, shoulders dropping. “Well. I met someone. Today, before you came to get me at school. It was a boy. And it's Youngji's brother. You remember her, right?” She nods, placing her knife on the cutting board. “Of course, you told me about her.” You smile, “I met her brother. And I was just, wondering. What love was, you know?” You become nervous under her stare despite the tenderness in them.

“I... I think love is, complex,” She says, you stop her, growing shy, “momma... I don't know that word yet...” Warmth comes from her when her hand reaches for yours across the table, “Difficult?” You nod, you know that one. “It's, a strong feeling toward someone, I guess.”

“Um. What if... Is it, like not being able to breathe?” Your head is downcast, eyes unable to meet hers. “It can be, baby. Was he breathtaking?” You shake your head quickly, “Wha– I, I don't know! He was... He was weird! Like he, he...”

She laughs, it comes out in shakes. Her body shakes, and it makes you giggle, when she throws her head back, mouth opening. “I don't know, momma.”

“Love is whatever you want it to be baby~” There is teasing in her voice, but her fingers roll over your knuckles, skin moving over bones, and it settles the churn in your gut.

You decide Jihoon is breathtaking that evening at supper.

When your father is fixing your bed, you linger behind him. “Dad, for lunch tomorrow, can you make me something good, and pretty? And can you buy me strawberry milk? Two?” He stills, a smile on his face when he turns. He nods, “Sure thing,” it makes you smile, legs moving closer toward him, “but first, you need to get rest, okay? And lots of it! So, you can be happy and healthy tomorrow,” you nod, head bouncing, kneeling into your bed. Your father moving the blankets to tuck you in.

He presses a kiss to the crown of your head, a shout of your mother's name, and the soft creak of her steps on wood. She's there when your father stands, she kneels. “Dream of me, okay?” You nod, teeth showing. Your gut warms, love growing in your heart, gripping at you. “Obviously,” She presses a kiss to your cheek, your father turns the lights off. Moonlight seeping in through translucent curtains. “Goodnight, my baby~” She stands, moving backwards, stepping into your father's hands.

You dream of Youngji and her brother. The thought of him still lingers.

When your father walks you to school, he tells you about the sky – the rising sun and the infinite blue that swallows everything – you listen, staring at the clouds. “It'll rain today, so I'll bring an umbrella for us, okay? Do you want your raincoat?” He asks, voice warm. “Yes, papa,” He squeezes your hand.

As you near your school, “Um, papa? Can we wait at the entrance? I told a friend I would!”

He stills, “only for a bit...” Then he continues, talking about the sky. When he quiets, you begin talking, about school, about what he talks about, about what your mother talks about. Until arguing grows louder, as well as Youngji's voice.

She sounds annoyed, and she looks hurt when you see her. Her hat is still bright, despite the grim look on her face. Your gut twists when you see her brother trailing after her. She's quick when she sees you. Her pace quickening, and when she's close enough, she grips your arm, “you actually waited, thank goodness! You see what I have to deal with?” Her chin lifts to point at Jihoon.

Your breathe is snatched from you. “I– I didn't know you were coming, I–” you're grip on your father's hand tightens. Youngji gives you a funny look, one that goes unnoticed by you as you stare at her brother. Stop staring! He'll think you're– “Hon, I have to go...” Your father kneels, pulling at your hand. He pats your head when you stare hard at his chest. “Hey, don't look like that, you'll get wrinkles,” his thumb moves over your forehead, the creases in your skin, smoothing over. Skin tightening. “I packed your lunch like you said, and this~” He stands suddenly, arms opening, his hand gone from yours. “Youngji!” She smiles, head bobbing up and down. “Nice to meet you, [name] talkes about you all the time~ now... I really have to go,” He says, exaggerating. “Bye mister!” Youngji's waving, her arm hooking in yours.

You stare after him, feeling small. He turns to wave, and you wave bye.

“He... He's nice,” You say, Youngji hums. Before she sighs, “Bye, Jihoon. Have fun at boring middle school!” She's pulling you away, and you keep turning back to stare at him. Hand lifting up, waving. Eyes settling on the curve of his mouth, it lifts.

Jihoon smiles. And you suddenly can't breathe again. Your heart grips at you.

When lunch rolls again, Youngji is squealing. Loud among chatter. “Youngji...” It's threatening, but not enough to stop her from grabbing your arm and dragging you away.

“So! I don't know what you like... Yet! But I asked my mom to help pack things for us, OK? Yummy things!” She's quick on her feet, shifting through bodies, shoulders colliding. You mumble out apologies, head down, face red.

When you near her locker, she changes her shoes quickly, telling you you'll be eating outside. “It's going to rain today,” You say, eyes catching hers. She nods, “I know, but that's later, like after school later.” Your mouth forms an ‘O’ shape.

“Let's change your shoes now, which locker is yours?” She questions, voice thick with curiousity. You begin walking. It isn't far from hers, five lockers away.

She tells you it might be fate, you insist it's pure luck.

The grass is green, and cherry blossoms bloom in the schoolyard. It's empty despite the warm weather.

Youngji is shrugging her bag off. Unzipping it while she walks. You look for a nice place to sit. Deciding on a bench near a cherry blossom tree. “Great eye!” She compliments, sweet.

When you sit, she places a small container between you both. A pink lid is peeled off, Gyeran mari is sliced neatly, four slices. She places another container, a purple lid is peeled off again, this time with fruits. White peaches and strawberries – cream atop the strawberries.

“I... I wanted it to be pretty! I even helped make it!” She's smiling, all teeth. You nod, smiling back. Brighter.

“I asked my dad to buy us strawberry milk! I'll show you my lunch now,” You tell her, heartbeating faster. You redden, embarrassment washing over you.

You unzip your backpack, pulling a lunch bag out, your hands grabbing a container from it, fingers pulling the lid off before you place it beside hers. An egg over rice. She ‘ooh’s softly, mouth forming an ‘O’ shape. You bag another container, smaller. Apple slices are there. You then grab the strawberry milk from your bag.

“Tada! A dinner between best friends,” She says, brows rising. “Lunch,” You correct, handing her a strawberry milk. A grin smearing on your face.

Her face falls a bit, it stirs something in your gut. Unease settling in your bones.

“Um... Are, are you okay? I know it's not much but–” You begin before being interrupted. She's staring at you – through you, licking her lips before saying, “I've never really had a best friend, I hope we can be best friends forever.” A moment passes.

“Let's... Let's be best friends forever then.” You hold out your pinky, a smile on your face. “Promise?”

Youngji smiles, her teeth showing, she grips your pinky with hers. Holding on tight. “Promise!”

—

Age 10 –

(You follow Youngji to middle school, holding her hand along the way, whispering in her ear – she's still your best friend when you both drift in different directions.)

“Guess whoo~” She says teasingly. Her hands covering your eyes. You giggle, grabbing one of her wrists, “Oh, I don't know. Maybe, Youngji?” You say, pulling her hand away. You twist, turning to face her in your desk. “Wow! So good!” She smiles, teeth and all. Youngji leans against the desk behind you, her knees pressing into the back of your chair.

“So! My parents...” She trails off, sucking in air through her teeth. “You know how I'm always like ‘you're my best friend, yeah yeah’?” You hum, staring at the nervous expression on her face, “Do you... Maybe... I don't know, want to sleep over?” She asks, her eyes brightening up. “You can meet my parents! They're always like, ‘bring her over, come one, Youngji-yah!’” She clasps her hands together, smiling at you.

“Okay. This weekend?” You ask, head tilting.

She nods, she thrusts her fist in the air, a yay leaving her lips. “Oh my god, our first sleepover! What! This has got to be perfect, I'll make it the best sleepover, I promise!” She's leaving the classroom before you can reply, the door sliding open as she rushes away. You smile after her.

(Jihoon makes your heart full. Overripe in your chest. Fresh and plump, fruit hanging in your ribcage, your heart is achingly sweet.

You see him in the halls, face reddening when his mouth lifts, mouth curving. You don't say anything, he doesn't either, but when you catch his stare, you know – his heart is full too.)

She walks home with you on Friday for the first time, Jihoon trailing after you both, a friend of his tucked by his shoulder — they're loud, voices lingering in your ears.

You grip your handle bars too tight, knuckles bone-white.

“You live in the city side? Lucky~ I live by the lake,” She tells you, whining a bit. She stops, suddenly. “Do you want me to carry that?” She asks, pointing to your bike. You shake your head a bit, “No! No! It's okay–” You redden at her stare, now you're all stopped in the middle of an empty street. “Here,” Jihoon's voice says, smooth in the wind.

He's beside you now, eyes turning, mouth curled.

His hands cover yours over the bike handles, you stare at him, seeing him – your heart plummets, you think he knows, and he does, fingers tightening over yours before you pull away, slipping away from under his.

“I– thank... Thank you.” His chin lifts, he nods. He's walking away, his friend trailing after.

It's silent the walk home, but you can't help stare at the back of his head. Your heart is fresh fruit, hanging in your ribcage, Jihoon's hands pulling it open. Fingers wrapping around your heart – he eats, he knows.

“Mom...” You whine. Hands moving all over, you trail after her in a rush, through the kitchen, to the livingroom, to the door. “Please... They're just waiting for me, I will be gone soon, mom!... Hey don't show them that!” She's showing them a photo album, her hands ushering them to follow her, and they do. Smiling at you when they pass you. You groan, your father's hand landing on your shoulder. He tells you, “let her enjoy for a bit, you hardly bring people over,” You nod.

“Oh! Honey! Make tea, or juice? Would you like anything?” Her hands clasp together loudly, she's smiling, her cheeks red. “I... I'll go get my stuff, you, um, you can wait here, okay?” Your head tilts, your stiff when you walk up the stairs. Mumbling about how your mother never acts like that when your father brings friends over.

When you enter your room, you try to be quick. Folding your clothes neatly, and then stuffing them in a bag.

A knock interrupts you, you turn. Eyes widening at Jihoon. “Hey, I don't know where the bathroom is,” He says, eyes staring at anything but you. He's rubbing his neck, “It... It's down the wall, you have to be careful though. The door gets jammed sometimes.” Your hands subsciously pull together, fingers tightening around one another. You smile, nodding.

He looks to you, catching your eye. Smiling too. Then it's gone. He doesn't move, then he opens his mouth, moving then closing. It becomes tense, and he looks pained. Your smile is gone now, taking a step forward, “Are... Are you okay?”

He stares at you, before closing his eyes. Shut tight, “You can't like me,” He says. It's a demand. The room stills. Quiet. Still. Unmoving. He shakes his head, before stalking off. The bathroom door shuts with a thud.

Something stirs in you, “Oh...” You utter, the quiet becoming unbearable. And the stirring in your gut leaves you uneased, you feel your heart drop. You want to sink into the floor.

(You still sleep over at Youngji's house, you pretend you don't notice Jihoon's stares. You pretend he didn't say what he said.)

—

Age 13 –

Jihoon joins the basketball team, and when Valentine's day rolls around. Love notes and chocolates pail up on top of his desk.

(You don't talk to him much; when you stay over at Youngji's house, he leaves. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, ripping your heart and taking it with him – “Love is whatever you want it to be,” you decide whatever love you have for Jihoon isn't love.)

“I wonder if I'll get any Valentines...” Youngji thinks out loud, stopping in front lf you when she gets closer to you at the school gates. “You will, I'll make sure of it,” You say, arm locking with hers. She smiles, fingers tightening on your coat.

“BTW. I heard a rumor~” She teases, finger poking your cheek. You sigh, “I told you not to use abbreviations outside of text, it doesn't sound right to me, I swear I will–” You glare, voice going hard. “It's about you, actually!” Youngji interrupts, her eyes sparkling. “Oh... Is, is it mean? I don't like when people are mean to me, you know I can't handle–” She laughs, ringing throughout the schoolyard. She stops, leaning close to you, her hand covering her and mouth when she whispers to you, “Yongshik from class A has a crush on you~” she pulls away with a grin on her face. You redden. “Like... Oh, um – like as a joke?” You question.

She pulls toward the school doors, a girl holding it open for you both, you mumble a thanks and she says, “thank you so much.”

You have to think about it, because it doesn't feel right. “I don't know who Yongshik though...” You mumble. Youngji smiles pitifully before a genuine one appears. “Hey, listen. You don't have to accept his feelings. It's okay to reject someone,” It sounds sweet, a little unlike her then she adds. “Better to be the rejecter then to be the rejectee!”

You glare at her, “Cute, Youngji.” You say. She quickly says she has to be early for class, she tugs you into her arms, squeezing tightly before she runs off.

You make a beeline for your locker, ignoring the eyes that seem to follow you. When you near it, a boy stands there. His face brightening up at you, hand opening to wave at you. It makes you still, you wave back awkwardly. You walk slower, until you stand in front of him.

He smiles, and something about his smile makes you feel uneased, like he can see you, through you, like Jihoon – but not really. Jihoon's eyes are starbursts, shining. Glowing. Vast – “Hello, I– I have something to tell you,” He says, and you can feel eyes on your back again. You nod, a feeling of excitement begins to stir in your gut and you don't like it, your heart picks up. He pulls out a letter from the pocket of his uniform jacket, he hands it to you. You make sure to grab the edge of it, avoiding his fingers.

“Thank –” You're interrupted when an arm wraps around your shoulder, tucking you under their side. Your eyes dart to them, and you're surprised it's Jihoon, his smile is different – almost too sweet, sickly sweet. It oozes something you don't recognize.

“Hey, [name], been lookin' everywhere for you,” He says, facing you. You redden under his eyes, mumbling, “I just got here...”

You forget about the boy, and find yourself boiling over, your stomach erupting.

“Um... You'll read it, right?” The boy says, and you jump before nodding quickly, “Of course!” You smile at him and it falls once he leaves, walking to a group of his friends, they clasp their hands on his shoulders.

“Why'd you do that? He might have needed help with homework or something,” You say naively, shrugging his arm off. “Or he could have a crush on you~” He sings softly, going to lean on the locker beside yours. He stares at you, a smile ghosting on his face. “Also, I seriously doubt he'd need help with homework, he's one of the top students.” You ‘ah’ at him, he still stares at you. “Stop staring, it's... It's making me nervous...” You murmur, quiet enough for only him to hear. He leans closer to you, Jihoon smiles, “Nervous, huh? I know I'm too charming,” He teases, brows raising. You glare, but his smile makes you hide yours. He continues, “I get nervous too, when I wall passed a mirror, I always have to stop and stare,” You sigh, face heating up, “Jihoon,” You begin, daringly, “don't get ahead of yourself,” he raises his hands.

The bell rings, shutting your locker, books in your hand, Jihoon takes them from you, “let me walk the reddest girl to class,” it doesn't make sense, but it makes you redden even more. “I, what– wait... Am I really that red?”

(You read the letter from the boy, his name is Yongshik, and he thinks you're smart and pretty and he wants to get to know you – you politely decline, telling him you like someone else. Yongshik's sweet smile is gone when you leave, and he glares at Jihoon.)

Age 14 —

Jihoon's graduation is exactly how he wanted it – quick paced and undemanding. He insists you come –

(You and Jihoon spend more time together than you should have; he tells you we're friends now and yet you can't help but feel like there's something more to your friendship – there is; Jihoon laughs in your ear, quiet, hushed. Only for you to hear. He lets his arm linger over your arm when Youngji runs off to class, leaning too close to you. And whenever – completely by chance, not by him whining to sit beside you – you sit beside him at lunch, he knocks his knee against yours, and leans too close and talks to you, like you're the only there. But still. Jihoon insists you're friends.)

When it's over. He drags you away, – “Stealing me away when no one's looking, clever.” “Please, just... Bear with me.” – his fingers tug at your wrist.

You're led to a bench by the school gates. Where he places his hands on your shoulders and pushes you to sit while he paces. People yell their goodbyes at him, and he waves goodbye back to each one.

“Jihoon, I wanted to ask you something–” Your hands folds over your lap, fingers playing with the hem of your uniform skirt. “Um... Who, who did you give your second button to? I know it's none of my–” He stills, and then his grabbing one of your hands, placing the button in your open palm before he closes it.

And it's quiet, a long deafening silence.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, and your eyes widen, face flushing. “Like, as friends?” You ask innocently. And he stammers, “What? No– like, as more than friends. Like in the movies, romance, you know?”

“It...” You trail off. Your heart is beating, overgrowing in your chest, too ripe, too soft. “It's okay.”

When he sits beside you, you don't know what to do. You stiffen, and he places a hand on your hand, rubbing gently.

He places a hand over your closed fist, the one with the button. You face him, and this is the closest you've been to him, probably. You unstiffen when he smiles, fond.

He tells you to close your eyes, and you do. Feeling his warm breath over your face, before soft lips press to yours.

It takes your breath away. The air in your lungs lets out through your nose, and it feels like a secret. The kiss is barely there, light on your lips. But it impacts you so much.

When he pulls away and you open your eyes, he's smiling fondly.

“I still remember when you told me not to like you,” You say, and he groans, leaning back. “Don't remember me.” His hand stays over yours, and you place your free hand over his.

You redden. Ribcage open, fruit heart hanging, ripe.

“What... What does this mean? I mean, you're graduating and I'm... I'm not. Not yet.”

“It means, you'll have to come over often,” He tells you, shifting closer to you. You nod, “I'll visit over, Jihoon, so take care of me~”

(Neither you or Jihoon tell Youngji. A part of you falls apart slowly when she asks if you like anyone, you lie. About Jihoon. About everything.)

—

Age 15 –

When you get to high school, you drift from Youngji and grow closer to Jihoon. But she remains a constant; hooking her arm in yours, and pulling you in close.

When you get to high school, you and Jihoon navigate your relationship in gaps of everyone's eyes, where no one can see – he insists it's because you're new to dating, you think of his sister and tell him you're scared of being hated; he doesn't understand.

(He corners you, drags you somewhere eyes won't see – “Are you getting prettied each day?” “... You need glasses.” “You better be joking, [name]!” – presses his hands on your shoulders, holding on like bicycle handles, before his hands run down your arms, meeting your hands, filling the gaps of your fingers with his – “We're like puzzle pieces,” he'd say, through teeth and lips, mumbling, you'd look somewhere else – he stands close, staring at you – “Sometimes I think we're meant to be,” It'd go silent, something will raise over you, you'd open your mouth, moving, but nothing. “Was that too much?” He'd ask, and you'd squeeze his hand, shaking your head – when he kisses you, it's just a press of lips, soft, tender. Barely there. Like a secret, and it's you and Jihoon's secret – “I think we should tell people now... I want to, I hope you understand.” You do. “... Okay. We'll do it.”)

When you get to high school, you and Youngji are the type of friends who never get mad at one another – you were.

(“Hey, Youngji? Can I ask you something...?” You ask, quiet in her room. It's dark, cold. Her feet are on yours, tangled. Her body pressed close for warmth. “Sure, go for it,” Youngji's voice is quiet too, full of something nice. Sweet. “What... What would you say if I were dating someone? Someone you know... Someone close...?” You ask, turning to watch her face. The way it lights up understand the screen of her phone. She gets up quick, turning full at you. “Are you dating someone?!” It echoes in her room, and you're sure it echoes everywhere in her house. “I– I, I am. But you have to promise me you won't get mad, okay?” You hold out your pinky, waiting for her. She's quick to lock it with hers. “Tell me!” She smiles, right at you. “It's... It's Jihoon.” And Then her smile is gone, slowly falling off her face. “My brother Jihoon? That Jihoon?” It's not exactly disgust, just a breath of something odium. You nod, and she pulls her hand away, “Why didn't you tell me?” She asks, and you can see the lines of anger growing on her face. “I... I don't know... We just started dating, and... And he thought it'd be better if we shouldn't,” you tell her, a feeling of guilt swimming in your gut. “Well, what did you think?” She asks, voice hard. “I... I didn't think,” You mumble, head hanging. “Of course you didn't.” She says. “Right.” You say, voice distant; you both go to sleep, backs turned away.)

You walk home with Jihoon that day, after listening to her yelling at him for not telling her, he doesn't yell back, telling her it was his fault – you think it's yours.

Youngji stops linking her arm in yours, and starts hanging out with another girl you both went to middle school with. You hold Jihoon's hand at school, and you feel like you can breath.

(“I'm sorry you and my sister are fighting...” He whispers in your hair, his body on his side, facing you. “I... We shouldn't have told anyone, it's my fault–” His hand is tightening in yours. “It's no one's fault, it was the right thing to do. We should have told people first, that we were together. You wanted people to know and that's okay.” You turn to face him, he sighs. “I... I know, I'm just sorry.” You and Jihoon begin to spend days at your house instead of his, a thick tension between his sister and him – and still, you think it's your fault.)

—

Age 16 –

(Jihoon has one unequivocal truth; he loves you).

“Our anniversary is coming up~” He says, it's lunch and you're studying. His fingers brushing your hair away from your face. You hum, “I know. You said you wanted us to do something,” He hums, moving closer to you, body pressing to your side. “I was thinking... Sky diving!” You look at him, “with what money? We're high school students, Jihoon.” He barks a laugh, quick, loud. “I was joking,” He says, and you hum softly, a sigh leaving your lips. “School's hard,” You whine. “How about, a date? Let me take you out.” It's serious. Because he's staring at you, face void of a smile, but his eyes shine bright, starbursts. “Don't we go on those all the time?” You question, head tilting. “Those aren't dates, we usually just stay in your room and talk,” You ‘oh’ softly, before you become shy, cheeks turning red.

“I've never been on a date.” You say, and it makes him smile. He nods. “Let me take you out.” He repeats, and you're heart flutters.

When your anniversary comes, you panic.

[Jihoon]: might b late, can u come over? sorry baby :(

[name]: its ok, don't worry ^^

“Ma!” You yell, pacing in your room. She busts in, looking panicked, “What did I tell you about yelling?... Honey, you look so pretty!” She's smiling, the lines on her face, fading when her cheeks lift. “It's not too much? Right?”

She walks to you, her hands cupping your cheeks. “You're beautiful,” It's sincere, making you smile too.

“Now go. Be home before 7, or I will come find you myself.”

When you got to his house, your father dropping you off. Youngji answers the door, an awkward silence between you both.

“Hi... Um, is... Is Jihoon here?” It's the first time you've talked to her since last year, and you feel strange under her stare. She nods, moving to let you in. “I'll go get him for you.” She begins to walk away, leaving you to stand awkwardly at the door, staring after her. She stops, abruptly. “Youlookpretty!” Before she's bolting away. You let out a confused noise.

You smile, a weight lifting off of your shoulders. You stare at your shoes, hands coming together at your chest. She comes back first, standing a distance away from you, you begin, “I'm sorry. I should have told you, I was naive, I didn't think–” then you're in her arms, she's squeezing tightly. “I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have gotten so upset.”

You wrap your arms around her, “You don't have to be sorry, you were right to be upset. I should have told you,” She sighs, mumbling something.

“I think I always knew you liked him,” You laugh awkwardly, “was it that obvious?” you ask, and she pulls away, brows raised. “I think so!”

“I'm ready,” Jihoon says, biting the inside of his cheek after. Youngji hums, “Be home at 7!” She says to Jihoon, looking over her shoulder, her hands rubbing your arms, before she goes to open the door. “Have fun, okay?”

(That evening, Jihoon tells you he loves you. Your heart hangs open in your chest, growing ripe.)

Extra!

When you graduate, you move in with Jihoon. A small apartment in the city, he teasingly tell his friends his childhood sweetheart followed him to college. But it was Jihoon who followed you when you told him it was your first option at schools.

Jihoon is serious about your relationship. Despite never being with anyone else, he prays you never want to break up with him.

When arguments occur, he never you going to sleep upset at him. He apologizes first, – even if you're one in the wrong, you own up to your mistakes just as he does. You both always go to bed peaceful with one another.

Jihoon likes grocery shopping. He picking out foods, and trying out new things. If you don't like something, he remembers and tries to avoid it. Especially when his friends give him it for leftovers.

Jihoon is more domestic than he likes to admit, telling everyone you're the domestic one. by

[fieryanmitsu]

The Heart-Pounding Sunrise Trek of Bonding | A3! | “Take the Stage” Fanzine

I am very honoured to announce that I am one of the contributors for the recently released A3! Take the Stage Fanzine! It was such a great experience working with so many talented artists and writers! Everyone's pieces turned out AMAZING, and I would highly recommend to check out the full zine! The fanzine can be downloaded for free here!

And, now that the zine has dropped, I'm able to share my piece with you all here! This story is based on the "Campfire Bonds" event and stars Muku and Citron as the focal characters!

Please enjoy~!

THE HEART-POUNDING SUNRISE TREK OF BONDING

THEME: “Campfire Bonds” event

CHARACTERS: Muku Sakisaka, Citron, Sakuya Sakuma, Masumi Usui, Tsuzuru Minagi, Itaru Chigasaki, Tenma Sumeragi, Yuki Rurikawa, Misumi Ikaruga, Kazunari Miyoshi & Izumi Tachibana

My fanfic masterpost: Here

AO3: Link in my Blog Menu

Muku stared intensely at his phone as he checked for the umpteenth time that he had set his alarm properly. Seeing that the numbers really did read ‘3:00am’, he locked his phone and placed it beside his pillow. 

“Ugh. I swear I can still taste the tabasco in my mouth even though I brushed my teeth,” Tenma groaned as he entered the tent.

“Did anyone get a normal chocolate for the s’mores?” asked Kazunari, looking up from his phone. 

“Izumi liked hers!” Misumi chimed in.

“That’s just because she’s a crazy Currian! No one would normally like a curry-flavoured chocolate,” Yuki snapped back.

“Anyway, everyone’s here, right? I’m gonna turn off the lights,” Tenma announced. “We have to get up early tomorrow, so we should sleep now.”

A flurry of mumbled goodnights flew around the tent as their leader turned off the lamp. Before long, the air was filled with the sounds of heavy breathing and light snoring. 

However, sleep continued to elude Muku as he stared fretfully at the ceiling of the tent—his brain whirring with his anxieties. Though the Summer Troupe’s first two plays had gone well, deep down, Muku felt that he had barely squeaked by with his performances. He knew that he was still the weakest link, and was terrified of dragging everyone else down. 

Just once, Muku wished he could give back to the ones who continually helped him so much. But, he didn’t even have any special skills—like Yuki or Kazunari—that he could put to use for the Summer Troupe or the Mankai Company. 

So, when Izumi had first announced this training camp, Muku had immediately volunteered to be one of the organizers, even though he had never taken on such a role before. At the time, it had seemed like the perfect opportunity to prove himself and be helpful to the others. Surely, even someone as untalented as him could manage to do this much.

Inspired by a scene out of a shoujo manga, Muku had manically researched to formulate a grand plan. First, they would strengthen their bonds as they hiked side-by-side through bountiful nature. Then, they would share a heart-racing special moment together as the rising sun etched its image into their memories. Plus, with the fresh mountain air, he was sure they would get more mileage out of their vocal exercises. 

However, when they had gathered to discuss the itinerary, his excitement had quickly been extinguished when his plan had been met with unenthusiastic faces. Some of the Company members hadn’t seemed interested in witnessing the sunrise, and many others had groaned about the early start time. 

After the meeting, Citron had clapped him on the shoulders, looked him in the eyes with a mysterious, all-knowing smile and said: “Do not worry, Muku! Your idea is most wonderful! Everyone will be super duper happy when they see the sun grating them! I will make sure of it—trust me!”

Though his brain continued to worry and fret, Muku clung to the words and reassuring grin that the Zahran man had given him that day and allowed the darkness to finally lull him to sleep…

The next morning, with much struggle—along with Citron banging some pots and pans together—the two organizers managed to wake up their fellow troupe members and line them up outside of their tents. Though, they may as well have still been laying in their sleeping bags. Masumi was draped on top of Tsuzuru’s back, fast asleep. Itaru was crouched on the ground, muttering to himself with a half-dead expression on his face. Even the ever-chipper Kazunari had his chin propped on Misumi’s shoulder, both of them nodding off despite being on their feet.

Citron came to stand beside Muku and nudged him gently. With a gulp, the pink-haired boy mustered all of his courage and stood up as straight and tall as he could manage.

“G-Good morning, everyone! Thanks for waking up so early to join us for the first item on our itinerary today: the ‘Heart-Pounding Sunrise Trek of Bonding!’” Muku announced. “I know that it’s silly to want to follow someone who’s more annoying than the itchiest bite from a mosquito that arrived earlier than the usual mosquito season—”

“Muku, literally no one said that,” Yuki interrupted with a sigh. “Just lead the way.”

“O-Oh right! S-Sorry!” Muku responded, snapping out of his rant. “P-please follow me and watch your step!”

As Muku led the way to the forest trail, with the others shuffling groggily behind him, he couldn’t help but cringe as he heard someone yawn loudly and another person let out a groan.

“Ugh, this sucks…” 

“Masumi, stop it! The Director wouldn’t be happy to hear you say that,” Sakuya protested in a hushed tone. “Look! She’s enjoying herself, so you should copy her.”

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, after all… Muku thought to himself, worrying at his bottom lip.

“Muku, why don’t you tell everyone about the path?” Citron suddenly said from behind him. “Did you not do lots of the research?”

“Really, Mukkun?” Kazunari asked, perking up and looking more awake than earlier. 

“O-Oh, yes! Apparently, this path dates back to the Sengoku era. Monks used it as part of a pilgrimage route and this campsite actually used to be an aesthetic training ground,” Muku explained.

“That’s actually really cool,” Tsuzuru remarked. “Who knew that there was so much history in a place like this!”

“Ah! That signpost there marks the quarter-way point! We can take a quick rest here!” Muku explained, noticing that they had lost a few members. 

“I-I can’t go on…” Itaru wheezed as he finally caught up to the others several minutes later.

“C’mon Itaru, we’re almost there! You can do it!” Izumi chirped encouragingly, passing the salaryman a bottle of water.

“It’s okay, Itaru! You will soon have your senses delighted by a surprise up ahead! Tell them about it, Muku,” Citron implored.

“Y-Yes! Ummm… Just down this path is a beautiful waterfall that the monks used as part of their training,” Muku responded, taking the older man’s cue. “I… I actually purposely picked this path because it would take us by the waterfall. Legend says that, if you make a wish there, your deepest desires will come true! So, I thought that you would really like to see that, Itaru! Maybe it’ll help with your next gacha pull in your games!!”

“Seriously? Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.”

Muku felt his heart flutter as the others started chattering excitedly about what wishes they would make. With this renewed vigour, their group continued on their hike, making a stop at the wish-granting waterfall on the way. 

Then, almost an hour after they had left their campsite, Muku spotted the sign marking their final destination.

“We’re here, everyone!”

There was a collective sigh of relief as the members of the Mankai Company cleared the last steps and planted their feet on the plateau. However, their mutters quickly died in their throats as they came face-to-face with the view before them. A forest of trees spread out endlessly ahead, surrounded on both sides by jagged cliffs. The sun peeked above the horizon of the valley and the sky was dyed a gorgeous blend of soft oranges, pinks and straggling blues.

“Amazing!” Sakuya breathed softly. “This is beautiful, Muku!”

“Beautiful doesn’t even begin to describe it!!” Kazunari added, immediately taking out his phone.

“You did good, Muku. Here’s a triangle!” Misumi said with a smile, handing the pink-haired boy a smooth and shiny triangular-shaped rock.

“Yeah… It made waking up worth it,” Masumi murmured, showing a rare smile.

“This was great, Muku. Thanks for planning this for us,” Tenma said, punching him lightly in the arm.

“Yeah, seriously! I’m so glad that someone was able to plan a normal activity for this training camp. Unlike a certain someone’s crazy ‘Russian Roulette S’mores’ idea,” Tsuzuru said with a sigh, throwing a baleful glare at Citron.

“Oh, Tsuzuru! You wound me! I put so much thought into making an unforgiveable event for everyone!”

“I think you mean ‘unforgettable’,” Itaru piped in.

“Look here, it’s not ‘Russian Roulette’ if all of the options are weird!” Tsuzuru exclaimed in exasperation.

“No kidding! I can’t believe I had to eat that awful wasabi chocolate because of you! I thought my mouth was on fire!” Yuki added, jabbing a finger into Citron’s chest angrily. “You’re lucky this sunrise made up for that atrocious game!”

As Citron dramatically crumpled to the ground from Yuki’s attack, a hand clutched over his heart, he turned his head towards Muku and shot him a wink.

At that moment, Muku felt a rush of warmth surge out of his chest and envelope the rest of his body. As he suppressed the tears prickling behind his eyes, Muku thought that he could now truly understand the meaning behind all of those times his shojo manga had compared someone’s smile to the brightness of the sun.

Writing this story was such a fun challenge for me! I had to work with a word count restriction, but I also wanted to make sure I somehow included every other character from the event — so it was definitely a juggling act, haha! It was also my first time writing about both Muku and Citron, so that was a new challenge in itself. Especially since I wanted to make sure I did two of my favourite characters justice!! In the end, I'm really happy I had the opportunity to write this and am so thankful that I was able to be part of this zine! Again, do check out the full zine if you have a chance!|

As always, thank you for reading and feel free to leave a comment if you have any thoughts!! Any reblogs are always appreciated!!

-Anmitsu

[maddie-grove]

Bi-Monthly Reading Round-Up (July/August)

PLAYLIST

"Breakaway” by Kelly Clarkson (The Wonder)

“The Lusty Month of May” from Camelot (Between a Highlander and a Hard Place)

“Blood on My Name” by The Brothers Bright (Vampires in the Lemon Grove)

“Too Good at Goodbyes” by Sam Smith (A Prince on Paper)

“All I See Is You” by Dusty Springfield (The End of Everything)

“Your Song” by Elton John (Patience and Sarah)

“Reach Out and Touch (Somebody’s Hand)” by Diana Ross (Touchy Subjects)

“When You’re Young and in Love” by the Marvelettes (Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda)

“No Sleep Tonight” by the Faders (Can’t Escape Love)

“Take Me in Your Arms (Rock Me a Little While)” by Kim Weston (Bury Me Deep)

“Cold Bread” by Johnny Flynn (Fludd)

“Thunder Road” by Bruce Springsteen (The Rest of the Story)

“How Can I Meet Her?” by the Everly Brothers (Someone to Honor)

“A Matter of Trust” by Billy Joel (The Scandalous Secret of Abigail MacGregor)

BEST OF THE BI-MONTH

The Wonder by Emma Donoghue (2016): Lib Wright, an English nurse who worked with Florence Nightingale in the Crimean War, is hired to observe Anna O’Donnell, an eleven-year-old Irish girl who claims to have not eaten for four months. Initially exasperated at the everyone’s credulity, Lib gradually realizes that there’s a lot more going on with Anna, her family, and her village than she thought...and that the girl may be in serious danger if she doesn’t intervene. Despite my love of Donoghue’s work, I put off reading this one for a while because the subject looked so grim. Although Donoghue does deal with difficult material, the growing relationship between prickly Lib and bright-but-haunted Anna makes the novel transcendent.

WORST OF THE BI-MONTH

Between a Highlander and Hard Place by Mary Wine (2018): After her highborn suitor shows his true colors, Athena Trappes sets fire to his house in self-defense and flees to Scotland. There she attracts the attention of Symon, Laird Grant, a melancholy widower. This Elizabethan romance has its moments, notably a lovely meet-cute at a May Day celebration, but it’s mostly dull with some irritating tropes.

REST OF THE BI-MONTH

Vampires in the Lemon Grove by Karen Russell (2013): In this collection, Russell tells the stories of various oddities, including women who turn into silkworms, presidents who are reincarnated as horses, and, yes, vampires in the lemon grove. The collection is remarkably consistent, and Russell shows enormous range in it. My favorites are the utterly chilling prairie horror of “Proving Up,” the hilariously absurd “The Barn at the End of the Term,” and the heartbreaking “The Graveless Doll of Eric Mutis.”

A Prince on Paper by Alyssa Cole (2019): Nya Jerami has existed under a cloud of suspicion and gossip since her abusive father, an adviser to the king of Thesolo, was sent to prison for poisoning his political rivals. Eager to start her life properly but unsure how, Nya finds unexpected help from Johan van Braustein, the seemingly devil-may-care stepson of the king of a European micronation. This is my favorite contemporary romance I’ve ever read, with two dynamic, endearing protagonists and a strong sense of setting. Cole expertly blends realistic modern-day concerns with frothy wish fulfillment (plus a dash of fairy-tale Gothic).

The End of Everything by Megan Abbott (2011): When her best friend Evie disappears, thirteen-year-old Lizzie only has scanty clues regarding where or why. As she becomes more and more consumed with finding the answer, she discovers dark secrets underlying her seemingly placid 1980′s suburb. Of all the Abbott novels I’ve read, this is the simplest and perhaps the most disturbing. I didn’t love it, but it’s very effective.

Patience and Sarah by Isabel Miller (1969): In 1810′s Connecticut, educated “spinster” Patience White finds herself intrigued by sweet, rough-hewn Sarah Dowling. Although their families contrive to keep them apart, they eventually make it to New York and start a farm together. Of the five f/f romance novels I’ve read, this is my very favorite. Miller captures the feel of early American literature very well, and the romance has a nice balance of tension and sweetness.

Touchy Subjects by Emma Donoghue (2006): This collection of short stories is, naturally enough, organized around “touchy subjects” like babies, domesticity, strangers, desire, and death. There are some jewels in this collection: the sad/funny “WritOr” (about a struggling author who takes on a resident-writer position at a rural college), the bittersweet “The Welcome” (about a naive young lesbian with a crush on a reserved trans woman), and the strangely uplifting “Enchantment” (about a rivalry between Cajun fishermen). There’s a lot of chaff to separate from the wheat, though; many of the stories are very slight.

Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda by Becky Albertalli (2015): Simon Spier, an upper-middle-class teen in suburban Atlanta, isn’t 100% sure why he hasn’t come out as gay to his liberal family or friends, but for now he prefers to keep his sexuality (and a flirtatious email correspondence with an anonymous boy called Blue) under wraps. When a classmate finds out the truth and blackmails Simon into setting him up with his friend Abby, that task becomes a lot more complicated. Despite the rather disturbing premise, this is a super-cute YA novel that I would have loved when I was a YA. (At twenty-eight, I still liked it a lot; it’s just got a sense of immediacy that was a little lost on me thanks to my relatively advanced age, but would’ve been very appealing to me at sixteen.) 

Can’t Escape Love by Alyssa Cole (2019): Regina Hobbs, highly successful proprietor of a website about nerdy stuff, has it all together, except she’s suffering from a wicked case of insomnia. She’s convinced that only the voice of Gustave Nguyen, a puzzle designer she got to know after tuning into his livestream, can get her to sleep, so she contacts him to see if she can have a recording of his voice. Even though they both think it’s kind of weird, her request gets them talking...and MORE. This is a short but absolutely delightful novella about two neat people hooking up. The stakes are low, but the tensions stemming from Regina’s family keeps things interesting.

Bury Me Deep by Megan Abbott (2009): In the depths of the Great Depression, Marion Seeley finds herself alone in Phoenix while her morphine-addict husband chases redemption in Mexico. Working an administrative job at a local hospital, she falls in with party-girl nurse Louise, her TB-afflicted girlfriend Ginny, and (much to her sorrow) corrupt, handsome Joe Lanigan. Abbott’s historical crime novel takes a little while to heat up, but once it does it’s a very satisfying thriller. However, I was never convinced of Joe’s attractiveness even at a surface level, which was kind of an impediment to enjoying the story because Marion sure is.

Fludd by Hilary Mantel (1989): A mysterious stranger comes to a deeply Catholic, determinedly miserable English village in the 1950′s, claiming to be the new curate. While there, he greatly affects the lives of an alcoholic priest, his prim housekeeper, an unhappy young nun, and a pompous bishop. This is a highly peculiar, often enjoyable fable, although it drags quite a bit in the third quarter.

The Rest of the Story by Sarah Dessen (2019): Emma, an anxious seventeen-year-old who lost her mom to addiction five years ago, ends up spending part of the summer with her seldom-seen maternal relatives, who own a downscale motel in a lake town. While there, she learns about her mother’s secret history, observes the tensions between her family’s working-class community and the upscale resort people across the lake, has a low-key romance with a childhood friend, and practices her driving. This novel isn’t among Sarah Dessen’s best--the ending is a little rushed, and the romance feels perfunctory--but the setting is cool and Emma is an interesting protagonist.

Someone to Honor by Mary Balogh (2019): Years after her dad’s bigamy was revealed, resulting in her de-legitimization, reserved Abigail Westcott shows no interest in trying to re-enter society, instead opting to hang out with her convalescing Napoleonic War veteran brother. Unfortunately, his surly friend, Lieutenant Gilbert Bennington, is also intent on keeping her brother company to avoid his own problems, and he and Abigail don’t exactly get along. They come to understand each other, though, and decide to take a chance on marriage when Gilbert finds himself in trouble. I found this Regency romance to be solid but overly somber (not an infrequent issue with Balogh). I never got a great sense of who Abigail was and, while I sympathized with Gil, I also found him very irritating at times.

The Scandalous Secret of Abigail MacGregor by Paula Quinn (2015): In the late 1700′s, Queen Anne summons Davina MacGregor, secret eldest daughter of James II (and, were she not Catholic, rightful ruler of Great Britain), to court. Because Davina is sickly, her daughter Abigail, who has ambitions of being clan chieftain, goes to court in her place. She’s accompanied by Captain General Daniel Marlow, a Jacobite-hating English soldier and close friend of Anne’s. He’s got some trust issues and a stalker. This romance had a lot of potential, but too much of it is spent on the road and not enough on juicy court drama. The straight-version-of-Rachel-Weisz’s-character-in-The-Favorite villain was also, unfortunately, usurped by her much more boring lover.

[imagine-loki]

Yes Mistress

TITLE: Yes Mistress CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 25 AUTHOR: angryowlet ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine after a heated argument with Thor, Loki turns himself into a woman out of spite. RATING: Mature/Explicit NOTES/WARNINGS: NSFW, This is a F/F BDSM relationship. If that’s not your cup of tea, don’t drink it. The events in this fic take place before the first Thor movie.

This chapter and previous one were originally one super long chapter that I split in two. You may want to go back and re-read that before starting this one.

Skáld - bard or poet.

Also on AO3

“…so anyway, they got caught by the Stable Master in the hay loft who told the Steward, and the Steward lectured Ingrid loud enough for the whole hall to hear–”

“Which one is Petter? Is he new?” Loki broke in.

She took another bite of smoked salmon and dill flavored scrambled eggs on toast as her Pet continued.

“The red head with all the freckles. I think he started around the same time I did. He was on his own time so the Stable Master couldn’t really punish him. Ingrid did get in trouble because she was supposed to wait at table that night since Prince Thor is gone, but she didn’t know. Nobody could find her to tell her because she was in the hay loft with Petter. So it’s not entirely her fault.” Sanna continued. “With Prince Thor leaving so suddenly, Ingrid probably thought she wouldn’t be missed for an hour or two.” “Poor Kennet.” Loki shook her head. “I wonder if he even knows he’s been replaced?”

“Marit said they’ve been fighting for at least a fortnight so I doubt he’ll be surprised.” Sanna bit into her own eggs on toast.

“Ah well, ‘The course of true love never did run smooth’,” Loki sighed. At Sanna’s look she added, “It’s a quote from a Midgardian skáld. Quite a brilliant one too. Dead now of course, but his poetry is still read and his plays are still performed. Perhaps we’ll take one in when we visit? Would you like that?”

Sanna swallowed and nodded. “I would Mistress. Are all his works about love?”

“It’s featured in quite a few but he wrote about everything. Love, passion, betrayal. Kings reduced to madness and rags, great generals rising and falling from power. Murder, marriage, mistaken identity, suicide, the joy of finding loved ones thought long dead still alive. He wrote it all. The whole spectrum of mortal life. Actually–”

Loki paused, set down her plate and went over to the bookshelves along the far wall. She ran a fingertip over the spines until she came to a small volume bound in red leather with it’s title embossed in gold leaf in the cover. She came back with it in hand.

“I picked this up on one of my earliest trips to Midgard. It’s one of the collections of his works. Some of the comedies. The play I quoted from is called 'A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ and its the first one in here.” Loki handed the book to her Pet.

Sanna set her own plate down and took it, opening to a random page at the beginning and reading a little.

“Mistress? What’s a 'spaniel’ and why is this woman demanding to be treated as one?”

“It’s a type of dog. She’s in love with someone who doesn’t love her back. It makes more sense when you’ve read the whole thing, or seen it performed.” Loki took the book back and resumed eating.

“For a moment, I feared I’d lost my ability to understand Allspeak.” Sanna picked up her plate.

Loki chuckled. Around bites of toast she said, “He has that effect. There are many on Midgard who can’t understand his work, yet it’s been so popular over the centuries that mortals the realm over still use words and phrases he created without realizing it.”

Loki finished her toast and attacked the bowl of fresh fruit that had also been sent up.

“What were you saying about Ingrid?” She tossed a berry into her mouth.

“What– Oh! Yes. Everyone heard her getting in trouble with the Steward so naturally they all avoided her in the hall at the midday meal–” Sanna gestured with the last of her own toast, “–By the way, making Marit think we were sneaking food did the trick. She opened up about all the gossip flowing through the palace, but she hasn’t heard a thing about the prince’s mystery woman. She’s agreed to help us though.”

Sanna popped the last of her toast in her mouth, chewed and swallowed before continuing.

“Anyway, I told her we should go befriend Ingrid since she was so embarrassed– she’s lost her position until Prince Thor returns and the Steward gave her extra work to keep her out of trouble. Apparently Petter is avoiding her–”

“That ass!” Loki interjected.

Sanna nodded in agreement.

“So we went over to her at the evening meal and you could tell she’d been crying. She sat kind of hunched over, you know, like she was in pain? She was sitting all by herself at the end of the table. So we sat near her and talked about the weather and this and that. Just stupid things that didn’t really matter. Ingrid didn’t say more than two words to us, but she kind of unbent a little by the end of the meal. Marit’s going to try again today. It might be easier with only one person.”

Sanna reached just fast enough for the fruit bowl to beat Loki to the last handful.

“Did you find out anything from Lady Sif?” Sanna licked her fingers in small triumph and ignored her Mistress’s dark look.

“Nothing yet. Not even Fandral knows of Thor’s current favorite. The all agreed there was a blonde last summer but that’s been over for some time. Whatever he’s been doing, he’s been keeping it a very close secret indeed.”

Sanna thought to herself for a moment before asking, “I beg your pardon Mistress, I don’t mean any disrespect to the prince, but is that something he’s capable of? He doesn’t seem to be the secretive type.”

Loki leaned back against the divan and chose her words with care.

“Something you should know about my brother Pet, he’s far more clever than he appears. Particularly when there’s something he wants. Thor can be patient, quiet, and even secretive when he chooses. And he does lie. His countenance is so open, so unaffected, that everyone believes wholeheartedly in the things he says. I know better. Our mother knows better. The Allfather chooses to ignore Thor’s faults when they resemble his own.”

“That’s… Slightly terrifying.”

“Indeed. Have you finished eating?”

“What? Oh. Yes Mistress.”

Sanna got up to clean up their plates and put everything back on the tray but Loki stopped her.

“Ah ah ah! Pet! It’s your day away from your duties, remember?”

Loki waved her hand and the whole collection of plates, warming dishes, and the tray itself disappeared.

“You truly don’t need a handmaiden, do you?” Sanna asked.

Loki raised an eyebrow at her and replied, “Not for that.” She looked the girl up and down before continuing, “I think you know why I desire to keep you near me Pet. But perhaps, you need a reminder?”

Sanna blushed at Loki’s obvious innuendo. She ducked her head and looked at her Mistress through her lashes, imitating the ladies she’d seen flirting with the lords at court.

“Will you have time for that this morning Mistress? To remind me properly?”

Loki clucked her tongue at her Pet, “Tease.”

Sanna giggled and blushed. Loki reached up and pulled the girl onto her lap.

“Since it is your day away from your duties, you may skip your morning edging. However, I’m still going to edge you for an hour tonight. Also, I will be leaving you with a reminder of my touch to keep you company until I return.”

______________________________________________________

Sanna ran a bath for them. After they were both clean, Loki sat on one of the submerged ledges and pulled her Pet onto her lap.

“I think,” Loki began, playfully tugging on one of Sanna’s nipples, “when I return tonight I want you to be waiting for me the same way you were last night. You hair up, armband and thrall dress on. Greet me as you did so perfectly last night, and I will inspect and collar you again.”

Her other hand moved from where it rested on her Pet’s hip, fingertips gliding up between her breasts and collarbone, to softly touch the side of her neck. Loki ran her thumb over Sanna’s lips and her Pet parted them without being told. Her pink tongue peaked out to flick over the pad of her Mistress’s thumb before coaxing it into her mouth to suck.

Sanna shivered at her Mistress’s whispered, “Good girl.” “I want you to get a feel for the collar and lead. They are the physical representations of your submission to me, and my ownership of you. In time, you will wear your collar so often that you’ll come to feel naked without it, even while fully dressed.”

Loki had been watching her Pet’s face while she spoke, noting how aroused she was getting at her Mistress’s words. She could feel the pulse under her fingers jump when she spoke of owning her Pet.

“You like being my thrall, don’t you? My willing little bed slave. I can see it on your face, how eager you are to spread your thighs for me.”

Sanna nodded her head, mouth busy.

Loki pulled her thumb back and stroked her Pet’s lips.

“Use your words.”

“Yes Mistress.”

“Yes what?”

Sanna blushed as she said, “Yes, I like being your thrall Mistress.”

“What else are you?”

Her blush deepened, “I’m your bed slave Mistress.”

“My willing little bed slave?”

Sanna bit her lip before answering, “Yes Mistress. I’m your willing little bed slave.”

“What else?”

Loki was delighting in the embarrassment she was causing.

Sanna flushed a bright red as she said, “I’m– I’m eager to spread my thighs for you.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Loki pulled her Pet in for a kiss. “You’ll get the chance to prove just how eager you are tonight. For now though, I’m only going to leave you with a little reminder of what you are while I’m gone.”

Loki flicked open the drains and dried them both with her seidr as they left the bathing pool. She shrugged on her robe but didn’t bother to tie it on the walk back to her bedchamber. Once there she sat at her dressing table while Sanna brushed her hair.

“What are your plans for today? You have your punishment to complete, and you spoke of writing to your sister, but I doubt either of those will fill all of your time.”

“I– I don’t really know. Perhaps I’ll read one of the books you bought me in the marketplace? I haven’t gotten a chance to try my new chair or table yet either. Actually, I’ve barely spent any time in my room.”

“Try reading the book of Midgardian plays I left on the divan. There’s one in there called 'Much Ado About Nothing’. I have a feeling you might like a character in there named Beatrice. Or you could stroll through the gardens. Take your books with you and find a comfortable spot. There’s a bench by the pond that has a very fine shade tree behind it. I will warn you though, it feels as if it’s going to rain.”

Sanna glanced at the clear sky through the open windows of the bedchamber.

“How can you tell Mistress?” Sanna finished and set the brush down.

“Years of living with Thor. I can feel the air change hours before a storm breaks. If you do leave our chambers, remember to put the shielding up before you go.”

Loki had pinned her hair up in a simple messy knot at the back of her neck. She needed it out of the way while she worked more than she needed to impress anyone who she may happen across at the archive. Her choice of dress for the day would be equally as simple. She stood and pulled Sanna over to take her place in front of the mirror.

“Sit. Plaits again or do you want to wear it down? You aren’t on duty now and you may do what you wish with it.”

“It feels so strange to wear it down. Up, I think. Then it will be out of the way tonight as well.”

“Good choice.”

Loki began running the brush through her Pet’s hair, taking the tangles out and sectioning it off. She spoke as she worked it into two plaits and pinned them along Sanna’s crown and tucked the ends in.

“I have kept you rather busy these last few days. You’ll have time to spend on your own in the future. I’m sure I’ll be giving more and more of my days to meetings and overseeing this and that.”

Her duties at the midsummer revels flashed into her mind. Loki wrinkled her nose and made a face at the thought.

Finishing her Pet’s hair, she turned to pull her clothes from the wardrobe. Black knee boots, stockings, and leggings. A soft, green tunic that reached her mid thigh. She pulled out a dark green leather jerkin with gold plating and clasps that had been cut to fit her current form.

“We’ll still see each other in the mornings and share most of our meals. And the nights too,” Sanna said as she turned in her seat to watch her Mistress dress.

She continued, “Perhaps you could convince the Allfather to let you work from your chamber from time to time? And every single day cannot be dedicated to the realm. Prince Thor is allowed to hunt and train with his friends and have his pleasures, and he will be king one day. Surely you cannot be expected to forgo all the things you enjoy when he does not?”

“That’s a fair point, but it may fall on deaf ears.” Loki sighed, “Until I have some reason to give them for Thor’s odd behavior, my Mother and Father must be content with my progress elsewhere.”

Loki was fully dressed as she came back over to where her Pet sat.

“Stand up Pet. Have you guessed yet, what reminder I’m going to leave you with?”

Loki held her hands in front of her and a length of golden rope appeared between them.

Sanna swallowed and looked at her Mistress, eyes wide.

“Don’t be frightened Pet. It’s not the same tie I used on you in the marketplace. I don’t want you to wear that one unless I’m with you. It’s too easy for you to be injured accidentally. This is similar to the first one you wore around your breasts. It won’t show no matter which dress you decide to wear. Now turn and face the mirror with your hands at your sides.”

“Yes Mistress.”

The tie Loki used was extremely simple, creating bands of rope both above and below her breasts, with a very pretty knot that sat flush with her breast bone in between them.

Loki was securing the ends of the rope in the back when she asked, “How does that feel Pet? Can you take a deep breath? Try to move a bit.”

“Yes Mistress. It’s not pinching or rubbing too much at all,” she said.

Sanna twisted, turned and bent over before Loki was satisfied.

“Good. There’s a pair of shears in the back of the drawer of my desk by the coin box. They’re sturdy enough to cut through the rope if you need to get out of it in a hurry. Otherwise, pull this end hard to the right and the knot in the back should undo itself. Then all you have to do to free yourself it to pull the ends back through. Do you understand?”

“Yes Mistress.”

“Good girl.”

Loki turned her Pet to face the mirror once more. Standing behind her, Loki stroked a hand down the girl’s arm and whispered, “Beautiful.” She pressed a kiss to the back of Sanna’s neck and whispered again, “Mine.”

With a sound of pain, Loki tore herself away from her Pet.

“If I stay any longer, I won’t leave at all. I’ll be back in time to share the evening meal with you. Enjoy your time alone. Don’t forget your instructions for tonight Pet,” in a firm tone she added, “or your punishment.”

“Yes Mistress. I won’t forget.”

Loki left in a flash of seidr.

Sanna glanced at the time keeper on the table by the bed and was astonished to find it had only been a little over an hour since she’d woken up.

[amyure]

Snippets from the Tokyo 7th Sisters Complete Music File

I’ll write some interesting things I find as I skim over the t7s complete music file. - Esh

Esh originally wrote this up as a twitter thread, I’ve compiled the tweets and lightly edited/sorted them. If you’re interested in picking up the book for yourself, it can be found on Amazon Japan as well as CDjapan. – Nab

Multifaceted Motegi

Both Satsuki Update and Kanaboshi Tsukumo are Motegi. (Hahahaha) [Motegi is the General Director of Tokyo 7th Sisters, aka the guy to thank for everything (along with his team of course)! For reference, those two lyricists’ identities were kind of a mystery in the earlier days of t7s… though now they’re both just listed as ‘Alias of Shintaro Motegi’ over at VGMdb haha]

Kanaboshi Tsukumo tends to be more straightforward, saying things that Satsuki Update is not able to say explicitly, as shown from the contrast between BokuAo [僕らは青空になる] and Funbare Runner's lyrics. Prizm Rizm’s lyrics were Motegi's first foray into songwriting.

Satsuki Update and Kanaboshi Tsukumo, even if both are Motegi, were created with different personalities. The song "Bokura wa Aozora ni Naru" and "Funbare Runner" were made as "brother songs", where the former shows Satsuki update, and the latter, Kanaboshi Tsukumo's differences from them.

"Nanasis doesn’t really stick to genres, right?" Motegi: Yes. It is more like, if the song doesn’t move me then I won’t release it. If I can’t say this part of the song is good, I won’t produce it. [This is def a big part of why I like t7s music so much…]

Song Notes

The concept of Crazy Girl's Beat is "Anyway, it's cool. Even the lyrics, they’re whatever that sounds cool. ‘Sexy lingerie, yo’, despite being a little ???, is also part of it. Anyway, cool."

WORLD'S END was made to explain to fans how QoP's song came into being. Kz was tasked with making a rock song that "isn't so Kz" (to which kz replied with "eh?") They [Motegi and Kz] made the lyrics together, making it seem like telling a story.

Lucky☆Lucky’s lyrics were written by imagining what kind of songs 4U would sing after getting over the events of Episode 4U. That's why they are firm and reassuring, not only to themselves but also to others and the outside world.

BokuAo was created to convey the feelings of gratitude to Shihainin [the in-game term for the player’s ‘manager’ character] for the great enthusiasm in 1st live and for Shihainins’ great enthusiasm to the music itself. "There is no one word for gratitude,” said Motegi. Within Funbare [FUNBARE☆RUNNER] were things not "explicitly said” in BokuAo. The jackets for BokuAo and Funbare Runner are the girls looking at audience, saying "Thank You.”

Taikutsu Ribbon [たいくつりぼん] was made on a rainy winter day; it was made because Motegi wanted a mellow song.

Watashi Ai for You’s title was thought up by Motegi.

Motegi said "It's okay if the lyrics are incomprehensible" to emon for B.A.A.B. The title is from the acronym of "Break Away", mirrored. The lyrics were by emon, but the title was thought up by Motegi.

It was decided for everyone to sing every part in H-A-J-I-M-A-R-I-U-T-A-!! and Motegi wrote it without the image of MC [main character]. Even the cast asked him, “whose feelings are these?” It was his own feeling to every young person who loves Nanasis, and the moment he thought “777 Sisters is great this way.”

Hello... My Friend is the song which Motegi, for the first time, crafted together with the composer. He felt "something" was lacking, so Ryudai Abe said, "come to my house" and they made the song together. It was also made after Motegi gave his all for Ep4U and got a positive reaction.

Haneru!!’s [ハネ☆る！！] lyrics were done in one night. It was when schedule was tight with LeSCa’s lyrics as well, and Motegi felt like he wanted to break away from that style. Motegi also seems to like having girls saying somewhat boyish things, so he put boyish words like "sakutekichuu" (searching for enemy) in.

Motegi commented there were only painful memories in the making of Behind Moon. Having had not enough time, he wrote it alone in a car while the others were out drinking, and thus put in words like "unfair". Yoshii Ayami (Kyoko’s former voice actress) praised Motegi a lot for the phrase "The mint tea smells like winter" in Behind Moon and for the very first time Motegi had the confidence to say, "I wrote it."

From B.A.A.B., Karakuri’s songs were made to have an ‘overseas’ sound. For -Zero, while thinking the concept may be ‘China, or Europe, or US’, Motegi remembered Karakuri as a name is very Japanese and decided to make lyrics with a lot of old Japanese words. For -Zero’s lyrics, Motegi referenced Heian period stuff like “The Pillow Book" or "Kokin Wakashuu", a collection of waka Japanese poetry from Heian period. (Personal note: no wonder it really took a lot of research for me when I translated -Zero...)

Seventh Haven was made before the 2nd Live and at that time, they [Motegi and Kz] were in a ‘dark mode’ where they were pondering, "Is it okay for idol songs to be like this?" "Just bust through it."

The lyrics from "Robber x Lover" began flowing after "I am sure, by Abracadabra...". "I don’t want to be a robber, I want to be a lover" is to convey a ‘that is just how much I love you’ vibe. Within WNo4’s songs, the girls' voices are the least "autotuned" in Robber x Lover.

Sayonara Rainy Lady’s lyrics were written when it was raining, which revealed a bright sky after stopping. This made the feelings during the time of their writing to be bright. Motegi specifically wanted the "Kudaranai hanashi" part be sung by Imai Asaka (Shizuka’s VA).

KUMAROBO comment for BokuAo: the last chorus’ guitar solo was conceived with the "thought of borrowing those feelings from Kz-san's song" but, he could not remember which song it was. He personally repeated that part numerous times as well, loving it very much. Upon being asked for a song he could never make himself, Kumarobo answered Seventh Haven. He couldn't get an idea how it was made at all, saying he might have been able to create Sparkle Time!! but he could never be able to make a Seventh Haven.

YELLOW’s lyrics were written before 2nd Live, in 2 hours. Motegi was at a park overlooking the ocean near an airport waiting for his plane, which is why it has the sky and breeze imagery within the lyrics.

KARAKURI's song Winning Day is linked to Episode KARAKURI’s scenario, especially how it questions the meaning of "winning". Where the girls "win but did not triumph."

Kz is a fan of Kumarobo. His favorite T7S songs are PUNCH'D RANKER, Cocoro Magical, Funbare Runner, HAJIMARIUTA, and YELLOW. The image he had of Killer Tuner changed upon seeing it live, which he described as “it's super awesome.” Kz said, while working on seventh haven, he felt for the first time he understood what Nanasis was. When he sent the track to his manager, his manager said, "this is an overkill.” Kz replied "just send it," and as it turned out, Motegi approved it right away. Kz said within the story there are dark moments here and there in Nanasis, and Seventh Haven represents what "blows up" after them.

During the making of Girls Talk, Ryudai Abe [composer of the track] said a discussion went, "don’t two girls talking sound nice?" to which the reply was "then phone calls seem good!" and somehow it was made with the atmosphere of ‘strange late-night high feelings’. The talking part of Girls talk [after the second chorus] was Motegi recording the "girls talk" of two young staff members and just putting it into the song. The fast-forwarding effect was also there because he wanted "to try it somehow," he said that at that time, he really played with things.

Seiyuus / units

Ferb is Hirose Yuuki's first voice acting role. She was told to portray Ferb with her "usual voice" but always had to calm down before recording, or else it would be “too Hirose."

Ayano Yamamoto, Yumeno VA, knew about QoP’s debut from twitter when fans started dropping congratulation messages on her twitter. She thought at first that they might have mistaken her with someone else or something, as she didn’t know what those congrats were for.

Just like in the QoP Drama CD, the voice actresses of QoP spent a long time practicing how to do their MC [talking to the audience] session for the Live. Hirose (Ferb VA) thought of it as fitting and very QoP.

LeSCa’s debut was determined when Kadokawa asked for novelization in Comptiq. Motegi had wanted to debut them but never had time/opportunity till Kadokawa's novelization offer. The same thing happened with QoP.

WITCH NUMBER 4's unit name is from the image of a super hacker swimming in digital world of 2034, ‘digital wizards’. Since they are girls, it became digital witches. With imagery of JK [high school] hackers, thus it is a technopop unit.

The theme for SiSH is ‘that refined lady you find commuting by bus.’

The theme for NI+CORA is ‘Is it superb compatibility, or incompatibility? Like two high heels touching at their tips’.

The theme for Sanbon Ribbon [サンボンリボン] is ‘Somewhere in their heart, there always remains a small girl.’

The theme for LeSCa is ‘the sweet and sour days of youth’; "What's LeSCa? It's lemon squash, refreshing, carbonated drinks!" [as explained by Kyoko in the novel]

Artwork / jacket illustrations  

The CD jacket for ‘t7s Longing for summer’ was originally meant to feature Mito, but MKS-san (main illustrator) said Haru would be good. Upon seeing the rough draft, Motegi felt that he had been mistaken. Haru was indeed the right choice, and with praise to MKS, the illustration was done up before the album released.

The jacket for ‘The Things She Loved’ [the t7s soundtrack album] is Nicole, not Coney, and the title is meant to be past tense. The moment she became Coney, thanks to the things she (had) loved, she can shine brightly. She continues to love it as time progresses towards her future.

Thanks to time constraints, -Zero/Treat or Treat? didn’t manage to get a full body illustration. Since it's Halloween, it is orange for pumpkin, and sticking out of the tongue as Halloween's "trick or treat"-ish playful feel.

The jacket illustration for YELLOW was to show “Triangle”. The white heels and beautiful legs are "very LeSCa", which Motegi had wanted to show off no matter what (Motegi commented how all 3 girls have beautiful legs). [Motegi…]

For Seventh Haven’s jacket, Motegi gave the raw track from Kz to MKS. Motegi had the image of both songs and illustrations' expressions and costumes, but in the end, he let MKS's design sense take the lead, and could only describe the final product as nothing less than amazing.

QoP album jacket was made black and white to show off a "rock band”-esque feel, with only their name in purple, symbolizing the band’s name.

The rough draft for Harukaze’s jacket was drawn by Motegi himself half a year before its release, then given to MKS. He then let it be just as per Motegi’s draft but the hand, the chin slightly tilted upwards, and Haru’s eyes were all MKS's design. Motegi requested for Haru's ear to be visible though.

Motegi on World’s End and Stay Gold/Start Line: MKS-san always knows what Motegi desires every time. Motegi praised MKS-san a lot in the music file, e.g. how his "world" would not be able to be separated from MKS-san's illustrations. He also commented how Musubi's leg is mesmerizing [in, I assume, illustrations where she is featured…? Such as You Can’t Win’s cover.]

For Present 4U, Motegi talked about how rock bands make jackets with meaning, but then often they don't have meaning. The illustration is "to show how the meaning is to have no meaning", fully made for the 'atmosphere', which is set in California, and tied to the Drama Track in the album.

Thanks to time constraints, for the “Are You Ready 7th-TYPES??” album jacket, only Nicole and Haru’s illustrations were finished. Since the ‘two colors’ concept was decided on, the art that was originally multi-colored was made monochrome red/blue. This was also to strengthen the image of a cool album.

Back to summaries

[raendown]

Pairing: KibaGaara Word count: 1619 Soulmate au: The one where you have a tattoo on your arm describing how you will meet each other

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI

Chapter 148: Kiba/Gaara

Mustering up his most dramatic and heart-wrenching whine, Kiba draped his upper body over the glass case displaying different flavors of muffins. At his feet Akamaru echoed the noise and turned in a pathetic little circle. Ino stared at him without changing her expression, whipped cream in hand but no mercy to be found in her eyes.

“No,” his friend denied him in a deadpan voice. Kiba whined again.

“Oh come on, please? I’ve gotta study for this test or I’m gonna flunk hard!”

“So? I don’t see why you care about school anyway.” Ino dropped her gaze pointedly to his arm before flouncing away to grab a shaker of chocolate sprinkles. One twist of whipped cream and two delicate shakes of sprinkles later and she had created a masterpiece.

Kiba snatched it up with a glare. “I don’t wanna work in the café forever,” he growled. “Just until I meet my soulmate. Then I–”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Then you’re going to be somebody!” Ino folded her hands under her chin and fluttered her eyelashes. A second later she dropped the sugary smile she had plastered on and returned to the same deadpan expression she’d been wearing since this conversation started. Kiba hoped she never found out just how scary he actually thought she looked like that. He would never hear the end of it.

“I am! So come on pleeeaaase? Please take my shift tomorrow! I will owe you so much!”

“Not a chance. I’ve got a date tomorrow and I am not cancelling. Maybe Choji will take pity on you?”

“Hmph. I hope you choke on Sakura’s tongue,” Kiba grumbled, snatching up his drink and stepping aside when he heard the bell over the door give a cheerful ring. When he came back from break he was so going to spill something on her and pretend it was an accident.

Without even bothering to check on who came in he bent down and scooped Akamaru off the floor. He was damn lucky the owner of their sleepy little café was so obsessed with dogs. Kakashi never minded if he brought Akamaru to work with him as long as the little guy didn’t cause any trouble with the customers. Holding his fluffy friend in one hand and a ridiculously sugary drink in the other, Kiba marched over to the most secluded seat available, stuffed his headphones in his ears, and pulled open the notes he’d made on his phone last week in class. Maybe if he read them over enough times at least half of it would stick in his brain and he wouldn’t fail the dumb test coming up.

Several customers came and went as he dutifully studied, some of them staying and others hurrying away with their precious caffeine the second it was ready. None of it registered on him. His ears were full of heavy metal and his head was full of the musculoskeletal system of an average housecat.

Being a veterinary assistant had better be worth it when he got there.

Akamaru yipped and licked at his ankle when Ino began to glare at the back of his head, the usual way he knew his break was up. With a heavy sigh he stood to slip his headphones back in his pocket and tie his work apron around his waist.

“Green tea frappuchino?” Ino was calling.

Patting his thigh to make sure Akamaru followed, he began to edge around the seats that had filled up while his head was buried in lecture notes.

“Green tea frappuchino!”

Kiba looked up in amusement at the sound of his coworker’s voice, not wanting to miss seeing the irritated face that would go along with her snippy tone. Most of the people working here were college age and constantly low on sleep but Ino was the most famous for her short temper. She was especially annoyed by people who couldn’t bother to wait for their order in the right place.

He was almost disappointed to have the show end early when she caught his eye and jerked her chin at a guy standing over by the fireplace, admiring the decorative pottery lined up on the mantle. Not much of him was visible other than bright red hair and an unseasonable sweater. The guy had to be half-mad at least to be wearing extra layers in this heat but Kiba wasn’t here to judge, he was here to serve people overly fancy drinks in the hopes of finally fulfilling the soul-words on his arm.

You will serve him at a café they said and so Kiba had dutifully gotten a job as a barista.

Not wanting Ino’s temper to turn on him before he earned it himself, Kiba hustled over to the counter, tossed his own empty cup in the bin, then scooped up the bright green drink and turned towards the fire place. The guy hadn’t moved much farther than the next piece of pottery.

“I think this is yours, man,” Kiba said from behind him. Akamaru skittered in front of the stranger and yipped a few times in greeting.

When he turned around Kiba very nearly dropped the plastic cup in his hand. It wasn’t just that he was gorgeous, smooth skin and sharp features – and a tattoo!? So cool – that rendered Kiba dumb and immobile. It was the instant connection as soon as they saw each other and the warmth on his arm which told him that he had done it. He’d found his soulmate after nearly six years of serving endless assholes their drinks.

“It’s you,” the guy breathed out in awe. His voice was low and raspy and so damn hot.

“Uh…do you want your drink?” Immediately he wanted to drop his face in to his hands. What a stupid thing to say! What idiotic first words! Kiba was half a second away from expiring due to sheer embarrassment when the guy denied him with a shake of his head.

“No, thank you. I don’t like green tea.”

“Then – wait, what? Why did you order something you don’t like?”

His answer was hidden under the guy’s sleeve, messy words scrawled in brown ink that read, He will greet you with green tea and a dog. Kiba couldn’t help it. He started to laugh.

“I guess that’s why you came in to a café called Pups’N’Cups, huh?”

“Yes. My name is Gaara.” His soulmate offered a bashful smile. “May I know yours?”

“Kiba. It’s really great to finally meet you, Gaara. Are you, by any chance, free this evening?” He couldn’t seem to quit staring at the vibrant red shade of Gaara’s hair or the cute little cacti dancing on the sleeves of his sweater.

Just as the other opened his mouth to answer Ino’s voice cut across him with a screech. “KIBA! Quit chatting up that poor sod and just give him the damn drink! Your break is over, loser!” He was spun around with his free fist shaking across the room at her with barely a thought.

“Can’t you see I’m meeting my soulmate over here?! Give a guy two seconds, damn!” Sticking out his tongue to drive his point home, he turned back to the conversation. “Sorry about that. She’s right though, I’m supposed to get back to work right now. Are you free later? Can I have your number? We should, like, go out some time.”

“Yes. I am free and I would very much like to get to know you. Kiba.” The little pause and the reverent way Gaara whispered his name was possibly the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

“Awesome. Great. Yeah, alright.”

Grinning stupidly, Kiba handed over his phone for Gaara to add himself in to the contacts list. Then he spent a few seconds just standing there taking in all the details he could. It was going to take some time before he got over the hair; he would have to remember to ask if it was natural. And he was definitely going to need the story behind that tattoo because it was the coolest thing ever and super hot. Kiba wondered if there were any other tattoos for him to find.

Waving goodbye and going back to work like normal was hard but at least he had something to look forward to at the end of his day now. They agreed to meet when his shift was finished and chat over a couple of whatever drinks Gaara actually enjoyed and then Kiba was slipping back behind the counter, practically glowing with happiness – to Ino’s obvious chagrin.

“So,” he drawled. “Any chance you’ll cover me for tomorrow now?”

“It’s still a no.”

“You are a heartless bitch, you know that?”

“Mhm.” Ino blew him a mocking kiss. “And you love me that way.”

He didn’t bother to deny it.

The rest of his day passed like molasses until finally he spent the last five minutes of shift loitering by the syrup fridge and staring at Gaara who had come back and was tentatively playing with Akamaru while he waited. Clearly they were meant to be.

When he sat down in the corner this time it was with two black coffees and the determination to memorize an entirely new kind of subject matter. He learned that Gaara lived most of his life in the desert and thought Konoha was cold even in the summer, that his tattoo was in memory of the hard times he’d seen in his younger years, that he had two siblings he’d reconnected with only just recently. All this and more he absorbed and when they parted ways they shared a kiss and he learned one more thing.

This was love.

[kyloren]

Mileven post-S2 fanfiction recommendation list: PART IV

This is a continuation of my ever-growing Mileven Fanfiction Rec List (see instalments I, II, and III). If your fanfic isn’t featured, apologies. Message me and we’ll amend that grievance in the next rec list instalment. 

* marks the ongoing stories. 

canon: 

interludes by veausy: “They stood like that, dimly lit by the hallway lamp, until Hopper cleared his throat. “Mike,” she breathed.” 

+ its sequel: idylls by veausy: ““You should get a Mike,” El offered. Didn’t everyone have one?” 

snowbound by hannahberrie: “When El invites Mike to spend the day at the cabin, Hopper finds himself supervising a sleepover he didn’t sign up for.” 

.. ._.. ___ …_ . _.__ ___ .._ (i love you) by AriaCessair: “El wants to learn about kisses, but the end result is much more than she expected.” 

anything short of a miracle by youheldyourbreath: “Mike has spent the last year in abject agony over losing Eleven. And then, he gets her back.” 

the 436 kiss by youheldyourbreath: “Mike and El have 435 kisses that are short, sweet and perfunctory. Kiss 436 is not that kind of embrace.” 

we were just kids when by DarkBeauty_890: “Hopper arches a brow, giving Mike a once over. He sucks in another puff of his cigarette, before stubbing it out and scratching his nose, “Elle’s not here. She and Red went out to go see a movie about an hour ago.” Mike clears his throat and doesn’t break their locked gaze, “I’m actually here because I wanted to talk to you.”” 

the invasion* by ValBirch: “Hawkins, 1985. On the day of her first birthday in Hawkins, El starts having nosebleeds, even when she’s not using her powers. That night, Will’s nightmares return, but they’re different this time. Everything is different this time.” 

winter, spring, summer, fall* by returntosaturn: “A collection of first experiences for El during her first year in Hawkins, outside of the lab.” 

radio static* by Archer of Ecclesia : ““Mike,” El had scarcely noticed her seizure of the radio. Garble filled her ears. Her grip around the radio tightened as she quickly switched it off, breathing shallowly. She almost threw the device across the room when the garble continued, and worsened, more severe than ever. Or, a new creature lurks in Hawkins, Indiana, this time, closer to home than ever.” 

to find you again* by MuffinLove03: “Finding her was only the beginning. In a town still vulnerable to inter-dimensional threats and sketchy government agents, it's going to take a lot to keep her safe and bring her home. But he was prepared to do whatever it took. He promised.” 

the artemis institute* by Arnarkusaga: “Starting from the night the gate was closed and detailing the events that follow, including unexpected doings at the Hawkin’s Lab, and a mysterious underground resistance movement.” 

kissing cousins by pathvain_aelien: “Mr. Clarke at the Snow Ball.” 

+ its sequel: eleven’s story* by pathvain_aelien. 

snowed in by luxuriousvoyage11: “A bad snow storm makes for an unexpected sleepover at the Byers.” 

only this by Val_Creative: “Eleven and Mike and their relationship through Hopper’s eyes.” 

a ghostly encounter* by PlaidDino: “The boys (and Max) go Trick-Or-Treating on Halloween, but these Ghostbusters find themselves being followed by someone in a ghost costume.” 

the best night of your life by wheezy: “Her lips are parted in an almost smile and Mike sends a prayer he won’t have to wait 353 days to kiss them ever again.” 

funny business by rainingcatsandkisses: ““On one condition” Hopper had said when El had asked if Mike could walk her home instead. “You come straight home. I’ll be waiting at the turn by Pinewood. And,” he’d added darkly, staring at Mike, “No funny business from you, Mr. Wheeler. I will know.”” 

i think we’re alone now by cali-chan (girls_are_weird): ““Listen, I’m no t supposed to leave you two alone here. Hopper will have my head if he finds out, so just… behave, okay?”” 

day two hundred and five by Someone_else_before: “In which Mike has a birthday, El has a daydream, and Hopper says, “Soon.”” 

eleven, mike, and the flu by loti_miko: “She quickly put the blindfold over her eyes, her surroundings going dark, and in an instant she was at Mike’s. He had his eyes closed; his cheeks flushed bright pink, a colour quite distinguishable even in the darkness of The Void.” 

el byers and the secret crush by Someone_else_before: “Eleven moves in with the Byers’, learns to adapt to ordinary Hawkins life, and tries to figure out why Mike has been acting so oddly since their kiss in the cafeteria.” [post S1] 

+ its sequel: dustin henderson and the secret crush by Someone_else_before:��“Dustin is head over heels for a girl in his class, and he asks Eleven to use her powers to help him in his quest to win her over.” 

stay in the dark by ceruleanstorm: “Mike’s waited 23 days to see Eleven again after she saved the damn world. But there’s a big reason El isn’t as excited to see him.” 

pretty scary, pretty good by nonoma: “His girl’s going to be the scariest girl at Hawkins High.” 

behind enemy lines by therealfarklenation: “He was stepping behind enemy lines, praying he wouldn’t get caught. She welcomed the risk with opened arms, praying that he wouldn’t stop.” 

the first summer* by Kiddo7: “It’s the gang’s first summer all together, and Mike can’t wait to show El all that it has to offer.” 

prepping for high school* by DarknessFallsLikeFeathers: “Mike is excited to be able to go see El at the cabin and help her with her studies. However, summer break is around the corner and a new challenge shows up on their doorstep.” [I, personally, am on the fence about how I feel about this fic: it’s interesting, but it also is featuring an OC quite prominently, so…*shrugs* take that as you will.] 

green-eyed eleven by Brown Eyes Parker: “Eleven experiences her first bout of jealousy when a new girl moves to town.” [from a post-S2 hindsight, this is really funny. it’s funny cause it’s true.]  

not knowing what it was by 27vampyresinhermind: “We were just kids when we fell in love, not knowing what it was.” 

you feel it too* by Maiasaura: “Mike and Eleven were more alike than they knew. Mike had been broken for years, and Eleven broken her whole life. The events of November, 1983 only fully destroyed them both, and a year apart only further drove the wedge.” [beware: this one is super depressing. like, all the content warnings apply.] 

alternative universe: 

roller coaster day by SmoothFluffle: “She was beginning to doubt herself as she listened to the anxious boy in a cap list the most atrocious accidents that happened to people while being on the metal ride. Suddenly, she wondered if this roller coaster thing was such a good idea.” No Supernatural AU. 

cigarettes, eggos, and the secrets between us* by salavibes: “Popular, high-school bad-boy, Mike Wheeler finds himself falling for the shy and nerdy new girl who’s hiding a deep secret. Will they ever set aside their strikingly different personalities and pursue a relationship? Also what happens when they begin to both change each other in ways they never expected?” bad-boy!Mike AU. 

crossover: 

may the force be with you* by serendipitous_rambles: “El has always dreamt of seeing the galaxy but simply can’t leave Tatooine. But she has powers she doesn’t even know she has. Yet plans have been discovered of a Death Star that could result in the deaths of millions. Along the way she meets a smuggler called Mike, and some trusty resistance pilots Will and Lucas, along with their engineering best friend Dustin (who just can’t get his droid Steve to shut up). An adventure in a galaxy far far away with rebellion, hope (and a disgruntled old Jedi Hopper).” Stranger Things x Star Wars AU. 

the second coming* by TheDevotchka: “In 1983, the so-called ‘Loser’s Club’ defeated It, a monster who had plagued the town of Derry for millennia. In 1984, the new Librarian of the Hawkins Public Library makes a series of phone-calls after the suspicious and unpleasantly familiar disappearances of three children. Seasoned monster hunters, the Loser’s Club teams up with another group of unlikely heroes — Mike, Dustin, Lucas, and Will.” Stranger Things x It Crossover. [okay, so I lied. This one isn’t really Mileven…so far.] 

+ bonus: Wherein Mileven are not quite Pure™: 

sex ed by Phantasmoplast: “El hears a new word for the first time, and decides to ask Mike what it means.” 

+ its smutty outtakes: sex ed chapter 5: shower and sex ed chapter 8: homework. 

dessert by wynniethecat: “When El teases Mike under the dinner table, he decides he needs to teach her a lesson about proper table etiquette.” 

+ you know, if you want aged-up!Mileven smut, just go check out wynniethecat’s profile. She has tons of it. 

+ bonus 2: Wherein The Party is prominently featured: 

you fight like a baby(sitter) by nicefacepotter: “With his reputation ruined, Steve’s main source of social interaction is a group of middle schoolers. Now that group of nerds wanted him in their D&D campaign. What did he get himself into?” 

in the aftermath it is quiet (as we wait for everything to begin again) by Dontfloatthe100: ““So,” Steve says as he scrapes the last of the eggs off his plate, “you must be Eleven.” El nods as she finishes up her own. “Hmm. I thought you would be taller.””  

fun with jim and jane* by clarabelle: ““Mouth breather, huh? Another new word you picked up?” “No,” El says, and she sounds almost wistful. Probably thinking about that Wheeler kid again.” 

time and time again by sporadicallyceaseless: “Five times Chief Hopper gets called into the school because his kid is a goddamn menace.” 

20 questions by liadan14: “A few questions Eleven asked before she turned eighteen, and one she didn’t.” 

+ its sequel: just can’t face myself alone again by liadan14: “Dustin and his friends grow up in fits and starts. These are a few of them.” 

don’t lock her in by SmoothFluffle: “El gets locked in inside a school closet.” 

.

.

imma gonna be making these till i’m old and grey, aren’t i?

UPDATE: part V is out.

[eddie--kaspbrat]

Piece by Piece

WhY am I posting this on here when I post it on Ao3 iDK But YEAH

Richie/Eddie fanfiction u H u Totally listen to this to make the immersion better 

Warnings: Richies shitty parents, alcoholism (Richies mom), parent death, adoption.

Description: Super fluffy tooth rotting sweet, with a little angst, but mostly just Richie and Eddie lovin g each other so much........

"    But piece by piece he collected me Up off the ground but you abandoned things And piece by piece he filled the holes that you burned in me At six years old and you know He never walks away He never asks for money He takes care of me He loves me"  

Eddie was always patient.  

He may be short and feisty, he may have the language that would make a sailor blush, but inside Eddie was patient.  

Eddie was kind, understanding and patient. He never complained when Richie would come up to his front door, covered in bruises and mud, snort and tears running down his face. He would just bring him inside and hold him tightly. Eddie would make him a hot drink and wrap him in a blanket, washing the blood away with a warm cloth and whispering how he didn't deserve anything that had happened to him.  

Eddie was the only one he trusted to know fully about his family. He had no choice really, they were too close for it to be a secret. Richie remembers calling Eddie that fateful day, his crying making his voice crackly and hoarse as he told him what happened. His father had left the house, leaving only a note saying he hoped Richie's mother would choke on her own vomit, and a lump sum of money.  

Eddie was there. He left in the middle of his history lesson and biked all the way over. Richie remembers with a soft smile that Eddie needed his asthma pump as soon as his feet touched the ground. The two of them cleaned the house and got rid of the empty liquor bottles silently, both not knowing what to do. Richie had never mourned for the loss of his father in his life, he wasn't in it enough for that. All he felt was worry. The money would only last so long until his mother had to get a job, and Richie knew deep inside she wouldn't. He'd have to.  

Eddie had gotten him his first job. He fixed his curly black hair and straightened his tie, wiping a smudge off his cheek before ushering him inside to the chemist. Eddie was already working there and had recommended him, the next day Richie got a call telling him he had the job.  

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.  

Everything Richie had was thanks to Eddie.  

He kept Richie strong, he kept him on his feet. Even on the days where he wouldn't get out of bed, Eddie would push and shove to get him up. Even if it resulted in Richie saying some hasty things, Eddie was always there. He always knew when not to push, too. Some days when it was too bad, Eddie would just crawl into bed with him.  

It was no surprise to anyone when they officially started dating at the innocent age of seventeen.  

At eighteen, they moved out into a ratty little apartment. The two of them vowed to be finished with their parents, and spend their time in a rundown, one-bedroom apartment. To them, it was perfect.  

When was nineteen, he found out he was going to be a brother.  

His mother was on and off with Richie's father now. She was pregnant now, she was six months along when Richie finally found out. He spent that night yelling on the phone to his father, asking him where was he going to be in this child's life. Richie crawled into bed with Eddie's arms tight around him, crying into his lover's shoulder as his father's words echoed in his mind and heart.  

"I don't want this kid, and I never wanted you either! Your mother and yourself can deal with this!"  

At twenty years old, Richie had to deal with his mother's death. She died giving birth to his little sister, bleeding out in the hospital moments after. Richie remembered the sorrow in Eddie's eyes as Richie cried into his shoulder. He didn't know what was going to happen.   The doctor had come in an hour later. He asked where his sisters father was.  

"I wish I knew myself" Richie had snorted between tears. He remembers his heart stop when the doctor said his sister would then be sent for adoption if there were no parents, and Eddie had spoken up before he could say anything.  

"We'll take her"

At twenty-one, they finally won custody of his sister, Jennifer Ann Tozier, their father not showing even under court order. She was six months old when she was brought into Eddie and Richie's new home. Mike Hanson had sold his parents summer home to them, even offering to help with the bills until they could get themselves settled.    

Richie remembers Eddie and him never holding each other closer than they had that night. They both shed tears as they basked in their love and victory. They had beaten their parents, they were going to give little Jennifer a life where she could have two loving parents to go to. A life Richie was never able to have.  

Now Richie is twenty-two, sitting on the porch and watching as Eddie holds onto Jenny's chubby little hands as she starts taking clumsy steps.  

"There you go," Eddie crooned softly as she giggled, foots landing heavy on the floor, "You'll have your brother and I running after you in no time!"  

Richie smiled from where he sat. They had both agreed that they wouldn't raise Jennifer under the idea that Eddie and him were her parents, but her brother and brother-in-law. They wanted her to learn that you don't need parents to have a real family.  

"We have a real fucking pro on our hands, Eds!" Richie announced with a proud grin. He stood up and bounced over to where Jennifer was, causing her to erupt into laughter, "Isn't that right little sis? Just like your big brother! Fantastic at everything!"

"If her first words are swears, I swear to god I will staple your mouth shut for the rest of your life!" Eddie grumbled, quickly holding onto Jennifer's hands a little tighter as she stumbled.  

Richie couldn't help but snicker and roll his eyes, "You tell me off for swearing, yet here you are offering a good time!"  

The laughter that came from Eddie still caused Richie's cheeks to burn, no matter how long they had been together, Eddie's laugh was always a weakness for him. He pushed his glasses up the bride of his nose bashfully before crouching down to scoop Jennifer into arms.  

Her hazel eyes glittered as she looked up to Richie, her chubby little face holding a huge smile as she patted her brothers face. Richie pressed a loud kiss to the top of her head, upon the same mess of black curls that Richie inherited from their mother.  

"Come on, lets head inside. It looks like it might start raining, plus it's your turn to make dinner!" Eddie snickered, linking his arm with Richie's free one. They both laughed as Jennifer stuck out her tongue.  

It was four months later, and it was Jennifer's second birthday. She had her black hair tied up into two little pigtails and wore a shirt with a shark on it and a purple skirt, and everyone adored her. Especially Bill, who Richie couldn't help but snicker when he saw Bill whisper things to Stan who would blush bright red. It wasn't a secret that Bill wanted kids one day.  

Richie had some of his aunties and uncles over as well, the ones that still wanted to keep in touch. Eddie even brought some of his family, and the both of them invited their friends from work. It turned out to be a pretty big gathering, and everyone was having fun. Laughing and dancing and partying with little Jenny.  

Richie though, Richie was nervous. He felt the satin box heavy in his jacket pocket, the weightless item feeling like a brick. Bev was close by him, squeezing his hand every time his foot would start tapping furiously at the floor. For the past two years he had wanted to marry Eddie. In the last four, he finally saved enough to get a small silver band, a small white diamond embedded in the center. He had also written a song to sing. Mostly for Eddie, but for Ella too. It was a cheesy love song, and he still wasn't completely sure about it, but he was out of time.  

What he didn't expect though, was to hear loud knocks coming from the front door. Everyone they invited had showed up, no one else was supposed to come. His anxiety got to him as he walked over, wondering if any neighbors had complained about the noise.  

"Good evening, welcome to the-!

Richie's voice cut off as he looked at the man in front of him. Heavy bags hung under his dark brown eyes, grey hair swept back messily. He wore a black suit, a briefcase in the other. The man looked like he had just come here from work.  

He looked like Richie.  

"Gregory" Richie spoke curtly to him. His eyes burned with fury as his father coughed awkwardly, "What are you doing here?"

Gregory shifted on his feet while trying to peek over Richie's shoulder, "Hello to you too, son. I'm here to see my-

"She is not your daughter, so don't even think of saying that!" Richie finally hissed, his knuckles going white as he held onto the door, "You leave before you even knew mom was pregnant, you do nothing for us, you weren't even at her funeral!"  

His father winced

"Richard, I was working. I'm sorry for your mother, but it was bound to happen with how she drank," Gregory tried to explain, but his voice wavered when he met Richie's eyes, "I... I should have been there."

If Richie could muster any more venom into his voice, he would have, "Yeah, you should have. Now give me one good reason to not kick you out and call the police."

Even Richie was surprised slightly at himself at the threat yet he held himself strong, he could do this. He wouldn't let his father intimidate him anymore.  

"… let me see her once, and I'll write a cheque out. Enough to put her into a good school. Please, Richard, then I'll leave you both alone." The man sighed, keeping hazel eyes locked onto Richie's. The same eyes as his little sister.  

As much as he wanted to throw his father out, the idea was promising. Eddie and Richie did stress about her education, and having his father pay for that would let them focus on saving for college.  

Richie grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose, just under his glasses, "Fine. Stay for as long as you want, but do not let her know you're her father. You'll just confuse her. She only knows me as her big brother, and Eddie as... I dunno what she thinks Eddie is. Eddie is my boyfriend as well, so if you have a problem with that, keep it to yourself."

With that Richie turned around and walked away, letting his father walk himself in. Richie walked straight to the lounge where he saw Eddie and one of his colleagues bitching about another one, snickering and whispering.  

Eddie smiled when he saw Richie come towards him, but that bright smile faltered when he saw the lifelessness in Richie's eyes. Their colleague seemed to notice the mood and excused himself to get a drink, leaving the two of them alone.  

"Rich, what's wrong?" Eddie murmured when Richie sat next to him, pulling him towards him so Richie could put his head on Eddie's shoulder. Richie sighed and nuzzled under his jaw, enjoying the comforting scent of his boyfriend. Like cake and dish soap.  

"My dad's here. He wants to meet Jennifer," Richie stated, feeling Eddie's shoulders tense up underneath his cheek.  

"…What did you say?" Eddie murmured, wrapping an arm around Richie's shoulder to hold onto him, grounding the both of them.  

"He said he'd pay for her schooling if I agreed, so I did," Richie sighed, closing his eyes tightly, "Eds did I fuck up?"

Eddie cooed and held Richie tighter, pressing a kiss to his curly hair, "No, you didn't fuck up. This is for Jenny's sake, you're an amazing big brother. Just don't be a trashmouth for now, okay?"  

Richie couldn't but snicker, leaning up from Eddie's shoulder to meet his boyfriend's warm brown eyes, "No promises there, babe. Now that the devils here, lets... lets cheek this place up a bit, yeah? I'm gonna grab my guitar, bring Jenny over with everyone else."  

Even though Eddie looked confused, he agreed and got up from his seat on the couch (not before kissing Richie quickly) and walked towards the garage where everyone was enjoying the music.  

Richie's heart was hammering in his chest as he retreated to their room to grab his childhood guitar, his best friend's scribbly signatures still littering the wooden box. It was his second favourite thing, Eddie and Jenny being tied for first.  

When Richie returned, he saw Jenny sitting in Eddie's lap, his father a couple spots away. Jenny clapped her hands together when she saw Richie, clapping even faster when she spotted the guitar.  

"Rich sing, Rich sing!" She squealed, Eddie hushing her slightly as everyone in the room laughed at her little outburst. Richie smiled and ruffled her hair before sitting down across from them, her eagerness and joy contagious.  

"Now," Richie coughed, tuning his guitar as he talked "There was another song I was going to sing, but something kinda showed up, so now I'm going to sing something a bit more...appropriate. This is for my Eddie, and someone else in this room who knows exactly who they are; and for my little sister."  

Eddie smiled at Richie encouragingly, mouthing the words 'Go trashmouth' at him with a grin. Richie couldn't help grinning back if he even tried.  

Richie took a deep breath and pressed his fingers against the string, finally starting to sing,

"And all I remember is your back Walking towards the airport, leaving us all in your past I traveled fifteen hundred miles to see you Begged you to want me, but you didn't want to,"

Richie saw his father's dive to the ground, and Richie felt slightly proud. Now it was his father's time to listen to him.  

"But piece by piece he collected me Up off the ground where you abandoned things, yeah Piece by piece he filled the holes That you burned in me at six years old And you know, He never walks away He never asks for money, He takes care of me He loves me Piece by piece he restored my faith"

Richie's eyes moved from his fathers, to meet Eddie's tear brimmed eyes,  

"That a man can be kind and a father could... stay..."

Richie kept singing, his small little audience captivated by his words. Richie was pouring all his emotions into those words. He never dreamed he'd be able to sing this song with his father to hear them, he wrote this song months only after Jenny was born.  

Towards the songs last chorus, Richie stood up. Eyes followed him, and his heart pounded. His eyes met onto his fathers, his stare so vicious and cold that he knew his father wouldn't be able to look away.  

"Piece by piece I fell far from the tree I will never leave her like you left me And she will never have to wonder her worth Because unlike you I'm going to put her first And you know,"

Richie's eyes started to water as he saw his father's face completely crumble. Maybe now he would realise what he had done.  

This wasn't for him though. They broke eye contact, Richie's eyes now looking at Eddie. He looked at those red, puffy eyes. Tears streamed down his freckle dusted cheeks, teeth chewing on his bottom lip to contain himself. He looked at that chocolate brown hair, smooth with a slight wave in the locks. Sunshine made his hair glow like a halo around him, making him look somehow warmer than he already was.  

Richie felt his own tears fall behind his glasses now. He walked towards Eddie, Beverly swooping in to quickly take Jenny from his lap. Beverly and Richie had talked about this, she knew exactly what was about to happen.  

"He'll never walk away, He'll never break her heart He'll take care of things, He'll love her And piece by piece he'll restore my faith That a man can be kind and a father should be... great"

Richie choked on his last word as he dropped to one knee, putting his guitar on the floor as he took Eddie's shaking hands in his own. He squeezed them tight.  

He held onto his hands as tight as Eddie had held his through all those years.  

"Edward Kaspbrak," Richie started softly, sniffling when Eddie breathed a laugh at his full name, "Eds, Eddie Spaghetti, my little Spageddie, God knows what I'd be without you. You've been my best friend all my life, you've grown with me and support me through every little piece of shit that was thrown at us."

Richie had to take a breath as his voice started to break again when he heard a hiccupped sob coming from the man in front of him.  

"Even when we'd yell and fight with each other, every single time you wouldn't leave without kissing my forehead. When I was younger, I thought this was fucking stupid, but now I see why you did it. You wanted to show that I wouldn't leave, that you wouldn't run off like everyone else in my life."

Eddie's fingers ran through Richie's black curls, before lowering down to hold onto Richie's face so tenderly. His thumb brushed across his pale cheek to wipe the tears that fell past his thick glasses.  

"You helped me become the man I am today. We've been together through thick and thin, and now I know we won't ever be apart. We'll be a family, You, Jenny and I. So, Edward Spaghetti Kaspbrak, will you do me the honor of spending the rest of your life with little ol' me?"

The room burst into claps and shrieks of excitement as Eddie wailed 'Yes!' And tackled Richie onto the floor. They both laughed and held onto each other so tightly, their lips pressed together in a passionate kiss. Neither of them would ever getting over kissing each other. Once their lips parted, Richie sat up and held Eddie in his lap, foreheads pressed together.  

"I love you so much, Eds" Richie murmured to him, kissing Eddie again softly.  

"I love you more, Rich," Eddie murmured, stroking his cheeks as he kissed him again, "And I'll be here every day to prove it to you."  

When the celebrating was over, Richie held Jennifer tight in his arms. She had her cheek pressed to his shoulder, drooling as she slept. He kissed her forehead as she lowered her into her bed, tucking her in right next to her stuffed teddy. Richie felt the cheque in his pocket, heavy like the ring was. It easily covered Jenny's schooling fees, plus a little extra. His father had written a small note.  

"I'm sorry. I hope you and your fiancée are happy together, son. Be well."

He hadn't stayed long after the song.  

"Sleep well, little sis," Richie smiled as he flicked the light off with a smile. Closing the door quietly, he turned and saw Eddie waiting for him against the wall. His eyes gravitated towards the silver band on Eddie's finger.  

"And how is my lovely, oh so amazing and short fiancée?" Richie chuckled as Eddie walked towards him, the other man looping his arms around Richie's waist. Eddie just rolled his eyes, leaning into the hug as Richie held onto his hips lightly.  

"Tired and now annoyed that you called me short," Eddie huffed, taking Richie's larger hand in his. Richie's heart fluttered as their fingers entwined. Eddie wasn't annoyed for long when he saw Richie smile, looking up to meet those dark brown eyes, "So let's go to bed, fiancée. We have a busy few months ahead of us."

[rawaabeauty]

26 beauty tips Makeup Routine: Beauty hacks for Busy Moms

Life as a working mom has motivated me to undertake out plenty of beauty hacks for busy moms over the years, and I’ve come up with some quick and dirty beauty tips to form myself look good in less time. Whether I stay awake too late binge-watching my favorite shows on Netflix, press the snooze button one too repeatedly, forget to pack my daughter’s lunch the night before, or another disaster strikes, mornings are always hectic in our household, and these beauty hacks help me look and feel more put together than I am.

How to Prolong a Hair Wash A collection of beauty hacks for busy moms wouldn’t be complete without tips and tricks to combat greasy, dirty hair. Why? Fortunately, there are certain belongings you can do to assist make dirty hair look clean in record-breaking time. Here are 3 of my favorites!

Use dry shampoo before bed: most of the people use dry shampoo within the morning, and while that strategy helps take in hair oils, I’ve found it far more effective. Brush and blow-dry: If you would like to stretch your hair wash even further, you'll be got to apply a touch extra dry shampoo once you awaken. provides it a touch of favor together with your hand blower. Embrace the messy bun: I even have friends who can go 3, 4, and sometimes 5 days in between shampoos, but I’m not that lucky. My hair is just too light and shows grease like nobody’s business. the great news is that I’ve mastered the messy bun, which offers a wonderful (and stylish) alternative when dry shampoo just won’t cut it.

How to Hide Gray Hair I recently celebrated my 40th birthday and decided to treat myself to my first set of blonde highlights to cover all of the silver streaks that have haunted residence on my head. But before this momentous event, I had quite a few tricks I wont to hide gray hair which was relatively successful. Here are the three hair hacks I swear by:

Change your hair part: Sounds too easy to be true, I know, but parting your hair on the other side of your head, or embracing a messy part, can sometimes help hide gray hair. I find this strategy also goes an extended way in prolonging a hair cut because it adds a touch of change and helps hide split ends! Touch up with eyeshadow: If you’re thanks to getting your roots dyed but don’t have time to form it to the salon, apply a matte eyeshadow an equivalent shade of your hair to your part employing a makeup brush. Works wonders! Invest during a good touch-up product: If your gray strands and roots are unresponsive to a replacement hair part and/or a touch eyeshadow, consider investing during a good touch-up product. There are tons of great ones out there, but my hairstylist and that I prefer the COLOR WOW Root cover because it adheres to the hair without feeling oily or sticky and it's very natural.

How to Hide Puffy Eyes and Minimize Wrinkles Chronic sleep deprivation and parental worry combined with plenty of tickling and laughter mean one thing: puffy eyes with many wrinkles. Seems pretty unfair, I know, but there are many belongings you can do behind the scenes to form your blinkers look younger.

Apply copra oil before bed: We all know copra oil is sweet for practically everything (right?), and it seems it's anti-aging properties also. Massage a little portion into the world around your eyes to assist reduce the looks of crow’s feet, fine lines, and dark under-eye circles. Reduce puffiness with tea ice cubes: The anti-inflammatory benefits of tea can do wonders for hiding puffy eyes. Simply brew a batch of concentrated tea and pour into cube trays, then wrap a few of frozen cubes with a dish towel and apply to tired, swollen eyes for fast relief. Moisturize before makeup: As an additional safeguard, invest during a good under eye moisturizer and apply it underneath your concealer to scale back swelling, smooth skin, and stop your concealer from getting trapped within the fine lines around your eyes. I swear by La Roche Posay’s Hydraphase Hyaluronic Under Eye Puffiness Cream. Use a hydrating concealer: When it involves hiding under-eye circles and minimizing the looks of wrinkles, not all concealers are created an equivalent. Find a moisture-rich formula like Estee Lauder’s Waterproof Extreme Concealer and gently pat it onto your under-eye area using your annualry for max coverage.

How to Get Beach Waves Fast While beach waves appear as if a fast and straightforward hairstyle for lazy summer afternoons, learning the way to get perfect waves may be a process in and of itself. the great news is that there are plenty of belongings you can do to urge sexy beach waves without the fuss. Here are 3 simple things that have helped transformed my hair during the summer months:

Invest during a good texturizing spray: Contrary to popular belief, the key to sexy beach waves has nothing to try to to with technique. the simplest curling wand within the world won’t be supplying you with perfectly imperfect tousled hair unless you prep your locks with one important product: texturizing spray. Perfect for creating volume and lovely waves that last, a product like Bumble and Bumble’s Surf Spray may be a game-changer when it involves sexy summer hairstyles. Learn the scarf technique: This no-heat technique leads to gorgeous curls that look professionally done. All you've got to try to do is place a headscarf on your head and twist strands of your hair around the headband. Leave it certain a couple of hours, or maybe better, roll in the hay it like that overnight. inspect the Cosmos Stretchy Cotton Sports Headbands – they’re cheap and cheery and obtain the work done! Try braiding your hair then pressing your flat iron over the top of the braid(s) to hurry up the ‘curling’ process. It’s surprisingly effective!

Nail Hacks Every Girl Should Know There’s nothing like getting to the salon to urge a mani. It’s relaxing, fun, and you get to be pampered and primped, but it’s also time-consuming and expensive, and much of the moms often skip this luxury altogether. the great news is that there are plenty of great nail hacks you'll use to urge an ideal DIY polish application from the comfort of your house.

Prep nails with white distilled vinegar to form polish last: Before you apply your base coat, clean your nails with white distilled vinegar. Not only will it last longer, but your polish also will continue smoother for flawless looking nails. Cover cuticles with Elmer’s Glue: Sounds crazy, I know, but if you apply non-toxic Elmer’s Glue to your cuticles before applying polish, you'll remove all imperfections post-polish to make sure a particular application every single time. Prevent chips by applying an additional topcoat: Before applying your topcoat everywhere your nails, apply a layer just to the ideas for added protection as that’s the part of your nails that tends to chip most. Sally Hansen’s Insta-Dri Chip-Resistant Top Coat always seems to last the longest with my nails. If you would like your polish to dry super fast, dip your nails in cold water post-polish. It works!

How to Draw Perfect Eyebrows Every Single Time The “in” shape may change, and one year they could be bushier and thicker than others, but one thing is for sure: perfectly shaped eyebrows can make an enormous difference for your face, and everybody has taken notice. inspect these eyebrow hacks for perfectly defined brows!

Get the right eyebrow arch using the spoon trick: If you struggle to draw natural-looking eyebrows, this eyebrow hack is for you. Place the spoon bowl-side down underneath your eyebrows with the tip of the spoon pointing towards your nose, and use the sting of the spoon as a guide to assist draw your eyebrows with an outlined makeup just like the ANASTASIA Beverly Hills Brow Whiz. Genius! Hide imperfections with concealer: If your brows didn’t end up precisely the way you wanted them to, or you’re overdue for an eyebrow wax, you'll hide imperfections with a touch little bit of concealer and a little makeup brush (I find the Sigma Beauty Flat Definer E15 brush works perfectly). I find this method gives away a more defined look, which is ideal for an evening on the town with the women. Make them pop with white liner: If you would like to offer your brows an additional lift, add a touch white eyeliner above and below your brows and blend. Don’t have a white liner, or find it too bright? BENEFIT COSMETICS offers a good better alternative with their High Brow Glow pencil. Smooth unruly eyebrows with Vaseline: if you’re pressed for time and can’t attract your brows, you'll still give them a refined look with a dab of Vaseline followed by an honest comb together with your favorite eyebrow spoolie.

While the daytime smokey eye may be a look many folks would like to sport on the daily, few folks have that sort of your time (or skill). the great news is that there are plenty of eyeshadow hacks you'll use to form your eyes pop with little to no effort. Here are 5 of my favorites:

Prime your eyes: Before you apply eyeshadow or eyeliner to your lids, apply an honest eyeshadow primer (I swear by Urban Decay’s Eyeshadow Primer Potion) for a smoother application and all-day wear. Invest within the right brushes: If you struggle to duplicate all of the eyeshadow looks you see on YouTube, it’s probably because you don’t have the proper brushes. While drugstore brands get the work done, high-end brushes allow better product application and blending for a flawless, professional-looking finish. The Sigma Beauty Basic Eyes Kit may be an excellent spot to start – it's all of the essentials at an honest price! when you’re short on time but still want to seem presentable. Applying white or nude eyeliner to your lower waterline will make your eyes look bigger and more awake. Learn the eyelash curler trick for perfect eyeliner: If you struggle to use eyeliner, Wayne Goss has you covered together with his eyelash curler trick. It takes a touch of practice, but you’ll be happy once you master it!

[wineanddinosaur]

Can WhistlePig’s Eccentric Founder Do the Same Thing for Armagnac That He Did for Rye Whiskey?

“It fires a core passion in me to find things rare and exquisite that happen to be overlooked and then bring them back to life,” says Raj Bhakta.

Bhakta famously started the WhistlePig whiskey brand in 2008, buying up more than 5,000 gallons of well-aged Canadian rye barrels well before most people knew that was a savvy play. Today, the Shoreham, Vt.-based company is considered the No. 1 producer of luxury rye, integral in reviving a once-forgotten category that now sells over 1.2 million cases per year. Unfortunately, Bhakta had always courted controversy over the years — which often led to plenty of press for his antics — but that finally caught up with him when WhistlePig’s board of directors forced him to sell off his share of the company in 2019. I thought that was the last time I would ever hear from Bhakta — who had even claimed he had retired from the spirits industry in 2017 — but this summer he is returning to the business with a most interesting play.

“For two years I was on the lookout for new opportunities,” he tells me. “Armagnac happened almost by accident.”

Bhakta first began paying attention to the esoteric spirit in 2017 when WhistlePig had taken The Boss Hog, its priciest and most limited-edition rye, and finished that year’s release in Armagnac barrels. Dubbed the Black Prince, it won best overall whiskey at the San Francisco World Spirits Competition. And, yet, Armagnac — think of it like Cognac’s earthier-tasting, more artisan little brother — was still not exactly something people cared about in America. “When I first started selling it, six, seven years ago, it was hard as fuck [to sell],” says Nicolas Palazzi, owner of PM Spirits, a Brooklyn-based spirits importer with several Armagnacs in its portfolio. Back then, he told me, it might take him 18 months to sell a single cask’s worth. “And it’s still hard; nothing really has changed when it comes to Armagnac,” he adds.

Last year Bhakta was on what he calls a “global tour of finding,” traveling the world, mainly looking for intriguing barrels of whiskey and rum. For six months, often with his family (wife Danhee and three small kids) in tow, he traveled to Scotland, India, the Philippines, and the Caribbean. Eventually he worked his way to the countryside of southwestern France. He asked BNIA (Bureau National Interprofessionnel de l’Armagnac) if it knew anyone looking to sell casks. And from there?

“I basically started knocking on doors,” says Bhakta. Though, many of these farmers didn’t know what to make of the brash American who had shipped an Escalade over to France to use as the family car — and who claims he would arrive at these dignified chateaus jokingly blaring “Be Our Guest” from “Beauty and the Beast” over his sound system.

Finally, he found a fifth-generation, family-run Armagnac house that may very well have had the oldest collection in all of the region — more than 100 casks they’d amassed over the last century and throughout many generations. It would be hard to link these casks to any specific producers, certainly none most people have heard of as they’d been purchased from hundreds of different farmer-distillers over the last hundred years. The owner had some health issues and needed to move them for some quick cash. “So I bought them all — lock, stock, and barrel — with the chateau to boot,” says Bhakta.

About half of the casks he sent back to his farm in Vermont, just a stone’s throw away from the WhistlePig farm. There, he plans to start growing his own grapes and producing his own brandy within the next year or two, using a refurbished, wood-fired still. Back in Condom, France, he is refurbishing the Hotel de Cugnac chateau and putting together some blends, though he plans for both these locations to be humble non-public operations, not like the “Disneylands” other distilleries eventually become.

Bhakta wouldn’t give me exact numbers, but he claims he has spent a “significant portion” of his WhistlePig nest egg on starting the new company, Bhakta Spirits. As you can imagine, it’s not cheap to refurbish 200-year-old chateaus and buy 150-year-old barrels; he claims just a single cask from 1868 would break down to costing him thousands of dollars per bottle. This whole selling Armagnac thing doesn’t particularly seem like an easy way to make money.

“I have definitely wondered, ‘Why do this?’” he says. “But I feel I have a very comprehensive view of the world of spirits and I’m very well placed to be able to deliver to consumers the very best value in the world of spirits. And that’s why I put my name on it.”

Bhakta 50, as his first release will be called, is a blend composed of barrels from eight different vintages ranging from 1868 to 1970 (the “50” refers to its age statement). The blend is then put into smoky, Islay Scotch casks and then finally into a fresh cask that has previously held young Armagnac. Bhakta feels that this technique “freshens up” the old spirit, adding some bright notes — though, technically, these finishes do make it lose its “Armagnac” appellation.

The 500 or so bottles of this first release will only be available online starting July 4, and only if you are personally invited to buy them. (Those interested can sign up for more information.) That certainly seems a little elitist during such turbulent times, but bottles are priced at a rather economical $250. Bhakta has the hubris to believe it will sell out overnight, but I’m not quite as bullish and neither are others in the industry.

“I believe older Armagnac will be a harder sell to casual whiskey drinkers in general,” says Mike Varcheresse, owner of Travel Bar in Brooklyn. He does think Armagnac is becoming the next aged rum — in other words, a spirit that flew under the radar for a long time before people discovered its fantastic quality and value. But, he adds, “Right now Armagnac is still super geeky.”

Still, if any one can figure out a way to get press for Armagnac, it’s Bhakta — and his new brand is certainly no staid brandy company. In fact, each bottle of Bhakta 50 comes with a nine-page booklet written by Bhatka himself, whose picaresque prose reads like some lost pages from “Barry Lyndon” or “Tristram Shandy” (a sample: “On this global quest, my efforts were expedited by my wife’s ill temper during her fourth pregnancy when she chased me out of a chalet in the Alps with a broom. I dodged her blows and hopped into a hot rod Cadillac, the likes of which the French had never seen before, and sped across France towards the Armagnac region”).

“Whether Armagnac explodes as a category I’m not sure,” says Bhakta, when I wonder if Armagnac is on the precipice just like rye was before he started WhistlePig. Though he notes that he has no interest in turning his new company into some corporate behemoth. “My focus is delivering to the American whiskey drinker a product of great value and rarity, the best product they could possibly get their hands on,” he says.

He’s certainly focusing on the right consumer, as the few Armagnacs that have gotten any sort of buzz in America have been ones that taste more whiskey-like. L’Encantada releases, in particular, are noted for their “bourbon-y” flavor profile, which has made them a darling of whiskey geeks and stateside whiskey clubs. But, it’s still not like it’s anywhere close to becoming a household name on par with Pappy.

“It’s hot for the people it’s hot for,” says Palazzi, who imports L’Encantada and has even bottled a couple of blends under his PM Spirits label. “As for market share for L’Encantada, it’s nothing. The people that buy it really care for it, but it sells very little.”

Still, Bhatka thinks he can bridge the gap between Armagnac and whiskey by offering the best of both worlds. The exquisite, handcrafted nature of the former; the robust flavor profile of the latter, not to mention the limited-edition appeal so many whiskey geeks crave. Its price point is a key selling point for him as well, one that he believes makes it a surefire investment opportunity. “I can say with certainty that I find it to be the greatest value in the world of spirits,” he says, “and it’s only a matter of time before people realize that.”

Yes, in a world where Pappy Van Winkle 23 Year Old regularly goes for $2,000 and Louis Treize, considered the most baller of Cognacs, goes for $4,500, a 50-year-old Armagnac with liquid as old as 152 years for only $250 seems like a damn steal. Whiskey, Armagnac, Cognac, brandy, it doesn’t really matter to Bhakta what you call it, and, in fact, he’d rather you not classify it by any of the standard categories. He’s creating something all his own.

“I’m not selling Armagnac,” he tells me. “I’m selling Bhakta.”

The article Can WhistlePig’s Eccentric Founder Do the Same Thing for Armagnac That He Did for Rye Whiskey? appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/whistlepig-founder-armagnac-rye-whiskey/

[johnboothus]

Can WhistlePigs Eccentric Founder Do the Same Thing for Armagnac That He Did for Rye Whiskey?

“It fires a core passion in me to find things rare and exquisite that happen to be overlooked and then bring them back to life,” says Raj Bhakta.

Bhakta famously started the WhistlePig whiskey brand in 2008, buying up more than 5,000 gallons of well-aged Canadian rye barrels well before most people knew that was a savvy play. Today, the Shoreham, Vt.-based company is considered the No. 1 producer of luxury rye, integral in reviving a once-forgotten category that now sells over 1.2 million cases per year. Unfortunately, Bhakta had always courted controversy over the years — which often led to plenty of press for his antics — but that finally caught up with him when WhistlePig’s board of directors forced him to sell off his share of the company in 2019. I thought that was the last time I would ever hear from Bhakta — who had even claimed he had retired from the spirits industry in 2017 — but this summer he is returning to the business with a most interesting play.

“For two years I was on the lookout for new opportunities,” he tells me. “Armagnac happened almost by accident.”

Bhakta first began paying attention to the esoteric spirit in 2017 when WhistlePig had taken The Boss Hog, its priciest and most limited-edition rye, and finished that year’s release in Armagnac barrels. Dubbed the Black Prince, it won best overall whiskey at the San Francisco World Spirits Competition. And, yet, Armagnac — think of it like Cognac’s earthier-tasting, more artisan little brother — was still not exactly something people cared about in America. “When I first started selling it, six, seven years ago, it was hard as fuck [to sell],” says Nicolas Palazzi, owner of PM Spirits, a Brooklyn-based spirits importer with several Armagnacs in its portfolio. Back then, he told me, it might take him 18 months to sell a single cask’s worth. “And it’s still hard; nothing really has changed when it comes to Armagnac,” he adds.

Last year Bhakta was on what he calls a “global tour of finding,” traveling the world, mainly looking for intriguing barrels of whiskey and rum. For six months, often with his family (wife Danhee and three small kids) in tow, he traveled to Scotland, India, the Philippines, and the Caribbean. Eventually he worked his way to the countryside of southwestern France. He asked BNIA (Bureau National Interprofessionnel de l’Armagnac) if it knew anyone looking to sell casks. And from there?

“I basically started knocking on doors,” says Bhakta. Though, many of these farmers didn’t know what to make of the brash American who had shipped an Escalade over to France to use as the family car — and who claims he would arrive at these dignified chateaus jokingly blaring “Be Our Guest” from “Beauty and the Beast” over his sound system.

Finally, he found a fifth-generation, family-run Armagnac house that may very well have had the oldest collection in all of the region — more than 100 casks they’d amassed over the last century and throughout many generations. It would be hard to link these casks to any specific producers, certainly none most people have heard of as they’d been purchased from hundreds of different farmer-distillers over the last hundred years. The owner had some health issues and needed to move them for some quick cash. “So I bought them all — lock, stock, and barrel — with the chateau to boot,” says Bhakta.

About half of the casks he sent back to his farm in Vermont, just a stone’s throw away from the WhistlePig farm. There, he plans to start growing his own grapes and producing his own brandy within the next year or two, using a refurbished, wood-fired still. Back in Condom, France, he is refurbishing the Hotel de Cugnac chateau and putting together some blends, though he plans for both these locations to be humble non-public operations, not like the “Disneylands” other distilleries eventually become.

Bhakta wouldn’t give me exact numbers, but he claims he has spent a “significant portion” of his WhistlePig nest egg on starting the new company, Bhakta Spirits. As you can imagine, it’s not cheap to refurbish 200-year-old chateaus and buy 150-year-old barrels; he claims just a single cask from 1868 would break down to costing him thousands of dollars per bottle. This whole selling Armagnac thing doesn’t particularly seem like an easy way to make money.

“I have definitely wondered, ‘Why do this?’” he says. “But I feel I have a very comprehensive view of the world of spirits and I’m very well placed to be able to deliver to consumers the very best value in the world of spirits. And that’s why I put my name on it.”

Bhakta 50, as his first release will be called, is a blend composed of barrels from eight different vintages ranging from 1868 to 1970 (the “50” refers to its age statement). The blend is then put into smoky, Islay Scotch casks and then finally into a fresh cask that has previously held young Armagnac. Bhakta feels that this technique “freshens up” the old spirit, adding some bright notes — though, technically, these finishes do make it lose its “Armagnac” appellation.

The 500 or so bottles of this first release will only be available online starting July 4, and only if you are personally invited to buy them. (Those interested can sign up for more information.) That certainly seems a little elitist during such turbulent times, but bottles are priced at a rather economical $250. Bhakta has the hubris to believe it will sell out overnight, but I’m not quite as bullish and neither are others in the industry.

“I believe older Armagnac will be a harder sell to casual whiskey drinkers in general,” says Mike Varcheresse, owner of Travel Bar in Brooklyn. He does think Armagnac is becoming the next aged rum — in other words, a spirit that flew under the radar for a long time before people discovered its fantastic quality and value. But, he adds, “Right now Armagnac is still super geeky.”

Still, if any one can figure out a way to get press for Armagnac, it’s Bhakta — and his new brand is certainly no staid brandy company. In fact, each bottle of Bhakta 50 comes with a nine-page booklet written by Bhatka himself, whose picaresque prose reads like some lost pages from “Barry Lyndon” or “Tristram Shandy” (a sample: “On this global quest, my efforts were expedited by my wife’s ill temper during her fourth pregnancy when she chased me out of a chalet in the Alps with a broom. I dodged her blows and hopped into a hot rod Cadillac, the likes of which the French had never seen before, and sped across France towards the Armagnac region”).

“Whether Armagnac explodes as a category I’m not sure,” says Bhakta, when I wonder if Armagnac is on the precipice just like rye was before he started WhistlePig. Though he notes that he has no interest in turning his new company into some corporate behemoth. “My focus is delivering to the American whiskey drinker a product of great value and rarity, the best product they could possibly get their hands on,” he says.

He’s certainly focusing on the right consumer, as the few Armagnacs that have gotten any sort of buzz in America have been ones that taste more whiskey-like. L’Encantada releases, in particular, are noted for their “bourbon-y” flavor profile, which has made them a darling of whiskey geeks and stateside whiskey clubs. But, it’s still not like it’s anywhere close to becoming a household name on par with Pappy.

“It’s hot for the people it’s hot for,” says Palazzi, who imports L’Encantada and has even bottled a couple of blends under his PM Spirits label. “As for market share for L’Encantada, it’s nothing. The people that buy it really care for it, but it sells very little.”

Still, Bhatka thinks he can bridge the gap between Armagnac and whiskey by offering the best of both worlds. The exquisite, handcrafted nature of the former; the robust flavor profile of the latter, not to mention the limited-edition appeal so many whiskey geeks crave. Its price point is a key selling point for him as well, one that he believes makes it a surefire investment opportunity. “I can say with certainty that I find it to be the greatest value in the world of spirits,” he says, “and it’s only a matter of time before people realize that.”

Yes, in a world where Pappy Van Winkle 23 Year Old regularly goes for $2,000 and Louis Treize, considered the most baller of Cognacs, goes for $4,500, a 50-year-old Armagnac with liquid as old as 152 years for only $250 seems like a damn steal. Whiskey, Armagnac, Cognac, brandy, it doesn’t really matter to Bhakta what you call it, and, in fact, he’d rather you not classify it by any of the standard categories. He’s creating something all his own.

“I’m not selling Armagnac,” he tells me. “I’m selling Bhakta.”

The article Can WhistlePig’s Eccentric Founder Do the Same Thing for Armagnac That He Did for Rye Whiskey? appeared first on VinePair.

Via https://vinepair.com/articles/whistlepig-founder-armagnac-rye-whiskey/

source https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/can-whistlepigs-eccentric-founder-do-the-same-thing-for-armagnac-that-he-did-for-rye-whiskey

[isaiahrippinus]

Can WhistlePig’s Eccentric Founder Do the Same Thing for Armagnac That He Did for Rye Whiskey?

“It fires a core passion in me to find things rare and exquisite that happen to be overlooked and then bring them back to life,” says Raj Bhakta.

Bhakta famously started the WhistlePig whiskey brand in 2008, buying up more than 5,000 gallons of well-aged Canadian rye barrels well before most people knew that was a savvy play. Today, the Shoreham, Vt.-based company is considered the No. 1 producer of luxury rye, integral in reviving a once-forgotten category that now sells over 1.2 million cases per year. Unfortunately, Bhakta had always courted controversy over the years — which often led to plenty of press for his antics — but that finally caught up with him when WhistlePig’s board of directors forced him to sell off his share of the company in 2019. I thought that was the last time I would ever hear from Bhakta — who had even claimed he had retired from the spirits industry in 2017 — but this summer he is returning to the business with a most interesting play.

“For two years I was on the lookout for new opportunities,” he tells me. “Armagnac happened almost by accident.”

Bhakta first began paying attention to the esoteric spirit in 2017 when WhistlePig had taken The Boss Hog, its priciest and most limited-edition rye, and finished that year’s release in Armagnac barrels. Dubbed the Black Prince, it won best overall whiskey at the San Francisco World Spirits Competition. And, yet, Armagnac — think of it like Cognac’s earthier-tasting, more artisan little brother — was still not exactly something people cared about in America. “When I first started selling it, six, seven years ago, it was hard as fuck [to sell],” says Nicolas Palazzi, owner of PM Spirits, a Brooklyn-based spirits importer with several Armagnacs in its portfolio. Back then, he told me, it might take him 18 months to sell a single cask’s worth. “And it’s still hard; nothing really has changed when it comes to Armagnac,” he adds.

Last year Bhakta was on what he calls a “global tour of finding,” traveling the world, mainly looking for intriguing barrels of whiskey and rum. For six months, often with his family (wife Danhee and three small kids) in tow, he traveled to Scotland, India, the Philippines, and the Caribbean. Eventually he worked his way to the countryside of southwestern France. He asked BNIA (Bureau National Interprofessionnel de l’Armagnac) if it knew anyone looking to sell casks. And from there?

“I basically started knocking on doors,” says Bhakta. Though, many of these farmers didn’t know what to make of the brash American who had shipped an Escalade over to France to use as the family car — and who claims he would arrive at these dignified chateaus jokingly blaring “Be Our Guest” from “Beauty and the Beast” over his sound system.

Finally, he found a fifth-generation, family-run Armagnac house that may very well have had the oldest collection in all of the region — more than 100 casks they’d amassed over the last century and throughout many generations. It would be hard to link these casks to any specific producers, certainly none most people have heard of as they’d been purchased from hundreds of different farmer-distillers over the last hundred years. The owner had some health issues and needed to move them for some quick cash. “So I bought them all — lock, stock, and barrel — with the chateau to boot,” says Bhakta.

About half of the casks he sent back to his farm in Vermont, just a stone’s throw away from the WhistlePig farm. There, he plans to start growing his own grapes and producing his own brandy within the next year or two, using a refurbished, wood-fired still. Back in Condom, France, he is refurbishing the Hotel de Cugnac chateau and putting together some blends, though he plans for both these locations to be humble non-public operations, not like the “Disneylands” other distilleries eventually become.

Bhakta wouldn’t give me exact numbers, but he claims he has spent a “significant portion” of his WhistlePig nest egg on starting the new company, Bhakta Spirits. As you can imagine, it’s not cheap to refurbish 200-year-old chateaus and buy 150-year-old barrels; he claims just a single cask from 1868 would break down to costing him thousands of dollars per bottle. This whole selling Armagnac thing doesn’t particularly seem like an easy way to make money.

“I have definitely wondered, ‘Why do this?’” he says. “But I feel I have a very comprehensive view of the world of spirits and I’m very well placed to be able to deliver to consumers the very best value in the world of spirits. And that’s why I put my name on it.”

Bhakta 50, as his first release will be called, is a blend composed of barrels from eight different vintages ranging from 1868 to 1970 (the “50” refers to its age statement). The blend is then put into smoky, Islay Scotch casks and then finally into a fresh cask that has previously held young Armagnac. Bhakta feels that this technique “freshens up” the old spirit, adding some bright notes — though, technically, these finishes do make it lose its “Armagnac” appellation.

The 500 or so bottles of this first release will only be available online starting July 4, and only if you are personally invited to buy them. (Those interested can sign up for more information.) That certainly seems a little elitist during such turbulent times, but bottles are priced at a rather economical $250. Bhakta has the hubris to believe it will sell out overnight, but I’m not quite as bullish and neither are others in the industry.

“I believe older Armagnac will be a harder sell to casual whiskey drinkers in general,” says Mike Varcheresse, owner of Travel Bar in Brooklyn. He does think Armagnac is becoming the next aged rum — in other words, a spirit that flew under the radar for a long time before people discovered its fantastic quality and value. But, he adds, “Right now Armagnac is still super geeky.”

Still, if any one can figure out a way to get press for Armagnac, it’s Bhakta — and his new brand is certainly no staid brandy company. In fact, each bottle of Bhakta 50 comes with a nine-page booklet written by Bhatka himself, whose picaresque prose reads like some lost pages from “Barry Lyndon” or “Tristram Shandy” (a sample: “On this global quest, my efforts were expedited by my wife’s ill temper during her fourth pregnancy when she chased me out of a chalet in the Alps with a broom. I dodged her blows and hopped into a hot rod Cadillac, the likes of which the French had never seen before, and sped across France towards the Armagnac region”).

“Whether Armagnac explodes as a category I’m not sure,” says Bhakta, when I wonder if Armagnac is on the precipice just like rye was before he started WhistlePig. Though he notes that he has no interest in turning his new company into some corporate behemoth. “My focus is delivering to the American whiskey drinker a product of great value and rarity, the best product they could possibly get their hands on,” he says.

He’s certainly focusing on the right consumer, as the few Armagnacs that have gotten any sort of buzz in America have been ones that taste more whiskey-like. L’Encantada releases, in particular, are noted for their “bourbon-y” flavor profile, which has made them a darling of whiskey geeks and stateside whiskey clubs. But, it’s still not like it’s anywhere close to becoming a household name on par with Pappy.

“It’s hot for the people it’s hot for,” says Palazzi, who imports L’Encantada and has even bottled a couple of blends under his PM Spirits label. “As for market share for L’Encantada, it’s nothing. The people that buy it really care for it, but it sells very little.”

Still, Bhatka thinks he can bridge the gap between Armagnac and whiskey by offering the best of both worlds. The exquisite, handcrafted nature of the former; the robust flavor profile of the latter, not to mention the limited-edition appeal so many whiskey geeks crave. Its price point is a key selling point for him as well, one that he believes makes it a surefire investment opportunity. “I can say with certainty that I find it to be the greatest value in the world of spirits,” he says, “and it’s only a matter of time before people realize that.”

Yes, in a world where Pappy Van Winkle 23 Year Old regularly goes for $2,000 and Louis Treize, considered the most baller of Cognacs, goes for $4,500, a 50-year-old Armagnac with liquid as old as 152 years for only $250 seems like a damn steal. Whiskey, Armagnac, Cognac, brandy, it doesn’t really matter to Bhakta what you call it, and, in fact, he’d rather you not classify it by any of the standard categories. He’s creating something all his own.

“I’m not selling Armagnac,” he tells me. “I’m selling Bhakta.”

The article Can WhistlePig’s Eccentric Founder Do the Same Thing for Armagnac That He Did for Rye Whiskey? appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/whistlepig-founder-armagnac-rye-whiskey/ source https://vinology1.tumblr.com/post/621544294069796864

[somethingabouttheway]

Poetry

@terranoctis​ @breakingitswings @hiddenhina Because you mentioned that you like it when I write (I think), so I wanted to share my (KIND OF SUPER LONG 5 PART) poem with you!

@rose-grangerweasleyisbae @queenofthyme Because I love it when you write and you both are my favorites!! (I’m not sure if you knew that already!!  BUT I DO!!)  This isn’t Drarry related, but since I can’t write fanfiction the way you do, I just wanted to show you something that I did write.  (But if I could twist this, the speaker would be pining!Draco, Harry is He, and Ginny would be She...) XD

And to any other of my followers who do end up reading this, please give me feedback (both negative and postive)!!  I’d love to improve!!

Museums

I.  He Says He Hates Museums (An Introduction to Kindness)

II.  She Smiles (It’s for the Better)

III.   I Am (Weighing My Self-Worth)

IV.  If He Is a Lighthouse (Then I Could Be a Lighthouse Too)

V.  Museums House Dinosaur Bones (While I Hide Skeletons in the Closet)        

Summary:  All parts can stand alone, but together, they tell the story of the speaker, who, goes from trying to change him (the object of her affection), to trying to change herself, but in the end, comes to a realization.  Part I is about his statement.  Part II is about Her (the object of his affections who is in love with someone else).  Part III is about the speaker.  Part IV is about him.  Part V is about museums in general. 

Museums

I.  He Says He Hates Museums (An Introduction to Kindness) He says he hates museums, But what I hear translates to He got hurt somehow in his past, Possibly at a museum, A living essence of Complicated, In need of a saving grace; This is my chance To take him in And fulfill my grandiose dreams for salvation Of the male species. I’ll rewrite the experience for him Because the magic is in discovering That through these rooms housing art, One has the power to revisit the past. We’ll walk through exhibits together, I’ll show him the hards and the softs Of The Persistence of Memory All he needs is an introduction to kindness He’ll find it in the angel from The Annunciation, Face to face with a miracle, And me, his loving Savior. We’d have good conversation in a museum— When really, he just means he hates museums.

II.  She Smiles (It’s for the Better) He says he hates museums, Because they’re boring So I go and visit 50 this summer And I think although he says he hates them, He likes Her And she is the most beautiful painting Inside The Louvre; Protected by bulletproof glass, Nothing but time could cause Her looks to fade away But who in the world can fight against time? When our hour is over, We all grow dim and our colors fade, So naturally— She is flawless. She looks and doesn’t see him Because he isn’t Romeo and she can’t be his Juliet But maybe it’s for the better That we don’t poison ourselves over love. Although she smiles because of someone else, Still, he goes to find her and likes Her anyway And for that, I cannot find fault Because, like all of us, Even if we end up being star-crossed lovers All the same He cannot deny his weakness for beauty, Even though he says he hates museums.

III.  I Am (Weighing My Self- Worth) He says he hates museums, Yet he himself is a piece of art. My best friend says not to get too hung up over it— That I am a work of art too, A Jackson Pollock maybe Something Abstract Expressionist A bit obscure, And too much emotional intensity, Investing way too much time Searching for the hidden meaning And making out words and people to be More than they really are— Sometimes things are genuinely that simple. I sigh Her name And my friend smiles gently and says, People all over the world know Her name And wait hours to flock to Her The majority will trample over each other to see Her They’ll spend a few seconds with Her, Take their selfies and leave, She is valuable But only a few know how to appreciate her worth— Just as with you. Not everyone, Only the special few, Will spend a little bit longer with you, Perhaps out of confusion Because they can’t figure out What you’re trying to say, she jokes, You are an acquired taste Because you make them curious. Maybe somebody out there could admire that; But maybe what he means is I’m not made up of The types of paintings he longs for, After all, She is Real And he is a Realist; I’m only a Modern woman Weighing my self-worth, When he says he hates museums.

IV.  If He Is a Lighthouse (Then I Could Be a Lighthouse Too) He says he hates museums, He’d rather spend his time in bars Or hole-in-the-wall diners A real-life Nighthawks. He introduces me to his friends one day, When he isn’t looking, They express their concerns about him He smokes too much, drinks too much, I wonder how lonely he must feel He reminds me of The Lighthouse at Two Lights, A sad, solitary figure Withstanding dangerous coastlines, He shines his light into the distance Searching for Her The way a compass’s needle Is magnetically drawn to the north. I could be a lighthouse too Situated on an island, facing him Providing safe entries into harbors, Imagine, together, we’d shine as bright as the stars, Beacons of safety for the public good, The price— The water’s relentless erosion, But the true tragedy lies in our lights never touching Because Her smile is the inevitable ocean between us. I think he and I Would sympathize with Van Gogh, All 3 of us spend our lives Gazing at the stars in the night sky, His soul is the half that makes strenuous pacts of silences And mine, the half with occasional bouts of sanity But why should it matter if he says he hates museums?

V.  Museums House Dinosaur Bones (While I Hide Skeletons in the Closet) He says he hates museums, And I wonder if he also means the ones That are trendy these days The ones young people visit To take hipster pictures And post on social media, The ones that include aviation And all the famous fliers, You know, the one filled with ice creams in diverse colors, Vast arrays of lights, a room of mirrors, Memorabilia of love and lost, The ones depicting the legends of musicians and their records The ones that come alive at night In Hollywood Broomsticks and wands from movies, Displays of books Or pipes, located in 221B. I may not understand him, But I understand museums well We both hold and collect things We store them Or put them on display, The way people bare their hearts. We keep track of dates For periods when we’re eager to time travel— Museums house dinosaur bones, While I try to hide my skeletons in the closet, Instead of disposing of them, We horde things forever. Immovable dreamers, Who fantasize about being infinite among the galaxies of planets and stars, We look for beauty in the things that others don’t always care to see In any case, Museums are meant to make you feel And I still can’t tell, Whether he is afraid to feel Or if he just doesn’t want to, I guess hatred is a feeling too. I hope he finds what he is searching for, Because I often fool myself into thinking That I deny changing myself for any girl or boy. He likes cigarettes And smokes them the way I am addicted to over-analyzing; I inhaled secondhand too much tobacco this summer I hate the way it smells, So maybe it wouldn’t have worked out anyways Even if he did like museums, Because smoking chokes me And that is what we would do to each other, I shouldn’t have to change him I shouldn’t have to change myself either. We like what we like And we hate what we hate What’s special about museums is that we’re free Free to embrace our independence, free to create, Free to love and hate. Museums are a place for discovery and discussion A home for freedom of expression A refuge for those who invent brand new solutions Instead of ripping apart others’ creations, A symbol of hope for those who made it, despite others’ criticism. I think maybe I am more of a Picasso Broken into tiny shards of Geometric Cubes Little pieces that tell a story I’m sharp in corners, without meaning to be Existing with a lack of form Challenging the expectations Of idealized beauty in women; I’m not here to provide pleasure for the male gaze I love it here There are many people in the world who find love here So why should it matter if he says he hates museums?